Chapter Text
Marinette hauled the bucket of paint into the living room, glanced at the orange stain on the far wall. Spotted the bundle of grey under the table. Sighed out loud.
Over the course of her life, Marinette had made many decisions that she’d since had cause to regret. She often reflected that making mistakes was part of growing up, but that didn’t really fix any of the mistakes. She had definitely made some absolute howlers across her life.
Like when she wore pigtails for a whole year. Or when she went public as Ladybug, which she thought would make things easier.
For sure, it did . It removed a lot of stress from her life, because she no longer had to try to keep her identity secret all the time. She could just be herself, and jump into action whenever that was necessary. It also added some stress, because supervillains kept coming out of the woodwork to try and nab the Miraculous from her, but she could handle a few supervillains every now and then. No, coming out in public – aha – was never really the problem.
No, the problem was that in order to counter the threat of constant supervillain attacks, she had to set up a headquarters. It was hidden, underground, and was guarded by all eighteen Miraculous holders – who offered to come with her and protect her.
At the time, she accepted their offer gratefully. And that was the biggest and loudest howler she had ever made.
"Argos! Argos, get back here! Don't rustle your feathers at him, he's just a delivery guy!"
"Vesperia! Those flowers are for the living room! Stop eating them whole! You're not making honey, you're just making puke!"
"Miss Hound! Don't drink out of the toilet bowl! That's disgusting!"
– those were but a few of the things she would have to chide them about on a regular basis.
The heroes had decided, in what little wisdom and foresight was available to them at the time, that the safest option for everyone was to always be transformed with their kwamis. That way, they would always be ready in case of incoming attacks. They also thought protecting their secret identities was important, so that there would always be secrets the villains didn’t know about.
Marinette thought the plan was misguided at first. However, in the time since, the plan had proved to be absolutely, incredibly, ridiculously catastrophic, in ways far beyond what she had ever expected.
The main problem was that the holders quickly picked up animalistic habits from their kwamis. All the other problems just flowed naturally from that one, central, terrible issue. Argos was constantly at odds with anything colourful, and also frequently clashed with Rooster Bold, who shared Argos’s love of grandstanding and aggression. Cleopatra, the new butterfly holder, would go into hiding in Marinette's clothes cupboard and chew on the fabrics. Pigella kept grunting about the lack of mud, because apparently, she wanted to roll around in it. She then allied herself with Purple Tigress, who would push flowerpots off shelves to make piles of soil for Pigella, and Caprikid, who ate the flowers and the pottery shards.
That was another reason Marinette was specifically happy that she came out in public. Because it meant she couldn’t pick up any bad habits from Tikki, like eating aphids or laying eggs all over the place. There needed to be at least one sensible person at Miraculous HQ who didn't work purely off instinct. And she could fill that role by just being Marinette, and not Ladybug.
She bent down under the table and stroked Polymouse's head to calm her down, then wrapped her arms around the mouse hero and heaved her out in the open. "Come on," she said in a low voice, though the effect of that was lessened because of the strain of lifting a whole person all by herself. Working at a bakery and moonlighting as a superhero had given her a fair amount of muscle, sure, but having to carry Polymouse and Carapace around all the time was still a massive effort.
Still, she could do it. She could lift every hero except Minotaurox and King Monkey, and luckily, both of those were easy to guide around to where she needed them to be. On the other hand, King Monkey also struggled to sit still and would get impatient the moment she tried to close a door on him.
And she had tricks with all the other holders, too, to keep them in line. Viperion responded well to a hard stare, but also to a stroke on the head. Argos was cowed with a broom. And to get Cat Noir and Purple Tigress to go anywhere, she only needed to open a tin of food where she needed them to be. Actually, she could almost pull the lid off anything, anywhere, and they would be there in a flash. It was uncanny.
She put Polymouse gently down on the floor in the hallway outside the living room. “Don’t come back in, okay? Go talk to Minotaurox. He’s in the arboretum, chewing cud.” Polymouse nodded, wrinkled her nose, and scurried off on all fours.
Putting eighteen people in costume into the same building had also been a minefield when it came to romance, because Marinette was the only person who knew who everyone else was, and certain romances were off the table without the holders knowing. She had to lay down the law early with Viperion and Purple Tigress: after Viperion started doing a mating dance, she pulled them both aside and told them they were siblings. Purple Tigress never showed much interest, of course, but Viperion looked like he would keep going unless someone stopped him.
A while later, she also had to inform Vesperia and Cleopatra that they needed to stop courting each other, because they were half sisters. Both of them had blanched something terrible.
At that point, she had also sent a whisper Cat Noir's and Argos's ways, just to get ahead of the curve. She had forgotten that Cat Noir already knew who Argos was, and that Argos was technically already taken. But the fewer close relatives she had to separate in the middle of something, the better.
Most of the current relationships remained from before. Polymouse and Minotaurox had gotten together, as had Caprikid and Rooster Bold. Rena Rouge and Carapace already knew each other’s identities and went straight back to their previous ways. Purple Tigress and Pigella’s flowerpot alliance kept them in close proximity a lot, and they seemed to enjoy each other’s company, but it was hard to gauge how much of their involvement was romantic in nature. They certainly slept on top of each other a lot, though.
Marinette went back into the room and picked up Carapace bodily. He snapped at her, but she held him at enough of a distance that he couldn’t reach her. Naturally, it helped that humans have less nimble necks than actual turtles.
“Come on, Carapace. I’m just getting you over to the arboretum. You’ll like it better there, on the fallen log, won’t you?”
Carapace snapped once more, but then seemed to relax. He grunted quietly, and pulled his arms and legs in closer.
And of course, Rena Rouge followed, bouncing around Marinette’s legs. She seemed agitated, in the way she often did when she was hungry. She’d gotten lazy over the past year; at first, she would hunt and gnaw on Bunnyx, until Marinette finally weaned her off it by putting candy and take-away hamburgers in the trash cans. So naturally, she then progressed into begging for food all the time instead.
“Rena, if you go with Carapace to the arboretum now, I’ll put a whole rotisserie chicken in the downstairs bathroom tomorrow. Okay?”
Rena bounced high in the air; she’d gotten the message. Now Marinette only needed to get the two of them to the arboretum, and then get all fifteen of the others sorted, and then she could get started on painting.
But before she got even halfway across the hallway floor, there was a bark and a groan from the left. Marinette turned around, still holding Carapace; the noise had come from Miss Hound, who stood there along with Cat Noir and King Monkey. King Monkey stood in a hunch in the centre, holding the grey unconscious husk of a costumed man by the neck. Cat Noir and Miss Hound flanked them, both with their hands around some other part of the poor guy.
“Wruh wround a rhief!” Miss Hound exclaimed proudly, grinning on all fours. She was one of only two holders who still spoke human words; unfortunately, she spoke like Scooby Doo.
“That’s good,” said Marinette. She looked closer at the man – it was Doctor Disdain, she realised suddenly, although he had been cataclysmed in the head. Putting Carapace down on the floor and giving him a stern look not to go back to the living room, she walked over to the three guards and scratched all of them on the neck. “Good job. King Monkey, can you take him to the infirmary?”
King Monkey grinned toothily and thumped his chest, before jumping off.
“Miss Hound, can you make sure he doesn’t get into the living room afterwards?”
“Rowl roit!” she barked, then pattered off to follow him.
Cat Noir purred then, and rubbed himself against her legs. “Come on, Cat Noir,” she said, stroking her hand across his back. “Why don’t you go sleep in the laundry room? The dryer is on, so it’s nice and hot for you.”
He meowled and arched his back with a yawn, but she knew he wouldn’t last. She folded her arms and sighed, and after a few seconds he realised he’d gotten all the attention he could: he trotted off towards the laundry room. As he passed Rena, she backed away from him; he didn’t even acknowledge her with a snarl. They had been at odds recently, ever since he got a little too cozy on top of Carapace; she had stolen his camembert in revenge.
Dealing with eighteen holders was such a hassle. She constantly had to organise them and make sure they were all cared for nicely – and she had to clean up their messes, and whenever there was a supervillain at the door she also needed to fix them up afterwards and send them away.
Most attempted thieves never returned after their first try. Doctor Disdain was currently on his thirteenth attempt. But she couldn’t just let him stay dead – that wasn’t right for a hero to do. She would heal him, later. After all the holders were properly wrangled.
When she got back to Carapace, he had already turned around and was on his way back to the living room. She grabbed him firmly and hoisted him up again with a stern tut-tut. “Come on. Arboretum, remember?” Rena Rouge followed with light steps, tail straight back.
The arboretum – a ten thousand square metres ‘greenhouse’ with fake sunlight, all manners of plants, and a sand pit – had been an absolute necessity. King Monkey loved swinging around; having a couple of tall trees allowed him to do so. Vesperia and Cleopatra also loved to flutter among the flowers; Vesperia was trying to construct a hive by the geraniums, which had had a very mixed success so far. Minotaurox and Pegasus grazed there; Rooster Bold loved to sit – and bathe – in the sand pit. Without the arboretum, life at HQ would have been even more of a mess than it was now.
Stepping inside, Marinette didn’t bother to scan the room Carapace was getting restless, so she needed to get him over to the pond immediately. Once she put him down on the log, though, he calmed down and eyed the water. Rena Rouge settled next to him, and Marinette took a deep breath as she gazed out across the green space.
Minotaurox and Pegasus were both grazing. Polymouse had already snuggled up next to the former; Pegasus was scanning the bushes, occasionally chomping down on a clump of leaves. Marinette walked over and stroked him across the back; he whinnied and rubbed his side against her, which might have been terrifying if he were actually horse sized. Pegasus and Minotaurox were two of the easiest holders to manage; they never acted out on their own and were perfectly content just doing their own leisurely thing. And if they were needed to deal with intruders, Pegasus could just transport them both to wherever they needed to be.
The only issue was –
“Tigress! No!” Marinette called out. She had spotted Purple Tigress in the undergrowth of the nearby forest, back arched and arms ready to pounce. Tigress deflated, and rolled onto her back, halfway emerging from the cover of greens.
Tigress never physically harmed any of her fellow holders. But the tiger instinct had planted itself hard in her; every now and then, she hid in the forest and jumped out at whoever was nearby. Minotaurox was rarely fazed, but Pegasus – with his horse instincts – spooked incredibly easily. The last time she jumped him, he voyaged a large part of the arboretum into space, and Marinette had needed to become Ladybug in order to retrieve Tigress, Caprikid, Rooster, and Viperion from the Moon.
“Go play with Pigella instead,” she said, pointing to Pigella: the girl was currently digging in the dirt on the other side of the room, either because she was looking for truffles, or because she wanted something muddy to roll around in. Marinette hoped it was the latter; she had already lost far too many flowerpots.
Tigress rolled over again and got up on all fours. She seemed a little embarrassed as she slinked over to Pigella and nudged her in the side with her head; Pigella grunted and leaned towards Tigress.
That was seven holders accounted for. Cat Noir would be sleeping by the dryer by now, and Miss Hound would be guarding the living room, so that left nine more holders. She headed over to the sand pit to look for the others.
Rooster Bold was indeed perched in the middle of the pit. Caprikid was also there. He seemed to be chewing on – a shoe…
“Caprikid! You’ve been in my closet again,” she said, striding over; he stopped chewing, but also didn’t drop it. Rooster puffed up his chest as she came closer, but she just fixed him with a pointed stare; he knew better than to go against her, even though he could in theory throw her all the way to the opposite side of the room. He settled down, and she returned her attention to Caprikid.
“That’s not food, eugh,” she said, nabbing the tooth-marked shoe out of his mouth. “Stop eating my shoes, okay?” He responded with a brief bray, then got up and trotted over to the side of the pit, where he bit into a large piece of grass and soil and pulled it free.
Marinette sighed and wrote this particular shoe off. At least it wasn’t one of her most expensive pairs. Then she glanced down at Rooster, and saw that he was still watching her defiantly. A suspicion rose within her.
“... Rooster, are you trying to hide something from me?” she said, folding her arms. Rooster let out a low cluck, and shifted his weight a little. The way he was perched was…
… she finally spotted the shoelaces poking out from under him. “Rooster! That shoe is also mine!” she said.
“Bok-bok,” said Rooster.
Marinette groaned loudly. She wasn’t really worked up about the shoe, because the other one of the pair was already chewed up. But she really wished the holders would leave her closets alone. That was another mistake she regretted every day: not putting childproof locks on absolutely everything in the whole headquarters. She’d need to order that some day.
Still. It wasn’t worth getting too worked up about. Sometimes Rooster Bold was just part Hen Bold. “Look,” she said, “just keep sitting on that. But you have to ask for permission, okay?”
He lowered his head. She stroked him down the neck, then did the same to Caprikid as she passed by him, and handed him back the shoe. Seven holders left to check.
Luckily, Vesperia and Cleopatra were very predictable, and she found them at their usual spot a little deeper inside. Vesperia was sitting by the geraniums in what almost seemed like a lotus position, while Cleopatra was fluttering up against a tree trunk. Cleopatra still hadn’t mastered the art of sitting on vertical bark, and she probably never would. But that didn’t stop her from trying.
“If you want, Cleopatra, I could activate the lantern,” Marinette said.
Cleopatra spun around, waving wildly with her hands. Vesperia, behind her, seemed unbothered.
“Right. Just give me a minute.”
She slunk in between the trees, towards the semi-cave. The spray-concrete structure was really there for a bit of shade for anyone who needed it, and Caprikid and King Monkey sometimes climbed on it, but the lantern was there specifically for Cleopatra. With the shadows from the trees and the structure blocking the sun, she could revel in the sharp light better than she could with the sunlight.
Marinette flicked the lantern on – but the moment she did so, she heard a hissing sound behind her. Which would be Viperion, of course.
He had clearly been rolled up on the forest floor, but now he had uncoiled himself and rolled onto his stomach; he pushed his upper body off the floor while holding his shins and feet off the ground, and glared in her direction.
“Cleopatra is coming,” she said.
He just kept staring at her, head dancing side to say.
“Stop that. The light stays on, okay? I’ll come back to turn it off later.”
His hiss was lazier this time. She walked over to him and petted him on the head, humming a quiet tune to him. The tune seemed to do the trick: he still stayed upright, but the sharpness in his eyes receded.
“Good boy. Now don’t bite anyone while I’m painting, okay? Even if you’re not venomous, it still hurts.”
He hadn’t really bitten anyone, ever. But given the snake instincts, she thought it was better to be safe than sorry. Cobras and vipers were both pretty venomous, after all. Then again, Vesperia hadn’t grown any honey-producing genes, either, so it was unlikely that Viperion would develop any toxin-producing glands.
She left him there as Cleopatra fluttered into view, and headed back to the front of the room. Only four holders left to account for, now –
“Ray rere!” said Miss Hound’s voice from the entrance; then there was a thumping noise. That would be King Monkey, then, and only three holders left – Bunnyx, Argos, and… yeah.
Bunnyx would be in the living room, Marinette was sure of it. Because Bunnyx hated the slippery floors everywhere else, and preferred to spend her time either there or in the arboretum. Marinette hastened out of the room, past Rena and King Monkey and Pigella and Tigress, and made sure to close the door behind her. The scratching on the door straight after was inevitable, but she knew Tigress was just whiny and didn’t really want to get out.
As Marinette passed by Miss Hound, she patted the dog holder on the head and said “Good job! Stay a bit longer.” Miss Hound only panted in response.
Bunnyx was indeed in the living room. She was hunched up by the sofa, where the extra-thick carpet started. Marinette walked over and scratched her behind the ears. “To think you used to be fearless,” Marinette sighed.
The stomping of Bunnyx’s feet might have been an expression of pleasure, or maybe a way to convey ‘I’m still fearless!’
“I’m taking you into the arboretum now,” Marinette went on. “You’d better not cause any timeline incidents while you’re there, okay?”
Bunnyx just remained in the same position. Her ears shifted slightly. Taking that all as a concession, Marinette took hold under Bunnyx’s arms, then under her bottom, and pulled her up. She was the easiest one out of all the holders to, well, hold – as long as she didn’t start kicking, anyway. But right now, she was calm and docile. Which held promise in regards to no timeline incidents.
“Come with me,” she said to Miss Hound, who followed all the way to the arboretum door. The scratching on the door had stopped; she pushed it open, simultaneously stroking Bunnyx’s back.
When she put Bunnyx down on the ground, Miss Hound slipped inside as well, and Bunnyx jumped over to the log to sit next to Rena. Marinette rose to her full height and put her hands around her mouth to amplify her voice.
“I’m going to be painting the living room,” she said. “Please don’t leave this room unless you have to. If there are more thieves, Pegasus can take you outside. Nobody else can use their powers, okay?”
There was no response except nonplussed blinks and distant stares. That was as good as she could expect, honestly, probably – there were no protests, at least. So she turned around and went to deal with the last two holders before she could handle Doctor Disdain.
Ryūko had claimed the master bedroom – Marinette’s bedroom – as her own. She rarely left it these days, ever since she had started to build her hoard: that hoard was made up of sheets of coloured paper, fancy weapons, objects nabbed off of supervillains, various refuse, balls of aluminium foil, scraps of fabric, and even a couple of things with actual monetary value. Ryūko didn’t hoard for money, though. She hoarded out of a compulsion to do it, and she hoarded things that held sentimental value for her. Like empty orange juice cartons.
Or like Marinette.
Ryūko also had Argos in her room. He was one out of two people allowed inside, other than Marinette.
Marinette knocked on the door. Then she waited three seconds. Then she slowly pushed the door open.
She was grabbed by the wrist very suddenly. The red hand darted out from behind the door and tugged her inside, and then the door slammed shut.
“Ryūko,” said Marinette.
“Marinette,” said Ryūko.
Ryūko was the only holder other than Miss Hound who still spoke human words. Dragons were often thought to be at least as wise as humans, so it made sense . It was fully possible to hold a completely normal conversation with Ryūko, and to reason with her, and to understand what she wanted whenever she was in any type of mood.
But she still had very strong instincts. And the hoard was one of her strongest ones.
“I need to paint the living room today,” said Marinette.
“You came to my door,” said Ryūko.
“I know,” said Marinette. She didn’t mention the fact that it was also her door.
“That means I can put you in my hoard,” said Ryūko.
“You know I have things I need to do. I need to take care of everyone. And I really need to fix the living room, because Minotaurox keeps rubbing himself against the walls, and Vesperia vomited a crysanthemum onto the bookshelf wall this morning. It stained. A lot.”
“So why did you come to my door?”
“Because…”
Marinette glanced over at Argos. He was perched in the high-backed chair over in the corner, and watched both of them with his normal type of fierce interest. But he didn’t seem aggressive. He wasn’t threatened. He knew where he stood with Marinette. That was what she reckoned, at least.
There was also a possibility that it had something to do with her not being a male rival.
“... I need to make sure neither of you come into the living room, okay? Because there’s going to be a lot of paint, and I don’t want paint all over the floors and walls and bedsheets.”
“Do you not want to be part of my hoard?” asked Ryūko.
“I – no, not right now. I just –”
“Do you really care so little about me?”
Marinette sighed, and took hold of both of Ryūko’s hands. “I sleep in here every night. You know that. I just can’t lie here on top of your hoard all the time, okay? But I’m still – I don’t know, I’m still part of it in spirit, I guess?”
“I need to know you will come back,” said Ryūko.
Marinette looked over at Argos again. He was, for all intents and purposes, Ryūko’s true partner. They had been together before the reveal and the construction of these headquarters. They spent a lot of time together. But he had never been part of her hoard, like Marinette was, and he seemed fine with that.
They just had very compatible personalities, in a way. They liked to be in control. But she could never control him, and he could never control her. So Ryūko went after Marinette instead.
And in the chaos that was her life, Marinette appreciated that stability. And she appreciated having someone to talk to. She appreciated the feeling that someone actually enjoyed her company, and not just her ability to give them scritches or canned food. She loved Ryūko, in a way. She just couldn’t sit in a hoard all day.
“I will,” said Marinette. “You know I’ll be back.”
Ryūko looked deep into Marinette’s eyes. Then – a tendril of water shot out from her and washed across Marinette, followed by a brief blast of wind that dried the water off again.
“You were dirty,” said Ryūko. “Full of hairs and dirt. I need you to be clean. If you are clean, I can rest safe in the knowledge you are ready for the hoard again.”
“Thank you.” Marinette let go of Kagami’s hands, turned to the door, and pulled it open. “Please wait here until I’m done painting, okay?”
There was a clucking noise from Argos. Ryūko, meanwhile, said “As long as you avoid getting dirty.”
Marinette closed the door. The two last holders dealt with – and the most difficult one among them. Now she only needed to fix Doctor Disdain, and then she could paint the living room, and once she was done with that she could actually relax for the night. With Ryūko sleeping on top of her.
She slipped into the infirmary and approached the dead doctor. She called out “Spots on”, and then, “Miraculous Ladybug!” –
– and then Doctor Disdain sat up with a deep heaving gasp.
“Good afternoon,” she said, folding her arms.
“... You ,” was all he said in response. He put his hand onto his face, as though remembering that it had been half burnt off.
“This is the thirteenth time you’re here,” she said. “It would be lovely if you could stop doing that. I’m supposed to be painting my living room right now.”
He froze. “You – you’re insane,” he said. “You live here with humans who act like, like animals , and you’re worried about your living room?”
“Yeah. I am.”
“You don’t deserve to have those earrings. They should go to someone who –”
“Too bad. I have them, and I’m not giving them away to you.” She grabbed him by the lapels and pulled him over to the exit tube. “Please don’t come back, and please tell all your friends at the Regiment of Darkness to stay away too. Have a nice day.”
The turbine’s updraft caught him the moment she shoved him inside, and he was pneumatically shot away at a frankly ridiculous speed. He’d hit the dropoff point some five minutes from now, and then he would probably return to Miraculous HQ in a month or two.
She transformed back to Marinette the moment he was gone. She didn't want to risk losing herself to the earrings, like all the others were lost to their jewels. The thought kept spinning in her mind while she returned to the hallway, though, that maybe that was another mistake – one she kept doing on and on again, to just resurrect all these people who were trying to steal the Miraculous but got themselves savaged by the holders. It would definitely be less stressful if their numbers were thinned. It would be less risky for her own mind.
But she didn’t want to think of it as a mistake. Heroism mattered. Not killing people mattered. The same way it mattered that she treated all her old friends well, even when they barely seemed like they had human perception left. They were still her friends. Even when they tried to make a mudbath on the living room carpets, or came bursting through the door with hunger in their eyes whenever she pulled a lid off anything, even if the lid was on a box of documents. She cared about them. And even though Ryūko was the only one who still seemed able to express that in words, she knew they still liked her.
That warm feeling wrapped itself around her heart as she returned to the living room, as she unwrapped the roller set, and as she moved the paint bucket into position. She’d made some mistakes in her life, but she could live with this specific mistake, because in the end it was worth it.
At least – that was what she thought until she peeled the lid off the paint bucket.
She realised just how big of a mistake she'd made this time when she heard the rapid pitter-patter of hands and feet across the floor. And when she turned around, Cat Noir and Purple Tigress were there.
“No,” she said, lid still in her hand.
Cat Noir started forward.
“No,” she repeated. “This is not food.”
Tigress yawned.
“Go back to the arboretum. Both of you.”
She wasn’t quick, or strong, enough to stop both of them. Tigress pushed against her while Cat Noir crawled up and dipped his hand into the green paint; then Tigress also turned around to put her hand in.
“Do not eat that! It’s not foo–!”
They both licked their hands at the same time. The reaction was immediate. They both yowled and spat, Tigress spitting onto Marinette’s trousers and Adrien spitting onto the wall. Then Tigress dashed away, out into the hallway, leaving handprints all across the light brown floor.
Marinette couldn’t follow her. Because Cat Noir got in the way. He stared sourly at her, and rose to two feet for the first time Marinette could remember in ages.
He pushed his paint-sodden hand into Marinette’s face.
And he went down on all fours again and ran too, leaving the same footprints across the floor towards the front exit.
“Hey! Stop!” she called after them, even though she knew it was futile. She stopped in the middle of the hallway, spatters of green across her legs and whole patches of it under her shoes, and a large sopping dripping green mark across half her face. The floor was full of green, and there would definitely be more green coming when the others caught wind of the chaos and came bursting out.
But the arboretum door didn’t open first. The first door to open was that to the master bedroom. And Ryūko stepped outside, turned to Marinette, and said: “You are not clean, Marinette. You need to be clean for the hoard.”
The hallway overflowed with water.
Marinette gave up.