#i mean we’ve all mentioned her tim energy

[moredancesmyraptheart]

alice jokingly saying to sam “you’ve made a powerful enemy tonight” feels like a line that will one day hurt on relisten ngl

[rebeccalouisaferguson]

It’s not every day your childhood friend gets married, but it’s also not every day you get to talk to an actress you’ve adored for a decade. And thus, I found myself, anxiety-riddled, in my car, in the non-distinct parking lot of a brewery in Florida.

Then Rebecca Ferguson lights up my phone screen, radiating that same magnetic energy that first caught my eye in the 2013 miniseries The White Queen. She’s well-spoken, charming, witty, and brimming with passion as she discusses her Apple TV+ dystopian drama, Silo.

In addition to playing the lead role of engineer Juliette Nichols, Ferguson also serves as an executive producer on the series, becoming involved with Silo quite early on and using her position of power to listen, speak up when needed, “and care for the people on set.” The result is a work environment she loves, friendships with her VFX team, and adoration for her cast, including Harriet Walter, David Oyelowo, and Tim Robbins.

As I mentioned, Rebecca Ferguson is a pure delight. I’d happily step out on any family function for a chance to pick her brain, but what she’s far too humble to mention, a fact that is abundantly clear to droves of viewers (and hopefully, awards voters too)—is that a central reason why Silo works so well—— is because Ferguson is pitch-perfect in the role. We become so invested in the many twisted mysteries of Silo because we’ve become invested in her. Ferguson’s Juliette is strong and commanding, a true badass, fighting to uncover the truth. But as we peel back the layers, we see a subtle, heart-breaking vulnerability that adds a layer of complexity that only an actress with Ferguson’s seriously impressive range can deliver.

To echo Ferguson herself, “Please just watch season one.”

Awards Daily: Rebecca, you got involved with Silo early on. How has your input shaped the show and shaped Juliette as a character?

Rebecca Ferguson: It’s a big question with a very non-simple answer. I mean, I think my involvement is by casting the people you cast. You get the characters that you get. Do you know what I mean? You read a script, and you analyze the character, and you talk to [the team].

It’s a tricky, intense question. I mean, things come about by creating, listening, reading, thinking, and researching, right?

AD: Juliette is such an interesting character in that she’s initially very stoic and we peel back the layers of who she is as the show goes on. We learn more about her relationship with George (Ferdinand Kingsley). We learn more about her father (Iain Glen) later on. How did you calibrate your performance, knowing that a lot of the big reveals would happen later in the show?

RF: It’s kind of on the page. It’s like any film or any acting job that you do. We don’t reveal everything straight away, right? When we do a Mission Impossible film, we don’t tell you about the syndicate. It’s what storytelling is all about, right? You do scene by scene.

AD: Did you find that you had to approach Silo any differently?

RF: No, I didn’t. I’m very simple in the sense that I read a script. I like the character, and I start deep diving and do the work that I need to do to bring her forth. There’s nothing different to the process of anything. Everything is different in the sense that it depends on the people you work with. I have four different directors. It’s a little different, but the process for me is the same.

AD: What is your process? Are there certain ways that you like to break down the script?

RF: I mean, no. To be honest, I don’t really talk about my process because it’s my process, but I like the show, I love the scale of the set, I love the team, and I love the fact that I get to sit in on the writer’s rooms if I’m allowed to. I get to be a part of the process. You know, it’s a love journey for me. This is a baby; this job is. It’s one of the happiest jobs that I’ve ever done.

AD: The set is so extraordinary. What is it like to be in that environment, to run through those stairs?

RF: That’s phenomenal. The fact that Apple has actually put so much effort into letting creators create the environment. You know, we have people come for set visits to see it because it’s so incredible. And we have three different locations where we film, in one area, in one town outside of London.

I’m so close to the visual effects guys. They’re very good friends of mine, [VFX supervisors] Paul [Bongiovanni] and Daniel [Rauchwerger], And I often ask them, ‘Okay, I can see the stairs. We’re looking at four turns that I can run, and we run them all the time up and down and up and down, and they’re different levels, right?’

But I often ask, ‘Show me what you’re doing. I want to see the visual effects that you’re going to put on so that I can act against the incredibleness that you’re going to bring.’ Because, to be honest, the silo wouldn’t be [possible] without the VFX team.

AD: Does having this level of access change how you might approach another project?

RF: You know what, that’s such a good question. I think being so much on the front foot. And being the lead and having a producer role. By producer role, I don’t analyze that in the sense that I know what a producer is, and I put a cap on it. I just have a voice, and I speak, and I listen, and I care for the people on set.

It’s a very, very, very good environment on our set. There is no hierarchy. Everyone does what they need to do because they’re hired to do a good job. No one steps in on someone’s toes. It’s collaborative. Not all sets are run like this.

So after Silo, I was worried about doing other films because I was thinking, ‘How am I going to react when sets are moody and when people are not nice, and when there are egos.’ But to be honest, I did Dune. I mean, it was a good place to go. I was like, ‘Oh, I can lean back. We’re good. This is run pretty well.’ And then I did Silo season 2 again, and then I did something else, and now I’m doing a thing [sci-fi drama Mercy] with Chris Pratt, who is one of the nicest human beings, ever.

I’m doing well, and I’m very fortunate with the sets and the environments, but I think I’ve learned—and I’ve learned this from Mission and Tom [Cruise] as well, who speaks up a lot—if things don’t work, communicate it.

Be clear, pause, listen, and take in when people who don’t really have a strong voice are trying to say something, and give them space to actively feel that they are involved in the process as well. That’s how you get the best of everyone.

AD: Did you make any adjustments coming into season two?

RF: No, I think it was all very much the same. Because we’d found a formula that just worked, we had new crew members, which was sad. We’d lost a couple to other shows. But other than that, I think we had about 80 percent of the people back. People were knocking to come back. It’s just a really happy set. And no, nothing’s new. New directors, so taking and listening to their approach and seeing how that works. But they also understand that they’re walking onto a functioning set.

AD: What is it like for you to be at the center of this thing that has become a cultural phenomenon? People are anxious for season two. I mean, it’s exciting, right?

RF: So exciting. Someone asked me, ‘When was the moment when you realized that this was something?’ I didn’t look for that. But it was the moment when Apple called. The show was out, the numbers were coming in, I read a couple of reviews, my husband was probably looking [things] up and kind of going, ‘it’s good. It’s good.’ But I didn’t want to take it in. Apple called, and they said, ‘It’s good. People are liking it.’ And I was like, ‘Okay, the numbers don’t lie. People are actually watching it.’ And the reviews were good, and they were compelled, and they were feeling what I had felt reading it and making it. And that is huge for me because I really care. I really fucking care.

AD: Okay, last question, if you could pick any role or position within the silo, what would you be? You’re so regal. You’d make a good mayor.

RF: Yeah, but I’m also Juliette, who’s not regal, right?

AD: Well, if you weren’t Juliette.

RF: I think that it would be really boring up top, to be honest. I think the regulations are dull, right? I think I would either be middle. I like farms and greenery. I need all of that. I’d probably run my own little shop of something, little knickknacks, paddywhacks. But I would have a foot down in the deep.

AD: Rebecca, I know this show means a lot to you. As I let you go, is there anything I haven’t asked you about that you’d like to mention? Do you have any final thoughts?

RF: Thank you. I mean, no, I think you’ve really nailed most of it. And I think the fact is people know the show is dystopian. And if you like the genre, I believe you would really love the characters around it. It has the most incredible cast, and it has a cast that has really nurtured their characters and the evolution of the characters. The fact that we’re going into season two is so overwhelmingly exciting. It makes me want to grab people and go, ‘Please just watch season one and know that we’re going into shit that is intense.’

[phoebenavarro]

rest assured, the night will come

realized I haven’t posted this here! a continuation of my “Jon trusts Tim” s2 AU, but this is first chronologically so reading the other parts isn’t necessary

After the Prentiss attack, Jon finds himself exhausted, in pain, and dreading having to be alone, so that’s how he finds himself outside of Tim’s flat propping himself up on the cane the doctors gave him with two containers of curry takeaway in his free hand. Together, Jon and Tim grapple with the events of the day, and Jon makes a decision on who he can trust.

the magnus archives, jontim, 2500 words

on ao3 here

When Jon finally leaves the Institute, statements taken and pain meds all but worn off, exhausted and bone-weary, the last thing he wants to do is to be alone in his flat. He wants nothing more than to sleep, but even as tired as he is, the nightmares that are sure to come turn him off the concept. His stomach clenches, and he realizes that it’s from hunger, not fear or anxiety or disgust like he’d been assuming since he woke up. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to keep any food down, but he figures he’s got to  at least try. And he really doesn’t want to be alone, so that’s how he finds himself outside of Tim’s flat propping himself up on the cane the doctors gave him with two containers of curry takeaway in his free hand.

I should have texted, he thinks, rather belatedly, after he’s knocked on the door.

Tim answers the door after a few moments, and he looks slightly better than he did the last time Jon saw him. Maybe he took a nap. He looks surprised to see Jon.

“Sorry, I should’ve let you know I was coming,” Jon says before Tim gets a chance to say anything, “But I really didn’t want to be alone, so.” He holds up the food. “Curry?”

Tim smiles the first genuine smile Jon’s seen from him since they both woke up in the ECDC tent.

“God, yeah, you read my mind,” Tim says, “Come in.”

Jon’s been to Tim’s flat a few times, so he makes a bee line for the coffee table and sets the food down. A nature documentary of some sort is playing on the TV, volume low. He smiles a bit; Tim always needs his background noise. Jon carefully sits down on the sofa, wincing as the movement pulls on his wounds, and leans the cane against the armrest.  

Tim looks at him with concern. “Boss, did you just now leave the Institute?”

“Yes,” Jon sighs. The pain medication has now worn off entirely, he thinks, and his entire body aches. The worst is in his hip, where the worms dug particularly deep. The doctors gave him a prescription for more, but he didn’t think to go pick it up before the pharmacies closed, something he is now seriously regretting.

“Jon,” Tim says, exasperated.

“I know, I know…”

Tim turns on his heel and rummages around in the kitchen, returning with some napkins and a pill bottle, which he holds out to Jon.

“I’m assuming you didn’t get a chance to get these then,” he says, giving the bottle a shake, “Good thing I did, huh?” Jon wordlessly takes the bottle. “Food first, though.”

“Oh! Right,” Jon says, “Thank you, Tim. You’re a life saver.” Tim hums. “Quite literally.”

“Yeah. Guess there are some perks of getting eaten by worms together, huh? Sharing food and drugs.” He stands up. “Want something to drink? Alcohol is a big no no on the medication, otherwise I would be getting wasted.”

“Water’s fine,” Jon says. Tim goes back to the kitchen, and Jon starts unpacking the containers of food. Tim returns with two glasses of water, and they eat mostly in silence, too exhausted for the animated banter they usually share. Jon doesn’t mind, the quiet companionship is comforting, so they just sit and watch the documentary. Jon doesn’t really absorb any of it, but the soothing voice of the narrator is also comforting.

After they finish eating, Tim starts cleaning up, taking the empty containers to the kitchen. Jon takes a moment to read the directions on the pill bottle before taking one, very much looking forward to the pain easing up. Tim returns, settling next to Jon on the couch, sitting close enough that Jon can lean against him. They finish up the documentary, and Jon finally lets himself relax as the pain medication kicks in.

“What now?” Tim asks. Jon shrugs.

“I don’t care. Put on whatever you want.” “Alright,” Tim says, “A comfort movie then.” Jon nods, letting himself zone out while Tim scrolls through menus on the TV. Tim selects something, and Jon rouses himself from his thoughts.

“What are we watching?” Jon asks.

“Stand By Me.”

“Oh, I’ve never seen it.”

“Boss,” Tim sighs, shaking his head in disappointment, but he’s still grinning, “You’ve got to watch more movies. It’s a classic!”

Tim talks throughout the movie, but Jon doesn’t mind, because he has the subtitles on and everything he mentions is related to the movie, little tidbits and trivia. (“It’s based on a short story by Stephen King called The Body, and Stephen King actually saw a friend of his get killed by a train, but he doesn’t remember it because he repressed it so thoroughly,” Tim says. Jon admits he hasn’t read much Stephen King, and he is treated to a mini lecture about how “Stephen King is one of the most prolific authors of our time and you can’t discount him just because he is known for horror.”)

Tim is… remarkably normal, considering the day they had. Jon knows he copes with humor, so it’s not all that surprising, but Jon can’t muster up the energy to pretend to be annoyed by Tim’s quips. His mind keeps wandering back to Gertrude, murdered and then left in the tunnels for months, no one caring enough to truly look for her, not even the police.

That could happen to you, a horrible part of his mind whispers, and he shivers.

“Jon, what’s wrong?” Tim asks, gently, very sincerely, and he pauses the movie, turning to face Jon, “I mean, other than the obvious. I can practically hear you thinking.” Jon hesitates. It’s never been his nature to share his feelings with anyone, not even the people he’s closest with, but as he looks at Tim, at the bandages covering his skin that Jon can’t help but feel responsible for, he finds himself wanting to tell Tim. Tim suffered the worst right along him, he can trust Tim, especially when he’s looking at Jon like he is.

“You heard about Gertrude?” Jon asks quietly.

“Yeah, Martin told me, after I finally got him to stop apologizing for losing us in the tunnels.”

“Did he…” Jon swallows, “Did he tell you how she died?”

“No, but I’m guessing it wasn’t natural causes.”

“She ah, she was shot.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Tim breathes, “Seriously?” Jon nods. “Christ, who would want to kill Gertrude?”

“I don’t know, but it scares me,” Jon admits, “Even more than if she was killed by some… Monster. Because…”

“Because this was a person,” Tim finishes, “And they could do it again.” Jon nods again. “Yeah, I get it.” Tim cocks his head, makes the face he always makes when he’s about to make a joke to try to lighten the mood, “Although, it could have been a monster with a gun. We don’t know that they can’t use guns.” And Jon can’t help it, he does grin a little.

“Yes, well, somehow I don’t think that’s likely,” he says.

“No,” Tim sighs mournfully, “But that would be pretty cool. I mean, bad for us, Jane Prentiss managed to fuck us up pretty badly with just the worms, I’m glad we didn’t have to worry about being shot—“

“Tim,” Jon says, stopping him, because this topic of conversation is not good for his anxiety.

“Sorry,” Tim says, picking up on Jon’s discomfort, “Uh, do the police have any leads?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Jon says, “I’d imagine the trail is pretty cold by now. I mean, it was probably someone at the Institute, to be able to get into the tunnels, but we have no idea if there are other entrances outside the Institute… So it really could’ve been anyone.”

“But why would someone kill Gertrude?” Tim wonders, “I mean, other than for gross incompetence at actual archiving. Unless she was a secret badass or something.”

“At this point, I wouldn’t even be all that surprised,” Jon mutters, “I don’t want to believe that there’s a murderer at the Institute, but that’s what makes the most sense.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees, “Probably.”

“I— It feels like I’m being watched, when I’m in the Archives. And with the tunnels— there’s more to the Institute than I thought. There’s something off. And I think Gertrude’s death has something to do with that. And…” Jon bites his lip.

“And?” Tim prompts.

“And what if whoever killed her comes after me as well?”

“Jon…”

“I know, I know, it’s stupid, but I can’t shake the feeling.”

“After the day we’ve had, I don’t think that’s stupid. A bit paranoid, maybe, but not stupid.”

“Oh,” Jon says. He hadn’t expected Tim to take him seriously.

“Considering the way Prentiss seemed to single you out, I mean, it kind of makes sense that people— or monsters might have it out for the archivist.” And that’s something Jon’s been trying not to think about, but he definitely agrees.

“And that is a whole other terrifying question,” Jon sighs, “What exactly I’ve gotten us into. But my more immediate concern is whether or not there is a murderer in our midst.”

“Bit more pressing,” Tim agrees, “You think the cops can handle it?”

Jon shrugs, “They weren’t particularly interested in finding her the first time, I don’t think finding her killer is going to be a priority.”

Tim snorts. “No, of course not.”

“It could have been anyone, even Martin, even Sasha. I really hope it wasn’t them, but I’m starting to think that we can’t afford to trust anyone. I know how paranoid that sounds, but—“

“But it makes sense,” Tim says. They lapse into silence for a moment. “What about me?

“What?”

“How can you be sure I didn’t kill Gertrude?”

Jon considers it. He probably shouldn’t trust Tim, if he’s being purely logical. But he does. He knows Tim; he saw Tim, when he first came to the Institute, deeply traumatized and clearly in a bad place (and he’d been curious about what happened, of course he was, but he’s known for a very long time that there are things you don’t ask about.) Jon helped coax him into a better place, watched as Tim found himself again. All that, and what they’d been through today was a hell of a bonding experience, and well, they were alone a lot during the attack. If Tim wanted him dead, he’d had plenty of opportunities.

But really, it all comes down to: Jon is scared, and he doesn’t want to do this alone, and Tim is the safest option. No, not just that, he wants to trust Tim.

“Because you’re my friend and I’m choosing to trust you,” Jon says.

Tim has a bit of a deer-in-the-headlights look to him, like he wasn’t expecting Jon to be sincere.

“Yeah,” Tim says, and he looks away from Jon, and he sounds a bit strained, “Yeah boss, I trust you too.” Jon grins.

“I appreciate it,” Jon says, “Considering you’re allergic to sincerity.” He nudges Tim with his elbow, and Tim laughs, pulling Jon into a loose embrace, careful not to put too much pressure on their wounds. Tim sighs, and he starts gently brushing his fingers through Jon’s hair. Jon melts into the touch, and they settle back against the couch cushions in each other’s arms. It feels right.

“If you want to do your own investigation into Gertrude’s killer, I will help you,” Tim says, “One hundred percent. But right now we can’t really do anything. The Institute’s closed, we’re out on sick leave. The trail’s not gonna get any colder. First we need to focus on healing, okay?” Jon nods. “We can figure out all the suspects and make a murder board later, but I don’t think either of us are up to it right now.” As much as Jon’s skin is buzzing with the need to do something, or else he’s leaving himself open to attack, his more rational side knows that Tim is right. They’re safer together, anyway.

“Yeah,” Jon says, “Right. Let’s finish the movie.” They resume the movie, and Tim is a bit more subdued, content to watch the screen and idly run his fingers through Jon’s hair. As the film draws to a close, Tim starts to doze, breathing softly. Jon looks down at Tim’s peaceful face, covered in bandages, and his heart twists. This is his fault. If Tim hadn’t been helping Jon walk, he probably would’ve kept up with Martin, or if he’d left Jon to his fate, maybe he would have been able to outrun Prentiss and the worms.

This isn’t helpful, Jon chastises himself, but he can’t stop. If he can’t protect his employees, his friends, then what is the point? He tries not to spiral, and he directs his attention to the end of the movie. It’s not the kind of movie he would normally pick for himself, but he can see why Tim likes it. There are few things Tim values more than family, whether that be blood family or found family. Tim doesn’t talk much about his parents, but there are pictures of them and a brother around the place. Tim will talk more about his brother, but it’s always tinged with sadness, like he isn’t around anymore. Jon doesn’t ask; he feels like he hasn’t earned the right.

“I guess I should head back to my flat.” Jon says while the credits are rolling,  because he can feel himself starting to nod off next to Tim. That wakes Tim up, though.

“Jon,” he groans, “It’s midnight. You’re staying here.” He says it with finality, like it’s obvious. “I’m not letting you take the tube in the middle of the night when you can barely walk.” He gestures at Jon’s cane. Jon feels like he needs to object out of politeness, to make sure that it’s really alright, but he is, quite frankly, too tired, and he knows Tim wouldn’t offer if he didn’t mean it. But still, that part within him that won’t allow him to be a burden on anybody squirms. He pushes the feeling down.

Jon nods. “Thank you, Tim.”

“Come on,” Tim says, slowly getting to his feet, “The guest bed is made up, and we’re really gonna regret it in the morning if we sleep on the couch.” He offers a hand to help Jon up, but Jon waves him off, not wanting to hurt him. He uses his cane to help him get to his feet, and Tim leads him to the guest bedroom.

“Bathroom’s across the hall,” Tim says, “Let me know if you need anything.” And then Tim pulls him into a hug, resting his chin on Jon’s shoulder. “I’m really glad we’re alive,” he says into Jon’s hair, “We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

“Okay,” Jon replies, “Thanks Tim.”

That night, at least, they both sleep soundly, too exhausted for nightmares.

[kindness-bliss]

New Beginnings Ch. 12

Timothy Thatcher x OC

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: none

One year later   Tim looked at apartments with his fiance as they walked around, Emily was everything he could dream of. She had a good heart, educated, loved her job, was actually his age and extremely kind. It had started just days after that night at the club where she approached him at a coffee shop over the book he was reading, he was impressed that someone else could enjoy a George Orwell novel like him. From that day on it was non stop texting and late night phone calls which eventually turned into dates and then sleeping over at each others places and one day he just said fuck it and got a ring at a shop and proposed. It was nothing special truly, he didn’t even get down on one knee which he kind of regretted but not really. He liked her, he liked her a lot but part of him knew he didn’t love her.    “Sweetheart, are you alright ?” Emily asked petting his cheek “you look out of it”   Tim shook his head “Oh I’m fine, just thinking about what would be best is all. We looked at all the ones on our list and you seem to be keen on this area, this the one then ?”

 Emily grinned and nodded “It’s perfect, it’s near both our jobs and it’s a 2 bedroom just in case after the wedding you know….”   He sighed as he stepped back “Em, we’ve talked about this dozens of times already. I said I don’t want kids, I’m past that stage. Us together is enough for me and you said it was enough for you as well, remember ?”  

 “I did” she nodded “It’s just a maybe, like a what if situation kind of thing is all. I know where you stand on children and I totally respect plus we’re both 38, that’s a long shot honey”

Tim chuckled lightly, giving a nod “very true, but just maybe let’s leave it at that ?”. Nothing about moving in with her felt natural, nothing. He liked her a lot but he knew he had rushed things. Everyone had told him it was too soon and that he was only doing it to get over Maya but even they couldn’t stop him from proposing. The second he put the ring on her finger he knew it was a mistake.   

“I just think it’s good to talk about it because though you know I wouldn’t ever create an oopsie situation, it can still be a what if” Emily explained “Plus you told me at the beginning of us that you wouldn’t mind one, just one”   

“I said that almost a year ago, things and people change. Right now what matters to me is my career and your career and doing our own thing” he explains

“Wrestling won’t last forever Tim” she says softly “I know you plan on doing it for as long as you can which is great but we both know realistically it’s a good 5 years left before you have to call it quits for good. You should think about life beyond the ring, when it’s all done for good and you don’t have to put your body at risk every single day taking all those hits. I mean, do you ever think about that ?” “Clearly I do if we’re moving in together Emily '' he let out a little more dry than he had intended. It was one thing get on him about stupid shit like him leaving a plate out on the counter or leaving a damp towel on the sink but his job ? No way in hell he’d ever let anyone try to tell him what to do about his career.   

Emily sighed “Tim, I didn’t mean it like that at all okay ? I just meant it in the sense that there’s life after wrestling, a chance-”   

“I’ve heard enough” Tim said shortly “I um I gotta go, I’m late for some stuff down at the performance center. I’ll see you tonight”  he leaned over and kissed her forehead leaving   

He put his bag down in the locker room as he got ready and nodded at Oney “You look all sunburnt, were you at the beach ?”   

“Maya’s” he answered, lacing up his shoes “She had a small get together yesterday on a boat to celebrate her 26th birthday. The sun got the best of us” Oney chuckled   

“It was her birthday yesterday ?” Tim asked changing his tone

“Not yesterday exactly” Oney shook his head “It’s this Saturday but we celebrated it early since we’ve got that pay per view to get ready for , it was why I couldn’t go to dinner with you and Emily. I went to Marcel’s because he was surprising her with that and you know she’s grown to be like a sister to me, I couldn’t miss it”  Tim simply nodded, how was it that already a year had passed by ? How was it that he didn’t even know her birthday ? “How is she ?” he finally asked

“She’s good, doing really well” Oney nodded “You know her and Marcel are just still boyfriend and girlfriend, not engaged or moved in like you and Emily. But I mean in a way you two are alike, you both just had your one year come up”

“She and Marcel aren’t like Emily and I” he shook his head. “That's comparing apples to oranges man, two totally different things. Why even bring that up ?

“Because it’s clear you still like her, do you ?”

“Yes.” Tim answered

Oney sighed, shaking his head “Then why are you engaged and moving in with this woman ? Why did you fuck up so badly ?” “I don’t know and I’ll never know” he shrugged as he left the room and stretched in the ring. All great questions he had no answers for. ******  Maya sat as she rubbed her forehead and sipped her water on the couch “Baby do you mind getting me some tylenol ?”   

“Let me guess, once again didn’t eat anything but an iced coffee all day ?” he chuckled handing her two pills and sitting next to her  

 “Haha very funny” she rolled her eyes, taking them “Just feel tired, I’ve been working back to back and it’s getting to me is all”   

Marcel shook his head and sighed “You’ve been so out of it lately, we went to dinner last week and you fell asleep on the ride there, I’m getting concerned Maya”

She held his hand and scooted onto his lap kissing him “I”m fine, just work is a lot lately. I just gotta get it together is all, schedule things out better. Plus, I still have energy for plenty of things you know. Loads of them actually…”   

“I like that” he caressed her cheek leaning to kiss her and groaning as he heard the doorbell “That would be Johnny and Candice who you invited for a swim”  “I know” she giggled as she got up “deal with your blue balls somewhere else while I show them around”. Maya got up and shook off the slight dizziness she had going to the door “Hey guys” she smiled “Come on in”  

 “Jesus you said house not mini mansion” Johnny said as he barged in and put the cupcakes on the table “Damn Maya, is this what taking off your clothes pays for, because I might just change careers”  

 Candice shook her head as she gave her a hug “You know how he is, thanks for having us over before the week gets a bit chaotic. I feel like I rarely get to see you because of how busy you are, how are things ?”   

Maya grinned and took her to her backyard and sat with her “Things have been great truly, work is great and well as you can see things with Marcel are also still amazing. He’s here a lot but we don’t live together or anything like that” she admits taking a sip of her water “I see in your face you’ve got this look, like you wanna tell me something but you’re holding back”  

 She looked up and grinned as Johnny sat in the middle of them taking a piece of cheese from the charcuterie board and chewed “So did you hear Tim’s engaged to that one Emily chick ? I mean she’s pretty but she’s not as pretty as you and she has a boring job not cool like modeling. She’s a high school teacher ,math teacher or something dumb like that, and I heard from Eli that she’s his age so you know old and apparently they moved in-”

“Johnny !” Candice exclaimed with wide eyes as she moved her eyes in her direction

“Wh-what ?” Maya said softly “I-I had no idea, I haven’t seen him since um that night at EVE but it’s been a year, come on guys. There’s no need to tiptoe around things, that’s in the past and good for him. He deserves happiness as we all do, really Candice it’s not a big deal”   Lies all fucking lies she thought to herself, nothing but lies. Yes it was a big fucking deal, how the hell wouldn’t it be ?. What in the absolute fuck did she miss out on in a whole year ? She was having success, her relationship with Marcel was perfect yet her heart still fluttered hearing Tim’s name. Not only was he dating someone but he was engaged, engaged.   “Sorry” Johnny apologized as he put his drink down “I thought you knew since you seem to know everyone, I thought Oney had mentioned it or Alli”    “It’s fine Johnny” she grinned weakly “Really it is, there’s nothing you need to say sorry for at all truly. People are allowed to move on, I mean we never even dated. It’s nothing at all, look Marcel’s on his way out let’s get in before the sun goes down”  “I got you a little surprise” Marcel grinned, oblivious to what had just occurred. He smiled and put down the box in his arms “I know you said no gifts but I thought this one would be great for you” With a confused look Maya stood up and  grinned , walking towards the box and opening it slowly, smiling wide as she pulled out a golden doodle puppy “OH MY GOD YOU REMEMBERED !” She quickly kissed the pup and jumped in his arms. For the last 6 months, she had been going on and on about how she was ready for a dog and wanted one so badly yet Marcel seemed off to the idea and kept saying how they were way too much work and not even all that cute. Now she understood why, and her heart swelled in size.   “I searched and searched the entire state of Florida for this little guy” Marcel smiled. “He's about 8 weeks old, and when I saw him I knew he was perfect for you...for us. But he needs a name, any ideas ?”    “Biggie” Maya smiled “As in Biggie Smalls ?” he laughed   “Exactly that.” Marcel smiled as he put his arm around her and pulled her in for a side hug “You, me and Biggie”. He kissed her head as he pet their pup’s head and smiled, though far off and not entirely true it felt as if they were family already. Just them and their puppy, together and happy.   

The rest of the night was enjoyable as she sat and listened to them talk about the big pay per view that was coming up, everyone going on and on about certain feuds and matches. She turned and looked at Marcel who was in mid conversation with Fabian, sending him a wink as she got up and headed inside using the excuse she needed to answer an important phone call. Like clockwork she heard the screen door lock shut and laughed “It’s that easy huh ?”   

“You’re the one who gave me a wink” he answered with a crimson face “I-I assumed, I...I didn’t mean to”   “You assumed right” she grabbed his shirt and pulled him to her as she took them into the guest bathroom “we have 10 minutes max before someone realizes we’re missing so make it last”  

 Without losing any time Marcel lifted her onto the sink and slid off her shorts, rubbing at her core as he licked his lips “fuck you feel so wet already” he whispered getting a moan in response from her

“You talk entirely too much” she kissed him ,leaning her head back against the cabinet mirror gripping the back of his neck with her hands as she bit her lip to keep quiet   

“Fuck Maya” he mumbled as he began thrust in and out “you always feel so fucking good”

She whimpered in response “Baby….Baby please”

“You like that, I know you do” Marcel pumped into her with force, nuzzling his face in her neck as he did his best to keep his moans low, tightening his grip on her hips   

“I...wow” Maya panted as they finished, him still inside of her as she looked into his eyes “You do things to me you know, lots of things”

“And I always will” Marcel grinned as he wiped his forehead and kissed her lips softly “as long as you let me” “You’re so corny, you go out first so no one assumes” she chuckled as she closed the door and fixed her makeup. She opened a drawer to look for a brush, sighing as she picked up her birth control packet that had fallen.“Every time” Maya muttered as she put it away, feeling it slightly heavier than usual and opening the pack. With a shaky breath she slipped the packet out of the sleeve and widened her eyes when she saw 7 days of pills still in their spot, she had missed a whole week of birth control in the last month ***** “Would you just tell me what’s going on ?” Tim asked as he sat on the couch with Emily “it’s been a week and you’ve been quiet, you even missed a day of work which you never do. What on earth can be going on that has you like this ?”   

“Tim…” Emily spoke, her voice small and meek “Please don’t be mad at me, please. I...I went to the doctor for those headaches and fatigue and she-she had me to a blood and urine test and told me....she told me I’m pregnant. I told her it had to be a mistake, I have a patch and we use condoms, but she said it’s only 90% effective and there’s always a possibility especially since my ovaries release eggs during ovulation and well...I’m 9 weeks pregnant” she cried

 His eyes widened as he leaned back into the couch, feeling the air leave his lungs as he tried his absolute hardest to stop from dry heaving. He sat, rubbing his palms on his thighs and nodded over and again trying to convince himself things would be okay.   

“Then you’re pregnant and that’s that, accidents happen” he said softly as he scooted closer to her and held her hand in his sweaty one “Was this what we wanted ? No. But it’s what we’re dealing with and no matter what I’m here for you Em. I...I….I love you”   

“I love you so so much” Emily hugged him as she sniffled “I never ever meant for this to happen Tim, I swear to you. I’m so scared” she sobbed into his shoulder   Tim rubbed her back and sighed “It’s gonna be okay. We’re both adults here and this is something like the doctor said could always happen. I’m with you all this way, no matter what, but I must ask” he sits up and looks at her as he peels away from their hug “D-do you wanna keep this baby ?”

“I do” she whispered “I do, and you don’t need to stay with me. You don’t even need to help I can do this all on my own”   

He gulped taking her words in as he looked in her eyes, begging for her to just push him away and say she wants him out of her life but she didn’t. She wanted to keep this child and no matter what he was gonna stick by her whether he loved her or not. *****

  Maya looked up at Marcel as they waited at the doctors office, nerves eating up at her as she squeezed his hand in her lap. Immediately after everyone had left that day she sat him down and told him she had forgotten to take her birth control for a week and had reminded him they never used condoms. Just like she had assumed he was calm and collected and assured her he’d be with her no matter what and that he loved her. She broke down in tears that night on his lap crying until she passed out from exhaustion, when she woke up she found herself in bed with him. Now here they were one week later waiting to do some tests to get official answers, they had both agreed it’d be best to get answers from a doctor rather than a test at the pharmacy.  

 She stood up as her name was called and walked in with him, doing the usual routine with blood pressure and weight and finally getting her blood drawn and completing a urine test for them. The minutes seemed like hours as she sat in Marcel’s lap for comfort leaning her head over his.

  “I’m scared” Maya whispered looking in his eyes ``What if I am and it ends like…like how it did when I was 20 ?” she finally says

 “It’s different times” Marcel assured “6 years ago you were a kid with lots of stress that caused that to happen, now it’s different. And if you are, nothing bad is gonna happen. And if you aren’t, then we can go from there” he kissed her forehead. More than anything he wanted her to be okay, for them to be okay and just put that past life behind them completely.  

 Maya nodded and pressed her forehead to his, jumping up when she heard the door open and doctor come in

  “A-am I pregnant ?” she whispered quickly

“No” the doctor said softly “You are not, your tests all came back negative, what you do have to look out for is your severe dehydration levels. Other than that you’re in great health, and to be safe I’d stay off sexual activity until you can start a new month of birth control, and please use protection” she grinned

  “Oh my gosh” Maya let out a sigh of relief as she watched his face go back to its normal color “Thank you so so much”

 “It’s your life and your choices miss” she grinned “No matter what, I’m here to guide advice for whatever you need health related.”   

Maya let out a nervous laugh as she held hands with Marcel and walked out of the office, giggling when he spun her around in his arms

  “I love kids and can’t wait to have the, but this just wasn’t the right time” Marcel said softly as he kissed her “But our time will come soon, really soon”

“Sooner than later” she smiled as he set her down and walked down the hall with him, pressing the elevator button. She hummed happily as it dinged, gulping as it opened revealing Tim hand in hand with who she supposed was Emily with a barely there baby bump. She was sure she was gonna pass out had it not been for Marcel’s hand on her back.

  “Hi” Maya said softly, being the first to speak out of the 4 “Long time to no see”   

Tim stood speechless as he stared at her, unintentionally slipping his hand out of Emily’s and putting it in his pants pocket. He could’ve sworn he saw stars at one point from how dazed he felt seeing her in person for the first time in over a year.

“Hey” he finally said in response “um hey, this-this is...this is-”

“Emily” she spoke up quietly

“Emily yes, yes” Tim nodded “Um this is Emily my fiance, Emily this Maya and Marcel my...my…”

“Friends” Marcel grinned “So nice to meet you” he shook her hand gently “and um congratulations of course, what a beautiful thing”

 “Oh thank you” Emily smiled “Just here for our 14 week appointment, making sure all is well. You guys...are you guys expecting too ? Gosh that’s extremely invasive of me, I’m sorry I just assumed since this is the OBGYN side of the hospital and you two are together” she said softly turning red with embarrassment

“Nah you’re good” Maya shook her head “Just had a scare because I forgot to take my pill for a week and apparently the idea of condoms never came to my dumb ass brain that was too busy thinking about getting laid, but no babies in this uterus thank god” she tried to joke much to Tim and Emily’s wide eyes, Marcel being the only one laughing with her 

 “Alright tough crowd” she muttered to herself as she went through the middle of them into the elevator “But I wish you well, babies are super cute and stuff”

Emily grinned at her “You’re the sweetest, thank you ! Maya right ? Were you in a spread in Cosmo last month ? With the neon bikini in the pool for the safe sex while on vacation side ?

  Maya chuckled darkly.  She knew it was a dig, a sad attempt at one at least. “That’s me, that’s definitely me ! Got 20k for that spread, put a downpayment on a home with that shoot. I also did Maxim and got on the cover of that, I’m in Zara as well on a 10 foot poster right as you enter their store, and I just did a Victoria Secret ad that’s gonna be in every single mall in the states and that alone is probably gonna pay off my entire mortgage. You know, I did it once before in college and it paid off all my student loans too” she smiled “Now what is it that you do...M’am ?”

 Tim’s eyes widened as he watched the verbal drag go on, part of him knew he should’ve stepped in but he was too in shock to do a thing. “She’s a teacher” he answered sternly “A high school math teacher”

  “Still have those loans, but I love what I do” Emily nodded “It’s done for the love, not for the money” she hit back

“Aww” Maya put her hands to her heart “I remember when I used to say that too, I wanted to be a teacher so bad when I was teensy” she grinned “Then I realized how all teachers grew up to be nothing but bitter divorcees who thrive on making children’s lives miserable all whilst teaching pointless things like the Pythagorean theorem. Oh wait , that’s you ! My bad, my bad”

Marcel chuckled quietly as he bit the inside of his lip and moved his arm around her waist “We must go now, um congratulations on your child once again. Health and happiness for you both”. He smirked as he closed the elevator door and shook his head

  “Too far ?” Maya asked

“Just enough to piss her off” he answered back with a grin   Maya chuckled and looked down at her heels, trying to hide the disappointed in her face.

[themusicplayedherlife]

Only a Drink

Fire Meet Gasoline

pairing: dick grayson x pyro!meta-human!reader

characters: dick grayson; reader; oc friends; mentions of dinah lance and oliver queen

word count: 1.4k+

warnings: angst, drinking, allusions to sex

a/n: this was supposed to be a sexy/angsty story based on don’t by loco and hawasa but my mind turned this into something completely different lol this is an installment for a Drabble series. drabbles/stories will be posted out of order but will be chronological on the masterlist—requesting for this couple will be much appreciated

It’s only a drink, you tell your college friends, ignoring their wolfish smiles and the suggestive words they tease you with. You roll your eyes, taking a sip of the drink the waitress had placed in front of you moments ago with a smile and a glance at the man sitting at the bar. You had tilted your glass in his direction and continued on with your friends like he wasn't there. But they couldn’t let it go (and neither could you).

“He’s obviously been watching you for a while if he was able to pick out your favorite poison,” your friend says, dark eyes gleaming with mirth that only grows when you briefly meet her gaze before looking away from her. Your eyes fly across the room, and you try your best to not meet his gaze from across the room, pretending to find the bottles on display behind the bartender interesting. “I say you go and thank him for the drink.”

“I already did,” you murmur, knowing the music playing in the bar would drown you out, but your friend sitting next to you laughs, having heard you perfectly.

“Properly,” she says, loud enough for Sareena to hear. “I usually wouldn’t entertain the thought of sending any of you off to a strange man to thank him for a drink, but he’s really hot.” Alani bites her lips, nudging your side with her elbow playfully. “He’s the exception.”

Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s gorgeous with raven locks swooping over his forehead; blue eyes that glimmer even in the darkness of the club; boyish, charming smiles that he flashes in your direction when he catches you staring. He’s flourished, grown into Bruce Wayne’s eldest and charming son, the one who would take after his adoptive father’s playboy image and maybe even the company, if he wanted it. But he didn’t, not fully. He didn’t become the younger version of Bruce Wayne like everyone expected. No. He grew into Dick Grayson, a man all of his own. A police officer at Bludhaven, working his way up to Detective, much to the dismay of the many socialites that would try to win his favor.

You were one of the few that had gotten the privilege of watching him grow. You wish you hadn’t been, maybe then you wouldn’t feel the way you do. Maybe then he’d be easier to let go.

“Fine,” you mumble, finally standing on your feet with the same drink in your hands, ignoring the hollering of your friends.

He watches you, blue eyes dancing under the amber glow of the bar’s lighting. They’re captivating, hypnotic, and you resist the urge to run to his side like when you were children.

“Dick,” his name falls from your lips dryly; the smile on his face grows. 

“Sweetheart,” he answers easily, that sweet teasing voice of his the same as ever. He rests his cheek on his propped arm on the bar top, eyeing you carefully.

You swish the amber liquid in the small crystallized glass. “Thanks for the drink.”

“I owed you one.” He owes you much more than just one drink, you want to tell him, but instead you swallow the sour taste on your tongue and smile. “Join me?” His eyes flash with something hopeful, barely wavering under your slowly forming frown. “I just--its been a while you know? Since we’ve had the chance to be together.” Its a poor choice of words and he knows it, but he sticks to them, only looking away briefly to regain whatever composure he was trying to maintain.

Your breath catches in your throat as you register that familiar underlying tone in his voice. It’s heart wrenching—god, of course that’s what he wants. It’s all he’s ever wanted from you. Just one night. “I don’t know,” you pause to bite your lip. “I’m with my friends.” You gesture to them, who at least have some decency to pretend to be looking at anything but you two. 

He chuckles, pools of blue locking you in place, refusing to let go of their hold on you, instead they drag you into their depth, threatening to drown you the longer you stay. That’s your third mistake of the night—staying. The first having been accepting the drink and the second having been walking over to him. “Doesn’t seem like they mind it.”

Your fourth mistake is rolling your eyes and settling on the stool beside him, ignoring the alarms going off in your head. He did that to you often, blindsiding you without trying to. “They could’ve been sending me off to a murderer and they wouldn’t have cared.”

His smile is crooked, lopsided, completely boyish—and proud, knowing that you’re capable of burning a man to a crisp if you really wanted to. He’s always been a fan of you--of your powers. “Good thing you can handle your own.”

“Good thing.” You hide your own smile by taking a sip of your drink. “What brings you back to Gotham?” You’d heard from the girls that he’s still moving between Bludhaven and Gotham, not completely able to give up the city he grew up in—or someone.

“Visiting Bruce and the rest of the family,” he answers simply, not divulging more information like he once would.

“How are they?” you ask out of courtesy, but unlike you and Dick avoiding each other, Bruce and Tim visit you occasionally at your studio, the two more often than not trying to recruit you. Sometimes Alfred stops by as well, dropping off meals he’d think you’d enjoy and scolds you if you’re not cooking proper meals for yourself.

Ollie likes to joke that it sometimes seems like they’re the ones that adopted you, not him and Dinah.

“The same as always,” he says tilting his head to your almost empty glass, raising an eyebrow as if to offer you another drink, you ignore it. “Bruce told me he spoke to you the other night.” He takes a sip of his own drink. “Said he’s trying to recruit you?”

You lean away from him and finish the last bit of the amber liquid in your glass, and hum. “Thinks I’m a good fit for Wayne Enterprises.”

“And you don’t think so?”

“Oh no, I do.” You scoff and he laughs. “But I’m weighing my options. I may not be living in Star City currently, but I still have Queen Industries to think about.”

“When did you become so calculating?” His voice is teasing, and you know he doesn’t mean it like an insult, but you bristle anyway. He should know why you’ve become so careful, so “calculating” as he put it. 

Resentment finds root in your stomach as your eyes narrow, focusing on the colorful bottles in the back seemingly glowing under the candle like lighting, refusing to meet his gaze once more. “I’ve learned not to get ahead of myself anymore, learned to not risk my heart or future.” You cross your arms over your chest, nails digging into your skin. “If I can avoid the disappointment and the hurt when things don’t work out or shit hits the fan, I’ll gladly take being calculating over reckless any day.”

It’s a vague jab, but he knows—he knows you’re talking about him, because his smile falls from his handsome face and his knuckles turn white around the glass as he looks away from you for the first time since you sat down.

It’s scary. How you two can sit here after all the hurt and the pain, pretend like nothing happened, pretend you’re friends all over again, but as soon as you bring it up, you both shut down; refuse to acknowledge the elephant in the room, refuse to dredge up old feelings he decided to trash and bury.

You’ve never been good at communicating.

You trace the rim of the glass and sigh softly, all the energy you held on to escaping you with that simple exhale. Your core of fire extinguishing like if it were nothing, as if it isn’t a part of you. And maybe it hasn’t been. Not for a long time. “It’s just a drink,” you murmur, repeating your words from earlier. “But it’s never been just one drink with us, has it? One night, a drink too many.”

He doesn’t say anything, its not like you expected him to. He just sits there, jaw clenched, once glowing blue eyes dull and dark and refusing to look at you--just like that night. 

You gently push the glass away from you and you hop off of the stool. “Send Barbara my regards.” And you walk away, leave your friends behind and Dick alone, never looking back, knowing he won’t come after you. Knowing he had made his choice that fateful night a year ago when he left you alone in the middle of the night, your tears soaking your pillowcase after pouring your heart out.

He left and you let him.

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3.

Chapter 39: Tim

Of course they don’t believe it. Of course they don’t. Setting aside the fact that Elias Bouchard is a rat bastard who lies like a cheap rug, never mind that Sasha’s attempt to call failed (and it’s not just hers, or just a one-off thing; Martin and Tim both try. Twice), they don’t believe the message because both Tim and Martin know, with a certainty that has nothing to do with the Eye and everything to do with the last several months, that Jon would never go out of town on an errand without letting them know first. He would at least call them to say he was leaving.

Jon Prime assures them that it’s probably fine. Well, maybe assures is the wrong word. He tells them that it’s probably fine, but he sounds uncertain and Tim doesn’t believe him either. They don’t ask what could be going on, not at first; as Martin Prime said, this isn’t the Primes’ story anymore and asking what happened to you is unproductive. The best they can do is put their heads down, plunge ahead with work, and hope.

That lasts about three days.

On Friday afternoon, Sasha comes back from lunch with a funny look on her face and something cradled in her hands, which she sets wordlessly on Tim’s desk. It’s a phone, cracked and battered, looking like it’s been dropped and run over a couple of times. Martin manages to turn it on, and they’re greeted with a cracked, warped picture of two men and a little boy staring raptly at the sky, all three of them utterly content despite everything life has thrown at them. They stare at it for a couple seconds before the phone fizzles and shuts off with a final-sounding pop.

Hope dies with Jon’s phone, and Tim shuts down a little. He spends the rest of the day looking at Gertrude’s tapes, squinting fiercely at them, drawing on every scrap of power he can, trying desperately to see through the green to the colors beneath. The best he’s able to do is sort them into piles that are sort of the same color blend, and it leaves him shaky, drained, and irritable. That night he sits up at the kitchen table with the box of Gertrude’s books they’ve never actually gone through and carefully, methodically, sorts them out. He tries to look at them, too, the way he did the tapes, but either he’s too tired or they don’t actually have anything of any of the powers on them. Instead, he begins going through them, one at a time, notebook and tape recorder set up in front of him as he jots down observations, notes, anything that might be helpful.

He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, other than the generic “answers”. Something that might provide a lead to where Jon is, he guesses, even though in the back of his mind he can’t imagine why something like that would be in something belonging to Gertrude Robinson. Maybe there’s a part of him that suspects Jon is off on some madcap adventure, that he dropped his phone like Tim forgot his, and that if they can only find a clue to where he is they’ll be able to find him and get him home.

He’s at it all weekend, and by Monday, he’s frustrated and angry about the lack of answers. When Sasha asks him why there are fifteen piles of tapes instead of only fourteen, he snaps at her and can’t bring himself to apologize for his tone as he tells her that the fifteenth is the ones he isn’t sure about, the ones he can’t tell the underneath color of.

Sasha doesn’t react to his tone. She simply shrugs, points at the Document Storage room, and tells him to go listen to some of them then.

Tim is annoyed with her, at first, but three tapes later he realizes he’s stopped shaking. He’s still upset, but he’s not so angry, and he’s definitely feeling a bit stronger than before. It’s only then that it occurs to him how much energy he’s been using. And it’s not until he comes out, ready to apologize for his temper, that he realizes how pale and drawn Martin looks and it occurs to him that he hasn’t slept since Friday. Which, apparently, means Martin hasn’t either.

Martin confirms as much that night, while he’s making tea for them both (Tim only realizes then he’s been drinking Martin’s tea all weekend without even noticing). He says he’s tried, a couple of times, but he can’t seem to rest for worrying, both about Jon and about Tim, which makes him feel horrible. Tim actually goes to bed that night instead of working himself to exhaustion over the books, and he and Martin both manage to get some rest even though they’re both horribly conscious of the fact that there’s something—someone—missing from their bed.

It’s not until almost lunchtime on Tuesday that the little voice in the back of Tim’s brain asks him when it became their bed rather than his bed.

After that, he tries to get back to work, tries to buckle down to doing their duty—Jon will be back, he tells himself, and they’ve got to keep things moving for him—but he’s distracted, and from the way Martin’s eyes keep drifting to Jon’s closed office door, he knows Martin feels the same. And while they’re trying to talk about it, they’re both still tense.

By the time Jon’s been gone almost two full weeks, Tim decides he’s had enough. He glances at the clock on the corner of his laptop, then shuts it with a snap that startles the other two and pushes back from his desk.

“I can’t stand this,” he says, barely controlling his tone. “I’m going to run this down.”

Martin seems to understand. He closes his own laptop. “I’m coming with you.”

“Martin—”

“No. I’ve been—I need to know, too. And I need to hear it directly, I think. Otherwise—” Martin shakes his head.

Tim thinks he understands what Martin isn’t saying. “Sasha, can you hold things down up here?”

Sasha nods, her eyes sympathetic. Tim manages a half-smile, then heads over to the trapdoor.

The Primes are in the middle of eating—probably breakfast, given their odd sleep schedule—but Jon Prime looks up when the light of Martin’s torch plays through the door and sets aside his plate. “Tim. Martin. Any word?”

“No. Nothing.” Tim hesitates, trying to figure out how to phrase it, or even what it is he’s there to ask.

Martin beats him to it. “We were hoping you could tell us where he is.”

“I don’t—I can’t be sure,” Jon Prime says gently. “Things aren’t—”

“No, we’re not asking where you were this time around,” Martin says, unusually to the point for once, which either shows how comfortable he’s grown with them all or how absolutely stressed and terrified he is. “We’re asking if you can—Know where he is.”

“Oh,” Jon Prime says softly.

Martin keeps talking, words tumbling out almost desperately. “We’ve been—we were trying to figure it out, if, if he left on his own after all and just dropped his phone, maybe if there was some clue. But there’s nothing. Sasha tried to Know—”

“When?” Tim asks, surprised.

“Yesterday, when you were picking up lunch. But she couldn’t find him. She’s not sure if it’s just because it’s the wrong kind of Knowing or if it’s because she’s not strong enough or what, but—” Martin gestures helplessly with both hands, making the torchlight bob about. “It’s been two weeks. And we can’t—we need to know if he’s okay.”

Martin Prime touches Jon Prime’s shoulder gently. “I think he’ll forgive you for looking, Jon. I know you’re trying not to, but…if it was me, I’d want to know you were okay. Remember…” His face darkens slightly.

Jon Prime turns and hugs Martin Prime tightly, and Tim’s stomach lurches. He remembers the day after Jane Prentiss’ attack, when the Primes gave them the basic rundown of everything that happened to them—remembers Jon Prime mentioning being kidnapped and held prisoner by Nikola Orsinov. Could that…? No. No, he can’t let himself imagine…

Oh, God, Jon’s been kidnapped.

The thought must hit Martin at the same time, because he reaches over and grips Tim’s hand tightly. Tim squeezes back as hard as he can. It seems like an eternity before Jon Prime whispers, “All right. All right.”

He eases back from Martin Prime, straightens up, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. Static fills the little room, softly at first, then louder and louder. Tim isn’t trying to look, he isn’t, but apparently the Eye’s power is too strong with Jon Prime calling on it like this, because he sees the glow, Jon Prime’s closed eyes and a third eye on his forehead and another on the back of each hand, all glowing green, faintly at first, then a bit stronger. Not as strong as Tim might have expected if he’d been expecting it at all, but bright anyway.

Jon Prime’s eyebrows knit in a frown. The static fizzles out, the glow fades, and when Jon Prime opens his eyes, they’re perfectly normal, if worried. “I can’t See him.”

“The tunnels—” Martin Prime begins, his own expression worried.

“Make it more difficult, but not impossible. And I’m a bit…hungry, I suppose, so that might—but I should at least be able to see something.” Jon Prime looks up at Tim and Martin. “He’s not dead. I’d Know that. But—but I don’t have anything more than that. I’m sorry.”

Martin makes a small sound of distress, then screws his face up tightly for a moment before huffing out a sigh and squaring his shoulders. His eyes are wet when he opens them. “But you know—he’s been kidnapped, hasn’t he. Orsinov’s got him.” It’s not a question.

“I—I don’t know that for sure,” Jon Prime stammers. “I—it’s possible, but I—but we can’t know that for sure. Not right now.”

“F-fine. Fine! We don’t know, but we’re pretty sure, right? So—so where would she be holding him?”

“I told you, I can’t—”

“I’m not asking you to use the Eye! I’m asking where she was holding you.”

Jon Prime inhales sharply, but Martin Prime wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls him close and answers first. “What could you do with that knowledge, Martin? The police aren’t going to do a raid based on your say-so. Not so soon after the Brodie operation, not with so little to go on. Not for a missing adult. Especially if Elias has a good story to spin them about where he is.”

Martin sputters. Tim clenches his jaw. “Yeah, but we can go after him.”

“No!” the Primes shout in near-unison. Tim and Martin both jerk back in surprise.

“First of all, we don’t know for sure that’s where he is, or who has him,” Jon Prime says, a bit more calmly. “If you walk into the Stranger’s domain and he’s not there, what then? You’ve tipped your hand, again, that you know where they are. The Unknowing isn’t going to be ready for another five months, and where I was held was where they planned to do it. Gertrude had a—a reputation for stopping rituals, by the end, so the Stranger might move the site to somewhere else, and it might be harder to find.”

“And that’s assuming,” Martin Prime adds sharply, “that they let you leave at all. You’ve managed to escape them twice, Tim, there’s no way they’ll let you walk away a third time unchallenged. And if the Not-Diana left the memory of the original Diana in your mind, Martin, you’re marked by the Stranger, too. It’s going to be that much harder for you to get in unnoticed, let alone get out unnoticed, especially not with the Archivist. If he’s there.”

“We’ve got to try,” Martin says angrily. “We can’t just let him suffer because—”

“You think he’ll suffer less if you get hurt? Or killed?” Martin Prime interrupts. “And—okay, fine, say you don’t. Say you get in and out unscathed. If he’s not there, you really think they’ll risk holding him for another five months? They’ll kill him then and there rather than risk you finding him and disrupting her plans for the Unknowing.”

“Martin,” Jon Prime says, sounding pained. He lays a hand on Martin Prime’s arm, but Martin Prime shrugs him off.

“Do you honestly think I don’t know how much it hurts?” Martin Prime’s voice cracks at that. “What it’s like not knowing where he is but knowing he’s probably in danger and you can’t do anything about it? You think I wouldn’t have given everything to know where to find him? But if you’re wrong and he dies, I know what it’ll do to you.”

Jon Prime wraps his arms around Martin Prime; Martin Prime resists for a moment, then slumps and clings to Jon Prime in return. Tim, slightly numb and feeling like the bottom has dropped out of his stomach, sees a few tears squeeze their way out of the corners of Martin Prime’s eyes.

He’s not wrong, that’s the hell of it. As badly as Tim wants to storm…wherever it is, as much as he desperately wants Jon to come home, he knows Martin Prime is right. They can’t risk putting Jon in danger by going to the wrong place to rescue him, and the Stranger is probably almost as bad as the Spiral about misdirection and concealment. Until they’re sure, or as close to sure as they can be, they can’t chance it. And more than that, Tim knows he can’t risk putting Martin in danger. He hadn’t thought about Martin being marked by the Stranger, but now that the thought’s in his mind…he refuses to lose anyone else to that thing. Refuses. Scylla and Charybdis for sure.

“At least wait until we’re sure,” Jon Prime says. He looks over at Tim and Martin, and Tim can see how much pain he’s in, how utterly scared he is. He knows, more than the rest of them, what Jon might be going through and he probably feels it down to his toes, as much as he feels their pain. And that’s assuming the Eye isn’t channeling all their fear through him also. “Once the Institute is closed for the weekend. Maybe I can get better…reception aboveground, in the Archives, closer to the Eye. Consume a statement or two or something, but—please. Don’t risk it until we know exactly where he is.”

Tim looks over at Martin, sees the conflicted look and the suspiciously wet brightness in his eyes, his lips pressed tightly together in an evident bid to stop them from shaking. He’s going to follow Martin’s lead on this one. Martin stares at the Primes for a long moment, then nods once and hisses out a single word. “Fine.”

“Okay,” Jon Prime says softly. “Okay.” He closes his eyes and drops his head onto Martin Prime’s shoulder.

“We’ll see you after hours then,” Tim manages. He reaches for Martin’s arm, but Martin jerks away and simply leads the way out of the tunnels without speaking. He’s pale and shaking and way more upset than even Tim would expect, even knowing how Martin feels about Jon, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

Sasha looks up when they come out of the trapdoor, but evidently they don’t need to say anything, because a series of emotions plays over her face and her shoulders slump. Tim shakes his head anyway. Martin stops at his desk long enough to set the heavy-duty torch on it. “I need to—I’ll be back.”

“Martin—” Tim’s heart seizes. He grabs Martin’s arm, fear coursing through him. He let Jon go out alone and Jon—

“I’m not leaving the building, Tim, I just—I need to walk for a minute.” Martin looks at him and his face softens. He squeezes Tim’s arm with his other hand before removing it from his own. “I promise. Not going outside.”

“Okay,” Tim says softly. “I’ll wait for you.”

As soon as Martin leaves, Tim drops to his seat and sighs. “They’re not sure where he is. Jon Prime said he’d come up after we close and see what he can do.”

Sasha glances at her computer. “That won’t be long.”

The door to the Archives opens, and Tim looks up, preparing to try and tease Martin about his short walk. It’s not Martin who comes in, though, but Basira. She raises an eyebrow at Sasha. “Hey. What’s with your friend?”

“Martin? He’s…it’s a long story.” Sasha gestures at Jon’s closed office door. “Jon’s been missing for a couple weeks now.”

“Hm. Wouldn’t have figured him for the flaky type.” Basira slips her hands into her pockets. “Came to see if you wanted to grab a drink. Been a hell of a week.”

“You, too, huh?” Sasha glances hesitantly at Tim. “I’d love to, but you mind waiting a bit? We’re technically here another twenty minutes.”

“Nah, you go ahead,” Tim tells her. “Martin and I can close down here. Take some time. You deserve it.”

Basira grunts. “You think he’ll be back in time? Where’s he heading?”

Tim rubs his forehead. “Probably up to the library to torture himself by dealing with the Not-Diana. I love him, but he’s so damn prone to punishing himself for things he doesn’t need to.”

Sasha gives Tim a funny look that he’s too tired and stressed to really parse out, but only says, “If you’re sure. Might want to make sure those kids are out of here by closing time if the others are coming up.”

“What—oh, right.” Tim honestly forgot about the pair of students back in the stacks doing research for some joint project. They first came the day before, but several of the cases they need are on tape and one or two of them are live statements; Tim keeps meaning to do transcripts of those, but hasn’t got around to it yet. They’ve been so quiet he honestly hasn’t thought about them since they walked in earlier that afternoon. “Didn’t realize they were still here, but yeah, don’t worry. Have fun.”

“Sure. Have a good weekend, Tim.” Sasha pats his shoulder, shrugs into her jacket, and heads out the door with Basira. Tim watches them go, glad Sasha has a friend, then heads back into the shelves looking for the students.

They’re not hard to find, seated at one of the tables tucked in an odd bend in the Archives, which is scattered with books, papers, and a small stack of cassette tapes. Sitting on the table between them is a battered white plastic tape player that looks exactly like the one Tim had when he was three—rounded at the edges, with a soft rubber grip at the handle, brightly-colored buttons on top, and two tiny microphones with coiled cords, one on either side. Plugged into the headphone jack is an adapter, then a splitter, then two pairs of headphones leading to the two students, who are listening intently and alternately scribbling in a notebook they’re passing back and forth.

One of them looks up and spots Tim coming closer, then pokes the other and points at him. The other sees Tim and hits the big red button on top of the recorder, stopping the playback with a loud CLUNK.

“Getting close to closing time, guys,” Tim says.

“Aww, it’s just getting to the good part,” one of them complains with a humorous texture to her voice. Tim’s pretty sure she introduced herself as Helena.

The other one gives him pleading puppy dog eyes. “Can we just finish listening to this tape? I don’t know how much we have left in it, but it’s the last one that—um, Martin—pulled for us. We’re almost done. Please?”

Jaz, Tim remembers. With one Z. He’ll be the first to admit he was a hair distracted when they turned up yesterday, but Jaz is a distinct enough name that it’s stuck in his mind. “Sure, no problem. We can wait around until you’re finished.”

“Thanks.” Jaz flashes him a grin and returns to the notebook. Helena pushes the bright green PLAY button and they go back to listening.

As Tim turns away, he happens to catch a glimpse of the last note in the shared notebook—judging by the color of the ink, Jaz is the one who wrote it. Bet this guy’s as hot as his voice.

He suppresses a smile, even as his heart aches, as he heads back to his desk.

Martin’s still not back, and Sasha didn’t finish putting her files away before she left, so Tim busies himself for a minute neatening everyone’s stacks. After a moment’s thought, he tucks the files into their drawers. It will make things easier in the long run. He hopes.

He packs up his laptop and is about to start on Martin’s when something…twists. It’s the best way he can phrase it. It’s like the worst tinnitus he’s ever had, but outside his head rather than inside his ear, and it makes his head pound. He looks up in time to see a glowing yellow door in the wall suddenly open and Martin comes stumbling out, chased by warped, weirdly echoing laughter that makes the headache worse.

“Tim. Run,” Martin gasps. “We have to—go.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Tim’s stomach lurches, even as his headache subsides.

“The Not-Diana. It’s coming, Tim.”

“This way.” Tim grabs Martin’s arm and starts towards the door leading directly to the grounds, then pulls up short. “Shit. Those kids.”

“Wh—oh, God.” Martin turns pale. “They’re still here?”

Tim takes off in the direction of the two students, Martin hard on his heels. “Jaz! Helena!”

They don’t answer, but Tim rounds the corner just as their tape player shuts off. Jaz pulls off their headphones and looks up. “Oh, hey, we just finished—”

“Time to go,” Tim cuts them off.

“Yeah, just let us pack up—”

“No, now. You can come back and get all this later, but right now, we’ve got to evacuate.”

Helena’s eyebrows go up. “Is there a fire? I didn’t hear the alarm.”

“No, just—” Tim begins.

“Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaartiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin…”

The voice from the direction of the stairs sounds like Diana’s—or at least the Diana Tim remembers, which means it’s the Not-Diana—but distorted, warped. Martin turns, somehow, even paler.

Jaz’s eyes widen. “What the fuck?”

“Yeah, going. Going sounds good.” Helena starts to push back from the table, then stops and mutters something that sounds very much like “Horror Movie 101” before slithering out of her seat and sliding under the table.

“Good girl,” Tim mutters. “Let’s go. Quietly.”

Jaz grabs Helena’s arm as she crawls out from under the table. Tim leads them as quickly and quietly as he can towards the exit. They can probably get there, and if they’re outside, they’ve got a better chance, but down here without cameras, he doesn’t want to risk whatever might happen.

“Maaaaaartiiiiiiiiin,” the Not-Diana sings out again. “Come out, come out, wherever you are…I just want to thank you, that’s all.”

There’s a rustle from up ahead. Tim checks and shoos the others in a different direction, which means Martin is leading now, the two students still between them. Maybe they’ve got a better chance with Martin in the lead, him having lived in the Archives for so long…Tim sincerely hopes that Martin’s still got his mental map of escape routes. Surely he has one.

“It’s okay, Martin, it’s just Diana,” the Not-Diana calls, voice gooey with insincere reassurance. “Kind old Diana. Nothing to be afraid of.”

Helena is muttering under her breath, something Tim can’t quite catch or understand, but it’s probably a mantra or a prayer given the panicked look in her eyes. Martin halts at a gap in the shelves, looks both ways, then indicates for the others to come with him.

“You seem tense, dear.” The Not-Diana’s voice is impossibly close, coming from absolutely the wrong direction to have been where it was before. “You should have a nice cup of tea. You like tea, don’t you? Always the tea.”

They’re at one of the intersections where the shelves branch off, the gap between the nineteenth and twentieth century statements. Martin glances over his shoulder, then points to the left. “Go. That way. Should be able to get out. I’ll draw it off, it’s me it wants—”

“Absolutely not!” Tim hisses through clenched teeth. “I’m not leaving you to that thing—”

“I’m going to wear you, Martin,” the Not Diana calls. Ice water runs down Tim’s spine. “I’m going to wear everything you are. Like you never existed. Nobody will even know. And it will hurt, oh, yes. It hurt Diana.”

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” Jaz whispers, clutching Helena’s arm hard enough it has to hurt.

“Yeah, definitely not leaving you to it now. Come on.” Tim grabs Martin’s arm and drags him with them to the left.

A tall, twisted figure suddenly looms up at the end of the row they’re running down. To Tim’s eyes, it’s bathed in a glow of indigo light, almost bright enough to drown out the green on the shelves around it. “There you are. And you brought friends.”

Helena screams. Tim skids to a halt, pivots, and shoves the other three ahead of him. “Run, run, run!”

Menacing laughter follows them as they try to flee. Tim’s mind whirls as they stumble desperately towards what he hopes is freedom. Diana never comes down to the Archives, unless the Not-Them has been exploring when nobody else is around. It might be at a disadvantage, not knowing the place like they do. Or maybe not. Beholder versus Stranger, the known versus the unknown…something with centuries of experience versus two people with eight months’ worth of knowledge and two university kids who’ve barely scratched the surface of all of this. He honestly can’t say which way this is going to go.

“I’m glad we’re getting to run, Martin,” the Not-Diana says. “It makes this so much more…satisfying.”

Document Storage is up ahead, but Tim’s not about to lead them in there; if that thing follows them, they’ll be trapped in there, and it kills Martin. Of course, it’s perfectly possible, even logical, that it will kill Tim and the two students too, but he’s not sure if it would feel worse to have to watch it tear Martin to pieces and then live with that for the rest of his life. Actually, screw that, he knows that will be infinitely worse and he isn’t going to risk it. Instead, he steers them towards the steps. It’s not optimal, he really doesn’t want to lead this thing up to the main floor if people are still up there, especially since he has no idea how this thing got past them all (oh, God, he hopes it was too intent on going after Martin to worry about anyone else), but it’s better than nothing.

Except there’s an open expanse between the end of the shelves and the steps, no cover, and Tim hesitates three rows back, not sure if they can make it.

“I knew it would be you, in the end.” The Not-Diana sounds satisfied and delighted, its voice somewhat distant, and Tim fervently hopes it stays away. “Always so helpful, always so eager. Anything to get approval, to show you deserve to be there…”

“Shut up,” Tim grinds out. Martin shushes him.

“It’s a shame you’ll miss the Unknowing,” the Not-Diana says. “You would have loved to see it. But oh, maybe you will be there after all. Won’t you be a lovely partner for the Dance?”

Anything is better than nothing. Tim gets the other three moving again.

“And I can wear you to find your Archivist.” The Not-Diana laughs, cruel and malicious. “Oh, yes, I know where he is, and of course he hopes for a rescue. Won’t he be surprised when kind, helpful Martin is the one to skin him in the end?”

Martin lets out a frightened half-gasp, half-sob. Jaz’s chest heaves with panicked, stuttering breaths. Fear and fury mingle in Tim’s chest and he starts wishing he had a weapon of some kind, but he’ll tear this thing apart with his bare hands if he has to. For right now, though, his primary focus is on getting Martin, Helena, and Jaz away.

“Tunnels,” he gasps to Martin. It’s their last hope. Not a great one, but it’s better than nothing.

They break from the shelves and dash for the trapdoor. Martin flings it open and shoos the others down it; Tim grabs his arm as he passes, forcing him to come with. “Not leaving you behind,” he grinds out.

Their terrified breathing echoes in the tight confines of the stairwell, and somebody swears in what Tim thinks might be Portuguese as they evidently miss their step. He fumbles for his phone, thinking any light is better than nothing, when a torchlight beam suddenly sweeps the ground in front of them. Helena screams, louder this time.

“Tim? Martin? What’s going on?” Jon Prime sounds concerned.

“You can’t escape me now.” Not-Diana’s voice floats down from behind them. Tim throws a frightened glance over his shoulder and sees the shaft of light from the Archives, blocked by a shadow, spill down the steps; the light abruptly vanishes. “Nowhere left to hide.”

“Shit,” Martin Prime hisses.

“Get behind me, all of you.” Jon Prime strides past Tim, sounding determined.

Tim grabs Martin and drags him forward, then finds the two students and pulls them all into a tight huddle. He and Martin do their best to shield Jaz and Helena from the Not-Diana, and Tim can only hope it will be enough.

“I see you,” the Not-Diana sing-songs, then hisses. “You!”

“Leave them alone.” Jon Prime’s voice is low and laden with menace, the way it was when Breekon and Hope first came to the Archives.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be—” The Not-Diana sucks in a breath. “You’re not Jon. What are you? What have you done?”

“Feel the pain of your victims.” Static builds as Jon Prime speaks, and the green glow builds. Like before, it starts with eyes, but not just Jon’s real ones, not just two or three extra ones—eye upon eye, popping into existence around him, all glowing brighter and brighter green and staring directly at the Not-Diana with an intensity that makes Tim’s entire being hurt. He squeezes his eyes shut and holds onto Martin and the students tighter.

“No, please,” the Not-Diana begs. “I’m sorry—”

“Understand it,” Jon Prime continues. The static is growing in intensity. “You have drawn out so much despair, and now, finally, it is your turn.”

“Don’t—I’m sorry,” the Not-Diana says. Then its voice changes, something higher, softer-pitched, with a roll to the R’s. “Please—don’t hurt me, please!”

Martin gasps again, and Tim realizes it’s the original Diana’s voice. The thing that stole her life is using her last words to plead for mercy, or perhaps to get one last taste of fear from them. It fills him with rage, and he guesses, from the intensity of Jon Prime’s next words that he’s thinking the same. “You have never truly understood. So much more suffering than you have ever known, and now—you will know. Ceaseless Watcher, turn your gaze upon this wretched thing.”

There’s a loud, high-pitched, discordant squeal that Tim can feel in his teeth. The green glow is so bright, so intense, that Tim can see it in detail even with his eyes—his real eyes, anyway—closed: hundreds of eyes forming the shape of a person, some floating around the head like a crown, others hovering around it like an arch, and one huge one appearing from behind, like a giant peering through the window of a house, and in between them, stretching and shifting and twisting into all sorts of humanoid shapes, a rapidly dimming glow of indigo. A roar mingled with a scream echoes through the tunnels, and then—

Silence. Darkness. Nothing but the ringing in Tim’s ears and someone hyperventilating.

He opens his eyes and eases up his grip on the others. Jon Prime stands where he was, unmoving, shoulders stiff, staring at the spot where—Tim assumes—the Not-Diana was a moment before.

“What,” Jaz says, voice shaking, “and I cannot stress this enough, the fuck.”

“We’re alive, we’re alive, oh, my God, we’re alive, I thought we were dead,” Helena whispers.

Jon Prime relaxes, at least marginally, and turns around to look at them. He seems…normal is the best way Tim can think of it. There’s nothing in his eyes but concern. “Is everyone all right?”

“I think so,” Tim says, uncertainly. His body aches like he’s been kayaking all day, and he’s still definitely more than a little terrified. The mental image of Jon being skinned alive by something pretending to be Martin isn’t going to leave his mind for a good long while. But, as Helena said, they’re alive. And nobody appears to be injured.

“Is it, um, is it safe to get our stuff and go now?” Jaz asks.

“Yes,” Jon Prime says without hesitation. “There’s nothing else out there. Not now.”

“Um. Good? Thank you?”

Jon Prime leads them out of the tunnels; Martin Prime brings up the rear. Once they’ve all emerged into the Archives, Helena turns to Tim and Martin, looking a bit hesitant. “I…think we got everything we need? We’ll, um, we’ll be back to let you know how the project goes, if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine,” Martin says softly. “We’d like to hear about it.”

“Okay. Cool. We’ll just—get our stuff and go then.” Helena pauses. “We didn’t rewind the last tape, but—”

Tim can’t help the bark of laughter that slips out. “We’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.”

Helena nods and turns away. Jaz starts to follow, then stops and looks back. “Thank you. For saving us.”

“Of course,” Jon Prime says quietly.

The two students head back into the shelves to get their things. As they go, Tim hears Helena whisper, “You were right, he is hot.”

“Oh, my God, Helena, shut up,” Jaz hisses, elbowing Helena sharply.

None of them speak, or indeed move, except for Martin Prime stepping over and resting his hand on Jon Prime’s back. Once the door closes behind the two students, though, Jon Prime whirls on Tim and Martin. “What did you do?”

Tim is about to deny that he did anything, then decides to accept blame; after all, it’s logical that it would be him, and while he doesn’t know what precipitated all of this, it can’t be that bad. Before he can, Martin speaks up in a small voice. “It wasn’t Tim. It was me.”

“Martin?” Jon Prime says in amazement, turning to look at him.

Martin crosses his arms over his chest. “It just—I know I shouldn’t have, I know what you said, but I was just—I was so angry. I felt so helpless. Knowing Jon’s in danger and we can’t do anything about it, a-and just, just the not knowing, it’s getting to me. And all I could think about was just—everything the Stranger’s done. What it did to Tim, what it’s doing to Jon, what it did to your Sasha—what it did to you. It just all boiled up. I-I went up to Artifact Storage and…and the table was there, and…”

“We told you what happened when I destroyed it,” Jon Prime says.

“I know! I just—I thought maybe if I did something different, it would…” Martin takes a deep breath. “I had Jon’s lighter, the one with the spiderweb design on it, I-I don’t know how it got in my pocket, but it was there. I thought it was a recorder at first. Then I pulled it out and—and I lit it and…it went up so fast. It was weird, it just—it caught and it burned and I had to jump back, and I was just thinking God, that was stupid when the fire went out and it was just a pile of ash and…”

“Martin.”

“I know. I know. It was stupid. You should be angry.” Martin isn’t looking at Jon Prime, though. He’s looking at Tim.

And he’s right, Tim should be angry. He wants to be angry. Martin’s expression says he wants Tim to be angry, too—no, he expects Tim to be angry.

Instead of yelling, Tim steps forward and pulls Martin into a hug.

Martin clings to him tightly, burying his face in Tim’s shoulder. Tim feels hot tears soaking into his shirt as Martin cries silently and gathers him closer, one hand cupping the back of his head and the other at the small of his back. He starts crying, too, as it finally sinks in how close a call it was. How close they both came to dying—worse, how close Martin came to dying.

“Non posso perderti anche io,” he whispers. “Please, Martin.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Martin half-sobs, half-gasps. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I’m sorry.”

Martin doesn’t speak Italian, but he probably doesn’t need to. And Tim doesn’t say it’s okay, because it isn’t. It isn’t and they both know it. But what he does say, and what is equally true, is, “I forgive you.”

After a few minutes, they pull themselves together and separate. Tim’s face feels sticky and hot, and Martin’s is still blotchy, but they’re mostly okay. Martin snags a couple tissues off his desk and tentatively offers one to Tim, who accepts and turns to see the Primes holding one another, their foreheads resting together. Jon Prime looks…conflicted is the best way Tim can think of to phrase it. He guesses it has to do with Martin having destroyed the table and unthinkingly freed the Not-Them.

Martin evidently thinks the same thing, because he clears his throat. “I’m—I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jon Prime murmurs. He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. “Well…maybe it is. This time. But I’m starting to think a lot more things are inevitable than we previously thought. Someone would have let it out eventually.” He lets his hands slide off Martin Prime’s shoulders and takes a half-step back.

Martin Prime lets him go with obvious reluctance. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Martin. Honest.” Jon Prime gives him a fond smile, then squares his shoulders. “Right. Let’s see about finding your Jon now.”

A guilty look crosses Martin’s face. “You don’t—I mean, after—you’re not tired or—or drained?”

“No,” Jon Prime says quietly. “I’m feeling rather…full, actually.”

“You—oh.” Tim swallows. “That was, ah—that was pretty—it was a lot. Did you know you could do that?”

“Yes and no. I’ve done it before, just…not here. The first time was Peter Lukas, and it was actually in the Lonely’s domain rather than, well, the real world. All the other times I’ve done that were after the world ended.” Jon Prime huffs. “To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure it would work. Especially down in the tunnels, even with the trapdoor still open.”

“It was looking over the Not-Diana’s shoulder,” Tim says slowly, remembering the light show. “It was—it Saw, all right.”

Martin touches Tim’s shoulder softly, almost hesitantly; Tim reaches up to grab it and holds on tight. Martin Prime’s lips are in a flat line. “What would you have done if it hadn’t worked, Jon?”

“Tried to lure it deeper into the tunnels,” Jon Prime says, obviously trying for casual, but there’s a worried look in his eyes again, like he knows Martin Prime isn’t going to like his answer, which he probably isn’t. “Draw it away from all of you, give you a chance to escape. Leitner’s still down there somewhere with that damned book of his, he’d—probably have trapped it in the end. It would have been all right.”

Martin shivers. “She—it said it was going to wear me for the Dance.”

“It said what?” Jon Prime growls.

Tim hesitates. “Do—actually, do you want our statements?”

For a second, Jon Prime looks like he’s considering that, then shakes his head. “No. No, not right now. I don’t want to overdo it, and that was…a lot, considering I’m not quite as close to the Eye as I was. I at least need to siphon off a bit of power first. Let me take a look for your Jon.”

He rolls his head from one side to another, squares his shoulders, and takes another deep breath, closing his eyes. Again there’s the rush of static, again the glow, sudden, swift, and bright. Tim tries to stop himself from seeing it, but it’s too much and he’s too tired, and then it’s not just the Eye glowing on Jon Prime but all his other marks as well, some barely visible beneath the green and others impossible to miss. Faint hints of old marks still cling to Martin Prime, and Tim doesn’t want to look at Martin, doesn’t want to expose his trauma, but Martin wraps his arms around Tim from behind like he knows Tim’s about to collapse, which he probably does because it’s Martin, and Tim clings to his arms and closes his eyes tightly, but he can still see the green…

And then the static rushes out, as suddenly as it came, and the glow fades. Tim gasps as the last of his energy drains away, and he sags against Martin’s chest. God, he’s worn out.

“So?” he says tiredly. “Where is he?”

The look in Jon Prime’s eyes—mingled sympathy and fear—tells Tim the answer, even before he says, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” Tim repeats. “After all that—you still don’t know?”

“I’m not omnipotent, Tim. I never was, even after the world ended. There will always be things that are beyond my knowledge, things I can’t just see. Blind spots.” Jon Prime hesitates. “I can—there are four that I can see. He’s in one of them, I can guess that much, I just—don’t know which one. He might be at the Waxworks, the one I was held at. He might also be in the Trophy Room—it’s shielded from the Eye, they’re still using it. They may have only stopped in our time because I questioned Sarah Baldwin directly. He might be in Wales—the Gwydir Forest—h-have you listened to that tape yet?”

“No,” Tim and Martin say in unison.

“I suppose it’s in the ones Basira gave you. Somewhere. Or Elias may have had it, I suppose, he’s the one who sent it to me, but…anyway. That’s a blind spot as well. I-I thought it had burned to the ground, but evidently something survived.”

Tim waits for a moment for him to continue, then prompts, “And?”

“Hmm?”

“You said there were four you could see. Or—not see. Where’s the fourth?”

Jon Prime winces. “You won’t like it.”

The bottom drops out of Tim’s stomach, and he’s even more thankful for Martin holding him up. “Covent Garden Theater.”

“Yes. It—th-they must still be using it, Tim. I’m so sorry.”

Martin’s arms tighten around Tim, and he gives a ragged sigh. “We—we can’t. It’s too dangerous, you’re right. W-we can’t take the risk. If we pick the wrong one…either he dies, or we do.”

Tim closes his eyes for a moment. He wonders how he has any tears left after the evening he’s just had. “But you can’t—is he okay?”

“He’s…alive.” Jon Prime inhales quickly. “Scared. M-maybe not the most scared he’s ever been, but definitely in the top five. I know what they did to me, but I can’t tell you for sure if that’s what they’re doing to him. It’s too…muted. Hidden. I have a strong suspicion that the only reason I can see as much as I can is because in some ways, he is still me. We’ve still got some connection, so it’s like looking for a part of myself. But I can tell you he’s alive.”

“I guess that’ll have to do,” Tim mutters.

“At least for the weekend,” Martin says. “We—we can regroup on Monday. Ask Sasha—oh, God, Sasha—”

“Left just after you did,” Tim assures him. “Basira invited her out for drinks.”

Martin Prime, who’s been unusually silent, gives a small laugh. “I always kind of wondered if they’d have been friends.”

Tim tries to stand on his own, but his knees buckle and Martin catches him. “Ugh. Think we can take one of those unmarked tapes home?”

“Yeah, sit down and I’ll grab a couple.” Martin eases Tim into his chair and brushes a light kiss against his forehead, seemingly without noticing, before heading over to the neatly sorted piles of tapes. A moment later he comes back and offers Tim his hand like nothing happened. “Come on. Let’s go home. You need food, a statement, and bed, not necessarily in that order.”

“No, that order sounds perfect, actually,” Tim mumbles. He lets Martin pull him to his feet and leans against him heavily, then looks at the Primes. “Thank you, by the way. For…everything.”

Jon Prime gives him a look of understanding. “I only wish it could have been more.”

[bluecrusadearcade]

Harrison Osterfield is not your regular irregular

By Baker Street, Gentleman’s Journal quizzes the star of Netflix’s new drama on world records, Sherlock Holmes and his golf swing…

Draped in a silk shirt and paisley scarf, Harrison Osterfield is shivering his way across a brisk Regent’s Park. But he’s not complaining. Why would he? After all, the 24-year-old has dealt with worse. In his latest television series alone — Netflix’s The Irregulars — he’s tussled with demonic crows, paranormal serial killers and even the occult. So a little nip in the air? Nothing to worry about.

“I do have my eye on that jumper, though,” beams Osterfield from behind a bold pair of sunglasses. I don’t blame him. It’s a chunky-knit, funnel-neck number from Connolly, and the next piece of clothing lined up for this al fresco photoshoot. But, for now, the young actor must grit his chattering teeth — and continue striking willowy poses in that billowy shirt.

And those poses are turning heads. Dog-walkers, taxi drivers and tourists are all picking up on Osterfield’s energy; a coolly British blend of big grins and bouncy enthusiasm. He swings from a lamppost! He dances through daffodils! He feeds the pigeons! NW1 hasn’t seen this much action in months…

And we’ve come to Regent’s Park for obvious reasons; Baker Street snakes down from its south-west corner. And, on that famous thoroughfare, sits the fictional digs of Sherlock Holmes. But The Irregulars, a supernatural-tinged drama named for Holmes’ gang of trusty street informants, wasn’t shot in London. Rather, it was filmed on the authentically old streets of Sheffield and Liverpool — the same cobbles walked by the Peaky Blinder boys. So this, Osterfield grins, is a fun opportunity to see the real thing.

“All of the rest of the cast,” he admits, “are really big Sherlock fans. I’ve never really read any of the Sherlock books. I’ve seen maybe one Robert Downey Jr. film? So I was very new going into it.”

Today, then, will be a crash course. Because, after we get Osterfield out of the park (and into that jumper), we’re heading to the Holmes Hotel for a coffee and a catch-up. It’s a relatively new hotel just off Baker Street, decked out with knowing nods to the world’s greatest detective. There’s a bronze bulldog guarding the door, pipe-patterned wallpaper and signature cocktails at the sadly-closed bar (anyone for a ‘Case Closed’?).

But, though there are only suggestions of Sherlock in the Holmes Hotel, Osterfield explains that they’re even subtler in the show. Because The Irregulars, in a nutshell (wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma), sidelines the sleuth, and shifts the focus onto Osterfield and his fellow gang members. The actor plays one of the show’s leads; frail runaway nobleman Prince Leopold. All sullen glances and broken bones, his story is the heart of this first season.

“And it’s been a long project in the making,” says Osterfield, noting that filming on The Irregulars began almost two years ago. “That’s quite daunting. When you’ve spent that much time on something and you’ve got no idea how it’s going to turn out?

“It means that, now, it’s crunch time,” he continues, face creasing with mock-worry, “and I have no idea how people are going to react. But I’m really proud of the work, and that’s what I’m taking away from it.”

The Irregulars may be Osterfield’s first lead role — but he’s been acting for years, popping up in several short films and the George Clooney-directed adaptation of Catch-22 before Netflix took notice. His first role came at 11-years-old, when he was cast as Tiny Tim in his school’s stage production of A Christmas Carol. “It’s funny, actually,” says Osterfield, “because it’s quite a similar physicality to my role in The Irregulars”.

“But that’s where it started,” he continues. “And the real reason I got into acting was because there was this girl in the drama class who I really liked. I thought, if I joined up and impressed her, I could take her out on a date. That didn’t happen. But, although she wasn’t interested at all — the acting seems to be going okay!”

It certainly does. But, like actors all over the world, it’s been a very slow year for Osterfield. He returned to set in September to finish filming the Netflix show — but the rest of his lockdown was eerily, cannily familiar to everyone else’s.

“I went back to my home in Kingston,” he nods, “where I was living with three of my best mates who are also actors. Quite a few of my friends are in theatre, and they had a really tough time of it — not knowing what was going to happen next. I was very lucky, knowing that I was going back to finish something”.

The actor says it was strange being locked-down with fellow performers. With sets closed around the country and curtains falling on theatres, it was one of the first times they had all been at home together. But, even with the additional pressure, he says there were no problems. And there never have been, according to Osterfield — as it’s rare that he and his friends ever compete for the same role.

“We’re all very different castings!” he laughs. “Which is good. It’s a mixed bag, really. But it’s very useful when you’ve got to self-tape an audition and there’s another actor literally upstairs. Also, we’ve all known each other for ten years, so we’ve grown up together and, luckily, know when not to push each other’s buttons.”

With no work, Osterfield spent most of his 2020 getting stuck into lockdown. And he shamelessly tried every self-isolated stereotype. He binge-watched every sports documentary from Drive to Survive to Last Chance U. He upped the frequency and intensity of his workouts. He even tried his hand at cooking. He tried everything.

“I did try everything!” the actor laughs, fizzing once more with that lamppost-swinging, daffodil-dancing energy. “Really! I think I went though every lockdown activity there is. I gave baking a go for two weeks — that didn’t work out. I made a banana bread and that was it. I’m not going to be delving into that any more…

“We were quite lucky, though,” he adds, “because we had an outdoor space. We built a homemade golf net in our garden, by putting up two wooden poles and hanging a blue screen we had left over from filming. That kept us entertained most days”.

But, despite the failed banana breads, closed-off golf courses and Irregulars anxiety, Osterfield says that the worst thing about lockdown was missing his family.

“Because we’re a very close family”, he explains. “Massively so. And, usually, we’d have family gatherings every other weekend – my whole family are in East Grinstead and closer to Brighton, so real countryside. I’m honestly just looking forward to the day, with summer on the horizon, that we can do some good barbecues outside.

“We even tried family Zoom quizzes over lockdown,” he adds, “and they all figured out that I’m not that clever. The rest of my family all seem really, really intelligent. I don’t know if they were just revising beforehand, but I was definitely last a couple of times…”

And Osterfield’s most inspiring family member — not to mention the most irregular — is his 89-year-old grandfather. Despite the young actor upping his own fitness levels during lockdown (“I started doing handstand push-ups. That’s my new skill!”) Osterfield’s grandfather put those athletic achievements to shame.

“He’s fitter than me!” laughs Osterfield. “He’s been kept at home for most of the time and, as a family, we’ve been quite worried about him. But I struggle to keep up with him. I’ll ring him up and ask how his day’s going and he’ll say ‘Oh, hi Harry. Can I call you back later on? I’m just doing some exercise’. So he’s doing better than okay!”

But the exercising, Osterfield says seriously, has been a real lifeline. It’s kept both him and his mind busy during lockdown — and has motivated the actor to pursue more physical, active roles in the future. If he can look back at a body of versatile work, measured out in marked body transformations, he says he’ll be happy.

“I’ve been doing a lot of bodyweight exercise over the last year,” he nods. “I thought it would be quite cool, while in lockdown, to break a world record for something — so I’ve been trying lots of fitness challenges. I’m very close to getting the most burpee chin-ups in under a minute. I’ve got to knuckle down on that.

“I also tried to eat an apple in under 38 seconds,” he laughs. “Which sounds like a long time, but it’s actually quite difficult. And, with apples, I eat everything. Even the middle bit. Even the stem. I just chuck it down. I’m a big fruit bat, so I eat everything apart from the seeds.”

There’s that bouncy energy again; that fun-but-utterly-sincere enthusiasm. It’s an odd thing for an actor, to be so happily unabashed by everything — but the 24-year-old is as animated when talking about his acting as he is about his apples. And that’s nice to see. He’s clearly relishing every opportunity to better himself, and just getting started with what promises to be a very exciting career. Harrison Osterfield, it seems, takes every bite of the apple — literally. Talk about irregular.

[ethelphantom]

Always Been The Missing Piece

This is, uh, a sequel to the Maribat Secret Santa thing I wrote for @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry because Ailelie over at Ao3 gave me a good idea in the comments for an identity reveal fic because obviously they don't know the other isn't a civilian. So. Uh. I am planning at least one more sequel after this because I was given a perfect idea for BartAdrien identity reveal on the Maribat discord server and I need to write that too. Just, don't expect it to turn as long as either of these. And seriously, you really should read this only after Like You Could Be Family, because I seriously doubt this will make much sense without, but it's not like I will be able to actually stop you so....

(Also how the hell did I get to 13k? This has got to be the longest one-shot I've ever written please help me I have a problem)

Ao3 || First part | Third part

This is Maribat -- Don’t like; don’t read.

___________

“I don’t think disowning him is even necessary to make him my brother, and it seems there’s a chance we might become family regardless of whether this Bruce adopts me or not.”

Tim stared at the words written permanently on his wrist, rubbing the skin as though to see if they would smudge and leave. They did not. He had never truly thought of even getting a soulmate when he was young.

(Well, obviously he’d thought about it, rather often too. It was just that he always thought he wasn’t going to get one — either because his parents didn’t have one and he would surely be just like them, and then later, once he became Robin and later Red Robin, he thought that even if it wasn’t going to be because of his parents, then he wouldn’t get a soulmate because he wasn’t going to make it alive to 18.)

But, as all things that had anything to do with Fate always did, it didn’t go as he thought. After all, Fate was never quite so simple.

As it turned out, he made it to 18 and got a soulmark.

There was someone in the world Fate thought was the perfect match for him.

Then he for the longest time believed he would meet them while he was in the vigilante business because if his soulmate was a civilian, what would he even do? There was always a high chance of death because of what he did on a nightly basis, and it was certain he would have to disappear on multiple nights and occasions just to be Red Robin — no way he was going to give that up. That meant, that if he had a civilian romantic soulmate, they might accuse him of cheating, and then his life could be ruined because he was the damn CEO of Waye Enterprises and thus in the public eye all of the time. The words written on his wristed also sounded both like they could be romantic or platonic soulmates, since usually soulmates considered one another family of some sorts automatically — it didn’t necessarily mean his soulmate was speaking about one of his brothers becoming their brother-in-law. They all knew there was a chance Bruce would adopt his soulmate one day (no matter what they said about that being unnecessary.)

Then he actually met his soulmate.

He met Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

A sweet young woman almost his age, perhaps around a year younger than him (turns out he was right when she told him of herself later before he managed to go and search her up), with black hair the shade of midnight sky, her eyes blue as Morning Glories. She was kind, thoughtful, great at baking (she could so some pastries better than Alfred could, and that said a lot about her skills), and she shared Tim’s love of coffee (Dick had been horrified when he found her pouring energy drinks into extra strong black coffee after the first night she spent at the manor).

She was also MDC, Tim’s all-time favourite designer, and it was suddenly much easier to commission her when she could just show him the designs in person and talk about them — why she wanted this thing here and that thing somewhere else. Tim was also much more eager to pay her a whole lot more than what she ever asked for, even if that was partly because Marinette was trying her hardest to lower her prices for him.

Yeah no, that didn’t work with him at all — she was fantastic at what she did and he’d be damned if he let her do the work underpaid.

She never pushed his boundaries too far, only enough to have him open up a little, but because she never made him feel uncomfortable or like she was trying to use him, it was fine; He was horrible at opening up himself and wouldn’t have done it without her. It was clear she knew what was alright and what was not — most of the time anyway. And even when she did push his boundaries too far, it was because she tried to show her appreciation to him or got too excited, and when he or someone else pointed it out to her (because she was bad at noticing it herself), she immediately stopped doing the thing and apologised over and over because she never meant to violate his boundaries.

And then she made sure to never overstep it again unless he gave her the explicit permission to do so.

That told him more about her than many other things did or even could.

She was also intelligent, sassy and sarcastic when she wanted to be, had a strong sense of justice and he knew for a fact she knew how to fight and well. She’d mentioned having done martial arts for quite some time and because she made a complaint about having nearly no opponents on her level, Jason asked her if she wanted to try and spar with him. She agreed and won two out of three matches, and though there was a chance he was just holding back (unlikely, considering how much Jason had talked about it on patrol that night), Damian had challenged her after that and they came to a tie. Twice. Damian then won the last round, probably when he finally stopped underestimating her and holding back. There was no way she wasn’t good.

Marinette always tried to help people in need if she could and wouldn’t take no for an answer when she decided that a person beaten to a bloody pulp was in no condition to walk home, especially not alone. If she had to pay for the taxi to get them home, well, she did, never expecting anyone to pay back.

She was absolutely perfect, if you asked Tim.

The problem was, she was a civilian regardless of how well she fought or how intelligent she was. He could never risk her safety by being in a close relationship with her in case someone found out his identity and decided to use her against him. Wouldn’t be the first time that happened in vigilante business. It had given him enough of a heart attack to be with her while in civvies and get caught by the Riddler because of course he had to be there and there was nothing Tim could do to help her himself — the small and young CEO was not supposed to be able to punch a guy’s teeth in.

And then she’d gone and insulted his fashion taste. Tim agreed, definitely, that green and purple three-piece suit was atrocious, but it was a horrible idea if you were a civilian because the Riddler was extremely sensitive about his fashion choices and a villain and he had hardly any rules as to what he did and to whom, unlike some of the Rogues. Marinette didn’t even have any protective gear against him.

So yeah.

An almost-heart attack.

Turns out, she solved all of his riddles rather quickly, some of them with Tim once the Riddler noticed him, and in the end they all got out safely and unharmed.

At least half of the credit of that definitely went to Marinette.

The best course of action would either be to tell her, or cut ties with her, make her hate him or anything that got her out of the danger zone that came with being in a close relationship with him.

The second option was definitely not what he wanted.

And that was what led him to here, sitting at the table in the apartment he used (especially) when he needed an escape from his dear but way too invasive family with Kon and Bart.

“It’s just, I don’t know what to do! I like her, I really do, but I can hardly pursue a relationship with a civilian. I might endanger her life! We’ve seen that happen with enough many of us. Someone figures out our identity, kidnaps a loved one and puts them at risk. Or sees us too close to a civilian while in the suit and decides they’ll put the loved one at risk anyway. I can’t risk my soulmate’s life for something like that, she doesn’t deserve it,” Tim exclaimed, groaning as his head hit the table. Thank heavens Bart had pulled the plate from under him just in time before his forehead would have ended up in his food.

(Though it was likely he was going to lose half of his food to Bart as well, it was likely he was going to eat Tim’s food while Tim wasn’t there to protect it. Asshole friends and all that.)

Sure, Kon and Bart would have probably had fun watching him ruin his looks (and hair, especially his hair) because of the tomato sauce and spaghetti he somehow had not managed to burn, but maybe they were pitying him enough for his soulmate problems to not just let it  happen for this one time. That, and he’d gotten injured in their latest fight and he would not honestly be surprised if they blamed themselves for it at least a little — that was what Tim kept doing if any of his teammates got injured when he was there and even theoretically could have helped.

“Tell her?” Bart suggested, shrugging as he filled his mouth with the spaghetti. From Tim’s plate. Oh well. Telling him to stop would probably not really help and it’s not like Tim couldn’t just steal Kon’s food later. Bart continued speaking as soon as his mouth was empty. “I don’t see why not. If she’s as amazing as you make her out to be, I can’t see a reason why you shouldn’t tell her. I’m gonna tell Adrien, by the way.”

“Do you have any idea when you’re going to do it?”

“Nope, but not yet ‘cause I don’t think it’s fair or appropriate since Paris just declared their heroes dead ‘cause they haven’t made any appearances — but that’s not to say they don’t know where the bodies are, perhaps they’re just protecting them? — in quite the while, but I will soon enough. Wouldn’t be fair to him to keep it a secret, right?” he chuckled and chewed on his (Tim’s) food.

Oh yeah. Paris’ heroes, the ones that were apparently dead. The heroes they had thought didn’t actually exist and were just a make-believe story to entertain people until Paris held a public memorial for them because they were nowhere to be found and told the people they just hadn’t found their corpses, but maybe that was just to protect their identities. The reminder they hadn’t helped them with their villain felt like a punch in the gut to Tim now, even if he hadn’t been the one to make the decision to not help.

He shook the thoughts away. This was not the time for blaming himself or anyone else for it, he could very well do that later.

“Kon?”

“I agree with Bart. If you think she’s good for you, I think it’s better if you just told her. It’s not like you would want to just cut ties with her to protect her and hurt the both of you at the process. It would definitely be like you, but I know you don’t want to do that to the one person meant for you.”

Tim sighed and stole his plate back. It was significantly emptier than it had been two minutes ago. Damn Bart. As a last-ditch effort, he stole Kon’s plate and scooped some of his food to his own plate, ignoring the rather offended look on Kon’s face. His fault, he hadn’t protected Tim’s food from Bart. Besides, Tim needed to eat something proper, after all. It might have been a little too long since the last time he ate more than an energy bar… so probably around three days since.

No wonder he was the smallest of them.

Munching on his food, he sunk back into his thoughts while Bart and Kon chatted animatedly, the few words he picked up indicating the conversation was about soulmates and Adrien in particular.

It had been a few weeks since he and Bart met their soulmates, but both of them were definitely interested in them — likely romantically, but only time would tell for sure. Marinette was amazing and sweet and Adrien must have been the only one as much of a sunshine child as Bart was, though according to Marinette, he could be a little shit when he felt like it. Then Bart and Kon had overheard Marinette discussing Adrien’s father with someone and turns out, Bart was ready to run to Paris and kick the man’s ass himself, regardless of whether he was in prison for being a supervillain and terrorising the city for years or not. Not that Tim would have stopped him. After all, Stephanie too had decided to ruin his father’s plans when it turned out he’d become a villain.

...That was something Adrien could probably bond over with Stephanie at some point. Maybe they’d found the “my dad’s a supervillain and I had nothing to do with it” club.

(“The list of bad dads just grows and grows,” Tim swore he’d heard Bart say afterwards with a suspicious grin on his face. Tim wouldn’t disagree with him though, he could name quite the number of them himself as well, one of them being his very own father.)

Then Marinette had heard Bart declare war on Gabriel Agreste and immediately told him she was joining — according to her, he didn’t have a choice in the matter because she really wanted to kick his ass again.

(Again? When had she managed to do it in the first place?)

So yeah. Having a civilian soulmate was difficult.

Then again… What if he made her a vigilante? She did possess all of the necessary qualities and even more to become a good vigilante that he could think of. Perhaps he should ask her if she’d like to do that. After all, she was now family, both Bruce and Dick had declared so (rather clearly and Dick loudly), accompanied by Alfred’s nods, Jason’s approving humming (and the way he started treating her better than he did most of the family), Cass’ silent approval visible in her smile as she looked at Marinette, and a little reluctant Damian as well.

It wouldn’t matter she didn’t have any superpowers like some people did — none of the family did, and they were all great at what they did, even if Gotham was nearly impossible to save at this point anymore. She was already good at martial arts, knew how to take care of herself (if it didn’t mean her inability to eat when she was supposed to or her reluctance to go to sleep (nightmares, perhaps?), but she knew how to defend herself and others.) She would make a good vigilante, especially with some special and personalised training. Now he only needed it approved by the rest of the family because she could and would put two and two together and realise all of them were involved with the vigilante business if he came clean to her as one.

Actually, that sounded like a good idea.

Then his phone chimed on the coffee table in the living room and he all but ran there, injuries be damned.

“Hey, careful there, you wouldn’t want us to tell Alfred you need new stitches,” Kon called after him before turning to Bart. “How much do you want to bet that was Marinette messaging him right there?”

“Nope, not betting anything when we both know full well it was Mari. There’s no one else he’d practically dive out of the table for and leave his food unguarded with us. Speaking of...”

“Bart! Do not even think about eating my food while I’m gone! It better be still there untouched when I come back, or so help me god I will kick your ass back to the next millennium!”

Bart just snickered.

God, why was he even friends with Bart?

Oh yeah, because he didn’t know how to live on without him (or Kon) anymore anyway.

⬷۵⤐

Marinette paced around her room in the Manor, panic clearly showing on her face. Adrien sat on the bed placed near the wall, leaning to it, seemingly unconcerned. He was mostly waiting for Marinette to calm down enough to stay still and just listen for a second in between her freak outs.

Thank kwamii for the fact they had gotten Wayzz to secure the room and create a shell in which they could talk without needing to worry whether someone heard them or not. No one would. They were safe.

...They also wouldn’t disturb anyone with it since it was way past midnight already.

“But this ruins everything!” Marinette exclaimed, finally standing in one place long enough for Adrien to decide paying attention to her would be worth it. Or, could be worth it.

Adrien rested his chin on his palm, tilting his head. “Now, Buginette, I love you and all,  but this is getting ridiculous, utterly ridiculous (“Don’t you dare sound like Chloé right now, Adrien!”) Are you sure you need to panic about all this? As far as I see it, you could just, I don’t know, tell him. Gabriel isn’t a threat anymore, and even if he was, we aren’t in Paris,” he said, and plopped down on the bed, propping one leg on his knee. Plagg seated himself on Adrien’s head, ready to take a nap, while Tikki had nestled on Marinette’s shoulder. It was amazing how she was so used to Marinette freaking out that she could just stay calm on even a pacing Marinette.

“I know I could tell him because Gabriel is behind bars, and I should tell Tim because otherwise it won’t be fair to him and I like him, probably romantically soon, and I can’t let myself pursue a romantic relationship with anyone that doesn’t know because it’s too much to keep a secret, but I have no idea how to! What if I scare him off because right now it looks like the both of us are staying here in Gotham — or at least the States — and knowing the two of us, we won’t be able to just quit hero work either! Speaking of which, we have to design ourselves new suits because Paris just declared us dead like a week ago. Not Marinette and Adrien, obviously, but Chat Noir and Ladybug. Understandable, we just disappeared after the fight with Papillon and there’s no way anyone would believe him if he said he didn’t hurt us so why would they believe he didn’t also kill us and—”

“Nette, please, try to breathe and calm down. It’s not that serious of a situation,” Adrien tried but Marinette had resumed pacing around and it was clear as day she was freaking out. It was also clear she wasn’t listening to a word he said anymore, and barely even paid attention to the fact she wasn’t, in fact, alone in the room in general. He sighed and stood up, grabbing his best friend by the shoulders. Plagg shrieked before he shut his mouth because of his holder’s sudden movement.

Now that had her stop and concentrate her attention on him again.

“I know it’s difficult for you to reveal your identity to anyone, including me even long after I realised my behaviour was a big no-no and apologised to you, and that’s fine. It just means you’re being responsible. But. This is your soulmate we’re talking about. There are so many reasons why you should tell him and you know that if you don’t, whatever relationship you might end up in with Tim might go horribly wrong if all the while you’re keeping a secret such as this from him.” Adrien took a deep breath and looked Marinette directly in the eyes. “I am well aware you like him like, a lot, so there’s no way you’d want to risk losing him in either way — by putting him in danger or by having him tell he can’t take you disappearing on him all the time anymore.”

Damnit. Adrien was right. Marinette hated it when Adrien was right. Mostly, because usually when Adrien was right and even she had to admit it because it was so obvious, it meant that the kwamii also agreed with him. And well. When Tikki, the literal miniature goddess of creation, said something should be done, her word was final. She had no way out of this, now did she?

“Nope!” said Tikki from next to her ear.

Oh. She’d said that out loud. For crying out loud.

But yeah, she truly did like Tim, a lot. He was smart, could banter with her rather easily without ever making her uncomfortable by doing so, was never put off by sarcasm (which was, unfortunately, quite rare nowadays and that meant she found it rather refreshing), and he was kind. Also, he had a huge sweet-tooth and mostly a good taste which meant she could freely bake a lot and Tim would likely enjoy any and all of it. She could use him to test new recipes, too.

She also liked his appearance — a lot. His looks were definitely nothing to scoff at. His hair was black and silky, and his eyes were so enchantingly blue (as were many of his brothers’ and Conner’s, if she was being honest, but his were her favourites) and she couldn't help but just drown in them. He genuinely liked her designs (he says he loves them, her mind not so helpfully reminded her, because that made it even better and even harder to let go of him if the need be), he wasn’t pretending to do so because they were soulmates. Tim also had such great ideas for new clothing sometimes — he had been a massive help with the design for her latest dress that she was planning on making for the up-coming Wayne Gala where he (and the rest of the family) had invited her.

Yeah, and Tim knew how to paint nails a little too well. Marinette was certainly going to use that little fact to her advantage and have him do her nails at some point.

Marinette also truly enjoyed spending time with his family and him. All of them respected her at least on some level (gave her the basic respect Jagged had taught everyone was supposed to give her automatically unless she actually did something to warrant them to lose said respect) and didn't try to have her bake or design clothes for them or have her do their chores they were supposed to do because they wanted a little more time to themselves — especially not for free. Never for free. And, even if they did ask her to do something for them (usually it was Jay or Dick doing so), they never failed to remind her she could say no and that depending on what they asked her to do they’d compensate it to her as soon as possible in whatever form she wanted — whether that be money or new fabric or favours or them helping her the next time she baked something.

They didn’t take her for granted, and that was freeing.

She was genuinely happy to spend time with them. Their presence, especially Tim’s, was comforting to her, with him it was safe for her to just be herself.

Yeah, she was too far gone for one Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne and definitely did not want to lose him. She could only hope she was someone Tim could be himself with as well.

Honestly, her biggest problem with all and any of this was that Tim was a civilian and in case someone found out he was close to her, it would be no good for him to know. If the threat was magical, there was no way he could fight it off even if he was anything like his brothers when it came to fighting (she just didn’t know, but she did suspect he was). She herself could get out of problematic situations rather easily, but there was no telling just how bad situation could get until Tim would no longer have any way to get away. She figured he had to have at least some kind of basic training because so many in his family seemed to know martial arts, he lived in Gotham and was a CEO, but she had no idea to what extent he could protect himself.

And indeed, because the miraculous considered her an adult now and she no longer had a time limit after she used her special ability (whatever it was depending on the miraculous), it meant there was no way she would even consider stopping. Of course, she still tried not to push too far after she did use that ability as to not exhaust the kwami she was using too much and she’d made it her point to wear multiple miraculouses at once at all times so even if she had to detransform to let one kwami rest, she wouldn’t need to stop fighting right away or wait until they recharged.

In a city like Gotham where she could be needed, this all meant she could not stop being a hero. (Though, she knew that Batman wasn’t known for being too fond of magic users, or metas, whatever it was they called them, so she would need to have him somehow accept her presence or prepare to fight him and perhaps also all of his team that seemed to actually be his family — especially Robin seemed to still be a little child, younger than her when she received her miraculous.) Not since they had seemed to decide they were going nowhere from there, most of all not Paris.  

They were never going to return, they really didn’t want to do so, what with the entire city being full of traumatic memories to them. Maybe they’d visit Kagami and Luka and her parents, maybe his aunt and cousin, but otherwise, no. Besides, their soulmates were both here, they had hardly any people they had good relationships with in Paris anymore because they’d both eventually stood up to their class, Gabriel was in prison — which, in turn, meant that the majority of Paris blamed Papillon’s actions on Adrien at least on some level. It didn’t matter to them that he had said that no, he had nothing to do with his father’s actions, and that his father actually abused him and he was glad to be finally free from him.

It wasn’t like they didn’t have a list of excuses to stay.

(Marinette wasn’t going to admit it any time soon, but she had an actual list of the excuses to stay written down in case someone asked her and her brain wouldn’t agree on cooperating at that time. It was also partly in case she ended up mentioning there were many, many, many reasons for them to stay and someone asked for a list; This way she could literally provide them with one. It was both on multiple papers and notebooks and on her phone — after all, back-up copies were very useful.)

Yet another reason as to why she should tell Tim — even though her Miraculous Cure healed and restored almost anything, it had mostly stopped working on her as it drew its energy from both her and Tikki, and now she was full of scars. Sure, it mostly healed the biggest injuries so she was rarely limping or bleeding long, and they never became devastating, but well. It still wasn’t any good that she had to keep covering some of the scars behind layers of makeup or hide them under clothing. Thank kwami Adrien had yet to report the same was happening to him.

There was no way Tim wouldn’t discover the scars’ existence at some point, regardless of whether their soulbond was romantic or platonic (although she certainly hoped it was romantic), so it would be far better to just come clean about it before he eventually found out about them on his own anyway.

So yeah.

She also had a long list of very good reasons to tell Tim.

The problem here was, she had no idea how.

She could hardly just walk up to him and blurt out she was Ladybug when it had just been announced that Ladybug (and Chat Noir at that, but it was up to Adrien to decide whether he wanted to tell his identity to anyone aside from Bart — he likely wanted to tell him) were dead, she would have to come up with a better plan to that. A lot better plan.

But perhaps… perhaps if she presented him with a miraculous and asked him to fight alongside her and Adrien… Maybe Bart could be there as well if Adrien considered it a good idea?

“Hey, Adrien, what do you think? Would Tim be a good miraculous user? And how about Bart?” she asked. Fiddling with the mouse necklace she was wearing, Marinette turned to look at Adrien who had, at some point, left from her side. Mullo was sleeping somewhere inside her hood.  “They both seem like people that would like to help others if they could — I mean, Tim already tries as a CEO and I simply don’t know Bart that well yet — but I don’t know. I want to hear your opinion on this as well because even if I am now the guardian and could technically just do whatever the hell I wanted, you’re still my partner in crime… fighting, and since some of my previous choices weren’t too good…”

Yeah, she did mean Alya and Nino. Also others, but those she’d trusted the most, so…

“Are you seriously asking me if I’d like to have both our soulmates by our side if— no, when we are fighting possibly magic-based crime in Gotham or elsewhere in the States?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. She nodded slowly. Adrien arched an eyebrow as he looked at her like she had made the stupidest question he had ever heard in his life before. “Duh, obviously, of course I want them there. Bart would be good. He’s so fast already — no, seriously, I swear, he’s quicker at doing things than Plagg is at eating camembert —, he’s a quick thinker and okay, he’s a little impulsive, but most of the time his ideas haven’t been that horrible, so a miraculous could probably enhance all of it in a good way.”

“And Tim’s got a good sense of justice and he’s one of the smartest people I’ve met. He’d be great at any strategic positions and— you know, I think he could work either the snake or the dragon miraculous really well.”

Adrien nodded enthusiastically. “Now you’re talking my language. Mayhaps the fox miraculous would be good for Bart, he’d get to be creative and I’m sure if he got up to any mischief, Trixx would only be more than happy to help. Or maybe the horse— actually, no, forget about that, I don’t think that’s a good idea because he might get the idea to send us all to anywhere in the world because it seemed like a good idea to him for all of two seconds and that’s the one thing that would make everything really problematic.” Adrien sunk into his thought for a moment, tapping his nose with his finger absent-mindedly as he tried to think of something else. Then his eyes brightened as he came up with an idea.

“Oh, the turtle! He’s quick so it wouldn’t take him long to protect those in need of it, and maybe in some moments when he’s too impulsive, Wayzz could be there as a voice of reason and common sense in his head. I don’t actually mind his impulsiveness at all but sometimes all of us could use a Wayzz to help us slow down a little.”

Wayzz himself looked torn between agreeing, and strongly disagreeing and escaping before Adrien could convince Marinette to give him to Bart.

“I’m seriously considering this now. I have no idea how to give them one, though. It isn’t as simple as it would have been in Papillon’s Paris — we don’t have a Miraculous threat here and no one knows us. I mean, they’ve probably heard of the deceased Ladybug and Chat Noir, but not the ones we’re going to become. We can hardly just swing up to them and be like “hey have you ever wanted to be a hero? Well, here’s a miraculous that will transform you into a magical superhero with the help of jewellery and a god like in some anime—” God damn it Adrien, now I consider transforming into LB the same kind of thing as your anime’s girls with objects to make them magically transform.”

“They’re magical girls, actually. And well, I have to say, we kind of are magical girls, you know. Magical transformation, magic, magic provided superpowers, magical healing, double lives, way too obvious costumes for anyone to not figure out our identity yet none of them do it anyway… Oh, and we have specific words to transform us along with magical accessories or jewellery and we have a literal transformation choreography! Clearly magical girls!”

“Magical girls, then, whatever. Never compare us to them again.”

Adrien just snickered.

“Ugh, shut up, will you?”

“Of course. But yeah, you’re right, we can’t just appear behind their windows and give them a miraculous. That would be just stupid and irresponsible, now wouldn’t it?”

“Why do you sound so sarcastic?”

“That might be because I kind of am.”

“Go away.”

She had no idea how she could still stand Adrien. Why was he her best friend again?

Oh yeah.

Because he was the one who had stood right there by her side through thick and thin.

That’s why.

⬷۵⤐

“So. Let me get this straight—”

“In this family?”

“Shut up, Jaybird. So, what you’re saying is, you want to reveal us all to your girlfriend because you don’t want to keep secrets this big from her?”

Tim sighed and ran a hand down his face, exasperated. Hadn’t he just explained this? “No, Dick, first of all, she’s not my girlfriend — at least yet. What I’m asking is if it’s okay to everyone I tell her I’m Red Robin and get her to start training so she can become a vigilante as well. She’d be good at it. I don’t want to keep my identity from her in case we do start dating because then what if she thinks I’m cheating on her or up to some other not-good stuff when I keep sneaking out in the middle of the night and can’t even tell her what for.”

“And why do you want her to be a vigilante? You know it’s dangerous.”

“Then why is any of us doing it? It would anyway be her choice. Besides, if she was fighting beside me, she wouldn’t even need to worry about me that much because she could technically probably see me and not have to stay at home, you know? I know I can see there’s something in her that reminds me a lot of most of us, the need to fight for justice and for those in need of help because no one else does either. I can see the crave to fight in her.”

Dick sighed and tilted his head, his expression hard as steel. “You really thought this through, didn’t you?”

“Obviously. And as to why I’m asking you is because she’s actually smart and would definitely put two and two together when I tell her I’m Red Robin; The likeliness of Robin, Red Robin, Batman, Nightwing, Batgirl, Red Hood — yes, Jason, you too, have you seen the giant red bat on your chest you insist on wearing even though you claim to detest us half the time because we all can see it —, Black Bat, the Signal and the rest of us being close with each other, if not family, is quite high. Basically, she would most likely connect you all to the vigilantes running around.”

Bruce crossed his arms over his chest and shot him the Batdad-Look™, and if he hadn’t been so determined to get them to agree, it would have probably made him a… little too nervous to keep on talking. Alas, it wasn’t going to make him stop because he really, really wanted Marinette to fight beside him and if it meant he needed to bear with Bruce’s Batdad-Looks™, then so be it. He was not about to go down without first putting up a fight.

Tim couldn’t even explain how grateful he was for the fact Bruce stayed quiet despite the expression on his face. It helped his situation a little.

Instead, it did not help that he could feel Cass’ eyes on his back. She was sitting on the ground a small distance away from them, probably reading all of them like they were open books. He decided to ignore it for now — there was really nothing else he could do.

“And you know she’s a good fighter — you saw her spar with Jason! You saw how she fought against Damian who actually, officially challenged her, like she were equal. He doesn’t do that too often. We all also know neither of them wasn’t holding back too much on second matched anymore, if at all in the in the third one. She only lost once they stopped holding back and even then she put up a good fight — the matches weren’t over in minutes. Like, we’ve all gotten training from at least the Bat himself, likely from many others too. She has not. That makes it an impressive feat. With training, she could probably be one of the best of us!”

Steph lifted her hands above her head as to surrender and to draw attention to herself. “Alright, I’m cool with it. Timmy’s passionate about his cause and also I like Mari. It could be fun to have her in the team.”

Thank goodness, at least someone was on his side.

Dick’s phone chimes and he looks at the message, groaning when he reads it. “Babs told me to tell you all that she also says yes, that she trusts Marinette with all of this if others are fine with it as well,” he says slowly, before he puts his phone away. It’s strange seeing him not cheerful, but Tim can’t afford to care about it too much now .

Another voice spoke up softly. “I think… Marinette makes a good fighter,” Cass said from her spot, resting her body weight on her arms with the flats of her palms on the ground. She seemed thoughtful. Her words carried a meaning all of them understood, even if she didn’t say it out loud — she liked her too and wanted her in, but that she too would like Marinette to get some training first before letting her out.

Just in case.

They knew she wanted to lose people just as much as the rest of them — which meant, she didn't want to lose any more people she cared about.

Then, a sigh. “Yeah, gotta agree. Could be nice to have her on our side, she’s fun. And Timber’s right, she does seem like she’s achin’ to go fight a bitch. It’d be better if we made sure she’s got the necessary skills and stuff, and I’d rather not have to fight her because one of us considers her an enemy or because she thinks that of us. Girl’s got some mad skills. Also, B, if you think about it for a second longer, I’m sure you’d realise that if there’s a chance she is going out anyway, I’m sure you’d prefer she followed your rules, too, right?”

Tim… wasn’t sure when the last time he’d been grateful for Jason’s input had last occurred, but he was certainly ready to let Jason do whatever the hell he wanted with criminals during their next patrol together, that’s how grateful he was. Yes, even if it meant Jason shooting them in the fucking kneecaps.

“Yes, but she’s still—”

“She’s what, Grayson? She put up a respectable fight even thought she’s still clearly inferior to me, but I do not doubt she could do the same in the field. Her skills most certainly require improvement and bettering, and she needs to fine her techniques if she wants to hold her own out there without getting killed, but I’m certain she’s more than capable of getting to Todd’s level with guidance.”

Okay, wow. Damian was defending Marinette. He definitely needed to tell this to her — he was sure she’s appreciate hearing the little demon of the family respected her enough to speak up against Dick and his father, the only ones of them he’d ever openly admitted held his respect, even if he didn’t necessarily word it as “I respect you” or “you have my respect.” It seemed Marinette got the honor of being the third one, and she had been family for all of some weeks. She’d even gotten him to use the word “respectable” when talking about her.

She got him admitting to all of them, all of them, that he thought she was good and worth his respect. Now that was something.

So, Tim also appreciated him speaking up. This tiny (alright so he may not have been that tiny anymore and there’s a chance Damian was now taller than Tim, but who cared, he would always be tiny to Tim) teenager was still the only biological child of Bruce and also one of the hardest of them to impress, so if he said something of this sort about anyone (the last time it was something about Jon but Tim hadn’t cared enough to remember what it actually was about anymore), everyone would at least listen to him before simply jumping to decisions.

So yeah. If there ever was a time Tim wanted nothing more than to take his little brother out and let him find a few new animals to keep as pets, even if they weren’t good as pets, it was now. It certainly was now.

“I’m siding with Tim here — don’t give me that look, Dick, the ones already sided with him are scarier and more dangerous than you and Bruce together, so even if I didn’t agree, his side would be the wiser choice—”, Duke starts, shrugging, though there was a clear smile on his face. “But like, Marinette’s nice, like actually nice, and if she’s going to become family anyway, I don’t see why we couldn’t have her in this as well. Tim has a good point — several good points, actually, so the logic is also on his side.”

Yeah, Tim certainly couldn’t hide his smile any longer. Only Dick and Bruce were yet to say yes. Maybe he could actually do this.

Of course, he was not going to go through with any of this if all of them didn’t agree. He could risk his own identity to his soulmate, but there was no way he was going to force anyone else to do so for anyone, least of all for someone that wasn’t literally linked to them by their very soul. He would never compromise all of them for one person.

“Okay, fine. It seems everyone else is saying yes, so I guess I’m outvoted here. I just want every one of you to stay safe, you know? I don’t want this to end up being the reason any of you gets hurt.”

Yes, Tim knew that. Regardless of how annoying Dick managed to get a lot of the time, or how frustratingly stubborn he always was, or how his attitude was irritatingly similar to Bruce’s even when their personalities weren’t even remotely similar most of the time (that one was probably causation of Bruce taking care of Dick for like a decade), there was never any doubt his love or concern for any of them wasn’t genuine. That much was more than obvious.

He managed to give Dick a small smile, hoping it would convey he was grateful he finally said yes.

Now there was only one left to convince.

The most difficult of them (if you didn’t count Damian in, anyway) to convert.

Bruce was stubborn as hell when he wanted to, but seeing as he was stubborn even if he wasn’t trying to be, this could either be easy or the most difficult thing Tim had ever done. It had taken him a while to convince Bruce to make him Robin, but back then all he was trying was to have him take himself in and train him; Back then Tim wasn’t planning on telling his identity to someone who didn’t know yet, someone who could figure out the rest of them as well, and then have her trained to become one of them. Tim knew it, it was a lot to ask, but he wanted to do it anyway. It was important to him, alright?

Tim turned to look at Bruce. “Well? How is it?” He placed his hands on his hips and tilted his head, waiting for an answer. Any answer, really.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Tim. What if something happens to her? Or what if something happens to you? Or any of your siblings?”

“But what if something happens to her because I didn’t tell her? And besides, something could happen to any of us at any given time, given what we all do on nightly basis. We could have also just not done it, but we are doing it anyway and like hell is any of us going to just quit. Out world is full of what-ifs, we cannot help them, and I’ll be damned if I let them make me lose the one person actually made for me, the one person that I was tailored to.”

“With all due respect, Master Bruce, I must say, you have told your identity — even if only subtly hinted at it with a very specific set of words so that it’s enough for them to make the connection — so many times that I think you can hardly be against this. None of them were even your soulmate. Need I remind you of who everyone knew or found out without ever even becoming one of us? At least Master Tim is planning on bringing her in on all of this and planning to have her properly trained,” Alfred said, appearing in the doorway behind Bruce.

So sure, Cass and Damian knew exactly how to seemingly just appear and reappear without anyone noticing as though they could teleport, sure, Commissioner Gordon always complained about Batman doing it, and sure, the rest of them knew how to blend in with the shadows (they just didn’t always do it), but Alfred also seemed to possess this skill — better than most of them, anyway. Tim had absolutely no idea how, but he wasn’t about to complain.

Besides, it was Alfred, so it wasn’t surprising. Honestly, was there anything the man couldn’t do?

But the thing is, Alfred was also right. He had let Rachel Dawes find out. He let commissioner Gordon find out. Mr. Fox knew because Bruce had asked for help and equipment he then used as Batman while he was being Bruce Wayne — now that right there had never even seen subtle hinting. A whole lot of other people knew as well, though many had found out on their own — such as Tim, while some found out because of other, not so lovely circumstances, like Selina.

So, all in all, Bruce was the worst of them to say anything about it. True, he was mostly protective of them, always thinking up the worst-case scenarios about everything, something Tim himself did as well because that was the easiest way to make sure they were prepared for absolutely anything and everything, but Tim trusted Marinette. He wanted to trust her, just like Bruce had trusted some people. And in any case, he’d rather trust than live his life in suspicion of most people, like some people he knew did. Like Bruce.

Bruce opened his mouth to say something, but as nothing came out, he just closed it again. A defeated sigh slipped past his lips and he let go of the tensity in his shoulders, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine, I can see when I’ve lost. I want to meet her soon after you tell her, maybe right away after it, though, regardless of whether she makes the connection or not. I would prefer if all of you were here then,” he said, motioning at all of them before he placed his hand on Tim’s shoulder. “And that you—” he cast a pointed look at Tim, “—tell us when you are going to do it. I trust that you understand what you’re doing. I do not want to find out Ms. Dupain-Cheng is a danger to any of you, but especially you.”

“Of course. I take full responsibility of her and her training—”

“No you won’t. I’ll do that, although I do expect you to be there for her and to be a major help. I’m still your father and I don’t care if you’re already 19, because I’m not letting my children be that much of adults just yet.”

“Hey!”

Bruce just smiled (a tense smile, one that was half-forced on his face) and left all of them (except Cass whom Tim couldn’t see anywhere anymore) behind, gaping.

“Did he just—”

“Oh my god he totally did!”

“Please tell me someone recorded B calling himself a father and calling us his children.”

Tim had a vague suspicion that Cass had indeed recorded it, was going to send it to all of them, and then, depending on the reactions to it, would send a voice message of her laughing to their group chat.

Well, that definitely went better than he thought.

⬷۵⤐

“You know, I’m glad I have you as my soulmate,” Marinette began around a week later as they were sitting in the living room of the Wayne Manor. She snuggled closer to him and Tim wrapped an arm around her, comfortable and relaxed for the first time in a few days. “I’ve known you for not that long, but I already know I don’t want to lose you.”

She reached for his hand and took it in her own. Tim squeezed her hand back.

“Me neither.” Tim saw this as an opening — after all, most, if not all, of his reasons to tell Marinette who he was and all his plans about how exactly he should do it were born from the idea that he didn’t want to lose her. And so, he stood up, still holding her hand, and pressed a light kiss on it. “I need to show you something important. Will you follow me?”

A soft laughed escaped from Marinette as she replied, smiling, “Always, to the ends of the world.”

Marinette let herself be pulled up to her feet and led through the endless dark hallways of the manor. He quickly shot a message (“I’m prepared to do it, I’m taking her down now. Be there in five”) to the group chat before putting his phone away. When it vibrates in his pocket, he first looked at Marinette as though to make sure it was fine with her if he checked and possibly answered — after all, he knew it wasn’t too urgent or they would have called, and as far as Marinette was aware, this was supposed to be their time together to get to know each other better and all, not time for either of them to spend talking to other people via phone —, the corners of his lips turning upwards at her when she nodded with a smile on her face.

It seemed smiles liked to creep up on his face a lot more now that Marinette was around.

The message was from Jason, and Tim rolled his eyes fondly at it.

I thought you were supposed to tell her instead of fighting her, babybird.

shut up jason

You know pwefectly well what taking her down means int his case

Oh yes, I most definitely do.

It’s just so much fun reminding you of the existence of double meanings you either use to insult people or forget about completely.

But yeah, we’ll be ready.

“One of your brothers?”

“Yep. Jason is being a cumberworld.”

“And him being a cumberworld definitely makes you grin and roll your eyes as though he merely made a stupid joke and you, unfortunately, thought it rather amusing. Got it.”

“Wait. You actually know what it means?”

“Duh, obviously. After listening to you and your family for a while, it seemed like a good idea to do some research on different English insults so they wouldn’t fly by me all the time.”

Tim snorted. Of course. Only Marinette would. Only her. Everyone else outside of their family seemed to give up on trying to understand after a little while, but noooo, this girl decided she was going to spend extra time doing some research just to be able to understand — that, and also most likely to be able to laugh at them. She definitely fit in just fine.

It didn’t take them too long after that to get to the main study in the manor that Tim had earlier told her was Bruce’s and told her not to go in. Maybe that was why Marinette now looked quite nervous and anxious as he unlocked the door and pushed it open, motioning for her to go in.

“Are you sure we can go in here? Mr Wayne— I mean, Bruce, isn’t going to get mad at us? And you aren’t about to kill me, right?” she laughed, trying to mask her nervousness with humour, but walked in anyway. She relaxed a little and the tensity in her shoulders slipped away the slightest bit as Tim shook his head as no.

He walked to the grandfather clock in the room and let go of Marinette’s hand in order to be able to turn the hands of the clock. The clock hit 10:48 (Tim had always thought there was no one more grim than the Batman but then he actually met Bruce Wayne and found out you needed to turn the clock to show the time Bruce’s parents had been murdered, and was just like that forced to change his view on the matter) and the panel unlocked, opening the door hidden from view behind the clock.

Marinette’s jaw dropped open. This was most certainly not what she had been expecting, that much was sure.

“Well then, my fair lady, shall we enter?” he asked, grinning at Marinette’s flabbergasted expression even as she walked closer and tried to figure out where the entrance would take them.

She could keep trying; he was not about to tell her just yet.

The elevator took them down and soon enough, they were in the cave. He stepped out of the doors and waited for Marinette to follow him.

“...Where are we?” she asked, her voice a little strained.

“Uh.”

“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, where in the world exactly did you take me?”

It seemed actually telling her turned out a little more difficult than he thought. Well, no use crying now — he couldn’t just brush off all of this like he hadn’t just taken his soulmate down to the Batcave either.

“Alright. So, this might come as a shock and for the love of all that’s still holy and sacred in this world please do not freak out. I just decided I needed to tell you this before we consider pursuing any relationship on a deeper and closer level than what we have now, regardless of in what sense it would be.

Marinette nodded slowly, encouraging him to go on even as she seemed suspicious (and anxious) about what was going on. Perhaps that was a good thing since they were in Gotham, in the city where you never knew who the person in front of you was or what they did in their free time (or at night).

Tim took a deep breath before dropping the bomb on her. “I am Red Robin, one of the vigilantes of Gotham.”

At his declaration, her jaw dropped. Again. “You— I— What?”

“I’m Red Robin,” he repeated and pulled out the domino mask he had taken with him and slipped into his pocket, putting it on his face. Thank heavens for Marinette and her need to give him big pockets whenever he commissioned her (and there was any reason to put pockets to said commissioned clothing) because of that one offhand comment complaining about too small pockets some of his clothes had. He scratched his chin awkwardly before realising what he was doing and pulled his hand down, pressing his nails to his skin to keep himself from bringing it up again. “I was also thinking, you’d make a good vigilante if that’s what you wanted to do. Obviously, I would need to train you first to make sure you’d be ready for Gotham’s streets, but I thought it could help you not to worry about me if you saw me in action and actually had the chance to help me if necessary?”

That… wasn’t supposed to come out as a question. Why did it come out as one?

But Marinette’s silence was worrying him. It would be understandable not to get an answer now, but he knew her well enough by now to know that she would be mindlessly rambling at this point if it were merely shock she was experiencing.

“You… You aren’t a villain or planning on becoming one, right? Because even if you were my soulmate, that would mean I’d have to take you down.” Almost certain he could feel Dick’s pointed (and amused, definitely amused) look on his back, he added, “I’m not about to go down the Batman-Catwoman route with this.”

That startled Marinette out of her shock and as she stared him dead in the eye, she blurted out, “Spots on!”

Tim could have almost sworn he heard an exasperated and quiet “Marinette, why couldn't you just tell him like we agreed?” as bright pink light enveloped her and soon revealed that in her place there stood a young woman in a red suit with black spots.

And a spotted mask.

Which made it a ladybug suit.

Or the Ladybug suit.

On his soulmate that came from Paris.

Paris’ Ladybug…

“Oh my god. You’re Ladybug. My soulmate is Ladybug. This is a thing now, apparently. Aren’t you supposed to be dead? Actually, no, I’ve seen enough people that were resurrected, it wouldn’t even be that surprising. How were you—”

Ladybug’s shoulders lifted to her ears and she smiled sheepishly. “Hi? I’m not a villain as you can see?”

It was Tim’s turn to simply stare at Marinette. He— he was not expecting this turn of events. He sighed and waved his hand a little in a “come here” gesture, knowing they were there and that they’d seen her transform anyway. That would mean there was no secret identity problem anymore as her identity wasn’t really a secret anymore, per se. Besides, since she was a hero already, they could very well just introduce themselves to her already.

He had to admit, this was absolutely wonderful as it meant she fit in perfectly — it was as though she had always been the missing piece of the puzzle that was his life and family.

Of course, though he was expecting fate to be a jerk and give him a civilian soulmate, Fate instead decided to cut him some slack and just give him someone that could actually keep up with him and the family he wasn’t going to get rid of anyway, no matter what he tried or wanted (not that he wanted to get rid of them most of the time).

But well. A soulmate was supposed to suit you perfectly, so maybe it wasn’t that surprising.

Ladybug didn’t seem to notice his family approaching them as she kept on rambling and tried to explain herself. “I’m also not dead and never was. Chat Noir isn’t dead either though he has died multiple times during akuma attacks and was resurrected by my Miraculous Cure. Paris just happens to have a tendency to get overdramatic and jump to conclusions, and Chaton and I decided we didn’t want the Ladyblogger on our backs any longer. Neither of us is too fond of her, especially not after the phenomenon that is Lila Rossi,” she said, sighing as she cocked her hip. Ladybug shook her head and turned her eyes to the side. It seemed the name meant a lot, just not in any good way. “Wait. If you’re Red Robin, then—”

“Hiii!”

Aaandd it seemed that Dick had taken that as his cue to make his presence known. How lovely.

Ladybug turned to Dick and then back to Tim, arching an eyebrow. “Since you’re Red Robin, I’m going to go ahead and suppose this is your family. Am I right?”

“Yeah, unfortunately.”

“They’re not going to try and fight me or drive me out of your city for having powers, right?”

Batgirl cuffed him upside the head as she skipped to them, walked past Tim and then looked Ladybug up and down before nodding approvingly. “Definitely approve, though that suit… Am I seriously supposed to believe you’re our sweet, wonderful, talented fashion designer? Also no, even if B-Man or Dickiebird over there tried, Timmers, Damian and I would fight for you. You’re staying because I like you. We all like you.”

Ladybug flushed lightly at the compliments and the otherwise sweet words, but to her credit, her voice didn’t even waver when she replied (unlike usually), “I just haven’t had the energy and time to change it yet. It’s magic, can’t change it that easily.”

“Oh, okay. Well, try and see if you can recognise all of us!”

Ladybug bit her lip and looked at each and every one of them separately, her calculating eyes feeling like they could see right through all of them. She walked between them and around them, a sly grin appearing on her face.

“Well, Bats here is probably Mr Wayne. He’s the oldest of all and I strongly doubt any of you could be doing what you are if he didn’t know — unless, of course, it was Alfred, and I don’t doubt Alfred’s skills at all, but I’m pretty sure that back when Robin wasn’t there yet, someone needed to look after Batman and I honestly think only Alfred could have that much power on him. So. Mr Wayne.”

Batman took off his cowl, indeed revealing Bruce himself.

As she moved on to Nightwing, she winked and laughed with an “I did do my homework on the flight here. Seriously, did you think I wouldn’t?” Then she turned to look Nightwing in the eye (or, would have looked him in the eye if not for his domino. “I’m going to say Dick. I’ve been watching you all while I’ve been here — in both forms, it seems —, and I doubt any of you could pull some of the moves, or the attitude, Nightwing does, except for Dick. Don’t give me that look, you did jump from the balcony at some point last week, landing safely on the ground after showing off and doing like a million spins and somersaults.”

Tim laughed. “Dick, I told you, someone else besides me was going to recognise you for your somersaults one day.”

“You too?”

“Oh yeah, I worked out Dick’s, Bruce’s and then Jason’s original identities because of Dick’s quadruple-somersault when I was a kid. Nightwing’s identity wasn’t difficult either since, well, it was obviously the previous Robin.”

“Of course you would.”

Then she turned to Oracle in her wheelchair. “Anyway. I know you’re Barbara, and I’m so glad to see you here too, but I’m nor sure about you alias,” she said, her voice clearly apologetic for the fact.

“It’s alright,” Barbara comforted her and gave her a smile, “I wasn’t expecting you to know it. I’m Oracle, it’s nice to meet you. I’ll probably get you on the comms at some point as well because managing things is what I do now. The woman in the chair, if you will,” she continued, making Marinette chuckle. Tim loved the sound.

“Then the big bad Red Helmet over there is Jason — no, seriously, Jay, why in the world are you the Red Hood if you aren’t even wearing one?” she asked, her face twisting as she looked at him. God, Tim loved this girl, she would happily stab any of their fashion sense with a smile on her face, and honestly, the helmet was horrible. Her words earned her snickers from all around the room. She was obviously pleased with herself as Jason took off his mask and gaped at her, offended.

She didn’t even pay him attention too much, continuing on with her list. “The scowling Robin over there is definitely Damian, only he could pull off those expression with a hint of Bat in them, and the current Batgirl is obviously Stephanie. Duke is the Signal — that was your name, right? Oh, and Cass, you’re Black Bat, aren’t you?” At Cass’ nod and her revealing her face, Marinette let out a sigh of relief. “You’re one of the only ones here with an acceptable suit.”

Ladybug transformed back into Marinette, a small creature appearing from her… earrings? before hiding inside her jacket. Tim decided to ignore it, maybe it was nothing. Marinette turned around, spinning on her heel to face Bruce. “Like, I know you need protection because there’s no magic to do so, but you could have protection with suits that looked less ridiculous and atrocious than this,” she said, motioning at their clothing. “That actually goes to most of you. I especially hope there’s a really good reason and a story behind Robin’s colours, because otherwise I will not possibly be able to understand why anyone would go around as a vigilante in colours this bright.”

“There is a reason behind the color choices,” Dick said disturbingly quietly from where he was standing. “They were my family’s colors.”

Marinette winced lightly — she too knew what had happened to them on that fateful night. “Alright. That’s a good reason, even if they’re still horrible colour choices. That would make you the first Robin, right?” Dick nodded. “It’s understandable for you to want to use your family’s colours.” Her solemn tone indicated she accepted Dick’s reason for it completely, telling them all she felt bad for saying they were horrible but knew she wouldn’t back off — and they wouldn’t blame her for that either —, and they all knew she was going to leave arguing and pressing for explanations away completely. Her limitless capability of empathy was admirable.

Then she turned back to Tim. “Is that offer about training still on the table? I’d love to take it if so. I could probably win any of you as Ladybug because magic and a goddess in my pocket, also known as Tikki— Oh, actually! Tikki, come on out, come say hi to Tim!”

A small red, ladybug-like creature flew from under her jacket to Tim, smiling brightly. He immediately recognised it as the fairy he’s seen earlier. “Hi! I’m Tikki, the goddess — or as we like to call ourselves, the kwami — of creation. It’s lovely to finally meet my holder’s soulmate!”

“It’s, uh, nice to meet you as well, I guess? I take it you’re the one that helps Marinette transform,” Tim said, a little confused by the flying, speaking creature.

“Yup, I’m an ancient being, older than anything and everything else, so while she’s not the only one I’ve helped — the history is full of Ladybugs —, she’s my current holder. Remember that if you hurt her, while Adrien can do a lot of destruction and damage —” there seemed to be a double meaning behind those words but he just couldn’t figure out what it was. “—I will be the one you actually want to look out for!”

Tikki’s words were single handedly the single most terrifying thing Tim had ever heard, and it did not help at all that she was smiling all through it, her voice gentle and kind, her entire demeanour bright even when she was threatening him. He didn’t even want to know what a goddess of creation could do as retaliation.

“If I hurt her, I’d let you do whatever you wanted,” Tim finally heard himself say. Those words were surprisingly true and ran deep, he realised. It… should honestly have been alarming. It was not.

“Good, you understood quickly. This one’s good, let’s keep him.” Tikki patted his head — and such a weird image it must have been, a creature maybe the size of his hand patting his head —, bringing Tim comfort for some reason. He had absolutely no idea how she managed it, being terrifying and so sweet and safe at the same time. He could totally see where Marinette got it from. “Also, some of you have definitely been in close — too close — touch with the Lazarus Pit, this place reeks of it. Marinette, tell me, why haven’t we already taken Plagg with us to the Lazarus Pit and gotten rid of it for good?”

Marinette shrugged, unaware of what was happening in the background behind her — Jason gaping, Bruce in shock, Damian just staring at them like he had seen a ghost, which was a rather disturbing picture because sometimes it seemed the boy could get fazed by nothing. The rest looked just confused. Maybe he should just leave them be and try to focus on Marinette and Tikki right now. “Jeez, Tikki, I have no idea. Maybe, maybe it’s because this has got to be the first time I hear about them and honestly, it should be more disturbing than it is that I, for some reason I don’t want to know, actually know what you’re talking about. Is that a guardian thing?”

Tikki nodded before speaking. “Well, we have to do it at some point. Let’s take the cat with us as well, I’m sure he’d prefer not to be left alone if we’re taking Plagg with us anyway. For now, though, I’m sure we can talk about it later.”

Tim shook his head, trying to concentrate. “Yeah, the offer is still on the table. I’d be happy to train you. You’d also get training from the Bat himself if you wanted — he actually insisted on it before this,” he laughed. “But yeah, I’ll be there anyway. Fun soulmate bonding and all that, right? Fighting, training and sparring until we can no longer stand on our own two feet, that’s all anyone could ever want,” he mused, odd warmth filling his chest as Marinette chuckled at his comment.

“Yes, you get it. Finally someone gets it — looking at you, Chat. Having said that, I do have to tell you it’s a little awkward and a huge coincidence you happened to ask me if I wanted to become a vigilante, as I was kind of going to ask you the same.”

“Huh?”

“You just beat me to revealing your identity and asking. I was wondering if you’d like to try using a miraculous, you know? It’s so much fun unless you’re trying to save an entire city that’s flooding and your partner is not doing what he’s supposed to and you have maybe five minutes left after you use your special ability but other than that, it’s great. I know you sometimes get even magical threats here, and I’m sure you’d rather be able to deal with them yourself instead of having to get the magic users not from here involved every single time since it’s your city. Also, since I’m not going to quit being Ladybug, and I will be out there doing my thing, I’d like to have my soulmate in the team sometimes as well, by my side. Obviously, you can refuse, but like, I could see you being a good snake. Sass would like you.”

Tikki nodded, clearly agreeing with Marinette. He knew better than to ask if they realised what sass meant, or to tell them that he was already familiar with sass, since it was probable this Sass was one of the Kwamies. Kwamiis. Kwamii? He had no idea.

Then she turned around to face the others whose attention — all of it — went immediately to her when she focused hers at them. “It could also be fun to see how any of you work with a miraculous once I get to know you better and know which kwamii would fit to each of you — I do have quite many of them travelling with me, after all,” she said, and the smile playing on her lips was easy to hear from her words. Come the next words (and the jab at most of them), Tim also knew for sure there was a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes. “That, and the kwamii come up with alright costumes most of the time even if you have no idea how to design a good one yourself. The suits are much safer than yours, too, because again, magic . And god-given powers, quite literally.”

The little fairy — kwami, wasn’t it? ... she. Something. — settled herself on Marinette’s head while Marinette took out a small box from her purse, opening it. A bright light with a yellowish or orange hue appeared in front of her as another one of the kwamii took form. Marinette put on a necklace that looked like a fox’s tail, which honestly looked logical as it resembled the kwami as well — if they had something to do with each other, that is.

“Heya Marinette! What is it today? Ooohhh, there are more people to mess with today! The cat isn’t here, I see… Wait, is this the soulmate thing you and Chat discussed? Is one of them your soulmate? Do I actually get to meet him before any of the others do?” The fox looking kwami seemed excited and it was a little bothersome to realise how much the kwami reminded him of Bart. They would probably get along, if they ever got the chance to meet. Probably not.

“Well, Tikki met him already, but yes, you’ll get to gloat about this to Plagg, Wayzz, Mullo, Longg and the others. Except for Duusu, that’s forbidden. She’s not in a good enough mental state for that yet. But anyway, Trixx, Tim is my soulmate, the one that’s probably standing right behind me right now unless he actually somehow managed to stay still even in the presence of something new he doesn’t understand just yet,” she said and pulled out two cookies, handing one to each kwamii present. Tim flushed as he realised she knew exactly where he was and why he was there.

Marinette didn’t pay any attention to any of them anymore, only the kwami in front of her.

“Besides, you complained about not having gotten to patrol in a long while last night and as it seems they don’t hate the idea of a miraculous user here, yet anyway — not that it would stop me, honestly, you guys need to get out and be used sometimes and as the guardian, it’s kind of my responsibility —, they might even let me patrol with them and thus give you a chance to go around. Chaton and Plagg won’t be there, though, and I’m not going to tell him about them, so keep your mouth shut. I know you love knowing things others don’t, but you don’t get to tell them because then you won’t be able to keep the knowledge of more heroes to yourself, and I’d honestly rather have Chat and Plagg only know I’ve told my soulmate now so he’s free to tell his. Also, they—”, she pointed at his family, “—Get to keep their secrets, so there’s that too.”

It felt a little too familiar to hear Marinette call someone Chaton, and it irritated Tim to no ends to know that he knew the one Marinette had called Chaton earlier by name, but yet could still only connect it to Chat Noir and Chat Noir only.

Trixx flew around Tim’s head a few times until deciding on landing on top of it. The kwami started to eat the cookie, still there on top of his head, damnit, leaving cookie crumbles in his hair. “Hello there, Marinette’s soulmate! You seem rather interesting. Are you going to be trying to use one of us? It’s going to be so much fun seeing what kind of a hero you could become with our help!”

But, just as Tim was about to answer, an alarm went off in the cave. They all knew it was a villain attack, and soon all of them got notifications of said attack to their phones, computers, tablets, clocks, anything they had promised to carry around everywhere for this specific thing. Tim groaned and ran a hand down his face.

Not now, we don’t have time for this.

Even so, Tim ran off to put on his suit. There was a big chance Marinette would be coming along since she was, apparently, already used to villains (even if quite different from theirs), and he wanted to be there to see it.

At least Trixx let him leave without following.

⬷۵⤐

Marinette watched in wonder as everyone got a move on the second the alarm went off. It was so different from Paris. She hoped the civilians had more basic common sense than Parisians did, too, and would try to escape the danger zone instead of trying to get into it.

Barbara went to get a small piece of technology before wheeling to her. She took Marinette’s hand and pressed it on her palm. “Here. This is a comm. I want you to wear it when you’re out in the field at all times so you’ll be able to contact everyone, me included, at any time you need. They can also contact you if they’re in need of help or something. That, and I’ll be able to locate you at any point I want or need to, so yes, you have to use it,” she told her, but Marinette gave it back. Under Barbara’s rather scary and very unimpressed glare, she decided to give in. After all, she was — even bound to a wheelchair — one of the scariest of them. She was also one of Marinette’s favourites in the family and would probably admit this to any of them at any given time, so she reasoned that played a part in her decision as well.

“Fine, I’ll take it, but I need to transform first or it will disappear, though I’m pretty sure I could actually connect my own, safer communicator to yours,” she said before stepping back. “You might want to close your eyes, the light can be blinding. Tikki, spots on!”

Once the bright light went away, she got ready to unify Trixx and Tikki together. It would take her a lot of energy, but the stealth abilities Trixx came with were useful, as were the illusions, especially in a city such as Gotham, and Tikki, well, Marinette knew how to work with her the best, and the Miraculous Cure Tikki provided was the best thing ever since it could repair anything and everything if she was involved in it with the miraculous (and better yet, no one would need to pay for said repairs.) “Tikki, Trixx, unify!”

“Alright, I’m done now. I can take the comm now if you so insist,” she said, opening her palm and waiting for Barbara to hand it to her again. “You can call me Lady Vixen for now until I come up with a better name, Oracle.”

Oracle smiled at her and dropped the comm on Lady Vixen’s palm. She put it on, adjusting it until it no longer felt uncomfortable in her ear. Red Robin had just finished suiting up by then as well, and with a grin on his face, he stepped to her side. He brushed over her wrist with his fingers and she did the same to him, because even with their suits covering up the skin of their wrists, it made them more comfortable, more at ease, more focused. Happier. They turned to look at the rest of the family, waiting for the go-ahead since she still needed one from at least Batman.

After Batman nodded to her and smiled (which honestly was not a smile and looked more like a grimace, like seriously, Mr Wayne needed some help with how to smile), Nightwing gave her a bright smile (like, an actual smile, unlike Batman’s) and said, “Welcome to the team!”

She didn't reply, she knew she didn’t need to, and decided that swinging off with her soulmate was going to be enough.

Yeah, she was happy to be a part of the team, a part of the family.

Especially if her soulmate was going to be there for her and stay at her side through all of it.

____

@the-navistar-carol @kris-pines04 @thethirdwheelfriend @daminett4life

[squeeneyart]

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter Fourteen

AO3

Beta read as always is @thesnadger​

Martin returns a lost item.

It's cleaning day. 

She was still in bed.

Martin breathed out his nose. This was normal, what with the early hours he kept. Still, as he shut the door, the smallest amount of tension left his shoulders. His mother would wake up in a few hours and go about her day as usual with what energy she had. Things were normal. 

He pressed his forehead to the wood.

She hadn’t been holding her skin.

Stowed it away, perhaps, to keep it close and secure instead of sitting in the corner of a stuffy attic. Tucked out of sight, as if it had never been there. If this was what she wanted, fine. He would leave it. He stepped away and continued with his morning, leaving the silence undisturbed.

His routine dragged on, and yet before he knew it he’d sped through the whole thing. Teeth, shower, some small nothing of a breakfast that he barely managed to get down. Pill box set on the counter, the previous day’s dose empty. Some dishes left in the sink that he hadn’t gotten to the night before quickly rinsed and set aside. Then, before he felt any time truly pass, he was slipping on his shoes.

His bag felt heavy as he lifted it from the table, though the sketchbook inside was no physical burden. This would be over soon, he told himself. It made no difference to his nervous insides.

He should’ve gotten more sleep.

It had been a mistake to stumble out of the house the night before. He could’ve complied with his mother’s demand for solitude by simply leaving the room and going upstairs to his own bed. Instead, he’d had to be walked home late at night like a drunk after last call. And above all, he was up earlier than usual, the final nail in his sleepless coffin. 

Martin rubbed away some of the exhaustion from his eyes and hefted the bag more securely onto his shoulder. Upon exiting his home he was met with a dreary, drizzling morning that sprayed his glasses with tiny droplets. Before long he would have to wipe them, but he kept his umbrella stored away.

“No reason to look up,” he muttered to himself, turning his back on the sea. It churned and scattered itself over the rocks. “Nothing but water in your eyes.”

It was easy enough to focus on the path as it sloped upward, and when he reached town he turned to walk on a street perpendicular to his normal route, that towering thing clawing at this periphery. He had another destination to avoid eye contact with first.

On the way he passed the storage house, doing his best to look like an uninterested pedestrian. It was hard not to stare. So quiet in the early morning, the building could’ve been unused for years if Martin hadn’t known better. 

He shook his head. There was no more business to be had there, at least for the moment. If none of them had been tracked down by the police (or worse), it wasn’t worth worrying about. No, the only person who knew about their little investigation was ahead of him, and like a fool Martin had to trust that he would keep this whole thing quiet.

The house was probably the same as it had been. Martin couldn’t tell, as he kept his eyes away from its large frame and numerous windows. The front gate was open and inviting, the mouth of a whale waiting for the tiniest specks of sea life to float inside.

A woman in a neat suit stood at the front door, apparently waiting for him. “Martin. Simon told me to expect you. No problems, I assume?”

“No.” Martin sifted through his bag and handed her the sketchbook.

“Wonderful. I’ll deliver this to him for you.” She lightly brushed at the cover, lips parting in a smile. “Also, Simon wished for me to tell you that the view from up high later today won’t be one to miss.”

Her face said to be excited, as if she were telling him discreetly of a meteor shower or a fireworks display. A fun, secret end to his family vacation that wasn’t mentioned in the brochure. She tucked the sketchbook under her arm, never letting the friendly grin drop.

“Have a nice day,” she said, through her sparkling teeth. The door was promptly shut in his face.

Backing away, Martin almost looked up at the windows overlooking the front of the house, then snapped his head back down. There was nothing for him up there but dark glass and rainwater.

--

“That’s…hm.” Jon grimaced in his chair. “It’s certainly ominous.”

Martin sat at his small desk making a modest attempt at getting his work done. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be looking out the windows later.”

Jon nodded. “Yes, that would be for the best. I am concerned, though. The possibility of that book being something more significant hadn’t crossed my mind with everything else going on. If I’d had more time to think, I would’ve asked to take a look at it.”

Across from Jon, Tim was flipping through Martin’s work contract with some intensity. Without looking up, he said, “Well, there’s no helping it now. It probably would’ve just given you a headache, or worse. Martin, is there a list of- oh, wait, I found them.”

Sasha leaned over to look at the pages in Tim’s hand, chewing on the inside of her cheek. When Martin had come in for the day, the three had already settled into their workplaces with a strange energy about them. Sasha in particular had been on edge, seemingly unable to sit for too long. 

When he’d asked about this, her only response had been, “Elias hasn’t contacted us yet.”

Jon had argued that it was early, that he had sent out an email the night before and Elias might not have seen it, but there were lines of worry etched in his forehead and at the corners of his eyes. 

Or perhaps he was also in need of a better night’s sleep. If Martin had to guess, none of them were running at full capacity. If combing through his incredibly boring work contract helped Tim and Sasha them feel productive, so be it.

“Well, whatever the book was,” Jon continued, “when you go upstairs later, make sure to take Sasha or myself with you. We’ve been largely unaffected by this place, so if anyone is to follow up on Fairchild’s… tip, it should be one of us.”

“He’s the type to rile people up for fun. Maybe it’s nothing.” Martin couldn’t even convince himself.

“Not worth the risk, what with the symptoms you and Tim have exhibited.” Jon glanced at the other two, who did not look away from their reading. He cleared his throat. “Better to be safe in this circumstance, I think.”

The group fell back into silent work, Martin at his desk, Jon on his laptop, and the other two scanning line after line of employment agreements and mind-numbing blocks of text Martin probably hadn’t read before signing. When he’d gone over it days before, there had been no secret clauses or double meanings. Maybe they would have more luck.

Tim eventually spoke up. “Huh. Martin, have you done any of the cleaning bit since we’ve arrived?”

Martin raised his eyebrows. “What? Sorry, did I leave a mess in the sink or-”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Tim tapped the back of his hand onto the page in front of him. “Says here you’re basically the janitorial staff. Something about having to go through the place and clean everything.”

“Oh. Right, yeah, it’s part of my job since no one else works here.” Heat crept up his neck. He’d completely forgotten in the week’s excitement. He muttered to himself, “Shit. I’d better get that done today. If Peter comes in tomorrow and sees it’s a mess-”

“Don’t worry, we won’t interrupt. Just tell us if we need to move anything.”

Martin nodded and pushed himself out of his chair. “Thanks for reminding me. It’s not a priority most of the time since it’s just me, but at the very least he’ll notice if the floors are bad.” And with all the weather and the people, they absolutely were. Goodness.

Tim clicked his tongue. “Can’t have him thinking of us as an intrusion, not if we want to keep the work going.”

“God, I hadn’t even thought about that.” Martin walked over to the closet and began to pull out cleaning supplies. It would have to be the kitchen first, then the floors…

Before long, he’d settled into his cleaning routine. All of the dishes were properly washed instead of just rinsed out, not that the tea stains would be coming off anytime soon. He did his best to mop the main area without disturbing the researchers. Besides some lifting of feet, there were no interruptions on his part.

He would have to go over some spots later, but there was no helping it with all these people about. With so many shoes on the tile and all the rotten weather, the place had gotten dirty and slick. He really would need to get a better mat for the front door if people were to come in more often, especially once it started snowing.

Pushing that thought gently aside, Martin walked toward the stairs with his mop and bucket full of sudsy water. 

“Wait, you really have to lug that all the way up?” Sasha asked. 

“Yeah…” Martin sighed and started climbing. “There’s nowhere to fill a bucket up there, but people go up just enough that it gets dirty.” 

From behind him, there was the sliding of chairs on tile. He looked back. Sasha led the other two toward him and said, “With what Fairchild said, it’s best not to risk anyone going up there alone. Besides, I want another look at the windows before it goes weird.”

“Okay… Just don’t look too far down when you do.” He glanced behind her. “Tim, are you sure you don’t want to-”

“Oh, I’ll be staying nice and safe in the center of the room where I can keep an eye on everyone.” Tim smiled with at least some humor. “Besides, you were right. The contract was a terrible read.”

Martin shrugged and continued his ascent with everyone trailing behind. He wouldn’t bother with the stairs until he was on his way down, in part due to safety but also because it was the biggest pain to keep the bucket balanced. 

Halfway up the stairs the shoulder pain kicked in as it usually did, near his neck and right between the shoulder blades. He knew it must’ve been from holding things wrong in some way. Maybe the shifting weight of the water messed with his muscles, but no matter how he held himself he had always managed to get at least a crick in his neck.

“Martin?” Jon said, sounding distant at the back of the line. “Is everything okay?”  

Martin hummed in response, stretching his neck. He didn’t work with proper posture, so that was almost definitely a factor. Setting a timer could be helpful. How often were people supposed to stand and move when sitting for a long time? Every thirty minutes? That seemed a bit too often, but he was no expert in muscles or spines. 

He wasn’t an expert in anything, really, but in this case he could at least google it. How often had he told himself he would google ‘when should you get up sedentary job?’ without doing so? Was thirty years when things started going wrong with your back? Martin was a tall man, and his back had never been great, not with his lifestyle or all the lifting he sometimes had to do at home, but he knew being tall could really mess up the spine. Herniated discs were apparently-

“Martin!” Sasha’s voice snapped, echoing up into the stairwell.

The sound of steps behind him had stopped. Martin paused and looked over his shoulder to find Sasha’s hand on it, giving it a shockingly forceful shake. The three of them seemed to sag in relief. Tim was gripping the handrail and leaned his head against the wall, while Jon just looked at him with his hands raised as if to prod Martin’s arm.

With a nervous laugh, Martin flicked his eyes between them. “W-what’s going on? You look like you’ve seen-”

“Martin, what just happened?” Sasha asked. Her fingers continued to dig into his shoulder, keeping him in place.

“We… walked up the stairs? I carried a bucket?” He lifted the bucket up as evidence, then stared at it. “Sorry, did some of the water splash out and make the stairs slippery? I tend to overfill it, but-” 

Jon cut him off. “Let’s just- we’ll talk when we get upstairs.” He glanced behind himself with some alarm and hurried to the front of the group.

Martin was about to argue, to say that no, if something happened he deserved to know- but one look at their faces was enough to shut him up as they resumed the trek upward. He gripped tight the bucket and mop. 

It became clear on the quiet walk that the others were waiting for something. Sasha kept lightly squeezing Martin’s shoulder as if to push him forward. Only once did they stop for Tim to get his bearings, after several instances of Tim waving off his own stumbles as nothing.

From the front Jon regularly looked over his shoulder, usually at Martin but occasionally past him down the winding steps. Martin attempted to catch his eye more than once to raise an eyebrow at him, but the man was distracted by whatever it was that had everyone all in a tizzy. 

Besides those tiny moments of confusion, it was easy enough to settle into the now familiar headspace of focusing on Jon’s back and not thinking too hard about it all.

Finally, thankfully, they reached the upper floor. Bright morning light filtered through the panes of glass, a startlingly intense change from the stairwell. Despite this, Martin shivered. If he dared go near the windows, he thought, would they be at all warm?

Sasha’s hand guided him to a small, faded couch in the corner. He set the cleaning supplies onto the floor, sat with his hands together in his lap, and waited.

Sasha began, “So, I’m sure that was… strange for you.”

“I mean, yeah?” Martin replied. He started rubbing a thumb into the back of his hand. “Clearly something happened that I don’t know about.”

Sasha looked around at the other two before fishing her phone out of her pocket. “Well. Before we get into that, there’s something you should hear. Late last night, I received an interesting voicemail.” 

Martin’s eyes grew wide. “Wait, she actually-”

“She didn’t actually claim to be anyone. Understandably suspicious.” Sasha looked at her phone and pulled something up on it. “Nevertheless, she had some… advice.”

She tapped the phone, then held it out.

A tired, irritated voice came through, muffled with static. “I’m not interested in talking, not if you’re involved with those people, that family. They’ve harassed me, stalked me, who knows what else.” 

There was a quick sigh. “But you found my number and just... called me. No one would blow all that work on such a weak lie unless they were being sincere. I guess. Or it’s just easier to hope that someone else sees that something is wrong.”

“So, before I realize this is a bad idea, tell this to whoever they got to replace him: Don’t assume incompetence. They know how to get away with things. It’s all making you ignore what’s right in front of you because, no, of course it must be a mistake or a typo. It’s about getting away with a lie without actually lying.” Another sigh. 

“That’s where he went, or where they took him, I know it. When he came out from- from wherever the first time, he found me losing it on the stairs after he-.” The person laughed, just barely. “Almost dropped the stupid water bucket when he saw me there. He was always- no. No. If you’re really trying to figure things out, then best of luck to you. You’re probably fucked, but either way, don’t… don’t go in alone. You’ll just get lost. Don’t bother calling this number again.” Click.

For a moment Martin stared at the phone. Her voice had been cracking near the end, and he pushed down the bile that rose in his throat. “This is, um… So, she saw something, and that something was…”

Tim nodded, fishing a folded page of the contract out of his pocket and giving it over to Martin. “She was right. It’s the smallest detail. No one would think it’s anything other than a mistake.” 

Slowly, Martin unfolded the page listing his general duties. It took him a moment, but after scanning a few lines he found it. His stomach twisted. “‘Upper floors’. There’s only the main floor and the top floor, nothing else.”

“Apparently not,” Jon said, sitting on the arm of the couch. “Because about halfway up the stairs you disappeared straight into a wall.”

[bisluthq]

Hello! So, I am a two muse theory doubter (yes read realistic Kay too a couple of times). Like, I want to believe. I have even tried to force it in my mind but it doesn’t take. The reason is - TMT fails to consider the fluctuations of emotional highs, lows, love and lust over the initial 2 year period of a relationship. Like, I am a semi profesh song writer with a muse. The variety of POV I write from are extensive. Life is an emotional pendulum and our experiences make it swing. On any given day, our perspectives and emotions can complete change for a given moment towards a muse. I can love my muse for the rest of my life but hate them with the same passion on any given day, go to my piano and write it into a song and feel indifferent to it later (the good and bad end up in songs). When I listen to Rep, it’s range of intensities I easily apply to my one muse. Taylor herself saying Dress, Delicate, CIWYW & NYD her true story on the album reads like she is just pointing to her average daily experiences with 1 muse. If Delicate is Joe & Dress is Karlie - Taylor separated her finding “love amongst the chaos” into loving two people in her true story. If you actually timeline those particular songs it’s Dress (a lustful hook up), to Delicate (wanting to make it official), CIWYW (the pressure of making it official) and NYD (the challenge of commitment). Unless “Dress” leads her to “Delicate”, why include it at all in her true love story line up? Like, was it a last minute attempt to hetsplain that song years after it came out?🤷‍♀️ by her including NYD in her true love story of Rep, it ties via the ‘squeeze my hand three times in taxi’ lines to cruel summers crying in the backseat lines (which is also the circumstantial vibe of CIWYW). The backseat crying lines of Cruel Summer ties to the Cornelia Street vibe (which Taylor writes later as a reflection of the whatever happened after the Delicate moment) which ties back to Delicate via the bar lines and forward later in time to Gold Rush via the creaks / wooden in the floor lines. I mean, all this says to me there is 1 muse of her true story - which could be Joe (but that cancels out the sapphic nature of dress) or Karlie (which means this illicit affair on joshy-boy really did happen somewhere between 100 and a million times). Tbh, I tend to believe the later. So you’ll be like okay what about LSS, Invisable String then fruitcake? (Fair call future sleuth haha). Or what about babygate and joshlie marriage?! Like, wbk that affair was at least long and messy AF. Folklore and Evermore were written last year and Lover period was fairly chaotic and clunky at best (presumably because of masters heist). Like, they MUST have broken up (FG, DBATC, Daylight, The 1, Cardigan saga, TIMT, Hoax, Peace, Exile, Coney Is, Evermore, RWYLM, CP, Happiness, TTDS). Like, they all have 1 muse energy of losing someone you love through messiness (could be joe🤷‍♀️ we’ll never know for sure). But many of these songs refer to a third person being involved which screams Joshlie to me because of ivy, illicit affair, the bitterness of “The Man”. Baby, you say? Like it’s pretty simple - Karlie went back to Josh, married him and had a baby and Taylor’s like “uhh, what a fucking joke” and processed it last year through writing two albums about it all. Invisable string, LSS - like these are both songs which come from a POV of self-reflection after hope is lost. Maybe reunited after preggo-gate? Maybe consolidated love after break up into friendship aka Dorothea? WB - quite simply - WB is the model to which Taylor writes about whatever she wants to (triangulation of desire). Good for her, great writing strategy. Is it a strategy needed? Well ya, but only if it’s born of having 1 muse and a very obvious story Taylor is trying to obscure. Like, come at me sleuth cuz I reallllly want to believe in two muse story. I wouldn’t even had bothered writing this if I didn’t. What am I missing?

Hey Sim here. So Nat broke protocol and sent me this one to answer because I too am a writer and I too at one point reached that point in the lyric analysis where I literally could not fathom any timeline I was hearing that made sense due to the connections in the lyrics between Reputation and Lover. I have a whole spreadsheet called “Car Bar Roof” where I’m just trying to make sense of a series of events through lyrics alone and I nearly drove myself crazy doing it.

With that being said, I want to give a disclaimer: Nothing wrong with you interpreting things your own way! I know Nat can come off kind of brash sometimes, but both of us are always hyper-aware that we are discussing what essentially amounts to a “Taylor Swift Is Gay” conspiracy theory and because it’s a conspiracy theory and we don’t know these people, no analysis is ever going to be 100% correct. If you don’t hear two muses on Rep, that’s totally fine! I’m sure we have some Toe/Swiftwyn readers who would agree with you there!

I do want to caution against relying entirely on lyric parallels to create a timeline, however. You’re going to dig yourself into a rabbithole that’s very hard to get out of. I think a lot of people don’t realize that Taylor has been using a lot of metaphors (especially the car and the bar) her entire career. It ends up being a big stretch to assume that just because two events in two different songs both take place in a car or a bar, Taylor is talking about the exact same moments. Like, let’s be real, how many times have any of us ever been in a car? Wouldn’t it be kind of ridiculous for a critic of our work to assume everything we write involving a car is about the same specific time we were in a car?

It is also incredibly easy to construct false narratives when you rely only on song analysis. I’ll give you an example using Taylor’s first high school boyfriend, Drew. Whether you believe it or not, he’s often cited as the inspiration for Tim McGraw. The song Tim McGraw has a variety of common themes with Taylor’s other work, the main ones being summer, dancing, the moon, a little black dress, a truck, a creek/river, and going back to school. If we follow song parallel logic, I could connect Tim McGraw to folkmore songs and, because of this, could say Taylor is still dating/writing about Drew from high school.

The little black dress in Tim McGraw is also mentioned in unreleased Live for the Little Things and The Other Side of the Door. In both Tim McGraw and Live for the Little Things, Taylor mentions a black dress and dances with her lover under the moon. A summer love that ends with going back to school can also be found in August, and Cruel Summer and August are very similar songs, in that both are about a summer love that can’t last and isn’t being taken as seriously by one person as another. The Other Side of the Door is almost the exact same premise of an ex at your doorway as I Almost Do, Dark Blue Tennessee, All You Had to Do Was Stay, and exile, meaning all those songs must be connected as well. Dancing with someone in the middle of the night can also be found in Everything Has Changed, 22, and Dancing With Our Hands Tied. As a bonus, trucks and dancing are also mentioned in Champagne Problems, which connects to Gold Rush, So It Goes, and Dancing With Our Hands tied through the use of the color Gold. So It Goes also mentions wearing black and meeting someone in the middle of the night. So all those songs have to be about Drew as well.

So here’s the narrative that makes: Taylor and Drew dated over a summer then broke up when he went back to school but at some point he came back to her door and they got back together. They mostly hung out in the middle of the night, driving around and dancing. Unfortunately, when he proposed, Taylor couldn’t say yes, and literally left him stranded on the dance floor and is now #foreveralone and writing folkmore to process these events.

To be clear, I don’t actually believe any of this. I don’t think anyone else does either, but since neither Taylor nor Drew have publicly interacted in over a decade, this can be easily disproved, despite the “obvious” way the songs connect. Taylor just likes certain themes. Cars and bars. Nature. The contrast of light and dark. Sparks and fire. I guarantee if you go over her unreleased songs and first two albums with the same fine tooth comb you’ve gone over Folkmore/Lover/Reputation/1989 with, you’ll find just as many lyric parallels, and it’s not because she’s only writing about one person.

Occams Razor tells me Kaylor’s not on good terms anymore. It also tells me Karlie and Josh are actually having a child together. From the outside, it looks like things have been bad since at least the Masters Heist, if not before, and the more digging we’ve done, the more evidence we find of that. Now, you don’t have to believe that if you don’t want to! As long as you don’t go around harassing people we’ve got no beef with you. Just know you’re always going to find song parallels to back up whatever you want because Taylor’s such a prolific songwriter who loves to use the same themes again and again. That’s just deductive reasoning, baby. Thanks for the discourse though! LMK if you wanna chat song analysis sometime!

[fizzyxcustard]

Fear and Loathing (4)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

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Fandom: seaQuest 2032

Summary: (Part 2 of The Right Thing - this will be a chaptered fic) Captain Hudson knows that you and Lucas are more than just friends, and after changing your shift rotations to make sure you’re not on duty together, you take things into your own hands and request a transfer from seaQuest. Before your transfer can be processed, officers and crew begin showing signs of extreme anxiety, anger and paranoia. Some are worse affected than others, you being one of them. Can you fight for not only your relationship with Lucas but your state of mind?

Pairings: Ensign Lucas Wolenczak x FemLieutenant!Reader, Commander Jonathan Ford x Lieutenant Lonnie Henderson (only slight)

Warnings: Language, violence, insecurity, angst, paranoia, anxiety, mental instability, very mild sexual references/smut mention, age difference/gap.

Comments: If you wish to be added to my seaQuest tag list, which will be separate from all my other tags, let me know, and I will only tag you in these if you specifically request to be tagged. This is practically a dead fandom now, but I would still like to share my writings with you. If you would like to ask any questions, then by all means just ask! People are probably wondering why I’m still continuing this fic when it gets so little feedback, but it’s purely because I enjoy writing it. It’d a pleasure to be reminiscing in old times.

That night, while you remained in the Med Bay, the mess hall seemed to begin hosting a midnight coffee refreshment for a handful of crew. Lonnie Henderson wandered into the room, drying the sweat from her brow and neck after waking suddenly from a nightmare of being suffocated by unseen hands. She saw Jim Brody sat with his head in his hands, and one of the engineers was resting with their eyes closed and their feet up on a chair.

“Tough night?” Lonnie asked, approaching Brody.

He gasped suddenly, nearly jolting out of his chair. “Yeah….ugh…..sorry,” he grumbled, and rubbed his face, trying to force himself more fully awake.

“What’s going on tonight?” Lonnie asked. “No one can sleep and everyone is on edge.” She then said your name and her eyes widened. “Do you think it’s got anything to do with her and the virus?”

“I doubt it,” Brody scoffed. “A virus that gives panic attacks and nightmares?”

“Come on, Jim. We’ve seen things more unbelievable than that in the last two years. We’ve contacted aliens and come face to face with Greek gods, yet we can’t believe that a virus may exist which causes panic and fear?”

Lucas remained in the Med Bay that night, falling asleep next to your bed. The gentle beeping of the monitors swept him into a dream. There was water, screams and fear. They were your screams; begging him for help. Lucas only remembered the cold water and your screams as he jerked awake.

Your eyes were open and you were smiling at him. “You okay? Have a bad dream?” you asked, yawning. You felt groggy, but strangely content, especially upon seeing Lucas.

He rushed to you, cupped your cheek and then kissed you softly. But gradually the kiss grew deeper, and hotter, until he pulled away. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Just tired,” you replied.

“Do you want me to get you anything?”

“Can I have a cold drink, please? Soda, milk, water. Just something cold.”

Lucas left the room and you pulled yourself up slowly. A thumping headache began in your temples and behind your eyes, a sure sign of tension and stress that you knew all too well.

***

The next two days saw more crew visiting not only the mess hall at night but the Med Bay, asking for advice on nightmares and panic attacks. Even Captain Hudson had noticed that he seemed more on edge of late. There were far too many crew affected now for it not to be noticeable and not be a problem that needed addressing.

Jonathan Ford and Tim O’Neill, along with a couple of the engineers, Dagwood, the chief cook and the doctor himself, were the only people who seemed to be unaffected. Every other person was showing symptoms, to varying degrees, of fear, panic and dread.

On the third day of you being in the Med Bay, a mild sedative still in your system to calm the nightmares you were having a night, you were awoken to Lieutenant Fredricks being pulled into the room by Brody and O’Neill.

“Please, don’t. They’ll run experiments on me,” she wept, pulling against the two men either side of her.

The screams had pulled you out of another beckoning nightmare with the visiting shadow demon, who sometimes came to you at night and stood at the foot of your bed. All of the noise and commotion shook you to the core, causing a shockwave of anxiety to race through you like a power surge. But your concern for your comrade still trumped the fear you felt.

“Freddie?” you called to her. She continued weeping uncontrollably as Brody and the doctor held her down on the bed, ready to administer a sedative. “Freddie? You’ll be okay. I promise. They won’t hurt you.” You slipped out of bed, almost falling in your weakness, and you took her hand in yours. “Shhh, it’ll be okay.”

The feel of your hand in hers, and your kind words, soothed Fredricks as the sedative was administered by the doctor.

“How can she feel so much fear when she has an implant?” Brody asked.

“The virus is somehow overpowering every other emotion in those who are the worst affected,” the doctor replied. “I don’t think the sedatives, long term, will be enough. The UEO still has no idea what’s causing this. They’re requesting blood works be sent of each crew member who is affected, which is over eighty per cent. I don’t know if I can get that many reports sent over all at once in the time frame they’re asking for.”

“How long are they asking for, Doc?”

“A week. I’ve only got the capacity to run five blood samples every twelve hours. That’s ten every twenty-four hours, and there are well over a hundred crew affected by this. If this gets worse, we may have to abandon the tour and return to land to fully hospitalise and test everyone. And we don’t know how contagious this is or where it came from.”

By the end of the week, the Med Bay was full. Most of the crew were utterly exhausted through lack of sleep due to night terrors. Frequent fights were breaking out over mundane issues. The latest fight had been when Tony Piccolo had had the last croissant at breakfast, pissing off an engineer. A broken nose and black eye later, Tony found himself in the Med Bay for a couple of hours.

You still kept dreaming of the shadow demon, and often you huddled under the covers, hiding from him, just in case he appeared at the end of your bed again. The fear seemed to come in waves; you would be peaceful for a few hours and then suddenly feel the panic rise and see the shadow at the end of your bed, set with glowing eyes and saliva dripping from sharp fangs. Nights were horrendous as that’s when the most fear came out to play and it hung over you all like a thick mist. Fredricks often woke screaming in the bed next to you. The engineer in the bed opposite you had had regular seizures. Thankfully, you had only had one.

The milder cases meant that crew had to continue working, despite being exhausted. Jonathan Ford felt as though he had had no sleep in a week. Every waking moment and he was on the bridge, taking the helm for part of it while Hudson tried to ward off the anxiety that was beginning to get the better of him. Tim O’Neill hadn’t seen his quarters in days, and was often found most nights dozing off in his seat on the bridge. Dagwood had even offered to help, but his kind offer was politely rejected.

Captain Hudson had been having regular talks with Secretary McGath, and it was now becoming a viable option to abandon the tour and return to shore. However, this virus was still unknown, and the UEO would have to make sure that strict quarantine procedures were put in place once the seaQuest returned to its berth. Crew would not be able to disembark immediately. McGath reassured Hudson that everything that could be done by the UEO was being done. The blood samples were being tested; each crew member, one by one, even those who were not affected and weren’t showing symptoms. Some were being tested multiple times. Even full genome scanning had now begun to try to pinpoint some kind of link to all those affected. The UEO had already received the sub’s black box recordings, knowing exactly where it was at any given time. No other infections had been reported in the waters recently visited.

Lucas lay in his bunk, listening to Tony’s snores from below. The snores had been louder and more obnoxious since his broken nose. Lucas was scared to sleep. Dark circles were beginning to frame his blue eyes, marring his pale complexion. Every evening and he visited you, sitting with you for a couple of hours. He would read to you, trying to soothe your nerves. But Fredricks’ outbursts would put you on edge and Lucas knew that any kind of relaxation was impossible. Whenever he closed his eyes, Lucas would see the water and hear you calling for him. It all felt so real, maybe too real.

The hallways were quiet, but then he would feel the energy buzzing from the mess hall, which was usually full of half dozing crew. Should he go for a wander tonight? Maybe a swim with Darwin would help. Or would the water only exacerbate the dreams?

He didn’t know how long he lay awake, but Lucas looked up at the pipes which ran above his bunk. He looked at the photo of you both which he had taped to the metal. You had your eyes open wide, shocked, whilst Lucas was gritting his teeth, pretending to be angry. He remembered fondly all the staged photographs that Tony took of you both whenever you were on shore leave back when Captain Bridger was aboard. There was such a happiness and peace amongst the crew. He remembered when Jim Brody had attempted to flirt with you once or twice, for him only to be scoffed at. Flirting had never impressed you. Humour and compassion impressed you.

He missed you so much, and slowly he turned over, pulling a pillow to his chest, trying to imagine it was you. To think that Lucas had been prepared to give up his place on seaQuest when he met Sandra just over a year ago. She had deceived him, pretending to interested in a relationship, when she only wanted the emergency codes to gain access to seaQuest. And now he was with you. It was a much, much deeper connection, that ran right through to his bones. It had become a dependency on you, a need, and considering that you were the one who had taken his virginity, that made everything so much stronger. Even though he had always had a crush on you since your first meeting, his very brief relationship with Sandra helped him forget the unrequited feelings he had for you. But then they came back even stronger. You had been the one to pick up the pieces of his broken trust that she had left behind.

Lucas lay awake, his eyes stinging with fatigue. Until finally he jumped down from his bunk and wondered out into the hallway, venturing towards your quarters. He just wanted to be close to you in some way, even if only sleeping on your bed.

The room smelled of you, sweet and flowery. And as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him, Lucas smiled to himself. There was a small stack of books on your desk with a pot of pens, all alongside your computer. A potted, ornamental plant and two matching china owls decorated the desk.

On your bed was your favourite patchwork quilt and on the wall were photos and little drawings that you had doodled. Lucas looked closer at the photos, recognising a few of you both with other members of the crew on shore leave. Then there were pictures of you with people whom he had never seen before, no doubt old friends or family members.

Lucas lay on your bunk and wrapped himself in your quilt, inhaling. He immediately felt warmth radiate through his chest and stomach, easing the tension. Exhaustion made it impossible for him to stay awake any longer, and gradually he fell into a deep sleep.

The dream changed; it was no longer water, but darkness. A light shone in the distance, a faint candlelight and when he got closer to it, he saw that he was standing in an empty garden. A candle, resting in a glass jar was upon the grass. He picked up the candle and began to walk, following a pathway. The whole place was empty, quiet and dark. The feeling of being so alone made Lucas’ heart speed up, pounding like a drum in his chest. Where was everyone?

He began to call, hoping someone would answer. But nothing. No one was there. Everyone had deserted him.

With a gasp, Lucas woke suddenly. He wiped his cheek, only to feel a tear clinging to it.

***

Captain Hudson reluctantly agreed for UEO officers to come aboard seaQuest in two days’ time to begin the gradual emptying of the sub of all crew. The crew would be taken to a contained quarantine facility in Florida whilst tests were still being carried out and their symptoms could be monitored closer.

Secretary McGath’s image dominated Hudson’s screen in his quarters. “Captain, it’s obvious that the crew aren’t recovering from this virus, whatever it is, and bringing the seaQuest into berth could possibly cause a contamination of the coastlines.

“So you’re saying that the boat has to be left out here in the middle of the Atlantic with no crew aboard?” Hudson asked in disbelief.

“Oliver, what else do you propose we do? The biggest cause for concern is the sub’s bio skin which can quite easily carry viruses and disease. Until we know what this virus is and how it’s affecting the crew, we have no other option. seaQuest will have to remain dead in the water until our chief scientists have figured out what needs to be done. All the sub’s recordings and mission data are still being analysed.”

***

seaQuest tag list: @shrimpsthings​

[bewitching-elizabeth-olsen]

Press: A Thorough Breakdown of All the Marvel Easter Eggs on WandaVision

POPSUGAR: WandaVision has finally arrived, and it’s chock-full of hidden goodies for Marvel fans to devour! While the series is built upon a mystery that we’ll be spending a reported nine episodes trying to figure out, the smallest details in each episode provide clues on where the show is heading. From supermarket banners to foreboding commercials, viewers have an abundance of references and callbacks to classic comic lore and pivotal MCU moments. Are they setting the stage for a big reveal at the end, or are they just fun details included for fans to enjoy? While we try to figure it all out, scroll through to see what we’ve gathered! And check back every week for an episode-by-episode breakdown as WandaVision progresses.

  WandaVision Episode 5 Easter Eggs

Wanda and Vision’s brand new house, suitable for a family of four, is reminiscent of homes in ’80s sitcoms such as Full House and Growing Pains.

When Agnes comes in to offer her babysitting help, she refers to herself as “Auntie Agnes,” which is eerily close to her comic counterpart’s nickname, Auntie Agatha.

An uncomfortable break in conversation leads Agnes to ask Wanda if she wants her to “take it from the top.” Though Wanda appears confused for a moment, she readily smoothes the conversation and carries on. Vision is visibly perturbed, though Wanda attempts to redirect his attention. It seems like the facade is fading all around.

To the surprise of their parents, Tommy and Billy age up five years while the two argue over Agnes’s break in character.

This episode’s opening sequence shows Wanda and Vision growing up, which we know didn’t happen in real life for the synthezoid. The theme song sounds very similar to those from Family Ties and Growing Pains, and consists of lyrics noting that “we’re just making it up as we go along.” Sounds pretty close to how things are going with Wanda and Vision!

When Wanda’s scans come back, they’re inconclusive and show up blank. Considering Monica gains her powers due to bombardment by extradimensional energies in the comics, it’s entirely possible that the blast from Wanda back in episode three, coupled with passing through the forcefield around Westview twice, have given her those abilities. We could be seeing the rise of Photon!

While Jimmy Woo is explaining Wanda’s backstory to the agents of S.W.O.R.D., Director Hayward asks if she’s ever used a “funny nickname” like the other Avengers. She hasn’t, in fact, she’s never been referred to as Scarlet Witch in the MCU ever. Since her powers are different from her comic book counterpart, there’s never been a reason for anyone to call her a witch.

That never-before-seen post credits scene from Infinity War has officially made its debut. Director Hayward reveals footage of Wanda entering S.W.O.R.D. headquarters to steal Vision’s disassembled body. The video harks back to a moment in the comics where Vision was kidnapped and taken apart — but still very much alive. Much like that Vision, the one in Westview has his memory wiped and doesn’t remember anything before he woke up in his new world. So, the question is whether Vision is actually alive or not. Wanda’s hallucination from episode four might suggest he’s a walking corpse, but there’s more to the story.

Jimmy mentions that Wanda’s stealing of Vision’s body violates the Sokovia Accords, which haven’t been mentioned since Captain America: Civil War. Unfunnily enough, the Accords were a direct response to the mission gone wrong in Lagos where Wanda lost control of her powers and caused the death of many civilians.

Darcy mentions that Vision is playing “Father Knows Best in Surburbia,” referencing the ’50s sitcom.

Tommy and Billy find a dog that, with the help of Auntie Agnes, they name Sparky. The Vision family has a dog with that exact name in the King and Walta comics, but he’s green. Sadly, he meets a similar fate as his live-action counterpart.

Wanda blatantly uses her powers in front of Agnes, who has seemingly handled the magic around her with ease. It’s almost as if she’s used to magic.

Darcy calls the Westview anomaly the “hex” because of its hexagonal shape. Although the magic has been taken out of the phrase, Wanda’s powers are known as hexes in the comics.

Jimmy, Monica, and Darcy try to understand how Wanda can revive Vision and control the Hex, which takes much more power than she’s ever displayed before. Monica notes that Wanda has always been powerful, being the only Avenger who was close to taking down Thanos singlehandedly, which Jimmy interjects to note that Captain Marvel could as well. Both are empowered by Infinity Stones, with Carol’s Kree biology giving her a power boost.

When Jimmy brings up Captain Marvel, Monica is visibly uncomfortable and changes the subject back to Wanda. What happened there?

Vision’s office mates learn about the sweet glory that is dial-up internet! But when he and Norm open their first bit of electronic mail, it’s a transmission picked up from S.W.O.R.D. talking about the Maximoff anomaly.

Vision breaks through Norm’s conditioning, revealing that he’s under the control of a woman (alluding to it being Wanda). He directly references his family, a conversation that Jimmy mentioned in his notes in the last episode.

The twins have aged themselves up to 10 by this point and are seemingly completely aware that Wanda has control over certain aspects of life, like time. They point out that it was Saturday when they woke up, but Wanda says it’s now Monday. She apparently changed the day to send Vision to work. Is their awareness because they also have magic or because she doesn’t control them?

Monica sends an ’80s drone into Westview after working out that Wanda’s Hex is rewriting reality to suit each era occurring in the bubble, and the drone would need no era-appropriate change. Though she attempts to speak with Wanda through the drone, Director Hayward commands agents to fire a missile at Wanda instead — directly ignoring that Monica said she doesn’t see Wanda as a danger. The action results in Wanda leaving the Hex and confronting the S.W.O.R.D. agents outside. She’s wearing the suit we last saw her wearing in Infinity War and Endgame and has her accent back, although it’s much thicker than it’s been since Ultron.

Episode five’s commercial is more pointed than any of them have been. Lagos brand paper towels directly reference the city in which Wanda accidentally killed several people in Civil War by blowing up a building. Thus, the Sokovia Accords were born.

While Wanda and the twins are searching for a missing Sparky — with no one calling out the fact that Wanda disappeared for some time — the mailman tells the boys that their mom “won’t let him get far.” It seems almost like a dig at how no one can leave Westview, like the doctor mentioned during episode three.

When Agnes reveals that Sparky died after eating too many azalea bush leaves, the boys ask their mother to reverse his death. Agnes seems particularly surprised by the idea of Wanda having that ability despite having seen other displays of her power and watching the twins age up rapidly twice. Wanda tells the twins that they can’t reverse death as there are still rules to things, which almost seems hypocritical considering her circumstances. Is she trying to say that she hasn’t revived Vision? Or is she simply trying to keep her boys from expecting too much from her?

Later that night, Vision reveals that he unearthed Norm’s repressed memories and demands to know what’s going on. He tells Wanda that she can’t control him, which she cooly responds asking him, “Can’t I?” Although the credits start rolling, their argument continues as Vision unleashes his frustration with not knowing his past and his confusion over their circumstances. Wanda tells him that she doesn’t control everything, saying, “I don’t even know how all of this started.” Vision believes it began subconsciously, but chastises Wanda for letting it get that far. Wanda reiterates that she isn’t controlling everything, which gives weight to the theory that there’s someone else behind the scenes. But who could it be if Wanda isn’t the “she” that Norm was referring to?

Mid-argument, the Vision family doorbell rings, which Wanda states she didn’t do. I’m inclined to believe her because when she opens the door, she is genuinely shocked speechless. At the door is her “brother” Pietro, now sporting the face of Evan Peters. Darcy asks the question we were all thinking as the episode closes, “She recast Pietro!?”

  WandaVision Episode 4 Easter Eggs

This episode opens with the heartbreaking reveal that Monica Rambeau was one of the people lost to the Snapture from Infinity War. She returns from Endgame’s Reverse-Snap in a hospital where she had been awaiting news after her mother Maria’s surgery.

As Monica is waking up, we hear familiar voices echoing in her head. It’s Captain Marvel calling her by her childhood nickname, Lieutenant Trouble.

As Monica weaves through the chaos of people reappearing in the hospital post-Reverse-Snap, she finally locates someone who recognizes her. Although Maria survived the surgery five years ago, she died from cancer three years ago in real time, having not been blipped with her daughter.

We finally have some information on S.W.O.R.D.! The acronym stands for Sentient Weapon Observation Response Division, rather than the meaning in Marvel comics, which is Sentient World. It sounds a little more ominous, right?

Maria’s badass legacy continues well past her friendship with Captain Marvel; according to S.WO.R.D.’s acting director, Tyler Hayward, Maria helped build the agency during its inception. She was the acting director until her death.

Tim gives Monica a mission to help out the FBI in the town of WestView, NJ, where something super freaky is going on with a missing person’s case. This confirms that WestView is, indeed, a very real place.

Welcome back, Jimmy Woo! Monica’s FBI contact is none other than Scott Lang’s parole officer and semifriend, Agent Jimmy Woo.

Jimmy reveals that a person in witness protection has somehow dropped off the map in a town that no longer seems to exist where no one recalls anyone who lived there. In an attempt to figure out what’s going on, Monica sends in a S.W.O.R.D. drone that vanishes inside the forcefield. It’s revealed to have transformed into the retro-style helicopter that Wanda picks up in episode two! We can only assume that since it’s an item from the outside world, it gained color when it entered Wanda’s reality to show that it doesn’t belong.

Darcy Lewis is back! Now a doctor in astrophysics, Darcy is called to help figure out what’s gone wrong with WestView. She’s the one who figured out a signal for the broadcast and is the owner of the hand we saw watching Wanda and Vision in episode one.

The mysterious beekeeper from episode two is revealed to be S.W.O.R.D.’s Agent Franklin, who journeyed through Westview’s sewers to investigate. His hazmat suit became a beekeeper’s uniform, and the cable around his waist becomes a jump rope as he travels through the tunnels.

Darcy explains that the sitcom that’s become Wanda and Vision’s life is literally being broadcast through the signals that S.W.O.R.D.’s viewing, with an audience and everything. There’s no explanation for how this is happening, but Darcy and company watched those first three episodes just like we did, credits and all.

Darcy also points out that Vision is supposed to be dead-dead, which leaves his presence in WestView still unexplained.

While Darcy and Jimmy can identity a majority of the neighbors we’ve met in WestView to their real-life counterparts, Dottie and Agnes are the only ones who are missing real information.

It’s revealed that Agent Woo was the voice behind the radio disruption, just as we suspected! But while we can see Wanda and Dottie’s reaction to the call, Darcy’s broadcast didn’t show the same thing. She explains that someone is “censoring” the visuals they’re receiving, which means someone knows they’re watching.

Back in the sitcom WestView, we see that Monica’s slip-up resulted in Wanda blasting her through the house and the energy field. It’s the first time we physically see Wanda using her powers again, so she still has them. But the lapse in her facade has consequences — when Vision returns from his talk with Agnes and Herb outside, Wanda hallucinates him as she last saw him in Infinity War, a corpse with his head crushed in.

It’s important to note that Vision seems to become more aware of the strangeness of their world with each episode. It makes sense because no matter how human he may seem, he’s still a synthezoid who has always been able to see beyond the superficial. It harks back to his “birth” in Age of Ultron. He’s omnipotent and always learning.

When Monica lands back in the real world, all she says is, “It’s all Wanda.” That seemingly serves as an answer to what’s going on in WestView, but it’s not a whole answer. Wanda seems just as confused and unaware as everyone else, but she is willing to stay in her “perfect” world. The question is, who put Wanda in the position to have her perfect world?

  WandaVision Episode 3 Easter Eggs

Much like the comics, Wanda magically becomes pregnant! But this time around, things are progressing much more quickly, and her doctor isn’t Dr. Strange.

The first of the episode’s weird glitches happens with Wanda and Vision’s neighbor Herb, who is attempting to saw through the brick fence separating the two houses instead of trimming his hedges. When Vision points out that his aim has gone a bit askew, Herb’s detached reaction is a bit creepy. He thanks Vision but keeps sawing through the wall! And unlike the previous weird behavior, there’s nothing that triggers the moment, especially not from Vision or Wanda.

Wanda and Vision contemplate what to name their baby boy, with Vision suggesting Billy and Wanda throwing out Tommy. (The argument becomes moot when they have twins!) These are the names of the pair’s sons in the comic, who later become members of the Young Avengers. In the show, Wanda chooses her name because it’s “all-American,” which is also a fair indicator of why her perfect reality is framed around sitcoms. Vision cites William Shakespeare as his inspiration and uses a quote from As You Like It that seems pretty on the nose. “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players” seems like a pointed reference to the fact that WandaVision is, in fact, all a show.

Wanda decorates the nursery using Simser brand paint, which is most likely a nod to Jeremy Simser, a storyboard artist for Marvel Studios and WandaVision.

The second glitch appears when Wanda says the residents of WestView always seem “on the verge of discovering our secret.” Vision has a moment of sobering clarity where he notes that something is wrong in WestView, citing the incidents with Mr. and Mrs. Hart and their neighbor Herb. A second after his says this, reality glitches and the scene starts over with Vision seemingly worry-free. The last time this happened with the beekeeper, it was clear Wanda was the culprit in turning back time, but in this case, she doesn’t seem to do anything to force the change. This suggests someone else is pulling the strings.

Wanda mentions that their child could be human or “synthezoid,” a term that originates in the comics. Although fans like to joke that Vision is an android, he’s technically a synthetic human. He’s not made of metal or machinery — in the comics, his body is composed of the bioengineering tech of Dr. Helen Cho, while in the MCU, he’s made of organic tissue mixed with vibranium and “powered” by the Mind Stone.

Vision jokes that Billy will be just like his mom, which is funny because, in the comics, Billy has magical abilities similar to Wanda’s powers. Tommy ends up having superspeed abilities like his uncle, Pietro.

It’s time for the third commercial! Much like the previous episode’s watch promotion, this break references Hydra — though a tad more directly. It’s all about Hydra Soak, and the message is decidedly more pointed than we’ve had before. “Escape to a world all your own, where your problems float away,” the announcer says. “When you want to get away, but you don’t want to go anywhere: Hydra Soak.” Marvel: Agents of Shield fans will recall that Hydra Soak HAS been mentioned on the show. During the series’s Framework arc, Phil Coulson claims that Hydra is brainwashing people using soap, so he makes his own. Is the commercial another sign that Hydra is behind the mystery of WestView? Is it a warning that no one in the town will be able to get away? And what’s that about finding the goddess within?

The actors in this ad are the same ones as the previous ones, Victoria Blade and Ithamar Enriquez. Their recurring presence might mean they have some significance in Wanda’s life. Maybe they’re her parents?

In what feels like an ominous follow-up to the Hydra Soak commercial, the doctor reveals that he and his wife won’t be taking their trip away after all. “Small towns, you know, so hard to escape,” he mutters, pointedly. I think we’re starting to get the hint, folks! Wanda mentions she is a twin and that her brother was named Pietro. It’s been a hot minute since anyone has talked about MCU’s Quicksilver — he made his debut back in Age of Ultron, the same film in which he was shot and killed.

When Geraldine lets it slip that she knows about Pietro’s death at the hands of Ultron, Wanda interrogates her and discovers her necklace bears a familiar symbol — it’s that damn S.W.O.R.D. logo, and Wanda is apparently not a fan.

In another sign that something is UP, Agnes and Herb seem to warn Vision about Geraldine. They note that she’s “brand new” to town with no family and start to say that “she came here because we’re all —” before they’re cut off. It’s worth noting that the two figures that may be MCU versions of formidable Marvel characters are the ones who seem to understand that strange things are going on in WestView. If Agnes and Herb are the MCU’s Agatha Harkness and High Evolutionary, they would definitely be the ones in the know. But why would they try to warn Vision about Geraldine if WestView is a trap?

Agnes is wearing her infamous brooch as a necklace that could be referencing an MCU supervillain mentioned before. The necklace has three figures close together, with the center figure holding what looks like a giant scythe. Is it another clue that the Grim Reaper is on his way?

Wanda literally throws Geraldine out of town — though she tells Vision that she had to run home — and Geraldine passes through what seems like a magical forcefield. While fans have been assuming WestView is a fake town, this shows us that physically, it’s a very real place. But it’s currently bubbled off with a barrier that Wanda can apparently allow people in and out of. And the song that plays as Geraldine finds herself outside the barrier? “Daydream Believer” by The Monkees. It seems pretty appropriate for a situation that feels like a surreal dream.

When Geraldine lands on the outskirts of real WestView, she’s instantly swarmed by cars and agents all bearing the S.W.O.R.D. logo. Since we know Teyonah Parris is playing the adult Monica Rambeau, it’s safe to assume Geraldine was an alias she used to go undercover in WestView. Combined with the mystery agent watching the show within the show from episode one, we can conclude that Wanda and Vision are being closely observed by S.W.O.R.D. for some reason. But they clearly aren’t the ones in control, since Monica is so easily forced out. What will they do next?

While the opening credits of this episode are a reference to The Brady Bunch, it’s the end credits that give us another clue about the big bad coming our way. Just like the previous episodes, Wanda and Vision are framed in a hexagon as the end credits roll. The symbol is so important because it’s the preferred shape of the creators at Advanced Idea Mechanics, or AIM, who are last seen in Iron Man 3. Remember the beekeeper suits that resemble AIM agents’ clothing? It seems like the evil organization might be making a comeback.

  WandaVision Episode 2 Easter Eggs

The opening credits for this episode aren’t just an adorable homage to Bewitched but a whole bevy of Marvel Easter eggs! The illustration of the moon happens to be surrounded by six stars, and we can’t help but be reminded of the Infinity Gauntlet.

When Vision phases through the floor, there’s a dark shape that looks exactly like the helmet worn by Marvel supervillain Grim Reaper hidden in the space. In the comics, he’s the brother of Wonder Man, whose brainwaves were used in Vision’s creation.

When Wanda goes to the supermarket in the opening, three references hang above the aisle! Bova Milk refers to Bova, the humanoid cow who raised Wanda and Pietro on Mount Wundagore. Auntie A’s kitty litter is a witchy reference to Auntie Agatha or Agatha Harkness, whom we’ve discussed before, and her cat-like familiar named Ebony. And Wonder Mints is most definitely a cheeky reference to Wonder Man, aka Simon Williams, the superhero who Vision’s brainwaves are based on in the comics!

When animated Wanda and Vision settle on their couch, the small figure on their side table is a statue of the Whizzer. Featured in 1982’s Vision and the Scarlet Witch, the Whizzer thought he was Wanda’s father but later discovers he was wrong. Whizzer and his wife were offered the chance to adopt Wanda and Pietro when they were kids on the mythical Mount Wundagore, but they declined.

When Wanda hears a crash outside the house, she heads out to the front, where she finds a colorful toy helicopter in an otherwise black-and-white world. Not only does the red-and-yellow helicopter have the number 57 stamped on it, but it also bears the S.W.O.R.D symbol! The number is likely in reference to Vision’s first appearance in Avengers #57, while the symbol hints to the presence of S.W.O.R.D outside Wanda’s perfect world.

The creepy, cult-like refrain spoken by the fundraiser organizers of it all being “for the children” seems to be a reference to Wanda’s involvement in the comic event The Children’s Crusade. The story follows her son, Billy, who’s trying to gain control over his reality-warping abilities by looking for a missing Wanda.

Well, here’s another blast from the angsty past! The Strücker timepiece is a very obvious callback to Hydra and Baron von Strücker. The watch bears the unmistakable octopus skull symbol of Hydra, and Strücker is the Hydra leader who recruited Pietro and Wanda for the experimentation that gave them powers. He was later killed by Ultron in his prison cell. Does anyone else hear that ticking noise? Remember good ol’ Herb? In the comics, a character named Herbert is also the High Evolutionary who runs Mount Wundagore, the very same safe haven where Bova delivered the Maximoff twins. Time will tell if the super-scientist is the same character, but it can’t be a coincidence.

Wanda and Vision’s magic show has two gems that we’ve noticed! First thing, the literal Mind Stone happens to be the design on the doors of the Cabinet of Mystery that plays a huge part in their act. Second, Wanda and Vision use the names Illusion and Glamour for their actor, which are also the names of the magicians that Vision goes to see in an issue of The Vision and the Scarlet Witch.

Though we all enjoy a good jam, The Beach Boys’ “Help Me, Rhonda” gets interrupted by someone asking, “Who’s doing this to you, Wanda?” And doesn’t that voice sound an awful lot like Randall Park’s Jimmy Woo?

While it may seem weird that Wanda shows her pregnancy in an instant, it’s in line with what goes on in the comics. Wanda uses magic to help her have children, which checks out since her husband is a synthezoid.

Oooh, that mysterious beekeeper! Not only does their presence lead to the reveal that Wanda has some control over the reality they’re in, but it also sets off some alarm bells. Even though the beekeeper’s suit bears the S.W.O.R.D logo on the back, the costume is reminiscent of the yellow costumes worn by A.I.M., a military science organization founded by Baron von Strücker. Could this be a sign that Wanda is being watched by more than one organization? And is this a hint that Hydra is back!? (Obviously, it is.)

  WandaVision Episode 1 Easter Eggs

When Wanda accidentally smashes a plate into Vision’s head, he jokes about his wife and her “flying saucers,” and she comments back about his “indestructible head.” Considering that Vision died after having the Mind Stone ripped from his head, it’s a dark joke to kick off the series.

Vision’s work tie has a visual reference to his comic-book alter ego! In Tom King and Gabriel Hernandez Walta’s Vision, whenever the character dresses as a human, he wears a tie clip that emulates the diamond pattern on his chest.

Vision’s boss, Mr. Hart, is likely named after comic creator Steve Englehart, who created 1985’s The Vision and the Scarlet Witch with Richard Howell, a miniseries that heavily influenced WandaVision. It’s been heavily implied that Kathryn Hahn’s Agnes is the MCU’s Agatha Harkness, a witch who helped train Wanda’s magic back in the ’70s and ’80s.

When Wanda magically saves dinner, the bottle of wine she pours from is Maison du Mépris, which translates to house of contempt or scorn. As fans have pointed out since the trailer drop, this seems like a reference to the House of M comics storyline in which Wanda bends reality into a new world ruled by her family.

The Stark commercial break refers to two things: Avengers icon Tony Stark and his part in Wanda’s dark past. As Wanda and her twin brother, Pietro, explain in Avengers: Age of Ultron, their parents were killed by an explosive Stark Industries device, leaving the twins trapped under rubble. The Maximoffs were trapped by a Stark Industries shell for two days, expecting it to detonate before they get rescued. Even though Wanda eventually fights beside Tony in the future, there’s still some trauma from that experience and her brother’s death. If it weren’t for the Starks, Wanda could have been a completely different person.

The episode closes with a mysterious observer watching the “show” and taking notes on a pad with the logo of S.W.O.R.D. on the cover. For those who don’t know, S.W.O.R.D stands for Sentient World Observation and Response Department and is a subdivision of S.H.I.E.L.D. It’s a counterterrorism and intelligence agency that deals with extraterrestrial threats to world security. Expect to see them around more.

Press: A Thorough Breakdown of All the Marvel Easter Eggs on WandaVision was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

[aspiring-wildfire]

MAG 162

Gertrude and Gerry fucking around is always a good time

God i forgot how much i enjoy Gertrude she’s just fucking great

Their banter!!! I love

They’re so friendly its lovely like they clearly have a Dynamic its awesome

“I’d rather you stayed broadly intact” “im touched, you’re going soft in your old age” give me pyromaniac grandma and her goth grandson or give me death

“I just happened not to mention the network of sinister tunnels that snake beneath the archive, where i keep all my darkest secrets” Gertrude proves, yet again, that she is the funniest character in this fucking podcast

“I like to think I’m not a complete incompetent” “until dementia hits” they’re both so sharp its amazing

Gerry: you dont think they can reach us after death? Gertrude: lmao you still think there’s an “after death”?? We’re electrified meat man we die and we’re gone

Their tax banter is great

Jon rewinding to the dismissal of any hope im-

He’s just baby!! Stop being mean to him Jonny!!!!

TIM

SASHA

oh NO im gonna cry I can already tell

they’re so darling oml “glad you’ve volunteered to help me!” “But-“

TIMOTHY ‘RESPECT WOMEN’ STOKER I ADORE YOU

He’s so mad on sasha’s behalf I’m love

I’m glad everyone has always been pretty unimpressed with Elias/Jonah/etc its what the bastard man deserves

“About traditions, and the values of our esteemed founder, Jimmy Magma” TIM ID DIE FOR U (also him just being ridiculous to make Sasha laugh? 100/10 absolute gem)

Damn Sasha actually was qualified Jon like so should not have been the archivist like i love him he’s my son but boy had no fucking qualifications

“...what if we kill him” okay so Tim has always been Like That

“cut the brakes on his office chair, no one would ever know” god this fucking dork “swap in a poison tea bag, pin it on martin, the perfect crime” LOSER

Tim sounds so distressed about Sasha leaving im emo

“I can’t believe you’d just abandon our intense will-they-wont-they storyline like that” *CUE PTERODACTYL SCREECHING*

God i fucking love them they’re so cute oh my god oh my god

Martin told Tim about his cv Martin told Tim about his cv maRTIN TOLD TIM ABOUT HIS CV MARTIN TOLD TIM ABOUT HIS CV MARTINTOLDTIM—

Also my hacker!sasha feels are just being fed even more and I’m thrilled

“More cardigan than woman” ajdsfklasbfdhal

Sasha knowing exactly how smart Gertrude was and not buying the “senile old lady” thing for a second is a++

“If you get eaten alive by improperly filed statements, me and Martin will avenge you” oh and im crying now thats cool

“I find it highly unlikely that Sasha even existed at all” “no, you took it too far! I’m unforgettable” JONNY SIMS MEET ME IN THE PIT

Jon crying fuck fuck fuck i wasn’t ready i told myself i was ready and i was wrong and now im SAD

Martin come hold your bf he is Not Okay and his coping mechanisms have, somehow, Worsened

No hey fuck you for turning the only good thing around on him

(Jon’s said love so many times though in relation to Martin and im soft for them so that at least is nice)

JON HOLD YOUR BF DONT LET HIM VANISH AGAIN

I am. So angry that they can’t even be happy or safe

okay you know what i can get behind your murder quest Jon go for it babe self care

The way Martin perks up when Jon professes the tiniest bit of hope and determination to go somewhere and do something is so fucking precious

HE ALREADY HAS BAGS PACKED of course he already has bags packed Martin Blackwood is the most competent character left

Jon sounds so fucking fond about Martin’s hyped up planning i would die for them in an instant

“We’ve got this” “Apparently so” TELL ME YOU CANT HEAR JONS HEART EYES THERE

“We can’t fight the world” is really the mood for 2020 huh

“Says you” and THAT is the energy we’re taking forward

[kimberly-spirits13]

Car Rides and Tragedies (Request)

Paring: Tim Drake x reader

Synopsis: It’s the anniversary of your parent’s deaths and you keep it to yourself until everyone turns in for the night and you bask in the silence of the kitchen before a certain Robin comes to cheer you up.

Warnings: Mentioned deaths, grief, talking of homelessness and parental death

Word Count: 955

           The team had all retired for the night and you seemingly did the same. It was a few minutes before you came back out of your bedroom, a blue leather book in hand and an old, very oversized sweatshirt from Princeton. Your hair was loose and messy, you not really having the energy to do anything with it. In your other hand was an old coffee cup that your mother always used in the morning, according to your vivid memory. You were almost tempted to bring out the old tapes that your father had recorded of you guys and your bear from childhood before their deaths. You thought better of it however, in case one of your teammates came out and asked you about it.

           Carefully and silently, you walked to the counter and set the book down before going and making your favorite drink in the cup. The room was silent as you slid into the seat opening to the first page of the book. It was a family album with a few stories inside that your parents had put together when they found that something might happen to them a few months before their sudden deaths.

           The first page read, “To our wonderful child, to whom we will cherish forever, a token of memories and a story of the family. Even in separation, we are with you.”

           You fought the tears welling in your eyes looking down at the pages in front of you. They were filled with happiness and the longing of a time that was no longer with you. The one page that made you almost seriously loose it was a page filled with your more recent memories with them and pictures that you had never known were taken.

           Everything was flooding back into your mind before you heard someone walking in the room. Quickly, you shut the book and wiped the tears from your eyes in an attempt to hide your sorrow.

           “Y/N? Is everything alright?” You heard Robin ask.

           “Yeah, I’m fine.” You answered, “Watcha doin?”

           “I came to get some more coffee so I can continue working this case.” He explained before cocking a brow, “You’re going to attend Princeton or just a fan?”

           “Oh, this?” You looked down at the sweatshirt, “It was my father’s in college, he went and studied in the medical field. Neurosurgeon.”

           “That’s really cool.” Robin frowned for a minute, “You don’t talk about your parents a lot.”

           “Yeah...” Your words got caught in your throat for a second, “Today is the a-anniversary of their crash.”

           “Y/N/N, I’m so sorry.” He came over and gave you a small hug blushing slightly at his impulsive action as you let a few tears slide out, sniffling.

           “I-it’s okay.” You said taking a sip of your drink.

           “My parents died too.” He said taking his coffee mug and sitting down.

           “I’m sorry to hear so many here have such terrible back stories.” You stated almost being a bit humorous.

           “Yeah, I know, right?” He smirked some.

           “I was 14 when it all happened.” You started to explain, “They were hit on a mountain road... didn’t stand a chance.”

           He started at you in disbelief waiting for you to continue.

           “Sorry, you probably don’t want to hear my sap story.” You said tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

           “No, no, if it helps, by all means, continue. I get what’s happening Y/N.” He assured.

           You bit your lip some thinking, “It was 2pm when the call came in. I remember it like it happened just today. They were riding down a highway when a massive black car rammed into them knocking them off of the road and into the valley below. There weren’t really any witnesses but one hiker who saw the entire thing. They said that the car drove off. The police cleared it as a hit and run but I know someone did that on purpose. My parents were very

well-known people in their fields, my mother, a lawyer, and my father, a neurosurgeon of course. They had had someone call a hit on them but never really took it too seriously until a few weeks before they were killed. By then the police were no help.” You signed some thinking again, “I was homeless for a few months. It was harder than losing my parents. I practically begged for food and money, stealing sometimes during the harder days and then eventually I was caught by Wonder Woman who brought me here.”

           “That’s one hell of a story Y/N.” Robin said, “I never would have guessed.”

           “Yeah...” You sighed again feeling the heaviness of the night creep back on your chest slowly.

           “Why don’t we watch a movie?” He asked, “We can in my room as to not wake the team up.”

           “Uh sure.” You consented getting up to clean out your mug and put it into your bedroom once more.

           You sat down on his bed as he pulled out the bigger computer and sat it in the middle and turned on the movie you requested. You guys talked some and learned more about each other, even the happier parts. Before the movie was over however, you had fallen asleep on his shoulder, snugged into his side. Robin blushed furiously seeing as he had developed a small crush when you arrived, now only increasing since you guys had bonded so well. He let you sleep in his room and started back at his work, leaving you next to him in case of any bad dreams that might come during the night. He smiled down at you wishing you a silent good night as you lay fast asleep forgetting the cares of reality.

I really loved this request so much. We’ve had a ton of health scares in my family, some very close to parents and such so it was close. I’m not writing any new requests until my exams are over and those dates are specified in my update post. Other than that, I hope you guys have a great week and are keeping up well!

PS: So, I’ve been thinking of writing this story that I dreamed up one night, quite literally actually. It is about this girl named Seraphina that works and lives in this haunted museum kinda thing where the spirits of people from different eras are trapped in their portraits and once every year during the Summer Solstice, they are let free. One day an evil force comes in and tries to send all of the spirits to hell to become eternal slaves or smt and Sera has to travel around the world collecting artifacts with three spirits, one a Greek woman who was killed for her beliefs and is really spunky and out spoken, the other a woman killed alongside Marie Antoinette who was atheist and argues with the Greek woman a ton, and the other is an old philosopher who sits on the side lines and makes commentary about the fights. The entire thing is kinda Panic Room vibes on top of like vintage old soul stuff. I was just wondering if anyone would read it since it isn’t technically a fandom thing?

[black-streak]

Saturday night's alright for fighting (but Sundays are meant for rest) - In which a date is Had

Part 5

Aaaaand back to your regular scheduled fluff (though there is a tiny touch of angst here that you can miss if you blink too long) I really need to find a way to connect these, but I also refuse to leave mobile... Oh! And I have people to tag now? Sooo, here you go, @poshplumcot & @emjrabbitwolf

~---~

The almost run in with Red Hood the night before had Marinette on edge. She slept for only a few scant hours before waking in the morning hyper aware of her surroundings; skirting corners and slinking about her apartment, ready to bolt should the need arise.

In hindsight, the vigilance only added to her anxiety, lending itself to her in the form of launching bodily away from her phone when it buzzed without her permission.

How dare it! Didn't it know better than to startle her? 

Peering over the edge of a half wall, she glared at the offending object only for it to light up and buzz again! How rude! 

Picking her way over to it, she held it by a corner and tapped the screen to find two messages from "Mon Somnambule". Perking up and opening the chat it read, 'What time should I expect you over?' and then, 'youre still coming, right?'

Scrambling to answer, Mari quickly typed a reassurance and asked if he had a preference in time as her schedule was cleared for the day.

'Somehow free as well. Come by round 2? Or could pick you up. Have a movie marathon.' He texted back.

Checking the time and nodding to herself, she sent an affirmation and let Tim know she'd be fine getting there on her own.

Now for the real question: what does one wear to a lazy Sunday movie marathon that is also technically a first date? 

Walking into her room, she saw the decision had been taken out of her hands, two blurs of kwami rampaging the walk in closet.

"Plagg! Trixx! Get out of there!"

The orange blur stopped, then suddenly popped up into her space, "Guess I won't tell you what we put together then. Tragic really, probably forgot all about it in the back there. Oh well, if the Kit doesn't want help… come on Plagg, let's leave her to it." Trixx drew out, exaggerated movements and mournful sighs as he moved away, Plagg snickering from where he waited back in the closet.

Deadpanning at the little fox, Mari moved towards where they had been, only to light up and gasp upon finding the blood red hooded dress, complete with long sleeves and asymmetrical hemline. Pulling it out, she set it on the bed with black sweater boots and a thin black choker with gold swirls she grabbed off her necklace rack.

"You win this round. It's in his colors too!" 

"Well he did say you were his, yes?" Trixx teased.

"Perhaps you shouldnt wear that after all," Plagg growled.

"Oh hush, I know you approve, whether you admit it or not." Marinette scoffed, leaving to take a quick shower.

….

At 2 o'clock on the dot, Tim lost his filter.

"You're on time."

"Should I not be?"

"You're never on time."

" I can leave and come back in 10 if you prefer?"

"No no, come in. Sorry, just taken by surprise is all." 

It was then that he took a moment to take her in as she went past him, door closing and locking behind her. Only to find her studying him too.

"Gray sweats and a pale blue t-shirt. Any particular reason for that?"

"No clue what you're talking about," he stated flippantly, taking hold of her hand as he sidled past her. "Did you have something in mind you wanted to watch?"

"Hmm… Harry Potter?"

"...which?"

"You did mention a marathon, right?"

"Even I know watching 8 movies in a row isn't healthy. Alfred will sense our bad decisions and hunt us down for even trying."

"No, of course not, but we could watch a few today and watch the rest later?" She hinted, looking around to take in the living space, having never been here before.

"You haven't even survived this date yet and you're asking for another?"

"Is that okay?" She peeked up at him, blushing.

"I mean, yeah, but it's your own fault if you come to regret it."

"I won't," she intoned, turning to look about once more, "should we set up in the living room," she asked before he could respond.

Within a few minutes, they were ready, snacks and drinks laid before them with the first movie queued up, speakers blaring the opening lines of Hedwig's theme, nostalgic notes swirling around them and yet they sat perfectly still, a foot apart.

She broke the silence first, "Why does this feel so much different?"

"...How do you mean?"

"We've fallen asleep together in your bed before and yet here we are, a foot apart and avoiding eye contact on the premise of watching a movie we've both probably seen at least a dozen times."

"Different context. Our naps are something started with no expectations or labels. Now it's been labeled a date, that freedom is lost."

"... That's stupid."

"Completely unreasonable."

"Idiotic, flawed logic."

"Couldn't agree more."

 They sat in silence another few minutes.

"We still haven't done anything about it."

"I know."

"Hnph."

Swallowing down his anxious energy, Tim turnt and took her hand that lay furthest from him, guiding it over and past his shoulder, resulting in her torso twisting and stretching out to lay across his. Only he completely miscalculated in his distracted state and ended up bumping heads with her, which in turn made her jump back, arm still at his shoulder, yanking him forward. They fell completely off balance and landed on the opposite side of the couch, him lying atop her small frame.

Freezing in place, wide eyed, Tim was unsure how to recover when a small giggle came from above. Which then turned into a full bellied laugh. Cautiously, he lifted himself up off her only to watch her eyes spring tears of mirth as she tried to catch her breath.

"I guess that's one way to break the tension!"

Letting out a whoosh of air, he slumped back down on her in relief.

"Hey! Don't crush me!" She gasped, squirming under him.

"I know for a fact you can handle more weight than this."

"You know nothing!"

"I know many things."

Shifting, he landed beside her, turning towards the movie and manipulating Mari around till her back pressed into his chest, "Better?"

"Much," she murmured, tilting back to brush a kiss across his jaw before returning to watching the movie.

…

"How does this whole mother's love thing work? By blood? That makes no sense! Petunia obviously doesn't love him, so shouldn't that cancel it out somehow? I think Rowling was off her rocker when she decided this."

"Or it was just an excuse to keep him in his state of being the abused tragic character."

"What if that whole thing was a lie? Wasn't Dumbledore grooming him for suicide or something? Probably wanted to keep him under such horrible circumstances to reaffirm his love for Hogwarts and desire to return even after his life was threatened all those times."

"And this is the gay representation she wants to give us? Sounds homophobic to me. Let Seamus and Dean love each other, damnit!"

"And Ginny and Luna!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, why not?" 

"... You're right, let them date too! And make Harry Bi, you pansy!" 

…

They ended up taking a break between the first and second movie, taking the time to order delivery, get new drinks, use the bathroom, etc., before returning to the couch, Tim spooning Marinette once again.

"Are you okay?" He asked, softening his tone.

"Yeah, why?"

"You slipped up last night. I could see your eyes in the last few moments there."

"Is that why you're wearing blue and gray?" She teased, deflecting.

He blushed, but remained undeterred, "Lutine."

"... I didn't slip up."

"You never let yourself be seen. What changed?"

"You."

"..."

"I want you to know me. Especially if we're going to be continuing this. I've tried dating with a secret identity. It never works out. I know you on both sides, observed you without letting you return the favor. I want to change that." 

She laced their fingers, lifting to press a kiss to his wrist, eyes closed.

He stayed quiet, observing her now, vulnerable and fragile, waiting upon his judgement.

"Were you planning to reveal yourself?"

A small nod.

"But then Jason showed up?"

Another nod.

"And you still won't tell him? He's going to be fine with it, you know."

"Soon. It didn't feel right to come out of hiding to you both at the same time like that."

They fell silent, taking everything in, only to jump at the doorbell. Rushing up, Marinette went to answer it, returning and pulling out boxes of Chinese before setting up the second movie. As it started, they let it drop for now, touching from shoulder to hip where her leg deviated to wrap around his, reassuring each other that they were okay.

…

"Can we just talk about Lockhart though? He is such a little manipulative jerk! He wanted to leave them in the chamber! A bunch of 11 and 12 year olds! Who does that?!" 

"Literally any DADA professor Dumbly door decides to hire, apparently. And what's with the reliance of these adults on children to save their skins? Is that what boarding school is all about? Letting children raise themselves?"

"I'm so sick of these God awful adults pushing all of their responsibilities and mistakes on to literal kids to fix and take care of. He can barely take care of himself and you want him to save everyone? Just like that? With no help or guidance, just, 'here you go kid, lack of support for breakfast, negligence of supposedly trusted adults for lunch, an emotional breakdown for dinner, and a punctured lung for dessert!"

"... You want to talk about it?"

"Not really…"

"Okay."

…

By the end of the second movie, the sky had darkened considerably, having taken quite a while to start up any of them, it was now past eight, still early for them, but late enough to bring a different atmosphere, hushed and intimate between them.

"You look good in red."

"Oh?"

"Mm," Tim hummed, nudging the choker round her neck with his nose, "I like this little detail here too."

Goosebumps raising where skin met, she twisted to face him, lips ghosting over to his ear.

"It reminded me of you."

Faster than she could react, she felt a hand holding her face in place as lips descended upon her own, insistent and sure footed. 

Mari desperately wanted to return the passion, to push into him and give as good as she got, but all she could do was melt in his embrace, unreasonably warm at how assertive it felt.

Pulling back for air, he watched her gasp, enjoying the flush to her skin and glaze to her eyes.

"Did you still want to watch the third movie?"

"... Yeah. Couch is getting a bit uncomfortable though."

"We could relocate."

"Please?"

… 

At some point after having borrowed a spare toothbrush, washed her face, settled into Tim's bed- which was somehow different to being in the one at the manor- and starting the last movie, they had stopped paying attention and started focusing on each other. Passionate kisses turned into making out turned into soft brushes of lips over skin and finally settled into curling up around each other to sleep.

Tomorrow they would return to their hectic lives of running a company and finishing commissions for high profile clientele along with running around at night protecting a city that refused to protect itself, but for now, it was just them. Just this one peaceful night, wrapped in each other's arms.

[honey-girlie]

every kind of way ch. 2

chapter: 2/3

word count: ~3k

a/n: i actually don’t like this chapter all that much lol, but here is. i’m still finishing up the last chapter, so i’ll be posting it in a few days. thank you again to anyone who’s reading!!

[link to chapter 1]

[link to ao3]

x x x

Predictably, Levi was upset with the news. 

He fought her at every turn and glowered when he heard Jake’s name, muttering something about how he could never trust a guy that quiet. And even if Eris had explicitly told him — multiple times, no less — that they were broken up, Levi had also made a Hail Mary attempt at turning her head. It was a miracle she hadn’t smacked him for that one. Instead, she very coolly asserted her feelings for Jake. There was no head-turning for her, especially not for Levi.

He had stormed off shortly after that, but not before he made sure to mention that she and Jake would never work as a couple outside the villa. As Eris prepared to head for the firepit, Cherry also had come up to her and said the exact same thing.

Eris rolled her eyes hard enough to dizzy herself. Levi’s and Cherry’s opinions didn’t matter. No one’s did.

She repeated the mantra to herself during the recoupling and ignored everyone’s incredulous expressions when Jake happily called her name. He did the same, spending most of the recoupling offering her giddy smiles and comforting touches. Though he tensed up during Levi’s turn, Jake kept calm and accepted Levi’s sneers with a defiant stare. 

They were finally together, and after all the drama they’ve been through on the island, there was little anyone could do or say to stop them. 

Eris couldn’t have been more relieved by the end of the recoupling. She and Jake wandered to the daybeds while the others scattered elsewhere, their hands entwined. He shot her a look of concern and asked how she was holding up, and she answered honestly. 

Perfect, she said, beaming at him. 

He grinned right back and picked her up in a crushing embrace, lifting her a few inches. Eris wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, but their moment was cut short at the sound of footsteps nearing them. Jake lowered her to the ground as Tim and Jen walked over, smiling knowingly at them. 

“You two look well cozy,” Tim teased. “Did the recoupling go the way you wanted, then?”

Eris and Jake glanced at each other. The second their eyes met, they grinned again. Jen squealed in delight. 

“You guys are so adorable!” she exclaimed. “I knew without a doubt Jake would pick you.”

Eris’ heart clenched. “Our relationship is still new, but we’re solid. I didn’t doubt him either.”

Jake reached for her hand and planted a kiss on her knuckles, his eyes bright and happy. “I love that you trusted me,” he murmured. “I’d have picked you every single time, even if it cost me a friendship.”

She tucked her lips in to keep from smiling so wide. 

Tim snorted. “Mate, you are such a melt!”

Jake merely shrugged. His gaze remained locked Eris. “I’m more romantic than people think.”

Whatever Jen was about to say was interrupted at the sound of her phone beeping. The four of them stared at it for a moment before Jen picked it up, her face wary. She called the Islanders to gather around, and they all scurried over to the daybeds. Levi scowled at her when she caught his gaze, but she gave him no reaction.

Once everyone was gathered, Jen cleared her throat and read the text. 

Islanders, you are now in your final days on Love Island. Tonight, the public will vote for their favorite couple. The couples with the fewest votes risk being dumped from the Island tomorrow night. The couples that remain will enter the final, and have a chance to win the £50,00 prize.

With raised eyebrows, Eris glanced up to see several shocked faces. Four people would be dumped tomorrow, and with her and Jake being in such a late couple, she wouldn’t be surprised if they received less votes. 

After a moment’s thought, she found that she wasn’t too troubled. She came to the show to find a partner she could have a future with, regardless of whether or not she won. After today’s events, she could safely say that Jake was that person for her, and she for him. Money was always nice, but if she and Jake were to leave the Island early, she wouldn’t shed any tears over it. Part of her was excited to be back home anyway. 

Beside Eris, Jake squeezed her hand. She turned to him and saw a relaxed smile on his face, and she knew he shared her thoughts. Eris smiled back. 

A few of the Islanders made small comments about tomorrow’s dumping, but other than that, everyone was quiet, the reminder of the competition looming over their heads. They all went their separate ways to wind down for the night and prepare for bed. 

Jake went off to chat with the boys while Eris joined the other girls in the dressing room to remove their makeup. Cherry continued throwing sour looks her way, but Eris refused to spare her single glance. She’d had too long of a day to have the energy to rehash the same argument with the younger girl, and besides, Eris was still over the moon about her and Jake being an official couple. Like Levi, Cherry’s anger didn’t warrant any real reaction from her. 

Bless Jen for easing the tension by starting up a quiet conversation with Eris. 

“I can’t believe our summer’s nearly over,” Jen murmured. 

Eris smiled gratefully and responded, “I think it’s the right time.”

“You think so?”

Eris shrugged. “We all tried our best, and some of us have really found the right person.”

Cherry scoffed and rolled her eyes before shooting up from her seat. Jen and Eris watched warily as Cherry stalked out of the room without a single word, her hands clenched into fists. 

Jen pursed her lips. “Don’t worry about her, babes. Give her time. She’ll come around.”

“Can’t say I particularly care,” Eris murmured. “It wasn’t like we were ever on friendly terms, and I doubt we ever will be.” She lifted her chin. “But I don’t regret what I did.”

Jen patted her hand. “And you shouldn’t. We all need to put ourselves first.” She paused for a moment, contemplating. “I don’t think I was doing that when I first came into the villa. I tried too hard to keep Levi coupled up with me. I just think I had to find myself first.” A smile spread across her face. “And then I found Tim. I think I achieved everything I wanted. I’m really proud of my journey in the villa. I think I’m living my best life.”

Eris scooted over to squeeze Jen on the shoulder. She had come a long way from the girl Eris had originally met the first day in the villa. Jen and Tim had since become some of her closest confidants, especially in the last several days. As ecstatic as Eris was about the way things turned out for herself, she was just as pleased for her friends. 

“I’m happy for you, Jen. Really.”

“Babes, thank you!” Jen grinned and lightly elbowed Eris. “I know you must be feeling good about your experience too. In fact...” She leaned in as she glanced around, whispered conspiratorially. “I kinda know something I’m not supposed to tell you.”

Intrigued, Eris quirked a brow. “What? What do you know?”

The glint in Jen’s eyes was unmistakable. “Where do you think Jake is right now?”

As if on cue, Jake peeked his head in the dressing room, scanning around for Eris. When he spotted her, he grinned. “Hey, you. Can I borrow you for a chat? Once you’re finished, of course.”

Eris smiled back. She hoped the butterflies in her stomach just from seeing him would never go away. “Of course.”

“Great. Give me a couple of minutes, then come meet me on the roof terrace,” he said before ducking back out. 

She stared after him for a second, even after the door had closed, then she turned back to Jen. Jen’s expression was full of barely contained excitement. 

Eris playfully narrowed her eyes. “Should I be expecting something big?”

With an innocent shrug, Jen replied, “I really don’t know, hun, but I think Jake has something he wanted to tell you. Maybe you should find out!”

Eris bit her lip. She wished she hadn’t taken off all her makeup. Clearly, whatever Jake wanted to say to her was important. 

She forced herself not to run straight to the terrace and instead idly cleaned up her little station. It couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds before she gave up, growing restless. Jen offered a gleeful smile as Eris left the dressing room and hurried to the roof terrace. 

With an eager spring in her step, she threw open the door. Eris gasped and froze at the sight that greeted her. 

The terrace glowed with soft lights from several small candles and the string lights hanging on the walls. There were so many candles that it diffused the normally chilly rooftop with enough warmth to tingle her skin. And petals, rose petals littered around the place, scattered all over from the floor to the benches. A bottle of wine and two glasses were propped up on the table, and standing right in the middle of everything was Jake. He had spun around at her abrupt entrance, but when he spotted her, he beamed. 

It was the most romantic gesture anyone’s ever done for her. 

Eris stood at the doorway, mouth agape. 

“Are you kidding?” she exhaled. 

Jake looked around at his work. “Well, it wasn’t all me. I got Jen and Tim to help. But... yeah.” A flash of uncertainty crossed his face. “Is it... okay? Do you like it?”

She barked out a laugh and hurried over to him, throwing her arms around his neck. Relaxing, Jake sighed and engulfed her in his embrace. 

“It’s beautiful,” Eris whispered. “Thank you. I don’t even know what this is for.”

He pulled back and met her eyes. “This has all happened pretty fast for us. I just wanted to show you that this, that you really mean something to me.” Jake cupped her face in his big, warm hands, and she melted into him. “We’ve only officially been together since this afternoon, but this is something I’ve wanted for a long time,” he murmured. “It’s not a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

“It’s not for me either,” Eris returned. “It’s always been you, remember?”

Jake released a contented sigh and rubbed his thumbs over her cheekbones, then he let go to pull her towards the bench. “Sit with me.”

He took her hand as they sat side by side, their thighs flush with one another, and once they were settled, he turned to her. Eris had no idea what else he had planned for them tonight, but she couldn’t contain the grin spreading across her face. His own lips curled into a smile. 

“I love that you’re so chill,” he chuckled. “It makes me feel calmer.” He nodded his chin to the wine on the table. She noticed that one of the glasses was nearly empty. “I would’ve waited to open it with you, but I needed it to calm my nerves.”

Nerves? Jen did mention that Jake had something he wanted to tell her. At the reminder, Eris straightened and twisted her torso to face him directly. 

“What do you mean?” she asked. 

Jake took a deep breath before speaking. “I’m a real romantic at heart. I’m sure you know that by now.”

She cast a wry glance around the decorated terrace. “I think I’m starting to get an idea, yeah.”

His lips quirked. “I wrote you something to let you know how serious I am about us as a couple.”

Eris’ breath hitched, but when she remembered the poem he’d written for Talia, she held back a laugh. Something told her he hasn’t improved much as a poet since then. 

Her theory was proven right when Jake recited, “Roses are red, violets are blue, you took a chance on me, and I’m committed to you.”

She broke out in a wide grin, the same kind a proud mother would give a child for some macaroni art. For someone so good with words, he wasn’t the most eloquent poet. Still, Jake and his elementary rhymes were so adorable, it hurt. 

Eris leaned in to press a kiss on his cheek, and with bright eyes, he shot her a cheerful look, evidently pleased with himself. The man was actually a puppy dog. 

“That was well corny,” she uttered, “and I absolutely loved every bit of it.”

Jake’s laugh was full-on, loud and free, and she couldn’t get enough of it. She wanted to hear it every chance she got, every day they had together. 

“Always the honest one,” he said through his laughter. “Either way, I’m glad you liked it. But maybe I should stick to cooking, yeah?”

Eris adamantly shook her head. “Corny or not, no one’s ever written me poetry before. You’re just... you’re the sweetest man, Jake. We’ve been together less than a day, and you put in the effort to write me things and set up this roof terrace for me. I don’t —” She let out a helpless laugh and took one of his hands in her lap. “I don’t know what to say. You make me really happy.”

She avoided his gaze as her cheeks burned at her rambling, but she refused to take back her words. Things between her and Jake had moved fast, but it felt right, more right than it had been with anyone else both in and out of the villa. 

Jake was silent for a drawn-out moment, and her cheeks grew redder. When he sucked in a breath, Eris finally glanced up. She was taken aback at the intensity that had formed in his gaze. 

His next words came out in a rushed exhale. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

Eris’ eyes bulged as she gaped. Girlfriend? She had no idea the depth of his feelings — let alone the existence of them — until a few hours ago, and now he was asking her to take another big step in their very new relationship. She at least understood why he had been so nervous earlier. 

At her reaction, Jake pushed on. “I know it’s a bit soon, but you make me happy too. Like, stupid happy. I’ve never felt the way I do about you with anyone else.” He paused, his intense stare growing so tender, her breath caught in her throat. “I’m falling for you, Eris,” he whispered. “I don’t even care about winning or being in the final. I just want to be with you —”

“Yes,” she blurted.

As if she even needed convincing in the first place. Eris was ready to commit to him the same way he admitted he was to her. She’s been ready for some time now. 

He paused, blinking, and then his face split into an enormous, radiant smile that wrinkled his eyes. Her heart burst at the sight as she beamed back. Taking her face in his hands, Jake brought their lips together in a passionate kiss. Despite its fervency, there was a gentleness to it too, and Eris knew they’d have hundreds, thousands of kisses just like it. 

Her boyfriend. She rather liked the sound of that. 

When they pulled apart, he pressed a final kiss to her forehead. Her skin tingled where his lips lay as he spoke. 

“I can’t believe you said yes,” he exhaled. 

Eris snickered. “Did you really think I’d say no?”

“Maybe. Yes. I don’t know.” Jake reared back to look at her with a relieved smile. “I wasn’t sure what would happen. Besides, I’ve told you how overconfidence is a killer. I couldn’t be too certain.”

“Well, you’re officially stuck with me now. No takebacks.”

Jake smoothed his thumbs over her cheekbones. “Good,” he murmured.

They stayed on the terrace for a little while longer, talking idly and drinking a bit more. Eris would have loved to spend the rest of the night there with him, but exhaustion started creeping on her. Once they finished off their glasses of wine, they decided to call it a night, leaving the terrace hand-in-hand. 

Despite how tired she was, she was brimming with elation. For the past few days, Eris was sure she had screwed over her chance on the show to find a partner. Now, she was leaving the island with the sweetest, most adoring and thoughtful man, a man who also happened to be her boyfriend. Funny how different her day turned out when it started on such an awful note, but maybe she should’ve expected it, being on Love Island and all. 

By the time Eris and Jake returned to the darkened bedroom, the rest of the Islanders were tucked into bed, all apart from Jen. She was hanging around by the entrance, seemingly waiting for them, and when they finally showed up, Jen squealed. She quietly cheered and congratulated them with a hug. Jake whispered an additional thanks for helping him set up the terrace, and Jen winked before whisking away. 

Eris and Jake changed and got ready for bed, then they climbed under the duvet together, cuddling close. His arms tightened around her, and in seconds, they both began to drift off. Before succumbing to a peaceful sleep, Eris let one last smile grace her lips as she remembered how unspeakably good it felt to be his again.