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marlasomething · 2 years

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A Tight Weird Family 1: Martin

Last October I wrote a TMA fic and posted it on AO3. However, I know it is veeeery long and only two chapters so...I decided to repost it on Tumblr chopping it off per character.

I poured my heart into this tale that I wrote because TMA, as silly as it might perhaps sound, helped me to actually be FAR MORE BETTER now at all levels that I was before I discovered it and...I cannot be thankful enough.

This takes place in my main AO3 TMA AU universe, but can be read separately (just: they brought their consciences back in time and had created a completely alternative timeline, the Institute now also serve as a refuge for runnaway kids because I have issues and Gerry is alive because I love him too much).

This is dedicated to Nadia and Paloma, thank you for being there and indulging all my writing.

Characters in this chapter: Martin Blackwood

TW: negletful family, slight PTSD

Words: 1171

Next chapter: Georgie

Just, as usual, please forgive my non-native speaker and quick tipper mistakes! Allons-y! Marla

Martin fucking hated Christmas.

It wasn’t something he was prone to tell anyone out loud, but that didn’t mean that he did it with any less intensity. For him Christmas had always been this period of time of year when he had been more painfully conscious of how lonely he was, even when his father was still around.

Strike that; especially when his father was still around. After all, his mother might have been terrible to him, but at least she had acknowledged his presence without him having to actively pursue that objective for prolonged, tiring (many times unsuccessful) periods of time. And, then, there was the fact that the older Blackwood had told him about where Christmas presents really came from before he was even five…

…perfect plan for him not actually wanting Christmas presents, though. If you think it through, it had been a rather great money-saving strategy.

Even when he had been in a relationship by the time The Festive Season came around, they had still been the toughest days of the year, since the realisation that none of his partners through the years had chosen to pass even a few hours in the “festivities for family and friends” with him had never gotten any less hurtful. Not that any of those had been healthy relationships at any level, though.

And, then, the whole Archives-nightmare had begun and the concept of time and holidays had disappeared from his dictionary. He vaguely remembered some Christmas carols on the background while holding the hand of a comatose Jon, but he could perfectly have been imagining it. Sleep depravation had been another constant in those times.

However, even if it had been just as an automat that didn’t really understood what it was doing, he had spent every single Christmas Eve with his mother (with the exception of the aforementioned coma-year, of course).

Now, for once, his life had changed for good. Had he had to go through a literal Apocalypse for it? Yes. (Apocalypse that, worth mentioning, in other reality, to a different him, was still happening).

Had he kind of killed his own previous persona in this time-line when he and Jon somehow travelled to it? Absolutely. Were the changes that had turned him into a not-so-human creature still there? Indeed.

And, yet, it was the greatest thing ever to happen to him.

Though it was also true that, before, the bar was…quite low.

And, for once, he was kind of looking forward to those holidays based on a religion he didn’t believe in (even more now, that he knew there were some terrible Things that could be considered some short of gods). Holiday that had been turned into an ultra-capitalist nightmare by big companies and that had also traumatised him as a child as he hadn’t found a single Christmas romantic movie where two boys were even considered as the potential couple if it wasn’t as a joke or the tragic subplot.

Still, he was going to see his mother to the clinic where he had put her in after he and Jon had come back from a reality both hoped they had already been prevented for ever happening again.

At least, to these versions of themselves (time travelling was headache material…).

He realised it might not be healthy to keep on going to celebrate Christmas Eve with his mother (it absolutely wasn’t), but he couldn’t help it. At least, not yet.

It really didn’t matter whether he went or not: if he didn’t show, she’d be mad he was neglecting her, and, if he visited, she would go on telling him how much she didn’t want him there. But, if he went, at least she wouldn’t be able to make him feel guilty (or force some poor nurse to call him in the middle of the night to reprimand him for being a shame of a son).

Hence, his final decision.

He was going, as much as he would have preferred to stay in their recently reformed Institute; all of them still recovering from a past timeline that had been anything but kind to any of them (and less than six months was barely the time to start assimilating it, let alone start to properly heal from the sheer trauma they all had been through one way or another), all of them quite cynical about the whole concept of the holiday, not one of them actually Christian…and, yet, the only people he could imagine himself doing something even remotely similar to one of those bloody corny American Hallmark specials.

He frowned and lowered his eyes to the notebook he had taken with him while waiting in one of the reading rooms of the institute that Elias… Jonah had previously kept always locked (basically due to having a lot of extremely specific texts on the Fears and, well, his original personal life –such a goddam soap opera that had been…-) and wrote a couple of ideas for a poesy.

That was one of the things he had discovered after coming back: he had recovered his motivation to write. Though, obviously, not to record himself in tape; it was more than enough with the tapes that more often than not randomly switched on around them, up to the point they had decided to just let them be.

As he finished writing, he looked at his watch, a bit anxious.

He knew what Jon was doing wasn’t supposed to be dangerous by any means, but…between their experience with widely assumed harmless things and his personal experience with the almost supernatural ability Jonathan Sims presented to get into mortal trouble in almost any context imaginable…he was starting to worry.

Plus, he had to leave sooner rather than later if he wanted to be sure to catch his mother awake; but he refused to go without saying goodbye to Jon.

If things got complicated, he might not be able to return home that night; he might even need to…even thinking about it was hard, but he knew it was a part of him now.

A terrible part, but a part after all.

He shivered at the thought.

He might even need to… let his not human part free for a little while. He was so ashamed of himself for even considering it but…that chance existed; he wasn’t fooling anyone by pretending otherwise. And, if that happened…he didn’t want him to see him that way…He just couldn’t, he knew Jon would blame himself (again) and he…he just wanted him to, for once, put himself first.

So he stayed there, tapping more and more nervously to the floor to some tune he heard Tim butchering (singing) a couple of days ago…

…Jon better came in quickly, or all his worry was going to become anger and, as much as he loved the man, he had learned that he, Martin Blackwood, also deserved to be mad at The Archivist.

And the world should be more concerned when it came to witness an angry Martin Blackwood.

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wizisbored · 2 years

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*falls from the ground* hi my only knowledge of beetlejuice is from two (2) youtube animatics and i am very small-brained, could you explain what the hatchetfield/beetlejuice crossover entails?? :]}

oh bud you are in for a Ride

everything ive said about the au is under the 'hf/bj au' tag, but to give an overview:

so beetlejuice, in this au, is a blue shit ridden demon zombie thing hanging out in the witchwood. not exactly sure what his deal is, but im considering having him be to pokey what wiley is to wiggly. anyway, hes trying to build his own hivemind, but all he has so far are a generally mild and polite couple he infected after they died (adam and barbra maitland) and a sad angry 15-year-old girl he talked into chugging blue shit (lydia deetz). none of them are particularly fussed about killing and infecting, so beetlejuice ends up doing less expanding the hivemind and more coparenting a teenager in the woods. at one point lydia goes into town and meets hannah in pizza pete's, both of them using supernatural abilities to win at arcade games, and they strike up a friendship. lydia introduces herself using her late mother's first name (emily) and the maitlands' surname, since shes a runnaway and doesnt want her dad finding her.

the thing is, as nightmare time taught us, things in the witchwood grow big and fast and differnt. and lyida, who at 15 is still developing physically and mentally, and is now basically being raised out in that forest, is vulnerable to that. she and the maitlands think its just a growth spurt when they notice the arms and legs of her clothes looking a bit short, but when she keeps getting taller they realise something else is up. it changes her mentally too, loosens up her morals, lets beetlejuice get in her head a little easier. which is not good news for her new friend.

#hf/bj au #nightmare time spoilers

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mcnotok · 1 year

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HDJSHWGQB I FORGOR I MADE THIS

#my art #undertale au #utmv #dreamtale #runnaway dreamtale #passive nightmare #passive!nightmare #passive nightmare sans #dreamtale passive nightmare sans #dreamtale passive nightmare #dreamtale passive #runaway nightmare sans #runaway nightmare #human passive nightmare sans #human passive nightmare #human runaway nightmare

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marlasomething · 2 years

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A Tight Weird Family 3: Sasha

Last October I wrote a TMA fic and posted it on AO3. However, I know it is veeeery long and only two chapters so…I decided to repost it on Tumblr chopping it off per character.

This is dedicated to Nadia and Paloma, thank you for being there and indulging all my writing.

Characters in this chapter: Sasha James, some random people (for now)

TW: family issues, trauma

Words: 1115

Previous chapter: Georgie

Next chapter: Daisy

Just, as usual, please forgive my non-native speaker and quick tipper mistakes! Allons-y! Marla

Sasha looked up her notebook and stared through the window; the cold London streets were populated with people likely to be headed to their families’ houses for Christmas Eve. With a little bit of luck, that would also mean to their loved ones.

She contemplated for a second trying to, at least, give her parents a call but…seconds past quickly enough. They had never supported one single important decision she had ever made about herself and the path she wanted to take (more like, they had actively tried to boycott them as much as they had been able to) so…better off without them.

Furthermore, she used to be alone; with friends, yes of course, but, in the core, just a bit of a workaholic that never got close enough to the people around her (maybe Tim had been the one exception, but, taking into account how she had really felt about him…it was still one step less close than she truly wanted him to be).

Disappearing for existence had put things in perspective.

She went back to her notebook, where she was writing an elaborate schematic of how she was going to manage to address all the issues that right now were affecting her with her psychiatrist without giving away any of the other parts.

Tim had mocked her for being so extra and such an adorable bookworm; even doing research to make sure all her cover stories made sense.

Then, she had punished him with silent treatment and wearing a double pyjamas shield every night for almost a week.

He made no further comments on the matter.

She bit her pen; she couldn’t think about anything else at the moment, so she circled the very few holes (for later consideration) on her story and closed the notebook.

As she stared at the roof of her self-assigned office, contemplating how the eclectic group of people that had ended up in her life had, in very few months, became people she felt more comfortable around than anyone she knew from before them.

Yes, she knew that trauma and lives that, up to that point, had been quite isolated did a lot and yet…it was almost miraculous. And, also, a strike of luck because, since she had come back, it had become increasingly harder and harder to feel as if she fitted between her other friends.

Yes; there had always been a distance; them mocking her for choosing supernatural studies as her career path, them asking why she had never had a steady partner, them watching outrageous news that clearly violated some collective’s rights and just shrugging like it was the most common thing in the world…but now…Maybe she was just more conscious of it.

Or maybe it was because of her nightmares; not the ones related to the Not-Them. The ones in which an Eye (she could only think about it with a capital letter) stared at her in the distance, passively, not saying a thing, but letting a message sink inside of her.

You are mine now, even if you don’t see it yet.

She was, obviously, scared; but also…glad it was happening in the current situation she was living in. She knew the moment she started working at the Archives that something changed inside her, a weird twist in her very soul. Almost as she used to imagine, when she was just a kid, binding spells would affect the people involved in them.

Actually, the worst part of the dream, when she thought about it with a colder head, was the fact that the Eye was anatomically accurate at all levels, which, with that size, was just gross up to a visceral level.

So, though she was still afraid and worried on how much she might change in the end, she was also glad it was in these precise circumstances and had made peace with the fact that she was never, ever again, going to be normal in the only aspect she had ever considered herself so.

A message made her screen lighten up. It was from Tim, who had chosen to spend some time with the kids in the part of the Institute they have turned into a refuge for…well, all kind of outcasts. With the money stolen from both the Magnus and Lucas family (cero regrets there from any of them), they had managed to actually get professional staff and pretty clear ground rules about the part of the Institute that still were the Archives and Artefact Storage, but Tim still went down there much more than any of the rest of the team.

She knew it was because of Danny.

She stared at the message, just some silly words making a reference to something she had said after he told her she could tutor some of the older kids with the subjects they were struggling more with…

All of the sudden it happened. Paranoia filled her entirely.

What if that message was for the Not-her? What if she had disappeared again and hadn’t even noticed…?

It was stupid; she knew It didn’t even work like that, but that didn’t make her fear any less real.

She took a deep breath, then another, then another; and tried to focus on the room, on what she was doing, on the reasons Tim was texting her and not some shapeshifting monster…

….she started, slowly but steady, to calm down.

She should speak with someone about it.

She totally ought to.

Next time, for sure.

Because she didn’t fool herself: her trauma, the anxiety that came from it…it was going nowhere. At least, in the short and middle run; it would take YEARS for her to be even somewhere that could remotely be classified as being fine with her memories (Hell, she was still dealing with all her much more down-to-Earth issues pre-Archives), but she was going to try (just as she was starting to do with those previous traumas).

Just as she began to be functional again, texting Tim back how she was teaching no kid or teen ‘over her dying body’ (if she left one behind next time she died), a couple stormed into her office.

Expensive clothes, conceited stare, perfect-out-of-a-magazine Caucasian middle-aged bodies…the only thing that didn’t match their aspect were the black lines that could be intuited under their clothing (Sasha knew a tattoo when she saw one, and those had some weird cult-ish shapes, just attending the very small part she could catch a glimpse of) and…

…the baby.

The baby that was staring at her fixedly.

“What the f…?�� she started, losing her manners (just as they had done).

“We need help, The Institute owes us…we came to collect.”

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