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anxresi · 4 years

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Chloe’s Last Straw

Synopsis:

Chloe is guilty of many things in her life. But not this. Never this. So when her mother says something unforgivable to a person she'd usually consider an enemy, it's up to her to put things right. Grab your popcorn folks, and get ready for a roasting. Written for Blackout Tuesday.

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Caline Bustier sighed in exasperation, wondering how her once promising career as an educator had stuck her with this… the most ill-disciplined, out-of-control bunch of students she’d ever had to guide since her formative years as a kindergarten coordinator.

But even those young rapscallions had some level of respect for their elders, whereas the current batch of alleged ‘maturer’ teens…

They couldn’t even raise their heads for role-call in the morning.

“Max! Stop playing with that flying toy this second ! Mylene, Ivan… you can kiss each other during recess! Return to your desks now ! Nathanael! Put down those pencils and listen to me! Lila, I know you said you suffer from ADHD, but until I see a doctor’s note, I expect you to respond immediately when I call your name! Honestly, it’s like trying to herd cats! And where on Earth are…”

“I’m here! I’m here!!” As if in answer to her request, Adrien Agreste bustled in just then, out-of-breath and apparently with a ready-made excuse to explain his absence. “Dawn fashion shoot… then piano recital… early morning practice… stop me falling behind. A-Apologies Miss Bustier… you know how it is with my father…”

“Hmm, yes… I’m afraid I do .” The frowning teacher gave an understanding nod, for Gabriel Agreste’s huge expectations for his son often led to constant late arrivals for his son. “I would say ‘try not to let it happen again’, but something tells me it’s out of my hands. Oh well, at least you haven’t missed any actual lesson time this week. Go and sit down, please. Now I wonder where…”

“ Argh ! S-Sorry Miss! Mom got sick… and usually she handles the morning deliveries… so I had to take a quick detour on my way here… and…” bang

At least, that’s the sound effect there would’ve been, if a stumbling Marinette Dupain-Cheng hadn’t been caught by Adrien on her inevitable descent to the floor. Right place, right time.

Still didn’t stop her blushing like a stoplight though.

“A-Adrien!! Gulp. H-Hi. ” The blunette gave a passable impression of a fish out of water.

“Hey there! F-Funny the places we run into each other, isn’t it?” Adrien seemed equally struck for what he wanted to say.

“ Ahem !” That was the sound of an impatient teacher, who obviously had no romance in her soul and was eager to restart the headcount. “If you two are quite finished with your impromptu act, you can save it for the talent show next month. Take your respective seats so we can get on. Wait…”

Glancing at Adrien And Marinette’s chairs had revealed something unprecedented in the recent history of this hallowed halls of education. In fact, so unbelievable was it, Miss Bustier had to rub her eyes twice just to make sure what she saw wasn’t just another product of her espresso-infused imagination.

For it would appear as though young Agreste and Dupain-Cheng, by some measure the most tardy pupils Caline Bustier had ever known, were not among the last ones to arrive that incredible day.

No, that dubious honor belonged to none other than the students the aforementioned pair shared a desk with, namely Nino Lahiffe and Alya Cesaire.

W-What the… the panicking teacher’s look of astonishment was completely forgivable, as both Marinette and Adrien made good their escape. I’ve never known anything like this to happen before. It’s most unlike them. I just hope they’re okay. Maybe, if they’re not here soon, I should ask the headmaster if…

Miss Bustier’s short soliloquy was interrupted by an unpleasant shrieking noise as a familiar pair strode in. The high-pitched noise made the hairs on her neck stand on end and shattered the formerly serene atmosphere of the classroom once and for all.

“ Dahling . You know I wouldn’t go back to New York without saying goodbye to my precious Coraline, don’t you sweetheart? I might be away for quite a while this time, even past Christmas, but you understand, right? If I’m not there to personally introduce my new range of spangly negligees to the world at Fashion Week, my competitors might steal my thunder! I might even be bumped off the front page of Vogue! And you remember what I’ve told you every day, since the blessed occasion you were born, whenever that was…”

“Yes, mother. ‘If you’re not somebody, then you’re nobody.’ I get it. But do you ‘get’: my name isn’t ‘Coraline’, it’s Chloe . Coraline is that so-called kids movie we saw years ago, the one that was so scary I nearly wet… you know what, n-never mind.”

The loud screech of Audrey Bourgeois’s voice was almost enough to give poor Miss Bustier a migraine, as if the prospect of trying to teach her disruptive daughter good manners wasn’t difficult enough. Why did this have to be the one day I forgot to bring my aspirin to class with me? Tell me, what did I do to deserve this? Did I walk under a ladder yesterday? Did I crack a mirror, or step on a gypsy’s foot by mistake? Please, if I am cursed for whatever reason, let me know how I can fix it. For the love of…

“Mrs Bourgeois! What an unple… u-unexpected pleasure!” The rapidly unraveling teacher put on her fakest, friendliest face to welcome the surprise guest. “How are you? When was the last time we met? I seem to recall it was at the salon…”

“What was that? Who is this strange person heckling me, dear?” Audrey pulled down her shades to stare closer, as Chloe whispered in her mom’s ear. “Oh yes, your public school educator. Still with the red hair I see, ugh . Yes, I remember… I told her to dye her roots blonde like me if she wanted a better job than the impossible task of instructing these degenerates. Because as we all know: ‘blondes have more fun’. Isn’t that right, Chlorine?”

Whether Chloe was still sore from Audrey getting her name wrong twice now, or just plain embarrassed by her female parent’s condescending behavior, who knows. She didn’t repeat her mother’s mantra again like last time though, and instead stood there nervously with her hands in her chino pockets, portraying quite an un-Chloe lack of confidence.

“Well anyway, if you simply must know Miss… Bustier, was it?” An uninterested Audrey inquired, proving the rumor true that her daughter’s name was the only one she regularly forgot. “I was just seeing my precious off, before catching the afternoon plane to uptown New York. It’s just wonderful there in the summer, with all the glitterati in attendance for the various functions. You really must try it, darling… oh sorry I forgot: on your meager salary, it might prove to be an impossible dream. Still, we can’t all be as ridiculously wealthy as me and my husband, can we?”

“Y-Yes, I suppose so.” Miss Bustier desperately kept her sentences as short as possible. She didn’t want the dreadful woman to stay there a second longer than absolutely necessary. “W-Well, I don’t want to keep you, if you have things you need to…”

“So, these are the local children you go to school with, dear?” Deciding she was tired with Miss Bustier’s ‘rambling’, a bored Audrey fixed a critical eye over the classroom. “Well, I must say, I’ve seen far better. A poor crop if ever there was one… why your father refused to let you be privately educated is beyond me. I suspect it’s because he wants to boost his election prospects by letting you ‘mingle with the common folk’, but is it really worth it? I hate to think the effect such distasteful surroundings must be having on your delicate young mind.”

Outraged gasps erupted from all around the room, and if Chloe could’ve jumped into a fifty-foot hole never to emerge, she likely would’ve done so with relish. Alas, this was not an option, and so once more the twitching girl was forced to deal with the consequences of her mother’s shameless arrogance and total lack of volume control.

But just as even the usually docile Miss Bustier was about to say something stronger to defend her visibly irritated students, the last two attendees emerged through the door, puffing and panting as they arrived at long last. Also noticeably, covered in what can only be described as black oil stains.

First up was Nino Lahiffe, who paused slightly to catch his breath and adjust his cap. Then came his girlfriend Alya Cesaire just behind, who despite being pretty exhausted herself, began to speak “N-Nino’s dad gave us a lift, but the car broke down. We had to help him fix it…”

Suddenly Audrey Bourgeois, obviously on a roll, glanced behind her with a pronounced sneer. Upon seeing the pair in question, her expression of disapproval grew even more pronounced…

And what she said next was truly shocking. Except, maybe not her.

“Who might these ‘people’ be, then? While I think it’s laudable you’ll let just about anyone into these types of schools Bustier, I hope you realize some individuals can’t be taught. Just look at those hopeless youths, for example. Obviously from a rough neighborhood, probably down to one parent each, deprived of everything to judge by their filthy clothing, and they can’t even be in class on time. Probably wasting their lives on the street listening to ‘wrap’ music, or whatever it’s called. As if this sort even need an education, in their future careers as minimum wage cleaners or drug-dealers. Really dear, you’d be better off kicking them out and investing in school uniforms instead…”

“ That’s enough !!”

Stunned faces all around. Jaws dropping to the floor. A few people on the verge of fainting, at the identity of the person who uttered those two screamed words.

It wasn’t Miss Bustier, who was prepared to declare her response by more physical means (a hard fist to the face of an unrepentant bigoted snob, if you must know).

Not Alya, who looked just about ready to burst into tears, being held by her apoplectic boyfriend in his arms (otherwise, he might’ve formed an unstoppable tag-team with his teacher to kick some serious a**).

The surprise shouter was none other than Chloe Bourgeois, who having finally been pushed to her absolute limit at her mother’s complete lack of respect for anyone besides her own reflection, had finally snapped.

And boy, was it something to behold.

“Mom, as I’m sure anyone who isn’t you would agree, I’ve put up with a lot over the years. The insults. The dirty looks. Long absences. Always getting my name wrong. Never telling me you love me. Raising me to think ‘sacking’ anyone who disagrees with you is permissible behavior. I can tolerate all this and more, but there is one thing where I must draw the line. You want to know what that is?”

“ Must we get into this now, dear? You know I like first pick of the best VIP seats…” There Mrs Bourgeois went again, thinking this was just another conversation where she could brush off her daughter’s genuine concerns.

Well, in this case, she was about to get ‘schooled’ (pun not intended).

“Well, I’m going to tell you anyway. It’s racism Mom, plain and simple, and I won’t stand for it! Whatever problems I might’ve had with Alya and Nino in the past, and believe me there’s been plenty, I’ve never treated them differently due to the color of their skin! How shallow can you get?! And coming from me, this is the biggest of big deals!”

It was as if someone had lit a fuse underneath Audrey’s designer shoes, as the formerly unflappable woman suddenly recoiled in shock. “W-What… well I never ! How could you say such terrible things to me, Chlorophyll? Why, if you weren’t my own flesh and blood, I’d sue you on the spot! I’ll have you know, some of my best workers are blac…”

“Yeah, ‘workers’. You just made my point for me. That’s all they are to you, aren’t they? I’ve seen the way you treat them differently to even our other staff, calling them ‘tanned’ and ‘colored’ right to their faces. They don’t say anything because they don’t want to lose their jobs, and shamefully neither do I because frankly, you scare me sometimes. Well, that ends this second . The instant you behave that way again, I’ll be on you like a ton of bricks. Also, do you wanna know something else?”

“H-Huh?” Audrey’s demeanor had abruptly switched from coolness personified to utter confusion. Being called out so blatantly in front of a bunch of ‘underprivileged ragamuffins’ by her petulant child was not on the itinerary today.

“I’ll spoil it for you again. Father hates your attitude even more than I do! Whenever you finish treating the staff like the dirt under your feet, he goes to each one in turn to apologize personally. As well as give them a few extra euros that month, as if that’ll make up for the abuse they have to suffer. But look who I’m talking to! The woman who thinks Chinese and Japanese people are practically the same! And people wonder where I got such a stupid idea from…”

‘I-I…” For the first time in her life, Mrs Bourgeois was completely lost for words. All she could do was stare dumbly and numbly at her irrepressible daughter, as the young girl finished her extended lecture with a flourish.

“Finally, I suppose I should let you know about the head cook at our hotel. You know, the one who you think makes the best meals around for Daddy and his clients at short notice? Or when you have to entertain people, and she puts on a spread that’ll put any other caterer in the city to shame? That’s Mrs Cesaire, the mother of Alya over there. How do you think she’s going to feel, when she hears you racially insulted her daughter so terribly in front of her entire class? I don’t know, but if I were you I’d check my food for signs of saliva for a while. Also, put your lawyers on stand-by, because I think it may be heading for court. And if you want to know who’s side I’ll be on, here’s a clue…”

At this juncture, Chloe put her mouth to her now trembling mother’s ear to whisper sharply:

“...It won’t be yours!”

That was all it took for Mrs Audrey Bourgeois to collapse on the floor, in such a comatose state that not even the strongest smelling salts around could revive her in the foreseeable future.

...Not that anyone really wanted to do that, of course. Even the school nurse balked at helping someone who’d been so vile to the innocent students there. So, in an unconscious heap on the floor she stayed.

In the end, she missed her flight and the free expensive champagne on offer. Oh dear. How sad. Never mind.

As for Chloe, having said her piece and blithely sauntered over to her seat next to Sabrina afterwards, she was most surprised by the deafening cheer that subsequently erupted, as well as the much better treatment she got for an entire week afterwards by everyone present (even from Marinette).

As unusual as her newfound popularity was though…

She could quite easily get used to it.

If only she could master this whole ‘being nice’ thing.

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AUTHOR’S NOTE: Remember everyone, having White Privilege isn’t just about paying lip service to the concerns of minorities and posting black squares and hashtags one Tuesday to show you care…

It’s about using your advantageous platform all year round to speak up to defend those in need, whoever they are. After all. if activism was just listening to others whilst doing precisely nothing to change the world outside the confines of social media, how are we gonna change the world?

Food for thought. Hope you enjoyed the story, which (I hope) got the point across well enough. Whatever you think, let me know… and thanks for reading! :)

#chloe bourgeois #audrey bourgeois #Nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #adrien agreste #Miss Bustier #ladybug #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #blackout tuesday #blackouttuesday

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friendlyneighborhoodborg · 5 years

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Marc Appreciation Week 2019| Day 2: Hero/Villain| ”Coping Mechanism”

Okay, so I know the prompt is basically supposed to mean “this character but with a miraculous.” The backslash (/) in the prompt is meant to be taken as “or.”

But...

That’s one ambiguous backslash.

Let me know what I’m doing right/wrong. Disclaimers were in the Day 1 submission.

~1700 words, for those who care.

Chapters:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Monday was a lot smoother than Sunday. On Monday, Marc had stuff to do, including, but not limited to, school, meetings, and feeling depressed.

Few strangers would be surprised to hear that he was depressed today. After all, it had been two days since his little episode, and akuma victims generally had some sort of depressed attitude for a few days after. Anyone who knew him would be even less surprised; Marc was anything but the ray of sunshine some of his schoolmates were.

Getting akumatized was exactly the trauma he didn’t need.

It was a little bit of the dissociation he had heard other people feel. Having no memories of the event, watching the news and seeing himself as that stranger was jarring for a multitude of reasons. He saw him as someone with his thoughts and personality, basically everything that made him himself, only twisted into someone with a killing rage and the means to destroy. There was a lot of himself in Reverser, and that’s one of the things he tried to ignore from his viewing experience.

The other thing he ignored was how familiar that experience was, seeing someone with his face and emotions do things only a complete stranger would. He did often feel like he was projecting himself to the people around him, with an overwhelming need to stifle his passions to stay normal. He only felt allowed to act like himself when he was alone with his journal. Being someone else wasn’t too far off from his normal, everyday life, which is why Reverser’s power-set in particular kinda sucked.

Then the last thing he tried to brush off was the increasing number of stares he got from people who had never been corrupted. He just hated people looking at him in general. Including himself, sometimes, and the extra attention was not welcome at all.

But he was begrudgingly used to getting judged. Judging himself had even become a habit. Every morning, he’d look at himself in the mirror. He’d feel some sort of emotion, something he hadn’t quite found the right words for yet. It would fall somewhere between “Ugh, not him again” and “Well, it could be worse.” He had found that hiding his face was a good way of combating the more extreme end of the scale of loathing, so he had starting wearing makeup. And he’d do his own face in the mirror until he felt more like “Well, it could be worse.”

Point is, he didn’t like people noticing him, but he could usually brush it off.

He didn’t usually take this approach to his writing. He generally thought the writing was pretty good, especially if no one but him was going to see it. No matter what, he rarely ever wrote down his own thoughts, or if he did, they were unintended, or buried and disguised as something else.

His thoughts wandered to the journal in his backpack. The tale of a forbidden love between a hero and a former villain, the kind of workplace romance that scores a high budget and has audiences flocking to the cinema. A de-evilization gone wonderfully wrong, making the butterfly’s effects on its victim permanent, a blossoming emotions between him the heroine who saved him.

Starring the dubious alter-ego of one Nathaniel Kurtzberg, and written as the heroine from a first-person perspective.

God, he wondered what Freud would say if he was living today.

Thankfully, only one student seemed to have cottoned on that his artistic admiration went a little deeper than conventional, but even then he wasn’t sure if Marinette actually knew the full-blown extent of his crush.

‘Nope,’ he reminded himself. ‘Not thinking about that today. He’s your project partner, and that’s it, and he very obviously has a thing for strong, female superheroes.’

‘Well, that’s why you wrote from Ladybug’s POV, isn’t it?’ he argued. ‘Why don’t you admit what the problem is?’

‘That’s not the problem.’ He straightened his back. ‘I know that’s not what the problem is. And I don’t have time for this right now.’

Today, despite his constant state of internal darkness, he was early to school. And so was a certain redhead artist whose attention he duly attempted to avoid.

Poorly.

As per his double-standards.

Marc shrank as Nathan’s eyes met his and he was waved over against his will.

He didn’t appreciate being called out like this, especially not in public. But since it was him... he inched up to him.

“Morning,” Nath said, smiling.

‘Gosh dangit.’

Nevertheless, Marc was determined to keep a level head. It may have been true at one point that the wordsmith had maybe possibly harbored some potentially… problematic emotions for this boy, it was abundantly clear nothing good would come of them. It was a morose conclusion, as it usually was, but one that had to be reached for both of their goods. So, he was determined to end his crush on this artist by any means necessary.

Even if his eyes were clear blue gemstones, teeming with some unseen energy that made him want to keep looking—

‘No!’ he chastised. ‘Bad Marc!’

“You okay?” Nathaniel asked, and Marc realize he hadn’t answered him.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I’m not a morning person,” Marc admitted. Internally, he mused, ‘Or an evening person. Or an afternoon person. Really, I’m barely a person.’

Unable to see into Marc’s soul, Nathaniel continued. “Well, I hope it gets better.”

‘It rarely does.’ “You seem to be in a good mood, at least.”

“Yeah.” He scratched his head absently. “Probably not what you expected, huh? How am I supposed to be emo when I like sunshine?”

“You seem to be managing yourself just fine.”

“Thanks, I guess.” He shrugged off his bag. “So, we didn’t really do any work yesterday. Got any ideas for a story?”

“Oh.” Marc relaxed, knowing this must be all Nathan wanted from him. “I hadn’t really given it much thought. Probably the usual heroes’ dynamic at play. Ladybug, Chat Noir, and Mighty-Illustrator.”

Nath looked confused for a second. “But what about…”

“What?”

“Well,” he opened his satchel and pulled out his sketchbook, then he started flipping through it. “Look, see here.” He pointed at one page in particular.

He saw what Nathaniel had drawn.

He was suddenly aware of everyone looking at him.

When he came to his senses, he found he was hiding in a bathroom stall. Someone was banging on the stall door, trying to get his attention.

“Marc!” Nathan’s voice carried a deep concern. “I’m sorry, I should have—I mean, of course, I’m an idiot! I just…” He groaned loudly at himself, and his voice softened. “I’m sorry. I should have realized, it’s too new for you. It only happened a couple days ago…… Look, you can feel free to hate me, I didn’t think about what you’d…” He just trailed off and left them both in silence.

Marc heard him start to leave.

“How do you do it?” he asked, suddenly.

“Wh-what?”

“You turned your akuma into the hero? Why did you do that?” he demanded. “How could you do that?”

Nathaniel didn’t answer verbally. Of course he didn’t, why would he? He didn’t like expressing himself verbally.

There was a rustling of papers and something was slid under the door.

Marc picked it up. “Are you crazy? You put your sketchbook on the bathroom floor?”

“Just look, Marc.”

He did. “This is… Mighty-Illustrator and Marinette.”

There was a pause, and then, “That’s Super-Nathan.”

“Huh?”

Nathaniel explained. “Super-Nathan. I told you, I’m not good with words or names. He was… well, it was me as a superhero. That’s how he was created, and that’s what I drew him to be. I wanted to be strong and empowered and witty and do all the things superheroes get to do. I don’t know if you noticed this about me, but I don’t… I’m not strong and I’m not witty.”

“You’re pretty witty. I mean, you made this.” He realized something was off with the picture, however. “Um, I thought he was supposed to like Ladybug, though.”

“That was only after I was akumatized.”

“Oh… Wait, so then… oh.”

“Yep. Super-Nathan came first. Then Hawk Moth turned Super-Nathan into a villain. Super-Nathan became Evillustrator. Then I turned him back into Mighty-Illustrator.” He took a deep breath, and continued forward, his words blazing with a strength Marc hadn’t heard him use before. “Super-Nathan is mine. Not his. I figured this is the one way I can get back at him. Taking him back, using him to fight Hawk Moth. Fictionally, anyway.”

Marc was somewhat grateful for the door in between them. Nathaniel couldn’t see his completely floored reaction.

Marc looked down at the sketchbook in his hands. He flipped to the most recently-used page, careful not to look at any of the others.

The face of evil stared back up at him, striking a heroic pose.

“We don’t have to use him,” assured the cartoonist. “If you don’t want to.”

Marc stared back down at himself. He was only startled out of it when Nathaniel’s steps started walking away.

“No,” Marc said, stopping him. “We can use Reverser.” He hesitated. “Only… can we change his name? Like you did?”

“Well,” his collaborator mused. “You’re the writer. And it is you, after all. You think of something.”

Making sure his face was back to its normal pale, Marc opened the door. And there was Nathaniel. Marc passed him back his sketchbook. It was taken with gratitude. “We don’t have to work today if you’re not up to it still.”

Marc considered this before slowly nodding.

“Okay.” He turned to leave. “Whenever you’re ready, then, you’ve got my number.” He stopped at the door, still with his back turned. “Hey, Marc?”

A noise of acknowledgement was made.

“I don’t usually do art for anyone but myself. But…” he searched for his words, which seemed to have left him. “It-it’s nice to work with someone.” He turned back and regarded Marc, smiling. “Especially you.” Then, looking unsure of himself, he awkwardly made his exit.

Marc was now all by himself in the washroom, and he was suddenly very aware of the heat in his cheeks.

He sighed. Not out of any particular emotion, except maybe frustration.

‘Gosh dangit.’

I’m taking the mostly positive comments as a sign that I’m on the right track, so I’m just gonna keep going with this. If the other chapters aren’t as good... well, there’s worse things than this on this site. And I only finished this today, barely on the deadline, so I’ll try not to stress much over it.

#miraculous ladybug #Marc Appreciation Week #nathaniel kurtzberg #marc anciel #slight NathMarc

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peachcitt · 7 years

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an emotionally charged chap 35!!! @gigiree @luvclick @megatraven

first off, im very sorry about skipping last week i just REALLLYYYY wasn’t feeling writing i don’t even know why and i felt bad about it but here i am now wooooo!! in other news my oc story now has 20 pages and idk how to feel about that. it’s wild.

also i say this chapter is emotionally charged because DANG. i didn’t mean for all the stuff to happen but it did and honestly when do i ever plan for these things to happen. but it gets a little intense. a lot intense. oops. forgive me

Read from the beginning/where it’s originally posted here.

Story description: They say that curiosity killed the cat. But it can do a whole lot more than that.

Chapter description: The lab holds a lot of memories and a lot of secrets. Marinette wants to know it all, but Chat is keeping it all in the bag for now.

Rated: T (because some things may not be suited for some audiences... teensy bit of injury and a whole lot of emotion for this chapter)

There was an awkward silence that stretched between the three of them. Marinette’s eye twitched. Chat’s ring beeped, and he looked down at it idly. Sabrina cleared her throat.

“You have a Miraculous, too, right Marinette?” she asked, and Chat shot her a glare. Marinette didn’t get why he seemed so bothered.

“I do,” she said, pulling out the yo-yo. She could see Sabrina’s eyes track the movement, and for a moment she wondered if she should’ve lied.

“I saw on my feed that yours is a bit primitive.” Marinette raised her eyebrows. Sabrina flinched. “Not that it’s a bad thing of course, but I could install some new features to help you out on the remainder of your journey. Like texting, social media, emergency jetpack, face time, and other stuff like that.”

One of those was not like the others, but Marinette decided not to comment on it. She looked over to Chat, who was staring at Sabrina, suspicion obvious in his every feature. “Would that be okay?” she whispered to him. She liked the idea of having some more back up on the yo-yo, but she wasn’t sure if she trusted the Royal Scientist to do that.

Chat raised his chin, looking down his nose at Sabrina. She shrunk back. He seemed to go through a moment of careful contemplation, and it looked like he figured out what would be best. “Only if I get to help.”

Meaning he’d watch and make sure Sabrina didn’t do anything weird.

Sabrina didn’t seem keen to the idea, but when Marinette nodded in agreement, she sighed. “Of course.” She reached for Marinette’s Miraculous, and Marinette looked over at Chat before setting it in Sabrina’s hands. “It’ll only take a moment. Follow me,” she said, beckoning to Chat.

They disappeared from Marinette’s view, and she heard a lot of loud banging and tinkering and a lot more bickering.

She could hear Chat’s low rumble of a voice, but it was the voice he used when he didn’t want to be heard, and it worked. Marinette couldn’t discern what he was saying. She could hear Sabrina’s voice loud and clear, though.

“What do you mean you haven’t told her?” she heard Sabrina demand. Her eye twitched, and she cursed the shocks that Chloe had administered to her system. “That’s important information, Noir.” There was a pause as Chat muttered his counter argument, punctuated by a rather loud bang. “Of course you don’t have to tell the specifics – you never tell anyone the specifics – but it wouldn’t hurt to talk about it for once!”

“Don’t lecture me like you know things,” Marinette heard Chat say. They were on their way back. “I’ll tell or not tell whatever I want to whomever I please.” He sounded more annoyed than pissed, and Marinette blew out a small sigh of relief.

When the two were once again in front of Marinette again, Sabrina handed the yo-yo to Marinette. It didn’t look different, but when Marinette had it in her hands, it seemed to weigh slightly heavier. Magic, probably.

“I added my phone number in there,” Sabrina said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, “just in case you need any help with any new functions or anything like that.”

“Gesture’s appreciated,” Chat said, narrowing his eyes at Sabrina. “But I’m right by her side, and I’m just as much of a scientist as you are.” Sabrina rolled her eyes but didn’t bother replying.

“Thank you, Sabrina,” Marinette said, placing the yo-yo back in her pocket. She ignored Chat’s look. “For everything.”

Sabrina blushed deeply, portions of her body turning invisible. She pushed her hair back behind her ear. “I’m- I’m, uh, going to the, um, bathroom.” She hurried away.

“You’re too nice to her,” Chat said immediately after Sabrina was out of sight.

Marinette slapped his arm. “She helped me through Chloe’s game show of death. We’re both alive because of her.”

Chat pouted for a moment, but he seemed to be grateful enough for Sabrina’s help, and he knew better than to argue with Marinette about that kind of stuff.

“So,” Marinette said, wandering over to Sabrina’s cluttered desk and moving a paper idly, “what’s that important information Sabrina thinks you should tell me?” Marinette was not an idiot. Her eye twitched again.

She was still pretending to be innocent, and when she looked over at Chat, he had his face turned up to the ceiling, a deep sigh in the process of going through his lungs. “It’s really nothing you should worry about.”

“I’ll worry about it anyway,” she said with a shrug.

“Really, Marinette,” he said, and she realized he was serious, “it’s better for everyone the less people know about it.”

Taking her hand off the desk, Marinette turned to face him. “Once this all blows over, and we’re all safe, will you tell me?”

He gave her a pained look then, and she realized there had been no question in her statement other than the one intended. There was going to be an afterwards for them, and she believed it. “I don’t know, bug. I don’t know.”

She frowned. “If this is about whether or not we’ll both live through this-”

“That’s not what it’s about,” Chat interrupted. “It’s just…” He trailed off, blowing out a breath and ruffling a hand through his hair. “Can we look around? I want to see the rest of the lab.”

It wasn’t the smoothest segue that Chat had ever come up with, and Marinette got the point. Whatever it was, Chat planned on keeping it under wraps for an indefinable amount of time.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling at him. Her eye twitched, and she ignored it. “Let’s look around.”

---

The bottom floor was relatively bare save for the viewing screen by Sabrina’s desk, the hole that Chloe had made in the wall, and the bathroom that Sabrina had slipped into, but the top floor that they got to via the escalator seemed to be a bit more filled. It had several bookshelves of human history in different languages, and it also had bookshelves filled with fiction and comics. Those bookshelves had no label, and Marinette hoped those also weren’t considered human history.

Chat wandered through the room like a ghost, trailing his fingers over the bookshelves and the walls with a sad look on his face. To Marinette, the expression was bit… nostalgic.

She stood by what looked like Sabrina’s bed, her hand resting on the wall that opened up to the escalator going down. It had notches from a couple feet off the ground to just above Marinette’s height. She traced the notches, looking over to Chat, who was staring at a wall with that same nostalgic look.

“How long did you work here?” she asked, and Chat seemed to notice her presence for the first time since they’d arrived to the top floor.

He saw where she was standing and he drifted over to her, his fingers touching the notches in the walls. “Since I was a kid,” he said, and his fingers traced over some less deep scratches in the wall by a notch. The scratches formed a capital letter ‘A.’

“A kid?” Marinette asked, and her heart pulled at the nod that Chat gave her. He was lost somewhere in his memories, and now Marinette was understanding there were a lot of them here. She looked down at the notches near the floor.

They were height notches. To measure a kid’s growth.

“Chat…” She tried to catch his eye, her fingers brushing over the letter A beside the notch she’d been touching.

He had turned away from her, back to the wall he’d been staring at before. “This whole wall used to be a chalkboard, you know,” he said quietly. “My… my colleagues” – the word seemed to pain him – “used it for extra space, and they gave me extra chalk so that I could keep myself busy. They held a contest each week for best drawing, and I always won.” His bright green eyes seemed wet.

She moved to stand next to him, staring at the wall with him. She tried to imagine a little Chat drawing on the wall, winning drawing contests and making scientists smile. The thought made her lips turn up a little. “You liked it here?” she asked.

“I grew up surrounded by science and progress. By people that cared about the future, and… and cared about me.” He paused. Marinette didn’t trust herself to look over at him. She was afraid of what kind of face he was making. “I more than liked it. I loved it. The years I spent here were the best in my life.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in. Marinette frowned. “You sound like you’d never want to leave. So why did you?” She finally worked up the courage to look at him. His bottom lip was trembling.

Before Marinette could act on her sudden urge to hold him, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “A lot of things went wrong. Some experiments failed, and my-my colleagues went rogue. They made a lot of mistakes, and it didn’t feel right for me to come back. It wasn’t safe.”

There was a lot of information that he was holding back; that much was clear. But Marinette got the feeling she shouldn’t press on specifics, no matter how much she wanted to know. “But you didn’t, um, go rogue, right?” The phrase felt strange on her tongue. She wondered what Chat meant by that. “Why was it dangerous to come back?”

Chat reached out, pressing his palm flat on the pale yellow wallpaper, as if by trying hard enough he would still be able to feel the chalkboard underneath. “When everything went to hell, my allies shifted, and so did my way of thinking. This lab worked towards hero work, and I used to believe in that, but it never seemed practical to me afterwards. I couldn’t call attention to myself by being a hero if I didn’t want to be killed. I didn’t go rogue the way my colleagues did, but I did turn my back on Plagg.”

When everything went to hell. Throughout all of Chat’s brief explanation, that was the one phrase that had stuck in Marinette’s head. She wondered if she’d ever know the full details of what had happened.

Closing her eyes, she pressed her hand on the wall beside Chat’s. It was a prayer, and it was a promise.

“I’ll be the hero,” she said, opening her eyes to look at Chat. “I’ll be the hero,” she repeated.

Chat laughed, shaking his head. “You already are.”

He took his hand off the wall.

---

When they reached the bottom floor again, Chat started walking to go forwards, but Marinette turned back the way that they had come in. “Wasn’t there another path?” she asked, tugging on his arm. She really just wanted to go back to the save point that she remembered was there, both to get rid of the twitch she’d had ever since Chloe had electrocuted her and to save.

He frowned. “It should still be blocked off, and I don’t think even I’m charismatic enough to get them to leave.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Marinette said, already pulling him along with her. “And besides, the plan was for me to charm them away. Because we both know I’m better.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Chat said with a shrug.

It was a bad attempt at humor to lighten both of them up, and Marinette knew it. But Chat was obviously troubled by the sight of the lab and the memories it brought back, and Marinette didn’t like seeing that faraway look in his eyes. If he wasn’t going to tell her what was bothering him, she might as well try to make him feel better.

Before they stepped in front of the guards blocking the path, Marinette nudged the toe of her boot to the save point. Her twitch immediately went away and it felt like life had been breathed back into her shocked muscular system.

She hadn’t realized how much the electro-shock had affected her until it wasn’t affecting her anymore. She looked over at Chat, completely frozen next to her, that same troubled look on his face from before.

Pressing the ‘yes’ button, the world came back to life, and Marinette touched Chat’s arm. He looked over at her, raising his eyebrows and erasing that look from his face. “I have some food in the yo-yo if you need it. Since you got shocked.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Chat said, giving her a toothy grin. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“Don’t lie to me.”

His smile softened into something that wasn’t fake. “I’m being serious,” he said, taking her hand. “I heal fast.”

She gave him a once over, examining for twitches or signs of fatigue. All she got was the tired look in his eyes and the gentle downward slop of his shoulders that she recognized from the times when he was thinking too much. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

She eyed him a little more. Finally, she sighed. “Okay, I believe you.” She believed that he was physically fine, maybe in need of a quick catnap, but not mentally. But he didn’t want to talk about it – she could tell by the way he was avoiding her eyes.

Giving his hand a squeeze – one she hoped helped him know that she was there if he needed her – she stepped in front of the guards. “I’d like to go on this path.”

The two guards, faces covered and very different in terms of height, looked at each other. The taller one looked back at her and straightened. “We’re not supposed to let anyone through. Orders and junk.”

“Alya says there’s a human on the loose,” the smaller one piped in. He made a full-body gesture that seemed to go along with an eye roll that Marinette couldn’t see. “Which is ridiculous. It’s been years since a human’s been down here, and there’s no real way they would be able to survive this long, let alone get inside the Underground.”

Marinette felt a little proud. She looked back to Chat to share a nice look, but he was staring at the guards with his mouth open.

“Max?” he asked, walking up to stand beside Marinette and pointing at the smaller guard, who shifted uncomfortably. “Why are you part of the Royal Guard?”

“None of your business,” the taller guard said, shifting forward as if to shield Max from Chat.

“Didn’t ask you, Kim,” Chat said, barely offering the taller guard a glance. “Why are you a guard?” Chat asked again to Max.

“Because I want to be,” Max said, moving his head as if he was lifting his chin.

“Yeah, that’s a load of sh-”

“Chat,” Marinette interrupted, resting a hand on his arm. He pulled back, but he didn’t seem happy about it. “How about you explain to me what’s happening.” She was getting very tired of never knowing what was going on when Chat got upset.

“This guy,” Chat said, angrily gesturing to Max, “is a scientist.”

Marinette frowned. “But didn’t Sabrina say that she was the only one right now?”

“That’s because she is,” Max said, stabbing his spear into the ground and folding his arms. “I’m not a scientist, Chat.”

“You are! You love science. You told me that you wanted to be the Royal Scientist.”

There was no telling what kind of expression Max had on, but Marinette thought it might’ve been a mix between pity and embarrassment. “That was when we were kids. And besides, a lot has changed. You also said you wanted to be the Royal Scientist, and now here we are.”

Kim, the taller guard, looked down at Max with what seemed to be disbelief. “You wanted to be the Royal Scientist?” They all ignored him.

“You know why I couldn’t go back,” Chat said, shaking his head. “But it’s different for you.”

Max shook his head. “Listen, Chat, I was just as involved with the lab as you were” – Chat was already shaking his head again – “and I also believed in the old policies. I liked what we were doing before… Before we messed up.” A slight waver of confusion appeared in his voice. “I couldn’t do the experiments that King Plagg wanted, so I just left the lab.”

“You could’ve changed things!” Chat said. He was getting more upset. Marinette wondered if she should intervene.

“And what are you doing?” Max demanded, seemingly undeterred by Chat’s anger. “Being a bum in the Royal Guard, lazing around the entire Underground? It’s like you don’t even care that your p-”

“I knew my place,” Chat interrupted, his words a growl that Marinette imagined had scraped his throat coming out. “And you should’ve known yours. You could’ve stopped Plagg. You. Could’ve. Fought. Back.”

At the last word, green light burst from Chat’s body, surrounding him in a sickly green aura dotted with black that radiated a deadly heat. Marinette backed away from him, almost not recognizing him with the rage that had distorted his features.

Both Max and Kim had stumbled backwards, and Kim raised his spear towards Chat. “That’s enough,” Kim said, pointing the spear at Chat’s chest. Chat grabbed the shaft of the spear, but he didn’t do anything to actually start a fight. Where his hand was touching the spear, the metal started to look as if it were rusting and flaking away.

Kim turned his head to Marinette. “I’m sorry, little lady, but you’re going to have to leave.” He really did sound sorry, but when he turned back to Chat, she saw his amicable nature disappear. “And take Chat Noir with you.”

“I will. I’m very sorry,” Marinette said, easing back towards Chat, wary of his green and black aura. Glancing at the slowly decaying spear, she reached out to try and touch him, try and ease him away but the light burned her fingers. She yelped, pulling back.

Her yelp seemed to bring Chat back to himself because he let go of Kim’s spear and looked away from Max, finally looking over at Marinette. His aura disappeared immediately, and he reached towards Marinette.

She pulled away on instinct, her fingertips throbbing and burning. When she saw the intense wounded look of regret pull across his features, she reached forward again, but with her other hand. “Hey, hey,” she said, gently touching his arm, “let’s go, okay?”

“I’m so sorry,” Chat said as they started to walk away, back towards the lab. He sounded like he was about to cry. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Marinette looked down at her injured fingertips. It looked like the top few layers of skin had simply disintegrated, leaving behind a horrible mess of blood and what looked like bone. She shut her eyes tight and clenched her fist, ignoring the pain. “It’s alright. I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not,” Chat said as they walked back into the lab, hanging his head. “I… I lost control. And I hurt you.”

The lab was still deserted, and Marinette looked around. There was a package of instant noodles on Sabrina’s desk next to a bunch of others, so Marinette took one and opened it up as quickly and quietly as she could. She broke off a little portion of the uncooked noodles from the square and stuffed it in her mouth, chewing on the dry noodles and watching as a new layer of pink, raw skin grew over the disintegrated bits of her fingertips.

She went back to Chat and hid the package of noodles behind her back, showing her newly healed fingers to Chat. “You did,” she admitted, making him look at her fingers. “But look. It’s not that bad.”

He looked up at her, his expression lost, and Marinette thought of the utter mess her fingers had been only a moment before. “It could’ve been, Marinette. It could’ve been really bad.”

“But it wasn’t,” Marinette said, lying a little bit. The sensation that had overcome her fingertips as soon as she had touched that green dotted black aura was unlike any other she had every felt. She was glad she had pulled away instantly, or else she felt like that disintegration would’ve spread throughout her whole body.

Shaking his head after staring at her for a moment longer, he ruffled a hand through his hair and walked ahead of her to exit the lab. She took that opportunity to stuff the noodles into the storage compartment of her yo-yo.

Jogging a little to catch up, Marinette caught Chat’s hand in hers, wincing a little as her new skin brushed against the leather of his glove. He seemed to almost pull his hand away, but she held firm, walking beside him.

“Can…” Marinette was almost afraid to continue, but she took a deep breath, gathering up her courage. “Can I ask what that aura was?” she asked. Chat’s steps slowed to a stop, bringing her to a stop as well, just outside of the lab.

He lifted their conjoined hands, keeping his eyes on that instead of her face. “Everyone down here holds a certain sort of magic.”

“Right,” Marinette said, nodding her head. “Akumas are basically made of magic.”

A small smile pulled at his lips, and his eyes flicked up to meet her gaze before going back to their hands. “Correct. Obviously I’m no exception. I’ve got some magic in me.”

“And that – that green and black light? That was your magic?”

Chat moved their hands so that he could see the ring on his ring finger. Marinette could feel it pressing into her skin. “It was some of it. A magician always has other tricks up their sleeves, right?”

“Right,” Marinette said. They didn’t start walking again. “Chat?”

“Hm?”

“What is your magic?”

He sighed, and his head dropped even lower than it already was. “It’s called Cataclysm.” There was a pause, and he released a small and bitter laugh. “Ha, get it? Cataclysm?”

Marinette didn’t think it was that funny, and neither did Chat.

“What does it do?”

Chat lifted his free hand, making sure it was away from both of them, and that same green and black aura burst to life around his hand, but it wasn’t like before. It only circled his hand, and he seemed to have total control of it. “This power can destroy anything I touch.” He looked up, finally holding her gaze. “It wasn’t just named for the pun. It can cause cataclysms.”

The aura around his left hand disappeared, and he dropped his arm. Marinette squeezed the hand she had a hold of, and then she brought his hand up to her lips, giving each knuckle on his hand a kiss. He shivered, dropping his head to touch their foreheads together.

“It seems like you can only cause cataclysms if you want to,” she murmured against his hand. “But you don’t want to.”

“Magic is an emotional force,” Chat whispered, and it seemed like that was the only volume of voice he could manage at the moment. “It can be affected by the user’s intense emotions, and it’s easy to lose control. I lost control earlier.”

Marinette gave his hand another kiss. “But you didn’t cause a cataclysm. You still had control, even if you thought you didn’t. You didn’t hurt anybody on purpose, and you didn’t destroy anything.”

That seemed to be exactly what Chat needed to hear. His breathing stuttered, and he brought their hands down. There was nothing between them except for their shared breathing space. Marinette could feel Chat’s breath brushing on her lips. She closed her eyes.

A loud ding sounded from Marinette’s pocket, and it startled the two of them apart.

Pulling out the yo-yo and sliding it open to the phone function, Marinette saw it was only a notification from a social media site that Sabrina had signed her up to. It looked like Sabrina had posted something about forgetting to watch Marinette and Alya’s fight.

Marinette blew out a breath, not sure of what to make of the situation. She combed her fingers through her bangs, trying to push down the blood that had rushed to her cheeks. “Sorry,” she said, not sure if she should apologize, but doing it anyway.

Chat cleared his throat, also running a hand through his hair. His ears twitched. His face looked a bit red. “It’s cool.”

How the hell was she supposed to clear the awkward air that now surrounded them? She was very sure that going back to whatever they had been about to do was out of the question, but she wasn’t sure where else to go.

She decided to go back to what they had been talking about before. “Don’t, uh, don’t akumas’ type of magic have something to do with how they turned? So, like, how-” She stopped, suddenly realizing in horror how intrusive that question was and mentally kicking herself for it.

“It’s a boring story, bug,” Chat said, placing an easy grin on his face and linking their arms. “You’d hate it.”

Marinette didn’t think that, but she was glad he seemed to not be offended by her stupid question. “Oh, really?” she asked, forcing herself to relax and not let her skin buzz where the sleeve of her sweater was making contact with the leather of his suit.

“Yes, really.” He started to walk forward, pulling her along until she matched her pace. “Now I believe we have a mission to complete.”

The thought of continuing to walk in this horrible heat made Marinette want to curl up on the spot. “Can’t we take a break?”

“You had your break. Ate some noodles and everything.” She gaped at him, and his grin softened a little as he winked at her. “And sweetheart, I do think we should save the world sooner rather than later.”

A grin of her own pulled at her lips, and she walked a little closer to him. “Darling, I couldn’t agree more.”

#miraculous tale #miraculous tale fic #EVIL LAUGHTER #yeah i know it's torture but despite the fact that i don't plan for stuff like this i do have a good plan of the general idea #which includes the certain moment that did not happen but could've here #so it's all in good time my friends #actually i think it might be soon #but knowing how long it takes me to do stuff idk #this chapter was all about chat oops #but that's okay i like hinting at all the stuff he had to go through #im actually thinking about making a prequel of sorts to explain what happened (because either way im explaining what happened)#(i just was never sure how)#but we'll see #and get it get it #in the chap description it's that cat out the bag saying stuff #HA im hilarious #im going on vacation tomorrow too and im what the kids calll HYPED #me and my family are going to HARRY MOTHER HECKIN POTTER WORLD #IM SO EXCITED AAAAA WERE GONNA GET OUR WANDS AND DRINK BUTTERBEER AND BE NERDS AND ITLL BE GR E A T #my whole life has been leading up to this moment tbh #if they ever make a percy jackson world you can bet my ass will be there #speaking of pjo #have you guys heard of the pjo muscial???? it apparently is a thing and ive heard clips of some of the songs and IM CRY #ITS SO BEAUTIUFL #like the first song is so. aaaaAAAAAA #I DIDN'T WANNA BE A HALFBLOOD (COOL GUITARS AND STUFF)#they're selling CDs with all the songs and tbh i want one #no. i NEED one #i want to see the musical but im not sure if they're still making rounds or if i missed my chance in which case. bye im dead #maybe i can watch a bootleg but i wanna support the cast and the beautiful people who made it

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