#brackets which is the part I slacked off on my last tournament. actually I still haven't posted the final brackets I'm gonna do that now.

[episodeoftv]

You know what I'm just gonna link the bracket too. It's not very easy to read bc most of the titles are too long, which is why I'll make an actual nice looking bracket later, but it does tell you what the matchups are

Round 1 is over!

I’ve been kind of slacking off on the spreadsheet‚ but here it is ready for round 2!

They are listed alphabetically by show title and will tell you which group of voting they are in. Episodes that are still in the running are in bold. There is also a second sheet listing only those that made it to round 2.

Edit: the round 2 sheet is organized by group bc I thought having that also alphabetical might be a little redundant

Edit 2: oops forgot to link to Round 2

[thenovelartist]

AU August - Day 31 - Fencing AU

I finally finished the story I started back when the incredible @megs-ils​ did a few fencing AU pieces. Here and Here. This is the origin story I thought up for them.

“Knock it off, you two,” Mr. Dargencourt warned. “More sparing, less flirting.”

Marinette could feel her cheeks burn at that. Was it that obvious? And here she thought she had her crush under control.

“Flirting?” Adrien jested. “Marinette doesn’t know the meaning of the word.”

“Says the boy who tried a pick-up line from an anime on some poor damsel.”

“At least I can string a sentence together. But then again, I’m certain a blush and stutter does wonders for stealing a boy’s heart.”

She lashed out.

He tapped her.

She inwardly cursed.

He flicked up his mask, revealing that infernal, handsome, cheeky, dazzling grin. She lived for that grin, even at the cost of a loss.

“Touché,” she admitted, lifting her own mask.

“Control your temper, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Mr. Dargencourt warned. “You could have easily beat him with his sloppy footwork.”

Adrien shrugged, smile still on his face.

Mr. Dargencourt shook his head. “What am I going to do with the two of you. Both immensely talented yet refuse to focus.”

“Send us home because it’s the end of fencing club?”

Mr. Dargencourt looked at the clock. “Aye. That it is. Disband.”

So, they headed to the locker rooms, changing out of their fencing attire and collecting their things. Marinette was the only girl in the female locker room. Sure, it was a shame that not more women were in the club, but it gave her pride knowing that she could beat the boys.

As she exited, Adrien was there waiting for her. As always. “Walk you home?”

She grinned. “Thanks.”

They walked side by side out of the school and towards Marinette’s house. “Are you going to the fencing tournament this weekend?” Adrien asked.

Marinette sighed. Yes, she heard about it. She’d signed up—not that Adrien knew about it—and won the local sparing competition to see if she could have a spot. But… “My parents won’t let me go.”

Adrien looked at her, wide-eyed. “Why not? It would be a blast to watch.”

“It’s too far away, on the other side of Paris. They’d have to drive me and they’re too busy.”

“Oh,” Adrien said with a sigh.

“What about you? That’s sounds like fun.”

Adrien shook his head. “Grounded.”

“Oh! What for this time!” Marinette cried, exasperated.

“I bombed that test—”

“Okay, you did not ‘bomb that test’. No one did well on that test, and you got the second highest grade behind Max.”

“My dad wasn’t happy since it took my grade down.”

“By what?” Marinette exasperatedly challenged.

Adrien remained silent, which was all Marinette needed to know.”

“I think he needs a sabre to the chest,” she grumbled. “Or hilt to the head.”

Adrien chuckled. “I would pay to see that.”

When they arrived at the bakery, they paused at the door. “Do you want to come in for a treat?”

“I’d love to,” Adrien ruefully said. “But I can’t. Father wants me home immediately.”

“Can I send you home with a macron or two, at least?”

He hesitated. “Sure, I’d love that.”

“Give me a second.” Marinette hustled inside, dropping her gym bag behind the counter and earning a warning look from her mother. Quickly, Marinette grabbed small box of pre-boxed macrons from behind the counter and ran back outside to Adrien.

He gave her the softest look. “You spoil me.”

“Anything for my best friend, right?”

It was barely noticeable, but his posture deflated. “Right. Best friends.” He took the box. “I’ll see you at school?”

“Y-yeah,” Marinette said, waving to him as he slowly backed away. “See ya.”

He waved good-bye, but his smile didn’t reach those stunningly green eyes of his.

Once he was out of sight, Marinette retreated back into the bakery, marching past the counter up to her room.

“Ahem.”

Oh… her bag. Right. “Sorry, Maman.”

“And this is why I tell you to take it up to your room.”

She flashed her maman a sheepish grin. Her mother returned the gesture with a fond smile and shake of her head. “What am I going to do with you?” she teased.

“Love me because I’m your daughter?”

Her mother broke out into a full, wide grin at that. “That’s true.”

With one last smile, Marinette took off to her room, dumping her bag on the ground and collapsing on her chaise. “Best friends,” she grumbled. “Yup. That’s all we are.”

…

“Best friends,” he said, dropping his bag on the ground before falling onto his couch. “That’s all.”

He let his eyes drift shut, only to immediately conjure up the most beautiful set of eyes, ones that hardened competitively when faced with a challenge yet could melt a man with the softest and most gentle of looks. Paired with a smile that was dangerous for his heartbeat, he was sure she’d be the death of him.

But they were friends. Best friends. Clearly, that was all she wanted to be.

He sighed and turned on his tv for a distraction. The news was on, reporting on the large fencing tournament that was being set up across Paris. Not only did he want to go just because he loved a good challenge, but he wanted to find a teacher. All the best were going to be there. He’d signed up already and earned his spot in the prestigious competition.

Too bad he was grounded.

Unless he snuck out.

It was really risky. Borderline stupid. There was no way his father wouldn’t notice.

… Then again, this was his father they were talking about.

The only problem was the fact the whole thing would be broadcast. It was quite the prestigious event, after all. The news would be all over it. And if fashion model Adrien Agreste showed up, the news would zero in on him and he would be pulled from school faster than he could blink.

Too bad he couldn’t cover his face.

It took a moment, but a slow smile crept across his face. Well… why not?

…

“Alya, this is a bad idea.”

Alya waved a hand dismissively at Marinette and started the car. “It’s a great idea. Your parents don’t need you and the only thing you need is a ride. How is it not perfect?”

“My parents will catch me.”

“No, they won’t. No way they’ll watch the tourney.”

“But what if someone else sees me then rats me out to my parents and I’ll be grounded for breaking their trust and—”

“Okay, okay,” Alya interrupted, “Calm down. Just wear your mask the whole time. No one will know.”

“But my name will still be displayed.”

Alya frowned, pacing back and forth in Marinette’s room. Suddenly, she gasped. “I’ve got it!” She ran to her backpack, falling to her knees and pulling out a comic book. “Ta-da! New identity.”

Marinette stared at the comic book dubiously. “That’s the best you can come up with?”

“Think about it. Don a mask, a costume, and new name and boom! Instant cover.”

“You’re nuts.”

“Visionary.”

Marinette snorted. “Alya. If you come up with a half-decent idea, I’ll do it.”

Suddenly, Marinette was not liking that smirk on Alya’s face. “You’re on.”

…

Adrien was accustomed to sneaking out to the point he was scarily good at it. He knew how to get all the way across Paris on his own.

With help from Nino.

“Bro, I owe you.”

Nino yawned. “Yeah, you do. You’re paying gas money, lunch, and a new set of headphones.”

When Nino stopped at a light, Adrien pulled out the pair he’d already bought. “Something like this?”

Nino stopped to stare wide eyed at the top-of-the-line pair of studio-quality headphones. “Bro, I love you.”

“You’re welcome.”

When they arrived, Adrien slipped on his mask.

No, not his fencing mask. His black face mask.

Nino stared at him dubiously. “And why’d you think this was a good idea?”

“When don’t I have good ideas?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

Adrien snorted. “Trust me. This is one of my best plans yet.”

Nino stuck with Adrien up to the sign-up table, where Adrien scribbled in his pseudonym Chat Noir.

The sign-up lady looked at him oddly, giving his black fencer’s suit and mask a once over. Adrien shrugged and gave her a charming smile. “It’s my nickname. Most don’t want to cross me.”

She stared at him a while longer before her expression fell back into one of boredom. “Building 1 to the left. Bracket C, number 13.”

“Thank you,” Ad­-Chat said before stepping off to the side. “This,” he said, resting a hand on Nino’s shoulder, “is where we part ways.”

Nino held up a fist. “Good luck, bro.”

Adrien pounded it. “Thanks.”

With one last salute, Adrien wandered off to his section. He wondered inside, searching for anything that said Bracket C. Instead, he found a map with several brackets underneath.

He suddenly was no longer surprised the tournament spanned over the three-day weekend. Sure, there had been many long tournaments he’d had to compete in beforehand to secure this spot, but he didn’t realize this one would be the biggest of them all. There were brackets A-P, each consisting of 16 contestants. Today was basically the preliminaries to decide who actually was worthy enough to stay. He doubted any teachers would be here today, but that didn’t mean he could slack. He had a bracket to win.

…

“I can’t believe this was your brilliant idea,” Marinette whined.

“It will work perfectly.”

“It’s nuts.”

“It’s perfect. I’m a genius.”

Marinette sighed, feeling the face mask underneath her fingers.

“So you decide that I, the clumsiest person alive, should be named after the luckiest animal ever?”

Alya tapped the steering wheel of her van. “Well, it matched that red suit you had in your closet. Besides, you need a little ladybug luck.”

“I’m strangling you for this.”

“When you win the tourney and score an awesome teacher, I’ll make you eat those words.”

When they arrived, Alya waited in line with Marinette at the sign-up table. When they arrived, the lady looked her over. “Did I miss the memo? What is it, Halloween?”

Before Marinette could ask what she meant, the lady pushed a sign-up sheet towards her. Marinette signed her name. Well…nickname. Ladybug.

“Building 3 to your right. Bracket L number 7.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, go win, girl.”

“Thanks, Alya. I have the feeling I’ll need it.”

…

Day two, and Marinette felt twice as confident donning the mask. She’d garnered a bit of a reputation of having lady luck on her side and people did not like facing off with her. She was quick, agile, efficient. Matches were over in the blink of an eye and all they would see is a flurry of red.

It gave Marinette a deep sense of pride, and soon she found she didn’t want to lose such a reputation. She couldn’t disgrace the ladybug, after all.

By the end of the day, she couldn’t help but notice a crowd gathering in her corner of the building. Likely to watch her, the Lucky Lady in Red. Alya filmed her success throughout the day. By the end, she was crowned the winner of her bracket.

“Congratulations on your win, Miss Ladybug” a game manager said, shaking her hand.

“Thank you, sir,”

“Tomorrow, you’ll be heading to building B, where you’ll face off with the 15 winners of the other brackets. Best of luck.”

With that, she retreated up to Alya.

“Girl, you were amazing!” she cried, giving Ladybug a hug.

“Thanks,” she said, returning it. “I’m so excited.”

“You should be!” Alya said, “Play like that and you’ll win the whole thing.”

“Fingers crossed.”

They started down the bleachers, setting their sights on the door when they were stopped by a lady in a simple red dress. “I have to admit,” she said. “Your skills should be what I’m looking for, but I’ve always admired a woman in red.”

Marinette stared at the woman for a moment, and once her brain registered who she was talking to, her jaw hit the floor. “Y-y-you’re…”

The woman smiled. “I’ve got my eye on you, Miss Ladybug. Maybe my lucky bet will be on you. I’d say best of luck, but looks like you’ve already got that.”

With that, the lady walked off towards another match.

“Who was—”

“ALYA!” Marinette squeaked, grabbing her best friend by the shoulders and shaking her. “That was Tikki Fu. The Tikki Fu!”

“I’m so lost.”

“She’s a legend!” Marinette squeaked, looking back over to where the woman disappeared. “She was in the world series and won for France in the female’s division.”

Alya’s jaw was now appropriately on the floor with Marinette’s. “No. Way.”

“YesWay!”

The girls squealed. Any jabber that continued between them was now completely undecipherable and pitched at uncomfortably high levels, but neither girl really cared. Not with the high Marinette was riding on. Now, she was determined not to mess this up. After all, a chance to work with Tikki was on the line.

…

At first, he questioned his idea to wear a mask, black suit, and nickname. The looks he had received were mocking and degrading. One gutsy competitor dared call him a pussy.

But that was before Adrien shredded him.

After that, no one mocked Chat Noir.

He grinned like a cat that got the cream every time he landed a hit. He was good; he knew it. And people were quickly growing afraid of his reputation.

“Kid, if you’re gonna be cocky, better not be afraid to land on your ass.”

Adrien turned around to see a man in a black leather jacket standing nonchalantly against one of the arena dividers.

“Not that the little outfit isn’t amusing,” the man said, slowly standing straight and sauntering towards him. “And the name certainly throws people off, but you better have the skill and focus to back it up.”

Adrien lifted his head shield and watched as the man’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “Quite an act.”

“Let’s just say that I don’t want my face anywhere.”

“Been there,” the man said. “But I also learned real quick where to draw the line.”

And that’s when Adrien’s eyes widened with realization of just who he was talking to. “You’re Paul Fu.”

The man snorted, his lips twisting into a smirk. “Nice to know someone knows my actual name. I’m pretty sure that even Wikipedia thinks my name is Plagg, now. That being said, if you’re gonna have a nickname, better make sure your skills are backing it up, not your mouth. Clear?”

Adrien nodded.

“Good. If you want a teacher at all, you’re going to have to prove that. A lot of them won’t take a smart mouth.”

Adrien knew he was talking from experience, so he nodded. “Yes, sir.”

With an amused smirk and tilt of his chin, Plagg walked passed him by.

Leaving Chat Noir with a warning he wasn’t soon going to forget.

…

The final bracket was organized by bracket letters. A against B, C against D, etc. The competition was fierce, and it was made twice as challenging by the fact trainers were there, ready to pick up new students.

If any competitor wasn’t on edge, then they had no idea the stakes.

Marinette was positively buzzing. All the tea in the world wouldn’t touch her anxiety. Alya revoked her privileges to liquids after a while. “You’re gonna end up having to pee in the middle of a match. You’ll thank me later.”

But she was still sweating. After all, winning the competition would be great, but there was nothing more important than impressing Tikki.

She nearly lost her first dual. It was the closest call she’d had. Thankfully, she came out on top. The second was very similar, but once again, she just eked into the lead.

“Girl,” Alya said, patting Marinette’s shoulder when she was on break. “You need to focus. You’re really off your game.”

“I’m nervous,” she admitted.

“Is this because you want to work with Tikki?”

“Yes!” she hissed. “I don’t want to let her down.”

“If you don’t calm down, you’re going to. Come on, girl. You’re better than this.”

“Knowing and doing are two different things.”

Alya hummed. “Then kick back and watch the competition. You still have to face off a couple more, and you need to learn how to shred them.”

Marinette knew she was right. That was probably her greatest strength, after all. She needed to use it.

“But because I’m curious, what do you think about Mr. Chat Noir?”

Marinette really stared at him. He was…  a ball of pure instinct. From the few matches she’d seen him in, it was clear his fighting style differed between competitors. He was always stronger in the offensive than defensive, but that was the only similarity between his matches. The only downfall she could see was he was cocky. He subtly taunted his competitors, but it was a tactic that always worked well in his favor. This was a sport of class, usually full of stuck up, over-rich pricks, and having someone taunt them during a match was a great way to throw them off. They weren’t used to such behavior.

“I think he’s going to the final round.”

“I think so, too,” Alya said, continuing to film him. “He’s good.”

“He’s something.”

“Just make sure you beat his little tail, got it.”

“I’ll try.”

“See, it’s that sort of attitude that isn’t going to bode well for you.”

Marinette froze. Because that wasn’t Alya.

One again, Tikki was wearing red. “Come now, have some confidence,” she said, taking a seat beside Marinette. “You notice his faults. You plan ahead. Then you go in there and beat him.”

“But what if I don’t?”

“Oh well,” Tikki said with a shrug. “As long as you give all you’ve got, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. The best will lose battles. No one’s perfect.”

Marinette listened, but her nerves didn’t calm.

And Tikki took notice. “This wouldn’t be because you’re nervous about snagging a teacher, would it?”

Marinette whipped around to face Tikki and turned into a sputtering, incoherent mess.

Thank goodness for Alya. “Partly,” she said, wrapping an arm over Marinette’s shoulders. “You see, she’s this really talented and really sweet person who deserves to have a female instructor instead of being the only female in her school’s fencing club.”

Tikki giggled. “Then I guess it’s a good thing that I’ve already decided I want to take you on as a student.”

Marinette turned silent.

Tikki nodded. “You’re very good—obviously, for you to have gotten here—but I have the feeling you’ll be teachable. And I’m not going to waste my time with someone who may be the best fencer here yet won’t listen to my instruction. That, and I’ve always found luck in red.”

Marinette’s heart pounded. “R-really?”

Tikki grinned. “What do you say?”

“Yes!” Marinette cried. “Yes. Please. Really. Thank you. Yes.”

The red-head giggled again. “I knew I liked you. Now, do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Be sure to beat Mr. Cocky in the black, there,” she said. “I have the feeling I know exactly who’s going to pick him up and I’d love to shove it to the man.”

Marinette stared at Chat Noir, watching the lazy way he loped back to his seat then looked over the competition with an arrogant air about him.

She’d take him down. He needed a good lesson. “Deal.”

…

It was times like this that he wished his father would be here. He was doing very well in the tournament, beating competitors left and right. He knew he caught the eye of a handful of teachers. He’d love to be chosen by one of them to continue practicing his craft. One in particular had caught his attention, and if the master Paul Fu picked him up, then that would be the best thing ever.

However, Plagg never approached him. Nor did any other teachers. And it was the last round.

“Ladybug, is it?” Chat said, lazy smile on his face. “I was hoping to get the chance to spar with you. You’ve caused quite a racket.”

“Same as you, Chat Noir,” she said, sticking a hand out to shake. “It will be an honor to spar against you.”

He shook her hand. “It will be an honor to beat you, milady.”

She frowned, then turned and headed towards the arena.

The curt dismissal caught him off guard. Seemed she was the serious type, one focused on the match and movements.

He smirked. He knew exactly how to deal with that.

Throughout the match, he kept fishing for just the right comment that would overthrow her. Teases to playful insults to constantly complimenting her style.

But it didn’t help him win.

She was good, and he was a graceful loser.

Even though it stung a bit.

Or a lot.

He stuck out his hand at the end. “Good round.”

She frowned at him but still shook his hand. “Maybe, if you were a little more serious, things could have gone differently.”

With that, she walked off through the crowd of people wanting her attention.

He was bombarded with people, too. After all, he was second place winner. Not too bad in a competition of this size.

However, when he was never approached by a teacher, he was more than just a little salty. And unfortunately, he knew why.

“They think you’re too cocky,” Nino confirmed. “I overheard a handful of them talking. They think you’re good but arrogant and they aren’t going to take you for it.”

“Yeah, figures,” Adrien mumbled. “Let’s just go home.”

“You did well, bro,” Nino said, slapping a hand on his shoulder. “You should be proud. You’re literally the second-best fencer in all of Paris. And technically, the best guy fencer in all Paris.”

Adrien’s smile was small, but still there. “Thanks bro.”

They navigated the parking lot to Nino’s ride, only to stop when they saw a figure sitting on the hood.

“There you are,” he said, sliding off the car and standing to full height. “Wondering when you’d make it out. Quite a match, there.”

Adrien shrugged. “She was good. I lost fairly,” he answered, doing everything he could to hold back his bitterness. Because it was true; she was good. Heck, everyone he sparred with was good.

He just kinda hoped he was the best.

“No teacher?” Plagg asked with a smirk.

“They all think I’m arrogant, apparently.”

“And you want to correct them?”

Adrien opened his mouth to speak, only to pause. “Maybe a little,” he said. “I just…”

“You just, what?” Plagg challenged.

“I’m not a pussy,” he said. “And I am good and I want to show them they can’t mess with me like that.”

Plagg stared down at him.

Adrien didn’t waver under the pressure.

“What’s your name, kid?” Plagg asked. “If I’m going to train you, I’m gonna need a name.”

Adrien froze, staring wide eyed at Plagg.

He just quirked a brow. “Well?”

“Adrien,” he said. “Adrien Agreste.”

It was Plagg’s turn to quirk a curious brow, but his expression turned into a smug one. “Well, if that don’t explain all,” he commented. He handed him a small card with a number and address. “Call me when you have a schedule, kid. And if daddy refuses, well… you’re what? Nearly eighteen. Daddy can’t control you forever.”

With that, he walked off.

“Dude,” Nino said, breaking Adrien from his trance. “That. Is awesome.”

“You wouldn’t mind giving me rides, would you?”

Nino smirked. “I could use some more DJ equipment.”

Adrien grinned and grabbed Nino’s shoulder. “You are the best friend ever.”

…

“Congratulations!” Alya said, tackling Marinette in a hug once she escaped the swarm of reporters as well as teachers all wanting to take her on. She had to turn all them down and did her best to be as polite as possible.

“Thanks, Alya,” she said, returning the hug. “I can’t believe I won!”

“You should!” Tikki chimed in. “You were fantastic. I knew you were my lucky bet.”

Marinette giggled.

“So,” Tikki said. “I’d like to set up a training schedule as soon as possible. However, I’m going to have to know the girl underneath the mask for that.”

Quickly scanning the room for any reporters or other nosy people yet finding no one, she took of her mask. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she said, sticking out her hand.

“She may or may not have sneaked out in order to be here,” Alya cheekily added. “It’s not a normal thing, though. Just on this one occasion.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean you’re going to abandon Ladybug completely,” Tikki said, shaking Marinette’s hand. “I kinda like it.”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Tikki nodded. “I think it would be fun to have such an alias, and it certainly creates a buzz, don’t you think?”

Marinette shrugged. “I guess so.”

Tikki grinned. “So, should I give you my number to call when you have a schedule worked out?”

“How about,” Alya said, pitching in. “You visit the Dupain-Cheng bakery for lunch.”

Tikki gasped. “Oh, I knew your name sounded familiar. I love the cookies there. I have such a bad sweet tooth.”

Marinette giggled. “Then can you come over after lunch sometime this week so I can tell my parents everything and get their okay.”

“That sounds perfect,” Tikki agreed. “Monday?”

“Monday.”

“Wonderful. I will see you tomorrow. Until then, congratulations on the win.”

“Thank you.”

With a smile and a wave, Tikki headed out

Leaving Alya and Marinette screaming in giddy, girly excitement.