#now to add jag backtracking

[hannahwatchesbigbrother]

Hmmm what a funny thing to post after jag had been saying that he was going to cut Matt. Totally shows no bias that production may have. I’m sure the 3 hour long dr jag was just in was just a coincidence. The feeds outage was a very cool convenience too. I’m sure there was nothing funny going on. Matt’s just that great of a player 🤪 /s

[qitwrites]

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Kirishima stays behind in the gym most evenings. This is not news to anyone, nor is it uncommon.

He usually outstays everyone actually. His stamina seems to be endless, and his quirk relies on his physical health and his ability to increase and extend his limits. So, Kirishima stays, and he trains, and he smiles the whole time. He pumps iron like a madman but makes sure to stay (barely) within his limits.

Tokoyami is aware of Kirishima’s gym habits, so he isn’t surprised when he backtracks one day to pick up a towel he’d left on one of the stands, only to find Kirishima in the room even though it’s late evening. It isn’t anything worth noting.

What is weird though is seeing him sitting cross-legged on the floor, right in front of the floor to ceiling mirrors, his face almost glued to his reflection. He’s leaning with his hands on his knees, and Tokoyami’s sure his forehead is touching the mirror.

The red head just stares at his reflection, and Tokoyami realizes that Kirishima is so absorbed in whatever it is that he’s doing that he doesn’t even realize the beaked hero is in the room. Tokoyami cocks his head to the side and decides to wait a minute before making his presence known.

Moments later, Kirishima hardens himself. More specifically, he hardens himself from the neck up, his arms and legs still soft and unchanged. It’s still nothing too out of the ordinary, except the face-plastered-to-the-mirror-while-on-the-floor bit.

7 seconds later, Kirishima takes a deep breath and grunts, hardening further. Layers and layers of hardening stack up like a deck of cards, and Tokoyami swallows back a chirp of amazement as he witnesses Kirishima go into Unbreakable form, his face and neck jagged and sharp. It’s mesmerizing almost, his diamond like appearance, the way it makes the vertebrae on the back of his neck jut out like a protective armor, the way even his hair hardens, though he’s left it in a pony right now.

And his eyes. Kirishima’s eyes look fierce, fiery, and so menacing. Tokoyami watches him in awe.

Kirishima continues to stay on the floor, staring at his reflection in Unbreakable. Reading his expressions might be difficult when his face is literally like a slab of well sculpted marble, not soft or malleable enough to form expressions and convey emotions, but Tokoyami can tell he’s furrowing his brow. He can see the frustration dancing in his brown-red eyes, and a few more seconds later Kirishima drops his quirk entirely. His vertebrae melt back into his neck, his cheeks are soft and fluffy, his hair puffy, and his eyes-

Sad. Thoughtful. Frustrated.

Tokoyami clears his throat. ‘Excuse me.’

Kirishima whips his head around with a surprised look on his face. He breaks into a grin when he sees Tokoyami.

‘What’s up man?’

Tokoyami points at the stands near Kirishima, slowly making his way towards it. ‘I seem to have left my towel here, I wish to pick it up so I may wash it before our next sessions.’

Kirishima looks at the stand and nods in understanding. ‘Gotcha! Please go ahead.’ He gives him a thumbs up.

Tokoyami picks up the familiar black towel with its deep purple border. The material is familiar and deceptively soft, and it smells like him. He hugs it to his chest and takes a step back before turning to look at Kirishima. The redhead catches his stare in the mirror and looks up, throwing him a quizzical smile.

‘Pardon the intrusion,’ Tokoyami starts softly, fidgeting with the towel. ‘I happened to walk in while you engaged your quirk, and I am unable to understand your intentions.’

Kirishima’s face pales instantly. ‘Oh shit, you saw that? I swear, I’m not using my quirk for anything weird, I know we aren’t supposed to use it outside of hero stuff yet but please don’t tell anyone, I really don-‘

‘Ah, you misunderstand,’ Tokoyami interrupts. ‘I do not believe you’re doing anything improper or unsafe. I merely wish to inquire about your intentions as I could not decipher them for myself. That is, of course, if you wish to speak about it. With me. If not, I understand completely and will gladly drop the subject.’

Kirishima immediately deflates with a relieved sigh. He looks away from Tokoyami and watches his own face in the mirror. Tokoyami moves his gaze to Kirishima’s face, and they look at each other through the reflective surface. Kirishima gives him a small smile, tentative and uncertain and very un-Kirishima like.

‘I don’t like talking about it cause it sounds super dumb but it’s not like I don’t want to talk about it. Um. Just. Don’t laugh? I guess?’

Tokoyami nods. ‘I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. I am honored that you would trust me enough to open up about whatever it is that seems to plague your mind.’

Kirishima laughs softly. ‘I don’t think it’s anything quite so dramatic. It’s just, I’ve been doing some quirk training, I guess? Not the kind I can do during our Hero course though. This is more personal?’

Tokoyami nods in understanding, silently urging him to continue.

‘I’ve read so many things about my Unbreakable form. Most people love it. And I love it! I mean, it’s definitely a work in progress, and I know I can develop it more and get better and stronger and everything, but it’s a good move for sure. So, like, I know we all get our criticisms about our quirks, that’s normal and that’s ok.’

Kirishima clenches the fists in his lap, eyes dropping down to watch them. ‘I’ve read that my Unbreakable form is scary. Ugly. Menacing. Frightening.’ He purses his lips. ‘I don’t think those are bad things, not at all. And I don’t really mind what it looks like, it gets the job done!’

Kirishima looks back up, twisting to catch Tokoyami’s eyes with his own, omitting the mirror altogether. ‘But I wonder if my face is too scary for the kids, you know? And when I’m in the middle of a rescue in the future, I don’t want to add to their stress. I don’t want to scare them anymore than they already probably will be. But I can’t really drop Unbreakable all the time either.’

Tokoyami nods again, understanding Kirishima’s problems and feeling it ache in his core.

‘So, I wondered if there’s any way for me to make Unbreakable just a little more humane while preserving its functionality. I was thinking about softening just my eyes, so they’re not quite so jagged and scary.’

Kirishima’s eyes move back to the mirror, and he punches his thigh roughly, mouth twisting into a grimace. ‘Fine control over small portions of my body is hard though. I have a tough enough time maintaining Unbreakable on its own. To fine tune that even more seems impossible. And like, I’m not even sure it’ll work. I don’t know. I don’t have any idea what I’m doing Tokoyami. Not a damned clue.’

Tokoyami trills in thought, his hand moving up to support his chin.

‘While I do not wish to move the subject away from you, I would like to convey my empathy for I too face similar challenges.’ He gently prods Dark Shadow from within before continuing, ‘I do not have a conventional appearance. I do not look scary either, but Dark Shadow is, I have been told, a formidable presence.’

Dark Shadow peeks over Tokoyami’s shoulder and waves enthusiastically at Kirishima. The redhead breaks into a huge grin and returns the gesture with gusto, more than used to Dark Shadow’s appearance and antics. He really likes the guy.

‘I appreciate that our classmates have gotten used to us, and to him, but I also question how many civilians would like to be rescued by an individual with an ability like mine. I too would not like to add to their distress.’

Kirishima nods in understanding, the look in his eyes softening immeasurably.

‘I am unsure of how to help, but I would be happy to provide you with any moral support or even some simple company while you embark on this quest.’

Kirishima pats the spot next to him. ‘Sure thing Tokoyami, I really appreciate it man!’

Tokoyami nods and takes a seat on the floor. The two boys move to face each other, and Tokoyami spends the next half hour watching Kirishima engage his quirk, engage Unbreakable, and then struggle to soften his eyes.

He watches as Kirishima softens a cheek instead sometimes, watches as his forehead ripples uncertainly, watches his neck pulse with his quirk, and watches as his eyes sometimes go soft and warm. He encourages the best he can, celebrating the victories and pushing Kirishima to try once more when he fails. They burst into laughter more often than not, and it’s honestly a lot of fun.

Even Dark Shadow hangs around, somehow procuring pom-poms to celebrate and cheer.

When Kirishima finally calls it an evening, they get to their feet and start heading to the dorms.

‘If you require company, please do not hesitate to approach me. If I am able, it would be an honor to cheer you on and watch you succeed in this endeavor.’

Kirishima places a large, warm hand on his shoulder and squeezes. ‘I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this Tokoyami! I don’t practice it every day, but I’ll shoot you a text whenever I get the time to practice, and we can try to coordinate and make it work!’ He gives him his big sunshine smile. ‘Thank you for talking to me about it by the way, I really do feel a lot better.’

Tokoyami gives him another nod, and the boys walk back, enjoying the evening breeze and some light banter.

In the following weeks, Tokoyami and Kirishima swap messages and meet a lot more often. Tokoyami keeps tabs of his progress and gently pushes him to do better, and Kirishima laughs around with Dark Shadow when they take breaks. Sometimes they meet, decide they’re too lazy to quirk train and just watch old horror movies that leave Kirishima hiding behind Dark Shadow instead. Sometimes they listen to alt rock or do bicep curls. It’s a refreshing change of pace for both of them.

All their training does pay off though, sooner than they could’ve anticipated.

Aizawa brings Eri with him to hero training one day, and the young girl sits on a chair out of the way, watching with wide, amazed eyes. Aizawa stays close to her, watching over training with keen, knowing eyes. When he sees Kirishima doing some resistance training in Unbreakable form, he thinks of some pointers.

‘Riot!’

The redhead whips around to look at his teacher. Aizawa makes a come over here gesture with his hand, and Kirishima drops his quirk as he starts walking.

‘Come over here with your quirk engaged,’ Aizawa says. ‘You need to keep working on how long you can maintain your Unbreakable form, so don’t drop it right now.’

Immediately Kirishima engages his quirk and walks over to Aizawa, and every step is filled with the sharp sound of friction. Tokoyami watches as they talk, and he sees Eri looking at Red Riot with big wonderous eyes.

When they’re done chatting, Kirishima looks over at Eri. She flinches slightly, though no one can blame that on Kirishima’s appearance- Eri still flinches with most people.

Still, Tokoyami watches as Kirishima gets on his knees in front of her, still in Unbreakable form, and he sees Kirishima soften his eyes. They become liquid ruby, and he can feel the warmth almost from halfway across the gym.

He can’t hear what they say, but he sees Eri smile bright and even giggle, and he sees Aizawa appraising the situation with raised brows and an impressed sort of half smile.

Tokoyami gives Kirishima a pat on the back in his mind and bumps fists with Dark Shadow.

They all definitely have to celebrate later with some old horror movies and popcorn.

[kalaluchi]

chapter 05: Jagged Stone

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Marinette was confused.

How could two people go from comfortable banter to awkward silence in a span of two days? She’d heard of going from 0 to 100 real quick, but she’d never thought it’d happen to her.

More accurately -- to her and Adrien.

She stared at the back of his head, wondering where she’d gone wrong, as Mme. Bustier droned on with her lesson.

Marinette had really thought she’d finally gotten over the shy-awkward-start phase after the whole movie “date” last Friday. (She still wasn’t sure if that had been meant as an actual date, or as a chill friend hangout. And frankly, she was too scared to ask.)

But then the weekend came and they’d barely talked. (Though she’d been secretly hoping for a random good morning from him or something -- even just once.) She’d been busy baking and cramming assignments and random projects, and just like that the weekend was over.

It was now Monday, and she was sad to think all her efforts to become closer had gone down the drain. They’d exchanged greetings as she made her way to her seat that morning, but it was now 2 periods after lunch, and he hadn’t spoken to her at all. There weren’t even any of the corny memes he used to send when they were both bored in class.

Not that he’d been ignoring her, though. It just seemed like… he’d forgotten about her or had nothing more to say to her.

She probably could have reached out herself… but every time she was about to approach him, she felt like she was walking on eggshells. One wrong step, one wrong word, and something would crack.

She groaned, painfully aware that she was probably overthinking things too much. She checked her phone for the 10th time that period -- no new messages.

Marinette let out a sigh.

One apparently much louder than she’d intended.

“Anything to share with the class, Marinette?” Mme. Bustier’s voice broke through her thoughts.

She bit her lip, her ears red. “No, Mme. Bustier. Sorry,” she murmured, embarrassed.

She thought it was absolutely worth it though, because just then Adrien offered her a small smile in sympathy before turning back to face the front. So there was hope for them yet.

She sat back in her seat, deep in thought again. On impulse, she leaned forward and tapped Adrien’s shoulder while Mme. Bustier was facing the blackboard.

“Do you, uh, can I borrow a pen?” Marinette whispered in his ear.

If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought Adrien was blushing slightly from the sudden interaction. “Here you go,” he replied in the same quiet voice.

Her fingers tingled when they brushed his during the exchange, but she thanked him anyway. She really had no intention of using the pen (she’d never leave home without her beloved pencil case, with all the colorful pens and markers, please) so she decided to wait until class ended to return it and use it as an excuse to start a conversation.

Brilliant! This must be what Alya feels when she comes up with one of her schemes.

.

.

.

An hour later, as Adrien began packing his bag to go home, Marinette tapped him on the shoulder nervously. Her brilliant-a-period-ago plan was starting to not feel brilliant at all.

Nevertheless, she held out the pen to him, smiling. “Thanks for lending me this a while ago. You’re a lifesaver.”

He chuckled easily. “No problem. You looked like you needed some life-saving,” he joked.

Marinette couldn’t help but scoff at that. “I can save myself, thanks,” she muttered, in a tone sharper than she intended.

“Of course,” the blond backtracked hastily. “I didn’t mean to assume, I just--”

“Is… that a Jagged wallpaper?” Marinette asked suddenly, immediately forgetting the earlier offense.

“Uh, yeah. You listen to Jagged Stone?”

“Listen to Jagged? Get out, I practically breathe Jagged! Wow, I can’t believe he didn’t come up once in our conversations…”

“Well, I… didn’t really peg you to be a Jagged girl, honestly. No offense, though, I really don’t know why it didn’t occur to me. I mean, now it seems obvious. You’re nearly as cool as him.”

“Shut up,” Marinette laughed, waving away the compliment. “No one is as cool as Jagged. And it’s okay, I didn’t peg you to be a Jagged fan either.”

“You’re kidding. How could I not? A great singer, and a great player too. Piano, guitar, you name it! Heck, I bet he could even play, like, a lyre or something.”

Marinette scrunched her nose and raised an eyebrow. “A liar and a player at once? Can’t say that’s exactly my type. I’ve met too many of those, thanks.”

Red spots bloomed in Adrien’s cheeks as he sputtered, “No, I’m not-- that’s not what I--”

“I’m joking,” she interrupted, honestly surprised at his reaction. So annoyingly endearing.

“Oh.” Adrien sighed in relief, as Marinette bit back a smile.

There was an awkward pause as she thought of what else to add.

She had just opened her mouth when Adrien blurted, “There’s actually a Jagged show tomorrow.”

“Yeah, part of the Jagged Worldwide tour, right? I’ve got my room all set up with 3 flavors of popcorn to eat while I stream it.”

“Actually,” Adrien said somewhat nervously, “I may or may not have an extra ticket to the show, thanks to the Agreste brand and all.”

“Get out,” Marinette deadpanned, in shock.

(Adrien noted that that was the second time she’d said that in the last five minutes, and chuckled internally. How cute.)

“So, you wanna go?”

There it was again. That… awkward is-this-a-friend-thing situation. Marinette’s conscience told her no, don’t fall for his trap! He definitely only sees you as a friend, you’ll just get hurt if you hope for more! Which, true… but then again. This was Jagged. How could she say no?

“I’m in.” She beamed, bouncing on the soles of her feet. Even though the concert was on a school night, she was fairly sure her parents would let her go once they found out it was another ‘date’ with Adrien.

“Hey, Nino! Marinette said she’s game to come with us to the concert tomorrow,” Adrien called over his shoulder at his best friend.

“Sweet! See you there, my dude! I’ll pass the news on to Alya.” He gave a last wave before leaving.

Ah. So definitely not a date. At least she was aware.

Unless… a double date? Marinette groaned inwardly. Why did things have to be so complicated? She could almost feel the headache she was going to get from all this. (Especially now knowing that Alya would be involved.)

.

.

.

Marinette had never seen so many people in her life.

If she thought her bakery’s end-of-the-month sales were insanely crowded, that was nothing compared to the mass of people at the concert grounds, tightly packed and eagerly awaiting the arrival of their favorite singer.

As usual, something went wrong right off the bat. Their little group of four had gathered outside the grounds at 4:30pm sharp, but it hadn’t even been five minutes since they’d entered and already Alya and Nino were nowhere to be seen.

Marinette panicked immediately, obviously, frantically searching for the telltale brown-red-tipped hair of her best friend.

Adrien calmed her down immediately, saying that the lovebirds probably wanted to ‘spend some alone time together.’

Had Marinette been in a normal state of mind, she might’ve noticed that this practically reeked of another of Alya’s schemes. As it is, she simply allowed herself to be led by the blond-haired boy.

“Let’s go this way so we’re closer to the stage,” Adrien said gently, steering her one way. “Here, you can… hold my hand so we don’t get separated,” he added softly, taking her hand in his.

Soft. She was surprised to find that his hands were smooth and uncalloused. Well… she didn’t know what she had expected, but she thought they were absolutely fine as they were.

They finally made their way to the front as the singer stepped onto the stage to an eruption of cheers. She had to bite back a pout as Adrien dropped her hand to clap his own. She was about to suggest they link hands for the entirety of the concert, but all thoughts disappeared once the music started playing. She let herself get lost in the song, letting go of all her fears and doubts just this once, dancing to the tune, jumping to the beat.

A few minutes in, Adrien leaned in close. “I love this song,” he said, speaking directly into her ear to be heard over the crowd’s screams.

“Me too!” she shouted in reply, hoping in her heart it were actually words of endearment he’d said.

Once the first five songs ended, Jagged Stone stepped up to the mic, and a quiet hush spread through the crowd, waiting with bated breath for what he would say.

“I just want to thank everyone here for coming,” he started, pausing when the crowd roared their approval. He laughed heartily. “Never in my life would I imagine I’d be getting crowds like this, especially right here in Paris. Not many people know this, but I didn’t always like the name Jagged Stone. I mean, as is, it’s really nothing, right? It is what it is: a stone that is jagged. That means cut different from the rest, sort of sharp around the edges, prone to hurting others. Who would want that, right? Growing up, I was told I’d probably amount to nothing, so maybe I should choose a safer, more secure path. But then-- and here’s the key-- I grew up. And look where I am now.”

Marinette whooped along with the other concert goers, wanting her support to be evident.

“See, that’s the thing,”Jagged continued, on a roll. “These things take time. I came to love the name Jagged Stone. Because over the years, stones that are jagged smoothen around the edges. They become toned, weathered. They become the kind of precious stone you see being used in jewelry, maybe. Suddenly they’re something beautiful, valuable. Meaningful. Are they different from what they were before? Of course. But are they still themselves? Absolutely. Was that greatness there all along, right from the start? Without a doubt.

So to everyone out there: don’t rush it. Everything moves at its own pace. You may seem sharp around the edges, but that’s just how we are. Other people might not know how to approach those edges, afraid of getting hurt. But give it time. The ride will smoothen out. I want you to remember that there is already something valuable in each of you, even at this very moment. It’ll just take time for you to get used to that something, to hone it into the best version of you.

And speaking of time, I’d like to thank you all for the time you’ve given to be here! With that I’ll be performing my last song of the concert, my brand new single: Miraculous!”

.

.

.

“That. Was. Amazing.”

Ten minutes later, Adrien and Marinette had navigated their way out of the thick of the crowd, and were making their way to the meet-up spot as previously discussed.

“Definitely,” Marinette agreed, taking a bite of the cotton candy she’d bought. “That speech before the last song? That was my favorite part.”

“Really? He played six songs and not one of them classifies as your favorite part?”

“Oh, be quiet,” Marinette scoffed, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Stop judging. It just… hit close to home, I guess.”

“Oh… Well, uh, I don’t really know any of the context, but you do know you’re pretty amazing, right? As you are right now.”

Marinette took another bite to hide the blush spreading across her cheeks. “Thanks,” she said meekly, unsure of how else to respond.

“There you are!” a voice called. Marinette suddenly found herself enveloped in a tight hug. “I can’t believe we got separated right at the start! Nino here wouldn’t even let me go look for you because we’d found a great spot, he said.”

“Hey!” her boyfriend protested. “You were the one who said let the two lov-- oof, did you have to step on me foot?”

“Oops, accident,” Alya said lightly. “So anyway, how did you two find the concert?”

“It was fun,” Marinette replied softly, wrapping her arms around her best friend’s waist.

“Yeah? Something interesting happen?”

Marinette laughed. “No, I guess not. It was just… I don’t know, it seemed pretty--”

“-- miraculous,” Adrien finished, and they all had to agree.

As they headed back, Marinette reflected that maybe it wasn’t so bad she’d been treading on eggshells just the other day. Maybe her relationship with Adrien was just like what Jagged had said in his speech. At the moment rough at the edges, either party cautious of how to proceed in fear of hurting the other or getting hurt. And that was okay.

Because eventually, it would smoothen out.

And eventually, maybe, just maybe, it would bloom into something beautiful-- something hopefully more than friendship.

All they really needed was time.

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[sincerelymarinette]

A Recorded Life Sequel (1/10) - Miraculous Ladybug

Words: 1183 Chapter Summary: A few months after Hawkmoth's arrest and Fu's decision to make Marinette the new guardian, the crew has a lot going on. Between school, all types of work, and trying to hide from the world the heroes are still around, what could go wrong? At least there's a little break with Marinette's newest video. Author's Note: Hello! Welcome all to the A Recorded Life Mini-Sequel! This is going to be a 10 chapter series. The series will be split into two main parts, the first few being a few months after the end of A Recorded Life, and the second part being a few years down the line. It's gonna be fun and I hope you enjoy!

Next / Masterlist

A Few Months Later

---

Marinette ran as fast as she could down the sidewalk. She ran late leaving a design class, got to the bakery with just enough time to throw her stuff in her room, then grabbed her other bag to get on her way.

She checked her phone every ten seconds to keep an eye on the time, knowing she would be late no matter what. She did consider transforming into Ladybug for the fast commute, but figured it was too busy and bright out, and the world doesn't know they're still around just yet.

Finally, Marinette rushed through the revolving doors to dodge countless people as she ran to the elevator. She pressed the button as fast as she could, as many times as she could, knowing that wouldn't make the elevator come any faster.

Once the elevator door opened, she had to move out of the way for six people to make their (slow) exit. The last person in the elevator laughed at her. "You're late," She said as she exited.

Marinette rolled her eyes. "Thanks, Chloé, I know!" Marinette said as she pushed the button to the top floor.

The elevator couldn't move fast enough up the floors. Luckily, since she was going up, she didn't get stopped on other floors. As soon as she landed on her floor and the doors opened, she ran out, and to the room, she knows too well. Without knocking, she burst in. "I'm here!" She yelled.

"Ah, there she is!" Jagged Stone's voice called from somewhere in the suite. "Called it. Thirteen minutes on the dot," He joked as he rounded the corner with a big smile.

"No need to rub it in!" Alya's voice echoed, a little annoyed.

Marinette groaned. "Were you guys making bets again?" She asked as she and Jagged walked over to the big couch where Alya was setting up the camera.

"They were," Adrien said. "Penny and I know better just to let you get here when you get here," He smirked and stood up to hug his girlfriend. "How was school?"

"Stressful," She nodded. "Lots of work to do this week, but this gives me an excuse to take my mind off it all," Marinette reminded him. "So let's not talk about that now, let's film our video!"

"I think the fans might've caught on to what we're doing," Alya laughed. "The picture with Jagged gave too much away."

Marinette shrugged as she got out her notebooks and extra filming supplies. "Oh well, gives the fans something to look forward to. They need it," She said. "Ever since school started, I've had to slow down making videos, so giving them some hints makes them happy."

The group agreed with her reasoning, and Adrien laughed. "I'm still surprised you're making videos. With your workload, I don't know how you do it," He complimented. "Imagine if we had Hawkmoth to fight, too," He chuckled.

"Good thing we took care of that before we started University," Marinette sighed with big eyes. "I'm ready whenever you guys are," She motioned to the camera.

"Ready back here," Alya said as she monitored the camera and audio.

Jagged smiled wide. "Then let's begin!"

After getting one last confirmation nod from Marinette, Alya counted down to give them their cue. "Hi! I'm Marinette!" Marinette started the video. "It's been a while since we've had a video that wasn't related to fashion and school, but here we are, back with a fan favorite series, Adrien vs. Jobs!" She announced and Alya, Adrien, Jagged, and Penny all clapped as her audience. "Today our special guest is Jagged Stone, kind of obvious since he's right here, but we're all excited!"

"Oh, it's going to be a good one today, rockers," He smiled. "Making a song with Adrien Agreste?"

"Name a better crossover!" Alya shouted from behind the camera. "Truly iconic."

After a short fit of giggles, Marinette grabbed her notebook while Jagged held the guitar. "Adrien, what do you know about music?"

Adrien looked confused and furrowed his eyebrows. "I played piano and I mostly enjoyed it," He said.

"I meant rock music," Jagged explained further.

"Oh, well, not too much. I've listened to you for years and Nino DJs but not much past that," He admitted. "Oh! And for a hot minute I played with Luka and Juleka's band, but that was short-lived."

Jagged nodded. "Right, that's okay," He said. "We'll work on lyrics together and you just tell me if what I play sounds good. Maybe we can add a keyboard backtrack," He said.

Marinette mainly sat to the side observing, but she also took notes of anything that was said that they wanted to remember. The entire session of writing their song only took a few hours, and since Marinette has a big memory card, she was able to record nearly all of it (sure, they stopped recording at times when things got boring).

It was a shorter song, not a whole three minutes, but it still took time to come up with. At first, they started with random words and lines strung together, but as they got a little ways in, it started to sound like something that could have come straight from Adrien. Once they realized that, they dedicated the song to his mom and made it like a gift to her. They tried their hardest to make it an uplifting song, not wanting anything sad, and though it was emotional, they were able to make it have the Jagged Touch of a rock song.

It was almost like a letter to Emilie, but was just vague enough that anyone could relate to it and enjoy the song, but true fans would know the meaning. They were even able to get some keyboard to back up the guitar.

In the end, Marinette had tons of footage she could edit down (and maybe even release uncut one day) to make a special video, with the live performance of the song at the end. The fans would be so excited to see a new video with all of their favorite people in it, not just Marinette making a new outfit; even though they also enjoy that.

"So, Jagged, do you think Adrien could do this job?" Marinette asked at the end of the video.

"Parts of it. Maybe a lyricist," He smiled. "You know what? We should get into the studio and make this an official song and release it for real!" Jagged jumped up. "Not even a question, it has to happen. And we donate the sales to charity," He said.

Adrien jumped up as well. "I'm ready whenever!" He said.

Marinette smiled and shook her head at their excitement, then looked at the camera. "Well, keep an eye out for that! Check in the description for where to buy the song," She said. "And don't forget to check everyone out on social media, also linked in the description. Thank you for watching, and we will see you next time!" She ended the video, knowing everything to come from this was going to be amazing.

Immediately after, Jagged and Adrien got to work on making it an official song. And the fans ate it up.

---

@lady-of-the-roses-and-lilies @bookishserendipity03 @avatheexceed @gkz10 @coccinellegirl @kat-thatoneweirdo @strawberryblondish @snow-swordswoman @lilgaga98 @evufries  @toodaloo-kangaroo 

[the-entity-down-the-street]

Memory Eater

Since a few of you have expressed interest in reading my terato stories, I’ve decided to start posting a few. This first one is actually from a workshop I did for class back in the spring of 2019. I wrote it when I was going through a bad mental health period, and BPD was kicking my ass. Mental illness is a frequent theme in my work,and I’ll tag accordingly. I’ll the put the story under the cut. if you aren’t interested in my stories, blacklist the tag “entitywrites”

Hope you guys enjoy!

Dahlia woke up in her closet with one hell of a hangover, a hollow void where last night should’ve been, and a sticky note on her chest. She peeled it off to read.

Call me so I know you’re okay, if you could. Thank you, babe! – Love, Gideon

Her questions were caught between a pounding headache and a desperate need to vomit. Dahlia stumbled out of her closet and dashed to the bathroom.

Once her stomach was emptied, Dahlia wobbled over to the mirror and assessed herself. She was still wearing her nightgown, but the front was stained irreparably by something that looked like wine. Old, faded eyeliner wings clung to the skin around her eyes. Her hair looked less like a neat, curly bob and more like a mishappen stormcloud.

Dahlia rubbed her eyes until colorful blotches danced before them. She tried to organize the evidence she had at hand into a cohesive narrative. She had somehow worked up the nerve to go out partying, in skimpy pajamas no less, and in the process found enough charm to get a number. She couldn’t even remember leaving her apartment.

Then again, memory had always been an issue for her. It was easy for things to get lost and liquify into a gray mush, sometimes five minutes after they happened. Dissociative episodes did the worst damage, of course. She blundered through the days half-aware, divided from herself, plagued by a suicidal itch. Those memories were static at best. It was a stress response to the Borderline Blues. But this was different. This was a black hole where the static should be.

Dahlia dug her fingers into her scalp, as if that would squeeze something out of the void in her head. When that didn’t work, she shambled over to her bed, a little nest of unmade sheets in the corner of the apartment. She considered getting breakfast from the kitchenette, but the mere idea made her stomach want to upend itself again. Dahlia wrapped herself in a blanket and thanked whoever was listening that she didn’t have work today.

A glint of light on the nightstand caught her eye. She lifted her head up. There was a glass rose pink liquid sitting next to her lamp. The amorphous shadow it cast over the wood highlighted the second note beside it. Dahlia propped herself up on her elbows and snatched it.

For the hangover you’re going to have! Home-brewed cure. Drink it in steady gulps, don’t stop until the glass is empty. – Love, Gideon

“We add another layer to this fuckery,” she mumbled. So, this Gideon had been in her apartment, huh? Did he walk her back? Did he stay the night and bail before she woke up? If that was the case, why did he offer his phone number? None of these theories got her any closer to why she fell asleep in the closet.

Dahlia rested her head back on the pillow. The world was spinning around her aching brain, as if she were the center of a cramped, painful universe. Thinking was becoming a rigorous exercise. She tried to backtrack and grasp onto something, anything, from the night before.

Nothing. Empty. Null and void.

Dahlia tried going back further, knotting her brows together in concentration. There barely anything in her memory from the day before. And the night before that. And the night before that. Her memories were suddenly spotted with jagged holes of time. Was it the migraine blotting everything out?

Desperate, and a little panicked, Dahlia picked up the mysterious concoction left for her and began to gulp it down as suggested. It was flavorless, like water, but each gulp came with a pulse of gentle, radiating warmth. It calmed the storm in her stomach and suffocated the agony in her head.

When the drink was completely gone, Dahlia set the glass down and sank into the bed with a heavy sigh. The warmth died out and left clarity in its place. She basked in the bliss of clean, painless sobriety for a few minutes. Wow, when Gideon said a cure, he meant a cure.

Dahlia tried backtracking again, hoping for better results. Sometimes pain made her symptoms worse. Yet, when she shuffled through her head, the holes remained. Even going back to the beginning of last semester, there were missing patches of time.

Shit.

This was bad.

She thought of the note Gideon left and grabbed her phone. She clicked contacts. Sure enough, his name was second in her “frequently contacted” list, right below her therapist. That raised a whole new set of questions, but she could only take one mystery at a time. This was the only clue she had, so she figured there was nothing else to lose.

The phone rang. And rang. And rang. Dahlia sat up and tapped her fingers against the snowy hill of her kneecap.

“Hello?” a drowsy voice answered.

She cringed. Shit, did she wake him up? “Uh, hi, Gideon?”

“Oh, good morning, Dahlia,” Gideon replied. His voice was instantly perky and pleasant. “Are you feeling okay? I hope my cure did its job.”

“Yeah, yeah, worked like a charm. Thanks for that. I’m, uh, much better now.”

“Wonderful, wonderful. I figured you’d need it after all that wine.” He laughed, and his voice rang like tinkling bells in her ears. It was oddly familiar, and more oddly relaxing. “We’ll have to do that again sometime.”

“Yeah, for sure,” Dahlia said agreeably. “So, uh, speaking of, what exactly was that?”

Another chuckle. “Memory a bit lacking, I assume?”

Dahlia tensed. “More like completely lacking.”

“…Completely?”

“Uh, yeah. Completely.”

There was a long pause. Painfully long. The silence stretched like a rubber band primed for snapping. Dahlia nibbled at the corner of her lip.

“D-do you know who I am?” His voice cracked under the weight of its own horrified tone.

She shook her head, despite the pointlessness of the gesture in a phone conversation. “No, I’m sorry. That’s kind of why I called. I need answers and your number was my only lead.”

“I see.” Another pause. Some shuffling, a whoosh of sheets being tossed back. “I don’t think this is a conversation we should have over the phone. Would it be possible for me to come over this evening?”

Dahlia quirked an eyebrow. Curiosity bubbled where the headache had been.

“Dahlia?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. What time?”

Another pause. “I can come by around nine. Would that work for you?”

Dahlia shrugged. “Sure. I’m not doing anything.”

“Alright. Nine it is.”

“Do you need me to text you my address?” Dahlia asked, realizing she could’ve just texted him like a normal person instead of calling and waking him up. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“No, I remember where you are. I’ll text before I knock, okay?”

“Um, okay.” Weird, but okay. “See you tonight.”

“See you tonight.”

They hung up. Dahlia hunched over and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Where the nausea had been, unease took its place, plopped into her gut like brick, as she wondered what she’d mixed herself up in.

#

Dahlia had latched onto the stress ball her therapist gave her, but the little smiley face printed on it did nothing to reassure her. She had struggled to pick an outfit. She chewed through a whole pack of gum. She fidgeted and paced and fussed over cleaning the apartment up. Was she nervous about meeting this man she couldn’t remember? Was she nervous about what he knew? Did it matter? Either way, Dahlia was a tense bundle of nerves when the clock struck nine. She sat on the couch as she waited for his text.

A minute passed. Nothing.

Five minutes. Nothing.

Ten. Nothing.

Dahlia tapped her foot impatiently. “Where is this guy?”

Just as she asked, her phone buzzed.

Hey. I’m here. About to knock. Please don’t scream.

Well, that was the creepiest thing anyone had ever texted her. She clenched her stress ball so hard that the little smiley face caved in on itself. She dialed 911, the call button poised for pushing at any time. As she was comparing escape routes and rushing for the kitchen knives, the knock came. From her closet door.

“Good evening,” Gideon said. “Sorry for being late. Things took longer than expected. May I come in?”

Words dissolved on Dahlia’s tongue. She tried and failed to scrounge up logic. The way she saw it, there were two possibilities. Either she was hallucinating, and she had another mental illness to worry about, or something supernatural was going on. She had never prayed before, but she prayed it was door number two.

“Y-yeah, come in.”

Gideon stepped into her living room. A gasp wound down Dahlia’s throat as she took in the sight of him. Two curling horns stuck out of the stringy grey hair that fell to his shoulders. The eyes staring at her were painfully large, painfully blue orbs with reptilian slits in their centers. His skin was bluish grey, corpse skin. Even subtle things, like the number of knuckles in his fingers, and the way his skin stretched over the bones in his face, were unsettling and alien. It was almost comical in comparison to his clean plaid button-up and black slacks. A monster in business casual. She thought she could see something glowing in his pants pocket, but that barely registered when looking at everything else.

“Thank you for not screaming,” he said.

Scream? She could barely listen. The static of her own stressed thoughts made it hard to hear. Was this the onset of schizophrenia? Was this why her brain was full of holes? Was that symptom? Her feet began carrying her across the room in search of an answer. She crossed the span of carpet between them until she had him at arm’s length. Her hand reached out, almost of its own free will, and gently poked Gideon’s cheek. Warm, living flesh greeted her. She nearly collapsed with relief.

“Oh. Oh, thank God. I’m not crazy.”

Gideon chuckled weakly. There was a strange warmth in his eyes that made Dahlia’s stomach flip. “No, love, you’re not crazy. Never crazy.”

He reached up to cup his hand over hers, but Dahlia pulled away and stumbled back before he could. With the worries about her tenuous mental health soothed, Dahlia could now focus on the fact that a very real monster was standing in her living room trying to reassure her of her sanity. Amazingly, that wasn’t an easier pill to swallow. Dahlia plopped onto her couch and grasped at the cushions in leu of a stress ball. It was something solid and normal.  

Gideon looked more than a little hurt. He slowly put his arm down and shrank back. “R-right, you don’t remember me. I’m sorry.”

Dahlia put her head in her hands and pulled at the roots of her hair. “What the fuck,” she said, because it was the only thing her brain would let her say. “I- I don’t… what…”

“Overwhelmed?” Gideon asked.

Dahlia nodded. Thoughts were pouring out of her head and leaking onto her tongue. The overflow made it impossible to get a single coherent question out.

Gideon took a hesitant step forward. “Do you have your stress ball?”

Dahlia shook her head violently. She couldn’t even think about her lost stress ball right now. It was one thing too much.

Gideon chewed on his lip. “I know I’m kind of the reason you’re panicking right now, but I want to help. May I sit with you?”

Would that help? Probably not. Then again, nothing was making sense and there was a clog in her brain and the world was suddenly too bright, so she might as well try something. Dahlia gave him a weak, shaky nod to affirm. He was by her side not a moment later.

“Close your eyes for a moment, deep breaths,” Gideon said. His voice was suddenly much softer, but not exactly quiet. It was a gentle, soothing, like windchimes in a breeze. There was something comforting and familiar about it.

Dahlia closed her eyes. The world went mercifully dark. She laid back against the couch and began to take in slow, controlled breaths.

“Focus on something banal. Think about the texture of the couch. Or the carpet between your toes. I can get something from the kitchen if you want something to taste.”

Dahlia shook her head. “No, no. Just need quiet.”

“Quiet. I can do that.”

They sat together in silence as Dahlia let the static and chaos settle. She absorbed herself in the cool, textured leather of her sofa and sank against its plush backing. Her breathing steadied. Her head lolled to the side, and she relaxed.

“Better?” Gideon asked.

She nodded.

“Good. Now, I know this is a shock to you,” Gideon continued. “You have every right to be shocked. But I promise that everything is alright.”

Dahlia furrowed her brow. She was almost giving herself another headache trying to gaze into the holes where her memories should be. “I find that hard to believe.”

A sigh. “Fair enough. Okay, things aren’t alright yet, but they will be soon. That I definitely promise.”

“How can you promise that?”

“With these,” Gideon said. Dahlia heard the distinct scrape of skin on rough fabric, followed by a clacking noise. It sounded like hard candies knocking against each other. A new source of light danced in front of Dahlia’s closed eyes. Curious, she opened them.

“What the fuck.” The light was coming from a large cluster of glowing, electric blue orbs. They were about the size of marbles. “What are those?”

“Your missing memories.”

“…Okay then. Um, why are they in your hand and not, you know, in my head?”

“They were stolen. Thank the Gods you called when you did, otherwise I might not have been able to track them down.”

Dahlia’s eyes widened painfully. “Stolen? How? When? W-why?”

Gideon closed his fist around the memory orbs and held them close to his chest. His expression grew dark. “There are some people that think our worlds should remain separate. Someone stole every memory you had of our world, and of me, during my house party. Right under my fucking nose.” His voice was knife sharp and angry. Dahlia could tell he was directing it at himself just as much as he was the perpetrator. “It was pure luck and timing that allowed me to get them back.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dahlia said. A deep, profound dread crawled up her spine and settled on her shoulders. She imagined a set of spindly fingers reaching into her skull and plucking memories likes grapes from a synaptic vine. The mere thought sickened her to the soul.

“When I saw you’d passed out, I took you home. I thought you just had too much wine. I never suspected…” He lowered his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Dahlia.”

Dahlia put a comforting hand on his shoulder, almost instictually. Her horror of him had been surpassed and subdued. “No, don’t be. You got them back. Thank you.”

“Of course. You have a right to your memories,” he said. He glanced up at Dahlia, then back down at the memory orbs. There was a noticeable dark flush to his cheeks. “Besides, these are important to me too.”

Before Dahlia could comment, Gideon held out his hand, offering her the orbs. She cupped her hands and let the little balls trickle into her palms. They felt like gumballs. Dahlia estimated there were a hundred of them, if not more. Her vision was taken up by their collective glow.

“How do I…”

“You eat them.”

“What?” Dahlia snapped her head up.

“Eat them. Pop one in your mouth at a time and bite. The memory will come back to you.”

“Do I, like, eat them in chronological order?” Dahlia asked, bemused by the string of words that just came out of her mouth.

“No, no, just eat them as you like. You can’t tell the orbs apart anyways. As long you eat them all, you’ll be fine.”

Dahlia grimaced. “Is this safe?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t make a hobby of eating your own memories, of course, but there’s no harm in taking in information that already belongs to you,” he explained. “But if you ever feel unsafe, I’ll be right here to help.”

Dahlia looked over at him. His hollowed-out face had taken on an inviting, comforting demeanor. There was something very reassuring about the little smile that was playing across his lips.

“Who are you?” she asked. “To me? How do you know what I need to calm down?”

“Take a bite and find out.”

Dahlia turned back to her palm full of orbs. She picked one up from the pile and held it up to her mouth. She snuck a glance at Gideon, who nodded encouragingly. After a heavy, nervous gulp, Dahlia popped the orb into her mouth and maneuvered it between her back molars.

She bit down.

We were sitting next to each other at the counter that separated my kitchenette from the rest of my apartment. “So, where do monsters come from? I mean, aside from closets.”

He tapped his fingers against the counter. “It’s like a pocket dimension. We hide in the nooks and crannies of space-time, only popping out when necessary.”

“Is this necessary?” I teased. I nibbled a cookie from the small plate I’d set out.

“The cookies or your company?”

“Either or.”

He smiled. “Both are absolutely necessary.”  

“Whoa,” Dahlia breathed as the vision faded and settled back into its rightful spot in her head. Remembered happiness spread through her.

“What? What memory was it?”

“I was just talking with you over there.” She pointed to the counter. “You were telling me about where you came from.”

“Ah, yes, that was some time ago. We’d known each other for a few months. I’d just started to trust you,” he explained. His smile brightened. “Go on, have another.”

Dahlia snatched another orb up and bit into it.

#

Our lips met gingerly, hesitantly at first. Amazingly, I made the first move. We’d been passing sidelong glances and lingering hugs like the currency of pining. I needed to cash it in.

While we were watching our usual Friday night movie, I scooched close to him. Closer. Closer. He turned his head away from the screen and towards me. I leaned in. He leaned in.

Ginger, hesitant kisses deepened. His tongue dipped into my mouth. My hands snuck up his back. The movie was forgotten in the haze.

#

“Oh.” The memory nestled into its spot. Dahlia sank back into the couch. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so at ease when kissing someone. The slop of saliva and the bumping of teeth didn’t make her self-conscious. It was expected. It was okay. It was natural.  

“What memory was it?” Gideon asked.

Dahlia turned to Gideon like she was seeing him for the first time. In a way, she was. “We were making out while Monsters Inc. played in the background.”

Gideon blushed. “Oh, yes, that night.”

“Are you my boyfriend?”

“Would you be horrified if I said yes?”

Dahlia opened her mouth to answer. She closed it and knotted her eyebrows. Contextually vacant, the memory of their kiss brought a surge of conflicting feelings. The remembered happiness, and a fresh, squirming discomfort. The emotional paradox of sudden closeness with a stranger.  

She held up a finger in a wait sign and popped another orb into her mouth. Then another. And another. As soon as one memory faded, a new one was already waiting between her teeth. Flashes of dancing and love-making and cuddling and comforting found their spots in her head. Dahlia patched more and more holes, sewed memories to memories, feelings to feelings, creating a mostly cohesive quilt of past events. A few times she had to stop and catch her breath from the overload of information. But, eventually, the pile was reduced to a singular orb. Gideon watched with vigilant, silent eyes as Dahlia bit down on it.

#

We were curled up in my closet. Gideon knew I liked to be somewhere small and quiet after a breakdown. I’d been bashing my fists against my skull over something, though I couldn’t remember what. Reasons blurred together. With no emotional skin, I’m hurt by the slightest provocation. But in here it was safe, we were safe, and everything was okay.

“Why do you put up with me?” I asked. “I don’t even want to put up with me.”

“You’re under the assumption that you’re a burden. You’re not.”

I settled into his chest more. “But I’m sick, Gid. I don’t function right.”

“Maybe you need to change your definition of right, then.”

My lip quivered, and I wrapped my arms around him. “…I love you.”

#

Dahlia blinked. She was surprised to find tears on her cheeks. She looked over at Gideon, who was still waiting for her reply.

“No,” she said. “I wouldn’t be horrified at all.”

A bright, goofy grin spread across his face. “Then yes, I’m your boyfriend.”

She returned the grin with equal amounts of brightness and goofiness. “Good.”

FIN

[pandawritespoorly]

With Time: Chapter 5 - 2 Truths, 1 Lie, and Many Puns

Author’s Note: Hot off the presses! I typically have these finished a day or two before I post them to give me ample time to edit them, but I've had a busy last few days. I wanted to get this chapter done though so that I can get to the next one, so I powered through it. This is one of the longer ones (page-wise) though it's got a lot of dialogue (which isn't my strong suit).

Finally got them all posted.

Chapter summary: The Quantic kids and Adrien get to know each other.

First | Previous | Next

There is an awkward silence for a second. Those at the couch were not expecting Marinette’s reappearance and are not about to tell her what they had just been discussing.

Claude, ever the actor, is the first to recover, “We were about to get to know each other! All we know is each other’s names and that we all are friends with you! Do you have any ideas on games for that ‘Nette?”

Marinette pauses, thinking, “Um… I guess… Two truths one lie? Or never have I ever? Are those okay?”

“Ooh! I haven’t played those in a while! Okay, we all know how to do those right? We’ll start with two truths one lie, then we can move on to never have I ever. Does anyone have anything to add or that they’re worried about?” The group glances around at each other Allegra shakes her head slightly, but Adrien cautiously raises his hand.

Marinette notices, “Adrien?”

“I’ve never heard of either of those before. What are the rules? How long do they take?”

There is a shocked silence from the group, but Marinette just sighs,”Right, okay. Um, I can explain them. But, um, do you guys want to head to my room first?” With everyone looking at her now, she panics, backtracking, “Not that we have to! Of course! I just, um-”

“Sure thing, ‘Nette.” Allan offers her a calm smile, and everyone nods, standing to follow her into her room.

Marinette goes first, holding the trapdoor open. Adrien is next, plopping down nearby on her case. As the others entered, she grew anxious, she liked her room, but they probably thought it was dumb, so pink and probably very immature looking, they would hate it, they would hate he-

“Ooooooh! I love your room Marinette!” Claude sounds as excited as ever. He and the others are looking around her room. 

“I like it!” Allegra declares. She gestures toward the chaise, “Can I sit here?”

Marinette nods, and Allegra sits on one end of the chaise, Allan sits at the other end, cross-legged.

Felix sits, leaning against the side of the ladder leading to her bed, “It is certainly befitting of you.”

As Marinette sits against the case that Adrien is on she says, “Thanks. I’m glad you guys like it.”

Wheeling her desk chair to move it closer to his friends, Claude says, “Like it? I love it!” As if to emphasize his point, he spins in the chair, throwing his arms in the air.

“So, uh, how do we play these games?”

“We can explain them as we go. We’re starting with two truths and a lie, right?” Marinette pauses, double-checking. 

“Yep!” Claude is slowing now, looking faintly dizzy.

“Okay, so, um, it’s pretty straight-forward. We take turns listing three things. Two truths, one lie, and everyone has to try to guess the lie.”

Adrien nods. “Okay, that makes sense. Who’s going first?”

“I can.” Allegra raises her hand slightly, then pauses, thinking, “Um, let’s see… I play the flute, I have 3 siblings and I do calligraphy.

Claude excitedly opens his mouth to answer, but she raises her hand, cutting him off, “Nope, sorry Claude, but I think Adrien should answer first, then Marinette, then the rest of you. We’ve known each other longer and these are pretty simple starter ones. You’ll all know the answers.”

Claude gives an exaggerated ‘harumph’, but turns to Adrien, who is thinking.

“Umm, I think the lie is… the calligraphy?” 

Without a word, Allegra turns to Marinette, who is considering all of the statements. She knows the first one is undoubtedly true, as for the second and third… she isn’t as sure. Calligraphy is pretty specific, so that could go either way. Siblings… she knows Claude has three siblings, but Allegra only has two little brothers - at least to her knowledge, so, “Is it the, um, siblings?”

“Yep!” Claude and Allegra say in unison. She turns to him and he shrugs sheepishly, “Sorry ‘llegra. I just got excited.” She rolls her eyes.

“I have only two siblings, little brothers.”

Felix speaks up, “Perhaps to even this out, we should alternate between Adrien and Marinette having turns, and one of the four of us having turns. Otherwise there will be several rounds where many people know the answer.”

“Alright! I can go next.” Adrien thinks, “Okay. I play Ultimate Mecha Strike III, I take fencing, and do fashion design.”

“Fencing.”

“Ulimate Mecha Strike III”

“Fencing?”

“...you don’t do fashion design” Claude is the last to answer, but he seems the most certain of all of them.

Adrien nods, grinning, “Yep! As Mari here will be quick to tell you, I know nothing about designing clothing.”

“He really doesn’t”

If the others thought it odd that the heir to Gabriel Agreste’s company knew nothing about fashion design, they kept it to themselves. After a brief pause, Allan spoke up,”Let’s see… I bake, I have a little sister, and listen to Jagged Stone.”

“Is it the little sister?”

Marinette is pretty certain about Allan’s lie. She knows he has a little sister - she’s seen pictures - and is well aware that Allan is just as big a Jagged fan as Adrien as herself, so that leaves only one option. “I’m pretty sure you don’t bake… right?”

Allan nods, “Mhm. Pretty sure you’re the only baker here, ‘Nette.”

Claude claps his hands together excitedly, “Marinette’s turn!” Everyone turns to her.

“Oh!” Right. It was her turn now. Should she try to stump them? It could be fun to reach out to her more far-fetched interests, and come up with a more complex li- no. She would keep it simple. Her lies didn’t need to be big, only what was necessary. “Um… I knit, I love hamsters, and I’m a terrible runner.” 

It’s part of the game. Why do I feel bad about lying to them? It wasn’t like she was lying for the same reasons as Lila did, but the guilt still burned through her, a familiar feeling from all the excuses she made for her alter-ego.

“I think it’s the last one!” Claude is the first to speak, drawing her back.

“I’m with him.” Allan jerks his thumb at Claude, and Felix nods.

“Same here. I mean, have you seen her when she’s running late? She looks like she’s an aspiring olympian!”

Adrien laughs, “It is impressive.”

Marinette nods, and Claude cheers before turning to Felix, “Felix! Your turn!”

“Alright. I do calligraphy, I have a dog, and I enjoy poetry.”

“You don’t have a dog do you?”

Marinette nods in agreement, Felix does not have a dog- to her knowledge.

“Indeed. However, I do have a cat, his name is Pluto.”

“ Felix , that was so easy .” Claude whined, “You gotta’ challenge him! I’ll go next, because I haven’t gone yet, and I shall be challenging!” 

Allan raised an eyebrow at him, and Claude concedes, “Okay, not that challenging. Here we go! I am a thespian, I have a golden retriever, and I do origami.”

This was easy - for Marinette at least-  Adrien, on the other hand, “Uhh, definitely not the first one… the origami?” He didn’t seem certain.

“Nope! I lamentably lack a pupper pal in my life. It’s tragic .”

Allan and Felix both give him a look. The latter says, “Claude. You do not have space for a dog. Not only that, but your father is allergic.”

“But it’s so ruff without a doggo in my life.”

After the proper groans and eyerolls from most of the group, Claude shouted, “Speed round! Allegra go!”

“What?”

“List three things, quick go! Then Adrien will guess, you’ll correct him if necessary, then we move on in the same order, going as fast as we can! Speed bonding! Go!”

“Alright, fine. Bullet journaling, I used to do gymnastics, and ballet when I was little.”

“Ballet!”

“Nope, gymnastics, your turn.”

“Um,  I understand Morse code, I speak chinese, and I play the violin.”

“...Morse code?” Allegra is cautious, Allan nods in agreement, and after a moment so does Felix.

Claude on the other hand, confidently declares,”You don’t play the violin!”

“Yep! I do piano.”

“Okay, so it’s my turn now?” Allan speaks,“Well lets see, I’ve got a goldfish, I cook, and I cosplay.”

“Goldfish?”

“Nah, I don’t cosplay, that’s more Claude’s thing, if any of us.” The boy in question grins.

“Okay, um, my turn now?” Marinette thinks, “I have a fear of wasps, I do embroidery, and I love horror movies.”

She seems to have managed to stump most of them, except for Adrien who, after spending a good amount of time with her over the summer, knows the red herring. Claude seems fairly confident, but again waits for the others, who agree on the wasps being the lie.

“I disagree with my friends here, I believe the lie to be the horror movies!” Claude is once again correct and does a victory spin in his chair at Marinette’s nod.

“So, wasps, huh? Get a scare when you were little or sumthin’?”

Marinette hesitates at Allan’s question. What is she supposed to tell him, that her magical earrings make her feel like the wasps are going to eat her? As if . She feels the guilt bubble up again as she lies, “Yeah, uh, something like that.”

“Felix go! Remember, this is a speed round!”

“Hmm. Okay, I know the meaning of many common flowers, I prefer nonfiction books, and I am an only child.”

“The flowers?” At Adrien’s incorrect response, Felix gives a small smile. 

“Actually, I prefer fiction books.”

“Aaaaaand now it’s my turn! Okay! I have two brothers, I am the youngest and I know the passwords of two other people’s phones in this room.”

For whatever reason, Allegra groans at that. Adrien seems to miss that, as he says,”the passwords?”

“Nope! I have two sisters, and one brother.”

The game continues for a few more rounds, Adrien and Marinette can’t help but notice that Claude gets every one right. Finally, Adrien caves,”Claude, how are you so good at this?”

Claude smiles mischievously,”I have become very good at reading people. Facial expressions are a good thing to be familiar with - especially when you can’t speak.” at Adrien’s confused look he adds, “I act, but I also do a lot of miming.”

Eventually, the game ends when Adrien says,“I have never told a bad pun, I can speak Japanese, and I’m a morning person.

“Adrien.” Marinette said flatly, “You’re only supposed to tell one lie.”

“I did.”

“I believe him Mari. There is no such thing as a bad pun!”

Marinette shakes her head, “That’s where you’re wrong.”

“We’ll just have to prove it to her then! Guys, I’m putting the game on hold, Adrien and I must do a pun-off! Dad jokes are acceptable as well.”

“I like the sound of that!”

Other than Adrien and Claude, only Allan seems to be enjoying this. The other three are rolling their eyes and groaning in preparation for what’s about to happen.

“The new clock was the tock of the town.”

“What do you call a fish with no eyes? A fsh!”

“Lumber companies have many board meetings!”

“Shepards are sheepish people who don’t like staff meetings!”

“What do you call someone with no body and no nose? Nobody knows!”

“Hey, do you know why a nose can’t be 12 inches long

“No, I do not. Why can’t a nose be 12 inches long?”

“Because then it would be a foot!”

“Of course! Hey, I decided to sell my vacuum cleaner - it was just gathering dust.”

“What do you call an elephant that doesn’t matter? An irrelephant.”

“What do you call a pampered cow? Spoiled milk!”

“The first carpenter to sail around the world took his screw with him.”

“A comedian stopped at a fabric store on his way to a gig - he was looking for new material!”

“If I had a nickel for every bread pun, I'd have a pun per nickel.”

“Some puns are so corny they hurt your ear.”

“Seven days without a pun makes one weak.”

“Wanna’ hear a joke about paper? Nevermind - it’s tearable.”

Claude holds up a broken pencil from Marinette’s desk, “Hey, Adrien, want to borrow a pencil?” He glances at it,”Nevermind, it’s pointless.”

This is the last straw. Marinette starts laughing, at first she tries to cover it up, but is unsuccessful - her glee overtaking her. Adrien looks over to her in surprise, then his face softens and he laughs with her.

Allegra smiles,”Felix, I think we’re the only ones here with a normal sense of humor.”

“Indeed”

Claude looks delighted, in between his own laughter he throws his arms in the air and proclaims, “I have won the pun-off!”

Marinette’s laughter eventually dies down, but a trace of a smile remains on her face as she asks, “Okay, what’s next? Do we want to continue ‘Two Truths One Lie’, or do we want to move on to ‘Never Have I Ever’? Or, um, if you guys wanted to do something else…?”

“‘Never Have I Ever’ works for me!”

“Alright.” Marinette turns to Adrien, “So, um, there’s a few ways to play this one? It can vary depending on who you ask? But I don’t know what rules you guys play by…?”

“I do not recall when I last played this game, however, considering our purpose is to get to know each other, we could simply move in a circle and list things we have never  done before.”

“And then! If you have done it we can hear your cool story!” Claude excitedly adds onto Felix’s suggestion. “I’ll start! Never have I ever… been outside of France.”

“Really?”

“Yep! Never left!”

“Well it looks like you’re the only one Claude…” Allegra comments, “I’ve been to England.”

“As have I.” Felix adds.

“I’ve got family in Canada.” Allan looks to Adrien and Marinette, “What about you two?”

“Uh, I’ve been to China a few times? For, um, family.”

“I’ve had photoshoots and fashion shows in other countries before, but Father has me there for work, so I never really get a chance to look around or explore.” he shrugs, “But I can typically see some landmarks, so it’s not all bad.”

“That sucks dude,” Allan looks at Adrien sympathetically, “Your Pops should really lighten up on ya’.” It’s such a Nino thing to say, Adrien and Marinette share a look that the others can’t quite decipher.

“Allegra, your turn!” Claude startles them out of their thoughts.

“Why me?”

“Because you were first in the last game, and we should probably follow the same order.” he shrugs.

“Right. Me then. Okay, never have I ever… had a cat.” 

Marinette and Claude raise their hands in agreement. He pouts dramatically though, mumbling something about allergies. Adrien looks down at his overshirt in an annoyed manner, and Marinette hears something that sounds like ‘lag’.

“Uh, we live in a bakery, so pets are kind of a no go…”

“Obviously I have Pluto.” Felix hold up his phone, displaying an all black cat with green eyes.

“We had one when I was little.” Allan says, “I’ve only got some blurry memories.”

“Uhh, same here! It wasn’t very well behaved though… it also got into our cheese a lot .” Adrien says the last part as though directing it at someone in particular, the others were confused, as was Marinette. She wondered if Adrien was still mad at the cat about the whole cheese-stealing thing. In the time the two had really known each other, Adrien always seemed to have Camembert on him. Maybe it was a habit he formed to protect it from the cat. Strange, but whatever, she wouldn’t judge.

“Uh, anyways! Is it my turn?” At the others’ confirmations Adrien nodded, thinking, “Okay, so never have I ever been to an amusement park.”

“Really?!” Claude seems horrified, “Even our resident grump has been to an amusement park!” Felix rolls his eyes at the moniker.

“I take it I’m the only one then?”

“I’ve been to one, though not for a while because of-” Marinette cuts herself off, because again, she can’t just say ‘because I’m Ladybug’, adding a (hopefully) nonchalant shrug she continues, “it’s just been a while.”

The others are seemingly too distracted to question her slip-up, Allan questions Adrien first,”So why not? Ya’ not like heights or sumthin’?”

“Father says that I must maintain ‘a prestigious image’ at all times, and that amusement parks and their attractions ‘do not allow for me to adhere to such a standard’.”

“I don’t think I like your father…” Allegra has the same face she did when she saw Marinette’s bruise, and Marinette still hasn’t figured out what it means, having only seen it twice now. Is it bad? It looks bad, it probably means Marinette messed up, though she isn’t sure how she managed it this time around.

“It’s fine, I’m pretty used to it anyways-” he is cut off by Allan.

“That really doesn’t make it any better…”

Adrien laughs dryly,”You sound like Ni-” he cuts off abruptly, glancing at Marinette who has stiffened almost imperceptibly, he puts an arm on her shoulder gently, trying to draw her back. “-one of my other friends.” He says the last word like he isn’t sure of it.

The whole interaction was short, honestly rather quick, but certainly didn’t go unnoticed by the other four. They cataloged it in the back of their minds, they may discuss this later. They tried to keep track of things that seemed to upset Marinette. While they may not know quite what happened, they still didn’t want to upset her and did their best to avoid things they thought might… remind her of whatever it was.

The game moved on and they made it through several rounds before Claude says,”Never have I ever met Ladybug!”

Adrien immediately lights up, “I have! She’s so cool!” No one notices Marinette’s light blush at this. She’s heard Adrien rave about her alter-ego before, but compliments will always fluster her.

“So have I, or at least I’ve seen ‘er in person.” Allan’s comment surprises Marinette. “Happened to be around near the end of an attack.”

When did that happen? Did she honestly miss one of her few fri- one of the few people she knew at an akuma attack? She was supposed to protect them, not miss them! What kind of a hero was she?

“Lucky! I’ve never seen her except on the news and stuff.” Allegra interjects, and Felix nods in agreement.

“Same here.” Marinette shakes herself out her self-critiquing. At her comment Adrien looks confused. 

“Yeah you have!” Now Marinette is confused… what? He continues,”Remember when A- Timebreaker? When there were two Ladybugs and two akumas?”

Oh. Huh, she’d forgotten that Marinette and Ladybug had both been spotted together before. Thank you Adrien for that, it could be handy for protecting her identity in the future.

“Oh… yeah, I forgot about that.”

“How do you forget meeting Ladybug? ” Claude seems appalled.

“Well, we didn’t really meet. Also, um, I like Chat Noir better.” It was only natural, he was the better hero after all. Paris only favored Ladybug for her ability to clean up the damage.

Adrien’s face lit up even more, but he didn’t add anything.

Claude nodded, satisfied, “True, he’s pretty cool.”

The group continued to discuss (or gush in some cases) the two main heroes. Suddenly, Adrien’s phone beeped, and after glancing at it, he sighed. Marinette knew that face.

“Sorry guys, I have to go. Father is having me practice extra piano for a musical competition that’s in April.”

Allegra frowned at this, her face seeming to begin to stray towards that expression, though her voice betrays nothing as she asks, “Concours d'arts musicaux?”

“That’s the one.”

“I hope to participate too. I wish you the best of luck.”

“You too!” Adrien leaves and everyone settles back into their spots.

“So what should we do now?” Claude is spinning in the chair again.

“Homework.” Felix and Allan speak in unison, and Claude groans dramatically, but nevertheless plops down on the floor to begin work. After an hour or two, Felix glances at his watch.

“It may be best if we head to our own homes now. It is rather late and we would not want to intrude.”

Allan frowned, “It’s not that la-” he glanced at the time,”Nevermind, we should be going.”

Marinette nods and helps them pack up their stuff. As they head outside, her parents stop them.

“Oh, Marinette, are your friends going home?” her Maman asks as she finishes ringing up a customer. At her daughter’s nod, the woman says, “Wait one moment dears.” She heads into the back.

She emerges with four bags presumably filled with various pastries. “For you.” She distributes the bags to Marinette’s new friends, “ Thank you.”

“Ma’am, this isn’t necessary, at least allow us to pay.” Allegra is the first to recover from the surprise, but Sabine isn’t having any of it.

“No payment is necessary. Especially for you four, and any friends of our daughter.”

“... Uh, well thank you.” Claude and the rest give various thanks to the woman, who shakes her head again.

“No. Thank you. ” She turns and goes back to tending to customers. Marinette walks the rest of them out, and they say their final goodbyes as they head in their respective directions.

Marinette headed back to her room and lays down on her bed. She and Tikki talk for a little bit, but Marinette is exhausted mentally - today was quite the day - and she wants a moment to just think. After about 10 minutes she’s about to get up when her phone goes off. Glancing at it she sighs.

  Akuma Alert:

Type 1

Eiffel Tower

More information and updates available.

  “Tikki, spots on!”

---

Author’s Note: For anyone that's wondering, "Concours d'arts musicaux" is French for "Competition of Musical Arts" (according to Google Traslate, I don't know French).Some of the puns probably make more sense for an American setting, forgive me.Next chapter we've got our first akuma attack - at least the first one that we actually see. It's pretty clear how Marinette has been dealing with (and how she was affected by) the whole incident, but how is Ladybug doing? That should be the focus of the next chapter (hopefully).

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[aquilamage]

time for more random farafey! This is set vaguely in my au with Kay & Seb as PIs in a small town area with weird magic-supernatural stuff going on. It's not that relevant though and the scene kind of came to me without much context but it's cute so I'm sharing it.

“…I think there’s a piece missing.” Maya turned the jar around to show a jagged edge along the lip.

Sitting with her legs out on either side, knees bent, Kay leaned forward to put her hands on the top of her feet. “Are you sure?”

A deep sigh. “I’ve had to look at this thing for years. Trust me.” Setting the urn carefully down next to her, she pushed herself off the floor. “Knew there was gonna be a piece under that map.”

“Oh, let me get it.”

“I couldn’t make you…” But Kay had already moved, so she just dropped her hand back to her side.

Kay dragged herself forward on her stomach to search the middle underneath of the table. “It’s fine!” Fumbling in her pocket for her phone to get a light, she immediately banged her elbow on the low underside of the display table.

“Careful!” Maya checked the inside of the table under the flat layer of glass, but the scale model of Kurain was still perfectly intact. They’d already had enough of a time fixing one display this evening.

A moment of shuffling, and then Kay emerged holding a blue shard of clay. “Got it!” She shook the front of her shirt off. “Surprisingly not as dusty as you’d think down there.”

“They- …We” she rolled her eyes, “have a pretty strict policy about keeping everything clean.” As she reached to take the last piece of the urn, her hand brushed against Kay’s. Her body let out the tiniest gasp at the brief warmth, and just as quickly it was over. For a moment, her mind was a blank, a weird numbness where she wasn’t even realized she was spaced out. Then her attention slowly faded back in and she noticed both of them were staring at the inch or so of empty space now separating their hands. At that moment, they simultaneously realized what they were doing and quickly turned away. “I should put this back.” She waved the piece around as if it weren’t obvious what she was talking about.

“Yeah.” Kay went back to dusting herself off. Even as Maya completed the final touches of fixing the urn, she hung back and watched. At this point she really didn’t have an excuse to stick around. She should just excuse herself and head out, but…

Maya gestured to the finished piece with both hands and a shrug. “How’s this?”

She pretended to examine it like a collector, squinting intensely, a hand on her chin. “Rub some dust on the inside of the display case and no one’ll know the difference.”

A laugh. After they’d safely transported the urn back to its proper location, she ran a hand through her bangs as her gaze darted towards and away from the other woman from fear of being caught staring again. “Thanks for staying to help,” she said, softly.

“I wasn’t going to let you have to do it alone.” It had obviously been a decision she’d made, but she’d never really considered doing anything else. For several reasons. Some of which were pretty selfish, but Kay tried to ignore those right now as rude, especially given the context.

Maya thought to protest that Kay hadn’t been the one who had broken it, but knew the easy answer was that it hadn’t been her either. Besides, once she thought about it, she didn’t know why she was being so insistent about what boiled down to retroactively trying to get rid of the other. She liked spending time with Kay (even if it did come at the expense of having to deal with obnoxious tourists who insisted on coming to the museum fifteen minutes before close). So instead, she traced her fingertips across the surface of the front desk. “I still appreciate it.” Pause. Impulsively, she added something in the vein of things she’d been wanting to say for a while now. “Let me walk you back to your car.”

She looked up from the pamphlets she’d been idly playing with. “Nah, it’s not that far.” Tilting her head, eyes shut, she crossed her arms. “Besides, I don’t want to keep you at work longer than you’ve already had to be.”

Something clicked for her. Maya had stopped thinking about this as ‘work’ once she’d locked up, and more as ‘oh god I have to fix this or Aunt Morgan’s gonna kill me (oh well at least I get to spend time with the cute PI who sometimes comes into town).’ But if Kay had still been thinking of it like that…

Was she really being evasive and sometimes backtracking on what she’d said because she was worried about bothering Maya while she was working (even though Maya thought she hadn’t been that subtle in trying to flirt with her)? Maya desperately hoped so. It was actually really cute. Not to mention that it put a lot of things in perspective, especially the first time they’d encountered each other. The Faradays had been there all of five minutes before ducking behind one of the taller shelves to have a hurried conversation, which had ended with Kay pushing Sebastian out towards the desk to go talk to her.

Well, guess she’d just have to find out. “Give me a minute.” And before Kay could say anything, she dashed into the back area.

Kay had to tamp down her reaction when Maya came back a few minutes later. It was only a t shirt half tucked into high-waisted shorts, but she still looked really cute in that outfit.

She hefted her bag over her shoulders. “There. I’m officially clocked out, so now I can officially ask to accompany you on my own time, because I’d like to.”

“Well,” this time, Kay didn’t bother to hide the excited grin. “Who am I to refuse a lady?”

Maya giggled and, offering her arm, led them out of the museum.

It was a comfortably warm summer evening. As they walked down the path, the lights in the trees lent just a touch of something ethereal. They didn’t talk until reaching the edge of the parking lot, both content with the bit of extra time they were spending together.

As they separated, Kay gave Maya’s arm a tiny squeeze. “I’ll see you later, then?”

She nodded. “Maybe you can show up sometime when neither of us is working.” Maya was perfectly satisfied with how this had gone, but if she could nudge things towards more in the future, she certainly wasn’t going to miss the opportunity.

There was a light in her eyes that told Maya she made the right call. Kay put a hand to the edge of her scarf, striking a bit of a pose. “Yeah!”

Now for the last, only slightly more planned-out bit. She stuck a hand in her pocket. “Oh, I…have something for you.” Pulling out a oddly shaped gold pendant on a chain, she held it in front of them. “It’s called a magatama. They’re supposed to have magical properties and protect the wearer.”

“Is that something you’re allowed to just give people? Seems a bit special for that.”

“Nah.” She held it over for Kay to take. “That’s what these small ones are for.” Her heart went through some interesting tumbles watching Kay immediately go to put it on. Slightly disconcerting, but nice. It also had the side effect of distracting her from what she was going to add on until after the magatama was safely secured around Kay’s neck. Now it was her stomach’s turn to twist, accented by a lightness in her head. Asking her to take it off right away wasn’t really on the menu, and the next option was bold, but hey. It’d worked out pretty well for her so far. She reached out and took the magatama in her hand. Allowing herself the first hint of a teasing smile. “Besides, it’s not magic yet. Supposedly.”

Kay watched her with a genuine interest that was either a result of belief that this was all possible or a willingness to pay attention to anything because it was Maya doing one talking, Maya couldn’t tell. Either way, she nodded for her to continue.

In order to do this next part, she had to step forward, bringing the two of them less than a foot from each other now. She could see a faint scar running below Kay’s mouth and wow her eyes were a stunningly bright green how had she never noticed that before. “To actually work, it has to be charged by someone with spiritual powers…” Attempting to keep her hand from shaking as much as possible, she held the magatama up to her face and gently kissed it.

That probably wasn’t how charging it was supposed to work, but no one had ever told her how it was actually done. Not that it mattered, because none of this was a real thing anyway. The real point was that Maya was trying to make a gesture. And judging from the wide-eyed look Kay was giving, it definitely worked. “There,” she said, letting the magatama gently drop. “That should do it.”

“Thank you.” Kay’s voice was soft, as were her eyes as she watched Maya step away. A hand went to touch the jewel, fingertips resting on the spot. “I’ll make sure to wear it when I’m out investigating. You know, to keep me safe.” She gave a lopsided smile.

Maya found herself wishing she was back inside, where she could at least lean against the desk to hide her shaky legs. Instead, she clasped her hands together and nodded. “Of course!” At least her voice was steady. More enthusiastic than normal for even her, but that was accurate to her feelings right now anyway, so it was fine.

The smile deepened. “See you. Maya.” The name was pronounced almost imperceptibly slower, just a bit more care allocated to it. With the same graceful force as she always seemed to move, Kay turned and walked over to her car.

It was with only a little bit of giddy satisfaction that Maya watched Kay fumble getting the door open when she looked back at her one last time.

[bootycap]

matt/foggy: where the lovelight gleams words: ~1800 summary: yet another mistletoe fic! read below or on ao3 (this is honestly just an extension of this ask/answer but here it is anyway)

There was a man at the coffee shop wearing a truly incredible purple suit. Foggy is in the middle of describing the exact shade to Matt (a rich, shimmering amethyst affair) when he opens the door to their office and stops mid-sentence. It’s abrupt enough to catch Matt off guard, making him walk right into Foggy.

“Uh.” Matt says, taking a step back.

“Looks like one of Santa’s elves stopped by our office last night,” Foggy says.

Matt sidles by him through the doorway and stands there, head tilted.

“Huh,” he says. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say that the elf’s name is Karen.”

It turns out that when no one is actively trying to kill the founding members of Nelson, Murdock and Page, and when none of them are hiding life altering secrets from one another, Karen absolutely loves Christmas. To a startling degree. Like, pulling out the ugly Christmas sweaters on Black Friday and wearing them proudly type of love.

(Foggy asks her about it. Her vague answer about having a family to celebrate with again breaks his heart.)

And now, the office of Nelson, Murdock and Page looks like it belongs in the North Pole rather than Hell’s Kitchen. There are lights wrapped around every window, garland draped across all of their desks, and even a three-foot tall Santa in the corner of the room.

Matt wrinkles his nose.

“Is that—mistletoe?” He asks.

Foggy looks up, and then around.

“Wow. That is indeed mistletoe… and it is pretty much everywhere.”

Matt hums in reply but heads over to his desk all the same.

Foggy expects that one of them will have to navigate around an awkward mistletoe encounter by the end of the day but... It’s weird, because, for as small as their new office is, no one seems to actually end up underneath one of the many sprigs with anyone else for over a week.

It’s evening and Foggy and Matt are working late. It’s not really out of necessity, they don’t have anything that would require the long hours, but it’s an easy way for them to re-acclimate to each other. They’re still working on smoothing out rough edges and navigating around jagged scars and sometimes it’s easier to deal with all of their mutual baggage in a space that’s relatively free of it.

Foggy knows that Matt will be heading out in his costume later, but he also knows that there’s no real purpose behind tonight’s patrol besides Matt’s love of his city. Matt’s missing the anxious air he sometimes get, the one that Foggy can feel from across the office, like Matt might be vibrating out of his skin. The feeling is like nails on a chalkboard to Foggy. It sets his teeth on edge and settles in an uncomfortable weight around his heart.

It’s a little frightening, he thinks, this sudden insight into Matt’s other life. To know that tonight he’ll be the watchful protector and not the predator stalking its prey… or worse, the man hunting his own demons; leaving him beaten and broken in the aftermath.

It gives Foggy an odd sense of peace.

When it’s too late for either of them to pretend to get any legitimate work done, they start bundling up, preparing to head out into the snow. They’re both by the door, Foggy’s still laughing over the avocados dwarfed by giant bows that Karen left for them when Matt backtracks to his desk.

Foggy idly follows him, watching as Matt grabs the scarf off the back of his chair and starts winding it around his neck. When he throws one end over his shoulder, movement above them catches Foggy’s attention. He looks up.

“Oh,” Foggy says.

“What’s that?” Matt mumbles. He’s using his teeth to hold one of his gloves as he puts the other on.

Foggy points up, knowing Matt will catch the gesture. Matt stills.

“I’m surprised it took so long for this to happen,” Foggy says. “She must have hung at least four bunches.”

“Five, actually,” Matt adds.

“Oh,” Foggy says again. “Well—lucky we’re by ourselves then.”

“Why’s that?” Matt asks, tilting his head.

“You—well, we really don’t have to… do anything. There’s no one here to hold us accountable.”

“Well,” Matt says, looking uncomfortable. “Besides ourselves, you mean.”

Of course Matt would find a way to feel guilty about avoiding a mistletoe kiss.

“You know what I mean,” Foggy says.

They both stand in uncomfortable silence.

“I feel like she might just… know.” Matt says. “That’s weird, isn’t it?”

Foggy thinks about Karen, the human embodiment of Christmas spirit. He looks at her desk with the shiny nameplate that proclaims her a ‘Private Investigator’. His eyes catch on the way Matt is biting his lip, just enough to make the bottom one a little uneven.

“No,” Foggy agrees carefully. “Not weird. She does seem like she might have some freaky holiday senses.”

“Right,” Matt nods. “Exactly.”

“So we—we should probably—” Foggy says.

“Yeah—we should definitely—” Matt says and takes a step, crowding into Foggy’s space.

Foggy’s not sure what to do next. Kissing his best friend isn’t exactly something that's never occurred to him, but it’s also something that he never thought he would be faced with in reality. A thousand thoughts take up space in his head and he finds himself momentarily frozen in indecision.

Luckily enough, Foggy has Matt. Wonderful, beautiful Matt who is taking the initiative and leaning in, inches away from Foggy’s face.

There is a moment, right before the kiss, where Foggy is pretty sure his entire world stops. His heart, his lungs, even his mind—every one of the thousand thoughts from before just slip right through his grasp until he’s a blank slate.

And then, Matt’s lips touch his. It’s a simple, completely acceptable under-the-mistletoe kiss between friends but Foggy’s world explodes back into a life full of Matt. Matt’s smell, Matt’s taste, the warmth of Matt standing inches in front of him—the way Matt’s lips seem to fit perfectly with Foggy’s.

Foggy’s heart stampedes in his chest and he wonders if Matt is listening to it, because instead of pulling back, Matt crowds him further, his body pressing into Foggy’s, his gloved hand coming up to cup Foggy’s cheek, the leather soft and warm against Foggy’s skin.

Foggy slides his hands under Matt’s open coat and Matt shudders in response. Foggy tilts his head and darts his tongue out to trace the seam of Matt’s lips. Matt makes a wounded noise and opens his mouth to meet Foggy’s tongue with his own.

The kiss takes on new life after that, Foggy’s hands roam across the musculature of Matt’s back as they devour each other right there in the middle of their office. Foggy hopes that whatever is left of them after this kiss can handle the fallout.

Eventually, the hand on Foggy’s cheek moves down to his neck and follows the path of his shoulder down to his arm. As it travels, Matt mouth slows until they’re exchanging small, soft closed-mouth kisses before pulling away completely, staying close enough to rest his forehead against Foggy’s.

They’re both out of breath and Matt’s got one hand on Foggy’s waist and one hand is… well, it’s holding Foggy’s.

“Oh,” Matt says quietly.

“Yeah,” Foggy agrees.

They both stand there, just catching their breath for a few more seconds, before Matt takes a step back.

“We should—” He starts.

“Yeah—yeah. That’s probably a good idea,” Foggy says.

Matt walks Foggy home and while they’re both a little subdued, only exchanging a few words here and there, Foggy’s surprised that it’s not awkward at all. The silence that stretches between them is companionable, like they’re both happy enough just existing in each other’s presence.

They say goodnight at the door to Foggy’s building and Foggy finds he can’t stop touching his lips as he makes his way up the stairs to his apartment.

By the time he’s making his way to bed, he feels like the entire thing was just a dream.

At the very least, tomorrow should be interesting.

It’s weird how not-weird it is. For the most part, they go about their business as usual. Matt seems a little more thoughtful, a little more prone to silence than normal, but Foggy can’t blame him. He keeps finding himself distracted by the way Matt licks his lips before speaking.

Foggy’s sitting at the conference table to give himself more space to spread out his papers, working through his client's connections, when Matt walks over and sits on the edge to ask him about lunch.

“Oh!”

They both jump at Karen's voice.

“What? What happened?” Foggy asks, concerned.

She’s grinning widely and pointing above them. Foggy looks up and sees the mistletoe hanging above him and then he looks at Matt. Matt smiles and shrugs and leans down and presses a chaste kiss to Foggy’s lips before sitting back up and asking for everyone’s order before he heads to the Indian place down the block.

Karen smiles the entire time she recites hers. Foggy has to keep his face turned away so she won't see his.

After that, it’s like the floodgates open. Matt and Foggy somehow find themselves under the mistletoe together at least once a day. Karen’s always around so there’s none of the passion from their first kiss but it’s still...interesting. Foggy’s heart always races when it happens and judging from the smug and pleased look on Matt’s face, he’s definitely listening.

Foggy doesn’t fail to notice that Matt seems to hang out under the various sprigs of mistletoe with unusual regularity, either.

Foggy doesn’t say anything about it, because he’d hate to be a hypocrite.

(He memorized the location of every single sprig the morning after their first kiss.)

Friday afternoon, Matt is at Foggy’s desk talking about their case when he walks across the office to grab a file. Foggy’s been sitting too long and desperately needs to stretch, so he stands and follows Matt. They’re just finishing up the conversation when Karen walks back in, shucking her coat. She glances over at them and then smiles.

“Ahem,” she says.

In a pavlovian response to the sound, Foggy looks up.

“Again?” Matt laughs.

Foggy shrugs and gives Matt a soft kiss. Karen makes a small, happy noise before heading to the kitchenette to grab a cup of coffee.

Foggy starts to head back to his own desk when Matt catches his wrist briefly.

“Hey, Fog,” he says, quietly and a little intense.

“What’s up?”

Matt hesitates. Then inhales.

“Come over tonight?” He asks.

“You don’t, you know, have plans?” Foggy puts his fists against his temples and sticks out his pointer fingers.

Matt shakes his head and laughs, the sound of it warming Foggy’s chest.

“No, not tonight. Come over?” He asks again.

It's really not even a question for Foggy.

“Yeah, okay,” he says.

Matt’s apartment contains a distinct lack of mistletoe, but it turns out they both end up feeling the holiday spirit nevertheless.

[wildasthewindis]

alice & jasper one shot

1948. 131 Days In.

She had only been trying to help.

I shouldn't be so angry, so why was I? She was just trying to prepare me for what was coming. I shouldn't have snapped at her, let alone left. But I still felt the way my chest was rising and falling, my irritation making my breathing quicken. Breathing wasn't necessary and my reaction hadn't been either.

"Don't even look at them, Jazz. It won't do you any good."

"I know." I had said quietly, already not liking her tone. Methodical and pretentious, like she was talking to a child.

"If we can make it through the lobby, we should be fine."

"Don't you mean I'll be fine?" I said.

Alice's eyebrows pulled together slightly. "Of course not." Though I could tell that she was confused at my question and not irritated, it annoyed me all the same.

"You don't seem to be so worried about yourself." I said, hating the way my voice sounded. It was like I was challenging her. I was older than her by decades, there was no need to belittle me. I was no coward and I certainly wasn't a fool. I had led armies once, now I was being coddled?

"You're not the only one who struggles, Jazz." She said, too calm.

"I'm the only won who loses the fight. Always."

"That's not true. I've just -"

"Had more practice? More experience? Well forgive me, but I'm not really in the mood for your rehabilitation program today."

There it was, the pang of hurt that crossed Alice's face. It hurt me too when I felt it, but my own anger won in the moment. I left while she called my name. I kept walking right through the lobby, fueled by pride and indignation.

"You weren't angry at her." I said to myself now. It was me. I wanted to have already perfected what came more easily to her. Why shouldn't it be easier for her? She hadn't had the past I did, she can't even remember her own. I felt disgust for my anger immediately. Pride or stupidity or both, it all had been mistake. I had only been angry at myself and taken it out on one person who wanted to help. Alice, who I was growing to so desperately need.

Would she need more time? I could imagine her being angry more than hurt now, as well she should. How would I make it right? I would tell her the truth, that it had been me that was the problem, that she had nothing to do with it. Maybe I would take my time back to the hotel, to give her a moment. Alice had picked it because of how close it was to the state park. In my anger I had gone miles farther in the forest than I intended.

I heard something, someone was coming here.

Alice.

It was something I could never explain, the level of clarity in which I saw her. Her panic flooded my senses and made my everything sharper. Her porcelain face practically glowed against the cracked light that came through the trees. The jagged wisps of hair that framed her face made her look even more unearthly. Those eyes...bright gold and wide, they caught my attention. The level of adrenaline I could feel radiating off of her...she was in a type of frenzy I had never seen her in.

"Jasper!" She said, her eyes wide with panic. She fought her emotions through every word. "T-two nomads are coming here and I can't fight them off by myself. I-I need help!"

I gripped her shoulders, trying to get a hold on her emotions as well as her shaking body.

"Look at me Alice, right at me. I'm here now." I paused, waiting for her to fix her gaze on my eyes. I did that for her, but also for me. When she focused on me, when her eyes were on me, I felt more at ease too. Steady now...steady...I began to suppress her fear.

"I'm here now." I repeated, my hand grazing her cheek. "So what does the future look like?"

She shook her head frantically. "I don't want to look. I-" Then her eyes went out of focus.

There wasn't much I understood about Alice's power yet. Sometimes the future would come to her whether she attempted to see it or not, like an instinct she couldn't fight. I assumed that was just what happened.

"We're going to make it." She said, blinking. "I don't know the details yet, but we're going to make it."

My hand felt drawn to her. I couldn't fight the urge to keep my thumb from tracing the rise of her cheek bone again. "Why would you think we wouldn't? You've seen our future in the long run."

"It just felt...real. The first vision was different. It could be fueled by anything. It was in flashes. I don't know."

"I understand."

I felt her tense up underneath my hands, fear welled up in her again. I frowned, leaning forward.

"I'll check again, things are still hazy." She said quietly.

I nodded. Without taking my eyes off of her, I took my hand in hers. "Okay."

I always felt such an interesting tension in times like this with her. Not like with Maria. It wasn't something I wanted to get rid of or felt danger with, I wanted to press into it every time.

"They may not come here after all." Her forehead crinkled, her head shacked. She was frustrated. "They're going the other way now..."

"It's okay. It's not your job to worry about it anymore."

"They must have always been hunting. I don't know why it felt like they were coming after me. They never were, they even seem harmless from what I see now. I shouldn't have gotten so scared."

I shouldn't have left. I wanted to say. But it didn't seem like the right time. "Feelings don't always make sense."

Alice met my eyes again, her frame had relaxed. I was relieved for it.

"Why were you so scared?" I asked quietly, still feeling like she should be more angry with me.

Her reaction was different than what I was expecting. Alice turned away from me a little, her eyes were on the forest floor. She was never shy about anything. I must have hit another nerve.

"I think I felt out of control. I was traveling alone for a long time before you came around." Smiling softly, her eyes seemed to peak up at me, as if she was the guilty party. "I felt alone."

I could only thing of her being alone for a moment because it was too painful. How much did she survive without any help?

"I'm sorry, Alice. I'm so sorry."

She was more alert this time, she shook her head. Her confidence returned to her like it never left. I added resilient to the list of things I knew about her. "It's not your fault Jasper."

She was backtracking for my sake. She was too kind to me.

"I should have been there from the beginning. I should never have left in the first place. I wasn't really angry with you, it was about me. It's frustrating to struggle and I took it out on you. I'm sorry."

The corners of her mouth turned up in that small way again. "I didn't have very good success when I first started either. I lost as much as I won. It's an uphill battle, and if there ever comes a moment where it doesn't feel worth it-"

I put my hand up. It was worth it. I knew the consequences when I didn't fight. My eventual downward spiral. I had been in the lowest place when I met her, and knew that the only reason I wasn't now was because of her, what she had shown me.

"It's worth it." I affirmed. I wanted to her to know a thousand other things, but I couldn't manage to say any of them. Alice moved through the space between us and latched onto me in an embrace. I closed my eyes, and leaned into her.

2000. Day 45 with the Cullens.

"Jasper, someone's coming here."

I picked up her hand. "What do you know?"

"They may not even come here, but they're in the area and might pass the house."

"Alright. Do you need a moment alone? To focus?"

Alice frowned, but relented. "Yes, I'll just be a moment. It's already clearing up."

I touched her shoulder, letting her know that I would guide her. She stood up to meet me. With one hand on her back and the other in her hand, I led her into the bedroom and left her there with the door cracked.

I walked back in the study, keeping tabs on the sounds of her breathing and whispering to herself in the bedroom. I skimmed Carlisle's library for something, anything interesting. I squinted, all medical books...

"Why do you do that?" Rosalie asked.

"What?" I said, not turning to look at her.

"Why do you coddle her when she gets her visions?"

"Certain visions give her anxiety."

"Anxiety? Alice doesn't worry about anything." She quipped. "Shouldn't they make her relax anyway? She already knows what's going to happen."

My eyes traveled along the third shelf, stopping at Medicinal Techniques of the First Modern War. I huffed automatically, reaching for it.

I turned to face her now, taking my seat where Alice had been.

"When she has one with strangers in it I make sure to add myself in the equation. When I'm with her, the vision almost always changes for the better. It makes her feel more in control, or..." I couldn't find the word. "I don’t know, Alice was alone for a long time."

Rosalie nodded and was silent for a few minutes, continuing to read her magazine. When she was done skimming, she stood up. Her frame looked stunning, as statuesque as always. She was walking off, the sound of her heels echoing as they hit the dark wood floor. Before she left the room she muttered something under her breath.

"Well, she is not alone anymore."

I looked back down at the book, seeing pictures of Civil War nurses and I couldn't help it, I grinned.

I mentally checked the bedroom, I heard Alice moving. I snapped the book shut and placed it on the coffee table, heading to the bedroom.

She was standing in the doorway, grinning. She had heard it too.

It hit me then while I hugged my wife in that doorway. It wasn't that she wasn't alone anymore, we weren't alone.

[sadrien]

prince of cats

chapter four: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand

on ao3 || on ffnet 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

hey how is everyone? if you follow me on tumblr, you'll know i wrote like 8k for this fic in one day, and hopefully i'll be doing a lot more writing for it this week, so it looks like posting will be constant all the way through which is pretty nice!

thanks for reading! enjoy~

Marinette pulls her hair up into a messy bun as she makes herself a hot chocolate. It’s almost noon, and she slept far too late, but yesterday was a day. She had sat in Adrien’s kitchen for longer than she had ever imagined, familiarizing herself with the swoop of his hair and the way the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles.

And then she had gone over Alya and Nino’s and had screamed about it for almost an hour over dinner.

Marinette glances over to the window by the sink, where the window is cracked open. For some reason, she half expects Plagg to appear, purring and demanding something to eat. If she thought she had it bad before, after spending a few hours with Adrien, it’s infinitely worse.

She is totally and completely screwed.

Marinette takes her hot chocolate and makes herself comfortable on her couch with a sketchbook and some old markers that she needs to use before she can justify spending an outrageous amount of money on new ones. She really should be working on designs for work — the head designer had a theme for a new line that they were throwing around — but she finds herself reverting to old styles that she played around with back in collège and lycée. There’s something familiar and comforting about the draped evening dresses and elegant suits.

Men’s wear is boring and Marinette intends to fix it.

She’s scribbling out a jacket design that she absolutely despises when there’s a knock at her door. She sits back on the couch with a sigh, twisting up her hair and shoving her pencil in it to hold it in place.

She’s surprised to see Adrien standing in her doorway with an awkward smile. “Oh, uh, hi!”

He lifts a hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m here to, um…borrow a cup of sugar?”

Marinette raises an eyebrow. “You…are?”

“I…” Adrien rubs the back of his neck. “Would it be weird that I kind of just needed an excuse to come talk to you again?”

She blinks in surprise.

“I’m not good at this friend thing,” he continues quickly. “I was… I was homeschooled and when I went to university I didn’t really talk to anyone I didn’t already know—” Adrien stops and buries his face in his hands. “I’m just trying to say I have no idea what I’m doing,” he mumbles. His ears are steadily getting pinker and pinker.

It’s almost unbearably cute.

If Marinette hadn’t already been completely sold, she is now.  

“Hey,” she says softly. Adrien looks up from his hands, face red. “I’m not doing anything today. Want to come in for a drink?”

He glances back into the hallway. “Not coffee, right?” he asks, smiling weakly.

Marinette steps to the side so Adrien can get through the doorway. “Coffee is disgusting.”

“You’re disgusting,” Adrien says. He spins in a slow circle, taking in her apartment. “This is nice,” he says softly. “I love your posters.” He motions to a Jagged Stone poster hanging in the center of the wall. It’s surrounded by other posters, ones she’s stolen from events when no one was looking or that Alya or Nino had bought her from the internet.

“Thanks,” Marinette says as she closes her apartment door. “I made it.”

Adrien’s eyes go wide. “You did?!”

She nods. “Back in collège. I entered one a contest where you had to design a poster for one of Jagged Stone’s concerts. The winner got two free tickets.”

“And?”

She smiles smugly. “Watching from the front row was incredible.”

“Wow,” Adrien murmurs. He looks back to the poster. “You’re amazing.”

Marinette ducks her head as she feels her face grow warm. “It was just some work in Photoshop, nothing fancy.” She had spent hours and hours on it, looking up tutorials on YouTube and asking for opinions from everyone she knew. It wasn’t nothing, but she has a million things she would do differently if she could redo it. “Anyway, I don’t have any coffee, but do you want anything to drink? I have milk and hot chocolate and like…water.”

“Water is fine if you don’t mind me invading your Sunday,” Adrien says. Marinette bites her lip as he wanders over to her couch, knowing her sketchbook is sitting open on the cushions.

She waves away her worries — if he hates or judges her for one bad jacket then they probably should stop trying to be friends immediately — and turns toward the kitchen. “I don’t mind,” she promises. “One sec.”

Marinette is pulling a glass out of the cabinet when Adrien calls out to her from the couch.

“Did you draw this?”

She blows air out the corner of her mouth and quickly fills the glass with water. “Yeah,” she says as she walks out of the kitchen. She hands Adrien the glass. “I did mention I was a designer, right?”

Adrien takes the glass from her, a crease between his eyebrows. “Why did you scribble it out?”

Marinette sighs and leans against the back of the couch. “I hate it.”

He frowns.

She reaches down and takes the sketchbook from him. She tilts it in the light, scrunching her nose as she studies it. “It’s too…” She points at the collar. “It’s just not working for me. It’s very…angular? But not…in the right…”

Huh.

“Can I have that pencil?” she asks, holding out her hand. Adrien hands it to her and she flips to a new page. “Give me like…less than…a minute…” she murmurs, scratching a new jacket on the page. It’s similar to the other one, but with better proportions, angles in different areas, a collar that isn’t so horrible.

She can feel Adrien’s eyes on her.

“You didn’t come here to watch me draw,” Marinette says when she’s got a basic sketch down. The most basic she can get, barely more than an outline. She tucks her hair behind her ear and looks up to see Adrien watching the paper intently.

“I don’t mind,” he answers almost automatically.

Marinette stares at him for a long moment. She tries not to get too lost in his eyes — she is, in fact, trying to read him and make a point right now — but it’s a challenge. “You said you came here for sugar,” she says eventually.

Adrien shrugs. “I needed an excuse. And I don’t have any sugar, so I figured that I might as well try that cliché.”

She furrows her eyebrows. “You…actually don’t have sugar. You drink your coffee black?”  He nods and she grimaces. “First of all, that’s disgusting. Second of all, what do you do when it’s two in the morning and, like any real adult, want a mug brownie?”

Adrien blinks slowly, mouthing the words back to her. “Mug brownie?” he asks when his brain has apparently decided to work again.

Marinette puts down her pencil. “You’re kidding, right?” She takes in his slightly dazed and incredibly confused expression. “You aren’t kidding.” She gives herself half a second to consider before she closes her sketchbook. “Come on,” she says, motioning toward the kitchen.

“What are we doing?” Adrien asks, trailing after her.

“I have to teach you how to adult.”

✦ ✦ ✦

“If you’ve got random chocolate chips laying around,” Marinette says, “this is where you’d throw them in.”

Adrien frowns at the chocolate bar she’s handed him. “This is a chocolate bar.”

“Yes,” she agrees. “It is.”

“What do I do with a chocolate bar?”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “You are so lucky you have me, because you’re hopeless. How have you lived on your own for…how long again?”

Adrien laughs awkwardly. “I get it. What do I do with the chocolate bar, oh All-Knowing One?”

“Watch this.” She unwraps the chocolate bar and puts it down on the cutting board she always has out on her counter just in case. She pulls a knife from the drawer and starts chopping up the chocolate bar. “It’s magic. Almost like chocolate chips and chocolate bars are made of the same thing.”

Adrien crosses his arm across his chest and leans back against the counter. “Okay, I probably should’ve been able to figure that out myself.”

Marinette gives him a pointed look. “You think?”

“Why do you add more chocolate anyway?” he asks. “You said it was optional.”

“Why wouldn’t you want more chocolate?” she counters. “Also, it’s fudgier.”

Adrien hums. “You just have this memorized?”

Marinette nods as as she splits the chopped up chocolate in half and puts some in each mug. “Eventually you just know that you need two tablespoons of cocoa powder, because it’s three in the morning, you’ve been prepping for finals since noon, and looking at a screen for the directions is too painful. Memorization is inevitable. Besides, how else are you supposed to get through university?”

“Uh… Willpower?” Adrien suggests.

Marinette makes a face. “I’ll stick to my double chocolate chip cookies, thanks.”

“You know to make double chocolate chip cookies?” he asks in surprise.

“How are you alive?”

✦ ✦ ✦

As the mug brownies cook in the microwave, Marinette teaches Adrien how to make chocolate chip cookies. Not exactly her original plan for her Sunday, but it means spending more time with Adrien. Also, Alya and Nino will never complain about cookies.

She tries to keep the conversation flowing as they measure out ingredients and mix them together in a large glass bowl. Adrien is twenty four, just like she is, and moved to Paris a few months ago. He never really wanted to go into business, but he doesn’t know what he would’ve gone into if his father hadn’t offered him a job. He did like physics when he took it and he goes off on a ten minute tangent about gravitational waves.

When Adrien is passionate about something, he lights up like the sun. His eyes sparkle and he gestures with his hands, brandishing the spoon in the air. He talks quickly, backtracking and making asides and random commentary the entire time.

Marinette finds herself turning away to hide her smile an awful lot.  

He asks her about designing and she somehow finds herself offering to show him some old designs sometime. He says he once could make a pillow. She laughs and says that she started out with a lumpy pillow that looked more like a very sad ball.

When the cookies are in the oven, the take their mug brownies and curl up on the couch in the living room.

Marinette flips on the TV and then looks over to Adrien. “What kind of movies do you like?”

Adrien pokes at the steaming brownie with his fork. “Honestly, anything. I’ll watch anything from bad Hallmark movies to action movies to Disney classics to comedies.”

She hums as she opens Netflix.

“What about you?”

“Whatever can act as background work while I design,” she admits. “I like to multitask.”

“That’s a good one,” Adrien says, pointing his fork at the screen.

Marinette stops on the movie he’s pointing to. “Anastasia?”

He nods. “Have you seen it?” She shakes her head. “Oh man, it’s a classic. Up there with Disney movies.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Really? What’s it about?”

“It’s a musical—”

Marinette scrunches up her nose.

“Hey, don’t make that face! Musicals are great!”

“Not usually my cup of tea,” she says with a shrug.

“Give it a chance,” Adrien pleads. “It’s about the lost daughter of the last Russian Tzar, but she doesn’t remember who she is. She’s just trying to find her family in Paris, she doesn’t realize she’s royalty.”

Marinette takes one look at his pleading eyes before she sighs and gives in. “I’ll give it a try,” she says, and hits play.

It’s worth it to see Adrien smile.

[shapesweets83-blog]

NFL offseason agendas: Barnwell's to-do lists for all 16 NFC teams

No NFL team manages to fill all of its holes during the offseason. Each has a weak point or two that gets revealed by injuries or disappointing play over the course of a season. Even the most successful offseasons of 2018 prove that point. The Bears surrounded Mitchell Trubisky with talent, acquired a dominant pass-rusher in Khalil Mack and won the NFC North, only for the kicker who signed a four-year extension to sputter out over the course of the year and collapse at the worst possible moment. The Colts needed to turn to midseason acquisition Dontrelle Inman when their wideouts were struggling to stay healthy.

Every NFL team still has some work to do. In some cases, that's filling a roster spot or supplementing a positional group. In others, it's locking up a player who is about to hit free agency. Some teams have much more to do over the next few months than others.

Over the next two days, I'll run team-by-team and try to identify the key things each has to accomplish before the calendar turns to September:

JUMP TO A TEAM: NFC East: DAL | NYG | PHI | WSH NFC North: CHI | DET | GB | MIN NFC South: ATL | CAR | NO | TB NFC West: ARI | LAR | SF | SEA

NFC East

Re-sign Dak Prescott and Amari Cooper. Early negotiations with the cornerstones of Dallas' passing attack haven't yielded much. Executive vice president Stephen Jones suggested that Prescott's deal needs to be "team-friendly," which is his own coded way of asking Prescott to give up his leverage and take a discount. It's probably not going to work in an organization with a long track record of handing its drafted-and-developed talent market-setting deals.

Russell Wilson's four-year, $140 million extension set a new annual average record at $35 million per season. As I wrote in April, the Cowboys' predilection for longer deals with their stars means that Prescott is likely to approach a record for total contract value as opposed to topping Wilson's average. This deal is going to get done unless the Cowboys want to trust the same instincts that led them to pursue Paxton Lynch and Connor Cook before settling for Prescott during the 2016 draft, and they're not that dumb. Prescott is likely to get a five- or six-year deal in the range of $32 million per season.

ESPN.com Illustration

With Prescott, the Cowboys at least have the leverage of knowing that their star quarterback is making about 6 percent of his actual market value. They have no such leverage with Cooper, who is making $13.9 million as part of his fifth-year option and reportedly has made "shockingly high demands" in extension talks with the Cowboys.

There's some gamesmanship and negotiating in public going on here, but what could the Cowboys have expected? Dallas traded a first-round pick for Cooper in a desperate attempt to kick-start its passing attack, and it worked. Cooper caught 66 passes for 896 yards and seven touchdowns in 11 games with the Cowboys, who started 3-4 without him and then went 8-3 after the wideout arrived from Oakland. Cooper is still just 24 and plays at a position in which drafts haven't delivered much talent, so the Cowboys wouldn't have many possible replacements if they did decide to let Cooper leave.

2 Related

They could franchise Cooper twice and pay the Alabama product about $53 million over the next three seasons. That's right around what Odell Beckham Jr. ($52.7 million) and Mike Evans ($55 million) got from their extensions as fifth-year stars last August. The Cowboys probably will have to pay Cooper $58 million over the next three years as part of his extension to get this deal done. It's a lot of money, but once they traded for Cooper and he succeeded, they were basically handing his agent a blank check.

If the Joneses really think Cooper isn't worth the money for which he's asking -- and to be clear, I don't think this is what they actually believe -- they should trade Cooper now in lieu of letting him play out this fifth-year option and walking for a third-round compensatory pick. Cooper's value might never be higher after last season, and there are a handful of teams that should be willing to offer significant draft compensation for a rejuvenated Cooper. The Patriots, Jaguars, Seahawks and Packers all come to mind as teams that could use receiving help, although they might not be enthused about giving up a first-round pick and making Cooper the highest-paid wideout in football. As the Cowboys showed last year, though, it takes only one interested party to make a market.

Establish a succession plan for Daniel Jones. The first time the Giants tried to move on from Eli Manning went about as disastrously as any benching in recent memory. The fans already had turned on then-coach Ben McAdoo in the middle of a disastrous 2017 campaign, but the move to bench Manning for unloved former Jets backup Geno Smith attracted universal scorn. Ownership quickly backtracked from the decision, fired McAdoo and general manager Jerry Reese, and promoted Manning back into the starting role.

This will be different, in part because there's a more significant candidate looming behind Manning in the No. 6 overall pick, Jones. Opinions are split on the Duke quarterback, but the vast majority of Giants fans want to see him suit up and start getting NFL reps. There was no such groundswell for 2017 third-round pick Davis Webb, who never ended up playing for the organization.

Barnwell and friends discuss sports -- usually. • Podcast: Josh Weinfuss and Courtney Cronin » • More: Brady Henderson and Mike Clay » • Archive: Every podcast from Barnwell »

If ownership remains concerned about letting Manning save face on the way out, it should establish a transition plan before the season even begins. Make it public that this will be Manning's last season in a Giants uniform, given that he is in the final year of his deal. (This would go against GM Dave Gettleman's suggestions that the Giants could sit Jones for three years, but it's hardly as if Gettleman's news conferences should be treated as gospel after the OBJ trade.) Admit that the team will turn to Jones if the Giants fall out of playoff contention. Induct Manning into the team's ring of honor for the home finale against the Eagles in Week 17.

In short, get ahead of the Manning transition instead of springing it with a moment's notice or daring the fans to chant for Eli's head every time he throws an interception during September. The Giants screwed things up last time, but this is their chance to get it right.

Add an edge rusher. The Giants were already thin on the edge before trading Olivier Vernon; though they took a flier on Markus Golden and spent a third-round pick on Oshane Ximines, defensive coordinator James Bettcher could still use at least one more meaningful contributor to rotate in at outside linebacker. Nick Perry is still available as a free agent, and though the Packers grew frustrated with their former first-round pick, he is only two seasons removed from an 11-sack campaign.

Talk to the Steelers about Artie Burns. The Eagles, in their own way, hold a unique position of power over their in-state rivals. Philadelphia signed Steelers linebacker L.J. Fort to a three-year, $5.5 million deal with $1.9 million guaranteed this offseason, presumably to serve as a backup linebacker and special-teamer. In doing so, the Eagles impacted the Steelers' compensatory pick formula. The Eagles would stand to gain a fourth-round pick by cutting Fort, who is canceling out the loss of Jordan Hicks to the Cardinals. The Eagles were eventually able to sign Zach Brown to help replace Hicks, squeezing their roster spots further at linebacker.

Fort holds an even more interesting spot in the compensatory universe for his old team. As expected, the Steelers netted a third-round compensatory pick for Le'Veon Bell when their star back signed with the Jets. In a rare foray into unrestricted free agency, though, Pittsburgh signed Chiefs cornerback Steven Nelson and Jags wideout Donte Moncrief to deals. At the moment, the Steelers are still in line to net that third-rounder for Bell, but if the Eagles cut Fort, Pittsburgh would lose a third-rounder and the only compensation it has to show for Bell.

The Eagles making a trade for former Steelers first-round pick Artie Burns could make sense for both sides. Roy K. Miller/Icon Sportswire

The Steelers could then cut Moncrief to keep Bell's pick alive, but they paid the 25-year-old $3.5 million in guarantees as part of a two-year, $9 million pact, nearly twice as much as Fort's guarantee. They are really hoping that Fort does well in his new home. The Eagles could cut Andrew Sendejo to free up that fourth-round pick, but Howie Roseman is one of the most creative general managers in the league. He also loves trades and taking shots on cheap cornerbacks with upside.

The Steelers have one of those in the former first-round pick Burns, who took a massive downturn in his third season and was benched for the second half of 2018. Pittsburgh declined Burns' fifth-year option and replaced him with Nelson, so he's not long for the roster. The Eagles, on the other hand, might very well want to take a flier on a player who looked like a starting-caliber cornerback in 2017. Could the Eagles and Steelers work out a deal whereby Burns heads to Philadelphia for a sixth-round pick and the Eagles (make a gentleman's) promise to keep Fort on their roster all year, therefore locking in the Bell compensatory pick?

Lock up Brandon Scherff. The only concern Washington could have with its 2015 first-round pick is health; Scherff has missed 10 games over the past two years, eight of which came as a result of a torn pectoral last season. The injury shouldn't give the team any pause in re-signing the star guard, who made the Pro Bowl in 2016 and 2017.

The former fourth overall pick is set to play out his fifth-year option at $12.5 million, and Washington should have been more aggressive about re-signing him in January to create cap space, but that's in the past now. There's no reason to wait any longer to lock up the Iowa product. It's going to cost Washington a lot of money, but putting it off will just make Scherff even more expensive to retain.

The number to watch here is $15 million per season. No guard has ever hit that average annual salary on an extension, with Zack Martin atop the market at a $14 million average figure on his deal with the Cowboys. Scherff has a large cap hold, two Pro Bowls in his back pocket, and the ability to attract possible interest as a tackle candidate in free agency, which would drive his market value up even further. A five-year, $75 million extension is likely where this ends, and that would make sense for both parties.

Could Washington move on from longtime backup Colt McCoy this offseason? Mark Tenally/AP Photo

Move on from a quarterback, but not yet. I can't recall a season in which a team carried four quarterbacks on meaningful salaries throughout an entire campaign, and even given that Alex Smith is extremely unlikely to play in 2019, I wouldn't count on Washington to be the first. The team is locked into Dwayne Haskins and Smith, which would leave coach Jay Gruden to pick between Colt McCoy and Case Keenum, both of whom are free agents after the season.

Barring some stunning injury, there aren't any starting quarterback spots left open. A handful of teams could consider upgrading their backup, including the Jaguars, Cowboys, Eagles, Packers, Vikings and Seahawks. Washington's job is to stir enough fear into one of those front offices to get a fifth-round pick and save a minimum of $3 million.

Explore the wide receiver market. Gruden doesn't have much to show for his investments at wideout. The organization just turned down the fifth-year option for Josh Doctson, who hasn't posted a 100-yard game as a pro. Paul Richardson, who signed a five-year, $40 million deal last offseason, has a history of injuries and played just seven games last season.

Richardson will start on one side, but Washington is otherwise looking at rotating between Doctson, third-round pick Terry McLaurin, and the likes of Brian Quick and sixth-rounder Kelvin Harmon on the other. It didn't find a replacement for departed slot wideout Jamison Crowder, and though Trey Quinn should get first crack at that role, Washington should be monitoring the market to try to add help over the summer. Jermaine Kearse could make sense.

NFC North

Find a kicker. The Bears are generally set with the majority of their roster. Their one obvious point of weakness, of course, is at kicker. Cody Parkey is gone, and though Bears fans saw Robbie Gould's trade request and started to pull mothballs out of their old jerseys, it doesn't appear that the 49ers are going to acquiesce and deal Gould back to the Midwest. It's also fair to note that Gould's two excellent seasons in San Francisco have seen the 36-year-old convert 96 percent of his field goals, but Gould was down at 82.3 percent over his final two seasons in Chicago.

I don't think the Bears should trade serious draft capital to the 49ers to acquire their former kicker, but Gould would be better than the kickers the Bears have on the roster, a list that includes the likes of Chris Blewitt, Elliott Fry and Eddy Pineiro. A more realistic option would be going after former Falcons kicker Matt Bryant, who -- admittedly while playing his home games indoors -- hit 95.2 percent of his field goals last season and has been at 88.2 percent over the past decade with the Falcons.

Add defensive line depth. The Lions essentially swapped out Ezekiel Ansah for Trey Flowers this offseason, and though that's an upgrade, the Lions could still use more to work with their core of Flowers and Damon Harrison. Someone to rotate on the inside and serve as a pass-rusher would make sense. The highest-profile option left on the market would represent a homecoming in Ndamukong Suh, but it's unclear whether Detroit would be interested in a reunion after Suh left in free agency for the Dolphins years ago. More feasible options are Muhammad Wilkerson and Corey Liuget.

Resolve Mike Daniels' future. As the Packers transition away from the Clay Matthews era on defense, they're about to hit a crossroads with another defensive stalwart. Daniels has arguably been the Packers' best defender when healthy over the past few seasons, but the 2017 Pro Bowler just turned 30 and is entering the final year of his deal.

The Packers also appeared to signal a different direction with their moves this offseason. General manager Brian Gutekunst targeted height and arm length with his defensive line additions this spring. The Packers signed 6-foot-4 Za'Darius Smith and 6-foot-5 Preston Smith to play on the edge, and then supplemented those selections by drafting 6-foot-5 Rashan Gary in the first round. Gutekunst also drafted 6-foot-3 Kingsley Keke to play on the interior, where he would be backing up the likes of 6-foot-3 star Kenny Clark and 6-foot-5 Dean Lowry.

Daniels, who could figure as a defensive end or a tackle depending on the situation, is an even 6-foot. The Packers also structured their offseason deals to hand significant raises to the two Smiths and fellow free-agent additions Adrian Amos and Billy Turner in 2020; the four signings will combine for a cap hit of $23.4 million this year, but that figure rises to $47.8 million next season. Green Bay has players such as Bryan Bulaga and Mason Crosby coming off the books in 2020, but the significant investments at defensive line suggest that it might not intend to keep Daniels after this season.

Mike Daniels has 29 career sacks since being picked by the Packers in the fourth round of the 2012 draft. Mark Hoffman/Milwaukee Journal Sentinel via USA TODAY Sports

If that's the case, should the Packers think about trading Daniels? There's no guarantee they will get a compensatory pick for Daniels next offseason given Gutekunst's interest in free agency, and they could still bring back Muhammad Wilkerson as a rotational piece after his 2018 season with the team was cut short by an ankle injury. A trade also would allow the Packers to save $7.6 million in cash and roll over $8.3 million onto their 2020 cap.

On the other hand, if the Packers just want to load up on defensive line depth and emulate the Eagles, they should work on re-signing Daniels now.

Add a veteran wide receiver. One position the Packers failed to address altogether this offseason was wideout, where they'll return Davante Adams and his trio of spectacularly named sidekicks in Geronimo Allison, Marquez Valdes-Scantling and Equanimeous St. Brown. The latter two are entering only their second season and still have plenty of time to develop, of course, but it seems like the Packers could do more to give Aaron Rodgers options. This is the same guy who turned James Jones into a valuable wideout out of thin air in 2015, at least in name.

It surprised me that the Packers didn't take a shot at one of the veterans whose markets didn't materialize, and I still wonder if they might look toward one of the few remaining receivers left in Pierre Garcon. The former Colts draftee was cut after two seasons in San Francisco, where he missed 16 of 32 games with injuries, but the 32-year-old was reasonably productive over an eight-game stretch with C.J. Beathard or Brian Hoyer as his quarterback in 2017. Garcon also has played under Kyle Shanahan, who has a long-standing relationship with new Packers coach Matt LaFleur, so the playbook shouldn't be an issue. Green Bay shouldn't give up on their young wideouts, but mixing in Garcon early in the year and seeing if there's anything left in the tank would make a lot of sense.

Replace Laquon Treadwell. The fifth-year option pickups for players such as Jared Goff and Carson Wentz were about as certain as any NFL decision worthy of a press release. On the other end of the spectrum, the Vikings' decision to decline Treadwell's fifth-year option after three disappointing seasons was similarly obvious. The former Ole Miss star is hardly a lock to make the 53-man roster in Minnesota.

The Vikings, of course, don't need a starting wideout. They have the best one-two punch in football with Stefon Diggs and Adam Thielen, each of whom are locked in for the long term. After those two, well, things get scary. There's Chad Beebe, who could take some slot targets in 2019. The Vikings used seventh-round picks on Dillon Mitchell and Olabisi Johnson, but there's nothing more than hope in the cupboard. It's also worth noting that Diggs hasn't completed a single 16-game season as a pro, even if you figure that the Vikings will use more 12 personnel after drafting Irv Smith Jr. in the second round.

Minnesota could very well look toward Pierre Garcon or someone like Michael Crabtree in free agency. Trade candidates also could make sense. Bennie Fowler is buried on the Giants' depth chart and played under Vikings offensive adviser Gary Kubiak in Denver, although Fowler might not be much of an upgrade over Treadwell. A post-hype option like Keelan Cole, who impressed in his rookie season before struggling and losing his starting job with the Jaguars last season, also could make sense for a sixth- or seventh-round pick.

NFC South

Work out an extension with Grady Jarrett. The Falcons didn't add anyone more significant than Adrian Clayborn to their disappointing defensive line this offseason, so they're clearly counting on holdovers such as Vic Beasley Jr. and Jarrett to play up to their potential in 2019.

Beasley, entering the final year of his deal, is the definition of a wait-and-see contract candidate, but the Falcons clearly see Jarrett as a cornerstone of their defense. They franchised him this offseason, giving the 26-year-old a raise from $1.9 million to $15.2 million for 2019. Jarrett signed his tender in April, but the Falcons have until July 15 to work on an extension with their defensive tackle.

The Falcons gave the franchise tag to Grady Jarrett, but the two sides could reach a long-term agreement by July 15. Dale Zanine/USA Today Sports

Jarrett doesn't have the sort of pass-rushing production we've seen from interior disruptors like Aaron Donald, so he can't expect to get that sort of deal. The closest comparison might be someone like Kawann Short, who signed a five-year, $80 million deal after being franchised by the Panthers in 2017. The cap has risen by 12.7 percent since then, so Jarrett might very well ask for five years and a hair over $90 million for his own deal.

Lock up Deion Jones. The Falcons haven't fielded a great defense by advanced metrics over any of the past three regular seasons, but when they have looked good, it's been with Jones on the field. He was a regular in 2016 and 2017 before missing most of 2018 with a foot injury, and the Falcons felt the difference. Over the past three years, they've been competent with Jones on the field and a sieve without him:

StatWith JonesWithout JonesPasser Rating88.0109.2Total QBR57.874.2Yds/Carry4.44.8Run First Down%25.0%28.1%

Re-signing Jones is a must, but the team can't love what happened at middle/inside linebacker this offseason. The top of the market for off-ball linebackers had been at an average annual salary of $12.5 million, but three different players topped that mark. Anthony Barr and Kwon Alexander came in at $13.5 million per year, although Alexander's deal is really a one-year, $14.3 million pact. The Jets then blew up the market by giving C.J. Mosley a five-year, $85 million deal, good for $17 million per season.

Jones might very well ask for a Mosley-sized deal, but it's hard to believe Jones would get that sort of contract in free agency. He just doesn't have Mosley's résumé. More plausibly, Jones could end up somewhere around the old top of the market with a four-year, $54 million deal.

Re-sign Julio Jones. I covered the particulars of a Julio extension in February, and the top of the wideout market hasn't changed. Jones is still likely to come away with a five-year deal between $95 million and $100 million.

Lock up James Bradberry. As the cornerback former general manager Dave Gettleman drafted to replace Josh Norman, Bradberry has been pushed into the starting lineup since Week 1 of his rookie year. The returns have generally been good. The 25-year-old Bradberry has played like an above-average cornerback for three years running, although the entire defense collapsed during a disastrous second half last season.

The only thing missing from Bradberry's game has been takeaways. He has forced two fumbles and picked off five passes in 45 games, which is part of why Panthers fans took to Donte Jackson when the rookie picked off four passes in the first half of 2018. Interceptions are a poor way to judge defensive backs and less sticky from year to year than just about any other individual statistic. Bradberry could play just as well in 2019 as he has in previous years and piece together a five-interception campaign on sheer randomness.

In an NFC South in which the Panthers could face Julio Jones, Michael Thomas and Mike Evans six times if everyone stays healthy, good cornerback play is critical. Even if Jackson continues to develop, the Panthers need to keep Bradberry. He won't be able to command the $15 million annual average Xavien Howard got in a relatively team-friendly deal from the Dolphins, but Bradberry's new contract should come in between $12 million and $13 million per campaign.

Sign a rotation defensive end. I have to admit: It was difficult to find something for the Saints to do in this exercise. They don't have any obvious holes in the starting lineup, and they have depth at just about every key position. You really have to nitpick to find a place where the Saints might look to use the $8.3 million in cap space they have left for 2019.

The one place I'd like to see the Saints add a piece is on the edge. Cameron Jordan is a Defensive Player of the Year candidate at one spot. On the other side, the Saints have two first-round picks invested in Marcus Davenport, but the Texas-San Antonio product was slowed by a toe injury during his rookie season. Last year's starter at that position, Alex Okafor, left for the Chiefs, leaving Trey Hendrickson -- who has played just 17 games over his first two seasons and recorded two sacks -- as the primary backup at defensive end.

The Saints need more depth behind first-round pick Marcus Davenport. Derick E. Hingle/USA TODAY Sports

Defensive coordinator Dennis Allen could use another piece to fill in off the edge and take snaps as an interior pass-rusher, especially given that Sheldon Rankins is recovering from a torn Achilles and might not be ready for an every-down role in September. Finding someone who can do that at a high level who hasn't already taken an offer somewhere else will be difficult.

This would have been a perfect landing spot for Chris Long, but the Eagles defensive end retired on Saturday. As it is, the Saints likely will end up needing to monitor the training camp cuts to see if a useful veteran hits the market. If Gerald McCoy is willing to take a one-year deal in the $5 million range, that would work great.

Lock up Michael Thomas. The Saints might prefer to wait until after the season to re-sign their stud wide receiver, but the 26-year-old Thomas -- who has 33 more receptions through his first three seasons than any other player in NFL history -- is only going to get more expensive if the Saints wait. There's a good chance Thomas is the first $20 million-per-year wide receiver in NFL history if the organization waits for A.J. Green and Julio Jones to sign their deals and pushes the Thomas extension out until 2020.

Plan for a season without Jason Pierre-Paul. Regardless of whether JPP ends up getting neck surgery or not, it's clear that the former Giants star is going to be out for a long time while he recovers from a serious car accident. Coach Bruce Arians suggested that the best-case scenario for Pierre-Paul would involve a five-month recuperation period, which would bring him back during mid-October. Even if that were to happen, JPP would need to get into playing shape, which would mean a part-time role at best for several weeks.

An early glimpse at the 2020 class' talent: • McShay's way-too-early mock draft » • Kiper's Big Board: The top 25 prospects » • Meet the QBs » | Watch: The QB class » • Every Top 25 team's best prospect » • Tagovailoa early favorite to be No. 1 »

The Bucs can't count on getting anything close to the JPP who racked up 12.5 sacks and 20 knockdowns a year ago. They'll have to adapt. For one, it should encourage Tampa to bring back Gerald McCoy, who immediately returns to his prior spot as the Bucs' most imposing pass-rusher. I get that Tampa has Carl Nassib and saw the Browns castoff impress last season, but McCoy is simply a different caliber of player. Without McCoy, the Bucs would be rotating through guys such as Nassib, William Gholston, Noah Spence and fourth-round pick Anthony Harris on the edge. They need more. (Editor's note: The Bucs are releasing McCoy on Monday, according to ESPN sources.)

This would have been an ideal landing spot for Ziggy Ansah before the former Lions standout signed a deal with the Seahawks. As is, the Bucs are likely stuck going after someone like Nick Perry and hoping for the best. Arians and defensive coordinator Todd Bowles were able to coax successful late-career seasons from pass-rushers John Abraham and Dwight Freeney in Arizona, so it wouldn't be shocking if the Bucs generated a useful campaign from a veteran edge rusher.

NFC West

Add a backup for Kyler Murray. Though the Cardinals needed to trade away Josh Rosen after drafting Murray with the first overall pick, the deal left the Cardinals without a recognizable backup for their new signal-caller. Arizona's sub-Murray depth chart at quarterback includes Brett Hundley, Chad Kanoff and Drew Anderson. Not ideal. I doubt coach Kliff Kingsbury wants to suit up himself behind Murray, so let's hope the Cards find a solution. The most obvious move would be to acquire Case Keenum from Washington if the former Houston product doesn't make it ahead of Colt McCoy, given Keenum's comfort with the Air Raid offense.

play

1:11

Louis Riddick breaks down how Patrick Peterson's suspension negatively affects both Peterson and the Cardinals this season.

Sign a replacement for Patrick Peterson. With their star cornerback down for the first six games of 2019 after being popped for a PED suspension, the Cardinals are going to be a mess in the defensive backfield. They've made additions this offseason by signing Robert Alford and drafting Byron Murphy in the second round, but Alford was torched in Atlanta last season, and even good cornerbacks tend to struggle as rookies.

The Cardinals shouldn't plan on moving on from Peterson; if anything, this should help drive down his upcoming contract extension. Adding a veteran to help shoulder the load while Peterson is out would be a good idea. There are still options left on the market, most notably former Jets starter Morris Claiborne. He would be an upgrade over veterans such as Tramaine Brock and David Amerson, who might otherwise be in line to play meaningful snaps in September and October.

Add a defensive lineman. The Rams will theoretically hand some of Ndamukong Suh's snaps to the likes of Tanzel Smart on the inside and Clay Matthews on the edge, but they could still justify adding one more defensive lineman to supplement one of the league's best units. That lineman could very well be Suh, who is still a free agent, but the Rams realistically might not have the cap flexibility to give Suh another one-year deal north of $10 million. They have only $6.6 million in space, and though they could restructure the deals of Aaron Donald or Brandin Cooks to create more room, general manager Les Snead also intends to lock up Marcus Peters with an extension this summer.

The Rams will need to shop for lower-cost options with some upside. Muhammad Wilkerson would make a lot of sense here. Snead is no stranger to a trade, of course, and shopping for a young player with untapped upside would also seem logical. Could the Rams hope Wade Phillips coaxes an impressive campaign out of a former first-rounder like Shaq Lawson or Robert Nkemdiche? Both likely will be on the trade market this summer.

Extend Peters. The former Chiefs star had an uneven first season in Los Angeles, but it's clear that the Rams see the ball hawk as a building block for their defense. Given the deals they've handed to players such as Cooks and Todd Gurley II in recent years, it's also clear that the Rams have no qualms about paying over the norm for one of those young stars. It wouldn't be shocking if Peters ended up challenging the likes of Trumaine Johnson and Josh Norman for the richest active cornerback deal. Xavien Howard topped Norman's five-year, $75 million contract with a five-year, $75.3 million pact, but the structure of the deal isn't generous. Peters could very well come away with a five-year, $80 million extension and be guaranteed to see most of that money.

Solve the running back logjam. The 49ers could call on as many as four viable halfbacks next season in Jerick McKinnon, Tevin Coleman, Matt Breida and Raheem Mostert. McKinnon signed a four-year, $30 million deal with the club last offseason, then tore an ACL and missed the entire campaign. The 49ers paid him $12.5 million for that one season, but he's under contract at a $3.7 million base for 2019.

Matt Breida, who averaged 5.3 yards per carry last season, could be a long shot to make the 49ers' roster. Joe Nicholson/USA TODAY Sports

Keeping four backs doesn't make a lot of sense, especially when you want at least one of them to regularly play special teams. Coleman is virtually guaranteed a roster spot and doesn't play special teams. McKinnon was only a regular special-teamer for the Vikings in 2015. Breida was a regular in 2017, but he moved off special teams as he took over the starting role and struggled with a high ankle sprain last season.

Mostert was productive in a limited role last season, and though he bounced around the league before ending up in San Francisco, the 49ers gave him a three-year, $8.7 million deal this offseason. He's going to figure in the lineup, likely as a special-teamer and occasional back off the bench. The 49ers guaranteed Mostert only $1 million, so they could still move on, but it seems likely that he and Coleman are on the 53-man roster.

Draft Academy documents the journey of six prospects: Nick Bosa, Marquise Brown, Drew Lock, Tyree Jackson, Jarrett Stidham and Josh Jacobs. Watch on ESPN+

That leaves Breida and McKinnon to compete. The 49ers could probably carry them both, but is it really an effective use of their roster spots and playing time? McKinnon offers more as a receiver and allows the 49ers to disguise their intentions pre-snap, which has been key for Shanahan, but Breida has been better between the tackles and might be a better contrast to Coleman. He has been more efficient than McKinnon on a carry-by-carry basis, although Breida's 5.3 yards-per-carry figure from a year ago is a bit inflated, given that he was 30th in success rate.

Would the 49ers rather pay $3.7 million for McKinnon or $645,000 for Breida? Given that the free-agent deal clearly suggests that the 49ers see McKinnon as a game-changing back, my guess is that they'll lean toward McKinnon. If that's the case, they should see whether anyone would be interested in trading for Breida, who will be a restricted free agent after the season.

Look into wideouts. The Seahawks released Doug Baldwin earlier this month, and though they drafted DK Metcalf in the second round and Gary Jennings Jr. in the fourth, the only guys on this depth chart guaranteed a roster spot are Metcalf and Tyler Lockett. The Seahawks could head to September with Lockett, Metcalf, Jennings, David Moore and Jaron Brown as their five wideouts, but it would be foolish to pretend that the Seahawks couldn't upgrade by giving at least one veteran a shot in camp.

The usual suspects figure here. Michael Crabtree and Pierre Garcon are still free. Rishard Matthews was a starting wide receiver in the NFL in 2017 before a bizarre 2018 campaign. Jermaine Kearse, who was involved in some of the biggest plays in franchise history, is also still available. A reunion with Kearse, at least for a training camp tryout, would seem to make sense.

2 Related

Lock up Bobby Wagner. I didn't agree with the arguments people made for moving on from Earl Thomas, but those same arguments don't apply to Wagner. The biggest worry about Thomas was injury, and Wagner has missed just two games over the past four seasons. He hasn't been the same sort of publicly disruptive force Thomas was in asking for a new deal. The Seahawks also don't have the same sort of cap constraints in 2020, given that they stand to have nearly $69 million in room.

If anybody stood to be furious about the C.J. Mosley deal besides the Ravens, though, it was the Seahawks. The Jets' paying an astronomical sum for Mosley means that the Seahawks will have to do the same for their star linebacker. One NFL team's projection for Mosley heading into free agency saw the Ravens standout coming away with a five-year deal between $70 million and $75 million with $35 million guaranteed at signing. Mosley instead signed a five-year, $85 million deal with $43 million guaranteed at signing and $51 million in practical guarantees.

Wagner could very well ask the Seahawks to top that deal. I don't think the Seahawks really have a choice after letting Thomas leave, either. Wagner could very well be looking at a four-year, $72 million extension to stay in his NFL home.

Source: https://www.espn.com/nfl/story/_/id/26781838/nfl-offseason-agendas-barnwell-do-lists-all-16-nfc-teams

[j0sgomez-blog]

By Michael Lanza

Let’s say it up front: The U.S. National Park System is without equal. The natural beauty, variety, pristine character, and scale of it have no parallel in the world. And everyone should set a lifetime goal of exploring as many of our 59 national parks as possible. But the truth is, a handful of flagship parks rise above the rest—including, unquestionably, Yosemite. Created in 1890, our third national park harbors some of the most breathtaking and inspiring scenery and wild lands in the entire parks system. And you can reach some of Yosemite’s finest views on dayhikes.

Here are 10 of the very best.

  May Lake in Yosemite National Park.

May Lake and Mount Hoffmann

From the 10,850-foot summit of Mount Hoffmann (lead photo at top of story) in the geographic center of Yosemite—often described as having “the best 360-degree view in Yosemite”—you’ll look out over virtually the entire park, seeing Half Dome, Clouds Rest, and Yosemite Valley, the Clark and Cathedral Ranges, and the sea of peaks sprawling across northern Yosemite. The steep scramble up the final 200 feet to the summit, where you stand at the brink of cliffs with serious exposure (although you don’t have to stand at that dizzying edge), adds excitement to this hike.

The summit of Yosemite’s Mount Hoffmann.

May Lake alone is a worthwhile destination, tucked into a bowl ringed by cliffs and forest, and an easy hike of 2.4 miles round-trip with 500 feet of elevation gain; it’s reached on a good trail that begins at the top of a road signed for May Lake, off Tioga Road west of Tenaya Lake. Scaling Hoffmann adds another 3.6 miles and 1,600 vertical feet round-trip (six miles and 2,100 feet total), following a steep, unofficial trail not shown on maps but marked by cairns.

See more photos and a video in my story “Best of Yosemite, Part 2: Backpacking Remote Northern Yosemite.”

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  Hikers on Half Dome’s cable route in Yosemite.

Half Dome

One of the most iconic and sought-after dayhikes in the entire National Park System, Half Dome is an incredibly scenic, challenging, long day that will validate every step of effort you put into it—and into getting the permit for this popular dayhike, the lottery for which begins in mid-March. A roughly 16-mile round-trip from the Happy Isles Trailhead in Yosemite Valley, with 4,800 feet of elevation gain and loss, the hike ascends the Mist Trail past the shower constantly raining down from 317-foot Vernal Fall and past thunderous, 594-foot Nevada Fall. Climbing the cable route up several hundred feet of very steep granite slab to the summit plateau is the thrilling reason for the hike’s enormous popularity.

Todd Arndt on Half Dome.

The 8,800-foot summit of Half Dome—where many hikers complete the experience by standing on The Visor, a granite brim jutting out over Half Dome’s 2,000-foot Northwest Face—delivers an incomparable view of Yosemite Valley, and a 360-degree panorama of a big swath of the park’s mountains. Descend via the John Muir Trail for a classic look back at Half Dome, Liberty Cap, and Nevada Fall (and it’s easier on your knees than descending the Mist Trail). Tip: Start before first light, because it’s a very different experience if you beat the crowds to the top.

See more photos from Half Dome and a video in my stories “Best of Yosemite, Part 1: Backpacking South of Tuolumne Meadows,” and “Ask Me: Hiking Yosemite’s Half Dome.” Find info on permits for dayhiking Half Dome at nps.gov/yose/planyourvisit/hdpermits.htm.

  Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside, which has made several top outdoors blog lists. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Subscribe now to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip. Please follow my adventures on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Youtube.

  Mark Fenton hiking Clouds Rest in Yosemite.

Tenaya Lake to Clouds Rest

Of all the hikes on this list, maybe one other begins with a view as soul stirring as the one you get standing on the beach at the southwest corner of Tenaya Lake, gazing across its waters—sometimes mirror-like in the calm of early morning—at a turbulent sea of granite domes and cliffs. This 14-mile, round-trip hike is one of the least busy on this list, partly for the distance, no doubt, but also because Clouds Rest just isn’t as well known as Half Dome—even though its 9,926-foot summit offers an even bigger and more dramatic view than its more famous sibling to the southwest. But it’s not as strenuous as the distance suggests, with just under 1,800 feet of elevation gain and loss.

This ascent culminates in 300 yards of the most gripping hiking you may ever do on a maintained trail, traversing the sidewalk-width summit ridge, with a drop-off of several hundred feet on the left and a cliff on the right that falls away a dizzying 4,000 feet—that’s a thousand feet taller than the face of El Capitan. And you get to walk it a second time on the descent. Start early to get off the summit by midday, to avoid possible thunderstorms.

Bonus: For a really big and spectacular day, link up Clouds Rest and Half Dome on a 21-mile traverse from Tenaya Lake to Yosemite Valley.

See more photos from Clouds Rest and a video in my story “Best of Yosemite, Part 1: Backpacking South of Tuolumne Meadows.”

  I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable hiking or backpacking trip in Yosemite. Want my help with yours? Find out more here.

  Vernal Fall on the Mist Trail in Yosemite.

Glacier Point to Happy Isles

This is the one hike on this list whose first steps arguably deliver a finer view even than the one across Tenaya Lake—but that’s thanks to the fact that you drive (or take a shuttle bus) up to Glacier Point at 7,200 feet (which conveniently eliminates the need for a vehicle shuttle if you’re staying in Yosemite Valley). The flat, easy, 20-minute, out-and-back walk to Glacier Point rewards you with some of the best views of Yosemite Valley, taking in a sweep from Upper and Lower Yosemite Falls to a gorgeous vista looking up Tenaya Canyon at Half Dome, North Dome, and several other peaks.

Then backtrack for the 9.1-mile, 3,000-foot descent via the Panorama Trail and Mist Trail (or optionally take the easier John Muir Trail) past 370-foot Illilouette Fall as well as Nevada and Vernal, with almost constant views of the dramatic canyon of the Merced River and the Valley. Bonus: It’s all downhill.

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Upper Yosemite Falls in Yosemite Valley, with Half Dome at far right.

Upper Yosemite Falls

After climbing this sometimes hot and dusty trail for about 90 minutes, you’ll turn a corner to see Upper Yosemite Falls, a curtain of water plunging a sheer 1,430 feet off a cliff, ripping through the air and showering hikers on the trail below with the mist rising from the rocks at the waterfall’s base (which is not very close to the trail). Yosemite Falls, consisting of the upper falls, the 400-foot-tall Lower Yosemite Falls (reached on a separate, flat, one-mile loop trail), and several hundred feet of cascades in between is the tallest in North America at 2,425 feet. The hike to a ledge at the very brink of Upper Yosemite Falls is 7.2 miles round-trip and ascends 2,700 feet, finishing with an exciting catwalk along a ledge where the trail crosses the face of a cliff.

My kids hiking to Upper Yosemite Falls.

Tip: If you’re fit and fast, start in the afternoon, when you’ll have shade for much of the hot ascent, and most other hikers will be coming down (bring a headlamp). Bonus: Continue 0.8 mile beyond Upper Yosemite Falls to Yosemite Point, overlooking Yosemite Valley and the Lost Arrow Spire—where, if your timing is right, you may see rock climbers scaling that slender blade of rock, or crawling across a rope strung between its summit and the rim.

See more photos and a video in my story “The Magic of Hiking to Yosemite’s Waterfalls.”

  Yearning to backpack in Yosemite? See my e-guides to three amazing multi-day hikes there.

  On the John Muir Trail overlooking Half Dome, Liberty Cap, and Nevada Fall.

Mist Trail-John Muir Trail Loop

The Half Dome hike without Half Dome—that’s this classic and very popular, 6.3-mile lollipop loop, with 2,000 feet of vertical gain and loss, to Vernal Fall and Nevada Fall. But that makes it sound like a letdown, and it’s anything but. Fun for kids when you walk through the rain falling from an often-blue sky—created by Vernal Fall pounding the rocks at its base—this beautiful hike passes by slabs at the top of both Vernal and Nevada, either of them a good lunch spot with a great view down the canyon.

Depending on the Merced River’s volume—generally at its peak between late May and late June—Vernal’s “mist” can vary from just that to a fire hose of water slamming into you (which I’ve experienced). A swimsuit on a hot day or a rain jacket is appropriate attire for passing below Vernal Fall. From the Happy Isles Trailhead, ascend the Mist Trail and descend the John Muir Trail from the top of Nevada Fall.

See more photos and a video in my story “The Magic of Hiking to Yosemite’s Waterfalls.”

  Climate change threatens Yosemite’s waterfalls. Read my book about family adventures in national parks.

  Lembert Dome

Our son was two when my wife and I hiked with him up Lembert Dome, the major geologic feature lording over the eastern end of Tuolumne Meadows on Tioga Road, and he made it most of the way under his own power—and promptly took a nap as soon as I stuck him in the kid-carrier pack. That’s the kind of hike Lembert is: short and family-friendly at under three miles round-trip, with a decent climb of 850 feet, and a big payoff at the 9,450-foot summit, looking out over Tuolumne Meadows to the granite domes and jagged peaks of the Cathedral Range beyond. I’ve also enjoyed the pleasure of rock climbing Lembert, and either way, its summit feels surprisingly thrilling for such a short outing.

  Got a trip coming up? See my reviews of the best hiking shoes and 7 best daypacks.

  The view of Yosemite National Park from Matterhorn Peak.

Matterhorn Peak

On a recommendation from a friend who knows the High Sierra well, I hiked Matterhorn Peak by myself and delighted in the wildflowers, creek-fed alpine gardens, and a short, easy scramble to the blocky summit. Unlike Jack Kerouac, who wrote about his failed attempt of Matterhorn Peak in Dharma Bums, I reached the top. My bird’s-eye view spanned much of the park—and from up there, you get a real sense of Yosemite as a vast expanse of jagged peaks and deep, granite-walled canyons.

At 12,264 feet, Matterhorn is the highest peak on the serrated Sawtooth Ridge in northern Yosemite, the northernmost Sierra peaks to exceed 12,000 feet and, according to summitpost.org, the northern terminus of what’s generally referred to as the “High Sierra.” A mecca for technical rock climbers and couloir skiers, Matterhorn can also be climbed on a partly off-trail hike that’s steep but not technically difficult. It gains more than 3,200 feet in elevation over roughly six miles (one-way), most of it not on a maintained trail. Starting at the west end of the Twin Lakes resort area, the route follows a maintained trail partway up the valley of Horse Creek. Beyond it, a rough user trail continues to a saddle between Matterhorn and Twin Peaks, and the route then ascends the mountain’s southeast face.

  Be ready for your next hike. See my story “Training For a Big Hike or Mountain Climb.”

  Heather Dorn hiking the John Muir Trail below Cathedral Peak.

Cathedral Lakes

Cathedral Peak, at nearly 11,000 feet high, with sheer walls and two summits, cuts a distinctive profile from any direction—but one of the most photogenic spots to view it is the Cathedral Lakes. Reached via the John Muir Trail heading south from Tuolumne (starting at the trailhead 1.5 miles west of the Tuolumne Meadows campground entrance), the seven-mile hike, with 1,000 feet of up and down, follows the JMT south for three miles, through mostly lodgepole pine forest, until reaching open meadows with a view of Cathedral Peak. A half-mile-long spur trail leads to Lower Cathedral Lake, at over 9,300 feet, with its magnificent reflection of its namesake peak and Tresidder and Echo peaks; reach the upper lake by continuing south on the JMT. Visiting either is seven miles round-trip, and combining them makes it eight miles.

Bonus: Taking advantage of the free park shuttle buses that run regularly throughout the Tuolumne Meadows area, hike a traverse of about 13 miles from the JMT Trailhead in Tuolumne south to Cathedral Lakes and Sunrise Lakes and finish at Tenaya Lake.

  Dewey, Crocker and Stanford Points

A retired backcountry ranger who hiked all over Yosemite for decades told me this was his favorite dayhike in the park—a pretty solid recommendation, I figure. These three overlooks offer slightly different perspectives on Yosemite Valley features like Bridalveil Fall and the Leaning Tower, Cathedral Rocks, and El Capitan, and beyond to Clouds Rest, Mount Hoffmann, and even distant, 12,590-foot Mount Conness on the park’s northeast boundary. Each point is breathtaking, and you can do part or all of this hike, or go at it from different directions.

From McGurk Meadow Trailhead on Glacier Point Road, it’s 8.2 miles out-and-back to Dewey Point, the first of the three you’ll reach from that direction—and possibly pretty enough to satisfy a lot of hikers by itself. From Dewey, it’s 0.7 mile farther to Crocker Point, and then another half-mile to Stanford Point; tagging all three from McGurk Meadow is 10.6 miles out and back. You can also have someone meet you at the Wawona Tunnel and make it a one-way, mostly downhill hike from McGurk Meadow, of roughly the same distance. The hardest approach is up and down from Wawona Tunnel, about 11 miles out-and-back and about 3,000 vertical feet.

  Tell me what you think.

I spent a lot of time writing this story, so if you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a share using one of the buttons below, and leave a comment or question at the bottom of this story. I’d really appreciate it.

  See all of my stories about Yosemite National Park and California’s national parks at The Big Outside.

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[theairportau]

the airport AU, part 115 by rjdaae and hopsjollyhigh

Previous parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100 101, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10 111, 12, 13, 14

---

ERIK

Please. Let me help you.

The words are in a new language, but the tone and intention rings clear in his memory. He remembers lying cold and still in a cell, battling the throbbing pain that went all the way down his back; he remembers his frustration when the barest breath of a whimper passed his lips, but more than anything, he remembers it as a beginning point. The first time he ever begrudgingly allowed Khan anywhere near him- and he remembers how careful he had been, how he had talked through the reason every time he moved his hands. He remembers feeling something like hope, even with his hands tied behind his back, and he remembers the sense of relief that Khan had expressed- to be able to help, after being a bystander.

He can sense Christine’s anxiety. Is it fair to deny her the same relief? As much as he would rather not make her do anything in his house, something to occupy her might at least make her feel better about the situation.

And her hands around his. He feels his heart skip, and, despite Christine’s efforts to maintain eye contact with him, finds himself glancing down at her hands, so small and bright and clean around his scarred, gnarled one- and so warm. If anything, he’d rather have her stay here like this, holding onto his hand. It takes his mind far off of his sickness; even in Khan’s care, there had only once been a time where they had touched each other more than necessary. A time that he safely, and perhaps selfishly, allows Khan to believe that he has forgotten.

Finally, he meets her eyes again. She is so worried- he has to give her something. Reluctant as he is to let her go, he agrees to the first thing he can think of.

“Te låter bra,” he says quietly, and the words still feel uncertain, and he feels a stab of guilt for implying that she should do anything. But it’s so abundantly clear that she wants to- he has to allow her to do what she can. It seems that it’s the only thing that will calm her anxiety. And he’s far from bleeding on a cell floor, but tea does sound nice, and he can’t imagine a person he would rather share it with. 

---

CHRISTINE

Christine’s tension splits in a smile, releasing the breath that she had been holding. Tea; just tea—not a huge thing to do, not as much as he probably actually *needs*, but *something* at least. Insistent upon pushing her advantage, her brain rushes to supply a dozen further suggestions in reply, but she holds them back; she only nods, her hands tightening briefly around Erik’s own, her thumb brushing across the bony knuckles. “Okej. Jag göra det.”

She lowers his hand back to the seat of the couch, gently leaving it at the edge of the warm blanket before climbing to her feet. Turning, she picks up their cold mugs from earlier that morning, and steps around the edge of the coffee table, wasting no time in making her way to the kitchen. “Strax tillbaka,” she assures as she disappears around the corner.

Christine finds the box of tea without even having to look for it, still sitting on the counter where they’d left it earlier, and it only takes a minute for her to refill the kettle and set it to boil; stepping back from the stove, she fidgets with a loose strand of hair for a moment, before glancing around the kitchen, hunting for any other small help that she might be able to sneak past Erik’s objection.

The dishes from breakfast are still in the sink, and she takes the opportunity to rinse them, as well as the mugs; the mugs, at least, are a necessity: much easier to clean the ones that she already has than to attempt to excavate any additional ones from the cluttered cabinets.

But…maybe she *should* find fresh ones. Maybe Erik prefers things to be properly cleaned in the dishwasher before being used a second time? That’s what she tells herself, anyway, as she carefully pulls open first one cupboard door and then another—her eyes skimming blankly over more than a few perfectly fine mugs and glasses, hoping *more* to spot some sign of a medicine box.

Was there really any point, though? Would she even understand enough of a French medical label to *know* if she found something that might help him? At any rate, her brief search doesn’t turn up so much as a bottle of aspirin.

She, *does*, however, locate Basile—the large silver tabby seeming to materialize from thin air at the creak of the cabinet hinges, green eyes peering interestedly up as if hunting for food tins.

“Where have you been all day?” she asks, too softly to be heard from the living room, letting the door close with an amused smile, “sleeping until dinnertime?” The cat weaves persuasively around her ankles, purring loudly, and she leans down to stroke his back.

“Is it even *time* for your dinner yet?” she ponders, fingertips moving to scratch behind his ears; she has never had any pets of her own—how much are cats even supposed to eat in a day?

Even if it’s a bit early, though, feeding the cats might be another good way to be helpful.

“Okay, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt—but *you’re* taking the blame if Erik disapproves…”

In the short time it takes Christine to find a can-opener, she also finds another hungry mouth: Mona, seemingly drawn in from the living room by Basile’s excitement.

“Very well, little one, you also,” Christine concedes, walking across the kitchen to pick up the cat food bowls; a flash of mottled fur catches her eye as she passes the door to the balcony, and she pauses, turning.

Sitting on the ground at the edge of the railing is the same pale silver and orange cat that she remembers having seen eating on the patio the previous morning; the animal’s green eyes regard Christine with no less suspicion than they had then.

“Hi there, kissemiss,” she whispers, lifting her fingertips to trail along the windowpane; the cat’s eyes widen at the movement, and with a flick of its grey tail it vanishes between the bars of the railing. The whistling of the kettle draws Christine’s attention back away from the balcony, and with a sigh she moves to fill the mugs.

---

ERIK

The smile that breaks across her face is all the confirmation he needs that allowing her to do something was the right decision. All he really wants for is the warmth of her hand around his again- it will make her feel better, though, to get up and do something. It feels awkward, to sit idly while she moves things around in the kitchen, but he draws his hand back under his blanket and sits quietly. A pulse of exhaustion beats at the front of his head, blurs his vision; without something to focus on, he finds his vision roaming and his eyelids flickering. His head only snaps up at the sudden motion as Mona darts across the room, having heard the shuffle of cans in the kitchen.

His eyes manage to track her, and he can hear what she’s doing- rinsing the dishes. Feeding the cats. He can’t help feeling guilty; he can hear Basile, too, the greedy little thing, asking for dinner. He wants to get up, but it would defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it? She would only feel bad. He tilts his head back against the sofa cushions, closing his eyes for a moment- a dangerous dizziness washes over him, and he forces them open again. He won’t fall asleep on her. The kettle is whistling, anyway- she’ll be back in just a moment. That’s all he can think of; her being back. Alone, he has too much time to think about how tired he is- being around her clears the fog from his mind enough that he at least isn’t nodding off. 

---

CHRISTINE

Steam brushes warningly against Christine’s hand as she fills the mugs; rises up from the leftover water that she pours into the sink. She takes her time as the tea steeps—rinsing the kettle though it isn’t really necessary, letting it cool before returning it carefully to its spot on the stove. Her feet tug towards the living room, but as much as she wants to rush back and give Erik his tea, to see the warmth of it soothe his shivering, she doesn’t trust him to give it time to cool before gulping it down. And so she loiters in the kitchen a few moments longer, her elbow resting against the counter, patiently watching the vapour that curls upward from the mugs.

The cats munch happily over their food bowls, looking up only for a moment as Christine retrieves a container of milk from the fridge. After taking an experimental sip from her own tea—to check the flavour of the unfamiliar blend as well as the temperature—she adds a portion of milk and sugar to both mugs, hoping that the addition will help Erik more than he will object to it.

Once again, she wishes that Erik would have agreed to let her make him something to eat as well. It’s just…the thing to do, isn’t it, when someone is sick? To make soup for them? Before leaving the kitchen, she casts her gaze around the room one last time, searching for anything *else*…

There’s a hesitance in her footsteps as she finally returns to the living room a minute or two later, the two mugs held precariously in one hand, and a bowl in the other.

“Hej,” she says cheeringly as Erik looks up, trying to keep the uncertainty out of her smile. He has nestled further into the shelter of his blanket, obviously still feeling cold—but now he has *seen* that she has brought more than just the tea, and there’s no room to backtrack. She manages to set the two mugs down on the coffee table without spilling them, then returns to her seat beside Erik, the bowl balanced awkwardly on her knee—an awkwardness that increases the longer she goes without offering an explanation.

She gives another nervous smile, looking down at the bowl and the cool washcloth that it contains; she tilts the bowl uncertainly, watching a few drops of water pool at one side.

“Jag trodde att… Din feber… Du kan lägga den på halsen—om du känner dig varm…?”

‘If he feels warm’—it sounds even more ridiculous now that she has said it aloud, with him sitting there bundled up and shivering. Biting her lip, she pushes the bowl the rest of the way towards him, half wishing that she could use the cloth to hide her flushed face instead.

---

ERIK

Of course, she’s gone beyond- what else would he have expected from her? It seems instinctive to her to take care of people. She has already washed his dishes more than once, and he has seen the looks that she gives him. So full of his concern for his well-being. She always seems to be looking for something more to do for him, as little as he feels he deserves any of it. 

But of course she’d want to care for a sick person- considering her experience with illness- he’s ashamed that, in his selfishness, it hadn’t been the very first thing he’d thought of when she recognized that he was ill. She has lost people before. Was she the one caring for her father, in the end? Did she present him with tea and cool washcloths, or were they in the white, sterile setting of a hospital, where- possibly even worse- there was only waiting for nurses to come and help?

This isn’t like that. He wants her to understand that- it’s just a small fever that will go away with time and rest, and it has taken him this long to consider the associations she might make with any sickness. Even he isn’t socially unaware enough to actually bring it up- that would be an absolute disaster- but he can’t recognize the best alternative course of action, either. To assure her too much might seem fake, and make her worry more. The best he can think to do is acknowledge her effort. The obvious thing to do with the washcloth would be to clean his face- the sweat gathered under the mask is a dense film by now, but obviously, there is complication in that. He doesn’t want to accept her favor by getting up- it seems counter to the point of her going to get the tea in the first place.

He can’t let her sit in awkward silence, even though there is very little that he can think to say. It is still a struggle to look her in the eye, most of the time- there is an intimacy in eye contact that he has never grown accustomed to, but he wants her to read his sincerity.

“Tack, Christine,” he says softly, and sits up a bit. He can feel the stretch and crack of his backbone as he moves; he’s been still for too long, and the relief of moving his back sets off a chain reaction where he stretches his legs, as well, just as much as he can from the couch, and rolls his shoulders before he reaches over to take the cloth from the bowl. He isn’t warm, not even a little bit, but his skin feels wretched and greasy, and not having been able to shower the night before hasn’t helped the situation. He can’t wipe his face, but he presses the cloth to the back of his neck, where sweat has been rolling down from his hairline all day. He has to brace himself against the cold, but it does, on some level, feel good to clear away the grime that’s there. Later tonight, he’ll get to take the monitor off and take a decent shower, but for now, it isn’t so horrible to use the cloth on just what small portion of his skin is exposed. It’s cold, but he doesn’t feel that he can get much colder- and the thought of drinking tea afterward helps him handle it.

Basile struts into the room, sits by the edge of the coffee table, and begins fastidiously grooming himself after his meal. Erik’s eyes flicker down at him, and back at Christine.

“Les chats,” he says hastily, a little bit too obviously grateful for an opportunity to bring up something other than illness. “Ils sont… ah…” it takes him a moment of thinking, but after a moment staring into space, the word comes to him. “Girig.”

---

CHRISTINE

Seconds tick past as the bowl and washcloth sit untouched on the cushion between them—but then, finally, Erik seems to make a decision: with a ‘thank you’ that sounds as uncertain as Christine feels, he sits up and reaches for the cloth.Christine acknowledges his words with a simple nod—speech superfluous in comparison to the small, thankful smile that edges back onto her face. Turning her eyes to keep from making Erik feel self-conscious, she tries to settle in with her own mug of tea. Carefully, she pulls her feet back up onto the couch, tucking them underneath herself—pinning them in place, as they twitch with the ingrained impulse to seek out soup and medicine and extra blankets. She, too, is grateful for the distraction offered by the return of Basile.

“Ja—ja,” she exclaims, smiling appreciatively at Erik’s choice of word, “De är *mycket* giriga!” Tilting her head, she smirks down her nose at the silver tabby, “…*vissa* mer än andra. Jag antar att du också kräver en kopp te, Basile?” she asks, her voice as serious and accommodating as if she’d been asking a human. “Eller kanske en smörgåsbord?”

---

ERIK

She is only doing the same as he is- trying to distract from the situation. There is tension in the way she sits, and in her voice, even as she taunts the cat. Erik reaches for his mug as she speaks to Basile, observing their interaction as he finally takes a sip. It feels so good, even if it’s possible that it could burn his tongue- all the way down into his gut, he can feel the its warmth emanating from his core. He wraps his hands around the warm cup and sighs into it contentedly; it seems such a small thing, but it really does help to have a fresh cup of tea. He enjoys the warmth in his hands for a few moments longer before he sets the mug down and reaches for the tablet.

Ignoring the situation is only bound to make her worry when there is no reason to do so. It isn’t too complicated- he can find a way to set her mind at ease. If she sees evidence of him taking care of himself, she won’t have to worry- even if it means sacrificing a day.

“I will be fine. To be certain, I will rest tomorrow. I could even have Khan come over to help out. You deserve a day off. You have barely seen the city. Darius would probably take you shopping.”

In truth, he needs the day. He needs to find some way to sleep. It takes so long to rest- it’s so rare that sleep goes uninterrupted, and all of these revealing conversations lately- it has been even worse than usual. Irritating as he can be, Khan is basically made for these situations- patient, level-headed, an absolute counterweight to everything that goes on when Erik is alone. And for Christine to come to Paris, and spend the whole time in his house! It’s only the end of November, but he thinks that the holiday lights should be going up soon. She should see the city, and he can’t bring her to do that, as much as he might want to, impulsively- the freedom to take a walk in the city without all of the preparation and worry is not one available to him. Darius can show her, though. She can start learning the metro. Start becoming more independent in Paris.

The idea is intimidating as it is necessary. He has to help her get her footing, but once she has it, what will be her motivation to come back to his dark, stuffy apartment? She has an entire city at her fingertips.

At the very least, there is always music. It’s that thought that gives him the courage he needs to hand over the tablet, suggesting one of her first real ventures out into the city, beyond the street where she has somehow landed. If nothing else, music might keep them together. 

---

CHRISTINE

She wants to disagree—but, really, is there any *valid* reason for her to do so? As deeply as she *wants* to help, can she really argue that she could be of more help than *Khan*, who knows Erik so much better than she does? He’ll be better off if he’s able to simply rest tomorrow—without her hanging around, distracting him with books, making him feel guilty about yet another missed lesson.

And, though it makes *her* feel guilty to think of going off when her friend is unwell, she *does* want to see more of the city that she’d dreamed of for so many years.

“Det blir bra,” she says after a moment; giving a surer nod, she pushes the reluctance from her voice, “Okej.”

---

ERIK

It’s impossible to deny the stab of envy that Erik feels when he thinks of Christine and Darius out together for the day. How other people must take it for granted- the ability to go outside. He would bring her to the gardens, if he could. They would see the puppet show at the Jardin du Luxembourg, and look at the animals in the Jardin des Plantes- things that he has never done himself, despite living in Paris for years. 

He’ll have to ask her and Darius when they come back. He knows that he’ll be wrestling with himself all night, and all day tomorrow. As necessary as it is to take a day off, he fears his own idle mind far more than overexerting himself. If it weren’t for Christine’s concerns, he would be perfectly happy to keep going. 

He can’t even sing for her right now, though. It simply won’t work if his fever progresses into anything more. He tries to ignore the reluctance in her voice, acknowledging only her firm “okej”; she’ll be glad for the day when she’s actually out enjoying it. He raises his mug to his lips for another long sip of tea, and responds on the tablet.

“There is supposed to be a break in the rain tomorrow. It will be mild enough for you, I’m sure, coming from further north. You will have a good day.”

He nods as if to punctuate his statement as he passes the tablet back across the couch to Christine. Whatever happens tomorrow, he’ll know that she will have a good time. Darius isn’t always the best judge of what to say, but when it comes to shopping and generally planning a day out, he is excellent. 

---

CHRISTINE

She glances towards the thin gap in the curtains covering the picture window; the greyness outside seems only to have grown even darker as the day has worn on.

Even if, tomorrow, the sun *does* manage to burn its way through those oppressive clouds, she knows the curtains will still be there to block it out.

At least he won’t be left alone.

And worrying about tomorrow will only waste what little is left of *today*.

“Är du trött?” she asks after a moment, shifting her mug in her hands, “Umm…fatigué?”

---

ERIK

A short, self-deprecating laugh answers Christine’s question. He doesn’t mean to act dismissive- it’s just an undeniable truth of being himself. “Alltid,” he replies, a sigh heavy in his voice. 

“Mais. Ça va.”

Tired as he is, the idea of attempting to sleep alone is far less appealing than sitting on the couch next to her. He could stay here all night- but she can’t. If he intends for her to have a good day tomorrow, he needs to let her get some rest. 

The thought of walking to the hotel gives him pause. Getting up- going outside- all he wants to do is stay curled up in his house; at least here, he can attempt to find warmth and some measure of comfort. He can’t assume that she would want to stay, though. She only has very few clothes at his house, and he’s never exactly considered himself good company. He reaches for the tablet.

“It is starting to get late. You need to get some rest as well. Today has been long.” 

---

(Part 116)