giotanner · 6 months ago
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After reading Batman 206 #147 and browsing through some online comments, I felt sorry that some thought the story somehow diminished Damian Wayne to highlight Tim Drake.
Speaking as a fan of Tim Drake, I believe he deserves recognition for his merits that have been overlooked for all these years. People reading comics in recent years found Tim useless, and… I get it. It wasn't clear what he was up to; he seemed like an outsider not included in the most important parts of the story. Which… rude, right? With the emergence of Jason and Damian, Tim seemed lost in terms of character development. They brought him back as Robin, but he seemed sidelined, without good writing.
Now, Tim Drake was one of the Robins who
1) chose to be Robin
and
2) uncovered the vigilantes' identities and knew he had to become Robin because Batman needed him as his partner.
It all boils down to this, and the last issue shows how this harmony between Tim and Bruce is crucial. This agreement between a young man who had to work hard because he wasn't a "natural," things didn't come easily to him, yet he persevered.
All of this is to say that I don't understand how this is damaging to Damian Wayne.
Let me explain my point of view: Damian blindly trusts Bruce, his father. And an abused child (by the League) who then grows up in a "healthy" environment (bat-family), where a father loves him… will struggle to find fault even though everyone tells him otherwise.
Sure, Dick is an important figure, and what happened to Jason during Gotham War is a wake-up call. BUT. At the same time, Damian is a fourteen-year-old boy who has finally grown from being that defensive, angry child.
Please, let's acknowledge that his character has had development. And precisely because of this development, he has more trust in Bruce Wayne. HE FEELS SAFE. Sure, he's Robin, and he's a detective, and he's intelligent, but he also trusts his father. And unfortunately, this leads him to make mistakes.
Instead, Tim in canon lies to Batman; he was that kid who wanted evidence first: that's how he discovered Batman, that's how he found out Bruce wasn't dead but lost in time.
It's not bad writing in my opinion. It's not a way to weaken Damian and highlight Tim. No. They are just two different characters who have grown in different ways. So I'm loving how this story is continuing.
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misterghostfrog · 4 years ago
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[IMAGE ID; a digital drawing of Martin Blackwood carrying Jonathan Sims from The Magnus Archives. Martin is a fat freckled white man with curly ginger hair that is shaved close at the sides. He has a pair of round framed glasses in a bright red, under the glasses he is wearing eyeliner, and a navy eyeshadow. He has black lipstick, two black snakebite piercings under his lip, and a small black nostril piercing. His ear has a large black piercing that cuffs a chain to a small black piercing higher up his ear, and one final black piercing in the middle. He has a black choker, and then a looser chain necklace with an eye ornament on it. He has a studded lather jacket on that is covered in multiple patches and pins, mostly hidden by Jon: of the visible pins there is a trans flag patch on his chest, and on his shoulder is a large dark colored patch that has A-C-A-B on it in white. Under the Jacket is a black shirt that he has partly tucked into his pants, the shirt has a large anarchy symbol drawn on it in red. Under that he is wearing jeans that are significantly ripped as far as we can see. On his right hand he has several black rings, and his nails are painted black. Jon is a skinny Jordanian man with brown eyes and shoulder-length grey-streaked dark brown hair pulled back into a messy ponytail at the base of his neck. He has a beard beginning to grow that appears to be the product of forgetting to shave. He is covered in a series of small round scars that vary in exact size. He is wearing a pair of rectangle-framed glasses, a plain t-shirt, a pair of jeans that are ripped at the knee, and converse. Martin is carrying Jon bridal style in his arms, and is looking away, he is blushing, though his expression is concerned and appears to be speaking. Jon has his arms wrapped around Martins neck, his cheeks are darkened and he is staring at hte ground with an expression somewhere between fear and the face one makes when they’re having to retrace every step they’ve taken to get here. END ID]
Punk Martin but make it Jonmartin.
Also I wrote a lil thing to go along with this under the cut, its only barely edited because it was mostly for fun so be warned its a big ol mess! But its s2 jonmartin nonsense with Martin being very cool and attractive and Jon being seven layers deep in denial (Also I may have written Jon as a touch autistic because its projection hours tonight i’m too sleepy to mask and that goes for writing too babey)
(Mentions of worms, past injuries, and Jon dealing with some internalised ableism and general foolishness)
Jon forgot his cane.
It’s a relatively regular occurrence, for a multitude of reasons. For one thing it’s something of a recent addition to the list of things he needs to keep track of when he leaves the house. Another lovely parting gift from Prentiss, a worm in his left leg that went just quick enough to start burrowing into the bone before it was removed. 
For another, he really has other things to worry about. And if it doesn’t hurt, it shouldn’t matter. Most days he can get by just fine without it- it hurts of course. But not so much he can’t support himself, and really, does he need it otherwise?
Martin and Tim don’t seem to agree, though Sasha has kept respectfully to herself on the whole business. Martin, of course, he trusts. Albeit only recently. But that doesn’t make him right, his priorities are warped. Naturally. He doesn’t see the bigger picture.
(or at least that’s what Jon tells himself)
Which is what leads to this moment, sitting on a bench outside the shop, single grocery bag by his feet. He’d only run out to get a few things, but somewhere between the his flat the the shop his barely visible limp had become more pronounced as his hip began to throb, then he was halfway through the frozens when he realized he wasn’t going to be able to finish the trip. After that he’d barely made it through checkout to the nearest seat before all but collapsing into it.
And now he’s sitting, stuck. An insurmountable walk from home, without his stupid cane. Which, he notes, he wouldn’t need if he’d brought in the first place. Funny how that works.
“Jon?” A familiar voice jolts him out of his thoughts. Jon jolts upright. Martin. 
He knows Martin lives in the area, a side effect of his... investigations. Though he was unaware he used the same shop. He looks up, a greeting or perhaps a question on his lips that dies as soon as he actually lays eyes on Martin.
Martin is wearing a leather jacket. Not just a leather jacket of course, but that’s the first thing Jon can process. He’s wearing a studded leather jacket covered in various patches that advertise various opinions and identities that Jon doesn’t have time to think about. His  jeans are about as much rip as they are Jean, and he’s got piercings- and eyeliner. he’s dressed like he should be riding a motorcycle, not the beat-up red bike he’s got beside him.
“Are you alright?” Martin says, and Jon realizes he’s been staring.
“Are you going to a costume party?” Jon blurts instead of answering. A costume party would make sense, of course. Martin doesn’t dress like this, he dresses like- like-
It occurs to him dimly that he’s never encountered Martin outside of work, at least never in a scenario that would allow him to change out of his work clothes. And some part of him has always assumed that sweaters and khakis were simply how he dressed. It suited him, really. Or Jon had assumed, but then again he assumed anything familiar is suiting.
“Wh- A- no?” Martin answers, looking vaguely offended. Jon flushes.
“I- sorry, I just- I’ve... I didn’t think you seemed the type to dress... like that...?” Jon fumbles, pathetically trying to salvage the conversation. Judging by Martins expression, he’s failing.
Martin opens his mouth to say something, and Jon realizes there’s likely no coming back from this particular mortification. He snatches the bag by his feet and moves to stand. Some excuse already tumbling out when the reason for his sit-down, which had dulled to a shockingly forgettable throb, decides to remind him of his place in the world.
He lets out a cry of pain, and crumples. Only stopped from hitting the ground by a pair of arms that wrap around his chest and under his shoulder. 
“Oh my god, Jon. Are you alright- what- is it your leg? Where’s your cane-” Martin babbles, Gently replacing Jon on his bench as Jon breathes through gritted teeth.
“It’s fine- i’m fine Martin I-” he sighs, studiously avoiding Martins gaze. “My cane is at home.” He tries not to sound chastised as he says the last part- he shouldn’t have to after all. He’s still Martins boss. He shouldn’t be looking away like he’s been caught at something.
“Jon” Martin sounds exasperated, and Jon crosses his arms. Once again, nothing like someone being scolded. He’s not being scolded. He’s an adult. “How long have you been sitting here like this?”
“I...” Jon begins before trailing off, he’s not actually sure. The period between sitting on the bench and the pain dulling enough for him to think through the fog is something is a blur. He is pretty sure someone asked if he was alright at some point. His lack of answer seems to be enough for Martin though.
“Just give me a moment.” He says, stepping away from Jon over to his bike- which has fallen over onto the ground -pulling it upright and over to Jon on the bench. He pushes down the rusted kickstand with a hearty kick- and Jon briefly notes he’s wearing steel-toed boots -and sets the bike gently upright.
“Okay, so! If you sit on the bike I can push it, and you can get home and rest that leg without jostling it too much by trying to walk without your cane.” He says pointedly. Jon makes a face,
“This... this really isn’t necessary Martin- I’m perfectly capable-” He grumbles, waving a hand dismissively. But a glance at Martins expression shuts him up quick. 
“Do you think you can stand?” He asks. Jon pauses, the memory of the white-hot flash of pain still fresh in his mind. He grimaces, shaking his head. Martin hums thoughtfully. “Alright, would you be alright if I picked you up? Just for a moment to get you on the bike” He asks carefully.
Jon hesitates, looking between Martin and the bike. And weighs his options. After several seconds he nods. Martin smiles, and Jon feels something in his chest flutter. Anxiety at his decision most likely. Or perhaps nerves in relation to sitting on a bike, he’s never ridden one- of course Martin will be doing all the work but surely there’s some sort of balance required isn’t there? Really he shouldn’t be riding a bike like this-
Those thoughts are all swept away at the feeling of large warm hands gently scooping him off the bench. He instinctively throws his arms around Martins neck for support as he’s lifted into the air. 
He can feel Martins chest warm against his side as Martin holds him close, one hand on his shoulder and the other supporting his legs. He’s being cradled by his subordinate, carefully as so not to jostle his leg. And all he can think about is how warm Martin is. He’s large and soft despite all the sharper accessories and he smells a bit like leather and tea on top of whatever soap he uses. Probably something that Jon wouldn’t be able to name with a gun to his head. And Jon can see the freckles on Martins cheeks and neck close enough to count if he wanted to even as he looks away, saying something Jon can’t quite parse because he’s too busy reeling from the realization he’d be happy to sit in Martins arms like this for the rest of his life.
His face goes hot and he forces himself to look down at the ground. The pain is clearly messing with his head, or perhaps the sleep deprivation. Or perhaps he’s still riding the high from that moment of realization that Martin isn’t trying to kill him, that he can trust him. 
Either way he’s not thinking straight, which is why he’s dissapointed instead of relieved when Martin gently places him on the bike with the exact amount of care he took in picking him up. Which shouldn’t make him feel so oddly jittery but it does.
The ride is quiet, aside from awkward instructions from Jon on where to turn as Martin guides them carefully along the sidewalk. They miss a turn once because Jons too preoccupied with the feeling of Martins arm bumping against his shoulder as he guides the bike.
And then they’re at Jons flat, and Jon once again feels that misplaced disappointment. He wonders if perhaps Martin will carry him up to his flat, and his face burns again as the silliness of the thought hits him.
Martin does very, very briefly lift him to help him off the bike when he stumbles. But his leg has recovered enough that he can make it up to his flat without assistance, or so he tells Martin. Who looks unconvinced.
“Let me at least walk with you, yea? That way I know for sure you got home safe.” He insists, and Jon forced himself to be displeased with the situation.
It ends up being a good thing Martin came along though, a partway up the steps the railing is no longer enough to support Jon, and he ends up half-carried the rest of the way. Martins arm under his shoulder, his own loops around Martins back, gripping the jacket for support. He can feel his head drifting at the contact- Martin is just so damned warm and safe and Martin it’s impossible not to get distacted.
He forces himself to think about something else, anything else. The jacket- he can feel the leather under his fingertips and it’s as good distraction as any.
It’s a nice jacket, really. Clearly well-worn. And it does suit Martin, in an odd sort-of way.
Jon winces internally, remembering the conversation from earlier. He hadn’t meant to come off so... well. It doesn’t matter. Except that it does, even though it doesn’t, but it does.
Once they reach Jons door, he pushes off of Martin to lean on the wall while he fumbles for his keys. Martin lingers as he does so, twiddling his thumbs awkwardly in the silence.
Jon finds his keys and sighs in relief as the door swings open.
He nearly wanders inside and shuts the door before remembering basic human etiquette. He pauses in the doorway, turning to Martin. Who smiles awkwardly.
“Thank you.” He says stiffly, still leaning heavily on the doorframe. “That was... very kind. Of you.” Martin shakes his head.
“It’s nothing, really. Couldn’t exactly just leave you there, could I?” 
Jon shifts awkwardly, wincing at the brief weight on his leg. He’s right of course, morally at least. If not logically.
“I... I suppose not.” He says, hesitating before adding “I’m sorry.”
“Look, Jon. I already said it’s fine-”
“No-” Jon grimaces “not for that. I- I meant... for what I said. About your clothes. They don’t... I just- I didn’t expect it, and I may have come off as... rude.” He mutters
“Oh.” Martin says flatly, Jons sure he’d forgotten about that until just now, and he wishes he could have kept it that way.
“they do suit you, though.” He says, after an awkward pause. “Your clothes, I mean. It looks- you look nice.” he finishes as genuinely as he can- he does mean it. Of course, he just doesn’t know how to make it sound like he does.
“Oh” Martin says again, brightening slightly, his cheeks going blotchy red in a blush. “I- er- thank you...? I suppose?”
“Yes. Well. Your welcome, I suppose.” There’s another awkward pause, Martin isn’t quite smiling at Jon, but there’s something soft in his expression Jon can’t quite parse. “ Have a good day, Martin.” He says finally, after a long pause. Martins cheeks redden again.
“Oh- yeah, er. You too Jon- and take care of yourself. Alright?”
Jon nods, and Martin smiles. And Jon thinks he’d like to see Martin smile a bit more.
He waves as Martin heads down the stairs, he can hear Martin humming as he goes.
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gentlemancrow · 3 years ago
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14: “I’m screwed” shippy JMart :) 💚
Ehehe this one got away from me a little bit! But ask for shippy Jmart get a gushy mooshy Crow! Please enjoy! ; w ;
“I’m screwed…”
Martin watched helplessly through the slats of the yellowed blinds on Jon’s office window as his entire life went up in flames. He dimly recalled some trite old saying about seeing one’s life flash before one’s eyes before the moment of unceremonious besmirching from the cruel mortal coil, but for him it was more of a hysterical repeated rewinding of every single bumbling misstep that had orchestrated his imminent demise.
From the moment he decided he had just enough time before work to pop into the Tesco for the usual bouquet of flowers for his visit to his mother later in the day, to the snap decision to get the one made of tulips, bright crimson, orange, and yellow like a flame, rather than the usual white lilies, all the way up to entering the institute, Elias stuffing a file for Jon in his already laden arms, and then the chaos that had erupted as he attempted to deliver it, he lived it all over again. First there was something about the kettle being on the fritz, and obviously since he used it the most frequently, clearly he knew how to repair errant electronic kitchen devices. He was halfway through chastising Tim for false equivalencies in his logic when Sasha had breezed past and asked for a report he’d supposed to be finished with the day prior, and somewhere in the snarking with Tim and the flailing over his dereliction of duty the flowers had been abandoned on Jon’s desk and the file tucked under his arm instead.
By the time Martin realized he was missing something bulky and crinkly and fragrant it was too late. Jon was already in his office, tatty messenger bag still looped around his chest, forgotten, staring at the fiery bouquet on his desk with the scientific method scrolling visibly through his pupils as he regarded it like a corpse on an autopsy table, hand in a fist with his thumb pressed to his lips. Martin had never wished harder for some sort of horrific creature of the darkness to strike the institute again and just devour him whole this time to put him out of his misery.
“You’re what, mate?” Tim’s adjacent query only intensified that desire.
“Tim! SHUSH!” he squeaked, grabbing his friend by the shoulders and hauling him out of the line of sight from the office window.
“Easy there, big guy!” he laughed, “What’s all the hullabaloo?”
“I’m SCREWED. Big time,” Martin moaned, burying his face, which had been bright scarlet since the moment his hubris had roosted, into his hands, “See those flowers in there? I bought those for my usual trip to see my mum this afternoon but somehow between you being an idiot and me also being an idiot and forgetting to finish that report I sort of… left them there… by accident…”
Jon, meanwhile, had finally set his bag down and had circled his desk like a vulture. He reached out with delicate fingers like forceps and pinched the very edge of the card to inspect it, which, unfortunately, only added to the mystery with its coquettish blankness, as Martin had yet to fill it in. Tim watched, nonplussed.
“So? What’s the big deal about that? Just go explain it to him and I’m sure he… Oh. OH,” he cackled as realization dawned on him, “Yeah, nope you’re screwed.”
“Thanks…”
“Ahh, don’t sweat it. The man’s so thick I’m sure he thinks it’s just a prank or some continued spooky attempt on his life or something. The absolute last thing he would think would be that you of all people would…” Tim stopped himself in the withering blue glare blazing at him from behind round spectacles, “Anyway, again, this is Jon we’re talking about. He’ll just treat it like some weird cosmic mystery until he burns himself out on it or the next one shows up.”
“Y-Yeah but-“
“Just go explain! Unless you want to watch him wriggle about it like a fish on a hook all day. Which I am diametrically unopposed to, by the way, sounds absolutely hilarious.”
Martin winced, hating the idea of being the missing chunk of code that caused Jon’s brain to glitch for the remainder of the day, and sucked in a breath between his teeth.
“No, no you’re right,” he sighed, “Just… no flowers at my funeral if he kills me, okay?”
“Kate Bush songs only, got it, yep.”
Martin rolled his eyes, not dignifying that with a response, and shuffled on mechanical feet to the closed door of Jon’s office. He rapped lightly a few times before pushing his way in, smiling sheepishly at the head archivist who had clearly just unceremoniously flung himself in front of the mysterious bouquet to hide it from view.
“Martin!” he barked, “What in the hell are you-“
“Uh, just needed to talk to you for a second.”
He closed the door behind him
“Oh, uh… about wh-“
“About those, actually,” Martin confessed through his teeth, pointing, mortified, at the coy spray of flaming tulips peeking out from behind Jon’s hip.
He whipped around to look at them, then back to his assistant, then back to the flowers again, the blush that only ever seemed to find the tips of his ears glowing like two carmine rosebuds there.
“…You?”
That unreadable earthy brown gaze, somewhere between wilting regency heroine and venomous snake ready to strike with fangs bared, harpooned Martin directly to the heart.
“No! God no! S-Sorry!” he yelped, flailing his hands defensively in the air, “I-I mean they are mine, yes, b-but I-! Th-They’re for my mum! I-I try to visit her in her care home if I can on Fridays, and I always bring her some flowers! I was supposed to be dropping off a file for you, but then Tim was hounding me about the broken kettle and Sasha needed that damned report and I was all mixed up and I… I forgot them here. On your desk. Your desk of all places. I still have the file and um… T-Trade you? Hah…”
Jon’s finely sculpted brow shifted from pinched, to bemused, to a strange, sorrowful relief as Martin finished lamely in falsetto and he chuckled under his breath.
“Ah… right. Right! I thought for a second someone might have um…” he snorted breathlessly, “Hah, I knew that was a preposterous notion.”
The metaphysical harpoon still in Martin’s chest shattered in icy shards of anguish as his heart collapsed under the weight of itself.
“Wh- Jon, is it really that preposterous a notion someone might want to bring you flowers?” he asked, crushed.
Jon flourished a flippant, elegant hand.
“Come on Martin, this is me we’re talking about. I’ve never gotten flowers once in my life. I’m not the kind of person people think to buy flowers for. It’s not a big deal.”
“Well then let me be the first!” Martin insisted, his mouth and heart moving in tandem before his brain could stop them.
Jon’s brow creased again.
“What? Good lord no, I’m not going to take the flowers you bought for your mother. Who is also in a care home, mind.”
“I’d much rather give them to you.”
The skeptical expression marring Jon’s face did little to hide the blush flourishing at the tips of his ears again.
“Look. We’re friends now, aren’t we?” Martin elaborated shyly, “Friends can send each other flowers. And honestly? My mum doesn’t even like them… no matter what kind I bring. They usually end up being for her nurse instead. So I… I think they’ll have a much better home with you.”
A tiny smile quirked the corner of Jon’s mouth, snipping an invisible thread that softened his entire face into something innocent and full of wonder.
“I see. If you’re sure, I suppose I could…”
“I’m very sure,” Martin replied without hesitation, “Just tell people an old friend sent them out of the blue, or you have a secret admirer or something!”
“Well I don’t know about all that, but-” Jon chuckled, smiling softly, “Thank you. Just the same.”
Martin looked up, just for a moment, and met Jon’s gaze, letting the piercing erudite wood of it lay bare his fluttering heart.
“You’re welcome…”
Jon shifted in the beat of ensuing silence, his eyes flicking away from sky blue radiance to shift his shoulders back into a professional square.
“You uh, said you had a file for me?”
“Oh! Yes! Right! I-I will go fetch that file for you indeed and uh-! Oh yeah! Make sure you snip off the ends of the stems a bit before you put them in water. Helps them last longer,” Martin offered, snapping out of his enchantment and already slinking backwards to the door, “Oh and also! When they start to go, I’ll show you how to press one in a book, so you can keep it, if you like!”
“I’d like that very much, actually.”
Martin smiled, nodded, and saluted awkwardly as he escaped Jon’s office and closed the door behind, leaving him in private to wait until he was sure no one would see. Once he was certain, he preciously gathered the tulips into his hands and brought them to his nose, breathing in the field bright scent of his very first bouquet from a secret admirer.
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organic-guacamole · 2 years ago
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uh yeah so I wasn't planning on watching the episode until the weekend but my sister woke up super early and started like dancing or swinging from the ceiling fan or something and it woke me up so now I will bring back the guac episode text blocks :')
Hsmtmts: Season 3: Episode 1 Reaction
"And love is an open door. Did I just make that up? It's pretty good."
First new line of the show and I'm smiling like an idiot. So turns out I'm not actually over this show🥸
DAD JOKES ARE LIFE. I will be taking notes as EJ continues to speak.
big red's got work? all the time? why? can't he take two weeks off to enjoy the summer with friends? he's like 16? huh??
and Sebbie's gotta milk so this is how we explain their absence 🧍🏽‍♀️
oh so Ricky is with Lily after all? icky licky.
Carlos switching his glasses for sunglasses made me laugh a bit too much. maybe I should pull my sister down from the ceiling and go back to sleep...
wait wait wait
I'm not American and I haven't paid much attention to the details yet but like, Utah and California are close, but close enough that these kids' parents let them drive by themselves across states? ISNT CARLOS LIKE CANONICALLY 16? is this normal? I'm sorry
EJ being the son of Cash Caswell 4 and a half minutes into the season. why do rich people need more than 1 home? also yes Gina. she knew about the 2nd home so I'm assuming she's at least seen it (unless EJ just casually mentions his other houses but to me he seems like the kinda guy to forget he has more houses than the average person and just never talk about it) so yeah slay girlie pop marry rich! life is about the material things! go queen!
"you come to camp shallow lake and you leave and someone else" oh no. foreshadowing.
yeah I miss seb too.
the whole phone confiscation thing is awful to me. not because I'm addicted or anything, just that, that's my property and they're storing it in a bucket with other people's nasty phones in a dark room somewhere and idk what's happening to it? no thanks I'll leave it home.
oh I completely forgot the intro song thing *insert harsh whistle*
RICHIE EWE WEQEQ WS
this is funny though. don't mind my disgusted expression as I watch this scene, I'm rather enjoying seeing Ricky turn into a text to speech reader.
the more Lily talks the more I fear for Ricky's life.
Caribbean cruise? uhhh I live in the Caribbean 😥😥😥 imagine just chilling and you see miss Jenn running around buying souvenirs.
also. MR BOWEN? GIRL BENJAMIN MAZZARA IS RIGHT THERE. HE CONFESSED TO YOU AT THE END OF LAST SEASON. THIS WOMAN-
so it's confirmed that this is the same camp that Nini and EJ met at😃
I love Ashlyn. no context needed.
Why is she still with Howie again?
the non-wildcats in the corner. Are they credited as non-wildcats on IMDb?
as Ms Jenn is talking about sparks, remember when she and Mr Mazzara started a fire at the school and just...ran away? why don't we talk about this?
I wrote an alternate 2x12 fanfic where Ricky knows about the harness already so I genuinely thought they all knew already... anyways, yay Tim for bringing back this plotpoint!
Carlos being horrified by these random dudes throwing things is exactly what I expected from this season. that and Ricky coming to his senses but we can't always get what we want.
Jet is hot but we knew this already. anyways gimme the enemies to lovers with Ricky please, with a bunch of angst with happy ending, all that jazz. gimme the flavour🤌🏽🤌🏽
the way lily's body language is... reminds me of an episode of 911 where this girl murdered her boyfriend on valentine's day because he wanted to leave the date... she literally looked so much like how Lily looks rn... RUN RICHARD
isn't she like 14? like canon... I have a lot of questions for her parents mainly.
so he really just has big red's car this whole time? he's having his mv moment so I'll overlook it. we all need our main character moment at some point. but actually. it's a literal music video in the middle of the episode.
wait have we seen Kourtney and Carlos interactions yet? please someone tell me if we have or have not because this is my favourite. also let's discuss Kourtney's rainbow belt 😁
what kind of life changing 2 week camp is this? why are they all acting like all new people will be brainwashed and their lives will flip upside down by the time it's over
emo boy Jet meets emo boy Ricky they un-emotify together or something idk
"if you fall in no one will hear your screams" "don't go too far into the woods or you'll be gone for good" still not convinced this isn't a murder mystery season.
...
you telling me
Disney plus exists
in the universe of a show
on Disney plus
...
anyways so is this how EJ becomes director-
damn so he's really second choice for this too👩🏽‍🦯
RICKy? how does this even happen? don't they have to pay for this camp? how did he get so far in and portwell are the first people he sees? I'm so confused 😭
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chronicbatfictioner · 3 years ago
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Exchanges and Compromises - Chapter 20
The dinner was just as Jason expected, bland, dull, a lot of formalities in which Bane was visibly struggling with and did not even bother to pretend to know the difference between steak or salad forks. Jason, Dick, and Tim managed to keep the conversation alive and light, somehow without offending the formality of the dinner. Good thing, Jason thought, that The League had taught him of formal dinner etiquette and whatnot, otherwise he would have been slurping the baiwang with the soup spoon instead of the Chinese soup spoon provided by Alfred - like Bane.
Dick, for all of his lack of etiquette education, won in the manners division - regardless of the fact that Tim was helping him by pointing out which cutlery should be used for what. At the very least, he was not beneath asking what he wasn't sure of. 
The day after was a little duller. Alfred merely informed them that the police were there along with the District Attorney, Harvey Dent, to arrest Bane on several counts of murder. Bane was arrested nearly without a fight - he had been purged of his venom strength and knew that he had no chance against some of the cops who were ready to taser him.
Jason was... frankly, a little disappointed.
"Would've been nice if there was a brawl or something," Dick voiced Jason's thought out loud just as he walked outside.
"Oh, goodness, I'm just glad this is over," Bruce commented, glaring apprehensively at Dick's back as the latter walked away with Damian. There was a good long silence before he added, "I presume now that Bane is out of this house, Damian will no longer need you two? I mean, he has me now - and his grandparents." he pointed out.
"I have vowed to guard Damian until he is an adult," Jason replied simply. Ignoring Bruce's sudden change of expression. "it is my order."
"Well, Talia... no offense. But Talia won't-- is no longer around to hold you accountable." Bruce argued.
"No, she's not. But Damian is." Jason looked at the child, sitting under one of the Manor's massive trees with a thick sketchbook before him. Dick, Jason knew, was on the tree. Even with Bane arrested, Oracle had warned that as long as he's not fully incarcerated in a maximum-security facility, he could still either get out and hurt the Waynes - including Damian. Therefore Jason asked Dick to remain with them for a little while longer. Thankfully, Dick didn't mind.
"He's a child. Children adapt well with changes of environments," Bruce said. "and if you're afraid that Bane would come back, I can hire some bodyguards for him."
Jason managed to hold back his smirk. People always thought that he was there to protect Damian; not realizing that he was protecting others from Damian's temper. Instead, he smarted, "like you protected your parents by sending them overseas."
"Oh, now, that's not fair." Bruce protested. "It was... we all thought that... at least mother and I..." he didn't finish his sentence as he exhaled exasperatedly. "His DNA check is back," he continued after a few moments of silence.
"Obviously, he hasn't a drop of Wayne blood in him," Jason suggested, a little dryly. "Something anyone with knowledge of the molecular structure of DNA would have known right away. You accepted Damian right away because you saw he has your mother's ears, in spite of his green eyes. Yet you doubted your father's denial in spite of the fact that there is nothing on Bane that resembled any of you - including about all of the portraits of your ancestors.
"And then there's something else I realized. Bane came with nothing; whereas Damian came with the Al Ghul wealth. You were more accepting because Damian would not equal splitting the Wayne wealth..."
"That is not true!" Bruce growled. "I would not have turned Damian away even if he was not Talia's child. He is my child, and I know that he is!"
"Then we're back to my initial point: You were unable to defend your parents because you did not have 100% faith in their virtues. The Al Ghuls are known leaders of the League of Assassins, to which the leadership shall now be Damian's. What will be your argument, when he decides to take over the League fully? 'Oh, I can't be associated with criminals, even if said crimes were just allegation and not a video recording of someone snapping off another person's neck'?" Jason sneered. "Now, Mister Wayne. I also would like to remind you, that I have Damian's legal custody. If you insist I should leave, I shall bring him along."
"You can't do that," Bruce scowled. "He's my biological child..."
"You have studied your country's laws, Mister Wayne. But you forgot the one crucial thing: Damian is not your country's boy by any means other than your claim." Jason mentally realized that he has placed one of his ace cards onto the table. But he honestly prefers this kind of conversation not to be had when Damian is present. And from the looks of it, he has packed his sketching materials and was making his way back indoors. "Do not try to deny Damian's access to me, or the League, Mr Wayne. He is not yours to manipulate," he added softly while Damian was still out of range.
"Hey guys, Damian and I are hungry," Dick announced as they went past the door. "Think Alfred would let us have cookies?"
"He's the one who is hungry, Todd," Damian told Jason. "I shall wait until tea time for the cookies. It is only a mere hour away."
"Why don't you scrub up a little? Tea should be ready by the time you're done." Bruce suggested.
Damian's scowl could have killed a cobra. "While I am planning on refreshing myself, father, it would be kind of you to cease directing me as if I am an imbecile," he stated, and for the second time in less than 10 minutes, Jason bit the inside of his cheek to stop a snicker.
Bruce, however, was not amused at Damian. "Well! That is not what a child should say to his father!" he admonished.
"Todd," Damian glared at Jason. "Did you not inform Mr Wayne here that I merely referred to him as 'father' due to common societal practices?" he asked with air quotes around the word 'father'.
"I have informed him that, Damian," Jason assured him.
"Do remind him on a daily basis that I am not obliged to remain here beyond what is demanded by his country's societal norms." Damian continued.
"I shall, Damian," Jason replied.
"Very well, I shall be in my quarters until tea time. You might consider feeding Grayson here, Todd," Damian said dismissively.
"I actually have some matters to discuss with you, Damian, if you don't mind. I think Grayson can fend for himself just fine," Jason told him.
"I don't mind. Let us, then." Damian said, leading the way back to his room.
Jason nodded politely to Bruce and motioned Dick to join him. "Mr Wayne, Grayson."
As they left Bruce, still standing in confusion - probably - Dick remarked, "ouch," softly.
"Go on and get your own cookies, Grayson," Jason remarked.
"I need to discuss something with you, too. You two, actually, somewhere safe." Dick said. Both Jason and Damian paused their steps. "Yeah, and we might need to call upon a certain bird for backup," Dick added, almost nonchalantly. It was not until then that Jason noticed the tenseness on his shoulders. He remembered that Dick, too, was trained to keep an eye out for danger.
"You go on ahead with Damian, I'll ask Alfred if he may have tea in his quarters." Jason decided. Damian nodded, realizing the urgency in Dick's posture, and stepped a little closer to Dick as Jason turned the other way.
Whatever it is Dick has to say, Jason could be certain now that besides himself, Dick would protect Damian fiercely. And/or protect other, possibly innocent people, from Damian's tempers.
He was just wondering why did it seem that Bruce Wayne was so intent on removing him.
And why Dr and Mrs Wayne would suddenly take a trip to Europe right after they were proverbially and literally freed from Bane.
Alfred, as usual, was in the kitchen preparing for tea time. In spite of being Americans, the Waynes seemed to like the habit of afternoon tea time.
Jason told Alfred of Damian's request, and Alfred nodded slowly. "Is Master Bruce still in the sun-room, then?" he asked.
"Last time I saw him, yeah."
"Ah, then... young Jason, may an old man request something from you and your vast knowledge of herbs?" Alfred's face was as impassive as ever when he said that, just a shade before he returned to his task of preparing some small sandwiches. But Jason was a little confused. Why would Alfred ask him for herbs? As far as Jason could tell, he was as healthy as... well, someone Jason's age, which has got to be at least a third of Alfred's; half at most. Jason didn't think that Alfred was any older than mid- to late-40s.
"Sure, how can I help?" he answered, anyway.
"Oh, I was wondering if there is any method you may suggest to... how do I put it... Chafe off surgical remains within oneself? I have had work done for my nose, you see, on a whim as a young lad; and I do not believe it looks becoming on me as I age. I feel as if it makes me look like another person is inhabiting my body, as Master Bruce was wont to say."
Jason blinked, and partially wished Dick was there to confirm his thoughts. In spite of being the exact same height as Jason, Alfred was bowing his head a little as he spoke; and Jason knew that there was a surveillance camera that would be able to record their conversation in the kitchen. His shoulders were tenser than the task of cutting bread would have required.
"Well, wow... okay. I'll need to actually search my books. You know some of the ladies back then would apply something to their skin for scars or bruises. But I'm not sure if it'll work on surgical stuff. I'll let you know?" Jason replied carefully.
"Thank you, Jason, for considering. While it shames me for being vain, it is... rather crucial." Alfred smiled at him.
"No problem, Alf," Jason patted him on the shoulder and made his way back to Damian's room - where each and every surveillance device has been disabled and/or misdirected by the combination of Tim, Barbara, and Damian's own skills.
Once Jason walked in and closed the doors of Damian's room behind him, he was greeted by both Damian and Dick's voices.
"That man is not my father, Todd! I believe my grandparents may still be in danger!" Damian exclaimed as Dick stormed over and announced 'There was an increase of drone activities outside, that's why I brought Damian in!' - followed by Damian and Dick glaring at each other, and Damian said, "Todd, we might need to acquire some new exit strategy!" at the same time as Dick saying, 'I've sent a text to Tim, but he hasn't answered. I've texted Babs, though!'
Jason cringed at them. "Whoa! Hold up! If this is how you two kids report, nobody would need surveillance equipment to hear you from Gotham Harbor!" he snarled. The two promptly stopped and glared at each other again, as if they both were hoping to have Superman's laser vision or something. "Okay, I've heard you both, and I'm upping the ante. Alfred just asked me practically for a method to dissolve foreign objects inside someone's body and allude that someone in the house is not who they seemed. And said someone might be Bruce."
Damian threw his fist to the air, stating, "I knew it!"
Dick's eyes were wide as saucers. "Okay... I would... I've wanted to say the same thing since we got in. But I was kinda scared I might be wrong. What makes you sure?"
"Alfred referred to Bruce in the past tense when talking to me," Jason said. "You? --wait, no, Damian first."
"He looked and behaved differently than the videos mother had shown me," Damian replied.
"I second Damian on this. Well, dude... we need to communicate better, don't we?" Dick said, telling the last bit toward Damian. "I've only met him once, way back when-- when my parents were... you know. But like I've told you, I remember everything from that day as if it has just happened. I remember Bruce Wayne was there with a blonde girl wearing chinchilla fur, a 50s hairdo, and an actual pearl pin. But when my parents... right after, I saw him directing traffic of people out of the tent calmly. His presence then was literally calming, like, everyone was looking at him for direction. This Bruce... generally, looked too nervous on everything; if that makes sense."
Jason thought a moment. Dick was really good at reading people's body language - even the most stoic Alfred. Before Bane was removed, Dick's assessment of Alfred was that he was uncomfortable with Bane, yet very welcoming of Damian. Thus his immediate trust in Alfred. However, since Bane was arrested and proven to not have been a Wayne; Jason hasn't got the chance to ask Dick to re-assess Alfred.
"Okay, I'll retrieve the video footage of your dad from 10 years ago from the League's servers. We'll cross-check. We'll tell the Birds once we're sure, yeah?" Jason suggested.
"Agreed," Damian nodded slowly.
"I'll have Tim keeping an eye on the Doc and Missus while we're at it, though. I mean, you know, precautions and all." Dick suggested.
"Okay, call Tim. If he doesn't answer, call Babs or his mom. I'd like this whole thing settled quickly before Bruce can do anything to harm Damian." Jason huffed a breath slowly, wondering what the hell is it with the Waynes that seemed to run on endless conspiracy theories, anyway.
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miss-choco-chips · 4 years ago
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Umm... I was wondering if you could Maybe do a follow up on your mini fic Last Line from dicks pov? It gave me alot of feelings and i would love to see the fallout?
Your work is really good! Its so cool how your brave enough to put pieces of yourself out there for other people!
Hey babe! Thank you for your kind words! It made me smile getting this, you are very sweet <3
I totally forgot about Last Line lol, but when I saw it reminded me that I actually wrote a bit more of it, both before and after the scene I posted. So, this isn’t exactly what you asked, but here’s some backstory and then the fallout!
---.---
Four years old, and he watches the red string on his finger pulled taunt towards the crying boy, the color of the thread well disguised among the red blood of the murdered acrobats.
Nine, and he watches from the shadows as it swings right and left, following Robin’s pirouettes from building to building. The thread, that usually goes a few feet before ‘vanishing’ from sight, was almost completely visible now, at such a short distance from the person holding onto its other end.
He’s on his twelve when he tries to explain to Dick the importance of him going back home. He wasn’t sure of his success, even though the older hero took him to the manor, because during his whole speech, Nightwing hadn’t looked up from the red joining them together. It wasn’t exactly how Tim wanted him to find out, but… Batman needed a Robin, and he was out of options.
At fourteen, he feels Kon’s hand clenching on his shoulder, as they both watch from the side how Nightwing swept Barbara off her feet and twisted her around, laughter falling from both their lips even as Dick thread’s end was pointing towards Tim. The third Robin didn’t turn to look at his best friend, didn’t meet Bart’s eyes or react to Cassie taking his hand on hers. He just made sure his face was perfectly devoid of any emotion when he muttered, low enough only a kryptonian would hear, ‘I wish it was any of you’. 
(A few nights later, when he and Conner were sitting quietly on the Tower’s roof, the clone took Tim’s hand with his own, his lack of red string blatantly obvious as he said ‘If I had any, I wish it could be you’. To this day, it’s the sweetest thing anyone ever said to him)
He is so, so tired, and he’s only sixteen. But keeping up with the shitfest that was the Battle for the Cowl, helping Dick while ignoring his red string (pulling him towards Nightwing, now Batman, stark contrast against the dark of his suit, with distracting insistency), dealing with Damian’s abuse as expected of him as the ‘mature, older brother’, coping with Bruce’s death, the shock of Dick throwing him, his soulmate, away so so easily…
(Shouldn't be surprising; Dick had been discarding him in favor of others since they met, shamelessly displaying his various relationships in front of him with an attitude that might be called cruel from anyone else but that just earned him playful shoves from other Leaguers while Tim was expected to swallow his pain, because a red string isn’t a promise, Dick is free… and yes, he knows that, but it doesn’t mean shit to his dying heart)
(Maybe, when he left for proof of Bruce being alive, it wasn’t so much for his old mentor than it was for himself)
----.----
Tim is seventeen and halfway across the world, looking at the string attached to his hand that never truly meant anything to any other than him (not to Bruce, who never took Dick aside and talked to him about consideration with his soul mate; not Dick's conquers, who never gave a fuck  about the red string in the hands that touched their skin, even when a lot of them knew who was on the other end of it; not Dick himself, who after asking every thing out of Tim and having it, forcefully took the one thing Tim wouldn't give by choice and claimed Tim was his equal, his soulmate, so he never could be his sidekick... even if it was the first time ever that Dick even mentioned the string tying them both together), when he thinks 'you were always free; now, I'm freeing myself’.
He gingerly bites on the string, and with his other hand takes a handful of it and pulls.
The pain piercing his heart is expected, but not new. He had been feeling it since the first time he saw Dick's back as he walked away with someone else.
He times it carefully, too. He doesn't think Dick would care, but just in case, Tim waits until it's morning in Gotham, when he's sure Dick is probably sleeping after patrol.
Maybe he would wake up without noticing
---.---
In Gotham, Dick is carried by Alfred and Damian to the cave, when the new Batman's screams of pain woke everyone in the Manor up. They are suspecting cardiac arrest, and then Dick looks down to his hand and notices the string, always tense, signaling him where his north is, where Tim is, laying loose and lifeless.
He panics, asks Superman to track Tim down or something, and when the man confirms Tim is still alive somewhere in the Middle East, he knows.
And like a freight train, the parting words Kori told him the last time they saw each other hit him right in the chest.
"He isn't going to wait for you forever"
----.-----
When Tim does come back, at nineteen, it’s a quiet thing. 
He spent the last how many days carefully setting his systems up, making sure his mainframe would outstand Oracle’s scrutiny when she realized he was back in town and tried to hack her way into his life.
(He didn’t blame her, of course not. Dick was charming enough, good enough, anyone he set his eyes into would be helpless to nothing but fall in his arms.
And, wasn’t Tim the one who would have been intruding, had he tried to chase after the first Robin? Everyone knew he and the original Batgirl were a perfect match, thousands of times better than Tim, whom Fate just wanted to screw over.
But not anymore)
The first thing he did, once the safe houses were chosen and his programs up and running, was to ruthlessly hack into the Batcomputer and take a look at patrol routes. 
He would need to keep clear of Diamond District and Old Gotham, least he risked crossing paths with B and R. The Financial and City Hall Districts were apparently Batgirl’s playground for the night, and if he wanted to drop by and let Cass know he was back, he could always search for her by the Upper West Side down to Chinatown.
He would avoid the Upper East Side like the plague, though. Maybe Coventry too, just to be safe. Lots of skintight blue in that direction.
Which left… Crime Alley, the Bowery and Burnley, mainly. He needn't check to know who’s house that was.
And that’s how he ended, on his very first night back on the streets, dragging Red Hood’s bleeding ass away from a blowing up building.
-----.-----
Apparently, saving a recently rehabilitated murderous vigilante was a bonding experience, because Jason didn’t kick him out of his side of town, nor tell on him. 
He couldn't, however, do anything to prevent the criminal gossip mile from spreading, and before a week had passed, half the city was aware of the new player on the board.
-----.------
Jason was taking a breather, smoking while sitting on his favorite rooftop, when the rustling sound of fabric told him his peace and quiet was over.
“I thought you were back at being N”, he greeted, not bothering to turn around or get up. 
“B was out of town, and Robin needed someone to watch over him during patrol.”
A quick glance around had Hood snorting, “Then y’re doing a shitty job. Don’t see the midget anywhere.”
It would never NOT be weird to hear a strangled laugh coming out of the Bat suit, as tight and humorless as it was now. It seemed big ol Dick wasn’t doing so great tonight.
“Batgirl took him to a party in Diamond District. Gang war.”
He humms in response, not bothering to keep on the smalltalk. N, no, B was here for something, and it wasn’t Jason’s job to ask it out of him; if it was important, he would do it himself.
“Where is him, Hood?”, he finally went to the heart of the matter. 
Jason tilted his head, still looking over his city, unmindful of the steps coming closer to his position, “Robin? Ya just said it, B. Going senile? Gang war, wasn’t it?”
“Don’t play around. You know I mean…”
Oh, yeah, Dickie still wasn’t sure what to call Timbo. Criminal gossip only went so far, for someone who didn’t bother to shout his hero name to everyone he beat up. It was very possible only  Jason was aware of his new monicker. All gothamites knew was a young vigilante showed up recently, wearing red and black and hanging out with the Hood, which immediately upped his street rep to ‘not to be fucked with’.
“Lil red?”, he completed for his older brother, feeling both charitable and petty. Batman’s wince was more evident by the rustling sound of his cape; he had hit a sore spot, hadn’t he? 
“Where? I’m not asking again.”
“Good, ‘cause I’m not answering. Must be ‘roundere somewhere, the little creep.”
“Hood, I’m running out of patience.”
“And I’m out of cigarettes, your point? I don’t have him on a leash asshole. We just share the same hunting space, it’s not like we go home together and do face masks while we talk about feelings.”
They did go to a safespot, though, and share beer and pizza while cursing their relatives and Fate as a whole, but it wasn’t necessary information for the fucker. He just breathed in the last of his smoke before dropping the cigarette butt and stepping on it, stretching as he did.
“Now, any more of this riveting conversation, or can I go? No, wait, it was a rhetorical question; get out of my part of town, ass. I’ve been plenty generous by letting you come this far, but our truce lasts as long as the lot of you don’t build any sandcastles on my playground and you know it. Now, scram.”
He could feel Dick’s reticence at leaving without what he came here for, but Oracle must be talking him into letting it be for tonight, because he didn't push. Jason turned just in the right moment to catch the way Dick looked down to his gloved hand, as if expecting the lifeless red string to be pulled taunt in Tim’s direction by some miracle. Jason felt the smallest ping of pity, quickly washed away by the memory of the younger hero’s haunted eyes as he told Jason the story of his severed soul bond and how he came to do it.
Thirty seconds after the bat vanished into the night, a little red bird landed softly on the spot next to him.
“Thanks, Hood”, he muttered, just as tired and hurting as he’d been ever since he saved Jason’s ass and they became partners, but with the smallest hint of lightness that made him prouder of driving Dick away than he’d ever been.
“Don’t mention it, but fair warning, the big B scomin back home in a few days, and he’s harder to kick out than a hurting, annoying bluebird.”
“I know”, Tim sighed, well aware of both facts. “I’ll play it by ear. For tonight, what about bashing some skulls and ruining Two Face’s new op? Good intel says it’s just a few blocks from here, and shattering bones always makes you smile.”
“Babybird, you speak the language of love.”
“Wasn’t that french?”
“I’m trying to compliment you, don’t be a smart ass about it.”
“I am smart, and I do have a good ass. That seems like an impossible request.”
----.----
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northlight14 · 3 years ago
Text
Breakup’s, birthdays and drag shows
Description: Roman and Janus broke up and now Roman can't celebrate his birthday with him. Now it's Virgil's job as his best friend to cheer him up.
TW: breakup mention, crying, cursing, Janus isn't intended to be unsympathetic but since Virgil doesn't like him it might come across that way, alcohol mention, brief violence mention, let me know if I need to add anything else
Ships: platonic prinxiety, past roceit
Genre: hurt/comfort
Prompt: alt prompt 4, drag (prompt by @pridewrite2021)
Virgil was browsing the card isle looking for a birthday card for Roman when his phone started to buzz. He pulled it out to see it was Remus calling him.
"Ugh, what is it Remus?" Virgil said, already not interested in whatever Remus had gotten himself into.
"Hey Virgin! Can you come over?" Remus chirped.
"I'll be coming over later to drop off Roman's card. Why, what's up?"
"Well, you know how Roman and Janus broke up last week?" How could Virgil forget? Roman had spent the entire week being an absolute wreck and Patton and Logan had to hold Virgil back in order to stop him beating Janus up.
"Yes." Virgil gritted out through his teeth.
"Well, Roman just realized that he isn't gonna be able to celebrate with him and that this is gonna be his first birthday without him in 3 years and what not. So now he's crying in his room, lookin' like a hot mess. And since he's your best friend and all I was wondering if you could come and cheer him up or whatever."
"What! How the hell am I supposed to do that?!" Virgil yelled, before realizing he's still standing in the middle of the card isle, hiding his face which was now scarlet.
"I don't know man but you'll come up with something! You're like a brother to him, Virgie!"
"You actually are his brother, Rem!"
"Come on Virgil, please!" Remus pleaded through the phone. "I just...I really don't know what to do, here." He said, voice suddenly going quiet.
Virgil sighed. "Ok, I'll be ten minutes."
———
Virgil always forgot how big Roman's house was. The drive way alone seemed to go on for ages, outlined by large trees and red rose bushes. The pathway to the door was a red brick and clearly well taken care of. The house itself was a faded red brick with large windows and balconies. The front door was too tall and painted black, standing in the middle of two white pillars.
Looking at where Roman lived, it was easy to see why Virgil had disliked him at first. When they'd first met, Roman had a much bigger problem with his bratty rich kid attitude and with his life seemingly perfect from an outsiders point of view it was easy to see why they clashed. after all, Virgil had absent parents and had to work several jobs to help pay bills. But as he got to know Remus better it made it much easier to see through Roman as well. Mr and Mrs Prince were nice enough but they had a bad habit of pitting Roman and Remus against each other, both with academics and creative pursuits. It turned out Roman's arrogant attitude was a coping mechanism for his surprisingly low self esteem. It also turned out that Roman wasn't just "lazy" when it came to school work like Virgil had first thought, but he was actually struggling with ADHD. The more Virgil learned about Roman and the more Roman learned about Virgil, the closer they became until they began to see each other as brothers. Brothers that would make fun of each other relentlessly but brothers non the less.
Virgil knocked on the large door and waited for a response. Not too long after, Mrs Prince answered. She was a tall and slender woman with tanned skin. Her dark hair was tied perfectly in a bun. She wore a black dress with a red shall, both of which looked as expensive as Virgil's car.
"Oh, hello Virgil. I assume you're here for Roman? Remus said you were coming." She said.
"Uh, yeah. Can I come in?"
"Of coarse, Roman should be in his room. He hasn't come out since this morning." She said, stepping aside to let Virgil in.
'Oh God.' Virgil thought to himself before heading upstairs and hoping he would finally be able to remember which room is Romans.
In the end Remus came out his room and pointed Virgil in the right direction but hey, no one else needed to know that.
Gently, Virgil knocked on Romans door and waited to be let in.
"Remus, I told you to go away!" Roman yelled from inside, his voice sounding muffled.
"Hey Roman, it's Virgil. Can I come in?"
There was a brief moments pause before Virgil heard a quiet voice he decided to interoperate as Roman inviting him in.
Virgil was very taken aback by the sight before him. The room, which was usually kept as neat as possible, was covered in tissues, chocolate wrappers and a mix of opened and unopened presents. Roman was sat on his bed, eyes puffy and hair messy.
"Um, hey, are you alright?" 'Fuck sake Virgil, obviously he isn't.' Roman sniffled, smiling despite himself. "Yeah, I just...I miss him, ya know?"
"Yeah." Virgil said, sitting beside him. "Oh, um, I got you this..." Virgil awkwardly passed him the card.
Roman smiled, accepting it. "Thanks."
"So...what do you want to do? For your birthday, I mean." Virgil said, trying and failing to hide his discomfort.
"I don't know..." Roman sighed, looking down at his hands. "I was just going to continue to watch Carmen Santiago. But I always watched that with Janus. It was our show, ya know? He'd always make a comment about how she's still stealing and I'd counter it with how she's stealing from thieves so surely that makes it ok! I don't know, it just...it feels wrong to watch it without him..." Roman laughed sadly. "Which sucks because the last episode left on a cliff hanger and I really wanna know what happens next." He laughed a little at his own expense.
Virgil couldn't help but smirk. "Well, why don't we go out somewhere?"
Roman looked down again. "I don't know..."
'Crap. What the heck am I supposed to do here?!'
Virgil looked around awkwardly. He then spied in the corner what looked like a new makeup pallet. Roman must have gotten it for his birthday. 'Bingo.'
"Hey, why don't we do each other's makeup?" Virgil offered.
Romans face immediately lit up. "Really?!" He said, excitedly.
"Yeah, why not?" Virgil said, scratching the back of his neck.
"Well last time I asked to do your makeup, you said you'd rather stab yourself in the eye with your eye liner."
"Yeah, well..." Virgil coughed. "Consider it my birthday present to you."
Roman immediately shot up and grabbed the eyeshadow pallet and several brushes. "I promise you won't regret this!" Yeah, Virgil was already regretting this but Roman seemed happy and that's all that mattered.
———
The brushes tickled Virgil's face as Roman layered the purple eye shadow. Virgil almost started to object as Roman began to apply silver jewels at the edges of the eye shadow, before stopping himself. Roman then finished the look by applying a purplish pink lipstick and brushing Virgil's bangs out of his face. He then handed Virgil a mirror. The look was very 80's glam, far from Virgil's usual style but he had to admit, it looked really good. The eyeshadow looked sharp, the upper lid being a lighter shade than the under eye and corners of the eyes.
"It looks great!" Virgil said, admiring it. Roman smiled proudly from the compliment. "Alright." Virgil said, taking the eye shadow pallet. "Your turn."
Roman laughed. "I appreciate the offer, rainy day real estate, but I don't really wanna look like I haven't slept in a hundred years." Roman teased.
"Says the guy who's went entire weeks not sleeping because he was binge watching a new show!" Virgil teased back.
"And I'll have you know I wear that like a badge of honor!"
"Besides," Virgil continued to laugh. "I know how to do other makeup looks."
"Ok..." Roman said. "But if I end up looking like a Tim Burton character, I will kill you with my bare hands." They both couldn't help but laugh.
Virgil decided to go for a similar style that Roman went for, layering different shades of red and mixing in some gold glitter. He also decided to draw a small crown on his right cheek, just below the eye. The look was then finished off with red lipstick to match.
He passed the mirror over to Roman who gasped in delight at his reflection. "It looks so good!" He exclaimed.
"Yeah? I'm glad you like it." Virgil smiled, pulling back on his purple patch hoodie after taking it off to give himself more mobility when applying the makeup.
"Wait, wait, wait!" Roman said, waving his arms in front of his face before jumping up and handing Virgil a black leather jacket that was hung on his chair as well as a pair of purple tinted heart glasses. "Put these on!" He exclaimed.
Virgil once again pulled off his hoodie, replacing it with the leather jacket. It fit him surprisingly well considering Roman was a fair bit taller and more muscular than him. He then put on the glasses and Roman eagerly pulled him off his bed and guided him to his full length mirror.
"Wow...I actually look really good." Virgil said.
"See! I told you!" Roman laughed.
Virgil examined the jacket. "I didn't think you'd own a jacket like this. Did you steal it from Remus or something?" Virgil asked.
Romans smile suddenly dropped. "It, uh, it was Janus'..."
Shit.
"Oh, um, sorry." Virgil said, honestly.
"It's ok." Roman sighed, sitting back on his bed. "I've been meaning to give it back. Especially since it still has his wallet in it. But that means I'll have to see him and I don't think I'm ready for that yet."
'He left his wallet in here?' Virgil put his hands in the pockets and sure enough, Roman was right. Virgil quickly started to feel all too powerful now knowing this.
"Hey, come on, let's go out somewhere. Show off your makeup." Virgil tried again.
"For someone who looks like they belong in a vampire novel, you're awfully eager to go outside." Roman laughed.
"Come on, I just think it'll do you some good to get out for a bit."
Roman averted Virgil's gaze. "I don't know..."
"Come on, man. Do you really want to let that jackass ruin your birthday?"
Roman sighed. "Ok, fine."
Virgil waited outside Romans room as he changed out his pajamas. When he came out, he was sporting a white shirt paired with a black jacket that had a red floral pattern. He was also wearing a pair of glasses, his in the shape of two fairy wings that matched the gold in his eye shadow perfectly.
As the two walked out the house, Roman called "Mom, weren't going out! I should be home soon!"
His mom sounded surprised by this but happy non the less. "Ok sweetie, be back soon!"
"So where are we going?" Roman asked as they walked out the house.
"How the hell should I know? I'm just winging it." Virgil laughed.
———
The two wandered through the town as the sun began to set, the reds and oranges bouncing off Romans glasses and the glitter perfectly. Virgil was all too aware of the judging looks they were being given but when he looked at Roman, he seemed happy. And right now that's all that mattered. Just keeping Romans mind off Janus.
Eventually, Virgil began to hear the sound of music and he subconsciously started to follow it, Roman tailing behind. As he wandered through the town he eventually found the source.
A bar putting on a drag show.
Roman was staring off into space, standing next to him. Virgil tapped his shoulder, pulling him back to reality. "Hey, I know what we're doing."
———
Romans face lit up once more when he saw the stage. It didn't seem like they missed too much, which was good. The drag queen that was stood on the stage currently was singing, her hair done big with makeup that shone and reflected the lights perfectly. Her dress black and covered in sequins and frills. The heels she wore didn't look comfortable in the slightest but she walked in them with ease.
The two sat at the bar. They were each 18 and 19, meaning they wouldn't be able to drink but given the circumstances, it was probably best if Roman didn't get drunk right now.
Instead, Virgil just ordered them some non alcoholic drinks and fries. Roman was about to hand him the money to pay but Virgil immediately declined. "My treat. It's your birthday after all." Virgil then remembered Janus' wallet still in his jacket pocket. 'I mean, if Janus is the reason we're here, it's only right he should be the one to pay for us, right?' Virgil couldn't help his smirk as he handed the money over.
The night continued and Roman and Virgil cheered loudly for each queen on stage, each one quite different from the last. Virgil watched as any sign of grief seemingly dissolved from Romans face.
The final queen for the night came on the stage and they both watched with joy as she performed.
"I know what you're doing, you know." Roman said, not taking his eyes off the stage. Virgil froze instantly, slowly daring to look at his friend. Roman once again had small tears in his eyes but he wore the most genuine smile Virgil hadn't seen on him in ages. "Thank you."
Virgil smiled at his friend. At his brother. "Of coarse."
-------
Authors note: I’ve been wanting to write something based on the glam looks Thomas posted for Roman and Virgil for a while now and I obviously wanted to write something for Romans birthday. So when I saw the prompt for today was ‘drag’ I immediately thought “well that’s convenient”. So happy birthday Roman! Anyway, hope y’all enjoyed. I’m still practicing my writing and hopefully I’m improving. 
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pl-panda · 4 years ago
Text
To Marry a Vigilante: Part 3
MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next
Disclaimer: Masterlist
------------
The dinner was an interesting affair. Everyone was gathered around a large table that could easily fit several more people. Marinette was sitting between Damian and her mother; on the opposite, Tim, Stephanie, and Cass took the seats. She was glad that they were all people she knew well enough. It was overwhelming. Before, Christmas was always just her and her parents. Occasionally, Nona came too. And there was this one time when she was five when her great-uncle visited. This was much too crowded. 
Damian gently squeezed her hand, reassuring her that it was alright. She ate some, but the nerves made her lose appetite quickly. She was in Gotham. Celebrating Christmas with her husband’s family. Husband… She was going to have a panic attack. She wasn’t ready. 
“Habibti. It’s okay. Everyone here’s a friend.” Damian whispered into her ear, seeing she was spiraling. “Nobody is going to judge us on anything.”
“But I didn’t make any gifts for the Kents. And I didn’t know your eldest brother had a daughter! And I’m a total klutz. I will probably knock over the tree and it will fall and set the house on fire and you will end up homeless or someone will get hurt and then your family will hate me and the Kents will hate me and I…” she kept whispering faster and faster until she was finally starting to feel the need to breathe or pass out. The jury was still out. 
Seeing her daughter’s panic, Sabine also grabbed her hand and squeezed it lightly. “Honey, let’s go get some fresh air.” She said loud enough for people close to them to hear before leading Marinette outside. Nobody batted an eye when the pair passed them. 
Once the two were in the back garden, Mari felt her legs give up under her and if not for her mother, she would have probably collapsed. The woman held her tight and led the girl toward the bench, which was luckily not covered in snow. 
“I’m so sorry, Maman. I don’t know… I just felt so overwhelmed. There were all these people and I was really meeting my husband’s family and friends for the first time and I guess I was not prepared for all this…” She was speaking fast. 
“Don’t worry sweetie. I understand. Did I tell you how, when I met your Nona for the first time, I accidentally flipped her over my shoulder and pinned her to the ground?” Sabine asked, smiling understandingly at her daughter. 
“No! Really?”
“Yes. Well, in my defense, she surprised me with a gun that shot candies.” 
Marinette couldn’t help but giggle at that. It did seem like something her Mémé would do. 
“She was shocked at first and I was afraid I hurt her. Instead, after that, she decided that I was apparently worthy of dating her boy and gave us her approval.” 
“So… the moral of this story is that I should flip Talia over for them to accept me?” Mari asked with a cheeky grin. 
“That too, sweetie. I can even lend you something from my bag if you want a more… permanent effect.” 
“Maman!” 
“Fine…” Sabine grumbled goodheartedly. “You don’t need to worry about fitting in or how they will perceive you. I’ve seen how that boy looks at you and I approve.” She smiled. “That’s all that should matter.”
“Thank you maman. I’m glad you’re here.” She hugged her mother as the two sat together on the bench, enjoying the evening chill until the cold became irritating instead of refreshing.
-------
When the two returned, the dinner was nearing the end. Marinette noted seven burning holes on the ceiling but didn’t comment. There was also a plate on fire next to Jason that he seemed adamant not to acknowledge. Also, Mar’i and Jon were levitating above the table and playing rock paper scissors, except they used the props. Silently, Marinette walked to take a seat next to Damian. Her mother went over to talk a bit with Bruce about something.
“Um… Why is Jason’s plate on fire?” She asked, very much confused. 
“Tt. He wanted a souffle on fire.” 
“We’re already at desserts?” The girl asked, surprised. In the corner of her eye, she saw Cass staring at Tim and Stephanie with a strange gaze. It wasn’t hostile, but rather, she couldn’t really name the emotions present. 
“Yes. I saved you some maracons. You love the strawberry ones, right?”
“You made me prefer lemon ones.” She smiled. “The subtle sourness really brings out the sweetness.” 
“Of course it does Angel.” He smiled. “Sadly, we sit next to Brown, who will devour anything with sugar in it.”
A devious grin appeared on Mari’s face. “Really now?” She reached over into her purse to pull a small box where she kept the power-up cookies for her Kwami. “Tikki… will you mind if I give her a burnt-red one? You know which…”
For a moment, it looked like the Kwami wanted to protest, but then the small goddess noticed the plate of cookies was empty. “Go for it, Marinette. It won’t hurt her.”
“Stephanie! I’ve got a spare macaron I can share,” she smiled at the blonde girl. 
“Gimme!” She almost leaped like a gremlin, her eyes in a slight daze.
“Uh-oh. She is experiencing a sugar rush. I think she ate the whole plate herself,” Tim spoke from his seat, eyes slightly worried. 
Mari handed over the macaron and watched as Steph ate it. It took only a moment for her face to flush red and tears to appear in her eyes. “Water!” She said with a hoarse throat. Tim handed her a glass, but when she downed it, the burning only increased.
“Oh no! I forgot to warn you! It was made with ground hot pepper instead of flour… silly me!” Mari said, keeping the cute smile on. “I would advise milk.”
When Stephanie ran to the kitchen, followed by Tim laughing and Cass and Damian smiling, the older boy turned to Marinette. “You are devious.” 
“She shouldn’t have eaten so many cookies,” the girl shrugged. After that, she actually started to enjoy the evening. It might have started a prank war later on, but for now, she was safe. 
---------
After dinner, the crowd moved to a large living room where adults took seats on the couches or chairs while most kids and teens sat on the fluffy carpet. Alfred was walking around and handing the wine glasses to adults and hot chocolate to the youngsters. Clark opted for hot chocolate as well, which earned him a round of teasing. 
Since everyone was staying the night, there was no need for designated drivers. When Tim and Stephanie tried to get their hands on alcohol, Alfred slapped their hands. More laughter followed. 
Marinette sat there, cuddled into one armchair with Damian, observing everything and looking cute. 
“...I’m just saying, Bruce. You could smile a bit more in costume too. It wouldn’t kill you.” Clark finished a short speech.
“Work and homelife should stay separate,” Tim spoke up from his spot on the floor.
“Which doesn’t stop you from smiling. You’re not a Buckingham Palace guard.” Lois pointed out.
“To be frank, you could smile a bit more often, B.” Dick supported the enemy.
“It would be bad for the image,” Bruce mumbled. “If anyone saw Batman smile, it would ruin my years of hard work.”
“Diana disagrees.” Kor’i smiled. “She actually said once that ‘a smiling bat looks pretty handsome’.”
“I’ve seen a smiling bat!” Mar’i shouted from her spot on Jon’s knees, the two of them acting like nice siblings. It secretly irked Damian, but he wouldn’t ever voice that thought. “There was a cartoon!” 
“That’s nice, sweetie.” Sabine couldn’t help but rub it into Bruce some more. “Did he also have a cape, like Bruce?”
“Yes! And he walked on two legs!” 
“See? I think your image doesn’t need to suffer.” Tom joined his wife. His English wasn’t that good, but he could get by. “Maybe you could get a cartoon about Batman? Ladybug had her own movie and a song dedicated to her.” 
“Ladybug?” Jonathan asked. Marinette immediately tensed at the mention of her superhero name. She definitely did not want to reveal herself to everyone here. It’s not that she didn’t trust any of them, since all of them knew about Batman and co., but she felt uneasy. The fewer people knew, the better. 
“Parisian superheroine.” Sabine clarified.
“We sure didn’t hear about her back in Smallville.” Martha insisted, smiling. “Then again, we don’t really keep with the news from the old world.”
“There was this terrorist in Paris that used magic to turn people into temporary villains. He was finally defeated recently. I think you’ve seen all the ladybug decorations.” Tim explained in broad terms. 
“Ah! Right. I was wondering about the ladybugs…” 
Damian noted that his beloved was tense and decided that it was a moment good as any other to spring up the surprise. He shifted slightly, signaling that he wanted to get up. Marinette, who was still holding her cup, immediately sprung onto her feet. She thought he maybe wanted to leave somewhere or speak with his father alone. 
Instead, Damian hit the side of his hot chocolate cup with a spoon three times, gathering everyone’s attention. 
“Tt. I wanted to say a few words. This will be important so shut up you lot.” He cleared his throat before continuing in a mostly emotionless voice that most people associated with his ‘Ice Prince’ persona. “Marinette. When I first met you, it was not from our own free will. The bitch that is my mother forced our hand and tied us together. But we got to know each other out of our own free will. Nobody forced me…” His head snapped toward Dick. “Tt. Don’t you dare, Grayson.” Seeing his brother raise his hands in a surrender gesture, he carried on. “Nobody forced me to come to Paris. Definitely, nobody forced you to actually accept my courting. To this day, I am left wondering why an Angel as you would actually agree to go out with me, but here we are.”
The people watched with rapt attention. Marinette just stood there, unable to voice a coherent thought. She had no idea what was happening, but a deep red blush had made its way onto her face when he praised her. 
“You were so full of passion and joy and it reminded me a bit of Jon, but without the irritating factors.” 
“Hey!” The boy protested. A murderous glare from Damian shut him up quickly. 
“As I was saying, you were perfect in my eyes. I was taken away by your kindness. There are no words to describe my feelings.” His tone was still emotionless and monotonous, but Marinette could see that he was doing his best to actually see this through. “I can say without a doubt that I love you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” 
All air was suddenly sucked from Mari’s lungs when he fell on one knee and pulled out a small black box. Inside was probably the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. There were three flowers on a golden band. In the center of each, there was a shining diamond, surrounded by smaller stones. The petals were made from pink stones that she suspected were also diamonds. Were there even pink diamonds? All in all, it looked beyond words. 
“Will you do me that honor and become my wife?” When he finally asked, she could feel the world spinning. This was… this was better than in any of her daydreams. And not only because instead of Adrien there was Damian. 
The words died in her throat. She had to sit down to not faint. “Yes…” She whispered weakly, so only Damian could hear. The boy smiled brightly (a rare sight to be sure) and put the ring on her finger. 
Her gaze fell on the band he had on his own hand. It was silver with a large black stone in the center of the band, surrounded by eight diamonds. The Black Cat Miraculous she realized. 
An applaud arose from several places in the room, but some of the guests were confused. 
“Aren’t you two too young to get married?” Johnathan asked, scratching his head. 
“Tt. Technically, we are already married where I come from. This is for my wife’s content and nothing else.”
“Married?!” The old farmer asked, scandalized. 
“Tt. That’s what I said. Now can someone please get my Angel some water? I think she is about to faint.” 
“Um… I would also be very interested in the story…” Clark joined his father. He wasn’t exactly that much scandalized, but confusion was clear on his face. 
“I promise I will explain everything. I think we should give the two some breathing space…” Bruce proposed hesitantly. 
“I will help get Mari to her room. I think she has had enough excitement for today,” Tom offered.
“I am also turning in for the night, Father. I trust that between you and Miss Cheng they will get a full story. Sans the private parts of course.” He glared at him. 
“I will make sure of that.” Sabine quickly cut any protests.
“Good. Good night everyone. And Merry Christmas or whatever.” With that, he left, wanting to catch up with Tom and Marinette.
----------------
Masterlist // Next
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jonspurpleskirt · 4 years ago
Text
Down the Spiral
Tim Stoker & Jonathan Sims, hurt/comfort
Summary: Michael loves playing with the Archivist and so after Not-Sasha is taken care of and Jon is back at the Institute murder charge free it reveals that he has Sasha stashed "savely" in its halls. All Jon has to do to get her out is go through the yellow door. ____
Everything just kept getting worse. That thought hadn't left his mind since the confrontation with Elias. It kept him from his work, making him stare at the statement he had wanted to record hours ago. Something impatient within him tugged to finally get on with it, but his eyes just didn't see the words in front of him and the insides of his head kept resembling a barren wasteland.
There was nothing good in his life anymore. There was nothing good in any of their lives anymore. He had ruined everything. Dragged everyone into the cage with him and locked the door because he hadn't known any better.
If he had just known...
But he hadn't and now they were all trapped here. Nothing waiting for them outside and nothing but hostility meeting them inside. At least that was the case for Jon. He didn't know if Tim and Martin still spoke, still sometimes joked with each other. If Melanie had made friends with Basira perhaps, or god forbid even Daisy. The two of them shared a frightening amount of bloodlust.
He doubted it, though. Whenever he dared to emerge from his office these days the atmosphere in the shared space of the Archives was tense. One or more of them were always gone, Basira more often than not sitting somewhere reading.
Neither of them did much work these days, Jon mused. It was funny that once upon a time that thought would have made him angry.
Jon sighed, glancing over the statement for the upteenth time, saying to himself that now he would finally start and do some work, when loud cursing and several crashes made him jump out of his chair and run towards the door.
He ripped it open with the wrong hand, the burn left by Jude Perry sending a stab of pain through his arm.
Basira, Tim and Melanie were for once all there, and had taken on various defensive poses. They didn't grace Jons dramatic entrance with even the slightest of glances, but the being that called itself Michael grinned and cooed as though it didn't have a knife, an axe and a gun pointed at it.
"Archivist! Just whom I wanted to see~ It is quite hard to get a grip on you, you know. I've been meaning to have a little chat with you for a while now."
Jon squeezed his eyes together to ward of the headache Michaels multiple voices and impossible features always gave him. He breathed through the pain, before looking at the Distortion again, squinting to be able to make out something that resembled a coherent form.
The image still swam in front of him, Michaels smile literally blinding, teeth flashing with too many deeply saturated colours.
"Hello Michael. What do you want?"
"Awww you don't sound excited to see me at all! I've got more of a reaction from your assistants."
The thing pouted, but the grin reappeared fast when it heard the click of the safety of Basiras gun coming off.
"Aha I wouldn't do that if I were you."
The voice it used screeched like nails on a chalkboard and a microphone with its volume set too high. Weapons clattered to the floor as everyone scrambled to shield their ears from the sound. Jon felt a trickle of blood running down the side of his neck and winced.
"There. Better. You people are so rude." The laughter that followed was worse than the voices before, high pitched and low, aggressively amused.
"Michael." Jon hissed and it stopped.
"Yes dear Archivist?"
"Why are you here?"
"Ah." A misplaced chuckle, alltogether fake and a hungry grin. "I've heard you've dealt with Not-Sasha! Congratulations! Do you want the real one back now?"
"What?"
Tim had recovered fast and somehow had already taken up the axe again. He looked more than prepared to chop Michaels head off with it.
"Oh hello! I forgot you were here, too. How did you like my hallways?"
"Fuck you! What are you talking about?!"
Michael shrugged, or what could be perceived as a shrug. It was hard to tell when there seemed to be three sets of shoulders all in various places they shouldn't be.
"It is as I said. I took Sasha into my hallways so she could flee from the thing in the table. And now that Not-Sasha is gone I'm willing to trade her."
"Trade her for what?"
Jon had a bad feeling about this, but he let Tim lead the conversation. Better he ask the questions. Jon didn't want to accidently use compulsion and make Michael angry.
"Why for the Archivist of course! I'm terribly bored at the moment. No good prey out there. And I'd love to see how my hallways work against someone from the Eyes ilk."
"So it would be a game to you." Jon was careful to not word it as a question.
Michaels blinding smirk hit him square in the chest and left him heaving. "Yes, you could see it that way."
"Jon." Basira warned, inching toward him.
Melanies lips were pressed into a thin line, her eyes never strayed from the Distortion, even when tears started to run down her face from the strain. She kept quiet, but it was clear that she would attack if she felt it to be necessary.
"And that exchange."
"Yes." Michael dared him to ask.
"What would it look like."
"No static! My you are truly making an effort! It goes like this. You come here and step into my door and I let Sasha out."
"Jon we can't trust him." Basira hissed.
"I'm an it, actually." Michael purred.
"Whatever."
"I know. I want to see her. Melanie, you know what Sasha looks like. We'll both verify."
"Hmmm, sounds like a deal. Come here."
Jon scowled at the crooked finger beckoning him to come closer. Michaels horrible 8 bit laugh echoed through the Archive again.
"Don't be shy. I won't stab you this time, I promise!"
"What." Tim sounded about as done as Jon felt.
He'd rather not have to explain himself though. He was glad Tim wasn't directing his ire at him at the moment. So he quickly crossed the distance and came to stand stiffly beside Michael, tensing when the entity curled three of its impossible long fingers around his elbow.
"Marvelous!"
Another door that had appeared in on of the shelves banged open and out of it stumbled a woman with clammy tanned skin, big round trendy glasses and warm brown wavy hair, her grey eyes open wide.
Tim stumbled forward to catch her, trembling about as much as her. "Sasha?"
He looked to Jon for confirmation, who had to fight back his own tears. "Yes. Yes."
"That's her." Melanie whispered her own affirmation.
Before the smile on Jons lips had time to fully form he was yanked back, the yellow door slamming shut behind him. It felt like being dragged into a whirlpool while high on LSD and if Michaels realm would have permitted it Jon would have lost what little food he had eaten that day right then and there.
As it was he had to endure the minutes or hours he had to get used to the shift in reality, unsure if he was standing, laying down or sitting. When his head eventually stopped spinning and his eyes and other sensory input systems agreed to work again he found himself standing at a deadend. The door and Michael were gone, but the air was still filled with joyous laughter.
"Welcome to my humble abode little Archivist! I hope you like getting lost~"
Jon frowned at his surroundings that seemed to tilt and wobble under his every step. He was sure Michael was being extra distorting with the surroundings it had thrown Jon into. Jon didn't want to give it the satisfaction of knowing how much that bothered him. Although he doubted he could hide his terror from it.
Time didn't matter in the Distortions halls. It all melted together, turning and twisting into a bizarre fever dream. Jon relaxed as much as was possible with the horrible migraine that had formed behind his eyes. This actually wasn't so bad. He would probably just wander around aimlessly until he would either die from hunger or thirst, Michael would grow bored and kill him or he actually found the exit.
Jon very much doubted the latter. He had no real grasp of his supposed powers and the Beholding only opted to drop in a fact or two about the colours that normal humans shouldn't be able to see.
When he didn't grow tired nor hungry or thirsty in what he presumed was quite a while a new fear formed beside the pounding in his head. What if he was stuck in here forever?
But even that terror dulled over what didn't quite account for time. The hallways got tamer. They were still decorated with garish colours and wallpaper, bits of furniture strewn about here and there. But they had stopped being all wobbly and impossible.
Well they were less impossible. Jon thought as he walked through a wardrobe only to emerge from a mirror into a room with six walls, three doors, a window and a painting.
On and on it went until he felt deep in his bones a rhythm to it all. There was a spiral pattern to the twisting turns of the rooms and hallways. Inverted and containing a lot of deadends, but it was there and all Jon needed to do was follow it.
Down and down he went, even when the path lead him upward or turned him upside down. His head started to feel blissfully empty for once. No worry, no greater goal. He could just exist here in this weird home and wander. He might be as lost as he had been in the real world, but at least here he wasn't hurting anyone.
Electrical lights flickered on and off before turning to torches casting pink shadows across the chessboard walls. He startled out of his haze when he heard the clacking of heels somewhere to his right, a thought thundering into his mind, shattering all other not thoughts that hadn't resided in there.
"Helen!"
"Jon?"
"Helen! I'm here. Stay where you are!"
Jon skidded around the corner and there she was, still wearing her business dress and jacket, chin length brown hair curling around her ears. She was sobbing before he could even get to her and soon he had an armful of crying real estate agent in his arms.
They held each other tight and just weeped for what felt like an eternity, but was still too short.
"I was so scared." Helen sobbed as she drew back just enough to fix her gaze on Jon. "I thought I walked out of the Institute, but instead I found myself back in these horrible hallways and I couldn't find a way out this time, but I just couldn't stop walking, you know? I needed to find some way out. And Jon, Jon! There's an end here. It's close I just know it! You believe me right? That's why you're here? You're also looking for the end?"
Jon rubbed up and down her arms to calm her. "Yes. Yes Helen. I'm so sorry. Had I known-"
"It's alright." She gave him a watery impression of a smile. "It'll be all alright soon. I hear it whispering. Come."
"Now that was quite the show." Michael suddenly stood between them and they sprung apart. It had its arms crossed and a deep frown carved into what could have been its face.
Jon couldn't exactly make out its eyes. And yet he was sure there was a spark of fear there.
"It was nice to play with you." Michael adressed Helen. "But I feel you overstayed your welcome."
A door appeared behind her, standing in the middle of the hallway, no walls around it.
"There is the exit. Shoo."
She looked at Michael with wide, glassy eyes. "No. No I can't. I need-"
And with a sudden, horrible clarity Jon knew what would happen if she didn't leave now. A door locked from the outside. The body of Michael Shelley destroyed. Helen lost.
"Helen. Please believe me when I say that this is better. Don't heed the call. It will only cost you."
Her flitted between Jon and Michael, hesitating. "Why?"
"Michael was human once, too." Jon whispered and understanding bloomed behind her eyes.
"Oh. But can I be sure?"
"I can." Jon assured her. "You can open that door. It's save."
She swallowed. "Okay. Okay. Are you coming with?"
She reached for him, but Jon shook his head. "No. I don't believe my game is quite finished yet."
He looked over to Michael to make sure. The Distortion looked back at him, frown lightened by a pensive look. It didn't feel the need to correct him.
"Okay." Helen said again, sounding like it was everything but. "You'll be fine, though?"
Jon gave her the best smile he could manage at the moment, which wasn't much. "I think so, yes."
"Good then. I'll... see you around. Just. Not here, I guess."
"Yes. Take care Helen."
"You too."
The door clicked softly shut behind her, taking with it the swift breeze of fresh air and gentle midday sunlight.
Jon sighed. "That was... something. Thank you for letting her go."
"Hmmm."
Jon felt a deep satisfaction at how uncomfortable Michael seemed to be at the moment.
"I guess I shouldn't continue to walk down, then?"
"You were walking straight."
"It's all the same here, though, isn't it?"
"Stop that." Michael frowned harder, drawing itself up, terror apparent in the way it shook, after images pulsing off it in waves.
"What?"
"Knowing me."
"Sorry."
"You could just walk back up again, you know." Michael muttered, friendly facade all but forgotten. A near death experience would do that to you. Jon could sympathize.
He nodded, indulgent. "I guess I could."
Michael heaved a sigh that sounded more like the blare of an airhorn. "I'll show you out."
Jon didn't deem it necessary to tell it that it could just manifest a door like it had done with Helen. He got that Michael probably needed a hot minute to digest what had just happened. And for once Jon was more than content with providing some company.
It was Michael who talked first, essentially giving Jon its statement. Jon saw the fierce anger burn behind those multicoloured eyes and was reminded of Tim and his fury at Jons betrayal.
"How much of Michael is there in you, then?" Jon carefully asked, voice so soft it was barely there in order to keep any sort of compulsion out of it.
"That's not the right question to ask Archivist. Because there is no answer to that, that would stay definite. How much of you is in those tapes you record? It's your voice in there. How much of you is actually you? There's no meaningful distinction."
"That doesn't sound right."
"That's because you're too deep inside your head." Michael laughed. It wasn't as grating as usual.
"Thank you for keeping Sasha safe, by the way." Jon whispered into the screaming silence that had enveloped the two as they meandered through the endless expanse of hallway stretching out in front of them.
"You are no fun."
"Pardon?"
Slim fingers crawled like worms across his shoulder. His head spun with a sudden dizzying motion, feeling oddly light. His skin tingled with confused nerves at the points of contact. Unconsciously he leaned into the touch loosing himself in the sensations. The Distortion was less scary now that he knew it. It was actually kind of sad and he might have formed a small grudge against Gertrude for it.
Michael huffed beside him, caught between grinning and frowning. Jon wondered which emotion the Spiral wanted to portray and which one actually belonged to what was left of Michael Shelley.
"That's what I mean. You're not afraid at all! You're enjoying yourself. That just won't do."
It nudged him forward and oh, there was a yellow door there. Jon stepped up to hit and hesitated, hand hovering over the handle.
"What is it now?" Michael grumbled behind him, pout evident in its voice.
"I... I'm not sure if... I'm not sure if it's alright for me to get out."
Michael blinked at him in surprise. Jon shouldn't have been able to see it, but the motion was reflected in front of him.
"I just don't know if it's a good thing that I'm out there. Something is going on with me and at least in here I'm not hurting anyone."
"You... don't want to get out? You like it here?" Shrill, disbelieving laughter filled every nook and cranny of their space, drilling into Jons head and hollowing out his skull. Michael was bent over in a spine breaking way, arms wrapped twice around it and shaking with manic chuckles when Jon turned to frown at it.
"Two people in a row wanting to stay." It giggled, rightning itself. "I really need to redecorate this place." It shook its head, smile sharp yet soft. "No Archivist I will not drag you around as deadweight. Not when you aren't even making an effort of being afraid."
Jon squeaked as he was lifted, knife hands nicking the skin on his cheek and temple. With a heavy thump Michael kicked the door to the Archives open, startling Tim awake, who had been slumped over the desk, facing the door.
"We're baaack!" Michael crooned. "I'll leave you to decide if the Archivist should stay." He dumped Jon into Tims lap, who was barely awake enough to grab at Jon before he slid off.
"But Jon, when you next step into my door I will not let you back out again. See you around~"
Jon tried to identify the exact moment Michael had left the room. It was a futile attempt and not at all enough to distract from the fact that he was currently still inhabiting Tims lap.
"I'm sorry I'll-" Jon tried to stand up, but the arms around him tightened and he was squashed unceremonously against Tims body.
"Jon"
Oh no. What had he done now? He just got here why was Tim already so mad? Was he mad? Oh good lord he was crying. Jon awkwardly turned so he could sling unsteady arms around Tims neck, letting the man bury his head into his shoulder.
"Uhm hi?" He'd really rather go back to Michaels hallways now, please. This was already starting out to be a situation much more terrifying than wandering forever in a fever dream.
"You absolute bastard!"
"Sorry?"
Tim laughed and it was a strange sound. Too normal after who knew how long in Michaels domain.
"No you don't get to apologize. Not when you don't even know what you've done." Tim stood, Jon scrambling to get his feet under him so he wouldn't crash.
Standing on even, unmoving ground was like coming back on land after a year at sea. Tim shaking him did not help his coordination.
"You've been gone for over three months. Over three months, Jon! We had to blow up the circus without you. Elias was pissed! But Sasha managed to McGyver together a remote control for the C4 and it was amazing! Pressing that button was probably the best thing to happen in my life!"
"Wait slow down." Jon mumbled, trying to keep up with Tims flood of exposition while simultanously trying to get Tim to stop shaking him. He was going to be sick at this rate.
Tim didn't seem to hear him. "And then everything was over and Sasha was there, but you still weren't. And that bloody door stayed here all the while, mocking us. It wouldn't open. We tried everything minus blowing it up, figured you wouldn't have liked that. Tried to hunt down other Spiral locations, but no odd door would open to us."
Tim took a huge breath and stopped shaking Jon, his grip tightening when Jon tried to put some space between them.
"We didn't know what to do. And then about a week ago Helen came in to tell us about what happened in the hallways. She's fine by the way. Apologized for waiting so long before coming by. She was sad to see you still missing, left her contact details and wants you to call her when your feeling like the world makes sense again, whatever that means."
Jon knew exactly what it meant. He was sure it would take him a while to make sense of anything that wasn't strobe light effects, after images and nausea. He would have liked to elaborate on that and point out that he really should sit down oh my god everything was spinning.
"We figured if she was out you'd come back, too. And we didn't want you to stumble into an empty Archive so we took turns watching the door. Do you know how hard it was to keep Martin from hogging all the night shifts? The man hasn't slept more than a wink in months I tell you. He looks about as bad as you so if you don't let him hug you and fuss I will play the most embarrassing prank I can think of on you next April Fools day, you hear me?"
Tim shook him once and Jon had to cough and force the bile back down his throat before he could answer.
"Quite."
"Good."
There was another shaky exhale and a much more tentative hug. "You look like shit, come on you can crash at my place."
"I too have a flat, Tim." Jon felt the need to remind him, but let himself be led to the front doors and to Tims car, grateful to finally be allowed to sit again.
"You just came back. No way am I letting you out my sight and give you the opportunity to vanish again. Sasha and Martin would have my head."
Jon frowned down at his hands, flinching when the car sprung to life and grabbing for an empty take out bag, just in case. Tims behavior deeply confused him. The last time he had mother henned him like this was back in Research. Did Michael accidently drop him in a different dimension?
"We're there."
How did Tim get to the side of his door? When had they started to move? When had they gotten to Tims flat? Good lord time didn't make sense anymore.
Jon half stumbled out of the car and followed Tim into his apartment.
"Make yourself comfortable boss. I'll get you some tea, yeah? And food. Try not to fall asleep on me yet. And don't wander off."
Where would he even wander off to? Jon wanted to ask. He forgot about that as soon as his body hit the hard surface of the couch. At least the pillow was nice enough to cushion his fall. Letting out a pitiful groan he levelled himself up again to take his glasses off, rubbing at the spots where the plastic had dug into his skin.
He was glad that Tim seemed to have calmed down during the ride. Maybe doing something had helped. Tim had always been an action guy, needing an outlet for all the pent up energy.
It all felt so surreal. Here he was, out of the hallways, in Tims flat, with Tim being nice to him and the apocalypse over and done with. He would probably get an earful for missing out on that one later. Probably from Melanie. Maybe from Basira and Daisy.
Gods they were alright. He was gone for so long and they were all fine. Maybe a bit more traumatized, if Tims behavior was anything to go by, but alive. And in this economy that was probably the best outcome they could get.
"Sasha, how is she?" Jon asked as soon as Tim came back into the room.
A rainbow coloured mug and a bowl of instant noodle soup was placed on the coffee table in front of him before Tim answered.
"She's amazing. I mean she's doing well. She was in way better shape than you coming out of there. But I guess you didn't exactly go in at the heighth of your power. She said she was afraid for awhile, that Michael would keep her forever. But she was also curious how the hallways worked and she kinda got lost trying to figure them out? She chatted with Michael whenever it popped up to gloat. It kept her updated pretty well actually, which is kind of creepy. I think out of all of us she had it the easiest."
"That's... that's so good to hear." Jon breathed.
Tim chuckled. It sounded suspiciously wet. "Yeah. Come on sit up and eat your shitty soup."
Before Jon could move on his own an arm curled around his waist and hoisted him into a sitting position.
"I can move myself, Tim." Jon grumbled, leaning heavily into Tims side either way. Just for the contact, he told himself. He could totally sit upright if he wanted to.
"Of course boss."
Tim turned on the TV as Jon ate, the soothing chatter of news reporter talking about the weather filling the air. Jon was half dozing, unsure if he had eaten much at all when Tim moved him again.
"You want to clean up before going to bed?"
Jon took stock of his body, weighting his options. It was as if his muscles only now began to realize the amount of miles they had walked. His scars itched and pulled and the cut on his throat as well as the burn on his hand pounded against the confines of his mangled skin. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, a bit of vertigo still throbbing in the back of his skull, while his ears still echoed faintly with piercing, inhuman laughter.
"No?"
"Okay. Sit tight boss I'm gonna get you a blanket."
Sit tight... Where did Tim think he would go, if he wasn't even up for taking a shower?
"You got better, too." Jon said in lieu of a thank you when a heavy blanket got draped over him.
"Hm. Blowing up a building helped."
"Ah yes, arson. The best therapy of all."
Tim laughed at that. "You'd be surprised. But actually I did get a therapist at Sashas request. I blew up at her a few times in between and she didn't take it well. I wanted to be better for her."
"Good." Jon mumbled, half asleep. "That's good."
"Yeah. Sleep well."
"Hmhm."
He woke up in the middle of the night. Or was it day? It was dark, but the curtains were drawn so he couldn't be sure. It wasn't to a full body flinch like he was used to waking up with. Just a slow, disorientated blinking into wakefulness.
The flinching came later, followed by a yell when he made out a blurry shape sitting in the arm chair mere inches away from him.
"Good Lord, Tim! What are you doing?!"
"Making sure you're not getting kidnapped." Was the brightly given answer.
"That's creepy." Jon grumbled, rubbing his eyes and settling his glasses back on the bridge of his nose.
"Well you're not the only one allowed to be spooky."
"M not spooky."
"Suuure. So Martin and Sasha will be by in a bit. Wanna tell me what all that about going back through Michaels door was about?"
Jon sighed. "He- it just threatened me."
"Really? Cause it kind of looked to me like it was kicking you out."
"I have it on good authority that I can be rather annoying, yes."
Tim crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at him. "Does that mean I and the others need to make sure you take the right doors from now on?"
"No?"
"That's not very reassuring, Jon."
"Why do you care all of a sudden?" It was said out of exhaustion and Jon immediately regretted it, seeing Tims face fall. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have said that."
"No." Tim took a shuddering breath, mussing up his hair with the hand that wasn't clutching at his own shirt. "No, that's fair. I've been an ass to you before... Fuck before you literally fed yourself to the Spiral in order to get Sasha back."
"You don't have to feel guilty about that."
"I do! But that's not just it. You've missed a lot. And I got better, but I'm still so angry most of the time. But when you were gone I was also fucking terrified. For Christs sake Jon we were friends once. And I just let you barter your life away like it was nothing. I was happy. When Sasha came back and you were gone I was even happy for a while."
Oh no he was crying again. They both were. He knew because Tim had gotten up to draw back the curtains before dropping onto the couch at Jons feet.
"I... it didn't last long. Call me selfish, but after a while all I wanted was for us to be complete again. You know the original four. It took me a bit to realize that I was mourning."
Tim barked out a broken laugh. "I've probably not slept about as much as Martin."
"You should then. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere at the moment."
"I can't. Every time I try I panic that you will be gone when I wake up."
Jon mulled that thought over in his head, an odd tingle flooding his body. "Lay down with me then?"
Tim stared at him for a moment, biting at his lip and barely stopping before drawing blood. "That... that sounds like an idea. Yeah. Let me draw the couch out first."
They could have just gone to bed, but Jon just about managed to drag himself to the armchair. And Tim hadn't offered so Jon wouldn't pry.
Tim collapsed on the couch and immediately reached out an arm and made grabby hands. Jon huffed out a small chuckle and obliged, trying not to seem too eager.
"We'll have to get up again when Sasha and Martin visit." Jon noted, snuggling into Tims chest with a sigh, whole body thrumming at the none violent contact.
"Sasha has a key." Tim muttered into his hair, spitting out some of the loose strands right after.
Jon shook his head. There seemed to be quite a lot he needed to be caught up on. And as they tangled their legs together Jon found that for once the future didn't look as threatening as it usually did.
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jasmehraj · 4 years ago
Text
Wedding au
A timinette.
This was a request from Huntressofartemis10. I hope you like it. I am thinking of making a part 2 of this story.
________________________________________________________________________________
Marinette was very excited. Today was the day, she will be finally wed. The day her dreams come true. The day when she will be Mrs. Agreste and she will have three kids and hamsters and and and....
"Girl I can hear you overthinking." Alya her best friend. I was so afraid I am going to lose my friends but she didn't. Adrien managed to convince Lila to talk with me and I admitted my defeat. She got everyone back. All her friends were back. Tikki wasn't very happy with it.
Me and Adrien grew close. He confessed his love for me on our 10th date. Kagami left the country but they were still friends. She was even coming to their wedding. When I told her about the wedding yesterday her eyes went wide, maybe Adrien forgot to tell her? and she hesitantly tried to tell me something... She said that she is going to be here tomorrow and then she hung up.
Lila, well Lila didn't even try to ruin it!! She was just smiling and said,"Congratulations."
I am also going to reveal my identity as MDC. Hawkmoth is still a threat so, the wedding is going to be in New York but I am not afraid because I have my friends to back me up.
Chloe talks to me every once a week. We are friends, she shows me the side she never showed anyone else. She always gets quiet when I bring up Adrien. She also tried to tell me something but I hung up because Adrien was calling me.
Now sitting in a flight to New York, her phone tinged, it was a message from Tim. She met him this month. He was a coffee addict just like her and sleep deprived. She loves hanging out with him. They both solve puzzles, mind-games, riddles and share coffee recipes. She doesn't know what relation she has with him but only thing she knows is that he understands her like no one else does. When she told him about the wedding he looked so lost. He excused himself quickly.
Luka just smiled a sad smile and congratulated her.
She was now sitting on a plane going to New York. She wanted to make her Wedding dress but Gabriel told her that she is going to be the face of Gabriel's brand after him and Adrien. So, she HAS to wear a Gabriel original. It was not what she wanted but she couldn't question. Adrien just gave her a small apologetic smile. She understood and obeyed that is what she is supposed to do. She looked at her phone. There were multiple messages from Tim and others but she didn't get time to read them because the voice of Pilot rang through the speakers.
The plane landed and she went to her room and started getting ready. It was time for her wedding. She sat in the limo and they made their way towards the hotel. There were many people there. Her father looked very sad. I took his arm and he led me inside. When I entered, Adrien wasn't there. Where is he? She looked everywhere. She can't see her friends either. Where are they? Many cameras were there. She was just standing there confusion clear on her face. Where are they?
Tim came in looking like he just came running from somewhere,"Marinette, don't hmphhh-" He was cut off when three guards came and held him one covering his mouth.
"Stop that I invited him."She dropped the bouquet. She was going to him but was stopped by a hand. He turned to look at Natalie,"Mr. Agreste has forbidden him to come here."
"He's my friend. Release him this instant."
"No, Marinette. Take him away." Tim was so done he just knocked them out. They were just three men he had taken care of bigger villains,"Marinette. Don't Marry Him."
"Why Tim?"
"Because-"
He was again cut off this time by Adrien,"Princess come here let's start the ceremony."
"No Marinette he is cheating on you." Everyone's head whipped towards Adrien.
"Marinette, princess I am not cheating on you. Why would I even do that? I love you."
The door flew open three figures came flying all in a purple attire.
"Kagami, Luka, Chloe."Marinette was panicking today was supposed to be perfect. What is the meaning of this?
"We are the truth. We take care everyone who lied and tried to hurt our friend."They went towards Adrien and surrounded him. Adrien suddenly started blurting out,"I don't love you. I just used you as a distraction when Kagami left me. You were never supposed to be successful. I wanted to ruin you. You will marry me ignoring everything because you are so deep in the fantasy world that you couldn't see me sneaking out at night, cheating on you everyday, you even ignored the fact that I call you princess which Chat Noir called you. I am Chat Noir. After we get wed, father will make you sign a contract that will make the brand MDC, every single penny his, mine. You will never get out of the house. You will be our prisoner. You will be a puppet who will be controlled and I will finally have my revenge when I'll see you cry." He gasped for air and then continued. "Kagami broke up with me because you pointed out Lila was a liar and that I knew she was, that I told you to take the high road. She broke up with me. Chloe stopped talking to me and that Luka, I wanted to get rid of him but he became famous, it became hard, sometimes I just wanted to cataclysm him. I never told them that I was dating you and I stopped you from mentioning that either. When you told them about the wedding they came flying to save you because they knew what I do every night.They told this scum-TIM too. I kicked them out but this scum somehow beated the security and came in here."
Marinette didn't know when she started walking, when she reached him. But when she did, she slapped him hard and took off his ring,"What-" He was cut off by another slap and another and another until he was unconscious. Then she ran away. The akuma following her. Tim ran to catch up to her and carried her bridal style. "Tim I-" Tim cut her off by putting a finger on her lips.
They somehow lost the akuma. He put her down. She couldn't cry now. No. She has a job to do.
She held out her hand to Tim," Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne. I am giving you the miraculous of Black Cat. Will you agree to fight alongside me and have my back to retrieve the miraculous from the hands of Hawkmoth? Do you agree?"
"Yes I do." He had a determined look on his face.
He put the ring on his finger. Plagg appeared and as soon as he did he was in her face,"Bug Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth. He did all of this so he can akumatize you to achieve his goal. It was his plan from the start."
Marinette turned to Tim,"To transform say, Plagg Claws out. To detransform say, Plagg Claws in."
He nodded,"Plagg claws out." He was now dressed in a cat themed suit but with a cape and a utility belt along with the baton.
She said,"Tikki spots on."Her dress changed. She was now wearing a much mature outfit with a full face mask and armored boots. She had multiple yoyos on her hips. She also had a dagger almost which was very hard to see near her yoyos."Let's go."
Tim followed her. They both reached near the akuma. It was still searching for Marinette and Tim.
"I think the akuma is in the stack of photos they came with as an evidence." She nodded and they get back to work. Ladybug called her lucky charm, It was a statue that looked like her but curled up. She immediately got the idea. She put her in an alleyway and told her plan to Tim. They called the akuma to follow them and it did follow them. They reached the alleyway and swung away but the akuma got distracted by the lucky charm. She tied them up mid-air using her yoyos. Tim cataclysmed the pockets of all three of them and a black butterfly fluttered out. She purified it and called her miraculous ladybug and everything was back to normal.
She looked at Tim to see he was searching for something in the baton. His ears twitched and he threw his head over her head calling cataclysm,"Be careful Ladybug, Hawkmoth is sending Akumas for you." She shut all the emotions she was feeling and turned to Tim,"What are you doing?"
"I am a detective, a hacker and an inventor. I am tracking Hawkmoth Aka Gabriel. AHA."
"You found him?" She looked at him.
"He detransformed and is at the wedding avenue. It is all over the news."
"Let's go."
They went through the front door. Gabriel was speaking to the reporters,"Don't listen to anything he said. It was under the akuma's influence-"
"Gabriel" Ladybug's voice was firm but strong that made every single person quiet down. Her parents came running to her,"Is our baby alright?"
"Yes, we have taken her to a much safer place." They looked loads relieved but still tense.
"Gabriel." She spoke again.
"Yes." She came near him.
"Why did the akuma attack your son?"She asked. All the while Tim stealthily reached behind him and pulled some tape from his utility belt. As he was talking to Ladybug he covered his mouth with tape and grabbed his arms. Many people came forward including the police.
"Back off." Ladybug showed the dagger threateningly. They all seemed smart enough. She ripped his tie off and snatched the miraculous. In her peripheral she saw Natalie trying to escape but she threw two yoyos one rolled around Natalie and the other was wrapped painfully on her open mouth drawing blood and stopping her mid sentence (Dussu-). She walked to her, the crowd parted for her. She pulled a chunk of her dress off. She was wearing the peacock miraculous. She ripped it off to and both were secured in her yoyo. They threw them with each other.
"Gabriel Agreste and Natalie Scouncer. I ,ladybug the guardian of the miraculous curse you for eternity for misusing the miraculous of butterfly and peacock miraculous and giving pain to them. Thus you will feel all the pain you ever gave to anyone, you will feel all the pain you've given to Paris and the miraculous together and you will never be able to wield the miraculous again. Citizens of Paris the reign of hawkmoth has thus ended."
Then she turned to the police,"Arrest them they are the terrorists who terrorized Paris for 6 years. You must have got the idea. You can search for Parisian news if you want to know what I am talking about." The police officer nodded. They cuffed both of them who were glowing and growling in pain.
"Miss. Dupain Cheng will reach the hotel along with her friends in an hour." The Dupain Chengs nodded.
"BUG out." "GOODBYE."
They both landed in an alleyway and detransformed. She immediately cried on Tim's shoulder. Tim doing the same as they hugged each other and Tikki and Plagg nudging their cheeks with sad faces.
This wedding was not what her dream was like. Even Adrien was not how her dream Adrien was like.
After an hour they both somehow reached the hotel. Their friends tackled them in a hug.
"I have to change this. I can't bear to wear this." Said Marinette. Everyone nodded.
They all changed their clothes and cried hugging each other and fell asleep. At least they were in this together.
________________________________________________________________________________
Tim is from another universe. He has yet to find a way back. Suggest me should I make a part or not?
Love,
Jasmehraj.
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ollieofthebeholder · 4 years ago
Text
leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic
Tumblr tag || Also on AO3.
Chapter 37: Martin Prime
It was weird hearing his fiancé arguing with someone who sounded like him but wasn’t, Martin mused idly. Like listening to a tape he didn’t remember recording.
It was also weird, and would probably always be weird, that he could tell the difference between Jon’s voice and Past Jon’s voice, at least when he was paying attention and not overly upset. Theoretically they were the same person. Practically, they were very different, just because of what they’d both been through. Jon’s voice had just the faintest rasp to it, the lightest bit of scarring on his vocal chords from both Daisy’s knife and Jane Prentiss’ worms, and Past Jon’s voice was a tad softer, less hardened by time and circumstance. The distinction in their voices was subtle, but it was enough.
“You knew about the bullet. You should have said something to her,” Jon said, for what was at least the fifteenth time in the last week. Martin could imagine him waving his arms as he did so. “If she gets shot because she didn’t know to avoid it—”
“It wasn’t like I had an opportunity in the conversation,” Past Martin protested. “I did tell her to be careful.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jon demanded.
From the stress on you, Martin guessed he’d turned the argument on someone else, and it was Past Jon who answered. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Oh, don’t worry, you’ll come back alive but with a ghost’s bullet in your leg that’s going to make you irrationally angry’? I did the best I could. We were recording.”
“I’ve told you before, the recorders aren’t the Eye—”
“Uh, I need to take this back to the library before it closes for the weekend,” Tim said, but it didn’t seem to make an impression on the argument that Sasha was now chiming in to.
“He’s right, you should have told her. Should have warned her against joining the Institute, too.”
“I can do that when she gets back,” Past Martin pointed out.
“I told Basira what was going on,” Sasha said.
“But not in relation to herself,” Past Jon said. Martin could imagine that being accompanied by an accusing jab of the finger,  but he wasn’t going to make assumptions. “Besides, that’s different. Basira is the type to weigh all evidence and theories against her options when making a decision. Melanie’s more the type to give in to emotion, especially anger. It’s impossible to tell which way she’d go if you gave her that kind of information first. It’s very likely to make things worse.”
“Don’t you Know at me, Jonathan Sims.”
Tim made a noise imitative of a supermarket’s tannoy crackling to life. “Manager to Mr. Kettle, manager to Mr. Kettle, there’s a Ms. Pot for you on line two.”
“Would that be the pot calling the kettle back?” Martin asked. He was rewarded with a choked-off laugh from Tim’s direction, but he was pretty sure nobody else in the room heard either one of them. With a sigh, he heaved himself out of the armchair. “Want me to come with you to take that book back? This is going to take a while.”
“Sure. We’ll be back, guys.” Tim evidently directed this at the others, but again, no reaction from anyone. He sighed. “Here, give me your arm. Bringing your cane?”
“Better not, just in case we run into someone. Get me to the stairs and I should be okay.”
The sound of the argument faded into the background as they made it to the steps; Martin let go of Tim’s arm and gripped the railing instead. By leaning forward, he could anticipate when they hit a landing. “Thanks. What’s the book on, by the way?”
“Oh, it’s one of the circus books. I—I know I’m obsessing a little about it. I know the circus itself isn’t the important bit, but…I don’t know. Forewarned is forearmed, I guess.” Tim was silent for a moment. “Unless it is something about circuses that are important.”
“No, not really. Just…an excuse, I guess.” Martin tried to put into words what even Jon had never asked his opinion on; there hadn’t been much of a chance before the Unknowing, and after it there hadn’t been much of a point. “I’ve noticed that’s one of the places the Stranger is drawn to, is the entertainment industry. Not just the circus, but the theater. I-I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s not the only one drawn to it. You know as well as I do the damn things overlap, like the bleed on the edge of colors.”
“Mm…hang on, I have a question, but we’re hitting the main floor. I’m gonna throw my arm around your shoulders like I’m telling you a bad joke, okay?”
“Thanks. And thanks for the warning.” Martin braced himself against the railing.
Tim’s arm came down heavily over Martin’s shoulders, and he turned his face towards him, hoping anyone passing them would assume he was engrossed in Tim’s extremely skewed sense of humor. True to his word, Tim picked up in the middle of a joke as they left the stairwell. “…the Brother Superior stands up as usual and sings, ‘Good morning, broooo-theeers.’ And all the brothers sing back, ‘Good moooor-niiiiiiing,’ except for the one little brother who’s rebelling. He sings out—”
“’Night, Martin,” a sweet, young-sounding voice called.
“Night,” Martin called back. It sounded like Manal, but he didn’t want to risk saying the wrong name and drawing attention to himself.
“Oh, hey, are you heading upstairs?” The voice got closer, and Martin and Tim drew to a halt. “This came in the mail drop for Mr. Bouchard. I meant to bring it up right away, but we got slammed with students and I forgot. Must be the first paper of the term coming up due. Can you give it to Rosie, please?”
“Sure, no problem.” Martin reached out uncertainly and—fortunately—touched a cardboard packet; he was able to grab it before it became obvious that was luck. He hoped. “Have a good night, Manal.”
“You too.”
Tim got them started walking again, continuing as he did, “Anyway, so the brother who’s rebelling sings, ‘Good eeeeeeve-niiiiiiing.’ A hush falls over the whole refectory. Brother Superior stands up, looks around the room, looks each brother in the eye, and then sings, ‘Someone chanted eveniiiiiiing…’”
Martin let out a long, protracted groan. “God, Tim, how long have you been sitting on that one?”
“Years,” Tim admitted sheepishly. “You’ve got to have the right audience for it, you know? Someone who both appreciate puns and knows enough about music to catch the reference.”
“If I could see you, I would hit you.”
“Must be my lucky day. Mind the steps.”
Martin switched the cardboard packet to his other hand in favor of the railing, and was surprised when someone tugged it away from his fingers. “Hey—”
“Sorry, should’ve warned you I was doing that,” Tim said. “I just figured it’d probably be better if I hand it off to Rosie, since…” He trailed off.
Since Martin couldn’t see her, wouldn’t know where to find her, and the last time he’d been in her office it had been…somewhat different. He tried to push the image of the top of the Panopticon out of his mind. “Yeah, probably for the best. If she’s still there.”
“She will be. Always one of the last ones out the door. Not sure how much of it is Elias keeping her to the last minute and how much of it is she doesn’t want to miss anything.” Tim paused. “Speaking of being unbearably nosy, wonder what Elias is getting from one of the Lukases that can’t be delivered in person?”
“They don’t like doing anything in person if they can help it, Tim. It’s kind of their whole…deal.” That close to Elias’ office, it didn’t feel safe to mention the Lonely out loud, or any of the fears, really. “I very much doubt we’ll find out, though.”
The railing didn’t level out—it just stopped, something Martin discovered when he almost pitched forward from abruptly not having something to lean on. He caught himself against the wall with a rather loud slap and thanked his lucky stars he’d always had a (mostly undeserved, to be honest) reputation as a klutz. Assuming anyone was still around, they’d probably just think oh, Martin tripped over his own two feet again, insofar as they thought about it at all. Rosie was probably watching, though.
That was confirmed—more or less—when Tim said in a bright, jovial voice, “Rosie! Good to see you. Can you give this to Elias? Manal asked us to bring it up.”
“Of course.” Rosie’s voice sounded just like Martin remembered it, and he curled one hand into a fist to stave off the memory of her staring up at them, face perfectly blank except for her eyes, somewhere between dazed and terrified, as she blandly asked if they had an appointment…
Not for the first time, Martin wished there had been any other way of protecting him from the Eye than by destroying his vision. Setting aside the usual, mundane difficulties that came with total blindness—difficulties any person faced with complete loss of sight would have to deal with—there was the simple fact that the last thing Martin had seen, live and in person, had been a post-apocalyptic hellscape. The last time he had seen the Institute, it had been a tower of black glass and twisted steel looming up into the stratosphere; the last time he had seen London, it had been swarming with very interested cameras and monitors and paintings of eyes; the last time he had seen the sky, it had seen him back. He could remember the way things had been before, but those last impressions were awfully powerful, and it hurt.
“Was there anything else, Tim?” Rosie asked. Martin frowned slightly. Under her voice was something eager, something…hungry. She wanted something, and he wondered what it was. He remembered Jon’s unwilling statement, where he’d talked about her constant desire for secrets—she could probably give Sasha a run for her money in terms of snooping, and no wonder Gertrude had always talked to her as if she was in the know. Was that all it was? Was she prying for secrets? Or—Martin bit his lip—was it possible she’d been taken over by the Not-Them, that she was drawn to Tim because of his Stranger mark? She sounded like he remembered, but if she were replaced in this past, would it replace his memories of the future, too?
He bit back a groan. Douglas Adams was wrong about the biggest problem to time-travel being grammatical tenses; clearly, the biggest problem was making sense out of the recursive nature of body-stealing, memory-altering creatures.
“Nope, that ought to do it. Gotta get to the library before they lock it up for the night. Have a good weekend, Rosie.” Tim knocked twice on something wooden, probably her desk, then came over and touched Martin’s arm. “Let’s go, Freckles.”
“Night, Rosie,” Martin called, because he would have before and Past Martin would too and there was no sense in making Rosie—or Elias, if he was still there—suspicious. He could imagine the false, charming smile she flashed in his direction, but there was no audible response and he didn’t expect one. Instead, he simply linked arms with Tim, let him lead him down the corridor, and prayed nobody had left a door open for him to run into.
The sensation of stepping into the library was instantly a familiar one to Martin—the feeling of stepping into a soaring, open space, but an oddly safe one—odd because of the sheer number of truly dangerous and terrifying works contained there. Any book with Jurgen Leitner’s bookplate on it was destroyed long before it got this far, of course, but even before he’d gone to the Archives, Martin had wondered if someone would be able to tell one of Leitner’s books if the bookplate was papered over or removed. Once he’d learned the truth, that Leitner had been a collector rather than the author or even the commissioner, he’d wondered how many books of power were actually in the Institute’s library. On the one hand, it didn’t seem likely that Jonah Magnus would allow any genuinely powerful books to get this far; on the other hand, it would certainly explain the library’s asinine and borderline ludicrous lending procedures.
Martin hung back by the door, sliding his hands into his pockets and hoping he was sufficiently out of the way of everyone bustling to get their assigned tasks completed so they could be out the door on time. Idly, he wondered who was on the desk. He’d usually ended up working it on Friday afternoons; everybody else hated it because, as Rebecca had once complained, there was always one person who came back with an enormous stack to return with ten minutes to go before they were supposed to clock out. Every book had to be checked against three different lists, certain inspections had to be made, and the identity of the person returning the book had to be checked twice. And it all had to be done by hand; every attempt to automate and bring in a computer had been met with catastrophic failure. Martin had actually kind of enjoyed it, especially since it usually meant he was left alone at the end of the week and could take his time, lingering over shelves and experimenting with the acoustics. If he thought he could get away with it, he might creep up here some evening after the Institute was closed and throw a few more songs into the darkness. It was different in the Archives.
“Well, hello there, Martin!”
Martin almost leapt out of his skin and whirled around, his heart pounding. “Jesus!”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” The voice was coming from roughly Martin’s height, but that was about all he could tell, that and that it was female. It had no distinctive characteristics, nothing to trigger a name in his mind. And yet, whoever owned it knew his name, which meant it was someone he should know. He’d have to bluff. “Haven’t seen you up here in a while.”
“Yeah, just—been busy,” Martin said lamely. He waved in the direction of the desk. “Kind of figured you’d be glad to see the back of me, to be honest.”
“Oh, now, why would you think that?” The woman, or at least Martin presumed it was the woman, patted him on the cheek with a soft, fleshy hand; he tried not to flinch at the unexpected touch, or the unpleasantly dry feel of her palm. “You’re such a hard worker, and always so cheerful. You’ve been missed, but I’m sure Jon appreciates having you in the Archives.”
If this was a joke, Martin didn’t think it was very funny, but he managed a smile anyway. “Well, we all had a settling-in period, but that’s in the past now. I do miss it up here sometimes, but I like being down there, too.”
“And we’re very glad to have him,” Tim said, suddenly right next to Martin. “C’mon, buddy, we’ve got a weekend to catch before it slips away…have a good one.”
“You, too, Tim. And you, Martin. Don’t be such a stranger—come back and visit us more often. We’d love to see you again.”
“Sure,” Martin said softly. “’Night.”
Tim didn’t say anything the rest of the way back down to the Archives, which Martin appreciated. Going down stairs was a hell of a lot more complicated than going up; he couldn’t lean as safely, and the kick-and-drag method was a bit less effective. It took concentration to keep from pitching forward and tumbling down the entire flight, and if he tried to spare any braincells for conversation, Martin was pretty sure he’d end up missing his footing. Tim’s hand at his elbow helped, especially since the main floor was crowded with people leaving for the day. A few called greetings to Tim, but they all ignored Martin, which was fine by him.
There was a sense, when they re-entered the Archives, of an argument put on hold, something that was confirmed when the first thing Martin heard anyone say was Jon’s voice. “What do you think, Martin?”
“Gender is a social construct, Shakespeare is overrated, and paisley is horrendously tacky no matter what color it is,” Martin replied promptly. Someone hastily turned a snigger into a cough.
“I mean, about whether or not you would have told Melanie more about what to expect in India.”
Martin felt around until he located a chair. “I think my opinion doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters,” Past Jon protested.
“Not in this.” Martin met Jon’s hand coming towards him and squeezed it gently. “What I would have done doesn’t have a lot of relevance here. It’s not our story anymore.”
“What?” Past Martin sounded genuinely confused. “Of course it’s—”
“I mean,” Martin said quickly, “that you’re not us and we’re not you. What I was like at this point in things isn’t anywhere near where you are, and vice versa. Same with Jon and your Jon. To be honest, I don’t even know if I would have made the effort to be friends. But at this point, things are different enough that telling you how we would do it isn’t very…efficient, I guess? It’s your story, your lives. You’re the ones shaping it. Trying to do things the way we wish we’d done it…well, if the circumstances aren’t the same, it won’t have the same outcome necessarily. You’ve got to do what you think is best.”
“That’s…a good point, actually,” Jon admitted. He sighed. “I apologize for lecturing.”
“’S all right,” Past Martin said. “Gave me a chance to stand my ground and all.”
“Which you need to do more often,” Tim said cheerfully. “Anything to boost your self-esteem.”
“Ouch, Tim, really?” The effectiveness of Sasha’s reproof was lessened by the obvious smirk in her voice.
“Yeah, okay, I probably shouldn’t have said it like that, but it’s true. I’m not completely oblivious, you know. I can put the pieces together, and from the little you’ve said about working in the library, I got the impression you thought they hated you up there. Especially Diana.”
“They did,” Past Martin protested. “The only one who ever even spoke to me directly was Diana, and even that was just to give me orders. It’s hard not to know someone hates you when their method of asking you for help is to wait until you’re in earshot and then tell someone else to ‘just leave that for Martin, he’ll fumble his way through it eventually’.”
“Did they really do that?” Jon asked quietly.
“Constantly,” Martin affirmed. “Speaking of, Tim, who the hell was that who was talking to me while you were checking that book back in? I didn’t recognize the voice.”
“Wait, seriously?” Tim said with an audible frown.
Martin sighed. “Look. Down here it’s pretty easy to tell who’s talking. You’ve all got pretty distinct voices from one another. It’s hard to tell my Jon and your Jon apart if I’m not concentrating, but there’s enough of a difference and I know you well enough to be able to figure it out, usually. But out there? If it’s not someone with a distinctive pitch or accent or speech pattern or whatever, it’s hard to tell. And something like ninety percent of the people who work here speak with the exact same voice. About all I could tell was that I was talking to a woman.”
“I guess that makes sense. Just figured you’d recognize Diana’s voice when you heard it.”
“Pretty sure I would. So who was that?”
There was a half-second’s pause before Tim said, “Diana.”
“Diana?” Martin repeated incredulously.
“You’re sure you didn’t recognize her?”
“No, and it’s not just the accent. I didn’t think the ladders got that close to where I was standing.” Martin rubbed his forehead. “God, my mental map of the library is all off now.”
Jon wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him close. Tim sounded bewildered. “What do ladders have to do with anything?”
“It sounded like whoever was talking to me was around my height. I mean, that could’ve been the way sound bounces in the library, but—”
“No, that’s—she is around your height. She always intimidated the hell out of me.”
Martin sighed. “Okay, I think we’re talking about two different Dianas here. Which Diana was this I was talking to?”
“Diana—what the hell is her last name? The head librarian?”
“Caxton,” Past Jon supplied.
Something cold trickled down Martin’s spine. “Describe her.”
“Uh—tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair that she usually wears piled up on top of her head, looks like a Quentin Blake illustration come to life—?”
“That’s who the artist is! I can never remember his name,” Sasha said, punctuating the remark by—from the sound of it—slamming her open hand against the desk.
“That’s not Diana Caxton,” Past Martin said decidedly. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, or why she would have told you she was, but—”
“It’s the Diana Caxton I know,” Past Jon said. “And you should, too. She was there when I took Melanie up the first time, said they missed seeing your smiling face up there.”
“Look, that’s not Diana,” Past Martin insisted. “I should know. I worked there for ten years, Jon. She’s shorter than five feet tall, her hair’s been completely silver for a while now, and she has a Korean accent. I don’t know who this woman is you’re describing, but it’s not Diana Caxton.”
Jon tensed, his arm tightening around Martin’s shoulders. Softly, he said, “I think it is now.”
There was a moment of horrible silence as that sank in. Martin had to admit that the idea of the Not-Them taking over Diana hadn’t even occurred to him. He’d just…assumed that if it was anyone, either it would be someone in Artifact Storage foolish enough to disregard the warnings or it would be Rosie. And, okay, maybe there’d been a foolish little part of him that had hoped it wouldn’t take over anyone. But somehow, the idea of it being Diana Caxton just felt wrong. It was true that she hadn’t liked him all that much when he’d worked for her, but then, he’d been unqualified and incompetent, bluffing his way along, and she’d likely had to pick up a lot of his messes. And he knew for a fact that the twice-widowed bookworm had a flock of grandchildren who adored her—he still remembered the day her youngest had come to visit, just before he’d been transferred to the Archives, and attached herself to Martin with a thousand innocent questions and bragging stories about “my Nana”. It wasn’t fair for anyone to be taken by that thing, but especially not someone like Diana.
There was a banging noise, like the Archives doors had just blown open, and Martin jumped, clutching at Jon’s arm. His first thought was that it was the Not-Diana, having realized they knew, coming to take them out. His second was that it was Elias, the jig would be up, and they would have to try and implement their plan now, and what if Jon wasn’t strong enough to do what had to be done and—
“Basira?” Sasha said, sounding somewhere between shocked and relieved. “What are you doing here?”
Oh. Martin relaxed, but not much. There was absolutely no hiding his or Jon’s presence. Past Jon sounded nervous as he said, “I can explain about—”
“Save it. I don’t care.” There was a thump and a rattle as Basira—her voice was unmistakable, too—dropped something on the desk in front of them. “Here.”
“Are those the tapes?” Past Jon asked.
“As many of them as I could get,” Basira replied.
“What happened, Basira?” Sasha’s voice was gentle, but—surprisingly—there was no static in it, even though Martin could almost feel it building in the room. It hit him, suddenly, that Sasha’s ability from the Eye didn’t enable her to ask for secrets. Only to take them. He decided to keep that particular unpleasant realization to himself for the moment. “I thought you said you were done with the Institute.”
Basira let out one of those frustrated noises Martin, unfortunately, knew all too well. “They’re covering it up. Altman’s death. Saying he was dirty. That he got stabbed in a drug deal gone wrong.”
“Wait, so the operation you went on—” Past Jon began.
“Doesn’t exist. I mean, I didn’t know Leo well, but…it’s not right. And they seemed happy enough to get me out the door.”
Someone poked at the box, if the rattle was any indication; Martin guessed it was Sasha, since she spoke again. “So why bring us the tapes?”
“Well, they’re sure as hell not going to solve Gertrude’s murder,” Basira said. “And from what you said the last time I was here, they’re probably of more use to you anyway, even if her death’s not in here. Before, I guess I had enough police in me not to steal evidence, but…”
“They’ve rather lost your loyalty,” Jon supplied softly. Martin slipped his arm around his waist and pulled him close.
“You won’t get in trouble for this, will you?” Tim asked, actually sounding concerned.
“Don’t think so. Daisy knows I’m bringing them to you. They won’t know they’re missing until they do inventory, and then only if they check the sectioned stuff.”
“Thanks, Basira,” Sasha said. “I owe you a drink or two. Just say the word.”
“Long as you promise not to talk shop,” Basira replied. “If I never hear another thing about this place…that’ll be enough for me.”
Martin heard footsteps starting to retreat across the Archives floor. Impulsively, he called out, “Basira.”
The footsteps stopped. “What?”
Martin looked in what he hoped was the right direction to look her in the eyes. “Keep her close. You’re her tether, and excuses only carry you so far.”
It was the same thing he’d said to her, once upon a time and simultaneously in a nonexistent future, loitering in the hallway of an abattoir outside an instrument room. She hadn’t wanted to listen then, and if he was honest, he hadn’t really taken his own advice all that well. He could only pray she would listen now, and that she would understand what he was talking about—and what he wasn’t saying. Don’t let your partner turn into a monster because it’s easier than saying stop.
After a moment, Basira said, her voice so soft it almost wasn’t audible, “Right.” With that, evidently, she left the Archives.
Jon pulled Martin around and wrapped him in a tight hug; Martin could feel his face pressing into his shoulder as he hugged him back. He, at least, had understood. They held each other for a moment, both hoping—despite what she’d done to them months ago—that Daisy could still be saved.
There was another rattle as someone poked at the tapes. “Where do we start?” Sasha asked.
“We go home,” Tim said firmly. “It’s Friday, and it’s past quitting time. Let’s just—let’s just go home, take the weekend to regroup, and we can come back and look through these on Monday. Maybe, um, maybe you two can go through and pick a few you think we ought to listen to.”
“Or,” Jon suggested, “we can sort them out. Gertrude labeled some but not others. If I set the blank ones aside, that might be good practice for you to sort out the color muddle. If that’s all right.”
“Either way, Tim’s right,” Past Jon said softly. “It’s late and we’re all tired. Especially…now. Let’s just go home. We’ll see you on Monday.”
Everyone wished one another goodnight, and the team departed, leaving Jon and Martin alone in the Archives. Martin waited a moment, then asked, “Do you want to start looking through them now?”
To Martin’s surprise, Jon hesitated for a minute, then said, “No. I think I want to put these in the Archivist’s office, and then I want to take a walk with my fiancé and maybe go out to dinner. What do you think of that?”
Martin smiled. He could feel himself blushing a little, but he didn’t care. “I think that sounds like an excellent idea.”
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much-obliged-timothy · 3 years ago
Text
Dad Tim & Uncle Rhys Part 10
I can’t believe this self-indulgent little writing has hit 10 parts already! This particular entry...didn’t go to plan at all, but that’s writing for ya. Thanks for following this little project into the double digits!
Tim was getting overwhelmed, and Rhys knew it.
He tried to ease Tim’s workload subtly, splitting up some of his assignments where he could to give him a break. He took on more meetings to cut Tim a break. He extended whatever deadlines he could.
But Tim was still struggling, and Rhys suspected it had to do with Phoenix. The boy had been absolutely exhausted lately, often clinging to Tim and falling asleep on him. Tim tried to casually dismiss it as him having a fit of nightmares, something that apparently happened from time to time. 
Even as Phoenix seemed to improve, though, Tim didn’t. He just looked increasingly exhausted and stressed, his patience thin most days. Rhys could see him making a visible effort to control his temper during meetings. 
The office door opened and Rhys looked up as Tim came in, Phoenix trailing behind him. Tim had dark bags under his eyes, but he nodded a greeting to Rhys as he sat down across the desk from him.
Phoenix was focused on a bag of snacks, struggling to tear the package open. He didn’t ask for help, so Rhys left him to it.
“Here,” Tim said, passing Rhys a report of his latest meeting. “Negotiations went terribly, but we secured the key areas of the deal. We scheduled a follow-up meeting for next week.” He rubbed his temples. “Shit, it went terribly. Every time I think I’ve met the douchiest businessman, another one comes along to claim the title. Fuckin’ headaches, all of them.”
“Dad, the ‘f’ word,” Phoenix said without looking up.
“Your ears didn’t burn up and fall off in horror. It’s fine,” Tim said. “Seriously, though, that guy was a dick. And the woman with him? I thought she might slit my throat with her damn heels when I wouldn’t budge on the price.”
Rhys flipped through the report, scanning it for the key points. “Good work, Timothy. Thank you. Why not take a break? Head home early. This was a big win.”
“Can’t,” Tim said. “Got a smaller meeting with the development team in an hour.”
Shit, Rhys forgot about that. “I can go.”
“My life isn’t that simple. You don’t have the information from the last two meetings with them. Gotta be me,” Tim said. He looked ready to collapse at the thought of more arguing and stubborn businessmen. 
“Well, take a break until then,” Rhys suggested. “Go take Phoenix out for lunch somewhere. If you’re running a bit late getting back, I’ll cover for you.” 
“That’s alright. I can use the time to prep for the meeting so it doesn’t drag as much,” Tim said. “Maybe I can-”
“Dad!” Phoenix tugged at Tim’s arm, holding up his snack bag. “Can’t get it. Help.”
“I was talking, Phoenix!” Tim snapped. “You don’t interrupt people when they’re talking. Your stupid snacks aren’t important enough to forget your damn manners.”
Phoenix shrank back. At the sight of his surprised fear, Tim’s anger faded.
“Oh- no, hey, no. I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry,” Tim said. “Here, let me see. Let me help you get them open. I’m sorry I yelled. Guess we both have to work on our manners, huh, pal? You shouldn’t interrupt people, and I shouldn’t yell. Start over?”
Phoenix shook his head, backing away. “I’m not hungry no more. Sorry.”
He retreated to the corner, bear clutched to his chest. Tim put his face in his hands for a moment, taking a deep breath before lifting it.
He got up and slowly approached Phoenix, kneeling down in front of him. “Hey, I really am sorry I yelled at you. That wasn’t fair. Can I help you open your snack?”
“Don’t want it,” Phoenix mumbled.
“Well...I’ll go get your lunch. How about that? You’ve got to be hungry,” Tim said, getting up. “I’ll be right back.” He passed Rhys’ desk, pausing to look at Rhys and mutter, “I’m so shit at being a dad. I don’t even think I remembered to bring his lunch. Buy me time while I run to the cafeteria.”
He hurried out of the office. Phoenix waited a minute before getting up and sheepishly going up to Rhys, holding up his snack bag.
“Can you help me, boss guy?” he said. “Um, please.”
“Tim offered to help you,” Rhys said, but took the bag. He tugged at it, but the damn thing wouldn’t rip, so he saved his dignity by cutting it open with scissors and passing it back to the kid.
“Thanks,” he said. “Dad’s been mean lately. He yells a lot. And then he says sorry, but he always yells again.” His shoulders hunched, making him look even smaller than usual. “I don’t like when dad yells at me.” 
“He’s been stressed lately,” Rhys said. “I don’t think he means to yell. He yells at people around work, too. He’s not actually mad at you.”
“Mom says he can’t help it,” Phoenix said. “She said he’s got that asshole’s DNA so sometimes he can’t control his temper. But I still don’t like when he yells at me.”
The door opened and Phoenix froze, but eased up a little as Lorelei came in. She brightened at the sight of him.
“Phoenix!” she said. Then she frowned. “What’s got you looking so sad, little guy?”
“Dad yelled at me again ‘cause I forgot my manners,” he mumbled, grip tightening on his snack.
“He yelled at you?” Lorelei said in surprise. “I’ll kick his ass. Of course you forgot your manners. You’re only...um…” She paused, furrowing her brow. “Well, if he was in that casino for seven years, and you were cookin’ in the womb for nine months...Whatever, you’re younger than seven. I’m a lot older than that and I forget my manners.”
“As shown by you not knocking on the door,” Rhys said.
“Tim wasn’t in his office, so I figured I’d find him and the kid here,” Lorelei said, holding up a soda. “I brought Phoenix a present.”
Phoenix was staring at her nervously. “Don’t hurt my dad! He didn’t mean to yell!” 
“I’m not really kickin’ his ass, kid,” she said, handing him the soda. 
“You won’t hurt him? You won’t hurt my dad?” Phoenix said anxiously.
“Not a scratch on him, you have my word,” she assured, taking Tim’s abandoned seat at the desk. “Where is the big idiot anyways?”
“He went to get lunch for Phoenix,” Rhys said. “I’ve been trying to cut back his workload to give him a break, but it’s been tough. His position gives him a lot of work, no matter what I try to do to help. And I think he…” He paused, glancing at Phoenix. “I think he’s struggling a bit with the whole single parent thing.”
“I made dad mean?” Phoenix said, voice small. 
“No!” Rhys said hastily. “Just that being a parent is a lot of work. Uh, probably. I don’t actually have kids.”
“Not helping,” Lorelei said. “Listen kid, what he means is that your dad is dealing with a lot. He’s got his work, he’s got to take care of you, and he’s got to take care of himself. That’s a whole lot on his plate.”
“I can take care of myself!” Phoenix insisted.
“Nope, you can’t. And that’s fine. You’re a kid. Kids aren’t supposed to take care of themselves. It’s a parent’s job to take care of their kid,” Lorelei said. “And if he’s struggling to do that on top of everything else? Then it’s his responsibility as an adult to ask for help. It’s got nothin’ to do with you, and he shouldn’t take it out on you.” 
“He’s been taking it out on everyone,” Rhys said. “Uh, not that that’s really a defense in his favor, but still.”
“It’s no wonder the guy’s breaking down. He’s been out of that casino how long now and still hasn’t dealt with the trauma of it?” Lorelei said, kicking back in the chair. “I think he’s just using the kid as an excuse not to deal with his own trauma. It’s not fair to either of them.” 
“I was thinking that too,” Rhys admitted. Tim poured all his time and energy into work and Phoenix. Anytime someone tried to talk about how the casino had affected him, he’d dodge the topic. 
The office door opened and Tim came in, a to-go bag from the cafeteria in his hands. “Hey, Phoenix. Sorry I took so long. Oh, hey, Lorelei. Spoiling my kid again?”
“Someone’s gotta cheer him up after you brought his mood down,” she said.
Tim winced. “Ah, right. That.” He went over to the desk, setting the bag down and kneeling in front of Phoenix. “Want to head back to my office to eat lunch? I grabbed food for both of us.”
Lorelei lightly kicked Tim in the thigh. “He can stay here if he wants. You both can. I’ll grab ya a coffee.”
“It’s my office!” Rhys argued.
“You pretend you mind, but we all know you don’t,” Lorelei said dismissively.
Phoenix looked scared as he tentatively reached out and touched Tim’s knee. “Dad? Can I talk?”
Tim looked pained for a moment. “Of course you can. I’m sorry I yelled at you, Phoenix. You shouldn’t interrupt someone’s conversation, but god knows I’ve got poor manners and social skills too. We’re working on it. So I shouldn’t have yelled over it. Please, talk to me.”
Phoenix threw his arms around Tim’s neck, hugging him tightly. “Dad, ask for help! Boss guy and Lorelei will help you! Then you don’t gotta yell all the time. And I’ll take care of myself so you don’t gotta be stressed.”
Tim hugged him back, looking between Rhys and Lorelei. “Oh, jeez, what did you tell my kid while I was gone?”
“That you need to ask for help,” Lorelei said. “Because we can all see you need it.”
“I don’t!” Tim snapped.
“Exhibit A,” she said.
“Daddy, don’t yell at them! They wanna help!” Phoenix said.
“Oh, god, he never calls me that unless he’s really sad or scared,” Tim groaned, hugging him tighter. 
“I don’t want you to yell anymore,” Phoenix said quietly. “You need help.”
“I...guess I do,” Tim said reluctantly. His eyes widened. “I mean, no, I can handle this. I really can.”
“Tim, you’re dealing with a stressful job, your son’s trauma, your own trauma, and trying to raise a little kid by yourself,” Rhys said. “I know Ember’s in his life. But you’re the one raising him right now.”
“But-” Tim said weakly. “He needs me.”
“That’s the excuse you’ve been using,” Rhys said. “He does need you, but not at the cost of your own health and sanity. Let us help you.”
“You said you want to help his separation anxiety, but I think you’ve got a case of it yourself,” Lorelei said. “You’re afraid to be away from him.”
Tim’s hold on Phoenix became protective, his expression scared and defensive at the accusation. But now that it was out there, Rhys realized it was true.
Tim was just as afraid to be away from Phoenix as Phoenix was afraid to be away from Tim. Rhys hadn’t realized just how unhealthy them constantly being together actually was for both of them.
“Timothy, let us help you,” he said. “Let me take Phoenix for an afternoon. I’ll take him somewhere fun.”
Tim looked like he was going to yell again. Lorelei shot him a glare.
“Rhys and I will both take him. He’ll be perfectly safe,” she said.
“Some of the employees you work with are going to the bar for drinks and trivia. Go with them while we take Phoenix.” Rhys sighed. “You both need it. If you actually care about him getting better, you’ll let us help. At this rate, his separation anxiety will be so ingrained in him, he’ll never make it in the world on his own.”
That seemed to break Tim down. He pressed a kiss to Phoenix’s head, rocking with him a little.
“Okay,” he said at last, voice strained. “Yea, okay. But...But you have to check in with me. And if he gets too upset, you bring him back to me.”
“You won’t yell anymore if I go with boss guy?” Phoenix said, looking afraid.
“You and your good ol’ Uncle Rhys will have a day doing...something. Something safe,” Tim said. 
“Without you?” His hold on Tim tightened.
“You’re the one who wanted me to ask for help,” Tim said, brushing Phoenix’s hair away from his face. “I guess this is the help. Life’s a cruel mistress, huh?”
“It’ll be fun, Phoenix! We’ll do something fun, I promise,” Lorelei said. “And at the end of the day, you can go home and tell your dad all about it and he’ll be so happy you had fun.”
“You will?” Phoenix said.
Tim forced a shaky smile. “Yea, pal. I just want...I just want you to be happy.” He pulled him in for another tight hug. “Sorry I yelled. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Phoenix said, resting his head on Tim’s shoulder. “I knew boss guy and Lorelei would help you, dad.”
“You’re smarter than me,” Tim said with a weak laugh. “Get your brains from your mom and your mouth from your dad.”
Rhys watched the pair, worried about them. Phoenix was doing better in a lot of areas, but the two still hated to be away from each other. Tim was fine in the office because he knew Phoenix was with Rhys. But outside of work?
No, they even slept together. Tim was never away from his son. He had grown just as dependent on Phoenix and Rhys felt terrible he hadn’t realized it until Lorelei said it.
“We’ll get them on track,” Lorelei assured him with a wink, seeming to pick up on his thoughts. “Better start finding safe, fun things around the area. Something tells me we’ll need Timothy’s approval before we can kick this off.”
Rhys had absolutely no idea what to do around here that was both safe and fun for a kid. But he’d find something. He might pretend he hated the title of Uncle Rhys that they’d granted him, but he knew he did care about Tim and Phoenix.
He’d find something that would make Phoenix have so much fun he wouldn’t even miss his dad that much. Rhys would give the boy that and help the pair.
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eldritchteaparty · 4 years ago
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Chapters: 3/? Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Rosie Zampano Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I'll add characters and tags as they come up, Reference to injuries and blood, Character Death In Dream, Nudity (not sexual or graphic), Nightmares
Summary: Following the events of MAG 200, Jon and Martin find themselves in a dimension very much like the one they came from--with second chances and more time.
Chapter summary: Martin and Jon go "home" to clean up, recover, and decide what to do next.
Read on AO3 above or read here below!
Tumblr master post with links to previous chapters here
***
They made it to the flat without much trouble. It was within easy walking distance, an unimpressive one-bedroom, virtually interchangeable with anywhere Jon had ever lived. It was also just as stark, but they didn’t waste time looking around. Instead, they headed straight to the bathroom. Being clean was the only thing Martin wanted more than sleep.
He got a look at himself in the mirror for the first time. Beneath the layer of dirt and blood and whatever else that he’d expected, he noticed a dark red mark on his skin, peeking just above the neck of his jumper. He pulled down at the collar, trying to get a better look at the apparent injury, but the full line of it extended well below where he could reach without taking it off. He recalled how the shirt he’d removed earlier had been torn and bloody around the shoulder, but at the time he’d just assumed that was from Jon.
He turned on the water in the shower to let it get hot, and left Jon to undress on his own as he steeled himself for whatever he was about to find. He pulled the jumper up over his head and was finally able to view the whole thing. It was completely healed, of course, but it ran from the top of his chest back over his collar bone and partway down the right side of his back. Parts of it were smooth and barely noticeable, but there were a few parts where it looked like the skin had been torn wide open—jagged edges that had healed poorly, like they had been stitched back together without being lined up properly.
He was so engrossed in it that he startled when Jon touched his shoulder.
“Hey.” He started to turn toward him, but Jon stopped him.
“You should—here.” Jon ran a hand down Martin’s arm to a spot on his forearm, just below his elbow, where he felt around for a moment. “Right there.”
Martin touched the spot, and found a small, hard ridge that stood out from the bone. He didn’t remember that, and it didn’t match the same place on his other arm.
“What—what is that?”
“It… broke.” Jon met his eyes in the mirror. “Before we came here. I’m sorry. It was a clean break, though. Also… here.”
He touched another spot on Martin’s back, which he turned to see, craning his neck to get a good look at it in his reflection. It was another scar, left over from what would have been a very large, deep gash, about halfway down his spine.
“Wait.” Martin took Jon by the shoulders; there was no way Jon had escaped undamaged if he looked that bad. He inspected his chest, his neck, then turned him firmly to look at his back, which Jon tolerated reasonably well—better than Martin would have given him credit for, anyway. Beyond the scars he already knew about, he only found evidence of a few smaller scratches, and wasn’t sure he believed it. He kept searching.
“Martin, I’m fine,” Jon sighed.
“I wouldn’t say that.” Martin pressed his hand pointedly to the stab wound on Jon’s chest.
“I meant”—Jon finally moved Martin’s hands away—“that I didn’t get hit when the tower went down.”
“How?” Martin asked. “I mean, look at me. How is it even possible that you—”
“Because you wouldn’t let go.”
Oh.
Martin wasn’t used to finding out he’d done something right. Once he unfroze, he was so grateful that he ended up pulling Jon into him, which he almost never did when Jon wasn't dressed. Thankfully Jon welcomed it, and allowed himself to be held, even leaned into it. It felt nice to be so close, to feel Jon’s skin on his, to be relaxed and warm from the steam of the shower that had finally heated up. He could have stayed there like that for a long while, and under normal circumstances he would have insisted on it; this time, though, the need to wash up won out.
“You go first,” he told Jon as he pulled away. “I can wait.”
“Absolutely not. I don’t think we’ll stay awake long enough for that.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Oh, for god’s sake. It’s soap and water. No, I don’t mind.”
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to shower with Jon. He supposed part of him still wasn’t sure where the lines were, what would make Jon uncomfortable, although they had taken a bath together at Upton. Several, actually, just because they could. That had been a little different, though; they’d had a large garden tub and plenty of room. Plus, although he’d seemed happy enough about it at the time, he wasn’t sure Jon even remembered it.
If he’d understood what taking a functional shower together was going to be like, though, he wouldn’t have bothered worrying about it. First, there wasn’t enough room for two people to stand under the water at the same time; second, if the shower was at the right height and angle for him, it definitely wasn’t right for Jon, and vice versa. They only had one bar of soap between them, and there was a lot to scrub off. The water at the bottom of the tub ran almost black for the first few minutes. He was grateful to find that Jon was at least well enough to wash himself. Martin only helped a little with his hair because, well, he wanted to—plus it sped up his turn with the shampoo.
Martin would have been happy to go straight to sleep when they were done, but as soon as Jon sat on the bed his stomach interrupted with a noise that went well beyond a growl. “Right,” Martin said, pressing a hand to his forehead. He was still pretty hungry himself, and Jon hadn’t even finished the peaches. “You stay. I’ll go see what there is to eat.”
There wasn’t much in the cupboards, and Martin didn’t think it was possible to be hungry enough to try the fridge after two months, but he did find a couple of ready meals in the freezer that didn’t look too bad. He heated them up and returned to the bedroom to find Jon face down with his legs tucked up beneath him, head toward the foot of the bed, in what he assumed was a failed attempt to stay awake.
He did have to keep an eye on Jon while they ate, as he kept closing his eyes with the fork halfway up to his mouth, but was glad to see that his appetite was good. Finally, when they had eaten what they could, he set the trays aside and wrapped his arms tightly around Jon as they lay down. At least he didn’t have to worry about keeping him up.
The next few days were like a long fever dream. They did wake up occasionally, sometimes apart, sometimes together, for maybe an hour at a time. When they did, their top priority was more food. Martin managed to have groceries delivered, which he was quite proud of.
When they were able to accomplish anything, they left scrawled notes for each other on the single pad of paper they found on Jon’s desk. At one point, Jon completely emptied their bags of clothes again and came out with a second phone that had apparently belonged to Martin. That’s useful, Martin thought when he saw that particular note. There was another little scribble off to the side that looked like it read “wallet.” Probably also useful, Martin thought, shoveling another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.
Mostly, though, they slept. The best was when they didn’t dream. When Martin closed his eyes and he woke up and time had passed and he felt a little bit less tired, and he could look at Jon breathing deeply or even snoring a little and he could close his eyes again—that was ideal.
When he dreamed, it was usually not too bad. It was different than it had been. He knew he’d had nightmares during the apocalypse, but he never remembered them; it was always Jon who told him about them later. Here, at least, the dreams were his, and he did remember them, sometimes. Sometimes they were the same ones he’d always had, meaningless, dreams about building things or walking aimlessly through empty hallways or even the one where he forgot to show up for an exam. Those were fine.
His bad dreams, though, were bad. He relived things he hadn’t wanted to live the first time. Endless webs he couldn’t escape, filthy with spiders, while Jon read statements he couldn’t understand; there was only that voice that had never quite belonged to him and never seemed right. Then they were back in Jude Perry’s domain and Jon was burning, Jon was literally on fire and he wouldn’t save himself and Martin was too terrified to go in and drag him out. He didn’t need an interpreter for that one.
Then there was the dream where he killed Jon again, only in the dream there was no here, no somewhere else; there was no together. There was only Jon bleeding out in his arms after his flesh and muscle gave way and the knife went in. There were only his dead eyes and hands that went cold so fast, and Martin screaming for him to come back, begging him, telling him how sorry he was. He screamed until he couldn’t anymore and there were only tears left, silent gasps for air, and he was clutching at the back of a corpse that used to be Jon and he was alone; all he could feel was dead hands on his body, and when he woke, he was pushing Jon aggressively away from himself. Even when he realized he’d been dreaming, all he could see was the mark on Jon’s chest that he’d put there and he couldn’t take it, he couldn’t breathe and he had to get out, he had to do anything but stay in that room and suffocate.
Just minutes later Jon, now in a t-shirt, came in to find him on the couch with his face in his hands. Softly, so he didn’t notice at first, Jon’s hands started at his waist and made their way up his back, to his shoulders and around his neck. The weight of Jon’s body on him was enough to stop the shaking after a few minutes, and get him to where he could lift his head and speak without his voice breaking.
“Go back to bed, Jon.”
“When you do.”
He stayed a little longer, trying to slow down and match his breathing to Jon’s, until Jon began to fall asleep on his shoulder.
“Jon. Go to bed.”
“No.”
He gave up and they went back to the bedroom together. He fought to stay awake at first, but when Jon crawled to him under the covers to rest against his chest, groggy, familiar, warm, he couldn’t help himself. He slept again.
That still wasn’t the worst, though—not for Martin. The worst was when Jon dreamed. When Jon woke up it was like Martin wasn’t there. He sat and stared and waited, sometimes for seconds, sometimes for minutes, before he finally saw Martin or felt his touch—and sometimes he simply went back to sleep, and it was like Martin was never there at all.
They were awake; they were looking at each other. Jon reached for Martin’s face. He didn’t exactly seem happy, but his expression held maybe a broken kind of gratitude.
It was enough.
Sometime later, still in bed, Martin asked Jon what they were going to do.
“I don’t know,” Jon answered.
“Well… what do you want to do?”
“I still don’t know,” Jon said, this time with a wry smile.
“Fine, I get it. Can I ask you something, then? About—where we are?”
Jon’s smile faded a little. “I probably won’t know that either.”
Martin sighed. “Look Jon, I’m sorry I used you like—like post-apocalyptic Google. You don’t have to know everything, all right? Sometimes it’s ok just to talk. Figure things out instead of—”
“It didn’t bother me. I liked knowing things.”
“You miss it.”
It wasn’t a question, but Jon answered nonetheless. “Yes.”
“All right. You said once that you—that you liked feeling people’s fear, too. Do you miss that also?”
Jon paused. “Was that what you were going to ask me?”
“No.”
“Then I think I won’t answer.”
“Fair enough.” Martin didn’t know why he’d asked, because he really didn’t want to know. “Here’s what I was going to ask. You said you thought that Elias was in charge of the Magnus Institute here because—well, because he was in our world. And also just the Institute itself, and Tim, and Sasha, and… why?”
Jon screwed up his face.
“And I get that you don’t know, I just want to hear your thoughts,” Martin added.
“All right,” Jon started. “It was more a feeling—”
“That’s fine.”
Jon gave him a look and Martin held up his hands in apology. “It was more a feeling, but… when we were pulled through, the web connected the dimensions, but they weren’t… open.”
“Like… knocking on locked doors.”
“Yes? Actually?”
Martin ignored the implications of Jon’s surprise at his understanding. “And this dimension?”
“I think they got desperate. They were running out of… strength? Energy? They were dying. They couldn’t go back, and this dimension was—adjacent to ours, maybe. Nearby. Not physically, obviously, that doesn’t mean anything—”
“Ok—”
“—_but _there were other connections, older ones, different from the web, the tape. And this dimension was connected to ours. They’ve probably pulled on each other, influenced each other, maybe from the beginning. Ours may have been especially strong because of—well, never mind, I don’t know. But it was easier for them, to come here. A refuge, I suppose.”
“That—that actually makes sense,” Martin said.
“Does it?”
“I mean, as much as anything. Let’s just say I’m willing to accept it?”
“As a theory,” Jon said firmly.
“Fine, as a theory.” Martin looked at Jon. “Did you really feel all that? I didn’t—I didn’t feel anything.”
“Who knows. Maybe it was all in my head.”
“I doubt it. I just feel bad I wasn’t really there with you.”
“You were, though.”
Martin let the silence linger for a few minutes before he pressed on.
“Jon, what… what do you think happened to the_ _Jon and Martin that were here before? Are they dead?”
“No idea.”
“I mean… it had to be because of us, right? It probably wasn’t a coincidence.”
“Probably not.”
Martin took a deep breath. “Do you think we—did we Helen them?”
“What?”
“You know—do you think we—did we trap them inside us somehow?”
“Like the distortion?”
“Yeah.”
“No. No, that’s something different. Something like that—that could only be done deliberately. And it would be awful. At any rate, we would feel it.” Jon seemed convinced of his answer, and it made Martin feel a little bit better. “But I do think… I do think we intersected with them, somehow.”
“Do you think… Is there any chance that they could come back?"
“Doubtful.” Jon shook his head. “But I—I don’t know.”
Martin accepted this, but wasn’t any closer to knowing how to feel about it. All he knew was it still made him extremely uncomfortable. It had been one thing to talk about theoretical Archivists and Martins and whatever else might exist in another dimension, but now…
“Can I ask something else?”
Jon shrugged.
“How did I get here?”
“What? You know how we got here, as much as I do.”
“I know how you got here. I’ve been thinking, and I know Annabelle”—he found he really disliked saying her name, even more than he thought he would—"said there was a chance she might be pulled along with the entities, if they left. Because—because she was—well, all web. Nothing else left.”
Martin paused, and Jon waited.
“So I don’t really want to think too much about what that means for you—I don’t—but I _get _it. But—how did I get here?”
Jon turned it over for a moment. “I took you with me.”
That answer was much too brief for Martin, so he pushed. “Ok, but—how? Could you have brought anyone? Like… could you have brought Basira?”
Jon laughed sharply, clearly not having anticipated the question. “No. No, just you.”
Martin sighed. “Ok, look, that’s real… _romantic _and all, but—how?”
Jon took so long to answer Martin thought maybe he wasn’t going to, but he finally did.
“Remember you told me that Annabelle said our bond was… complicated?”
“Yes?” Martin wondered immediately what Jon knew that he didn’t. This had I didn’t know how to tell you written all over it.
“And she talked about the Lonely.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t realize it at first, but when I… when I came after you, it… Look, Martin, the Lonely—it’s not—people aren’t supposed to be together there. That’s the whole point of it.”
“Sure.”
“Well, it did something. To us, I mean.”
“Like…?” Martin was trying his best to be patient, but he could tell that Jon was reading his irritation and starting to get flustered.
“To the entities we’re—we’re sort of—we’re the same.”
Martin saw through that explanation right away. “What you mean is that I’m an extension of you. A part of the all-mighty Archivist.”
“Well… yes. To them.”
“Great.” It made sense, though—how Martin had been able to go with Jon through all the domains, why the former archivists guarding the tower and the tunnels had left him alone, and of course, how he’d been able to come here. He turned on his back, crossing his arms over his chest, and allowed the smallest grumble to escape him.
“Martin, you know _I _don’t—”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Well, like I_ _said I didn’t realize it at first, and then—”
Martin turned his head toward Jon but kept his arms crossed, specifically to demonstrate how unimpressed he was.
“All right. All right, fine. I didn’t want you to think that was when I fell in love with you. Happy?”
Martin forgot to be annoyed. “What?”
“I didn’t want you to think—”
“No, I heard_ _you. Why would I have thought that?”
“Because we never—I never told you before the Lonely. I didn’t really—”
“Ok, Jon? I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’m aware we’re a bit… messed up, but I know that you love me. Like, really love me. And I love you too.”
“I know, but… don’t think I’ve forgotten what you said, crises and trauma and all that.”
“Jon. I said that made us compatible. I didn’t say we don’t actually love each other, or that it was some kind of weird fear reflex.”
Jon opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again.
“Jesus.” Martin moved toward Jon, touching a hand to his shoulder. When Jon didn’t pull away, he moved closer again, taking him properly in his arms until he knew what he wanted to say.
“Jon—you asked me once if—well, no other way to say it—if I would gouge my eyes out and run away with you.”
“Oh, I remember.” Jon’s voice was muffled against Martin’s shoulder. “Although technically _you _were the one who said ‘gouge your eyes out,’ I would have settled for—”
“Yes, yes, all right—well, I would do it now.”
Jon stiffened.
“Or I mean, we could try it without blinding ourselves too, you know, test it out first? But the point is—we could leave. We could just go. Jon, you’ve—you’ve suffered enough. We don’t have to stay here. We can tell them whatever you want. Or we can tell them nothing. They’re smart, though, they’ll figure it out if it comes to it, and maybe—maybe nothing will happen, maybe there won’t be an apocalypse, maybe never. Maybe they’ll even figure out something we didn’t, some way to destroy—"
“Where would we go?” Jon interrupted softly.
“Anywhere. Back to Scotland, maybe. I could work in that little country store, and you could—I don’t know, you could do nothing if you didn’t want to, you could read all those books you told me you never got around to, there’s time now—”
“Martin—”
“Or we don’t have to go there! We could go—well we don’t have to decide right away, we could just travel for a bit—”
“Martin.”
Martin stopped.
“It sounds… lovely.”
“But you won’t do it.”
“No.”
He held Jon just a little tighter before letting him go. “I figured you’d say that. Thought it was worth a try, though.”
“It was worth a try.”
“So back to my original question—I guess we do know what comes next, then. Back to the Institute.”
“You don’t have to,” Jon said. “You could work somewhere else. Or not work. Or you could leave, I’d find a way to—”
Martin shook his head, then pressed his forehead against Jon’s. “You know the deal, and that’s not part of it.”
“I do,” Jon sighed.
They fell into silence again, this time for a long while.
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itzagothamcitysiren · 4 years ago
Text
There’s Only Us Left Now
I’m so excited to finally post this and expand the Batfamily!!!! I really love writing Tim and he just needs more love than he gets. 
This arc is heavily inspired by the song Sidekick by Rancid. I don’t think the song was meant to be about Tim (seeing as the  singers name is also Tim) but like, it’s about Tim lol.  I love punk rock and Rancid is one of my favorite bands. Their song Sidekick has always been a favorite because this is literally the lyrics to the chorus “I had a dream I was a vigilante's side kick/ My name is Tim, I'm a lesser-known character/I had a dream I was a vigilante's side kick/Fighting crime in the streets together” 
So like, you see my point. This song is about Tim lol. Rancid is a really good band and you should totally go out and check out there song. The link for it is here! 
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I Had a Dream I Was a Vigilante's Side Kick pt. 1
           Halley Wilson would never be the first to admit it out loud but there were moments in her life where she wished she had never stopped playing dress up; moments where she wished she had never stopped pretending to be a hero. Looking back at the long nights spent in costume, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, Halley wondered if that was what little kids felt like when they were children playing make believe. And she now wondered if the feelings of fondness but almost embarrassment brought by those memories were average side effects people caught when growing up and looked back at their childhood?
           Her breath hitched in her throat as she pondered the idea. Her eyes looked around the busy but hush room she found herself in. She was uncertain, feeling the feeling she hadn’t in years start to build up and bubble inside of herself. She wanted to cave into herself and disappear. She couldn’t really compare her time as the vigilante Nightshade to simple child’s play. Trying to do so was childish in itself.  
           Halley’s eyes flickered back down to the screen of her laptop, the document still not nearly as full as she had hoped it would be at this point. She grunted, wishing her mind wasn’t so randomly out of sorts and could actually focus on the task at hand. Even if it had been two years since her boyfriend’s death, she was just asking for it by moving back to Gotham. She should’ve known that the past would’ve caught up to her eventually and there was no true escape. She thought that she could live in the city as a normal civilian but who was she kidding?
           There was no such thing as a normal civilian in Gotham City, she laughed to herself as she blew a strand of brown hair out of her face and biting down on her lip.
           Her eyes trailed but up from the screen and to the girl sitting across from her. The girl, her best friend, Sam, was still completely oblivious that Halley was on high alert as they sat in a comfortable booth towards the center wall. School papers and textbooks littered the table accompanying half-finished coffees and barely touched sandwiches.
           Just as Sam hadn’t picked up on Halley’s current state and she also hadn’t picked up on the complete reversal of personality between the two girls.  Sam was dead set on finishing what they had come here to do having been the one who insisted on coming her to begin with. The dark skinned girl was dead set on finishing her mid-term paper and long forgot about the food after a few bits and only chugging down the now cold liquid to fuel her brain.  
           The paper was due sooner than she liked. Sam knew she had once had plenty of time to finish it but now was forced to cram it all in a matter of a couple of days on top of all her other classwork. She knew that the anxiety she felt now was no one’s fault but her own. She was easily distracted and there was just something about the setting of a coffee shop that made her focus.
           Her phone, which now rest guarded in Halley’s pocket, was the number one villain in her escapades in writing this damned paper. She was self-indulgent and couldn’t stop herself from picking it up and checking on the world if it was in site of her. And then there was also trying to do schoolwork in their dorm. How could one focus when there was a TV that could be turned on and watched? Or all the other things that weren’t so boring that she could do inside? Even the school library couldn’t get her in the right mindset to focus.  
           But here she was completely emerged in her laptop, writing word after word, paragraph after paragraph; she’d be done by the end of the day possibly if she kept this up. It was the complete opposite of her normal self but she wasn’t complaining. She was too focused to even think about complaining or to notice Halley’s matching state of food and drink.
              Halley look up again and into the bustling café. Her eyes carefully looked back to the spot in the far back corner that had been the cause of her distracted being. Her eyes didn’t linger long as her instincts and years of training knew better than to. But even with the quick glance there was no denying it. She was completely aware why her paper was still left untouched for nearly twenty minutes now. There was no denying the fact that they were being watched and that they were being followed.
           Halley was not only mad at this fact but was also mad at the fact that she allowed someone to get the jump on her. If she hadn’t given up on her training, if she had someone like Bruce who kept her on her toes, maybe she would’ve caught him sooner. The last two years had completely relaxed her skills and senses. She had given up on that life and now she was facing the consequences of being indubitably out of practice.
            Her eyes once again turned back to her screen as she now thought about what to do next. She should be focusing on her paper, being in the same boat as Sam with the due date approaching fast. She planned to finish the rest of it today, having already done a giant chunk of it throughout the term but of course her luck said otherwise. Maybe her exhaustion from staying up until the sun shined to get all her work done had finally gotten to her. She could blame that on being so late on the draw when it came to noticing the figure sitting across the café suspiciously peering over their book and staring directly their way.
           Halley was not only disappointed in herself for not noticing him right away because whoever it this was wasn’t even that great at being inconspicuous. She remembered seeing him standing a little to close as the two girl first made their orders up at the counter. She remembered him only ordering a water but then waiting near them as they waited for theirs. She also remembered him waiting for them to sit first before taking the back booth that had a clear view of theirs. But it was like when someone said something and it just went in one ear and right out the other.
           It didn’t fully process to her until they’d been in the café for two hours and Halley had gotten up from their table to refill her coffee. She walked by the booth and it all clicked at the site of the water bottle being untouched. She didn’t know what was worse: that it had taken so long for her to catch him or that she had been played by a kid.
           It’d been about an hour now since she’d clued in. She spared the kid in the corner another look still trying to see if she recognized him from somewhere, anywhere, but she had no clue who this kid was. This time before she could look away their eyes meet. She let her eyes narrow, not showing the inner panic she felt whereas the boy’s eyes went wide before scrambling down to look at his book. Her lips formed a thin line at this horrible attempt at spying, scoffing to herself.
           Letting out a drawn out sigh she closed her laptop and finally earned Sam’s attention. The girl frowned and asked if she was okay. Halley shrugged, grabbing her coffee cup and stating that she needed another refill. Sam shrugged before going back to work.
           She had a lot more work than Halley had and couldn’t afford for Halley’s current predicament get in the way of it. Halley was proud, Sam hadn’t asked for her phone once since entering the café and sitting down. Sam was going to school for psychology and was trying to get into an internship program next year. Halley had questioned her or more so tried to convince her not too since the internship would be at Arkham. Sam was a great friend but she was naïve and had no idea what she was getting into. She swore it wouldn’t happen to her when Halley brought up the fate of the one notable Harley Quinn but Halley was still unsure and concerned.
           Halley stood up again but this time eyed the boy directly as she walked past his eyeline. He seemingly cowered into his seat as if it would make him invisible. Halley raised an eyebrow at him, scanning over his table as she slowly walked past it. His textbook was shielding a notebook. Halley couldn’t get the greatest look but noted it was covered in scribbles and highlights. One statement did stick out to her and it made her nearly drop her coffee cup.
           Bruce Wayne is Batman.
           This time with more pep in her step she forgot about the refill and quickly made her way back to her table. She began to gather her items, unplugging her laptop and shoving it in her bag. Sam looked up from her own laptop, puzzled.
           “We need to leave,” Halley said, her voice stern.
           “But we were-,”
           “Sam.” Halley’s voice cut her off, glaring at her.
           She stopped herself, not wanting to seem like the kid got her worked up but he did. Who was he? How did he know that Bruce was Batman? And did that mean that he knew who she was?
           Fuck, she thought feeling a lump in her throat. She never told Sam about her past. She had never told any of her friends that weren’t heroes themselves either. Fuck, she repeated to herself harshly. She had never wanted the two worlds to collide. Backtracking, she shook her head at Sam.
           “Actually, you stay. I need to go.” Halley said, slinging her backpack over her shoulders and slipped Sam’s phone out of her pocket, leaving it on the table.
           “What? Why? Are you okay?” Sam asked, her face no longer puzzled but concerned as she reached for the phone.
           “I’m fine- I just forgot something and I need to go.” Halley assured even if she was vague. She began to walk away from the table, knowing for a fact that the kid would soon follow her.  She gave Sam a slight wave. “I’ll see you tonight!”
           Within moments she was out into the streets of Gotham, hearing the door to the café close behind her only to open again a few moments after her. She peered over her shoulder, letting her hair hide the majority of her face and saw the boy following her. She quickened her pace unsure of where she should go. He was kid, she could just confront him but again, she had also been a kid once and spent her childhood killing men more than twice her age.
           No, he’d just worry, she decided when she thought about calling Dick. But was there a reason to be worried?
           Deciding that she was more than capable to handle herself she took matters in her own hands. She stopped her step, whipping around to confront the boy. Her eyes widened and scanned the area. He was gone. He had just been there and now he was gone. She turned forward, looking around again and saw no sight of him. People walked past her, staring at her like a crazy person as she looked clearly distressed and insane as her face contorted and scrunched up. She looked up at rooftops and into the alleyways nearby feeling exposed and paranoid.
           Shaking her head, she went back into a steady pace heading back to campus. If he knew who she was then he knew where she went to school; where she lived. She knew she should call Bruce after seeing what she saw in the notebook or call Dick at least. But she found herself unable to and she found it haunting her for the days to follow.
           She couldn’t focus in class, always looking over her shoulder and on edge. She had to ask her teacher for an extension, her paper being that last thing on her mind. She knew it was irresponsible and she knew she should tell someone but Dick was off with the Titans and Bruce’s number was still so daunting when her thumb hovered over it when she was alone in her room.
           A week had passed and the boy hadn’t shown himself again causing Halley too relax but only by an inch. Maybe she had gone crazy? Maybe she imagined it?
           No, she saw what she saw in that notebook. The stupid kid highlighted it and circled it for Christ’s sake.  Whoever he worked for didn’t train him well or long enough; he was a nuance at spy stuff compared to her at that age. But he still managed to unnerve her especially when after a week he decided to show himself again.  
           She had gotten an email from her communications teacher asking her to come to her office after the end of classes. She had wanted to discuss her application the internship at the Gotham Gazette she was applying for. Halley thought nothing of it having known that Miss Parsons did want to have a meeting with her soon to discuss it so she didn’t hesitate to head straight to her office after her last class.
           Her mind was frantic as she looked through her folder to make sure she had all her articles and papers lined up that she wanted to submit for the internship. Picking her eyes up as she rounded the corner and reached the office’s door, she knocked. She heard a muffled reply, the voice sounding a lot deeper than the usual perky teacher. She paused as she was now cautious as she felt herself going on alert. Narrowing her eyes she closed her folder and placed her hand on the doorknob.
           The door slowly opened and the former assassin turned vigilante peered into the room. Her eyes widened and her mouth agape as she stared at the person sitting at the desk. It sure as hell wasn’t Professor Parsons. Her face changed from shock to anger as she turned her gaze into a glare. She slammed the door shut.
           The boy who had been haunting her mind all week sat where Miss Parsons should be sitting. Halley crossed her arms against her chest as the boy simply smiled with his lips pressed firmly together, bringing his hand up to give her an awkward wave. Halley narrowed her eyes tighter at him, noting how he was wearing a Gotham Academy uniform. He looked at her cautiously but still had some trace of smugness showing in his facial expression as if he was proud of himself for catching her off guard again.
           “I’m Tim Drake.” He introduced, outreaching his hand over the desk for her to shake. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
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formerprincess · 3 years ago
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A tale written with fangs and claws || Chapter 60
Chapters: 60/? Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken, Corey Bryant/Mason Hewitt Characters: Liam Dunbar, Theo Raeken, Mason Hewitt, Corey Bryant, Nolan (Teen Wolf) Additional Tags: Alpha Liam Dunbar, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, Dunbar Pack, Bisexual Liam Dunbar, Werewolf Theo Raeken, Alpha Theo Raeken, Canon-Typical Violence, Smut, Mates, Liam and Theo are mates, Top Theo Raeken, Bottom Theo Raeken, Top Liam, Bottom Liam Dunbar Series: Part 1 of Morning Dew Pack
Liam meets with Luka again and learns a bit more about the other werewolf pack. The friendship is blossoming.
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"Thank you for dropping me off." Liam climbed out of the passenger seat of Savannah's car and closed the passenger door behind him. "Don't forget to text me!" The blonde yelled through the open window before she reversed her car. Liam waved at her and watched her drive away before he finally made his way to the front door of his house. Luka, Savannah, Maddie, and he had sat together in the bar and talked for a while until they all had to disperse in different directions. Maddie and Luka had matters to attend to in regards to business and coven, Savannah had plans with her friends later on but offered to drop Liam off. He had gladly accepted her offer since it saved him from riding the bus during summer. Would Theo or someone else had come to get Liam? Absolutely but his Betas were not his chauffeurs.
Liam unlocked the door now and stepped into the house. He heard the tv running, the bass of Mike's music coming from downstairs. As always, it filled Liam with the undeniable feeling of home and happiness. Here he belonged. He hung his keys up and walked further into the house. Theo and Mason lounged on the opposite ends of the couch; Theo with a book in his hand and Mason with his notebook. Corey sat in front of the couch table and solved a puzzle. Tim sat in one of the chairs and watched tv. "Hey, you're back." Mason checked his watch. "Way later than I expected you to be. So it was good?" The others stopped what they were doing and turned to Liam. Tim even muted the series he had been watching. "Mixed, I would say." Liam kissed Theo and then sat next to his mate. Theo licked his lips. "Have you've been drinking lemon shots?" "I'm concerned how you got that from just one kiss", Liam remarked. Then he decided to answer Mason's question. "First of, those Alphas really think they're something else. Something I'm not. I don't have enough millions in my bank account to ever have them accept me." "That bad? I'm sorry." Corey grimaced. His parents were like that as well and he despised them for it. "Most of them, yeah. But I met three people who are very cool. First of, Mase, were cheetahs and vampire are a thing." Mason squeaked and pushed his notebook out of the way. "Tell me everything!" "The hotel had such old Hollywood glam style. Not my chic but whatever. First I met Savannah. She's the cheetah. Alpha of a very small pack here in Seattle. Outgoing, very direct, and honest. She talked to me before I even entered the meeting room. Was her first time too. We kind of stuck together. Then we met Meadow, the vampire. She has been to meetings before but she does not like the Alphas. She has a human best friend and told me he also has some notes about the supernatural community. I invited the two of them here cause I thought you and him could maybe check your notes, combine them so to speak. He surely will have things you don't have and vice versa, Mason and Corey." "Great idea." Corey helped Mason with the Bestiary and he would also profit from meeting Asher. If Asher wanted to follow the invitation. Maddie had said it would not be a problem but Liam would wait for clarification from Asher himself. "You said you met three people. Who's the third?" Theo asked. "Luka. He's the only other cool werewolf I met. Also older than us but his pack is from around. They're more modern and open-minded. Like ours is." "Sounds good. All in all, it seemed as if the meeting wasn't for nothing." Mason smiled. "And vampires. Wait! How was she there? Can she walk in the sun? Did the other Alphas wrangle her into the hotel? Is she traveling in a coffin? Did she try to drink your blood? What was she like??" "Jesus, Mason." Corey shook his head. But Liam gladly answered every question his Emissary had. "I'll stay in contact with them", he finally ended and his mate, as well as Consultant and Emissary, voiced their agreement. "Liam?" Tim said shyly. "Didn't you put up a rule of not having strangers come to the house? When you said you invited the vampire and her friend here, are you not breaking your own rule?"
Shit. Oh shit.
Liam had completely forgotten about that rule. Yes, he had told his Betas not to bring strangers into their new home. And here he was breaking his very own rule. Great, Dunbar! "No...I mean...yeah, I did....But...." Tim got up to leave the room. "I mean, you're the Alpha and therefore it's your decision. You can do whatever you want. I just remembered the rule." He gave an insecure shrug and then left the room in the direction of his room. Liam huffed. "You forgot you had put the rule in place, right?" Theo guessed. "Yep." Liam closed his eyes for a moment and scolded himself mentally. Idiot! Idiot! Idiot! "I mean, you are the Alpha. We can still follow the rules but what you do is up to you", Corey suggested softly. Liam's eyes snapped open. "No!" He said sharply. "We're not running a pack like that! If rules are in place, we all have to follow them. Including me. Especially me." "Then you have to decide what to do with that situation. You could always meet with Meadow and her friend somewhere else", Mason suggested. "No. The rule made sense back then but not it's not feasible anymore. And I will tell Tim that."
The young Alpha got up from the couch and marched downstairs to his Beta's room. He knocked, waited a few moments, then opened the door. Liam peeked into the room. "Hey. Have a minute?" Tim had sat on his desk and now spun around in his chair, a mixture of shock and surprise written on his face. But then he caught himself and nodded. Liam walked in and closed the door behind him. "You can sit on the bed if you want." Tim pointed at said furniture piece and Liam sat down on the edge. He rubbed his palms over his thighs. "You're right. I set this rule and I completely and utterly forgot about it. Had you not said anything, it would have left my mind forever. I am sorry about that." "It's okay. As I said, you're the Alpha. You make the rules, you sure can break the rules." Tim tried his best to give off the impression it was really okay. But Liam was stubborn. "It's not okay", he stated calmly. "When I set the rule, it seemed reasonable to me and came from a place of being worried about everyone and our home. I wanted to be absolutely sure nothing could get to us. That was weeks ago. I should have kept it in mind and change it again after Ever cast the spell and we were more secure. I didn't. I fucked up and I am sorry about that." Tim opened his mouth to protest but Liam was faster: "I am grateful for you guys calling me out. Tim, you're my friend, my family, my Beta. You and the others absolutely should call me out when I do something wrong. I'm not perfect and I will make these mistakes. But only with this echo from you, I can improve and become a better leader. I'm not mad at you and you don't have to be afraid to speak up. This rule was okay back then but now is not anymore. Therefore I cut it. Gone! Just like that! thank you for bringing this up. I mean it. But what will never happen is that I set rules for you and then don't follow them myself. This is not the type of leader I wanna be. Okay?" Tim gnawed on his lip. "I would not care so much but this is the first house I am not judged and ridiculed in. I can be myself and I want to protect it as much as I can", he confessed. "So do I, Timmy", Liam promised him. "I would never let anyone in here I might consider not fully trustworthy." Tim considered. "So you trust Meadow and her friend?" "I do, yeah." Liam nodded. "Do you consider them good allies for the pack?" The twenty-year-old had to laugh. "My brain's not wired like that." Liam played with his hands. "Theo is good at that, Mason too. But I don't think strategically. On the lacrosse field, yeah, that's my jam, but not when it comes to people. I meet a person and I either like or dislike them. Maybe I trust too easy and maybe I will make a fool out of myself but then I have to take responsibility for it. I can't, I don't want to meet someone and be like Your name is what? Oh, you will be a splendid ally to my pack. This is not me and I will probably never get there. Hence why I keep Theo around", he joked at the end. Tim chuckled but then sighed. "I know what you mean. I'm not like that either. It would feel...I don't know...like..." They both thought about it. "Like using someone", they both finally said at the same time and this time they both laugh. "Mike is good at it too. To easily find out how people can be useful to him upon meeting them." "Maybe it's a survival tactic", Liam put out a theory. "How can you help me in my current situation to get a better stand and survive. Would explain why Theo is so good at it. He and Mike both needed to survive in a world that didn't want them." Tim raised his shoulders. "My survival tactic is not being seen or heard. Not draw any attention." "Well, I hope you don't feel like that anymore in the house or around the pack in general." Liam sounded like a father, he realized that himself. But wasn't an Alpha supposed to be a father sometimes? Tim shook his head. "Not always. But it's hard to unlearn what I learned for nineteen years. You know, you guys are great! You make me feel welcome! Don't think anybody else, please!"
He moved his hands around and knocked over a small can filled with brushes of all kinds. They clattered to the floor. Liam knelt and helped him pick them up again. "Didn't know you were painting, Timmy. Those are many brushes." His Beta turned a concerning shade of red and stuttered. "I...No...Not...Irgs. I don't paint! Pictures! I don't paint pictures!" "Then what do you paint?" Liam had never seen Tim being creative with brushes in any shape or form. From how his friend acted, one would think he was doing forbidden things with those brushes. "You don't have to tell me, of course. I'm just curious." You could basically see Tim's thought process on his face. Denial, fear, nervousness, fear again, shame. Finally, he pointed to the other side of the room. There was a large board with something tiny on it. Curiosity got the better of Liam and he stepped closer. Tiny little figurines were placed all over the board, along with trees, and various other little things. There was even a tiny truck looking amazingly similar to Theo's truck. And there was a car looking like Liam's. Wait a second. "Are those figurines of the pack?" Tim rushed next to Liam. "I can stop with that if you think it's weird. It's just, I like making those little scenes and take inspiration from real life." He gently pushed a tiny figurine in a blue jersey. A tiny Liam in lacrosse gear, Liam realized. "You've got to be kidding me! This is awesome! Can I touch it?" Liam was in awe. Tim blushed furiously but then gently placed lacrosse Liam on Liam's palm. The young Alpha turned the figurine to inspect it from all sides. For such a small thing, the details were incredibly detailed. "I make the figurines from a special clay and then I paint them. I hope you don't think it's weird. I am sorry if you do. I'm not a creep, I promise!" Tim almost stumbled over his words in his haste to get them out. "You make them? This is incredible, Tim! Why did you never show us this? That's not creepy or weird, this is fucking amazing! You're crazy talented." Liam could not stop praising the guy. And Tim beamed under the praise. Once he realized Liam did not find anything weird about that and actually loved it, he preened. "Does anybody in the pack know you're doing this?" "Mike knows." Tim smiled shyly. "But I made him swear he wouldn't tell a soul. Made him swear on something important to him." "Uh uh. What did he swear on?" Now Tim blushed again. "Our friendship." "Aw." Those two were cute and deserved each other. Mike because he needed a calm anchor in his life, Tim because he needed someone to speak up when he couldn't himself. "But seriously, Timmy, those are cool. I'm not going to say anything but if you ever want to share with the rest, I can already assure you, they will be as amazed as I was. It's a really cool hobby. I imagine it takes a lot of time?" "Oh, it does. But I like to modulate all the figurines and then paint them. It's calm work and I can think while doing it." Tim began chatting about his hobby. Now that Liam knew it seemed like a dam had burst and he could share it with the Alpha. Liam willingly listened.
****** "I'm glad you could clear the air with Tim." Theo pulled the covers back and crawled in bed. Liam was already under the covers and had scrolled through his phone but now put the device away to concentrate on the talk with his mate. "I'm glad too. It is important to me to get those kinds of replies so I can reflect on myself. I'm not doing everything right. But I'm working on it." "You're doing a lot of things already right. The things you're not doing right, well they partly make you Liam. Not perfect but human and very loveable." "How were you ever the chimera of death?" Liam teased and Theo smacked him with his pillow. Liam laughed. "I am trying here to compliment you and you do not appreciate it? You should be ashamed of yourself!" Theo wailed. Liam laughed louder. "Naw, you will survive that one, big boy. You know I love you." To prove it, he pressed his mate down on the mattress and kissed him passionately. Theo laughed into the kiss but returned it soon enough. "I know you love me", he mumbled after they parted. "And I love you, Lee." Liam was proud to hear that and he smirked. His phone chimed and he let go of Theo to grab it. "It's from Luka. He's asking if I want to meet up sometime next week. Cool." Liam already typed an answer. "You really like the three, right?" Theo mused. Liam looked up from his phone screen. Theo was watching him with questioning eyes but there was no sign of jealousy as he had shown with Scott in the beginning. He sighed. "I do. It's strange. They're all older than me and yet they never acted like they had to explain the world to me. Never a patronizing word, never telling me I'm still so young. I was just Liam and from the get-go, I was part of this little gang. I didn't have to prove myself to them. Because it felt like I had already proved myself prior to meeting them and they didn't even care. It was nice. I wasn't...." "You weren't the fourteen-year-old?" Theo asked amusedly and yet with compassion. "Yeah", Liam confirmed. "I wasn't even Liam the twenty-year-old. I was just...Liam." He fell silent for a few beats. "Doesn't mean I will leave you guys behind. You're my family." "Nobody's thinking that!" Theo furrowed his brows. "If we did, we would be bad friends and family members. We all are individuals outside of this pack and we all will make friendships without the pack being involved. If not, we would be one lousy pack. What we are is, happy you found people appreciating you and liking you for who you are." He reached out and pushed Liam's chin up so the couple looked at each other. "Liam, you have so many things going on for you. Your age shouldn't be one of the first things to notice." It was still strange to hear those things with such sincerity and Liam swallowed dryly. "What's the first thing?" He asked softly. Theo smiled lovingly. "Your good heart. And your eyes. Not because of their color - even though it's a beautiful color - but because they shine with such honesty and happiness." They stared at each other, Liam lost for words. He found his voice only after moments passed. "Were you always that poetic?" "You bring out the best in me", the ex-chimera replied and then kissed Liam deeply.
****** "Not to be pessimistic or something but would it not have been better to plant the flowers after the heatwave?" Liam stood in the open front door and watched Brett watering their plants. Nope", the tall werewolf replied and carried on with his task. "Because?" "Because I wanted to do it now", Brett simply answered. He gave Liam a cheeky grin. "That's reason enough." "Why would I ever doubt that?" Liam remarked teasingly. "Careful before I water you. You could use some growing", Brett teased back. The next moment, he was distracted by the red convertible oldtimer rolling into their driveway. The car was highly polished, not one speck of dirt to be seen, and it was sparkling in the sun. "Holy crap, that is awesome." Brett didn't even realize he was watering the ground instead of the plants, too busy staring at the car. It stopped in front of the entrance and Luka in the driver seat smirked. "Hi." "Hi." Liam laughed. "Nice car." "It's the pack car when one of us wants to go for a nice ride. Holden, a pack member, resto moded it but he lends it to everyone. Thought it's a nice day, why not take it?" He took off his sunglasses and seemed quite proud of his Beta's skills. Liam had no interest in cars but it was a pretty one and why not? He had no objections to driving around in this. Mike and Theo came out of the house. "Dude, that car is sick!" Mike jumped down the stairs and rounded it. Luka preened. "I'll forward it to Holden." Theo was also circling the car, as amazed by it as Mike and Brett were. Liam could only shake his head. Who knew those guys were such car freaks? "Luka, that one over there is Brett and that guy there is Mike. And that is Theo." "Nice to meet you." Theo was the only one to actually shake Luka's hand, the other two simply waved and then continued to fawn over the car. "Nice to meet you too", Luka replied. "You're Liam's boyfriend, right?" "I am", Theo proudly confirmed. "Bring him back in one piece." "I swear on my life", Luka promised in a playful serious tone. Liam grunted. "I can hear you guys! Theo, maybe I won't bring Luka back in one piece. How about that?" "As long as you bring the car back in one piece!" Mike cut in and made them all laugh. "Okay, now that some of my Betas embarrassed me in front of you, I'll get my sunglasses and we can go", Liam called out to the older Alpha and ran into the house and upstairs.
It took him a little while to find his sunglasses (he really needed to try and be tidier) but when he found them under some papers, Liam let out a triumphant cry and ran back downstairs. His Betas were involved in a conversation with Luka (surprisingly not about cars) which Liam now interrupted. "I'm ready." "Great. Hop in." Liam opened the passenger door and marveled at how smooth this was going. He somehow expected the door to get stuck because of age. But this car looked and felt like a brand new one. "See you guys later. Don't burn the house down", he joked. "Yes, dad!" All three Betas chimed in unison. Theo smirked and came to the passenger side to give Liam a quick kiss. "Have fun", he mumbled and Liam nodded. "Bye, guys. See you next time!" Luka called out before he started the car and soon they rolled down the driveway.
"You're one of the few people in this car to use the seatbelt immediately", he informed Liam when he turned into the street. The young Alpha looked down. "I do this in every car. My mother drilled this into me from a young age. I could not drive in a car without buckling up." "My mom was like that too. She always said just because were werewolves didn't mean we had to challenge fate. And she got mad if she saw one of us without a seatbelt on. Not just her own kids but basically everyone. There is a story where she refused to drive another Alpha's wife to the airport because the lady refused to put hers on. It's said they sat in the car for forty minutes until my dad went looking for them." Liam started laughing. "That's dedication. It's that the temper you were talking about?" Now Luka laughed. "My mom was stubborn. I'm too. And my sister is as well. Fun times during puberty, I can tell you. Good thing my dad was good at finding middle ground." "Your parents seemed like an amazing couple. Their personalities really matched with each other, from what I already heard." He wanted to know more about his new friend. And Liam wanted to share things about himself as well. He believed Savannah was right, this could become great friendships. "They were the perfect match even though their personalities were as different as they can be. But they balanced each other out. They were incredible Alphas for our pack." "You say Alphas. Were both real Alphas? Or just an Alpha couple?" Luka stopped at a crosswalk and let some pedestrians pass. "Technically, if you base it on red eyes and stamina, my father was the Alpha. My mother was a Beta but no one would have dared to treat her like one. Or like she was just dad's wife and mate. The way she cared for her pack, the way she made decisions, the way she spoke, she was an Alpha. There is so much more to an Alpha than red eyes. It's all about behavior and the relationship to the pack members." "I don't base it on the red eyes. Theo, he's also a Beta, but we call him Second Alpha. He takes over if I can't. We're the Alpha couple. Why should the color of somebody's eyes define their role?" Luka agreed with Liam's point of view. "There are some packs without an Alpha with red eyes. One Beta is in charge and guides them." "I didn't know that, that's awesome. But wouldn't that be an Alpha by conquest in the long run?" "Depends on how serious the pack takes it. Not all packs are focused on Alpha and Betas, some are more lenient. There are so many kinds of packs. Not just different species but different versions. There are also many Alpha Omegas around." "Alphas without a pack? So wolves with the Alpha spark." "Yeah." "Huh." Liam had never considered that. To him, Omegas had always been those wolves. With normal wolf powers. What were normal wolf powers? Betas? Liam guessed so. He never bothered to really make a distinction or think about what exactly Omegas were. "I kind of don't know a lot about the supernatural. I know how to fight and about several evil beings but all those connections between weres, species, what other magical beings are there, rituals, I know nothing about." Luka didn't take it badly. "At what age were you bitten?" "Fourteen." "You're twenty now. Which means I'm twelve years older than you. Trust and believe me when I tell you I didn't know that much more when I was your age. Plus I have the unfair advantage of being born in a werewolf family." He smiled impishly. Liam grinned. Yet he still insisted on his opinion. "I still think the first few years as a werewolf did not prepare me for that."
Thus he found himself telling Luka everything, from how Scott bit him to the hyenas. It was somewhat therapeutic to talk about all this with another wolf without knowing him beforehand. He didn't need to find periphrases for things, could tell it how it happened and didn't need to sugarcoat the events. He also could be as open as possible without having to worry about insulting some old friends. It had been the same with Byron.
He talked until they parked in the parking lot of the restaurant they had picked to grab something to eat. Liam didn't know the place but according to Luka it had delicious food and you could sit outside under trees so it would not be too hot. "See? That's the reason why teenagers shouldn't become Alphas", Luka said matter of factly and killed the engine. "I don't mean this condescendingly but it is what it is. Maybe if Scott had been a born werewolf it would have been different but I understand why this was all complicated. And why you didn't learn about the supernatural community. You had enough other problems to take care of." "I just wished I could have learned more. Maybe being an Alpha would be easier then", Liam mumbled. "Nah." Luka denied. "Becoming an Alpha does not mean you suddenly get access to this knowledge. It's not like a hatch opens and it's flowing into your brain. You have to make mistakes to find your footing as an Alpha." He unbuckled his seatbelt. "I was prepared to become an Alpha after my father's death for years. It could have become anybody in the pack but since I'm the oldest it was kind of expected for me to take over afterward. But it's not possible to really prepare someone for the weight we shoulder as Alphas. For the magnitude of responsibility settling in. It's something we just feel. And every Alpha has to find their own way to cope with that." Liam frowned. "How do I know I'm doing the right thing then?" Luka gave him a brotherly nudge. "I'd say you're on a good way already. When the first Alpha came to town, your Betas followed you into a potentially deadly fight. They were willing to die by your side. That's a type of loyalty you cannot buy or blackmail. It's loyalty coming from the soul and the heart. And it's only happening because an Alpha made the right decision for those Betas. You're young, Liam, one of the youngest Alphas I've ever met but you marched into the Alpha meeting without a care in the world. Do you think any of those Alphas would have done that at the age of twenty? From my point of view, you're doing absolutely great. Don't focus so much on being perfect and rather follow your heart and gut and you're set. You will be fine." It felt good to hear that. Byron told him that often enough but now a second experienced werewolf told Liam the same thing. He felt flattered. Those men saw him as equal, not just as a teenager. Saw eye-to-eye with him and respected him the same way he respected them. Enough to give Liam a soaring feeling in his chest. "Thanks." He clapped Luka's shoulder. "No come on, I'm hungry."
They exited the car and walked to the restaurant entrance. The hostess greeted them with a friendly smile and an even friendlier one when she got the first good glance at Luka. Liam was friends with Brett so this was not new to him. He was flabbergasted still. "How do you do that?" He had to inquire once they sat outside on their table and the hostess left to get menus for them. "Do what?" Luka acted innocently but his grin and the sparkle in his eyes betrayed him. The hostess came back and made a show to slowly put the menus on the table. She didn't pay Liam any mind and that was fine, he was mated, instead just gave Luka a coy smile. "Don't hesitate to ask me in case you need anything." "Will do. Thank you", he repaid her with a charming smile of his own and she left in a slow, seductive motion. On top of the menus, she left a little note with digits behind. "You barely talked to her and still got her number. Brett managed to pull this off as well. How? Not that I will ever need to try since I have Theo but how the fuck do you pull that off?" Liam could not find any satisfying explanation. Luka had gazed back at the hostess but now his head snapped back. "Luck, I guess. And charm, maybe." "Maybe, uh uh." Liam snickered. Luka had a certain boyish charm about him and that made him attractive. Not taking life too seriously, giving everything an easier vibe. Liam also understood the hostess because the deep green t-shirt Luka was wearing brought out his eyes nicely and accentuated his fit body perfectly. "I like sex. What can I say? Everywhere. No matter what country I am." Luka was not embarrassed to share this. "Have you always been like this?" "Frankly? Yeah. I always liked to flirt and when I was old enough to actually become sexually active, I saw no harm in there. I don't play. That's how my parents raised me. My mother always said: Go and have fun with whoever you want to have fun. But don't break hearts if you don't have to. Be upfront. If it's just sex, say it. Saves you and other people heartbreak. I always followed that. Yes, I had relationships but most of the time I have been single and had one-night-stands. Or several night stands. Whatever. The minute I'm interested in someone or in a relationship, I'm faithful. I can't stand cheaters." "That's the right answer. Sex is nice, with the right person even better, but I don't like players. Nice to hear someone having values."
Liam took a look inside the menu. Right on cue, a waiter appeared. "Hello gentlemen, I'm your server for today. Would you care for a drink?" The Alphas looked at each other. "Just water is fine for me", Liam decided. It was hot, despite the trees providing shade, and he would become thirsty, he knew himself. "Water is good", Luka decided himself and the waiter went to fetch their drinks. "You said no matter what country you are in. Are you traveling a lot?" Liam had picked up on that. "For work yeah." "What are you doing for a living?" "I deal in car parts for either oldtimer or pimped-out cars. Like the convertible. Holden is the mechanic, we work together. He screws the cars together, I contract the clients and the manufacturers. We have business all over the world since some of the parts are very rare. So I traveled a lot. For periods of time, I wasn't home for months. I never had my own apartment because it made no sense to pay for something I used. Tried it once and after weeks my landlord called and said he just wanted to check if I was still alive since I never came around. So I moved out again and if I stayed home, I stayed with the Alphas." "And that was okay? For you to be gone so long?" "My parents ket an open door policy. If something important came up, they called us home but aside from that, we were free to leave as long as we wanted. We knew we could always return to the pack house. No matter how late, even in the middle of the night, we were always welcome. We all made use of that rule over the years."
The waiter brought their drinks and took their order. When he left the two alone again, Liam raised his glass. "Good idea to meet up again", he praised. "Well, Savannah said it right, it's the beginning of wonderful friendships. So of course." Luka smiled and they clinked their glasses together. Liam took a sip. Perfect, cool water, he never drank anything better. He put his glass down again and savored the sip. "Uhm, I never got the chance to ask. How many Betas do you have? We're only talking about me." "I don't mind. You're good at telling a story and explaining things. Somebody ever told you that?" Luka had put his glass down as well. Liam made an incredulous face. "No. What would they? I'm kind of dumb." It had slipped out faster than Liam could have stopped it. Luka's frown was almost instantly. "What asshole told you that?" "No one. Life experience, if you will. I'm not the brightest." "You don't have to be a genius but you really don't appear dumb, Liam. Don't believe it when people tell you that. They're just haters." It had the same vibe as a worried older brother giving a stern talking to his younger sibling and Liam chuckled. He was a big brother but not a little brother and yeah he called Scott his brother sometimes but that was different. Maybe because Scott was only two years older than Liam himself. They came from the same walk of life, small town, maybe that was also a factor? Liam could not really put his finger on it but it hit differently with Luka. "Okay", he said to end this topic. "I will remember this talk." "Good", Luka looked stern but then he smiled. "To get back to the question, seven Betas. A few less than you have." He leaned back in his chair. "There is my younger sister Delaney. Younger by three years. An absolute firecracker. If she gets angry, if you piss her off, she will cuss at you and rant for hours if you let her. Especially in the background of a phone conversation. Very entertaining, if I'm being honest." Luka laughed. But the love for his sister was evident in his words. "Then there is Simon. He is...was dad's best friend. They've been to school and college together and he acted like some sort of advisor for the pack. Helped with international deals and connections. He's my godfather and like a second dad. I'm happy I still have him after I lost dad. It doesn't bear contemplating if he would have been also gone..." Luka trailed off. Liam managed a compassionate smile. "I am sorry for your loss. Losing somebody we love is never easy." He touched his collar bone where the Lion King tattoo was hidden under his shirt. Luka appreciated the sentiment. He continued his list on a lighter note. "With Simon came Holden, his son. Holden's just a few months younger than I am, we grew up together." "Holden's mom is not part of the pack?" "No. She never wanted to get married or have kids. Yet she married Simon and got pregnant with Holden. Weeks after his birth she handed Simon the infant and announced: I don't want to be a wife or a mother. Here's the child, I'll leave your life for good. He does not have to search for me, I want nothing to do with any of you. My lawyer will send you the documents where I signed my rights away and the divorce papers. Got her suitcase and left. From that moment on, mom and dad gave a hand to Simon. Holt and I basically grew up like brothers. He annoys Delaney the same way I do." Liam giggled. "Are younger siblings not something fun? I have a younger brother. He's ten but living at the lake." "Aw, they're so cute at that age. And then they start stating their own opinions and become brats." It was obvious Luka didn't mean a thing he said about his sister. They both began to laugh. "Holden's a great guy but he can be a hothead. Impulsive and very brash. Those are not his finest moments and we have to hold him back. But he's fiercely protective of the pack. Would do anything for us. Another one of my Betas is Sandro. Alessandro. My second in command. We met during freshmen orientation in college and clicked almost instantly. Have been inseparable ever since. When I brought him home the first time, mom looked at dad and said: Look, it's Luka in another body. Our parents often joked how they could each take the wrong son home and nobody would notice cause we're so similar. It's eerie. "
Their food came out and they interrupted their talk to thank the waiter and dig in before Luka resumed talking. "Sandro was human when we met but after a while, he noticed my family was hiding something. He confronted me and after consulting with my Alphas I came clean to him. Thank god cause when he was twenty-five, he go involved with a lone Alpha and said Alpha got a bit too excited in bed. Right before a full moon. Sandro showed up at our doorstep, bloodied and already on the verge of transforming. Dad took one look at him and dragged him to the basement where we keep a cage for those things.  I stayed with him the whole night and after that, it was more or less clear he would become part of the pack. Sandro helped me a lot after my parents' death. He took charge when I couldn't do it and held the pack together. That's why he became my second in command, just like Theo is for you." Luka drank from his water. "We have two other women in the pack. Bryn and Lynn. Laugh if you want, their rhyming names are a running joke in our pack. Bryn I know for almost her whole life. How fit are you in werewolf genetics?" Liam snorted. "That a thing? I'd give it a solid zero." "To keep it simple: The werewolf gene is dominant most of the time. Werewolf parents will have werewolf children. Even if only one parent is a wolf, the child likely will be one as well. The chances are even higher by born wolves rather than bitten ones. But if you have several generations of werewolves mixing with humans there is a slight possibility to have a human child even as werewolf parents. In Bryn's family case it was the opposite. There had been some wolves here and there, some of them had been in contact with my father's pack, but for generations, there were only humans. Until Bryn was born. Boom. Human parents with a werewolf baby." "You're kidding me!" Liam was amazed at how crazy nature could get. "Absolutely not. But her family knew about werewolves and so they knew the name of my father's pack. They grabbed their daughter and moved closer to us, showed up at our door, and kindly asked my parents to help them. To make having yet another child running around somewhat plausible, we started calling Bryn Delany's and my second cousin. We kept this til this day and mostly refer to her as our cousin. Lynn, on the other hand, was bitten after a night of clubbing and then left to die. Mom found her somewhere in the ditch and brought her home. We were not sure she would survive but that girl is tough as nails. Don't underestimate her." "She reminds me of Sadie. One should never underestimate Sadie as well. She will kick your ass and probably gnaw on your bones without ruining her makeup." "Somehow that description also fits Maddie and Savannah", Luka realized. Liam had to agree with that. "Anyway, you said you had seven Betas. One's missing." "The latest addition to the pack before my parents died. Will. He's Sandro's cousin, full-blood-related this time. They have been close while growing up and he visited one time. This family is good at picking up things and he got curious. We never got to explain to him everything cause a hostile pack attacked and he was wounded badly. Dad turned him in an attempt to save his life. It worked and Will moved to live with us. Funny enough, he and Holden clicked almost as instantly as Sandro and I did. They just balance each other a bit better. Hopefully. One's a hothead, the other is too cocky for his own good sometimes. I think the day these two linked, Simon's world kinda ended. He had several gray hairs more after that day. Lynn once kept a tally which one had to get bailed out of jail more often..." Luka tilted his head. "Huh, wondered what happened to that. I think I was the third place..." Liam smirked and Luka gave him an innocent smile. "I mean, we are all law-abiding citizens and never do anything wrong. We stick together and love each other, as a family should." "So do we. My pack and I. They're my family and I don't want to miss anyone of them." "Tell you what, Liam, why don't you and you pack visit us? We could have a BBQ party. Next Friday, is that good?" "That's a great idea. I'll check with the pack and text you."
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When I started this story, I imagined how many chapters this might will have and thought sixty was a good number. Now we are at chapter 60 and this story is far from over. I can't believe that. It's absolutely amazing and I want to thank every single one of my readers for the support. You all are amazing! Thank you!!!
In regards to this chapter, I like the friendship between Luka and Liam. They both are on the same wavelength and get each other. And it was fun working out Luka's Betas. In the next chapter, both packs will fully meet each other. I am excited.
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awhitehead17 · 4 years ago
Text
Everything’s Out Of Control
Chapter 7 / Previous Chapter
Also on AO3
A/N:  Here's the final chapter! I hope you've all enjoyed reading this as I had a blast writing it, it's been interesting mixing these characters together!
Enjoy! :D
The next morning happened to be a quiet affair. While it wasn’t uncomfortable, the four of them going about breakfast as easily as any of the other mornings they have spent together, today however seemed to have an atmosphere of tension lingering around.
It reminds Tim of back home when he's getting ready to go on a mission with either the Titans or his family, a mission that had high risks and unpredictable outcomes.
The situation was that Tim and Kon were finally being sent home that morning. Magnus has apparently collected everything off the list Zatanna needs and is able to send them back home. Tim is more than ready to return back to a world that actually makes sense. After experiencing this world, he’s more than happy to keep demons and vampires nothing more than myths and Halloween ideology.
For the first time since arriving to this world, Tim is dressed in all of his gear, minus the belts and mask. This is because they were planning on leaving straight after breakfast, it simply saves a bit of time being already dressed. Kon on the other hand, is dressed in a new pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, as his other ones were completely wrecked by a demon upon first entering this world. Not that they were a huge difference from his superhero ‘costume’ anyway.
As they were finishing up breakfast Magnus announces that he’s going to go get everything set up for sending them home. Alec soon disappears too, announcing he needs to get ready for work because as soon as they have gone he’s heading to the Institute. With both men gone, that leaves just Tim and Kon sat in silence at the table.
Tim glances at his best friend before quickly averting his gaze away. He thinks back to the conversation last night, how Magnus and Alec both seemed so sure that Kon wanted more than a friendship with Tim. He finds it hard to believe. While he would love to admit that they were right and it’s obvious, he just can’t. He needs to be real about this scenario and if being slightly pessimistic and in denial is the way to handle it then so be it.
“I can’t wait to go back home.” Kon comments sighing, he slumps in his seat and rolls his head around sluggishly to look at Tim. “It’s been what, a few days, and I’m actually missing the Tower. I’m even missing Bart’s non-stop chatter.”
That gets Tim to smile. “I’m looking forward to being back in a place that makes sense.” He pauses before adding on. “This mission has certainly been an interesting one.”
Kon snorts and sends him an amused look. “That's an understatement Tim. If it wasn’t for the start this mission has actually been pretty smooth sailing.”
“What’s a mission without someone either getting injured or nearly dying?” Tim deadpans.
“I know!” Kon exclaims, ignoring Tim’s sarcasm. “Usually it’s you who ends up being injured or something.”
“Kon.” Tim warns him. This is skirting into dangerous territory.
His best friend shoots him an apologetic look, fully knowing the meaning behind his sharp tone. “Sorry. Just trying to make light of the situation.”
Tim sighs. “I know.” His words drift in the air between them until Tim speaks up again, trying to continue the light tone Kon had been going for. “Just for the record, I do not always ‘get injured or something’ on mission’s. And when I do get injured, it’s usually because I’m cleaning up the mess you and Bart left behind.”
“Do be so dramatic. And you’re wrong.” Kon says grinning. “It’s usually Cassie who cleans up after me and Bart, you just happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. That doesn’t make it our faults.”
Tim couldn’t help but huff out a laugh at that. There had been several occasions where Tim’s gotten hurt one way or another because of unfortunate positioning and nothing more. “Realistically I think Cassie actually cleans up after all of us. How many times has she single-handily saved our asses before? She’s the real hero here.”
Chuckling, Kon agrees easily. “That’s very true. We all know not to mess with Cassie.”
The lightness between them only lasts for a few moments. As they quieten, it slips away and Tim becomes serious again. “Anyway, we’ve still got to get home yet. Anything could happen between here and there.”
Next to him, he hears Kon take a deep breath and as he lets it out as a long sigh. His best friend then sits up in his chair and stretches across the table to place a hand on Tim’s forearm in comfort. “Tim it’ll be fine. Magnus knows what he’s doing.”
Without thinking about it, Tim reaches out and takes Kon’s hand off his arm, only to lace their fingers together. He finds the touch, warmth and weight of his friend’s hand grounding. Any protest he was about to voice quickly dies, instead he gives Kon’s hand a squeeze. “Yeah…”
Their moment in the kitchen is broken a few beats later when Magnus’s voice calls for them from somewhere in the apartment. Tim and Kon share a knowing look and let one another go so they could go and find the warlock.
After Tim grabs his belts and mask, they find Magnus, and even Alec, waiting for them in the living room. Tim makes a note that all the furniture has been pushed to the side to create a space in the middle of the room. Just to the side of that space is the warlock himself carrying a satchel bag over one shoulder and is holding a thick book in one hand. Alec is stood at his side, holding a bowl out in front of him with both hands.
Magnus perks up when he sees them enter the room. “Everything is ready, all I need is a strand of hair from the both of you.”
Tim frowns at the unusual request and glances at Kon who’s wearing a similar expression.
Seeing their hesitance, the warlock explains, “It’s part of the spell I have to perform. It’ll help locate your world’s signature which will therefore allow me to create a portal which will send you to the right place. In simple terms, it’s for precision.”
Tim sighs and plucks a hair from his head. While not looking pleased about it, Kon replicates the action a moment later. Alec holds the bowl out towards them and wordlessly they drop their hair into the bowl.
“When I cast this spell, a portal will open up, once open you can step through it and it should lead you right to where you first left your world to begin with.”
Tim nods in understanding. He could feel a mixture of anticipation and anxiety building up inside of him at what they have to do. He nods in silent understanding and sees Kon do the same.
Still beside Magnus, Alec speaks up. “The bag Magnus.”
The warlock looks surprised for a moment before lightening up. “Of course! The whole point of this trip and I almost forgot. Thank you Alexander.” Turning to Tim and Kon, Magnus takes the satchel off his shoulder and holds it out for one of them to take.
Tim does so carefully, feeling the weight of it in his hands. He's surprised to find that it’s rather light and wonders what the contents inside of it are. Curiosity getting the better of him, Tim reaches down to open the bag up only to stop when Magnus yells at him.
“No! Do not open that bag!” Tim looks wide eyed at the man, his hand only centimetres away from the bags latch. “Do not open that bag Timothy. The contents of it are for Zatanna’s eyes only. Inside is all of the items she has requested along with the spell itself. Once you are back home immediately give it to her, but for Lilith’s sake do not open it.”
“What would happen if we open it?” Kon asks, eyes flickering between the bag and the warlock.
“Nothing good, I can assure you that.”
Deciding to not ask any more questions, Tim finally moves his hand away and shoulders the bag, letting it fall down at his side. Seeming satisfied that his order is being followed, Magnus turns his attention to the book and to the bowl in Alec’s hand.
Tim and Kon watch with fascination as Magnus begins the spell, speaking in a language neither of them had heard of before, and as magic pours from his hand into the bowl.
A few tense moments go by before the bowl begins to glow brightly, letting out a white light before it starts to pulse. They watch as the pulsing only gradually increases in speed which it then becomes difficult to follow. Just as it couldn’t get any faster, there’s a loud popping sounding coming from the bowl which makes Tim, Kon and even Alec startle at the sound.
Magnus is unfazed however, with the hand currently pouring magic into the glowing bowl, he flicks his wrist up and a ball of energy appears from the bowl. Tim only has a second to the blinking ball of energy before Magnus is thrusting his hand out and pushing the ball away from him towards the middle of the room. With one last shout of words, Magnus flicks his hand again and then there’s suddenly a glowing oval in the middle of the room.
It’s very much like the one Zatanna created at the very start of this whole mission, the only difference being this is glowing blue while Zatanna’s was white.
Magnus takes a deep breath and relaxes his posture, closing the book in his hands and turning his attention to Tim and Kon.
Sticking an arm out, the warlock smirks. “Your portal awaits.”
Tim shares a look with Kon and with a nod of encouragement they step closer to the portal. Standing at its entrance Tim could feel the pull of it, almost like it’s trying to suck him into it. He couldn’t see anything inside of it which wasn’t reassuring but he shakes those thoughts and turns to the men watching them intensely.
“Thank you,” Tim says to them both, making sure his tone is full of gratitude, “for everything you’ve done for us both. We really appreciate it.”
“Yeah what Tim said.” Kon adds on. “Thank you for saving my life even when you didn’t have to. It’s certainly an interesting world that you’ve got here.”
“You’re welcome.” Magnus replies with a smile.
“Just take care of yourselves,” Alec says looking at them both, almost protectively. The words and look reminds Tim of Dick, there’s certainly a resemblance and he chalks it up to Alec’s brother instincts coming out. “Nothing is predictable, so enjoy every moment you can and don’t regret anything.”
His gaze lingers on Tim as he speaks and Tim instantly picks up the double-meaning of his words.
Oblivious to Tim’s blush, Kon speaks up smiling at the man. “Ain’t that the truth. Both of you take care too.”
“As you both step through the portal, think about your home and then you’ll appear there.”
They nod again and this time when they step towards the portal, Kon holds a hand out to Tim. Without hesitating Tim takes it. “Watchtower?”
“Watchtower.” Kon agrees easily.
With one more glance at the men, they nod their thanks and step through the portal, both of them being engulfed by a bright light.
-------
The scene they happen to stumble upon as they exit the portal was one Tim would never forget. Still holding hands, he and Kon tumble out of the portal and into another room. As the portal closes behind them Tim observes their surroundings, looking to see if they had in fact made it home or not.
His body is tense and prepared for any potential threat that could appear but when he turns and finds a group of familiar looking people he simply freezes in place instead.
There in the middle of the room were most of the Justice League members, all of whom were staring at Tim and Kon with expressions ranging from surprise and suspicion.
A quick glance beyond the JL members informs Tim that they are in the conference room of the Watchtower. He frowns, didn’t Magnus say that they should end up in the place where they first started this mission? Technically speaking they should have appeared in the training room, not the conference room. He thinks about it and realises that really the conference room was where Zatanna briefed them, therefore giving them the mission, maybe that's what the magic interpreted   instead.
“Well this is awkward.” Kon comments breaking his thoughts.
Tim fights the urge to both hit his best friend and to simply bolt out of the room. Everyone in the room is still staring at them and Tim is frozen, unsure on what to make of the situation. How was he supposed to explain magically appearing from out of nowhere and stumbling in on them having what he assumes is a meeting?
A slight pressure from his hand grabs his attention and Tim turns to find that he and Kon were still holding hands, he only realised this after Kon gave his a squeeze. Instantly Tim is snatching his hand back, the movement is quick that it makes it seem like Kon’s touched burned him or something. A flash of hurt and surprise crosses Kon’s face and Tim tries to ignore it like the way he tries to ignore the way his hand now feels cold without Kon’s heating it up.
Realising that they were still being watched, Tim slips into his Red Robin persona. He knows these people, this was a situation he could control unlike the last 48 hours. He clears his throat and stands up straighter, putting his hands behind his back in a formal position.
“Sorry for bargaining in unannounced, that was not our intention.” He addresses the room, his eyes through his mask looking at each hero sat around the table. Upon not seeing a particular person he speaks up again. “Does anyone happen to know where we may find Zatanna, it’s a matter of emergency that we speak with her.”
Tim prides himself for not withering as he talks. Why is it only now that his self-control comes back? Where was it two days ago when he and Kon were being attacked in a back alley by a demon? When he actually needed it.
“Red Robin,” Batman calls his attention. Tim sends a small smile at his adoptive father, strictly keeping this moment professional. There’s no doubt about it that Bruce will find him later and pin him down with questions and the demand for answers. “Its good to see you and Superboy unharmed. Zatanna is currently in her room here in the Watchtower and has asked to not be disturbed no matter what.”
Tim feels a pang of annoyance course through him, because how typical. Then again this was a special circumstance, he's sure she’ll make an exception.
He sends Batman a look. “Thank you for the warning, well be on our way now. Sorry about rudely crashing in on your meeting.”
Without any more words, and before Bruce could protest, Tim grabs Kon’s forearm and drags the half-Kryptonian behind him as he leaves the conference room. Once they were out of sight Tim lets him go but continues his journey towards the sorceress’ room.
It’s quiet between the two of them as they walk and as much Tim wants to address this awkwardness that has once again fallen between them, he know he needs to hand this satchel over to Zatanna first. Once that was out of the way, the mission would officially be over and then he can work on his personal problems and issues.
They finally come face to face with Zatanna’s room door which appeared to be nothing more than a simple grey door with a metal handle, though Tim knows there’s probably alarms or magic surrounding it somehow acting as a failsafe.
Without hesitance Tim reaches out and taps on the door with his knuckles. “Zatanna I know you don’t want to be disturbed but Superboy and I are back from the mission you sent us on and we have something to give to you.” Tim steps back and waits patiently.
To both of their surprise, only seconds go by before the door is yanked opened and Zatanna is stepping through it out into the corridor. She looks at him expectantly and then spots the bag hanging from his shoulder. A grateful look crosses her face.
“Thank you, both of you, for completing this for me. I hope there wasn’t too much trouble? Were you able to find Magnus Bane easily?”
Tim opens his mouth to reply but hesitates as he reflects back over the last few days. He looks at Kon who appeared to be having the same hesitance, “Well…”
“It was interesting,” Kon offers up after a moment with a tight smile. “Finding Magnus was easier than expected to be honest. He accepted who we were and what you wanted. As soon as he was done, he sent us home.”
Tim nods along, deciding to not interrupt. What Kon said was the foundation of it, of course leaving out a lot of detail but they were irrelevant to Zatanna. He takes the bag off his shoulder and passes it over.
“Thank you again, I owe you one.” She says again taking the satchel from him.
Tim hums in acknowledgement, he’ll keep that in mind. Then the magician was turning around and stepping back into her room, shutting the door behind her.
Next to him Kon sighs heavily and slumps against the wall, running his hands down his face. “Thank god that mission is over. I don’t think I want to go dimension traveling again for a while.”
“That’s an understatement,” Tim agrees easily, smiling at him.
They fall into silence yet again and Tim could feel the tension and thickness of it. It’s practically suffocating.
As they stand there, Magnus and Alec’s words come back to Tim. He thinks them over, wondering if he should trust the men, have belief in what they saying about his best friend and the feelings they may share for one another.
Tim opens his mouth to speak up, to say what exactly he wasn’t sure, but he closes it again unable to find his voice. He tries again only to have the same outcome. In the end he gives up, unable to make himself bring up the topic that’s lying so heavily between them.
He couldn’t do it. The risk of losing Kon is too high despite the men’s words.
He sighs and mentally gathers his thoughts once again. This time when he opens his mouth to talk, he’s successful in speaking however only with words he hadn’t been planning on. “I’ll see you around Kon.”
Tim leaves then, unable to be there anymore. Putting his back to Kon, who’s still leaning against the wall, Tim starts heading down the corridor. Now he’s back home he could head for Gotham, maybe hide out in one of his safe houses around the city or even the Manor for a few weeks before emerging once again. After this mission it may be best to put some distance between him and Kon until the awkwardness disappears on it’s own and in time.
“Tim, wait!”
Tim stops abruptly at the unexpected call. For a few seconds he could hear footsteps thumping against the floor heading towards him. When they stop Tim expects a hand to land on his shoulder, an action that Kon usually does when he wants to talk about something, so Tim’s greatly surprised when two hands grab his upper arms and jerk him around to face the other way.
He only gets the chance to let out a startled sound before there were sudden lips covering his own.
It’s such a shock that Tim remains frozen in place as the lips press against his own. It’s only when they move away from his that he finally reacts. Without thinking he reaches up, cups Kon’s face his hands and drags him back in for another kiss, one that he actually responds too this time.
The sound that Kon makes is one from the back of his throat and Tim unintentionally mimics it. They groan as their lips slide against one another, the kiss only growing deeper with each passing second and then becomes even more heated when their heads tilt accordingly causing their movements to become even more fluid.
With his eyes closed, Tim basks in the moment. Feeling the way Kon’s firm chest is pressed against his own. Feeling the heat coming from the other body and the way his heart is pounding with excitement because of it. Feeling the movement of Kon’s hands as they slide down his arms and wrap around his back, pulling his hips into Kon’s. Then finally feeling how soft and skilful Kon’s lips were against his own.
After some time they break apart, both of them breathing heavily. Tim opens his eyes and finds Kon staring right back at him, like he's the only thing to exist in that moment. Unable to help it but Tim gets lost as he looks up at Kon, looking into his sharp blue eyes as they stare back.
Everything snaps back into motion moments later, his brain clearing away the fog that had crossed his mind. Kon kissed him. He kissed Kon back. Kon had called to him and pulled him into a kiss, one of which Tim immediately followed up with his own.
What did this mean? Surely it’s too good to be true…. Did Tim actually return home and pass out with exhaustion, this could be a really weird vivid dream?
A bop on his nose makes him blink and Kon comes into focus once again. This time the Kryptonian was smiling fondly at him. “You’re thinking too hard.”
Tim sends him a half hearted glare. “I am not.”
Kon’s eyebrows raise in a sceptical manner. “Really?”
“Shut up.” Tim mumbles looking away, feeling a blush rush across his face. It’s only then that he realises he's still got Kon’s face in his hands and that Kon’s arms are still wrapped around him, holding him intimately close. For the first time, Tim finds that he doesn’t care and doesn’t do anything to change their position. He even finds it comforting.
His thumbs stroke over the skin of Kon’s cheekbones in a light caress as he looks back up at Kon, meeting his eyes once again.
He won’t push you away because he’s feeling the exact same way.
“You want this?” Tim asks in a hushed whisper. “Something more?”
“For a lot longer than I care to admit,” Kon responds back just as quietly, “something’s been off for a while, I thought it would eventually go away but it never did. For a while it’s been feeling like there’s something missing between us, like there should be something more and I know you’ve been feeling it too. That’s probably why there’s been so many awkward moments between us recently.”
“Just a bit.” Tim admits. He takes a deep breath and lets the words fall from his mouth, everything he had been bottling up finally spilling out. “I’ve been wanting something more with you for a long time. Even longer than I realised. I’m scared because I feel like if I told you my feelings then I’d lose you. Our friendship is everything to me, I would rather have not said anything than to have said something then to have lost you.”
Kon lets out a soft laugh at his admission, a brief feeling of hurt and anger flashes through him until Kon speaks up. “That’s exactly what I thought too. Rao we’re idiots.”
A burst of giddiness pulses through Tim and he couldn’t help the grin that takes over his face. After a moment Tim moves, he lets go of Kon’s face and wraps his arms around the Kryptonian’s neck to hug him properly. Kon accommodates the move easily enough and squeezes him in the embrace.
When they pull away from one another, Kon presses a surprising kiss to his temple. Tim smiles at the action and grabs Kon’s hand in his own. Now the moments died down a little, Tim realises that they’re in the middle of the corridor, having never actually left the Watchtower. Fighting the urge to blush, he tugs Kon’s hand and together they head down the corridor.
“So, why did you kiss me?” Tim asks glancing at Kon.
Kon shrugs and sends him easy smile. “I got brave. Decided to say fuck it and go for what I wanted.”
Tim laughs. “Well I’m not complaining. I had a complete meltdown over this whole thing. Magnus and Alec were a big help though, I spoke to them about this and they helped to settle my mind. They even thought we were together at the start.”
“Really? Huh. I guess we weren’t that subtle about our attraction to one another, I can’t believe neither of us noticed it.”
“We got there in the end though.” Tim smiles. He stops walking and faces Kon, linking both of their hands together.
Kon looks down at him, his eyes shining with happiness. He ducks his head and captures Tim’s lips in a kiss, one of which Tim instantly returns. He hums appreciatively. Why hasn’t he ever done this before? What had he been so worried about? Why does it feel so natural?
They part and Tim meets his eyes. “We have a lot to talk about, this, us. It’s been a long couple of days so if you’re not needed at the farm, why don’t we watch a film and grab some snacks?”
Kon hums, nodding. “I know, but we’ve got time and that sounds perfect. Can I ask one request though?”
“What’s that?”
“Amongst the film and snacks that there’ll be some making out involved?”
Tim snorts and smacks Kon lightly on the shoulder. “Well duh.”
Kon smirks, bending down again he presses a kiss to his lips and moves back ever so slightly, “Great, because now I’ve had a taste of this, I’m planning on making up some lost time.”
Tim replies back with a harder press of his lips. Perhaps things do work out after all.
------ 
Once the two young figures disappear through the portal, it closes behind them and for the first time in a couple of days it’s just Alec and Magnus in the loft once again.
“Do you think they’ll work it out?” Alec asks, turning to his boyfriend.
“I’m sure they will, believe it or not Alexander.” Magnus replies back smoothly, smiling softly. “Love always finds a way, even in the most pressing and unpredictable times.”
“Yeah I guess it does.” Alec says smiling back, feeling all of his love and affection for the warlock in front of him stronger than ever before.
He hopes the boys work it out between them. Not too long ago he had been in similar shoes, too scared to give in to his wants and desires, afraid of losing something if he did so. In the end the pull was too strong and Alec took the leap and by the angel he does not regret it. Not a single bit.
He hopes Tim and Conner can find the same peace he's been luckily enough to find. From the short time they spent together he could tell the boys have been through some hard times, so he wants them to have the happiness that they both clearly deserve.
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