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musicfeedsmysoul12 · 5 years ago

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A Fox and a Guardian-Part 1

Originally this was one huge post but given I got caught up in work and didn’t finish, I decided to do this in smaller posts- this is my JayTim MariBat au!!! Hope you guys like!!!

When Marinette steps into her new home she nearly breaks down crying. She doesn’t. But just barely.

“Here are the keys Miss Fu.” The realtor smiles and hands her the set of keys to the house. She smiles and takes them.

“Thank you,” she tells the woman who leaves with a wave. Marinette already knows the story. Store on the bottom, three-bedroom apartment up top. Movers had already gone ahead and put her furniture in the house, along with her luggage except for the two bags she carried. She doesn’t need to know more.

It’s only when the woman is gone Marinette collapses.

She chokes out big heavy sobs, shoulders shaking as Tikki, Plagg and the others fly out to comfort her.

She’s finally safe. She’s safe. Oh god, she’s safe.

-0-

It all went to hell when they confronted Hawkmoth. He managed to get their Miraculous and use it for his wish.

He wanted his wife back.

Gabriel wanted his wife back.

He got his wish.

But he lost his son.

One second Chat was next to her- no not Chat, Adrien- alive and terrified, trying to get back the Miraculous from his own father. He knew as well as she did that they were dangerous in anyone’s hands.

One second he was alive, next to her. The next he was dead.

A life for a life.

While Emilie and Gabriel were screaming, yelling at one another, Marinette had snatched the Miraculous. All of them. And then she’d run.

Emilie never made an appearance. Gabriel claimed Marinette had murdered Adrien after he rejected her.

Paris believed it. And Marinette had no proof otherwise.

Her parents helped her run. Her parents knew everything and helped her flee. Jagged helped as well as she ran away from Paris, promises coming from her lips.

She kept running until she reached Tibet. Where only three Masters remained. The new time period wasn’t healthy for them. They had been old, diseases had mutated.

Only three. And they were dying.

She learned what she could, gained the vast fortune they had left to Fu now left to her. And then she’s made a new name for herself, a new identity.

She buried the last Masters and headed to America. Gotham to be exact. No one would expect her there in the criminal capital of America.

She had bought a building. A place to call her own, a place to work and be herself.

She had bought herself a sanctuary:

-0-

The new shop near the Bowery is a bit of a strange mix between an occult store and a bookstore. The owner is this Asian girl with a bright smile who wears flowered shirts- often Hawaiian tourist shirts- and soothing colours. She talks about crystals and chakras and karma with everyone who comes in. Her books are a strange collection but she knows a lot and is always willing to chat.

People who go in, feel calmer and happier, people who try to shake the place down find themselves with cards about job training or new thoughts- or they’re just beaten up. Women who struggle in relationships either find ways to fix things or find the courage to end it after talking to the owner who calls herself Mari.

The shop, The Black Bug, is an adorable place in Gotham.

-0-

Mari steps out on the balcony in her apartment, transformed using the Black Cat. She needs to run, needs to feel the magic of the Kwami in her as she runs across Gotham. Smiling, she takes off.

She runs across Gotham, feeling the air, feeling the rush of the world passing her by. She smiles as she lands on a rooftop, tears trickling in her eyes.

“I wish you were here Kitty,” she says to the ghosts of the past. She stands on the rooftop, staring at the smog-filled sky.

Noises make her turn her head to an alley, the former hero slinking over to study what was going on below her.

Batman and Robin are fighting some thugs it seemed. Marinette sighs, smiling. She remembers fighting street crime with Adrien. It was magical, the two working together.

She watches for a short time, sighing. About to leave, she stops when something in the back of her mind tugs her attention.

A little boy on the rooftop across from her, carrying a camera.

Look, whispers the voice in her head. A strong candidate for a Holder, a strong future Guardian.

Oh… oh… oh dear.

-0-

Tim Drake loves Batman and Robin. He has since he was a little boy and saw Dick Grayson fly. He loves Batman with a fever that few could match.

That being said, Tim isn’t unaware of other heroes around the world.

So when Lady Noire- as in Ladybug from Paris- drops down to sit next to him, he has a little, tiny… sorta huge freakout.

“Oh god…” he breathes and the woman grins.

“Well, looks like I have a fan.” she smiles at him, and honestly Tim has never felt so happy.

-0-

His name is Tim Drake and he’s just a little boy with neglectful parents who prefer their money and work to their son.

She sees a blonde with green eyes when she hears that.

She takes him on trips around the rooftops, trips always ending in food he loves and laughs about.

He talks about his cameras, shows her his pictures, admits his love of detectives and babbles all about heroes. Marinette sees herself when he speaks of that.

She makes sure to meet him daily, giving him advice on stalking Robin and Batman. Mostly Batman now, the two heroes arguing and fighting more. Tim is sad about it, so Marinette begins telling him stories about past Holders, sharing stories about Chat even that makes him laugh.

“You miss him, don’t you?” he asks her, one night while they’re drinking milkshakes and sitting on a rooftop.

“He was my partner- we were yin and yang. I never thought I’d lose him.” she tells him. He reaches out to hold her hand and she smiles at him, this little boy who reminds her of Adrien and herself.

One day, while he whines he couldn’t get good enough pictures of his heroes, she grins and holds out a box.

“Want to try something else out?”

-0-

A fox joins Lady Noire as the two run around Gotham, laughing and playing.

The Black Bug gains a cute little shop assistant who helps out the owner and has his own array of knowledge.

Jack and Janet Drake lose their son in a quiet custody battle that is very one-sided with the proof of their neglect. They let go when it’s pointed out how bad it could be to the company if it got out how they treated their son.

Marianne Fu and her son Tim Fu are very happy in a little shop in Gotham.

#maribat #ml au #part 1 #miraculous ladybug

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icecream-and-gadreel · 4 years ago

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Chapter 1: Family ties

Series Summary: Jack goes missing days after his father betrays their family by joining another syndicate. Everyone suspects Lucifer but instead of sitting around wondering, Castiel goes to the best detective he knows: Dean Winchester. The cynical detective has lost his lust for life and doesn't want to make his miserable days anymore miserable by being caught between the two biggest crime families in the country. Ever persuasive, Castiel is able to recruit him and start a relationship that neither of them expected.

Summary: Castiel can't bite his tongue around his family anymore. Meanwhile, Dean thinks about retirement up until he finds that his agency has been broken in to.

Pairing: Destiel

Other characters: Samandriel, Sam, Gabriel, Jack(Mentioned), Lucifer(Mentioned) Max, Cassie(Mentioned) Charlie (Mentioned)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, mentions of violence, guns, smoking, death mention, threats

Word count: 2800+

A/N: Thank you to my amazing beta @cajunquandry, I appreciate you making this fic sparkle! Anyways I am obsessed with Noir films and bamf!Castiel, so why not feed into both? Enjoy!

Masterlist

Three days missing

Castiel

Cigarette smoke fogs the room, the sound of jazz music combatting the chattering crowd. Sitting in the corner of the bar is Castiel, swirling his beer mindlessly.

It's driving him insane.

His family, all crowded around him, celebrates some meaningless victory and pretend like nothing is wrong. The absolute disregard for Jack's disappearance is enough to make him want to snap. But he doesn't. Instead, he swirls his beer and avoids the looks from his brothers. Samandriel stares at him from across the bar, babysitting a glass of water. He seems to be the only other person that gives a damn. Castiel begins raising to his feet, halting when Sam sits next to him. Sighing, Castiel sinks back into his seat.

“Hey,” Sam says, rolling his sleeves up. Castiel grunts in response, setting his beer down and leaning back in his seat.

“You came.”

“Yeah, uh Gabriel wouldn't stop calling the office so...” Sam shrugs, gesturing for the bartender. He orders a shot of vodka, clearing his throat. “You ok?” he asks, patting Castiel's back.

“Far from it,” he retorts, flicking his eyes to the other man. “He's gone. No trace, no signs, just vanished. I'd feel better if there was a body.”

Sam nods, downing his shot with a huff. “I get it –”

“Do you?,” he snaps, glancing over his shoulder before continuing. “All they talk about is 'loyalty' and 'putting the family first', but the moment it really counts they're nowhere to be seen,” he growls.

Sam nods. “No, I get it, I do,” he says, nodding once more. Before Castiel can respond, Gabriel is throwing his arms around them.

“Stop being a fucking buzz kill!” Gabriel whines, tssking his younger brother. Castiel shakes out of his grasp, whirling around toward the crowd. Gabriel offers him a bottle of whiskey, wiggling his eyebrows. “Live a little, baby bro.”

Snatching the bottle away, Castiel stands from his seat, gaining whoops and hollers from his family.

“Castiel –”

“My nephew,” he begins, cutting Sam off. The crowd goes quiet. “Our nephew has disappeared from the face of the earth.” Castiel swigs from the bottle, a river of liquor running down his neck. “Could be dead or worse.” He smashes the bottle against the ground and Sam flinches back, a look of concern crossing his face. “Excuse me if I'm not 'chipper',” he adds, a faux-smile on his face. The room is silent, even the music has stopped. Castiel stares around at the sea of shocked faces, his chest heaving as the anger bubbles inside of him. “You're all full of shit. Being with family only matters to you when it's fun!”

Sam stands from his seat, patting Castiel's back. “I think we should go,” he whispers, flinching when Gabriel clears his throat.

“Look, we all know Lucifer has him, can't take him from his dad now can we?” Gabriel asks.

They could. All they'd have to do is find the bastard, tell him to give Jack up, and take him home. Castiel considers telling Gabriel this, but heads for the door instead. He ignores the protests from his family, tucking his hands into his pockets and making his way down the road. He pulls a lighter from his pocket with a huff. He looks over his shoulder at the sounds of a car approaching, rolling his eyes.

“Need a ride?” Sam asks, easing the car to a stop. Silently, Castiel leans against the hood of the car, pulling a cigarette from his shirt pocket. “Come on, get in.”

“No, get out.” Sighing, Sam pulls his keys out of the ignition, sulking over to him with a cocked smile. “The detective,” he says, flicking his eyes up to Sam.

“My...brother?” Sam asks, shaking his head when Castiel nods. “It's not gonna happen.”

“He was able to get to Michael. I still don't know how he got close enough,” he says, resting a hand on Sam's arm. “What I do know is if anyone could find Jack, it's him.”

“It's not gonna happen,” he repeats, stiffening as Castiel squeezes his shoulder. “Dean doesn't deal with the mafia,” he adds.

“Please. It's like I'm the only one who gives a damn,” he says, gently rubbing Sam's arm. “I can't do this alone,” he adds. Sam melts under the touch, as he always does, and darts his eyes away.

“It's not that easy,” he mumbles. Castiel flicks his cigarette away before bracing Sam's other arm, a stone look on his face.

“An address. That's all I need. If he says no, then I'll leave,” he says. Sam rolls his eyes and gently urges Castiel's hands away.

“Only if you go back to the bar with me.” Sam points behind himself. “You owe me a shot.” Castiel hums, shrugging.

“Fine.”

–

Four days missing

Castiel stares down at the sloppily written address, squinting his eyes. The ink is smudged thanks to Gabriel spilling a drink all over the napkin, but he thinks he has the right place. He rubs a hand over his eye, trying to shake away his hangover. Never again will he challenge his overgrown lawyer to a drinking contest. He stares down at the address once more, glancing up when he hears humming. A man with caramel skin makes his way to the building, pulling out a set of keys. After opening the door, he disappears into the building.

Glancing around, Castiel draws his gun, jogging across the street and ducking into a nearby crevice. Minutes later the delivery man is reemerging. He sets down his sack of packages and sorts through the keys once more. Castiel creeps up behind him, pressing his gun into the other man's back.

“Don't scream,” he says, voice calm. The man obliges, slowly raising his hands up. “What's your name?”

“Max,” he grunts, looking over his shoulder with a sigh. “I don't carry my wallet, but I think someone ordered a blender,” he says dryly, nodding to the bag.

“I need to get into this building,” he says in a near whisper.

“You couldn't just ask?”

“Would you have let me in?” he retorts. Max shakes his head, sorting through the keys once more and opening the door. He leads Castiel inside, hands still in the air. “Come with me.”

“Why?” Max grows, shooting him a glare. Castiel opens the door to the detective's office, pushing Max in first. The room feels claustrophobic; the mess on the floor and desk isn't helping. It smells faintly of cigarettes and warm cologne. Castiel looks at each corner, noting that there aren't any cameras. He sinks down into the spinning chair behind the desk, gesturing at Max with his gun.

“I'm a very good shot,” he begins, opening a drawer and digging around. “But if I happen to miss, I will find you, and if I find you, things will be much less pleasant than they are now.”

“Wow, you're a blast to deal with,” Max says, leaning against the wall.

Castiel grabs a picture of a stoic man and a curly haired woman from the desk, his gun still aimed at Max. “I've been told recently that I'm not,” he says, furrowing his brow. They both share a solemn look. Dean, he assumes, looks far more intense than Sam described him. He flips the photo over, chuckling under his breath. 'The wife and I try to be serious for once. Didn't work. September '48'. he turns the picture once more, observing Dean before getting back to his main mission. Cameras. Bugs. Recorders. Anything a cop could use to get him caught up. He squats down, running his hand underneath the desk.

“...flies in.”

Castiel frowns, looking up at the source of the voice. His throat runs dry as he trails his eyes over the man before him. Black pants that cling to his bow-legs. A button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing freckle kissed skin. His face falls into a frown, his cherry red lips parted. Castiel forces himself to look away, glancing down at the picture.

Dean.

Dean

Dean tosses a burger on Sam's desk, a toothy grin on his face.

“Mornin' sunshine,” he cooes, gaining a groan from Sam. “Come on, grease is the hangover miracle cure.”

“I just need sleep and...copious amounts of coffee,” the younger Winchester groans, slowly rising from his desk. “...And to never drink again,” he adds, eyeing the burger.

“Yeah, leave it to the professionals buddy,” Dean says, shooting him a wink. Sam furrows his brow and unwraps his burger as he leaves his office.

“Any new cases?”

Dean hums, following Sam out and staring at the sky. The last case had ended with him locking one of the Novak brothers up, and sending another one running for the hills. The months to follow have been almost stagnant. “I think it's time,” he says. Sam bites into his burger, cocking an eyebrow at him. “You know, retirement. No more catching politicians in motels, just me and Baby.”

Sam scoffs. “Yeah, ok.”

“What? I'm serious!” Dean says, gesturing to the air. “Look at this, Sammy,” he says. The sky is blue with few clouds painting the sky. Cars are racing down the street, along with many people hustling on the sidewalks. “I don't get to enjoy this beautiful city anymore.”

Sam chuckles, glancing around. “Someone peed on this 'beautiful' sidewalk,” he says, pointing to a spot on the ground. Dean hops over it, staring at the stain as he passes. “But yeah, you're missing out,” Sam chuckles.

“Ha. I think it'll be good for me, though,” Dean says, stroking a finger along his jaw. “Solving crimes, angry convicts just waiting to catch me in a dark alley. I don't like it anymore.” Sam frowns, tossing the last bite of his burger into his mouth.

“All you've ever talked about is helping people.”

“Yeah, well.” Dean pauses, darting his tongue over his lip. “Just doesn't get me out of bed like it used to,” he says, glancing at his brother. The younger Winchester gives him his trademark puppy dog eyes, making him huff. “What?”

“Being cooped up in the house all day thinking of Cassie isn't healthy, Dean.” He speaks slowly, keeping his eyes locked on Dean's. “Neither is drinking yourself to sleep and waking up next to random strippers. The agency is the only thing that kept you sane,” he adds. Dean chuckles, his chest tightening at the mention of her. At the office. Sitting at home. It doesn't matter, the only person on his mind will always be her. He twists the wedding ring around on his finger, forcing out a laugh.

“You'd make a better shrink than a lawyer.”

“Fine, let's say you quit, what about Charlie? She needs the job and you know it,” Sam says. Dean purses his lips with a shrug. As he approaches his agency, his face sinks. The door is wide open, and on the side of the door sits Max's parcel bag.

“Wait here,” Dean grunts, gaining a perplexed look in return. Slowly, he pokes his head into the door, scanning his eyes over the room. Nothing seems disturbed, save for his door being left open. He scratches his scruff, eyeing the door to his office. Cracked open. “Max, you left the door open,” he yells, making his way toward his office. “Gonna let flies in...” his voice trails away at the scene before him. Max, standing in the corner with his hands up. A vaguely familiar man digging in his desk with a gun aimed at the delivery man. The man stares at Dean silently, blue eyes dancing.

“Go,” the man says, waving his gun at Max. He reluctantly walks out of the room, hands still in the air. “Are there any bugs?” he asks, voice rasping. Dean slowly makes his way to a bottle of whiskey sitting on the window seal, shaking his head.

“Had a couple roaches a while back, other than that, no,” he says, grabbing two glasses. He sets them on his desk, filling the glasses half-way with the liquor. “Dean Winchester. Am I looking at a new client?”

“I hope so,” he says, reluctantly tucking his gun into the back of his pants. Dean offers the man a cup of whiskey, sipping from his own. “This isn't how I imagined this interaction going.”

“I figure either you shoot me, or you pay me. Neither sounds bad these days,” he says, chuckling. The other man remains silent. “So...wife's cheating? Boss stealing from the company? What's the case?”

“A missing person, my nephew,” he says, making his way around the desk. Dean grabs a pen and a piece of crumpled paper, leaning on his desk.

“Fun. What's he look like?” Dean asks.

“Brown hair. About 5'10''. Twenty-two. Blue eyes...” He gulps down his whiskey, wiping his mouth afterward. “I just need to know that Jack is alive.”

Dean jots down a few notes, nodding to himself. “Right, and what's your name?” he asks. The other man pauses, looking to the ground. Dean stares at him silently, rolling his wrist when the man doesn't say anything. “You know, like the thing people call you?”

“Castiel,” he says, biting his lip. “Castiel Novak.”

Dean tosses the pen and paper, clasping his hands together. “There it is. I don't work with murderers. If you need a lawyer, my brother's always taking new clients,” he says, gesturing to the door. “Have a good one.”

Castiel takes a step closer. “Sam is the reason I'm here. I'm out of options.”

“Look, I feel for you, I really do but I'll be damned if I get involved with the mafia,” he says, holding his hands up and shaking his head.

“Who said anything about the mafia?”

“You do realize that I locked up Michael, right?” Dean asks. Castiel clenches his jaw, huffing.

“Jack doesn't deserve to be ignored because of what his family is 'allegedly' involved in,” he says,taking a step closer to Dean. “Name a number, any ridiculous price and it's yours.”

Chuckling, the Winchester crosses his arms over. “I don't take blood money.” He nods to the door. “See ya,” he adds. Sam jogs into the room, staring between the two men with raised eyebrows.

“Hey, what's up with Max?” Sam asks, frowning when his eyes land on Castiel. “Oh, you've met.”

“Yup. We met and now he’s on his way out,” Dean says, sipping his liquor before setting the cup down. Castiel pinches the bridge of his nose, chest heaving. Wordlessly, he pulls his gun out, aiming it at Dean.

“I don't think you understand the position you're in.”

“Woah, hey,” Sam says, holding his hands up to Castiel. “Let's calm down.”

“I don't have time for this. I need help, Dean.”

Dean cracks a grin, tilting his head. “I already told you my answer. Burn down my business, shoot me, whatever. I've got nothing to lose.”

“Yeah?” Castiel returns his smile, turning the gun on Sam. “Well, You've got him,” he says. Dean stands from his desk, his smile being replaced with a grimace. “Lay his life on the line, and I'll know you stand for nothing.”

“Castiel,” Sam says, hurt apparent in his tone.

“You love pointing that thing around, huh?” Dean asks, voice wavering. Castiel stares at him blankly, cocking his gun.

“Might I remind you that I've been accused of allegedly killing men for much less. Imagine what I'd hypothetically do to him to gain your cooperation, Detective,” he says. A look of hurt crosses Sam's face, and he turns his eyes to the elder Winchester, letting out a heaving breath. Castiel raises his eyebrows, turning his gun to the ceiling and firing off a round. “In case you thought it wasn't loaded.”

Dean looks between both men, swiping a hand over his face. When Castiel points the gun at Sam, Dean holds his hands out to him. “I'll do it,” he blurts, heart pounding in his chest. Smiling, Castiel de-cocks his gun, looking between both men.

“Thank you, I'll be here first thing tomorrow.”

Eternity squad: @sheinthatfandom @greenshinigamieyes @lipstickandwhiskey @feelmyroarrrr @bcarolinablr @mrswhozeewhatsis @mssunnyone

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a-square-minus-one · 5 years ago

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Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4:

“Spots off,” Marinette says, ignoring as Tikki zips around her. She bites her lip, looking at the window at the top of the apartment complex. Tikki floats into her line of vision.

“Marinette.” she says in an uncharacteristically deep voice. “It’s almost 4 am and you’ve had a very very bad day.” Marinette brings her hands up to cup Tikki.

“He gave me a key.”

“You can’t just enter his apartment at 3 am,” Tikki tries.

“I’ll knock,” Marinette says, looking beyond Tikki at the window again. Tikki’s deep sigh gets her attention.

“You’re in a very vulnerable state right now. I’m worried you don’t know what kind of situation you’re getting yourself into.”

“Tikki, I just need to talk to him,” Marinette says, feeling her chest grow tight. Her fingers tingle with the urge to fidget. Had she not been holding Tikki, she’d be drumming her fingers against her thighs. “He’s the only one of my friends who will really get it.”

“He loves your father.” Tikki says. Marinette forgets to breathe for a minute as an image of them all playing Mario Kart together pops into her head.

“We could help each other,” Marinette says. Tikki pauses at the sight of Marinette’s eyes getting glossy in the moonlight.

“Oh Mari-”

“I’ll just knock a couple times. If he doesn’t answer we’ll leave.” Tikki doesn’t have the chance to protest as Marinette is already moving to unlock the entrance.

Despite the certainty she felt walking up the steps, Marinette’s hand pauses mid-air before she knocks. She uncurls her fingers and rests her palm against the cold door. She takes a step forward and drops her forehead against the door. She curls her fingers and knocks two times as promised. When a few minutes of silence pass by Marinette sees Tikki float into her peripheral. She feels her skin tighten and she quickly moves to knock twice more.

“Marinette we agreed-” Tikki says but quickly zips into Marinette’s purse when she hears the door knob rattle. Marinette takes a step back and runs her fingers through her bangs quickly. The door opens and he’s standing in front of her rubbing one eye. The other is half open. He’s leaning against the door. Marinette instantly feels two things. Guilt because he was clearly tired and immediate arousal because his pajama bottoms were laying low on his hips and the muscles in his arm were moving as he rubbed his eye.

“Mari?” he asks and his brow crinkles in confusion briefly. Then in an instant he removes his hand from his eye and moves his weight off the door frame. “Marinette.”

It’s the way he says her full name. Like he laced each letter with all his love for her. She knows immediately that he knows her father is dead, so she doesn’t cry or hesitate when she says her next words.

“My dad is dead.”

Adrien places a hand on her shoulder and for a minute they just feel the weight of those words in the air. Then Adrien purses his lips and nods.

“I have cold pizza, half a bottle of Jack, and all the seasons of Parks and Rec on Netflix.”

Marinette feels a lightness that has her straightening her back and stopping to feel the breath in her lungs.

“Are we going to skip seasons one and two?”

“We never mention those first two seasons,” Adrien says and she’s surprised when muffled giggle escapes through her closed lips. Adrien smiles at her and she takes a second to appreciate how dazzling it is. He moves the hand on her shoulder so that he can wrap his arm around her. He leads her to his couch and kicks the door shut with his foot.

“Pepperoni or cheese?” he asks, when he’s satisfied that she’s settled comfortably on his couch. Marinette quickly shakes her head, placing a hand to her forehead.

“I don’t really have an appetite,” she says. She begins rubbing her elbows with her hands. Adrien puckers his lips and nods a couple times.

“When’s the last time you ate?” he asks. Marinette tries to think back to the morning but as she rewinds through the day her mind stops abruptly at the image of her Dad’s tongue behind his teeth. She instantly feels a hot, uncomfortable lump in her throat and tries to swallow around it. Her eyes begin to sting. She shakes her head in response and Adrien’s face softens.

“Why don’t I heat you up a couple slices just in case? You don’t have to eat it, but just in case you want to,” Adrien says. She nods again, the pressure in her throat reducing considerably.

Five minutes later, Adrien is laying two slices of pizza on the coffee table in front of Marinette. Despite her earlier position that she wasn’t hungry, the smell of warm cheese has her mouth watering. She quickly grabs the plate. Adrien sits down next to her, trying to hide his small, grateful smile. Marinette moans when the first bite settles warmly in the pit of her empty stomach. She’s three or four bites in when she notices Adrien patting his thighs. She arches an eyebrow at him, a stringy piece of cheese dangling from the corner of her lips.

“Plop your legs up here real quick,” he says. She doesn’t question it, just kicks off her crocs and places her legs on top of him. He plucks her Chat Noir themed fuzzy socks and laughs.

“Nice,” he teases. She sticks her tongue out at him. He moves his hands down the top of her feet and places two fingers gently on the red skin of her shins. She hisses.

“What happened here?” he says, running the two fingers up and down her shin softly.

“Burned myself,” she says through a mouthful of pizza.

“I got some ointment in my bathroom, hold on,” Adrien says, removing her legs from his lap gently. Marinette pauses in her eating. Her head lolls to the soft cushion on the sofa. A soft smile that grew out of a warmth in her chest graces her face. Adrien rushes back and places her legs back on his lap. He meticulously rubs the cream into her shin. When he’s done he caps the ointment and puts it on the coffee table.

“Good?”

Marinette places that pizza on the coffee table, rubs her hands on her pajama shorts and reaches over to rub Adrien’s shoulder affectionately.

“Good. Thank you,” she says. Adrien’s face grows pink and he focuses on shifting Marinette’s feet on his lap a little. She stifles a giggle and lays back down on the couch cushion.

“Let’s start the show,” Adrien says, and fumbles around for the remote. Adrien picks a random episode and presses play. Marinette reaches for her pizza again and is about to take a bite when the theme music starts playing.

“What are you kids watching?” Tom Dupain said, dropping a plate piled high with chocolate chip cannolis in front of the pair. Marinette groaned and moved a couple of inches away from Adrien so that the fabric of their jeans was no longer touching. The theme song of Parks and Rec began to play.

“Ooh your mom and I love this show!” he said, grabbing one of a cannoli and sinking into the recliner. Adrien chuckled and grabbed a cannoli.

“Thanks for the cannolis sir!” Adrien chirped. Tom waved a hand non committedly.

“You know, your mom tells me I look a lot like that gentleman on his show. What’s his name? Rob? No no, it’s Ron!”

“Dad, you do not look like Ron Swanson!” Marinette groaned, irritation prickling under her skin. Adrien swallowed the huge bite he took of his cannoli.

“Actually I can see the resemblance. You guys both have some pretty kick-ass mustaches,” Adrien commented. He blushed, afraid that Marinette’s father would disapprove of his open cursing. A loud laugh exploded from Tom and he clapped his hands animatedly.

“See sweetheart. The model has spoken. Ron Swanson and I have some ‘kick-ass mustaches’,” Tom said, wiggling his brows. Marinette rolled her eyes.

“Dad, don’t you have a cake to decorate or something?” Marinette urged.

“What cake?” Tom Dupain asked, rubbing crumbs out of his mustache pensively. Suddenly he sits up abruptly. “Oh. Oh!” he said quickly looking between Marinette and Adrien. “You guys want alone time, is it?”

“Oh my God,” Marinette said, sinking her immediately burning face into both of her hands. Adrien can’t help the laugh that erupts passed his lips, greatly amused at his friend’s embarrassment.

Now, looking at the screen in front of her, Marinette is struck by how much her father does look like Ron Swanson. She feels her throat burn intensely and a single tear falls down onto the half eaten slice of pizza on her plate. She wants to tell her dad that she finally sees what her mom saw the whole time.

She puts the pizza back on the coffee table quietly and tries to talk her way out of the tears quickly sliding down her cheeks in rapid succession. She desperately tries to push them off her cheeks but every time her finger wipes away one drop, another two come to replace it. Her chest is burning with the need to sob.

She looks towards Adrien and he’s staring intensely at the screen. She knows he must hear her. She keeps on sniffling uncontrollably. But his eyes remained fixed on the screen in front of him. She knows he’s trying to give her privacy. It’s so sweet that she can’t help the loud, guttural sob that rips from her chest. She uses both hands to cover her face, the skin of her palms instantly getting wet. Adrien, stops pretending he can’t hear her and pauses the TV.

“Oh Mari,” he says, rubbing a hand up and down her thigh.

“You’re- you’re so nice,” she cries into her hands. Feeling her lips quiver against her wrists. “My dad loved you. So so much. Even after everything that happened between us.”

Adrien’s own eyes begin to water as he begins rubbing circles on Marinette’s legs. “I loved him too. A lot.” Adrien says, his voice cracking slightly. Marinette curls up into herself slightly.

“How am I supposed to do this Adrien?” Marinette asks, finally removing her hands from her face. Snot is falling from her nose and strands of her bangs are sticking out in weird places.

“It feels-” her voice breaks and she has to take a deep breath. “It feels like there was a long string between me and my Dad. And-and he’d hold one end and I’d hold the other and we’d both just- we’d both just kind of pin our memories of the two of us between us. On the string,” Marinette feels like she sounds hysterical. She’s moving her hands around wildly as she speaks. Adrien’s stares at her attentively.

“But now he’s not there,” Marinette cries, and pushes her bangs up with her hand. Digging her fingers in her hair. “He’s not there to hold his end of the string. And the memories are just falling all around me. And I just keep stumbling on them and...and-” Marinette says, and she places her other hand on her forehead.

“And it hurts?”

“And it hurts.” Marinette finishes, removing his hands from her head and dropping them from onto her lap. She moves her legs off of Adrien’s lap and sits next to him close enough for the hair on his arm to tickle the skin of her arm. It grows quiet and Marinette begins to focus on how her fuzzy socks look against Adrien’s printed area rug.

Adrien thinks carefully about what to say next. When his mother died, he used to hate when people would tell him they were sorry. It always felt stitched with discomfort and insincerity.

“I wish there was something I could do to make it hurt less,” Adrien finally says. Marinette moves her fingers slowly over his and interlocks them.

“Just being here is helping,” Marinette says. Marinette looks at Adrien, the wetness in her eyes making them look even larger and softer than usual. Behind them, outside of Adrien’s window, they hear the first chirp of a new morning.

#marichat #LadyNoir #adribug #adrinette #adrienette #miraculousladybug

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ask-the-phan-site · 5 years ago

Text

Phan Cam: Phantoms vs Phantoms

>Amity Park, Minnesota, USA. We came here to fulfill a request on a new target in the city most famous for its own phantoms.

Wouldn’t you know? We came here expecting to see ghosts, but everything here just looks like any other town in America.

Give it a second.

>We waited. And sure enough...

BANG!

>Something flew past us and into a wall that collapsed.

Holy shit! You weren’t kiddin’!

>Then, something just phased out of the rubble.

(Art by the original creator of the show, Butch Hartman.)

Well, I guess that’s the end of that truce.

>Then, a ghost emerges forth.

You may have saved the world and the Ghost Zone, kid, but it doesn’t change who or what you are. When I look at you, I still see that punk who wondered into the Ghost Zone and doesn’t know what he’s doing. Someone who needs to be taught a lesson... And I’m the ghost who will teach it.

Danny Phantom: There’s just one problem with that... This punk kid is a man now. And more powerful than ever.

>The fight continues.

That was so cool!

Just try not to forget why we’re here.

Find our target, Vlad Masters, learn his keywords, and take his heart.

Right. So let’s get looking.

Okay. I checked the town directory. I know where we need to go.

>Vlad Masters’ Mansion.

Isn’t this place suppose to be in Wisconsin?

Oracle: As a precaution, if he doesn’t become mayor of Amity Park, Vlad had his mansion moved here to keep an eye on things. Including Axion Labs, the ghost activities, and of course... Maddie Fenton.

I see.

Oracle: I already put his name and this mansion in the Nav. This is definitely where his Palace is. But we still need to know the distortion. What does Vlad see this place as?

Panther: If I had to guess, it must be something that has to do with obsession. Maybe a museum?

Nav: Conditions have not been met.

Fox: I don’t think he’s like that. Perhaps it’s this Ghost Zone everyone speaks of.

Nav: Conditions have not been met.

Skull: This might take some time. I don’t think we’re gonna make it to graduation.

Violet: I don’t think that might be a problem. Our requestor gave us a hint... Valerie Gray.

Do you really think she can help?

Violet: It’s worth a try. I already looked her up. It appears after she finished high school, she moved back to Amity Park. She has an apartment not far from here.

Then let’s get to it!

>A little later, we were now in front of an apartment building. After waiting a while, we managed to see a woman in a red jumpsuit flying by on a hoverboard.

Violet: There she is! Excuse me, Ms. Gray! Excuse me, can I have a word with you?

Hmm. I wonder what she wants.

>Ms. Gray makes a hand motion to us saying that she would like to see us in her apartment. We go up and she lets us in. Inside, it looked a lot like some kind of command center.

Violet: Thank you for inviting us in, Ms. Gray.

Ms. Gray: You’re welcome. Say, haven’t I seen you all in Dream FES?

Violet: (a bit happy) Ah, you saw that?

Ms. Gray: An old friend from high school was watching it online. I got curious and watched it myself.

Joker: And... you’ve been having weird dreams?

Ms. Gray: Well... Yes. Actually, a lot of people have been having dreams since Dream FES... But so far, no problems. So, things are fairly normal... Well, as normal as a town full of ghosts can be.

>I guess that’s a relief.

Ms. Gray: What’s with that look?

No reason.

Ms. Gray: So, what brings all of you here? Doesn’t the school year in Japan end this month?

Panther: We just thought about we’d take a last minute trip before college keeps us busy for a while. And we thought that while we’re here, we would get to know this place a little more.

Ms. Gray: Really? I would think that you could get better info from our town blog or even Mayor Foley.

Panther: We thought we could get info from places no one would think to get it because they might know more.

Ms. Gray: Fair enough. So what do you want to know?

Noir: Well, we know you might find this subject a bit sore, but... What can you tell us about your old boss, Vlad “Plasmius” Masters?

>Ms. Gray suddenly just froze. And then, a look of anger is seen on her face.

Ms. Gray: That creep who tricked me into doing his dirty work? That guy doesn’t deserve to be known about! He uses people and ghosts just to get what he wants. How sick can one man get? Why would you want to know about him?

Queen: (a little nervous) We thought we could look into the mind of a supervillain to know more about them. You know, like last minute school work.

Ms. Gray: But aren’t you already friends with the Wall Crowler? Can’t you ask him to bring one to you?

Queen: I doubt he can get us a villain with ghost powers. We thought of asking you because you used to work for him.

Ms. Gray: (groans) Fine. What do you want to know?

Queen: Well, we know he brought his mansion here from Wisconson. What does he think of it?

Ms. Gray: I don’t know. I’ve never actually been to it. But if I had to guess... It would probably have to do with Maddie Fenton. Seriously, that guy’s obsessed with her. The lady’s already married and has kids! He even named his cat after her. I swear, it’s like... It’s like he worships her day and night.

Worships her day and night? Like, in a temple?

Ms. Gray: Pretty much.

Queen: Thank you, I think that’s all we need to know.

Ms. Gray: That’s it?

Queen: You’d be surprised how much you just helped us.

Ms. Gray: (a little confused) ... Okay. I suppose.

Queen: That’s good to hear. Again, thank you, Ms. Gray.

Ms. Gray: ... You know what? Just call me Valerie. Val for short.

Alright then, Val.

>With that, we leave... Val, however, was curious about what we just said.

>Back at the mansion, we gathered.

Oracle: Okay, let’s see if it works! Temple.

Nav: Results found. Updating guidance system.

We’re in! Are we ready?

>We all nod in agreement.

It’s showtime!

>Behind some bushes.

Val: What on earth?

Nav: Beginning navigation.

>The familiar red wave passes over us. When it was over, the mansion had transformed into a temple version of itself with a large statue of Maddie Fenton wearing northing but a large white cloth and in the same pose as the Birth of Venus.

Oh my! I know Maddie Fenton looks a little perfect for that pose, but this might be a little too much.

Are you nuts!? It’s disgusting! I can’t believe this is how he sees this place! Vlad needs to get a life and leave her alone!

Queen: Panther, keep it down. The Shadows could hear us.

Mona: She right. Look, our clothes haven’t changed yet. That means we haven’t been perceived as a threat yet. So we need to be careful and be alert.

Joker: For now, let’s just see what we can find.

>We nod and go on... Back behind the bushes...

Val: What is going on?

>At the entrance, we look around. We know we can’t go in through the front entrance, so we try to find another way in. After searching for a while, we find what looks like a side door to the servant quarters.

Skull: I’m surprised this place has somethin’ like this.

Queen: It may be a temple, but it’s still a mansion.

Mona: Give me a second, I’ll pick the lock.

>After a couple of attempts, he manages to get the door open. Inside what looks like a kitchen, the staff was busy making meals. What made them a bit disturbing, they all looked the same: A big fat man in an orange jumpsuit with black glove and boots and he had black hair with white high lights.

Skull: What’s with these guys?

Queen: If I had to guess, this is Jack Fenton, Maddie’s husband. Vlad’s been jealous of him ever since the accident that gave Vlad his powers.

Panther: I wonder how did someone like Jack Fenton get her.

Noir: Who knows? Love is blind, but a perfect guide.

You can say that again.

Indeed.

Mona: I know they’re cognitions, but we don’t want to get their attention. Does anyone know a way past them?

>I look around and I see a support beam stretching over the kitchen.

Joker: We can try that.

>We get on the beam and walk over it. We manage to get to the other side and managed to find a way to the foyer. The place was completely decored with all things Maddie Fenton, including a large nude statue of Maddie with a nude Vlad.

How could this be? This isn’t even art anymore.

This is bullshit! Vlad is no different than Kamoshida!

???: I can see that.

>We quickly turn to see we have been followed... No way, it’s...

Val: Care to explain all of this?

Oh no, this could be bad!

Val: It’s about to get worse if you don’t talk. What’s going on? I know this has something to do with Vlad.

Joker: Well... Maybe.

Val: I know you guys are going to do something to him... And I want in.

What!?

Val: You heard me. I want in.

Joker: (whisper) Mona, what do we do?

Mona: (also whispering) I don’t know, Joker. Valerie may be a great fighter, but that’s ghosts, this is Shadows. But we can’t send her off because she might tell someone.

Joker: I guess we have no choice. We have to let her join in. Besides, she knows Vlad and might be able to help us. (out loud) Alright, you can come with us, but stay close to us.

Val: Good. I won’t let you down. Vlad owes me big time for everything he’s done to me.

?????? ????: You think so?

Everyone: !

>We turn up to the balcony at the end of the hall to see a man who looked like he was dressed like some kind of pope in black robes and his pope hat had a picture of Maddie Fenton instead of a cross. He also had blue skin, a black goatee, shart teeth, and his eyes were completely yellow (I think they’re supposed to be red).

Val: (with a look of hatred) Vlad Plasmius.

Panther: That’s him?

Oracle: More like his Shadow.

Val: His what?

Shadow Vlad: Valerie Gray, as clueless as ever. And you brought these thieves over as well? If you are trying to get back into my good graces, I’d rather you bring me Goddess Maddie’s heart... Or Danny Phantom’s head.

Val: Now that sounds a little morbid, even for you. But it doesn’t matter, you’re here, now I can get my revenge!

>Val readies her weapon.

Shadow Vlad: Foolish girl, did you really think I wouldn’t be prepared for this?

>Shadow Vlad snaps his fingers and three Shadows that look like ghosts appear. Val began shooting at each one but they keep dodging it.

Shadow Vlad: You’re out of your league, Gray, these aren’t your average spooks that you’re used to. I rule this sacred place with my beloved Maddie. No one shall defy the rules.

>Suddenly, in a flash of blue energy, our clothes change.

Our clothes.

He must perceive us as a threat now.

Yes, we can fight now. Let’s do it!

Val: You’re going to fight?

It’s what we do.

Shadow Vlad: Fine. If you wish to become ghosts yourself, be my guest.

>With a snap of his fingers, the Shadows change shape.

Here goes! Persona!

>Necronomicon scans the three Shadows.

Oracle: I got it! They’re weak to Nuclear and Gunfire. Queen, Noir, beat ‘em up!

Queen: We won’t fail you. Noir?

I’m with you all the way!

Queen and Noir: Persona!

I’m in, too. Persona!

(Hope we don’t get flagged for this.)

>I change Personas.

Joker: Persona!

>Anzu 1 uses Masukukaja. Anzu 2 uses Garula on me. Anzu 3 also uses Garula on Panther. Johanna uses Marakukaja. Milady uses Triple Down. All the Anzus dodge it. Carmen uses Dekaja. Thoth uses Mafreila. Two of the Anzus were knocked down. I pass the baton to Queen and Johanna uses Freila on the remaining Anzu.

Queen: Let’s wipe ‘em out!

>After the attack, the Anzus were gone.

WARNING

>More Anzus appear.

Oracle: More enemies! Be careful!

>Anzu 1 uses Masukukaja. Anzu 2 uses Garula on me. Anzu 3 uses Garula on Noir, but she dodges it. Johanna uses Mafreila. All the Anzus are gone.

WARNING

>More Anzus appear.

Oracle: More!?

Noir: Don’t worry, we can still take them.

>Milady uses Triple Down and all the Anzus are gone.

WARNING

>Even more Anzus appear this time, with a new Shadow.

Shadow Vlad: Fight all you want, I have more where they came from.

Oracle: He’s right, there’s too many coming!

This looks bad. What are we gonna do?

Oracle: I don’t know. There seems to be too many.

But there has to be something we can do.

Oracle: If only we could find a way out.

Val: I’ll make us a way out.

>Val tries to use blaster, but the Shadows pin her down.

Shadow Vlad: Did you think it would be that easy? After all these years, you still haven’t learned. I am always one step ahead. No matter what you do, I will always win.

Val: (scoffing) And this coming from the guy who got his butt beat by a high schooler.

Shadow Vlad: True, I have had many setbacks, but now I’ve learned. And now that I’ve returned from the void, I can finally take my revenge on the one person other than Jack Fenton who ruined my life. His son. And what of you, Valerie Gray. What have you’ve been up to? You think that now you’re improved on some of your tricks that everyone will treat you better. Come now, girl, in the end, many people still see you as a villain. You tried to destroy the hero who saved Amity Park and the world. I doubt anyone will want to be friends with you now.

Val: I don’t need friends. I only need my approval.

Shadow Vlad: Oh, and what about... Your father?

>Val just became silent.

Shadow Vlad: I see, you haven’t told him, have you? That right after you moved back to Amity Park, you went back to ghost hunting.

Val: I... I was going to tell him. I just... I just...

Shadow Vlad: You just can’t. You’re afraid that if he knew that you went behind his back resuming ghost hunting when he told you to stop for your own safety, he would hate you forever.

Val: That’s... That’s...

Shadow Vlad: Yes. In the end, you’re just Daddy’s girl. You can’t do anything without upsetting someone... But how about you return to work for me? Do this, and I’ll see to it that won’t happen. Ever.

>Val wasn’t sure what to think. What was to be done?

Val: I... I...

>Are you giving up? >Don't do it! >>Find your own answer.

Val: Huh?

Noir: He’s right. I know what it’s like, Valerie chan. I also cared about my father. He was all I had in my life. But I learned that you need to be able to make your own decisions when the time comes. You love your father, that’s why you think of doing this. To protect him. And if your father thinks that what you are doing is wrong, you need to show him that you are doing this for everyone...

Including him.

>Val thought about this.

Joker: Hear her, Valerie, she speaks from experience. You are not alone. You don’t have to do this on your own.

We will help you if you need it most. Believe in us.

>Valerie thought more... She finally knew.

Shadow Vlad: (sarcastic clapping) That’s a fine friendship speech you gave, but you’re just wasting your breath. You are about to become real phantom thieves. So you might as well-

Val: Just can it already!

Shadow Vlad: !

>Val manages to push away all the Shadows pinning her down. We could tell that Vlad’s Shadow was getting nervous.

Val: I know I can’t undo the past. I know everyone despises me for what I tried to do to Danny. Even I’m starting to regret what I did. But I won’t let that stop me from living. I will keep living the way I think I should with no one telling me what to do. Not my father. Not Danny. Not anyone... ESPECIALLY NOT YOU!

>...

Voice in Val’s head: I see you the real you now.

>Val suddenly clutches her head in pain as her eyes turn a gold color.

Voice in Val’s head: The silence has been broken and you will no longer go unspoken... You can gain the power from within if you are willing to take it... From the beyond, you will accomplish many things... I am thou. Thou art I... Care to see just how far you can go? Then our contract is agreed upon... Though you will walk a different path... It will lead you to the light!

>Then, a mask similar to the on Val once wore appears on her face. But they had some black markings on it. Then, Valerie begins painfully pulling the mask off. When she manages to rip it off, a large burst of energy appears behind her and something appears from it. A woman who looked similar to Carmen, however, her clothes looked more like they came from 19th century America. It was yellow with a white cloak with pictures of red flowers on it, blonde hair, and, instead of love-obsessed men, she had pumpkins.

Val: Amazing. I can feel the magic in this. Right, now I know what I can do about this.

>Valerie’s Persona uses Mafreidyne and destroys all the Anzus.

Whoa! Her Persona is powerful.

Val: Alright, Vlad, you’re next. You won’t be a problem for others again. I’ll make sure of that!

Shadow Vlad: If you say so, feel free to die here. I’ll let the Cleaning Jacks do the rest.

>With a snap, Shadow Vlad was gone and three more Anzus appear.

Val: I may prefer to do things alone, but I will count on friends when we need each other. So I will do what I can for others who need it.

Will you be able to do it?

Val: With Van Tassel by my side, nothing can stop us.

Oracle: That Shadow, Norn, has no weaknesses. And you may have to get a bit strong for this.

Noir: And we’ll do it. Queen? Joker?

Queen: We’re ready.

Joker: Let’s do it.

>Noir and Queen both go Ultimate and I change Personas.

Noir, Queen, and Joker: PERSONA!

>Van Tassel uses Mafreidyne. The three Anzus are knocked down. Val uses Masukukaja. Astarte uses One-shot Kill on Norn. It was a critical hit.

Noir: Time to punish them!

>After the attack, the Anzus are gone, but Norn is still here. Anat uses Marakukaja. Asura uses Atomic Flare. Norn uses Garudyne on Val. But thanks to her Persona, she absorbs it. Van Tassel uses Bufudyne. Norn is Frozen. Astarte uses One-shot Kill. It was a technical hit as the ice shatters. Anat uses Flash Bomb. Norn becomes Dizzy. Asura uses Atomic Flare. It was another technical hit. Norn tries to attack Queen, but it misses. Val uses her blaster. Another technical hit. Noir attacks with her ax. Another technical hit. Anat uses Atomic Flare.

Oracle: I think it’s almost finished. Joker, care to land the final blow?

>With that, Norn was down.

Joker: It’s showtime!

>With that, the battle was over.

Way to go, everyone!

Mona: And I think we have someone new on our team.

Val: Seems that way.

Noir: That Persona was very powerful.

Val: Thanks. I didn’t even know I have one.

Mona: Everyone has a Persona. You just have to know how to use it.

Oracle: But right now, we better leave for now. I’m detecting more Shadows coming.

Joker: Right. Let’s retreat.

>With that, we leave. We’ll be back.

>Today, everyone in Amity Park still comes to the Nasty Burger, even though business has been failing due to the unstable condiments.

>We arrived here to explain the situation.

Val: So, you guys are the famous Phantom Thieves of Hearts.

Skull: Pretty much. You surprised?

Val: Only by the fact that I was considered a target.

Noir: True. But we checked the Metaverse Navigator. You don’t have any distorted desires. Besides, there’s no reason to, anymore. You have a Persona. I think it’s clear that you are a good person.

Val: Now why would you think that?

Beats us. But that’s how it is.

Joker: So, now we have to ask, will you join us and help us take Vlad’s heart? If we don’t, Danny and his love ones are doomed. Including you and your father.

Val: A chance to finally get back at Vlad for everything he’s don? ... I’m in.

Then welcome aboard.

Oracle: Now, I managed to get in contact with a fellow computer freak who visits Amity Park a lot from far away. He says that Vlad plans to take his revenge on the 17 of this month.

Queen: So we must establish a route and deliver the calling card two days prior, the 15.

Val: Then we better do it. (takes up her soda) To our new partnership.

>We take up our sodas and tap them together... Some people noticed.

Hey, Val, long time no- Wait a sec... It is! It’s Ryuji Sakamoto of KUROFUNE!

No kidding, Dad, I recognize that bleached hair anywhere.

Val: Ah, the Baxter Family.

And Kwan.

Hi, Val. It’s been a while.

Hey, Aunt Val.

Val: Hi. Actually, Dash is the one who showed me that live stream of Dream FES.

...

Jazz Baxter: We thought about having a family outing and we don’t mind having another join us since Danny, Sam, and their kids couldn’t make it. And your new friends are welcome, too.

Val: Thanks, but we kind of have this night booked.

Dash Baxter: C’mon, this might be mine and Jessie’s chance to get a boy band autograph.

Dwight Baxter: As if you don’t already have enough already.

Jessie: You’re no fun.

(taking out a pen) Oh, boy. This is gonna be a long night.

>So the night wears on. We will take Vlad’s Treasure and make sure the Fenton/Manson/Baxter Family will be safe.

(Some character images were from ScarletGhostX.)

#phantom thieves cam

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wantedladybug · 5 years ago

Text

There Were Perfect Things

“That’s how it starts. The fever. The rage. The feeling of helplessness that turns good men cruel.”

-Alfred Pennyworth

Marinette sat atop the Parisian rooftop with her knees to her chest, eyes just barely looking over her arms at the street below. As the cars drove by, her mind raced with different thoughts. Should she have gone after the men who did it? Could she have used her powers to save her mom? Not without transforming in front of her parents. But did her secret identity even matter if the people around her were just going to be hurt anyway? The one that lingered the longest was why did she freeze? Why, of all times, was that moment the one where she panicked? Where her mind went blank and all she could do was freeze. Why then was she so helpless?

She was Ladybug! The hero of Paris. And for all her heroics, for all her bravery, the one thing she couldn’t do was anything to help her mom. And now she was gone. What kind of hero was that?

What good was she if she could save all of Paris, protect its people…but not her own mom. Was she even doing enough? She and Chat Noir always did their best to help protect the people of Paris from HawkMoth and the Akumatized. But was that enough? How many other things were she and Chat Noir not acting on?

How many other people besides her mother had suffered? How many more were going to suffer?

For the first time in a long time, the weight of responsibility as Ladybug felt heavy. She tried to bring herself to move, but couldn’t.

“Marinette?” Tikki asked from beside her, “Are you okay?”

No she wasn’t. Of course she wasn’t okay. Her hands tightened on her knees.

“Marinette…please say something. I’m your friend. I’m here for you and want to help. Please. Please?”

She buried her face into her arms. She wasn’t sure Tikki could do anything to help. Some part of her wondered if Hawkmoth was sending an Akuma her way at that very moment. And if he was, would she even be able to resist it?

She could feel Tikki trying her hardest to hug her, to comfort her and assure her everything would be alright. That this wasn’t the end of the world. But it sure felt like it was.

A sudden loud scream from below grabbed her attention and she looked up to see a bus speeding its way down the street around cars and pedestrians. A police car was giving chase, but was keeping its distance. She wasn’t sure if it was the guilt over her mother, or the call of others in need that finally snapped her out of her stupor. But people were in trouble and she wasn’t going to stand idly by.

Not this time.

“Marinette!” Tikki said worriedly as she finally stood up. She said the familiar words and leapt into action, “Tikki! Spots on!”

...

She stopped a carjacking. Or rather a bus jacking. Some guy thought it was a bright idea to take a bus full of people hostage and order the driver to keep moving until his demands were met. But she saved the day.

Like she always should have, leaping in through the window and using her yo-yo to tie the man up before he could get a shot off. Afterwards, the bus stopped and everyone rushed off - leaving the man and Ladybug. As she went to drag the man off, she noticed his face.

The blood rushed to her head with anger and her heart pounded so hard she could hear her own heartbeat in her ears. She could never forget the face of this man. The one who’d run out of the bakery last, turning to look back only once while she knelt at her mom’s side as she died. This man was with the others who robbed her bakery. Before she could do or say anything to him, the police were on board to arrest him themselves. The man cursed loudly as they dragged him off, but she didn’t register any of it. She didn’t even register the police thanking her for saving so many lives. The only she heard was one of the officer’s answer when she asked, “Is it alright if I talk to him alone for a moment?”

“I can’t really let you do that, Ladybug. We have our own procedures to follow in this instance,” the officer answered. She put on her biggest smile, “It’ll be real quick. I promise! I helped save Paris so many times! Can I please get this one teensy little favor?”

The officer scratched his head for a second, obviously contemplating what he should do before nodding and whistling for his colleague’s attention. They stopped short of putting him in the back of a car as he called, “Hang on a second, boys. Ladybug wants to talk to him?”

“Are you serious?” one asked incredulously. The man looked at her with a great big old grin, “I think she likes me.”

She’d never felt so revolted in her life. After a moment, the officer pulled him back out of the car and dragged him over to her, “Make it quick.”

“I will,” she answered, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket. Before any of the officers could stop her, she jumped up to the roof of the nearest building - a four story apartment complex looking over the street. The cops were shouting after her but anything they had to say was drowned out by the man screaming, “HEY! HEY! LET ME GO! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”

She didn’t know what she was doing. Right now, all she felt was anger. Rage. At this man she had brought up to roof with her. If it wasn’t for the handcuffs he had on, he’d probably be trying harder to resist her. At least until she realized she was holding him precariously over the roof’s edge by his jacket. The smile was gone from his face, replaced by a look of surprise and fear.

The thought crossed her mind briefly of simply letting go. Letting him fall. But that wouldn’t bring her mom back. It wouldn’t undo what had been done. So why was she still holding him there? The police were still down below, shouting up at her but she couldn’t hear them properly.

“What do you want?” the man finally worked up the courage to ask. What did she want? Why was she doing all this?

She took a moment to calm herself and breathe, trying to think before she did anything she’d regret. After a moment, she asked “Last night, you robbed a bakery. I want to know who helped you.”

“Look, I don’t know anything about a bakery,” he spat out angrily. She felt her grip loosen. Had she been mistaken? Was this the wrong guy? No, it had to be him. She couldn’t ever forget that face, “I know you were there!”

Her grip loosened a little more so that the guy fell backwards a little. He looked over his shoulder at the ground below, then looked back at her with a small grin, “You can’t do it. You’re Ladybug! The hero of Paris. You’d never kill anyone!”

Her grip weakened again. He was right. What was she doing?

“Besides, take it from me, Ladybug. Fall from this height. Ain’t gonna kill anybody.”

She looked up at him, locking eyes with him for the briefest moment. He could see that mocking smile. That grin on the face that would haunt her forever. The man who took her mom away from her. And the anger came back. So the fall wasn’t going to kill him?

“Good.”

His eyes widened as she let go. His mouth shot opened as he screamed, falling several stories until he landed on his legs with a sickening crunch. He screamed in agony, legs shattered just below his knees. Her heart was racing again. It was satisfying to watch him fall, to watch him hit the ground like that. She used her yo-yo to grab him by his arm and hoisted him back up - this time dangling him just above the street, “I’m not going to ask again.”

“Okay! Okay!” the man said, holding up a hand to shield himself, “It was supposed to be practice for another job! Rehearsal! I don’t know any of the other guys. None of us did. We all got the same call - we don’t know his name either.”

She let her yo-yo slide a little and the man panicked, “Wait! Okay, look. He gave me a burner phone! You can use that! He’s the only contact!”

He reached into his jacket and produced an old flip phone. She hadn’t seen on.e like that in ages and lifted him back up to take it out of his hand. Once she had it, she lowered him back down to the ground and dropped him off in front of the police. They quickly surrounded him to check on him, one of the officers stopping to look up at her with a look of mortified terror.

She didn’t want to do that. She wished she didn’t need to. But just looking that man in the eye made her so…

And she couldn’t deny there was a certain feeling of satisfaction in seeing him get what he deserved. He took her mom from her. She took his legs. But all of that lasted for a minute before she realized she was smiling. Why was she smiling? The sinking feeling of mortification hit her like ton of bricks. It snapped her back to her senses just long enough to realize what she’d done. She looked down at the phone in her hands and the guilt washed over her. What was she doing? Had she really done that? Scared and panicked, she used her yo-yo to get as far away from here as she could. What was she doing? What was she becoming?

#Miraculous Ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug #Ladybug Public Enemy AU #Marinette just dropped a guy off a roof #Chapter 2

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turtle-steverogers · 6 years ago

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Blackened Lungs

i was gonna do a mini greaser au but then this idea came to me instead

warnings: smoking, death mentions

ships: platonic ralbert mostly, but sprace is there for like a second

editing: nah

“Hey, Race,” Albert cracked open the door to Race’s bedroom to find it empty. He furrowed his eyebrows, confused. Race’s shoes had been by the door, he was definitely home.

The longer he stood there, the tenser the atmosphere seemed to get. Something was off, but he couldn’t tell what. He stepped further into the room and wrinkled his nose as the smell hit. The acrid scent of tobacco drifted throughout the room, causing Albert’s eyes to water. He frowned, backing out of the room before the sour odor could latch onto him. The pungent stench of cigarettes hadn’t plagued their apartment since Race had quit smoking half a year earlier. He peeked his head out to the living room in case he had missed Race asleep on the couch, but there was still no sign of his roommate.

He jumped when a door opened down the hallway and he craned his neck to see Race, padding out of the bathroom, holding a towel around his waist. His hair was mussed up from drying it and still obviously damp in some places. There were dark circles around his eyes and he hadn’t seemed to notice Albert as he crossed to his bedroom. He startled when he spotted Albert standing near his door and immediately moved to cover himself before he remembered he was wearing a towel. From where he stood, Albert could smell Race’s strong lavender body wash- the kind he only used when he was about to go on a date with Spot. Or trying to hide the smell of smoke. Albert could infer which one it was.

“Heya, Al,” Race said, putting on a tight smile, “What’s up?”

Albert bit his lip, trying to remember what he had intended to ask Race in the first place, “Uh,” he blinked, coming back to himself, “Oh, yeah, Jack wanted to know if we could bring the beer to movie night tonight.”

Race shrugged nonchalantly, “Sure, I think we have an extra case on top of the fridge.”

“Perfect,” Albert said, distractedly, “Are you okay?” He asked, avoiding asking Race about the cigarette smell directly. He knew from experience that that wouldn’t get him anywhere.

Race’s eyes flashed imperceptibly, and if Albert didn’t know his best friend as well as he did, he would have missed it, “Yeah, I’m cool,” Race said, shortly, “Lemme change, then we’ll leave.”

He left no room for further discussion as he shut the door to his bedroom. Albert hesitated in the doorway for a moment, debating whether or not to push the subject, before deciding against it and turning to walk to the kitchen. As predicted, there was a full case of Budweiser on top of the fridge and Albert stood on his tiptoes in order to hoist it down. It wasn’t the highest quality beer, so Albert grabbed the half-full bottle of Pinot Noir that they kept handy as well. Race came out of his bedroom, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. He had a pair of cryptid print socks on and was carrying his converse in one hand and a fidget cube in the other. His shoulders were drawn up ever so slightly. He was tense. Albert couldn’t help the worry that was slowly consuming his mind. What was wrong with Race?

Race planted himself on the kitchen floor, placing down his fidget cube momentarily in favor of slipping on his shoes. Albert waited until Race stood back up, the usual bounce in his actions gone. He wordlessly grabbed the wine bottle from Albert and the two of them left for Jack’s, Albert toeing on his own shoes before leaving.

They made casual conversation in the car, but nothing compared to their usual banter. Race was furiously clicking his fidget cube the entire car ride, which was driving Albert insane if he was being honest. But Race clearly needed to fiddle with it more than Albert needed his patience, so he bit his tongue.

As soon as they arrived at Jack’s, Race’s rigid demeanor dropped. Or it seemed to, but as Albert watched him interact with their friends throughout the night, hints to his unstable mood were slipping through his facade. He’d winced at every loud noise in the bad horror movie they were watching and when Spot tried to put his arm around him, as he usually did, Race flinched away. Albert could see Spot cast a concerned glance at his boyfriend, but Race kept his eyes transfixed on the movie, though it was clear his mind was elsewhere. The movie finished and Katherine pulled out several board games for the group. Albert went to the kitchen to retrieve the wine and they enjoyed some lighthearted competition, accentuated by the pleasant buzz of alcohol.

“Hey, did y’all hear about that guy who broke outta jail?” Jack asked at one point during a game of Sorry. Race was suddenly very interested in his glass of wine.

“Oh yeah, the uh, the one that killed his wife and child a while back?” Crutchie asked, toying with the game cards.

“Yeah, I think so,” Jack said, “Apparently he like, went batshit and choked one of the guards, then dipped before anyone could even blink.”

Race had visibly paled by now, but no one else seemed to notice besides Albert, not even Spot.

“That’s wild as fuck,” Spot mumbled, “I hope they find him soon.”

Race stood abruptly, earning a few questioning looks from the group. He downed the rest of his glass in one gulp, before saying, “Be right back,” and leaving down the hall without another word.

Spot and Albert glanced at one another, a silent question echoing between them.

After a moment, Albert stood too, “I’ll go.”

Spot nodded and Albert walked in the direction that Race had disappeared in. It took him a few minutes, but he eventually found the other man on the fire escape, legs dangling over the ledge. He had one arm braced above him on the scaffolding and the other pressed underneath his thigh. A cigarette dangled from his lips, the burning end glowing in the darkness.

Albert sat down next to his friend, who didn’t acknowledge him.

“So you have been smoking again,” Albert said after a beat. It wasn’t a question.

Race simply hummed. Albert spared a glimpse at him, trying to read his expression, but his head was turned the other way.

“It’s bad for your lungs, you know.”

Race let out a humourless laugh, a puff of smoke billowing into the air with his exhale, “People always tell me that like I don’t know it.”

There was another tense pause as Race took another drag, turning his head to look in front of him again.

“What’s wrong?” Albert asked.

Unsurprisingly, Race didn’t answer straight away, but Albert waited patiently nonetheless.

“The guy who broke out of jail is my dad,” The statement was made in a monotone voice, yet it sent chills down Albert’s spine.

The momentary fear was replaced immediately with confusion, “Wait a minute, I know your dad. I’ve met him.”

“You’ve met my adopted dad. My real one killed my mother and little sister when I was eight. I got out unharmed, but I watched him do it. No one knows I was there. Not even the police.”

Albert sat in stunned silence as the words sunk in. He tried to think of something to say, but all that came out was, “I didn’t know you were adopted.”

Race shook his head, extinguishing his cigarette on the metal bar before flicking it off the fire escape, “None of you did. I didn’t tell anyone, not even Spot, because I never wanted to associate with that man again.” He was speaking calmly, but the disgust and anger in his voice was noticeable.

“I’m so sorry,” Albert murmured.

Race was quiet, his head now resting on his arms. For a brief moment, Albert wondered if Race was crying, but when he spoke, his voice came out steady, “I’m scared. Terrified.” The magnitude of his words were not reflected in his matter-of-fact tone.

Albert pursed his lips, “I can only imagine what you must be feeling.”

Race hummed again and reached into his jacket pocket with shaking hands, pulling out his box of cigarettes, as well as his lighter.

“But you gotta stop that,” Albert said, nodding to the cigarette Race had just pulled out.

“I know,” Race mumbled, “I fucking know and I’m mad at myself for doing it, because it took so much of me to quit, but…” he trailed off, shaking his head. This time when he spoke, there was a waver in his voice, “I don’t know how else to deal.”

His hands were shaking so hard now that it was a wonder how he was still holding the cigarettes. Albert carefully reached over and took the items out of Race’s hands, placing the cigarette that Race had taken out back in its original spot.

“We can figure this out, man,” Albert said, shifting to face Race, “I’m here for you- we’re here for you. I know the others don’t know, and I’m not asking you to tell them anything that would make you uncomfortable, but we’re here to help you.”

Race drew in a shaky breath, “I don’t want him to find me,” his voice was small and vulnerable and so unlike the Race that Albert knew. It was frightening.

“He can’t do anything to you,” Albert assured him, trying to convince him, “I promise I won’t let him.”

Race nodded, scooting over to bury his head in the crook of Albert’s neck. Albert put a protective arm around him.

“Can you not tell the others?” Race asked against his skin, “I may talk to Spot about it tomorrow or something, but…”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Albert promised, “But I swear I’m here.”

“I’m sorry I smoked,” Race said, ashamed.

“I’m not mad or anything,” Albert said, “I can understand that you’re going through something hard and trying best to deal in a way you know that works, but I just don’t want you hurting yourself, dude. Do you think you can try and stay away from them from here on out? Come find me when you’re nervous instead?”

Race pulled away and Albert was shocked to see that he had been crying, “Yeah, I’ll try. Thank you, Al.”

Albert squeezed his arm reassuringly, “We’ll get through this.”

Race nodded, wiping at his face, “We will.”

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

TAG LIST:

@bencookisagod

@we-dont-sell-papes

@aw-jus-let-em-try

@well-the-kids-do-too

@spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn

@thatpoorguysheadisspinning

@labert-dasilver

@andthewoildwillknow

@the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog

@sunshine-e-cigarettes

@have-we-got-news-for-you

@musical-shitposts

@thebroadwayaesthetic

@thomasbeingthomas

@irondad-spiderson-duo

@snakesarenonexistent

@i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing

@kpop-kk

@mentallytiredgoat

@yxseminx

#newsies fic #newsies #ralbert #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #chaotic boys #but more like #chaotic sad boys #race is sad #why do i always torture race #thats a lie #i torture al a lot too #yikes im sorry

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choleson · 7 years ago

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JackScriptedEye Week Day 3:

The prompt was to put Jack into your favorite universe. And as it would happen, I accidentally wrote a lot (don’t worry, I’ll put it under a read more). I placed Jack in the Miraculous Ladybug universe and I hope its enjoyable to read, even if you haven’t watched the show before.

Jack flopped into the chair and sighed. He still amazed him how many people come to see him, even at a convention in Paris. He squinted one eye open when he heard chittering nearby.

A squirrel sat on the railing of the balcony, staring at Jack curiously. If Signe wasn’t taking a shower, Jack would have called her to come look.

“Hey there buddy.” He said, reaching a hand out slowly. The squirrel watched, walking backwards a bit when his hand got too close. Jack smiled. Who would have thought a squirrel would be comfortable enough to get this close to him. He looked over to a balcony next to his own to see a lady holding out some food for a few squirrels on her balcony. Jack looked back into his room, wondering if he had any food he could give to the squirrel on his balcony.

Jack whipped his head back to the neighbouring balcony when he heard a scream. A small group of squirrels were climbing all over the lady, almost completely covering her. The lady fell over in her attempts to get them off. Suddenly, the squirrels climbed underneath the lady’s body, raising her up in the air.

“What the…” Jack watched as the squirrels carried the lady back into her hotel room. He heard the noise of a door opening and shutting. Jack dragged a hand through his hair. How the hell can squirrels be able to pick a fully grown person and work out how to open a door? He turned his head back to his own balcony railing where at least ten squirrels now stood, all in a line. Jack slowly walked backwards until he was back in his hotel room, shutting the glass door to the balcony.

“Sam!” Jack called out.

There was some rustling in a bag by the bed. Suddenly, a small green creature popped out and flew over to Jack. It blinked it’s single, blue eye at Jack. “Something up?”

“Yeah...there’s squirrels out there that are kidnapping people.”

With that, Jack heard another scream from outside. “Shit…”

“Wow...that does seem like a problem…” Sam said, taking a glance outside curiously. “Well?”

Jack nodded, understanding. “Jackaboy Man, away.”

Sam flew towards the bracelet on Jack’s wrist, going straight into the little eyeball charm attached to it. Red sparks began to shoot out of Jack, starting from his feet and heading up to his head. His clothes began to transform into a red spandex suit with a hood. A blue mask appeared around his eyes.

Jack looked down at himself. “That will never not be cool.” He exclaimed softly. He had only had the bracelet that had brought Sam, a kwami, into his life for about a year. And with it came the ability to transform into a superhero.

Jack looked out of the balcony window to see that the squirrels had disappeared. At least that meant he could leave that way now without fear of being attacked. He looked down the hallway of the hotel room. He could still hear the water running. Hopefully Signe will be alright if I leave for a little bit, Jack told himself.

With that, Jackaboy Man walked out onto the balcony. Taking a deep breath, he leapt to the roof of a building nearby. Thank God his superpowers included being able to jump far.

Jackaboy Man rushed from rooftop to rooftop, trying to follow where the squirrels were taking people. He paused for a moment.

“How are there so many squirrels in Paris?” he asked no-one in particular. Jackaboy shook his head. He needed to keep moving. He turned around and prepared himself to jump to the next rooftop. But just as he began to move, something wrapped around his legs, causing him to fall on his face.

“What the fook...Ow…” Jackaboy rolled over, shaking his head. Wrapped around his legs was some black wire attached to a polka dotted case. He wondered where it had come from as he began to untangle himself.

“Who are you?” A feminine voice said in French above him.

Jackaboy looked up and saw two figures standing above him. A girl with blue hair in two pigtails in a polka dot suit and mask and a blonde haired boy in what looked like a leather catsuit. He immediately knew who they were. Ladybug and Chat Noir; the superheroes of Paris.

“Umm…” Jackaboy drawled. He just realized how little French he knew. “I’m Jackaboy Man.”

Ladybug’s brow furrowed and cocked her head to the side. “Jack...aboy...Man?” She said slowly.

Jackaboy nodded.

“d'où viens-tu?” Chat asked.

Jackaboy began to rub the back of his neck. “Umm...sorry...I don’t speak much French.”

Chat and Ladybug looked at each other briefly before looking back at Jackaboy. “You are English?” Chat asked slowly and formally.

“Technically Irish, but yeah.”

Chat nodded and turned to Ladybug. They began to talk to each other in French. Jackaboy could only tell from their voices that they were debating something. Probably if he could be trusted.

After some time, Ladybug crouched down by Jackaboy. “Sorry if we have seemed rude. Chat and I are simply...cautious of new people.” She pulled her hand back and the wire around Jackaboy’s legs began to retract. Ladybug held a hand out for a handshake.

“That’s understandable...I’d be cautious of new people coming out of nowhere as well.” Jackaboy replied, shaking Ladybug’s hand.

Chat blinked in shock. “You speak fast.”

Jackaboy smiled. The amount of comments in his videos that have said the same thing.

The three superheroes turned their heads to a scream coming from nearby.

“Merde.” Ladybug mumbled. “Jackaboy, do you want to help us sort out this mess?”

Jackaboy nodded, standing up. “Yep, I’m ready to help out.” He looked at Chat and Ladybug, seeing how smaller they are compared to him. He had almost forgotten that they were meant to be children.

“Good.” She said, throwing her yo-yo towards a nearby chimney.

“Since he’s Irish, does that mean we are double as lucky today milady?” Chat asked cheekily.

In response, Ladybug looked back and rolled her eyes before flying off, following the wire of her yo-yo.

Chat chuckled as he grabbed a pole from behind his back. He held it in front of himself. It extended, allowing him to vault over to the next rooftop.

Jackaboy took a couple of steps back before running after his temporary teammates.

The heroes stopped on a rooftop at the edge of a park. Below them, thousands of squirrels scurried around, throwing people into cells that looked like they were made of trees. A figure weaved themselves in between these cages. They wore a giant golden crown and a royal looking red cape. A grey, bushy looking tail poked out from underneath this tail. The figure also held a golden scepter.

The superheroes landed in the park, taking cover behind a tree.

“Fellow subjects, bow to me, the King of the Squirrels.” The figure spoke out loudly. The people trapped inside the cages began to all shout out.

“Wait a fookin minute.” Jackaboy said. That voice...it sounded familiar. He poked his head around the tree. “Mark?”

The figure turned around, revealing their face. It was indeed Mark, albeit his skin tone was slightly grey. “My name is the King of the Squirrels!” He shouted back angrily.

“What happened to ya? What are you doing?”

“I’m ruling over my subjects. Now, are going to become a subject willingly or will you have to join the other’s”

“He’s not going anywhere.” Chat said, coming out from behind his tree. Ladybug joined him.

“Ah...Ladybug and Chat Noir I presume. You will be fine subjects for my kingdom. But first I’ll need two items from you. Your miraculouses please.”

“You won’t get them.” Ladybug said defiantly.

Jackaboy raised an eyebrow. Why did Mark want a pair of miraculouses, the jewelry that allowed them to transform?

“And I asked so chivalrously as well. Looks like I have no other choice.” The King of the Squirrels raised his sceptre before pointing it towards the heroes. The squirrels in the vicinity turned around and began to run towards them.

Ladybug and Chat positioned themselves, ready for battle despite being way out numbered. But Jackaboy knew how he could help.

He stepped in front of the two heroes. “You might want to cover your ears.” He told them. He covered his own ears when they looked slightly confused just in case. When they had covered their ears, Jackaboy turned back towards the oncoming horde of squirrels. He took a deep breath before releasing a sonic shout that sent the squirrels flying and made the King of Squirrels curl over in pain, blocking his ears. Jackaboy felt a slight twinge of guilt for hurting the little critters and his friend.

Chat and Ladybugs mouths were open in surprise. “How much can you do that?” Ladybug asked.

“As much as I need...but it does tire me out a bit.”

Ladybug nodded. “Think you can keep them mostly away?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Chat, see if you can give our ‘king’ a special room.”

Chat grinned, understanding what she meant. “Cataclysm.” He shouted before jumping up in the air, touching the branches of a tree above the King. The branches suddenly fell off, landing around the King and trapping him.

The King of the Squirrels suddenly realized what had happened and began to try and get free. Ladybug rushed forwards and attempted to grab his sceptre.

“No.” The King said, pulling his sceptre away. This went on for quite a while.

Jackaboy sent out another sonic shout in one direction. Chat swung his baton around to keep squirrels from coming from the other direction. A beep resonated somewhere from him.

“Four minutes…” He said.

Ladybug looked back. “Just keep it up.” She looked back at the King. He was just going to keep playing keep away with his sceptre. An idea came to Ladybug’s head. “Lucky Charm.” She said. Something appeared in the air above her. Ladybug caught it and looked at it. “Peanut butter?”

“Aren’t we meant to be keeping the squirrels away?” Chat pointed out.

Ladybug shrugged before looking around. Her eyes lingered on the King for a while. She called something out in French to her partner. He began to argue back.

“Go. I can handle this.” Jackaboy reassured.

Chat looked up at him before running to Ladybug. He began to try to grab the King’s sceptre, with the same result that Ladybug had. However, whilst he was distracted with Chat, Ladybug managed to smear some peanut butter from the jar in her hand onto the King’s face.

“Huh?” The King said, reaching up to touch his face.

“Jackaboy, stop shouting for a bit.” Ladybug ordered.

Reluctantly, Jackaboy stopped, allowing the few squirrels left to come closer. But they didn’t seem interested in him anymore. The squirrels just ran right past him, rushing towards their so called King. They began to scramble up his body, Licking the peanut butter off his face.

The King began to laugh. The squirrels must have been accidently tickling him. He attempted to swat them away with one hand, before dropping his sceptre so that he could use both hands. “Sto- stop.” He tried to say between his giggles.

Ladybug grabbed the sceptre, bringing it across her knee and breaking it in two. A purple butterfly flew out. She caught it with her yo-yo and released a white butterfly. Picking up the jar of peanut butter, she tossed it up into the air. “Miraculous Ladybug.” she cried.

A red swarm of Ladybugs began to travel around. Jackaboy noticed that it was releasing the people from the cages and the King from the makeshift cage. A purple smoke passed over the King, turning him back into Mark. Mark looked around confusedly as Ladybug and Chat Noir fistbumbed.

“Bien Joue.” They said simultaneously. Ladybug then walked up to Jackaboy. “Thankyou for your help today.”

“No problem.” Jackaboy smiled.

“Will you be in Paris for much longer?”

“Unfortunately no, I’ll be leaving soon.”

Ladybug nodded and smiled. “Well, I wish you the best.”

“You too.”

A beeping noise came from both Ladybug and Chat.

“I need to go!” They both cried before rushing off in opposite directions.

Jackaboy blinked before walking over to Mark. “You ok?”

“What...just happened?”

“Honestly...I don’t know. You were claiming to call yourself the King of the Squirrels.”

“Huh...well then.” Mark scratched the back of his head. “I don’t even remember how I got here.”

Jackaboy raised his eyebrows. “Do you need help being escorted somewhere?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine...thanks.”

“No problem Mark.”

“How’d you-” Mark began to ask. But Jackaboy had already ran off.

Jack walked to the entrance of his hotel. He decided it would be better to come in from the actual entrance rather than risk Signe seeing him detransform in the room.

“I’m definitely going to need some cake after that.” Sam said from Jack’s pocket.

“Me too buddy.”

Jack walked into the lobby and pressed the button for the elevator. Once inside, he pressed the button for his floor and watched the door shut in front of him.

“Say...did you grab the room key before you left?” Sam asked.

Jack’s eyes went wide. “Ah shit.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. At least he now had a realistic excuse as to why he was outside.

#jackscriptedeye #jacksepticeye #jackscriptedeye week #day 3 #miraculous ladybug #long post #but I hope you enjoy reading it #my writing #my post #totally didn't base it off of that one edit i did a while back #this was fun to write

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amynchan · 8 years ago

Text

Just wrote a friendship Marichat thing and I have no idea where this was even going so here you go, read if you feel like it:

“…I cannot believe you just made me do that.”

“I made you do nothing. It’s the game’s fault.”

“You’re such a cruel mistress…”

Chat Noir plopped dramatically over the back of her couch, allowing the box in his hands to fall with slightly more grace onto the floor before Marinette Dupain-Cheng, who opened the box with a grin on her face.

“Don’t let Ladybug hear you, she’ll think you’re cheating on her,” announced the girl as she swiped a piece of delicious pizza from the box. She swiftly took a bite and continued. “And then where would you be?”

“Getting my tail kicked by My Lady,” returned the cat themed superhero as he popped his head up and reached for the box as well. “Let’s see… it’s my turn, isn’t it?”

Marinette only nodded, electing to eat a slice of her pizza as Chat thought. As she chewed, she thought about how weird anyone else would find this: a superhero and a civilian playing silly sleepover games in her apartment at the age of twenty-four. Unbeknownst to pretty much anyone, the two had formed an odd friendship when she herself had graduated high school that had involved, at first, him getting her out of tight spots when akumas came to attack her specifically. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, Chat had her back. What made her different from the other fifteen people that happened to on a semi-consistent basis was that there were times she had to stick around to help him out in return.

Granted, she would always show up later in a spotted supersuit to finish the job, but there were moments where it had been required for Marinette to buy a little more time as herself.

That had started his thank-yous. Which led to Marinette telling him thanks weren’t necessary. Which led to a little argument about manners. Which had led to proper etiquette between civilians and superheroes. Which had led to superhero lore. Which had led to talks. Which had led to more talks on different nights. Which eventually led to them talking one night when it was super late, which had led to deep talks and silly talks. It turned out that they had a lot in common and both liked to let loose every now and again. He had told her about Ladybug. She had told him about Adrien. It was a source of much teasing between the two, but Marinette found that it helped to speak with him about her less than graceful moments when he offered up the same amount of blackmail material in return.

In short: their friendship was silly, a little stupid, and imperfect, just the way she liked it.

Man, this pizza tasted so good!

“Got it!” exclaimed Chat. Marinette blinked. That was quick. “Truth or dare?”

Marinette watched with a wary eye, pursing her lips around her treasured pizza. “Truf.”

“Aw, come on, I had the perfect dare,” complained Chat.

Marinette took the chance to swallow. “And I have the perfect pizza. I’m not standing again until it’s done.”

Chat shrugged his shoulders as he returned to his thought. Marinette chuckled as she finished off her slice and reached for another. While it was a slight abuse of power, daring Chat to pick up a pizza from a nearby store had been an absolute stroke of genius.

“If you had to think of a crazy way to get off a deserted island, what tools would you need?” asked Chat. Marinette pondered it for a moment while the superhero loaded up on his much-needed carbs.

“Sea turtles and the hair off my own back.”

Marinette had expected a reaction. She had expected something like him choking on his pizza or maybe a questioning look. She had been looking forward to a reaction.

Which made it all the worse when he only let loose a chuckle as he shook his head. Marinette huffed. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me…”

“Nah, it’s just… maybe I shouldn’t say…”

“Chat Noir, I will skin you so bad you’ll… you’ll.. um…”

“Wow, I’m feeling very threatened, Princess.”

“Oh!” With an indignant huff, the girl slammed the box of pizza closed and pulled it closer to her, turning her back on the superhero with one swift move and a cheeky grin. “Mine!”

“Nooo!” cried Chat as he flailed dramatically from the couch. “My beloved carbohydrates! Our forbidden love! Marinette has caused a division between us!”

“Tell me or the pizza gets it!”

She felt rather than saw Chat still behind her.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“Princess…”

“Chat.”

Marinette turned slightly to see that Chat had already gotten off the couch’s back and had been moving ever closer. She opened the box and stuck her tongue out. “Mot ome more thep.”

“You truly are a cruel mistress.”

Marinette could only grin as Chat fell to his knees in defeat. She put her tongue back in. She was never gonna actually lick the whole pizza, though. Chat really needed to stop falling for that.

“So? What gives?”

“Noth—”

She stuck her tongue out again, wiggling it closer to the pizza.

“Ithoughtyou’dbemorecreativethanthatpleasedon’tlickmyprecious!”

Marinette rose an eyebrow at that, slowly pulling her tongue back in her mouth for adequate talking.

“Once more in French, please.”

With the imminent threat gone, Chat edged closer to her (and the box!) as he repeated himself. “I just thought you’d be more creative than to rip off a Disney movie, princess. Or maybe I should change your name to captain Jack?”

“I’ll have you know that his escape was plenty creative,” defended Marinette, though she did leave the box open and let him grab another slice. “Also, with me as your mistress and this pizza as your ‘forbidden love’, I’m starting to doubt your loyalties, Chat.”

He could only gasp dramatically before taking a bite of pizza. “Okay, first off, Ladybug’s my number one Lady, you’re my number one Princess, and carbohydrates will always be my forbidden love.”

Marinette laughed freely with him, taking bites of her pizza when she felt she could breathe enough for it.

“Besides,” continued Chat. “When do you plan on telling your one and only love that you sneak a sexy cat boy into your room for a midnight rendezvous on a weekly basis?”

When Marinette choked on her pizza, it was because she should have seen the tease coming, not because Chat had declared himself sexy. He said it about once a month since she had let that slip. Once. Two years ago. She was never gonna live that down.

“He—I—oh, be quiet, you!”

Chat laughed even as a pillow landed on his face. Still, seeing her decorative cat pillow—she had stopped hiding it around his fiftieth visit—hit him square in the face gave her some satisfaction. Watching it narrowly miss the pizza in his claws let her sigh a breath of relief she didn’t know she had been holding until she released it. And Chat’s own laugh? Thing was freaking infective.

The two laughed and laughed over nothing. They laughed so hard they rolled over. They laughed so hard they cried. And when they could laugh no more, they spurt out into giggles.

Marinette laid on her back in the middle of her apartment with her best friend only a few feet away. She liked evenings like this. It was nice to just goof off and hold on to a bit of childhood when everyone around you expected you to grow up.

It was nice.

#miraculous ladybug #chat noir #cat noir #marinette #platonic #so much platonic #amynchanstories

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lolcat76 · 8 years ago

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Folie A Deux, pt 5.

Short update, but here you go. Thanks again to @wearecylons for the advice and the gentle nudging.

Bill stared at the phone resting on his kitchen counter, trying to decide whether it would be a good idea to call Laura. On the one hand, she had to be mentally drained from last night's conversation; on the other hand, maybe being drained from last night's conversation meant that she'd appreciate a distraction. Maybe not a distraction from him, but a distraction nonetheless. He wouldn't push her, he promised himself. He'd merely make the offer. If she wanted to do it, she would. If she wanted to see him, she would. He wasn't offering anything other than friendship, and the chance to get back into the world that he refused to believe she didn’t miss. At least, he wasn’t offering more right now. If the time came that they moved past friendship into something more, well, that was just fine with him. He wasn't going to beg for it and he wasn't going to try to force her into it. He was just going to give her a friendly nudge in what he hoped was the right direction. He smiled a little bit at the idea. Friends with Laura. They'd been strangers, then adversaries, then reluctant partners, then lovers. He'd never actually considered her a friend before, but now that he was rolling the word around in his mind, it had a nice ring to it. Friends.

He could be her friend. He wanted her to be his. Decision made, Bill picked up the phone and tapped a few keys to redial her number. "Hey. You busy today? You owe me for buying pizza last night, and I need a favor. And, just so you know, you're not going to like it."

*** She had a class to teach at 10, and Grace needed her lunch packed, so she smacked the button to silence her alarm, heaved herself out of bed and headed for the shower. A quick look in the mirror - dark circles and stained teeth - told her that she was definitely a little worse for the wear from last night. It had seemed like a good idea to confide in Bill, to really talk to someone, after a slice of pizza and a pint of light beer. Seemed like less of a good idea when she got home alone and sat on the couch with a bottle of pinot noir and a box of kleenex, replaying their conversation over and over again. Was she punishing herself? Bill certainly seemed to think so. She twisted the knobs in the bathtub and stepped underneath a spray that was just a little too hot, trying to steam out the red wine hangover, and trying to scrub out her regrets with floral body wash and a net sponge. As her skin turned from ivory to bright red, she realized that punishing herself wasn't exactly a new trick. She shut off the taps and wrapped herself in a fluffy towel, ignoring the bright red streaks on her arms and legs where she’d scrubbed enough to anger her skin. Laura was twisting her thick hair up into a bun when the phone rang, and the shrill ringtone startled her so much that she knocked her water glass off the bathroom counter and right onto her foot. It was going to be that kind of day. "Dammit! Hello?" she snapped. Bill. Of course it would be Bill. She raised her eyebrow at the sound of his voice, and the other eyebrow shot up to join the first when he warned her that he was going to be asking her to do something she wasn't going to like. God help her if he wanted her to sit down and rehash more painful topics. She didn't have enough wine or a strong enough liver to get through another night like last night. "I will concede that I owe you a favor, Mr. Adama, but I refuse to agree to anything blindly." He sighed, but she could hear the grin hiding underneath his dramatic show of exasperation. "You refuse a lot of things, lady. Maybe you should say yes sometimes and see what happens." Funny. Well, thank God he hadn’t lost his sense of humor. "All right, yes. Yes, I refuse your favor." She paused for a second, then continued in her most chipper yoga teacher voice, "Well, would you look at that. I said yes, and just like that, I have you out of my hair for the rest of the day. You were right, Bill. I am going to say yes more often." This time the sigh wasn't just for show, and she choked back a snicker at his obvious irritation. "Hear me out,” he said. “Can you at least say yes to that?" She looked at her watch, then at her mottled skin. She needed at least another 15 minutes to make herself look presentable, then a good ten or so to get Grace out of bed, five to throw together a lunch, and a good half hour to follow Grace around the upstairs bathroom and her bedroom and generally annoy her into being on time to leave the house. That didn't leave much time for listening to Bill's proposal. "You have three minutes, Bill, then I'm hanging up on you and not answering your calls until at least tomorrow. Possibly later, depending on what you're planning to ask.” He paused long enough to cut into a precious six seconds of his time, and Laura knew he was debating whether or not to make an inappropriate comment. Eight years ago, he wouldn't have hesitated. Eight years ago, she would have egged him on. Today, she was fully prepared to hang up on him. "Jack has a late lunch today. Some sort of Philly bigwigs that need their asses kissed extra hard to cough up money for the spring season, so he can't take the flowers rehearsal from 1-4. He asked me to do it, but...Laura, I gotta be honest with you. I don't give a shit about the flowers, but I know you always liked that one. And I know you know the choreography and the timing of the music better than probably anyone in this city, so what do you say? Help an old friend out and join me for the rehearsal?" It was her turn to let an awkward silence stretch between them. Her old friend Bill? Is that what they were now? Better that than her old ex whose heart she broke, she admitted silently to herself. Better than the ghost from her past who wanted her to relive things she couldn’t face. Better to give him an inch, before he took another eight years. "I'll agree, on one condition." "Of course there's a condition." She snorted at that but opted to ignore the comment. "You have to promise me that Jack knows nothing about this favor and will know nothing about this favor. I'm serious, Bill. I do not want to work for Pennsylvania Ballet." "I can promise you that he won't hear about it from me." "In that case, you have a deal." She agreed to meet him in the early afternoon and clicked the button on the phone to end the call. Her morning beginning yoga class would go on as scheduled, but she had to call Tory to take over the afternoon classes.

Tory was going to be pissed. Well, Tory had been pissed at Laura for one reason or another for the better part of the last three years, so one more day wasn’t going to hurt anything. She tapped on the phone and started reorganizing her schedule.

Seven hours later, Grace was tucked into a corner of the studio with her homework, and Laura and Bill were walking through the paces of the Waltz of the Flowers. Bill wasn’t wrong, she hated to admit - the flowers was her favorite variation in the Nutcracker. The corps dancers were red-faced and sweating, panting for breath after running through the intense 12-minute piece three times in a row. A few of the younger dancers looked a little green around the gills. Something that the glowing reviews never mentioned in ballet - occasionally, the dancers suffered for their art, and the stage managers suffered even more by throwing out trash cans filled with vomit.

Better to push them now and get them ready to handle the intensely aerobic variation than to watch them shove each other out of the way in the wings during opening night. Not that she would be watching - she’d be in her seat in the audience, pretending that she had no idea about the blood, sweat and stomach cramps that went into the performance.

Still, she was here to help, so while Bill yelled at them about holding their positions and hitting their marks, she pulled some of the younger dancers aside and walked them - very, very slowly - through their choreography. She corrected mismatched arms, shifted positions and counted very deliberately over the music until the dancers each entered the stage precisely on the proper note. Through it all, she had to fight to keep from casting a glance over her shoulder at Bill. Bill, who was dressed in all black, standing in front of the studio with his arms crossed. Bill, who had never given a tinker’s damn about the right way to do things, but was keeping his mouth shut as she advised the corps to tuck in their abs, stretch through their fingers, and watch each other as they renverséd.

By the start of the third hour of rehearsal, she realized that Bill was doing little more than controlling the music playing through the studio’s stereo system or gesturing to the dancers to take the marks that Laura indicated. Even Grace had perked up, abandoning her algebra book in favor of watching Laura work through the geometry and physics of a professional performance.

She’d rather die than admit it, but this was the most fun she’d had in years. Teaching soccer moms the proper position for downward dog didn’t compare to this. Juggling schedules and doing laundry for Grace didn’t compare to this. She missed dancing onstage, absolutely, but working her way through the variation, correcting a misplaced foot or showing young dancers how to judge their spacing without relying on the mirrors...she loved it. Breaking down the intricacy of a challenging block of choreography into its most simple component parts, and watching the dancers figure out how to put them all back together...she loved that too.

Most of all, she loved that Bill just stood there, pausing and playing the music, and let her completely take over his rehearsal.

Maybe there’s something for me here. She tried to quash the thought, but it wouldn’t go away. It just echoed, louder and louder in her head, until she couldn’t hear the music above the thoughts ringing in her ears.

She caught a glimpse of the clock out of the corner of her eye. Five minutes before 4pm, five minutes before Bill would be back in a smaller studio with Grace and David and the kid who played Fritz. Three hours had flown by, and she still had so much to do. The third group was struggling to keep their spacing, and Sharon Agathon, the Dewdrop Fairy, was still not maintaining her spacing in her sequence of fouettés.

Then again, maybe it was better to quit while she was ahead. Karl seemed to have fond memories of their time together at ABT, but Sharon still looked at her like Laura was just waiting for the right time to throw her under a crosstown bus. Old grudges died hard, if they died at all.

Still, Sharon was sloppy with her arms. She’d make a note of it and pass it on to Bill, and then go about her business. She took a step back and nodded to Bill, passing off the final five minutes of rehearsal to him while she gathered her thoughts. He reminded the corps dancers to take corrections to heart and released them to whatever else their schedules held until their long Nutcracker day was done at 7pm.

She had big plans to find a coffee shop and nurse a soy latte and scone while Grace was in rehearsal, but as Grace shoved her purse and her phone in her hand, she felt someone’s eyes burning into the back of her head. Turning toward the door of the studio, she caught a glimpse of Jack’s white hair hovering over the dancers who were shoving their way out.

Dammit. They’d had a deal, and he’d broken it. She shot a glare at Bill, and he shrugged.

She was going to kill him, just as soon as she had a second alone with him. He pointed at Grace, then at the door. Message received. She wouldn’t get the chance to kill him until after Grace’s rehearsal. Very well, she could wait. Laura shoved Grace along, reminding her niece to call her when rehearsal was done. She’d deal with Bill after she had a few hours to herself with her coffee and her irritation.

She was halfway out the building’s front door when Jack called her back. She debated pretending not to hear him. Knowing Jack, though, she had no doubt he’d follow her down the street and ruin a perfectly good soy latte. She straightened her shoulders and turned.

“Don’t you have a rehearsal or something?”

“Or something. Perks of being the boss...people wait for me, not the other way around.” Jack waved toward his office. “Come with me.”

Dammit. She was going to kill Bill. She followed Jack, dragging her feet as much as her dignity would allow.

She settled into the chair across from him, meticulously arranging her purse at her feet and her coat across her lap. She smoothed her hair, tucking it behind her ears, and then, finally running out of ways to avoid looking at him, she folded her hands over her coat and met his eyes.

“You finished?” he said with a raise of his eyebrows.

She nodded primly. “Yes.”

“Good. Then I want you to tell me what you know about insurance.”

Insurance? She repeated the word in confusion. He wanted to talk about insurance? She knew a hell of a lot about insurance, particularly life insurance, health insurance, and disability insurance, but she didn’t think that Jack of all people needed the particulars on any of those things. Longing glances to the unopened pack of cigarettes on his desk aside, he looked healthy enough to her.

“Yes. insurance. Like say, if you owned a yoga studio, and you had a stranger come in and lead a class, wouldn’t you be concerned about liability insurance if she did something that injured one of your students?”

Ah, that kind of insurance. “I wasn’t-”

Jack held up his hand. “You were. And if you’re going to be in my studio, working with my dancers, you’re going to fill out some paperwork and you’re going on my payroll.”

She pressed her lips together and took a deep breath. “I don’t want to work for you, Jack.”

“You already are working for me, Laura. And very well, I might add, but you’re going to do it according to my rules. And on my insurance policy.”

She pushed herself out of the chair and started gathering her belongings. “It won’t happen again.”

“Dammit!” Jack slammed his hand against his desk, making Laura jump in surprise and drop her purse. “It will happen again, because you like doing it, and if you’d just stop being so fucking stubborn, you could keep on liking doing it and GET PAID FOR IT.”

Her mouth hung open at his outburst, and he finally cracked a smile at her complete astonishment. “Ask my assistant for the adjunct paperwork and have it filled out and on my desk before you leave tonight. As for your schedule, I’ll leave that up to my associate artistic director to determine.”

“Your associate…”

“New guy. Bill Adama. Kind of an asshole, but I think you’ll like him. Now,” he said, as he headed toward his office door, “if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do with my time than argue with an employee.”

She followed him out the door, still a little shocked and confused. He stopped at his assistant’s desk and muttered a few words to her, then turned back to Laura. “On my desk before you leave.”

She took the packet of papers his assistant held out to her with a vague smile and nod. She was definitely, definitely going to kill Bill Adama.

Once the paperwork was done and dutifully dropped on Jack’s desk, she had nothing to do but pace and stew. If there was one thing she absolutely hated, it was being backed into a corner, and here she was, completely trapped by Bill and Jack. By the time Grace and her fellow dancers came laughing out of the studio, she had worked herself into a full, raging temper. She shoved her way into the studio and slammed her purse and coat onto a chair.

“We had a deal, jackass!” she shouted.

Bill, to her frustration, barely reacted to the animosity in her tone. “We did,” he agreed mildly. “I told you Jack would never hear it from me that you were here. And he didn’t. I never promised that he wouldn’t see you here.”

“I. Do. Not. Want. To. Work. Here.” she hissed through clenched teeth.

“Then don’t,” he said with a shrug. “Nobody’s forcing you to be here.”

“Oh, Laura, please do me a favor. Oh, Laura, I need your help with the flowers,” she mimicked in a singsong. “What do you call that?”

“A request. Which you agreed to. I didn’t force you, or blackmail you.”

She wasn’t sure she’d agree to the no blackmail thing, but his reasonable argument did take a little of the wind out of her sails. “Why is it so hard to understand that I don’t want to be a part of this anymore?” she asked, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice.

“Why is it so hard to understand that you do want to be a part of this? It’s the Nutcracker, Laura, not the end of the world. You like the Nutcracker.” She snorted at that, and he fought back a chuckle as he continued. “Ok, you don’t hate the Nutcracker. You like teaching. You like being annoyingly precise about technique and proper terminology. You like being in the studio. Tell me, what about all of this is such a great tragedy to you?”

She collapsed on the marley floor of the studio and absently rubbed at one of the streaks left behind during rehearsal. “It’s just...Bill, it’s so hard.” She winced at the petulance in her voice. God, she sounded just like Grace when she was asked to finish her science homework.

Bill settled next to her and nudged her with his shoulder. “This isn’t hard. What you’ve been through, that was hard. Raising a kid, that’s hard. This is the easiest thing in the world, if you’ll just let it be.”

She wasn’t sure if they were still talking about ballet, and she was too afraid to dig into it deeper. Laura gave him a thin smile. “You think it’s easy now. Keep in mind, you’re the one Jack wants to be in charge of my schedule.”

“Is that all? Lady, you already do everything I say, the first time I ask. Easiest damn job I ever had.”

She smacked him lightly on the arm, then settled in against him, taking a little bit of comfort from his solid warmth. “I don’t know how to do this again, Bill.” This time, she was positive she wasn’t just talking about ballet.

“Stick with what you know, and we’ll figure out the rest as we go along.”

“That’s it?”

His face lit up as he grinned at her. “That’s it. It’s worked so far, hasn’t it?”

As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t argue. They were here, working together and making progress. He was smiling at her, and she no longer wanted to wrap one of Grace’s leg warmers around his throat and strangle him. “I’m not taking the Mother Ginger rehearsals, I can tell you that right now.”

He pushed himself off the floor, dusted off his pants, and reached out to help her up. He held her hands just a second too long. “We’ll discuss that later.”

“I’m not taking that stupid Mother Ginger rehearsal!” she shouted after him, and she could hear him laughing as he made his way out of the studio and down the hallway.

#spaceparents fic #lolcatfic #fic prompt #folie a deux #spaceparents AU #Bill Adama #Laura Roslin

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jenmedsbookreviews · 6 years ago

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Been up to much this week? No? Me neither.

Actually, I tell a lie. This weekend I celebrated my birthday. Not a particularly special one. 43. Neither here nor there really, just a number. Could be worse. I’m the baby of the family. I could be my sisters’ ages …

Oh yes. And I bought a bookcase. Just a small one although I bought to larger ones as well. I just need to assemble them. I did a quick job of putting the shorter one together on Wednesday night/Thursday morning while suffering a bout of insomnia so at least not all my reference books are upstairs in the office near to my desk. Also got to mount my two prints on the top temporarily, so it may be half empty but looks pretty.

Not that it will be half empty for long because I have more books. More books than you can shake a stick at. Well, you could shake a stick at them but I don’t really know why you would want to … Why? Well because I went to Harrogate this weekend, and the Theakston’s Crime Writing Festival. This is my second year and what a difference the weather makes let me tell you. Blue skies (the occasional bit of cloud and some minor rain showers) but nothing like last years torrential downpours. It made it a completely different festival for me. Really different.

Now if we are Facebook friends or you follow me on Twitter, you may have seen I was in the verge of a mini meltdown mid week about attending. Despite being in this blogging game for two years now, I still feel like a newbie, a fraud and someone who shouldn’t really be here. I know I attend a lot of festivals and launches etc, and I may appear confident and all that but all I can say is that I am a bloody good actress. I hate group situations. I always feel as though I am being judged. On everything. I cannot make small talk. I have no idea what to say. The idea of approaching someone, even someone I have met (vaguely or in real life) and saying hi petrifies me as I think they do not want to see me and are going to be just thinking WTF are you bothering me for.

I am an insular person in real life. This being online, being public, is not something I do naturally. If you saw me at home, and my family can attest to this, I am more likely to be found on my own ignoring the whole world than I am arranging meet ups and the like. I push myself to go to them because I know I need to change and I need to be more confident in this area. Also most of them are either more intimate with smaller crowds, or more driven by panels where you are simply a face in a small dark room, or, in the case of the book launches, it’s all about the authors. I may talk to a few folk (and I typically only go where I will know at least one other person) or I don’t. Went to the Orion tour the other week and it was only because Sam Eades took pity on me and introduced me to another blogger that I spoke to anyone all evening.

I am not shy in talking about my nerves – my lack of confidence – I published a long post about last years Crimefest and how I couldn’t face even going down to the bar to meet people I’d arranged to meet. Well, Harrogate is like Crimefest’s bar on steroids. the ultimate in social gatherings for the Crime (book) loving community. Everyone knows everyone, they are all in their groups chatting and you feel stupid and awkward in approaching them and saying hi, even if they have told you to do so if you see them and even if you know them already. Well I feel awkward and stupid … I am sure I am not alone but most folk make it look easy. I just usually stand and stare at people and probably look like a psycho ready to commit some kind of weird stalking/murdering spree. Quite possibly not far wrong but that’s an entirely different story …

But … this year I have said sod it. Well, a little bit at least. I have had my moments of itchiness (I have scratches in places you would not believe and are never, ever, going to see), my moments of refusing to go and say hello even though I know I should do, and my moments of just needing to watch the world go by. My nails are bitten beyond the quick, the skin around them raw and ragged where I have chewed them to pieces and I am now typing this post with my knuckles as the rest of my fingers are ruined. But I have also been brave. taking a leaf out of the lovely Jill Doyle’s book and acknowledging life is just too short. Like me.

I said hi to Jenny Blackhurst like I promised after several failed attempts to do so previously. I said hello to Sarah Hilary, mostly in passing, but it’s a start as I’d normally have just snuck on by with perhaps a nod of the head or one of my trademark weird stares from afar. I had a chat with the lovely Mel McGrath who shares my pain at social groupings and we were joined by Ann Cleeves. Ann Cleeves! I even managed to speak to her without making a complete arse of myself or exploding so that was nice.

More embarrassingly I talked about knocking myself out with my boobs and using the phrase titty lip in a review (don’t ask) with Mark Billingham … Yes I am a truly classy lady.

And I did pictures. Not a lot admittedly but still. Pictures. With me in. That I instigated. Here is the proof.

Yes. Me. With people. Going from top left, Mel McGrath, Ann Cleeves. Rachel Abbott, Lee Child, James Oswald and Will Dean. I like how Lee Child doesn’t bend down for the picture and I can pass this off as him being really tall rather than my lack of height. Will, bless him, really can’t make it more obvious lol.

It’s okay. I really am that short.

So yes, alcohol was consumed. All that did though was stop me from sleeping so if there are typos in this post that is why. I’m tired (not drunk) and will probably suffer for the rest of the week from late nights and post festival hangover syndrome. Its a real thing! (It also helped me survive the embarrassment of having Happy Birthday sung to me in the tent but that’s something I will never get over …) But I would like to say thank you to the lovely folk at Harrogate who were so kind and welcoming and who made a point of saying hi to me. I may not have photographic evidence but there were so many great moments and great bloggers, authors and, most importantly, friends to share the weekend with, that it made it all that little bit easier. So a big shout out to Mandie (because she bought me cake and she’s my sister and I have to), Vicki Goldman, Katherine Sunderland, Joy Kluver, Jacob Collins, Abbie Osborne, Jill Doyle, Susan Hampson, Joanne Robertson, Kate Moloney, Tracy Fenton, Mary Picken, Emma Welton, Janet, Jacky, Susan, Darren, Kim, Noelle, Sharon, Kate E, Anne, Sarah, Alexina, Claire, Steph, Liz, Ellen and all the other fab folk I have forgotten (too many to mention.)

It was also great to see all the fab authors, especially the lovely Mel McGrath, Libby Carpenter, Sam Carrington, Caroline England, Jack Steele, Jane Isaacs, Bernie Steadman, Tom Bale, Will Dean, James Oswald (who rather kindly stood and talked Coos even though he probably thought we were mad), Louise Mangos, Malcolm Hollingdrake, Jenny Blackhurst, Amer Anwar, Amanda Robson, Felicia Yap, Marnie Riches, Chris Whitaker, Patricia Gibney, Mel Sherratt, Caroline Mitchell, Graham Minett, Alison Belsham, Graham Smith, Jackie Baldwin, Louise Beech, Dave Sivers, Susi Holliday, Steph Broadribb, Karen Sullivan, Sarah Hilary, Sam Eades, and not forgetting Rachel Abbott. So lovely to finally meet her and to hear about my namesake in her next book. I am going to love reading the next Tom Douglas book. It will be a hoot.

That probably makes it sound like I did far more partying and interacting than I really did but Harrogate is one of those kinds of weekends where you see everyone and no one and still come away exhausted. It is mentally draining for someone who doesn’t like crowds, people, human interaction, but it is still heartwarming. Give me a few weeks and I’ll hopefully be back to normal (whatever that is) but as I have Bute noir in two weeks and Bloody Scotland a few weeks after that, I’m going to need to get my game face on again pretty quickly.

So … that was my nerves in a nutshell (coconut shell). More on the festival and the books in part two …

Rewind, recap: Weekly update w/e 22/07/18 – Part 1 Been up to much this week? No? Me neither. Actually, I tell a lie. This weekend I celebrated my birthday.

#Rewind Recap #Weekly Round UP

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