#no superpowers

[brokenangelwings22]

TWotW Chapter 7 is now up on Ao3!

Please enjoy, m'dears!

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[siriusmuggle]

I've updated "The Origin of Home" over on AO3. I'm not sure which of my amazing readers are interested in this story so I'm not going to tag anyone for this one. If you'd like to be tagged for future updates, just let me know😊 In the meantime, whoever moseys over to read it, I hope you enjoy!

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[kickingassandtakingsnames]

Halfway through the war, something Force-related happens and suddenly  three Obi-Wan look-alikes appear. Like, let’s say Obi-Wan, Anakin, Ahsoka, Cody, and Rex are having a meeting about the upcoming battle and poof, there’s a flash of light and three people sitting on the floor looking just as confused as they are.

The three look-alikes are actually three of Ewan McGregor’s past characters, for this let’s say Roman Sionis (Birds of Prey), Dan Torrance (The Shining/Doctor Sleep), and Christopher Robin (Christopher Robin) because these are the only things I’ve watched with Ewan McGregor. Course all they know is that they happen to look and sound alike, and come to a conclusion of some weird inter-dimensional clone stuff happening (it’s not like they’re all going by the same name, so they can’t be the same person from different dimensions, right?).

Everyone is confused. They’re civilians, so they shouldn’t be brought onto the battlefield, but they probably shouldn’t be left to their own devices either. For plot’s sake, they’re each taken from after their respective films, and so Dan and Roman are inexplicably alive again but they aren’t questioning it.

Cody takes one look at Roman and just knows that This Man Has Something Wrong With Him. Roman is trying to act normal because while he might be a madman he knows when to play nice. Everyone knows he’s playing nice, but they don’t necessarily realize just how unhinged he is.

Christopher is super interested in all the technology-- sure, he knows magic, but space travel? He drives Anakin up the wall because he’ll act like the most normal, boring person in the world and then he’ll say the most bizarre thing Anakin has ever heard and there’s no in-between.

Meanwhile Dan is like. Vibing. This is the weirdest time of his life but it’s preferable to pretty much anything else he’s ever lived through. He spends ten minutes with Anakin and that ‘Same Hat’ meme flashes behind his eyes. Anakin doesn’t know why Dan is suddenly acting like he wants to be a big brother to him but he’s not against it...

Anyway the day is saved because the entire situation just derails things completely. Dan convinces Anakin he needs help, actually (Anakin listens because Dan isn’t shy about sharing his own traumas and mistakes). Christopher provides an interesting, new outlook on the war and politics and work vs life, utterly reminded about his old boss that overworked them while going on vacations (’you know,’ Ahsoka says, ‘you make a point about who is benefiting from the war’). Roman spends most of his time surrounded by a rotating set of guards so he can’t do anything nefarious (Cody: He has the General’s face but he is Worse Than Dooku, watch him with your lives) and afterwards every time one of the Troopers that have been on Roman Guard Duty is in the same room as Palpatine (it happens more often than you’d think, because Palpatine likes Anakin and Obi-Wan spends a lot of time with Anakin, which means the 212th are around Anakin, which means the 212th are around Palpatine) they realize the Vibes are the same.

Evidence against Palpatine grows, Dan has a dream about the chips and comes clean about his Shine, order 66 never happens and the war ends because three Obi-Wan lookalikes get stuck in the wrong dimension.

[teen-titans-confession-box]

I hate it when people hate on Robin for not having powers. Like first: even if you think it’s weak, that’s not a reason to hate a character as a whole. Second: with other characters like Batman that’s literally a reason people like them, so how is Robin so much lamer?

[forza-lara]

I got a COVID-19 vaccine today. My arm hurts a little but it's nothing compared to muscle pains I had when I was infected by the coronavirus

[outofcontextstuff]

[shadyelizabeth]

Without Goodbyes

Based on this prompt by @dailywritingprompt-blog

“Hey, guys!”

Adrien looked up from the cat video Nino was streaming on his phone. Alya sauntered toward them, waving, with a bright smile on her face.

“Hey, Alya!”

“Babe!” Nino hopped up from the tabletop they were sitting on, his weight rattling the bench. Wrapping his girlfriend in his arms, he said, “Oh, how I’ve missed you!”

“I was only gone for two days,” she said, patting him not so gently on the back.

“It seemed like the longest two days EVER!” Nino squeezed her tighter.

“Ugh!” Alya brought her hands up between them and pushed. Caught off guard, Nino stumbled backward, the backs of his knees hitting the bench seat before he landed on his butt. “I didn’t know you were the clingy type.”

Adrien tried to hide the smile threatening to let loose on his lips behind his hand, but his best friend caught him, a look of hurt flashing across his face.

He clapped Nino on the shoulder and squeezed, hoping to convey it was all in good fun. 

Turning back to Alya, he asked, “Where’d you go this weekend?”

“Nora took me up to Senils so I could do research for my presentation on Joan of Arc.”

“Sounds fun! Learn anything interesting?”

“Oh, tons! But I’m not going to say anything now. You’ll get to learn about how kickass Joan was in History class with everyone else.”

“Looking forward to it!”

Tapping out a quick message on her phone, she said, “Hey, have either of you seen or talked to Marinette?”

Adrien’s eyes scanned the courtyard out of habit. Consciously, he knew if Marinette wasn’t by Alya’s side, she was going to be nowhere to be found. 

He’d been busy with his father all weekend, and even in the days before, working on designs for the new spring line, going back and forth on cuts and finishes, getting poked and prodded, being measured and tailored. He hadn’t had much time for anything else other than sleeping and eating, barely squeezing in time for homework. Adrien knew he’d been distracted but didn’t realize how unobservant he’d been; he couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen Marinette, let alone talked to her.

Shaking his head, Adrien said, “No, I haven’t. Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know.” Alya shrugged. “She was acting weirder than usual on Thursday, smiling, pretending like everything was fine, but I could tell something was off. Then, she didn’t show up to school at all on Friday. I didn’t have time to go by after school because Nora wanted to get on the road before traffic got backed up. I had my phone off all weekend trying to focus, and now she’s absent from school again. I’m starting to get worried.”

“Have you tried calling her? Maybe she’s just running late. It is Marinette,” Nino said.

“Of course.” Alya crossed her arms. “But it’s going straight to voicemail, and all of my texts have gone unanswered.”

Nino stood and wrapped a comforting arm around her. He dropped a small kiss on her temple.

Meeting Alya’s eyes, Adrien said, “Maybe she’s sick,” wanting to reassure her as much as he was reassuring himself, refusing to even think that anything bad could’ve happened to his–to their friend.

“Maybe,” she said, sounding unconvinced. “If she doesn’t show up today, I’ll check on her after school. I would go at lunch, but I need to prepare for my presentation.”

“I can go,” Adrien offered, maybe a little too quickly. “At lunch.” He couldn’t put his finger on the sensation simmering low in his gut; he just knew he would feel more at ease the sooner he knew Marinette was okay.

“Let us know as soon as you hear something, dude?”

“Will do.” 

As if waiting for their conversation to end, the first bell rang, signaling six minutes before class was to begin. 

Standing and shouldering his messenger bag, he said, “I’ll talk to you guys later.”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The shopkeeper’s bell jingled when Adrien pushed open the door of the boulangerie. The warm smell of fresh bread and something light and sweet like sugar tickled his nose. Mr. Dupain’s back was turned towards the door as he kneaded a large lump of dough, patches of flour circling his arms. His eyes glanced over the displays of pastries–braids of bread and fruit-filled tarts, colossal cookies, and their Paris-famous macarons.

“Have a good day.” The bell over the door tinkled once more. “Adrien,” came Mrs. Cheng’s motherly tone. Mr. Dupain’s movements halted, his shoulders tensing, his still, hulking form like a brick wall. The knot in Adrien’s stomach tightened. “What can I do for you?”

“Hello, Mrs. Cheng. None of us have heard from Marinette in a few days. I wanted to come by and see if everything was okay.”

Mr. Dupain turned around, wiping his hands on his apron. His eyes met his wife’s, an intimate conversation shared between them. After a few silent moments, Mrs. Cheng said, “She’s upstairs, but let me call her first to see if she would like company.”

“Is everything okay?” he asked, both hands clutching the strap of his bag. The not knowing mixed with her parents’ behavior further unsettled him.

She hesitated, giving him a small smile that didn’t reach anywhere near her eyes. “Let me call Marinette. Tom can get you anything you want while you wait.”

Mrs. Cheng disappeared into the back room. Mr. Dupain stepped forward. “What can I get you, son? The croissants just came out of the oven a few minutes before you walked in, and we’re trying out some floral themed macarons for the season. We’ve currently got rose, lavender, and honeysuckle.” The enthusiasm in which he usually spoke about his creations wasn’t there.

This must be really bad.

Mrs. Cheng exited the back room, walking over to stand next to her husband, leaning her slight frame against his. “You can go on up; the front door is open. Marinette’s in her room. Adrien, try not to be too upset with her.”

“No, thank you. I don’t have much of an appetite for anything right now.”

“I know what you mean, kid.”

“Thank you,” he said around a dry throat. His feet took him behind the counter and through the backroom to the staircase, up one step after another, without really being aware of what he was doing. If whatever was going on had Marinette’s usually cheerful parents down, it had to be serious. But what?

Was Marinette sick? … No, that couldn’t be it. Mrs. Cheng said not to be too upset with her, so it had to be something that she’d done. Something troubling, but it was Marinette. She was so pure and loyal and just, always willing to lend a helping hand. Always bringing sweet treats to school for everyone to share. 

Maybe it had something to do with school? Maybe that’s why she hadn’t been there for the last few days?

When Adrien came to a stop at the top of the steps, he raised his hand to knock before remembering Mrs. Cheng said the door was open.

Turning the brass knob, he let himself in. 

Everything was exactly the same as the last time he’d been over. Rain boots were lined up by the door from biggest to smallest. A throw blanket was draped over the back of the couch. Exactly three stools sat around the countertop table, and sunlight poured in through the many windows that lined the room. The space felt lived in, cozy, like home.

Not wanting to linger, he quickly crossed the floor and started up towards Marinette’s room. The door was open, but he still knocked to announce himself.

“Come on in,” she said, her voice devoid of its usual perkiness. 

Climbing the last few rungs up, Adrien’s eyes were immediately drawn to the half dozen cardboard boxes that littered the floor of Marinette’s room. Almost everything used to decorate her room looked to be packed away, from the gadgets and trinkets that lined her desk to the sewing machine she used to create her unique designs. Her pink walls were lighter in the spots where her posters used to be. 

She was sitting on her chaise folding a pile of laundry, laying each folded piece into a big pink suitcase.

Even though it was clear what she was doing, Adrien still asked, “What’s going on, Marinette?”

Sighing, she pushed some clothes aside to make room for him to sit. He was across the room in two steps, dropping his messenger bag at his feet. Scanning her face, her eyes were tired and red; she’d definitely been crying.

She took a deep breath and said, “I’m moving.”

The knot in his stomach had ascended to his throat. Moving? Marinette had been such a vital constant in his life, since day one, he couldn’t imagine a future without her. He never thought he’d have to. 

“To where?” he managed to croak out. 

“Milan.” Her expression was neutral, neither excitement nor disappointment portrayed on her face. 

“When are you leaving?”

“My flight leaves tomorrow morning at 7AM.”

Adrien felt his face draw in, his eyebrows drawn into a concerning V. “But your parents–the bakery is still–and …” he trailed off. The bakery was still fully operational. Everything downstairs was still exactly where it should have been. Marinette’s room was the only one that was packed because she was the only one who was leaving. “You’re going by yourself.”

She nodded slowly.

“Why?”

“I got accepted into a design school there. Normally, they wouldn’t allow students to start after the semester has already begun, but because of my portfolio and the work I’ve done with your dad, they’re letting me start a little late.”

He blinked a few times, trying to process what he was hearing. Marinette was leaving. She was moving to Italy. To go to school. She was leaving in the morning. She would be gone in the morning.

Closing his eyes, he shook his head ever so slightly before opening them again. “No one’s heard from you in days. Were you planning on leaving without saying goodbye?”

Averting her gaze, she nodded once more. “I thought it’d be easier this way.” Her voice was so small. “I don’t know how to say goodbye to Nino, to Alya”–her eyes flashed up for a few seconds then darted away–“to you. I figured if I could just get out of here, I would write you all letters explaining where I’d gone and why.”

Adrien didn’t know what to say. He could’ve been mad about Marinette’s plan to leave without telling anyone, but that didn’t change the fact that she was leaving. That he had to finish out the rest of third year and all of fourth without her. That he’d be losing one of his best friends.

Was that all they were? They’d been thrown together so many times because of Nino and Alya, but as of late, more and more often it had been just the two of them. Playing videos at her house. Finding the quietest corner of the school library to study in, only to usually end up talking about everything but school. They’d had a running bimonthly lunch date for the last three or four months, taking a long stroll in the park afterward to walk off their meal.

Was this dreadful heavy feeling in his chest indicative of the loss he was facing? Or the potential of what could’ve been?

“Please say something.”

His mouth quivered as he fought to hold in the swell of emotions he was feeling. If this was what Marinette wanted, he would be happy for her. 

Reaching for her hand, he laced their fingers together, her skin rough and calloused. Mustering up his best smile, he said, “You, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, deserve everything you’ve ever wanted and more. You’re so tremendously talented, you’ll take Milan by storm just like you did Paris.” He tipped forward, resting his forehead against hers. “We’re all going to miss you. Maybe me most of all.” He gave her hand a small squeeze.

“I’m gonna miss you too.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

They sat in silence, savoring these last moments together. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Marinette spoke. 

“Adrien?”

“Yes.”

“I know this is a big favor to ask, but could you not tell anyone else?

Sitting back so he could see her face, the desperation in her eyes shone through. He hated lying to his friends, even if was for good reasons, but Marinette had never asked him for anything. This, he could do.

Cupping her face, he said, “For you, anything.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded once, slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. A million things left unspoken filled the space between them. He knew now wasn’t the time to start something he should’ve long before, but it was now or never.

Brushing his thumb across her cheek, he said, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

Adrien guided her mouth to his, their lips meeting in a soft embrace. Her free hand landed on his thigh, supporting her weight when she leaned in. The kiss was sweet and tentative, full of curiosity and restraint. There was a hint of remorse about what could have been but also a promise of what could be.

Marinette broke first, “wow” escaping in a breath. 

Tipping her head down, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and then stood up. Her eyes went wide with confusion.

“Sorry,” he started. “I just know if I don’t leave now, I never will. Before I do, promise me you’ll write and text and call?”

“Of course,” she agreed.

“And when you come home, you’ll make time to see me and tell me all about the fashion and the shows and the high couture life you’ve been living?”

“One last thing.” He held out his hand, which she took, drawing her up into a standing position. They were toe-to-toe, her eyes so blue and her cheeks still pink from their kiss. “If you don’t fall madly in love with some handsome Italian boy, maybe one day you could give me a chance?”

“Yeah.” She smiled, the pink in her cheeks turning a shade rosier. “I think I can do that.”

Opening his arms, Marinette stepped into them. Her head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck, and he thought to himself, She’s definitely worth waiting for.

He slowly untangled himself from her, his hands sliding down the backs of her arms, their fingertips catching. He scooped up his bag and walked backward toward the door. “See ya later, Marinette.”

“Goodbye for now, Adrien.”