Bleached White
This is a gift to @shadowlordscorpio, who won my 1k follower art/writing giveaway, and asked for more Chat Blanc related things. They gave me a prompt to work from, and this is what I came up with.
This oneshot is related to my Floofy-eared Chat Blanc AU, (Which also includes Velvet Soft and Take My Hand) and should be considered the first installment in the series of oneshots.
~000~
Lightning split the sky, the brief flicker of light spilling across an unconscious woman.
It was the rolling crackle of thunder off in the distance that roused Marinette into consciousness.
The musty stench of age and neglect stung her nose before her eyes could even begin adjusting to the dim light. But she knew right away that she wasn't someplace familiar.
Marinette recognized the plush texture of expensive blankets and a soft bed, but the space around her felt empty, her bleary eyes failing to pick out any shapes in the darkness. No furniture, just empty floor and walls.
Lightning spilled light into the room again cutting a terrifying silhouette against the windows. At first she thought it was Chat Noir hunched over, but there was something different. The edges of his figure looked pale... bleached like bone.
Then everything fell into darkness again but she could still make out his shape now that she knew he was there.
"Chat...?" Marinette tried to sit up and felt her head surge with dizzying pain. "Where am I?" She tried to recall memories, anything to help make sense of her current surroundings.
At the sound of her voice the Chat-like figure turned to look at her. But his eyes were all wrong. Blazing magenta cut through the darkness instead of the pleasant toxic green she was accustomed to.
Marinette saw him pull something away from his mouth and hiss, white fangs glinting dangerously, and suddenly the fetid stench of rotting cheese overpowered the general aroma of dust and neglect.
Rotting cheese. Camembert.
Pain like a pounding hammer rippled through the back of her head, followed by memories. Memories of Chat's disappearance, a worried Ladybug searching for him in the dead of night for weeks, sightings and rumors of a bleached white Chat seen all across Paris. Marinette cleaning out her cheese reserves when Chat failed to visit her for two months straight. Angrily taking the spoiled cheese to the garbage can behind her parent's bakery... the smell had been so overpowering.
Those magenta eyes suddenly brought her back. Back to that alley, back to the creature who ambushed her in the darkness. So scared she stumbled and lost her footing... everything after was blackness.
Marinette reached up and touched the spot on the back of her head and hissed when pain lanced from a tender lump there.
"Chat..." she began again, in her silence he seemed to have returned to scarfing the foul smelling thing in his hands. "Where have you been?"
Magenta eyes fixed on her again, their demonic glow studying her from across the room.
A warm buzzing crawled from the inside of Marinette's jacket to the back of her collar.
"Something isn't right Marinette," Tikki whispered from the back of her neck. "That is Chat. I know because I still feel Plagg. But... he's different. His aura is tainted."
The Chat figure finished licking the rotten smelling substance from his fingers and pitched a bag off to the side. The dim light of the window illuminated just enough for Marinette to recognize it. It was the bag the spoiled cheese had been in when she went to toss it.
"You ate all that spoiled cheese? But you hate cheese." She'd purchased it for his Kwami to eat and recharge whenever he came by to visit her. Chat Noir himself refused to even smell the stuff.
Chat moved from his spot by the window, slinking on all fours towards her, those demonic eyes never blinking.
A sudden wave of fear crawled up her spine making her limbs feel heavy like lead and her blood run cold.
He moved closer, reaching the edge of the bed and continuing to close in on her.
Her breath hitched when Chat crawled over the blankets until he was practically on top of her. His breathing was audible as if he were drawing sharp breaths through his nose, and it took him burying his nose in her hair to realize he was smelling her.
The temptation to slug him was almost unbearable.
This waaay overstepped their boundaries as mere friends, and it was even pushing it a little when he did it to Ladybug. Which she was not right now.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Marinette~," he suddenly purred. But this wasn't the cheerful greeting she was accustomed to; his tone sounded sick and low, almost sinister. "My little friend from the bakery. You stink of... bread."
Well he wasn't wrong. She still lived with her parents even though she was twenty. To make ends meet she worked mornings in the bakery—which would definitely contribute to her smelling like baked goods. Her afternoons were spent running her online custom clothing store.
He pulled away from her and, despite the implication that she smelled bad, licked his lips like he was starving. There was a change in his expression, a sense of lucidity in his eyes that hadn't been there before.
"What happened to you?" She pressed again more firmly.
"Why?" He sneered, finally moving away from her to settle back on his heels, crouched on the edge of the bed. "Are you afraid of me? Everyone else is." He bared his teeth for emphasis and she took a sharp inhale when light reflected off rows of sharp fangs.
"Why are you all white?"
Chat suddenly let out a mocking laugh, "What's the matter? Do you only take your Chats the way you take your coffee?"
"Quit evading all my questions!"
Chat sniffed and stood up from the bed, "If I tell you, you might sic Ladybug after me. I know you're friends with that Ladyblogger after all."
"Hawkmoth akumatized you." She'd had the inkling suspicion the moment she woke up and found him in bleached white leather, but had hoped it wasn't true. His aversion to Ladybug only confirmed her suspicion.
"Au contraire, I akumatized myself."
"And what difference does that make?"
He glared down his nose, a superior expression etched along his features. "It means I am not that pathetic man's pawn."
As if Hawkmoth had been listening in (and perhaps he was) the glowing outline of a moth burned to life in front of Chat's eyes, and he suddenly screamed.
Marinette watched in horror as Chat hit the ground, and began writhing along the floor. She felt her heart clench at his cries of agony, and even when she clapped her hands over her ears they seemed to penetrate right through her.
Chat's claws gouged deep lacerations into the wooden floors, ripping up bits of splinters, while his boots kicked up dirt and dust. He writhed and struggled on the ground as if someone were torturing him, back arching, tail lashing, teeth gnashing, his pupils blown wide, but focused on absolutely nothing. The moth pattern in front of his face burned even brighter with a cruel intensity.
"No!" Chat snarled into the floor, dragging his canines over the boards. "Nononono—!" His frantic denial dissolved into an unintelligible scream of pain, and he rolled along the ground akin to a contortionist, limbs wildly swinging and slashing anything within reach of his claws. (Which given the barren state of the room, fortunately happened to be more floor.)
Marinette clamped her eyes shut, trying to shut out the horrible image before her. She couldn't watch this. She couldn't watch her partner suffer like this, akumatized or not.
"Tikki what do I do? He needs help!"
The Kwami pressed hot paws to the back of her neck, but it was far from comforting. "I don't know Marinette. Hawkmoth appears to be hurting him, trying to make him submit. But Chat's fighting it."
"And we cant stop this?" Marinette implored.
"He either has to give in, or fight passed it until Hawkmoth gives up."
The torture scene before them felt as though it played out for hours, despite only going on for a few minutes. The sound of Chat's agony echoed through the building and Marinette's head, until she was sure she'd be hearing his screams in her sleep. His claws were digging against the wood so savagely it was a wonder he didn't rip a whole in the floor and fall through.
"Look Marinette!" Tikki cried, slapping her paw against her chosen's neck to get her attention.
Marinette opened her eyes to find the glowing butterfly pattern flickering in strength. It blinked like an old neon light before flickering out completely, leaving Chat to pant against the floor in exhaustion.
"Perhaps it's just as taxing on Hawkmoth to inflict pain on his victims like that," Tikki pondered next to her ear.
With the absence of the glowing butterfly, the pain appeared to recede, and Chat's body went limp. His breaths were labored, rattling in and out of his lungs with effort, and saliva bubbled from the corner of his mouth.
He looked like a wounded animal.
Marinette hesitated for only a moment before surging forward and dropping to his side.
"Chat! Are you alright?" She placed a hand on his shoulder, but he didn't respond. "Oh god, please be alright." Her fingers traced over his ribs, before touching his side.
A shudder wracked his body.
Chat began wheezing like something was lodged in his throat. At first Marinette thought he was choking, until realizing it was akin to a cat coughing up a hairball. Seconds later he coughed an akuma onto the floor amid a puddle of saliva and iridescent purple butterfly scales.
The akuma attempted to take flight, clearly disoriented and flailing in the puddle of drool.
"Tikki, I'm not transformed!"
The Kwami leapt into action, diving at the butterfly before it could escape.
"You owe me for this, Marinette," she grumbled, lifting the slimy akuma to her mouth before adding, "Big time."
Marinette watched as her Kwami ate the akuma. Her mouth curled into a look of horror and disgust.
"I'm purifying it," Tikki explained in a matter-of-fact tone. "I can do that."
A moment later she burped out a completely white butterfly. They both watched it flutter towards the nearest exit.
Kwami and Chosen returned their attention to Chat to find he had passed out on the floor. His suit still shown as white as the moon.
"I don't understand," started Marinette, "Shouldn't that have fixed him?"
Tikki moved to hover next to his face, and placed a paw against his cheek. "Not if he's eaten more than just the one. Don't you think it's odd that we've hardly seen any akumas at all these past two months?"
"You son-of-a-bi—atch of cookies," Marinette swore at the unconscious man.
"Look on the bright side, Marinette. At least we've finally found him. And look how cute he is!" Tikki made a circle and grabbed the tip of Chat's ear between her paws. "He's got big fluffy ears." She giggled and let go before zooming down near his backside and lifting something long and furry off the floor. "And a big soft kitty tail!"
Marinette scooted closer, and pulled Chat's head into her lap for closer inspection.
Sure enough, right where his human ears should have been were two large and floofy cat-like ears. Complete with a couple of piercings on the left one.
"Just because he's cute now doesn't mean I'm going to forgive the hell he's put me through." She pushed the long blonde bangs away from his forehead, noting how his hair was damp with sweat. "I've been worried sick about you," she scolded his unconscious face.
"But look at that face." Tikki returned to tap him gently on the nose. "He looks so helpless."
Marinette cocked her head to the side, Maybe a little. In his unconscious state his features had smoothed out and she could see the gentleness of Chat Noir again. "So how do we make him cough up the rest of the akumas?"
Tikki moved down his chest, illuminating parts of him with the pink glow from her own body, She stopped to touch one of his over-sized lapels and giggled. "I suppose we'll just have to try trial-and-error."
I'll be posting more oneshots and stories for this AU. Let me know if you enjoyed this and would like to see more.
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RACE YOU TO THE END
(Page 2)
RACE YOU TO THE END.
Zap fluid
Tattooied
Cape
Escapalar
Just come round
[]
Feliceline
Certitude
(Page 3)
I was not over there and I am home, to think of lying
Writing.
All is bare.
Here no change or clean for weeks, ashamed
Of my death drinking, no bush beating futilise meeting
To save life, when the lollipop Ludy is in more of a
Perils a swinger than the shore.
I stand up for the lost and the lonely.
Listen to not be lonely when
Lost, it can comfort, and it
Can provide love lost.
But not console in.
I feel sick. Everyone is thinking
Why does this bloke not just fuck off.
Like that treacle moose
Banger stranger
Hanging on tight
With the compose
Closed.
Doing it again
I must want to go.
I'm tired.
Piss-take
Masquerade.
In the night there's a star
Spaces few and far
And shining in the light.
Lean across the sky.
My demon.
The exile
Why be so superficial,
Ask how human unbecomes
Kings to see trees
Branch-leaf, clouds
All against togetherness
Why where I want now.
Uni-disconcern.
Fuck Fuck (sake) so easily ignored
If moodily read even this (excuse arrogant GH)
Elexus flunk grab town
And haunt demonic rumours
Above dusty old worlds
Listen to me all toward
A life that I can
(Page 4)
Afford.
A suck shock tight cock sick every night.
(Page 5)
Mincy fincey partwork and Mrs Rante can I go in your ship or)
lit a roll ran out of fags, got some killer so timeless litters the sense
or says courage is asking what am I doing here. Cushion, plate, lighter, fuel,
crackles in Gaza lesser morgue the radio queen again submit to have to make
critical list of the unwell and rubbish straight in at once. Mungo, Mary, Midge
more to confused be and more sensitive to refuse to the purpose of a man is to
love his woman and the purpose ofr a woman is to love her man. Agreeable
countenance is illustrious disasters in decision.
This year of suspenders, a garter, used up protection to be this
repulsed by day and night must have taken some slavish design. You are
not a cause, it causes you and are have the wreckage zoomed across the waves
I miss it but am aware of the foul consequence.
In their faces, voices, a caution of a tale I tell young pretty as ever be
lipstick, heels, Mick oni and heroin. rqbble with the rabble. Jim'll fix it
and he did twenty one and gone to be a celebrity in deadland auntie certain
suspects Alexkiss cross end round and round and aint royalty by lay or andalooseya
When care abundance greed vantage stealer, other things that life'll
kill ya.
No bones about its drug addict is the admiral compass conflict the original
all day sunday echoes, why are we not here with them. Dont even start
me on Monday in the case of inconsequence you find that guilt in a delay
a negligée one say one two many looks too true you toot, chop chop!
secret agent codename I am on story's of buses gloves cutlass tunnels disbelief
what was more was a glimpse of January 2010 its laast week, the premise
delerious. Then I always find out they dont understand about. Yet there is one
that can and it three times shade the Monday's mood. From anywhere in
the world sky, sea, earth fast as real.
that inception had a just thing for memo wolfe death
is in when you can't get out and you can fight I don't know what
happens if you give up in that place. Give up to get there Fuck that I
cant make a report. So everyone fuck off, death guaranteed.
(Page 6)
A suck shock tight cock sick every night.
How much.
I really wonder. For.
you and there's me.
Chicoola
Ngichlela ngo tando
Niacula Kelengi lungu
Nthando luyaboga
Jikele Kulombluba wethu
Left at that now
shall I cash in on my memories
I decided to a long time ago. ago
that is why
I have lived in a style
arty nemo starts from how I
where I, what I, it and so,
and then all the more, unbrace, trance
Tracy, then after the dance has gone.
Accordian go gringo, hombre, Bruv, Geez,
Thingy, An all that, if you are
Cark from Kryptonyour name sir cant even
even. greese fifteen, cobra car, the
blind eveal to fits of secret nits must be
another sight.
Fate Bastard, orphan or vicious chance, lapse cruise.
The use of alcohol and drugs
or the bond of lovebound for the coast
of the last moment if you can realise. When
that was
Grand and the deathspear is
someaside!
Tapdance to this struggle
lift from that desperate to the beauty
of course its ageless
I am in disgrace.
Still live with truth
No breaks in the sequence, I want
to accept my apologies
Nuck For you!
(Page 8)
What a widow handgun, see it repeat giveback. To charity that blaze
is only for teen, age is a ripped up early photograph of
Charles Pierre, guess I guess, Decisions and Banished bloodshot
eyes in fights and then what smoking and ravy swallow that
cheap old gravy. Fight for what you don't know about, don't
happen no more. Its a knockout.
No lost come there- where is that if you are in,
sight do trades in, panic and solving convertthat art that ain't it.
Grease the rope stake therfor who needs rejection,
this life is straight up gone, where
no-one knows.
The howl, evil flowers athe edge
A phony pinch on charles that said ham.sick of then, that.Confusion is the wisdom
we generally offer children to study.
You fucking fucker horrid arseholes.someone can have a say.
I'm well into my friend changing them.
Try to show off with a galloping Gee-Whizz.A musical say, say,
is interest cool, warm or
boiling hot, I dare to say that I do not
give up, on friends, loves, legends
scupper the timbre, class is out, in
Broke and scuppered and bucketing.
Under and in.
In a cruise age
glue, blew
it hurt the one armed
Bandit. Toby Chang.
Must be listening to
Someone watching Resevoir Dogs
No disrespect,
but what a fucking lot of shoot
this piece of shit and cough
up some green
vocabulary.
While I mean wayany rector
you cheap steal of a catapilla
what! slugs and slugs
The purpose of a man is to love his woman
And the purpose of a woman is to love her man
[IAM DYEING]
(Page 9)
I have made the grievous mistake
of thought that blazoned paper
is my answer.
What - keep control, do not
Fuck yourself, even that you become
sure its my fault. Come be, what
is the sunrise, the moon fades,
The seas do not rise no
speck smashes this earth into
not being cool.
The odds on that.
If you did not understand
a speck of dust, A incalculable
as has the size never been thought.
At more millions of miles per second,
lets just say it was half. Tell me, I told you
They said I can't help it.
Just by chance
They went to the neighbourhood dance
to be all young and lady
lary is ugly, used, old.
Lary is funny to avoid
as long as you do.
Assault Pike, giraffe.
\Cohorts, dolce vita
Downtown screwed on a bench
piping, people passing
Blinding.
Cancell the too nervous assassin
Ten Silk Cut on the way back.
Although
Lucky Strike
might
do the trick.
(Page 10)
A fight with death.
The first that I remember, I will describe as
Being paralysed .. in a dark room a floor down from where
I should be calling for help and [moirne] cowing for
A long time. I was scared angry and would have given
Anything that I did not have for someone to lift me
Out of there. More than a day in intense discomfort and
Despair – why could I not get out of there.
WORLD NEWS new years eve 2010 – The murder of a
Beautiful young girl early twenties. Strangled and dumped.
Against that nothing really abates my, and sure I,
Evidence of disbelieve, then more killing and rape
Around the world, floods, and sadness. But it’s
Alright they played games with balls without balls.
Oh how fucking sick am I. *
Cannot one take the hint –
Novice – The trajectory of this existence.
FUCKED.
Well and true. Could be any day now. We are
A race about to cross the line. Chequered flag
And past.
Why wait.
No excuses
Forgiveness
Un.
Calm as far too far and far too later
Than warned. Hamas up.
Black magic while if you can even
Rival a home of monstrous
Symbols. I’ll watch that
Filthy canal and waited. Gonna
Be cathartic. Cure abandoned by
It is my weight and Peter my
Mine how it justices. You
Did bring catastrophe. And I
Do not know fucking fuck cunting
Why. Eccentric Rakcer silence
Changes [burne]. You will be aware
Of the tidal magic. You careless
Chucked and kalashnikoved my world.
If I am mad kill me.
Suicidal unhappiness desperate yes OK and misfortune then since ever cat as trophy
kerchief
(Page 11)
I KONFRONTED THE ACCUSED WITH MY GAZE AGAINST ALL THE WORLD WILD MANIAC.
OLD GIT, UNFIT.
And very well
At illness
COUNTER
(drawing)
(Page 12)
CRAP CHAPTER TALKING SHIT
TO ALWE and of all the emotions more bold than have ever before
fought like fuck to hold on and for my life as close as the
dead of night when you wake up alone silence scary
how to feel as nearest and sick and ask your destruction
to take hold and answer bleak grim and cruelly shake
eyes on a ceiling nowhere to look. Cold no money
police addition regret cripple. Wait. A while hurt will
be fresh being prolific adulterer if hurt with
others in contortion.hurt with this time that one
Always a push toward the courage I want.
To show away is still here and was always
anyhow.
Nonsense is there. In every window street
sky person screen communication, words the whole
shebang.
If it were not for one other. And he
knows. I could be that I am not sure.
Unsure could come enough times to be so.
To be some authority or disappointment. My failures
are described as spectacular.. Thing is I like that kind of idiot.
Aspire to Olympianic hero. set
sail.Tell a beautiful story. music to
live to.
Or sit hunched, abusing poison corrupt and pollute every part of me and the time
I strangle - continue to demonstrate with
expertise being an arsehole.
The swagger staggering of the non-one-hit.
blunder.
"But he's really talented" - fuck off.
or we can shoot acid, crack heroin
have pills valium ecstasy any fucking thing there is,
drink a couple of bottles of cheap vodka
But, smoke some weed and chill.
A smashing day in, in your your flea infested
forget not to eat anything. Fortnight of
that and if the magic carpet carpet can't come.
This time will be that and that's that.
you fucking moron, moron me not any other moron.
Brief description as I am vain. Maloderous
skeletal schock of distress. Continual vomiting - flem
machine. That which I consider sane and joining in
daily or night time actions - discussions etc,
others, in fact everyone I have a contact with
considers repulsive anti-social and go as far
as to mention a kind of insanity that as
far as to be concerned could be the secret
agents of one or another afterlife.
Confirmed
when claims of previous acts so peculiar and
that I have no memory or hint of recognition
of their look name or outlandish tales. All
leads me to stick to my layout of events
Years are a confusion. And I can defend
my slight lapses of memory to age and
very hard and stressful work.
I can remember a couple of things, but live
in the moment, then the next one. Why care
making effort to memorise when you are getting on with it?
(Page 13)
Lets get at it from the pink panter pantin pink
My krum[] Im dark I be like
Wight. [] Bachs harmonys if I
Am mistaken the nature of Nienval Here
Together ever aware surier is that puer
At you + AVE, T, Geronimo fact old
Compassion I met romance I got love on me looking
out how can [] to be lured is all. Without
call imagined I love and be loved I laugh I
[]
Is to have all fear disappear the worry
The shape of the world and to be that
Hard cumid like no not love to know who
Woman is because then I could really be
The wall spreed brokos would put thain
Shirt on it. No exchange can bargain
In every gang in misunderstanding of the word
Blame mistrust
And they assumed me that I
Am a multimillionaire but they were that
Empty armchair.
Still, but that’s all aside you could try
To convince me that I have a Saturday
Night fever and the man with a golden gun is a kaleidoscope of
Gens looking at me was violin
Music.
I must amount a charge
Cut my path the say shit
Fluid.
Lattrapid yet reputed, for
Skullduggery, not lit but well
Bugger me
The eraze the age of
Me.
Curiosity
Egyptian in a gunpowder
What’s to say
Then was ever
And no invention.
(Page 14)
And I have to stay alive. The most simple,
Can even enjoy. For me this is a day to day I don’t
Want to. I’m not to write here about. I’m afraid
Sad .. to be called Frank or Ernie or just a drunk
Heroin crackhead. Delight hard open wicket there,
Balls remain. I gonna run. Or I ran. The rent
Run risk rough ripped rhode Londron, relic, rash
Rubbish.
I am glad to say I am as ill today as ever
Has before. Quite accomplished solutions intrude the
Bloodstream. Crooks and nanny aside I would not
Abide to fee fy falsify in certain terms, there is not
Motivation or need, my reputation a guarantee. Worth
Both make and believe.
And icy reflection patterns this room
In a late early new year blank laziness for
Uniform.
The where I have not the, exactly
Is what I cannot say. I would sleep fortune.
A life away .. Dishonesty weakly needless
Declare my passion the destiny. Then the glorious
And victory erased from language. Imprisonragbe
My sure staff wags crackling.
Discountry is dissinisterly
Endured it’s nare the creep creeping
Upon me, tired so tired. It begins to engage
Agree. Would be so easy. No more of that
Or of then and though and more so no more
Of this.
Discomfort I adore, sickness I make certain
Sure.
Accidents the luxurious claim of
Innocents, fact follow the accidentee with a brief
Study of past actions, the ban of acts or act
In not too far future will I doubt fail to unveil
That word accident came by stumble spill ink of
Most likely a greed to gain advantage of
Someones misfortune. Insurance a very chance relies
On accidentalance.
To why limit snap grot and furniture
Of nonsense. To waste time to fulfil a space to
Be over so a despond errant in my way.
That I will so called exist
There afar Gulliver, Crusoe, Hyde and Oliver I
Do not fear to relive my beautiful friends.
Catechism the word got rhythm, and you, make you and it
Rhymes with prison.
I can feel a mission coming into vision
Like dream for a religion I was living I was
Dying and soul I will revive the life
And try to describe as well as I can when
Fighting to survive to stay alive.
That’s later
I going to Gunter Grove – coming.
(another page)
I ain´t gonna make it. A reprise
Knew I was seirxing act dizguise. It was
Already no realise. Come that time that
art my life. The chat I-chat in mind
is it cause I could not replicate
The lives of the money makers
fame equalcors - so I had
to make my own original sound
That made me as the song says
Bohemian trinketá.
A required taste.
Drugs and boozer - loser
Refuse.
A guide on how to fail
And fuck the ass out
of how to lose
Because its real
Will be thirty pence
and second hand
Then used to wipe
The Ass Baboon.
What if it went the other way
And no more reborn; acknowledged
As past and future G. Yeah
Boy that rack everest need
A machine the size of God.
All ThEM BLOOD Red Painted
Wolfcitys. MAYhem is PEACE
AND education becomes
what it needs to be
Emotion, respect, love
Learning Lyric´fuckin´ly
Are you gettin me
Not from no ghetto
And thats not how I speak
All school should be to
a Killer beat.
The gift of posture
very thgm, energy.
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