I know I haven’t posted for a while and it is not because I have dropped this-
I have been in a funk dealing with the sudden loss of my mother this year and finding the emotional and physical energy to write has been a challenge.
I have never known a pain this great, and it eats at me every day.
I empathize with Adrien; losing your mom and not being given a clear explanation how or why it happened is life shattering.
I feel so much grief but also unrelenting anger at everything around me, and a resentment towards people around me and on social media or the news or even in public… People who live filthy lifestyles and smoke and drink and eat junkfood, older people in poor health… why are THEY still alive, when my mother is not? It isn’t fair.
There are awful people in this world; junkies, terrorists, racist politicians in their 80’s… they all deserve to die, yet they continue to live unnecessarily long while good, kind people who should still have decades ahead of them, die for no good or apparent reason.
How can you NOT hate such an ugly world? How can you not want others to suffer as much as you in compensation? How can you ever dream of being happy again when the one person who loved you the most in the entire world was ripped out of it too early without warning?
EmoAdrian is justified in wanting to destroy the world around him. A world without the warmth of your mother deserves to burn down.
Working on writing the first Hero Shadybug and Claw Noir fought. It’s rather long so in order to save space, I wanted to describe the costume’s finer details here, along with reference pics. If anyone is a talented artist and is accepting commissions, I would be most grateful~
Mireille Caquet as kamikotized hero “Faerie Weather”
Her design is a combination of her weather powers and a korean “fairy” from folklore, a tribute to her korean heritage as well has a pun on “Fair weather” which is the opposite of the “Stormy Weather” akumatized villain that Hawkmoth created.
(In the universe of Shadybug and Claw Noir, Aurora became the weather girl instead of Mireille, but rather than being bitter about it, she is supportive of her friend but wishes there was something she could do when terrible weather conditions threaten to destroy a very important event)
Her hairstyle is the same but her hair is now a pale lavender and her eyes a golden sun yellow. Instead of her normal human ears, she has long, pointy, elf-like ears that stick out of her hair for a cute, pixie-ish effect.
She wears a korean hair band and the ornament in the middle of her forehead looks like the sun peeking out from behind a gray cloud and there are 3 strands of blue, raindrop shaped beads that hang down. (See reference photo for hair ornament placement)
Via make-up, her face is just slightly paler than her usual color and she has more pink peachy blush on her cheeks than usual, a bold, bright lucky red lipstick (to symbolize strength), and peachy-red and white eye make-up that is dramatic but modernly stylish rather than traditional. (See eye make-up reference photo)
Her costume is similar to hanbok (traditional korean wear) with the jeogori (top) being a bright sky blue with white trim and canary yellow ribbon bow. There is sparse embroidery on the blue section and it looks like fluffy white clouds with an occasional rainbow. Sleeves are traditional shape and length.
The chima (skirt) is shorter than traditional length, like a casual modern hanbok style or that of a magical school-girl (but not pleated or ruffled) it comes to just above the knees but the majority of the upper thigh is still covered because while Mireille is a modern teen, she still dresses modestly because that is her comfort level.
The skirt is white, as is her leggings- not only because it symbolizes purity and innocence, but because white hanbok in korea represent resistance and petition against injustice and abuse of authority (it does not symbolize death like a white kimono does in japan).
There is very little embroidery on the bottom edge of the skirt and it looks like golden outlines of shining suns. (Optional if you think it looks too busy)
Her shoes are traditional unhye in canary yellow- to represent taking action.
(These are to incorporate the 5 colors of korea which is found in most traditional wear, with the exception of black (death) which has been replaced with the pale lavender for a gentler look.)
Her item that contains the kamiko is a traditional rounded hand fan, dandeon.
The tasseled knot hanging from the bottom of the fan is rainbow. The picture painted on the paper part of the fan changes depending on the power she wishes to use- if she wanted to use the power of wind, she would spin the handle to flip the fan to the other side and you would see a picture of a gust of wind blowing away clouds. For rain, flip again and the picture changes to dark clouds with rain falling, etc. Then it is simply a matter of waving the fan in the direction she wishes the selected weather to go, just like how in canon, Stormy Weather/Climatika had to point her parasol to direct her powers. Please draw a weather symbol of your choice. It should be simple and cute- like the kind you would expect a teen weather girl to show the forecast on a map.
She does not fly with wings, but like an asian dragon does not fly but rather grabs clouds to crawl across the sky, Fairy Weather steps on tiny blue balls of flame (no bigger than tennis balls) like stepping stones. (This is another nod to old Korean folklore).
She still has Mireille’s gentle smile.
Unlike the garish/clownish villains that Hawkmoth creates, the kamikotized heroes that Betterfly creates are beautiful/handsome/cute and actually stylish.
Just in case you’re curious how much of a slow burn the romance is post-reveal…
It’s obvious how Marinette recognized Adrien; his face is on every other billboard and magazine ad in Paris.
But how does he know her?
There are at least 2 acceptable answers here-
A.) They go to the same school and have passed each other in the halls (only half true.)
B.) Her parents own his favorite bakery and he just happened to see her through the window once or twice (or ninety six times).
Both are perfectly normal and not at all creepy responses.
Instead, the so-called teen heart-throb panics and, smooth as gravel, blurts out:
“YOU STOLE MY UMBRELLA!”
….There is dead silence for three whole agonizing minutes as Marinette stares at him like he is insane because she has no clue what he’s talking about.
“Remember? It was the second day of school???”
That was several months ago, but Marinette vaguely recalls it was raining that day.
(Wow, talk about a petty grudge!)
“Um, sorry, I guess?”
“…It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”
She won’t, but he will-
He’ll also lose sleep over the next few days as he curses himself out for being an idiot because who says that to a girl?! STUPID, STUPID, STUPID!!!!
Some world building and character info for the Re-Verse and how it affects Marinette, Adrien, and Gabriel before we get into the next Kamikotized hero.
Peace was never an option… It was an ultimatum.
While World Peace Day is celebrated everywhere, truly, only Capital Cities are able to host the full splendor of such a magnificent event.
Paris is famous for never being outdone when it comes to this extravagant and cherished celebration:
Throughout the day, on every corner of the city, you could find a rare sight you would not see any other day of the year- flower carts.
Usually, flowers were too expensive for just anyone to purchase, so florists only sold the finest, most delicate and exotic flowers to appeal to the high class.
But on World Peace Day, cheap, less popular flowers were made available so even those of low income could enjoy the rare luxury of owning a real flower;
Perhaps it is a frivolous purchase, but even the most stingy of penny-pinchers could not resist the urge to loosen their purse strings when offered a single pink carnation for the ridiculously low price of only €20!
Flowers weren’t the only thing worth buying-
There were street vendors with international fare offering a variety of delights one would expect from a carnival or festival. Each seems so exotic when they come from a culture different than your own; takoyaki from Japan, bratwurst from Germany, frappe from Italy, Cotton Candy from the United States of America.
(Yup, spun sugar is originally a traditional american food invented in 1897 by American citizens William Morrison, and John C. Wharton, and it remained a unique American speciality until it was introduced at the 1904 World Fair. The irony? One of those dudes was a dentist.)
It is a culinary trip around the world without the cost of voyage.
Unless you were a vendor, of course.
While plenty were local, many more would venture from their homes to capital cities for World Peace Day, knowing they could make a larger profit than if they were to sell their goods at smaller towns.
Some even traveled from out of country, it was a huge investment for a single day, but one that would immensely pay off if they could convince customers that their goods were more authentic.
There was also a lavish parade with floats decorated in peace lilies, white poppies, hyacinth, cosmos, pincushion flowers, red peonies, and lavender, all carrying red banners with the symbol of The Supreme.
Marching bands play folk music, and talented performers in costumes from all over the world perform traditional dances.
It is a feast for the eyes seeing all the different cultures that were united for the sake of Peace.
Of course, the most beautiful sight (that you have to pay an admission fee for) is in the Jardin des Tuileries where all the metal sculptures and plastic foliage are removed to make room for impressive, imported floral displays;
Tudor roses from Britain, Quatre–temps from Canada, Dahlias from Mexico, Cattleya orchids from Brazil, Meihua from China, and naturally French Iris at the center… All countries in the world are represented by a display of their national flower, to symbolize how all nations came together under the guidance of The Supreme.
—
Roland Dupain loves World Peace Day more than Christmas!
Poverty had become common place after the Great war- the whole world seemed dull and grey. But the people endured to rebuild what had been lost. Roland Dupain’s grandfather had perished in the war, and his grandmother had to raise 2 sons on her own, one of which would marry Roland’s mother.
Then, WW2 began.
Both his father and his uncle went off to fight, following in their father’s footsteps.
5 months passed before Mrs. Dupain received word that Roland’s uncle had been killed in action.
A miserable year passed and the world descended into Hell-
Nazi’s invaded France and took control of Paris.
Parisians lived in fear and battled with hunger every day. A pregnant Mrs. Dupain cried herself to sleep, having lost all hope of ever seeing her husband alive again, resigning herself to her fate of having to bring a child into the world that would never know their father…
Then, the unthinkable happened;
The Axis Powers abruptly and unanimously surrendered!
Not to the Allies Forces…. No, something far greater and more powerful.
There was dancing in the streets! Peace at long last!
Tanks and weapons were disassembled, materials and rations that had been collected for the war efforts were donated back to the people, armies were permanently disbanded, and Roland’s father came home.
Oh, that euphoric feeling of relief and utter joy when Mrs. Roland leapt into her husband’s arms, weeping tears of joy.
No more war, no more bloodshed, no more hiding in fear, no more starving!
From now on, theirs was a world of everlasting peace!
ALL HAIL THE SUPREME!
2 months later, Roland Dupain was born, and every year until his father’s died from Tuberculosis, Roland was regaled with stories of the suffering caused during the War, and how The Supreme was their savior.
Ever since, Roland Dupain has celebrated Peace Day with fond memories and a sense of pride…
Which is why his greatest shame is his wife, Gina.
The same woman who hard the nerve to lecture him about about family values when he was ready to disown his son for marrying an outrageous woman who wouldn’t even take her husband’s last name and who had nonsense ideas about experimenting with time-trusted recipes, (flour from rice?? Peuh! That’s not how it’s done!).
Gina, with her big speech about how nothing was more important than family…
She brought disgrace to their family when she was arrested 2 years ago for civil disobedience and public disturbance!
Well, there was no way he was going to allow his granddaughter to go down a criminal path!
The world was tough but fair; so long as you work hard and follow all the rules, no questions, you won’t have any problems.
So simple!
Marinette needed to learn to how lucky she was to live in a world under The Supreme’s protection.
What better way to do that then helping her grandfather sell traditional Pain de campagne to tourists on World Peace Day?
It was a tradition started by his father, that he had carried on and tried to continue with his own son (until that wife of his put crazy ideas in his head like how pain au chocolat would be more popular.) but now, he would continue this tradition with Marinette- she would become part of a proud history, develop a sense of service, and most importantly, stay on the straight and narrow!
Children need discipline, after all!
She would thank him, one day.
-Marinette strongly disagrees.
Up until she was 11 years old, for Marinette Dupain-Cheng, World Peace Day was all about yummy treats, exciting parades, and pretty flowers.
While her parents sold pastries, her Nonna would take her strolling around the city to enjoy the excitement!
Then, just a few months before she turned 12, Nonna was sentenced to 8 years in a penitentiary labor camp.
Now, World Peace Day was about carrying baskets of rye sourdough bread, lectures on how things were and were not done, and the same old stories Grandpa Roland had already told her hundreds of times before, all while watching everyone get to have fun.
It was like having detention outside of school!
The worst part was the elderly tourists who would gush over her and pinch her cheeks for ‘being such a good girl who helps out her grandfather!’
Apparently being a “good girl” didn’t entitle her to personal space.
Seriously, why did people feel entitled to put their hands on her just because she was a kid?
Mom and Dad were no help; her Mom believed this was important quality time with her grandfather that she’ll appreciate someday when she’s older.
Dad’s opinion was, as always, that her mother was right.
You know what’d she’d really appreciate?
Getting to celebrate World Peace day instead of lugging around crusty bread made from overly fermented yeast! It was like her grandfather had an allergy to delicious food and having fun!
Grandpa Roland claimed World Peace Day was his favorite holiday, yet he spent the whole day either selling bread or complaining about how other people were selling bread wrong, how people dressed was wrong, or how people looked at their phones while walking around was wrong!
No one seemed to know how anything was “done,” save for him, and honestly? Marinette was 100% done with all of it.
—
For Adrien, World Peace Day is now the one time the city doesn’t stink in the literal sense.
The amount of actual flowers should help offset the stench of chemical fumes.
But he didn’t use to think that way…
World Peace Day used to make him happy, because it made his mother happy.
When he was little, his mother would giggle at the spectacle of Adrien-tallest in the world, as he sat atop his father’s shoulders for the best view of the parade in all of Paris.
Her smile was even sweeter than the sticky residue she tried in vain to wipe from his cheeks because Père didn’t hesitate to buy him every sugary treat that caught his eye.
Her voice was like a song as she pointed out and named each and every flower in Jardin des Tuileries to him, and as much as he wanted to pay attention, it was a hypnotic lullaby paired with a sugar crash that left him in a sleepy daze in his father’s warm embrace as he was carried home, his last conscious thoughts his mother’s kiss upon his forehead as his blanket was tucked tight around him.
As he got big enough to walk without being carried, he toured the celebrations with his parents each holding his hands in theirs.
Father still had his sweet tooth, despite mère playfully scolding him, reminding him of the lecture Adrien would get from the dentiste.
He was old enough to listen to her name all the flowers now, but too excited about the exotic music and the foreign dancers to really pay attention to what she said.
Though he did hear, and make a face, at his father’s mushy declaration that mère was the most beautiful rose in the world.
He never really noticed that mother’s grip on his hand was starting to weaken.
Years passed and he was too busy checking that the path ahead was clear of bumps and dips to notice any candy vendors or dances. His father was also more focused on pushing mother’s wheelchair than enjoying the parade.
Mother’s tone was still cheerful as she admired the flowers, but Adrien was too worried about whether the outdoor air was making her cough worse, her words went in one ear and out the other.
Last year she had been too weak to get out of bed. She had been too exhausted to watch the entirety of the parade on TV- visiting Jardin des Tuileries was out of the question.
Adrien would have given ANYTHING to listen to her list off the different flowers, he swore he would commit each one to memory.
Now….
Was there really any point?
He’d seen all the dances dozens of times, the music was also pretty boring.
There was nothing special about the food vendors, and too much sugar was terrible for your skin anyway.
He honestly didn’t care about flowers.
World Peace Day was just another over-rated holiday that people obsessed over to temporarily forget the mediocrity of their dreary lives.
What a joke.
—
For a young Gabi Grassette, son of a pommes frites vendor, World peace day meant sweets; Barbe à papa, English toffees, Mexican chocolates, and Polkagris!
Their family didn’t have a lot, but on this most special of days, his Papa would allow him some spending money to enjoy what the world had to offer~
At 8 years old, he was practically grown up, and able to walk up and down the street by himself.
It was the first World Peace Day he had a clear memory of, it was also the first time he saw a real flower up close.
Back then, he hadn’t really understood what his parents meant; things were either “real” or “imaginary”, weren’t they?
He was able to touch the plastic flowers his mother decorated their kitchen window with, and last week in L'Ecole Primaire his teacher taught him how to fold fleurs de papier. Those were plenty real enough!
Why would adults waste euros on something silly like flowers when they could buy candy instead?
Gabi couldn’t believe he was already so much smarter than everybody else! That was probably why he was allowed to enjoy the celebration by himself unlike other children who still needed adults to watch them.
That was until he stumbled across “it”.
A single blossom that had fallen off a parade float, carried off by a gentle breeze, only to land delicately at his feet.
It was so much more fragile than he’d imagined;
The petals were just as thin as paper, yet surprisingly soft to the touch.
Its center was fuzzy? A scent not unlike the perfume he was used to, but not the same either- it was both more airy yet more bold, but like a passing whisper- there was no strange undertone to remind him of cleaning sprays.
The stem was flexible, to a point. It was smooth with a certain give. If he pressed a fingernail to it, it tore a little, but instead of revealing wire inside, it was just more green- a sticky green.
The leaves had… creases? The lines weren’t painted on, they were embedded in the leaf itself almost like…. like… veins.
Veins, as if it were….
Alive.
This tiny thing in his hands wasn’t made in a classroom or a factory… it was ALIVE.
He had been told that flowers and other plants were things that grew from the ground, but he had never fully understood what that truly meant until now.
Flowers, REAL flowers, were delicate, fragrant, colorful, and ALIVE and it was the most amazing thing Gabi had ever seen!!!
But, why was something so precious only celebrated one day of the year?
Why were there so few?
Why didn’t the adults grow them everywhere? Why did they have to settle for paper or plastic ones when real ones were so much better?
It wasn’t the first time he, or any child for that matter, had questioned why the world was the way that it was, but for Gabi, it was the first time he had questioned why no one was trying to make the world better.
While his childhood had given him the blissful ignorance of believing that a certain holiday was all about delicious treats and beautiful flowers, with adulthood came the wisdom of understanding that World Peace Day was supposed to symbolize the end of the violent history of the world that would never again be repeated.
But only the enlightened were able to realize what World Peace Day was really about;
Worshipping The Supreme.
Some speculated that The Supreme was a small group of the world’s greatest minds.
Others suggested The Supreme was a single individual, appointed by the Divine Almighty to lead the world to salvation.
A remaining few even dared to imagine The Supreme as God himself; righting the wrongs of humanity and guiding them to the perfect world they could have been before the Tower of Babel.
Perhaps that last one wasn’t too far fetched-
After all, the way all the World Leaders agreed to surrender their power after WW2 without hesitation was almost as if they were compelled by some supernatural force…
In order to ensure everlasting peace for generations to come,The Supreme reshaped the nations of the world;
Monarchies were archaic- being able to trace your incestuous genealogy back to the dark ages didn’t qualify you to have any sort of authority.
Elections were flawed and allowed money, baseless propaganda, and empty promises, to fool voters and keep the greedy and corrupt in power.
That’s why wars over natural resources, religious superiority, or ethnic cleansing used to be commonplace throughout history- the wrong people were put in charge of governing the masses.
Only exceptional individuals who will uphold the ideals of a utopian society should be given that kind of power.
Mayors, Governors, Senators, and Prime Ministers/Presidents were replaced with High Officials, Grand Officials, Executive Officials, and Executive Administrators…
All of which were selected by The Supreme, and who answered only to The Supreme.
Only The Supreme could decide what those “utopian ideals” were, and no one else had any say.
Once, Gabi had been foolish enough to believe that was what was best.
After reinventing himself, from his name to the people he associated with, becoming a member of high society allowed to walk amongst the rich, the powerful, and the celebrity elite, Gabriel Agreste was finally able to see past all the bureaucratic smoke and mirrors.
No one truly had the best interests for the whole of humanity at heart.
Those with authority obeyed The Supreme out of fear and a lust for power.
Connections with the rich and influential were shallow at best; today you were friends and colleagues, but tomorrow they may very well stab you in the back to turn a profit.
In the end, the power to decide what was justifiably right or criminally wrong belonged to The Supreme, and their word was absolute.
If there was anything to take away from that, it was that absolute power corrupts absolutely.
(Hopefully an extra long post will make up for the wait. Please enjoy the strange French idioms and google their english counterparts.)
Just as there is no such thing as a free lunch, Magic ALWAYS comes with a price.
Especially when it is used for selfish or evil purposes.
Playing fast and loose with powers beyond your understanding was a recipe for disaster.
—————————————————————-
Marinette had so many ideas, none of which she intended to use more than once.
A pattern is trackable, it can be defended against, followed. Repeating the same tactics was a sure fire way to get caught.
So, as satisfying as it was to pilfer Sabrina’s locker, leaving Chloe without an acceptable excuse for not having a week’s worth of homework, it wasn’t a plan that could be used again.
Because Sabrina wasn’t stupid; she would realize she was being targeted and her locker wasn’t safe.
As an expert in breaking into lockers herself after years of doing so at Chloe’s command, the ginger-haired girl would have no problem hanging back to see who was lurking about the lockers when all other students should be elsewhere.
She could possibly even plant a booby-trap in hopes of identifying the culprit.
No, it was better that the homework thing was a single occurrence. Frequent theft would alert Chloe. This way, it was more likely to be believed as Sabrina’s incompetence rather than sabotage; leaving Chloe furious at her personal servant and none the wiser.
Marrinette DID have plans for Chloe’s own locker, but that would have to wait- multiple instances involving lockers so close together was too suspicious.
That was fine, it gave Marinette more time to experiment-
The biggest perk of her new powers was the “Lucky Charm”, which had limits;
She could only summon 1 Lucky Charm at a time. If she tried to summon a 2nd, 3rd, or 4th Lucky Charm, then the previous Lucky Charm would disappear.
BUT!
The Lucky Charm would remain, even if she de-transformed, until she willed it away.
Of course this meant that if she transformed again and tried summoning a new Lucky Charm, then the item she summoned from her last transformation would disappear, but this also meant she could keep a Lucky Charm for as long as she wanted, even if it was out of her sight.
This was by far the most useful function, since just as dough can take hours to rise, sometimes a plan needs a few days before it bears fruit.
——
The Le Grand Paris was a fortress of a Hotel.
Andre Bourgeois took great care in sparing no expense when it came to security; from the latest cameras and alarms to bribing Enforcers to do extra patrols around the Concorde.
Sneaking inside was going to be a challenge that would take a while to plan out.
Thankfully, there was something else M. Bourgeois took pride in.
Being married to the renowned “Queen of Style”, meant if he didn’t want to end up in
la niche du chie, he couldn’t let their “little princess” wear anything that was out of season.
As far as Chloe was concerned, any outfit that was a year old was considered a moldy antique, and she would sooner die than wear the same dress twice.
Which meant she got new clothes more often than the Boulangerie got flour deliveries.
But Chloe Bourgeois did not “go shopping”. That was for average, poor people.
Instead, she selected only the most expensive designs from fashion catalogs and had them wrapped and delivered straight to her room.
It’s been said that there is no parade more elaborate than the monthly draught of butlers and bellboys; their arms overloaded with carefully wrapped parcels that stacked above their heads, marching single file down the halls of the Le Grand Paris, marshaled in by security staff guiding them with orange batons like an aviation ground crew, all the way to Chloe’s personal suite.
Should a single shoebox be dropped, the fool responsible would be fired on the spot.
This was typically followed by “the purge”, where clothes, shoes, and accessories from the front of her closet that were deemed too old and “utterly useless”, were carried out to the incinerator with other burnable trash.
Items from the middle would be pushed to the front, and the items in the back moved to the middle, making the back of the closet free for all her new purchases.
It was her father’s idea of being “frugal”, only replacing part of his daughter’s wardrobe at a time to get the most use out of her “older” clothes, and her newer purchases having to wait to be shown off…
Unless something came up where she needed to demonstrate her superiority.
Chloe Bourgeois was waste incarnate; and her “wardrobe refresh” had a schedule you could set your clock by.
THIS was the Hotel’s weakness- the flaw in its top rate security.
The tricky part was deciding how to take advantage of it.
Marinette had an idea of what she wanted to do, but putting it into motion without anyone suspecting anything magical was the catch.
As much as she wanted Chloe to suffer, breaking the rules The Supreme had set would only lead to her own downfall.
Thankfully, her Lucky Charm was intuitive; it seemed to know exactly what she wanted to do and provided her with an object that was best suited to achieve her goals.
This was something she had to remind herself of, because the red and black polka-dotted hard cover of a thick book on flying insects was the last thing she was hoping for.
She hated bugs.
But so did Chloe.
The longevity of the Lucky Charm was tested, as it took four days for Marinette to find a page that inspired her.
Truly, using her Miraculous was far more educational than spending time in school;
Mme. Mendeleiev never went into specific details about certain species of bugs, like the Tineola bisselliella.
Prior to receiving her earrings, Marinette would have never guessed that breaking into the entomology lab of the Sorbonne University Pierre and Marie Curie Campus, only a few blocks away from the recently fully condemned ruins of The Notre Dame Cathedral, was far easier than trying to sneak into the Le Grand Paris Hotel.
Before her powers, she would have no way of knowing that while Enforcer Patrols on the 8th arrondissement are quite heavy along the store fronts along the Avenue des Champs-Élysées, the backsides of the stores where trucks and delivery vans load, were rather lacking in security. Only a single outer camera per building, and only 1 patrol sweep per hour based on her Lucky Charm radar.
There was definitely no way Collège would teach her how to fool a hard-wired camera that would sound an alarm if physically tampered with.
That trick she learned on her own-
Her yoyo’s ‘phone’ also conveniently had a camera function.
Positioning herself on the dove white cement block wall just above the security camera allowed her to get just the right angle to snap a pic of the loading doors.
Using the string of the yoyo and wire from a discarded clothing hanger in a nearby dumpster, she was able to affix the screen of the ‘bug-phone’ displaying the pic in front of the security camera lens far away enough to see the screen but close enough that the red and black edges of the yoyo were out of sight.
With this, she could take her time picking the lock with her Lucky Charm to get inside without anything showing up on camera footage.
(*POSSIBLE S5 SPOILERS*
Idk if you remember, but in the Paris Special it clearly showed that, just like Ladybug in the 5th season finale in her fight against Monarch, Shadybug has enough control over her powers that she doesn’t need to throw up her yoyo to summon a lucky charm.)
Dior… Chloe’s go-to shoe brand.
Unlocking the back door? C'est du gâteau!
The problem would be what awaited on the other side.
Summoning another Lucky Charm gets her a small red and black hand-held object even smaller than the patrol radar. Its shape reminds her of those ‘walkie-talkies’ she’s seen in old movies, but this has 3 antennas and a glowing LCD screen with a large central button.
Marinette has never seen a device like this, but she has a strong gut feeling that she knows what it does.
This was the moment of truth….
Pressing the central button makes all 3 lines of text blink before changing to:
{disabled}
{disabled}
{disabled}
Heart racing, she opens the door- it is pitch black save for 3 small red LED lights in the center back and sides of the room, indicating the presence of interior cameras- obviously placed to catch employees slacking off when they should be loading or unloading product, or as a back-up in case the hard wired camera outside was disabled.
The interior cameras would no doubt transmit video directly to a monitored, online data center rather than the closed system outside that was recorded and viewed later.
There was no telling how long the WIFI could be down before interruption of service alerts Enforcers to do an extra sweep of the area, so she pushes the button on the jammer again.
Based on a previous internet search, she now had roughly 5 minutes for the cameras to reboot, and even less time before the door alarms go off.
As luck would have it, similar to her parents’ store, the keypad for the alarm is on the wall right next to the back door.
Leaning in close and using the glow from the signal jammer’s LCD screen, she quickly glances at the 4 most worn out numbers on the key pad.
The number of guesses she has is irrelevant; she only has 30 seconds worth of ‘tries’ before the alarms blare and all nearby Enforcer cars surround the building.
‘No pressure.’
She gets it on her 5th try.
But that doesn’t mean she can relax…
The timer is still counting down on when the cameras will be up and running once more, and she needs to locate Chloe’s order before then.
The blinking of the red LED lights alerts her that her time is up and she dives behind a pallet full of boxes by a far corner in what she can only hope is a blind-spot, ducking out of sight just as the lights changed from blinking red to a solid green.
She takes a moment to catch her breath-assuming she hasn’t lost count, she now has about 36 minutes to find the shoes set aside for Chloe, make the switch, then re-set the alarm, lock the doors, and retrieve her yoyo before the next Enforcer Patrol comes by.
If she was caught, she had no doubt The Supreme would ensure she was never heard from again.
Yeah, she would be the world’s biggest liar if she tried to tell herself she wasn’t scared out of her mind right now… Who wouldn’t be?
Why did she think she could do this??
This back room storage area was way larger than she anticipated, (it was only the first floor, surely the bottom floor was only for incoming and outgoing products while the upper 4 floors had their own storage rooms for their respective merchandise, right??) and she had no flashlight- not that she could use it while the cameras were on.
She didn’t want to interrupt the WIFI signal again until she needed to leave; the WIFI going out for too long or going out then coming back on again right away too many times would probably be the same as announcing that somebody was here messing with the system.
If her plan was to go without a hitch, there couldn’t be ANY reason for anyone to suspect that Chloe’s order had been tampered with.
Comment diable was she supposed to find anything in the dark in under 30 minu-
…. Tu te fous de ma gueule?!
It had to be the magic earrings, there was no way Marinette Dupain Cheng could ever be THIS lucky;
There, on the pallet of boxes she had chosen to hide behind, illuminated by the faint glow of the LCD screen in her hand, was the letter “B”.
A slow sweep across the label revealed O…U…R…G…E….
‘Y a pas moyen...’
…O…I…S.
30 boxes worth of flats, heels, and boots.
For Chloe?
Yup. That seemed about right.
Marinette didn’t have enough materials for all of them, but she would make do.
Quickly picking out 8 boxes of flats, she opened the fanny pack she’d swiped from the back of her father’s closet and pulled out what looked like 16 desiccant packs.
Enough for 1 per shoe- only someone looking closely with a keen eye would be able to tell that the words “silica gel” had been hand stamped on each paper sachet, rather than professionally printed, and sealed with a glue-stick instead of a heat press.
Carefully swapping the real packs for her fakes, Marinette was careful to re-package the designer tissue paper in each shoe box and stack them up carefully on the pallet.
The morning crew would come and see to it that each box was professionally wrapped, and then loaded onto a delivery van headed to the Le Grand Paris so that Chloe could enjoy a Friday after school “parade”.
Pressing the jammer button on and off again gave Marinette 5 minutes to run back to the back door, press the “arm system” button, and lock the door behind her.
She only needed 2.
Leaping up the side of the building, she retrieved her yoyo and checked the watch function; still 8 minutes to spare before the next Enforcer patrol.
Ha! Hardly exciting (je touche du bois.)
She couldn’t believe it; she’d just successfully broken into DIOR.
At this rate, a heist at Le Grand Paris would be a snap!
Who would’ve ever believed that clumsy Marinette was such a pro at pulling off heists? Was this what success felt like?
It felt pretty good!
All that was left to do now was parkour her way back home, dump the desiccant packs, then wait until her parents went down to open the Bakery in the morning to return her father’s vintage bag to the forgotten depths of his bedroom closet.
He’d never know it’d been missing.
In 3 days, the tiny, pinhead sized eggs stolen from the University lab would hatch into voracious larva that would eat their way through the paper sachets before beginning to devour every designer blouse, skirt, and dress they could crawl to.
By the time Chloe reached the back of her closet and noticed the chew holes, the damage would be done… Thousands of euros worth of damage, and the larva would have already found hiding spots to form their cocoons.
De-transforming inside her room, Marinette giggled at the thought of Chloe opening her closet doors weeks later and screaming through a face full of fluttering moths.
The imagery alone made it worth how exhausted she felt.
Was this the fatigue you were supposed to feel once the surge of adrenaline wore off?
Well, nothing a few hours sleep wouldn’t cure.
———
…Or not.
The shrieking tone of the morning alarm was enough to make anyone curse, and Marinette was no exception… But she couldn’t recall the last time it was enough to make her wake up with a headache.
All of her muscles felt sore, which didn’t make sense since the suit did all the hard work and physical exertion.
Was this still that adrenaline burn out? Or did she manage to come down with something?
She wouldn’t be surprised; spending too much time outside and breathing in Parisian night air was guaranteed to make you sick.
But without an actual fever, her mom would never let her stay home from school.
She would have to suck it up and muscle her way through the day.
It would probably also be a good idea to avoid transforming for the next few days- she’d definitely had enough excitement to last her for a while and a break was overdue….
….That had been the plan anyway.
But some opportunities were just too good to pass up!
Gabriel Agreste, yes, The Gabriel Agreste, famous designer of the world renowned “GABRIEL” brand was holding a derby hat design contest at HER school!
The winning hat would even be featured in his next Fashion Show!
La cerise sur le gatea? M. Agreste himself was coming to select the winner. IN. PERSON.
This was HUGE.
There would even be live news coverage!
Though Marrinette was pretty sure this was mostly a publicity stunt thought up by the school to make angry parents forget about “The Boiler Room Incident,” she couldn’t deny that this was a rare chance.
Not for her, of course.
There was no way Chloe would leave her alone if Marinette tried to enter, and with her being so close to M. Agreste’s son, it would just take one word from the blonde and Marinette would not only be disqualified, but probably black-listed as well.
That was fine.
Okay, no, it wasn’t fine.
It was the exact opposite of fine! And totally unfair!!!
But…
Avoir d’autres chats à fouetter.
After all, years of being Chloe’s figurative punching bag meant Marinette knew Chloe’s ultimate weakness; Attention.
The only thing Chloe loved more than her hair was being in the spotlight.
A chance to appear on TV alongside Adrien Agreste was as good as a siren’s song.
But there was no way that Chloe had any hope of winning that contest, unless she cheated.
Cheating happened to be one of the few things Chloe was actually good at, and she did so every chance she got.
It was almost too predictable; Chloe would just have Sabrina steal someone else’s idea, then, without lifting a finger, pay a professional to make it for her, then present the hat at the contest as her own work.
It would be Chloe’s word versus her victim’s, and Marinette knew exactly how that would play out.
This was also in her favor; no matter what, that evil girl would INSIST the design was her own, even though she wouldn’t bother to take notice of whatever it was.
Chloe never cared about what she stole, only that she felt joy in making the people she stole from suffer.
It didn’t matter who got hurt.
There was no way to know who was entering the contest without taking a peek at the sign-up sheet, and there was no way Marinette could risk doing that without painting a target on her back.
It was so much easier to make yourself invisible when people weren’t actively seeking you out to make your life miserable.
Chloe had a new favorite patsy, (some opinionated girl with glasses), and Marinette had no intention of reminding her former bully that she still existed.
Besides, she didn’t need to know who Chloe decided to steal from.
All she needed was her earrings, a little something from home, and a quick online search of the schedule for today’s bus routes.
The judging would take place 2 hours after the end of the school day. Not much time for a teenager to put together a hat from scratch, but for a professional Milliner it was nothing.
Which is why when lunch time hit, it was no surprise that Sabrina left Chloe’s side to “eat lunch at home today”.
As if.
The 32 bus wouldn’t take Sabrina anywhere near her apartment.
But it would take her to Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré, where some name dropping and the Bourgeois credit line would allow her to have any boutique or atelier drop everything to create whatever design she brought to them, no questions asked.
It would also ensure that afterwards, everyone would deny her ever coming there in the first place.
(The name ‘Audrey Bourgeois’ carried a lot of weight, and her daughter never hesitated to throw it around.)
Now, the thing about Sabrina Raincomprix was that she was a good lackey; obedient, dedicated, and cautious.
Having a strict, Enforcer father who believed in “Guilty until proven innocent.” meant that she was paranoid about getting caught doing Chloe’s dirty work, and would go to great lengths to keep her ‘master’ from falling under suspicion.
The ginger-haired girl wouldn’t be eating anything today; her lunch break would be spent traveling to deliver the stolen hat design, then taking the long way back to school to avoid being spotted.
This also meant that after school, she would have to take a bus back to pick up the finished derby, then take a 2nd bus that would drop her off near Place de la Concorde, then take a 3rd bus back to the school so it looked like she had only gone straight to the Grand Paris Hotel to pick up Chloe’s hat and bring it to the school for her, because heaven forbid that brat should carry anything herself.
The final trait that made Sabrina such a good servant?
She was punctual.
Due to Chloe’s short temper, Sabrina had an extreme case of what Max Kanté had once called “Allegrophobia.”
She was so afraid of being yelled at for not being on time that she had a consistent habit of not double checking things before rushing off to where she was ordered to be.
Even the tiniest of delays was enough to give her anxiety.
Marinette knew from experience just how easy it was for someone to take advantage of your anxiety.
It was high time those 2 got a taste of their own medicine.
However, this would require a sacrifice, and a risk bigger than any she had taken so far.
The Supreme had been clear; she could not be seen, no one was to know about the existence of her Miraculous or magic.
It was for this reason that she had carefully restricted use of her powers to inside her room, the rooftops at night, or in secluded places where she was absolutely sure no other living soul was around.
But if she was going to out-cheat the world’s nastiest cheater, Marinette would have to transform in broad daylight and intercept Sabrina en route.
If Sabrina- no, if anyone saw even a hint of her spots, it was all over!
She could see it now; The Bakery forced to shut down, her parents sent to a Penitentiary camp, her citizenship revoked- no, make that her very name erased from existence and she was forced to work underground in some coal mine with weighted balls and chains around her ankles, never again allowed to see the light of day!
… Okay, so nowhere had it specifically said any of that was going to happen, but The Supreme did say the penalty would be severe, and honestly? It was possible.
If she was really going to go through with this, she would have to be quick and more than a little clever.
She doubted her Lucky Charm could conjure up an item to erase people’s memories.
So far, all her Lucky Charms had been items that actually existed- hard as it was to believe that something like magic could have limitations.
Not that Marinette would ever leave her fate up to magic alone, not when she had technology on her side.
The internet was just as powerful as her earrings, only instead of ‘Lucky Charms’ it could conjure up things like detailed city maps with street views via satellite, as well as the pick-up times of the buses that stopped at those streets.
It was only a matter of deciding which one of those streets would be ideal for an ambush.
The hardest part?
Coming up with an excuse to get out of running the cash register at the Bakery after school.
Marinette reviewed the options in her head;
Lying about wanting to enter the design contest wouldn’t get her anywhere.
Faking an illness was just as pointless- her mom would stand watch to make sure the thermometer wasn’t tampered with while checking for a temperature.
Any studying for a major test could be done after the Bakery closed and before she went to bed.
Non, nope, and no bueno.
If she wanted to escape her after-school obligations, she not only had to be creative…
She had to be gross.
——
She was late coming home after school, she had to make a detour to find a Picard vending machine.
Luckily, her leather satchel made it easy to conceal her purchases.
She ran past the Bakery counter, ignoring her mother’s glare and answering demands of “Where have you been?!” with her own rushed “Can’tTalkMyStomachIsKillingMe!” as she raced up the stairs to the 2nd floor bathroom.
Locking the door behind her, she stared at the toilet with dread.
Her kwami floated out from her bulky jacket pocket to stare at her with what Marinette imagined was the creature’s own version of a cringe.
Well, nobody asked for its opinion.
Vending machine bread was cheap, but the taste was way off in her humble opinion. Too much yeast. Though she hadn’t purchased it with the intention of eating it…
A minute, maybe a minute and a half was all it took for the brioche to bloat up after hitting the water. A single flush was all that was needed to make the evidence vanish, as well as clog the drain.
She pulled out the plastic covered slice of chocolate cake and hesitated; no matter what she made it look like, ganache dissolved in water wouldn’t fool anyone.
“Vous ne pouvez pas utiliser un gâteau au chocolat pour raconter des salades.”
Not without miraculous intervention, at least.
Tikki visibly winced before being sucked into the earrings as Marinette transformed.
No idea why; it should be used to it by now…
She had no idea what Lucky Charm could possibly make her little act convincing, but here goes nothing-!
A small round object wrapped in red plastic with black polkadots landed in her hand.
What was she supposed to do with this??? What even was this?!
She slowly tore open the packaging and - Merde! Was this camembert??
Yup, that’ll do it.
Holding her breath and resisting the urge to gag, she smushed the cheese between her palms for a moment to let it “breathe”, before breaking off bits and plunking the pieces into the porcelain bowl.
Squashing the still wrapped slice of cake in a similar manner, she opened that up and dumped it in the water as well.
De-transforming, she stuffed both wrappers into the inner pockets of her jacket and waited.
According to the time on her phone, 11 minutes had passed before her mother came pounding on the door, inquiring just what she was doing in there?!
Well, she wasn’t folding pastries…
Saying that would’ve been counter-productive though, so instead Marinette gave her most pitiful groan before stammering about clogging the toilet.
The door handle shook and her mother ordered her to open up.
‘As you wish, mommy dear…’
Thankfully, her facial expression didn’t match her thoughts.
Sabine Cheng covered her nose and mouth with horror as Marinette sheepishly stepped out of the bathroom, hunched over and clutching her stomach.
Her pink streaked hair in was in disarray, and her heavy eyeliner was running from sink-water “tears” as she mumbled about how much her stomach had been bothering her since lunch.
Her mother doesn’t even bother to hide her agitation and disgust as she waves her away; ordering her to take some Imodium from the medicine cabinet in the 4th floor bathroom, then go up to her room.
She’ll bring her something light for supper later if she’s feeling hungry, but for now she has to find some gloves so she can sort out the toilet quickly and get back down to watch the register.
Marinette deserved a César Award for the way she trudged up the stairs, head down in shame, her dark pigtails a droopy, frazzled mess.
Once she made it to the 3rd floor, she bolted up to her room faster than galette sold out on La Fête des Rois.
The anticipation was starting to get to her, she actually felt her stomach turning for real, but there wasn’t a moment to spare.
She had 1 last thing to grab from her room before setting things in motion…
Her transformation (still didn’t have a name for it yet, not as if she really needed to since it was a secret), was only needed to get her from her balcony to the rooftop of the building next door.
De-transforming back, Marinette made her way down the fire-escape before making a beeline for the bus stop.
She needed to get to Sabrina’s return route before the ginger-haired girl made her way back to Place de la Concorde.
There was nothing suspicious about Marinette riding the bus- she was just a normal girl, with a normal, crappy life, wasting what was left of her precious pocket money on public transportation.
(For real though; what did it take to get a red and black wallet Luck Charm filled with cash??? For the record, she was perfectly ok with said cash vanishing from reality after it’d already been spent.)
Traveling by yoyo would be lot faster, but not even thick Parisian smog could hide that loud red and black suit.
You’d think if The Supreme wanted her to stay hidden so badly, she would be given a Miraculous that was more inconspicuous than black and red spots on hexagonal spandex.
Whatever.
Picking an alleyway with a dumpster to hide behind that would still give her a somewhat decent view of the sidewalk was simple enough after having studied the street views online.
What she was unprepared for was the absolute boredom of waiting for Sabrina’s bus to arrive-
Whoever came up with the saying “There is only late or on time.” clearly had never arrived an hour early with nothing else but the thoughts in their own head to keep them occupied.
Marinette had chosen a spot roughly 9 meters away from the next bus stop Sabrina would have to take to connect her route.
After getting off one bus, it should take her around 17 minutes to walk over from point A.
The goal was to intercept before she could make it to point B.
It was laughable how easy it was to crouch behind a dumpster in the middle of the day without drawing any attention.
Laughable, in a sad, nobody-cares-where-you-are-or-what-you’re-doing-and-never-will, kind of way…
The timer on her phone beeped, signaling Marinette to transform and summon her Lucky Charm…
A bag of Marbles?
Guess it was time to test how well super-powers affected aim.
Staying low with as much of her body behind the bin that she could manage and still peek out, she waited for the first hint of orange hair and an argyle sweater vest.
Her timing was nothing short of miraculous; her thumb flicking the tiny glass ball and shooting it out perfectly beneath the sole of a wedged sneaker, sending Sabrina tumbling backwards, her glasses flying free through the air, hat box dropping from her arms to roll into the nearby alley.
A snap of the fingers had the black and red marble vanish from existence. As far as anyone could tell, that silly girl had tripped over her own feet.
Flailing around to find her wayward glasses took priority, giving Marinette the time she needed to swap out the derby in the hat box, roll it closer to the alley entrance, then de-transform and make herself as small as possible behind the piles of garbage next to the metal bin.
The minutes were ticking away and Sabrina was absolutely frantic as she picked up the box and sprinted towards the stop just as her next bus screeched to a halt- loudly pleading for it not to take off immediately without her onboard.
Marinette would end up waiting a little longer, making sure the bus was long gone before she left that alley to head towards a different stop that would take a more direct route near her home so she could sneak back up to her room before Sabrina could make it back to school.
She came in the same way she’d gotten out, and there was no sign she’d been missed.
No surprise there…
De-transforming left her with a sharp, throbbing pain in her abdomen that had her bent over and hugging herself, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth.
Qu'est-ce que???
It wasn’t that time of the month yet, but this was the same level of cramping she would expect on ‘heavy flow’ days.
Was it from climbing up and down several flights of the fire escape? Or maybe she really was sick? She had been spending a lot of time outdoors, practicing with her yoyo and getting used to ducking behind billboards and scaling buildings.
Also, sitting next to literal garbage probably didn’t do her any favors.
Whatever it was, the solution was clear; She just needed to take a few nights off, maybe get more than 3-4 hours of sleep for a change.
But for right now, she needed to watch the news.
Turning on her laptop, Marinette opened the TVi News webpage and clicked on their livestream.
It would’ve been great to witness the event in person, but she couldn’t risk being seen by Chloe.
Besides, she wouldn’t have to worry about hiding her own reactions to what was about to go down when she was in the safety of her own room.
Clara Contard introduced herself reporting live from the Françoise Dupont cafeteria where students were about to introduce their original Derby Hat creations!
She was overly chipper as she told viewers how today’s winning design would not only be selected by Gabriel Agreste, but also modeled by his son, teen supermodel Adrien Agreste, in his next fashion show!
The camera panned for a wide view to show all of the students who were competing standing at different tables, some nervous, some excited, all waving to the camera.
Marinette recognized a few of the students either from having shared a classroom in previous years, or simply from them laughing at her in the hallway.
Honestly? She hated everyone who entered the contest, with the exception of 2 people, though she doubted they had any chance of winning.
There was a feverish murmer in the background before Mme. Contard announced that the “stars” of the show had arrived; the camera cut to the cafeteria doors opening for Gabriel and Adrien Agreste’s grand entrance.
M. Agreste was taller than Marinette thought he’d be; silver hair parted down the middle, round, white framed glasses, and dressed in a palette of soft blues and neutrals.
He was a far cry from the intimidating design mogul she’d envisioned. But if anything, that made more sense-
This looked exactly like the type of man who would spoil his son rotten; too weak-willed to say “no” to any outrageous demand.
As for Adrien,
Well, it’s not like they had any classes together, and she was always too busy keeping her head down and avoiding being noticed to ever pass him by in between periods, but he also looked different than what she’d expected based on the billboard ads and posters littered all over the city, or as she liked to call them, “visual pollution.”
His hair was cut asymmetrically, and the eye make-up was new…
But what was with that outfit?
Exactly what look was he going for; Sterile-punk in Asylum white?
Mon Dieu, that had better not be the next trend!
Marinette’s huff of annoyance at this point was habitual- she wasn’t interested in watching Chloe’s BFF strut and smile for the camera.
His every move, from the way he walked to his practiced wave was so overly rehearsed and unnaturally flawless, Marinette wouldn’t be surprised if someone told her he was an AI generated hologram rather than an actual human being.
What a stuck-up showoff…
Honestly, she wasn’t really interested in watching any of the contestants either, save for Chloe. But who knows? Maybe she could enjoying watching Fashion Icon Gabriel Agreste verbally rip into each of their designs and leave them in tears like that one cooking show with the angry British Chef?
At least that would be entertaining.
No such luck.
The man was the definition of positivity to the point it was sickening;
He stopped at each table-giving the cameraman a chance to focus on each separate hat and allowing the students their moment to shine.
He looked over each derby closely from multiple angles, giving specific praise over little details that he thought stood out, and at times, constructive criticism over some minor construction flaws, followed by encouragement before moving on to the next entry.
He was so nice, she felt nauseous.
Though, that could’ve also been a side effect from her previous running around.
She’d honestly thought he’d have at least some negative feedback over Rose and Nathaniel’s entry.
Not that Marinette was hoping for it; Rose and Nathaniel were among the few students at Françoise Dupont who weren’t complete trou du culs.
True, neither of them had ever tried to be friends with her, but they’d also never joined in with everybody laughing at her expense, either.
But that didn’t excuse the monstrosity sitting on the table in front of them.
If she had to take a guess, she would say that Rose dragged Nathaniel into the contest with her; probably babbled on about all her unicorn and kitten filled fantasies for him to sketch out, then used a hot glue gun to try and make it a reality.
A hot fuchsia bowler with rainbow yarn coming out of the back as… a mane?…a tail?… something.
There was what looked like a cardboard horn that had been assaulted with glitter, and electric cobalt blue cat ears cut from craft-store faux fur that were uneven in size.
Rather than a ribbon around the base of the rounded crown, there was a collage-like border made from what was probably every flower sticker Rose owned.
At least Nathaniel had the decency to be embarrassed, as evidenced by him pulling the drawstrings of his hoodie tight in an attempt to either hide himself from view, or self-asphyxiate.
Personally, Marinette would’ve gone with the latter.
Even Adrien averted his eyes- the glitter shedding uni-kitty derby too bright to look at directly.
Rose was naturally, blissfully unaware.
But M. Agreste didn’t so much as flinch!
He complimented their boldness and stated his admiration for their creativity. He gently pointed out some issues- such as the the hot-glue seam slowly coming apart, and suggested that a buckram fabric molded with starch would hold its shape better than cardboard and be easier to affix to the crown of the hat without weighing it down.
He gave them tips on cutting faux fur and how to trace a pattern to make the ears come out more even.
He even stated that he was intrigued by the floral collage, but was concerned that paper stickers would eventually lose their adhesion and fall off, before suggesting using fabric dye and multiple flower shaped rubber stamps on plain ribbon as an alternative to achieve the same effect.
He thanked them both and said he hoped to see them in future contests so he could witness their progress.
Marinette frowned and swallowed back the acid burning at the back of her throat.
She hated to admit it, but she was envious.
There was no way her mom would’ve let her enter, and even if she snuck out to compete anyway, Chloe would’ve found a way to ruin her work or used her connection with Adrien to get her kicked out.
She knew that, so sulking about it was pointless.
But still, how awesome would it have been to receive honest, non-judgey feedback from someone with so much experience in the fashion industry?
A chance to have her designs taken seriously and to discuss how she could improve with someone who actually knew what they were doing without being looked down on?
She didn’t care about winning some lame school contest. But some one-on-one time with a professional in the world of design?
She wanted that.
Badly.
Marinette hated how stupid she felt for resenting Rose Lavillant just because she was enjoying an opportunity that she herself wanted but had been unable to take.
It was so dumb to feel jealous over Rose when it wasn’t even her fault.
It was Chloe’s fault!
Chloe was the reason Marinette wasn’t allowed to stand out, why she didn’t have any friends, why now even her own mother was preventing her from following her dreams!
Stubbornly using her sleeve to wipe away moisture that had begun to form at the corners of her eyes, Marinette focused on her laptop screen.
The moment she’d been waiting for was nearly here…
Gabriel and Adrien Agreste approached Chloe’s table and stopped abruptly as the blonde girl rushed over to clutch onto the teen boy’s arm with her high-pitched squeal, bouncing on her heels in giddiness and not even bothering to acknowledge M. Agreste until the older man awkwardly cleared his throat and adjusted his light blue-violet ascot before offering his greetings.
Under normal circumstances, the smug look on that witch’s face as she gushed to M. Agreste about how she could not wait to see “Adrikins” (Ugh, was that his pet name? Gross…) wearing her hat at the next fashion show, would’ve been enough to make Marinette lose her lunch.
Today, however, knowing what was to come, left her avoir la banane.
M. Agreste chuckled and said he liked her enthusiasm, but he would need to see her entry first.
Chloe rolled her eyes playfully, saying something quaint about “getting formalities over with”, before snapping her fingers to order Sabrina to attention.
The bespectacled girl stepped forward dutifully, hat box in arms, and carefully removed the lid-
Marinette bit her lower lip, and Chloe announced to the room she was “now presenting the winning design!” as Sabrina lifted the derby hat out of the box for M. Agreste to see.
The camera zoomed in on the hat:
It was a classic derby bowler shaped in pale, dusty rose colored wool felt with a thin chiffon trim along the outer edge of the brim in a slightly darker shade. The the dark blues and greens of the patterned ribbon around the base was reminiscent of the scales of a butterfly’s wing, and had an iridescent sheen.
The focal point of course, was the glazed black, scalloped medallion in the center of the side bow, embossed with a white, flourished “G”.
The camera zoomed back out to capture both Chloe’s self-satisfied smirk and Gabriel Agreste’s reaction;
Blessed be for HD, otherwise Marinette would’ve missed the slight crease between M. Agreste’s brows as his smile began to falter.
There was a moment of hesitation, another awkward clearing of his throat, and a quick darting of his eyes indicating that he would rather the film crew direct their attention elsewhere….
Clara Contard would have none of that, so M. Agreste tried to gracefully step forward and angle his back towards the camera, a valiant effort to shield Mlle. Bourgeois from view that was in vain.
You had to admire his efforts; he attempted to handle the situation as delicately as possible-
“Young lady, I believe you may have misunderstood… The aim was not to submit your favorite hat that you would like to see again, but to come up with your own, original design for Adrien to model. I apologize if that was not made clear-“
Oh, the shift on Chloe’s face from cool confidence to furious indignation would’ve given a lesser man whiplash, but to M. Agreste’s credit, he only slightly stepped back in surprise at the blonde’s foot-stamping outburst.
“How DARE you?! This hat is MY original design! Are you calling me a liar???”
M. Agreste didn’t get angry, didn’t raise his voice… Merely pursed his lips into a tight line before inhaling a deep breath and letting it out gently-
“I’m sorry to say but, while it is an older design, it is in fact, one of my own.”
Lifting the derby and turning it upside-down revealed the “GABRIEL” label, expertly sewn unto the creamy white silk lining inside.
“This model hit store shelves well over a year ago, as part of my late spring collection.”
The camera was only able to zoom in on Chloe’s red face and quivering lip for about 3 seconds before she was once again blocked by M. Agreste’s torso and only the muffled sound of “Mme. Contard, please show some decorum.” was heard before they cut to commercial.
Chloe Bourgeois, publicly humiliated on live TV.
What a beautiful day~
Was there an option to give this livestream 5 stars? Because Clara deserved the highest ratings!
Marinette was kind of sorry that she’d had to sacrifice her own hat- even if it wasn’t her style anymore, even if it had been bought on clearance from a discount boutique that specialized in what was no longer in season.
She had saved up all of her allowance just for a chance to own anything from the “GABRIEL” brand, and had felt a small sense of pride in being able to buy it for herself.
But sentimentality was for the weak, and Marinette Dupain-Cheng was no longer that pathetic little girl that wore her heart on her sleeve like some air-head.
At first she wasn’t sure what she was going to do with Chloe’s counterfeit derby, (black and grey pinstripes with a square metal studded band… based on the panoramic view at the start of the livestream, Théo Barbot had been the unwitting victim this time,) but now she decided she was going to keep it.
Maybe she’d mount it on her wall as a trophy to remind her that she was no longer a vulnerable little pear for Chloe to squash beneath her heels.
(The pear thing is another French idiom. No, I’m not making this up!)
Relishing the spoils of victory would have to wait, though.
Marinette closed her laptop and stretched, wincing slightly. There was no point in watching the rest of the contest.
All she cared about now was taking a hot shower, some pain killers, and lying down with a heating pad to see if it would help with her cramp.
…That shower was cut short in order to rush back to her room to interrogate a certain red and black floating insect.
“Ce que l'enfer est-ce?!”
Above her navel was a black, spindly mark the size of a kumquat. It was tender to the touch and it certainly had NOT been there this morning!
As always, the kwami said nothing, not that it could with that, whatever-it-was, over its mouth… if what it had was considered a mouth.
Instead, those round, blue eyes widened-for a moment they even looked frightened-before glancing nervously over at the loft and Marinette’s bed.
The tablet from The Supreme was still tucked under her mattress.
She didn’t remember reading anything about black splotches suddenly appearing on her body, but the tablet was the only lead she had.
Hitting the power button and waiting through the identification scan, Marinette ignored the red screen and the intimidating symbol glaring at her- she was more interested in the icon at the bottom corner.
It was flashing again.
There was a new message.
Marinette felt a shiver run down her spine; she hadn’t received any new messages since the first 1 on the day she received her earrings.
She should be relieved The Supreme is contacting her again, right?
She was ‘the chosen one’ after all, so whatever The Supreme had to say must be important.
It might even help her.
The Supreme would take care of her.
There was no need to feel afraid.
….Right?
Her hand was definitely not shaking as she tapped the message icon to open to full screen:
“Mlle Marinette Dupain-Cheng,
At this time you might be aware of certain afflictions to your body.
Unfortunately, this is the result of prolonged Miraculous use, and will continue to spread.
It should please you to know that a remedy does exist. However, the means to alleviate your condition are not without stipulations;
Another Miraculous has been stolen.
If you are able to recover it, your malaise shall be remedied with haste.
Be warned- failure to do so will only allow the aliment to spread to the point of being fatal, regardless of further use of the Miraculous.
Please be advised; Only one can be spared.”
At the age of 13 going on 14, Marinette had a plethora of profanities at her disposal, yet none of them felt sufficient for this level of ABSOLUTE B.S.!
What kind of sick joke was this?!
After skimming through a detailed description of the Butterfly Brooch and the powers it granted its holder, she came to the conclusion that the only joke here was her.
She threw the tablet down in anger, the loud clatter sending the kwami flying away to hide in the waste bin under her desk.
Of course it had all been too good to be true!
She wasn’t lucky, she was cursed!
‘Only one can be spared.’
What was that supposed to mean? Did The Supreme think she would feel pity for the Butterfly thief and beg to save them too?
Fat chance.
You know what? Fine! Et merde!
Elle était prête à couper la poire en deux.
Her eyes narrowed with renewed resolve.
If playing the role of ‘Miraculous Repo man’ was what it took to to save her skin and be able to dish out long overdue karma, then that’s what she’d do.
Enhanced speed and strength- it was no exaggeration to say that Adrien Agreste was already exceptionally athletic, but thanks to this ring, leaping from rooftop to rooftop could hardly even be considered a warmup exercise.
Night vision was awesome.
Paris was so dark after curfew; all businesses shut down, save for Hôpital Européen Georges-Pompidou, a few windows in residential homes, and street lights which stayed on only to light the patrol routes of Enforcers.
But with the powers of the Miraculous, every shadow was brilliantly illuminated in his eyes- The City as clear and vivid as if it were broad daylight, for him and him alone.
A heightened sense of hearing was more useful than he’d thought.
The cat ears had looked pawsitively ridiculous the first time he’d said the transformation phrase.
But now, not only could he hear both higher and lower pitched sounds that he never could before, he could hear an Enforcer from nearly a kilometer away!
There was no chance of taking a single misstep, no distance his legs and stick could not carry him, no wall his claws could not climb, no one who could sneak up and catch him by surprise!
His new, keen sense of smell?
…. That sucked.
Immensely.
Between the chemical burn like stinging in his nose from the persistent smog, and the gag-inducing sewage smell wafting over from the Seine, going for a nighttime run to get some air had NOT been one of his best ideas.
Still, he couldn’t stand the clawstraphobic feeling of being cooped up in his room, not after today…
Adrian still didn’t understand why his father insisted he go to school.
Things had been hard enough after Mother… Things had been hard.
Was it so wrong to want things to stay the same? Why did his whole life have to be up-ended and re-arranged?? He was doing FINE with his home studies and private tutors.
He didn’t need to meet new people.
He already socialized plenty; He had his language instructors, his fencing teacher, his photographers and make-up crew, his runway coach, and shoot coordinator.
What benefit was there to going to school that he couldn’t get at home??? Mother would’ve never-!
…She would’ve understood.
But Adrian didn’t get a say in this, despite it being HIS life, and HIS education.
His father had developed an annoyingly persistent habit of personally making sure Adrien didn’t “hit the snooze on his alarm clock”, and eating breakfast with him to ensure he made it out the front door on time.
His Père was so paranoid, he even sat with him in the car ride to school every morning. The excuse was that it was to spend time together.
Adrien knew it was to make sure he didn’t try to make a run for it again.
So for weeks now, he’d had to endure crowded classrooms, noisy halls, going over material he already knew by heart, nearly dying of boredom, and Chloe not understanding the concept of ‘personal space.’
But today had been particularly suffocating.
La Saint-Valentin.
Some called it “La Fête des Amoureux”.
Adrien called it “l' insanité”.
People stared at him for longer than usual, giggling, whispering, sighing, trying to discreetly snap a pic on their phones.
The security of the school was terrible, considering the avalanche of cards, love letters, and chocolate that nearly buried him alive- how did so many people know how to break into a locker?!
(He was reluctant to leave his phone in his locker for fencing practice; what if somebody stole it?)
Chloe was even more irritating than usual; clinging to his arm way too tightly and barking at people like some kind of spoiled purse dog- telling them to keep their eyes off while parading him around like he was somehow her prized possession.
(At least her snarling face kept people from trying to hand him gifts directly.)
Lunch was a nightmare; Chloe had somehow managed to get the Le Grande Hotel to deliver Magret à la D'Artagnan on heart shaped plates. He was only able to avoid being hand-fed rose petal Tuiles by claiming he had a VERY important photo shoot coming up and was on a strict diet!
For once, his excuse to leave for the boy’s room wasn’t a lie; he needed to throw-up.
He ended up spending all of lunch hiding in the washroom. The last thing he needed was someone snapping pics to post online that he and Chloe were “together”, which was no doubt that crazy girl’s scheme.
(If her mother wasn’t The Queen of Style, Adrien would’ve asked for a restraining order already.)
Was there any sound on this earth more beautiful than the bell signaling the end of the school day?
Doubtful.
But even the car ride home was uncomfortable; all the shop windows with plastic roses and heart decorations.
Even that Boulangerie and Patisserie where that cute, pigtailed, umbrella thief worked at had a display of red and pink macarons, chocolate covered feuille de palmiers, and heart shaped candied apples.
His stomach was too sour to wonder if anyone had given her a Valentine, and he wasn’t in the mood to search through the pile waiting for him at home to see if she had found the courage to send one to him.
He knew what might cheer him up though; some wanton destruction!
A few simple words and he was no longer Adrien Agreste, he was…
…Okay, he was still working on a cool name for his alter ego, (not that he had anyone to tell it to), but the point was, he was wild and fur-ee!
So what if the whole city stank?
Like this, he could go wherever he wanted, do whatever he wanted!
So long as he didn’t get caught.
He hadn’t been able to figure out why The Supreme had entrusted him with this power, especially since he wanted to keep it a secret.
But Adrien figured he’d been doing an okay job so far… Probably?
He was sure no one saw him testing out whether his claws could scratch through brick on chimney stacks. (They could.)
Yeah, people would obviously notice a dumpster or three had gone missing, but it’s not like they would blame magic powers for their disappearance, or look at the piles of black ash that had taken their place and be able to put two and two together.
There was definitely no way to prove that he was the one who smashed the rear window of that Enforcer’s patrol car with his retractable stick from the rooftop across the street.
No one in their right mind would suspect that the yowling keeping them up at night and making them call the Enforcers to complain was actually him and not a real stray cat giving a nightly serenade. (He only did that once.)
All in all, he’d done a purrty good job following the rules The Supreme had sent.
He was as elusive as a shadow in the night; it was impossible to catch him in the act!
But somehow… It still wasn’t enough.
He still felt restless, even his leather tail thrashed in agitation (still no clue on how it did that) and his claws itched for something, anything to tear into. Maybe that would soothe the building heat in his chest that had his teeth grinding.
After spending the whole day being smothered and watching everyone make les yeux doux and being stupidly happy he felt sickened.
No, that wasn’t right. It was more than that.
It felt tighter than that.
Sure, he had been annoyed, but this felt tenser somehow, like a rubber band stretched too far.
He couldn’t put into words exactly what he was feeling, or what caused it.
Maybe he was tired of everybody encroaching on his personal space.
Maybe it was being bombarded with cards and letter filled with the same, shallow words of affection and admiration from strangers who didn’t know him outside a perfume ad.
Maybe it was coming home and noticing there were no expensive bouquets of real roses waiting now that his father had no one to buy them for….
Mère had always loved roses, and father spared no expense to make sure she always had the real thing every Valentine’s Day- soft petals and a sweet fragrance that could not be compared to the plastic, perfumed replicas that were sold by street vendors.
Rich, vibrant green stems, as green as her gentle eyes…
That was it.
This whole stupid holiday, that was nothing more than a byproduct of mass consumerism, was just another bitter reminder of how his life had changed for the worse.
It was also something not even his powers could destroy….
But he knew where he could find the next best thing.
The 4th arrondissement of Paris; Cathédrale Notre-Dame.
The building was practically ruins, what with the wooden roof being mostly gone since the fire a few years back.
For a while, it had still served as a popular tourist destination, at least until the wind, rain, and snow had begun to compromise structural integrity.
Only a few of the inner rooms were still deemed safe to enter, as such, it was only a matter of time until this whole site was condemned.
Breaking in was too easy.
Descending down to all fours kicked up clouds of dust, further proof he was the first visitor in a while.
It had been a while. But he knew exactly what he was looking for as he left the alter and purrused the connecting halls that were still standing.
Several statues and paintings had been saved from the flames and transported to the Louvre for safe-keeping, but many more had been left behind, too damaged to be worth salvaging.
This was the case for the painting he sought; the frame was crumbling, and the smoke and soot had distorted its colors and curled the edges- so fragile, certainly a mere breath would cause it to crumble.
A red-robed priest performing a baptism on a kneeling couple…. Saint Valentine.
Spearing his weapon into the painted figure was all it took for the ancient painting to deteriorate to nothing.
That was…
Unsatisfying.
No, he felt even more restless than before. This still wasn’t enough.
Wiping away wetness from his neon purple eyes that was caused from all the dust in the air and definitely NOT anything else, he looked around the decrepit cathedral.
It wasn’t in use anymore for sermons, but that didn’t stop its followers. Forever eager to reclaim their former glory and make a quick euro off the pain and suffering of others…
Approaching a row of broken pews, he remembers the members of congregation that had tried to “comfort” him, mere moments after his mother took her final breath.
“She’s in a better place now.”
Cataclysm.
A splintered pew was now nothing more than a pile of ash.
“It’s all part of a grand plan.”
Cataclysm.
A tall, weather-rusted candelabra succumbs to oblivion.
“She’s finally returned to grace.”
Cataclysm.
“She’ll always be watching over you.”
Cataclysm.
“You should tell your father that she’ll be able to rest easier if you let us handle the des rites funéraires, we’ll even give a special price-“
CATACLYSM!
The stone column gave way and vanished…Leaving nothing to support what was left of the roof, the weight of its collapse bringing down pillar after pillar, crushing the altar, what was left of the organ pipe, and sending debris to smash out of the stained glass window.
For a moment, as the dust settled, there was silence.
Rubble shifted, and with a cough, Adrien dug himself out of the mess he had created. Thanks to the magic of his suit, there wasn’t a scratch on him.
Surveying the damage wrought by his hissy-fit, he felt the tension in his chest dissipate.
This…
…Was satisfying!
This was exactly the level of destruction he’d been craving!
He couldn’t help his pleased smirk, but it was short lived- a black ear twitched at the sound of distant sirens.
Enforcers were coming. It was time for this cat to scat.
He wasn’t worried, he was faster than them, by the time they got there he would be long gone.
He made a dramatic show of dusting himself off for absolutely no one before using his stick to lift himself up and leap out of the wreckage to observe the Enforcers’ reactions from a safe distance.
This dump had been falling down on its own anyway, all he did was speed up the process.
There was no reason for anyone to suspect anything other than the inevitable decay of a rotten building long past its prime.
The Supreme should have no issues with that.
Adrien was feline a lot better after that little workout and was ready to call it a night.
Slinking through the tall windows of his bedroom with ease, he called off his transformation-
Only to wince in pain.
This was new.
De-transforming had never hurt before.
He was certain he didn’t injure himself, could he even be injured in the suit?
The pain was centered in his stomach… Was it because he skipped dinner?
He put a hand on his abdomen and cringed at how tender it felt.
He ignored the floating black kwami that followed after him into the bathroom- there was no point in acknowledging the creature; all it did was glare at him (and try to knock things off shelves before Adrien gave him the order to stop).
It probably wanted to be fed, or, whatever you called shoving a piece of food into that red symbol over its mouth- it was annoying but it had to be done at least once on days he transformed, according to the instructions on the tablet he’d received.
Adrien still had that untouched bag of gougères the Gorilla had purchased that day at at bakery. He’d give the kwami one of those, right after he figured out what was wrong with his own stomach.
Facing the mirror, Adrien lifted his shirt and stifled a gasp;
In the center of his torso, just above his belly button, no bigger than a €1 coin, was what looked like a small black bruise that was beginning to spider outwards.
He was too bewildered to notice the kwami’s reflection in the mirror.
…If he had, he would’ve seen that for the first time, Plagg was looking at him with pity.
The World Under The Supreme - The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.
Action packed posts with Claw Noir and Shadybug are coming but some important details of their world need to be addressed first! These will be relevant in posts to come.
So prepare yourself; EmoNette and EmoAdrien live in a dark world… A world that Betterfly hopes to change.
The GOOD:
Religion is not a crime, which is why celebrating holidays like Christmas, Chanukah, Kwanza, etc. is permitted, even if the true meaning behind those celebrations has been lost over the years.
After all, for some people, their faith is all they have- Plus, it’s good for capitalism!
HOWEVER, organized religion is nearly a thing of the past…
In every country, Churches, Temples, Mosques, etc. are HEAVILY TAXED.
The Supreme has the ONLY say in law, so religious “leaders” have no authority or power. So, unable to become filthy rich off of devout believers, and unable to sway people to commit atrocities in the name of “God”, there is no point.
As such, those who do still have some kind of belief in a deity, choose to practice quietly at home.
As a result, there is peace!
Women all over the world have autonomy over their own bodies AND reproductive rights!
Girls are allowed to learn to read without fear of being burned with acid.
Circumcision of boys and girls (yes, some countries mutilate girl’s genitalia for religious reasons) no longer exists.
Only old grannies wear hijab because women actually have a choice (not just wear it or be stoned to death).
THERE IS NO CASTE SYSTEM.
No child marriages.
Pedophilia is rare.
Homosexuality is not illegal.
Anti-vaxers DO NOT EXIST!
So there has been a lot of progress in medicine (good news for Rose!)
No school teaches creationism or claims that man lived at the same time as dinosaurs.
But churches, even famous ones like Notre Dame, Sistine Chapel, Saint Basil's Cathedral, etc. are seen as old relics… tourist sight seeing destinations at most.
But with the taxes being so heavy, and so few people who identify with any religion, it is not profitable to maintain up-keep on these decrepit buildings.
As such, when they fall into enough disrepair as to be considered “unsafe” even for tourists, they too will be condemned and demolished so the land can be purchased by the highest bidder and something more useful will be constructed there.
The BAD:
Mutual aid is a crime… Socialism is forbidden… Protests are not tolerated and severely punished!
There is no such thing as Charity.
There are no donations of toys to sick kids in hospitals.
(Prince Ali, non-existent is he, Ali never-heard-of-ya’… Princes and Kings, no such things, only The Supreeeeeme~)
*No, I will not write out the whole dang song. I don’t want to get sued by a company with mouse ears, thanks.
Everyone pays their own way in life. Those that can’t pay are forced to work (which is why there are no homeless people asking for spare change on the streets).
There is no cooperation without compensation.
The strange, odd, abnormal ones are those who wish to offer help without expecting anything in return.
(You can’t achieve freedom with one person. Freedom is only achieved by collective cooperation, sacrifice, and compassion for others, no matter how different they may be. So long as everyone only looks out for themselves and keeps their heads down rather than risk getting punished for sticking their neck out for others, Freedom for all is impossible. This is the dark price of Wang Fu’s wish for World Peace.)
The Ugly:
Everyone pays the price for selfishness. Especially the planet.
In a world that only cares about “me”, the comforts and profits of the current generation, there is little to no concern for what future generations will inherit, including the planet.
Quick and easy money, progress for profit with no consideration for environmental impact has been the norm since the end of WW2.
Pollution is a world wide issue;
Costs of food are higher everywhere because crops and livestock take a LOT of money to grow.
Crops (grain, fruit, and vegetables) have always been more expensive of course because they require so much land, water, time, and workers to produce.
But with polluted air darkening skies, tainted soil, rapid decline of bees, butterflies, and bats, and such dirty water… Plants are suffering.
Crops require massive greenhouse facilities, heavily filtered hydroponics systems, and hundreds of thousands of human workers to pollinate things by hand (yes, we do that even now for rare plants), or at least until Tsurugi Enterprises can develop robots to replace human workers.
Since grass is not that hardy and expensive to maintain, free range livestock is just not possible. And since most grain has no nutritional value for humans (we can’t really digest it, it is mainly grown to fatten livestock) it is even more expensive since it is a pain in the butt to produce and is mainly consumed by animals, thus meat, dairy, and egg prices have gone up.
Flowers are more expensive than jewelry.
Since only the hardiest plants can endure the world’s level of pollution, many animals have gone extinct and forests are suffering.
Only the richest of cities still have “parks” though they are a far cry from what we think of as parks.
Most flowers are delicate, so many varieties that we are familiar with can not be grown in your average backyard garden or found in pots on a balcony.
An orchid flower is worth more than a diamond.
The hardy, invasive, “ugly” flowers that we consider as weeds have replaced the wildflowers we once knew.
Only the rich can afford to go to a florist to afford luxuries like carnations, tulips, lilies, daffodils, snapdragons, lilacs, peonies, or something as flashy as a rose.
But thanks to Bertrand King, even the lower class can enjoy the beauty of a bouquet thanks to plastic flowers!
Plastic truly is fantastic!
And unlike, fragile, boring, real flowers… PLASTIC FLOWERS can come in any color you want! And they last forever!
Even a poor man can feel rich if they decorate their home with plastic potted ferns!
The best part? You don’t have to waste water! They are so hygienic too! No dirt, no bugs, no allergies, no rotting, dying leaves to prune and clean up! No worries about little kids or pets eating poison leaves!
Plastic plants never lose their luster! They are durable, washable, colorful!
Can’t afford a diamond?
You buy cubic zirconia!
Can’t afford a houseplant?
Buy plastic!
Of course, there IS one event where even someone living paycheck to paycheck can get a chance to see a variety of REAL flowers (assuming they can pay the admission fee).
Every year, people all over the globe celebrate “World Peace Day”, where they give thanks to The Supreme for putting an end to WW2 and preventing any other war thereafter!
There is no celebration more massive!
On that day, Major cities show off their wealth (through the taxes of the citizens) to throw not only parades, but have massive displays of real flowers for citizens to admire (for a price).
It is a day many look forward to!
A day that celebrates peace between all people regardless of race, ethnicity, or religion!
Hi! Just wanna say that I've been looking through your archive so that I can read everything from the start. Your writing is really good and I'm invested in the story you've crafted for the alternate world!
Shadybug’s Taste of Revenge- A Menu of Miraculous Misuse
What was that old saying about revenge and a cold dish?
That sounded too much like a single serving.
After YEARS of torture, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was planning on serving Chloe Bourgeois an entire buffet!
Thanks to The Supreme’s generous gift, she was finally able to put the meal plan in motion.
That evil, selfish, racist brat would FINALLY get what’s coming to her, and Marinette would savor every moment…
After receiving her Miraculous, kwami servant, and a tablet listing rules she needed to follow,
(See this post here) Marinette had spent the days of her weekend compiling a list of everything Chloe had ever done, and how she wanted to pay her back.
She spent the nights testing her transformation and the abilities that came with it:
Standing still, she didn’t really feel any different. But as she moved, she noticed her body felt lighter, took far less effort for motion, and required little stamina.
Having a room with roof access made sneaking out easy. Still, she had to really hype herself up to make that first jump.
But it was worth it!
Parkour was as simple as a video-game; as if the suit could somehow sense what she wanted to do- leaping from roof to roof was a piece of cake, there wasn’t even any strain on her muscles. It was insane how fast she could run without feeling out of breath. Plus, for the first time in her life, instead of being a klutz who could trip over air, she was nimble and sure-footed as anyone in Les championnats de France Elite de gymnastique!
The Yo-yo had been trickier to get the hang of; she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed- The Supreme, most powerful force on earth, gives her magic earring that grant her super-human strength and agility… and a yo-yo? Based on its use, a grappling hook would’ve made more sense.
Maybe The Supreme had a weird aesthetic?
Whatever.
The Lucky Charm feature was far more interesting…
The first time she summoned it, it granted her a small, red and black polka-dotted, hand-held device with a green screen showing a grid map of Paris, and dozens of blinking dots that seemed to move around the arrondissements in a pattern.
After zooming in to look at specific streets it clicked in… This was radar. It was showing her the real-time Enforcer patrol routes!
Being caught outside of your residence after curfew was a serious violation for all citizens.
Enforcers diligently policed the city-keeping an eye out for deviants, vandals, and other would-be criminals who would dare leave their homes after dark.
In the list of rules The Supreme had sent her, it was made clear that she was NOT to be seen.
Rooftop travel would make it easy to avoid most of them, but if she wanted to scope out the layout and security features of both the school and the Grand Paris Hotel, it would be better to do so after Enforcers had already passed those areas, and leave before they came back.
The Hotel had pretty tight security, and not knowing to limits of her Lucky Charm, she decided the School was the best option to start, at least until she was more proficient with her powers.
———————
That 2nd week of school is dedicated to research and spying, and by Thursday, Marinette has a better grasp of Chloe’s schedule than her underling, Sabrina.
(C’mon, if Marinette in the Prime universe can have a pull down chart in her room with the schedule of the boy she likes- a boy who has a bodyguard and an overprotective father- then emoMarinette could easily figure out the schedules of people she hates.)
Friday morning she is up before dawn; she needs to get to school before it opens to put her plan in motion, then back home again in time to “wake-up” as Marinette to avoid raising suspicions.
(She does not have a super-villain name yet, since she believes no one will see her or talk to her, why would she need to give her transformed look a name?)
Transforming and swinging from rooftop to rooftop with her yo-yo means she can get to the school in less than 3 minutes.
Just in time; Custodian M. Haprèle has just arrived and is making his rounds to get Francois Dupont ready before the rest of the faculty arrives.
Avoiding a single man is easier than trying to sneak past several teachers and students.
She waits until he exits the door leading to the boiler room, his first task of the day- she knows that now he will go to unlock each room, turn on the lights and radiators, before he does a sweep of the main courtyard.
Being a private school, those tasks won’t take long, so she knows she must move quickly.
Even though M. Haprèle is unlikely to return to the boiler room until his routine inspection at the end of the day, she can’t risk being noticed leaving the room if he happens to be passing by.
The stairs lead to an eerie hallway that is thankfully lit, but only just so.
Her heart races when she spots the aqua glow of her prize; the school boiler.
Responsible for heating not only water, but regulating the temperature of every classroom.
It was like a big pressure-cooker, and she would use it to prepare the apéritifs of her revenge.
Pulling up her yo-yo and activating the smartphone feature (which was odd because who would she even call??) she did a quick internet image search for comparison in order to identify the expansion tank and the pressure valve.
Summoning her Lucky Charm gave her a red and black polka-dotted pipe-wrench.
Normal Marinette was weak, but with the strength her transformation gave her, she was able to turn the filling loop all the way on, and shut the pressure release valve off, and twist it impossibly tight.
She couldn’t help her self-satisfactory smirk; she’d just turned the school’s heating system into a ticking time bomb.
Step one was complete. Now to go home so Marinette could get ready for a very exciting day of school.
——————————-
It is in the middle of second class when it happens…
The classroom radiator whistles and hisses violently, releasing scalding hot steam into the room that fogs Mme. Mendeleiev’s glasses.
Shrieks can be heard from nearby classrooms, but they are soon drowned out by what could be mistaken as a crash of thunder.
Directeur Damocles activates the intercom system and orders to evacuate all students immediately!
Despite teachers insisting that everyone remain calm and to leave in an orderly fashion, there is panic; sobbing over steam burns, anxious questions over what’s happening, students shoving to get through the door first, either out of fear or excitement to get out of class, and over all the din there is a distinct banshee wail of a certain blonde threatening to have her daddy sue the school over what the burst of steam has done to her hair!
…No one notices Marinette slipping away to the locker room.
Confident she is alone, she transforms.
She knows she has to act quickly, so she starts with the easiest target; Sabrina Raincomprix’ locker.
C’est du gâteau! Sabrina is completely brainwashed into being Chloe’s slave, so naturally her locker combination is that witch’s birthdate.
(A day EVERYONE knows by heart since every year Chloe makes a big spectacle of bragging how amazing her party will be since she is so rich.
Naturally, anyone foolish enough to ask if they could be invited was laughed at and insulted for having such audacity.)
Chloe Bourgeois had never done her own homework in her life. That’s what underlings were for…
In Sabrina’s locker sat an entire weeks worth of homework for both her and Chloe, including a science report they needed to present to Mme. Mendeleiev- the most unforgiving teacher in school- and it was all due TODAY.
There was no time for Sabrina to re-do all of it for herself, let alone a separate, slightly different set for Chloe.
Not only would the teachers be upset over so much missing work, but even an airhead like Mme. Bustier would have to be a little suspicious that both girls claim to have lost all their homework.
How many times had Marinette’s grades suffered because those two stole her notes, vandalized her locker and its contents, or dropped her textbook into a toilet?
How many times did the teachers blame her for not paying attention in class, forgetting to do her work, or just being a total klutz because anytime she tried to tell them who was really at fault, it was always her word against Chloe and Sabrina’s?
How many times did everyone decide that Marinette’s word meant nothing?
There was no time to count.
Marinette had one more fish she wanted to frire for this course; Lê Chiến Kim.
Summoning her Lucky Charm this time got her a red and black polka-dotted stethoscope.
It had to be magic. That was the only way she could explain being able to use it to crack the combination on Kim’s locker even quicker than what Marinette had seen in movies.
The school swim team had a meet after school today, and Kim was prepared with all his gear in his locker, including his goggles which just so happened to have his name printed on the waterproof label on the strap.
The only thing Kim loved more than swimming was practical jokes.
Let’s see who will have the last laugh~
———————————
Directeur Damocles is NOT happy.
He’d had to call in both the Enforcers AND the Fire Department, and the school budget was going to suffer a major cut in order to pay for it.
(Remember, under The Supreme there is no socialism, so receiving any kind of service from the Fire Department or law enforcement will cost you, as mentioned here.)
The Boiler had over-pressurized and exploded.
Not only would it have to be replaced, but there was sure to be a lawsuit or two from the angry parents of students who had been unfortunate enough to be seated close to their classroom’s radiator.
Thankfully, any burns were superficial at worst, and after some quick first aid, Captain Hessenpy had assured them that a simple store bought ointment would be enough and redness would fade in a couple days.
Though that assurance would probably do little to appease the ire of some parents.
The drawbacks of being principal of a private school were undoubtedly all related to the students’ parents.
Everyone enrolled came from a family that was well off, and a good deal even had family’s with a degree of influence.
Even worse, nearly every student’s parents believed their child deserved only the very best, which is why they enrolled in Collège Françoise Dupont in the first place.
As such, an incident as large as this was unacceptable.
People would demand answers and for someone to be held responsible… Which could lead to the school being shut down!
Never mind losing his job, at this rate, Denis Damoclés would never find work in the field of education again!!
What if he was arrested for gross negligence? What if the debt for property damage and personal lawsuits was so overwhelming he had to spend the rest of his life in a penitentiary labor camp to work it off?!
No, this wasn’t his fault…
Fred Haprèle; HE was Gardien d'école!
It was HIS job to inspect the boiler before and after school.
If anyone should be held accountable for this disaster, it was him.
M. Damocles interrogates M. Haprèle without mercy; He checked the Boiler room this morning and everything was fine? HA! A likely story! As if he’d believe-
But he is interrupted by Enforcer Raincomprix;
After some investigation, a suspicious item was discovered at the scene of the explosion.
A pair of swimming goggles.
——————
What a beautiful day.
The kind of day that left you feeling nostalgic;
Marinette remembers that day last year all too clearly…
She had mustered all the courage she could wring out of her tiny body to ask Kim out.
She steeled herself for rejection.
She wouldn’t blame him- she was the biggest loser in school.
She expected him to say “hard pass”.
She hoped he would turn her down gently.
She thought he’d think it was a joke.
She never dreamed he’d say “yes”.
But he did, and she was on cloud nine!
On the bus she couldn’t help but imagine all the dates they would go on once the school year was over.
In her head, she was already designing the gift she would make for Kim’s next Birthday, and the gift she would make him for Valentine’s day, for Christmas, for his next next Birthday…
Not that she didn’t still have some jitters- there was always the chance that Kim would change his mind and she would be stood up. Or maybe he never intended to show up in the first place but had felt too awkward and put on the spot to say “no” to her face??
But all that anxiety melted away when she arrived at the pool and Kim was waiting for her with a smile.
They’d had so much fun! The most fun she’d had in a long time.
They played pool games, and Kim showed off his dives and made her laugh.
Marinette felt so comfortable with him.
He was so nice… In fact, he was the only one who’d ever been nice to her.
It seemed so perfect, she’d been so happy that she couldn’t help herself-
She let the words slip out;
“Je t'aime.”
Those words came back to bite her in the form of dozens of spiders, crawling up her arms, her shoulders, her neck, even down inside her swimsuit, and they were actually biting her!!
She screamed and flailed about, hopping like some kind of panicked chicken, swatting madly at her limbs and torso while Kim laughed hysterically, before she fell backwards into the pool.
Even as she sputtered and swallowed a mouthful of chlorinated pool water, she still instinctively clawed at her own body, still feeling dozens of tiny, itchy, little legs crawling all over her.
When she finally came up for air, Kim was still laughing, and he wasn’t alone- Chloe and Sabrina were there, snickering and recording the whole thing.
All Marinette could do was crawl out of the pool like a wounded animal and scurry away to the changing rooms to pray the earth would split open and swallow her up.
It didn’t.
Chloe posted the video online, and by the time Marinette managed to get home, it had already gone viral.
The last two weeks of school were filled with new nasty names and insults, there was even a contest where boys tried to see who could do the best impersonation of her freak-out.
Someone took the original video and made a remix, complete with clownish sound effects.
She was a walking meme.
She cried herself to sleep every night, wishing that she had drowned in that pool.
Not that anyone would care, but with enough bad press, they’d have to at least pretend like they were sorry.
Which is why Marinette wasn’t sorry at all when M. Damocles expelled Kim in front of the entire school.
The moment Enforcer Raincomprix read aloud the name on the strap of those goggles, students began to whisper.
Kim was well known for stupid dares and obnoxious pranks.
As far as everyone was concerned, the evidence was incriminating enough to justify M. Damocles decision and have Enforcers escort Kim off school grounds.
Whether it was enough to have Kim sent to maison de correction and have his family foot the bill for property damages, who could say?
It didn’t matter if it was enough to convict him or not; the accusation alone would tarnish his reputation forever.
Forget getting accepted into a University, no job would be willing to hire him, considering how many kids had important families who loved to gossip.
Kim would have to move to another city, maybe even another country!
(Marinette also couldn’t help but notice that a few of the students complaining of burns were the same who gave her particularly nasty nicknames last year, including “water-phobic retard.” That had to be the power of the Lucky Charm, right?)
It was savory and satisfying.
But Lê Chiến Kim was nothing more than a hors d'oeuvres, and Marinette was far from feeling full.
With Kim out of the way, she could now devote her time and extra care to people who really mattered.
Speaking of which….
Despite needing to get back home to run the register at the Bakery, Marinette was willing to risk her mother’s lecture in order to hang back after school to catch a lovely show-
After determining the premises was safe, students were allowed to return to classes, and the fruits of Marinette’s labor paid off.
Now, Chloe was screaming at Sabrina, actually smacking the ginger haired girl’s head with her designer purse, and accusing her of being useless, utterly useless!
Not only was Mme. Mendeleiev unwilling to extend the deadline for the science report, she was planning to call their parents to let them know their daughters have been slacking off in school.
AND IT WAS ALL SABRINA’S FAULT! How could she forget to bring their homework?! Why does she even bother to keep her around?!
(Mme. Bustier was also very disappointed, and concerned that both girls somehow forgot an entire week of homework. She is willing to extend her deadlines, but she will have to deduct points away from their grade for being tardy.)
Sabrina insists she didn’t forget! She had everything done and ready to be turned in! She had it all in her locker this morning!
Chloe isn’t interested in excuses, and says that if Sabrina is going to be this incompetent, she can easily be replaced.
This leaves the other girl sobbing, begging on her knees for another chance, swearing she’ll do better!
Yes, this was what would make it all worth it, and it was only the beginning!
These two had done far too much for their punishment to be a one-and-done.
They deserved to suffer slowly, steadily, having their misery increase little by little until they were the ones crying till their eyes were swollen shut, wishing they were dead.
HESPERIA/BETTERFLY kamikotized heroes Headcanons PART 3
Warning, this may make animal lovers uneasy for a bit.
This one is going to take place during the day, around Adrien and Marinette’s 2nd week of school, so they are still toying around with their Miraculous’ at night for their own personal gains, and have not yet suffered the consequences and been instructed to hunt down the Butterfly-man in order to save themselves.
Promise that the next one will show our fav villains in action, but for now I hope there are fans of Mr. Pigeon reading this because-
Xavier Ramier becomes……
Sauvaquateur!
(This is my attempt at combining the French words for “Savior” and “Aquatic”, into a new, superhero name. Fun fact: In 1979, the U.S. Coast Guard trained pigeons to locate people lost at sea and they had a 90% success rate!
Also remember S4, ep 4, “Mr. Pigeon 72”)
As mentioned in my post “Shadybug’s Paris Headcanons”, in this universe, pigeons are far less welcome in Paris than they are in the Good/Prime universe, so there is no need for a Pigeon-Tamer.
There IS a need for Environmental technicians though… a DIRE need.
(In this Universe, imagine the world under The Supreme’s control as slightly less extreme than North Korea under Kim Jong-un, and about as polluted as Gaya, India.)
Luckily, construction plans for “Project Oxygen”, endorsed by M. Bertrand King, have been submitted and are awaiting approval from The Supreme. In theory, once they’ve built enough towers, it should take care of the awful smog problem in Paris.
But that won’t help with toxicity in the soil and water.
Which is why M. Ramier is outside on a particularly gloomy day, in full yellow hazmat gear and neon orange rubber galoshes, attempting to collect water samples from the Saint-Martin canal.
Trash aside, people just didn’t realize how much of the poison they put out for rats (and those poor, adorable, misunderstood pigeons) ended up in the Seine, resulting in its present, disgustingly polluted state.
Xavier can’t help but daydream of simpler times he has never known, like the ones depicted in old photographs and paintings.
In his personal collection, he has a precious family keepsake, a postcard to his great-grandfather sent by his great-uncle in 1912;
It depicted such a happy scene of blue skies and even bluer water, and people gathered to merrily feed the pigeons with smiling faces near the Seine.
Not for the first time, he can’t help but wonder if perhaps he was simply born in the wrong decade…
Instead, here he is, collecting vial after vial of what is closer to sludge than water at different points along the canal for chemical analysis and comparison.
It’s dull and dreary.
Or, at least it’s dreary…
The dullness comes to a rather abrupt end when a low bellowing sound draws his attention to a large, sludge covered something twitching near the bank beneath The Pont des Arts, (or as we know it, The Love Lock bridge, though in this universe there are no locks) a mere 4 meters away from him.
Mon Dieu!
He thought the rumors were merely that; rumors dreamt up to keep children away from the filthy water.
But blessed be; that really is a crocodile!
Where on earth did he come from??
(Somewhere in a shoddy apartment, Jagged, or rather, Jared, sneezes and feels a strange pang of guilt.)
The poor fellow doesn’t look too well; not that M. Ramier claimed to have any expertise in crocodilian health, but he was almost certain that the creature’s spine was not meant to be quite so prominent.
He also could not recall ever seeing a crocodile lay on its side like that, half floating in the water, half… Hold on, was it tethered to something????
Merciful heavens! Discarded plastic Enforcer barrier tape had found its way into the canal and gotten tangled up around this poor beast’s jowls and caught upon who knows what kind of garbage submerged near the bank.
Sloshing his way over, M. Ramier had only intended to get close enough to attempt to at least cut the plastic tape where it was tethered closest to the bank in hopes the lack of tension would loosen it enough that the crocodile could free himself.
But the croc sensed his approach and grew frightened, letting out a warning growl and weakly thrashing his too thin tail, before jerking wildly and tightening the noose in the process.
At this rate the beast would strangle himself!
This was terrible!
Oh, that poor creature….
But, what could he do? He was merely an Environmental Technician, trained to collect and study water samples.
He supposed he could try contacting the ‘Ménagerie du Jardin des Plantes’ (the zoo), but by the time they decided to send someone over, if they decided to send anyone over, it might be too late!
If only he could help… He became an Environmental Technician due to his love of animals and a desire to make the world a better place for them, and now there was a creature in desperate need of aid right in front of him and he was completely powerless…
He does not see the glowing butterfly perch upon the sample vial in his gloved hand, nor does he notice it vanish.
He’s far too preoccupied with the sudden voice in his head:
The voice introduces himself as Betterfly, and claims that he too shares a love of animals.
The voice offers him the power he needs to save this suffering creature, and asks if he will accept this gift for the greater good.
M. Ramier accepts, though, he’s not really Xavier Ramier anymore…
The stained yellow of his suit melts away to a pristine white, and the neon orange of his rubber boots has given way to a striking cyan and become more fin-like in appearance.
His rubber gloves share the same shade of blue, as does the “star of life” symbol overlaying the outline of a rescue bird on his chest.
Somehow, his sample vial has inexplicably transformed into a rather impressive hand operated bilge pump.
He feels stronger, more confident, more daring.
He is now Sauvaquateur!
Holstering the pump at his waist, he dives into the water with the grace of a tropical clawed frog, Sauvaquateur swims with amphibious ease thanks to his new, webbed gloves, and is able to take a firm hold of the weakened crocodile and bring him the the bank of the canal.
(Another fun fact: The Seine is 9.5 metres or 31 ft. deep and you should absolutely NOT swim in it without superpowers.)
With his newfound strength, he makes quick work of tearing that horrid plastic off the poor creature, and feels satisfied that he has successfully rescued his new, scaly friend!
…..Except, the crocodiles eyes do not seem to be open.
He’s also rather still, perhaps too still-
He’s not breathing!
Panic takes hold as Sauvaquateur fears he was too late after all, but the voice returns to him;
Betterfly urges him to remain calm, hope is not lost yet, but he must come to his senses!
….That’s right, he mustn’t give up!
Sauvaquateur presses his head against the crocodile’s rough back near where he thinks a heart should be.
Perhaps it is due to Betterfly’s “gift”, but even through his suit’s protective helmet, Sauvaquateur swears he can hear a weak thumping sound.
There is a heartbeat but no breath; what should he do? How does one go about performing rescue breathing on a crocodile?! Would that even help????
Again, Betterfly’s soothing voice echoed in his mind, urging him to look closer…
Looking closely, the crocodile seemed to have an awfully bloated stomach yet such a thin looking back… Could it be-?
Eyeing the bilge pump holstered at his side, Sauvaquateur knew he had to try!
Using incredible strength he now unfathomably possessed, he did what should not have been humanly possible; he pried the crocodile’s mouth open and placed the hose of the pump inside.
It only takes 5 good thrusts of the plunger rod before a burst of toxic brown water and wads of plastic come spewing out of the pump’s outlet.
Sauvaquateur shudders at the thought of all that rubbish inside that poor animal.
It’s a feeling that Betterfly shares.
Its stomach noticeably deflated, and its scales a shade less pale than they were only a few moments prior, the crocodile takes a deep, relieving breath.
Sauvaquateur does the same.
With the croc out of immediate danger, and now fast asleep, Betterfly praises Sauvaquateur for his valiant efforts, and suggests that now would be a good time to let someone more experienced take over.
Sauvaquateur agrees.
He can feel the “gift” leave him- like the sensation of color being gently stripped away.
He is left in his muddy, yellow suit, and his plain orange rubber boots. His water sample vial, now empty, rests at his feet.
M. Ramier is not sure what just happened exactly; it’s a bit fuzzy, like waking up from a peculiar dream.
He could’ve sworn he was talking to someone just now….
But the loud snoring from the large, slumbering reptile beside him reminds him that there are far more pressing matters at hand.
Moving to a more comfortable distance, Xavier unzips his outer suit in order to pull out his mobile phone and place a call.
He is placed on hold for frustrating amount of time before a M. Césaire answers and M. Ramier informs him of his predicament.
It’s not long after that when Enforcer sirens sound along the banks, forming a protective barrier and trying to hold back inquiring news photographers eager to get a shot of “Saint Martin’s Beast.”
M. Césaire is there as well, and he expertly secures the crocodile’s jaws shut before he and an assistant lift and haul the creature into the back of a van to transport to the zoo for examination.
M. Ramier is harshly admonished for getting so close to such a dangerous animal and is informed that it is a miracle he is unharmed.
side note: I just read Adrien's and Marinette 's origin story posts. Of COURSE i love them. But nice touch on the ending. These were two reprieve but you just reminded us of the darkness of their world and the supreme.
You are going to continue with the Kamikotz--- can't pronounce that word--- heroes right? I'm so invested .
keep this coming! :D
of course! Just had to het these ideas out of my head first
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