#powering through the pain gets exhausting and the bats should be able to complain about it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

astriefer · 3 years ago

Text

Let Me Kiss Your Bleedings Goodbye / Look Around And See How Much You Are Loved

Summary: Alastair just wants to listen to music in his room, but the world won't have it.

Word count: 5718

Warnings: alcohol, implied mental abuse, manipulation, toxic relationships, cursing, mentioned alcoholism, neglect, negative thoughts.

@littlx-songbxrd that one is for your birthday! You chose angst the other day so I just rolled with it-

Happy birthday!! You're an amazing, creative,talented and such a special friend! I'm glad I got to meet you ^-^

All Alastair asked for was to listen to music on his phone and mind his own business. But of course, the fates weren't happy unless Alastair has had a shitty day.

Cordelia knocked on his door politely. "Alastair?"

It was Saturday, so she had no reason to bother him. Lunch had already been served, and she was about to go out with her friends. So why come bother him now?

He made no move to unlock the door, and his annoying little sister repeated, "Alastair!"

She started to slam her fists at the door like some sort of a madwoman, and Alastair groaned and tore himself from his bed. "What?" he hissed as his bedroom door flew wide open.

"Mâmân wants you downstairs," Cordelia answered, backing away slightly. If she heeded Alastairs's pissed mood, good. She interrupted in the middle of his favorite song. The call of reason would say it was because they were almost nose to nose, and she was repulsed of his closeness as any other sibling would, but he liked the first option better.

"And that you couldn't tell me through the door because?" he snarled, and Cordelia rolled her eyes. He glanced at her and noticed what she wore - one of her favorites clothes Lucie picked up for her a few months ago. He arched a perfect eyebrow at his sister."Is there some special occasion?"

Cordelia's cheeks flushed red, and she decisively didn't meet his eyes. "It's nothing. Just going out with some-- That's none of your business. You're so irking. Oof."

She exchanged to the annoyed-sibling-defense-system mid-sentence. It was Alastair's turn to roll his eyes so he didn't waste it. "Whatever. Go play dolls with Lucie." Closing the door behind him, he ambled down the staircase to the ground floor, ignoring his sister's protest.

He entered the drawing-room, which he found deserted. All that laid there were a few magazines Cordelia left on the table and an empty cup of coffee. He didn't stall to wonder who besides him drank coffee in the house since his mother was pregnant - and it was unhealthy for the baby - and Cordelia didn't like it. He headed to the dining room, finding his mother seated on one of the dinner table's seats. In front of her, seemingly a pristine-white unopened letter.

"Dearling," Sona smiled at her son, the light not reaching her eyes. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," he answered. He perched on the chair next to hers and took one of the pastries Risa brought the previous day that laid in a basket. She would occasionally check on Sona and them. Their aunt had assisted them in any possible way was able to in the past few months. And even before that, she volunteered to do things Alastair wished she wouldn't. She once contacted James Herondale, Cordelia's boyfriend, to give him the talk . It was hilarious as much as it was terrifying because while Risa picked fundamental English words, she had him by the arm to help her translate. And Holly Lord in the sky, he couldn't look James in the face for a month.

Sona just studied him for a few moments, before her features softened. "You always so self-reliant." she shook her head. "I'm sorry. You don't need your mother to nag you."

Alastair inclined toward her, squinting. "Mom, I never said that."

"You seem peeved at me," she adjusted her deep green roosari - it matched the wide yellow and green dress she wore - before resting her eyes on the letter. "I would think it has something to do with puberty if I didn't have a second teenager in the house."

"I'm not angry at you." Alastair scoffed.

"Alright," Sona said.

"Are Cordelia and I in a competition of who is the worst teenager? Well - at least I'm on the lead. Cordelia should level up her game."

"Dear, it's not it," Sona lifted both her hands, like in a plea, before she dropped them on the table again. Alastair noted her eyes wandered around the room - deviated from how she usually behaved - and suspected he was going to be apprised of some news.

Brows furrowed, he asked, "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Well-" she rubbed at her eyes, and Alastair noticed - not for the first time - the dark circles around his mother's eyes. Does he keep you awake at night? He wished to ask in worse days, to see if it hurt her as much as it hurt him. Or is he haunting you with nightmares?

Alastair long knew the figure Elias is in Cordelia and Sona's dreams is of some immaculate hero. One with kind eyes, a guiding beacon, a loving man. In their dreams, he would outstretch a comforting hand and still be young and caring. He's the best version of himself, a father and a husband that loves them. He is also the man that dwelled in his most horrifying nightmares - A drunk, nothing more. He was swigging vodka by the bar, with cold eyes and tousled white hair. This version of his father, he knew, would call him a brat, would complain about his mother pestering him to visit rehab. His father would hug his bottle and glance at him as if he was a nuisance to get rid of, and he would close his eyes and wish to be elsewhere. But he's small again, and just wants his father to leave the bottle to hug him goodnight, tucked safely under the blankets. But his father wouldn't come.

Was it foolish his heart still stung whenever he came across this truth?

She cut the pleasantries and readied herself. "Your father's lawyer declared he wouldn't waive the trial," Sona conceded, her shoulders sagged. His mother laid a protective hand on her belly, where Alastair's sibling has been growing in her womb for the past few months. "A letter was dispatched."

It was all it had to take to ruin his day. He barely had the restraint to not leap on feet and scream at the cursed photo of his father, hung on one of the walls. Before it was all revealed, before it exploded in their face, and far before Cordelia became aware of their father's afflict, they used to do it often. To talk about what they would do next. How to protect Cordelia, how to help Elias, how to hide the appalling secret of their family their best. Now they did it for an entirely different reason.

Up to a few months ago, they were still a picture of a family in a broken frame. When the court exonerated Elias from any blame, they reunited and returned to posture like they always had been. Act, because that is all they could do. However, upon Elias's trial, Cordelia discovered the truth. Alastair was so exhausted from hiding it, he didn't perceive it until he let the lie collapse. He had blamed himself, he still did, but it changed nothing from the fact Cordelia knew about their father now.

She knew, and she was livid. At Alastair, at their mother and father, at the world. After all, she lived a lie. Who could have blamed her?

It was that day he confessed to her in a shaken voice the utter truth and let the wall between them succumb and burn to ashes. When he looked her in the eyes then, he saw the light in her eyes dimming, reality striking, the way he desires it never would. All those years he kept her safe from Elias were in vain. Although he received his sister back into his life, there was little Alastair could do but blame himself for shattering the delicate reality they threaded around her, the needless pain he caused her. She needed to comprehend, he told himself, what was behind the mask her father put in front of the world.

But if he never wanted to tell her, did it still count?

And his mother. She looked stiff, if not a bit tired. She held herself straight and proud, yet it was useless. Because what could she do? What either of them could do?

"He accuses me of Parental Alienation," Sona went on, caressing her belly delicately. She peeked at the letter again, and Alastair did as well. Now he realized the sign on the letter, and the fact it seemed unopened but in fact was. "The court is checking out at his claims."

Alastair exhaled through the nose, rocking his leg in rage. "That's nonsense. He's irresponsible alcoholism that can't take care of himself. He was tipsy on the day of the trial! Any feeling we have toward him, it's his own making." Throughout the very beginning of sending the Divorce Complaint to court, Elias had refused to accept he was divorcing. Alastair was awfully aware his father wanted custody over them, and he fought with all his unmighty power to prevent it. When he imagined his younger siblings suffering a fraction of his father's attitude, his nerves set on fire. He was aware his mother fought teeth and nails to proceed in this divorce even without this additional claim.

And Alastair was even more aware they barely had had the money to pay for this.

"What does he want?" Alastair growled. "He knows we don't have that money! He doesn't have the money to pay for this prosecution either!" His father, being put in jail, fired from his job, and wasting their money on wine, probably couldn't even provide Child Support.

"I thought it was going so well," Sona returned his stare, kind and calm. The giving sign she was upset was that rustling sound her roosari made when she fixed it restlessly.

"And Cordelia?" he made to quiet himself on the spot. He spoke in something similar to a whisper. "Bloody hell, she's upstairs. How can we tell her?"

"Language," she warned, then reached and rested her hand on his comfortingly. "She already knows."

He whipped his head in her direction. His mother didn't bat an eyelash. He managed only to let a strangled "What?" escape his mouth. He couldn't wound his mind around it. The father Cordelia looked up to betrayed her, over and over again.

His mother closed her eyes. Maybe she couldn't look at his desperate, fumed face any longer. "She was the one to fetch the letter from the post." Alastair held himself from swearing again and rose to his feet. It's good his mother didn't look at him - he wasn't sure he could look at her either. He was trembling with agitation, his vision red.

"He can't do that. He can't- get to win. Not after all the pain we've been through because of him. That's not fair. That's not fair." He was breathing hard.

"He wouldn't. Alastair, dear, look at me."

Her words were veracious, so was her voice. He couldn't manage himself to do as she said.

"Joonam-"

"I'm going for a walk." He declared strongly, hastily. "I need to chill out. Go and rest, Mother. You shouldn't work yourself out."

And with that, he took his leave. He ignored his mother calling him from behind. He brought no chattel but himself and whatever he bore that instant as he closed the door behind him and rushed down the street to disappear among the many passersby of London. Before even thinking about it, his phone was out, and he typed feverishly and pressed send without waiting to reread his text. He tucked his phone back into his trouser's pocket and took a deep breath.

His father wouldn't desist from haunting him, no matter how much he prayed it to come to an end. When his mother announced she wants a divorce, he - not lacking guilt - felt glad. Each day home was a misery. His mother was confined to bed, his father trailed the streets as if he didn't return from rehab just a month before. And this life was a cage he longed to escape, to set free from the crushing weight on his heart.

His father-

He came to a halt in the middle of the street, letting his head fall all the way back with closed eyes. He wanted to punch a wall or lash out at someone. When he talked with Jem the other day, his cousin told him bottling things inside would only result in a breakdown. He recommended he contact a person he trusted when it all felt too much for Alastair to bear.

Perhaps he should...

No. he shook as head, trying to toss this idea into an imaginary dump bin. There's no need. A nice, solitary stroll is a splendid solution. Alastair needn't anyone to look at his back worriedly like some ailing lost kitten. He didn't need it. He can be fine if he simply composed himself.

He let his legs carry him mindlessly, losing himself in his thoughts. He walked, and walked, and walked. It was a great aid to clear his mind. Even in a crowded London street in the afternoon, he felt the tight cloud of thoughts loosening around his mind. Not for long, however.

He walked near a club - a club he knew very well, but not because of his father. And in the entrance stood a freckled figure, with silken ginger hair and piercing green eyes.

The sight of his ex-boyfriend was enough to startle Alastair out of his thought. They locked eyes, and Alastair nearly lost his footing. Charles blurted something to whomever he was talking to and advanced toward the dark-haired boy. Alastair felt himself go stiff as if he prepared for a hit. Swiftly, he considered turning around and flee, and just as he was about to put this thought into effect, he felt a hand seizing his forearm. While Collecting his confidence, he turned to give Charles a blank glare.

"Alastair." greeted the older boy. "What are you doing here?"

"None of your business," Why did his voice sound hoarse? "Let go of me," Alastair demanded.

Charles's grip on his dark skin did not weaken. It felt warm even though there had been a layer of cloth between them. Alastair attempted to break free, however Charles pressed his hand harder, not enabling Alastair to move. "Come."

And so Alastair was led by his redhead ex-partner to an alley, hidden from any of Charles's companions. Alastair had the sudden urge to laugh - still so furtive. Still so abashed. Charles shoved him into the alley, blocking his way out with his body. "Alastair. I haven't seen you in a long time."

However mad he felt, his voice came out calm. Cold. Indifferent. Like he practiced in front of a mirror when he was small. "That was the point of breaking up with you," he retorted evenly.

Charles ignored his remark. "You haven't answered any of my texts, nor my calls. I ought to speak with you."

A lump rose in his throat. "I can't fathom anything to be said to matter."

He dug his nails in his palm, then understood he'd been doing it and forced himself to relax. Charles had no authority over him. He couldn't reach him now. Yet, it felt far away when Charles studied him like a very interesting political certificate. He hesitated before lifting his hand to touch Alastair's cheek tenderly. Alastair, in turn, backed away. Which was a difficult talk considering Charles still held his hand around his forearm.

"Unhand me," Alastair almost spat. He felt his own shield build up. "Do you want any of your colleagues to see you so close to a man?" The dark-eyed boy knew it would work. Charles always aspired to appear pivotal, even when it was clearly pretentious of his side. Charles's grip loosened him and Alastair hastily put distance between them. Charles gave him a look - one Alastair could only describe as wistful.

"Had I known what I did wrong to make you stop caring for me, I would have made sure to keep you closer to me," Charles said softly.

At first, it sounded almost sweet. Almost. Rather rapidly it turned disgusting as the words sank. Keep you closer, toughen the chains, tell lies to a love-famished soul.

He felt fire spreading in his stomach. Not the good sort of fire - but the kind that consumes everything it touches, that destroys and demolishes and injures. "You didn't know?" Alastair's voice quivered as he spoke, barely tamed anger in every syllable. "Shucks, so what could tell? What could tell you did something wrong when I told you I was upset you were with Ariadne? And later on, when you went and pushed your tongue into Grace's mouth in front of my eyes to make everyone believe you're straight? Or perhaps that whenever I expressed any feeling that wasn't gratitude you grace me with your presence, you said I'm overreacting? "

Charles straightened. "I wasn't bad to you. I tried to give you everything I could."

"Damnit, Charles, not today," Alastair whirled in his place, his words hot and sharp. "That's not on you to decide if you were bad or good to me! You have no right to decide for me. You gave me what you thought would be enough so I won't talk, and I was a boy desperate to be loved." He exhaled slowly. "So no, Charles. You weren't good for me at all."

"You wanted me to out myself for you when I wasn't ready?"

He was never going to be ready, Alastair thought. "If you think I was upset with you because you weren't out, you don't know me at all." A mirthless laugh slipped Alastair's lips. Did Charles even listen to him?

"Don't say that." Charles objected. "I know you better than anyone else. You know that too." he huffed and loosened his tie. "No, that's not it. Do you not love me anymore?"

It was ridiculous. "No, Charles, I don't." The smell hit his nostrils, and the realization dawned on him. Charles's mouth stank from Alcohol, despite not smelling it on his clothes at all.

Ah.

"You're drunk," Alastair condemned. It was almost an accusation, spoke so offhandedly. But he truly didn't care enough for it to be an accusation.

"I drank only a drink or two." Charles dismissed, and he looked so ugly at that moment, Alastair wanted to flee from his presence. "If you didn't want me, don't blame me for why this relationship broke apart. I try to make things right."

It was comedic to watch Charles exculpate himself and put the blame on Alastair, had it been another day. Now, it only pissed Alastair furthermore.

"Stay away from me," his words sounded like acid in his ears. "I am not fond of drunks. Or ex-boyfriends. And you seem to be both."

Charles made a comical face, one in another day Alasair might laugh at. Distantly, he realized now why Cordelia and Sona were so reluctant to break him the news. When it came to this case, and to his father, Alastair was always on his toes. He is still too easily riled by the words and deeds of others sometimes. When he had to tell the court about his deeds revolving around his father - the late-night walks outside to pubs, the frequent help; the fear someone would find out - he poured all of his being to try and help his family. Defend them from Elias. But seemingly it had no use, and all Alastair was left with is his contempt with nowhere to pour it into. It slipped from the cracks of his armor like Lava.

He passed Charles, who no longer blocked the alley, and Charles perked up and said, "We haven't finished talking."

His phone buzzed repeatedly, signaling Kamala had received his previous message. "We are done," Alastair growled, loud. These green eyes widened, and he opened his mouth. To shush him, most probably. However, blood boiled in his ears and his words demanded to be heard. "Unassuming, quiet, dark," Alastair snapped. "A bloody puppet, that's what you want. And I refuse to be your puppet any longer. What is in my words unclear to you? Stay. Away. Should I spell it for you?"

Charles glanced at the sides nervously, looking for leery eyes even though there were none. Alastair couldn't believe it. Charles still tried to subdue him. It made him smirk ruthlessly at the older boy. "But you can't take no for an answer, do you? You think you deserve everything."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," The redhead scoffed, squinting at him. "If you're angry at something, don't take it on me."

"Oh, I will do whatever I want to do," His grin widened viciously." All I do is tell you exactly what I think of you. Does it hurt your white-man-superiority complex?" he mocked with a false sad nod. "Too bad."

His phone started to ring, and he could already tell it was Kamala, worried about what he told her. She was straightforward when she told him once to never hesitate to call her if her help is required. In some of his worst days, it was his best friend that contributed to preventing him from knocking his head in a wall. Moreover, Alastair told Kamala everything about the lawsuit and what they'd been through - the Carstairs saw her like family - and she was nothing but understanding. It took every gram of control in Alastair's body to clasp his phone and say, "I must go."

He didn't wait for an answer.

His phone went quiet in his hand. He pressed a few buttons and gripped the phone close to his ear.

After the fourth ring, someone picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Our place," Alastair's voice was strained. It felt like it came out from far, far away. "Now."

With adrenaline still driving through his system, he headed to his hideout. When life would be too much, he used to wander around town or find his escape in the calm of nature. And if this meant hunkering down next to a fence in Hyde Park, that's his business alone.

His phone raged up, and he felt stable enough to answer. The first thing Kamala said over the call was, "Love, I'm so sorry."

"Yes," Alastair mumbled darkly. "Me too."

Eventually, they hung up, and he sat on the ground, so his legs were against his chest and his arms surrounding them. For however long it'd been, he rested his head on the fence and let his overloaded mind take a break. When it didn't work and his head still throbbed, Alastair kicked at the ground in frustration, raising a cloud of dust. Then he sounded the low noise of feet against the sand, and a long figure climbed the fence he leaned on.

He stared at what Thomas was securing at his hands before he made a noise of annoyance. "Hell with this," he reached his hand, "Bring it over."

He grasped the can of beer, opening it with a loud pssh-pop! The can was cold in his hand, as if fresh from the store, and he took a sip. Then he lowered the can, revealing again the image of Thomas in a hoodie and pajama pants. He looked like he put random combination clothes and went outside, which probably wasn't far from the truth. Alastair didn't have the power to hum appreciatively.

"You sounded like you were crashed by a motorcycle, and then was chewed by the cats and dogs of the neighborhood," Thomas offered. "Thought you might need it."

"No shit," Alastair mumbled. "Thanks." He cradled it to his chest and looked away. Thomas looked a bit worried, but he said no words. As silence as a cat - no, Thomas was better described as a tiger - he went and sat next to Alastair. He opened his own beer can, gulping the drink in big sips.

Alastair had not opened his mouth, and Thomas didn't pressure him. For long moments that stretched even longer than they should, none of them uttered a word. They set together, side by side, surrounded by trees and leaves and the sun sinking from the west. With a big 'Ugh', Alastair dipped his head and slipped into Thomas's arms.

"I don't want you embroiled in this," Alastair murmured, not moving as Thomas started tracing circles on his arm.

Thomas sighed softly, resting his chin on top of Alastair's head, not before he planted a kiss on the line of his hair. "Alright. But you know you can tell me whatever you want, yes?"

"I do," Alastair fell silent for a few seconds. His cheek was against Thomas's pulse point, where he found himself calming down with its steady beat. "I met Charles today."

"Charles?" at this sole word Thomas went rigid, ultimately relaxing as Alastair captured the hand on his arm and intertwined their fingers. "What has happened?"

"Nothing," Alastair answered and he knew without looking Thomas had his adorable face twisted in bewilderment. Therefore he added, reluctantly, "The usual."

Thomas moved to eye him suspiciously, but Alastair's head was still tucked under Thomas's chin. "I wouldn't think you call me if it was nothing."

"I call you for all sort of things. It doesn't have to be because my toxic ex is a dipshit."

"It feels like a low bar."

Alastair chuckled. "It really is."

Silence ensued and the presence of his boyfriend made everything brighter. Later at night, he would wonder how one man could make it so much better, yet now he just felt blessed to have Thomas by his side. A few minutes passed with Alastair closing his eyes and melting into Thomas's hug, while Thomas stroked his back comfortingly.

"Alastair?"

"Mhh."

"Alastair. "

He dug his fingers at the cool ground, taking a deep breath in an attempt to regain his composure. "What?"

He pushed Alastair back gently, and the short boy complied so they were face to face. "Are you alright?"

His dark eyes refused to meet with Thomas's hazel ones. There had been a quiet, "I'm not sure."

Thomas picked at a loose string of his hoodie, and Alastair made a mental note to steal his boyfriend's hoodie and sew it. He sat next to Thomas and reached for the beer, gulping the content of the can. He turned to Thomas, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He furrowed his brows when his boyfriend looked at him oddly, but it soon disappeared from Thomas's face.

Alastair fiddled with the hem of his shirt, and his eyes were yet low on the ground. He sounded rustling by his side and glanced at his boyfriend as he took off his hoodie. Alastair cocked his eyebrow, and Thomas huffed at him with flushed cheeks. He handed him the hoodie. "You - might be cold. It's rather late, and you wear nothing but a T-shirt."

He scanned Thomas's underneath jumper and deemed it not much warming. "And you?"

"I am big, I make a lot of heat. Cellular respiration and all that."

Alastair snorted, shaking his head. "You daft med student."

He found solace in the warm hug of his boyfriend. And wearing his hoodie was almost the same, although he missed the heat. Yet, it was soft and familiar and all Thomas. His smell was enticing to Alastair, and he put it on and sniffed it -indistinguishably - even if Thomas was just a few inches away.

As the sun set, it tinted the forest around them orange.

"You're doing the thing," Alastair commented, causing Thomas to blink.

"The what?" the tall boy asked.

"The thing. That you do." he poked Thomas's side. "You get all pensive and thoughtful and furrows your brows in that adorable way of yours. You caress your rose compass tattoo."

Thomas gave him a slight smile. "Genie has been ecstatic ever since Kamala agreed to join our family trip. I'm afraid my father is going to ask you himself if I won't."

"Ah."

"It's a bad timing, though," Thomas cackled nervously. "Sorry, never mind."

"That's fine, I don't care," Alastair said. "What family trip?"

"We thought to visit mom's country last year, but this year we want to visit some rural parts of England. Uncle Will keeps telling us how visiting North Wells, where his family lived. Eugenia keeps threatening to steal my sweets."

"She certainly would still all your snacks," Alastair speculated. He flapped mindlessly the sleeves of Thomas's hoodie to himself, which were too long for him. Thomas sent him a soft side smile.

"She will," agreed Thomas in false despair, resting his head on the fetch they leaned on. "She's like some sort of sweets monster. The only way to calm her down is to sacrifice our food."

"I know," was Alastair's response. "She's my friend. My very own short chaotic, havoc-causing, maniac goblin friend." It startled a laugh out of Thomas, and he went to rest his hand on Alastair's knee.

"Dad keeps joking he will cancel the trip if not all of the honorary lightwoods join as well. But honestly, I'm not sure he's joking any longer."

"Honorary Lightwoods?"

"He adopted y'all the moment you steeped a foot into our house. You know that." Thomas's voice sounded almost longing. He added, with a good laugh, "I think he favors you over his own children."

Alastair didn't know why he had to be this way, but it caught him off guard. It made a weird pang in his heart to think Gideon Lightwood would consider him his son. Even more so, when he knew his own father would prefer to engage in a foreign bar than to eat with him. Alastair's throat felt thick all of a sudden, and it was hard to breathe. He made a shaky inhale, as soft and thin as paper. Thomas captured that, of course.

"Baby," Thomas whispered. He acted cautiously, like he was afraid to scare Alastair away.

"No," Alastair chocked out. He hid his face in his elbow, struggling to take another breath. "Nope."

It was silent for at least a minute before Thomas piped out, "Alastair joon."

Abruptly, Alastair lifted his head and turned to his boyfriend, a spike of anger ignited."I should be stronger," Alastair burst out, heat in his words, like flames. "It shouldn't - why does it affect me like this? This isn't - nothing has happened, so why-" he cut himself off, watching Thomas's countenance. He was the epitome of calm, deep understanding eyes and soft around the corners. His lips were pressed, and he was utterly handsome. Ridiculous.

Thomas swooped him into a hug, and Alastair didn't accept it. He fought to break loose and jumped on his feet. Raving fear and outrage and agony all mixed together on the tip of his tongue. He felt angry at himself for reacting this way, at Thomas for having such a perfect family, at the world because there was no one to blame for his situation. "A few months ago I still searched for my father in pubs to return him home safely. Now I look for my father from the other side of the courtroom and watch him try to take away my sibling. And my mother - she wouldn't admit it but I know she's stressed. She probably can't even sleep at night without my ass of a father to haunt her! And Charles wouldn't even realize he's in the wrong, because as always, it's just my fault it all broke apart. Mine. Mine alone."

"And Charles is still a jerk, and Mâmân is still unwell, and my goddam father is the worst father of the year," Alastair gritted his teeth. "And I feel so useless. Utterly useless. because I can't do anything about it. The court will prefer my father's white ass to my brown skin. They would think he's a better fit to take care of the child, even it's crystal clear he isn't. He wasn't for us, he will never be. And this poor child - it deserves a real family. And my drunken father is nothing of what it deserves. So how can he try to get custody over it, Thomas? How can they let him? "

"Alastair," his name sang on his boyfriend's tongue was like thick syrup. "You are not useless."

The shorter man flashed at him with a growl. "I couldn't help my father with his problem. I can't help my mom in court. I can't even be a good sibling to Cordelia, so how could I be a good one to the baby-?"

He was shuddering, he perceived, even though the night wasn't very cold. Was he sobbing? he couldn't tell. It was like he felt everything detached from afar. He felt bulky arms close around him, and he didn't protest this time. He tried to catch his breath, albeit it kept escaping him.

"None of this is your fault, Azizam. Life can be unfair to fair people. But you mustn't question yourself because of it." Thomas grazed a big, warm hand on Alastair's cheek, sweeping his tears. "And your love is so profound, it can build bridges. It's so selfless and raw and pure, can't you see it? It's all your heart, all of you, aching because you want those you love to be well. And they will be well, Alastair. They can move mountains because it's you on their side. They are lucky to have you." His voice lowered to a whisper.

"This is just too much," Alastair shook his head. "I just- want to be out of my racing mind. I want some quiet."

Thomas gave him a sad look. "I can't tell you it will pass soon. But you're not alone, Alastair. You have many people to hold you when you feel you're about to fall. All you have to do is look."

They set there in their hideout, and Thomas leaned in and left a gentle kiss on Alastair's lips. A promise.

Alastair tilted his head and closed his eyes. "What did I do to deserve you?"

"If anything, it's the opposite. You're spectacular," Thomas leaned in again, so their foreheads and noses touch. It startled a bubbled giggle out of Alastair, and Thomas smirked. He repeated it again and again and again. Until Alastair started to believe his words.

63 notes · View notes

fuckingdeadbutroyal · 4 years ago

Text

Jasonette July- Soulmate AU- Part 2

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 -

“How long has this been going on?”, Damians voice was flat. An outsider would maybe even perceive it as bored, but his brothers heard him. Damian Wayne was horrified. “Five and a half days now, to be precise. We have heard of the earthquake but we didn’t know about the metas. That’s why we’re here, save the citizens and catch the-” “How did we not know of any metas in Paris? Why are we only coming to help them now? Look at this place!”, Nightwing interrupted his father, in Jasons opinion rightfully so. Paris was not what he remembered from the posters and booklets he had seen. The city could have lost WW2 and even then it would probably look better than it currently did. “That’s international matters, we’re not even meant to be here but it got out of control so I asked Red Robin to investigate. Now stop complaining and start working.”, Bruce scolded his adoptives and, leaving no room for further interruption, began giving out orders. Dick, Jason, Stephanie and Damian were on citizen-saving duty, while Tim stayed at the manor and guided them per earpiece. Bruce, Cass, Duke and Barbara were on metawatch™, meant to collect more information on the cause of destruction, aswell as the heroes Tim had mentioned in his report. One final tech-check later the formerly crowded rooftop was deserted and Paris had a new crew of support in form of bat-themed vigilantes.

-------------------------

Jason felt...sad. Deeply, desperatly heartbroken. He remembers feeling that way when he first discovered his fathers lack of avenging the death of his second son. But now? Of course, the sight he was currently enduring was horrific. He was sorry it had to come to this, frustrated his hands just weren’t enough to help every Parisian in pain. But that desperation? His inhumane tiredness? The way his whole body just felt numb, as if he were in so much pain his senses just wouldn’t- no couldn’t keep up? He knew it was out of place, his brothers were okay after all. Even Dick, the most emotional one out of his siblings, was much more focused than Jason. He knew it had to do with his soulmate, at least he guessed as much. The thought of them being somewhere in this city, hiding in one of those hyper-secure shelters he had seen while rummaging through the collapsed buildings and pulling out everyone he could find...it was unnerving. Though somehow he knew that that wasn’t the case.

Upon first taking in the sight of Paris’ ruins Red Hood just knew where he was and what streets he was aiming for. He knew where the shelters were, could guide the civilians towards them and even recognized some of the buidings, even though there was nothing left but dust and dirt. Jason had a gut feeling telling him that all those things weren’t actually his knowledge. It had to be his soulmates. They knew everything he needed to know about the city, they recognized it from above. But one piece of information, which now that Timmy has properly updated them about Paris’ situation should have been absolutely unavoidable, was missing. What do those shelters look like from the inside?

Why doesn’t his soulmate know?

----------------------------------------

Marinette was on autopilot. It has been four days since her parents death. She hasn’t slept, hasn’t eaten and hasn’t stopped moving. Chat has already collapsed twice, which ended up with her carrying him to one of their recharging-shelters in the water and spending ungodly amounts of time trying to find food and water for him aswell as holding him in place while he slept, hoping to avoid his otherwise certain death by drowning. “What a sad end it would be”, the girl thought to herself, “all that effort, all that pain, and we could just loose it all to a petty accident. Not that there is much left to save...”

She wasn’t going to admit it out loud, but Ladybug, the hero and saviour of Paris, did no longer care about winning. She didn’t think of saving those people who were praying in her name, praying to her. She didn’t believe in god and oh Kwami did she not believe in herself. What she did believe in, though, was revenge. She wanted to kill that dusty bitch, even if it was the last thing she would do. Ladybug didn’t care about the victim. She knew for herself that if she were the one who did this to her beloved City of Love, she could no longer live with herself. She wanted to kill the akuma and even though a voice deep inside her was telling her otherwise, trying to stop her and arguing that this was not what her parents would have wanted, Marinette did not care. She was going to free the petite akuma and then tear it apart with her very own teeth. And guess who’s next? “That’s right, I’m coming for your ass, Shitmoth.”

Her voice woke the boy next to her. She hasn’t even realised how her train of thought has surfaced into the real world until Plagg, who was sleeping on the blondes stomach, started grumbling in despleasure about how his pillow shouldn’t be moving. Adrien sat up, not meeting Ladybugs eyes as he took the cheese she was handing him and giving it to the suddenly awake and alert Kwami who, as always, swallowed it whole. It was kind of nice, reassuring, watching him do something Adrien has formerly perceived as highly annoying. Back then, before “The End of the World”, as he now called it, has fallen from the sky. Or rather dug it’s way out from six feet under, since the main cause of destruction were the earthquakes. Destruction. Thinking of it made Adriens gag-reflexes act up. He hated this akuma. Not only for the obvious reasons. No, Adrien hated how useless he himself felt because of it. Why should he cataclysm something while he’s trying to stop Dirtface from doing so? It was highly contraproductive and Chat could not stand it. It was like watching the person you hate most, fan-girl about something you love. Kind of ruins the experience. Adrien didn’t know if he could use his power the way he did before, ever again. The only upside to it was, that he didn’t have to recharge as often and was therefore capable of protecting his partner whenever she had to hide.

As long as he didn’t fucking collapse from exhaustion, of course.

“I fainted again, didn’t I?”, he asked, shame crawling into his every pore. He was hoping to avoid that. The first time already came at the price of his identity, though luckily Ladybug has been quick enough to hide him before anyone else could catch a glimpse. Adrien wasn’t aware of it, but once Mari managed to securely position him on one of the upside-down-boats benches, she fell into a hysterical fit of laughter. She cried, she felt as if she were about to choke, as if she were about to finally explode into all those shattered pieces her heart now consisted of. Her laughter, though, showed none of these emotions. An outsider would be afraid to come near her, her parents would not be able to recognize her, she herself would have been disturbed by that sight. If the Joker were there to see it, he would have had to give his crown to her, for her laugh was scarier than any Jokers could ever be.

----------------------

Marinette just nodded and waited for Chat to suit back up. She didn’t think of his collapses as embarassing. Instead, Ladybug was highly impressed by his skill and endurance. She knew he didn’t have the luxury of someone taking the hit for her, sleeping and eating instead of her. For so long Mari has been trying to convice herself that she realy was, just like Adrien, just like Chat, alone. She wanted to believe that her soulmate was dead, wanted to live and not give a damn about that extra source of pain, which is the only thing she has ever thought of, when it came to feeling any kind of relationship towards her bonded. How could she love what brings her torture? How could she want to love the pain? Now though, with death being all around her, no-one she could turn to and time playing against her...Marinette was relying on them. She would not be able to surive this without her soulmate sleeping instead of her, would have probably fallen to the hands of malnutrition, if it weren’t for them feeding her through that inexplicable bond between their souls.

Adrien did not have that. He was born without a soulmate, which wasn’t anything unusual. After all, more than half of the worlds population were either born without a soulmate or simply existed during a different century than their significant others.

Just like Nino, just like Chloe, just like Nathaniel, Kagami and Luka: Adrien isn’t going to stay by Ladybugs side forever. She knew that now. That was okay, though. Because now she was certain of one thing. Her soulmate was alive and, according to her intensifying tiredness as well as that energizing tingling keeping her body up and working, they were on their way to save her.

That carries a tiny problem though.

She had to avoid getting help. She wouldn’t let it happen again.

--------------------------------------------------

HI! First of: Thank you so much for the amazing feedback, I am so fucking grateful you have no idea (or you do? idk. THANK YOU ILY)

This story has gotten much longer than I had planned but tbh I love it. There’s a part 3 and probably a part 4 coming, Though I’ll post it tomorrow ‘cause I gotta write it and like, live life a bit.

Critique and any kind of feedback is very welcome!

I will most probably continue Jasonette July, this is so much more fun than I expected. So see you tomorrow \o/

Thanks for reading^^

P.S.: There's finally some proper Jasonette on the horizon☄

#jasonette #jasonette july #jasonette soulmate au #soulmate au #batfam #maribat #maribat fanfic #jason todd #jason todd x marinette dupain-cheng #marinette dupain-cheng #soulmate bruises au #ladynoir #red hood #ladybug #ml ladybug #angst

145 notes · View notes

jokin-around · 5 years ago

Photo

1am trek to Rite-aide in a Batman kigurumi for a bottle of cold syrup and some ice cream

Fic under the cut🎉🎉 ⬇⬇⬇

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19826074

from beneath a pile of blankets a color drained clown groaned miserably, the sound somewhat muffled by the assortment pretty plastic bobbles filling up the half deflated kitty pool they laid in haphazardly.

The clown in question was Gotham's very own mage of mischief. and much as pain played into his game he absolutely HATED being sick.

Funny thing was, Jay didn’t ever get sick. Period.

With the slew of mystery chemicals constantly floating around in his blood he’d always thought he’d be immune to something as innocuous as a cold. yet here he was stewing in misery, surrounded by a sea of used tissues.To say this was the first time he'd spent the wee hours of the night feeling like garbage would be a lie, but it was definitely the first time he’d felt so unprepared for an ailment.

All that considered, He wouldn’t mind the discomfort if he wasn't so hopelessly bored and… not to mention… alone.

Harley, who was probably busy gardening at the moment, hadn’t answered his calls and none of the other rogues would bother coming to his aid if he asked… they didn't like him very much. He didn’t know why and hardly cared but right now he honestly wished he was better at making friends. Of course, Bud, his lovely hyena who was snoring audibly in the other corner of the room, kept him company on long lonely days, but a dog’s unconditional love could only go so far.

He’d been in his room for hours at this point but as the bat shaped clock on his wall struck 1:00 Jay finally decided he’d had enough.

Throwing the blankets aside, sending foam balls bouncing around the room in the process, Jay sat up, hair a mess, rings around his tired eyes, and stood. Trying his best to ignore the how the world spun like a fun top.

He didn’t need Harley or ANY of those other stupid bozo’s. He could fend for himself just fine and he wasn't about to let some stupid head cold keep him down. Without any further thought Jay grabbed his coat, put on shoes, and headed out the door with a pop-gun in his pocket, looking an absolute mess. Grateful for Gotham's shady midnight darkness --------------------------------

It didn’t take long for the clown to reach his destination, Nite-aid pharmaceuticals was right down the street, just close enough to glide the whole way on a pair of unsteady heelys.

When he entered the store the place was mostly empty except for a few unfortunate stragglers. Night owls looking for late-night smokes and liquor as busted fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered above them... A few patrons turned to glance at him warily, not recognizing the clown out of makeup but suspicious nonetheless. Their failure to turn-tail at first sight would be a mistake they'd soon regret as the unkempt clown lifted his pop-gun in the air and lazily pulled it's trigger.

Now a normal play pistol would’ve gone off with an amusingly harmless pop, but Jay liked to personalize his toys. When the cork shot out the sound pierced through the nights silence like a firecracker, a waft of confetti and billowing green smoke flying up with it in an explosion of noxious, candy scented, color.

The fumes quickly spread through the small store, hot boxing it with chemicals that sent all who breathed it into a frenzied fit. The few unlucky customers present dropped anything they held and nearly toppled over each other as they ran screaming with laughter into the night.

At the back though, a store clerk, who seemed to be bared behind his counter, gagged and giggled as he writhed on the floor with his arms clenched around his sids, too disoriented by now to jump to freedom or even unlatch the door leading out.

As Joker came closer the man backed up, amused yet scared half to death of what would happen as the clown peered over the counter and examined him silently.

A few beats passed before Joker let out a small sigh and mentally made a note to tweak his smilex a tad as he wordlessly opened the gate and let the poor, gasping, employee run free, watching him trip over his own feet a few times as he did. His patented giggle concoction seemed a little too potent this time around, he’d have to fix it sometime….

Soon the joint was empty and joker was alone once more. The whole store now nuisance free and it’s contents perfectly ripe for the taking.

Humming a tune to himself Jay sashayed over to the medicinal isle and eyed over his options. All the keysmashed names and multicolored boxes seemed to meld together the longer he stared. he had no idea which one would be his miracle cure and the way his head swirled made it hard to concentrate on all the teeny-tiny words in front of his heavy feeling eyes. Instead of thinking Jay took a bag and filled it with whatever looked right. If he overdosed on Benadryl and Tylenol instead of Nyquil, so be it.

Before heading out Jay decided to take anything else he thought he might need to feel better including a pint of mint-chocolate chip ice-cream from the fridges in back, a page of funnies and a bargain bin DVD copy of Roger Rabbit .

--------------------------

As Jay walked out he heard a low rumble coming from a few blocks away, before he was able to recognize the telltale roar of the Batmobile, the powerful car had already charged its way down the street swerving to a sudden screeching halt in front of the small drug store as blinding headlights pointed directly at Jay, temporarily disorienting the already discombobulated clown and exposing his unfortunate appearance.

As Jay clumsily shielded his eyes a dark figure exited the tech loaded vehicle and slowly floated closer. Soon a tall shadow loomed over him, blocking the stunning beams of light. Jay slowly peered up to meet a pair of cold blue slits.

"Batman..…?" said Jay, sounding somewhat surprised despite knowing better

“Shoulda known you’d be here…. you're not gonna arrest me are you?" He asked pitifully

The Bat seemed to examine him for a moment, blue lenses eyeing him up and down. Jay was suddenly very aware of how he must have looked, he hadn't combed his hair, or shaved, or bathed, he was 99% percent sure he'd grabbed a mix-matched pair of heelys on the way out and he was currently wearing a jacket over a onesie despite the fact he was cooking like a hotdog in a microwave, evident by the beads of cold sweat trailing down his face….

His bare, scar riddled, face….

He began to turn red with embarrassment as he averted his weary gaze from the other man's calculated scrutiny, shoulders tensing

"Look are you gonna do your thing or can I take my stolen goods and go?" He asked impatiently, exhaustion in his voice

"My Bat-monitor says you have a 104 degree fever" the Bat states. No inflection.

"right, Which is why I need to get home like, now- " a large hand placed itself on his shoulder as he crouched to collect his stuff from the ground

"What you NEED is medical attention" Batman insisted, gently firming his grip. Jay, stood up, shaking his head in protest despite feeling more and more lightheaded with every passing second

"n-no I-I'm fine, i'll be fine! I just need t- "

Before he could protest further, handcuffs were promptly clasped around his limp wrists with a snug click, Jay looked at his shiny new bracelets and gave Bruce a sharp glare.

"bastard." he grumbled

"You'll thank me later." Bats stated cooly as he took the clown by the scruff of his hood and escorted him to the Batmobile. Jay struggled slightly at first, ragdolling as the Bat pulled him along, the fight in him quickly dissipated though as his energy slowly faded and he realized how shortsighted he'd been to not expect a situation like this. Of course the Bat would be here. you could hardly J-walk in this city without his big dumb ears hearing about it somehow.

But despite the inconvenience he wasn't mad… just… unprepared

he and the Bat had a special little relationship and after the day he'd had, that flowing black cape could be considered a sight for sore eyes. But this particular situation was a little different from their usual routine. Up there on the rooftops they were perfectly matched equals. Jay fast and unpredictable, Bats strong and disciplined. right now, as Jay was silently chauffeured to an impressive looking street demon, the scales were tipped, and instead of being fast he was weak and slow and practically nodding off by the time Bats gently placed his body in it’s passenger seat.

The rumble of the monsters powerful engine shook Jay from his daze and his unfocused eyes were greeted by a colorful array of buttons and knobs that decorated the car's interior.

"Ooohh" he awed quietly

"Don't. Touch. ANYTHING." The Bat warned sternly.

"Fuuuh-INE" he complained. "You don't mind if i eat in here tho right?" He asked as he fished into his bag and took out his pint of ice cream.

Batman shot him a look of disapproval.

"Ah, Don't worry- " Jay assured as he struggled to get the tub open "I won't get any on your p-precious lea-ther interio- " a bout of violent coughs interrupted his snarky remark…

The Bat sighed

"here, let me" he took the tub and quickly ripped it open, before placing it back in Jays lap

"OH HO HO thanks, Armstrong." He teased

"Whatever… Just pipe down and take this." Bruce reached into his glorified fanny pack and pulled out a small green pill.

Jay eyed it curiously.

"S' not some funky sedative is it?" He asks cautiously

Bruce shook his head….

"It's a… chemical agent I made special for you… I uh… mix it with my sedatives to counteract your resistance to them… it won't put you to sleep but It should have the same effect on those meds i’m paying for" he explained, nodding at the cherry flavored syrup Jay swiped.

With a bit of hesitation Jay picked up the small capsule and eyed it further. It was rather large and filled with a bright green gel.

"....well that's pretty... thoughtful of you I guess. "

Bruce looked away briefly, he'd created the compound last time Jay was out cold on his operating table using a sample of his blood. He'd put it to other uses since, but it had ultimately saved the clown's life last time around… that said he should've known Jay might find his over-preparedness odd

After a few beats of silence, Jay bit the bullet, washing it down with a scoop of ice cream. Help from the Bat, no matter how uncalled for, was usually help he could trust, besides he thought it was funny how often the Bat modded his tech just for his sake. Was it obsessive? Romantic? he couldn’t tell, but he was definitely flattered…

With a small contented smile on his face, Bruce turned back to the wheel and revved his engine "Alright clown... buckle up"

-------------------------------------------------------------------

It didn't take long for the two to arrive at the Batcave. The ride there quick and uneventful. Bruce didn’t have to bother with a blindfold or knockout gas to cover his tracks, Jay had passed out about halfway there and even then, it wouldn't have mattered much. He was sure Jay already knew it’s location despite being in the dark about...other things.

Exiting the car and stalking to the other side with his cape flowing behind him. Bruce opened the door to the passenger seat and watched as the winged doors lifted to reveal a sleeping figure cradling a half melted pint of ice cream.

“Is this the 'guest' you mentioned earlier sir?” Alfred inquired as he came to greet his kevlar clad son.

“It is.” He answered softly as he slowly lifted the pint from the clowns arms and handed It to the older man

"You somehow failed to mention the guest in question was your colorful new nemesis” the servant jested, raising a brow

"Uh… Forgot to I guess" Bruce shrugged, knowing full well he’d swept a detail or two under the rug to avoid another scolding from his free-spoken butler.

There was a pause of silence as they both watched the peaceful perriot rest

“...If only he was this quiet all the time, Gotham would be a much less hectic place… “ said Alfred after a moment.

“Perhaps” said Bruce. eye’s never breaking away as his chest rose and fell

Alfred, of course, had more to say but decided to keep it to himself as not to sour the moment he was having.

“Well this is going in the fridge... a pot of hot soup should be ready shortly. Just enough for the both of you”

“Thanks al”

Alfred nodded then went on his way as Bruce turned his attention back to Jay.

Although he was used to seeing the jolly jester in a more upkept state, he had to admit he was… striking... even like this…

When that perpetually cheery smile of his finally relaxed, it was replaced by soft supple lips and butter knife sharp cheekbones that framed his face in a way rarely seen outside of hollywood.

Gingerly, Bruce reached beneath his guest and lifted him from his seat.

It always surprised him how light he was, not that Jay was very big to begin with but… the way he threw a punch, took hits like they were nothing… it made it easy to forget he was only about 5'4"... perhaps even smaller minus the mane of hair that currently draped over his tired face

With the rest of the man’s features veiled, Bruce’s eyes were drawn to the two deep scars which curled from the corners of his mouth like a jagged grin. They were long healed but Bruce had a feeling the wounds cut deeper than eyes could see...

As Bruce thumbed away a few stray locks of green to get a better look, Jay began to stir. Hurriedly Bruce stepped over to the med bay section of the cave and laid his guest down before his eyes began to flutter open

"W-where?" He asked groggily as his vision focused

"Batcave."

“Again?” He muttered while sitting up “This gonna be a regular thing?”

“Were you expecting a hospital?” Bruce asked.

Jay rubbed his face

“guess not….” Hospitals we’re never really an option for people like them he supposed. Too many nosy doctors and prodding hands… bad memories...

“Here” a small cup of cherry liquid appeared in front of him, held by a black glove. He took it slowly.

“Can't have the whole bottle??”

“Why would you want to?”

Jay shrugged and took the shot

“I dunno…”

Bruce let that comment slide and stepped closer to check his temperature again.

"How are you feeling?"

" terrible" Jay replied miserably. Bruce looked at his monitor, the clown was stable at about 105°. It wasn't common for a cold to come with a fever but Jay was... an uncommon person.

" think a cool shower might help?"

The clown smiled "...mm… maybe…. You aren't offering to join me are you?"

Bruce scoffed "Not with you like this I'm not…"

Jay rose an eyebrow.

"er… not that I would if you…. Weren't…" Bruce's cheeks went pink for a moment. Though he'd looked away he could tell Jay was smiling even wider. Probably holding in a laugh too.

"Uhm...alright uh… washroom's that way, use what you want, shampoo, conditioner, whatever, I can always buy more"

Jay hopped down from the table and stretched with a moan

"I'm sure you can, rich boy."

"Huh?" Bruce tensed, taken aback by the term usually used to describe his alter ego.

"being best buds with Bruce Wayne must have some pretty sweet perks"

Bruce sighed, allowing himself to breath again as Jay made his way to the shower "right.."

_____________

It didn't take long for Jay to return, He made quick work of cleaning up and was soaped, rinsed and dried within a few minutes. His greasy mop now a fluffy, blow dried, up-do And his mind fog free.

The bouncy mane of curls caught Bruce's attention as the clown re-entered the main room, freshly scrubbed, lemon scented and humming a tune.

"You look a little better…. " Bruce complimented

"Just a little?" Said Jay, faking disappointment.

"Uh… w...well" Bruce stammered.

"Just teasing u dummy." He said with a smile as he took a seat on the bannister next to the Bat-computer.

"Right… well.... I see you're back to your normal self" said Bruce, returning to his work

"Mostly." Jay smiled

"Good… that's good." There was some silence taken up by Bruce's fingers tapping the Bat-computer's interface

"Hey." Jay interrupted

"Yeah?" Said Bruce

"Aren't you scared of catching my cold-cooties or something?" The clown inquired

"No." Bruce answered bluntly.

"Why not?"

"bats don't get colds"

Jay rose an eyebrow.

"Oh really?"

"It's true."

"Mhm…"

Suddenly the sound of a throat clearing interrupted their banter.

"are you two quite done, or will supper have to wait?"

The odd couple turned to face Alfred who was holding a silver platter somewhat impatiently.

"er...Now is fine Alfred"

The butler nodded and gracefully waltzed between them to set the plate down. Removing it's dome to reveal a piping hot stew, stuffed with chicken and veggies, with fresh baked biscuits on the side. It’s aroma was even more enticing than it’s appearance

"Wow this is nothing like that Campbell's stuff" said Jay, eyes wide.

"I should hope not.” Alfred huffed. “ I didn't go to culinary school to cook from a can"

“Thank’s Al, it looks great”

"Of course sir… Oh, and, sir?"

"Yeah, Al?"

"You invited this man into your home… least you could do is give him a proper seat"

Jay was still sitting on the banister, swinging his legs happily.

“oh…. Right” he pressed a button and a second chair raised from the floor “i’m… usually the only person down here, sorry.”

“What about that kid?”

“Robin? Never sits still, likes the banister “

“Huh, Go figure….” Jay plopped down in his seat and spun around a few times before grabbing his bowl and testing the soup… to put it lightly, the taste was beyond heavenly.

“Oh my god….”

“Glad to see it suits your taste mr.Jay, young Bruce would fuss about having to eat it every time he was under the weather….”

Bruce a blushed a tint

Jay smiled

“I guess bat’s DO get the sniffles”

“Wasn't a bat back then, doesn’t count”

“Yes it does.”

“No it doesn't”

“Yes it- “

“Children!”

They froze… Alfred gave them a stern look. Free of malice but intimidating nonetheless.

“Do try to behave yourselves, I have enough trouble with robin as is and he’s much better mattered than the both of you”

“Yes, Alfred”

“Sorry, Alfred…” they apologized

The butler one last look,turned on his heels and left the room in silence.

“Man you’re butler’s mean…” Jay whispered

“Don't worry, it’s just an act…. I think…” As they both returned to their gourmet supper Jay suddenly recalled the DVD he'd brought with him.

"Oh HEY! Can we watch a movie???"

"Movie?"

"Yeah!" Jay scrambled over his bag and ran back with the box in his hand.

"Roger Rabbit! It's a classic!"

"Never seen it."

"Really? well we'll have to fix that… it's a detective story! you'll like it!…"

Bruce slowly took the case, studying its colorful cover…

"Suppose… I'll... take your word for it."

Reluctantly, Bruce popped a hatch on the Bat-computer and let the movie play on one of it's many monitors. Jay sitting back with a satisfied smile as Bruce sunk deeper into his work...

Or at least, tried to.

Jay's amused chuckles here and there made it hard to concentrate but the sound wasn't… unpleasant. Every now and then the clown would tap his shoulder and tell him to pay attention to a favorite scene or line if his… eyes flitting between him and the screen, searching for a reaction, however small or unreadable … smiling whenever Bruce's lips curled even a millimeter or two.

As the night continued, Bruce recalled the large home theater he had upstairs in the mansion

50 seats and rarely more than one taken at a time...

He imagined himself up there now with his arm around the other man's shoulders, sharing snacks and a large blanket, huddled close…

Perhaps he could’ve come up with some elaborate lie about "Bruno" allowing visitors in his humble abode, but as much warmth as the thought gave him, it was greatly overpowered by his own paranoia…

He wasn’t quite ready to break that barrier no matter how much he wanted too...

So maybe not today…

But maybe later….

Someday.

After a few passing moments Bruce realized Jay’s little interruptions had stopped and turned to find the man fully asleep on the chair beside him. With a light sigh, Bruce carefully removed his cape and draped it over the man just as he’d done before a year or so ago, Quietly calling for Alfred to prepare the Batcave’s guest bed.

With all the cordial tenderness in the world, Bruce lifted his nemesis and carried him downstairs. for now, somewhere in between all the imaginary lines they’d drawn in the sand, just this close was close enough.

#batman #lego batman #batjokes #jokeboi au #fanfic #my art

927 notes · View notes

notoriously-blonde · 5 years ago

Text

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

The Forgotten, Chapter 7: Stupid Thoughts

Read on AO3 here

[Summary] Life is hard for teenagers. Growing up, learning to be responsible. And thoughts, those are distracting. Especially the stupid ones. Even more so when to figure out weird, timeline, magic stuff. And when an akuma is based off of one.

--------

For a few seconds, Marinette was frozen. His words not registering properly. Then, all at once, it was the only thing occupying her mind. Whatever she came here to tell Adrien and Tikki completely lost to the void that has destroyed her life.

After a week of isolation, and emotional torture, someone had finally been able to see her! Talk to her and hear her!

...but they have no memory of you. Pessinette, the She-devil she whispers to her.

“Do I know you?” Pessinette continues to torture Marinette with his words.

‘No one realizes you were gone, what makes you think they ever can?’

Flashes of memory run through her mind, egged on by Pessinette.

No pictures of her in her parent’s house.

Tikki having no memory of the last three years together.

Chat Noir not remembering who Ladybug is.

Adrien not remembering who Ladybug is.

Adrien not remembering her.

“But they can see you now!” Optinette’s voice rings through like a sweet chime. “Plagg and Adrien can see you, can hear you. Can talk with you. You can finally get to help them bring you back! You can tell them that there are people to bring back!”

“Hey... are you okay?” Adrien’s voice breaks her from her thoughts, and Marinette looks up to see Chat Noir, crouched down in front of her. His eyes full of concern.

She hadn’t realized that she can curled up further upon registering his words, until her body loosened up.

“Yeah, thanks Cha-...” Her sentence trails off as she remembers what happened a few hours ago. This boy in leather, her partner, her silly, adorable, goofball of a partner is Adrien Agreste. The love of her life. The boy who has sacrificed himself for her safety and the safety of Paris. Repeatedly. The boy who she has pushed away over and over, in favor of… his other self. Her eyes widen. How could she have forgotten this! If even for a few seconds, how could she forget this! And! Since the akuma last week, he’s been through even worse. He even has bruises! Maybe even broken bones, or a concussion! All because she was stupid…

“Nope, what happened was not because you weren’t stupid. That akuma was on the down low and had powers to make it so that no one could remember them or who they were. Just because your nature is to help people doesn’t mean that when it goes wrong it’s your fault!” Optinette’s voice sounds from afar.

Honestly, she doesn’t want to. She just wants the pain to be over. She can’t handle being so emotionally tortured anymore. But, then… how could she ever help Adrien again? The citizens? Could there be another Ladybug if she gives up? Could she just leave the earrings and move on without costing the world everything?

No, she couldn’t do that to Tikki. To Adrien. To Paris. She must fight on.

Adrien’s, now neon green, slitted, Cat eyes, framed by a dark helmet, bore into hers; which are sure to be a dull blue, almost white, after all she went through.

He does know her. And it’s a very long story, but they aren’t exactly short on time. If she’s going to come back, she must tell them everything.

She should probably start talking... Adrien is starting to shift on his feet, his eyes no longer locked on hers, but darting around the room. He’s anxious. The poor, sweet boy.

“It’s a long story.” She begins, smiling slightly when his eyes snap to hers again.

“But, first, I should answer your question...” his head cocks to the side, his cat ears flopping with the movement, the tufts of hair making the gesture more adorable. “Yes. You do know me. Just... I-you... you can’t-“ her voice cracks and she can’t voice anything else.

Chat falls back, his eyes wide with terror. But not terror of her. Terror of how he couldn’t even recognize someone he supposedly once knew.

“You- you might want to go sit down somewhere more comfortable. It’s going to take a long time.” He nods, and shakily stands up and shuffling over to the futon. As he flops down onto the futon, Plagg releases the transformation and zips off to Tikki.

Taking this opportunity, she takes a few deep breaths, steeling herself for the sure-to-be emotional rollercoaster of recounting her life and the past week.

As she stands, Adrien calls over to Plagg, his eyes never leaving where he last saw Marinette. Though, she isn’t there, instead sitting on the floor right before him; but he doesn’t know that. “She’s still here, right?”

Why he would think she would disappear if he couldn’t see her escapes her understanding, but she hasn’t really seen how Plagg and Adrien interact. It should be fun to see how it plays out. So, she sits quietly, listening to them talk.

With a sigh, Plagg glances over to Marinette from his place with Tikki, then turns his gaze on his young wielder. “Yes, she is still here.” He then returns his attention to his counterpart.

Both Tikki and Marinette can’t help but giggle a bit at Adrien’s dumbfounded expression.

“Why can’t I see her then?” Adrien finally tears his eyes from where he probably thinks she is and crosses his arms as he questioningly raises an eyebrow at his kwami.

“Because I’m a god and you aren’t,” Plagg huffs out, “now, leave me be.” Tikki giggles at his response. Marinette only cocks her head to the side, her eyes sure to be glinting with amusement.

Adrien looks slightly miffed, but soon, a smug smile crosses his lips, “Tikki?” He asks, “can you see her?” His eyes never leaving Plagg’s in a silent challenge.

Tikki looks around the room, then sighs dejectedly. “No... I can’t see her... I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Tikki.” Marinette mumbles, not intending for anyone to hear it, and is surprised when Plagg looks at her sadly before returning his attention to his charge.

“Why is that, Plagg? She’s a god just like you.” Adrien’s voice is laced with smugness, obviously thinking he’s won so easily.

“Well, technically, we aren’t gods, per se-“ Tikki tries to start, but neither cats are listening. She’ll have to ask Tikki about it later, she’s always thought they were gods. What else could they be?

“One: goddess. She is a goddess. Two: That’s because I’m better than her.” Plagg puffs his chest out.

Tikki hits him

“OW! Okay, fine I’m not better than her... most of the time, I just have better eyesight!”

Tikki hits him once more.

“What? It’s true!” Plagg defends, pushing away from Tikki and rubbing his tiny abused body.

Tikki huffs angrily but doesn’t give chase. Plagg eyes her warily, slowly drifting back to her.

“Well, if no one else can see her...” Adrien let’s his sentence trail off, his smirk widening with Plagg’s eyes.

“No! Don’t. Just... No.” Plagg zips close to Adrien’s face, squeezing his cheeks, glaring into his eyes. “I haven’t eaten yet.”

Adrien raises his other eyebrow, “I didn’t even use the powers. You don’t need to recharge.”

Plagg scoffs, “I have you my amazing eyesight! Do you know how exhausting that is?”

Adrien cocks his head to the side, “You’ve never complained about it before.”

“This is different!” Plagg defends, squeezing his cheeks even more.

“I don’t believe you,” Adrien’s smirk widens even more, “Plagg, Cla- “

“No!” Plagg clamps his paws over Adrien mouth. Angry, green cat eyes glaring into amused, green, human eyes.

This has been going on for too long. No matter how amusing it is to see them banter like this, it gets annoying pretty fast.

“You know, Plagg, you could just be a translator.”

Wait, translator. She isn’t speaking a different language! She shouldn’t have said translator! She should have said medium. Or something like that. Just repeat her words to Adrien.

She opens her mouth to rephrase what she said, but Plagg turns to her and narrows his eyes.

Great, now Plagg hates her idea. She should just lea-

“Actually, I have a better idea.” He’s turned back to Adrien again.

“I could just translate for you.”

Awesome. Now he’s using her own words against her.

Adrien screws his face up in thought. Making her breath catch in her throat. What if he hates that? What if he thinks she’s stupid! What if-

“Fine. But I don’t think it’s quite translating. She can hear me, right?” He pauses, “It’s more like repeating her words.

“Which,” Plagg seems smug, “is what translating is. Just repeating one’s words to someone else so that they understand it. I’m just not changing anything.”

Adrien is silent for a moment. “Alright, I’ll give you this one. What do you want?”

“I’ll let the first comment slide, but what do you mean by: ‘What do you want’?!” Plagg’s asks incredulously, throwing his arms into the air.

"You never do anything without wanting something in return." Adrien says, scratching Plagg's head.

"NOt true!" Plagg shouts, batting away Adrien's hand.

"Give me one example of you being selfless." Adrien says smugly.

Plagg is silent for a moment, glaring at his charge.

“That’s what I thought.” Adrien says, sounding like he just won a battle.

"Anyway, just give me more cheese." Plagg says, turning away from Adrien.

"Okay." Adrien agrees with a light laugh

“Perfect,” Plagg then turns his eyes to Marinette. “Start talking.”

“Plagg!” Both Adrien and Tikki shout

“... please."

Raising a brow at Plagg’s antics, an invisible-to-all-except-Plagg brow, Marinette starts relaying her life, starting from the beginning.

The day Hawkmoth rose. How ladybug had failed at first. How, the morning after the akuma attack, while at school, she saw this one kid-who looked to be friends with her school bully, Chloé - sticking gum onto her seat. Or, that’s what it looked like. Then, at the end of the school day, he had explained everything to her. She had fallen in love with him in that moment.

Plagg makes a gagging sound when he finished relating that bit of information, asking why this part is important. Tikki and Adrien both scold him.

She forges onward.

After that, she explains how, with this huge crush on this boy, - another gag - she had obsessed over him. Made him a present for his birthday. How she got so nervous around him, stuttering, mixing up her words.

She related every single interaction to them. Of course, Plagg has complained and begged Adrien to transform when got to Story Weather. That was only a fraction of her stories.

“O-Kay? Um, well, that’s all... nice? How does this relate to you knowing... me?” Chat asks, his head tilting again. Creating an oh-so-adorable picture of a battle-hardened kitten full of pure curiosity.

“Ah, um, well...” Darn, even now - when he doesn’t remember any of those interactions, it’s almost impossible to get it out.

“I-I-...” gosh darn it Marinette, just blurt it out! She shouts internally to herself.

Chats eyes are wide.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“Well... not so much as said it as... shouted it?” He cringes a little when she slaps her hands over her face.

“Ugh! Okay, bear with me... bear with me.” She takes a few deep breaths.

Okay, it’s right there. All she has to do it blurt it out. That’s all that needs to happen.

“I...” She drawls, trying her best to force out her words. “Thatboy-well-he-uh-Hewas...he was-is,was-nois-you.” She blurt’s out, cringing, waiting for his response.

“Ah.” That sums it up. “I, I didn’t actually get all that. Could you-could you repeat that. Slower, please.”

She takes a deep breath. “It-it’s not important. Not now. Just, in my timeline, you are in my class, and have been for years.”

“Okay...” He scrunches his eyebrows together in thought and frustration.

“Marinette.”

“Right, thank you.” Even with erased memories, he remains polite. Why must he be so good? “So, Marinette, we are classmates, and now I know about the crush/love of your life. Were we this close in the original timeline?”

“Ah, well. Sort of?” Her voice squeaks.

“Anyway,” He Shakes his head, more blonde tufts poof from his ears, “tell me about the akuma attack a week ago.”

She tells him about the attack. How, she was startled by something-that escapes her mind-and then, when she had tried to go to school, she was confronted by a weird man with even weirder glasses.

“Wait, that sounds like that weird akuma I took down about a week ago - darn, I still need to get a name for him - anyway, that’s when my headaches started too!”

“Yeah, weird guy. Anyway, when he touched me, he had screamed, then walked away. That when I became like... this...” She trails off, gesturing to her entire ghostly body.

“Yeah...” Chat trails off, looking at her with sad eyes.

“So, Anyway, no one can see me, or hear me, and I can’t touch or move anything. Except for a few small things and even then, only for a few seconds. I can go through anything, and just a few hours ago, I found something that I think can help to bring me back.”

“Like, actually bring you back?”

“Yeah!”

“Marinette, I’m not sure if we can bring you back without Ladybug... speaking of which, do you know about Ladybug?”

“Ah,” her body goes stiff, all her ghost-like muscles freezing, “Yeah, Ladybug is pretty big. She has her own blog. Huge amounts of fans.” She says a little timidly.

“Okay, okay... do you know what happened to her?”

There it is, the question she was afraid of - kind of, maybe, not really? “Yeah, She, uh, she attempted to protect me. But... she...” her voice goes quiet, her eyes beginning to tear up. Why can’t she just tell him that she’s Ladybug?! It would save so much time! So much confusion.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.” He tries to hug her, but his arms go right through her. While it makes her sad to remember that, she appreciates the sentiment. “Right, sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Just after the akuma had touched me, she had shown up. She tried to attack the akuma. But when she got within reach...” She swallows back a sob. She couldn’t save herself. Couldn’t see that that man wasn’t right, that he wasn’t normal. She should have recognized the crackling energy around him. She should have been fast- “

“Hey, it’s not your fault. You couldn’t have wanted this. You couldn’t have wanted her to fade into what you are suffering from.” Chat - Adrien - says, reaching out for her, but unable to touch her.

--------

“So, uh, would you happen to know why Tikki would still be here, if it was Ladybug who was transformed.” Adrien asks.

Marinette’s already ghostly pale face drains further of color, her eyes blowing wide, “Oh... I - um, well...” the words stumble out of her mouth before trailing off. She’s awkwardly pulling on her fingers, her gaze settling on the floor between them. Adrien can’t help but feel guilty about causing her discomfort. He’s just about to change the subject when she speaks again.

“I have no clue. Akuma are... weird?” She’s quiet. Quieter than she had been before, he really had to strain his ears to hear what she said.

Then, Marinette finally looks up to his eyes again. She looks so vulnerable. So breakable. So very sad. And all Adrien wants to do, is to wrap her up in his arms. To tell her everything is alright. That people love her...

That he loves her.

Wait, where’d that come fr-

His thoughts are cut off by Tikki’s shockingly loud, horrified gasp that tears both their gazes to the kwami instantly.

Somehow, without any of them noticing, Tikki had drifted over and alighted on Adrien’s shoulder. Tikki’s arms are both gone. Like they were never there. Like she was created without arms. If anyone had walked in and looked at her, not having known her before, they would have thought she never had arms. It’s a very disconcerting and horrifying sight for all three of them.

Then, suddenly, in the blink of an eye, Tikki’s arms are back. Red, stubby, arms. Complete with the tiny paws. Nothing wrong.

Adrien stares at the newly returned arms. Then, he stares at Tikki’s stare. Reluctantly, he looks over to Marinette. Her eyes are wide open. Her gaze filled with terror, looking at the little goddess. Why she would be feeling anything toward Tikki, he has no clue, but it does give him an inkling of who she is as a person. Someone who cares about everyone. Someone who, given the right opportunity and means, would sacrifice herself for random strangers.

He shakes his head to bring himself back to reality. He barely knows Marinette. Whether or not they knew each other before doesn’t matter right now. Because right now, something is wrong with the kwami of Creation. (Wait, if she embodies Creation, what created her. And then what created the being that created her? No, no time for a brain breaking loophole)

They cannot lose Tikki. For if she is gone, shouldn’t everything else disappear?

“Chat - Adrien...” Marinette quickly corrects herself, “why did her arms fade?” Her eyes have locked with Tikki big blue eyes. Both sharing unshed tears and looks of horror.

And, honestly, he has no idea. No idea why she’s fading. He has no clue how they can bring Marinette back without Ladybug. And if Tikki is starting to fade, whatever that means, that means that Ladybug would cease to exist. Which would bring creation to a stop. And destruction would rein. That cannot happen.

And... he has absolutely no clue why she would ask him that.

“I...” He trails off with a sigh, “I have no idea. I don’t know, Marinette.” He’s pretty sure he can see his own body because he’s so detached. Everything sounds far away. Colors are dim. Everything is fuzzy. Nothing makes sense.

Except for one thing. He knows that he wants to engulf this transparent girl, and tiny red thing in a bone crushing hug. But he knows that he can’t. For some reason.

Then, the girl’s eyes shift from the red being’s eyes, and everything snaps back to reality so fast that Adrien is certain that he received whiplash.

Marinette’s eyes are focused on his now, bluebell boring into acid green. Her expression is no longer one of sadness and horror. But one of determination. A stark contrast to everything else.

“I think I might have an idea.” She says, her voice almost dripping with venom. Why she would use this tone, he has no clue. But her eyes are lined with tears, and he notices her fingers slowly moving across her earrings. Hesitantly cupping them, then releasing them. Her fingers never leaving the surface of the smooth stone.

Huh - those earrings... they seem... familia- whatever his thoughts were going to form are cut off by a splitting headache. Persistent in stopping most brain function.

He flops down onto the futon, taking short breaths to remind his brain how breathing feels. After a few minutes, thoughts begin to reform, normal brain function returning. Taking a deep breath, he tries to remember the last few seconds, but comes up empty.

“-ien!” A girl’s voice breaks into his mind. “Adrien! Are you okay?!”

Slowly, he opens his eyes, just noticing that they had closed. In front of him is a girl, long raven blue hair done up in pigtails. White shirt, grey blazer. Pink jeans. Big, blue eyes filled with concern. A few tears falling from her cheeks. Her hands clutched to her chest. A bright, white, painful aura surrounding her. He blinks a few times, sure that he was seeing an angel. For, a being of such beauty and possessing an aura of such whiteness could only be an angel.

Unfortunately, after a few blinks, the aura dies down, and he recognizes her. Marinette. That’s her name. They had been taking about something. What was it...?

Right! She asked him why Tikki was... fading, was it? Yeah, fading. Wait! Fading. Didn't she describe what happened to her as fading? Maybe, maybe not, I have no clue. Anyway! Ladybug was hit too! That means that she’s a part of the faded... forgotten? Part of the forgotten? Anyway- I’m saying that too much, but! Tikki is fading too! That means that she’s still connected to Ladybug, right? It must be that. Ladybug and Marinette were both hit by that akuma. Fader! No, not good enough. It needs to be something else. But now I know sort of where to star-

“Adrien!” Marinette shouts, and he snaps back to reality once more.

She has gotten close now, and he’s much colder. “Right, sorry, I spaced out for about, I’m fine. Thank you.”

Marinette eyes him skeptically. “Right...” She trails off, letting him know that she does not, under any circumstances, believe him at all.

“Anyway,” wow, he really needs to figure out a way to stop saying that so much, “you said that you have an idea of why she’s fading?”

“Well,” She drawls, “I said I might have an idea.”

“Same thing. Shoot.” Adrien sits up and leans toward Marinette.

“I - well - you...” She sighs forcefully, like he was annoying her, she opens her mouth a few times again, but no words come out. Grumpily, she sighs again.

“What are you trying to say.” Adrien can’t help but tease her, plus, her grumpy face is absolutely adorable!

“Never mind about that.” Marinette says, shaking her head, her face morphing into a vulnerable state. “Now, about my idea... I... Okay, you have to promise not to be mad.”

“Why would I be mad? It’s not like you wanted any of this stuff to happen.” Adrien asks, cocking his head to the side, confused as ever.

She didn’t do anything wrong! She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!

“It’s not that simple. It’s so complicated! I just need you to promise, please.” Marinette’s eyes and tone are pleading.

“Okay, yeah, I- “

Before he gets the opportunity to make his promise, something - no, not something - well, technically something, but he knows what the something is - but words. If his magically enhanced cat eye vision isn’t misleading him, those were words. Two of them: “GO AWAY!”-crashes through the apartment window, and grazes Marinette’s head before colliding with the floor, causing it to crack and splinter.

Great. Absolutely splendid! Another akuma. And this one broke Master Fu’s window. The best.

Releasing a heavy sigh, Adrien stands up, brushing off stray pieces of glass. “Tikki, come with me please?” He asks, making his way to the broken window, where screaming and crashing is coming from.

“What?! Are you crazy? I can’t do anything without the miraculous! It’ll be too dangerous!” Tikki exclaims, her normally calm demeanor forgotten.

“Please Tikki?” Adrien puts his clawed hands together in a pleading manner, one he has only seen in his secret anime shows. Like Gabriel would ever knowingly let his son watch those, nor learn this mannerism.

Tikki glares at him, the tiny being trying to be intimidating. But, reluctantly, she agrees. No one can resist the puppy eyes.

“Yes!” Adrien practically jumps to the ceiling in excitement before ushering the kwami into his collar.

Then, with poorly controlled enthusiasm, Adrien jumps through the broken window to go fight the akuma, this time with a little bit of luck on his side.

--------

“The Thinker. Oh, Hawkmoth, why can’t you come up with better names?” Marinette mutters to herself, looking at the akumatized person hurts her brain. But she must do it. If only to keep watch for Cha - Adrien and Tikki. Dang, it’s still so hard to think of Adrien and Chat Noir as one person. But she will persist.

The Thinker has already done his whole, “I am The Thinker! Give me your miraculous, Chat Noir!” Thing that every single akuma or villain ever depicted ever has done. The Thinker is dressed in a green robe, with gold lining, and a high collar. Upon his arms, are two metal gauntlets, which fire off the thoughts he forms. Each gauntlet is black, with gold swirls all over it. Upon his head, sits a helmet like thing. It’s like a mixture between a bald cap and a helmet. But it’s textured like a brain. Whenever it glows, which is every other second, a new formation of thoughts is ready to be fired.

Well, thoughts is a bit of a stretch. They’re just words, which, depending on the word/sentence, do different things. For instance, ‘destroy’, well, it destroys whatever it meets. Erase, disappear, begone, go away, etc. all do basically the same thing that destroy does. Others are freeze, stop, die - that is a really concerning one, freaking psychopath - fly, turn around, and many others.

His face is uncovered but is completely blank. Like a mannequin. Also, it’s purple. Hawkmoth, always with turning people’s skin a different color. Only the rare exception of akuma victims don’t get a different colored skin. Or completely different body.

For the past ten minutes, Adrien, as Chat Noir, - Yes, much easier to think of it that way - has been dodging everything sent his way, while the thoughts just fly through her. They don’t leave any weird aftertaste, so that’s confusing yet relieving. She does not want to know what a person’s thoughts taste like. Especially a corrupted person’s.

She’s seen Adrien fight before. In the normal timeline, he wasn’t nearly as good. He would dodge most hits, and block others, but some would get through. He was more agile on his feet than she was. Though, being infused with luck, she got hit even less. What Forgotten Adrien can do… It’s astounding. Not once does he get hit. He doesn’t even pull out his baton to deflect an attack. It’s all dodging. He is more agile than she could ever hope to be on her feet. In the air though, she could give him a run for his money, but not on her feet.

There are some that come close to hitting him, but his reflexes come out on top.

The Thinker hasn’t been giving Adrien the chance to come closer, since he’s been bombarding the superhero with thoughts from the second he saw the black clad boy.

So, when The Thinker stops using one of his gauntlets, effectively halving his attacks, Marinette is instantly suspicious. She hopes Adrien is too. Looking closer, Marinette sees that The Thinker has his right gauntlet tucked up close to his chest. An eerie green glow emanating from it, Marinette becomes even more suspicious and concerned. She scoots closer to Adrien.

The brain helm is glowing the same eerie green, which helps connect the dots for Marinette. Whenever the helmet glows, thoughts are being arranged into tangible letters and words. Then, they get sent to either gauntlet, ready to be fired at whatever The Thinker wants.

Now, it could just be continuously glowing due to The Thinker bombarding Adrien. But she’s been watching the fight for the past 12 minutes. This eerie green glow has never shown up before.

So, if the gauntlet and the helm are glowing the same shade of green. That can only mean one thing.

Whatever the next thought is to come out is going to be from that gauntlet. And, see if as no other words/thoughts have flowed that shade of green, this could mean that this next one is potentially going to be extremely dangerous. And imbued with akuma magic. Which will do serious damage to Paris’s only superhero.

Because The Thinker has reduced his attacks, Chat has found his way closer to him. Which is most likely what he wanted in the first place.

When Chat is close enough so that the attack will be nearly impossible to dodge, he stops all attacks, his gauntlet and helm glowing even brighter.

She yells for Adrien to move, to get away! But he doesn’t seem to register her words.

So, Marinette jumps in front of him, utilizing her ghostly non-weight to propel her at faster speeds than her yo-yo could, just in time for The Thinker to fire off his cat-astrophic thought.

Oh, if she ends up getting through this, she is so telling Adrien that. Maybe he’ll get a kick out of it. Heaven knows she needs to hear his laughter again.

Floating in front of her love, she closes her eyes, suppressing her instinct to get out of the way! She prays to whatever being is out there. To all the kwami. To whatever created the kwami.

Please! Please, just this once!

Then, suddenly, an overwhelming cold envelopes her body. Making her shiver uncontrollably and collapse to the ground. But she doesn’t black out. She hasn’t even felt anything that come close to this since her winters as Ladybug. This, though, this is worse.

--------

Since he jumped through the broken window, Adrien has been focused on two things, and two things only. One: protect Tikki at all costs, and two: find and break the akumatized object.

The first thing is easy enough, as long as Adrien keeps himself safe, the Embodiment of Creation is safe. He just hopes she can hold on.

And, with luck magic enhancing his already more than normal abilities as well as Magic-Cat reflexes, it makes it all that much easier to dodge and weave between the rapid thoughts.

The second one is a little bit harder. Though, finding the akumatized object is moderately easy.

It’s a helmet, textured like a brain. It glows every time a word is fired at Adrien - well, Chat Noir.

No, the hard part of all of this was getting close enough to get a hold on the helmet. The Thinker, as Hawkmoth so usually, foolishly dubbed his new minion, has been bombarding him with thoughts, his thoughts running rapid. Heh. He’ll have to tell Marinette that one. Anyhow, the thoughts have been keeping him at a frustrating distance. Close enough to see the details on The Thinker, but too far to even try to touch him.

Then, finally, after what felt like an eternity, The Thinker’s attacks halved in frequency; making it much easier to get close. But he isn’t taking the bait.

Not until what seems like a minute has passed (might have been more, Adrien’s sense of time has been skewed since he jumped out the window), he inches closer, seeing as the Thinker hasn’t upped his attack frequency again. Which, quite frankly, is weird. Adrien would much rather pounce on him and get the entire fight over with, but this akuma is frustratingly defensive.

‘Just use a Cataclysm.’ Plagg chimes in, making Adrien stumble a bit. Seriously, it’s still hard to get used to Plagg talking to him while transformed, even if it has been a few days since it first happened.

‘Plagg, if I use it, it would leave me with 5 minutes to end the fight, and I don’t think I can pull that off.’ He sends off to his kwami, frustrated at the stupid akuma.

‘Ugh.’

‘Yeah, yeah, tell me about it.’ He sighs, weaving around another suicide thought. It’s really concerning what this guy thinks about. Maybe he should set the victim up with a therapist.

The thoughts are slowing down in frequency, giving Adrien the chance to get even closer. ‘Maybe I can use a Cataclysm. It should end this fight. I just need to get this much closer.’

‘Just jump him already, your part cat!’

‘Key Word part, I’d like to keep in touch with my humanity.’

‘Oh please, being a cat is so much easier and funner.’

‘Not helping!’

Plagg only snickers, which makes a weird static-y noise in his mind.

‘Also, it’s more fun, not funner.’

Plagg scoffs, ‘I’m literally a cat made of energy, I couldn’t care less about punctual grammar.’

Shaking his head, he takes a few steps closer, readying his leg muscles for jumping. He glances at the helmet, planning his route of pouncing, but the glow the helmet is emanating keeps him from jumping. Also, the akuma has a glowing gauntlet pointed right at him.

‘I should have paid more attention!’ Adrien silently shouts as he digs his heels into the ground, intending on getting enough friction to jump out of the line of fire.

‘No duh!’ Plagg says, a hint of annoyance in his mental tone. Then, out of the corner of his eye, a flash of movement catches his eye, successfully putting a stop to his movement, his eyes wide.

‘Someone just jumped in front of you!” Plagg seems to shout at him. And, honestly, his brain can’t form any thoughts now. Neither can his body move.

All because Marinette jumped in front of him. Trying to block the attack. And he can only watch as The Thinker’s eerily glowing thought rockets off toward Marinette. He’s ready to plan her funeral, or his own. Maybe he should move.

But nothing matters, because the attack slams into Marinette.

Or, well, it would have slammed into her if she had a physical body. It also should have just flown right through her. But not this time. No, this time, the glowing words seep into Marinette’s body, tainting her bright white aura a deep, semi light green. Making her look like a proper ghost.

He snaps from his reverie and take a step closer to her. Her eyes are closed tight, her mouth twisted in determination.

But she doesn’t seem hurt.

He takes another step closer. This time, instead of a gradual cold surrounding her, it’s a steep drop off from the normal air temperature, making it extremely uncomfortable to be within even a meter of her.

So, instead of stepping closer, he attempts to speak.

“Wh-“ the cold surrounding him at the moment makes his mouth feel like it’s burning.

Marinette snaps her eyes open, and their gazes lock. Her big blue eyes making the cold just ever-so-slightly more bearable.

Marinette scrunches her eyebrows, confusion written all over her face, but relief clear in her eyes.

‘Kid! She is asking what’s wrong. Don’t leave her hanging.’

Thank goodness he has Plagg to tell him the obvious.

‘Thanks, Plagg, I totally did not know that.’

‘Glad to help!’

Adrien rolls his eyes, then clears his throat.

“Umm... i-“ it’s so hard to say things! So, Adrien settles on gesturing to her whole body.

With even more confusion, Marinette glances down at her body, back up to his eyes for half a second, then they snap back to her body; raising her arms, and craning her head to look at her entire body. Her eyes are curious and wide.

After a few seconds, she looks back up, her eyes narrowed. For a second, he wonders if she’s mad at him for not saving her.

‘Woah! That is one crazy aura right there!’ Somehow, Plagg manages to say everything in just the right way, at just the right time.

Then, Marinette looks over her shoulder, a small smirk growing into an evil one with what she sees.

Standing just a few meters back, The Thinker is frozen still, his jaw to the floor, his gauntlet clad arms hanging useless by his side. Adrien cocks his head to the side, curiosity clear to anyone who looks at him. He wonders if The Thinker can see her, and if so, then what he sees.

When he looks back to Marinette, she has her back to Adrien, eyes set on the Akumatized civilian. Then, Marinette takes a few steps toward the Thinker, and, with an amused smile creeping up on Adrien’s lips, The Thinker snaps from his frozen, shocked, terrified, baffled state and takes a few steps back; his baffled expression morphing into one of horror.

‘Duuuddee’ Plagg drawls.

‘Okay, seriously? That’s Nino’s thing, don’t steal it!’ Adrien sends back to Plagg, offense clear in his mental voice.

Adrien watches, conversing with Plagg for the next few minutes as Marinette and The Thinker go around in the scariest game of tag ever. He can’t help but laugh every few minutes.

After another few minutes of The Thinker running from the floating, green mass of thoughts turned against him that is Marinette, his smile widens even more. Hawkmoth’s symbol hasn’t shown yet. Maybe Hawkmoth is terrified of the floating traitor mass too?

The Thinker starts to panic even more, his running turns into sprinting, his breath becoming even more labored, arms flailing. But Marinette doesn’t slow down, she easily keeps pace with the frantic Akuma. Never straying from just a meter and a half away.

In his haste to get away from Marinette, The Thinker fails to take in his surroundings. Now, they are fighting in a flat area of the city, cars destroyed, and civilians evacuated. But Adrien is just standing, looking like a father watching two children play a game of tag, reminiscing about the good old days. The Thinker doesn’t realize that he’s sprinting straight for Adrien, probably because his hidden eyes are stuck on the green mass following him from over his shoulder.

Shaking his head amusedly, he unsheathes his baton, getting ready to intercept the absolutely terrified akuma. Maybe, just maybe, this interaction will give Hawkmoth night terrors and he won’t send out an akuma for at least a week. Is that plausible? Probably not, he didn’t stop when he possessed a child twice. Or when he accidentally created a Thanos type akuma with an infinity gauntlet. (“We don’t talk about that one, kid. Let it go. You can rest now.” Plagg had said as he was trying to take in what had happened when he was trying to process what had happened after the fight). Will that stop Adrien from dreaming and hoping? No.

Suddenly, The Thinker crashes into Adrien, snapping him from his thoughts, and The Thinker releases an unholy shriek is absolute terror. But Adrien doesn’t let The Thinker reestablish his dignity, and brings his baton down on the Thinker’s head with a sickening crack. The Thinker crumbles immediately to the ground. His shriek slowly dying on his lips until all is silent.

Adrien just stands there, looking down at The Thinker, baton frozen where it had met his head, ears still ringing from the sheer volume of The Thinkers shriek. Adrien only just barely registers that Marinette is standing by his side, laughing uncontrollably.

After a few seconds, as Adrien is regaining his bearings and recovering from Plagg’s mental laughter, Marinette’s laughing settles down into giggles. A few moments later, Marinette crouches down next to The Thinker’s unconscious body, and rests a hand on his helmet. The green aura seeps from her hand into the helmet, then the helmet explodes, shooting black particles of destroyed helmet and green and black sparks shooting off every which way. With the explosion, the corrupted butterfly is sent flying toward Adrien, then it collides with his leather clad chest. With three pairs of eyes watching the butterfly, it slowly slips from his chest and falls to the ground.

After a few seconds of looking at the unmoving akuma, Adrien looks up to Marinette and sees amusement in her eyes. He then gasps theatrically, collapsing to his knees. “Ow! That hurt. Why would you do such a thing?” His gaze is on the corrupted butterfly, but he keeps an eye on the transparent girl out of the corner of his eye.

Marinette lets out an unladylike snort, and a small giggle comes from his pocket. Even Plagg snickers at him. Adrien can’t help but smile.

“Well, Tikki, this is where we come to my plan.” Adrien says and Tikki pops out of his collar, curiosity written all over her face. “I’ve been thinking. Plagg can destroy quite a bit without me. More so, actually. So, I was wondering, do you think you can purify and reset without your miraculous?”

Tikki looks pensive for a few seconds, then she looks back to Adrien and nods. “I’m willing to try! I’m not sure if I’ve done it before, though.”

“That’s okay!” Adrien reassures her.

‘Oh, this is the best part, watch closely!’ Plagg says, just a bit too much like a game show announcer.

‘Wait, do you know what's about to happen. Tikki just said that she doesn’t know if she can do it.’

‘Nah, that’s just her being insecure about what happens next. But, really, it’s absolutely amazing! Now shush, I’m watching!’

With a fond shake of the head, Adrien turns his attention to Tikki.

Tikki floats down to the corrupted butterfly, and rests a paw on it; like she’s apologizing to it, before shoving it into her mouth. If the twin looks of amused terror from both Adrien and Marinette bothers her, she doesn’t let it show.

A second later, her spots and eyes glow white, all Avatar the Last Airbender style and, shocking them all, except Plagg, looks up the sky and opens her mouth. A white beam shoots forth from her mouth and eyes into the sky and when it goes away; a purified butterfly flutters out of her mouth. Tikki looks up to Adrien with big, adorable eyes full of vulnerability.

And all Adrien can think about is a “Ding!” Sound accompanying her mouth with the purified butterfly flying away.

All is silent. No one knows what to say. Plagg just keeps laughing like a maniac.

“That…” Adrien starts. “Was amazing!” He finishes, pulling Tikki in for a hug. “You are the best, most adorable thing ever!”

“Thanks!” Tikki replies with a giggle, nuzzling his cheek. Her insecurity seeming to have vanished partly.

After a bit of nuzzling, Adrien separates from Tikki and tells her to hide in his collar again, stating that. “Someone could see her.”

She complies and settles in his collar once again.

He looks up to Marinette and sees her silently shaking.

“Not. One. Word.”

That only gets her to burst out laughing

“Okay, we need to get going.” He says with a sigh. “We have a baby crib to see!”

‘Doesn’t that require breaking into someone’s house?’ Plagg asks, being the voice of reason for the first time ever.

#ml #My Writing #The Forgotten AU #TF

0 notes