I'm verbose :)

 Ever since that day, the ridicule had been unrelenting. Oh, sure, being akumatized made you just as much of a victim as anyone else in these attacks… but only if you were likeable, or deemed respectable, or at the very least, found worthy of pity.

 Xavier Ramier was rarely considered any of these things. He was just the weird bird man. That his supervillain persona was also considered the most ridiculous to date didn't help matters any; he’d even made the Bubbler look good.

 “Hey Mista Pigeon! Why you waddling away?!”

 “Pigeons don't waddle, bro…”

 “Shut up! Hey, where're you goin’?!”

 “J-just leave me alone!” Xavier cried, waving a dismissive hand in the general direction of the approaching boys. “I'm b-busy! Very busy!”

 “But why?! We just wanna join you!”

 “We do?”

 “Yeah! We're just like you!” Xavier turned around, eyeing the approaching duo incredulously. They were both young, certainly no older than seven or eight. One of them had in his hand a chocolate ice cream on a stick, which was drawn back past his head. “We just wanna feed the birds!” 

 He laughed as he chucked his sweet treat at the rattled man, who stumbled back in an attempt to avoid the assault on his laundry.

 But as it turned out, he needn't have bothered, as before it was able to hit him, a blinding bolt of red and black intercepted it, smashing it out of the air and onto the road.

 And there she was, dropping out of the sky and landing between the children and their quarry like a guardian angle: 

 Ladybug.

 The one and only. 

 The boys lost their minds with glee.

 “Ladybug!” they yelled, overjoyed, as they ran up to the heroine. “Ladybug! Ladybug!” One of them fumbled around in their pocket, producing from it an ice cream wrapper and a pen. “C-can I have an autograph?! Please?!”

 She eyed down the boys, reeling in her yo-yo with a deft flick of the wrist, before standing up straight and extending a hand to them.

 He held his wrapper and pencil out to her…

… only to gasp, wide-eyed, as she picked only the former from his hands, scrunching it into a ball and depositing the litter into her yo-yos compartment.

 She stared down at them, her face the very image of stern, as she put her hands on her hips.

 “Naughty boys don't get autographs,” she chided.

 “Wh-wha…?”

 “Naughty boys, who go around harassing people in the streets, don't get autographs. Do your parents know that you're out here?”

 “Uh… umn…” The boys suddenly found the ground at their feet very interesting.

 “How would you feel if someone threw ice cream at you, hm?”

 “W-we weren't—”

 “I’m very disappointed in both of you,” she uttered, her voice steeped in judgement, and the two children shrunk in on themselves. Nobody wants to disappoint Ladybug; her young fans least of all.

 “B-but—” One of them tried.

 “Hm?” she cut him off.

 “We were just—”

 “Huh?” she interrupted.

 “I didn't—”

 “No, see, I'm waiting for an apology, young man.” She crossed her arms.

 “... Sorry…” they mumbled out meekly.

 “What was that?”

 “I-I'm sorry, Ladybug,” they said, a little louder.

 “Good, now say it to Mr. Ramier. And look him in the eye.”

 The boys fought to pull their eyes from the ground to look up at the disgruntled man.

 “Sorry, Mr. Ramier,” they chorused in a hollow way.

 Xavier didn’t respond; made no effort to accept it, let alone offer forgiveness. He did stand a little straighter, however.

 “I better not catch you being rude to people again,” Ladybug said. “Nobody likes a bully. Now…” She waved them off. “Go home and think about what you've done.”

 The lads didn't argue, taking a few tentative steps back before scattering off in different directions.

 “Look before you cross the road!” she called. “AND STAY IN SCHOOL!!!”

 Xavier gawked at the young girl, who stood, his back to her, as she watched the boys run off.

 No sooner than they'd left her view, she spun around on her heel, any signs of anger stripped from her features, replaced only with concern.

 “Are you okay, Mr. Ramier?” she asked, softly.

 “Oh, ah, yes. Yes, quite. Th-thank you, Ladybug. You, uh…” He tried on a cheerier tone. “You’ve saved me, once again! I’ll just be on my way!” He began to turn. “I’m sure you’ve got more important matters to attend to than—”

 “I’m sorry I never checked in with you,” she hurried to interrupt. “After the attack.” He stopped. “I… was so caught up with my own stuff, I never even thought to… make sure you were okay.” He turned back to the girl, who was peering down at the ground rather sheepishly, not unlike the boys had been. “So… I’m sorry about that.”

 “No no, that-that’s perfectly fine. And besides, Chat Noir already did his little, uh… ‘supervillain welfare check’, earlier. Talked to me; even brought a treat for Edgar and his friends, though— oh!” he looked about warily, making sure the coast was clear before continuing. “He told me not to tell anyone that.” Ladybug smiled.

 “My lips are sealed,” she said, warmly.

 “Gave Morticia quite the scare, though!” he laughed. “Flew onto his arm to say thanks, and he sneezed right on her! Did you know that he’s allergic to feathers? I couldn’t imagine…”

 “Oh, trust me, I’m perfectly aware.”

 “Apparently his allergy made him more of a liability than an asset during my… tenure as a supervillain,” he said, casually. Her smile faded.

 “Well, it was… inconvenient, but I’d never call him a liability. He’s my partner; I couldn’t do this without him.” Xavier nodded, his expression warming.

 “How fortuitous that you should have him, then!” he said, clasping his hands together. “He seems to think you’re better off without him.” Her frown dipped down into something akin to horror.

 “He said that?”

 “Well, not in so many words, but— wait…” he crossed his arms, his eyes rolling up to the sky as he slipped into a moment of deep thought. “Actually, he said it in exactly that many words. Hrm… we also had a surprisingly enlightened conversation on the importance of keeping cats indoors… discussed how I might be able to justify Edgar as a service animal— Oh! And did you know that pigeon feathers as accessories are coming in vogue? Why, he told me all about this hat—”

 “Hold on, hold on. Back it up, Mr. Ramier,” she approached a little. “What did Chat say about himself? In relation to me and/or our partnership?”

 “Hm? Oh, uh, well, something along the lines of… well…” He fidgeted. “Maybe I shouldn’t say. Our conversation… he didn’t say it was in confidence, but—”

 “I’m his partner. And his friend. If things aren’t alright with him, I should know. For Paris’ safety.”

 “Then why not talk to him?” he asked, to which Ladybug had no answer. “Maybe you could call him? I think he’d like that. He seems pretty… lonely, to me. He told me himself that he’s jealous of all the friends I have.”

 “... Meaning the pigeons?”

 “But of course!” He grinned. “He told me how nice it was that I looked out for them! But the way he said it…” He softened. “I can’t help but wonder who’s looking out for him…”

 “I am,” she murmured as she pulled her yo-yo from her belt, opening it up and pressing some buttons on the display. “Always…” She looked up at him from her yo-yo. “Are you okay, now, Mr. Ramier? I think I need to go and take your advice.” He smiled.

 “Of course, Ladybug, of course. Give Chat Noir my best. Oh! And keep up the good work! Paris is in good hands.”

 With a wave, she darted away from him, slipping into the nearby alley with her yo-yo to her ear.

 “Hey, kitty. Can we talk?”

Miraculous Episodic Shorts Series Master List

 Alix collapsed onto her knees near the edge of the track, where her race had started earlier. Ladybug felt something cold grip her heart, like a silent knowing; something was wrong.

 Everything was wrong.

 “Chat Noir?!” she called out.

 “I’m right here, m’lady,” said no one, for he was gone and she was alone.

 “Alya! Kim! C-CHLOE?!” she cried. “No, no this can’t be happening. They’re alright… I saved them…” she told herself, hoping against hope that maybe… maybe the power had worked. Maybe they simply ran, scared, before she noticed. Maybe Chat Noir’s timer was about to go and he had to split…

 But no; she knew better. 

 He hadn’t used his power — not here, anyway — and Chat Noir would never leave the scene without trying to waste as much of her time as possible, first. Alix shifted onto her behind, cradling the shattered remains of her pocket watch in her hands. The pocket watch she’d fixed.

 But not here; not in the time she came from.

 But in the time that Alix had created; the alternate timeline that she’d dragged her to.

 And when her other self used the Miraculous Ladybug, it corrected everything over there, including… sending them back to where they’d come from. She looked over to where her lucky charm traffic cone had been left, but of course, it had been left over there, not here. Had it been swept away with the ladybugs, or was it sitting uselessly in a timeline she had no way of reaching?

 She took out her yo-yo.

 “L-LUCKY CHARM,” she tried, tossing it up into the air.

 The weapon spun uselessly above and clattered down to the ground before her, without even a lick of magic pouring forth from it.

 Her miraculous beeped, warning her of the oncoming detransformation.

 She could hardly care.

 Chat Noir… Alya… her best friends were…

 They were… gone.

 But surely there was a way to bring them back; to undo the damage. She’s Ladybug; it’s what she does. She picked up her yo-yo and threw it out, zipping up to the top of the palace. Once there, she detransformed, catching her weary kwami in one hand and rifling through her bag with the other.

 “Marinette… what happened? Something feels… off.”

 “It all went wrong, Tikki, but we can still fix it. I just need you to eat, okay?” She held a cookie up to the kwami. “We need to power up and use the Miraculous Ladybug to fix everything.” The little ladybug took the cookie from her and bit into it, crunching away, but her face didn’t bear the usual bliss she took from enjoying her sweets. Quite the opposite, in fact. She swallowed.

 “I’m sorry, Marinette.”

 “For w-what? Just keep eating, Tikki. We can’t waste any—”

 “Has the akuma been defeated?”

 “Y-yes, but we couldn’t—”

 “Then I’m sorry, it’s too late. With the catastrophe resolved and your powers spent… even if you summon a new lucky charm, you can’t… it won’t work.”

 “No… no! You’re wrong! W-we have to try.” The kwami continued eating. Then, she looked up at her holder, her large eyes practically dripping with despondent sympathy.

 “It was Chat Noir, wasn’t it? He… fell…”

 “Keep eating, Tikki!”

 “I can feel it; reality is imbalanced. Destruction has subsided. Plagg is trying to rematerialise, but without his miraculous… he’s… gone,” she said, sadly. “For now.” She swallowed the last chunk of her meal. “I’m sorry, Marinette, but—”

 “Spots on!” Ladybug called, and no sooner than she was back in uniform was she summoning a lucky charm. Her yo-yo exploded in a flash of pink light above her, and it spat out a red and black-spotted bauble.

 A bell.

 His bell, or her miraculous’ best effort at replicating it, anyway.

 She ran her thumb over it, shaking her head with determination.

 ‘No,’ she thought. ‘This is not how it ends.’ She tossed the bell up into the air, calling upon her secondary ability. “Miraculous Ladybug!” she cried.

 The bell fell back into her palms with a familiar little jingle. The breath left her body.

 Still, she tried again.

 “M-Miraculous Ladybug!!” she screamed, sending the thing up into the stratosphere. Again, it fell back down to her. “Miraculous Ladybug!” Again, she tried, and again, the lucky charm remained, for now that the foe was gone and her transformation reset, the status quo was solid; immutable; set in stone. There was nothing to be fixed, for the world was now as it was going to be.

 But she had no way of knowing that; of understanding the arbitrary, unfeeling rules that wove space and time and fate together. So, she continued, unrelenting.

 “Miraculous Ladybug!” Nothing. “MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!!!” Nada. “M-mirac… please… please…” she pleaded to an uncaring universe, her voice shaky and sore, “... Miraculous Ladybug…” Zilch. She fell to her knees, holding the oversized bell against her chest. “Don’t do this… come on…” She tossed it up once more. “Miraculous Ladybug.”

 She caught the bell in a now-practiced motion.

 And then, she collapsed onto her side, a wobbly sob bursting from her lips with a dispirited splutter, as if she were expelling her soul to join theirs.

 To join Chat.

 Alya.

 Kim. Rose. Mylène. Sabrina. Chloe.

 She should have joined them.

 No, she should have been in their place.

 Chat Noir gave his life to save hers, and for what?

 It didn’t have to be this way, surely. She should have grabbed for her lucky charm before her counterpart — her heroic, successful counterpart, whose life was still full of the people she cared about — used her power; maybe she would have brought it back with her.

 Or maybe not. But if she’d thought about that before being dragged back here, at least she would have found out, either way. She curled up into the fetal position, that stupid, dramatic, cutesy bell of his pressed against her throat.

 And she screamed in a horrible, guttural fashion, her eyes screwed shut to block out the world as she drowned in her new reality.

 She’d failed.

 She’d failed her friends.

 She’d failed their families.

 She’d failed him.

 She’d failed Paris.

 And yet, through some cruel twist of fate, she was still here.

 Still alive.

 And doomed to fight alone.

Miraculous Episodic Shorts Series Master List

 “Then you get my point. Look, I know now that I shouldn’t have lied, but the alternative was that I clawed his face off — metaphorically speaking — on camera. In front of a crowd, and all of Paris, right next to the mayor. I was just trying to steer him away from you.”

 “The alternative was that you did nothing, Chat.” He sighed, rubbing at his eyes with his offhand. “What was he gonna do? Spam-call my yoyo? And it’s not your job to protect me!”

 “I’m your partner, bug. If I have one job—”

 “If today proves anything, it’s that I don’t need your protection! And I don’t want your protection, for that matter!”

 “Look, I agree with you, Ladybug. I do,” he said, trying his best to sound as passive as possible. “But the day I stop trying is the day I need to hang up the tail. I just couldn’t look away from that, okay? It’s not how I’m programmed.

 “Men like that… they look at kids like us and decide that they have to have us. And they don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and they don’t stop. You wave them off and smile them away and suddenly th-they’re turning up at your house, at your work a-and recording you when you least expect it, then the police get involved and your father is lawyering up and suddenly you’re just entrenched in a world of—”

 “Chat… what the heck are you talking about?” He bit his lip.

 He really should keep all that to himself.

 “Just trust me, okay? You gotta take a hard line with guys like that, or they’ll never leave you alone. We might be superheroes, but we’re still kids, you know? We aren’t invincible.”

 “Look, whatever… just never antagonise a civilian again, okay? Please?”

 He crossed his fingers behind his back.

 “Sure, bug. Whatever you say.”

 “Okay, good. Goodnight, Chat Noir.”

 “Goodnight, m’la—” The line cut off. “ —dybug… ah.” He sighed. “So that went well.”

 He briefly considered whether or not he should go on with the harebrained scheme he’d concocted. Was this really for the best, or was he just angry over his own unresolved issues?

 He steeled himself.

 If there was a time for this, it was now. If he left it till tomorrow, Hawkmoth would have had enough time to recharge, and then monsieur Barbot would be akumatized all over again.

 Though… he did say that he’d leave it alone. What was it Ladybug had said, earlier? ‘Liars are losers. Chat Noir may annoy me to pieces, but he’s never lied to me.’

 The sound of hurried footsteps — running — dragged his mind away for a moment and he looked back down at the street below to watch the plagiaristic Parisian he’d fought hours before enter into his workshop, carrying in his arms rolls of paper, stationary and other equipment. He looked excited. Inspired.

 Chat Noir’s lips curled into a scowl.

 “Welp… I guess I’m a loser, then.” There was a first time for everything, after all. Though, if Ladybug never found out, her confidence in him wouldn’t be shaken, would it?

 But he’d know.

 He reconsidered again, briefly. Whenever she claimed to trust him, have faith in him, he’d know it was misplaced. But if he let this go and Théo did find a way to get to her — to harass her with his misplaced affections, in even the tiniest capacity — and he didn’t make an attempt to prevent that?

 To prevent even an inkling of what he went through; the price of his fame? For existing in the limelight as Adrien Agreste?

 Any thoughts of guilt were washed off of him by a wave of newfound resolve. He clicked a button on his baton and placed it back on his belt.

 He leapt off his perch with all the strength he could muster and flew over the road, slipping through the still-open skylight in his descent. He hit the ground with a mighty crash, the concrete below cracking under his knee, and the artist yelped in surprise, turning towards the noise and finding…

 … nothing.

 “H-hello?” Théo squeaked. “Hello?! Who’s there?!”

 Nothing. Nobody.

 He was alone.

 Perhaps something had fallen? Yes, that must have been it. He was safe, and alone, and—

 “Whatcha workin’ on?” The artist screamed out at the voice that chirped up from right next to his ear, and he twisted, terrified, in its direction, coming face to face with none other than…

 His alarm faded. His horror turned to anger.

 … that jealous little brat.

 “You? What the heck do you want?” he said, glaring down at the boy. Chat Noir tucked his hands behind his back as he stepped past the man, making a show of looking around the shop.

 “Théo, buddy, what’s with the venom? I thought we were cool?”

 “I could call the police. This is breaking and entering!”

 “Well, if you wanna get technical about it, I didn’t break in, I just… fell through your skylight. Haphazardly. You really should close it, Barbot. You’re bound to let in all kinds of birds, bats… mangy alley cats. Ooh, that rhymed.” He turned to the man. “Besides, who’s going to take Théo Barbot, the ‘Copycat’s’ accusation against moi seriously?”

 The artist gritted his teeth.

 “You didn’t answer my question.”

 “Oh, I’m here doing my friend a solid. See, Ladybug is a girl with a lot on her plate. She doesn’t need creeps like you bothering her.”

 “Creep?! No, you have it all wrong, Chat Noir. I love her! I’m in love with her. And I’ll prove it!” Chat approached the man and though his posture and expression didn’t change, something shifted behind his eyes, and it unnerved him.

 “Take it from someone with his fair share of admirers,” he started, and then, his tone shifted into something angry, plainly threatening, “she’s a kid. You’re like twenty-five or something. Whatever you think you feel, it isn’t love, and nothing good will come of it.”

 “I-I’m eighteen! Not twenty-whatever! However o-old she is, we’re close enough in age that I’m willing to wait—” Chat Noir lunged forward and grabbed at the man’s jacket, and the artist yelled out, terrified, as he was flipped over and sent tumbling to the ground.

 “Oh, good,” Chat growled. “That’s fine, then!”

 The man scrambled back, eyes wide in fear as Chat Noir crawled towards him, animal-like, his face marred by fury. His eyes, wild.

 “S-stop! You— you’re just jealous of us! Of what we could have!”

 “Oh, sure, soulpatch. Nothing like a groomer with a man-bun to get the jealousy boiling up inside. Hawkmoth gave you power and the first thing you thought to do with it was chain down a child in your workshop!” He stood over the man and grabbed him by the jacket once more, leaning down to him with his claws extended, the workshop lights making the metal glisten above his foe. “Tell me, did you craft that trap for me, or did you have it just lying around, ready for use?”

 “I-I didn’t, I mean, I… it—it’s not, it wasn’t—” Chat Noir curled the claw into a fist and brought it down on the floor beside the man’s head, and he screamed out in horror as the concrete cracked as if struck by a sledgehammer. “Please, please wait! I’m sorry! I-I—”

 “I don’t care!” Chat Noir seethed. “You will leave her alone. You won’t talk to her. You won’t talk about her. You won’t make anything in her image. Or it’ll be more than this floor that I crack in two. Do you understand?”

 “B-but—”

 “I WILL LEVEL THIS BUILDING!” Chat Noir raged. “I will tear it down and turn everything it contains to dust! I will find everything that you’ve ever so much as had a hand in making, and I will reduce them down to their component molecules and when I’m done, I will find you, and take the time to consider how badly I want to know what a cataclysm does to a man!”

 “I-I…!” The artist tried to speak, but he was petrified. Tears brimmed his eyes.

 “And when I’m done with you, I will release this recording,” Chat sneered as he pulled the baton from his belt and pressed a button on the display. “Or snippets of it, anyway.” He hit the playback, and Chat’s own words echoed back at them.

 ‘She’s a kid. You’re like twenty-five or something. Whatever you think you feel, it isn’t love, and nothing good will come of it.’ Then, he fast-forwarded a moment and it was Théo’s words that played next.

 ‘— we’re close enough in age that I’m willing to wait —’ He pressed pause.

 “Imagine that one going viral over the Ladyblog. Do you understand what’s happening here? I will be watching you very closely, Théo Barbot.” He leant down until they were almost nose-to-nose. “I will destroy everything you have and everything you are, right down to the memory of you, if you so much as utter her name. This is your one and only warning, pervert. Do not make me come after you.” 

 He released the man and took a step back, peering around the room. At the drawings, photos, half-finished statuettes, so many of them of the girl he loved; the girl who wouldn’t see him. Who wouldn’t see what he’d do for her.

 Théo only looked up at him, still paralysed by fear.

 “All of this will be gone by tomorrow, Théo. Anything with her face, her name, polka-dots, I don’t care. Anything that’s even a passing reference to her. If I check in and see that you haven’t done as I have told…”

 “I get it…” he whimpered. “I understand. I won’t give her any trouble, I promise.”

 “Good,” Chat Noir uttered sharply. “Because if you think she hates liars, well, you haven’t seen nothing yet. Get it done.” He looked up at the skylight above. “And consider leaving town. Because all it will take is one slip-up.”

 He extended his staff and launched up into the sky.

 And he was gone. 

 Only then, once alone, did Théo Barbot allow himself to cry.

Miraculous Episodic Shorts Series Master List