#aaah this post feels like a tiny word scrapbook of the fic so far

[coffeebanana]

In honour of today being the one-year anniversary of when I posted the first chapter of Say Something, I wanted to--ahem--say something about this fic. And I thought about sharing the beginning of the next chapter, but 1. it's still the first draft so it's fairly rough, and 2. it's not very representative of the fic as a whole.

Instead, I thought I'd pick short passage I like from each chapter I've posted so far, because what is my tumblr for if not a little shameless self-promo, and I'm proud of the writing (read: neverending rewriting) I've done for this fic!! Plus this gives me an excuse to list all of my chapter titles which I really love as well ahaha.

(And for anyone who hasn't had a chance to read yet, I'll drop the link to chapter 1 here!! If you're interested in ladrien and/or prpr hurt/comfort featuring sentiadrien angst, then this is the fic for you!!)

Snippets are under the cut!

from chapter 1: Maybe They Sell Amok Chains at the Hospital Gift Shop

Ladybug faced away from him now, her stance rigid as she stared out the window. She kept one hand wrapped around the ring, which hung from a chain around her neck. Adrien wondered for a moment where she’d found the chain—she hadn’t left his side for long yesterday. Maybe her yo-yo had a secret stash of Amok chains. Maybe they were sold at the hospital gift shop. She could have fetched one when the doctors took him for scans. When they’d ensured he wasn’t quite bleeding to death by his father’s hand—only almost. Was a gift shop trinket really strong enough to entrust with the ring responsible for Adrien’s life? Hard to tell—that wasn’t the sort of thing people included on promotional signage. And that was…just about right. Adrien’s very existence was false advertising.

from chapter 2: Failure Sounds Like a Dripping Tap

The bathroom sink had been dripping the entire time, but suddenly it was all Marinette could hear. Suddenly it made her skin crawl. She knew there was a way to make it stop—a particular way to twist the handle—but she couldn’t find the energy for that. So the tap kept dripping, each drop serving as a reminder of the mess she'd made. Drip. She let Gabriel get away. Drip. She was failing her team. Drip. Adrien wouldn’t even look her in the eyes.

from chapter 3: Popcorn Ceilings Are No Substitute For Cloud Watching

This time when she sighed, Adrien felt her breath against the back of his neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Would those bumps make patterns like the ceiling? If Ladybug could read their warnings, would she back down? “Please,” Adrien whispered. He didn’t have words to explain, but he needed this. Panic sank its claws into him, tearing through old scars that never had a proper chance to heal. The chain bearing his Amok grew heavier. Would he ever get to make his own decisions?

from chapter 4: The Stars Don’t Always Lie 

Outside had been about…existing, mostly. About casual touches and errant thoughts. Inside expected a certain something. Words. Interaction. Progress. Adrien had no idea how to go about any of that. He didn’t even realize Ladybug had spoken until she placed a hand on his arm. “Chaton? You okay?” “Fine.” He couldn’t be terrible if he wasn’t entirely present, right? If some part of him seemed to have remained up on the roof, still longing for that freedom he’d barely gotten a taste of?

from chapter 5: Still A Mere Facade

Adrien was curled up on his side, sliding his phone lethargically back and forth across the blanket. He’d been listless all morning, answering her questions a beat too late or not at all. It wasn’t quite the same as the past few days’ silent treatment, but he was still a far cry from the Adrien—and the Chat Noir—that she knew. Marinette just wished she could think of something to say. But the longer she sat there, the more pressure she felt to speak, which in turn made it even harder to cobble together coherent thoughts. And she really had tried everything—there were shockingly few internet resources for how to help your partner come out as a sentibeing. In a last ditch attempt at finding some guidance, she was about to check the copy of the Guardians’ Grimoire she kept on her phone when Adrien froze, inhaling sharply. It took her a moment to figure out why, a moment to process that the other sound she’d heard was that of his phone rolling over the chain bearing his Amok. It always came back to the ring.

from chapter 6: As The World Flickers In Slow Motion

“It’s not stupid.” Nino assured him. “Your feelings aren’t stupid. They’re just… they’re you.” Adrien bit his lip. “Are they, though?” “What do you mean?” Adrien hooked a thumb under the chain around his neck, watching as his Amok hung in the space between him and Nino. “My father had this. The man who never wanted me to go anywhere or do anything. You really think he didn’t use it?”

from chapter 7: Believing in Moments To Come

Nino and Adrien sat side by side against the headboard, Nino smiling at Alya who stood beside him. She was still pulling out folders, stacking them on the bedside table while her eyes lingered on the pizza boxes stacked between the boys. Adrien paid them no attention—his eyes were glued to the spot where Marinette entered the room. He smiled when he saw her. Marinette would have done anything to freeze that moment—finally, a moment where his smile felt real. Where his eyes sparkled the way they had for years whenever he saw her, where his lips curved softly like every time he’d caught her before she could fall. Maybe Alya was right. Maybe she hadn’t screwed everything up.

from chapter 8: Like Molecules In A Gas

He flinched when Ladybug touched his shoulder. “Are you ready?” Midway through her question, an air vent whirred to life overhead, almost seeming to trap her words inside. It would explain why they sounded so far away. Adrien felt just like the air forced through the tube—it didn’t matter what trajectory its individual molecules took, how many times they collided with each other or the walls throughout their journey. In the end, they had no choice but to follow an overarching path, and he had no choice but to keep moving forward either. If only he could remember how to reply.

from chapter 9: A Colour of Wanting More

[...] “The point is, you have strengths and flaws. You make mistakes. You learn. You…you’re human.” His gut plummeted. “Am I, though?” “Yes,” she insisted. “I don’t know how to convince you, but—well, okay, how about this? They took a blood sample, when you were in the hospital. In case…” She shuddered. “Obviously they didn’t find anything strange, or they would have said something. And I’m sure if they did a DNA test, that would come back normal too. If you wanted, I could figure out how to get one done. I’m sure it’s easy.” “I…maybe. But—” “But what? You have a blood type, and…a heartbeat—probably all your organs in the right place too, because they never said anything about that either. And you just…you have this incredible capacity to love people, and you have—” “Existential crises?” “I—well,” she spluttered. “That’s not exactly what I was going for, but…yeah.” She gave a huff of amusement. “I suppose that’s pretty human of you.”

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Thank you to everyone who's been reading and interacting with this fic so far! I appreciate you all so much!!