Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Fandom:
Relationships:
Characters:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Series:
Part 1 of The Luckyblogger Alya Césaire: Journaling Miraculous Arcane/Occult Events For The Luckyblog
Stats:
Published:
2020-07-27
Updated:
2023-10-07
Words:
190,752
Chapters:
13/?
Comments:
37
Kudos:
122
Bookmarks:
23
Hits:
5,914

Vlog For Me

Summary:

Alya Césaire’s lived a fairly normal life... until she came to Paris and got introduced to its superheroes, Lady Luck and Karma, and supervillains, Mme. Mite and M. Méfait.

Now, this budding journalist is gonna become the city’s leading expert on the magical and supernatural, while providing whatever help she can for the heroes with the "luckyblog." Not only is Alya a hardcore superhero fan but, maybe with all the magic and chaos in the air, she's developed the uncanny (and unlucky) ability to always find herself in the middle of magical brawls. Who else but her is perfect for the job? Besides, who wouldn't want to help out superheroes given the chance?

Notes:

Disclaimer: I do not own Miraculous Ladybug nor do I make money from writing

A/N: No characters were whitewashed in creation of this fanfiction

Chapter 1: let Bunnyx handle it

Summary:

The avatar of time has some sound advice for the new kid, after a day gone wrong.

Notes:

A/N: This story’s idea came to me while writing Mesh and how Alya almost always found herself in the chaos, now given how I already had her set to receive a Miraculous there, I was thinking: what would it be like if she wasn’t a Miraculous holder but was still an all-around badass? And thus, this idea was formed!

Nooroo cannot feel the emotions of others in this story; how people get akumatized happens differently than in the show

Wikipedia told me collège (middle school) and lycée (high school) refer to their teachers as professeur

I belatedly realized, twelve chapters in, that I never gave Émilie's miraculous a camouflaged description; although now that I think about it, that is because I never wrote her with it not transformed.

Chapter Text

Thursday, September 3rd, 2020


Alya looks at herself in the mirror. She puts her hair in a high ponytail as she examines her first day outfit hanging on the door: a long-sleeve plaid red and yellow button-up shirt and a pair of grey jeans.


Her mother, Marlena, landed the head chef job at Le Grand Paris Château so the whole family up and moved from Louisiana, North America to Paris, France.


Her father, Otis, was filling out an application for a job at the zoo. Nora, her elder sister, traveled already for her kickboxing circuit so the move was no change for her. Likewise her little sisters, Etta and Ella, had no problem with moving because they hadn’t started school yet.


Moving wasn’t... necessarily a problem with her, meant she wasn't around long enough to be that weird kid obsessed with superheroes and superpowers.


The family arrived in the city two days ago, just in time for the first day of the school year – as Nora liked to remind her. Her mother was going to register her and if everything went well, she’d be starting school today too.


She puts on her lucky Knightowl undershirt then takes her first day outfit off the door and gets dressed.

Alya puts on her small silver hoop earrings and grabs her chapstick, lotion, and hand sanitizer putting them in her backpack’s front pocket then grabs her notebooks, notepad, cell phone charger, and calculator stuffing them into her backpack. She puts on her Super Mackerel red and yellow socks then hoists her Knightowl backpack over her shoulder.


Marlena is on the phone but she waves her second-oldest over. While still talking on the phone, Marlena loosens some strands of Alya’s hair so they fall around her face. She bids the person she’s on the phone with goodbye then gives her daughter a thumbs-up. “Better.”

“Thanks, Ma. I’m all set. What’s my school’s name again?”


“François Düpont.” Marlena replies. “It’s fairly new... less than a decade old, but rumored to be one of the best schools in the city.” The orange-haired woman shrugs. “Seeing is believing. If you’re all set we’re off. Have to drop by my new job to check-in with slash meet the boss. They say the Bourgeois family is impossible to please and they go through head chefs like the latest fashion craze.” Alya whistles.


“Don’t worry, Ma, you got this. If they’re the first people ever to fire Marlena Césaire, the whole world will know it’s because of their incompetence not because of your inability to make some bomb ass food.”

“I was fired from my first two jobs, you know.”


“One was a racist clown who got their restaurant shut down because of you so that’s a win, and the second fired you before you became Marlena Césaire. You were just some cook then. Bet they’ll be taking the credit for your career taking off.”

Marlena laughs cradling her daughter’s face. “What would I do without you, My Light?”


“Have a lot more one-sided arguments.”


“I know! Why are the twins so quick to jump to Otis’ side when we disagree?”


After breakfast, they hop on Marlena’s motorcycle and make their way to François Düpont.


✍🏾


Oh crap! I’m late!”


Sabine looks up at the ceiling hearing her daughter yell, followed by a series of crashes and groans.


“I’ll get the first-aid kit.” Tom says heading into the shop. Sabine pauses drinking her juice when she no longer hears anything.

“Marinette?” There’s a loud bang that has the blue-haired woman jumping up out of her seat. “What the hell was that?” Frowning, Sabine heads up the stairs then opens the trap door to her daughter’s bedroom then gasps when she sees Marinette flailing underneath her mannequins. “Oh, dear. What—how did this happen?”


“I was trying to get my lucky dragonfly clip when I tripped over my purse string, then I fell into one mannequin while the others fell on me. And to top it off I broke my clip!” Struggling not to laugh, Sabine helps her daughter up.


“Xiè xiè, māmā.”


Sabine tip toes to pat her daughter’s head. “I know the school is the next block over but you really need to work on your time management.” Marinette nods with a salute, “you also need to change. Your shirt has a huge hole in it.”

Marinette looks down and gasps, “oh no!” She holds out her floral red shirt in front of her grimacing at the gaping hole near the bottom, “I made this outfit specifically for my first day of quatrième!” She runs her hands down her face then gasps and removes her hands, “I’ll have to get the back-up.”

Sabine watches her daughter undress as she runs around her destroyed room. “You made a back-up first day outfit?”


“It was just something new I was fooling around with. I put the finishing touches on it—whoa, when I woke up.” Sabine winces and puts her hands over her eyes as Marinette hops on one foot in nothing but her underwear until she reaches the only upright mannequin that has a red romper on it. “Ta-da~”


Sabine slowly removes her hands as Marinette puts the romper on. “Marinette, this is beautiful!” She gasps, “I mean, I’m always in awe of your clothing but this...” Sabine puts a hand on her cheek. “When did you begin making this?”


“When nǎi nai visited. She helped with the snake. It’s so much harder to stitch together a dragon’s head than its whole body. Snakes were less detailed so I made that instead. I’m gonna take a picture wearing this—”


“Have a seat and let me fix your hair.” They both look around the room, “uh... put some socks on and come downstairs so I can do your hair.”


Marinette nods then tip-toes over everything to find a pair of red socks and holds then up humming. Given she shot up like a rocket over the summer, she had to get an entirely new wardrobe. Of course, that was an excellent reason for her to make herself some new clothes as well as buy some. She puts the socks down then grabs the shoebox under her bed and opens it picking up the red ballet flats with the snake pattern bow she’s sewn into them.


“This is your year, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” She pumps her fists in the air then juggles her flats for a few seconds before grabbing them. “This is your year.” She repeats. Nodding to herself, she leaves her room then trips down the stairs slamming into the wall. “Keep up that optimism.” She murmurs sliding to the floor.


When Marinette regains consciousness her father is sighing pressing a bandage against her cheek. “Are you okay?” He moves his pointer finger in front of her face from side to side, with their standard concussion regimen. “Seeing doubles?” Marinette shakes her head. “Any pain anywhere?”

“No. I feel fine.” She winces as she feels her forehead stinging. Sabine sighs pressing a cotton ball into the bottle of disinfectant.


“You’re gonna have a couple of cool scars to start off your year.” Tom puts another bandage on her face, this time on her forehead.


Meanwhile, Sabine gets to work on styling Marinette’s hair. She combs then parts Marinette’s hair tying the ends into buns. She makes it look effortless compared to when Marinette does it. But that’s natural considering her mother wasn’t cursed with clumsiness. Marinette gets it from Tom, it’s just twice as bad, she also got her father’s height and love of combat sports. From her mother she got her looks, no disrespect to her father but she’s grateful for that, she also got her mother’s critical eye for detail and intolerance for bullshit.


It was Sabine’s mother, Xiùlán, who instilled Marinette’s love of fashion. Watching all sorts of fashion competitions with her. Even having them sew and work on clothing together. Even after they left Shanghai to come to Paris nearly a decade ago, Marinette and Xiùlán always found a way to stay in contact and never miss any fashion competitions.


“You’re good to go.” Tom reports eyeing the box on the counter. Marinette follows his movement and stares at the box with the boulangerie pâtissèrie’s new logo on it – the logo they asked her to design. It’s a simple S & T then a BP in cursive but they went nuts over it.


Right. Every year she carries a box of pâtissèries for her classmates and every year the school’s “queen bee” Chloé Bourgeois – the mayor’s daughter who decided two years ago, when they met, she wanted to make Marinette’s life a living hell – makes some snide comment about her parents pâtissèries, then Marinette makes a comment about Chloé’s (appalling) fashion sense for someone related to The Queen of Fashion, Audrey Bourgeois, then Chloé makes some minor threat about something then pouts for the rest of the school day. Why Damocles kept them in the same class for two years in a row she has no idea? Probably because she’s the only one who won’t take the blonde’s crap. She honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it became three years this year.


Marinette lost track of how many times Chloé’s made a threat to get the boulangerie pâtissèrie shut down in the past, but after Chloé’s own father made a large purchase from their shop for Chloé’s birthday, she moved onto threatening something else.


“How about breakfast?” Sabine asks.


“I’ll just take a pâtissèrie.” She grabs a banana fritter and stuffs half in her mouth then grabs the box and heads to the door putting on her ballet flats and slips her bag over her shoulder. She mumbles her goodbye then leaves the shop.

“Those macarons aren’t gonna make it to the school.” Tom says with a sigh.


“Nope.”


“Oh. Why did I have to give her my clumsiness?!” Tom takes a step then trips over the chair but manages to grip onto the counter so he doesn’t fall on his face. He sighs and Sabine laughs.


Marinette makes it to the crosswalk where there’s heavy foot-traffic heading in her direction. She barely manages to make it to the other side intact and when she turns around to catch her breath she notices the tiny bespectacled old man struggling to cross the street with his cane. How he avoided that crowd is a mystery but Marinette heads over to him before the light changes. She mumbles something momentarily forgetting the fritter in her mouth. The man looks up at her in confusion until she gestures – box in hand – toward the other side of the street.


The guy gets the memo and nods hooking onto her arm so he can cross.


They cross the street but a navy towncar pulls up dangerously close to them and Marinette pulls the guy out of the way accidentally tossing the box into the sky. Then she gapes which has the fritter falling out of her mouth.


The towncar’s back door opens before the chauffeur can open it and Chloé walks out of the towncar and laughs haughtily then freezes and does a double take at Marinette, “whoa!” Scowling, she shakes her head. “So you hit a growth spurt. Doesn’t matter, you’re still you. Watch where you’re going, Dupain-Cheng or I’ll tell my chauffeur to hit you next time.” She flips her ponytail then walks into the boulangerie pâtissèrie.


“That bi—” The old man clears his throat holding out the box to her. “W-Wha—? H-How?”


“They fell into my hand. I could not save the thing that fell out of your mouth, though.”


Marinette sighs, “that’s fine, I’ll mourn my fritter when I get in the school. I appreciate your help.”


The old man shakes his head with a smile, “oh no. It was you that assisted me.” Marinette opens the box and offers it to the man.


“Go on and take one. All my parents' pâtissèries are gluten-free because I’m allergic to gluten. These look like their mint chocolate chip and coffee macarons.”


The man takes one and bites into it moaning appreciatively, “they’re delicious.”


“My parents own the shop right there in case you’re ever looking to satisfy your sweet tooth. They also make savory pâtissèries.”


“I’ll have to take you up on that offer.”


Marinette closes the box. “Do you need help getting to your destination?”


“Oh no. Don’t worry yourself over an old man like me—”


“Are you—” The bell rings, “shit—I-I mean crap.” She winces rubbing the back of her neck then juggles the box and sighs in relief when she doesn’t drop it. “Guess that’s my cue. Take care.”


“And you as well.” He watches the teen walk off then turns to the blonde who exits the boulangerie pâtissèrie glaring at him before getting into the towncar. He watches the towncar drive off in the direction of the school then cracks his back and heads to the shop. He could use a pâtissèrie or two.


And if his hunch about the magic he sensed was correct, he’ll be visiting this shop a lot more.


Marinette skids to a halt bumping into someone standing on the staircase. “Whoa! Are you okay?” An unfamiliar voice asks. Marinette shakes the stars out of her eyes and squints at the blond in front of her.


Adrikins!” She hears Chloé screech then she hears Chloé’s bodyguard yell after her. The blonde glares daggers at Marinette, specifically around the hand that the blond is holding. “You’re gonna get Dupain-Cheng’s clumsy all over you.” She grabs the box of macarons with one hand and the blond’s arm with the other. “I’ll be taking these. They’re in better hands than yours. Come along, Adrikins, I’ll show you around the school. There really isn’t much to look at, though.”

Without the blond’s support, Marinette flails backwards until she falls into something soft. “Good thing I was here.”


“Kim!” She sighs in relief as the brunet sets her upright. Chloé sticks her tongue out at them before dragging the green-eyed blond into the building. Odd. That boy looked kinda familiar. Oh well.

“You okay? I see Chloé’s starting with her shit early this morning, huh?”


Marinette sighs, “I won’t let her get to me this year.”


“Atta girl.” Kim claps her on the back, “does that mean we’re gonna stoop to her level?” He rubs his hands together.


No, Kim. We’re too good for that.”


“We don’t have to be! I’m just itching to be Chloé’s level of petty but you won’t let me.” Marinette laughs putting an arm around Kim’s shoulder as they enter the building.

✍🏾


“What do you mean he left?” It takes everything in the blue-haired woman not to flinch at the tone. “You’re supposed to be keeping track of Adrien 24/7 and even past that! What are we paying you for if you’re not going to do your job?”


“Émilie, I understand your anger but yelling at Nathalie won’t solve anything.” The blonde huffs folding her arms over her chest. “Where did he say he was going?”


“To school.” Nathalie replies.

Émilie and Gabriel exchange a glance. For some inexplicable reason, their son Adrien had become obsessed with teenage dramas recently and claimed to want “a real teenager experience.” Whatever the hell that meant. They admittedly ignored him so that’s probably why he snuck off. But Nathalie not trying to stop him was new. Gabriel hired her seven years ago because of her efficiency, if that was starting to slip she was no longer going to be of use to either of them.


“Find out what ‘school’ Adrien snuck off to then find him and bring him back.” The blonde pauses, “no, wait. On second thought. Don’t do that. We don’t want to seem unreasonable.” Gabriel raises an eyebrow at her and she gives him a knowing look in response. “Check out the school and see if it’s good enough for him. If it is, we let him stay. If it isn’t, we’ll select a school for his caliber.”


Gabriel frowns. “I trust your judgment explicitly, Love, but is this truly a good idea?”

“No, but we’re gonna do it anyway. His tutors are always talking about how he drifts off and has his head in the clouds. Perhaps he won’t be so inclined to do so in a proper school setting. We don’t want him growing up to resent us for taking away the one thing he’s asked us for.”


“Of course, Love.” Émilie shoos Nathalie. The woman bows then quickly walks off.


Smiling, Émilie turns to Gabriel. “Also, if Adrien’s not here he won’t aimlessly wander and find out what we’re up to.”


“That’s a ...fair point, but we are doing this for him too. Shouldn’t he know?”


“No. It’s bad enough he knows he’ll never have a biological sibling because of my stupid body—” Gabriel holds her hands.

“Never say never. It’s why we found the miraculouses. We’re going to make our wish come true and have more children.” Émilie smiles at him. “We should test them out, in the field. Practicing in the atrium only goes so far.”


“Fine.” The blonde playfully rolls her eyes. “Let’s give it a shot.” They walk hand-in-hand to the atrium. Émilie picks up the box on the pedestal and takes out the small lavender oval brooch; as she puts it on her shirt collar it retains its color but changes shape to a hexagon. A tiny lavender butterfly swirls into existence beside the brooch inclining its head.


“Greetings, Mme. Graham de Vanily.”


She pats the butterfly on the head, “greetings to you too, Nooroo.”


Gabriel opens his box on the pedestal and picks up the chrome and blue feathered brooch; when he puts it on his shirt under his tie, the brooch retains its shape but changes color to all bronze. A blue peafowl swirls into existence beside him spinning in the air. “Duusu, stop that.”


“I can’t help myself, M. Agreste~” The peafowl sing-songs, “the love in the air has me feeling giddy.” Gabriel shakes his head with a sigh.


“Nooroo, wings rise.”


"Duusu, spread the feathers.”


The creatures float into their respective jewelry and the humans, holding hands, transform. Émilie is now wearing a lavender mermaid gown and a pair of matching lavender gloves that go all the way to her elbows. A large black butterfly mask covers her entire face sans her mouth, and she grows translucent butterfly wings fluttering at her back. Lastly, she has on a pair of black heels. Gabriel turns blue and has a beret that has feathers flowing downward over his left eye and he’s wearing a navy three-piece suit and navy shoes with peafowl feathers in various shades of blue on his lower back. They turn to each other and kiss.


“Let’s make our wish come true, Gabriel Dear.”


“Let’s, My Love.”

Émilie holds her hand out and conjures a purplish-black butterfly. Beside her, Gabriel takes a feather off his fan and hands it to his wife where she puts the butterfly on. “My precious little akuma, use this feather to find a strong emotion to latch onto and wreck havoc on the city.”


“If the book was right about the Miraculouses needing a Guardian, they’ll show their faces when the city is in danger.”

Émilie holds his hands, “I hope you’re right.”


✍🏾


“Alright Rose, why are we skulking in the halls?”


“We’re...” The blonde pauses for dramatic effect, “gonna start a band!” She exclaims. Ivan stares at her like she’s grown a second head. “C’mon, you don’t think it’ll be fun?”


“Who wants to hear me sing?”


“Mylène might, for one—” Ivan blushes. “Besides, think of the battle of the bands contests we can get into!”

Ivan stares at Rose. Her expression isn’t giving anything away which is odd because Rose is easily the most expressive person Ivan’s ever met. This could just be another fixation his best friend came up with on the fly. He honestly wouldn’t put it past her. “We’re gonna have a band...” He frowns, “with just two people?”


“W-Well, no—” Now Rose frowns then freezes. Ivan follows her movement watching a tall, purple-haired girl walk by with a guitar case strapped to her back. Once she’s no longer visible, Ivan turns to Rose who shrugs with a sheepish smile.


“I see. How do you know she’s not a solo act?”

“I don’t!” Rose wails, “I’ve never seen her before which is odd because I’d remember spotting someone so beautiful!”


“To be honest, Rose, she’s kinda giving off a 'don’t talk to me' vibe.”


“B-But, she’s so beautiful!”


Ivan sighs shaking his head. “Let’s get to class? We have Professeur Bustier this year and I’ve heard nothing but good things about her.”


“So have I!” Rose squeals.


When they get into the classroom there’s a brunette standing by the professeur’s desk looking around. When Rose happily greets the newcomer she flinches then stares at the blonde wide-eyed. “O-Oh. You startled me. Hello. I’m Lila. I just moved to Paris this morning with my mamma.”

“Welcome to François Düpont!” Rose moves into greet her with a cheek kiss but freezes.


Oh! You’re going to give me the standard greeting.” Rose nods then she and the brunette cheek kiss. “I’ve read about the cheek kiss. They don’t do anything like that in Naples.”


“Naples?”


Lila nods, “It’s a city in Italy. I was born there and spent most of my childhood there too. Is there anything I should know about the school?”


“What do you mean?” Ivan asks.


“You know...” Lila lolls her head from side to side, “the social hierarchy. The most popular kids in school? The students to avoid?”

Ivan and Rose exchange a glance before turning to Lila. “Chloé.”


“What?”


“Chloé Bourgeois is the answer to both of those questions.”


“Are my ears ringing?” A blonde says walking into the classroom with a box in one hand and another blond in the other arm. She tosses the box to Ivan. “Clumsy’s in this class and she brought those from her parents' lame shop—”


“Maybe I’m imagining things but that bag under your arm has the same logo from the same lame shop.”


Chloé glares at Ivan who snaps his mouth shut, “not my fault they’re the only boulangerie pâtissèrie with any competency. Doesn’t mean they’re not lame. Especially for giving birth to Dupain-Cheng.” She pauses looking over the brunette, “who is this hobo chic chick?”


The brunette gapes then schools her features, “I’m Lila. Lila Rossi. I just moved—”


Chloé holds up a hand, “don’t care about your life story.” She looks Lila over again. “Cute shoes though.” She drags the poor boy on her arm up the stairs to the last row then sits down like she’s royalty or something.


“I see what you mean.” Lila mutters.


“Don’t worry!” Rose pats her on the back, “there’s only one Chloé in this school and that’s... well Chloé. Everyone else is super nice!” The blonde squeals and Lila winces. “Oh! Sorry. Still working on my volume control.” She grabs Ivan by the arm then they sit in the second row. Lila watches the blonde obviously try to avoid staring at the purple-haired teen that walks in the class and walks up the stairs.


She reaches the second to last row and Chloé tosses a bag onto the desk. “That seat is occupied, Gotherella, sit somewhere else.”


“No one’s in it.”


“Not yet.” The blonde makes a shooing motion. “Go away, Bats. I have garlic in my salad and I’m not afraid to use it.”


“Chloé—” She takes out a pâtissèrie from the bag and stuffs it in the green-eyed blond’s mouth. The purple-haired girl glares then stomps down the stairs to the first row and plops down on it.


Lila watches as the remainder of the students file into the classroom. The big guy – Ivan – gives the tiny girl with the rainbow hair a flustered greeting that’s interrupted by Chloé snapping her fingers hurrying the girl along. “I’ve told you, Mylène, the commoners aren’t worth your time.”


“R-Right, Chloé. Sorry, Chloé.” She gives Ivan an apologetic smile he returns before turning to the front of the classroom.


“What would your maman think about you associating with that?” She carelessly gestures toward Ivan nearly hitting the green-eyed blond in the face. Lila hums. There’s something familiar about that kid but she can’t put her finger on it. Oh well. “She’d roll over in her grave! Important people, such as ourselves, need to stick together.” The tiny girl nods sadly. “Speaking of important people...” Chloé waves at the pale, orange-haired bespectacled girl who walks in the classroom. She, like Chloé, seems to command the entire class’ attention as she walks up the stairs. She and Chloé cheek kiss before she sits next to the tiny rainbow-haired girl.


“Hi, Mylène.”


“H-Hi, Sabrina.”


“I’m so glad we’re all in the same class this year. Last year was so annoying.” She says with a groan.


“I pulled some strings with Damocles to get us all in the same class.” Sabrina happily claps her hands together then pauses.


“I-Is that...?” She gasps, “you didn’t!”


“Yup. Even convinced Adrikins to come to our school. Kinda surprised his parents—”


Adrien Agreste, to Principal Damocles office.” The loudspeaker requests.


“—Let him.” Half the class gasps excitedly staring at the blond still in Chloé’s clutches. “You couldn’t’ve done anything wrong. The school day didn’t even start yet!”


The blond – Adrien (Adrien Agreste, no wonder he looked so familiar!) – finally manages to wriggle out from under Chloé’s arm and walks down the stairs. He nearly bumps into a tall blue-haired girl as they reach the door at the same time. Chloé huffs indignantly which makes Lila want to know who this girl is.


“S-Sorry!” Adrien squeaks out then flees.

The girl shrugs then walks into the classroom with an equally tall brunet. She and Chloé make eye contact and Lila could swear the classroom’s temperature dropped several degrees just from one stare.


Having taken her seat in the front of the classroom, in front of Rose and Ivan, she turns to them. “Who is she?”


“I don’t know.” Ivan confesses.


Rose squints then gasps, “n-no way! I-I think that’s Marinette!” Ivan looks at her confused, “she lives at the boulangerie pâtissèrie up the street from here—” Rose gestures at the box in Ivan’s hands.


“Ah! I’ve heard about her but I don’t think we’ve ever met.”


“She’s super nice. It’ll be a great opportunity to meet and be friends with her.”


The tall duo head to the second to last row on the left side fully aware of Chloé in the last row on the right glaring at them. The brunet sticks his tongue out at Chloé who gasps then folds her arms over her chest with a huff.


Their professeur, a redhead with her hair in a bun wearing a crisp navy suit, bustles into the classroom. “I-I apologize for my tardiness class, some of you may not know me. I’m Professeur Bustier. There was a new student Principal Damocles wanted to introduce me to before coming to class—”


“Then why did he have Adrien go to his office?”


“Who? Oh! No. It wasn’t him.” Bustier motions at the door and a beautiful bespectacled girl with long, wavy orange hair in a ponytail walks in the classroom. Lila looks around the class seeing everyone have their attention on the newcomer. Oh no. This won’t do. “Class, this is Alya Césaire. She came all the way from North America to—”


Lila stands up, “P-Professeur Bustier, I’m also new to this school and country.”


“Are you? Damocles didn’t tell me about two new students. Please come down here so we can be introduced to you as well.” Nodding, Lila makes her way down to the professeur’s desk. “Now, as I was saying this is Alya and she’s come from North America. Let’s all make her feel welcome.” She gestures to Lila.

“Oh. I’m Lila. Lila Rossi. I came from Naples, Italy. I’m still learning French so I should apologize in advance for my terrible pronunciation.” Bustier pats Lila on the shoulder then gestures for both girls to take a seat.


“As today is the first day we’re gonna get class representative voting out of the way—”


Sabrina raises her hand, “Professeur, how can we vote on a class rep when we don’t know everyone yet?”


“That’s why we’re voting. Anyone interested raise their hand then come down to the front and explain why they want to become class rep.” Chloé raises her hand. “O-Oh, we have a candidate already?”

Chloé stands, “everyone knows who I am. As for why I want to be class rep. The answer’s obvious. I was class rep the past two years—”


“And you never did anything.” Chloé glares at the blue-haired girl.


“Professeur, I don’t recall anyone raising their hand.”


“She’s right. If there’s an issue—” Bustier sighs as the girl raises her hand. “Go ahead."

“For the past two years, she was the worst class representative in history! We barely got to go on our class trips because of her!”


“If you think you’re gonna do such a better job then why don’t you apply!?”


“I don’t recall seeing anyone raise their hand, Professeur.”


Bustier sighs, “I can tell there’s a lot of... tension between you two. I think you should sit next to each other to diffuse that.”


“That’s utterly ridiculous! I’m not sitting next to her.”


“Are you trying to make me fail your class?”


Bustier picks up a piece of paper and skims it. “Everyone up. I’m assigning seats.” The class grumble as they reluctantly comply with the professeur’s order.


Ivan hands the macaron box to Marinette and she offers the box to everyone. Chloé’s jaw drops as by the time Marinette gets to her the box is empty. “You did this on purpose!”


Marinette shrugs going back to stand next to Kim who subtly fist-bumps her.


✍🏾


When Adrien returns to the classroom, everyone is seated in different seats. Nathalie and his bodyguard slash chauffeur came by; his parents were disappointed by him slipping away without their knowledge but decided on giving the school a trial run. He hugged Nathalie in thanks since his parents weren’t there. The only thing he wanted more than going to public school was to have a sibling but he knows he’ll never get that; at least he’ll get to go to an actual school!


“M. Agreste.” Professeur Bustier beckons him, “you’ll be seated in the front right here next to Lila.” The brunette waves at him and Adrien doesn’t know why but he feels a shudder run through his body. Nevertheless, he takes his assigned seat and Lila almost immediately presses herself against his arm, clutching it. And he just regained feeling in it after Chloé’s death grip.


“Hi. I’m Lila. I’ve done a little modeling myself, and I think it’s so weird how we keep missing each other. Since we’re both new to public schooling we should be friends. Look out for each other, you know? Model to model.”


“Y-Yeah. Sounds good.” His only friends are Chloé and Sabrina, so he could use all the new friends he’s capable of making. “B-But I’m gonna need my arm to write.”


“Oh.” Lila giggles, “silly me. Of course, you do.” She loosens her grip on him enough so that he can put his arm on the desk.


The professeur put her next to Dupain-Cheng in the second row on the left so she has a pretty good view of that brunette digging her claws into Adrikins’ arm. The blonde glowers. Who does that girl think she is? Chloé hears a loud yawn in her ear and rolls her eyes as the blue-haired teen slumps in her seat, arms moving wildly as she stretches. “Can’t you control your lanky, uncoordinated limbs?”


“I don’t know. Can you shut up long enough for me to try?” Chloé’s eyes narrow then an explosion reverberates through the building throwing her out of her seat and onto the floor.


“Earthquake!” Bustier yells, “everyone under your desks now!”


The students all dive under their respective shared desks as another explosion rocks through the classroom.


There’s some kind of howl then the roof gets torn off the building. The class looks up in awe at the giant painting with limbs that reaches into the building then comes out with a professeur with purple hair. Alya rummages through her bag to get her phone to record what she’s seeing. “My art isn’t just scribbles, Professeur Mendeleiev and with these powers you’re about to experience that firsthand!” The painting talks then walks off with the shouting professeur in their hand.


The loudspeaker crackles to life, “attention students, this is Principal Damocles. Due to... whatever we just witnessed school is canceled. Return to your homes immediately!”


“No school!” Kim yells then the rest of the class cheers gathering their belongings.


“Be careful on your way home!” Professeur Bustier yells as the students rush out of the classroom.


Alya gathered her belonging on autopilot as she stared at her phone. That looked like an honest to goodness comic book villain come to life! They even had a cliché line! And where there are villains there are sure to be heroes. She giggles to herself and nearly bumps into the blond.


“Sorry. I just seem to keep almost bumping into people today.”


“No worries. I was excited by the prospect of seeing a superhero so I wasn’t looking where I was going.”


“Superhero?”


“Yeah, man. Didn’t you see that giant painting-thing? Something or someone’s gonna show up and stop it and when they do...” She pats her phone, “I’m gonna record it.”


“Ooh. Can I come? I love superheroes.”


“Sure. If we’re both recording we’re bound to get some good angles. I’m Alya.”

“Adrien.” She greets him with a cheek kiss and he blushes. His blush deepens when she grabs his hand.


“Let’s go grab some superhero footage!”


✍🏾


Sabine and Tom run over to Marinette as soon as she enters the shop. “We saw the news. Are you hurt?” Sabine asks.


“No. I’m fine. Just a little hungry. I dropped my fritter when Chloé’s towncar nearly hit me.”


“We heard.” Sabine pinches the bridge of her nose, “I swear that girl and her family raise my blood pressure.”


“A nice elder fellow told us you helped him cross the street and moved him out of the way of the towncar. He says you gave him one of the macarons too.” Marinette nods, “he said his name was Fù Wáng and he owns a massage parlor and incense shop a few blocks from here.”


“Cool.” Tom holds out a tray in front of her, “ooh. Thanks, papai.” She grabs a cheese danish from the tray. “I’m gonna work on some designs that popped in my head when I was in school.”


“Remember to drink water and take breaks!” Sabine calls out as Marinette runs up the stairs. “We’ll call you down for lunch!”


“Okay!” Marinette yells back.


Marinette stuffs half the danish in her mouth as she opens the trap door. She could swear she saw something moving out the corner of her eye but when she looks there’s nothing there. Shrugging, she plops down on her desk blinking at the unfamiliar box there.


Marinette looks at the box and stares at the character in hanzi. “Destruction.” She reads. “Right. As if I need a box to tell me how destructive I am.” She tosses the box over her shoulder and takes out her sketchpad from the desk’s drawer.


As she begins sketching, she definitely sees a flash out the corner of her eye. Turning in her swivel chair she finds herself face to face with a pair of green eyes. “Yo.” It speaks. Marinette wordlessly slamming her sketchbook onto the thing’s head. “Oww...” It mutters. When she lifts her sketchbook, she sees a floating black cat-ish plushie thing rubbing its head with its eyes closed. “I was expecting a scream or something thrown but not a direct hit...” It murmurs rubbing its head.


“What? What are you?”

A green eye opens and the thing continues rubbing its head, “besides in pain? I’m Plagg, a kwami... your kwami.”


“What’s a... whatever you just said?”


“Kwami. An ancient being of magical power.” The kwami’s voice takes on an annoying game-show host accent. “We give our Intendeds a wedge of our powers. Mine’s destruction.”


“Listen, uh, Plug the uh k-whammy, I don’t need any additional destruction going on in my life.”


“It’s Plagg and I’m a kwami. And whoo boy, don’t I know it! You can practically power yourself with all that bad luck swirling around you.”


“I knew I was cursed!”


“It’s not a curse. No curse in the nine dimensions is powerful enough to bring on the string of bad luck in your life. But I suppose that’s natural when you’re the avatar of bad luck. You’re gonna hit some snags in your life but being the avatar of bad luck means persevering through them all, which you have gracefully.” Plagg clears its throat, “right... the Guardian said I had to give the standard spiel. You were chosen because of your, well, bad luck – like I said. We’re gonna work together to take down that monster tearing through the city.”


“Excuse me?”


“Haven’t you always wanted to be a superhero?”


No! I want to be a fashion designer!”


Plagg looks around the room, “I see that. Damn. I think the Guardian goofed.” They float over to Marinette and sniff her. “Nope. That’s definitely bad luck but all this is...” They shake their head. “Never mind. We’re together and you smell like the good bread so we’re gonna team up.”


“‘Good bread?’”


“The best bread.” Plagg wipes their mouth with their hand. “To power up just say: Plagg, claws out. To power down, you say: Plagg, claws in.” Plagg’s eyes widen as they stare at the danish. “Are you gonna eat that?”


“Yeah, but you can have half.”


Beaming, Plagg takes the piece Marinette breaks off and swallows it whole. “You keep making snacks like that and we’re gonna get along great.”


“What am I supposed to tell my parents? A tiny plushie said I need to go stop monsters because I’m bad luck personified?”


“Why do you need to tell anyone anything? It’s none of their business. You look a bit... younger than my last Intended but he didn’t seem to have a problem keeping me a secret.”


The shop shakes. “Dammit! I don’t wanna play superhero, I just wanna sketch! Plagg, claws out!” They stare at each other for a few seconds. “Is something supposed to happen...?”


“Is something...” Plagg facepalms, “duh. I forgot to give you the Miraculous.” Chuckling to themselves, they fly over to the box Marinette threw. “By the way, try not to be so careless with my Miraculous in the future?” There’s a ring that looks like green beads on a cat’s paw inside the box. Marinette picks it up to examine it and it flashes then changes before her very eyes into a plain thin red gold ring. “You’re not trying to pawn it. You’re gonna wear it to transform.”


“Just looking at what I’m working with, and wondering how it changed."


"Magic."


"Right. What answer was I expecting?” Marinette slides the ring on her right middle finger then takes a deep breath. “I know I’m gonna regret this. Plagg, claws out!” When Plagg flies into the ring, Marinette knows she’s made a mistake.

There’s a blinding light coming from her hand. Her ring changes form again, returning to the green cat's paw. Next, black fingerless gloves materialize over her arms and her nails elongate and magically paint themselves green. Her mostly black catsuit forms over her body, it like the gloves, has a herringbone pattern that puts some green into it. An obnoxious green crystal bell ties itself around the green ribbon around her neck. She gets a pair of green boots the same color as her nails and its herringbone pattern is the inverse of the rest of her suit. A green baton appears over her head and she catches it. There’s a black cat paw in the center and she presses it and the baton splits in two.


Her hair... oh her hair grows and turns green, her twintails that barely touched her shoulder are now flowing over her chest. “Oh. So that’s what I’d look like with longer hair.” Black ribbons appear and tie themselves around her twintails.


She feels her lips tingling and grabs a compact to see they’re green. Then she gasps as she looks over her whole body with the compact. Her eyes are yellowish-green and have cat-like slits. “Sweet Colonel Mustard, what am I wearing!?”


Oh. She did not notice the bushy black tail attached to her ass nor did she notice the moving black and green cat ears on her head. Marinette tweaks her ears and yes they are real.


A black domino mask is over the top half of her face, with the same herringbone pattern as the rest of her outfit.


Marinette climbs out her room onto the roof and takes a deep breath. Her ears twitch – as if she needed more validation for them being real. Frowning, she feels the side of her face and doesn’t feel ears. Even under where her mask is.

She puts a hand above her eyes and sees the giant painting-thing still holding the professeur. She twirls a baton in her hand and it hits her in the head. “Still clumsy.” Marinette moves to climb down the fire escape and falls into a hole.


Instead of falling on her back she gently lands on her feet. She looks around at the ...nothingness surrounding her. “I welcome you, avatar of destruction.” Marinette squints at the horse guy bowing at her. “I am the guardian of the miraculouses and the avatar of space. Thank you for accepting your duty.”


“Wasn’t really given much of a choice.”


“We never are.” He lifts his head. “Has Plagg informed you of what is required of you?”


“I have to stop the monster?”


“Yes, although it is rarely that simple. The monster is corrupted by the power of two miraculouses. The peafowl miraculous invokes the power of emotion while the butterfly is transmission.”

“Oh fuck—” Marinette slaps a hand over her mouth, “sorry, continue.” She mumbles.


“While the Miraculouses have worked separately in the past, they are exceptionally dangerous combined. You’ll need to destroy the akuma possessing the monster and the amok amplifying their anger.”


“And I have to do all this by myself?!”


The horse nods. “It’s dangerous putting another miraculous in circulation when we don’t know—”


“What about the danger to me? My fourteenth birthday is in a week! I don’t wanna die before then because of some magical BS I had no say in getting involved in! I’ve got family coming from all over the world just to see me!” She stomps her foot in frustration and the floor cracks. “Uh...?”


“You are the power of destruction.”


Marinette nods slowly, “good to know.”


“By the way, this is important. As the avatar of destruction, you can absorb the corruption of any miraculous. However, it is imperative you do not make direct contact with the corruption. It could spread to you and have... ill effects.”


“And we’re back to dying.” Marinette sighs, “just let me off at the next monster turn.” Nodding, a portal opens up underneath her and she falls through.


✍🏾


Marinette lands on the top of François Düpont and beside her is the professeur she saw earlier but they’re unconscious. She gently nudges the professeur – being the avatar of destruction and whatnot – but they don’t move.


Hey!” The painting is hovering over her. “What the hell are you!?” A lavender butterfly-shaped mask appears over the top of the painting. “The black cat!” An ethereal voice booms. “Surrender your miraculous or we’ll make the city an abstract art exhibit.”


“After the day I’ve had, I’m not surrendering shit!” Marinette unclips the twin batons from her sides then brings them together.


One of the painting’s limbs tries to grab her but she touches it and it disintegrates into ash. Marinette’s eyes widen, at the same time the painting takes a step back. She uses the baton to pole vault herself into the painting and it explodes upon contact.


Marinette lands on her feet in front of the building and catches the screaming student in her hands. “W-Wha—? What happened?” She wordlessly points up and the student screams at the purplish-blue smog forming into a large pair of faces. The student jumps out of Marinette’s arms then runs off.


“The Guardian’s shown their hand.” The first face is shaped like a butterfly while the second is shaped like a peafowl. At least she sorta gets to meet the assholes who are gonna ruin her life. “Citizens of Paris, is this what you want protecting you?” The butterfly face asks. “A child, playing dress-up?”


“Better than an insect and a winged rat terrorizing people!”


The butterfly face glows, “how dare you!?” It screeches. “This insufferable wretch has doomed the entire city! You will never be safe from—”


Marinette points the baton at them and hits the paw-shaped button absorbing the smog. When she releases the button, the batons separate. They glow black briefly then nothing happens so she puts them back on her hips.


Alya watches the hero yawn then rotate their shoulders. Adrien’s yelling after her as she runs up to the black cat. “That was awesome!”


The cat jumps a few centimeters in the air then lands on their feet. “What the hell? You scared the crap outta me!”


“Sorry. It’s just... That was totally badass. You just—” The orange-haired teen makes a series of blaster sound effects and articulates wildly around her. She thrusts her phone in front of the cat’s face. “What’s your name?”


“My... huh. Didn’t think of one.”


“How did you get your powers? Do you have a familiar? Were you scratched by a radioactive cat? Are your ears real?” The bespectacled teen begins babbling incoherently then starts hyperventilating.


Marinette grabs the orange-haired teen’s shoulders and she stops hyperventilating. “I can’t answer any of your questions yet. I still need some of my own.”


The ground shakes then Alya gasps taking a step back holding up her camera to record the roof of the building bathed in a black and green light re-fitting itself in place. “Are you doing this?” She asks and the cat shrugs. Alya moves her phone around to try and catch everything. When she looks back at the cat they’re eyeing the ring on their hand. One of the five beads isn’t glowing green like the others.


“I think I need to go.”


“Wait!” The cat takes a step then disappears into a hole that literally just appeared as they moved. “Awesome...” Alya breathes.


✍🏾


Marinette looks up at a pair of blue eyes looking down at her. “Déjà vu?”


“Not quite, Kitty Chaos.”


Please don’t tell me people are calling me that?”


A white-gloved arm helps her up and Marinette is staring at a person in a rabbit costume. Not all that weird considering she’s still dressed like a cat. “Nope. Just my little nickname for mini-you.” The rabbit pauses, “of course, you technically were never very ‘mini.’ Anyway, I’m Bunnyx. Avatar of time and holder of the rabbit miraculous. You’re in one of my time portals.”


“Why?”


“Because this universe is all outta whack. The kind of calamity the Guardian is unleashing just by having you active without your counterpart is far more dangerous than anything the insect and winged rat can do combined.”


What!? Seriously!?”


“Don’t worry. Don’t worry. You let Bunnyx handle it. I’m gonna send you back in time to before the Guardian selected you and gonna bring your partner to Paris so we can do this right.”


“Will I remember this conversation?”


“Yes and no. Time likes making everyone its bitch.” Bunnyx puts a hand on Marinette’s shoulder, “two pieces of advice: the perfect name will just come to you. It has in every other universe. And keep on smiling, Kitty Chaos. No one says we can’t have a little fun with this gig.” She hugs Marinette.


“'Every other universe?'”

Bunnyx lets Marinette go. “No two universes are the same though this is one of the few you were selected as the avatar of destruction rather than creation; which is the power your partner will have. Weird thing about you and your partner is you’d each fit both. Guess that’s what makes you two a perfect match.” Bunnyx opens their umbrella and a portal appears in front of Marinette.


“Will you... still exist if we change things?”


“Oh yeah. I’m not going anywhere. I got a whole multiverse to make sure of that. Keep your eyes peeled, Kitty. Shit’s gonna get rough.”


“Yeah. It usually does.” With a sigh, Marinette steps in the portal.