#civilian!marinette

[very-much-here-there-everywhere]

The Beasts Have Eaten It (Chapter One)

To read on Archive of Our Own click HERE.

Paris is burning under a scarlet sky.

Marinette tears through Champ de Mars. Pont d'Iéna crumbles behind her. All she hears is sirens blaring, louder than any cry. When Marinette feels broken tarmac scrape against her sole, she realises she has lost a shoe. It is not all she has lost.

“Manon,” she screams.

Her throat is too dry. No, wet. She tastes blood. Smoke.

“Manon,” she screams again.

“Marinette,” she thinks she hears, though she cannot tell from where.

She cannot distinguish one movement from the next. People pour into the park alongside her. They all run from the epicentre, where she sees red akumas surging into the sky. Like a broiling evil, like a murmuration, they are one liquid mass hung above them.

Time dilates between the pressure of bony elbows and people at her back. It seems too long before Marinette makes it to the centre of the park. She skirts the ring of trees surrounding Place Jacques Rueff, calling out. In her head she is hoping, praying. She is not sure if she has ever prayed before.

Marinette thinks she hears her name again, but the mob heaves around her. She is jostled and loses her footing.

Now she is scrambling on hands and knees. She thinks of every time she crawled to hide for fear of embarrassment, of every time Adrien nearly caught her doing something dumb. Here: the hard press of shoes come down over her. They barely notice the girl beneath their feet.

Through the tangle of legs, she sees her. Manon is crouched low in the underbrush, set off the path Marinette is prone on, fearful eyes locking with her own. Marinette may have wept for it, if she knew there would never be a spare moment for crying again.

“I’m coming,” she wants to say, so she can comfort Manon, but the crowd batters her. Marinette has read somewhere that people can die like this, under the crush of the masses running for their lives.

Marinette pulls herself along the ground. When she is lucky, people manage to hurdle over her. When it is bad, they fall and she has to drag herself out from under the weight of them. She has made it so close to Manon; she can almost reach out and touch her.

Marinette cries out as someone stands on her hand. The force of their heel is only there for a brief second, but it reverberates through her like a thunderclap, up her hand and arm. Something snaps, something grinds, and then she is floating.

Time no longer dilates, it pauses, in a way she though only possible with the power of a Miraculous. For a moment, she wonders. But no, there would be no miracles for Marinette again.

She lives through a beat of full-body numbness and, like a nightmare, time is moving as it should be. There is blinding pain, pain that makes her want to vomit. This is the pain that makes her feel like the world stopped turning, even for an instant, just for her.

She had never known true pain, in all her clumsiness; her miraculous had always made her near invulnerable. If only, she thought, hating herself.

If only.

Marinette sees Manon, with the sweat and grime caked on her too-young cheeks, the pinprick of her anxious stare, and bites back the pain. She drags herself—one last pull—and rolls into the undergrowth with Manon.

Marinette lies on her back, short of breath. She could taste blood earlier. She tastes more now as she bites her lip to hell and back.

“Marinette?” Manon’s voice—and she is so used to it pitched high and whining—is like a whisper here, caught under the density of leaves and branches.

They could be a world way, in one of Manon’s fantasy lands that Alya had helped her make up. They could be somewhere with an enchanted forest, and unicorns, and fairy princesses. Somewhere safe.

“I’m okay,” she lies.

Manon had always been small, but Marinette is only noticing how small now. Her purple overalls look too big. She fits too neatly under these shrubs, where Marinette is all caught and tangled in them.

Marinette notices Manon is still clutching the Ladybug and Chat Noir dolls she had lent her for today. Completely clean and untorn, Manon has kept the dolls in better condition through the chaos than she has her own clothes. She does not expect it to be as bitter a sight as it is.

Marinette rolls onto her side, and presses up on her forearm to get a good look at Manon. “Are you hurt?”

Manon looks down at her arms and considers the small scratches and bruising. They are minor injuries compared to the gash across Marinette’s brow and her bare bleeding feet, but she is only six. Nevertheless, Manon shakes her head.

What a big girl, Marinette would have told her, on any other day.

“Did you see anything weird?”

“Weird? Everything is weird,” Manon rightly points out.

“I mean something strange that came near you,” Marinette explains.

“You said to stay in the park and hide,” Manon says in answer.

“I did, and you did so well”—she presses a hard kiss against Manon’s temple—“staying here all this time. Good girl.”

“I’m the best at hide and seek in my class.”

“I know.”

“Will you tell Maman I did good later?”

“Yes.” Marinette is lying again.

“When I behave for you, she gives me a treat,” Manon tells her.

“You deserve it,” and here Marinette finds it hard not to choke, thinking of Nadja Chamack, of how she always takes her news crew to where the danger is thickest. “I’ve let you have Buginette and Minou all day, haven’t I?”

Manon pulls the dolls closer to her chest, as if to remove them from Marinette’s reach. Marinette wants to laugh, in a kind of hysterical overwrought way, as she remembers that these handcrafted dolls had once, for one day, been the bane of her existence. They had been the catalyst to Manon’s first akumatisation into the Puppeteer when they had been taken away from her.

Marinette does not dream of taking them back now. They are quite possibly now the best defence against Manon becoming akumatised.

But, bon sang, she hates those stupid dolls.

“I need you to keep looking after them,” Marinette says.

Her wide-eyed gratitude is too much. “Really?”

Far too much.

“Yes, you’re good at that, aren’t you, Manon?”

Manon looks at her the way all of Paris looks—looked—at Ladybug. But Manon saves these looks for Marinette. It is breaking her heart. She does not deserve the faith she places in her. Not anymore.

“We need to go.” It comes out as more of a whisper than she intends. She tries again, voice thicker, fuller, lest Manon notice she is succumbing to fear, as a drowning man succumbs to the cold depths. “Time to go, Manon.”

Marinette helps Manon out from below the brushwood and to her feet. The crowd has thinned out now. Some stragglers still run through the park. Others are against the ground, moaning, or unmoving, not quite as lucky in the eddies of the crowd as Marinette had been.

Manon sees this and catches Marinette’s hand in her own. Her hand is small, but her grip is tight, and Marinette hisses in pain.

Wrong hand.

Manon notices, flinching away. “Marinette?”

She recovers, inconspicuous, she hopes, moving herself to Manon’s left. She recaptures her hand with unbroken fingers. Marinette smiles down at Manon, best she can. Manon looks back, frowning.

Is this how she learns I am a liar? Marinette thinks, I have always been a liar.

It is unfair. Marinette wants to smooth out her pinched brow. Manon is not meant to look this way. She wishes her lies could hold out for just a little longer, if only Manon does not have to look like this.

“Why did you have to go, Marinette?”

She means earlier, Marinette realises. Back when she had caught the first wind of danger and had taken to that perilous breeze like a bird of prey on the hunt. It was instinct at this point, with not a care for what—who—she had left behind. When Paris is in danger, Marinette goes running.

But then she had stuck Manon in a bush and had hoped for the best. With what she knew now, she may as well have been leaving her as akuma-bait.

She had been lucky, but she could no longer rely on luck.

“I needed…”—she cannot find the right words—“I wanted to help.”

If she were older, perhaps Manon would have realised it was not the whole truth. Perhaps she would have realised how awful a babysitter Marinette was in leaving her unattended during an akuma attack. Manon’s safety was her responsibility.

But Manon merely nods, because of course Marinette wants to look after people. That is the only Marinette she has ever known.

Marinette’s lies are safe for one more day.

They make their way out of Champ de Mars. Marinette cannot take them North, from where she came. The danger lies in that direction; the looming shadow of the Eiffel Tower is at their backs. Once a beacon of light—and a home for so many memories—it is now outlined in the red of this new Parisian sky.

Marinette takes them southeast, past the École Militaire, down Avenue Duquesne. The streets ahead are growing quieter; the crowds have thinned. There are stragglers, latecomers, those who cannot run.

They pass a family loading up a car; the mother throws heavy bags out the window of a third-floor apartment to the father who piles it atop the laps of their children who sit in the backseat. An elderly woman with a cane lingers at the curb, unwitting in her senility, waiting for the traffic lights to turn. A dog rummages through toppled bins, its leash dragging behind it.

Ladybug would have stopped to help any one of them, but Marinette pulls Manon away, onwards. She passes each with no more than a glance.

Earlier, she had been part of the masses running down Avenue des Champs-Élysées. She cannot forget the sound of the Arc de Triomphe falling apart atop the crowds. The feeling of being unable to do a single thing to help felt like a scorch mark against her heart.

The guilt is her brand to bear.

She wonders who had not taken the emergency alert alarm seriously enough. She wonders who cannot be saved. She wonders whose luck, like her own, has run out.

The streets are too empty. She does not like it.

Marinette tugs Manon closer. “Don’t slow down.”

“I’m tired,” Manon complains, but quickens her pace.

They pass the green strip of thoroughfare that makes up Esplanade Jacques Chaban-Delmas. Where the space is normally filled by sun-seekers sprawled on the grass and the hum of passing cars, the park is silent and stagnant. Noise had engulfed Marinette not but ten minutes prior. She had been so focused on Manon, of the sound of her own blood rushing in her ears, that she had not noticed when the sound of a city being sieged fell into a hush.

“Where is everybody?” Manon asks.

Marinette pretends not to hear, although there are few other sounds to which she could claim distraction. Manon does not ask again.

Halfway down Rue de Babylone, they find a familiar face.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng!”

She knows that voice. She often hates that voice but, in this moment, she is ever so grateful to hear it. It goes to show how much this quiet scares her, that this sound is welcome reprieve.

Chloé Bourgeois power walks towards them, looking like a girl a couple of hours out of time. There is not a hair out of place in her perfectly quaffed ponytail. She looks as if she has been enjoying the balmy weather; having replaced her preferred style of designer capris with a yellow sundress, and has traded out ballet pumps for a pair of low heels. They clack loudly against the pavement as she approaches.

There are about ten boutique bags jostling at her sides. Marinette is not sure she has ever seen Chloé bother to hold something heavier than a phone before.

“It’s your lucky day, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloé says. “You might finally be good for something.”

Marinette blinks, caught off guard by the mundanity of Chloé acting the bully. She cannot find the words to respond in any correct way; she does not think there is one.

“What?” she says.

“Honestly, I’m doing you a favour. Don’t look so aghast. You should close your mouth before you swallow a fly.”

“You’re doing me a…”—the bright yellow of the beau monde before her, the sky cast in red behind—“What?”

Manon leans backwards to peer up at Chloé, nose wrinkled. “Who is this weird girl?”

Chloé narrows her eyes at Manon, then looks back to Marinette, unimpressed. “Come on, I know you’re not exactly as intelligent as me, but you’re not dumb, Marinette. My bags?”

She holds her arms out, shopping bags proffered. Marinette stares.

“Uh…”

“Hello? Earth to Dupain-Cheng; my arms are falling asleep. The aliens called and said you’re acting super strange. Well, stranger than usual.”

Chloé laughs, her standard inauthentically refined laugh. She goes to raise a hand to her mouth, but remembers the bags she holds. She sags under their weight, but seems in no mood to drop them.

Looking closer, Marinette thinks she sees a stiffness in Chloé’s bearing, a tension in her jaw. It is as if someone had left her attitude out in the sun to shrivel. Her rudeness has none of its usual bite; instead, it feels brittle and about to snap.

“Have you seen any akumas?”

“Yes, obviously, dipstick. Look up in the sky.”

“No,” she says, grasping Chloé’s shoulder, “have any touched you?”

This question brings back Chloé as Marinette knows her. She juts her chin out and scoffs in full force. “Ew, no. I’m not about to let one of those icky bugs get one over on me again today. Not while I’m wearing this outfit.”

“Then we need to go,” Marinette tells her, beginning to move. Manon lurches, still tethered to her by their clammy clasped hands. She hears the rustle of tissue paper, of Chloe digging around in her purchases. There is a pause, a snap.

“No.”

Marinette swings around. Chloe has put on a new pair of sunglasses. Their price tag dangles off the temple. “No?”

“No,” Chloé says again.

Marinette looks at Chloé, really looks at her: still clutching at her shopping like a grounding rod—and in Marinette’s mind, it is less ludicrous in this moment that Chloé is holding shopping bags, but more that she is the one holding them in the first place. She thinks, maybe for the first time (not because she is moonlighting as Ladybug, not because of Adrien’s goodness, not because she has this insistent need to be the bigger person), of how alone Chloé seems. A person in good company would not be at a loss for what to do when Paris is under attack.

“Where’s Sabrina?”

“How am I meant to know?” Chloé’s tone is defensive, but her lip quivers.

“She’s always with you.”

“I was trying on shoes in Le Bon Marché. Sabrina went off somewhere, probably to the bathroom or something—I don’t know!”

“You didn’t get the public alert on your phone?”

“I did, but I couldn’t just leave,” Chloé says, like she is stating the obvious.

“Why?”

“I couldn’t carry all these bags.”

“But you are…”

“Yes, because everyone else disappeared!” she exclaims, voice cracking. “I don’t do this by choice.”

“They’ve declared Paris to be in a state of emergency.”

“Ladybug will fix it.”

“Chloé…”

“Ladybug will fix it,” she insists.

Marinette goes quiet; she closes her eyes—breathes.

“We’re wasting time,” Marinette says. “We need to leave.”

“But—"

“You’re holding us up; we need to leave now, with or without you.”

“My shopping…”

“It will slow us down.”

Chloé pushes her hands up under her glasses, wiping at tears. Marinette looks away, feeling an unpleasant lump in her throat, but her own eyes are bone-dry.

She cannot let Chloé cry. It is a risk.

A plan begins to take shape in her mind.

The last text she got from her parents was after the public alert was broadcasted. Her mother told her that they were packing necessities and that she should take Manon outside the city and they would meet after the crisis, once the superheroes had saved the day. Her mother does not know that Ladybug has lost her miraculous; she does not know that Chat Noir is missing in action.

Marinette knows.

Marinette is the only one who knows: the only thing that can save them now is the Miracle box hidden in a dollhouse, in an ordinary girl’s bedroom, atop an unassuming bakery.

“Look,” Marinette says, “I know you want to find Sabrina, but we can’t just wait here. I’m heading to my family’s bakery. It’ll take us past our school. Maybe Sabrina went there.”

“I suppose that’s not your stupidest thought,” Chloé admits, sniffling.

“Right,”—Marinette does not have time to acknowledge her rudeness—“so, you’ll follow us there?”

Chloé straitens up and breathes deeply. “I’ll take one bag,” she declares.

True to her word, Chloé drops all but one bag onto the pavement. They began to move and Marinette looks behind. The akuma cloud has grown larger still. It is not yet upon them, but there is the feeling of it nipping at their heels, a slow impending pursuit.

Marinette tries not to think of the time they have wasted here on Chloé. If Marinette still had access to her miraculous, she would have just scooped Chloé up alongside Manon and swung to safety through the Parisian city skyline. There was a reason she and Chat Noir had always said leave it up to the heroes. Civilian gallantry is a danger.

But it was never once a thought in Marinette’s mind to leave Chloé here.

Manon has been quiet for the most part, even throughout her exchange with Chloé. Marinette is grateful, but finds it strange she had not piped up to agree with Chloé when she mentioned Ladybug. Manon has always adored Ladybug.

If this is the moment that changes, she cannot blame Manon for it. But it feels to Marinette the final nail in the coffin of her intrepid double life and the onset of a punishing solitary existence. In this lay the terrible anathema of knowing things will never be the same; anticipation is a stone’s throw away from sinking into dread.

Today, dread seems a death sentence. To anticipate is to mark herself prey.

She tries not to think of Manon’s quiet pliability. Marinette will keep thinking of how she is appreciative instead.

They continue down Rue de Babylone. Paris seems larger on foot. The street stretches, longer than it ever did when she was late for school.

There is a strange proprioception that haunts her every step; it clings to her like a thin layer of film over her skin. As a superhero, she had never stopped to think of her next move because it came so naturally. As a normal girl living a normal life, her body was everchanging and evermoving—so clumsy but so full of routine. Here: every step feels like she is missing a step, every action so starkly a reaction. She has never been so aware of her own body and how it may fail her.

Marinette hears herself breathing, the swish of Chloé’s dress between her knees, Manon’s uneven tread. Her hair sticks to her forehead. Her left hand is numb. She is still missing a shoe. She wants to call Alya, but cannot bring herself to let go of Manon’s hand.

“Marinette…”

“Not long,”—it’s a reflexive response; she is not sure what actually comes after the not long—“It won’t be long.”

“No, I think I hear something,” Manon says.

Chloé slows down, listening. Marinette sees the moment her brow furrows when she looks up to meet her eyes. “I hear it too.”

They do not make it to the school.

A sound is approaching: like applause, or thunder and hail, the sound of the hunt. At a distance, Marinette sees them. There are people running, hell-for-leather, in their direction. They emerge around the side of a building; the first indication of wrongness is the way they hold themselves—the strangeness of running and no screaming, of faces that stare only straight ahead.

Chloé’s hand is at her wrist. “Marinette—"

These few quickly become the many. In their hundreds, the mob runs down Rue de Babylone. They are not running from, but towards.

“Run,” Marinette says. “Run!”

They fall over themselves; Marinette is scooping up Manon under one arm, Manon’s hands scrabble for purchase across her face—fistfuls of fringe—and Chloé is stumbling in her heels. They sprint with a desperation Marinette did not know she had. Losing her powers has flicked a switch in her head, like there is a furnace inside her made for self-preservation that has previously gone without fuel.

Manon’s sharp little nails press into her neck. Chloé seems to want to scream, but she is breathing so hard her fear leaves her as susurrating squeals. Marinette just runs; she has no plan.

They turn down Boulevard Raspail. It is normally a crowded street, but Marinette only sees a smattering of people now. When Marinette yells at them—her side is burning and she cannot even manage the word ‘run’—they turn to look at her. There is a moment of inertia where nobody takes action, but Marinette can see them registering the sound of the crowd’s approach, the terror on their own faces.

The lingering few evacuees break into panic. A young man in a Université PSL pullover fiddles desperately with his bike lock. Two women fight over an e-scooter. A group much like their own, a boy and his younger brother, hammer their fists on an apartment door. The mob turns the corner; their appearance is met with horrified cries.

Marinette does not look back. She runs like she has never run before. It is like every time she was late to school was a moment made for now. There is gravel embedded in her foot but it is barely a thought. Her attention is split in about ten different directions. She scours their surroundings but sees nothing useful.

For once, she is unable to see a way out. There are no miracles. Her world is grey and broken.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out, to Manon, to Chloé, to Paris.

Paris does not answer.

Instead, the screech of car tires echoes down the boulevard. Manon points to a van skidding around a bend. It tears up the road towards them.

“Help!” Manon cries, locking her legs around Marinette’s side to wave them down.

Marinette thinks she hears Chloé rasp, “Thank God…”

Marinette holds onto Manon tighter. They run to meet the van, as do the other evacuees. The van comes to a stop as they begin to converge.

The front seat window is unwound and inside they see a shock of choppy purple hair.

“Kids!” Their science teacher, Ms Mendeleiev, sits behind the wheel as a sight for sore eyes. She leans part way out of the window to yell, “Dupain-Cheng, Bourgeois! Bring the girl and get in the van right now.”

Ms Mendeleiev’s authoritative tone usually spelt trouble at school, but now Marinette appreciates the direction. She hoists Manon higher into her arms and calls to Chloé, “Come on!”

The van’s side door flies open; the people running ahead of them make it to the door and outstretched hands help them inside. She sees the university student leap up, soon followed by the two brothers. There are others but they are just as far away as them.

Chloé is struggling to keep pace and the mob is nearly upon them, but they only have a couple dozen yards to go. Although Marinette’s arms burn, she finds the power to tear her left hand—the bad hand—away from Manon and use it to pull Chloé along by the very shopping bag she refuses to let go of. “Come on, come on,” she says through gritted teeth.

They are so close. She can see the fearful faces inside the van peering out at them. They are faces they know: Max Kanté, Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Marc Anciel, and Aurore Beauréal.

Their schoolmates scream encouragements at them. The streets of Paris narrow to a pinprick. All Marinette sees is the dark unknown of this open van and where it may take her, with friends within who might not even be her friends at all. If the akumas have gotten to them—if this is some trick—it is a risk she has no choice but to take.

Her world is shaken apart as Chloé falls against her. The shopping bag handles are ripped from Marinette’s grasp and Chloé tumbles to the floor.

“Out of the way!” she hears as the bulky figure of Bob Roth pushes past. He is followed by his nephew XY, who shoulder checks Marinette while she is still disoriented. They both look worse for wear, but prove that even in a crisis they have the energy to behave without regard for others.

The van is ahead, but Chloé is behind. Marinette sees the akumatised mob closing in on Chloé, but with Manon in her arms it seems like she is holding up the weight of the entire world.

“Marinette,” Chloé cries.

Marinette makes a decision that does not feel like a decision at all. She sets Manon down, gives the small of her back and push and says, “Get to the van.”

She looks up at her with her too-wide-eyes. “Marinette?”

It is still far too much…

“Go!”

Manon is stumbling towards the van and Marinette is already turned around and sprinting towards Chloé. Old habits die hard. A civilian in need is like a need of her own. She is running into the fate she deserves—the mess she made. If the mob swallows her whole and she lets it, disguised by one last act of heroism, then it is meant to be.

The miraculous were a pretty lie, one told to her by Master Fu, by Tikki, by herself. They all had it wrong. There was no balance, not where Marinette was involved.

In the end, in her hands, the power of creation was just another tool for destruction.

“Chloé, I’m here,” Marinette says, falling to her knees besides her, linking her arms under Chloé’s shoulders.

Chloé cries as Marinette pulls at her. The tarmac has cut scrapes up the side of her face and legs. She looks small and sad, a stain of yellow against the grey of the road. Her arms wrap around the bag from Le Bon Marché, wrinkled and torn.

“It hurts,” she says, face wet with tears.

“Yes,” Marinette gasps, because it does. Chloé is right. It hurts—she hurts all over, body and mind—and she is about to reap what she sowed.

The mob’s footfall thunders. The front of the crowd surges like the tide. Marinette clings to Chloé tight.

They are upon them, bearing down. Their mouths are stretching open, with small white-pink wriggling things inside, larvae dropping out and falling at their feet, then—

“Princess!”

An extended staff spins overhead. They hear the dull sickening sound of metal meeting flesh. Akuma-touched Parisians are knocked away and Marinette is frozen in place at the epicentre of this chaos, like she is caught in the eye of a hurricane, barely breathing.

The way Chat Noir fights now is a familiar yet alien sight. He is above them fending off their attackers with a feral intensity Marinette has never seen. There is no display in this, no artistry, nor fanfare. She does not see her friend, the masked boy, the cat, a hero. She sees a creature making a final stand.

“Chat!”

Their eyes meet in a second’s lull, a moment where their foes have been pushed just far enough away to allow them this. His eyes are acid and flame and they threaten to burn her like the sky above them burns. This is not the way she wants to remember these eyes. She wants to remember them warm and attentive and half closed in laughter.

She knows what he is about to say. She knows what he plans to do. Of course she does, they are two halves of the same whole. She had been about to do it herself.

She wants to plead with him, but with what time and on what basis. In this moment, she does not hold the authority or familiarity of Ladybug. She is just Marinette.

When she speaks her voice feels thick and slow. “Don’t,” she tells him.

He sucks in a breath, expression crumpling. But his eyes—they still burn.

Momentum catches up to them and Chat Noir’s attention is drawn away as he cracks the butt of his staff into someone’s skull. He says, “I’ll hold them off.”

Chat Noir is drawing blood; Marinette has never seen him hurt an akuma-victim like this. This means something—it spells the end. Chat Noir has lost hope, because he knows what his lady lost. He sees their doom spelt out in the beat of his own heart. Marinette hears it too.

But he will never know: it is Marinette. She is his lady and she is the one who ruined everything so catastrophically. She is the one who backed him into this corner, who forced him to the point of no return. It is Marinette who lost her Miraculous to Hawkmoth.

She does not deserve to be saved.

She feels Chloé shifting, gathering strength. She is pulling backwards, but Marinette refuses to budge.

“Chat Noir, please…”

He does not look at her. “Go!”

Without his eyes keeping contact with her own there is nothing to hold her still, nothing to force the air from her lungs. She can breathe and she can move and Chloé is pulling them back.

“Marinette, you idiot, you idiot,” she chants. “Move!”

She does as Chloé says.

Marinette scrabbles with Chloé, crawling between the legs of the mob. They stoop to grab at them, more larvae dropping around them, but Chat Noir is quick to cover. He bats them away with a skilled couple of swipes, but where he is guarding their escape, he has left himself open to attack. The mob grasp at his arms and back, and where he pulls away another fills the void to strike.

The mob is distracted—Chloé and Marinette make it out of the throng of bodies—but Marinette is too. She cannot help but stare at Chat Noir, caught all alone in the midst of a doomsday. What crisis has come that he and Ladybug have not faced together? He has been abandoned by his lady; Marinette cannot stand to know this will be his last thought.

She allows herself a lingering look, because she knows this might be it. This might be her only closure.

She watches Chat Noir’s back grow small, the narrow plain of his boyish shoulders vanishing into the akumatised hordes. The sleek leather of his suit stands out amongst the sea of faces. His staff is moving faster than she can track.

“Eyes on the road.” Chloe’s nails are pinching at her bicep as she drags her. “If you get me akumatised, I swear…”

One of Chloé’s heels are broken and she runs with a lurch, clinging on to Marinette for balance just as hard as Marinette holds her for the same. Ms Mendeleiev’s van is rumbling, beginning to move, anticipating their arrival but needing to leave as the mob notices Marinette and Chloé’s departure. The siding door is still held open and Max is leaning out with a hand for them to reach for. Manon is at his pant leg, gripping on to his side, and shrieking at Marinette like she is the one about to be caught by the crowd.

Marinette’s heart is beating so fast she thinks it will burst. They are hobbling more than they are running. They can barely keep pace with the van. Chat Noir’s distraction cannot keep the mob, in their hundreds, at bay. Marinette hears rapid footfall behind her and although she feels she is made more of pain than she is of flesh and bone, she pushes them through this final sprint.

She shoves Chloé forwards first, watching Max take hold of her arm and drag her into the van. Finger tips are brushing against Marinette’s neck, looking for purchase. They will not get her. Marinette seizes the side of the van and pulls. Her side burns; her arms feel like they might be yanked out of their sockets. Manon’s little hands are over hers, desperate but useless.

“Marinette!”

Nathaniel and Marc move Manon aside as she screams and replace her hands with their own. Marinette feels her feet leave the ground and suddenly she is in the arms of her schoolmates. The van is crowded with evacuees; Marinette lies squashed against Nathaniel and Marc, for a moment, just breathing.

But it is not over—she senses it will never be over now.

Hands appear where Marinette’s just were. The evacuees are screaming. Marinette gets up and holds herself at the open sliding door. There is an akumatised Parisian latched on, staring up at her. She watches its expression change—morph; like a mirror—until it is reflecting the same wide-eyed fear on Marinette’s own face.

“Help me,” it begs.

Marinette feels cold terror run through her. It was almost human—so close to capturing and projecting her own anxieties back at her that in any other scenario Marinette would have mistaken it for just that. A civilian in need.

But this is not a civilian. This is not a person. This is devilry.

Aurore is knocking at the partition wall between the back and front of the van. “Ms Mendeleiev!”

Their teacher calls back, “We good to go?”

“Drive!” Max says.

Ms Mendeleiev floors the gas and they go flying. The passengers yelp as they are jostled about. Marinette would have fallen from the van if not for Marc snagging her by the hem of her t-shirt.

Marinette looks down and there are still hands. The akuma-victim is dragged along, knees tearing against the road. It does not let go.

It has let its imitated expression fall away as it stares up at Marinette. Its cheeks bubble. Marinette sees pink caterpillars peeking out from between its lips. It looks like it is getting ready to spit.

“Get rid of it,” comes a cry from within the van.

Marinette hesitates for a moment, before bringing down her foot on its hand. Although it had gone numb some time ago, her own hand flashes with sympathetic pain. She watches the devil go tumbling away from the van, rolling to a stop before the rest of the mob. They do not pause to check on it but surge over and forwards, continuing their pursuit despite their growing distance.

Marinette looks out into the crowds, hoping to catch one last glimpse of her partner. But she sees nothing but the end of her world. Chat Noir is gone.

Marinette pulls the van’s sliding door closed, sealing them into semi-darkness. They sit without speaking. Marinette joins them, sliding down to the floor. She bows her head against her knees. Manon crawls close and curls into her side.

Ms Mendeleiev drives on, away from Paris and all they have ever known. Marinette sinks into the depths of her own mind. It is somewhere beyond fear and it is somewhere beyond despair, because she can no longer allow herself those. It is like hitting an internal bedrock and, while she is there, she can only think of one thing.

Hateful as it is; it is not her parents she thinks of in The Fall. Nor Tikki. Nor Alya. Nor Adrien. Nor Paris.

She thinks of Chat Noir and how she let him down.

I shout from pain, rage and anger

and I cry

carried by the crowd that pushes ahead

and dances a mad farandola

I'm carried away in the distance

I clench my fists, damning the crowd that steals from me

the man she had given me

and that I've never found again

— Édith Piaf, La Foule

[haliaiii]

Rewatching miraculous and decided to do some redesigns for fun :)

Also my self indulgent au where Kagami is a solo vigilante hero who shows up every now and then to save our dynamic duo in peril

[wolflover2426]

Just a thought but what would a Cat Walker but it’s Ladybug act or what facet of Marinette’s character will center on that?

I feel like Marinette has a healthy balance of herself as Ladybug and vice versa so I’m wondering just what facet of her character would bring life to create a Cat Walker version of a Ladybug hero.

[mochinek0]

Daminette December 2023: 25-Plain Clothes

Marinette sat on the hotel bed, easing her nerves.

'This is a simple mission; a test. Best outcome: we find ShadowMoth. Worst: Zero progress.'

Robin knocked on the door, startling her.

"How are you?" He questioned "Are you ready to leave?"

"Nervous." She answered with a sigh.

"Why? It's a simple mission, is it not?" he replied.

"It's my first mission, as myself. No one but Batman and Wonder Woman knows who I am." She called out.

"We can use an alias." Robin declared.

"Can't." Mari groaned, "I know people at the event. I was going to be here, one way or another."

"I take it that you are well known, then." Robin spoke.

"Yes and you?" Mari asked.

"Correct." he answered.

"Okay." Marinette said, before taking a deep breath.

Tikki shook her head a flew through the door, startling Robin. He quickly put his emotions back in order and glared at her. Tikki giggled.

'He reminds me of Plagg.'

"I am Tikki. I am the Kwami or Goddess of Creation." she spoke, "I am what makes the girl behind the door, Ladybug."

He nodded in response and looked back at the door.

"We will have somoene looking out for us in the shadows." he called out.

"Batman is here?" Ladybug asked.

"No, Superboy. Apparently, he saw your tiny companion here through a door once. His X-Ray vision works on her. Superman couldn't see her, at all." Robin declared, "I know his identity and he won't say anything, unless they have proper clearance. So far, that consist of you, me, Superboy, and Batman. We will have earpieces on and he will be able to communicate with us, if he notices anything."

"Meaning if ShadowMoth is in the crowd-" she stated.

"He should sense it." Robin answered, "If he tried to leave, he is capable of following him and giving us directions to his location."

Marinette walked out of the room, full of confidence and hope. Robin couldn't believe his eyes. Ladybug was a leader. She was strict. She reminded him of his parents, at times; dedicated. This girl in front of him didn't look deadly or commanding. She looked small and shy; she looked like an angel.

"You look.....beautiful." he spoke.

Mari smiled and tried to fight off her blush, "Thank you. How did the suit fit?"

"Um, well. Thank you for the suit." Robin replied, "Where did you get it?"

"I made it." she spoke, "I'm a fashion designer."

Damian looked down at his clothes. He hadn't appreciated them until that moment. He thought it had just been another suit. He looked back up before bowing to her.

"Damian Wayne." He announced.

She smiled back and curtsied, "Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

Marinette walked in on Damian's arm.

"I can see you both. I am still able to see Ladybug. I can see your earrings glowing and your little friend in your bag."

Mari gripped Damian's arm after hearing the voice speak

"Thank you, Superboy." Damian whispered, squeezing Marinette slightly, "He's on our side."

She just nodded. Soon, everyone crowded around them.

"I can see two other people with glowing items in attendance, aside from her."

Damian felt Marinette tense up again.

"Where?" Mari asked, "Who?"

"An older gentleman."

"Must be ShadowMoth." Damian inquired.

"The other?" Mari pressed.

"Our age."

Marinette bit her lip confused.

'Could Felix be here? No; Hawkmoth got the peacock miraculous back from him two years ago. That's why I used Kalki to get into the Justice League's headquarters in space.'

"Heads up. Incoming fast!"

"Hey, Marinette!" Adrien cried out, "I didn't expect you to have a date."

"Watch him."

Damian felt the tiny Ladybug grip his arm like her life depended on it, but on her face was plastered a smile.

"F-Felix?" Mari whispered.

"Uh, no." the blonde answered, "It's Adrien, Adrien Agreste. Did you forget about me?" 

"Why wouldn't my girlfriend have a date?" Damian demanded, moving his arm from to her waist to stabilize her better.

Marinette turned to him and smiled.

"His ring is glowing and he has a creature in his right breast pocket."

Marinette glanced at the familiar ring he wore throughout middle school. An image of it painted black with a neon print came to her mind.

'Adrien is Chat Noir!'

"There's something else. There's a....it looks like a feather inside of him. It looks like it branching out, like veins."

Marinette buckled, feeling faint.

"Mari!" Adrien shouted.

"Angel!" Damian cried out, catching her.

Adrien held her hand as Damian checked her over quickly.

"Are you okay?" Adrien asked.

"Do you think we can get some air?" Marinette questioned, "Still not use to these heels."

"Of course." Damian chuckled, "Did you remember to pack the bandages that Selina recommended?"

Marinette nodded, struggling to get to her feet. As she got up, she slipped the ring off of Adrien's finger, using her Guardian powers. Unfortunately for Adrien, Plagg was asleep and unable to warn him.

Once outside, Marinette burst into tears.

"Marinette?" Damian prodded, confused.

"Adrien is...was my partner." Marinette sobbed, showing him the ring.

"Why did you take it?" he questioned.

"The feather he saw." Mari declared.

"What about-"Damian began.

"He's a sentimonster! That's not the real Adrien and if it is.....who is to say he hasn't been helping Hawkmoth since the beginning?" she stated.

Marinette looked at the ring and placed it on her finger.

"Hey, Kid. What-" Plagg demanded, but once he saw Mari he changed his mind, "Where is he?"

"Did you know?" Marinette questioned.

"Know what?" Plagg asked, confused.

Tikki flew out of Marinette's bag, "Adrien is one of Duusu's creations."

Plagg's jaw dropped, "No!"

He floated down onto the Guardian's hand and sat down.

"You couldn't sense it?" Tikki asked.

"No." he answered shaking his head, "How big were the branches?"

"Large." answered Damian, "According to the half-alien who has x-ray vision and can see through people."

"It is possible that Adrien was never real." Tikki spoke, "For small times, it wouldn't be that much."

Tears poured down her cheeks. Adrien not being real opened up so many possibilities. She wiped her tears away.

"Bug?" Plagg questioned.

Marinette took a deep breath and reached into her bag. She quickly fixed her makeup and grabbed Damian's hand. The ring change from its once silver color to a dark metal with a large emerald.

"You are my partner for this mission." Mari declared, "It is only fitting that you now wear Plagg."

"Will he not notice?" Damian questioned.

"No." the Guardian answered, "The magic of the miraculous will keep him for recognizing it."

"Are you coming?" he asked.

"I need a moment." she whispered.

He nodded and walked back into the venue.

"Marinette?" Tikki whispered.

"I may have to kill Adrien." she answered.

"I have eyes on another."

Marinette stood up and walked back into the gala.

"Male, 40's. Maybe 50's. White suit and glasses."

Marinette looked around and spotted Gabriel Agreste.

She took a deep breath and asked, "Where is it?"

"Under his tie. It's red and white."

'Yep. That describes Gabriel Agreste, perfectly.'

Before she could make her way towards him, Adrien jumped out of the crowd, in front of her. From his eyes, she could tell he was panicking.

"Mari, hey, did you see me drop my ring?" He pressed.

"Ring?" Marinette asked.

"The one I always wear. The silver one!" Adrien stated.

"No." she answered, "I'm sorry. I didn't notice it. We can go back to where we were and see if It fell off. Maybe, someone kicked it under a table or something?"

Adrien nodded and followed her towards where they had been. He looked through the crowd.

"Where's your boyfriend?" he asked.

"Talking with other people about his father's business." Mari shrugged.

"Oh." he answered, "So, uh, how long have you guys been a thing?"

"Oooh, maybe he likes you. Robin, you need to step you're game up. Someone is trying to steal Ladybug from you."

'Yeah, right.'

"Be silent. This isn't a commentary show."

'Thank you, Robin.'

"Two years." Marinette answered, quickly.

"Nice save. Using how long you have been coming to the League, I'm assuming."

"Oh, that's nice." Adrien replied.

"Incoming."

"Miss Dupain-Cheng." Gabriel spoke.

"Hello, Mr. Agreste." Marinette smiled back.

"I couldn't help but notice that you came in with young Damian Wayne." he declared.

Mari answered back, "Yes. He is my date for tonight's event. We figured since we were both coming, why not announce our relationship?"

"I see." he spoke, not noticing his son wilt at her answer, "I was hoping you would come work for Gabriel. I understand Audrey still has an invitation open for you, as well."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Agreste, but Damian has offered me my own studio." She announced, "Not an internship. He will be paying for the building and I will take care of the rest. My boyfriend has confidence in my work."

"Well, Miss Dupain-Cheng, good luck to you." Gabriel stated, "Will your studio be here in Paris?"

"No. I'll be leaving Paris at the end of the week to Gotham." Marinette declared.

Adrien quickly turned to her in shock.

"You're leaving?" the model exclaimed, to which she nodded, "Why haven't you said anything?"

"Adrien." Gabriel growled.

"I've been so busy and my apartment can't really contain my designs and equipment." Mari answered, "I've been working out of my place and have been so focused on my commissions."

Damian created a distraction by throwing five silver platters at the giant windows, as if they were shuriken. People began to scream when all the windows shattered at once. Many believed it was the work of an akuma and started to scream. Many began to push people out of the way to get towards a door, faster. Marinette took notice of Gabriel leaving during the middle of the chaos, leaving Adrien behind. Quickly, an akuma appeared out of one of the scared party-goers.

"I have him."

Adrien began to look around the room, after he lost sight of Marinette. He spotted her again, hoping to see her transform into his Lady.

'She had to of taken the ring!'

Adrien noticed bits of the ceiling beginning to crumble above her head. He watched through the chaos as the ceiling began to collapse overhead.

'Transform!'

Damian grabbed her arm and pulled her to his chest, as he dodged the debris. Marinette sobbed into his chest. Damian picked her up and ran out of the building with her. Watching his friend cry in the arms of her lover, he realized it wasn't her. She wasn't Ladybug.

'Shit! Where the fuck is my ring?'

Marinette jumped out of Damian's arms, as he moved them to the side of the building.

"You're positive you have eyes on him?" Marinette questioned, getting into Ladybug mode.

"Yes."

"Spots on." Mari spoke.

"Claws out." Damian whispered.

"Can you creep up on him and knock him out?" Ladybug asked.

Damian smiled, evily, "I was trained in stealth."

"Do it." she replied, "I'll deal with the akuma."

He nodded and followed Signal's directions. There stood Gabriel Agreste in another room of the building, transformed as Shadowmoth. Damian quietly snuck up on him and used one of the techniques his mother had taught him to temporarily paralyze someone. Shadowmoth was caught off guard as he collapsed to the floor.

"My apologies, Shadowmoth," a new cat like figure spoke, taking the brooches off of him, "but the hunt is over. I have acquired them, Ladybug."

Ladybug quickly destroyed the akuma and announced, "Shadowmoth has been defeated. This plan has been in the making for along time."

Paris began to cheer in happiness.

With help from the Batfam, they were able to clear out certain evidence out of Agreste Manor. They placed Emilie and Natalie into a hospital. Gabriel was still paralyzed on his right side; the doctors believed he had a stroke. Adrien was temporarily staying at the Bourgeois hotel. Gabriel lay in the hospital bed upset. At the foot of his bed was Ladybug and Chat Noir's stealthy replacement.

"Your days are over." he growled, "I'll come back!"

"The miraculous will be out of Paris, tonight." Ladybug replied.

"You-" he hissed.

"Do you realize I have to kill your son, Adrien?" She asked, causing him to freeze, "I know he's a sentimonster. The question is was he always a sentimonster or is the real one hidden away like your wife?"

"My wife wanted a child!" Gabriel declared, "We couldn't have one and that was all she wanted. I jus wanted her to watch him grow up."

"Adrien is sucking the life out of her." The Guardian stated, "It's one or the other; not both."

Gabriel paled at the news.

"Will you kill her son, who she did everything for, just to bring her back? Or will you give him the life she wanted for him?" Ladybug questioned, "She will remember everything."

"We will find them again." Gabriel stated.

Ladybug sighed, "No, you won't. I've asked the Justice League to take them off planet and onto another. They could bury it on the center of Pluto or send it to another planet that Earth could never reach. No one will ever find them again."

Hawkmoth sagged in defeat.

"Adrien doesn't know." he spoke, "He had nothing to do with this."

"Then, let him live his own life, like your wife would have wanted." The Guardian whispered, "Spend time with him. The Justice League will be keeping an eye on you and your movements from now on."

Ladybug walked up to Adrien Agreste.

"Ladybug, I had no idea-" he began.

"Chat, I'm sorry." she whispered.

"Huh?" the model stammered, "Did you steal away from Plagg? You replaced me?"

"I had too." She answered.

"When did you find out?" Adrien asked, "Did you-"

"You know we've been getting help from the Justice League." Ladybug spoke, "At one point I had to recharge and someone was able to sense Tkiki. They came along hoping to sense ShadowMoth's kwamis. I had to take him from you; they sensed you were in danger."

"I don't understand!" he cried out.

She sighed, "Your father was Hawkmoth."

"No!" Adrien exclaimed, "We ruled him out!"

"He got smart. He threw us off his trail." Ladybug continued, "He won't go to jail, but he will be under Justice League surveillance. They will know every keystroke on his computer and be able to listen to every phone call. You can still have your father; be thankful you are not losing him too."

Adrien sagged in defeat, "What happened? Did he really have a stoke?"

"The temporary chat snuck up behind him and knocked him out. We think realizing he lost the miraculous caused the stroke." Ladybug declared.

"Why?" Adrien asked, "Why did he-"

"Your mother is very ill." She admitted, "He wanted to heal her."

"That's it?" he shouted, "All these years? All of Paris' pain and suffering, the nightmares.....it was for my mother?"

"I'm sorry." The Guardian apologized.

"Can I know who you are?" Adrien questioned, "You promised."

"I wish I could, but you're too close to him." Ladybug answered, causing him to pale, "Plagg is in good hands for now. I will be giving up my mantle today. I won't even remember you; I don't want to cause you anymore pain. Can you really handle seeing me everyday when I won't be able to remember my own name?"

Adrien's eyes began to water.

"I wish you a good life, Chat." She smiled, "Find love. Be happy. Your father can no longer design. Gabriel will likely fall so you won't have to model anymore."

He smiled through his tears.

"Do what makes you happy." Ladybug declared, before leaving.

"Are you sure that was a wise thing to do?" Damian questioned.

Marinette nodded, "He deserves to be happy. The Justice League will have him under heavy surveillance and if he starts to follow in his father's footsteps, I'll use the Peacock to undo him."

"I thought I was meant for the Kwami of Destruction." Damian smirked.

"Oh, shut up." Mari scoffed.

TAGLIST: @maribat-calendar-events @animeweebgirl@a-star-with-a-human-name@meme991001@vixen-uchiha@abrx2002@alysrose-starchild@fandom-trapped-03@dood-space@moonlightstar64@saltymiraculer@marveldcedits20@09shell-sea09@icerosecrystal@animegirlweeb@insane-fangirl-of-everything@blueblossombliss@nickristus-dreamer@megawhitleycalderonpaganus@missmadwoman@meira-3919@princessdaisysolosyourfaves@blep-23@fangirlingfanatic@darkhinauniverse@ravenr22@im-a-satanic-ritual@ravennm84@bianca-hooks123@a-slytherinish-gryffindor@starling218

[imthepunchlord]

So, even being flexible with genetics, it is so weird to me that they gave Marinette blue eyes but they don't give her a relative that has blue eyes.

All the Dupains (that we know of so far) have different shades of green eyes. Though Gina is hard to see with her eyes so dark, but they are green.

I don't know if genetically if blue and green eyes are close and that could be a reason; but it is just baffling to me that Marinette clearly wasn't really factored in when designing her extended family and offering where the eye color could've come from.

I really do wish that they stuck to Marinette having dark gray eyes as she did initially in some of her concepts.

And that when she was Ladybug, her eyes would turn blue cause Tikki has blue eyes, and we do see that a human's eye color can change to match the kwami's.

And it could've been a good way to hide her identity without needing to change herself up too much as blue eyes would suggested she's a full European instead of French Chinese.

[starrysharks]

i am the cattt just chillin outt but in the night she's all i think aboutttt

[kronehaze]

your drawings of the PV characters so soo pretty!

im curious to what your take on PV marinette/briegette would look like if they used the fox miraculous?

I was trying to go for tails the fox ish vibes but I think I strayed from tails a bit too much

Rest of the gang with swapped miraculous bonus (bee cameo is by @arcadeology)

[iindigoeyed]

lil marinette sketch :] i wanted to finish it… but it looks better this way

[ninadove]

Oh! The misery! No one wrote fic about this very niche French cartoon I obsessed over as a seven-year-old

[staab]

Expectation vs reality PROM edition!!

[familyagrestefanblog]

I've tried so many times making whole in depth posts about this, but I never get it done properly. So I'll just keep it very brief for now:

Marinette giving out every miraculous at the end of S5, so making a team of 16 additional miraculous holders now as full time heros she says she wants to help coming into their own as their leader and guardian, is the most hilarious dark red sign I've ever seen in this show

Marinette can barely handle Chat Noir being an individual with his own pov, actual emotions she has to acknowledge in her leadership, agency that isn't just catering to her and having human rights attached to his body (at least that she got better at in s5, although it's questionable how much that was influenced by her literally having no other choice in s5 but to treat him better. I guess s6 will put that into perspective)

and in s5 both Chat and Alya were two halves of ONE PARTNER bc Chat had to accept that he isn't allowed to exist as civilian in Ladybug's leadership, all while both Alya and Chat had to basically take care of her as their main job.

What makes Marinette THINK she can handle 16 new miraculous holders who act as individuals with existing LIVES, and not just being her chosen power vessels who can't act on their own?

Just the thought of it honestly makes me laugh because nothing in Canon implies Marinette's leadership can actually handle heros doing their own thing as individuals. She will have a meltdown when any of them act on their own as heros of Paris in any greater way.

Imagine Vesperia being put on spot by being near a robbery and her using her venom on a civilian person (the robber) and then Cerise has the police go up against her and Ladybug as the team leader for abuse of power?

Imagine Pigella using her powers on people who are having a personal fight and then her getting in trouble because she revealed the private wish of someone to everyone around them.

Imagine Kim and Max training alone by Ladybug's order, and Max making portals so Kim can improve his time to get certain objects from different places, and that resulting in people being pissed at the heros breaking and entering their private homes and taking their stuff however they please as "training"

Look, I don't wanna be mean but I give her a god damn WEEK before she starts giving teammates (100% Kim for example) Chat Noir's rag doll treatment and starting to yell and get angry again bc they're doing something she personally doesn't like at an inconvenient time, or something she gets in trouble for as their leader.

Before this the temp heros has the luxury of only having been ask to do exactly what Ladybug said as her minions and power vessels, but now that they are individuals?

Good gosh, it's gonna be a disaster. Cerise is gonna have the time of her life using the team and city again her lol

[monpetitchattriste]

Panic attacks in paradise

Chapter 2

“Well…what I mean is that she might feel that way. I wouldn’t know cause I am not her. Just from the pictures on The ladyblog, it looks like she could possibly have feelings for you. I guess what I am trying to say is you should just talk to her about it.”  “But if I ask her in person, she will most likely run away.” He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration.  “Text her.” “Text her? I am not going to confess my feelings to her over text. She deserves more than that.”  “That’s not what I mean. Text her, as in try and get to know her more. You only see her a few times a week, most of which are battles. How well do you actually know her? By texting, you can get to know her without risking her identity. Plus, people tend to be more open in text.”

[mochinek0]

Daminette December 2023:30-Save Some for Me

Many people of the Justice League were summoned for a mission. Some were hiding in the shadows, others were stuck as civilians. Everything was going fine in the mission until Damian Wayne was suddenly thrown into building. That was the day he learned his two sunshine would go to hell for him.

Damian lay aginst the building. His vision was foggy, at best.

'Concussion. Labored breathing; likely a broken rib or two.'

He hadn't noticed people had started running away and were screaming. He hadn't even noticed Jon and Marinette calling his name until they got to his side.

'Hearing impairment.'

"Don't touch him!" Jon shouted, "He has some broken bones and some bad bruising."

"Concussion. Hearing impairment. Labored breathing." Damian whispered out, "Tired."

" Stay awake. I'll get a medic as fast as I can." Jon remarked, "I'm staying with you. I'll protect you from any more damage."

'That's good. His body can shield me from anymore debris or if there's any bullets.'

Damian felt wet drops fall on him.

'Rain?'

It wasn't until he heard the sob that he realized it was Marinette.

"Angel. I will be fine." he spoke.

He saw her hand turn into a fist and drop her precious earrings into her purse. She shoved it into Jon's arm.

"Marinette?" Jon asked.

He saw Marinette place a small ring on her hand.

"Claws out." she snarled.

Before his eyes, his angel looked like a small version of Selina in her CatWoman outfit. Her hair had turned jet black and was tied in a long braid down to her ankles. Her suit was now black. She was wearing thigh high heels with a green sash wrapped around her waist. Her hands had turned claws. She no wore a black domino mask the looked like his own robin mask and upon her head, were a pair of cat ear, trimmed with green. Then, she was gone.

"You might want to make sure Angel doesn’t kill anyone." Damian spoke, before passing out with a smile.

Jon turned to see Marinette lunging at people and blood splattering everywhere. It reminded him of watching his best friend train with his swords.

'Oh, shit! There's two of them!'

Jon quickly rushed away and grabbed ahold of her, locking her arms. She still managed to move with him holding her.

'I was wrong. She's scarier!'

The Bats quickly rounded everyone up as the rest of the Justice League avoided Ladybug, now turned Cat. She was hissing and clawing, trying to get away from Superboy. He had scratches on him from holding her back and was bleeding. Superman quickly rushed over and knocked her out. Superboy huffed and handed her over to Batman.

"Your son's girlfriend is just as deadly as he is." he huffed.

Plagg released himself from the ring.

"Do you have any cheese?" he questioned.

"What?" replied Superman.

"Another alien?" asked Green Lantern.

"Rude." Plagg answered, "I am the God of Destruction."

"Yep. That fits the bill." Red Hood responded, "Demon Spawn dating a person of destruction."

"Oh, you have it all wrong." Plagg declared "She only used me because she was pissed and you should be grateful, she did."

"She killed ten people." Batman spoke.

The kwami shrugged, "Could have been worse."

"How?" asked Nightwing.

"She could have been weilding her usual, my other half: Tikki, the Goddess of Creation. She created the universe." Plagg explained, enthusiastically, "When she gets pissed, she creates weapons of mass destruction. Instead of ten people, it could have been half the planet."

All the heroes looked at Marinette unconscious in Batman's arms.

"Who's the bad one now?" Plagg smirked, "At least she didn't used Kalki. Could have just teleported them over a volcano or a pit of death."

"So, do you have cheese?" Plagg asked again.

Jon was quick to warn the medical team about Damian's injuries and the extent of them, as he was placed on a stretcher.

"Ah, Loverboy." Plagg declared.

The Kwami of Destruction tapped on the downed Robin and let the green aura wash over him.

"Is that-?" Tim shouted.

"My magic." Plagg stated, absorbing it, "Seems he has a lot of it in him. Not as goo as cheese, but it helps. I'll talk to the bug and she can give my ring to him, for awhile. I should be able to absorb the rest. Same with Helmet Head."

"Really?" questioned Red Hood."

Plagg nodded, "Yep."

"Are you perhaps talking about the Lazarus Pits magic?" Batman asked.

"I don’t know what you people call it now, but that is our magic." Plagg explained, "Someone wished for it so we made it. It's why she works so hard to makes sure it doesn’t happen."

Red Hood shook his head, "They're a perfect match."

"Huh?" asked Wonder Woman.

"Demon Spawn and his 'Angel'. We all know if Batsy, here, wasn't around, he'd be leaving Gotham painted red. Hid girlfriend is the same way, if he gets hurt. You can't honestly tell me if she got hurt, he'd go back to being an assassin." he explained.

The Justice League loked between the unconcious couple.

"I say it's Batman's problem, now." Green Lantern stated, "His kid and future daughter-in-law."

TAGLIST: @maribat-calendar-events@animeweebgirl@a-star-with-a-human-name@meme991001@vixen-uchiha@abrx2002@alysrose-starchild@fandom-trapped-03@dood-space@moonlightstar64@saltymiraculer@marveldcedits20@09shell-sea09@icerosecrystal@animegirlweeb@insane-fangirl-of-everything@blueblossombliss@nickristus-dreamer@megawhitleycalderonpaganus@missmadwoman@meira-3919@princessdaisysolosyourfaves@blep-23@fangirlingfanatic@darkhinauniverse@ravenr22@im-a-satanic-ritual@ravennm84@bianca-hooks123@a-slytherinish-gryffindor@starling218

[halfahelix]

déjà vu

[verfound]

FIC: "Stop It" (MLB; Lukanette; LBSC Lukanette Month 2024)

@lovebugs-and-snakecharmers is doing a Lukanette Month for September 2024, and we all just kinda tossed some prompts in the disco to compile a list?  We ended up with 71 prompts, so I decided I’d roll some dice to pick a prompt, do a twenty minute (ish, bc we all know sometimes they run away from me) sprint, and try to get some short fics out this month?

Read on Ao3

Prompt 43: “Why do I feel like you enjoy getting yourself into danger?”

Marinette tried for her best smile.  A flirty smile, if you would – just like Alya had taught her.

The superhero standing across from her didn’t look like he was buying it.

That…wasn’t really surprising, she supposed.  Alya might firmly live by flirt your way out of anything, but Marinette always felt less flirty and more…catastrophic chicken.  Y.  Especially around him.

“Really, M. Beetle,” she tried to say, hoping the giggle in her voice didn’t sound too manic, “we have got to stop meeting this way.”

Scarlet Beetle heaved a weary, longsuffering sigh and dropped his head into his palm.  His fingers started massaging his temples, his red-tipped bangs scrunching adorably with the gesture.  Part of her wanted to bat his hand away and sink her own hands in those locks instead – if she could currently move her own hands, that is.  They looked…

…no!  Bad Marinette!  He was the savior of Paris what are you thinking?!

“Why do I feel like you enjoy getting yourself into danger?” he finally asked, looking up at her with a defeated smile.  He crossed the short distance between them and reached up, yanking on the yoyo strings that were currently holding her upside-down in front of him.  She gave a startled yelp as her bindings gave way and gravity did what it did best, but the freefall lasted only a moment.  Scarlet Beetle grunted as he caught her.  She was proud to say she only flailed a little as her arms wrapped around his neck, clinging tight to keep herself from hitting the ground.

…not that he’d let her.  He was too good like that: as often as she’d found herself in sticky, akuma-related situations, he had never let her get hurt.

“…I was just trying to help,” she insisted once she had caught her breath.  She glanced up at him with a pout, and his smile was…less annoyed.

“I need you to help less and hide more,” he said.  He hesitated a moment, and then she would swear his hand caressed her side.  She definitely didn’t hold him a little tighter at that.  She didn’t.  “I need you safe, Marinette.”

“Alya –” she started, but he shook his head.

“I have enough trouble keeping Alya on the sidelines,” he said.  “She’s reckless enough, and I don’t even like her most days.  Definitely not enough for all the gray hair she’s giving me.”

“Is that why you dye it?” she teased, hoping she sounded flirty again as she flicked at his bangs.  He rolled his eyes and squeezed where he was holding her.

“My point, Marinette, is that I can’t be worrying about you as well.  Watching you run into these fights after her like this, completely unprotected…” he said.  “It…distracts me.  You know it does.”

“…but you like me?” she asked, a slight smile curling her lips.  He sucked in a breath, and she would swear his cheeks darkened under the mask.  “M. Beetle, my boyfriend will get jealous.”

“…you don’t have a boyfriend,” he said, an odd note to his voice.  She bit her lip and looked away, her own face flushing at his assertion.

“Not…not yet, no,” she confessed.  “I keep hoping he asks, though.”

“Marinette…” he sighed, looking away.  An explosion sounded in the distance, and his sister shouted for him over their comms.  He winced, and Marinette pressed her fingers below his ear and frowned up at him.  “Paris needs me.  The city…the city comes first.  You know that.”

She was twisting in his arms, laying her head on his shoulder as her arms tightened around his neck.  He sucked in another breath, frozen to the spot.

“I would hope I would understand that,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.  “Just like I would hope someone else would understand that I did.  If…if that was a reason someone might be hesitating.  The thinking I wouldn’t understand.  Because I do.  I –”

It was a bad idea.

Very unprofessional.

Tikki would have Words for him later, he was sure.

But it was too easy to turn his head, for his mouth to find hers and cut her off.  And it wasn’t the kiss she deserved – the one he’d been dreaming of giving her since the moment they’d met – but it would have to do.  For now.  She gripped him a little tighter, and he held her a little closer, and then Cheshire Cat was shouting in his ear again and he had to go.  He pulled away, panting, and leaned his forehead on hers.

“We’ll talk,” he said.  “Later.  We…damn it, Marinette.”

“Go,” she said, her fingers feather-light against his jaw.  He turned his head, kissing the pads of her fingertips, and she smiled.  “I’ll try to stay out of the way.”

“Don’t try, melody,” he whispered, his voice tight.  “Just do it, all right?  If Alya gets hurt, she gets hurt – I’ll fix it later, anyway.  Stop making reckless decisions just because your best friend does.  My poor heart can’t take it.”

“Think what my poor heart does knowing it’s you in the mask,” she tutted.  “I hate watching you get flung around the city like that.”

“Marinette…” he laughed, a little desperately.  She squirmed again until he put her down, but she pecked his lips one last time before patting his shoulders.

“Go,” she said.  “I’ll…can you come by the bakery later?  I’ll be waiting on my balcony.  We’ll talk?”

“We’ll talk,” he agreed, nodding.  He took a step back, readying his yoyo.  He could already feel Tikki’s displeasure echoing through their bond, but he couldn’t stop the stupid smile on his face.  “Now stay out of danger – I mean it!”

[kasienda]

For the scene requests: umbrella scene?? 🥺

Origins umbrella scene!!!

Anon! Thank you for this ask! I was very excited! It took me a few days to get ahold of a tiny umbrella. Hope its worth the wait!