#i think eiffel is still eiffel because that makes sense with my understanding of its themes and trajectory.

[commsroom]

Happy birthday! I have a bit of a strange question but it is Eiffel-related so:

How much (if any) of his personality do you think would be intact post-memory wipe? (Not in the sense of how much would he choose to keep, I mean what parts of him would the memory wipe not get rid of, given that it didn’t wipe his muscle memory, knowledge of English, etc)

this is such a difficult question because, like... as much as i like to speculate about it, there's no real answer re: what wolf 359 defines as "memory" in the first place. like you said, he remembers so much stuff that should be tied to memory - not just his knowledge of english but like, broadly... the concepts and context and consequences for those words and the things he encounters. he understands the weight of what he did back on earth, etc. and that makes the line of "memory" and "information" kind of fuzzy, in a whole bunch of different ways that would also apply to, like... what part of "personality" is inherent, and what part is determined by things we'd classify as memory? how much of personality is flexible and relational, anyway?

and we don't have much to go on re: how he behaves post memory wipe, either, like... there's not much of the show after that; we don't see him in Situations (tm) at all. and he might have different reactions to similar things, depending on other factors, even with his memory! but, like... there's not much to compare or contrast.

with that said: so much of how eiffel communicates is filtered through pop culture - it's not even on purpose, that's just... how his brain works, how he makes connections. everything else aside, i think it's completely understandable he would seem quieter if the primary framework he communicates through is suddenly no longer accessible to him. even if he doesn't consciously know what he's missing, there has to be a gap between what he intends and what he can say, and that has to be frustrating. the context is different, but when he's feeling bad for himself around constructive criticism and doesn't make any pop culture references for a week - that's similarly "uncharacteristic" in how unusually quiet and reserved he seems. for perspective.

short version: "personality" is hard to define, but i think whatever makes eiffel "eiffel" is still intact, whatever that means. i think he still remembers how he feels about things, on some level, even if the memories those feelings are attached to are inaccessible. i think he probably either has or will develop the same values and preferences and sense of humor and annoying habits, but even if his interior world is very similar to what it was before, people might think he's different because he can't communicate those ideas the same way, and that potentially creates a feedback loop where he also feels he must be different than he was. but, over time... i mean, i do think eiffel will get his memories back at some point, but even before that... i think just being exposed to stuff will gradually lessen that gap for him anyway.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

City of Second Chances

Hozier x reader

Hozier Masterlist

Author's note: I swear I'm gonna get back to posting the ongoing fics.

Summary: A year after the demise of their relationship, Andrew and Y/n reflect on what used to be.

Warnings: Angst, the briefest mentions of SMUT (like, blink and you'll miss it.)

Much like him, Las Vegas is restless – though, he thinks that may be the only similarity between him and the dazzling city below him. He isn't glamorous, he isn't unrelenting, he isn’t filled to the brim with hopes and dreams. He isn’t blessed with the grace of second chances.

Because if he was, she would be there with him tonight.

He’d make a joke about getting hitched at one of those drive through chapels, she’d humorously accept his proposal and throw her head back and laugh – but deep down they’d both be hoping that the other is just a little serious.

She would have said yes if he asked, right? Like, for real. The right way. Andrew thinks – knows – that he’s let the opportunity pass him over more times than he can count.

Fucking Vegas, and their fake Eiffel Tower, their tacky drive-thru chapels, and those silly plastic rings – like the one he carries in his wallet.

Andrew’s never been the type to enjoy that sort of fast-paced, glitzy lifestyle that the sleepless city offers, but he used to love that place – just like Y/n used to love him.

Standing at the expansive, floor-to-ceiling window of his hotel room, he can’t help but feel a sense of disenchantment with the place; the people ten stories below him, decked off in glittering dressed and expensive suits, the plastic palm trees cemented to the sidewalk and the reflective, gold-varnished doors that lead to dizzying casinos. He’s so removed from it all – Andrew feels like he’s peering in from the outside at some mystical land that he doesn’t quite understand.

But he's walked those streets, thrown money away at blackjack tables behind those doors and gotten blind-drunk at a couple of those bars. He’s done it with her – but it must've been a lifetime ago.

He wonders if one year ago feels that far away for her too. Does she look at all the photographs she used to take and feel like they belong to another version of herself, one that’s experienced the best of the world, but a lifetime ago?

He wonders if she thinks of him when she puts on those stunning silver heels or that blue dress that clung to her curves like wet fabric. What about when she hears Dusty Springfield's voice coming over the record player – does she still have the record?

Does she think of him when she pours herself a glass of wine? Does that one, far away memory come rushing back to her, like dandelion fluff on the wind – like the subtle ache of a wound that just won’t heal right.

She thinks of him when she’s barefoot.

That night in the hotel, when they got into the elevator she started complaining about how her feet hurt. It might have been drunkenness, it might have been because he’s the sweetest man she’s ever had the privilege of knowing, but Andrew immediately got on his knees and started undoing the straps of her heels – the same pair that she can’t stand to look at anymore.

“Want my shoes?” He offers earnestly, looking up at her in a way that makes her reach out and cup his face, her thumb roving the apple of his cheek. Most of the time, its the most mundane things that remind Y/n why she loves him as much as she does; the way he looks with his bowtie and the top two buttons of his dress shirt undone, the way he looks at her like there’s no one else he’d rather look at – his eagerness to offer his shoes when she makes the mistake of wearing her most uncomfortable heels for a three hour event.

“They’ll be too big,” she giggles, and Andrew flashes her that painfully rare smile that he wears so very well.

“Then I’ll carry you,” he determines upon straightening up, her silver heels still hooked in his long fingers.

“You’re too drunk for that,” Y/n counters, noting the redness in his face that only comes from a few drinks too many. Still, Andrew bends forward and loops an arm around the back of her thighs to throw her over his shoulder as the elevator doors slide open. “Andy!” She squeals, hair falling over her face as blood rushes to her head. Its a dizzying experience, especially considering she already isn’t in the best frame of mind – she’s suddenly beginning to regret that last cocktail.

“I’ve got this darlin’,” he huffs. He seems to have a handle on things too…..until he trips on the threshold of the elevator and stumbles forward. He might have caught himself if he hadn’t been so inberated – and hadn't been carrying her in the most impractical way – but he doesn’t and they both hit the carpeted floor with simultaneous ‘omphs’.

“Don’t say it,” he warns, struggling to prop his weight on an elbow so he doesn’t smother her.

“I told you so,” Y/n giggles, before wincing at the pain in her back.

“And she said it,” Andrew teases and then his smile softens, “you okay?” He asks softly, slipping his free hand behind her head so it isn’t resting on the floor.

“Better than okay,” Y/n hums, reaching between them to touch his face again. When she does, her eye catches a glimpse of the thin, plastic band adorned little bits of coloured glass meant to look like gems on her left hand. It doesn’t exactly go with the rich, jewel-toned blue stain of her dress – Andrew had gotten it out of one of those vending machines earlier, and now he’s wearing its plainer counterpart. They hadn’t made it to the chapel, but it seemed silly not to wear the rings after already buying them. Lifting her head a little, she meets his lips, tasting the heady combination of champagne and whiskey on his tongue.

“We should get off the floor,” he mumbles against her lips before stumbling to a stand and offering his hand to her. When she gets to her feet, it takes them another moment to collect their bearings before finally starting the walk down the hallway to their room – that time with her bare feet on the ground.

So now, she thinks of him when she’s barefoot. And when she looks at that dress, or the plastic ring still tucked away in her jewelry box – or thinks about Vegas.

Sometimes, the memories are so fresh in her mind that she swears they all happened yesterday; Y/n wonders if it's like that for Andrew – if those moments are all on constant replay in his mind, so achingly fresh that it makes the air thin. It must be some kind of curse not to, Y/n determines, because most times, its the sharpness of those moments that keep her going. It might not be so bad to have lost if she was once loved that deeply – at least she can say she felt it.

With Dusty Springfeild's Look of Love coming over the record player, Y/n drains a bottle of white wine, and deserts the empty bottle on the marble counter that separates the living room from her kitchen. Humming along to the tune – their song – she starts padding towards the sofa when a photograph on the yellow wall catches her eye. That stupid hotel room that overlooks that faux Eiffel tower.

Andrew at the grand piano with a bottle of wine on the top. She knows exactly what he’s playing, she remembers how awful it sounded when he realized the damn thing was woefully out of tune.

What kind of hotel room has an out of tune piano?

She remembers what happened when she distracted him. The coolness of the ivory keys under her skin. That horrifying tune that made them laugh. The tickle of his bead on her neck and the way his hand tangled around her fingers.

“How’s this for a picture?” He mumbles, lips against her skin as blood rushes to her cheeks, but the camera's already been discarded near the empty bottle and its the last thing she’s concerned about.

Fucking Vegas – and their out of tune pianos and fake Effiel towers, Y/n thinks as she takes a drag of her wine.

Great, now she’s thinking of him while she drinks wine.

[kumeko]

A/N: Now that creators can be revealed...For astralis_16 for the Hoyohearts exchange! Finally, an excuse to write Tears of Themis (and especially my bias, Marius). I’m still catching up in the game, so this is still early, pre-relationship fluff for now. I did sneak in the Hey, Sweetheart challenge from @ficwip into this fic too (totally counts in a different language, right?). Also, yes, the sign frustration was mine. I wanted to read. My French is shit.

…

…

…

…

Rosa was easy to read. Almost too easy, sometimes. Marius stifled his laughter as he watched her squint at a sign, her brow furrowed as she silently mouthed the foreign words as though that would help her understand better. When that failed, she cocked her head, left then right, before huffing and staring out through the fence links and onto the scenery.

From this height on the observation deck of the Eiffel tower, it was a good view of Paris, of its sweeping roofs, long channels, and the parks that dotted the city. The Champ de Mars gardens were an oasis of green surrounded by buildings that looked like his favourite Lego blocks. However, no matter how grand the view, it wasn’t what captivated Marius today. Instead, his eyes were fixed on Rosa and her adorable pout.

Still, there was one expression that was cuter: her grumpy one. Marius smirked wickedly as he ambled over, glancing at the sign as he stopped beside her. “Elle a été construite par Gustave Eiffel pour l'Exposition universelle de Paris de 1889,” he read aloud before turning to her with a sly grin. “Did you know that?”

Rosa stiffened. Sometimes, that felt like it was her automatic reaction to him. As expected, her pout deepened, and she glared at him. Her voice was one of frigid politeness. “Show off.”

“What, you don’t know French, Miss?” Marius feigned surprise, his eyes wide, his mouth open in shock, his hand on his chest. Overly dramatic, perhaps. Childish, definitely so. But something about Rosa made him slip into behaviours he’d long suppressed after taking his brother’s place. When her eyes narrowed, he chuckled. “I’ll stop.”

“Rich people,” Rosa groused, shaking her head. With a sigh, she studied the sign once more and clicked her tongue. “Why’s it all in French?”

“Because we’re in France?” he suggested, unable to resist one last jab. Sometimes, she made it too easy.

Rosa’s jaw clenched. “Marius. Von. Hagen.”

Marius laughed and held his hands up in surrender. His name sounded so sweet when it rolled off her tongue like that. “Sorry.”

“You keep saying that, but I don’t think you know what it means,” she retorted, shooting him a disbelieving look. As the wind blew, she pushed a stray lock behind her ear. Her ribbon was slightly loose.

His fingers twitched. If he could, he’d tie it back for her. If he could—but they weren’t there yet. They weren’t anything yet. Keeping his hand down, Marius asked, “Still, is it that much of a surprise that the signs are in French?”

“I mean…not entirely, but…” Rosa shifted on her heels and craned her neck right and left, double checking the other signs. “It’s just, this is the Eiffel tower. It’s a big tourist spot. They don’t have to have every language but…English is a major international language. Wouldn’t it make sense to have the signs in both?”

“Fair enough.” Marius shrugged. He’d never thought too much of it, but then again, he’d long studied the romantic languages. It would have been hard to study in Florence otherwise. Still, if he had to hazard a guess: “It’s not very good from the tourism business side but…maybe its their grudge against the English?”

Rosa rubbed her chin, considering it. She glanced at the sign again, as though it might reveal its secrets to her. “Do you really so? Isn’t that…childish?”

“Who said grudges aren’t?” Marius mused philosophically.

“That must be why you have so many,” Rosa replied tartly. He wasn’t the only one who couldn’t resist a good opening.

She didn’t quite stick out her tongue, but he felt it, and a flare of warmth shot up through him. After she’d found out just who he was, Rosa had grown more polite, more formal in social settings. As though she was trying to keep some distance between them. Now, it was starting to feel like that wall was finally crumbling. Maybe she wanted to be closer to him too.

Maybe his feelings weren’t a one-sided yearning.

Rosa leaned against the fence, her fingers curled into the links, a hand pushing back her hair as the wind played with her locks. “At least the view doesn’t need a translation.”

Marius grinned as he stood next to her. Their shoulders were close, the gap between them shrinking by the day. “So…worth the trip?”

“The line up was—wait.” Rosa paused. He could see a dozen thoughts run through her mind before she turned to him with a suspicious look. “Actually, why am I here?”

“To see the view?” Marius suggested.

“I don’t mean literally up here.” Rosa rolled her eyes. For a woman who tried very hard to keep her professional and personal matters separate, she was completely incapable of hiding her thoughts. “This is a business trip. For your contract. Why are we sight-seeing?”

The jig was up. While it was easy to sweep Rosa off her feet, it was just as easy for her to regain her footing. How he answered this question was critical to how the rest of their business trip went. There were still so many sights in Paris he wanted her to see.

“What sort of terrible boss do you think I am?” Marius protested dramatically. He leaned against the fence, one arm bent on the barrier, his cheek resting on his fisted hand as he angled himself toward Rosa. Whenever he gave her his full attention, she flustered. And a flustered Rosa was an easy-to-convince Rosa. “It can’t be all work and no play.”

Her cheeks reddened but she stood her ground. Rosa wasn’t buying it. Yet. “This is a work trip.”

“Employee satisfaction is important to me,” he explained, all but pleading now. What would the board think if they saw him like this? Though, Payton would be pleased. “Can’t we do both?”

He was getting to her—Rosa wavered, her hands clenching on the metal links, her brow furrowing as she fought temptation. Biting her cheek, she balked once more, a last denial, “But this is—”

“Please, Miss?” Marius interrupted, showcasing his puppy eyes as he whined, “I don’t usually get time off.”

Rosa shuddered, her resistances crumbling. With a defeated sigh, she nodded her head. “Fine.”

Marius bounced to his feet, excited. This wasn’t how he’d planned to take Rosa to Paris for the first time, but he could adapt. “You won’t regret this.”

“I already am,” she deadpanned, giving him a disgruntled look. Contradicting her words, her tone was light. “You were acting again, weren’t you?”

“Everything I said was true.” And it was. Perhaps he’d overdramatized it, but he’d never lied to her thus far. “How do you find Paris?”

Her lips pinched as Rosa wore the blank expression she usually had whenever she was trying to find a way to praise something she didn’t like. “It’s…less romantic than I expected,” she finally admitted diplomatically.

“How honest.”  Marius laughed. That might have been what drew him to her first—her ever-changing honest expressions. “Well, can’t have you think I’m a poor tour guide on top of being a bad boss!” Holding out a hand, he bowed slightly and winked, “I think I know exactly what you want to see.”

Rosa stared at his hand, surprised. “What?”

“It’s crowded here. You don’t want to get separated right?” Marius cajoled her, though he was unable to resist one last tease. “You might get lost with all these French signs.”

Rosa hesitated before slipping her soft hand into his. Her ears reddened, though if it was because of their contact or his jest, he couldn’t tell. “It’s not that I couldn’t do it if I—my English isn’t that bad. I just didn’t learn French.”

“Whatever you say.” Her competitive streak reared its head in the funniest of ways. Marius chuckled, squeezing her hand as he intertwined their fingers. This time, her flush reached her cheeks.

-x-

Paris was romantic. That was something Marius couldn’t really tell Rosa, not even as they walked along the Seine, her hand tucked into his arm as though that would decrease the intimacy of it all. Paris was romantic but not in the way others pictured it: streetlamp lined streets, the towering Eiffel, the glittering Seine, classical music playing over a twilight evening. Movies and books had sold a dream, a dream that could never have existed in the first place.

Instead, the streets of Paris were as dirty as any other city’s streets, filled with the wear and tear of living metropolis. Vendors lined the paths to the Eiffel, clamoring for attention as they sold dozens of tiny trinkets and charms, macarons and sweets. Countless visitors queued up to visit the tower and see the sights, their conversations filling the air instead of stringed instruments. And the Seine had more akin to a dirty puddle than clean river.

Yet…from an artist’s eye, all of this was interesting, all of this tempting to touch, to fiddle, to devour and shine a spotlight on. It was a different kind of romance.

However, he knew just what Rosa wanted and where to get it. A chauffeured car ride later, and they were standing in front of the Palace of Versailles, a structure that maintained its majesty to this day. Rosa’s hand gripped his arm tightly as they strolled across the grounds, her wide eyes soaking in the enormous building, the arching rooms, the sprawling gardens.

“What do you think?” he asked even though the answer was clear on her face.

“It’s…” Rosa opened and closed her mouth several times, struggling to find the words.

“Cat got your tongue?” Marius ribbed when she still didn’t reply.

She shot him an annoyed glare, her hand slipping out of his arm. Immediately, he missed her warmth. “You’re lucky this place is nice.”

Well, if he was already in the doghouse, he might as well embrace it. “Just nice?” he needled.

“More than nice.” Rosa rolled her eyes, but she was all smiles as they ambled along the terrace. She leaned against one of the stone railings overlooking the massive gardens. Pushing a stray hair behind her ear, she mused, “It’s…stunning.”

The late afternoon light bathed Rosa in a soft golden glow. Her hair shimmered under the sun’s rays. Marius repeated softly, “Stunning.”

Taking a step back, he framed her between his fingers, as though he were taking a photo. From where he stood, she was at an angle and the garden her backdrop. If he were to name this scene, it’d be—

“Ma chérie.”

“Huh?” Turning back to him, Rosa raised a brow. “Sorry, I missed that.”

Marius flushed, dropping his hands immediately. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud. Not now, at least. “Nothing—it was nothing.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously before shrugging and gesturing at the gardens. “Do we have time to go in?”

“Of course.” Marius forced himself to calm down. “I can just book the place if you want more time.”

Rosa blanched. “…please don’t.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s see what we can then.” Marius grinned, leading the way down. His ears still felt hot, his arm still felt the ghost of his touch, and the hey sweetheart was still on the tip of his tongue.

Maybe in the future, he could take that next step, tell her what he meant.

But not now, not when just this proximity left him with a buzz, not when she still pretended her blushes were from embarrassment and nothing more.

Not when the gap between their hands could be distanced just as quickly as it could be closed.

[finelinevogue]

Hi! Hope you’re good! Could you please write a blurb where Harry and Y/N are high-school lovers, it’s up to you what exactly. Thank you❤️

sorry this is written so late!! i love the high-school lovers concept eeekk! this is going to be harry and y/n laying in bed having 3am conversations about nothing and everything, so enjoy:

You’d never felt more at peace.

Laying in the darkness of your bedroom, with the soft music of The Neighbourhood playing in the background and Harry cuddled up beside you, you’d just never felt so calm and loved.

Life was so chaotic and messy at the moment, what with deciding whether you wanted to go to college or not which determined whether you could get into university or not. So many big choices were having to be made at such a young age and all you wished for was the world to stop and simply pause, wait for you to breathe again, before returning its spin. Every day rushed past you so fast it was hard to remember whether it was even a new day or not. That’s why you’d asked Harry to come over tonight; because with Harry, time stopped.

He was currently laying next to you on your bed, one arm behind his head and the other wrapping itself around your body. You were half laying on top of him, with your leg pushed between the both of his, making you feel like one person. His breathing was shallow and you knew he was close to sleep, but you also knew he wouldn’t fall asleep before you did - just out of habit. His fingers danced on your bare shoulder, where your tank top exposed the skin, as you let yours trace patterns on his toned chest.

“Harry?” You asked very quietly, seeing as your parents were only in the next room over sleeping. They trusted and liked Harry enough for him to stay over, which you greatly appreciated.

“Yes baby?”

“When you lay alone in bed at night, what do you think about?

“You. Even if i’m in bed with you too.” You chuckled at his response, your cheek smushing into his chest more as your lips curled.

“Don’t be silly, answer properly.”

“Like in detail? Okay,” he didn’t let you but in before continuing, “I think about your smile and how much it makes me happy. I think about your kind heart and how i’m so honoured to share half of it with you. I think about all the things I want to adventure with you. Oh, and I also think about your pus—”

“Shut up!” You were quick to move your hand up to his mouth, trapping the words before they could be spoken aloud, until he licked your hand and you moved it away in pretend disgust.

“What?” He asked cheekily.

“My parents are next door, y’dork.”

“And? I’ve done more than just speak about your pussy in this room. Need a reminder as to what?” He teased, but you knew you were both too tired to do anything physical this evening - or rather this morning - other than talk. It was 2am and neither of you were ready to go to sleep, to deep in thoughts of each other to want to miss a moment with one another. You gave him a jab to his side, which tickled more than hurt him and then the room went silent for a minute.

In the silence you thought about how lucky you were to have someone like Harry beside you. He was your lucky charm and most favourite person in the world. He cared for you more than anyone and you liked to think you treated him the same way.

You two were the high-school couple that everyone dreamt of being. You hadn’t liked him to begin with, knowing that he’d gotten a reputation for being a bit of a dickhead when it came to girls, but he was quick to show you all of that was bullshit and he was actually a good man - or at least he wanted to be for you. You were both looked up by other couples in the school, to the point where some guys would come up to Harry and ask for advice on how to win a girl over or would come up to you asking what the best way to make it to a third date was. You loved being loved by Harry and people obviously sensed that too.

“What would we adventure?” You asked, referring back to something Harry previously said and he was too in-tune with you to not understand what you were on about.

“What would you want us to adventure?” He returned with a question, still caressing small patterns into your bare skin. His touch was electric and you’d never feel as alive as you did with him.

“I want to go apple-picking at the Smithdown Orchard.”

“Okay baby, that’s a start. Think bigger, though.”

“Um, the moon then!” You exaggerated, but did imagine how cool that would be for a split second.

“If you want to go to the moon, baby, i’ll take you there.” Your heart swooned at his words, making you plant a sideways kiss to his chest - right over his heart. You heard the sound of his chest beat a little faster to the touch of your lips and you smiled because of it. “Anywhere else? Maybe somewhere with more gravity?”

You laughed, before thinking to yourself. “I’ve always wanted to go to Paris. Like, the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre entice me. Imagine having a picnic filled with fresh strawberries and warm baguettes, underneath the Eiffel Tower at night, Harry. Doesn’t it sound perfect?” You contently sighed, dreaming of a life you knew was too far from reach. It was too unrealistic.

“If I get to be with you, then yes, it’s perfect.” He replied and you closed your eyes at the warmth of his comforting words.

“I love being in love with you, Harry.” You spoke quieter than you had before, like it was a secret that you only wanted him to hear. A secret he could keep locked in heart forever if he wanted - if he’d have you.

“C’mere.” He spoke softly, motioning for you to sit up so that you could see him better. You turned yourself and propped your head up on his chest, holding yourself up by your hands. He stroked some fallen hair back out of the way of your face and looked at you so intensely, you thought you’d melt away.

“What?”

“Just wanted to look at my girl.”

“Why? You see me almost every day.” You laughed, but your heart bled over his soft words. He said ‘my girl’ like you were entirely his, and that was perfectly okay with you.

“It’s never enough. You are a vision, Y/N.” He palmed his hand over your cheek and you melted into it, loving the feeling of his warm hand against your colder, softer, cheek.

“You’re pretty cute too, you know?” He laughed and blushed at your attempt of a loving comeback, making your head shake as his chest rose up and down.

“Am I now? Cute enough for a kiss off my favourite girl?”

“Oh, always.”

And your lips sealed together, not for the first time and definitely not for the last.

[calumxkisses]

Sleep On The Floor | c.h.

pairing: calum hood x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

summary: life’s getting dark grey, lucky for you, Calum is ready to show you all the colors - or maybe that’s what you dream about.  

a/n: hi beautiful angels, i’m back! sorry for being away fr such a long time but i was studying and trying my best to stay alive. today’s also my birthday and i wanted to thank all of you for loving my past serie. i love every single on of you.

this imagine its inspired by the song: sleep on the floor 

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

The music is loud, the same songs are repeated continuously but the constant talk and the drinks make it difficult to notice the monotony of these parties. It is a monotony that you relive every weekend since you started working in the music industry and it doesn’t depend on the place, the week or the event, the same things repeat themselves over and over again.

Dark grey. It’s the color that you best associate to this situation. It’s that color that makes you think about factories, workers in line, controlled by rules and by a world that leaves no room for creativity, for change, for a better world. You remember that Charlie Chaplin’s movie that your professor made you watch in school and the way he ends up living an adventure. Will that happen to you too? It’s just a party, you think, but because it’s a party you shouldn’t feel this way. 

You’ll take a plane tomorrow and you’ll end up in another city that you won’t visit because there’ll be no time. After the concert or the interview, you’ll end up in some hidden place dancing and drinking and the day after another plane or bus will be waiting for you. And when the tour ends, you’ll be able to breathe. 

The girl in front of you keeps talking about the promotion she got at work, but you stopped listening to her a long time ago. Didn't she get the promotion last week? Or was it another girl? Maybe she was the one who had just returned from a business trip? 

Across the room, a few steps away from you, Calum, Luke and Roy are talking about the new album the band is working on, the new genre they are experimenting with and the lyrics they enjoy writing but will never release. They spend their days like this, searching for new sounds and writing lyrics about salads and strange places where they get lost.

You look around before your gaze gets placed in front of you and you notice that Calum is looking at you too, his curly hair with shades of blonde free from any beanie and he’s still wearing the leather jacket. His eyes stare at you and a little grin forms on his lips. Without realizing it, you slowly approach each other. 

“It doesn't look like you're having fun.” 

“My stomach hurts from how much I’m laughing.” You say in a sarcastic tone, your face expressing your emotion. 

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” Calum knows you. He knows your need to break free from the world and the way you love everything that is extraordinary. He needs that too, he wants to have the possibility to just be him and not the bassist from 5 Seconds Of Summer, but he’ll never tell you this, he won’t give you the satisfaction of being right. But you know. 

“No, I'm just tired of always doing the same things.” You say dramatically, sighing.

“Then let's do something different.”

“Like what? Playing hide and seek instead of beer pong?” 

“No, let’s leave. We have a couple of hours before this party ends and nobody will notice our absence anyway. Let’s do something different for once.” 

You smile. He’s trying to relieve your suffering and you appreciate that.  

Calum walks away for a moment and when he returns, your jacket is in his hand and no longer on the couch. He throws it at you and offers you his hand. “A Taxi is already waiting for us outside. What do you think?” His smile is wide on his face, but not as big as the one that forms on your face when you grab his hand and drag him out.

You both laugh as you get into the car, your adrenaline is running high and you already feel better. The driver smiles at the scene, Calum whispers something in his ear and then sits back on the seat, his eyes following your body before looking in your eyes. 

“I didn’t know you could speak French.” You say looking at his face. 

“There’s a lot of things that you don’t know about me, love.” He says before looking in front of him, mentally trying to remember the name of the streets. His side profile is lightened by different colors as you pass all the different neons of the shops of the city.

The window on your right is slightly lowered. You rest your head on his shoulder and close your eyes, the wind brushes your face and the noise of the city is like a melody in your ears. Calum kisses your hair and rests his head on yours. 

You’re in a car, just the two of you stuck in traffic, yet you feel like you are in a different world, in a world of constant change, where everything happens only once and you are ready to treasure every second of it. 

You don’t know how many minutes have passed by before Calum taps on your shoulder and whispers, “Look.” before pointing to his left. You open your eyes and the Arc de Triomphe lights up the city. It’s a masterpiece that reigns in the French city. It’s fully illuminated and stands powerful in the center of the rotunda.

“Wow.” It's the only thing you can say as you get closer to the window to get a better look. The driver chuckles at your reaction. You are too distracted by the beauty of the monument to notice the way Calum looks at you, lost in the way the lights illuminate your face and the way your hand is in his, as if they were made to hold only each other. 

All the cars are driving past the monument as if it was nothing, probably used to the view, but you can’t get enough of the magical feeling that you feel just by looking at it.

As the Arc de Triomphe is now behind you, you sit back in your seat, your mouth still slightly open from the astonishment of the sight. They might have been some of the most intense minutes you’ve ever experienced.

“Everytime we finish a show here, we always ask to pass by here. After the confusion of the concert, this view always manages to bring peace. Usually we are always exhausted but we try to stay awake as much as possible to not miss this view.” He whispers, looking out and smiling at the memories. 

“I know how much you daydream and how much you like these views and as soon as they gave us the tour dates, I immediately asked to let you come with us. I knew you would like it.” 

The idea that Calum has thought of you, especially in this occasion, warms your heart. He’s not a person who expresses what he feels, he finds it difficult to open up to the world and to the people around him and you know that that's his way of showing that he cares, by gestures, thoughts and small details.

“Thank you, Calum. We passed here yesterday and it was magical in the sun, I didn't expect to love it even more at night.”

The car crosses a bridge and the Seine is illuminated, leading you to fall even more in love with this city. It is definitely the most romantic city in the world, as everyone says.

“Close your eyes.” Calum whispers, taking your hand and putting them on your eyes.

“Wait, why? What are you doing?” You ask but he stays silent. Your heart beats fast. 

Before you know it, the car stops and Calum talks to the driver. You are tempted to open your eyes and peek but the idea that he has decided to surprise you makes you feel too much guilt to do it so you decide to keep your hands on your face.

Calum opens the door, “Give me your hand but keep your eyes closed, okay?” You nod before holding out your hand. He grabs it and, being careful not to hurt you, he gets you out of the car.

You walk  for a while, the noise of the stones is loud as you walk on them and the wind ruffles your hair.

“Keep your eyes still closed for a moment.” He whispers in your ear making you feel chills all over your body.

You feel him moving away and you try to use your senses to understand where you are. You hear people talking in the distance, the noise of some cars behind you as you play with your fingers to entertain yourself while you wait. You aren’t afraid, there’s no single cell in your body that feels fear, you trust him too much to think about the idea that he left you there. He would be ready to climb the highest mountain and cross the hottest deserts to come to you, there’s no emergency that’ll let him leave your side. 

Since the first moment his eyes saw you, he knew that he couldn’t let you go.

You feel someone stand in front of you before you hear him speak: “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

Calum is standing in front of you, he’s looking straight in your eyes to see your reaction. He’s holding a red rose in his right hand and a huge smile is on his lips. Behind him, the Eiffel Tower is majestic, a source of light in the dark of the night. You’re left speechless, the magic you’re living is impossible to explain with words. It seems like billions of stars are joined by surrounding the structure, illuminating it and making it something eternal.  

There are a few people in the distance, taking photos of the structure and laughing at each other. 

There’s a musician on the side of the tower, she’s playing songs that you’re not familiar with and yet they seem to be perfect for this moment. They might be love songs, or even sad songs, but the melody envelops the atmosphere that surrounds you, making you look like the protagonists of a dream.

“Calum.” It’s the only thing you’re able to say. He’s standing there, between you and the Eiffel Tower, one of the most beautiful attraction in the entire world and yet his beauty almost steals the spotlight. But he’ll never know.

He grins and turns around to admire the structure. You reach to take your phone from the pocket of your jacket and take a picture of him, of the Tower, of everything that is surrounding you. Something to look at when you’ll need to think about a happy memory. 

“I’m in love. That’s it. I know what love looks like now.” You said admiring the view. 

“With me?” He looks at you smiling.

“You wish, don’t you?.” 

He laughs and there’s no sound that could be better than that. Not even a view could be more beautiful. Calum Hood laughing in front of the Eiffel Tower, in the middle of the night, surrounded by stars is a sight that no one will ever experience and you hold this moment close to your heart.

“I’m moving here.” You say after a few minutes of silence. 

“You can’t.” 

“Why?” 

“I can’t live without you.” Your heart skips a beat. “How am I supposed to wake up on time and to go to all my appointments if you don’t remind me?” You both laugh. 

“Fine, I’ll honor you with my presence for a little while longer.” 

“Thank you.” 

For a moment, you look straight into each other's eyes. The world seems to stop, except for the Tower and the music in the distance. Calum takes a piece of your hair behind your ear and you can see your reflection in his eyes. 

“It’s getting late, we should go.” He whispers close to your lips.

“Do we really have to go?” You want to close your eyes but you can’t seem to leave the sight of his face. A face that you see everyday but that you can’t get enough of. 

“Yeah but this’ll be our little secret. A place that you can escape to when you’re tired of the world. It’s gonna be here-” He says before pointing to your mind, “-and here.” He stops pointing to your heart and for a second you stop breathing.

“We have too many secrets, Calum.” You say as he takes your hand and walks towards the Taxi. You can’t see his face but his body language is telling you that he’s smiling.

He opens the door of the car and gets in and you follow him, not before looking at the Eiffel Tower one last time and taking a deep breath. 

The drive back to the party passes quickly and silently, your head is again resting on Calum's shoulder and his head is resting on yours, your hands are intertwined as you play with your fingers while the stereo plays slow, almost inaudible music.

“We are here.” The driver says with a strong accent and you realize that you're back in that building. You both get out of the car and while Calum pays for the ride, you look around you. 

“It’s okay to escape reality every once in a while, as long as you remember to come back to reality to me.” He whispers while you get inside the house and you look at him confused before noticing the scene in front of you. 

As you enter through the big door, you see that everything looks exactly as when you left. People are doing the same things they were doing before and while you throw your jacket on the couch, you notice that the stereo is playing the same playlist it was playing a couple of hours ago. 

Calum is back at talking with Roy and Luke, he’s holding a drink and he’s laughing at something his friend is saying.

You go back to the group you were with at the start of the party, nobody seemed to have noticed your absence. The girl in front of you keeps talking about the promotion she got at work but you’re not really listening. 

You look around before your gaze gets placed in front of you and you notice that Calum is looking at you too, he gives you a questioning look and winks before turning his attention back to his friends.

You smile.

[falling-pages]

Fight for me: Hikaru x Renge

Renge tends to Hikaru's wounds after he gets in a fight to defend her.

-

Renge Houshakuji x Hikaru Hitachiin

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort, first kiss

Warnings: None

-

Hikaru knew how to throw a punch, but holding his own against three men was above even his own skill level.

It was amazing he had lasted so long in the fight until Mori spotted him and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck like a kitten, tossing him from the circle and finishing the fight himself. Those three upperclassmen didn’t stand a chance--yet he felt his blood run hot at the thought that he had to be saved when he was trying to save someone else.

Toui Kendarishi and his dumb fucking mouth just had to get under his skin, again.

A sharp scrub against his cheekbone jerked him back to reality. He hissed, going to swat at it, before the girl grabbed his wrist and pushed it back down.

“Don’t get mad at me, I’m just trying to help you,” Renge grumbled.

Yeah, some help she was. With every dab of the cotton ball and slab of ointment he relived every moment of the fight, every right hook and gut punch and kick he had endured for her, and she had no idea. The only soothing thing about this therapy appointment was her nails scratching his scalp, but only to distract him from a bad bout of pain.

He only rolled his eyes, jerking away as she moved on to his mouth. “I know you didn’t just roll your eyes at me,” she said, tugging at his bottom lip. His top lip had taken the brunt of Kendarishi’s fists, and all he tasted was his own blood in the back of his throat. He was sure he was a monster to look at, blood staining his teeth and tongue. As it dried against his skin, Renge thumbed it away, smearing it against her hand before she took a washcloth to it.

“So observant,” he hissed, resisting the urge to spit at the taste clouding his senses. Sarcasm was his trusted defense mechanism, and he relied on it heavily now to distract himself from the feeling of her fingers playing with his lips.

A harsh scrub against the wound was her own way of backtalk. “Sass me again, and I’ll stop, and you can explain to Kaoru why you look like a fucking Picasso,” she said.

“Tch.”

But he listened. The blood and spit and pain rendered him essentially mute, much to her amusement, as she worked. His eyes wandered around her bathroom, impossibly pink and frilly for a college apartment. Like the rest of her place, it was like Paris had vomited itself inside, the chunk of the concoction muddled in the bathroom. A pink fuzzy rug was below him as he was perched on her gilded toilet, a gaudy shower curtain boasting images of the Eiffel Tower, and even her mirror was embossed with rhinestones. Everything, from the toilet paper pile to the cosmetics cases, were perfectly stacked and organized, with not a speck of dust or dirt to be found.

Geez. And he thought her shrill demands of perfection in high school were bad. Their host room was spotless thanks to her dictatorship, but this was on another level.

“Admiring the bathroom, I see,” she said, sucking in her cheek as she fiddled with opening a band-aid. Her nails, long and purple, couldn’t quite find the purchase to pinch the covering from the adhesive side.

His life and health were quite literally in her hands, but Hikaru couldn’t hold back the snicker from his bleeding lips. “It’s mental,” he said, reaching up to help her with the band-aid.

Renge ripped it away from him, glowering down her nose at him in the most egregious French expression she could muster. He hadn’t known her in France, but he imagined that was the look she gave every servant, every waiter, every busboy who didn’t fit her exact demands. “I’ve got it,” she spat, turning her back to him. Her shoulders shook, but because of the effort of unpeeling the band-aid or some unknown emotion, he didn’t know.

“Here,” she resumed, turning to face him, and Hikaru’s heart cracked at the tears welling up in her pretty brown eyes, the heaviness in her voice. It sounded so heavy, despite its usual nasal tone, and exhausted, defeated. What had she gone through when her back was turned?

He made her cry. He knew he could take the teasing too far sometimes, but bringing a girl to tears was childish, a middle school prank he had sworn to leave far behind him. But he had done it again, not even to a nobody, but to the girl who was fixing him up, his friend, whom he had grown up with and bruised two ribs defending.

As she leaned down to apply the bandage to his cheek, he tried to meet eyes, to apologize without aggravating his poor lips, but she evaded his glance, pursing her lips and focusing on her work. Her hands shook, lightly grazing his temple.

“Renge, hey, I’m--” he grabbed her wrist, and she jerked away, stepping back until she hit the wall. His voice forced more tears from her eyes, and she buried her face in her hands as she sobbed, massive pink bow bobbing with every movement.

“Just stop, Hikaru, stop!” she yelled, muffled by her closing throat. “I can’t take it anymore. I can’t keep stitching you back up when you snap, I can’t take how mean you are. We aren’t in school anymore, we’re adults, we’re in college, and you’re just puffing your chest like you’re invincible, picking fights and losing them.” She finally showed her face, anger and fear and… something he couldn’t place etched into the lines beneath her eyes. “You want to know what’s mental?” She gestured to him, waving her hand up and down his whole form. “This is mental. You getting into fight after fight and not learning a damn thing from them, that’s what. It’s amazing you didn’t break your nose.”

Blood and anger coiled in the back of his throat. He lunged forward and grabbed her arm again, firmer this time, and yelled out, “I did this for you! I got in this fight for you!”

Renge pressed further against the wall, but she stopped fighting. Her hands shook in his tight grasp. Eyes as big as a silver dollar gazed up at him, heart thrumming wildly in her chest. “What?”

“I got in a fight with Kendarishi, right?”

“Yes.”

“And who is he to you?”

Renge blushed, letting her eyes drift to his chest. She spotted a new bruise mottling on his collarbone. “My ex-boyfriend.”

“Exactly.”

Hikaru released her wrists and watched as they fell to her side, like all the resistance had been sucked out of her. “Every time I fight with him, it’s because he said something bad about you. And then he started saying stuff about me fighting for you, so I just can’t win. I just have a lot of motivation and a lot of anger.”

“Why do you care so much what he says about me?” she asked, still not meeting his eyes.

“Because it was some bad stuff, Ren,” he said. “And I know we haven’t always gotten along, but you’re my friend, and I’m not gonna stand there and while he calls you a ‘fucking French whore who screws every guy she meets.’”

She swung at him, but he blocked, whining, “Hey, he said it, not me!”

When he put his hands down, she was shaking, with rage and sadness and something that looked an awful lot like determination in her eyes. “Bold of him to call me a whore when he’s the one who cheated.” Her hands ball into fists, and her eyes scanned him again--with a less medical glare, this time, and more of a vengeance. “And he did this to you?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll be back.”

“Wait!”

Hikaru grabbed her by the back of her shirt and suddenly realized exactly how Mori must have felt watching him fight it out on the academic lawn. Renge’s feet scrambled on the tile, but he held her in place, dragged her back in front of him to block her path. “What, so you’re going to go fight him now since he fought me?”

“That’s not a good enough reason?” she pouted.

“No, but…” Hikaru rubbed the back of his neck. “You were just lecturing me about fighting him. Seems a little hypocritical to me, Ren.”

“Don’t use words you don’t understand,” she huffed, leaning back against the wall. She didn’t fight him when he leaned in closer, securely caging in her body. “You were just defending my honor. Let me do the same.”

“Mori dragged me out of the fight, so I’d say he fucked them up good enough,” Hikaru said, and his heart thumped especially hard when she laughed. Oh God, it was like the tinkling of a bell, cool and clear and exactly what he imagined confectioner’s sugar to sound like. He felt himself dragged with a current, down the slope of a well, but he didn’t mind; he looked into her eyes and allowed the feeling to bouy him along. If he weren’t bleeding, he might have just kissed her, but he didn’t need her slap adding to his injuries.

Renge’s breath hitched when he leaned closer, resting his forearm parallel above her head. She was so busy in high school that she never noticed how soft his eyes were, almost golden, like the rising sun over a field of wheat. It reminded her of mornings on her family’s country estate, when she would meditate and do yoga and drink tea while the world quietly joined her in consciousness, when everything was soft and drowsy. Such beautiful eyes, bruised and marred and bloodied for her.

“Renge, I--”

“Don’t,” she whispered, lacking her usual venom. “Let’s enjoy what we have right now.”

Hikaru bit his lip, immediately regretting it as the pain surged back through him. When Renge laughed again, he couldn’t help it; he leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers, drinking in that sweet, drawled perfume that he so often used to make fun of her for wearing. She smelled like a doll, but she was anything but--smart, outspoken, a firecracker all wrapped up in that pretty pink bow.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, lowering his hand to her hair without thinking. He caressed the silky locks, trailing his fingers down to touch her temple, tucking the stray hairs behind her ear. “And so soft.”

“You know I’m anything but soft,” she grumbled, but his touch was warm, and like a moth to a flame, she went to him, brushed her knuckles against the bruises on his collarbone. If it hurt him, he gave no indication; from the way he was looking at her, an asteroid could have hit earth and he probably wouldn’t have noticed.

“Sound pretty soft right now.”

Renge rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

“Gonna make me?”

Never one to turn down a challenge, Renge pushed up on her tiptoes and kissed him, as gently as she could manage. In an attempt to avoid his wound, her mouth only landed on half of his, but he could still taste the cinnamon on her breath, the stickiness of her lip gloss on his skin. Some hell of a first kiss, but at least it was a kiss, so he didn’t mind.

He ran his hands up her sides, tickling her ribs above her shirt. She broke the kiss with a giggle, bumping his nose with his as she threw her head back in laughter. What a beautiful sight he had there, all at the expense of a busted lip and a bruised eye.

“Remind me to get in a fight more often, if this is the payoff I get,” he whispered, grinning at her pointed glare.

“Don’t you dare,” she ordered. “You need to let this lip heal so I can give you a proper kiss.”

Hikaru raised an eyebrow. “That wasn’t a proper kiss?”

“No.” Renge lowered her eyes back to his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him back in. “Once you’re healed, I’ll show you how the French really kiss.”

-

Kofi & Commission

[the-alice-of-hearts]

Kids again Ch 1

AO3 Next>

Ch 1: She likes to drink her coffee black

Summary:

Soulmates come in twos; At least they usually did

98% of the world's population has a soulmate bond. Of those, 80% have platonic bonds. Only .2% of all soul bonds connected more than two people.

Having three soulmates is exactly the kind of cosmic joke the universe would play on a True Wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous. If it gives a boy who still had a lot of life to live a second chance, well that is still in Creation's domain, now isn't it?

Marinette loved the boy in her heart, and the other two links were twisted around each other in a way only romantic pairs could be. If only she could have loved him enough to save him /||\ Jason wanted, more than anything, to protect the girl who his heart belonged to; protect her from the harness of the world, and then from what he had become.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves here, let's start at the beginning.

Ch 1: She likes to drink her coffee black

The first time Jason looked into his Soulmate’s life she was happy. Whoever she was, she seemed happy. The first strong emotion that he got from her was pure bliss and a sense of major accomplishment. The first time he got to see through her eyes he was eight years old. She was rushing out the door waving goodbye to smiling parents, a thermos in one hand and a cute pink backpack in the other. He cherished this memory like no other. There were other strong emotions from the bond, most of them were similar. She was happy and seemed strong. After that, Jason tried not to let his emotions overwhelm him; he didn’t want the girl with the happy laugh and the pink backpack to see where he was.

He knew he didn’t do as good a job as he tried. The feeling of worry in his heart that he knew came from her told him so. He could feel when she worried about him not eating enough, so he tried not to go to bed hungry too often. He could feel when she would panic because she hadn’t felt anything from him for too long. He would go and listen to the musicians playing on the streets; trying desperately to feel as happy as he could for her.

When he had gotten stabbed defending another kid from a man with a knife, he wasn’t sure if his panic was his own or hers. He felt like he was watching someone die though, so he was pretty sure it was her panic feeding into his own pain. He made sure to take care of himself so that she didn’t think he had died.

This went on for a long time; him looking in and seeing small bits of her life and later try to send good things back as much as he could. He figured out she was from Paris when the Eiffel Tower was in so many of the small glimpses he saw. So, he stole an English to French dictionary. He then found a bookstore, he could steal from it pretty easily, that had a copy of a book filled with his favourite fairy tales in French. He learned French, then he took it as his language elective. Slowly, he started to understand what she was saying in his visions of her. She had a small number of friends, but they were pretty close. She still worried about him far too often, but he noticed that on days where she was worried she would go out of her way to be as happy as possible. It was like she was trying to make him warm from the inside. And on those days, when was cold and hungry and desperate for a safe place to sleep, he would hold on to her happiness and promise himself that he would be happy for her tomorrow.

When he became Robin he was worried about her finding out. What if Bruce made him stop being Robin? For this reason, he stayed quiet about his Soulmate. Most bonds were platonic anyways, so he just didn’t mention that his bond was romantic.

He hoped she would at least get to see happier emotions from him. He knew that she had to have seen some of where he grew up, but he wanted to believe that maybe she would now get to see these happier moments. Jason vowed to live every happy moment to its fullest.

He hoped she got to see Alfred teaching him to cook, and him learning how to bake all her favourite pastries. He hoped she saw Dick teaching him gymnastics, seeing all the times he fell but got back up. He wanted her to see him and Dick goofing off and the times they would go sneak off behind Bruce’s back when he told them not to skip patrol to do just that and get ice cream in the suits. He hoped she saw him and Bruce sitting in the library reading, the two of them watching movies together when he was too sick to patrol. He wanted her to see that he had a family that loved him now. He hoped that she wouldn’t worry about him so much anymore; that he wouldn’t be a burden on her anymore.

He thought he had hidden this from his new family, but somehow Alfred always knew everything. Jason almost panicked when Alfred broached the conversation while he was teaching Jason to make macarons

“Does your Soulmate have a favourite flavor, Master Jason?”

“I- uh,” he tried to come up with a way to deny it, but knew that he would never get something past Alfred. Still he tried, “What do you mean?”

Alfred smiled, not looking away from measuring the ingredients. “Growing up, my best friend had a Soulmate that grew up in a troubled home. He told me he knew when she was in a better place because she started pouring emotions into everything she did so that he could feel, as well as see, that she was safe.” Alfred turned back to the cabinet looking at their ingredients. “I just thought that you seemed to be doing something similar. I apologize if I misread the situation.”

Jason stood there thinking for a moment. He looked around and listened to make sure Bruce wasn’t about to walk into the kitchen. He moved closer to Alfred so he could whisper, ”Her name is Marinette. I heard one of her friends call her Netté, though.” When Alfred didn’t stop him from talking he kept going. “She likes matcha ones best, but she always tells her mom that she likes strawberry ones because they're less work.”

That was all that was said. They finished making the cookies and Alfred packaged them up for him to have in his room. Jason was pretty sure that Alfred knew he was hoarding food, but so long as no one stopped him and probably even if they did he would keep doing it. Living on the streets taught him that a next meal isn’t guaranteed, and even if it was unlikely he would ever go hungry under Alfred’s watchful eyes, he still wanted a back up plan if he needed to make a break for it.

The next time someone asked about her was about a year later on a stakeout in Blüdhaven with Dick. Bruce had gotten scared when Jason got hurt and wouldn’t let him patrol in Gotham until his injuries had completely healed. Jason got antsy and ran away to crash on Dick’s couch until Bruce let up on the restriction.

Dick had just sat down next to him on the building they were on. “Hey, Little Wing”

Jason turned to him. “Yeah?”

“Do you ever try to send your soulmate messages?”

Jason’s throat closed up in terror. Dick kept talking as though he hadn’t noticed Jason tensing up and planning an escape route. “It’s just, sometimes I see what he’s seeing and I don’t know how to tell him that I want to look out for him, ya know? And his dad is kinda distant, but his mom loves him a lot. I don’t know though, because sometimes I can feel dread coming from my soul link but without any glimpses into what he’s seeing. Alfred thought maybe I have a platonic soulmate that is experiencing dread. Lately I’ve only had happy and joyful feelings so I’m worried that if I do have a platonic soulmate that maybe something bad happened to them. I have no idea how I would be able to send a message to a platonic soulmate though, so I wondered if maybe you knew?”

Jason had slowly gotten more confused while listening to his brother. He hadn’t considered the possibility of having more than one soulmate. “Wait, you mean you can have more than one Soulmate? I thought Soulmates were pairs?”

Dick shrugged. “My parents explained it being more like pieces of the same picture. Most bonds are platonic and platonic bonds are more likely to be someone who you grew up near, so you would have similar experiences with similar emotional responses. That’s why people don’t always notice them, but when you have a romantic bond that you can actually see through each other's eyes, you notice, yeah?”

Jason nodded. “So you have a romantic Soulmate, but think you also have a platonic bond?”

Dick ran a hand through his hair staring out at the windows they were watching, “Yeah, I don’t know how to describe it though. Honestly, I’m pretty sure I have three soulmates. The third is a lot quieter though. My mom laughed once and told me maybe it wasn’t that I had three soulmates, but that my soulmates had another link to each other.”

“Does that happen?”

“I don’t think so, but the stories about that happening are more fairy tale than concrete evidence. I like to think I have three though. I hope that, whoever my platonic bond is, they have their own romantic bond they can lean on. I don’t know if there is anything I can do for them unless I figure out who they are.”

Jason scoffed and then went on the alert seeing movement in the room. “We’ve finally got company.”

Dick smiled and ran back a few steps. “Wanna see me do a flip into the window?”

“Ten bucks says you don’t break the glass and fall on the ground.”

He laughed at that. “Be ready to pay up, Little Wing. I’ll get the two gunmen, then you swing in and help me with the others.”

He took a running start and jumped off the roof they had been on, doing a flip to keep his momentum up. He crashed through the glass rolling into a handspring, kicking the guns out of the two goons' hands. Jason followed using his grappling hook to get across to the now-broken window.

A short fight later and they had the men all tied up. Dick called the police with the info and then they were grappling away from the scene.

“Hey, Dick?”

“Yeah?”

“Earlier you said that you wanted to figure out who your platonic soulmate was.”

Dick landed on top of the building his apartment was in, then looked at him. “Yeah. I just want to know if I can help them.”

Jason followed him down the fire escape, “I thought that soulmates knew when they found each other; you make it seem like that’s not how it works?”

Dick walked into his room to grab clothes. “When you only have one soulmate, there is a glow when you touch each other the first time. It’s your soul telling you it’s complete, but if you have more than one you only get that if you find all the pieces of your soul.”

“Oh.” He caught the pants Dick threw at him. “Thanks for talking to me about this. I guess there was a lot I didn’t know.”

They crashed on the couch to play video games and eat leftovers. The conversation hung heavy in the air, though. Jason felt like, if he talked first, he would tell Dick everything, but, if Dick had had a romantic Soulmate this whole time, then Bruce had to know about it.

He looked up at his brother from where he was laying with his legs over the side of the couch. “Does Bruce know you have a romantic Soulmate?”

Dick looked down at him from where he was perched on the back of the couch. “Yeah? Why?”

Jason shot Dick's character while he wasn’t paying attention, trying to make him stop looking at him like that. He mulled over the question while avoiding the looks Dick was still giving him during his respawn times. In a small voice he finally answered, “He didn’t make you stop being Robin?”

That made Dick pause the game. He dropped down to sit on the cushion of the couch, leaning his head over Jason to look him in the eyes. “Jason, Alfred would never let Bruce use one of us having a Soulmate as a reason to kick us out of the suit.”

Jason pushed him back so he could sit up. Turning to look at him, he took a deep breath. “He kicked me out of the suit for being hurt. He fired you and sent you here. Why would having a Soulmate be any different?”

Dick reached out and hugged Jason. He felt Dick’s shirt becoming wet from tears he hadn’t realized he was crying. “Oh, baby bird, no, that’s not gonna happen, and if Bruce tries it, then you have a place here. You did really good back there, I would love to have your help anytime.”

Jason sniffled and wrapped his arms around Dick. “What if he tries to make you send me back?”

Dick was still rubbing circles on his back, talking soothingly. “Bruce can’t make me do anything. My bank account has Alfred as my responsible party, and Clark is the name on the lease. If you want to stay here you can, and no one gets to take my brother away from me okay?” Jason nodded, still sniffling but getting his tears under control. “Now enough sad talk. How about I kick your ass in this game and tomorrow I’ll take you to the gym I use and help you with your flips.”

Jason laughed wholeheartedly at that. Sitting up and discreetly wiping his tears, he grabbed his controller again. “Don’t know why you keep trying. You’re not gonna win at this any more than I’m gonna be able to do a backhandspring tomorrow.”

And that was it.

Bruce either didn’t know about his romantic Soulmate, or he really didn’t care. Jason started keeping a journal of written notes about her. He wanted to be able to find her one day, so he needed to know everything he could.

An incomplete list of things I know about my soulmate

Her name is Marinette

Her friends also call her Netté or Mari

She drinks a lot of coffee, usually black. She grabs it on the way to class. Is that a french thing? I feel like I only ever see her with coffee? That can’t be right, maybe it’s from the all-nighters? Her friends have teased her about not sleeping before. Is that more often than I think?

She ignores her own needs to help her friends

She’s like a year younger than me I think.

Her nonna (grandmother?) calls her Marinetta or Little Fairy (could I call her Pixie?)

Lives in Paris

She has an Asian mother; Chinese?

She has an Asian name, but I don’t remember it. Her parents use it but not often enough for me to write it down

Her father is French-Italian

She is in gymnastics, but can be clumsy

Kim, Nino, and Alix are her friends.

Chloe used to be her friend. She doesn’t know what changed things

She likes to draw

She wants to be a clothing designer

She made me something? I couldn’t see what it was, but her mom was really proud of her accomplishment.

She is a really good baker

She likes matcha macarons best; but she never asks for them. She feels guilty about her parents making them just for her

She can lift a giant bag of sugar like it weighs nothing

She likes to help people

She likes pink

She is nice and good. At least I think so.

The list was in a small red notebook. It stayed with him all the time; that way whenever something happened, he could write down any details. He filled the other pages of the book with things he wanted to tell his Soulmate, small bits of his life that he wanted to share with her. He had a spot in his utility belt for it to be, and a pocket in his jacket that he kept it in. He had once shown Dick the list and the pages that he had written about him and Alfred. He smiled when Dick showed him his own similar notebook. Dick’s romantic Soulmate was also from Paris; they both wondered if their Soulmates knew each other.

Jason liked to think so

[ultimatetornshipper]

To bee or not to bee - a Jasonette fic

@moonlitceleste I almost let this die, I honestly really wanted it dead but alas it was clearly meant to bee 

(WARNING: contains puns, angst, crack and fluff. You have been warned)

If you don’t want to read my sarcastic/funny/fangirl commentary, skip the brackets

I have another bee movie au, i didn't plan it ("I don't claim to be proud. But my head won't be hung in shame. I didn't plan it. But the light turned red, and I ran it. And I'm still standing. It's not what I wanted, but now that it's right here. I understand it. A story written by my own hand" as quoted from Waitress), it just happened and i just couldn't resist. I'm not sorry

So what if instead of dying Joker turned Jason into a bee. Because Harley convinced him and told him that people were talking shit about him because he's named the Joker and they don't think he's funny. It surprisingly works. (Obviously Harley was the one who made the plan and did the magic I mean really what do u expect of Joker?)

Ok so now Jason’s a bee right? And he’s like 15 because .~:°*plot*°:~.

They look for him and Jason’s like flying around like, “Guys! Guys I’m right here!” Poor kid. (I mean I would make it funny but like angst)

Obviously they don’t understand him because he’s a fucking bee and Joker cackles madly and Harley laughs too but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes and it's kinda that laugh u do when ur supes overwhelmed and sound maniacal but like soft (I’m a simp for Harley being portrayed as the complex and beautiful character she id leave me be)

Jason is very sad. And also quite pissed

Not knowing what else to do he follows Batman home, he listens to them trying to find him, watches Dick freak out and Alfred wipe a tear the rest of the family doesn’t see.

Jason tries to approach Alfred, hoping he somehow recognizes what happened

He doesn’t, Alfred closes him in a glass and paper and takes him outside.

He sneaks back into the manor and sleeps in one of the flowers (it's a red tulip because aesthetic) next to his bed. He cries himself to sleep. (Can bees cry? Is this possible? Is this like a thing??? I don't need sleep i need answers)

The thing is even tho he's now a bee, he still has the durability of a human, so even stepping on him won’t crush him and he still has a human lifespan

Because Harley isn’t a monster and what Puddin didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. (Simping for Harley Quinn strike 2)

After a while at the manor and following them he decides he can’t stand it anymore. Alfred has thrown him out three times and Dick freaks out each time he sees him as he’s a tad allergic (read: he would die if stung)

Which is how Jason found out that getting hit with a newspaper wouldn’t kill him.

He leaves.

He’s a bee and it’s not like he knows about a way to reverse it.

But there was someone who might.

He goes to Arkham.

Luckily, Harley was still there. (YAY we get to see mah gurl)

He flies into her cell and she just watches him, then she seems to click. She gives him a small smile, “Hi birdie,” (she puns, honestly would make for a better clown of Gotham and I saw an idea for that once where she steals Joker’s title once and I’ve been yearning for it ever since)

She holds out a finger and he lands on it, she laughs but tears come to her eyes,” Hey at least you’re not dead. That was his original plan you know? To kill you with a crowbar. I convinced him this would be a cruller fate. I guess maybe it is, but at least this way... Ugh how the hell did I get here,” (Harley angst, honestly it’s all just self service at this point)

He simply stared at her as she cried, and he felt his heart clench. From here she looked so sad... not crazy, just broken.

She took a deep breath and looked at him seriously, “Look kid, there’s a way to get you back to normal, you just need to find someone, they’re called the Guardian of the Miraculous. They can help, I don’t know who or where they are, just follow your instincts. And come say hi when you get back, yeah? I could do with the... healthier company. And remember, I bee-lieve in you,” (Gasp what a shock, you mean to tell me Miraculous magic is gonna be involved in this Maribat au. Well I never what a shock. Also puns. Oh and she’s so nice to him. We love Harley in this house)

He sat there and studied her for a while more, there was more to her than it seemed. Than what he’d assumed.

But for now, he had his own problems to deal with.

She gave him a small wave as he left. (Adorable)

He left and started considering his options, as a bee, it would probably be safest to stay inside, away from birds and things that would view him as a snack.

Staying in Arkham seemed like his best option, as bad an option as it was.

Most of the prisoners wouldn’t have a second thought about trying to crush him.

A strong scent of flowers and plants suddenly came to his attention.

Of course! Poison Ivy. (Round 2 of me simping for beautiful, complex, badass women. Too bad Catwoman ain’t here.)

He followed the smell to her cell and saw her staring out of her small window. He was still taking a chance, but she loved plants and flowers and bees were important to those, weren’t they?

He flew to the window bars and sat on one. The moment she spotted him she smiled widely, in a soft way he hadn’t seen on her before. (Ahhhhh my darling plant redhead. I love writing the Sirens as soft badasses. Also has anyone noticed how rare brunettes are in superhero worlds? Like both in Marvel and DC but like irl brown is like a pretty damn common)

She held out her finger, “Hey there, little guy. A little far from home, aren’t we?”

She had no idea.

He landed on her fingertip and watched in awe as a flower and a few leaves formed on her hand. She let the flower grow itself around one of her window bars and held her finger next to one of the petals.

“There you go, it’s all I can manage with my power dampers. I haven’t had company in a while,” she said softly as he crawled into the flower. He made himself comfortable.

She laughed to herself and he saw her shaking her head, “Talking to a bee, well, I guess stranger things have happened,” (yeah ur crush is dating a green haired murderous psychopath and you get beat up by a billionaire in a batsuit on like a biweekly basis)

The flower was soft and warm and felt safer than he expected it to. He found that he could move between the petals but decided to curl up in the middle. (It's a pink rose this time because fuck yeah flowers)

He slept better than he had in days.

The next morning he took his leave, stopping only at the manor to say a mental goodbye.

Then he headed off.

Jason flew a lot the first few months, our boy was smart at least, travelling with a cruise ship on its way to Europe.

It was Spring in the Northern Hemisphere so he had until Autumn until it was in his best interest to head south to avoid the snow. He decided to head towards Africa when summer started coming to an end. (I have no reasoning for this, just that I want to)

His first spot would be the United Kingdom. Then he'd go through the rest of Europe following his instincts.

At least it was Spring.

Jason diligently searched through England, Scotland and Ireland but found nothing.

By the time he was done he realized it was time to start heading South. He’d decided to take another cruise to South-Africa, where it would be summer, he searched through the country until April. He would admit that he didn’t feel drawn to anything in any of their 9 provinces so his search wasn’t as diligent as in England. He didn’t feel anymore drawn to the neighbouring countries like Namibia or Botswana either.

(Once again no reasoning for why I picked these countries, I mean the French Hugonotes went there when they were fleeing from the French Catholics who wanted them dead so I guess I could make up some bullshit about Mari having an ancestor in common with someone there or maybe it was just the ship he could easiest get access I don’t know, you make something up)

Which was why he decided to go back to Europe as soon as April hit.

He hitched another ride on a cruise headed for France.

It’s been a year since he got turned into a damn bee.

He was sixteen now and while he’d seen some amazing things all through South-Africa (a place that proves that humans really do have a weirdly obvious way of naming things I mean the Amazon river and Chad Lake are just more examples really) as well as the United Kingdom, all he really wanted was to go back home, to be human again.

When he gets there he diligently makes his way through France, eventually arriving in Paris.

He lands on the tip top of the Eiffel Tower. As in the point of the antenna because why not.

During his year he realized that birds and other animals tended to avoid him, sensing his strangeness so that was at least one positive.

He stared out over the city. Well, the one good thing about this was definitely the views he’s been allowed to see.

That was until a massive explosion hit.

“What the fuck?” he said out loud, searching for the source. No one understood him, human or bee, but talking to himself reminded him of his humanity.

He found the source of the explosion but just as he started flying to its general direction, a blinding white light shone followed by a horde of ladybugs that were fixing everything that was wrong. (Imagine how scary this would lowkey be irl tho? Just a shit ton of Ladybugs descending on Paris my dude)

He decided that he needed a night’s sleep before he could even begin an attempt at deciphering what had just happened. He flew lower, finding a nice little balcony right above a bakery. And it had flowers. (I’ll give u five seconds to guess who this balcony belongs to)

He flew down, exploring.

He turned around when he heard a loud thump from behind him. What appeared to be a super heroine in red spandex with black spots had landed on the balcony.

She detransformed and started to talking to a floating bug- fairy thing. Strange. Though it wasn’t like he could judge, as an ex superhero sidekick who was thought to be dead but was actually a bee.

She disappeared down her trapdoor and he made himself comfortable in one of her flowers.

He slept soundly until somewhere during a night another thump woke him. He looked out of his sleeping spot to see a cat superhero stand on her balcony. He leaned down and knocked on her small trapdoor.

Ah, a teammate of hers, they were probably meeting about something, he thought as he heard her open up.

It didn’t take him long to realize that even though they were teammates, the cat, Chat Noir he later learned, was not aware of this fact.

Oh this was rich.

He couldn’t bee-lieve his eyes. (ok so Jason used self-referential puns but can you really blame him? It’s really just me and my pun problem so don’t blame the kid)

He was going on and on about his feelings for Ladybug, the girl’s hero form, that were clashing with his feelings for another girl he fenced with, while she listened, clearly fed up with it.

He also claimed that he thought that maybe they were one and the same. Which, to Jason, was hilarious as he was literally saying this to the actual Ladybug’s face.

Marinette- he learned from the Cat’s ongoing blabbering, he was a real blab-bee mouth, - was clearly tired, nodding half asleep, probably having heard it all before.

When he finally left Jason went to sleep again, incredibly amused and even more thankful that he was fluent in French. ( u think this is plot convenience? Just u wait mah dude iz about to get worse)

The next morning he decided to follow her to school. Which was how he learned of her huge crush on a boy named Adrien Agreste.

After learning the boy could fence thanks to Marinette’s obsession interest in him, he got suspicious.

Could it really bee? (not a typo)

After seeing the boy transform a month or two later for patrol he laughed like he hadn’t for over a year. It very much was. He'd spent the time staying on Marinette's balcony and decided to stay another week before moving on and continuing his search, after all, he couldn't stop now that he finally felt like he was getting close.

The next day she got home crying, claiming that Adrien had started dating someone else.

Kagami, she called the girl. Probably the fencer if he had to place a bet.

“I’m sorry, Marinette,” Tikki told the girl.

“That boy's an idiot,” he said, speaking his mind, another thing he’d gotten use to being allowed to do without consequence.

Marinette nearly jumped out of her skin, she looked around and he realized that she could hear him. He hadn’t really spoken too much before, at least not when she was around. He was usually content with watching her do whatever she was doing that day.

“Tikki, did you hear that?” she asked, Tikki nodded, her eyes landing on him.

“Oh,” the kwami said softly, flying over to him, “Oh, you poor thing, who did this to you?” (Tikki is the first ever mom friend and u can fight me on this)

He stared up at her, flying so that they were eye level.

Marinette gaped at them, heartbreak seemingly forgotten, “Tik- Tikki, are- who are you talking- are you talking to a – Tikki is that a bee?!” she finally spluttered out.

“No,” Tikki said, studying him, he felt his heart twist in hope and his stomach roll in surprise. Did she know?

“I mean yes, but no. He’s a boy whose been turned into a bee,” Tikki explained, turning back to Marinette.

“Oh,” Marinette said softly, turning to him. She held her hand out and after some hesitation he landed on her finger. She looked at him then back to Tikki.

How did they know? Would he really be that lucky? Was this real?

“Uhm, how?” she said, staring at him in disbelief. He tried shrugging but realized he couldn’t anymore- beecause of his- well if you haven’t caught on to the fact that he’s a bee by now you should really start from the beginning of this story.

“I don’t know, but Joker and Harley Quinn were involved,” he said.

Marinette stared at him in disbelief, blinking a few times. She sat in shock a few moments longer. (Our darling is an awkward lil bean, and while in media awkward is portrayed as cute, irl it isn’t, it’s just well… awkward. And we’re writing a serious and realistic fic about this sidekick of guy who wears a batsuit/billionaire's ward getting turned into a bee and falling in love with a magical girl fighting a butterfly man- none of this unrealistic nonsense)

Tikki flew over and sat on Marinette’s shoulder while her holder processed the information, the kwami stared at him sweetly, “What’s your name?”

He swallowed, he hadn’t said his name in ages, it stirred up something (emotion, it’s called emotion, Jason, you know? The thing Batman can’t process??) in him, “Jason Todd,”

Marinette seemed to finally snap out of her daze, “That sounds American. Are you American? Wait if Joker and Harley are involved then you’re probably from Gotham. Are you? Wait I’ve seen the name Jason Todd somewhere. Weren’t you some rich guy’s ward? It was all over the news last year, Alya wouldn’t stop talking about it for a month, she had a million theories. He was – you were announced dead two months after Robin was taken captive by Joker, everyone thought he was – you were killed. Joker made outrageous claims as they arrested him... saying that they’d never find Robin... that he’d all but disappeared in thin air... that he wouldn’t be the only one wearing stripes... I remember because he put a really weird emphasis on the words be and stripes and...,” her eyes widened and she gasped as she looked at him in what could only be described as pure shock. (Yes this happens, people can talk for this long and since I personally know headcannon that Marinette is ADHD this long ass paragraph is just another Tuesday bud)

He sat there, surprised that she figured it all out so quickly. (yeah bub it’s called plot convenience and it’s because of me, the writer, I don’t wanna focus on secret ID shenanigans, I got other plans for yall, also Mari is smart, don’t underestimate her)

“You’re Robin,” she breathed, “they turned you into a bee. Wait- How the hell did they turn you into a bee?!”

He chuckled, “Bee-lieve me I’ve been asking myself that question for more than a year,”

She bit her lip, seemingly contemplating his words and ignoring his pun, “Tikki do you know anything that could help? Do you think Miraculous magic-,”

He felt his heart stop, he flew up to her face, flying at eye level, “Wait, did you just say Miraculous? Harley said if I could find the Guardian of the miraculous, they could help me, do you know where they are? I’ve been looking for so long,” (‘°;~*.plot convenience.*~;°’)

Marinette blinked at him and Tikki's face dawned with realization.

“I’m the guardian of the miraculous,” Marinette said softly, “Tikki, that means I can help him, right?”

Tikki nodded and he had to dial down the hope in his heart because the look on her face told him there was a Kim Kardashian sized butt on the way.

“We can help him, but we’re gonna have to wait. (don’t look at me like that, do u want them to have time to bond or not?) You’re not trained enough to pull it off yet. If you were to do it now, all three of us would be out of commission for far too long, especially with Hawkmoth on the prowl,” Tikki said.

They must’ve been able to sense his sadness because they were staring at him with an incredible amount of pity. The amount was quite unsettling actually and he suddenly felt a primal like urge to pun. (An extract from my book: “My unhealthy coping mechanisms and how to use them,” specifically Chapter 8: “Humor hides the pain”)

Suddenly Tikki’s face lit up, the whiplash of her expression change throwing any notion of punning out the window.

“Well, there’s one thing we could do,” she said, excitedly, zipping buzzing around “If he wears a miraculous, he'll return back to human form while transformed,”

Marinette perked up at the idea, but confusion soon overtook her features, “But Tikki, most of the miraculous are bigger than he is,”

Tikki waved her away,” It’s fine it’ll work,”

“Ok,” Marinette said after a bit of thought. She stood and he followed while she started climbing down her skylight,” I’m thinking you can try each of them out for different patrols and then we’ll see which one matches you best. This could be fun, having some fun sized company while figuring out how to defeat Hawkmoth,”

He laughed, flying near her ear, “Fun sized, huh? I’ll have you know I’m considered tall in human form, unlike some of us,”

She laughed and rolled her still tear stained eyes, and so, the beginning of a bee-autiful friendship bloomed.

Marinette walked to her closet and Jason took in her room. It was very pink, but in a well-balanced way - it wasn’t completely overbearing. His eye caught on a few pictures of Adrien Agreste on her wall but figured now wouldn’t be a great time to bring it up. (Look he’s already more emotionally aware, #foreshadowing of character development)

She removed a big box from her closet. She opened it and it was filled with what appeared to be a bunch of scrap materials. At the bottom she removed a bigger bundle of black and red fabric and he flew closer.

She put it in her lap and Jason had to do a double take when he realized that her hands were glowing and what the actual fuck- it was a box now -fuck fuck fuck- why was it a box? How? What- Jason was pretty sure he did not sign up for this.

She put the box down in front of her and to his relief she opened her mouth to speak as she lifted the lid, so he’d understand everyth- and its jewellery.

The box contained jewellery. Animal themed jewellery by the looks of things.

He then realized that these were probably the other miraculous.

She looked over each artefact before handing him the yellow and black hairclip.

Out of all of them, she picked the bee miraculous.

“Hilarious,” he replied dryly, giving her a look, he realized too late she wouldn’t be able to register- on account of, well you know… (if u don’t know by now, you don’t get to find out anymore)

She gave him a grin and replied, “I certainly think it is,”

Her teasing expression turned into one of worry, “I mean we could switch it out if it makes you uncomfortable-,” (being a sassy people pleaser with no filters really do be like this tho)

He laughed, “Don’t worry, I’m only teasing. What do I do?”

Marinette opened her mouth to answer before obviously realizing that she didn’t have an answer. She turned to Tikki and the kwami had a fond smile on her face before turning to Jason. (Just Tikki casually mentor- moming Mari because Fu is useless)

“Just step on the miraculous, it’ll sense that you’re human,” the creature replied.

When he stepped onto the bee miraculous, its kwami appeared.

Pollen stared at him for a few seconds before she realized what was happening.

After an explanation about her power set and what exactly he could do in suit, he transformed.

He felt his human body appearing. He was taller and more built than he remembered being. His flying clearly had physical consequences then, not that he was complaining.

His suit included a pair of bee wings. His hair was longer than he remembered it being too.

He had a black leather jacket and combat boots. With it was a pair of practical black leggings and a yellow t-shirt with three thick black stripes. (The three stripes represent each one of his families, the Todds, the Waynes and The Dupain-Chengs, because I can) He also had a pair of black gloves. His boots had yellow laces. On his face was a black and yellow striped domino mask. The top sat on his hip. The bee miraculous sat on the middle of his chest in the form of a broach.

He all but sprinted to the mirror. He stared at his face, his blue eyes and his nose that never healed quite right after breaking it that one time. His black hair was messy and stuck up every which way, his cheekbones were as high as always, and he had a little bit of stubble and it was so familiar and so new all at once.

He touched his face, barely registering the tears flowing down his cheeks and laughed in relief. He was human again. This was real! He could- he was closer to normal than he ever thought he’d get to be.

He turned to Marinette who was staring up at him in shock. He picked her up and spun her around, laughing in joy. And after a moment she joined in. He put her down and put his hands on her shoulders, smiling widely, “Thank you. Thank you so much,”

She smiled up at him, a slightly sad look on her face, “I’m sorry, it’s not permanent,”

“Don’t be sorry. For the first time I have hope. It will be permanent eventually, and till then, I have you with me, right?” he squeezed her shoulder, still high on the feeling of hope and warmth and familiarity.

When he was overcome with the sudden urge to pull her into a hug, he didn’t resist.

He held her close, resting his chin on her head, “Damn, I missed this. Hugging, I mean. I haven’t... it’s been so long,” (not that he got all that many hugs from Bruce “emotionally constipated” Wayne)

She wrapped her arms around him, “I can imagine,”

They stood there a while before the time for patrol came along. She transformed and they made their way to the Eiffel tower, where they met Chat.

The cat themed hero rose his brow questioningly, “I thought we didn’t recruit new heroes unless it was an emergency?”

Ladybug smiled nonchalantly, “It’s Guardian business, he’s gonna be a permanent fixture in our team for at least a few months so we might as well get used to working as a team,”

Chat Noir eyed him wearily and he stepped forward, sticking his hand out, “Hi, I’m Blackback, nice to meet you,”

Chat Noir shook his hand and gave Ladybug a sceptical look, “An American? Really?”

“Please Chat, he's not American, it’s just the glamour hiding his actual accent,” she replied simply, shooting Jason a worried look.

He couldn’t give away his identity, but he was also technically a bee, he didn’t really have an identity to give away. So, her behaviour was strange. Unless she wanted to give him an identity somehow?

He couldn’t stop thinking about it for the rest of patrol.

When they got home Marinette revealed that she wanted to give him the fox miraculous. If they asked Trixx she would be able to design the costume in a way that allowed him to look like a normal civilian, without the mask.

Trixx's glamour was also stronger than the rest so his true identity as Jason Todd would be protected.

And she could help him fake an accent.

Since Marinette was a year younger than him he could just pick up where he left off school wise.

She convinced her parents that he was an exchange student in desperate need of a place to stay because the person he would’ve stayed with backed out last minute.

They agreed easily and Jason decided to not question it.

It was his third family. His second if you only counted non abusive ones. First if you wanted one with a healthy family dynamic.

They got him a fake birth certificate and name. He went with the alias Thomas Grayson. He thought it was kind of funny, and it paid homage to both Bruce and Dick. It gave him something from home to hold on to. (Jason isn’t really salty about not being avenged in this au, he didn’t die and Talia and the pit madness wasn’t there to egg on his anger. But maybe if I ever get back to this au we could do a thing with it… guess we’ll have to wait and see ;-) no promises tho)

He built himself another home with Marinette and her family. And before he knew it, he was happy again. He felt secure.

Through the weeks, he ingrained himself into Marinette's life. In a blink of an eye, they were best friends, and he couldn’t imagine life without her.

He loved living with her family as she trained to be strong enough to turn him back to normal.

He grew close to Marinette’s friends and was her shoulder to cry on about Adrien. He and Adrien got along pretty well, and he and Marc and Rose traded Literature jokes. Max would join in when it involved Shakespeare.

Then Lila happened. (She’s a staple in Maribat fiction. U can’t have Maribat without Lila. Or well u can but that’s usually a very specific au)

Her lies started out simple enough. Then she started manipulating everyone and he, Marinette, Chloe and Adrien were one scheme away from being ostracized. They sat in the back row.

They ignored her sneers and let her lie to her heart’s content. Then one day she said something that made both Marinette and Jason freeze.

“You know, I was childhood friends with Jason Todd (I know she usually gets the names wrong but like her knowing the name just makes this next bit better) You know, Bruce Wayne’s ward who died a while ago? It was just so sad. He grew up in a nice family but his parents both died in a car accident and Brucie took pity on him. He even let us keep in contact afterwards, since our parents were such good friends. We all miss them dearly of course. We were neighbours the year we lived in Gotham, you know? We'd play every day-,” she started fake crying, “Oh it just gets too much sometimes,”

But to Jason’s shock Alya didn’t move to console Lila, in fact, she was staring at the brunette in shock.

He turned his gaze to Marinette to see the girl wearing the biggest, coldest, most satisfied smirk. She rested her chin on her hands and grinned at Lila in a way that made shivers go down his spine.

He turned back, this ought to be good.

And it was.

Alya absolutely lost it.

She ripped Lila a new one and frankly? Jason was impressed. (Alya has a temper and she’s a fangirl, and we all know how we get when someone gets something wrong about one of our hyperfixations, even if it’s an old one so like yall can imagine how bad Lila had fucked up)

When an akuma flew in towards Lila, Alya grabbed it, staring the girl down with a fury he didn’t know she could possess, “Don’t you dare! Do you think I’m blind? I’ve seen how easily you get akumatized and this time I’m not letting it happen!”

Of course, Alya then got akumatized but hey it beat another version of Lila.

Everyone made up but they weren’t quite as close as before. Their group tended to consist mostly out of him, Marinette, Chloe, Adrien, Kagami and Luka.

Other than that incident and akuma attacks, life was pretty good.

In fact, it was great.

He and Marinette would spend nights on her balcony, laughing and slow dancing. They star gazed and went on patrols. He helped her when she got nightmares and she returned the favour. They went on long walks and spent the holidays together. They crammed for tests and he played model for her designs. They worked in the bakery and hung out with their friends both in and out of suit. They’d joke about his technical bee-ness and he and Chat drove her mad with puns. In retaliation she’d introduce him as her bee friend to people or only give him honey and bee themed things. (ok this sentence sounds weird but I mean like when she brings them sweets from the bakery to snack on while working and stuff.)

And one laugh, memory and fight at a time, he started to fall. (I just want good things for Jason, and really can you blame me?)

Through the months, he kept up to date on the news about Bruce Wayne and Marinette held his hand each time a new kid joined his brood. She reminded him that no child could be replaced and reassured him that of course Bruce would want him back when they figured everything out.

And if he didn’t, she’d kick his ass into space, and he’d stay with her family in Paris- a family she made sure he knew he was a part of.

He helped Sabine in the kitchen and was the only one who came closest to beating Marinette’s Ultimate Mega Strike 3 record. Tom taught him to shave and bake. He was integrated into their family and they treated him as part of the family.

But even if they were giving him everything they were, he missed Bruce. And Dick. And Alfred. And Barbara. And Gotham. He missed them all so much. He missed home.

So, 14 months later, when Marinette told him they had a meeting with the Justice League about the Hawkmoth situation, Jason felt his heart skip a beat.

“What?” he asked softly, his eyes brimming with tears (Marinette taught him how to emotion, you see. So Jason is emotionally stable-ish enough to cry without feeling embarrassed about it), “I get to see him again?”

Marinette nodded and hugged him from behind, “I’m planning on telling him what happened. Is there anything you can tell him to verify who you are?”

Memories from a million years ago entered his mind, “Yes,”

She took his hand and took a step back, “And I think I can fix you before we go, I’m strong enough. But I’d still like your help in the final battle, I mean I know you’re going home but...,”

He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and smiled, “Of course, Pixie. I’ll always be there for you when you need me,”

He pressed a kiss against her forehead, a movement so familiar it was practically a part of him. He pulled her close and cried into her hair.

“What if he doesn’t believe me?” he asked softly, after a while, resting his chin on top of her head.

“He will,” she replied, tightening her grip around his waist.

They both knew she had no guarantee of that. That she had no way of knowing for sure. Neither of them did.  And it scared him more than he wanted to admit.

The next day they do the magic turning back thing. It freaks him out quite a bit but not as much as her revealing the miraculous freaked him out the first time, you get kinda used to the magic shenaniganary. They’re both passed out for an hour afterwards and when they wake up, he holds her, crying, because he was finally, finally back to normal and this was real and permanent, and it was over.

She cried with him and held him, and they then went out and he wore a shirt she made for him, and they got ice cream the next day. They celebrated some more and went to the park with the squad and they had a picnic.

It was better than he ever could've imagined.

While the sun was setting, they stood back on her balcony, where they first spoke all those months ago, slow dancing. He pulled away and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled at her as the orange light of the sunset shone on them. (So aesthetic)

“Thank you, Marinette, for everything,” he says as he rubs his thumb across her cheek. His hand holding her face. She puts her hand over his and closes her eyes, savouring the moment.

She opened her eyes again and smiled, “I’d do it again and more, if it meant I’d get to be with you,”

He started leaning down, “If I lost you, I’d fly all over the world just to find you again,”

She raised to her tip toes, faces millimetres from one another, blue bells meeting ice, “So it was all worth it in the end?”

He moves closer, eyes searching hers. “Definitely,” he breathes.

She closes the distance, and he picks her up and spins her around. They break apart and their laughter fills the air.

(now that’s enough fluff, allow me to drown you in angst)

The next day they stood on the Eiffel tower. She took his hand, “Let’s recap. I go in, we have our Hawkmoth meeting, then I ask if I can speak to Batman and Nightwing alone. Then I tell them I found you, then I give them – are you sure it’s necessary for me to give them your blood, hair and a cheek swab? Isn’t that overkill?” (Batman is serious about his no kill rule, but he’s also serious about his there’s no such thing as overkill rule)

He shook his head and she sighed, “Okay. Then I give him means to contact me and I come back. Now remember they might take a while to process and they won’t necessarily call immediately-,”

“What if they never call?” he asked, gripping her hand tightly.

She ran her finger softly through his hair, “Then you have us to help you get through it,”

He nodded, she kissed his cheek and stepped through the portal with Queen Bee, Chat Noir and Viperion. He and Ryuuko stayed behind as backup, he wielded the Fox miraculous these days, but kept the name Blackback, always wearing a black leather jacket no matter the transformation.

He and Ryuko discussed fighting styles, she was kindly trying to distract him, and if it had been anything else he needed distracting from, it would’ve worked.

So passed the slowest forty-five minutes of his life. Chat Noir and Queen Bee exit a portal and so the wait for Marinette and Luka began.

She and Bruce were talking now. Bruce would know he was alive. This was make or break for him. Luka was nearby to act as back up worst-case scenario.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, followed by someone taking and rubbing circles on his back. He looked down to see Ryuuko on his one side and saw Chat Noir on his other.

“We’ve got you,” Chloe said standing in front of him, hand on his unoccupied shoulder.

He swallowed and nodded. She squeezed his upper arm and met his gaze, “Breathe, you’re safe, honey,”

So, 30 more minutes pass. They sit down and somewhere along the line Chat goes and grabs a dozen croissants from the bakery.

In another situation he might’ve laughed. He’d baked this morning’s batch and now he got to eat some of it for free, of course, technically he could get others for free too but-

The portal opened behind them and Ladybug and Viperion stepped out. He noted that she didn’t have the bag of his DNA with her anymore.

She smiled softly at him, “Now we wait,”

And wait they did.

They waited two weeks.

And then the burner phone that's number they'd given Bruce rang.

Jason froze, Marinette jumped up and ran to get it.

He couldn't move as she walked over and put the phone on speaker, she grabbed his hand and he held onto her for dear life.

"We can both hear you now, Nightwing," she said.

There was a beat of silence on the other side of the line, "Can he- If you're- can I speak to him? In- um- private?"

Marinette looked at him, and he nodded. She took the phone off speaker and handed it to him.

He held it up to his ear and squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the circles Marinette were drawing on his hand with her thumb.

"He- hey Dick," he said. He heard his brother's breathing hitch, followed by a few seconds of silence.

"When did Batman find you?"

"25th May 2017,"

"Who's your favourite author?"

"Mary Shelley tied with Jane Austin,” he replied.

Dick stayed silent for too long and before he could stop himself the words fell from his mouth, desperation clinging to each syllable,” My favourite- my favourite playwright is Shakespeare, and my favourite school subject is English. If I could pick any day job it would be being a writer. My favourite colour is blue. Alfred has a secret fear of dolphins. You have had a ridiculously huge crush on Barbara for years and she had no idea, and I found a picture you drew under your old room's bedside table of you two getting married. I folded the picture up and hid it in a small box of memories I kept in the farthest corner of my closet under clothes I never wore. I have a round scar on the lower left side of my back where Willis Todd burned me with a cigarette when I was 5 that you don’t know I know you know about. My first Christmas at the manor you found me in the rose garden cutting a few off to take to my mother's grave and I was terrified that you would yell at me but instead you drove me to the graveyard and that was the day I decided to give you a real chance. I despise carrots but I eat them when Alfred makes them because I don't want to be a burden. And I-," he choked on a sob- when had he started crying?

He took a shuddering breath, and swallowed some of his tears, trying to make sure the words got out right, "I've missed you guys for every single second that I've been gone,"

His stomach tied itself up in a million knots as the silence stretched on. He could hear Dick moving the phone.

"Can I speak to Ladybug again please?" A female voice he didn't recognize said.

He handed the phone to Marinette and pressed his hand over his mouth to try to contain the sobs. He felt like a knife was twisting his stomach. He couldn't even hear what Marinette was saying. (I’m going through something irl and as a result u guys get to read angst by the bucketloads and I regret nothing)

Dick didn't want to talk to him. He should've just answered the question, he shouldn't have given all the extra information. Now they were never going to believe that it's really him and he would never see them again. Maybe they knew it was him and they just didn't want him-

"Jason, breathe with me," he heard Marinette's voice. His eyes latched onto hers like a lifeline, he became aware of her hands holding his.

She took his face in her hands and rested her forehead against his, in a motion so familiar that it came as easy as breathing. Well as easy as it usually was to breathe, right now excluded.

After he calmed down, she explained to him what they discussed. They would go to Gotham and meet and discuss things from there.

They wanted to meet him, but they still didn’t completely believe that it was him. He knew this for a fact because they had organized for M’gann to be there to confirm what he was saying. (Yassss M'gann my darling girl, I adore out lil Martian)

Marinette had suggested that they meet in the Batcave in an hour. Everyone had agreed. He assumed she had a plan as to why she wanted to wait. And he trusted her, so he waited for her to explain.

“I want to take the team, as backup. If you’re not comfortable with it, I want to at least take Luka. I would suggest just letting one of us wield is miraculous, but his Second Chance Timer limit is an hour so it would be most beneficial,” she said, gesturing with the hand that wasn’t holding his.

He nodded, sitting up straighter, but not releasing his grip on her hand, “We can bring the team, it’s smart to have backup. Besides if things go haywire, we have Luka to stop us.”

“Then let’s go get our team, love,”

(oh, I should probably mention that only he and LB knows everyone’s Identities. Or well rather no one knows like officially. Like everyone lowkey knows everyone's and a few of them have officially revealed themselves to each other, but not everyone is officially revealed to everyone and Mari and Jason are the only ones who aren’t officially revealed to anyone else, it’s kinda like the vibes of knowing your best friend is queer but not saying anything because they haven’t officially come out yet but like you know because they ain’t nearly as subtle as they think. Like that aesthetic.)

Anyway, 50 minutes later, they’re all gathered on the Eiffel Tower. Jason saw Marinette give Luka a nod to reset his timer. Suddenly he was enveloped in a light with a scratch that wasn’t there a few seconds before on his cheek, his expression quite annoyed.

Marinette immediately furrowed her brows, “How many times?”

Viperion shook his head, “Don’t worry, only one so far, but they try to restrain us. We’re gonna have to try plan b this time,” Everyone nodded, they waited two minutes before the agreed upon time and Mari opened a portal, but instead of appearing out in the opened, they hid in the shadowy parts of the cave.

Jason used his illusion to hide them from any observant eyes and they spread out a bit. He and Mari stayed together, Cloe flew to get a higher perspective and hide Viperion on one of the cave’s many ledges while Chat just moved a few feet away to have a slightly different hiding spot. Kagami dropped into her wind form and was flying above them to eavesdrop, she’d go to Luka if she heard anything of importance so he could go restart again.

They’d be one step ahead of the Bats no matter what they pulled, after all, they had all the time in the world.

They watched them all get into position as time neared. Jason didn’t know all the kids but recognized them from the news.

Dick, Bruce and M’gann stood near the bat computer with Barbara – who was in a wheelchair but that was a realization to deal with later- and Alfred.

The minute they were supposed to appear Jason cast another illusion to make it appear as though they had arrived. As expected, weapons and restraints immediately swarmed on them, each kid going for a different miraculous member. Too bad the images turned into orange dust as soon as they touched them.

The tiny one in the Robin uniform was red in the face and immediately started throwing a tantrum, “Father! They’ve tricked us-,”

Before he could get another word out, Chloe mass-venomed the horde of kids that we’re sent to attack them. He counted Black bat, Red Robin, Batgirl, Signal and Robin. They were all frozen in the middle of the room and before the others near the computer could move, Kagami trapped them in a (rather large) ring of fire. They had enough space to move around comfortably but if they tried approaching the edge the flames would grow larger.

Batman growled and his eyes searched through the cave, but he wouldn’t see them, no matter how hard he searched.

Jason stared at them. Dick was also searching the cave, but he seemed to look more hopeful than angry. Alfred seemed his usual calm self and Barbara was glancing around the cave more subtly. He didn’t bother looking at the rest of the batkids because M’gann was staring right at him, staying right where she was despite her ability to fly.

“Hi, Jason,” she softly spoke into his mind, he felt emotion overwhelm him, she’d known him before everything, and she knew it was him and it was a lot.

He knew she wasn’t probing around his brain for information like he was sure Bruce had asked her to, she didn’t have to, she knew it was him.

“Can you please tell me why we’re surrounded by fire?” she asked.

“We have a time traveller,” he replied.

“Ah, not a fan of Bruce’s restrain and question method, then? Can’t say I blame you, though I do think you’ve proven your point,”

“You really think it’s a good idea to release all of them?” he asked sceptically.

“… Good point. Maybe leave the brood in the middle in whatever frozen state they’re in and just let us in the fire out. They really just think it’s too good to be true… Jason, I won’t let them hurt you,”

“Okay,” he agreed softly. He turned to Marinette and gave her a slight nod. She returned with one of her own.

They walked over to Kagami’s ring of fire and he held their illusion until they were right in front of it. He held on to it for a bit to make sure everyone else would be able to stay in position. Chloe would keep the cavalry venomized and Chat and Viperion would stick to the shadows, unless necessary.

Jason dropped the illusion and watched four heads snap to him. M'gann simply gave him a soft smile and a nod of encouragement.

Kagami moved herself to stand next to Marinette and turned back into her human form, glaring at them with a silent warning.

Their attention was elsewhere, though. For a long time they just stood there and stared at one another in silence. They studied every part of one another they could see.

His eyes caught on Barbara’s wheelchair and he felt ready to destroy whatever put her there. She met his eyes and he held her gaze. She must’ve seen something there because she gave a small smile as she allowed a few tears to escape her eyes.

“Miss Martian?” Batman broke the silence like a cheap dinner plate, shattering it in a matter of seconds.

“It’s him,” M’gann answered without a hint of hesitation.

It was Alfred that moved first. He took a few hesitant steps towards him and before Jason knew it the man was in front of him. Alfred reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, desperately studying him for a moment before pulling him into a hug only Alfred could give.

It took Jason a moment to respond but when he did he returned it wholeheartedly.

After a few minutes they pulled apart and it took him a moment to realize that they’d both started crying. When he looked up Dick was only a few feet away. The moment Alfred stepped away Dick pulled him close.

“I thought you were dead, kid. I thought I’d never see you again, I thought I lost even more family. You were too young, too innocent. Fuck Jason,” Dick whispered, tightening his grip, “I’m so glad you’re alive,”

Jason held on to his brother and that night they cried about terrible endings and broken beginnings. They cried about lost time and found family.

It wasn’t the end yet, Hawkmoth was still terrorizing Paris and he had no idea what Bruce thought yet. There were all his other kids, his brothers and sisters. There were his teammates and the incredible story of how he’d been turned into a bee of all things.

They had a lot of catching up to do.

But just for a moment, a strand of a singular moment, he had his brother in his arms again and he was back home. His first real home.

Things weren’t perfect, as things rarely are but it didn’t matter. Because part of the beauty of life is how it builds and breaks us in a cycle of love and loss.

And that night they laughed with a lightness and joy none of them had fully been able to hold onto in years.

 I hope you guys enjoyed!

This is lowkey totally gonna be the au I go to when I don’t know what to write lol, maybe write a bit of what happens afterwards or a part of everything during the year he lived with Mari them or just y’know shenanigans

[readersguidetotheuniverse]

Book to screen: The Umbrella Academy

It is usually said that books are better than their cinema or TV adaptations. Details missing, changes in the plot, characters are changed or are just not there... If you really love the book chances are you will be disappointed by its adaptation. 

This may be true in most cases, but not this one. While The Umbrella Academy comics are original, interesting and entertaining, the Netflix adaptation is certainly a hit. Not only it is pretty accurate compared to the comics, they took it further and gave us more plot and more depth of the characters. 

You are probably more familiar with the TV show than with the comics, anyway. So was I. But I liked it so much I decided to give the comics a chance. There are three volumes of The Umbrella Academy comics, and I’m pretty sure there are more on the way. And, of course, there are differences between them. 

If you are curious about the differences between the comics and the show or you want to read the comics and want to know what to expect, keep reading. If you haven't seen the show, though, be careful, you may find spoilers. 

First, and what surprised me the most, season 1 of The Umbrella Academy is not the adaptation of just volume one, it is actually a mix of the first two volumes. The comics are actually quite short and they go straight to the action, so just one volume would not be enough for a whole season as it is. As far as I can tell, those are the only volumes they used to create the show, I have seen no reference to volume three so far. 

Actually, when I started reading I was quite confused because, having watched the show, there were just too many things missing. It took me reading the second volume to understand that half the plot of season one actually comes from volume two. For example, Chi Chi and Hazel are pretty important characters in the show but they do not appear until the second volume in the comics (and still they do not last long in it). For this reason I think it would make more sense to read the comics before watching the show and not the other way, like I did. Everything will just make more sense. 

Another thing that surprised me was how the characters are portrayed. The main characters are mostly the same in terms of personality, but the physical appearance does change a lot from the comics to the show (maybe Luther is the exception). Also in the show you get to see them interact a lot with one another. That doesn't really happen in the comics. For example, Vanya becomes a villain in the comics pretty early on in the first volume so you don't really get to know her or see her interact with her family like you do on the show. 

Ben is also mentioned but doesn't really appear until volume three (just barely), while in the show he's present in most of the episodes thanks to Klaus. I love Ben so that was a bit of a letdown. Also, now that I mention Klaus, I think the Klaus from the TV is so much better. The Klaus from the comics is darker and not nearly as interesting. The Klaus from the show is so funny and captivating and extravagant, he really is one of the best parts of the show. Though I may not be entirely objective, I do have a soft spot for Robert Sheehan.  

In terms of the plot, while most adaptations usually leave things out, this one actually gives us more context and more depth. The story in the comics is a bit too rushed in my opinion and there's just so much going on that it's a bit confusing at times, especially considering the plot in the comics is a bit weirder (the Eiffel Tower actually being a spaceship kind of weirder). The show fixes that, connecting the dots and giving us more backstory but, at the same time, keeping many details from the comics that are just delightful to see. 

Personally I prefer the show over the comics. The adaptation gives it a more realistic tone that is sometimes hard to find in graphic novels. But if you like the story and/or the characters give the comics a chance, you may enjoy them a lot too. Now, what to expect from season 2? I actually have no idea. Based on the trailers, it seems that this season is going to be mostly inspired by volume 2. However, many elements of it were already used in season 1 so I am not sure what they are going to do. If you've seen season 1 and want to read the comics, go ahead. You probably won't see any spoilers. If you haven’t seen the show yet and want to read the comics before doing so, please do. You will probably enjoy both a lot.

[miracul0us-multishipper]

Lady Wifi (part 1)

Marillion AU

“Come on...”, Marillion whispered into the glowing outline in front of her. “You can do it! You've practiced the entire morning, you've got this!”

“But they're all looking at me!”, her champion - The Magician, an amateur entertainer with stage fright from Mendeleiev's class - whispered back. After failing at a simple trick this morning her brooch had alarmed her of his distress, and since she couldn’t focus until it was resolved she had akumatized him. It was supposed to be quicker than talking to him as Marinette, but her lacking experience with a miraculous showed: she'd had to spend almost half an hour convincing him that letting out his frustration on the Eiffel Tower wouldn’t help him. Now, instead of making Paris' most famous monument disappear, he was trying to impress children at the Trocadero. Not the greatest challenge with his new magical powers, but that wasn’t the point.

“It doesn’t matter.”, she calmed him. “You can’t fail! You are using real magic now, they'll be so amazed they won’t even know you’re nervous.”

“But it won’t be forever! And then I’ll just do regular card tricks, and probably ruin it again.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But in my experience, when you’re feeling scared you're twice as likely to make a mistake! I'm just helping you to get some experience with crowds, so that you'll feel surer next time. Some positive feedback is always good to lift a creative block.”

She always went to her parents when she couldn’t finish a design. Their genuine awe and pride of her abilities never failed to get her back on her feet. But since the Magician didn’t want to call his parents, the job to encourage him fell to her.

“Okay... I... I'll try!”

He stepped forward and took off his cylinder, ready to create a cloud of white butterflies. The kids cooed and awed, and the Magician smiled hesitantly. Marillion gave him a thumbs-up from her hiding place on the roofs.

It went flawless, after that. He made little lights and clouds of colorful smoke, more butterflies and even made himself dis- and reappear a few times. The children were utterly fascinated and their laughter and applause warmed her heart. And her champion's as well: soon the clouds of butterflies were joined by a freshly purified akuma and the Magician transformed back into a carefree, laughing boy.

“See?”, she said to no one. The link to her champion had gone vacant when he had detransformed. With a last smile towards her freed akuma she turned around and vanished with a swirl of her tailcoat.

This had been a great morning after all.

-

“This is a horrible morning!”, Alya complained to Tikki. Not only had she failed to identify her nemesis via a cutout of Marillion, she had even been caught by Bustier! And Marinette wasn't here to distract her!

“Well, I did tell you to focus on your lessons.”, her cherished but unbearably goody-two-shoes friend replied. “Besides, it’s impossible to recognize the wielder of a miraculous. Your masks are magical, remember?”

“It was worth a try.”, she shrugged. “And hey, its not like you’re the one who has to focus for two hours on the most boring subject there is. Oh! Rose, Juleka! Have you seen Marinette?”

Tikki hurried to hide in her bag while her classmates shook their heads and she moved on.

“Where is that girl?”

“She said she didn’t feel well. Maybe she went home?”

“But she left her bag here!”

Tikki raised an eyebrow - or at least the skin where her eyebrows would be, if she had any.

“Because your friend never forgets anything, right?”

Good point. She loved her BFF, but Marinette sure was a mess.

“I‘ll look at her locker. If she's not there I'll just bring her bag over to her home.”

Any excuse to go by the Dupain-Cheng Patisserie was fine with her. The croissants were incredible, and Tikki barely ate anything except their delicious macarons. In her mind she was already sinking her teeth in the artwork of a pastry when a ruffling sound stopped her. Was that... Chloé?

Indeed. The blonde b... beast was hurriedly packing something into that overly expensive handbag of her, and she looked very keen on not being watched. Alya's eyes narrowed and she hid behind a corner. Suspicious!

Her spying- observing turned out to be worth it. Thanks to her infallible intuition and sixth sense as superhero, she was able to witness it: Chloé Bourgeois, heiress to the mayor of Paris and his empire of hotels, meanest little brat under the sun... pulled a purple mask out of her locker. A butterfly shaped mask. And ribbons that matched Marillion's.

The bell rang and startled Alya out of her stupor. She quickly disappeared into the yard before Chloé - Marillion! - could spot her.

“Did you see that?”, she hissed to her Kwami, still not believing her luck. “Oh my god, Tikki! Did you see that?”

“I... uh, I did? But Alya-“

“This is Perfect, with a capital P!”, she cackled. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell everyone! By tomorrow I'll have thwarted my nemesis AND the school bully. Admit it, I’m the best superhero you ever had, right? It hasn’t even been a week since Stoneheart!”

Tikki struggled to keep up.

“Alya, you know I believe in you and your great potential, but I really doubt that-“

“I'll have to prepare my article for the Ladyblog! This is gonna be the scoop of the century, Tikki!”

“Maybe we shouldn’t rush-“

“This spoiled little brat really thought she'd get away with it, huh? Thought that just 'cause she's pretty in purple I’ll have mercy? Well, think again, Marillion! Now that I know who she really is, I suddenly don’t find her attractive in the slightest!”

“Wait, you think Marillion is attractive? Why didn’t you say anything-“

“I don’t! Not anymore, at least, and even if she weren’t Chloé... She isn’t that pretty. Villainy is not her color. Oh! I gotta remember that line for when I confront her. It could be my new catchphrase.”

“Alya!”, Tikki called out with more volume than should be possible for her tiny body. Immediately her chosen fell quiet. “Alya, please think this through! We don’t have any proof of Chloé being Marillion. And her suit is created by the miraculous! Why would Marillion carry her mask around if she can make it appear with a few magic words?”

Alya scoffed.

“You don’t know her. Chloé has an Ego that thwarts the Eiffel Tower, she'd totally be the type to wear her own merch. Besides, no one ever said supervillains were smart, hm?”

“But Marillion saved Chloé, don’t you remember? When Stoneheart dropped her. They can’t be the same person, we’ve seen them together!”

“Well...” This time Alya actually paused, but soon waved it off. “Don’t you think that’s weird? First Marillion causes her to fall, then she catches her... sounds a little staged to me. She totally did that to deceive us! She's got the means, her miraculous is really op.”

“But-“

“Nah-ah. You can’t apply logic where Chloé - or magic! - is involved. But if you insist on a second opinion, I'll go and tell Nino! Oh, and I'll leave a message for Marinette.”

Tikki sighed deeply as her chosen talked on. She loved Alya with all her heart, but sometimes her creativity expressed itself in ways that weren’t always... productive. This was going to be exhausting.

-

“Did he just... die?”, Marinette asked, baffled by that utterly random turn of events. What a ridiculous ending!

Nooroo didn’t answer, instead he desperately shoved popcorn into his little mouth.

“Hey, are you crying?”, she gasped and moved to grab the tissues. Stubborn her Kwami shook his head, despite the obvious tears that ran down his little cheek.

“Oh, honey!”, Marinette tried to comfort him. “It's just a movie. They're okay in reality, I promise!”

“'M not shad!”, he insisted, the words muffled by the sugary popcorn in his mouth. “I kno' they're oh-righ.”

He hiccuped and hurried to take the tissue she offered, blowing his nose. His voice a little clearer now, he swallowed and rubbed his eyes.

“It's just that... he wanted to be better, didn’t he? He wanted to be good! And then, when he finally did it, he... he...”

Oh. Maybe this movie had been a bad idea after all.

“He was good now.”, she assured him. “And he was happy! For... a moment.”

Admittedly, that was a weak argument. Gosh, time to distract him.

“Maybe we should watch Pride and Prejudice next? No bad endings, I swear! Plus, the dynamic is really similar and I'm sure you'll adore Keira Knightley!”

Nooroo sniffled and looked up at her.

“Are you sure? It's almost four o’clock in the morning.”

“What?!”

A panicked glance at her phone confirmed Nooroo's statement and she all but hauled herself up the ladder to her bed.

“I’ve got school tomorrow!”, she wailed and frantically tucked herself in. “That means I'll have to get up in three hours! That means I won’t get enough sleep! That means I’ll have bags under my eyes and yawn like a hippo just when Adrien looks at me! Alya is going to think I’m a freak who stays up all night like a vampire! This is a disaster!”

“Uhm... are you sure that's going to happen?”

“With my luck? Definitely.”

-

Contrary to her fears, she did not wake up dead tired and embarrassed herself in front of everyone. No, she didn’t wake up at all!

Until Nooroo gently nudged her shoulder, that is, to inform her that they had overslept.

“Noooo! No, no, no!”, she all but cried as she shoved her homework into her bag and got dressed. “Damn Disney for making this many movies!”

“Marinette, you lost something!”

Eagerly Nooroo caught the note that had fallen out of her bag and gave it to her.

“It's from Alya!”, she realized and her eyes widened. “What?! She found out who the real Marillion is?”

Her Kwami gasped.

“Oh no!”

“We gotta hurry! Before she tells anyone!”

-

“I'm telling you, she is Marillion!”, Alya insisted and pointed at Chloé. “So what if I took a measly photo of her locker? She's a supervillain! You have to search her for her miraculous!”

Monsieur Damocles cleared his throat.

“Mademoiselle Césaire, I understand if you feel embarrassed, but that’s no reason to make such accusations. Please don’t aggravate your situation.”

“Aggravate her situation? She broke into my locker!”, Chloé - that little monster - complained. “How can it get worse than that?”

M. Damocles blinked.

“She, uhm, is kind of accusing you of terrorism?”

“What, because she called me Marillion? That’s a compliment, though not one I want to her from the likes of her. But what about my locker?! Suspend her already!”

The headmaster sighed deeply. He wasn’t paid enough to deal with these kids.

“A week of suspension, and now out of my office.”

“WHAT?!”

-

When Marinette entered the class, she was prepared for betrayed looks and roared accusations. Instead, everything was silent as Bustier wrote something on the blackboard. And Alya was missing.

Nervously she tapped Nino on the shoulder.

“Where is she?”, she whispered and nodded to Alya's vacated seat. Nino shook his head. “She got into a fight with the Principal because she thinks Chloé is Marillion. She's even been suspended!”

“What?!”, she yelled, but she wasn’t the only one. Adrien had been surprised as well.

After Bustier rebuked her for the disruption, Adrien leaned over to Nino as well.

“What do you mean, Chloé is Marillion?”

“That’s what Alya thinks. Crazy, huh? Not that I wouldn’t suspect Chloé of being a supervillain, but... yeah, it doesn’t make any sense.”

“That's horrible!”, Marinette murmured, masking her relief that her secret was safe. Poor Alya! “We've got to do- Ah!”

With no warning a wave of hot red anger crashed into her, searing through her brooch. She barely noticed Madame Bustier sending her to the Principal, she was already on her way out and running towards the bathroom.

“Marinette!”, Nooroo worried as she gasped in air and waited for it to pass. “Oh, this is bad. The closer your bond to a person, the stronger you feel their emotions!”

“Don’t worry about me.”, she said, the pain already receding. “Worry about Alya! She must be so hurt and we've got to help-“

She fell silent all of a sudden. Nooroo paused.

“Marinette? What happened?”

She shook her head, confused.

“It... stopped.”

Her eyes widened.

“I can’t feel her anymore.”

- - -

Any guesses what movie they watched? ;)

[authenticcadence18]

Ladynoir July Day 12: Falling

Ever since she became the Guardian, Marinette has been having nightmares about falling. Eventually, these nightmares start affecting her while she's awake, and she is hesitant to even use her yo-yo...because what if she falls again? What if the dreams become real?

(Fortunately for Ladybug, she has an amazing partner who might know just what to say to help her face her fears.)

@ladynoirjuly2020

AO3

...

The sensation of falling shouldn’t have twisted Marinette’s gut the way it did.

Not after all the hours she’d spent soaring up and down throughout Paris with the aid of her yo-yo without so much as a second thought as to how far down she was swinging.

Things were different now, though.

...

When Marinette was little, she often dreamt of falling. One minute, she’d be happily skipping along, and the next, her foot connected with air and she was tumbling down, down down….until she woke up.

Once Marinette became Ladybug, however, the dreams stopped! Wielding a miraculous meant soaring, tumbling, and freewheeling through the sky on a pretty regular basis...and Marinette (or her subconscious, at least) realized that falling wasn’t nearly as scary when she knew she’d be able to catch herself.

Marinette still had stress dreams, of course. They were practically a staple of her life. But not about falling anymore.

And then she became the Guardian.

The night after Ladybug and Chat Noir’s battle with Miracle Queen, Marinette fell into a restless sleep and a restless dream…

She was walking through Paris while holding the Miraculous Box. It was so heavy, almost too much to carry. Gradually, the box grew bigger and bigger, until Marinette found herself tripping and stumbling into one of its looming black spots.

She was falling again. Unable to scream, unable to think, unable to save herself.

Marinette finally woke up with a start, heart pounding and breath coming in short gasps.

The dreams were back. and they were worse than ever.

Before, the falling dreams were vague. Falling off a pathway while walking to the pool, tripping over a crack in the sidewalk and then catching herself….those dreams were stressful, of course, but they were normal. Lots of people had stress dreams like that.

But now, Marinette’s falling dreams were vivid.

She was Ladybug, and she didn’t have a yo-yo, or her yo-yo snapped, or an akuma carried her high into the air and dropped her....and she fell.

She was Marinette, and she couldn’t transform….and she fell.

She was trapped and could only watch as Chat Noir lost his balance or his baton and fell from the Eiffel Tower...feeling the horrible, agonizing feeling of falling with him as he plummeted down an infinite distance below, even though she was stuck in place herself.

...it was getting to the point that Marinette no longer wanted to sleep at all...Tikki had to coax her to shut her eyes each night. And she’d grown to dread using her yo-yo...what if any perceived reality was another dream? All of her dreams felt so real.

What if she was about to fall again?

...

“Hey, Ladybug? You okay?”

Ladybug blinked and shook her head, rooting herself back in the moment.

She was on patrol with Chat Noir. They were standing on the sidewalk. About to vault and swing up onto the roof of a building.

...she realized she’d been afraid to make the leap. Because if she went up...that meant she had to come down eventually.

“Uhh, I’m fine!!!” Ladybug replied, forcing herself to smile at her partner. “Just, uh...trying to figure out the best way up, that’s all!!!”

This WASN’T a dream. It was real. She was perfectly safe.

….but what if it WAS a dream?

Or what if today was the day her dreams became reality and her yo-yo failed her??

“M’lady? Hey, are you sure you’re alright?”

Ladybug blinked the fog of panic from her eyes and found Chat gazing at her, brows creased with concern. He cocked his head at her before placing a hand against her forehead.

“You aren’t getting sick, are you?”

Ladybug couldn’t help but smile at that, even if it was a half-hearted smile. “No, Chat Noir, I’m not sick. And even if I WAS getting sick...would you even be able to feel my temperature through your suit?”

Chat paused for a second to consider that.

“....alright...you might have a point there...” he chuckled.

“But, Ladybug, sick or not, you still don’t seem like yourself...is everything okay?”

Ladybug steeled herself and prepared to state that she was fine, that everything was just dandy...but one look at Chat stole those words away.

She couldn’t lie to him. She didn’t WANT to lie to him.

If anyone could understand what she was going through...it was Chat.

“....no...not really….”

...

“When I was little, I used to have nightmares about falling...you know those dreams?”

“Oh man, do I ever… I don’t have them much anymore, though.”

Ladybug and Chat Noir had decided to cut patrol short that day. Now, they were seated on a bench tucked in a corner of one of Paris’s smaller parks. Not many people frequented said park, which made it the perfect place for the two heroes to talk without being disturbed (and without having to leave the ground).

“The dreams stopped once I became Ladybug, which was amazing…” Ladybug’s voice trailed off.

Chat cocked his head at her. “...I heard a ‘was’ in that statement...have the dreams started up again?” he asked gently.

Ladybug nodded, biting her lip. “Ever since I became the Guardian…” she whispered. “Almost every night, I dream that my yo-yo breaks, or I lose my balance, or an akuma knocks me down, or YOU get knocked down...and all the dreams end the same way. With falling. Horrible, endless falling.”

She lifted her yo-yo, examined it, and winced. “Everytime I have to use my yo-yo, now, I’m afraid that I’m inside another dream and that I’m about to fall, or that my dreams are about to become real and I am about to FALL for real. I know it’s silly, but….” She squeezed her eyes shut as a few wayward tears trickled down her cheeks. “How can I be a good Guardian if some stress dreams are freaking me out so badly?”

“Hey, listen to me,” Chat said softly, taking Ladybug’s hand and gazing at her with compassion in his eyes. “It is NOT silly to be freaked out by stress dreams. I have nightmares too, sometimes. Not about falling, though...they’re usually about being trapped somewhere with no way out.”

Ladybug’s heart dropped. “Oh, Chat, that’s awful...I’m so sorry….”

Chat gave her hand a squeeze and replied, “Thanks, m’lady. My nightmares are definitely awful, but I know whenever I wake up feeling trapped, I can become Chat Noir and feel free again. It keeps them from being too bad.”

Ladybug sighed, happy for her partner but unsure how her own problem could be solved. “That’s wonderful for you, Chat, really...but I don’t exactly have that luxury. Being Ladybug doesn’t help with my nightmares anymore...if anything, it’s making them worse now…”

Chat pursed his lips in thought, trying to come up with a solution for his lady. “Well, whenever I wake up from a nightmare, I remind myself of what I know to be true: that I am Chat Noir and I am capable of freeing myself. We just need to come up with a truth you can tell yourself whenever you wake up from a bad dream.”

He thought for a few more seconds, and then his eyes lit up.

“Whenever you fall, I’ll be there to catch you!” he exclaimed. “That’s it!! That’s what you can tell yourself: if I ever fall, Chat Noir will be there to catch me.”

He squeezed her hand again and gave her a gentle look. “And I don’t just mean that in the literal sense...I’m here for you no matter what, Ladybug. If you feel stressed out, if the responsibilities of being the Guardian become too much to bear...I’ll be there for you. I’m always here for you.”

Ladybug’s face flushed crimson, and for the first time in a while, her spiking pulse could be attributed to something other than fear.

“Plus, I have a friend at school who trips allll the time, and I’ve gotten pretty good at catching her,” Chat added on with a cheeky grin. “I’ve had PLENTY of practice, I promise!!”

Ladybug buried her face in her hands to smother a laugh (and maybe also to hide her blush). “I think that friend of yours might be my secret twin,” she giggled. “I like to think I have a special talent for tripping over stuff.”

“Secret twin, eh?” Chat mused, examining Ladybug’s face and imagining Marinette in his mind. “You know, she COULD be your secret twin…you kind of look like her...”

He furrowed his brows for a moment...and then he remembered Multimouse.

Never mind.

“Hey, thanks for cheering me up, Chat Noir!!” Ladybug said, leaning in to give him a hug. “And thanks for the reminder that you’re always there for me...I really appreciate you…”

Chat smiled warmly as he nuzzled into a hug. “Anytime, bug.”

...

Marinette dreamed of falling again that night.

But this time, as she plummeted down into the void, she remembered her conversation with Chat.

Chat Noir will always be there to catch me.

And then he was there, cradling her in his arms, whispering encouraging words in her ear, and kissing her on the forehead.

...WAIT.

Marinette jolted awake from this dream, just as she did with all the nightmares she’d been plagued with.

But this time, instead of shaking with fear, she was covering her burning face with her hands and trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

...she supposed it was an improvement.  

...

I'm writing some one-shots for Ladynoir July! What days will I write for? How many fics will I be able to finish?

...only Ahtohallan knows.

(also THANK YOU @youruinedmylifebynotbeingreal FOR BEING MY BETA!!! forgive me for forgetting to tag you at first😭😭)

[multibug]

3: flowers (ladrien)

AO3

The florist closes in ten, Adrien’s just under twelve minutes away and the Gorilla is currently doing 112 kmh through the bustling streets of Paris to get him there before the store locks.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thinks to himself, window rolled down and his head sticking out the window a bit unsafely. 

The Gorilla glances at him through the rear-view mirror and grunts. 

Adrien knows he means business from the tone of it and settles into cushioned seat of the Mercedes-Benz. He rests his folded arms over the soft flap of the window, chin atop them. 

Paris flutters by in its pristine glory, shops upon shops, bakeries upon bakeries, people upon people. Lots of people that Adrien studies casually as he taps his fingers idly against the warm metal of the car. 

An orange-pink sky is slowly being tinkered away by midnight blue, a waning crescent tickling the edges of the sun out of view. Lingering remnants of summer and warm fill the air, clinging to his skin, his face, the interior leather seats, even the flaps on the window.

17:55 the clock reads, tick tick tick edging into Adrien’s anxiety like a knife. 

He knows the Gorilla can’t drive faster. He understands that it’s his fault for taking his sweet time dressing and undressing in different outfits. Plagg reminds him of it with a small snicker that’s not heard to his bodyguard. 

Max has told him time and time again that statistically speaking, the better chance he has of woo’ing a potential partner is to show he cares. Now he wonders whether his messily slicked-back hair, white button-up tucked into navy shorts and birkenstocks is overkill. 

Too late to go back and change, so Adrien rolls with it, plucking a loose strand of hair off his forehead before leaving it with a pout. ‘No matter how much gel I put in it, that piece always lets gravity win.” 

His comment pulls an unusual grin out of the Gorilla. 

17:59 and the Gorilla is skidding to a stop, Adrien hauling his ass out of the car and into the aesthetically-pleasing flower shop. Flowers upon flowers, beautifully-colored ones that are vibrant against the shops dark paneling fill his vision. 

It’s overwhelming and his brain hurts from overstimulation. 

An elder florist dressed in a light and airy skirt turns the corner and shocks Adrien enough for him to nearly fall over, steadying himself on the counter closest to him. It’s filled with bright colored peonies and hydrangeas he almost knocks off, fumbling to catch the beautifully arranged assortments. 

“You look lost,” the florist quips with a hint of amusement on her otherwise stoic face. 

“I am in desperate need of help,” Adrien replies, eyes wide as he scans the excessive amount of flowers and arrangements and it’s all too much oh my god. 

Said florist tilts her head to the side, tapping a patient foot on the ground. “Are you looking to send threatening flowers? Because that’s not really my thing,” she pauses, leaning in with twinkling eyes. “If you pay me a little extra, though…” 

“No, oh god no, it’s just—It’s a special day for this girl I really care about and I want to show her how much I care, if that makes sense.” Shuffingly awkwardly in place, Adrien’s hands twist into one another to stop himself from touching his neck. “I don’t want to go overboard either, even though I think she deserves every flower in this shop.” 

“If you’re not careful enough, you might accidentally send her threatening flowers with that mindset,” Agnés—her name tag reads as she approaches him—tells him with slanted eyebrows. “Alright, lover boy. I’ve got you covered.” 

  Please still be here, please still be here, please—

Oh dieu merci, Adrien thinks as he slows his breathing from running across the Champ de Mars. Decorations scatter around the vicinity, Ladybug and Chat Noir themed merchandise lining the park in mobile kiosks. Balloons with their faces being held by small, crying children with overjoyous parents. 

Heroes’ Day is a time of celebration, filled with joy and love and happiness that warms Adrien to the brim. Him and Ladybug, plus all of the temporary miraculous holders, share in festivities that reminds the population of Paris that their savours are still human, like them. 

The extra time spent with Ladybug each year is an added bonus. 

Adrien left the celebrations a little early to find the Gorilla, grab his flower for Ladybug, and take off into a sprint across the grassed field behind tour Eiffel to catch her before she left. 

Ladybug rounds the corner after signing a civilian’s signature book, clearly ready to leave, when Adrien calls her name loud enough for her to hear him. “Ladybug!” 

They practically bump into each other as they both try to round the corner synchronously. Ladybug’s eyes widen as she takes note of him and his trajectory, digging her feet into the ground to stop the seemingly inevitable crash. 

It doesn’t happen. 

Before either of them can ram into one another, Adrien’s free hand lands on Ladybug’s shoulder and halts their movements, warmth flooding to his cheeks. 

His hands burn, his cheeks burn, his whole body burns now that he’s here. 

‘Adrien Agreste?” Her voice is stricken and slightly shrill, so unlike the Ladybug he knows and has come to love that he almost—keyword being almost—laughs. 

“H-Hi Ladybug,” he says, dumbly, cursing himself for acting so starstruck around her. Get ahold of yourself, idiot, this is your partner for crying-out-loud!

“Hello,” she replies a bit unsurely, her own cheeks matching her suit color. “Is everything okay?” 

No. You’re too pretty for me to think clearly. “Yes. I have something for you,” Adrien spits out, cringing internally at how blunt he is sometimes. “I wanted to get you something for Heroes’ Day—”

A smile grows on her face, a slow rise akin to a blooming flower. “That’s so sweet, Adrien! You really didn’t have to!” 

Shrugging his shoulders, the hand behind his back appears in front of him, showcasing his flower for her to see. 

It’s a red hibiscus with coral undertones, so vibrant in color it rivals that of her suit. The flower is encased in a small paper cup with intertwining colorful designs on it, soil and all. “I didn’t want to buy a pot for it because I wanted you to find one that suited your room, or something,” he trails off dumbly at the expression on her face, slightly panicking. “If you don’t like it, I can always get you another? I mean, the florist I went to doesn’t open until tomorrow, but—” 

“—Adrien,” Ladybug interrupts, her hand finding his bicep with a pretty smile on her face that has Adrien’s stomach soaring. “Please, it’s perfect. Don’t you take this flower away from me.” 

Adrien chokes at her words, eyes dipping to glance at her hand before they raise to meet hers, except—

She’s leaning in. 

Time stops. Adrien’s lucky his grip on the cup is tight as Ladybug’s soft, plump lips graze his cheek. Her lips touch the corner of his mouth and it sends shocks through his body as she takes the paper cup from him. “Thank you. This is one of the nicest gifts anyone’s ever gotten me.” 

“Am I dead?” His brain-to-mouth filter is gone, eyes widening in mortification at her giggle—the cutest giggle he’s ever heard.

“Not yet, no,” Ladybug tells him through her quiet laughs, blinking up at him through her eyelashes. “As much as I would love to stay and chat—”

Heh. Chat.

“—I must be going now. Thank you again for the flower, Adrien. It’s really lovely.” 

With a surge of confidence and determination, Adrien gently grabs one of Ladybug’s gloved hands in his. Lips graze over the top of her hand, across the ridge of her knuckle and the dip where her fingers meet her hand. “Get home safe,” he whispers, smiling stupidly at her. 

“I—I,” Ladybug stutters, her eyes wide and mouth ajar. “I’ve gotta go,” she squeaks out, quickly but carefully ripping her hand out of his and yo-yo’ing away. 

“You two are disgusting,” Plagg grumbles in Adrien’s shirt pocket, face-palming with his tiny hands.

(Later on, Marinette buys a pot and decorates it with her paints and keeps the flower tucked away in Tikki’s garden so it lives longer). 

((Tikki tells her to google the flower and Marinette has a near stroke when she realizes the symbolizing behind Adrien giving it to her)).

(((Ladybug shows up at Adrien’s house and kisses those same words into his mouth, forehead, and cheeks until he believes her))).

[nellied-reviews]

Super Energy Saver Mode Re-listen

Hellooooo! My Wolf 359 re-listen has hit episode 6, and guess what that means? Yup, you got it!

Super Energy Saver Mode

In which Eiffel struggles to name his top five lanthanides, Hilbert blows things up again, and the Hephaestus might be haunted?!

I'll confess, going into this episode I could not remember very much about it. The title felt familiar, I vaguely remembered that it was one of the episodes where something on the Hephaestus stops working, but other than that? Nothing. Zip. Zilch. So that was exciting.

And you know what? I can kind of see why I didn't retain much from this episode! Plot-wise Super Energy Saver Mode just doesn't do very much. There's not a complex solve or fix for the issues that come up, or a clever work-around. Instead, Minkowski and Eiffel just... figure everything out and fix it competently?

In retrospect, there is, of course, one big, plot-relevant, spoilery thing that happens. But even that is basically left unresolved by the episode’s ending, which aims to create a creepy atmosphere than anything else.

Because that is what this episode does well. Without the additional job of being plotty, Super Energy Saver Mode can just concentrate on being atmospheric. Coming into it pretty much blind, in particular, meant that I appreciated the tension baked into the episode - even once I remembered what was going on, I really enjoyed how spooky this episode felt.

As per usual, though, we don't start with the creepiness. Instead, we start with Eiffel chatting about something mundane - namely, the fact that it's the crew's 500th day in space!

It's something that I think, on any other show, wouldn't actually be all that mundane. There are a whole bunch of spacey series where I could imagine a pretty decent episode being built around the crew trying to host some sort of anniversary celebration. But here, 500 days isn't something to be celebrated. It's not a bad thing, per se. But it's not a good thing. It's just a thing, a reminder of how worn down the crew are at this point, and how many days they have left on the clock. We get the impression that this mission is more of a long, hard slog than anything else - and thus we're reminded again of how little Goddard cares about its employees' wellbeing and morale.

Eiffel and Hera are having an unofficial party, though, with just the two of them, which is sweet. In practice, of course, this just means that they're spending time chatting while Eiffel avoids work. But it's really cute, and I find the banter about top five lists and the various criteria that Hera uses to come up with them soooooo funny. I mean, Hera judges "Stick It to the Man" songs by active political regimes at the time of composition, and complexity of choral progression, which I love for reasons I can't quite pinpoint?

The sequence also shows how differently Hera and Eiffel think. Eiffel very immediately and intuitively forms an emotional connection to things like music, but can't even fathom how Hera just knows things like the 900th digit of pi, or all of the lanthanides. Hera, meanwhile, has so much more information and raw data at her metaphorical fingertips than Eiffel, but doesn't quite connect to it in the same way, and doesn’t entirely get how Eiffel does. It's not (like with the Dear Listeners) that she can't connect to music, or fundamentally doesn't get it. But she's working on a different scale, judging by different standards. And she's not embarrassed to mess with Eiffel because of it, or to talk about it with him. Really, it's a textbook example of how to hang out and be friends with somebody while still thinking and relating to the world differently - which I think is a large part of what I like about Eiffel and Hera's friendship.

Their fun little interaction gets interrupted, sadly, by Hilbert requesting extra power for his lab, which we can already tell will end badly, because come on, it's Hilbert. But what is interesting is how irritated Hera seems afterwards. I mean, she does the whole "I am not programmed to get upset" spiel, but nobody's buying it, and when she confesses that she doesn't like Hilbert's tone, there's definitely a lot of annoyance there. It reminds us, after seeing Hera's machine side, that she's still a person and still has emotions - a balance that Wolf 359 is generally pretty good at. Hera's allowed to be an AI, with the non-human worldview that that entails. But at the end of the day, she's still a character with emotional depth and nuance.

With that in mind, then, Hera admits that she doesn't like Hilbert's tone - which is totally understandable - but also that she's mostly worried that somebody's going to get hurt as a consequence of Hilbert's recklessness - which seems to be validated when the station's power cuts out and Hera goes offline mid-sentence.

Eiffel, given the circumstances, remains remarkably calm, but this does mark the point where the episode shifts genre to become what is, in effect, a haunted house story. It's set on a space ship, sure, but all of the beats from this point onwards are pretty much the beats you might expect if Eiffel were, say, spending the night alone in his late grandfather's crumbling old mansion, long rumoured to be cursed. It's paranormal horror at its finest, complete with weird voices and jump scares and a bunch of "it's probably nothing" moments.

I noticed, as well, that there was barely any music from this point onwards. There is some (shout out to the creepy little theme with the ghost-like, theremin-sounding wail and the soft bass guitar!) but it's subtle, and very much secondary to the sound effects, which suddenly get very loud. For as long as the power is off, we get all sorts of creaking, groaning and echoing - and with it a sense of just how big and empty the Hephaestus really is. Hera's constant presence and the electronic noises around the place do a lot to mask that, normally. But now we're hearing the silence, and it is eerie.

Adorably, Eiffel's first instinct is to ask himself, "What would Commander Minkowski say if she were here right now?" This leads into a huge and surprisingly detailed fake argument, of course, which is hilarious in and of itself, but there's also just something kinda sweet about how immediately Eiffel assumes that Minkowski would have a handle on things. Eiffel still complains about her a lot, at this point in the series, so the respect that this little moment betrays feels fresh and sort of unexpected.

Eiffel's not wrong to trust Minkowski, either. Once she shows up, the episode's main problem - Hera being offline - gets solved quickly and remarkably efficiently, with Eiffel doing the legwork and Minkowski giving instructions, and honestly, it's in moments like this that I remember how technically competent Minkowski is. I think I tend to remember the more military, combative bits best, with her stalking round harpoon in hand or shooting folks, so it's nice to be reminded that the Commander can also handle things like repairs just fine.

Of course, that  means that the episode's main tension is never actually about the power outage. The sudden silence and the threat of life support running out add to the episode's general atmosphere, sure. But the thing we are most anxious about, as the episode plays out, isn't the ship's newly-accessed Super Energy Saver Mode. No, instead of that, we're given a new mystery, and it's a doozy: what's up with that voice Eiffel keeps hearing?

It starts almost inaudible, but in the end Eiffel hears the words loud, clear and terrifying: "You're not the first." Which, like, terrifying much? It's vague and ominous and very chilling, especially with all the distortion that's going on.

In retrospect, of course, we know that this is our first encounter with Captain Isabelle Lovelace - indeed, it's one of the very few encounters that we have with the real, non-alien-duplicate Isabelle Lovelace, for whatever that's worth. We also know that she doesn't mean any harm - she's trying to warn the crew, in fact.

Strangely, though, knowing that doesn't actually this any less effective as a ghost story. After all, what are we hearing, but the voice of a dead woman, warning the crew about an even worse monster lurking in their midst? The Hephaestus, Lovelace's recording reminds us, is indeed haunted, if not literally then at least metaphorically, by the ghosts of its former crew and the traces that they have managed to leave behind.

With or without hindsight, then, the episode is creepy, hinging ultimately on the idea that there might be something not quite airtight in Hera's programming, that there could be something hiding - or deliberately hidden - just underneath her code. In making that the focus of the story, the episode opens up the tantalising possibility that something might fundamentally be wrong with the Hephaestus and its systems. The show's very setting is destabilised and made frightening - and that's a genie that you can't just put back in the bottle once you decide that you're done telling ghost stories. Instead, the feeling that something is not quite right persists even after Hera comes back online, and still haunts the episode as it draws to a close, since we don't actually get an explanation of who Lovelace is. Instead, it remains a mystery. A spooky, weird, always-in-the-back-of-your-mind mystery.

It's a bold move, and it feels a lot like what happened with the plant monster, which is also at large at this point. I'm beginning to suspect that this is a thing we're going to see more of, too - big, obvious plot threads that are ostentatiously waved in front of us, then dropped, apparently without comment. 

It's something I think these early episodes could do more easily, since the expectation that loose ends would be followed up on wasn't quite established yet. Later on in the series, everything gets more serialized, so if something like, say, an alien duplicate of Jacobi turns up and is left dangling, we can reasonably expect that it'll get addressed at a point. Earlier on? We've not got those expectations. This might just be the sort of show where weird, scary voices are brought up and then never mentioned again. It might be the sort of show that lets a plant monster loose and forgets about it for the rest of the series. 

When it turns out, then, that that isn't the case, even in these early, apparently inconsequential episodes, it feels like a bonus, and we get, in hindsight, a little thrill of recognition, as we realise that no, there was a plot there the whole time. It's a satisfying feeling, at least for me, and it's 100% what's fuelling this re-listen.

So yup. Super Energy Saver Mode. An exercise in atmospheric spookiness, an enjoyable haunted house story and just generally a pleasant surprise. Solid work, really.

  Miscellaneous thoughts

Eiffel is talking about an 830 day mission, if I've done my maths right - with the possibility of Command extending it! That is one long-ass time to spend in space with three other people!

I want to know Eiffel's top five Stick It to the Man songs so badly 

"Ooookay. Maybe this isn't one of those wait and see things. Maybe it's one of those... imminent death things."

Wait Hilbert had to amputate multiple of Minkowski's toes???

Bless her, Hera sounds drunk when she's coming back online ^-^

[miniherodesktales]

Paris Still/Boyfriends (8)

At 2 AM Oliver discovered a new trick he could perform with his magic: he could walk through wooden doors.

He had tried to push his way through the brick wall of his hotel room but couldn’t quite manage it. Still though, it was a neat and useful trick and he had no problems walking silently and ghost like into Artemis’ room without attracting Butler’s attention.

Artemis had been very stressed recently and more than a little unhappy, Oliver could sense it; so of course he wanted to help Artemis have a little fun.

Oliver’s form gradually became solid again as he moved towards Artemis’ bed. He shook him awake.

‘Do you want to go for a walk?’ he whispered in Artemis’ ear.

Artemis tried to look stern, but was a little too sleepy and groggy to quite manage it.

‘Walks are pointless, no thanks.’

Oliver grinned. ‘A nighttime stroll with me is never pointless. Come on, live a little.’

‘I do live a little. More than just a little. And Butler wouldn’t want to.’

‘I meant that we should go without Butler. Why disturb him?’

Artemis blinked at him. Iceland had been the last time Artemis had gone anywhere without his faithful bodyguard and that had almost destroyed their relationship. He couldn’t do that to him a second time.

Oliver sensed what he was feeling. 

‘I’ll protect you,’ he said, flexing his biceps.

Artemis glanced at Oliver’s muscles and threw back the duvet.

In Oliver’s defense he wasn’t deliberate leading Artemis astray (as if Artemis needed a guild anyway), because he really didn’t see any harm in what they were doing. Yes, it would upset the adults if they found out, but that was part of the fun of being young: doing things you weren’t supposed to, growing up, and falling in love.

And in Artemis’ defense - if he was allowed a defense at all - he was still on a course of Fairy psychoactive drugs, of which no one really knew what kind of effect they might have on an adolescent human. Turns out that an increased impulsiveness was a side effect.

***

Oliver held onto Artemis’ hand as he led him straight to the Pont des Arts.

The Pont des Arts was a very special place. 155 meters in length it stretched over the Seine offering views of the Eiffel Tower. And at 11 meters wide it was originally designed to be a “floating garden” with trees and flowers and benches. Even today artists gather there and picnics are held.

It is most famous for its “love locks”. Couples and lovers inscribe their names onto a padlock and attach it to one of the bridge’s railings. They then throw the key into the Seine as a symbol of their everlasting love.

The whole bridge was lit up with golden lights.

Artemis was fascinated. He jiggled a number of padlocks, testing their weight.

‘I estimate that in....’ he hesitated, suddenly looking highly uncomfortable. ‘f-four years time the bridge will start suffer significant structural damage. That number is always trouble...’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘The padlocks, Oliver. There must be thousands of them here and hundreds more added each tourist season. The bridge was never designed to bear that kind of weight.’

‘Okay, but how can you be so specific? Why not just round up to five years?’

Artemis looked cocky. ‘Because I can do simple math, estimations and multiplications, too. And all in my head. So, why be vague when I can be specific? Trust me, in one year less than five, this bridge is going to be falling apart.’

‘I’ll hold you to that.’

Artemis tapped a padlock with the side of his shoe five times to make amends for saying four out loud.

‘It wouldn’t be a bad thing if the locals got their way and had this practice banned. I shudder to think of all those keys lying on the bed of the Seine, slowly rusting, poisoning the water....How much of a sentimental fool do you have to be to damage the environment willingly just so that you can - and Oliver why are you reaching into your pocket? Oh, no.’

Oliver’s face reddened and he shoved the padlock into Artemis’ hands.

‘I know you won’t believe me,’ he said quickly, ‘but actually this is going exactly as I imagined. Which is good. In a way. Just take a look.’

First Artemis looked horrified at Oliver and then he looked horrified at the padlock which he had to hold beneath one of the lights so that he could read the inscription.

‘Artliver for ever, exclamation mark, exclamation mark.’ 

Artemis still looked horrified, but now he looked scared too.

‘Artliver....is that us? Oh, no, it’s one of those ridiculous relationship names! Are we in a relationship and I’ve been too self-centered to have noticed? How long?’

Oliver went down on one knee. The bridge almost went silent as the other passerbys stopped to watch.

Artemis wanted to run, but we all know how that would have worked out for him, so instead pressed himself up against the railings. Padlocks rattled.

‘Do NOT propose to me!’ he ordered. ‘I’d rather be eaten by a giant squid.’. 

‘I’m not proposing marriage!’ Oliver said, slightly breathless. ‘I just wanted to propose the idea of you being my boyfriend. At least come on a date with me. And that padlock? I just wanted to take a selfie with you, holding it. I feel the same way about the Seine. People are selfish for dumping keys into it, what idiots.’

‘Hey!’ said a passing woman, who had done just that with her boyfriend minutes ago.

Artemis’ mind was racing, flipping back both between yes and no, yes and no.

‘W-why....?’ he managed to stammer. Later he would hate himself for how stupid he sounded.

Oliver smiled sweetly. ‘I like you. You seem to like me. Going on a date would be the next logical step.’

Artemis swallowed hard.

‘I don’t know how to be a boyfriend,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll have to research it.’

Oliver nodded. ‘Me too. We can work it out together.’ His expression saddened and his eyes glistened. ‘I don’t want to be alone...I mean, I just discovered that I can walk through wood! Most people would be frightened by that, but you weren’t. I want to be with someone who understands me...I haven’t told you everything...please don’t let me walk this path alone...I need you, Artemis. I want you.’

Artemis nearly reached out to touch Oliver’s cheek, but pulled back at the last moment. He was as clumsy as showing affection as he was trying to kick a ball. 

He coughed and fiddled with tie (obviously he had put his tie on before sneaking out) and stared hard at the Eiffel Tower.

‘Very well, I consent to being your boyfriend. For a trial run.’

Oliver leapt to his feet. ‘Fantastic, wonderful! Thank you!’

‘But there will be rules.’

‘I thought there would be.’

‘No PDAs, no cheesy t-shirts, no teddy bears, no swapping of clothes...If I have to watch “rom-coms” I will vomit, which really did happen once...’

Oliver frowned. ‘Can we work this out later, Artemis, and just enjoy the moment?’

‘Sorry.’ Artemis’ face turned red. ‘I said no PDAs but seeing as Butler isn’t here and it’s so quiet...can I kiss you, just this once?’

It was Oliver really who did most of the work because Artemis had little clue of what he was doing. Neither did Oliver, really. It was one of those awkward teenage kisses that was completely sincere but awful in execution. At least the surroundings were nice.

Too bad that it ended with them falling sideways through the metal padlocks and the railings and tumbling headfirst into the Seine.

Turns out that when Oliver is relaxed and happy he can easily move through metal, and take anyone he’s holding onto with him. 

[glenncoco4]

Une histoire d’amor

Inspired by grandpa’s story in Passport to Paris. Rated T

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

September 4, 1945 - Paris, France

He turns the corner and immediately comes into contact with something rather someone. “I’m sorry-“ Whatever he was about to say dies at his lips when he turns to apologize and is met with the most gorgeous pair of mismated eyes that he’s ever seen. “I’m sorry, ma’am”

“In a bit of a hurry, are we?” She readjust her olive service uniform that matches right along with his. Turning her attention from her unharmed attire, Kensi looks up and is met with the most mesmerizingly perfect blue eyes. 

“Sor-sorry.”

She sees the turmoil in his eyes that’s carefully hidden underneath his jovial veneer. Eyes that have been on the frontlines of the battle field, that have seen unimaginable carnage on the battle field day after day, she knows because she sees the aftermath of what happens out there. “It’s okay.”

The clean cut blonde offers his hand to her, doing his best not to make an idiot out of himself. “I’m Marty Deeks. Most of the guys call me Deeks or Marty-Mar. My first name’s really Martin but you probably already got that from the Marty thing. I don’t really like it but my mama gave it to me and well-“ He stops at the sight of her trying to bite back a smile. 

“You sure do like to babble.”

“I may have been told that a time or two.”

She lets out a laugh. Not one of those fake laughs but a real genuine laugh. He decides right then and there that he has to know her. He has to know everything about this beautiful yet mysterious woman. 

Kensi takes his offered hand and tries to ignore the electricity that surges through her body at his touch. “Kensi Blye.”

“So, Kensi, have you ever had ice cream as you walk across Pont d’léna?”

“I have actually.”

“Oh.”

“Once you take me.”

He nods his head and smiles in understanding. A smile that just about turns her legs into jelly. Dear lord is she in trouble. “Awesome.”

A blush rises to her cheeks as he offers her his arm. She threads her hand through and rests it on his very muscular bicep without a second thought, which is very unlike her. The brunette sends up a silent thank you to whoever made her miss her bus to the airport this morning because something tells her what’s happening right now is a beautiful product of a horrible situation. 

XXXX

He slowly opens his eyes as the morning light streams in. His hand immediately reaches out to the spot next to him but is met with empty sheets. Marty’s eyes scan the Parisian hotel room knowing she’s not far. The first thing his baby blues land on is her form, turns out he doesn’t have to do much scanning after all. There she is, standing out on the balcony looking out across at the Eiffel Tower taking his breath away like she has been ever since they met four days ago. “Hey, you. Why aren’t you next to me?”

She turns around a soft smile on her face at the sound of his voice and the adorable pout of his lips. “How can you afford this?”

“I may know a few people.”

Marty sits up, resting against the headboard as his eyes darken watching her walk back into the room and towards him letting the bed sheet that she was using to cover her bare form fall to the ground. 

“Okay, I may have rescued the owner’s son out in the field.”

She finds her place back next to him in bed and props herself up on her arms, dragging one of her fingers across his bare chest in a soothing motion. “So what made you enlist?” 

“Mainly to get out from under my dad’s thumb and I wanted to do my part. But-“

“But what?”

“I think there’s definitely a bigger reason now.”

“What’s that?”

“I was suppose to enlist so that I could find you.” He feels her body stiffen and the motion of her finger on his bare skin stop. Realizing his words might be too much too soon for her he quickly switches tactics. “What about you, miss trauma nurse? What made you enlist? Wait do nurses enlist?”

She sees what he’s doing. He thinks he over stepped because of her immediate reaction. Truth is she was shocked at his confession for like a second before his words went right to her heart, sending an unknown warmth through her body. “Kinda. Ours is more of an applying type of situation.” 

“Well whatever it was, I’m glad you did it.”

“Me too.” Kensi leans forward connecting their lips in what starts out a soft kiss but quickly turns to want and desire. 

He pulls the covers back and she immediately straddles his thighs, brining her heat that much closer to joining his stiffing memeber. His arms go around her waist as he pulls her closer into his body. 

Feeling his eyes on her she look down and is met with an all too familiar look in his eyes, one she has yet to define. That is until she hears the next set of words leave his lips. “I love you, Kensi.”

She’s about to open her mouth to respond but before she can his lips find home on her olive toned breast. Her head tilts back as he begins to suck and nip at her nipple sending her into a state of ecstasy. 

His mouth continues its onslaught of kisses and bites to her flesh earning him a set of delicious moans coming from the beautiful woman that he’s quickly fallen for. 

“I love you.”

He’s not even sure he hears correctly but once he pulls back from his ministrations to her breast and sees the unwavering look of love shining in her eyes he knows that’s exactly what she said. 

She wraps her arms around his neck, bringing her lips to his running her tongue across his bottom lip asking for entrance. Tongues begin to duel and he quickly flips them hovering above her as they show each other exactly how much they mean those words. 

XXXX

She stares at their intertwined fingers as they take their seats on the small boat. Her mind flashes to the man that’s sitting right next to her and the past 10 days that they’ve spend together. The kisses they’ve shared, the love that they made and the talks that lasted all night are the things that will be in her heart forever. What she’ll hold onto forever. 

They both knew that it was inevitable - their separation. Tonight’s their last night here, their last night together. Tomorrow she’ll head back to North Carolina and he back to California. It took a war to bring them together and it’ll be a different kinda war once they say goodbye. 

He’s making tonight special not that every night since they’ve met hasn’t been special but this is it- the finale. His eyes look around at the scenery of Paris at dusk. He feels her squeeze his hand, drawing his attention away from the calculation going on in his head.

Kensi watches his brow furrow as if he’s trying to calculate something in his head. She’s seen it once or twice before and is already cataloged in her head. That’s one of the things she loves most about him, his facial expressions. He’s very theatrical. She’s never met anyone quite like him and she probably never will again. She squeezes his hand reassuring herself that he’s still with her right now in this moment. 

Marty turns to looks at her and immediately sees the sadness in her eyes. She tries to hide it with a smile but he knows her and knows the inevitability that’s running around in that beautiful mind of hers. It’s been running around in his mind too. 

She relaxes into his side as he wraps a comforting arm around her shoulders. This is where she feels most safe. In her 25 years this is the safest that she’s ever felt - in his arms. “I love you.”

He presses a kiss to the top of her head, sighing in contentment at the feel of her body snuggled into his and her arms wrapped around his waist. “I love you, too.”

They sit in the comfortable silence as the boat moves down the Seine River. 

It’s about 10 minutes and they’re slowly passing the Eiffel Tower when he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small envelope. 

She lets her arms fall from around his waist and watches as he opens it and turns it onto it’s side until something slides out onto his palm. 

The blonde solider looks up from his hand and towards the brunette nurse trying to gage her reaction and the only word that comes to mind is shock. She finally looks up at him, tears now glistening in her mismatched chocolate orbs. 

“I know this is crazy and we’ve only known each other for a week but it’s been the best week of my life. The moment I looked into your eyes you had my heart, Kensi. You are so special and beautiful and amazing and badass. I love you. It’s been a week and I’m already so deeply in love with you that this is the only thing that makes sense. Kensi Marie Blye, will you marry me?”

She can’t speak. A time when she needs to speak most she’s at a loss for words. This is furthest thing from what she expected to happen tonight. 

He knows this is a big step….a gigantic step, but it feels right. As he sits and waits for her answer he takes in the emotions that cross her face. From shock to confusion to elation to tears. Wait, tears? “Sweetheart, why are you crying?” 

“I thought you were saying goodbye.” She gives him a sad smile at just the thought and leans into his touch as he wipes the tears from her cheek. 

“Saying goodbye? That would mean that I won’t see you for awhile or ever again and I’m never leaving you, not if I can help it.”

Once she’s finally able to process what he’s asking a contagious laugh escapes her mouth and she nods profusely. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes!”

He jumps up in excitement but is quickly reprimanded by a boat crew member. 

She laughs at the grimace that crosses his face as he quickly sits back down and places the simple gold band with a solitaire diamond on her finger. Bringing her hand towards his face, she cups his jaw and rubs her thumb back and forth across his cheek in a soothing motion. She leans forward and connects her lips with her fiancé’s. Her fiancé. 

When air becomes scarce they pull back and she leans back into his embrace as his arm finds its place around her shoulders once again. “So where do you wanna live? North Carolina or California?”

She reaches for his hand, intertwining their perfectly interlocking fingers. “Well I’ve never been to Los Angeles before.”

[archiveofidentityconstellations]

birds all sing | part 2

part 1

and we’re back! chapter has been revised for the better! enjoy!

August

“That’s right, give it a good hard stare. Make that menu tell you all its secrets.”

Selina’s whisper tickled his ear, which would have been pleasant if Bruce wasn’t so infuriated. The past couple of weeks had not gone according to plan. For one thing, Tim had not quit. Rather, he had reached into his resources and manipulated multiple employees as well as members of the board. Bruce couldn’t count how many visits of “good will” he had received since last week, hoping to make him “aware” in subtle terms of their position. Bruce wasn’t surprised, per se, at the actions Tim had taken. He had been a resourceful boy and now was a rather ruthless…man. Bruce adjusted in his seat. That was a trait that he had cultivated in him, and now the tables had turned. He did not regret cultivating the trait, not for an instant. Tim was the most cerebral of his sons, the one he could rely on to do what must be done, even to his detriment.

Especially to his detriment.

“Have you even tried talking to him?”

Barbara’s voice had been snappish, dry, and derisive, though lacking any real bite. Bruce had stopped by the clocktower in lieu of Tim for the monthly check-in. Bruce, being an adult, had kept the details of the situation from the family.

Which meant that Barbara had interrogated him the minute he stepped into the clocktower.

“It’s not about that,” he had told her. At her look he explained, “Tim is young. He’s young and he’s never branched out. Besides that, he never proceeds with the expected. He didn’t throw a shampoo bottle at my head and move out like Dick did. He left home by time I returned, and his lifestyle hasn’t been investigated since then.”

“You really think getting married is his act of rebellion?”

Her tone was not flattering. Bruce bristled.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” he said. “Children are—“

“I think you don’t understand, Bruce, I really think you don’t,” she interrupted. “This isn’t a catch-all situation, it never is. You always think there’s a formula to these things. Why, I don’t know, especially since the fall-out is always terrible. My ears are still ringing from Jason’s tantrum in the eighth grade. You wouldn’t let him know why he wasn’t allowed to go on that D. C. field trip, remember that?”

Bruce did.

“Look,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m not here to argue or to lecture or any of that. I don’t think you’d listen to me if I did, though I’d try my damndest to make you.”

He scoffed. She smirked.

“I just want you to consider that this isn’t about you.”

Bruce paused. “How could this not be about me?”

“You get wrapped up in yourself, Bruce.”

Bruce cleared his throat, ready to deny this, but then Barbara sighed in a knowing way, cutting him off.

"I'm not here to argue about semantics," she said, looking at him behind her glasses. "Just consider that people, your children, everyone around you—we all have our own melodrama,” she said. “And we’re the main character in it. You’re the sidekick in this scenario.”

He stuck his tongue in the side of his cheek, blinking mulishly.

Barbara sighed.  “He’s not doing this to hurt you.”

“He put Bosch in the office,” Bruce protested.

A beat.

“He’s doing this to hurt you a little.”

Tim was sending a message, and it was personal. Besides all the office machinations and manipulations, he had taken to hiding out in Stephanie’s apartment, a place he knew Bruce wouldn’t visit. Not only that, but he went out of town for his birthday, decidedly not inviting the family or even letting Bruce know his plans.

Bruce didn’t know how to feel about that.

It wasn’t that either of them were especially attached to their birthdays, but ever since Tim had been adopted things had been—well. Different. Bruce had tried, put in more effort than he realized, in recognizing Tim’s birthday every year. He knew the boy’s parents hadn’t made it home more than not, and Tim had mentioned that through the years, a sure indication that it bothered him even if he didn’t admit to it. But Tim’s twentieth birthday had dawned bright and clear, and he had ensured that Bruce wouldn’t be part of it.

If Bruce was being honest, it hurt.

He had tried, damnit, and to have that effort thrown back in his face just because of a fight—Tim was supposed to be the good one. The understanding one, the easy one.

Bruce clenched his fists. Tim was supposed to be the reliable one.

“Maybe you should take that menu outside.”

Bruce looked at Selina. She quirked a brow at him.

“What, no come-ons? No sweet nothings about how good she looks?” She reached over and twisted the menu in Bruce’s hands, keen eyes surveying the width of the menu. She whistled. “I hear she also knows how to cook.”

Bruce didn’t smile, but it was a near thing. “I’m not ignoring you.”

Selina set her elbow on the table, leaning her head on her hand. “Oh?” She dragged a finger around his temple, long, scratching nail almost making him shiver. Almost. “You haven’t been paying attention to me either.” She pouted playfully, but her moue disappeared when Bruce only hummed. Her green eyes widened. “What’s wrong?”

Bruce hesitated. But before he could answer a waiter was directing a friendly-looking couple to their table. Selina sent him a look and stood up; time to meet the in-laws. Selina and her sister Maggie had discovered each other years ago after losing contact for more than twenty years due to foster care. Maggie had been shipped off to California and adopted. It was only after she had married Simon that Selina had brokered contact, and now his fiancé was deadset on including Maggie in the wedding details. Which meant meeting the groom. Which meant Bruce.

He sighed around his water goblet, taking a swallow and pasting a smile on his face when he shook Simon’s hand.

The situation with Tim could wait. Bruce had made it this far, he could hold it together for another hour.

“So then she said, ‘I sent my draft over’ and I was like ‘bullshit’ and then he went ‘I think we can all understand that folks have been busy’ and I was like ‘BULLSHIT’ and then she said ‘It’s not my fault that you spent all night working on it’ and she knows the grade is based on a group effort, it’s not individual, so I was about to go all Solange Knowles in the elevator, and THEN--"

Tim set his head against the wheel.

Stephanie tapped her fingers against his skull. “Honey? I know that my dramatic retelling of my summer class might be boring but you need to keep your head up to see the traffic light.” She tapped again. “Chop chop, eyes on the road.”

Tim obliged. “I’m losing it, Steph,” he murmured. “I’m losing it.”

“I’ll help you find it,” she assured him. “In the meantime we can share mine. Don’t crash my car. Now, where was I? Oh yeah, the elevator. So THEN—“

"It’s just,” he began, “he is up my ass—”

“Oh wow,” said Stephanie. “I have no idea what that feels like. I feel so sorry for you.”

Tim sent her an unimpressed look. She smiled beatifically at him. He reached over and pinched her thigh. Steph gave a shriek of laughter and drew her knees up to her chest. “Both hands on the wheel, Timothy Drake!”

He laughed and returned to the wheel, eyes scanning the road.

“But really,” she said, continuing their conversation. “He’s just in one of his Moods. You just have to ride it out.”

“Screw that,” Tim muttered.

“What is up with you two anyways? Normally you let him go crazy-anal and don’t get defensive about it at all.”

“Did you just call me a suck-up?”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Seriously, though. You’re obviously unhappy. What happened?”

“He just…he’s too much. And I’m sick of it. You know he was trying to get me to go to college?”

“Yeah, I only heard about it twenty times.”

“Well,” he flicked on the signal, “he basically threatened to fire me if I don’t do what he wants.”

“No! Wait, this is Bruce we’re talking about. Yes!”

“So I’ve basically been getting back at him at the office. And on patrol. And at home.”

“Is this why you’ve been sleeping at my place?”

He didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish. “Yes.”

“Okay, while I love that you’re using me as a tool to piss off your dad,” Steph took a sip from her water bottle, “what do I get from providing sanctuary?”

“I’m getting you a new car for your birthday,” Tim deadpanned.

“Volvo?”

“Lexus.”

She leaned over and smacked a resounding kiss on his cheek. “Mwah!”

He grinned.

“Has Bruce retaliated yet?”

“No,” he admitted, bitter and not sure of the reason why, “but then again I’ve tied his hands. I made Tam hold all my calls.”

Stephanie burst out laughing. “Oh Tim,” she gasped. “This is Mean Girls petty and I should say I’m disappointed in both of you but I’m also loving this?”

Tim gave a half-smile but didn’t respond. It had seemed fun, at first. Hitting Bruce where it hurt, like he had done to him. But after the third quasi-manic episode at the office (which had included balloons and Eiffel 65 blaring—he didn’t want to talk about it), it felt…empty. Like no matter what he did, Bruce was still going to think of him the same and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. There was no concept of a permanent sense of self, only a ‘Bruce sense of self.’ That didn’t mean he stopped the lying and manipulation; he just felt strange using Lucius for personal reasons. Like giving Bruce the finger.

Tim shifted in his seat, barely listening to Stephanie chatter. He thought about actual aggressive “negotiations” with the man. He visualized launching himself at Bruce and choking him out.  

Tim hummed, considerate. He took a left, merging onto the highway.

Not that he could really do anything. He’d just hang there, like a Tim-sized necktie.

But it’s the thought that counts.

“—And so then I’m stuck between two seats, my tongue almost touching the—hey!” Stephanie took her feet off the dashboard in surprise. “Why did you go on the 95? You know it always gets backed up.”

“Does it matter? Do you have to pee?”

“No, that’s not it.” Her eyes narrowed at the traffic. “We talked about ordering in tonight, and China Panda closes at eight.”

“I’m sure we’ll get home by—”

“You KNOW the 95 takes hours ever since they closed Doyle Pike, it takes—”

“Shit,” Tim swore. “For god’s sake Stephanie, you couldn’t have warned me?”

“I did!” she said shrilly. “I literally got into the car and the first thing I did was remind you about Doyle Pike and Mallowan Road and asked you if you had stopped off because I had less than half a tank of—”

The car gave a sputter.

Tim’s heart went cold.

“No.”

It jerked.

“Nonononono—”

It stopped.

This was hell.

Bruce examined the cutlery for the twenty-fourth time (he had counted). Silver, same as last time. It wasn’t as if he disliked his future in-laws. They were very nice people. Very…nice.

“And just think,” Maggie was saying, “after the wedding you could come visit us in California!”

“Yeah,” said Selina, face lighting up when she spotted their waiter across the room.

“And you could meet Linus!”

“Our son,” Simon explained, smiling at Bruce.

“Maybe you could even bring a friend for him,” said Maggie. She raised her eyebrows, alluding to something Selina knew about, for her sister smiled testily at her.

“Our waiter is coming,” she snapped, pushing the appetizer plates out of the way.

Maggie unrolled her napkin. “And Linus could even meet all the other kids! You have six, don’t you?”

If Bruce was surprised at being addressed, he didn’t show it. “I do.”

“You adopted, right?”

“I did.”

“I’m part of a blended family too!” she exclaimed. “I mean, besides Selina. I was adopted into a family, there were four of us until mom had Constance. I was seventeen, but I loved having a baby around, I think it really shaped me as an individual. What do you think about large age gaps between siblings?”

“Look, bread,” Selina announced. “Bruce, eat the bread.”

Bruce ate it.

Maggie moved on from her question, listing off her siblings’ names and dipping her bread with gusto, but Bruce considered it. Had his children’s ages and life experiences influenced the younger ones’ decisions? He knew that Damian was far more tactile due to Dick’s impact, and he likely would not be that way had he only been involved with Bruce. Perhaps that was what was going on with Tim. Perhaps there was some outside influence at work here, something (or someone, he thought to himself bitterly), that made Tim so stubborn. He knew the boy didn’t used to be this bad. He used to be able to wait him out. He remembered a specific scenario, giving Tim a look and Tim had immediately come clean, sniffling all the while.

Granted, he had been twelve at the time, but still.

There was something to this situation, an aspect Bruce hadn’t considered.

“What date for the wedding were you thinking?” asked Simon, stepping in when his wife paused for breath. “Have you set one yet?”

“Not yet,” Selina replied. “Look, food.”

Their waiter set down their entrees. Bruce unrolled his napkin amidst Maggie’s excited report on flexible venues.

“—And after a year or two the booking is still good!” she exclaimed. “So if anything comes up—”

“Nothing will. Bruce, steak.”

Bruce obligingly cut up his steak.

Although, perhaps an outside influence wasn’t the answer. Perhaps the answer was that Timothy felt that lies and manipulations were a viable tool of communication. Perhaps Timothy believed that respect was not warranted, not to his family, and not to Bruce. Bruce, you know, the man otherwise known as his father? Perhaps Timothy felt as though he should be able to do things with zero consequences. Perhaps Timothy thought that Bruce was stupid. Perhaps Timothy thought that it was funny that Bruce cared about him, that he wanted to see him succeed. Perhaps Timothy should be forced to cooperate, should answer his questions that he hadn’t bothered to ask because Timothy would feed him lies, all that boy did was lie, he woke in the morning and thought “How can I lie to Bruce today?” because lying about sleeping and his caffeine intake and his plans for school and where he was going to live and whose ring was in his closet—

“Bruce, chew.”

Bruce chewed angrily, snapping his jaws together.

“It is a lot,” Maggie was saying. At that point Selina had decimated all the breadsticks, wheat corpses mangled across the tablecloth. “I mean, I’m exhausted,” she admitted. “I’ll never sleep the same again, I swear it. But Linus is just so amazing. I can hardly believe that God gave me a baby, and that I get to have such a wonderful one. Especially after we struggled so much.”

Simon met his wife’s eyes, smiling reassuringly at her.

Selina paused. Her face gentled. She set her hand on her sister’s arm. “I have no doubt that you are a great mom, Maggie.”

Maggie bit her lip to cover up its tremble. “Thank you,” she whispered. She then cleared her throat and picked up her wine glass. “All in all, children are such a blessing,” she concluded.

Selina returned her hands to the table, face pinched again. She took a sip of her water.

Bruce twisted the napkin in his hands.

“I mean, what could be better than children?”

Sip.

Twist.

“I mean, they really are such a blessing!”

Sip.

Twist.

“Don’t you think, Selina?”

“Unf,” agreed Selina around a huge gulp of water. It spilled out of her mouth.

Twist.

“Plus, Simon and I are enjoying all these firsts of parenthood,” Maggie continued. “First time they roll over, first time they coo—”

Twist.

“First time they smile,” Simon added. They smiled at each.

Twist. Twist. Twist twist twist twist twist—

“And we’re so excited for what comes next!” Maggie squealed. “The first time they crawl, the first step, the first word—”

“The first time they set up an elaborate lie and tell you that they’re going to live with an imaginary uncle.”

The table went silent.

“PUSH!”

“I am pushing!” he bellowed.

Stephanie stuck her head out the window, eyes fixed upon him and definitely not on the road. “Push harder!”

Tim rolled his eyes. He planted his hands against the back of Steph’s 2003 Toyota Corolla and pushed. His heels lifted from the exertion, but he kept going. Sweat dripped and fell on the black tarmac. Cars inched forward behind him, growing more and more discontent.

Step by arduous step, they crawled up the highway.

Of course this would happen on the hottest day in Gotham City since 1999.

Of course today, of all days, this would happen. The climax of the truly spectacularly shitty summer. The summer a la Bruce, with special appearances by judgement and paternal harassment. Of course Tim would forget to fill the car up with gas. Of course. Of course! OF FUCKING COURSE.

“Do you want me to push?”

Tim leaned to his left, meeting her eyes.  “No. Keep your eyes on the road.”

“Are you sure?”

“Steph!” he shouted. “Keep your eyes on the goddamn road!”

“Okay fine!”

Her head disappeared inside. Tim hissed, hands slipping off the hot metal. “Shit,” he muttered, throwing his weight into the next push. The car behind him hovered, then quickly cut into the next lane. Horns immediately started blaring. “Let them in!” he shouted, in a rare show of traffic consideration. “We’re not going anywhere, let them in!”

Gotham’s heart must have grown three sizes since Tuesday, because, miraculously enough, the car in the next lane let them in. A line of cars merged over like a shiny caterpillar in the sun. Tim wiped his brow on his shoulder, arms straining with effort.

This was shit. Complete and utter shit. It wasn’t even funny in that cosmic, haha, look at this human fail, what does he know sort of way. It was shit. That’s all it was. There wasn’t a bright side or a “trial of soul” as Jason liked to say. It was just shit. His life was shit, his relationship with his dad was shit, his job was going down the tube, everything was shit.

Tim grit his teeth. The next lane’s goodwill had worn off, so cars were piling up behind him again. It really was a matter of time before he was run over, and at this point he would welcome it.

The driver door slammed open. He looked up.

“Switch!” Steph yelled, popping out of the car and racing around it, “Switch!”

Tim, without knowing he was doing it, dashed to the front seat. “This is a dumb idea!” he said. He adjusted the seat.

“Keep the windows rolled down!” was the reply. “Sometimes the wind picks up and you get a faint breeze!”

“Steph!”

The car suddenly heaved forward.

“What did you do?”

“I kicked it!”

“Don’t kick the car!”

“It’s my car!”

“I’m going to push again!”

“No!” Another heave. “It’s my turn! You rest!”

The car was moving faster than it was before. Tim tried not to let that rankle. Of course he would fail at pushing, he couldn’t do anything right nowadays. If he ever had. He groaned, slamming his head back against the headrest. It was bull self-pity, but at this point it was all he had. Bruce had basically already kicked him out of the family, and now was attempting to get him out of Gotham. Which, you know, pissed him off. Gotham was his home too, and he didn’t go around ordering people out of it. It was like Jason said, they all served the same mistress. Helluva lover, though. Tim brushed his knuckles over his jaw; he winced. Since fighting with Bruce he hadn’t bothered to check in, not even for patrol, which had resulted in no back up with some rather nasty bruises to show for it. Was it immature? Yes. Did Bruce absolutely deserve it? Yes. Tim couldn’t believe that he had had to hide at Stephanie’s apartment to escape him. He had been wearing the same business suits in rotation for a week, too scared to go back to his place and be immediately jumped and shipped off to Oxford. He imagined himself stuffed into a suitcase, strapped down to the luggage area of the batplane. Tim frowned.

And yet on the other hand, why was he fighting this at all? Bruce had made it clear, been explicit when he threatened to fire him, that he didn’t want Tim around anymore. Which, he’ll be honest, hurt his feelings. A lot. (He may have laid face-down on Steph’s couch and emitted dying squirrel noises at low moments, couldn’t be sure.) Why did Tim always do this? Why did he stick his nose into places where he was unwanted? Why did he slide into places with no room and insist he be allowed to stay?

This…wasn’t what he wanted. None of this was what he wanted. Maybe it was better he just take the hint and go. He wasn’t legally part of the family anyways, having been emancipated years ago. After Bruce got his way, there would be nothing holding him here.

“This sucks,” he whispered.

“HUH?”

“I said this SUCKS,” he shouted out the window.

“It’s all right!” she shouted back encouragingly. “It’s just like my eighth birthday! You get to live a day in the life, rich boy!”

Tim closed his eyes. Hot tears gathered around his eyelashes, but he didn’t let them fall.

Bruce always got his way. One way or another, Bruce always got his way. It was like the universe was curved to suit him and all the rest of the sorry bastards had to fight for the scraps. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. Nothing was ever fair, and that sucked.

Life sucked, Bruce sucked, Tim sucked.

“Tim!” shouted Steph. “Hon, you’re veering!”

Quick as a jolt, Tim opened his eyes and righted the wheels in the nick of time. Stephanie crowed in delight and the car heaved forward again from her kick.

Everything sucked.

But Stephanie didn’t.

Stephanie had been great about everything, like she always was. She hadn’t pushed him to explain and she made him coffee in the mornings, even gave him that stupid red mug that was made more for soup than coffee. She dealt with his stupid crap and mood swings and insisted that they go buy more suits for him because he was “starting to look like a business gigolo making ends meet” and had even made him laugh when he was being fitted because that’s what Steph did, she made everything brighter and happier and made the world not seem so bad.

Everything sucked, but Stephanie Brown didn’t.

“Switch!” he yelled suddenly, hopping out of the car, foot caught beneath the seat. He stumbled. “Switch!”

“No!” Stephanie yelled, but she was already halfway there.

“My turn!” Tim insisted, hair flopping in his eyes. He rounded the trunk, skidding into position. “Don’t worry, it’s my turn!”

Bruce always got what he wanted, but not this time. It was his turn. He pushed the car, ignoring the blisters on his heels.

Tim was staying.

“And they think you don’t know, they think you’re over the hills and simply believe them when they say they’re not doing what you know they’re doing. They think you’re an idiot that goes, ‘huh, they must be telling the truth because in this family we honor our word and respect each other enough to be honest.’ HAH!”

Maggie dropped her silverware.

“And you wonder, how long has this been going on? How long have you been going behind my back and doing EXACTLY what I told you not do!”

The couple at the next table looked over. Bruce didn’t notice.

“’Well, Dad, it’s been three weeks,” Bruce said, parroting a teenager’s voice. “And you haven’t confronted me so I’m going to assume that you’re alright with me lying to your face! Ha ha!’”

“This is really good,” Selina commented, taking another bite of her food.

“’Ha ha’?” Bruce repeated incredulously. “‘Ha ha’? How about I ground you for two months, that’s a ‘ha ha’ for me!”

“It’s got like this…” Selina quirked a brow in thought. “Lemony texture? It’s really fresh.”

“But you can’t do that, because while you were living your life, trying to ensure that everyone is doing alright because you can’t just let things go—”

“No kidding,” muttered someone behind them.

“Is that Bruce Wayne?” said another.

“—like others do! You know what happens when other people let things go?” He waved his hands. “Nothing! You know what happens when I let things go? Cataclysm!”

“What?” asked Maggie, puzzled. She leaned closer to Simon. He took her hand under the table.

“So while you were trying to prevent another cataclysm, they go off and grow up! So you can’t ground them, you just have to look them in the eyes while they smile and wreak havoc and tell you everything is fine.”

“So good. I’m definitely getting dessert.”

“And you just want to…” Bruce mimed closing his hands around a neck, “wring them by their skinny little neck and say ‘I know you’re LYING to me, you little SHIT!’”

The couple jerked.

“‘I know you’ve been lying to me,’” Bruce continued, caught up in his fantasy. “‘I know allllll your lies! But I pretended not to notice, because I wanted you to be comfortable! Well, fat lot of good that did!” He slammed his hands on the table. The glasses chinked. Selina chewed on her calamari. “’Because now, NOW? You’re screwing up your own life!’” He yanked the wine glass and downed the contents.

The room was silent. Simon cleared his throat while Maggie shifted in her seat. Selina waved their waiter over and asked for another entrée to go.

Bruce closed his eyes, letting the wine fill his senses as a reprieve. “But yeah,” he said after a moment, “Other than that. Kids are great.”

Was the I-95 made out of fucking lava? He could hardly feel his feet, they felt like they had been freezer-burned like old strawberries.

“Switch!” shouted Stephanie. Tim gratefully sprang forward and dashed into the front seat. He would feel bad, would feel like he was slacking, but he knew his turn would come again. He and Steph had managed the time required to catch a breath before switching. Tim had expected to do it all by himself but Stephanie hadn’t let him. And he was glad of it.

Steph was just…wonderful. In good times and in bad, Steph supported him. Even when he was being an idiot.

He was…glad to be taking this next step with her. Taking the plunge. After all, if not now, then when?

The feelings bunched up in his chest, shooting down his veins, so he stuck his head out the window. “Steph!” he shouted. He sat up further, tucking a knee on the seat. “STEPH! Steph, I love you!”

“Thank you!” she shouted back. “And here I thought you were only with me for my ass!”

Tim shook his head. “No listen,” he instructed, leaning out as far as possible, “I love you! I really, really do!”

The car stopped.

“Really?!”

“Yes!”

The car began moving again.

“I love you too!”

Tim grinned. “I think this is going to work!” he shouted again. “What we’re doing, I think it’s going to work this time!”

“Us or the car?” she shouted.

“BOTH!” he hollered. “SWITCH!”

Tim hopped out and Stephanie ran forward. Instead of going around the front, Tim circled back and almost smashed into her. They both laughed, breathless and exhausted.

“September,” she reminded him, shaking her hair off her face, halfway in the car.

“September,” he repeated, already making his way to the back.

They smiled.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.

A beat.

“Is this guy seriously honking?!”

“So when I said, ‘Let’s have lunch with my sister and her husband, tell ‘em about the engagement, really let them get to know you,’ you heard ‘have an absolute meltdown at the table; just fuck with them,’” Selina said, laughing. She swiped at her smeared lipstick and shut the sun visor mirror, leaning back and scrunching her hair in one hand. Bruce groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice muffled. “I really screwed that up, huh?”

“Nah.” She popped one of the complimentary mints in her mouth. “I told them you thought you were Christian Bale, today is your method acting day.”

He looked up. “You did not.”

“Nope.”

“Selina.”

She giggled, leaning over to massage his shoulders. “What’s the deal with you today? You’re so tense,” she complained, fingers digging at a muscle knot.

He sighed, but not in pleasure. Selina frowned. She pinched him.

“Ow,” he said dully, yet didn’t bother to push her away. She sat back anyway.

Selina huffed. “Really, what’s going on?” she asked, crossing her arms. Bruce didn’t respond. “Don’t make me pinch you again,” she threatened, holding her fingers like pincers.

Her fiancé turned on the car, grumbling, “What do you think is going on? I just told every staff member of Vivace about my problems, not to mention my new family members.”

“Tim? Still?”

He frowned at her incredulity. “Yes, Tim, still,” he said, taking a sharp turn into traffic. A horn blared behind them.

“Aw, baby.”

“He’s just,” Bruce sighed. “I can’t…”

“I know,” she murmured. “Have you tried talking to him?”

He frowned.

“Bruce?”

No response.

“Bruce.”

“He won’t answer any of my calls,” he admitted irritably. That fact stuck like a thorn. Worse than a thorn. More like a two-by-four. And he had been hit by them before, he knew what it felt like. “He told me to stay away from him.”

“Did you?”

He didn’t reply.

Tim didn’t want to be around him. Every instance of Tim’s new life, every personal decision, from age seventeen onward, had created distance. At this point, Bruce would believe that it was purposeful. But just what had he done so wrong? What had made Tim wake up one day and decide to schedule Bruce out from Monday to eternity?  

Had Bruce failed? Worse yet, had Tim realized that and moved on?

Bruce wasn’t a proponent on fairness, but he did believe in justice. And justice was fair. And that meant that Bruce would get another chance, would get to see his son succeed and not be stuck choosing something he thought was right, something he had trained for. Something he thought was meant for, something that had made sense at a young age but wisdom and experience and death had tempered. Something that broke him, warped him, made him unable to recognize himself through the bruises. Something that was a lifelong mission and that sounded so grand at twenty-two, but at thirty-two it stings and at forty-two it aches. Something that made him less than what he was, what he should have been, if he only had just…taken a moment.

“Are you sure it’s the ring you’re worried about?”

Bruce blinked. “Pardon?”

“Is it marriage that concerns you?” Selina asked, peering at him with keen green eyes. She then smirked. “Should I be worried about that?”

“I just…don’t want him to do something he’ll regret,” he said, throat tight. Tim was still young. Too young. Tim was his, and Bruce had barely had him. To lose him to marriage, to adulthood? After everything? He didn’t think he could bear it.

“Well, look on the bright side,” Selina teased. “You haven’t heard from him. He could already be married. Then you have nothing more to worry about.”

Something caught his eye.

Tim’s location blinked on his phone. Bruce looked at it. He twisted the wheel.

“I’m going to confront him.”

“Okay, babe. I support you. Now, can you drop me off first before you—”

Bruce drove past her apartment.

“–okay.”

“Merge onto I-95,” instructed the GPS. Bruce flicked on his turn signal.

“You do realize I was just kidding about them eloping, right?”

Bruce didn’t reply.

Selina sighed, slipping on her sunglasses

“Here we go…”