#ch: alix

[dailymlgifs]

BABY BUNNYX TRANSFORMATION

[fragmentedink]

𝚆𝙸𝙿 𝙰𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚜: Silver Threaded Fates

Between Walls of Stone

I have Made my Home

Tag List: @incandescent-creativity @idreamonpaper @solangelo3088 @halstudies @livvywrites @autumnruby @achaotichuman

[strawberrychevalier]

byleth is pretty and i like her

[xfindingtrouble]

ϟ for vaeron, from alix!

She touches him too gently. It's all he can think of when Alix's fingertips grace gnarled knuckles. it was rare that he untapped his hands, usually keeping them beneath gloves & bandages & whatever he could use to soften the damage of each of his blows. his whole life, he had trained to make his hands into weapons. They were a tool wielded by his family, by himself & now by Alix.His love for his hands was relative to what they could accomplish. for himself or others.

It was strange to have them treated so carefully, in either of her hands as she observed the marred flesh. it makes him feel strangely appreciated, though the feeling is fleeting. In the next moment he's grabbed her hand, bit her forearm & taken a horrible step back. It feels as though he is watching the reaction from the outside looking in, desperately wishing he could make anything else happen in that moment. He is not sure why he does it & the regret that settles in his chest is immediate.

It wasn't like he didn't enjoy the gentle embrace of someone looking at him, knowing him, seeing him. In fact, he liked it quite a bit. If not for the stiffness of every muscle in his back, his shoulders may have fell with the weight of her kindness. But to be seen was to be hated for what he was. A killer who's preferred weapon was scarred hands, littered with proof of a bloody & unpleasant past. He tastes iron & shame.

" I'm sorry, " he's not sure why he thinks it means something & he's not sure why his voice is so small. he's not much sure of anything these days. heroism wasn't his forte, it was strange to serve with others for a greater good outside of his family... but Alix was easy to follow. She was a reminder of the waning good left in the world. He steadies his breath & his vision, already missing the ghost of an embrace he feels on his skin. Golden gaze darts from the ground beneath her feet to an impending treeline. It wouldn't be difficult to run, if he wanted... But he was past that now, " I'm not sure why I did that. "

[justrandomfanfictionskh]

We Should have Stayed in Gotham ch 4

(Almost every Maribat fic I read has the akuma class going to Gotham. But tell me which is more likely, a class touring the city of crime, or a class touring the city of lights? So here it is, the Daminette fic that only I asked for, where Gotham goes to Paris, and the poor students have to grapple with the fact that they have competition for the most dangerous city in the world. I wonder what will happen?) (a/n: Warning dark Conversation. Don't be taken off guard.)

ao3 Beginning Previous

Despite what his brothers might say, Damian did not hate fun. He just hated their idiotic brand of fun that usually found them needing Bruce and the WE PR team to bail them out of jail while Barbara laughed at them from the other side of the bars. (He would never forgive Todd from stopping him from freeing the Zoo Animals. They would have gotten away with it if he had just followed orders.) Still, he planned to have fun on this trip, especially at the Louvre. He had always wanted to see the inside of this place, the art, the history, maybe even correct some of the factual errors. A scavenger hunt would not interfere with that, even if it was tedious and pointless.

But then Alix and Kathryn had skated by waving a half-completed work sheet shouting, “You’re falling behind!” Apparently, they had gotten a head start by going through her father’s office. Mendeleiev just groaned as manic grins spread across multiple students’ faces, including Marinette’s.

 And so it was, that before any of the teachers could stop them, the Parisians had grabbed their Gothamite’s hand and took off running through the halls of the most famous museum in the world. Damian didn’t know how to react as Marinette pulled him through wing after wing, her hand holding his in a vice grip, until they stopped in the Egyptian hall. He was surprised to see that she wasn’t panting, even though she had to be running at full speed in order to stay ahead of him.

Instead she just skidded to a stop and began to say in very broken German, “Ok…the first…question…is about…”

Damian cleared his throat, and said in French “You want to win this, right?” Marinette cocked her head but nodded. “Then I think it will be best if we stick to our fluent languages. We can help each other after we finish demolishing your insane classmates.”

Marinette grinned and then said in English, “Very well, but what about your classmates. Won’t they be a problem?”

Damian glanced at his work sheet and raised an eyebrow. “I doubt they will be much help. After all I’m not even sure what this first question means. Is it some sort of riddle?”

Marinette laughed and pulled him deeper into the wing. “Sabrina and your class representative, no you call it president, made this to encourage us to ask questions about each other,” she explained, “‘The scroll that awoke the Pharaoh, and revealed the secret of the Bug,’ is a reference to the akuma Pharaoh. He was a researcher here at the Louver whose theory on resurrection magic was dismissed, so he was akumatized in order to prove it worked. He tried to sacrifice Alya to the god Ra.”

Damian squashed a quip about how that would not have been the worst thing, instead settling on the more pressing question, “And the secret of the Bug?”

Marinette stopped in front of an old papyrus scroll, her smile fond and almost nostalgic as she looked at it. She pointed at the image of a woman with a yoyo in a spotted robe fighting the Pharaoh. “It was during this fight that it was revealed that Ladybug was over five thousand years old.”

Damian nodded as he looked at the scroll with consideration. “I thought the SpotsOn blog said that the title of Ladybug was a mantle passed down.”

“It is,” Marinette said as she scribbled on her work sheet. “But it was this scroll that set the question in motion. Since then scholars have been scouring the artifacts looking for people who could have a Miraculous Holder.”

“So why is it on our work sheet?” Damian asked.

And Marinette once more smiled as if at a fond memory. “I was with Alya when she found this. I got turned into one of the hundred mummies meant to aid in the sacrifice. Believe it or not we were actually good friends back then.”

Damian opened his mouth to say something, but Marinette clapped her hands and spun towards him with a smile. “Alright, the first one was for Paris, the second one should be for Gotham. Alix and Kathryn, have a good head start, but if we run, and take a few short cuts I know, then we should be able to catch up and beat them!”

Damian stifled a grin with a smirk. Her competitive spirit was infectious, and it pulled at his own instincts to push them to victory. And he was so tempted to give into it. He was the Son of the Bat after all, there was no way they could lose. But Grayson was always warning him that he overdid it, so he fought the urge to string trip wire everywhere and looked down at his sheet. His smirk turning devilish. “Are there any bat artifacts in the Chinese Wing?”

Marinette nodded briskly, “Tang Dynasty, this way!” And with that she had grabbed his hand and was once again pulling him through the Louvre at a devastating pace. And as the game went on, Damian stopped denying the genuine and bright smile that was slowly growing on his lips. But even as he gave into his more competitive instincts, he noticed a few interesting details about the Parisians.

For example, the Museum had obviously prepared for them, because they had roped off designated running lanes so the students could go wild without breaking anything or disrupting the other guests. And as they zoomed past, while the tourists stared in shock, the employees and locals laughed and cheered them on. It was strange considering that in Gotham they would have had security called on them ages ago.

Another thing was that all the Parisians were strangely athletic. Even the ones who should have been out of breath at the first sprint, vaulted and laughed as if it was nothing. At the pace he and Marinette were keeping, he expected that she would have to slow down after the first three questions. Instead, she only seemed to gain speed as she pulled him after her in a rush of adrenaline. And she never slowed down. Even when her classmate, the tall Chinese one, barreled toward them with his partner on his back, Marinette never slowed. She just pulled Damian down so that they slid down the slick floor, as the boy vaulted over them with ease.

Leaping to her feet, Marinette continued to pull Damian along even as her peer shouted, “I’m going to get you Mari!”

“In you dreams Kim!” she shouted. She beamed with pure joy, and Damian felt his own adrenaline muddling his senses, because he found himself mirroring her.

“What was that?” He demanded when they reached the Enlightenment Room.

“Hm?” Marinette said even as she searched the artifacts, “Oh, have you ever played the floor is lava?”

Damian grimaced against the memory. Grayson had thought it was a good idea to yell that phrase in the middle of Titan’s Tower, resulting in Jon scooping him up and hovering over the floor. Everyone had laughed as Damian thrashed like a kitten in the bath. It was one of his more embarrassing memories. “Once or twice,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Have you ever played it with real lava?”

Damian cocked his head at the question then nodded his head in understanding, “Lava Boy, he was a level 10 right?”

“You read the list,” Marinette said with a smug smile.

“Tt,” Damian said has he scanned for their opponents. “Of course, I did, I’m not an imbecile.  But what does this have to do with the fact that your entire class seems to be experts in parkour?”

“Not the entire class,” Marinette mused as she jotted down the answer. “Just those who know to pay attention in gym. Parkour became a curriculum requirement after Lava Boy. Every Parisian school teaches it as apart of our Physical Education. Or as we like to call it, ‘Running from Akumas 101.’”

Damian nodded his understanding. It was smart. It made him wonder why Gotham schools didn’t teach self-defense. But then again, maybe they did. He never really paid attention in class. But he had no time to ponder, because Marinette was grabbing his hand again and pulling him to the next artifact.

They ran into Alix and Kathryn twice, and saw that they were catching up, as the pair debated if they should be going towards Modern Art, or Ancient Greece. Which was when Damian noticed something else about Marinette, she was smart. When she had competed with him in languages, he had known that she had intelligence. But now she barely had too look at the clues to know the item they were talking about. And they really were some of the strangest clues, for example, “This Queen’s spear is lauded as Luck’s greatest hand.”

“That could be anything!” Damian exclaimed.      

“Queen Hippolyta’s spear was donated by Wonder Woman back in 1983, as a gift to her adopted city,” Marinette stated and then dashed off.

“Wait how did you know that?” Damian cried as he chased her.

“Hippolyta was the first named Ladybug, although technically she was the second holder. The first was the Oracle of Khepri, although her name was lost to time. We saw her scroll like ten minutes ago.”

Damian just shook his head and followed her without question. And that was another strange thing that he noticed. He didn’t mind following this girl around. Under normal circumstances, he would have demanded the lead. But Marinette just pulled him along as if her leadership was the most natural thing in the world. And as of yet, Damian could not begrudge her for it. And so it was in less time than he thought possible, they were racing back to the teachers with Alix and Kathryn hot on their heels and gaining. Then Marinette pulled out a bag of marbles and scattered them on the floor.

“Hey!” Alix yelled as the two girls were forced to slow down, “That’s cheating!”

“No rule against it!” Marinette shouted back as Damian laughed.

Mlle. Mendeleiev was pinching her nose as the pair skidded to a stop in front of her and handed her their completed work sheets. “I hope,” she said in her stern voice, “That the two of you got to talk at least once during that…escapade?”

“Yes Mlle. Mendeleiev,” Marinette said with her signature bright smile growing even as Damian sunk back into his signature scowl.

“Oh, and what did you learn about each other,” Bustier said with her signature plastered smile and too sweet voice.

“That Damian knows a lot about bats but not a lot about bugs.”

Damian couldn’t help the amused snort, even as the teachers rolled their eyes and took their sheets. But it was one of the Gotham teachers, Miss. Faustus who said, “You finished three hours early. Why don’t you two go back through the museum slower this time? Or perhaps spend time at the museum’s café?”

The two nodded their assent and then waited for Alix and Kathryn to turn in their sheet. “Well,” Marinette said, beaming so brightly, Damian was sure he was going to go blind. “We won!”

“You cheated!” Alix cried in mock annoyance as she skated up to them.

“Tt,” Damian said, “You were the ones with a head start, not to mention you were on skates. If anything, you were the ones that cheated, and yet we still were victorious. I do not know if that proves the depths of your ineptitude or the height of our excellence, but either way, you cannot argue with the results.”

Kathryn face palmed, as Alix stared at him in shock. Suddenly Damian was very aware that offending the wrong person in this city could result in a villain chasing him down. But he refused to back down as he tilted his chin to the girl, daring her to question him. Instead, Alix just turned to Marinette who seemed completely unfazed by his attitude.

At her friend’s questioning look, Marinette smiled gently. “Imagine if Kagami and Chloe were one person, and male. That’s him,” she said jutting her thumb at Damian. He furrowed his brow at the comparison, but faced Alix undaunted all the same.

She however just said “Oh,” as if that made perfect sense and then studied him more critically. Then her face split into the widest, most mischievous grin, Damian had ever seen (and he lived with Jason). A little nervous he took a step back even as Alix leaned forward and said, “We kill Lila!”

“Alix, no!” Marinette cried.

“Alix, yes!” Alix cried grabbing Damian’s shoulders before he could even begin to process what was happening as she said in a hissing voice, “Come! We have murder to plan!”

“No murder!” Marinette cried, even as Damian threw her hands off of him.

“First,” he said coldly, “Never touch me again. Second, I assume you have a strategy?”

Alix cackled and led him to the café even as Marinette screamed in frustration.

---------------------------------------

“So,” Kathryn said once they were all seated at the Museum’s outdoor café, “Who is this Lila and why are we trying to kill her?”

Damian remained silent as he watched the Parisians. They had only ordered drinks, because apparently the best bakery in Paris was catering their “Getting to Know You Party” later. So he sipped his as he watched Marinette tense, and Alix huff in frustration. It seemed, that now her adrenaline from the game was spent, the roller blading menace was ready to be serious. But it was Marinette who began the story.

“Lila,” she said simply, “Is a compulsive liar in our class. The only way to ensure that she didn’t akumatize anyone from Gotham was to pair her with the worst French speaker in your class, because she doesn’t know a lick of English no matter what she might claim.”

“When she first came here,” Alix said anger dripping from her every word, “She would tell all of these crazy stories about the places she’s been, and the celebrities she’s met. Of course, none of us actually believed her. We actually personally know a lot of the celebrities she likes to name drop so we always knew she was lying. We thought it was just some sort of game she liked to play, so we entertained her. It wasn’t doing any harm.”

“I never liked the game,” Marinette said as she stirred her coffee. “So I asked her to stop, and she threatened me. It was the only time she’s ever been completely honest.”

Alix took a deep calming breath, an action which Damian was quickly learning to associate with deep negative emotions from the Parisians. “That’s when her lies became a little less obvious,” she said, “She started sneaking subtler lies in with her obvious ones, slowly turning the class against Marinette. Started framing her for stealing, cheating, and bullying. Things like that.”

“She almost got me expelled,” Marinette said into her cup. And Damian couldn’t stop the shock from spreading across his face.

“Are you saying that your teachers believed her?” Damian demanded. He had only known this girl for an hour and a half, but already he felt that her being anything other than a model student was just preposterous.

But Marinette didn’t seem to register his outrage as she just shrugged and said, “The principle is more worried about funding and press than justice,” she said, “And I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but Mlle. Bustier is a bit naive. Mlle. Mendeleiev is great, and she doesn’t let Lila get away with anything. But Mlle. Bustier…”

“That woman needs her license revoked,” Alix said in a huff, “And she probably would have by now if it wasn’t for Hawkmoth.”

“So?” Kathryn said leaning forward, “What happened?”

“Adrien,” Marinette said with a sigh of exhaustion, “Another classmate. Apparently, he talked to her, made a deal with her to back off. He told me about it as if it was this grand gesture on his part. But basically, it boils down to, he lets her do whatever she wants as long as she doesn’t directly target me.” Marinette rolled her eyes, “His heart's in the right place, but his arrows don’t always hit their marks if you know what I mean.” The Gothamites nodded and then gestured for the girls to continue.

“So anyway,” Alix said, “Later, Lila comes forward and admits that she lied. Claims she has a mental disorder that forces her to lie. Only, that night Marinette goes home and does a crap-ton of research on mental illnesses and lying and guess what?”

“There’s no such thing,” Damian said with a sneer.

Marinette just shook her head, “Compulsive lying is a symptom of many different illnesses, mainly OCD and psychopathy. But neither force the individual to lie. The person is always conscious of what they are doing, and can chose differently given that they are actively working towards their mental health.”

“And when Marinette presented her research,” Alix said, “The class basically split in two. The enablers who think the best way to help Lila is to humor her. And the intelligent people, who are just sick and tired of her crap.”

“Me, Chloe, Sabrina, Alix, and Juleka are the most outspoken members of the Intelligent,” Marinette explained. “Alya, Rose, and Mylene are the most outspoken of the Enablers. Everyone else falls on a sliding scale in between. But of course, none of this would even be a problem it is wasn’t for Hawkmoth.”

“Yeah,” Alix said sipping her coffee, “Hawkmoth has everybody thrown out of whack. I mean how do you in good conscious call someone out for being an idiot, when they’re enough of an idiot to let that akumatize them.”

“Next thing you know,” Marinette said, “You're running through the city with a horribly dressed flying fox demon on your tail.”

Both girls groaned and sipped their drinks, as Damian exchanged a look with Kathryn. Finally, Damian asked the question that had been plaguing him since the moment he had heard the name Hawkmoth, “What about the Justice League? Why hasn’t anyone called them in?”

“Screw the League,” a harsh voice called out, and the party turned to see Chloe and Sabrina with Alice and Will following behind.

“Chloe,” Marinette said instantly brighter, “You’re done early. I thought you would be dragging your feet in there.”

“Chloe helped me make the scavenger hunt so she can’t participate,” Sabrina said sliding into the chair beside Marinette. “So, we decided to do a walking tour with our partners instead.”

Everyone then introduced themselves, with Damian being introduced to Chloe last. They stared at each other with narrowed eyes before huffing simultaneously and sipping their drinks. The rest of the group giggled at that before Alice said, “What do you mean, ‘screw the League?’ I know some of them are blowhards, but they do have some powerful magic users. They can help.”

Chloe sniffed derisively, but the rest of the Parisians became somber. They looked to Chloe almost as if asking for her permission before she nodded. Then Marinette cleared her throat and said,

“It was three years ago, at the beginning of this…mess. At first all of the akumas were level 1-4s. Powerful and scary but not dangerous. No casualties, and they always had limited goals. It was very rare for them to effect more than ten people. Then…then we got our first level eight, Dark Cupid.”

“I saw him in my research,” Damian said stiffly, “I couldn’t understand why he was put so high, all of the other level eights had a death count in the high thousands, but his wasn’t even in the high hundreds.”

Sabrina nodded emphatically, her face contorted with pain, “Yes. The akumas are categorized by the damage they do. Which means that the higher akumas are rated by their death count. 5 is 1-1,000. 6 is 1,000-10,000. 7 is 10,000-1 million. 8 is 1 million-10 million. 9 is 10 million to 1 billion. and 10 is anything high than a billion.”

“But there are other kinds of damage that rank just as high as death,” Marinette said as she reached over to grip Chloe’s hand which was starting to shake. “When those akumas happen on a wide scale, they are usually ranked higher.”

“And Dark Cupid was one of those?” Kathryn asked.

“I read about him too,” Alice said leaning forward. “There weren’t any fight videos of him on the blog, but it said that he made people feel the opposite of their true emotions. What does that even mean?”

The girls took a deep breath and looked to Chloe again. She just nodded as she stared numbly into her coffee. It was Alix who spoke, “Dark Cupid was a boy whose Valentine humiliated him. So he made people feel the opposite of their true emotions. Love turned to hate. Hate turned to love.”

“I don’t see the problem,” Damian said, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Oh!” Will cried, horror etched over his face. “Oh, that…that’s awful!”

“What?” Kathryn demanded.

Marinette sighed and looked them in the eyes. There was something hard and cold in her gaze, and it seeped into her voice as she said, “Imagine the person you love the most. The person you trust the most, parent, sibling, partner, spouse, being struck with a black arrow and then turning against you. They are consumed with a burning obsessive hatred for you and everything else they love. What do you think would happen?”

Damian paled at the thought. He could imagine it. He didn’t want to, but he could see it happening. His family sitting down to dinner, suddenly struck from behind…and then turning on him. It was a horrible image and he wanted to forget he ever saw it, but Marinette was not done.

“Now, imagine the person you hate. You’re worst enemy, and the same thing happens to them. Except now, with love. Or perhaps more accurately…lust. You’re enemy filled with an obsessive drive to ‘love’ you, just as your loved ones are filled with an obsessive drive to hate you. What do you think happens then?”

Damian was suddenly very glad that he had not eaten anything, because he was going to throw up. The images that Marinette was painting for them. They were horrible. They were gruesome, and disgusting on so many levels. And…and they had lived through that. He looked up and saw it. All four of these girls had faced that. Spouses turning on their partners. Parents turning on their children. Friends turning on their friends. All on a day when they were supposed to be celebrating their love and trust. And then to add their enemies into the mix…

“Only 136 dead,” Sabrina said solemnly, “But over three million reports of assault and battery, and over ten thousand reported rapes, and sexual assaults. And those were just the people who came forward.”

“We called the Justice League,” Chloe said as a single tear fell down her quivering jaw. “We broke their website begging for help, once the Miraculous Cure passed through. But they never answered.”

“Three more akumas were created because of that,” Marinette said squeezing Chloe’s hand as Sabrina wrapped her arms around her. “Eventually Ladybug gave a press release saying she got in contact with an International member, but she didn’t say whom. Here,” Marinette pulled up a video on YouTube and showed it to them. “You can watch that later. It basically says that miraculous matters are miraculous matters, and the Justice League will not be coming unless it’s a level 11 akuma.”

“Level 11?” Kathryn squeaked.

“Yeah,” Alix said with an amused huff, “Otherwise known as the ‘How in God’s Name are You Still Alive!’ Protocol.”

“If either Ladybug, or Chat Noir ever lose their Miraculous to Hawkmoth. Then the other is to retreat and go into hiding, while every citizen still alive in Paris spams the Justice Leagues number until someone shows up,” Marinette said with a small smile. “It hasn’t happened yet, but we’ll be prepared if it does.”

“Were you?” Alice looked at the shaking Chloe, her voice hesitant and soft. “I’m sorry but you told me that you used to have a lot of enemies. So…were you…um…”

Chloe sniffed and straightened, she was as rigid as a bored, but her chin was up and her jaw was set. Her eyes had not lost their fire as she scoffed and said, “Kwami no, no one touched me during Dark Cupid. I was the bitch who caused the whole thing.”

The Gothamites blinked. “What?” Damian demanded.

“You heard me,” Chloe said firmly squeezing Marinette’s hand. “Dark Cupid. The most emotionally scaring akuma aside from Sand Boy. I caused him. I was the dumb bitch who humiliated the boy and made Valentines day banned in Paris! It was my fault.”

“Chloe—” Sabrina began, but the heiress silenced her by leaning forward and growling,

“I caused more akumas, and suffering in this city, then Joker has probably done in a year. Everyday I wake up knowing that I am probably the most despicable being on the planet. But you know what? Everyday I wake up and decide to change that. It will never be enough. I will never undo the damage I did to Paris. But damn it, I’m trying! And I’m not alone.

“This is Paris. If you haven’t been an akuma, you’ve caused one, and no one is immune. Not even angels who are too good for this world like, Sabrina and Marinette heaven help them! So everyday we wake up knowing that we are villains! But every day we wake up and we swear we are going to do better. We make amends and we try. We’re all monsters, but we all have one enemy, and that’s the idiot who thinks he can put chains on monsters and not get bit!”

Chloe was seething now. Her teeth bared. Her eye wide. But she was still in control, and she stared them all down with the deadly force of a lioness. It quelled any arguments, pinning the Gothamites to there seats. As she roughly wiped the tears from her eyes, she declared,

“So yeah, screw the Justice League. As far as I’m concerned, they can all go and suck it! This is Paris, and we clean up our own messes. Besides even if they did show up, there’s nothing they can do. Ladybug is right, this is a Miraculous problem to be solved by Miraculous Holders.”

“Besides,” Sabrina said in a far gentler tone, “Do any of you really want to see and akumatized Superman? Or Batman?”

Everyone shivered at the thought, even Damian. He then drew in on himself as he thought about everything they had said. Lila. Hawkmoth. Dark Cupid. Chloe. The Justice League. Not all of his questions were answered, not by a long shot. But then he remembered the scavenger hunt. The pure joy radiating off of the Paris Class as they ran through the Museum. The genuine laughter of the employees at seeing their antics. The bright smiles of the civilians as they walked with their heads held high down the streets. They had been through hell, like Gotham never had. But where Gothamites scurried and scowled they…smiled.

Even now as he looked up to study the four girls before them, they were smiling. Bright, genuine, pure smiles. They laughed as they pulled the Gothamites out of their horror. They cheered as more of their friends joined them from within the museum. It was strange. It was confounding, confusing, and impossible for Damian to comprehend. It was…miraculous.

And so Damian whispered to himself in his heart, "I swear on mantle as Robin, and on my title as the Son of the Bat, and the Demon's Heir, I will do everything in my power to defeat Hawkmoth."

Next   

@night-ngale @annastasha @ev-cupcake @hammalammadamdam @laydeekrayzee @itsemmylie @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks  @doglover82 @raven-ette @atiredartistandacat

[liebgotts-lovergirl]

Fire On Fire: Chapter 28

(Ch. 27) ... (Ch. 1)

II Gallery II Symbol Guide II

Summary: “If we could light up the room with pain, we’d be such a glorious fire.” - Ada Limon

WARNINGS: Graphic Violence, Death, Espionage, Survivor's Guilt, the usual.

A/N: I'm so sorry it's taken me fucking FOREVER to get this out, y'all! A LOT has been going on in these past months (the demise of a longterm relationship, renovations on my house, new jobs etc) but I hope this is worth the wait! 💖

Taglist: @latibvles @softguarnere @brassknucklespeirs @mccall-muffin @lieutenant-speirs @bellewintersroe @emmythespacecowgirl @holdingforgeneralhugs @parajumpboots @hxad-ovxr-hxart @sleepisforcowards @suugrbunz @ax-elcfucker-blog @chaosklutz @mads-weasley @vibing-away @eightysix-baby @ithinkabouttzu @emmylindersson @flowers-and-fichte

Contemporary: Midnight, December 3rd, 1944. Liart Station, France.

When the door to her private train compartment was opened, Alix made a silent promise to herself: As soon as the war was over, she was turning in her goddamn resignation letter to the OSS and going home. She couldn’t handle any more surprises on the job, not like this one. 

“Sorry, I’m late, gorgeous," a lowered voice had remarked wryly as soon as the compartment door slid shut once more.

"You wouldn’t believe the traffic.”

The whisper came from a young man in a heavy coat who casually dropped into the seat next to her as though he belonged there. The dark brim of his fedora was pulled low over his eyes, casting his face in shadow, but she didn’t need to see its entirety to know who it was; she would recognize that gravelly voice anywhere. 

“What are you doing here?” she demanded out of the corner of her mouth, making sure to keep her expression neutral as she flipped through her newspaper and fought the urge to smack the newcomer with it. 

“Thought Nix woulda told ya,” Liebgott looked almost amused, a smirk playing on his lips.

He too spoke out of the corner of his mouth; someone had taught him well. 

“Donovan needed an interrogator with an Austrian dialect. Said this one’s gonna be a real doozy. Called me in as a temp.” 

Alix’s dark eyes narrowed, causing her blue contacts to sting.

“You’re the floater? You’re–” 

“Lieutenant Fritz Eberhardt,” he finished with a nod, casually taking his right hand out of his pocket to reveal the worn, silver skull ring of the Werwolf Kommandos, engraved with the tell-tale motto of the SS:

‘Meine Ehre Heisst Treue’. 

My Honor Means Loyalty.

How ironic.

The paratrooper and translator shot her a roguish wink, leaning back with an arm stretched out lazily along the back of his seat like nothing was wrong. 

“I've been assigned to accompany you to your Paris engagement, Fraulein." 

The spy stiffened.

This was the first time that she could recall ever seeing Joe out of uniform and it would be a shame to get blood all over his nice coat but sweet Jesus, Alix was about ready to make that sacrifice.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the auburn-haired girl muttered under her breath. “You’re going to get us both killed.” 

“You don’t gotta worry ‘bout me,” Joe chuckles. “Trust me-”

"Right, because that's gone so well for me before," the spy snapped sharper than intended.

Joe's eyebrows shot to the compartment ceiling, his cocky demeanor gone in a flash, replaced by a sudden scowl.

"The hell's that supposed to mean?" 

Before Alix could find the words to reply, the shrill whistle of the train screamed out, indicating their departure from Liart Station and the spy took a shaky breath, hearing the rumbling of the wheels on the track underneath them.

She was stuck with him now.

Trying to ignore the ache in her chest at Joe's unexpected presence, Alix tried to force her unfocused eyes to stare at the newspaper in her hands but the words only blurred before her.

"Didja do a bug sweep already?" Joe inquired with a casual yawn as he glanced across her to the window, while Alix flipped the page of her newspaper so hard that she nearly tore it. 

"Of course I did," the spy answered indignantly, unable to contain her irritation.

"That's why you were supposed to come early: to help me look. Listening devices could've been anywhere in here." 

“Don’t gimme that shit,” Joe scoffed in an almost dismissive tone as he tapped the filter of his Reemtsma cigarette.

“Since the liberation, the Krauts have lost a lot of resources and stick to their secret little underground social clubs or whatever. I got the whole rundown from HQ.”

Alix huffed.

Joe was right, damn him. 

While on the surface, France had cleaned up its act, the rotten undergrowth of Nazis and their collaborators remained, festering beneath the surface. 

The chances of them taking the time to bug train compartments were miniscule at best.

“Still,” she responded with a petulant roll of her eyes. “You should’ve been here on time. You never know.”

"Yeah, well you ain't the only one with shit to take care of, okay? I got held up." 

Alix's dark eyes flickered up from her newspaper. 

"Define 'held up'," she said coolly, an undeniably bitter edge to her tone. “What, pray tell, was so pressing?”

Joe crossed his arms and took a long drag off his cigarette before replying snippily,

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Tatiana.”

"It's Tanya, Alix snapped before flipping another page on her newspaper as though she were reading it instead of boring holes into Joe’s face.

“And I would like to know, actually. Because I'd like to think you wouldn't be late to your first assignment without a good reason but maybe I don't know you as well as I thought." 

“Fine.”

Joe's warm brown eyes were suddenly as hard as the wood paneling in the compartment they shared but he shifted the side of his coat up nonetheless, just enough to show a huge cherry-red stain that had blossomed across one side of his ribs.

"There, that a good enough reason for ya?" 

“Madonna mia!” Alix exclaimed, all pretense of anger gone in a flash. “What the hell happened?! Are you alright?”

Joe shrugged nonchalantly.

“Somebody did a shit job friskin' the prisoners so ol' Jerry got to bring a fuckin' boot knife with him to interrogation,” he muttered as he readjusted his coat. "'S not as bad as it looks.”

"Did you have Gene take a look at it?" Alix asked, eyeing his red-soaked shirt with concern. "That's a lot of blood…"

"No, I didn't have 'Gene' look at it," Joe shot back, a mocking edge to his voice as he spat the medic's name, biting down on his cigarette.

"’S fine. Barely a scratch." 

The auburn-haired girl snorted, unable to keep the skepticism out of her tone.

"Right, and I'm the Queen of England."

The translator took a long drag, his expression unreadable. 

“Well, I ain’t your problem anymore,Your Majesty,” he remarked sardonically as he let the smoke curl into the air.

"So you can lay off."

  “You’ll always be my problem,” Alix grumbled under her breath and the pair lapsed into a chilly silence, broken only by the occasional rustling of the newspaper under her fingertips and the rumbling of the train on the tracks.

Still keeping her head angled downward to avoid that familiar ache that seemed to rise in her chest whenever she looked him in the face, Alix let herself study the compartment instead.

In truth, their private compartment was borderline ostentatious – plush maroon upholstery upon the seating, rich mahogany paneling upon the walls, thick velvet curtains adorning the windows to keep the outside world at bay– but the spy could barely concentrate on the luxurious decor either.

Instead, she found herself studying Joe's hands. She still had only fleeting memories of him from before her fall but his hands were one of the few things she remembered the most. 

They had been paler back in England, not yet marred by the blood and grime of the battlefield, the blue veins still snaking up the back all the way to his wrist. She remembered tangled sheets and breathless laughter as they each struggled to catch their breath. She remembered her own scarlet-polished nails tracing each vein in the hand resting beside her, feeling the way his pulse would quicken when she smiled at him.

His fingers were still as calloused and long as she remembered, almost graceful in their strength, and she could still feel the ghost of them interlocking with her own like missing puzzle pieces finally finding their way together.

There weren’t any more ink stains on his fingertips, Alix realized, and she was suddenly half-tempted to make a snide remark about chasing two girls and getting neither, but she kept her silence. 

No need to make an already awkward situation worse, she thought as she chewed on her bottom lip.

Like it or not, they had a mission to complete.

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

The French countryside seemed to pass by in blurs of green, gold, and blue, like the vibrant swirls of a priceless Van Gogh but Alix hardly noticed. 

The spy had been fiddling with the worn handle of a discarded leather briefcase that had been left behind in the luggage rack under her seat. Beside her, Joe was violently twisting the Werwolf skull ring around and around upon his finger, wrenching it with such ferocity that it looked as though he might tear his finger off in the process.

"I hate this," he muttered bitterly, seemingly more to himself than to Alix as he glared down at his calloused hands. 

"I fuckin' hate this." 

"Hate what?" the spy inquired softly, cocking her head and allowing some of her auburn hair to fall over one shoulder.

Joe glanced up at the sound of her voice, clearly not expecting her to speak to him, but he recovered fast as ever.

"This," he replied simply, gesturing to the Werwolf skull ring. 

"Wearing this. Gevalt, it makes me wanna claw my fuckin' skin off.” 

Alix felt a pang of sympathy. She couldn’t even fathom the excruciating cognitive dissonance Joe must be experiencing right now, playing a role he despised…but why bother playing it in the first place? 

Why put himself through the unnecessary pain? He was only a floater– a consultant– for this one mission. He had the power to back out at any time. It didn’t make sense but then, nothing about Joe seemed to make much sense lately.

Alix watched as he lit up another cigarette, his third in an hour, glaring across her, out the window at something unseen. 

He was chainsmoking again, like he always did when he was agitated, and all she could do was let the silence sit and watch him wrench the skull ring harder and harder around his finger.

It was unsettling when Joe was quiet: his rage she could combat; his brooding she couldn’t.

The auburn-haired spy found herself sneaking quick glances over at him out of the corner of her eye, the tension hanging thick in the air around them like the early morning fog.

Surprisingly, Joe was the first to break.

“Look, you got somethin’ to say, just say it.”

“What is there to say?” Alix retorted, her grip on the briefcase’s handle tightening considerably. 

“I’m perfectly capable of traveling on my own. I don't need a floater and I certainly don't need you.”

Joe crossed his arms and leaned his head back against the seat. 

“Well tell that to Donovan then, ziskeit,” he yawns. 

"'Cause I got orders to watch your six till the job's done." 

Alix opened her mouth to complain but she was interrupted by a light knocking on the compartment door and Joe immediately shoved his right hand deep into his pocket to hide the infamous skull ring. 

A disgruntled train attendant appeared, regarding both Joe and Alix with the same beady, bloodshot stare as he stepped inside, sliding the door shut behind him.

“Papers,” the Frenchman demanded with an outstretched hand.

Alix nodded with a casual “Certainement” and set aside the discarded briefcase, retrieving her false identification from her handbag and passing it to the man with what she hoped was a convincingly haughty eyeroll. 

The attendant--whose yellowed nametag identified him as Guillaume-- wore a peevish expression almost identical to their old CO, Captain Sobel, which brought a smirk to Alix's face.

The thought of the sadistic superior officer who had made their lives hell for so long being reduced to a glorified bellhop punching tickets and checking IDs was enough to bring them both a smidgen of joy.

Her gaze flickered over to Joe, who returned the smirk with one of his own, the inside joke seeming to almost bridge the gap between them.

The attendant skimmed over Alix's paperwork, handing it back to her without issue, and then it was Joe's turn.

“You, identification.”

Compliantly, Joe dug into his jacket pocket for his passport with his left hand but as he passed the small booklet to the attendant, it slipped from his fingers toward the carpet. 

Automatically, the translator’s dominant hand shot out of his right pocket to intercept them but it was too late: the skull ring on his right hand was in full view. 

The attendant swore as he snatched up Joe’s fake Austrian passport, staring down at it and back to the tell-tale ring as his face reddened with rage.

“Y-You-” he snarled, his lip curled in disgust and a gloved finger shaking as he pointed at Joe. “You are-” 

“Wha- No, no!” Joe protested, immediately reaching out for his passport back in a desperate bid to quiet him. 

“I’m not-” 

But the Frenchman shoved him off roughly and spat an anti-German epithet at him as Joe’s back hit the seat.

“Boche!”

Joe’s eyes narrowed instantly at the slur and he came back strong, lunging forward to seize the attendant by the collar but Alix stood up, trying to shove her way between them to keep the scuffle from getting out of hand. 

The auburn-haired spy could smell the heavy stench of cheap wine on the older man's breath as she separated the pair and she knew there was no reasoning with him.

The drunken attendant spun on his heel, immediately heading for the compartment door, his final words slurred as his rage boiled over. 

“Filthy swine! Nazi pig! You-”

Alix felt a block of ice drop into her stomach as the man’s large, gloved hand reached the door handle. 

It was no secret that since the liberation, people of German extraction weren't exactly welcome in most of French polite society. 

The épuration sauvage was in full-swing, thousands of suspected collaborators being beaten, tortured, and executed by incensed crowds of French people.

If this man went and ran his mouth off about a Werwolf Kommando on the train, Joe could be mobbed as soon as he set foot outside their compartment. 

This chilling revelation seemed to flip a switch in Alix’s brain: If the man left their compartment, Joe’s life could be in danger.

She couldn’t take that risk.

Slipping behind the drunken attendant with the silent ease of a tigress, the world seemed to slow around her as her training kicked in. Hopping onto the seat for a better vantage point, Alix reached out and yanked the attendant backwards into the compartment by the collar. 

The man staggered a couple steps back, thrown off-balance in his surprise, just close enough for Alix to deftly slice the small blade of her lipstick knife across his throat.

The weapon reached the targeted arteries with surgical precision, right below the larynx. Now unable to scream, the man could only gasp and gargle as his legs gave out and he sank downwards toward the carpet in a heap. Following him down to the ground, Alix gathered the excess fabric of her dress's skirt and slapped the material over the wound to stifle the bright arcs of blood that were spurting out like a gruesome fountain.

The pale lace was already growing heavy, turning from an icy blue to a deep, blood-soaked maroon, the arterial spray oozing through the delicate material slower and slower as the man’s heart gradually stopped beating. 

Then the attendant went limp, his jaw falling slack as a sickening gurgle emanated from his cut throat, and the auburn-haired spy knew he was gone. 

No loose ends, she told herself inwardly, repeating the instructions of her superiors over and over like a mantra in her head.

He could have gotten Joe killed. You did the right thing.

But did she? 

She didn’t even remember pulling the knife, not really. 

Not that it mattered: a civilian was still dead.

Alix’s hands were shaking as she stared down at the attendant’s lifeless form, too scared to see the shock and revulsion written all over Joe’s handsome face. 

He’d never seen her kill, after all. 

If he didn’t hate her before, he most certainly would now.

But when she finally looked up, there was nothing like that. 

No disgust, no outrage, no fear.

Instead, there was the same old glint to his gaze and an unspoken warmth in his whiskey-brown eyes that filled her with a strange calm.

“Well ya didn’t hafta do all that, Zees,” Joe remarked finally as a small, lopsided smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. 

“But I ‘preciate it. Nice to know you care.”

“I don’t,” the auburn-haired girl muttered as she knelt, quickly rifling through the corpse’s bloodied uniform for anything useful. 

A billfold full of francs and an identification card from the train company.

Alix handed the wallet over to Joe, averting her gaze to ignore the way her pulse quickened at the brush of their fingertips.

“He was putting the mission in jeopardy,” she added lamely and straightened up, shifting the thick curtains to the side so she could undo the window’s latch.

“Yeah?” Joe snorted as he dragged the lifeless body by its outstretched arms to the open window and turned back to shoot her a sly wink over his shoulder.

His usual crooked grin quirked up one corner of his lips wryly, almost flirtatiously, and the knowing expression in his whiskey-colored eyes caused a small flurry of butterflies to appear once more in her stomach.

It was like he could see right through her.

“Well Ziskeit, ‘the mission’ thanks you.” 

With a grunt, the scrappy paratrooper managed to haul the corpse half onto the window’s ledge before turning back to his partner.

“Now let's get this mamzer dealt with, huh?”

Alix hoisted the corpse's legs up, giving it a final, unceremonious shove out the window, sending it rolling down into the snowy French countryside somewhere.

That was one problem taken care of...But unfortunately, there were more where that came from.

"Madonna mia," Alix swore as she frowned down at the blood-spattered blue material of her dress.

“I gotta dump this somewhere.”

Joe took his seat again and shrugged, watching Alix's nimble fingers close the window once more and re-draw the curtains.

“So change then." 

The auburn-haired girl balked, nearly losing her footing in her surprise.

“Right now?"

“Nah, next Tuesday,” the paratrooper deadpanned with a melodramatic roll of his eyes. “Christ, Zees, you're actin' like I ain't ever seen ya undress before. Hey, remember that one night at your billet when-”

“Don’t remind me,” Alix muttered, the infuriatingly obvious blush of her cheeks making her grit her teeth as the night he is referring to comes back in vivid colors.

She shook her head to banish the memories, her straightened auburn hair tumbling down her shoulders.

"Besides, it was a long time ago anyway. It doesn't matter now."

The lie tasted bitter as cyanide.

"Yeah?" Joe took another slow drag off his cigarette, watching the smoke curl up to the ceiling before he spoke again, his raspy tenor flat with thinly-veiled hurt.

"Guess that's the difference between you an' me. 'Cause to me, it matters a fuckin' lot."

[nionom-art]

Do you have a basic storyline in mind or who dies each chapter/who survives the game planned out for your Danganronpa AU, or are you just thinking about the designs for now (which have been super cute and spot on)?

I can pair each character’s potential death with a chapter number based on the DR formula and their vibes lol, and now I’m thinking about who’d survive. For some characters I can see them going both ways.

Sorry this took me so long to get to (i wanted to be sure about my chapter set up before I answered).

So- the victims and the culprits, chapter by chapter:

Ch 1.: culprit: Zoe. Sympathetic angle. Similar to Kaede in D3. Victim: Juleka. (Rose is furious and a massive help in this case- same with Luka.)

Ch. 2.: culprit: Nathaniel. Only goes after Luka once he confronts Nathaniel about having involvement in Juleka’s case. I want this case to be complicated and sad.

Ch. 3.: culprit: Sabrina. First, Chloe and Sabrina go after Marinette, but end up killing Rose instead. Sabrina then kills Chloe. Double murder case.

Ch. 4.: culprit: Kagami. Victim: Kagami. It’s pretty much Sakura’s trial in D1. (Adrien and Marinette are particularly distraught).

Ch. 5: culprit: probably Lila. Victim: Alya. (Marinette is framed- we get a ch 5 Makoto situation here).

Ch 6.: we find out who the ultimate despair is

Survivors: Marinette, Nino, Adrien, Alix, and Mark

So yeah, that’s what I got so far

[uptoolateart]

Where We Find Ourselves Again - THE END! (And Ch 1 of Book 4)

PREVIEW:

As the morning sunlight streamed through the blinds, Adrien sat on the edge of the bed in Nathalie’s room. The room Nathalie had insisted he sleep in, after they’d brought him back last night. The room Adrien hadn’t left since…watching over him while Marinette searched for Alix, to give her the rabbit miraculous at long last.

Hugo had slept soundly since they’d carried him out of that – that place. Even when they’d laid him on the bed and drawn the covers over his body, he hadn’t so much as stirred. Exhaustion lined his face. That burst of power in his prison cell must have drained him, depleting his energy stores.

For perhaps the hundredth time since it happened, the memory slammed back into Adrien’s head. Of Hugo’s body glowing. Like someone had – had flicked on a switch and lit him up from the inside.

For a bone-shaking moment, he hadn’t looked like their son. He’d been…someone else. Someone more. Maybe someone who understood the secrets of the universe.

Then he’d collapsed, their not-so-little boy once more.

Adrien let out a heavy sigh. After more than fourteen years of being a father, here he was again, just…watching his son sleep…unable to tear his gaze away…like when Hugo was a newborn. No matter how much he grew, he would always be his little boy.

Read at Ao3

[the-delta-42]

Headache

Headache

Marinette rubbed her eyes as a familiar searing pain appeared behind her eyes. She let out a quiet groan, straining her ears to hear what Ms. Mendeleiev was saying.

“Is there something you’d like to add, Ms. Dupain-Cheng?” Asked Mendeleiev, glaring at Marinette.

“No, professeur, I’ve got a headache, I’m sorry for interrupting.” Responded Marinette, as she felt another stab of pain.

“That’s the fifth headache this week,” Noted Mendeleiev, glancing around the classroom, “Bourgeois, take her to the nurse.”

“What?” Demanded Chloé, staring at the teacher.

“Now.”

Chloé scowled, as Marinette got out of her seat and stumbled slightly. Chloé grabbed Marinette’s arm and practically dragged her to the nurse’s office. Marinette’s headache to taking up most of her attention, so she didn’t argue with Chloé during the trip.

The nurse looked up from her computer and spotted Chloé and Marinette, “Can I help?”

“Dupain-Cheng’s had a headache for the past week.” Said Chloé, before turning on her heel and leaving the office.

“So, this headache,” Said the Nurse, after a moment, “have you been having any other pains alongside it?”

“I’ve been having some issues with my eyes, and I’ve felt dizzy and sick at times.” Said Marinette, wincing with her eyes closed, “I’ve been taking some pain killers, but those haven’t touched it.”

The nurse hummed, before looking at Marinette, “What did your doctor say?”

“He said it’ll pass in a few days.” Responded Marinette, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Do you require glasses?” Questioned the Nurse, typing on her computer.

“I haven’t checked.”

“When you said your doctor told you it’d pass in a few days,” Asked the Nurse, “when did he say that?”

“About a month ago, so in January.”

The Nurse stopped and looked at her, “Marinette, we’re in May.”

H

“And you’ve had this headache for five months?” Asked Dr. Bateman, looking at her computer screen, “And you’ve also been feeling dizzy and nauseous?”

“Yeah.” Replied Marinette, as her mother sat next to her.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Interrupted Sabine, looking between Marinette and Dr. Bateman, “Dr. Marsille didn’t ask any questions.”

“I think the migraines, nausea and dizziness are symptoms of another issue.” Confessed Bateman, looking at the mother and daughter, “I’m going to schedule an MRI, just to make sure it isn’t anything to be worried about.”

Sabine and Marinette left the doctors surgery with more questions than answers, and, in Sabine’s case, a quiet voice suggesting everything that could be wrong.

H

Alya chewed on the end of her pen, Lila, while her stories had been interesting at first, was droning on and on about some charity gig she went to with Clara Nightingale or some other popstar. Marinette had left half-way through science to attend a doctors appointment, so Alya was left to deal with the headache that the class often called ‘big boss in charge headache’. Thank you very much Kim, for that oh so wonderful name.

Speaking of Kim, Alya glanced to the side and saw him making spit balls with Alix, each choosing another member of the class at random. Alya groaned as Chloé squawked as a spit ball hit the back of her neck.

When was Mari going to get back?

-

-

“Okay,” Said an orderly, as Marinette was loaded into the MRI machine, “try not to move, so any scans we take are as clear as possible. And, don’t be afraid, it’s going to be loud, but you’ll be quite safe.”

Marinette nodded, feeling terrified, she taken the earrings off and left them with Tikki in her purse. She took a deep breath, before the procedure started.

-

-

“Okay, so,” Said Dr. Bateman, “This is Marinette’s brain, the different areas, like the hippocampus and brain stem. Now, we discovered a mass in your temporal lobe. We believe it’s the source of your headaches, and other symptoms.”

“Is, is it dangerous?” Asked Sabine, as Marinette just stared at the scan.

“We don’t know, we might start preparations for surgery, if that’s what you’d like.” Answered Bateman, as Marinette chewed her bottom lip.

“I-it’s nothing dangerous, right?” Asked Marinette, looking at Bateman.

“Until we do an angiogram, we can’t tell for sure.”

H

A couple weeks and one angiogram later, Marinette sat across Doctor Bateman, with her mother next to her.

“I’ll be honest, finding two abnormal aneurysms was a surprise.” Admitted Doctor Bateman, “We can schedule surgery and have them removed, if you’d like to. There have been people who have had aneurysms that have live long and healthy lives.”

“But…”

“But that number is few.”

Marinette tried to keep herself calm, thinking on the treatment for the aneurysms, “W-when can we have the surgery?”

H

“Okay, we have the tickets bought and the hotel paid for,” Said Bustier, looking over the list, “almost everyone in my class has paid the fee and all the paperwork is up to date.”

“Almost everyone?” Questioned Rebecca Chamber, another teacher, with a smirk on her face, “Is it your resident liar, or one of those blond brats?”

Caline sighed, “Okay, first of all, Adrien isn’t a brat, and it’s Marinette who’s not going on the trip. She has an important appointment.”

“Your little goody two shoes?” Scoffed Chamber, “What’s more important than a trip to London?”

“She has a medical issue.” Responded Bustier, “She needs the time to prepare for the procedure, undergo it and recover from it, by the time we get back, she’ll be ready to reattend class.”

“Ooh, she has a procedure?” Said Chamber, haughtily, “What’s going on? Is she having a face lift?”

“She’d having a brain aneurysm removed.” Said D’Argencourt, “Her parents told us and asked that the news be shared with her teachers, including you, Mademoiselle Chamber.”

“Oh, is that what that email was about?”

“Yes.”

H

“Okay, Marinette,” Said Dr. Bates, looking down at her, “we’ve started the anaesthetic. Now, I want you to count backwards from ten, can you do that for me?”

Marinette gave a small nod.

‘Ten.’

‘Nine.’

‘Eight.’

Marinette didn’t reach seven.

H

When Marinette opened her eyes, she was in a different room. Giving out a small whine as she looked around, before spotting an orderly.

“Hiiii.” Slurred Marinette, giving the orderly a dopey smile.

“Hi.”

“I have a secret.”

“Really?” Answered the orderly, looking at Marinette’s chart.

“’m Ladybug.”

“No way.”

“But it’s a secret.”

The orderly silently nodded, as Marinette rolled onto her side and went to sleep.

“Another Ladybug?” Asked a nurse, getting a nod from the Orderly.

“It’s nice that kids these days have someone positive to look up to.” Commented the Nurse, as they started to wheel Marinette to the discharge ward.

H

Marinette looked around the room she was in, her parents were sitting in the chairs next to her bed and she was scribbling in her sketchbook. A knock alerted them to doctor Bates entering the room, frowning at a scan done after the surgery.

“Is everything alight?” Asked Sabine, making Bates look at them.

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” Said Dr. Bates, turning the scan so they could see it, “There appears to have been a mistake, there was only one aneurysm.”

“B-but the scan showed two.” Said Marinette, feeling a chill run down her back.

“We think there might be an issue with the machine,” Confessed Bates, “I was confused when we only found one. It might’ve been large enough to be confused as two, but we’ll schedule an appointment for another scan a few weeks from now.”

H

Marinette rubbed her eyes, squinting at the front of the class, absently rubbing her head. The follow-up scan didn’t show any more abnormal masses and, after a quick chat with Tikki and Alya, Marinette had decided to bring Chat into her secret.

“You okay, girl?” Asked Alya, quietly, jerking Marinette out of her thoughts.

“Yeah, the board’s really fuzzy today, isn’t it?” Responded Marinette, before freezing, “Merde.”

“What?”

“I have an eye test in ten minutes.”

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Perfect Paradise

Ch.4 Y se te Para el Tiempo en tu Cara

Bunnyx stared at the fuzzy branches that split from the timeline. None of them good. But none of them world ending either.

Which meant she couldn't, shouldn't rather, interfere.

A change was coming and Alix needed to let it happen.

She waved her hand and the static cleared to show the Celestial Guardian sprinting across the countryside... A deep sigh left her as she swept the timestream back to Paris.

A familiar blue head stood in front of Adrien's mansion. Alix fast forwarded. "Oof that's rough," she winced.

But... This she could do.

----------------------

Going back a few minutes Alix stepped through the Burrow and detransformed. Joining Luka on his way to see Adrien.

"Your interview with Nadja Chamack is set, Adrien."

"Thank you, Gregor." Adrien leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.

The paperwork to extricate his assets from the "family business" was long, tedious and complicated further by Adrien's insistence on combing through it himself before approving anything... He wasn't particularly trusting at the moment.

"I've also-" Gregor paused.

"Hmm?" Adrien looked up at his assistant's floating emoticon face.

"Luka Couffaine and Alix Kubdel are at the front gate."

Adrien felt something squeeze his chest.

"I will tell them you are indisposed."

"Yeah... Wait." Adrien took a steadying breath. "I'll see them."

"...Are you sure Adrien?"

Adrien straightened the papers on his desk as the pressure in his chest grew. "Send them in."

-----------------------

Luka saw some of the tension leave Alix's shoulders as the spherical camera retracted and the gate opened. "You okay?"

"Yes. No. I just, don't like the whole 'Jabba's Palace' routine. Reminds me of Agreste Manor."

"Oh." Luka wouldn't know. He only visited Adrien there once.

"Welcome." A Kanté-class AI said as they entered. Their holographic face neutral.

"Hey, Gregor," Alix greeted.

Gregor bobbed in a nod. "Alix... Luka. Adrien is in the No Fun Room."

"His office," Alix explained at Luka's confused look.

Luka's lips twitched. "He calls it the No Fun Room?'

"Says it helps his ADHD."

"Ah..."

"Please remove your shoes," Gregor asked as he lead them through Adrien's home.

From what little Luka remembered, Adrien's new mansion was almost the exact opposite of his old one. There was colorful carpet and hardwood floors instead of stark tiles. Faded drawings made in crayon ran along the bottom of the walls. The light filling the space was soft and warm.

But there were also... scars.

Empty spaces that obviously used to hold framed portraits were next to pictures of Adrien and his family. Emma in her fencing gear. Hugo playing the piano. Little Louis surrounded by fabrics.

And, just over there, was a family portrait. Marinette and Adrien and the three kids all laughing in a candid photo. It was off center. Like it'd been removed from it's place of prominence.

"Now this is a surprise," Adrien said from behind a desk stacked with papers. "The prodigal son back in town to pay me a visit."

"Hey, I'm here too!" Alix spoke up.

"Alix we saw each other last month."

"And you kept tight lipped about something important dincha?"

Adrien's eyes wandered back to the paperwork on his desk. "I don't see how my personal life is any of your business."

Alix bit her tongue. Reminding herself that she was there to smooth things over not rock the boat even more.

"That's actually why I'm here." Luka walked up to the desk but kept on the opposite side of it. "It's not great to hear but... The relationship between the Ladybug and Black Cat does concern us. As wielders of the Miraculous."

The mask of polite neutrality on Adrien's face was pulled taunt. "I'm surprised you came to me and not Marinette."

Alix coughed.

"... She was busy," Luka admitted.

"Of course."

"Adrien-

"I'm sorry."

Luka blinked. "Sorry?"

"I know it's, heh, twenty-six years overdue but... I'm sorry I went to you for advice about your ex-girlfriend."

"Oh." Luka's confusion didn't diminished but now he knew where Adrien was coming from. "I mean, I don't hold it against you."

Adrien shook his head. "Still. I shouldn't have done that. And I'm sorry."

"I forgive you," Luka said because it felt like the answer Adrien was looking for.

The mask slipped a little as Adrien gave a tentative smile... And stared at Luka... Waiting...

Alix cleared her throat drawing Luka's attention. She gave the slightest jerk in Adrien's direction. Eyes practically bulging as she pointed at him with just her irises.

Luka glanced from her to Adrien. Eyes widening. "And I'm sorry I didn't tell you I knew your identity before leaving."

Adrien twisted the rings on his fingers. Over and over and over. "...Is that it?"

"I'm... sorry I wasn't honest with you-"

Adrien shot to his feet. Rolling chair shooting back and papers sliding off their piles. Mask gone as Adrien stared at him with disdain. "Honest with me? Honest with me. Is that all you did, Luka? You weren't honest with me?"

Alix stepped forward. "Adrien-"

"Stay out of this, Doctor Who!" he snapped.

Luka scrambled for the right notes as Adrien's song went into a minor key. "I know we haven't harmonized for a while Adrien but just-"

"Our songs have never been in harmony."

Luka flinched.

"...You don't even remember do you?" Adrien deflated as whatever rage he held onto was replaced with sorrow. "I think you should leave."

"Please, just tell me-"

"You sold me out." Adrien whispered.

"... What?"

Adrien took a deep breath. "You. And my ex-wife. Sold. Me. Out."

Luka shook his head. "No. I would never do that to..." A memory came back to him.

Marinette. Panicked and small. The Celestial Guardian. Loud and angry. Adrien. Hopeful and oh so trusting.

Luka staggered back. "I..."

"Gregor."

The AI materialized. "Yes, Adrien?"

"See him out."

"Of course. Come now. Back the way we came."

"She was trying to protect you!" Luka blurted out.

Adrien's expression hardened further. "I have nothing more to say to you. Good day, M. Couffaine."

"If this is why you-"

"M. Couffaine. You may have seen our faces but you never saw past our masks."

With a nod at Gregor a robotic chair zoomed in and pushed behind Luka's knees. Who fell into the seat. A seatbelt zipping into place before hurrying away with it's charge.

As Luka was ushered out he saw that there were also photos of Kitty Section playing together.

None of them included him.

Alix pinched the bridge of her nose. That could've gone better. She definitely should've bent the rules a bit and told him... Something.

"Not turning out the way you hoped?" Adrien asked, straightening the papers on his desk. "Join the club."

"Luka didn't deserve that from you, Cinderella."

"You're right. He deserved worse."

"That's not- Mm, no. Not getting into this. I'm just gonna go."

Adrien pressed a button and the door to his study closed.

"...Well that's not creepy at all. Do all your doors do that?"

"It's just for this room. The kids overhearing business dealings would be... Legally messy."

"Uh-huh," Alix said, eyeing the window and gripping her Miraculous. "Sure."

"I have a question. For Bunnyx."

Alix sighed. "If it's about the future..."

"I get that we're not friends but you still owe me answers."

She bristled at the allusion to her "owing" him. Remembering the times he posted her bail and asked nothing in return... Her grip on the pocket watch loosened. "Since when aren't we friends?"

"Since you found out about 'something important' and said jack shit. So, y'know, however many years that is."

"..."

Alix looked at Adrien. Laugh lines overshadowed by the eye bags he sported. Tall, muscular frame weighed down by truths made heavier with time.

He was looking at her the same way he looked at Luka. Like she was a stranger... "What do you wanna know?"

Adrien stared into her eyes. "What is Chat Blanc?"

--------------------------

Adrien looked at the security feed as Luka and Alix left him.

"Gregor?"

"Yes, Adrien?"

"Luka Couffaine, Alix Kubdel, Viperion and Bunnyx are no longer welcome in my home."

Gregor bobbed in midair as a nod. Eyes sad but understanding. "Of course, Adrien. I will-" His eyes became three dots pulsing in sequence. Before snapping back into focus.

"Gregor? What is it? You okay?"

"... Emilie Agreste has filed for custody of Emma, Hugo and Louis."

[airi-p4]

The weekend Project - Ch 1

Chapter 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7  ____________________________________________

Hi! I've been wanting to write a Juleka and Marinette's friendship story for a long while and I finally did it! The fic is finished, but I'll update it little by little. Chapter 1 is the introduction.

Enjoy?

__________________________________________

Summary

At school, Marinette has no friends in her class other than Alya. With the idea of making students interact more and out of their usual groups of friends, Ms. Bustier assigns her students to a school project that requires spending a weekend with another student of her choice. What Marinette didn't know was how this project with her partner Juleka was going to change her life.

__________________________________

AO3

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Chapter 1: The project

It was apparently a normal Wednesday for the students, but Ms. Bustier had been planning to reveal a special event for weeks now. 

She had been observant of her students and she noticed how, after months, the students didn't interact much outside of their usual groups of friends. Alya and Marinette, Juleka and Rose, Chloé and Sabrina, Alix and Nathaniel, Max and Kim, Mylène and Ivan, Nino and Adrien… So, with the parents' agreement, she planned a project for her students to socialize and learn more about their classmates.

"Good morning, everyone. I'm going to explain an assignment to you. I call it the 'weekend project.'"

She could hear some chit-chatting between her students, so she clapped before continuing.

"For this project, you'll have to spend a weekend at another one of your classmates' houses, one weekend at each house, with a total of two, and you'll have to write down and do a presentation in front of your classmates about what you did and learned from your experience. You can talk about your partner's routines, what they normally eat, how they spend their free time or which activities they usually do and what you found the most surprising or the most convenient of their houses. I want you to make a list of at least 5 positive traits of your project partner as well"

The chit-chatting continued and the teacher could see how the usual groups of friends were already pairing up for the project with excitement. She was sure it wasn't going to last long, after she mentioned the next words.

"Your partners for this project will be assigned by me." 

There was a collective gasp and nervous chit-chatting again. 'What if I get Chloé!' Alya and Marinette commented from the second row. Funnily enough, Chloé made the same comment about Marinette. Luckily for them, said pair wasn't in the teacher's plans.

"Listen, these will be the teams, okay?" Marinette gulped, holding Alya's hand tightly. "The first pair will be Alix and Chloé"

"What!?" Chloé protested. "I mean—of course I belong to a museum, with my beauty, but I refuse to have to spend time with this… ugh! Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!" 

"The feeling is mutual…" Alix mumbled. "You can play pretend you're a statue all weekend if you want. I'd prefer it," she added with a teasing grin.

"How dare you!" The mayor's daughter rose from her seat.

"Chloé! Alix! Enough!" The teacher finally snapped. "You're going to do this project until the end. I'm not accepting complaints! It's just a weekend, girls. You can endure it."

Chloe grumbled something inaudible before sitting again.

"At least we didn't get Chloé…" Alya whispered in Marinette's ear, who sighed in relief. She didn't expect it to be her turn next.

"Marinette and Juleka." 

Marinette jumped at her name and looked back at the purple-haired girl. She seemed as surprised as Marinette, but soon shrugged and Rose held her hand tighter. Ms. Bustier continued assigning partners, but Marinette could only wonder how these two weekends were going to be.

_____________________________

…Thinking back, Marinette didn't know much about Juleka, a quiet and shy girl who always wore black and covered half her face with her long dyed purple hair. She didn't even speak, mostly mumbled, and the only one who seemed to understand her was Rose, who was always with her despite being apparently her opposite: Rose was radiant and Juleka was… Dark? Goth? Different.

How was she going to get along with her…?

...

[dailymlgifs]

[starblue2406]

"I am yours and you are mine and of this there is no doubt. You are imprisoned in my heart, the little key has been lost and now you must remain there forever and ever." -Alejandra Fyodorovna Romanova/Alix of Hesse-Darmstadt

“How sad to be forced to stay away from her for so long -he writes- Being together is wonderful, a real paradise". - Nikolái Aleksándrovich Románov

These are quotes from letters of my two favorite lovebirds, taken from the book "Nicholas and Alexandra: Love and Death in Imperial Russia", written by ROBERT K. MASSIE. Every time I read this book I end up with a heavy heart, either because of the beautiful relationship they had or because I end up sad because of some mistake that led to their execution in a filthy cellar.

Since I began to love this historical couple, I have searched for some visual medium to move me and although there are photos of the two of them to say the least, the truth is that there are few where they show their love since most of them are formal due to the time and their position. as tsar and tsarina of Russia, but there is almost no content that visually shows that love that is so talked about in movies, series, documents, and historians.

I have already ordered a commission to be made in search of moving me and although I appreciate the work of that friend, it is not what I was looking for while the AI, although it touched my heart, lacked that spark that would make me review in the blink of an eye what those little letters and historical information have brought me so much... Until today...

Lately I have been feeling very inspired by this couple and based on this, the beautiful @littlecarnet she has given me this beautiful gift that not only gave me what I have been looking for so much, but has also created two lethal weapons of love that killed me with a bullet, now I am dead and I write it from a heart that exploded for so much beauty.I wonder now, if they had had the opportunity to have the internet and meet this beauty, what would they have thought and done? Based on what I have read and a little of what I have done with my CH comic, I imagine they were impressed, moved, you had this upholstered to hang it in a palace like a real painting and they gave a heartfelt thank you to the artist...But since sadly they are no longer here, I feel obliged to thank this gift with all my heart and go to fine arts to demand that they expose this beauty. Meanwhile today and in a month or more I will appreciate this with all my heart because this is a treasure... 

THANK YOU SO MUCH SABINE!!!, YOU ARE THE BEST, PEOPLE AND ARTISTS LIKE YOU ARE WORTH EVERYTHING!!!, YOU HAVE MY ABSOLUTE ADMIRATION AND GRATITUDE!!!

[kasienda]

Celebrity Status: Ch 5 - Public Opinion

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Read on Ao3

Chapter 5: Public Opinion

“If you think about it, everyone else’s bad day ends up being my bad day!”

Marinette slammed her laptop closed before she could hear the commentary that she was needlessly cruel to an innocent girl, or a terrible role model to all of Paris. 

She had already heard it all. 

“A classic case of victim blaming.” 

“I’m so disappointed. I looked up to her. But now she is canceled.” 

“I can’t believe Ladybug could be so dismissive. She was so mean to the akuma victim. I thought she was better than that.”

Even her own maman hadn’t spared a thought for Ladybug. 

“That poor girl,” she had said. “She’s already having an awful day after becoming an akuma.” 

And it wasn’t like her maman was wrong, but Marinette wished she had also noticed that Ladybug must have been having a terrible day as well to snap like that. 

And that terrible day hadn’t ended when the sun went down because she couldn’t escape it. The criticism was everywhere. It was online, on the news, and she hadn’t even been to school yet. Everyone had something to say about it. And admittedly, she had screwed up. She knew that. She knew that the second she had said it. 

That was why she had apologized instantly, but did anyone ever play that part of the clip? 

Noooo! 

“Marinette! It’s time for school!” her maman called up the stairwell. 

Marinette groaned, burying her face in her hands. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to hear what her unknowing classmates thought of her actions. 

“C’mon, Marinette,” Tikki urged. “It can’t be worse.” 

“You say that! But it won’t be random internet strangers. It’ll be my friends.” 

It would be her class! It would be her oldest friends from kindergarten. It would be Alya and Adrien. She cared what they thought of her even if they didn’t know it was her.  Maybe especially when they didn’t know it was her because then she knew their opinions were real . 

But Tikki was right. She had to go to school.

“Yeah, it really wasn’t cool,” Alix was saying when Marinette walked in. Hopefully she wasn’t talking about Ladybug. Maybe Kim had done something stupid again. 

“It just seems so unlike her,” Rose said.

And Marinette’s stomach dropped. She was pretty sure they were talking about Ladybug. She trudged to her seat, not saying so much as good morning to Alya, Nino, or Adrien who were all already in their seats. 

“This is why you should never meet your heroes,” Lila said darkly.

“That girl was beneath Ladybug,” Chloé chimed in. “Ladybug was right to put her in her place.”

Marinette let her head thunk onto the table. If Chloé approved, she was definitely totally and completely in the wrong. 

“You okay, girl?” Alya asked. 

“Fine,” Marinette mumbled into her table. “This all just stresses me out.” 

“I know! It’s wild right? Who’d have ever thought that Ladybug was the type of person who could snap like that?”

“Et tu, Brute?” Marinette whispered, very much wanting to cry.

“Have any of you ever heard of the Fundamental Attribution Error?” Adrien asked loudly. It was the closest thing to irritated Marinette had ever heard from him. He had everyone’s attention. 

“Funda what?” Kim echoed. 

“It’s when someone else is a jerk you tend to assume that it’s something in their nature,” Adrien explained, “just the way they are. But when you are a jerk you tend to attribute your behavior to the situation. Like you’re stressed or having a bad day and that brings out a darker side. But you don’t think it means you’re a bad person, just that you’re stressed or having a hard time.”

“What’s your point?” 

“My point is you’re all disappointed in Ladybug. You’re assuming she is this way because of a thing she said in the heat of the moment to one person at one time. When in reality, she’s just a person who was probably having a bad day, a person who has saved every single one of us at least once, if not multiple times, a person who has to drop everything over and over to put herself in danger to fight akumas who are trying to hurt or kill her.” The heat in his voice was unmistakable now. “She didn’t stop being brave or courageous or a role model. She made a mistake.”

Now Marinette was crying. She wiped away her tears quickly, blinking furiously before more could fall.

Adrien hadn’t judged her. Adrien had understood, had defended her to the entire class. 

“You’re being awfully forgiving. Agreste,” Lila said. “Ladybug–”

“Maybe I just know what it’s like to have every action and word you say to be judged in the court of the public eye,” Adrien cut in. “It’s an impossible standard to live up to.”

Marinette’s smile felt manic. She was on cloud nine. It no longer mattered to her what the news was saying or even what her classmates thought. 

Adrien forgave Ladybug, still admired and appreciated her. That was all Ladybug needed.

“Can I put that on the Ladyblog?” Alya asked.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks tinged with pink. “My father will kill me.”

“I don’t have to,” Alya immediately back-pedaled. 

Then Adrien smiled. “No, you know what? Go ahead. It’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission, right?”

He was even willing to put himself in harm’s way for her. 

Marinette sighed happily. God, she loved him so much. 

…

“What is this?!” his father demanded the moment Adrien stepped into the foyer.

Adrien didn’t even need to ask what he was talking about. “An interview I did for the Ladyblog.” 

“I didn’t authorize an interview with the Ladyblog.” 

Adrien hands spasmed at his sides, wanting to fly upwards to reassure himself. He held them stiff, knowing his father hated the nervous tick. 

“No, I know. It’s just everyone in class was saying all these negative things about–”

“The public’s opinion on Ladybug is not my concern,” Gabriel interrupted. “Nor should it be yours. We do not need to be dragged into Ladybug’s PR problems.”

Yeah well, Ladybug’s personal morale and wellbeing was very much Adrien’s concern. Not that he could explain it. 

“Right. I’m sorry, father.” He wasn’t, but he knew arguing would only make everything worse. His own version of damage control. 

“You’re grounded for the next two weeks.” 

Adrien’s head shot up. 

Two weeks?! His interview with Alya hadn’t been anything that reflected poorly on the Gabriel brand. At least, Adrien didn’t think so!

“And if anything like this happens again, you’ll return to homeschooling.”

Adrien blinked at his father. He had known there would be repercussions, but his father’s reaction was far more extreme than expected. 

“That will be all, Adrien.” 

Adrien shook himself loose. “Yes, father.” 

He made his way up to his room. It was going to be a long two weeks. 

…

“What do you mean Adrien’s grounded?” Marinette demanded of her best friend.

“Yeah, I feel super bad. He’s grounded for two weeks because he gave me a few quotes for my last post without asking permission. I asked him if he wanted me to take it down, but he told me that he wanted it to stand to make the punishment worth it.” 

Marinette’s eyes threatened tears. Adrien was truly too good for this world. “We’ll have to make it up to him.” 

And she had the perfect idea. Maybe Adrien couldn’t leave his room, but that didn’t mean a superpowered guest couldn’t pay him a visit. 

She brought a box of macarons for good measure. 

"Ladybug!” Adrien greeted, springing to his feet when she tapped on his window. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked as he offered her a hand to ease the step down into his room. 

“I wanted to replace the cookies you leant me the other day!” she said, holding up the box. “And I uh… may have also heard that you were grounded for defending me on the Ladyblog. And wanted to come cheer you up!” 

His answering smile warmed her from her chest to her toes. “Mission successful then! Would you uh… like to come in?”

“Of course!”

“From what I can tell, it seems like you might be having a rough few days,” he observed.

“Oh my god! Tell me about it. It’s like when things get stressful, I’m not on my game, and then because of that everything gets even more stressful!”

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

And she found herself telling him everything, barring any identity revealing details of course, about the whole week from her parents being upset with her, to missing out on outings with her friends, to the horrible timing of akumas, and to that most recent akuma in particular.

“And now everyone hates Ladybug!” she finished. Somewhere in the last fifteen minutes she had moved from a somewhat normal sitting position on his sofa, to laying flipped upside down with her feet hanging over the back cushion. After the way he spoke about her in class, she just felt so comfortable here, so safe in his presence.

He would never judge her. 

“Not everyone hates Ladybug!” he countered. 

“Everyone except you.” 

She grinned when his face turned pink. It was nice to be able to affect him the way he had always affected her. 

Maybe he even liked Ladybug. 

“It’ll blow over. Trust me. In a week, something else will happen and no one will even notice this little blunder.” 

Ladybug flipped upright. “How do you do it?” 

“Do what?” 

"How do you deal with a scandal, or just being famous in general,” Ladybug said. 

“Well, in my case, there’s an entire team. There’s people who monitor what is being said, others who research the best responses, and then I have coaches that tutor me, not so much in what to say, but in how to say it so it comes across in the best possible light.”

”There are coaches for dealing with being famous?!”

He laughed. "If you have enough money, there's coaches for everything."

She flopped back down in defeat. "I don't have any money."

Then she lit up. "Do you want to be my coach?!"

"Your coach?" he repeated.

"Yeah, where you teach me about how to handle being a public figure."

"I don't know if I'm qualified. I mean, being tutored is way different than tutoring someone else."

"Sure, but I don't have a lot of other options. You can't possibly make things worse for me."

The room was silent for a long time. 

She smiled up at him. “Please?”

“I could never say no to you.”

Her smile stretched wide. “This’ll be amazing! You’ll see!”

Adrien’s thoughtful insight would no doubt solve all her PR problems.  

…

[silentmagi]

Marinette & Girl Squad (Alya, Alix, Mylene, Juleka, Rose, Kagami, Fei, Socqueline) - You Are In Control

In an effort to help their friend, the girls decide that she needed to take control. Who is in control? Well that changes by the chapter.

Currently Ch 123: Wu Fei - Jewelry Heists Are NOT Bonding Activities Marinette!