#partial reveal

[kasienda]

Love Remains - Ch 5

Written for @thelibraryloser‘s birthday.

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

Read on Ao3

Chapter 5:

Thirty-Six Days Since Marinette Lost her Memory

“I’d like you to do a supplemental reading this weekend to fill in some of your historical gaps.” 

Gaps was one word for it. She took the assignment without complaint though she wasn’t sure when she’d be able to do it. 

“Girl! Why didn’t you say something?” Alya asked as they walked to their next class. 

Marinette shrugged. “Because I do want to fill in my historical gaps?” 

Like in an abstract way if she could just suddenly know it the way she knew how to swing through the city on a yo-yo. Not the I want to dedicate hours of my life to this kind of way. 

“But you don’t have to do that all in one weekend!”

“Do you think old me would have said something?” Marinette doesn’t know why she’s asking. She hates the comparisons, but it’s like a scab she can’t help but pick at it when her friends and family keep commenting on how she’s different. 

“You like the green one? I thought pink was your favorite color.” 

It was! But that didn’t mean pink was always best for every single accessory. 

“That’s a beautiful drawing,” her maman said of the sketch of her father. “Have you sketched any new designs recently?” 

She hadn’t. She didn’t want to. Clothes weren’t interesting. But she knew her mother wanted her to say yes, so she hedged. 

Lila had spilled coffee on Marinette’s bag in art class. It had definitely been on purpose. Marinette glared at the girl as she resolutely gathered all her things to clean elsewhere rather than dignifying Lila with a response. 

“That was totally on purpose. Why didn’t you say anything?” Alya had asked after the fact.

Marinette piled her bag’s belongings carefully on a bench while she wrung out the backpack itself. “Didn’t really want her to know that she was getting to me.” Marinette’s diary had revealed that when Marinette make accusations against Lila, the other girl usually managed to twist it back on Marinette. She didn’t really want to make the same mistake when Lila didn’t believe she was holding a grudge. “Why?” 

“Well, you used to always call her out on things. Chloé too.” 

Marinette sighed. At least people had stopped asking what she remembered. Maybe they had finally figured out that she really didn’t remember anything. 

But it seemed other people did and Marinette now was apparently different than the Marinette of old, and now Marinette was never sure if that was a good or bad thing.

“If old you thought the teacher was being unfair or unreasonable, she definitely would have said something, but she would have been totally silent than if she just didn’t have time.” 

And thank goodness Alya was willing to be straightforward about such questions. Her parents were not. They were so diplomatic about answering such questions, but they always seemed sad. 

She felt like she was disappointing them. 

“What do you mean? You’re not disappointing them!” Alya had objected.

“But I am. They want me to be  her, and when I’m not, they’re sad.”

“They’re just worried about you.” 

Marinette pressed her lips together. Yeah Marientte definitely knew that they were worried. Paranoid was more apt. They constantly texted, wanting to know where she was, to remind her to put on a helmet, and asking for check ins everytime a friggin’ akuma alert went off.

Which made it that much harder to get away to be Ladybug. 

And she loved being Ladybug. 

Her parents would probably be horrified. 

“I just wish being me as I am now was okay.”

“Of course it’s okay.”

“But it isn’t , Marinette insisted, wanting to tug at her pigtails. She didn’t know how to explain, and Alya was looking at her with glassy eyes and Marinette knew she was disappointing her, too, though Alya was better at hiding it than anyone.

“You know that she’s you, right?” Alya asked softly. 

Marinette shrugged. She might be, but it didn’t seem to matter to anyone else.

…

Literature had become more bearable now that they were starting a new novel. It was a story that no one in the class had read before. Marinette found the story riveting. 

“Really?” Adrien asked. They had been partnered for a small presentation on the use of imagery in the book’s first three chapters. “What’s your favorite part so far?” 

Goodness, he was so earnest. Even when they had been paired he had been so sweet about it when she was obviously the weaker link of the two of them.

“Sorry you were saddled with me for this project,” she had said.

“Marinette, you are the best partner to have in this whole world. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

Her cheeks had burned. Was this guy for real? She might’ve maybe understood what it was old Marinette had liked about him.

Really she probably would have fallen for him too if it wasn’t for the fact that Chat Noir was right there guarding her life and being serving as the best sounding board and confidant a girl could ask for. 

“Hey, you okay?” he asked after the most recent akuma. 

She was fine. She just didn’t want to stop being Ladybug yet. Being Ladybug made sense. Being Ladybug was simple and something she was good at. Marinette’s life was so complicated. 

“I’m okay,” she said, determined for it to be true. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Like, how did he do that?!

But fifteen minutes later they were sitting side by side on the Eiffel Tower each with their own ice cream cones as she vented to him about her mundane problems.

“I hate history. It’s the subject I know, like nothing about and my teacher— he’s trying to be patient, but he clearly doesn’t know what to do with me. He keeps assigning extra readings, but even when I have time to read them. They don’t mean anything.” 

“That must be frustrating.”

She snorted. Understatement. “Even places on a map feel no more real than the map at the beginning of the fantasy novel we’re reading in literature.”

“I don’t know about history itself, but maybe we could do something about the geography?” 

He stands up, and offers her a hand, which she of course takes. He pulls her to her feet like she’s a princess and pulls out a box of colored cheeses from his baton. 

“What’s that?” 

“These are power ups for our Kwamis.” 

“We can power up our Kwamis?” 

He offers her a piece of cheese. “Eat this one.” He takes one of the same color. 

Soon they’re transformed. They have airtight helmets and wings. He levitates just barely into the air. She doesn’t move, staring dumbly at his offered hand. 

“Come on. I’ll show you.” His voice resounds inside her helmet. It feels both like he’s far away and like he’s all around her. 

She again takes it, because she’d trust him to take her anywhere. 

He led her on a low altitude tour of Paris, pointing out landmarks that are historically significant. But he doesn’t just recount events. When he speaks of kings and dukes, he tells a story. And suddenly King Louis VI and King Louis the XIV are not only separated by time, but by personality and vision.

They’ve been flying for hours already, when he takes her higher. They’re above the clouds, starting to see the curvature of the earth when he points out Normandy, the United Kingdom, Germany, and Spain. 

And then they’re further out, beyond even air they can breathe, and the Earth shines below them, a glowing blue marble in a vastness of inky blackness. 

She can’t breathe as she takes in the sight. There’s a whole world down there. It’s so big, bigger than any of her problems, and yet it’s so small when they’re out here in space. 

His voice is still describing the places they can see. Continents and oceans, but she can’t process the words anymore. 

“M’lady?” he asks, floating to her side with yet another hand reaching out, offering her support again and again. 

“You’re amazing!” she says, and is awarded with pink blooming underneath his visor. And he was. How did old Marinette never see or notice?! 

He never takes anything seriously. 

He’s always cracking jokes. 

He flirts with everyone.

Marinette had slammed the diary closed after she read it. What the hell had old Marinette been talking about?!

She had started a new diary after that, and it definitely wasn’t Adrien she had been writing about. 

Looking at his eyes now, even with only five weeks of memories she’s absolutely certain he’s the sweetest, most genuine boy that lives on the planet he just showed her. And he didn’t just show it to her. He made her see it, he made it real in a way that no one else had. 

She reaches for his hand, lets their fingers interlock, and it feels right.

Holding his hand, she’s not worried about how she’s different or the same. It doesn’t matter what she remembers or has forgotten. With him, she feels like a whole complete person.

She loves that.

She loves him.

… 

[yaknowlikenyah]

We love getting dressed for our five minute commutes to grab food.

[goldenpinof]

"all or nothing" dance for @simplydnp

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Gaslighter? I hardly know her!

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[reunitedinterlude]

dnp having two different conversations (x)

[wiki-howell]

god they're phlirting...

[putting-kinger-in-places]

Armed Detective Agency, Yokohama

[codexu]

Hey guys, my pride flag arrived, what do Y'all think?

[acertifiedmoron]

yeah overthinking prophecies is the mind killer but i have to say my piece re azor ahai, that is, if it's really meant to be one character, then the best narrative choice is dany. not only because she fulfills every word of the prophecy an entire book before we even learn of its existence. but also "no one ever looked for a girl," aemon tells us. in-universe her gender precludes her from being imagined as the saviour figure and on a meta level even the readers don't think the 16 year old girl with this much power (dragons) will be allowed to keep that power and fulfill an important narrative destiny as a hero of the story. the expectation is that the character will be brought low and/or surpassed by the classic warrior hero archetype of jon. which is why i think dany being AA is the most subversive choice. and would actually make jon the red herring.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[kasienda]

Love Remains - Ch 7

Written for @thelibraryloser‘s birthday, which was way back in July! But I'm making steady progress again! Woot!

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

Read on Ao3

Chapter 7

Forty-three days since Marinette lost her memory. 

Like some kind of cosmic joke, Adrien seeks her out the next day constantly. She tries, but she can’t seem to avoid him. 

“Marinette,” he whispers in math class. “Can we please talk?” 

“I don’t know what there would be for us to talk about,” she says, refusing to look at him. Instead, she pretends to focus on her notes, though she’s still so angry she can barely read any of it.

Is she being unreasonable? 

Probably. 

Does she care? 

No. Adrien had done nothing wrong. She knows that, but he is also there, an easy scapegoat when she can’t actually lash out at the person who is actually ruining everything.  

Her former self. 

But she also doesn’t owe Adrien anything. She doesn’t have to talk to him. 

“Marinette, please,” he begs at the end of class when she skirts around him. 

Something within her snaps, and she whirls back around to face him. 

“What?!”

He recoils, looking like a kicked puppy more than anything else. 

He’s done nothing wrong, she reminds herself. 

She closes her eyes, and forces herself to take a breath. She opens her eyes again. 

“I’m sorry. What do you need?” 

“I need to tell you something. Something important.” 

She raises her eyebrows, hoping that is enough to goad him forward because she doesn’t trust herself to speak. 

He clears his throat, and his hand finds a home at the back of his neck. “I don’t know how to say this—“ He suddenly makes eye contact and his whole face softens. His eyes are gentle, and his smile— well, she can’t breathe. 

It’s too much, too intimate. It feels like he’s going to confess, and she can not handle that. 

“I don’t love you,” she cuts him off. 

His face crumples. She feels like she’s kicked him again. 

“I don’t love you,” she says again softly. “I’m sorry. The old Marinette did, but I can’t… I don’t feel that way about you. I’m sorry.” And she was. 

But he smiles, his eyes sparkling with some amusement and she feels like she’s misreading the whole situation. “No, it’s okay.”

She shakes her head, tugging at her pigtails. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“Please don’t worry about me.” 

“I’m just so frustrated!” 

“Do you… umm… want to talk about it?” he offers, and he’s being so patient and kind after she was totally a jerk and she hates that she suddenly understands why old Marinette liked him. 

“I love someone else, but he knows that she liked you and he won’t let anything happen between us because of it. And don’t get me wrong, you’re very sweet. But…” she bites her lip, “you’re not him.” 

“Well, act—“

“But I’m really mad at him right now!”

“Oh, yeah. That makes sense.” 

“I just— I wish that I was enough.” 

“You are!” 

She shakes her head, her eyes burn with threatened tears. 

“No, I’m not. Everyone wants me to be her. He trusts her thoughts and feelings more than mine.” 

He pulls her into a hug. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “That sounds really hard.” 

In the face of his understanding, she loses the battle against her tears. 

He holds her tighter. 

“Marinette.” Her name on his tongue holds so much feeling - more feeling than she knows what to do with. “You don’t have to be like her if you don’t want to be. You get to choose. And you certainly don’t owe me anything based on what she felt—“

She pulls out of his arms, to look at his face that is shining with affection and never ending patience. 

“—but just so you know, from where I’m standing, you’re not some pale echo version of her. You are her. Deciding to let go of the past, and strike out on your own to be true to yourself— well, that’s exactly what she would do. What you are doing.” 

Oh yeah, she definitely understands now how Marinette fell in love with this boy.

But he’s still not Chat Noir. 

“Thank you for saying all that and for letting me unload on you,” she says, wiping her tears away. 

He smiles. “Anytime.” 

“I wish— I wish he understood as well as you do.” 

He glances away, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Maybe he does. Or maybe you just have to explain it to him.”

She nods. “You’re right. Thank you. I understand now why she loved you.” 

Heat blooms across his face and she laughs.

“Marinette, I—“ 

She clamps a hand over his mouth. She can’t let him say anything else. He is way too sweet. “Please don’t. I… I want to talk to him before you say anything else.” 

His shoulders relax, and a smile stretches under her hand.

He nods. “I understand. I would wish you luck, but I don’t think you need it.” 

“Thank you, Adrien.”

When she walks away, she feels light, free, and comfortable in her own skin.

Because Adrien is right. This is her life and she will make her own choices, and she just needs to say that.

And not just to Chat Noir. 

To everyone. 

[basicallyedd]

he likes to read the news some mornings before he gets up

[goldenpinof]

well, hello to the infamous bin :) for @ahappydnp

[originalartblog]

coughs really loudly women