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thevoicefromanotherworld · 1 month ago

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PANEM ET CIRCENSES (II)

So, this is the second part of my story inspired on Gladiator.

I hope you like it!

The next morning, a knock on the gate made her wake up suddenly. Her heart beat wildly as she tried to find the source of the sound. She saw that the Spaniard had quickly gotten up from her side to stand next to the door.

The guards gave several more knocks with their swords on the gate, causing a deafening sound, the same one that had woken her up.

"Wake up, come on!" ordered one of the guards.

"The stands are full," said another with a condescending smile. "Now, go put on a good show." He gestured with his head for them to leave, but no one made a move to do so. "Move!" he shouted.

Fear froze Diana's body. She couldn't get up, her legs wouldn't respond. She looked at the gladiators who were already leaving the place, and then at the Spaniard, who also looked at her attentively. She realized she was terrified. She had seen this happen to trained and skilled warriors: men who were ready to fight at the word of attack, who would suddenly throw down their weapons and run off in the direction of battle.

Fear was an element that, if not properly controlled, could end up destroying you.

He walked over to her and held out his hand. Diana watched him for a moment and accepted it.

He pulled her to her feet before letting go, her legs barely supporting her body weight, but she still forced herself to follow the column of slaves, who were currently walking down a passage made of earth and rocks.

Diana squinted as she saw the light of the sun filtering through a cavity in the rock that served as an entrance. The murmur of the people reverberated in her ears, making her want to vomit.

They were led into a room next to the cavity, where a sword and shield had been prepared for each of them. She swallowed hard, trying not to vomit until the first morsel. Her stomach was empty, so it would not be a pleasant experience.

“Arm yourselves properly,” said the soldier who had brought them there, “it will be the only protection you will have out there,” he added sarcastically.

The Spaniard quickly grabbed a sword and shield, while she stood beside him to do the same. A man approached to give him a beautiful suit of armor, with two horses embroidered on the chest.

Diana assumed that it had been taken from him when he was made a slave. But even if it had been, they were all Romans, and as such they should die with honor.

She also chose a helmet with the top decorated with what looked like spikes.

Diana slipped her arm behind the rope of the shield, and gripped the sword in her right hand.

She had never struck anyone with a saber. She had never actually been near a weapon. Whenever there was a disturbance in the city, she put as much distance between herself and the problem as possible.

She clenched her fist around the hilt tightly, praying to the gods to give her strength and allow her to see the sunrise the next day. An arm came into her field of vision.

She looked up to connect with the man's blue eyes, who gently took the sword she was holding from her. He put another one in its place.

"That one was too heavy," he explained, pointing to the one she had picked up first. "You'll be better off with this one."

"Thank you," she nodded gratefully, and he returned the gesture kindly. "First day of the games," she said to try to ease the tension she was feeling. "What do you think the emperor has prepared?"

-Anything deadly enough to kill a few of us here- she blurted out, making his nerves worse- the emperor will prolong this as long as possible- she explained- if he kills too many of us on the first day, the audience will get bored and won't come back

-It makes sense- she whispered, looking at the cavity through which the sky could be seen, she turned to him, lowering her head- hey, I… I don't want to be a burden to you- she said- if you have the chance to save your life, save yourself- she argued- I couldn't stand knowing that you died protecting me

-We're all going to die someday- she said, returning his gaze- but not today- she passed the sword from one hand to the other, getting used to its weight- don't separate from me, and everything will be fine

-Why are you so kind to me? –he questioned- you don't really know me

-You fed me when I was hungry- she murmured- you saved my life- she looked at him firmly- let me save yours

Diana nodded firmly. At that moment, the guard made them line up in A1 to enter the arena. Two praetorians flanked the door, she assumed it was in case one of them decided to flee at the last moment.

She walked heavily forward until she found herself in the center of the arena with the others. She looked up to see the citizens of Rome, gathered in the stands of the Colosseum, dressed in the most exquisite clothes and drinking v

The crowd was filled with gold chalices, ready to watch as the poorest of the pyramid fought their soldiers to the death.

The scene was grotesque, to say the least. Diana forced herself not to look at them too much. She pushed her hair out of her face, sweat began to run down her neck and into her tunic.

It was stiflingly hot.

Of course, the public didn't notice this, due to the large cloth that partially covered the roof of the coliseum to protect them from the sun.

"Poor things," Diana thought, "don't let their skin melt."

The trumpets began to sound, a sign that something important was going to happen. The crowd burst into cheers as they looked at the emperor's tribune. The gladiators, including the Spaniard at his side, fixed their gaze on that spot. He saw a blonde woman, dressed in a beautiful red tunic, enter with her small son by the hand.

In front of them, he was.

The emperor walked to where the ornate chair where he was to sit was, but not before greeting the crowd with a wave of his hand, accompanying the gesture with a nod.

Then he raised his right hand with the palm facing up, asking for silence. The coliseum fell into complete silence. It was then that Commodus' gaze focused on them, the gladiators, the main pieces of his show.

Diana knew what was coming next. She had attended naval battles a couple of times, so she knew what she had to do.

All in unison, they raised their hands towards him before saying in a loud and clear voice:

-Hail Caesar! Those who are going to die salute you

The emperor nodded, while the announcer of the show, who was none other than one of the speakers of the Senate began to speak.

-Citizens of Rome! -he began- today we will offer a historical recreation of the fall of the powerful Carthage - the public burst into excited applause. The man raised his hand and the noise ceased, so he continued speaking- in the arid plains of Zama, waiting in the shadows to assault the city, the army of Hannibal the Barbarian - he explained - all of them were strong, brave and cunning men from all the barbarian nations with a single objective: to conquer without mercy all the cities that were in their path - he made a gesture with his hand towards the tribune - the emperor is proud to present to you: The barbarian horde!

A metallic screech resounded in front of them. Diana watched with her heart in her mouth as little by little the doors opened, to give way to what they would have to survive that afternoon. The Spaniard felt her fear by the way she held the sword in her hand.

She was squeezing the hilt so much that her knuckles were white.

-Listen to me - he said with his gaze focused on the doors - whatever comes out of those doors we have a better chance of surviving if we work together. Do you understand? - he asked, she nodded with her eyes on the same place as him - okay - he concluded - alea iacta est

"The die is cast"

-I present to you the legionaries of Scipio Africanus!

The people cheered excitedly because the show was finally starting. Diana only wanted to run away and not look back.

As if he had heard her thoughts, he put his hand on her shoulder, keeping her in place.

It was then that four chariots entered, in each of them there were a pair of men armed to the teeth. The Spaniard could see that the last two carried bows and arrows, weapons that the first ones did not have.

They began to surround them, the wheels of the chariots causing the sand to rise and enter their eyes, making it difficult for them to see. Diana looked quickly at all of them, while placing the shield in front of her chest in a protective manner.

The Spaniard's blue gaze fell on hers, almost as if he were telling her that they were going to be fine, that they would survive this.

She did not have time to think about anything else, because the men in the two rear chariots loaded their arrows and shot at them.

He pressed his shield against hers, making a double barrier. The rest stuck to them, also raising their shields, which made them, in a few seconds, create an almost impenetrable barrier.

The Spaniard saw clearly what the weak points of the hasty maneuver were.

A shield tilted to the right and a pair of shoulders with weak pulses, would be their downfall. An arrow slipped into the gap between two shields, causing one of them to fall to the ground, dead. He knew the formation wouldn't last long, but he didn't think it would last that long.

"We have to regroup," he said, strategically positioning himself to cover the gap left by the previous man. "We have to hold on like this for as long as we can," he explained. "Let them get tired, then we'll attack."

"It sounds like a good plan," Diana said, "but how will we hold on for so long?"

The sun is at its peak now –he murmured- if the men don't tire, the horses will –he explained- they will start to faint due to thirst and exhaustion –he said- that will be our moment

They continued to protect themselves with the shields, a couple more arrows stuck in two other men, making wounds that were easy to heal. The arrows stopped hitting the shields, their whistling could no longer be heard in the air. It was then that little by little, they began to destroy the wall of shields.

Only two chariots remained in the arena with their respective horses, which meant that…

A clash of swords brought her out of her thoughts, when she saw one of the men riding one of the remaining chariots attacking another of his men.

She defended herself as best she could, but in the end the soldier swung a saber sideways, separating her head from her body. Diana forced herself to look ahead.

The Spaniard was now fighting another man. Her movements were fast and well executed. Block, strike, dodge. She memorized that pattern in her mind, just as another one came straight at her.

He raised his sword, but she blocked it with her shield, feinting to the right. The man watched him with hatred reflected in his dark eyes. He approached again with the intention of dealing another blow, but she dodged it by taking a couple of steps back.

The man seemed to be getting tired of her, so he raised his sword above his head with the intention of slicing off her head, but she was faster, launching a cross-cut at his belly, which caused her attacker to end up cut in half.

Blood splashed on her face, making her dizzy from the impact of what she had just done.

She had killed a man.

“If she hadn't, he would have killed you,” she thought a second later. He nodded firmly and turned to look at the others.

The Spaniard was surrounded by two more corpses. At that moment he gave a final blow with his sword to the second one. The body made a heavy sound as it fell to the ground. He looked up at it, checking that it was still alive.

The last of the chariot drivers tried to escape the arena so as not to suffer the same fate as his companions, but one of the gladiators threw an axe at him that hit the back of his head, piercing his skull instantly. He fell to the ground, dead.

The crowd burst into cheers when they saw that most of them were still alive. The emperor whispered something in the ear of the announcer, who turned pale at his words.

The Gods would know what he had said. Whatever it was, it was certainly nothing good.

-I told you we would survive - he said at her side - the Gods are on our side

-This has been the first day - Diana murmured - I don't think it's wise to declare victory so soon

He tilted his head to look at her, the sparkle in his blue eyes clearly visible through the slit in his helmet.

-I didn't take you for someone so pessimistic

-It's not being pessimistic, I'm stating the truth - he said -

He nodded as he stared at the emperor's tribune. The trumpets began to sound again, this time a different melody than the one at the beginning, which could only mean one thing: Caesar himself was going to enter the arena

The praetorian guards were quick to surround them, dressed in their shiny black armor with gold details. They kept their shields to one side, but always on the defensive, and their pikes in their hands.

-Drop your weapons - ordered one of them when they reached the height -

None of them did. They feared it was some kind of test. But when they saw the emperor entering the arena, they knew it was not, so they hurried to comply with the guard's orders, while kneeling down.

-Get up - he said when he was in front of them - I was looking forward to meeting you - he confessed, looking at him intently - you are the one they call the Spaniard, aren't you?

-That's right, sir - he answered in a cautious tone -

The emperor looked at him with curiosity. Behind him, a little further away, Diana observed the scene with feigned calm. If the emperor had come down from the tribune to speak to him in person, he did not believe it was only to congratulate him for still being alive.

-You have been without a doubt the best fighter I have seen in a long time - he praised - so why don't you take off your helmet and reveal your face as well as your name?

-My name is Gladiator - he answered coldly-

He turned around slowly to return to the others, before hearing the emperor's voice behind him again.

-How dare you turn your back on me? Slave! - he spat-

The Spaniard's gaze connected with Diana's, who watched him with desperation and nerves reflected in her eyes. Her blue eyes narrowed slightly, letting him know that everything was going to be fine. He turned around slowly again, without making a move to take off his helmet.

-Forgive my boldness, my lord - he said - It won't happen again

-I hope so- the one in black armor muttered- this time I will let you pass, but challenge me again and I will stick your head on a pike- he threatened, the latter nodded-

The emperor gave him one last look, before turning to leave the way he had come, but before doing so, he looked at him again and gestured to one of his praetorians to come closer.

-Have the most exquisite delicacies from our kitchens brought to that man- he said with his gaze fixed on him- just for tonight- he looked away at Diana, putting him irremediably on alert- and for all the Gods, may my maids tidy up that poor creature- he sketched an amused little smile- no woman should be so unkempt- he explained looking again at the Hispano- Don't you agree, Gladiator?

-Yes sir - she answered obediently, just as the Emperor liked it-

-Alright then - she clapped her hands theatrically - rest tonight, you will need it

She left the arena and the guards took them back to their place behind the bars. On the way back, the Spaniard thought that now the Caesar's gaze was not only on him, but also on her.

Somehow in those few minutes on the arena, the Emperor had undoubtedly seen some kind of rapprochement between them, so, if he wanted, they could hurt her to get her to confess her identity.

-Are you okay? - she asked at his side, bringing him out of his thoughts-

-Yes - he nodded with a friendly smile - How are you?

-Alive - she replied, which made him laugh-

-I told you we would see a new day dawn, but you didn't believe me

-I'm starting to do it, don't screw it up - she replied, and his smile grew wider-

The guards closed the door of the place once they were inside again, and sat in the same place they were before they were taken to the arena. They stayed silent for a few moments, thinking about everything that had happened, until she broke it with a question, as the Spaniard was beginning to see, it was common for her.

-Why didn't you tell the emperor who you were?

He knew she was going to ask him that at some point, so he thought carefully about his answer when he said:

-It's safer for him not to know - he said, she frowned-

-Are you someone important or something? –she asked, eager to know the truth-

-Something like that –she admitted, lowering her voice so that only she could hear- you must not tell this to anyone

-I give you my word –she promised, putting her hand over her heart- your secret is safe with me, Spaniard

The door opened again and two praetorians entered with several trays of food, and a couple of padded cushions. They placed them delicately next to the door.

-From the emperor –said the man before leaving as quickly as he had come-

Diana couldn't help but get up quickly to grab the trays. She was hungry after all day without eating anything, so she practically pounced on the food, but when she was about to put a chicken thigh in her mouth, he grabbed her by the arm, stopping her.

-Wait –he asked, making her lower her arm-

Seeing the expression on his face, she realized the reason for his action.

-I don't think the emperor wants to poison his favorite fighter - she said, reaching out for the food again - I'd say we're safe

He grabbed her arm again, forcing her to let go of the thigh.

-Not me - he whispered - but maybe you

-Why would I want to do something like that? - she asked - I'm not important to him

-But you are to me - she confessed - and he knows it - she muttered under her breath - somehow, he knows it

-So I'm important to you, huh? - she questioned, looking at him with amusement - Do you want to explain to me why?

-No - she answered, taking a bite of the meat, grinding it between her teeth and then swallowing it -

They both waited a few seconds, and after checking that it wasn't poisoned, she gestured towards the rest of the bird.

-Eat, you need it -he nodded- you won't be able to wield a sword if you're skinny

-Very funny, Gladiator - Diana murmured as she devoured a chicken wing- very funny

#gladiator movie #maximus decimus meridius #my story #fanfic

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ao3feed-superbat · 6 months ago

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Why You Shouldn't Mess With Magic Doors

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/e9OhQc0 by GothamiteEditor Peter should really learn not to let his curiosity or desire to prove he's worthy to be Spider-Man make decisions for him. Or. Peter Parker ends up in the Watch Tower, humiliates himself in front of a dude named Superman (no hyphen) and then is stranded with no way home. All because he couldn't not touch a magic door. Words: 3575, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, DCU, DCU (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Shazam! | Captain Marvel (Comics), Shazam! (Movies - Sandberg), The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M, Other Characters: Peter Parker, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Jason Todd, Billy Batson, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Duke Thomas, Stephen Strange, Tony Stark, Diana (Wonder Woman), Barry Allen, John Constantine, Alfred Pennyworth, Aunt May Parker (Marvel) Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Clark Kent & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Peter Parker, Billy Batson & Justice League, Billy Batson & Peter Parker, Batfamily Members & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Jason Todd, Justice League & Members of the Team (Young Justice), Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Peter Parker & Stephen Strange, Billy Batson & Shazamily Members Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, References to Depression, Multiverse, Peter Parker meets the Justice League, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, BAMF Peter Parker, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Precious Peter Parker, Tim Drake & Peter Parker Friendship, Peter Parker Whump, Protective Clark Kent, Established Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Billy Batson is Captain Marvel | Shazam, Homeless Billy Batson, Homeless Peter Parker, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Author Is Sleep Deprived, no beta we die like tony stark, More tags to be added, Warnings May Change, Vomiting, Blood and Injury, Graphic Description of Corpses, Spoilers, magic doors read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/e9OhQc0

#ao3feed #superbat #world's finest #Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent

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mrs-barnes-rogers-writes · 2 years ago

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A Second Chance Is A Better Chance - Christmas As A Roamer - The Second Christmas

Pairing: Alpha Steve Rogers x Omega Witch Reader, eventual ? x Omega Witch Reader and Alpha Steve Rogers X Omega Witch Reader

Summary: Rejected by your true mate at 21, you’ve given up on the Fates and the Moon Goddesses giving you a second chance. Being a Roamer for the last 9 years, you’re an Omega hardened by the world. You’re safe on your own because of your witchcraft, but it doesn’t stop Alphas and plenty of others sniffing around, especially when you’re an unmated Omega witch, who’s wolf also happens to be white, the rarest kind. You don’t need anyone, but why do you keep coming back to Brookville and why do you keep walking into trouble and helping people that you don’t know but for some strange reason feel like family. And where is that smell of apple pie coming from?

Series Warnings: A/B/O, eventual smut, violence in parts, witchcraft, shapeshifters

Chapter Warnings: Mention of violence illness

Note: You won’t see much of Steve in these festive drabbles but they are important to the backstory as we see snippets of what led Y/N to leave her pack.

You were going home for Christmas. FFS. You didn’t want to. You’d have preferred to do have done plenty of other things. Walked over hot coals, put pins in your eyes, eaten a toad, anything but go home for Christmas. But then the Luna had called. Not Diana. The new one. Alpha Jacob’s mate. A lump formed in your throat as she started to tell you that they were finally having their blessing ceremony. They had mated a few months after you’d left and you had got to know her briefly before your departure but it was a struggle with everything that had happened over the months prior and with Jacob giving you sad puppy eyes in the background. She’d told you then how she wanted a Christmas blessing and you’d hoped you’d missed it having skipped Christmas last year. Jacob wasn’t a fan of social media and always gave clear instructions that he didn’t want things like his birthday all over the internet so you’d thought maybe the blessing was the same. You thought wrong. You were about to interrupt and make an excuse to end the call, I mean why was she calling you anyway, that’s when the hit came. They wanted you there. She wanted you there. Jacob wanted you there. You swallowed hard. Then the second hit came. She wanted you in the wedding. She wanted you to give them a witch’s blessing. Fuck. This wasn’t right surely. Jacob couldn’t think this was a good idea, could he? Your omega buried herself in the back of you mind to let the white wolf and witch takeover. Your temper started to rise and the lump in your throat started to turn venomous. How could he think this was right? You blessing them after what had gone on between you! Your snarky reply was stopped by a deep growl on the line. “Lila, what were my last words to you! OMEGA!!! What did I say?!” Jacob. There was a rustling and you heard a timid response. “I was excited. I just wanted to tell her. A witch’s blessing can help you have a pup.” You heard Jacob growl and your wolf snapped. This wasn’t her fault. She had no idea how things were between you. “Jacob Jones! You growl at her one more time and I’ll fly over there and beat the living shit out of you with my broom.” You heard him let out a shuddering breath as he said your name. “Y/N, I’m sorry.” “It’s not me you need to apologise to dipshit!” He signed and you heard his apology. “Lila, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have growled at you like that. It’s just it’s hard for her to come home.” “I just wanted to help. I thought I was helping. You said she doesn’t answer you or Tyler when you try so I thought I’d try. I thought I was helping.” “I know baby.” Vomit. You were pretty sure your face now looked like the green emoji. “Will you do it?” You realised he was talking to you again. “What?” “The blessing. Will you do it?” You sighed. “I know it’s hard..” “Actually Jacob you don’t know, you’ve not been rejected or dealt with the shit I have.” “I know, I’m sorry.” The line went quiet. “Y/N” “Do you really want me to do it?” “I do.” “Jacob, it doesn’t seem right. Don’t you think it’s weird if I do it?” “No.” “Jacob.” “She wants a witch’s blessing.” “She wants a pup.” “I know.” “You know a blessing doesn’t actually help you catch for a pup right? The herbs just boost fertility a little and flush your system. There’s no guarantee. That’s an old wives tale.” “I know but you’re one of the few I trust.” “Charming!” “I meant people, not witches.” You stayed silent. “Please Y/N. It’d mean a lot to her. To me. Mum and Dad too.” There it was. He was playing the David and Diana card. You tried not to bite. “How are the old dears anyway?” Jacob let out a whimper. You’d known him since you were three years old. You’d heard him whimper twice. Once when the rejection sickness was on the verge of taking you and again when he told you he found Lila. “Jacob, what’s going on?” You heard Lila comfort him. “Jacob, what is it? Jacob! Lila! Lila!” There was a rustle and you heard sniffles. “Alpha David, Y/N, he’s sick.”, it was Lila, her voice broke as she continued. “It’s bad Y/N.” Fuck. You were going home for Christmas and you were going to need Dragon’s Blood.

#alpha steve rogers #alpha steve rogers x reader #alpha steve rogers x omega #avengers au #steve rogers x reader

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ao3feed-drstrange · 6 months ago

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Why You Shouldn't Mess With Magic Doors

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/rNXYQkF by GothamiteEditor Peter should really learn not to let his curiosity or desire to prove he's worthy to be Spider-Man make decisions for him. Or. Peter Parker ends up in the Watch Tower, humiliates himself in front of a dude named Superman (no hyphen) and then is stranded with no way home. All because he couldn't not touch a magic door. Words: 3575, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, DCU, DCU (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Shazam! | Captain Marvel (Comics), Shazam! (Movies - Sandberg), The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M, Other Characters: Peter Parker, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Jason Todd, Billy Batson, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Duke Thomas, Stephen Strange, Tony Stark, Diana (Wonder Woman), Barry Allen, John Constantine, Alfred Pennyworth, Aunt May Parker (Marvel) Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Clark Kent & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Peter Parker, Billy Batson & Justice League, Billy Batson & Peter Parker, Batfamily Members & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Jason Todd, Justice League & Members of the Team (Young Justice), Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Peter Parker & Stephen Strange, Billy Batson & Shazamily Members Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, References to Depression, Multiverse, Peter Parker meets the Justice League, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, BAMF Peter Parker, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Precious Peter Parker, Tim Drake & Peter Parker Friendship, Peter Parker Whump, Protective Clark Kent, Established Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Billy Batson is Captain Marvel | Shazam, Homeless Billy Batson, Homeless Peter Parker, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Author Is Sleep Deprived, no beta we die like tony stark, More tags to be added, Warnings May Change, Vomiting, Blood and Injury, Graphic Description of Corpses read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/rNXYQkF

#IFTTT #stephen strange #dr strange #sorcerer supreme #marvel #the avengers #ao3 #ao3feed

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ao3feed-brucewayne · 6 months ago

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Why You Shouldn't Mess With Magic Doors

by GothamiteEditor Peter should really learn not to let his curiosity or desire to prove he's worthy to be Spider-Man make decisions for him. Or. Peter Parker ends up in the Watch Tower, humiliates himself in front of a dude named Superman (no hyphen) and then is stranded with no way home. All because he couldn't not touch a magic door. Words: 3575, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, DCU, DCU (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Shazam! | Captain Marvel (Comics), Shazam! (Movies - Sandberg), The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M, Other Characters: Peter Parker, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Jason Todd, Billy Batson, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Duke Thomas, Stephen Strange, Tony Stark, Diana (Wonder Woman), Barry Allen, John Constantine, Alfred Pennyworth, Aunt May Parker (Marvel) Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Clark Kent & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Peter Parker, Billy Batson & Justice League, Billy Batson & Peter Parker, Batfamily Members & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Jason Todd, Justice League & Members of the Team (Young Justice), Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Peter Parker & Stephen Strange, Billy Batson & Shazamily Members Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, References to Depression, Multiverse, Peter Parker meets the Justice League, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, BAMF Peter Parker, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Precious Peter Parker, Tim Drake & Peter Parker Friendship, Peter Parker Whump, Protective Clark Kent, Established Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Billy Batson is Captain Marvel | Shazam, Homeless Billy Batson, Homeless Peter Parker, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Author Is Sleep Deprived, no beta we die like tony stark, More tags to be added, Warnings May Change, Vomiting, Blood and Injury, Graphic Description of Corpses via https://ift.tt/1EofXj3

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the caped crusader #gotham #dcu #dc #ao3 #ao3feed

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sentfromwolves · 7 months ago

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Oooh I'm so very here for a pirate/prince dynamic! ; 0 ; <3 One of my favorite and also oldest ocs is a pirate heheh >:33 I take it there are fantasy elements to it too and it's not historical? that's so cool! I always love seeing fantasies and romantasies set on the high seas. I have an entire bookshelf dedicated to golden age of sail sweats LMAO

And omg field study genie lamp....I love that as a plot dkndskfn that's hilarious. Accidental roommate/and they were roommates trope my beloved. wait WSU....like washington state university? LMAO

and yesss hehe omg I would love to swap story excerpts and stuff!! >:33 my dms/discord are always open for ya too. I'm currently in the trenches of revisions for His Body a Broken Law, my urban fantasy standalone about a trans witch cursed to die on his 21st birthday and the demon possessing his car as they try to steal the heart of living city before their time runs out. It's grungy, gritty, and full of two gigantic morons stuck with each other for better or for worse right up until the end. My deadline for revisions is the 15th of June, so I'll be ideally seeking out beta readers after that hehe And then once I'm done with that I'm going to """relax""" by working on Starwoven, a soft celestial romantasy about a closeted trans prince who works by night as the mysterious, enigmatic Starweaver - a fashion designer that has dazzled the crowd of celestial nobles that gather every year for the marital season in the capital to look for the perfect bride or husband to be. His entire world is turned upside down when the mythical King Beyond Midnight arrives and asks for his elder siblings hand in marriage, only to be challenged by their father to find the Starweaver and unmask them in order to marry Diana.

It's basically a celestial Bridgerton meets Most Ardently, wherein Octavian (the king beyond midnight) meets Sirius during his escapades in the night, not realizing he is also Diana's younger brother who is often absent at the galas and events, and them falling in love while Sirius is like DO I NEED TO RUN AWAY FROM HOME LOL

I'm also going to be stabbing my knife into CDTC at some point, but I need to world build it first...it's a huge sci-fi dystopian epic in the vein of Horizon: Zero Dawn meets Fallout 76. It's going to be a lot larger than my other projects, and is about a group of young adults who wake up out of cryostate over two hundred years after being put under with the promise of surviving the apocalypse, only to find out that it was all a lie: they were unknowingly part of a genetic experimentation program, and they're suddenly thrust into the role of saving the world from the centuries long apocalypse that has slowly been devouring it - as well as evading capture by the world government that has capitalized on the destruction of the planet, and will do anything to put their escaped experiments back under control.

I know that was a lot of word vomit AAAA BUT ANYWAYS YES I'D LOVE TO READ MORE OF YOUR STORIES will definitely be checking out those links! >:3

Hey writing friends! (❁´◡`❁) Along with my new writeblr intro post, I also just wanted to make a more casual post too calling for more writeblr blogs to follow and interact with! If you write any of the following or are interested in the following and 18+ feel free to say hi! I'd also love to hear about all y'alls wips so I can find more writers to follow for 2024! (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

sci-fi and fantasy of any kind! cozy fantasy, epic fantasy, space opera, romantasy, you name it, i'm usually here for it! >:3

trans/nonbinary protagonists and big queer casts! it is my bread and butter (and what you'll always find me writing too)

Intricate worldbuilding in any genre! Especially ones with intricate politics, funky magical systems, or corrupt religious systems. I'm always down to yell about worldbuilding because I think it is Neat af

You just like to shout about ocs!! I'm so here for it, and I love making more connections here with people who obsess with their ocs the way I do. >:3 come yell at me about them anytime hehe

OT3S!! OT3S!! Please. Thank you.

2nd person POV & Epistolary Narratives or funky narrative experiments. This is hands down my favorite povs to read. I'm obsessed with them. Please come be obsessed about them with me.

Big found families! YES yep yes it's me I'm that bitch I love this stuff it's honestly my bread and butter ESPECIALLY IF IT IS DYSFUNCTIONAL AS HELL (bonus points if they try to murder each other at some point)

Non-European fantasies/celestial fantasies/space fantasies/underground fantasies. Yeah I know I put fantasy above, but celestial fantasies and consumed world concepts are something I'm obsessed with and I want more people to be obsessed with

Queer contemporary fiction. I'm usually in the sff boat but sometimes I write contemporary too, and I'd love to connect with more writers who write both.

The list could go on forever and ever, it's not exhaustive at all! Honestly if you're just interested in new writers to yell with, feel free to hit me up! I'm also looking to build a 2024 tag game list for writer games, so if you'd like to be added, let me know! I love spreading fun writing games around whenever I can. >:3 💝

#eran replies #the-golden-comet #hehe #PIRATES #pirate/prince dynamic seriously top tier #i love it sm

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zecretsanta · 2 years ago

Text

Fic: Shrapnel

[AO3 Link]

To: @dcomexperiment

From: @lightphieric

Happy holidays from one Eric appreciator to another! The prompt was Eric going through horror and angst, and what could be more horrifying for him than dealing with his own guilt in the aftermath of that infamous grenade launcher ending?

Some content warnings because this is rather dark: Canon-typical violence, death, and gore, mental breakdowns, vomiting, references to past child abuse, and implied sex.

—

Eric dropped the grenade launcher as Mira pulled him out of the way, and with it, he let go of the power and confidence it made him feel. That was a high he would never achieve again. Cowering behind the staircase, he plummeted back down to small and powerless. The explosion left his hands buzzing with numbness; his ears whined and his vision was hazy. None of that seemed to fade as the dust settled.

“Now announcing the current casualties.” The mysterious voice warbled distantly. “C-Team: Carlos, Junpei. Q-Team: Q. D-Team: Diana, Sigma, Phi. These six are now deceased. As a result, six X-Passes will now be revealed: Fight, Jump, Bro, Red, Milk, Blue.”

Eric stood on unsteady legs. He felt weightless and too heavy all at once. Behind him, Mira pushed herself up. He was afraid to look at her, terrified to see her furious expression. Meanwhile, as he looked upon the destruction he’d wrought, the corners of his mouth automatically lifted in a smile, and he couldn’t pull them down.

“What an idiot!” he said thoughtlessly, before floating into the center of the ruined library.

There wasn’t much left of Q or his chair. One leg was twisted in the spokes of the wheels, and the rest of his limbs didn’t seem to be around. Eric averted his eyes from the flayed red void that used to be the old man’s face, swallowing down the smell of blood and burnt paper behind his smile.

“Don’t touch,” Mira said with a cough. She grabbed Eric’s arm. She had never touched him so forcefully, although it didn’t seem to be in anger. He thought he liked it, even though his arm was too numb to feel the pressure of her fingers.

“Why would I touch them?” Absentmindedly, Eric took another step forwards. Mira pulled him back before his shoe glanced the blood.

“Come on,” she insisted. “Let’s get out of here. Better not give Akane a chance to beat us.”

Akane. That was the name she noticed was omitted from the death count. Someone who was still a threat to them. Of course.

Eric stared at Sean as they escaped the library. He was drenched in Q’s blood, and his helmet was charred, with a piece of Q’s wheelchair having lodged itself in an eyehole. The kid had never counted as an actual participant in the Decision Game. His death meant nothing, but there he was, twitching with the last shreds of life he had.

Eric rubbed his eyes with shaking hands when he thought he saw Sean reach his arm out to him. When he opened them again, the library door was shut, sealing the dead behind the facility’s walls.

—

Eric’s fingers kept slipping off the keys as he tried to plug in the X-Passes. After misspelling the word “blue” three times, he needed Mira to sub in. She did it without complaint; what a relief that she didn’t seem to hate him.

He dictated the passes for her, reading them off the scoreboard on the wall. Seeing the names written up there in that cold, clerical font, it hit him that six people had really died here. A bitter lump rose in his throat, but he swallowed it down as the rumble and shriek of the X-Door opening reminded him what that meant.

Mira took a step back as the door opened, and Eric caught her hand in his. She looked over at him hesitantly. He smiled back. It was okay. Six people had died, but it was all so Mira could escape.

Everything bad that had happened, had happened for her.

He ran out the X-Door once it was open, laughing with glee, and Mira struggled to keep pace. Their bracelets unclasped and clattered to the floor behind them as they ran, leaving all evidence of their ordeal squarely in the past. Now, the future was waiting for them. In the antechamber before the lift, they found duffel bags containing their wallets, Mira’s favorite necklace and other valuables they’d brought to Dcom, a change of clothes for both of them, keys to a truck, two plane tickets home to Nebraska and two keycards to a room at a nearby motel.

“Are you tired?” asked Mira, leafing through her wallet to make sure nothing had been taken.

“Nope!” Eric lied.

“Good. That means we can head straight to the airport.” She placed the keycards in her wallet and hid it in her back pocket. “The motel is probably meant to be a secluded place where the winning team can clean up. But you didn’t touch the bodies, so there’s no need for that.”

“What bodies?”

Mira smiled slyly. Beautiful. “Keep that attitude up and we should be fine.”

The night sky was cool and dry and huge and oppressive. Eric scrambled to get inside the truck when they found it waiting for them not far from the exit point. Something about the enclosed space was comforting.

Mira insisted that Eric drive. “There’s debris in my bra and it itches like hell. I’m getting in the backseat. To change.” She reached over him to angle the rearview mirror down and gave him a long, lingering look before slipping into the back of the truck.

Despite how intently Eric focused on the path before him, there were no roads or signs in sight. Zero had prepared them for the endless desert with a map and a compass, but their directions scrambled into alphabet soup in Eric’s mind. Eventually, Mira begrudgingly hopped into the passenger’s seat, taking over navigation. After what felt like hours of aimless circling, they happened upon a road.

The hour was late and the road was barren. Cars still passed them occasionally, signs of human life that sent a shiver through Eric; under the eclipse, their shiny metal roofs looked soaked in blood. Eric could almost smell it.

—

The TSA were the reason Eric hated flying. They had a way of making him think he was guilty of something. He would always sweat under the metal detectors, convinced he’d somehow forgotten about the automatic rifle he was carrying or the dead body stuffed into his carry-on.

And now, it wasn’t just paranoia. He really was wilting under the airport’s fluorescent lights, and he was sure the agents could see that. He was shaking, like he had been ever since he saw another person step out of their car in the parking lot. And he was sure there was something, something staining his clothes that would make him unfit to be seen by human eyes, much less to fly.

Luckily, he had that unyielding smile to carry him. He stepped confidently through the metal detector, grinning so hard it dragged an eyeroll from the agent operating it. She waved him through after the beep and he barely kept himself from toppling forwards as he passed her, bowled over by a sense of relief. A sound like rushing water filled his ears, drowning out most of the airport’s ambient noise, and he could only stand there recovering until he noticed that Mira was still talking to the agent inspecting their bags.

Why would they be hounding Mira? She was the picture of innocence. Eric tried to look intimidating as he stormed towards them. His face was hot and red, but he feared his smile was undermining his image. Mira turned at his footsteps and gestured towards him with a chuckle. “My boyfriend. Can’t stand getting to the gate any later than three hours early.”

The agent gave a salute as she gathered up their duffel bags and beckoned for Eric to follow her into the terminal. “Enjoy Nebraska, folks,” he said with a grimace.

Mira offered Eric his bag, and when he didn’t take it from her, she frowned and slung it over her other shoulder. “We were just making small talk,” she said. “It didn’t mean anything.”

“But you didn’t do anything wrong, Mira!” Eric sputtered. “You’re innocent!”

“Yeah, and making small talk can help convince people of that,” said Mira. She spoke slowly, like she thought Eric’s hearing was impaired.

Which it was. The rushing sound was only getting louder. “They should just leave you alone. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Mira grabbed his sleeve with a huff and sped her pace. She dragged him forwards for a while, before stopping in front of a deserted gate and double checking to make sure no one was nearby. She leaned in, her lips by his ear. So close. “You’re doing a shit job of acting natural,” she whispered. “Try to keep it together until we’re out of public, at least.”

“You’re a good person.” Eric couldn’t stop himself from babbling. “You would never hurt anyone.”

“Tell yourself that.” Mira grasped his hand harder and started again towards their gate.

Eric followed. If public displays of affection like this were part of acting natural, then he shouldn’t have a problem with it. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that a terrible mistake had just been made, that he was somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be.

They sat down at their gate, surrounded by people working on their laptops or talking or napping while they waited for the flight to board. The people blended in with the blue of the carpet under them and the sterile gray of the walls behind them. Eric knew they were all staring at him, like they hated him. Under their scrutiny, sweat dripped into his eyes and his teeth chattered. He flashed an appeasing smile at all the blurred shapes judging him, the same smile he’d been unable to shake for hours.

It finally fell as he set eyes on two people sitting rows away.

They were the only clear image in a sea of confusion: a young boy asleep, his head resting on the back of his grandfather’s wheelchair. The old man held the boy’s hand as he drifted off to sleep as well. Both of their chests were rising, falling. Peaceful, and alive. A hallucination. An impossibility, given that they were in the room with a killer.

He stood up like a shot before he even realized he was doing it. “Mira, get away.”

Mira sighed. “Eric, stop this.” She grabbed his wrist and tried to pull him back into his seat, but he shook her away like he thought he’d burn her.

“Get away from me, it’s not safe. I-I’m dangerous!” Eric swallowed painfully as the truth came crashing back onto him like a ton of bricks. He backed away from Mira into the thoroughfare, raising his voice so she could still hear him. “I killed them.”

“What are you talking about?” said Mira through grit teeth.

“Sean and Q!” He pointed at their analogues. “I killed – I fucking blew them up!” The boy and the old man remained asleep, but for the other passengers, Eric’s pointing arm drew a line straight to him. “God, fuck… I…” He brought his other shaking hand up to his forehead, wiping away the sweat stinging his eyes, then grabbing a fistful of hair. He pulled hard enough to tear away some strands, but he couldn’t feel the pain. He couldn’t feel anything but the blast of heat from the explosion on his face, the ringing in his ears as Sean screamed, a tug in his gut as he remembered the gaping holes in Q’s torso where his limbs used to be.

The only thing in his stomach was the beer he’d drank in the lounge, but it was enough. The alcohol burned its way back up his throat. Eric was thrown to his hands and knees by the force of his retching, and brown bile splattered onto the floor.

His fingers twitched against the soiled carpet, his left index finger gripping the cold trigger of a grenade launcher, the rest curling around a skinny neck, squeezing against the neckline of a helmet, snapping an arthritic spine. “Q… Sean…” He felt hard tile under his knees, vomit and overflowing water soaking into the fabric of his pants. “Chris…” Even though his legs had given out entirely, he imagined standing up and seeing his reddened face in the bathroom mirror. He saw Dad’s haggard beard and the wildness in his eyes.

Eric would avoid mirrors for the rest of his life if it meant never seeing that.

A kindly hand – thick-fingered, no long nails, not Mira – touched Eric on the arm. Eric thrashed as he brought his hands up to hug himself, shaking the stranger off. Other bystanders were not so charitable. He heard the beeps of people dialing their phones. There were footsteps, running back in the direction of the TSA. So many people gathered, ready to see him get tasered, arrested, committed, shot.

“I did it to protect us, Mira. Zero said ‘Kill one’ so I did!” He couldn’t stop himself from confessing, confessing, confessing. “But I was so angry… that little shit, he made me so mad. It was his fault!” A body appeared before him, small and covered with no blood, but lifeless all the same. Its face was blond and familiar. “It was Chris’s fault!”

His voice gave out on his brother’s name, rasping into a whisper. He’d been shouting and hadn’t even realized it, attracting a massive crowd which closed in around him. With no voice left to defend himself, Eric melted into violent sobs. The TSA arrived and he had no strength to resist them as they hoisted him up by the shoulders and dragged him away. He hung loosely in their grasp, just barely finding the strength to lift his head and catch what was surely his last glimpse of Mira, distant, disappointed and hating him.

Then a stabbing pain entered his neck, and the image of Mira turned to blackness.

—

He felt his whole body as he woke up. He wasn’t in pain, just very heavy. Denial couldn’t be the wind under his sails anymore. His voice rasped as he groaned, overwhelmed by the feeling of humanity returning to him.

“Hmm. You’re awake.”

Slowly, Eric turned his head. “Mira?” She sat next to him, regarding him coolly. The wall behind her was a warm white, the seat under her a rich cream. A small window framed her face, wisps of clouds floating by in the background. She was angelic, saintly, even; he felt like she’d saved him and taken him to heaven. “We’re on the plane?”

“Private jet, actually.” Mira gestured around her and Eric turned to look. The cabin was small and the rows were empty, besides them and a man sitting in the very back. He wore a red and black suit. It wasn’t clear whether or not he was watching them behind his sunglasses. “Pretty nice, right?” said Mira. “Free the Soul really came through. Dressing up as TSA and tranqing you was brilliant.”

“Free the…” Eric groaned and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I’m sorry, whose jet is this?”

“I’m not really sure, to be honest,” said Mira. “No one ever explained to me how these guys worked. Hell, you just murdered their leader. For all I know, this jet belongs to you now.”

Eric cringed as he remembered. He was a monster. He’d ended the Decision Game by killing two people. Some would say it was the right thing to do; someone had to have died or else none of them would have ever gotten out of there. But now he was out, and for the rest of his life, he was going to be a person who had killed. With that guilt weighing him down, his breakdown at the airport would not be his last.

He hoped she was kidding about the jet being his. The seats were the softest things he’d ever sat on and it looked like there was a fully stocked bar. Not to mention the beautiful woman in the seat next to him. All things he certainly didn’t deserve.

He looked at Mira with a pleading grimace. “Mira,” he said, “do you hate me?”

Mira exhaled through her nose and rolled her eyes. A laugh. “Hate is an awfully strong word for me,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever hated anything.”

“But are you mad at me?”

“I mean, I’m still a little annoyed.” Mira sighed and flicked a strand of hair over her shoulder. “But really, it’s on me. I have practice making myself look guiltless. You don’t. I should have coached you before we got to the airport.”

“The airport?” Eric bit his lip. She couldn’t have forgotten already, could she? “No, that’s not what I mean. Mira, I…” Now that he was lucid, it was harder to get the words out. “I killed two people.”

“One.”

“Huh?”

“Sean isn’t dead,” said Mira matter-of-factly. “Maybe ‘broken’ is a more appropriate word. He’s a robot, Eric. I put it together.”

She was inscrutable. She’d said a lot of weird things like this before, things that Eric had assumed were jokes. He’d genuinely thought she was the funniest person he had ever met, with her imagination and deadpan delivery. After the things Eric had seen the day before, he was starting to believe she had never been joking at all. “Oh,” he said. “That does kind of make sense.” It didn’t.

“He might be worth going back for, actually. See if he’s at all salvageable. And I guess Akane doesn’t deserve to be trapped there either… Stop pouting, Eric. I’ll spell it all out for you in simple terms later.”

Eric bit his lip and turned his head. He’d been so afraid of Mira despising him, but at least that would have made sense. She was looking at him with this calm, gentle, almost pitying look, and his brain couldn’t reconcile it. “But Q… Q is definitely dead, though,” he muttered. Did she not believe that either? Did she love Eric so much that she could ignore it? Or was she just that heartless?

“It’s funny that you’d think I’d care.” As Eric was starting to worry about what kind of woman he’d fallen in love with, Mira’s hand shot out and landed on his thigh. The touch was new and intriguing, the last thing he’d expected. And it made all his worries flicker out of existence. “You’re certainly not the man I thought you were. But the most surprising thing is that I think I like it.” Her other hand went under his chin, moving his head to meet her gaze. “You’re ruthless,” she said with a glint in her eye Eric had never seen before. “It’s quite something to see.”

Mira kissed him then with more passion than she ever had. Tongue, too. Eric worried for a moment about the man sitting in the back row, but eventually the world around them melted. Their surroundings didn’t matter anymore. The past didn’t, either. He smiled against her lips and let himself forget once again.

—

They got back home and made love for two days straight. Mira was commanding and intense, everything Eric had ever wanted. At the same time, her stark lack of experience eased his own insecurities. She tested out several pet names for him; as she purred them into his ear, he felt like he was worth something for once. They paused only to cook breakfast together, watch the new episode of Mira’s favorite reality show that she had missed while in Nevada, and sometimes just to rest and chat. Mira would lay her head on Eric’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, and mention things like Q or Sean or the Decision Game.

But none of that mattered. The past was all a dream. Nothing existed but her and now and domestic bliss. Eric would just laugh when she tried to bring up anything else.

“What happened to you?” Mira asked him. “How did you get to be so… happy?”

It wasn’t happiness so much as it a delirium. But it was a good one. In Eric’s eyes, Mira’s apartment was awash in pinks and gentle yellows and she was haloed in a soft, hazy blur. His head felt stuffed with cotton and he could hear those distant waves behind his eardrums. It was a trance. It was wonderful. He never wanted it to break.

As their two perfect days wore on, Mira’s eyes dulled with boredom. She lamented, “You have more important things to teach me than this.” Eric supposed he knew that this couldn’t last and that soon they would have to get back to their lives. But that life would be perfect, too: booming careers, a happy family, and so much love, forever and ever and ever. They were happy, and nothing would be able to stop them.

Not even a knife across his throat.

#submission #zero escape #zero time dilemma #zero time dilemma spoilers #ztd #dcomexperiment #lightphieric #zecret santa 2022

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plaidbooks · 2 years ago

Text

Homegrown ch. 8

A/N: Sorry this update to so long to post! I had the chapter written for weeks, but I went back and changed a lot of it. But it’s here now, so please enjoy!

Also, I made another OC--one of Benjamin’s children.

Tags: kidnapping, injuries, talk of blood, minor character death (OC), vomit

Words: 1441

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @adowbaldwin

Lyra woke up groggy and disorientated. The last thing she remembered was being in the garden, clipping dead branches off the roses, when she felt the cold stare of a vampire and tasted the coppery tang of blood. Then, it all went black.

Now, glancing around with heavy eyes, she found herself in a plain room. The walls were made of stone, but were rough and jagged, rather than smoothed. Blinking rapidly to get rid of the blurriness, she only found four walls, a white, metal door, and a drain in the middle of the floor, rusty-colored stains around it. As she looked, the door swung inward, and a man—a vampire—she had never met stood in its entrance.

He had shaggy, black hair that fell around his face in loose curls. He was not a particularly big man, nor was his frame intimidating, but the cruelness in his eyes and smile made a shiver travel down Lyra’s back.

“Ah, it seems the drugs are finally wearing off,” he stated, more to himself than to her. His eyes flicked over her body before settling on her face. “How’re you feeling?”

Confused at what was happening and where she was, Lyra answered truthfully, “I feel groggy, unsteady.” Her tongue was heavy in her mouth, and she found it hard to speak, let alone think. Was this man here to help her?

The vampire nodded before moving swiftly towards her. She had no chance to stop him even if she wanted to before he wrapped a strong hand around her throat and pinned her to the wall behind her. She gasped in shock, having never been in imminent danger before.

“What makes you different? Why would Matthew throw everything into chaos for you?” the man asked, his breath hot on Lyra’s face.

“M—Matthew? Who’s Matthew?”

The man sneered, “you’re a terrible liar.”

Lyra had no idea what he was talking about, but she was uncomfortable with his hold on her. “Please, sir, let me go—I don’t know who you are or what you want—”

“How rude of me; I’m your grandson, Liam.”

Lyra furrowed her brow. “Grandson? I don’t have children—”

“But you must know Matthew does. I’m Benjamin’s son, hence making me Matthew’s grandson—and by extension, his mate’s grandson.”

“Mate? Matthew? What are you talking about—”

Liam pulled Lyra from the wall before slamming her back against it, hard. Stars exploded in her eyes, and she gasped in pain, her head rocking off the hard stone. With the drugs still in her system, her vision blurred more, and she felt nausea roiling inside her.

“I’m tired of your weak attempts to play stupid, Diana,” he sneered. “If I were you, I’d start talking—I’m not as cruel as my father. He’s coming in a few days, so I get to have my fun with you, first. If you tell me what I want to know, maybe he’ll simply kill you.”

Lyra’s head was spinning with pain and confusion, trying to wrap herself around what was happening—this man seemed to think she was Diana for some reason. Maybe if she simply explained that she wasn’t, he’d let her go. Right?

“My name is Lyra. I’m a witch from the forest, not Diana—”

“Do not play me for a fool!” Liam yelled in her face before throwing her like a ragdoll into another wall. Her left shoulder made a sickening crack, and she cried out in pain.

******************

Gallowglass didn’t feel the wind on his face nor the ground underneath his feet. His mind was too distracted, thinking about who could’ve taken Lyra and why. But deep, deep down, he was terrified at what he’d find when they found her.

He missed Baldwin’s and Marcus’s discussion on where she could be, missed how they came up with a building in the middle of nowhere. He just heard the location and took off. He didn’t need to look back to know his uncle and cousin were hot on his heels.

The small, rational part of his mind knew that Lyra had only been gone a few hours. But the hardened, warrior side of him knew that anything could happen to her in that short amount of time. All he knew was that he needed to find her and now.

Only his long, long life could’ve braced him for when he made it to the building. Rather than rush in, stealth took over, and he snuck inside, careful not to make a noise. He crept into the foyer, then sniffed the air. A heavy scent—the one that matched the vampire intruder back at the chateau—permeated the space. But underneath all of that was the sharp tang of blood.

Gallowglass was just about to ask the others if they could tell where the scent was heavier when he heard it. A loud, high-pitched scream of pure pain slammed through him like a physical blow. Gallowglass would never know what happened next; his feet moved without his conscious thought. Down two flights of stairs, through a door, and he saw them.

The vampire with his back to the door, Lyra trembling in his grip, her sundress ripped and tears trailing down her face. But worst of all—the thing that made Gallowglass’s vision go red—was a fresh bite mark in the crook of her neck.

******************

There was pain throughout her body. In fact, if Liam wasn’t holding her by the throat once more, she’d be crumpled on the ground. She was trembling from his last strike, sticky blood dripping down her body from the claw marks across her stomach. Her left arm hung uselessly, and she was unable to even curl her fingers.

“You bore me with your weakness, sniveling in fear. I don’t understand why my father is so obsessed with you,” Liam said with a scowl of disgust. “Maybe I should just drink from you, see your memories.”

“Pl—please—” Lyra begged, sobbing uncontrollably. She wasn’t even sure what she was begging for, just wanting—needing—to get away from this monster.

He sneered at her before, quick as lightening, he sunk his teeth into the right side of her neck. She screamed in pain, her throat going raw with the sound. Weakly, she pushed at him with her good arm, but there was no dislodging him.

Liam drank a few mouthfuls from her, almost humming with the taste. But when he leaned back to look at her, his eyes were wide with shock.

“You—you’re not Di—"

Suddenly, Liam let her go. An unfamiliar, male voice screamed, “NOOOOO!” as metal slammed against stone. Then, there was a loud snap followed by a thud as Lyra slid to the ground, scratching her back painfully against the wall. Once slumped on the ground, she opened her eyes to find Liam sprawled a few inches in front of her, his neck twisted almost 180 degrees. His unseeing eyes bore into hers, shock still on his features.

Lyra turned and vomited. She vaguely heard, “get him out of here,” in a familiar voice, and she struggled to stop retching.

“E—Eric?” she gasped, throat burning from the acid and her screaming. There was a rustle of clothes, and then Gallowglass was there, kneeling in front of her.

“Let me get ya home, my little flùr,” he said softly with a smile—though, his eyes radiated concern. He tried to help her up, but she was in too much pain to uncurl her body.

“It hurts,” she whined, fresh tears spilling down her face.

His expression softened, “I know, but we need to get ya home to patch ya up.”

Marcus appeared over Gallowglass’s shoulder. “Just knock her out, Gallow—”

But he was cut off by a deep growl from Gallowglass, something Lyra never heard from him before. Her fear must’ve shown on her face, because he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, mind working.

“Do you trust me, Lyra?” he asked, eyes scanning hers.

She didn’t hesitate, didn’t need to think about it. “Yes.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up before he brought his thumb to his mouth. He bit into the pad of his thumb until there was a drop of blood.

“Taste my blood, and it’ll take away the pain…for a little bit,” he explained, holding his thumb out to her.

She trusted him so much, yet her stomach roiled at the thought of tasting blood. Even so, she swallowed the bile and stuck her tongue out, licking his blood. Before the nausea could take over, darkness took her.

#gallowglass x oc #gallowglass de clermont x oc #adow #adow fanfic #a discovery of witches fanfic #fanfic #my writing #homegrown

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amescastaignede · 2 months ago

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"It's...easy to, y'know, fall into old habits...I would've probably. done th-- actually, I probably wouldn't have..." a faltering sad-smile finding her lips. Not after she'd seen that t-shirt. It was a flash, a reminder of how seperate she was from his world now. Amélie could've stayed...and when she looked at him, in this small tent...she wanted nothing more than to go back. Unfortunately...there were things that were bigger than them both. And her beliefs superceeded everything else. "It's okay, it's just habits, right..." the words felt wrong, hollow.

Because she knew, in her core, that it was more than that.

Amélie wanted to brush off the need to word vomit -- the need to tell him her all secrets...and instead, she was toying with the idea of pretend everything was absolutely fine, that she hadn’t felt every step she'd made in moving on crumbled back to square one the second she found herself in his presence. The voice she'd missed so much, finding her when she'd been spiralling like he had so many times hen he'd been hers. Regardless of the past few months...she still loved him all the same. For a woman with such strong moral convictions...it was confusing. In the past she'd been able to shut it off, and see everything as you always had: black and white.

And then Gideon happened into her world...and black and white became grey.

"Felicity has a talent for getting people to do things they don’t want to," forcing herself to look up, to meet those blue eyes she used to drown in. It was there that she could've let her resolve break, to lose the tight, unbreakble grip she had on the rope of her sanity. "I've managed..." her voice was telling enough: it hadn't been great. In fact, it'd pushed Amélie to the breaking point. And while she wasn't sure mentioning her conversation with Adriana was the best idea -- she didn't want to get in the middle, to be the cause. Not now. Because while she wasn't scared of Gideon...she sure was scared of his family.

"Some people here are very pro Gideon." It was all she was willing to say. Amélie hadn't spent her life with a plethora of friends, she'd been lucky if she had more than her brother, and his friends. And in some ways, she was envious that he had so many people in his corner...but in the same breath -- she was glad he had people looking out for him. "Are you having fun? I mean...as much as you can when Diana is watching everyone at all times, no doubt."

'Just, uh, stay there...'

His gaze drops immediately to the scatter of papers that surround her, wondering what she's writing about that he isn't privy to any longer. It causes a physical kind of ache in his chest to remind himself that he no longer has the right to ask, or to worry what she might be getting herself into. Gideon clears his throat with a nod, politely looking away to give her the time she needs to get organized. "I should've announced myself before entering like that. Sometimes I forget th-..." No, don't go there. "In any case, I'm sorry."

He doesn't feel okay when he looks at her, and judging from the faint crease between her brows, doesn't believe Amélie feels it, either. So he ignores the question. They've never lied to each other about things like that, Gideon doesn't intend to start now.

"I was surprised when I saw your name on the guest list. And then I figured-... Well, I suspected your boss might've had something to do with it." She's such an open book that one glance at Amélie's expression seems to all but confirm it. "Can imagine that it's the last place you want to be after... After everything." Their breakup. Her feelings about his family's business. The French presence on the grounds.

"Still, I-... I hope the weekend hasn't been too intolerable for you." He wants to move closer. He wants to smooth the frown from her brow. He wants to turn back the clock to a time where he didn't feel like such a stranger standing in her space.

#drrutherford #gideon & amélie #event: the camp out 24'#location: amélie's tent #int. amélie's tent

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irondad-not-ironsad · 3 years ago

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sobering up

Summary: In which Anne hurls on Gilbert's shoes, and Gilbert should thank her for it.

3x08 fix it

A/N: Woke up with this idea this morning, and I think this is the most I've ever laughed while writing. I guess even if no one else is amused by this, at least I got a good chuckle out of it. Also, because I literally could not think of a title, and "anne's vomit saves the day" sounded to gross, I'm just calling it sobering up cause Anne does that during this fic and it's the only think I could think of that wasn't puke related

"Just… one thing." Afraid to say more lest he be rejected, Gilbert simply gives her a look which he means to convey his love, but in the case the feeling is not reciprocated would still allow him plausible deniability as to not ruin their friendship.

"I don't know what to say… I-what am I supposed to… and everyone-everyone is now, and you just, and I'm… pirate-and we never even! And Paris is- and you are never gonna find that much I know! So how… can't… I… we…" His heart sinks at what he sees at the obvious rejection. Even looking at her face, she appears as if she is going to be sick at the very thought of his feelings for her. He allows himself to stare at her for a moment as to wallow in self pity, before opening his mouth to bid her farewell. Before he can get the words out, however, Anne leans over and hurls.

Had Gilbert not been so concerned, he probably would have been disgusted by the vomit ruining his dress shoes. As it was, his friend clearly needed some help so he quickly stood to move behind her and hold her hair out of her face, and rubs her back in a way he hopes is comforting as she loses the contents of her stomach.

It takes Gilbert an embarrassing amount of time to recognize the smell of alcohol, and a small part of him is relieved that it wasn't his confession that made her ill. In fact, with this newfound knowledge Gilbert realizes that this was probably not the best time to try and have any kind of serious conversation, as Anne would likely not remember this tomorrow.

Once it seems Anne has finished, he thinks that she probably ought to drink some water. Looking around, he realizes that the only beverage there at the ruins was moonshine, which would certainly only make things worse. He does not think returning Anne to Green Gables would be a great idea at the moment, as if Marilla saw her in this state she would certainly have a conniption. He knew that she was not on speaking terms with Diana at the moment, but thought perhaps in her hour of need she'd be willing to take the redhead home with her.

Looking over to where the rest of the class was, he saw the brunette taking a large swig from the last remaining bottle of moonshine, and realized that would probably not work. Seeing no other option, he decides he'll bring her to his house to sober her up. Hazel would not be pleased if she found them, but he supposed it was better for him to get a dirty look from Ms. Lacroix then Anne never be allowed to leave Green Gables again.

"Hey, Anne? I think we should probably get you out of here, eh?" The girl nods, and allows Gilbert to help her up. When it's clear she won't be able to walk on her own, he kneels slightly and gestures for her to put an arm around his shoulder for support. In this moment, Gilbert is extremely grateful he had come with his carriage direct from the station.

"I don't think the Cuthberts would be thrilled to see you in this state, so I figured it might be best if we head to my place first? Just so you can freshen up and maybe have some coffee before you go home."

As unpleasant as it was, it appears that throwing up had done her some good in that she could now speak coherently.

"Coffee? At this hour?" She looks a bit skeptical.

"Um, from what I've seen it tends to help when one has had a bit too much to drink."

"Ah so you're quite experienced in this area?" Gilbert was certainly not about to offer up the story of himself trying rum in Trinidad for the first time, nor the time he successfully kept the drink down only to be completely inebriated before he finished his second glass. At the memory, he was suddenly grateful he'd only pretended to take sips of the drink he had been offered a few hours earlier.

"I lived on a boat for a year, so I would hear things. How much moonshine did you have anyways?"

"Well we began drinking pretty much right after the exam, and between us all I think we've finished almost four bottles. I'd do the math, but after that exam I'd be happy to never even think about math again."

Gilbert himself quite enjoyed doing math, but remembering the size of the bottle he saw and that there were only about twelve people present, he shuddered. He'd never tried "the shine" as the other boys called it, but from what he knew of it he was shocked Anne was the only one who got ill.

"I must admit, I'm kind of sad I missed the fun"

"Oh please, you'd have passed out hours ago. I do talk to your brother, y'know." Gilbert would be having words with Bash in the morning, though he was sure he wouldn't listen to him anyways. While Gilbert hadn't wanted to embarrass her earlier, she was bringing out his competitive side.

"I'm not sure you're one to talk, carrots." Upon hearing the nickname, she smacked him on the shoulder.

"You're lucky I don't have my slate! And I wasn't that bad!"

"My shoes would say otherwise." At that, she looked at his shoes and seemed to realize for the first time what she had done, as she cringed slightly.

"I'm sorry, did I ruin them?" Gilbert was quite sure she had, but seeing the remorseful look on her face he decided he had teased her enough.

"It's no big deal, I've been meaning to get a new pair." He had, in fact, only purchased this pair a few weeks ago but he supposes what Anne doesn't know can't hurt her. "Anyways, fill me in one what I missed?"

As Anne tells him all about the shenanigans of that day, Gilbert cannot help but stare at her a little more than he probably should while he's meant to be steering. Just as she finished describing the game of red rover they had played, they arrived at the fork in the road at which they could head to either of their homes.

"You seem to be feeling better, shall I just take you back to Green Gables?" He tries not to look disappointed as he says this, but even though he wasn't sure how she felt for him, he had been enjoying their time together.

As if reading his mind, Anne smirked.

"I think we oughtn't risk it. While my thoughts are much clearer, I don't think I'd be capable of not stumbling up to my room, which would certainly wake Marilla. So, if you don't mind, I think it's best I come to yours, at the very least to freshen up." She sounded more like she was convincing herself than anything, but Gilbert was not going to complain.

After Anne had splashed some water at her face, she joined Gilbert at the kitchen table. As they both sipped on cups of coffee, they found themselves in a slightly awkward, though not completely uncomfortable silence. As the redhead kept her gaze on the wood table, she spoke.

"What were you trying to ask me at the ruins?" At this, she finally made eye contact with him. While Gilbert knew he ought to simply say it outright, he couldn't help but still keep his guard up.

"What do you think I meant?" As he said this, he once again relied on his face to convey his meaning.

"Gilbert Blythe, I'd much rather have this conversation with you than your eyebrows, so if you could please use your words for once I'd greatly appreciate it." This stunned him into silence. He must admit, her willingness to speak her mind was a large part of what endeared her to him, but sometimes it left him speechless. After a few moments of silence, she stood.

"Well, if you've got nothing to say to me I suppose I'll be on my way. Thanks for the coffee." He noted to himself that despite her clear annoyance with him, she still made the effort to keep her voice down so as to not wake Delphine. His internal swooning nearly made him forget to follow her as she made for the door. Luckily, he made it to her just as she opened the door and grabbed her arm.

"Anne, wait, I'm sorry. I guess I've never had your way with words, but I'm willing to try if you'll let me."

Anne paused for a moment as if to contemplate, but the twinkle in her eye told him she was likely only doing so to tease him.

"I suppose you could say your piece while walking me home, if that sounds quite alright to you?" Without waiting for an answer, she began walking and he quickly took his place beside her. He considered offering her his arm, but decided it would be best to tell her how he feels before making such a gesture.

"I suppose I'd best start by not burying the lead this time. Anne, You are the fond object of my affection and my desire. You, and you alone are the keeper of the key to my heart." At this, Anne's jaw drops, and afraid he's offended her, he continues "Please don't be alarmed, I don't expect your favor, but I can't in good conscience not reveal myself. When Mr. Rose offered me what I had once thought was my dream on a silver platter, I did not feel excited or grateful. My first and only thought was of you. I won't be getting engaged to Winifred, or anyone unless, someday… What I mean to say, Anne," He finally gathers the courage to look at her again for her reaction, and when he sees a smile he reaches for her hand. "My Anne with an 'e', it always has been, and always will be you."

"Why Gilbert, how dare you lie directly to my face!" He would perhaps be concerned at this, had she not been smiling so wide he was sure it must hurt.

"Dare I ask what you mean?"

"You told me you did not have a way with words, but that was without a doubt the loveliest declaration I have ever heard." He squeezed her hand at this, before stopping them both and moving to stand in front of her.

"Anne, I must know; do you truly have feelings for me?"

"Well, nothing I say now could top your own words, so I shall keep it simple: I love you too, Gilbert."

For a moment they were lost in each other's eyes, neither seeming willing to move away. After what felt like hours, Gilbert brought a hand up to her cheek.

"I'd ask if I could kiss you, but your breath still kind of smells like vomit." Knowing her temper all too well, he presses a quick kiss to her hand before releasing it so he can turn and run.

"How dare you!" Love confessions aside, this was still Anne and Gilbert after all. Only now, when she catches up to him rather than receiving a slate to the head, she jumps on his back. This action sent them both tumbling to the ground. After awkwardly climbing off of eachother, they found themselves lying next to each other, looking up at the stars. Once their laughter subsided, Gilbert took hold of Anne's hand once more.

"If it makes you feel better, I'd be happy to kiss you tomorrow once the smell is gone."

"Keep poking fun and see if you ever get the chance to."

A/N: This was meant to end with Gilbert dropping Anne off at home and them promising to talk tomorrow, but then I thought of the line "I'd much rather have this conversation with you than your eyebrows." Also, when I tell you it was so hard to not have them kiss in it I'm not even lying. When I write dialogue, i try to imagine myself as the character, and the amount of times these characters wanted to kiss eachother during this was insane. However, once I thought of gilbert saying "I'd kiss you but your breath smells like puke" I simply could not resist. Might've made the fic take a turn towards being crack, but the central idea of this fic was Anne puking on Gilbert's shoes, so it's not as if it wasn't crack to begin with.

#shirbert #shirbert fanfic #renew anne with an e #anne shirley cuthbert #gilbert blythe #anne x gilbert #my writing

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allkinds-oftrash · 2 years ago

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The Crown S5E5 Commentary

Non-Spoiler Thoughts: So this is a Charles centric episode so heads up and honestly I was thrown for a rollercoaster because of the way Peter Morgan had set this up. I was looking forward to this season specifically for the Tampon Call. I know I’m a weirdo but honestly once I got my disgust out of the way when reading the transcript, I just realised exactly how hilarious a live reenactment could be. And oh boy, well read on to find out what happened. Heads up, half the time it was just me screeching not knowing where this episode would go tbh. Also there is a rare moment of me going Huh maybe Charles did some good,,, shocking I know but I can give credit where its due.

I knew it's a Charles centric ep and I'm looking forward to the Tampon call but still sighhh 50 mins of Charles ew

They're so bored of his whining lmaooo They're just being polite Chucky

APB is so done with his shit lmao

Also omg is this it IT'S THE CALL?? I WON OMG Wait why are we going wide Peter No Peter show meee the bit PETER MORGAN I WANNA SEE THE EXACT LINES PLAYED OUT COME ON

Oh??? We see it from the eavesdropper’s pov?? Oh dammit lowkey wanted to see C&C's faces This set up is wayyy too long Mister Peter Morgan

OH THERE WE GO DHKSJDKD THEY DID NOT PAUSE IT BEFORE THE GOOD BIT HOHOHO THERE WE GO Damn the way Peter Morgan teased me NOOOO PETER YOU DID NOT BLUEBALL ME I WANTED TO HEAR DOMINIC SAY THE WORDS AND LAUGH AT HIMMM

Well that was disappointing NO NOT THREE YEARS LATER 🤡 I should not be this disappointed he didn't say the line SIGH I know I know I'm a weirdo for wanting that bit re-enacted live but COME ON GUYS THE COMEDY OF IT ALL it would have been h i l a r i o u s Instead we got his boring ass speech that the kids at Oxford probably fell asleep to.

But yay Diana is freee and they're divorcing Awww poor Di I wanna hug her

Not a whole taskforce to safeguard the monarchy in changing world dhdkkd Just be human and less stuffy lmao Also I'm SHOOK at how similar the new Camilla looks to the actual Camilla, the resemblance is uncanny

Charles having liberal ideas whattttt Are these actually his policies??? Well they did allow Charlotte to assume her current succession position He's so progressive in this meeting and yet couldn't handle sharing the spotlight with his wife 🤡 make it make sense

OOOP HE DIDN'T BRING UP THE POLL BRO YOUR MOM IS RIGHT THERE DHDKJDKD

Also dunno WHAT Chucky was worried about this. This episode makes him look good! And Peter could have easily added in the Tampon bit of the call and embarrassed him further

I need to look into these policies if they're true or not if he did believe in this and if it is then good for him but I can respect his policies while being disgusted at the way he treated Diana and later Harry and Megs.

"It was a different Charles today" Lmao yes indeed it was Lizzie this man surprised me You're right Lizzie THAT'S WHAT THE PEOPLE WANT Oh shut up Phillip you outdated dinosaur

I know its his episode but there's too much Charles in this I would find it more tolerable if we had gotten the tampon line but it is what it is

Oopp his secretary got the news He doesn't remember the call 🤡🤡 OHMYGOD MORE PHONE CALL FLASHBACKS AM I GETTING THE LINE?? PETER MORGAN DON'T THREATEN ME WITH A GOOD TIME GAJSHJS NOT THEM BEING HORNY TEENAGERS

BROOOO AM I GETTING THE LINE IT'S SO CLOSE SCREAMINGGGG IT'S HAPPENING I WANNA VOMIT AND LAUGH AT THE SAME TIME Alll the ladies in his family reading it in the paper omgggg I'd be mortified

YE S PETER MORGAN YOU DIDN'T LET ME DOWN YALL IF YOU COULD H E A R THE PURE JOY FROM MY LAUGHTER RIGHT NOW

This IS hilarious I told yall the comedy of it all would be iconic as disgusting as the lines are The completely serious way Dominic and Olivia play this is brilliant it makes it EVEN funnier I just really wanna thank them for doing this when Josh O'Connor didn't want to bsjjdkd (like I get it Josh but you and Emerald would have KILLED IT)

HE SAID IT HE SAID HE WANTED TO BE THE TAMPAX AND BE FLUSHED DOWN THE TOLIET I'M CACKLING She's so right HE IS A COMPLETE IDIOT DHDJJD

Everyone's mortified reaction to it IS THE BEST Peter Morgan I LOVE YOU

Also WAIT THIS IS THE ARTICLE THAT PROMPTS THE REVENGE DRESS RIGHT FUCK YES I'M GETTING IT ALL IN THIS EP

I WISH YOU WERE PRESSING MY TIT LMAO Chucky BE SERIOUS

Oh gosh Diana this must be so humiliating for her too my poor babeyyy Go on baby go wear THAT DRESS

Lmaoo all the reports I'm cackling this should be fun to see how they navigate this "An assassination" BITCH YOU SAID IT no one is assassinating your character lol be serious TELL HIM ANNE He did bring alot of problems on himself

Okay I will say as funny as the live reenactment was, it's not nice that his privacy was invaded but by god is what he said was funny af Like boi time to sharpen up your dirty talk skills

Ahhahahah Anne's reaction lmao don't wax poetry about this. Drag him some more please that's what sisters are for. That was a sweet moment but they don't have the easy sibling chemistry Josh and Erin had in the last two seasons

PHILLIP NO DHDKSJ NOT ADMIRATION OH HSJSJJS HE'S RIGHT THE LECTURE IS SO FUNNY PLS Hey let him speak Welsh! Lmaooo Edward is so awkward pls it's like he's on the Office with all the looks he gives

Not them starting the PR redemption arc for him This should be fun, spoiler alert; It's gonna be dull as hell

Lmaooo it IS puffery and chocolate box rn though What is this documentary it's so funny pls Dominic sounds so much like him I'm shook and impressed Mans seems so inclusive,,, I don't believe it not after what happened with H&M

Oop Dimbley dropped the marriage question Damn he did not pull back the punches Charles' answer should be fun That's the most bullshit cop out answer ever lmao

God what a spineless little shit "Friendships" K buddy k "Forthright and honest in your response" AS IF SHDJKD

APB is DONE Mans is YEETED

Have you changed tho Chucky HAVE YOU?? Not from where I was sitting since 2017 Not the dwindling cheering crowds for him I'm laughing what is this

YES DI WEAR THE HELL OUT OF THAT REVENGE DRESS HONEY YESSSS THE REVENGE DRESS GOD IT LOOKS WONDERFUL!

"The Crown itself is a unifying symbol" Lizzie please you mean it's a colonising symbol that forced everyone together under your rule without their consent

Not him doing a book Yes Anne tell him He can be so delusional I swear Him and his gardens 😂😂

Okay I am warming up to this version's dynamic of Charles and Anne The cast chemistry is just a little bit off this season I can't place my finger on it. It's not bad but just not as strong as S4's chemistry. Which I get - it's all of their first time together as a cast so they need more time to get used to each other

Anne being the family tea spiller and informant always gets me - its so amusing Her defence of her brother is very sweet but she feels like she has gone soft Ik ik he needs someone in his corner I just like it when she's sardonic it's amusing

OH that's his court lmao I was like Is he tutoring some Uni kids?? Good to know I wonder if these same people still stayed on with him til now that he's reigning?

The way the audience looks so bored and unimpressed I'm cackling OHMYGOD CHARLES DID NOT JUST COMPARE HIS SHIT TO BEING RACIALLY MAGINALISED Bro what the fuck is wrong with you You're a rich, privileged, white straight cis man. You do not know how they feel or go through on a daily basis AT ALL This engagement is so painful to watch it feels very cold djdkrk

Okay I will admit irl he did good work with the Prince's Trust which just boggles my mind with how everything with the Sussexes was handled. Like bro the call is coming from inside the house why aren't you helping to fix it??

HE'S BREAKDANCING OMG I'M CACKLING

Well this episode was a rollercoaster but I was entertained for most of it!

#The Crown #The Crown Season 5 #The Crown Spoilers

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dont-be-so-shy · 3 years ago

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birthday gifts

notes: 7k jaytim reverse robins oneshot

Jason Todd is turning fourteen in half an hour when he comes down to the Batcave that night. He’d spent the day with Dickie, B, Alfie, and a few of his other friends before B had left early to go and kill some crime. Dick had gone home to Blüdhaven a half hour ago and Alfie was either puttering about upstairs or sleeping.

He steps into the Cave and instantly spots a silhouette, a tall lanky person dressed in a jacket and boots with a helmet under their arm. The Red Hood steps out the shadows of The Case. This is the first time Jason’s seen him up close. Black body armor cover his torso, he’s also wearing thin, insulated black combat pants, black combat boots made for both stealth and to break people’s tibia’s, and a black leather jacket with a blood stain near the hip, the sleeves decorated in patches: Robin’s R, Batman’s B, a purple Batgirl insignia, and one of a purple alien’s face which he immediately knows is in reference to Oracle. And of course, the telltale dark red helmet underneath his arm.

Timothy Drake, the dead Robin, smiles at him from the shadows of the uniform he wore as he died. “Robin.”

Jason’s fingers clench and he can barely keep himself from stumbling back. “Red Hood.”

Tim, maskless, steps closer, and Jason sees that his eyes are teal𑁋a mix of baby blue and poison green. (Tim’s eyes are supposed to be sky blue.)

“Batman𑁋Bruce𑁋everyone said you were dead.” He stutters. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. The dead Robin, grieved by so many, a crime lord? Does he yell for help, fight him, say hi? Is this even Tim or another one of Clayface’s tricks?

“I was.” Tim says calmly, and that’s one point for Really Tim𑁋supposedly he was always zen, calm, in control no matter what. Jason aspires to be like Tim mostly because sometimes (usually in the months of April and July) Bruce looks at him differently𑁋like he’s expecting something else, and he feels… upset. “Not anymore.”

“Okay…” Jason says. It doesn’t matter what’s going on; he finds he doesn’t want Tim to leave. Then he realizes how weird that would sound if he said it out loud: finding comfort in a dead boy he’s never even met but has always been in the shadow of? He blushes and his head ducks on instinct. (Hide your tears, hide your eyes, hide your face. Don’t make them want to hunt.)

Tim steps forward, and when Jason doesn’t move back, places a folder he withdraws from his jacket into his hand. Tim tilts his head to the left, eyes curious and more blue than green, and he says, “What are you thinking?”

Jason, with all his experience with crushes (one slightly strange and very short-lived crush on Damian, another on Eddie Bloomberg, who’s dead, one on Rose Wilson, and the last on Donna Troy and Diana Prince simultaneously𑁋God, that was weird) and relationships (nil), says with all of his tact, “I’m thinking that I’m really hoping it’s really you because I’ve been dreaming about meeting you since I got here.”

Then he realizes what he just said𑁋word-vomited𑁋and blushes again, harder this time. He hears a soft and not-mocking laugh and sees Tim’s warm blue eyes before Tim’s leaning in and placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “You’re cute.”

Jason thinks he should probably accept Duke’s offer of teaching him how not to blush because he really didn’t think he was capable of being this prickly-hot ever.

Tim turns and slides into the shadows𑁋Jason really needs to learn how to do that𑁋and twenty seconds later, there’s the sound of a Bat-engine huffing quietly into the Cave. Jason turns around abruptly, not stopping to see who it is, stuffs the file up his loose and faded Blüdhaven Bloodhounds T-shirt and runs up the stairs, hearing Bruce’s confused, “Jason?” and stumbling over, “No, I’m fine.”

Tim’s gift folder turns out to be a list of Black Mask’s drug running locations, codes, and runners, because Tim is𑁋supposed to be𑁋a perfectionist like that.

It’s a week until he sees Tim again, at a family dinner slash meeting. Basically, everyone shows up, they eat, they talk about normal family stuff𑁋he guesses, this is the first normal family he’s been in and Batman and his brood aren’t exactly normal𑁋and if anyone wants a consult on one of their cases, they’ll spread the pages of information across a cleared area of the humongously long dining table and everyone will take turns pitching in.

Jason likes these dinners because he gets to see everyone and Bruce is always wearing this proud Papa Bear smile and Duke and Cass always gang up on him to ruffle his hair and hug him hard enough he squawks, and Bruce lets Jason read his books under the table during dinner like he almost never lets him when it’s just them two of them and Alfred and Steph always sneaks Jason extra ice cream because Bruce always buys neapolitan but Alfred keeps enforcing the two-scoops-per-person rule until, halfway through, he eventually just sits back, amused.

Alfred and Damian have taken to opening the Wayne’s fan mail during these dinners while Duke explains the intricacies of the case he’s working on in Opal City involving prostitutes, drug runners, and traffickers and how he should approach the situation𑁋undercover op and risk losing the tail he has on a separate gunrunning gang or a more typical approach but taking on two heavy cases at once?

Steph’s just started recommending Duke team up with Vixen or Arsenal when Alfred’s voice wavers, “Master Bruce?”

The whole table quiets. This is family dinner night. There are no emergencies on family dinner night. Damian stands and hands a multi-page letter to Bruce and Duke slides out of his seat almost directly under the chandelier to read over Bruce’s shoulder. The two’s faces progressively drop more and more into Bat as they read the letter and Jason’s starting to get a bad feeling about this. Steph’s accessing the security camera above Bruce’s shoulder from her favorite Bat-tablet and Alfred is leaning into Cass’ shoulder, whose gaze is analyzing the windows and other points of entry warily.

Duke inhales shakily. “It says… It says that recently the League of Assassins revived someone using the Lazarus Pit. The Red Hood.” As soon as the word ‘League’ comes out of Duke’s mouth, Jason’s fingers are twitching again, itching to scar the palms of his hands like they always do when he’s anxious. “There’s a picture of𑁋Steph, can you pull up the cemetery, please?𑁋It says Tim’s the Red Hood.”

Nobody visibly reacts at the words and Steph’s purple hologram shows the Wayne’s plot of land in Gotham’s biggest and most popular cemetery. She types in a command and the picture zooms in on Tim’s grave.

Timothy Jackson Drake July 19𑁋April 27 Son, Friend, Hero “If Gotham needs a hero, I have to provide.”

A small bat is carved into the lower left corner, barely covered by grass. There are fresh flowers on the grave𑁋Jason thinks Cass, Duke, or Damian must have put them there. Duke and Damian always try to visit Tim’s grave on their way in or out of town. Jason recognizes water lilies, which means Damian. Cass uses roses and Duke honeysuckle. In flower language, water lilies mean rebirth and innocence and honeysuckle means happiness and affection. He doesn’t think they know that, Damian in particular.

There’s a knock on the door and everyone jumps. Alfred goes to answer it as he always does, but this time Cass follows and Steph pulls up the live camera footage of the front steps. A male-looking figure with black hair is on the front stoop, holding a bouquet of daffodils and lilacs. Rebirth and unconditional love. Whoever it is𑁋Tim, his mind screams𑁋is wearing a shrunk-in-the-wash too-small blue and yellow sweatshirt and dark blue skinny jeans with black boots. Steph switches the feed to the foyer. Alfred opens the door and it is Tim’s face that looks back at them, poison𑁋Lazarus𑁋green almost nonexistent in his eyes, face slightly scared, and bouquet outstretched.

“Hi.” Tim says on camera, reaches into his coat and grabs a paperclipped stack of paper, the first page being blood charts and DNA tests before Cass is grabbing him in a tight hug and, in the dining room, Duke, Bruce, and Damian are launching towards the door, Bruce moving as fast as his broken fibula will let him. Steph is speeding in her chair and Jason can feel his cheeks strain; he realizes he’s grinning too wide.

Alive𑁋alive, alive, alive. Tim Drake is really, truly, well and alive.

Bruce and Alfred are crying over Tim, who’s trying to hide his smile in his scarf, then it’s Duke and Damian, Damian cradling his head and whispering an Arabic dialect Jason has yet to learn, then it’s Steph and Cass, both holding as close as physically possible, holding him like they want to crawl into his skin and live with him, then he’s moving forward before Cass and Steph are even off him.

He pauses when he realizes he doesn’t know what to do. Why would he cry and hug and say ‘It’s you, it’s really you, you ass’ to a dead boy he’s never met, or spoken to in any meaningful manner?

Tim’s hands are reaching and wrapping around his shoulders and wow, Jason’s just realizing that even though he’s small for his age, three inches too short, only five feet tall but still only five or so inches shorter than Tim, who should be𑁋how old is he? Seventeen𑁋at least an inch taller.

As Tim hugs him and cradles the back of his head, Steph is selfish and keeps her arms wrapped around Tim’s hips but one of Cass’ hands land in his hair. Then he feels soft pressure and warmth along his back𑁋Duke, another hand settle on his shoulder𑁋Damian, soft sobs and even more warmth to contradict the cool breeze coming from outside through the open door his bare ankles aren’t liking𑁋Bruce, a trembling hand on his back𑁋Alfred. Then Tim’s shaking, moving his shoulders in deliberate movements, stepping back from the tight and warm embrace with big eyes. Tim whispers, “Coffin. Claustrophobia. Pit. Thermophobia. Sorry.”

They move the sitting room. Steph refuses to let go of Tim’s hand, Alfred grips his forearm from his spot next to him, Bruce sits cross-legged on the floor in front of him and Duke rests his chin on one of Steph’s knees. Tim strips of his sweatshirt in the warm room with the burning fireplace𑁋where they usually play Clue after family dinner nights and where Bruce reads Jason Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes books on nights they’re alone𑁋leaving him in a thin and pale gray sweater with a graphic of a Minecraft zombie on it and showing off an old, stained bandage on his wrist.

Tim’s knuckles are bruised to hell and back but there are no scars on his hands like there were in the pictures, no burn scar on the back of his neck, no scar just under the plump part of his lower lip. The Lazarus Pit’s healing capabilities are god-tier but Ra’s al Ghul is a myth as much as he is a legend and Jason never thought he’d be witness to this. Tim meets his eyes from where he’s been looking on softly at Alfred and Jason realizes he’s been staring at Tim’s lips for entirely too long. Tim’s eyes turn amused yet gentle in a way that reminds of that day in the Cave and of the summer sun in San Fran, only for Jason to realize with a start that Tim’s eyes are almost entirely the captivating ice blue they were fabled to be, poison green leached out almost completely.

Tim and Jason don’t speak again𑁋well, look heavily at each other𑁋until later that night, at around midnight. It’s a family dinner night, not a patrol night, so Jason was supposed to be in bed an hour ago but exceptions can be made for newly-resurrected family members. No one even mentions Jason’s bedroom until he starts to leave the kitchen𑁋where they’ve relocated𑁋to head to bed. Jason’s known Tim was alive for a week even though part of him wondered if it was a hallucination or a trick and he has an English test tomorrow. He really likes Mr. Lakely.

Jason leaves his door open, like you do as an ‘okay, you can creepily sneak into my room in the middle of the night and cuddle me’ that Duke started back when he was Batman’s only protege. His covers are handmade by Alfred, given to him for his second Christmas at the manor, which means they’re extra warm, thick, and soft. They’re weighted too, because Alfred is a godsend who’s used to knowing people who want only one blanket but a heavy one. Jason’s not like that. Cold winters in the East End make him sleep with three blankets, one weighted, and two pillows. Also, Sparky the stuffed dog because he’s sentimental.

Jason’s eyes are half-lidded and close to sliding shut when Cass and Tim come into his room. Cass double-checks the locks on his windows as Tim sits in a big plush blue armchair stained with ink that only Bruce uses, when he reads to Jason while he’s sick.

Cass leaves and shuts the door behind her and he can hear the scraping of the I’m Not Mad At You sign against the door but he forgets about everything except Tim when Tim leans forward and rests his forehead on Jason’s forearm, one hand gripping his.

Tim looks up at him but his gaze stays on his cheeks, right where Jason’s blush is. It only makes him blush harder.

“Hey,” Tim says.

“Hey,” Jason whispers back.

“I’ve got a surprise for you. Two.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Tim pulls out a collapsible bo staff from the pocket of his sweatshirt, which he’s put back on sometime during the night.

“It’s a bo. Chinese, traditional but also new and improved. I designed it myself.” Jason nearly breaks his cheeks smiling and Tim smiles back, soft but his eyes are warm enough to light fires. Jason’s happy to see that Tim’s eyes are no less blue than they were at the beginning of the night.

Jason taps ‘thank you’ and ‘I love it’ against Tim’s bare forearms where his sleeves are rolled up and says aloud, “And the second?”

“Close your eyes.” It takes a second, maybe four, but Tim’s lips, chapped and dry but also warm, press against his eyelids, one by one.

“Thank you.” Tim breathes against his skin.

“For what?” Jason asks, slowly opening his eyes, eyelids feeling stuck𑁋glued shut.

“For helping Bruce. For becoming Robin.” Tim’s still whispering even though Jason knows that he knows full well they wouldn’t be disturbing anyone, and Jason feels like maybe he shouldn’t be feeling so warm at the thought of a secret.

“Batman needs Robin.” Tim whispers throatily against Jason’s shoulder, which is bare except for the strap of a red tank top.

“Yeah.” Jason whispers, knows he’s staring at Tim’s hair𑁋black and silky with a white streak slicing through it𑁋entirely too obviously to be utilizing literally any of his Bat training. “Yeah, okay.”

Jason can’t remember how or when he falls asleep. In fact, he can’t remember anything past Tim’s warm lips on his shoulder and an indistinguishable whisper𑁋Tim’s rough scream-hoarse voice and how it felt vibrating quietly against his throat.

He wakes up because one of the sun’s beams is shining into his eye uncomfortably, then he realizes it was actually probably the numerous Bat(-human hybrids, chants Steph in his mind)s surrounding him. Bruce is sitting in the armchair Tim sat in last night, Duke perched on the armrest. Cass and Damian are sitting by his Favorite Book bookshelf and the door to his library and Steph is closer to the windows, wheelchair in the middle of his carpeted floor.

Jason panics when the thought crosses his mind that they might be interrogating him𑁋wondering where Tim went, before he realizes that the warmth on his right side is not the sun. It’s Tim, still wearing his sweatshirt, jeans, and colored pastel bobby pins, which has got to be uncomfortable. Then he has to try to wrestle his blush down because it’s Tim’s breath he feels against his neck and shoulder, Tim’s hair tickling his cheek, Tim’s legs lying over his, the blankets Alfred made between them and his.

Jason brings his arm up from under his blankets to land haphazardly on Tim’s face, swatting at his cheek and pulling at his hair until Tim’s eyes blink open, a vague mix of blue and green that makes Jason want to swoon like one of his favorite classic novel female protagonists.

Then he remembers he’s lying on a bed with a boy he’s never met cuddling him, his entire family surrounding and watching him. The swoon dies a sudden and painful death, much like how Icarus flew then dropped. ‘Death to you and death to you and death to all of you!’ He imagines Oprah yelling gleefully as he sits up in bed, letting the blankets pool to his hips. “...Good morning?”

Beside him, Tim sits up, leaving the bed and moving towards Jason’s mirror, pulling bobby pins out of his hair.

“Good morning, boys.” Bruce says pleasantly, and he can tell B is feeling very amused right now but his lapis lazuli blue eyes are still watery. Is it normal to cry for eight hours straight? Jason’s not sure he can get a good answer to that question, since the only person he knows who’s died and come back is Superman and he’s basically a god.

Duke starts up conversation with Cass and it becomes clear that his family is here for Tim𑁋that they want to be in the same space as him as much as he does, maybe more. He grabs some random clothes from his top dresser and locks himself in the bathroom, the click of the lock giving him a feeling of privacy even though he knows his lock is no match for anyone’s lockpicking skills.

Over the next few months, Tim settles in their family. He’s the Red Hood, fearless and manipulative Gotham crime lord, but he’s also Tim, who’s smart and strong and non-judgmental to everyone despite their past or background.

When Jason tells Tim about his past in the East End with his mom and Willis and the things he did to stay alive, Tim just smiles sadly and tells him he’s sorry about his pain but not sorry he met Jason. Jason… understands and smiles painfully back.

Over the next few months, life continues and Tim’s there for him even when he’s not physically there. Kon, one of Jason’s closest friends, is killed by Superboy-Prime during the heroes' clash against the Secret Society of Supervillains. Tim holds him and presses kisses to his hair while he cries in the Batplane, Tim comes with him to the memorial for Superboy in Metropolis, and Tim leaves tulips𑁋Kon’s favorite𑁋on Kon’s grave with him. Tim fights against the Society in the Battle of Metropolis with him. After that, he learns Blüdhaven is blown up and radioactive. Dick, Jason, and Bruce go on a two-month-long sabbatical, returning in time for his sophomore year at Gotham Heights High.

(For his fifteenth birthday, Tim sneaks into his room in Titans Tower after his party𑁋Jason had a party the past weekend with his family in the manor𑁋and holds him in bed. He wakes up in his dark room in the middle of the night to Tim’s lips on his temple. Jason keens in the back of his throat and grips Tim’s bicep when he tries to leave. Tim smiles at him𑁋softly, the way Jason only sees him smile when he’s talking to him and isn’t that just an immense ego boost𑁋and stays the night. Jason deals with Kori’s proud smile and Gar’s catcalls as they all try to pretend they’re not grieving Kon so badly they feel like their hearts might burst.)

Tim joins Dick in New York and they work together for a few months, before Tim flies out to California to visit Connor Hawke in Star City for another three months. He comes home for Christmas.

(For Christmas, Jason sneaks into Tim’s new room𑁋his old one remains untouched by anyone except Damian, Alfred, and Jason𑁋and lies with him. Tim keeps his room cold but doesn’t use any blankets. With Tim, phobias are complicated. Claustrophobia makes him not like the weight of blankets against his skin. Tim fears the Joker as much as he’s angry at him. Tim hates the cold and closed, tight spaces. Tim hates hot tubs and pools and hates warm open spaces when it’s humid enough to feel the warmth under his skin. Tim runs a little hot so his lips are always warm when they press against Jason’s skin but Tim gets cold really easily and likes wrapping himself up in layers. Tim hates fireplaces and occasionally has a panic attack at the thought of cooked meat and Tim refuses to eat Asian takeout sometimes. One time Jason went to Tibet for a Robin mission with Cass and Tim didn’t leave his bed for days. Jason forgets about how he fears Tim might leave him, stop wrapping him in kind, gentle affection if he fails when Tim presses his face against Jason’s neck and holds him and only falls asleep when Jason reads Pride & Prejudice to him aloud.)

After Christmas, Tim drops off the face of the earth for three weeks and Jason fucks up badly enough to get his arm broken by Scarecrow. Tim comes back a week into Jason’s recovery. His eyes are closed off, and slightly more green than Jason is used to seeing, and his shoulders are stiff enough to make some old priests at the cathedral Jason used to go to proud. Tim doesn’t speak as he climbs into Jason’s bed, carefully avoiding his bandaged arm, but Jason wakes in the middle of the night to tears on his not-injured arm. When Bruce comes into his room at dawn, just in from a long, grueling patrol as a way to punish himself for Jason’s injury despite it not being his fault, Tim launches himself at him and startles him so much they fall to the floor in embrace.

It turns out Tim got stuck in an alternate universe𑁋Earth-51, to be exact𑁋where Jason’s not there and B chose lethal violence after Tim’s death. Tim talks, and he tells them, and Alfred, that he’d felt vindicated but also sick to his stomach.

In between Tim and Jason’s adventures with dead friends and killer dads, Jason starts his junior year at Gotham Heights High, the school Tim went to (Dick went to Gotham City High) and died at the end of the year of. Tim adopts the name Tim Head𑁋stolen from Talia al Ghul𑁋to attend Gotham University and starts studying computer science.

When Jason gets all A’s and B’s on his report card, Tim takes him and Cass (who just graduated Grieve High, where there was a shootout that scared the crap out of Jason and outed the Bats’ existence to the world) out to Gotham’s only mall, the Silver Lake Plaza in Coventry.

Tim gets a second tattoo (his first being a dragon wrapping around his right bicep) of a pair of crossed swords on his clavicle. Cass gets a dye job that turns the tips of her short hair red, and Jason gets his ears pierced. The whole thing takes eight hours because, in between, they window-shop and extort the food court and have a photo shoot for Cass in the department store section. Tim gives Jason his leather jacket and never asks for it back.

…And Jason starts wearing it with everything because he’s just that kind of sap. He loves the jacket, black with golden stitches and the vigilante patches on the right sleeve and the roses that line the hips-side to try and hide the bloodstains.

The day after he auditions for Puck in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Tim and Damian pick him up in Damian’s Porsche. April 28th, the day after Tim’s death day (Jason always stays home on that day), Tim picks him up with an amused smirk𑁋probably because he’s doing nothing to hide the fact that he’s the newest thing at this school since Callie Evans dyed her hair and joined the basketball team. Tim’s wearing a red and black long-sleeve turtleneck shirt with black leggings and the same black boots he wore the night he came out as alive to the family, silver hoop earrings all over his ears and a new one on his lip. Jason knows he got it for an undercover op in Star City but still looks hot as hell, and leaning against his daytime motorcycle, dark blue and sleek as hell because even his daytime shit is better than most people’s, Tim looks so god-like it makes him blush.

Jason laughs delightedly when Tim takes him to Grant Park where there’s a showing of Macbeth and kisses him on the cheek when Tim buys him neapolitan from a nearby vendor, tipping nearly fifty bucks. Tim smiles down at him, eyes clear blue.

The only thing is… Jason’s sixteen now, and Tim nineteen. There’s no reason they shouldn't start dating, doing more, touching more.

They’ve been… entangled for years by now, but they haven’t even kissed.

Jason brings it up when they’re watching Quentin Tarantino’s movies in Tim’s favorite hideout, the old, decrepit Monarch Theater in Crime Alley.

“Why won’t you kiss me?” Tim doesn’t pause the movie, or visibly react at all but Jason has his head on his shoulder and his hand on Tim’s wrist, so he feels Tim’s pulse jump.

“I…” Tim wets his lip and swallows roughly, the hand in Jason’s moving to interlock their fingers. “I can, if you want me to. I just… I’m older and we’re𑁋complicated, and truth to be told, I’m worried you’ll. I dunno. Something.”

Jason moves onto his knees on the couch, staring Tim in his blue-green eyes and ignoring the movie still playing behind him.

“Tim.” He starts and his voice is a whisper, “I love you.”

His voice clears. “I really, really love you. And I think you do too. And I want you to kiss me. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. But if you do, please, please kiss me.”

Tim stares, then smiles and leans into the hand Jason’s put on his cheek. “I love you too. You knew that already.”

“I did.” Jason’s whispering again, voice too delicate to speak any louder.

“Okay.” Tim says. “Okay.”

Jason sits in Tim’s lap and turns to watch the rest of the movie. By the time Jason has to go back to manor, Steph outside to pick him up, they’ve eaten all their sour gummy worms and Jason’s started chewing gum.

He throws it out when it loses flavor and after he gets packed up, Tim pulls him closer by his shirt and his wrist, and presses his soft, warm lips to Jason’s. The kiss is gentle but fiery and Jason gasps when Tim’s hands fall to his hips and he runs his thumbs along the skin under his shirt. They split; Jason smiles into Tim’s shoulder. Jason leaves the theater with kiss-swollen lips and a blinding smile and Steph catcalls as he gets in the self-driving car.

After that, it gets easier. When Tim picks Jason up from school and takes him to Caroline's Diner, they hold hands. When Tim wakes up screaming, Jason turns on all the lights in his room and holds Tim close and kisses all of Tim’s freckles. When Tim and Jason say hello and goodbye, they press their lips together and Jason opens up before Tim and pushes back into Tim and he always feels prickly hot when they make out because when they make out he wants to crawl into Tim’s skin, and wear it and feel it and have it around him𑁋be it𑁋all day.

At this point, it’s a schedule. Thursday nights, Jason and Tim walk into the theater. Jason methodically strips off and folds his leather jacket, letting it catch on the skull rings Damian gave him for his birthday as a gift. He climbs into Tim’s lap, straddles his thighs, and they kiss, slow and long like nothing Jason’s ever known with Cassie or Ariana or Anita or anyone of the others.

Jason spends his early summer in California. It’s not exactly happy, not really, because Bart’s an adult now and he and Cassie are still grieving Kon. Cass gets kidnapped and disappears for five days. They find her in Malaysia and wreak havoc on the Kobra Cult that kidnapped her. Jason and Tim are the ones who find the leader, and they don’t hurt him too bad because it turns out they’ve both met Danny Temple and like him a whole lot.

Tim turns 20 and everyone drinks at his party even though Jason, the youngest, is still sixteen and Tim’s not even legal drinking age yet. Tim’s been drinking since he left catatonia behind and met Talia al Ghul and Jason’s been sneaking champagne at galas with Damian’s help since he got adopted.

Bruce adopts a ten-year-old boy named Dick Grayson and nobody can really blame him because Haly’s Circus was intended to be a short family outing, which means everyone was there. Dick finds out soon enough and even though Jason likes Dick well enough, but he’s still worried about Cassie who doesn’t seem to be getting better, and planning for his seventeenth birthday.

Two days before Jason’s seventeenth birthday and three days after Steph’s 21st, Bruce gets killed. For Jason, it’s the last straw. Sure, he has Tim and Cassie and Damian, but he’s just lost so many people. Kon is dead, Bart is dead, and Bruce? He wants to scream at the sky and demand they give B back to him. He settles for screaming at Damian instead. Damian is prickly and feeling violent and their scream-and-blame fest ends with Jason in the medbay for his sprained wrist and broken nose.

Jason stays at Tim’s that night. Tim’s not home. Duke has locked himself in his apartment in Opal City and no one’s heard from him since the funeral. Damian hasn’t left the Cave in forever. Steph has poured herself into her Birds and Cass moved permanently to Hong Kong. Dick didn’t know Bruce that well, doesn’t know how to grieve again so soon after losing his parents, so he’s settled for being extra happy, as if that will help.

Jason’s birthday is forgotten, Damian puts on the cowl, and Tim is still gone.

It’s 4 AM in the morning, 2 weeks after… B, and Jason is curled up in the center of Tim’s king-size bed when he hears the sound of a door opening and closing. His hand closes on a gun he stole from a mugger two days ago. The bedroom door slides more open from its cracked-open position and it’s… Tim who slips in. He looks exhausted, with designer eyebags and his long hair unwashed and tangled.

“Jay?” When he speaks to him, his voice is hoarse and Jason knows he’s been having night terrors and cigarettes and not drinking his soothing tea. Jason knows because he hasn’t been either.

“Tim.” He says and he can see scratches on Tim’s arms and splotches of blood through his gray sweater tee. He moves on autopilot, something he finds himself doing more and more since B is losing himself in his own head, and when he comes back to himself, he’s curled around Tim and back in bed.

Tim is shivering and Jason can feel the wet spot of his blood on his shirt with his fingers but Tim doesn’t ask for bandages and Jason can’t bring himself to move. Jason doesn’t know where Tim has been, what he’s been doing, and he knows he should be mad. He’s not though. Not yet at least. Not while Tim is shivering, while Jason can feel Tim’s blood on his hands, not while Jason can feel drops falling from Tim’s eyes to his palm.

The next day, Jason wakes up to the smell of coffee and buckwheat pancakes. When he walks out of Tim’s room to his kitchen, Tim is at the stove flipping some, humming along to The Clash. Jason smiles a bit as he presses himself against Tim’s back, hands on his hips and lightly grazing his lips over the back of his neck. Jason sits on Tim’s brown leather barstools and buries his face into the crooks of his elbows.

The sound of ceramic against wood makes Jason look up to the plate Tim has set on the counter, two pancakes slathered with melting butter. Tim’s back is to him again so Jason doesn’t grab his plate, just watches Tim work. He’s changed out of his blood-stained sweater shirt, which reminds Jason that he should probably wash his hands again, seeing as a light dusting of red still coats his inner wrists. Tim has put on one of Jason’s butter yellow sweatshirts, one of Cass’ neon yellow and dark gray sweatpants, and Steph’s fuzzy rabbit socks are high on his ankles.

Jason smiles at the ridiculousness of the entire ensemble and that’s the expression that makes Tim smile back at him when he turns around with his plate of pancakes, these ones drowned in maple syrup and sliced strawberries.

Tim reaches out and pulls Jason’s plate closer to him on the countertop and Jay takes the opportunity to rest his hand on Tim’s elbow. Tim’s arm slides from his until they’re interlocking fingers. Tim eventually pulls his hand away to eat𑁋left-handed that he is, just like Jason𑁋and Jason’s hand lands in his hair.

Soon, they’ve moved to the couch in the living room. Jason is curled up into the armrest, Tim is curled up into him. Jason’s eating with one hand, the other hand running through Tim’s now washed hair from where his arm is curled around Tim’s shoulders.

They haven’t said a word to each other all morning.

Lounging on the couch is a perfectly good plan in Jason’s opinion, seeing as he hasn’t seen his boyfriend in forever but Tim’s face is changing into his business face and his hand is reaching for his Bat-tablet, so Jason kisses morning cuddles and a lazy day goodbye.

On the screen of Tim’s favorite Bat-tech tablets, there is a picture of an old portrait hanging in Wayne Manor. The inscription reads ‘Mordecai Wayne’.

“It’s Bruce.” Tim says, and Jason stares at him, askance.

“Uh… Tim?” He says, hoping the confusion in his voice will ask the questions his words can’t.

“It’s Bruce.” Tim says again, swallowing nervously and glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. He launches into an explanation about his theory on time travel and Darkseid’s Omega beams and Gotham and the Wayne family’s history. Half of what Tim’s saying makes almost no sense to Jason𑁋time travel shenanigans, ugh𑁋but enough of it makes sense that Tim’s theory seems actually plausible.

Jason curls tighter around Tim and starts speaking quietly into his ear. Together, they form a plan.

Two days later, they’re ready. Jason and Tim have their bags packed, their fake passports ready, and their plan made. They’re first flying to Madrid on one of Tim’s hunches. Damian chose Dick to be his Robin, which disappointed the both of them immensely. Tim is still working as Red Hood, so Jason’s become Red Robin. Yes, he’s so creative, isn’t he? Supposedly, Red Robin is an identity Tim used while traveling interdimensionally to other Earths. The suit actually fits Jason fine, if a little small, since Jason is only three inches taller than Tim and they are about the same width.

In the car they’ve rented just for the occasion, Tim dresses as Al Draper and Jason becomes Peter Greenburg.

Once they’re off the plane in Spain𑁋such a long flight𑁋they change into Red Hood and Red Robin. When they reach one of B’s old safehouses, they change back into Tim and Jason.

Jason makes lemon tea with honey and they both curl up on the couch and watch the news. Tim is reading an article about Britney Spears on his WE tablet and Jason is scrolling through Instagram on his phone. It’s only 5 PM and their mission doesn’t start until sundown. It’s time for the retired Robins to go worldwide.

It’s three long and tiring months before Jason steps foot on Gotham soil𑁋hell, United States soil𑁋again. Damian activates his distress signal when news comes in from Hal Jordan (who is apparently a Green Lantern again? Jason doesn’t know, Lantern Corps events are too confusing) that Nekron has decided to activate the Black Lantern Power Core on Earth.

Or, in Steph’s very blunt and actually-make-sense words, “Basically Lantern villain is raising zombies. Don’t give in to them or they’ll kill you. Worldwide event. You know the drill.”

It turns out Nekron is raising only bad guys or people with emotional attachments to heroes, seeing as the GCPD headquarters, currently being defended by the Commish, Steph, and a new Batgirl he’s never met before except for once when he was 12, Barbara Gordon.

Later, while crawling through the sewers𑁋well, not really crawling but it feels just as gross𑁋they’re attacked by the reanimated corpses of Jack and Janet Drake (Tim’s parents), Catherine Todd and Sheila Haywood (Jason’s moms), Mary and John Grayson (Dick’s parents), Sarah Essen (the Commish’s wife) and David Cain (Cass’ dad). Well, they’re all being haunted by ghosts.

Jason is later enveloped in hugs by Kon, who he saw re-alive in Paris, Bart, who’s apparently alive𑁋why didn’t he know?, and Cassie. Jason is starting to feel more and more hopeful about his and Tim’s chances involving their Plan.

The hope blossoms into full-on conviction when Damian, Duke, Dick, and Alfred fly to London to put B’s body in a Pit. Tim is very against the plan and takes the opportunity to say ‘I told you so’ when it turns out the corpse is an insane doppelganger of B, not the real thing.

It’s another three months before Jason steps foot on America again. Seriously, he thinks Europe, Africa, and Asia are great and all and the sightseeing trips he and Tim took were amazing, but with Ra’s al Ghul on your tail it’s rather paranoia-inducing. Plus, there’s something about Gotham𑁋in her air, in his bones𑁋that raises his blood pressure, makes his eyes light up, makes him a little more energetic about things. Gotham is magic, but you can only feel it𑁋see it𑁋if you’re born in it.

It makes him think about the series he and Tim finished on their Eurotrip (or is it Brucequest?). BBC’s Merlin and two of the most powerful scenes: “I was born with it.”

About their… vacation, Jason should probably update his medical records, seeing as he’s now missing a spleen, Tim’s eyes are burning green, a month-long side effect of using the Lazarus Pit, and the two now have three assassin besties. How fun!

Their data helps Booster Gold and the newly-reformed Justice League save Bruce from self-implosion and everything is fine again. Jason cries for the first time since the desert in Baghdad (where he cradled Tim’s dead body and Pru held her neck shut as she drove) when B pulls him against him and presses kisses to every inch of his face.

It’s summer in Gotham again and Tim has just turned 21. Tim’s birthday party is just them, Damian, Duke, Cass, Connor Hawke, one of Tim’s new civilian university friends Sasha, and Roy Harper going out to a Star City nightclub and getting shit-faced, blackout drunk. Tim and Jason make out on the bed in their hotel room, and, from the sounds of it Connor and Cass are chaperoning Duke, who’s actually a sneaky, fun drunk, and Roy and Sasha have hooked up. Jason’s pretty sure he sees Black Canary but he’s not actually sure ‘cause, again, making out with his super-hot boyfriend here.

They do the same thing when Jason turns eighteen, except they celebrate in Gotham and B and Jason have a celebratory joint patrol taking down Professor Pyg beforehand.

There’s another multiversal event but Jason’s unconscious and kidnapped for most of it. Later, some magician visits Gotham and traps Tim in a mirror. After he gets out, Jason goes on a mission to space with his Titans that he’s co-leading with Cassie and Tim has somehow become good friends with Roy Harper and gotten pretty close to Starfire.

The first time Tim and Jason have sex, they’re both completely sober despite the lead-up being the Wayne’s famous New Years party at one of Lex Luthor’s hotels.

It takes another year, but Jason gets down on one knee in early April at Gotham’s Antiquities Museum, where Tim’s parents things are kept, bearing a ring𑁋specially-curated black silver with two rubies embedded in it.

The wedding is supposed to be in July in San Francisco, two weeks after Tim’s birthday, but it’s crashed by Deathstroke and a coterie of other villainous evil-doers. The Bats go on a purge patrol and the wedding is hosted by Gotham City, in October.

It’s beautiful. Tim wears a light gray suit with a dark red tie and pale red dress shirt. His hair is perfectly styled away from his face in a loose man bun, white streak shining in the light. He’s wearing silver earring studs and black lip gloss with sharp red eyeliner.

Jason is dressed in a traditional black suit and bow tie, curls brushed away from his face and pinned back with white silver bobby pins. He’s wearing small silver hoop earrings and his nails are painted dark blue. His lips are dark red and he’s wearing dark eyeshadow. The ring Tim insisted on buying him is a white silver band with two spinels inlaid in it. It’s absolutely gorgeous. They don’t read vows until they’re alone, back in their hotel in the city, in lieu of a real honeymoon. Tim reads him vows he wrote during their Eurotrip, when he first realized he wanted to marry him, and Jason reads him what he wrote back when he was fifteen, in awe𑁋he still is𑁋of the beautiful amazing man he loves to pieces.

They fly to Brazil for a mission and end up staying for a belated honeymoon trip. They feed each other strawberries and share champagne kisses that imprint of their tongues. They also go to the movies and order slushies that turn their mouths purple instead of blue and red and when they get back to Gotham, they visit the Plaza with Cass again.

At family dinner night, Damian invites Donna and Garth, Steph invites Dinah, and Cass invites Kara Kent𑁋who did they even meet?𑁋and Selina just shows up randomly so everyone’s here with their significant other.

And at the end of each and every night, usually sometime near dawn, Jason, freshly nineteen and just starting Gotham U, studying Literature and Social Work, lies in bed curled into Tim, who’s just started a job developing tech for the GCPD.

#daisy's drabbles #jaytim #reverse robins

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