Once you get this, you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly. Then you have to send this to ten of your favourite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool~) 🌈🌈
lmao wtf okay
um
1. ummm sometimes I like how I look I think I’m pretty ok looking! sometimes pretty cute if I do say so!
2. I try to be as fair and level headed as possible when it comes to my relationships with people. Like I have fairly strong morals and I try my best to stick to them.
3. I think I’m fairly good at understanding complex topics and thinking critically about them so I’m really thankful for that
4. I like that I’m a meme lord B)
5. im rly stubborn but occasionally that works out in my favor and i come out resilient
canadiangothstalker replied to your post: canadiangothstalker replied to your post: ...
Lmao tho my phone does the same like I would type out chloe, a legitimate child’s name, and it’ll change it to chole. Who’s chole. What does she want ,,,,,,
OKAY but I typed that post on my desktop and when i saw your reply it took me like 5 minutes to figure out what was wrong with it
Here is my @mlsecretsanta fic for @canadiangothstalker.I hope you like it!
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Notes: A bit of angst, but nothing too bad, I promise.
Marinette remembers last year when the snow fell steadily, coating Paris in a white shimmer. She had watched the city disappear that night from her balcony, wrapped up in a blanket, huddled under the warmth, smile on her face from spending dinner with Adrien. She had been different then – naive, stupid, blind. Perhaps he had been too, but Marinette can't stop thinking about how much she had missed.
Two nights ago, when the snow started falling for the first time, she had stood on the top of the Eiffel Tower with Chat Noir. It had been a normal night with no akumas in the vicinity and they had all the time in the world to enjoy the falling snowflakes.
But Chat's voice wavered when he spoke. “Ladybug?”
“Mmm?”
He stretched his legs out and dangled them over the city. His claws curved as if cataclysm crackled on his fingers. “What – if I was going to get you something, but feel free to say no because we didn't get each other anything last year – would you possibly want for Christmas?”
Marinette stared at him for a long moment before saying, “I don't know, chaton. Whatever happened to staying professional?”
“Me-owch.” His worry dissipated with a grin. “You wound me, my lady.”
She giggled before shaking her head. “What do you want?”
“I asked you first.”
“Chaton-”
“So you want a kitty?” Chat smiled broadly and stood up. “I can easily find you a stray. Cats love me.”
“I don't need a cat. You're already a handful.”
“Are you saying I'm your kitty?” he asked. His eyes reflected the lights on the tower and, for a split second, Marinette wanted to humor him, but then she remembered Adrien, so she pushed the traitorous thought out of her head. “If I am,” Chat added before she could tell him otherwise, “can I ask for something special?”
“Of course.” The words fell from her lips before she could rethink them.
“I know you think it's best if we don't know each other's identities-”
“Chat.”
“But, my lady, we've been partners for awhile now. I know you inside and out. I know the girl under the mask already, so please, can't we know each other's names? I want to know everything about you.”
Marinette remembers the dancing lights in Chat's eyes and the way his voice broke with his plea. He hadn't known that her name would hurt him. He hadn't known what it would do to their partnership. If he had known, he wouldn't have grabbed her hand and traced a pattern on the inside of her palm. “Please,” he had said, “Ladybug, knowing your name would be the best Christmas gift I could ever receive.”
And if she had known, she wouldn't have smiled at him. “You're right.” Chat Noir's eyes widened. “You know me. And I know you.”
“You do?”
“You've seen me outside of the costume, Chat. You don't need my name. Look hard enough and you'll figure it out.”
He shook his head. “I've tried, but no one comes close to you.”
“Chaton.” Marinette tilted her head at him. “I don't think you've been really looking.”
“But I have.” He swept his thumb across her cheek. “I've been looking for these freckles.” And her eyelashes. “These eyes.” Then he rested his thumb on her bottom lip. “These...” He pulled away, blush spreading across his face.
“And you haven't found me?”
“Your name is the last puzzle piece. I'll give you mine right now if you want – I don't know if that will make you feel better, but I can! You can know everything about me-”
“Marinette.”
He exhaled sharply.
“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Marinette gave him a smile and ignored her racing heart. Chat stared at her, mouth open and eyes wide. “I told you you knew me.”
“You're Marinette?”
She nodded.
“Marinette.” He repeated as if he was testing the name on his lips. “Oh.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? I finally told you my name and all you have to say is-”
“Adrien.” She remembers how her heart leapt in her chest at the mention of her crush's name from the mouth of her partner. “I'm Adrien.” From the mouth of her crush?
Marinette had stared at Chat Noir for what felt like hours, trying to put two and two together. Why would Chat Noir say he's Adrien Agreste? Why would he use a famous person as an alias? Why was he lying?
“I'm...sorry?” she finally said.
“It's me. Adrien.” He laughed nervously. “And – and you're Marinette. You were sitting in front of me this entire time.”
Marinette blinked at the boy smiling Adrien's smile. “Wh-”
“I can't believe I didn't recognize you from your pigtails!” Chat Noir – Adrien Agreste? - laughed as he ran a hand through his hair and spun around. “Marinette! Can you believe it?” He reached for her hands, but Marinette stepped back. Chat Noir's smile faltered. “Are you okay?”
“I-” Her breath caught in her chest. “I – you're-” Her hands shook as she reached for her yo-yo. “I need to go.” And before Chat could say anything, she swung her yoyo around the nearest building and flew far, far away. Far from Chat Noir or Adrien Agreste or whomever her partner was. She wasn't sure anymore.
She's still not sure two days later even after mulling over it. Mulling, obsessing, and questioning how it can be. She know that he's not lying – after sitting down and piecing together the last parts of that puzzle Chat mentioned – it's right there. Chat Noir is Adrien Agreste and she had been stupid and blind and naive.
“Chat's probably worried,” Tikki says, nestled in between the blanket and Marinette's sweater.
“I can't see him right now,” Marinette says, “I can't do this, Tikki.”
Tikki nods. “You can. You know both of them-”
“I never knew them-” She winces, “him at all.” Marinette shivers and tries to snuggle deeper under the blanket. “If I did – then I would have recognized him. I would have-” She doesn't try to finish her thought. It leads her down a dangerous path and she can't give herself any false hope when she knows their partnership is ruined.
“Marinette!” her mother's voice floats up through the skylight. Marinette takes another moment in the still of the Paris night before putting on her best smile.
“Yes maman?”
“We're going to start making the yule logs. Would you like to help?”
“Of course!” Marinette sighs, shakes off the last thoughts of the boy she's avoiding, and swings back down into her room. When she descends the staircase, her parents are waiting with huge smiles.
“Joyeux Noël!” her father says as he pulls her into a hug.
Marinette giggles. “Papa, it's not even Christmas Eve yet.”
“It's always Christmas in the Dupain-Cheng bakery,” he says, “especially when you keep making friends and we have to keep making more and more yule logs.”
“More business!”
“Marinette,” her mother says, “aren't we supposed to have a visitor?”
“A visitor?” Marinette glances in between her parents. “I thought we were having everyone over on Christmas Day?”
Her father smiles even wider. “Marinette, are you sure you didn't forget?”
Marinette stops and thinks. Alya's home for the night and her family isn't in town yet. “Papa, are you teasing me?”
“I'd never!” he says and they make their way into the kitchen. He hands Marinette and Sabine their aprons just as the bakery's doorbell rings. “Ah, I think our visitor might have arrived.” Marinette watches her parents share another look and she cocks her head at them.
“I'll get the door,” she says, trying not to laugh at the joyous look on their faces.
She takes the stairs two at a time and stumbles on the last one, almost crashing onto the floor in clear view of their visitor.
Adrien Agreste – Chat Noir – stands in front of the bakery door. He's swaying on his tiptoes, hands stuffed in his coat pockets as he waits. She doesn't meet his gaze until she's standing in front of him, a plane of glass all that's left between them.
He raises a hand in greeting, lips pulled into a half smile, but it doesn't brighten his eyes like his smiles usually do. Marinette hesitates before uncurling a fist to wave back. She doesn't open the door and Adrien's gaze glances down to the lock before giving her a sheepish smile.
After avoiding the boy for two days, Marinette wants nothing more than to run back upstairs and hide in her bed but she unlocks the door instead.
“Marinette,” he breaths when the cold rushes in.
“Adrien.” She steps aside and bites down on her lip. “What are you-”
“Your parents invited me,” he says before she can finish her question. “They, um, asked me if I wanted to help make your annual yule logs since I didn't get to try one last year with the whole...” He trails off and rocks back and forth on his feet. “I wasn't going to come, but...” He shrugs and gives Marinette another hesitant smile.
She knows that smile from both Chat Noir and Adrien. Marinette exhales and tries to find the words to say she can't do this right now, but her mother appears from behind the counter. “Adrien!” she greets him.
Adrien's smile turns bright. “Mrs. Cheng. Thank you for inviting me,” he says with a bow.
“Come on in. We're about to get started.”
He chances a glance at Marinette, asking for permission, and when Marinette does nothing but lift her shoulders in a half-hearted shrug, he follows. Her father had already turned on the Christmas music; he's singing along to Vive Le Vent while putting out the ingredients.
“Adrien, my boy!” Her father grabs an apron off of the hook. “I'm glad you could make it. It's always nice to see Marinette's classmates.” He winks at Marinette and she flushes bright red.
This time, Adrien isn't as oblivious. He's watching the blush spread across her cheeks and frowns. “Thank you, sir,” Adrien says, his eyes still on Marinette.
“No, thank you. We always need a helping hand. There's a lot of yule logs to be made this year. Marinette keeps making more and more friends and we can't keep up.”
“Papa!”
“Sometimes I think she's the reason we have so much business.”
“You know it's because your pastries are the best in Paris,” Marinette says.
“It's probably both,” Adrien exclaims.
Marinette swears she's turning even redder. “I – yeah, I mean-” This is Chat Noir. She's not supposed to get tongue-tied around her partner. Chat Noir. Adrien Agreste. They're the same. “We should get started!” She darts around the counter to grab the cake flour and ignores Adrien's gaze.
Her parents laugh. “Adrien, you should help Marinette sift and measure the flour.”
“No!” Marinette's head snaps up. “I can do it myself. It's not – he can work – I'm good.”
“It's okay,” Adrien says, “I can do something else if you don't want me to help you.”
She winces. If she imagines Adrien with ruffled hair and cat ears, she can see Chat Noir staring back at her, waiting to help, wanting to help, needing to help his partner.
“Chat,” she breathes, barely enough for Adrien to hear her. Marinette's parents are busy with the wet ingredients, giving the two teenagers a moment alone.
“My lady.”
“Chaton.” A handsome blush crawls up his neck at the endearment out of costume. “I don't know how to make this okay,” Marinette admits.
“Stay this time,” he says, “don't run away. I have a lot I want to talk to you about.”
Marinette knocks over the bag of flour and it spills out onto the counter. “About what?”
He doesn't answer. Instead, he leans forward and traces a shape in the spilled flour. Marinette doesn't recognize the odd shape until he draws it dangling from a bow. Mistletoe. When she turns to look at him, he's already watching her.
“It's a holiday tradition.” His voice trembles.
“Chaton.”
“I'm sorry if you're disappointed it's me,” he says, “but I can't be happier it's you. You know how I feel and I was wondering-”
Marinette steps forward and kisses away the next words from his lips. When she pulls away, he's blushing scarlet. “I'd never be disappointed in you. Don't you ever think that, chaton. I wouldn't be who I am without you. Chat Noir and Adrien.”
They might have been blind and stupid and naive, but it led them to trust each other, and Marinette cannot allow herself to think otherwise anymore.
Adrien smiles with tears in his eyes. “I was right,” he says, “knowing your name was the best Christmas gift I've ever received.”
