#micrackulous

Flavia’s having… a pretty shit day, actually.

She’d arrived in Paris early in the morning, excited to explore the streets. Her goal was to make her Miraculous Ladybug fanfictions, under the name bookskitten a little bit more realistic. The fandom was filled with Americans who just couldn’t understand that Paris wasn’t America, and Flavia’s one goal was to write stories that were accurate to their location.

Of course, because this is Flavia, the personification of pre-Ladybug Marinette Dupain-Cheng, everything that could go wrong… did go wrong.

She’d somehow forgotten to put money in her travel bag, which was now uselessly filled with heaps of unnecessary clothing. Her scatter-brained state had made her forget to put on the comfortable shoes she’d set aside, and now her feet were being downright tortured. And somehow, miraculously, her monthly visit from the demons of hell had happened. She was broke, tired, uncomfortable, and in pain on the first day of a trip that should’ve been fun. Instead, she had to resist the urge to scream.

It’s final. She hates traveling.

If only some part of her would’ve known this was going to happen. She never would’ve even woken up that morning.

As she sits on a park bench, trying not to sniffle, a butterfly lands on her bag.

“Hello, Madame Psychic. I am Hawkmoth. I can-… Oh no. Oh no no no no no no no no.”

Flavia sat there, waiting for the inevitable black bubbles to give her her powers. Instead, Hawkmoth’s stupid ass kept muttering “no” over and over and over again. She was tired of him within seconds.

“You piece of shit!” Flavia finally screamed. “Am I becoming an akuma or not?”

Hawkmoth cut off his tirade, sniffling. “I can’t.”

“And pray tell,” she started mockingly. “Why ever the fuck not?”

“You’re too pretty,” the man cries. “I can’t akumatise you. I should be bowing. A goddess in possession of my butterfly! I hath been blessed.”

Flavia almost sobbed. She just wanted to be a fucking akuma. Was that too much to ask?

Before she can even comprehend anything other than how fucking much she wants to kill Hawkmoth, a bright flash of light brings the supervillain right in front of her. He’s kneeling, his head bowed.

“You look even more ridiculous in person,” Flavia commented at the purple man. “Aren’t you supposed to be a fucking fashion designer?”

He nods, tears running down his cheek. “Yeah. I’m the despicable asshole who exploits people’s emotions…” His voice got super high, and he paused to take a hiccupy breath. “…to fight against my own son.”

Hawkmoth gave in to his sobs, hands covering his mouth. Beside him, Chat Noir drops onto a knee, staring at Flavia.

“You defeated Hawkmoth,” he whispered in awe, staring at her in shock.

Flavia sobbed out. “I just want to be a fucking akuma already.”

Both men continued to sob and mutter about her beauty.

Off to the side, Manon tugged Marinette’s hand lightly. “Is that how you identify a virgin?”

Do you know what... I don’t even feel bad.