#and now they can just have a normal life he thinks martin no longer wants him

[hauntedhotel]

Kinda obsessed with the difference between Martin's perspective during the apocalypse and Jon’s.

It's the difference between "I know you might hate me right now" and "I love you, I always will, and I know you love me"

It's the difference between Jon not being able to trust anyone, not even himself, but never for a second doubting that Martin loves him and Martin never being sure Jon’s feelings for him won't change.

It's the difference between Jon not always being loved perfectly and Martin having never been loved before.

It's Jon spending the entire apocalypse telling every monster they come across that Martin is his boyfriend, have you met Martin, this is his boyfriend Martin, his anchor, his last tie to humanity, his reason to still be hoping for a better ending. It's Martin telling his Lonely-self that if it comes down to it he'll ask Jon to destroy him and not being sure whether Jon will say no.

Even the jealousy, which is slightly played for laughs, still comes down to Jon being like "aw my boyfriend's getting all possessive 🥰" whereas deep down Martin has never let go of the idea that under different circumstances Jon could do better.

They're more emotionally open with each other during the apocalypse than they are for the years leading up to it, and they still don't stop misunderstanding each other.

[justsome-di]

Nobody Ends Up Dead in a Bathtub, Everyone Keeps Their Organs: Chapter 17

Summary: Alex is an ordinary, highly-introverted office worker. He clocks in and out and goes home to his little apartment he shares with his younger sister. He hasn’t dated in years. Until his co-workers set him up on a blind date.

The only issue is he and his date are not on the same page. At all.

While Alex thinks it’s a normal date, Damián is under the impression Alex is a client who paid to be there. No-so-quickly, they realize something is up. It’s all a prank. Damián is a sex worker Alex’s co-workers hired as a sick joke.

After reassuring that they’re both okay, Alex decides he wants revenge for both him and Damián. The plan is to use the stigma of sex work and start a 6-week, scandalous fake dating scheme with a big finale at the office Halloween party. Alex’s co-workers will be too horrified to try to prank him again. At least, that’s the plan.

“This is Kris and Clara,” Martin said. “The couple friend I mentioned. Guys, this is Marcus and Alex.”

Kris and Clara sat on the couch, glasses of wine already in their hands.

Lesbians.

Huh.

For some reason, Alex hadn’t expected Martin to have gay friends.

“I’m Kris.” She had very short, coily hair that was shaved down at the sides and piled up high on top. She wore a flannel top and chunky combat boots. All Alex could think about was how much Eve would have loved to know where she shopped.

“I’m not Kris.” Clara had longer, blonde hair wrapped up in a bun piled on the top of her head. She wore a short-sleeved button-down top that Alex was 90% sure he also owned. There was a joke there about lesbian and gay man fashion, but Alex would have to think about what it was.

Eve was going to be thrilled that Alex had spent his evening with a married lesbian couple. He was going to have to memorize every single detail about them just in case Eve had a million questions.

“I’m Marcus,” Damián said.

“I’m Alex,” Alex said.

“They’ve told us all about you two,” Kris said.

“Not really,” Martin said. “We really only told them a few things.”

Damián opened his mouth but then quickly closed it. Alex could feel him holding back another harsh comment.

“Thank you for inviting us,” Damián said. And then turning to the women, “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Martin gestured to the sitting area, trying to nudge the awkward greetings to an end.

Alex had never been to a co-worker’s apartment before. Martin and Sam’s place was cute. Larger than his own. There were paintings on the walls and one wedding picture hanging above a short and wide bookcase. There was a framed picture of a cockapoo who, in real life, was currently sitting between Kris and Clara, getting plenty of pets.

Damián must have noticed the dog at the same time as Alex because he let out a coo, “A dog!” and sat on the loveseat across from the lesbians.

“His name is Yam,” Martin said.

“His name is Yam,” Damián cried.

It was like his heart couldn’t take it.

Kris and Clara released Yam and gently nudged him to Damián. Yam jumped down and, eager for attention, trotted up to Damián’s ankles. Ecstatic, Damián picked him up and set him on his lap. Yam’s tail wagged so hard he was almost hitting himself. His backside thrashed around from the force making him lose his balance on his hind legs.

“His name is Yam,” Damián repeated to Alex.

“I heard.” Alex took a seat next to Damián and patted Yam on the head. He narrowly missed getting his hand licked. “I’m more of a cat person.”

“Well, now you can be a cat person and a Yam person.” Damián lifted Yam’s front legs and turned him to Alex. “I think he likes you.”

Yam’s tongue lolled out of his mouth like it was too big to fit inside. He looked at Alex for a few seconds before turning towards his approaching mother.

“He looks indifferent,” Alex said.

“We named him Yam because he looked like a Yam when we rescued him,” Sam said. She scratched the underside of his chin. “He likes to be scratched here.”

“I’m obsessed,” Damián said.

Yam was a light brown, almost orange color. His fur curled up to hide almost all of his face. His eyes and nose were barely visible. If it wasn’t gaping open, Alex wouldn’t be able to see his mouth behind his bushy mustache.

Martin passed two glasses of wine to Alex. He quietly thanked him and tried handing one to Damián. Damián was too distracted by rubbing Yam’s floppy ears to notice, so Alex laid the glass on the end table.

They sat around the living room. Sam sat with the other women, and Martin took the only chair in the room. It was a spacious area. The “sitting room” sat lower than the rest of the apartment, and that simple design made the apartment feel so much more bougie. The step down made the area feel like an actual room.

It could fit way more furniture than Alex could ever dream of having in his own apartment. Maybe it was the advantage of having double income. Or maybe it was just that Martin definitely made more money than him. Either way, Alex was jealous.

“So, Alex,” Kris said. “We know you work with Martin, right?”

“Yeah. I’m the administrative assistant in our office.”

“Ooh. Sounds fancy.”

“It’s just a nice way of saying I’m the secretary.”

“But without him, we would all be late to meetings and not a single fax would be sent,” Martin said, laying it on so thick Alex thought he might need a shovel to dig through it.

“You guys send faxes?” Clara asked. “Are you only allowed to operate like it’s the 90s?”

“They’re more secure than emails, and they don’t violate HIPPA,” Alex said, finally ready to finish the thoughts he had tried telling his co-workers for years. “A lot of medical offices still request them for privacy reasons. And when we deal with patient information, we have to follow the same guidelines.”

“Hmm,” Kris hummed. “I never knew that.”

“Neither did I,” Martin said. “So, better put, Alex also keeps us from getting sued.”

Alex didn’t respond. He only gave Martin a quick glance.

“Marcus, Martin and Sam didn’t tell us what you do,” Clara said.

Without looking up from Yam who was now receiving a great two-hand scratch under his chin, Damián said, “I’m a sex worker.”

Alex held his breath. He cautiously turned to Kris and Clara. Their eyes were wide with surprise. Or maybe awe. It was hard to tell with all the blood rushing from his face.

“That’s genuinely so cool,” Kris said.

Damián shrugged. “It’s just a job. I like working with people, so I found a very people-y career.”

“Right. That’s how I feel. Only with dead people.”

Damián finally looked up from Yam. “Okay. Explain, please.”

“Kris is a curator in a museum,” Clara said. “She likes to make it sound as dramatic as possible.”

“I like the idea of people, but I don’t like being around them.” Kris held up her hands. “Not that I don’t like hanging around you guys.”

It earned her an obligatory laugh.

“I think I get it,” Damián said. “The idea of community is more palatable than going out and seeing people sometimes.”

“Studying how people interact is always less exhausting than actually interacting with people. I don’t lose any social battery this way.”

“I could be around people all day.”

Alex believed it. Damián was thriving sitting on that loveseat, surrounded by five other people and a dog who was begging for more affection.

“What do you like about people?” Damián asked. “Is it how people visit museums to see stuff about other people? Or is it how you can study people who are dead?”

“It’s a bit of both,” Kris said. Her eyes were bright. “When I get to pick up a bowl from a thousand years ago, I think about who else has held it, how it was used for the first time, all that shit. I get to learn about how it was made, and I can imagine who made it. Or when we get a toy, I just think about how an adult, somewhere, had to have made that for a child. And that child had to have been so excited to play with it. But I get to hold it now, all these years later, and years after me, someone else will hold it, and we all become part of this huge thing that started out as mundane and routine for the people who first handled it.”

Alex must have been more uncultured than he had initially known because he had never thought about museums like that. To him, they were quiet, dim buildings filled with stuff that looked a little bit like the stuff he had in his own apartment. He had never taken any time to think about the people attached to those things. He had never taken any time to think about how his things were attached to himself. Maybe in a hundred years someone would find his French press and feel connected with him over a shared love of pretentious coffee-making techniques.

“I think about sex work like that,” Damián said. “I get to meet with a client, and I get to be one part of this person’s life. And a lot of the time, people say sex work is free of all feelings, you know? Like in Pretty Woman, Vivian has that whole thing where she doesn’t kiss anyone because it’s too personal? I don’t think you can manage to isolate all feelings with sex work. I’ve had so many clients who just want someone physically with them, and then they feel relief and reassurance and, just, simple companionship. And sometimes that’s all they need to motivate themselves to find more personal connections with other people, and then I become a dot in that social web.”

Alex’s heart swelled. He could listen to Damián talk about sex for hours.

“That’s beautiful,” Clara said. “You have to be an extrovert for the job, don’t you?”

“I think it helps,” Damián said. “For your own sake. But I know some introverts who recharge alone between clients and won’t leave their apartments unless they’re working.”

“Unlike you right now?”

“I like people! I get my energy from others.”

There was no mention that he was, in fact, working right then with his client sitting right next to him.

Everyone settled into conversation. Alex even felt comfortable enough to start talking at times, offering his insights on the state of history museums, the medical industry, and even weighed in on what Yam’s Halloween costume should be. A firefighter, he agreed, would be the more ethical option over cop.

And then, finally, Kris and Clara asked the question Alex was hoping he wouldn’t have to answer.

“How did you two meet?”

Alex and Damián looked at each other. Martin sunk low into his chair.

“Well,” Damián said to Alex. “Do you want to tell them or?”

“You can,” Alex said.

Damián tried looking casual. “It started out as a prank. Someone hired me pretending to be Alex and told him that they were setting him up on a real date with a friend. And they let me believe it was just a normal appointment. He went through a whole dinner thinking it was a blind date, and I thought he was a client. Needless to say, things got a bit awkward.”

“Oh god.” Kris curled her lip up in disgust. “Isn’t that identity theft or something? Who did that?”

Martin, face red, sheepishly raised his hand. Damián gave him a pointed look.

“Martin,” Clara groaned. “What the hell? That’s not funny.”

“That’s what I told him,” Sam said.

“It wasn’t just me,” Martin said. “It was a few guys at the office.”

“What the fuck?” Kris said. “Why would you do that to them?”

“I didn’t—It wasn’t—I feel really bad about it. I’ve been trying to apologize for two weeks now, but I keep botching it.”

Sam’s face was also bright red, but she didn’t confess to her own faux pas.

Damián nudged Alex, tossed a glance at Martin, and shrugged. Alex was pretty sure he knew what he was asking, so he nodded.

“We can forgive you,” Damián said. “Totally. You’ve been absolved of all your sins.”

Martin looked quite pleased and relieved.

“Yay!” Clara clapped. “Martin, you’re still a dick. Your work friends are a bad influence on you.”

“Yeah.” Martin pulled at his sweater. “They might be.”

Alex wanted to hear more about that. He wanted the gossip on Andrew and Stu—mostly Andrew. He had endured their bullying for years, he wanted to know how the inner workings of their circle were dysfunctional.

But Damián laid his hand on Alex’s back, and Alex’s brain short-circuited. Every nerve ending in his body lit up in ecstasy.

“We can move on,” Damián said. “I’m glad Alex and I met, and that’s all that really matters. And, really, the more we dwell on it, the worse things get. Alex and I are ready to put it all behind us.”

He was now rubbing Alex’s back, his fingers moving up and down his spine. Alex was completely out of commission. It was such a simple touch, and yet Alex’s heart was racing. Something under his belt was starting to wake up, too, and Alex was scared that Damián kept going, he was going to pop a boner right there in front of everyone.

“In that case, does anyone want to play Trivial Pursuit?” Sam asked.

Kris groaned. “I was hoping you would forget about it this time.”

“Nope! We never forget!”

“I do want a rematch.” Clara pointed at Martin. “I’ve been studying.”

“You’ve been studying?” Martin asked. “Studying what?”

“Everything.” Clara waved her hand around in gentle, slow circles. “The world.”

Kris sighed and drained the rest of her wine. “Let me go to the bathroom before we start. I need to walk through the breathing exercises my therapist taught me.”

“I’ll get the game,” Martin said.

“Clara, I made little, tiny desserts,” Sam said. “Can you help me carry them in?”

“Only if they’re super cute tiny desserts.”

And somehow Damián and Alex were alone, awaiting a game of Trivial Pursuit. Even Yam had gotten up to retreat to his dog bed in the corner.

Damián pressed his palm flat to Alex’s back. He leaned in close until his nose almost touched Alex’s ear. “Are you doing okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah.”

“Just let me know if you’re not, and I can make something up to get us out of here.”

He laid his other hand on Alex’s knee, and that felt. Different. There was no one around who could see. There was no one to convince they were a real couple. If they were truly alone, if there wasn’t a risk of anyone stepping back in in the next minute, Alex wondered what Damián would do next.

“I think I’m actually enjoying myself,” Alex said. He was breathless. He’d have to excuse himself to do breathing exercises of his own in the bathroom.

“Good!”

Everyone returned, and Damián pulled his hands away from Alex. He left behind little cold patches on Alex where his body heat had been.

Clara picked up a tiny cookie, complimenting Sam on how she managed to make it so little. Martin sat up the board on the coffee table.

Alex hadn’t played Trivial Pursuit in years. It had been popular right before he was born, and he was familiar with the maroon box that sat in his parents’ hallway closet. Martin and Sam had an updated version that boasted its newness on the front. No more answers like “West Germany” or questions about what briefly-popular 1950s actor won an Oscar in what year.

“We’re kinda nerds,” Kris said. “Martin is the best out of all of us because he knows so much useless shit.”

Alex looked at Martin, sympathetically. His secret was safe with Alex. Martin could be a closet nerd as long as Martin was kinder to Alex and Damián, which Alex was confident was going to happen.

They split into their teams and rolled their die to decide who would go first. Alex let Damián choose their color—blue—and grabbed the first card for Martin and Sam. He cupped his hand around the back to block the answers.

“’What was the first music video to air on MTV?’” Alex read.

“‘Video Killed the Radio Star’,” Martin said.

Alex flipped the card over over. “Yup.”

“That one was easy,” Damián said.

“Everyone knows that,” Kris said.

Sam rolled again. An impressive four. Clara took a card and read a sports question. Sam answered correctly. The pattern continued, annoyingly, for another two turns until neither Sam nor Martin could answer what the former capital of Japan was.

“Alex, Damián,” Kris asked, “who hosted the first FIFA World Cup in 1930?”

Alex had never paid attention to soccer. He was impressed he even knew what sport the World Cup was for. But Damián’s eyes were wide, and he inched forward on the couch cushions.

“Uruguay!” he shouted—though he didn’t need to shout.

“Yeah!” Kris cheered.

“Do you like soccer?” Alex asked.

“Haven’t I told you?” Damián asked.

“No. It’s never come up.”

There was so much more about Damián Alex wanted to learn. He wanted to know what sports teams he cheered for, what his favorite meal was, what he actually did when he wasn’t working.

“Well,” Damián said. “I like soccer.”

“Roll again,” Clara told them, stern. “Talk about soccer later.”

Alex rolled a two. They were now one tile away from their first plastic piece of pie.

“’What are the members of Queer Eye referred to as?”

“The Fab Five!” Damián and Alex said in unison.

“Gay advantage,” Clara said, rolling her eyes and smiling.

Alex wanted to ask Damián if he wanted to watch the show later—the original. There were so many good memories of watching it in high school, in secret. Not that his parents cared. They also watched it on occasion, and Alex would always pretend like he had something better to do rather than sit through an episode with them, a confused feeling of guilt stirring inside him. 

Damián and Alex crushed the next three questions, getting their pie piece for Science and Nature. Damián nudged Alex every time they answered a question right, smiling and laughing.

Kris and Clara pulled ahead eventually. Then, Martin and Sam caught up. In the end, they all had five pieces and were leaning into the board like children.

Alex had never seen Martin relax and laugh. He was usually so stiff at work. Now, he looked goofy.

And Damián looked wonderfully happy. He was beaming. After two correct answers, they had landed on the pink wedge tile—the last one they needed to win.

“’What 1990 romantic comedy film was based on a Roy Orbison song?’” Kris read.

Damián’s mouth fell open. He grabbed Alex’s arm.

“You know this,” he said. “We just watched it together last week. I mentioned it, like, two hours ago.”

They had only ever watched one movie together.

“Pretty Woman?” Alex asked. 

“Goddammit!” Kris shouted, trying to throw the card down on the table. It gently floated down among the others.

Sam groaned and fell into the back of the couch with her arm dramatically thrown over her eyes. Martin scoffed. Clara quietly applauded.

And Damián grabbed Alex by the shoulders.

“Did we win?” Alex asked. “Was that it?”

“Yes! See, I knew it was a good idea to force you to watch Pretty Woman!”

And Damián wrapped his arms around Alex, pulling him into a tight hug. Alex froze there for a moment. Damián’s body was warm around him. Slowly, Alex laid his hands on Damián’s back. He could feel Damián’s shoulder blades, strong and poking out just a little. He could feel his heartbeat and the softness of his sweater against his skin.

They pulled apart, Damián keeping his head low as he turned back to the board and the others. Alex couldn’t see his face. He could see just part of a smile.

“And Martin and Sam’s win streak comes to an end!” Kris cheered.

“You fuckers,” Martin said, though he was smiling, cheeks rosy from the excitement.

“This feels good,” Clara said. “Cathartic. And we’d love to celebrate your defeat, but we should really head out.”

“Us too,” Alex said. It was already going on 10. It would be his bedtime soon.

They helped tidy. Damián carried empty wine glasses to the kitchen and complimented Sam on her wine choice for the night. Sam spoke so easily to him, the tension from the week before forgotten between them.

“You and Marcus are a cute pair,” Kris said.

Alex, his heart starting to ache, shrugged. “Thanks.”

“You two just… mesh well. I know you haven’t known each other for long, but I hope it all works out.”

Alex looked back to the kitchen at Damián. He was wrapped up in a conversation with Sam. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, head tilted.

They did mesh well. Alex firmly believed that. Damián was fun to hang around even if that evening had added another $200 to Alex’s bill. God. He was going to cry the day that Venmo transaction went through and his bank account reached an even sadder number than it was already at.

“You two are good together,” Martin said, face flushing. “So it might sound wrong, but I’m glad we did go through with the prank.”

Clara rolled her eyes. “Martin—“

“You’ve always been so timid,” Martin said. “We’ve known each other for, what? Six years? And this is the first time you’ve ever come out of your shell around the office. Whenever Marcus picks you up, you smile at him and rush out with him. You’ve never done that before.”

“I’ve never smiled before?”

“You’ve never smiled while running out of the office with someone else.”

Alex hadn’t realized he had been so sappy towards Damián. How embarrassing.

“I didn’t know you watch me from across the office,” Alex said.

“I usually don’t. But I really have felt guilty about the prank. And whenever Marcus comes in,” Martin lowered his voice. “Whenever he comes in, Andrew and Stu—mostly Andrew—has something to say, and I don’t know. They’re kinda pissing me off. So I let them leave on their own at the end of the day, and I end up watching you guys.”

Wow. That was way more thoughtful than Alex had ever expected.

“Can I ask why you guys did it in the first place?” Alex asked. “The prank? It was really stupid.”

“It was Andrew’s idea. I don’t know why he thought of it, but he said that if we got you a prost—a sex worker, then it would be doing you a favor. That you needed to loosen up. And Stu was jumping in, and then I couldn’t really say no.”

“You could have,” Kris said. “You could have said no.”

“I could have,” Martin said. “And I should have.”

But then Alex wouldn’t have ever met Damián, and he wouldn’t be sitting in a group of people who could be potential new friends. And he would have never gotten the chance to see the softer side of Martin.

He knew what peer pressure was like. He was starting to see the type of person Andrew really was—a bully, obviously, but a really nasty one.

“It’s okay,” Alex said. “I guess it worked out.”

But God, wasn’t that selfish? Damián could have been in real danger.

Damián walked up behind Alex and laid his hands on his arms. It was more touching than Damián really needed to do for the job. “Ready to head out?” he asked, rubbing Alex’s arms up and down.

Alex rose, wondering if that was how couples really acted. Damián grabbed Alex’s coat before sliding his own on. Kris and Clara lingered behind, slowly making their way to the coat rack.

In the elevator down to the lobby, Alex thought about Kris and Martin’s words. What was that hug about? And did Damián notice how Alex smiled at him?

“Do you want to do something else?” Damián asked.

“What?”

“It’s still early. We can go out or something.”

“It’s almost 10.”

“Ooh. Sorry. Forgot you have a normal job.” Alex thought Damián was being sincere for a moment. “I can take you home, and you can tuck yourself in bed and go to sleep for a whole eight hours. And then you can go to your little office job.”

Damián’s lower lip was jutted out in a fake pout. Alex shoved him with his shoulder.

“You’re making fun of me,” Alex said.

“We’re young! Let’s get a little ice cream or something and then you can go to sleep.”

Alex wouldn’t have said no for any reason. He followed Damián to the curb and climbed into an Uber to get to what Damián claimed was the best ice cream place in the world. Damián sat closer to him in the car than he needed to be.

Their date was over, after all. Damián could have gone home, job complete. $200 added to the total. But he was insisting on more time with Alex. And Alex could only tell himself that something good was happening.

[specialagentlokitty]

Mr Evershed x Student!reader - convincing act

Could I please request an Evershed x Student!Vampire!Reader? Platonic of course, where he sort of mentors her in the ways of being a human teen? And she helps him understand her way of life? Maybe a bit of comedic fluff where she makes a mistake? But he also likes supporting her from the sidelines at her first human Rugby Match? "Remember, don't try to decapitate your teammates with your strength!" 😂 - @casserole-from-dads-asserole 💜

Grumbling to yourself, you sat in the office, arms crossover over your chest as you glared at the blond man sitting next to you.

“I do not see why I have to be here Marshall.”

“It was your fathers wish, he wanted you to be able to adjust to human life and life among them in peace.”

“Rather pointless if you ask me, but fine I suppose I will humour the idea momentarily.”

The office door opened and closed, and two men walked in, one was balding and the other only had specks of grey in his hair.

He seemed hesitant as he offered his hand out to you, and you looked at it in slight disgust before pushing it away and he chuckled nervously.

“Right Uhm, I’m Martin Evershed, the acting headmaster of Ackley bridge. This is Ken, head of the trust for this school.”

“Pleasure, thank you for seeing us. This is (Y/N), I’m her uncle Marshall.”

“Right, we’ve spoken to the trust, and although the trust thinks this is a.. bad idea… your donation was more than enough to sway them.” Ken explained.

Marshall nodded along and you mindlessly examined your nails, letting the sharp tips glint against the light making the two other men in the room shuffle about nervously.

Marshall placed a hand over yours and pushed your hand back to your side making you roll your eyes.

“As you can see she has no standards when it comes to humans etiquettes or behaviour. I believe it would be beneficial for all involved if someone were to teach her how to act and behave like a normal person.”

“I’m sure Mr Evershed will have no problem doing that, right?”

The headteacher stuttered a little and adjusted his blazer as he turned to you, your (E/C) eyes boring into his making him look away.

“No.. no of course not. We would have to… deal with that before she can enrol full time however as a student for the safety of not just her but other students.” He explained.

“That is fine, she can either attend here a few times a week or you may come after school to teacher her.”

Mr Evershed and Ken both shared a look before nodding.

“It’s not really appropriate but after school would be best for now, see it as some extra tutoring.” Ken smiled.

“Very well, we’ll see you later then. Come alone (Y/N).”

You left the school behind you uncle and went back to the home he had gotten for you and you headed straight towards the kitchen to pull a bag from the fridge.

“Right let’s go over some ground rules.”

The ground rules were long, but you had no choice but accept them, and as the first session on how to be a human came along you found yourself bored.

Two months of this had passed, your uncle had to return home but made sure that you were getting fresh food every month, and checked up on you every week.

At excerpt 4pm your bell went and you spend over, answering the door to see the headmaster smiling as he waved a little.

“You need to walk to the door, no using that super speed.”

“Vampire speed sir, but I’ll try.”

“Great, let’s practice that. Walking to the end of the hallway.”

You did as he asked, and turned around, a grin on your face as you rolled your eyes.

“It’s not that hard to walk you know.”

“I know, but you need to get the hang of it if you’re joining classes next week.”

“I know, I know.”

“You also need to learn how to eat like us too. Can you eat human foods? It won’t make you sick or anything will he?”

Mr Evershed was concerned about this for a while, but he couldn’t put it off any longer, if you wanted to fit in you had to eat like everyone else.

You gestured for him to come to the kitchen and he did, and you picked up and apple, jumping up on the table you tossed it in your hands a few times.

“No, eating human food won’t make me sick. As long as I keep a healthy balance of both diets it’s no issue.” You explained.

“So you wouldn’t be able to live solely of human food?” Mr Evershed asked.

He set the bag he was carrying in the counter and started to unpack its contents into the fridge while you ate the apple you were holding.

You thought for a moment before answering.

“Well, theoretically I could yes. However it would have detrimental affects on my health, such as weakness, drowsiness, unpredictable hunger and uncontrollable rage.”

“Right okay, so keep you fed. Got it.” He laughed.

He looked over your fridge, at first the sight of see the bags on the shelves disturbed him, he was mortified.

Then you explained to him that they were simply blood donations from the hospital that were sat around to too long and weren’t considered safe anymore.

He closed the fridge and turned to you, leaning on the counter as he watched you toss the apple core across the room and into the bin.

“None of that either, remember you’re just another teen trying to figure their way through life.”

“Yes yes, no speed, no strength, no blood but if someone bleeds I need to leave right away, no flashing my eyes at anyone or threatening people.”

“Good, id say you’re ready now, I’ve just got some catch up work for you and you’ll be all ready.”

You found yourself oddly excited when you started going to the school, and it was more fun then anything you could have ever imagined.

You made so many friends and you fit in really well, remember everything Mr Evershed had taught you, but he still kept teaching you on human mannerisms.

You were sitting in his office reading a book during the lunch break when he came in, holding a bottle of water out for you.

“Thanks.”

“What did we say about your strength (Y/N)?” He sighed.

“Sorry sir, I didn’t mean to, sometimes it just easy to underestimate it.” You laughed nervously.

Setting your book down you shuffled in the chair so you were facing him and you gave him a sheepish smile.

Mr Evershed rolled his eyes and shook his head at you.

“I know, you just need to be more careful aside from me and Ken no one here knows about you, unless you’ve told anyone else?” He asked.

You shook your head, scratching the back of your neck a little.

“No, I don’t want to scare my friends off.”

“Well at least you’ve got friend now, that’s a good thing right? Did you have friends back in your community?”

“Well yes and no. I was the youngest out of us all, so although I spent time with the others I wouldn’t really call them friends.”

He nodded his head and you looked around, waving and Loraine who was knocking on the window.

She beamed and waved back at you, gesturing for you to come outside so you nodded and did, going to the front desk.

“I have someone who wants to talk to you.” She beamed.

“Oh?”

You turned around and saw the PE teacher standing there with a grin on his face.

“You’re the girl who kicked a chair across the classroom innit?” He asked.

“Yes sir, that was me.” You nodded.

“Awesome bro, I want you on the rugby team!”

You blinked, and looked around before spotting Mr Evershed who chuckled and walked over, leaning down to whisper what Rugby was.

Nodding, you turned around and shook your head.

“I’m sorry sir, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Come on bro, you’re like well good innit! We’d be a winning team with you!”

“Mr Hussain (Y/N) is currently under isolation due to her behaviour in class, I’m not sure rugby would be a good idea due to her outbursts.”

“Exactly why it’s a good idea, she can get all that anger or whatever out. Come in, just one try out all I’m asking.”

Mr Evershed looked down at you and shrugged a little.

“It would be good for you to do an after school activity.”

“Are you sure?”

“Just a tryout.” He smiled.

You nodded your head and turned to Mr Hussain.

“Okay sir, one tryout, next week.”

“Yes bro!”

He held up his hand and you lightly high fives him before walking back into the office to carry on with your isolation.

Mr Evershed walked in and sat back down.

“You guys don’t play rugby?”

“No we tend to avoid contact sports like that, it can get messy. We play baseball and stuff though.”

“Well, here, this is rugby.”

He handed you his phone so you could watch a few clips of professional rugby games and you got more and more worried as the minutes ticked by.

After school he took you by to watch the practice, and as the days got closer to your tryout you found yourself worrying.

“Remember what we talked about?” Mr Evershed asked.

“No strength, no speed, my jog is the same pace as their running, try to avoid coming into contact with anyone as not to accidentally hurt them.”

“And?”

You looked up at him and handed him your bag as you cracked a small smile.

“Have fun.”

“Yeah, have fun okay?”

You nodded and jogged over to meet the team.

You smashed the try outs, and you were officially on the team and it was going amazing.

Months after you started you were going to be paying in your very first game and you were beyond nervous.

“Come on bro, you got this.” Mr Hussain beamed.

You looked among the spectators trying to find the headteacher but he was no where to be seen and you frowned heavily.

You kept away from everyone, mainly passing the ball between the players, and jogging it up to the other end of the pitch for one of the girls to score.

“Come on shes useless she doesn’t do anything!” A girl on the opposite team scoffed.

You rolled your eyes and ignored her.

“What to high and mighty to reply? Ackley bridge is shit you’re barely even catching up to us!” She laughed.

“It’s just a wanna be team full of chavs and no bodies going anywhere.” Another teased.

You whipped around, hands balled into fists as you start to storm closer, fury in your eyes.

“(Y/N) don’t!” Spud yelled.

“Sir stop her!” Sam called out.

You carried on stalking forward, easily ducking under the PE teachers arms as he tried to grab you and stop you.

You were just inches from the girl who someone stepped between the pair of you, and you looked up.

“Look down.” He whispered.

You turned your head towards the ground, and hand on your shoulder he guided you from the pitch and turned you back towards everyone.

“Breathe, okay? Just ignore them.”

“They’re insulting the integrity of this team, the other girls who are tying their absolute hardest.” You growled.

“There’s always going to be people like them (Y/N), you can’t go punching them.”

You looked up, red eyes connecting with Mr Evershed and you sighed, blinking they returned to normal and he smiled.

“Good, that’s good.”

“Where have you been anyway? Thought you were going to watch the match.” You huffed.

He chuckled patting your shoulder as he shook his head at you.

“I was in a meeting it ran over time, but I’m here now aren’t I?”

“Only cause you somehow have a sense for them I’m gonna hit someone.”

“It’s just a skill.” He shrugged.

You grinned a letting and pushed his hand over your shoulder, giving him a thumbs up.

“I’m good.”

“You ready to get back out there?”

You nodded and started to jog away but he called out name out and walked over.

"Remember, don't try to decapitate your teammates with your strength.” He chuckled.

You grinned and shrugged before jogging away again and he walked to the sidelines.

You were still furious about what the girls had said, and an idea came to mind.

“Hey wait I’ve got a plan.” You said to everyone.

“Which is?” Spud asked.

“Simple, not once have they laid a hand on me during this whole game, I’m agile and quick, give it to me and I’ll get it to the other end.”

The girls looked at each other before nodding.

And they did, you were passed the ball each and ever time, and with ease you jogged it to the other end, sometimes passing it off to someone to score if the other team crowded you.

It was a tie game, and it all came down the the penalty kick from your team and they were debating on who should take it.

“Oi bro you do it.” Rukhsanna said.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you’ve got one hell of a kick!” Sam laughed.

You nodded and walked over, it all came down to this, you had to put just the right strength behind this kick to make it look believable but still win the game.

Scanning the crowds, your eyes landed on your mentor, and he nodded, gesturing for you to take a deep breath and you did before turning your attention back to the game.

You jogged over and your foot collided with the ball, sending it into the air and it went over the post and everyone cheered.

Your team picked you up, hugging you and cheering with the rest of the school and you were carried away to the locker rooms.

They were going in about how amazing you were and the game and everything and you sat there smiling.

“Hey guys do you want to… have a party at my place tomorrow to celebrate?” You asked.

They cheered and you beamed, changing you made your way around the school, trying to find Mr Evershed but you couldn’t.

Instead you went home and not later there was a knock on the door and you opened to find him standing there with a trophy in his hands.

“I couldn’t get you the actual one, so I went and got you this.”

“Wow…”

You took it and examined it, as a vampire you’d never been giving a trophy before.

You let him in and set it on your mantelpiece before turning around beaming happily.

“That was really fun! I loved it and I wanna do it again!”

“There’s another Match next month don’t worry.” He laughed.

You grinned and he gestured for you to sit down and you did.

“As you know the trust had placed you in the school on a probation period.”

You nodded.

He smiled widely.

“You can stay!”

You cheered and tackled him into a hug before quickly pulling away and grinning sheepishly.

“Sorry sir, I just… thank you. For everything.”

“You’re welcome, I’ll admit I had my reservations about letting you in because you know the whole vampire thing. But you make a conniving human.”

“What can I say, I’m just that good.” You grinned.

He rolled his eyes at you and you beamed brightly back

[sorvete-de-pacoca]

Olá! I was thinking about the post I made about the reincarnation trope, and I thought of this prompt.

Afonso is a single father with a 6 year old son, Luciano, and everything is normal until one day Luciano regains his memories of his past life as a god, his body turns into an adult and he leaves to join the other gods in a great battle.

Afonso is shocked, then heartbroken, and finally he realizes the son he had never existed, he was just a vessel for a god, and any love he had for him turns into hatred.

After the battle is over, he receives gifts from the heavens for his role raising the reborn god: wood for his boat, gold, jewels. He refuses all the gifts, tells the messengers to never come back. Living on that house becomes too painful, so he moves as far away as he can and tries to rebuild his life again, maybe even start a new family. A real one.

Then one night there's a knock at his door and Luciano is there.

Ooh I remember this post! This is a nice concept.

Gonna add with some more info because I'm weak for themes of gods. Luciano's true parent being Pindorama, one of the elemental gods and goddesses of nature. He's the reincarnation of the god of summer and fire. In his previous life he was killed by the god of winter and ice (Martin bc why not lol) and so winter got longer and harvesting was heavily affected. Luciano regains his memories and powers when Martin comes himself to face him disguised as a puma and Luciano uses his powers to save himself and Afonso (if you want I could write the scene bc putting it here would make it too long ;;).

So Luciano leaves and Afonso gets bitter. Years pass and the harmony comes back. Summer and winter live in a balance. Not only other gods but also citizens come to pay tribute to Afonso, the savior, for bringing summer back and restore their crops. Afonso shun then away with knifes or anything he has in hand. Screaming he was no savior and he cared not for their god.

Then Luciano is back. He finds him on his new home. He has the face of the boy he once knew but had grown. His once brown eyes now shined golden and he had regal clothes. A crown of five golden starts (😏) over his head.

Afonso is not impressed and just closes the door on his face.

"hey!" Luciano shouts "that was rude!"

"oh I'm sooo sorry your majesty" Afonso bowls in mockery "are you not used to receive proper tribute? How did you found me?"

"I have a link with the sun. Anything it touches reaches my eyes"

"sure, your 'godly powers'"

Luciano sighs "it's unfair that you're mad at me. I didn't chose that. Do you think I was thrilled about learning my life was a lie? "

Afonso feels rage growing "so that's what it was for you? A lie? Was I a lie to you?!"

"No! I love you as a father! But if I did nothing the world would continue to be a cold wasteland. I had a duty to fulfill."

"So let me ask you, oh god of fire" Afonso faces him "when the war ended, why didn't you come back? Was it necessary to live with the gods and forget your home? Was our home not enough for your greatness?"

Luciano stutters "I'm-"

"tell the truth! If you truly love me then respect me by telling me the truth! Could you come back?"

Luciano feels small against the smaller and older mortal. He looks away in shame "yes, I could've came home"

Afonso nods bitterly "please leave my house."

Luciano doesn't speak. He makes his way to the door, he stops and turns to his father "if you decide to forgive me, you can always call me. I will come to you. Goodbye father." The god disappears, leaving no sign that he was ever there. Except for the flowers that bloomed in the grass on the front door.

[heartofstanding]

Rewatching old favourite crime dramas...

I just finished rewatching Vera up to Series 9, am in the middle of a rewatch of Death in Paradise and have started rewatching Wallander as well and am having some thoughts so I'd thought I'd write a post instead of just stewing in these thoughts.

Vera

I love her, your honour.

I love Vera, I love the location and how it's so beautifully shot, I love the slightly gothic edge to the mysteries. Most memorable episodes for me are "The Crow Trap" and "The Deer Hunters". It holds up really well too - sometimes I'll rewatch a crime drama that I once loved and find myself getting increasingly intolerant of the way it deploys certain tropes, like the tortured brooding lead detective with anger issues and/or a tragic backstory or "internal investigations are bad actually" or "it's fine for the lead detective to lose his temper and almost murder someone" which spoiled Waking the Dead and The Inspector Lynley Mysteries for me (the latter in the final seasons, mostly). Vera lacks most of that kind of drama. Vera is, in a way, a tortured, brooding detective but it never takes over the story.

One thing I did pick up on is that while I don't really have any preference for Aiden or Joe as Vera's offsider, I do miss the way that Joe's character opened up different storylines. We don't get nearly as much about Aiden's family and home life as we do about Joe's, and we got more about Vera's past and private life with Joe, like the subplots about her half-sister and her angina. I do feel cheated that Joe's exit happened off-screen, between series, but apparently he's coming back in Series 13?

(n.b. I finished at Series 9 because I don't have Series 10 on DVD, I started Series 11 but it was a bit too fresh in my mind and Series 12 isn't out on DVD yet.)

-

Death In Paradise

This isn't the first rewatch of the show I've done (the early seasons I've rewatched multiple times, they're very familiar and I can remember whodunnit) but I haven't watched any of the newer seasons since Series 8, except for a couple of episodes (I watched the one with Sam West and the one where Camille came back). I'm halfway through Series 9 at the moment so officially this is no longer a rewatch but a first-time watch.

It's interesting to see how my opinions have changed. I still think the show was strongest in relation to its core concept in Series 1 and 2. You can really tell the way they were planning the show to unfold had they managed to hold onto Ben Miller as Richard and Sara Martins as Camille, and I do really like that version of the show. But they didn't and the show had to change and that's fine. I used to be very fond of Humphrey but I found him painful in the rewatch - he hits my second-hand embarrassment squick much too hard and his unrequited love for Camille was... ah, not good? I was glad to see him go, tbh. Perhaps because of that, I appreciated Jack a whole lot more - I previously felt he didn't really have much of a character beyond "rambling Irishman" but that is really unfair. I just watched his last episode and I'm very sad to see him - I also felt his ending felt a bit... contrary to the character and the way he threw himself into island life, becoming part of the community in a way neither Richard and Humphrey never did. Neville seems a bit of a return to Richard, in that he doesn't want to be on the island, except by making him have so many medical issues, it really feels like that yeah, he really shouldn't be there.

-

Have been pondering how awesome it'd be if the next Death in Paradise detective is in the model of Vera.

-

Wallander

I needed something to watch in the space where I normally watched Vera and I remembered how I was going to try and watch some things in Swedish in effort to help myself learn Swedish better (I'm doing the Duolingo course, it's not going well), and well, this isn't in Swedish but it's set in Sweden so it might just do for now. I went... slightly insane* over it in my first and only watch but I thought I was safe now.

Yeah, well that happened again.

The thing I really like about it is Tom Hiddleston's face the way in which it spends a fair amount time of the affects of coming face-to-face with violent, brutal crime. How intensely Wallander feels everything, how involved he gets, and how all of that just means he's held at a remove from his family, friends and co-workers. He has this remarkable empathy that keeps him cut off from them.

It's also beautifully shot and I'm obsessed with the title credits.

Parts of it hold up fairly well - I feel "Faceless Killers" is still very pertinent to today, though I suspect there would a bit less... "both sidesing" within the main cast. Parts of it do not hold up well, like "One Step Behind" which, uh, is kinda extremely transphobic in a way that does not refute the transphobia.

The language and accent choices throw me occasionally in this rewatch. I think what they ended up going for is the translation trope/convention where the characters are not actually speaking English but are actually speaking Swedish, we just hear them in English, and a similar logic applies with the British vs. Swedish accents. When we see text, it's in Swedish, not English, which tends to confirm my hypothesis. Given the unlikelihood of the BBC doing the series in Swedish and the perils of getting the cast to put on an accent (no one wants to accidentally invoke the Swedish Chef in a brooding crime drama), I think this "they're speaking Swedish, we just hear it as English" thing works pretty well. But there still moments where it pulls me out of the story because the dialogue sounds so terribly British.

Random note: the cast of the first episode is like, full of pretty damn famous people? Obviously, there's Kenneth Branagh and a pre-Loki Tom Hiddleston as series regulars. Plus there's Nicholas Hoult and Rebecca Ferguson in guest roles. There's also a lot of people who are the sort of people you know for turning up in British TV shows, like Sarah Smart and Sophie Stanton (who, most memorably for me, was Falstaff and Caliban in the Donmar Warehouse's Henry IV and The Tempest).

Also, this reflection from when I first watched the show is still true. I thought I was over my Hiddleston phase but he's so fucking pretty in this show. It's distracting. It's literally sir, sir, sir, I am trying to watch Kenneth Branagh have a mental breakdown while solving crime in Sweden here. Take your cheekbones and go somewhere else.

Which he does at the end of Series 2 and then I miss him. Obviously, it doesn't impact the series that much - I enjoyed Series 3 and 4, his character isn't important to the story and isn't that interesting. But I liked the dynamics of the team and I dislike losing that (we also lose Lisa at the same time, and Ann-Britt only sticks around for a bit longer before she's gone too). I'm sad we lose that. I'm also a depraved whump lover and frankly think it was a wasted opportunity. Send Magnus off horribly (as Ann-Britt and Svedberg were sent off) and let Wallander writhe and wallow around in the guilt and grief. Also, I am completely shallow and didn't really want Hiddleston to take his cheekbones and go.

* I, uh, may have written an 87k word thing that's 3/4 whumpy fanfic and 1/4 origfic because it was November and I was doing NaNoWriMo and I was too hyped up to research and too scared to commit fully to the fanfic. I've reread and I feel like it holds up ok. I think the Kurt voice is good, as is the "gets too invested without being able to show it" thing. I am experiencing the urge to turn it into proper fanfic. I need to see how S2 ends and S3 begins but it could even work well as a "and that's where Magnus went" fic. But I don't think there's a fandom for the show outside of the migratory Hiddleston smut fandom.

-

That last point is one of those things with British crime dramas. It's quite common for some of the regular cast to leave between series and you might get a throwaway line about why they're no longer there but there's no proper send-off, no real resolution for the character, and sometimes there's no explanation. It happened in Vera, Death in Paradise, Wallander, Waking the Dead, and probably more than I just can't think of. I understand why it happens but it does make for frustrating storytelling.

The most egregious is Joe leaving Vera - he was the most important character after her! We were invested in his relationship with his family! The relationship between him and Vera was so paramount to the series! And he just disappears between series and his departure explained in a line about a "big promotion". Sure, this ties up one of the parts of his storyline quickly but there's no scene to say goodbye to him, no sense of closure. He's just gone.

-

Both Vera and Wallander are based on novels by Ann Cleeves and Henning Mankell. I've read a few novels of both series (and Cleeves's Shetland series) and I have to say... I feel the TV series really elevate them. With Wallander, maybe it's a case of a bad translation or something else but it seemed to lack something - perhaps the prose felt too simplistic or too blunt? With Cleeves, I think it's a case of has all the right elements, just doesn't have the ability to take it to the next level... I find I enjoy her novels more when I haven't seen their TV adaptation or are significantly different, but they're still not novels that I have to read. I wish the Shetland series had stuck with adapting Cleeves' novels because I'm obsessed with their first/second series (it was released as one series in Australia) which were based on the Cleeves novels, and I feel like the Shetland novels that weren't adapted would make excellent TV.

There are also four Death In Paradise spin-off novels that feature Richard - I've only read two of them and only really remember the first, which was OK - not great, not as fun as the show but still fun. It's nice to get more Richard but it comes with a trade off: Camille, Dwayne and Fidel play much, much, much smaller roles than they do in the TV series.

[lonelyprinceofthedark]

You saw whatever you wanted to see. You had your "experience." Now you can pick out yourjob and be normal. - Well... - Well? Well, I met someone. You did? Was she Bee-ish? - A wasp?! Your parents will kill you! - No, no, no, not a wasp. - Spider? - I'm not attracted to spiders. I know it's the hottest thing, with the eight legs and all. I can't get by that face. So who is she? She's... human. No, no. That's a bee law. You wouldn't break a bee law. - Her name's Vanessa. - Oh, boy. She's so nice. And she's a florist! Oh, no! You're dating a human florist! We're not dating. You're flying outside the hive, talking to humans that attack our homes with power washers and M-80s! One-eighth a stick of dynamite! She saved my life! And she understands me. This is over! Eat this. This is not over! What was that? - They call it a crumb. - It was so stingin' stripey! And that's not what they eat. That's what falls off what they eat! - You know what a Oinnabon is? - No. It's bread and cinnamon and frosting. They heat it up... Sit down! ...really hot! - Listen to me! We are not them! We're us. There's us and there's them! Yes, but who can deny the heart that is yearning? There's no yearning. Stop yearning. Listen to me! You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. Thinking bee! - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! There he is. He's in the pool. You know what your problem is, Barry? I gotta start thinking bee? How much longer will this go on? It's been three days! Why aren't you working? I've got a lot of big life decisions to think about. What life? You have no life! You have no job. You're barely a bee! Would it kill you to make a little honey? Barry, come out. Your father's talking to you. Martin, would you talk to him? Barry, I'm talking to you! You coming? Got everything? All set! Go ahead. I'll catch up. Don't be too long. Watch this! Vanessa! - We're still here. - I told you not to yell at him. He doesn't respond to yelling! - Then why yell at me? - Because you don't listen! I'm not listening to this. Sorry, I've gotta go. - Where are you going? - I'm meeting a friend. A girl? Is this why you can't decide? Bye. I just hope she's Bee-ish. They have a huge parade of flowers every year in Pasadena? To be in the Tournament of Roses, that's every florist's dream! Up on a float, surrounded by flowers, crowds cheering. A tournament. Do the roses compete in athletic events? No. All right, I've got one. How come you don't fly everywhere? It's exhausting. Why don't you run everywhere? It's faster. Yeah, OK, I see, I see. All right, your turn. TiVo. You can just freeze live TV?

[badassbutterfly1987]

Day 2: Chance

Fandom: Dresden Files

Group: Susan Rodriguez + Maggie Dresden

Tags: Changes AU

Summary: Susan gets a second chance with her daughter.

They'd won the battle. The Red Court was destroyed. Martin, who'd betrayed her then played the willing sacrifice, was dead. She was fully human again. Her daughter was safe. 

Harry would never forgive her for what she did. Martin's blood was on her hands. She'd committed genocide. Most of the rest of the Fellowship, colleagues she had at least gotten along with, had aged into dust. The Mendozas were dead and her daughter, the sweet girl she had just wanted to keep safe, was traumatized. 

Maggie was sleeping now at least, resting safely in her arms. 

She'd been selfish and scared and these were the consequences. Putting Maggie with Marta and Julio Mendoza, normal humans that she had trusted and believed could give her daughter a normal safe childhood, had seemed the safest decision at the time; she still believed that but she should have told Harry. 

But Susan had kept finding excuses not to. It wasn't safe to travel when pregnant, not with how many enemies she had. Not safe to travel with a newborn either. There was a war going on and any nearby Wardens might identify her as the enemy, or part of the problem that started the war. Wasn't the kind of thing to tell an ex about over phone or letter either. 

The longer she delayed, the easier it was to just... not say anything. 

Susan had managed to convince herself that Harry wouldn't like the news. Maybe he would be angry that his ex was still causing him problems. Maybe he would alert the Wardens; there was no telling what the child of a half-turned Red Court vampire would be like. Maybe he would want to raise their daughter alone. Maybe he would insist they would be better parents if they were a couple again and want her to stay in Chicago with him; she'd probably have to stop directly helping the Fellowship in South America, giving up on the mission that had sustained her.

Most likely he would have just wanted to meet his daughter, try to find a place for her in his crazy magic-filled life. But Susan had taken that choice from him. 

She heard footsteps. Looking up, she saw Karrin Murphy approaching. She was tired after everything but there was still a sliver of unease; it was ridiculous to think that Maggie would be taken from her, but she was also the woman who had put her child in danger because of poor choices so it was hard to say. Besides, it wasn't as if Murphy had ever seemed fond of her.

But Murphy didn't do that, just sat beside her, looking as exhausted as Susan felt. 

"How is everyone else?" she asked to fill the silence. 

"Molly and a couple others were injured but no deaths. That's something at least."

"That's good," Susan replied. 

She should formulate a plan, find something to do. But she still had her sleeping daughter in her arms and Harry definitely wouldn't appreciate them wandering off. She just hated the waiting and not knowing what would come next. 

"I talked to Michael," Murphy said suddenly. "The Carpenters would be willing to take Maggie in."

Susan took a moment to think about it. The Carpenters seemed like good people, although she had only met them in passing a few times. They would keep her safe, like the Mendozas had tried to. Still, she hesitated. 

Another foster family, people that would be strangers to Maggie. Giving her up again seemed the easy way out. She'd made a mistake and now she had to make up for the damage she caused. Besides, she had the chance to be a proper mother. She needed Maggie, just as much as Maggie needed her. She didn't have anything else left.

"She's my daughter," Susan stated firmly. "I should be around for her. Maggie's my responsibility."

If Murphy thought her a hypocrite for denying Harry that options, she chose not to voice it. 

"All right, then you two can stay at my place." With that, Murphy walked away, probably to talk to Harry.

Susan sat with that for a bit. It was unexpected and might not go well. 

But she could work with it, and then she could figure out where she stood with Harry.

[gaycelebtea]

For the sake of juantin, i hope their schedules calm down a bit, and also just in general the buzz around them calms down a little bit as well so they can lead a bit more of a normal life. I would suggest for them to take a holiday together, post 1 picture (that doesnt even show where they are) and then just go off the radar for a couple of days or longer. Wind down and talk about how they want to move forward, that is truly what i wish for them. I agee for example the schedule of martin is too much. They just came outside the house and to be honest there was no rest (i’m really not counting a free day here and there, there were not many as we could follow as fans). Right now at the premier i do see that martin does seem a bit more dinstant. I do believe it’s possible there is something going on, but i just believed they are a bit overwhelmed and have too much going on which makes them anxious. It does feel like they are forced to do so many things together and forced into this couple position as a brand almost, and i can imagine that not comfortable for them. You want to be together and do things together because you want to, not because your manager has already scheduled 100 interviews, podcasts and premiers together. You want to dress similar because you want to out of love and not because it was on the agenda (i hope im wrong with this ofcourse). So i just hope their managament doesnt drain them from their spontaneity, thats my fear. Bless these boys and their pure love, i hope they make it ♥️

I totally agree with everything you just said. They have such a ceazy schedule. I think Martin did like 4 or 5 interviews/podcasts in one day. It's very possible Martin was just drained in that Kapra diner interview, and that's why he looked a bit distant.

I also agree they need time off from everything, just to be by themselves and talk and relax. It was Martin's birthday yesterday and seems like they spent a few days at a glamping site. It makes me happy that they are together and are taking time just for themselves. They have barely posted anything, which is a good thing! They need some alone time. And as you said: management has basically made them a brand. It's good they're taking some down time to relax. They seem fine now. If they were having issues at least they're together now and are able to talk it out, if anything is bothering them. If not then this is a well needed vacation foe them. They both deserve it because they've been working so hard!

[thatforgottenbasilisk]

speak no evil

Words: 2210 (AO3)

Originally Posted on 2/7/2024

Summary:

Martin lives in the Archives. It's supposed to be a temporary arrangement, so he sees no reason to complain about the cold, or about the occasional fog that sneaks its way into the room he's sleeping in.

For Febuwhump 2024 Day 7: Suffering in Silence

Martin Blackwood is a very quiet person.

He's been quiet all his life. At home, then at school, then at work- in every place he's frequented, everywhere he's been by choice or by obligation, anybody who cares to notice him would describe him as a man of few words. That's not to say he wouldn't happily chatter about whatever he finds interesting, it's just that nobody cares to ask and he isn't one to volunteer.

He wonders if that's why nobody noticed when he was trapped in his flat for two weeks. He wonders if they questioned it, how easily they were mollified by a texted assurance of sickness; did Jon check in more than once, or did he brush it off entirely? Did Jane preemptively explain his absence, or did somebody inquire about it? He could check the texting history on his phone, all he'd have to do is phone his network and they could find it and send it to him, but does he really want to look? Does he really want digital evidence of how little everybody else cares about him?

He doesn't fault them, not really. The rest of the Archives are his coworkers, not his friends; Martin has never been lucky enough to have real friends. He tells himself that it's because of circumstance, because he's never had time for plans or anything, because if it wasn't because of that then it would be because of himself.

He's fine with the idea of it being some fault of his own, something he needs to compensate for, but to have confirmation would be even more devastating than the ever-present suspicion. It's not so much that he's fine with it, actually, more that he's accepted it as a real possibility, but it still hurts when he thinks about it too much.

The least that he can do now is stay out of everyone's way while he's stuck in the Archives 24/7. After all, his coworkers aren't really his friends, and they probably don't enjoy having to face evidence of the fact that he's living in their workplace- sure, they're nice about it, but he probably disappears from their minds the moment that they leave the building. He doesn't want to impose.

That's why he doesn't complain about the chill at night. It's not exactly consistent, usually only becoming a problem when he's alone and Jon isn't pulling another all-nighter at the Archives, and it doesn't bother anybody but him. It's probably the product of an uncooperative air conditioning system, or else something weird to do with being underground- pressure changes and all that- so either way it's not something that anybody around here can fix. They don't want to hear his whining, anyway, because who would want to listen to that?

So the chill at night remains an unspoken annoyance. He's bought two spare blankets, but they don't help much- the air somehow cuts through them like they're not even there, chilling Martin down to the bone. He doesn't waste any more money on blankets, just accepting that he'll be cold at night until Jane Prentiss is no longer a threat to them. Some nights, he swears he can see his breath fog up in front of him, though it surely can't be that cold in a building that isn't designed for that kind of temperature. Besides, he remembers coming in early some days, before he moved in here full-time, and the temperature was relatively normal, no sign of having dipped below freezing like it feels like it is now. It's just his imagination, and he's just being over-dramatic.

The thing is, no matter how dramatic he's being and how minimal the actual problem is, he still doesn't like the cold and he's still pretty good at recognizing patterns. When Jon is here, it's a normal temperature- and no, Jon isn't touching the thermostat, because he doesn't leave his office until around two in the morning and by that point Martin already knows that it's not going to get cold that particular night. Would it then be awful of him to try to make sure that Jon stays more often?

Of course it would. He feels bad for even thinking it, asking Jon to sacrifice his own health for the sake of him being able to sleep comfortably.

So he doesn't say or do a thing, just quietly sits with the thought that it's cold when he's alone and Jon makes it go away. Is it just Jon, or is it anyone? Nobody's ever stayed the night other than Jon, so it can't really be assumed either way, but it would be kind of nice to imagine that Jon alone has some sort of special power keeping the cold away. That's probably not it, though, probably something to do with whatever is controlling the temperature detecting multiple people instead of just one, or maybe he's not moving around enough for the thermostat to detect anyone in there at all. Never mind that he's never heard of a person-detecting thermostat, this is a temperature-controlled archive, so it's probably got the latest in technology in that regard.

Martin is lying down on one of these nights, the ones where Jon actually practices self-care and goes home, and all of this runs through his mind and almost distracts from the fact that it's colder than it has been before. Martin could swear that it's his imagination, that it just feels colder because he's thinking about it, except for the fact that the way his breath curls into thick puffs of white is too clear to be imagined. It's cold in here, and there's no way to deny it anymore.

What should he do? There is no thermostat on this floor, instead it's upstairs and has to have a department head's passcode entered in first before anybody can change the temperature. The time is far too late for him to book a hotel room for the night, and he isn't sure if he could afford it or if any in the area- the expensive-as-hell area- even have any rooms available. Similarly, it's also too late to buy another blanket in case the third time turns out to be the charm, or do anything to stave off the cold besides making himself a mug of shitty breakroom tea.

He sits up to do just that, and notices a subtle layer of a strange white mist hovering about an inch over the floor. It's completely still, and doesn't seem to be fog somehow carried in from outside, if that's even possible to do. Martin immediately abandons the idea of getting tea, and instead decides to lie back down and pretend that nothing is happening.

Jane Prentiss hadn't been able to get in the door, but her worms could. Hypothetically, this mist operates under the same principle; there is something standing on the other side of the door, waiting patiently to kill him.

He's supposed to keep that from happening, isn't he? He's supposed to fight, or hide, or something. Maybe call out to the thing that is almost certainly outside that door. He should be more afraid.

He is not afraid.

After all of this, after all the running and hiding, dying feels more like a chore than anything else. It's been looming over his shoulder for long enough that he's grown used to it. With Jane, he'd been afraid of dying, yes, but also of how painful it would be, how invasive, how disgusting the whole process would be, but this? This feels like nothing. This is just the cold, it's just some mist, and while he doesn't like it, it's also far from anything new. His childhood home was cold, many of his old flats were cold, and this is just more of the same.

So Martin decides to fall asleep, without doing a thing against the monster at the door. Who cares, anyway? Who's not half-expecting to find him dead in the morning? Whatever happens will happen. At least this is more comfortable than the alternative.

-----

Nothing hurts anymore.

Nothing hurt much before, either, at least that's what Martin likes to tell himself. Things that once bothered him in the deep, dark crevices of the part of his mind that felt things can't reach him now, and that's what's important. It's all numb, all so very far away from anything that could hurt him.

Martin thinks that he probably did die that night the mist showed up. Jane's worms don't bother him anymore, and nobody has noticed any kind of change in him, and that's all that matters. He once would have liked to think that somebody would notice if he were a dead man walking, lost to everything he'd once loved, but now he knows better. He knows that it's best not to expect things of anyone. It's better that way.

Instead, he keeps his head down and does his work. It's become both easier and harder, since he went numb, because on the one hand he just doesn't care anymore, and empathy had apparently slowed him down much more than he had previously thought, but on the other hand finding sources and information is somehow less intuitive than it used to be. Maybe that means something, to someone that isn't him. Maybe Jon would find it interesting.

Or maybe he just wouldn't care.

Martin hasn't told anyone about it. About dying, about Going Numb. He doesn't know what he prefers calling it, so it changes from truth to euphemism on a dime, but it's all the same thing. It all means he's as cold as the grave, always, in perpetuity, because something tried to kill him and evidently didn't do it well enough to make it stick. He doesn't know if he's grateful for that.

Is it better to live like this, or to just die? To live as an unfeeling shadow of himself, or not to live at all? This life is exhausting, more so than it ever was before, and he doesn't know what that means. He doesn't know if that's just a side effect of Going Numb, or if he's meant to do something about it. He'd almost wonder if he's been turned into a vampire or something, but that sounds stupid even to him.

No, whatever he is now, it's nothing he's ever heard of before. Like a ghost possessing its own corpse, maybe. Something dead walking around in a shell of its living self.

"Martin!"

His thoughts are interrupted by Jon's sharp tone, much louder than it should be if it's coming from his office- Martin blinks, and Jon is standing next to his desk, staring at him. Tim and Sasha are nowhere to be seen.

"Are you alright?" Jon asks, in the slightly exasperated tone of somebody who's been calling a name several times with no answer. Martin's been doing that a lot lately, accidentally ignoring everybody until they get aggravated with him. He supposes it's just a part of being dead.

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine, Jon. Nothing to worry about." Martin responds quietly, and tries to turn back to his work, which consists of a completely blank document staring at him from his computer, with a couple of unopened files sitting on his desk.

"Are you sure? I mean, the idea of Jane Prentiss coming back is worrying to me, and I'm not even the one she was after, so I can't imagine..." He trails off, then clears his throat, "It's alright if you want to take a few days off." Jon tries to appeal to whatever feelings of fear Martin might have, not realizing that those feelings are long gone. They are all long gone.

The idea of time off isn't appealing, either. What's he going to do? Sit alone in his little room, with nothing but the cold to accompany him? He'd rather be out here, at least pretending to be alive for a few hours at a time. At least the awareness that there's a hole where feelings should be isn't ever-present while he's working. He can pretend not to notice it if he's focusing on other things.

"Yes. I'm fine. I'm not scared of Jane Prentiss getting me, so you can go back to work now, Jon." The last part is even true. What can she do to him that would actually matter? He can't feel pain, not really. He can't feel most things. He's already dead. What else is there?

Jon hesitates, looking a bit like a cat that's just been kicked, before finally going back to his office and leaving him alone.

Is that what he wanted? To drive away the one person who actually seemed concerned about him? Before he died, he craved something like this, someone noticing that something was wrong, acknowledging it, but it feels like it's far too late for that now. He doesn't want anybody reaching out to him now, not when they didn't before. Nobody cared about him when he was alive, when he felt, so now that he's dead and numb nobody should suddenly start to care about him now.

He doesn't feel bad for pushing Jon away. He can't. There's nothing to feel at all anymore.

[rafor]

Chapter 19 - Day 2 - The Glitch

The first day of “pre-training” was a whirlwind of new experiences and sensations. I wished I had more time to learn from Leo, but I was grateful for what he taught me. The next day, however, I noticed something odd: I had not eaten or drunk anything for two days, and I felt no hunger or thirst. I realized that maybe I was no longer a normal living being but something else. An entity, perhaps, or a hybrid. An entity that could bleed and touch, that was visible, and that was learning. Everything seemed convenient for me. I wanted to share this with Akira, but when I saw her again in the late morning, she had a companion. A young dragon who looked timid and scared. We exchanged a few words, but he did not introduce himself. He was a thirteen-year-old dragon without an element, or so Akira said. He had trouble distinguishing reality from his nightmares. She added that some dragons manifested their element later in life, but it was rare.

I did not see Leo that day. Instead, I was summoned to the castle that loomed over the city. A guard escorted me through the gates and into a building that amazed me. It was not a royal palace but an office complex. There were bureaucrats and clerks working in cubicles and meeting rooms. The guard led me to the highest and farthest room, where I met the most unusual dragon I had ever seen. She was pink. A bright, punchy pink that hurt my eyes. Her name was Aura Aetherius. They even called her the Ascended Guardian. She was the ruler of this kingdom and the only dragon known to have more than elemental powers.

She greeted me with a smile and said, “So you’re the Raphael that everyone is talking about, aren’t you?” I did not know who she meant by everyone, so I said, “I guess I am. I’m Raphael.” She asked me, “Nice to meet you. I’m Aura Aetherius. Do you have a surname too?” I tried to remember my surname from my previous life, but it was just not there. I said embarrassedly, “I don’t know. I just got my name. I’m sorry.” She said, “No problem. We can pick one for you. You’ll need it. How about Raphael Lightbringer? Or Raphael Human?” I did not like those suggestions, and I wondered why she cared so much about my surname. I said, “Can I think about it for a minute?” She said, “Sure, or you can look at this book. It has a list of names you can choose from.” That seemed ridiculous to me. You don’t pick your surname from a book! I racked my brain for my old surname and finally remembered it: “I think I’ll go with Raphael Martin. That was my old surname.” She pondered for a moment and said, “Martin? That’s an unusual surname. But since you’re an unusual case, I suppose we can allow it. Can you spell it for me?” And so I did: M-a-r-t-i-n.

She wrote it down on paper and signed it without even touching it. Then she put it aside, and it vanished into thin air. I gasped and said, “Where did it go?” She said, “It’s being processed. You’ll receive your official documents soon. Everyone in our kingdom has an ID card. You do know what an ID card is, right?” I said, "Yes, of course I do. I used to have two in my old world: one classified and one civilian. But they are gone now."

She said, “Well then, you’ll have one again soon enough. Signed by the Queen herself.” That’s when my heart stopped for a moment. She was the queen. No one had told me who I was meeting today. I said in shock, “You’re the Queen?” She looked at me with amusement and conjured a crown and some golden jewelry on her head and neck.

She said proudly, “That’s right, I’m the Queen. Some call me the Ascended Guardian too, because that’s what I am. Don’t let my appearance fool you. There’s no one older than me in this world.”

I did not know what to say to that. Then another question came to my mind: how did she know my age? She had not asked me that either.

I said cautiously, “You look very young for your age, then.” She chuckled and said, “Thank you for the compliment. You’re 25 years old, by the way. Exactly one hundredth of my age.”

I was stunned again by her revelation, especially by her ability to read mine.

I said incredulously, “You’re 2500 years old? How is that possible? How old is this world?” She said, “It’s possible because I’m a rare breed of dragon. Almost golden, but not quite. This world is ancient, my dear, but major changes have only happened recently. And according to the soothsayer who assigned you, something more interesting is about to happen soon. I can’t wait to see it.”

I was speechless. I tried to make a joke and said, “I’ll be ready for it.” She said, “Oh, I’m sure you will. But don’t get too excited. You haven’t seen mass exterminations yet. They are terrible, but necessary.”

That was the second time I heard that phrase. I had seen war and death in my old world, but not on that scale. I said quietly, “No, I haven’t.” She said, “But you have died yourself, haven’t you? So have I. More than once. We have something in common: we both got a second chance to live.” I said, “I suppose we do. It’s good to know I’m not alone.”

We did not talk much longer after that. Someone knocked on the door and handed us a letter. The Queen gave it to me and told me to open it. It was a pile of papers for me. They had my name, my signature somehow, and some basic information. There was a date of birth and a date of first appearance. The date of birth was 25 years ago, and the date of first appearance was two days ago. There was no month, only a day and a year.

I asked her, “Why is there no month here?” She said, “We don’t use months here. Only days. There used to be a system based on moons and seasons, but it’s obsolete now.” Amazed, I thanked her for the explanation.

She wished me good luck and told me I could continue with my mission. She said she supported me and that I could ask her anything if I needed help. I thanked her again and left her office.

The guard escorted me out of the castle and back to the city. The day was still young, but I felt lost and confused. I wandered around aimlessly, hoping to find someone to talk to, but no one paid attention to me. I was little and alone. Like a ghost. Like before.

[archival-material]

AU 1 - The Other Side

<S5 Spoiler Warning>

Now, I don't read a lot of 'fan-fictions' based off the series, and I probably should but I focus more on writing things out rather than reading it. This is unlikely to be a unique idea, but this would very much be my perspective on it.

Picture this-

That scene, the very end of season 5 where the audience is led to believe that Jon has been killed to sever the connection to the Eye so that the tower may crumble- so on and so forth. Is it specified where Martin stabbed? What if they are actually still alive out there, living out their lives in a 'normal' world without the Great Fears...

And Jonathan has no eyes.

I think this would be fun to write out as a scene, though I'm not focused enough to really write out fanfics for myself. But-

Martin, learning how to be perceived again. He can no longer hide away, he is no longer lonely. Jon, no longer connected to the Eye, no longer having the Web connected to him. Re-learning to live not only without the need for statements, without being able to just Know things, and also having to learn how to be without sight altogether.

Of course they disappear after. Granted, they're likely hurt from the fall of the tower, but they've been hurt before. And they find it as a chance to a new kind of freedom. Breaking away from it all, from their old lives that held primarily just the people who went looking for them after. Basira, Georgie and Melanie.

But no more Institute, no more Archives. They could break away entirely and carve themselves an entirely new life together.

I suppose this would be a bit more of an optimistic ending, a suggestion that not only did the majority vote take care of the Fears in sending them out of their world, but that both Martin and Jon survived the crumbling of the tower. Also, survived and didn't get taken with the Fears like a possible majority of prime Avatars would have.

It could open up either with their climbing out of the rubble and tending to each other, or maybe someone else helping them out. Getting back on their feet, getting the heck out of London. Travelling the world, or finding a nice place to just settle and never have to deal with horrible, awful, no-good things ever. Maybe even Annabelle planned for something like this, in hopes of things gone well. Watching Jon as often as she did, perhaps she guessed what route he would take on everything. And while he did want to prevent the spread of the fears, to keep them there- opposite of her offer and suggestion- she could've surmised that it would never really go his way, and I personally think she sort-of liked him to a degree that maybe she set up either a person to find them after, or a place for them to go to.

That all being said for the possible massive amounts of fluffy aftercare from the Fearpocalypse- Considering how deep others were into their fears, it would be interesting to determine who disappeared that day and who stuck around to re-learn how to live as a normal being.

Would the fears have left them with a trauma for the jobs they've done over time, or would they have been relatively alright?

I first honestly think of Oliver, who definitely died for The End. He was in command of his own domain, and while Inevitability was his thing- maybe his inevitability to die and all of that had been re-routed by becoming an End avatar. So he either would be gone for how deeply rooted (pun intended) he was into his fear, or maybe stripped of all of that he was left with a sense of loss and a worry for his own inevitable end that followed a more 'natural' route of things.

It would be interesting to determine who was 'too far gone' verses those who could reasonably survive the loss of their fear patron.

Ultimately, this 'Other Side' AU would be the other side of the Apocalypse. We've seen the whole beginning and lead up into it (or listened to, rather), but given that MA:2 is probably not going to be related to the main MA storyline, it feels pretty open to speculation and imagining what would go on.

It would also open things up to the chances of things coming back. But that's a whole 'nother can of worms we'll just have to open another time.

Here's one from the host, an AU brainworm.

[an-aura-about-you]

August 19th, 1997

Crossing the Bridge

Somewhere Else Under the King

In today's entry, Martin gets a geography lesson that causes an epiphany:

Martin is grateful for the glossary and index in the back of the annotated scriptures. It’s made understanding and checking for references in Jackson’s poetry much easier. Not that it’s been particularly helpful with inspiration for a collaboration yet, but it’s a place to start.

He’s checking on references to lovers today, which is an easier topic than it had been but not exactly great. It’s not like he hasn’t been going to see Jon, and they’ve been talking on the phone in between visits. (Though nothing’s topped that particularly awkward call when he learned that Jon’s feelings for him have become psychically contagious. He’s resolved to stay off the internet until he can search his name without wishing for a safe for work filter.) It’s almost something approaching normal, even more so than suddenly running off to Scotland to hide for a few weeks. This is something that roughly resembles proper dating. But something seems just out of grasp.

He opens up to the one chapter referenced in the index, but he stops reading and slams the book shut almost immediately after he starts.

Okay. He was expecting some of that considering he already knew about Jackson’s use of the term Lonely Lover, but he definitely wasn’t expecting everything he got in that little glance. Right. Jon will want to know about this. Which means he should probably read at least a little more of it now. He opens the book and tries again.

“Guess what?” Jackson practically sings as he sails into the library. “That tabloid article I found before actually was about Jon and we didn’t know it!”

Martin won’t say no to the distraction and looks up from the book. “You’re kidding.”

“No! They actually ran a correction for it so they don’t miss out on the ‘man suddenly appears out of nowhere’ story. They think he’s disappeared instead of just left Clanbronwyn for London, though, so it’s not like they’re completely reliable. But still, isn’t that a kick?”

“Clanbronwyn?” Martin asks. Sounds Welsh, and he doesn’t exactly have every place in Wales memorized or anything, but something about the name feels odd.

Jackson nods. “It’s an island off the Anglesey coast of Wales.”

A chill starts to trickle down Martin’s spine. “Has there always been an island there?”

“Well, technically, it used to be a peninsula, but it’s been an island for as long as I can remember,” Jackson answers. “I can show you on a map if you like?”

“Could you?” Martin asks. “Please?”

Jackson goes to track down an atlas or map, which fortunately doesn’t take long. He opens the atlas and shows Martin the page with Wales. And right there, off the northern coast, is a dot that Martin’s never seen before neatly labeled, “Clanbronwyn.”

The sensation that had been trickling down fully hits him at that moment. The hazy, dreamy state of surviving in this new life has melted away, and a new reality settles in. This is different and permanent. There’s no going back, and there never was. This is a world that he thought he knew but really doesn’t. A world that is similar but entirely different that he’s been pretending in.

A heavy, cold pit of guilt sinks in Martin’s stomach.

He had been completely on board to doom this world to the Entities.

Not only does he not know if the world he will never see again is no longer hell, will never know if that world is no longer hell, this world where he’s living now nearly became hell, might still become hell. Is there a world that is in hell now? A world like this, with people like Jackson, Claire, Trilby, Jim, Lydia, Jessica, and Frank all just trying to live their lives? They’re just as real as anyone from the world he knew.

What happened to his world wasn’t right, and they were caught between two wrong choices, but at this moment he can’t stomach the idea of dooming this place.

And Jon was the only one to see that at the time.

He even brought it up in their row that this world wasn’t fucking ending when he was the one who had chosen to risk that! It took living here nearly a month for him to see it! And right now he can’t see anything else!

“I have to go,” he tells Jackson, getting to his feet and rushing to his room.

“Martin?” Jackson calls after him. “Martin, what’s wrong?”

But Martin is gone without an answer for him.

-

Martin hurries to Jon’s flat, urgently knocking on the door. He can’t just let himself in, not for this.

Jon answers the door with a soft, annoyed, “Yes?” before recognition kicks in. He lights up with bemusement as he says, “Martin! You don’t have to knock, I gave you a key...” By the end of his sentence he’s taken in Martin’s state of distress. “What’s wrong, love?”

“I’m so sorry,” Martin says, shuddering.

Jon takes his hands, gentler than he feels he deserves, and leads him inside the door. “Sorry for what?” he asks as he quietly closes the door behind them.

Martin shakes his head a little. “For not… not listening to you.”

Jon softly squeezes his hands, keeping his hold steady. “What do you mean?”

“I mean here!” he says, taking one of his hands back to gesture to their surroundings. “This world. Other worlds. Knowing what can happen to it, what I was willing to let happen to it! I didn’t think about it or didn’t want to! And now I can’t stop thinking about it!”

Jon watches him a moment as understanding seeps in, then he stays silent and allows Martin to continue if he wishes.

“I’m so sorry, Jon,” Martin says again, the words rough from the start of a crying jag. “I’m sorry I let you stand alone on that, didn’t even stop to consider it. And the way I’ve been acting here, god, I can’t even imagine how selfish you must think I am, not even thinking about it until we’ve been here a month-”

Jon fiercely pulls Martin into his embrace at that, cutting the thought off there. Martin holds him tight in return, adjusting slightly when he hears a stifled moan of pain.

Jon places a hand on the back of Martin’s head, softly stroking his hair. “Martin,” he says, his voice the gentlest Martin’s ever heard it. “Do you remember what I said when we talked about what happened before? I trust you. I’ve already forgiven you. I still mean every word of that.”

Martin shivers as he hides his face in Jon’s shoulder.

Jon eases them down so they’re both kneeling on the floor, still stroking Martin’s hair and now rubbing soothing circles in his back. “My love,” he says. “I’m just as selfish as you.”

Martin hiccoughs at that.

“However we want to judge our choices, they brought us here,” Jon tells him, pressing as close to Martin as he can. “And at least for right now, I don’t care how selfish it is that I don’t regret that. I’m here with you, and that’s all I want. So- so if I can be selfish about that, I don’t see why you can’t be, too.”

The two stay like that for a little while, Martin crying and Jon trying to soothe him with soft words and gentle caresses and tender kisses. Maybe he was looking in the wrong places for closure, maybe closure is just a myth, but he feels the shift from this exchange. It feels like finally moving forward, in tiny steps but moving somewhere better. Maybe that’s too hopeful, but as much as it’s hurt before, his hope hasn’t failed him on this yet.

“Can I stay?” Martin asks once his crying subsides.

“Of course you can,” Jon answers. “You can always stay here.”

One pizza delivery for dinner later, Martin picks up his bag and digs through it for his work.

“Do you plan to stay the night?” Jon asks, a touch of hope in his voice.

“For a few nights, if that’s okay,” he answers, finding the book he wants and setting it on the table. “I’ve been getting-” He interrupts his thought with a sigh. “-some worrying information from my boss? And I wanted to let you know about it.”

Jon turns the book to check the title. “The Annotated Books of Chzo?” he reads aloud.

Martin nods. “It’s not like Leitner-dangerous, just cult-dangerous. Heard about the Order of the Blessed Agonies yet?”

Jon frowns. “Some from Trilby, but he doesn’t know much, either. Just enough to know we don’t want to deal with them.”

“Yeah, that’s not wrong,” he agrees. “My boss used to be a member, and his family’s all over them, so some of his poetry’s inspired by it. Which, that’s whatever, poetry’s good for processing that kinda thing. But then I got to a chapter at the end of the Book of the Bridge, and things got uncomfortably familiar.”

Martin reaches for the book and opens it at the bookmark sitting in it. The chapter in question is titled, “The Lovers’ Bridge.”

Jon reads for just a few seconds before recoiling. “There’s a Watchful Lover?!”

Martin winces and says, “Yeah. Don’t think we can just dismiss Letters From the Lonely Lover as a coincidence anymore.”

Jon checks the page again and asks, “When was this written?”

“Originally? 1779 by Jack Frehorn,” Martin answers. “The book’s split between history and prophecy, not really surprising with religious texts. Don’t know when this annotated version was first done, but I’m pretty sure Dorian Lovelace is my boss’s father.”

Jon skips ahead to see how far the account goes, face growing more severe as he does. “So, what does this mean for us? If it’s all true and we’re the ones it’s talking about, that is. Is your boss trying to recruit us? Is the cult interested in us?”

Martin leans his head into his hand. “No and probably not. That’s the thing I don’t get: the cult full on believes the prophecies, even thinks some of them have already happened, but they don’t care about this one. Jackson said it’s a missing chapter in most prints.”

Jon turns the book so he can flip open the back, finding the index. “Do you know about anything the cult considers as one of the prophecies coming true? Any real events tied to them?”

“Not beyond the annotations,” he admits. “I’ve been focusing more on the concept of agony itself. So, y’know, having loads of fun with that.”

“Let me find some paper,” Jon says, getting up and heading to his room. He comes back with a notebook and a couple of pencils and wastes no time getting to work, flipping sections back and forth as he combs through the book.

Martin sits and watches him, aching at how easily Jon sinks into it like he did in the archives. “Guess the good news is if it’s a prophecy that’s already happened, there isn’t exactly a deadline to figure anything out.”

“Makes sense,” Jon says. “Prophecies like this aren’t really for the people they’re about, are they? Usually they’re a warning for someone else.” He keeps reading, and it’s not long before his breath hitches.

“Ah, I haven’t read the whole thing,” Martin admits. “What is it?”

Jon exhales through his nose and taps at the words with the back of his pencil. “It’s getting more familiar as it goes on. ‘That Blessed Agony of Loneliness.’ Not hard to tell what that was. Have to admit, Frehorn captured the spirit of my thoughts even though I wouldn’t have been able to articulate them like this.” He softly reads aloud, “’I see you in your Loneliness, and I will take you away from it to be mine.’ Sounds about right.”

Martin makes a little surprised huff, his cheeks going red. “Well, when you say it like that ...” He reaches and gently takes Jon’s free hand.

Jon laces their fingers together and puts his pencil down. “Maybe that’s enough for tonight,” he says. “I don’t know if I’m ready to look at the next part, anyway.”

“Jonathan Sims calling it a night early?” Martin laughs. “It really is a whole new world.”

“To be fair, his boyfriend’s had a hard day and he doesn’t want to keep him waiting,” Jon replies before pulling their hands up and leaving a kiss on the back of Martin’s.

The phone rings, interrupting the peaceful moment.

Jon sighs, squeezes Martin’s hand before letting go, and says, “I’ll be right back. Might take it off the hook after this call.”

“Won’t say no to that,” Martin agrees as he closes things up and stacks them together.

-

“Jonathan Sims.”

“Jon! So glad to finally speak with you. This is Jackson, Martin’s boss?”

“Ah, yes, he’s mentioned you.”

“Sorry for disturbing your evening, but Martin’s listed you as his emergency contact. He left work suddenly today looking very distressed and hasn’t been answering his cellphone. Is he all right?”

“Yes, yes he’s fine now. He’s with me.”

“Good,” Jackson breathes with relief. “Could you let him know there’s no rush to get back? If he needs a break or if he’d rather work there, that’s no problem.”

Jon nods unseen and says, “I’ll pass the message along.”

“Thank you, Jon. Have a good night.”

“Yes, good night.”

[nat-20s]

fill of @jonmartinweek day 6 prompt- flirting AND jealousy, though much heavier on the jealousy than the flirting. Set in a classic “season 5 jmart time travel bac to season 1″ au

~*~

“Mr. Blackwood-Sims, if I didn’t know any better, I would assume you’re trying to proposition me.”

“Mr. Sims-Blackwood, I would never. For one, neither of us are inclined towards those sorts of activities, for second, we’re both married men. What would my husband say?”

“I believe your husband would say he never specified exactly what you were propositioning, and he would be more than amenable to kissing, preferably sometime in the next few seconds.”

“Mmm, suppose I’ll have to find him and take him up on that, then. If that’s really how he feels.”

“Trust me, it most certainly is.”

Christ, would those two shut up already? Granted, it’s late enough that they probably think they’re alone in the archives, but, still. This is, technically, a work place, and Jon would’ve preferred not to have accidentally gotten an eyeful as he made his way past the open door in the breakroom. Now, the image of (supposedly) a future version of himself sitting on the couch, with (supposedly) a future version of Martin straddling his legs, using one hand to cup his face, and the other to run his hands through that Jon’s longer hair, was seared into his mind, and he hated it. Look, contrary to what people who don’t know him very well seemed to believe, he’s hardly a prude. He’s more than fine with descriptions of physical intimacy, as well as public displays of affection. If he’s being honest with himself, deep down, he doesn’t even care all that much about professionalism, especially considering it is after hours.

But of course, he’s not being honest with himself, because then he’d have to admit that it bothers him that it’s them. He doesn’t know what to call the acrid burning in the pit of his stomach, the too tight ache in his chest, that’s present whenever the fun house mirror versions of himself and Martin are besotted with each other, but he knows it’s there. It doesn’t help that he’s the only one that seems to be bothered by it, the only one that frowns at the flash of wedding rings or the orbit those two always seem to occupy around each other.

Or, no, he’s not the only one. Occasionally, while witnessing the two of them being...the Two of Them, he can’t help glancing over to Martin. Lo and behold, Martin also doesn’t look thrilled about all of this, usually skewing more towards confusion or, oddly enough, resignation. At least, that’s what Jon thinks he sees there, it’s one of the few times where he can’t fully get a read on Martin.

Still, as much as Martin might share in being somewhat perturbed, as anyone who meets their “future selves” should be, Martin doesn’t seem nearly as upset as Jon is. That brings him back to his current predicament of feeling that level of upset, but not being able to determine the root cause of it.

It is not that he’s jealous. It’s not! He does not feel a pang of envy at seeing someone who looks extremely similar to himself loving openly, and being openly loved in return. He doesn’t find his thoughts drifting to the imagined feeling of lips pressed to his temple or arms around his waist or fingers running through his hair. He certainly hasn’t looked down at his left hand and been disappointed by the fact that its bare. He doesn’t even want those things, as he’s been telling himself for a number of many lonely years. One of these days he might even believe it.

Fine. Fine. Maybe, but only maybe, there’s a part of him that’s jealous. Maybe there’s even a part of him that despairs, because try as he might he can’t connect point A to point B, can’t see the steps he would have to take to be like that other version of himself, and he knows his Martin (well, not his Martin, but..) will never look at him like that, will never see him in that light. And, damn it all, it hurts, so if they could kindly stop ru-

Oh. Wait. He can’t hear them outside his office door anymore. Huh, perhaps they-

“Knock knock.”

Startled out of his...contemplation, Jon looks up to find himself looking back. Sims is leaning against the door-frame, with mussed hair, swollen lips, and pupils blown wide. Jon loathes him and wishes to be him in equal measure. In a move he usually would’ve thought more characteristic of Tim, Sims doesn’t wait for a response, instead sitting himself across from Jon and saying, “Figured you’d still be here.”

Trying not to sound too much like he’s speaking through gritted teeth, Jon asks, “Did you now?”

Sims gives a lackadaisical shrug. “With any luck, you’re not going to become me. I not sure you can become me, at this point, diverging paths and all that. However, we do share the first 28 years of our lives, and I certainly didn’t believe in the concept of a work life balance, so why would you?”

“Is there something you wanted?”

“Yes, actually. I want you to ask out Martin, your moping is getting insufferable, and considering how much of our misery has been entirely outside of our control, you shouldn’t put up with what is in your power to fix.”

Jon blinks. Jon processes. Jon stammers. “I-what?! I am not, you can’t just-. Martin doesn’t even like me, and if you really were the same person as me, you know I’m not all that keen on him either.”

“Uh-huh. Is that why you can’t stop thinking about his hands?”

“I do no-”

Sims puts a hand up in surrender, though the smirk doesn’t entirely drop. “Sorry, sorry, I know that’s rather unhelpful. What I mean is, you’re already loved, right now, as you are. No, that love is not coming from Martin, but it could be,t because he doesn’t dislike you.  He doesn’t know you, because you have done everything in your power to make sure he doesn’t. You also don’t know him, even though you’re interested in him, because you’ve been trying not to be. It’s stupid. Get to know each other. It’ll probably work out.”

“I...is that how you did it? Because this seems like an objectively terrible idea.”

Sims snorts. “God, no. It took a coma before I was able to untangle my own feelings. The whole point is that you won’t have to take the same looping, painful path that I did.”

Jon wants to reject it outright, almost does, and yet. “Fine.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really. Why?’

“Nothing, just. We’re usually a more stubborn on these sorts of things. I was expecting more of a fight.”

“Mm. Normally, I would be, but I’ve been forced to watch two rather obvious proof of concepts waltzing around in front of me, and agreeing will hopefully get you the hell out of my office.”

Sims studies him for a moment, then a surprised smile spreads on his face. “All right then.”

Jon makes a dismissive hand wave, and Sims obliges, and he spends the rest of the night trying not to think about what he’s agreed to.

~*~

The next day, about half an hour before the end of the work day, Jon calls Martin into his office. From his tight shoulders and carefully blank expression, it’s clear Martin very much does not want to be there. Great. This is going to go so well.

Jon gestures for him to sit, Martin does, and he dives in. “As we both now know, I don’t have the ability to fire you. In all reality, even though I am, on paper, your boss, I truly don’t have any power or authority over you.”

Martin leans back in his seat, letting a heavy pause fall between them before saying a stilted, “Okay?”

“So, I want you to know that I am about to ask you a question, and you have complete freedom and choice over your response, without fear of any negative consequences. Alright?”

“Um. Sure.”

Jon takes a breath, slowly lets it out, and bites the bullet. “Would you like to get dinner sometime?”

Martin stares. Then he squints. Then he studies. “Oh. Jon, you...we’re not them, you know that, right?”

“I’m aware.”

“So..why?”

Jon lets out a sigh, and tries to gather his thoughts in a way that makes sense to either of them. “Well, though I myself have some trouble with the concept, they’re not..entirely removed from who we are, and there’s enough foundation there that I have reason to believe we might...get on? Maybe we don’t, maybe we end up being friends, maybe we end up like them. That’s already enough to pique my own curiosity, but, alternate future versions of us aside, I mostly would just like to get to know more about you, and I’m hoping you might like to get to know me better as well.”

Martin’s shoulders relax, and he chews on his bottom lip for a moment before replying, “Okay. Yeah, why not?”

“Oh. Oh! Great! Does this Saturday work for you?”

“Works perfectly. Let’s give a shot.”

The first date is..fine. A Bit of a mess, but fine. The second date, however, is the best Jon’s ever been on. It’s so wonderful, in fact, that he doesn’t even mind when he catches Blackwood passing a fiver to Sims the day he can’t stop smiling at work.

[shelobussy]

ASH’S TMA HURT/COMFORT/FLUFF REC LIST 

For the gays. (And @damcrows who’s been dead for the past 24 hours. Rest in peace babe. Read some gay fic. Deny the inevitability of canon. <3)

___

the end, but the start (of all things that are left to do)  by @ajkal2

Jon wakes up.

aka. mag200 tore out my heart

(Very smol, very short, very spoiler. Def recommend for anyone who just finished the podcast.)

remind me how to smile by @tamerofdarkstars

Jon is probably fine, just hiding out somewhere while the whole murder thing blows over and that's... fine. Martin is fine with that explanation. Really. He's got plenty to distract himself - like listening through the entire What the Ghost episode library, for example. Or watching Georgie Barker's Instagram livestreams.

(Yea this was in the last rec list, but you don’t understand THE ADMIRAL GIVES CUDDLES)

Chamomile by Dribbledscribbles

Whatever the ex-tea was, if it really had ever been that last bag of chamomile Martin claimed he’d found tucked in the back of the cupboard, it was fast now.

Martin had tried catching it, chasing it, blocking its way with shoebox lids and plates and an upended footstool, but the thing was just too quick. Jon knew as well as Knew that he might have left off the attempts completely if not for the creature’s preferred game.

The game was, See How Many Times I Can Push Martin Towards Cardiac Arrest Before He Comes at Me with The Broom.

(Scottish Honeymoon Era. Adorable and weird. A vampire gets harassed.)

hey stranger by @ennuijpg

It’s a late night Tesco run, how eventful could it be? It’s not like Martin is going to run into his boss who’s wearing something absurdly different from usual and get the most acute form of whiplash possible from seeing him, right?

(Martin runs into Jon at the grocery store and has an existential crisis.)

roses roses, roses. by @judesstfrancis

Rose scented laundry detergent. Running into Jon in the breakroom. Running into Jon on his way back to his desk. Rose scented detergent. Running into Jon. Roses. Jon. Roses, roses, roses. 

(Canon enemies to friends to lovers au-ish. Martin POV. Very pining much sweet.)

go softly by doomcountry

And there is nothing else besides this. 

(More hurt/comfort than fluff. Scottish Honeymoon Era. Mild eye mutilation.)

Not Alone by @backofthebookshelf

After the coffin, Daisy and Jon are both fragile. They hold each other up. 

(Post-buried Jon&Daisy starter pack. Very hurt/comfort.)

trust my love by antlsepticeye

“you… you’re real, aren’t you?” jon whispers, the fog slowly dissipating from his mind. “it is not a trick?”

“i’m here,” martin says softly, reaching up to grab jon’s hand that was resting on his cheek, intertwining his fingers with jon’s and squeezing. he moves jon’s hand to martin’s chest, resting it over his heart. “you’re alright. i’m alright. take your time, love. let’s just take some deep breaths, okay?”

(TOUCHSTARVED JON HAS ENTERED THE CHAT.)

reaching out by Athina_Blaine

By the time things settled, when Martin had finally managed to crack through his cold shell, feel some of his old self returning to him in bits and pieces, they had found their little routine.

One that had the two of them sleeping in the same bed, making breakfast, going to the mart. Where Jon reached for his wrist while they slept, and Martin luxuriated in the gentle warmth of his fingers.  

But not one where Martin reached back. One that had Martin kissing Jon awake or taking his hand over the breakfast table, because ... Martin never had the courage to try. And then it never became a part of the routine.

And Martin desperately wanted it to be.

-

Martin and Jon have an important conversation.

(More Scottish Honeymoon Era for the soul. Hurt/comfort/fluff.)

Belabor by @janekfan​

Jon's given the position of Archivist and is falling apart at the seams. Tim and Sasha are upset and playing games. Elias is overbearing and manipulative.

And poor Martin is stuck cleaning up the mess.

(THEE first fic I ever read for tma. Season 1, hurt/comfort/fluff, and hints of Jmartin. janekfan is the absolute master of seasons 1-3 hurt/comfort. This is my favorite, but pls check out the rest of their fics.)

tea, blankets, and a damnable stubborn attitude by ivelostmyspectacles

“Are you really gonna stay here and pester Jon all evening?”

“I’m not pestering him,” Martin retorted, sounding vehement if not busy going through the cupboards. “I’m heating up soup.”

“Oh, you might as well make him another cup of tea while you’re at it.”

“Oh, good idea.”

Jon shot Tim a withering look.

(The one where Jon is ill, Martin makes tea and they watch doctor who together. Fluff 1000%.)

A Kind Hand by @voiceless-terror

Jonathan Sims was adjusting just fine, thank you very much.

In which a minor workplace spill causes Jon to realize that he might have friends.

(Ah yes, the other master of seasons 1-3 fic aka voiceless-terror being my other fav author in the fandom. This one is also season 1 hurt/comfort/fluff.)

A Weather In The Flesh by @cuttoothed

"There is a span of years where Jon doesn’t touch anyone other than the occasional hand shake. It’s not so bad. He’s never been someone who’s needed physical affection."

*

Jon has never been any good at making people want to stick around.

(More touched starved Jon! Much hurt/comfort!)

Something Old, Something New by @cirrus-grey

Months have passed, and everyone is doing better than they were. Daisy and Basira are getting married, Melanie is feeling her old self, Georgie is as much herself as she has ever been, and even Jon has stabilized on his wild fall away from humanity. Everyone is doing better.

Well. Almost everyone.

(Daisy/Barsira wedding! Melanie is a bitch and we love her! Jmartin dance! Post-canon (almost) everyone lives!)

The Weight of Love by @voiceless-terror

Jon is a restless sleeper. Martin attempts to adjust. 

(The fic where Jon is literally me and Martin attempts to sleep for 1k words.)

The Art of Conversation by @voiceless-terror

"Do you ever stop talking?"

Jon has a complicated relationship with words. Difficulties come and go.

(Jon has adhd and Martin is in love.)

Novelty by @backofthebookshelf

Jon experiences A Sexual Attraction; Martin has A Concern. They figure it out.

(Any fic that explores the ace spectrum is a 10/10. We stan all ace interpretations of jon on this blog.)

Half a Hug by Dathen

I know you weren’t going to hurt me, I trust you, he said again and again. And then a different kind of fear shone through, hollow and echoing: “Please don’t stop touching me."

-

Or: Life is hard when you're touch-starved but have trauma related to your closest friend.  Spoilers through TMA 132.

(Honestly bless every author who saw jon&daisy and was like. They’re siblings. No I will not elaborate.)

the loneliness never left me (but i can put it down in the pleasure of your company) by Athina_Blaine

It was about Martin making Jon feel safe, treasured, and loved. And it had been so, so long since anyone made him feel that way.

And, in the face of it all, Jon was starting to flounder.

(At this point I just need to make separate rec list for Scottish Honeymoon Era.)

you can watch me corrode by scarletfish

"So, how long have you been pulling this shit then?"

"I… excuse me?" Jon’s indignant, certain she can’t mean what he thinks she means.

"When was the last time you ate?"

(Georgie decides Jon and Melanie need a normal day off. Jon learns that he and Melanie have more in common than he thought.)

(Look, Melanie isn’t my favorite person in tma, but she and Jon are like THE SAME PERSON and I adore fics that elaborate on their relationship.)

Out of the Wind, In From the Cold by @ostentenacity

There are two bedrooms in the safehouse, and two beds.

For a moment, Jon considers asking to share, but decides against it with a wince. “I really loved you,” Martin had told him. Loved. Past tense. And Martin doesn’t exactly have a lot of choices right now in terms of company; it would be cruel to demand he play at feelings he no longer has just to make Jon happy.

(For a moment, Martin considers asking to share. But he dismisses the idea with a shake of his head. Jon has already done so much for him. Martin isn’t about to ask for more, especially not when it’s something he doesn’t really need. He has his right mind back, and he has Jon’s friendship. That should be enough for him. It’ll have to be.)

---

Jon thinks that Martin doesn’t love him. Martin thinks that Jon doesn’t love him. They do not, of course, discuss this. Unrequited love is already awkward enough, right? No need to dwell on it.

(THEE SCOTTISH HONEYMOON ERA FIC. IT’S ABOUT THE PINING, BEING MUTUALLY OBLIVIOUS AND FALLING IN LOVE. 10000/10.) 

I Do by @voiceless-terror

“I, um- this was supposed to be a lot more romantic, I swear.” Martin looks down at the dirty bar floor. “I had it all planned out, I-I was going to take you somewhere nice, and then we’d go for a walk in the square- I’ll still do it!” He hurries to explain, as if that’s the most pressing part of this situation. “It’ll be really nice, I’ve already hired a photographer-”

In a fit of protectiveness, Martin proposes to Jon.

(Everyone lives, Martin accidentally proposes and Jon is crying in public.) 

________

[thekisforkeats]

Ooh jm + shy kiss for the prompts?

Ohhh good one! I had to think about this a little and actually wrote up a bunch that didn't quite work at first. But! Here it is!

Set somewhere in the first few minutes of 160, in those weeks between arriving at the safehouse and Hazel Rutter. Featuring autistic Martin trying to navigate social situations because that is evidently what I write now.

(Incidentally the term "weak ties" was coined by a Stanford researcher in 1973. Link to the relevant paper. Credit where due, and all.)

(No beta no edits we die like archive assistants.)

.

.

.

It takes Martin a week to convince Jon to come down into the village with him.

If he's being honest with himself--and he's trying very hard to be honest with himself these days, so he can identify any Lonely-type thoughts--he really just wants to show off his boyfriend to the nice lady at the little shop in the village where he's been picking up essentials.

Martin is a naturally friendly person, or maybe a naturally personable person. This was not always the case; he had to practice a great deal to memorize all the scripts to smooth social interactions that other people seem to navigate without thinking about it at all. It can be horribly exhausting, just going to the shops. It's one of the reasons the Lonely appealed to him; how much easier to just move through life without having to recite all those canned lines?

Now that he's out of its grip, he's come to realize how much those interactions matter. He's been reading a lot on the internet about depression and social interaction, about social circles, and one thing that caught his eye is the idea of "weak ties," those people we're not exactly friends with, but who we see on a regular basis and who help us feel connected to a larger community. People who don't really know us and yet know something about us that helps us feel seen. The bus driver who gives you a familiar nod every morning. the barista who's prepping your order as soon as he notices you in line, the shop lady who tries to keep your favorite tea in stock.

So Martin is trying to cultivate those relationships, to feel part of a wider community, rather than just relying on Jon. He thinks that maybe if he'd had more of that, before, if he'd tried harder to go through the world being seen, he might have handled Jon's coma and his mother's death in some kind of healthier manner.

Maybe not, of course, but he's going to use any tool he can to keep the Lonely at bay.

At any rate, even beyond being very good at social scripts, Martin does genuinely like people, he's a good listener, for an autistic guy he's practically a social butterfly. And Elspeth is a nice lady, maybe mid-40's, the kind of person who runs a shop because she actually likes interacting with a stream of customers on a regular basis. So she's just the sort of person for Martin to practice his "weak tie" skills.

Because, naturally, one of the key benefits of "weak ties" is that they are the sort of people you get to be public about your relationship with when none of your closer friends are around.

Yeah, no, all of the above is just flimsy justification, if Martin's being really honest with himself. He's just madly in love and wants literally everyone within a 500-mile radius to know.

That morning, Martin makes a big show of how badly he wants to spend time with Jon, no really, but he really does have to go down into the village.

"We're out of tea!"

"I don't think we have anything for dinner!"

"But I really want to keep listening to you talk about Scottish history!"

And so on.

Jon gives him a tolerantly amused look, and Martin flushes. Is he that transparent, or is Jon just that good at reading him?

"I suppose I can go into the village with you, Martin," he says, eyes glittering. "Since you're so terribly interested in the House of Stuart. I'd hate to leave you wondering what happened to James II."

Martin would feel guilty, but he can tell Jon is pleased to be "indulging" him, and it's not like Martin hasn't been listening to Jon infodump about whatever random facts Beholding's been given him all week.

They hold hands all the way down into the village, and it's nice, to walk through the place and be seen, together. It's comfortable. They'd held hands on walks before, long ago in London, before the Unknowing, but back then they hadn't been sure what they were, hadn't managed to broach the delicate barrier between "friends" and "something else." Now, they're "boyfriends," and Martin keeps finding himself wanting to go up to each person he sees on the street and shout, "This is my boyfriend, Jonathan Sims!!"

By the time they reach Elspeth's shop, he's feeling a little giddy.

He pushes open the door and the little bell rings, and Elspeth looks up from behind the counter and smiles. "Martin!" she says, and Martin's whole body warms in a very pleasant manner, that this woman he's only known a week remembers him. "Oh, and this must be the elusive Jon." She gives them one of those teasing smiles people give to new couples, glittering eyes and amusement at the silly things people do when they're in limerence.

"Yes," Martin says, and suddenly the words stick in his throat. "Yes, this is... is... umm..." Oh, why has he suddenly frozen like a deer in headlights? Why can't he remember the right words?

"Jonathan Sims," Jon says smoothly, stepping forward to offer the woman his hand. "And yes, I'm Martin's boyfriend."

It occurs to Martin, all at once, that neither of them have said that out loud to anyone else. No wonder he's frozen up.

Elspeth glances at the burn scars on Jon's hand only briefly, then smiles--and it's a genuine smile, not one of those pitying ones people sometimes put on when they see scars like that--and shakes said hand. "Pleased to meet you," she replies. "Elspeth Douglas." She has the Highland accent, but softened; she spent her 20's and 30's in London, she's said, and came back to take over the family store when her father fell ill. The similarity might be part of why Martin likes her--that and the fact that it seems that helping her sickened parent improved her life.

"Ahh, yes. The not-so-elusive Elspeth." Jon actually flashes a grin, which Martin finds remarkable. Since when is Jon... friendly? Well, maybe he's trying for Martin's sake. If so, Martin very much appreciates the effort.

The woman behind the counter laughs, and says, "How can I help you?"

"Oh," Martin manages, his brain catching up and letting his mouth work again, "we're just here for tea and things."

"Of course," Elspeth says. "I'll be here when you're ready."

They turn away, to go deeper into the aisles.

"She seems nice," Jon says almost absently. "Shame about her fa--" He pauses, and frowns. Shakes his head, looking irritated. "You didn't tell me about that," he grumbles.

"No, I didn't. But thank you for trying to keep it in," Martin says.

Jon sighs, lowering his voice. "It's becoming harder and harder to separate what I've learned on my own from what Beholding gives me. How much of my thoughts are mine anymore? Did I actually memorize all those facts about the House of Stuart, or am I getting the... mental Wikipedia page, as it were?"

"Seems like a thing you'd know," Martin comments offhandedly. He's focused on figuring out what kind of rice to buy. He wants to try his hand at sticky rice, which really should have calrose, but Jon likes jasmine rice. Do they get both?

He doesn't want to think about Beholding, and how much of it is Jon anymore. He prefers just thinking about it as something like a smartphone app Jon can use without having to actually have a phone in front of him. He does not want to think about how much of his boyfriend has been potentially consumed by some kind of eldritch thing that feeds on fear.

He really doesn't want to think about the idea that maybe soon, Jon won't even need rice anymore, and will just live off statements, no matter how much he jokes about his partner's "eating habits."

Jon has been talking as Martin's been staring at the rice, but Martin hasn't heard any of it. He's brought back to himself by a squeeze of Jon's hand in his.

"Hey," Jon says softly. "You okay?"

In Jon's voice, Martin hears all the concern that Martin himself has been feeling. He forces himself to look at Jon, and sees bright green eyes staring out of a deep brown face. He realizes he's gotten used to the color of Jon's eyes; before the coma, Jon's eyes were brown, like a deep carnelian, and so large and dark sometimes Martin thought he could fall right into them and be happy drowning there. Now they're green, bright and disarming, and Martin's pretty sure this is why Jon still wears glasses he no longer needs, to hide those strange eyes behind plastic lenses.

Those eyes are looking up at him intensely now, and Jon's brow is furrowed, and his mouth is pulled into a frown in a way that highlights one of the worm scars near his lip, and all of it is adorable, but it's also disconcerting for the contrast between the softness of his voice and the intensity of his expression.

Is Jon as afraid of losing Martin to Forsaken as Martin is of losing Jon to Beholding?

Martin frowns at him for a moment, then sighs. "I just..." He has to look away, back to the bags of rice. "I just... don't like thinking about that. Beholding, and... all of it. I just... I just wish..."

"You wish we could be normal." Jon's tone is still soft, and filled only with love and no sort of guilt or self-recrimination.

"Yeah," Martin says, still staring at the rice.

There's a hesitation, and then Jon says, softly and slowly, "You know... normal people deal with these sort of difficult things, too. There's so much out there that can hurt people... the things we deal with, they're weirder than most of the rest of it, but..."

"Yeah, I know, Jon, I just..." Martin hunches his shoulders. "Don't want to lose you again," he finally mumbles.

Jon hesitates a moment, and then he leans in to give Martin a soft kiss on the cheek.

Martin flushes bright red--Elspeth's right there!--and turns to stare at Jon. "W-what... what was... that for?!"

Jon, too, is blushing. "I just... ah... I just... wanted you to know that... that I'm... here. You haven't... lost me. Or anything."

"Oh," Martin says. "Well. Thank you."

There's a moment where they just look at each other, and then Jon blurts, "...Can I kiss you again? It's just, I haven't all morning, and I really sort of wanted to spend the morning cuddling, but you wanted to come down to the shops..."

"Here?!" Martin stares at him.

"We can go behind the shelves if you like," Jon says, blushing furiously.

For some reason, this makes Martin giggle, and then he leans down to brush his lips to Jon's. Softly, shyly, as if they haven't been kissing each other all week, because he really is terribly aware of the fact that there are other people around.

"Tell you what," Martin says as he pulls back, surprisingly breathless despite how short the contact of their lips was, "let's finish up the shopping and then we can cuddle all afternoon."

Jon smiles up at him. "Promise?" The smile widens. "You're not going to drag me around to introduce me to every villager individually?"

"I was not--!" Martin glares at him, but now Jon's smile has become one of those shit-eating grins he gets sometimes, and Martin can't stay mad at him at all.

"You knew," he accuses, but there's no heat in it.

"I had a hunch," Jon says, humming. "I didn't want to spoil your fun, though."

Martin rolls his eyes, and then reaches out to take Jon's hand again. "Well, then, we'd better get to it. Jasmine or calrose? Rice, I mean."

"Both, I think," Jon says. "I find myself very much desiring normality of late, and rice is a terribly normal sort of thing."

[andreafmn]

I'm Not Afraid - Chapter 5

xWord Count: 3,374

Characters: Female Reader Argent Character, Original Male Argent Character, Derek Hale, Allison Argent, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, Chris Argent, Jackson Whittemore

Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father’s sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin’s, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Teen Wolf, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Jeff Davis and MTV Network. The only thing I own is Argent Reader insert, her immediate family, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ storyline.

Chapter: 5/?

A/N: If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

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Chapter 5

I woke up to a heavy and warm wight around my waist. As my mind started registering the scene around me, I noticed the soft snores that were filling the room, the strong smell of cologne, the rough skin encircling me, the chest in front of me that raised and fell at a slow pace. At some point during the night, Derek must have crawled into bed, and I couldn’t say that I minded.

He looked peaceful when he slept. No supernatural problems, no feuds, no hunters, just peace. My hand unconsciously landed on his cheek, softly stroking his cheek. Still succumbed to slumber, he leaned into the touch, nuzzling his head onto my hand like a puppy. I wish this could be the way it always was, but now that I knew the reality of the world we were in, there was no chance it would ever stay this way.

Deciding to let him sleep longer, I tiptoed down the stairs to the kitchen where breakfast had already been prepared. I looked around and noticed that their car keys were gone, which meant they had left early in the morning to do whatever it was that they always did. I greeted Brody who had trotted my way from the living room, and filled his dog bowl, adding a few tasty treats. While I served two plates, I put the coffee machine to run, ensuring the freshest pot for the morning. I looked around for a tray to take the breakfast upstairs in case my parents came back at any moment, eating my food as the coffee brewed. Placing some cream and sugars on the tray, I made my way back to the bedroom where Derek was starting to wake up, Brody following behind.

“Morning, sour wolf.” I softly pushed open the door, the tray in front of me. Derek was rubbing the night from his eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips. Upon seeing the man, Brody jumped on the bed greeting him with slobbery kissed. Derek laughed and petted his head as he laid at the foot of the bed.

“Morning,” he yawned. “Whatcha got there?”

“Some eggs, bacon, and hash browns. Also, some coffee.” He took the tray from my hands and set it on the bed. Taking one of the coffee cups, I sat over on my desk to work on the homework I had left pile during the week. Derek grabbed the plate and came to stand behind me, leaning down to rest his chin on my shoulder.”

“What are you doing?” He inquired, downing the food from the plate quickly.

“Homework. You know, the thing people my age have to do to be able to graduate from high school with good grades.” I looked to the side, my heart beating faster noticing the closeness of our faces. “I’m sure you wouldn’t know much about that.”

“I’ll have you know I was a good enough student.”

“Emphasis on good enough.” I booped his nose with my pen and continued my work. “When you’re done you should head home, don’t want my parents catching you here just in case.”

“Why? We’re not doing anything.” He sipped his coffee and sat down on the bed, Brody laying his head on his lap. I turned my chair and faced him, a laugh escaping my lips.

“I think you’re forgetting who you are and who my family is. Apart from that, I don’t think my dad will particularly enjoy the fact that a 21-year-old werewolf is in his teenage daughter’s bedroom, alone.” I grinned. “But suit yourself. I’d love to see how it will play out.”

“Alright, but can I at least take you out some time this week?” My heartbeat quickened, the sound loud enough for me to hear. “Is that a yes?”

“It’s not a no,” I grinned.

“I kind of need an answer,” he pressed. A grin played on his lips by the point he had stood and rested his hands on the arms of the chair.

“How about, I’ll let you know?”

“I’ll take it,” he smiled. “I’ll text you.”

“Alright, I’ll be waiting.” He kissed my cheek and grabbed his jacket to head towards the door. “Where are you going?”

“Home?”

“Not through the door you’re not.” The dumbfounded look on his face was hilarious. “what would I do if my parents walked in.”

“I’m fast, you know. Like supernaturally fast.”

“Mm, I’ve seen you. Not fast enough.”

“Fine,” he surrendered. “Keep watch of your phone.”

“I will,” I smiled. He took a step back and in the blink of an eye, he was gone. Brody got alerted by the sudden move and jumped off the bed to bark at the window, standing on his hind legs to prop his eye out. I joined his side and saw Derek standing normally in my backyard as if he hadn’t just jumped out of a two-story window. He waved and I waved back as he became a blur, vanishing before my very eyes.

I slumped down on my bed and ran my hands over my face. What was I doing? There were so many things that were pit against us. My 18th birthday was still a little less than a year away, he had something going on with Erica, my family and he are natural-born enemies, we are currently under the terror of a reptilian shapeshifting Jackson, and that was just scratching the surface. I couldn’t scrutinize why he would ask me out too much, it was probably not even in a romantic way. It could just well be that he wanted to keep an eye on me since I was new to this whole werewolf, Kanima, hunter thing.

A couple of hours went by where I took Brody out for a walk, finished what was left of my homework, and started watching a movie when my phone went off.

“Hey, I heard the good news! You’re staying in town.”

“Hey, Allison. Yeah, it looks that way.”

“Well then, I believe you owe some people an apology.”

“What could you possibly mean?” I scoffed. But she was right, as hard as it was to admit.

“Don’t act dumb, (Y/N). You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t like it when you’re right,” I sighed. “What do you think I should do?”

“I could invite them over to your house and you could apologize to them. They never object to free pizza.”

I was glad. Instead of sulking on the 'he likes me, he likes me not' nonsense, I prepared the house for Allison and her friends, the people I hope to win over. One by one they arrived at my doorstep. Scott, Stiles, Lydia, and Allison. I had put out some snacks and the pizza I had bought. Scott and Stiles were not shy about their hunger as they dove in right away.

"So, what's the purpose of this meeting?" Lydia asked, her usual cocky attitude on full show.

"Uh, well, I wanted to apologize for being such a bitch these past few weeks."

"Hm, understatement of the century." Stiles chuckled with his mouth full.

"Actually, she can be 1,000 times worse. That was just level 1 bitchiness."

"Point taken. But why would you apologize? We get it you don't want to be our friend."

"That's not it, it's just... ugh... Look, it’s honestly a very long story, but moving around it’s hard to cut ties and start over for so long. After a while it’s easier to builds walls up and maintain everyone at arm’s length." They all stared at me. Hopefully I was getting through to them. "But this time I'm changing that. I want to be your friend and that's why I'm apologizing."

"Well, I don't know about the other guys, but I've always considered you my friend. I mean, I've considered Lydia my friend and she hates me."

"Oh, please, Stiles. I don't hate you, you're just, um.... special."

"I'll take it."

"We understand. And of course you're our friend, (Y/N). You were just too stubborn to notice." Scott smiled at me. "Now, is there more pizza?"

"How the hell did you two boys just finish two boxes of pizza?"

"We're growing?" Stiles said with his mouth full.

"Barely," Allison mumbled.

"You know I can hear you, right?"

"That's the point, Scott."

The whole room laughed and continued to enjoy a very pleasant afternoon. It felt weird to finally feel like I belonged somewhere; that there were people around me that cared for me despite my flaws. As I looked around the faces of the group that had welcomed me with open arms, I couldn’t help but feel that someone was missing; the person that had first accepted me.

The clock had hit 4 o’clock when the last piece of food was gone, and the gang had gone home. After cleaning up, I decided it was time to call Isaac. I didn’t like the person he had become after the bite. But I couldn’t say I didn’t understand. He felt confident, strong, but he was using the wrong outlet. Just like I was.

“So, you’re finally talking to me,” Isaac chuckled, a cocky tone to his voice.

“Only if you’re done being a douche.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ever since you turned into a werewolf you’ve been nothing short of unbearable with your cocky behavior and holier-than-thou attitude.” I could hear him shifting on the other line, the news taking him aback. It seems Derek hadn’t told his pack that I knew everything.

“H-how… who told you?”

“Derek, your alpha. He told me everything the other day. I know all about werewolves, kanimas, hunters, pack, blah, blah, blah. But none of that excuses your behavior,’’ I sighed. “So, are you done being a dick?”

“Maybe,” he chuckled. “Can I see you?”

“Sure. Why don’t we go grab a bite? I’ll pick you up.”

“Alright!” He sounded excited. “I’ll text you the address.”

After hanging up I decided to take a quick shower before leaving. I threw on a white t-shirt and jeans and paired them with my leather jacket. As I tied my boots, I reached for the keys of my dad’s Chevrolet Suburban. Hopefully, I didn’t crash. In the car, I typed in the address Isaac had sent me. It was an industrial loft not too far from my own home. I honked my horn to notify Isaac I was there as well as sent a text.

“Are you stalking me now?”

I jumped at the sound of Derek’s voice and the knock he left on my window. . He appeared like a ghost and leaned on my door. “I could say the same about you. I’ve never been here before.”

“I live here,” he laughed, pointing at the building. “It’s my loft.”

“I’m here to pick up Isaac,” I said sheepishly. “So, he’s been staying with you. I thought you live in the woods.”

“It’s my family’s house and it’s under my ownership, but it’s not under livable conditions. And, yes, Isaac has been staying with me.”

“Hey, Derek.” Isaac finally emerged from the doors and jogged up to my car, patting Derek on the back. The man’s expression rapidly changed as soon as Isaac joined the conversation. The playful smile he wore had been replaced by a menacing scowl. “We’re going out for a while. I’ll see you later.”

We said goodbye and as I drove off, I stared at Derek. His body was tense, and his jaw was clenched. He was angry, but I didn’t know why. When we were alone, he was a completely different person than what he showed to others. There was this terrifying façade that was impenetrable by everyone else, yet he was a completely different person with me; he was an Alpha to the others, but he was just Derek to me.

I parked the car at a small burger joint Isaac directed me to. It wasn’t too full, so our food came out quickly. We sat at a table in the back, far from any prying ears.

“So, what did you mean about this cocky attitude?” He popped a french fry into his mouth, playing around with his food. “You seemed quite mad about it. Mad enough that you avoided me for some time.”

“Ever since you transformed you’ve been carrying yourself like you’re above everyone, you don’t even bother to be respectful of teachers or anyone for that matter. I miss the old Isaac.”

“You mean the pushover wimpy kid?” He scoffed. “I can’t say the same.”

“That’s not what I meant.” My hand reached out to his clenched fist and his hold softened. “You were nice and respectful, and knew how to treat others because you knew how it felt to be mistreated. Of course, you could have done with more confidence, but that’s not what this is. It’s almost as if you’re turning into Jackson, heaven forbid.”

His eyes softened and I knew I was getting through the wall he had built up.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N). It's just… this is the first time in my life that I have felt powerful, like nothing and no one can touch me. I've dealt with so much shit that I thought I deserved to act like that," he sighed. "Can you ever forgive me?"

“You’re practically my best friend, how could I not?”

“Thanks.” He gave me a smile that I happily reciprocated. For the first time in a while, I was seeing the Isaac I had met some time ago. “So, what is it that you needed to speak to me so eagerly.”

“Remember how I mentioned that I would be moving at the end of the year so you shouldn’t get attached?” He nodded. “Well, it seems you’re gonna have to put up with me for a long time. Beacon Hills is now my home.”

“What?! That’s great!” He exclaimed a little too loud. Heads turned towards us and Isaac tried to hide his blush. “Does that mean we can truly be friends now? Not just study partners or casual conversation acquaintances?”

“Yes, Isaac. That’s exactly what that means,” I laughed. His face had lit up as the hard mask he wore finally broke apart. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you, what happened the night that I picked you up? It was such a weird night.”

His whole demeanor changed, clearly a sore subject to talk about. "If Derek told you what we are I presume he told you about everything else." I nodded. "The Kanima. It killed my father. We, um, had gotten into a fight and I ran out. It seems he went out looking for me but didn't get to me. I found him dead in his car, but I ran and called you."

" Isaac, why didn't you tell me? I mean, I know why you didn't tell me, but something; you should have told me something.” I looked into his eyes, worry evident in them. He had gone through such a traumatic event basically by himself. “Is that why the police were looking for you?"

He nodded. "They thought I had something to do with his murder because of something Jackson said. He was unfortunately my neighbor and had seen me running out of the house, but there were no tracks leading to me. I'm not a fugitive anymore." He smiled softly.

“I’m glad, Isaac, really. And I’m truly sorry for everything you’ve had to endure alone for all these years. You didn’t deserve it.”

“Thanks, (Y/N). At least that part of my life is over.”

“Now we just have to get that damn Kanima and get on with our lives.” We laughed.

Before we knew it, the sky outside had turned dark, signaling the arrival of the night. The car ride back was filled with mindless chitchat and soft background music. It had been a long few days and exhaustion was evident in both of us. Soon enough, the grey building had come into view.

“Do you want to come in for a bit?” Isaac leaned into the open window of the driver’s side.

“I think I’m just gonna head on home. I’m a bit tired and we have school tomorrow.” I smiled. “But, I’ll take you up on the offer someday.”

“Isaac, good to see you’re back,” Derek announced himself, his two betas following behind. “You’re late for training.”

“Sorry, Derek. Time slipped away.”

“Sorry won’t cut it.” His voice was commanding and a bit intimidating. I could see why everyone around me feared him. “Go with Erica and Boyd. Get started.”

'‘Bye, (Y/N). I’ll see you tomorrow.” I smiled and nodded, trying my best to comfort him.

“See you.” Derek stood back as we both watched the three figures disappear into the building. His chest moved, heaving, and he reeked of jealousy. “What’s your problem?”

“What?” Did he truly believe I was that oblivious? “I just…”

“You’re acting like a prissy child, Derek. You knew where Isaac was, who he was with, and that there was a possibility that he would come back late. There’s no need to grill him that hard.”

“He’s old enough to manage his time correctly, (Y/N). He needs to learn discipline. This has nothing to do with you.”

“Clearly, that’s not what’s happening here,’’ I laughed dryly. “Look, pardon the metaphor, but this whole alpha male act is gonna get very tiring, very quickly. If this is how you’re gonna be, don’t bother on scheduling that date this week.”

“Don’t be like that, (Y/N). I swear this has nothing to do with you. There are certain rules that we have to abide by, a different life. It’s complicated.”

“You’re not making any sense, Derek.”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Yesterday we said no secrets, Derek. What changed in the hours that have passed?”

“Nothing’s changed. I’m sorry if I seemed too harsh on Isaac, but I have to be. They’re young and reckless, and it’s my job to make sure they stay safe. No matter the cost.” He ran his hands across his face as he let out a loud sigh. “Why don’t we just keep the supernatural and our personal lives apart.”

“We can try that for a while, but they’re bound to intersect at some point.”

“I know, but…”

“Let’s play it your way and see how it goes, okay? And lay off Isaac and the others? They are just kids.”

“I’ll try,” he smiled softly. “Text me when you get home, okay?”

“If I remember.”

I backed the car up and sped back to my house. When I opened the garage, my father was sitting on the spot where the car usually went. I had forgotten to tell them I would be gone, and my phone’s battery had died a while back. I was in so much trouble.

“Good to know you’re alive, darling daughter.” The sarcasm spewed from my father’s mouth, and it stung.

“I’m so sorry. I went out with a friend and my phone died. And I know I forgot to say I was leaving the house, but I rarely do that, so please forgive me.”

“Calm down, (Y/N),” he laughed. “We just wanted to make sure you were okay. You weren’t answering your phone, so we got worried. But remember, there’s a tracker on the car. We figured you were out. And I’m glad to hear you have a friend. It’s about time.”

“Thanks, dad.” He wrapped me in a hug and patted my head. If he knew who my friends were I’m sure he wouldn’t feel the same way. “But, if you knew where I was, what was this whole scary setup? I for sure thought you were going to kill me.”

“Nothing like that, honey. But your mother and I have something we have to talk to you about.”

“What is it? You can’t take back that we are staying.”

“It’s not that, but it is serious. Let’s go, your mom is waiting in the kitchen.”

My heart was beating at a rapid pace, a million thoughts running through my head. Although, at the bottom of my heart I knew what this talk was going to be about.

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