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bellysoupset · 1 month ago

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Dad

This has been a long time coming. Jon having a vertigo episode alone with his dad... here goes nothing!

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"Weird..." Jonah mumbled, squinting at Jasper's text: Hey kiddo, wanna catch lunch this Saturday in Portland? My treat!

"What's weird?" Leo was curled up under the blankets already, a book on his lap and his right hand turning the pages, while the left one was under the covers to pet JD. He didn't look away from his book, turning a page and continuing to read.

"My dad wants to have lunch Saturday. I wasn't aware he was even in Portland..."

"Oh, that's nice. The wedding is 30 days away, it'd make sense he wants to see you before the big thing," Leo yawned, smiling when JD snuck her little head from under the blankets, in order to try and bite the satin marker hanging off his book, "don't invite me, I'm not going."

"Aw, c'mon," Jonah pouted, although it hadn't even crossed his mind to invite Leo until he mentioned it. He figured his father would've been a little more clear about the invite including the blonde.

"Nope," Leo shrugged, slipping the page, "tell him you'll go."

"You're not the boss of me," Jonah scoffed, falling on the bed and grabbing JD by the middle, snatching her away from Leo, "and give me my cat, read your damn book."

Leo was still shaking with giggles as Jonah texted back "sure, but I pick the place."

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He had picked the Fore Street restaurant, that was just outside the old Port and served some of the best seafood Jonah had ever tasted. He had been there twice already, once with Leo and once with Wendy, so Jon couldn't blame his nerves in simply going out to a new place.

Part of him hated that he was twenty five and still got nervous to hang out with his own father, but when one had been an afterthought all their life, it was bound to happen.

"Jonah!" Jasper was jogging towards him, his ultra white teeth in display as he smiled, hair carefully maneuvered into soft waves that weren't his natural texture, trench coat swinging around him, "hi buddy-"

Before Jon could say a word, his father tugged him into a hug. He still smelled the same as Jonah remembered, the same smell of fancy perfume and iodine.

"Hi Jasper," Jonah mumbled, his voice coming out muffled by his dad's coat. The man was as tall as he was, maybe even an inch taller, "how are you?"

"Good, good," Jasper pulled back, squeezing his nape in an affectionate manner, "how are you? You look strong. Congratulations on the engagement, I trust you got my gift?"

Jonah bit down the urge to roll his eyes, as if his father wasn't aware they had gotten the twin set of expensive watches. That type of gift was closely tracked, "yeah, Leo was over the moon, thank you."

"No need to thank me, kiddo," Jasper shook his head, "Leo is a nice kid."

It was so weird having his dad know about whom he was dating. Know them, like them... Jonah threw his father a little weirded out glance, shrugging, "he's great, yeah."

Together they walked inside the restaurant, Jon rattling out his reservation, while Jasper was a couple steps behind, happy to let him lead. Their table was on the deck, an iron balcony giving them a seaside view and their table was made of a thick dark glass bolted to various branches of driftwood.

"This is such a nice little gem of a place," Jasper commented, making Jonah roll his eyes. He had forgotten his father's need to be so nice all the time.

"So, what is this about?" he asked, straight to business, as soon as they placed their orders and were alone once again. Jasper looked spooked, looking away from the ocean.

"Pardon me?"

"This," Jonah gestured to them, "us. This doesn't happen."

His father's brows met in a frown, "aren't you happy?"

It made Jon cringe, the idea that this whole farse of a lunch was for his benefit, "what prompted it? New girlfriend?"

Jasper looked wounded at the implication, no matter how truthful Jon was being in his accusation. It had happened before, his dad got a new girlfriend who for a week entertained the idea of mending their little broken family, so he put in an effort... And that was it. It normally vanished within the week.

Camila, Angie's mom, had done this too at the very start. Before she decided she wanted Jonah gone altogether.

"I don't need to have a new girlfriend to want to see my son," now Jasper sounded offended, "and no, there's no one."

Jonah gritted his teeth, opening his mouth to retort, but before he even could his father went on.

"I talked with Jackie."

Oh, there it was. The old age rivalry between Jasper and Jackie. It was a cornerstone of his childhood, before Jackie had left, and the reason Luke still didn't like either of his parents, since he had watched Jonah be bounced around like a ping pong ball between them. Even when he had graduated, Jasper hadn't confirmed he'd attend until Jackie had.

"Here we go," Jonah leaned back on the chair, arms crossed to his chest, "what is it? You're upset she was told about the wedding fir-"

"Are you sure about all of this, kiddo?" Jasper completely ignored Jonah's spiel, meeting his eyes, "you're young, you're just twenty five... Are you sure you want to get married? Isn't this you just sticking up a middle finger to us, because we failed so badly at it?"

Jonah's mouth was suddenly dry, eyes widening at what his dad was implying, "you have some fucking nerve," he hissed, throwing the napkin back on the table, "some fucking nerve to suggest I don't love Leo- That I'm getting married because of you! How self involved-"

"That's not what I said," Jasper glared at him, still sitting down, head tipped back so he could his son in the eye as Jonah jumped up, "I'm not saying-"

The floor swam under Jonah. As if someone had just pulled out a rung from under him, Jon lost his balance and tipped back, aimlessly trying to grab on anything to keep himself standing. His fingers closed around the table cloth, but that didn't keep him from going down or bringing down everything with him.

Something crashed, loudly, and then there was a sharp pain on his side and the world kept on spinning, spinning, spinning-

"Jonah!?" JONAH?!" Jasper was patting his cheeks, "open your eyes, Jonah, look at me- Look at me, what are you feeling? What's wrong?"

There was more shouting, but Jonah couldn't keep his eyes open. Not only the edges of his father's figure were blurred and unfolding into doubles, but the rest of the room was swaying... It felt like the floor under him was going up and down like a trampoline.

Jonah bit his lip, trying to keep the nausea at bay as his stomach churned, the vestiges of breakfast suddenly feeling like too much. He wanted to cry, he hadn't had a vertigo episode in so long he had almost thought they were gone.

"...Ambulance, Fore Street, 288-"

"Noo'mmlance," Jonah mumbled, trying to find something to steady himself in the hurricane happening around him, "no'ick."

"That's okay, sweetheart," Jasper ignored his plea, although he did take Jonah's hand in his, squeezing it tightly, "we're gonna get you checked out really soon."

Annoyed, Jonah forced his eyes open once more so he could glare at his dad. Couldn't Jasper listen to him just once?

"I'm not-" his mouth was salivating and Jon gulped down, "notsssick. I have- I have vertigo..." it was all too much effort and his stomach threw in the towel, wrecking his frame with gags. More shouting above his head, his father was commandeering someone- The smell of seafood did him in.

Jonah lurched forward with a heave as the smell that would've been fine ten minutes before suddenly caused nausea to overwhelm him. Breakfast rushed up in the tail end of a belch and Jon curled up as the act of retching caused the pressure on his temples to grow worse, the whole room close in on him.

"I got you, I got you," his father's voice eventually filtered through all the chaos. A different tone, not like his usual overtly niceness, much more firm, "I'll take this, thank you."

Then he was grabbing Jonah by his arms, pulling him up. Jon stumbled, aimlessly, unsure of where the hell he was being guided to, only that the room was still turning and that he still felt horribly sick, stomach churning at the motion sickness and the sensation he couldn't trust his next step.

"Watch your head," Jasper's hand planted on top of Jonah's head, lowering it- He sat down somewhere. The smell of an overtly clean car, air fresheners.

"Dad," Jonah groaned, trying to warn him he was about to be sick again. He didn't want to ruin his father's car — Was it his car or a rental? Had Jasper flown in? The fact that Jonah didn't know this also bothered him.

"Lean back, kiddo," Jasper was fiddling with his seat, "deep breaths, we're not moving."

He tried, really tried, to take deep, measured breaths, but his stomach was too sour due the vertigo and Jonah's inhale turned into a gag. He lurched to cup a hand in front of his lips, but Jasper got to him quickly, lowering his wrist back down.

"That's okay, get it up," he said softly, planting a hand on Jonah's shoulder, "I got this handled, Jonah."

It was all he needed to hear for his stomach to immediately give in, the lack of oxygen getting to him and making the dizziness even worse. Without meaning, Jonah sank straight into his father's arms, burying his face into his chest as he continued to dry heave.

Next thing he was actually conscious for, he was lying in a huge bed. Very soft. Detailed chandelier with dimmed lights on. Wallpaper. A hotel room.

He shifted on the bed, the memories from before slowly drifting back and then jerked away, startled, as a hand met his arm. Jasper was sitting on one side of the king sized bed, a concerned frown on, an ice bucket in his hand-

"...Dad?"

"That's right," Jasper answered, as if Jon could ever mistake him for someone else, voice breaking slightly, "how are you feeling?"

"Hmm," Jonah squeezed his eyes, wanting to push himself further up on the pillows, but scared of getting dizzy all over again, "better... Queasy... Thirsty."

Without asking for permission Jasper wrapped a hand around Jonah's wrist, counting his pulse, "can you follow the light for me, Jon?"

He opened the lantern of his phone and Jonah flinched at the sudden bright beam, but then relaxed and followed it from side to side. He knew he must've scared Jasper to hell and back, Jonah couldn't remember a single time he had acted like this. But then again, Jon hadn't been a sickly kid.

"Perfect," Jasper mumbled, turning off the lantern and then getting up so he could grab something in the mini fridge. He came back a second later, with a Gatorade bottle and a straw sticking out of it, and held it to Jon's lips, not letting him hold the bottle, "small sips."

Jonah greedily drained the drink, letting out an annoyed groan as the older man pulled the bottle out of his reach after a couple sips, planting it on the bedside table, "how's the vertigo?"

Jon shrugged, avoiding his father's intense glare. He had piercing dark eyes, not hazel like his own, "better..."

"Since when do you have vertigo?" Jasper sat on the small space next to Jon on the bed, instead of the opposite side, so his thigh was touching Jonah's hand and he was looming over him, "is it Ménière's?"

"Yes," Jonah used his father's leg as leverage to push himself up against the pillows, then took several deep breaths as the room spun, much slower this time. He waited until it stopped, "got diagnosed on the last year of college."

Jasper was frowning at him, looking almost angry, and again Jonah couldn't remember quite witnessing this before. He had seen his father pissed off — more often than not at Jackie — but it was rarely directed at him, he had always just been an afterthought or a "roommate", not quite his child.

"And I never heard about this?"

"What's going on?" It was Jon's turn to frown, glaring at his dad, "inviting me for lunch, wanting to play dad all of sudden, what's up with this?"

"Play dad?" Jasper scoffed, rubbing his hands over his face. They were carefully manicured and gentle, surgeon hands, "...I owe you an apology, Jonah."

Of all the things he had expected to hear, this wasn't it. Defensiveness, anger, maybe, but not an apology.

"I wasn't a good father, you and I both know this. I prioritized my work over you and after that, Camilla's wishes over your needs," he looked small, despite the fact he was not, despondently staring at a spot in the blankets, "I came to my senses with the divorce..."

So not that long ago. Four years, maybe five...?

"And I erroneously thought our relationship had no chance of repair," Jasper twisted his hands nervously, eyes meeting Jonah's, "I wanted to reach out, but I was scared you'd reject me and I didn't- I didn't put in the effort. I focused on being a better father to Angelina than I had been to you, figured at least I could redeem myself with that... Then I talked with Jackie recently. Called her about your wedding-"

"And you still chose to go about it by accusing me of marrying Leo because of you?" Jonah scoffed, feeling exposed and vulnerable, ready to bite the hand his father was stretching, "shows how little you know me, if you- If you had been a father you'd know nothing about this is performative. I love Leo-"

"I know that," Jasper sounded frustrated now, "your mother told me that as well, but if there was even the slimmest chance you'd be marrying because of my mistakes, I needed to tell you, Jonah. I don't want to make your life worse, I want to see you happy- I want to be part of this happiness... And I know its a tall ask, to expect us to reconnect so late in life, but-"

"But you think because I offered mum the same grace, then I'd offer it to you," Jonah said bitterly, curling up his knees. He felt like a child now. He had wanted Jasper and Jackie to act like his parents most of his life and it felt unfair that they only arrived to their senses now that he was fully grown. Felt too easy, but that didn't stop him from yearning for it nonetheless, "I'll have you know I didn't."

"Pardon me?" Jasper frowned and Jonah let out a bitter chuckle.

"I didn't offer mum any grace, she reached out, she took the heat, she persisted- You don't have what it takes, dad," it was a challenge, a childish one but Jonah couldn't help himself. He wanted Jasper to contest this, to put in the fucking effort, after he had admitted to not reaching out because he was a coward.

"That's up to me, isn't it?" There was a hopeful tone in Jasper's voice, "to prove you wrong? All I need-"

"Is the reassurance I'll have you in my life?" Jonah interrupted him, "I can't give you that. I can't say I'll forgive you, its not how it works-"

"It's for you to let me try to be the dad you deserve, kiddo," Jasper ignored his interruption, "I know how to be a father. It took me a second child, a third divorce and both my children to resent me, but I know how to do it now. I just need the chance to show you."

Jonah's eyes stung and he wanted his father gone. He hadn't cried in front of him... Ever, probably. Ever since he gained consciousness of his actions as a child. He didn't plan on starting today, but there was a lump in his throat and he twisted the bed's cover, trying to reign in emotion.

He felt like he was being unjust, keeping Jasper out like this, when he had forgiven Jackie for worse. His mother had deserted him, but he had taken her back, what was Jasper's mistake compared to that... But he had taken too long, had been too much of a coward...

"You were invited to the wedding, weren't you?" Jonah forced out the words and saw his father's smile stretch out, whole face lighting up as he realized the opportunity he was being give — kept being offered — all along.

"And I'm very honored, Jon."

"Sure," Jonah mumbled, nodding and immediately regretting it, "...I- Don't you dare ruin it for us, for Leo. You'll be in your best behavior."

"I will," Jasper was smiling from ear to ear and it made Jonah frown even more, feeling a stab of annoyance as he folded so easily at the prospect of love.

"And you'll never, ever mention that fuckass idea about me marrying to prove you wrong to my husband. Ever," Jonah felt like he was a kid with his demands, drawing lines in the sand, "you got this? Leo's non negotiable, you make me pick between him and you and I'll pick him every time."

"I'll never bring that up again, I promise," Jasper was still smiling.

"And it'll be on my terms," Jonah's voice broke, collapsed as he all but agreed explicitly to his father's request of a second chance, "you'll not impose yourself into my life. It'll be on my terms."

"Alright," Jasper's smile faltered, face turning seriously, "but you'll tell me if you're sick? Or hurting...? It pains me that you went through Ménière's alone, Jonah, I should've been-"

"But you weren't," Jonah forced up his chin, meeting his father's eyes, "and you'll have to come to terms with that on your own. I'll not coddle you."

"I know," Jasper sounded slightly defeated, "I know... Let me get you something to eat, you threw up back at the restaurant... You must be starving."

Jonah collapsed back down against the pillows, feeling depleted after such a conversation, still dizzy, "I could eat..." he tried looking around, "where's my phone? How long has it been?"

"About four hours since you collapsed," Jasper grabbed his phone across the room, handing it to Jonah and the younger man scrolled through his messages. Leo, asking a mild "how's it going?"

"Do you want me to step out of the room...?"

Yes, "No," Jonah frowned at his own answer, surprised by it, "you can phone the kitchen from here, you don't have to go."

"Alright," Jasper walked across the room, sitting down next to the landline so he could call for room service, "then I'm not going anywhere."

#sickfic #mywriting #emeto #emetophilia #vertigo #jonah banks #emotional whump

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suzukiblu · 3 months ago

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Thank-you sentences for qwertynerd97 behind the cut; “the wet nurse omegaverse”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“He’s a little rough around the edges, definitely,” Clark says. “Doesn’t seem like a bad kid, just . . . he’s clearly been stray a long time, is all.”

“A kid who’s been stray for a long time?” Lois asks, cocking an eyebrow. Clark grimaces.

“He didn’t actually say, admittedly, but it seems that way,” he says. “And–well, he’s probably lost a litter. Recently. He doesn’t smell like a single pup and wasn’t supposed to be available for direct nursing, but was apparently capable of covering multiple clients’ needs.”

“. . . right,” Lois says. “And how old a ‘kid’ did we say this was again?”

“Twenty-two,” Clark replies with another grimace. That’s what the paperwork says, so Bruce doesn’t comment.

“Jesus.”

“It’s–concerning, yes,” Clark sighs. “Just . . . he doesn’t seem like a bad kid. Didn’t pretend to care that Bruce and I existed or defer to anyone that basic manners would’ve advised him to, but he was sweet with Lor and Jon. Didn’t know how to be sweet, exactly, but–well, he was trying to be. He seems like his heart’s in the right place.”

“He seems like he’s having a fucking time of it,” Lois mutters under her breath. “How many agencies did you say he’d worked for again?”

“Three, apparently,” Bruce says.

“Jesus.”

Clark grimaces again, and Bruce opens his mouth to–

“DAMIAN!” Tim shouts from the direction of the family dining room–not his “crisis situation” voice, mercifully, but very definitely his “I miss being an only child” voice. Which is technically preferable, Bruce reminds himself.

Technically.

“Well, at least we know the pups made it to dinner,” he says dryly. Lois snorts out a laugh, though she still looks stressed. Clark barely even manages to crack a smile.

Bruce really wishes they could all take a damn nap ‘til things were a little less emotionally fraught, but they really can’t fit a decade-long coma into any of their schedules, so they’re just going to have to work with things as they stand.

They arrive in the family dining room to what Bruce is going to politely call “utter goddamn nonsense that Alfred would absolutely not stand for if he were in the room”. Tim is leaning across the table and glaring daggers at Damian, who has a dagger palmed and is eyeing him with a pointedly unimpressed expression in return. Carl is sitting at the far end of the table with a contentedly cooing Lor cuddled up in his lap and an indignantly exasperated-looking Jon half-plastered to his side and scowling at Damian. Carl just looks skeptical, himself.

“Oh my god, kid, chill out, like nobody’s ever called me a whore before,” he snorts, rolling his eyes. Tim immediately turns red, then scowls at him instead of Damian.

“That doesn’t make it okay,” he protests, and Carl looks even more skeptical and cocks an eyebrow, lowering his glasses just enough to squint doubtfully at him.

“What, are you trying to defend my nonexistent virture?” he asks, and Tim turns absolutely crimson. “A: I didn’t ask, and B: what for?”

“I–that’s not–!” Tim sputters, his hands waving directionlessly between them. Jon frowns in confusion.

“The wet nurse is being compensated for his presence,” Damian says witheringly, obviously still disgusted with the idea. “I said nothing that was inaccurate.”

“What’s ‘defending your virtue’ mean?” Jon asks, still frowning.

“Like he’s trying to say I’m not a slu–” Carl starts, and Bruce interrupts with a very quick and very decided clearing of his throat. Tim jerks guiltily, Damian rolls his eyes and disappears his knife, and Jon snaps his head towards them and immediately lights up at the sight of Lois.

“Dad!” he exclaims excitedly, leaping across the room at her a little too far and fast for a fully-human pup to manage and throwing his arms around her. “You’re back!”

“Yeah, traffic was an issue, sorry, kiddo,” Lois says, scruffing her sire-scent affectionately over his hair before hugging him back and dropping a kiss into it. “How was school? Science test go okay?”

“. . . uh,” Jon says. “Yeah? Yes? Prrrrrobably?”

“I’ll go over it with you when you get it back,” Lois promises wryly, scruffing his hair again. “Or your mom will, whichever. Just whichever one of us doesn’t have either an article or a fussy toddler to wrestle into submission that night.”

“Okayyyyy,” Jon sighs, looking briefly disgruntled, but almost immediately lights back up and jumps back to pull at her arms, dragging her back towards the dinner table. “Did Mr. Wayne tell you we found somebody for Chris, come meet him, his name’s Carl, he’s super cool, he knows how to play Magic and OverPower and he’s got a Princess Lucrezia and two Howl-From-Behind cards and a leather jacket!”

Bruce probably should’ve expected an excited beta pup to want to introduce his sire to someone he was excited about having met. Or definitely should’ve, actually.

Dammit, he thinks, and doesn’t look over at Clark. Which therefore gives him a perfect view as Carl looks up from Lor, takes one look at Lois, and immediately does a double-take and blushes like a peach, his too-open and over-clumsy pheromones instantly turning both flustered and fawning. The kid doesn’t even try to rein them in.

. . . wonderful. Great. Just . . . just great, Bruce thinks, and represses the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. It’s not going to stave off the stress headache, at this point. At this point, in fact, a lobotomy wouldn’t stave off the stress headache.

Just–of course. Of course a stray omega who’s barely presented and clearly had a heavily neglectful upbringing would have alpha issues about one twice his age on sight. And of course that alpha would be Lois, and not literally any other option it could be.

And of course–of course–this would happen while Clark is already feeling some kind of way about the kid’s presence in the den and why he needs to be present in the den and his own self-worth as a mother and an omega, and therefore in no state of mind to dismiss another omega being flustered by Lois the same way he usually would. A younger omega who’s already both charmed and fed both of his pups and could, from a certain perspective, be very easily perceived as “needing” an alpha in a way that Clark himself, as an actual established adult and also Superman, very much does not.

Lois would never even look at the kid like that, obviously, and Bruce is sure that Clark knows Lois would never even look at the kid like that, but . . .

Well, Clark also grew up in a society that by and large carries certain opinions, same as the rest of them. And Clark is also exhausted and sleep-deprived, and also just spent all this time watching one of his pups slowly starving to death while feeling absolutely helpless to help him; while feeling a way that Superman very rarely does.

So yes, there are certain things that Clark’s omega is definitely, definitely feeling right now, Bruce is just as sure.

Maybe they should’ve tried a few more formula blends before resorting to the agencies after all.

“Chris thinks he’s cool too, they got a feral bond thing right away and Chris really liked his milk and wasn’t even scared of him or anything!” Jon says proudly, clearly absolutely and entirely oblivious to what the sudden changes in Carl’s pheromones imply. Absolutely and entirely oblivious to not only that, but also to any of the . . . well, implications that lie in a beta introducing one of their alpha packmates to a stray omega that they very clearly approve of while talking up said omega. Especially while talking up how good said omega is with pups, of all things. Just–very clearly oblivious to all of that potential social nuance.

Jon’s just a pup himself, of course, and obviously he’s not thinking like that. Obviously he’s not, because no normal psychologically-stable pup in a tight-knit pack with a sire and dam who loved both him and each other in equal measure would ever even have the thought of deliberately leading their sire to a potential mate other than their dam occur to them. Jon just wants to show off an exciting new presence in the den, nothing more. And besides, if the day’s pattern holds true, Carl doesn’t know enough about pack manners to even know those implications exist either way, so it’s not like he’d be thinking anything of it even if Jon weren’t a pup.

But Carl’s still all flushed and flustered-looking and he’d also instinctively–probably instinctively–straightened up in his seat at the sight and scent of Lois approaching his chair with Jon. Likely the way that shift had affected his posture was just as instinctive, considering.

Instinctive or not, though, now Carl is sitting with just enough curve in his spine that his chest’s a little pushed out and his head’s a little ducked and his bare and unmarked neck is clearly visible. And all the context to and extenuating circumstances of the situation aside, Clark is not oblivious in any way whatsoever.

Bruce very much needed to have thought of this possibility before letting Lois just walk into the dining room while Jon was still all keyed-up and excited, yes. Because obviously Lois wouldn’t even look at the kid, but that didn’t mean the kid might not look at her.

Dammit.

“Carl this is Dad Dad this is Carl he’s so cool he showed me both his decks and he said he’d play OverPower with me after dinner and I promise my homework’s already done so we’re gonna play OverPower after dinner okay!” Jon babbles eagerly as he pulls Lois to a halt a little too close to Carl’s chair. Carl flushes even redder and . . . well, he doesn’t lean away from Lois, but at least he doesn’t lean towards her.

He definitely does give her slightly too intent a look either way, but it’s mercifully brief, if nothing else. Unfortunately his head’s still ducked, so he gives her said look through his lashes and definitely gives off a certain . . . impression during the delivery, whether intentional or not.

“Uh, hey,” Carl says, and Jon beams in delight, half-bouncing in place. “Nice to meet you, man.”

“Nice to meet you too, kid,” Lois greets casually, neatly shifting her center of balance back a step as she tucks her hands into her blazer pockets. Carl makes a bit of a face over hearing “kid”; Bruce just hopes the very obvious point is clearly-enough made to help Clark settle his omega. “Lois Lane.”

“Yeah, everyone’s having a really nice time,” Tim grumbles sullenly under his breath as he folds his arms, scowling towards the kitchen door. He looks irritated about something–possibly still Damian saying questionable things to the new omega in the den, possibly something else–but Bruce really does not have the mental energy left to figure said something out right now. Just . . . if the issue is anything more than a passing annoyance and is an actual problem, Dick’ll have to get it out of him later. Not like Dick isn’t vastly better at doing that than he is anyway.

“‘Lois Lane’? Like the reporter?” Carl asks, wrinkling his nose a little.

#bruce wayne #superfamily #batfamily #kon el #conner kent #superboy #clois #wip: the wet nurse omegaverse #omegaverse #qwertynerd97

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cherrrydragon · 1 year ago

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➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER FOUR: WAY DOWN WE GO

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SUMMARY ↳ You make some major moves, risky major moves. “Yeah, I know. You’re not that easy.” You remove your hands from his shoulders and grasp his, lifting them off your hips. “Just like I know you’re trying to put a tracker on me.” You wretch the little device from his hands and crush it. “I’m not that easy either.”You pat his cheek. His expression doesn’t give anything away, but you know he’s annoyed his plans have been thwarted. “It was a good try though. You did your best.” You send a web to a nearby building, knowing that his eyes are scanning you to drink up every piece of information he can. You turn to him one last time before swinging away. “I’m just better.” pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: (attempted) bullying, you get a sword held at your neck (wonder whose fault that is), cursing wc: 6.5k

The next school day goes by in a blur of lectures you don’t pay attention to. The only thing on your mind is patrol and the looming task of getting back home.

Lunch is a brief respite from the busyness of the day. You sit alone to better hear your thoughts. You’ve long gotten used to your super hearing, but it’s still as loud as ever. The lunch is pretty good today, yet no match for your increased metabolism. You’re just grateful that your suit protects you from a lot. Super healing isn’t that useful when you’ve got no energy to heal with.

Your pencil moves in repeated strokes, steady. You’ve been putting your sketchbook to good use.

You hear footsteps approaching, and raise your head casually. You can’t help but widen your eyes when you see Damian walking to you.

He puts his tray down and sits, perfect posture and all. His eyes scan your drawings. “What is it?”

You blink, looking down at your drawings too. “It’s a… personal project.” You give your best winning smile. “I like to make things.”

You subtly turn the page so the one with all the formulas and equations is hidden away, only allowing Damian to see the sketches of what your new and improved nanite chamber would look like. “You’re hurting my feelings. What can I do to gain your trust?” It’s no subtle attempt to direct his attention from your drawings.

“Unnecessary. Forget about yesterday, it is in the past,” Damian says. Yeah, right. It’s obvious he’s playing nice in an attempt to lower your guard, but whatever. You can play along.

You pat his shoulder, smiling at his grimace. “You’re really bad at making friends. Don’t worry about it, first impressions aren’t everything.”

You lean back, crossing your arms. “So, now that we’re friends, tell me about yourself.”

“We are not friends.”

“We’re not enemies either.”

“That does not equate to us being friends,” he growls.

“But don’t you wanna know about me?” You lean in close. “Y’know, ‘cause you’re–” Your voice drops into a whisper. “Robin?”

He shoves you away, somehow in a gentlemanly manner. “Do not joke about that.”

You cackle. “I will tell you something about me in exchange for something about you.” At his glare you say, “it’s the fair thing to do.”

“I’ll go first.” You sit up straight. “I work part-time at Carrie’s Cafe, I live in East End and I occasionally dabble in photography.” Where you work and live is something he no doubt knows already, and photography is a useless fact. Still, he can’t admit that.

You gesture at him. “Your turn.”

You’re pleasantly surprised when he speaks. “I enjoy spending time with animals. I have various pets.”

“What kind of pets?”

“The rules of our deal do not require me to elaborate further.”

You roll your eyes. “The rules of conversation do.”

“I hardly want to converse with you.” God, you forgot how much of a brat Damian is. It’s easier to find it funny when you’re not the subject of his brat-ness. He can tell you’re getting a bit irked, if the quirk of his lips is anything to go by.

You survey your surroundings. People are looking at the two of you. You figure you must be a sight. The elusive heir of Bruce Wayne and the new kid. There’s a group of girls staring at you spitefully.

“Aren’t we a pair,” you speak to Damian, not taking your eyes off the girls. “Me, awesome mysterious super hot new kid, and you.” You don’t gas up Damian, but you figure he’s better off without a bigger ego.

Damian looks to where you're staring, his lips turning in thinly veiled disgust. “We are not a pair.” The girls giggle behind their hands and flutter their eyelashes at him. He looks away. You gasp as you are hit with an idea.

“I just had the best idea ever.” Pointedly ignoring his hum of doubt, you continue, “we are in the perfect set-up for a fake-dating situation. You, the popular bad boy who wants nothing to do with girls, and me, the one person who will never fall in love with you. We agree to fake-date to get the girls off your back, but we end up falling in love and we kiss in the rain–” you pause, staring at his face. It’s full of disgust, and you burst out laughing. “I’m afraid you’re too easy, my friend.”

Your hearing picks up on stomping from across the cafeteria. The leader of the girl's little posse is making her way over to you. She’s real pretty, you’ll give her that. She’s forgone the vest of her uniform to show off her slightly unbuttoned top. You’re not ashamed to admit you are looking hard .

“Damian!” She squeals, rounding up to your table. She ignores the seats and sits on the table itself. “Are they bothering you? I can see that you’re uncomfortable.”

You lean back and cross your arms, waiting to see what Damian will do. You would’ve thought he would be more of a recluse, liked by nobody. Perhaps this older Damian has more charm than the ones you’ve read about. Or maybe only the girls of the school like him.

Damian sends you a look that says do not leave me to the vultures.

You raise your eyebrows as if to say not friends, remember? This has nothing to do with me.

“Victoria,” Damian greets. Victoria’s face lights up in satisfaction at the fact he knows her name. Oof, girl, have some standards. “I am fine. You need not concern yourself.”

“Oh, but I can see it on your face, Damian. You don’t have to save face for someone like them ,” Victoria looks you up and down. There’s no doubt she means to isolate you because you’re not a rich heir like the rest of them.

Damian’s about to speak up (in your defense? You doubt it) when you lean forward, discreetly pulling down your own collar. “Victoria, was it? Can I call you Vicky? Where’d you get your nails done?”

Victoria brings her hands to her chest, rubbing her fingers over her nails. “Oh– um. My… cousin. My cousin does nails as a hobby.” Her eyes are flickering from your face to your chest. You reach forward and grab her hand delicately, humming as you look at her nails. “These look really good. How much were they?”

Your eyes are boring into hers as you await her answer. Her mouth is slightly agape. Her hand twitches in your grasp as you let a breath fall onto it. She opens and closes her mouth a few times before she finds herself. “It-It surely costs more than you can afford.” She yanks her hand back and it falls to her side. She looks at Damian before looking back at you, and turns around and walks off without another word.

A grin graces your face, satisfied with your results. Looking at Damian, you raise your brow in question. “Well? How’d I do?”

Damian is staring at you, like he is truly seeing you for the first time. He blinks and shakes himself out of whatever revelry he’s in (you hope you haven’t given too much away…) and answers you. “It’s no easy feat repelling Victoria. I commend you.”

“Is that a compliment? Oh my God, have I thawed your frozen heart, Elsa?” The bell rings and he walks away before you can say more.

You find out Victoria's in your ballet class. You feel her eyes on you the whole period.

You practice figure drawing in art. You ignore Damian’s stare on you the whole period.

It’s a cool night in Gotham. You’ve defended some homeless people being harassed, helped someone's cat out of a tree (you didn’t know that could actually happen) and helped an old lady home safely. It’s a pretty quiet night for Gotham, all things considered. The city moves on in spite of you, a maze of crime and corruption, but also of people worth saving.

You can’t help yourself and snap a couple of photos, for your eyes only. Anything that’ll make you feel like back home is good in your books.

watching behind you

You stand, straightening your shoulders. You’re sure the Bats know about your existence. Whoever it is, you’ll give them a scare first.

You lift your foot, letting it dangle off the ledge of the building. Their footsteps hasten to get to you. Gravity pulls you down. They’re running to you now. You spread your arms and fall.

A figure clad in black and red grasps the ledge, looking over, grappling hook in hand. They’re met with you, casually standing on the side of the building, defying gravity. “Looking for me?”

Robin makes room for you as you climb back up, crouching on the ledge once more. You stick out your hand. “It’s so nice to finally meet one of you guys. Big fan.”

Robin takes out his sword and holds it to your neck in one swift movement. “Tough crowd,” you mutter, clicking your tongue.

“Who are you and what business do you have in Gotham.” Straight to the point as always, Damian.

“My name is Spinnerette, nice to meet you!” You grab his hand before he can tug it out of your reach, shaking it. “And I thought it was pretty obvious, no? I’m in the saving people business, like you guys! That’s my business.”

“Children should not run around pretending to fight crime because they think it’s cool.”\

You huff. “Okay, one , the first robin was like, five. Two , how old do you think I am? Three , dude, I’ve been doing this for years.”

He tuts. “Is that right? How come I’ve never heard of you?”

You shrug. “I’m not from around here.” You’re not lying, that’s for sure.

The sword doesn’t move from your neck, and you sigh. Grabbing the sword makes an audible clink as it meets the metal of your suit. You slowly move it away from your neck, taking note of how Robin tries to meet your strength head-on, and failing to do so. Languidly moving, you invade his personal space. You throw your arms over his shoulders, making him sway side to side with you.

“You’re hurting my feelings, Rob,” you hum. You see his eyes squint through his mask. Dragging a claw down his cheek, you’re aware that you are completely indulging yourself right now. You should’ve swung away as soon as your senses alerted you to his presence.

Pretender, your brain whispers to you.

You will the thought away. “You know, some species of spiders eat birds,” you flirt.

“You have abhorrent ideas of flirting.”

“Cut me some slack, I’m rusty.”

“Some species also eat their mates,” he flirts back. Oh?

You grin, feral and hidden. “Ohoh, considering yourself my mate already, birdie?” His hands grasp your hips, pulling you closer. Chest to chest with him, you lean in, whispering “you like the idea of me eating you? Perv.”

“You jump to conclusions.” His cheek is against yours.

“Yeah, I know. You’re not that easy.” You remove your hands from his shoulders and grasp his, lifting them off your hips. “Just like I know you’re trying to put a tracker on me.” You wretch the little device from his hands and crush it. “I’m not that easy either.”

You pat his cheek. His expression doesn’t give anything away, but you know he’s annoyed his plans have been thwarted. “It was a good try though. You did your best.”

You send a web to a nearby building, knowing that his eyes are scanning you to drink up every piece of information he can. You turn to him one last time before swinging away.

“I’m just better.”

“They call themselves Spinnerette,” is what Damian says as he enters the Batcave.

Bruce only sighs. He really shouldn’t be so surprised Damian went after the new meta. He turns around in his chair, facing Damian. He makes a ‘go on’ gesture.

“Their suit is made of some kind of metal. It is high-grade, something I’m not familiar with. The eyes of their suit react, like they mimic their expression. They can stick to walls and webs come out from a device on their wrist. They are intelligent and were able to divert my intentions to put a tracker on them,” Damian huffs.

He moves to stand next to his father. “They say they have been acting as a vigilante for years. They are also not native to Gotham.”

Bruce nods, “that narrows it down a little.”

“They were insulted by my insinuation that they were a child, so I assume they are at least in high school.”

Bruce types all the information in the Batcomputer, fingers flying across the keyboard. The results narrow down. Several databases appear on screen.

“If they are your age they could very well attend the Academy,” Bruce hums, hand over his mouth in thought.

“I have someone in mind already, but I will be sure to evaluate all my peers.”

Bruce smiles. “I’m surprised to hear you call them your peers.”

Damian’s lips twitch, walking out of the cave without further word.

You’ve decided to put plans for the nanite chamber on hold for now in exchange for a far, more efficient use of your time. The battery will last you, you’re just being paranoid.

You’re going to pull a Tony Stark and create a new element.

Technically you’re just going to use the blueprints Tony put in your suit (thank you tony, we all say in unison) and follow them, but in this universe badassium isn’t a thing.

A clean and powerful energy source, to power your way back home and for the world to use. You know what they say about leaving things better than when you found it.

You’ve changed your plans for one main reason; when Tony Stark made his new element, he also made a particle accelerator.

It starts in your engineering class. You swipe as much material as you can, stuffing it into your backpack. Tony’s makeshift build took up his whole lab, and the one you found that landed you here was huge, so you’ll grab as much as you can.

Next is finding a place to work. Your apartment is a no-go, so you spend time off patrol to look for places. An abandoned warehouse could work in theory, but how many times has a villain used one for their operations? You’ll go without bumping into the Joker, thank you.

The problem is that you don’t know this city, so you make an impulsive decision. During classes, you spend time building a mini robot that will infiltrate and access the Batcomputer. You know Wayne Manor is equipped with state-of-the-art security, from reinforced structures to advanced alarm systems. It is very likely your little buddy will not make it out, but Karen only needs enough time to upload to the computer.

You spend your programming class calibrating Karen into W.E.B.B.E.R. (Karen comes up with the acronym, it stands for Wireless Enabled Bionic Bot for Exploration and Reconnaissance) instead of doing the assignment. You can easily do it later. If Damian notices how in your mind you’ve been lately, he doesn’t say anything. WEBBER is finished in three days. Now it’s up to you to get it past Wayne Manor's defenses and into the batcave.

You sit pondering on a rooftop during patrol. Damian is a hesitant option. You’re are certain he’ll notice if you stick a little spider robot on him. Red Hood probably doesn’t visit very often, for obvious reasons. You might be able to sneak it past Nightwing, but there aren't many places on that skin-tight suit for WEB to hide. Orphan is a hard no, nothing gets past Cassandra Cain. You groan into your hands. WEB’s little feet pat your mask.

“Perhaps it would be easier to infiltrate myself,” Karen suggests.

“There’s no way to get into the cave without authorized access, and that's if WEB isn’t somehow destroyed as soon as it hits the property’s soil,” you sigh. “You could override its systems to get inside, but that’ll just put everyone on high alert.”

“Then perhaps we approach their civilian identities.” Karen pulls up security footage of a cafe that none other than Tim Drake likes to frequent. It’ll be risky, since Drake’s got a damn good keen eye. However, you’ll bank on the fact that that guy does not get as much sleep as he should, thus making him less aware.

“Thanks, K.” You hardly sleep that night.

You spend the weekend lingering at the mentioned cafe. After some hard thought, you’ve forgone a disguise. He’ll notice if you’re trying to hide your features, so you just have to hope and pray that you become another blurred face he sees.

“He’s walking your way, [Name].”

You take a deep breath as WEBBER crawls onto your shoulder. He’s wearing layers, so WEB will have an easier time staying hidden. The robot is light, you made sure. You walk towards him, keeping your gaze forward. If this doesn’t work, you’ll figure something out. You just… really hope it doesn’t come down to that.

As you get closer, you side-step out of his way and allow your shoulder to pass his, not touching, but almost. WEBBER hops onto him and scuttles into his breast pocket.

“I will make sure I am not seen.”

“I trust you, Karen.”

Tim Drake does not notice the little spider hidden in his clothes. He returns to Wayne Manor none the wiser. WEBBER clings to his back as he makes his way down to the Batcave. You watch through the little camera from your laptop. Your jaw drops.

Literally every Bat and Bird, former or current, is down there. Even Oracle herself is there. They’re all in civvies, so you suspect they’re just hanging out and chose the goddamn Batcave to do so.

“Just…” you sigh, already done with your spidey luck, “...keep going, K.”

WEBBER hops down from Tim’s back, scrambling across the floor. The mic you impulsively added picks up on conversation.

“I think you’re looking a little too hard into things, man.” It’s Duke Thomas.

“They just seem like the main character trying to find their way into the world. Rich dad sends his kid into adulthood all alone. They struggle to fit in under the guise that they have less money than their peers. ‘Woe is me’ type of stuff, y’know?” Stephanie Brown.

There’s a scoff. “They hold too much intelligence to have that kind of persona. They are able to direct less than welcome attention with careful words and persuasion. They do not pay attention in class, yet their grades are pristine. I’ve seen their drawings in their sketchbook when they are not looking, it’s filled with equations and ideas for ‘personal projects’.”

Is he talking about… you? That sneaky bastard, when did he peek at your notes!? Have you been that distracted at school?

“It says that their dad’s an inventor,” comes Barbara’s voice. She’s on the Batcomputer, WEBBER has been waiting for when she turns around or gets off to make its move. “They obviously get it from him, then. What, you think they’re building a world-ending weapon or something?”

“I think,” he grits out, “that they are a suspicious person, appearing at the same time our new spider friend did.”

Bruce hums. “It’s plausible.”

Goddammit.

Barbara turns around, and WEB scuttles around the back of the Batcomputer. “If they are Spinnerette, It’s not like they’re performing any unwelcome actions. They’re just doing what the rest of us do.”

“Yeah,” comes Dick Grayson, “Bruce is only irked ‘cause he hasn’t gotten the chance to adopt them yet.” A round of chuckles is heard.

WEBBER plugs into the Batcomputer, and an alert pops onto the screen immediately. Barbara whips around, fingers flying onto the keyboard.

“Someone’s hacking into the Batcomputer.” Her words put everyone in the room at attention.

“Trace it,” growls Bruce. It’s a remarkable thing to be able to switch into his Batman mode like that.

Barbara throws up countless defenses, but Karen is an AI made by Tony freakin’ Stark , and you are his protégé.

“They’re bypassing all my shields, they’re getting in!” Barbara growls.

Tim and Bruce race to begin helping her, but your superspeed allows you to type faster than all three geniuses.

They watch as files are opened and downloaded into Karen’s system as she uploads herself. Info about the city, criminals and heroes alike are getting into ‘enemy’ hands before they’re very eyes.

“I can’t track them,” grits Barbara.

The room is silent as Karen finishes her job. Gotham’s protectors are greeted with a single pop-up.

“THANK YOU.”

It taunts them. Bruce slams a hand onto the table. “They have everything .”

“Time to get the hell out of dodge, K.”

WEBBER unplugs from the Batcomputer and scuttles to a hiding spot.

“How is this possible? They were able to dodge and counter all of my firewalls like it was nothing. B, what do we do?” Barbara runs a hand through her hair, stressed. It seems like whenever she visits she can never catch a break.

“Keep trying to find their trace, we’ll find them eventually.” Bruce turns around to see his kiddos standing straight, ready for orders. He looks at Damian.

“Do you think they have the capacity to do this?” He’s talking about you.

“They have a computer programming class. I will observe them to see if it’s possible,” vows Damian. You’ll have to be more careful from now on.

“I’ll ask Selina to keep an eye on them. I owe her a favor.” A few faces twist in disgust at what exactly Selina could have done for him to owe her.

“Suit up, be extra vigilant today. They may try to enact whatever plans they have.”

Nodding, they scurry to change into their suits. WEBBER hitches a ride on Tim again as he exits the cave. The robot hops off as soon as he leaves the manor's grounds. That’s your cue to suit up.

You quickly hop across rooftops and swing to WEBBERs location. Arriving at its location, you cradle the bot gently in your hands, running a finger across its back. “Good job, Karen.”

“There are many old tunnels from previous subways, they may lead to your new lab. I’ve also left a backdoor should we ever need to access their database again.”

You nod, webbing a nearby building to swing away. The city passes under you, bright lights from cars blurring together. You perform flips and twirls, you’re in a pretty good mood, all things considered. People point at you in recognition as you rush by. The people of Gotham are becoming familiar with their new friendly neighborhood spider.

You hop down into the old tunnel. It’s covered in cobwebs and dust. Looking around, you see that the station has not seen life in ages. Footsteps echo as you start down the tracks. The station you’re in right now is accessible through a hole, so hopefully you can find one that is completely caved in.

You hope the team doesn't miss you too terribly. You wonder if you’re even being looked for, and then immediately shake the thought away. You are being looked for. You’re certain that Tony and Miguel are butting heads right now about how to best find you.

The tracks end with a bunch of rocks collapsed onto them. It takes minimal effort to move them out of the way, you just hope you don’t accidentally cause a mini rockslide, or something. You side step the pile, entering the large area of the abandoned station. The walls are littered with aged graffiti. The stairs that normally would lead out are collapsed in. There’s vegetation growing about, so you’ll probably get them something to drink in order to not invoke Poison Ivy’s wrath.

“I believe this will make quite the suitable hideout,” chimes Karen.

She’s right. With some decorating this could be a real cozy place. “A little Spider Den,” you whisper. Your new lab.

When you got home after finding the Den, you got rid of the monstrosity of cables from your gritty suit charger. If Selina Kyle is going to be poking around your apartment (because she’ll definitely do it while you’re gone) you want to appear as a normal person. You leave sketches of throwaway inventions, notes for class and random homework around the place.

May pipes up when she sees you leaving for work, “you look happy.”

You pause, thinking of your answer. “I… found what I was looking for.” It’s vague, but true.

“Since you’ve come here, you’ve always looked troubled,” hums May. “But lately you seem to be finding stable ground.”

You smile and nod, saying nothing as you walk out.

Sam greets you as you walk in. “How was your first week, scholar?”

You groan dramatically, “it’s terrible, save me oh great Sam,” you exaggerate. Sam opens their arms and you fall into them. “There, there,” they coo. “Was it that bad for real?”

“No.” Your voice is muffled in their arms. “I’m just really… bored.”

Sam bursts out laughing. “The little genius baby is stuck with their less than genius peers!” Sam’s voice has drawn out Carrie and Gar.

“Look who’s back! Thank God, kid. This place was falling apart without you,” Carrie says, grinning.

Gar crosses his arms. “Find your ‘rich future spouse’ yet?”

You chuckle, “not yet.”

The pair go off to get the cafe ready for opening, and you're still in Sam’s arms.

“I ever tell you about my own Sam back home?” You’re not sure why you’ve spoken up.

Sam raises a brow. “Don’t think so. You trying to share with the class now?”

Inside the dimly lit workshop at the Tower, you tinker away at Redwing as Sam stands over your shoulder.

“You’re hurting him.”

“He is fine, you big baby. I know what I’m doing.”

It amuses you how much Sam sees Redwing as a living thing. You’re told not to encourage it, but what’s the harm?

“The chip is just a little fried,” you say, angling so that Sam can see. “It’s an easy fix.”

Sam lays a hand on his chest, sighing in relief. “Thought we were gonna have to put him down.” You snort at his dramatics.

The workshop falls into silence as you tinker away. “What made you come up with Redwing?” you say, never one for quiet.

Sam’s face lights up. “I needed something that could give me an edge in the field without being too bulky. A mix of coolness and necessity, you know?” He pokes Redwings’ ‘nose’. “Plus, there’s that winning personality.”

“Personality, huh?” You think of Karen.

“Yeah, Redwings not a tool, he’s a partner.” There’s fondness in Sam’s voice. “He scouts, gathers intel, and watches my back.”

You hum in thought, realizing how similar Redwing and Karen are. “Sounds like the two of you are really close.”

“I like to think so.” The workshop is filled with chatter as the two of you work away the hours.

“Maybe another time,” you mutter, face squished into Sam’s chest. Sam drops the subject.

It’s another slow day at the cafe. You get that inkling that someone is watching you, but you see nobody. You wouldn’t be surprised if Damian is spying on you from the next building over. At least the cafe plays good music over the speakers. You hum the lyrics as you clean the countertops.

The door chimes as someone walks in “Welcome to Carrie’s, how can I help you?”

“Hey, you.”

You look up, meeting the very blue eyes of one Jonathan Kent. You can’t bring yourself to be annoyed. “Hey, you!” you echo, smiling.

Jon brightens up at your smile. “How have you been?”

“Good,” you hum. “I’m really good.” You are. Once night time hits, you’ll go to the Den and finally start on your plans to recreate Tony’s badassium.

“In fact, I feel so good that I’m gonna ask you this; wanna go hang out at my place after I get off?” One might say you’re indulging yourself. You say you’re trying to seems as un-suspicious to Jon as possible. When Damian finds out you have ties to him, he’ll ask Jon everything he knows about you, and possibly even ask him to survey you. Hopefully your front as a regular ole highschooler keeps him from figuring you out.

Jon blinks in surprise, stuttering, “w-well, sure. Yeah. Totally, why not? Just…” he pauses, “...I still don’t know your name.”

You smile. “Shoot, yeah. Sorry about that.” You straighten your posture, sticking out a hand. “I’m [Name]. [Name] Stark.”

You see the little twitch of his brow. Ah, so Damian has already told him about you.

“Nice to meet you, [Name]. I’m Jonathan Kent. Keep calling me Jon, though,” Jon says, shaking your hand.

You pull away. “So, a small vanilla latte for you, not-stranger?”

“You remember,” he chuckles. You nod. You feel his eyes on you as you make his drink.

“So,” you say as you hand him the cup. “I get off at five, see you then?” you feign shyness.

He nods rapidly. “See you at five.”

You count down the minutes until you get off from work. You swear you see some blue blurs rush by in the sky and wonder if it’s Superboy. Wonder if this Batman is more lenient to others operating in Gotham.

The sun has only just begun its descent into the Earth when you step outside. Your bag is thrown over your shoulder. You look around, Jon isn’t there. You doubt he’s the type to bail, so you lean against the front of the building. You busy yourself with some more Crossy Road to pass the time. Five minutes pass, when you sigh. Maybe you were too hasty.

“[Name]!”

You turn, seeing Jon running to you. His appearance is ruffled, his shirt is inside out and his hair is all over the place. He was definitely Superboying around.

“Did you run all the way here?” you offer as an explanation for his appearance.

He claims it. “Yeah, sorry. I got caught up in some stuff.”

You can’t help yourself, and reach up to tame some of his hair. “Looks like you ran through a high powered fan, or something.”

He mindlessly tilts his head to let you do as you please, looking at you. You don’t dare meet his gaze. “Ok,” you say when you’re satisfied with his hair. “Let’s go.”

He offers his arm and you take it. “I wouldn’t think a Gothamite would tell me where they live on our second meeting,” he says.

“They probably wouldn’t,” you hum. “I’m not originally from Gotham, though.”

He blinks. “You’re not? I thought you were.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” It means you’ve done a good job at fitting it. “But no, I’m actually from Queens. New York.”

He hums. “I thought the accent was a little different.”

May greets you as you walk in, widening her eyes when she sees Jon. You ignore her wiggling brows as the two of you make your way up. Entering your apartment, nothing looks out of place, but your trained eye can see the way your papers have shifted from their original position. So Selina Kyle did end up snooping while you were gone.

“This is me,” you say, arms gesturing to the apartment. Nari rounds the corner, meowing for your attention. “And this,” you lift Nari into your arms, “is Nari.”

Jon pets Nari between his ears. “Hi, Nari.”

You put Nari in his arms, ignoring his small protests. Nari looks very content in Jon’s big arms. You snap a picture for yourself.

“My friend is actually a big fan of animals,” hums Jon, looking down at Nari.

“Yeah?” He’s talking about Damian. “The one that goes to GA?”

He nods. “His name is Damian. Damian Wayne. Have you met him?” His eyes bear into yours, switching into that hero interrogation mode. You wonder just how much Damian has told him.

“Yeah, I got a couple of classes with him.” You sit down on your couch, leaning back. “He’s got a real unique persona.” Jon chuckles in agreement, sitting down next to you. “How’d you become friends with a guy like that?”

“Our dads know each other.” Right.

“Well, he’s pretty cute. That’s all I got to say about him,” you say, looking over and snorting at Jon’s expression. His eyes are widened, no doubt wondering if he should leave out the fact that you just said that when he relays the info to Damian later.

“Well, I got some popcorn and some movies on my laptop. You down?” Jon nods.

You spend a couple hours sitting and chatting as you watch a couple of horror movies. Jon acted brave, but you could tell he was just a tiny bit freaked out.

Now, you swing to your new hideout, now equipped with cute fairy lights and cobweb hammocks. It wasn’t hard to get power working in the place, just tedious. Seriously, the amount of rubble you had to clear was atrocious.

You pull up the blueprints on a digital interface via your suit. “Alright, Karen. Let’s get to work."

When Miguel got an alert that you had been requesting assistance, he straightened up immediately. He had been running regular people errands, so he had to quickly stop by the HQ to suit up and get ready. From there he found out you had also contacted Peni, he started rushing. The other Spiderlings had caught wind of this, and demanded to tag along. Miguel and the kids entered a portal to your universe, and were immediately met with the large, inactive particle accelerator.

He hears Miles take a deep breath. It’s just like the one from his universe. You’re nowhere to be seen.

Lyla pops up next to him. “There’s been recent activity here. It was activated two times.”

“Two?” Miguel mutters.

He doesn’t get to dwell on it much, when some of the goddamn Avengers come barreling in. Iron Man, The Hulk (it’s just Bruce Banner right now, though) and Black Widow stand at the ready, looking at Miguel and the gang in apprehension.

“Oh, you’re my kids' little spider friends, right?” Tony’s voice is dry, feigning friendliness as if he isn’t pointing at them, ready to blast.

“We got an alert signal from [Name]’s suit,” Bruce explains, ignoring Tony’s betrayed stare.

“So did we,” says Hobie, analyzing the three.

Lyla tuts. “I’m not picking up their watch's signal.”

“[Name]’s tracker went offline, too.”

Miguel’s eyes scan his surroundings, settling on a pile of broken pieces on the floor. Broken watch pieces. He hears Pav and Gwen gasp as he kneels by it. “It’s their watch,” he explains to the Avengers, “the thing that allows them to multiversal travel.”

“Why is it broken.” Black Widow doesn’t phrase it as a question.

“Because someone must have broken it,” concludes Miguel. He straightens. “The watches are strong, it wasn’t an accident. Someone was here, with [Name].”

“Well now there’s nobody here, and [Name] is off the radar so where are they? ” growls Tony.

“The only plausible answer is that they’re in another universe.” Miguel looks at the particle accelerator. “Without a watch.”

The kids look sick to their stomachs. “Can’t we trace the signal from the accelerator?” questions Peni.

“Normally, I could,” chimes Lyla. “But… I can’t.”

“ Why not?” Miles questions.

“Okay, so you know that there are literally infinite universes out there. If each universe is a satellite and the watches, or the accelerator in this case, is a signal, then there’s only a certain ‘distance’ I can trace [Name]’s whereabouts.”

Gwen thinks she’s getting a headache. “So, what? She’s in a universe that’s ‘too far away’?”

Lyla nods. “In that sense, yes.”

“This is pointless,” huffs Tony, walking up to Miguel. “We are wasting time talking about technicalities, we should be looking for my kid.”

“Is there anyone you know who could’ve built this?” Miguel asks Tony.

“Nobody smart enough has it out that bad for [Name]. Unless it was another me or another [Name] there’s no one capable of doing this without someone noticing,” Tony pauses, looking at the spider variants before him.

Tony’s voice drops into a whisper, “could someone from another universe have done this?”

“If someone from another universe ended up in this one, why throw [Name] into a random one?” Bruce stresses. “They wouldn’t have any strife with Spinnerette.”

“Unless it’s a spidey villain.”

“What spidey villain is smart enough to do this? Doc Ock?”

“Maybe–”

Miguel interrupts, “it was activated twice, so one time was for [Name] entering it, and the other was for whoever broke their watch. They built this–” Miguel gestures to the giant machine, “–so they were obviously here for a while.”

“Only a fool would attempt a multiversal jump without certainty that they could get back home, so that means–”

“–they accidentally got stuck here,” finishes Tony, looking graver by the minute.

“For who knows how long,” hums Hobie, now in thought.

“Trying to get back home, they build a particle accelerator–”

“–clearly their work is cut out for them, otherwise they would have come up with a much smaller design–”

“–they meet [Name], who would see this and automatically assume they’re a threat.”

“[Name] would try to shut it down, and our mystery guy gets desperate, because [Name]’s the one thing standing between them and their way back home.”

“The particle accelerator is already activated. They see the watch, recognize it as a multiversal travel tool and smash it–”

“–so that [Name] can’t find them–”

“–because they throw [Name] into another universe.”

“They go back home to their universe scott-free.” It doesn’t take a genius to figure how Black Widow’s unhappy with the development.

“In other news, I’ve got the trace of the other person who used the accelerator!” Lyla sings.

Miguel’s face scrunches. “If we don’t know which universe [Name] is in, I really doubt they do.”

“I’d still like a word with them,” Black Widow crosses her arms.

“Maybe later, right now–” Miguel turns to the Spiderlings. “–we should head back to HQ. We’ll send out an alert, every spider will look for [Name] when they can. We’ll search every universe if we have to.”

“Great, what do we do?” Tony asks, gesturing to his comrades.

“Miguel turns back to them. “You said [Name]’s got a tracker in the suit, right?” Tony nods. “We’ll need something that can latch onto its signal as soon as a Spider enters an Earth, no matter how far away they are. Can you build something like that? You can use tech from other universes if you need to.”

Tony nods, resolute. “You better get my kid back.”

Miguel nods. “We will.” A portal opens, swallowing Miguel and the Spiderlings.

“FRI, get the workshop ready and notify the others of the situation,” says Tony, turning around and making his way out of the warehouse. Nat and Bruce follow. “I want Strange and Wanda on this immediately.”

“Certainly, sir.”

Tony mutters under his breath, “I’ll get my damn kid back, alright.”

notes: if you're female-identifying ur def vicky's gay awakening LOL

i'm not entirely sure is "badassium" is the canon name for tony's new element, i actually think i saw somewhere that it was the name fans gave it. either way "badassium" is what we rockin' with.

i hope my explanation as to why reader hasn't been found isn't too confusing. i didn't plan on having it kind of explained so soon but a group up spideys (who are all basically genius cuz they're SPIDERMAN) are bound to figure it out. also like that whole 'the spiders and the avenger' meeting scene was supposed to be in the last chapter but i forgot to add it LOL

also chatgpt came up with webbers acronym guys i am NOT smart enough for that.

damian: good job getting into their base of operations (apartment) now we can gather more info on them

jon, who just wanted to spend time w/ reader: oh yeah lol light work

#damian wayne x reader #jon kent x reader #robin x reader #superboy x reader #dc x reader

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lord-armitage · 6 months ago

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How ASOIAF characters spend Christmas

The Stark Family: Disgustingly happy together. Matching Christmas themed pyjamas and jumpers. Catelyn has everything perfectly organised, the tree is perfection, all of the presents are wrapped beautifully beneath it. The only downside is that Arya will break something which whatever Ned gifted her without consulting Cat (a paintball gun, Ned, really?), Rickon will have a tantrum when he's stopped from eating all of the gingerbread, and Sansa will be a bit of a brat if she doesn't get the exact Taylor Swift merch she explicitly asked for. But they all settle down in time to eat Cat's lavish Christmas dinner and then fall asleep on the sofas together.

Dany: Spends Christmas volunteering at a homeless shelter. Yeah, it's fine, she does it every year since she doesn't have a family and no it's not awkward when it comes up in conversation at all and you don't know what to say when she keeps making pointed remarks over how "grateful" everyone should be this time of year.

The Lannister-Baratheon's: Soap opera chaos every damn year. Robert gets everyone wildly inappropriate gifts and Cersei refuses to speak to him for the rest of the day when she opens, in front of the entire family, the lingerie he gifted her. Lancel tries to make everyone accept the Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ at the dinner table and Tyrion's "girlfriend" is revealed to be an escort. Jamie ditches them all without saying a word. Several people get slapped, there are screaming matches, and Tywin expresses his disappointment in all of them. To crown things off, Renly will be overheard by everyone having an extremely sexual video call to Loras.

Lysa Tully and Sweetrobin: A very weird affair. Lysa buys Robin literally dozens of gifts and has her guests and staff watch and applaud every time he opens one. There is Christmas dinner but Robin won't eat any of the vegetables so half the table is just chicken nuggets. They are pointedly not invited to anyone else's Christmas after several "incidents."

The Wall: Standard military Christmas with their own traditions. No-one remembers how it started, but at midnight everyone has to piss off the side of the wall. And while it started as a joke, Sam reads everyone a Christmas story the night before. If Jon isn't on duty then he'll spend the day at Ygritte's. Free Folk don't celebrate Christmas, but she makes an effort for Jon by ordering a bucket of chicken. And her gift to him is pegging.

Stannis + Co: Stannis hates the entire affair and spends Christmas locked in his study with a glass of scotch. Davos goes all out in a very cheap-and-cheerful manner to ensure that the kids get the Christmas he never had as a child, dressing up as Santa and everything. But he's up against Selyse who believes that because Christmas trees are pagan they're demonic and should be burned. Melisandre does enjoy having the Christmas pudding flamed though.

The Greyjoys: The Iron Islands do not celebrate Christmas as it's a greenland holiday, and Aeron will be leading harassment campaigns against any Iron Islander who puts Christmas lights up in their windows. It is an good reason to go onto the main land and commit a bunch of burglaries though. Asha uses it as excuse to have both Tris and Qarl "gift" her oral. Theon tried to get his family to do it once but everyone just made fun of him for it, but he isn't welcomed back at the Starks for Christmas anymore after that one time he went out drinking on Christmas Eve and threw up on the tree. Instead he now spends the holiday with...

The Boltons: A very subdued and tasteful affair on the surface. Roose gifts Walda some expensive jewellery and a mink coat. Walda gifts Roose that one thing she only does in bed on special occasions. Roose reluctantly invites Ramsay over for dinner (pheasant) and even more reluctantly invites Ramsay's new "boyfriend" who spends the meal shaking like a chihuahua. The atmosphere could be cut with a knife. Roose will bring up Domeric just to spite Ramsay. Everyone sat round the table knows that each party will be having some absolute freaknasty sex in a few hours time, which both Boltons make open illusions too. At least Walda can make sure Theon has a proper meal for once.

#my rabbles #asoiaf #house greyjoy #house stark #house lannister #house baratheon #a song of ice and fire #house bolton #theon greyjoy #roose bolton #lysa arryn #aeron greyjoy #daenerys targaryen #jon snow

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surelysilly · 4 months ago

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Mr fear au but it's Danny after a... "Session"(you know what I mean) and the aftermath of that. Do Jon do aftercare or not lol

He does! In his own way. Worst bedside manner ever, essentially; not a single gentle bone in his body, but he gets,,, better? Good thing Danny's rather.... uhhh, out of it most of the time anyway.

so have a little how it started vs. how its going :P (wall of nonsense incoming, hope you enjoy these two individuals who should stay far away from each other <3)

how it started

(tldr Danny meets Scarecrow officially by helping him escape Killer Croc, who would have otherwise ripped Jon's face off. Crane then dragged him home because interesting.)

Danny thinks he might could get used to this. Nothing hurts. And even that sort of thought, sort of awareness, is a slippery one to hold. That there's anything that could exist outside of this. This being. Ah. Hm. Something — He shakes his head just a little. Nothing hurts. Not the fingers in his hair, nor the suds dripping down past his eyes. Not the deep, raw bite marks up his arm, nor the. The. Hm. “This is nice,” he murmurs, eyes slivers against the bright overhead light, and it really just is. Be quiet says the hands over his head. Be still says the comb ran through his hair. Hold your breath says the water that rushes up over his ears. “That's a funny thing to say,” Danny chuckles once the world is present again. He sniffs, and then lolls his head back a little against something soft — the light glimmers through beads of water. “Real funny.” Absolutely filthy says the hands that bend out his arms, prod the creases of bruised elbow. You will need to be clean. Danny hums. “I'll have you know,” he replies, “I took a real shower two weeks ago. That's pretty good.” That. Gets everything tilted sideways. It doesn't hurt though, the hard grip on his hair, and it's only for a moment. Probably means something. Be quiet. “Okay, okay,” Danny relents, and kind of just. Ugh. Hands pull him back up from the water, and it does actually kinda hurt that time. It got in his nose. “Okay. H-Hold my breath. Got it.” Why did you help me? Don't you know who I am? Wrinkling his nose, Danny drops his head back fully this time. Glasses glint in the shadow of a thin face. Mm. “‘Cos.” Danny smiles. Probably. “Strawman?” It's on the tip of his tongue. So, so close. God, who knew that getting fear gassed right in the face could make everything featherlight. Worth getting bit by a real alligator man. Danny snorts, curling up, and the water sloshes over his knees. At least it's not itchy. Be still. “Where are my clothes?” he asks muzzily, but can't be bothered to really be worried about it. Trashed. You will be given more. “That's nice.” Nothing hurts. “Hey… can I… y'know… You kinda promised...” Later. Easier than chasing the news. Last time Danny was clear on the other side of the city and missed out. And ended up short another forty bucks for something so lackluster compared to whatever fear toxin actually is. What are you? A meta? “Mhm,” Danny lies, and closes his eyes at the continued rough drag of a washcloth over skin. If he wasn't so terribly high this would be — “You?” No. “Huh.”

how its going

I couldn't exactly decide on the "how it's going" because none of this will probably actually show up in the actual fic really but. Here, two missing scenes, stolen moments, that are the gist if not 100% correct :9

and, really, im bad at lab rat stuff, but I see Jon sort of like... maintaining a clinical, scientific sort of mindset with Danny. Like a legit project, where he just... tweaks stuff, tests it on Danny, and then figures it will be so much WORSE on the average person based on the data he gets from Danny. Something like that anyway.

Danny never tells him he's a 'ghost' either, and he does have limits. It's all sort of ruined from the get out, but... yeah, lol.

so it's literally just Jon giving him fear toxin (gas, injections sometimes, etc) and watching for results. Some days are more professional then others though. *cough*

(Robbing banks is also not usually something Scarecrow does, but science requires money, and a jonesing Danny gets nosy and gets hit with the security ink lmao)

With a sigh, Danny braces his arms back over the rim of the metal tub. He's all too aware of the heat, the scalding sting of the hot water bearing down on the teasing weightlessness. This variant is. Too slow for him to enjoy. Great for whatever the hell Jon has planned for it, but not. Exactly what Danny needs to chase away the biting gnaw of a deep set ache. Danny drops his head back when the fingers in his hair fade away, squints up at a pinched frown. “Gonna give yourself more wrinkles doin’ that,” he teases, and Jon scowls, tugs hard on a handful of wet hair. “Ow.” The man leans in, glasses glinting in reflected light. “This is not going to come off easily,” he says, pressing hard at Danny’s stained jaw with one hand. “Why did you do that?” “Better me than one of the goons,” Danny says easily, and flexes one arm, just catches the edge of dyed skin in the corner of his eye. “They got places to be. I don't.” And it's not like he actually did it on purpose. He was just curious. Who gets to say they've seen thousands of dollars in cold hard cash before? Bank jobs aren't Jon's typical speed, but needs must, obviously. That gets an unamused sneer, and Jon bends closer. Breathes over Danny's lips Don't do that again and then licks into Danny's mouth. Obediently, he opens up to the brief, hard kiss, and doesn't fight when it's taken away with another forceful yank of his hair. “Y-Yeah alright,” Danny rasps, breathless, and closes his eyes against the rumble then spray of the shower head.

or, how its going, again

Danny truly thought he could sink no lower, but life's full of surprises like that, he guesses — to break new ground when he'd thought he'd long since hit rock bottom. “That wasn't the deal, y'know,” he says softly, and for lack of a better alternative, presses the mouthpiece of the hose to his lips and takes a deep, slow inhale. The world goes a bit fuzzier, but not enough to chase away the gnawing guilt — Danny exhales a cloud of green, resigned. “Not that I have much of a choice.” Jon hums, low and unsurprised. “No, you rather don't, do you,” he returns, and stops typing for a moment, the click of keys falling silent above Danny. The man knocks a sharp knee into the side of his head. “How does this variant compare to last quarter's?” “Meh.” Crane brackets Danny in tighter with his legs, and he squirms, uncomfortable and too warm — which is the point. “C’mon, you only just gave me this like three hours ago.” That gets an aggravated sigh, but he bows out his knees, and Danny goes limp with a sigh of his own. Another intake, then the breath released over his head. “Don't do that,” Jon snaps, “it fogs up my glasses.” Danny mumbles a mocking repeat of his words and carefully places aside the gas handle before shoving himself up and truly into the man’s lap. With a scowl, Jon leans around to one side, but Danny matches it, pressing closer, hands finding purchase on his thighs. It stretches the leads dotted across his body to the very limits of their length, the pulsing count of Danny's heartbeat jumping with a beep on the computer behind him.

anyway, they're gay your honor.

#answers #asks #dpxdc #dp x dc #batpoopwrite #mr fear au #wfts au #danny does become a conflict of interest and it's all downhill from there in the real worst timeline of this au #truthfully yes danny~/jonathan crane but they're awful and should be separated from each other immediately #fake uncles version is allowed but here... uuuhhh yeah #cw implied drug addiction #*tinks them together* now kiss #silly answers

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invincibledc · 8 months ago

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I NEED WONDER BOY READER AND HOW THEY MET DAMIAN AND JON!!

“Is that a girl?” “IM NOT A GIRL?!”

Summary: meeting the new addition to the duo, there’s already wild first impressions

Genre: fluff

Pair: Superson trio. (Supersons x Wonderboy!reader)

Damian and Jon were in the watchtower, practically there because their fathers had a meeting. But slowly the meeting felt longer, Damian and Jon sat across from each other. Jon was asleep while Damian was awake. He dared not to close his eyes and fall asleep to an “important” meeting with his father. After the adults were done talking, Diana looked over at the supersons. She smiled and points to the two boys, “Yknow, I have a child of my own. Not very social, but would make a good addition to these two.” Immediately Damian snapped his head at the Amazon woman.

Clark smiles warmly, picking up his son who is still knocked out. “Oh yeah! Y/N. I think so too.” Damian raised a brow. He didn’t want to seem curious about this “Y/N” kid he was hearing about. But learning that the child is half Amazon or fully Amazon. He smirked, another kid to join “his” team. Amazing, maybe he can show his father that he can be a true leader. As the others leave the watch tower. Bruce drives back to the bat cave as Damian looks ahead. “Father.” Bruce hummed for his son to continue. “…when will I meet wonder woman’s heir.” Bruce smirked. “Eager are we?” Damian scoffed, now looking out the window. “Not like that father. Its just..I wanna see how she is. I wanna see if she’s just like her mother.”

Bruce held his tongue. He knew whatever happens next would be a surprise for his son. “Yes, I can see your curiosity about Y/N’s personality. But I assure you that you would be shock at how she acts.”

And oh boy would the two supersons would be shocked. Now it’s a new day, Jon and Damian were in their costumes. Batman, aka Damian’s father, aka Bruce Wayne himself asked the boys to meet him in the batcave. They did as they walked inside to see the present trinity of heroes. Batman had his stoic face and Superman was smiling. Wonder Woman was standing in-front of someone who clearly had the same material outfit as her. But when the Amazon lady moved, that’s when the two boys caught the beautiful sight of the child of the Amazon. They looked exactly like Diana. But wore pants other than a skirt. And looked more masculine, but the face is what threw the super off. Along with the boy wonder. Jon pointed a finger at the kid who seemed a little older than them. 11 at most. “Is that a girl?”

……..

“IM NOT A GIRL?!” The Amazon yelled shocked. The adults let out chuckles, even the Batman let a small one out before regaining his face. Jon felt heat hit his face of embarrassment, Damian showed shock before he switched his expression. “Wow superboy. I thought you would use your x ray vision.” Jon, still flustered looked at his best friend. “X ray vision is not supposed to be used like that Robin!” The older Amazon male snickered, which brought the boy’s attention to the male. “Jeez, what a first impression.” Wonderboy says. He walks up, holding his hand out. “Sup, I’m wonderboy. Son of Wonder Woman. But honestly, I already know your identities. Doesn’t take a genius to know.” The boy says. Jon didn’t care about his identity being known as of the minute. His manners were taking over as he shook the Boy’s hand.

“I’m superboy, Jonathan Kent. But you can call me Jon when we aren’t superheroes!” He giddily says. The boy only nods, “Okay Jon. I’m Y/N Prince. But you probably heard my name already.” Y/N winked at the super, Jon felt heat hit his face again. His ears tinted red as he quickly pulls his hand back. Damian moved forward, his arms crossed looking at the boy in-front of him. “So, you know who I am?” His face hardens. Y/N snorted with a smirk, a smirk that lifted one side of his lips to his ear. “Course I do, Damian Wayne.” Y/N ruffled the hair of the tanned boy. Damian huffs and immediately pushes the male’s hands off his head. His ears are a little red but it soon calms down. “Funny how I’m the oldest of this trio. Was hoping you guys would be at least my exact age. But that’s okay.” The Amazon boy shrugged and started to float.

Jon’s eyes light up, immediately started to float off the ground. “You can fly?! I mean of course you can fly, you’re wonder woman’s son! Omg we can fly around and catch bad guys! Have flying races! There’s so much things!” Jon was so excited to have an another flying person like him. And his age range as well! Damian clicked his tongue in distaste. Damian wasn’t jealous that his best friend was practically flying around the bat with the new addition. The superson trio was so caught up knowing about each other that they didn’t know their parents had left.

As Damian stare at the flying boys, Y/N smiles down at the boy wonder. The Amazon male swooped down and lifted the bird in his arms. “Aww birdy don’t be sad you can’t fly.” Y/N coos playfully, Damian scoffs. He can feel his facade melt, Jon chuckles as the two flying boys flew around the bat cave. Damian was fully relaxed in the boy’s arms, leaning his head against the amazon’s chest.

“Boy. It’s time to go home.” The flying boys stopped their flying. Damian immediately realized his softened demeanor and pushed himself off the Amazon male. Landing on his feet like a cat, Bruce raised a brow under his cowl at the quick switch up. Damian could only just stand there as Clark and Diana came in the batcave. It seems their little meet up to hang out has ended. Jon frowns, “Awe man…” Jon looks at Y/N. “Think we can hangout tomorrow? I have these comic books I want to show you!” Y/N nods. “Sure man!” Clark and Diana fist bumped each other, smiling as Jon hugged the Amazon boy goodbye.

After the Amazons are gone, leaving just the supers and bats. Jon pulls his dad’s cape. “Could he come to our house? PLEASEE” Clark chuckled and patted his son. “Sure sport. Sure.” Damian had his arms crossed. Looking down, Bruce placed a hand on his shoulder. “Do you want Y/N to come over as well?” Damian stayed quiet before a curt nod was received. Bruce smiled. “Alright then, I’ll set up your play date after Jon’s.” The Kents were now gone, leaving the Waynes to their home.

Neither the less of tonight, Damian was interested in the Amazon male. His charming smile, his compassionate nature , his calming attitude that he oddly find..attractive. Jon felt the same way, his eyes were blown out wide. You would’ve seen a tail behind him wagging when he sees that the male was strong just like him. But of course Y/N is strong like him! Y/N’s an Amazon, he’s a kryptonian. Plus he loves his heart beat makes him calm. Hopefully he can get a playdate with him soon!

This trio would be legendary for the future of heroes.

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pumpkinstrawbrew · 1 year ago

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*harvey bullock's voice* : batman an' that scarecrow guy are in cahoots! i'm tellin' ya! the vigilante an' that fruitcake totally have somethin' nasty goin' on!

bullock ships it know whats up. meanwhile, gordon is like 🤷‍♂️ 'idk, they look like sworn enemies to me'. so what if batman apprehends him very weirdly.

...

(one of very lovely an’ endearing btas crane’s features for me, always gonna be how he’s a complete twerp compared to his comic counterparts. he’s not only hella scrawny, but he’s also pretty short too.

comic crane build like a pencil compared to bruce, but btas jon is this, but a small version. a real gremlin, where in the comics, he's a goblin.

him being smaller have it's +. for one, he's easier to throw around an’ manhandle. or in this case, i kinda just thought ‘hey, bruce will have no problem to just place him in his laps’. jonathan is cuddly sized for the bat. gotta abuse this advantage to the max. he can catch him this way, or can hold him too…

an’ look at that, it might lead to one of those few *rare, very rare* times, when jon will attempt to be comforting. he sucks at this, but he does show a shine of sympathy, if he's in the mood for that. but yeah, he would only do it, when batman is all sad an’ down. if he was scared, it’s another story.

depressed bat makes crane feel some sort of way he hates. he won’t dare to call it anything, but he would rather them do smth less…..this. being held is nice tho. so he tolerates it, telling himself that it's fine just this one time. but then, casually tolerates *basks in* it every damn time from that point on, while using the same excuse…

he can be regal like that lol.

an’ speaking of regal…….

i always loved, when the bat tried to catch the scarecrow for a second time in ‘nothing to fear’, an’ jon talks to him in an odd manner. almost like a teacher would speak with a student. bruce’s slightly shameful an’ vulnerable expression is everything in that scene, esp when jon stands on the upper row of stairs looking at him. the tides shift later on, naturally. but even as a kid, it was fun to see batman being kinda humbled by some short, weird guy in a potato sack.

like, jon is so funnily rude an’ ‘argh’ through the whole ep, it’s hard not to cherish, that batman had to put up with it. the way jonathan abused his henchmen is also smth else. he literally re-broke the dude's nose, while calling him names lol. i just wish, that besides ‘lock up’, we had managed to see other sides of him, which clearly existed. love him being a rude ass almost all the time too tho, bc it suits him. an’ it’s a fun difference compared to comic crane, whose spitefulness is usually more emotionally loaded an’ childish. btas crane feels like a proper antisocial sociopath, than anythin’. but like any good sociopath, he has that one person, who he fancy *even if in a strange fashion*. so, batman has a chance to see it all, once he gets past the cold shoulder phase.

in their case *btas universe*, i picture that jon’s wary ‘get out of my way’ fashion in which he deals with bruce, would essentially build up into proper obsession, where terrifying him is less of a curious experiment an’ method of eliminating him, but also like….he legit wanna know what batman fears. what he sees. how jon affects him an' if it affects his every-day life. fights with him getting more personal an' more crucial.

from that bit, i was wondering what jonathan might have thought about times, when batman hung out with justice league. an’ if there was a villain, who he would feel envious of. an’ idk, doctor destiny came to mind. he’s not like fear-themed villain even per say, but he can control dreams, which is scary in itself. so jon *naturally for him* assuming that dr. destiny went after batman’s fears an’ gave him nightmares. which would instantly make him possessive an’ jealous lol. it’s his an’ bat’s thing! it fully escapes crane, that batman…doesn't ever prefer whatever villain he's fighting. not in way, where he thinks that he bonds with them over being tormented lol. i mean, he kinda does it with jonathan to a degree, but he'd rather they did it in more normal way.

regardless, bruce will have to tell him, that nope, like dr. destiny totally sucks compared to the scarecrow. mostly bc if he won’t, jon might make so, that dr. destiny won’t breathe air ever again lol.)

#batman animated series #btas #scarecrow #jonathan crane #bruce wayne #batman #scarebat #brew draws

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roxannepolice · 7 months ago

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Just a meta vent for all the bad takes I've seen about the Master, and especially Saxon Master (and still trying to get my ass to work on my thesis, but! it looks like I'm getting another article published so yey, ranting about the raccoon works!!!)

So yeah, this is me, ranting about why I think the reintroduction of the Master into NuWho was absolutely brilliant in s3 and what hot takes I've seen about the way it's been done on da Internet. I'm putting this under a cut, because, weeell, comparing Masters and Doctors, and even companions(!) turns into a kind of beauty paegant that has little to do with how well the author's thought got translated into the final product, AND I GET IT! People have favourites! That's fine! Yes, there's a level at which I just think Tennant and Simm look cute together*! But for full disclosure, they weren't my fisrt thoschei - I watched ALL the stuff I could from classic Who online and decided they're married when Threegado had to actively stop each other from shaking hands in The Sea Devils. Which is why it hurts me all the more when mah twinks get framed as they betrayal of the dynamic.

*But let's be honest, the aesthetical aspect is very much part of the course. Jon Pertwee and Roger Delgado might not exactly look the same, but the outfits do ooze that same 70s two ends of the queer spectrum feel, and this carried over to Anthony Ainley's harem and Paul McGann and Eric Roberts. Picking two white twinks with different shades of brown hair and eyes and rectangular vs. round faces was a conscious choice, as was picking a witchy looking woman in a victorian outfit to match a wizardy looking man in old time-y outfit, both with striking blue yes, as was juxtaposing a light blonde white woman in light outfit with a brown dark haired man in a dark outfit (why. Chibs WHY not go with Whittaker's beautiful natural hair colour unless to underline just how much the reyesque champion of light your Doctor is and cause confusion as to how regeneration works). But anyway.

I think the primary issue I take with complaints about Simm's Master is the idea that he was somehow a hard break from classic who Masters. And yes, RTD definitely went a much more unhinged manic energy way than the more controlled Original and Tremas regenerations, he admits it himself (all of this is very much influenced by me watching DW confidential). And yes, that's absolutely the case! But that's the natural result of making the Doctor, both the Eccleston and Tennant faces, much more unhinged and manic than in the classic era. Whether you frame it watsonianly as the result of the Time War, or doylistly as the result of the way television changed as a medium with the development of home cinema systems and general social shift after the end of cold war (that's me, btw, hello, McLuhan's ghost keeps possessing me), it's up to you, but the point is, if you want to maintain the two sides of the same coin energy, you have to match your earlier choices. So, no, in my opinion this wasn't a hard break from classicWho Masters, but rather cutting through all the aesthetic overgrowth to the essense of the character. Digging down to the core of the character, so to speak. Yes, Saxon Master acts in a misogyinistc manner, which wasn't there before. But that's the natural result of involving the Doctor in explicitly romantic relationships! The flip side of explicit heterosexual attraction is the othering of the "opposite" for lack of the better word sex and when your focus is in domination YOU ARE GOING TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF WHATEVER POWER IMBALANCES THE SOCIETY PROVIDES YOU WITH!! And that extends to your aesthetics going more in the direction of a noir unhinged gangster villain than a queer coded Bond villain (srsly those of you who don't get where Simm!Master's quirks come from NEED to watch White Heat with James Cagney). Like, srsly, 90% of complaints about the way the Master has changed from classic Who to Saxon is the way politics have changed from cold war "my empire is better than yours but end of the day we're going to be courteous so we don't blow each other up" to post-politics "vote for me, I'm sexy and can make you sexy too" framework of the latest fin de siecle.

But this kind of cuts down to what it the essence and what is incidental. Politeness of classic Who can be traced back to noblesse oblige that was in place in 70s and 80s. But end of of the day, it was just an epiphenomenon of the main axis of power: class. In the merry world of identity politics, it's going to be gender and race. It's all about power relations, though.

Which sort of, very abstractly, relates to the handling of mental illness in NuWho Masters. Now, the yell of "you're insane!" as a general "dude, you're not making any sense :/" has been there in classic Who alright, but this has definitely become more pronounced in NuWho, starting from Saxon possibly because the idea politics involve some element of savoir vivrve has become dismissed as political in its own right rather than giving basic directions in unknown situations but hushhhh. I think the general framing of the Master as "just" needing to "hear the music" (yeah, I hate this line, is it a metaphor Steven? if so, of what?) or generally reconciling with the Doctor, because that's "what the Master really wants is to be loved" is very much rooted in the sort of... Frommian psychoanalysis of society. I would actually argue Fromm is very much present in spirit throughout all of the more refelctive aspects of Doctor Who, the Doctor themself is very much a Frommian hero, classic and new alike, which is great! Seriously, so many of Fromm's reflections cut so deep to the core of many social issues, and I think Escape from freedom has become particularly up-to-date recently, unfortunately. And I think this relates to the general trend in moral philosphy to go from ethical judgement to psyhcological understanding, which is absolutely great as far as realy life is concerned! Yes, if you actually want to prevent violent crimes instead of just reestabslishing social sense of justice through punishment, understanding where the idea to hurt somebody comes from is the way to go! Except... I don't think it's the best way to go when it comes to fiction. Like, fiction is all about putting people in situations. The situation kind of comes before the personality, if you get my drift. There can be aesthetical choices depending on whether you've made your character more decisive or indecisive, but end of the day, you chose to put the character in a situation where they find out their father has been murdered. This, I think, is the bedrock distinction between character relatability and resonance. Can we all relate to Hamlet? Not neccessarily, perhaps you relate to Laertes more. But can we all put ourselves in the situation where we find out something horrible and are called to act upon it? Yes.

Have I drifted off? Maybe.

But my point is, I would say the way in which RTD handled Simm!Master's "insanity" has less to do with any psychological diagnosis that the vague "insanity" of Ophelia, King Lear or Goethe's Gretchen. It's not something that can be "healed", it's the fundamental shine on you crazy diamond mephistophelian elan vital that in real world psychological therapy is redirected in ways that are constructive both for the individual and their surroundings. But in fiction? It's not to be healed. It's the essential driving force, The jester, who’s most lightly weighted. Man’s energies all too soon seek the level, He quickly desires unbroken slumber, So I gave him you to join the number, To move, and work, and play the devil.

Go home, Roxanne, you're drunk, go cry to another fic of the psyche mourning eros.

#doctor who meta #thoschei #the master #simm!master

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kitsunesakii · 6 months ago

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Printer issues

Chapter 1

(A conversation between Sasha and Micheal before the siege of Jane Prentiss)

Sasha stared as the printer sputtered and grunted. A pause, another sound before silence. She grumbled and hit the roof of the printer a second time. Nothing. A small mechanical shutter and then nothing. Sasha let out an exasperated sigh and sat back. It was unbelievable that she could hack into anything Jon asked her to, but she was thwarted by a damn printer. She considered bugging Elias about it but she wasn't in the mood to deal with him. If she wanted the details to the statement printed, she'd have to use the printer at the desk to artifact storage.

Just lovely.

Sasha dragged her hands through her hair as she made her way to the other end of the Institute. She didn't have to pretend she enjoyed the place. It wasn't... Natural. She had figured out that much. And not just because of the worm infestation gathering outside the walls of the Institute. She had felt it before as well. She sensed it when they had followed up on statements only to find the person dead or missed. She had noticed it when at her desk and it felt like a thousand eyes staring daggers into the back of her head. And she noticed it now as she sat behind the Artifact storage reception desk and logged in, praying desperately that the printer would connect and behave in a timely manner.

The printer made a small wine and a short compliant huff before a paper started feeding through. Sasha dared to breathe. The paper pushed its way through and the printer made a delighted chime. She frowned. The printer paper, which should have printed out an information sheet about a drug company in relation to a health crisis, was instead a mess of colors and patterns, Sasha found it was hard to look at after a while.

Just. Bloody. Lovely.

She didn't have time to think before laughter ricocheted off of the wall and shattered through her mind. Micheal. Lord, she really needed to get paid more.

Sasha forced herself to at least try and stay calm.

"Hello again, Archivist Assistant, what leads you down here to such a place?"

She eye'd him carefully. The last interaction had left her compromised and almost dead in a graveyard and while she was safely within the Institute, she doubted that would actually be a genuine factor against him.

"The printer wasn't working." She answered rather dumbly.

He giggled and walked forward, picking up the headache of colors splattered over the paper and looking it over. "It doesn't seem broken to me." He laughed again and she felt it in her bones.

She shook her head and swallowed. "No- not this one, the one upstairs."

"Ah yes, well that one has never seemed to work." He giggled again and she managed a small frown.

What would he know about the institute's printer? She thought it was best not to ask. Instead she carefully moved towards the computer and gestured at the screen. "That's why I'm opting to use this one."

"You should try again then." His hair washed over his jaw and his shoulder as he tipped his head. His grin spreading further than the confines of his face.

Right. Sasha clicked print and watched the printer go through the motions of odd sounds before spitting out yet another distorted array of colors and shapes. Maybe she'd just be better off telling Jon he wasn't getting a paper version. Surely she could just email the details to him?

Micheal's laughter reverberated through the room as he leaned against the counter, holding his face in too long fingers.

"My, my, Assistant, whatever are you printing?"

Sasha let out a half hearted chuckle. It was too late into the day to have to deal with this. She ignored his question. "Yeah, obviously this isn't working."

"Giving up already? Oh Assistant, come on, give it another try." His smile was all teeth.

"It's Sasha." She said, rubbing her forehead.

"The printer has a name?"

"No, Micheal, my name. My name is Sasha."

He laughed again, his form spreading out like smoke before reflecting colors like glass, just transparent enough to see through whilst also noticing your reflection.

"So you say, will you try again?"

"Yes cause I'm sure it'll work better than the first two times."

"Sasha?"

She snapped her head in the direction of the voice, seeing Sally walking towards her with a concerned expression and carrying a stack of books.

"Who are you talking to?"

Sasha turned back to where Micheal was standing, except Micheal was gone and the door he had come from no longer seemed to exist. Of course.

"Oh um, no one, just talking to myself."

Sally didn't press the matter, instead disappearing down an adjacent hall. Sasha scowled and tried pressing print again, almost crying with relief as the document finally printed. Sasha quickly grabbed it and went to walk away before glancing back at the tray. Back at the two distorted pages. She grabbed those as well, folding them up and tucking them into her purse.

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

"Thank you, Sasha, I'll have Martin look into the drug company's representative tomorrow."

"Great, just don't ask me to print out anything in the future, I've had quite enough to last me for a while."

Jon gave her a quizzical expression and Sasha let out a belated sigh.

"Nevermind, I'm headed home. Don't forget to feed yourself, Jon."

He muttered some backhanded response and she headed for home.

Sasha tossed her purse on the kitchen counter and started brewing a cup of tea. She spent most of the evening getting out of work mode and into comfier attire. Finally pulling out the distorted papers from her bag and looking them over. The colors were...pretty. For lack of a better word. Oddly distracting, mildly disorienting, but pretty nonetheless. She hummed and taped them to her fridge. A bit of eye-catching decoration never hurt anyone.

Chapter:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

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imheretofuckspiders · 3 months ago

Text

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Not Particularly Relevant At All - a TMA teacher AU

Chapter 1: In Which No-one Can Read Hamlet Right

procrastinated. first ever TMA fanfiction. read here on ao3.

next chapter

Summary:

Jonathan Sims, the newest hire in the English Department at Magnus Academy, has been here for a week and a half. He is also already nearly at the end of his rope. His classes don't respect him nearly as much as the late Miss Robinson (may she rest in peace), the school headmaster is a little too interested in his affairs, and he has to cover only Shakespeare's longest play with thirty rowdy Year 8s. Martin Blackwood didn't expect to be promoted so fast, but after the sudden disappearance of the only other librarian (and apparently insufficient funds to hire a new one), he's now the Head Librarian. A misunderstanding leads them to a rivalry, all while putting up (and often commiserating with) their odd colleagues and dealing with (shock, horror) teenagers. Elias is Up To Something as usual, and his actions are Vaguely Based on True Events that happened at the high school of your humble author.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

8:50am, Tuesday

The library was always comforting. Maroon carpet dampened the footsteps of those that passed through, and the scent of paper and warm laundered armchair covers was a constant. Dappled light streamed in through the windows, forming golden mottled patterns on the shelves that stretched on and on. That was one of the major perks of working here if you asked Jon, who'd spend all his time lost in the expansive Magnus library were he a student. Alas, he didn't have time to browse today. He passed students clad in dark green wool hunched over oak tables that were surely antiques. Jon traced his fingertips over two hundred years of crudly drawn phalluses, 'B. BENNETT WAS HERE', hearts with inscribed initials and angular 's' shapes as he hunted for the collection of class readers for his Year 8s. Readers. Readers readers readers readers.... there!

A hefty-looking plastic box of identical novels sat atop the librarian's desk, with a little sticky note reading MR SIMS E5 stuck to the lid. The librarian's desk itself, he noted, was in complete disarray. All forms of notepaper were strewn about, various pen-holders scattered across the low table and a box of staples lay open next to the dusty keyboard. A somewhat childish mug with black-and-white dairy cows painted on it was half-full of tea, with a little ring of the liquid forming around its base. Jon rolled his eyes. Clearly, Mr Leitner had let things go a bit in his old age. He went to lift the box of readers, attempting to balance the thing on his knee, when-

"Hi! Can I help you?"

Jon dropped the box. A great many copies of Hamlet became very quickly acquainted with the floor as the flimsy plastic he was gripping gave way and the books tumbled out against his smaller frame. He gave a half-yowl, half-shout as he fell in a rather undignified manner on his butt.

"Oh god. Oh crap, I'm so sorry. Um, let me. Help! Yeah." A round freckled face popped out from underneath the desk. "Sorry, I startled you. Just, uh, trying to get this dog out from under my desk! Hang on-"

The face turned out to be attached to a tall, broad-chested man dressed in a furry light blue sweater. He extricated himself from underneath the desk quite nimbly and looped around the back of the counter to make his way towards a bemused Jon.

Jon blinked a few times to parse the events of the last thirty seconds. When he finally caught up, the man was kneeling next to him, gathering up slightly creased Shakespeares. The very handsome man, he might've admitted. The sun streaming in through a window backlit his honey-brown curls, forming a halo reminiscent of a saint in a cathedral fresco.

Jon shook his head. "Who are you?" he practically demanded. The man seemed slightly taken aback.

"Martin! Martin Blackwood. I- uh, I work here."

"No you don't."

There was an awkward silence that stretched on for years.

"I do, actually! Well, uh, I do now. Mr Leitner's gone." Jon had apparently failed to cover his shocked expression in time. The man scrambled to clarify, flapping his hands. "No, no, no, he's not like, dead, he's just not working here anymore. I am! I'm the librarian." He scooped up the last of the readers and tossed them back into the box. One of the panels sagged and snapped off, spilling a few books out again. "Oooh. Yikes. Uh, let me help you up, then I'll find you another box." He dragged Jon to his feet, then hurried back around the desk.

"I'm sorry, you said there was a dog here?"

"Oh no, not a real one!' He laughed nervously. "I was- I lost my correction tape, it's dog-shaped, and it was the only one I had, and I really liked the dog on it, so I sort of tore apart the desk looking for it, and only then I remembered it fell under the desk, so I was looking for it- aha!" He rambled as he ducked under the counter and triumphantly pulled out a plastic correction tape roller with a Shiba Inu face. Jon raised his eyebrows. In the short time that he'd been teaching at Magnus Academy, he'd become known for something that the students dubbed 'the Sims stare'. His particular way of expressing how unimpressed he was had a visceral effect on people, and was somewhat useful when quelling unwanted behaviour in class. It seemed to work on Martin Blackwood the suspicious 'librarian', who balked under his cold gaze.

"I'm really really sorry about everything, in fact-" he hauled a brand new identical box onto the desk and began stacking the books into it, "Let me carry them for you. You’re in E5, right?”

“I think I’ll be quite alright carrying them on my own.”

“Sorry, you just looked like you needed some help.”

The Sims stare evolved into a Sims glare, and Martin immediately realised his faux pas. “Oh, no, not that you look weak or anything, I just- I-“

Jon heaved the box off the counter. “Goodbye, Mr Blackwood.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

12:40pm, Tuesday

“So, let’s just pause there. Based on that scene, what can we already say about Hamlet?” Jon stopped the unenthusiastic class reading of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. He’d never enjoyed getting a class of 13 year olds to read lines they could barely pronounce, yet alone understand, but studying a play practically demanded it. There was a drawn-out silence, each dead-eyed student daring everyone else to speak.

Finally, one boy put his hand up. “The new king and his mum are kind of dicks.” The class erupted into giggles. Jon sighed, looking over the edge of his glasses. “Thank you for using such eloquent language, Mr O’Connor. I’m sure the class stands to benefit from the showcase of your vocabulary,” he snarked. Finn O’Connor blushed and fell into quiet chatter with the other two boys sitting next to him.

“But, Mr O’Connor is indeed right. One of the hallmarks of any form of tragedy is its tortured and tragic hero, which you would know about if you did the pre-reading. Hamlet’s father has just died, and his stepfather, who’s also his uncle-"

The class let out a collective “Ewwwww!”.

“Well, that was feudalism, back in the day. Anyway, his stepfather and his mother are already telling him to get over the death of his father. He hates that his mother has remarried, and on top of that, Horatio’s just told him that his father’s ghost is roaming the castle. So, it’s safe to say that his mental health already isn’t the best to begin with.”

A girl with frizzy hair put up her hand. “He’s kinda emo.”

A few snickers from the class. “What do you mean by that, Miss Smith?” Jon inquired.

“Like, he dresses in black and like, moping around all the time.”

Another girl, one with straight black hair, shot back, “His dad just died, Ariana. He's probably depressed.”

“Can you imagine emo Hamlet though? Black eyeliner and-“

“ALRIGHT! I don’t think any of that is relevant.” Jon cut her off, hoping to avoid some rather painful memories of his university days.

“Let’s continue with the reading. Who wants to be Laertes? Mr Huang? Okay. Anyone for Ophelia?”

No one responded. “I’m going to name someone in ten seconds if no one wants to be Ophelia.”

A boy raised his hand while his mates cackled and slapped him on the back.

“Alright, Mr Shah, you go ahead. Enter Laertes and Ophelia, his sister.” Anish Shah smirked at Finn, who had been reading for Hamlet, and whispered "No homo.” Finn rolled his eyes. Jeremy Huang cleared his throat.

“My necessaries are embarked. Farewell. And, sister, as the winds give benefit And convey is assistant, do not sleep, But let me hear from you.”

“Do you doubt that?”

The students burst into laughter. Anish had put on a ridiculously squeaky voice for Ophelia, and his cheeky grin showed his clear intent to continue this for the rest of the play. “Mr Shah, please do not read with that horrible muppet voice. I understand that you don’t exactly sound like an Ophelia, but Frank Oz you are not,” Jon called over the rowdy class, feebly trying to regain control. The chatter died down far too slowly, and Jeremy continued again in a robotic monotone.

“For Hamlet, and the “triffling” of his favour, Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood, A violet in the youth of p- of primy nature, Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting, The perfume and suppliance of a minute, No more.”

“NO MORE BUT SO?”

Anish had switched to a deep bellow. The class began to giggle again. Jon leaned on his hand, too weary to pause the reading again.

“For nature, crescent, does not grow alone In threws- in thews and bulk, but, as this temple waxes, The inward service of the mind and soul Grows wide with-all. Perhaps he loves you now, And now no soil nor cart- cautel doth bes- besmirch-

Jonathan Sims groaned quietly, fidgeting with the pens on his desk. This was going to be a long day.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

4:25pm, Tuesday

“Have you met that one English teacher yet?”

“Which one?” Tim didn’t look up as he loaded a stack of assessments into the boot of his car. Timothy Stoker shone like the sun. Not the weak British sun either, but the sun of a place well known for surfing and margaritas on the beach and sun-kissed cheeks. Maybe an Australian sun. His black hair was slicked back, and had somehow managed to stay perfect the entire school day. His dark brown eyes were like pools of chocolate, and his shirt hugged his muscular figure-

Martin internally kicked himself when he realised that he was waxing poetic about his friend-slash-ex. Again.

“Yknow, the uh, the short one. Looks angry all the time? Greying a bit? I think his name was Mr Sims, or something.”

“Ah! Jon. He's a friend of mine. He started about a week before you did.”

“Yeah.” Martin shifted uncomfortably on his feet, causing Tim to raise his eyebrows.

“What happened, Martin?” It was more interrogative than a question.

Martin sighed. "I may have made a complete fool of myself in front of him.”

Tim flashed him a look that said "I will tell everybody on Facebook that you have haemmorhoids if you do not tell me more immediately".

"I was under the desk, then he came up to get a box. And I think I spooked him when I said hi? He made this awful cat noise and fell on the floor, and the box broke, and all the books went spilling out. And then I accidentally said that there was a dog in the library, and that Leitner had died, and that Jon looked weak. He just stormed off in a huff."

Tim chuckled. "Christ, you must've had quite the morning." He slammed the boot closed and leaned against the taillight of his red hatchback. "So, what'd you think of him?"

"I'm more worried about what he thinks of me," Martin scoffed. "I probably looked like a complete idiot."

"You'll be alright, Marto. Jon's a bit stuffy, but he warms up to people. My question for you, is: would you... consider him?"

"What the hell does that mean, Tim? What's that supposed to mean?" He had a mischevious smile stretched across his face.

"He is single. And may or may not be ready to mingle. I'll have to ask him again."

"TIM! I said I wanted a boyfriend once, you don't have to present every single one of your friends as a potential partner!" Martin exclaimed, to Tim's amusement. "Besides, he probably hates me."

"And we can change that. Hence True, but not Relevant."

"Don't you rebuttal tree me."

"Baby, I do debating for a living."

"You coach debating because you think it makes you look cooler than the other humanities teachers."

"And it does. Get in the car."

Martin doubted anything could change Jon Sims' impression of him after their disastrous first meeting. His drawn, stern face had nearly turned crimson with distaste after Martin's final comment. He'd probably not even want to look Martin in the face after the humiliating experience of being taken down by a stack of books, of all things. He was just so small, and irritable, and Martin fought off the urge to imagine him as an angry hamster. An angry hamster with cheekbones that could slice through paper, and a voice like smooth salted butter. And Martin absolutely held no interest in the way he'd sternly rebuked him with his steely eyes.

"-and that's why Sasha had to watch Mamma Mia. Martin?"

Martin fell back to Earth. He was in the shotgun seat (as Tim affectionately dubbed it) of a 2012 Toyota Yaris. The worst of The Chainsmokers' discography played softly from the scratchy radio.

"Uh, yeah. Cool story, Tim."

Tim laughed his little pity-laugh. The laugh he laughed when a friend made a bad joke, or when he detected a particularly large concentration of Gay Pining.

"Just send the guy a box of chocolates with a little note. He'll forgive you. By the way, he likes Old Gold."

"Old Gold? Christ." Martin always had a soft spot for tooth-rottingly sweet, decadent chocolate, the type with fruit or gummy bits in. White chocolate, or those creme eggs that you could get around Easter. Those were delicious.

"Rum and raisin too. Sorry, Marto, but you seem to have fallen for someone's grandpa."

"Again- I am not into him! We talked once, and I dropped thirty copies of Hamlet on him!"

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much."

"That's not even how the quote goes."

Tim puffed up in false indignation as they pulled up next to Martin's apartment building. "Martin Blackwood, how dare you show such insolence!" he cried in a terrible impression of Jon. "Dismount my humble steed at once!" Martin stifled a giggle as he opened the car door and stepped out, careful not to bump his head on the frame.

"Thanks, by the way. For dropping me off."

"No problemo, Marto. Call me if you need anything!"

Tim popped on his sunglasses and turned the radio up. Closer blared from the speakers, and Martin smiled as he tried to drive off in a somewhat cinematic manner and was forced to make a U-turn because he'd driven the wrong way up the street.

#rosencrantz and guildenstern are not particularly relevant at all #tma high school au #r&g au #tma #the magnus archives #tma fanfic #jmart #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #the misha archives

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bellysoupset · 4 months ago

Text

Superbowl - Aftershocks

"Awn, my baby," Leo sank down to his knees, scooping up JD as she ran to them as soon as they entered the apartment. The cat snuggled up in his arms, purring and rubbing her head against his chin, "we abandoned you, I'm sorry..."

Behind him, Jonah let out a tired scoff, moving slowly as if he was still sore from the hellish weekend and falling on the couch with a groan, "home sweet home."

Leo got up, kissing the top of JD's head and holding her sideways like a baby. He circled the couch and then unceremoniously flopped on top of his boyfriend, sitting on his lap and causing Jon to let out a "OOF" at his weight.

"Fuck, Leo," Jonah groaned, wincing, "my stomach is still super tender."

"I'm not that heavy," Leo dismissed him, wrinkling his nose in an offended manner. It was not that he didn't care, but after yesterday night and Jonah being the most annoying patient on Earth, coupled with whatever horrible tension was going on, he was cranky and wanted to be dotted on, "cuddle me."

Jonah let out a scoff, but squirmed under him, so he could properly lean back against the couch and Leo into his arms. Since the blonde was sitting sideways on his lap, all Jon could do was stroke his back, fingers running up his spine and teasing the hairs on his nape in a rhythmic manner.

"Do you think they're going to be okay?" Leo asked, still pouting and continuing to pet JD, shoulders seeming to relax as Jonah stroked his back.

"Who?"

"God, all of them," Leo sounded frustrated, "not a single soul was OK- Well, I guess Wendy."

Jonah let out a huff, leaning in so he could rest his chin on Leo's shoulder, planting a kiss there, "I think I got through Luke... Vin's a whole other can of worms, though... And Bell..." he grimaced at the memory of her face as Vince's joke dropped on her. In the middle of the hurricane, she had almost been pushed aside by Vince and Luke's histrionics and that worried him.

"Yeah, she seemed devastated," Leo sighed, "what do you mean Vin's a can of worms, you don't think Luke's overreacting?"

Jonah raised his eyebrows, surprised. If there was one person he thought would side with Luke, it would be Leo, "do you?"

"Is it bad that Vin is getting super close with someone other than Luke? He doesn't have copyright over the man, c'mon," Leo rolled his eyes and Jonah frowned.

"That's not what their fight is about, though," he pointed out and was surprised with himself at how defensive he felt over Luke, "Lucas was a dick about Max, but the fight is because Vin said he'd end their friendship over some insult he threw at Vince."

"Why was Luke insulting Vince in the first place?" Leo scoffed, "the guy has to take everything because the little prince doesn't wanna share his bestie? Sounds delusional."

OH?

Jonah pulled back, now fully defensive and confused, "what the fuck, Leo?" he asked, a little more dryly than intended, "where is this coming from?"

Leo had the decency of blushing and he stopped petting JD, who meowed at him and tried to pat his hand with her paw, "look, when Vin moved out, none of you went and talked with him. I did. He was a mess and it was because we all made his life hell about leaving, unfairly so... He made a fucking friend and he's done everything to involve Max with us instead of just having separate friend groups like he could have done, and honestly maybe even should've, so I think it's unfair he's getting heat again."

Jonah hadn't thought of that and his cheeks burned with embarrassment. Truth be told, he hadn't liked Vince moving away any better than the rest of the group, in his case because he had seen first hand how distraught Wendy and Luke were, how horribly Vince had communicated that decision. To top it off, he also hadn't been paying Max any mind, as far as Jonah was concerned, the new guy was like that annoying cousin that no one cared about, but was included in their hangouts.

"And I like Max, he's nice," Leo finished off, pouting, "Luke needs to grow up."

"Vince said he'd end their friendship," Jonah reiterated, trying to communicate what he had understood in a heartbeat, "wouldn't that offend you? If Vince said this to you?"

Leo stammered, chewing on his lip, before sighing, "yes," he admitted, "it'd upset me, but Jonah, for Vince to say that to anyone, let alone Luke, he must've fucked up too... You realize that, right? I get why Luke's sad, but he must've said something horrible for Vin to snap like this."

"He accused Vin of cheating on Wendy with Max," Jonah said, then rushed to clear up as Leo's eyes widened like saucers, "not really! More like a throwaway jab..."

"Throwaway jab?!" Leo scoffed, "what the fuck, Jon!? Of course Vince's pissed, wouldn't you be!? Luke basically called him a cheater!"

Jonah shrugged, looking away. Yes, if it was him, he would've punched the living lights out of Luke, but then again... He wouldn't have threated to end their friendship, because it wasn't a friendship to begin with. Luke was his brother as far as he was concerned, he didn't like him half the time, it didn't mean he got to walk away... Clearly, Vince felt differently.

"He needs to apologize," Leo decided, snapping Jonah back into present and the other man frowned, confused, so Leo cleared up, "Luke. If Vince is his best friend as he claims he is, then Lucas needs to show some fucking respect and apologize."

"So does Vince," Jonah decided, grinding his teeth and feeling a weird urge to shove Leo off his lap, no longer feeling like cuddling, "I don't care if Luke was an asshole, Vince acted as if they're fucking acquaintances and not best friends for the past seven years. If their friendship is that flimsy-"

"It doesn't matter if they're best friends, you don't cross a boundary just because of that! I'm marrying you and if you were an asshole to me you'd need to apologize!" Leo snapped at him, "Vince wasn't threatening their friendship, he was setting a boundary. Jesus."

"Luke will apologize," Jonah said, feeling more than a little cross and patting Leo's thigh so he'd get off his lap, "he will, he's distraught that he messed up, but I don't think Vince realizes how deep his words cut Luke and I'd go as far as saying that he doesn't think he should apologize-"

"Which he doesn't," Leo moved away, annoyed, and Jonah got up, crossing his arms.

"Which he does," he said strongly, "if at our first nasty fight I threatened to break up with you, things wouldn't be the same. You'd always think I can end things easily, as soon as things get bad," he pointed out to Leo, "and then the next thing that happened, you'd immediately think this too. Vince needs to apologize too," Jonah rubbed his face, biting down a grimace as his stomach rolled, still crampy and queasy after such horrid 24 hours, "I'm going to take a shower."

"Fine," Leo said, bitterly, grabbing JD and cuddling her up, pouting.

Jonah scoffed at the childish mannerism, but opted for picking his battles and walked away. His whole body ached and he felt like the weekend had just aged him 10 years.

He cranked up the hot water, getting under the cascade and trying to force his muscles to relax. Jonah scrubbed vigorously all over to get rid of the clammy sensation, then rested his forehead to the tiled wall and closed his eyes, breathing in and out slowly as the hot water ran down his back.

Jonah stayed there for as long as he thought he could before Leo came knocking asking if he was alright, then wrapped himself in a robe and walked to their double sink, leaning over it to look at himself. The hot water had brought some warmth back to his skin and Jonah reached for his night cream, but he was so tired, physically and emotionally that he gave up with only half his face moisturized.

He stumbled back to bed, sliding on his silk pajamas pants then immediately falling into bed.

It wasn't long before tiptoed inside, heading for a shower too and then turning off the lights as he got under the blankets.

"Are you asleep?" Leo whispered and Jonah let out a groan, not bothering with words. His fiancé let out a wounded noise, then cuddled closer, wrapping himself around Jon, "don't be mad."

"I'm not mad," Jonah scoffed, although he was annoyed. It was a weird feeling he had felt only a handful of times in his life. When Angie had moved to France and he was still in boarding school, when he went to Veronica's funeral and saw Kit doing that dumb eloquent speech and Luke was clearly wasted, when Lucas had ended up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning and Kit showed up to bully the medical team... It was protectiveness.

"You sure sound mad," Leo grumbled, but didn't move away, intertwining their legs and pressing his cheek to Jon's chest. His hair was humid and smelling like Jonah's fancy shampoo, even though he had told Leo a million times to stop using it.

"I'm going to ask Luke to be my best man," he told Leo, not asked. He expected some type of resistance, but his boyfriend only yawned.

"Duh? I thought you had asked already."

"Not yet," Jonah bit down his lip, "you'll ask Vin, right?"

"Yep," Leo started stroking his stomach, slowly and sleepily, "would you divorce me if I was a dick to you?" he asked in a small voice and Jonah let out a scoff, smiling now.

"No, I wouldn't," he promised, "would you?"

"No," Leo sounded offended, lips brushing his naked chest since they were so closely pressed together, "until death do us part, Jonah. If you're a dick I'll just make sure its your death."

#mywriting #jonah banks #leo wagner #truly not much going on just them hashing out the gossip #as usual

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