#their idea that anything new they could’ve come up with for Tim still wouldn’t top ripping off of Jason lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

The Secrets Best Left In The Dark

Batsis x Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 4K Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death

Author's Note: I thrive on angst, so I have no apologies for y'all. Enjoy! -Thorne

They’d never claim their eldest sibling was cowardly. Far from it, she put her life on the line every day, in and out of the suit, defending those she cared for with a strength that they’d never seen in anyone. But while everyone in their family was typically hot-tempered and ready for a beatdown, she was calm and quiet. Always kind, and never letting anger, or any type of other emotion show besides pleasantness. For a while, they merely assumed she was the doormat type, simply on the basis that she never argued with their dad over anything—the whole “It’s my way or the highway” and his way was what she always went with—and that made her seem like an alien surrounded by humans because everyone argued with Bruce. That, and the fact that whenever she got into the rare fight during patrol, she’d never hit anybody. She was trained to take down multiple combatants and not once did she ever punch, hit, or kick a single person.

It was practically abnormal to be in the Batfamily and never lay a hand on a criminal, and yet that was what their sister did. Hardly ever did she use force to get what she wanted, always relying on stealth. Even on the minute cases when she got caught in an infiltration and had to fight her way out, she used electrified gauntlets to subdue them, rarely coming to blows. So, in a sense while everyone in her family was an aggressive fighter, she was a defensive—or perhaps a passive one—and that’s how she acted in life too. Always passive by nature, but always playing the peacekeeper between brothers and between fathers and sons.

They never knew why she was such a way, from the stories that Diana and Clark used to tell, back when it was just their sister and Bruce, she was a whirlwind that got into fights with anything that dared breathe in her direction—apparently, she made her angriest siblings look like mice. But no matter how many times they pried or even asked Bruce (apparently, he didn’t know what changed either—and this was coming from the World’s Greatest Detective), she never talked about it, simply saying that she grew out of always being angry and wanted to be calmer.

They suspected she held a dark secret—but no one could’ve prepared for just how dark and damaging it had been to her all these years.

***

In hindsight, taking a trip into Scarecrow’s lab was a bad idea, but when the offer had come up in the cave from her father, (Y/N) was happy to lend a hand, knowing that with his recent injury, he wouldn’t’ve been able to get out there during the night. It was also amazing, in the twenty-seven years she’d been alive, and in the past nineteen years that she’d been a vigilante, she’d never seen her father take a break—she could count on one hand how many times he had, and even then, he was still working in the cave, so technically it wasn’t a break.

But after tangling with Bane and Croc, he’d broken a few ribs and after repeated complaints and worries from her, his sons, and Alfred, Bruce finally agreed to let his children handle patrol. Which is why when the quadrants of the city were split up between Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian, it left (Y/N) to pick up specific places that Bruce wanted checked out—she warmly agreed to do so. And while she was confident in her abilities to do everything, he asked of her, she should’ve called for backup when it came to infiltrating Scarecrow’s hideout.

***

Another vent went off above her and she ducked, eyes narrowing as she watched the orange fog, appearing blue through her detective mode, drift out. She would’ve sprayed it, but she’d used up all of her explosive gel covering the others. Now she simply had to avoid them and hope that her gas mask filtered properly—so far, it was. A shrill laugh echoed through the speakers above her, and shivers went down her spine.

Anytime now, Batgirl. You will fall too.

She frowned. “I’m not afraid of you, Doctor Crane.” Ducking under another pipe, she added, “I can help you if you’ll let me.”

Help me? Help…ME? You can’t even help YOURSELF!

Scarecrow had always been a talker, much like the majority of the villains they faced, and he was looking for a rise. She came to the end of the corridor where the pipes met a brick wall and she sighed, searching for a way through. A vent covered the top right corner and she pulled out the grapple gun, pointing it at the grate. She pressed the trigger and it latched onto the metal bars; grasping the cord, she yanked as hard as she could, stepping backwards when it fell, hitting the ground with a clang.

(Y/N) heaved herself up into the vent and crawled on her hands and knees, as quietly as she could, twisting and turning through the maze of confined metal. When she came to the end, another grate covered the exit and she pressed her foot against it, pushing until the bolts popped loose and she could slip out.

From the looks of it, if the advanced chemistry equipment were any help, she’d ended up in Scarecrow’s lab. He wasn’t in sight, but that gave her time to look around and see if he’d changed any formulas recently. She raised her wrist and tapped at the blue screen, taking a moment to run a program. When it beeped, (Y/N) sighed in relief and reached up, pulling the gas mask off—the air was clean.

She set the mask down on the counter and put a finger to her ear. “Batman, do you read me?” His voice came through a moment later.

“I read you Batgirl. Loud and clear.”

“I’m in Doctor Crane’s lab,” she said, poking around at the notes he’d scrawled out. “I don’t see anything new. The formulas all look the same.”

“Compounds?”

She frowned and read. “Honestly, it’s a bit hard to decipher. His handwriting is a lot like Red’s when he’s had one too many energy drinks.” A quiet huff came from over the line, telling her that he was amused. “I’ll send you pictures of it and see if you can.” (Y/N) snapped a few photos. “Get ‘em?”

“Just now,” he replied, and she walked over to one of the lit Bunsen burners.

“Looks like he’s got something brewing right now though,” (Y/N) leaned over and peered into it, careful to avoid any steam that was rising.

“Recognize it?”

She paused. “It’s not the usual stuff he’s got. It looks almost golden and—”

All at once the dish exploded and she had just enough time to cover her face from the shattering glass, letting out a gasp as she recoiled.

“Batgirl, what happened?”

(Y/N) coughed and waved a hand, and when her hand appeared double, she breathed out in shock. “Oh no,” she whispered.

“Batgirl, report.” She hurried to the exit of the lab as Scarecrow’s cackle sounded overhead.

“I’ve been hit with a blast of toxin.” Pulling open the door, she fumbled with her utility belt then let out a sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

(Y/N) shook her head and weaved down the corridors, the faster she got to her bike, the faster she could get back to the cave.

“I don’t have any anti-toxin on me.” She pushed against the doors and stumbled out into the cold and rainy night. Her mind was already beginning to fog over as she climbed onto her bike, and she barely had enough focus to keep it steady while she programmed it to auto-drive.

“I’m sending one of the boys to you.”

She grunted and lifted her foot as the bike revved and shot forward. “Don’t. I’ve already programmed the bike to the cave’s coordinates. I’ll be back in less than fifteen minutes.”

“You won’t make it that long.”

(Y/N) groaned as the lights began to flash around her and she saw faces and images passing her. “I just have to…focus.”

Horns blared around her as the bike weaved in and out of cars and she held onto the frame with all the strength she had. His voice started echoing in her ears and she shut her eyes, trying to block it out.

You could’ve saved me.

Another groan escaped her, and she heard, “(Y/N), talk to me.”

She shook her head. “I can’t—I have to—focus now.” But with every passing second, his voice got louder and more insistent.

You let me die. You watched me die.

(Y/N)’s eyes filled with tears and they dripped down her cheeks. I tried to save you. she thought, hoping it would suffice, but she knew it wouldn’t. I tried so hard to. The last thing she remembered was turning onto the street that led to the cave.

***

Bruce was already pushing away from the Batcomputer when the boys arrived back at the cave, Dick and Damian from the Batmobile, and Tim and Jason from their own rides. Knowing that their father wasn’t one to sit around, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to be moving, but with how quick and worried his movements seemed, they knew something was wrong.

Dick pulled the cowl away from his face and asked, “B? What’s wrong?”

Bruce didn’t respond at first, hurrying towards the medical station they had. “Your sister was dosed with fear toxin and she doesn’t have anti-toxin to counteract it.”

Jason, who’d already taken his hood off, was already in the process of putting it back on. “Let one of us take it to her.”

Their father shook his head, rummaging for an antidote. “She’s coming back here.”

“Here?” Tim repeated, striding over. “Fear toxin works within seconds on normal people, minutes for us.” He looked at his brothers. “She won’t have enough time to get back here and not be under the effects.”

Bruce nodded, focusing as he poured a vial of glowing green liquid into the needle gun. “I know.” He looked at Tim. “That’s why I’m getting it ready for her.”

“Father, can we do anything?” Damian questioned, pulling away the domino mask from his eyes.

“Get ready to be on the defensive if she’s offensive,” he replied. “I don’t think she’ll hit anybody, but you never know.”

“She can’t hit that hard. (Y/N) only weighs—” Jason cut off as the rev of an engine cut though the air and they turned to see their eldest sister coming in on a sleek black motorcycle, that was shaking badly.

“(Y/N)!” Dick yelled and the bike suddenly shifted and toppled sideways, throwing her from it. It slid across the cave floor in a hail of sparks, metal, and plastic flying in every direction as (Y/N) rolled too.

They started running towards her, hoping to stop her when her back collided with one of the glass cases that held their suits, and she went limp.

Bruce reached her first, and knelt down, setting the antidote aside to check her first. The way she hit the case and with how hard, it was possible that she could be seriously injured—or worse.

“(Y/N)!” he called, hands coming to pull her away from the case. She whimpered and he let out a sigh—she was still alive. “(Y/N), can you hear me?” he inquired, reaching up to pull the cowl from her face.

Her brothers crowded behind him and they all stared in horror as tears streamed down her cheeks, and blood out of her nose.

“I’m sorry,” she bawled. “I tried to save you.” Bruce looked at her then grabbed the needle gun, bringing it up to her neck.

“Hang on, (Y/N). You’re gonna be okay.”

She grabbed his hand and cried, “I held on as long as I could, but my grip was slipping. I’m sorry I couldn’t hold onto you. I’m sorry I let you go. I let you die. I’m sor—” her sobs cut her off as she curled in on herself, and as if finally snapping out of a trance, Bruce pulled his hand from her grip and pulled the trigger of the gun.

(Y/N) jerked as the needle entered her skin and they watched the neon green liquid in the vial emptied. She fell into whimpers and mumbles of “I’m sorry” before her eyes rolled back and she collapsed in Bruce’s arms.

He stared at her for a second, feeling numb at his daughter’s admissions. Whatever her fear had been, it’d been there a long time, and he had no idea what it was about. Sighing heavily, he drew his eyes to his sons, to Jason.

“Will you take (Y/N) to her bedroom while I get an IV ready?”

Jason nodded and bent down, picking up his unconscious sister. He tucked her head in the crook of his neck and looked at Dick. “Get the doors, yeah?” Dick nodded and hurried ahead of him, while Tim and Damian followed in suit.

Bruce was left alone in a matter of moments, and all he could do was rise to his feet and ready the medical supplies, all the while, thinking back on every night that (Y/N) had gone on patrol in the last nineteen years—and the last time someone died in front of her.

***

Her head felt like an overripe melon ready to burst, and that first moment of cracking her eyes open was the biggest mistake since she told her dad what ‘Thot’ meant. The second she opened them, she shut them once more, inhaling deeply through her nose as the fog started to clear from her mind.

“Queenie, hey, you’re awake,” Jason murmured, and she nodded, blinking a few times before his face came into focus, Dick appearing Tim appearing behind him.

“Go get dad,” Dick said to someone, and she figured it was Damian since neither Jason nor Tim moved.

(Y/N) started shifting, trying to sit up when Dick put his hand on her shoulder, gentle, but firm as he said, “Don’t try to move, Barbie.”

“Where’s dad?” she asked, craning her neck to see.

“Damian’s going to get him sis,” Tim answered, smoothing out the blanket covering her. “Just relax. You took a beating when you came into the cave.”

“I did?” she questioned, eyes widening in shock when they nodded, faces pinched with worry.

The ceiling light turned on just bright enough to give sight and they looked at Bruce who was coming in, Damian following.

“(Y/N),” Dick moved, letting Bruce take his spot, and he took her hand in his, running his thumb over the back of her hand. “You had us all worried.”

She frowned and exhaled heavily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” She gazed between them, and something in their eyes made an emotion she couldn’t describe rise in her chest.

“Why are you all looking at me like that?” (Y/N) met Bruce’s eyes. “What happened?” Before he could answer, she gasped and looked at her brothers. “I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?”

A chorus of hurried, “No’s!” rang out and she sighed in relief, reclining back on the pillows.

“Oh, thank goodness.” She went silent, then started, “But…something did happen, didn’t it?”

Her brothers glanced between themselves then they looked at Bruce who sighed and squeezed her hand, drawing her attention to him.

“What?” she asked and when he said nothing, she repeated, “Dad, what?”

His steel blue eyes met hers and he murmured, “You were apologizing for…letting someone die.”

Whatever had flashed in her eyes that told them she knew exactly what they were talking about was shocking enough because Jason said, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t wanna, Queenie.”

(Y/N) fell silent for a full minute and when she spoke again, her voice was quiet and the look in her eyes was far away. “Before Dick came to the manor it was just you and I patrolling Gotham. At eight, I wasn’t really let out of your sight, but one night I had wandered off while you were dealing with Two-Face.” She looked at Bruce. “I found an injured GCPD officer on a bridge. He had been tailing Killer Croc.”

She glanced at Tim. “His name was Grady Richards.”

Tim’s eyes fell to the tablet in his hands, and he tapped at the screen for a few moments, then read, “Hero cop Grady Richards honored after dying in line of duty. He fell off a broken bridge on Miagani Island.”

Bruce’s eyes found hers again. “He didn’t fall, did he?”

(Y/N) felt tears grow in her vision and she shook her head. “No…no he didn’t.” Inhaling deeply, she recounted, “Croc came back and there was no way either of us could’ve taken him, so we ran. And Croc chased us.” She shut her eyes, remembering the night.

***

Fear pulsed through her veins as she sprinted as far away from the overgrown crocodile as she could. The GCPD officer was ahead of her, but he stopped and spun around to see her.

“Hurry!” he yelled, pointing back to the car. “Get to the cruiser!”

She spared a glance over her shoulder, eyes going wide when she saw Killer Croc picking up one of the concrete guards.

“Duck!” was all she heard, and she hit the ground, watching as if in slow motion as it flew overhead, then smashed into the top of the cop’s car, glass and metal shattering under the pressure.

Someone grabbed her by the back of her suit and hauled her up, slinging her behind them, and the back of the GCPD officer’s uniform came into view.

“Start running, Batgirl! And don’t stop!” he yelled, and when he has his sidearm drawn, he looked down at her. “You’ve got as much time as I have bullets.” He turned, opening fire, and she took a moment to stare before scrambling to her feet to start running.

A cry of pain sounded behind her, and against her better judgement, she turned and looked, gaping as Croc’s arm sent the officer flying. He hit the guardrail and collapsed against it and her feet were moving before she could stop them.

The first punch went to the back of Croc’s knee and she knew it had to have hurt her more than it did him because he didn’t even flinch. But when those glowing yellow eyes peered down at her, she knew she was in trouble.

“Looks like I’ve got an appetizer for the night!” he laughed and reached for her, but she ducked and rolled out of his way, standing in front of the wounded GCPD officer, who weakly looked up at her.

“What are you—doing? I told you…to run.”

She couldn’t beat Killer Croc, and she knew it, but she shook her head and stared down the villain before her.

Croc’s attacks were wide and though she was small, she was pushed to her limit rolling and dodging every one. After a few moments, she was practically dead on her feet, huffing as her lungs begged for air. She kept wiping away the rain that splattered against her mask and on a particularly unlucky step, she found herself slipping.

And it was all the opening that Croc needed because he swiped at her and she flew backwards into the officer who’d managed to stand, just barely. Colliding with him tipped his balance and they went over the guardrail, barreling towards the ground.

She reached out as fast as she could and grabbed hold of the metal beam that ran the length of the under bridge, crying out in pain as it pulled the joints and bones. Her other hand gripped the officer’s and she held on tight. Croc leaned over the bridge, apparently not seeing them because his footsteps went off in the opposite direction, leaving them in silence.

Time passed and she wasn’t sure how long, but both her arms were getting tired, and she looked down at the officer.

“Sir?” she called, and he looked up at her. “You have to climb. I’m starting to lose grip.”

He tried to reach up but let out a cry and grabbed his side with his free hand. Pulling his hand away, she saw the crimson dilute with rainwater.

The hand that held the ledge began to cramp and she started hyperventilating. “Please, you need to hurry! I can’t hold on much longer!” Again, he tried, and she looked down at him as her fingers began to shake.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered and let go of his hand, and the last thing she saw until he hit the ground was the sight of his eyes, wide with fear and pleading.

***

“I watched his head explode when he hit the ground,” she said, tears pouring down her cheeks as she stared out the window, watching the rain hit against the glass. “I had to make a choice. Either both of us died or one of us lived.” (Y/N) looked at Bruce. “And I chose my life over his.”

No one could believe their ears at the story she’d told, but suddenly, the self-sacrificing attitude their sister had, the way she’d bend over backwards for anyone, made perfect sense—she did it out of atonement, for a wrong she carried since she was eight years old.

“I pulled myself back up onto the bridge and I ran as far as I could and didn’t look back,” she said. “I kept my mouth shut when the paper ran his story and never told anyone about it.”

(Y/N)’s breath shuddered. “I just pushed it down as far inside me as I could and tried to forget about it.” Her eyes met Bruce and she tearfully stated, “But every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face.”

He leaned forward and took her hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked softly, dark brows furrowed in hurt.

She swallowed thickly and shook her head as she replied, “I killed someone that night. I was terrified about what you would’ve said. About what you would’ve done.” He gazed at her and (Y/N) whispered, “I’m sorry, dad.”

Bruce dropped her gaze and took a deep breath before murmuring, “It was just an accident, (Y/N).”

“I let go of—”

“I would’ve been more upset having to bury my daughter,” he interrupted, and she fell silent, gaping at him. He searched her face and reached up, placing a hand on her cheek. “I understand why you kept this secret, but you should’ve come to me, (Y/N).” Shaking his head, he added, “You didn’t deserve to be buried under this for nineteen years.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, lowering her head and Bruce shook his head in response.

“No, I’m sorry.” When she met his eye, he continued, “I’m sorry I didn’t know you were carrying this. Then and now.”

(Y/N) swallowed and rested back against the bed. “I send his widow money on the anniversary of his death. I slip it into the pension she’s given.” She let out a sigh. “It’s the only way I’ve found that I could sleep at night.”

Her eyes drifted to the window and Bruce placed a kiss to her forehead. “Get some sleep, sweetheart.” She nodded and before he left, he said, “And when you feel up for it, we’ll see about setting up a fund in his name.”

She wished it didn’t make her as emotional as it did, but silent tears dripped down her cheeks as the door closed, leaving her and her brothers alone. They gathered on her bed, leaning close to offer their support, and she was thankful for them doing so. And for the first time in nineteen years, when (Y/N) closed her eyes, she didn’t see Grady Richards’ face.

590 notes · View notes

citydreamgrls · 3 years

Text

surprises

ron weasley x fem!reader

words: 4,049

a/n: i would just like to say a massive thank you to the love shown on my past two weasley fanfics. i hope this one can bring you just as much joy and escape in these horrible times ,, stay safe ! :)

warnings: smut (18+) , daddy kink , dominant ron ;)))

It was a sunny day in London, and people had flocked to the streets to enjoy the fleeting good weather before it was gone again. I was on my break, the top buttons of my work blouse undone as I leant over the bridge to watch the river’s water pass by. A cigarette went between my fingers and lips as I checked my watch, just another five minutes then I’d be back to serving coffee to rushing businessmen.

My lungs filled up and I turned around, my back on the railing as I puffed out a small cloud of smoke before my eyes. I froze, blinking a few times before laughing quietly to myself.

I really must be missing my friends, because I could’ve sworn I saw Harry, Ron and Hermione on the other side of the road. But there wasn’t anyone there when the smoke cleared. I snuffed out the cigarette and headed back into the coffee shop, doing up my buttons and grabbing my apron.

“Do you think she saw us Ron?” Hermione asked me as I fell against a lamppost.

“How would I know, I was there too.” I huffed, looking up at the house that stood in a row of identical ones.

“Come on you two,” Harry called, having aparated a few doors down “I think it’s this one?”

“Number 52?” Hermione shouted, grabbing her bag and following me as I caught up to Harry.

“Yep, it’s this one.”

“Well we better set up then,”

We had decided to visit y/n last minute, knowing her parents’ plans to visit her grandmother on her birthday weekend. So we decided to throw her a surprise party to cheer her up.

“When are the boys getting here?” Harry asked, preparing to pick the lock.

“One step ahead of you!” Fred and George pulled open y/n’s front door, making us all jump back. “Well come on you lot, this house won’t decorate itself.”

“It would if we could use magic,” I grumbled.

“Bye guys, see you on monday.” I said to my co-workers, grabbing my bag and heading out into the warm evening air.

“Have a good birthday darling,” My boss, who was stacking the outdoor chairs, said as I walked past.

I opened cards on the walk home, mostly from regular costumers and people I worked with. A few of my muggle friends had come into the shop to give me gifts and wish me a happy birthday, even an aunt I hadn’t seen in months stopped by today. But nothing from Harry, Ron or Hermione.

In fact, I’d heard very little from them since the term ended. Not that I minded too much, they were spending the summer together and were probably busy. I had muggle friends in London too, which made the summer that little bit better.

“Oh y/n darling.” My neighbour hobbled down her doorstep, drawing me from my thoughts.

“Oh hi Mrs Hampton, is everything okay?” I asked, putting the cards in my bag and fishing around for my house keys. She bent down to pick something up from her front door.

“I made you a cake sweetie, I heard your parents are out of town and wanted to make sure you had something good to eat for your birthday.”

I took the cake from her outstretched hands and beamed with glee.

“Thank you so much, this is the nicest thing anyone’s done for me.”

She winked my way and chuckled,

“Just you promise that you won’t have too many friends round, my hearing might not be great but I can still sense a crowd.” she smirked.

“I promise it’ll be civilized if anything.”

“Well enjoy it anyway darling, bye bye.” I waved her off, turning to leave as she disappeared inside.

I caught a glimpse of something flashing by the window of my house and stopped again. Maybe I was just beginning to see things. I shook my head and carefully unlocked the front door so as not to drop the cake.

“Happy birthday buttercup,” A voice sounded from nearby, I turned round in the doorway to see my best (muggle) friend Jade leant against the garden gate with a smile on her face.

We’d known each other ever since the first day of nursery when I had an obsession with buttercups, hence the nickname. She had helped me find as many as I could to take home, and we’d been close from then on.

“Jade!” I put the cake down and went to give her a hug, I’d barely had a chance to see her before she had gone on holiday. “When did you land?”

“About an hour ago, I thought I’d come and say hi. And give you this.” A small blue box was placed into my hands gently, I frowned as I opened it up. Seeing a little silver bracelet, one that matched hers exactly. “Mum helped me find another one,” she laughed, “it took long enough.”

“I love it, thank you.” I hugged her again, holding her tight against me. “What are you doing later?” I asked.

“Nothing really, why?”

“I was thinking maybe we should have an early party, you know because the parents are out of town and all.” I offered up.

“Yeah, i’ll round up the others and be back here in an hour?”

“Perfect, oh and bring as much booze as you can.”

“Anything for you y/n,” she teased and went off down the road.

I picked everything up and went into the house, kicking the front door shut and heading to the kitchen to place the cake down carefully. I read the icing message with a smile and flicked on the kettle with a sigh, I didn’t have long to get ready.

A giggle sounded behind me, making me jump and grab my wand from the side. I stuck it up in the air and called out to the air.

“Who’s there!” I wasn’t sure what I’d do if an intruder came out. Especially if it was a muggle, I'd look a bit mental flinging a stick in their face.

Another noise caught my attention, this time from the living room. As I crept towards it, I could tell it was more of a fizzing of sorts. I turned the corner, wand still outstretched, and stopped in my tracks.

Right in the middle of the room a small firework was spinning around harmlessly. I got closer, frowning until it burst and displayed the small message.

Happy Birthday y/n !!!

Before I even had a chance to process it, Harry threw off his invisibility cloak in front of me and the rest of the group appeared out of thin air. I screamed in shock, amazed that they were all here for me. Suddenly the room was no longer dark and miserable, and now covered in balloons and streamers, music already playing.

“Surprise!!” The twins grabbed me from behind, and threw me into the air.

“Put her down you lunatics!” Ron shouted over the music. “The neighbours will think she’s being murdered.

“Don’t worry,” Hermione smirked, “I already put a silencer on the house.”

“What are you all doing here?” I asked, hugging them all in turn.

“We didn’t want you all on your own,” Harry smiled, quick to pour drinks for everyone.

“Yeah, especially not on your birthday.” Ron added, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, earning a teasing look from Fred and George who were wearing matching party hats.

“Oh guys this is great, but we have a small problem.” They all frowned at me as I explained what was gonna happen.

“So Fred, George, remember to keep the magic to a minimum but it isn’t the end of the world. Harry, you're in charge of making sure any pictures are hexed so they’re deleted immediately okay, we don’t need any traces of this party for my parents to see online. My friends I could explain, but you guys are strangers in their eyes and would be harder to explain if you two are performing charms in the background” I glared at the twins.

“Hermione, you’ve already obliviated the front door yes?” I asked.

“Anyone who crossed out of it will forget this entire night.” She promised me.

“Perfect.”

“Uhhh what’s my job?” Ron asked.

“Heavy lifting,” I smirked. “Take all the breakables and lock them in the coat cupboard, I can put it all back in the morning.”

The group nodded, rushing off to sort out everything while I sped up to my room to get ready for the party. Hermione followed closely, having missed her own muggle life for some time this felt like normality for her.

“It’s odd coming back isn’t it,” She nodded, looking round my room before chilling on my bed. “How has your guy’s summer been?” I asked her, starting my makeup.

“It’s been good, I stayed at the burrow. Ron wouldn’t shut up about you.”

“Do I irritate him that much?” I giggled.

“Come on he’s obsessed with you,” Hermione huffs, sick of trying to convince me yet again. “It was his idea to come here, he wouldn’t rest until we all agreed to come surprise you.”

“He’s just nice like that,”

“Have you ever seen him put as much effort into anyone else?” she smirked.

“I think you’re the only one who thinks he likes me mione,” She rolled her eyes, picking up an old magazine and waiting for me to finish.

On cue, Jade and a whole group of my muggle friends arrived each person with handfuls of booze to get through the night with. Soon the music was blasted and everyone was doing shots and dancing around my house.

The twins were impressing girls in the kitchen, this time with their new-found beer pong skills, instead of magic. But Harry was the one to watch, as he made up some wild story about his scar to a group of boys I’d known from down the street.

“Ron, I think she might be checking you out.” I giggled, leaning close so he could hear me over the music. He didn’t even bother looking at the girl I was talking about.

“Oh right,”

“Well aren’t you going to talk to her?” I nudged him.

“Oh, no I’m good thanks.” He took another gulp of his drink.

“Come on, you may as well give it a try. She won’t remember anything about tonight anyway,” I joked, he looked over at the girl giving him glances. She blushed when he noticed her.

“She’s not my type y/n,”

“God you’re so stubborn,” I laughed, finishing my drink. He didn’t say anything and just walked off, leaving me standing alone at my own party.

“Oh thanks a lot,” I scoffed and headed to the kitchen just to see Fred land another shot at the table. The boys on the opposing team were hammered and could barely see at this point.

“Having a good time y/n?” Fred asked, taking a break as they set up another round.

“Yeah this is fun, thanks you guys.”

“Oh it’s all Ron’s doing really,” George said, coming to my side as I poured another drink, not holding back on the spirits “Speaking of, where is he?”

“Oh he went off in a huff when I mentioned some girl was checking him out, I don’t know why he’s so stuck up about it. I was doing him a favour.”

Neither of the twins said a word, making me suspicious. “What?”

“Little Ronniekins does have a crush, you know.” George teased me.

“Oh not you guys too. Hermione said the same thing, he doesn’t like me like that.”

“Never underestimate how dim that boy can be y/n,” Fred huffed.

I gulped my drink down in a matter of seconds, sick of hearing them tell me something that didn’t feel true. I went to fill it up again, met with an empty bottle. In fact, there wasn’t much alcohol left at all.

“Great, looks like I’m off to the shops,” I rolled my eyes and turned around to see Hermione in the hallway. “I’m going out won’t be long.” I told her, she nodded in agreement. “Oh could you do me a favour-”

“I’ve already put a silencer on the house, no one on the street knows a thing.” She reassured me.

“God you’re good.” I laughed and took my coat off the hook. I temporarily lifted the obliviate spell on the door and passed through, seeing Ron sat on the front wall.

“So this is where the real party is,” I teased him, putting an arm around his shoulder.

He laughed lightly, unable to stay mad for too long.

“Are you going somewhere?” He pulled at my coat.

“Just to the shops, I won’t be long.”

“I can come if you want?” He offered.

“Yeah sure,” I smiled, jumping off the wall and stumbling back a bit with drunkenness.

“Careful darling,” He teased me, making me pout.

The streets were quiet on our walk back.

“This is fun,” He said in confidence.

“Do you mean us walking or the party?”

“Both, but this a bit more.” I was swaying about, the bottles in the bag rattling about. He took it from my hand with a laugh and used the other to hold me steady.

“Thank you, I can get clumsy when I’m drunk.” I rested my head on his shoulder as he slowed even more.

“It’s sweet.”

“You think so?” He nodded. “Hermione told me the surprise was your idea,”

“Uh yeah, sort of.”

“Well I think it was your best idea to date,”

Ron let go of my arm and took my hand in his, swinging it between the two of us.

“Hermione also told me something else,” I teased.

“What?” he seemed nervous.

“It’s a secret,”

“y/n,” he glared jokingly, “tell me.”

I stopped us in the street so I could get close to his ear to whisper.

“She told me that you’ve been talking about me all summer.” He was blushing slightly when I pulled away, but his hand remained in mine.

“Yeah I kinda have,” he kept his eyes on his feet as we started walking again. “But it’s only because I missed you.” “Aw I missed you too Ronniekins,” he shook his head.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Fred and George.”

“Are you jealous?” I joked.

“You’re my friend after all,”

We stopped at the front gate where Ron turned to face me as he leant against the wall, shoving his hands into his pockets as he spoke.

“I think you like me,” He declared boldly.

“You’re getting brave,” I teased.

“Am I right? That’s what matters.”

“Maybe a little,”

“I like you y/n,”

I smirked, moving closer to him so that he was pressed up against the brick.

“Does this mean I can kiss you already?”

Ron grabbed my face the second I had uttered those words, and kissed me hard as if it had been boiling inside him all this time. My hands grabbed at the collar of his shirt, playing with the fabric between my fingers while he caressed me gently.

He had a reserved sense of fierceness behind his actions. One part of him held me tight and close, unwilling to release me and halt our kiss. But the other side wondered whether he should savour this moment in all its glory.

A cough sounded at the door behind us, making both Ron and I jump apart.

“I would love to say ‘about time’, but we’re one down for our beer pong team and we can’t lose the streak.” George complained, and Ron nodded moving to follow his brother inside. “So come on y/n, you’re needed.”

“And that is why I am the best chaser on the quidditch team goalie,” I teased Ron, bringing him in with me.

Once all the alcohol had been consumed, one way or another, and all the muggle guests had left (with no recollection of the night at all) I began to clear up. Hermione was already in bed in my parents’ room, and Harry had been discarded on the kitchen table where he insisted he would spend the night.

The twins were dead asleep on the sofas when I checked on them, Ron clicking in their faces to try and rise them. With no luck.

“They’re out cold,” He laughed.

“Come on then, I’m tired.”

“Oh so you’re letting me join you,” Ron grabbed my waist, pulling me away from the staircase before I could even get a foot on the first step.

“Put me down Ron,” I giggled, jumping at the feeling of his lips on my neck. He began walking up the stairs and kicked open my door.

“Only when it’s safe to do so,” he joked, throwing me onto the bed.

I landed on my back, the air in my lungs knocked out.

“Careful, throw me around too much and I might just fuck you,” I joked, but Ron’s eyes were darker now as he smirked. I moaned internally, just seeing him like this got me excited.

“And if I did fuck you y/n?”

“I would never complain about anything, ever again.” I sighed and he threw his top off, getting on top of me and kissing my neck yet again. Deeper and harder, leaving little purple marks to show off the next morning.

His hands were all over my body, even more so when our clothes were gone. He reached down between my legs and pushed my thighs away ever so carefully. He whispered beside my ear, fingers ghosting over my panties.

“Is this what you want y/n?” I nodded, words seeming too complex. “You want my fingers inside you don’t you, knuckle deep?” All that came out was a gasp as he pulled the final item of clothing away and pushed a single finger in as promised.

I could hear how wet I was, and he could feel how, even around one finger, I was the tightest he had ever felt. One by one he added fingers, making my body seize up with the burning pleasure of their movements.

Then they were gone, dragged away, my back falling onto the mattress yet again this time with a disappointed sigh.

“Don’t worry darling, I’m not done.” He grinned, taking his cock from against his chest and pumping it. He was fully hard at just the sight of my naked body before him, all his to use as he desired. I had never wondered about the size of Ron’s cock, but this was beyond what I had ever imagined anyone’s.

It was thick and long and begging to be inside my dripping pussy. He leant closer, lining himself up with one hand and holding one of my thighs down with the other. I groaned at how forceful he was, enjoying that he was so openly having his way with me.

“You ready baby?” He asked.

“Yes… daddy,” Ron’s cock pushed deep inside me, and the nickname just made him want to get even deeper. He held one of my legs up, forcing me to tighten up around him.

“Oh fuck .. fuck.” I screamed, unbothered if I would wake the others.

“Turn around,” Ron demanded, to which I scrambled to bend over for him with my ass in the air. “Good girl,” He smacked my cheek with one hard slap and entered my pussy again in one smooth thrust, immediately groaning at the feeling.

He was hard, but I loved it. His rhythmic, strong thrusts would have sent me flying if it wasn’t for his iron grip on my waist keeping me down. I had no choice but to grip the bedsheets in my hand and scream myself silly while he pounded me like an animal.

One hand reached forward, round my neck and onto my throat. Ron pulled me up, so my back was pressed up against him.

“You’re gonna ride me now darling, like a dirty slut.” I moaned at his words, completely unravelled by them. I came then and there, being held like a willing prisoner and fucked like a whore. “Good girl,” He whispered, pushing me away and laying down, his hands resting behind his head as I climbed onto his cock and letting it slip up and into me.

This feeling, with his length, made riding an incredible experience. I felt unstoppable with Ron’s encouraging words and wandering hands that would rest upon my bouncing tits as my hips went up and down.

“Oh fuck, daddy I’m so close.” I screamed, getting faster as I chased my high like a hungry bitch.

“I want to cum inside you y/n,” He told me.

“Do it,” I groaned out. “I’ll cum too, I promise.”

“Beg,”

I pleaded out, over and over, before he spilled inside me. Less than a second after I came all over his thick cock, falling down in exhaustion and laying beside him. The only noise in the room was our laboured breathing, but Ron took my hand in his and kissed it.

“You’re incredible,” he spoke softly, now worried that we might have woken the whole street if it wasn’t for the house’s silencer.

A few moments later, once we had finally come round again, I pulled the covers over us and let Ron hold me close.

“We have to leave in the morning,” He told me.

“Can’t you just stay the rest of the weekend?” “Mum and dad are going away, and they can’t leave Ginny on her own.”

“I’ll miss you,” I told him.

“Come with us, you can stay the rest of the holiday.” He offered up, not wanting to sleep without me by his side now he felt how normal it felt to have me in his arms.

“I wish I could, but I have to work.”

“Just quit, it wouldn’t matter.”

“I need that job when I come back next summer,” I laughed, but Ron had a thought on his mind.

“Don’t come back next summer, just stay with us. You’re always complaining that your parents are never here. And if you want to see your friends, you can still visit.”

“Every summer at the burrow, with you?”

“Only if you want to,”

“I really want to.” I smiled, nustling into his side.

The next morning I packed a bag and wrote two letters. One for my boss, to explain that I had to quit under important circumstances and that I was very sorry. The other for my parents, telling them not to worry. That I was grateful for them always, but that I had friends to be my family now.

“Come on y/n,” Harry shouted down the stone steps, “I want to go to diagon alley before we leave London.” I threw my case down to George, who almost fell at the weight of it.

“Y/n?” Jade shouted to me across the road. The Weasley’s, Harry and Hermione froze at the sight of her but she smiled at them politely as if she’d never met them. A silent sigh of relief was sounded by us all. “What happened last night?” She asked, putting us on edge again.

“What do you mean?” I laughed it off.

“Well I remember bringing loads of people over, but I can’t for the life of me recall anything that happened last night.”

“You must have been really drunk Jade, I saw you and it looked bad.”

“Oh god, I feel awful. I must have been a real hassle.” She noticed the twins eyeing her from the group. “They look familiar, have I met them before?”

“No, they’ve just picked me up. I’m going away for a bit but I’ll let you know when I’m back.” Her attention was quickly back on me.

“Okay, well, have a good summer and ring me when you can.” She hugged me goodbye and headed off back up the road.

“She totally had a thing for me last night,” Fred gloated.

“No she did not, she wanted me.” George argued.

“Oh shut it you two!” Hermione huffed, sporting yet another hangover. “Are we all ready?”

I took Ron’s hand in mine and smiled at the ginger boy beside me, “Ready.”

#ron weasly imagine #ron weasly x reader #ron weasley #weasley #fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter #smut #harry potter smut #ron weasley smut #weasley smut #hermione #fred weasley #george weasley

155 notes · View notes

sparkleofpizza · 4 years

Text

Being a Kent and dating a batboy - headcanon

Tim Drake

You were Clark’s adoptive daughter, he had decided to take you in after your parents left you behind;

You were Conner and Jon’s little sister;

Very overprotective over you;

You had known Tim for a very long time now, since he was Conner’s best friend and all;

You though he was very cute, not that you would admit it to anyone;

Lois knew - she knew everything, but didn’t say anything to you, letting you tell her yourself when you felt comfortable enough to;

She knew the boys would freak out if they found out, even Clark;

Lex Luthor was planning something big and bad, very bad;

Lois was out of the country for some conference she would be covering for te Daily Planet and they’d be damned if they let anything happen to you, so they did the most logic thing they could think of at the moment: send you away to stay at the Wayne Manor while they sorted things out;

You weren’t a super and although you knew how to fight they couldn’t risk you getting hurt;

You were offended they thought you couldn’t handle yourself, but knew they were only doing it out of love;

You also wouldn’t pass up the opportunity of spending some quality time with Tim without one of your brother lurking around;

He was over the moon to know you were staying over for a while;

The both of you did everything together;

Stayed up all night working on cases;

Drank a lot of coffee;

Went on little coffee dates, not like you actually called it a date;

Watched movies and lots of tv shows;

Sparred together;

The nights Tim left for patrol were the worse, you would stay up waiting for him to come back, worried out of your mind;

I mean, your brothers and father were fighting a big threat back home, and your crush was risking his neck to save the city, it is impossible not to worry;

So one night you wrapped yourself up in one of his blankets and lied on his bed, waiting for him to return;

Oh, when he saw you so peacefully asleep, he felt like his heart was going to explode, you were just so so so adorable;

He lied down next to you, groaning a bit since he got hurt during patrol;

You sat up, eyes wide open when you heard that sound, turning around and grabbing his face in between your hands;

“Are you hurt?” You asked, way too serious “It’s just a broken rib” He smiled at you, leaning in your touch

To this day you still don’t know what gotten into you, but you pressed your lips against his in a heated kiss, pouring all of your emotions in it;

He obviously kissed you back;

You spend the rest of the night in each others arms, professing their love for one another;

Actually, you started to spend most of your nights like that;

And days too;

You were always in each others embrace;

You were afraid to tell your brothers and father that you and Tim were dating;

You were pretty sure Conner would freak out, you are his little sister and you’re dating his best friend;,

The both of you would sneak out a lot after you went home;

Whenever Tim was around you and your brothers or his brothers were there too, he had to fight back the urge to just wrap his arms around your waist and prep kisses all over your face;

You would sneak off a lot, not really wanting anyone to know about your relationship;

Damian was the first one to find out about you and Tim and surprisingly allowed you to tell the news to everyone when you were ready for it;

Lois knew, of course she knew, you couldn’t just get your first boyfriend who was also a vigilant and your brother’s best friend and just not tell your mother about it;

It was a chaos when everyone found out;

You and Tim were cuddling in the Cave, him working and you sitting on his lap, massaging his scalp and playing with his hair;

Conner yelled and tried to kill your boyfriend the moment he saw it;

Jon tried to kill him too, Clark was just too shocked to say something;

Bruce stood still watching the scene unfold before he tried to break them free;

Jason slid some money to Dick, loosing the bet they had placed on the both of you as Damian shook his head in shame;

The fight had escalated way too quickly;

You were so frustrated you said you would only talk to them when they learned how to behave like proper human beings and not treat you like an object of possession;

Walking alone I’m Gotham at 3 am couldn’t possibly be a good idea, but there you were, on your own only wearing a hood and not even carrying your phone with you;

You ended up with a superficial cut on your side and a bruised hand after kicking 4 thugs asses on your own;

Tim was the first to find you, pulling you into a tight embrace, but panicking once he saw some blood dripping - it was really a small cut, but he carried you to the hospital despite your protests;

Your father and brothers soon learned about where you were, they were kind of shocked that Tim thought you should get medical help when you clearly had a very superficial cut and Alfred could’ve handled it in a blink of an eye;

That kind of made them start to change their minds about you guys relationship;

Of course it doesn’t mean that Jon and specially Conner didn’t threatened to kill Tim very slowly if he ever hurt you, and that they were always keeping an eye on you;

So secret make out sessions had to become even more secretive and silent, God you hated super hearing;

You once had to stay with your hair down for almost a week because of a hickey Tim left on your neck, and from there on you both agreed that hickeys were only allowed in the body parts that would remain covered in clothing;

Overall, dis-considering your family overprotectiveness, you were just too happy;

Tim made you happy and you loved him.

Damian Wayne

You were Clark’s baby daughter;

Actually just two years younger than Jon, but they still treated you as a baby;

You didn’t really want to take on the mantle of being Supergirl, so you only ever did superhero activity when it was extremely important;

That being said you weren’t a big part of meeting your family vigilantes and superhero acquaintances;

You actually randomly met Damian not knowing he was your brother’s friend - you knew of him, but didn’t remember his face;

He was in Metropolis to visit Jon and they were supposed to meet at an ice cream shop, but he got lost, running into you. You being he nice person you are decided to take him there, and then once you saw your brother, you were really confused until you realized they were friends;

Damian thought you were a bit stupid, he knew who you were and you didn’t recognize him - he was just bitter that you didn’t remember his face;

You took it upon yourself to make up for the fact that you didn’t remember him, you were feeling so guilty over it;

So every time you saw Damian you would brightly smile at him and ask him how he was doing, ask him about his pets - you learned that from Jon - ask him about Robin, but he didn’t seem to want to talk;

You were sure he hated you, and that made you really sad;

You just had a minor huge crush on him;

One day you had a horrible day at school, people were mean, you failed a geometry test and it just straight up sucked to the point that literally anything could make you cry, so when you only muttered a small hello upon seeing Damian he knew something was up, and he was onto it to find out what it was;

Oh boy, once he cornered you and saw your big round sad eyes full of tears and lip quivering from trying not to cry he promised he would break every single bone of whoever had done that to you;

See, he had a crush on you too;

He started tutoring you on geometry, and you actually improved, he was done with school, but was so smart and that made you a bit more attracted to him;

Your mom, Lois, asked you about your feelings towards him, but you just brushed it off, you didn’t confirm nor denied it;

One day during one of your study dates, Damian placed his hand on your thigh, you tried to ignore it, but before you could realized it you were both kissing each other with you being lied on bed with him on top of you;

That became normal and shortly after you two were dating;

Damian wanted to make things right, so he planned a dinner with both his and yours family to announce you two were dating;

Everyone was shocked, Damian was dating? And it was you????

Jon wanted to jump up his neck and kill him, how could he date his little sister? The bro code!

Damian was unfazed and so were you, not letting anyone get in the middle of your relationship;

Clark was a bit weirded out because you were dating Bruce’s son, but he knew he was a good kid so it was ok for him, Conner thought it was odd and gave Damian a threat if he ever hurt you, Lois was over the moon;

But they were all a bit skepitical about your relationship, everyone thought you wouldn’t last too long;

You were happy everyone took it better than expected, Jon would get there someday too, he couldn’t be mad at you both forever;

Or so you thought;

You and Damian had a date planned? Better think again, Jon is there to ruin it;

You two are making out? Better run fast because Jon is ready to punch Damian;

The truth was that he was feeling left out, Damian is his best friend and he didn’t say anything about liking you, he had to find out when you both got together, and well you’re his sister dating his best friend! It is weird for him!

Everyone soon found out Damian meant serious business with you, the hardest and most horrible way, but they did;

You were out on the field with everyone, it was one of those times there was a big threat and you had to help out;

You were about the get shot and Damian just jumped in front of you, taking the bullet for you;

“Did you just take a bullet for me?” You yelled, kneeling down and pressing on the wound He smiled weekly at you “Of course, beloved, I couldn’t let you get hurt” You looked skeptically at him “You do realize I’m bulletproof, right?”

Jon was flipping his shit once he saw his best friend, collapsing by his side and apologizing for ever thinking he was just messing around with you, and also stating he was stupid for jumping in front of a bullet;

You stayed with Damian 24/7 during his recovery, doing everything for him and just being extra cuddly and lovely;

Jon stopped bothering you, stating he was 100% on board of you two dating, but the moment he saw you making out, Damian without a shirt and you on his lap, boy... He was traumatized.

895 notes · View notes

octalove · 4 years

Text

VI: The Dotted Line

(Batgirl/Red Hood)

Description: Jason extends an offer. Part one, two, three, four, and five.

Note: someone said Batgirl and Jason mission, and i am but a humble servant of the people. also, i almost named this chapter “Carolyn Crawford”. Hope you like❤️

TW: Decription of sex work (barely), very light gore

Being back at Batman’s side was a peculiar thing these days. Soothing and suffocating all at once; like returning home after a long, liberating trip. It felt easy, and safe. I was reminded of the first time he brought me up to a towering building top. I clung to Nightwing like a life preserver.

Once I found my footing, the building tops were the only place I felt safe. The taller the skyscraper, the higher and farther from the grim city that raised me. I wondered what would happen when I outgrew the skyscrapers, too.

November was settling like an icy blanket over Gotham. My breath wreathed around me as my chest heaved from scaling the office building I was settled on, hoping to catch a glimpse of the gray dawn as 2am turned to 3am. I could see Robin’s breath too, as he crouched like a gargoyle on the balls of his feet. Even when I pushed his arm lightly, he glared, but didn’t move. The kid had incredible balance.

“I was beginning to enjoy your absence.” He muttered.

I smiled at him. “Are you kidding? Patrol is boring without me.”

“Patrol is boring without brainless plebeians to subdue. I can make due without you.”

“So you’re saying you don’t consider me a brainless plebeian?” I replied.

His lip twitched. He liked this game. It was the birthplace of many of his preferred insults.

“Closer to a bumbling fawn.”

“I like that one.”

Damian’s disinterest in all things regarding my thoughts and feelings was a good distraction. I’d been using him for the past week since my latest brush with Red Hood. Well, Jason. It was still hard to wrap my mind around.

I knew him. He knew me. I shouldn’t have been worried; he knew nothing about me. Nothing other than who I was, anyway. I wanted to ignore whatever residual feeling was left from fighting him on the docks, and I really wanted to say I hadn’t thought about the last thing he said to me. But in truth, I’d thought of little else. The large gaps of time between our meetings left time for that.

We were looking for him tonight. More specifically, Batman and Nightwing were. Robin and I were sent to the quiet apartment rows of Crest Hill, watching over nothing in particular. Sent to keep us away from the fray. Even Robin knew it. When Batman said we’d be patrolling here, he looked like he could rip the head off a puppy.

“Movement in Coventry.”

“On it. Thanks, Oracle.”

One of the better quirks of Damian Wayne was that in the case he was spurned by his favored allies (Bruce, Dick), he quickly formed new alliances (me, Tim). Bumbling fawn comment aside, I could tell I was in his good graces tonight by utter happenstance and Batman’s shortcomings. I was nothing if not opportunistic.

“We can get to Coventry before they can.” I said quickly, keeping the nervous excitement in my voice to a minimum. He eyed me cautiously.

“Batman may be trying not to take risks, but we can handle a couple of goons. Besides,” I added. “Red Hood will probably be gone by then. He always is.” I was overselling it; Robin was already standing, eyes roving over the city scape in search of the best route to Coventry. I stood with him, then let the free-fall adrenaline send exciting jolts through my stomach as we grappled toward our destination.

I could see him, in my mind. His face on the docks, bathed with the flame of his lighter. Hear his voice, full of purpose and noble fury as he promised revenge. I understood his cause, but didn’t understand him, and that was the mystery that poisoned my mind and stole my ability to sleep. Not Red Hood. Jason Todd.

Robin and I perched over a factory compound on the water’s edge, Sprang River’s lower fork rushing by at the end of the factory court. A handful of men moved like ants in the flooding white lights that lit the exterior. The wind distorted the sounds of their voices. Robin must have had the same thought because he moved soundlessly to a lower roof panel, advancing on the building. I followed. One man began shouting.

“I’m going to the Northern pylon.” Robin whispered. Divide and conquer. I wasn’t going to argue. I kept my eyes on his silhouetted form to ensure he didn’t encounter any resistance on his way, then worked by way around the court, hoping I could get a good idea of the place before he reached his vantage point. The sky was lightening, and we were losing time.

Just as I was about to check the lot on the opposite side of the factory, a metal door swung open, scraping against the metal parapet. Red Hood walked out, accompanied by a man in a factory jumpsuit. I couldn’t make out their conversation.

I crept along the high factory railing as they meandered across the court, deep in conversation. I kept it up for around six minutes before his companion departed, heading for the lot.

“Robin,” I whispered into my comms. “There’s a man heading toward the parking lot. Trail him.”

“I see him.”

With Robin in the Southern parking lot a safe distance away, I watched Red Hood slowly pull away from the lights and people, heading toward the darker exhaust plants East of the court. It became a struggle to keep and eye on him and my footing at the same time, but I did it. He stopped at a motorcycle parked behind an electric turbine about a klick from the factory. The sky was a pale gray now, ever-lightening with the dawn, and the shadows were burning away with it. I lowered by self behind an electrical box attached to one of the turbines.

“We’re en route- wait, Robin-“ The comms rang in my ear.

“I gave you a direct order.” Batman growled.

“It was a stupid order.” Robin clipped.

“Where’s Batgirl?”

Red was about to replace his red helm with a motorcycle helmet, but paused. He seemed to stall for a moment, before calling out.

“Come here, little bird.”

I was more annoyed than anything. I was ready to be a step ahead of him for once. But then, I couldn’t resent him for giving me what I wanted. I stood, and took in his empty hands before approaching. He’d leaned against the metal turbine, arms crossed as he regarded me with an unreadable expression.

“They’re here, you know.” I warned.

“Call ‘em, then. I won’t move. I know I’m good, but I’d be outnumbered. Bad odds.”

I scowled. “I’m not gonna do that.” I said it because he already knew it. We both did. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.

“You thought about what I said.”

“Of course I did.”

He glanced around, then pulled himself up straight and moved toward me. I took a few steps back, prompting him to flash me his empty hands, raised in surrender.

“Relax, darlin’.” He said. “You don’t need to be afraid of me. I don’t want you to be. I want you to understand.”

“How? How do I understand?” I’d been trying for a month. He pulled a small piece of paper from his jacket pocket, holding it out and letting me take it, keeping a safe, considerate distance. Inside, was a number.

“Come with me. One job. Nice and easy.” He said.

“I’m not killing anyone.” I said sternly, voice dropping.

“I’m not askin’ you to.”

“And I’m not standing by and letting you kill anyone.”

“You drive a hard bargain. Fine. We’ll do it clean.” I didn’t even know if I believed him. But I was tired of trying to understand him from a safe, considerate distance.

“We’re almost at location. Four minutes.” Nightwing’s voice almost made me jump. I lifted my eyes.

“You need to go.”

He was already turning on his heel.

It was two days before I texted him. I got a glorious three hours of sleep over the course of them, and I kept running down either respective fork in my road before turning around and running back. In the end, I subsided to the fact that I was raised by two business-women, and Jason’s offer was at worst an opportunity. If it all went to shit, and he tried to kill me, I’d at least have some information to present to Bruce, notwithstanding the lifetime of punishment that would get me.

Our rendezvous point was in Lower Gotham Proper. By the time I got there, it was midnight, and a rolling mist had blown in from the harbor, mixing with the smog that hugged the streets and making it nearly unsafe to drive. I silently hoped Batman and Robin were okay.

As I worked my way down a narrow street, the moisture in the air was choking; causing the fabric of my pants and jacket to cling to my skin. I’d almost prefer rain to the way the mist stood still, forcing me to muddle through it. It was dark. The lights and signs on surrounding buildings didn’t seem to be able to preserve through the fog.

I saw a figure pressed against a building that looked tall enough to be Jason. As I approached, we regarded each other’s forms apprehensively. When he tilted his head, I knew it was him. I drew close.

“Jesus.” I mumbled. “Could you have picked a spookier place?”

“Don’t tell me you scare easy.” He said through a cigarette. His helmet was in his hand, but it could’ve easily been mistaken for a motorcycle helmet. The whole get-up was kind of biker-esque. I didn’t answer. Just glanced around.

“Come on.” He said. “It’s not far.”

As we began walking, it struck me how much more relieved I felt to hear his footsteps alongside my own. I was capable; willing and able to fight just about anyone Gotham could conjure up. But still, walking with him was comforting. Like I had someone to watch my back.

We even eased into a bit of conversation. Small things- things we agreed upon. Rich society, and Gotham’s war on the poor. Politicians we wouldn’t mind going missing. If you had showed me his picture next his crime scenes, I wouldn’t have pinned him.

Jason wasn’t unpleasant; it was just that his disposition was highly aloof and somewhat irritable. He had rich bronze skin, and full lips that I was sure made for a charming smile when he decided to do so (not a grin, a smile). The composition of his face was very sharp and neatly symmetrical, but still held some gaunt exhaustion, revealed by the constant tense of his jaw. His attentive dark eyes were almost always narrowed in some fashion of distaste. He never once looked at peace.

It seemed to me that he was disinterested in most anything having to do with my life, other than that he wanted me with him. His entire being was an oxymoron; a juxtaposition of unexpectedly soft and startlingly sharp and there wasn’t a way to tell which it would be.

Finally, we approached a small, industrial building with a neon sign of red, blue, and green.

The Lion’s Den

Burlesque and Drag

I raised my eyebrows. A bit on the nose if you asked me. If the name didn’t give it away, the posters and marquees adorning the brick exterior did.

“We need to talk to someone here before we go.” Jason said, pulling on his helmet, and unzipping his brown leather jacket to showcase the bat.

“Lead on.” I said, pulling up my own mask.

The music was so loud, I could barely hear myself think. The led lights lining the ceiling were cycling warm colors; red, pink, orange, yellow, the glow burning through the smokescreen that was nearly as thick as the mist outside.

Women were dancing, in lace or topless, spinning on poles and otherwise moving gracefully to the heartbeat of the place. But that wasn’t the main event- a stage lit with marquee lights, the centerpiece of which was a table, where three women sat. Their outfits were something out of Marie Antoinette’s personal wardrobe. And that’s where Red Hood was headed.

We walked up onto the stage, and while it all sort of mingled with the dim neon in the rest of the building, I still felt oddly seen. I placed myself behind Red Hood, inserted between him and one of the women. They appeared to be playing cards.

“Well, well.” Said one of the queens, with blonde hair curled and blown out like something out of the 70’s. Her exaggerated, colorful makeup was a work of art- Picasso, perhaps. “Gonna stick around for the show this time, sugar?”

Red sat down, leaning so that his arm rested along the back of the chair, lights glinting off his helm. His relaxed composure made me nervous- but perhaps it was the lack of information.

“Not this time, Trixy.” He answered.

“Pity,” Said the broad redhead beside me, her voice a low, soothing timber. “You neva’ do.”

“Don’t be rude, Sasha.” The third woman scolded, throwing down an Ace of Spades, to the visible dismay of the others. “He’s a busy man.”

“Who’s your friend?” Trixy asked.

I glanced at Red Hood before answering. “Just a little bird.”

“How delightful. Let’s get down to the nitty gritty, shall we?” Trixy said. “Did Dominique get the message to ya?”

“Refresh my memory.” Red Hood said- for my sake, I’m sure.

“Bout a week ago, a bunch of girls from the Row went missin’. Ain’t unusual,” Trixy said darkly, “Most don’t got no family or nothin’. Just us lookin’ out for ‘em. When we run outta beds here, that’s when they go missin’. But it’s different this time. Buncha girls all at once- including one ‘a the queens.”

“Tiffany Spice.” Sasha said, a solemn look on her face. “She was just comin’ into herself. Lord, I’d be devastated if somethin’ happened.”

“Some a’ the row girls been talkin’ about this real shifty fella- Baron Haus. New guy. Used to pimp out girls from the Narrows.”

“And the girls disappeared when he showed up.” I said quietly.

“Bingo.”

“How many?” Red asked.

“About eight, Tiffany included.”

“And you know where he was working from?” I inquired.

“Sha’ do. China Town. Club there called the Moonlight.”

Red Hood nodded. “Anything else me and my little bird should know?”

Trixy thought for a moment. “Baron’s got some friends in GCPD. Had some uncles in the force, or somethin’ of that nature. He’ll be missed. More dead.” She spit the term bitterly.

“They always are.” He responded, getting up from his chair.

“And Hoodie, sugar!” She called after us. “You’re a doll for this.” He didn’t reply. As we worked our way back toward the front, he spoke quietly.

“I thought it’d be better if you met ‘em yourself. Always makes it more personal.”

Batman never did that.

“Do you always make it personal?” I asked.

“It’s not fun if it isn’t.”

The freezing moisture in the air bit fiercely as we pushed open the metal screen door.

“Right.” I said. “So, the Moonlight. How are we getting there?”

“How do you think?” He said, stopping short of a rusted yellow fire escape on the side of the building. He surveyed it, then looked at me.

“Race ya.”

With surprising speed and grace, he scaled the fire escape, no sound in his wake.

“Oh, it’s on.” I fired, rushing to the bars and climbing like they were monkey bars. He disappeared over the edge of the roof, and as I made my way up, I saw him several years away, already conquering another building. I raced toward him, leaping over exhaust pipes until we were high above the fog. The city below looked like an illuminated ocean, twinkling lights just below a pillowy white surface.

I felt like a child again, overwhelmed, nearly brought to giddiness with excitement. Was this how Bruce felt, scaling rooftops with Catwoman? The small, but sure thrill of consorting with the bad guy- knowing that they were consorting with you in return?

I wasn’t a sidekick. There was no line to fall into. No predecessors, no successors, no beginning and no end. I moved like Batgirl across the shingles and concrete and metal scaffolding, but I was weightless without the Bat legacy on my chest. There was something deeply, shamefully freeing about that.

We were greeted differently in the Moonlight; a stark contrast to the warm welcome by the queens in the Lion’s Den. It was set up more like a smoky, refined gentlemen’s club. We drew attention from every walk of life inhabiting the bar- men in suits, women in silk, and slimy looking characters that grated offensively against the debonair theme.

Most leered for a moment, then cast their eyes away, like they’d seen something they shouldn’t have. Maybe you could consider Red Hood one of those such things.

“Mr. Hood!” There came a voice, cutting above the orchestral music- Nessun Dorma, if my musical sensibilities were still honed from my piano lesson days. “Welcome, welcome. I can only hope,” The man gave gritting smile, wound tight with visible anxiety. “That you’re here on peaceful business tonight.” He cast his nervous, monolid eyes to me. He was handsome, no older than thirty and wore a tight black vest. I didn’t let my body language give anything away; frankly, I was as in the dark as he was.

“Oh, you know me, Baron Jun,” Red Hood drawled, slowing to a halt at the bar, and leaning on it. “I don’t decide whether things stay peaceful or not. That depends on you.” I stayed standing, near his back, studying the security. Two lumbering men at the entrance, one behind Baron Jun. I wouldn’t put it past curvaceous bartender in red to have a gun, too.

“Lookin’ for Baron Haus. I heard a little rumor he works outta this quaint establishment now.”

When I’d considered the Red Hood’s contacts before, I pictured something like Batman’s relationship with Commissioner Gordon- figuring he had to have some corrupt cops or lowlife sleuths packing him with all his vast information. I never would have guessed it would be three drag queens playing cards.

A conflict passed over Baron Jun’s face, seconds long. “You… heard correctly. Word does seem to travel fast.”

“I need to pay him a visit. Remind him about some of my rules.” He admonished. It was a dripping warning, like the salivating jaws of an animal, teeth bared and pointed.

Baron Jun swallowed. “I see. Well, he um- he’s not actually here, at the moment. Maybe I can tell him you dropped b-“

“You know, Jun,” Red continued, ignoring him. “I got this really funny feeling you know what rules I’m talkin’ about.”

The look on his face was something to behold. I’d seen fear, briefly, on the faces of criminals before I subdued them and went on my way. But this was different. Fear induced by nothing but a conversation. Call it hive-mind, a power trip perhaps, but I felt this pesky sense of camaraderie that prompted me to take a few steps forward, shoulder to shoulder with Red Hood. Who was this vile little shitstain who made his living off men getting laid to play games with us? I thought about eight women, scared and abused. It was Baron Jun’s fault. Baron Haus’ fault. Everyone in this stupid bar, decorated to the taste of the men who abused them.

Baron Jun’s eyes dashed back and forth. Deny or ask forgiveness? I could see him running down those cross roads.

“He… he’s been running some shit I didn’t know about until last night. I swear I didn’t fuckin’ know.” He broke at last.

“Where are they?” I piped up.

“Who the fuck are-“ He was cut off with a bang and a scream as Red shot his knee. I was startled by the noise, but no one seemed to notice. It rang in my ear.

Give a girl a warning next time.

“Be. Fucking. Polite.” Red snapped, now advancing on the Baron. Only one of the three security guards decided it was worth the risk and stepped forward. Electric with the building energy of the whole night, I bolted forward and swung my fist into his throat. He made a choked noise and stumbled to the ground.

“Answer the question, Jun.” Red continued, this time in a taunting, sing-song tone.

“Oh, fuck,” Jun whimpered, cradling his knee. “Jesus- you- you shot me.”

“Always were a sharp one. I got a couple more bullets, and you’ve got another knee. So why don’t you sing before I get really impatient.”

“Christ.. they- they’re in the back. R-room fourteen.” His breath was labored with pain. I didn’t feel bad. Trusting that Red would handle the front and keep his promise of not killing anyone, I went to the back hallway, counting the doorways before reaching room 14. I made short work of the lock.

Some scuffling noises could be heard from the front room- but no further gunfire. I opened the door to reveal a velvet lounge, with red settees and satin curtains, along with fearful eyes looking back at me. I counted eight heads, including Tiffany Spice, who’d since abandoned his wig and gaudy attire. His make-up was streaked with long-dried tears.

“Tiffany Spice?” I asked, subservient to standard protocol despite my evening of rebellion.

“What’s going on out there?”

“Trixy sent us. You’re safe now.”

“Are the Barons gone?”

“They’re being dealt with.” I answered.

After finding them, the rest fell into place quickly. Red had indulged in some property destruction, and Baron Jun now reckoned with what appeared to be a shattered hand and some extra facial bruising.

I nodded briskly to Red and he, in turn, nodded to the bartender, who ushered the girls around.

Before departure, he knelt down in front of the Baron.

“You’re alive,” He said lowly. “Cause I’m doin’ someone a favor. If someone breaks the rules again,” He reached over and patted Jun��s pained face. “You be a good boy and come right to me. Okay?” Jun didn’t respond, nor take his bloodshot eyes off of his mangled hand, but Red straightened anyway and ushered me to the door.

Outside, we withdrew safely and quietly to a rooftop.

“Why did we leave them?” I asked.

“Trixy’s not my only contact. The bartender’s mine. She’ll get ‘em where they need to be.”

A beat.

“You knew Baron Haus wasn’t gonna be there.” I said quietly.

“Yeah.”

“That’s the only reason you promised me you wouldn’t kill anyone.”

Hesitation. “Yeah, it is.”

“Are you gonna track him down?” I asked. He didn’t answer. “Seriously.” I tried again. He sighed, then looked at me. I was seeing his eyes clearly for maybe the first time all night. It was sobering, and he held my gaze.

“Yes. Yes, I’m going to kill him.” He said firmly. I looked away.

“He’s got a track record.” He explained. “Does shit like this, gets caught, and then uses his friends in blue to get a lighter sentence. Three months, maybe. Then, he’s back. I’m not the first one to catch him. But I promise you, I’ll be the fuckin’ last.” His vitriol was oil on concrete, and I decided it was better not to light any matches. The rest of the walk was quiet, neither of us making the catalytic initiative to part ways, coming down from the adrenaline the way we’d built it; in each other’s uncertain company.

We settled on top of St. Luke’s Hospital, towering defiantly amidst the smaller, crowded inner city neighborhoods below. It was 4am, but I wasn’t tired. Quite the opposite; I was awash with energy, by grace of the night’s feat and the biting cold. Jason had pulled his helmet off, and was leaning against the steel exhaust pipe, myself nestled at his side.

“I have another place I need to go. Three days- Mafia business in Little Italy.” He said.

“And you want me to come?” I asked. He tipped his head.

“What can I say, doll? You’re good at this.”

I looked over the city, brow furrowing.

“Unless,” He added in a low voice, wry and challenging. “You think it’s wrong. I am the bad guy, aren’t I?”

I didn’t look at him, because I knew he was wearing a darkly arrogant expression, and I didn’t want to see it. No, there was nothing wrong about what we did tonight. Even if there was; I’d do it all again for the relief on Tiffany’s tear-streaked face.

“I’ll go.” I said. “But you have to tell me something. Honestly.” I said firmly, bringing my eyes to meet his. He cocked an eyebrow.

“Ask away.”

“Why me? Why don’t you hate me like you hate them?” Them. My family. Our family. Hate seemed a harsh word, but only after I supplied it, was I reminded of its truth. Jason studied me for a few agonizing moments, allowing only the sound of wind and distant, crying sirens.

“Carolyn Crawford.” He finally said.

“What?”

Carolyn Crawford.

I’d forgotten all about her. My life was sort of divided by this giant, barbed wire fence between before adoption and after adoption. Evidently, my brain decided that anything before adoption would be better of folded up, sealed with wax, and filed away. Traumatic memory suppression, the shrink Bruce sent me to called it- even though the only traumatic thing was the night my parents died, not everything that came before.

Nonetheless, Carolyn Crawford was somebody I hadn’t given any particular thought to in a long time. She was a woman of forty (at the time I was thirteen), and she had that snooty, Diamond District disposition that you only find in women who marry into wealth, but aren’t born with it. She was beautiful; pale skin, thin, with an air of 1950’s suave, accentuated by the auburn bob of artificial curls she always wore. Her husband was an investor in Wayne Enterprises, and she was sleeping with Bruce.

I had no reason to know, or care about this. But Jason did. When he found out, he was uncharacteristically devastated. I could imagine, in retrospect, that when you’re a boy of fifteen and you find out the man who adopted you- a man who was a holyfigure in your eyes, the good guy- was sleeping with a married woman ten years his senior, you may experience a bit of devastation. He had something, some virtuous perception of Bruce, ripped away from him, and he was given a concept that his father, too, had vices. His one vice; women.

Jason was angry. He wanted the world’s perception of Bruce to crumble alongside his own, and so he took all the valor in his teenage body and enacted his own justice.

An anonymous email was sent to just about every company partner or investor, including Carolyn’s husband, and my parents, disclosing a picture of Bruce in some secluded room at a gala, with his arm around Carolyn’s waist, leaning intimately into her ear. She had a wry smile on her face. Above the photo was a single tag line.

“Carolyn Crawford is fucking Bruce Wayne.”

My parents gossiped about the email, of course, when they thought I wasn’t leaning against the office door. But that was all I ever knew about it. Apparently Carolyn’s husband didn’t divorce her, but he did cut her off financially, which may as well have been the same loss.

That was all I heard of it, up until a charity event on a particularly cold January night. The January before Jason’s death. I was waltzing around as per usual, a cup of punch in my hand. Waiting for the clock to tick its way to eleven o’clock- when I knew my mothers would want to depart so they could get up for work the next morning. The music was lovely; fluttering strings.

“You!” It was a harsh sound, like a shrieking banshee, or the whining note of a violin when all the bow hairs are frayed.

Carolyn Crawford was marching right toward Jason, fury on her beautiful face. I didn’t catch the beginning of the conversation as I tried to make my way through the bodies, of which a few were also alarmed by the sound.

“...you’re the only one who could’ve done it, you little- don’t lie to me!”

Jason was defiant there, with his arms crossed and his lip slightly raised, but I could tell by the nervous look in his eye that she was pointing her bony finger at the right suspect. I’m certain it was Bruce who figured it out.

“What the hell are you talking about, lady?” He said.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. I know you sent that email. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“You’re outta your mind.”

“You’re going to regret this, I promise. I’m going to make sure that this follows you-“

“He didn’t send the email!” I said, pushing past a man who was eagerly watching, like it was the best thing he’d seen all night. I’m not even sure what possessed me to offer up the statement- maybe the way she was throwing her venom in his face and jabbing her finger at his chest.

“I did it.” I said. I didn’t look at Jason, but from the corner of my eye, I could see his mouth fall open. Carolyn Crawford turned on me.

“What?”

“I sent the email.” I said. We’d drawn more observers now, a small, hushed crowd of people too polite to intervene, but too curious to look away.

“Who the hell are you? And why would you do that?” Up close, I could see that she looked like she hadn’t slept. Other little things too; a pearl out place, stray hairs. She’d probably been through hell since Jason sent that email.

I leveled my gaze on her. “You really need to ask? What kind of wife-“

Slap.

Her open palm swung across my cheek so hard that I nearly stumbled into a donation table. There was a pressure in my ear, and then a stinging sensation. I put my hand to my cheek, and when I looked back up at her, she was eyeing the shocked crowd. Then, she turned, and walked briskly toward the exit, heels clicking on the marble.

Everyone stood there, looking at me. I flushed, shrinking under the weight of their eyes, feeling like an animal in a zoo. My mothers were nowhere to be found, and neither was Bruce.

In a swift movement, Jason grabbed my hand, shooting angry glares like daggers toward anyone who was looking, and ushered me into a secluded corner.

“Why did you do that? What the hell is wrong with you?” He whispered frantically, obviously battling whether he should touch my face or not. He decided not.

I gave him an insulted look. “I was helping you, jackass!”

“Well, you didn’t help!” He said, before adding, more exasperatedly. “You just got hurt.”

I shrugged, taking my hand off my cheek, probably to show him some modicum of strength, or defiance. “It’s not that bad.”

It was that bad. It was the first time I had ever been hit, by anybody. I actually wanted to cry. But I was dedicated to my tough girl role, so I didn’t.

“I’m sorry.” He said, surprising me with the fearful apologeticism in his voice. “I’m really sorry- you shouldn’t have done that. I should’ve said something. I just fuckin’ stood there like-“

“Hey! It’s okay. I did it because I wanted to. Besides, it really doesn’t matter who did what. She’s just mad she ruined her own marriage.”

He shook his head and slunk down beside me on the cold marble. The AC was offensively imposing for the middle of January, and I hugged my knees to my chest as we watched the guests disperse, dragging back the events of the night to gossip about later, like foxes carry prized rabbits.

“Carolyn Crawford?” I repeated. “That’s what this is about?”

Jason gave me a wiry look, a lopsided smile, then threw his head back and laughed, contagiously so. I let out a disbelieving chuckle.

“I mean,” He added, “Not all of it. A little.” There was residual laughter in his tone, and it made me want to lean into him.

“A ‘little’. Okay. Should I be getting in touch with Carolyn Crawford and thanking her for rekindling this little partnership?”

“Yeah.” He said. “Send her an email.”

I laughed again. “Seriously, Jason, what the fuck are you talking about?”

His grin lingered, and his eyes fell over the city. I could see the gears turning as he considered his response. Then he just shrugged.

“You covered for me.”

“Yeah.”

“And...” He leaned back, not taking his eyes from the sprawling lights. “Somethin’ tells me you still are.”

I looked at him for a while, trying to wait him out and make him elaborate. But he didn’t. I resigned with a sigh.

“Yeah, well.” I mumbled. “Carolyn Crawford was a giant bitch.” His lips fought a losing battle against another smile.

“Personally, I’m still a little impressed she had the gall to slap you.”

“Haha. Hey- did you actually take that picture?”

He shook his head, hesitating before adding. “Dick did.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” He chuckled.

“So I took the fall for both of you.”

“Yeah, you did, Princess.”

He had this familiar, juvenile grin stuck to his face. And for the first time in a long, long time, he was Jason Todd.

145 notes · View notes

hecticcheer · 3 years

Text

Hyponatremia (unfinished T/M/A fic)

Fiveish months ago I tried to write a fic based on this scenario post I made. I’m super definitely never gonna finish it, and, it just kinda trails off at the end? Also it’s very rough. Features some American measurements in brackets that I’m too lazy to convert, if that gives you an idea. But I figured I’d post it anyway on one-slice-of-cake>no-cake principle.

As for the plot... uh. Jon has a headache; Martin tries to help, but makes it worse. For *checks notes* ~4200 words. If it has one saving grace, it’s that you can mmmmostly understand it without prior knowledge of T/M/A? Long as you know Martin’s living in the Archives to hide from an evil worm monster, you should be good.

As usual, Jon was the first person to join Martin down in the Archives that morning, sometime between seven and eight. And, no more unusually, Martin had twelve-plus hours of nervous energy to work off, and nobody to shed it on but his boss. “Morning. Sleep well? Tim said you still had some work to do when we left for the pub, but I didn’t see you when I got back so you can’t have made too late a night of it.” (Jon shook his head.) “Shame you couldn’t join us, by the way. Elena and Clarisse and them destroyed us on geography, and Sasha says you’re pretty good on maps and that. Maybe you could’ve saved us.”

“Doubt it,” said Jon. Martin waited for him to add more to that thought, but instead he just sort of stood there. Pinched one nostril shut and inhaled experimentally through the other. Trying to figure out which one was clogged, maybe? Tim said Jon’d said he had a headache; maybe it was a sinus thing. Not that this was exactly reliable intel. On pub-quiz Wednesday Tim always regaled him and Sasha with Jon’s latest excuses not to join them. They were always bad, but some were so bad Martin suspected they weren’t so much Jon’s lies as Tim’s lies about Jon’s lies. Probably not a great idea to mention this one, then. He’d stick to the first excuse Jon had allegedly given:

“Did you finish what you were working on?”

Jon closed his eyes, for a bit longer than the average blink, but not long enough to count as a proper wince. “Not even close.”

“Oh. What… was it?”

“Cabinet of statements from 2003. Or at least, nominally from 2003, though by my count less than a third of them actually date from that year.”

“Yikes. Need any help? Extra pair of hands, or.”

“Not right now.”

“2003,” Martin mused—“are you still looking for Mr. McKenzie’s statement?”

A short, but hearty sigh. Enunciated, practically. He didn’t open his mouth until afterward, but Martin could see his nostrils flare around it. “No. Three days ago, when I started to look through the cabinets marked 2003, I was looking for Mr. McKenzie’s statement. Now I just want to find out which statements in there I can’t send straight to the discredited section.”

Jon stood in the open doorway to his office by this point, hand on the knob as if to remind Martin of his eagerness to close it behind him. Even so Martin tried to peer past him into the office, looking for a discard pile of statements he might offer to shuttle away himself. This was pretty hard to do surreptitiously, though. He’d hoped his eyes would land at once on the tallest pile, at which time he could point to it and say, Are those the discredited ones, then? But from his vantage point all the piles on Jon’s desk seemed taller than usual.

“Right,” Martin said instead; “good luck.” He smiled weakly and returned his gaze to Jon, meaning to restore eye contact before he remembered how seldom Jon looked at people’s faces anyway. At this moment both his eyes were covered by the hand not on the doorknob. It would’ve been weird, he figured, to just duck out now while Jon couldn’t even see him, so Martin told himself to wait until he opened his eyes and only then back off.

But then Jon just stayed like that, for ages, with his fingers on one temple and his thumb on the other, blocking all possibility of sight. Eventually Martin felt like he had no choice but to say, “Are you alright?—or, I mean, how’s your head, by the way? Tim said….”

“It’s fine.”

“Ssssso it—doesn’t still hurt, then?”

“I’m fine, Martin. Thank you,” Jon said, but in one of the least thankful-sounding tones of voice he had. And then he closed the door, without even waiting for Martin to back up.

—

“Thought you might like coffee this morning instead of tea. It’s got more caffeine, and, that’s supposed to help, right? Plus I remembered what you said on your birthday about tea having tannins just like wine does. Of course, for all I know coffee might too—”

“It does.”

“Oh. Well… maybe the caffeine’ll cancel it out and you’ll break even? Or, I don’t know, maybe if you already have a headache they can’t trigger one.”

Jon’s answering Hm sounded pessimistic. Sure enough, as soon as Martin had finished his sentence he said, “I’m not that lucky.”

“Probably not,” Martin agreed with a laugh. “Still, least it’s hydration. Though caffeine’s a diuretic, so if I recall correctly you only get about half, volume-wise. That mug’s about… [twelve ounces,] I’d say? So it probably counts as about [six toward your sixty-four].”

“Yes, yes,” replied Jon, picking up his bottle of water and shaking it. When he set it down again, one look confirmed what Martin had suspected from the sound it made—it was nearly empty.

“Oh hey, look at that! Looks like you’re doing a pretty good job even without…” he trailed off, realizing too late that the most logical end to that sentence was my help, and that that was a pretty pompous way to refer to a coffee he was pretty sure Jon didn’t even want. So instead he said, “I’ll go refill that for you.” And before Jon could look up Martin scurried off to the break room with it.

The water dispenser should’ve been changed yesterday. When the water got this low it took ages to fill even a mug, much less a tall bottle like this one. It startled as a trickle, and by about halfway up the bottle slowed to a glorified drip. In his mind he pleaded with the water spout not to make so much noise; promised it he’d put in a new one as soon as he’d returned Jon’s water to him, mouthed encouragements to it. Not much farther, just to the top of the M, come on, you can do it. (The bottle was an Institute freebie, with Magnus Institute inscribed on it in black-bordered green letters. Martin had one just like it somewhere in his flat. Worm bait now, he supposed.)

By the time he brought it back Jon’s eyes were on the statement in his hands. Skimming, by the looks of it, rather than either actually reading or pretending to.

Martin endeavored to set down his refilled water audibly, but not painfully loudly. But Jon’s answering “Thank you” took him so much by surprise that at the last moment his wrist jerked and the bottle fell over.

“Ah! Sorry, sorry.” It had a lid, so, not an actual disaster? Jon did snarl at him though, or at least at the noise. His hands flew up as if to cover his ears, but he seemed to reject that idea halfway through. Just closed his fists around thin air, then leant his temple on one of them and sighed through his nose. “Sorry,” Martin said again. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Jon’s emphatic blink seemed to stand in for a nod.

“Anyway, here’s a further [sixteen ounces] for you, looks like, or thereabouts,” ventured Martin, patting the side of the water bottle with one hand while holding it down with the other so it definitely wouldn’t topple again. “I’ll just leave you to it then.”

“Mm.”

“Good luck.”

—

After his stunt with the water bottle Martin had too much distrusted himself to risk making another big noise with the door, so he’d left it with its tongue sticking out rather than latching it. This meant he made almost no sound when he entered again. The first thing he noticed was that the water in Jon’s bottle still reached the top of the M. It still sat in the same place, too—not out of Jon’s reach but far enough away (Martin had told himself at the time) not to seem an imposition on his space. Almost definitely not where one would set it if one intended to pick it up again soon. His coffee seemed to have fared a bit better though. Half empty, one might say. Optimistically.

The second thing he noticed was Jon himself, who sat with his elbows on the desk, his chin on the heels of his palms, and his fingers arranged around his eyes like fence posts. Like a child peeking out at something they’re too scared to look at directly—except that his eyes were closed.

Martin snuck back to the other side of the door and knocked on it, gently. “Hey, uh, Jon?”

He didn’t look up, and opened his eyes for only a second before shutting them again. But he did drop his hands, threaded his fingers together and set them on the table, and bit his lip. “What, Martin.”

“Er—well, I know you said you’d given up looking for Marcus McKenzie’s statement, but I just realized I never asked if you’d thought to look in the discredited section. I mean, from what he said on the phone it didn’t sound like he took his dad’s statement all that seriously, so, maybe Gertrude put it in there, as, like, corroborating evidence that it wasn’t paranormal, and McKenzie senior’s statement just got misfiled?”

“Martin, I invented the discredited section.”

“Oh.”

“Anything else you wanted to say?”

“Oh, uh, nothing important. Just wondered if you’d like me to take that mug away.”

Instead of responding verbally, Jon picked up the mug and made what seemed a valiant effort to drink a little more of the coffee inside it. From what Martin could tell, he barely managed not to grimace in disgust.

“Do you like coffee? I’m not a big fan of it either, to be honest. Oh, well. If you can’t force that down you’ve still got plenty of water there, I see. Besides, it’ll wash out the taste.” (With an actual heh heh, which came out more like a small dog panting than like human laughter.)

Dramatic, snarly sigh from Jon. “Think I’ll pass. It seems to make it worse, if anything.”

“Oh. Sorry about that; must be those pesky tannins. I’ll just take your cup now then.”

But Jon only tightened his grip on it. “Water, I meant. The coffee’s fine. Not exactly my favorite beverage in the world, but, you were right. It’s a good idea.”

“Oh. Thanks, I’m glad you.” Martin smiled, then frowned. “Wait, water makes it worse?”

“Seems to.”

“Really? Are you sure it wasn’t just—too cold, or something.”

His laugh sounded bitter, hollow—theatrically so, in fact. A perfect Ha ha ha, except he didn’t say those words, didn’t enunciate them like Sasha sometimes did when Tim made a bad joke. He just made the exact sounds they were invented to transcribe. “No, Martin. I haven’t just been giving myself a brain freeze every time I.”

“…Right, of course not. Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” For a few silent seconds Martin picked at a notch in his thumbnail, carved there earlier this morning by a stubborn paperclip. Part of him wanted to tear the nail off and have done, but he knew it would bleed if he did. Nothing to clip it with in the Archives, obviously. “Are you sure you won’t try again? This water’s quite tepid, actually, since I got it literally from the bottom of the barrel—”

“Martin—”

“Sorry, sorry. Just thought it was worth—”

“Don’t you have something better to do.”

“Er… no, actually. Pretty much finished with everything, at the momen…t. Though if you’d like to give me another assignment I’d be happy to—yeah. Do that, for you. Or I mean, for the sake of the Archives; I don’t mean it’d just be, like, busy work. Not accusing you of that or anything.”

“Are you comfortable leaving the Archives?”

For half a second Martin heard this as a hint—an offer? a threat?—that Jon meant to have him transferred to another department. Then he wondered if Jon was hinting it was time Martin found somewhere else to live. “What, like, permanently?”

“No—just as long as it takes to track down and interview Georgie Barker about her role in the statement Ms. King gave us.”

“Oh. Yeah, I think so, uh. Thank you for asking? I mean, Prentiss said she was done with me, right. At least, me personally. And she already knows I’m here, so it’s not like.”

Jon replied shortly, “Yes.”

“I’d like to listen to Ms. King’s statement first, though, if that’s alright. What’d you say it was about? The Cambridge Military Hospital?”

Another short, emphatic, nose-directed sigh. Couldn’t be too stuffed-up then, Martin guessed. “Technically, yes, though Ms. King insists the building itself had nothing to do with it.”

“Huh. What was it about, then?”

“She alleges that a woman she hired to help film one of her ghost stories peeled the skin off her arm.”

“Oh my god! I mean, did you—was she okay? Did she show you her arm? Did it seem to have—you know—skin?”

“Her own arm, not Ms. King’s.”

“Oh.” Martin sighed for himself now, though with relief rather than exasperation. Managed a tiny laugh, as well. “Okay, well, that’s. Creepy as hell, but, not nearly as bad as.”

“Mm. Nor nearly as verifiable as your version.”

“T…rue, no, I guess not. Anyway do you have the tape? I’d like to listen myself, if that’s.”

Jon pointed to a small stack of tapes on the bookshelf to Martin’s right. Sure enough, the top one had M. King, 0161704 sharpied across the label on its side. “Ah! Found it. Thanks.” He had a tape player squirreled away already; on another day he might’ve pretended otherwise, but for the moment he was too relieved not to have to make a pest of himself by asking to borrow one to worry whether the absence of that request might make Jon suspicious.

Besides, Jon seemed pretty… absorbed in himself, this morning. By the time Martin turned to face him again one of Jon’s hands had crept back up to his face, where its fingers now seemed to comb the hairs of his left eyebrow. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Jon do that before, plus doubted the hairs in question needed his help to lie flat. Jon’s eyebrows had always struck him as quite neat. Plus Martin had tried that with his own eyebrows plenty of times before the mirror in his youth, and knew it didn’t work very well even if you licked your finger—which Martin assumed Jon hadn’t. So he figured he should file this behavior in the same box as the earlier fist-clenching-to-avoid-covering-ears thing. As, like, headache-soothing for people who don’t want to look weak. Or unprofessional, or something to that effect.

This gave him a sense of foreboding when he thought too hard about it. But Martin needed so badly to keep this job, now that his flat wasn’t safe anymore. It seemed wiser not to look directly at abstract threats like that. If he could make Jon feel better then it wouldn’t matter, right? Or at least could be put off til next time.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Don’t recall saying I was,” Jon muttered.

Martin winced. He had said he was alright—Martin was certain. When he’d first come in that morning, he’d said he was fine when Martin asked, and then he’d closed the door. Didn’t seem worth correcting him over it, though. So Martin just said, “Try to drink something while I’m gone, yeah? Kool-Aid, for all I care, just. You really don’t look like you’re feeling all that well. And any kind of drink other than alcohol should—oh.”

He looked up, hearing Jon swallow what sounded like a lot more than the tiny sip of coffee he’d managed before.

“Well. Great. Thank you for obliging me.”

Jon continued to gulp down water, while staring right at Martin. He paused in swallowing to breathe, but even then did not remove the mouth of the bottle from his own mouth. When he tried to resume drinking it made him cough instead, and even then he didn’t set it down.

“O-okay, well, I’m sure that’s plenty, don’t—?” Hurt yourself, Martin wanted to say, but feared that would sound patronizing. The bottle was more than half empty now. Jon paused for air again. “For god’s sake, Jon, stop—that looks like it hurts—you don’t have to—?”

At last he slammed the empty bottle on his desk—more loudly than could possibly be comfortable for a man with a headache. Leant his elbow on the table, and between pants huffed a laugh and said, “Care to refill it for me?”

On a sort of autopilot Martin chirped, “Uh—sure! No problem I’ll just,” and rushed off with it to the break room. This refill took much less time, since he’d remembered to change out the thingy. But it still took long enough that by the time he got back he worried, “You’re not going to chug this one too, are you?”

“No,” said Jon, eyes and hands both busy now with a statement hitherto hidden by his elbow. He did not reach out a hand to take the bottle from Martin.

“Okay, I’ll just. Leave this here then. See you after the, uh. Yeah.”

—

And lo, it was as he had feared. Chugging [sixteen ounces] of water did indeed make his headache worse. By ten it seemed to count turning the page of a statement as an exertion worth pounding over. True, by lunch time it seemed to have backed off a bit—until he sat back down at his desk with his fork and plate. On his way to the microwave he’d thought he must be on the mend: his head throbbed a little harder than when he’d been seated, but not so much he’d have noticed the difference had he not set out to pay attention to it. Some food, maybe an ibuprofen or two and he’d be fixed, he’d told himself.

Once he got to the break room, though, he noticed something else odd. His limbs were weak. His knees seemed made of jelly, and wobbled beneath him every time he shifted his weight; his arms were steady enough, but when he set down the pizza box on the counter after retrieving it from the fridge he felt a surge of relief, which he hardly understood until he’d transferred a slice from the no-onion half onto a plate and picked up the latter to put it in the microwave. Even these tiny movements made his arms, neck and chest ache like they do when you hold your breath too long. He leant his elbows against the counter and gulped down air until his mouth felt so dry he couldn’t bear to keep it open. Wondered if he should sit down; he felt a bit dizzy. But he had less than 30 seconds left to wait for the microwave, which he figured couldn’t hurt him.

It didn’t, but the walk back to his office did a bit. Moving his legs’ sluggish muscles made his whole body ache—again like it does when you run too long and have to stop for breath. He figured it must be in a similar spirit that his head waited til he’d sat down to unleash its onslaught. Before leaving his desk he’d grown used to thinking of his heart beat’s faint buzzy shocks like the second hand on a clock, criticizing him under its breath from where it watched behind his eyes. This was… a great deal worse than that. He tried to time the beats against the ticking of his wrist watch, but couldn’t seem to focus on that and breathe at the same time. They were fast, though, at least at first. His heart rate did seem to calm down fairly quickly, but he could swear it never got all the way back down to its earlier rate—at least not before his attention shifted from the speed to just. How much it hurt.

Was that what made his slice of pizza so tasteless? When he cut his first bite, on its way to his mouth he thought he caught a whiff of the red onions with which its tip must have shared space, and only his horror of Tim asking What was wrong with that part, then? when he brought the otherwise-empty plate back to the sink stopped him from scraping that bite off his fork and trying again higher up the slice. But when he finally forced himself to eat it? Nothing. No onion taste, thank god, but everything else too seemed… muted. Hardly worth how the exertion of chewing made his head hammer after each swallow. Jon knew the taste of food was hardly the point of eating it, but? In the absence of everything he normally liked about cheese and meat and bread and vegetables, the fact the cheese squelched in his mouth made him wish he’d never left his bed. The way leaves of soggy spinach flapped over the sides of even his neatly-cut rectangles. His stomach tightened in revulsion, so that in his throat he could feel each swallowed lump shifting from foot to foot, waiting to be let in. Not to mention how the effort of cutting it shook the whole damn table.

He told himself he could skip the crust. If Tim asked about it, Jon’d just tell him it’d gone stale. Just get through the… other part, the crumb, the filling. Between throbs the ache in his tired jaw merged with the one behind his eyes. Why didn’t it always hurt to chew? Did the pleasure of tasting food give you enough endorphins to cancel it out? Would everyone have this problem all the time if we had to live on, say, dry toast?

Right, okay, close enough. Ibuprofen now. No, you idiot—other drawer. In the fantasy versions he’d rehearsed of this moment he clapped four of them from his palm into his mouth at once, and swallowed them dry. But his blister pack turned out to have only three left. Which was fine! Just fine. Better, probably, after so little lunch.

Also, dry-swallowing was kind of a misnomer? He’d never really thought about it before, but. Turned out it would only work if your so-called “dry” mouth had spit in it. As it was the pills stuck to his tongue, leaving streaks of spicy burnt-orange when he tried to claw them back toward his throat with his teeth. When they got far back enough on his tongue he had to concentrate not to gag, and they still stuck—even when he turned his nose to face the ceiling and thumped on his chin with his hand (which, ouch)—at that point he gave up and unscrewed his water. Allowed as little of it in his mouth as would let him swallow these damn things, and wash their stains off his tongue. And it still made his head throb harder.

Jon imagined shooting whoever next told him to stay hydrated. He derived little joy from the fantasy, though; couldn’t not think of the loud, sharp noise it would make.

Returning the plate could wait, he decided; not like it would attract worms in the thirty minutes it’d take for the pills to kick in. Meanwhile he’d just… keep sorting. He took a statement off the top of the pile in front of him and blinked at it over and over, until his vision resolved into a shape he told himself hurt marginally less than the others. 9720406, Nathaniel Thorp. Christ, 1972? “Misfiled” was practically an understatement for that one. And here he’d thought Gertrude had kept that part of the century in relative good order. Still, he stuck it on the all other years pile and reached for another. 0130111, David Laylow. Nope—still not 2003. 0002610, Jennifer Wong. 0910203, Lisa Jones. 0081711, Donald Gately. 0100912, Lawrence Mortimer. 0152101, Uzma Rashid. Ha!—0030707, Seymour… Backsides. Wait a minute. Hadn’t he seen a prank statement with that name before lunch? He grabbed a stack off the 2003 pile and found… Rashid, Mortimer, Gately. Had he switched the—? Look in the unsorted pile again, he told himself. Under where he’d found Mr. Backsides’ tale he uncovered statements 0031212, 0032504, 0031809, and so on. Great. After Seymour he must’ve got mixed up. There was no more unsorted pile—not on his desk, anyway. He’d have to pull some more out of the… open filing cabinet which stood across the room with its tongue stuck out at him. Yeah, well, that could wait too. For now he’d just. Check his email.

#a shifty tract #to be clear hyponatremia is uh. too little sodium in blood. it is the 'eat more salt' ailment #it's very common w/ dehydration so any diuretic (i.e. med that makes you pee more) can cause it?#my plan here was to have martin complain to tim and sasha that he Broke Jon and when he mentions jon said water made it worse ('god why #('didn't i just believe him?') tim as the only Sports Guy in the archives recognizes ah-ha! electrolytes!#and either get him himself or tell martin to get him some trail mix and sports drink #and have jon drag his feet since every other suggestion his coworkers have given him over the last few days of headache &c. has been Garbage #but eventually cave out of pure frustration--enjoy the taste of salty raisin and stale pretzel so much he grins til his face hurts--#and figure out it must be 'cause he switched adhd meds recently #(...tho apparently it's rare for them to have this effect BUT THEY CAN! i have two data points)#nonsearchable tma tag

15 notes · View notes

schrijverr · 4 years

Text

Cared For

Jonny is the smallest and secretly loves that fact since it gets him attention from the others. When it suddenly stops he’s crushed and cries during crew night, and gets hugged and comforted

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none, but tell me if I missed something or you want me to tag anything!

~~~~~~~~~~

Jonny was small, he knew he was small.

New Texas already didn’t have a tall planetary average and he also hadn’t had any luck with genetics, which meant that the other Mechanisms towered over him, no matter age or gender. He was the tiniest of them all and he, surprisingly enough, loved that fact.

He loved how Brian would come up from behind and grab the thing he was reaching for and hand it to him with a pat on the head, no matter how much he grumbled about it.

He loved how Ashes would use his head as a rest and lean on him always giving him a smirk, despite him complaining about it messing up his hair.

He loved how when he visited Raphaellas lab, his feet would dangle when he sat on her chair, even if he told her she was too tall to be normal and she laughed at him.

He loved how Marius randomly hugged him, enveloping him entirely, making him disappear completely if he was wearing his coat, regardless of the fact that he would tell Marius he was suffocating.

He loved how he could curl up in Ivys lap and she’d just put her chin on top of his and continue reading, sometimes even out loud if it was something Jonny would be interested in, despite him insisting he wasn’t a little kid, although he expected she’d already seen through him and knew how much he liked her soothing voice.

He loved how The Toy Soldier always called him Little Chap and ruffled his hair, no matter how much he pouted when it did.

He loved how Tim would run up to him and just pick him up in a bridal carry and take him with him to whatever destination and no matter how much Jonny complained about it, he never fought and he always smiled slightly.

He loved how Nastya, who he saw as his little sister, let him snuggle up with her in her pillow nest in the engine room. She would curl around him as the big spoon and held him tight to her chest, making Jonny glow with contentment, in spite of the wiggling.

Not that he’d ever admit it, but all these thing made him feel small and that smallness made him feel cherished, made him feel like he was special and that the others cared for him.

Which is why it came as a hug shock when it all suddenly stopped.

First he noticed that the chair had been lowered when he visited Raphaella in her lab, but she could’ve done that because she needed to be lower to observe something. And Brian, who didn’t help him get his mug, instead just looking at him until he climbed onto the counter, could be because his switch was flipped.

But then Ashes stopped leaning on him and Marius didn’t hug him anymore, Tim asked him to come with him instead of just grabbing him, The Toy Soldier called him Old Sport like it did with Brian and Marius and when he went to Nastya during the night, she turned away from him leaving him hugless or the big spoon.

Confused and hurt he needed to know if it was really everyone, so he went to Ivy. She would know what he needed from her and hug him to make him feel better. So he crawled into her lap and waited.

For a second nothing happened, but then her arms snaked around him and he couldn’t suppress a smile. He’d made the right choice. That smile fell the moment she rested her chin on his shoulder instead of on top of his head and then she’d stayed quiet despite the book being about different guns, which was definitely an interest of Jonny.

He didn’t know what to do with that. Inside him a bubble of unease started to swell as he wondered what he’d done wrong. Did they not love him anymore? Were they mad at him? How could he fix it?

Miserable he burrowed closer in Ivys lap, but didn’t say a thing as he tried not to let the overwhelming feeling make him cry, which was pretty hard.

When he’d calmed down a bit, enough to realize that this was just making him sadder and he needed to cry alone in his bed, he untangled himself and softly said goodbye, completely missing Ivys gentle smile as he rushed out of the library.

Safely in his room he pulled the blanket over him and curled into a ball, soft sniffles and chocked off sobs coming out of his throat while he convinced himself that everyone hated him and he’d done something irredeemable.

He stayed in his room for a long while, until he could think of the sudden change without feeling the need to immediately cry. Then he took a shower and tried to get rid of all the evidence that he’d been crying.

While he’d been crying his eyes out in his room he’d made a plan and he had to get to work if he wanted it to succeed. The plan was quite simple, he would subtly try to get the affection back by hinting at it.

The first person he came across was Marius, who was leaning against the kitchen counter with a drink. He smiled at Jonny and asked: “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Good, just tired.” Jonny didn’t even have to fake the yawn. He stumbled forwards and leaned against Marius’ chest as he mumbled: “Could just fall asleep here.”

His hope had been that Marius would steady him, maybe even with two hands and that might turn into a hug. It didn’t work completely.

Marius put one hand on his shoulder to keep him from sagging, but did nothing more than lead him back to his room with some distance between them while he said: “I think you need to go to bed then, Jonny.”

Jonny was pouting inside and missed the warm, fond tone. He allowed Marius to push him into his room and collapsed on his bed, just lying there until he heard Marius close the door with a small chuckle.

Later he would run into Tim, deliberately planned since he’d just shot himself in the foot, and ask if he would be willing to bring him to the med bay. Tim had wide eyes of concern as he nodded, but he did not carry Jonny instead hoisting one arm over his shoulder and letting Jonny lean on him awkwardly as they made their way through the ship.

He sat on Raphaellas desk instead of the chair waiting to see if she’d make a playful comment about his feet, but instead she told him he needed to sit on the chair, because she needed the space.

Brian was wiling to grab something for him, but only after he’d asked and moved out of the way and The Toy Soldier could be persuaded to pet his head after he’d gotten something stuck in his hair and asked it to get it out. Jonny was also still welcome in Nastyas pillow nest and he could just curl up against her back and she wouldn’t protest.

Jonny didn’t really have a plan for Ashes and he thought straight up asking Ivy to read to him was a step too far, so he just brought something to fiddle with and tried not to mind the chin on his shoulder too much.

Still, it wasn’t working and he felt his mechanical heart break with every little rejection.

It’d been months now and it was getting increasingly harder not to cry every time he wasn’t hugged, wasn’t carried, wasn’t petted on the head, just every time he wasn’t loved. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong or how to fix it and the lack of affection was wearing him down.

The bubble of wrongness was building up in his chest and it was only a matter of time until it burst and every little bit of sadness came popping out.

It happened during crew night, something Brian had implemented after he’d been stuck to his chair for a month and no one had noticed, it was just a check up to see if everyone was still there and to fuck around a bit.

Jonny had been looking forward to crew night, hoping that whatever he’d done would’ve been forgiven and he could wiggle between Brian and Raphaella, the two tallest members, unlike last time when he’d ended up on the floor next to Tim.

Alas it wasn’t meant to be, he was too late and there wasn’t any room left between the two of them. There still was a small spot between Marius and the edge of the couch, though, which was still pretty damn good.

Marius was tall enough and the space was so small that it was only natural if Jonny leaned on him a bit and who knew, maybe Marius would put an arm around Jonny to make some space and he could burrow into Marius’ armpit.

But when Jonny had wiggled himself into the spot, Marius told him: “We can also grab you a chair, if you’d like.”

And suddenly Jonny just couldn’t take it anymore. He made eye contact with Marius, his bottom lip wobbling before his face crumbled as he started crying, loud and ugly sobs, shocking everyone.

For a second everyone was frozen then they all rushed to their crying First Mate. Brian knelt in front of him and softly touched Jonnys knee and asked: “Hey, hey, Jonny, it’s okay, everything is alright, just breathe, just breathe, okay. Can you tell us what’s wrong?”

Jonny gasped and took a few shaky breaths, but he fell apart again in a blubbering mess when he wanted tot tell them. He sniffled: “I- I just- why- don’t under- understand- what-”

“Hey, just calm down.” Marius soothed, “What don’t you understand?”

“Why you all don’t love me anymore.” Jonny cried, sobbing loudly again and hugging his knees to his chest.

A stunned silence came over the crew of the Aurora then they all fell over themselves to assure him that of course they still loved him. Concerned Tim exclaimed: “Where in the universe did you get that idea?”

Jonny had calmed down a bit with all their reassurances and glanced at them over his knees, his eyes still wet and soft sniffles coming out of his mouth. He swallowed and said: “You all just suddenly stop- stopped and I don’t- I don’t know what I, what I did or how- how to fix it.”

That didn’t clear anything up at all and Raphaella asked: “What did we stop?”

Biting his lips, Jonny considered not telling them, he’d spend so long grumbling at them about it that I’d would seem weird to just completely turn around, but the empty void in his chest won out. So he whispered: “You all stopped treating me like- like I was small and precious.”

“What?” Ashes said.

“Uhm,” Jonny began embarrassed, “you all just had these little things that made me feel small and suddenly you all sto- stopped.”

His voice broke over the last part and the tears started flowing again. He hated that he was crying so much, but it had all just built up and he couldn’t stop it no matter how hard he tried.

On the others the realization dawned of what was up with their crew mate. They hadn’t really noticed how upset he’d gotten over it and the outburst had shocked them a bit, so they were glad they’d gotten something to fix. Marius immediately took him into his arms and The Toy Soldier patted his head.

“We’re so sorry, Jonny.” Brian said, “We thought we were helping you.”

That got Jonnys attention and he made a confused questioning noise. Tim explained: “You’re always grumbling about it, so when we noticed it was all of us not just one person, we thought you didn’t like it, so we decided to stop. We wouldn’t have done it, if we knew.”

“It’s not your- your fault.” Jonny mumbled into Marius’ chest, “Sorry for seeming un- ungrateful.”

The arms around him tightened around him and Marius said: “Don’t be sorry about that, we should’ve asked.”

They stayed like that for a while until the sniffles stopped and the tears ran dry.

With Jonny calmed down Raphaella asked the question that she’d been burning to ask ever since he admitted what was wrong: “Why do you like feeling small so much?”

Jonny flushed an adorable shade of red, he spluttered for a bit, before he softly replied: “It makes me feel special and cared for, it’s nice.”

Under other circumstances Jonny would never had admitted that, but emotional exhaustion had lowered his barriers and a voice inside his mind urged him to tell them anything to get them to do the nice things again.

“Ahw, you’re the cutest.” Tim cooed and also hugged Jonny.

He got redder, but that didn’t stop him from leaning into the touch and allowing a smile to creep up his face.

They stayed on the couch just hugging and reassuring Jonny the entire night. Everyone had been pretty spooked by his reaction, they’d never seen him as anything else than strong and happy, so to see him break down like that had shook them to their core. So they lavished him with attention in the hope of never having to witness that again.

Marius didn’t think he would ever forget Jonnys face crumbling at his suggestion or the feeling of him sobbing against his side.

Jonny was always small, with a pudgy face that hadn’t rid itself of all the baby fat yet and a cute smile. The crew of the Aurora had long ago decided that he was their little bastard that needed to be protected. It had been hard to stop and it had been even harder to find out how it had impacted Jonny.

It wasn’t mentioned again, but the other resumed everything even adding a some new stuff. It became more common to see Jonny being carried, for someone to ruffle his hair or to swing him up into a hug out of nowhere startling him or to see him in a lap instead of on a chair.

He’d stopped grumbling about it, allowing a smile on his face instead. It was small smile, but a content and happy smile that made it all worth it.

Yes, Jonny was small, he knew he was small, but with a crew like this how much of a problem is that?

#RR writing #the mechanisms #the mechs #jonny d'ville #tiny jony d'ville #gunpowder tim #ashes o'reilly #drumbot brian #marius von raum #raphaella la cognizi #ivy alexandria #the toy soldier #nastya rasputina

69 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Girl I Met On The Internet, 4/? (Crystal x Gigi) - Strawberry

Summary: Gigi and Crystal discuss things in person. Elites Only also gains a new member.

As soon as Crystal realized what was happening, she exited the Twitter app. The girl she had been talking to for months, the girl she had shared so many things with was Georgina Goode, who happened to be best friends with the girl who hated Crystal for no reason, because of course this would happen to Crystal.

Crystal’s mind was racing, her brain instantly jumping to the worse case scenarios. Did Gigi know she was talking to Crystal this entire time? Was this entire thing just a ploy orchestrated by Dahlia to get dirt on her? Georgina was not gay, but Gigi was. Did Gigi even like her, or was Crystal just an experiment that no one would ever find out about because it was over the internet? She knew none of these theories made sense, she didn’t think Gigi had any idea who she was until now.

Gigi was freaking out. She had messaged Crystal, attempting to explain herself, but she had gotten no reply. Crystal hadn’t even read them. Panicking, she messaged Jan, hoping she would be online.

gigi: jan oh my fuckigng

jan!: WHAT HAPPENED? ARE YALL GFS??

gigi: …no

jan!: and why is that?

gigi: she literally goes to my school she sent me a selfie and i sent one back without saying that we’re irls and she just said what the fuck and now she wont message me back

gigi: i know u don’t like how rude dahlia is so im sorry i have to mention her but she’s literally the girl dahlia picks on for no reason i didn’t even know her name was crystal

jan!: W H A T

gigi: what do i do

jan!: girl like i know?? this doesn’t usually happen to people.

jan!: when do you usually see crystal

gigi: i see her in the halls sometimes. she told me before that she stays mostly in the art wing tho

jan!: ok. tomorrow go to the art wing and find her. talk to her. she’s probably not responding bc im sure it’s not a good feeling to find out the girl she’s been flirting with for months is best friends with the girl bullying her

gigi: god i feel so bad about that. i only stopped it once and i feel so bad

jan!: i love you but you’re a fucking idiot, gigi. you really are. go talk to her tomorrow and do better.

The next morning arrived faster than Crystal wanted it to. She was dreading going to school, knowing she couldn’t avoid Gigi forever. Thankfully, they did not have any classes together, but crossing paths was inevitable. The thought of seeing Gigi, even from across a crowded hallway, made her want to sob.

Her stomach started hurting because of her anxiety, but convincing her mother to let her stay home didn’t go over well. Crystal had convinced her mother at first, but as soon as she felt Crystal’s forehead to see if Crystal was running a temperature, which she wasn’t, she had insisted that Crystal stop pretending and get ready for school. She even drove Crystal to school instead of having her walk to make sure Crystal didn’t skip.

Crystal walked straight to the bathroom in the art wing. It was smaller, with only two stalls and the cell service was terrible; but it was vacant for the most part. She often stayed there when she wanted to skip class, and the only person she had ever encountered was Aiden, a shy girl from her art class. If Gigi was looking for her, this bathroom would be the last place she would look.

She had spent the morning sketching and listening to One Direction. She was in the zone, barely noticing when the door opened. Crystal didn’t bother looking up when she felt someone’s presence there, assuming that it was Aiden. “Hey, Aiden.”

“Uh,” Gigi started, “Crystal?”

Crystal’s head shot up, her eyes wide as she looked at a very relieved looking Gigi. “Oh, shit. Hey.”

Gigi walks over to her, kneeling down to be at the same height as Crystal. “I know you’re probably upset with me, but can we talk? Please? I’ve been looking for you all period.”

Crystal nodded, moving her backpack to make a spot for Gigi to sit down. “Sorry I said what the fuck and dipped, I really didn’t know what else to do.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m going to sound like such a bitch but I didn’t even know your name until last night.” Gigi had never been good with names, only being able to remember her online friends’ names in the beginning because their name was attached to everything they did. Crystal had been known to Gigi as ‘Art Girl’ until last night.

Crystal had to laugh at that. “It’s fine. I don’t think Dahlia knows what my name is either, and I’ve lived in her mind rent free for years!”

“Speaking of her, I’m so sorry I only stopped her once. I didn’t want to get into it but I realize now that ignoring it is just as bad as joining in. Especially seeing the effects it has on you first hand, and now that I know I could’ve helped.”

Last night, Crystal gave Gigi a run down on every single color she had ever dyed her hair, and she had mentioned that she stopped dying her hair once she got into high school because she didn’t want to stick out even more, in fear of getting treated worse. It had made Gigi sad then, and knowing she could’ve changed that made her feel even worse.

“Yeah, I don’t know how this is going to impact your real life, but no matter what I just hope you will step in next time.”

Gigi reached over to grab Crystal’s hand and squeezed it gently. “I will never let her hurt you ever again. I care about you so much.”

They sat in silence for a few moments.

“Can I tell you something?” Crystal asked quietly, avoiding Gigi’s glance.

“Of course. You can tell me anything.”

“I really like you. I know it’s probably weird now, since you’re not out and I’m not positive you feel the same, but I feel like I should tell you.”

Gigi smiled, placing her fingers under Crystal’s chin, lifting them up to make Crystal make eye contact with her. “I’ve been hoping you would say that.”

Crystal blushed at the contact. “Really?”

“Of course! You’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met. I would be such a fool not to like you back.”

The bell rang, interrupting their moment. Gigi pulled away, pulling her phone out of her jacket pocket to check the time. “Fuck. I have a test this period.”

“It’s okay. We can talk about this later,” Crystal reassured her, standing up even though she had no intention to go to her next class, “I can send you my address and we could meet after school?”

Gigi nodded, pulling Crystal into a tight hug. “This is the most emotion I’ve ever shown at once. I thought it was going to be scary but I feel so much better. Thank you for talking to me. If I was you I don’t think I would’ve.”

“I could never not talk to you.”

Crystal decided she would stay in the bathroom until lunch. It was mostly out of laziness, as her Gigi related anxiety was long gone. Doing academics was the last thing she felt like doing now.

She had plenty of entertainment, she had missed a lot on Twitter, and had two thousand new messages from the group chat, even though she was gone for less than a day.

crystal: im skipping class what’s up ladies

jan!: hi crystal!!!

jaida: girl where have you been?? my world has been so empty

nicky: wtf jaida stop acting like i don’t exist

crystal: ehh personal things happened so i was ia. i dyed my hair green last night tho!! look!!

jan!: omg you’re so pretty

jaida: HOT HOT HOT

nicky: crystal. marriage now

heidi: omg girl you look so good!! i love your leprosy print shirt

heidi: leprosy

heidi: girl how do you spell lepord

heidi: leopard

heidi: there we go

nicky: you did it!

jaida: so proud of you

She was relieved they didn’t question her further, but she couldn’t help but be curious about what their reactions would be if they knew what was going on. Talking to the girls again made time go by extremely fast, before Crystal knew it the bell rang, declaring it lunch time.

She hadn’t eaten breakfast due to her anxiety from this morning, and just realized how hungry she was. Collecting her stuff, she exited the bathroom and headed down to the cafeteria.

When she was in line to pay for a slice of pizza and a bag of pretzels, she had caught the attention of Dahlia, who didn’t hesitate to express how she felt about her new hair.

“Ew, who in their right mind would dye their hair green?” Dahlia loudly asked Gigi, making sure Crystal was in ear shot.

Before Crystal could defend herself, Gigi spoke up. “Dahlia, can you please shut the fuck up? No one cares what you think about Crystal’s hair, it looks fine. I can hardly tolerate you being rude anymore.”

“Georgina, what the fuck? I’m not rude!” Dahlia whined, making Crystal smile. She had been slightly surprised that it happened so soon, but she was happy Gigi stepped in.

Crystal paid and made sure to wave at the girls on her way out. Gigi waved back, and Dahlia looked the other way, her arms crossed.

crystal: it’s not that i didn’t believe you but i’m shocked that actually happened..

gigi: she’s lowkey mad at me but idc

gigi: i believe you owe me ur address?

crystal: oh that’s right!

gigi: i have cheer after school but i can come over right after

crystal: yay!!!

The rest of the day was painfully long. Every minute felt like an hour, Crystal was even bored during her art class. She couldn’t wait to go home and talk to Gigi.

She zoned out while she was walking home, wondering what could happen tonight. Crystal would like to think that Gigi was about to kiss her before they got interrupted, or maybe she was going to ask Crystal to be her girlfriend. Anything could happen, and Crystal couldn’t really tell how she felt about it.

When she got home, she tidied up her room. Her bed was unmade, her dirty clothes were on the floor, and a couple dirty cups littered the top of her night stand. It wasn’t too bad, Crystal would usually consider this clean for her, but it made her feel slightly embarrassed now. She had the urge to fix it, even though Gigi probably wouldn’t have cared too much if Crystal left it the way it was.

After her room was clean, she still had some time to spare before Gigi would be on her way. She headed to the group chat, curious to see what chaos they were up to currently.

nicky: ADD HER

nicky: ADDD HEEERRRRR

jaida: jan please come back i hate it here

crystal: who are we adding?

nicky: JACKIE

jan!: NO WE WILL NOT BE ADDING HER

nicky: why :(

jan!: i can’t trust you guys to not embarrass me in front of her and she is not a stan!!! she will not understand any of you!

jaida: we don’t have to embarrass you, you’ll do it yourself. we can teach jackie stan language, she’s smart and she’ll catch on

nicky: JAIDAHJKFDGLK

crystal: omg add her

jan!: i hate you all so much

nicky: PLS

jan!: fine.

jan! added Jackie

jan!: jackie, these are my friends. don’t believe anything they say about me.

Jackie: Oh, hello everyone!

nicky: YAAAS JACKIE NATION

nicky: c’mon auto caps!

crystal: hi!

jaida: hi jackie!

heidi: i leave to play animal crossing for 15 minutes and we get a new member… smh

nicky: not just any new member! it’s jackie!!!!

jaida: the way nicky likes jackie more than jan does

heidi: that’s impossible. jan is SUCH a simp for jackie

Jackie: What?

crystal: OMFG

Jackie: Does that mean she likes me? I’m confused.

nicky: yes!

Jackie: That’s good. I would assume that Jan likes me, especially after what we did in my car earlier.

crystal: holy fucking shit

jan!: OMFGHFJSKDSFHJDFJK UH

jan!: JACKIE SHUT UP!!!!!!

Jackie: Why?

jaida: god i love it here

gigi: janet you better tell me everything later!!!

jan!: GET YOUR MINDS OUT OF THE GUTTER!!!!!!!

Crystal was so invested in the train wreck going on, only focusing on the messages sent by Jan and Jackie that she didn’t notice Gigi had come online until she got a notification that Gigi sent her a private message.

gigi: im on ur street :)

Crystal ran to the door, opening it the second she saw Gigi step onto the porch. Gigi jumped, not expecting it. “Someone’s eager to see me, huh?”

Crystal blushed, letting Gigi in. “Shut up.”

Gigi kicked off her shoes and sat her backpack down next to them before letting Crystal lead her to her room. It was colorful, lots of posters and canvases covering the hot pink walls. “This is very you. I like it!”

“Thank you!” Crystal exclaimed, taking a seat on her bed and patting the space next to her. Gigi gladly sat next to her.

“This is just really weird. 24 hours ago, I didn’t know who you were and now you’re in my bed. It’s kind of overwhelming,” Crystal blurted out, making Gigi frown. “But not in a bad way!” She clarified, “It’s just a lot to process.”

“Oh, yeah. It is a big change. Last night, I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend, but that obviously did not happen.” Gigi blushed, grabbing a throw pillow from Crystal’s bed to hide her face in.

Crystal took the pillow away from her, sitting it next to them, “Do you still want me to be your girlfriend?”

Gigi nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t know if we should become official yet. We know each other so well, but I feel like we need to see if we vibe in person.”

“I don’t think we will have an issue with that, but I agree. Let’s take it slow. But can I try something first?”

Gigi grinned, “Yeah, what?”

“This.” Crystal whispered, leaning forward until her lips pressed against Gigi’s. Gigi kissed her back, wrapping her arms around Crystal’s neck and pulling Crystal even closer.

#rpdr fanfiction #gigi goode #crystal methyd #dahlia sin #jackie cox #jan sport #jaida essence hall #heidi n closet #crygi #lesbian au #social media au #girl i met on the internet #strawberry #s12 #submission

76 notes · View notes

bastillewolf · 4 years

Text

Midnight In Sheffield (I)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: When a soon-to-be-wedded insomniac author heads back home to visit her parents, she comes across the likes of a mysterious musician on her sleepless escapade in the AM.

Notes: Not sure if this is going to work out, but I’ve made the creative decision to write a series of Alex Turner fanfics, going down each album and all most likely lightly based off movies. Like the Grand Tranquility Hotel from the Grand Budapest Hotel, this one is based off Midnight In Paris. No need to have seen either movies to read these fics. It won’t take place around the same time, as Sheffield has been through some stuff in the early 1900s. I will keep it all a bit old-school themed, but just won’t name a specific era, so you can take your own spin on it. I’m not familiar with Sheffield at all, never been there, so I’ll keep locations vague and add the Paris theme a bit in there. Hope you tag along for the ride, and let’s have one for the road.

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

Chapter I - AM

“I don’t see how this could be more important to you than meeting my parents,” she grumbled, her voice muffled by the pillow she had planted her face in. The sheets of the bed were soft and had a pristine white colour, much to her dismay. The entire hotel room was much too extravagant to her liking, but it was Mark who insisted on paying extra to make their stay most comfortable.

“Please don’t be difficult now, sweetheart,” her fiancée replied, as he set one of his neatly folded trousers in the dresser on the shelf next to where his ironed shirts hung. “You know how much it means to me to be able to see James and Rachel again after all these years. I’m sure your parents will understand. If not, I’ll beg for their forgiveness.” He dramatically bent down to his knee, as if to gallantly portray his apology, making her roll her eyes.

“That wouldn’t be the first thing you’d have to apologize for. First of all, you’re going to have to tell my dad why you didn’t ask for his permission to marry me-“

“You already said yes!”

She shot him a look. “And secondly, you’re going to have to explain to my mum why you didn’t want to stay at their home. I think she would’ve been very happy to play hostess to the man who’s going to marry her daughter in a few.”

He crawled on top of the bed, his curly brown hair hanging over his face as he hovered above her and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be sure to make up for it. Now, please get changed. We’re having lunch.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s going to be at that ritzy restaurant we went to last time. I’m still not over the way that waiter felt the need to explain everything to me like a five-year-old whilst pointing everything out with his little finger.”

“Well, you can’t speak French, darling. I think he tried his best at explaining the menu to you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just, please stop drooling on the pillow and put on something nice. For me?”

Seeing the convincing puppy look on his face, she gave in with a sigh and a very loud slurping noise as she lifted her head from the pillow, making Mark huff.

Meeting with James and Rachel wasn’t the worst thing in the world, because she didn’t see them very often and they were overall nice people. At least, if you didn’t count every time James tried to be the smartass of the group by giving some random fact about anything and everything they came across, or if you ignored the way Rachel was evidently very flirty and touchy with Mark, or if you turned your head away every time the couple made those wretched kissing noises as they shared what should be an intimate moment.

What Mark had with Rachel was something she could never come between, something she also shared with many good friends of her own. They were the type who would always share that bond with you, no matter how long you hadn’t seen each other, and she could only be happy that Mark still had friends like that.

His work as a lawyer didn’t allow for him to make all that many mates, as most try to stab him in the back just to be able to get that promotion they wanted. He’d often come home with his head hung low after days like that, when loneliness took over the pride he had of his usually exhilarating job.

And thus, as she watched Rachel hug him extra tight, she kept her mouth shut. It was for the best, and it was only one afternoon she had to endure.

But she vowed to herself to not let it happen at her wedding. That was her day. Fuck Mark and fuck Rachel. She wasn’t going to be left alone dancing with James, who seemed to be known for having two left feet, by her own husband. But that was something she’d have to worry about in the future.

Her worries now were trying to translate a French menu without asking a waiter, deciding which fork to use, and refraining from telling James to shut up about the painting that hung behind him, of which he was giving an entirely unnecessarily intricate description.

“As you can see, the painter made sure the flag of the boat is standing diagonal to the man in the front, to make the artwork a treat for the eye with this interesting form of composition. It makes the scene all the more dramatic, wouldn’t you agree?”

Mark and Rachel hummed thoughtfully, but both were looking at the painting as if it was some Professor Layton puzzle they had yet to solve.

“What do you think?” James turned to her directly, catching her off guard. James usually wasn’t one to ask others for their opinion, so she could only guess it was an attempt to test her bare knowledge on the subject to make himself look like the smarter one.

“I think you said it all, James,” she decided to answer with, “I’m afraid I haven’t thought about art in that way since my classes in school. As of now, I have more important things to worry about than what the composition in a painting is like.”

It was low of her, she knew that, but someone needed to teach him a lesson.

“Ah,” James said, seemingly unfazed by her subtle insult, “Now that you mention it, how’s your book coming along?”

She sighed. Of course, he was going to play that card. She could’ve seen it coming.

Being a published writer of a few mediocre novels she’d written back in school, she was still in search for her new muse, and things were getting a bit desperate, to say the least. She had absolutely no idea what her next story was going to be about, finding everything in her life to be inexplicably boring and explicitly dull.

Not so much to say she wasn’t happy. No, she liked being with Mark. But she couldn’t say her life was a real adventure with him, or anyone for that matter. They lived in an apartment in the big city, where Mark had his day job and she her comfortable bed. He’d come home and she would’ve cooked – whatever attempt it was each time – and cleaned, and perhaps even written down a page or two only to never look at it again.

“Oh, you know. It’s getting there,” she lied, “Inspiration is lacking a bit these days, unfortunately.”

“I’ve always found inspiration to be a bit of a myth,” James said thoughtfully, “Why is it exactly that one particular thing that’s so inexplicable yet so necessary to create something? It seems a bit… I don’t know, like an excuse for some writers. I’ve heard many talk about it seriously, and many call it pure laziness. But then again, I wouldn’t really know much of the matter.”

There was the comeback.

She smiled tightly. “No, you wouldn’t. I can agree that some writers use it as an excuse to hide their laziness, as I find that a lot of characters write their own stories as soon as you sit down and start typing. However, inspiration is indeed something vague, and could be considered a writer’s virtue or downfall. It’s however you approach the subject, and however you try to deal with it or rationalize it as an artist.”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have even mentioned it. I wouldn’t know much about it, since I’m only an art consultant, after all.” He threw his hands up degradingly.

Fucker.

“Oh, come on, let’s not be so childish. All of our work is equally as important, as long as we’re happy doing it,” Rachel intervened, before raising her glass, “Here’s a toast to inspiration and art!”

Though she was relieved the argument was over and the attention drawn away from her, she couldn’t help but feel that familiar itch from the downgrading undertone in Rachel’s voice. Call it jealousy if you might, but she wasn’t one to let something like that slip from her mind, however many years may pass.

“So, if I may be so bold to ask,” Rachel continued, and the writer had almost collected her guts to blatantly reply with a ‘no’ when the woman was already speaking again, “What are your plans after the wedding? Are you moving? Already thinking about having kids? No pressure, of course.” She laughed with a pitch so high it nearly shattered the wineglass she was bringing to her lips to pieces.

“Oh, she always gets a bit icky talking about having kids,” Mark chuckled, “But if it were up to her, we’d be moving to some remote village in the outskirts of France, living in a tiny apartment until we grow old and turn to dust.”

She shrugged at her fiancée, “Doesn’t sound all that bad to me.”

“That’s because you came up with it.”

“Don’t you want to be closer to your friends?” Rachel asked, “Why move to the middle of nowhere, when you have everything out here?”

“I don’t know. I guess because of the peace and quiet. A simple life, with the bare necessities.”

“I wouldn’t have protested if it wasn’t for my job,” Mark added, which was a blatant lie. She’d heard him cut off her dream many times over for many different reasons. “Unfortunately, my French isn’t good enough to be a lawyer, and certainly not in the outskirts somewhere.”

“I thought you barely spoke a word of French, anyway?” James asked her.

“I know, but I would learn it there. It would be a part of the adventure.”

He snorted, “I’m sorry darling, but adventure is for children. It’s time to grow out of that. Perhaps you should find something you like in a proper job.”

She’d prompted to walk back to the hotel, through the rain, as Mark, James and Rachel – mostly Mark – had tried to convince her to share a cab with them. But no way in hell would she spend another unnecessary moment with that couple, and Mark knew better than to follow her out, for she would only be walking too quickly for him, and he would have quietly trailed after her the whole way back.

So, when she finally reached the building, he allowed her to soak in the tub for a few hours before finally approaching her.

“He has a point, you know.”

The look she gave him was an evident warning, yet he still had the guts to continue. “I’m not saying you should stop writing. I know that’s your passion. But, I’m asking you to maybe find something that could come close to that in the meantime, at least until you find something to write about. And perhaps, after we get married-“ he kissed her wrinkly palm, “-we could afford ourselves a nice vacation cot somewhere in the outskirts of France, and we could visit it as often as we’d like.”

She pursed her lips, turning her eyes away from his pensively. “I’m not sure your job would allow that. Your vacation days would be limited, and my desires to go on a holiday always growing.”

He smiled gently. “I’m sure we could work it out after I get that promotion.”

She looked at him, her eyes slightly glossy. “I just don’t want to feel like I’m giving up.”

“You’re not giving up, sweetheart. You’re only taking measures to be able to do the things you like, and when things are going well you can set your priorities straight. It’s the better thing to do.”

Her mind might be relieved to hear this solution, but her gut remained ridden with unease.

“Mark? Are you coming?” she called out, her hand hovering over the doorknob of their room.

“I’ll be right after you!” she heard him say, “Work is phoning me, you go ahead. I’ll take the next cab.”

“Alright, but don’t be too long!”

They were supposed to meet with their parents that evening to share the big news, but after hugs were shared and multiple cups of tea were had, Mark still hadn’t shown. She was beginning to grow worried when he didn’t pick up his phone, and even went as far as to step outside to frantically see if the connection was better.

After eight missed calls, she finally reached him.

“Can you believe it?” she heard him slur, “I stepped into the same cab as James! We’re at the pub, you should come join!”

Hearing faint noises of protest from others on the other end of the line, she quickly grew more and more bothered. “Mark, we were supposed to see my parents tonight.”

“Oh, we can see them again tomorrow! I figured you needed some catching up to do.”

“You could’ve joined in on that catching up, as they’ve barely seen you three times over the past four years we’ve been together.”

“Please don’t be like that sweetheart, you know I adore your parents. In fact, I’ll come over right now if that’s what you-“

“No,” she quickly cut him off, not being able to stand the mental sight of her parents having to deal with her drunk fiancée. “You know what, have fun. I’ll stay at my parents’ for the night.”

“Sounds like fun! Call me-“

She’d hung up the phone before he could finish his sentence, and had dropped to her knees as she felt her bottom lip tremble. Not wanting to alert the neighbours, she quickly forced her numb legs to work again and strode in the direction of town, a walking route she usually took whenever she was upset when she was young. She sent a quick text to her mum, telling her she’d meet again with them tomorrow and explain what happened. She really couldn’t be bothered right now.

Tears streamed down her face at the thought that her feet were so unwilling to go back to face her parents, who she’d have to disappoint yet again with a disappearing soon-to-be son-in-law. It wasn’t that she couldn’t tell her parents about her problems, it was the thought of disappointing them once again with a mistake she was making.

A horrible, horrible mistake.

She was no longer aware of which way she’d gone, as all shops around her seemed unfamiliar, yet she could’ve sworn she hadn’t messed up any turns in her route.

Wherever she was though, was a beautifully quaint, with antique streetlights and a cobbled road. Shop windows held curtains made from white lace, and showed off vintage clothes and items for a real bargain.

Must be one of those vintage sales, she figured, as her eyes grazed along cars with brands that were so old she couldn’t remember the names of them. Stores like these must attract the more interesting people with vehicles like those.

It was when she saw a polished and brand-new-looking typewriter in one of the windows, she paused. Above it, she saw her own reflection; a puffy reddened face stained with an ongoing array of tears.

“I really hope you’re not crying because you want that typewriter so awfully bad,” a voice spoke.

She whipped around, coming face to face with a man who was giving her a kind look. His eyes were hazel, matching the brown suit he wore, and his head shaved to a buzzcut. He had sharp features, and still looked awfully British.

“I- Uh… No, I’m not,” she stuttered, trying to wipe the waterworks away with her sleeve.

The man then held out a folded cotton handkerchief to her, along with a smile as an attempt to cheer her up. She gratefully accepted both.

“Not any bloke I’d need to beat up, is there?”

She laughed blubberingly, “I don’t think that would be the solution to my problems, but thank you.”

“Thank god,” he huffed, “Because to be quite honest, I can’t throw a punch for the life of me. I would’ve had to ask one of my mates to do it for me, and cheer him on as he’d won my own fight.”

“I don’t think that would count as your fight,” she chuckled.

“Defending a lady’s honour is always my fight,” he replied. He shook his head, “Apologies for the rudeness, miss. Haven’t even properly introduced myself. I’m Miles.”

She gave him her own name, “and it’s nice to meet you, Miles. May I ask what you’re doing about this late?”

He gave her a strange look, “Why, it’s the perfect hour, why wouldn’t I be about? The night has only just started, and one of my close mates is preforming in the pub nearby. Want to join?”

She only took a moment to hesitate, before wilfully agreeing. “Sure.”

#Arctic Monkeys #Alex Turner #Alex Turner x Reader #Matt Helders #Miles Kane #TLSP #The Last Shadow Puppets #Nick O'Malley #AM #TBHC #Jamie Cook #Wpsiatwin #Humbug #Suck It And See #Fanfiction

104 notes · View notes

itzagothamcitysiren · 4 years

Text

There’s Only Us Left Now

An update two days in a row? Wow, there really is something wrong with me lol.

I’m feeling slightly better after taking the morning to just take care of myself. I got the haircut that I’ve needed since like before covid started. I got my oil change that needed to be change since June. And I went to Ulta and got a new eye shadow pallete and Old Navy for some flannels. Now I’m going to eat my Taco Bell and get back into writing this!

Thanks again to those who are still reading this <3 This chapters a little shorter than what I usually write but I wanted to show stuff from Tim’s POV.

I Had a Dream I Was a Vigilante’s Side Kick pt. 4

Tim Drake was a considerably patient kid as having patience was a requirement in his family. Having strong shoulders was another one as the amount of bullshit his father piled onto them would overwhelm the average fifteen year old. Tim wasn’t the strongest but up until now he was pretty damned sure that he was strong enough to deal with it.

He ran his hands through his hair again. His back still leaned against his bedroom door that separated him from the living room. The conversation he could hear from the opposing side was going just as badly as the one he had yesterday with Halley Wilson had gone. He closed his eyes when he heard his father’s grunt and the sound of him being hit in the gut.

Okay, maybe it was going worse.

Tim wanted to step out and help his father but he wasn’t an idiot. Oswald Cobblepot’s cronies, as thick headed as they were, could easily make Tim regret any stand of rebellion. That was why he banked all his cards into the famed batfamily. They could give him the skills he needed to protect his family from the consequences of his father’s life choices. He would’ve been able to stop this.

He knew he could’ve simply asked for help but what would they really have done? Batman wasn’t the Batman he once was. Like he had told Halley, he was darker, more brutal as he fought. Tim grew up idolizing the hero and like any kid in Gotham wanted to be the next Robin. But unlike all those other kids Tim was fit for the job.

Hell he had figured out that Bruce Wayne was Batman. He found out all of their identities. Tim knew how to track them down and where to find them. He’d tailed Halley for weeks without her noticing him. She was supposed to be his ticket in. He failed of course. He knew his chances of actually getting her on his side were slim but he thought he’d get further than he had. At the time, he was unaware the details but he knew there had to be some big reason for her to quit being Nightshade. He was naïve to think he could get her back into the game with him tagging along.

“He died because of the Joker.” Halley’s words echoed in his head as he heard his father let out another grunt. Tim knew that there was a risk being Batman’s sidekick and he had a hunch that the whole skiing accident story about Jason Todd was in fact just a story and held no real truth.

Tim pulled away from the door quiet as to not alert the goons invading his house that he was home. His dad was a screw up that much Tim knew but like Tim he wasn’t an idiot. He made idiotic decisions like taking out a loan with the Penguin that he knew he wouldn’t be able to pay back but he wasn’t stupid. He was just desperate; he was desperate to save his failing business and make a better life for his family. Tim could relate trying to rake through his mind for a solution for his failed attempt yesterday.

He made his way to his balcony. They only lived on the third floor and the climb down by the fire escape wasn’t that hard. He could go try again. Maybe explain his situation better. Maybe Halley would put the cape and mask back on just to help him take down Penguin? No, she wouldn’t. But if he had to deduce anything he’d be pretty confident in saying that she told the other me members of the batfamily about him knowing their secret. He could use that to go straight to Batman. The taxi ride out to Wayne Manor wasn’t the worst. It was only a little more expansive than boy could afford right now but it could possibly be worth it.

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he looked out at the streets below him. Would it be worth it though? His father got them in too deep with one of the biggest crime bosses of Gotham. Batman would just slap him around a bit and then send him to Arkham in which Cobblepot would just live out his sentence in luxury until he was let out. His family would still be indebted with him and in trouble when he got out. And he would get out; he always got out.

Tim’s eyes lit with a spark an idea flashing across his mind. He was either a genius or he was either insane. Beyond insane, he decided to himself before softly rushing back into his room, but extremely genius.

He stood still hearing the intruders bidding farewell too his father with a demand for him to make sure he can pay up at their next visit. Tim looked down knowing his dad was most likely making his way to the bathroom to lick his wounds before his mother caught home from work. Unlike his mother, Tim wasn’t kept in the dark from his father’s misfortune, having caught his father during another one of his meetings some time ago.

Once Tim heard the front door be locked and the bathroom door close, he picked up his step and made his way to his desk. He opened up his laptop, logging in and setting himself off to work. His fingers typed furiously, his eyes flickered across the screen and his mind was pushed the farthest it had ever been pushed. Tim was great with computers. So great that he was able to not only use it to track down Halley but when he was first learning how to hack he had been able to award himself a full scholarship to Gotham Academy.

Tim was smart enough to get in but his guidance counselor never got around to submitting his application in time. You gotta love Gotham’s amazing public school system, Tim huffed, remembering how little the counselor cared about her delay. And it wasn’t like Tim’s parents could really afford to send him themselves right now. Maybe a couple of years ago when his father had just begun stepping into the higher class of Gotham. But that was before he made a couple of bad deals that lead them to where they were now.

The fifteen year old cracked his knuckles the time passing by quickly as he continued to work. The sun setting and then rising didn’t faze him. He was done by the time he was supposed to be waking up and getting ready for school. He smirked as he closed the laptop knowing his work was done. He had managed to do exactly what Batman failed to do. He finally found a way to take Oswald Cobblepot down for good.

The smug smile he wore from the moment he closed his laptop to the moment he walked to school and to the moment he sat in the library alone during lunch never faded. He was already the weird, poor, outcasted kid in the school but he didn’t care if the twisted smile he had on helped his case or not. He was happy; he stuck it right where it hurt. Oswald deserved everything Tim did last night.

He jingled his house keys, a certain pep in his step as he walked down the hallway to his apartment. His book bag slung over his shoulder, the day going by as quick as a breeze. He wanted to tell his dad what he did but he knew that it was a secret he was meant to keep. He hummed to himself as he opened the door to the apartment.

For the first time since it appeared, the self-righteous look on his face was torn right off. His eyes scanned around the kitchen, the open dining area shown off as well. His eyes nearly blew out of his skull as he saw the disarray the rooms were in. The side table where they all left their keys and mail was knocked over as if someone was pushed into it in some sort of scuffle. The dining room table was top side as well one of the chair broken and tossed off to the side.

He felt his heart stop quietly closing the door behind him and ignoring every instinct to run away. He could hear soft sobs. They sounded like his mother. Oh no, he thought dreadfully. There was no way Cobblepot knew it was him. There was no way. Tim used every form of protection he had. He used firewall after firewall, decoy vpn after decoy vpn. Tim was so sure he was careful. And if he knew how did he find out so quickly?

“Mom?” he called out, his voice shaking. On his way to the living room, where the sound of her cries were coming from, he stopped in the kitchen and grabbed the first thing he could find. It was a frying pan but it would do. “Mom.” He called out again stepping over one of the chairs on the floor.

“Mom!” He called out when he got sight of her. She sat on the couch, her head in her hands and shoulders shaking. The small living room was just as a mess as the first half of the house. Tim crouched down in front of her, resting a hand on her shoulders. “Are you okay? What happened?”

His mother raised her head, staring at her son with her tear reddened eyes. She choked out a sob before launching herself at him and pulling him into a tight embrace. Her words were hard to understand as she began to talk, but Tim knew what happened.

“They took your father! They wouldn’t tell me why! I don’t even know who they are. They just came in and did this,” She cried, releasing her son and motioned to the apartment. “They said if I called the cops they’d kill him. I don’t know what to do.”

Tim bit his lip knowing exactly what happened and who they were. He stood up heading out of the living room and to his room. His mother followed him still obviously shaken and didn’t know what her son was up too or why he looked so unsurprised. Tim took a quick peek at his desk. His fear was confirmed when he saw that it was missing. He cursed to himself. His mother always said Tim and his father were two peas in a pod but he never believed it until now.

“Mom,” he said placing both hands on her shoulder. “You need to get out of the city. Go to Gram’s house. I know who can help us but it’s not safe for you.”

“Excuse you?” the woman exclaimed, putting her hands on her hips. “What are you talking about? No, what I’m going to do is go to the police. It’s what I should’ve done.” She sniffled, wiping her face and moving to head to the phone in the kitchen.

Tim beat her too it, snatching it out of her hands and smashing it onto the floor and stomping on it. He rubbed his foot in it and looked up at her apologetically.

“Timothy!” She cried out.

“I’m sorry but don’t call them. They’re serious. They’ll kill Dad.” Tim explained as he began to back away. “Go to Gram’s.” He repeated before making a dash to the front door and bolting out of the apartment before his mother could stop him.

He ignored her screaming after him and raced out and onto the streets of Gotham. He pushed past people, shouting out apologies. His breath was heavy as he ran making his way in desperation to Gotham University.

25 notes · View notes

gloves94 · 4 years

Text

Sunburn [Prince Zuko] 35

Warnings: Cursing Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Zuko/OC

Sunburn Chapter M A S T E R L I S T

My fan fiction M A S T E R L I S T

Presently, Toph, Katara sat on the edge of the beach house’s inner courtyard watching the three firebenders practice their bending skills from the comfort of a refreshing shade.

Tsai had been complaining to everyone about how much she hated Ember Island but when asked why she would just grumble and seethe in her own anger and frankly it was getting on everybody’s nerves. It’s not something she liked to talk about in particular. Of course, this time things were a lot better than the last time she was here. Not wanting to spend another minute inside of the house that brought such terrible memories to her she spent the majority of the day meditating by the beach in an attempt to ease her terrible headache. She presently wore a set of maroon traditional Fire Nation clothes similar to the ones that Suki and Katara wore.

She was currently walking back to the courtyard to sit next to the girls that were watching the boys train.

She watched as the three benders moved in perfect synchronization in elaborate firebending movements. Blasting arcs of flames and fistfuls of fire. She really wished she could’ve been paying more attention to where she was going but was more distracted by a shirtless body. Her eyes were glued to the prince’s toned torso. She looked at the way his perspired body seemed to glisten with the light as he moved swiftly. Had he always been that well-built? She knew he was strong from holding onto his arms so many times before, but his abdominals- Her mind went to an erubescent compartment of her imagination. Why had she never stopped to appreciate the royal sight before?

The three benders straightened and turned towards each other relaxing in their stances letting out a deep breath slowly.

Then it hit her. Literally. She groaned slightly when she ran face-first into one of the courtyard’s pillars making Toph laugh loudly from where she was sitting. She stepped back and glared in embarrassment as she walked over to where Katara and Toph were sitting.

“You’ve got something on your face.” Toph continued laughing.

The girl rubbed the red line that had formed across the bridge of her nose and prayed that hopefully it wouldn’t bruise. “Yeah, I hope it doesn’t bruise.”

“I meant droll.” Toph dead panned. Tsai swore she could’ve strangled her in the spot. Mortified that she had been caught in the act of checking out the Fire Nation’s former prince in such an obvious matter.

"Doesn't it seem kinda weird that we're hiding from the Fire Lord in his own house?" Katara suddenly said absent mindedly. Thankfully Toph seemed to be the only one to have witnessed her embarrassing run in to the pole.

“Think of it as hiding in plain sight. Besides, you think the Fire Lord is going to come and hang out here?” The red head explained raising both of her arms up in a casual shrug.

"Yeah," Zuko agreed from where he was sitting at the foot of a concrete fountain, rubbing the sweat from his hair with a towel. He said something. Tsai was certain she saw his mouth move when he was speaking but she wasn’t listening. Her teenage hormones getting the best of her.

“You guys are not going to believe this!” Thankfully Sokka interrupted her daydream. She shook her head shoving those red thoughts into a cranny in the back of her brain.

Sokka and Suki stood at the entrance of the courtyard both with excited looks on their faces.

"We were just in town when we found this poster." Suki explained with both hands behind her back. She nudged Sokka, "Show them, Sokka."

“There’s a play about us!” Sokka announced unraveling a parchment scroll he had been holding behind his back. He snapped it opened revealing a traditional drawing of Aang and the Southern Water Tribe siblings in fighting stances. Zuko’s face in the background. An image of the Blue Spirit’s mask hovering in between the two parties.

Everybody came in closer to take a look at the poster.

"Listen to this," Sokka said as he turned the poster back around so he could read it capturing everybody’s attention as he began to read out loud. "The Boy in the Iceberg is a new production from acclaimed playwright Pu On Tim who scoured the globe gathering information on the Avatar from the icy South Pole to the heart of Ba Sing Se. His sources include singing nomads, pirates, prisoners of war, and a surprisingly knowledgeable merchant of cabbage."

Suki leaned over his shoulder and read the last line, "Brought to you by the critically acclaimed Ember Island Players."

"Ugh..." Zuko groaned and made a disgusted face his shoulder’s dropping, "My mother use to take us to see them. They butchered Love Amongst the Dragons every year."

Tsai couldn’t help but snort a small laugh. She knew that Zuko was a fan of theatre. Go figure. It definitely explained his fanfare for dramatic antics.

"Sokka," Katara sighed in exasperation, giving her brother a bland look as she asked, "Do you really think it's a good idea for us to attend a play about ourselves?"

“Yeah,” Added Tsai crossing her arms over her chest taking a seat next to Zuko at the foot of the fountain. “We shouldn’t be slacking off. We still have plenty of training to do.”

"C'mon!" Sokka whined before looking at the two girls persuasively as he unrolled the parchment again and showed it to the group. "This is the kind of wacky, time-wasting nonsense I've been missing!" He smiled at them with an eager expression on his face. “And it’s until night! So, we’ll have all day to train,” He shot at the red head.

Katara rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and looking away with a baffled expression.

“Yeah, why not?” Mecha asked as he sat next to his sister. He rested an elbow on top of her head with the intention to annoy her. She slouched forward under the weight of his arm. “I’d love to see what trouble ya’ll have gotten into.”

She glared at her brother and pushed his scarred arm off her head.

She let out an exhale in defeat. "Sure, why not? How bad could it be?"

xxx

The theatre house was grand. Composed of golden arches and red roofs and ceilings which were traditional to the area. The theatre was packed, and the group shuffled into the highest and cheapest seats they found at the very top in a small private box.

Toph sat on the edge, next to her Katara, Zuko and Aang.

"Hey, uh..." Aang faltered as he was forced to stand back up. He rubbed the back of his neck and tried to act casual as he said, "I wanted to sit there." He said motioning to the spot next to Katara.

Zuko then lowered his hood and glanced at Aang strangely, "Just sit next to me, what's the big deal?"

Behind sat Suki, Sokka, Tsai and her brother both of them sipping on some Ember Island iced teas.

“I really don’t want to be here. There’s literally 1001 more productive things that we could be doing.” She complained to her brother. “Am I the only one that is aware that Sozin’s Comet isn’t slowing down?”

“Simmer down. You’re acting as if you’rethe Avatar” Sokka said with ease as he slid an arm around Suki’s shoulders. “At least one of us is!” She spoke sharply bitterly the edge of her eye twitching in frustration as she glared at Aang who didn’t hear her snarky remark. “You’ll have tomorrow to train and do your sun greeting meditations or whatever it is you do.” Sokka waved his hand indifferent to her attitude.

“Relax,” Mecha said to her. “This is just what we need. It’ll be a good way to get our minds off things.”

She sighed deflating a little.

“Besides I’m excited to see all of our parts!”

Aang fidgeted a little in the seats at the front as he struggled to find a seat next to Katara. "I was... just, uh..." Aang stuttered and glanced over at the brunette, who was peering at him oddly before looking back at the stage. He looked back at Zuko and cleared his throat, "I wanted to..." He sighed in defeat sat next to Zuko in defeat “Okay…”

"Why are we sitting in the nosebleed section?" Toph demanded, crossing her arms and leaning back in her seat at the end. The theater lights dimmed signifying that the show was about to start. "My feet can't see a thing from up here."

"Don't worry," Katara stated in amusement, glancing at Toph from the corner of her eye before focusing on the stage once more, "I'll tell your feet what's happening."

Toph didn't bother to respond, as she heard the curtain being drawn up.

ACT I Scene 1

Sokka excitedly grabbed his sister's shoulder and pointed between them as their actor portrayals were revealed. The actress portraying Katara was an older woman wearing pounds of rogue cakey makeup on her face. "Sokka, my only brother!" She exclaimed dramatically with a loud sigh as she pretended to row a canoe through the moving cut-outs of blue waves.

"We constantly roam these icy South Pole seas, and yet never do we find anything fulfilling!"

Sokka’s actor had an overbite and his wig resembled more of a broomsticks’ end. He spoke next "All I want is a full feeling in my stomach, I'm starving!" He drawled out. The audience all laughed at the joke.

"Is food the only think on your mind?" Actress Katara asked in melodramatically.

"Well, I'm trying to get it out of my mind," Actor Sokka retorted and pointed to his mouth, "And into my mouth. I'm starving!"

The crowd of Fire Nationers once again roared with laughter.

"This is pathetic." Sokka complained, leaning over his sister's shoulder and waving his hand towards the stage, "My jokes are wayfunnier than this."

Tsai let out a humorous snort as she leaned back into her seat, arms crossed over her chest. Her brother’s body language mirroring her own.

"I think he's got you pegged." Toph quipped with a laugh, and Sokka glowered at her in reply then sat back with a huff to continue watching the play.

"Every day, the world awaits a beacon to guide us, yet none appears. Still we cannot give up hope!" Katara’s actress placed her hand to her chest and began to sniffle dramatically, "For hope is all we have," Her voice wavered with choked tears as she collapsed over the side of the canoe in an exaggerated manner. "And we must never relinquish it. Even...Even to our dying breath." She burst into fake tears lowering her head. Actor Sokka looked at her blankly and continued paddling.

Katara huffed and crossed her arms without amusement, "Well, that's just silly. I don't sound like that at all."

The row behind Katara all sniggered quietly behind praying Katara wouldn’t hear them. Toph however, felt no need to hide her laughter as she giggled maniacally. "Oh man, this writer's a genius!"

Katara scowled at her and stuck her nose in the air, closing her eyes in indignation.

It seemed like all Katara’s actress did was bawl dramatically, moan, sigh and cry about hope and feelings. Moments later the boy who was trapped in the iceberg came to the stage.

The actress portraying Katara stopped crying and sat up, turning to stare at the iceberg prop with wide eyes, "It appears to be someone frozen in ice. Perhaps for a hundred years!"

"But who?" Actor Sokka questioned loudly, "Who is the boy in the iceberg?"

Aang leaned forward on his seat in anticipation at his character’s introduction and great reveal. The eagerness on his face excited unmistakable as he learned even further to see the respectable actor that would portray the Avatar. Zuko glanced over at him, he then looked over his shoulder and saw that the Fire Nation siblings were watching the play attentively both of their attentions completely captivated. That’s right. They probably didn’t know that any of this had happened.

Actress Katara climbed onto the iceberg prop quickly, Actor Sokka climbing it at slower pace. She made a slashing motion with her arm and cried out, "Waterbend, hai-ya!"

The silhouette disappeared from view as the iceberg prop split in half. Smoke spilled out of it flooding the stage. It was time. The big reveal. The Avatar leapt out of the smoke and landed between Sokka and Katara’s actors. The actor struck a playful pose placing a hand on his- her hip and winking at the audience. The actress wore cake loads of rogue blush and a bald cap with a blue arrow as well as Aang’s traditional Air Nomad robes.

"Who are you, frozen boy?" Actress Katara asked in awe, reaching out as if to touch the other actress while theatrically clasping her other hand to her chest.

The petite actress portraying Aang laughed and spoke in a high-pitched voice, "I'm the Avatar, silly!" She balanced on the toes of one foot then twirled around, holding her arms out with another cheery giggle, "Here to spread joy and fun!"

Aang cringed and closed his eyes for a second before leaning forward becoming almost deflated, his eyes practically bugging out of his head. He made a choked noise, "Is that a woman playing me?"

Aang scowled and sat back in his seat with an irate huff, crossing his arms and glowering at the stage.

“Is it me? Or does that look like Ty Lee?” Tsai said more to herself than the others.

A replica of Appa made growling and roaring noises before leaping off the iceberg prop, revealing the three actors wearing furry pants to represent the sky bison's six legs. The replica landed to the right of the stage and ran across to the left side then disappeared behind the iceberg prop again.

"An Airbender!" The Katara actress gasped in awe, turning to look at the other actress after watching the Appa run around. She clasped her hands to her chest and dropped down to one knee as she exclaimed, "My heart is so full of hope, that it's making me tearbend!" She sobbed dramatically clinging onto theater Aang’s leg.

"My stomach is so empty that it's making me tearbend!" Actor Sokka wailed as he threw his arms up hopelessly then dropped to his knees, clutching onto Actress Aang's opposite leg and starting to cry just as dramatically as Actress Katara. "I need meat!"

Giggling cheerfully, Actress Aang ducked down, putting her arm around both of their shoulders after they had let go of her. She pointed upward with a cheeky smile, "But wait! Is that a platter of meaty dumplings?"

"Where?!" Actor Sokka asked excitedly, shielding his eyes and turning away from the actress in search of the alleged dumplings. "Where, where?"

Actress Aang laughed and shifted so she was sitting on the edge of the iceberg prop, playfully swinging her arm around as she chirped, "Did I mention that I'm an incurable prankster?" She crossed her legs and smiled cutely winking at the laughing audience.

"I don't do that!" Aang growled irritably as the audience continued to chortle, "That's not what I'm like! And-and I'm not a woman!" He threw his hands up in frustration as he slumped on his seat.

Toph cracked up and turned her head towards Aang, "Oh I think they nailed you, Twinkle Toes!" She continued laughing when Aang growled at her, lifting his head up to glare in her direction.

Scene 2 The scene changed, and a Fire Nation warship appeared on stage, the actor portraying Zuko poised near the front of the ship, looking through a telescope while a large man that was playing Iroh standing in the middle of the ship.

“Is this when you come out?” Mecha said to his sister in his classic style which never failed to show he could not whisper to save his life.

“You know when I come out!” She said to him roughly. “Not yet!”

"Prince Zuko," Actor Iroh called out as he held up a whole cake minus one slice towards the other actor, "You must try this cake."

"I don't have time to stuff my face!" Actor Zuko, dressed in armor and with a long ponytail, snapped as he turned towards Iroh’s actor, lowering the telescope as he did so. He turned towards the audience and clutched his fist in an assertive manner, "I must capture the Avatar and regain my honor!"

"Well, while you do that, maybe I'll capture another slice." Actor Iroh stated then held the cake up higher before bringing it towards his face and proceeding to gobble it down noisily.

"You sicken me!" Actor Zuko spat in disgust, turning away haughtily to look through his telescope again.

The Fire Nation crowd once again laughed loudly. Zuko scowled and gestured towards the stage with his free hand, "They make me look totally stiff and humorless."

"Actually," Katara commented in complacent amusement as she crossed her arms, "I think that actor's pretty spot on."

He heard laughing coming from behind and turned to glare at the two Fire Nation siblings who were miserably failing at controlling their loud laughter. “They totally nailed you!” She couldn’t help but laugh loudly.

Zuko swung his arm out and protested, "How can you say that?" He asked looking back at them.

"Let's forget about the Avatar and get massages!" Iroh said.

"How can you say that?!"

Katara and the two siblings in the back smirked and looked at Zuko smugly. The backrow laughed even harder. Zuko grumbled and slumped down in his seat, frowning at the stage.

Several scenes passed by all of them portraying dramatically exaggerated personifications of Aang and his friends on their adventures as they traveled to the Eastern Air Temple and Ba Sing Se. Tsai and Mecha had been enjoying the play so far. They were learning so much about what the group had been through before they came into the story.

Scene 7

“Here’s where we come in!” Mecha nudged his younger sister’s arm excitedly as the last scene faded.

But- it didn’t happen. Yu Dao never came into scene. She looked at the stage before in disappointment their spirits faltering a little.

“Guess I’m not relevant enough to be in the play,” She sulked as she sunk into her seat.

Lights representing lightning flashed though the stage followed by fake sounding thunder as the Pohuai fortress came into view.

"The Avatar is mine!" Actor Zuko shouted triumphantly as he stood in front of a raised platform Actress Aang was tied to while several actors dressed as Fire Nation guards stood at the bottom. Actor Zuko looked to the left and pointed with a shout of surprise, "Wait, who's coming?"

A spotlight swung to the left, illuminating an actor wearing a massive Blue Spirit mask that covered his whole body. "I am the Blue Spirit!" The actor shouted as he clashed his dual dao blades together and tap danced in place, "The scourge of the Fire Nation here to save the Avatar!"

Waving his swords around, the Blue Spirit actor walked across the stage, the fake guards falling down as he past them. Actor Zuko ran around the platform and came up behind the Blue Spirit actor, throwing a red ribbon that was meant to be fire at the Blue Spirit actor's feet. The Blue Spirit actor jumped back to avoid the streamer then thrust his sword forward at Actor Zuko, who ran off stage.

"My hero!" Actress Aang cried out, pulling her hands from her restraints and leaping on top of the large Blue Spirit mask.

Zuko glanced over his shoulder Aang, the two giving each other embarrassed looks before quickly looking away.

The Blue Spirit actor continued to tap dance on stage before quickly spinning only to reveal an older actress with a tacky red wig standing on the other side of the mask.

“They’ll never suspect it’s me! The greatest traitor to the nation!” The actress who was wearing pounds of make-up and a promiscuous ochre colored kimono laughed loudly in a most irate laugh possible.

Tsai sprayed out her beverage like a whale and looked at the scene before in horror. She didn’t think she had ever heard her brother laugh so loud before. That’s right… The Fire Lord probably still thinks she’s the Blue Spirit. She facepalmed.

“This is such an inaccurate portrayal.”

Scene 8

A Fire Nation warship returned to the stage were Zuko’s Actor gazed out through a telescope once again and Iroh’s Actor played Pai Sho.

“Yoo-hoo! Boys!” Actor Tsai pulled out a hankerchief and waved at the warship with a sultry look on her eyes. “Wanna take me on a ride?” She giggled flirtatiously and winked at the audience.

“Hot Fire Pepper Flakes!” Actor Iroh gasped dramatically. “I guess we have to! What’s theworstthat could happen?” Iroh laughed heartily. As the actress with the red wig jumped on the ship gleefully.

“Uncle! This is not a cruise resort! I don’t want this colonial pest on my ship! Although… I can’t say no to such a vixen.”

“Is that really how it happened?” Aang quirked a confused eyebrow.

“It’s not!” Tsai cried out from the back with a red face leaning forward speaking between Aang and Zuko’s shoulders. “This play is so inaccurate! I mean- They paint me like some kind of whoozy!They totally missed the funeral. And my laugh does notsound like that!” “I think they got the annoying laugh juuust right.” Her brother sniggered earning himself a hard punch to the arm.

Zuko sat stiffly and brought a hand to his face to hide his embarrassment.

Scene 9

The backdrop was changed to that of the Freedom Fighters former hide-out in the trees and Actress Katara along with an actor portraying Jet, stood on a small platform attached to a rope that was hanging a few feet above the stage.

“Wait is that…” Tsai narrowed her eyes. “Is that Jet?” Her eyes went slightly wide. “You know Jet?” She whispered to Katara leaning over. “You know him too?” Katara whispered back with an embarrassed expression on her face. “Yeah, we had a thing-“She was interrupted by Zuko who loudly shushed the both of them not wanting to remember the little rendezvous Tsai had had with him. He certainly didn’t want to remember the two of them canoodling back on the ferry to Ba Sing Se.

Actress Katara began to mock sob loudly and Actor Jet, with a rose in his mouth held her close, "Don't cry baby. Jet will wipe out that nasty town for you!"He pointed at the stage briefly then lifted Actress Katara's chin up while a stagehand dressed in black pulled a large, blue sheet that was supposed to represent water, across the stage beneath them.

"Oh Jet," Actress Katara cooed in a sultry voice as the platform was raised, "You're so bad."

Katara blushed brightly and ducked her head, bringing her hand up to hide her face in embarrassment while Toph giggled unabashedly.

“Why are all the women in this play over-sexualized?!” A female voice in the back row protested angrily.

Scene 11

“Quit playing Pai Sho with my uncle!”

“As a woman from the colonies I can tell you, it’s notthe only thing we’re playing.”

“Ohohoho!”Actor Iroh laughed loudly and lecherously.

The audience roared with wild laughter at the vulgar stereotype of women from the colonies.

The girl hid her face behind her hands shrinking lower into her seat.

“That did nothappen…” She grumbled completely mortified. Not even wanting to see the weirded outlooks that the group was giving her. Her and Iroh had been close, but not like that!

Scene 12

“I can’t fight your bewitching spell any longer temptress! Kiss me!”

Mecha had a horrified look on his face as he watched the scene before where Tsai and Zuko’s Actors kissed on the warship. The girl had completely slid down her seat with a red face of mortification.

“That didn’t happen either, eh?” Toph snorted flashing the girl a teasing look.

“Not like that at least!” She roared out jumping out of her seat making several heads turn back to look at her. Zuko was wearing his black hood over his head back again he pulled it down so it would hide his equally embarrassed expression. He could almost feel both Katara and Aang looking down at him with teasing grins.

“That’s it! I can’t watch this anymore!”

“But Tsai- there’s about to be an intermission!” Her brother said sipping on his tea, regardless she exited the room and threw her own beverage away.

Some moments later after the Act I intermission the rest of the group joined her outside in outdoor balcony that lead to their private viewing box.

“I see what you mean by ‘they butchered Love Amongst the Dragons every year.’" Tsai grumbled blowing a hair out of her face as he sat on the steps leaning against the railing.

"So far, this intermission is the best part of the play." Zuko grumbled taking a standing on the steps next to her leaning his weight on the railing as well.

"Apparently, the playwright thinks I'm an idiot." Sokka complained as he walked down the stairs with a bag of spicy fire jerky, taking a seat next to Suki a few steps from the bottom of the stairs. "Who tells bad jokes about meat all the time!"

"Yeah," Suki drawled in amusement and a hint of sarcasm, "You tell bad jokes about plenty of other topics too."

Sokka bit off a piece of jerky and exclaimed around it as he chewed, "I know!"

"At least this Sokka actor kind of looks like you." Aang retorted from his seat on the bottom steps, Toph standing in front of him with an amused look on her face, "That woman playing the Avatar doesn't resemble me at all."

"I don't know," Toph quipped with a sardonic grin, "You are more in touch with your feminine side than most guys."

“Simmer down Aang, it’s supposed to be a satire.” Tsai explained calmly. “One written specifically to appeal the humor of the Mainland,” she said angrily covering her face with her hands. Aang scowled at the ground his pose mirroring hers. “Can you believe how they portrayed me? Just because I’m from the colonies!” She fumed at the stereotypical portrayal.

“Hey at least you’re in it.” Her brother rolled his eyes somewhat bitter he wasn’t even written in.

"Relax, you guys." Katara chided lightly from the top of the stairs, smiling gently at Aang when he looked up at her with a frown. "They're not accurate portrayals. It's not like I'm a preachy crybaby who can't resist giving overemotional speeches hope all the time." She frowned when the others just looked at her skeptically, "What?"

"Yeah," Aang muttered, rolling his eyes slightly as he sat back down on the step, "That's not you at all."

“Am I a whoozy?” The red head asked dramatically her voice raised in a lighter pitch. As her shoulder’s dropped to the side.

“No.” Scattered voices reassured her.

“I’m going to murder whoever wrote this junk.” Zuko grumbled under his breath inaudible for the others to hear. What was the name of the playwright again Pu On Tim?

Toph shook her head, amused at how bent out of shape her friends were getting over the whole play. "Listen, friends. It's obvious that the playwright did his research. I know it must hurt but what you're seeing up there on that stage is the truth."

ACT II Scene 14

"Well here we are in the Earth Kingdom." Actress Katara said as she stood with Actor Sokka, and Actress Aang. In front of a background painted to look like Earth Kingdom buildings.

"I'd better have a look around to see if I can find an earthbending teacher." Actress Aang chirped happily, opening up her miniature air glider prop and jumping into the air while a cable lifted her up.

Toph leaned forward eagerly, "This is it! this must be where I come in!"

Actress Aang flew around the theater and over the audience before landing back on stage.

"I flew all over town, but I couldn't find a single earthbending master!"

"Here it comes..." Toph muttered, clenching her fists in anticipation.

The boulder next to where the trio were standing beside on stage was held up by a hulking muscular man wearing Toph's outfit as he rose out of a trap door the rock prop had been covering.

"You can't find an earthbending master in the sky, you have to look underground." The man rumbled in a super deep voice as he threw the rock prop over their heads.

Katara clapped her hands over her mouth to hide her laughter, Suki mimicking her while Aang, Sokka, and Tsai laughed freely and Zuko dropped the play parchment he was holding in shock.

"Who are you?" Actress Aang asked as she pointed at Actor Toph.

Actor Toph spat off the side and rumbled, "My name's Toph because it sounds like tough." He flexed his muscles, "And that's just what I am."

"Wait a minute." Toph frowned and turned her head to the side, straining to hear the words before using her finger to clear out her ear canal, "I sound like a..." She made a shocked noise, "A guy. A really, really buff guy."

"Well Toph, what you hear up there is the truth." Katara commented snidely, smirking smugly at the blind girl, "It hurts, doesn't it?"

"Are you kidding?" Toph exclaimed as she grinned from ear to ear, "I wouldn't have cast it any other way!

"So, you're blind?" Actress Aang asked curiously as she waved her hand in front of Actor Toph's eyes, which were covered by his overly long bangs.

"I can see you doing that." Actor Toph laughed then gestured with his burly arms, "I see everything that you see except that I don't see like you do. I release a sonic wave from my mouth." He turned towards the trio and opened his mouth and screamed loudly at them, causing the actors to lean back and their clothes to flutter from the strong vibrations of the shout.

The entire audience grimace at the loudness of the roar. The backrow gazed in terror while Toph held onto the railings with an excited expression.

"There." Actor Toph said contentedly after he finished screaming, "I got a pretty good look at you."

Actress Aang giggled and clapped, promoting the audience to do the same while the other actors stared at Actor Toph in awe.

Scene 17

"Zuko, it's time we had thetalk." Actor Iroh said slowly as he stood on a metal bridge with Actor Zuko, who was now wearing a long-haired wig.

“I’ve had thattalk already Uncle.”

The audience laughed loudly.

Actor Iroh pointed at him, "About your hair. It's gone too far." Tsai’s actress sat between the two actors looking between the two with mock gasping expressions.

"Maybe it's best if we..." Actor Zuko flicked his hair as he turned his head away, "Split up."

He turned and walked away, Actor Iroh heading in the opposite direction.

“Oh no!” She gaped dramatically. “Will you stay if we have some tea?” She drawled on the last word coyly. Before letting out a loud high-pitched irritating laughter.

Again, cue for the audience to laugh.

Scene 19

It was the scene of Lake Laogai, but know with Actress Aang, Actress Katara, Actor Toph, and Actor Sokka, Actor Jet flailed around between the group, slashing his hook sword arm props around, while wearing a pair of crazy eye glasses, the tiny beads the represented his pupils spinning around to show that he had lost his mind.

"No, Jet!" Actress Aang exclaimed as Actor Jet spun around the other actors looked on with horrified expression. Actress Aang placed her hands on her cheeks and gasped, "What did they do to you?"

"Must." Actor Jet swiped his hook sword arm towards Actress Aang unsteadily, "Serve. Earth King!" He spun in place and swiped at Actor Sokka, who ducked, "Must...Destroy!" He fell to his knees and started making various agonizing noises as a rock prop floated down from above, and he crawled underneath it. "Oh!" he gasped as he fell onto his stomach, the rock prop covering his upper body before he pulled his legs underneath it.

"Did...Did Jet just die?" Zuko asked in disbelief, Tsai’s expression mirrored his.

"You know, it was really unclear." Sokka replied with a small shrug before going back to watching the play as if nothing had happened.

Scene 20

Actress Katara came to scene with a backdrop of the Crystal Catacombs behind. She smiled in a sultry manner as she approached Actor Zuko, "I have to admit, Prince Zuko, I really find you attractive."

A shiver went up Katara’s spine when she sensed a deathly glare coming from behind her. Zuko felt it too. They both did. Behind them Tsai’s eyes had turned into slits. Her jealousy getting the best of her the girl almost seemed to be emitting a dark green aura.

“Hey, um? You okay?” Her brother asked eyeing his sister oddly.

"You don't have to make fun of me." Actor Zuko spat harshly as he sat on a crystal prop with his legs crossed one over the other. His harshness caused Actress Katara to cringe before she batted her lashes at him.

"But I mean it." She sat down beside him on the prop, "I had eyes for you since the day you first captured me."

"Wait," Actor Zuko jumped to his feet and moved away from Actress Katara, "I thought you were the Avatar's girl?"

"The Avatar?" Actress Katara laughed coyly as she stood up and approached Actor Zuko seductively, "Why, he's like a little brother to me. I certainly don't think of him in a romantic way. And besides," She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, "How would he find out about this?"

"You're getting up?" Sokka whispered as Aang stood up and exited the theater. Tsai followed after him not particularly enjoying the present scene and not wanting to sit through what she already knew was going to happen next.

"Can you get me some fireflakes?" Sokka settled back in his seat and put his arm around Suki's shoulders before sitting up to loudly whisper again, "Ooh, and some fire gummies!"

“That didn’t happen right?” Mecha leaned his eyes bouncing between his sister and the actors. Sokka let out a raspberry laughing slightly at the absurd question.

Both Zuko and Katara looked extremely uncomfortable and were avoiding all eye contact scooched away from each other awkwardly.

xxx

“Stupid play.” Tsai grumbled as she entered the small balcony area sulking. She was surprised when she found Aang there leanings on the balcony’s railing.

She blinked twice in surprise.

“Oh, I thought you went to get Sokka’s fireflakes.”

Aang remained quiet, his head bowed to the darkness before him.

“Hey,” She said approaching him. “If you want, I’ll go get them. The gummies too.” She said cluelessly.

“Is it true?” Aang said in a broody tone his eyes were lowered as he brooded. It was then that she realized he wasn’t emotionally well. “What?” She blinked twice in surprise now leaning next to him.

He remained quiet and she thought about the scene that had just happened.

“Katara and Zuko? What?” She couldn’t help but laugh a little despite her rash jealous reaction. “He wouldn’t have lived to tell the tale.” She laughed a little harder at the thought.

However, Aang did not find it the slightest bit humorous. He remained serious a sadness lingering to his usually bright eyes.

“Alright, what’s wrong?” She nudged him lightly. “I know this play sucks, but you have to remember it’s not true. I’m not a whoozy just like you’re not girly.” She shrugged her shoulders slightly. Aang still remained silent. Maybe she had said something wrong... “And even if you were considered to be girly- that would be okay. You know? Nothing wrong with that. Girls are awesome. I’m all for everybody embracing their- “she had begun to ramble awkwardly.

Aang exhaled a tiresome breath, “It’s Katara,” he suddenly admitted. She blinked twice in surprise. She did not see that coming.

“You see, I like her, and I thought she liked me too. I mean we did kiss once.” Aang admitted bashfully. She leaned on her fist and listened attentively. “But now I’m not so sure how she feels about me.” He trailed off.

“Aang,” she said softy and he turned to look at her. “We are in the middle of a war. You arethe Avatar. You should be more focused on thinking about howyou’re going to take down Fire Lord Ozai. Not how to woo a girl.” She explained reasonably both of her eyebrows knotted together.

“It’s not fair!” Aang busted uncharacteristically and straighten out his back. “I never wanted to be the Avatar! I never wanted this!” He snapped throwing his hands up in the air a rare frown on his face. “And Katara is notjust a girl!”

She looked at him with an unfazed expression. This childish tantrum was nothing compared to Zuko’s old outbursts. She was silent for a moment allowing his anger to simmer down a little.

“I-I’m sorry,” he apologized before once again hanging his head down. This time feeling even worse about himself after snapping at his friend. “I’m just worried that all this time when she looks at me, she all she sees is a little brother.” She hummed slightly before turning to look at him once again.

“You know, my grandfather was the wisest person I knew.” She began. “He had a lot of sayings, but I think one of the most obscure ones was about love. How’d it go again?‘One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: That word is love’”She quoted wisely. “He would also always say that ‘Our lives, too, are fleeting’, just like plum blossoms… If it really bothers, you that much you should just talk to her.” She advised. Aang quirked an eyebrow up and again turned to look at her as if saying easier said than done. “Katara obviously cares about you. Just tell her how you feel and ask her how she feels.”

He continued to look at her with that incredulous expression.

“You know, I’m actually going through something similar myself.”

She smiled at him faintly. Aang nodded a little in understanding. He was more than familiar about the amorous turmoil and ups and downs that she and the prince had had recently.

“I’ve messed up and - Spirits - You know Zuko’s messed up. I’m not expecting anything to happen, but I’m probably going to have to have this conversation with him soon.”

“What are you waiting for?” He asked.

“The right moment.”

Aang looked pensive for a moment before speaking. “I don’t think there’s a right moment.” He said wisely.

She sucked in her bottom lip and nodded while gazing out at the dark island before them. She hated to admit it but Aang was right. Didn’t have the time or means to set up some elaborate act to confess her feelings to him.

“You know, he really loves you.” She gave Aang a strange look. “I can see it. We can all see it.”

Xxx

"It seems like every time there's a big battle you guys barely make it out alive." Suki commented from her spot leaning cooly against the wall her arms crossed over her chest, "I mean, you guys lose a lot."

The group was currently on the intermission of Act II loitering around the corridor in between the balcony and the box seats dissecting their thoughts on the play.

"You're one to talk, Suki." Sokka retorted and he turned to look at her sarcastically, "Didn't Azula take you captive? That's right, she did."

Suki frowned at him and asked seriously, "Are you trying to get on my bad side?" She arched an eyebrow.

"I'm just saying." Sokka muttered in a smart-ass tone.

Katara walked into the corridor, looking around with a small frown.

"Does anyone know where Aang is?" Katara asked worriedly looking around the corridor for any sign of the young Avatar.

“Has anyone seen my sister?” Mecha asked as well as he finished his beverage.

"He left to get me fire gummies, like ten minutes ago." Sokka replied then pouted in irritation, "And I'm still waiting."

"I’m going to go check outside" Katara said walking away.

“If she comes back tell her I went to the restroom,” Mecha said over his shoulder as he left the group walking in an opposite direction.

Zuko remained sitting on the floor next to Toph. He looked up and observed as a boy dressed up as the Avatar came running out of a door down the hall, his arms spread out as he squealed happily pretending to fly.

Sokka stared at the boy as he ran past him and Suki and shook his head before looking over at his girlfriend leaning against the wall in front of him. "Hey Suki, what are the chances that you can get me backstage? I got some jokes I want to give to the actor me."

Suki straightened and stared at him with a deathly serious expression, "I'm an elite warrior who's trained for many years in the art of stealth." She said darkly. Her expression changed instantly, and she smiled brightly at him, "I think I can you backstage." She said cheerily.

Sokka blinked at her for several seconds then swallowed thickly and smiled at her nervously, "Great, let's go." She nodded and followed him down the hall, leaving Zuko and Toph sitting in the hall.

"Jeez." Toph shook her head in exasperation as she leaned against the wall between Zuko and the entrance to their viewing box, "Everyone's getting so upset about their characters.” She turned towards Zuko and smirked, "And you, you seem even more down than usual and that's saying something."

"You don't get it." Zuko muttered and he looked up at Toph with a frown that she couldn't see, "It's different for you. You get a muscle-y version of yourself taking down ten bad guys at once and making sassy remarks."

"Yeah," Toph snickered, "That's pretty great."

Zuko huffed and looked away from her, folding his arms on his knees and staring at the wall across from with an expression full of regret, "But for me, it takes all the mistakes I've made in my life and shoves them back in my face. My uncle...He's always been on my side even when things were bad. He was there for me. He taught me so much and how do I repay him?" He lowered his head to his knees and closed his eyes in shame, "With a knife in his back. It's one of my greatest regrets now and I may never get to redeem myself in his eyes…"

“And Tsai…” He ran a hand through his hair frustrated brining his hood over his head. “Everything I’ve done to her… Seeing it replayed all over again. And don’t even get me started on that stupid stereotype on women from the colonies.”

"You have redeemed yourself to your uncle." Toph stated matter-of-factly as she crouched down beside the older teen, resting her arms on her thighs, "You don't realize it, but you already have."

"How do you know?"

"Because I once had a long conversation with the guy." Toph replied, smiling a she remembered meeting Iroh after storming off and leaving her friends while they were being chased by Azula and her two friends. "All he would talk about was you."

Zuko lifted his head and lowered his hood, smiling slightly as he asked "Really?"

Toph snickered, "Yeah, and it was kind of annoying."

"Oh," Zuko looked away, but couldn't keep the smile off his face. "Sorry."

"But it was also very sweet." Toph continued. "All your uncle wanted was for you to find your own path and see the light. Now you're here with us. He'd be proud of you." She smirked.

“And Chili Pepper. Water under the bridge. Just talk to her.” Toph said encouragingly. “If you two suck it up I’m sure you’ll work out things and go back to making me want to barf my guts out.”

“How are you so sure?”

He wasn’t expecting Toph to punch his arm that hard.

"Ow!" Zuko hissed, rubbing his shoulder and frowning over at her. "What was that for?"

Toph smiled, "That's how I show affection."

“What are you guys up to?” Tsai suddenly approached them. It seemed like she was coming back from the balcony’s direction. She walked casually with her hands stretched behind her head seemed way more at ease than when she exited the Second Act of the play.

“I need to go wash my eyes,” she said bluntly using the fake excuse to leave the hallway and leave the two alone. “Hey,” Zuko stood up. “You okay?” He asked her concerned running a hand through his hair nervously. “The play… You know you’re not a whoozy. I don’t think you are either and I know neither does Uncle.” He nodded and paused for a brief moment. “And I think we should go backstage and teach Pu On Tima lesson.” He said determinedly popping his knuckle’s joints menacingly an angry look on his face.

She couldn’t help but smile a little and lower his hands at the suggestion of beating the living daylights out of the clown who wrote this trash. However as tempting as that was it would most definitely give them away.

The little boy form earlier ran out of the same door as before and stopped in front of the two of them. He smiled at the two and commented, “Awesome Zutsai costumes, but everybody knows Zutara is the superior ship.” The little boy said.

‘What the fuck is a Zutara?’She looked at the boy a perplexed look on her face.

“Also, your scar's on the wrong side." He pointed at Zuko’s face bluntly.

"The scar's noton the wrong side!" Zuko shouted angrily as the boy ran off. He yanked the hood back over his face with a scowl. She couldn’t help but bent over in laughter.

He turned around after shouting at the boy and turned to face the teen that was trying to stop her fits of laughter.

“And I don’t think your laugh is annoying.” He muttered cynically. Turning away from her. He suddenly felt hyper self-conscious about the ugly mark that scarred his face.

“Zuko,” she approached him with a loop-sided smile an endearing look in her eyes. She reached for the edges of his hood and looked at him before lowering it slightly. Aang was right. There would never be a right thing and this- this felt right.

“I love you.”

She wanted to say.

There was no embarrassment no crippling anxiety. It was just the honest truth. She successfully got halfway through the statement before being interrupted.

“What are you two dorks up to?”

An imaginary needle zipped on a record making a loud scratching noise that only the of them seemed to hear as they were brought back to reality.

She had never wanted to murder her brother as much as much as she did right now.

“Come on guys! Show’s about to start.” Sokka said casually. It sounded like he was munching on something.

Neither turned around and both heard how the rest of their friends all walked inside of the viewing box. They stood frozen in place not moving a muscle. Awkwardly petrified. She hadn’t even been able to lower her hands from the sides of his hood as she looked at him with a horrified bashful expression the color of her face blending with the roots of her hair. Zuko looked as if the air had been punched out of his gut. His eyes were large.

“Uh-“ She stammered and jerked her arms back to her side. “Act III is starting.” She said quickly before rushing inside to the viewing box before he had a moment to react.

“There’s no right moment.”She cursed Aang. ‘Idiot!’that was most definitely the worst advice she had ever received from anyone. Wasn’t he the Avatar? Wasn’t he supposed to be wise and all knowing?

She reached the box and stood aghast when she saw that the back row was full as Aang had taken a seat next to her brother and leaned forward sulking. Under normal circumstances she would’ve been concerned for her friend and presumed that the talk with his love interest did not go well, but she presently couldn’t care less. This was an emergency. She couldn’t sit in the front row next to him. Not after that – whatever the hell that had been happened.

“Hey,” she said quickly. “Can I-Can I trade seats with you Aang? I want to sit next to my brother.” She lied through her teeth.

Aang was too busy wallowing in his misery to do anything about it. “Tsai! Shhh,” her brother shushed her rudely. “Sit down, Act III is about to start I want to see if I come out towards the end.”

Zuko walked in and she felt caught like a deer dog caught in headlights. Instantly plopping down on the seat next to Katara who looked oddly at the girl that sat stiffly with her back at a perfect 90-degree angle.

She felt like she was sweating bullets and now she was stuck in this painfully awkward situation sitting next to him after his silent rejection.

She could’ve sworn she was sweating bullets. Even facing the Fire Lord hadn’t been this nerve-wrecking.

“Hey? Could you scooch?” Toph complained from the end before roughly pushing Katara to the side which pushed the two Fire Nationers against each other. “Much better.” Toph smirked triumphantly and sniggered lightly at the feeling of the rabbit-paced heartbeats of the two painfully awkward teenagers through the floor’s vibrations.

Tsai mumbled an apology before straightening out, he mumbled something similar.

Scene 22

Actress Katara stood on a fake submarine prop with Actress Aang, "I just want to let you know Aang, that I'll always love you." She placed her hands on her chest and sighed deeply with a wide smile, "Like a little brother."

"I wouldn't want it any other way!" Actress Aang chirped with enthusiasm taking Actress Katara's hand, both of them nodding at each other in a friendly gesture. Still beaming, Actress Aang snapped open her glider prop and raised it above her head as a rope pulled her up into the air while Actress Katara waved.

Aang gawked at the stage for a moment then flushed and yanked his hat down over his face, hiding behind his knees miserably. Katara glanced over her shoulder at him then looked away sadly.

‘What the hell was I thinking?’ Tsai’s mind was running a thousand miles an hour during her internal panic crisis. ‘He didn’t say anything. Why did he just stay quiet?’ She looked at him from the corner of her eyes his own golden orbs were attentively fixed on the play. A serious expression on his face. ‘He must think I’m crazy. Is it because I have a spirit in me? I’m so dumb. Why did I even listen to Aang? What the hell does he know about these things?’This was definitely the last time Tsai look love advice from a hundred and twelve-year-old.

She didn’t even notice that the scene was over.

"I guess that's it." Sokka commented as he stood up and stretched, "The play's caught up to the present now."

"Wait," Suki whispered, yanking Sokka back down and pointing towards the stage, "The play's not over."

"But it is over. Unless..." He trailed off and rubbed his chin thoughtfully before his eyes widened and he whispered in an overly dramatic and spooky voice, "This is the future!"

Scene 23

The stage was now pitch black. They all watched carefully as an actor portraying Fire Lord Ozai walked out from the darkness his sharp cheekbones and face being illuminated in a menacing lighting.

"With the energy harnessed from that comet, no one will be able to stop the Fire Nation!" Actor Ozai proclaimed evilly as an orange paper lantern was pulled across the now dimly light stage, the cut out comet passing over the throne.

"Father!" Actress Azula called out stiffly as she ran onto the stage and kneeled before oversized throne, "Zuko and the Avatar are at the palace! They are trying to stop you."

"You take care of Zuko." Actor Ozai pointed towards her and ordered harshly, before placing a hand on his chest melodramatically, "I shall face the Avatar myself!" He raised his hands and smoke filled the stage.

Actress Azula stood up as the smoke cleared, revealing that the Actor Ozai had disappeared. She turned just as Actor Zuko ran on stage from her left while Actress Aang was lowered to the stage floor.

"Aang, you fight the Fire Lord, I'll hold her off!" Actor Zuko instructed theatrically. Actress Aang nodded once and was pulled up by a rope out of the stage leaving Actor Zuko and Actress Azula alone on the stage.

Zuko’s eyes were fixed on the play but he wasn’t watching. Not really. His eyes bored straight ahead as he observed the stage confrontation between him and his sister. Something he knew was bound to happen sooner or later, but his mind was in a very distant place.

‘”I love-“ she had said. I love what? What was she going to say? Your face? Your costume? Wait- he wasn’t wearing a costume! Your jokes? Was it all a joke? Was she messing with his head?’ He looked at her from the corner of his eye. She sat stiffly her back completely straight. Her face twisted in an anxious expression as her eyes remained frozen starring at ahead at the play.

He would never know but internally she was having a meltdown. This had been a terrible. Terrible idea. Things had been fine! Well, not fine, but decent and now this happened?

His eyes lowered from her worried expression and he saw the way her hands were anxiously clutching and playing with the fabric of her clothes. He looked at them, the way her fingers squeezed her skirt and tugged at it.

"You are no longer my brother!" Actress Azula exclaimed, clenching her fists before flinging her arm out to the side. "You are an enemy!"

"No," Actor Zuko retorted and he pointed at Actress Azula, "I am the rightful heir to the throne!"

Actress Azula smirked slyly and narrowed her eyes, "We shall see."

He did it.

He placed his hand over hers. He eyed her expression from the corner of his eyes carefully looking for any micro emotion that might betray the mask she wore. Zuko felt as if it was the longest minute of his life when he felt her intertwining her fingers with his fitting perfectly. He saw the slightest of smiles bloom on her face. She turned to look at him from her peripheral vision and his expression mirrored hers. Both relaxed slightly at the gesture when their eyes met.

“HONOR!” Both of their attentions were once again captured by Zuko’s actor who raised his arms as if in pain after having been struck by one of Azula’s blue ribbons and wailed as he coiled into his destined fiery demise.

“And you!” He pointed at Tsai’s actress who had somehow entered the scene. “Scourge of the Fire Nation, the Greatest Traitor of them all! You will live the rest of your life in misery!”

Azula’s actress jumped and tossed the blue ribbons at her. “And you will neverhave tea again!”

Faux paper flames engulfed the actress as she also coiled in a fake fire wrap.

“Nooo! My tea!” She shouted reaching for the sky.

Actress Azula turned towards the audience and bowed along with Tsai and Zuko’s actors before being lowered through the stage’s trap door.

Tsai made a strangled noise as the audience began to cheer and applaud after Actor Zuko's apparent 'death'at the hands of Azula and the ‘imprisonment’ of the Fire Nation’s greatest traitor. Both starred in stunned disbelief at the stage.

This was their reality. Not hand holding in the comfortable darkness of a theatre.

Dread began to fill the group as they continued as the scene changed, the backdrop painted to resemble a red dragon's face.

Scene 25

The last and final scene of the play was the confrontation between the Avatar and Fire Lord Ozai. Like the rest of the play it had been depicted to appeal to audiences of the Fire Nation. In this version the Fire Nation triumphed over the resistance and defeated the Avatar. A terrible future which was not a distant reality.

"Nooooo..." Actress Aang wailed as she was circled with in a red cloth before the rope detached from her waist and she fell to the ground, the cloth spread out around her form symbolizing her consumption in flames. Ozai’s actor stood triumphantly above hovering from his throne with a cruel smirk plastered on his face. He then glanced over his shoulder as Actress Azula walked up behind him.

"It is over, Father." Actress Azula stated as she raised her arms triumphantly, "We've done it."

"Yes, we have done it!" Actor Ozai exclaimed and trusted a fist into the air dramatically before the space he was standing on began to rise up while papier mache and cut out flames surrounded him, "The dreams of my Father, and my Father's Father, have now been realized!" He threw his arms out and a massive Fire Nation banner unfurled behind him in a bold display of nationalism "The world is mine!"

The audience rose up with a vibrant cheer, loud applauding and deafening cheering as the audience clapped in a standing ovation over the triumph and victory of the Fire Nation over the world.

The group sat speechless in horrid disbelief at what they had witnessed. Aang swallowed the fearful knot that had formed in his throat and glanced away from the stage. Tsai felt her stomach churn uneasily as that haunting feeling of dread that kept her up at night returned to her. So much for getting their minds of things…

xxx

"That...wasn't a good play." Zuko muttered breaking the silence that had been lingering as the group walked down the worn path away from the theater.

"I'll say." Aang added flatly slouching as he dragged his feet away from the theater.

"No kidding." Katara muttered, crossing her arms and glaring at the ground. “Horrible,” Suki added from behind.

"You guys said it." Toph remarked with a scowl basically stomping her feet as she walked beside Katara. “I told you all it was a bad idea.” Tsai grumbled from the back. “But no- nobody everlistens to me.” She said dramatically. “I’ll give this one to you.” Her brother for once in his life agreed with her.

"But the effects," Sokka shrugged and waved his hand around matter-of-factly as he walked beside Suki, "Were decent."

xxx

Sunburn Chapter

M A S T E R L I S T

NEXT https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/622943347798081536/sunburn-prince-zuko-36 PREV https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/622676028408643584/sunburn-prince-zuko-34

51 notes · View notes

ellana-ravenwood · 5 years

Text

“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore...” 1/3 - Batfam x Reader (Marvel crossover)

A while ago, my computer got wrecked and I couldn’t afford to buy a new one. People suggested I open a “GoFundMe” and all and I ended up doing it. A lot of peeps came to my rescue, and I was able to buy a new computer...This story is for one of the people that helped. Thanks very much, Anna, for your 35 euros. It’s a huge amount (at least to me) and it really made my life better and helped achieve the goal of a new laptop. I hope you will like this story :

PART 2 My masterlist blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

“Klarion, NO !!”

“Klarion yes ! Hahahaha”

“You have no idea what it will do, you-”

Too late.

But of course, as if someone like Klarion would wait and listen to the Batman trying to reason with him.

Nope, double nope. He wanted to do it, and he didn’t care much about the consequences right now, as he was too excited ! Maybe he’ll regret it later, but that was his future self’s problem !

Klarion’s laugh is the last thing you hear, as a bright light encircles you all.

Your mother instinct kicking in, you grab your nearest kid, who happens to be Jason.

Frankly, as he’s the tallest out of all your children and is even a bit taller than his father, you can’t actually do much to protect him really. But when this specific instinct kicked in, you didn’t think about the technicalities of things, and just acted, grabbing his arm and yanking him to you. Holding him tightly, feeling like this was very important.

Damian wasn’t far either, and you were reaching for him when your world turned upside down. Your last sight was of your youngest boy trying to get to you…

A heavy dread fell on you, as you felt yourself being flung all around, clinging to Jason so you wouldn’t lose him too. Because as you saw Damian’s image fade into the light, it felt like this. Like you just lost all your kids but Jason. And lost Bruce too, while being thrown…wherever.

************

Klarion stole “Michael’s sword”.

The actual Archangel Michael.

It belonged, as of late, to Zauriel, a fellow Justice League member. But Klarion stole it, and ran away with it. And in a cruel twist of fate, he was last sighted in Gotham City and it was bestowed to your family to find him and bring the sword back. Zauriel was on his way when you caught up with the “Witch Boy”.

You found him below the city. In an old abandoned subway station, long out of use because weird things always happened in it. The city closed it down decades ago, putting all the problems it had on a disfunction in the electric system...But you knew the truth.

John Constantine took a look a while back, and said it was a place to keep an eye on as it had all the specificities to have gates open, whatever that meant really. He didn’t actually give more details...Typical Constantine.

Obviously, Klarion didn’t choose this place randomly.

Of course he didn’t.

Michael’s sword. A weapon capable of “tearing through realities” (according to Zauriel).

A place known to be favorable to “gate opening”.

Klarion.

Nothing was random. Duh.

************

And here you were, feeling like you’d been falling for ages. Just falling and falling, or were you standing still ?

All your senses were confused, and you couldn’t figure out wether your head was up or down. When the light finally died down, and you opened your eyes, you were…exactly in the same place ?

Still in that old abandoned subway station.

Except it was just you and Jason now.

The rest of your family was nowhere to be seen.

You let go of your son, who was looking very green.

Jason has always been car sick, so that weird trip across the light, not knowing wether you were up or down, must have been a nightmare for his weak stomach.

You almost smile at the thought of what people would think if they knew the ruthless Red Hood couldn’t handle an hour car trip without getting really nauseous (and oh my God you still remember the “Dineyworld’s tea cups debacle” for his 9th birthday).

Yes, you almost smile at the thought.

But you don’t.

Because right now, your biggest worry wasn’t the fact that your kid might throw up (though you took a few steps away from him, worst case scenario, you’d comfort him after), instead, it was...where were your other children ? Where’d they go ? And Bruce ? Were they ok ?

You could only hope that just like you, they just ended up...elsewhere. But were safe. Because except for Jason feeling nauseous, he didn’t seem to have anything wrong with him. And you were definitely fine.

At least, the thought of this was comforting. There was no reasons that you and Jason came out of “this” (whatever “this” was) unharmed, and the rest of your family would get hurt...Right ?

And that dread that took over you as the blinding light appeared came back full force. When you started to be tossed around in that “light” (or were you just standing still and everything moved around you ?), that feeling that you might lose your family forever wouldn’t leave you.

Zauriel used Michael’s Sword to change dimension, and you assumed this was what just happened, right ?

What if you all ended up in different universes ? How would you ever get back to each others ?! Oh God did that mean that Damian was on his own ?! But he was so young !! And Tim too !

Oh who were you kidding ?

The fact that even Dick, who was a grown man, or Bruce, who clearly could handle himself, were alone stressed you the hell out too.

Because who knew where they’d end up ?! What if they were in a hostile world ?! You were starting to hyperventilate a little bit at the mere thought of not seeing them ever again, when you felt a comforting warm hand on your shoulder.

“Are you ok, mom ?”

This brought you back to your senses in a matter of seconds.

Every time one of your kids would try to reassure you, this motherly instinct that was always inside you would kick in. Because in your head, you were supposed to comfort them in tough times. Reassure them when they were scared.

Be there at their worst moments, ready to pick them up.

You smile at him, and take a good look around. And that’s when you start to see the slight differences between Gotham’s station and this one.

The architecture is almost same, but the colors aren’t. And there, in the corner, instead of the “Gotham City” you’re used to see, it reads “New York City”. Mm. Which NYC though ?

It seems like you’re in a similar world, at least the subway looked the same. But what would you find once you’d get out ?

You turn to Jason, who looked more worried about you than the situation he was currently in, and with a smile, you say :

“Well my boy, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore...”

************

One quick look around, and Bruce knew he wasn’t in Gotham anymore.

He knew his city by heart, and though some of the architecture was similar, he was sure he wasn’t home no more. He actually was pretty certain to be in New York City.

When the light died down, and he opened his eyes, he was in an alleyway that could’ve been one in Gotham but wasn’t.

And his family was gone.

So Bruce entered his “dark mode”, as you’d call it. Where he shuts out all of his emotions and focuses on whatever the problem he’s faced with is.

It was his “defensive mode”, the one he would enter to not lose his mind. Because right now, if he was thinking for too long about the fact that you all most likely were scattered in different dimensions...he would lose it.

The chances of ever finding all of you were extremely low, even if he managed to find Klarion and Michael’s sword. There were billions and billions of different dimensions, and Bruce was already calculating the probabilities of ever finding his kids and wife again...It would most likely take him a lifetime to even just find one...

So Bruce didn’t think about that, and instead focused on his surroundings.

He was pretty sure he was in New York City. And that he was in a World similar to his original one. It wouldn’t quite make sense for Klarion to use the sword just to move through space. He could always just use magic...Mmm...This was arising another question.

Why did Klarion need the sword anyway ?

He already had the ability to travel through dimensions by opening gates. He never struggled to do it, so why would he need Michael’s sword ? Bruce was trying to think of every possible reasons, but he couldn’t quite find any.

Mainly because even if he was trying to shut down his emotions, he couldn’t help but think about what happened to you and his children. If you were harmed in any way, he had absolutely no way of knowing. Which was driving him crazy.

And what if you’ll never see each others again ? Bruce didn’t think he could survive living in a world without any of you...No. No he couldn’t think about that, or he’d crumble ! Ok. First things first.

He installed trackers in your costumes a long time ago (he was pretty sure that, except maybe for Tim, none of you knew that fact). There was a slim chance you’d all end up in the same world, but there was still a chance. Even if it was just one of you, it was better than none.

Bruce Wayne was never really a hopeful man. Life taught him that hoping for good things to happen never ended well...But right now, as he activated the trackers, he hoped to every gods he knew that you did indeed beat all statistics and ended up in the same World.

The familiar “beep” of the trackers resonated in his earpiece. One. Two. Three. Four. And five. And...

************

Damian opened his eyes after the bright light disappeared and...He was standing on the roof of a building, all alone.

“Ummi ?”

Was the first thing to come out of his mouth.

The last thing he remembered, was trying to hold onto you. But the light “grabbed” him and threw him all around...and here he was.

At the top of this building.

All alone.

Was he still in Gotham ? Most likely not. His father’s briefing of the situation said that Michael’s sword had the ability to “transport” people into different dimensions. Was it it ? Was he in a different dimension ?

It looked similar enough to his. He bend down to look at the streets below. Cars, people dressed like they were dressed in Gotham, dogs on leash (of course Damian would notice the dogs).

Yellow cabs. Mm. So he was in NYC huh ?

He twisted his neck to try to see more of what was happening down there. Maybe there were some things that weren’t quite like back home. Or maybe there would be a confirmation that he was still in his own World, but just not in Gotham anymore ?

Damian was wishing with all his might that the sword malfunctioned and send Klarion to another dimension, but only send him and his family through space, and teleported them in other places of their own world. Because if you were all scattered through multiple dimensions, how would you ever find each others ?

Even if Damian felt in his heart that nothing could stop you or his dad to find him...realistically it would still be very difficult right ? If not impossible ?

He’d like to think that nothing was impossible for you, when you entered “full on mom mode”, but this was quite the situation. He hunched over the side of the building even further, thinking that maybe he could-

“You shouldn’t bend down that much at such a high height, buddy. If you fall, you’ll be as flat as a pizza.”

Damian turned around in one move, taking a fighting stance, ready for whatever.

In front of him was a guy, raising his hands into the air to show he meant no harm, and wearing a red and blue costume from head to toes, with...was that a spider drawn on his chest ?

************

Dick couldn’t breathe, and he couldn’t understand why.

The blinding light wasn’t enveloping him anymore, but he still couldn’t figure out where he was, or wether the world was up or down. He flailed his arms around, trying to get his balance back, but all his senses were disoriented.

Everything was so cold as well, the world around him was so damn blurry and Dick just couldn’t find an exit to it all.

He felt like he was slowly loosing consciousness when...

Someone grabbed his arm, and then he felt a similar sensation than when he was in the light, but not quite the same thing.

And all of a sudden, he could breathe again, and the world was slightly warmer.

“Mein Gott, what would make a man want to jump into the Hudson river by such a weather, I wonder !”

River ? Oh. It would make sense. Now that Dick could breathe again, and he slowly started to regain his senses, it did feel like he was in water. But after whatever that light travel was, he was just too confused to understand what was going on.

He slowly opened his eyes, and was faced with the most eclectic group of people he ever saw.

“Ya alright bub ?”

One of them asked. Dick rubbed the dirty water completely out of his eyes and finally took a good look at them, sitting up on the cemented dock they dragged him on (he assumed they were the one that got him out of the water somehow?)

The man who talked was short and stocky, very hairy too. Definitely not conventionally handsome, and yet he had an aura about him that made Dick think he must be quite a man !

Next to him, was the most beautiful woman Dick ever saw. Tall, dark skinned, incredible white hair... She looked worried about him, and if Dick had regained all his senses by then, he would have most certainly said the cheesiest pick-up line that ever existed ! Wow !

Finally, right next to her, was a...fuzzy blue man ? He had a bright friendly smile and...a tail ? Um, ok ? I mean, Dick saw weirder in his vigilante career but somehow, those three made him feel like he was actually in a dream.

However as his brain slowly started to function normally again, he just as slowly came to the conclusion that...Ah of course. Michael’s sword. Other dimensions. Mm. Where the Hell did Klarion send him, exactly ?

And were was the rest of his family ?!

************

Tim knew immediately he wasn’t in his original world.

Mainly because he was immediately faced with a tall blond guy threatening him with a hammer (????) and a massive green...man (?????) in purple shorts.

The light barely disappeared, and his eyes were just adapting to the surrounding daylight, that he heard a thunderous (haha) voice yelling :

“WHERE IS MY BROTHER ?!”

And bam, he was held upside down by the huge green man. Strangely, his hand around his ankle was rather delicate, given the size of him...Tim had no doubts that that dude could crush him if he wanted to. But for now, it seemed like holding him upside down was enough.

Tim was known to be one of the most quick witted of your family, and that was for a reason. Even as he just came out of a very confusing event, where all his senses were attacked, his brain was working a hundred miles per hours.

This was definitely not his World, his family was gone, and those two guys were definitely meta-humans (if they were humans). They were most likely some of this dimension’s heroes. Tim came to this conclusion thanks to their costume, and the fact they didn’t immediately kill him. Then again, maybe they were just waiting to question him about that “brother”, and were actually villains.

A quick look around and it seemed like this world was somewhat similar to his, as he saw cars passing by a bit further. Him and the two dudes where in a park, and given how big it looked, even as he saw everything upside down, Tim guessed it must be Central Park.

After all, this particular place was easily recognizable.

Connections were quickly made in his brain, and only a few seconds passed as he came to all those conclusions.

Ignoring the voice in his head whispering to him that his family was probably lost in other dimensions too, and that it would be statistically impossible to ever find them again if it truly was the case, he focused on his current situation.

“Where is my brother little man ? We know he’s been in contact with you for the past few months, now tell us where he went ?!”

Brother ? In contact with him for months ? Once again, Tim’s quick thinking definitely came in handy to him.

“I think you have the wrong person, and that we have the same end goal !”

“Is this a trick ? We won’t fall into it, if you’re working with my brother you cannot be trusted !”

“Wait let me finish ! My name is Red Robin and I’m pretty sure I’m not actually from here. I come from a place called Gotham City, and I was, along with my...sidekicks, following a guy called Klarion who stole a sword that allows people to travel through dimensions. I think he’s the guy you’re after.”

The blond man seemed to think about what Tim just said, looking at him deep in the eyes, as if trying to see if he was lying or not. It seemed like what he saw in Tim’s eyes satisfied him enough as he gestured to his friend (?) and the green dude put Tim back on the ground (once again, being surprisingly delicate for his size and stature).

“Alright, I looked into your soul and decided you were a trustworthy man. Well. Trustworthy boy, really. After all our radar indicated multiple places where gates to other dimension opened, so it means that not just my brother’s friend came in. I am called Thor Odinson, from Asgard. And this is my good partner Hulk.”

Thor ? As in…God of Thunder Thor ? Well, the hammer suddenly made sense.

“Hulk happy no smash little man. Hulk not like hurting little men.”

“Um. I’m…also happy you didn’t … « smash » me.”

Tim said a bit awkwardly, and the green giant smiled widely at him. It was kind of cute. But also terrifying. Tim turned towards Thor and asked :

“Thor ? So your brother is…Loki ?”

Thor looked surprised, and, raising his eyebrows and becoming suspicious again, asked :

“You know him ?”

“Well, not really. I just know my North mythology. Which I guess isn’t mythology in this World…Mm, interesting.”

“Do you always talk to yourself like that boy ?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Sorry about that. So. Loki. Is he the God of Mischief here too ?”

“Yes he is ! How do you-”

“Sorry to cut you off mister Thor, but I think I might know what is going on right now...”

************

“Well, I guess our only option is to go up ?”

You tell Jason, looking at the stairs that seem to be the only exit out of this place. Your son is about to reply when...he just start to stares at you, eyes wide. You barely have the time to ask what is going on that he jumps on you and tackles you to the floor, protecting you with his entire body.

And then...

Then nothing happens.

“What the hell Jace ?!”

You say, pushing him off of you though he seems reluctant to move.

What got into your son ? He’s looking around like a crazy person now, until his eyes focus on a specific spot and he gets one of the batarang he stole from his father out and shoots.

“OUTCH, MOTHERFUC-”

There’s a soft sound of someone falling on the concrete, and you can’t help but be very confused about what the hell just happened. Who the hell just yelled and...what ?!

Jason bolts on his feet and runs towards the source of the sound. He disappears in the shadow for a few seconds, before dragging a man out of it.

Your son looks absolutely pissed, even though he’s the one that shot that...who was that dude ?

He was wearing a red and black costume and could very well have been a super from your World. But you’ve definitely never seen him before. He had the batarang stuck in his shoulder. In his hand he had...a laser pointer ?

And all of a sudden, connections were made in your head. Jason throwing you on the floor and covering you with his body, then getting angry, the stranger with a batarang in his shoulder, the laser pointer...You crease your eyebrow and turn to your son, hitting him on the chest.

“Don’t you ever do that again !”

“Outch, sorry mom but I thought he was going to shoot you ! What was he doing pointing a laser at you for no reasons like that anyway ?!”

“What ? No that’s not the problem, that guy’s definitely fishy. I’m mad about you protecting me by jumping in front of me like that ! What were you thinking ? If something happened to you I don’t know what...AAAAH !”

You hit him once more and turn around, trying to hold back the tears that came to your eyes and choking on your own voice. Damn it. They always did that. Your kids and Bruce. They always goddamn jumped in front of a bullet or some stupid shit like that ! Not realizing you’d rather die than live without one of them.

You already had to live through the death of almost all your sons. You couldn’t handle this kind of thing anymore. So whenever they’d do such a thing, you’d get all choke up and angry at them. How dare they...how dare they ?!

Jason was rubbing his neck awkwardly, not knowing what to do as you turned your back to him and was sniffling loudly...man, you could be so sensitive sometimes. Though he guessed the fact that he was basically ready to sacrifice himself for you was reason enough to shake you up.

He was about to reach for you when the stranger who was playing with that damn laser pointer started to move again. Without thinking about it Jason reached for him and immobilized him on the floor, saying :

“Not so fast buddy. You’re gonna tell me who you are and what you want with us ?!”

“Wow wow wow, if you want me to explain stop blocking my airways like that “buddy”. Sorry for the bad joke ok ? I haven’t been a superhero for long, I don’t know all the specificities about the job ok ? But you know what, don’t joke around with laser pointer, dully noted.”

“Jason, let him go. You’re knee is most definitely stopping him from breathing. It’s quite something he managed to say such a long sentence really...”

Reluctantly, Jason let go of the man, but kept a careful eye on him. If that guy was trying ANYTHING, especially towards his mom, he was dead. And Jay didn’t care that he promised not to kill anymore, if one of his family member was in danger, he wouldn’t hesitate !

“Pfewwww. Thank you lady, you...Oh. Wow. You’re beautiful. Do you want to ma-”

Rolling your eyes, you catch your son’s arm before he shoots yet another batarang, and make a head gesture to the stranger so he’d continue talking.

“Ok sorry, it’s your mom, I get it, you don’t like hearing about how hot she is. You’re defending your daddy’s honor...if um, there is a daddy ?”

“There is one yes. And he’s extremely jealous, and some would say violent.”

You roll your eyes again. Though Jason isn’t wrong, if Bruce was here, you’re pretty sure another batarang would have been thrown. The dude with the laser pointer continue :

“Ok ok sorry. I’ll stop now. My name’s Deadpool, I’m a hero in training and was send by the Avengers to fetch you two.”

Silence. Deadpool ? Avengers ? ...hero in training ? But “Deadpool” takes your silence as you not believing him so he adds :

“Ok ok, heroes aren’t suppose to lie either I heard. So what if I wasn’t really send by the Avengers ? And what if I’m not really in training but more like stalking them to see how they’re doing things ? Is there really a difference ? They were coming to get you anyway. I just reached you first.”

A few more seconds of silence, and as your brain is trying to work everything out, “Deadpool” starts to hum an elevator music. Jason is the first one to break the silence :

“You said “they” were coming to get us ? How do you know where we were ?”

“Ah ok so, and I know that totally not because I hacked into their surveillance system and am spying on it, but I heard them talk about dimension gates opening kind of everywhere in New York, and having to check it out. So I got one of the location, that happened to be the one that was the least specific because, I guess since you’re underground their surveillance system wasn’t as performant...like I’m pretty sure there’s lead in those walls so...maybe it’s like a certain hero wearing his underwear above his pants, can’t see through it ?”

“Did you just refer to Superman ?”

“Who ? I have no idea what you’re talking about. But in any case they’re looking above ground. I think they don’t know this old abandoned subway station exist. But I do. And here I am, finding you before them.”

“Ok um...”

“Deadpool.”

“Right, Deadpool. You keep referring to “them”, who are they ?”

“The Avengers !”

“Ok...”

“The Justice League of this universe.”

“Did you just-”

“No. I didn’t.”

“You’re-”

“I’m not. Hey now come on, Cap and Iron man are just up there, I bet they’d love to meet y’all. And maybe I’d get back on their good side if I’m the one bringing you to them.”

You exchange a look with your son, and you know you’re both thinking the same thing. There is NO WAY you’re going to follow that mad man. But then he says :

“By the way they’re not the only team that was sent all around NYC to find you and the others that arrived at the same time than you. I’m assuming you know them ? If you want to see those other guys again, you should follow me.”

Once again, you exchange a look with your son, except that this time, it’s full of hope. Could it be ? Or is he lying ? He doesn’t really have any reason to lie, after all, but what if ? Was this a false hope and you were about to get your heart crushed when you’ll realize he’s not talking about the rest of your family ? What if it’s a trap ?

You have no knowledge of this world after all, those Avengers could very well be super-villains or whatever.

But as you look at the man, and though you can’t really see his face with his mask...your guts are telling you he’s saying the truth.

And so, making sure Jason was on board, you nod and follow him out of the abandoned subway station. Still being ready to fight, just in case.

************

The trackers are on, and Bruce’s heart starts to beat like crazy.

They all turned on, and you were all very close from each others ! By some miracle, you all ended up in the same universe ! Or did Klarion plan this ?

Ah but for now, Bruce couldn’t think about that, because you were all here. In this World. Not scattered across the multiverse. He was going to see you all again. He was going to see you all again !

For some reasons, you were all converging towards the same place. Bruce’s eyes narrowed. Were you ok ? Oh if you were harmed, he was ready to let hell break lose on whoever did anything to you !

Now, his heart was beating to the rythm of his stress.

What if you were all hurt ? What if you had been less lucky than him and fell on ill intentioned people ? Kidnapped ? What if you ended up in a part of town that was hostile ? After all, he knew nothing of this world, except for the fact it was somewhat similar to his own...but to what extent ?

Bruce’s mind was racing, raging, he was-

“Seems like he or she is already gone.”

“Ah come on Clint, we didn’t even look.”

“Well nobody is here. And honestly I don’t really fancy looking for “someone” we don’t even know in the entire city. You can though, I’ll look at you while eating pizza. There’s a great restaurant just around the corner from here and-”

Bruce, hidden in the shadows, was listening intently to the two strangers who arrived.

One was wearing a black and purple costume, and had a bow strapped to his back. The other one was a woman, wearing all black, crazy beautiful red hear surrounding her face.

They were clearly looking for him, and as Bruce wondered why their wrist watches started to beep.

There was a small silence, as they seemed to listen to something, and then the man the woman called “Hawkeye” turned to her and said :

“Ah, well I guess we won’t have to search for anyone now huh ?”

“I wonder why Spider-Man is calling us back. He said it was important to thoroughly check any discrepensies the system was showing, and now...”

“Ah well you know what they say, Stark is a genius. People rarely understand geniuses. People like us. Normal, totally normal people.”

The woman scoffs and shakes her head, before saying :

“Ah well, I guess there’s some news. Come on smart ass, let’s go see what is up. They said they caught some of them, I’m curious as to what actually happened...”

Some of them ?

Bruce’s blood froze and boiled at the same time.

Were they talking about his family ? Looking at the trackers on his 3D map, Bruce calculated the direction the two strangers were taking and...it seemed everyone was converging to the same spot.

Without hesitating, Bruce started to follow them.

***********

“I’m not here to hurt you. What are you doing up here all alone ? ”

Damian didn’t lose his fighting stance, and eyed the man with the spider costume suspiciously.

“Who are you ?”

“Ok ok calm down little dude. I’m really not here to fight ok ? Unless you’re here to fight. Are you ?”

“Depends, do you want to fight ?”

“Not particularly. Especially not with a kid.”

“I’m not just a regular kid !”

“Yes, the mask and cape makes that much clear. Are you a super ? I’m one too, I’m one of the good guys !”

“That’s exactly what a villain would say !”

“Ah, you got me there...um...Listen, I’m really not here to fight ok ?”

“Who are you ?”

“Spider-Man.”

“Spider-man ?”

“Spider-man.”

“...You have spider superpowers ?”

“Pretty much. Anything a spider does, I can do too.”

“Spiders can do a lot of things...”

“I can do a lot of things. And even more.”

Damian detected no animosity in that “Spider-man”, and slowly disengaged his fighting stance.

“I’m Robin.”

“Ok. Ok cool. Like the bird ?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Can you do what birds do ?”

“...Not really. Metaphorically, I guess.”

“Oh. Ok. So um, Robin, what are you doing here ?”

“I’m not sure. We were after a...bad guy, and then I ended up here.”

“We ?”

“My parents and brothers.”

“Ok ok. And where are they now ?”

Damian didn’t know why, but faced with that Spider guy, he felt all his emotions about the possible loss of his family surge all at once. Maybe it was because, even though he was fully masked, Spider-Man was reminded him of his older brothers ?

There was a sort of brotherly aura surrounding that guy.

And so Damian’s shoulder flopped down, and letting his sadness catch to him, he said, voice breaking at the end :

“I don’t know...”

Damian could feel the tears slowly rising to his eyes. It was so strange.

But that Spider-Man made him want to show his true feelings ? Again, must be because he reminded him of his older brothers. But it was also the fact that Damian knew now that he wasn’t in his own world, and that there was a high chance he would never see his parents and siblings ever again.

And all that emotions ? Well until then he kind of kept it in check, but faced with Spider-man’s gentle voice, Damian kind of cracked. It didn’t happen to him often, that he felt like the kid he actually was. But here, in this other world, all alone...Well, he just wanted his Ummi.

And she wasn’t there. And it was scary, and lonely, and what if he was going to never see any of his family member again ?! But Damian still stayed strong. He did not cry. Though he really wanted to.

“Um ok, ok. Where did you see them last ?”

“Before the light.”

“The light ?”

And without quite knowing why, Damian started to say everything that had happened so far to that total stranger. But there was just something about Spider-Man, that made the boy instantly trust him.

Maybe it was his gentle voice, or the fact he wasn’t rushing him. Maybe it was how he first talked to him, or how calm he seemed. Or maybe it was how clearly Damian could see that he was indeed one of the good guy, and had a kind heart ? Your youngest son didn’t even talk to Spider-Man for more than a few seconds, but he felt it in his guts.

He was definitely one of the good ones. Maybe one of the best ones.

Damian wasn’t quite sure why, but he just trusted him.

“Ok so that would explain a lot. I’m um, from a team of superheroes ? We’re called the Avengers.”

“What are you avenging ?”

“What are we avengi...um...nothing in particular. It’s just our name.”

“Oh.”

“...Anyway. We have a defense system against invasion from other dimensions okay ? And it went haywire not long ago. Multiple gates got opened.”

“Multiple ? How many ?”

“I don’t know, a few. I just received a call from mister Stark, and he gave me your location.”

“How did you know I wasn’t a bad guy ?”

“You’re just a kid.”

“The guy who send us here is also technically just a kid.”

“Yeah well...My spidersense didn’t went on when I approached you so...”

“Spidersense ?”

“Like a sixth sense that warns me whenever a threat is about to happen ?”

“Sounds useful. And made up. Spidersense ?”

But as he thought about it further, Damian actually realized it didn’t sound that ridiculous in the end. After all, his father also had the bad tendency to put “bat” in front of every words too...

“Well it’s not made up. And it usually helps me knowing wether people have good intentions or not. And you ? You weren’t hostile. Just scared.”

Well, that much was true...Damian really was scared. Scared to never see his family again.

“Listen, come with me and we’ll try to clear things up ok ? Try to find your parents and brothers, ok ?”

Yes. Yes there was definitely something in Spider-Man that reminded him of his older siblings. He had Dick’s way of talking, and Tim’s talent to find exactly the right words. But also Jason’s stupidity. Geez. “Spidersense” ?!

But all of that made Damian want to trust him. Ah, it’s not like he had much other options anyway...

************

“Wow, this is so cool ! I mean, I flew on someone’s back once, but this is so much-aaaaaaaaah- cooler !”

Damian was holding onto Spider-man’s back who was flinging from building to building thanks to his webs. They were going so fast, and Spider-man was so in control of their fall and all ! It was awesome !

“Haha right ? Ah look, that’s the Avengers’ tower !”

“Oh geez, can you be more obvious ?”

Damian couldn’t see it, but under his mask, Spider-Man blushed a bit. It’s true that the place wasn’t particularly discreet, what with the gigantic neon lighted “A” on the side of the building...

************

At first, he thought they were going to think he was crazy. But then the short hairy man said “he ain’t lying” and they just kind of rolled with it (later, Dick would learn that that said guy had the ability to “smell” when people lied).

Plus they apparently heard weirder in their lives. Which didn’t really surprise your son much, they definitely looked like they went through many adventures.

After Dick explained what had happened to him, and his theory as to how he actually ended up in the goddamn Hudson river, they started to do some explaning themselves in return.

Dick had to admit, this was all a lot of informations for him to take in, right after almost drowning. But he was aware all of this was important. He was stranded in an unknown world, the more he knew the better it was. Even more so since he was learning valuable informations.

Like the fact that “Storm”, “Nightcrawler” and “Wolverine” (the name of the people who saved him) were where he appeared after the defense system from a team called the “Avengers” received warnings that tears in the reality were opening kind of everywhere in NYC.

A guy named...Tony Stank ? Or something like that ? Dick received so many infos that he didn’t catch everyone and everything’s names.

In any case, that guy settled a security system all around the World that would instantly detect any otherworldly threats after their dimension was attacked by aliens years ago (man could Dick relate...), and that’s what warned them about the tears in reality.

They told him there had been seven gates opened, and Dick’s hope went high all of a sudden. Seven ? Including him ? His mom, dad, Jason, Tim, Damian and Klarion. Plus him. Seven. Please, oh please Gods make it so that it really was his family members, and not other errors because of whatever Klarion did with the sword.

But for now, Dick climbed into a car with his saviors, hoping they’ll be able to help out find the rest of his family (if it really was them in the other gates). Thanks to “Wolverine” they trusted him, and were now bringing him to...

“So, we’re going to the...Avengers’ tower ?”

“Exactly mein Freund. It’s quite the place. Not as interesting as the Xavier Institute, but still quite the place. Wolverine here was giving us a private visit of the building. We’re not Avengers you see ? We’re X-Men, but Wolverine here is both.”

“The...Xavier Institute ? X-men ?”

“Our school for mutants. And our team of mutants.”

“Mutants ?”

“Yes, mutants. People with special abilities.”

“Superpowers ?”

“Here we go.”

The woman called “Storm” (a codename, certainly. Dick himself told them he was called “Nightwing”, just in case) rolled her eyes and said :

“Nightcrawler, relax on all the informations. The poor boy is going to be completely lost. We already told him a lot.”

Dick gave her a thanksful look. He already started to like a lot those three people, but he was having an information overdose and couldn’t follow much anymore. And so, for the rest of the way, he started to talk to them about his original world. It was more relaxing to do so, really...

************

“So you think that Klarion, is the one that communicated with my brother ?”

“I’m almost 100% sure yes, their personality seems to really fit each others.”

“On a scale from an angry raccoon to Ragnarök, how dangerous the both of them could be together ?”

“Well I’m not too familiar with the Loki of this World, but if he’s anything like in the mythology stories from mine ? Then we’re very close from total Mayhem indeed.”

“So, Ragnarök.”

“Yes, Ragnarök.”

Tim said dramatically, as Thor’s eyebrows almost joined each others in the middle of his brow from the force with which he creased it.

“That’s not good.”

“You don’t say.”

“No, I do say it.”

“It’s an expression...”

“An expression of what ?”

“...Nevermind. So, where are we going ?”

Tim was sitting on Thor’s back as he was...swirling his hammer around so that he could fly ? And Hulk was following them closely, jumping from building to building.

“The Avengers’ tower. Where my friends are. They’ll find a solution for sure, they’re very smart. Like you.”

“How do you know I’m smart ?”

“Well little man, you kept your cool as Hulk was holding you upside down, and managed to form theories as to what is happening in matter of seconds. Even an idiot like me can get that you’re very smart.”

“Thank you. I don’t think you’re an idiot.”

“Oh believe me, when it comes to hitting things ? I’m great. But I often let my emotions overwhelm me and tend to just jump into a situation without forming a plan first.”

“Well, at least you seem very self-aware of your flaws ?”

“Not even ! I’m only repeating what Bruce told me.”

“Bruce ?”

“Yes, the green guy down there. Sometimes he’s Hulk, sometimes he’s Bruce.”

“Ah, kind of like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde ?”

“Exactly like that ! Well when he’s Dr. Jekyll, he’s very smart too. And a great therapist.”

“He’s a therapist ?”

“No, he’s a scientist.”

“Oh. Ok...”

There was a short silence, before Tim started again :

“I still don’t think you’re an idiot. If you truly launched yourself in a situation without thinking, then you would have crush me with your hammer, right ?”

Thor’s face brightened, and he turned to him :

“Ah, you’re right !”

“I think you’re too harsh on yourself. Don’t listen to what Bruce says, Bruces have the tendency to think they know everything but they can definitely be wrong.”

“You know a Bruce too ?”

“Yes, my dad.”

“Is he like my Bruce ?”

“He’s also somewhat of a scientist. And he says things like your Bruce seems to say a lot too.”

Tim smiled at Thor, who smiled back. For some reasons, your son felt like he could trust that Thor guy. He seemed a bit too naive for his own good, for sure, but he also seemed very kind. And no matter what he thought of himself, Tim knew he wasn’t as stupid as he said he was.

He probably just had some confidence issues (even though he was technically a damn god !), and if he was hanging around geniuses he...Oh god. Tim stopped his thinking, as he realized he was starting to sound like his father !

But he didn’t have time to be freaked out by that thought, as Thor said :

“Well, we’re here ! The Avengers’ tower !”.

************

“Ah, seems like we’re the first here. You can sit down and-”

“DAMIAN !”

Spider-man jumped to the ceiling in surprise, and turned to the source of the sound. It was a woman, with a costume kind of similar to the boy he took with him to the tower. And with her, was a guy he never saw with a red helmet, and...Deadpool ?!

The boy stood up from the seat he just took, and ran as fast as he could towards the woman. And from the way she grabbed him and held him tight against her heart, Spidey guessed it must have been his mom.

For some reason, the fact that this little one found his mom back made Peter incredibly giddy. He didn’t know that kid since very long, only a handful of hours (time for them to cross New York thanks to his webs), but he already felt oddly protective over him. As if he was his little brother or something.

“Oh my God, are you ok ?”

“Yes yes I’m fine, are you ?”

The woman was now checking every inch of Robin’s body, looking for bruises and such, inspecting his face with attention. Satisfied that he seemed unharmed, she went back to hugging him, kind of suffocating the poor kid a bit.

“I was so scared I’d never see you again...”

Damian held you back with force, clearly sharing your fears. But everything was alright now. Well, not quite everything as most of the family was still missing. But at least, he wasn’t alone anymore. He had his Ummi back. And you always found ways to soothe and reassure him. No matter what the situation was.

Jason approached his mom and little brother, and ruffled Damian’s hair. His heart skipped a beat as Damian let go of his mom to hug his older brother. The boy’s head barely reached above his belt (Jason really was the tallest one), but he hugged him back.

Of course. Damian truly was afraid he had lost his family for good, so he didn’t care to keep up appearances and act as if this all thing didn’t touch him. He was glad to have one of his big brother back, he was gonna show it.

Distracted by that heartfelt reunion, Spider-Man didn’t notice Deadpool slowly moving towards him. It’s only when the man whispered in his ear :

“Hey Spidey...”

That once again, he jumped to the ceiling, sticking up there with ease...And then he came back down, his mask creased in “anger”.

“What are you doing here Wade ?!”

“Ah well you see, I found those two at one of the tears location. I found them BEFORE Cap and Iron Man. But when I wanted to go introduce them to Cap and Stark, they started to shoot at me ! At us ! So we narrowly escaped and I took them here.”

“Of course they shot at you Wade, after what you did last time we saw you ! And how the hell do you know about the tears ? And how did you get into the building ?!”

“Ok. What did I do last time ? Don’t remember a thing. Also for professional secret reasons I can’t answer your two other questions. What if you use my informations to infiltrate the Avengers ?”

“...I AM an Avenger ! And you’re not !”

“Are you sure it’s not the other way around ?”

“No I-”

“Um, excuse me, but could you two fight another time ? We have bigger problems in front of us.”

Spidey turned around, to be faced with Thor and Hulk. And a third person he never saw before, but again, his costume was similar to Robin.

“Tim !” Damian saw him first, and rushed to him. And oh Tim knew that his little brother must really have been through quite an ordeal, if he was calling him by his first name AND hugging him like that.

Well, getting thrown into a different dimension and separated from your family was quite traumatic really. So traumatic in fact, that Tim didn’t quite register immediately that by some miracle, he just found half of his family back !

After a few more hugs, and you not wanting to let go your two youngest son...

“Ah, it’s a cute tupperware reunion ?”

A voice with a heavy German accent said from the entrance. Jason, who was the closest from there, got tackled first...by Dick.

The voice was Nightcrawler’s, and he just had arrived with his friends and Dickie. And your oldest son definitely didn’t hide how relieved he was to be reunited with his little siblings and his mom.

Only one person was missing now, but there was no reasons to think he got transported into another universe than this one. And hope wouldn’t leave you, as you thought of your husband, hoping a team of those “Avengers” reached him too...

Ah. They reached him alright.

Right after you gave a huge kiss on your oldest son’s cheek to welcome him back, two new people entered...dragging your Bruce tied up behind them.

What the hell ?

Ah but of course, maybe he fell on people that were a bit more...heated than those on whom you fell (well, you admit that that Deadpool guy was quite something really) and got into a fight ?

You couldn’t possibly see him lose though. What happened ? What power did those two persons hold to manage to catch your husband like that ?

Oh but as your eyes met his, you suddenly realized his angle and before you could warn him that they weren’t hostile, he already entered in action.

He got rid of the metal ropes tying him up. And as the archer and that redhead woman who brought him in just stared in amazement, he tied them up with some of his batropes, and they both fell heavy on the floor. He then managed to jump in between you and your kids, and the rest of those “Avengers” people.

“I don’t know who you are, but know that I rigged the entire building with enough explosives to do a lot of damage, and help us escape. So let us go without any fight, and nobody will get hurt.”

Oh man. Oh geez. It’s in those moments, that you remember how much of a badass your husband could be. You’re pretty sure there was heart in your eyes, as you just stared at him in all his glory, standing protectively in front of his family, and daring a bunch of clearly powerful superheroes to do something...

Meanwhile, the archer and the redhead untangled themselves from the batropes (proof that they were exceptional beings too) and got into a fighting stance, while the rest of them stayed completely flabbergasted as to what was happening.

“Father wait ! They’re not bad...I think.”

“Yes just a second dad. You’re not one to jump to conclusion usually, what got into you ?”

Bruce turned to Damian and Tim, who just talked, and, his face as stoic as ever, he said :

“Well once I noticed we were all going in the same direction, I made myself known to them...And they attacked me without any warning. Which made my deductions as wether they were friendly or not very easy.”

“Wait a second dude, what did you expect us to do ?! You jumped out of the shadows, dressed like a goddamn nightmare. Of course our first instinct was to fight !”

The archer said, bow still in hand.

That’s the moment Captain America and Iron man decided to chose to come in. And who is the first person they saw ? Deadpool, who somehow managed to sneak to the “Bat” side for some reasons.

And then they saw Clint and Natasha in a fighting stance, and a guy dressed like a bat just as ready to throw hands. Of course, their first reaction was to-

“STOOOOOOOOOOOOOP !!”

The loud scream took everyone by surprise, and they all put their hands to their ears...damn that was a strong voice.

The Hulk was the one that did it. He settled himself in the middle of Bruce and the others, and just...pushed them. A tiny little push.

They all fell flat on their ass. And you couldn’t help but laugh at the vision of your stunned husband falling over like a child.

“You listen to little man. He knows.”

The green juggernaut added, and he pointed to...Tim ? Oh. Oh no. Your poor baby. He had a serious case of stage fright. And there, as so many people stared at him...

But it seemed like the vision of his father and clearly powerful people falling as if they were mere keel in a bowling game had a sort of soothing effect on him. You know, like imagining your audience in ridiculous clothes or something ?

Plus seeing how surprised his father was was quite something, therefor, a smile on his face, he said :

“Yes. If you could please let me explain everything and hold the fighting for a little bit ? It’d be very appreciated. Thank you very much, Hulk.”

“Welcome.”

The giant said, waving his hand as if it was nothing.

************

You were so proud. So proud of your little boy (who wasn’t so little anymore). He had figured out what even his father didn’t think about (though he had a theory close to the one his son had, and obviously lacked some crucial details...like the fact that Thor’s brother, Loki, was involved).

“So that Klarion guy is planning on teaming up with Loki ?”

Clint asked, still eyeing your husband suspiciously.

“It certainly seems like it, yes.”

“Wait a minute, Thor, I thought Loki was in locked down on Asgard ?”

Thor suddenly became very red, and avoided the man who was called “Tony Stark”’s eyes.

“Um yes. Well. I guess he um..”

“Fooled you again ?”

“Yes.”

The entire Avengers team present, plus that “Nightcrawler” fella, and “Storm” lady, rolled their eyes. Clearly, it wasn’t the first time Loki did something like that.

“So, we have to find them then...”

“Klarion was probably the one that appeared at Brooklyn Bridge. Vision and Scarlet Witch are the one that went over there, but they still didn’t find a thing.”

Captain America said. Bruce answered :

“They won’t find him. Unfortunately, Klarion is a very resourceful kid. And I think I know what he wants to do with that sword now...”

“What ?”

“Well, you see, Klarion doesn’t need an artifact to travel from universe to universe. He can open gates thanks to magic. But he can only cross them alone. Well, his cat somehow is able to follow as well..but the point is, he couldn’t travel with someone else. Now with the sword ? He could just use his own powers, and his partner could use said sword. I actually think he brought us here as a test...And it clearly worked.”

“Wait, you mean that once Klarion and my brother find each others, they’ll have the ability to...travel through universes ?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s really not good...You were right little man, Ragnarök level.”

There was a heavy silence as the news sunk in in everyone’s mind. Every persons present had witnessed really weird and dangerous things, in their lives, and they all came to know exactly when a situation was dire.

And this one ? Two kings of Mayhem reunited and able to go from one universe to another ? Definitely a very dire situation...

“Well, we need to find that kid !”

Thor exclaimed, but you shook your head, being faster than your husband to answer :

“It’s not that easy. Klarion has certain...powers, to hide himself. None of our technology will work, and unless you guys know someone who has the power to know where everyone in the world is...It’s really not going to be easy. I guess we have to start from the Brooklyn Bridge and try to find clues and-”

“Wait. Sorry to interrupt you Darling, but I think I have an idea.”

Bruce turned to whoever dared to call you “darling”, and glared at him. It was that short hairy guy that brought Dick back. And though you were thankful he apparently helped save your son...how dare he call you “darling” ?! And hey, HEY ! Why were you blushing ?! You never blushed when people flirted with you, you always brushed them of nonchalantly, or sometimes somewhat flirted back when Bruce pissed you off...But you never blushed !

“Someone who can find anyone in the World you say ? I think I know just the one.”

Everyone was turned towards Wolverine (who seemed completely oblivious to Bruce’s glare, but definitely noticed you blushing as he winked at you...Bruce saw red, and it’s only thanks to all his sons getting a hold of him that Logan wasn’t suddenly attacked by a very angry man “twice” his size and could finish his sentence) :

“We have to go to the Xavier Institute. And we have to talk to its headmaster. We have to go see Charles Xavier.”

To be continued...YOU CAN FIND PART 2 HERE : clickclickclick

__________________________________________________

And here, the first part of this fic. This is basically the INTRODUCTION to this new series so it’ll most likely be the weakest chapter..it’s to settle everything ya know ? So that’s why some characters might be more quiet blahblahblah...I’m basically planning of splitting them into teams and..Well you’ll see ! This was just a small introduction to get the Batfam in the Marvel World !

I originally wanted to write just a funny one shot ya know ? But um, as usual I ended up being completely lost in my own head and wrote a plot much more complicated than I originally planned...I’m still gonna try and write some funny moments and all. I basically just will have more time to write about more characters haha. Ya wanna know something funny ? I jumped in this without knowing exactly how many parts there would be. So 1/??????, I have a feeling this will be my longest series so far, I just want the Batfam to meet so many of my fav characters...So I hope you’ll like following the Batfam traveling across the Marvel World (oh I really want to write them in the Savage Land and in Wakanda...) in pursuit of Klarion and Loki !

Aaaaah...So much for saying I’d never write series ever again huh.

2K notes · View notes

squeeneyart · 4 years

Text

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 6

AO3

Beta reader was @thesnadger!

Work dynamics are discussed.

Simon Fairchild offers some direction.

The sun finally peeked through the clouds as they walked across town. Things began to warm up, but Jon kept his hands firmly around the mug, sniping back and forth with Tim about appropriate attire for weather conditions. Martin and Sasha walked some paces ahead of the bickering pair.

“Hey, Martin, can we talk?” Sasha said, hefting the recorder bag more securely on her shoulder. “Jon told me about the conversation you two had yesterday.”

Heat rushed to the tips of Martin’s ears, and he thanked the cold for making his face pink. “We did, yeah. So... you know everything?”

“Yeah, I know that the lighthouse can’t keep secrets. I also know that, despite everything you heard, you’re still able to work with Jon and help us out, so thanks for that. It’s not something you have to do for us.” Sasha twisted a dark curl of hair with her finger. “And, sorry. I know I said some not so nice things myself. Might as well get that out there, too.”

Martin blinked, then laughed a little. “It’s-It’s really fine. I can’t say I’m not curious about all this, and with Jon, I get it, lots of stuff going on. Apologies accepted all around.” That earned Martin a grin.

“Good. Don’t want the week to end with you not thinking I’m a delight. The others, you’re free to make your own judgments.”

Martin snorted and looked back at Jon and Tim, who were still going at it. “Do they do this all the time?”

“Well, with this particular topic, Jon is notoriously terrible at dressing for the weather. I think Jon thinks he can handle more than he really does? Or wants to seem like he can? Me and Tim could never tell if he’s doing it out of stubbornness, or just not thinking ahead.” Sasha laughed, her voice full of genuine affection.

“I mean, he’s never been here, right? So I suppose he could’ve, I dunno, seen a bad forecast or misread something,” Martin argued weakly.

“Trust me, he doesn’t need your excuses. He’ll have to accept his low heat retention eventually, and even then he’d just say it was fine. Maybe keep that mug filled so he remembers not everything is supposed to be freezing.” Sasha lightly knocked her elbow into his arm.

The idea squeezed his heart a bit. “Will do, unless Tim’s jokes ruin the taste of tea for him.”

“Hasn’t happened yet! Don’t worry, this’ll be forgotten whenever we get to the next big thing. It’s just how they work.”

“You’ve all worked together for a while then?” Martin asked. “You all seem pretty comfortable around each other.”

“You think so?” Sasha looked back again and caught Tim’s eye. He stuck out his tongue. She smirked and turned back to Martin. “We’ve been on the same research team for a little while now and worked around each other for even longer. Jon being our boss is still pretty new. I don’t think he’s sure what to do with the idea.”

“He seems… stressed on principle?” Martin offered. “He also said something about a project that all of this took him away from, so I can’t imagine that’s helping anything.”

“Yeah, he has his own pet research on top of our other work. Couldn’t tell you what it is though,” Sasha said, shaking her head. “He keeps anything about that with a tight lid. Not that I haven’t tried.”

Martin’s shoulders slumped. “Ah, okay. I thought you might know…”

“Nope, sorry. Being close coworkers only goes so far. Maybe he’ll tell you if he likes you enough. Me and Tim might be too much of a risk as scientific peers.”

“You think it’s like that?”

“I think this kind of research is hard to get through to peer-reviewed journals. If you have something good, you need to be at least a little paranoid. That’s how I feel, anyway.” Sasha looked back and said, “Can you two hurry it up? We’re almost there.”

Tim and Jon stopped in the middle of their squabbling. Something up ahead caught Tim’s eye. He whistled. “That seems right.”

Their destination was a mansion tucked into the wooded outskirts of town. It was wide and sturdy with looming columns and sloped shingles. Taking in the building’s massive size, it was almost impossible to detect the slight tilt of the structure, but it was enough to make Martin’s eyes go screwy trying to compensate as the path curved up toward the front gate.

The gate swung open as they approached, and standing in the front doorway of the house was a short, very pink man with a pleasant smile. From there, he waved at his guests. “Martin! Peter hadn’t told me anything of your coming. Everything is all right, I hope?”

“Yes, Simon, everything’s fine. I’ve brought some associates of Mr. Bouchard, one of Peter’s beneficiaries. They’d like to speak with you.”

Simon’s grin grew wide. “Of course! Love to have guests. Simon Fairchild, as I’m sure Martin here has told you. Please, come this way.” They followed him inside, where an attendant took their coats. The interior of the home was even more grand, and up the center stairs at the back of the foyer was a large, stunning mural of the sky.

The painting only stopped when the bordering walls forced it to, and even then with reluctance. The variations of blue gave it an incredible depth despite the lack of clouds or celestial bodies. It pulled the eye up and away from the horizon line and, at the bottom left corner, there was a minuscule silhouette of the town, only recognizable for the lighthouse sitting at its edge. It was too small to anchor Martin for long from the expanse that stretched the full length of the wall, but just big enough to give a sense of scale.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Simon asked, noticing Martin’s stare. He continued, leading the group toward the staircase. “While I consider myself in good health, painting something so large nowadays would wreck my wrists, I think. It may not seem like it, but the details do need to be just right or the whole thing doesn’t work.”

Martin nodded in vague understanding and made a pointed effort to not stare at it. If there was any more vertigo sneaking up on him, he wouldn’t fall for it that easily. “It’s really nice. Very, erm, deep.” From behind him, Tim barely choked back a laugh in his throat. Martin smiled sheepishly at the old man. “Sorry, I don’t know much about painting.”

Simon waved his hand as if brushing away a fly. “No need to worry. It seems you’ve got the big picture, and that’s all the compliment I could need.”

He led the four of them up the stairs, past the mural and up another flight, and then another, and another, until finally to their relief they entered some sort of sitting room. The far wall was all glass sliding doors leading out onto a balcony. Simon sat in a comfortable chair facing the doors, and they sat around him. “It’s good to have a view of what inspires you, though I won’t make any of us sit out in the cold. So, tell me, what can I do for you all?”

“Well, Mr. Fairchild,” Sasha began, “We were hoping you could help us. We’re doing some research on the history of this town and of the Lukas family-”

Simon clapped his hands together. “Ah, yes! I’d love to help, though, of course,-” Simon sent a knowing glance toward Martin, who winced. “Peter will owe me a favor for it. I could start with Peter for fun. Plenty of stories of him as a surly young man. Or-”

“Actually, we did have some questions to start, Mr. Fairchild,” Jon said, pulling the equipment bag to himself. “Do we have permission to record this conversation? For archival purposes.”

“Someone is impatient. Simon is fine, and yes, though I hope you’ve brought enough tape.”

Jon scowled and kept his head down as he set up the recorder. “I’m sure we have enough.”

“I’m ready when you are, then.” Simon settled into the back of his chair, interlocking his fingers in front of himself. Once the recorder was set up, Jon turned it on and began.

“First thing’s first, how long have you lived in this town?”

Simon was fairly straightforward in his answers to start. Though not born there, Simon was a long-time resident, stretching all the way back to before his substantial wealth accumulation later in life. He’d found inspiration in the locale and decided it would be his home, starting with a small house on the very property where the mansion now sat.

“It’s the way the town sits, you see. From this point, despite how much you may try, you can’t see the ocean, and so once you look past the edge, it’s all sky.” His eyes glassed over, a dreamy look overtaking his face. “I’ve only been able to capture this feeling when on one of Peter’s larger boats on a cloudy night. You would look up and there was nothing above, and there was no light to shine on the sea below. Quite a wonderful experience. To have a home feel that way all the time? I am a lucky man.”

“Have-” Jon tried to say.

“Peter’s lighthouse as well, to an extent. Love to visit the place. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be there so often, but I can only bother Peter so much at a time before he gets touchy.” He gave Martin a conspiratorial wink.

Jon tried again. “Actually, we did want to ask about the-”

“The lighthouse, of course. It was here long before myself, if I’m remembering correctly. I wanted to know all about the thing when I first arrived. Even painted it at some point, though I could never get it quite right. How can a painting capture that sound?”

“Th-”

“And the view from the top! I could look at it for hours, if Peter weren’t so picky about me being there. Martin, you really must ask the man to relax. You put him in a room with one person and he’s so-”

“Do you know who might’ve built the lighthouse, Mr. Fairchild?” Jon raised his voice, and Simon raised his eyebrows in delighted surprise. Jon coughed awkwardly and seemed to calm himself. “Since you were so interested in it, perhaps we could hear about it?”

“Hm, yes, I’m sure you could, though really, I’m not sure you all are asking about it for the right reasons. I told Peter the same, but his family has always owned it, so maybe I’m not one to judge in this matter.” Simon eyed the group. “So, what is it that interests you all about the lighthouse? Historically, I can’t be of much help. Nothing I read was of interest to me, so I forgot it all.”

Tim leaned forward in his chair. “You’ve read other things about it, then? It’s a strange building, and surely you’ve noticed its... idiosyncrasies.”

Simon sat for a moment, pressing his fingertips together. Despite the gentle tone of his voice, his eyes were steel. “You’ll have to be more specific, I’m afraid.”

Martin rubbed his thumb into his opposite palm. “I think what Tim is asking is if you’ve read anything about the way it was built. How it looks, it’s not... normal? Like an optical illusion. It doesn’t look right.”

“But it does. Is that not how it should look? The way it always has?” Simon glanced across each of their faces and shrugged. “I don’t see a problem.”

“It made me dizzy looking at it, and not in a metaphorical way,” Tim said.

“Hmm, I’ve never had that experience. Must be a personal problem, and I can’t help with that, unfortunately. I love it as it is, in all of its strangeness, just as I love my little spot over the world. That’s all I can say on the matter, that and my personal experience which has been nothing but lovely.”

Tim struggled to find a response.

Jon rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You said you read about it. Can you at least point us to where you found that kind of information?”

The corner of Simon’s mouth twitched. “Not in the public library, I’ll tell you that. The information is out there I’m sure, if you want it that badly. But I can’t help you.” Simon stretched his skinny arms above his head. “Anyway, I believe you wanted to ask about the Lukases. I’d love to discuss them.”

Any other questions they had were drained from the sudden dead end. Simon spoke about Peter and his predilection toward avoiding people. He talked of his business relationship with Peter, and of Simon’s tourism company that often lined up well with the Lukas’ investments in real estate and travel options. The Lukases were an old family, and Simon had lived there long enough for people to forget he was new money. The Fairchilds weren’t even much of a family as they were an interconnected group of people Simon liked to associate with.

Everything past that was more than Martin cared to listen to. Time dragged on to the point where Martin zoned out entirely, and his eyes wandered over to Jon, who had run out of his more energetic irritation from earlier and had settled into a valiant attempt at taking notes about whatever tangent Simon had veered onto. At least he was trying, Martin thought. He let his gaze settle on a piece of hair that dangled in front of Jon’s angular face and imagined how Jon would look if Martin were to reach over and tuck it back into place. Probably weirded out, like Martin now felt after thinking about it.

It was Tim who eventually nudged him back to the present.

Simon looked at the wall clock as it chimed the hour. “It’s been a lovely time chatting, but you all must have quite a lot of work to do before the day is done.”

“Yes, well,” Sasha said, rolling her shoulders. “Thank you for speaking with us. It’s been very helpful.” Martin marveled at how sincere she managed to sound. Jon clicked the recorder off and began to pack it away. Getting up from his chair, Simon nodded to himself.

“I’ll have one of my own see you out, but before that, I’d like to have a word, Martin. It won’t take long.” He gestured for Martin to follow him out the door. Shooting a look at the others that he hoped expressed the horrible feeling in his gut, Martin followed.

They walked three doors down to a room with a small writing desk pushed under a large window, where Simon began to write something on a small piece of paper. Once he had finished, he held it out for Martin to take.

Martin approached with blatant confusion and accepted the note. “What-”

“Some things should remain off-record, I think. And perhaps it would be best if Peter doesn’t know you came here. You’ll have to deal with the burden of owing me a favor, unfortunately.” Simon smiled with his teeth. The paper had an address on it. “Take a look there if your curiosity gets the better of you, and if you stop by, I’d like you to pick something up for me.”

“I... what?”

Simon lowered his voice. “You see, I made the mistake of placing a bet with Peter a long time ago, and I ended up losing something. An old sketchbook of mine, to be exact, with my name written on the inside cover. If you all can get it for me, I’d very much appreciate it. Do be careful with it, though.”

“What-”

“Now, now. I’m done with your questions. You’d do well to keep from asking too many of them. It’s worked for you so far.” From over Simon’s shoulder, the sky seemed to grow past the window frame, folding around his entire field of vision in the deepest blue. Martin felt himself falling with a drop in his stomach, and Simon’s voice grew distant. “Good luck! I look forward to hearing from you.”

The blue was too much, and he blinked.

He opened his eyes and was doubled over, bracing himself against a wall and staring at the hall carpet. The door to the strange little room was shut, and from behind him came several sets of footsteps.

“Martin? Is everything all right?” Jon asked, stepping just into his periphery. “Did something happen?”

Martin groaned. “It’s fine. It’s all fine.”

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #simon fairchild #jonmartin #fanfic #au fanfic #selkie au

20 notes · View notes

daringyounggrayson · 4 years

Text

the times they are a-changin’

Written for @trichoglossus, merry Christmas Kes!!

Okay, so let me just set the scene: this fic takes place during the first Christmas after Jason died, Tim is training to be Robin but not living with Bruce, and Wally’s in college. I think that’s it? So yeah, enjoy the fic!

(AO3)

“You should’ve called,” Wally says (again). “You could’ve spent Christmas with me; my family would’ve loved to see you.”

“I didn’t want to take over your Christmas,” Dick says (again). “And it was fine. I caught up on sleep, ate some Chinese, and watched an animal doc. I had a great Christmas. Really.” Well, maybe not great. There was plenty of moping and self-pity and wondering how his life had gone to shit sprinkled between those other activities.

Today was better.

“You still shouldn’t have had to spend Christmas alone just because Bruce decided to be an ass.” Dick laughs. “He is! But he still could’ve made an effort. I mean, who can’t put off fighting with their kid for one day?”

Dick sighs, sobering. “It’s a little more complicated than that.” Fights with Bruce always were. Dick says stupid shit and takes things too far, and Bruce. Bruce is an ass. But he’s also grieving, and Dick should’ve known better than to bring up Jason.

“I think my point stands,” Wally scoffs. He’s always been the first to defend Dick, even when he doesn’t deserve it. “Besides, did I mention that it was Christmas?”

“You did. Several times. But to be fair, Bruce has never really been that into Christmas,” Dick points out. And not that Dick is obsessed with the holiday or anything, but there are parts he likes. Used to like. God, how things have changed. “It wouldn’t be shocking if he forgot why I went over there in the first place.” Lies.

“Whatever. I’m heading over in a bit and we can have Christmas 2, so prepare yourself to get festive.”

“Okay.” Dick looks around his apartment. It’s a mess and there aren’t any decorations up. Not that Wally will mind, Wally’s very good at not minding things like that. Still, he should turn on the lights or open the blinds at least. Wally always gets this sad, concerned look on his face when he realizes Dick has just been shuffling around in the dark. “Love you.”

“Love you, too, babe.” And Wally hangs up.

Dick puts his phone back in his pocket and opens the blinds in the living room. He looks around and gathers up the dirty dishes from the past few days and dumps them in the sink, then he collects the empty takeout containers from yesterday and throws them out. He also grabs the throw blanket off of the floor and drapes it over the back of the couch. Finally, Dick goes to the hall closet and pulls out two boxes: one a standard, pre-wrapped box with a bow on top and the other a small, thin box that he wrapped himself. He pockets the smaller box and places the larger one on the newly-cleared coffee table.

Festive—check.

A knock on the door tells him Wally’s here and he feels a smile tug at his lips.

Dick unlocks the door and pulls it open. Wally’s standing there with a box of his own, a paper bag, and a backpack slung loosely over one shoulder.

“Merry Christmas,” Wally greets, kissing Dick for good measure.

When their lips part, Dick gestures for Wally to step inside and offers his own, “Merry Christmas.”

Wally takes off his outerwear and then sets his gift on the table next to Dick’s. He holds up the bag for Dick to see. “Aunt Iris sent me home with a ton of leftovers, so we have a bit of a feast.”

Dick grins. “Awesome.”

“You got your oven fixed, right?” Wally asks, already heading toward the kitchen.

“Uh-huh. A few weeks ago. You can now turn it on without setting off the fire alarm,” Dick says proudly. “But we can just microwave it; it’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, you poor confused child,” Wally sighs. “Leftovers get the deluxe treatment on Christmas 2.” Then Wally mutters in mock disbelief, “Microwave, honestly.”

Dick holds back a laugh. “Sorry, I have no idea what I was thinking.”

“Clearly.”

The two of them work together to figure out how long everything will need to be reheated and plan it so that everything finishes at the same time. Dick’s apartment doesn’t have a dining room, let alone a table to go in one, so they set up their dinner on the kitchen counter, eating it next to each other on stools. It’s delicious, and Wally made a good call by turning down Dick’s microwave suggestion. Still, it reminds Dick of what he missed out on yesterday.

(But it’s not the food really, it’s the family that he would’ve eaten it with.)

With Wally there, they manage to eat all of the leftovers. Wally puts on some Christmas music while they load the dishwasher and clean the pots and pans that aren’t dishwasher safe. It’s funny—little moments like this, but not romantic outings or anniversaries, always make Dick think about how nice it will be to settle down with Wally in a few years. Dick has found plenty of unpleasantries in the adult world, but that is one aspect that he’s still looking forward to.

“What are you planning on doing for New Year’s?” Wally asks, drying off the last pan. “You know, with recent events and all.”

Dick shrugs, taking the pan and putting it back in the cabinet. “I’ll probably still go to the New Year’s party Bruce got roped into hosting. Bruce should be cooled down by then, and if not, he’s in public so he has to pretend to be for appearances. Plus, Babs and Tim will be there, so I won’t be completely alone even if Bruce does decide to avoid me all night. Why?”

“I was just going to say that I talked to Aunt Iris and she said that she’s more than happy to have you over. M’gann is also doing her New Year’s thing with the Team,” Wally reminds him. “Basically, if you decide not to go to Gotham, you have other options. I get sad thinking about you sitting here, all by yourself with the lights off. Especially on a holiday.”

Damn it. “It’s okay, really. And I’m not going to be alone, but thank your aunt for the invitation. Maybe next year.”

“Sure,” Wally says, smiling softly.

“You could still come to the Wayne party for a little bit. It starts at eight.”

“Will I have to rent a tux?” Wally asks.

“Uh-huh, but I can pay for it.”

“I’ll still have to wear it, though.”

“That is usually how it works, yeah.” Dick lets his fingers twirl around Wally’s hair for a second. “I’ll be there. And so will trays and trays of finger foods.”

Wally grabs Dick’s waist and pulls him close. “I do love fancy finger food.”

Dick closes the gap with a quick kiss. “No pressure, just think about it. I’m thinking of spending a few days there if Alfred isn’t too mad at me for ditching Christmas.”

“That’ll be good for you.”

Dick lays his head on Wally’s shoulder. “Yeah?”

Wally nods. “When you and Bruce aren’t at each other’s throats, you always seem lighter after a visit. And you’re always lighter after you talk with Alfred.”

Wally clearly has not been around to see Dick after Alfred’s just reprimanded him, but Dick gets his point anyway.

“Just don’t let this fight between you and Bruce fester. It’s not good for either of you,” Wally tells him.

Dick sighs and pulls away. Wally doesn’t even know what the fight was about; Dick hasn’t shared any of the details and he’s not going to. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“And I’m not asking you to.” Wally places his hands on Dick’s shoulders and looks at him seriously. “I’m just saying—and look, I’m not defending him at all, you know that—you’ve both had a hard year. You two understand each other in a way no one else can, and I think you need each other to get through this. There’s no reason to make it harder on yourself.”

Wally doesn’t say you’ve been known to do stupid stuff after fights, he doesn’t say I don’t want you to get hurt doing something stupid, he doesn’t say I know you’ve been depressed and I don’t want to lose you.

Dick nods. “You’re right. We’ll work things out.” Wally has always been good at making convincing speeches.

Wally smiles at him.

“So. Any family drama you wanna share?”

“Time for presents?”

oOo

“I have another one for you,” Dick tells Wally. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the small wrapped box, handing it to Wally.

Wally takes it and tears the paper off. Lifting the lid, he finds one small, metallic object: a key. He picks it up with a smile on his face and turns to Dick.

“I know most people in our business don’t exactly need keys, but—” Dick shrugs.

Wally cups Dick’s face and kisses him. “I love it. It’s very sweet.”

Dick continues, clarifying, “I’m not asking you to move in—I know we’ve talked about it before, and when we’re both ready to be long-term housemates, we’ll pick a place together. Think of this as a kind of stepping stone.”

A stepping stone because as much as Dick wants to live with Wally at some point, he doesn’t think he’s quite ready for that—neither of them are, honestly. But a first step? Wally leaving a toothbrush and some clothes here? He can do that, is thrilled to do that if Wally is willing.

“It’s a great idea,” Wally says, and there’s this sweet emotion behind it that Dick can’t get enough of. “One second.” He stands up and zips to the front door, returning with his keys. Dick watches as Wally works the new key onto the keychain. “How does it look?”

Right. “Definitely one of my top five keychains.”

“Shut up.” But Wally’s smile doesn’t drop and his eyes are still sparkling. He puts the keys away and then he’s back, glued to Dick’s side. Just as he should be.

“So. What else do you do on Christmas 2?”

“Hmm . . . we could watch Home Alone while I beat your ass at Parcheesi?”

And doesn’t that make Dick feel nostalgic? For much of their youth, they spent winter break together, sledding and, of course, watching movies while playing the various board games stashed around the manor. God, how things have changed. But not all for the worse, Dick is starting to realize.

“I’d love to make you eat those words, but I don’t think I have any board games, actually. I have a deck of cards somewhere though. We could play Rummy?” Dick suggests instead.

“You’re on.”

They put the movie on and start out sitting across from each other, Dick’s feet quickly finding their way into Wally’s lap. An hour in, though, round two of Rummy is forgotten on the coffee table and the movie plays to sleeping viewers. Dick and Wally have wormed their way next to each on the couch, Dick’s throw pulled over the two of them. Dick hasn’t felt this peaceful in a long time. This right.

Yes, good changes indeed.

#birdflash #dick grayson #wally west #nightwing #flash #young justice #elizabeth writes

81 notes · View notes

amphtaminedreams · 5 years

Text

Paris Haute Couture Week 2019: Favourites at First Glance

Hi to anyone reading,

And before we start...let me clarify.

Listen, I’m not Luke Meagher. I didn’t go to fashion school. I did history, philosophy and ethics, and psychology at A-level. Not a trace of even textiles experience in sight (I mean, I did it until we picked our GCSE options but I don’t feel that counts, lol). The only “fashion” knowledge I have is from coffee table books, youtube videos and twitter. AND I LIKED MARIA GRAZIA’S 2019 DIOR HAUTE COUTURE COLLECTION.

I think Haute Couture week is probably one of my favourites of the year because I’ve always been good at spotting a pretty dress I’ll never be able to afford and to be honest, not much else. And to me, the Dior collection is everything. Sure, it might not be the most groundbreaking or technically advanced thing ever, and yes, some of the shapes might not be the most flattering, but the best pieces (picked out above) are classic Dior. See, I’m not sure what my idea of “classic Dior” is actually based on other than a vague cultural knowledge but I feel this year’s haute couture collection fits in with that schema a lot more seamlessly than Grazia’s 2018 or 2017 collections, as much as I enjoyed them too. The colour scheme, the lace, the netted veils, the heavy eye makeup; these are dresses for turning up to the funeral of the rich husband you just secretly poisoned in/Eva Green would’ve worn in Penny Dreadful and I’m here for it. The spiked feather detailing that crops up a lot gives me Natalie Portman as the Black Swan and regardless of how flattering they may or may not be (because I'm kind of tired of fashion being thought of as a way to showcase a woman’s figure), I like the Edwardian inspired two pieces. I may be a bit biased, chokers, berets and some kind of netting are 3 of my favourite additions to an outfit, but I do think that as a collection, it all comes together beautifully and I commend Maria Grazia for that. I think now that she seems to have found her footing in terms of producing looks that are recognisably Dior, we only have increasingly creative efforts to look forward to.

Similarly, I adored the styling at the Schiaparelli show. As weird and wonderful as ever, you can see the influence of nature and possibly the visuals of flowers in bloom on Daniel Roseberry’s designs and styling. My favourite thing about this collection was its presentation: for his debut show, Roseberry took a seat in the middle of the runway and sketched out his designs as they appeared on the models in real time. I can’t think of a better way to introduce the fashion world to your vision and creative process.

Moving on from the Schiaparelli collection, it only feels right to talk about Guo Pei next, whose collection also has that characteristic organic feel, almost like the designs could’ve grown right out of the ground of a Tim Burton film. My favourite is definitely the second from the right on the top row, which wouldn’t have been out of place at the 2018 Met Gala. Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination is without a doubt my favourite theme of the last few years. Ornate as ever, each look displays a renaissance painting level of intricacy and craftsmanship; not that a plunge that deep would ever be remotely flattering on me, like there’s a reason I feel a certain type of way about belly button piercings and low rise jeans, but I am obsessed with the detailing of the dress on the far left of the bottom row. That being said, I don’t love this collection quite as much as Guo Pei’s 2018 haute couture offering, however, I think that’s just down to the colour scheme and structures of the latter.

Next is Chanel’s haute couture show, which right off the bat I’ll say I was a big fan of. Surprisingly, I’ve seen a lot of people say they don’t like it but I think it’s a welcome departure from the past few collections which (in my very design naive opinion) were beginning to get a bit monotonous. There’s only so much unnecessarily prissy detailing I can take before it gets a bit like...did they run out of ideas? I think for Virginie Viard’s debut show this is a return to the fresh, clean, functional and even slightly androgynous looks that I think we forget Chanel was originally known for. We still had a couple of the classic elegant dresses too, as seen in the two middle shots I chose, which pays homage to the haute couture collections of the past couple of years. Again, as with the Dior collection, I love the Edwardian/early 20th century influence and the library setting is a fucking perfect backdrop to the collection.

It probably feels a bit contradictory, me going on to praise this year’s Armani Prive collection considering I just criticised the past Chanel collections for being unnecessarily decorative but I see a clear direction with these looks. And yes, I generated a meme to describe how I probably sound right now:

Alternatively, I could’ve just put “how I sound right now”, semi colon, and then insert a photo of a clown underneath, but I’m clearly into 2018 memes, okay?

I’m not going to lie, the basic bitch in me loves these looks because I just know how good they are on the red carpet. Very Disney princess and I’m into it. I’m easily pleased: pastels, faux fur (I hope it’s faux though to be honest, I’m not quite sure), sequins and satin and I’m calling it a masterpiece. So it’s probably best to move on before I expose myself for just how much of a high fashion novice I am, if I didn’t already do that in the first paragraph by praising Maria Grazia. For the same reason, I was obviously a big fan of these looks from the Georges Hobeika haute couture 2019 collection:

And of course, all of these beautiful Ralph and Russo designs:

The dress on the right end, second row from the bottom is honestly probably my favourite of all the 2019 haute couture looks. Like frills!? PASTEL frills!? TIERED, PASTEL FRILLS? Fucking sold. Giambattista Valli is obviously the king of this:

Though I think I’m right in saying that the slightly more unconventional, exaggerated nature of Valli’s dresses elevate them in the eyes of the fashion community that little bit more. Personally, I love the touch of the black bows and the Elizabethan style neck collar of the look second from the right on the top row. Next is Zuhair Murad:

If I'm being brutal, I was a bit disappointed with this collection. I always love Zuhair Murad and love his dresses regardless but I found myself getting a bit bored with a lot of the looks this year considering how excited I was to see them. Though these are my favourites and they are still stunningly elaborate (clearly a lot of work went into the embroidery and stoning), I don’t feel as if any of them, apart from the green and silver jumpsuits, are really anything I haven't seen before. I thought the tribal/nomadic elements of some of the looks could’ve been slightly more conceptual. Like, I get that Zuhair Murad’s dresses, at face value, aren’t really about telling stories but I think if you’re going to go down the mildly culturally appropriative route, you should do it in new way. I read that he was inspired by a trip to Marrakech and I do see that, but it more seemed like an afterthought of throwing these details onto his usual style of dresses rather than the observations influencing the very basis of the collection. Elie Saab’s 2019 haute couture collection is, in my opinion, a good example of how to do this right:

Everything about the construction of these dresses from the padded shoulders to the Mandarin collars draws on the dreamiest possible incarnations of the wardrobes of Chinese royalty, and to watch that translated onto the runway in such a stunning way I hope is a pleasure to see for those who do consider their culture’s past to be a part of their identity today. The jewell tones, the baroque-like patterns, the defined silhouettes, the hair and makeup, I am in awe of EVERYTHING about this collection. I’m glad that Saab had so many East Asian models showcase his designs too; I don’t think it would’ve been right any other way.

Talking of structure, next is Iris Van Herpen:

Like, I need to know the SCIENCE behind these dresses, because I know there was a shitload (lol jk, I really don't want to know anymore science unless I have to). I mean, aside from a few more unconventional, bubble-like shapes that I wasn’t necessarily such a fan of, I can’t fault this collection at all. It really speaks for itself; every part of each design is as mesmerising and as hypnotic as the next, from shape and structure to the colours chosen. Even the more “simple” numbers such as the golden dress second from the left on the bottom row looks like it’s permanently caught in the wind, and I can imagine it on the statue of some Greek goddess whose name I cannot in this moment be bothered to check I’m not pulling out of my arse. You know, Aphrodite, Athena...one of that lot, lol. Finally, let’s talk about Valentino, Givenchy and Fendi, starting with my least favourite of the three, Valentino:

It’s not that there weren’t some wonderful looks. Of my favourites above, the white kimono style dress on the left of the bottom row, the blue dress with the cape and the green floral coat with the matching mesh dress underneath are the stand outs. It’s just that this collection isn’t particularly my style as I’m not much of a fan of block or primary colours; it’s personal preference and that’s not to say it’s a bad collection by any means. I can still appreciate that more thought and work and general energy than I’ve probably ever exerted in my life went into it.

Next is Givenchy:

LOOK at that dress on the right on the row second from the bottom. LOOK AT IT! The pastel pink cape! The layered houndstooth dress! The feathers! The neckline of that top on the right, second row from the bottom! The MENSWEAR! I want it all. It’s modern and it’s cool and it’s wearable but it also looks like me or you could never bloody afford it and that’s how you know it’s Givenchy, lmao. It’s not hard to see why this collection was so popular within the fashion community; it really is a masterclass in less is more which takes a lot to admit because I’m usually a more person.

However, overall, my favourite collection of the three has to be Fendi:

The 70s are my favourite decade for fashion and so this collection is absolutely delicious. I love the warm tones contrasted with a splash of almost metallic cools or pastels every so often and throw some faux fur (again, I don’t know if it is faux?) over anything and it immediately looks 10x more glamorous in my opinion. Half the looks are giving me groupie to a rock band and the other half are giving me bored Hollywood movie star in her Beverly Hills mansion, walking round with rollers in her hair and a pornstar martini. As you can probably tell if you’re still reading, outfits that give me a story are the ones that I love the most, lmao. The perfect balance between opulent and effortless, in an ideal word I would absolutely own and wear every single one of these outfits, regardless of where fashion critics stand on them, and feel like a badass bitch.

And to kind of round off the post, isn’t that what’s most important? That an outfit makes you feel empowered and like you could dramatically slap the shit out of anyone who disrespects you (FEEL being the keyword here, I’m really not recommending anyone goes round slapping every person who disrespects them)? I definitely do want to be more educated on fashion and its history, after all, I’ve always been a history student, but at the same time, I don’t want to suck the fun out of it for myself. Most of the time I don’t want to look at a dress and compare it to every single collection of years past or scrutinise who did what better, I just want to marvel at it. I think one thing that bothers me is that within something as relatively harmful as fashion, it seems kind of elitist and hierarchical to categorise opinions as good and bad based on how much education a person might have on the topic. Let’s be real, fashion isn’t really a realistic career path for most of us. The average person hasn’t always got time to research the history of a fashion house before they make a statement about one of its pieces. They’re working, lmao. If your career is in fashion, lucky you. But in a lot of cases, as within a lot of creative industries, luck is really just privilege, connections, money, leisure time and choice and only a select few people have those things, and I don’t think we should let those people dictate who has style and who doesn’t. These things are subjective. Let people like what they like without equating that love of something to a lack of taste, you know?

In a broader sense (and I really don’t know how I got off on this tangent) something makes you feel beautiful and YOU think you look hot af, WEAR IT!

It’s a bit of a cliche as a closing statement but if anyone read until the end, I hope you enjoyed the post. I am always totally open to hearing other opinions and points of view so feel free to send an...ask? Message? I’m not sure what it’s called in 2019, lol. Anyways, feel free to do whatever that function is called nowadays and rant away.

Lauren x

#eliesaab #kaia gerber #dior #paris fashion week #fashion #fendi #Zuhair Murad #givenchy #valentino #giambatista valli #chanel #iris van herpen #guo pei #schiaparelli

89 notes · View notes

katewillaert · 5 years

Photo

My Secret Origin (Part 1): How To Fail At Comics

[Above: Art from 20 years ago, when I was in High School.]

What do you want to be when you grow up?

When I was four I said “mad scientist.” It was 1987 and I was a big fan of The Real Ghostbusters and Doc Brown. My mom insisted “mad scientist” wasn’t a profession. And weren’t those characters are inventors? What did I want to invent?

Clearly I hadn’t thought this through.

My mom also informed me that all those cartoons I watch were made by people. Those were drawings, and there are people whose job it was to draw those.

This blew my mind. From that point on I decided I was going to be an animator.

Discovering Art

I don’t remember when I first started drawing. It seems like something I always did growing up. As far as my memory is concerned, I came out of the womb holding a pencil and began drawing before I said my first words.

In reality, I probably started in preschool when I was four, just before I discovered what an animator was. I remember my favorite subject to draw was the Ecto-1 from Ghostbusters. I must’ve drawn it something like 10 or 20 times.

My mom kept almost all of my childhood art, so in theory I could figure out when I started drawing from that...except the earliest drawings were ruined when the basement flooded.

After the flooding, my mom was condensing what was left, and I saw something surprising: a box filled with Ecto-1 drawings. I hadn’t drawn it 10 or 20 times, I’d drawn it 100 or 200 times. Repetitively, over and over, without consciously thinking about what I was doing.

It was practice without realizing I was practicing. I guess that’s how my art “leveled up” so quickly?

Later I discovered other details about my early development. There was a time around age 2 where I stopped talking. There were times when I liked to line up toys. My obsession before art was Legos, building complex shapes and stairs.

Today these might be recognized as possible indicators of autism, but this was the ‘80s.

Because I was shy and lacking in social skills, a teacher suggested to my parents that I might benefit from being held back a grade. I had a summer birthday, so holding me back would make me one of the oldest rather than the youngest.

Thankfully my parents didn’t take that advice. I would’ve been miserable. Despite being the youngest in my class, I surpassed everyone in terms of scores. A CAT test says I scored “higher than 99% of all 3rd grade student in the nation in total language.” 91% in reading. 90% in math. My reading comprehension was 98% in the nation, but was brought down by my reading vocabulary which was only 72%.

Yet this new information called into question a things about myself I’d never considered. Maybe certain things suddenly made more sense? In particular, the way I don’t have interests so much as obsessions. Any time I take an interest in a topic, it leads to an obsessive amount of research.

Discovering Comics

I think the first comic I ever saw was a Chick Tract some kid showed me in Sunday School. He was surprised I’d never seen one. It must’ve hadan impact on me, because I attempted to draw a tract-style comic starring C.O.P.S. (“Fighting Crime In A Future Time”).

I didn’t discover REAL comic books until a few years later. In 1991, Terminator 2: Judgement Day marketing was in full force and I thought it looked so cool. But it was Rated R, and I was only seven. My mom spotted a couple issues of a Marvel comic adaptation (drawn by Klaus Janson), and I guess that was the compromise until it was out on video.

I attempted to illustrate a comic imitating Janson’s cram-packed panel-per-page ratio. It was an epic crossover where Michael Keaton Batman encounters a Delorean driven by a T-1000, then the Ninja Turtles show up, and maybe the Ghostbusters? I knew how to introduce characters but not how to finish a story.

At this point I was still imagining becoming an animator, even though I barely knew anything about what it involved beyond some flip books I’d done. But all that changed when I discovered the X-Men.

X-Men and Batman: The Animated Series both debuted on FOX during the fall of 1992. I was a huge fan of the Tim Burton Batman movies and I’d seen every episode of the ‘60s show when it was revived in reruns, but I didn’t know the comics existed? I didn’t even know where to find comics.

My brother and I were both really into this new X-Men thing, and my brother was given a set of X-Men comics for his birthday. I borrowed them of course, and wanted to see how the story continued. My mom showed us a book store in the mall that had comics, and then we discovered the local comic store. That started my monthly addiction.

Now age 10, I decided I no longer wanted to be an animator. Comics were my true calling. And my dream was to break in at age 16.

Learning Comics

Age 11: I went from reading just Uncanny X-Men to buying the entire X-line, thanks to and event called Age Of Apocalypse.

Age 12: I started buying Wizard magazine. The first two issues I bought included life-changing information, like that you get hired by building a portfolio and showing it to editors. There was industry news, and art tutorials by Greg Capullo. I added the magazine to my monthly buy list. An X-Men 30th anniversary special gave me the entire history of the characters, and a run-down of the key artists and writers with examples of their work. It was like a Rosetta Stone before Wikipedia.

Age 13: I started buying most of Marvel’s output thanks to an event called Heroes Reborn. I never got into the Batbooks, I guess because the art didn’t look as cool? Comics contained ads for the Joe Kubert School, which became my backup plan if I didn’t break into comics on my own. I also discovered the internet around this time.

Age 14: My first year of high school. I spent every lunch hour in the library browsing the internet, since we didn’t have a computer at home yet. I discovered several comic art forums where pros and amateurs traded tips. During the summer I attended a week long art session taught at a local college by a professor who grew up on ‘60s Marvel. There I learned I’d been using paper that was much too thin to ink on, and I learned about the importance of Jack Kirby.

Age 15: I started buying Comic Book Artist magazine. I thought it’d be about drawing tips, but instead it was filled with fascinating comics history, which became an obsession of its own.

Age 16: A year of disappointment. I knew I wasn’t at the level I needed to be to get pro work, but wasn’t sure how to get to the next level. Nowadays there are all sorts of resources I could’ve used, but back then there was no Youtube, no social media, and few books about the craft of comics.

I was now certain the Joe Kubert School was the way to go.

Changing Plans

My family took a trip to Dover, NJ to visit the Joe Kubert School campus, and it was pretty disappointing. The town didn’t feel super friendly, and the school wasn’t accredited, which raised issues in regards to getting student aid. Plus the idea of spending so much money on a non-degree.

The guy showing me around tried to sell me by pointing out that comic companies don’t care about whether you went to college, they just want to see the portfolio.

I took this to heart and decided not to go to college. I was pretty crushed at first, because I’d had this dream plan for so long, and now I was plan-less. But eventually a new plan began to form.

It was time to start doing conventions.

A startup called CrossGen had a sample script and were taking submissions at SDCC 2000, so I went there. I still felt like my work wasn’t quite ready for prime time, but i was worth a shot.

And nothing came of it, other than a cool Crossgen rejection letter in a box somewhere. None of the other publishers could be bothered to even send that.

In hindsight, I was trying to enter at maybe the worst possible time in comics history. When I first started reading comics, they were at their peak during a boom period. When the bubble burst, the industry experienced year-over-year plummeting sales with no bottom in sight. No one was hiring.

But I kept at it, hoping for a lucky break. Top Cow was impressed that I did backgrounds (lol), and suggested I send in “background samples,” but I didn’t want to go down that route. But maybe that’s what a lucky break looks like? (On the other hand, many aspiring pencillers who start as inkers or colorists get stuck there.)

The next summer I went to Chicago with a Marvel sample script. I’d just graduated from high school, so I was really hoping. This time I got a critique from an editor who had actual advice to offer, and I learned a few things. But still no one was hiring.

I thought if I just stayed home and worked on art for a year, I’d eventually come up with pages so impressive that they’d HAVE to hire me. And if it didn’t work out after a year, I’d start looking for a college.

But now I was struggling with a new problem. I suddenly hated my art. I’d heard about a few professional artists who didn’t like looking at their own art, but I was certain this was different. After all, they’re actually good.

The year passed and I accomplished nothing. Based on things I’d heard, I was nervous that college might actually price me out of comics entirely. But I didn’t know that for sure, and I was super inexperienced when it came to money, since I’d never lived on my own before.

But I kept hearing how so many people have gone to college and they all turned out okay (this was before social media and before student debt became a crisis). I was clearly having trouble moving forward on my own, and Youtube still didn’t exist, so what choice did I have?

Choosing Schools

There were only a few colleges with comic art programs back then (maybe three total?), but one of them just happened to be over here in Minnesota. Art school appealed to me because all the classes were art-focused, so I wouldn’t have to waste my time with math and other BS.

And as I humble-bragged earlier, I’m good at math. But I hated it. At one point some kids from Math League asked if I’d join the team. “‘MATH LEAGUE?’ You mean you do math for FUN??”

I hated math so much, I took harder, accelerated math courses via a local college, just so I could finish math early and spend my last years of high school wonderfully mathless. If there’d been a similar way to graduate from high school earlier, I would’ve taken it. When I realized we were all graduating regardless of how much work we put in, I stopped caring so much about grades and let an occasional B+ slip in.

When I would see classmates busy studying for their SATs or ACTs, I was so glad I didn’t have to bother with that.

But the joke was on me. Because this art school didn’t just require a portfolio review (which I was more than ready for). It also wanted ACT test results.

I remember wondering if I should study before I take it, since everyone took it so seriously in high school. But I didn’t even know how to study. It’s not a skill I’d learned, because I never needed to. So I decided to wing it.

You’ll hate me, but without studying I scored in the top 96% for English, the top 94% for Reading, the top 96% for Science...but only top 87% for Math, because I hadn’t taken a math class in three years. That brought my total down 90%..

(Later, I had to learn to study in order to pass some horrifically-taught art history classes. That teacher made me hate art history, which is ironic given how much of my own writing is focused on history.)

So I got into the school, only to discover that even structured teaching wasn’t going to solve my new art problem. During my first year I told my mom that I don’t enjoy art anymore, and she thought it might be depression. I mean, that’s plausible, losing interest in your passions?

In hindsight, I now have enough experience with real depression that I can definitively say it wasn’t that. I mean, I was occasionally depressed back then, but hating my art was unrelated. It took me years to figure out the actual problem.

Dunning Kruger

The Dunning-Kruger Effect is named after a study which found that:

1) People who aren’t knowledgeable about a skill tend to think they’re better at it than they are, because they don’t know enough to know what they don’t know.

2) Conversely, people who ARE knowledgeable about a skill tend to think they’re worse at it than they are.

My problem went one level deeper. I’d learned a shit ton about every skill related to comic art, but I hadn’t put in as much time actually practicing. And now practicing was tough, because I was hyper-aware of how bad every line was as I laid it down.

In other words, the exact reverse of when I was four and drew repetitively on auto-pilot. Back then I was oblivious that I was practicing anything at all. Now I had the benefit and detriment of a critical mind.

But this realization came later. At the time I was just miserable and didn’t know what was wrong with me.

Halfway through art school, I realized I’d likely already priced myself out of comics, and I needed a real degree that would function back-up plan. So I switched majors. Instead of a Comics major filling my electives with design classes, I became a Design major filling my electives with comics classes.

In order to change my major, I had to explain it to the head of the school. This was awkward because it partly involved explaining how the comics industry worked, and he didn’t want to believe it. He told me I was being cynical.

I tried doing comic samples one last time after college, for a convention in 2006, but couldn’t even finish a page. Then sometime around 2008, I gave up drawing entirely.

How I got started again is another story.

You can also find me on:

Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/katewillaert/?hl=en

Twitter - https://twitter.com/katewillaert

Art Patreon - https://www.patreon.com/katewillaert

History Patreon - https://www.patreon.com/acriticalhit

#comics #comic art #x-men #marvel comics

11 notes · View notes