Miraculous Episodic Shorts Series (UPDATED WEEKLY) - In this series, I (a fool) attempt to write a short story based before, during or after every single episode of Miraculous, showing short and sweet moments, natural continuations, different perspectives from a variety of characters and more. Have a poke around the M.E.S.S. Master List and see what takes your fancy, or read from start to finish and tune in weekly for the next episode. :)
Paper Boats:
Under the Crying-Tree - A hurt/comfort LadyNoir fic; a story of love, loss, letting go, and the consequences of keeping secrets, as Ladybug discovers the pain of her partner's past and Chat Noir finds the strength to face it, with his best friend's hand in his.
Under the Weight of the World (Work in Progress) - A hurt/comfort whump fic set after the Crying-Tree, Ladybug's plan to take control of her and her partner's destinies is pulled forward when a terrible akuma slaughters the boy she loves.
Worth the Wait - A hurt/comfort MariChat reveal one-shot, in which Chat Noir supports a grieving Marinette who mistakenly believes that she has not only compromised her relationship with Adrien, but also her secret identity as a superhero.
Crossovers
DC + Miraculous
BatNoir AU (Work in Progress) - When Adrien Agreste is dragged to Gotham City by his father to attend a gala at the manor of the one and only Bruce Wayne, the young hero is quickly faced with the realisation that all is not as it seems. When his miraculous is palmed by none other than the infamous Selina Kyle, he might have thought that he was faced with the worst of his problems, that night. He was very, very wrong.
Star Sapphire!Chat Noir AU (Work in Progress) - Isolated, abused, neglected; when Adrien Agreste is faced with the worst night in the worst year of his life, beaten and finally broken by the one man who was supposed to love him unconditionally, his fragile heart, near-defeated, screams out to the universe, begging, pleading for the love he has always been so ready to give and yet, never able to receive. The universe answers: For hearts long lost and full of fright.
Other
Moonberry Juice - A post-TTM, The Dragon Prince one-shot centred on Callum missing his gf and generally not doing too well.
Panzerliebe - A Fallout 4 ficlet; Piper x Sole Survivor.
20th march, mass Tumblr log off in protest of the reblog update
Remember when we threatened a mass log off to get rid of shapes.inc and then all the shapes.inc ads mysteriously vanished? yeah, let's do that again. On the 20th of march 2026, we tumblr users will log off in protest of the split notes on reblogs. Spread the word!! Reblog!! Tag your moots!!
Side note: tag yapping doesn't seem to count as an addition to the OG post, you can use that to carry out conversations.
The reblog chain is one of the things that makes Tumblr unlike anywhere else. All the notes on reblogs are attributed to the original post, no matter which branch people actually liked or reblogged. We want to keep encouraging conversations, and give contributors the recognition they deserve.
Soon, you'll be able to like, reblog, or reply to any part of a reblog chain, and that note will go to that reblog's author. Each reblog will have its own counts, instead of one aggregated number from every version of the post. And yes, you’ll be able to like multiple posts in one chain.
If a reblog doesn't add anything, the love flows up to the last person in the chain who did. Your post doesn't lose notes just because people spread it quietly.
Past notes will stay on the original post — we're only changing what happens from here on out. Retroactively re-attributing all of them would be... a lot.
This is just the beginning. More changes are coming as we keep building this out – stay tuned!
This one is a little angst/fluff fic set a few days after the episode.
Features Xavier Ramier (Mr. Pigeon) and Ladybug. Mentioned Chat Noir!
‘Mister Pigeon.’
There was a time that Xavier Ramier would have loved that moniker.
Adored it, even.
Yes, he was ‘Mister Pigeon’, the weirdo. ‘Mister Pigeon’, the kook. The crazy. The funny bird man who was oft to be spotted running from disgruntled park rangers, all for the lowliest crime of showing his avian friends the love, kindness and respect that they deserved; that every living thing, great and small, deserves.
If he’d earned it any other way, he’d have carried it as a badge of honor, even if he knew that it was being put on him as a term of derision; disrespect. Yes, he’d love to be ‘Mister Pigeon’.
Just… not like this.
“Hey Mista Pigeon!” The voice of a young boy hollered across the street, and Xaviar sunk in on himself a little as he stuffed his hands into his jacket pocket. “Dude, look, it’s Mista Pigeon!”
“Hey, pigeon-man!” another boy called.
“Shouldn’t you be building a nest somewhere?!” They were getting closer. Xavier picked up the pace a little.
Ever since that day, the ridicule had been unrelenting. Oh, sure, being akumatized made you just as much of a victim as anyone else in these attacks… but only if you were likeable, or deemed respectable, or at the very least, found worthy of pity.
Xavier Ramier was rarely considered any of these things. He was just the weird bird man. That his supervillain persona was also considered the most ridiculous to date didn't help matters any; he’d even made the Bubbler look good.
“Hey Mista Pigeon! Why you waddling away?!”
“Pigeons don't waddle, bro…”
“Shut up! Hey, where're you goin’?!”
“J-just leave me alone!” Xavier cried, waving a dismissive hand in the general direction of the approaching boys. “I'm b-busy! Very busy!”
“But why?! We just wanna join you!”
“We do?”
“Yeah! We're just like you!” Xavier turned around, eyeing the approaching duo incredulously. They were both young, certainly no older than seven or eight. One of them had in his hand a chocolate ice cream on a stick, which was drawn back past his head. “We just wanna feed the birds!”
He laughed as he chucked his sweet treat at the rattled man, who stumbled back in an attempt to avoid the assault on his laundry.
But as it turned out, he needn't have bothered, as before it was able to hit him, a blinding bolt of red and black intercepted it, smashing it out of the air and onto the road.
And there she was, dropping out of the sky and landing between the children and their quarry like a guardian angle:
Ladybug.
The one and only.
The boys lost their minds with glee.
“Ladybug!” they yelled, overjoyed, as they ran up to the heroine. “Ladybug! Ladybug!” One of them fumbled around in their pocket, producing from it an ice cream wrapper and a pen. “C-can I have an autograph?! Please?!”
She eyed down the boys, reeling in her yo-yo with a deft flick of the wrist, before standing up straight and extending a hand to them.
He held his wrapper and pencil out to her…
… only to gasp, wide-eyed, as she picked only the former from his hands, scrunching it into a ball and depositing the litter into her yo-yos compartment.
She stared down at them, her face the very image of stern, as she put her hands on her hips.
“Naughty boys don't get autographs,” she chided.
“Wh-wha…?”
“Naughty boys, who go around harassing people in the streets, don't get autographs. Do your parents know that you're out here?”
“Uh… umn…” The boys suddenly found the ground at their feet very interesting.
“How would you feel if someone threw ice cream at you, hm?”
“W-we weren't—”
“I’m very disappointed in both of you,” she uttered, her voice steeped in judgement, and the two children shrunk in on themselves. Nobody wants to disappoint Ladybug; her young fans least of all.
“B-but—” One of them tried.
“Hm?” she cut him off.
“We were just—”
“Huh?” she interrupted.
“I didn't—”
“No, see, I'm waiting for an apology, young man.” She crossed her arms.
“... Sorry…” they mumbled out meekly.
“What was that?”
“I-I'm sorry, Ladybug,” they said, a little louder.
“Good, now say it to Mr. Ramier. And look him in the eye.”
The boys fought to pull their eyes from the ground to look up at the disgruntled man.
“Sorry, Mr. Ramier,” they chorused in a hollow way.
Xavier didn’t respond; made no effort to accept it, let alone offer forgiveness. He did stand a little straighter, however.
“I better not catch you being rude to people again,” Ladybug said. “Nobody likes a bully. Now…” She waved them off. “Go home and think about what you've done.”
The lads didn't argue, taking a few tentative steps back before scattering off in different directions.
“Look before you cross the road!” she called. “AND STAY IN SCHOOL!!!”
Xavier gawked at the young girl, who stood, his back to her, as she watched the boys run off.
No sooner than they'd left her view, she spun around on her heel, any signs of anger stripped from her features, replaced only with concern.
“Are you okay, Mr. Ramier?” she asked, softly.
“Oh, ah, yes. Yes, quite. Th-thank you, Ladybug. You, uh…” He tried on a cheerier tone. “You’ve saved me, once again! I’ll just be on my way!” He began to turn. “I’m sure you’ve got more important matters to attend to than—”
“I’m sorry I never checked in with you,” she hurried to interrupt. “After the attack.” He stopped. “I… was so caught up with my own stuff, I never even thought to… make sure you were okay.” He turned back to the girl, who was peering down at the ground rather sheepishly, not unlike the boys had been. “So… I’m sorry about that.”
“No no, that-that’s perfectly fine. And besides, Chat Noir already did his little, uh… ‘supervillain welfare check’, earlier. Talked to me; even brought a treat for Edgar and his friends, though— oh!” he looked about warily, making sure the coast was clear before continuing. “He told me not to tell anyone that.” Ladybug smiled.
“My lips are sealed,” she said, warmly.
“Gave Morticia quite the scare, though!” he laughed. “Flew onto his arm to say thanks, and he sneezed right on her! Did you know that he’s allergic to feathers? I couldn’t imagine…”
“Oh, trust me, I’m perfectly aware.”
“Apparently his allergy made him more of a liability than an asset during my… tenure as a supervillain,” he said, casually. Her smile faded.
“Well, it was… inconvenient, but I’d never call him a liability. He’s my partner; I couldn’t do this without him.” Xavier nodded, his expression warming.
“How fortuitous that you should have him, then!” he said, clasping his hands together. “He seems to think you’re better off without him.” Her frown dipped down into something akin to horror.
“He said that?”
“Well, not in so many words, but— wait…” he crossed his arms, his eyes rolling up to the sky as he slipped into a moment of deep thought. “Actually, he said it in exactly that many words. Hrm… we also had a surprisingly enlightened conversation on the importance of keeping cats indoors… discussed how I might be able to justify Edgar as a service animal— Oh! And did you know that pigeon feathers as accessories are coming in vogue? Why, he told me all about this hat—”
“Hold on, hold on. Back it up, Mr. Ramier,” she approached a little. “What did Chat say about himself? In relation to me and/or our partnership?”
“Hm? Oh, uh, well, something along the lines of… well…” He fidgeted. “Maybe I shouldn’t say. Our conversation… he didn’t say it was in confidence, but—”
“I’m his partner. And his friend. If things aren’t alright with him, I should know. For Paris’ safety.”
“Then why not talk to him?” he asked, to which Ladybug had no answer. “Maybe you could call him? I think he’d like that. He seems pretty… lonely, to me. He told me himself that he’s jealous of all the friends I have.”
“... Meaning the pigeons?”
“But of course!” He grinned. “He told me how nice it was that I looked out for them! But the way he said it…” He softened. “I can’t help but wonder who’s looking out for him…”
“I am,” she murmured as she pulled her yo-yo from her belt, opening it up and pressing some buttons on the display. “Always…” She looked up at him from her yo-yo. “Are you okay, now, Mr. Ramier? I think I need to go and take your advice.” He smiled.
“Of course, Ladybug, of course. Give Chat Noir my best. Oh! And keep up the good work! Paris is in good hands.”
With a wave, she darted away from him, slipping into the nearby alley with her yo-yo to her ear.
I have such a soft spot for miraculous fics, AUs, and comics made like s3 and back. like. there's a simplicity to them that's so nice and refreshing and comforting. i love the new lore we have so very much (...mostly), but the early days of miraculous will always be so special to me,,
Same tbh. I know that a lot of my writing is centred in that time. Hell, even if something I'm writing isn't *specifically* set in that time, the vibes are still there.
Did you just legitimately tell me that a person who draws wolf ass is more competent than a dude who spent 8+ years in a university to give you your lung transplant?
doctors are bullshit and furry artists perform an infinitely more valuable service to society compared to them
It took doctor’s like 10 years to diagnose what was wrong with me, some insisting I was faking for attention while a furry artist I knew just went “that sounds like crohn’s” after hearing me complain once and ended up being right
Also I can’t go to a doctor and ask them to draw Rouge the Bat wider than she is tall with tits to match, now can I
[ID: a comic illustrating the above thread as if it was happening in a theater. The users are mostly shaped like their icons, pukicho is a pikachu and hokuto-ju-no-ken is a gengar. The last panel is gengar looks back where a speech bubble comes out of the crowd to say, “you could if you weren’t a fucking coward.” /end]
Project Update: Paper Boats Pt. 2 and M.E.S.S. Ep. 7
I am happy to report that Paper Boats: Under the Weight of the World (sequel to Under the Crying-Tree) is fully written and has just gone through its first round of editing! Won't be long now.
I try to take a bit of time between editing runs to refresh my brain, so the next item in the works is this week's helping of the Miraculous Episodic Shorts Series! Episode 7: Mr. Pigeon. I already have an idea of where I'm going to take this one, so I don't expect the process to be too long.
Anyway, this has been my attempt at justifying this blog a little over my AO3. I'll try and post project updates semi-frequently from here on out, should anyone be interested.
This one is an angsty little tragedy that takes place after the Ladybugs repair the damage done at the end of the episode.
Features Ladybug and Tikki.
Trigger Warning: Major Character Deaths. This is a sad one; you've been warned.
“Miraculous… LADYBUG!” the two girls called out, summoning the power of their miraculous as the rope they’d used to tangle their foes was tossed up into the air.
It exploded into a glorious swarm of magical ladybugs that blasted about the place, and as the miraculous insects approached the girls, they both looked to each other, all smiles.
“Pound it!” they said in unison, knocking fists as they were engulfed in light.
Then, Ladybug found herself alone, arm outstretched to nothing and no one.
And all was… quiet.
Eerily so.
She looked around, expecting to find Chat Noir and one of the Alixes where she’d last seen them, but alas, her surroundings seemed to be completely deserted, at least, at first glance. She heard someone shift behind her.
“What… happened…?” Timebreaker asked, and Ladybug spun on her heel, hand hovering over her yo-yo, only to find that no, it wasn’t Timebreaker she was faced with, but her schoolmate. “Where is everybody?” Alix muttered, looking around. “And…” She patted herself down. “My watch?! My pocket watch, where…” Her eyes froze on something behind the hero. “No!” she yelled out, scrambling to her feet and rushing past her.
Alix collapsed onto her knees near the edge of the track, where her race had started earlier. Ladybug felt something cold grip her heart, like a silent knowing; something was wrong.
Everything was wrong.
“Chat Noir?!” she called out.
“I’m right here, m’lady,” said no one, for he was gone and she was alone.
“Alya! Kim! C-CHLOE?!” she cried. “No, no this can’t be happening. They’re alright… I saved them…” she told herself, hoping against hope that maybe… maybe the power had worked. Maybe they simply ran, scared, before she noticed. Maybe Chat Noir’s timer was about to go and he had to split…
But no; she knew better.
He hadn’t used his power — not here, anyway — and Chat Noir would never leave the scene without trying to waste as much of her time as possible, first. Alix shifted onto her behind, cradling the shattered remains of her pocket watch in her hands. The pocket watch she’d fixed.
But not here; not in the time she came from.
But in the time that Alix had created; the alternate timeline that she’d dragged her to.
And when her other self used the Miraculous Ladybug, it corrected everything over there, including… sending them back to where they’d come from. She looked over to where her lucky charm traffic cone had been left, but of course, it had been left over there, not here. Had it been swept away with the ladybugs, or was it sitting uselessly in a timeline she had no way of reaching?
She took out her yo-yo.
“L-LUCKY CHARM,” she tried, tossing it up into the air.
The weapon spun uselessly above and clattered down to the ground before her, without even a lick of magic pouring forth from it.
Her miraculous beeped, warning her of the oncoming detransformation.
She could hardly care.
Chat Noir… Alya… her best friends were…
They were… gone.
But surely there was a way to bring them back; to undo the damage. She’s Ladybug; it’s what she does. She picked up her yo-yo and threw it out, zipping up to the top of the palace. Once there, she detransformed, catching her weary kwami in one hand and rifling through her bag with the other.
“Marinette… what happened? Something feels… off.”
“It all went wrong, Tikki, but we can still fix it. I just need you to eat, okay?” She held a cookie up to the kwami. “We need to power up and use the Miraculous Ladybug to fix everything.” The little ladybug took the cookie from her and bit into it, crunching away, but her face didn’t bear the usual bliss she took from enjoying her sweets. Quite the opposite, in fact. She swallowed.
“I’m sorry, Marinette.”
“For w-what? Just keep eating, Tikki. We can’t waste any—”
“Has the akuma been defeated?”
“Y-yes, but we couldn’t—”
“Then I’m sorry, it’s too late. With the catastrophe resolved and your powers spent… even if you summon a new lucky charm, you can’t… it won’t work.”
“No… no! You’re wrong! W-we have to try.” The kwami continued eating. Then, she looked up at her holder, her large eyes practically dripping with despondent sympathy.
“It was Chat Noir, wasn’t it? He… fell…”
“Keep eating, Tikki!”
“I can feel it; reality is imbalanced. Destruction has subsided. Plagg is trying to rematerialise, but without his miraculous… he’s… gone,” she said, sadly. “For now.” She swallowed the last chunk of her meal. “I’m sorry, Marinette, but—”
“Spots on!” Ladybug called, and no sooner than she was back in uniform was she summoning a lucky charm. Her yo-yo exploded in a flash of pink light above her, and it spat out a red and black-spotted bauble.
A bell.
His bell, or her miraculous’ best effort at replicating it, anyway.
She ran her thumb over it, shaking her head with determination.
‘No,’ she thought. ‘This is not how it ends.’ She tossed the bell up into the air, calling upon her secondary ability. “Miraculous Ladybug!” she cried.
The bell fell back into her palms with a familiar little jingle. The breath left her body.
Still, she tried again.
“M-Miraculous Ladybug!!” she screamed, sending the thing up into the stratosphere. Again, it fell back down to her. “Miraculous Ladybug!” Again, she tried, and again, the lucky charm remained, for now that the foe was gone and her transformation reset, the status quo was solid; immutable; set in stone. There was nothing to be fixed, for the world was now as it was going to be.
But she had no way of knowing that; of understanding the arbitrary, unfeeling rules that wove space and time and fate together. So, she continued, unrelenting.
“Miraculous Ladybug!” Nothing. “MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!!!” Nada. “M-mirac… please… please…” she pleaded to an uncaring universe, her voice shaky and sore, “... Miraculous Ladybug…” Zilch. She fell to her knees, holding the oversized bell against her chest. “Don’t do this… come on…” She tossed it up once more. “Miraculous Ladybug.”
She caught the bell in a now-practiced motion.
And then, she collapsed onto her side, a wobbly sob bursting from her lips with a dispirited splutter, as if she were expelling her soul to join theirs.
To join Chat.
Alya.
Kim. Rose. Mylène. Sabrina. Chloe.
She should have joined them.
No, she should have been in their place.
Chat Noir gave his life to save hers, and for what?
It didn’t have to be this way, surely. She should have grabbed for her lucky charm before her counterpart — her heroic, successful counterpart, whose life was still full of the people she cared about — used her power; maybe she would have brought it back with her.
Or maybe not. But if she’d thought about that before being dragged back here, at least she would have found out, either way. She curled up into the fetal position, that stupid, dramatic, cutesy bell of his pressed against her throat.
And she screamed in a horrible, guttural fashion, her eyes screwed shut to block out the world as she drowned in her new reality.
She’d failed.
She’d failed her friends.
She’d failed their families.
She’d failed him.
She’d failed Paris.
And yet, through some cruel twist of fate, she was still here.
This one gets dark! Here we have an angsty fic taking place early in the night after the events of the episode, starting outside Théo's workshop.
Features Chat Noir, Ladybug and Théo Barbot.
Trigger Warning: Implied/mentioned grooming, stalking. Implied paedophilia, contains no sexual content.
Chat Noir soared high above the glistening streets of the Paris night as he split his weapon in two, extending them down to catch the ground and take a couple stilted steps in the sky to clear the rest of the distance to the building he’d meant to land on.
He longed for the day when he had enough experience to not make these miscalculations, both in his traversal ability and in his dumb, stupid decision-making. Copycat’s akumatization was his fault, he knew. But he also knew that his heart had been in the right place, even if Ladybug didn’t understand that.
His feet hit the rooftop overlooking the studio where he’d been captured earlier that day, and he put his baton back up to his ear.
“Sorry, m’lady, made a little misstep. You were sayi—”
“I’ll say!” she seethed over the line, and Chat Noir grit his teeth, both at her words and at the realisation that his quarry didn’t seem to be home. “You told him we were together! That we were a thing, whatever that means!”
“You weren’t there, bug.” He crouched down to make himself small; invisible in the darkness. “Guy looks like he’s twenty-something and he was just… fawning all over you. It grossed me out.”
“W-well he can’t know how old I am. That not his f—”
“Buggaboo, if there is one, single thing that is clear about our identities, it’s that we’re both underage. You can’t be any older than… what, fifteen? Fourteen?” There was silence over the line. “Thirteen?”
“I’m not— I can’t tell you that. You’re in the ballpark, okay?”
“Then you get my point. Look, I know now that I shouldn’t have lied, but the alternative was that I clawed his face off — metaphorically speaking — on camera. In front of a crowd, and all of Paris, right next to the mayor. I was just trying to steer him away from you.”
“The alternative was that you did nothing, Chat.” He sighed, rubbing at his eyes with his offhand. “What was he gonna do? Spam-call my yoyo? And it’s not your job to protect me!”
“I’m your partner, bug. If I have one job—”
“If today proves anything, it’s that I don’t need your protection! And I don’t want your protection, for that matter!”
“Look, I agree with you, Ladybug. I do,” he said, trying his best to sound as passive as possible. “But the day I stop trying is the day I need to hang up the tail. I just couldn’t look away from that, okay? It’s not how I’m programmed.
“Men like that… they look at kids like us and decide that they have to have us. And they don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and they don’t stop. You wave them off and smile them away and suddenly th-they’re turning up at your house, at your work a-and recording you when you least expect it, then the police get involved and your father is lawyering up and suddenly you’re just entrenched in a world of—”
“Chat… what the heck are you talking about?” He bit his lip.
He really should keep all that to himself.
“Just trust me, okay? You gotta take a hard line with guys like that, or they’ll never leave you alone. We might be superheroes, but we’re still kids, you know? We aren’t invincible.”
“Look, whatever… just never antagonise a civilian again, okay? Please?”
He crossed his fingers behind his back.
“Sure, bug. Whatever you say.”
“Okay, good. Goodnight, Chat Noir.”
“Goodnight, m’la—” The line cut off. “ —dybug… ah.” He sighed. “So that went well.”
He briefly considered whether or not he should go on with the harebrained scheme he’d concocted. Was this really for the best, or was he just angry over his own unresolved issues?
He steeled himself.
If there was a time for this, it was now. If he left it till tomorrow, Hawkmoth would have had enough time to recharge, and then monsieur Barbot would be akumatized all over again.
Though… he did say that he’d leave it alone. What was it Ladybug had said, earlier? ‘Liars are losers. Chat Noir may annoy me to pieces, but he’s never lied to me.’
The sound of hurried footsteps — running — dragged his mind away for a moment and he looked back down at the street below to watch the plagiaristic Parisian he’d fought hours before enter into his workshop, carrying in his arms rolls of paper, stationary and other equipment. He looked excited. Inspired.
Chat Noir’s lips curled into a scowl.
“Welp… I guess I’m a loser, then.” There was a first time for everything, after all. Though, if Ladybug never found out, her confidence in him wouldn’t be shaken, would it?
But he’d know.
He reconsidered again, briefly. Whenever she claimed to trust him, have faith in him, he’d know it was misplaced. But if he let this go and Théo did find a way to get to her — to harass her with his misplaced affections, in even the tiniest capacity — and he didn’t make an attempt to prevent that?
To prevent even an inkling of what he went through; the price of his fame? For existing in the limelight as Adrien Agreste?
Any thoughts of guilt were washed off of him by a wave of newfound resolve. He clicked a button on his baton and placed it back on his belt.
He leapt off his perch with all the strength he could muster and flew over the road, slipping through the still-open skylight in his descent. He hit the ground with a mighty crash, the concrete below cracking under his knee, and the artist yelped in surprise, turning towards the noise and finding…
… nothing.
“H-hello?” Théo squeaked. “Hello?! Who’s there?!”
Nothing. Nobody.
He was alone.
Perhaps something had fallen? Yes, that must have been it. He was safe, and alone, and—
“Whatcha workin’ on?” The artist screamed out at the voice that chirped up from right next to his ear, and he twisted, terrified, in its direction, coming face to face with none other than…
His alarm faded. His horror turned to anger.
… that jealous little brat.
“You? What the heck do you want?” he said, glaring down at the boy. Chat Noir tucked his hands behind his back as he stepped past the man, making a show of looking around the shop.
“Théo, buddy, what’s with the venom? I thought we were cool?”
“I could call the police. This is breaking and entering!”
“Well, if you wanna get technical about it, I didn’t break in, I just… fell through your skylight. Haphazardly. You really should close it, Barbot. You’re bound to let in all kinds of birds, bats… mangy alley cats. Ooh, that rhymed.” He turned to the man. “Besides, who’s going to take Théo Barbot, the ‘Copycat’s’ accusation against moi seriously?”
The artist gritted his teeth.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Oh, I’m here doing my friend a solid. See, Ladybug is a girl with a lot on her plate. She doesn’t need creeps like you bothering her.”
“Creep?! No, you have it all wrong, Chat Noir. I love her! I’m in love with her. And I’ll prove it!” Chat approached the man and though his posture and expression didn’t change, something shifted behind his eyes, and it unnerved him.
“Take it from someone with his fair share of admirers,” he started, and then, his tone shifted into something angry, plainly threatening, “she’s a kid. You’re like twenty-five or something. Whatever you think you feel, it isn’t love, and nothing good will come of it.”
“I-I’m eighteen! Not twenty-whatever! However o-old she is, we’re close enough in age that I’m willing to wait—” Chat Noir lunged forward and grabbed at the man’s jacket, and the artist yelled out, terrified, as he was flipped over and sent tumbling to the ground.
“Oh, good,” Chat growled. “That’s fine, then!”
The man scrambled back, eyes wide in fear as Chat Noir crawled towards him, animal-like, his face marred by fury. His eyes, wild.
“S-stop! You— you’re just jealous of us! Of what we could have!”
“Oh, sure, soulpatch. Nothing like a groomer with a man-bun to get the jealousy boiling up inside. Hawkmoth gave you power and the first thing you thought to do with it was chain down a child in your workshop!” He stood over the man and grabbed him by the jacket once more, leaning down to him with his claws extended, the workshop lights making the metal glisten above his foe. “Tell me, did you craft that trap for me, or did you have it just lying around, ready for use?”
“I-I didn’t, I mean, I… it—it’s not, it wasn’t—” Chat Noir curled the claw into a fist and brought it down on the floor beside the man’s head, and he screamed out in horror as the concrete cracked as if struck by a sledgehammer. “Please, please wait! I’m sorry! I-I—”
“I don’t care!” Chat Noir seethed. “You will leave her alone. You won’t talk to her. You won’t talk about her. You won’t make anything in her image. Or it’ll be more than this floor that I crack in two. Do you understand?”
“B-but—”
“I WILL LEVEL THIS BUILDING!” Chat Noir raged. “I will tear it down and turn everything it contains to dust! I will find everything that you’ve ever so much as had a hand in making, and I will reduce them down to their component molecules and when I’m done, I will find you, and take the time to consider how badly I want to know what a cataclysm does to a man!”
“I-I…!” The artist tried to speak, but he was petrified. Tears brimmed his eyes.
“And when I’m done with you, I will release this recording,” Chat sneered as he pulled the baton from his belt and pressed a button on the display. “Or snippets of it, anyway.” He hit the playback, and Chat’s own words echoed back at them.
‘She’s a kid. You’re like twenty-five or something. Whatever you think you feel, it isn’t love, and nothing good will come of it.’ Then, he fast-forwarded a moment and it was Théo’s words that played next.
‘— we’re close enough in age that I’m willing to wait —’ He pressed pause.
“Imagine that one going viral over the Ladyblog. Do you understand what’s happening here? I will be watching you very closely, Théo Barbot.” He leant down until they were almost nose-to-nose. “I will destroy everything you have and everything you are, right down to the memory of you, if you so much as utter her name. This is your one and only warning, pervert. Do not make me come after you.”
He released the man and took a step back, peering around the room. At the drawings, photos, half-finished statuettes, so many of them of the girl he loved; the girl who wouldn’t see him. Who wouldn’t see what he’d do for her.
Théo only looked up at him, still paralysed by fear.
“All of this will be gone by tomorrow, Théo. Anything with her face, her name, polka-dots, I don’t care. Anything that’s even a passing reference to her. If I check in and see that you haven’t done as I have told…”
“I get it…” he whimpered. “I understand. I won’t give her any trouble, I promise.”
“Good,” Chat Noir uttered sharply. “Because if you think she hates liars, well, you haven’t seen nothing yet. Get it done.” He looked up at the skylight above. “And consider leaving town. Because all it will take is one slip-up.”
He extended his staff and launched up into the sky.
And he was gone.
Only then, once alone, did Théo Barbot allow himself to cry.
These short snippets are such an awesome idea ❤️ I love what you’re doing and how you’ve humanised every character so far (except the kwamis!). Let Chat get angry!
I'm glad you're enjoying them! I hope I keep doing them justice with tomorrow's episode. If you thought this episode was dark with the angry kitty, well... let's just say that I think I outdid myself in that regard.
Rewatching Timebreaker for my Miraculous Episodic Shorts Series and I just noticed for the first time that Alya...
Girl, who have two whole shirt pockets right there; you really couldn't have born the brunt of your shirt having a lump on one side in favour of giving the priceless family heirloom entrusted into your care to... the most habitually clumsy person you know?
This one gets dark! Here we have an angsty fic taking place early in the night after the events of the episode, starting outside Théo's workshop.
Features Chat Noir, Ladybug and Théo Barbot.
Trigger Warning: Implied/mentioned grooming, stalking. Implied paedophilia, contains no sexual content.
Chat Noir soared high above the glistening streets of the Paris night as he split his weapon in two, extending them down to catch the ground and take a couple stilted steps in the sky to clear the rest of the distance to the building he’d meant to land on.
He longed for the day when he had enough experience to not make these miscalculations, both in his traversal ability and in his dumb, stupid decision-making. Copycat’s akumatization was his fault, he knew. But he also knew that his heart had been in the right place, even if Ladybug didn’t understand that.
His feet hit the rooftop overlooking the studio where he’d been captured earlier that day, and he put his baton back up to his ear.
“Sorry, m’lady, made a little misstep. You were sayi—”
“I’ll say!” she seethed over the line, and Chat Noir grit his teeth, both at her words and at the realisation that his quarry didn’t seem to be home. “You told him we were together! That we were a thing, whatever that means!”
“You weren’t there, bug.” He crouched down to make himself small; invisible in the darkness. “Guy looks like he’s twenty-something and he was just… fawning all over you. It grossed me out.”
“W-well he can’t know how old I am. That not his f—”
“Buggaboo, if there is one, single thing that is clear about our identities, it’s that we’re both underage. You can’t be any older than… what, fifteen? Fourteen?” There was silence over the line. “Thirteen?”
“I’m not— I can’t tell you that. You’re in the ballpark, okay?”
“Then you get my point. Look, I know now that I shouldn’t have lied, but the alternative was that I clawed his face off — metaphorically speaking — on camera. In front of a crowd, and all of Paris, right next to the mayor. I was just trying to steer him away from you.”
“The alternative was that you did nothing, Chat.” He sighed, rubbing at his eyes with his offhand. “What was he gonna do? Spam-call my yoyo? And it’s not your job to protect me!”
“I’m your partner, bug. If I have one job—”
“If today proves anything, it’s that I don’t need your protection! And I don’t want your protection, for that matter!”
“Look, I agree with you, Ladybug. I do,” he said, trying his best to sound as passive as possible. “But the day I stop trying is the day I need to hang up the tail. I just couldn’t look away from that, okay? It’s not how I’m programmed.
“Men like that… they look at kids like us and decide that they have to have us. And they don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and they don’t stop. You wave them off and smile them away and suddenly th-they’re turning up at your house, at your work a-and recording you when you least expect it, then the police get involved and your father is lawyering up and suddenly you’re just entrenched in a world of—”
“Chat… what the heck are you talking about?” He bit his lip.
He really should keep all that to himself.
“Just trust me, okay? You gotta take a hard line with guys like that, or they’ll never leave you alone. We might be superheroes, but we’re still kids, you know? We aren’t invincible.”
“Look, whatever… just never antagonise a civilian again, okay? Please?”
He crossed his fingers behind his back.
“Sure, bug. Whatever you say.”
“Okay, good. Goodnight, Chat Noir.”
“Goodnight, m’la—” The line cut off. “ —dybug… ah.” He sighed. “So that went well.”
He briefly considered whether or not he should go on with the harebrained scheme he’d concocted. Was this really for the best, or was he just angry over his own unresolved issues?
He steeled himself.
If there was a time for this, it was now. If he left it till tomorrow, Hawkmoth would have had enough time to recharge, and then monsieur Barbot would be akumatized all over again.
Though… he did say that he’d leave it alone. What was it Ladybug had said, earlier? ‘Liars are losers. Chat Noir may annoy me to pieces, but he’s never lied to me.’
The sound of hurried footsteps — running — dragged his mind away for a moment and he looked back down at the street below to watch the plagiaristic Parisian he’d fought hours before enter into his workshop, carrying in his arms rolls of paper, stationary and other equipment. He looked excited. Inspired.
Chat Noir’s lips curled into a scowl.
“Welp… I guess I’m a loser, then.” There was a first time for everything, after all. Though, if Ladybug never found out, her confidence in him wouldn’t be shaken, would it?
But he’d know.
He reconsidered again, briefly. Whenever she claimed to trust him, have faith in him, he’d know it was misplaced. But if he let this go and Théo did find a way to get to her — to harass her with his misplaced affections, in even the tiniest capacity — and he didn’t make an attempt to prevent that?
To prevent even an inkling of what he went through; the price of his fame? For existing in the limelight as Adrien Agreste?
Any thoughts of guilt were washed off of him by a wave of newfound resolve. He clicked a button on his baton and placed it back on his belt.
He leapt off his perch with all the strength he could muster and flew over the road, slipping through the still-open skylight in his descent. He hit the ground with a mighty crash, the concrete below cracking under his knee, and the artist yelped in surprise, turning towards the noise and finding…
… nothing.
“H-hello?” Théo squeaked. “Hello?! Who’s there?!”
Nothing. Nobody.
He was alone.
Perhaps something had fallen? Yes, that must have been it. He was safe, and alone, and—
“Whatcha workin’ on?” The artist screamed out at the voice that chirped up from right next to his ear, and he twisted, terrified, in its direction, coming face to face with none other than…
His alarm faded. His horror turned to anger.
… that jealous little brat.
“You? What the heck do you want?” he said, glaring down at the boy. Chat Noir tucked his hands behind his back as he stepped past the man, making a show of looking around the shop.
“Théo, buddy, what’s with the venom? I thought we were cool?”
“I could call the police. This is breaking and entering!”
“Well, if you wanna get technical about it, I didn’t break in, I just… fell through your skylight. Haphazardly. You really should close it, Barbot. You’re bound to let in all kinds of birds, bats… mangy alley cats. Ooh, that rhymed.” He turned to the man. “Besides, who’s going to take Théo Barbot, the ‘Copycat’s’ accusation against moi seriously?”
The artist gritted his teeth.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Oh, I’m here doing my friend a solid. See, Ladybug is a girl with a lot on her plate. She doesn’t need creeps like you bothering her.”
“Creep?! No, you have it all wrong, Chat Noir. I love her! I’m in love with her. And I’ll prove it!” Chat approached the man and though his posture and expression didn’t change, something shifted behind his eyes, and it unnerved him.
“Take it from someone with his fair share of admirers,” he started, and then, his tone shifted into something angry, plainly threatening, “she’s a kid. You’re like twenty-five or something. Whatever you think you feel, it isn’t love, and nothing good will come of it.”
“I-I’m eighteen! Not twenty-whatever! However o-old she is, we’re close enough in age that I’m willing to wait—” Chat Noir lunged forward and grabbed at the man’s jacket, and the artist yelled out, terrified, as he was flipped over and sent tumbling to the ground.
“Oh, good,” Chat growled. “That’s fine, then!”
The man scrambled back, eyes wide in fear as Chat Noir crawled towards him, animal-like, his face marred by fury. His eyes, wild.
“S-stop! You— you’re just jealous of us! Of what we could have!”
“Oh, sure, soulpatch. Nothing like a groomer with a man-bun to get the jealousy boiling up inside. Hawkmoth gave you power and the first thing you thought to do with it was chain down a child in your workshop!” He stood over the man and grabbed him by the jacket once more, leaning down to him with his claws extended, the workshop lights making the metal glisten above his foe. “Tell me, did you craft that trap for me, or did you have it just lying around, ready for use?”
“I-I didn’t, I mean, I… it—it’s not, it wasn’t—” Chat Noir curled the claw into a fist and brought it down on the floor beside the man’s head, and he screamed out in horror as the concrete cracked as if struck by a sledgehammer. “Please, please wait! I’m sorry! I-I—”
“I don’t care!” Chat Noir seethed. “You will leave her alone. You won’t talk to her. You won’t talk about her. You won’t make anything in her image. Or it’ll be more than this floor that I crack in two. Do you understand?”
“B-but—”
“I WILL LEVEL THIS BUILDING!” Chat Noir raged. “I will tear it down and turn everything it contains to dust! I will find everything that you’ve ever so much as had a hand in making, and I will reduce them down to their component molecules and when I’m done, I will find you, and take the time to consider how badly I want to know what a cataclysm does to a man!”
“I-I…!” The artist tried to speak, but he was petrified. Tears brimmed his eyes.
“And when I’m done with you, I will release this recording,” Chat sneered as he pulled the baton from his belt and pressed a button on the display. “Or snippets of it, anyway.” He hit the playback, and Chat’s own words echoed back at them.
‘She’s a kid. You’re like twenty-five or something. Whatever you think you feel, it isn’t love, and nothing good will come of it.’ Then, he fast-forwarded a moment and it was Théo’s words that played next.
‘— we’re close enough in age that I’m willing to wait —’ He pressed pause.
“Imagine that one going viral over the Ladyblog. Do you understand what’s happening here? I will be watching you very closely, Théo Barbot.” He leant down until they were almost nose-to-nose. “I will destroy everything you have and everything you are, right down to the memory of you, if you so much as utter her name. This is your one and only warning, pervert. Do not make me come after you.”
He released the man and took a step back, peering around the room. At the drawings, photos, half-finished statuettes, so many of them of the girl he loved; the girl who wouldn’t see him. Who wouldn’t see what he’d do for her.
Théo only looked up at him, still paralysed by fear.
“All of this will be gone by tomorrow, Théo. Anything with her face, her name, polka-dots, I don’t care. Anything that’s even a passing reference to her. If I check in and see that you haven’t done as I have told…”
“I get it…” he whimpered. “I understand. I won’t give her any trouble, I promise.”
“Good,” Chat Noir uttered sharply. “Because if you think she hates liars, well, you haven’t seen nothing yet. Get it done.” He looked up at the skylight above. “And consider leaving town. Because all it will take is one slip-up.”
He extended his staff and launched up into the sky.
And he was gone.
Only then, once alone, did Théo Barbot allow himself to cry.
