"Spots off, Tikki!"
A flash of pink light illuminated the room, replacing Paris' new hero with Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She caught Tikki in her cupped hands, being mindful of the loft's lack of railing on her bed. Carefully going down the ladder, Marinette made her way towards her chaise. Tucking the kwami in on one of the cushions with a whispered "good night" in the air, the young girl glanced at the electric clock on her desk. Yeah, it definitely felt like 3:17am.
She had been patrolling the city throughout the night, keeping watch for any akuma or ruckus in general. With the help of Tikki's mental link, Ladybug tried to reach her partner through her yoyo's communication app. No response. She tried repeatedly, pausing to call every three to five blocks. Still, no response. Fortunately, she found nothing amiss that night.
Unfortunately, her body was paying the consequences.
Marinette felt the weight of every step as she ascended the ladder to her bed. Shoulders tensed, feet sore, and abdominals aching, she gracefully flopped herself down like a ragdoll on top of her sheets. She adjusted the pillows underneath her head and closed her eyes, waiting for (death's) sleep's embrace.
…
Marinette tossed and turned, failing to find a comfortable position.
…
Marinette strained her neck to see that it was 3:28.
…
Marinette took one of her pillows and hugged it. More tossing and turning.
…
3:34. It was going to be a long night. Marinette grumbled, kicking the pillow she was clutching to the end of her bed.
BEEP BEEP BEEP
7:45. Ha ha, no.
BEEP BEEP BEEP
8:45. Five more minutes wouldn't be so bad.
BEEP BEEP BEEP
9:45. Marinette gathered enough energy to climb out of bed and to unplug her alarm clock. As she climbed back into bed, she paused, stared, and fixated upon a spot on the bed. No, it was a literal spot. A red spot. The girl calmly went back to bed and screamed into her pillow. All she wanted to do was sleep. She tossed and turned a few more times before she gave up, surrendering to the start of her day.
Glaring half-heartedly at her still unplugged alarm clock, Marinette went to grab her phone and a towel. If she was already late, she might as well be fashionably late. She clicked on a thirty minute playlist, one she usually used on runs, and closed the bathroom door behind her.
By the time she got out, Marinette was aware enough to realize that she was not going to be fashionable and she was very late. First her period, then she realized she ran out of clean clothes, and now her hair wouldn't cooperate. Oh, and she had a bitchin' headache. The fashionista gave up and headed off to school.
Class time swept through in a blur, the cacophony of voices (namely Chloe's) penetrating her skull. Finally, the noises stopped. Except for one. "Um, grunt if you're awake please."
The voice was firm yet polite, but most importantly, gentle to her delicate ears. The voice continued, mentioning something about apologizing. Realizing that it would be rude to ignore it (especially since she didn't remember anyone who's personally wronged her recently), she looked up. Blue met green. Oh yeah, Adrien Agreste. Asshole put gum on her chair.
"The gum...I was just trying to take it off, I swear," he paused. Oh, okay. Oops, maybe not. "I've never done any of this before, going to school and whatnot. It's all so new to me. I-I'd like to be friends. If that's okay with you."
Marinette felt conflicted because on one hand his words sounded so formal and whole-hearted that it had to be a script from a cheesy cartoon. But on the other hand, his eyes were full of so much sincerity and apprehension that she was getting second-hand anxiety. Marinette began patting his face, trying to wipe the worry from his face. She didn't need another headache trying to sleuth whether he was for real or not, so she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
"It's okay, handsome boy." Oh, okay. Where did that come from? Did she actually say that? It is true. Oh well, better just roll with it. She stopped patting his face, seeing it morph through a multitude of emotions. Maybe he comes with an off button?
Marinette prodded the spot on his forehead not covered with his banana hair. His face froze. So, that's a yes for the off button thing. The designer hummed, pleased with her discovery. She walked towards the door, shooting a "bye bye" over her shoulder. The girl was aware enough to know that she ought to head home for lunch.
Swaying towards her locker, Marinette found Alya waiting for her. Lifting her hand in greeting, she turned to her locker. Aftering fumbling with the combination three times, the dark-haired girl outstretched her hand to grab...nothing. Oh yeah, fashionably late. No time for lockers. Alya peeked behind the door to stare as well. "Girl, are you sure you're okay?"
"Peachy, beautiful girl," Marinette declared, outstretching her arms and pressing her hands firmly on Alya's shoulders. Oh, damn. There it is again. At least she's being truthful. The reporter shook her head, grabbing both her wrists and closing her locker door. "Hey, I wasn't finished with that. And where are we going?"
"You can go back later, I promise. And I'm taking you to a magical garden where you can get some beauty sleep."
"But beauty is the eye of the beholder, so what if I never wake up because as soon as I look one way, someone else might see me as ugly. Did you know that when my mom was born, grandma Po Po told the doctor to send her back because there's no way her baby could be that ugly. Yeah, television lies. We're all just big grape people that grew from prune babies."
Throughout the rambling, Alya led her to a bench and helped Marinette sit down. Alya sat herself down, only to have the sleep-deprived girl curl up beside her leg.
She shook her head and chuckled, taking her laptop out of her bag. Although she had her mind set on asking Max to work on the school blog, she still had the Ladyblog to manage.
This is where her classmates found her nearly an hour later. Max, along with an athletic looking guy and the skater girl from the back, approached the bench.
"Wow, Marinette is Marin-out," the shortest of the three stated, sitting beside said girl. Without missing a beat, Marinette adjusted herself so that she was curled towards her other friend. She promptly sat up, flopped her belly into the pink-haired girl's lap, and buried her face in her crossed arms. The more coherent of the two untied the other's pigtails, combing through her hair as a soothing gesture.
"'Mma wake," Marinette mumbled feebly.
"This can't be comfortable."
"'Mm noooottt..."
Meanwhile, Max and Kim were introducing themselves to Alya. "So, I heard that you were seeking my assistance."
Kim leaned on Max's shoulders and crossed his arms, failing to look nonchalant. "Yeah, for a new club, right? I heard you talking with Nathanaël about it. I bet Nino and I will get more people to join our breakdancing club this year than your school blog club."
"Nino is also in this club, is he not? That would present quite a conflict of interest," Max adjusted his glasses before turning to Alya, "Please email me any inquires and additional information as needed." He pulled out a business card from his satchel and handed it to her. He swatted Kim away, and they walked towards their classroom.
Alya turned to the remaining (cognizant) person, confusion etched on her face. The pink-haired girl quirked the corner of her lip upwards and let out a laugh. "You just got a green light from them, you know. Like a buy one get one sort of deal. I'm Alix, by the way," she said while rummaging through her backpack. Alix pulled out a thermos, pressing it lightly on Marinette's cheek. "Come on, it's your favorite."
Finally, with tremendous effort, Marinette opened her eyes. "With marshmallows?"
"Exactly six."
She smiled, grabbed the thermos, and sat up. After a few undignified gulps, Marinette looked between her two friends. "How bad?"
"Remember that time you did two all-nighters in a row to write then rewrite your chem lab because your computer died and Max couldn't help because the motherboard was shot? Worse than that."
Marinette set the thermos down, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. "Urgh, this is such a mess. How long do we have until class?"
The warning bell answered her question. The three girls stood up and walked to finish their classes. Alya, in particular, was eager for the day to finish. She and Marinette had worked on a banner the night before, and the reporter couldn't wait to set it up. With this thought in mind, classes sped by and then let out for Club Fest. All the students rushed towards the courtyard, either to set up or sign up.
Pinning the banner to the front of her table, Alya glanced at the other clubs around her. The courtyard was full of activity, clusters of people fighting to lay claim on the prime tables near the school entrance. She and a few others chose to grab tables closest to their previous classes.
Nino and Kim were to her left, organizing a mock DJ booth. To her right, a dark-haired girl with a metallic headband was setting a series of books down in front of a pile of stuffed animals. Upon closer inspection, the stuffed animals were people and the books were Japanese comics. However, Alya was not the one doing the inspecting.
A group of girls approached, a matching sports bottle in each hand. A wavy-haired girl stepped forward, grabbing the attention of the flittering girl before her. The dark-haired girl paused and gave a small smile, "Hi, guys. What's-"
"What's going on? You tell me, Mireille. First, you keep flaking on pilates. Then, you start wearing that scratched up headband like those ninja weirdos from class. And now, now this-" she gestured her bottle towards the table as if it personally offended her distant great-aunt.
"I texted you that I would help set up for pilates club after I helped out with anime club..."
"Don't worry about it, Mireille." The girl punctuated her sentence with another careless wave of her sports bottle.
If you're physically active or happened to take advantage of those freebies from college, you know that these types of bottles rarely leak. Condensate and perspire like the world's worst poker player on trial, yes. But leaking, no. Well, that doesn't mean a damn thing if the damn girl forgot to screw the damn lid on properly after refilling it when class ended.
To everyone's surprise, water drenched everything on the table. Soggy books, soggy plushies, soggy banner, soggy soggy soggy. The wavy-haired girl had the decency to allow a flicker of guilt cross her face. It was soon replaced with a haughty expression, "There, you've helped. Come on, girls."
The group hesitated before following the wavy-haired girl. Mireille looked at the table, biting her lip. Her eyes stung, and her chest felt tight. She felt a hand on her shoulder and flinched. She didn't need them to see her like this. Mireille broke from the grasp and ran. There was a roaring in her ears, drowning out the distant "wait!" behind her. Running to her now abandoned classroom, she closed the door before sinking down to the floor.
She knew that the dolls would dry. So would the banner. She could replace the manga. So...
"Hello, Animatrix. I am Hawkmoth."
So, why not replace her friends?
-0-
Marinette splashed her face with some cold water and looked up at the mirror in front of her. Today was quite a day. Thanks to Alix, she regained enough energy to get through the rest of her classes. She also regained enough of her memories to realize she said some embarrassing things to Alya and Adrien. It wasn't even their first week, and here she was babbling and poking and urgh. She said as much to Tikki while drying her hands. They were alone in the girl's bathroom, with little worry of interruptions because of Club Fest.
"What's done is done. What's said is said. Did they act any differently after lunch?" Tikki chirped, flittering back and forth. Her chosen paused, paper towel hovering over her face. Alya was more concerned than impressed that The Thermos worked its wonders. Adrien, she didn't get to talk to. However, she greeting him bye-bye when classes ended, poking the same spot as before. (She didn't see him drop his textbook on his foot.)
Marinette shook her head, throwing away the paper towel. "No, they didn't..." she conceded. Tikki gave her an eskimo kiss (impressive, considering she didn't have a nose) and flew into her jacket. So, maybe the kwami was right. She shouldn't let the past dictate how she acts in the future. Instead, she should do what feels right. With that resolve, she threw away the paper towel and walked out-
-the door. Marinette took a moment to adjust her bag before the classroom door next to her splintered in half. A grey-blue figured sprinted away, arms dangling behind her. Marinette looked down at her jacket with a frown.
"Akuma?"
"Akuma."
She glanced around the area before returning to the bathroom. "Tikki, Spots On!"
Just like her previous transformations, Marinette felt the magic seeping through her body. It was like goosebumps on her skin, except it rolled over her like crashing waves by the ocean. A non-existent breeze kissing her skin and washing over her body. From there, the magic wove into her muscles. She felt strong. She felt fast. She felt indestructible. And somehow, the magic made its way to her heart and her mind. She willed herself to stand proud and to stand tall.
Glancing at the mirror from before, all Marinette saw was herself covered with a flimsy mask. She sighed, shoulders slumped. Then, she remembered her hesitation with Stoneheart and Alya. Just because she was afraid in the past doesn't mean she should be afraid now. Straightening her body, she opened the door and headed towards the akuma victim.
It didn't take long. Numerous tables were upturned, some by the attacks and some by students to use as makeshift shields. In the center of the courtyard stood the grey-blue figure from before. She had stark white hair and a fan in her hand. Ladybug recognized her as Mireille Caquet, a fellow member of sewing club.
Instead of her usual light blue blouse, she wore a billowing blue kimono. She wore only one side while the other half helped tie the kimono close. Underneath, she wore a grey skin-tight bodysuit. The kimono sleeve was wide, hiding her hand. Sticking out from the sleeve was her metallic fan. She used the fan to knock down tables and students alike with gusts of wind. Every few slashes, she would close the fan and point it at an unsuspecting victim. A paper tag would fly out the folded weapon, sticking to the person's chest.
The first to fall was a black-haired boy from swimming club. His shout turned into a shriek as he felt his swim shorts fade. In its place, he wore a form-fitting Japanese sailor uniform. He held a panicked look on his face, frantically feeling himself up with shaking hands as his newly formed breasts began to inflate and suffocate him. Next, a girl from book club shoved her boyfriend away from an attack and was hit in the process. She rocketed through the air from the sheer pressure of her nosebleed.
Both Nino and Kim were hit next. The DJ's clothes changed into a sleeveless jumpsuit, and his hat fell off due to the platinum blond hair that shot out of his skull. Nino crouched down, his legs spread apart. He held his wrists together, a white light slowly forming in his cupped palms. "KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-" Meanwhile, his companion looked exactly the same except he held a deck of cards in his hands. However, his voice dropped faster than a truck driver's pants at a pitstop as he proclaimed "the heart of the cards" would prevail.
All around the courtyard, trope after trope manifested itself upon the students. Uke. Seme. Tsundere. Yandere. Bishonen. Megane. All relatively harmless and a bit quirky, but man wait until she got to the tenticle porn.
In short, they really needed Chat Noir right now.
-0-
Adrien hummed, gathering his belongings from his locker. After talking with Nathalie during lunch, he was allotted fifteen minutes for Club Fest. He was surprised to discover that his current instructor also oversaw the fencing club at the school. With that information, he convinced her that it would be better to take lessons at school with others rather than at home alone. He may or may not have said that Club Fest sign-ups were mandatory (he honestly didn't know). She may or may not have saw right through that statement (she honestly didn't care).
He glanced around the locker room, making sure that they were alone. All clear. Opening his bag, his nose was assaulted with the smell of camembert. Plagg flew eye level to him, a demanding look on his face. "I'm hungry. Got anything, kid?" The pocket-sized god flew away and inspected his locker. All clear. "I was in there for hours. How do you expect me to function? Actually, how do you expect me to go on after you almost crushed me with that book of yours?"
The blond bit the inside of his cheek, remembering why he dropped the textbook. With how sleepy Marinette looked, he was worried that she would think that his apology was a dream. However, the Marinette that returned from lunch was significantly more awake. He still thought she forgot about the whole incident until she poked him on her way out the door. And he was so sure he only hit his foot and successfully protected his bag. Judging by Plagg's cranky disposition, he was wrong. He shook his head and tried to appease his friend.
"Fifteen more minutes sound good to you?" he asked, fanning away the smell coming from his bag, "I'm sure that the photo shoot will have a nice snack table with lots of cheese. Who knows, maybe Club Fest has a cheese club with samples."
It turned out that they did. After visiting the fencing club at the front of the school, the model made his way down the tables. He found the food and whine club in the middle of the courtyard, its booth brimming with hors d'oeuvres. The person hosting the table handed him a toothpick while complaining about the clubs that took the prime spots. She tried to tell him about her good-for-nothing boyfriend that left her alone at the table, but then Adrien found his classmates. As Adrien walked away from the girl, he pretended to eat the cube with one hand. His other hand slipped the cheese under the flap of his bag and into the kwami's waiting arms.
Nino greeted him, offering the blond a fistbump. "Hey, man. Glad you can make it. Diggin' it so far?" he pointed to the boy beside him, "This is Kim. Kim, Adrien." Kim gave a thumbs up without looking at them, engrossed in a conversation with Principal Democles.
"Now, young man. I distinctly remember denying this club every year that you've been here."
"You gotta keep trying, right? And look at these signatures-!"
"And look at the reputation of this school. We take pride on our progressive academia, but we also take pride in our traditions."
"You say that every year. If you agreed sooner, we'd've been a tradition by now."
"I will not have street dancing as part of this school."
"Well, if you let us dance inside, it wouldn't be on the streets..."
The two continued to bicker. It was a timeless argument, almost feeling like a routine.
All four were shaken out of their conversations by screams peppered throughout the courtyard. They looked up in the sky and saw a floating entity gazing at the students below. Adrien stared in disbelief at the female version of Sakata Gintoki. And was that a Konoha headband in her hand? With a wave of her (definitely not a headband) fan, she knocked down the nearest table. Several banners flew off as well due to the gust of wind, breakdancing club's included.
Adrien ran to one of the hopefully empty classrooms as Nino and Kim ran towards Alya. The reporter had her phone trained on not only the approaching villain but the approaching hero as well. "Alya, you dumbass!" Kim yelled as he threw her over his shoulder and ran towards the entrance. She elbowed him in the ear, trying to squirm away.
"Hey, watch the language. I'm trying to keep the Ladyblog PG," she snapped. She was no longer facing the battle scene, but thankfully front-facing cameras existed. On her screen, she saw one of the paper tags headed their way. "Incoming!" she yelled. The warning was too late for Nino. Through her phone, she saw him change into-oh my god, is he Goku and wow he looks pretty fly with blond hair. As for Kim, he quickly threw her over an upturned table before being hit himself.
In short, they really needed Chat Noir right now.
A/N: I've been busy with my semester wrapping up. Thank you so much for the reviews. They've cheered me up the past few days. :)