#I actually appreciate how tim immediately goes ‘it’s not your fault’ as well? like he could’ve just blamed this 15/16 year old but he didn’t | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

staysaneathome · 3 years

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This Was Not A Dare, Reigen

Jon glares at each of the— the suspects traitors in front of him, tape recorder clutched tight in one hand.

Martin, wringing his hands uselessly, eyes wide and beseeching. Tim, fists clenched hard enough for his knuckles to go white and returning his gaze with a death stare of his own. Sasha, arms folded to form a barrier between Jon and herself, expression a perfect mask of concern. Reigen, radiating disappointment in every one of his gestures and quips. Elias, eyes weary, fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Some intervention this is turning out to be.

Jon wants to scream. Wants to reach out and shake someone, anyone, until they admit he’s making sense and it’s the rest of the world that’s gone mad.

Every single one of them (except Martin) could’ve killed Gertrude. He knows he has no proof that they did, but he has no proof that they didn’t either, can’t they see that? If they don’t want him to suspect them, it should be easy for them to actually give him proof of their innocence (like Martin did), instead of just repeating platitudes of “you know this isn’t acceptable adult behavior, Jon” and “you’re better than this, Jon”.

Who cares about knowing better or acceptable behavior when it’s your very life on the line? He’s half tempted to throttle the con artist, see how dignified or adult he is when he’s the one with a murderer on his tail!

…Not that Jon is a murderer. It’s just the principle of the thing, is all.

“Jon,” Elias says, tone soothing in all the ways he doesn’t want it to be. “This is absurd. This goes far beyond an unhealthy work environment. I’ll admit it’s partly my fault for letting it get this bad, I should have intervened earlier.”

Reigen cuts in with a hand gesture that is as effusive as it is dismissive. “That doesn’t make his behavior okay, Bouchard-san. It may be bad here, but Jon chose to follow me, Tim and Sasha, and yell at Martin, rather than going to the police or paying a detective, like Herlock Sholmes or something.”

Jon sputters. “Wh- It’s Sherlock Holmes, not—and he’s fictional!”

Reigen blinks sleepily, one eyebrow raised. “Oh? That doesn’t sound right. Are you sure?”

“Yes!” Jon all but shouts, rapidly reconsidering his stance on braining the sardonic little git with his tape recorder. “Don’t you even—an-and you’re deflecting again! Just like with your ridiculous ‘haunted gun’ nonsense!”

“I’m not!” Reigen says, clearly deflecting. “I’ve seen this kind of thing loads of times as the number one psychic. When a weapon kills lots of people over 100 years, the bad energy gets bigger and bigger until the gun grows an evil spirit and is hungry—”

“I refuse to believe Gertrude Robinson was murdered by a sentient blunderbuss!!”

“Be that as it may,” Elias interrupts, shooting them both a stern frown. “This is exactly the kind of thing I was talking about, Jon. Given how badly it’s affected your work ethic, I will be taking direct action to ensure it does not continue.”

Jon can feel his shoulders hunch almost against his will, dread pooling in his stomach at the thought of whatever punishment is about to be unjustly inflicted on him.

Only Martin looks half as worried as he feels, glancing between him and Elias nervously. By contrast, Tim looks downright triumphant, smirk nasty and vindictive. Sasha’s somewhere between those two, not openly celebrating his soon-to-be-downfall, but not acting like she’d lift a finger on his behalf either, though he’s unsure why that feels like it should surprise him. She’s always been as neutral as Switzerland.

Reigen, oddly enough, has more in common with Martin than with Tim. He’s staring at Elias like he’s waiting for a bit of news he knows he won’t like.

Jon thinks he’d appreciate that more if he wasn’t about to be unfairly lambasted simply for trying to stop a murderer and bring justice for an old woman who probably died frightened and alone. Much like Jon probably will once he’s been hobbled by whatever Elias is about to say next.

“Such as by restricting access to the archives from members of the public who are ultimately doing you more harm than good.”

…Wait.

What?

“What?!” Tim, Martin, and Sasha echo.

Reigen glances between them all, blinking in confusion.

Jon shares the sentiment entirely. His punishment is…for someone else to be removed from the archives? Someone he doesn’t employ or even like that much, no less?

He must have misheard, surely.

Though maybe not, given how Tim looks aghast, glancing between Elias and Reigen. “Okay, no, Reigen’s clearly not the problem here—”

“I’m very sorry, Tim, but Jon has made several remarks about the disruptive nature of Mr. Arataka’s presence in the archives.” Elias sighs. “From the arguments like the one we just witnessed to the nonsensical purchases of oddities inspired by his presence, such as Duolingo subscriptions,” Meaningful glare at Jon who resists the urge to clutch his phone guiltily, “That are now billed on the Archives’ expenses, it unfortunately seems as though he is dragging down productivity for all of you as an active stressor.”

“But we’re much better equipped to take statements from people who don’t speak English because of that!” Martin protests, stepping forward. “Isn’t it an advantage to have a more, more international perspective for our work?”

“One positive in a sea of negatives does not an advantage make.” Elias says, sounding infuriatingly like he’s misquoting something. “And really Martin, how realistic is it that this would help in more than a few isolated cases? I expected better from you.”

Martin’s face crumples, and his shoulders hunch, making himself smaller.

Jon finds his own mouth opening to—what? Say something? What would he even say?

Luckily, Sasha intervenes before he can dig his own grave further. “That’s as may be, but he’s a wonder for morale. He and Jon are funny, not anything serious, and I don’t think we’d have come to you about Jon‘s behavior unless he encouraged us to—”

“Which only fits into the delusion where Jon feels an outsider is rallying his subordinates against him, which is not good for his paranoid outlook.” Elias replies calmly. “And it’s never a healthy work environment when one employee feels the others are making them the butt of a joke.”

“I’d say that’s not as bad as when the boss feels he has the right to violate everyone’s privacy whenever he wants to just ’cause he’s feeling sad!” Tim growls.

Elias begins to answer, before Reigen finally speaks up.

“Sorry,” The con artist says carefully. “But you are…«I know this one…» banning me from the Archives? Yes?”

“That is the long and short of it, yes.” Elias says, grudgingly

“Why?” Reigen challenges, eyes hard and searching. “What have I, personally, done that’s wrong here? What behavior do I need to correct?”

There’s a moment of silence. The whirring of the tape recorder sounds uncomfortably loud.

“Mr. Arataka, are you currently under the employ of the Magnus Institute?” Elias asks, brow furrowed.

“Ah, no, no, but—”

“Are you looking to become employed by the Institute at this point in time, as a prospective member of the Archival Staff?” He fires off rapidly.

“Su-Sorry, but if you could just go a little slower—”

“Then I am afraid that unless you’re looking to fill out an employment contract or a Statement form, we cannot help you, Mr. Arataka.” Elias spreads his hands wide. “We are an academic institution, a place of research and learning. The Institute cannot allow for social dalliances on company time, especially not when those visits are negatively contributing to the work environment and the wellbeing of our staff.”

Tim throws up his hands, “I-I cannot believe this!”

Reigen’s mouth works soundlessly for a moment.

“Arataka is my…what do you call it? First name?” He says, at last. “Using it in this context is…inappropriate. Please call me Reigen, if you would, Bouchard-san.”

“Of course. My mistake, Mr. Reigen.” Elias does have the decency to look somewhat abashed. “Though, regrettably, I am going to have to ask you to leave the premises within the next twenty minutes, or I will be forced to call security.”

Reigen nods, jerkily, hands stuffed in his pockets.

Jon almost wants to call out to the fraud as he turns to go, grab him by the shoulder, pick another argument, something. He knows he should be happy, be glad that this thorn in his side will finally stop bothering him, but instead he just feels—befuddled. Off-kilter.

What happened to the man who once spent three hours arguing for the “spiritual effectiveness” of entirely performative and useless rituals, saying that ensuring his clients left his office fooled and contented was better than actually uncovering genuine supernatural forces and learning all there was to know about them? Why is he going so-so easily now, when he’s made Jon fight tooth and nail in every debate he’s had with the so-called psychic?

At the door, the con man pauses.

“Bouchard-san. You said I could come back if I had a statement to give?”

Elias shifts in his seat, looking bemused. “W-well, yes. That is a service we do provide. Of course, the statement would have to be genuine, and verifiable as such before we let you back into the Archives.”

“We don’t even do that for most of the rubbish we do take,” Tim mutters under his breath, and though Jon is glad he’s not the one being shot a quelling look, he does have to agree.

The con man turns back.

He’s got that smirk on his face that immediately puts Jon’s hackles up on instinct, prepared to argue against whatever inane point he’s come up with now to defend his phony psychic title.

“Gotcha.” Reigen says, far too cheerfully. «Ja ne.»

Then he strolls out of the office, as cool as a cucumber.

Jon could even swear he hears him whistling as he makes his way down the stairs.

There’s a moment of stunned silence.

“I’d do him.” Sasha pipes up, unhelpfully.

“Sasha!” Martin hisses, scandalized. “D-don’t you have a, a—”

“Oh, I don’t have to worry about that.” She remarks, far too blasé for someone in a newly committed relationship. “Tom’s heard about him too, and he agreed he’s just our type.”

“And I’m not?” Tim jokes, but there’s a hard edge to it that Jon’s found himself increasingly familiar with in the past few weeks.

Sasha shrugs with a mischievous little smile, as if that mattered very little to her.

Elias coughs. “Right. Well. Whatever your relations to Mr. Reigen are, please try to limit them to outside the workplace in future.”

The rest of the intervention is surprisingly subdued. Elias gives Jon access to the footage from the cameras in the rest of the Institute, and Tim bodychecks him on the way out of the office, muttering about how nice it must be to never face any consequences for his actions. Sasha follows, the way she won’t meet his eyes a condemnation in its own right.

Even Martin doesn’t say anything to him, just bites his lip and hurries past back down to the Archives. It doesn’t sting. It doesn’t.

Even as he settles in to watch and rewatch the CCTV records of Gertrude’s last week alive, Jon can’t shake the ridiculous feeling of foreboding that’s dogged him since Reigen left.

Most of him wants to say it comes from the fact that despite the fact that Reigen has not appeared in any of the camera records for the Magnus Institute before he started his term as Head Archivist in 2016, isn’t banning him from the Archives just letting the con man run around London with impunity, with no way for Jon to ascertain his movements or motives? That instead of solving a problem, Elias has just given a potential murderer free reign to escape?

But a small part of Jon, one that never could deny the sensation of being watched, that is frozen in second-hand terror whenever he reads a Statement, knows, Knows that it this stems more from the idea that the fraud will actually accomplish what Elias has unwittingly challenged him to do.

The illogical but pervasive surety that he will do so.

Jon’s not sure if he’s more afraid that Reigen Arataka will vanish entirely, another unfortunate victim become an unsolved mystery.

Or that he’ll come back, and bring whatever he’s managed to unearth on his insane quest with him.

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dickwheelie · 3 years

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heyyyy coming in a few days early with the “expression” prompt for @aspecarchivesweek! just a lil something about jon wearing a shirt he doesn’t like. enjoy!

(also on ao3)

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All of Jon’s clothes are in greyscale.

Well, this isn’t entirely true—some are a very light tan, or a dingy brown. One mothbitten vest is a glaring 70’s orange that Jon deeply dislikes, so it stays at the back of his closet. These are the clothes he inherited from his parents and possibly also his grandparents, which he can’t bring himself to throw away. The rest, however, strictly range from white to black, practical to a fault.

Jon has a working theory that he may be the first person in history with an allergy to clothing stores. Entering one instantly stresses him out, and all he wants is to get what he came for and get out as quickly as possible. Figuring out how to match colors, as he eventually learns by the time he’s in uni, is a waste of time and consideration. Much easier and simpler to only buy clothes in shades that match no matter how you swap them out.

Of course, there are exceptions, and as life goes on in its chaotic and unaccountable way, he acquires items of clothing he wouldn’t otherwise have picked for himself. A colorful sweater from Georgie as a birthday gift. A free T-shirt from a uni event. He keeps these things for their sentimental value, but rarely wears them out of the house.

However, sometimes life is not only chaotic but also utterly unmanageable. And sometimes Jon finds himself with a promotion he doesn’t really know what to do with, an entire archive to organize, and less time than he’s ever had to do laundry.

And, well. One has to wear something to work, doesn’t one.

This is what Jon keeps telling himself as he miserably pulls on the last clean shirt left in his flat. He should know; he’s checked four times, and if he checks a fifth he’ll be late for work. He gives himself a glance in the small, dirty mirror stuck to the inside of his closet door, and looks away almost immediately, strangely embarrassed.

It’s just a long-sleeved, striped T-shirt, which is maybe a bit unprofessional for the workplace, but it’s not as though anybody minds how the people who work in the basement dress. The problem comes from its colors. Well, one of its colors. Three of them—black, grey, white—are perfectly suitable for Jon. But following those, at the bottom of the shirt, is a glaring, bright violet.

The shirt is a casualty of the aforementioned chaos of life. A friend of an acquaintance had given it to Jon to wear to a pride parade several years back, which he had ended up skipping out on anyway. Since then the shirt had been kept out of sight and mind, packed into the back of Jon’s closet for a rainy day that he’d never really expected to arrive.

There’s a first time for everything, Jon thinks, almost reflexively. The words don’t mean much to him, philosophically speaking, but they are a steadying mantra nonetheless. He goes to pull on his coat; by some measure of luck, it’s a cold day out. He plans not to take it off again until he’s safely back in his flat that night.

The trouble is, of course, that wearing one’s coat while making tea in the break room in an adequately-heated basement looks rather conspicuous to one’s coworkers, and leads to questions.

“You feeling alright, boss?” Tim asks, as he retrieves his bagged lunch from the fridge.

“Yes,” Jon says, stiffly. “Perfectly fine. I’m just cold.”

Sasha, who has followed Tim in, says, “Not sick, I hope.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Jon says again, though he is beginning to feel a bit overheated. “It’s just cold in here. You don’t feel cold?”

Tim and Sasha shake their heads, looking concerned.

“I’m fine,” Jon says for the third time in thirty seconds, and promptly flees the break room.

By late afternoon, Jon is sweltering, and has no choice but to take off the coat. He’s careful to close his office door before he does so, resolving to put it back on if he needs to be seen by anyone for the rest of the day.

Though the garish violet stripe in his periphery is distracting at first, he loses himself in his work soon enough, spending an hour or two tearing through a stack of statements that are, by and large, utter nonsense.

He loses himself in his work so much, in fact, that when there’s a knock at his office door, he says “Come in,” without thinking.

“Hey, Jon,” says Tim as he enters, “d’you have a copy of statement zero-one-three-two . . .”

Tim’s voice drifts off, and Jon looks up, irritated. “Zero-one-three-two-what?”

Tim’s staring at him, an eager expression on his face, and Jon’s stomach goes cold. He looks down at the shirt, remembering, and stops himself from groaning. If he doesn’t react, maybe Tim will leave it alone. “What number were you looking for, Tim?” he says instead, very calmly and professionally.

But of course it doesn’t work. Tim’s face breaks into a smile, and he gives Jon a big, showy once-over. Jon rolls his eyes even before the words are out of Tim’s mouth. “Looking good, boss.”

“Tim, I have even less patience for sarcasm than usual, so if you could please—”

“Who said anything about sarcasm? You look good! Casual, ah, Tuesday suits you, Jon.”

Jon puts his elbows up on his desk and massages his temples. “I ran out of laundry.”

“Ah, been there.” Tim seems to have taken Jon’s resignation as an invitation, because he helps himself to the chair opposite Jon’s desk. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for the pride flag type, though. Don’t even think I’ve seen you with laptop stickers.”

“No,” Jon says, “I’m not. Not usually. This is just the only thing I had lying around. It’s from years ago, I never wear it.”

“Aw.” Tim genuinely looks disappointed. Jon wonders if perhaps he’s losing what remains of his tenuous ability to read people. “That’s a shame. You look good in purple.”

Jon has reached a point in his life, he’s fairly certain, where he ought to have heard such a comment before, or at least know the proper response. In actuality, he cannot recall a single instance of someone in his adult life complimenting his choice of fashion. He looks down at the shirt again. It’s the same as it was before: too-bright and obvious. He highly doubts it could look good on him in any shape or form. “Um. Thank you?” he says, sounding more bewildered than grateful.

“Really! It, like, brings out your eyes, or something. I dunno, but I think it’s nice on you. Not sure why you went through all the trouble to hide it all day.”

Jon shifts in his chair. “It’s . . . I mean, it’s very loud, isn’t it. And obvious. It’ll just attract attention.”

Tim looks at him for a moment or two. “Jon,” he says, “is this just about the shirt? Or is it also about the shirt?”

“That makes no sense, Tim.”

“You know what I mean.”

Jon, admittedly, does. One of the things he appreciates most about Tim is that they can be honest with one another, if only after some customary back-and-forth. He sighs deeply. “It’s—it’s just . . . a lot. I know it isn’t, really, in the grand scheme, it’s just you and Sasha, a-and Martin, too, I suppose. And it’s London, no one’s going to—it’s safe. I know that. B-But it’s a lot, being seen with everything—out in the open. By strangers. To know that they know. And even if they don’t know, they’ll . . . they’ll probably be able to guess.” He stares down at the scratched, cheap wood of his desk. Long ago, someone had carved a tiny pentagram on the lip of it. If Jon’s sense of humor weren’t buried under three layers of anxiety at the moment, he’d probably find it funny. “And I know it’s childish, to care what a bunch of strangers would think. But I can’t . . . I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t just let it go.”

There’s a painfully long pause before Tim speaks up again.

“Well, I’ve got good news for you, Jon.”

Jon looks up at him warily, and finds that Tim is smiling at him. “What?”

He points at Jon’s coat where it hangs off the back of his chair. “You can put that back on.”

Jon blinks at him.

“At five,” Tim goes on, “you can put your coat back on, button it up, and walk out of here, and when you get back to your flat, Jon, you can do your bloody laundry. And you never have to wear that shirt ever again. Problem solved.”

“But . . .” Jon’s voice peters out before he can come up with a real protest.

“If wearing pride colors makes you feel like that,” Tim says, his voice gentler, “then don’t wear them. Simple as that. Not everybody’s got to carry a flag twenty-four-seven. Or ever. Doesn’t make you any less queer. Hell, even I take the pins off my bag sometimes.” Tim squints into the middle distance, muttering, “I can never seem to get the laptop stickers off, though.”

“But—what about what you said about me wearing purple?” He’s grasping at straws, he knows, but Tim’s argument is quite good. And the thought of never wearing this particular shirt again does sound rather appealing.

“So wear an aubergine button-down every once in a while!” Tim shrugs. “Or don’t! It’s none of my business.” He tilts his head to the side. “Actually, please do wear an aubergine button-down sometime. You’d turn some heads down here.” He pauses. “Figuratively, I mean. I’m sure everyone would be very respectful.”

Jon lets out a startled laugh. “Alright,” he says, feeling lighter. He runs a hand through his hair. “Maybe, sometime, I’ll . . . I’ll try it.”

“I know you like your blacks and whites, Jon,” Tim says, “and I’m not here to tell you how to dress. But if you ever need advice, or want to borrow a colorful, strictly nondenominational shirt . . .” He points both thumbs at himself. “I’m your guy.”

“Okay,” Jon says, and is surprised to find that, in this one, specific case, he is.

“And,” Tim adds, pointing a professorial finger in the air, “it’s not childish to care about what other people think of you. Pretty sure it’s the most universal thing there is. Welcome to the human race, Jon. You’re among us peons, now.”

Jon raises an eyebrow. “How unfortunate,” he says, drily, and Tim cackles.

Jon wears his coat home, keeping it carefully buttoned, and when he gets back to his flat he tosses the shirt into the back of his closet from whence it came. He’s not going to throw it away altogether, of course. It has sentimental value. Someday, maybe, he’ll dig it back up, if only just to look at.

For now, Jon does his bloody laundry.

#tma #the magnus archives #AspecArchives #aspecarchivesweek #gwyneth writes #it's ok jon i'm allergic to clothing stores too

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awhitehead17 · 4 years

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Whumptober 2020: Day 7 - I’ve got you

Prompt: Support

Summary: When Bruce pays Tim a visit, he finds that his son is burnt out. Being Tim’s father it’s his job to make sure Tim knows he has support no matter what.

Enjoy! :D

When Bruce entered Tim’s office he was fully expecting to see his son sat his desk either typing away on some sort of document or on the phone talking to someone.

He was paying Tim a visit because Bruce had brought some food for the two of them to share as a late lunch. According to Tam, Tim hasn’t yet eaten today and since Bruce had been wanting to see his son anyway, bringing food along with him seemed like a good idea.

Walking into Tim’s office Bruce immediately freezes at the unexpected sight of Tim with his head pillowed in his arms on top of his desk. He wasn’t on the phone or typing away like Bruce had predicted.

Closing the door behind him Bruce goes to the desk and places down the bag of food opposite Tim. “Tim? You okay?” He asks worriedly.

At his question his son bolts into an upright position and wildly looks around for an imminent threat. Bruce watches with concern as Tim seems to get himself together upon realising that there was no threat and how it was only Bruce in the room with him.

Tim lets out a long breath and runs a hand through his hair. He sends a smile at Bruce, one of which was forced. “Oh hey Bruce, what can I help you with?”

Bruce continues to watch with wearily, deciding to go along with it for the time being. He gestures to the bag on the desk, “I brought lunch.”

Tim’s gaze goes from Bruce to the bag. “Oh? Anything good?” Despite his apparent interest, he doesn’t make a move to look inside the bag.

“It’s Thai,” Bruce answers, “from that little place across the street. Thought we could share as I too have missed lunch today.”

Leaning back in his chair, Tim lets out a sigh. “Thanks Bruce I appreciate it but I don’t have time to eat right now, though I’ll save it for dinner this evening instead.”

That makes warning bells go off inside of Bruce’s head. If that was the case, then why did Tim look so wiped out and stressed? Why was his head down on the desk and not busily on the computer?

Deciding he’s played along long enough Bruce moves around to the other side of the desk so he was next to Tim and leans against the desk facing his son. “What’s going on Tim? I came in just now and you had your head on the desk and you startled when I called your name.”

Tim suddenly looks affronted and frowns up at him. Bruce simply raises his eyebrows in question. After a moment he looks around at Tim’s desk to find no books or papers were actually on the desk and his computer wasn’t even turned on. It was like Tim just came into the office and placed his head on the desk.

“Nothing’s going on Bruce. I’m fine, just a little tired.”

It seems to be a lot more than that. Tim looks exhausted, the dark rings around his eyes suggest he hasn’t been sleeping a lot, his hair his a wild mess meaning he’s ran his hands through it countless of times and the lack of work going on in that moment is suggesting that he’s just too tired to do it (or even care).

“Tim,” Bruce says softly, “talk to me. This isn’t like you. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah Bruce everything is fine, jeeze.” Tim sends him a smile but like that first one, this one is forced and doesn’t meet his eyes.

Bruce sighs. Looks like he’s going to have to go digging for information then. “How’s WE work? You don’t have anything out at the moment.”

“It’s good, it’s just a slow day today. All is going smoothly just working on a couple reports at the moment.”

“What about your night-time activities? Anything exciting happening?”

“It’s all quiet on that front. Nothing new or exciting has happened recently, it’s suspiciously too quiet.”

“What about your siblings? I think Dick was planning some kind of bonding activity on Saturday, has he spoken to you about that yet?”

“Yeah, Dick is planning for us to go to the zoo. I don’t particularly want to go but Cass is going so I might, she’ll make it bearable.”

“How’s Conner? I haven’t seen him for a while recently?”

When Tim doesn’t immediately answer, Bruce knows he’s hit the nail on the head. Something’s happened between him and Kon. That may explain why Tim’s been spending time at the Manor this week more than usual.

“Did you two have a fight?” He questions Tim gently.

It really does seem to be the answer to Tim’s mood because his son takes a shaky breath and wipes his rapidly blinking eyes as if he’s trying to stop himself from crying.

Suddenly Tim jumps to his feet which causes the chair he was using to go rolling backwards into the war not too far behind him. He looks at Bruce almost frantically, his tired eyes now open wide and his hands clenched at his sides.

Tim steps away from the desk, moving around it and starts pacing the room. Bruce turns with him and watches Tim as he travels back and forth.

“You want to know what’s going on Bruce? You want to know what’s going on!” Tim yells at him. “Everything I just said is a lie! I’m sick and tired of it all! I can’t deal with it for much longer! All the work that I have to do, all the responsibility that I’m carrying and what everyone is expecting of me, I am done with it.”

Tim stops his pacing and faces Bruce his hands making wild gestures as he lists off everything going on. “Board members are expecting four different reports, all due in the same week. I am going insane in trying to collect the data I need for them.

The Titan’s are driving me crazy because there isn’t anything to do except train, work on protocols and patrol. All they’re doing is whining about it like it’s my fault!

I am this close to killing my brothers Bruce. This close. Jason won’t stop pestering me for new weapon upgrades, I said to him that I’d work on them when I get the chance and I haven’t had the chance to. All Dick wants to do is cuddle and bond, like give a guy some space! And Damian, don’t even get me started on the brat!

As for Kon, where do I even begin? Yes he and I did have a fight. I have been spending time at the Manor to avoid him but I’m not apologizing until he does because it’s all his fault and the asshole won’t admit.

I am sick and tired of it all Bruce! I’m done, just done with everything.”

Tim finishes his ranting by collapsing on the sofa in the corner of the room with his head buried in his hands. Bruce’s heart feels heavy in his chest, he had no idea that Tim had been feeling like this. That all of this was even going on for his son.

He was burnt out and in need of a break.

Bruce goes to the sofa and settles down beside Tim, not yet touching him. “That certainly is a lot Tim. I’m sorry that you have all of that going on right now.” He comments evenly. His job, as Tim’s father, is make sure he knows he’s got his support no matter what.

“Right first thing, when are those reports due? I haven’t been able to keep track of them due to the contract meetings going on recently, which I should have been helping you out with so I’m sorry for that.”

“They’re due at the end of the month.” Tim mumbles from his hands.

“Okay, that's three weeks from now. What you’re going to do is give two of them up and hand one over to Tam to take care of and I’ll handle the other. Okay?” The only response Tim gives is a defeated humming sound. “That’s two less things going on for you.

As for your team if all they’re doing is whining then mute them and ignore their calls for a couple days, unless of an emergency of course. You need a break and that isn’t helping.

In the next day or so I’ll have a conversation with each of your brothers about giving you some breathing space. They shouldn’t be bombarding you like that, they’re all grown up enough to know better, even Damian knows the difference.

Now your relationship with Kon. Are you still together, are you taking a break for a week or two?”

“I don’t know Bruce!” Tim whines, still not looking up from his hands. “I stormed out of the house in rage and haven’t spoken to him since.”

“Tim, you know you’re going to have to talk to him soon right? Avoiding him isn’t the answer and is pretty immature. You’re better than that. Talking with one another will clear the air a lot quicker and then you both can make decisions on what would be best.”

“I know that. I just don’t want to.”

Bruce huffs in mild amusement, because of course that would be the case. “Well I can’t make you contact him but your problems will be over quicker if you do chat with him.”

Tim doesn’t answer to that, instead he finally lifts his head up and leans into Bruce. Bruce takes the motion in stride and wraps an arm around Tim in comfort, he even presses a kiss to his temple. “I love you bud and if it all builds up like this again then I want you to tell me so you don’t end up burning out and struggle to deal with everything. I’m here for you.”

Tim’s hums almost contently. “Yeah, thanks Bruce.” With a glance down Bruce sees Tim leaning heavily into him with his eyes closed. He smiles and allows Tim to stay there. He deserves the rest.

#Whumptober2020 #day seven #support #Tim Drake #bruce wayne #good dad bruce #break downs #yelling #hurt and comfort #supportive bruce #stressed tim #mentioned timkon #fanfiction #father and son

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phantomphangphucker · 3 years

Text

Ectober Day 29: Light + Week Orb/Reanimate - Exorcists Can’t Save Me Now Chap.2: Dolly Hearts

You know what’s happening here, but with a bonus of the creepy possessed doll trope.

Tucker sits on the floor, leaning his back against the doll, “I know this is some crazy cool stuff dude, but somehow I doubt Other-Danny can really appreciate this”.

Danny just rolls his eyes, he still does get a bit of a kick out of the nickname they gave It being ‘Other-Danny’; thank you Coraline and Sam’s love of Tim Burton. Least she wasn’t still trying to give It button eyes, though Danny’s got no idea where all the buttons kept disappearing to. He’s honestly genuinely suspiciously Dammy ate them or absorbed them or something. Magic was weird. Probably bugged his parents that he believed the whole ‘magic doll’ thing over the ‘ghosts are real’ thing. But Dammy literally grew and stuff, kinda hard to ignore that. He has yet to see a freaking ghost.

Sam shakes her old school camera, “just get over here you goof, time to look stupid for the camera”. Danny sticks his tongue out at her before posing. Which yeah, probably looks stupid.

Tucker watches Danny walk in the giant creation with a small smile, all this tech stuff was so cool! Though glancing sideways at feeling movement and feeling just slightly unnerved by Dammy actually moving Its head to be ‘looking’ right at the portal. Alright. That’s freaky. “Uh, Danny-dude? Other you is doin’ that paying attention to you thing”, wasn’t that supposed to be some death omen thingy?

Danny turns his head, “huh?”, genuinely feeling cautious but not getting to do shit about that at the sound of a click and static. Snapping his head back towards the back of the portal and seeing the green light there, “oh fu-”.

Tucker jerks to stand up, Sam hovering worriedly by the portal as a massive beam of green light flashes out of the thing. Both immediately clamping their hands over their ears at the sound of screaming. Dammy is also making some kind of static noise, somehow staying sitting upright. That was freaky enough to give them something other than the god awful sound to focus on.

Sam still manages to catch Danny? or what she thinks is him, when he? falls out. Tucker also moving to grasp the person-shaped black and white static, “D-Danny man?”. Both teens wincing at the sound? he? makes.

“We can’t, oh god, can’t understa-”, Tucker getting cut off by Dammy sparking all over with green electricity and shooting bolts of lightning at the static Danny. Both Sam and Tucker yelping and jumping back, having gotten zapped themselves in the process; electricity jumping over their fingers and forearms.

The two wince and rub at their fingers before watching more than a little wide-eyed at the electricity stuff jumping all over static Danny and looking as if it was tugging at him or something. Tucker blurting out, “I don’t know how aware you are dude! But I think Dammy’s trying to pull you in or something!”.

Sam looks to him, “do you, fuck, do you think he’s even aware what’s going on?”.

“Sam, I don’t even know what the Hell’s going on! And I’m pretty sure Danny just got fried to a crisp, so what the Hell do you think!”.

“Oh don’t you snap at me! I was just asking a damn question!”.

“My best friend probably just died! So I think I’m allowed to snap at whoever the Hell I want!”.

“Like Hell you are!”.

“Shut up!”.

“No!”, Sam doesn’t get to say more than that as static Danny seemingly snaps into Dammy. The two friends watching green rays of almost blinding light shoot out of the ‘eyes’ before dimming into two little green orbs of light inside the pitch black of the eye sockets and move around a bit before the doll lurches forward, grasps Its stomach, and the stitched line opens up like a mouth to immediately vomit up chunks of cotton and herbs. Sam blinks, “oh man, we so need to get the Fenton’s”. Tucker just nods slowly, as they both gulp and move closer to the doll.

Tucker putting a hand on It/his back, “Danny?”. The doll hacks a bunch, more bits of mess coming out, and nods faintly. So Tucker pats his back, “alright, okay”, looking to the side and whispering, “holy fucking shit”, glancing at Sam then back to Danny, “just get it all out of... your system, man”.

Danny makes a sound that’s kinda like someone rubbing two marshmallows together. Tucker swallows, “still can’t understand you, man”. While Sam comes around the other side and gives him a soothing arm rub, “do you think you can move?”. Oh Hell, they messed up bad.

They watch as he very jerkily puts a hand to the ground, moving to help him stand; which he’s also jerky and stiff about. Danny makes more of the marshmallow sounds as he leans against Tucker. Though Tucker’s positive Danny was saying something along the lines of ‘thanks’. Tucker’s just trying to not be freaked out by the soft plushie feel of Danny’s body. Sure he was used to Dammy being around, but that was just Danny’s kinda weird doll thing. Now It wasn’t just a doll thing. Was there even a Dammy anymore? Man this was so messed up.

The two friends watch and steady Danny as he cranes his? head around in a way that was closer to limp lolling. Them both feeling him stiffening when he catches his reflection in the far side mirror. Sam and Tucker following his line of sight, staring at the vibrate green glowing orbs reflecting off harsh enough to practically blackout the rest of the mirror. Both of them wincing at more marshmallow sounds, though it sounds more ‘alarmed’ this time.

Tucker gives him a small squeezes on the shoulder, “for the love of everything, please be able to learn to talk like a freaking person again”. Sam smacks him for that. But Danny makes something like a velcro sound that sounds close enough to a laugh.

Sam looks to him, more than a little thankful she’s well used to seeing the lipless hollow-socketed face, even if the green light ball things were unnerving, “do you want me to get your folks”, nodding her head at Tucker, “this idiot will probably raid the fridge instead”.

Danny doesn’t move for a bit before nodding slowly, making more marshmallow noises and stiffly grabbing his throat with one hand.

Tucker pushes Danny to sit down as Sam bolts up the stairs, Danny repeatedly making more noises while squeezing and poking his throat. Tucker grabbing his shoulder, making him jerkily look to him, before pulling him in and hugging him close, “you-fuck, you don’t know how bloody happy I am for Dammy right now. That you had, have, I don’t know, Other-Danny”, squeezing him a bit more, “fuck Danny”, wheezing a chuckle out, “so, I guess ghosts exist huh?”. Not surprised to get marshmallow in return, the tone’s softer and maybe worried? though so he pats him on the back and let’s go; wiping his face a bit with his arm as he goes.

Both turn their heads to the side at Maddie practically bolting down the stairs, Sam right behind. “You kids aren’t supposed to be down here unsupervised, you know this”.

Tucker stands up immediately, holding his palms out pacifyingly, “we know we know, it’s just the tech’s so cool and things weren’t working and we do know some lab safety and-”. Cutting himself off as Danny jerkily stands and wavers badly, Tucker moving to steady him.

Maddie blinks and stares at the moving doll, slowly looking progressively more horrified, “Danny?”.

The thread that makes up Its mouth moves up into a wobbly-looking nervous smile. The doll nods a little. She staggers over, grabbing Its-his? arm and pulling his? hand into hers. Staring at the skin-like fabric, the nailless fingers, the threads and seams, “oh Danny, what did you do”, and hugging him. Hugging the doll that housed him. He makes gurgling fuzzy sounds. Maddie letting go and stepping back a little to steady herself and give him some room, while Tucker gives a weak smile and nudges the doll's shoulder, “hey, that was closer to words this time”.

Danny looks to him and makes some sounds while doing something that vaguely resembles a scowl. Then looking to Sam as she walks over and hugs him too, “you’re such an idiot”.

“ɥ͜͜͝ɐ̡̡̨͘ǝ̸̷̧̨̢⅄̵͝”.

All three wince, Sam and Tucker moving to cover their ears a little. Tucker grumbling, “I’d prefer the fuzz and marshmallows over that”. Danny winces and practically smacks himself in the face while going to cover his ‘mouth’ with his hand.

Maddie whispers, “that was ghost speak”, shaking her head and moving to touch his throat gently, swallowing, “your.. dolls muscles and voice box is made of cotton and sugar string, you’ll have to learn how to use them”. Looking to her son's friends and noticing the odd burns on their fingertips, “what happened to your fingers?”, which instantly gets Danny’s attention too.

Tucker looks at his fingers, at least it didn’t hurt, and looks back to her, “oh uh, we were kinda close to Danny when Dammy went all crazy light show and, like, sucked Danny in with lightning or something”. Maddie looks to Danny curiously. Danny just starts doing something akin to flailing and looking back and forth from his friends, gargling a bunch.

“Hey woah man, it’s not your fault. Heck! You didn’t even do it! And Dammy just did what It was literally designed to do“.

Sam nods and squeezes his arm, “yeah, I’m just glad you’re in this thing”.

Maddie looks around, noticing the mess on the ground and blinking, “did... did you throw up?”. Danny nods and looks to be trying to quirk an eyebrow but it’s not really working. But that... that wasn’t supposed to happen. So why? The only thing she can think of is that his friends might have interfered with something.

Tucker and Sam frown when Maddie rushes off to her computer systems, Sam snapping, “is that bad? Is Dammy not functioning right? It’s not rejecting Danny or something is It?”. Tucker just nods worriedly. Danny points at his friends then smacks a palm into his chest, his chest felt weird; especially if he was supposed to be a ghost... dead.

Maddie nabs up a scanner and rushes back to Danny’s doll, putting it to his ‘eyes’, “sorry sweetie, your eyes are the only part of your... ghost that’s accessible”.

Tucker blinks, “wait, those glowy light ball things are actually eyes”. Danny grunts, probably something along the lines of saying ‘obviously’ or maybe being offended.

“Well technically it’s a culmination of ectoplasm but a ghosts eyes always have the highest concentration outside of their Cores. So eyes yes, but also no”, shaking her head and pulling the scanner back. Blinking down, a bit dumbfounded, at the results, “you... Danny, you’re... still human”.

Sam and Tucker both immediately blurt, “WHAT!”, and Danny makes a high-pitched grating sound, then taps at the left of his chest.

Maddie squints but moves to put her hand over the spot, going a little slacked jawed, “there... you have a heartbeat”. Danny nods rapidly but stiffly. Maddie shakes herself off and looks down to the scanner while Sam and Tucker both grapple over his chest, obviously wanting to make sure for themselves.

Maddie looks from the reading to the two teens and back again. Those two, they always were her boy’s miracle friends. The only ones unphased by his oddness and accepting of the doll. Who would all go to weird lengths to help and protect and support each other; apparently more so than she ever thought even possible. Once again looking to the teens, “you two, it’s because of you two”.

The two look to her in obvious confusion.

“What do you mean by that?”.

“Huh? But we didn’t really... do anything”.

Maddie shakes her head, turning the device around to face them, “when you got zapped. The ecto-electricity picked up bits of your DNA and took it with it. Human DNA”.

Danny looks back and forth between his two friends, looking a bit like he’s gonna cry, not that he actually can though, and hugs both of them around the neck; pulling them into him. His arms bend in a circle rather than at the elbow though Sam and Tucker don’t really care and smile up against his doll cheeks, but pause, turning their heads towards Maddie, “wait, does that mean we’re related now?!?”.

Maddie lets herself smile almost meanly at that, though with a level of relief underneath, “just a little bit”. Danny makes a tearing sound not unlike Velcro, the two other teens rolling there eyes as he lets go of their necks; arms falling to his sides with soft thwaps.

Maddie tears her eyes away, this, Danny being fabric and the ecto-energy contained inside that bled out the eye sockets, was going to take some getting used to. Her looking over their machinery and glancing back at the cotton pile on the ground. He had a heartbeat so maybe... Moving to set up one of their body scanners while Danny makes some kind of puff sounds.

Sam and Tucker couldn’t care less what Mrs. Fenton was up to, far more focused on trying to help Danny with the whole ‘walking on legs that don’t have bones or fleshy muscles’ thing. As they sort of guide him to walk around, all three watching the legs wobble and bend at odd angles; he does seem to be getting better pretty quickly though, even if he seems annoyed.

Tucker chuckles after a bit, deciding making light of this crap was the best idea and the one his goddamn sticking to, “you know, I always wanted a little brother”, and looks down at him slightly emphasising his slightly taller height. Danny, predictably, shoves him.

Sam rolls her eyes, “don’t expect to get any of Nana’s inheritance though”. Danny and Tucker exchange confused looks, though it’s kinda hard to tell on Danny. Tucker asking with Danny pointing at him, “huh?”.

Sam grumbles, “forget it, doesn’t mean anything”. And once more getting blocked from saying anything more by Maddie.

“Alright, So I think I might have an idea why and how you threw up”. Which gets all three teens' attention, hoping that something really wasn’t wrong with the doll. Both friends stepping to the side a bit to let her use the invention, whatever it was. Watching it shoot out a wide beam of light and move over the doll's entire body. Danny tilting his head at a little too sharp of an angle after; the unblinking orbs making the effect seem wide-eyed and both more child-like and a little creepy.

Maddie blinks at the result, even more dumbfounded but also happy, ridiculously happy. Looking back to Danny and not being able to help smiling some; ignoring the totally unnatural head tilt, “my guess was right”, turning the screen to the teens, “you threw up to make room for organs. Heart, lungs, stomach; it’s all there”.

Sam sounds more than a little morbidly curious, “so there are fleshy bloody organs in there? How in the?”, looking to Danny, “glad you still have that stuff though”.

Tucker chimes in with, “especially a stomach! How else are we supposed to have burger eating contests?”. Sam scowls at him, but is honestly glad for the normalcy.

Maddie tilts her head a little and frowns slightly, “no they’re probably made of sugar, fondant, and maybe some blood cells. Some of the dolls spices too maybe. Cotton for lungs? The density is right”. She would like to actually know but... no, not happening. Stuffing the completed doll and stitching It shut when they made It had been unpleasant enough. And Danny probably wouldn’t enjoy that.

Tucker grabs and bends the doll's arm in a circle, “and his bones?”. Danny grunting at him for that and yanking his arm away, guy could have at least asked before treating him like a twist tie; though yeah, what the Hell.

Maddie glances back to the device's screen, “I think there’s sugar string trying to be bones”, looking back to Danny, “but obviously that’s not really working. There’s nothing really solid enough in the doll to be bones, sorry sweetie”.

Danny’s string mouth contorts a bunch and no one can really tell what kind of facial expression he’s trying to make, “p҉͟ᴉ͏d҉̷̧͢n̡͜͝ʇ̴͝S͘͢ ̸̷˙̸s͘͢ǝ̷̧̨u̸o̷͢q̸̨̧͜͞ ̸̢̛̛͟o̷̢҉͡u̸͢͠ ̶͡s͠͠u̷̧͠ɐ͘͜͡͏ƃ̷̛ɹ̛͟o̕͏̨҉”. Then covering his ‘mouth’ again when everyone winces. “Sree”. Then grinning a bit stupidly at getting an actual English sounding sound out. Everyone else grinning at him a bit too.

Maddie gives an understanding nod, “your actual body is energy, a... ghost, it makes sense their language would be a default for you”, sighing a little, “if it wasn’t for your doll that’s probably all you could speak”.

Tucker butts in a bit awkwardly, “he was just making static sounds before. So I think he still took some time to learn or whatever”. Sam rolls her eyes, “he was head to toe static before, moron”.

Maddie scrunches her eyebrows, studying Danny, “maybe that’s just how ghosts look before they stabilise. The dolls are supposed to house the person before they stabilise after all”, squinting a little, “do you think you can stick out your tongue?”, the doll didn’t have one, so that was another area where the ghost inside was supposed to be able to be seen.

Danny gives a stiff shrug, arms flapping around limply a bit from the motion, and sticks out his tongue with absolutely no idea where this is going.

Sam and Tucker snort and chuckle a little at the glowing green forked thing, with bits of static or electricity spiking off it here and there but it was mostly solid.

Maddie nods, also noting the sharp teeth the doll had sprouted, at least those weren’t glowing. Just a little too white though. Just enough to feel wrong. Seemed slightly transparent too, especially at the tips. “I’d say you’re stabilised now-”.

Sam cuts her off, grabbing Danny’s face and prodding the teeth, “woah! You’ve got fangs! Damnit, now I’m jealous”. Tucker starts laughing while Danny bats away her hands, joining in with Velcro sounds after a bit though.

Tucker pats him, “and nice snake tongue, dude”. Danny makes more alarmed marshmallow sounds before sticking his tongue back out and grabbing at it. It feels like he’s going wide-eyed, but without eyelids that’s kind of hard to tell; the green orbs do get a bit wider though.

Maddie gives him what she hopes is a reassuring smile, “ghost usually only resemble humans, sweetie. There’s bound to be changes. Just maybe don’t stick your tongue out at people”.

Tucker immediately blurts out, “or do! Bet than would totally freak Dash out!”. Maddie gives a fond sigh at that, though hoping he doesn’t actually do that. Part of the point of the dolls was so the ghost wouldn’t start terrorising people, by force or by choice.

Danny covers his mouth, effectively conveying that he would not be doing that. Or at least not till he was at least comfortable with all of... this. Being able to feel his heart beating seriously helped, though actually being able to feel it brushing up against soft cotton was supremely weird. And the staticky tingling running around everywhere was very distracting. Though that might be the only reason he’s not having a total meltdown right now. He had literally died, stoled his friends' DNA, and hijacked Dammy’s ‘body’; which fine, was kinda the point and meant Dammy was serving Its purpose but still.

Maddie pats Danny’s head, making a point to not be weirded out by the stringy texture of his hair, “maybe I should make us some food, you should be able to eat it. Also, you are not going to school tomorrow or for the next few days”.

All three teens go wide-eyed -or wide-orbed in Danny’s case- realising the slight issue. Sam and Tucker glancing at Danny. His ‘skin’ was noticeably fabric, the string ‘mouth’ absolutely couldn’t pass as even kinda normal, his ‘eyes’ were an obvious issue, people might not notice the lack of fingernails and same with the shark teeth, and then there was the boneless problem, oh and he couldn’t speak. Danny just jerkily rubs at his neck before pointing upstairs and making marshmallow noises.

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gooddadstan · 4 years

Photo

The first story in my Batman Bingo 2020 writing! For the card above, Red is completed, and blue is requested. Another huge thanks to @batmanbingo2020 for making it! Feel free to ask for a prompt!

1.Sleep Deprivation

Arkham breakouts were bad. Rogue level breakouts were really bad. Gotham knew it, the bats knew it, even the Justice League knew it, if just from the strict instructions to not call on any bat within three days of returning all escapees to their cells. With a necessary exception of world ending circumstances, no matter how much everyone hated it.

Unfortunately, these were world ending circumstances.

According to the clock on the Batcomputer, it hadn’t even been an hour since they started the Do Not Call countdown in the Watchtower’s systems. Far too early for the emergency transmission to send alarms blaring through every bat-associated device the house.

Clicking the button for the video call to patch through, they’re met with a disheveled looking Flash with a grim expression on his face, no other leaguers in sight.

“What.” The growl had been forming during the small loading period, but the Flash didn’t waver in his stance.

When he speaks just a second later, it’s sped up as much as he trusts the bats to understand. “Batman, the League needs your help. Send all available backup, you’ll meet Justice League Dark at the site..” He rattles off a set of coordinates and is gone again, the trail of his image heading off in the direction of the Zetas.

Batman scans over his children, the wounds both new and days old being nursed in the medbay and the bodies flopped onto any surface they deemed comfortable enough to sleep on. More than half of them were just lying down on the floor, which, okay, but they’re children of a billionaire, they’re supposed to have standards. Apparently these standards don’t involve not sleeping on the floor in full vigilante gear.

Tim, looking up from his designated spot on the next chair over, makes very pointed eye contact with Bruce. A simple nod is all that meets him. Already mourning the loss of a relaxing afternoon filled with cartoons, sleep, and lots of food, he pulls up the League’s initial reports on the issue. The burning behind his eyes was a later Tim problem. There’s not much there, but he sets to work as Bruce rises to call the others to action.

~^~^~

Maybe Dick going on this world-saving escapade was a bad idea. Yeah, he kicked some ass, and yeah, he was the one to actually get his hands on the device that let the world-enders of the week wreak their havoc, but he kinda feels like his legs are going to drop out from under him and it may or may not have been four days since he last slept. Sue him, it was a rogue-level Arkham breakout. Measures had to be taken. Caffeine pill measures.

And if those measures ended up with him more spaced out than present during the after-victory conversation with the Titans, well, it’s not like he hasn’t done worse to himself in the past.

And no, bad Dick, that’s neither a healthy nor productive way of thinking. He forces himself to focus back in on what Wally was saying, only to see that the entire circle he was in was looking at him with various concerned expressions. Wally had placed a hand on his shoulder. Huh. Dick didn’t remember that happening.

“Dude, are you okay? We’ve been calling your name for at least a minute and a half.” He doesn’t even bother hiding the concern in his voice, which, fine, it is Wally, but Dick’s torn between wanting to yell at him for putting himself in unnecessary danger during the fight, and just wanting to go eat enough carbs to kill an elephant. “How long have you even been awake?” Oh, he must have given up on reality for another second there, because Wally decided it was time to talk again. This time, Dick was pretty sure he was collected within himself enough to answer. Maybe.

Pulling one hand up to rub at his face and almost, almost hitting his own nose in the process, Dick finally opens his mouth. “Since the breakout started. So… a hundred n’ twenty-six hours? Somethin’ like that.”

Wally closes his eyes extremely pointedly, and opens them to make direct eye contact with both hands on Dick’s shoulders. “Dick. You are going to go home, and you are going to sleep. Do you need someone to be there for you?” The caring is familiar, but it still sends warmth through his chest after all these years.

“Yeah. To the manor?”

“To the manor.” In less than a second, Wally’s arms are around him in a familiar hold, and he’s being hoisted up into the air. By the time Wally sets him down on his bed in the manor, he’s asleep.

~^~^~

“Tim.” Kon takes one look at Tim after they finish the battle, and immediately goes from grinning manically as he punches villains into the ground to hovering in front of Tim and calling Cassie and Bart.

“Yes, Kon?” He ignores the fact that he can feel the concern and disappointment in Kon’s gaze, and focuses on the wrist computer projection of the rapidly lowering energy readings in the area.

“Tim.” And oh, this was going to be an Actual Conversation now. Tim looks up from his projection, unsurprised that Cassie and Bart are both already there. When Kon’s satisfied by the level of eye contact, he speaks again. “Tim, did you sleep at all during that breakout?”

Tim spends less than a second debating with himself before shrugging. “I got knocked out at one point. Killer Croc doesn’t exactly pull his punches.” Watching the looks going his way grow slightly darker wasn’t foreign, at this point, but the curl of uncomfortability in his gut could probably be blamed on exhaustion at this point.

“Tim. Buddy. That started four days ago. Were you checked for a concussion?” It’s Bart that speaks this time, having appeared behind Tim’s back to place one hand down and try to guide him towards some rubble that looks vaguely chair-height. Tim doesn’t move.

A small sigh escaping his lips, Tim shakes his head and stands his ground. “Yes, it did start four days ago, and no, I’m not concussed. World ending circumstances override our protocol. I’m fine.”

Tim’s pretty sure if any of Young Justice had a say in it, he’d be at home asleep already, because even he could admit (to himself) that maybe he’s not entirely fine. Unfortunately for them, and fortunately for Tim, he thinks, Tim is technically their leader so they can’t kick him out. Probably. He notes to check if they can kick him out for lack of self care and moves on.

The next thing he knows, he’s yelping and scrambling for handholds as the ground disappears beneath him. “What the shit, Kon?” From his awkward half-dangling place, he can see Cassie fly up to meet them, Bart in her arms.

He’s shifted to a slightly more secure hold, but it’s painfully clear that if he makes a move to leave Kon’s arms or if Kon drops him, he would be in for a decidedly Not Fun Time. So they’re trying to coerce him. Threaten him? Maybe both.

“Dude, you’re even glitching. Take a nap or something.” Bart shouts at him from maybe five feet away, which is unnecessary, but Tim appreciates the effort to account for possible wind. If only there was any more than none.

“Seriously, you’re spacey and clearly exhausted. You didn’t note anything from those readings until the third rotation, you’re not exactly keeping up with the field work. I could even take you over to the farm or your apartment or something if you don’t want to go back to the cave. But find somewhere to go pass out.” And okay, fine, Kon might be right about the readings. But he can’t just leave-

“Nobody’ll fault you for leaving dude.” Tim immediately curses Bart and his uncanny ability to understand Tim’s anxieties.

“And if anyone does, then we’ll make sure to have a little chat.” He can almost hear the sound of Cassie’s fist hitting her palm, and as much as he wants to accept…

“Thanks guys, really, but I need to keep up on my own responsibilities.” His tone his regretful, and he really can’t leave the rest of his family without warning.

“Tim, you’re our responsibility, so go home and take a nap.” And Kon is not allowed to make sense when Tim’s this tired anymore. But, ever the adamant one, Tim opens his mouth to speak again. “I-“

“Tim, go home.” It’s simultaneous, and manages to effectively shut Tim up.

Heaving one last exasperated sigh, Tim accepts. “Fine, just drop me off at the nearest Zeta.”

Kon gets that manic grin on his face again, and Tim’s internal monologue consists entirely of ‘oh no’. “I can do you one better.” Tim is going to get murdered. “Gotham, here we come!”

~^~^~

Bruce was still fighting as his GPS reported family leaving the area. He felt like his limbs were moving like slugs, his eyes were burning with every blink, and every little noise sent waves of rage through his very soul, but he was still fighting. The last of today’s havoc wreakers were still raring to go, and where evil stands, the Justice League rises to meet them.

As one final punch sends his last opponent to the containment area, Bruce lets his shoulders slump. The past few days have been unbearably long, and he just wants to sleep for a week wherever he can find a horizontal surface. His kids might have the right idea about the floor, at this point. His wounds are throbbing, he can feel his mind succumbing to exhaustion, and he just wants to rest. For once. He should extend the protocol before the next breakout.

Clark touches down next to him, and he immediately braces for a complaint about something, even though this is Clark, and he’s pretty sure Clark hasn’t complained about a thing in his life. Or maybe he just really needs to sleep. Despite all his training, it’s hard to tell.

“Batman. I think it’s time you took a rest. You’ve had some long days.” There’s a kind pressing in his voice.

Bruce suppresses a growl, though he’s sure Clark can hear what escapes from his throat. “I can continue.”

“But you don’t need to. Batman, the kids you brought are already gone, you’re the only one here. Hood and Robin are home with broken bones, you’re needed there more than here.” He smiles, and lowers his voice. “Go home, Bruce, rest up. We’ll see you for the meeting next week.” He takes off, nothing but a gust of wind that aggravates the burning sensation in his eyes.

An hour later, Bruce is pulling himself out of the Batmobile and shedding his suit. As he turns the corner to the main area of the cave, he’s met with his children, huddled together asleep and surrounded by blankets and pillows. A small smile creeps onto his face, the warmth of seeing each of his children here, safe, and soon to be better rested. He moves to go past them, move up to the master bedroom and get some rest himself.

A hand catches at his wrist, pulling down. He glances to the source, and can’t help but worry when he’s met with Jason, eyes still closed and broken leg elevated on a stack of floor pillows. “Br’ce.”

“Yeah, Jaylad?” The nickname wouldn’t fly most times, but his own exhaustion made it slip by.

“Stay, w’ll you?” He tugs again, harder this time, and Bruce lets himself be pulled down to sit on his heels. Dick almost immediately shimmies over to throw himself over Bruce’s legs, and he supposes that’s that. He lightly lifts Dick to lay his legs down flat. Cass’ arm to pull his shoulders down onto the blanket nest isn’t unexpected, and it’s not a surprise when the rest of his children stir enough to drape themselves over one body part of his or another.

As Alfred stands on the foot of the stairs, a dish towel drying his hands, he can’t help but smile. Maybe this way his wards would actually rest for once.

#batman #batfam #tim drake #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman bingo 2020 #sleep deprivation #blanket nests #this is fluff #basically just fluff

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doppeldonger · 7 years

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The Scarlet Letter

The first time he sees her, he’s just released from the doppelgänger program to be moonshot to Elpis, his clothes fresh and his face new and unused. He acts the “handsome asshole with bravado” part quite well, if he says so himself; the swagger looks just right on his fit figure, hands casually in his pockets like he owns the damn place.

But then he sees her.

The colorful lights of the bar caress her pale skin, bringing out her perfect curves; he can’t take his eyes off of the bar owner, her merciless chest, the tiny dress hugging her body, and that voluptuous smile gracing her gorgeous face.

He should be saying something, cracking a joke about how she’s Jack’s ex- or hell, complimenting her, even… But he’s simply speechless, so it’s no surprise that the only sound leaving him is a strangled gurgle. Nisha throws a glare in his way, tipping her hat low and approaching the bar; she rolls her eyes at Timothy’s dumbstruck expression and shares an amused look with Wilhelm before she dives in, peppering Moxxi’s ego with insults. Timothy shakes himself, shedding his reverie like one wakes up from sleep and he interrupts the kinky cowgirl, “Fuck off, Nish! If you’ll get nasty like that, go get yourself a drink and shut up.”

The way Nisha is looking at him speaks a thousand words, like “I’d snap your fucking head if I wasn’t so amused by your show of bravery.” or “You’re lucky you’re Jack’s doppelgänger or I would’ve torn your face off by now.”

The way Moxxi is looking at him, though… Her electric blue eyes shine with amusement and appreciation alike, the angry snarl directed towards Nisha now changed into a pleased little smile, reserved just for him. Looking at the bar owner, Timothy can feel his face burn up in crimson.

Gosh, he’s so embarrassed.

The second time he sees her, the mood is much darker although the scenery is the same. The so-called betrayal of Moxxi, Lilith and Roland left behind long ago, the Vault of the Sentinel has been raided dry; Jack has received the accursed visions, engraved every little detail in the ever-scheming brain of his and dethroned Tassiter just a week ago. Claptrap’s done for, Athena has quit, a very-bored Aurelia following her not much later. That leaves Nisha, Wilhelm and Timothy to deal with Jack’s crazed shenanigans. Juuuuust lovely.

Wilhelm makes his way to the R&D department to let them work on his future robotic enhancements and Jack departs with Nisha for Pandora to take over Lynchwood.

Not before he leaves a gift for Timothy, however.

Thinking back, Timothy is certain that “gift” is for Jack rather than for him; after all, the doppelgänger was the one left screaming in pain on the floor with Jack looming over him with a manic smile on his lips and a brand in his hands.

The moment Jack abandons Timothy to have fun (A.K.A. wreak havoc on Pandora) with his new girlfriend, the doppelgänger abandons Helios to wander around Elpis aimlessly until his feet drag him into Moxxi’s bar, his clothes crumpled, the scar on his face new and hurting like a bitch.

Pulling his hood lower onto his offensive face, he makes his way to the bar and the absence of his usual polite-and-cheerful attitude immediately alarms the bar owner. She can’t look past the shadows of his hood, and it takes a good deal of coaxing to get his head up just an inch.

And then she sees it.

They end up in the backroom Moxxi uses as her lodging whenever she’s running the bar on Elpis, the woman shaking with fury as opposed to Timothy’s cold nonchalance and resignation. She demands answers, just like he expected her to do, barely able to contain her frustrated screams at Jack’s boldness. He’s just silent, sitting on the edge of Moxxi’s bed sized just for a queen like her, eyes looking at a spot in the wall and unseeing.

She eventually sits down next to him, rubbing soothing circles on his back and tries to get him to do something, to talk, to scream, to cry… she just wants him to stop bottling up his emotions so.

But he feels so, so embarrassed.

“It’s not your fault.” she murmurs, carding her long thin fingers through his disheveled hair and thinking how easily he revels in the gesture Jack hated so much. He was supposed to be a face like Jack’s and nothing more, but he’s a completely different human being under all the plastic surgery and training; she falls for him a little just by watching him there, the deep bass of the club providing background noise, albeit muffled. “You’re a wonderful person, and you deserve none of this.”

His head snaps up and he looks at her disbelievingly, “I do! I asked for all this when I signed up for this shit!”

She can understand how he feels, “You couldn’t have known. Don’t be embarrassed.” She knows, she knows, and that makes him feel all the worse. He ends up sliding off the bed onto the floor nevertheless, his aching face buried in her lap in hopes for alleviation her gentle hands could provide.

He leaves her and her bar after a while, eyes puffed up and sniffing, his hood back on his head as he heads out. He’ll have to return to Helios eventually, he has a tight schedule since Jack will be back soon, but he still has some time to clear his head. She knows it too, so Moxxi sees him off with a sad smile and a friendly advice, “Hubris is the downfall of a person, but humility is no better.”

The third time is the charm, and they see each other in conditions that are much different when they meet all these years later. Timothy is working for the CEO of the biggest company around, but it’s not Hyperion anymore. The guy who goes by the humble name of Rhys is a much better boss than Jack could even dream of becoming; and he knows how much Timothy has suffered in the hands of the said man, having housed him in his head in the form of a distorted AI. So it’s no surprise when Rhys sends Timothy to Moxxi with an offer: Come open up shop in Serenity, the city we built over Opportunity as Atlas, for a better future. Flashy, just like the young CEO himself, if you ask Timothy, but both men know it’ll make Moxxi interested; they’re asking her for her bar and her mechanic excellency alike, after all.

So, here he stands, in the middle of Moxxi’s bar up on Sanctuary with Brick and Mordecai sent to accompany him by Lilith; they still don’t trust him after all these years, and he can’t really blame them. He doesn’t mind their presence either, it keeps the curious residents of the floating city away from him; no questions about his face or voice dared to be asked. When he sees her, he’s as stupefied as he was all those years ago on Elpis; his clothes worn off from age and violence just like his face, but Moxxi seems unchanged as opposed to him with her lovely purple dress worshipping her curves and with her electric blue eyes.

She seems surprised to see him, because of all the years they remained apart without communication or because he’s brave enough to set foot in Lilith’s city, he does not know. He bets on both as he settles in a bar chair, the other vault hunters sitting on either side of him like menacing bouncers (who’s protecting who, and from whom at this point? He just doesn’t know). He orders a drink he knows he won’t touch, he’s not really into alcohol (Jack called him “a pansy” along with many other insulting slurs in the past for it); plus, the sight in front of him and the mission he’s on are much more interesting to him.

“Hey.” he greets her, still feeling a little tongue-tied after all these years. He gives her a genuine smile and offers his hands to her across the counter. Her surprise morphs into joy and she leans to put her hands in his, his order long forgotten. Brick and Mordecai make gagging sounds (especially Mordecai, glaring at him all the while he makes sure how much he hates the scene he’s witnessing. Right, Moxxi’s exes.), but Timothy and Moxxi simply end up giggling at the reaction.

She smiles at him and he can feel his soul being cleansed of his sins with that gesture alone. “It’s been so long.” she whispers and he nods, “What brings you here, Tim?”

“An offer, actually.” Moxxi raises a curious eyebrow and lets out an interested hum. “I work for Atlas now, and the CEO himself has a proposal. Gosh, don’t look at me like that, Moxxi; unlike the last one, this one isn’t a narcissistic asshole with a high killstreak.” That gets a laugh out of the three of them and Timothy counts that as a win. “He wants you to set up a bar in Serenity, he thinks it’ll be a good way to draw people to the city. If you’re interested in an Atlas city, it can’t be bad, right?” He smiles at her, quirking an eyebrow. “He also wants you to open a shop that’s similar to uh…” he coughs, embarrassed, “To Scooter’s.” The hands in his grasp tense for a moment, a look passing Moxxi’s eyes. “Rhys knew Scooter, says he was one helluva guy, talented and fun and all that.” He gives Moxxi’s hands an encouraging squeeze and the bar owner graces him with a proud smile.

“That’s Scooter, alright, that’s my son.” she replies, head held high and not a tear shed. She’s a strong woman, and Timothy knows he’s fallen hard for her yet again. She relaxes, looking into Timothy’s eyes, “That’s what your CEO wants. What do you want?”

The ex-doppelgänger smiles at her with a loving expression, “I just want you to be happy.” (“Booooooooooriiiiiiiing!” Brick moans in the background.)

But Moxxi gives him a matching smile, and he’s over the moon, “How about… We talk about this over dinner?”

Timothy sputters, along with the other vault hunters, “D-dinner?” Ah, there he is, the shy, polite guy she met all those years ago. She chuckles, “A big offer like that can’t be discussed over alcohol, can it? Plus, I really, really missed you.”

That deep, sultry tone, that voluptuous smile he came to associate with her, those electric blue eyes darkening with promises not said aloud… That does it for him, and he ends up feeling embarrassed once again, crimson dusting his cheeks like it did the moment they met all those years ago. “I-“ he clears his throat, ‘cause wow, it’s getting hot in here and his throat is perched, “I’d love that, Moxxi.”

Two weeks later, Moxxi sets up two shops in Serenity, enrapturing the residents easily with her bar and mechanic shop alike. She works awfully close to apartment complex Timothy resides in, but nobody makes a mention of it.

And if she ends up unofficially moving in with him eventually, sharing his food, his shower, his bed and his love, none of them is complaining.

This request is great and you’re great, @torrarina!

#borderlands #timothy lawrence #mad moxxi #borderlands 2 #tales from the borderlands #Rhys the Company man #nisha the lawbringer #Wilhelm The Enforcer #handsome jack #mordecai the hunter #brick as himself #dongart #fanfic

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scarletwelly-boots · 6 years

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Books Read 2017

I read 35 books this year. I'm about halfway done with #36, so I might make a smaller post later if I finish it before the New Year. I will also make a follow-up with the top ten so you don't need to read this whole thing. This post will briefly review each book (and damn I slacked this year; last year I got through 39 books).

As last year, each entry will include the title, author, and the entry of this year's reading challenge that it fell under.

1. All the King’s Men, by Nora Sakavic (A book that’s been on your TBR list for way too long). This is book three of the All for the Game trilogy, and holy shit you have to read this. It’s the best book in the trilogy. It is a series about a college sports team who play a made up sport called Exy, which is basically a more violent version of lacrosse. I’m not a huge sports fan, but the way she writes Exy matches had me on the edge of my seat. The team is made up of all “at-risk” students, the main character being a kid on the run from his mob boss dad. Trigger warning for the series for violence, sexual assault/rape, abuse, drug use, I may be missing some things. It was so good though.

2. Chopsticks, by Jessica Anthony (A book of letters). This book was recommended to me by a friend, and I kind of cheated on including this for this part of the challenge. It’s not entirely epistolary. It’s more mixed media. The story is told through pictures, letters, newspaper articles, notes, etc. It was good. It’s about a girl who’s basically this piano prodigy who meets a boy and falls in love.

3. East, by Edith Patton (an audio book). This year was going to be the year I reread books I haven’t read since junior high, but I kind of fell through on that, so I think this might be the only one I actually read. It’s a retelling of the Scandinavian fairy tale East of the Sun and West of the Moon, which in turn is basically a version of Beauty and the Beast. I was obsessed with Beauty and the Beast retellings (and fairy tale retellings in general) when I was fourteen. The book certainly holds up over time. I definitely recommend it.

4. Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe, by Benjamin Alire Saenz (a book by a person of color). Guys, everything you have heard about this book is true. It is so cute, and beautifully written. Two very different boys meet at a swimming pool when they are fifteen, and almost immediately become inseparable best friends. Also, if you can, the audiobook is surprisingly cheap on Amazon and read by el amor de mi vida, Lin-Manuel Miranda, so the book has that going for it too. 11/10 would recommend.

5. The Summer Palace, by CS Pacat (a book with one of the four seasons in the title). This is a short story in the Captive Prince series, and while it is absolutely adorable and so sunny, you need to read the trilogy to understand and appreciate it. It’s so sweet, with Laurent and Damen finally allowed to get to know each other and explore their personalities without the immediate threat of death hanging over them. Definitely recommended, but only after you read the trilogy, which I also obviously recommend.

6. The Course of Irish History, by TW Moody &co (a book with multiple authors). This is like 800-page textbook-grade Irish history, from the Ancient Celts to the Celtic Tiger economy in the 2000s. It is the leading book for Irish History courses, as I understand it. Guys. I loved this book. It took me forever to read, but I love Irish history books. It’s almost the only nonfiction I can sit through. Will you like it? Probably not. Do I recommend it anyway? Absolutely.

7. Wicked, by Gregory Maguire (a book with a cat on the cover). Might’ve cheated on this entry too. Okay, listen. I have zero interest in reading the other books in the series and I’m sorry, but the musical was ten times better. However, there are several things about this book that I love. (And I read this in January so how accurate my memories are is questionable.) Elphaba is absolutely bi/pan in this and you cannot convince me otherwise. There are two munchkins who aren’t in the musical but who are absolutely gay as the Fourth of July. I’m pretty sure I remember someone who could be read as trans. This book was very queer. I just have no attachment to the characters that I know will be in the other books. If you want to read it, I’d recommend it. If you have the opportunity to see the musical instead, go with that option even if it’s the more expensive choice.

8. Fence, vol. 1, by CS Pacat (a book by an author who uses a pseudonym): CS Pacat is back, this time with a modern sports comic about fencing. This is a literal comic book guys, so it was really short, but vol. 2 is out soon so it’s okay. I liked it. I like fencing and CS Pacat, so I enjoyed it. Too short, but I know that’s how comics work. Yeah, go read it and support comics.

9. The Raven King, by Nora Sakavic (a bestseller from a genre you don’t normally read). “This was a bestseller?” Yeah, okay, so I cheated a lot this year. It should have been a best seller. This is book two in the All for the Game series. I already explained this series above, but guys read it, it’s so good!

10. Turtles All the Way Down, by John Green (a book by or about someone who has a disability). Yay, John Green wrote another book! Yep, it’s a Green book all right. But it was really, really good. Yes, this is coming from someone whose favorite book is still The Fault in Our Stars, but listen. The main character has anxiety like crazy, and Green, having anxiety himself, writes it so well. Almost too well; the character’s anxiety was starting to give me anxiety. I loved it. Read this book.

11. A Walk in the Woods, by Bill Bryson (A book involving travel), this is a classic. Bryson goes to hike the Appalachian Trail, which is very very long. He takes along his somewhat stupid friend from home. Another nonfiction book, but it was good and had no Ireland at all in it. It was really funny, too. I recommend the audiobook, because it’s really fast to get through, but good.

12. The Immortal Irishman, by Timothy Egan (a book with a subtitle). I know, but it’s got a subtitle actually but I just can’t remember what it is. Guys, I know it’s Irish history again. This book is whole leagues above The Course of Irish History. It’s not a textbook, and doesn’t read like one. It’s a biography on Thomas Francis Meagher, a revolutionary in Famine-decimated Ireland trying to free his dying and oppressed country from the English. It doesn’t go well. He’s imprisoned and sentenced to death. But instead of dying, he is transported to the Penal Colony in Australia, where he lives and works to free Australia from Britain’s clutches as well, before he escapes to the United States just in time to be a general in the Civil War. It’s really good.

13. Weird Ireland, assorted authors (a book that’s published in 2017). A very small, independently published book about paranormal, supernatural, and extra-terrestrial sightings in Ireland. It was okay. I finished it in two hours. I knew everything that was in it, and some of it they even got wrong. Even if you’re crazy-obsessed with Ireland like me, you can skip this one.

14. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, the movie script, by JK Rowling (a book involving a mythical creature). Did you see the movie? Then you’re good, you don’t need to read the script. Bye.

15. Howl’s Moving Castle, by Diana Wynne Jones (a book you’ve read before than never fails to make you smile). Did I say TFiOS is my favorite book? Sorry, I meant this one. Did you see the movie? Don’t care, book’s better, go read it. This may be my most frequently read book on my shelf. It’s sooo good!

16. Teacher Man, by Frank McCourt (a book with career advice): I hate to say this about a fellow Irishman and a celebrated author, but Frank McCourt? not a great guy. The book was good, because I’m also a teacher, so some of what he was saying was relatable to me. But the guy teaches high school English, and even though the book follows him from his thirties to like his sixties, he’s kind of salivating over the high school girls and it was making me very uncomfortable. He never actually does anything about his attraction (at least not in the book), but I was still like this is wildly unprofessional please stop.

17. Loki: Agent of Asgard vol. 1, by Jason Ewing (a book from a nonhuman perspective): This was the second-ever graphic novel I’ve ever read guys. Yes, I had a weeabo phase in junior high like everyone else, so I did read manga, but comics were never really that interesting to me. So I was Thor: Ragnarok six times this year. Why did I see it six times? I love Loki and their genderfluidity, even if the MCU won’t acknowledge that my love so obviously gf. So I decided to read all the comics where it’s canon that Loki is genderfluid. This book was so good, please read.

18. Graceling, by Kristen Cashore (a steampunk novel). Cheating again, sorry. This was more fantasy than steampunk. It was also a junior high favorite I’m reading again. In this world, there are people born with two eye colors that signify they have special abilities. Some are benign, like being an amazing baker or the ability to tell someone is lying to you, but some are more sinister. The main character, Katsa’s grace is for killing. It’s a good book.

19. The Irish Civil War, by Tim Pat Coogan (a book with a red spine). A very short book highlighting the Irish Civil War 1922-1923. I liked it, because the civil war is basically the only section of Irish history I was still a little foggy on, so it was helpful. Will you like it? Only if you’re into Irish history like me. This is not Immortal Irishman.

20. Esperanza Rising, by Pam Munoz Ryan (A book you loved as a child). We read this with my fifth graders last year. I loved this book when I was ten, but I got so much more out of it this second time around. It’s a really good book, even if you’re not a child. Esperanza starts out the daughter of a wealthy rancher, but when her father dies under shifty circumstances, she and her mother are forced to flee to America, where they live with their servants’ relatives in a migrant worker camp in California, facing hardship, discrimination, and immigration laws. It’s very good.

21. Cupid, by Julius Lester (a book with a title that’s a character’s name). This was okay. I thought I’d read it in junior high, but I had no memory of any of it. It’s a retelling of the myth of Cupid and Psyche, which is very similar to East of the Sun and West of the Moon. The author tried to be tongue-in-cheek in a few places, which I didn’t appreciate, but overall it’s a pretty good YA novel.

22. Loki: Agent of Asgard vol. 2, by Jason Ewing (a book with an unreliable narrator). Loki? Unreliable? Since when? Still good, still queer, Freyja pissing me off as always.

23. Fun Home, by Alison Bechdel (a book with pictures): Okay, I guess I lied, since this book was a graphic novel and I read it before Loki. It was really interesting. It’s autobiographical of Bechdel’s life and relationship with her dad.

24. The Pirate Queen, by Barbara Sjoholm (a book about an interesting woman). Not only was this about my favorite person ever, Grace O’Malley, stone in Britain’s imperial sandal, but also talked about the relationship between Atlantic-dwelling women and the sea. It covers goddesses, fisherwomen, pirates, adventurers, and sea-witches from Ireland, Scotland, the Faroes, Iceland, and Greenland. It was really interesting and I recommend it.

25. Timekeeper, by Tara Sim (a book set in two different time periods). Cheated here, too, don’t know what I was thinking. Anyway, this is a steampunk novel in which clock towers actually control time, which means that if there’s a flaw, it affects time itself in more literal ways. It’s about a clock mechanic and a clock spirit who lives in one of the towers and watches over the clock. They are adorably gay, but that’s more of a subplot because someone has been sabotaging the towers and throwing time into chaos. The sequel comes out in January. Good for a debut novel.

26. Across Five Aprils, by Irene Hunt (a book with a month or day of the week in the title). This is about a ten-year-old boy growing up in rural Illinois during the Civil War, so it talks about how it affects him and his family, as well as covers the course of the war in a more general perspective. It was interesting, and well written, but I think I prefer Hunt’s Up a Road Slowly.

27. The Adventures of Charls, by CS Pacat (a book written by someone you admire): Another Captive Prince short story that should be read after The Summer Palace. Where Green But for a Season (the first CP short story) was sad, and Summer Palace was passionate and cute, The Adventures of Charls is hilarious. Charls, the cloth merchant, was such a great side character in the CP trilogy, and telling the story from his perspective was great. It doesn’t have to be read after the Summer Palace, but at least the trilogy should be read first.

28. Wonder, by RJ Palacio (a book that’s becoming a movie in 2017). Did you watch the movie? Whitewashed, go read the fucking book. I read this with my fifth graders last year too, who loved it. It’s a very sweet story, and the movie was good, but it goes too fast and leaves out some scenes that I liked. Highly, highly recommend.

29. The Foxhole Court, by Nora Sakavic (the first book in a series you haven’t read before). First book (obviously) in the All for the Game series. What are you still doing here? Go start this trilogy!

30. Symptoms of Being Human, by Jeff Garvin (a bestseller from 2016). I think I cheated again, but this book should have been a bestseller. Quality of the story gets a solid 7/10, but this is the only novel I know of that has a canon human genderfluid character, and representation is so important and for a cis dude, this guy wrote genderfluid shockingly well. Characterization and representation gets a 10/10 because I just ignored the “I’m a whiny teenager, no one likes me, my parents don’t get me, woe is me” chorus. Some of it was justified, because they were being bullied, and they weren’t out to their parents, but still, the book was written very young adult-y.

31. The Story We Carry in Our Bones, by Juliene Osbourne-McKnight (a book about an immigrant or refugee). The subtitle describes the book best: Irish history for Irish-Americans. Down side: very watered down Irish history because it’s a small book and just an introduction to Irish history. Up side: More information and context of the history of the Irish in America, because my personal studies have pretty much entirely skipped over that aspect of my heritage. If you’re Irish-American and looking to learn a little more about your ethnic past, but don’t want to dive headfirst into the deep end of Irish everything like me, you should read this book. If you’re willing to study more in-depth Irish history, skip this book and I have some better recommendations for you.

32. Loki: Agent of Asgard vol. 3, by Jason Ewing (a book from a genre you’ve never heard of): Cheated; I know what a comic book is. This is the last volume in this series. My only qualm is a spoiler, so I’ll give it 8/10.

33. Original Sin: Thor and Loki in the Tenth Realm, by Jason Ewing (a book with an eccentric character): Who is more eccentric than Loki “Always-Extra” Laufeyson? This is the first comic I’ve ever read, and I have to say it was very good. Featuring genderfluid!Loki all the way, actual Father-of-the-Year this time Odin, Freyja’s shockingly shitty parenting skills (maybe this is a theme in the comics, but coming from actual-angel!Frigga in the MCU, this was upsetting for me), and Thor abandoning the Avengers in a fight to start another battle in another realm because Thor is a fucking over-dramatic bastard.

34. Huntess, by Malinda Lo (a book that’s been mentioned in another book). I read Lo’s Ash a few years ago and loved it. Huntress, while okay, didn’t quite live up to the hype I’d applied to it after reading Ash. It was good, and had a very mythical Ireland feel to it that I liked, and it was very gay, but I don’t know, it wasn’t quite what I was expecting.

35. Ever, by Gail Carson Levine (a book based on mythology). I read this book when I was fourteen, too (guess I did read a lot of books from junior high). I love this book. It’s about a young god who meets a monotheistic mortal girl and they fall in love despite the differences in their religion. I didn’t love it as much as I did in junior high, but it’s still good. Levine also wrote Ella Enchanted, which is very good and more well-known than Ever.

#books #book recommendations #book recs

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