Let's be real: Does Keith actually know any other way then charge right in and tackle his problems to the ground?? 😂 (Staff meetings are probably very interesting)
I got struck with an idea and I had to draw it. Nathaniel is the holder of a frog Miraculous, more design and info about him and his powers can be found in this post: http://saijspellhart.tumblr.com/post/171440221031/frog-miraculous-nathaniel-kurtzberg-hero-name
The joke is from the first Power Rangers movie: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Aql_fYL7Wwc
You may not copy, repost, edit, or anything without my permission.
And here is a drabble written by @aknazer! (Fairia). Read under the cut!
“What’s wrong, Nath?” Ladybug asked sweetly, lingering on the rooftop when the others disappeared. Carapace paused, looked back, and seemed to assess the situation. Offering a silent salute, he dropped his shell and drifted away.
“I don’t think the others like me.” Nathaniel muttered, trying not to sound disappointed. He really didn’t have any place to complain.
“They like you fine.” Ladybug assured him.
“Rena and Chat made fun of me.” Nathaniel replied. “Like, complete with sound effects and jokes about frog legs.”
“That was them saying they liked you.” Ladybug rolled her eyes. “They’re just goofs. Next time, stick them with a dart - they’ll shut up.”
“Queen Bee…” Nathaniel shuddered.
“She’ll warm up.” Ladybug replied. “It took her three months to warm up to Chat and Rena. She doesn’t really like anyone, she tolerates us.”
“And I’m a frog.” Nathaniel whined despondently. “You guys all get cool animals, like foxes and cats and turtles. I’m not even green!”
“You’re a poison dart frog.” Ladybug pointed out. “I don’t think it really gets much cooler than that.”
“That’s still not going to stop the croaking noises.” Nathaniel hated himself for whining about being a superhero, but Rena’s sly remarks and Chat’s teasing humor had hit a little too close to home. “I’m still a frog.”
“Yes, a frog. Like the ones you kiss to get a handsome prince.” Ladybug smiled at him as he raised his eyebrow at her skeptically, and leaning forward, pressed her lips to his forehead.
Nathaniel’s jaw went slack even as his face went up in flames. He was probably as red as his suit…
“Goodnight, Nath. Don’t worry about the others too much - they’ll come around.” Ladybug hooked her yo-yo off in the distance and smiled at him over her shoulder. “And seriously, next time stick them with a dart. It’ll be hilarious.”
Offering him a wink, she slung off into the night.
Submission by Aknazer. (Thank you again!) Find the first part to this series here. Table of contents for the AU in general here.
FanCanons - Shiro
Shiro Has A Past, and no, he’s not telling.
Shiro knows that Lance has inherent elemental abilities, despite the other trying to hide it. He also knows that without any (or very little) formal training, Lance is a hot (cold?) mess with them. Despite not understanding Lance’s obstinacy about admitting to them, Shiro respects that and starts leaving random instructional texts lying around for Lance to stumble over.
At twenty-seven deca-phoebs (years), Shiro is the youngest Captain of the Royal Guard ever. Despite the reservations of the Council, Alfor appointed Shiro to the post, and Shiro has worked hard ever since to prove that the King’s trust is well placed.
Shiro’s made a few questionable decisions - taking a half-Galra foundling under his wing being the most notable. Taking on an uppity kind-of-maybe-not-really noble with a history of insubordination was another. Introducing the two just to watch them fight was the third.
Shiro has no regrets about assigning Lance to guard Pidge: he figures that his two biggest headaches deserve each other.
“What do you think this is, a holovid? Stop charging me - you’re telegraphing every move in advance.” Shiro said, knocking Lance’s sword out of his hand with a practiced twist and slapping the pommel of his own blade against the younger man’s wrist. Ignoring the boy’s pained yelp, Shiro used the toe of his boot to kick the sword away. “Again.”
“Oh my gods, you are a slave driver.” Lance whined, shaking out his hand and glaring. “It’s barely a varga after sunrise!”
Shiro raised his eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And?”
“And you’ve had me out here since before that!”
“Good to know your eyes are working.” Shiro said mildly. “Now if only you would open your ears.”
“I hate you.” Lance grumbled, trudging over to where his sword lay in the dust.
Shiro ignored the insult, knowing that Lance didn’t really mean it. Well, he amended privately, perhaps he did right now - Lance was a lot of things (not all of them complimentary), but a morning person was not one of them. Before about 1000, the only thing Lance didn’t hate was his bed. (Coincidentally, Shiro had found that nearly 70% of his insubordination reports occurred before lunch.)
“Now,” Shiro instructed as Lance resumed his stance across from him, “let’s try that again - without the dramatic flailing this time.”
Lance gritted his teeth, eyes glinting dangerously, and Shiro repressed a grin. Good - he was getting to him. Without warning, Lance pushed off with his back foot, sprinting the short distance between them and swinging his broadsword into a short, overhead arc. Shiro blocked, letting the blade slide down and off his own before snapping his sword parallel to his body to block the short stroke aimed for his neck.
From here, he had two options: step back and slide their blades apart to prepare for the next strike, or step in and tangle their handguards, making it a contest of brute strength to hold onto the sword. Last time, he’d stepped in, and Lance had decided to try to overpower him.
Lance danced back as Shiro stepped in, sliding out of range with a scowl. He let Shiro knock his blade aside, using the momentum to bring the blade up into an overheard block as Shiro advanced.
“Good! You’re getting better at this.” Shiro praised, then brought his foot up and kicked Lance in the stomach, driving him back. Lance flailed as he lost his footing, sword dropping automatically as he stumbled and tried to regain his balance. Shiro moved aggressively forward, slotting his leg between the stumbling recruit’s and sweeping his ankle around to drag his foot out from under him. Lance hit the ground with an oomph, sword clattering out of his hand as his head hit the ground.
“Still got a ways to go, though.” Shiro observed, standing over the fallen young man. Lance glared, mouth twisting into a snarl, and Shiro’s eyebrows lifted as the air chilled around them. Not much - just a few degrees, but Shiro was familiar enough with elementals to recognize the signs.
Well, he thought faintly, how about that?
“Do you just drag me out here every morning to beat on me so you feel good about yourself of something?” Lance snapped. “There is literally no other reason for this.”
Shiro’s blinked, refocusing on the young man still sprawled on the ground in front of him.
“Sure there is. Someday, you’ll even figure out what it is.” He replied affably, knowing his genial tone would only annoy the other man more. “Now…again.”
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Shiro figured out pretty quickly that the best way to keep Lance out of trouble was to keep him occupied. And, barring that, too tired to be bored enough to look for it. For the first few weeks, Lance’s schedule had been split between drills with Shiro and diplomacy with Coran. Then Lance had been shifted to physical training four days, and diplomacy two. Finally, physical training five days in the morning, with guard duty in the afternoons and diplomacy on an as-needed basis.
It was, Shiro often reflected, like dealing with an okami pup - you had to wear their energy down to a manageable level before trying to teach them anything. Then you had to convince them that what they were learning had a purpose, and wasn’t just useless fluff. (And even if it was useless fluff, that they just had to shut up and do it once in a while.) Fortunately, Shiro had experience with dealing with distracted, disinterested cadets: it just took the right application of physical exertion, followed by mental exertion, and keeping their interest by keeping them challenged.
“What the heck is this?” Lance squawked, jolting upright as Shiro dropped a text in front of him.
“Olkari delegates are arriving next movement.” Shiro replied. “Study up.”
Lance squinted at him suspiciously, and Shiro knew he was trying to guess whether he would be actually escorting/guarding the delegation, or simply guarding the doors. Shiro had set him to both tasks, telling him to “study up” every time. Lance had neglected to do so before, and it had led to him making a fool of himself by offering the wrong salutation when he’d been unexpectedly assigned to escort duty after a week of guarding doors.
The embarrassment, Shiro knew, was a better goad than any reprimand he could have delivered.
Shiro sat down at his desk, flipping open his own book and pulling out a ledger to take notes with. The silence lasted for about twenty dobashes before Lance leaned back in his seat, groaning.
“This is boring…” He whined. “When is lunch? Is it lunchtime? I feel like we should have eaten already.”
“What’s the gesture to greet the Kahnzada Nawab Ishmuil?” Shiro asked without looking up from his book.
“Bow.” Lance replied. “Straight neck, torso bent to twenty degrees. Right hand on left shoulder, palm in.”
“Where do your eyes go?” Shiro asked.
“On the floor…no!” Lance jabbed a finger at him, grinning victoriously. “Trick question! I’m a guard, so I keep my eyes on his waist to watch for weapons.”
“Good to know Coran’s lessons are paying off.” Shiro chuckled.
“Um, no?” Lance scowled. “Coran was going over place settings for a Balmaran dinner party.”
Shiro blinked. “But…Balmarans don’t have dinner parties.”
“That’s what I said!” Lance threw his hands up in the air. “But did he listen? No! He was all ‘Tsk tsk, young cadet, I’ll have you know that I’ve dined with many a Balmaran noble in my youth and-’” Lance broke off, hand flapping in a universal blah blah blah gesture. “I’m pretty sure he was confusing Balmarans for Rephodians, but I don’t know how.”
Shiro snorted in quiet amusement, flipping to another page idly.
“So, what are you reading, anyway?” Lance asked. “I mean, you already know all that crap about the Olkari, budgets were done last movement, and your report - which I know you’re going to have me type up, stop lying - isn’t due for another three quintents.”
“Mm?” Shiro glanced up at him. “Oh, this? It’s a book on basic studies for elemental magics.”
Lance froze. It was only for a tick, and then he was leaning on one elbow nonchalantly, glancing at his book like he couldn’t care less. “Oh, yeah? What do you need that for? Got something to share with the class?”
Shiro snorted. “Not likely. No, Alfor’s niece is a budding Plant Master, and she’s driving her guards crazy.”
“What, is she throwing seeds at them?” Lance sniggered.
“I wish.” Shiro frowned. “No, she’s eluding them to try to train on her own. I was hoping if I gave her some more…benign exercises, she’d stop trying to escape.”
“Give her some houseplants.” Lance grunted, flicking a page over. “Problem solved.”
“We did that.” Shiro rolled his eyes. “Two exploded, one grew out of control, and one caught fire.”
Lance’s gaze snapped up, jaw going slack. “It…it caught fire? How do you even do that?”
“No clue!” Shiro groaned. “I was hoping that this book would give me some insight but… I think it’s too generalized. General exercises, and I think she’s blown through or overpowered the green magic ones. Huge section on water magic, but that does me no good.”
Shiro leaned back in his chair, grasping the bridge of his nose in mostly-feigned exasperation. “I’m heading to the canteen. Want anything?”
Lance hummed thoughtfully. “The usual.” He held out a few losa, but Shiro waved them off, closing his book and setting it on the edge of his desk.
Lance stayed in the office.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Shiro couldn’t check out too many tomes outlining elemental magic studies without arousing suspicion. Luckily, there were a plenty available within the city’s markets, and Pidge was happy to direct him to ones that she had found useful. And if they happened to find homes in his office shelving, well, that just made him look more official to the people who thought looks mattered.
And if some of them disappeared after he’d finished reading them, Shiro pretended not to notice.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
“You’re going to what?”
“Introduce him to Keith.” Shiro repeated patiently.
“That’s what I thought you said.” Matt swirled his ale in his mug as he regarded his friend steadily. “The way you say this leads me to believe that you don’t mean over a nice cup of mead, or a friendly hologame.”
“Correct.”
“And the reason for this is because…?” Matt asked, rolling his wrist, gesturing for his friend to continue.
“Lance isn’t really being challenged anymore.” Shiro sipped his drink. “I’m too busy to take him on daily like I was at first, but he’s good enough that he’s giving my lieutenants a run for their money. Which, don’t get me wrong, is good - it keeps them on their toes, but also means that I need to find a better challenge for him.”
“So your solution is to haul in Kogane.” Matt said.
“Not ‘haul in,’” Shiro huffed, “his detail on Javnil is almost up, and he’ll be back soon anyway.”
“You’re going to put your no-nonsense, super-serious, I-wouldn’t-know-humor-if-it-bit-me pupil in a ring with Lance.” Matt repeated.
“Why do you make it sound so crazy?” Shiro muttered rebelliously. “Keith is one of the best and he’d definitely provide a challenge for Lance. And Keith does have a sense of humor.”
“So set him to a new weapon! Rotate him into sparring with the rest of the troops. You don’t have to keep him on broadsword and with the Guards.” Matt rolled his eyes. “You know this - I know you do. So, the logical conclusion is… you’re looking for an excuse. You want Keith and Lance to meet. Stop obfuscating and fess up.”
“Pulling out the big words now.” Shiro muttered. “Alright, fine, full disclosure: I think that the SpecOps unit isn’t doing Keith any good. Not physically-” Shiro waved Matt off as he opened his mouth, “Physically, he’s in his element. I mean…he’s more withdrawn. Less social, if that’s possible, even amongst his teammates. It’s weighing on him.”
Matt leaned back in his chair, studying Shiro closely. Shiro let him, knowing that Matt was every bit the bright mind his father and sister were. Processing time was a part of that, before brilliance emerged.
“You’re an idiot.” Matt said bluntly, ignoring Shiro gaping to take a long draw on his mug. “I know what you’re trying to do. And putting Keith and Lance in a ring together might work out in your favor - Lance may indeed prove to be a valuable foil to Keith’s seriousness, and the two might eventually become fast friends. But they might also tear each other’s throats out before they get around to reconciling their differences.”
If you enjoyed “Something Familiar,” and would be interested in a possible look at this version of Marichat ten years after that story, in an explicit (but so sweet and fluffy) situation, you’ll want to check out chapter 21 of @aknazer‘s Be Naughty (Save Santa the Trip)!
I’ve gotta say, I wasn’t sure where she was going to go with the yule prompt and this world, but turned out so fantastic.
Costume: Royal purple legs and arms, red body, black belt and dart holster, black markings on the mask, purple streaks on the the tips of his hair.
Weapon: Blow gun and poison darts. (Dart affects change depending on his will, numbing, tranquilizer, medicine, etc.)
Kwami: Ranna (genderless, deep melodic masculine voice, prefers male pronouns)
You may not copy, edit, repost, or anything without my permission.
I needed to design a frog miraculous so I could make a joke for a short comic. Nathaniel was the lucky candidate. Also between @aknazer and I this really got out of hand. Here is a link to the comic:
So here is a fun drabble about Frog Nath written by @aknazer! (Fairia) Keep reading!
Chat was in fine form tonight. Nathaniel was pretty sure that everyone was ready to wring his neck…except for Rena, but then again, she was his go-to partner in pranking. Nathaniel eyeballed the fox, who stood off to the side, smirking as she watched Chat Noir (attempt to) cajole Ladybug into kissing him.
“But Bugaboo…” Chat whined, and Ladybug rolled her eyes. “There’s a competition up on the Ladyblog! One hundred euros to anyone who can get a picture of a LadyNoir kiss! Don’t you want to win?”
“Ok, first off, stop using that stupid ship name.” Ladybug snapped. “I’m not dating you. We are not a couple. Second, why the heck do you want a hundred euros? You’re loaded. No, don’t lie to me - anyone who casually talks about going to St. Barts for summer vacation does not need a hundred euros. And third, I won’t let myself be bullied into kissing anyone.”
Chat blinked. “…I’ll split the prize money with you?”
Ladybug’s eyes flared in outrage as she sucked in a breath. She opened her mouth and Nathaniel noticed that everybody flinched. Ladybug, however, didn’t speak. She studied the nervous-looking boy before her…and smirked.
“La Grenouille?” She said sweetly, shooting him a sly look. “Remember what I said?”
Nathaniel blinked, surprised at being addressed. Then grinned, unfolding his crossed arms, one hand snaking up to unholster his blow gun. He had it in hand and was raising it to his lips even as Chat opened his mouth, brow furrowed in confusion.
Chat froze, going stiff as the needle of the dart penetrated his suit and lodged firmly in his backside.
“Really, Greninja?” He muttered, even as his limbs relaxed and he dropped to the rooftop with a dull thump. “Blow dart. In my butt cheek.”
Nathaniel twirled his blow gun. “What can I say, except-”
