#and these two threads are a big part of my interest in tim as a character! jack's the backdrop that makes a lot of stories possible

[salparadiselost]

Just something I wrote up. I had this scene in my head and I couldn’t not write it. It’s based on a New Gods AU which I’m not sure I’ve talked about but it exists in the group chat.

*****

“Fetch your brothers. Return to the Manor immediately.”

---

Dick hummed all of the top 40 tracks under his breath as he walked along the edge of a highway. He believed he was somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, given the trees, the mountains, and the slight tinge of magic that wasn’t his. There were old beings sleeping under him, older than humans and the concepts that they had used to create godlings like him.

They weren’t the reason he came here, though.

He was here for a much newer god.

He sniffed the air like a hunting hound and stopped abruptly.

A truck clattered past him, not stopping, not seeing.

Dick searched along the grass and found his telltale, a small roadside memorial in the form of a white wooden cross was tipped over to the side. Its paint was peeling off, sloughing off in fat chunks. The wood underneath it was molding into black. The forgotten husk of a teddy bear decomposed into the ground beside it. Artificially coloured flowers that would never get the blessing of decomposure lay partially buried in the dirt. A faded picture of a girl, brown-haired and big-smiling, was nailed to the cross, and it fluttered slightly when another car passed. Written on the photo, in faded pen and running ink, the second half of a sentence could just barely be read: “-was last seen here”.

Dick snorted.

Tim was nothing if not predictable.

He turned off of the road and went into the forest beyond it.

He doesn’t know what happened here; it wasn’t his jurisdiction. Tim could probably tell you. Talk to you about how that girl’s car had been broken down, or maybe she had stopped to help an ‘innocent’ bystander, or maybe she had met a secret boyfriend for a drive. He could tell you about the days before, how she was in life before it was cut short, what innocuous things were the dominoes stacking up before the whole thing tipped over.

It was a conversation that Dick had had with Tim before, but not one that interested him much, given that she hadn’t become the center of America’s media circus. Instead, her story ended here. In a forest, with a wooden cross and a cold case sitting in some podunk town somewhere.

Dick’s gaze flicked through the foliage, across a tattered piece of fabric caught in a bush’s branches, across the loose threads from torn clothes that would have been too small for the human eye.

Around him, the forest chattered and whispered, quietly saying what had happened in a way that he couldn’t quite hear. It told the entire story if you knew how to listen. Tim did. Bruce did. But Dick didn’t. He only knew the clues enough to follow them to the edge of a lake.

The bright blue lake was like a hole in the forest’s coat. Trees parted to make room for it, and it reflected the sky back on itself. It was a pristine blue, except for a blotch out in its middle.

There, amongst the endless sky water and the sparkling ripple of waves, was a body.

It floated in the suspended reality of the water, bobbing with restless motion despite the stillness in its limp form. It was completely naked, revealing pale and pasty skin to the world. The colour was greyer than any living human should be and unnaturally mottled with green and blue. All the warmth of life had been leached out by its watery grave, leaving only a grisly shadow of what it had been. The knobby ridges of its spine jutted into the air. Its neck stuck at an unnatural angle, and there was an occasional peek at a slash of raw, exposed flesh. Little chunks of meat, bitten and pulled off by fish and birds, floated next to the corpse.

Dick waited, his foot tapping against the shore of the beach.

The body kept floating there, buoyant from the bloat of gasses captured in its stomach. Long hair rippled with the waves.

He sighed, put two fingers up to his mouth, and whistled. The sound pierced across the lake and hung in the air for a few seconds.

Then, the body twitched, limbs locking back into physical control. It shook and then moved its arms to sit itself up, raising up on the water like someone awakening from a nap. It sat up, and Dick could see the remnants of her face. It was torn, like someone had dragged it, and let pieces of it come off like ribbons to then be eaten by the water. Skin hung. The eyes were gone. Her jawbone was visible through a large gaping hole in her cheek. Flesh had been picked apart by fishes and other creatures. It was a portrait of a death. Her death, he supposes.

The face of her stared at him until suddenly it wasn’t her’s anymore.

In between two of his breaths, the figure on the lake had changed into something Dick recognised much more.

“What?” Tim snapped from his seat on the water, legs tucked close and looking very much like a teenage that had been interrupted from his twin bed. Waves lapped at the edges of him, but they might have well been blankets and sheets. Dick is pretty sure he’s seen Tim in this exact position at the Manor, comforter knotted up all around his legs with his laptop balanced on his lap.

He gave Dick the same annoyed, haughty, ‘you’re bothering me’, look that every younger sibling seemed to have mastered.

“I’m here to pick you up,’ said Dick, his tone bouncing. “Dad wants us. It’s time to come back.”

Tim’s eyes narrowed, and the temperature of the air turned down a few degrees. “I’m not a kid that needs to get fetched from his room.”

Dick snorted and shrugged. “Trust me. I’ve been trying to use that argument for centuries. A millennium before you were even thought up. It doesn’t work.”

Tim stayed staring for a few moments before he groaned and collapsed back into the water. The movement exposed a weeping gash on the body’s side, the flash of her ribs was poking out from the meat. There were bruises on her belly and up her chest. Tim laid on his back, staring up at the sky and rocking with the slight ripple of the lake.

“I guess telling him I’m busy won’t dissuade him?”

“Nope.”

Tim sighed and rolled to hop off of his makeshift bed. His legs splashed into the water, but only raised halfway up his thighs. He trudged his way towards Dick, and as he did, the memory of the dead girl shed off of him. His body healed over the gashes. His neck clicked into the right place. A baggy hoody and jeans manifested onto himself. His hair dried, shortened, and any caught leaves or twigs fell out of it. By the time he reached the shore, the only remnant left of the girl was the slight corpse tinge on Tim’s skin. It was a little too pale to be alive, a little too blue and green not to suggest decomposition, but even that was being erased away.

“You figure out your little mystery?” Dick asked, watched Tim shake the last of the lake and the girl off of him. ‘You’ve been out here for a few weeks.”

“Not really,” said Tim, as he grabbed an Airpod out of his hoodie pocket and shoved it into one of his ears. “Finding the body is easy. Filling in the holes in the middle is always harder.”

He also drew a maroon beanie from his hoodie pocket and stuck it on his head.

“And floating out there in the middle of the lake is essential?” Dick teased and Tim gave him a venomous frown. It wasn’t the first time Dick had found him in a rather deathly position despite Bruce trying to ban it multiple centuries ago.

Tim drew a beat-up white sneaker from the hoodie pocket and then another. “Living through the last moments is very informative.”

Dick grinned and Tim’s glare dropped. “Wait, you’re not telling Dad are you?”

Dick hummed with a smirk, and Tim looked like he wanted to throw something at Dick’s head. “I hate you, you know.”

“Alright, alright, maybe I won’t tell him.” He raised his hands in surrender and gave Tim a smile that usually made people fall in love with him. Usually. But Tim wasn’t people, and he sure as hell knew that behind all the pretty grins, Dick’s teeth were sharpened and his tongue could give the most beautiful lie.

His gaze remained suspicious, but eventually he shook his head and changed the subject, apparently done with Dick’s game.

“What the hell are you wearing anyways?”

Dick blinked, taking a second to remember exactly how he was appearing at the moment. It was his normal body in its normal shape. He double checked to confirm he was male, and yep, in the male configuration. All of this was stuff Tim had seen a million times before, so it wasn’t something with the body.

It must be the outfit.

It took a second but he remembered he was wearing a glittery, blue sequined leotard that cut high up on his hips and had large hearts emblazoned on it. Matching the leotard, he wore a glittery cowboy hat and a pair of heart-shaped glasses that did little to hide the bright blue shadow on his lids. He also had on gold cowboy boots that went to his thigh and gloves that stretched toward his elbows. A row of beaded tassels hung from the leotard and this shimmered when he breathed.

He had been at a concert when he saw the text from Bruce to retrieve Tim.

Concerts were more his speed than all of Tim’s moody floating in the woods. Modern concerts were a spectacle and he lived for spectacle. He didn’t really care about the music or the artistry; he always found those to be the most boring parts, but he loved the sheer grandeur of their shows. He adored the way the pulse of the crowd rocked into his bones and filled his lungs. He reveled in how the thrum consumed you into a part of itself. He drank the fizzy pop of power that came from a thousand people all chanting the same sounds. It was intoxicating. It was thrilling. It was a vestige of him.

How he was.

Back when humans filled coliseums and circuses were the center of the world.

It came close to satisfying the vicious yearning he still had for blood sprayed across Roman sands and the clatter of chariot wheels.

No more though. He had to get his fill from a different type of spectacle now.

“I was at a music thing,” Dick said with a waved hand. “Some little Missouri girl is calling herself a princess and people are eating it up.”

Tim raised a curious eyebrow, eyes going over Dick’s outfit. He knew the rules of Dick’s god hood, generally the bigger, the flashier, and the more flash in the pan, the better. “That seems like a boon for you.”

“It’s fast,” said Dick with a shrug. “It’s fun. But it's music, which always means it's only half a meal for me.”

After all, he wasn’t a god of music. He didn’t care about the melody or the words, if anything it was competition for what he truly wanted. He wanted something much more primal. Much more ancient.

Ironic that most of it lived in the moments and flashes of social media. The newest technologies to satisfy the most basic of needs.

He had to adapt if he wanted to live, and this is where that got him. He knew Tim understood because he wanted something similar. Something that was ugly to most of the modern world, and yet survived with each new revolution.

Sure enough, Tim nodded and walked towards Dick’s side.

“Are we going straight to the Manor?” He asked, eyes looking forward and momentarily tabling the mystery in the lake. His mind was already turning on something new, trying to figure out why Bruce had called them all back.

It wasn’t… unusual for Bruce to call them all together back to the Manor but the timing was odd.

They had mostly recently been called back a few months ago and Bruce usually let them have a couple years in the field before he was itching to have them back again. It was a deviation of their pattern and given that Bruce was an ancient god with ancient habits, it took a lot to break their patterns.

Something was up.

Something that required all of them to be home.

“We have to go get Jason,” said Dick, the world already changing around them. “Then we will go home.”

[sillyname30]

I just listened to the latest episode of and that's what you really missed on Glee. Guests were two of the session/background singers. It was interesting to hear about that side of the work.

Nikki Leonti on how she ended up on Glee: „I signed a record deal when I was thirteen years old, and I was in the gospel world, touring all over the world. I was a Christian singer who got pregnant as a teenager. And you can't really do that. They took my songs off the radio and my records off the shelfs. That's how I got into session singing, because I lost all my work and I didn't know what I was going to do.“ Later she got a new record deal with Warner Brothers and booked gigs on late night shows, but then Warner Brothers got a new management and they dropped half the rooster. After that Tim Davis called and offered her a job as a session singer on Glee.

Nikki: Glee music was ever changing. You had a basic sound, a thread that went through all of the songs. That was the Glee sound, but stylistically it changed a lot. That's what made it so fun, and that's why they hired singers who could have diversity of sound, because you needed to.

What is the feeling that Glee leaves you with? It was such a special time for me. We had our own group of people and friendships that were happening behind the scenes. That was just such a big deal. Seeing the show take off. It changed TV at the time. It changed everything. We were a part of this growing, expanding, exploding situation that made us all excited of these opportunities and the possibilities and what that was like. We got to experience some of that excitement and it's something I'll never forget. It changed us. It was special. And you know, even though we were a little distanced from you guys, all of what you guys went through affected us, and all of the things during the show affected us behind the scenes and our hearts. Our hearts were always interconnected with the process, even though we were all doing it in separate spaces. It was a real like family experience.

Luke Edgemon started as a Warbler, but he wasn't happy in the spotlight. When they needed a guide vocal he was happy to do that and stayed with this line of work. He became the demo singer for Kevin at some point.

What is the feeling Glee leaves you with? Glee leaves me feeling happy because of things like this. I got so attached to being a moving part of a machine that often I took for granted what was happening in the moment, whether it be you know, twenty four hour sessions or just seeing people walk in like Sarah Jessica Parker to sing a lead vocal. And so I just have the happiest, warmest feelings about those times, even the times that we're filled with struggle or no sleep, because a family is often dysfunctional, and so I just always think of it as family. And I still talk to those singers even though we don't sing together much anymore on a daily basis. You know a lot of people just assume that you remember the money, and that's honestly, like the last thing that I think about, whether these relationships are lifelong or not. I know that those memories will always be there.

[geowrites03]

Smile pt.2

Damian Wayne x Joker’s daughter!reader

Summary: After y/n tries to get rid of her father Tim finds out about her and tells Damian that what he knows is true. He loves her. But he’s still so unsure to admit yet.

-Also I thought I should mention that Damian is aged up (18)(i was supposed to mention this in the first part but i forgot)(but is still not good for showing or expressing his emotions for plot/storyline) and all the other batboys are their normal ages.-

Part 1 Part 3

Spotify Playlist

The old rusted pipe felt strange in hands. It was cutting and digging into my palms as I swung and hit my target on the ground. I’ve been waiting so long for this. Sweet revenge is finally mine.

“Is that all you got you little bitch!?” He was screaming at me while laughing, but it all fell upon deaf ears. I swung and hit him in the mouth and laughed at the sight of him spitting up blood and two teeth. “You’re not so different from me, you know? Laughing in the face of chaos and other peoples pain, you’re daddy’s little girl.”

I was so fucking tired of him and his little comments. I was done taking his shit. I hit him on the temple causing him to fall face down. After a few more mindless and careless blows I dropped the pipe and left the warehouse.

When I arrived home I collapsed on my bed and hugged my pillow. Was he right? Am I just like him? Surely I’m not, or am I just hoping? Either way I’m still hanging by thread. Would Damian find out somehow?

The last question kept circling around in my mind, then eventually lead to more; Would he still be my friend if he found out? Would I even be able look him in the eyes without him figuring out how bad of a person I am? Would he even want to be in the same room as me? Would he even want to be in the same school as me? Same school as a psycho?

I didn’t get any sleep last night my brain was way too preoccupied with questions, questions that made me want to give up. I couldn’t give up now, not after my big accomplishment. But I want to. I feel like I need to, for Damian’s sake. It would be better for him if he wasn’t unknowingly friends with an attempted murderer.

Damian’s POV~

Last night was interesting to say the least. While on patrol we came across the Joker’s almost dead body in an abandoned warehouse. It wasn’t even noticeable that he was alive he was face down on the ground and beaten, he barely had a pulse. There was an old pipe next to him, blood on the end clearly the end he was beaten with, but also blood where someone must have been holding it.

I’m not worrying about him though, I’m worrying about y/n. What if the person that tried to kill her father tries to kill her? What was going to happen to her now that her father’s back in Arkham? Her mother was already back in Belle Reve as of two days ago, sure she’s old enough to look after herself, she is 18 and in her last year of high school after all, but she doesn’t like to be alone, even if it is with people that hurt her. She just can’t bare it. What was she gonna do?

~

When I arrived at school y/n seemed distant. She wasn’t talking to me or her other friends, she wasn’t even answering questions in class like she usually does. It was around lunch when I tried to talk to her in the library but she kept brushing me off. So I tried again in art class.

“Hey, are you okay? You seem upset and you haven’t talked to all day.” She also hasn’t smiled, I miss that bright smile, I need to get it back.

“Yeah I’m fine.” I could tell she wasn’t. She kept her frown on her face and went back to sketching. That’s when I saw what she was sketching, an old, rusting pipe with blood on it, blood on the end, and blood where it was held.

Horror based art wasn’t out of the norm for her, but this was too familiar. I tried to look at her hands to see if they had cuts or scrapes but I couldn’t get a clear view.

I went onto work on some of my own art occasionally trying to look at her hands. There was one point where she put her pencil down to crack her knuckles and I saw a slight cut on her palm, but I could just be seeing things because I’m paranoid.

~

When I got home I went right down to the batcave and tried to look for the pipe so I could possibly run some of the blood through the system to see if it matches hers. I don’t really know why I care this much I would love her either way, but I just want to see if she was pushed far enough by father to do something like this.

“Looking for this?” I turned around to see Tim with the evidence bag that contains the pipe. “Why have you been so obsessed with the Joker’s daughter and everything that might concern her recently?”

“TT- It’s none of your damn business, Drake.” He raised his eyebrow at me and had a look of concern on his face. I tried to reach for the bag but he retracted his arm then held it above our heads he’s just a bit taller than me so I can’t reach. “Just give it to me!”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.” His voice was low and serious. I have no idea why he wanted to know so bad. Does he think that I can’t have a situation on my own. He doesn’t need to get involved. “I just want to make sure you’re okay and safe.”

“I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Just give me the pipe.” He looked hesitant. He should know that I’m able to do things on my own. Especially find out if my friend has done a crime or not.

“I’m not going to give it to you until you tell me what’s going on.” I only looked away and didn’t say anything, trying to think if I should tell him or not. “If you don’t tell me I’ll tell Bruce about it, then he’ll get it out of you.”

“Fine.” I explained to him the situation from the start. How I found out y/n was the Joke’s daughter. How she was being abused. And how I believe that she tried to kill her father.

“Why didn’t you tell us this when you found out?” He handed the pipe over to me.

“I didn’t know how you would react.” I looked to the ground.

“Why do you care about her so much?” I shrugged and tightened my grip on the pipe, I already knew his next question, I was just praying he wouldn’t ask it, “How do you feel about her? Do you genuinely like her?”

“She’s just a friend, Drake.” He looked skeptical and sat down on a chair near me while i kept my eyes averted.

“Are you sure? Friends don’t care this much.” I looked over to him in disbelief.

“Friends do care!” My eyes were started to water due to all my current mixed emotions, I’m just so confused.

“I never said they didn’t, I just said not this much.” He must’ve seen my eyes because he got up and put his hand on my shoulder. I gave him a confused look. “Just a friend wouldn’t have gone this far with it, you did research, you kept an eye on her, you want to protect her and keep her safe.”

“But-”

“No buts, I can tell how devoted you are to her and keeping her safe, you love her.” He was starting to crack through my shell just like Dick had previously, but I don’t want to let anybody else in.

“You know nothing. You can’t ‘tell’ anything about me.” I shoved his hand off of my shoulder and left to the other room.

~

Do I love her? The question was floating in my head while testing the blood on the side of the pipe that was held. It did come back with her DNA, but why did I want to know so bad? It’s not like I’d stop being friends with her. I guess it’s just because I want to help her, even though I don’t know how.

Whilst on patrol I worried about her but I tried not to think about it too much and focus. The more I tried to not think of her, the more I did think of her. Her gorgeous h/l h/c hair and her beautiful e/c eyes.

“Robin,” Father called through the comms “we need help and the abandoned warehouse, get here now!”

“I’m on my way!” I picked my pace and started running. He said ‘we’ so I’m guessing Dick or Tim is already there so hopefully there won’t be too much trouble.

“Where are you?” I ran through the door of the warehouse and went to look for father.

“I’m upstairs but Nightwing should be down on ground level somewhere. But watch out there’s a group of villains down there too.”

I peeked my head around a corner be careful incase there were any villains. Thankfully it was only Dick.

“Be careful, so far we only know that Bane and Poison Ivy are here but there’s most likely more.” I nodded and joined his side. As we were about to leave the room to locate Bane and Ivy a voice I know all too well spoke up from the corner.

“Oh there’s most definitely more.” It was y/n Dick got in a defensive stance obviously waiting for her to attack, she just scoffed, “Not me dummy, I’m on your side for tonight.”

“Says who?”

“Says me, leave the twerp alone.” Jason came through a door from outside.

“Seriously Red?! Do you even know who she is? The Joker’s daughter, do you not remember what he did to you?!” I decided to stay silent and out of it and by the looks of it so is y/n.

“So, it’s not like she’s an exact copy of her father, plus her father has put her through hell and back, she just reminds me of…” He paused for a few seconds. “Me. She reminds me of me.”

“Is it because of the fact that he beat both of us nearly to death with a crowbar?” I snickered at Jason’s reaction on his face, trying to hold my laughter in and so was she. Dick and Jason just stood there in shock.

“Or that he branded us with a J on our left cheeks?” Wait she doesn’t have a J on her cheek, and Dick obviously took notice of that too.

“But you don’t have a J burned onto your cheek. Are you just messing with Jason now?”

“Nope. I cover it.”

“With what?” He was starting to annoy her now and I could tell by the look on her face that she was about to make a snarky comment to get him to shut up.

“Your mom’s ashes!” There it was, the silencer, well it would be silent if Jason and I didn’t burst out laughing and Dick was silent with a shocked face once again.

“Catwoman and I have found out what they’re trying to find.” Bruce had walked in causing me and Jason to stop laughing. “We have to stop them from getting it.”

“Well, what is it? Or are we just supposed to guess and pray to god that they don’t get they’re grubby little hands on it?” I had to try an suppress my laughter as father was also shocked now.

“It’s an ancient knife that came from an Exoplanet called Akina B, it’s got a violet handle encrusted with amethysts and a green obsidian blade. It’s worth millions of dollars and Bane and Poison Ivy are retrieving it for Black Mask.”

“What the fuck would Black Mask want with a space knife?” Jason asked out loud.

“Because in the hands of the chosen one it can give them ultimate power and can destroy Earth. Once he gets the knife he plans on letting it lead him to the chosen one so he can kidnap and manipulate them so he can be the one that actually controls the knife’s powers.”

“Well that’s fun-” Her sarcastic tone got cut off by the door being kicked in and flying off its hinges.

“You’re not wrong y/n, but joining us and helping us beat up Batman and all his little sidekicks would be funner.” Ivy had a vine coming at full towards y/n but she quickly cut it with her sword and ducked out of the way of another vine.

A whole bunch of goons coming into the room caught our attention as we started to fight them.

Y/n’s POV~

As I ducked to avoid another one of Ivy’s vines some random goons, most likely men that Black Mask hired just for this job. They all started to fight while I was still trying to block vines from Ivy. As I cut another one off something glowing green and purple caught my eye from outside of the room. She also took sight of it and darted for it.

Poison Ivy’s fast I’ll admit, but I’m faster. After Nightwing, Robin, Red hood and Batman take out some of the goons they follow. I took knife from its holding stand and with my powers I made a few replicas and turned the one in my hand invisible so only I could see it.

After that there was a bit of confusion from everyone else apart from Catwoman, but the fights all went on.

~

“You did good kid, I’ll let ya know next time I need help on a mission.” It was kind of unexpected coming from Red Hood, especially because he usually only works alone of with the Bats.

“Woah, did you just say ‘next time I need help’!? Since when do you either NEED or EXCEPT help!?”

They were both on their way home pretty soon and Batman also had to leave to do some ‘important stuff’ that I wasn’t really listening to, he also took the knife to keep safe.

“I can tell that you two need to talk to each other, with the masks off, and clear some air between the two of you.” After saying that she was quick to run away, leaving us alone on a deserted street on the outskirts of Gotham.

“Damian.” That’s all I said, it’s all I needed to because all I wanted him to know was that I knew who he was.

“Y/n.” He reached to take off my domino mask so I reached to take off his.

We both took each other’s off at the same time. I handed him, his and he handed me, mine. Neither of us looked away from each other’s eyes.

“I love you Damian.” I stepped closer to him and wrapped my arms around his neck.

“I love you too y/n.” He closed the tiniest little gap left between us and wrapped his arms around my waist. “But are you sure?”

“Yes I am sure.” I paused and studied his but as usual he’s unreadable. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t know.” He unwrapped his arms from my waist and puts his mask back on before starting on his way back home.

He knows I hate being alone. He fucking knows it. But he still left me here. All alone.

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Hiii!! I really love your tumblr posts and I'm pretty new to the Batfam (meaning I have only read fics and textposts about them, no comics) and I wanted to ask about the year Bruce/Batman gets "lost in time". I know general things of what the kids have been doing–Dick became batman and fired Tim from robin, giving it to Damian, everyone thinking Tim was crazy for believing Bruce was alive, (don't really know what Jason was up to though, was he still murderous towards Tim? Does the pit still affect him? Also I have no idea about Cass and Duke, were they introduced at this point??) Anyways, my real question was why was Bruce lost in time, what villain put him there? And how did he get out? And how long was he "dead"? Was Bruce in another reality or like just asleep the whole time? Oh! And how soon did this happen after Damian got introduced to the family–a couple months?

I'm so sorry this is so long, but I hope you answer and thank you!!

(I’m going to try and cover all my bases here by going into how exactly Bruce “died,” what went down during the Battle For the Cowl, what the Batkids did while Bruce was gone, and how Bruce came back. Hopefully it all makes sense?? We’ll see how it goes lmao.)

Part 1 - What Happened to Bruce:

So there was this event called Final Crisis (which I won’t go completely into since it would make this post a million times longer than it already is), but the bottom line is that Darkseid wants to overthrow reality and release his Anti-Life Equation, which would overthrow the whole planet and turn everyone into slaves. (If you’re interested in knowing more about the storyline, here’s a Reddit thread that explains it WAY better than I could.) 

What I CAN tell you is that during his final confrontation with Darkseid, Bruce is hit by an Omega Beam and turned into a burnt chicken nugget killed. Poor guy.

Final Crisis #6

Clark and Diana bring the body back to the Batcave and break the news to the Batfamily. Batman #687 covers a good portion of the aftermath such as Bruce’s funeral, the Batfamily grieving, and Dick coming to terms with his new responsibility of becoming Batman.

Batman #687

Part 2 - Battle For the Cowl: 

Musical chairs time, fellas! After word gets out that Batman is gone, Gotham erupts into chaos. Dick doesn’t want to take over the mantle, Tim needs Dick to take over the mantle, and Jason says “fuck it” and takes over the mantle himself because somebody around here has to. He becomes this murderous psychopathic Batman and starts taking out criminals with deadly force because someone’s gotta do the job, so it might as well be him.

Batman: Battle For the Cowl #1

(Okay honestly, this series had some pretty bad characterization overall, which sucks since it’s such an important storyline. Jason is portrayed as this violent psychopath, which...okay, he was kind of insane after the Pit and all, but not to this degree. Personally, I choose to owe the bad characterization to Bruce’s death because as much as Jason resents Bruce for all he’s done, he does still love him and losing him would be devastating, which would exacerbate his already fragile mental health. As for Damian, this happens roughly three years after his first appearance, so we can assume it’s been a few months since he first joined the family. He’s still relatively new at this point, so nobody knows how to write him yet. He ends up being depicted as if his main two personality traits are Bratty and Assassin-Child and that’s it. It’s all just a mess.)

Anyway, Tim tells Dick to become Batman and stop Jason’s reign of terror. Dick says no, so Tim follows Jason’s lead by saying “fuck it” and putting on the cowl himself. He goes to confront Jason, which ends in Jason beating the crap out of him (again) and leaving him for dead after Tim declines his offer to become Jason’s Robin. Dick goes to save Tim and ends up fighting Jason. 

Battle For the Cowl #3

Dick wins, Jason disappears, Tim is fine, and Dick finally gets his head out of his ass and becomes Batman. 

Part 3 - What Happens to Each Batkid While Bruce is “Dead”?:

Dick: 

As I said, Dick becomes the new Batman a month after Bruce’s death. He’s got big shoes to fill, and it takes some time for him to get used to his new role. He and Damian end up flipping around the classic Batman and Robin dynamic, with Batman now as the fun counterpart to Robin’s edginess. Dick, Damian, and Alfred relocate to the penthouse above the Wayne Foundation building, operating out of a secret Bat-Bunker in the basement.

Batman #688

Jason: 

After Battle For the Cowl, Jason is still batshit insane and determined to make Dick’s already stressful life even harder by becoming a supervillain with an ugly costume and an even uglier hairstyle. (I know it’s just because the artist sucked, but still. Jason is horrifying to look at during this time.) He mostly just gets on Dick’s nerves by running around Gotham with his new sidekick Scarlet and killing criminals as Batman and Robin wannabes. Eventually, Dick has Jason committed to Arkham Asylum and he hangs out there until Bruce returns.

Batman and Robin (2009) #5

Tim: 

Tim...doesn’t do great after Bruce’s death, mentally. Dick makes Damian Robin, his reasoning being that Robin is more of a sidekick and he sees Tim as his equal. By making Damian Robin, Dick hopes that it will give him the stability he needs to keep him from straying back toward the “bad” side. (It’s the right move ultimately, although his execution was pretty messed up since he didn’t discuss it with Tim beforehand, but he’s allowed to make mistakes. Dick’s father just died and now he’s in charge of picking up the pieces of their broken family. It’s a lot to handle.) 

Long story short, Tim has a breakdown, realizes that Bruce is alive, dons the Red Robin identity, and cuts ties with his family to travel the world in search of proof. It’s a rough time. 

Red Robin #1

Damian: 

Our little guy becomes Robin! So proud of him! As I explained earlier, Dick makes Damian his Robin with the assumption that it will keep him out of trouble, and he’s right on that account. He mentors Damian, teaching him how to channel his violent instincts into something productive, and it works! Slowly but surely, Damian makes the transition from bratty assassin to actual hero!

Batman and Robin (2009) #22

Cass:

Duke sadly was not introduced at this point in time, so he missed out on all the pandemonium. Cass, however, has been Batgirl for years by now, but she got kind of pushed aside by the writers after Bruce’s death. Bruce disappears shortly after adopting Cass, but once he was “dead,” the writers sort of moved Cass around for a while, not quite knowing what to do with her. First she was with the Outsiders. Then they got disbanded and Cass tried forming a new network of heroes to take over for Batman if needed. Then she helped out in said network during Battle for the Cowl, taking care of a newly ravaged Gotham. Then Cass gave the Batgirl mantle to Stephanie Brown after she became disillusioned with the role, thanks to the loss of her father and mentor. Then Cass picked up and moved to Hong Kong to “follow Bruce’s plans” by continuing whatever work he had set up for her there. It was all very vague and confusing, and Cass more or less got swept under the rug during this time. Thanks, writers.

Batgirl (2009) #1

Part 4 - How Bruce Came Back: 

When the Blackest Night storyline happens, the Justice League realizes that the corpse buried under Bruce’s grave is apparently not the real one and that he’s actually alive out there somewhere! How wild is that! This is further proven by Dick after he places Bruce’s body in a Lazarus Pit to revive, which has the same result because it’s very clearly Not Bruce and they should have listened to Tim from the start.

Batman and Robin (2009) #9

Anyway, what actually happened is that the Omega Beams that Darkseid shot at Bruce didn’t kill him, but rather blasted him back through time to the prehistoric era with his memories wiped. The Omega Energy inside of Bruce ends up catapulting him through various time periods, which is all part of Darkseid’s plan. With each time-hop, Bruce builds up more Omega Energy in his body which, when he gets back to his original time period, will be unleashed and destroy everything.

Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne #5

It’s been a little under two years since Final Crisis, though in-universe it’s uncertain exactly how long Bruce has been “dead.” We can assume it’s been a year, give or take. The way he comes back is too scientific and complicated for me to understand, so uhhhh the bottom line is that Tim and a few Leaguers save Bruce at the Vanishing Point and the day is saved! Hooray! 

Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne #6

(If you want to read about how it actually goes down, then I seriously recommend reading Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne. It’s only six issues, so it’s a quick read and it explains the situation far better than I ever could.)

Bruce eventually reunites with his family after spying on them for a period of time as Insider to see what has changed in his absence:

Bruce Wayne: The Road Home

After that, things quickly settle back into their new normal. Dick and Damian stay on as Batman and Robin. Bruce goes back to being Batman as well, with him handling Batman Incorporated business and Dick continuing as Gotham’s defender. Tim keeps the Red Robin outfit, Steph stays on as Batgirl, and Cass becomes Black Bat. Jason stays in Arkham for a while before filing an appeal to be moved to a regular prison. He kills 82 inmates in less than a week and gets transferred back to Arkham, which he promptly escapes from. It’s a ride, I tell ya.

Aaaaand that’s about it! I hope this answered all of your questions!

[fridayfirefly]

Lavender for Tranquillity, Pink Aster for Love

Read Lavender for Tranquillity, Pink Aster for Love on AO3

Masterlist

Written for Maribat March Day 16 - Magic

“Here's your drink."

"Thank you," Marinette said with a smile, setting the coffee mug down next to her textbooks. She was doing some last-minute studying for her upcoming Herbology final, and the coffeeshop sandwiched between the Business Department and the Herbology Department was her favorite spot to study.

Setting down her pen, Marinette picked up the coffee cup and took a long sip. Immediately she knew something was wrong. The entire taste of the drink was wrong, and not in a subtle way, as if the barista used an incorrect ingredient. Marinette had ordered a plain vanilla lavender latte, but this drink was something entirely.

The shock of adrenaline through her veins hit Marinette like a bus. Not only had she been given the wrong drink, but she had also been given a drink infused with an alertness charm that had her breath shortening and her hands vibrating from the extra energy.

On shaky legs, Marinette stood up and walked over to her waitress. "Excuse me," Marinette said apologetically. "But I think you gave me the wrong drink. I ordered a vanilla lavender latte."

The waitress's eyes widened as she saw Marinette's shaking hands. "Oh no! I gave you the chai latte infused with an extra-strength alertness charm."

Marinette couldn't identify the drink by taste, but given that her heart was racing as if she had just finished a marathon, the extra-strength alertness charm sounded about right. "Yep."

"I am so sorry about the mixup. Your drink will be free, of course, and you can have anything you want on the house. It's my first day, and I was supposed to take this to take four but I took it to table fourteen - that it, your table - by accident."

"It's alright. Everyone makes mistakes. I'll have my vanilla lavender latte, as well as two blueberry muffins - one for me and one for the person at table four, the one was also involved in the drink mixup.

The waitress nodded eagerly, obviously relieved that Marinette hadn't gotten angry at her. "Of course. I'll bring everything to your table momentarily.

Glad that the mixup was over, and still buzzing from the effects alertness charm, Marinette went back to her table to continue studying. Having grown up in a bakery all her life, Marinette knew the different herbs and flowers well. She grew up eating lavender cookies when she was anxious and passionflower icing right out of the mixing bowl when she needed comforting.

Marinette read the words out loud off the page, cementing them into memory. "Wormwood for divination, juniper for protection, passionflower for contentment, aster for patience, lavender for peace and tranquillity, roses for love and affection."

"Excuse me."

Marinette looked up from her textbook to see a young man standing beside her table. "Can I help you?"

He uncomfortably rubbed the back of his neck. "I wanted to apologize for the drink mixup. I'm sure that my extra-strength alertness charm wasn't what you were expecting."

Marinette realized that he must be the other participant in the drink mix-up, the one whose alertness charm she drank. "No worries. It wasn't anyone's fault. It was an accident."

The man nodded. "I also wanted to thank you for the blueberry muffin. It was a nice gesture."

"Oh, you're welcome..." Marinette trailed off, pausing the conversation for him to introduce himself.

"Timothy Drake, but you can call me Tim. And you are?"

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Are you a student at Gotham University?"

Tim nodded. "Yep. I'm in my junior year. I assume you go here as well, though I don't think I've ever seen you around before. What's your major?"

"I'm a sophomore fashion major, with a specialization in Thread Magic. Also, a Herbology minor, which I know is an odd choice. What about you?"

"I'm double majoring in Business and Charms, so I know all about odd choices."

"Take a seat," Marinette offered. "If you explain your odd choice in majors, I'll explain mine."

"Sure." Tim smiled at her. "A business major was the practical choice for me, as I always planned on taking over my family business. I guess I was getting a little sick of the practical choice, because I couldn't quite shake my interest in magical academia. That was what led me to the Charms Department. I never intended to major in Charms, until I found out that I had nearly all of the required credits to add a Charms major to my diploma."

"I understand all about mixing practical with completely impractical. I've known since I was young that I was gifted in Thread Magic. I used to embroider sigils into all of my clothes. It was a natural choice, choosing to become a Fashion major, because it allowed me to pursue thread magic as a career. Then, one day during freshman orientation when I was exploring campus I wandered into one of the greenhouses. I was instantly enthralled, as if it was fate for me to work there. I bribed my academic advisor with homemade cookies to let me drop my Potions elective to take Intro to Herbology, and ever since then I've been working in the Herbology department."

"That's not the oddest reason," said Tim. "Sometimes magic drives us to do things we don't quite understand. You just have to go with it."

"Hmm," Marinette hummed in agreement. She let her mind wander for a moment until she realized that she was staring at his lips. She tore her eyes away from them, instead, fixing her gaze on her latte. "So why did you need to extra-strength alertness charm anyway? Finals week all-nighter?"

Tim nodded. "I stayed up all night studying because I had two finals this morning, and in twenty minutes I'm getting a ride back home to my family's house for a big family dinner. Trust me, I would prefer a nap to an alertness charm, but desperate times call for desperate measures."

"You know what's better than an alertness charm?"

"What?"

"Some fresh air," Marinette smiled. "If you'd like, I could take you on a tour of the Herbology greenhouses."

Tim's face brightened up. "Sure, I would love that."

Marinette finished the rest of her latte and returned the mug to the front of the coffeeshop. She and Tim then left the coffeeshop in the direction of the Herbology greenhouse. The sun was shining brightly overhead, and Marinette could feel the call of the magical plants deep within her bones. That was Marinette's favorite part of being a Green Witch - the connection she felt to nature was indescribable, but when she did try and describe it to her friends and family, she emphasized that it felt incredibly right.

"Herbology was the subject you were studying for in the coffeeshop, right?" asked Tim.

Marinette nodded. "Yep. I was just reviewing some notes. I'm still a little nervous about it, but I don't think I can study any more than I already have."

"I hope you do well."

Marinette blushed. "I really hope so. If I get a good enough grade in the course, I might be able to get a position on the Herbology Department research team. It's very selective, though. They only take two students from each year."

Marinette and Tim walked up the stairs to the front doors of the greenhouse. Marinette opened up the doors and let the warm, humid air wash over her. "I could just live here forever, and never leave," she said with a smile.

Tim tugged at his shirt collar. "It's a little too humid for my taste."

Marinette shook her head. "That's what I thought at first too, but you get used to it. Eventually, the humidity stopped being annoying and started reminding me of all of the positive feelings that I associate with the greenhouse. Even if it does still make my hair frizzy."

Just as Marinette was about to start her tour of the greenhouse, a timer went off on her phone. "Oh!" She exclaimed, pulling it out of her back pocket. "My final starts in ten minutes. I guess I thought I would have more time to show you around."

Tim shook his head. "It's no problem. I have to leave soon anyway, to catch a ride back to my family's house. They drive me nuts, but they're family," Tim said with a shrug.

"Here, how about we reschedule for some other time." Marinette grabbed a scrap of paper out of her backpack and wrote her phone number down on it.

"Sure." Tim pocketed the paper. "Do you live in the area?"

Marinette shook her head. "I'm an international student, from Paris. I won't be back in Gotham until next semester."

"That's a shame. I suppose I'll see you next semester, then."

"Oh wait, one last thing." Marinette plucked a blossom from the flowerbed beside her. "Pink aster, for patience. To help you put up with your family."  Marinette smiled and tucked the flower behind Tim's ear.

"Thank you, Marinette."

"I'll see you soon, Tim." Marinette watched him leave the greenhouse and get into a car parked beside the coffeeshop. A question lingered in her mind. When she gave Tim the flower, was it to give him the patience to survive his family dinner or was it to give him the patience to wait for her to return to Gotham. Either way, what she had no excuse for was giving him, out of all the shades of aster growing in that flowerbed, the pink variety. Pink aster was, as Marinette knew well, the aster that symbolized love.

With a shake of her head, Marinette left the greenhouse. It was silly to think of love when she only just met him. Love at first sight never seemed to turn out well for Marinette. She would meet someone, fall head over heels in love with them, harbor an unrequited crush for months, and eventually admit her feelings, only to be shot down every single time. It was exhausting. Marinette's first rule when she came to Gotham was that she would never let someone crush her heart again.

Yet, Marinette couldn't shake the feeling that this time was different. There was a seed of hope buried deep inside of her that was telling her that something about Tim was different. Maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way about her.

As Marinette stepped into the Herbology lecture hall to take her final, her phone buzzed with a text alert. She turned her phone on and her face lit up with a smile when she saw who the text was from.

Unknown Number: Good luck on your final and good luck getting that research position! I can't wait to see you again next semester! (P.S. This is Tim)

Marinette had a good feeling about what was to come.

@maribatmarch-2k21

[lilousmustaches]

L.A nightmares

Jensen Ackles x Reader

Warnings: TW!!! Sexual harassement, authorities using their power in a nasty way, dissociating, anxiety. 

Notes: Hey! Here i am after years writing Jensen x reader again! How do you feel about it? But okay... this fic. I had this idea when i saw a thread on twitter that told a story about an event that Jensen was with Danneel, they saw a girl being harassed and Jensen immediataly intervened. I can't find this post anywhere but i truly believe that he is that type of guy. Be safe out there ladies! 

Summary: Jensen and the reader are co-stars and travel to L.A together, just to pass throught a series of unfortunate events. 

xxXXxxXXxx

"Here's the next week script (Y/N)." A girl that worked around the set said polity handing you a large new script. You had seen her around before, what was her name? Lauren... Laura! Was Laura. You hated not knowing people's name, especially those who worked with you and for you, but it was so many people walking around, everyday a new person, that made it a bit hard.

 "Thanks Laura!" You asked with a small smile that she retributed and walked away. You started to leafing through the next script seeing that you had more scenes in this episode than in the last two you appeared. 

 "(Y/N)!" Someone shouted making you immediately lift your gaze seeing a smiling Jensen in front of you. "I didn't know you would be here today!" He said hugging you and felt almost dizzy with his perfume. He was definitely one of most good smelling men you ever came across. 

 "You seen me yesterday J." You said laughing breaking the hug and the struggled. 

 "Still missing you though." He said putting his arms in your shoulders and started walking with you again. You had entered the Supernatural cast years before, being a really important character and recently, Sam's love interest. You didn't appeared on every episode but in the most of them, like Misha, for example. Because of this, he was one of your best friends, along with the boys that eventually you became inseparable. Always hanging out together, laughing and pranking each other. It truly was a family. Although you had to kiss Jared sometimes because of some scenes, you saw him practically like a older brother. But with Jensen... Well, that was a whole another story. "What are you doing here anyway? I thought that you had already taken the fight for L.A" 

 "I had to adjust some details of my last scene." You explained. "Why? You wanted me gone, that bad?" You joked hearing him huffing. 

 "Well, yeah, I can't even look at your face anymore." Jensen joked back making you roll your eyes and he laughed, squeezing you harder. "Just kidding sweetheart, you know pretty damn well that I never can bring myself to be tired of you." He said like it was nothing making you blush a little bit. Usual.

 You were already in the outside part of the set and spotted Jared and Misha coming at your direction. 

 "Good things to say Ackles, because I will be going with you to L.A" You explained when the boys came closer. 

 "Really? Thank god you will be saving me from a boring trip with that moron." Jared said stepping up in the conversation referring to Jensen, because Misha wouldn't be able to go to this one, and you smiled. You would take a fight a few days earlier than the boys but because of the problem with one scene, you had to go with them. 

 "Really, argh, I'm so excited." You said making a strange face and they laughed. "It's going to be my first award!" 

 "It's gonna be fun." Jared said and Jensen smiled in adoration looking at you,  lot shorter than him and a few years younger. 

 None of you knowing what kind of things this trip could bring. And man, there were a lot.

 XxXxXxxXx

"Wow." Jensen breathed out stepping up in the apartment you would share in this three days in the city of angels, Los Angeles. Some of the cast had to come to be present in a award that was going to happen in the city. Jared and Genevieve, his wife, opted to stay in a hotel but you had this friend that was out of town and offered her place for you to stay, and you took it, inviting Jensen since you knew he wasn't a big fan of hotels. 

 "Pretty nice, hun?" You said with a little smile realizing that it had been a while since you stayed in there and he nodded. 

 "Tell me about it." He said looking around. The place was pretty wide and cozy. A little fancy but with a lot of little fun things, like a orange table, some colorful frames around and a blue fridge. Your personal favorite. 

 You two adjusted yourselves in the two guests rooms that had in the apartment beside the suite and started to get ready for the dinner Gen invited you. It was some friends of her and some producers, directors and a bunch of kind of important people in the movie industry. You didn't recognize any of the names Jensen told you that would be attempting to it, but why the hell not, you wanted a fun night with some of your friends. 

 You finally finished your makeup and with a last look in the mirror you step out of the room going to the living room, only to find Jensen there, sitting on the couch, ready to go, scrolling throught his phone. Soon as he heard your high heels getting closer, he lifted his gaze, losing his breath for the second time this day. 

 "Wow." He breathed out looking at you with a loose short black dress, red high heels and lipstick. "You look beautiful (Y/N)." He said honestly staring at you and you felt yourself blush. 

 The truth was that you were completely in love with him. For a few years now. Since you started the series, Jensen caught your eye. I mean, how could he not? He was handsome, funny, sweet, always smelling good and the most important thing.... He was caring. Jensen Ackles was one of the most caring guys you knew. Got a problem? Jensen would listen. Hell, Jensen would solve it. And not just with his closest friends, but with everybody around him. He always offered help, not matter what. He makes sure his PA, and the people around set already had breakfast before work. He makes sure to offers to take water, every time someone get drunk on the casts parties. It was the details. And you loved them all. 

 You quickly became friends, and you were okay with being just that. Besides the friendly flirting it's not like you expected something else. Just having someone as incredible as him to call your friend was enough. 

 "Well, you don't look too bad yourself." You said and he laughed, rolling his eyes getting up of the sofa. "But thank you." 

 "I meant it (Y/N), you look like you could break some hearts tonight." Jensen continued to compliment you as he opened the apartment door. "But let's go miss, Jared said that we are already late." 

 You called an Uber to take the two of you to the restaurant placed in DownTown, a district in Los Angeles, one of your favorite parts of the city. Although you enjoyed every little piece of it, you just loved L.A, it made you feel good. After some minutes in the car, and some easy going conversation with Jensen, the driver announced you had arrived. Just for the entrance you could tell it was fancy. 

 "I thought it was just a dinner." You said immediately when you entered the place, looking around seeing that the restaurant was closed for the event and everybody was up talking and walking around. Some waiters were passing serving some food and some of them with trays serving wine, whiskey and champagne. 

 "Yeah, I thought so too" Jensen said, looking around surprised as well. "Hollywood, and their people with grandeur complex." He said making you chuckle. 

 "(Y/N)! Jensen!" You heard and spotted Jared smiling and waving you, with Genevieve by his side. You and Jensen reached them, after a waiter stopped you offering something to drink, you went with wine and Jensen with whiskey. "You finally got here! I was already thinking you wouldn't make it." 

 "Stop being dramatic, we were just a little late." Jensen said hugging his friend and then Gen. You doing the same. 

 "(Y/N) is so good to see you, it has been a while hasn't it?" Gen said breaking the hug and you agreed. Since you became friends with Jared, the friendship with Gen came along and you two just hit so well, in the set, your friends was mostly males and you loved having some girl company when she was around. She introduced you to her friends, that first invited her to the event. They were also actors, and they explained how they met in a project Gen was part of when she was just beginning her career.

 "So, are you guys excited about tomorrow? Heard you're competing in two categories right?" Aaron, one of Gen's friends, said referring to the awards you would be attending because of Supernatural. 

 "Yeah! Especially this girl here who is totally a award virgin." Jared joked putting his hands on your shoulders and you giggled, rolling your eyes.

 "Can you blame me? It's a big step in someone's career!" You defended yourself. "Oh it definitely is! I remembering when I went to my first award, I was so nervous and I wasn't even running for anything." Aaron laughed taking a sip of his wine. "It's just a great place to meet important people."

 "It sure is." Yan, the other friend, agreed. "But if I'm being honest, we are just in the right place for networking right now. Every big fish that can hire and fire you from any huge project in the industry is here tonight." 

 "I noticed... That guy over the balcony is practically one of CW's owners right?" Jensen said holding his whiskey, discreetly pointing at some guy behind you. Your turned around to look, after all one he was one of the owners of the channel Supernatural passed. The guy was a lot older, bald and plus sided, but you quickly turned around when he caught you facing. 

 "Yep, Tony Garcia." Aaron answered. The six of you passed a few more minutes talking and drinking, until they parted to talk to more people that was there. You got that Tony guy staring from time to time. You walked with Jensen for a bit, meeting some great and important people, as Yan had said. Talked for some time with Jared, he was already funny but got even funnier when he was tipsy. And finally, passed some time with Gen... until you had to go to the bathroom.

"(Y/N) right? The Supernatural star!" The Tony guy stopped you when you were getting out of the toilet, in your way back to Jensen that was laughing with some other three mans. You laughed a little embarrassed, why that guy knew your name? Okay, you literally worked for him but he was way far away in the enterprise. 

 "I don't if it could be called that, but yeah! I'm (Y/N), pleasure to meet you!" You said smiling extending your hand to him and he quickly shake his head. 

 "Nah, I don't do hand shakes with beautiful woman like you." Tony said with a laugh already pulling you to a hug. His hand in your back was dangerously close to your butt, his breath stank like whiskey - a great amount of that -, the tone of his voice and the intimacy he putted on the hug was enough to make you uncomfortable. This wasn't right. You could sense something was terrible wrong. "And believe me when I say beautiful, I mean something else." 

 "Ha ha." You gave him a yellow smile already grossed out by the man in front of you. What he was implying? "It's a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Garcia, but if you excuse me I-..."

 "So you know who I am!" He interrupted you, interrupting your way to leaving the conversation too. His tone already implied power and dominance, as if his name had a big weight in the conversation. "Well, as one of the CW's owners I have to say Supernatural brings a lot of benefits for us. I'm happy about the success of the series! I can see why the audience increased after your entrance." Tony said with pure maliciousness in his voice looking you up and down, showing no shame, looking you as if you were totally naked. "I believe woman don't last much on the show, but it would be a shame if you had to leave." He said and you knew that it was a threat. He was threading you.

 You gulped feeling your throat burning from holding back tears. The only words that crossed your mind was 'Every big fish that can hire and fire you'. God, you were a woman, unfortunately harassment was something you experienced all your life but it didn't make any less painful anytime it happened. The fame industry was gross and you knew that. You heard horrible stories about girls having to do every kind of sick bullshit to only get a chance for audition. You were so thankful that none of it happened to you, that you found a show with the most respectful co-workers and producers you could ever think of. But there you were, face-to-face to some sick nasty man that had the power to fire you in a snap of his fingers. 

 "It would indeed." You said forcing a smile, taking a sip of the wine in your hands.

 "I have to say, you have such a beautiful mouth." He said. "I wonder what it can do." 

 "It sure can drink." You said laughing nervously drinking the entire wine that was left in your glass. Only your glass was still half full. It didn't burned more than holding back the tears though.

 "Oh princess, no need to be nervous around me." Tony said laughing and you immediately related to the sound of a pig. That was what he was. A pig. Once again he passed his arm around your body pulling you close and resting his hand, this time, just down your boob but close enough to be touching. You were trapped in his grip, so close to his face, feeling that alcohol breath. You couldn't think the last time you were so uncomfortable, you needed to get out of there, you just needed. Every single part of your body yelled dangerous. "We're all friends here.... We can even be more than it tonight." 

 "Hey." You heard a deep voice by your side and you almost missed the sight of Jensen's hard expression by the tears that now was blurring your eyes. "Let go man, I believe you're making her uncomfortable." 

 "Hey..." Tony laughed looking at Jensen, letting you go and you didn't noticed you were holding your breath until that moment. You immediately stepped away from Tony, going to Jensen's side. "We were just chilling... what? Playing Dean for so long that incorporated the hero type?" 

 "Yeah, it didn't look like chilling to me." Jensen said not losing his posture and not falling for any of his bullshit. Jensen was in the middle of a conversation with some directors, exchanges tips, when he saw you from far away simply drinking your whole glass of wine all at once. He knew you to well to notice something was wrong, and he didn't need more than 10 seconds to understand what was happening. "And relax! I know how to separate my character really well, but I do believe we have basic ethics principles in common." 

 "Okay smart boy." Tony said with now anger is his features. "Remembering who you are taking to. Supernatural can turn into a one star show really quick. And you..." He said turning to you. "Consider yourself fired."

 "As far as I know you don't decide shit about my show, but I do know that you need to start respecting women." Jensen said in the same low tone, with anger in every word. "Excuse me." 

 Jensen leaded you the way making sure you didn't even pass near Tony again, he was with a gentle hand in your back almost not touching you and quickly you two were already outside and you saw him calling a cab. 

 "I'm sorry (Y/N), I got so angry... You wanna go home or you want to stay more? That dick won't get any closer to you, I promise." Jensen asked turning to you and looking straight into your eyes with concerned. 

 "I just wanna go home Jens." You said with a chocked voice letting the first tear fall down. You were in shock, practically shivering. You always says to yourself that the next time something like that happens, you were going to stand, be loud and not take it quietly. But every time you freeze. Every fucking time. 

 You dissociated the entire way back home, with a million thoughts in your head and at the same time, none. You noticed with the corner of your eyes, Jensen constantly looking at you to check and typing something on his phone, probably letting Jared know what happened and why you headed off. He didn't try to talk to you, and honestly you were grateful for that. 

 Immediately when you entered the apartment, you went to the shower. The water was burning hot but it felt like nothing in your body. You didn't know what trigged you so hard, thinking about it, the situation was kind of quick and it could have been a million times worse. But you were so scared that he would fulfill his word. Mans like him don't just accept being rejected, you felt so small.... Almost guilty. Tears started to fall down desperately and sobs got out of your mouth. You didn't know how much time you passed in the bath but saw some clothes in the bed you were sleeping when you got out. A grey sweatshirt and some boys shorts. Jensen. 

 "Hey..." You said with a small voice standing by the door of the room Jensen was sleeping, seeing him sitting by the end of the bed scrolling through his phone. "Thanks for the clothes."

 "Comfort sweatshirt right?" He joked seeing you in his clothes, referring to when you stole it on set and he passed days looking for it until he found you sleeping in his coat and listen to the excuse that it was your 'comfort sweatshirt', that it made you happy and safe. "Hey... com' here" 

 Jensen said with a soft voice when he saw your face struggling to hold back the tears. He back out laying in the left side of the bed opening his arms for you to join him, and you immediately did. Nestling in his chest, he hugged you strong hearing you cry quietly into his neck. 

 "You know... This is not even the worst that happen to me." You said when you calmed down after some minutes of cuddling in silence and Jensen moved his face away just enough to stare at you, but stayed quiet waiting for you to get out of your chest whatever you needed. "These situations had been happening with me, well with all women, since before we even know what this means. Teachers, taxi driver's, superiors, random people in public places, friends... I just... Tell myself that the next time something like that happen I will stood up for it. But every time it happens I just loose all my courage." 

 "And this it's not on you (y/n). This is unacceptable, shouldn't be happening at all and it's not your fault not having a response for it. This shouldn't be a situation you must be prepared for." Jensen said frowning his eyebrows looking at you deadly serious. "I'm so sorry you have to go through that bullshit almost daily. It fucking pisses me off."

 "Yeah I'm sorry too." You said with a weak smile feeling him stroking his thumb slowly in your back where his hand stood. "Do you think he can fire me?"

"No." Jensen said with certain. "He has nothing to do with Supernatural productions. And even if he could, I wouldn't let them. If he wants you gone, i would be gone too." 

"Jensen..." You were speechless. "Us women really suffer daily, but it makes a little better knowing that there are at least some guys out there that truly respect us. I am lucky to have fell in a job full of you. I really appreciate what you did for me today Jensen." 

 "I'm always gonna be here for you (Y/N)... And it's truly that least I can do." Jensen said with a rough voice. "There was this time on set, before you were even in the series, that Jared's PA was harassed by a camera man... Nobody saw the moment and from one day to another she asked for resignation. Nobody understood and we continued to treat the guy like a friend for months until we finally discovered what happened. I just.... I'm just glad that I was there with you tonight." 

 You just gave him a small smile feeling your heart so full that could explode. It was an awful night, it really was. But Jensen... He was everything you could ever ask in a friend. You hugged him strong and got into a position where your foreheads were touching. Yours and Jensen's eyes were closed but you could feel his breathing and the warm of his lips almost touching yours. You didn't know how long you stayed in that position but you surely didn't want that to end. 

 "I could be like this every single day." You said before you even could stop yourself and frowned when the realization hit you. "Wait did I just confessed?"

 He squeezed your waist to make you open your eyes that stood close because of the embarrassment, and you had to hold your breath when saw Jensen's green eyes, so vivid, looking so close at your tenderly. 

 "Yeah? Cause I would too" Jensen breathed out feeling a weight off his chest. What that really happening? The women he had feeling for months now, in front of him telling she liked him? He saw in your eyes the relief you felt cause of his confession and slowly finally gave you a long chaste kiss.

 You both knew that this was enough for now. The cuddling, the comfort of each other and the lightness of knowing the feeling were both sided was enough. There was going to have the moment for your skin meet his and there was going to have the moment for a serious conversation about your feelings.

 But for now all that matters was being in each other arms, and sensing that the night that started like a nightmare turned into a dream.

Tagging: @esoltis280 @smoothdogsgirl @helloangelicaaaaa @sleepylunarwolf​ @sympathyforluci​ @mirandaaustin93​ @atc74​ @spnbaby-67​ @reginaphalange2403​ @hi-my-name-is-riley​ @mychemicalimagines​ @multifandomlover121​

[kimberly-spirits13]

Random Characters with Creative/ Designer S/O HC:

Characters: Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Bart Allen, Conner Kent (RSS), Jamie Reyes

Damian Wayne (Fashion Design):

·      You’d started off your career when you were young

·      Your father wasn’t super supportive of everything and said that you were too young to start a business or what have you

·      So, with approval from your mother, you started one behind his back

·      He didn’t know until one day you ended up treading and going viral with a dress you made for a very famous celebrity

·      At that point he couldn’t stop you and was just impressed that you made it for months without him knowing

·      As long as you were keeping up schooling, it would fly

·      You ended up getting to travel the world and go to fashion week

·      More specifically NYFW

·      New York was the big one

·      That’s where you and Damian met

·      He was there for a business trip with Bruce and saw you at one of the shows the girls dragged him to

·      He was immediately infatuated with you and wanted to meet you

·      Thank the heavens he has sisters who wear your clothes to almost every gala

·      They got to go back stage and talk to you which led to you two exchanging numbers and the rest is history

·      When you started dating it was really hectic

·      You had a few kidnapping scares which made him want to break it off especially after you found out about the entire Robin thing

·      Heeeellllllllll no

·      You didn’t let that happen at all

·      Bruce actually commented and said that if you were that stubborn, Damian should probably keep you

·      Fashion week becomes more tiring and you also hate not being able to see Damian as much

·      He comes and visits though to make sure you don’t throw yourself out a window or something lol

·      When it’s over, you guys always take a long vacation to Lake Tahoe in a house Bruce owns on the Nevada side

·      He loves seeing your studio since it’s so organized and colorful

·      You’ve got walls of mood boards and mannequins with unfinished garments everywhere along with a massive soft couch that one of you is always sprawled out on

·      Sometimes he’ll send you pictures of pretty things he thinks you’d might like which ends up being incorporated into something

·      You taught him how to drape and make his own suit so that Alfred can have a day off

·      If anyone has a wardrobe malfunction and you’re around, you’ve got the needle and thread kit on hand at any given moment

·      Some things in the kit come in handy for picking locks too

·      He thinks it’s hilarious if you ever critique something or just call it straight ugly

·      If you’re at a gala and do it it’s even funnier

·      “Omg...”

·      “What is it beloved?”

·      “The drape and hem of that dress is the most preposterous thing I think I have ever seen. The fabric isn’t even the right material or fit for their shape. How rich are these people? And they can’t afford clothes that look decent on them?” You said giving them the famous inspecting side eye, “Also, who wears pearls with double sided sequins and fur?” “They can’t fix everything sweetie.”

·      *intense snickering from Damian*

Tim Drake (Software/ Web Designer):

·      It’s a match made in heaven

·      The two of you meet at a tech conference

·      He thought that you were such an interesting person to talk to and you had offers from places like MIT

·      You got along so well and then he found that you liked coffee like he did

·      Omg

·      He asked you out in the nerdiest way by making you decipher code on your own computer

·      You were kind of mad since you had been doing some other things for some major companies but after reading the message you determined you were fine with it

·      I mean how could you say no

·      Anyways the date when off great and eventually the media caught heavy wind of what was happening

·      You already knew about the Red Robin thing pretty quickly into the relationship though

·      Tim was a genius and you weren’t far behind

·      It was scary how similar you two were

·      From expressions and shared humor and meme taste, it was everything

·      Staying up together was another thing you did

·      Although, after some time one of you would pass out and the other would go to bed too

·      It was like a competition in sorts of who could stay up the longest but at the same time you needed him to sleep

·      The time he felt most betrayed by you was when you replaced his coffee with decaf

·      You guys just sometimes hang out in his bed tangled up in the weirdest way watching vines or weird movies

·      Totally the couple that would watch the worst rated movies just to laugh at them

·      Damian commented on it once and got a tired middle finger from you once

·      It wasn’t the classiest move however you couldn’t care less and Tim laughed his ass off

·      After that Damian seemed to respect you more

·      You guys probably have matching hoodies or something with really funny or obscure culture references

·      Clingy couple but nothing too over dramatic

Bart Allen:

·      Your designs in architecture went down in text books

·      You were famous for some really amazing builds and constructions

·      You started off by building these really insane LEGO sets or doll houses based off of designs in your notebook

·      Your mother still has the models in the attic which is kind of embarrassing when he sees it but he thinks it’s really cool

·      When he came to your time line he knew immediately who you were

·      He also totally came to you and complimented your work plus some additional hinting at what was going to happen pretty soon

·      Bart was there at the rise of your success

·      He basically was your number one fan the entire time

·      He’ll stay up with you as long as he can when you’re working

·      It’s kind of funny seeing that when you’re designing the things you went down in history for you’ll be stuck on something and he’ll just tiredly recommend what he remembers learning

·      You let him look through the designs sometimes but he understands if you don’t really feel comfortable with it

·      He also knows that in order to do all of this, you’re wicked smart

·      When the cave needed remodeling, you were the first person that they called in

·      The League was very glad that you were there and they didn’t have to pull any strings to get anyone different in

·      Plus, you knew what was needed since you were there all of the time

Kon Kent:

·      You got your start writing

·      It was the best thing that you did to relive stress

·      Once your parents saw that you were such an imaginative child, they got you in a ton of art related classes but you liked writing the most

·      Your writings had won awards before but then you wrote a book and it did amazing

·      So now, that’s what you do

·      Kon secretly actually really likes your books and met you at a book signing

·      Nerd

·      He got your number there and then you realized who he was

·      It was kind of funny cause you were both in that moment of realization like

·      Ohhhhh I know who you are.... kinda thing

·      He finds it hilarious that sometimes you’re just all over the place

·      When doing research your room isn’t terrible messy, it’s just piles and piles of notes and articles

·      You also probably have an expansive collection of literature yourself ranging from all genres

·      You don’t really like him to proof the book, however if you have an idea for something he’s all ears

·      Coffee dates to strange hole in the wall joints

·      Clark really likes you and finds your humor funny in the sense that it’s close to Bruce’s

·      Both very sarcastic and dry

·      Lex is just glad that his son found someone with an intellect

·      You don’t really like Lex though

·      That’s because you hear everything that Kon has to say about him

·      Although, without giving the man too much credit, the charade that he plays on the daily in quite impressive

·      You will never admit it however

·      Ma and Pa love you

·      So does Lois

·      You get along because of the writing

·      Sometimes Kon will just take you to some random part of the world if you need inspiration

·      “Hey wanna fly to Morocco?”

·      “Why not?”

·      You make a day trip out of it but if it’s a long one you’ll stay longer

·      Short distance he’ll fly you himself but overseas or something, he takes one of Lex’s jets

·      He likes to tease you sometimes but will take it easy during the editing phase

·      Those aren’t fun at alllll

·      You get cranky sometimes during that and he just backs off lol

·      He will make you sleep though

·      He doesn’t want you turning into Tim or anything for an extended amount of time

·      Nope

·      Not doing it

Jamie Reyes:

·      The team didn’t know anything about your job as an artist

·      You were internationally revered

·      No one knew of your job but for the boy wonder who saw the paint in your hair

·      Once the team did know however, everyone was amazed

·      You and Jamie were already dating by then though

·      He was always impressed with what you did

·      Laughed when you were covered in paint

·      He lets you paint or draw on his hand

·      You both have matching hoodies or jackets from your clothing line or merch that you painted

·      If you have a YouTube channel, he’s in some of the videos

·      Scarab notes that you have a more creative personality which Jamie responds to with a sarcastic remark

·      Your clothes are partly covered in paint

·      He’ll go to every show

·      During the Reach thing you still stayed with him

I have more parts of the Damian Wayne x reader story coming and also requests but I’m just getting into school which is my priority so that’s why I’ve been a bit more inactive. Anyways I hope you liked this one and I can’t wait to put out more 

[delightfullysubatomic]

All Bar Luke doesn’t get the hype it deserves!! It’s such a fleshed out and deeply told story for something that is entirely monologue up until the final phone call. Tim’s insanely good at writing!! I feel like that’s finally being recognised with Wife and Mulberry and the mini script conversations in those two books but I still feel he’s worth more writing home about...

I agree! 

I'd forgotten about the final phone call, such a good way to end it. I find it so interesting that ABL was his first real solo thing too, you'd think it would have led him to more writing but I guess his poet persona / live work took off right when it was coming to an end (it's weird to me that Screenwipe was at the same time as series 2 or 3 of it, but I suppose the early eps of Screenwipe had a different persona too).

It seems like really random bits of his article writing go widespread e.g. that tribute he did for Paul Ritter went all over twitter and I remember a thing he wrote about The Ashes too.

I always like written interviews where it's clearly been done by email too because his answers end up being really good little paragraphs, like this one.

I've heard him say he doesn't think he could write a novel and I assume that's because he'd find it hard to plot out because his prose / writing style is better than most stand up comedians, whose writing is usually quite irritating including some of his friends. I mean there's a reason him reading out little bits of his writing on stage works.

Reading between the lines, I think he's probably written pilots for TV / tried to get film scripts going, but hasn't got anywhere.

Wonderdate might have done something for him, it got nominated for a BAFTA but that was, what, 2018? Although I guess sometimes life gets in the way.

I do agree it's sort of getting recognised with HUTAAF / Mulberry but the number of interviews that just mention the cover or how small the text is is ridiculous (I'm still pressed at you Mr Herring). Is it so hard to read three or four pages before interviewing someone???!!! This was very cool from the New Statesman, it's sort of a promo article but is so gushing that I assume it's the interviewer's actual feelings. I also feel like all of Tim's stuff has a thread of loneliness running through it and his stuff in the last couple of years has sort of been the perfect outlet to express that but I haven't really heard that sentiment in reviews so maybe I'm projecting. The only thing I wish he'd done in the books is add a timeline of the poems at the end (or dated them). Lots of them are about the specific events of each day and in a couple of years time it will be hard to remember what was what (already is tbh).

Also, Tim's version of promo seems to be twitter / Instagram / his website / doing interviews and podcasts on the shows of his comedian friends, all of who will have extreme crossover in audience, and sometimes he doesn't even mention the book (plus he goes on Sunday Brunch which every comedian seems to do and I'd love to know if that works for anyone at all). I love that he uses Utter and Press - I mean obviously it's a big part of the whole thing - and I guess he's essentially making the publicity up himself (with the help of his agency), where authors would often have the publishing house doing a lot of that work. Plus it sounds like they never even necessarily had plans to get into the shops at first so it's probs been a lot more successful that him and Emily ever planned, so forget all that and support indie publishing.

Ps. lovely punning. Also, this was not supposed to be this long. I guess my brain went off in five different directions so I just stuck them all in.

[eldritchqueerture]

Chapter 7: Threads

Hello! Long time no see! The delay was unplanned and I'm sorry about that. I had an idea in the meantime to add more fluff chapters before shit starts to go down but then I couldn't get to writing them while telling myself that I will write them eventually, and then I had other ideas, and I was writing for Summer in the Archives, and so we are where we are. I decided to just keep posting what I have and if I do feel like adding fluff that would be happening in the meantime then I will just make a separate work in the series. I'm aiming to go back to my weekly schedule (haha), so I hope I can get the next chapter out next Friday. As always, please leave me a comment or come yell at me here on tumblr, it always brightens my day and keeps my motivation up! Enjoy <3

Martin looks at Jon’s sleeping face and thoughts swirl inside his head like tendrils of the mist that has been following him, tendrils that meet in one specific place – his feelings for him. He’s not proud of the fact that this is where his thoughts end up turning every time he thinks about Jon, considering the severity of the situation Sasha explained to him, but he cannot help wondering – despite his better judgement – if Jon doesn’t share them. He replays the worry in his brown eyes, the tight hugs, always ensuring he’s there, safe, and whole… He might be adding meaning to otherwise ordinary actions, of course, but he can allow himself to hope, for when that hope sparks inside him, the fog withdraws.

Jon is wrapped in a blanket on the cot in the storage room, where Martin has laid him. They found him sleeping on the desk in his office, his eyes all red-rimmed and puffed up; they didn’t comment on it. Martin carried him to the storage room and placed his glasses nearby. Tim went to take Sasha home, so she can get some rest, too, and was supposed to come back with lunch; the events of the morning are laying heavy on all of them and have left them quite hungry.

Martin closes the door to the storage room and comes back to his desk. Working seems a bit pointless when you know that your boss is scheming an apocalypse somewhere behind your back and you can’t quit the job, but he finds himself needing a distraction, so he opens up his computer to do some follow up research on Jason North and the alleged ritual site he found in the middle of a Scottish forest. Martin’s never been good with research, not like Sasha, so he soon stumbles upon a dead end. He ends up researching pictures for Scottish forests and cottages, and he daydreams, with his poem notebook by his side. How nice would it be to just move to Scotland, to a cottage like that and forget everything. Grow your own vegetables and herbs, welcome the sun every morning with a cup of tea; go down to the town for some groceries, meet some good cows; and maybe Jon is there with him, and he finally gets through to his head that he shouldn’t make tea in the microwave, and they cuddle on the couch while reading—

“’scuse us,” comes a deep voice and Martin looks up, startled, to find two delivery men standing there, in the Archives, with a big package next to them.

“Looking for the Archivist,” the other man says, but Martin figures that just because the voice is coming from a slightly different direction. They sound exactly the same; he finds they look similar, too. Their clothes are identical; they’re different makes and all but somehow, he can’t tell these two men apart. There’s… something off to them.

“Sorry, are you two meant—” Martin blinks, but one of them interrupts him.

“Won’t take up your time.”

“Just got a delivery.”

Martin opens his mouth, trying to process the fact that they seem to be two parts of the same whole. He wouldn’t be able to explain this thought if asked, but this is what runs through his head.

“Look, you really can’t actually—”

“Package for Jonathan Sims.”

“Says right here.”

He looks and yes, there, on the package, says ‘Jonathan Sims’ in a very ordinary, unassuming writing. He glances over at the door to the storage room and back at the two men.

“Well, he’s not—”

“We’ll just leave it with you.”

“Be sure he gets it.”

Martin struggles for words.

“Okay, I will, but you really have to actually—”

“’course. Much obliged.”

“Stay safe.”

“I’ll… try?” He responds with the first thing that goes into his head.

“Your recorder’s on, by the way.”

“Might wanna change that.”

Martin looks at his desk and he notices a tape whirring steadily in the recorder.

“Oh… so it is. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“At all.”

They both turn as one and leave Martin, the recorder, and the package alone. He hums, looking from one to the other and back.

“Well, I know for a fact that I did not turn you on,” Martin speaks to the recorder. “Maybe Tim felt in a mood for a prank. It is April Fool’s after all,” he huffs out a laugh. “Would be his style to do something, even with… all this happening.”

He stops the recording and turns to the package; before he can do anything else, though, the recorder clicks itself back on. Martin gives it a sideways look and his heart picks up the pace. He frowns and clicks stop again. One second. Two. There; it clicks the red button on its own.

Martin stands up and takes a step back.

“What the hell,” he breathes out.

Suddenly he hears a familiar laugh from the top of the stairs and energetic steps running down. Tim emerges from the doorway and gives him a surprised look.

“You okay, Marto?” He asks and places a paper bag on his desk, then points his chin at the package. “What’s that?”

“Uh…” Martin collects himself in a second. “Two delivery men just came by. It’s for Jon, apparently.”

Tim places a second paper bag and his coffee cup on his desk and walks around the package.

“No sender. Interesting.” He strokes his chin and looks at Martin with a grin. “We should open it.”

“Tim!”

“Look, boss is asleep, the package came to the Archives and not to his house, how private can it be?” Tim throws his arms up but seems to be watching Martin’s reaction more carefully. He doesn’t look very bothered, Tim assesses; he seems to be equally interested in the contents. He sighs and tosses him a letter opener.

“Fine, but you’re taking the blame,” Martin rolls his eyes with mock exasperation, and Tim’s grin gets wider.

“That’s the spirit!” He cuts the tape at the corners and opens the packaging to reveal an old wooden table; there’s a hole in the centre, Tim reckons about six inches square, and its surface is covered in intricate patterns resembling optical illusions. He frowns at it. “Huh. A table. Why would Jon…” He trails off as his eyes follow the hypnotizing patterns. “Interesting…”

Martin watches as Tim drops the letter knife to the floor, enraptured by the table. He wants to say something, to call out his name, but the fog from the edges of his vision spills out at the sight of the table and it blocks out the world; Martin stops feeling the chair underneath him and finds himself stranded in a sea of grey, thick fog.

“Tim? Tim!” He calls out but there’s no answer. There would be no answer, ever; he’s all alone here.

—

Jon wakes up to a nagging feeling that something is wrong. He blinks, trying to get rid of the sleep weighing heavily on his eyelids and gathers his bearings. He realizes he’s on the cot in the storage room, a blanket thrown to the floor next to him. He still feels too hot, and he takes off his sweater vest. What’s this feeling, gently pricking at the back of his mind?

He gets up, wobbly as he feels, and makes his way to the door. As he opens it, a voice makes its way to his ears.

“…friend mentioned poetry?” Jon squints his eyes, as light reaches him, yet he immediately recognizes the voice.

“…Gerry?” He asks and blinks – yes, he can make out the thin and long figure dressed in black, sitting on top of Tim’s desk. Tim is there too, leaning against Martin’s desk in front of Gerry, and Martin sits in the chair, his cheeks coloured just a little with faint pink. They all turn to him with surprise when he emerges. He can feel tension in the room, and he acknowledges the presence of something that looks like a table covered with a blanket in the middle of the room; the nagging in his mind grows into anxiety. “Something happened.”

“God, Jon, did we wake you up?” Martin jumps up to him with genuine worry and Jon smiles slightly, as he shakes his head.

“No.” He blinks again, to chase away the sleep and looks at Gerry and his inscrutable expression. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching a zombie rise from the dead, apparently.” Gerry gets down from the desk and crosses his arms. “Also saving the lives of his assistants by accident. I know you said you’re a mess but good God.”

Jon frowns with worry.

“Gerry, I’m serious.”

Something in Gerry’s demeanour changes as he sighs, and his expression clears.

“Well, I wanted to tell you that I’m in,” he says. “Whatever your crazy plan is, if you even have one, I want to hear it or help you make it; you weren’t picking up your phone, so I decided to come, pay you a visit.” He glances towards the table and his eyes cloud with a shadow. “And it turns out it’s good that I did.”

“What is this?” Jon walks over to the table and three pairs of hands shoot out to stop him. Gerry’s touch lingers comfortably, because apparently that’s what he does, and Jon isn’t so sure he minds it.

“An old table, with weird, hypnotizing patterns,” Tim says, and Jon detects a tinge of guilt in his voice.

“Did it have a hole in the middle?” He asks urgently and Tim nods.

“We need to get rid of it,” Jon looks in the direction of the stairs. “Put it in the Artifact Storage and make sure it’s covered.”

“Are you familiar with it?” Martin asks and Jon nods.

“Amy Patel case; the one where a person got replaced. Why would they—” Jon’s face falls and he turns to Martin and Tim. “Who delivered it?”

“It was two delivery men, really big, quite intimidating, but—uh, now that I think about it I can’t remember what they looked like…”

“Shit,” Jon sighs and rubs his face. “Okay, we really do need a plan.” He looks over their faces and his eyes stop at Martin’s disgruntled expression. “What is it?”

“What you need is rest,” he crosses his arms. “You pulled an all-nighter with Sasha, and you haven’t even slept for two hours now.”

“You do look like shit,” Gerry offers his insight and Jon fixes him with a glare.

“I can’t protect you when I’m asleep,” he says and looks pointedly at the table. “Clearly. Tell me wha—” He stops when Gerry squeezes his arm sharply. He takes note of the static in the air and clears his throat. “I want to know what happened.”

Tim sighs.

“Alright, it is kinda my fault,” he admits looking away. “I insisted on opening your package to see what’s inside. But in my defence, I thought it would be something funny; at least a bit humiliating for you, and we could laugh it off. The mood’s been horrible lately,” he grimaces. “The lines kind of… hypnotized me. I couldn’t look away and I started getting lost in them. It… It felt like being trapped in a web; the more I struggled to look away, the harder it was. I don’t know how much time had passed before your resident goth intervened. Then I came back to myself and Martin… he was grey again.”

Jon glances worriedly at Martin, who starts fidgeting with his fingers.

“I didn’t think you guys could see that,” he confesses. “It’s… it’s that fog you mentioned,” he says to Jon who nods, his lips pressed together. “It was… stronger this time.”

“He was a step from disappearing,” Gerry says, looking at Jon curiously. “I thought you guys were new here.”

“We are,” Tim says, looking at Jon pointedly. “You said you know why that happens.”

“I did,” Jon sighs and leans against the desk, next to Gerry. “I’m—Martin, I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

Martin looks away and he mutters something along the lines of “don’t worry about it”.

“The fog is… another one of the fears; called The Lonely or The Forsaken,” Jon says, looking somewhere into space. “It’s the fear that you’re all alone, that you can’t connect with anyone. Martin…” He exhales. “I have reasons to believe that your connection to the Lonely might have appeared in this… reality, along with my memories.” He finally looks up at Martin; there are no emotions on his face. “When did the fog first appear?”

“S-Sometime when I got transferred into the Archives,” he nods. “I thought it was just anxiety, but… y-yeah, it makes sense, I suppose.”

“You still don’t remember what you did to end up here?” Gerry asks and Jon shakes his head; Gerry clicks his tongue.

“So, what do we do now?” Tim looks at Jon. “What is Elias’ plan?”

“I…” He rubs his forehead. “I don’t remember exactly. I…” He trails off looking at them. They are waiting for him to tell them what to do. Martin, with colour in his eyes and something else there, something Jon doesn’t let himself think about; Tim, whom he hasn’t hurt yet, who still has hope and who isn’t filled with bitter anger and sorrow; and Gerry who’s alive, here with him, offering his help. Jon thinks about Sasha, the real Sasha who’s still there. He can’t protect them all from other Entities and Elias. Even with all of his knowledge, Elias still has more power here than him, and Jon sees that his threats weren’t a bluff. Jon deflates with a sigh. “We need to know if there’s a way to fill the tunnels with CO2 before the Hive attacks; and I need the table sealed shut - it’s not getting anyone this time. Other than that, I think we need to work the statements, like before.”

“Are you kidding?” Tim raises his eyebrows. “Elias is serving an Eye power and not letting us leave, and I’m supposed to still work for him?”

Jon swallows.

“Elias… He’s dangerous. Even with everything I know, he can still hurt us. I’m not risking an open war with him.”

“What is he gonna do, kill us?” Tim scoffs but he goes quiet when Jon gives him a hard stare. “Fuck off.”

“Murder isn’t usually his style of dealing with things, he generally prefers threats and blackmail, but he can definitely do that, too,” Jon says. “Let’s just say we don’t want to piss him off more than is necessary.”

“You literally punched him in the face today.”

“Yes, I know.” Jon grits his teeth and looks away. Tim narrows his eyes.

“He threatened you, didn’t he?” He asks and takes a step towards Jon. “What did he say?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Jon says coldly. “We need to get back to work.”

“Oh, no, you’re going back home and getting some sleep,” Martin shakes his head. “Or we refuse to work.”

Jon groans but Gerry places a hand on his shoulder.

“Go, Jon, I’ll keep an eye on them,” he promises and after a second of searching his face, Jon gives in.

“Fine. Be careful.”

“You, too,” Martin says and hands him the paper bag from his desk. “Eat this.”

Jon gives him a grateful smile and, with a last look at them, walks to the stairs and climbs up.

—

Gerry Delano sits comfortably on a park bench with a cup of coffee in his hand and sips on it slowly; he thinks about the things the new Archivist – Jon – said to him this morning. He looked tired; the bags under his eyes, the messy hair, the absolutely horrendous smoking habit (at that Gerry just chuckles to himself) and the clean but messy clothes speak for themselves, and Gerry didn’t want to say it, obviously, but it was this entire image of an absolute mess of a confused man that made him believe him. The marks are curious, yes, but Gerry has seen many things which he doesn’t understand, and he’s okay with that. No, this man is clearly in need of support and if he’s really taken over for Gertrude (and, judging by the sheer amount of his energy just screamingBeholding, that was very probable), he is in for one hell of a ride.

If Gerry would have to describe his perfect life, with his mother and Gertrude gone, he’d probably say he wants to find a normal job and get some peace and quiet; that being said, he did try that as a teenager, running away from his mother and her life. He told himself then that he didn’t belong in the normal world and would always find his way back to his mother. He abandoned that dream for a while, until Gertrude offered to help him get rid of his mother’s ghost. He thought that maybe if he helped Gertrude for a while, burned some Leitners in the meantime, maybe he’d have enough and manage to build a life that didn’t always border on getting killed by something supernatural; and so his life went on and he never really grew to feel at home in the “normal” world. He’d about accepted the fact that he’ll probably die on the job with the old Archivist, and he wasn’t very surprised to find how quickly he accepted it. It seemed fitting; much more so than getting a job at a coffee shop or other, and just living among people who had no idea what’s really out there. Then he got shot in Pittsburgh – a Slaughter case he’d tried to prevent – and he was forced to stay behind in the hospital. In some fleeting moments of consciousness he saw Gertrude holding the Catalogue of the Trapped Dead and he prepared himself to wake up as a ghost any time; instead, he woke up to an empty hospital room and a note in her handwriting – “Build your life here. Stay safe.” He thought if this weren’t his chance to build the life he’d imagined for himself then it would never come; and he was right. He soon discovered that making friends is way too difficult when you’re able to tell which Fear Entity marked them in that supernatural encounter they’re too scared to talk about, and he returned to London, searching for Jurgen Leitner himself. He thought he found him, but he ended up beating up someone who turned out to just be some pathetic old man. And here he is, back in the world his mother dragged him into without his consent. Gerry sighs and takes another sip of his coffee. Maybe the universe simply needs a pyromaniacal, angry goth who did in fact end up in the business of helping strays.

He directs his thoughts back to Jonathan Sims and the Institute. They need to form a plan and Jon said he would fill his assistants in on at least the basics. He takes out his phone and checks the time – 1 PM. He rules that’s enough time to explain the basics of the metaphysical functioning of the Fear Powers in the world.

He finds his last messages and opens the one Jon sent at his request for contact saving purposes – “Here. – Jon Sims”. He’s a creative one, isn’t he? Gerry saves the number as Jon Archivist, then changes it to Jarchivist, and grins; then swipes to call.

No answer. He tries again and it still goes to voicemail.

Gerry shrugs and finishes his coffee. He burned his last Leitner in the alley just before he met Jon, so he doesn’t exactly have any new leads. He thinks he might as well pay the Archives a visit; it’s been a while since he was there last time, with Gertrude.

The street is quiet when he walks up to the building. The aura of Beholding is quite strong here already and he looks at the Latin words above the entrance. “I watch, I listen, I wait.” Tacky.

He comes inside and turns towards the stairs leading down. He’s not surprised when the lady at the reception calls out to him.

“I’m sorry, sir! Can I help you?”

Gerry turns to her. She’s a small Chinese woman with a bob cut and huge glasses; she smiles but Gerry can recognize a customer service smile when he sees one.

“Oh, actually, I’m a friend of Jonathan Sims, the, uh, Head Archivist. Saw him this morning, I promised I’d drop a few notes.”

“Notes?” She glances over at the papers at her desk. “What’s your name, sir?”

“Gerry Delano,” he tries to smile as she checks something.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I have you anywhere as a potential source—”

“Oh, that’s weird. I worked with the previous Head Archivist, Gertrude Robinson? Jon had a couple questions about her management style, you know how it is,” he waves his hand. “New job can be stressful.”

She looks over his clothes and tattoos with a frown for a second and then sighs.

“Alright, Jon’s office is right downstairs, through the Archives, Mr. Delano.”

“Thank you very much,” he nods his head and runs down the stairs.

Gerry doesn’t know what he expected to find down in the Archives, to be honest. Probably Jon being interrogated by his assistants, or maybe no one at all; he definitely did not expect to find one tall man staring into swirling patterns of a table that gave him very mixed signals of the Web, and another man in his desk chair, staring into space with a very unnaturally grey stare and his form dissipating into mist.

“Oh, I swear to God,” Gerry curses under his nose and looks around. “Can’t I meet people normally once in a blue moon?”

He picks up a blanket that lays stranded on the ground and covers the table. He then snaps his fingers in front of the tall man’s face and waves his hand.

“Hey, you still there?” He asks and the man draws in a breath, rapidly, and blinks, then looks around in confusion.

“Wh-Wha…” His eyes land on Gerry and he frowns. “Who are you?”

“Someone who just saved your ass from something nasty,” Gerry says, turns to the other man and touches his shoulder. Still there.

“Oh, God, his eyes are grey again.” The tall man grabs his shoulders and shakes him. “Martin? Martin!”

“How did he manage to go so deep into the Lonely with you there?” Gerry asks and moves to look inside the Head Archivist’s office. Empty.

“Into the what? Martin!” He shakes him again and Martin blinks and exhales but does not acknowledge him at all. “Do you know what’s happening to him?”

“Where’s Jon?” Gerry looks at the man sternly.

“Jo—who the hell are you?” The man exclaims. “We need to snap him out of it!”

“It’s not that easy.” Gerry rolls his eyes and looks through Martin’s desk. “What does he love?”

“What?” The man looks at him confused and Gerry stifles a groan of frustration.

“Martin. He needs an anchor, something that he loves that will bring him back here.”

The man’s eyes search the desk frantically.

“Come on!” Gerry rushes him and the man groans.

“Can he hear me?”

“Allegedly.”

“What does that mean?!” He looks at him pressingly.

“It means I don’t know!” Gerry grabs one of Martin’s hands. “He might, if he’s not too far gone.”

“Martin,” the man grabs Martin’s other hand. “Martin, think about tea. Poetry. Um, about—” He’s cut off by Gerry’s groan of frustration. “What?!”

“That won’t work,” he shakes his head. “He’s in the fogs of The Lonely; he thinks he’s alone and that it’s never gonna change; that he can’t ever make meaningful connections with other people.”

The man’s eyes move frantically as he puts something together in his brain.

“Martin,” he squeezes his hand again. “I’m here with you, you hear me? You’re not alone and Jon is here too, and Sasha will be here soon, and we will all be with you here because we are your friends, okay? We’re—” His voice catches when Martin’s grey gaze lands on his face. Gerry unknowingly nods for him to continue. “Look, I know you’re convinced that you’re no help here because of that fake resume that everyone pretends not to know about, but you’ve been such an amazing friend through these couple of months and—” he searches for words before continuing. “And I know you have feelings for Jon, and you need to think about him because if you ask me, he’s head over heels for you too, and you’re just too oblivious to realize, both of you,” he laughs and a tear streams down his face. “So you need to think about him because he needs you to be here and stay here, and we need you too, okay, Marto, we—we really do…” He inhales, as Martin squeezes his hand back and blinks. The man sighs deeply with relief and leans his forehead on their joined hands.

“Tim…?” Martin speaks up with a very gentle, detached voice and then his gaze lands on Gerry who has now let go of his hand and stands back up. “Who’s that?”

Tim looks up and wipes away another stray tear, then stands up to face him.

“Yeah,” he frowns. “That’s a good question.”

Gerry smirks and climbs up to sit at one of the desks.

“Seeing how I just might have saved your lives; I’d rather think some thanks are in order.”

“I’m not kidding, who the fuck are you?” Tim crosses his arms and narrows his eyes. Gerry notices he stares at his tattoos like he’s trying to remember something.

“Eh, fine.” He rolls his eyes. “Name’s Gerry Delano, but you may know me as Gerard Keay.”

Recognition flashes in Tim’s eyes.

“We had a statement about you!” He says and immediately frowns. “You killed a man.”

Gerry chuckles.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“What are you doing here?” Martin asks and Gerry crosses his legs.

“Waiting for Jon, actually. I thought I may find him here, but it appears I must have found his assistants, am I correct?”

“And you know Jon how?” Martin follows up; his voice gains a bit of depth to it, and he tilts his head, much more present than a second before.

“We met in an alley outside the Institute this morning,” Gerry shrugs. “Or, late night. Morning might be pushing it. He didn’t mention it?”

Tim sighs and rubs his face and Martin shakes his head.

“Eh, that’s fine. You two look like you have enough information to process for the next two months.”

“Something like that,” Tim nods and leans against Martin’s desk. “Jon’s getting some sleep and we’d rather have no one disturb him. It’s been a… hard morning.”

“He did look like he hasn’t slept in a week, I’ll give you that.” Gerry shoots a glance at Martin; his skin is regaining color, but his eyes are still unnaturally grey, and the edges of his form are blurry; the fog still lingers. “Hey, um… Martin?” He asks and Martin looks at him with surprise.

“Yeah…?”

“Just getting your names since you haven’t introduced yourselves. But that’s okay, I’m good at picking up from context.” He smiles and continues before Tim can speak. “So, Martin, what is it that you do here?”

“Uh… excuse me?” He blinks.

“I’m just interested, tell me what your usual day consists of. What do you do for fun? Your friend mentioned poetry?”

He notes the blush on Martin’s face with some satisfaction; the dark green colour returns to his eyes, though, still, his edges remain blurry. Martin can’t answer however; as he takes a breath, he’s interrupted by the door to the storage room opening.

Jon looks, frankly, even worse than he did before; in addition to everything aforementioned, his eyes are now puffed up from sleeping and he has apparently ditched his sweater vest, leaving only a creased, light blue shirt.

“…Gerry?” He frowns at him and takes in the room. “Something happened.”

“God, Jon, did we wake you up?” Martin shoots upright and the edges of his form become solid for a second. Just a second.

“No,” he shakes his head and blinks at Gerry. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching a zombie rise from the dead, apparently.” Gerry jumps down from the desk and crosses his arms. “Also saving the lives of his assistants by accident. I know you said you’re a mess but good God.”

“Gerry, I’m serious.” Jon gives him a look and Gerry sighs, but it’s a sigh of mock exasperation which hides only fondness. From the moment he learned Jon is the Head Archivist, he knew he would be a lot different than Gertrude; even if at first it was “this kid is a proper mess” contrasted with Gertrude’s calculated craft. He can see that what actually makes him different, better, is that he cares. Even though Beholding has him in its grasp far stronger than it ever had Gertrude, he has that spark of human empathy that she deemed an obstacle. He wouldn’t be the kind to sacrifice his own assistants to stop the Apocalypse, which maybe doesn’t give them big chances of success, but makes Gerry trust him. It makes him feel safer and it makes him stand stronger, and maybe that is exactly what is needed. And that one detail, that seriousness in his voice when he asks what happened to his assistants – to his friends – and the worry in his eyes when he checks if they’re okay, that’s what fully convinces Gerry that this man is worth his effort. If they can’t save the world with a strength like that then maybe no one really can.

—

Martin opens the door to Jon’s office to see the man reading something in a book. He looks up at Martin and his lips twitch towards a smile.

“Hello, Martin,” Jon says and immediately yawns. “God, sorry.”

“I was about to ask you if you’re still working.” Martin takes a look at his desk; there’s two empty mugs pushed to the side, a tape recorder (not recording), and some books and papers. Martin notices Jon’s glasses are still where he left them after he found them near the cot in the storage room. “You’re wearing contacts now?” He asks and Jon raises his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Well, I- I noticed you didn’t wear glasses today,” Martin shrugs and points his chin at them. “You forgot them yesterday.”

Jon’s eyes stop at the pair of glasses, and he frowns.

“Huh.” He rubs his chin. “Checks out, I guess.”

“What?” Now Martin frowns and Jon looks up at him, breathing in.

“The, uh—The Eye powers,” he grimaces. “This happened before too. I don’t—I don’t need them anymore.”

“Oh.” Martin shifts. “Well, I just wanted to tell you, you should get some rest. It’s—It’s late.”

Jon smiles fondly, staring into the air. Martin wonders what he's thinking about. Is he going back to memories he doesn't have?

“I really should, shouldn't I?” Jon asks no one in particular and sighs. “Thank you, Martin.”

“F-For what?” Martin laughs a little bit confused, and Jon looks at him for a moment before he shrugs.

“For caring. For being there.”

Martin looks away and shifts awkwardly again. Jon's stare, though gentle, is piercing; overbearing. Martin can't yet decide if it's good or bad, but it is certainly a lot.

“I should—”

“Could you—”

They start at the same time and look at each other. Jon shakes his head and gestures with his hand.

“Please, go first.”

Martin takes a deep breath.

“Could you tell me what—what it is that you want me to remember?”

Jon opens his mouth and closes it. His forehead ripples.

“I...” he begins and sighs, looking at his desk. “I don't think it was you. I mean—I think that... that it was a different version of you. In my past.” He looks up and his brown eyes are sad. “So it makes sense you can't remember because it never actually happened for you.”

Martin deflates with a little “oh” and looks down. The hole in his mind is settling nicely in the fog and he doesn't question it. Why would he? It was always there. He’s only lived this life, not anything else – if anybody would know it would be Jon. And obviously, it was a different Martin that Jon fell— That Jon cared for.

“Were we…” Martin stops, the word “together" left hanging in the air, and Jon looks at him for a second before something flashes in his eyes.

“We don't—I mean, I can't really— It's, it wasn't you so...”

‘I can’t really expect you to have the same feelings now’ is what Jon does not say, but Martin, of course, has no way of knowing that.

“Right,” Martin nods, and he can see Jon's cheeks blush, much the same as his own must right now. Martin swallows the awkwardness and nods again. “Alright, I'll, uh... I'll leave you to it. Then. Get—uh, get some rest.”

He closes the door and exhales deeply. Well, that was disastrous; he thinks, as he walks towards the document storage. There’s something heavy weighing down on his chest but he chooses not to dwell on it; it wouldn’t provide him with any insights he didn’t already know.

[bluejayblueskies]

storge

n. familial love, born out of familiarity or dependence; a natural, unforced, instinctual love

Words: 3.3k

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Relationships: Danny Stoker & Tim Stoker, Sasha James & Tim Stoker (background)

Characters: Tim Stoker, Danny Stoker, Sasha James, Minor OCs

Additional Tags: AU - No Supernatural, AU - Everyone Lives/No One Dies, Internalized Acephobia/Arophobia, Implied/Referenced Arophobia (minor), Aromantic Character, Asexual Character

Summary:

Danny finished the last slice of the pizza they’d ordered, stared at the credits scrolling across Tim’s television screen from the cheesy Valentine’s Day rom-com they’d just finished watching, and said with feigned casualness, “I don’t think that’s for me.”

Tim, who had wanted that last slice of pizza, thank you very much, rolled his eyes and said, “Well, then I’m picking the pizza toppings next time. Maybe then we won’t have a pizza that only tastes like jalapeños.”

“Oh, absolutely not. Last time you put pineapple and pepperoni on it, which is grounds for termination from topping-decisions for life.” Danny paused, and then he took his eyes away from the television, looked at Tim, and said, with distinctly less casualness, “I meant the movie. Um. The romance part, specifically.”

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Or, read below (additional warnings below the cut):

Additional warnings: - character forcing himself to stay in a romantic situation even after he becomes uncomfortable - character mentioning the possibility of forcing himself to have sex with someone (doesn’t actually occur)

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So here’s the thing: Tim is terrible at giving gifts. It doesn’t matter how long he’s known someone or how many of their favorites he can list off the top of his head—he still always ends up getting them something so incredibly, horribly generic because he just can’t do it. Sasha’s never going to let him live down the time he got her the exact same mug she keeps in the archives because he panicked, okay? And it was the only thing he could think of that wasn’t just candles or soap.

 (“I honestly would have preferred soap,” Sasha said as she covered her mouth with one hand to stifle her laugher, the other still grasping the mug. Tim was significantly less amused.)

 The one silver lining to the whole thing is that it’s never been a problem with Danny. Not because Tim is necessarily any better at getting gifts for him, but because Danny treats each and every gift from Tim like it’s something incredibly special and unique. Once, Tim got him a six-pack of plain black socks—just to test his theory that Danny was just being nice, or maybe just as a joke (or possibly both)—and Danny said, with a million-dollar smile, “You know, I was just thinking the other day how cool it would look to pair a patterned sock with a black one. This is great, Tim!”

 Yeah, Tim’s pretty sure that Danny’s just fucking with him at this point. But honestly, Tim doesn’t really mind. It takes a lot of pressure off him during any of the traditional gift-giving seasons because he knows that whatever he gets Danny, Danny will just smile and thank him like it was what he’d always wanted.

 Maybe that’s why Danny does it, Tim thinks as he stares at the dozens of tabs open on his computer, each for a different online retailer. To relieve the pressure.

 If so, then Tim’s really ruining the whole thing now, isn’t he? Because instead of doing that follow-up Jon requested two days ago, Tim’s been agonizing over whether to get a mug or a shirt or a pin, or maybe something more personal like those sunglasses he’d seen the other day, or—

 Or maybe something from the million other terrible ideas Tim’s had. With a long, drawn-out groan, he pushes back from his desk, stands with a too-loud pop of his back that has Sasha glancing up from her paperwork with a grimace, and makes his way to the breakroom.

 He needs coffee.

 As he waits for the pot to brew—because he’s the only one who drinks coffee in the archives (and yes, Sasha’s intricately named espresso beverages are technically coffee, but he doesn’t deign to count them)—he closes his eyes and tries to convince himself, yet again, that there’s a good reason he’s putting himself through this, and that no, it is not a stupid idea that has a ninety-nine percent chance of backfiring horribly.

 It had gone like this:

 Four months ago, Danny had finished the last slice of the pizza they’d ordered, stared at the credits scrolling across Tim’s television screen from the cheesy Valentine’s Day rom-com they’d just finished watching, and said with feigned casualness, “I don’t think that’s for me.”

 Tim, who had wanted that last slice of pizza, thank you very much, rolled his eyes and said, “Well, then I’m picking the pizza toppings next time. Maybe then we won’t have a pizza that only tastes like jalapeños.”

 “Oh, absolutely not. Last time you put pineapple and pepperoni on it, which is grounds for termination from topping-decisions for life.” Danny paused, and then he took his eyes away from the television, looked at Tim, and said, with distinctly less casualness, “I meant the movie. Um. The romance part, specifically.” Then, with a disarming smile: “I’ve got the comedy more than covered, after all. I told you I got that wedding gig, right? Maybe I can try some of my jokes on you.”

 Danny opened his mouth again, clearly ready to launch into a demonstration of his latest vocational pursuit, but Tim’s brain had finally parsed Danny’s words enough to say, maybe a bit too abruptly, “Hold on, hold on. Let’s go back to the romance bit, yeah?”

 He really, really hoped the statement had come off less accusatory and more encouraging. It must have worked because Danny’s smile faded into an expression that didn’t look afraid, only nervous. Still, Tim felt the need to add, with the edges of his words sanded down into something softer, “Obviously, you don’t have to tell me anything you aren’t comfortable with. But I’m all ears.”

 “Mm, they are pretty big,” Danny quipped. “Only going to get bigger, too.”

 Tim just sat back on the couch, crossed his arms, and waited. The credits on the screen continued to roll, the peppy pop music that accompanied them disrupting what might have, in any other situation, been an awkward silence. It still felt like an awkward something.

 Then, Danny sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, worried it for a few seconds, and said, “Okay, so- you remember telling me about when you figured out you were ace, right?”

 “Right,” Tim said.

 “Right,” Danny echoed. He fiddled with the silver ring on his left thumb absently, like he always did when he was nervous or when he had a million things racing through his head and he was trying to decide which thread to pull that would make them all come together into a neatly-stitched pattern. “Well, I guess all the stuff you said about liking sex but not wanting it with anyone in particular got me thinking about things that I like. And, uh. Things that I don’t.”

 There was another pause. The television screen had gone dark and the silence that stretched over them didn’t feel awkward anymore. Just heavy. Danny gave the ring on his finger another twist and said, “It had never really occurred to me that I could like to do something but not with anyone in particular, you know? Like- okay, so I enjoy flirting. I think all those stupid, cheesy pickup lines are hilarious, and seeing how people react to them is really fun. I mean, sometimes people laugh, sometimes people get annoyed, and sometimes people blush. But I never want anything out of it, you know?”

 Danny stared at the blank screen; the profile of his face showed a smile, but the lines of his forehead and the creases around his eyes were tight. Wordlessly, Tim moved closer so that his shoulder pressed against Danny’s, light enough that it wasn’t oppressive but a grounding presence all the same. From the way that Danny relaxed slightly at the touch, Tim decided that it was a good move.

 “One time, actually, someone offered to buy me a drink. You would have liked him, Tim—he had this really strong jawline, little bit of a five o’clock shadow, bright red hair. So I got the drink, and we talked, and even though he was funny and I had to stop sipping my drink because I kept choking on it when he would tell another joke, I just had this itching underneath my skin, like I just couldn’t get comfortable. But,” Danny said with a tight smile, “I ignored it. I told myself, You flirted with him first, Danny Stoker, and this is what happens when you flirt with people. Sometimes, they flirt back. So I had my drink. And then another, you know, because drinks are like potato chips, you can’t have just one.

 “He didn’t ask me to- to come back to his place or whatever, which was- god, I don’t know what I would have done.” Danny bit his lip, leaned more heavily into Tim’s shoulder. “Probably would have said yes? And I don’t need you to tell me that that would have been stupid. I know.

 “Instead, he gave me his number on one of those fancy business cards—I don’t really remember for what company, I threw it away as soon as I got home—and told me to call him. And I knew, as soon as he said that, that I wasn’t going to. That it- it wasn’t fun anymore, because there was this expectation to deliver.” Danny’s forehead creased, and he shook his head slowly. “No, that’s- that’s not quite right. An expectation to reciprocate, maybe?

 “The thing is, the idea of romance and dating and all of that sounds interesting in theory, and sometimes I can even imagine myself doing it—albeit not with anyone in particular, just like as a thought exercise I guess. I tried, a few times, to put a specific face to whoever I was going on lovely Italian wine tours with or- or hand-feeding grapes to on a bed on some island. Tim, don’t make that face, wine tours and grape feeding are peak romance. Uh, I think.

 “Anyway, anytime I tried to imagine dating someone instead of just dating, I got that same itching feeling under my skin. And I thought, well, I’m just not picking the right people. It’s got to be someone I really like, you know, someone I care about. Clearly, red-haired guy had not been the one.

 “And then… I found someone. Her name was Ash and she was just everything I ever could have wanted. She was funny and brave and did this little thing with her nose when she laughed that made me laugh, and she was a much better rock climber than me but I was better at rappelling because she could never trust herself to lean back unless someone guided her down, and I really, really thought that it could be her, you know? I knew that I loved her, and even though most of my standard lines bounced right off her, a few stuck. If I tried, really tried, I even thought I could picture it: every single corny, cheesy date I’d ever imagined, with her face cut and pasted into the image. It was a bit like a bad Photoshop edit, you know, where the edges clearly didn’t fit? But I ignored it because it fit well enough, and she made me happy.”

 Danny took a long breath and let it out just as slowly. Tim thought of a million things to say, a million reassurances, that he eventually let sink to the back of his mind and dissipate. Instead, he fought back against the instinct to break the silence with a laugh or a word or just a noise and instead leaned further back against the couch. Patience was not his strong suit, but he could do it for Danny.

 Finally, Danny continued, “And then one day, she… she asked me out. I guess I must have looked pretty shocked because she laughed and said that she’d been flirting with me for weeks, just like I’d been with her, and so there was no need to look so surprised. The thing is, I hadn’t even noticed. Every time she’d made some joke and I’d laughed, I’d thought that was just normal. Being friends, you know? Maybe that’s stupid, given that I’d been flirting with her too. Maybe not. I don’t know.

 “I said yes. And spent the next four days regretting it. I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. We were planning on going out to dinner that Friday, and the entire night before I got maybe an hour of sleep? I just kept thinking, you know, is she going to want to hold hands? Is she going to want to kiss me? Is she going to want to do more than kiss? What about other things, the wine and the grapes and rings and weddings and kids and—”

 Danny cut off with a sigh, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Yeah, so I called her an hour before I was supposed to meet her at the restaurant and said that something had come up and I couldn’t make it. Which was a lie of course, and I’m pretty sure she could tell because instead of asking what was wrong or what had come up, she just said okay. In a voice that sounded like it very much wasn’t okay. And when she hung up, I realized we hadn’t scheduled a new date. And it filled me with so much relief that I just felt guilty, because I still loved her, you know? And I just couldn’t understand what I was doing wrong, why I liked to flirt but felt so uncomfortable when it actually worked, why the idea of dating didn’t bother me until it became a reality, why every single ‘crush’ I had just felt so forced even if I cared about the person so much it hurt.

 “And then you told me that you were ace, and you talked about how it felt to be ace, and I just couldn’t stop thinking about Ash. I didn’t think that your situation was the same as mine, but it just—it felt close? So I finally thought to look up how I felt. And I’m still not one-hundred percent sure what label fits or whatever, but just knowing that there’s labels at all, that there are people out there who feel the way that I feel and that I’m not just- just doing it wrong—god, it was just this huge weight lifted off my shoulders.”

 Danny laughed, a bit harshly, born more of a release of nerves than of humor. “Is it a bit weird that I still really like to flirt? Maybe I should give a disclaimer before every pickup line: Hello, I’m Danny Stoker, I’m some flavor of aromantic and asexual, this flirting is purely platonic. Hmm, that’s a bit wordy.”

 Then, a smile cracked Danny’s face in two, tinged with more than a hint of devilish teasing. “Maybe I’ll make a business card.”

 Finally, Tim broke his vow of silence with a snort. He nudged Danny’s side with his elbow and said, “It can be a family venture. Stoker and Stoker, aspec brothers in crime.”

 Danny’s smile softened into something subtler, and he said, with an unusual amount of sincerity in his voice, “Thanks, Tim. I… I mean, I didn’t think you would react badly, but still. Thanks.”

 And Tim’s heart broke just a little, and he pulled Danny to his side and wrapped his arms around him tightly. “Never,” he said firmly. “I’m really glad you told me, Danny. Really, really glad.”

 So yeah. Tim can’t mess this gift up, because Danny had trusted him with this part of himself, and Tim really, really wants to support him in every possible way. Even if that way involves cheesy novelty mugs striped with the colors of the aromantic flag.

 Ugh.

 Tim grabs his distinctly not cheesy plain black mug of coffee and makes his way back to his desk, entirely absorbed in a swirling mess of thoughts filled with blacks and greens and whites and purples. Which is why he doesn’t notice Sasha sitting at his desk until he nearly sits on top of her.

 “Christ,” Tim says, jumping back so quickly he nearly spills his coffee. Sasha barely acknowledges him; she’s too busy typing away at something on his computer, and when Tim looks over her shoulder, he realizes with a sickening horror that she’s closed all but a few tabs on his computer. Tabs that he’d carefully curated. Tabs that he needs.

 (Tabs full of indecision and terrible, terrible ideas. But he needs them all the same.)

 “I hope,” Tim says with a voice that’s only slightly on the saner side of panic, “that there’s a perfectly good reason why you’ve thrown a wrench the size of a small house into my gift planning process? Because otherwise, I am three seconds away from freaking out.”

 Sasha waves a hand at him, still not looking away from the screen. “All your gifts suck, Tim.”

 “Hey!”

 This time, Sasha does look at him, something apologetic in her eyes. “Sorry. But they do.”

 Sullenly, Tim says, “Danny doesn’t think my gifts suck.”

 Sasha sighs and turns back to the computer. “Danny loves you a lot more than he loves your gifts. But that’s not the point.” She types something on the keyboard, navigates through a few windows without even taking the time to look at their contents. “You’ve been scowling at your screen all day, Tim. And I know it’s not because of that Remmier case that Jon assigned because I finished that yesterday.”

 “Oh. Thank you?”

 “Yup. You owe me coffee.” Sasha types a few more things, squints at the screen, then makes a noise of triumph. “There. Get him that and thank me later.”

 Then, Sasha’s out of his chair and back at her own desk, leaving behind only a warmth that Tim can feel as he takes his own seat and finally gets a good look at what’s on the screen.

 Huh.

 Tim orders it. And a few days before Danny’s birthday, he has an idea. Maybe the only good gift-giving idea he’s ever had.

 So the next time he’s at the shop, he picks up some supplies. And for someone who majored in anthropology and doesn’t know the first thing about graphic design, he’s quite happy with the final product.

 And when Danny unwraps the box on his birthday, sat on Tim’s couch with empty boxes of Thai takeout in front of them, the first thing he sees are the cards, set right on the top. It’s a silly little design, a set of two mountains striped with the aromantic and asexual colors, and next to them:

 Stoker & Stoker, Inc.

Aspec brothers in crime

Where the flirting is platonic, NOT erotic!

 Underneath the cards, there’s a new climbing rope, striped with greens and whites and greys and blacks, and a matching set of metallic purple carabiners, something that Tim absolutely never would have thought of but that’s perfect nonetheless. Danny takes a card in one hand, runs the thumb of the other over the edge of the climbing rope, and looks at Tim.

 And Tim thinks he gets it, then. Why people put so much time and effort into giving people thoughtful, meaningful gifts. Because Danny’s expression isn’t fucking with him or relieving the pressure or just being nice or even this was what I’d always wanted. It’s something truer, something softer, something that sits in the pit of Tim’s stomach and burns softly, warming him gently from the inside out

 Yeah, Tim’s never going to be able to go back to generic gifts after this. He’s going to need a much larger coffee budget.

 (This conviction lasts, at least, until later in the evening, when Tim confesses that Sasha helped him with the gift and Danny laughs and says I figured, before saying in a quieter voice that the climbing equipment is great but the cards were Tim. That the black socks and novelty mugs and vanilla candles were generic but that they were Tim as well and that Danny had made it a game to try and guess what Tim was going to get him that year, keeping a bet with Sasha on how long it would take Tim to accidentally give him the same gift twice.

 Hey, Tim says, but his mouth is twisted into a smile. He ruffles Danny’s hair in that way he hates and says that he’ll stick to the basics from now on, then, and they put on some shitty comedy that Danny insists on watching and eat ice cream until their stomachs hurt.

 And if Tim sees Danny glancing at the business card every so often, wearing a smile so soft it’s almost melting, he certainly isn’t going to mention it.)

[banashee]

It's midnight where I am, which means it's technically the 21st already 😁 Hi Folks, welcome to my fourth fic for the Archival Pride 2021 project! Look at their tumblr for more info :)

@archivalpride

   Archival Pride 2021, Week four (June 21-28) Prompts: comfort, childhood, research, missing scene, statement

   The key words I've used here are comfort, research (and arguably missing scene depending how you look at it)

So, this wasn't supposed to get nearly as long as it ended up being. But I enjoyed wirting this a ridiculous amount, and I hope you can find a bit of joy, comfort or anything else you're seeking as well.

-

Please mind the tags and content warnings for this one! It’s quite a bit heavier than my other entries for the Archival Pride 2021.

Content warnings: - Trauma, Grief - PTSD / Panic attacks - violent canon death of a sibling - coping - Nightmares - Canon-typical violence - Canon-typical Clowns / The Stranger - Death of a loved one - Canon-typical violence and thoughts of violence - Past underage kissing between consenting teenagers (nothing graphic and very PG) - breif internalized Bi-Phobia in the past - brief mention of past Ace-Phobia - strong language - TMA season 3 spoilers, even though this story is set pre-canon.

-

 Whispers in the Dark

 The first time Tim meets Jonathan Sims is when he sets down a small cardboard box and a stack of files onto a desk. More precisely, his own new place at the desk he just got assigned.

 Tim just started out with his new job and he smiles, even though he is barely holding himself together at this point. He hopes no one will ask too many questions - it’s not like he plans on telling anyone what made him seek out the institute in the first place. It’s way too personal, and way too much to handle.

 So he’d lied in the job interview, spun some story about wanting a new challenge. Mr. Bouchard didn’t question it, and Tim would like to think that is because his CV and education are rather high quality, which he isn’t shy about. Not at all - he is proud of his achievements, and rightfully so. But Tim can’t shake the feeling that his new employer had looked at him oddly, like he knows something that no one else does. It had been deeply unsettling, and if Tim thinks too much about it, it causes the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up straight.

 Despite his gut feeling telling him something else, Tim decides to chalk it up to nerves and his… Current situation, so to say. He is more jumpy, more paranoid than he used to be, which isn’t surprising. He has seen things, lived through things that he wouldn’t know how to explain if anyone asked. But overthinking it won’t get him anywhere.

 So, he puts on a bit of the show, something that looks like his usual happy-go-lucky personality. Loud, brash, flirty and wicked smart, just like he always has been. It feels incredibly fake to him, but then again, no one here knows him. No one has ever met him before… Before. They don’t know.      They don’t know    . None of them ever sees him when the mask falls, home alone, in a house that feels too big and too empty with Dany gone and - no.

     “Don’t go there, Stoker, just don’t. Get through the day, see what you can find out and go home. Get back tomorrow, rinse and repeat. You can do this.”     he tells himself and plasters on a smile that almost hurts.

 As he sets down the box and his files, he greets his new coworker and desk-neighbor.

 “Hi, I’m Tim, nice to meet you!” (      “be happy, sound happy, god dammit”     he thinks, then reminds himself that this guy won’t know the difference.)

 The man on the desk opposite of him looks up from his computer which he’d previously looked at with intense concentration. It seems to take him a moment to catch up, then he nods and there is the hint of a very small smile on his face.

 “Oh, erm, hi. Welcome.” he says, like someone who isn’t used to interacting with too many people. And maybe he isn’t - Tim wouldn’t know. He almost moves on and accepts that he won’t get a name from his new desk neighbor, but then he hears him say,

 “Jonathan. Jon is fine, too.”

 And then, as if he never said anything, he focuses back onto the screen in front of him and starts typing furiously.

 “Thanks!” Tim says, probably just a tad too loud and too enthusiastically, but he doesn’t get a response this time. Okay, awkward. He isn’t sure if Jon is ignoring him or if he just doesn’t realize that he is being talked to - judging from the very brief, first impression of him that Tim got, both options might be entirely possible.

 As the days go by, they don’t interact a lot besides basic politeness and the occasional question or comment about something work related.

 The first time Tim ever really talks to Jon, is when he witnesses the man climb a bookshelf in the library like a fucking tree. No kidding. Tim blinks, and for the first time in a long while, he feels a real, genuine laugh bubble up in his chest. What the hell? He steps closer, next to the large, antique bookshelf that his coworker is currently clinging to, pulling books from a shelf that is over his head still.

 “Jon, hi.” Tim says, watching the scene in front of him unfold. This is not something he expected, least of all from the coworker who never seems to say or do anything mildly interesting. So much for the first impression - the second impression is something entirely different, and it is this very moment that Tim decides that he likes the guy.

 The sound of Tim’s voice addressing him directly makes Jon turn his head.

 “Hi. Can I help you?” he asks, brusk and matter of fact, as if there wasn’t anything odd about this situation.

 “...I was going to ask you the same?” Tim offers, mildly amused as he finds himself kind of impressed when Jon manages to shrug with his hands full like that. While clinging to the shelf, because what even?

 “No. Why? I’ve already got what I need.” Jon jumps down from the wooden board he’d been standing on, and it is only now that Tim realizes they’d been on eye level before. Now… Not so much. They never stood next to each other up until this moment, he realizes.

 He’s only been here for about a week, but whenever Tim arrives at the office, Jon is already there, at his desk and working. He never gets up for lunch, only ever seems to leave the room to pick up or drop off books from the library, and by the time everyone else has left, Jon remains seated at his desk. If he wasn’t changing out his clothes, Tim would have been convinced that Jonatahn Sims simply plugs himself into a wall socket to recharge for the next day. Or maybe sleeps under his desk or something.

 “Just… You know what, nevermind.” Tim has come to the very correct conclusion that he better just accept this as it is. It seems easier. Much, much easier than arguing with someone over nothing, even though Tim feels like punching a wall or two some days. But that is not his coworkers fault, and he doesn’t want to mess up the chance to get to know him because he is cute.

 Tim doesn’t even question this train of thought anymore.

 At some point in between meeting the man for the very first time and… well, this, he must have filed away the odd combination of grandfather cardigans, chipped dark nailpolish and neatly tied up hair, combined with that deep warm voice and decided that yes, this person is attractive.

 To be fair, it doesn’t take Tim long to fall for people - it never has. He just didn’t expect to spend any time really      looking     at someone, now that his life has gone sideways in so many horrible ways.

 Turns out he’d been wrong.

 Finding something attractive about a person, no matter their gender or any physical attributes, is the easiest thing in the world to Tim. Ever since he can remember, he has enjoyed looking at people. Tim likes soft curves just as well as sharp angles, and has spent many many hours of his life getting lost in people's eyes. Sometimes, he’d caught himself staring when talking to a friend, losing himself in the depth of warm brown eyes with specks of gold, watery blue, light grey or green with specs of hazel and anything in between.

 Tim vividly remembers a game of spin the bottle when he was a teenager and sat on the floor with a group of friends and classmates. Of course, there had been many dares to kiss someone, and he had happily taken them whenever possible.

 At the time, Tim wasn’t sure about himself at all, because he’d only known that he finds people attractive, but all everyone around him had talked about was if you were gay or straight, if the question was even asked. Mostly, they just assumed whatever seemed convenient at the time.

 No one tells Tim about the meaning of the word “Bisexual”, or even about the word itself until he is in college. But he knows how he feels, even though he is lacking the word for it for many years

 Once he finds out, Danny is the first person he tells about it. Tim calls him that same night, sitting in a quiet corner of the dorm as he excitedly tells his little brother that he found a word to relate to himself and his feelings for other people.

 “There are other people who feel that way, Danny. There is nothing wrong with me and there is a word for it!” he tells him in a hushed but excited voice, fumbling on a loose thread in a hole of his jeans. Those trousers have long been frayed into shreds but Tim refuses to part with them.

 His voice is shaking with excitement, and he may or may not be holding back happy tears. This is a big moment for him, and because Danny is literally the best - not just because he answered his phone at fuck-o-clock in the morning when his brother called - he reacts with nothing but support.

 “I might have a few questions, but I love you. No matter what. I’m happy for you.” he tells him, and in that moment, Tim couldn’t be happier or prouder of his younger brother.

 The game of spin the bottle a few years earlier was the one of the first things that taught Tim that he finds many many things to be interested in and attracted to. It taught him that he is attracted to the many different ways people feel, and it hasn’t changed ever since.

 Over the years, Tim finds himself falling in love quick and hard with a number of people, and none of them are ever the same. Each and every person is unique, in their looks and size and voice and feelings - and every single one is loveable just as they are.

     “You        do         have a thing for certain types of voices though.”    Tim thinks, and maybe that is the culprit here, now that he is standing in the library of the Magnus Institute and faced with Jonathan Sims, who looks up at him with one raised eyebrow. Oh shit, has he been staring the entire time?

 Before Tim can think too much about it, or god forbid, overthink it, he hears his mouth blurt out without his brains permission,

 “So do you want to come to lunch later? There is a café not far from here that I’ve never been to.”

 Jon stares back for a moment, like this isn’t something he expected. Truth be told, he didn’t. But just when Tim starts thinking that he’ll decline, Jon nods slowly.

 “Yes, I suppose. Just… Let me know before you’re going. I tend to, well, I tend to get lost a bit when I’m working and chances are I won’t notice how much time has passed.” he explains, and this is probably the first time he said anything personal besides his name.

 “Sure, no problem. I’ll just put a giant sticky note on your monitor.” Tim offers him with a grin and wink, and as he turns around, he could swear that he catches a real smile on Jon’s face.

 Tim actually does put a note on Jon’s screen though. As he was warned, all attempts to verbally get his attention have failed, so Tim scribbles a quick note for Jon.

 The sticky piece of paper is bright pink and obnoxious, and all that Tim has written on it is “Lunch time!” in big bold letters, accompanied by a smiley face. He manages to walk up behind Jon, stick it right in the middle of his computer monitor and get back around to his own desk to gather his jacket and wallet before Jon squints at it through slim, rectangular glasses and blinks a few times before he remembers the conversation from earlier. Then, there is a small hint of a smile on his face, very similar to the one Tim caught in the library earlier.

 He gathers his things and leaves the office with Tim, and the two of them walk next to each other comfortably as they make their way to the café.

 Surprisingly, the lunch break together isn’t nearly as awkward as it could be, or should have been, really. Jon doesn’t talk much at first, and Tim has a feeling he himself is talking way too much without actually saying anything, just so his brain doesn’t drift off into the wrong direction. But then, it’s like the air has left his lungs and there is a minute or two of slightly awkward silence.

 Then, Jon clears his throat and asks,

 “So, did you know that snails can sleep for three years at a time?”

 When Tim, surprised by the question, shakes his head, Jon starts talking about the topic in great detail as he fiddles with the edge of his napkin the whole time. Somehow, this of all things breaks the ice, and Tim finds himself to be able to breathe a little bit easier.

 Even more so, he is enjoying this. He isn’t sure what he expected when he asked Jon to join him for lunch. Maybe it was just the urge for human interaction and to not be alone, which he supposes is fair enough. But he certainly didn’t expect random information about nature phenomenons. All Tim knows is that he feels better after their first break together, and after that, spending the break together becomes A Thing.

 What he learns pretty fast is this: Jon is an info dumper when he feels comfortable enough to do so. As it turns out, Jon isn’t very picky with his topics, either. They range from science phenomena to weird, interesting nature facts and anything else that catches his interest.

 Tim also learns that, if he is in the right company and being asked the right questions, he can hold monologues that could last for hours. He figures that one out when Jon drops a fun fact about 19th century architecture, and without thinking, picks up the loose end of the sentence and continues,

 “Oh, yes, did you know that…” and thus, without even realizing it, Tim spends the entire lunch break talking about it - he is passionate about the topic, but he leaves out the details about the Covent Garden Theatre. It just hurts too much to think about, but other than that, Tim is excited about the topic. He gets so carried away and rambles on and on and on, he only stops when Jon and him get back to the institute. It takes even longer for Tim to catch up and realize that Jon just paid for both lunches while he went off on a monologue about Robert Smirke architecture. But when he tries to pay him back, Jon just waves him off.

 “Don’t worry about it. Besides, your lecture was very interesting, I didn’t want to interrupt.”

 From anyone else, this might have been a dig - but coming from Jon, Tim knows by now, it is a genuine statement that makes him way happier than it should.

 So, their lunch breaks together quickly turn into a tradition,

 Tim isn’t entirely sure what is more surprising; the fact that he manages to get Jon to actually leave his desk for human needs like food and social interaction, or that the two of them are enjoying it so much.

 Sometimes, they go to cafés or restaurants, trying out places that neither of them has been to before. It turns into them picking favourites, and then they become regulars at a small handful of places. Sometimes they simply go on a quick walk to pick up some food, other times they sit down and enjoy being out of the office for a little bit.

  One day, Tim arrives in the office early, and he brings lunch from home for Jon and himself for the first time.

 Tim has spent the previous night wide awake, unable to rest after a nightmare startled him out of a deep sleep. It takes a long time to get his breathing back under control, and very late at night, or very early in the morning, depending how you look at it, Tim gives up on sleep. After hours of useless tossing and turning, he won’t be able to rest, he knows from experience.

 Cursing under his breath, he pulls aside the covers and takes a few deep, shuddering breaths. Exhausted, both in a physical and emotional sense, he scrubs a hand over his face.

 The memories linger, and Tim feels like his whole chest is pulled together with anxiety and grief. Seven months. That’s how long it has been since he found Danny sitting in his dark living room in the middle of the night, crying silent tears as he had no idea what to do besides be there for him and offer comfort. Seven months since he followed his younger brother to the Royal Opera House Covent Garden and had to watch him being torn apart.

 Carefully, Tim forces himself to keep breathing as evenly as possible. In - hold - out - hold - in - rinse and repeat. His hands are shaking, and he tries to force them into stillness as he grips hard at the rumpled bed sheets.

 Attempting to go back to sleep is useless, he knows from experience, and so he makes his way down into the kitchen.

 This house feels too big, too empty without the presence of his little brother. He left a hole in his life, and even though it’s been months since Danny died, Tim hasn’t moved a single one of his possessions. Not yet - it hurts too much.

 Despite having been alone for a while now, Tim is still careful to leave the lights  out in the hallway, walking as quietly as he can in the middle of the night as if there was still someone around he could wake up with his movements. It’s a long standing habit, and he isn’t sure he’ll ever shake it off.

 It’s only when he arrives in the kitchen that Tim switches on the overhead light. It flickers to life, slowly, and the small kitchen is tinted into a warm light. Warm and homely, like this house once was. Now, it just feels painfully empty.

 With a long sigh, Tim makes his way to the sink and fills up a glass with water - his hands are still shaking and he spills a bit onto himself, but he doesn’t care. Caring about it is too much right now, so he focuses on draining the glass empty before refilling it again. He feels dehydrated, but given the night he’s had so far, it isn’t surprising.

 “I need a distraction.” he mumbles, and soon enough, he’s raided the pantry and his refrigerator. Tim pulls  out some pots and pans from the cupboard, scattering everything throughout his kitchen where it’ll be most convenient. The repetitive tasks of cooking have always had a relaxing effect on him, and soon enough, the room is filled with scents and aromas that make his mouth water. Even now, while he is absolutely miserable.

 The casserole ends up being huge. It’s way too much for one person, even one with an appetite. But cooking for one after being used to there being someone else is hard - kind of useless, while you’re already at it.

 Tim has had that problem ever since he’s been cooking on his own, but knowing that Danny will be back to join him again, freshly back from some cave diving or urban exploration or whatever other strange new hobby he’d found at the time.

 Now, Tim is all on his own. He sighs unhappily. Cooking was a good distraction, up until he is painfully reminded that no one is there anymore to share it with. Not here, at least.

 He allows himself a few minutes of quiet greif, seated at the kitchen table with his head in his hands and a lukewarm cup of tea, sitting on the table by his side, almost forgotten.

 By the time the sun is starting to rise, Tim is up and moving again. He has put the casserole in several plastic boxes and packs two of them into his work bag.

 When he arrives at the office, way earlier than he usually does, because what is the point of staying home doing nothing, Tim places one of the boxes at the edge of Jon’s desk.

 Jon seems to be mildly surprised by the early company, and even more so by the plastic box.

 “Oh, Good morning... What is this?” he asks then, mildly curious.

 “Lunch. I was cooking last night and it was way too much. Thought I’d bring some in to share.” Tim forces a smile along with the half-lie, if only to cover how tired he is. He needs coffee.

 The “Thank you” Tim gets in response is equally surprised and genuine, and he tries very carefully to not interpret too much into it. Especially because their shared meal feels a lot more homely and strangely intimate that day. Getting takeout together or sitting somewhere is one thing, but sharing a home-cooked meal is something entirely different, he finds. He also finds that he doesn’t mind it.

 Only a few days later, conveniently when every last bit of the casserole is gone, Tim finds a plastic box that isn’t one of his own sitting on his desk. Curiously, he opens it and finds it filled to the brim with homemade curry, rice and veggies. Even cold, it smells heavenly and makes his mouth water. Tim looks over to the desk opposite of him, where Jon is already typing away like he usually does, but when he looks up and finds Tim smiling brightly at him, he smiles back.

 Something in his chest feels incredibly warm and fluttering.

 One evening, when the two of them get out of the office equally late - Jon because he always does, and Tim because he may or may not have waited for him - they walk to the tube together.

 In a spontanous fit of bravery and “Oh well, fuck it”, Tim carefully rechaes out until his own fingers gently brush against Jon’s as they walk. It’s dark outside, only illuminated by the countless lights that illuminate the shops and pubs and the sides of the street they’re walking along. Tim does so casually and carefully enough to be ignored or taken as a coincidence if needed be, just in case. But then his heart almost stops for a second when after a moment of stiffness, Jon accepts the offer and closes his own fingers around Tim’s.

 His touch is light at first, but then his grip tightens a bit, warm and comfortably so, and it is clear that his heart is in it. Of course it is - the two of them have gotten close in the last few weeks and months. There might have been some wishful thinking on Tim’s end involved - Jon is not always great at picking up social cues, especially romantic ones.

 “That’s fine though” he tells him later, “You’re a huge enough flirt to make it up for the both of us.”

 Jon squeezes his hand, and Tim happily squeezes back as he keeps walking beside him, just a little bit closer than before.

 He can’t help but smile. Something like happiness blooms in his chest, and even though they don’t talk about it the entire way, even though they keep holding hands when they sit next to each other in the tube, they remain this close all the way until their ways separate and they have to get onto a different line each. It feels right, and the sudden loss of touch as their ways separate makes Tim wish it could last - but turning back and running after the other train seems kind of silly now, especially since he’ll see Jon again the very next day.

 This becomes A Thing as well. Touching, that is.

 Holding hands, brushing along each other when they reach for folders or mugs or books in the library. Speaking of which, Tim has learned very quickly that there is      no     way to stop Jon from literally climbing high spaces to reach whatever he needs. As of now, he is long used to watching him scale a bookshelf or kitchen counter, much to his own amusement.

 “Hold on tight, little monkey.” he tells him as he walks past, grinning from ear to ear, knowing full well that he can’t expect more than a scoff and,

 “Oh, shut up.” as a response.

 Tim keeps it up though - because it’s fun and he knows he’s allowed to get away with it. Which can’t be said for anyone else in the institute, not like anyone would have tried as far as he knows. But he is ridiculously proud of it nonetheless. Tim is still cackling to himself when he wraps an arm around the other man’s shoulders and keeps chatting away to him all the way back into the research offices.

 He has always been very openly affectionate, with family, friends and romantic partners or those he’d fancied. It’s part of who he is, and if he is honest with himself, it feels good to have some part of him back that’s always been there. It helps a bit, and even more so since Jon not only happily lets him, he also leans back into the touch. Jon’s attempts at seeking out touch are a lot more subtle than Tim’s, at least at first, but he knows and recognizes it for the sign of trust and comfort that it is.

 That afternoon, there isn’t much time to chat at their desks, but about an hour before they’re supposed to get off, a balled up piece of paper hits Tim’s hand, clearly coming from Jon, but the sneaky bastard isn’t giving indication that he stopped reading at all.

 With a small smile, Tim opens the note. It’s not like Mr.   Workaholic to pass notes on the clock, but then again, he has to give Jon credit for loosening up significantly since the day they met. Or, maybe warmed up to human company is more like it. (He very carefully tries not to think, or more like hope, that it's him in particular Jon has warmed up to so much. But then again, Tim has heard some of their coworkers whisper in astonishment that it’s completely unheard of that Jonathan Sims leaves his desk for breaks or in time in the evenings, let alone interacting with other human beings more than absolutely necessary. Tim also caught the rumors about the two of them being a couple - he’d almost laughed then. He fucking      wishes    .)

 Tim unfolds the note and reads;

     “I have a lot of leftover curry I made last night. Would you like to come over for dinner after work? - J.”  

 This has become A Thing, too. Sharing meals after work and sometimes on the weekends. It alternates where they go, but especially lately, they have preferred to go to either Tim’s house or Jon’s apartment instead of a restaurant. For one, going out to eat on a regular basis is expensive, but also, cooking together or eating the leftovers from a late night cooking binge is a lot more comfortable and homely.

 Sharing a meal and oftentimes a couch with someone fills at least part of the void that Tim finds inside of himself. He is struggling still, but having another human being in his personal space, warm and alive and happy to be there, means the world to him. He’s feeling something again, something that isn’t constant fear or everlasting sadness.

 They watch movies sometimes - it’s not exactly easy to find something that both of them       like    . Their tastes in movies are widely different from each other, so instead, they opt to choose obscure sci-fi movies or anything they can pick apart and make fun of. No horror - they haven’t talked about it, but this is one of the few movie-related things they are in silent agreement over.

 Truth be told, poking fun at bad movies together is much more entertaining than watching anything the normal way.

 They are stuffing their faces with snacks and complain at the protagonists for making very unwise or straight up unrealistic decisions, even in-universe illogical ones. They pick apart plot-points and anything that doesn’t add up  while they share space on the couch, either holding hands or leaning against one another.

 “Oh, of course, give me a break!” Jon grouses as he shakes his hand that is currently holding a few crisps at the TV, annoyed to no end, it seems. In truth, he is      enjoying     this. He enjoys this an awful lot, and so does Tim.

 He laughs out loud and pulls Jon a little closer to his side.

 “Yes, you tell the creepy alien why it’s mere existence even in this fictional universe doesn’t make sense, Love!” He eggs him on, and only realizes the pet name has slipped out of his mouth by the time he notices the deep blush creeping on Jon’s face. Oh shit.

     “Now don’t say anything to fuck this up, for once in you life, just shut up!”    Tim thinks to himself, carefully trying to remain as calm as he can. They’ve been holding hands for ages and they keep cuddling up on the couch - this isn’t anything unexpected, for heaven’s sake. Hell, if Jon were anyone different, they might have ended up in bed already, but Tim is aware that this probably isn’t going to happen anytime soon - or at all, if he isn’t entirely mistaken, based on  the hints and observations. First and foremost the slow and careful way in which their relationship to each other is changing and developing, but then again, he knows what the simple black ring on the middle finger on a person’s right hand usually means.

 Tim doesn’t ask though - he figures that if Jon wants to talk about it, he will do so eventually and at his own pace.

 So, Tim doesn’t push anything and carefully waits for a response. But there isn’t one, or at least nothing verbal. Instead of saying anything, neither to Tim or about the movie, Jon simply scoots a little bit closer to him, leaning against him and doesn’t let go of his hand. Tim takes this as a win and leans his head against the tuft of long black hair that tickles his cheek.

 Both of them relax in an instant, and if they end up falling asleep on the couch, legs a tangled mess and with the TV still on, well, the next morning isn’t nearly as awkward as it might have been once upon a time.

 It takes Tim, way longer than it should to realize that, for the first time in a long while, he didn’t startle awake screaming that night. Company helps. It helps a lot. Just knowing that there is someone else, that he isn’t alone and doesn’t have to wake up to an eerily empty house anymore helps.

 Tim doesn’t fool himself into thinking that everything will magically resolve itself - he knows it won't, especially because his research about the circus isn’t going anywhere yet.

 Sometimes, he feels guilty. Guilty for not spending every waking minute searching for hints, searching for answers to the things that have taken his brother and traumatized him for life. The calmer, logical part of his brain is aware that it doesn’t work like that - he needs a break sometimes, needs the time to himself and spend it with other people…. And goddammit, he deserves to be happy.

 Danny would have kicked his arse if he could hear him think this, would have told him to get a grip and do something that makes him happy. Because this is what scares him sometimes - the happiness, the times where he doesn’t think of the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden or circuses and… Skin. Just the thought alone makes him shudder, but he can’t stop thinking about those memories sometimes.

 “...Are you alright?”

 Tim blinks, not having realized that he must have zoned out. He’s still on the couch, slowly waking up and with Jon tucked somewhere next to him. He doesn’t sound very awake yet, but there is concern in his voice as he fixes Tim with a very direct look.

 “I- yes, just. Zoned out a bit there.” Tim shoots him his best bright smile, hoping he’ll be able to chase away the ghosts. At least for now. He sighs, and happily leans into the touch and hugs back when he can feel a pair of slim arms snaking around his waist. Jon doesn’t say anything, but he seems to pick up that something is bothering Tim. And much like him in emotional situations, Jon doesn’t know what to say. So he remains close and thankfully, this is exactly what Tim needs right now. Just being close to someone he cares a whole lot about, feeling their heartbeat near his own. Being held for a bit. He squeezes Jon in silent gratitude for being there, and hopes he can get across what he can’t say.

 It is Saturday and they have a whole weekend in front of them. After they peel themselves off of the couch, they stumble off to the bathroom after one another and then to the kitchen in an attempt to fuel themselves with tea and breakfast. It’s painfully, beautifully domestic.

 While he is keeping an eye on several pans on the propane stove, Tim is chatting away about something - he isn’t exactly sure himself, except it is something pointless that distracts him from his earlier train of thought. Jon and him are laughing and joking while they drink tea and prepare breakfast together. But after a while it looks like Jon wants to say something, stops himself, and then more of the same all over again.

 Eventually, Tim can’t watch him struggle over it anymore and straight out asks,

 “Hey. What’s going on in that fuzzy head of your’s?”

 It’s true - both of them still have a severe case of bed-heads, and Jon huffs at the question and tries to smooth down a few of the stubborn flyaways around his face. Only very mildly successful.

 “I… Was going to ask something.”

 “Alright? Shoot.” Tim very, very carefully swallows the joke he was about to make in the end - if this is going where he hopes it might, he doesn’t want one god awful pun to be part of the memory of it. So he waits.  

 Jon seems to be bracing himself, and then he turns around to face Tim.

 “I would like to kiss you. Is that okay?” he asks. A simple question, and yet - it means so much. Tim smiles at him, heart beating out of his chest as he steps closer to Jon.

 “Yes, I’d love that.”

 There are only mere inches separating them. Both Jon and Tim cross the last of the distance at once, hands searching for each other. Their fingers are interlacing tightly as soon as they touch, and just a split second later, their lips meet for the first time. There is no rush, nothing in this world that would get them to hurry anything up at this moment. Slowly, they kiss again and again, tasting faintly of the tea they had earlier, but even more so, it feels like comfort. Maybe even a little bit like home.

 A quiet happiness settles deep into them, and something seems to click into place. They are happy, and there is nowhere they’d rather be than anywhere, as long as they can be together.

 After a little while, their hands let go of each other, but only so they can pull one another closer. One of Tim’s hands is cupped around Jon’s cheek, thumb gently stroking over the soft stubble while his other arm remains wrapped around him, hand resting at the small of his back. Jon on the other hand, has to angle his head up a bit due to their height difference, but he doesn’t mind that at all. Both of his arms are wrapped around Tim’s torso, and if it was possible, he would like to remain like this forever.

 Unfortunately for the two of them, life has other plans.

 When the smell of something burning registers with the two of them, they regretfully break apart cursing and laughing as they quickly remove the pans from the heat.

 “That was - good lord, why now of all times?” Breathlessly and more than a little high from happy brain chemicals, they try to get a grip on themselves and on the situation.

 “Just like our luck, isn’t it?” Tim is joking, of course, but still. The timing couldn’t have been worse.

 “This       better     not become a habit.” Jon glares at the charred eggs and smoking pans as if they personally insulted him. He’d been having a good time, but of course something had to happen. Oh well.

 “We’ll just have to make up for it.” Tim winks at him, grinning widely. He doesn’t mean much by it, and he only realizes how that might have come across when Jon awkwardly clears his throat and says,

 “The kissing? Yes, absolutely. Other things… Well, most other things, actually… Not so much. I erm, I should have said that before now, I suppose. But, I’m Asexual.” he chooses his words slowly and deliberately, like he is trying to say them exactly right.

 Tim looks into his eyes, bright green and shining with happiness, but now, there is something else creeping into them. Self-doubt, insecurities - Tim isn’t sure, but he wants to do his best to make the doubts disappear - and apologize for his big mouth.

 “That’s absolutely fine. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that - I wasn’t implying anything else, I promise.”

 Slowly, Jon nods, visibly relaxed now. He asks,

 “So… We’re good?”

 “We are. More than good actually, if you ask me.” Tim finds himself smiling again, which is something he’s been doing so much more lately. Then he tucks away a strand of hair from Jon’s face and kisses him again, just as gentle as before. He is happy to find that he returns the kiss in an instant, pushing close until the two of them end up pressed up against the kitchen table. After they break apart again, they remain standing in an embrace.

 “I like you, Jon. I like you a lot. I love being around you and with you, just for who you are. Yes, I enjoy sex, but I don’t need it. So if you don’t want to, that is okay and it doesn’t make a difference to me. It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

 He nearly says, “I love you” but that might be a little early - saying it too early has ruined his relationships in the past, and although what Jon and he have is something different, Tim doesn’t want to risk it.

 But as it turns out, he said the right thing. Jon looks a lot more relaxed than before, and he keeps a loose hold around Tim’s hips.

 “Thank you, Tim, that’s… Very reassuring actually. I’ve been with people who reacted quite a bit differently to this, so” Jon shrugs, but it is clear that this isn’t a happy memory.

 “I appreciate you.” He adds, and Tim pulls him a little bit closer.

 “I’m sorry. These people fucking suck.”

 “That’s one way to put it, yes.” Jon smiles, and pulls Tim down for another, longer kiss. It feels just as intoxicating as before. Then he tells him,

 “And, just for the record. I like you a lot, and spending time with you makes me very happy.

 The giddy happiness stays with them - being freshly in love and being freshly together is exciting. It is a feeling Tim will never get tired of. The thing is, being together with Jon doesn’t change a whole lot - they are still on opposite desks from each other at work, they still spend their lunch breaks together and Tim actually manages to get Jon to leave the office at 5pm these days,  instead of late at night like he did for the longest time. They still have dinner together most days and they often spend their weekends together. All of these are things they did before, but now, it still feels… Different.

 Then of course, there are the casually affectionate touches throughout the day. They’d like to think that they’re being more discreet here, but then again, at least Tim has never been shy about throwing arms around people or bumping shoulders or anything like that. In fact, people would probably get concerned and suspicious if he stopped doing any of it.

 The point is: they keep it down to normal levels at work, but they seem to be glued together whenever they’re off the clock. Whether they hold hands, hug, kiss, bump shoulders, hips, arms or hands, or sometimes simply nap stacked on top of each other, they are always touching in some way. Both of them soak up the contact like sponges, and they know without having even talked about it in detail that they spent quite a bit of time lonely and touch starved before… This. Their relationship.

 Waking up with one another in the mornings is probably Tim’s favourite part of all. Holding onto each other with their legs tangled together, hands searching for warm skin to rest on and heads pillowed on each other's shoulder or chest. Sharing breaths of air - all of this feels wonderful and intimate in it’s own way, and he can’t get enough of it.

 Waking up in the morning is a peaceful thing. But some nights, unfortunately, are not. Both of them have nightmares on a regular basis. They find that they generally sleep better when they are not alone, and having someone to hold close or bury into when the lingering horrors hit, helps significantly.

 Some nights, it’s Jon who startles awake in the middle of the night, eyes wide and chest heaving as he frantically looks around himself until he realizes where he is, or until Tim wakes up and mumbles quiet reassurances into his hair as he holds him close until the tremors have calmed down.

 If they’re lucky, they manage to fall back asleep after a while, but if not, they simply stay awake, cuddled up under soft blankets and they just talk. Their topics of conversation vary widely, ranging from silly, lighthearted distractions to things they did or experienced in their past, as well as heartfelt conversations that are about much more than just that.

 Tim himself has his fair share of nightmares as well, ever since he lost Danny. And even though having Jon close by and being held at night helps to keep them at bay sometimes, there are still nights where he startles awake either screaming or crying or both.

 The first time it happens, Tim wakes up terrified and tangled in the sheets. His shirt clings to the cold sweat that is running down his back and his breath comes out in irregular, shaky bursts.

     A dimly lit circus arena, old and dusty with centuries of dirt. Tim can’t move. It’s like he is rooted to the spot, and yet, his legs won’t stop shaking. He is shivering from the cold - no surprise, since he ran out in nothing but his pyjamas earlier, and this place is surprisingly freezing for a hot August night. Tim can feel the cold, but more so than anything, he is absolutely terrified.  

     He wants to scream, to run, do anything but stand here - but it’s impossible. The crumpled form of his brother - or the        Thing         that pretends to be Danny - sits motionless and hunched over, no matter how much Tim tries to call out for him. Not a single word leaves his throat, even though his vocal cords hurt from the strain he’s been putting on them. But Danny doesn’t hear him - can’t hear him.  

     From out of the shadows, Tim can see… Something. It looks like a clown, but it’s wrong. Too long, too folded up to be human. It drags itself across the floor slowly and grotesquely, like a creature from a horror movie, up until it stops. Unlike a movie creature though, this is very much reality.  

     Breathing is hard, and Tim wants to force his body to move, but still, there is nothing he can do. Part of him wants to believe that this… Place, this        Thing         is influencing his ability to move somehow, but then again, he might just as well be paralyzed by fear.  

     The clown moves forward, right towards Danny. As it unfurls itself, it is clear that there are smears of blood all over its face, red and bold and dripping wet.  

     “Shall I?” it asks, with a voice that is playful in the worst possible way. Too happy, and way too sinister. Tim can’t even answer, still unable to talk or move or do anything, but he can feel the bile rise in his throat. He wants to grab Danny and run, but knows he can’t. He wants to scream, cry or throw up, anything but watch the scene unfolding in front of him.  

     None of this happens though.  

     Instead, Tim is forced to stand motionless and helpless, watching in agony and horror as the clown moves much more quickly than he could have anticipated. It’s not as much that he can actually see the movement, but Tim can feel it. He can feel the breeze of air on his face, and just a split second later, it has removed the entirety of Danny’s skin. His limp, bloody and bare form slumps forward, and it is only then that Tim actually starts screaming.  

         He is screaming his head off,  loud, desperate and terrified. Tim is shaking like a leaf. Breathing is impossible, and it takes him way too long to realize that in order to breathe, he needs to calm down for just a second. It takes even longer for him to realize that he is at home, safely in bed and long out of this situation. But Danny… Danny is just as dead.

 Between ragged, forced breaths, Tim is curling in on himself, unable to register that Jon has woken up and is talking to him in a low, concerned voice. He tries to get his partner to calm down at least a bit, afraid he’ll end up hyperventilating from panic.

 Tim doesn’t register any of it. He can’t make out Jon’s gentle voice trying to bring him back, doesn’t register the light, careful touch on his arm in an attempt to soothe without scaring him further. Tim curls himself into a tight, shaking ball without noticing any of it.

 After the first initial panic, there is a brief moment of silence, but after that, he breaks. Ragged breath turns into uncontrollable, hiccuping sobs and it is only then that Tim realizes the familiar pair of arms slipping around him in a protective embrace. He uncurls just enough to be able to hug back and let Jon slip closer to him, which he does as soon as humanly possible. Tim clings onto him for dear life as Jon curls himself around him in what must be an uncomfortable or at least awkward position, but this is the last thing on his mind.  All Jon cares about right now is making sure that Tim is okay, or at least, as okay as he can be.

 Their bodies are pressed flush together, tightly enough for them to feel each other's rapidly beating hearts hammering out of their chests. Tim tries to focus on that, tries to focus on the carefully even rhythm of breath that Jon attempts to get him to follow.

 His presence is constant, warm and comforting. Tim can feel his weight on top of himself, the hold of his arms around him. Strands of hair and warm breath on his neck are a familiar sensation as well, something he’s been getting used to lately. Even more so, it is something that Tim loves and associates with home by now. And while the fear and pain caused by his nightmare are still very much lingering, he is able to relax in order to calm down eventually. Slowly but surely, a little bit over the course of - he doesn’t even know how long.

 Time has lost all meaning at this point. It might take him minutes or hours to breathe normally again, and at some point, Tim realizes that the steady stream of talking, besides the quiet attempts to comfort and assure him, are actually bits and pieces of random information. Anything to keep talking and keep up a steady presence, Tim supposes, but he is eternally grateful for it. He shifts a bit, arms still wrapped tightly around Jon, although he’s stopped clinging as much by now. He stretches out a little bit without letting go of their embrace - everything hurts from holding himself so tense for so long. Then Tim pulls the both of them onto their side so they can cuddle properly.

 Gentle hands keep running through his messy mop of purple hair, blunt nails scratching against his scalp. Tim leans into it, soaking up the touch like a sponge. He’s stopped shaking now, he notices, and he registers a lot more sensations than he did before.

 Little sounds around the house, wind outside, the occasional car. Most of all, he registers all the different little touches from Jon, and the way he keeps talking to him even now.

 After a while, he leans in to kiss Tim’s forehead, thumbs wiping away a few stray tears. It seems like the worst of the storm is over by now, but Jon stays close. He’s never seen Tim in such a state, and it worries him to no end. At least it looks like he isn’t in severe panic anymore.

 “Do you want to talk?” Jon asks quietly, but all Tim can manage is shake his head. It's not like he      could    talk right now if he tried. He doesn't trust his voice, knowing it will break, which is probably going to set him off again and he's not ready to face that.

 Maybe, a part of him wants to talk about what happened. Sure, it is going to hurt regardless, whenever he decides he is ready for it, but there is no doubt that it will help to get it off of his chest. But Tim doesn’t know how he is supposed to talk about the horrors he's witnessed. Where would he even start? How does he explain all of it without sounding - well.

 “That’s alright.” Jon tightens his hold around Tim as he shifts a little bit, without letting go, so he can rest his head on top of Tim’s. There is a quiet, almost suffocating sadness radiating off of him, and even though he doesn’t know what happened that got him into this state, Jon offers him all the support he can, in any way he knows how. Physical touch seems to help a lot, thankfully. That, he can do forever.

 “I’m here for you. Whatever it is you need, I’m here.”

 The sun is starting to rise on the horizon, but Tim and Jon remain in bed, wrapped up around each other just like before. Birds are starting to sing outside, even before the first rays of the morning sun tint the room into a low light.

 “I love you. I’m here for you, and I love you.”

                             Notes:

[entertainment]

Entertainment Spotlight: Will Vought, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

Actor, comedian, and writer Will Vought stars in the most recent season of the critically acclaimed dramedy series, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. Additional television credits include The Good Wife, The Good Fight, both Lipstick Jungle and Love Bites, Bones, and Wilfred. Will is also an accomplished comedian, having toured the country opening for Wayne Brady. He got his start in the entertainment industry by contributing to Scott Shannon’s #1 morning show on 95.5 WPLJ, offering David Letterman updates and recaps, which opened the door for him to work for Late Night with Conan O’Brien. Following his work with Conan, Will was offered a position in the West Wing of the White House, working for former President Bill Clinton, where he still continued his radio work on the weekends as the youngest morning show host in the country at just 22 years old. Will went on to serve as head writer for Wayne Brady during his time hosting the The Late Late Show prior to James Corden in 2014 on CBS, and he continues to collaborate with renowned actor and comedian Paul Reiser, including shopping a television pilot they wrote together with Julie Bergman. We got the chance to ask him some questions. Check it out:

Do you have a favorite character arc from season 3 of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel?

For Season 3, I’m finding myself really interested in Susie and her journey. I don’t want to spoil it for those getting ready to start the new season or binge the series; however, in the first two seasons, Susie’s been hustling and primarily being of service to Midge while her personal life hangs on by a thread. In season 3, there are so many more layers introduced and opportunities that will ripple into not only her clout as a comedy manager but also her personal life. Also, I’m really invested in Lenny Bruce. Having read so much about him to see his plight on screen told through Amy’s lens is incredible. I don’t know anyone in comedy that doesn’t appreciate what Lenny Bruce did for comedians. The end of the Season 3 premiere is absolutely priceless seen thought the eyes of Tony Shalhoub’s Emmy Award-winning performance as Abe Weissman - Midge’s father.

If everything that you did was narrated, whose voice would you want narrating your life?

HA! That is a great question, and I’ve had to think about it. At first, I thought of the late great voice-over artist Don LaFontaine who moviegoers would remember as the “In A World…” guy who made millions voicing almost every movie trailer ever! BUT…truth be told I think that I would love Seinfeld's voice and lens, and I think it would make my day to day activities far more entertaining to listen to, especially when on the phone with my therapist.  

Can you tell us about a time you bombed (on stage or in an audition)?

Well…the thing that pops to mind was an audition for NBC’s series called Lipstick Jungle. At the time, I was living on Long Island and decided to make the mistake of driving into Manhattan for the audition. Traffic was abhorrent, and you would think that there were mass casualties on the Long Island Expressway resulting in me being almost an hour and forty-five minutes late for the audition. The director of that episode was the one and only Timothy Busfield, whom I loved on Arron Sorkin’s The West Wing. Tim played reporter Danny Concannon - Senior White House Correspondent.

I had no idea that Timothy was going to be at the audition and was mortified when I showed up and saw him in the room because I was so late. It’s not unheard of to not be seen at all if you are late, let alone hours late. I read for the part and left. Tim was gracious. A month later, I got a call saying that I didn’t book that role; however, they were writing me another role and wanted to hire me for it. While on set shooting, Tim told me that when they asked him if he had any ideas for the part and he said, “That guy who came in 2 hours late. He was great. Hire him.” So I thought I bombed — but it worked out in the end.

The USO Tour scene from The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel broke the record for the most number of background actors used in a scene for tv in the state of New York (850). What was it like being a part of such a huge production?

I’ve never worked on Star Wars, but that’s what I was thinking of when we were filming that. It was by far the largest set I’ve ever been on, and yes there were almost 1000 background actors there for almost an entire week, who made up the audience of the USO show that you see in the season 3 premiere. When I met with Amy and Dan for the final audition for the role of Major Buck Brilstein, it was at Steiner Studios in Brooklyn in a small room that’s not much larger than a small studio apartment in Manhattan. It was the three of us and Emmy award-winning casting director Cindy Tolan. We did all the material from the episode, and to juxtapose that to being in an actual hanger with 1000 extras essentially filming a USO show that’s scripted — it was a historic moment in television that wasn’t lost on me.  

What was the audition experience like for your role on The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel?  

I kind of talk about that above. I had a great experience. As with anything, you have to go in a number of times, and then the final callback is with Amy and Dan Sherman Palladino. You are 2 feet away from her, there is a camera, and Cindy Tolan, the casting director, and you create the world and do the scenes — WORD PERFECT! That is a huge thing, and something I was told going in. Be word perfect every time. Their words are like notes on a page. Each one carefully picked and placed, and my job is to take them off the page and bring them to life with a sensibility of 1959 and a guy that’s a major in the army who always wanted to be a comedian but never really got the chance. So, my character is literally living his dream in this episode. Beyond that, you bring your A-game, nail it, and it’s up to Amy and Dan. It happened to go my way, and as I told Amy, I was grateful to get the invitation to play in her world. She wrote and directed this episode, so it was extra special.

Is there a specific role or moment that you feel has defined your career up to this point?

We’ll — this is pretty significant re: working with the Palladino’s.  I thought that The Good Wife was a big deal at the time — as I was part of Bob and Michelle King’s storyline that revealed Josh Charles’ character was murdered.  

It seems that I’m only allowed to act opposite actresses that have won 2 Emmy’s and 2 Golden Globes for Best Actress. LOL.  It’s truly a hard question to answer as each project is different, and as an actor, you hope that one job will open a door or opportunity to another.  That’s what I’ve found, at least over the past few years, so it’s certainly a slow burn.

Years ago, I was the low man on the totem pole at NBC’s Late Night with Conan O’Brien. I was an intern in the writing department under John Groff and often got the chance to appear in sketches on the show. This was an invaluable experience. There was an afternoon where I asked Conan (as I was cleaning his office) if he knew this was what he was going to do from the beginning. I’ll never forget what he said. He told me that, “In his wildest dreams he never thought he would be hosting a late night show.” He described show business as being on a highway. He was a writer in college, wanted to be a writer and set off on the highway with the goal of writing in mind. Along the trip, there were exits: Mad Magazine, The Simpsons, SNL. After each exit, he gets back on the journey. If you want to be a teacher or doctor or lawyer, you know exactly what to do. Go to X school for X years, and then they declare you as such. Boom. You’re it. Hollywood is not like that. Everyone’s path is so different, and how we get to where we are is almost inconsequential when compared to the culmination of the journey. I’ve been blessed to do a lot of different things so far and work with incredible talent that truly moves the needle in this business, and I hope for more opportunities.

What’s your favorite bit or joke from one of your stand-up sets?

I have a new bit I’m working on that’s fueled by my natural anger toward this situation.

I hate paper straws.

If this makes me a horrible person, so be it. If “they” think I don’t care about the EARTH or ENVIRONMENT and support the extinction of humanity because of this — so be it.

Paper straws? Really? Who did this make sense to? Who thought it was a good idea to combine PAPER and WATER?

I’m sure it seemed like a good idea at the time — but it doesn’t work. Three sips into my iced coffee and the thing has disintegrated, and I’m now drinking iced coffee and paper!

If you think paper straws are a good idea, let me ask you one question. Would you like to use a paper condom?

In the future, you’ll be standing in the rain telling your friend you can’t understand why she’s pregnant and soaking wet from holding the paper umbrella.

I will say that if we do switch to paper condoms …. I don’t know about the environment, but we will absolutely ensure the survival of humanity.

Lighting round! Describe each of the following in one word: Who you are, what you value the most, and what you’d be if you were a food item.  

I AM WILL VOUGHT.

I VALUE MOST: MY SON.

IF I WAS A FOOD ITEM, I’D BE A BEYOND BURGER!

What are you working on right now?

Right now, I’m working on sending out subliminal messages via Transcendental Meditation to Adam McKay for a coffee meeting that would result in being cast on the 3rd season of Succession on HBO.  I’d text him, but I don’t have his cell. Do you?

Thanks for taking the time, Will! Catch Season 3 of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel on Prime Video. 

Photography: Emily Assiran | Grooming Laila Hayani | Styling: Natalia Zemliakova

[actordougjones]

Helen Chavez 1959 ~ 2020

Sitting in silent conflict today, some numbness, many tears, grief, and the happiest memories that make my heart smile. To lose a close friend (whom I referred to as my big sister for the last 16 years) to complications from covid-19 and other health issues, is a blow I could not be prepared for. Yet to sit with my memories of her is a relished joy.

Many knew her as “Hellmistress” on the Sony Pictures Hellboy message boards in 2003. As I was an occasional visitor in those boards while filming Hellboy, I took special note of the witty, gentle, sarcastic, encouraging posts from this woman I found myself wanting to know more of.

She made her way into those message boards by way of her love for Ron Perlman, as she also was a contributing writer for a site called ThePerlmanPages dot com. But once in there, and once we got to interacting, Helen and I both found kindred spirits in each other, about the same age, about the same irreverent sense of humor.

She jokingly described herself as “windswept and interesting.” When we finally met in person the first time around the premiere events Guillermo del Toro had arranged for these fans of Hellboy in April 2004, I found this description of her to be true.  All I had to hear was that Helen had sold a cow to finance her flight from Scotland, and I knew I was right about this one!  Yes, she and her husband Mark raised cattle on their rural farm outside Aberdeenshire, Scotland.  But she was also a highly knowledgeable archivist at the local museum there.  With a thirst for learning, and a lover of history, artifacts, classic film, TV, music, literature, science fiction, and all things geekery, she did indeed earn her “windswept and interesting” title.

(Our first in-person meeting after “Hellebration” 2004 with Sony Pictures Hellboy message board regulars, Left to Right: Maurice Mpayamaguru, Dougie, Pat Paone, Helen Chavez - who was so excited to be having a burger with American ketchup!)

She flew away the next day in 2004, but that would not be the last of this Helen. Upon returning home to Scotland, her friend and ThePerlmanPages creator Pat Paone (who had also been on this trip) said something to Helen that lingered in the air... “After this entire ‘Hellebration’ weekend in Los Angeles, do you realize you haven’t stopped talking about Doug Jones?” which struck Helen odd since she was a devout Perlman fan who was gushing about someone other than Ron after a weekend to celebrate a movie in which Ron held the title character.

That’s when I received an email from Helen proposing an official website she wanted to create for me. So was born TheDougJonesExperience dot com, a site that was lovingly poured over and updated by Helen as her pet project that she never let me pay a dime for, no matter how I tried, from 2004 to 2014, when her own life required her to take pause. That pause from the site included finishing up her Masters Degree, still working full time at the museum, still tending the cattle, and now caregiving to her husband’s failing health ... followed by her own health issues.

She was ever the stoic type, though, who never ever, EVER wanted to be a burden on me, so I would rarely hear of her trials in life unless I told her, “I’m not hanging up until you start talking.”  She would always brush off her own issues and turn things back around to doting on me like the protective big sister she loved being.  She also took in Mrs. Laurie as her little sister with great pride.

To sum up the amount of life shared with this incredible woman would take volumes.  Volumes that could be tied together with one thread.... “cheerleader.” She championed me personally and professionally with the kind of care and tireless energy that gave my own mother and Mrs. Laurie a run for their money!

Her cheerleading came in the form of not only that exhaustive website with endless fan correspondence as she wrote with a voice that was uncannily like my own, then later helping administrate “The Tank” forum on DelToroFilms dot com where “FanSapiens” would gather to chat about little ol’ me, but also trips to see me when I was in the United Kingdom for a fan convention in Birmingham, or a make-up trade show in London.  She also ingratiated herself to Guillermo del Toro and was invited to visit our Hellboy II: The Golden Army filming set in Budapest with her old friend Pat Paone, spending a large part of that visit with me through my whole day, from make-up, to the Troll Market set, to lunchtime, to afternoon naps in my trailer for all of us, to touring the city on a rare day off. 

(During Hellboy 2 set visit 2007 at Budapest, Hungary’s “Hero Square” pictured Left to Right: Pat Paone, Dougie, Helen Chavez)

And I could never tally up the countless hours of phone chats, messenger chats, book-length emails, where she was often celebrating successes with me, calming my nerves when I had failed, giving me some well-needed big sisterly advice on life, or playfully nagging me to sleep and eat more.  Boy, was she ever stern about those last two.  If I even hinted that I had been pushing myself too hard, not sleeping enough, not eating right, she would give me “the look.”  You don’t want “the look.”   It was that raised eyebrows, all-knowing eyes searing into me kind of look, with a probing stare over the top of her glasses into my soul kind of look. You could hide nothing from her when she gave “the look.”

I adored hearing all her tales from her museum, getting history lessons all the while about who used what in what century in what country for what purpose, everything from farm tools to ancient toilet paper.  To keep me in her loop, one year for Christmas she sent me some ancient Roman coins, after I had mentioned how I love looking at coins, waving it off with, “those things are so easy to come by.” Her gifts were always accompanied by authentic Scottish shortbread cookies.  But my favorite story of hers was the mummy head she had no better place for, so he lived under her desk ... for years.  And of course, she named him “Marlon.”

I’ve always been a hugger, but Helen is the one who taught me about “Bosies.” The difference being that a Bosie is a huggle that doesn’t need to end anytime soon, where you envelop the other person in a cradle that makes them feel safe.  She was masterful at those Bosies.

I could tell Helen stories for hours, as could so many of you puppies whose lives she touched with her listening skills, mentorship, and her tireless encouragement to keep all of us creatives reaching for our dreams.

(Pictued at “Hellebration” 2008 with “FanSapiens” Left to Right: Tim Rosenberger, Katie McGregor, Helen Chavez, Stephanie Metz, Dougie, Kate Daley, Seth Lombardi)

(Pictured at Hellboy 2 premiere after party 2008 with DelToroFilms regulars; Top row: Paul Kindschi, Gary Deocampo, Maurice Mpayamaguru. Bottom row: Helen Chavez, Dougie)

But I’ll leave you with one last story.  It was 2008, and we flew Helen out to Los Angeles (I didn’t want her to sell another cow) to join all the festivities for the premiere week of Hellboy II: The Golden Army, and to see the finished product of the film set she visited with me the year before. Everything from having a salon day with Mrs. Laurie to get all done up for the red carpet premiere, and the next day she was sporting a fancy fish-print top to dutifully lead Team Blue (those beloved FanSapiens) at the Del Toro sponsored “Hellebration” party and screening night. Another experience I wanted to give her that week was her first press junket, so Mrs. Laurie gladly went to her own job that day, and Helen went with me down to the Four Seasons Hotel in Beverly Hills, where many film press junkets take place on a floor full of press suites. These are high energy days, as one after another, TV, radio, print, and dot com journalists interview us back to back all day. Helen watched from behind the monitors with Publicist John, and every time I glanced over, she was just beaming as she gave me a thumbs-up. At the end of this marathon day, we were heading home in the back of the studio-hired limo, and my eyes were getting droopy in the dark.  Helen glanced over the top of her glasses with “the look” and said with all the doting mother, favorite auntie, protective big sister she had in her, “Awe, little brother mine, come here.” I leaned my head onto her shoulder, while she pet my hair and told me how overjoyed she was with this phase of my life, and how watching me handle all the press that day made her “buttons burst with pride,” a phrase she used many a time. She always knew how to bring such peace, such calm, such encouragement, such a safe harbor.  The next thing I knew the car stopped in front of the house, and I awoke with her still holding my weary head.

Oh how I wish for one more limo ride.  One more chance to soak in her uplifting words, so I might know how to handle whatever comes next.

She went by many names -- Hellmistress, Webmaster Helen, or her preferred “Webmistress” Helen, Auntie Helen, Mentor Helen, Therapist Helen, Dear Friend Helen, Big Sister Helen, but there was only one Helen in this wacky world. She leaves a void that no one else can fill. It’s painful how much I miss her already.

I pray the angels gave her a thrilling ride to her rightful place in Heaven.  I can almost feel her gaze again right now, as she sits at the edge of a crescent moon, tilts her gaze down over the top of her glasses and gives me “the look”.....

Alright, Big Sis, I’ll eat something and get to sleep now. 

[eyrieofsynapses]

First Thoughts on YJ S4 Panel

WARNING: SPOILERS for the DC Fandome YJ S4 panel!

Okay, before I start chattering away, can I just saw how much I love this title poster? Because I love it. LOOK AT IT. LOOK AT HOW BADASS IT IS. 

Warning: this first bit is a teeny bit ranty, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t genuinely love the panel. It was really fun, but I have a few gripes with the amount of information we got. If you wanna cut straight to the cheery bits, check under the cut.

So... uh. I’m not gonna say I’m disappointed? Because I’m not, this was good, we got info, it was nice to see the voice actors. But I’m... underwhelmed. I definitely wasn’t expecting a lot but this was still, mm, not as much as I thought we’d get. No poster, no previews of character designs, not a peep as to when we’re getting the new season, nothing on where it’ll be streaming, nothing as to new characters, nothing as to who’s going to be the villain, and the Q&A session was maaaayyybe 3 minutes long. Oof, guys. Thought you said you’d leave us with something that’d leave us “more than just ‘whelmed.’” 

Essentially all we got was the title, and a few snippets of information regarding what the current status of the Team and its characters is. They didn’t really get the chance to talk to us at all about the actual season, either- I think Brandon spoke maaaybe three or four times? He got the title reveal, but, well, we knew that already, not that it’s their fault, but still. I love hearing the voice actors chat about their experiences and we got none of that, so that was disappointing. I’m wondering if there wasn’t some material cut, actually, because I distinctly recall seeing a clip on Twitter with Phil Lamarr talking about what it was like returning to the show, and it wasn’t in this. So what’s the deal, DC? Short-changing us on YJ again? When are we gonna get some actual news? 

There is the little problem that their big reveal of the title was spoiled, oh, maybe three or four months ago, and that isn’t their fault, but it does make that revelation more of an “okay, well, glad that’s confirmed” rather than an “OH MY GODS IT’S PHANTOMS WHAAAAAAAT” like I think they were hoping. Still, that’s definitely exciting to hear, and the new title poster looks cool. 

I got a “WHAT!!!” moment maaayybe three times, which is significantly less than I thought I would. There just wasn’t that much new info. But I think that’s less of a Grandon/production team problem and more of a world state and DC problem. I’m not annoyed at them, I’m annoyed at DC and at the pandemic, because I’m willing to bet their snippet was cut short by DC and what information they could’ve revealed just isn’t ready yet because of current events. Probably we would’ve gotten character designs if it weren’t for that.

As for the audio play, it was pretty good. They were definitely struggling what with having a distinct lack of people to pull from for a voice cast, but made some tongue-in-cheek references to it to take off the edge. I don’t think I realized just how many people voice for YJ until now... or how many characters each actor does. It’s a bit janky, and weird what with the arguing over who’s narrating the story (why, are they telling us the story, or are they telling it to someone else? Are you breaking the fourth wall, are you not? Make yourselves clear) but I’m blaming that on the fact that they’re more used to scripts than they are audio plays. These are different mediums, so there’s an inherent gap there; this probably would’ve gone better as an actual episode. 

So, FIRST watch-through, here’s my HAPPY cheery thoughts and reactions, in no particular order! I might do a second one later, we’ll see. (Under the cut, because it’s long.)

Return of Bowhunter Security! 

Clipboard makes a comeback!

The Supermartian marriage has taken place and they’re making reference to taking a long journey with Conner, M’gann, Bioship, Gar and J’onn. So... Mars? Do we finally get to see Mars?  

Forager gets to be sassy! And a hilarious narrator! Which, c’mon, it’s Jason Spisak, honestly, I don’t know what I expected.

Ahahah, Jason makes the most delightful faces when he’s voicing Forager. (And a few flubs, but he’s good at covering them.) We all miss Wally, but man, he does a good job with this character. Also, hey, that’s how he does the clicks!

Rocket! Even though she had a relatively minimal presence, sigh. I’m hoping they build her character more this time, she always get short-changed. 

ARTEMIS IS LEADING THE TEAM, repeat, ARTEMIS IS LEADING THE TEAM!!! YES!!! 

And she also makes a reference at some point to being in this fight for ten years, which, HMM, do I hear a reference point for our time jump? They started back in 2010, so this implies that the season’s caught up to 2020. So... season one was 2010, season two was 2016, season three was... 2018, I think? So does this make the next time jump two years too, or am I off? It also takes place on February 23rd. Eh, either way, it’s absolutely not as long as a lot of people were fearing- heck, I’m thinking this might be the shortest jump yet. Yay!

I’m not sure if the Snapper Carr dialogue is cringy or hilarious. I’m going with hilarious because I’m betting this would’ve been great if it were animated. It definitely loses something without the animation. 

Is... is Crispin Freeman playing four characters? Five? Will, Roy, Jim, Captain Boomerang... I think I’m missing someone, I’m gonna have to go back and rewatch this later, but wow. He switches between them so fluidly, too, that’s impressive.

Forget Freeman for a hot second, Nolan North, what are you doing, dude? Conner, Clayface, Mallah, at least one or two others, with a LOT of animal noises included... wow, okay. I definitely didn’t realize how many of these guys do two or three characters. 

Phil Lamarr doing Brick, Black Manta and Kaldur all at once is definitely impressive. I’m gonna take a guess and say he likes doing Brick best. He seems to get a little grin sometimes when he’s playing the character.

Ahhh, Danica McKellar definitely likes playing Terrence Terror. Don’t ask me why, I’m just getting that feeling watching her. Villains are fun to play.

...Wolf? Where’s Wolf? Uhh, guys? Where’s our fluffy doggo? Don’t tell anyone but I’m scared. 

Oooookay, that was unexpectedly gruesome. Dehydrating a man into sand? I mean, okay, it’s Clayface, but we didn’t know that till later. Eeeewww. Y’all, ik you’re going more dark, but that wasn’t an image anyone needed.

Jokes about Dadbod!Will are... hhh, cringy or funny, cringy or funny... I’m going sorta funny for now. Not enough to make me laugh, but enough to make me smile. 

Okay, Will’s definitely still hilarious. Literally that entire scenario with Captain Boomerang was amazing, and only made better by the fact that it was entirely Crispin Freeman. The “are you the Green Arrow fanclub president or something?” “...you have no idea” moment, the “boomerangs are better and Batman said so!” “...okay, FINE,” FLINGING CLIPBOARD, Boomerang teasing Will for his dadbod and Will answering with a wicked uppercut... ah, man. This is 100% Roy/Will Harper and I am here for it. 

I can see some people disliking this humor, but personally, I’m gonna just sit back and enjoy it. YJ has some quirky humor, but honestly, if you’re part of the fandom and you don’t like it, why are you even here?

Huh, Raquel’s a vegan and nobody’s making jokes about vegan burgers? Nice!

Oh, my gods, Forager deciding that Lian and Amistad playing with the food is an educational activity is AMAZING, 100% in character, and something I really, really want to see. 

(Fanartists? Fanartists, pleeeeaaasse?)

Will and Artemis ribbing each other will never get old.

...wait. Hang on. Is Will the comedic relief character now along with Forager? Is this a thing? I guess it is. If you’d asked me who out of the original Team would replace Wally as the comedic relief back when I had finished the second season, I would not have thought of him first, but I think I’m good with this. It’s definitely in character to his comic version. 

Ahh, Conner and M’gann’s relationship is still... interesting. Still not sure how to feel on this one. But hey, they’re married (?) now? Uh... nice? 

Nightwing’s off on some mysterious mission, hmm? I’m assuming that’s because of Jesse McCartney not being there, but I think I’m gonna headcanon that there are Other reasons for this. 

Yay, Clayface getting redemption! I love this in the Rebirth Batman: Detective Comics, so I’m 100% down for seeing it here. 

Tim did that for Clayface! Sweet! Not a plot thread I expected to go anywhere from that one season three episode, but one I am very happy to see used. 

...more secrets. Uhh, M’gann keeping secrets from Conner is... icky... again... but granted, keeping them because of confidentiality agreements is, well, a better excuse than she’s had in the past. Still, this is getting old.

Huh, so Waller will let out the Team’s secrets if they tell anyone about Belle Reve. I think this was already covered in the third season, but maybe not so explicitly. The reactions... hmm. Of course Conner’s okay with letting out all their secrets (and M’gann’s willing to... go along with that? ...okay...?), but the others, maybe not so much? Hmm. I wonder what Dick would have to say about that one. He definitely has something to lose. Not sure about Kaldur or Artemis, though. 

Jason did NOT get to make any Wally references. That makes me even sadder than if he did make one that made all of us cry. C’mon, guys. Let him have his references. 

I’m always a little meh on M’gann, but hey, M’gann gets to be a 100% certified badass! Saving Clayface AND taking down a ton of baddies with telekinesis, yay!

Oh, my gods. LOOPHOLES. WHAT IS WITH THIS TEAM AND LOOPHOLES. I love them so much.

The Team signing on as Bowhunter Security- oh my gods, all of the Team in fucking Bowhunter Security uniforms- oh my gods, so very in-character, so very true to YJ, so absolutely goddamn hilarious, I wanna hug whoever came up with that. That is the BEST mental image and it is a CRIME that they didn’t animate that. 

And, of course, Kaldur just immediately goes along with it. The Team’s corrupted him fully now. I mean, we knew that, but he’s done now. 

Black Manta attempting to roast Kaldur for his security uniform and Kaldur roasting him back 100 times worse is wonderful. “I wear my dignity on the inside, Father. Where do you wear yours?” KALLIE I LOVE YOU 

Ooooo, Artemis is inviting Roy to the Team? This should be interesting. He’s definitely not totally stable, but it seems to me that Artemis should be able to more or less keep him in check. Hopefully. She had to deal with Wally for five years, surely she can keep Roy in check?

...hmm. We’re all thinking there’s gonna be a Red Hood arc... Roy’s joining the team... Roy and Jason did have that run as the Outlaws in the comics with Kory... and this version of Roy has the sort of temper and attitude that I can just see Jason possibly getting along well with... hmmmmmmmm... 

Hah, villain shenanigans. Having Task Force X argue all the time is in character and admittedly sort of funny, especially as Black Manta’s sort of pulling a Kaldur and playing the absolutely exasperated denmother. I dislike BM thanks to him being a Baddie and all, but watching (listening to?) him struggle to contain them is enjoyable if only because I like watching him suffer. 

Ahh, watching the VAs is fun. It’s definitely nice to see that little view behind the camera. There’s the little smiles, the tiny grimaces at the icky bits, the responses to various bits, the way their demeanor changes with each character, everyone egging Nolan on when he’s yelling for Clayface being disintegrated... I’m sad we didn’t get to see them chat, but watching them interact while they work is fun. Pity Jason and Stephanie didn’t really have any interactions, though, I bet watching them work together would’ve been fun. Ah well. Still fun overall.

There’s a lot of variation in where they are/what setups they have. Some of them seem to have proper studios, some of them don’t but they have mics, Danica’s on the lower bunk of her son’s room with what I’m betting are several sheets hung behind her, and then... well, then there’s poor Stephanie with earbuds and what I’m betting is her phone at her friend’s house XD Also, Greg’s library is really awesome, can I steal it please?

Green title card... I know people have been positing this for a while, but Lazarus Pit? Also, the thing people haven’t talked about: Mars?! Is this a nod to the Martians, since M’gann, Conner, Gar and J’onn seem to be going there? 

Lots of speculation regarding Phantoms, but that’s been going around for a while, so *shrug* I’m not gonna spend any time on that for now.

Someone’s gonna have to write this out, methinks, for further examination. We’ll see if I get around to doing that or not before Fandome ends. I’m betting someone will record it and post it on YouTube, but a written-out version of the script would be useful. If I do, I’ll probably post it, so keep an eye out. 

So... season 3.9, episode 1? Hmm. Does this come directly prior to the fourth season? I kinda wanna say it does.

I have more thoughts, but I think I need to do a rewatch first, maybe in a little bit. Anyway... not what I was expecting, I sincerely miss Dick and Wally, but lots of funny jokes all the same, and lots of interesting information on the fourth season even if it’s nowhere near the amount we wanted. I might be underwhelmed but I’m certainly not disappointed. 

[jasontoddiefor]

Sunday Batfam Fanfic Recs!

Welcome to my second Sunday Batfam Fic Rec list!

Since the first list was such a success, I’ve decided to actually do this weekly! What is ‘this’ you ask?

Easy! Every Sunday I’ll recommend Batfam fanfics of a specific theme. The first week was Batman Beyond/Time Travel, then we had a Spooky Halloween Special and, finally, this week’s theme is…

Billionaire Batfam, Social Media & Galas!

If you want to, you can request a theme and I’ll try to find fanfictions for that!

Here’s my Batfam Fanfiction Rec Tag.

That being said, have fun reading 30 fanfictions and please leave these lovely authors a comment!

Title: #BayneIsCanon Summary: Gotham ships Batman and Bruce Wayne. He's not really sure how to feel about it. #trainwreck #bayne #scandal Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17226011

Title: #gotham is trending Summary: thghhhh: ahhhhh, i'm back in gotham. can't wait to get back to a supervillain attack every other day. i've missed this. [the city of gotham, it's vigilantes, and resident billionaires - as seen through social media] Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12331965

Title: (Dance) Lessons Summary: “STOP!” Cass shouted, suddenly appearing between them. “No talking. No fun.” she gave each one a glare. “Only… dancing.” Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13205775

Title: (that moment when) A Supehero Replies to You Summary: Dick Grayson, as any good millennial, is an avid fan of Buzzfeed: Unsolved. So, when Shane and Ryan discuss the death of Jason Todd, Dick can't help but laugh. Laugh, and then film the reactions of the batfamily when they find out....in costume. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18561994

Title: a hat fashioned from tin foil Summary: nightwang @karakurachou – 8 hours ago jason todd is alive and faked his death so he could become robin: a conspiracy theory thread. Batfam conspiracy theories meet social media. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14356020

Title: and it comes back again Summary:  Bruce “I accidentally slipped and fell across the room, took out three tables and broke a desk with your body as I ACCIDENTALLY fell on you also you’re going to jail” Wayne takes his young protégé down the rewarding path of revenge. Link:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/14268537

Title: Brother Bear Summary: Dick slips a Disney reference into a speech, Tim only realizes because Jason sneaks into his own memorial gala to finish the quote. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21036350

Title: Bruce got Therapy instead Summary: “I’m twenty four and have yet to find a partner,” Bruce stated, not looking up from the paper. “While true, I hardly think that is a subject to worry over right now. Many people your age have yet to meet someone they desire to spend the rest of their life with.” “It’s...I don’t really have a problem with the fact that I haven’t met anyone.” A pause where Bruce took a contemplative sip of his coffee. Alfred patiently waited for the young man to say what was actually going through his mind. “Well, the Manor seems rather...empty, don’t you think?” He finally looked up to his butler. Alfred fully turned to Bruce, his free hand held behind his back. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what point you’re trying to make, sir.” “I’m thinking about adopting, Alf.” OR: A world in which Bruce Wayne got therapy instead of becoming Batman. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20634062

Title: Chase You Down Until You Love Me Summary: The Waynes make a sport of their high profile in the media during yet another boring gala. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4102315

Title: Diversionary Tactic Summary:  Jason, from his early days as Robin to his later days as Red Hood, has had a unique skill set. It ends up being weirdly useful and also possibly the grossest way to have a father-son relationship moment, but hey, that’s life. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12624390

Title: Favorite Parts Summary: There are things Cass loves about Wayne parties, and things she does not. What she loves most is seeing her Father act himself at those parties. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11195331

Title: Gala Night Summary: "What if I use the wrong fork at dinner?" "You won't" "But what if I do?" Bruce arched an eyebrow "Do you seriously think that none of the kids ever used the wrong fork?" [...] Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16397771

Title: Getting out of a Gala Summary: In a world where Bruce found Jason closer to nine and his fallout with Dick wasn't that bad, Jason gets forced to attend a gala. Luckily, or unluckily for him, he ends up getting out of it partway through. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15968498

Title: Gotham’s Top Ten Memes Summary: Every city has its pride and Gotham isn't different. We love our “dark and gloomy” architecture (meet us in the Batburgers parking lot Metropolis) and our Waynes, our vigilantes and most importantly: Our memes. So, without much further ado, we present you Gotham’s top ten memes. Gotham, the Waynes and the Bats through the eyes of social media. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19283281

Title: Happy Little Accidents Summary: Bruce and Lois have a quiet, friendly moment at a gala. Memories of their children make them laugh and cry a little. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21176123

Title: Mess with Them Summary: Selina Kyle is at the first gala event a young Jason Todd attends with Bruce. And she knows exactly what he's going through. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7559761

Title: Nightmare at the Gala Summary: When an amateur group of bad guys get their hands on fear toxin, they decide to use it on their next big game: the semi-annual Gotham Leaders Family Gala. And lo and behold, your favorite vigilante family just happens to be there too. But without their alter egos, they’re just another helpless rich family with easily kidnap-able kids. Will a frantic, fear toxin induced Bruce Wayne get his head together to save them? Or will he accidentally reveal his family’s biggest secret? Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14885828

Title: Of Smiles and Broken Things Summary: Tim's first gala isn't going as well as he had hoped, but at least the host is nice. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17899127

Title: Sorrowful and Immaculate Hearts Summary: A DC universe where moms are awesome and raise their kids right. Now with more melanin and queerness. Also, Gotham's in Michigan and Metropolis is in Connecticut. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Fics are in chronological order but are all standalone. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/440926

Title: Stay a Child Summary: “Redo it,” Bruce orders. “Aw, come on!” Dick dares to pout — a thing that he uses often, and would work on anyone but Bruce and Alfred. Sometimes. Bruce gives him a look. “I’m not going to do it for you.” “I’m going to misdo it until you do,” Dick threatens. [Two times Dick went to a gala with Bruce and one time he didn’t.] Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15098102

Title: The Art of the Gala Summary: Barry is the one who usually goes to these things. Unfortunately for Hal, Barry got called in to Central for a case, so now Hal has to go to the Gala with Bruce. Bruce is just lucky Hal loves him so much. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17654852

Title: The Bat-Signal Smashing Charity Gala Summary: Spawned from the realization that them making Gordon physically destroy the Bat-Signal at the end of The Dark Knight is absurd and hilarious. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1867965

Title: The Bats Out of the Bag (At the Drop of a Tinfoil Hat) Summary: In which Tim is Bruce's secretary, there's a gala, and questions get answered. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18762865

Title: The Gotham’s Wayne Summary: dukeofthomas [We all know who the real QUEEN of the Manor is] The Gothamites are very invested in the Waynes. Very very interested. A journey through the Gotham's favorite family: the Waynes through Social Media. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13333119

Title: The Problem with Galas Summary: Galas are an issue, because something always goes wrong, and no one knows this better than Dick Grayson. (It's a bit of a problem, actually, but he can always depend on Bruce to get him out of trouble.) Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/906501

Title: The Wayne Deal Summary: Bruce Wayne's parents made a deal, if you do something to make yourself noticed at a Gotham Gala- enough to impress the papers, then they will leave right away. Bruce passes this deal along to the children in his custody.Each one adds their own flair to it. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17641559

Title: three bars, one city Summary: The Wayne kids join Twitter. This is widely seen as a very bad move. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18172040

Title: Unattended Wards and their Unfortunate Guardians Summary: Roy and Dick are left alone for a couple hours at a gala. How much trouble could two boys possibly cause while unattended? Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14770661

Title: Wayne Family Tweets, aka Why Bruce Wayne's Hair Is Going Gray Summary: JTW @hottoddie oh okay u hold a totally acceptable grudge for a couple years and suddenly ur “”bitter”” Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17387441

Title: Wayne Gala Summary: Alfred teaches the boys how to dance. The girls go shopping for dresses. And it only took three hours into the party for all that effort go to waste. …But that's fine. They were Waynes. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11316591

[yellowocaballero]

written in 2 hours for $5

my friend: so, in your story, you say that Jon went to see a doctor who DIDN’T diagnose him with anything, despite him thinking all of his employees were trying to kill him...I will give you $5 to write this conversation

me: what’s your venmo.

under a readmore as to not traumatize Bukowski with sloppy depictions of therapy.

                Okay, that ordeal was over with. Jon hated health services. He never went to the doctor if he could help it. It was easy to avoid it, since Elias gave as little healthcare as physically possible, and Jon was of the personal opinion that he never got sick, anyway. Sickness was a state of mind, and Jon’s mind was not in that state. What was a cold but your body temporarily acting funny before going back to normal? Absolutely nothing, no matter what Martin wrung his hands and insisted about. If Jon got the flu, he threw up in the toilet and then went back to work. RIP to the influenza virus but he was different.

                Jon sat anxiously in the waiting room of the counseling clinic, struggling to recall if his mother was depressed or not.

                Like, Jon would personally be very depressed, if he had given birth to Jon. He hesitantly wrote it in, then scratched it out, then scowled at the very nuclear family centric medical history section of the patient chart, then went through the usual rigamarole of feeling self-pity over being an orphan. Finally, he settled on just writing in a big question mark in the mother and father sections. He wrote into the side that his Grandfather and two of his Uncles had schizophrenia, which had to be useful in some sort of way.

                Okay, that ordeal was over with. Jon hated health services. He never went to the doctor if he could help it. It was easy to avoid it, since Elias gave as little healthcare as physically possible, and Jon was of the personal opinion that he never got sick, anyway. Sickness was a state of mind, and Jon’s mind was not in that state. What was a cold but your body temporarily acting funny before going back to normal? Absolutely nothing, no matter what Martin wrung his hands and insisted about. If Jon got the flu, he threw up in the toilet and then went back to work. RIP to the influenza virus but he was different.

                The waiting room for the clinic wasn’t empty, even if that would have made Jon feel better. A tired looking Hispanic woman clutching her purse sat on one couch, an elderly man clutching a cane sitting in an armchair with his wife browsing a magazine beside him. Boring, banal, bothersome. Jon wasn’t like these losers. He wasn’t a weak-willed person who…accused all of his coworkers of murder plots…to the extent where one of his subordinates threatened him into going to a therapist. That hadn’t happened. To him.

                For the record, it wouldn’t have worked if Martin hadn’t been so good at disguising what a manipulative bastard he was. Jon didn’t know people could make their eyes that big. Or that people could be so talented at gathering evidence of workplace harassment, enough that even Elias would be forced to exact some sort of disciplinary action against him. Had Martin always been so terrifying? His ranking on the ‘Possibly Wants To Kill Me’ scale jumped a few notches, but was forced to drop down a few notches due to Jon admitting that someone who wanted to kill him probably wouldn’t blackmail him into therapy.

                Probably.

                He briefly detailed his diagnostic history (none), detailed his list of previous surgeries and health conditions (none, save the anemia in uni), and briefly gave a list of childhood trauma (none that anyone would believe, although he found himself hesitantly writing down ‘Foster system, parental incarceration, orphaned’, as if that was a real trauma or something instead of stuff that just happened to him that had no effect on his brain whatsoever).

                He finally got to the difficult section, the one that always tripped him up and made him sweat. He breezed through the demo questions (Black, male last time he checked, younger than he looked) but stared for an uncomfortably long time at the sexuality questions. His pen hovered over heterosexual, but his Mental Georgie (meaner than the actual Georgie) yelled at him until his pen hovered over bisexual instead. But that wasn’t quite right either, was it? Bad memories of scrolling desperately and shamefully through AVEN at 2am last year flashed through his mind, but asexual wasn’t on the list. He marked in bisexual, although he didn’t think it counted if he’d never had any…relations with male presenting people, although it didn’t quite fit.

                Under alcohol use he very proudly put none, feeling both smug and embarrassed over being smug over it. Under drug use he also was proud to put none. Then it asked for his history and, like, whatever. He hated this list. It sucked. Jon didn’t like admitting to the coke he only did three times. Or was it four? That he could remember.

                Under the ‘Have you ever been hospitalized’ question he put yes, then he remembered that they had technically diagnosed him with alcoholism and depression so he had to go back and put that down in his diagnoses, then he had to put down that he had attempted suicide a few times. Jon felt uncomfortable about nameless strangers knowing this, when he had never told anybody and had never been planning on it. It was a secret he would take to his grave, but he was telling this piece of paper, apparently. Hopefully nobody looked at this.

                Under the section for ‘why he came in’, Jon decided honestly was the best policy. He wrote down carefully, in precise letters, ‘I do not need to come in but my subordinate (who may be plotting murder against me) blackmailed me into it’. There. Honesty was the best policy.

                Finally the accursed intake form was over, Jon was able to hand it to the nurse he suddenly imagined looked very judgmental, and he was able to flip aimlessly through the three year old magazines on the glass tabletop flanking a piece of calming abstract art. He would never admit it to literally anybody in his life, but he enjoyed the voyeurism of celebrity gossip. He loved learning things about people that were supposed to be private, that nobody was supposed to know. It wasn’t a real secret if he learned it off TMZ, but it felt like one, and that was good enough. It was none of his business who was dating who or who had cheated on who, but that was part of the fun. Jon’s thirst for knowledge was absolute. But, still, nobody could ever know about this. Georgie had laughed at him for a week when she found out.

                Still, the magazine was wrong. The pop star wasn’t cheating on her boyfriend with her bodyguard. She was cheating on her boyfriend with her college roommate. Jon didn’t remember exactly where he had read it, but he knew it was true. Must have caught it on a reddit thread or something. Jon snorted. They should really polish up on their fact checking.

                After what felt like hours, but in fact was twenty-two minutes and forty seconds exactly, the nurse called Jon in. They took his height (still too tall), took his weight (ugh….), and took his blood pressure, which seemed to alarm the nurse, who asked him if he had a family history of hypertension. He just explained that his job was very high stress.

                “Ah,” the nurse said, and made a note on his clipboard.

                “The previous holder of my position was murdered,” Jon said helpfully, “and I think one of my employees did it. Either that or my boss. That, or various supernatural entities, but generally I’ve been doing a pretty good job of holding those off.”

                “That’s so interesting,” the nurse said, making another note on the clipboard.

                Then he was directed into the actual therapist’s office. Not his therapist, or at least he didn’t think so – the way they explained it to him, and the way the twenty internet sites he’d compulsively researched said it worked, was that he would get an intake with a trainee, who would then refer him to a therapist that worked for him in the building. It made sense, although very little about this entire process really did. Jon hated doctors. What were therapists, but doctors who made less sense, and did not respect science?

                The intake therapist’s office was overly calming. There was an incense diffuser in the corner, a tea station set up in another corner, and a comfortable looking couch facing a chair. There was a coffee table in the center filled with fidget toys and candy, along with some stuffed animals and other comfort items with some books, and Jon awkwardly shook the hand of the young woman who opened the door for him and sat down on the far corner of the couch.

                She introduced herself as Angela and had a bright white smile. Jon wondered if she had ever killed anybody. Her hair was glossy and black, she seemed to be Hispanic or thereabouts, and exuded a trustworthy and competent yet friendly air. Jon did not trust her.

                “So, Jon,” Angela said, once they both settled down. “I’m just going to give you a quick run-down of this process. I’ll interview you based on your intake form, we’ll come up with a case formulation, and I’ll refer you to a therapist with our clinic who can help you out. You indicated that this is your first time seeing a counselor?”

                “Uh, yes.” Jon clasped his hands, then his knees, then sat up very straight, then slouched. He now understood why the fidget toys were there. “But I really don’t want to see a therapist. I just told someone I’d come in here, so here I am. I can leave right after this.”

                “Who asked you to come in?”

                “Martin. Uh. My employee.”

                She made a note in her notebook. “Does he only know you from work?”

                “Yes.”

                “So your employees have been noticing some behavior from you at work that lead them to ask you to come?” Angela asked delicately.

                “Uh. Yeah.”

                “What kind of behavior?”

                Well, sure, make him think about it. Jon clenched his trousers a little. “I’ve been…well, according to Tim, I’ve been stalking them a bit. Which, perhaps, from a certain point of view, I’m willing to admit to. Also going through their desks. Some verbal accusations. Apparently, I’ve been difficult to work with lately.”

                Scribble scribble scribble. “What sort of accusations?”

                “Someone’s trying to kill me,” Jon said firmly. “I’m just trying to find out who. I’m exploring every option. Nobody is above suspicion. I know it seems…I know it doesn’t seem very usual, but that’s the situation.”

                “Have you talked to the police?”

                God, has he ever. “They’re willing to collaborate with me, but there’s only so much they can do,” Jon said seriously. Even if they had confidentiality, which they had explained to him as he came in, he could hardly admit to Basira doing something illegal for him. “But we are working on it together. At least some officers on the force take murder investigations seriously.”

                “Alright. If you don’t mind, I’m going to refer back to some questions that we asked you on the sheet. Just a little more detail on them.” Angela looked down at what he had to assume was a print-out of his answers on the intake questionnaire. “It says here that you have a family history of schizophrenia?”

                “Yeah,” Jon said blankly, “what does that have to do with anything?”

                She looked further down the list. “And…a history of alcoholism and drug abuse?”

                “Yes, technically.”

                “Alright.” She leaned backwards and opened a file cabinet, rifling through it before withdrawing a piece of paper and passing it to Jon. Jon hesitantly took it, scanning the paper. “Can you fill this out for me quickly, please?”

                Jon read the questions.

                Do you ever hear or see things that others cannot?

                Well, yes, Jon experienced many supernatural phenomena that others could not perceive. He checked off yes.

                Do you ever struggle to trust that what you are thinking is real?

                Frequently. He just knew his mind was being manipulated by the mysterious Watcher. Plus there was that business with Sasha. Something’s off about her.

                Do you ever get the sense that others are controlling your thoughts and emotions?

                That occurred in dozens of Statements, plus his own life. Yes.

                Do you struggle to keep up with daily living tasks?

                Tim did tell him that he didn’t shower enough…

                Do you feel that you have powers that others cannot understand or appreciate?

                Jon thought blankly of all those times that he asked people questions and they almost…had to answer. He checked yes for that too.

                Etc, etc, etc.

                Jon looked up from this test. “Are you under the impression I’m schizophrenic?”

                “I can’t make a diagnosis yet,” the therapist said delicately. “Why don’t we talk after you finish the screening.”

                Jon silently passed it back to her, after checking yes on almost everything. She scanned it quickly.

                “Hm.”

                “Look,” Jon said awkwardly, knowing that this probably looked bad, “I know that I may come off as a paranoid lunatic, but the supernatural is out there and is targeting me personally. I think I may work for it, honestly? Do you ever feel like an accountant for evil in your day to day life, or is that just me?” Jon paused a beat, and found that his hands were shaking. He was scared. Why was he scared? “I always feel something watching me. Something – something in the walls. I’m sitting at my desk, it’s late at night, and nobody’s around, but sometimes when I do my work…I feel something looking over my shoulder. It hates me. It wants to hurt me. I don’t know why I know it, I just do. Something invisible in the walls is looking at me, and nobody believes me when I say it’s there but I know it is.” He found himself speaking faster, almost as if he was begging her to understand. “When you look at a – at this couch, you know it’s there, right? How would you feel if everybody started telling you that it wasn’t there? That what your eyes and ears and body was telling you was fake? You’d feel like it was everybody else who was crazy, not you. Even if your eyes were closed, if you reached out your hand you could feel it. No matter what you might tell yourself, or what other people might tell you, it’s real. It’s there. You can’t deny it. I’m not crazy. It’s there. Something is watching me. You don’t – you don’t have to believe me. But I’m right. And you’re wrong, if you think it’s not.”

                Angela stared at him.

                Then she stood up, clutching her mobile. Jon realized for the first time that it was ringing. “I’ll be right back.”

                She left the room, holding the phone to her ear. Jon felt it was somewhat unprofessional for a therapist to walk out in the middle of a session for a phone call. Maybe it was important? Her husband was in the hospital or something? It was none of his business.

                Jon tapped his toes. Stared at the wall. There was a poster with a sloth on it that said ‘Hang In There!’. He was hanging in there, all right.

                He wondered if he was crazy. If it even mattered.

                Jon had always had nobody but himself to rely on. Well, maybe Georgie, once upon a time, but he had burned that bridge. At the end of the day, it had always been him. In that gutter where he had almost drowned in his own vomit, it had just been him.

                If he couldn’t trust his own mind, who could he trust? If even his own faculties left him, he had nothing. No friends, no family, no support. Just him. If Jon lost his mind, if he went completely crazy, then there was nobody to pick up the pieces ever again. For the first time since coming in, Jon found himself scared. Would he have to take medication? Would it make him dumb? Jon would rather be crazy then dumb.

                The door opened, and Angela returned. But there was something just a little different about her, something Jon picked up immediately. Her eyes were – almost glassy, almost not present. She had been such an attentive, active listener before, but now she seemed far away. Her gait was a little stiffer than it had been previously.

                “Bad news?” Jon breached awkwardly.

                “Nothing to worry about,” Angela smiled. But it didn’t reach her eyes. How strange. She sat back down in her chair, posture perfect and prim. “Well, I took a look at your sheet, and I have some good news for you.”

                “You – you do?” Jon asked, thrown off. Doctors never had good news for him. They always seemed to think he was a medical freak of nature who was alive only through an act of spite against god.

                “Of course. You don’t seem to have any kind of mental illness. Honestly, I just think your problem is that you’re stressed at work.”

                “I – so you don’t think I’m schizophrenic? Despite answering yes to almost every question on that test? And having family members with schizophrenia? And being a black male in my late twenties, the highest risk group?”

                “Yes.” Angela smiled prettily at him. “I think it’s just a matter of adjustment. You’re a transitionary phase in your life, Jon. You’re moving from one role to another. I think all you have to do is accept your new role in life, and your problems will sort themselves out.”

                “I – yes. Yes, of course.” It was like a huge weight had been taken off his chest. Jon felt so relieved. Nothing was wrong with him. His mind was still his own. He wasn’t crazy! “You’re right. I’m just stressed. Thank you so much, doctor. I feel a lot better about this now. I knew Martin was just overreacting.”

                “Martin’s always overreacting!” Angela laughed. She stood up from her chair, clearly signifying the interview was over despite him only being there for less than ten minutes. “Have a great day, Jon. You deserve it.”

                “Thanks, doctor. I promise I’ll work on – just calming down a bit. Wow. What a relief.” Jon stood up too, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers before shaking her hand. “I knew I wasn’t crazy.”

                “What’s crazy,” Angela said, “but a state of mind? The world is already so bizarre and usual, Jon, it’s strangest to be sane.”

                “I – okay?”

                Jon left the doctor’s appointment feeling very good about everything. Maybe the doctor’s had been a good idea. He would have to thank Martin.

                Wow. Now that was a crazy thought. Thanking Martin! Hah!

                Jon went home, feeling very good about his life and his trajectory in it.

                For the very last time.