#and unpleasantly funny cat girl

[randomnumbers751650]

I took a break from Arknights and I returned to see smug green cat not being so smug, beautiful.

[brave-clarice]

“Clarice” Liveblog: Episode 3

Maybe Wednesday is just destined to be my watch night? At any rate, here are some more comically late hot takes for you all.

I really do not like that Clarice’s Bureau-mandated therapist is recurring character, nor do I like the way these scenes are framed.

And the name of this episode is “Are You Alright?” which...oop.

“He was a marshal.” Good to know that the sheriff BS she gave Mr. Cult Leader was made up after all.

This is a little thing, but enough with the boring monochromatic button-ups on Clarice! Where’s my girl who hides copies of Vogue under her mattress??

I don’t love this constant-flashback thing one bit.

To be 100% clear, if I haven’t been already, it’s not that I want Clarice’s mental health to be ignored. I just don’t think this is the best or most in-character way to address it.

Also: Clarice Starling is not defined by her trauma.

“Buffalo Bill...a wound I believe will never heal unless you open up about it.” Honestly?

Thanks, I hate it!

I hate to even bring up the NBC show.....but this scene is reminding me, intensely and unpleasantly, of that.

That show made Will Graham way too unstable and mentally ill as it is...and Clarice’s character is a hell of a lot stronger than book!Will, never mind NBC!Will. So having Clarice hallucinate and lash out in similar ways feels really OOC.

“Maybe your perceptions aren’t as solid as you think.” Yay, gaslighting. As if Clarice doesn’t face enough obstacles in the books.

I’ve always interpreted Ardelia as a bit of a neat freak, so that was a nice scene with the boxes!

Were most politicians wearing American flag pins in the early 90s? That feels way too modern. (iirc it became the “norm” only after 9/11.)

“Imagine someone field-dressing one of [your daughters] like a deer.” I’m getting strong and very unwelcome NBC vibes again. Stop it, show!

More gaslighting, but this time from the suspect.

“Well, I’m Army, so I’m actually a good shot.” For some reason this feels like shade at ex-Marine John Brigham even though he doesn’t exist in this show, and I’m offended on his behalf.

Speaking of, when is Clarice’s sharpshooting talent going to come up??

Krendler’s supporting Clarice? Saying she has a good idea???? WHO IS THIS GUY?!

The implication here is that...the president will fire AG Martin over bad press...? Or what?

What I’m getting from this: this Krendler is just some guy who hapens to have the same name, not the infamous King Scumbag we know and love to hate. (And those clothes...1993, where are you?!?)

Ardelia called her “Starling”! Though it was tongue-in-cheek.

“I’m aware I have the palate of an eight-year-old.” Somewhere, Hannibal is dying inside. (Hmm...wasn’t she about eight when her father was killed?)

This line/delivery was super cute!

But being unable to cook doesn’t necessarily mean you have unsophisticated tastes...

Is Catherine going to have any kind of personality? Beyond “is traumatized”?

And where is Catherine’s cat???

“It’s from the 50s.” “I’m from the 50s! ...I still work.” Cuuute.

Her sheepish little smile when the Baltimore cop tells her they’re “big fans” of hers...I would die for this girl, folks.

Hey, remember phone books?! And a nice nod to Ardelia being the bookish one of the pair.

Another homage to Silence’s cinematography (but this time she’s the reflection).

Krendler’s back in Asshole Boss mode again. Make up your minds.

Thanks, I still hate it!

Okay, yes Clarice has a temper! And she does act “impulsively” re: Krendler in Hannibal...at the END of her by-then failed career. But a fledgling female agent who’s already viewed as a kind of “loose cannon” could NOT afford to chuck a mug full of coffee at her boss (with whom she’s already butting heads/struggling to coexist) when she’s upset! Very unprofessional and unlike Clarice.

“You think I’m the one who wants to play politics?” In Hannibal, Krendler wants to run for Congress, so...yeah, I do.

Krendler wouldn’t be wrong to send Clarice home after that, tbh.

“He thinks I’m the weak link.” “You might be.” *angry noises*

Busting through doors while armed: Just Clarice Things

Krendler telling Clarice she was right...his characterization’s giving me whiplash.

Catherine’s not an actual character so far, and it’s sad.

Glad they’re acknowledging that AG Martin’s “field-dressing” comments were incredibly bad.

“I think I have some memories I need to look at...but not with you.” Oh! Oh! I know who she’s going to look at them with! ;)

“You’re trying to gaslight me, sir.” Not sure they would’ve used that term as commonly in the early 90s, though Clarice has a therapy license, so maybe?

But also: yes! CALL! HIM! OUT!

“I wish you luck finding someone who’s better at it than I am.” *shrieks* That is a Hannibal reference, and I’ll fight anyone who says it isn’t.

I’ve liked all these episodes more than my nit-picking might suggest, I swear. I enjoyed the middle half hour or so of this one a lot! It’s got a few charming little funny moments that I particularly appreciated. 

That said... This was, as a whole, probably Rebecca Breeds’ weakest showing to date (through no fault of her own). And I’m getting a little antsy about (lack of) character development. I’m on board with exploring Ardelia and Catherine Martin in greater depth...but Ruth Martin, too--even Krendler? And seemingly at the expense of Clarice’s own character?

What do the non-book readers in the audience really know about Clarice so far beyond what’s shown in Silence? (Some early interviews emphasized that the film didn’t have time to delve into Clarice’s character intimately. What has the show done to remedy that so far...?) She likes junk food, she has a brother...I can’t think of much else off the top of my head. Not to be a broken record, but there’s more to Clarice than childhood trauma. More than her career. If this show is genuinely about her--well, by episode 3 and 4, it’s high time for them to start exploring who she is beyond those things.

Clarice is a sharpshooter who competes and wins. She’s a runner. She loves horses and muscle cars. She has a therapy license. She graduated at the top of her large undergraduate class. She’s interested in fashion (though she probably doesn’t let on about that to many people). I haven’t seen any of that so far, and it’s beginning to make me sad. 

They also need to end the “Clarice is mentally/emotionally unstable and sometimes even hallucinates” subplot right now!

I’m dropping all my expectations for this Paul Krendler. They won’t commit to making him as intolerable and awful as he was in the books. Instead, we have an OC with a canonical name. Fine. But that choice is going to be awkward if the show goes forward and they, by some miracle, get rights to Hannibal’s character...

If Catherine Martin’s sticking around, I hope to God they give her a personality. Of course she’s suffering, and no, I don’t want them to belittle that--but right now, she’s coming across as a one-dimensional caricature of a victim rather than as a sympathetic real person.

And finally...where is my 90s aesthetic?! It’s one of the elements that I was most excited about, yet it’s barely present. Some of the tech and the cars look right. A lot of the clothes and hairstyles, though, leave much to be desired. (Clarice’s wardrobe is especially boring/disappointing so far. I was looking forward to an improvement on Jodie’s movie costumes! Clarice doesn’t have to dress just like Dana Scully--but at least Scully always looked straight out of 199x.) And there are little anachronistic things that take me right out of the early 90s.

I didn’t hate it. I didn’t love it. It wasn’t as exciting or as full of novel/film allusions as the first two (I guess they can’t all be). It also felt unfocused when it came to the characters, ultimately developing almost none of them, including the heroine. This is the episode I think I’m least likely to rewatch of the first three. 

I’m hoping for better from #4!

[jennycalendar]

regarding honor and honesty in the workplace (3/?)

read on ao3!

this chapter: jenny does her best to balance being an efficient working mom with getting some intel from lilah regarding what exactly she’s been hired to do.

from the personal files of Jenny Calendar:

Faith is…a complicated story to tell.

Let’s start it this way. Around the same time that I was a bright-eyed, optimistic young detective in my early twenties, Faith had been placed in a foster home with way too many kids for the foster mom to realistically handle. I got called into the neighborhood on an unrelated case, and Faith took an interest in me because of my kickass detective skills and the fact that I’d been the only one to tell off her foster mother’s kid for stealing her belongings. She started following me around whenever I was in the neighborhood, to the point where I started making extra trips just because I wanted to see her.

The foster mother was a nice lady, sort of. I use the term “nice” to mean “simple,” here, because she had a very black-and-white view of the world and wasn’t able to see the nuances of Faith. Sure, Faith could be loud and angry, but Faith also picked me a bouquet of grass and weeds because she couldn’t find flowers and she wanted to give me something with at least one color. She was a very little kid who had had to deal with a lot in a small amount of time, and she wasn’t getting the kind of attention she needed at a home full of other children.

Honestly, I think Faith was the only person who was really surprised when I decided to go through the long and arduous process of adopting her. I kind of always knew that I wanted to have her in my life, from the moment she ran up to me and demanded to know if she could help me spy on her neighbors. It wasn’t an easy adjustment process for either of us, and there are still some rough patches today, but that girl means the world to me.

She wants to be a detective like me after high school. That or a martial arts champion; she takes classes on weekends and she’s still trying to decide. I pointed out that she could do both and make herself a great protagonist for a quirky detective sitcom, and she said “Mom, don’t patronize me,” in a very self-suffering tone of voice that I’m pretty sure she picked up from Buffy.

I try not to push her to share too much, because I know she really values her privacy (funny that she ended up getting adopted by a detective, of all things) and she tends to share things with me when she feels ready. So whatever this thing is about Wolfram and Hart, I think it’s definitely best for Faith that I wait a while on finding it out.

Definitely doesn’t stop me from worrying, though. I think I’m going to go make Faith some soup.

“Hey, Lilah, this is Jenny Calendar,” Jenny began, holding her phone to her ear with her shoulder as she stirred the soup on the stove.

“Private detective Jenny Calendar?”

God, Lilah’s voice sounded sexy even with Jenny’s shitty reception. You’ve got it bad, Calendar. “Yeah, um, my kid came home from school sick and I really have to stay home tonight and take care of her,” Jenny explained, acutely aware of how un-sexy that probably sounded to someone like Lilah. Maybe that was good, though, because Jenny wasn’t generally into people who weren’t okay with Faith. This could serve as some kind of a litmus test.

“Your kid,” Lilah echoed, as though storing away this new information. “All right. Is your kid going to be sick tomorrow too?”

“Hold up.” Jenny placed down the soup spoon, took the phone in one hand, and hurried to stick her head into Faith’s bedroom. “Honey, you want me to stay home tomorrow?” Faith hesitated. Jenny knew from experience that hesitation generally meant a secret yes. “Yeah, I’m staying with her tomorrow too,” she said, smiling encouragingly at Faith as she headed back to check on the soup.

“Well,” Lilah drew out the word, “after tomorrow, my schedule’s pretty much booked till Saturday, and I really want to get started on this case. I hate to impose, but would it be all right if I stopped by tonight to at least give you some research material?”

Jenny had to really consider this question. Faith’s immediate reaction to the phrase Wolfram and Hart made Jenny think that she wouldn’t react all that well to a Wolfram and Hart lawyer in the house. On the other hand, the money from the Whirlwind case wouldn’t last forever, and Jenny needed to make sure she had a way to buy things like soup and tea and healthy foods. She didn’t want Lilah to lose interest and go to another client, so—

“I’ll give you my address,” she said. “Text me when you’re in the lobby and I’ll meet you as I’m going out to buy groceries.”

“Didn’t realize you were into illicit encounters,” said Lilah, sounding amused. “Can’t say I’m not into it.” She hung up.

Jenny, somewhat flushed, let out a shaky, pleased breath, leaning against the kitchen counter and coming very close to catching her blouse on fire. She only sort of noticed. “Damn,” she whispered, grinning, and turned back to the soup.

Faith liked vegetable soup, specifically the made-from-scratch kind. She pretended she liked the stuff from a can just because she knew it took Jenny forever to make homemade vegetable soup, but Jenny had learned (through a trial-and-error process and, later, through a cooking class with Rupert) how to cook because she knew it made Faith feel cared for. Jenny stirred the mixture a few more times before ladling some of the soup into a bowl. Placing the bowl onto a tray with a glass of water, she picked the tray up and carefully carried it into Faith’s bedroom.

“I feel so important,” said Faith with a weak grin.

“You totally are.” Jenny kissed her on the cheek. “Rest up, okay? I’m going to go drive out and get some orange juice for tomorrow morning.” She tucked the blankets more securely around Faith before reluctantly exiting the room. “Call me if you need anything,” she added over her shoulder, “as soon as you need anything, don’t ever not call me if you’re not feeling okay.”

“Gotcha,” said Faith, sounding amused. “I’ll make sure my helicopter mom’s got a landing pad.”

Jenny was still smiling as she headed into her bedroom. Much as she loved wearing at-home clothes and getting to relax, she definitely wasn’t going down to meet Lilah Hot-As-Hell Morgan in sweats and a Sunnydale High t-shirt. After a good five minutes of careful deliberation, she selected a dark red blouse and slacks, combing out her hair so that it fell softly at her shoulders in a way Buffy and Willow liked to call “teacher chic.” She was halfway through applying lipstick when she got a text from Lilah.

in the lobby, u coming down? xx

Jenny gave herself a last, cursory glance in the mirror. Not exactly “alluring, polished detective,” but she was pressed for time and her kid was sick, so it was still pretty good given the circumstances. Donning a pair of low-heeled shoes, she hurried out of her apartment and over to the elevator.

When the elevator doors opened, the first thing Jenny saw was Lilah. She was waiting in the lobby, leaning against the wall and presumably texting someone. Her hair was swept into a stylish updo today, and when she looked up, her eyes were hidden by dark sunglasses.

Damn, thought Jenny again. Aloud, she said, “Glad you could make it.”

Lilah inclined her head in response. Without a word, she turned, exiting the lobby; Jenny had to hurry to follow and fall into step. “I’m sure you’ve discovered by now that Wolfram and Hart is impossible to research,” she said, pocketing her phone as they walked in the direction of a shiny black car. “A lot of work is putting into making sure that their credentials check out in court, but that any and all press about Wolfram and Hart never makes it to print.”

“Why would they want that?” Jenny inquired carefully.

“You’re a smart lady.” Lilah stopped in front of the car, clicking a button on her keys to unlock the door. “I’m pretty sure you already know the answer.”

“I’m pretty sure I do too, I just want to hear you say it first,” said Jenny smoothly, getting into the front seat of Lilah’s car.

Lilah smiled in a way that told Jenny that this was the right thing to say. “Wolfram and Hart doesn’t take on just anyone as clients,” she explained. “If they were known as some kind of prestigious law firm with a reputation of winning all their cases, they would be getting a lot more clients and attention than they wanted. They pick and choose the people who they help out, and those people are always on the wrong side of the law.”

“So Wolfram and Hart wants to protect the bad guys of Los Angeles,” Jenny said, almost a question. “Why?”

“Simply because it’s an incredibly profitable and useful business,” Lilah answered, surprisingly blasé for such a morally awful statement. “They don’t help just any pickpocket or cat burglar, Ms. Calendar; they make sure that their time and money is invested in people who will pay them back later. Maybe it’s in favors, maybe it’s in money, maybe it’s in some rare artifact that a high-up executive feels like bringing up as a conversation piece at dinner parties, but Wolfram and Hart works in the shadows to make sure that the crime in Los Angeles doesn’t go away.”

Something about that sentence struck Jenny as unpleasantly familiar. She mentally filed it away for later contemplation. “Do they use different names in court?” she asked. “Is that how—”

“Oh, no, they’re ridiculously up-front,” Lilah replied, reaching into her bag and handing Jenny a neatly typed list. “Here.”

“And this is?” Jenny scanned the list. Cordelia Chase, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, Tara Maclay…

“These are people who Wolfram and Hart want out of the way,” said Lilah. “They know things that could be very dangerous to the firm’s future as a whole, and it’s very likely that Wolfram and Hart is going to try to swoop in and silence them before they can say anything incriminating.” It was impossible to see her eyes behind the sunglasses, but her voice was hesitant and earnest. “They’re good people, Ms. Calendar.”

“So my job is to what, protect these people?” said Jenny uncertainly. “I don’t know if that’s something I can do all that easily.”

“Your job is to locate them and get them to come to Los Angeles, because they sure as hell won’t trust someone like me,” Lilah’s smile faded, becoming something more nervous yet still strangely calculated. “Ms. Calendar—Jenny—I know this isn’t the easiest thing to believe, but I really do want to do good for these people. I have connections. I can at the very least protect them until Wolfram and Hart turns their attention elsewhere.”

“Lilah—” Jenny began.

“I want to get these people to testify against Wolfram and Hart,” Lilah persisted. “They’re the only ones who can take down the company, or at least start some kind of a process to expose it for what it is.”

“This isn’t the kind of thing that I—”

“Please,” said Lilah, and took Jenny’s hand, removing her sunglasses to look at Jenny with long-lashed eyes the color of sea glass.

Unconsciously, Jenny drew in a sharp breath. Lilah’s hand was soft, the fingers long and elegant. Touching her felt like a dizzying electric shock, and, and— “Yes,” Jenny said, only half-aware of what she was agreeing to. This case was a bad idea, probably, if she was already so smitten by this gorgeous mystery of a woman. “Yes. I—I’ll do my best, but I don’t know what I can promise.”

“That you’ll try.” Lilah smiled, beautiful and unreadable once more. “Honestly, Jenny, that’s enough of a promise.”

“Sexy hand-holding.” Rupert sounded very close to laughing.

“How about you shut up?”

“You called me, dear,” Rupert reminded her, “using the exact phrase ‘sexy hand-holding,’ I am allowed to make as much fun of you as I like.” He hesitated, then, “But Faith’s all right?”

“Doing better.” Jenny glanced affectionately over at Faith’s closed bedroom door. “She fell asleep right after she finished her orange juice.”

“Dawn wants to make her a get-well card,” Rupert said fondly. “You’re sure you don’t want me to come over? I can help make soup. You’ll recall—”

“Yeah, yeah, that one time I blew up the microwave trying to reheat a Hot Pocket, you’re literally never going to let me forget that, right?” Jenny leaned against the wall, smiling. “Look, mostly I just wanted to call you to check and see if we could work on the case at my place tomorrow. Faith’ll probably be okay, but—”

“Certainly.” Rupert sounded peaceful and happy, which meant that his kids were probably asleep too. “I can bring soup over.”

“No way, England, I am not having you busting your ass to make soup and drive here at ten PM—”

“Then don’t call me and tell me your daughter’s sick, Jenny,” said Rupert, as though this was blatantly obvious.

“I was calling you to tell you about the sexy hand-holding and the reason I didn’t go to Caritas!” Jenny objected with a laugh. “Look, just, just don’t worry about the soup, okay? I have stuff here, Faith’s going to be crashed on the couch watching movies, just bring over some old case files so we can go through and research the people on Lilah’s list. Or, you know, bring a laptop.”

“You know how I feel about laptops.”

“Yeah, yeah, technophobic Luddite, I know.” Jenny stared out the window of the hallway, looking out at the starlit sky. “Thanks for this.”

“Of course,” said Rupert softly. After a moment, he cleared his throat awkwardly and added, “Get some sleep, all right?”

“You too, Mr. Giles, don’t think that you can fuss over me so much that I forget to look out for you,” Jenny teased. “Let’s say you show up at noon with research snacks and whatever you need to search people up, and I make us a late breakfast?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Rupert agreed. “Goodnight, Calendar.”

“Goodnight, Giles,” Jenny said. She waited for a few more seconds before hanging up; Rupert never hung up before her, and she liked knowing that he was still there on the other end of the line. Then, after she’d hung up, she added, “Snob,” to make herself feel a little less like she was being cheesy and sentimental. Turning away from the window, Jenny pocketed her phone before quietly entering Faith’s room.

Faith was sound asleep, still; she’d fallen asleep halfway through an episode of one of her paranormal mystery documentaries and she hadn’t paused it. Carefully, Jenny turned off the laptop, tucking Faith in and smoothing down her hair. Faith stirred, but didn’t wake, making a sleepy, contented noise and moving towards Jenny’s touch.

“Night,” Jenny whispered, and placed Faith’s laptop safely on her desk, turning off the light as she left the bedroom.

She’d fallen into a holding pattern, these last few weeks, just waiting for someone to walk through the door with a case. She hadn’t been expecting someone as brazen and flirtatious as Lilah, someone who so easily left her breathless, and she certainly hadn’t been expecting Lilah to have a case this genuinely intriguing. Rupert, always cautious, still seemed somewhat unwilling to take Lilah’s words at face value, but Jenny wanted to believe that this kind of thing could be her big break as a detective. This could be the case that helped her make a difference in the world.

Suddenly, abruptly, Jenny was reminded of the last time she’d felt this kind of hope, and she realized just why Lilah’s earlier words had sounded so familiar.

Wolfram and Hart works in the shadows to make sure that the crime in Los Angeles doesn’t go away.

“Darla,” said Jenny, quietly, so as not to wake up her daughter. “Darla got that light sentence,” and she ran for her laptop. Sleep would have to wait.

[littleplebe]

Heeeey! I'm in love with your fics! How about a Darcy meets Peter Parker/Spiderman

Hey, thank you! I’m happy you like my fics. Here’s the Darcy-Peter meet cute you asked for. Hope you like it.

Darcy Lewis pulled out apocket mirror from her bag and held it strategically before her face. A dark,almost deserted street stretched out behind her, lit only by the dull glow ofthe ancient street lamps lining the old Queens neighborhood.

A short dude in a hoodie wasfollowing her. He had been on her tail since she had walked out of the movietheater, where she had waved him off as another moviegoer headed in the same direction,but once her friend hugged her and they separated to go their own ways, Darcybegan to fret about the steady thump of footsteps behind her. They were carefuland not that loud, but in the silence of the night, with only the softpitter-patter of raindrops hitting the pavement, the footsteps sounded clearand ominous. Whenever she stopped, they faltered, and Darcy knew this was nonormal guy trying to hit on her by being a persistent stalker.

She couldn’t exactly turnaround and confront him—in her line of work, it was better to either keepwalking or give them the element of surprise—but once she caught a glimpse ofhim through her handy mirror, she knew what to expect. She wasn’t able to seehis face under the hood, but he was short, not too bulky, and carried abackpack. If it wasn’t for his confident, purposeful walk, Darcy would haveassumed he was a young student.

She drew her phone from herjacket and quickly dialed Tony. The call went to voicemail.

“Hey,” Darcy began in awhisper. “So, I’m being followed. It’s just one dude, and I have my taser. So,there’s nothing to worry. But just in case I don’t return home tonight,organize a nationwide search for your favorite lab manager. Got it? Great.”

She was joking, of course.There would be no nationwide search. Darcy’s phone had a tracker which wouldlead Tony straight to her in case of an unfortunate assault or kidnapping.Granted, it wouldn’t do much good if she lost her phone or her attacker threwit away before dragging her to his evil lair, but there was no way Darcy wasagreeing to Tony’s suggestion of being micro-chipped for safety.

“Being injected with a trackerdoesn’t guarantee safety,” she remembered arguing with Tony months ago. “Itonly guarantees rescue. And I could very well be dead by that time.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. She wasbeing dramatic thinking about the worst possible outcome. She was going to befine. Her fingers gripped the smooth surface of the taser in her bag as shewalked determinedly toward the entrance of a side alley some distance ahead. Shewould have her element of surprise even if it killed her.

Again with the melodrama, Darcy.

As casually as she could, sheslipped into the alley and flattened herself against the building. Her prizedweapon was out and clutched tightly in her hand. She stood at the ready, takinga deep calming breath which did nothing to soothe her racing heartbeats. Justas she’d predicted, the hooded figure came to an abrupt stop at the entrance ofthe alley, and Darcy let out an unintentional battle cry, launching herself athim and taking him down with the force of her tackle.

It wasn’t exactly her plan tojump him. She had only wanted to make sure he really was following her before letting her taser do all the talking. Notfor the first time, though, her body decided to betray her for an adrenalinerush.

She straddled him and rainedblows on his back. “Going to stalk me, huh?” Punch. “Gonna rape me, huh?”Another punch. “Not today, pal.” Thefact that he wasn’t trying to fight her didn’t even cross her mind. She grabbedhis shoulder and raised her hips just enough to roughly turn him around, thenpointed her taser at his chest and huffed triumphantly, “You picked the wronggirl to mess with.”

“Hey, no wait!” A high-pitchedsquirrely voice shouted and Darcy thought she recognized that voice, before herrestless finger twitched involuntarily against the trigger and the electrodesshot out, hooking into his chest, making him squeak and convulse beneath her.

The hood slid back from hisface and Darcy gasped, shooting up and away from him. The taser dropped from herfingers as she gaped at the familiar face. He was an intern at the tower. Shehad seen him following Tony around on a couple of occasions. Oh God, had shejust beaten up a… a kid?

“Ms. Lewis,” he rasped,sitting up. And Darcy jumped into action, crouching by his side but nottouching him.

Still jerking ratherunpleasantly, he pulled the barbs from his chest and turned watery eyes in herdirection. “That shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did.”

Darcy’s face scrunched up andshe slumped dejectedly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean… I thought you were goingrape me or kill me or something…”

The kid looked scandalized.“No!” he exclaimed in his adorably high-pitched voice. “It’s late. But I didn’tthink you’d want my company, so I was just keeping an eye on you from adistance.”

If it had been any othersituation, Darcy would have laughed in his face. An unarmed teenager trying toprotect a grown-ass woman with a weapon? That’s cute.

Considering she had justbeaten up and electrocuted a fifteen yearold, Darcy didn’t see the humor in his words. “That’s very… chivalrous ofyou,” she said dubiously. “But, as you can see, I can take care of myself justfine.”

“Yeah,” he said absently,looking at his hands. “You fried my web slingers.”

“Your what?”

“Uh… never mind,” hestammered, curling his fingers into fists and stuffing them in his pockets.

“Can you stand?” Darcy askedkindly.

He nodded and hopped up,leaving her stumped. She had never seen anyone recover from an electric shockso fast. Not just any kind of electric shock; the kind which comes from aStark-powered megawatt taser.

He must have guessed herthoughts because he hastened to explain, “I’m stronger than I look.”

“Oookay,” Darcy said slowly,getting to her feet and giving him a onceover. “You’re far away from hometoday, aren’t you? You’re Tony’s intern.”

He shook his head. “I livehere, actually. In Queens. Mr. Stark is my mentor.”

Tony… a mentor? “Right,” she murmuredwryly. He was more likely to corrupt little kids than guide them.

“What are you doing here?” the boy asked curiously. “I have on good authoritythere are movie theaters in Manhattan too.”

Darcy snorted. The kid wasfunny. “What’s your name?”

“Peter,” he said, his cheeksgoing pink for some reason. “And you’re Darcy. I know everything about you.” Hisbrown eyes widened and he whispered to himself, “Didn’t mean to say that.”

Darcy laughed and checked herwrist watch. It was one thirty in the morning. “Come on,” she said, swiping hertaser from the ground and tossing it in her bag. “Let’s talk on our way home.”

Peter nodded. “Cool. Thesubway’s that way. I’ll drop you to the tower.”

“What, no!” Darcy saidincredulously. “I’m dropping youhome. Where do you live?”

“Not far,” he replied, lookingaffronted. “I can get home without an escort, trust me. But if Mr. Stark findsout that I let you—”

“Oh, God,” Darcy interrupted.“Please tell me Tony didn’t put you up to this.” Because if he was recruiting frikkingteenagers to follow her around likebodyguards, then he had one hell of dressing down coming his way.

“No!” Peter said immediately.“He didn’t. I just… know you, and I can’t let you go off into the night alone.This is a dangerous neighborhood.”

Darcy looked aroundskeptically. It was a residential area, and it was deserted. It didn’t lookdangerous at all. In fact, combined with the soft yellow glow of the streetlamps, the slight drizzle of rain, and the occasional stray cat jumping fromrooftops, the sight was really quite picturesque. It would make a lovely painting.

Darcy gave Peter a flat look.“And I suppose you can protect me from danger?”

“I most definitely can.”

“Remind me again who taseredwho right now?” she teased.

“That was…” Peter flushedindignantly. “That was just me trying not to hurt you. I have awesomereflexes.”

“And yet you didn’t stop mefrom jumping on you and pummeling you with my fists.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” he saidin a small voice, looking down.

Darcy grinned and resisted theurge to pinch his cheek. He was so cute, she wanted to hug him. “Come on, let’sget you home, and then I can go and tell your mentor the kind of heroic stunts you pull after school.” Shescoffed softly to herself. “Keeping an eye on you, he says.”

Peter huffed and slunk downthe road beside her.

After a moment of silence, Darcyglanced at him sideways. “Wouldn’t your parents be worried that you’re out solate?”

“I live with my Aunt May,”Peter replied casually, kicking a stone with his foot. “My parents are dead.”

Her heart twinged painfully athis words. “I’m sorry.”

At that moment, Darcy’s phonestarted vibrating and she pulled it out to see Tony’s face on the screen. Sheshowed it to Peter, who sighed, before taking the call. “Hey, Tony. What’s up?”

“Where are you?” came hisurgent demand. “Are you okay?”

“I’m heading home. I’m fine.But look who I ran into!” She turned the screen to face an awkward lookingPeter.

“Hi, Mr. Stark.”

Tony looked surprised, andsuspiciously relieved, to see him. “Pete, hey. Did you save Darcy from herstalker?”

“I saved myself!” Darcy huffedpetulantly.

Peter grinned. “There was nostalker, Mr. Stark. Ms. Lewis thought I was the bad guy and beat me up.”

“What?” The billionaire shotDarcy a look of disbelief. “You beat up a fifteen year old?”

“His hood was up,” sputteredDarcy defensively. “And he was freaking me out!”

Tony shook his head, thenburst out laughing. “You all right, Pete?” he asked between snorts.

“Yes, sir,” smiled Peter. “ButI need to talk to you about my slingers.” He said the last word in a whisperand Darcy narrowed her eyes at him.

“No problem. Come by the towerafter school tomorrow.” Tony’s gaze swept to Darcy. “Stay with the kid. I’llhave Happy pick you up.”

“Tony, wait…” Darcy began toprotest, but he had already hung up. “Shit!” She turned to Peter with a puzzledfrown. “He seems to think I’m safe with you.”

Peter nodded earnestly. “You are safe with me.”

Darcy pursed her lips inspeculation. First, there was the idea that Peter had seen her strolling aloneat night and had decided, without fear or hesitation, to keep an eye on her.Second, there was the really disturbing way he had easily pulled the taser barbsfrom his skin, like he was simply plucking a hair from his brow. Third, the wayhe had jumped up jauntily the very next second. And fourth, Tony thought shewas safer with Peter rather than alone.

“Who are you, exactly?” Darcyasked him with narrowed eyes.

Pat came his reply. “PeterParker, science nerd, class loser, fortunate SI intern.”

Darcy hummed, unconvinced. Shedidn’t press him though. She’d discover his secret eventually. “Cool. So, youwanna hang out with me in Jane’s lab tomorrow?”

The immediate shift in his facialexpression was incredible. His eyes fairly lip up and he noddedenthusiastically. “Can I call you Darcy?”

Tell me what you wish me to write. I just might write it.

[paganinpurple]

A Crushing Revelation - Ch 2

“She just acts super-different around me. Nothing like how she acts with everyone else. It’s…odd.”

“Oh Kitty,” she said turning to look at him with a sort of pitying humour in her eyes, “you really don’t get it, do you?”

“Uh, no,” he said rolling his eyes at her, “That’s why I’m confused.”

Ladybug held her smirk and sighed, putting her face in her hand for a moment before lifting it again and giving him a piercing look that said to take note of what she said next, that it would be important.

“She has a crush on you.” ______________________________________________

Adrien has often been confused by Marinette’s odd behaviour around him and Ladybug can tell when something is on Chat’s mind so he decides to confide in her as vaguely as possible. Marinette might not recognise herself but she definitely recognises the signs of a girl in love. How does Adrien react to the new realisation that one of his closest friends likes him as more than a friend? And what will he do with this information when Ladybug points out that it seems like he likes her too?

Read on AO3 or FF.net         <<Ch 1     Ch 2     Ch 3>

Chapter Two - Adrien is in Denial

“She has a crush on you.”

“Wut.”

“She has a crush on you.” Ladybug's words continued to echo in his head.

Chat stared blankly at her with wide-eyed confusion. His eyes burned but he couldn't quite bring himself to close them. He searched for something to say but all of the eloquent words his brain usually contained seemed to slip away from him as he grasped out at them, like tadpoles swimming hastily from the net that was intended to catch them.

“Uh sorry, did you say...did...WUT!?”

He finally blinked as Ladybug began to guffaw at his lack of articulation and slowly came back to himself a little. He snapped his gaping mouth shut and his eyes narrowed. He wrinkled his nose as he tried to think of a good retort for such an obvious joke as it seemed as if she was just trying to make fun of him. After all there was no way Marinette was crushing on him. That just...wasn't possible. This wasn't his Lady's usual brand of teasing though and he couldn't help feeling a little annoyed by her laughter.

“I said,” Ladybug said interrupting his thoughts, “she has a crush on you. It's so obvious, don't tell me you haven't even considered it.”

“She does not have a crush on me,” he huffed at her and gave her the dirtiest look he could summon, which wasn't all that convincing. Despite how she was always accusing him of being an alley cat, he was actually pretty pathetic at throwing shade. “She can't,” he insisted when she didn't seem all that convinced, “she doesn't act anything like the other girls who do have crushes on me.”

Her eyes sparkled frighteningly and a teasing smirk returned to her laughter flushed face. Oh no.

“Oh, so there's more than one girl you know who likes you? With your horrible flirting and terrible puns? Really?”

“Hey!” he said indignantly, “I'll have you know that my devilishly handsome face has many admirers. And my flirting and puns are a meow-sterpiece!”

She scoffed at that and pulled her legs up from where they were dangling over the edge of the building to sit facing him, crossing her legs once she was comfortable.

“So how do your admirers act then?” she cocked her head to the side as she awaited his answer, humour evident in her expression.

“Why?” he asked hopefully, “Jealous?”

“Dream on Minou.” She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly and dropped the smirk to give him a confused half-frown. “If you're so sure this girl doesn't like you because she doesn't act like the others, it makes me wonder how the other girls act. I mean, if it's made you so oblivious-” she raised an eyebrow and her mask creased with the movement, “-to teenage girls and how they usually act around boys they like, it's got to be good right?”

“Oh.” he mirrored her and raised an eyebrow back in her direction, but he guessed there was no harm in telling her about Chloé or Lila, as long as names weren't mentioned. They were the only two with crushes on him who had actually spoken to him for longer than about five minutes. He was sure there was plenty other girls who were crushing on him from his magazine spreads but he didn't know any of them personally. They probably just thought they knew him from interview bios and whatever crap his publicist put on his official social media accounts. To be honest, he found that a little creepy.

“Um...” he cleared his throat loudly as he began to feel really awkward. He was discussing other girls who definitely liked him with the love of his life. He glanced down at his knees and scratched at the back of his neck. He gave his leg an experimental kick over the edge as he considered how to phrase his thoughts. God this was weird.

“Well, they-they're all over me.” There. That was the gist of it wasn't it? But she was just staring at him, waiting for more. He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the heat he could feel across his cheeks. “They get all touchy-feely. Linking arms with me, grabbing my hand when they talk. Obvious flirting, like heavy flirting. Pet names for me-” he grimaced and glanced up to meet her eyes nervously when he heard her chuckle, “And getting in my personal space. And it's pretty obvious someone likes you when they make a big deal about wanting to kiss you. In front of everyone.” He added the last part as an afterthought as he remembered Chloé's many attempts.

It was that same last part that had Ladybug scowling angrily. It made his heart soar sweeping into his throat like a wave had engulfed it. He wondered if this was finally a sign of the green eyed monster? Was she finally starting to get annoyed by the idea of someone else trying to lock lips with him? He smiled toothily and watched her lips purse as she prepared to speak. Her screwed up face reminded him of when Plagg got a particularly foul piece of Cambert too close for comfort.

Meanwhile Ladybug's mind was whirling unpleasantly. She wasn't liking the sound of this. To her it seemed like these girls were just trying to show Chat off as some kind of trophy, or make it hard for him to say no when so many people would be there judging his rejection.

“That sounds more like them trying to guilt you into a kiss than genuinely caring about you as a person,” she said, “That's not very nice. Most girls might think of getting a kiss as a big deal but they'd try to downplay it in case they scared you off.”

He frowned at her words and tilted his head in confusion, cat ears pricking up like a curious kitten. That definitely didn't sound like something Chloé or Lila would do. They didn't seem to know how to do anything without drawing a crowd. They were 'centre of attention' type girls.

“Really?” he asked, “Not in my experience.”

She glanced down and gently bit at her bottom lip as she contemplated how to explain what she was thinking. His eyes immediately caught the motion and stayed rooted to her mouth, eyes mesmerised and chest tightening. He sensed her movement a half-second before she looked at him and glanced up, not wanting to be caught staring.

“Chat, I think you're right in that these girls do like you...but I think you're overlooking that there's other ways for girls to act when they have a crush too. These girls sound like they're very confident when it comes to, well, acting on their feelings. Not all girls are like-”

“But the other girl,” he exclaimed suddenly, “the one who acts weird, she's really confident!” His voice had become desperate and high pitched again. He could sense how serious she was now and the thought had him somewhat panicked. There was no way Marinette liked him. Not someone he was such good friends with. None. Right?

“Around everyone except you!-” she extended her index finger and gently prodded him in the chest as she spoke, “She doesn't have a handful of people she acts differently around from what you've told me. She's just insecure about how she acts around you. The one person it matters most that she looks good around. It makes her shy and unable to think straight. And the more she likes you the odder she'll act.”

Chat stared straight ahead, unblinking and wondered if his stomach had jumped off the Palace without him. Maybe it had leapt up into his chest instead? Was he still breathing? He had to remember to breathe. He felt light-headed. This couldn't be true. Marinette...had a crush...on him? Marinette!? Eyes wider than they'd ever been, he launched himself to his feet and took a step away from his Lady in disbelief, nearly stepping to the wrong side and slipping off the edge of the Palace in the process.

“No! No-no-no-no-no! That's not possible!” he told her, hands coming up to grab fistfuls of his hair right beneath his cat ears, “She doesn't act like she likes me, she acts more like she's embarrassed! She doesn't want to spend time with me on her own, it makes her freak-” his hands dropped as did the pitch of his voice as he started to come to a shocked realisation- “ooouuuuut.”

He glanced at Ladybug as he dragged out the last low word of his outburst and recognised the sympathetic look she shot him as one she often used whenever he was feeling down about himself and needed the comfort. He shrieked embarrassingly, a hand flying to his mouth to smother the sound. He could feel his cat ears and tail standing perfectly upright and shuddering. He started to wobble, his knees feeling like they were about to buckle beneath him.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Just...need a minute,” he told her, both hands suddenly covering his face, “Maybe a week.”

He abruptly remembered how Nino had acted when he'd had admitted to having a crush on Marinette. He'd found it strange but funny that his friend had suddenly been too frightened to go anywhere near her without lots of prompting and had completely lost his ability to talk coherently around her. Why had he never managed to make a connection between his best friends behaviour towards someone he knew he liked and a girl who acted the same way towards him? And oh God, that day, she'd seemed super excited when he'd asked her to meet them at the zoo on Nino's behalf. And she'd seemed very eager to know where he was when Nino had shown up alone. Had she thought he was asking her? Her behaviour was slowly starting to make sense a little bit at a time.

Marinette liked him. Marinette liked him.

She always seemed embarrassed to him because she was always blushing. She was blushing because she liked him. She freaked out about being left alone with him. She was freaking out because she liked him. She stammered and mixed up her words. Because she liked him. Marinette had feelings for him, and apparently it had been obvious.

He let out a whine. “I'm such an idiot.”

He dropped his hands, shoulders drooping with the movement. He slumped back over towards the edge and sat himself down cross-legged in front of Ladybug, head bowed low. All those weird comments Alya and Nino always made that he didn't understand were suddenly making a whole lot of sense. They knew. And they knew that he had no idea. They'd been teasing Marinette and they'd done it right in front of him.

“So...just how weird does she act? Scale of one to ten?”

Wow. That was a pretty open question. He lifted his head a tiny fraction and looked up at her through the hair that had fallen into his eyes, trying to use it as a shield against the inevitable taunting to come.

“In comparison to what?”

“To whatever is normal when she's around everyone else.”

He groaned. “Oh God. We're talking an eight or a nine. Maybe just starting to hit a ten.”

There was an aborted snicker from her and he noticed she'd clamped her lips together in an attempt to keep her giggling silent. It was somewhat ruined by her shaking shoulders.

“Oh just get it over with,” he mumbled, lifting his head and glaring at the tower in the distance behind her in a childish attempt to avoid her gaze.

“This girl loves you, Kitty!” She exploded in a fit of laughter, doubling over to hug her arms and leaning her elbows on her crossed legs as she howled through the tears quickly collecting in the corners of her eyes.

He screwed his eyes shut. His Lady wasn't perturbed by this in the slightest. On the contrary, this was giving her a ridiculous amount of joy if her unladylike snorts were anything to go by. Well, maybe it was just too much to ask that there would be something for him to tease her about in return.

“I don't see what's so funny about this.” he told her when she had started to relax somewhat and had begun wiping her eyes and face.

“Oh Chaton, it's hilarious. This girl might potentially like you more than any of these other girls and you had absolutely no idea. Especially since you say she didn't like you at first. You must have done or said something when you fixed it. Something so huge it made her start fawning over you right away.”

When he'd given her his umbrella, he realised. He'd poured out his soul to her trying to explain that it wasn't him that had placed the chewing gum on her seat and that he just wanted to make friends like everyone else. He'd been so sure that baring his emotions so rawly would help her to realise he was sincere, but it hadn't occurred to him she might become enamoured with him because of it. And he'd given her his umbrella because she had to walk in the rain and he had a car waiting for him. He didn't mind getting a little wet if it saved her from getting soaked. In hindsight he could see how that might be something that would make somebody a little infatuated. Oh God, she'd stammered when she'd tried to say goodbye that day.

“I thiiiiiink I know when that was. Now that I'm thinking about it,” he groaned again, “What am I going to do?”

Ladybug looked at him, no longer laughing but a large grin still planted on her pretty face. “Is she cute?”

“What!?”

“Is she cute? Pretty? Totally disregard the fact that you know her or whatever you feel for her. What do you think of how she looks?”

Was it usually this warm outside at this time in the evening? He swore his face felt sunburned, and he was half expecting his mask to start smoking. Ladybug leaned forward to examine the pink flush dusting his cheeks and it bloomed darker than before, this time due to her proximity.

“Why Chat Noir, are you blushing? I would say that means you do think she's a pretty girl.”

“What!? I don't–I mean, yeah she's pretty but–that's not why-that is I-I don't-I DON'T THINK ABOUT HER LIKE THAT!” he stuttered out. She was so close, too close and this line of questioning was so unbelievably awkward. His stomach was fluttering as if a swarm of akumas were taking up residence there and he clenched his fist, his claws pricking into his palm as a distraction from her radiating body heat.

“Why not?”

“What?”

She leaned back again and he exhaled, not even aware he'd been holding his breath until then.

“Why don't you think about her like that? Have you ever even considered it? 'Cause if you have and then decided you don't like her that way then that's fine. But if not, how do you really know you don't like her?”

“But surely if I'd thought about it at all, it would mean I liked her? Wouldn't that be like admitting that the person I love isn't-I mean, there's only one person I want to think...” he trailed off suddenly, becoming aware of what he was admitting and who he was admitting it to. He cleared his throat loudly and tried to pretend he didn't see the way Ladybug's brow furrowed or her eyes widened as she started connecting the dots in her head.

Ladybug tried not to think too much about the implications of what he'd said combined with the way he'd trailed off like that. Maybe his slight crush on her wasn't so slight after all, given the way he seemed nervous about how he'd mentioned it. And he'd used the word love so casually. It wasn't his usual style to say something like that so seriously, it was mostly flirty teasing or over-exaggerated devotion that made her feel it was a bit of a joke to him too. She's have to be careful now not to be too harsh in the way she turned down his advances from now on.

“So,” he said suddenly, clearing his throat and trying for a light-hearted, somewhat embarrassed tone to lighten the awkward mood, “how do you even go about acting around someone you know has a crush on you? You know, when they have no idea that you know?”

“What?” she said looking at him like he'd just handed her an octopus suddenly and without explanation, “Just act like you always do. Why would you need to change?”

Because I don't think I'll be able to ignore her acting weird now that I know why.