Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Fandoms:
Relationships:
Characters:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Series:
Part 1 of Welcome To The New Normal, Everything Is Fine
Stats:
Published:
2020-09-11
Updated:
2021-04-04
Words:
53,569
Chapters:
4/?
Comments:
7
Kudos:
14
Bookmarks:
3
Hits:
981

The Totally Ordinary (And Not At All Chaotic Or Magical) Misadventures of Hex and Cerise Beetle [and Team Chaoss]

Summary:

Billy’s just an ordinary boy living an ordinary life. Getting a magical ring and becoming a superhero won’t change that. Neither will him discovering he’s got magic powers outside the suit. Then, there’s the long lost twin he finds. But nothing out of the ordinary there. Developing a crush on the boy with a crush on his superhero persona? Totally ordinary boy stuff.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I do not own Miraculous Ladybug nor do I own the Young Avengers/Runaways/Champions/X-Men or anything that has to do with Marvel comics

A/N: I was gonna do some unnecessary complicated mess but then I just figured I’ll just put Nooroo as the kwami of emotion while Duusu is the kwami of transmission here
-Originally, I had no plans to use Roaar in the story (disliking their Miraculous) but I have decided to go against my original plan and add Roaar to the story. Also, I don't know if it is Roaar or Roarr [Similar issue with the spelling of Baark or Barrk]
-everyone’s powers/abilities are still prevalent, meaning other magics outside the Miraculouses exist – which is something I believe I state?
-Something I read (maybe the Miraculous Ladybug wikipage?) said Mullo is also called Toppo so that’s the name I’m going with here.
-Why are they in France? Why is everyone always in New York?
-Paris – once again – has the made up 21st arrondissement that has François Düpont and Sabine & Tom Boulangerie Pâtissèrie.
-Yin is considered the feminine and dark half of the dualism and Yang is the male and light half so... Tikki uses he/they pronouns and Plagg uses she/they

Chapter 1: an ordinary nerd

Summary:

Billy never was much of a ring guy but he’s gonna have to be to make this clunky magic ring less noticeable.

Chapter Text

“—There has been a lot of controversy surrounding the re-election of Le Grand Paris owner André Bourgeois.” The newsanchor on the television reports. The aforementioned man stands in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the lavender brooch on the center of his bowtie. “Together with last night’s appearance of one ‘Seigneur’ Monarque, civilians are rightfully worried. Let’s turn it over to Nadja Chamack with our civilian perspective.”


The camera switches to a burgundy-haired woman. “Thanks Nickie, I’m here with Tom Dupain of – that’s right – Sabine & Tom Boulangerie Pâtissèrie. M. Dupain, how frightful was that...” The woman pauses tapping her earpiece, “what?” She hisses, “a... what? Really?” She clears her throat, “M. Dupain, how frightful was that kaleidoscope of butterflies blanketing the sky speaking of obtaining unheard of magical trinkets?”


“Uh... honestly? I was asleep during the entire thing but from what my wife told me it was pretty frightening!”


“And there you have it, Paris. ‘Don’t be bemused, it’s simply news.’ This is Nadja Chamack reporting live from outside Sabine & Tom Boulangerie Pâtissèrie. Over to you, Jack.” The camera cuts to another newsanchor.


“Monsieur Bourgeois—” Jean-Claude tentatively knocks on the door. “Your wife—”


The double doors fully open, “doesn’t need an escort.” Audrey finishes, “now leave.” The butler blinks at her, “are you hard of hearing? Would you rather be dismissed or fired? Your choice.” His eyes quickly dart in André’s direction before he flees. Shaking her head, the blonde walks into the office. André turns away from the mirror to face his wife. “What’s with the tacky bowtie?”


“I wanted to try something new.”


“It’s horrendous, André. Seriously. And lavender? I applaud the pop of color, good to know someone is listening to me, but bowties will never be a thing.”

“I know you haven’t come all the way from Venice to critique my fashion. Not when video calls exist.”


“I came to drop off our daughter. Right in time for school. Aren’t I a great mother?”


“The best. I’m sure Chloé appreciated spending the summer with you.”


“Of course she did. I’m an absolute joy to be around. Hopefully, I taught her to step up her fashion sense. Can you believe how many striped outfits that girl has in her closet?”


“I, uh, can imagine...?” André clears his throat, “how long are you in the city for?”


“That eager to get rid of me, huh?” She smiles at André who smiles back, “sorry to disappoint but I booked a one-way flight.”


“That’s wonderful news! I was hoping you’d stick around.”


“Yes, well, I suppose any wife would want to be there for her husband with all this ‘controversy’ nonsense.”


André makes a face, “you’ve heard.”


“Charlie booked the flights before the news hit. What sort of shit have you gotten yourself into?”


“Nothing. It’s simply wild speculations.”


Audrey raises an eyebrow as she hums. “Is that so? Even ‘wild’ speculations come from somewhere, André. The best lies have sprinkles of truth in them after all.”


“They think I sabotaged the election.”


“Did you?”


“Yes but not in the way they believe! I mean really, Fred Haprèle as mayor of Paris?” André snorts, “what an utterly ridiculous joke! How could I not intervene?”


“What did you even d—”


“Don’t tell me not to disturb my own parents!” An all too familiar shrill shouting voice has them both looking toward the doorway as their daughter stomps inside pulling a large carry-on in each hand.


“My two favorite women in the same room! How was Italy, Princess?”


Jean-Claude tries to make a grab for one of the carry-ons but Chloé moves it out of his reach. “Don’t touch!” She snaps, “Venice was fine, papa.” She glares at the butler as she struggles to pull her carry-ons into the suite.


“Do you need—” Audrey puts a hand to André’s chest, shaking her head. André waits until Chloé makes it to her room and closes the door before he turns to Audrey. “What happened?” He whispers.


“First crush and first heartbreak.” Audrey whispers back. “Poor thing. But she’s got Durand blood! We’re strong, persevering women. She’ll power through.”


“What sort of foolish boy would reject my Princess? Why, she’s the epitome of perfection!”

“Foolish I agree with, but who said anything about a boy?”


André’s eyes widen comically as he stares at Audrey, “w-wha—? B-But—” He sputters, “b-but you said she had a heartbreak—!”


“I did, because she did. And you automatically, not to mention heteronormatively assumed it was a boy she got a crush on?”

“Honestly? Yes! Y-You said crush and our daughter so...”

Audrey rolls her eyes. “I advise you to change your tune and your tone, André Bourgeois. Our daughter likes girls. Deal with it. It’s fucking 2020 for goodness sake! How utterly ridiculous are you?” With a huff, she walks to Chloé’s room. She glares at him before she closes the doors.


🐞 & 🐈


Eleven kwamis are floating above the opened Miraculous Box.

“He calls himself ‘seigneur.’” The cat kwami, Plagg, drawls, “isn’t that reason enough to want to stop him?”

“Plus...” The ladybug kwami, Tikki, begins, “he spoke of taking me and Plagg’s Miraculouses specifically.” The other kwamis murmur their agreement. “You can’t let your past mistakes prevent you from acting, Fù. Mistakes are human nature. Like Plagg said, anyone floating around calling themselves ‘seigneur’ needs to be shut down before they can act. Having an ideology that warped is harmful to others.”


Fù Wáng opens his eyes as he stares at the kwamis before him, “you’re right. I must act. I’m the only one who can.” He looks down at the nearly half-empty box. So many lost and stolen Miraculouses under his care. And yet—No. This isn’t the time. “‘Seigneur’ Monarque has showed his hand. If he’s seeking the Miraculouses of creation and destruction he’s aware of the requirements for the wish.” Fù sighs rubbing his forehead, “why must the Miraculouses be stolen or misplaced then used for evil so damn constantly? It wasn’t even forty years ago we had this errand timeline created because the snake and rabbit Miraculouses were used to grant a wish!”


“I’d be... eternally grateful if that didn’t happen again.” The rabbit kwami, Fluff, deadpans.


“Kaalki, I need you.” The horse kwami perks up, floating over to Fù. “We need to find the perfect wielders for the creation and destruction Miraculouses first, then everything else will fall into place—”


“Like checker pieces!” The monkey kwami, Xuppu, exclaims rubbing their paws together.


“It’s...” Fù pauses, “yes, it’s exactly like that, Xuppu.” The monkey kwami preens.


“You know... even though it wasn’t that long ago, I can’t seem to remember what the wish was.” The snake kwami, Sass, hisses.

“They wished for a world with magic.”


“Like—” Plagg slaps a paw over Orikko, the rooster kwami’s, mouth.


“What happened to the one who made the wish?” The peafowl kwami, Duusu, asks floating upside down.


“My knowledge of the situation is limited but I do know the wish did not kill them so I imagine they must be in this world they created, using the magic they wished for. They would be one of the few individuals in this world who still has memories of the old one. Those protected by the power of a Miraculous – who were alive and present then – also retained their memories.”


“And there’s no way to reverse the effects of the wish?” Sass asks.


Fù shakes his head, “this is our new reality. We must make the most of it. I’ll try and get in contact with all the sages and guardians I know to see if anyone was present for the wish.”


“I have two questions.” Fluff raises a paw, “why aren’t we with the wish granter, given we were used to make the wish happen, and why don’t we remember what happened?”


“If I had to take a wager on the second question, I’d say the sages magically shielded you from all knowledge regarding the wish and magics pertaining to it. That shielding must’ve returned you to your original Miraculous Box after the wish was granted. I believe now of all times, it was a foolish decision on the sages’ part to withhold knowledge of the wish from both Guardians and kwamis.”


“In case you hadn’t noticed...” Plagg gestures around the empty comic book shop, “the sages have proven history of fucking shit up. I mean...” Plagg gestures to herself, “look at the bodies they gave us!” Several of the kwamis nod in agreement.


“I just so happen to like my body.” Kaalki states, “it’s cute and travel size.”


“You can’t open a jar.” Toppo, the mouse kwami, retorts.


Kaalki scowls, “yes... that part is bothersome.”


“The wish has a downside too, doesn’t it?” The goat kwami, Ziggy, asks. “That’s the one thing the sages were adamant about us knowing.” The other kwamis nod in agreement. “You know... to deter people from trying to grant it? I’m guessing if they told us exactly what happened we could deter more people but...” They trail off with a shrug. “Anyway. My question is: what did they lose in exchange for the creation of a new reality? I know you weren’t there but do you have any semblance of an idea?”


Fù shakes his head. “Hopefully, we’ll get some answers from some colleagues. For now, let’s focus on the distribution of Tikki and Plagg—”


“With all due respect, Guardian—” The turtle kwami, Wayzz, inclines his head, “I don’t believe it’s a smart play just handing out the Miraculouses ‘Seigneur’ Monarque wants. We don’t know what he’s fully capable of or what else he has in his arsenal. We need to be smart about this. He may have magical counters to achieve his goal. There is no such thing as being too prepared.”


Fù hums, “while I don’t necessarily agree with you, you bring up a good point. Losing the two Miraculouses we need to protect would be devastating. However, I would hate to shoulder the burden of Tikki and Plagg's tentative balance on just one of them. If they are both active, 'Seigneur' Monarque will be looking for more than one person.” Fù and the kwamis stare at the Miraculous Box. “Kaalki, stay close.” The horse kwami nods. Fù picks up a pair of glasses in the brown space then puts them on. His hand hovers over the gold ring in the center black space before he picks that up, then he picks up the gold pair of earrings in the red space next to the black.


Taking a deep breath, he grabs the black necklace with the purple circular pendant from the light grey space, the olive bracelet from the green space, and lastly the seafoam bangle from the teal space. Nodding to the kwamis, he sets the five Miraculouses in his satchel. When he closes the Miraculous box, the kwamis fade out of existence. “Now... where would be the best place to look for champions for the force of good?”


🐞 & 🐈


Winner!” The tv shouts.


“Aww, dude! You had him on the ropes!” Groaning, the black-haired boy on the couch drops his controller onto his lap. “Walls, what happened?”


“I swear he’s some kind of wizard, man!”


The bespectacled brunet chuckles adjusting his glasses, “personally, I’d prefer to be a witch.” He says with a shrug.


“You gotta avenge me, bro. Twin powers activate.” Nodding, the black-haired boy sitting on the floor gets up and fist bumps his twin brother.


“I’m coming at ya, Billy.”


“Billy, can you come here a second?” Their mother calls.


“You two can play until I get back.” He hands his little brother the controller before getting off the couch and heading into the kitchen.


Their mother, Rebecca, is seated at the table holding a sheet of paper in her left hand. “We have to go back to school shopping.”


Billy’s shoulders slump, “seriously?”


“Yes, seriously. You’re entering a new school in two weeks and—” She shakes the paper in her hands, “according to this list they just sent in the mail, you’re wholly unprepared for the school year.”


“It doesn’t matter how ‘prepared’ I get ma, school is school.”


Rebecca sighs, “I know. Children have only gotten crueler since I was a child. You know I’m here whenever you need to talk. Both as your mother and as a psychiatrist.”


Billy manages to give her a weak smile.


Rebecca gets up from the table and hugs her son, kissing him on the forehead. “We might as well get this over with, if you’re not doing anything?”


“I’m free if you are.”


“Let me put some socks on and grab my jacket then.”


After telling them he and their mother was going back to school shopping, the twins decided they wanted to tag-along too.

Billy gets an instantaneous headache the second they enter the hypermarket. People are everywhere. The “back-to-school” cardboard display case is horizontally cracked in half. Two elderly men are each pulling a sleeve on a pink sweater near the clothing section. A group of people are gathering up supplies by the basketful. Carts are getting crashed into one another. Individuals are running around in a frenzy.

The only way to describe the scenario is absolute chaos.


Rebecca hugs her children close to her, looking on in horror. “This is definitely not normal.” She gasps as a screaming, naked man runs past them. “Definitely not normal.” She repeats. “Come on, we’re leaving.” Rebecca maneuvers herself and her sons around the chaos trying to head to the exit doors as the doors they’re standing in front of won’t open letting them out – being “enter only.”


Incoming!” Wally yells. Rebecca lets go of the three of them so they can run out of the way of the rampant water balloons raining down. When they reach the exit doors, they discover they’re locked.


“We gotta try the other exits.” Walt says. “But they may be locked too.”


“This is exactly the type of chaos that can be prevented if the Miraculouses of the ladybug and black cat were hand-delivered to me.” Says an annoying smug voice over the loudspeaker.


“This must be due to that Monarque asshole.” Rebecca grumbles. “C’mon boys, stay close, we’ll bust our way out of this place if we have to.”


Children are climbing up shelves. Adults are ripping pages out of notebooks. More full water balloons are raining down from above.

Wally pretty much latches onto his twin brother as they walk several steps ahead of their mother and older brother. This is like the premise of Zombiefried, people getting infected by the zombie virus in a hypermarket then acting like they’re in some sort of frothing frenzied state. All that’s missing is the frothing in question—no scratch that; Walt just pointed at someone run by frothing at the mouth.


As they’re walking, Rebecca suddenly drops to her knees sobbing loudly. “Mum?” The twins crowd the brunette and gently shake her but she continues to sob.


“What the hell happened?” Wally asks.

“I don’t—” Walt gasps, “butterfly!” He dives at Billy tackling him out of the way of the butterfly that disintegrates into jacket. His head snaps up and a purple butterfly party mask outline forms over his eyes and nose. “Spread the chaos!” He yells then runs off. A swarm of butterflies descend upon them and one flies into Wally’s shoe then the mask outline appears and he runs off.


Billy flinches as the butterfly flies into his glasses frame. “Spread—” A voice begins. He takes his glasses off, panting. He can still hear the voice coming from his glasses so he puts them into his still sobbing mother’s shirt pocket then scrambles to his feet and runs off.


🐞 & 🐈


Purple eyes snap open, feeling a connection dissipate. “Someone... resisted my akuma. Follow them and make sure they don’t resist again.”


🐞 & 🐈


Being chased by purple butterflies through a hypermarket was not at all how Billy anticipated his afternoon going. If he turned the corner or ran through an aisle, the damn butterflies just phased through whatever was in their way and continued to give chase.


All those years of doing the bare minimum in physical education was catching up with him. Barring some miracle, he was gonna get caught and magically afflicted by a goddamn butterfly! Butterflies aren’t even malicious creatures! What the ever-loving fuck is wrong with this Monarque asshole?!


He runs into the bathroom of all places then runs both hands down his face until he spots the window above one of the stalls. Climbing? Great more physical activity. Taking a deep breath, he walks into the open stall then climbs the toilet to reach the window. He tries to open it but of course it won’t budge. Looking around, he spots the roll of toilet paper on top of the dispenser and grabs it then hits the roll against the window until it opens. He drops the roll then rolls out of the window.


His phone ringing startles him. Billy takes his phone out of his pocket and stares at his father’s face on the screen. Gulping, he picks up. “Hello?”


“Billy? Thank God I got you! The hypermarket you four went to is all over the news. Monarque sent out a swarm, kaleidoscope—a whole whatever you call it of butterflies.”


“I know. They got ma and the twins. I-I only avoided it because I took off my glasses after a butterfly flew in them.”


Billy can hear his father take a deep breath on the other end. “You’re safe, right? You wouldn’t be answering the phone if you weren’t.” He takes another deep breath. “Can you safely come home? Or do you need me to come to you?”

“No, don’t come. You might get possessed or whatever the butterflies do. I-I can try to make it home.”


“Just be careful.”


“I will.”


“I love you.”


“I love you too.” Billy hangs up the phone then thumps his head against the wall. As he goes to put his phone back in his pocket, his hand bumps against a small hexagonal box. Despite the annoyingly persistent voice telling him to open the box, his common sense wins out the argument and scoots away from the box but then the damn wind blows and tips the box over opening it. “Son of a bitch.”


Before he can make a grab for the box, closing it, a bright black light shoots out of it, then the light takes shape into a small green-eyed black cat thingy. The thing yawns loudly showing off one of its fangs. Once done yawning, the thing shakes its head then stares at Billy. “Oh. So you’re my Intended, huh?” The talking floating cat thingy scoops up the box in their paws and holds it out toward Billy. “Take this.”


“My... parents taught me to never take strange objects from... magical cat creatures.”


“Ordinarily, that would be sound advice but unless you wanna get akumatized you’d ignore your parents warning just this once.” Billy skeptically picks up the silver ring from the box. “What? Never seen a magic ring before?”


“Never in person. Never was much of a ‘ring’ guy.”


“Rings are great! When you punch someone, they get the indent.”


“Not much of a ‘punching’ guy...”


“Are kicks more your thing?” The cat nods to itself, “that’s understandable, they do more damage.” Billy blinks at the cat. “Anyways, name’s Plagg. I’m a kwami.” A beat, “I’m your kwami.” Plagg bows, “in case you’re wondering what that means—”


“I am.” Billy interrupts.


“—It means I’m the god of destruction given corporal form. You, my lucky little Kit, get to be the instrument of my destruction.”


“Why?”


Plagg shrugs, “admittedly, I don’t have all the answers – to that. What I do know is... you were selected! Congratulations! Plus, and this is kinda big, you were the only person with any common sense to discard the afflicted object an akuma flew into.”


“Akuma? That’s what they’re called?” Plagg nods. “What do they do?”


“They’re creatures of emotion. Usually negative but previous users of the butterfly Miraculous have used akumas in a positive light. Anyway, an akuma can detect human emotions. The most prevalent emotion becomes weaponized and you are transformed into the personification of that emotion.”

“That sounds horrible!”


“Yes but with a mass akumatization like this, it’s far worse than that. Monarque latched onto anger – possibly their own – and is just making everyone pissed little goblins intent on wrecking havoc.”


Billy groans, “oh... dammit—” He stares at the ring, “I have to stop him, don’t I?”


“Yup! But you’re not alone. You have a team. Four more of you are out there—” Plagg pauses, “well probably all in or around the hypermarket: A ladybug, a mouse, a snake, and a turtle.”


“None of those animals seem particularly terrifying.”


“Yeah well neither is a butterfly, and yet...”


“True.” Billy sighs heavily, “given I’d rather not be ‘akumatized’ if I could help it and being a superhero is incredibly badass, I’ll help out. How do I... transform? And follow-up question: how do I uh untransform?”

Plagg gives him a toothy grin putting the ring on Billy’s left middle finger, “claws out to transform, claws in to detransform.”


“Right.” Billy shakily gets to his feet, “claws out!” The ring throbs before Plagg flies into it. “Yeah... I’m gonna regret this.”


There’s a bright light that emits from the ring then a dizzying feeling before Billy drops in a crouch. His eyes widen as he looks at the black armbands on his hand, and the green nail polish on his fingers – with their elongated nails. He looks for his phone, belated realizing it must be in his clothes. How does this magic outfit thing work out anyway? He’s always wondered that reading comic books.


Billy gets up, looking and feeling himself all over. He’s wearing a mostly black leather catsuit. He has an obnoxious silver bell around the spiked collar. He felt cat ears coming out of his head. His domino mask stretches over his human ears – that he could no longer feel – and covers the whole top half of his face. He has a tail. Which is worth mentioning. A long bushy one.


His boots are silver.


There are silver studded earrings in his cat ears.


The ring is now green and shaped like a cat’s paw and the ring is held in place by some fabric extending from his armband like Miroku from Inuyasha covering his wind tunnel. Which raised several questions for Billy that probably isn’t the best time to ponder.


His suit has a subtle polkadotted pattern that you can’t see unless you’re real close up to it.


Once he’s done admiring the suit, he screams.


“What have I gotten myself into!?”


🐞 & 🐈


Tommy wasn’t having the greatest of days. Trips to the fucking hypermarket were the worst. If they wanted them to have “freedom,” maybe they shouldn’t’ve kept them locked up behind bars 22 hours a day. He managed to elude the mook on babysitting duty by stealing their keys and freeing his shackles then running into the crowd. It’s old hat to him by now, no matter what mook they chase after him. He’s always been fast. He’d get away then steal a couple of wallets and hitch a few rides then when fatigue would catch up with him he’d drop and wake up in a cell in a new city. Wasn’t the most glamorous of lives but it was his.


Then, before history could repeat itself, everything went to shit.


People abruptly started screaming and fighting each other. Tommy saw his babysitter running after him until a purple butterfly ran into his hat and he started foaming at the mouth and stripping before running around.


Purple. Butterflies.


Purple Butterflies were fusing into clothing, jewelry, accessories, fucking everything but skin.


So Tommy had to conveniently use a few human shields to avoid getting butterfly’d himself but he'd do damn near anything within reason to avoid being part of this shitshow. He’s been mind-controlled once before and wasn’t a fan.


Then – and he’s getting sick of that word, he ran into an aisle and an old man wearing glasses fucking tripped him up causing him to fall flat on his back.


And the asshole didn’t even seem remorseful about it in the slightest.


Before Tommy could chew the guy out, the dude held up his hand and disintegrated the butterflies heading toward them.


Yeah, that would make just about anyone shut up.


“Do you wish to do better in the world?” He asked.


“Not... particularly.” Tommy answered.


Then, the man smiled and fished out a hexagonal box from his old school looking drawstring satchel and put it in Tommy’s hands. “Follow me.”


Tommy wasn’t conventionally smart – or even unconventionally smart but he followed the guy all the same.


Tommy was instructed to go in the bathroom and open the box while the old man would hold off the butterflies.


When Tommy got in the bathroom he saw the window above a stall shut, but he shrugged it off and opened the box. A pinkish-red light fluttered out of the box then formed into a thing with big ol’ blue eyes... and polkadots. It looked like a demented ladybug plushie. Maybe demented is not the right word but it looked freaky. In a cool way.


The creature that introduced himself slash themself as Tikki said a bunch of shit that flew over Tommy’s head but the part he understood was transform and kick butterfly ass. Okay, he said “purify butterflies,” but that could easily be translated to kick butterfly ass – given the situation.


Tikki told him to say “spots on” and “spots on” is what he said.


He was instantly bathed in a bright pink light after he put on the black earrings in the box. Good thing he had his ears pierced.


Tommy looked at his reflection in the mirror once the spots stopped dancing around his eyes.


He was wearing a pinkish red polkadotted black outfit; black boots with polkadotted soles and fingerless gloves that were the inverted colors of his suit. There’s red and black nail polish alternating colors on his fingers. He also had big ass ladybug wings and antennas coming out of his now red hair.


His hair is naturally white so he had no comment for the color change.


The freak-est part was his eyes. They were compound like a real bug except they were bright fucking blue. Now Tommy hasn’t seen a ladybug up close before but if he saw a giant ladybug boy with bug eyes, he’d flip his shit.


He didn’t have a mask but Tommy doubted if he knew anyone in the city, they’d recognize him with giant bug eyes.


Whoa. He was definitely gonna have nightmares about giant bug eyes when this ended.


When Tommy opened the door and the bespectacled old man – who introduced himself as Fù on their way to the bathroom engaging in small talk – tumbled in, there was a brief period of amusement (compensation from the tripping), but he swallowed it down. Fù picked himself off the floor and dusted himself off before easily climbing the open stall and took something, presumably another box, out of the satchel and put it out the window then easily climbed back down.


“Now what?”


“Now? Now, you purify the butterflies.”


All of them?!” Fù nods. “How? They’re... in people.”


“You’ll find a way. Trust your instincts, Thomas. I need to put the rest of the team together.” Then he just leaves the bathroom. Like, what the fuck!


Tommy blows out a breath then hears someone screaming. And not the frantic, frothing screaming from in here. With a shrug, he climbs out the bathroom window to find a cat-boy clad in black chasing his tail.


“Am I interrupting something?”


The cat-boy startles then turns to him wide-eyed. Tommy’s been around lots of cats (strays, just like him) so he is impressed with the realism of their eyes. “Ladybug.” The cat-boy says pointing at him.


Tommy gestures to himself, “ladybug." He confirms. "C’mon, teammate, we got a situation that needs handling.” Then he climbs back through the window. A few seconds later, cat-boy follows suit.


Cat-boy gasps at his reflection, “this is unreal... and your eyes are creeping me out.”


“Yeah? Well you’re not the one with the creepy-ass eyes.” Tommy retorts.


“Do you have a superhero name? I was thinking of something destruction based. Also, what are your powers?”


Oh fuck. He didn’t ask. “Purification, I guess, and a... yo-yo.”


The cat-boy unlatches the baton from his belt staring at it. “My power is destruction.” They cautiously open the bathroom door and peer out into the chaos. “Do you know how this started?”


“Nope. Alls I know is I gotta purify the butterflies.”


Cat-boy’s ears wilt, “my family is out there... affected by the butterflies.”


“I don’t know how I’m gonna get the butterflies out of the people yet, I’m gonna focus on the ones flying around looking for their bodysnatch.”


“I guess I’ll watch your six while you’re doing that?”


“Sure you can? What if it means fighting your family?”


The cat-boy’s ears droop further, “I-I don’t know. I... I’d just have to knock ‘em out quick and painless.”


🐞 & 🐈


Back to school shopping was the worst. The hypermarket was crowded, full of other people who also waited to the last minute to gather the necessary school supplies. Her parents’ “excuse” was they were “busy” with work. Busy with work from the jobs they haven’t been to yet. They moved here because her mother loved shoving her knowledge of history in the faces of anyone who’d listen (and even people who didn’t care) so she became one of the lead curators at the Louvre while her father was more stuck in shoving his knowledge of technology in people’s faces so he became one of the Louvre’s IT support guys.


Molly should’ve accepted her aunt’s offer of staying in America. She might still be suffering from jetlag. How long does jetlag last anyhow? The brunette swerves out the way of a large, jovial man happily ripping things off the top shelf and chucking them behind him. On her skates, she ducks from the butterfly that phases through the wall behind her.


Molly grabs a free sample from the abandoned booth then continues skating.


She checked every exit of this god-forsaken hellpit and they were all sealed shut.


This would be an optimal looting scenario if everything wasn’t getting destroyed.


So Maríana Georgina Hernandez-Hayes was stuck skating until her skates wore out or a butterfly managed to catch and possess her, turning her into a screaming, frothing mess the same way it did her parents. As she keeps skating, gasping when she sees the display of colorful animal hats remained untouched, something pulls her into an aisle.


The hats!” She cries.


The bespectacled old man in front of her puts a finger to his lips. Molly quiets, but she isn’t happy about it, and rushing footsteps stampede down the aisle. The old man has a hand mirror in his hands as he sees the retreating people running in the opposite direction. He breathes a sigh of relief after several seconds of silence. “Are you injured?”

Molly adjusts her blue penguin hat on her head. “Nope. Been working on my skating. I’m gonna have such buff legs. But enough about me, how... how’d you know they were coming?” Her eyes light up, “are you magic?”


The old man blinks at her for several seconds before nodding.


Molly squeals. The man digs into his old school looking black drawstring purse and pulls out a black and red hexagonal box. “This—” He stares at the box then frowns, “wait a second. Wrong one.” He puts the box back in the satchel then pulls out another one. “Ah.” He offers Molly the box and she happily accepts it. Though her parents’ voices are screaming at her for accepting trinkets from strangers. But hey, magic strangers carry magic trinkets. Plus, what they didn’t know wouldn’t cause a lecture.


“It’s so cute.” Molly peers open the box but the old man puts a hand down on it.


“Not here. I suggest you find an empty place to open that box.”


“Got it. But... uh, why did you give it to me in the first place?”


“Only five individuals aside from myself have managed to elude the akumas in the past half hour. I need to find the other two before they’re affected as well. Inside that box—” The man slowly lifts his hands on it, “is a magical artifact—” Called it! “—that’ll give you the power to assist your team and deal with the butterflies.”


“This is so badass~” Molly puts the box in her jacket pocket. She had her jacket tied around her waist – old school style when they entered the hypermarket. Huh. And to think, her parents didn’t want her wearing her skates. “Um... in case we make it out of here intact, do I give this back to you?”


“We’ll see.”


“Cryptic. I like it!” Molly pats her pocket, “I’m Maríana but I go by Molly since me and my ma have the same name. Nice meeting you.”


“Nice meeting you as well. Mlle. Molly. I am Fù. Be careful.”


“You too, man.” Nodding, Fù looks around the corner then dashes off. Huh. He’s just about as quick as Molly was on skates. Does magic make you faster? She’ll have to ask when they meet up again.


With a shrug, Molly skates until she finds the ladies’ bathroom in the back of the hypermarket. Once inside, she slams the door shut. She hears someone let out a sob. “It’s alright, I’m not... butterfly’d.” That just makes whoever it is sob harder. “Aww geez.”


Shaking her head, she skates over to the open stall where a girl with multicolored dreadlocks is sitting on a roll of toilet paper on the floor in front of the toilet sobbing. “My papa...” She sniffles.


Molly wonders if this is one of the five people Fù mentioned? “Your papa...?”


The girl looks up, tears running down her face. “My papa. H-He shielded me from the butterflies.” She cries out hiccuping.


Molly nods with a hum. Oh boy, she’s not the best person to deal with this. “I, uh, have it on good authority someone is taking care of those butterflies... as we speak! So you should stay here.” Which means Molly has to go—as she turns to leave, the girl grabs Molly’s jacket.


Please! Don’t! Leave!” She sobs hysterically.


“Okay, okay! I’ll stay.” Sniffling, the girl lets go of Molly’s jacket and the brunette blows out a breath. “I am not sitting on the floor though.”


🐞 & 🐈


“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Johnny swears tripping the oncoming possessed man, sending him flying into a container of large bouncy balls behind them. “Ramone!”


Duck!” Her brother narrowly dodges the stool Ramone hurls at the exit door. They both groan when the stool practically bounces off the door, without making so much as a dent, loudly clattering to the ground.


Had they known this clusterfuck would be the state of things, they would’ve held off their piercings until never.


But hey at least they discovered you can only get infected if a butterfly came in contact with something on your person. They found that out when an infected guy grabbed Ramone from behind and nothing happened; Johnny shoulder-bashed the guy and he let go as he fell on his ass. Also, they saw a butterfly fly into this guy’s pen he had clipped onto his shirt collar and he started streaming right after a butterfly mask outline appeared over his eyes and nose.


Seeing the approaching butterflies, Ramone grabs her twin’s hand and they haul ass.


“We’re gonna get caught.”


“Like fuck we are.”


Another reason Ramone wanted to head to the hypermarket was for the meet-n-greet with Anansi. Ramone saw the amateur kickboxer among the infected, giving a pair of little girls a ride on her shoulders as they bumrushed through other people.


A chair behind hurled into the glasses store they just sped past, makes Ramone pick up speed.


In seemingly slow-motion, Ramone loses her grip on Johnny and his bangle slips off his hand. Ramone gasps turning to her brother. Who loses his balance and stumbles onto his knees. The butterfly bypasses him completely and flies into the bangle in her hand.


Ramone gasps hearing a voice calling for her to “spread the chaos,” then suddenly the voice is gone. She looks around and sees Johnny also holding on the bangle in her hand. “Johnn—” He pulls the bangle out of her hand and cradles the bangle against his chest. “No!”


R-Run, Ramone!” The purple butterfly mask outline forms over his eyes.


“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Gritting her teeth, Ramone runs off. Like some kind of cliché side character in a b-list, over-the-top horror film. Oh that asshole is gonna pay dearly for this!


She looks over her shoulder before turning the corner to see Johnny still sitting there holding the bangle. Wait—?


Before she can ponder that further, a door abruptly opens nearly hitting her in the face but a pink and blue blur does collide with her and they fall into each other.


“Guess they would go into the bathroom.” A voice mutters.


As they’re detangling their limbs from each other, a tiny girl with rainbow-colored dreadlocks jumps over their prone bodies cackling like some kind of overdramatic cartoon villain as she skulks into the fray.


“Hey!” The brunette takes off her penguin hat and shakes her long hair, “maybe if we hunch like the rest of the zombies the butterflies won’t bug us... ugh! Didn’t mean... well, you know!”


“It’s worth a shot?” She’s tried running for the past twenty minutes and that still got Johnny caught.


They get to their feet and mimic the cackling girl’s movements – which is gonna be murder on their backs – and the butterflies surprisingly pay them no mind as they fly overhead.


Attention my lovely akumas—” The loudspeaker crackles to life and the girls still their movements, “I’ve lost visual in the pharmacy and the toy section. Report the status of those areas immediately!” The loudspeaker shuts off.


“This guy sounds like a total asshole.” The brunette mutters.


“The pharmacy.” Ramone gasps, “we need to get there before the akumas do.” The brunette nods then they take off.


The loudspeaker shrieks back on, “also... it seems as though someone isn’t keen on giving into their darkest desires. Deliver that solitary, stubborn soul to me, personally.” Then the loudspeaker shuts off again.


“Fuck. He’s probably talking about my twin brother Johnny.”


The brunette grabs Ramone’s hand and they run. When they reach the pharmacy counter, they hop over it jumping into the pharmacy. The brunette looks up taking a slingshot out of her pocket, she fires a pellet at the camera above them then another one at the camera in the left corner (and how she hit that from their distance is impressive). As the girl gets up to look for more cameras, a hexagonal black and red box falls into Ramone’s lap.


Ramone opens the box as the girl turns around and a green ball of light surges from the box hovering a good distance above the box – that has a black bracelet with white trapezoid charms inside – forming into a turtle-looking thing.


“Ooh. You got a box too!” The brunette pulls an identical box out of her pocket and opens it. A grey ball of light shoots out then takes shape into a mouse the same size as the turtle still hovering in front of Ramone. “That means we’re teammates!” She cheers. “And I took out the other cameras but we’re still kinda out in the open. There’s more space by the shelves over here.” The brunette helps Ramone up then they squeeze behind the shelves that still give them a good view of the outside without being seen themselves.


“This is... a little unorthodox.” The turtle thing says with a frown.

The mouse thing sits on the brunette’s head, “I like the way you smell. I am Toppo, kwami of multiplication. The grumpy looking one is the kwami of explaining things too long.”


The turtle frowns at the mouse then turns back to Ramone, “I am the kwami of protection. Wayzz, at your service my Chosen.”


“‘Chosen?’ Chosen for what?”


“To be a superhero!” The brunette and the mouse chirp simultaneously.

“We use the jewelry to power up and stick it to Monarque!” The brunette gasps picking up the rose gold necklace with the mouse face-shaped pendant from her box. “This is so pretty!”


Ramone stares at the bracelet in the box remembering Johnny taking his bangle that afflicted her first. “We’re gonna use jewelry to...” She trails off. Well, the other day they were looking at that haunted castles tv series. Plus, with fucking butterflies turning people into empty husks of mindless violence, anything is literally possible at this point. “How does the jewelry work?”


“So glad you asked.” Wayzz pats the bracelet Ramone slips over her left wrist, “to transform say: shell on, and shell off to untransform.”


“I don’t think that’s a word—” The brunette interjects.


“For me~” The mouse flies in the brunette’s face, “it’s get squeaky and when you wanna turn back it’s dulcet tones.”


Ramone looks to the brunette who nods, “he’s hurting a lot of people. We gotta pay him back in kind.”


“Damn right we do.” Ramone puts the necklace on the brunette’s neck latching it closed. “Shell on.”


“Get squeaky!”


🐞 & 🐈


“W-Why are we wadding th-through the f-f-fucking f-frozen food se-section?” Billy can hear his teammate’s teeth chattering. As it turns out, these large soft to the touch ears are not just for show. (Though he’s surprised the ladybug-boy has teeth given his bug eyes. Do ladybugs have teeth?)


“As you may have noticed, it’s the only place there are no butterflies.”


Teammates!” Billy barely has time to react before a grey mouse tackles him into the ice cream freezer door. “Hi!” The mouse-girl jumps off him then points at ladybug-boy, the green turtle-girl, herself, then Billy. “Huh? He said there were gonna be five.” The turtle-girl backs up from the freezer, rubbing her arms.


Billy shakily pushes himself off the door, “alright, so we need to do something. I’m sick of this shit.”


“Let’s arm ourselves with frozen food to ward off butterflies!” Mouse-girl cheers. Like Billy, she has large animal ears atop her hair – both being grey; her short spiky hair splaying in all directions. Her suit is mostly grey though it does have the irregular brown or white spot throughout it. Her left boot is white and the right boot is brown; the armbands are grey and Billy noticed her pink sparkly nail polish. There’s a pink necklace with a black circular pendant around her neck. Mouse-girl has a pink whip tied across her waist like a makeshift belt. The turtle, however, has an intricate sorta hexagonal pattern throughout their suit – and she has a hood that hides most of her long green hair, except the bits flowing over her shoulders. Instead of a mask like him and mouse-girl, she has a pair of goggles over her eyes, and her lips are green. From what Billy can see, her weapon can only be that big ass shell on her back that’s a darker green than her suit; the same shade of green as her lips and goggle frames.


“That may prevent us from getting butterfly’d but it won’t do much for the people already infected.” Mouse-girl taps her chin in thought then slumps her shoulders nodding in agreement.


“Are you in charge?” Turtle-girl asks.


Billy jerks a thumb at Ladybug-boy. “What? No. I didn’t agree to be team lead.”


“The akumas need to be purified and you’re the only one who can do that.”


“That doesn’t mean I gotta be the leader.”


“You’re wearing red.” Mouse-girl interrupts, “the leader always wears red.”


Ladybug-boy runs a fingerless gloved hand down his face. Billy just noticed all of them have fingerless gloves and nail polish. Ladybug-boy’s lips are just a tiny bit reddish, and shiny from a lip gloss rather than the matte of a lipstick. Mouse-girl has a baby pink glossy lipstick on. When Billy looked at himself in the mirror, he didn’t notice any change to his lips. (Wearing black lipstick, glossy or matte, would've been so cool! Opportunity wasted.)


“Suck it up, Bug-Boy.” Turtle-girl cracks her knuckles, “that butterfly fucker is number one on my shitlist and if we can take the fight to him, we’re gonna.”


“I’ve been purifying every akuma I’ve come in contact with but more just keeps coming.” Billy nods in agreement. Thankfully, he’s been fortunate enough not to come across his family so he didn’t have to fight or subdue them. Which meant he actually got to enjoy running around the hypermarket in a leather leotard.


“What about people? Have you been able to...?” Ladybug-boy shakes his head and Turtle-girl sighs. “What’s it—”


The loudspeaker loudly crackles to life. “How kind of you to not only hand-deliver the ladybug and black cat Miraculouses to me but a turtle and a mouse!


“Wings off our goods, butter-bitch!” Mouse-girl exclaims, “we’re the ones who are gonna be taking your Miraculous!”


There’s a cacophony of agonizing screams as the butterflies fly out of approaching bodies. The four of them cringe as the bodies miserably crumple to the floor once the butterflies are released.


“That is... one way to free the butterflies from people.” Billy mutters.


The butterflies all fly around in a circle coming together to form a face. The face is a mask covering everything except their purple eyes and a pale white mouth. A stereotypical villainous laugh comes from the face and the loudspeaker. “I have thousands of butterflies at my disposal! What could you possibly—”


“I’ve heard enough.” Turtle-girl takes off her shield then hurls it at the face hitting it between the eyes scattering the butterflies. “Scoop ‘em up, Beetleboy.”


“I don’t remember delegating leadership to you.”


“Oh? So now you wanna lead?”


“I-I—!” Ladybug-boy growls unlatching his yo-yo from his hip, swinging it. Like before, the yo-yo turns into a net as the akumas are being nabbed up.


“Isn’t there anything we can do?” Mouse-girl asks then groans, “I should’ve asked how my powers work before transforming!”


Billy and Turtle-girl both look at her, thinking the same thing. At least, Ladybug-boy knows how to purify the akumas or they’d really be screwed!


“Wait. Where’s the loudspeaker located?”


“Probably in some kind of office.” Billy’s eyes widen, “if the akumas are endless...”


“We take out the akuma maker." Turtle-girl finishes. "You take Mousey over there and find out the layout of this place.”


Billy nods then walks over to Mouse-girl; he whispers in her ear then she nods unfurling the whip that is actually a jumprope. Ah... well. hm.


They run off, Billy sees Turtle-girl taking a few steps closer to Ladybug-boy.

🐞 & 🐈


Did Fù miscount? He still has a miniature Miraculous Box in his possession but he senses two individuals that haven’t been affected yet. His powers of premonition don’t give him much to work with on the best of days, but they told him five suitable-ish Miraculous users would be available once “Seigneur” Monarque let loose a mass akumatization at the Supergalaxy hypermarket.


As much as he wished he didn’t have to use children, the powers that be sucker-punched his conscience. While Monarque was most likely an adult, the magic didn’t seem to affect him more or less than it did the kids he selected, so age had no factor in how malleable someone was to magical influence. Hopefully, the Miraculous’ side effects would be slower to affect the children due to their age. Fù has never selected anyone less than forty to wield a Miraculous before, and it was never really so much him doing the selecting but the sages pointing out the individuals for him.


When he sees two of the four run off, hopefully after they formulated a plan he continues the search with renewed purpose. They’re gonna need that fifth member, and he definitely needs to find this other person unaffected.


🐞 & 🐈


“This is... really fucking tiring.” Tommy grits out. Catches a group of akumas. More akumas show up.


The loudspeaker feedback, as it screeches to life, makes Tommy grit his teeth, “why don’t you give up, Little Bug? It would be so much easier on you.


“Go to hell.”


The voice tsks. “Doing this serves no purpose. As I’ve said, I have billions of akumas at my disposal.


“He totally didn’t say billions before.” The turtle-girl points out. “You think I can take over for you while you catch your breath? Or are only you able to make the net?”


“You wanna give it a shot, I’m more than happy to let you.”


There’s a wayward chord Tommy knows he isn’t the only one to hear because Turtle-girl pauses right before she reaches him. “You hear that?”


“Sorry. That was me. Just testing out my power.” A turquoise snake of all things just casually strolls toward them. Their suit has a snake scale pattern (totally unoriginal) and they have a mask covering the whole top half of their face, including their hair and ears. Leaving only their mouth and chin exposed. Oh and well, hmmm—they have fangs and slit snake eyes. “I stopped time for the minute. You should be able to catch your breath.”


A minute? You couldn’t stop time for longer?”


“I will, just relax. I’m gonna go back and use the second chance again.”


“What?”


“Oops. Minute’s up.” The three of them look up and hear Monarque monologuing. “Hold up a sec.”


“You wanna give it a shot, I’m more than happy to let you.”


“If this blows up in my face killing me, I’m haunting your ass.” There’s a wayward chord Tommy knows he isn’t the only one to hear because Turtle-girl pauses mid-step right before she reaches him. “You hear that?”


“Whew! I know I got it this time.” A snake casually strolls up to them holding a harp. “Hey! So I stopped time. That should allow you to catch your breath and then catch the rest of the akumas before more show up.”


“That’s... a relief.” Tommy breathes out. The turtle-girl prevents him from slumping to the ground.


A portal opens to the left of the trio and not only does a dark brown horse jump out of it but cat-boy and mouse-girl jump out as well. “That asshole isn’t even in the hypermarket!” Mouse-girl growls. “He has an akuma in the camera room!” She shakes her head, “I mean, he has an akuma in a guy in the camera room!”


“Wait...” Turtle-girl tilts her head to the left, “I thought you said ‘he’ said there were only five of us?”


“Found one got another for free.” The horse says with a shrug, smiling at turtle-girl. Turtle-girl looks back at the horse apprehensively. The horse’s outfit is all dark brown – a subtle dot grid pattern with barely noticeable lighter brown in it; they have a curly white head of braided hair tied in a high ponytail. Dark brown lipstick, white nail polish, ankle-length white boots, a long curly white tail. They’re also wearing sunglasses.

“Let’s get this over with. I’m starving.”


Together, the five of them help keep Tommy upright as he manages to scoop up and purify all the akumas before Snake-Guy’s timer times out and time flows normally again.


Everybody but Turtle-girl, for obvious reasons, ready their weapons.


Their weapons: he has his yo-yo – which admittedly hurt when he swung it and hit himself, cat-boy has his baton, mouse-girl has a jumprope, the horse... has a horseshoe (seriously?), the snake is holding a harp, and the only possible weapon Tommy’s seen on the turtle-girl is her shell. (She did throw it after all.) These are interesting weapon choices they’re brandishing.


You think you’ve won?” Monarque proclaims via loudspeaker. “This is merely the beginning. You’re gonna wish you took the easy route when I gave you the option. I am a very patient man, and I am more than comfortable playing the long game.


“You talk a big game, Butterfly Guy, we’ll see if you can back it up!” Mouse-girl – aka the instigator – yells.


The loudspeaker feedback has them – Cat-boy and Mouse-girl in particular, possibly due to their larger ears – cringing. Huh. Well the ears aren’t just for show. That’s... good to know. He guesses.


Tommy cracks his back. “This was fun.”


“Wasn’t it? We kicked ass!” Mouse-girl cheers, hugging as many people as she can fit her arms around. “We need nicknames and communication devices! I wanna be called Southpaw!”


“Do mouses have paws?” Cat-boy whispers to Tommy who shrugs in reply.


“Slow down!” The horse says. “We can’t opt out of this so we gotta talk to our kwamis and make sure we know what the hell we’re doing for next time.”


“I would like to know just exactly what the hell I’m getting myself into, especially if I can’t refuse.” Turtle-girl says folding her arms over her chest.


“We’d better split before people get up and start asking questions we don’t have answers to yet.” Tommy says. “And this isn’t an executive leader decision or anything.”


“We can figure out leaders and stuff next time.” The snake pats Tommy on the shoulder.


“We took care of the cameras while we were in the ...camera room so we don’t have to worry about anyone unaffected seeing us.” Cat-boy says.


“That’s a relief.” The horse says running a hand through their hair. “Anyway, until the next catastrophe~”


The others wave at one another before the six of them all split off in different directions.


🐞 & 🐈


Billy casually strolls in the bathroom to break transformation. Although the cameras weren’t gonna pick them up, Billy didn’t wanna detransform out in the open in case someone got up and spotted him. He saw people slowly getting to their senses as he walked past. “Claws in.” There’s a bright black flash that comes from his left hand and his suit sorta melts off his body going into the ring that Plagg floats out of. Uh... that.... huh.


“Got anything to eat? I’m not picky but I’d prefer cheese.”


“Cats are lactose intolerant.”


“Regular cats, sure, but magical cats such as myself are connoisseurs of cheese. Die-hard lovers of it. Hard cheese, soft cheese, firm cheese, fresh cheese, blue mold—” Billy makes a face as drool runs down the kwami’s mouth. Clearing her throat, she wipes her mouth, “just don’t give me that weak, wilty ultra bendy shit the stores pass off as cheese and we’ll be square.”


“What are your thoughts on spray cheese?”


A dark look crosses Plagg’s face. “You don’t wanna know, Kit.”


“I’ll grab you some cheese.” He takes his ring off. “I’ll buy a few rings so my parents won’t ask questions.”


Plagg nods taking the ring then flying into Billy’s hoodie pocket.


The second Billy exits the bathroom, his phone starts ringing. “Found him!” Billy looks up from his phone, carefully putting it in his pocket beside Plagg as his brothers run over to him. Walt looks him over. “How’d you end up in here?”


“I—” Billy shrugs.


“Do you know what happened?” Billy shrugs again.


Wally puts a hand on his head, “all I remember is the screaming...” He rubs at his throat, “and the annoying voice telling me to destroy stuff.” He rasps, rubbing at his throat again.


“I just remember feeling angry... but not sure why.”


Billy watches other people reunite with their families. If the Miraculouses were all jewelry or accessories, he’s seen the mouse’s (a pink necklace with a black pendant), the snake’s (a turquoise bangle), and the turtle’s (a chrome bracelet with a green turtle shell charm); so he doesn’t know the ladybug’s or horse’s now. And if they were anything like his ring, they changed color and shape once the kwami was no longer in it making them difficult for “Seigneur” Monarque to find unless they were transformed.


Rebecca is sitting on a bench on the phone with her other hand mostly covering her face. Just what the hell did Monarque say to cause her to start bawling like that? What did he say over the loudspeaker? Something about darkest desires? Plagg said he was just making everyone angry and people do often cry when angry but his mother’s crying wasn’t angry. He’s seen her angry cry before; just once. He got expelled from his previous school because he fought back a bully tormenting him for three weeks straight that the faculty turned a blind eye to.

Billy threw in a laxative and some bee pollen (which the boy was deathly allergic to) into the lunch the bully stole from him. His mother furiously wiped her eyes as she cursed out the smug asshole principal and the boy’s parents.


As they shopped around, people were just straight-up weirdly polite to one another. Probably didn’t want to get possessed again. It was the most pleasant shopping trip Billy’s ever had in his fourteen years on this planet.


Hell, people were even paying for items of the person behind them. (Billy was grateful he was last on the line because he only had like 30 € on him.)


His mother suspiciously eyed his purchases of seven varieties of “real” cheese and three silver rings.


Their father, Jeff, is a hysterical blubbering mess the second they walk in the front door of their house.


After putting the groceries away, Billy heads to his bedroom and his family sits in the living room regaling their father of what happened at the hypermarket.


Plagg floats out of his hoodie and Billy puts Plagg’s ring on his left middle finger and two of the other rings he bought; one goes on his right pointer finger and the other on his right middle finger. They make his hands look weird but perhaps he’s biased.


Billy managed to slip an entire block of cheddar cheese into his pocket while he was helping put the groceries away. He was hardly expecting the block to be half-finished when Plagg takes it out of his hoodie pocket.


“What? I told you I like cheese.” Once he changed his clothes, Billy collapses on his bed putting his arm over his eyes. “You handled yourself well today, Kit, but like that horse said – we gotta get you up to speed on all your powers and whatnot.”


“Ugh.” Billy groans, “I’m just an ordinary nerd who fanboys about superheroes, as you can see by my room.” Plagg looks around seeing various superhero characters posters adorning his walls, and the toys and other paraphernalia spread out all over the room. “I’m not a superhero myself.”


“I don’t see why you can’t be an extraordinary nerd superhero?” Billy lowers his hand to stare at Plagg who flies over to him holding out a piece of cheese. Sitting up, Billy hesitantly accepts the offer. “Trust me on this, Kit, the people who don’t believe they're superhero material usually are. I’ve partnered up with all types. You got the superhero goods.” Plagg pats Billy’s chest. “All you need to do is let your chaos out just a bit. Open yourself up to the possibility of exploring your inner darkness. Let me help you be your best self by using my destructive nature to your advantage.”


“I don’t have anything in particular going on in my life right now and I can’t get any worse than rock bottom, right? What do I have to lose?” Plagg beams as Billy grips Plagg’s paw and they shake hands.

Chapter 2: an ordinary Jersey trash bag

Summary:

Now that he has Tikki and the magic earrings, Tommy has to watch his ass 24/7

Chapter Text

He hasn’t slept in two days. Not even a quadruple shot of espresso combined with two energy drinks is enough to keep him from nodding off every few seconds.


With Tikki and the magic earrings, Tommy can’t afford to be careless. Which sucks because Tommy’s default mode is carelessness. It’s the reason why he’s been in so many juvenile detention centres around the world.


He doesn’t know what Monarque wants his Miraculous for, and Tommy has no intention of handing them to him and finding out. If Monarque wants to go the cliché supervillain route of “wanting to rule the world” or whatever, Tommy wants no part of contributing to it.


Having to care sucks. Damn that butterfly asshole!


Tommy feels his eyelids drooping closed then Tikki gently patting his face. “I’m up!” He shakes his head downing the rest of his coffee. He has to keep moving. Tossing the empty can in the garbage, Tommy keeps on walking.


Tikki flies in front of his face and he stops walking. “Tommy, you can’t keep this up! You’re gonna literally drop from exhaustion, and if you drink anymore caffeine your heart just might stop! Let me take you to the Guardian? I’m sure he’ll allow you to rest for as long as you need.” With all the madness in the hypermarket, Tommy managed to discard the prison uniform (that he may or may not have lit on fire in the trash), grabbing up a new outfit and stuffing a backpack full of clothes and food, walking right out the exit doors before anyone got to their senses. The cameras were taken care of so he didn’t have to worry about being caught and lots of shit got destroyed and no doubt looted so no one would be looking for the shifty-green-eyed, white-haired kid. But he grabbed a hat just in case.


A knit cap because he’s seen superheroes try to go “incognito” by wearing a baseball cap and a pair of aviator shades then are genuinely surprised when they get discovered.


“The old man.” Tommy murmurs. He did see Tommy in his prison getup yet still (foolishly) decided to give him an untapped source of power he’s very likely to misuse. Honestly, not the greatest decision on Fù’s part; desperation of the situation be damned. Fù’d probably make that whole “I saw something within you” argument. Him? Him! Thomas W. Shepherd. An ordinary Jersey trash bag whose own parents gave up on. Given superpowers. Willingly! He always thought to himself if he had any sort of superpower he’d use it to fuck with people around him just for laughs. Maybe he can make that a reality? “Guess I got nothing to lose. Lead the way.”


Tikki beams then nods flying under his hat.


It would’ve taken just five minutes on the metro to arrive at Fù’s HQ, which turned out to be a comic bookshop of all things (huh. There’s an irony in this, isn’t there?), but he surely would’ve fallen asleep once he sat down so he braved the half-hour walk with Tikki spouting all sorts of random albeit interesting facts about the Miraculouses.


Tommy tries to projects as much casualness as one can when pumped full of caffeine and nearing 60 straight hours of being awake, as he enters the shop.


Other kids around his age are engrossed in reading or just enamored with looking around.


If he were more coherent, he’d look around some.


Fù is behind the counter dealing with a customer; a girl, seemingly around his age, with a Majestia t-shirt and long dark brown hair.


Most of if not all of the other Miraculous users from the other day had to have seen Fù for him to pass on a Miraculous to them. (Tommy remembers him just casually handing out a Miraculous later revealed to be the cat without bothering to look at the kid, so he doesn’t know if the Cat knows who Fù is.)


All the news coverage from the other day is shrouded in mystery. People just assumed Monarque got bored then left because he didn’t find what he was looking for. Some said he wasn’t there at all and the whole thing was a set-up to take the heat off the newly re-elected mayor.


Until that overly dramatic asshole attacked again, no one would know of the six of them. If Tommy’s lucky, Monarque will resurface after he’s had a nap and a hot shower that’s lasted for more than five minutes.


Fù bags the girl’s purchase sending her on her way. She thanks him profusely before exiting the shop but not before giving Tommy a curious glance on the way out.


Tommy approaches the counter, pausing when he sees a Majestia vs Captain America comic on the shelf behind the counter – from the fucking 1950’s. In one of the juvie’s he was in in California (don’t ask him how he got there, because he has no idea), they constantly spoke about how the government did Captain America dirty once the serum began to deteriorate his mind making him of no further use to them. Then they literally iced him until they could find a cure. (Some say he’s still frozen some 70 odd years later!)


Majestia was a product of the “upgraded” drug that made Captain America, but she also lost her mind then disappeared. Rumored to be iced as well.

Didn’t stop people from making comics about either of them, though.


“Pardon me for saying this...” Tommy looks down at Fù, “but you look like shit.”


Tommy smiles, “you’re clearly not the benevolent type, are you?”


Fù returns the smile, “that all depends on the company. Now, I appreciate you stopping by. I have something in the backroom I’d like you to take a look at.”


Tommy tilts his head to the left in confusion until Tikki pats him on the head through the hat. “Ah... right. Thanks.”


“No, thank you.” Tommy hoists his backpack over his shoulder then walks past Fù to the backroom.


He walks down the corridor. To the left is a room and to the right is a staircase. Tikki lifts his hat and flies out of it. “The spare room is the last room on the right, next to the bathroom.”


Nodding, he treks up the stairs. There’s a small, extra floofy brown and grey cat napping on a stair. Tommy tip-toes around the cat and Tikki is making a weird face as they pass by. “Please tell me that cat is magic?” Tommy whispers.


“To be determined.” Tikki whispers back.


🐞 & 🐈


“Wake up, Kit.” Brown eyes flutter open and Billy blinks for several seconds and Plagg comes mostly into focus. “We’re gonna work on your magic!”


“Wha—?” The brunet yawns, “I wanna enjoy the next week before I have to go to school.”


“You’ve had two days off to ‘enjoy your week.’ You don’t wanna show up to another fight unprepared. You, in particular, can’t be caught off guard again.” Groaning, Billy reluctantly gets out of bed and heads to the bathroom.


After showering, he looks at his reflection in the mirror and squints. Is—he runs his tongue along his incisors hissing when he cuts his tongue. “Ma mouf!” He sticks his slightly bloody tongue out and opens his mouth wider.


“Your incisors are growing in. Totally normal.” Plagg floated in the sink taking her own shower while Billy took his. Plagg took some toothpaste on her paw and started brushing her teeth. (Billy made a note to pick up one of those doll-sized toothbrushes for Plagg to use.)


“‘Normal?’ Normal?! Nothing about this—” He points at his mouth, “—is ‘normal.’”


This is why I told you we need to work on your magic. There are side effects to using the Miraculous, like there are side effects for any magical artifact. Completely normal side effects. Also some completely abnormal but I haven’t noticed any of those yet. Because our RNA merges when we fuse, you will develop cat-like tendencies.”


Billy gasps bringing his hands to his cheeks, “Plagg, will I start licking myself clean in public?!”


“Only if you’re dirty.” The brunet thumps his head against the mirror. “D-Don’t get discouraged! You won’t ever do it around anyone you don’t trust implicitly.”


“Great, so only the people I ‘trust’ will find out I’m a freak.”


“If they know you and you trust them, there’s a pretty high chance they already know you’re a freak.”


Billy sighs lifting his head from the mirror, “you got me there.” He puts a towel on his head to dry his hair as he gets dressed. “What sort of magic do we need to work on?”


“Your main ability, like I told you, is destruction. You can invoke the power by calling ‘cataclysm.’ Whichever hand the ring is on will spark pure destructive energy. Anything you touch will be disintegrated instantly. But, be warned, you only have a minute to use the power before it cancels itself.”


“And then what?”


“Then you could be akuma bait if you’re not careful. Your power is on a five minute timer. If you use it you have to wait five minutes before you can use it again and even then you can only use it four more times before you break transformation instantly. Once you’re more adapted to your abilities, the timer goes away. And you can use more abilities. So far you—well you play video games so this should be easy to understand. You start off at level one with just your base ability: cataclysm. As you level up, you unlock new powers.”


“More experience makes me stronger! It’s like I’m a Pokémon... without the four move limit, even though there’s still the PP issue.”


“Uh... in a matter of speaking, yeah? Or it’s more like you’re your own video game avatar, except you don’t get to choose your pre-set powers.”


Billy’s eyes light up briefly. “Awesome. Wait a sec...! What do you get out of this deal? Hardly seems fair that I’m getting powers and whatever from transforming.”


“I get fed good cheese.” Billy gives her an unimpressed look, “I also...” Plagg makes a face, “I see the world. I’m stuck in a damn box until I’m ‘needed,’ and the damn sages tethered us to our Miraculouses because ‘we were too powerful to continue to be left unchecked.’ Like, first they stuff our powers in fucking jewelry and tiny toy bodies then they dictate how we use our own powers!”


“Wait... huh?”


“Kwamis have existed since the dawn of time. Forgive my bitterness but humans have mucked up the world, since they showed up. They figured working side by side with beings more powerful than them that they couldn’t see was ‘dangerous’ so they wanted to put themselves in the driver’s seat. They manipulated us into believing we’d be better off with bodies. After all, we’d get to eat and feel things.”


“They just wanted to control you.”


Plagg nods. “We hadn’t realized that until it was too late. Nothing that can be done about it now. All those sages who gave us these bodies are long dead, and why bother tormenting their descendants when they can’t do a damn thing about it?”


“Either way, that’s pretty fucked up.”


“Yeah, it is. I’ve had holders disagree with that. They said the sages were right. Things humans can’t control shouldn’t be around. Like humans are the only creatures in the world.”


“I’ve yet to see a true good side of humanity myself. I mean, from individuals – sure – there are some decent ones out there but as a whole?” Billy shakes his head making a face. “‘Cataclysm,’ huh? Should I practice using it?”


“I wouldn’t recommend it. It’s not something you can practice until you get the hang of. Plus, you have a lot of breakable objects in here. However, you can work on using your baton.”


“Got it. Let’s get something to eat first. I think I have a stick or something I can use like a baton.”


As he walks out the bathroom door, his bedroom door opens. Plagg hides behind his head as Rebecca comes in the room. “Oh! You’re awake.” She stares at him, “...why are you awake?”


“I-I—uh...” Plagg whispers to him and it takes everything within him to not fully turn his head or turn his head at all because he feels Plagg’s paws on the base of his neck, “wha—oh. Right... uh... I mean school. Right. Right. Yeah. I’m, uh, gonna have to get up early for that, right? Might, uh, as well work my way up to... that.” He smiles so big it hurts his teeth.


They stare at each other for several seconds before Rebecca nods with a hum. “That’s... a good attitude to have. A bit surprising but I’m not gonna question it. Hopefully, this school will be better than the last one.”


“If not, we can always move across the globe again. Or do we have to wait three more years?”


Rebecca fondly rolls her eyes. “Blame your father for that. If he weren’t such a good cardiologist he wouldn’t be getting recommendations across the globe. Anyway, I’m glad you’re awake. Your eye doctor called and said there’s an earlier appointment, if we’re interested. I told them we were but I should’ve asked first.”


“It’s fine.”


“Let me grab my purse then tell your father we’re leaving.”


Billy nods then his mother leaves the room. He heads over to his computer chair and puts on the socks he had hanging against the chair back. “Guess we’ll have to practice later, huh?”


Plagg grins at him, “not necessarily.”


🐞 & 🐈


Alya walks into Le Grand Paris with a sigh. The orange-haired teen should’ve shot for Lune Collège of Arts last year like Nora told her, when the school first opened and they kept showing commercials and handing out brochures in the mail. But no... she said what the hell? François Düpont isn’t far. Why not go there? Huge mistake on her part. The school didn’t even have a good amount of clubs to choose from!


There was only a twenty-minute time difference on the metro in the opposite direction, and she wouldn’t be in school with the reigning Parisian Bitch of the Year™ Chloé Bourgeois. The blonde was 1 – the (crooked) mayor’s equally shifty, equally shitty daughter; 2 – Alya’s schoolmate/last year classmate; 3 – one of the entitled pricks her mother – Marlena – answered to. The mayor owned slash lived in Le Grand Paris with his daughter and his wife was also there, albeit infrequently. In an attempt to most likely keep her from bothering him, the mayor let his fourteen-year-old daughter run wild talking down to the staff whether her father was in an earshot or not. (But she damn sure didn’t talk down to Alya’s mother – the orange-haired teen knew that much.)


When Alya went to school, the blonde was there. When Alya visited her mother at work, the blonde was there. Chloé even showed up in her nightmares from time to time. Alya was hoping against hope to visit the hotel without seeing the blonde or her father.


For the past year-and-a-half, Alya watched her mother – a woman of incomparable cooking prowess; winner of multiple James Beard Awards and countless other cooking accolades; a good friend of the fucking president of the united states! – squander away her talents cooking for the same pallid group of ungrateful, entitled, racist, misogynistic, white fuckwads with no taste or tastebuds to speak of that frequented this crummy hotel claiming to be “good friends” with the mayor. Alya suspects they’re always here because they’ve been banned from every other hotel in the city.


According to Marlena, the first time the group came in all holier than thou, spewing their passive-aggressively racist bullshit, they all shut their mouths in disbelief when the chef de cuisine and sous-chef de cuisine for all the food they’ve been raving all night long were black women. Hell, the entire kitchen staff were people of color.

Ever since, they smartly kept their mouths shut in the chef de cuisine or sous-chef de cuisine’s presence, other than to begrudgingly compliment the food. They must’ve had a sixth sense that Marlena Addams-Césaire wouldn’t put up with their bullshit and the Le Grand Paris would be out a few regulars as well as a few employees.


Alya is honestly surprised these people haven’t been poisoned yet. Everyone with common sense knows better than to talk shit about people preparing your food or doing your hair.


Occasionally, there was an actual celebrity staying at the second biggest and “most famous” hotel in the city. The only reason it was the “most famous” was because it was owned by the mayor who was almost always in the news for something negative. But they say there is no such thing as bad press or bad publicity, right? Alya got an autograph from and a couple pictures with Jagged Stone when he stayed at here for the annual music festival last year. He raved on every social media platform about how amazing Marlena’s cooking was. He also might’ve offered to marry her or enter a polyamorous relationship with her and her husband Otis; Alya isn’t sure which and every time she brings it up her parents blush and quickly change the subject.


Thankfully, her favorite security officer was there and she gives Alya a salute as the teen walks by. Taking a deep breath and mentally preparing herself, Alya puts her hand on the kitchen door when someone loudly clears their throat behind her.


Groaning, Alya turns around to see Chloé standing there with her hands folded over her chest. (There wasn’t a soul behind her when she walked down the corridor, she checked twice! And there is only one way in! And she did not hear anything while she was walking! Was there a secret door or something?) “What do you want?”


“Some unsanitary cretin not messing with my kitchen staff.”


Alya adjusts the bag strap over her shoulder, rubbing her fingers along it to prevent herself from doing anything that’ll get her mother fired. “If that’s the case...” She begins calmly, smiling because you never let the enemy believe they have the upper hand, “I hope you weren’t planning on entering the kitchen yourself.”


Chloé’s eyes narrow. “Why are you here?”


“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”


My hotel. My staff. You’d damn well better believe it’s my business.”


Smile slipping off her face, Alya rolls her eyes, “ain’t shit yours just yet but if you must you know my business, Your Royal Crankiness, I am having lunch with my maman. That a problem for you?”


“Not... necessarily. You’re not using hotel resources, I hope? That can constitute a pay cut.”


“I’ll bet it does. We’re not even eating here.”


“Then you have no business entering the kitchen, do you?” The blonde makes a shooing motion, “go wait in the lobby. Go on. What are you waiting for?”


You—” The orange-haired teen takes a deep breath, “no, you’re not even worth it.” She grumbles. Chloé side-steps out the way and Alya walks down the corridor. The blonde watches her go before glancing at the door then entering the kitchen.


“Mlle. Bourgeois!” One of the cooks greets. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”


“Where’s Mme. Césaire?”


“Chef Césaire is washing her hands, preparing to go on break.”


“Thank you.” Chloé smiles at the chef before walking through the kitchen. She finds the orange-haired woman at the sink washing her hands. “Mme. Césaire, I require your input on something. I hope you have the time?”


“You require my input... now?” With a smile, Chloé nods. Marlena returns the smile but they both know it’s forced. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen my daughter, have you Mlle. Bourgeois?”


“No, I don’t recall seeing Anansi in the lobby.” Marlena turns off the sink then grabs a paper towel to dry her hands, all the while eyeing the blonde. “As I’m sure you noticed, we are in dire need of a pâtissièr. Given your connections, I was hoping you’d help us find the hotel’s perfect match?”


“I’d have to get contact with some people no longer in the business, which I wouldn’t dare do during work hours. Excuse me while I get right on that.” Chloé narrows her eyes as the woman walks past her then clocks out. The other chefs, who had all stopped to watch and listen to the conversation, resume working once Chloé takes a deep breath then walks out of the kitchen.


Alya jumps out of the chair when she sees her mother approaching, “you.... you’re here! I thought for sure Chloé would try to keep you in the kitchen.”


“She did.” Marlena puts an arm around her daughter’s shoulder, “what are you in the mood for eating?”


“I—”


The elevator doors open and Alya spots a woman wearing sunglasses with dark blue hair wearing a white business jacket with a red pencil skirt standing next to a girl with the same color blue hair wearing a red and white vertical striped polo shirt and a pair of black pants. They exit the elevator, the woman has a white stick – Alya realizes is a probing cane – guiding her and her arm is in the girl’s. The woman seethes saying something rapidly in another language.


Alya locks eyes with the girl and they both look away at the same time.


Alya turns to her mother as the woman releases her hold. “What are you in the mood for eating?”


“Anything but French cuisine. I cook it all day, I’d rather not eat it when I don’t have to. And I don’t trust half the professional chefs in this part of the city.” Before they can leave the hotel someone screams.


Alya and Marlena stop walking and turn around to see the woman with the probing cane being slowly enveloped in a thick, purple, bubbly ooze. The girl who was beside her is on the floor a few centimetres away looking at the woman in horror.


Alya rushes over to the girl and helps her up. “What happened?”


“One second she was ranting about the mayor and the next I think I saw a butterfly fly into her probing cane.”


The ooze dissipates slowly and upward revealing a pair of knee-high steel-toe buckled boots, then a pair of black pants that tuck into the boots, a sword sheathed to the right of the belt, black body armor with a cape attached, and finally a head covered with a black helmet.


A butterfly mask outline appears over the eye part of the helmet as the woman unsheathes her sword and raises her masked head. “The wicked must be punished.” Oh shit, that’s Monarque’s symbol! Alya remembers seeing it at the hypermarket the other day over Nora and the twins’ eyes, and feeling it form over her own eyes. The girl Alya is holding onto says something in another language that has the helmet turning in her direction. Probably the same language the woman was ranting in earlier. “No need to worry, my darling daughter—” The woman replies in French, “my mind is my own. My sole purpose is to eliminate transgressors from existence. Cleanse the world. I. Am. Balance.” Then she disappears in a flurry of smoke.


Alya gapes because holy shit she should’ve recorded that!

“Alya!” Marlena calls gesturing her over. Alya helps the girl up and they run over to Marlena.


🐞 & 🐈


Tommy wakes up to something repeatedly poking him in the face. “Wow. You are one light sleeper.” Tikki flies in his line of sight, “we have an akuma loose at Le Grand Paris.”


“Isn’t that where the mayor lives?” Tikki nods. Tommy yawns then sits up. “Why are we planning on doing something about this? They’re probably going after the mayor.”


“We’re not doing this for the target, whether it's the mayor or not... and it mostly like is the mayor.” Tikki shakes his head, “regardless, we’re doing this for those who’ll undoubtedly get caught up in the destruction. Plus, individuals possessed by akumas are victims. We’re saving them too.”


“Not everyone deserves to be saved.” Tommy yawns again, “how long was I out?”


“Three hours. If only there was some other way to deal with the akumas, you could’ve rested a bit longer but you’re the only one who can purify them.” He sighs, “if you don’t purify an akuma and they’re released from the body they’re possessing, they’ll multiply and infect hundreds of people at a time. Much like what went on in the hypermarket the other day.”


“Did you get any sleep? You’ve been up right alongside me.”


“I did get some sleep, yes, thank you for asking. We need to eat something before we transform.” Tikki picks up the cloche on the side table, that most definitely was not there when Tommy laid down on the bed, and brings it over to him. Setting the cloche down beside Tommy, Tikki opens it revealing a pair of finger sandwiches. “How cute!” Tommy raises an eyebrow at him, “you probably shouldn’t ingest anymore sugar.”


“Fine.” He picks up the sandwich and eats it. Tikki happily eats his sandwich as he floats in the air.


When they both finish eating they stare at each other, “I feel like I forgot to tell you something. Did I tell you about the lucky charm?”


“Uh... no? Also... what are you the... kwami of? The cat-boy said he has the power of destruction.”


“Cat... oh.” Tikki makes a face, “that’s Plagg, kwami of destruction. She is the—” Tikki sighs heavily, “‘yin to my yang,’ quite literally. I am the kwami of creation. That’s why Monarque wants our Miraculouses in particular. Every kwami has their match. And when you put those two together... along with several other magical steps I’m uncertain of, you can make your greatest desire come true. Or at least that’s what I believe can happen? Sages withheld the wish information from kwamis.”


“So... if I just straight up steal my cat teammate’s Miraculous I can make a wish come true?”


“In a manner of speaking?”


“Huh. I guess Fù picked right when he took a shot in the dark. There isn’t anything I really want and I certainly don’t have some big great desire in the grand scheme of things.” He hums, “what would you wish for?”

“Me? I-I don’t know. I guess I don’t have any big desire in the grand scheme of things either. Not that I think kwamis can wish for anything. Oh! But that did remind me that we need to get you some identification.”


“That is not a good idea. What if someone sees my name and turns me in? I’m a fugitive and a foreigner.”


“I’m the kwami of creation, remember? I can make you whatever form of identification required.”


“Bitching. Gotta clean up for my photo after we deal with this akuma. Spots on, Tikki.”


🐞 & 🐈


Billy did not realize his suit had some sort of Power Rangers morpher hanging off the left side of his suit. Curiosity may have killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back, as they say. When he picked up the hexagonal device, he was met with static that made him—thanks to his hypersensitive cat ears—cringe. When the static fizzled out and brought nothingness, Billy noticed there were little different colored triangles in the hexagon. Each with an unrecognizable symbol on them. Billy figured this must be a communication device for the team. The red space was the ladybug, the turquoise was the snake, the green was the turtle, the black was him – the cat, the grey was the mouse, and lastly the brown was the horse. (Why his space was there was... interesting. It might be one of those things where he could see himself in the chat.)


Frowning, he hit all the buttons. He came home from the eye doctor to discover no change in his eyesight. Which was a bit of a relief because they got worse two years ago; hence his need for glasses full-time rather than just reading.


When he got home, he barely had time to take off his shoes before he overheard a newscaster talking about a helmeted sword-slinging assassin searching for the mayor and his wife the International Queen of Fashion: Audrey Durand Bourgeois. Billy wasn’t as avid a follower of Audrey Bourgeois as he was Janet van Dyne, but he’d be pretty bummed if some powered-up assassin killed her. Her backpack collection was the sole reason Billy even knew of her existence.


Instead of trying to sneak out of the house and creating all sorts of problems for himself when his family couldn’t find him when they ventured to his room, he simply (and calmly) told his parents he was going to get some extra reading done at the library before school started. As it was in the opposite direction of Le Grand Paris, they let him go and told him to be extra careful.


Honestly, he didn’t think they’d let him, but hey. He transformed in an alley – which, cliché. Then noticed the morpher thing on his belt. But it wasn’t in the front like the Power Rangers morphers and it didn’t have that cool animal coin in the centre. Come to think of it, it also reminded him of a digi-vice.


The green triangle lights up before the turtle appears in the space. “We have a communication device? This wasn’t on my suit the other day.”


Soon everyone else’s spaces light up and they appeared on the screen.


“Is anyone near Le Grand Paris?” The mouse—correction: Southpaw—asks. “I’m there but I can’t do the whole evildoer fighting pose by myself.”


“I can be there in a second.” The horse says.


“I say we all enter at once.” Billy suggests, “we can pose—” Southpaw pumps her fist in the air, “and take care of the akuma. Or at least assess the situation.”


“That alright with you, Bug?” Turtle-girl asks.


Ladybug-boy groans, “this again? I told you, I’m not ‘lead’ material.”


“Red.” Southpaw reminds him.


“Let’s take turns leading and see who is the best at it?” The horse recommends. “We’ll put the Bug first—” Ladybug-boy groans, “then take it from there.”


Everyone stares at the ladybug expectantly and he sighs heavily. “Like Cat said, meet up at Le Grand Paris. But let’s do the roof.” Everyone nods then their spaces glow before their screens fade.


Southpaw is on the roof looking at her communication device.


“Yo!” Billy greets. And damn, he needs to come up with a name.


“Yo. These devices have wi-fi. I’m looking at what’s going on inside. ‘Balance’ is sparing the pure of heart, turning them into her minions and she’s smoting? Smitting.... no, smiting! She’s smiting everyone else.”


Billy massages his temples then startles when four consecutive thumps land on the roof.


A scream has the six of them looking down and to the left where a blonde is staring at them for several seconds before her eyes roll in the back of her head and she faints. They stare at her for several seconds longer before turning back to one another.


“Time to huddle.” Ladybug-boy says and the team complies. “Does anyone know what the hell is going on?”


“I do!” Southpaw raises a hand, “the akuma is called ‘Balance’ and she’s knocking out whoever she thinks is ‘bad’ and turning whoever she thinks is good into her posse who are also knocking out ‘bad’ guys.”


“Thanks for that.” Southpaw beams. “Let’s go make ourselves a dramatic entrance~”


One by one, they hop down the roof and onto the penthouse suit’s balcony side-stepping over the unconscious blonde. The turtle-girl picks her up and puts her in a chair, putting her head on the table before they walk in the suit and go to the elevator.


Once the elevator opens on the ground floor they jump out the elevator with their weapons at the ready.


The akuma clad in all black and wearing a motorcycle helmet, slightly turn their helmeted head toward them. When they turn around fully, the butterfly mask outline is over the eye part of the helmet. The akuma grips their sword. “Minions, deal with the intruders then find my daughter.” The minions – all also clad in all black though missing the cape – charge in their direction.


“W-What do we do!?” Southpaw yells.


“Subdue them.” Turtle-girl replies.


“What does that mean?!”


“It means knock ‘em out but don’t go super crazy about it.” The horse answers.


Southpaw trips up a minion with her jumprope and they crash into another minion on their way to the ground. She grimaces, “t-too much?”


“Not at all.” The horse replies with a smirk.


Southpaw brings her hands together, “I got this. Go after Balance.” Before anyone can question she starts jumpropping then in a flash of grey she splits in two, then she splits again, and again, and again only she begins decreasing in size with every other split. By the time she’s done she’s half her normal size with a dozen copies. With a battle cry, they begin tripping up all the minions.


“Guess her power is multiplying...” The horse mutters.


She’s getting away!” Someone yells.


“Fuck me.” Ladybug-boy sighs as the akuma disappears in a plume of smoke, “Let’s split up, gang. Turtle, Cat, you’re with me. The rest of you help Southpaw.” Admittedly, Billy’s a bit surprised they follow the order without complaint. They did unanimously elect him as leader, so why wouldn’t they follow his order.


They run down the corridor after the akuma. “What’s the plan?” Turtle-girl asks.


“‘Plan?’ I’m making this up as I go a—” He gasps then stops running causing Billy and the turtle to do the same. “I gotta use my lucky charm.” The yo-yo begins glowing pink then expands into a red and black polkadotted stick of some kind in his hands. “W-What... the fuck... is this?”


“A weirdly shaped crowbar?” The turtle guesses.


“No.” Billy shakes his head, “that’s a steering wheel lock.”


A—What the fuck am I supposed to do with a steering wheel lock? I don’t have a steering wheel!”


“Maybe not but the akuma is dressed like a biker.”


Ladybug-boy looks up from the steering wheel lock patting the Turtle on the shoulder, “you’re better leader material than me.”


“Oh. While we’re on the subject, I’ve decided to go with the name Aegis.”


Billy and the ladybug exchange a questioning glance and the latter shrugs. “What does that mean?” Billy asks.


“The long and short of it is: protection. Which is what my power stems from.”


Billy’s not-just-for-show cat ears twitch, “I hear something” He starts walking toward the source of the noise and his teammates follow behind him. Inside the fitness centre there is a small door behind the weight rack. Billy opens the door and two girls tumble out of it. And how he managed to hear... whatever he heard on the other side of the door was... astounding.


The orange-haired girl gasps as she gets to her feet, then helps up the shorter blue-haired girl. “Oh my God. Oh my God.” She rambles, “s-superheroes.” She whispers. “Y-You guys must’ve dealt with Monarque at the hypermarket!”


“If you are here to help you should know my maman is... the akuma. The entire ordeal was—” The blue-haired girl frowns, “I’m thinking she was deliberately pissed off so she could transform.”


“Wouldn’t be all that surprising if the mayor was in cahoots with Monarque, he pisses people off all the time. That’s like... gotta give Monarque his pick of the litter, right?” The bespectacled orange-haired says.


“It makes sense.” Billy agrees, “Monarque arrived as the mayor was reelected.”


“Plus...” The orange-haired interrupts, “it’s not like we have much else to go on currently.”


“Unless it’s the opposite...” Turtle-girl says, “and Monarque is against the mayor, hence the appearance coinciding with the mayor’s reelection.”


“Alright.” Ladybug-boy sighs, “we’ll figure it out. You two stick close to Aegis—” He gestures to the turtle.


“Why?” The orange-haired girl asks. “Because she’s a girl?”


“No. Because she’s the one with the protection powers.”


“Oh. I see. My mistake then. What do we call you?”


“My name’s still pending.”


🐞 & 🐈


Château park was where Monarque first showed himself. No akumatization just... a kaleidoscope of butterflies forming into his face, declaring his reign of terror onto the city until he gets the ladybug and cat Miraculouses. Fù would’ve reacted then but it was over before he got the chance to. Next, Monarque hit the hypermarket with a mass akumatization. Now, he’s at Le Grand Paris with just one akuma. He’s sticking to public locations. The kwami of emotion is gonna need a large audience full of emotions to sense and manipulate in order to get stronger.


The five remaining kwamis inch closer to the radio listening to the sudden news broadcast. Witnesses said a tall, blue-haired, blind Asian woman was akumatized upon exiting the hotel’s elevator.

Hopefully, the team is either already there or making their way there. Fù sighs; if only he were able to transform to lend them assistance. The Miraculouses Fù has in circulation will have to do. He senses great power and potential within the team, they just have to trust in themselves and unlock it.

“You say the team should trust in themselves, so you gotta trust in them.” Fluff says. “They may be kids but they’re powerful. I can feel it.” Fluff pats their chest.

Fù nods. “Guardian, what are we gonna do about the ladybug Miraculous wielder? A child all alone in a foreign country? His sleep was so fitful.” Duusu frowns, “I don’t need Nooroo’s ability to decipher feelings to know there’s a lot of loneliness in that one.”


“There is plenty of space for him to stay among us, if he desires. If not, I’m certain we can come up with a solution he can benefit from.”

“I like ‘em!” Xuppu exclaims. The other kwamis nod in agreement. “Hope he decides to stay. Ooh! By the way, are you also going to look for a suitable predecessor? N-Not that I’m saying you should stop doing what you’re doing! They say you never work a day if you do what you love!” The monkey kwami rambles.


“You mean a successor. But yes, I have thought about it, I just have not come across them yet.”

🐞 & 🐈


The akuma was scarily light on her feet. She didn’t even need the minions to give herself the advantage. Apparently, “Balance” could throw their equilibrium outta whack with just the tip of her blade. Naturally, they reconvened.

Ladybug-boy – name still pending – still hadn’t figured out how to use his “lucky charm” that his magical yo-yo turned into a magical steering wheel lock. (Yeah. Alya doesn’t get it either.)


Alya saw the remaining members of the team, and found out they were all animals. Well, she supposes it would be even stranger if only half of them were animals as opposed to all of them.


From what she’s seen: the turtle was easily the most competent team member who could protect herself and others with a bubble shield. The group unanimously picked ladybug-boy as their leader even though he vocalized he didn’t want to be. The mouse was easily the most excitable member and she could multiply herself; which Alya has seen her do... multiple times. The snake was just hanging in the back plucking their harp. (It looked like he was watching their every move but Alya had no idea what his abilities were.) The horse Alya honestly kept losing track of but according to the team she had teleporting powers or something close to that. The cat was using his baton to parry “Balance’s” attacks but she was too quick for him to try and attack.


The eight of them were in Aegis’ shield that “Balance” was starting to wear down.


“Here’s the—what the hell?”


“What is it?” The horse asks.


“You’re... You’re polkadotted.” He looks down at the steering wheel lock in his hands, “so is this...” He raises his head looking around, “and Southpaw.” His giant bug eyes don’t blink at the same time. “I think this—” He hefts the steering wheel lock, “is telling me what to do, sort of.” He gives it to Southpaw, “I need a portal and some mini Southpaws.”


Southpaw beams at him, saluting. “You can count on me.”


“Ready whenever you are, Grey.” The horse says. Southpaw keeps jumproping until Alya can no longer see her.


“I’m thinking while Southpaw dog—mouse piles ‘Balance,’ we either clock the akuma over the head with the steering wheel lock or use it to bind her hands together.”


The horse makes a circle with their horseshoe and a portal appears near her leg. “In you go.” Alya squints to see dozens of miniature Southpaws jumping into the portal. Once that portal closes, she lifts the horseshoe in the air and makes another circle then a different portal appears right over Balance’s head and all the Southpaws fall out of it.


“Get off me, you disgusting creatures!” Balance hisses.


The horse creates another portal and jumps into it. Meanwhile, Aegis pops the shield then frisbee’s her shell shield at Balance hitting her in the stomach. The horse starts drawing multiple circles and her teammates are popping in and out of the portals wailing on Balance. Finally, The Horse forces Balance’s hands apart with the steering wheel lock.


The cat has Balance’s sword in their right hand that glows with this hissing, murky energy and the sword splits in two. Everyone gasps as a butterfly flies out of the sword. Balance falls to her knees and a purple ooze overtakes her body transforming her back into the woman. The steering wheel lock flashes pink before turning back into the yo-yo and zipping right into the ladybug-boy’s arms. “Gotta catch that thing.” He swings the yo-yo, and surprisingly manages to not hit anyone, then the yo-yo’s face somehow becomes a net and scoops up the butterfly before the yo-yo shell covers the net. “Caught it.” There’s a pink line in centre of the yo-yo that ladybug-boy traces, “no more chaos or corruption or whatever from this little one. I release you.” A translucent butterfly flies out of the now opened yo-yo.


Alya scratches her head. Cool, but she really doesn’t know what the hell just went on.


The blue-haired girl helps her mother up, putting the now cracked probing cane in her hand. “I have the worst headache.” She groans. “What a mess. I need to lay down.”


“Do you need assistance with anything?” The snake asks. “You kinda kicked our asses, I bet you’re tired.”


The woman chuckles, “I believe I will take your kind offer, though exhaustion is not my reason. I am in my prime, young one.”

“We’ve noticed.”


The snake waves to the team as he helps the woman and the girl – who nods her thanks at them – leave the hotel.


“Okay, so... what are we calling the team?” Alya asks.


“We’ll... have to get back to you on that one. Guess we’re gonna ‘bug out’ now.”


“I’m Southpaw—” Alya does a double-take because she hadn’t seen her grow. The cat grabs her by the waist, dragging her off as they leave the hotel. “Remember this masked face!”


🐞 & 🐈


“This is Nadja Chamack with a TVi exclusive news break.” The woman pauses, gripping her microphone tight. “One word: superheroes.” She takes a deep breath. “In case you missed them due to being possessed and frothing at the mouth at the Supergalaxy hypermarket, we have footage, grainy footage but footage nonetheless, from Le Grand Paris of six costumed individuals taking down a butterfly possessed woman. This incident, according to the timestamp on the camera, occurred one hour ago. Let’s show the clip.” The woman points to something off-screen then the camera cuts out showing grainy bits of footage from earlier.


Ramone runs a hand down her face but Johnny perks up at the broadcast. “Superheroes.” She mutters. “Why is it always superheroes?”

“What are you complaining about superheroes for? I seem to recall a certain someone having the biggest crush on Storm and Wasp.”


Ramone clears her throat. “They were both powerful women of color who became even more powerful then became superheroes. And it’s not like you didn’t have the same crush on them!”


Johnny shrugs locking his hands behind his head. Ramone could swear she saw an extra bracelet on his wrists but he moves his arms out of her line of sight too quickly for her to confirm. Speaking of which, she needs to blend her bracelet in with her ensemble so it doesn’t look out of place. Jewelry was always Johnny’s thing, not hers. Her jewelry almost always got lost when she went surfing or swimming so she just stopped wearing jewelry altogether. Minus the newly acquired nose ring, they both got to celebrate their fourteenth birthday. Ramone doesn’t care what anyone says, he copied her. He’s been copying her their whole lives with him being born second and all.


“Superheroes...” They turn back to their great-aunt shaking her head, “they didn’t have ‘em running around all willy-nilly in bright tights when we was growing up. Captain America paved the way for all this and they dogged him, moving onto the first shiny white-passing doll they could get their grubby, crooked hands on only to have her turn out defective too.” The woman hums. “You two went to that hypermarket the other day. Were you affected?”

“Yeah...” They both reply then turn to each other with narrowed eyes. Ramone saw Johnny have the butterfly outline over his face, holding onto the afflicted outfit the butterfly entered, but unlike everyone else she passed he was seemingly rooted to the spot. Johnny wasn’t so overcome with emotion that he was sobbing uncontrollably holding onto himself for grounding nor was he ripping apart whatever piece of the store he could reach. They had seen people get instantly affected once the mask appeared over their eyes yet Johnny wasn’t.


The cat and ladybug were too light-skinned to be Johnny and the other two members were female so either Johnny was the snake – who she couldn’t see very well because he was hanging back like he was trying to figure out a puzzle or something – or she’s merely paranoid. But Ramone did not see Johnny when she returned to the spot he was somewhat stuck in nor did she run into him as she ran around the hypermarket.


On the other hand, the cat mentioned his family was in the hypermarket and he (thankfully) hadn’t run into them and they weren’t at the last place he saw them. So she’s back to the paranoia angle. This is Johnny, her twin. They’ve spent eight-and-a-half-months in the same womb, even if they were in separate eggs. If he had superpowers he’d tell her. Maybe not in front of the great-aunt they didn’t know they had until their grandparents’ death last year but he’d tell her. Because she’d... tell him. Aw fuck.

They continue to stare at each other suspiciously as their great-aunt continues to shake her head at the news broadcast. Which one of them will crack first?


🐞 & 🐈


In hindsight, borrowing a book on magic and a book on how-to use particular weapons might not have been the smartest thing Billy did.


However, in retrospect, there are lots of non-smart things William Kaplan will confess to doing.


The day after the akuma attack, after having one weird ass dream, Plagg told him he could train with his powers while sleeping. Plagg also pointed out if the ladybug miraculous wielder or any other member of the team were asleep at the same time they could train together.


“Sugarcube’s real insistent on the training.” Plagg told him, “ladybug miraculous holders that don’t take their training seriously usually end up dying pretty young. You know, I don’t think Sugarcube ever had a boy ladybug before.”


Never in the history of history? You said kwamis existed since existence began!”

“And each time Sugarcube would be paired with a girl. If he wasn’t with a girl, he was paired up by people who weren’t defined by a single gender, or he’d occasionally get individuals outside the heteronormative binary but not once before now has he been with anyone who identifies as male.”


“You keep saying ‘he.’ If this ‘Sugarcube’ is a boy, why wouldn’t he be paired with a boy?” Plagg shrugs. “How do we even know ‘ladybug boy’ is a boy?”


Plagg shrugs again, “we don’t, and we won’t know unless they tell us.” Billy hums, “kwamis are monogendered – I suppose you could say, I don’t think I mentioned that before...” Billy shakes his head, “right. Knew I forgot something. Being around humans for so long kwamis have specific gender pronouns we’d like to be addressed as.”


“What are your pronouns?”


“They and also she.” Plagg gives him a toothy grin, “now that we got that out of the way, focus on harnessing that reverse luck energy.”


“‘Reverse’ luck? That’s what we’re calling it?” The upside of the sleep training was Plagg got to walk him through everything. The downside was he didn’t have the ring as foci for his magic. (Not that he knew how to use the damn thing so maybe it wasn’t too big of a downside.)


“My Kit’s get a little... catty when I call it ‘bad’ luck. So it’s reverse luck. Much how destruction is the antithesis of creation.”


“So I have powers of destruction and bad luck?”


“They go hand-in-hand. You have powers over bad luck, doesn’t necessarily mean it’s your bad luck.”

Billy facepalms. “Then I’m essentially a walking hex.” He pauses, “hex...? Hey, I think I found my superhero name!”


“You want to be known... as ‘Hex?’” Billy nods enthusiastically. “I like it. Double meaning.” Plagg gasps, “looks like someone’s trying to wake you up.”


“Wait, where are you?”


“Hidden and safe. Focus on waking up.”


Billy’s eyes flutter open. His face is smushed into the pillow and he hadn’t taken his glasses off. He forgot he fell asleep on his stomach. Now that he’s thinking more about it, he doesn’t remember falling asleep to begin with. Billy turns his head to the left to see his father standing there. “Are you alright?”


Yawning, Billy sits up. “Guess I was tired.” He adjusts his glasses, making sure he hadn’t broken another pair this year.


“You know you can’t nap in school, right?”


“Not even during lunch?”


Jeff chuckles, “you got me there. Just got an e-mail from the school stating the first day is also picture day for your student identification cards.” Billy grimaces. He’s notoriously unphotogenic no matter what country he’s taking pictures in. He might even be cursed. Maybe that’s why he was given the bad luck Miraculous?


“Thanks for the heads up.” Billy takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes.


“You sure you’re okay?” Billy nods still rubbing his eyes. “What did you pick up in the library?”


The brunet freezes, “huh?”


“You were in a rush to head to the library. Must’ve been important, right? You weren’t near the hotel where that ‘akuma’ was, were you?” Billy shakes his head.


His father is looking at him with such an innocent, interested look. “Puberty.” He squeaks out then immediately mentally facepalms.

Oh!” Jeff blinks, “you...oh. You’re hitting—You hit puberty? T-That’s gre—”


“I don’t know if I did! I mean, I don’t think I did. I just want to ...be prepared.” How could anyone expect such a disaster to be a superhero? If the ground could magically swallow him whole now that would be great.


“Okay. You don’t need a book for that. I can answer any questions—” He pauses, “okay... nearly any question. You know what? The book might be a good idea but if you need any clarification on anything let me know.”


“Will do.”


As his father leaves the room, Billy bangs his head on the desk. Plagg flies over to him. “Kit, that was painful to watch.”


“It was painful to say.” Billy mutters. With a heavy, sigh he reluctantly lifts his head. “I don’t do so well being put on the spot. I freeze up and my mind turns to mush.” He stares at Plagg, “I don’t suppose you can help with that, can you?”

“If you are asking me if I can magically make you no longer awkward, the answer is no. That is... outside my realm of expertise. A power all its own I am unfamiliar with, and tampering with it will cause ill-advised side effects. I mean, I’ve been with awkward humans before, never with one so aware of their awkwardness though.”

Sighing, Billy locks his hand behind his head. “School is gonna be a disaster.”


“Maybe but we’ll get to navigate it together.” Plagg grins toothily at him. “Just a heads up though? I haven’t been around teenagers in a while so... my advice may not be the best... decade wise.”


“Good to know.”


“Ah.” Plagg waves him off, “it’ll be fine.” Billy raises an eyebrow, “what’s with the look? Would a face this precious lie?” Plagg points at her face beaming.


“Yes it would, without remorse.”


“Alright it would, but not to you! I want what’s best for my Kit.” Plagg pats him on the head. “Let’s cause some trouble in the best of ways~ And the best way to do that is to establish a look.” Plagg flies over to Billy’s closet.


“Huh?”


“You know... how you want to be perceived.”


“I don’t wanna be perceived at all, if I can help it.”


“Unfortunately, Kit, you can’t. That’s why you need a look. A style all your own that people who pass by you will say ah I get that. You know?”


“Honestly? No.”


“Well, what do you usually wear to school?”


“When I wasn’t in uniform I wore character shirts and jeans.”


“Uh-huh and how has that been working out for you?”


“Considering the amount of bullying I’ve endured all eight years of schooling, I’d have to say not well.”


“Then let’s change up your look!” Plagg excitedly starts throwing clothing out of the closet.


“Wait, wait! What are you doing?”


“Reorganizing your closet to reestablish your style! You weren’t kidding about the character shirts. Superheroes, video game characters, cartoon characters. There isn’t a plain t-shirt in this closet. That’s it. We need an emergency shopping trip.”


“We wha—?”


Plagg flies over to Billy’s face, “shopping. Haven’t you heard the expression ‘clothes make the man?’ Unfortunately, in my experience, humans are incredibly judgy and they box you in a personality solely based on their first glance of you. It’s only when you build friendships and form bonds when the box expands.”


“But I don’t care what I’m perceived as.”


“Which is great! You’re gonna need that self-confidence. I don’t think school stopped being hell in the past century or so. Your it’s whatever attitude strategy hasn’t worked out for you if you keep on getting bullied, and ignoring everyone around you isn’t gonna prevent bullying either. Neither will trying to fade in the background. Some people just get off on making others feel bad simply because they can, they’re sadists who thrive on making others miserable, or their inferiority complex wants them to make everyone feel worse than they do.”


“Then what do I do?”


“That is the million euro question, isn’t it? Again, in my experience, you get completely ignored if you are average.” Billy blinks at Plagg. “People who do shit great are acknowledged and revered. People who do shit bad are ridiculed and harassed. If you’re not too good or too bad, history has a way of overlooking you.”


“So all I have to do is not be the worst or most obviously dressed kid in the school?”


“Pretty much.”


“That sounds so shitty but you have a point. In my second to last school, we had to wear uniforms so there wasn’t a lot of bullying until the school laxed on the rules and allowed kids to ‘customize’ their uniforms with their own personal touch. They quickly revoked that rule when students began getting bullied for adding comic or video game character pins to their clothing and backpacks. I started realizing the way I was dressing or the lack of emphasis I put into my clothing was getting me picked on but they made me feel comfortable and I was able to withstand the bullying. Or I thought I was able to withstand it.”


“Then let’s find you comfortable average clothing. Something that doesn’t drastically change you but makes people not bother noticing the kid in the Captain Britain sweater.”


Billy resists the urge to look down at his sweater. “Captain Britain is a national treasure!”


Please. The man walks around in tights of the UK flag. La~me. If you want a superhero to devote yourself to it’s gotta be Black Panther.”


Billy gives the kwami a deadpan stare. “Really?”


“Yeah. All cat superheroes are awesome by design and by default! But based on the comics of him I read?” Plagg does the chef’s kiss gesture, “best of the best.” She nods to herself, “I also like Black Cat.”


“Of course you do. I’m guessing Jungle Girl and Tigra are at the top of your list as well?”


“I don’t like Jungle Girl but yes to Tigra. Now, we want comfort and style. Oversized hoodies but not too big and fleece.” Plagg sighs in content, “you need some fleece. If not for yourself then do it for me. I love nestling in soft clothes.”


“Right... I’m gonna need to have you around me all the time because of Monarque. You should have a say in what clothing you get nestled in.”


“Thanks. Now, I need your measurements. Stand up then stay still.”


“Why do you need my measurements?”


“We’re gonna make you some new clothes.”


Make?”


“Kit, I’m magic. I can conjure clothing.”


“This I gotta see.”


🐞 & 🐈


“I’m telling you they all jumped on the balcony! Came out of nowhere!” Chloé excitedly claims. “I fainted and one of them put me in a chair. I wish I would’ve seen them in action but the video clip wouldn’t play.” She sighs.


“Superheroes sound as utterly ridiculous as this clown hiding in the shadows sending butterflies after people. Butterflies! One of the world’s most beautiful creatures... being used for evil! It’s sickening. This whole thing is just—” Audrey trails off with a sigh. “Still not as bad as New York. You can’t go to a hot dog cart without dodging some supervillain’s robotic army’s death beam or what have you.”


André stares at his wife in surprise, “you went to a hot dog cart?”


“Naturally. I’m a native New Yorker, André. My parents knew the hot dog vendors by name.”


“Your parents don’t remember my name!”


“They don’t? Huh. Odd.” André massages his temples. Why is he surprised? Audrey’s parents hate him. “Anyway, this whole superhero bullshit is ridiculous! Just... utterly ridiculous! Why did Paris decide to have superheroes and supervillains now? I spent twenty-three years of my life dodging supervillain attacks just going to school! Beauty School was just the worst! Half the classes were canceled on a semi-regular basis because Doctor Doom wanted to throw a tantrum! And that was before online classes were a thing! They had to put our classes in a safehouse bunker when alien attacks started up in the late 90s. I’ve never—I swear it’s like this shit follows me around!”

“Were there supervillains in Italy?”

“Yes!” Chloé says excitedly. “I saw Knightowl and Sparrow!”

André nods slowly then glances at Audrey. “They’re superheroes from New York. I’m guessing they were on vacation?” Audrey gives a one-shoulder shrug, “Red Rooster was there too. Then again, it was Fashion Week in Milan when we saw them, so I’m not surprised superheroes turned out. Janet van Dyne never stopped doing fashion when she was a superhero and now she’s President of the United States. She was the Queen Bee in beauty school—”

Chloé screams, “you never told me you knew Janet van Dyne! I love her!”


“You—Is that why you’re so obsessed with stripes?”

“Wasp has such a perfect outfit!” Chloé sighs dreamily. “Janet van Dyne is the greatest fashion designer ever.”

“You know I’m a fashion designer too, right?”


“Y-Yes?” Audrey stares at her daughter who plays with her ponytail, avoiding eye contact.

“Dinner is served, Mme. Bourgeois. Courtesy of Chef Césaire.” Their butler announces rolling a tray with several cloches on it over to the kitchen table.


Audrey opens her mouth then shuts it. “I see. I don’t mind conceding to Janet van Dyne and I wouldn’t say we were on the best of terms, in case you were hoping for an autograph or something.” Chloé sighs. The butler puts a large cloche in front of her. “Thank you.” He nods, then gives André his cloche. “If you did one thing well, André, it was hiring Marlena Césaire. Can you imagine if Hyatt Regency Paris Étoile grabbed her? We’d have to go out of business! There’d be no way we could compete!”


“I’m surprised someone as utterly exceptional as her isn’t running her own restaurant somewhere—” André and Audrey pause then stare at Chloé who lifts her own cloche, not noticing their stares of bewilderment. “I also don’t understand how that... pest could be her daughter.” The blonde scoffs.


“You’ve been having problems, Princess? Why haven’t you said anything?”


“I’m not having ‘problems,’ Papa. I’m having a problem. Singular. And it’s something I can handle. Don’t you worry.”


“That’s my girl. Deal with this pest problem swiftly.” Chloé beams at Audrey. “Wait.” Audrey’s eyebrows furrow, “isn’t Marlena Césaire’s daughter an amateur kickboxer? I... believe in you, Chloé, I truly do but don’t do anything foolish like picking a fight with someone who gets paid to fight. You don’t want to have rhinoplasty. Not the safest of surgeries. You can ask your aunt. Her nose—” Audrey brings her hands apart in the shape of a circle. “It was a mess.”


Chloé shakes her head, “no. I wouldn’t mess with Anansi, maman. Please. I have common sense. It’s her other, utterly irrelevant daughter.”

André puts a finger to his lip, “other daughter... other daughter...” He gasps, “I knew those were devil children! What have those little monsters done to you!?”


“What? What little monsters?”


“Marlena’s twin daughters! The two little devils that smugly utterly destroyed the lobby during career day? The things I saw in the bathroom I cannot un-see!” Audrey and Chloé exchange a concerned glance.


“Wait, no. It’s not them. Ah. Ha! That just proves how irrelevant she is.” Chloé pumps her fist in the air as her parents stare at each other in confusion.


🐞 & 🐈


“Spots off.” The suit dematerializes from the boots up until Tikki barrel rolls out of his left earring. “You sure about this?”


Beaming, Tikki nods. Tommy eyes the kwami suspiciously. “Come on! What do you have to lose? You’re in a new city. A fresh start! Superpowers! Plus, Master Fù will need some help around the comic book shop once school starts up. Speaking of which—”


“Nope. I’m not going to school. I stopped in fifth grade.” Tikki taps his mouth humming. “But I will pretty myself up for my id photo.” Tommy takes a deep breath then tries to be as inconspicuous as one can exiting an alley then walks into the comic book store. If nothing else, he left his backpack here.


Tommy slips inside the store but the damn door chime which Tommy hadn’t noticed sounds like some kind of laser, alerts people of his presence. People stop what they’re doing and stare at the door for about a second or two when they notice him then resume what they’re doing.


Tommy heads to the cash register but it’s empty. He looks around the store from where he’s standing but doesn’t see Fù. Curiously, he decides to check the whole shop. There is quite the collection for such a small shop. Tommy freezes, then rushes over to pick up the comic with a ladybug hero on the cover. Their outfit is so much simpler than Tommy’s. It’s simply a plain red and black polkadotted outfit throughout. No wings, no antennas. Their hair is black held up in a high ponytail with a red ribbon that looks like a pair of ladybug wings. The comic cover simply says Ladybug.


“That one—” Tommy jumps at Fù’s voice, “is said to be based off a true story.” He narrows his eyes at the smiling man.


“You don’t say.”


“If you have time, there is something I would like to discuss with you.”


“I’ve got nothing but time.”


“Wonderful. We close in an hour.” The Sailor Moon clock atop the back shelf reads 6:24pm.


Tommy busies himself with reading the back cover of everything that sounds interesting and at precisely 7:30pm Fù rings up his last customer closing the shop.


As he locks up the shop, he rapidly moves his hands around and the top lock pulses then the overhead lights shut off.


He gestures for Tommy to enter the dining area and the teen does. “Tea?”


“Uh, not yet. Why did you give me this Miraculous?”

“You were there.”


“Are you serious? That’s the worst reason I’ve ever heard to give someone the kind of power you gave me!”


“And just what kind of power did I give you?”


Tommy gestures to Tikki sitting on his left shoulder. “The power to run around the city in elastane!”


“Elastane is quite the durable material.”


“It—” Tommy shakes his head, “that’s not the point! You’re telling me you gave a kid you saw in a prison jumpsuit the power to create things out of thin air because he was there!?”


“Is it truly that surprising?” Tommy gapes at him. “Listen, Thomas, the world doesn’t always make sense. I speak from experience on that front...” He mutters. then clears his throat. “The gist of the situation is: I have limited foresight abilities. I saw a worthy ladybug Miraculous wielder with green eyes at the hypermarket and I acted accordingly. Do you have any idea how uncommon green eyes are? Because I did not before last week. Three percent of people in the world – the whole world – naturally have green eyes.”


Tommy and Tikki both share a glance then the latter shrugs. “So I have green eyes, that doesn’t make me ‘worthy.’”

“No, it doesn’t. Worthiness is something you prove. I have spent my entire life studying the human spirit and believe me when I tell you, your spirit is strong. Honorable. Genuine. Untamed. You have something in you I have not seen in quite some time. Your soul is a good match with Tikki’s.”


Beaming, Tikki nuzzles Tommy’s cheek. The teen groans, “I just knew you were gonna pull some ‘hero within’ shit like this.”


“You have foresight abilities as well then?” Tommy scowls. “Have you given any thought to your living situation?”


“What living situation?”


“Exactly.”

Chapter 3: an ordinary first day

Summary:

the first day of school at Collège François Düpont turns out to be anything but... ordinary for the new heroes’ “mild-mannered” alter-egos

Notes:

Kwamis refer to their partner’s friends and family members via animal equivalent name to their relation, as every kwami calls their partner their “insert baby animal name”

Chapter Text

Plagg’s ears twitch when an obnoxious noise filters through the bedroom waking her up. Yawning, Plagg sits up. Looking to the left, Plagg sees her Kit has his face smushed in the pillow and there may or may not be a small puddle of drool leaking out of his opened mouth.

He really is a sight.


Plagg couldn’t be prouder.

When the bedroom door opens, Plagg flies under the sheet. The queen enters the bedroom and expertly shuts off the obnoxious blaring from the computer desk. With two curious younger siblings and two very interactive parents, there have been numerous close calls for Plagg being seen around the house. Not that Plagg cares much about being seen by her Kit’s clowder. The Guardian, however, would have Plagg’s whiskers if she got discovered and it added strain onto her Intended who is still learning the ropes. It’s only been about two weeks since they’ve been together and they’ve only taken on – what? – three akuma attacks?


The most recent being a baby that got transformed, mages only know why! [Plagg doesn’t think the infant was the intended target but they were akumatized all-the-same.] Rather than fight, the team worked together to pacify the akuma by putting on a puppet show for them.

For such a young group of Miraculous users [one of, if not the, youngest group Plagg’s ever been part of] who know next to nothing about their powers and absolutely nothing about one another, they are a very solid, quick-thinking team.


In the history of history, Plagg has never seen an akuma be laughed out of a body.

Then again, Plagg has also never seen an infant akumatized.


“Morning Sweetheart!” Rebecca kisses her eldest on the forehead, moving some hair out of his face. “The twins are helping your papa make breakfast.”


The brunette gently shakes the teen still in bed until he mumbles out something incoherent.


Rebecca chuckles, “uh-huh. Sure you’re awake—”


There’s a loud crash. “Ma!” The twins simultaneously scream.


“Just a—”


The fire alarm goes off. “Rebecca!” Jeff wails.


“Oh for crying out loud! How many times have I told you two to not fight in the kitchen!” Plagg watches the queen leave in a huff, then floats out from under the sheet and gently pats Billy on the face.


“C’mon Kit, get up. You don’t want to be that stereotype of the new kid late on the first day.” Billy yawns then slowly sits up. “Oh good. I wasn’t above tickling you awake.” Plagg stares at the teen, then pats him on the face again, “don’t fall asleep sitting up.”

“Wha—?” Billy slowly opens his eyes, “I—Is something burning?”


“You have two eight-year-olds in the kitchen.” Is the response. Billy gets out of bed but his right leg gets caught in the sheet and he falls on the floor. Plagg grimaces then flies over to him. “Are you okay, Kit?”


“I think so.” Plagg flies over to the sheet and unwraps it from Billy’s ankle. “Tha—I don’t think my ankle is supposed to bend inward.”


“It isn’t. I can try to fix it.” Billy nods.


“Are you—” He gasps then bites his lip to muffle his scream, “why didn’t you give me some kind of warning?” He grits out.


“I did. I told you I was gonna try and fix it and I fixed it.”


“That is not a warning.” Billy hisses, “that... that’s a warning of a warning.” He gingerly gets up, “injuring myself before the damn school day even begins. That’s such a cliché. I’ve watched way too many cartoons and school serials to be making these rookie mistakes.” He takes a deep breath. “No.” He shakes his head, “can’t think like that. Television experiences are not universal.”


Plagg pats him on the shoulder, “you got this. Let’s crush this first day. Put it in the books. Some other kind of pep talk.”


Billy pets Plagg’s head, “thanks, Plagg. I needed some other kind of pep talk.” The kwami beams at him.


Once he’s done showering and getting dressed, Billy gathers up his schoolbag. He and Plagg came to an agreement ...of sorts regarding Billy’s current wardrobe. While Plagg did conjure up some clothing, Jeff took the kids back to school clothes shopping over the weekend and Billy picked up things that his father looked at questioningly but never voiced his concern. It was so very tempting to fall back into old habits, especially with the new line of X-Men themed clothing on the window display, but he (reluctantly) resisted; though he did pick up that yellow and brown Anansi hooded sweatshirt with the little spider legs on the hood.


Billy’s wearing a plain dark green hooded sweatshirt about a size bigger than him but not big enough that it engulfs him. His jeans are light blue and also just a smidge bigger than his size.


He carefully put his rings (he bought a few more) on his fingers making sure his Miraculous doesn’t look completely out of place on his hand. He’s still not a ring fan but it completes “his look.” Plagg also suggested getting his ears pierced rather urgently but when Billy asked why, Plagg merely stated it was for aesthetic. Billy wasn’t entirely convinced but he is a fan of the tiny silver spider earrings. Having just done his ears yesterday, they are a bit tender.


“How do you feel?”


Billy stares at his closed bedroom door, particularly the Scarlet Witch poster staring back at him, then adjusts his glasses. “Like I’m lining up in front of a firing squad. No amount of prep or pep talks are gonna make me not feel like I wanna puke.”

“Lemon helps with nausea. Also, a daily recommended dose of Plagg.” The kwami pats herself on the chest, then pats Billy on the shoulder, “we got this, remember? You’ve got Plagg on your side.”

Billy takes a deep breath, “right. You’re so right. It’s not just me, I’ve got you and we got this.” Plagg nods enthusiastically. “I... just won’t be able to talk to you much if I’m trying to stay invisible. This staying under the radar advice really would’ve helped in primary school.” With a sigh, Billy opens the bedroom door then heads to the kitchen.


🐈 & 🐞


“I like the purple.” Wayzz says fluffing up Ramone’s afro. Her kwami assured her that her change in hair color would not affect her transformation look. Which was a huge relief because Ramone colored her hair every few months or so, depending on how she felt. She was in a purple kind of mood so she dyed her hair like a lavenderish color – or she tried to but the blue she had in before was too dark and she – like a novice – forgot to bleach her hair. She’s lucky it came out purple at all.


Ramone puts on some reddish purple lipgloss, debating on whether or not to have on grey eyeshadow or black. Johnny usually does her makeup, perks of having a twin, but Wayzz offered to help.


The kwami puts the grey on her left eye and the black on her right, “well?”


“Definitely the grey.” Wayzz nods in agreement, carefully applying the makeup remover to her eye. “Johnny might ask how I managed to do my eyes without messing ‘em up.”


“Tell him you got lucky.” Ramone stares at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.


“And both my eyes being perfect?”


“You got extra lucky?” Ramone gives Wayzz a flat look, “you spent the past two weeks practicing?”

There’s a knock on the bathroom door, “Mona, you two have to take the metro to school.”


“I know, Tante Cam, I’m almost done. Just fixing up my makeup.”

“You are already a beautiful, beautiful girl, Mona. You don’t need to put on a pound of makeup.”


“I just have on eyeshadow... or is it eyeliner. I could never remember which is which.” She glances at Wayzz who shrugs. “I’m not... I’ll just show you.” Wayzz flies into the makeup bag as Ramone opens the door. Her great-aunt is on the other side of the door gently putting her hand under Ramone’s chin.


“Subtle. I like it. And I love the hair. I don’t know why your brother went the bald route.”


“It’s more of a fade.”


“Honey, it’s bald. You can color all the feathers of a peacock brown but you wouldn’t call it a turkey.”


“...What?”


“Never mind.” She lets go of Ramone’s face, “looking at you now...” She clears her throat, “let me check on your brother.” With a sigh, she walks off.


Ramone frowns but heads back over to the counter. After their mother’s death, their maternal grandmother took care of them with her wife as the five of them were already living together. For homophobic and transphobic reasons, her grandmother was estranged from the rest of her family. Having met them at their mother’s funeral, Ramone understood why. Those assholes – at a fucking funeral – continuously called their relative by her deadname and using the wrong pronoun when addressing or mentioning her.


When Ramone snapped at them, they “blamed it on the grief” and brushed it off.


Naturally, they didn’t show up for their grandmother’s funeral – which was a godsend. However, they cheaply and tackily addressed letters to someone who hasn’t existed for over twenty-five years.


They flew in for the will reading, because they were specially requested. Because Ramone and Johnny had the greatest grandmother on the planet, she flew them all in to flip them the bird and tell them – in semi-person – that they weren’t getting a cent out of her for being such hateful piles of scum and everything she owned was left to the twins.


Which lead to everyone trying to play caretaker, but according to their grandmother’s will her wife’s older sister, Camilla, was their new legal guardian. The family took it to court and were pretty much laughed out of the courthouse.


Then they went back to being hateful and talking shit about their late relative.


You’d think that would be the end of it but they kept trying to contact the twins to get some money but Camilla would answer, pretend to be sympathetic, then tell them no when they asked for a handout and would hang up on them. Personally, it never got old. It’s been over a year and they’re still calling and getting hung up on. They even put their kids to try and milk sadness points but they’re kids are just as hateful so... it never works in their favor.


It’s as funny as it is sad.


Ramone picks up a pair of gold hoop earrings from her makeup bag and puts them in. A second year at François Düpont. That school is such a fucking headache and she can guaran-damn-tee a handful of akumas are gonna come from there. As a collège, the reasons are endless but Ramone knows for a fact the majority of them will stem from one starting point: Chloé Fucking Bourgeois. Now Ramone has never had the displeasure of crossing the girl’s path last year. François Düpont is a medium-sized school, there will be students you will never know about or see. Having said that, because she’s the mayor’s daughter and apparently never stops reminding people of that fact, the whole school has more or less heard of her – or to be more precise – heard of how awful she is. A mega, ultra brat who uses her father’s position as a conversation stopper.


Principal Damocles not only lacks a backbone but he is an avid, vocal supporter of Mayor Bourgeois, despite the mayor... well being the mayor. It is literally the only reason, at least according to the people who “associate” with the girl, she is even enrolled in public school. The mayor is in control of the school’s funding and his family pours in “additional” funds to the school. With the staff wrapped around her pinky finger, the girl does whatever she wants, and according to her Instagram, youwishyoucouldbeChloéB (that Johnny found by accident), her grades are perfect.


Ramone has to wonder if she gets nauseous having her head so high in the clouds, being so far detached from reality.


If that girl pulled half the shit people spoke of in a place outside her father’s influence, she would’ve got her ass whooped twice over before she could pull out her cellphone to call her father.


But sadly, that girl wasn’t the only student to constantly use their parent’s coattails as a red carpet to sashay around claiming to be great and descendants of greatness. How one school was filled with so many pretentious assholes was mind-boggling.


Ramone grabs her jacket hanging on the door and Wayzz flies into one of the inner pockets.


Johnny is talking to Camilla while he’s tying his shoes in the foyer.


She still wasn’t able to figure out if he has a Miraculous or not. She’s leaning more toward not but something is preventing her from dismissing it entirely. “Wayzz, do you know what the other Miraculouses in the group are?” She whispers.


“Yes but we all have explicit instructions from the Guardian not to disclose that information in case our Intended gets akumatized.”


Ramone hums, “makes sense.”


🐈 & 🐞


Nora parks her motorcycle on the sidewalk. Alya gets off the motorcycle handing her sister the helmet. Nora holds onto her hand. “Aly, I heard you and ma talking.” Alya groans. “If you’re having problems with someone, just point me in their direction.”


“I can handle my own problems, Nora.” Nora scoffs letting Alya’s hand go. “I’m not ten anymore. I’m not gonna tattle on whoever makes me mad. And I don’t need you to come in and beat up everyone who gets on my nerves.”


“I know you’re the middle child so you don’t get it but us oldest siblings? We are, by design, specifically put on the planet to teach and to beat the shit out of everyone who gets on their siblings’ nerves. Because if they’re upset by someone else, we won’t feel right messing with them.” Alya rolls her eyes. “Plus, I’m in the amateur kickboxing league, Als. Gotta get my practice where I can.”


“Sometimes I wonder about you. I seriously do.”


“I just need a name.”


“Forget it. Thanks for the ride. Although now I get why you offered.” Alya runs up the stairs.


“I don’t have school today, I’ll stay here as long as I need to!” The orange-haired teen freezes as she sees students stop what they’re doing and outright gape at her sister. The not-so hushed whispers of people not-so-subtly taking pictures of Anansi and collectively losing their shit. Doesn’t help that Nora is wearing a hooded sweater that surprisingly isn’t of herself yet has her signature colors, and she’s perched on her custom one-in-existence Anansi-themed motorcycle.


Groaning loudly, Alya stomps back down the stairs then over to Nora. “Go. Home.” Nora beams at her.


“What’s wrong, Little Sister?” Alya scowls, “I got nothing but time. You not in the mood for some playful sibling banter is all because of this ‘problem’ you won’t name.”


“I’m not gonna cave.”


Nora’s smile widens, “we’ll see. You’re stubborn, but not more stubborn than me. And like I said? I got nothing but time.” Throwing her hands in the air, Alya storms off up the stairs. “See you at lunch, My Lovely Little Sister Alya! I’ll pick you up from school! We can go to the gym together!”


Before Alya enters the building she hears someone asking her sister for an autograph.


“Good morning Alya~” Lila says with a skip in her step. “I just came back from Venice last night. Fashion Week was a~mazing.”


“Fashion Week? Wasn’t that two weeks ago? In Milan?”


“Yeah. I was in Milan for Fashion Week and went to Venice after. It’s like a two-hour drive so it wasn’t that big of a deal. Had to see my grandparents and whatever.” Alya nods handing her bag to Lila as she bends down to tie her shoe. With a sigh, Lila twirls around. “My host family has the greatest connections~ I mean I miss my mamma, no doubt, but jetsetting on a whim?” She giggles. “All I need is a cute, photogenic boyfriend on my arm to accompany me.”


Alya turns to the brunette with a raised eyebrow, “I’m gonna assume you have your eyes set on someone new this year?”


Lila frowns, “funny.” Alya smiles at her, “Teddy only outed himself to humiliate me. He got asked out by girls all the time last year, but all of a sudden when one of the most popular and beautiful girls asks him out he’s gay?” She scoffs. “Yeah, okay.”


“You think he’s faking it?”


“No.” Lila’s frown deepens, “I think he’s on the level, which is unfortunate for me because above all else, he really is super cute.” She sighs. “What I also happen to think he was waiting for the right opportunity to get a popularity boost. He was ‘one of’ the most popular boys in the school before outing himself. And with that Graham kid set to graduate...” Alya makes a seesawing motion with her right hand, “yeah, well, you know ...maybe. Anyway, there was an opening. He saw me then striked... stroked? Strucked? Attacked.”


“Girl, that is one hell of a conspiracy theory.”


“It’s not a ‘theory,’ it’s the truth! He could’ve picked any of the 900 girls that fawned all over him all school year! For fuck’s sake, that super pale Parisian-Russian Barbie doll wannabe with the plastic lips hung off him like a fucking leech!” Lila clears her throat as people walking by stare at her strangely.


“I think she miraculously graduated, and maybe it was just a coincidence with the timing?” Alya gets up and takes her bag back, “from what I heard? You were like the fifteenth girl to ask him out that day, before lunch. So, yeah, it could just’ve been the timing. But you gotta admit, after having been flirted with for so long it was a long time coming. Even the sweetest person on the planet has a breaking point.”


Lila rolls her eyes, then they start walking down the hall. “If he didn’t want girls to ask him out, he shouldn’t’ve joined sports. No thirteen-year-old has a four-pack. It’s impossible. He must’ve got held back a year.”


Alya hip-checks Lila, “don’t be that petty girl.”


Lila groans, “it’s so difficult not to be!” Alya laughs, “so enough about me, I saw your sister signing autographs outside on her motorcycle.” Alya’s face falls as she facepalms. “What’s wrong?”


“She...” Alya stops walking then looks around the hall, “she overheard me telling my maman...” She starts walking again, “about a problem I’ve been having.”


“Prob—oh.” Lila clicks her tongue. “Who hasn’t been having that ‘problem?’ I would pay good money to see your sister knock... you know who out with one punch. Like the comic guy? Just like one tap and she explodes or something.” Lila laughs, “hey, why don’t you just let her? Call it an exhibition match in case her family starts something legal.”


“No, Lila. I’m not entertaining the idea. You don’t think I can fight? Who do you think Nora practices with? I can kick some ass. I choose not to.”


“Right. Getting in a fight sets into that whole angry black girl stereotype, I get that. It’s why I keep my temper in check too. But damn it’s so tiring sometimes. What I wouldn’t give to just... deck someone who pisses me off though.” Alya laughs putting an arm around Lila.


They walk into the classroom and Alya groans out loud seeing Chloé in the front row with an unfamiliar green-eyed blond looking around like some sort of (over)eager puppy. “Oh come on! Dammit! Again!? I’m cursed! I have to be!”


Chloé stands at her desk, “oh no! This is not happening, again! Absolutely not! I demand a class change! Wait, I shouldn’t have to go anywhere.” She points at Alya, “she should be put in a new class.” The blonde smirks. “A remedial one.”


Alya drops her backpack as she walks further into the classroom and Lila grabs the orange-haired teen by the waist, “stereotype, stereotype.”


“What the hell is going on?” Everyone turns to the bespectacled purple-haired woman walking in the door in the back of the classroom. Everyone watches her walk up the aisle to the front of the classroom. “Well?”


“That girl with her tacky dye job—” Lila keeps her hold on Alya’s waist, “—is intent on starting trouble. She should be swiftly ejected from the classroom. From the school. From the city!”


The woman hums. “Seems a little extreme.”


“It—” Chloé squints at the woman, “wait, I don’t recognize you.”


“Why would you? Today is my first day. I had to video call the staff meeting because of travel confusion, but that’s not important. My name is Professeur Alexis Mendeleiev. You... blonde girl, what’s your name?”


“M-My—” Chloé does a double-take, “my name!? ...You don’t know who I am?”


“I wouldn’t be asking if I did.”


Chloé’s jaw drops, but then she quickly recovers. “I’m Chloé Bourgeois.”


“Uh-huh—” Chloé’s eyebrows furrow. Not the typical reaction, “—and you, with the orange-hair, what’s your name?”


“Alya Césaire.”


“Césaire? Similar to Marlena Césaire?”


Alya nods, “actually, she’s my ma—”


Chloé folds her arms over her chest, “you have got to be kidding me! You recognize her surname but not mine? That Césaire is a nobody who just so happens to have a famous parent way too good to be related to her. Probably a hospital mix up.” Alya cracks her knuckles. “I, on the other hand, am Mayor André Bourgeois’ amazing, talented, beautiful, famous by my own merits daughter—”


“Who’s a natural blonde, right?” Chloé glowers at Alya who rolls her eyes.


“Of course I’m a natural blonde!”


Alya rolls her eyes. “Uh-huh. Tell that to your brown eyebrows.”


Chloé gasps and her eyes widen. “You b—”


“Alright, enough. As I said, this is my first day here and I’d rather not have a fight before class officially begins. This is what is going to happen. Bourgeois and Césaire? Both of you are going to take seats in the front of the classroom where I can keep an eye on you. Whichever of you is first to start trouble is gonna leaving the classroom to take up your drama with the principal.”


“Fine with me.” Alya picks up her bag then takes the seat in the second row on the left with Lila joining her at the joint desk.


“Fine. Whatever.” Chloé mumbles plopping down in her seat.


The professeur sighs, “what’s with all the staring? This isn’t a theatre, everyone grab a seat.” Chloé turns to glare at Alya and Lila flips the blonde the bird. Scowling, she returns the gesture then turns to the front of the classroom. After the bell rings and the remaining stragglers fill the seats, Professeur Mendeleiev takes the next ten minutes to go over the class roster and take attendance. “So... you in the front next to Mlle. Bourgeois? Who are you and why are you in this class?”


“Me? Oh! Right! Sorry, professeur! My name is Adrien—”


“As in Adrien Agreste.” Chloé interrupts, smugly, “the—”


Model?!” A classmate finishes breathing heavily.


“That’s right~” The class excitedly murmurs, “who just so happens to be one of my best friends!” The murmurs almost immediately stop and Chloé smiles smugly as she looks around the room, “bask in his presence because this is about as close as the lot of you are gonna get to an actual celebrity! Well, another one.”


“Thank you for that ...intro, Mlle. Bourgeois, but why is he here?”


“He’s here to ‘observe classroom life’ or some bull.” Chloé elbows the green-eyed blond, “show her the thing.”


“Oh! Okay! Sure!” The blond gets up and walks to the professeur’s desk with a manila envelope. He’s wearing a visitor’s pass on the left sleeve of his long-sleeved black and gold button-up Agreste® shirt.


Lila shakes her head, “figlio di puttana. We got ourselves another Chloé.” Alya slams her head down on the desk.


The professeur takes out a paper from the envelope and reads it over, “everything checks out—”


There’s a loud thud then the front door opens and a blue-haired girl is leaning in the doorway panting. “Mix. Up.” She takes a deep breath.

Damocles sidesteps around the girl walking into the classroom, “I do apologize for the interruption, Professeur Mendeleiev. Mlle. Dupain-Cheng was unknowingly registered for two separate classes. There was...” He clears his throat, “an issue with her hyphenated surname. But—! We have resolved said issue and placed her in your class.”


“Right. Thanks for that. About this visitor?”


The Adrien Agreste? Sunshine of Paris? 2020 Face of the Year!?” The class look among themselves in confusion. “We should be humbled—no, honored—by his presence! He’s simply observing our school in hopes of one day becoming our student—” The class collectively groans and Chloé glares as she looks around the room. “In any event, let’s all show M. Agreste some François Düpont hospitality!” His smile drops as he points at the blue-eyed pink-haired girl in the back of the classroom, “Mlle. Kubdel, that goes double in particular to you!”


The pink-haired girl stands, putting her left hand on her chest. “I solemnly swear I’ll be as hospitable as humanely possible, Dumbacles.” The class chuckles. The principal narrows his eyes, giving the teen the I’m watching you motion with his fingers as he exits the room by walking backwards.


Professeur Mendeleiev shakes her head, “alright, settle down. We can laugh about Damocles later.” The class quiets. “Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, find a seat.” The girl nods then drags her bag on the ground as she walks to the empty table in front of Alya and Lila. “Alright. M. Agreste, word of caution: if your presence causes a disturbance you won’t be able to ‘witness classroom life’ in this classroom.” Gulping, the blond nods. “Now take a seat... next to Mlle. Dupain-Cheng.”


What?!” Chloé stands, “that’s ridiculous! Absolutely utterly phenomenally ridiculous! Adrikins is sitting with me! He’ll get commoner germs all over him otherwise.”


“I doubt he’ll experience being in a classroom without ‘commoner germs,’ Mlle. Bourgeois, and let me tell you one more thing: if you cause his presence to cause a disturbance, you’ll both be out of here.” The blonde’s eyes widen then narrow as she huffs and takes her seat.


The professeur gestures to Adrien to take his seat. Alya slowly lifts her head from the desk staring wide-eyed at the professeur as the green-eyed blond gathers his bag from where he was sitting and takes his new seat, “is this what love feels like?” She whispers to Lila who, just as stunned, wordlessly nods.


“Alright. Time to pass out your chemistry textbooks, along with the class’ syllabus.” The class groans. “You all may chat among yourselves, quietly, as we sort this out.”


Adrien clears his throat inching closer to the blue-haired girl, “hi. I’m Adri—”


The girl holds up a hand and Adrien snaps his mouth shut, “I’m gonna stop you right there, Pretty Boy. I heard your name.” Her green-grey eyes narrow. “I’m sure your sunshine smile is meant to disarm but I’m running on thirteen minutes of sleep after two rush job commissions. I am at bullshit capacity.”


The blond’s jaw drops. “All I did—”


The girl laughs mirthlessly, “spare me the innocent cutesy act. I overheard you—” She pokes him in the chest, “in my parents’ boulangerie pâtissèrie yesterday with your hoity-toity attitude bitching about the selection being kosher and gluten-free which ‘didn’t suit your needs.’”


Adrien’s eyes widen. “N-No, I—That isn’t what I said!”


Professeur Mendeleiev loudly clears her throat, raising an eyebrow at Adrien who shifts in his seat with a nervous laugh. She continues to stare until she calls up the last row to get their books.


“So on top of that you’re also calling me a liar?”


“No! Look, can I just—”


“What you can do, is go to hell.”


“I think this is what love feels like.” Lila whispers to Alya who nods in agreement. “She’s making me reconsider if I’d ever be with a girl. Of course, she also sets the standard pretty high.”


“If you’d just listen—”


“Take a hint, Blondie.” Lila interrupts, “although according to your roots, I wouldn’t say natural blond. Anyways, model or no model? No means no, Creep. She isn’t interested in what you have to say. Translation in French is leave her the hell alone.” Adrien glances up at the brunette and frowns, “still not understanding? I can translate it in Italian and Spanish too. Hell, I’ll even try my hand at telling you in English.”


“T-There’s no need for all that. I get it. I’m just trying to explain she got the wrong idea.”


“And I’m trying to explain to you she doesn’t give a damn about your explanation and is not interested in hearing it. I don’t think I can get any clearer than that.”


“But that’s not fair!”


“Why wouldn’t you plead your case?” Alya says nodding, holding her phone out in front of her. Looking at the blond over her phone, “not like you personally ranted on your personal Instagram, adrienAgresteoffical – you misspelled official by the way, about the ‘subpar’ selection at Sabine & Tom Boulangerie Pâtissèrie, located on Pine Street in the twenty-first arrondissement a block away from here, hashtagging the shop’s Instagram, for not carrying your bougie, bland pâtissèries?” The blond bristles. “Must’ve been another Adrien Aloysius Augustus Agreste employed by Agreste®?”


The blue-haired girl looks up at Alya and smiles. Lila puts her head on Alya’s shoulder, sighing lovingly.


Adrien opens his mouth when a bag hits him in the head. He yelps then looks up at the tall smiling brunet with a copper tipped fluffed up pompadour holding a messenger bag on his arm, “so sorry about that. We’re all here hoping you enjoy the hell out of this trial day of schooling, Monsieur Agreste.” He heads back to the back row whistling.


Adrien rubs his head. “Don’t let them get to you, Adrikins, they’re jealous—” A balled up piece of paper bounces off Chloe’s head and the class laughs. “You are dead, Kubdel.”


“Go cry to your papa about it.” Adrien spares a glance at the pink-haired girl in the back balling up a piece of paper in her hands. Staring directly back at him, the girl blows a huge yellow bubble then pops it. Adrien flinches before turning to the front of the classroom. Chloé... may have lied when she told him she was the school’s shining idol. (He should’ve known!) And this experience is nothing at all like the serials he’s watched! He sighs, putting propping up his head with his fist watching the row two rows behind his get up to get their books.


After all the books are collected, the professeur goes over the class’ syllabus (his deskmate reluctantly shared her book with him so he could follow along) and gives everyone homework – on the first day. And on a half-day to boot.


They all also get their lockers and were told their pictures for student identification cards will be taken after lunch tomorrow. Which is an hour-and-a-half long. There is no lunch today as it’s a half-day.

When class mercifully ends, he’s largely ignored when everyone chooses to exit the room through the back door. Even the girl sitting next to him.


Chloé shoves her purse at Adrien’s chest, angrily putting in the combination of her locker, “well, who hired her?” She grumbles into the phone, “what? And what about my papa?” Adrien watches people walk by glaring at him. He sighs looking at the ceiling. “Useless! Utterly useless!” Chloé yells into the phone hanging up.


“What’s the problem, Chloé?”


She laughs humorously, “is that a serious question? Did you not see that professeur with the crazy hair do nothing as I was harassed by that pint-sized bitch and her slobbering guard dog? Not to mention she had no idea who I am! Who. I. Am! What planet was she living on? Everyone knows who I am! I’m Chloé. Fucking. Bourgeois! ” She throws her science book into the locker. “I’m so pissed my nails are cracking. Look!” Adrien moves her hand from his face.


“Chlo, have you ever considered changing schools?”


Run away? Have you hit your head?”


Yes, my head was hit! Repeatedly! By paper balls! Spitballs! Dried fruit! Notebooks! School bags! Pencils! Packs of gum, thankfully unopened. If the chairs weren’t nailed down, I’m sure those would’ve been thrown too! And the professeur made me clean up all the trash that got thrown at me!”


“Welcome to public schooling, Adrikins.” She pats him on the face, “this is what you wanted, right? An ‘authentic’ experience? You won’t find this level of authenticity from television serials. It’s not all sunflowers and dewdrops, Sunshine. When you assert your authority you’re naturally going to have some people hate you. How does that one song go? ‘Rising superstar?’” Adrien stares at her confused. “‘Something, something? Hating what you can’t become? Never reaching?’ You know...? By Clara Nightingale?”


“I—I don’t think those are the lyrics.”


Chloé waves him off, “whatever. Jealousy is such an ugly emotion. They’re jealous I’m the closest thing to perfection they’ll ever witness!” People stop what they’re doing to stare at the blonde who blows them all kisses. “You keep staring and I’ll start charging.” Everyone goes back to what they’re doing.


“So every day people glare and throw stuff at you?”


“The glaring, yes, they can’t help it. I shine so bright it hurts to stare directly. And they’re only throwing things at you because they’re trying to get a rise out of you. It’s honestly never happened before. Okay, well, yes with Kubdel and her scary accuracy but not with anyone else; they’re not brain damaged enough. They think you’re an easy target.” She pokes Adrien’s forehead. “Don’t. Be. Don’t let them hold any power over you. But most importantly? Do. Not stoop to their level. It’s subterranean.” She grimaces looking at her hand. “I’m skipping class to get an emergency mani-pedi.” She shuts her locker then takes her purse from Adrien’s hands. “I know you won’t be coming with me so just... try not to—just hang tight until I get back. I’m also trying to get in touch with papa to get rid of that professeur. You can’t tell me she didn’t catch any of those insects throwing things at you? Come on. It’s utterly unbelievable. Anyway, I’m going. Kisses~” Adrien gapes watching her dial a number on her phone as she walks down the hall.


Adrien chuckles nervously as no one staring at him bothers hiding their disdain, not that they did when he was standing next to Chloé but at least she was there to distract him. This... must be what his cousin meant when he said Chloé and Sabrina ruined his public schooling experience. He looks around then sighs in relief spotting a familiar head of orange hair exiting a classroom. Speak of the devil! “Sabrina!” He yells running over to the bespectacled teen. “Thank goodness!”


“Adrien?” The blonde walking beside Sabrina waves goodbye walking down the hall. Sabrina waves to her then fully turns to the green-eyed blond. “What—? What the hell are you doing here?” She hugs him.


“Chloé didn’t tell you? My papa finally let me test out a public school and Oncle André suggested this one.” The bespectacled teen raises an eyebrow as they separate, “I was sitting in on Chloé’s class but she... she left to get an emergency mani-pedi.”


“What upset her?”


“What—? This...? This is a thing that just happens? Her—Won’t she get in trouble for leaving school?”


Sabrina laughs, “is that a serious question? She’s Chloé. You think she gets in trouble anywhere let alone in this school? Damocles is a patsy. He and the entire staff are all practically in love with Tante Audrey and work with Oncle André. Damocles won’t punish Chloé if she set him on fire. I’m pretty much immune to trouble myself since my papa got prompted to chief over the summer... after the previous chief got fired for money laundering.” She grabs Adrien by the arm, “let their hatred fuel you, Adrien! That’s what Chloé and I do. You can sit in on my class. Can’t guarantee it’ll be as dramatic as Chloé’s class but there will be drama.”


“Oh great. I just wanted a glimpse of school life.”


“And you’re getting one! You didn’t say you wanted a good glimpse of school life.”


“You’re right. That was my mistake thinking that bit was obvious.”


The professeur checks over his visitor’s pass and his manila envelope then shrugs waving him away. Sabrina leads him to the back slash top of the classroom, because why wouldn't you look down on the plebeians when you could? She’s... clearly been influenced by Chloé.


As they’re walking up the staircase, he bumps into someone. “I’m sorry.” Something drops on the floor and he picks it up. He blushes when a beautiful girl with long purple hair and pink tips and red-brown eyes (well, only her left eye is visible) is standing in front of him, turned to him.


A short blonde girl with a pixie cut that has multi-colored tips pops up from behind the purple-haired girl and gasps loudly, “he’s trying to steal your wallet!” She yells pointing at the object in Adrien’s hand... which just so happens to be a skull wallet he picked up from the floor. Seriously!? The class gasps (theatrically in Adrien’s opinion).


N-No! That’s not—”


“Unbelievable.” The purple-haired girl deadpans snatching her wallet out of his hand. “Gonna rant about this on social media too, Creep?” She stomps on his foot then brushes past him to her seat. The blonde slaps him across his face then jogs after the tall girl.


“I am just not having a good day.” Adrien groans, holding his throbbing cheek.


“One of the downsides of being famous.” Sabrina says pushing him along. “You keep staring and I’ll start charging!” Everyone turns back to the front of the class. Sabrina sits in the corner seat and Adrien takes the one to her left. “So... I wish I checked my phone before I left my last class. Apparently, you being here is big. News. Like XY being held back this year big. The school’s paper website isn’t even active yet and you’re on the front page! They say you’re a total super diva! An even bigger one than Chloé! An even bigger one than Oncle Gabriel!” Sabrina gasps. “I didn’t even think that was possible! And you’re anti-Semitic not to mention anti-gluten-free to boot!”


What!? That’s ...ridiculous! I’m not any of that! I made one comment about the weird flavors of the éclairs they were selling and I’m being a ‘super diva?’”


“I say you milk it.”


“I don’t wanna ‘milk it!’ I’m not a super diva. I’m not even a regular diva!”


“You do kinda sound like one with the yelling.” Adrien groans. Sabrina whistles as she stares at her phone, “wait, what did you—? Ooh... oh no. Oh no no no. You... seriously?”


“What is it?”


“‘What is it?’” Sabrina laughs humorously then stops abruptly as Adrien stares blankly at her, “you... you really have no idea.” The bespectacled teen pinches the bridge of her nose, pushing up her glasses, “the callousness and willful ignorance just makes matters worse. Let me simplify: claiming ‘weird’ flavors from a kosher, gluten-free Chinese influenced boulangerie pâtissèrie isn’t ‘being a diva’ Adrien, it is first-tier racism.”


“It—N-No it isn’t!”


“Yeah, it is. What was the ‘weird’ flavor you bitched about? Was it red bean paste? That’s common in Chinese pâtissèries. Ergo, not ‘weird’ at all. So, yeah, like I said it’s racist claiming it is ‘weird.’ And why would you use the word ‘weird’ anyway?”


Adrien does a double-take, “how—what? How... How do you know that?”


“How do I know what? About the red bean paste?” Adrien nods. “Research. Don’t tell Chloé but I’m a regular at Sabine & Tom. She’s all in that ‘carbs are evil’ phase and I am not going down that route. I need to have my sweet dumplings on half-days. Speaking of which, I gotta get some after school.”


“D-Do they ...let you? It seems like being associated with Chloé is not a good thing here. She told me she was famous in this school.”


“Infamous is the word I’d use.” Adrien facepalms. “And I’m not Chloé. Yes, being her best friend does get me barred from some places, but it also give me insider access into others. Since Chloé never stepped foot in the boulangerie pâtissèrie, and probably won’t; I’m good. I got nothing to worry about. I do wish we were in the same class like we were last year, but, at the same time, I also kinda like not having to sit with her in every class where we have joint desk and weren’t sat alphabetically. She’s such a desk hog!”


“Do people glare and throw stuff at you all day?”


“Why wouldn’t they glare, Adri-kins? I’m perfection~” She pinches his non red cheek and he glowers.


“Maybe school isn’t such a good idea now?”


“Don’t be a baby. So people hate you? Big deal? It’s hardly a crisis. Not everyone is gonna love you. Haven’t you gotten hate mail or bad reviews from one of your modeling gigs or magazine spreads? Power through it just like you would there.”


“No.”


“‘No?’ No what? No, you’re not powering through it?”


“No, I’ve never received hate mail or bad reviews.”


“‘No?’ As in never?” Sabrina snorts. “Right. Okay. ‘You never received a bad review.’ That’s as true as me saying I’m a pixie masquerading as a human.” The orange-haired teen rolls her eyes. “I find it very hard to believe you are cruising through your career —your entire ten plus year career— with zero negativity. That’s some wicked delusion right there. You are hardly the hottest model Paris has—” She pauses then rubs the back of her neck “...uh no offense.”


“None taken and it’s true!”


“Very doubtful. Utterly impossible. Is it selective searching? Blind optimism? Wait!” She hits her left palm with her right fist, “I got it! Oncle Gabriel runs your Agreste® Instagram account, right? He must moderate your comments!” Adrien blinks at her, “that makes perfect sense. It’s literally the only way you’d not know people aren’t always saying good things about you. Most of the city doesn’t even consider you to be Paris’ top model. Not even in the top three!” Adrien’s jaw drops. “Oncle Gabriel either may be blocking the comments altogether or changing them to something positive. And maybe in the past, before social media, he’d just give you the positive paper fan-mail? Your papa is ...not the greatest when it comes to criticism of any kind. Remember his ‘duck’ collection? And the soap?” Sabrina shudders. “He must’ve been was-ted making those.” She clears her throat. “Now, I’ll show you the comments from your Agreste® Instagram account and your personal one through my account, unfiltered. Just a heads up? It’s not all pretty.” Sabrina hands Adrien her phone and he gasps.


🐈 & 🐞


“Hey Teddy~” A group of girls greet passing by. When the black-haired teen takes his head out of his locker the girls squeal running off.


Teddy rubs the back of his neck, shrugs, then goes back into his locker. “I’m so glad school ends before lunchtime because I am starving.” Johnny leans against the wall to the left of the lockers.


“You wanna head to Sabine & Tom after school lets out?”


“No way, man. I love Mme. C but everyone is gonna be there. Didn’t you hear the support the shop’s racking up because of that racist model asshole?”


“Yeah. Saw him too. He was sitting in on my class this morning.” Johnny whistles, “I’ve seen his face in magazine covers in waiting rooms. I always thought the was kinda... bland looking? Scratching my head figuring out why everyone was losing their shit looking at him. Kids our age. Grown-ups. I was completely lost. Seeing him up close only cemented there really isn’t anything special to him. At least in my opinion. But I guess when your parents are famous, you can do anything.” They both exchange a knowing look.


“Remember when someone stole his cardboard cutout for the short-lived Agreste® soap?”


Teddy laughs, “that... was not a good marketing strategy. ‘Smell like an Agreste.’” He shudders and Johnny cackles. “I’m kinda surprised it made it to production.”


“When we went to the mall for stuff for Tante Cam last year we passed by the display and it smelled like ass. No, that’s an insult to asses.”


Teddy gets out of his locker and stands up straight, cracking his back. “I don’t know how I’m gonna do this all school year long.”


“Ask for a swap with someone shorter. Or get someone shorter to slip into your locker for you. I’m sure you have a couple dozen fans who’d do it willingly.”


“I—” A can of fruit juice lands into Johnny’s left hand and he juggles it before tossing it back from where it came from. “What the hell—?”


“That one’s hers, Rem!” He yells.


“Sorry, J! My bad!”


Teddy turns around and doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary. He turns back to Johnny. “I see you two are still express delivering food to each other?”


“What are friends for, Big Guy? If not to help you and your twin keep each other’s blood sugar levels balanced.” Teddy does a double-take as Johnny catches a bag of dried fruit in his arms without missing a beat, “it’s like having a sixth and seventh sense. Ooh, dried bananas. Thanks, Nino!”


“Anytime, Dude!”


Johnny opens the bag offering Teddy some as Teddy closes his locker and they start walking down the hall. “There was a mix up with me and Ramone, they put us both in the same classroom because they only had one kid with the surname Watts. Damocles took like the whole damn class period figuring out what to do.”


“What did he do?”


“Kept us in the same damn homeroom anyway.”


Teddy shakes his head, “this principal...” He furrows his eyebrows, “did something simi—” He pauses, “hey, wait a sec—! If you two are in the same class why are you throwing food to each other? Why can’t you just get the food from each other when you get to class?”


“Where’s the fun in that?”


Teddy opens his mouth to respond but the ground shakes violently. A person-sized, two-dimensional paper cutout with a musical note on their head and another on their chest, rounds the corner and takes a step that has the ground shaking again. Teddy braces himself against the wall and grabs Johnny by the arm keeping him upright. “W-What the hell is that?”


“I-I was thinking the same thing!”


“Is this groundbreaking enough for you!?” The cutout screams.


“That was... just a terrible pun.” Teddy puts his free hand to his head.


The butterfly mask outline appears over the cutout’s eyes. An akuma. Of course it is. This is life now. “Am I still one note? Flat? One-dimensional? A Blank Slate? A Cardboard Cutout!?” As the cutout advances, an all too familiar shell sails through the air catching the akuma in the head.


The students in the hall fleeing cheer as Southpaw jumps in the air catching Aegis’ shield. “You need to learn how to take some constructive criticism, bud.” She taunts.


The mask reappears over the akuma’s eyes, “your Miraculouses are mine!”


“I doubt that very much. And allow me to give you a review for your latest film.” Southpaw blows a raspberry and the akuma snarls.

With Teddy still holding his arm, Johnny finds himself being dragged away.


As Johnny turns around, he sees that the cat has showed up as well. It’s easier than he expected to “lose” Teddy in the chaos and slip away into an unoccupied room. Even before he tried to free himself some students wrestled Teddy’s hand from his arm replacing it with theirs, then fighting with the next arm trying to do the same thing and replace theirs. “To be honest, I was expecting Monarque to strike much sooner than he has.”


“Yeah, well, I was hoping he didn’t strike at all. So much for an ordinary first day. It’s been over a week since the baby.” Johnny sighs giving the kwami one of the dried bananas from the bag. The kwami gives him a toothy grin accepting the treat. “I feel like expecting a normal day is gonna be like asking for too much.” He brings his hands together, “alright little buddy, go time. Scale along, Sass.” With a nod, the kwami merges with the sapphire ouroboros bangle on Johnny’s left wrist, turning it turquoise. He stood as far away from the doorway as he could, hoping the bright turquoise light he gets engulfed in remains unseen. Scales begin coating his body from his feet up, forming his suit; almost like he’s hatching. His cowl is the last to appear, covering the top half of his face. Lastly, his pupils slit like a snake’s and his teeth sharpen. Grabbing the lyre from his waist (he had to ask Sass with the instrument was because he kept calling it a harp [which started a long-winded rant about the differences between the two]), he creeps along the wall to look out the doorway and see the cat and Southpaw both spinning their weapons to deflect the akuma’s paper shuriken. Oh boy. It’s never just one power with these akumas, is it?


“Aren’t we supposed to Power Rangers style fight the bad guy together?” Southpaw asks.


“There were some episodes in which the team wasn’t together when the enemy appeared, and they were doing what they could until the others arrive.” The cat replies.


“Oh.” Southpaw says with a heavy sigh. “Alright. Ooh! I call leader this fight!” Southpaw wraps her jumprope around the akuma’s neck and pulls it forward. “Attack!” She shouts. The cat and Aegis shrug as they ready their weapons.


Johnny tiptoes out of the room and around the corner so he doesn’t draw attention to himself. As he’s ready to turn the corner toward his team, the cat goes flying over his head. “What the—”


“Shit.” Aegis mutters.


“Crap, crap! I didn’t know he could do that!” The Southpaw on the right says as the one on the left shakes her head. “We’ll get it right this time.”


Johnny – he needs to come up with a name – clicks his bangle back a fang going back the last twenty seconds. This time, he catches the cat in mid-air. “Sup.”


“H-Hey.” When they land, he sets the cat upright on his feet. “T-Thanks.”


“Ooh you’re... wait, I don’t know your name. I don’t know any of you guys’ names.” Southpaw jumpropes backwards and her multiple disappears as she and Aegis run over to them.


“I didn’t tell you I’m going by Aegis?”


“I thought you were sneezing.” Aegis does a double-take at her teammate.


“I’m going by Hex.”


“‘Hex?’” The team questions.


“Bad luck? Destruction? I based my name off my powers like Aegis did.”


“D-Do we all have to do that? I like Southpaw. I’ve already gotten used to calling himself that.”


“It—” Aegis lifts her hand, bringing her shield up as the akuma rudely throws paper shuriken in their direction. “I wasn’t trying to start a trend, I was just thinking of a practical name.”


“Okay, if we elected the ladybug to be the leader, you are clearly the second in command.”


Aegis turns to Hex, “wha—?”


“I second that... second in command.” Johnny nods in agreement. “Wait. Is green usually the second in command?” Southpaw asks. “And if she’s green and he’s green, which of you is really green? Oh whatever. It doesn’t matter. We have an ass to kick!”


“But we’re gonna need a strategy that isn’t us running at him and getting thrown back when he crinkles in on himself and sends out shockwaves.” Hex states.


“It’s totally unfair! How many powers does he need!? This fake-ass Paper Mario villain reject.”


Johnny strums his lyre. It’s a little weird his weapon isn’t even a weapon and it also is not good for much; it’s his Miraculous that allows the do-overs. And it’s a last resort power anyhow. Sass told him to be careful using “second chance” as overusage could lead to some rather unpleasant side effects.

Aegis’ shell is used as a projectile, though Johnny isn’t certain if that is the intended use but it gets the job done all the same. Southpaw has the jumprope that she also uses as a weapon but using it to actually jumprope has her multiple and shrink. Hmmm. He doesn’t know about Hex’s powers regarding his baton. So far he’s only used it to deflect.


Huh. Maybe their weapons their primary fire and their powers are additional?

Maybe he could try to use his lyre offensively. Bash it over the akuma’s head? Chuck it at the akuma. He’ll have to think.


“Alright. We’ll fan out. Corner him, then attack from all sides. Can you use multiple shields Ag... Eg... uh Mlle. Turtle?”


“I guess we’ll find out.”


“Okay! We should totally come up with a cheer.”


“Uh...” Johnny and his other two teammates exchange glances, “how about later?” Aegis says.


“Right! Let’s—”


“Wait!” Hex holds up his hands, “we can’t corner him, we’re in a hallway.”


The four of them turn toward the akuma. “Well, shit.” Aegis says with a sigh.


“No, no! This can still work. A... or does it start with an E? Whatever. Girl power, the two of us are gonna stay here and you two are gonna try and make your way around the akuma, because almost all hallways connect and whatever, then we can attack from... at least two sides?”


The three of them shrug, “it’s worth a shot.” Johnny says.


“Team cheer?” They stare at Southpaw. “Alright fine. Let’s do this!” Aegis dissolves her shield and the butterfly mask appears over the akuma’s eyes.


“You’ve spent the past two minutes delaying the inevitable—”


“‘You’re going to take our Miraculouses.’” The team finishes, deadpan with a headshake, before nodding at one another and splitting up.


Southpaw beckons the akuma. “Hope you’re ready for your photo op, Blandrien Boregreste~” She jumpropes twice and splits in three. “You know, you should stick to this look.” The Southpaw in the center says, “ way better than your usual one.” The other two nod in agreement.


The akuma’s left eye twitches but the mask outline reappears over his face. “...But it would be so easy to—” He growls then the outline disappears and he turns his fingers into shuriken.


“Oh! So that’s how he did it!” The three Southpaws chorus.


He fires the shuriken at the three Southpaws but Aegis’ shield rises from the ground in front of them, and the shuriken bounce off the shield. He keeps on firing shuriken and they keep on bouncing off the shield.


“Cataclysm!” The akuma turns around as Hex slams his glowing fist into the ground. The ripple effect creates a crack in the ground that spread all the way to where the akuma is standing. One of his legs gets caught in the split ground and Johnny and Aegis both approach from both sides and uppercut the akuma.


“Ass-kicking relay!” Southpaw shouts before all three charge at the akuma.


Wait!” Hex shouts. The akuma crinkles in itself.


“Oh fu—”


Johnny clicks his bangle back a fang.


“Cataclysm!” The akuma turns around as Hex slams his glowing fist into the ground. The ripple effect creates a crack in the ground that spreads all the way to where the akuma is standing. One of his legs caught in the split ground and he staggers trying to free himself. Johnny and Aegis run at the akuma, approaching from both sides and both simultaneously uppercut the akuma.


“Ass-kicking—” Southpaw shouts.


“Wait!” The three Southpaws pause. “If you come at him he’ll repel the attack. Aegis, do you know where the akuma is?”


Aegis pauses then beams. She knees the akuma in the stomach then brings her shield down on his head after he doubles over. As he drops to the ground the akuma flutters out of his left hand, transforming him back to normal through the purplish-black ooze, and they both take a step back. “That’s... one way to find out.” Southpaw – just one – says approaching them with the jumprope over her right shoulder.


“What do we do with it?!”


Johnny gasps, “try and make a shield around it.” He rubs the back of his neck, “last few times we just tried and touched it? Not great.”


Nodding, Aegis creates a shield around the akuma and it angrily flies into the shield from every angle, trying to escape. “Nice.” She elbows Johnny with a grin. “Now we know if we knock the victim out the akuma will leave their body. But I can’t stay transformed forever, what do I do with the akuma?”


“I don’t know. We didn’t get this far.”


A portal materializes right in front of them and the horse drops out of it. When she lands she flips her hair back and some of the students – Johnny honestly forgot where they were for a second – swoon. “Hey.” She draws a circle in the air and the bubbled akuma gets sucked in it then the circle disappears.


“That’s it, huh? So you come out of nowhere after we’re already done and just take all the credit?”


“I don’t know where the beetle is, so I was sent to grab the akuma. You know, before it spreads and we have another hypermarket mass akuma attack? You’re welcome.”


Aegis rolls her eyes, “right.”


“Hey, guys!” They all turn to Southpaw standing, looking down to where the unconscious Adrien Agreste is laying face down on the tiled floor. She nudges the blond with her foot, “what do we do with ‘em? I mean, should we even be helping him? We are all brown—” The others look around at one another realizing it, “—and he is a racist scumbag.”


Aegis holds up both hands. “I’m not touching him.”


Hex folds his arms over his chest. “I’m Jewish so I’m definitely not touching him.”


“Not it.” Johnny holds up both hands and shaking his head.


I don’t wanna touch him.” Southpaw says.


The horse shakes her head. “Nope.”


The team look among one another then shrug before walking off in the opposite direction. The students in the hallway quickly whip out their phones and take pictures of them as they exit the school through the front doors.


🐈 & 🐞


“An. Absolute. Embarrassment!” Adrien flinches. “I told you repeatedly that public schooling was unrealistically glamorized in television and wasn’t worth the effort, yet you continued to ignore my warnings. Did you forget I was unfortunate enough to attend six years of public schooling before my talents were recognized?”


“Père—”


“I’m not finished.” The blond, seated behind the desk, adjusts his glasses then sighs, “you made a real spectacle of yourself, Adrien. And you wondered why I had you home-schooled for eight years? And on top of everything, you get yourself akumatized. Over meaningless comments.”


“If they were so meaningless, why did you hide them from me?”


The bespectacled blond sighs heavily, “because I knew you’d obsess over them. And I see I was correct. Adrien, I will tell you this one time: the only person’s opinion you ever need to worry about is mine.” The teen frowns. “As punishment for this horrendous public scandal you’re leaving Nathalie and myself to fix, you are going to enroll full time to François Düpont—”


“N-No! You can’t—! Père, please! Not there! Everyone hates me there!”


“You should have thought about the consequences of your actions beforehand. You are the face of Agreste®. Do you think we can have a racist, anti-Semitic spokesperson telling people—people of all colors and creeds—to buy our wares? Tomorrow, you are going to issue a public apology for your carelessness then you are going to spend your latest paycheck on as many of that shop’s pâtissèries as it’ll buy then donate them to some charity. Take the next few days to figure out a way to dig yourself out of this hole you put yourself in because I’m going to enroll you for next week. You’re dismissed.”

Nodding, Adrien leaves his father’s office as the man takes his glasses off and puts both hands over his eyes.


“Adrien.” He flinches as his father’s personal assistant rounds the corner, as Adrien closes his father’s office door behind him.


“I’m so sorry, Nathalie.”


The blue-haired woman’s face softens a fraction as she puts a hand on his shoulders, “you really need to be careful. A public figure like yourself can’t afford something of this magnitude. Sponsors and shareholders are threatening to take their business elsewhere if this issue isn’t resolved in 48 hours.”


“F-Forty-eight hours!? That’s not nearly enough time!”


“Considering, it took one hour for this news to become public as someone livestreamed your conversation with that girl. You’re lucky we were given as long as we were given.”


“Why would anyone want to livestream—how could they?! Professeur Mendeleiev didn’t allow phones to be out—” Adrien pauses then facepalms, “it was before. I was talking to that girl while books were being distributed so yeah...” He sighs, “crap. I really screwed up, didn’t I?”


Nathalie wordlessly nods, patting him on the shoulder again before walking off.


When Adrien gets to his room Chloé and Sabrina are inside. They both get up from his bed and hug him as he walks in the room.


“Oh Adrikins, you royally fucked up.” Chloé pats his head. Both girls lead Adrien to his bed and they all sit down on it, “don’t worry, Nathalie will find a way to fix things. She’s like—Well, it’s like her superpower fixing up messes. Remember Maman’s plaid and gingham faux pas? Nathalie,” Chloé snaps her fingers, “made that picture go away in the blink of an eye. And I never thought it was possible to completely erase something from the internet.”


“Chloé, I think this is a bit bigger than Tante Audrey mixing up virtually identical clothing patterns.”


Chloé snorts, “says you.”


“It’s my fault.” Sabrina sighs, “I shouldn’t’ve showed you the comments. Granted, I didn’t know you’d snap and get akumatized. I guess I sorta forgot that was a thing we have to worry about now. Watching out for purple butterflies. If only there was some kind of way we’d know how to, like, keep an eye out for them.”


“This isn’t your fault, Sabrina. It’s Oncle Gabriel’s. I get sheltering you from bad stuff but to shelter you from every bad thing? If you don’t experience anything bad you’ll never grow.”


No, you know who’s fault this really is? Aside from Oncle Gabriel? Whoever shot the video and posted it online.”


Chloé gasps pointing at Sabrina, “you’re right! Ooh, I bet it was Kubdel! That spiteful little troll! Or Césaire! No, Césaire wouldn’t do anything that underhanded. She’s not clever enough.”


“Maybe it was that shifty-eyed girl Césaire hangs around? The one staying with the Dean family?”


“Dean?” Chloé gasps then smirks, “rejoice, Adrikins! Sabrina has just given me what I needed to fix this.”


🐈 & 🐞


“Kaalki, dismount.” The transformation breaks and the horse kwami flutters out of the brunette’s glasses. “What the hell is that turtle’s deal anyhow?” She grumbles, “not even a thanks for preventing a mass akuma attack? Just starts off giving me attitude.”


Kaalki floats over to the brunette, “remember: stress causes wrinkles. We are far too fabulous to worry about the attitudes of others. Wayzz’s hatchling is insignificant. You are doing a fantastic job with my Miraculous, America.” The brunette smiles at the kwami. “Now come on., let’s see Master Fù. Your dimension can only hold the akuma for so long without you transformed, keeping it at bay.”


As they round the corner, Kaalki gasps flying into America’s hair as she bumps into someone full force. They both sorta just bounce off each other then crumple to the ground. They both shake it off and sit up at the same time. “Ow.” They utter simultaneously, “sorry.” Blinking, they look up at each other.


The white-haired kid jumps to their feet and offers a hand America takes, “huh... you’re... pretty tall.”


“Yeah, I get that a lot. Were you about to head in this comic book shop?”


The kid pauses, furrowing his eyebrows, “nah. Sorry again.” Shoving their hands in their pockets, the kid walks off.


America shrugs then enters the shop.


Fù is seated on a barstool behind the counter chuckling to himself. “How will you get out of this one Squeezy? Oh!” He puts a bookmark into the comic. “Thank you for... taking care of the trash, Mlle. Chavez. I’ll be closing early this afternoon. Can you get the door?”


America locks up the shop then Fù gestures for her to follow and she does.


“Grabbed the akuma before it could infect anyone else. It was in a bubble that I think the Turtle Girl made.”


Fù nods, “can you show me?”


America takes a deep breath, “giddy up, Kaalki.” The kwami flies into the glasses transforming them then America. White and brown and strings tie together forming around America creating her suit and dying her hair white then braiding them. Unlike the last time, the left side of her hair gets shaved off and her tail is now micro braided as well.


America draws a circle in the air and the bubbled akuma comes out of the created portal. Fù presses a finger against the bubble and it pops, causing the akuma inside to disintegrate.


“How do you do that?”


“Decades of practice. I can counter almost any kwami’s ability used for evil.”


“That’s a useful ability. Dismount, Kaalki.” The transformation breaks and the kwami floats out of the glasses, “you’re probably starving.” The kwami nods floating over to America’s left shoulder and plopping down with a yawn. “Let’s get some food in you.”


“I can assist you with that.”

“I feel a but coming.”

“It was more of a ‘however,’ but the point remains. I believe you should tell your parents where you are.”


America scoffs, “pass. I ran away for a reason. I’ve been gone for three weeks and they didn’t even send out a missing person’s report. They’re hardly the first foster family to blame some unseen and unreal outside force for spending all the money they get for having me on themselves. I’m better off on my own, without—” Kaalki pointedly clears her throat, “—huh? Oh, right not on my own anymore. Sorry, Kaalki. Look, I’m better off without them. And you’d have to take my Miraculous and hogtie me if you want me heading back.”


“I have no intention of handing you off to a neglectful family. I was not aware of your living situation when I pressed the subject and I apologize. You are not the first runaway I have dealt with in my life and I doubt you will be the last. You are more than welcome to remain here, if you choose.”


“I feel another but coming.”


“You might have a roommate.”


“‘Might?’”


“I offered lodging to the ladybug Miraculous wielder, but—” Fù jerks his head back and America sees a red spotted kwami sitting on the windowsill sighing, holding a circular earring in each paw.


America’s eyes widen. “He quit?!”

Chapter 4: any ordinary art school

Summary:

Plagg may have spoken too quickly about the state of the team’s synergy, which – with no leader and no structure – steadily begins declining. On the civilian side of things, an akuma attack displaces the students of Lune forcing some to seek educational refuge at François Düpont

Notes:

A/N: I feel like this is important to warn about in case I end up triggering anything or anyone: there are multiple instances of Xavin getting misgendered throughout the chapter that go uncorrected. Most of them are used to describe Xavin from another character’s point of view, because you know with human(oid)s and assumptions and whatnot?, so they are not spoken aloud. Then there are several Xavin hears but does not bother commenting on slash correcting. Unfortunately, there will be a bit more in the next chapter as well.

I have not seen the NY special but I’ve seen pictures. Suffice to say, I hate “Uncanny Valley’s” look so it’s getting a much-needed recoloring. Or I might just redo the whole damn thing. Also, I am going to assume – based on her image – that Aeon, who is absolutely getting a better name, can pass for human? Even if she hadn’t... whatever, it’s my AU and I say she can and has.

Chapter Text

The butler arrives in the suite pushing a food cart with several cloches on it. “Dinner has arrived. Courtesy of Chef Césaire.”


Before Audrey can open her mouth her phone begins vibrating on the table beside her hand. She glances at her phone then sighs, “dammit. I have to take this call.” Sighing again, she gets up. “I specifically told them not to call between five and seven. Unbelievable.” André and Chloé look up at her, “this’ll... take some time. Just go on and eat without me.” She accepts the phone call as she makes her way toward her bedroom.


“Papa.” André turns from the door Audrey just closed to his daughter, “I have a request, per se.” André raises an eyebrow. “I believe it would be beneficial to François Düpont if you were to close down every other collège in the city.”


André stares incredulously at his daughter, “what?”


“Hear me out.” The butler sets their cloches down in front of them before leaving. Chloé and André stare at the cloche in front of the empty, pushed-in chair before returning their attention to each other. “Karolina Dean attends Lune Collège of Arts, right? If Lune were gone along with her second and third option, all she’d have is François Düpont! I know you’re trying to get some sportsy kids in the school for all those ‘high-end’ programs Damocles had you pour all that money I could’ve used for shopping into. Karolina isn’t sportsy herself but she’s well-known and well-connected enough to spread the word to kids who are.”


“Chloé, I’m just as sick of hearing about Lune as anyone, but where in the world did you even come up with an idea like this?”


“It’s pretty genius, right? Sabrina helped, in a way. When we were comforting Adrikins, she mentioned how Oncle Gabriel is partially...” She pauses, “mostly at fault for Adrikins’ akumatization with how he hid all the bad things utterly jealous people say about his modeling career.” André nods slowly, “although between you and me, Adrikins could stand to make an expression once in a while. I mean he’s always just... standing there. For ten plus years? Somebody was gonna notice.” Chloé waves it off, “whatever. Not the point. The point is: Sabrina mentioned a shady classmate of mine who is staying with the Deans. Then I remembered how Damocles failed to get them involved with François Düpont four years ago before my enrollment.”


“Princess, I love your... ingenuity, truly I do, but I cannot conceivably close down every other collège in the city. It’ll be astronomically suspicious. And after my re-election I cannot afford any type of suspicion of any caliber let along something this large.” Chloé folds her arms over her chest glowering, “you heard Gabriel’s Agreste® public apology on Friday where he talked about enrolling Adrien at François Düpont to ‘teach him about all walks of life.’”


“What does that have to do with anything?”


“Think about it, Chloé. Adrien entering François Düpont the same day every other collège is no longer available?”


“But he’d already be enrolled before anything happened!” Chloé rolls her eyes, “ugh. Whatever. Fine. We should be able to close down some collèges, right? Or is that ‘suspicious’ too?”


“It all depends on what is done.” Chloé happily claps her hands together, “look, I know you want to help Adrien but—”


“No buts, Papa. Adrikins needs this! You have no idea how utterly awful people were to him! Glaring while he walked by and throwing stuff at him in class? He was close to a nervous breakdown! Although now that I think about it, getting akumatized means he actually did break down.” Chloé shakes her head, “doesn’t matter. I don’t know if he can handle a whole school year like that. And I know for a fact that I cannot and will not handle a school year where I have to run away from Adrikinumas at every turn.” André nods with a hum. “You know how much of a softie Adrien is. Wanting to be loved by everybody? Personally, I prefer to be feared. You get a lot more attention that way. Though being admired may have its own set of perks.” She pauses. “I’d assume. If akumas weren’t a thing, poor Adrikins would still be bawling his eyes out. The poor thing was a mess yesterday. It took more of those chalky sablés than both Sabrina and I could stomach to get him to stop. I honestly cannot believe he’s in this situation because of his horrendous taste in pâtissèries; if those can even be considered pâtissèries.”


André frowns, “I’m afraid he gets his lack of taste from his papa. Gabriel hasn’t been the same since the divorce, but even before then he wasn’t what anyone would call ‘doting,’ and he certainly wasn’t the one to let Adrien out of his sight long enough to learn things for himself. How he got custody over Émilie I’ll never know.”


“Maybe we should call Tante Émilie?”


No.” André shudders frantically waving his arms in front of his body, “I have too much on my plate without adding the Graham de Vanily Agreste family’s drama. Let’s focus on ways we can close down Lune. If there is any collège I want out of the picture it’s that one.”


Chloé squeals, “budget cuts!”


“I like it, unfortunately it won’t work. Although not a private collège, Lune is privately funded. I wasn’t even aware the school existed until it was already finished building.”


Chloé squints at her father. “...So a school building just got built without your knowledge? You’re the mayor!”


“Lots of things get built without my knowledge, Chloé. I can’t keep track of every paper I sign!”


“Well maybe you should, Papa. What about shutting Lune down because of building permits or something?”


“No, they submitted all of those. Everything is up to code.”


Chloé groans, “set it on fire?”


“We couldn’t afford to pay for its insurance.”


Chloé runs her hands down her face. “A gas leak?”


André hums, “now that is doable. It would require entering the school, however, and I don’t know anyone working inside the building. Which I believe was done intentionally. I could have Audrey check the school out. Attempt to teach a class on fashion or something? I’ll accompany her and...” André pauses and Chloé stares at him. He gasps then his eyes widen. “Wait. I just had an idea we don’t need to be present for! I heard Lune has an entomologist.”


“What’s an... enter-mo-logoist?”


“An entomologist is someone who studies insects.” Chloé shudders. “As we were looking for something to watch last night, I stopped on a channel that had a program on the world’s deadliest poisonous insects. We just find a way to get some and—”


“I like where you’re head’s at, Papa, but that’s utterly too much work and way too time consuming. I need Lune closed as soon as possible for my sanity’s sake. I will not have Adrien Agreste calling me nightly crying and interrupting my beauty sleep. Why don’t we just lie? Get some regular insects and make them look like the poison ones?”


André blinks, “huh. That’s a much better idea! It’ll save me a fortune too. Alright Chloé, we have less than twelve hours to make this work. I’ll ‘infect’ Lune and every other school in its surrounding area to prevent suspicion.”


“Insects dig into stuff, right? Couldn’t one of them cause a gas leak or fire or something?”


André smiles, “yes, they could. Glad to see being at François Düpont actually has taught you things. I was worried with the way Damocles runs that place.”


“Oh please, Papa! I haven’t learned any of this stuff from school. Sabrina and I watch forensics and murder mysteries during our sleepovers.”


André pauses, not sure how to proceed with that nugget of information, “I... see.” He clears his throat. “We can’t afford to mess anything up Chloé, and I mean that literally.”


“You’re worrying too much. We’re Bourgeois’ Papa, we can do anything!”


André smiles, “that’s my girl.”


🐈 & 🐞


“...I can’t believe—stop the car.” The black towncar pulls up to the curb and Teddy opens the door and hikes up his backpack as he exits. “I... I need to clear my head. I’ll walk the rest of the way.”


“Monsieur Theodoric, it is quite aways left. Madame Elle would not appreciate—”


“Appreciate? ‘Appreciate?’” Teddy angrily turns around. “I—no. It...” He takes a deep breath. “I know it’s not your fault so I’m not mad at you, but tell Madame Elle that I did not ‘appreciate’ being blindsided about you know who just... showing up!” Then he slams the car door and walks off.


With a sigh, Teddy runs a hand through his black hair. Barely out of bed an hour and he’s already having a shit day. Why would his mother think to bring... him here? Last Teddy heard, his maternal cousin was adopted by distant relatives after their grandfather’s death. That was four, maybe five, glorious years ago when Teddy thought he’d seen slash heard the last of him. He was taken to another continent for crying out loud! Hatred is a strong word Teddy only associates with beets and onions, but there is just... something hard to explain about his cousin that rubs Teddy the wrong way in every possible manner, and brings out an ugly side to Teddy he has no interest in exposing to his schoolmates. Having to not only live with but attend school...? It’s more than he can bear. This is his worst nightmare come to life.


Teddy suppresses a shudder. Just thinking about those heterochromatic, soulless eyes freaking out his classmates? [They say every family has one, right? That ‘black sheep?’ The weirdo you avoid at all the family functions? That was Teddy’s cousin; the son of his mother’s older brother who died before Teddy could learn to speak. Perhaps that’s what made his cousin... the way he is? Being moved around from family member to family member?] Whatever. Reasons don’t matter. Teddy will just have to make sure no one knows they’re related in any manner. Thank goodness they have different surnames. (And if anyone comments on them looking alike Teddy can always bullshit about ‘having one of those faces’ bs.)


As if the universe decided it wasn’t done toying with Teddy today, it suddenly begins to rain. Despite the forecast mention a zero percent chance of precipitation.


Teddy grimaces as he feels the rain almost instantly soaking his shoulders and head, even if the rain in question feels a bit... weird. Heavy. Slimy, even. He wipes some rain from his forehead and stares blankly at the bright blue color on his hands. What...? The exact moment he looks up in the sky, he sees a rainbow-colored figure soar overhead. What the hell...?


“Is anyone as excited about this as I am!?” The figure shouts giddily. Then the sky begins pelting hail... that are gumballs alongside the rain. Oh. An akuma. Yeah. He should’ve realized when he saw bright blue “rain.”


“Is it raining candy!?” Teddy sees Southpaw drop down onto the sidewalk across the street from him. She’s holding out her gloved hand feeling the rain and hall fall into her gloved palm. “Do we have to stop this one?” She pops a few gumballs in her mouth and starts chewing. “Not bad.”


People on the street are holding out their hands or opening their mouths to the sky, catching the candy rain.


Hit the deck!” Someone shouts.


The sky suddenly darkens and Teddy looks up and gasps at the humongous bright purple gumdrop falling from the sky... right above him. Well, shit. Other people around him scream. Out the corner of his eye, Teddy sees a blur moving closer then Aegis slides to a stop in front of everyone creating a shield over them. Teddy hears the squelch of the gumdrop hitting the shield then it explodes sending pieces of gumdrop all over the street.


The crowd breathes a huge, collective sigh of relief before cheering for the turtle hero.


Aegis spreads her arms out then the shield, and fortunately all the goo on it, disintegrates. She sighs then turns around. “Might be safer if you cleared the streets.”


“Aegis, look out—!” Someone screams. Aegis looks up at a bright green gumdrop about half the size of the one she just got rid of about to fall on her head. Before she can lift her hands something silver slices the gumdrop in half and the two still in tact pieces land each on one side of the hero.


“That was good timing.”


There are a few gasps. The silver thing – a baton – is being held onto by the cat hero—dammit, what is his name?—who fans the green goo off his baton with a shrug. Teddy blinks. Wow.


Teddy hadn’t paid much (or any) attention to the heroes when that kid attacked the school last week, too busy trying to find a way to find Johnny and escape the mob he somehow accumulated that swarmed him from all sides with their overall mission to “keep him safe.” Now though...? Now he’s gonna pay serious attention. Because, wow, just wow. Holy fuck – this hero, mask and all is beautiful.


The cat hero has messy dark brown hair with green and silver highlights, wearing an all-black leather catsuit with silver seams. There’s a green collar with silver spikes on it and a silver bell attached to it. His boots is silver with black seams. The tip of his ears and tail are green. There are even silver studded earrings at the bottom of his cat ears.


Behind the black mask is a pair of beautiful green eyes with dark green slit pupils.


Southpaw joins her teammates from the opposite sidewalk. People reluctantly begin to scatter, running toward the closest awning, knowing damn well they all won’t fit but be damned if they move any further to miss the heroes in action. Ironically for one Theodoric Altman, the awning he finds himself standing under is Elle Altman’s dance studio. At least he knows he won’t bump into his mother.


“So much for clearing the streets.” Teddy hears. That voice is gonna have a reoccurring role in his daydreams for the foreseeable future. And judging by the audible swooning, he isn’t gonna be the only one.


“Let ‘em watch.” Southpaw replies cracking her knuckles, “they’ll get to see us kick ass in real time.”


The akuma floats down so that they’re hovering over the three heroes (wait, Teddy may not have paid attention but he does know there was more than three), “aww.” They pout, “that’s no fun. I just wanna share all the candy I got!”


“‘Share?’” Southpaw tilts her head to the right. “Wait a sec—? You’re a happy akuma?!”


“I’m so happy right now! That new candy store is just the greatest! I got free candy just for being the tenth person who walked inside!”


Aegis frowns, “thought the baby was just a fluke, but I’m guessing Monarque can use any emotion for an akuma.”


“Are you for real?” Southpaw growls, “oh. That sick son of a bitch is going down.” She points up at the akuma, “listen up, Pal. If your wayward candy weather wrecks that new candy store before I’ve had a chance to go in there, you’re gonna meet the business end of my fists!”


The akuma tsks, “such a sour attitude. Ah! I have just the remedy~” The akuma snaps their fingers. The action has the goo rain and gumdrop hail stop completely; three seconds later, it begins raining sprinkles. “Here’s the extra sweet kind~”


“I hate sprinkles.” Hex mutters.


Southpaw gasps, “how can you hate sprinkles?! They’re nature’s—” Southpaw opens her mouth to catch a sprinkle then immediately recoils. She sticks her tongue out panting and fanning it off, “haw—haut!” She tries to blow on her tongue.


“You must’ve gotten the flavor that suits your mood, Little Mouse.”


She glares up at the akuma. With a sigh, Aegis creates a shield over the three of them. “I’d really appreciate if you didn’t do that again.”


Southpaw sighs. “Ah swaont.”


The akuma sighs, “this is boring. I want to share my candy!”


“You’re mucking up the whole city.” Aegis argues.


“But it’s free candy! Who doesn’t want that?”


“Did you even taste the candy you’re creating?” Hex asks.


The akuma blinks then frowns thoughtfully. However, before they can open their mouth the butterfly mask outline appears over their face briefly. When the outline disappears, the akuma beams. “I haven’t. Why not be my official taste testers?”


“Huck zhat—!” Southpaw wraps one end of her jumprope around the akuma’s foot.


“Ah! Let me go!”


“Not happening.” Aegis pops the bubble shield around her team then creates a new one around the akuma. They gasp then start screaming and banging their fists against the bubble shield.


Southpaw squeals, “you—” She gasps, “I can talk normal again!” With a sigh of relief, she squeals again. “Aegis, you’re so awesome! I didn’t know you could bubble people?”


“I can bubble anything, evidently.”


“They can breathe, right?”


“Well, I mean...” Aegis glances at Hex giving a one-shoulder shrug, “unconscious equals no more akuma...”


The mask outline reappears over the akuma’s eyes, “you’ll be sorry for this!” They scream as they continue banging relentlessly.


“And now we’re dealing with a pissed akuma.” Southpaw says with a sigh.


A portal appears and the horse hero flips out of it then gets from a crouch and flips their hair. Like last time, onlookers on the street swoon. “Must you do that every time?”


“Jealous?”


Aegis rolls her eyes. “Hardly.”


“Every hero needs a signature entrance~”


“Have you come here to take the akuma after we’ve done all the work again?”


“I think you’re jealous I got this kickass Miraculous and you’re stuck with bubbles.” The horse pokes Aegis in the cheek and she growls then the shield deteriorates.


They both gasp then the akuma creates a giant flan and hurls it in their direction. Hex chucks his baton at the flan splitting it in two and having it both pieces land around them. Aegis slaps the horse’s hand away, “you fucking moron! I had the damn akuma! I need to concentrate to keep my shields up.”


“Aww, didn’t realize I was so distracting.” Aegis creates a bubble shield around the horse then kicks it away.


“You’re distractingly annoying!”


Hex picks up his baton then looks over his shoulder, “if you two can’t hate each other and work together, I’m gonna split you up.”


“I don’t hate Teenage Miraculous No Fun over there. At least I didn’t before she trapped me in this damn bubble! Let me out!”


“You got the ‘better’ Miraculous, right? Why don’t you have some fun portalling yourself out?”


“That’s it! Aegis, go with Southpaw.” Aegis turns to him wide-eyed behind her goggles, “go.” Scowling, Aegis folds her arms over her chest as she starts to walking in the opposite direction, “and will you let her out of your shield? I swear this is worse than dealing with my little brothers.”


Aegis snaps her fingers and the shield disintegrates. The horse flails a bit before falling on her face. “I’m gonna kill her—”


Will you three help me!?” Southpaw screams as the akuma is flying around with Southpaw holding onto the jumprope wrapped around their left ankle.


“Why are you still holding onto that?” Aegis yells.


“I wasn’t, I grabbed him again!” Southpaw screams.


The akuma flies in a zig-zag pattern then loop de loops and does all sorts of spinning moves until Southpaw lets go. She screams flying in the air until Aegis creates a shield that she falls into. Aegis sighs in relief, accidentally breaking the shield causing Southpaw to fall on the horse. The rainbow, cotton candy akuma hovers over Aegis and Hex, butterfly mask appears over their eyes. “Oh my. Teamwork not going so well, huh?” Monarque’s voice taunts, “don’t worry your pretty little masked heads, you won’t be holding onto your Miraculouses for much longer.”


The horse gets up inadvertently causing Southpaw to roll off her and onto the sidewalk. She stomps over to Aegis, “you’re a real bitch, you know that?”


“Takes one to know one.”


Before the horse can step closer, Hex holds out his baton in front of him and extends it so that one end is near each girl. “Stay this far apart from each other or so help me—”


“Relax, Hex, nothing would make me happier.”


“I’m more than fine keeping distance from that knock-off Ninja Turtle. By the way, Hex, I’m going by Shroud. Seemed appropriate.”


“How you’re nowhere to be found unless you’re fucking something up? Yeah, it fits.”


“As entertaining as this is, I’m gonna need your Miraculouses.” The akuma traps the three of them in a bubble of bubblegum that forces the three of them closer together. “Don’t know why Monarque wants your Miraculi? Miraculous? Miraculous’? Miraculouses...?, and he didn’t tell me what the Miraculouses were.” The akuma shrugs, “oh well. Once you pass out from the lack of oxygen, I’ll search your bodies!”


“How are they saying that so cheerfully?” Aegis asks.


Hex’s left hand starts glowing. “Wait.” Shroud puts her right arm in front of him, “I got this.” Shroud unclips the horseshoe that was in her ponytail then shakes it. She flips Aegis off before hopping into the portal that closed behind her.


Aegis screams, “God, she’s so immature!”


“You’re keeping pace with her.” Aegis turns to Hex who shrugs, “you’re supposed to be the level-headed one, remember?”


“How can anyone keep a leveled head around someone that fucking obnoxious?” Aegis takes her shell off then slices the bubble in half with it. “Heads up, Asshole!” Hex ducks as Aegis spins with her shell until she lobs it at the akuma. Just before Aegis’ shell can hit the akuma a portal opens and Shroud exits. “Oh fuck!” Hex covers his face as the shell hits Shroud knocking her back into the portal that closes. “That was not on purpose!”


“I have an idea!” Hex glances at the Southpaw sitting on his shoulder whispering in his ear.


“Alright. I need a bubble.” Aegis warily creates a small bubble shield and several Southpaws jump in it. Hex’s left hand starts glowing coating the bubble with magic, then he throws the shield that hits the akuma in the forehead. The shield explodes and the Southpaws merge into one and she tackles the akuma to the ground. “Huh. Didn’t know that was her plan.”


“I thought she had to jumprope to return to normal size!?” Hex shrugs in reply.


Southpaw wraps her jumprope around the akuma’s neck. “You gave me a migraine! You’re making my team fight each other! You’re gonna make us late for school! And your gum lost its flavor way too fast! I’m pissed enough to get akumatized myself so you’d better tell me where your damn akuma is!”


Whimpering, the akuma shakily moves their right hand toward Southpaw. “I-It’s in the gumdrop bracelet.” Southpaw punches the bracelet and it shatters causing the akuma to fly free. Before it can infect Southpaw, Aegis traps it in a bubble shield then creates another shield over that shield. The purplish-black ooze breaks the transformation of the kid and Southpaw gets up then angrily turns to her teammates.


“I haven’t seen teamwork this bad since those old-school videos of the first fights of the X-Men! You and whatever she’s calling herself, need to work on your teamwork Aegis.”


Aegis scoffs, “fuck that. I’m not working on shit. She is the unprofessional clown, not me, and where the fuck is the ladybug? He didn’t show up again. That’s twice now. Is he on vacation or something?”


“The snake didn’t show up either.” Southpaw adds.


The three of them unlatch their communicators from their belts and look down at them. The only colored triangles are the three of theirs, not even Shroud’s is there. “Guess we can only communicate when they’re Miraculous is active?” Aegis guesses.


“I guess the bigger question is... who is cleaning up all this candy?” Hex says looking at the state of the street, covered with discarded confections.


🐈 & 🐞


Shroud falls out of her portal into the alley behind the comic shop. “Kaalki, dismount.” The horse kwami floats out her right lens of the glasses Miraculous the transformation breaks then shakes herself before flying to America. Kaalki opens her arms out wide creating a portal that envelopes America, then the two of them are inside the shop.


America doesn’t know whether the damn magical glasses gave her astigmatism or highlighted the ailment she already had but words became blurry whenever she read anything up close. And as she was living in a comic book shop, that quickly became tiresome.


Groaning, she sits up. Kaalki gasps. “Are you alright? How dare that ...Testudine assault you like this!” America winces as Kaalki pats her forehead and her paws come away red. “Master Fù!” She screams.


Whistling, Fù comes out of the backroom with a grey lotus shaped box that has hanzi written all over it. “Oh!” He sets the box down on the counter then walks over to America. “You’re injured.”


Kaalki flies over to Fù. “Wayzz’s hatchling did this!” All the other kwamis, minus the ladybug, are all floating around the Guardian concerned. The ladybug kwami, Tikki, hadn’t moved much since his partner split. The other kwamis, Kaalki included, tried cheering him up but nothing worked. The Guardian stated Tikki’s mood was caused by the beginning of a bond forming then getting abruptly cut like it was, and that his former partner would probably be just as morose. “This ‘Aegis’ needs to be swiftly reprimanded for intentionally injuring my Intended! Just look at what that monster did. This is an injury that’ll scar her beautiful face!” She flies back over to America and gestures to the long gash across the brunette’s forehead.


“Oh dear. And you’re saying Aegis did this deliberately?”


Kaalki nods nuzzling America’s face, “naturally! She’s jealous of how great my Intended is coming into her own and she wants her out of the picture!”


“That does not sound like Aegis—”


“How would you know? You didn’t even properly test her! You just tossed a Miraculous at some random kid! What if she’s not a right fight for Wayzz? What if she’s a danger to the entire unit?”


“Calm down, Kaalki. I will meet with Aegis, as soon as I discover her identity, and get a sense of the type of Miraculous user she is.”


You don’t even know who she is!?


“As you said, I simply ‘tossed a Miraculous at some kid’ and hoped it stuck.” Kaalki facepalms. “They were behind the counter so I did not see their face. I also do not know Hex’s identity yet, just in case you were curious.”


“Uh... isn’t the suit supposed to protect me from getting scraped up?”


Fù lolls his head from side to side, “to a certain degree, yeah.”


“‘To a certain degree.’” America repeats, deadpan, “of course. Shoulda read the fine print.”


Orikko flies over to America with the first-aid kit and begins treating her wound. “Did you at least retrieve the akuma?” America’s scowl is enough of an answer, and Fù knows it’s not because of the disinfectant Orikko sprayed on her wound. “Tikki. Someone find Tikki and have him search for the akuma.”


“Don’t you think the akuma might attach itself to Tikki’s sorrow and corrupt him?” Fluff asks.


Fù pauses, “Xuppu, go find Tikki and search for the akuma together.” The monkey kwami salutes then flies toward the backroom.


“Master, I’m gonna...” Ziggy jerks her head toward the doorway Xuppu flew down and Fù nods. Nodding, the goat kwami flies after Xuppu.


“While you were out dealing with the akuma I did some cleaning. Found some trinkets I could sell. Would it be odd if I sold magical objects along with comic books?”


“Not if the objects went with the comic books.”


Fù’s eyes widen in realization. “Oh! That’s good. I’ll just have to make sure none of the objects are capable of causing insurmountable chaos. I also managed to find Miraculouses thought to be lost. Take this for example!” Fù opens the lotus box and pulls out a brown and grey feathered quill. America takes a step back as a small ball of light begins glowing near the feather then a small brown bird...thing spins into existence. “Quill, the ostrich kwami.” The kwami spits out a black seed, “and his kwagatama.”


The kwamis all fly over to the bird in a group hug. “Pleasure to return to service, Guardian.” Once everyone separates, Quill holds out the seed to Fù who accepts it and inclines his head.


“We have not seen you since... the unpleasantness. I am happy to see you are well.”


“Likewise, Guardian. Though I must express some concerns. After the last bit of... unpleasantness, I remember being forced back into my Miraculous but I do not know how I was not forced back into my original Miracle Box with the power of the wish being finalized.”


“‘Wish?’ What wish?” America asks.


“There is a certain ...process that involves granting one’s greatest desire. The sages devised it but taught the kwamis nothing on how it worked.”


“That’s shitty.”


“Indeed.” Fù agrees, “I believe it was an attempt at a failsafe that went wrong.”


Quill turns to Fluff, “you were involved with the wish directly, do you remember?”


Fluff shakes her head, “like you, the last thing Sass and I remember is being forced back into our Miraculouses then our Miracle Box.” She frowns, “you could always ask your partner?”


Quill nods, “you’re right...” He flinches, “u-unless it might be... unpleasant for you, Master?”


“Unpleasant, you said?” Fù sighs heavily, “we must all deal with unpleasantness in our lives, Quill. Hurdles make us stronger. Yada yada. Struggle builds character; etc... disclaimer. So on and so forth.” He massages his temples.


“I am officially out of the loop.” America says.


“Apologies.” Quill states flying over to America, “Master Fù’s older brother Shin is a Sage and my partner. He did not believe Master Fù capable of becoming a Guardian and voiced it regularly.” America whistles. “For decades they fought constantly. Master Shin even sabotaged Master Fù’s chances at becoming a full-fledged Guardian several times. The most recent... unpleasant situation involved Master Shin stealing Master Fù’s Miracle Box then had that same Miracle Box stolen by the man who eventually made the wish.”


“And I thought my last foster family were assholes.” America mutters, “are you one-hundred percent sure a dude made the wish?”


Quill nods, “a young man. I can’t recall his face, but I can recall seeing striking blue eyes right before getting sucked back into my Miraculous. Blue eyes are very common.”


“Not to mention a ‘young man’ is any age before thirty.” Orikko mutters. “And almost forty years passed. While we know they’re still alive we could be looking at a guy between the ages of fifty and seventy-five. If my math is even remotely correct.”


“Have I made things worse?” Quill shrinks in on himself.


“Not at all. You’ve given us more than we previously knew.” Quill smiles at Fù. “I will video call my brother and hope he does not answer. In the meantime, I have a task specifically for you Mlle. Chavez.”


“I don’t like the sound of that.”


“It’s nothing frightful I assure you...” Fù pauses, “although...” America grimaces, “no, no.” He shakes his head. “It’s fine. I noticed, or rather felt, a large concentration of magical energy surrounding Collège François Düpont.”


“You mean that school all over the news with the dick-headed coward of a principal that’s the mayor’s left-hand toady?”


“Not... exactly as colorful as I would have described, but yes to all of that. That same school. I ...began scouting for a new ladybug around the school when I felt the magic.”


America raises an eyebrow. “Does Tikki know you’re looking into partnering him up again?”


“I don’t mean to sound callous, but I’m not particularly interested in Tikki’s feelings on the matter. Tikki needs to get onto the field as soon as possible. Don’t get me wrong, I grew fond of ...the ladybug user I selected rather quickly. His methods to keep from getting akumatized at the hypermarket were as ingenious as they were amoral. Nothing would make me happier than to see him return, but—I have not seen him returning.” Fù frowns, “I know my foresight abilities are limited, so there is a slim chance he could return but we cannot leave it to chance. Every time Plagg goes out there without Tikki it strains their bond. Which reminds me...” Fù rubs the back of his neck, “I need to find a partner for Fluff or I’d be a huge hypocrite.”


“So what am I gonna do at the school?”


“Investigate the sources of magic. In layman’s terms, I’m going to enroll you into the school.”


“Aw fuck. Really?”


“You’d have a much better chance of fitting in than I would. If you were to skulk around the school it would lead to suspicion, so you have to be on the inside.”


America grins at him and Fù looks taken aback, “actually, I think this is something we should investigate together .” Fù eyes her warily, “have more eyes looking out and etcetera. I’ll go to school as a student, if you go in as a professeur.”


“What could I possibly teach? Magic? How to sell comic books? I don’t have a license—’


“You can get one over the internet.” Fù furrows his eyebrows, “I’m not budging on this, man. I will not enter that hellhole alone...” Kaalki pointedly clears her throat, “dammit Kaalki, you know what I mean.”


“What about the shop?”


“You can always open it after school.”


Fù frowns, “school.” He sighs heavily, “alright, Mlle. Chavez, we’ll do things your way. I’ll see what François Düpont has to offer then fill in whatever role I can. After that, I get my necessary online degree.”


🐈 & 🐞


Vice Principal Bustier called the entire school to the assembly hall for a mandatory, emergency assembly before first period. On her way to the train station, Rose saw the streets covered in brightly colored confections. (She also saw some kids try to eat the aforementioned confections right off the street. Which, ewww. Free candy is one thing, but eating off the rarely cleaned streets is quite another.) The train was stuck at her stop for ten minutes because some of the akuma’s gooey candy seeped down onto the station. She’s certain if it landed on the track she’d still be stuck. Surprisingly, the akuma attack ended about twenty minutes before the school day officially began; so, even with the train delay, Rose wasn’t late for school.


This year, Rose was fortunate enough to be in the same homeroom as her best friend, Juleka. The past three years here they weren’t so lucky. Not being in the same class as Chloé this year was exceptionally lucky, but she was still in the same class as Sabrina; this makes the fourth year in a row.


Meeting up with Juleka at her locker, the two girls make their way to the assembly hall. As usual, the taller teen is decked out from head to toe in cool tones. Her pullover hoodie is all dark blue and her long skirt (or dress?) is black. Her backpack is all black with little bat wings at the sides. Last year, the school declared a no hat rule so Juleka could no longer wear her hood over her head. Lisa Düpont made sure to get Damocles to fine tune that rule so she could continue wearing her hijab to school. If there is one thing Damocles is known for... it’s being a kissass that does not argue with wealthy students. Chloé and Sabrina aren’t the only rich students Damocles gives leeway to; they’re just the two biggest infractors. Now given Lisa Düpont is the great-whatever to one of this collège’s co-founders who she shares a given name with as well? Yeah. The Düponts have money, more than the Bourgeois’, so Damocles was not gonna argue. Hell, no one was gonna argue since they’re one of the three richest families in the city. Rose looks up at Juleka putting on some dark purple glossy lipgloss. “I never understood why you don’t just go full-on gloth.”


“I like to...” The purple-haired teen pauses furrowing her visible ringless eyebrow, “full what?”


“Gloth. G-L-O-T-H. Glamour goth. Goth... but sparkly!”


“Why is everything sparkles with you?” Rose wordlessly points to the multi-colored highlights in her hair. “I’m sure if hair dye came out in glitter you’d get it.”


“Of course I would!” She gasps, “ooh! Should I patent that?”


“Might wanna test it out first.”


When they find a couple of empty seats in the back of the assembly hall, Rose opens her purse and takes out a tube of glitter then slathers it on her hands and runs her fingers through her hair. Juleka stares at her in horror.

The red-haired vice principal taps on the microphone and the feedback has the whole assembly hall cringing. “Good morning students!” The echo has the woman grimacing then tapping the microphone, “today...” The feedback causes her to make a face. A student walks on the stage with a new microphone, attaching it to the microphone stand, then walks away with the old microphone. “Test...?” When there’s no echo or feedback the woman sighs in relief. “Good morning students!” She pauses, presumably for some kind of response but gets none. “Today marks the first official full week of school! I have two important pieces of big news regarding this school year! First: After lunch, your homeroom professeurs will speak to you about the student union. Much like your class representatives, we will have representatives speaking for the needs of the entire student body.” Rose and Juleka exchange a glance. “The selection process is similar, however the entire school will cast the deciding votes in an assembly later in the week. Now onto the second piece of news. Due to the nature of these... akuma attacks...” All the students in the assembly hall surrounding him, turn to that Adrien kid Rose slapped last week, glaring. He’s seated at the opposite end of the row behind theirs in between Chloé and Sabrina. Both girls make shooing motions at the students as the green-eyed blond slinks down in his seat.


Oh great. When her mamans showed her the “apology” video that sounded more like Gabriel Agreste was blaming everyone and everything but himself for his son being the way he is. Rose thought when Gabriel Agreste said his son was to attend this collège he’d do it later in the year, not like right now. Hopefully he won’t be in their class. If he’s “friends” with Chloé Bourgeois, there is a pretty high chance of him being in Chloé’s class. If so, then it’s not Rose’s problem this school year.


“...we will implement akuma safety drills. These drills will be similar enough to our fire and earthquake safety drills. We hope. We will do all we can to ensure the safety of every student here at François Düpont, whether they become akumas or not. We will share the full details with you and your families when we have them. Now, onto a pleasant surprise! Today we have an extra special guest kicking off the school week! Please join me in welcoming Paris’ own rising star and François Düpont alum, Clara Nightingale!” The assembly hall breaks out into uproarious chanting of the singer’s name as the pink-haired teen idol dances her way up the stairs onto the stage.


“Hello, hello~” She sing-songs taking the microphone off the stand. The crowd continues to chant until Clara gestures for them to lower the noise, “I’ve still yet to become accustom to such a warm welcome! Today, I’m not just here to sing. Although that is my thing. Today my presence, is to talk to you all about acceptance—” For the second time in three minutes, the students in the surrounding area glare at the blond who sighs in resignation, “—it doesn’t matter who you are or the place that is home calls. Hatred and prejudice have no business in these halls! We are all here trying to learn, to see, trying to be the best versions of ourselves we can be! I would have been a lost little duckling unable to spread a wing. Had it not been for the phenomenal spur from Professeur Piper.” The assembly hall applaud when the aforementioned art professeur raises their hand in the air. “I would hate for short-sighted individuals with intentions so grey to blow someone’s chance of finding their way. Or worse, becoming one with such bothers that use their own insecurity and ignorance to spread their misery onto others. You are the generation of go-getters that will change the world for the better! Lend me your ear, we cannot and will not let one person ruin the school year!” The crowd cheers, “it is time to unfurl, we won’t let one person blanket the positivity from our world! End the strife! Cut the toxicity from your life! Freeing your soul is our primary goal! Stay on track. Fight back!” Clara shouts and the crowd cheers louder.


No! No, no, no—!” The vice principal snatches the microphone from Clara and the crowd boos, “there will be no fighting and no fighting back!” She says into the microphone before putting her hand over it, “you are expressly forbidden from singing that song here.” She hisses, “that is the furthest thing from acceptance. Are you trying to start a riot?”


No!” Clara takes the microphone back from the vice principal who stares at her wide-eyed, “I am not trying to start a riot, though I refuse to be quiet. I’m starting a revolution! That is the only solution!” Clara turns back to the crowd. “Add fire to the fuel! Rule the school! Let me hear your roars! Take back what is yours!”


“Never surrender!” The crowd responds. “Bring the pressure!”


“What are you doing!?” Bustier gasps.


The pink-haired teen side eyes the vice principal. “What you should have. This school is in dire need of a salve. The school is for the students first and foremost. You lost your integrity, Caline. You’ve become engrossed. The majority of your staff is compromised. To my horror and surprise. Slack-jawed gremlins poised in position to blindly follow an ill-suited leader and crooked politician. You made your choice so I will use my voice. I have not lost sight and will not turn a blind eye to the students who are in need of a guiding light!”


Clara


“—What do you think teaching your students that acceptance is expected from them, but tolerance is not expected from others will stem? What have you all become? This is not the François Düpont I graduated from! You sold your souls to achieve your goals. You and a few choice colleagues scrounge for extra days of paid vacation and cushy seats in the faculty lounge!”


“—Clara—”


“—You attempt to have my time here diminished when I am not even close to finished—”


“That is enough, Mlle. Nightingale.” Damocles marches his way on stage, holding another microphone, and the assembly hall boos. “I believe you have overstayed your welcome.” The boos intensify.


“Is that right? Well, aren’t you a sight? Your principal is trying to silence your word but it is not my voice that must be heard! It is not a crime nor unrefined to speak your mind!”


“Never surrender!” The crowd repeats. “Bring the pressure!”


Damocles motions for the security guards behind him to advance. Everyone stops and looks around when the lights cut out, then a spotlight shines on Clara with her eyes closed holding the microphone, “this the song your vice principal feared. So let me make my intentions clear.” She says into the microphone, “pressurize.” Clara opens her eyes, “now here’s the reprise!” The crowd starts humming along the appropriate tune. Even as security carry Clara off the stage, she continues to sing into the microphone.


🐈 & 🐞


Nadia fidgets in her seat looking out the window of the jet. “You can always change your mind.” The redhead in the seat across from the brunette says without lifting her head from her laptop.


“N-No...” The brunette takes a deep breath, “I want—no, I need to do this, Janet.” Her response causes the redhead to look up. “I want you to know I appreciate everything you’ve done for me since we’ve met. Taking me in. Adopting me. I will always be eternally grateful to have you in my life.”


“My mascara isn’t cryproof, Pupa.” Janet waves her hands in front of her eyes, “and you make it sound like we’ll never see each other again! I’ll only be a twelve hour plane ride away! Or if I find someone who knows how to portal, it’ll be even shorter! You’re not getting no getting rid of me so easily.”


Nadia chuckles, “I’d hope not.”


“What’s the deal with this ‘Lune’ school anyway? It’s in Paris, France. Which, I will admit, is better than Paris, Texas – which was where I originally thought of when you said the word Paris. Although the flight would be about half the time. Do you even speak French?”


Nadia nods, “it’s one of the nine languages Red Room taught me.”

“Nine, huh? You’d think an assassins’ guild would be more well-rounded than that. My finishing school taught me ten languages. What else does Paris have to offer that DC doesn’t? Is it because of that magical supervillain who weaponizes people’s emotions then uses them against the general public? Because I gotta say, that’s not good for anyone’s mental health.”


“Those attacks no different than what Enchantress does every Thursday.”


“True.” Janet frowns, “so tell me about this school? I take it the place isn’t any ordinary art school?”


“It’s in the top three best art schools in the world, and it just opened last year! It has every form of art ever explained and a few new ones! But best of all is the science program. Every conceivable science safe enough to perform in a classroom setting! Lune is the only school of it’s kind and depending on its success, other schools like it will be built all over the globe.”


“Well, that answered my next question.” Janet sighs, “you do you, Little Wings. If your heart is set on this I can call in a favor from Camilla.” She pauses, “or do I owe her a favor?” Another pause, “either way, I’ll make the call. Camilla has two great-grand—? Step-grand—?” Janet makes a face, “—she has two grandkids of her late sister and sister-in-law she’s looking after since their death almost two years ago now.” Nadia nods with a hum.


“Mme. van Dyne, we have arrived in Paris airspace.” The pilot says over the comm-system. “Hear what I said there? I called you madame. Can we get macarons before we go back to DC?”


“Come on Jay, you damn well know the answer to that will always be yes.” The pilot cheers then shuts off the comms. “I know! Before dumping you off at your fancy new school, why don’t we take in some sights? There is this talented little designer I’ve been keeping tabs on. She goes by MDC and she happens to live in the boulangerie pâtissèrie with the best macarons on the planet! Laura McKinney goes there every time she comes to Paris.”


“Laura? Isn’t she on the no-fly list?”


“No Honeybee. Well, I mean yes she is, but I said Laura McKinney. She’s a food writer. Ooh! This’ll be a great trip. I can do my two favorite things at once at the same place! Watching a genius at work and eat some of the treasures my ma grew up with and shared with me before her death. Huh. And now I’m gonna share those same treasures with my daughter. Full circle.”


Nadia sits up with a gasp looking up from her phone, “this McKinney lady is Audrey Bourgeois’ older sister! Why didn’t you lead with that?”


Janet rolls her eyes with a groan. “Audrey Durand. My mistake, Durand Bourgeois now. Nadia, My Darling Sunbeam, I didn’t introduce you to the wonders of fashion so you could laud one of my fashion nemesis...es.”


“Nemeses, and you two have vastly different styles! Besides, how could you not love her backpack collection? And she has a new collection coming in the spring that she named after her daughter.”


Janet huffs a laugh, “yeah, right. Okay. You want truth? That woman named her daughter after a wine.”


“Why do you hate her?”


“I don’t hate anyone, Nadia,” Janet pauses, “except maybe Enchantress,” Another pause, “and possibly Xavier. Point is, Audrey and I have ...issues because she has an issue with me being from Jersey!” Nadia tilts her head to the left, “I shit you not. Being a genius, I skipped a grade before it became taboo to so. I was like two years younger than all my classmates in beauty school. Being unfairly short did not necessarily work in my favor. Being smaller and younger, all the other girls looked down on me. I was working the stripes angle long before becoming Wasp and that became my thing. Audrey let her designs do the talking, which I respected. And she had her own putting gold in everything design. We never hung out or anything but we were assigned to work on a project together. I mentioned how I couldn’t wait to get back home and she scoffed, Nadia. Scoffed! Can you believe that? I’ve been taking so much shit from New Yorkers my whole life. Especially from ‘upper side’ snobs, looking down on my state! Do you hear about supervillain attacks in Jersey? No! Because people from Jersey have class! We don’t have Doom and all his goth metal! We don’t have The Fantastic Four’s tacky matching onesies; I feel so sorry for Sue. She’s an astrophysicist for fuck’s sake! She does not deserve to run around in a rubber blue onesie!” Janet takes a deep breath, “sorry. I have a lot of ...feelings about their outfit choice. Anyway, we definitely and thankfully do not have Doctor Strange doing ...Doctor Strange things! And we damn sure don’t have Tony Stark threatening to rip open the fabric of the universe every time he comes upon someone smarter than him!”


“Uh... didn’t you date Tony Stark?”


Janet groans, “don’t remind me. I used to have such questionable taste. It’s why I left New York. Toxicity central.” She shudders, “God, that relationship was about as bad as the one I had with Ha—hahaha.” Janet loudly clears her throat then looks back down at her laptop.


“Haha... oh! I know you and Hank didn’t have the healthiest or stablest of relationships, Janet. It’s okay for you to talk about him around me. Positive or negative. He made his decision and I made mine.”


“And really, it’s his loss because you’re a kickass kid. I mean, you’re a baby assassin for goodness sake! Who would not want to have you around? But what could you expect from such a goddamn weenie! He was one of those giant weenies on the street corner that promote their business with the wearable signs?” Nadia nods slowly. Clearly, Janet has thought about this. “I can come up with new terms to describe exactly how much of a weenie Henry Pym was... but we’re gonna land soon so I’ll save it for another time.”


“How did you two meet?”


“Science convention. My old man was one of those ‘poor’ scientists that often had his work overlooked or even stolen. I started making clothes in my...” She coughs into her fist, “redacted, and bought my dad his first real lab when I had enough money. Pym was at the convention blabbing about his whatever. I initially ignored him because I didn’t want to be there. But then when he and my dad started working together I saw him more and more and unfortunately developed a crush on him. When my dad was kidnapped after one of his inventions was stolen, I asked Pym to help me. He said no because I was ‘too young’ so I stole his Pym particles and injected them into myself and went after the kidnappers. When Pym caught up to me, after I already handled everything by myself, he lectured me about a whole bunch of stuff then he helped me get the hang of things. Once I had my powers down, I became Wasp. I convinced him to superhero-up with me and he was Ant-Man. I think? We didn’t date right away because he kept viewing me as too young.”


“Uh... what was the age difference between you two?”


“Holy hell, I don’t even know.” Janet taps her chin, “if I’d have to guess... I’d say about in the ten to fifteen years range, maybe? See. People are attracted to me because I’m that lovable air-headed self-made millionaire socialite. They seem to gloss over the fact that I have three PhDs in science and another three in fashion designing. Plus, you know, my father is a damn physicist and space scientist who taught me well.”


“I’m sorry. Forgive me for interrupting, but you have three PhDs in fashion designing?”


“I never joke about fashion, Nadia.”


“Noted.”


“I was very dedicated.” Nadia nods, “and still am. I’m seen as an air-headed fashion designer, right? Still sorta am, sadly. Back in my serial dating days, when I said something some constant hair-color-changing bimbo has no business knowing I got dumped.”


“How awful!”


“Yeah. I wasn’t like persistently coming onto Pym or anything. Hell, I left him alone after he rejected me even as he and my dad continued working together. I don’t know what caused him to change his view of me. Maybe it was pity. But I know I wasn’t as into him as I was when before the rejection but I don’t even know what made me say yes. I know I was still an air-head to Pym as well as the ‘young’ scientist. I never deluded myself into thinking I would ever be that bitch and change the person I was into. On the other hand, I wasn’t gonna stay with an asshole who doesn’t even bother paying attention to me. Maybe he thought he was doing me a favor or maybe he liked the idea of dating me more than physically dating me. I’m just grateful we never got married.” Janet wipes her forehead, “dodged a bullet there.”


“Weren’t you two engaged?”


“For two years. I thought of breaking up with him, but then he proposed and, again, I don’t know what made me say yes. Probably only put a ring on my finger to keep me around like an empty trophy case. Eventually, even supervillains started feeling sorry for me! That is when you know you need to put an end to shit.” Nadia makes a face. “oh no. Don’t worry. I put all that behind me. Looking back distracts you from seeing what’s ahead.” Janet cracks her knuckles, “having said that, if that motherfucker ever shows his face unprompted, I will blast him with these very same Pym particles he created.” She leans back in her seat with a smile. “Wow. How long did I have all that bottled up? Your therapist was right about getting everything off your chest.” Janet leans forward, “is there anything you want to rant about? I’m all ears.”


“Uh, no. I’m good but thank you.”


“Anytime. Ooh! I should ask Ororo if she wants anything~” Janet giggles to herself.


“What about Thor?”


“Hm? Oh.” Janet waves off Nadia’s concerned look, “I didn’t forget about him, Larvae. It’s just... Thor will eat almost anything whereas Ororo has a more refined, distinguished palate.” Janet shivers, “ooh. Just thought of a dirty joke. Gotta write it down before I forget.” Janet begins typing on her laptop.


Both Janet and Nadia’s phones ping at the same time. “Uh, boss...?” The pilot warns.


“One second. I don’t wanna lose my train of thought.”


“Sure, take your time. I do not think this is going anywhere.”


“And... done! Alright, what is...?” Janet picks up her phone then unlocks it. “What the fuck is this? Is this live? Why do the streets look like Delfino Plaza?’


“Huh. You’re right! They do!” The pilot replies laughing.


“Dell-fin-what?”


“Delfino Plaza.” Janet repeats. “It’s from Super Mario Sunshine; which I just realized, as I spoke the name, is before you were born. Let’s see, fourteen and twenty-twenty...? Yeah. Four years before you were born.” Janet skims the article on her phone, “motherfucking fuck. An ‘akuma’ made the streets filled with confections. What’s an ‘akuma?’”


“Akumas are what the magical butterflies that corrupt people’s emotions are called.” Nadia replies. Gasping, she holds the phone closer to her face. “The mayor has declared this akuma attack to be a ‘city-wide’ emergency.” Nadia’s eyes widen as she moves the phone back, “Oh no! Lune... it’s been temporarily closed down due to the akuma attack!”


“What? Oh hell no! We did not come all this way for nothing.”


🐈 & 🐞


The intercom crackles to life. “Attention students, this is Principal Damocles with an important announcement.” The man loudly clears his throat over the intercom, “as I am sure most of you are already aware, around six this morning there was an akuma attack in the fifteenth arrondissement.” Furrowing their eyebrows, Rose and Juleka stop walking then look up at the ceiling; as do several other students in the hallway. Rose notices Chloé and Sabrina among the crowd. “While the akuma’s candy weather has impacted the entire city, the origin of the attack appears to have it the worst. Several buildings in the arrondissement were forced to shut down due to being covered... in confections. One of these buildings... was Lune Collège of Arts.” Gasping in disbelief, Sabrina puts a hand over her mouth as she shakes her head. Chloé also puts a hand over her mouth to hide her disbelief, though – looking around – her disbelief may not be the same disbelief as her schoolmates’. This... This is even better than an infestation! Hell, this is even better than Chloé could have hoped for! Akuma attacks have caused thousands of euros in damages over the course of the past few weeks.


Her hotel was still repairing everything Balance sliced in half in her rage. Baker Street has the huge hole in the middle of the street where the giant akuma baby sat down to watch the impromptu puppet show. The hallway that akumadrien showed up in is littered with holes and blocked off by do not enter tape.


Hmm. Chloé has to wonder if her father went ahead and put the spiders in the school. Not like he could’ve predicted an akuma attack was gonna happen. Although given how this is the new normal, he should’ve anticipated one would be happening soon. Oh well. If he did plant the “poisonous” spiders, perhaps Lune will stay closed longer?


“—As Lune was just beginning their school year, like many other collèges in the city, an agreement was made.” Damocles pauses, probably for some kind of cheap dramatic effect, but Chloé already knows what he’s gonna say. Thank goodness too. Clara Nightingale was right about this school’s dire need for a salve, but it’s not the professeurs who are the problem. Okay. That’s not... entirely true. A lot of professeurs here suck, but they aren’t the only problem with this place. New blood, new talented blood will drown out the overwhelming ignorance Chloé has been subjected to for the past three fucking years. Not to mention with all the new students coming in, everyone will forget about Adrien’s... discriminatory faux pas. Hopefully.


Chloé glances at Sabrina who is staring at one of the intercoms in anticipation. Due to the assembly, Chloé didn’t get to finish telling her best friend about her idea. Although there may no longer be a need to do so, “...we will be temporarily housing several Lune students until their collège is safe to reopen.” The news gets mixed reactions from the hallway. “...I— Oh? I just received word that buses full of students are on their way here.” There’s a pause, “wait, did I read that correctly?” There’s an indistinct voice over the intercom, “there’s no way. What!? They’re... Oh my! I-I need to present myself to greet them!”


“Principal Damocles, the intercom is still on.”


“What? Is it? Dammit, this is just what I need...”
There’s some rustling in the background before the intercom promptly shuts off.


Students begin talking among themselves.


“I-I can’t believe it,” Sabrina says in awe. “We’re... We’re...” She furrows her eyebrows, “we’re gonna be sharing our school with students from Lune.”


Chloé puts a hand on Sabrina’s shoulder and the orange-haired teen blinks up at her, “...are you going to be alright?”


Sabrina stares until realization hits, “oh.” She scoffs, “please. Of course I will, Chlo. You know me. So I didn’t get into Lune?” She shrugs, “big deal. Their loss really. And it’s closed down now, so it no longer matters.”


Chloé squeezes Sabrina’s shoulder, “right. Their loss. You’re super talented, so to hell with them for not recognizing that.”


Sabrina smiles up at her, “thanks, Chloé.”


“Don’t mention it.” The blond squeezes Sabrina’s shoulder once more before happily clapping her hands together, “I’m so excited! New students. I hope there are some cute new students in my class.”


“Right. Your class.” Sabrina grimaces, “you got that new science professeur, right? With the wayward purple hair and glasses?” Chloé nods, “is she terrifying? I hear she’s terrifying. I don’t have her, thankfully, but I wanna know in case we get her subbed or something.”


“You know how unreliable gossip is, Sabrina. Especially in this place.”


“That’s why I’m asking you.”


“Ah. Makes sense. Professeur Mendeleiev is not terrifying,” Chloé pauses, “or, well, uh... she hasn’t been terrifying, yet.” The blonde gasps, “that reminds me! I completely forgot to talk to Papa about hiring her. Then again, he doesn’t even know about all the buildings being built around the city, so he may not know about all the professeurs in the collège he’s funding.” Chloé rolls her eyes, “can you believe that woman had no idea who I was?”


“Are you serious? Maybe she’s not from the city?”


“Uh, my maman is The International Queen of Fashion? I’d like to think my surname is easily recognizable.”


“You’d like to think so but...” Sabrina trails off with a shrug.


Chloé scoffs, “whatever. She’ll find out exactly who I am soon enough. Better get to class before the idiots roll in and pollute the air. See you at lunch. I have stuff to tell you.”


“See you at lunch.” They both head in opposite directions for their homerooms.


Sabrina walks into her classroom with her head held high. No time to dwell on the fucking “artsy” school rejecting her then shoving their fancy “artsy” students in her face! Chloé was right, it was their loss – not hers.


Some students are already in the classroom but Sabrina pays them no mind. Hers is the first seat as soon as you enter the classroom, meaning she’s free to ignore the chaos behind her.


Chloé once told Sabrina the front slash top of the classroom is where they belonged and who was Sabrina to argue? Her papa was the newly promoted Police Chief several weeks back and Chloé’s papa was the mayor, newly reelected – they were the two most powerful men in the city; if you exclude a magical butterfly slinging terrorist.


Rose Lavillant and her tall vampiric friend walk into the classroom together. As per the norm, the blonde is loudly talking a mile a minute animatedly. The professeur hadn’t bothered assigning seats to anyone but the blonde, putting her in the back due to her... “ability to project,” as he called it.


The gall of that multi-highlighted-hair-having ...bitch laying a hand on poor Adrien’s perfect face! Sabrina would’ve retaliated had everything not happened as fast as it did.


Sabrina stares at the empty desk in front of her. Huh. Professeur Chalmers is a stickler for punctuality. He’s the asshole who stands by the door and locks it one-tenth of a second after the bell rings despite seeing students approaching. Assembly or no assembly, the man would’ve been here behind his desk with his nose turned up sneering as he gazed around the room.


Students begin dredging into the classroom and Sabrina yawns. Adrien will likely be in Chloé’s classroom so Sabrina won’t have to babysit him. She still can’t believe he did that all for a piece of chalk tasting flour. Well, both his parents were dramatic. Why wouldn’t he be as well?


As much as Sabrina doesn’t want to share a classroom with people from the collège that rejected her, she is hoping for some cute boys to talk to. Ooh. Speaking of cute boys, Johnny Watts walks in with a yawn.


Yawning, Johnny shakes his whole body as he walks. Ramone is already inside at the desk in the back, across from Rose and Juleka, with her head down. They don’t always sit together in class, but Johnny’s feeling a little sleepy himself so he takes the seat next to his twin. (Though, one of them should be awake to tell the other what went on during class.)


He got up early thanks to that damn akuma attack, but Sass had him sit the fight out yet never explained why. The kwami wouldn’t even give him the bangle so he could transform! Johnny would’ve went back to sleep but he was too worried about the team. Then he saw the recorded livestream as he laid in bed and really worried about the team. Where the hell was the ladybug? And just what was keeping the team together?


He wouldn’t’ve been so tired if he, Ramone, and their great-aunt Camilla hadn’t been up watching old home movies until about two in the morning. Yesterday would’ve been their grandmother’s twenty-sixth anniversary and Camilla’s sister’s birthday. They celebrated their lives with their happiest memories.


Ramone pokes him in the arm, without moving her head, the second he sits down. She mutters something he needs to lean closer to her to hear, “how did you even know it was me?” He gasps, “you’re a witch!” Ramone pokes him in the cheek without moving her head, “alright, alright. I’ll ask around.”


Johnny looks around the classroom. Rose is gesturing wildly in the air and Juleka looks like she’s half-asleep as she leans back in her seat nodding.


The school’s power couple Elizabeth “Lisa” Girard Düpont and her on-again, off-again for the past three-going-on-four years boyfriend Remington “Rem” Hackett III Esq., walk in the classroom arm-in-arm. Without missing a step, Lisa slips a folded-up piece of paper onto Sabrina’s desk then they continue walking to the desk across from the orange-haired teen.


Sabrina scowls as she picks up the paper reading it.


Who knows what goes on with the rich students in this place? You’d think the black ones would have a bit more sense since there are so few of them in the school (rich or otherwise) but on Friday half the damn student body saw Lisa – proud grand-whatever of one of this school’s co-founders who she shares a name with – chasing after Teddy – yeah I’m the richest kid in the city but I’m totally cool, I promise – Altman screaming his name. No one dared to ask why. And Düpont is a trackstar so after she caught up with Teddy the hallways cleared. Zero witnesses. Plausible deniability.


Johnny is cool with Teddy but he’s more Ramone’s friend with them being all “sportsy” and whatnot.


Kitty walks in the classroom curly dark brown hair bouncing with every step. There’s even a well-timed hairflip as she turns to walk down the aisle. Her bored expression brightens when she sees him and she takes the empty seat at the bench in front of theirs. “Morning.”


“Morning. You wouldn’t happen to have any migraine pills, would you?” Johnny jerks a thumb at Ramone who lifts one hand to wave at the brunette but still doesn’t lift her head.


The brunette taps her chin in thought, “I know Marinette has some but her classroom is across the school.” Kitty looks around the class, “Alex?” The bespectacled teen with the light brown afro in front of Kitty shakes his head. “Rose do you have any migraine pills?”


The blonde pauses mid arm wave, “Juleka has migraine pills!” She chirps then lowers her hands. “How many do you need?”


The purple-haired teen opens the fannypack around her waist and pulls out a white bottle of ibuprofen. There’s no way Rose can stretch far enough to reach Johnny so he gets up and accepts the bottle from Juleka thanking her. “No big. I know what she’s going through. My migraines are a bitch to get rid of.”


“That’s why you got the extra super strong stuff.” Johnny whistles. Kitty puts her thermos on the desk as Johnny sits back down, “what’s this?”


“Tea. I put coffee creamer and sugar in it. It’s still warm. Might help with the migraine pills.”


Ramone lifts her head, “I could just kiss you Pryde. Aw to hell with it. I will kiss you.” The brunette laughs when Ramone leans forward to kiss her on the cheek. “I didn’t forget about you too Jules.”


Juleka blushes – at least Johnny thinks she’s blushing? Half of her face is covered by her hair.


After Johnny opens the bottle and shakes it until two pills come out Ramone takes a gulpful of Kitty’s nondescript creamer coated tea then the two ibuprofen pills. “I love you all.” Then Ramone puts her head back down.


Jubilation is the last to enter the class, as per the norm. She tilts her head to the right in confusion even as she makes her way to the bench in front of Rose and Juleka. Rose hugs the black-haired teen from behind. “You’ll never guess what I saw!” She leans back in her seat, “I saw the bus full of Lune students pull up.”


“So this is not a drill. It’s really happening?” Alex asks.


Jubilation shakes her head, “yup.” She loudly pops the p, “I saw it. Well, them. There was more than one bus. Two stopped here. I saw a couple more drive past. And some turned at the light by the boulangerie pâtissèrie.”


“Just how the hell did you see all that from here?” Jubilation looks up at Juleka.


“Oh. I left the school to get a closer look.” The others all nod, humming. “Once I saw Damocles I ran back inside the building.” She sighs, “I locked myself out by accident but fortunately I saw Professeur Chaplain taking his smoke break. Speaking of professeurs, not that I’m not super happy, but where is our professeur?” Everyone shrugs. “Well, this day seems to keep getting better and better.” She rubs her hands together, “new students and no sign of Chalmers?” Jubilation looks around, “wait! Where’s Ramone?”


Johnny jerks a thumb to his right and Ramone holds out her left hand giving Jubilation a thumbs up.


“Migraine pills didn’t kick in yet.” Rose says.


“That damn akuma gave me a migraine.” Juleka says rubbing her head, “Liberty was docked by the fifteenth arrondissement because The Captain was visiting a friend.”


“A friend—” Johnny yelps as Ramone tugs him toward her then slaps a hand over his mouth.


“How did she do that without moving her head?” Rose asks in awe, then she turns to Juleka, “but was it a friend with the eyebrow waggle and exaggerated wink?”


The purple-haired teen groans. “I’m gonna need the pills back.” Johnny gets up and hands the bottle back to Juleka, after taking two himself.


The door opens and the class freezes as an unfamiliar brunet with their brownish-red hair in a frizzy ponytail walks into the classroom yawning. “Morning class.” They say behind the yawn, “or is it afternoon?”


The class silently stares back at the brunet until Sabrina – naturally – jumps up gaping. No surprise there. Professeur Chalmers is one of Damocles’ pasties cheering on the Sabrina-Raincomprix-Can-Do-No-Wrong sidelines. Chalmers was rumored to go “golfing” with the newly “promoted” Police Chief biweekly, along with Damocles and some of the other vocal Mayor Bourgeois supporters teaching at this collège since no other school in city (possibly in the country) is willing to hire them.


The brunet puts their glasses down from their hair and puts them over their eyes. “Better. Whoa! What’s with all the confused faces?”


Everyone continues to stare, “oh, I get it! You probably think I just waltzed into the wrong classroom? Fortunately, this time, I can assure you I did not. Your old homeroom and world history professeur has been fired and arrested for being found hiding in the girls’ locker room in the gymnasium this morning.” The class gasps. “Never the ones you expect, am I right? We don’t know his exact reasons for... being there but it wouldn’t take a genius with an IQ of 163 like myself to draw some conclusions. Anyway, shortening the long story, I am taking over. I came from Lune, in case you were wondering. I did get interviewed for here about a week ago and felt like I bombed the interview so it is a bit ironic I am here. Thankfully, this school year just started so I don’t have to throw off anyone’s class rhythm or learning patterns. I’m a bit of a rambler, as I’m sure you have all realized already. My name is Professeur Stacey Yorkes. My daughter, who didn’t even try to attend Lune, is one of your classmates but I don’t wanna embarrass her or single her out by naming her.”


Either way, the whole class turns to Gert Yorkes, the bespectacled purple-haired girl sitting behind Düpont and her boyfriend, who facepalms. Her deskmate, Ivan, pats her on the shoulder consolingly.


“You. Girl standing. Why are you standing?” The class chuckles while Sabrina retakes her seat with a scowl. “I’m gonna go over the class roster, so bear with me for the next few minutes, alright?”


Sabrina raises her hand, “may I use the restroom?” (The class doesn’t notice the professeur’s eyes briefly flit to her daughter’s face or Gert subtly shaking her head.)


“Sure. Don’t take too long or you won’t be counted on the roster.”


🐈 & 🐞


Meanwhile, Chloé stopped by the office before heading to class to make sure Adrien was registered in her class. Chloé saw Nathalie, Adrien’s father’s personal assistant, standing there with a tablet with her boss’ face on it. Acclaimed fashion designer Gabriel Agreste is a known recluse who doesn’t even make digital appearances if he can help it. Many said his marriage with the very outgoing model and movie star Émilie Graham de Vanily was doomed to fail from the start. So people weren’t at all surprised by the very public news of the divorce last year, they were merely surprised they lasted as long as they had; nearly fourteen years.


When Chloé gets to the classroom, she sees (and hears) Alix and Kim in their seats yelling and pointing at each other. Teddy is seated across from them, to the left, shaking his head. Ugh. How can he stand the company of those morons? A “jock” he may be, but he’s not a dumb jock like those two. Hopefully, he’ll wise up when the new kids arrive and he sees there is much, much better company to keep.


Some other students enter the classroom.


Chloé fixes her ponytail, making sure she’s presentable.


“—Bustier wasn’t bad? Buster wasn’t bad!? Are you kidding me? Name one thing that woman taught us in three years of having her for literature, Kim. Just one.”


“One thing? That’ll be...” Kim furrows his eyebrows, “that’ll be...?” He repeats, now frowning. “I’m sure she...! Didn’t we learn...? Remember that time...? Huh. Damn. What do you know? I can’t think of anything. Weird.”


“It’s because she never taught us anything! All my literature notebooks are blank.”


“We have a different literature professeur this year.” Teddy chimes in, “so we might actually learn something.”


“Never thought I’d actually want to learn shit in school.” Alix mumbles.


Teddy sits back in his seat with a laugh. This bit of normalcy tacked on with the new normal of seeing the city’s superheroes in action (the cute one in particular) helped pushed the... unpleasantness of earlier this morning out of his mind.


A few more students start filing into the classroom. Alix and Kim begin arguing about something else. You really have to admire their tenacity. When Teddy turns to his left, stretching, he sees someone taking the seat in the row in front of him. With their back to him, Teddy can’t get a good look. Once the kid gets situated, they prop their right hand – adorned with silver rings – against their face as they look down at something. Before Teddy can try and get a glimpse of the unfamiliar brunet’s face, Chloé materializes out of nowhere right in front of him smiling brightly.


Wasn’t she in the front not ten seconds ago? Teddy is certain he saw her enter the classroom scowling, as per the norm. His sudden scream garners the attention of the class; well, most of the class. “Chloé... you startled me.”


“I realized.” Her smile widens. “How has your morning been so far?”


It’s an established, proven fact throughout François Dupont that Chloé Bourgeois is only nice to students worth a certain monetary value. (Theodoric “Teddy” Altman is the only son and second child of the richest woman in Paris, Elle Altman.) It’s another established fact that Teddy Altman, an almost all-around nice guy, is incredibly and rightfully distrustful of said niceness, but far too “polite” to be rude in a public setting.


Teddy gives a one-shoulder shrug, “it was alright, I guess. Got saved by the heroes.”


Chloé gasps excitedly, “you did?! Which one? Was it Hex? Did he save you all heroic like? I bet he did.” The blonde nods to herself, “he’s so graceful. Not at all like that Southpaw brute. Ooh. Or was it Aegis? She’s just so wonderful.”


“Aegis. It was Aegis.”


“What?!” Kim and Alix interrupt, with the former scooting all the way to the edge of the bench, “details!” They both yell.


“Um. Well, she put up a shield over me and a couple other people in the street.”


“Street...?” Chloé wrinkles her nose, “that means you were caught in all that taffy rain and gumball hail.”


Taffy!” Kim and Alix point at each other nodding, “that’s what it was!”


“...That would also mean you walked part of the way to school—”


“How would you know that? Do you have his schedule jotted down or something?”


Chloé rolls her eyes, “shut up, Swim Boy. Private. Conversation.” She glares at Kim before turning back to Teddy, “anyway, I have a proposition for you.” Alix elbows Kim gesturing to the blonde with an eye roll.


Teddy lolls his head from side to side, “let’s hear it.”


Professeur Mendeleiev only “assigned” seats to Chloé and Alya, as she was still keeping an eye on them. Not that it matters, Chloé always sits in the front of the class; it’s where she belongs after all. Unless the seats are at an angle, then Chloé will sit at the back which is also the top. Where Chloé also belongs.


Due to the number of desks versus students in the class (twelve two-person benches for only twelve students), Chloé had a bench all to herself. However, with all the new students pouring in, Chloé doesn’t want to get caught with someone who ends up annoying. It’s best to have the safest option, which has proven difficult as Chloé (just) realized her class is chalked full of people she cannot stand.


“Seating arrangements!” Teddy tilts his head to the right, “Theodoric Marcus Altman, with your status and looks, you are much too good to be sitting among the rabble,” Kim and Alix look at each other mouthing the word rabble questioningly, “it’s about time someone said that to you. Plus, our surnames guarantee us to be a the top of the pack. The alphas that the school knows we are. What I’m getting at is, wait for it... you should sit with me!”


Teddy’s eyes widen comically, “huh?”


Alix snorts, “is that a serious suggestion?”


Chloé scoffs, “I don’t recall asking for your opinion, Alixandriah.” Alix grits her teeth, muttering under her breath and Chloé smiles as she turns to the girl knowing full-well the pink-haired teen abhors being called by her full name (Chloé can’t blame her, spelling aside – she’s seen her student identification card before – it truly is an utterly horrendous name), “I’m talking to someone whose good deed of the day is giving you idiots any sort of attention. Besides, don’t you have to get arrested for something?”


Alix mock gasps, “you’re right! It’s gonna be your murder. They might even throw me a parade on my way to prison.”


“You wish you could reach me, Half-Pint.” Kim grabs Alix by the waist before she can lunge from the table. Smirking, Chloé turns back to Teddy who is still sitting there stunned, “anyway Theodoric, you are surely losing braincells sitting back here. I can feel myself dumbing down just in proximity to those two.” She jerks a thumb back at Alix and Kim who make faces behind the blonde’s back and she responds by flipping them off without looking. “You belong in the front of the classroom, like me! They should be looking at your back, not the other way around.” Chloé extends a hand. “Let’s go.”


Shaking out of his stupor, Teddy eyes Chloé’s outstretched hand warily then looks up at her smiling face and shifts in his seat, swallowing thickly. “I’m flattered, really, but... uh... I’m good.” He chuckles awkwardly, “hitting bit of a growth spurt and I don’t wanna block anyone’s way, you know?”


Chloé’s left eyebrow twitches and her smile strains, “don’t make this harder than it needs to be, Theodoric.”


Teddy gives her his own strained smile in reply. If their fashion designing mother’s weren’t close. “I’m not, Chloé.” They’re both just staring at each other for several seconds until Teddy cracks then massages his face. “Damn that hurt.” He sighs, “why do you even want me in the front? I thought you’d relish having the seat to yourself?”


“Are you kidding? Sitting by yourself is no fun. Especially in a class like chemistry. I miss sitting with Sabrina; she was such a desk hog though. And with Adrikins coming—”


He’s coming here!?” Chloé involuntarily flinches at the yelling coming from every angle of the classroom. She looks around and sees nine faces staring at her, outraged. Huh. This must be what Adrien felt in the assembly hall earlier?


“I saw him at the assembly. Bad enough he’s in the school no one wants him in but now they’re putting him in our class?! This is your doing, isn’t it?”


“For your information, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, I had nothing to do with this. Didn’t you see the video? Gabriel Agreste is solely responsible for Adrikins’ enrollment, so take your complaints to him for enrolling his son in a fine school where he can get a good education; then bitch at Damocles for accepting said enrollment and putting him in our class.”


“Since when has this been a fine school?” Kim asks and Alix shakes her head with a shrug.


Had Chloé known in advance it was Mlle.-Goodie-Two-Shoes-I-Bake-For-The-Homeless parents’ boulangerie pâtissèrie Adrien badmouthed, she never would’ve went through all this damn trouble trying to set things right. She would’ve just half-assed something and not given that ...homely little shop any unnecessary attention. All the “appreciation” and “support” posts on their social media accounts are utterly nauseating. Still, Chloé doesn’t hate the girl as much as she hates Césaire or Kubdel (for the moment), as this is the first time they’ve ever been in the same class, but far from the first time they’ve (negatively) interacted. [See cinquième’s/2018’s “Career Day” for more details.] Whereas she’s been utterly, utterly unlucky getting Césaire back-to-back and Kubdel three of her four years at this school with last year being her only reprieve; a reprieve that quickly got ruined by Césaire‘s presence.


To have all these... individuals in her class without Sabrina by her side? This school year surely would have been hell.


Chloé rolls her eyes, “look, I already said I’m not involved. Believe me or don’t, I won’t lose sleep over it.”


The blue-haired girl clicks her tongue then mutters something under her breath. Teddy sighs, “listen Chloé,” She turns to him, “if that kid is coming in this class then I don’t wanna be anywhere near him. Although now that I think about it, he’d be the one who wouldn’t want to be near me.”


“What?” Chloé groans, “oh my God! Seriously? Adrikins is not racist! He made one colossal thoughtless mistake he feels utterly, utterly sorry for. He shouldn’t be criminalized forever! He’s usually really sweet. He wouldn’t have a problem with anyone here!” Chloé looks around, “not you, not—”


“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!” Kim interrupts, “wait just one damn second. You start singling us out makes me think you might be the one with a problem with anyone who isn’t white, Chloé.”


What? That’s bullshit! Utter bullshit! Why would I even be back here talking to Theodoric and offering him a seat next to me if I had a problem with race?”


“Because he’s richer than you.” Alix and Kim simultaneously reply, deadpan.


“That’s your argument?” Chloé puts her hands on her hips, “if I were racist, I’d hate him and his family for that and I don’t. I mean, how could anyone hate Mlle. Altman anyhow? Besides, his money isn’t making me any less rich so I have no issue with it. Furthermore, as a shining diamond, I have to environ myself with other fabulously expensive jewels. Excluding other rich kids because of their race is utterly ridiculous.”


“So you’re not racist, but you’re classist? Makes sense.”


“What?” Chloe turns to the bespectacled brown-skinned brunet with the bright pink headphones around his neck seated two benches in front of the idiot duo, the bench in front of that weird art girl. Great. “The DJ” is in this class too? (She almost didn’t recognize him without a hat on.) “That’s not even a thing!”


He rolls his eyes behind his glasses and shakes his head. “We’re not even going there.” Alix responds instead, “if your friend is as utterly sweet...” Chloé’s left eye twitches as Alix perfectly imitates her voice, “...as you say, you shouldn’t have a problem with him sitting next to you. And if he’s not racist, which he is until proven otherwise, he’s still friends with you, and that’s reason enough to be cautious.”


“All my friends have class. Not something that could be said about you.”


“If ‘class’ makes people like you, I’ll pass; fuck you very much.”


Marinette gasps and everyone turns to her, “oh no! I just realized Chloé’s sweet, precious ‘Adri-kins’,” (Seriously?! What is it with people imitating her?) “sitting near you mean he’s sitting near me! I gotta move!” The blue-haired teen backward crab-walks up and over the desk and into the seat behind her without once looking back. The class applaud her in awe.


“This is ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous! You losers should be grateful to be in Adrien’s presence! I’ll sit with him.” She turns back to Teddy, “I was trying to do you a favor, Theodoric. We’re getting new students, remember? My offer will only stand for a limited time. Remember that too.” She looks around the classroom, “and you will all discover just how great Adrikins is for yourselves! Then you’ll be tripping all over yourselves trying to befriend him!” Flipping her ponytail, the blonde returns to her seat just as the principal enters the classroom through the front door. The class immediately boos and the man does a wide-eyed double take.


“That’s enough! Quiet! Quiet I said or you’ll get detention!” The boos get louder and Damocles’ face begins turning red. “That’s it! Detention for all of you!” Someone pointedly clears their throat, “hm? Ah yes. My mistake. Detention for all of you, except Mlle. Bourgeois.” The majority of the students in this class are so used to that they don’t even bother acknowledging the blonde. Naturally, the first occurrence for some – four years ago – made her classmates understandably pissed as Chloé was the cause of the detention yet got exempt when her papa called with some bullshit “excuse.” However, once they got in detention and didn’t hear any nasally bitching they realized detention was bearable (then later became sometimes fun) because she wasn’t there.


Nevertheless, Chloé turns back to Teddy with a knowing smile and one-shoulder shrug before flipping her ponytail and turning forward again. Teddy runs a hand down his face. He usually got exempt from detention as well but went anyways. What was Damocles gonna do? Give him detention for attending detention? Before Damocles can open his mouth again the class starts up booing again. The man gets redder and redder. “—I am here to announce the new classmates for you!” He yells over the booing.


There’s a loud thud caused by Alya slamming to a halt into the opened backdoor. At the sound, the class stops booing and looks around until all eyes fall on the orange-haired teen crammed in the doorway. “Son of a bitch.” Alya winces peeling herself off the doorway.


Language, Mlle. Césaire.” Damocles chides with a frown.


“Alya, are you okay?” Kim asks, halfway out of his seat.


“Peachy.” She replies rubbing her side, “fuck.”


Mlle. Césaire!”


“What?” Alya looks up then squints at the principal. “Hold up. Why are you here?”


Damocles’ frown deepens, “if you will come in and take your seat I will tell you.”


Alya snorts then walks to the front of the classroom, stopping at the second row where Marinette scoots to the right letting the orange-haired teen take the seat near the wall. Alya thanks Marinette with a smile.


The principal clears his throat, “Professeur Mendeleiev had planned to come in after the planned assembly Clara Nightingale ruined—”


“She didn’t ruin anything, you had her carried off stage!”


“You are mistaken, Mlle. Bourgeois.” Damocles gives the blonde a pointed look. Chloé rolls her eyes then folds her arms over her chest slumping back in her seat with a huff. “As I was saying, Professeur Mendeleiev planned on coming in late but then the akuma attack happened close to her place of residence so she will be absent today.” The class murmur among themselves, “we have no extra professeurs available thanks to the akuma attack so I will be subbing in on this class.” Kim and Alix elbow each other with twin shark-like grins. “I do not know if your professeur will be out tomorrow as well, but I plan on finding out during lunch today. Now then, I have new students to present to this class!”


The backdoor loudly slams open and Lila swears under her breath. “Who is that?” Wait, is that Damocles? Lila pokes her head in the doorway, grimacing when she sees everyone looking at the door, looking at her. So much for sneaking into the classroom. Damocles tries to take a peek at the back of the classroom but can’t due to his height. “Who is that I said? Come inside the classroom immediately.” Blowing out a breath, the brunette complies then raises an eyebrow when she sees Damocles standing there red-faced.


“Why are you here? Where’s Professeur Mendeleiev?”


Damocles’ right eye twitches. “Professeur Mendeleiev is absent due to the akuma attack.” He states, “I am subbing in as your professeur.”


Lila scoffs, “good luck with that.” Damocles’ whole face twitches slightly as Lila walks to the front of the classroom. When she approaches the third row, she sees Alya whispering something to Marinette who giggles covering her mouth. With Damocles and the rest of the class still watching her, Lila doesn’t miss a step and continues walking until she wordlessly slips into the first empty bench. The empty bench that happens to be directly across from Chloé. Great.


“The Lune students are here?” Kim asks excitedly.


“Yes, M. Lê Chiên, but those are not the students I am introducing.”


“Why are all the Lune students coming in at once?” Chloé asks.


“I just said—”


“How did you even know where to put all the Lune kids?” Lila asks.


“Will we be getting some professeurs from Lune as well?” Alya asks.


“How many students from Lune are we getting?” Teddy asks.


I am not introducing the students from Lune!” Damocles yells.


The class falls silent until Alix asks. “We were gonna have new students, plural, before Lune got gunked up?”


Damocles takes a deep breath, “yes, Mlle. Kubdel. And if there are no more interruptions...” He looks around the classroom, “I would like to begin.”


The front door opens with a resounding thud and a tall white man with shiny black hair messily splayed over his face and over the oversized pair of circular black sunglasses walks in the classroom. “Hello class!” He says in English. Damocles stares wide-eyed at the newcomer until the man is standing right in front of him and he has to crane his neck back to see him fully. “Principal, yes?” Damocles nods slowly. “Excellent!” He bows, “thank you.” He says in French, “your services are no longer needed in this room.”


“My what!? E-Excuse me but just who are you?!”


“Oh! How rude of me.” He laughs, “apologies Monsieur. I am JJ, directeur of student welfare at Lune! As I heard you have an absent professeur this morning I have decided to dedicate my services to filling in. Not my normal forte but I could not help myself!”


Damocles regards the man strangely, “I appreciate that but—”


The man obliviously waves Damocles off, “no need for thanks! These little moonbeams mean everything to me and I need to make sure they are shining their brightest, even under these...” He pauses, “circumstances.” Damocles is taken aback. “Let’s begin with the introductions, yes? These four shining lights each have a different expertise!” The man motions at the door and four students enter single file.


Alya looks on, seeing two of the four new kids are black. There are, Alya counted, twelve black students in the entire school; five of which – including her – are in this class. There are so damn few of them they all know one another by name and exchanged contact information. The number did not increase from last year; however, Lila told her the number tripled between two years ago and last year when Alya hand a handful of other black students first arrived. Lune didn’t just talk diversity, it put its money where its art is. As one of its co-founders is not only black but a fucking superhero and a goddamn king, Alya wasn’t surprised. (She also sees that hot Japanese girl, Kagami, she met at Le Grand Paris a few weeks back, which is another pleasant surprise.)


Eyes widening, Marinette jumps up from her seat with a shout pointing at the first kid – the kid with the messy dark blue hair and bright green eyes – wearing a very familiar carnation pink and gold hoodie. Marinette begins babbling incoherently and Damocles looks close to bursting several blood vessels as he stares at her.


Mlle. Dupain-Cheng!” Mid-babble, the aforementioned girl slowly turns to the principal, “would you care to explain your... your... outburst?!”


“My wha—!? O-Oh. Right. Sure. I made that hoodie.” Everyone looks from one blue-haired teen to the other. “I shipped it off Friday, but I made a mistake in making it. In finishing it. I was trying to get in contact with the buyer after I realized I sewed my initials on the outside of the left sleeve rather than the inside.”


The kid in question holds out their left sleeve and examines it, as do the other students near them. The initials MDC are neatly and seamlessly sewed in with the rest of the gold lining of the sleeve cuff. “Huh. Thought it was done on purpose.”


Marinette frantically shakes her head, “no, no. It wasn’t. I made a backup sleeve after realizing I messed up but then I accidentally attached the messed up sleeve rather than the jacket’s actual sleeve.” She sighs, “I can give you a full refund or redo the jacket or—”


“Wait, wait! No, don’t do anything. I like the hoodie the way it is.”


Marinette tilts her head to the right, “y-you do?”


The kid nods. “As we were getting on the bus, I got so many compliments.”


“Wait a second.” Chloé turns to Marinette with narrowed eyes, “you made that hoodie? You? You Mlle.-I-Tripped-Over-the-Cuff-of-My-Pant-Leg, right outside this classroom just this morning, created something like that? With your own two hands?”


“I only tripped because my cuff unraveled!” Marinette replies then clears her throat, “b-but yes, I did make that.” She lolls her head from side to side, “I mean it was mostly the sewing machine, but yeah I put it together.”


“All you had to say was yes.” The blonde rolls her blue eyes. “I’ve seen my maman work with those teeny tiny old-school sewing machines. You’re the one that makes the sewing machine... do what it needs to do so, yeah, you did it with your own hands. Not that complicated of an answer.”


“It almost sounds like you’re complimenting her.” Alix adds.


Chloé scoffs, “something is obviously wrong with your hearing, Kubdel. Maybe all those blows to the head when you fail a skate trick or something.”


“Bitch.” Alix says through a cough.


“She has a website called designsbyMDC. That’s also her Instagram page where some of her clothes are.” The green-eyed blue-haired kid says. The class excitedly begin taking out their phones.


Alya gasps as she eyes the content on her phone screen, “holy shit, this stuff is incredible!”


“And all of it is gender nonconforming?” Alix gushes then stands at her seat, “do you take commissions? I need something with like wheels that are on fire!”


“Uh...?” Marinette turns to the pink-haired teen, “I take commissions, yes, but could you maybe draw me a picture of what you want that to look like...?”


“How much do you charge for stuff?” Lila asks, turning back to the blue-haired girl behind her, “is it on the website?”


“Ooh! I need a pair of these peony sunglasses!” Kim squeals, “they are so fucking badass! How did you make them?”


Everyone begins talking over one another until the directeur whistles loudly and the students abruptly stop talking to gape at the man. “Mademoiselle... Dupain-Cheng, was it?” Marinette nods slowly, “your work is remarkable. There’s a unique sense of panache about it. Have you been scouted?” Marinette tilts her head to the left, “for Lune.” He clarifies.


“F-For—!” Marinette’s eyes widen and she shakes her head.


“No? How odd. There is no way the scouters could have bypassed such talent. Wires must’ve gotten crossed somewhere and a mistake was made. Worry not, I will rectify it. That is part of my job after all. In the meantime, allow me to introduce my students. This fashionable fellow before is Marc Anciel, an aspiring writer.” Marc inclines his head with a bow then waves. “To his right, we have our resident technological expert, Max Kanté.” The man gestures to the short dark-skinned bespectacled teen with his hair in waves, “and we can’t forget his robot assistant Markov.” The blue-grey robot floating beside the aforementioned boy waves with its claw. “To the right of Max, we have our star rhythmic gymnast Kagami Tsurugi.” The short, blue-haired, brown-eyed teen with the freckles smattered across her nose and cheeks puts her hands at her sides then bows her head. Several students mimic the action back at the girl though they remain seated.


Alya looks up from her phone with a sigh and props up her face with her fist. “What’s up?” Marinette whispers.


“I met Kagami at Le Grand Paris when her maman became Balance.” Alya whispers back, “I don’t know if she remembers me.”


Marinette elbows her with a wink, “I’m sure she does. How could she not? You’re definitely someone that’s impossible to forget, in the best possible way.” Alya smiles at her.


“Lastly, to the right of Kagami, we have David Alleyne.” The tallest of the four teens, David is dark-skinned wearing a pair of circular glasses with yellow tinted lenses; his hair is in a curly tapered high top fade. “Any questions?”


Lila subtly pinches herself. Nope, not dreaming. That David boy truly is that hot. So she was right about François Düpont lacking in good-looking guys! She pinches herself again to make sure. Of course an “artsy” school would hoard all the attractive guys for themselves. Assholes.


Teddy slow blinks; brain booting up the “oh no, he’s hot” soundclip repeatedly on loop, eyes flitting between all three guys.


Chloé swallows the gum she does not remember putting in her mouth. She’s seen that hot girl before... but where? Not that the guys aren’t hot as well. But that girl...! Not many people can rock a bob with bangs.


Alix is fairly certain Kim passed out beside her, but she’s trying to sketch some kind of flaming wheel for her commission to Marinette. (Kim has not passed out, yet, but he is in one hell of a daze. So much beauty is... dizzying.)


Lisa is sitting there stock-still with her broken pencil in her right hand wondering if she’s artsy enough for Lune?


When Nino’s playlist ended, he had to sit there in silence staring at the new kids wondering if being hot is a prerequisite to attending Lune? Then he wonders if he charged his headphones last night?


Marinette is grinning and elbowing Alya who covers her face with her hands. Both unaware of the brown eyes watching them.


Billy is subtly looking for anything cat-themed on Marinette’s website to order.


Nathaniel hasn’t looked up once from his sketchbook since class began, and is very likely the only person to not know what the hell is going on presently.


Furrowing her eyebrows, Zariele slowly raises her hand and the directeur acknowledges the dark-skinned girl with the dark brown dreadlocks tied up in a ponytail, seated behind Alya and Marinette. “M. Directeur? You did not say what David does.” The majority of the students snap out of their stupors then look at their classmate before turning to the directeur who smiles.


“Ah. Yes. You noticed, hm? That was done deliberately. I’m afraid I cannot... legally disclose that information outside of Lune.” The class stares at the man. “Any... other questions? No? Moving on then.” Everyone seated plus Damocles are still staring at the man. “I see plenty of empty seats. Why not use this opportunity to expand the number of friends you have?”


“In other words, don’t sit next to one another.” Max translates.


The directeur points at him nodding. The four kids shrug before splitting up. Not sitting next to one another doesn’t mean they can’t sit near one another.


Chloé slides to the right, “this seat is empty!” She practically yells to Kagami. The blue-haired teen pauses then takes the offered seat. Chloé bats her eyelashes, “I’m Chloé Bourgeois. The only person in this class worth knowing.” She inches closer and Kagami instinctively inches back, “I don’t know how long you’ve been in Paris for but we customarily greet each other with a cheek kiss. May I?” Kagami nods warily. The blonde smiles then moves so that her left cheek briefly touches Kagami’s right then she mimics the action with their other cheeks before drawing back.


Max ventures to the third bench on the left next to the girl with the dreads. She smiles warmly at him and he feels his face heat up. He was originally going to take the seat behind Kagami but Markov subtly warned him that would be a mistake. Markov does not have prophetic abilities, at least none that Max coded, but his robot was designed to assist and advise him and when Markov gives him a warning, Max heeds it. Through his left hearing aid, Markov relays information on the vaguely familiar blonde with the ponytail and sunglasses on her head. (Ooh. Kagami’s gonna be pissed when he tells her. Then again, he can hear the girl talking from here so Kagami might just figure it out herself.)


Marc happily sits next to the cute redhead who was the only person blithely unaware of his surroundings. The seat also happened to be in front of another cute boy who wasn’t paying attention to what was around him. Oh! And he was also behind Max, so that was a win-win-win.


Lastly, David takes the seat behind Kagami. He was going to take the seat in front of the brunet staring mournfully at his pink headphones but Kagami looked like she was trying to process something so he sat near her just in case she needed to communicate. And sure enough, Kagami quickly signs to him while nodding along to whatever her deskmate is blathering on about.


Wait. What? Kagami must not realize she’s signing in Japanese sign language instead of French sign language.


As that short ruffled looking man with the thick eyebrows starts complaining to the directeur, David glances back at both Max and Markov. There’s no sign for akuma, at least not yet but Max does sign motorcycle. Markov draws out the outline of a building on his face before his face returns to normal.


Building? No, no. Not building but hotel. Hotel? Motorcycle? Wha—oh. David hums. Now he gets it. He’s seen that girl on a billboard advertizing Le Grand Paris Château – the hotel where Mme. Tsurugi was akumatized into Balance thanks to the mayor.


And the girl just mentioned her papa being the mayor.


The girl wasn’t involved so Kagami merely continues to semi-politely nod along to the girl’s bragging.


David looks around the classroom. The green-eyed brunette in the first row at the bench by herself waves at him. He hesitantly waves back. The two girls behind her – and directly across from him – are furiously whispering to each other. (That reminds David to check that website.)


Max appears to be getting along with his deskmate whereas Marc is sprawled out over his desk frowning. Looks like he isn’t getting along with his deskmate. Or more accurately, his deskmate has yet to acknowledge him sketching so astutely.


On the right side of the classroom behind David is an empty bench, behind that is the kid with the headphones also trying to get the attention of the sketching redhead. The brunette behind him is also sketching. And at the last bench, there’s a tall brunet and a short pink-haired girl tearing out pieces of paper from a notebook and neatly stacking them in the middle of their desk.


“Okay!” The stocky owl-faced man begins taking a step forward. “Now that we are situated, there are three more students I’d like to introduce.”


The man goes out in the hallway and returns with two white blonds. The class is wholly unimpressed watching the first blond – oh! It’s that racist model kid. Yeah, Marc is far from impressed himself. And to think he once smuggled a Pêche magazine with that kid’s face on it – miserably shuffle his feet as he enters the classroom. The pale, green-eyed blond is wearing a vintage collection Agreste® black rhinestone tracksuit. His hands are stuffed in the pants pockets. Marc rolls his eyes. Why wouldn’t the blond, The Adrien Agreste: Face of Agreste® (mid scandal mind you) be decked out in his father’s clothing from head to toe? Well, not literally to the toes as Gabriel Agreste went on a viral rant mid “apology” about how not every fashion designer has to design footwear as well. (Most say the jab was aimed at both Audrey Bourgeois and Elle Altman who both successfully launched support footwear earlier this year.)


The other white blond with the blue-eyes isn’t drawing much of an interest himself. Marc tilts his head to the right. He doesn’t recognize the kid.


Before the principal can introduce these new students, a cellphone begins blaring “Heartbeat” by Dazzler. Chloé gasps, frantically pulling her phone out of her purse then furrows her eyebrows and simultaneously sighs in relief when she sees her screen black. Who the hell has her ringtone? It’s one of Dazzler’s older songs, right before her we-don’t-talk-about emo phase. The directeur casually takes his blaring phone out of his breastpocket and stares at the screen (which might be a bit hard with him still wearing sunglasses?) “Ah! I must take this. Excuse me one moment.” Then he gracefully walks out of the classroom, phone still singing.


The principal clears his throat. “Now then, may I present your newest new classmates: Adrien Agreste and Chase Stein!”


Adrien is looking down at the ground and Chase has an arrogant smile on his face. Damocles claps them both on the back, “Messieurs, welcome to Professeur Mendeleiev’s class! As you can probably tell, your professeur is absent today. Why not use this time to tell your new classmates about yourselves?”


“I thought you said you had three new students?” Chloé asks with an eyebrow raised.


Damocles pauses and the smile slips off his face. “...I cannot find the third one.” The class stares incredulously at the man. Just how the hell did he become a principal? He nudges Adrien but it’s Chase that begins talking.


“Name’s Chase.” Lila nearly shrieks in horror when she realizes the seat next to hers is available. Any of these cute (but not as cute as her future husband) idiots could sit next to her! “My parents own Stein Incorporated. Sure you’ve heard of it. We just opened our first manufacturing factor in Marseille last week. I’ve been speaking French since I was three. I also speak several other languages...”


As the blond yammers on, Lila takes her phone out of her purse and types “Stein Incorporated” into a search engine. Are they dealing with “new money” like the Bourgeois’ or “old money” like Teddy’s family? The brunette skims the lengthy article about the new “tech” manufacturing building. When nothing of interest jumps out a her, she types “Chase Stein” into the search engine. Blah, blah, blah, blah... typical rich people stuff appear with their own links. Scandals. Fashion faux pas. Family “feuds.” Award shows. Who got caught at which “charity function” doing “what?” Celebrity “get-togethers” that snub other celebrities. [There is a ton of shit. People actually read all this stuff... willingly?] Before she’s ready to give up, she sees a picture of Chase (uncomfortably) smiling as a man who has a (strained) smile of his own with one visible hand white-knuckle gripping his son’s shoulder, and beside the man is a much younger- looking smiling blonde woman oblivious to the obvious tension in her family. The picture has their names Victor Jr. (bottom), Victor Sr. (left), and Janet (right.) Victor Jr.? Ah. Chase’s first name is Victor as well. Making him Victor Chase Stein Jr. The paragraph under the picture calls The Victor Stein (Sr.) a technological “wizard” yet doesn’t mention any of his “inventions.” And to be honest, Lila has never heard of this dude and she’s traveled all around the world. Ah. What is this? His mother is socialite turned engineer Janet (née: Bélanger) Stein. A “socialite” means “old money” then. Except if you’re Janet van Dyne or Audrey Bourgeois.


While on the subject of “old money,” Lila didn’t see anyone sitting by Teddy when she walked in the classroom. Lila may not be Teddy’s type, unfortunately, but that doesn’t mean they can’t become friends. After all, one can never have too many friends. If she wasn’t so used to sitting with Alya, she would’ve sat next to Teddy. Instead, she’s by herself not next to either. She may be sitting in front of Alya but the orange-haired teen has yet to acknowledge her presence; too busy whisper-giggling with “MDC.” Something Lila plans on rectifying. She moves some of the hair over her right shoulder to the left, near the middle of her back. Looking to the back right of her slightly, she sees Alya and Marinette still huddled together whispering furiously to each other.


When Chloé begins clapping loudly, Lila startles and a quick look around the classroom tells her several students startled awake at the noise. Lila checks her phone. Wow. The blond—Chase—successfully wasted nine full minutes bragging about himself. Or whatever the hell he was talking about. Good Lord, they have themselves another Chloé. Just what this class needs. Three Chloé’s. As if one weren’t bad enough.


Damocles, still holding onto the boy, startles himself awake as well. “T-Thank you, M. Stein.” He clears his throat, “M. Agreste, you’re up next.”


“Do I have to?”


“Yes!”


With a sigh of resignation, Adrien looks around the classroom searching the faces of his new classmates; courtesy of his father, not even subtly, wanting to ruin his life. Everyone looking back at him, minus Chloé giving him an encouraging smile and two thumbs up, are just staring expressionlessly back at him. Do the speech, just like his father said.


“I...” He gulps nervously, “I’m Adrien...” He takes a deep breath, “a-and I wanted to...” He sees Marinette stiffen before she (angrily?) looks up at him, and the bespectacled girl beside her doesn’t look all that pleased with him either. Do the speech, just like his father said. Don’t think about green-grey eyes or a green-grey-eyed akuma chasing after him. Do the speech, just like his father said. Chloé is motioning for him to say something but he can’t, he’s just... standing there.


Is the room spinning?


Someone coughs.


The room is definitely spinning.


Where did all the air go?


The last thing Adrien sees is Chloé looking at him with concern.


The class gasps as the blond falls forward hitting the floor with an audible thud before Chase or Damocles could move.


Adrien!” Chloé screams, scrambling to her feet and rushing over to the unconscious teen., turning him over “Oh Adrien! Why didn’t you fall backwards? Who knows what’s on this disgusting floor!” She snaps her fingers at Damocles, “stop staring and get him off this floor!”


Damocles struggles to get Adrien off the floor so Chase lends a hand and the two of them half-carry, half-drag Adrien to the empty bench behind David and just lay him out.


“Are you serious? Why aren’t you taking him to the nurse!?”


“The nurse is absent due to the akuma attack, Mlle. Bourgeois. M. Agreste will be fine.” Chloé grumbles under her breath before returning to her seat. “I will contact his parent and let him know.” With a sigh, Damocles gestures for Chase to sit and to Lila’s dismay it’s in the seat next to her. She plasters on a welcoming smile and introduces herself to the blond.


“I apologize for my sudden disappearance.” The directeur begins reentering the classroom. “I just received word of a new transfer student, but had to return here due to this morning’s akuma attack. We’re still getting things situated but please join me in welcoming Xavin Abari.”


Well, fuck. Teddy barely dodged the bullet only for it to recurve and hit him anyway. He squirms in his seat, though thankfully no one notices. His cousin—no, no... not his cousin, just some kid he doesn’t know that only sorta... kinda looks like him—gracefully – if not a bit stiffly – walks into the classroom. There’s an audible, collective gasp. Xavin has his hair in black, dark brown, and grey microbraids tied in a high ponytail with the sides and back of his head shaved off.


Damocles sputters as Xavin walks past him. “T-That is the name of the third student I was going to introduce! You mean to tell me he was to attend Lune after getting registered for here!?”


“That is exactly what I mean to tell you.” Damocles’ nostrils flare. “I also mean to tell you M. Abari was accidentally entered into your school system.”


“A-Accidentally? Accidentally!?” Damocles screeches, “how does one accidentally get entered into a school system?!”


“Hell if I know, Monsieur, this is your school.”


“Dumbacles is gonna blow~” Alix sing-songs to Kim who nods in agreement. If the man’s left eye twitches any harder it might just shut itself.


“Now I did not the opportunity to learn anything about you and I’m assuming your class knows nothing of you as well. You may choose to regale your new classmates with details of your life or not. There is no pressure.”


“...I choose to decline, if that is alright?”


“It’s more than alright!” The class collectively groan. “Public speaking is not for everyone. Please find a seat.” The class watch Xavin walk. The newcomer approaches the third bench on the right and pauses seeing someone unconscious in the seat. Xavin stares for a few seconds before taking a seat in the bench behind the unconscious blond, next to a student with a pair of pink headphones around their neck.


Damocles watches the students. The majority of them turn their attention to “The Directeur of Student Interests” or whatever his fancy title was. They’re just... waiting; waiting as patiently as this particular handful of attention deficient teenagers can wait. What makes this fancily dressed man so damn special? He’s wearing sunglasses indoors for crying out loud! Damocles recognizes more than half of these students simply because they are repeat detention offenders and regulars in his office. He must not have been paying attention when he put this class roster together. Most of his biggest troublemaker and migraine inducing students all in the same class? New students or not, he has a feeling this school year will be hell for him.


He feels for Professeur Mendeleiev. She doesn’t know these hellspawn the way he does.


Damocles clears his throat in a futile attempt to break whatever spell “the directeur” has over the students. As expected, no one pays him any mind. And the “directeur” isn’t even speaking! What the hell? Damocles clears his throat again, a bit louder this time. “Well, Monsieur Directeur, I suppose if you are intent on subbing in for this class I shall return to my office.” Oh great. Now everyone is looking in his direction. Because he’s leaving. Just as well, it’s honestly better for his mental and physical health to get the hell away from these little demons.


Damocles feels the students eyeing his retreating form. He makes sure to close the door behind him then all but sprints to his office for some much-needed ibuprofen.


The directeur rubs his hands together, “I’m sure you have some questions.”


Multiple hands go in the air and the hands go down when the directeur acknowledges Chloé, “do you think if Lune existed when Clara Nightingale was still in collège she’d be a student there?”


“Oh absolutely. Seeing a teenager that talented is what breathed life into our school. Though if I were to pinpoint Lune’s exact starting off point, it was watching an old homemade video of our very own Max Kanté at age eight constructing Markov.” The class turn to the aforementioned boy who rubs the back of his neck. Markov happily chitters beside him, black oval-shaped eyes becoming red hearts. “If a student can create a sentient robot without all the necessary components, can you imagine what he could do with everything he needed?”


“I’m sorry. Did you say eight?!” Alya asks turning around completely facing Max.


He was actually six, but no way he was going to say that out loud in front of a room of mostly strangers. “...I had no idea I inspired the creation of an art school,” Max says instead, as he adjusts his glasses, “I also had no idea my maman recorded me.”


Still facing Max, Alya raises her hand. “Uh, yes, you... turned around?”


Alya turns around slightly so she’s facing both the directeur and Max, “do you have to be ‘scouted’ by Lune to attend or can you go there and apply?”


“Both.” He pauses, “obviously, you can’t do either presently with the building covered in ...confections, and all scouting will simply put you on a list to be tested at a later date, but all you need to enroll at Lune is pass an artistic value test. And you must know a minimum of three languages.”


“Is this ‘art value’ test like ‘the bird scene’ from the series Victorious?” Lila asks, hand halfway in the air.


“That is one thing you can refer it to, yes. No two students are there for the same reason even if they are both, let’s say... music enthusiasts. One might play piano and the other might play the pan flute. Understand?” The students nod, “or... both might play piano but one does contemporary while the other only plays classical.”


The directeur nods at Kim who has a hand in the air, “how many programs are in Lune?”


“I don’t know off the top of my head, the school is always growing.”


Chloé raises her hand again and the directeur nods at her, “why do you need to speak three languages?”


“I never said speak, I said know.”


“What’s the difference?”


“The difference—” Chloé glares over at Alya, “—is that there are languages that aren’t spoken like all the sign languages.”


“That is correct.” Chloé narrows her eyes at Alya before turning back around. “And we scout students from all over the world, so knowing multiple languages helps break down language barriers.” Chloé taps her chin. That must be why Sabrina got rejected. She can barely speak English let alone a third language.


“There’s more than one sign language?!” Chase exclaims.


“There is more than one spoken language and people with deaf or hard-of-hearing people exist all over the world.”


Lila raises her hand and the directeur gestures to her, “personally, I believe even people without hearing impairments should know the sign equivalent to all the spoken languages they know.”


“That is something I also believe.” Lila smiles and Chloé rolls her eyes with a scoff.


I know sign of all the languages I speak.” Lila begins, hand still raised, “Ooh. One more thing: are we also getting some of Lune’s professeurs?”


“Yes. After all, they no longer have a collège to attend either.”


“So we’re gonna get taught stuff they teach at Lune?” Alix asks, “badass. Ooh!” She raises her hand, “sorry.”


“No worries. This is exciting for our students and staff as well.” The students excitedly murmur to one another, “however—!” He holds up a hand and the murmuring stops, “I have a feeling if the overall decision making is left to Damocles, with this being his school, it is very unlikely that many – if any – accommodations will be made.”


“Well that sucks!” Chloé yells, “there has to be a way to overrule that!”


“We wouldn’t have nearly enough professeurs and François Düpont isn’t the only collège we’re sending students to. Also, Lune wasn’t the only collège affected by the akuma attack this morning.”


“This place has nothing to offer your students, except on everything you shouldn’t do.” Alix says, “we should make a petition or something to get Damocles’ attention.” The pink-haired teen rips out a piece of paper from her notebook then scribbles her name on it.


“It makes me feel utterly unclean when I agree with Kubdel but...” Chloé shudders, “it needs to be said. That brainless jock is right, as rare as it happens.” She glares up at Alix, “this petition of yours better work.”


“Why don’t you just have your papa tell Damocles to step aside?” Lila asks, with an arm on Chase’s chest moving him backward so she can see Chloé. Kagami, to her credit, moves back as well. “We want these students to feel comfortable here for as long as we have them, right?”


Chloé narrows her eyes. “There’s something in your tone that’s irritating me...”


“For fu—oodness sake, Chloé, we’re telling you to complain to your papa about something, which is something you do regularly without prompting, and you don’t wanna do it?!” Kim yells.


Tell me!? No one tells me what to do!”


“That’s obvious or she wouldn’t be wearing that lilac eyeshadow.” Alya mutters to Marinette who chortles, covering her mouth with both hands.


“Fine, we’re asking.” Kim rolls his eyes, “whatever. You know you wanna learn some cool artsy stuff this school will never, ever provide. Remember how we have two free periods because there are no foreign language and only one art professeur in the entire school? This is only temporary and a once-in-our-lifetime-gig so we need to take advantage of it!” The rest of the students begin murmuring in agreement with Kim.


“If it’ll get you all to shut up I will ask!”

Series this work belongs to: