Work Text:
“Marinette? Sweetheart?”
The other Marinette stared up at me with wide eyes, chest heaving, her grip loosening slightly from my wrists, which were digging into her shoulders, moments away from throttling her. I gritted my teeth, body tensing, when another voice chimed in from downstairs.
A voice I hadn’t heard in over a year.
“Marinette, honey! I baked some snacks for when your friends arrive!”
Heavy, familiar footsteps sounded on the stairs leading up to the Other Marinette’s (Othernette’s? Alternette’s?) room. My hands loosed their hold, and I straightened from where I was crouched, my eyes flicking away from hers to focus on the cutesy pink wood of the trap door. There was a creak, and its lip began to rise.
—
“Hi, Papa!” I greeted with a cheerful grin (that I frantically plastered on). I waved awkwardly with one hand while pulling my scarf (which I had panickedly yanked from my nearby chest) tighter around my neck. The evil Marinette was nowhere to be seen, having quickly leapt away to hide. Already sensing the inquiry about my health forming on my Papa’s lips, I hurriedly assured him, “I’m fine, don’t worry, I just tripped and fell. You know me, clumsy as ever, haha! Those smell great, delicious, thank you I’m-sure-they’ll-love-them-bye!”
I snatched the tray from him, placing a rushed kiss on his cheek and closing the trapdoor over his head. There was a moment of silence, but I soon heard his footsteps retreating back down. I sighed with relief, sinking down onto the floor.
“That was close,” Tikki squeaked, flying up from where she had been hiding behind the chaise.
“No kidding! I have no idea how I would’ve explained that.” I exhaled, dragging a hand down my face. “‘Hey Dad, thanks for the snacks! Oh, the evil alternate, super edgy version of me currently trying to choke me? Nah, don’t worry- this is just practice for a play we’re doing at school! Totally cool and normal teenage thing, don’t worry a bit!”
I paused in the middle of acting out the interaction, a light frown on my face.
“Actually, that might have worked…”
“Marinette!” Tikki reprimanded indignantly.
“Yes! Sorry! Back to the evil alternate version of me!”
“Speaking of…” Tikki glanced up, flitting nervously around my head. “Where did she go?”
—
“Your dad is still alive?”
Alternette leaped a full foot in the air, wide Bambi eyes snapping in my direction, where I was lounging on her bed.
“Y-yes?”
I tossed the cube-shaped night-light I had found in the air, catching it with one hand and repeating the process, watching it spin as it fell. I had had the same one when I was younger. Claiming to be old enough to sleep in complete darkness, I had gotten rid of it the night before I turned eight. It had been a lie- I had woken up screaming from a nightmare, calling for my parents, too afraid of the deep dark of the night to move.
Papa had come up then, holding me tenderly as I sobbed into his nightshirt and humming soothingly. He had pointed to my skylight, the pale tone of his skin catching the faint light that trickled in.
Look, Marinette! There’s a star! Can you see it? And over there- another one! And, oh, would you look at that! Can you guess what it is?
A-another one?
Yes! Look at them! Standing out like a grain of white rice in a chocolate muffin!
Rice in a muffin?! I had sniffled, wiping my tears. That’s silly, Papa.
Silly! Do you hear this? My little baby girl called me silly! This is outrageous.
Who are you talking to, silly? I had giggled then, fears forgotten.
Why, I’m talking to the stars. Oh, stars, do you hear this? There she goes again! Calling her dear old Papa silly!
Papa! I laughed. Why are you talking to the stars?
Because they’re such great listeners! I can tell them anything, and they’ll never spill.
Really?
Yep! And you can talk to them too! If you ever get scared at night, you can just look up and think of the stars. They’re always there, even if you can’t see them, and they’ll keep all your secrets.
Wow. I never knew they could do that!
The nightlight hit the palm of my hand with a thk sound, and I glared at its stupid little stars and stupid little moon. The stars in my world had seen the things I had done, holding whispered secrets close and screamed accusations closer. But these were not my stars, and this was not my room. I glanced up, eyes tracing the dimming blue through the skylight.
I had grown up a lot since then, and I was definitely too old for a child’s toy now.
“Still sleep with a nightlight?” I scoffed, tossing the cube-shaped device at Alternette, who had moved closer during my reverie. She snagged it out of the air, fumbling a bit before carefully placing it on her chaise.
“It’s good lighting for my bed.” She reached the stairs to the loft, hand gripping the cool black metal of the railing as she began her ascent. “What did you mean by that?”
“By what?” I grunted, throwing myself onto my back and staring at her ceiling. How was her room so pink? I mean, a proper use of light magenta and raspberry I could see, but blush and lemonade? Not to mention the occasional crepe or salmon. And there was not nearly enough black. Honestly, even if she was a little… conformist , I would’ve hoped she would have better taste.
“What you just asked. About my dad.” She was on the edge of the bed now, looking at me like I was a bomb that might explode at any moment. Which was a pretty fair reaction, all things considered. “Do you… not have your dad?”
“Nope.” I huffed, accentuating the p with a little pop . “He’s been gone for over a year now.”
“Oh… That’s so terrible, I’m so sorry.” Out of the corner of my eye I could see her face creasing, her guarded look breaking into that ever-so-irksome pitying expression I had seen over and over for months. “What… happened?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know,” I scoffed, shifting onto my side.
“I really don’t.” Alternette frowned, tilting her head.
“You’re kidding.” I deadpanned.
“No?” Her face scrunched.
“This isn’t funny.”
“I’m not trying to be.”
“You’re really going to make me say it?” A warm anger started to pool under my skin, and I sat up, glaring at her. She looked equally exasperated, shrugging with a look of dumb confusion on her face.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The busted peacock brooch? The mysterious sickness? You’re seriously pretending you don’t know about this?” I practically growled, bristling.
“I- wait, like, the miraculous?” Her face twisted from one of perplexity to one of dawning realization.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I spat.
“W-wait, no no no no no. You’re saying… Papa— your Papa—died because he used the broken peacock miraculous?” Her hands gripped the sides of her head as if it were about to explode with the information she was trying to parse out. “Then what did he…”
She looked up, her bright blue eyes—like a summer sky above the beach—peering at me with a startling intensity.
“You’re a sentimonster?”
—
“No shit, Sherlock.” Evil Marinette (or maybe just… edgy Marinette? Emonette???) snarled, kicking a pillow off the edge of my bed. She glared daggers at me, probably trying to will me out of existence.
“Wow,” I breathed, sitting back. “That’s… wow, okay. Not what I would have expected.”
“Oh, come on! ” Emonette groaned. “You may be a weirdo normie version of me, but surely you’re smart enough to notice the signs! Persistent coughs, dizziness spells, weakening limbs? Sound familiar, feather-brain?”
“No- wait, listen-”
“The cracked family heirloom that Maman and Papa hid under their bed? That dusty, crusty book, thick enough to crush your empty head, filled with pictures of heroes that we found in one of the damaged storage boxes? It was a puzzle practically begging to be solved. Not to mention-”
“Marinette, stop!” I nearly shouted. (Man, saying my own name sounded so weird.) “I’m not a sentimonster!”
I froze at my own volume, glancing down at the trapdoor to see if my parents would come and investigate. When no one showed up, I continued, hushing my tone.
“I’m not a sentimonster.”
Emonette scoffed, hugging one of my pillows to her chest and rolling her eyes.
“No, really ,” I said. “In my universe, my parents never had the peacock miraculous.”
“You’re just saying that because you don’t want it to be true. The first stage of grief is denial, you know.”
“Marinette, in my universe Adrien Agreste is a sentimonster. Not me.”
Emonette sat up, eyes widening a little.
“Adrien?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Agreste?”
“Yep.”
“Huh.” She sat back, looking thoughtful. “Bet that punk didn’t take the news very well.”
“Ehh…” I shrugged, grimacing. Her eyes darted back to me, squinting suspiciously.
“What was that for? Wait-no. Please don’t tell me you haven’t told him yet.” Upon seeing the guilty look on my face, she leaned forward, chuckling darkly. “You’re kidding. You know how mad I would be if he knew and didn’t tell me? I’d skin that punk alive.”
“You don’t get it,” I defended, a hint of fear tinging my voice. That terrible, crushing, constricting feeling was in my chest again, threatening to choke me. “I can’t. ”
“Oh, you ‘can’t’, huh?! Fine then! How about I go do it! Go bust through his window and deliver the good news!” She was actually moving, as if she meant to make good on her words. Nononono, no!
“No- you can’t!” I squeaked, lunging forward and grabbing her wrist. “I’m gonna tell him- I swear! I just can’t right now!”
“WHY NOT!?” Emonette shrilled, trying to yank her hand out of my grip.
“Because everyone could die if I did!” I hissed, tears springing into my eyes.
—
I curled my lip with disgust, about three seconds away from murdering Alternette. She was actually crying ( cringe ) as if it were her who was the sentimonster and not her boyfriend (WHO DESERVED TO KNOW, BY THE WAY. WHAT TF WAS GOING ON IN THIS DIMENSION).
“What the hell are you talking about?” I spat, finally managing to twist out of her surprisingly strong grip. “I may have been upset when I found out, and maybe a few people got mutilated, but I didn’t commit mass genocide or whatever.”
“Well, you didn’t have a freaking emotional terrorist waiting for the first chance they could get to akumatize you!!” Alternette fired back, actually getting angry for the first time since we had met. “If I tell him this life-altering information, and he does the normal human thing of reacting to it, then there is an incredibly high chance he’ll be taken advantage of!”
I huffed, rolling my eyes, but she continued.
“Plus, if I tell him, I’m going to have to explain how I know, and then I’ll have to tell him about how his father was Hawkmoth, and how I’m Ladybug- and the last time he found out I was Ladybug, he told Chat Noir and Chat Noir got akumatized into Chat Blanc and every single person on the earth died!” Her chest heaved, and she swiped at her eyes, shoulders shaking.
“Your Claw Noir turned evil and actually killed everyone?” Wow.
Kinda sexy of him. I bet Claw Noir would do that for me. Without having to be akuma-whatsit-ed. He just loved me that much.
(Also did she not know Adrien and Chat Noir were the same person? Seriously?)
“Yes, and- why are you smiling? ”
“Oh, no reason!” I smirked, tucking away the mental images of Claw Noir beating up people for simply looking at me wrong. “Do continue with your little list of excuses for why you won’t tell Adrien!”
“I’m not- it’s just- ARGH!” Alternette growled in frustration, gripping her hair in her hands and tugging. “What about anything I just said do you not understand?”
“All I’m hearing is excuses, and more things that Agreste deserves to know,” I sneered, crossing my legs and resting my elbows on my knees. “You’re being a scaredy cat. You’re ‘Ladybug’, or whatever! You can do what you want, and no wimpy butterfly holder should stop you.”
“Maybe you couldn’t hear me through your edgy eyeliner and hair dye, but being concerned about the end of the world is not ‘making excuses’!!!” Alternette hissed, looking ready to punch something. Do it, I dare you. Post up, buttercup .
“Well, you obviously solved it the first time, because everyone here is still very much alive. Just do that again!”
Alternette opened her mouth to say something, but stopped, blinking.
—
“See?” Emonette crowed, looking very proud of herself. (It took several inches of willpower to resist trying to wipe that look off her face.)
I glared at her, not wanting to admit that she might have a point. I did have Bunnyx on my side, and if I hypothetically were to tell Adrien… maybe we could figure out a way to avoid a literally earth-shattering outcome?
“That only worked because I undid what caused the akumatization, though,” I said, suddenly not sure whether I was trying to convince her or myself.
“So? Figure out a new way. Take him out of the butterfly’s reach. Lucky Charm yourself a forcefield or whatever! I don’t care!”
I bit my lip, actually considering her words. Sensing my hesitation (and likely calling me names in her head because of it), Emonette continued, closing in like a shark that had caught the scent of blood.
“Orrrrr… you could wait for however long it takes to defeat the butterfly… weeks, months, years… Tell him once you get it back, assuming you ever actually do. Maybe he’ll understand. Or maybe he’ll wonder why you kept this from him so long. Maybe he’ll feel angry and heartbroken and betrayed. Maybe he’ll wonder why you, his partner, his girlfriend, his most trusted accomplice, kept such important secrets from him for so long, hmm? If you kept all that from him, what’s stopping you from keeping other things secret from him as well, huh? What else could you be hiding from him?”
I glowered at my bedsheets, hugging myself as my eyes ached with the urge to cry. What if she was right? What if Adrien hated me for keeping this a secret from him? What if it was already too late to tell him? Would he be angry? Would he never want to see me ever again, and move to London and find a new girlfriend who had never kept any secrets from him ever!?
I was too distracted by my mental spiral to notice the smirk fading from Emonette’s face, replaced by an unreadable frown.
“Hey. Hey!” Emonette snapped her fingers in front of my face, getting my attention. “Snap out of it, normie-nette. I don’t know what’s going on in that loser head of yours, but it needs to stop right now.”
“B-but what if you’re right and he breaks up with me and never trusts me again and-”
“Oh my KWAMI, you are so unbelievable! ” Emonette groaned, throwing up her hands and falling back onto the bed. “Just tell him! He’s probably as cringe and pathetic as you, so he probably won’t even hate you for it right now. But you have to do it now .”
Emonette sat back up, looking me straight in the eyes.
“The longer you wait, the worse it will be.”
—
Alternette sat back against the wall, crossing her arms and grumpily contemplating my (brilliant) words. While, sure, I had exaggerated the possible effects a little —knowing Claw Noir, he might’ve been upset, but he would have forgiven me in a heartbeat, a week at most—it had all been to help give her a nudge in the right direction. I was too pissed on Adrien’s behalf- even if he was a weirdo normie prep in this dimension—not to say anything. I could still feel the anger from earlier simmering under my skin- I definitely was going to have to break some crap after this.
“Sooooo….?” I prompted, getting impatient. “What will it be, normie-nette?”
She shot me a glare, chewing her lip. She shifted as if she wanted to get up and pace her thoughts out.
“I… I don’t know,” she admitted, wiggling anxiously in place. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea right now. I just- it’s dangerous and- and Hawkmoth- his dad- he didn’t want Adrien to know, and, I mean, he’s dead now, so… I don’t know.”
“Ah, yes, the father of the year,” I scoffed, punching her cat pillow. “For some reason I don’t think his requests should be honored. But whatever. It’s not like it’s my relationship with my boyfriend on the line here.”
Alternette looked away, her face creasing as a wave of complicated emotions washed over her. Her shoulders hunched, and I could tell she was about to withdraw. Dang it. Okay, so, maybe Gabriel Agreste was a little too much of a sore spot right now (which, geez, Marinette, toughen up. Deface that tacky statue, tarnish his reputation, set some dumpsters on fire. Stop being so sad and get to the being mad part instead).
“Look.” I sighed, studying her carefully. “If you need to split up these world shattering revelations into bite-sized pieces- for your sake or his- then whatever. Do it. But at least start with Adri-punk’s identity information. He deserves that much.”
“Okay.” Her voice was small, and I squinted to make sure I had heard her correctly. “I… I’ll tell him.”
“FINALLY!” I shouted, leaping triumphantly to my feet. I grabbed Alternette by the arm and hauled her up with me. “Transform yourself and let’s go!”
“WHAT!? Right now?!” she squeaked in protest, but the red light of my transformation was already washing over me, and I would not hesitate to drag her indecisive ass all the way to that manor if she didn’t do the same.
“Hell yeah! The sooner the better, remember?” I tossed open her skylight and leaped onto the balcony, pulling Alternette along with me. “Plus, this way you can’t back out!”
“You’re not going to be there the whole time, right?” She stumbled a bit, but soon was covered in her basic red and black-spotted supersuit.
“Nah.” I tossed my yo-yo and started swinging towards the Agreste mansion, Alternette—now Ladybug—quickly catching up and matching my stride. “I’ve got better things to do than witness that cringe-fest, as entertaining as it could be.”
Ladybug glanced at me with a healthy amount of concern, but said nothing, instead focusing on the upcoming interaction. It took me by surprise when she spoke, still looking pensive.
“Assuming you were actually helping me and this does work out and he doesn’t hate me and the world doesn’t end… Thanks. I think. Maybe you're not so evil after all.”
“Never say that again to me, please.” I pretended to gag, making a face of disgust. Not evil? Ew. Cringe. Take it back, Sapinette.
UGH. After all this ‘helping’ or whatever, I needed to go find Claw Noir and make out with him after committing arson.
And before committing arson
And also maybe while committing arson. Yep. Kissing him stupid while setting one of those tacky Gabriel Agreste billboards on fire sounded like the perfect end to this day.
Kwami, it was good to be me.