Let's Talk about Show Don't Tell

[Heliotrope]

You almost have to go out of your way to write badly to craft an example of what people seem to mean by "telling".

Yeah, this is my issue right now with trying to explain my examples to Devor... lol. I can't write an example to show what I mean by large scale "telling". It would have to be an entire scene, and for the sake of this thread that is just too much.

David Farland on his writing advice blog has talked about how "Show Don't Tell" makes sense if you're making a movie and thus need to tell the story visually. But it makes much less sense when you're writing a book which is not a visual medium. Your goal is to make the reader experience the story, but since the story only becomes fully formed in the imagination of the reader and the imagination is by no means restricted to visual input. And yet, it does seem that most people instinctively think about writing out actions that could (if this were happening in real life) be seen with the eyes when they talk about "showing". This has led to a trend for "cinematic" writing, or writing your story as if you were a camera lens recording what you see.

I really identify with this. When I first joined this site a few years back I had been teaching high school lit. I had just finished my masters in lit...I was used to reading a lot of "literary" stuff. Literary stuff is written in a very different voice than the cinematic fantasy we see so much of. It is the telly, old voice stuff that is so nuanced and convoluted and thick with metaphor and symbolism it almost never gets made into films (sometimes mini series, but never films). Thinking I was trying to write fantasy, I tried to teach myself this new way of writing narrative. This very showy, movie type third person style. "Through the eyes of the character"... I don't want to say it made my writing worse....but......

Anyway, after I realized it was just not working for me, I had to sort of un-teach myself showing. Go back to being okay with telling a story. Gaiman helped me to do this. I love Gaiman because he had the literary style I like (and am used to). He is okay simply telling a story, which is why you won't see Neverwhere in theaters any time soon. Lol.

I think this is why I'm so drawn to first person narrative, as well.

So it is like there are two definitions of "show, don't tell." The one that is referring to narrative, or "exposition", and is generally super misleading. And the one that is referring to "how a writer chooses to show the theme/character/message/moral of the story", which is much more nuanced.

 

[T.Allen.Smith]

The terminology is definitely murky.

One of the things about the whole subject that makes me laugh is that so many people condemn "exposition" as "telling" but in its strictest sense "exposition" is the act of "exposing" something and to "expose" means to reveal or make something visible. In fact, exposition IS showing. Which is why the distinction seldom makes actual sense and attempts to create examples of the difference often fall flat. You almost have to go out of your way to write badly to craft an example of what people seem to mean by "telling". And among people who dole out this advice there is often little enough agreement on what it means beyond generalities.

David Farland on his writing advice blog has talked about how "Show Don't Tell" makes sense if you're making a movie and thus need to tell the story visually. But it makes much less sense when you're writing a book which is not a visual medium. Your goal is to make the reader experience the story, but since the story only becomes fully formed in the imagination of the reader and the imagination is by no means restricted to visual input. And yet, it does seem that most people instinctively think about writing out actions that could (if this were happening in real life) be seen with the eyes when they talk about "showing". This has led to a trend for "cinematic" writing, or writing your story as if you were a camera lens recording what you see.

I agree completely.

 

[Penpilot]

So, for me, I dislike the phrase "Show, Don't Tell". Partly because it is extremely simplistic and not all new writers have the ability to see past the generalization. (In my experience most new writers are just so eager to please anyone who is a so-called "expert" in the publishing industry that they will go to great lengths to incorporate any pithy advice they see on industry blogs and this one shows up everywhere.)

I'm not a huge fan of throwing around the phrase willy-nilly either. Unless I know who I'm speaking to well, I try to avoid using it. But I think it doesn't matter what the advice is, when someone is new at writing, they'll go overboard with anything and everything. What's that phrase? When all you have is a hammer, the whole world begins to look like a nail.

I can't help feeling that without such shallow, over simplified advice there would be more writers who would feel freer to write in the way that they really want to.

I think part of issue is that some writers only apply the advice in a shallow way and don't dig deeper into the other ways it's used.

From the way I see things, here are some of levels of showing vs telling, going from least important to most, from shallowest usage to more deep, IMHO.

Sentence level - Frank was angry. VS. Frank punched the wall.

Scene/Chapter level - Frank was a badass assassin. VS. having a scene or scenes where Frank does badass assassin stuff.

Story level - Evil will always loose because they will constantly underestimate the strength of those it sees as weak. VS. the story of Frodo and Sam's journey in LOTR.

Beginning writers tend not think or dig deeper than sentence level.

This leads to very, very few new fantasy books being written with a storytelling style that appeals to me.

Have you read Death of an Ancient King by Laurent Gaude? It's a great book told in a style like a fable. Unfortunately there's not preview on Amazon.

https://www.amazon.com/Death-Ancient-Laurent-Hunter-Adriana/dp/B005M4TA0U

 

[Devor]

I'm not a huge fan of throwing around the phrase willy-nilly either. Unless I know who I'm speaking to well, I try to avoid using it. But I think it doesn't matter what the advice is, when someone is new at writing, they'll go overboard with anything and everything. What's that phrase? When all you have is a hammer, the whole world begins to look like a nail.

I do have to concede, it's as an aphorism that it bothers me so much. It's the catch phrase, and the way that it's taken on out-sized share of thought and influence in critiques and writing advice.

I have no doubt that Heliotrope and I could continue arguing from opposite ends of the conversation and then start qualifying ourselves and mitigating our positions until we more or less agree on the principles. I don't think we're quite there yet, but I have no doubt it would happen.

But as an aphorism, as the go-to-thought-in-your-head when you plan or write or critique, I mean, we can do better than that.

 

[Heliotrope]

go-to-thought-in-your-head when you plan or write or critique, I mean, we can do better than that.

It's one of the thoughts in my head as I critique. Not my go to. My go to is usually structure, lol.

 

[Demesnedenoir]

Show don’t tell isn’t as cryptic as folks want it to be... Don’t tell me about the picture, paint it in words.

Anton Chekhov: Don’t tell me the moon is shining. Show me the glint of light on broken glass.

A shining moon might paint a yawner of a picture, but the glint of moonlight on broken glass? In such a short line, it raises questions, it evokes a tiny emotional response in the reader.

From the words of a professor who was educated at the Iowa Writer’s Workshop (founders of “show don’t tell”):
One of the most venerable tropes in the teaching of creative writing is this: Show, don’t tell. But what exactly does this dictum mean? When teachers of creative writing invoke it, they often mean that a scene or story was under-dramatized, or that the writing trafficked in generalities.

He also says that telling appeals to the rational mind, while showing appeals to the senses. Going back to a cheesy example I wrote down the other day:

#1: James stood and stared as a car driven by Bob squeeled around the corner without stopping for a red light.

James said, “That bastard needs to die.”

#2: The glass packs of the canary yellow Mustang rumbled down Fifth Avenue, and roared to life as the lights turned red. The driver howled and gave James the bird as tires squealed through the turn.

James said, “That bastard needs to die.”

#1 is less visual, that is a telltale warning sign for telling, heh heh. But what else is missing? It doesn’t simply not evoke a solid image, it does nothing to pull the reader in emotionally. It shows us James’ emotional reaction to this event, but it doesn’t make us feel it. #2, while a short example, attempts to both paint a picture of the event and through this additional attention to detail, attempts to make us understand a bit of where James is coming from... as the reader, we might harken back to being flipped off, relive some little emotions of dealing with a butthead driver in a muscle car, or whatever. It is evocation of the reader’s subconscious emotions... pulling the reader into the story without the reader consciously knowing they’re recalling these things or recognizing the technique... that makes showing more powerful than telling.

Now, example #2 could’ve been much more intense, much more evocative, but I slapped it out quick, LOL.

EDIT: My brain is just now connecting this to Maass’ seminar on emotion... hmmm.

 

[Heliotrope]

I think part of issue is that some writers only apply the advice in a shallow way and don't dig deeper into the other ways it's used.

From the way I see things, here are some of levels of showing vs telling, going from least important to most, from shallowest usage to more deep, IMHO.

Sentence level - Frank was angry. VS. Frank punched the wall.

Scene/Chapter level - Frank was a badass assassin. VS. having a scene or scenes where Frank does badass assassin stuff.

Story level - Evil will always loose because they will constantly underestimate the strength of those it sees as weak. VS. the story of Frodo and Sam's journey in LOTR.

Beginning writers tend not think or dig deeper than sentence level.

Yes. This is exactly it. Thanks PenPilot

It may seem remedial, but honestly, the higher level applications come up a lot in crits, even with more experienced writers.

 

[Mythopoet]

Following the comparison model that so many others used in previous posts...Which sentence does more for the reader?

Frank was hit by the car.

The car hit Frank.

Ok first question, what reader? Again, this comes back to my point that readers are not a vast homogenous blob who all want exactly the same thing or relate to storytelling methods in exactly the same way. Second, can you tell me precisely and objectively which of these sentences is show and which is tell and why? Then can you tell me precisely and objectively which one is better and why?

To me, they amount to the same thing. Neither is really better than the other. And I don't think they are illustrating the difference between showing and telling either. They both reveal the exact same information. The only difference is active vs passive voice. BUT contrary to what some believe passive does not equate to telling and active does not equate to showing. That's another of the overly simplistic mistakes people make about this advice.

Show don’t tell isn’t as cryptic as folks want it to be... Don’t tell me about the picture, paint it in words.

Anton Chekhov: Don’t tell me the moon is shining. Show me the glint of light on broken glass.

A shining moon might paint a yawner of a picture, but the glint of moonlight on broken glass? In such a short line, it raises questions, it evokes a tiny emotional response in the reader.

But what if there isn't any broken glass? What if there aren't any specific details the author wants to draw to attention? What if the author really just wants to tell you the moon is shining? This advice is all well and good for Chekhov. That's his writing style. And a lovely writing style it is, I'm sure. But not everyone is Chekhov. And not every bit of description has to hint at some deeper meaning or mystery.

Some writers just like writing clear, plain prose. (I remember being impressed by how well Asimov could tell a story with plain, straightforward prose.) And that is another style that is perfectly good. It depends on what the author wants to accomplish. Neither style is objectively better than the other.

He also says that telling appeals to the rational mind, while showing appeals to the senses. Going back to a cheesy example I wrote down the other day:

#1: James stood and stared as a car driven by Bob squeeled around the corner without stopping for a red light.

James said, “That bastard needs to die.”

#2: The glass packs of the canary yellow Mustang rumbled down Fifth Avenue, and roared to life as the lights turned red. The driver howled and gave James the bird as tires squealed through the turn.

James said, “That bastard needs to die.”

#1 is less visual, that is a telltale warning sign for telling, heh heh. But what else is missing? It doesn’t simply not evoke a solid image, it does nothing to pull the reader in emotionally. It shows us James’ emotional reaction to this event, but it doesn’t make us feel it. #2, while a short example, attempts to both paint a picture of the event and through this additional attention to detail, attempts to make us understand a bit of where James is coming from... as the reader, we might harken back to being flipped off, relive some little emotions of dealing with a butthead driver in a muscle car, or whatever. It is evocation of the reader’s subconscious emotions... pulling the reader into the story without the reader consciously knowing they’re recalling these things or recognizing the technique... that makes showing more powerful than telling.

Now, example #2 could’ve been much more intense, much more evocative, but I slapped it out quick, LOL.

I suppose I am one of those rational minded readers then. Because example two is annoying to me. I prefer when writers get to the point rather than getting all flowery with their descriptions. The showing style of writing is really just getting wordy and flowery when describing actions. Which is perfectly fine, for those who like it.

But the point is that when it comes right down to it, telling and showing are labels for different writing styles that appeal to different people. Neither is better than the other. Like just about everything in writing, it's a matter of taste. But the advice is doled out to EVERY writer as if every writer should ignore what their natural, preferred style is and conform to what the accepted industry standard is today.

 

[Devor]

It's one of the thoughts in my head as I critique. Not my go to. My go to is usually structure, lol.

When I critique I think about structure too, but not in a formal way. Well, basically, the Mythwright critique prompts are more or less the way I think when I critique, only with a substitute for the prompts.

Concept - What is this piece trying to do? Is it worth doing? Do the character, plot and setting fit together and build it the way they should?
Payoffs - What about this story is supposed to be paying off? Are those moments delivering the way they're supposed to?
Prose, Style, Structure - Does the writing, and the narrative, and the little details, and the scene structure - do these all flow naturally into supporting the payoff moments? What's getting in the way?
Entertainment - Toss aside the thinking for a moment, was this piece worth reading? Did it do anything for me?

And there are layers to it. I try to focus on the two or three things that matter most. Solve those two or three issues, and I can probably find two or three more that need to be worked on. I don't critique based on the perfect story but based on where I see the writer as needing to develop their skills - which I mask a little by talking about the story.

 

[Devor]

#1: James stood and stared as a car driven by Bob squeeled around the corner without stopping for a red light.

James said, “That bastard needs to die.”

#2: The glass packs of the canary yellow Mustang rumbled down Fifth Avenue, and roared to life as the lights turned red. The driver howled and gave James the bird as tires squealed through the turn.

James said, “That bastard needs to die."

I'm just going to drop this here, having removed my previous grumpy comment.

---------

"That bastard needs to die."

That's what James said when he saw Bob's yellow Mustang rumble down Fifth Avenue and squeal around the corner, ignoring the light that just turned red. James had known Bob since he was the street bully sticking gum in Tammy Dew-something's hair and his tongue down her throat, since he was the gross school child pissing on James' shoes while they stood in the lunchline, since Bob was the high school dropout punching James out for refusing to tell him about the big after-party with the booze.

But it was the red light that did it. James' father once got a forty dollar ticket for running a red light, and his damn driver's license points kicked in, and he paid for that ticket for three years. And what were Bob's consequences for the same damn thing? Looking cool, that's what.

That dumbfucked bastard. He deserved more. He got away with too much. It was time for his ticket to come up red.

 

[Heliotrope]

When I critique I think about structure too, but not in a formal way. Well, basically, the Mythwright critique prompts are more or less the way I think when I critique, only with a substitute for the prompts.

Concept - What is this piece trying to do? Is it worth doing? Do the character, plot and setting fit together and build it the way they should?
Payoffs - What about this story is supposed to be paying off? Are those moments delivering the way they're supposed to?
Prose, Style, Structure - Does the writing, and the narrative, and the little details, and the scene structure - do these all flow naturally into supporting the payoff moments? What's getting in the way?
Entertainment - Toss aside the thinking for a moment, was this piece worth reading? Did it do anything for me?

And there are layers to it. I try to focus on the two or three things that matter most. Solve those two or three issues, and I can probably find two or three more that need to be worked on. I don't critique based on the perfect story but based on where I see the writer as needing to develop their skills - which I mask a little by talking about the story.

Ahhhhh, I see why you were saying that thinking about showing while criting is not as good as we can do. So what I mean, for myself, is that it is not what I'm thinking of, first and foremost... I'm not thinking "Make this piece fit structure," "Make this piece show more..." That would be silly and prescriptive. Instead I use them as diagnostic tools...

So I read a piece for the exact same reasons you do. I look at this stuff concept, payoffs, prose/style, entertainment, first. If the piece just doesn't quiet hit the mark for me, then I think about Why? Why doesn't it? What could the writer do to make sure things are fitting together and paying off as they should?

Could they rearrange the structure a bit? Could they find a more effective way of showing the goal? Could they spend more time developing the character first? Does the major event need some foreshadowing?

 

[T.Allen.Smith]

To me, they amount to the same thing. Neither is really better than the other. And I don't think they are illustrating the difference between showing and telling either. They both reveal the exact same information. The only difference is active vs passive voice. BUT contrary to what some believe passive does not equate to telling and active does not equate to showing. That's another of the overly simplistic mistakes people make about this advice.

This is true. Passive voice does not equate to telling. Often, it does, but not always. There are many uses, which some may consider passive voice/telling, where the writer is showing. One example would be where the author wants to show that some action is already happening when a character enters the scene.

Mary was laughing at Jake when I rounded the corner.

This could be shown to a greater degree if you really wanted to focus the reader on her laughter, of course, but it isn't telling.

What if there aren't any specific details the author wants to draw to attention? What if there aren't any specific details the author wants to draw to attention? What if the author really just wants to tell you the moon is shining? This advice is all well and good for Chekhov. That's his writing style. And a lovely writing style it is, I'm sure. But not everyone is Chekhov. And not every bit of description has to hint at some deeper meaning or mystery.

There's no reason to show if you don't want to:
A) Ground the reader in a character's perceptions/emotions
B) Draw the reader's attention

If we're talking about a character's perceptions, the typical "tell" is done with filtering. Something like, "Rick felt..." There's nothing engaging about, "Rick felt angry."

If instead, you were to describe the way Rick looks, sounds, acts, etc. and allow the reader to interpret on their own that Rick is angry... Well, now you've made the reader a partner in the storytelling. That is the engagement you want when you employ showing.
If you can supply an engaging piece of writing that frequently uses tells like "She felt", I'd love to see it.

Before you look for one, at the beginning of this thread, I did state that I've read plenty of stories that were mainly "told" and they were fantastic. I'm simply stating that this type of telling is what Chekov is warning against. He was trying to show writer's the value of giving the story world to the reader through a character's perceptions and involving the reader as a partner in the story telling. I think most would be hard pressed to argue that involving the reader in this manner is one way (not the only way) to enrich a reader's experience.

Some writers just like writing clear, plain prose. (I remember being impressed by how well Asimov could tell a story with plain, straightforward prose.) And that is another style that is perfectly good. It depends on what the author wants to accomplish. Neither style is objectively better than the other.

Agreed. This is one of the reasons that writers should read broadly.

The showing style of writing is really just getting wordy and flowery when describing actions.

While showing typically uses more words than basic telling (like the, "He felt" example above), showing can also be quick and to the point. Showing certainly does not need to be flowery.

But the point is that when it comes right down to it, telling and showing are labels for different writing styles that appeal to different people. Neither is better than the other. Like just about everything in writing, it's a matter of taste. But the advice is doled out to EVERY writer as if every writer should ignore what their natural, preferred style is and conform to what the accepted industry standard is today.

I think telling and showing are techniques more than styles. Maybe that's splitting hairs, but in the good stories I've read that are told more than shown, there's still plenty of showing. The opposite is true with stories that rely more on showing.

I think this advice is so commonly given because telling is usually the default. When someone just starts writing, invariably they start by telling. It's what people are accustomed to verbally and it's their only base of experience when it comes to relaying their personal stories. Have you ever listened to someone verbally tell a story where they "showed"? Maybe a bit through body language, but more often than not, it's telling that does the lion's share of work.

Showing, on the other hand, is not second nature. It's something that takes time to understand and utilize properly. In light of this, I'm all for writer exposure to the principle. However, even as a fundamental, it's important we balance that delivery, which is often the problem. I've been guilty of this very thing in the past (as both student and advice-giver). It's something new and fresh when you first learn the principle. It's an alternate approach that's often overdone at first. It's also an easy thing to latch onto when someone asks for you to review something, especially when your own experience is limited. However, if that person continues to write (and no amount of advice will change that if the desire is truly present), that writer will eventually come to their own personal understanding and usage for both show and tell.

Personally, I'd rather be exposed to a variety of ideas and choose for myself those that work and those that don't, rather than have someone limit my exposure because of their concern for me as a beginner.

 

[Heliotrope]

Personally, I'd rather be exposed to a variety of ideas and choose for myself those that work and those that don't, rather than have someone limit my exposure because of their concern for me as a beginner.

This is my feeling as well.

 

[Devor]

The one time that you critiqued me, Heliotrope, you went well beyond Show, Don't Tell. Your comments on structure went too far (IMO, critiquer to critiquer), but were still very useful to me in shaking up the way I saw the scene. My attitude towards the phrase doesn't extend to those defending it.

 

[Heliotrope]

That's nice.... and here we are getting personal again.

You don't have to agree with me. I'm not trying to make you agree. I'm just showing how I see it and trying to understand how you see it. A simple. "I understand, but don't see it that way," would have been adequate.

 

[Devor]

I'm sorry, Heliotrope. I don't know what I was thinking with that.

I still don't actually understand, though. Nothing about the word "Show" suggests to me any kind of clear advice or direction to focus on. Nothing about the words "Don't tell" make sense to me even as the most basic of guidelines (my own best writing interweaves showing and telling constantly). The only thing that makes sense to me is to dismiss the notion that they are two separate concepts, and instead suggest that "Show, Don't Tell" is a basic narrative framework separating prose from something like an essay - but that's what keeps bringing me back to that word, remedial, a concept so basic that for most people it's hardly worth thinking about, like the prologue to a textbook on writing that never needs to be mentioned again.

I am honestly confused in what way Show, Don't tell is supposed to be useful and actionable advice, except in the way that punishes perfectly valid telling for no good reason at all.

 

[T.Allen.Smith]

I am honestly confused in what way Show, Don't tell is supposed to be useful and actionable advice, except in the way that punishes perfectly valid telling for no good reason at all.

How about:
Show, rather than tell, when your aim is to ground the reader in a character’s perceptions and/or draw the reader’s attention to details.

 

[Heliotrope]

I'm sorry, Heliotrope. I don't know what I was thinking with that.

It's fine. I'm not offended. It's the nature of critiquing. Sometimes the suggestions fit. Sometimes they don't. That is trouble with not knowing the entire piece beforehand. Let's just try to stay on topic here, lol. If you want to critique my critiquing than PM me

 

[Devor]

Personally, I'd rather be exposed to a variety of ideas and choose for myself those that work and those that don't, rather than have someone limit my exposure because of their concern for me as a beginner.

It's the phrase Don't Tell that limits your exposure for concern for you as a beginner -

How about:
Show, rather than tell, when your aim is to ground the reader in a character’s perceptions and/or draw the reader’s attention to details.

- because you can do all of that with telling just fine. But nobody puts the work in because they've been told not to.

Did you note my sample passage on Des's scene? It's all telling, and it does everything you think you're supposed to do with showing... doesn't it?

"That bastard needs to die."

That's what James said when he saw Bob's yellow Mustang rumble down Fifth Avenue and squeal around the corner, ignoring the light that just turned red. James had known Bob since he was the street bully sticking gum in Tammy Dew-something's hair and his tongue down her throat, since he was the gross school child pissing on James' shoes while they stood in the lunchline, since Bob was the high school dropout punching James out for refusing to tell him about the big after-party with the booze.

But it was the red light that did it. James' father once got a forty dollar ticket for running a red light, and his damn driver's license points kicked in, and he paid for that ticket for three years. And what were Bob's consequences for the same damn thing? Looking cool, that's what.

That dumbfucked bastard. He deserved more. He got away with too much. It was time for his ticket to come up red.

 

[Devor]

Okay, I'm going back to that first scene I posted.

For those of you who want to discuss showing and telling on the micro, line-by-line level, I've taken the Ladybug scene I posted earlier and color coded it.

This is showing.
This is telling.
And this a POV that's too deep to fairly call either.

I skipped the dialogue, some basic dialogue tags, and sometimes little transition words.

Are we more or less in agreement on what telling is in this line-by-line stage? And if so, does the telling here work for you at all? Are there trends we can point out in where it works or doesn't?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chat Noir sat perched on the roof of Notre Dame, looking over the river with his baton between his legs and one claw flicking occasionally on his bell. Ladybug watched him from the distance, taking a nervous breath before throwing out her yoyo and swinging in beside him. “I knew you’d be out,” she said, trying to be casual.

“I wish it was a happier night,” Chat Noir muttered in a tone that was unlike him. He didn’t look at her but stared into the night sky. “Plagg said transforming would help with the pain. I’ve never seen him so shaken up. How is Tikki?”

“She’s not taking it well,” Ladybug answered. “And Tikki’s in a fraction of the pain Schtitz must be in. I’m worried, Chat. What could do this to a kwami?”

“I figure it’s either something magical, like an akuma, or it’s something high tech, like a weapons lab.” He finally turned to look at her, and Ladybug’s stomach lurched when she saw the sadness on his face. Was it only about the kwami? Or had the morning affected him? “I saw on the tracker that you stopped by Master Fu?”

“I did… he said there hasn’t been any sign of Schtitz or the Dragonfly Charm since World War I. Unless the miraculous bearer comes forward, I don’t think there’s anything we can do.”

“No,” Chat Noir lowered his head. “It’s going to be a long night for the kwami.”

That means a long night for the two of us here on this roof, in costume, with no Akuma in sight. So tell me about yourself, Chat.

“While we have a moment,” Marinette began, her Ladybug confidence beginning to drift. “I wanted to talk to you…” Wait, did that sound too forward? She didn’t want to put him on the spot. She just wanted to talk as friends, to get to know him a little better, to give him a fair shake after…, “after what Alya said.”

Chat Noir jumped up from his spot. “Right. No. You don’t need to say anything, Ladybug.” He ran his claws through his hair, looked at her, and smiled, his deep green eyes begging her to stop breaking his heart. “I, hrmm. I’ve decided to start dating.”

What? Start? …dating. She had tried to never think about it, but she knew. Chat Noir was the flirt of Paris. That’s what everyone believed. Every week he could pick a new princess for the night. And she usually played along as if that were really him. “You’re the only one, Marinette,” Alya had once told her. “People send in their stories to me all the time on the Ladyblog, and while everyone knows Chat Noir is a huge flirt, as far as I can tell you’re the only one he’s actually flirted with. Just you and Ladybug.” That is, in costume. Out of costume… Marinette knew the boy at her side, and he flirted the way he did because he was as nervous about relationships as she was.

“What do you mean start, kitty?” she asked, trying to keep casual and hoping to keep him talking. “I’m sure you’re the life of the town.”

“I mean what I said, Ladybug.” Chat Noir took two steps back and turned to look over the Paris skyline. His voice was shaky and he seemed determined not to look at her. “I’m taking somebody out, a friend from my normal life, and... I think you and all of Paris know how I feel about you, and that hasn’t changed yet, but I can’t just wait for the inevitable… so if I start acting a little differently towards you it’s because I want to respect her.”

And just like that, all of her fears faded away. She had spent a year dreading the day she would break his heart, and now, perhaps, he had taken the hint and spared them both. About time, Chat.

But this isn’t what she wanted tonight. And he looked so... heartbroken.

“I know I keep pushing you away, but I care about you, Chat, more than I know how to put into words.” He still didn’t look at her, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. He deserved more than the sadness in his face. “This girl you’re dating had better be good enough for you.”

And then his expression lit up, and he turned to look at her with a smile, and his eyes, somehow, transformed him back into the optimistic kitten she had always known. “I can tell you that much for sure, Ladybug. This girl’s incredible.”

Chat Noir was moving on. Ladybug was so relieved. He should step back that annoying flirting he does. He might pay her less attention and focus more on the supervillains. It was a relief to be free of that burden of fearing his heartbreak. The cat could find a new human pet. Maybe he would finally take saving Paris seriously.

This is what relief feels like, right?

The weight was off her shoulders. He was going to be with somebody else. Ladybug tried to picture a normal guy, a normal girl, a boring conversation, a girl who would know the real person behind Chat Noir.

And she would have no idea of the incredible and selfless things he did all the time. For Paris. For everybody.

For her.