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aster-aspera · 3 years

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One place to fall

@badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: Can’t go home

Relationship: Jon/Martin/Tim/Sasha

Warnings: food, Jon just generally being a bit sad? Idk, if there’s something you want tagged, feel free to tell me

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Jon woke up that morning with a strangled gasp, the afterimage of his dreams still burned into the back of his eyelids, keeping him from falling back to sleep. He rolled over, expecting to find the comforting warmth of one of his partners to keep him company in the lonely hours of an early day. Instead, what greeted him was the cold grey wall of Georgie’s guest room. It didn’t take long after that for the memories to flow back.

Three days. He really should stop expecting them to be here at this point.

They’re not here, they can’t be here, and he can’t go home, not for a long while, not till the police stop suspecting him for a murder he didn’t commit.

He sighed, rolling over onto his back when aches started running up his side. He stared up at the off-white popcorn ceiling, trying not to think of how Tim was probably sprawled out over Martin and Sasha, stealing most of the blankets and driving his sharp elbows into their sides. He tried not to miss Sasha’s warmth against his side and the sound of Martin’s soft snores. He always used to complain about their sleeping arrangements, but now he would do anything to be back in that bed.

He groaned and rolled over a few more times, trying in vain to find a position that was comfortable enough to attempt sleep again, not that that would go very well, with the nightmares plaguing him as soon as he closed his eyes.

Eventually, he conceded and got out of bed, grabbing his cane from the wall and taking a moment to work the stiffness out of his limbs. He limped into the kitchen and smiled at the Admiral when he raised his head sleepily. He wondered if he could convince the others to get a cat when he got home. If he ever got home.

The smile slipped off his face and he turned to open the curtains, letting in the greyish light of an early dawn. The Admiral mewled plaintively at his feet, pushing against him. He bent down carefully to run his fingers along the cat’s back, closing his eyes for a moment and just letting the feeling ground him.

He straightened and made his way over to the cramped kitchen, intent on making himself a small breakfast to keep him company whilst he waited for the world to wake up. He reached towards the cabinet over the sink, and for a moment expected their mismatched collection of mugs with ridiculous quotes and terrible puns. He shouldn’t have felt the disappointment he did when instead it was just a shelf of plain white cups.

He shut the cabinet door a little more forcefully than strictly necessary, breathing deeply against the sudden swell of emotion in his throat.

In the scope of all that had happened to him, this should have been minor, this should have been fine. It was just Georgie, the person he had used to love, the person he still cared for. And his partners were really just a phone call away.

So why then, did it feel like he was breaking? Why did every little reminder this wasn’t his home tear something apart deep in his gut?

Home had always been his safety net, and now, he had nowhere to fall.

And now he just had to sit here, stare at the blank walls and hope the police would finally realise he hadn’t been the one to kill jurgen Leitner. Every day that hope felt a bit further away.

He opened the group chat he shared with the others. There were no new messages, of course not, none of them were awake yet. Six am was a bit early even for Tim. He scrolled back to their conversation from last night.

A picture of Tim grinning into the camera while a pot bubbles over behind him.

Sasha: Tim’s cooking tonight, send help

Martin: If the house burns down or he poisons us, I want you to know I love you

Jon: I’m sure it won’t come to that.

He scrolls back down to the bottom of the chat, a small smile on his face at the easy conversation of last night. It wasn’t the same as being there with them, but it was a small comfort.

The three dots that signalled someone was typing popped up on his screen and he noted with surprise Sasha was already online.

Sasha: Youre up early

Jon: I could say the same for you.

Sasha: Needed to pee

Jon: Yes, I suppose that makes sense.

Sasha: So what’s your excuse

Jon: My back hurts again.

Sasha: :(

Sasha: And is that the only reason?

Jon: No

Jon: I miss you.

Sasha: Darling

Jon: I’m alright, I just wish I could see you

Jon: In person that is.

Sasha: We could come over?

Jon: I don’t think that’s wise.

Sasha: Yeah, i guess

Sasha: We miss you too

A swarm of emotions bubbled up in Jon’s throat at the words, threatening to spill over in a mess of heartache and sorrow and fear. They press against the bounds of his throat, choking him, filling him with so many feelings he could not even begin to parse them out. He just wanted to go home.

He swallows it down, tucks the whole mess into a corner of his mind and puts down his phone. He doesn’t want to bother Sasha, or any of the others. He’s already put so much on them, dragged them into the fear and confusion that was the archives, he had no right to bother them with more.

And he knew he was just being dramatic, he was a grown man, he should be able to handle being away from home for a while. He just needed to get himself together, focus on the next step.

He picked up a stack of statements from the coffee table, slipping on his glasses and burying himself in the comforting rhythm of paper and pen. At least this was something he still controlled, still knew how to do.

Georgie appeared at some point, giving him a disapproving glance to find him working so early and coraling him into eating breakfast with her. She can’t stay long after that, and both Jon and the Admiral watch her leave with the same forlorn air.

Jon looked up from his work as a heavy knock resounded from the front door. His first thought was that it was Georgie, back from her errands early. But she would just have let herself in, and Jon knew for certain she had her key with her when she left.

And who did that leave? The police? Some avatar coming to settle a score? Gertrude's killer finally come to finish the job?

Every option was bad, and every option would not let a flimsy door stop them. He stood up, walked into the kitchen as calmly as he could with dread and paranoia hanging over him like a dark cloud and grabbed the largest knife he could find. The knock came again, and he could hear indistinct whispering from behind the door.

Multiple people then. That wasn’t good for his chances. He gripped the knife just a little bit tighter.

“Hey boss, open up,” came a familiar voice, one he used to hear rough and sleepy in the mornings and soft and loving in the evenings. His heart brightened in a momentary thrill at the thought of his partners, or at least, one of them, being on the other side of that door, so close to him again after all those days without them. And all he had to do was open up that door and pull them into his arms once more.

That thrill was almost immediately dampened again as he realized they should not be here. It was why he had left in the first place. They were too connected to him, too wrapped up in his messy web of conspiracy and paranoia. If the police saw them here, if Elias saw them here, they would be leading all of it right to Georgie’s doorstep.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” He told the door and tried not to think of the warm hands behind it.

“We’re not supposed to do a lot of things,” Came Sasha’s amused voice.

“Like date each other,” Tim filled in, “But here we are, so you going to let us in now?”

“No, the police could find out, and you might get Georgie in trouble and there’s just so many reasons this is a bad idea.”

��Jon please, we’re worried about you, Georgie said you weren’t doing well,” Martin said softly

Jon sat down on the couch heavily, knees protesting from standing up too long. He stared at the door.

“And standing out here is probably a lot more risky than being in the apartment, so best let us in.”

He sighed. You never could argue with Sasha’s logic. The others looked up victoriously when he finally unlocked the door.

“There he is!” Tim crowed, as Sasha and Martin offered him a warm smile while bustling into the apartment, both laden with grocery bags. Sasha pressed a light kiss to his forehead as she passed and he tried not to start crying at the feeling.

“You have to leave,” He said as he shut the door, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Martin and Sasha didn’t look up from where they were unloading piles of vegetables and snacks from their bags.

“What? No, hey guys, I missed you, happy to see you all?” Tim complained as he draped himself over Jon’s back. Jon scowled at him.

“Jon, stop being stubborn, we’ve all been through hell the past few weeks, and right now we just want to be here to keep you company,” Martin said in that firm yet gentle voice of his.

“You really shouldn’t be alone after all that,” Sasha said as she dumped out a tupperware container into a pot.

“I’m not alone,” Jon said grumpily, “I have the Admiral.” Though he had apparently decided to make himself scarce for the time being. Jon cursed him for the betrayal.

“Are you saying you prefer the company of a cat to ours?” Tim asked, pulling them both back onto the couch and settling a blanket over them.

“Maybe,” Jon pouted, burrowing into Tim’s chest despite the fact that he was still upset with them, “He doesn’t uselessly endanger everyone to come give me cuddles.”

“Well we’re here now, and we’re not leaving till you feel better.”

“And admit it, you’re happy we’re here,” Martin said, apparently finishing up with his preparations in the kitchen and curling up next to Jon on the couch.

Jon did not want to admit it, but something warm and content curled up in his stomach, the warm feeling of home returning to his bones. A warm and savoury smell drifted through the room, clearly coming from whatever Sasha was warming up on the stove.

This apartement did not look like home in the slightest, the walls and ceiling all wrong, the furniture hard and uncomfortable and unfamiliar. But with all of them here, and that familiar smell of soup and Tim’s conditioner surrounding him, it wasn’t all that bad.

Sasha sat down on his other side, handing everyone a bowl of soup and giving Jon a gentle kiss on his knuckles. Martin pressed one to his temple and Tim just ruffled his hair fondly.

A few words were exchanged between them, but Jon didn’t bother paying too much attention. He knew he should still be angry, or at least have a firm conversation with them on what they had agreed on. But not now, not when they were here and he was home and for a moment he could forget all about Leitner and the institute and just be safe.

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toosicktoocare · 3 years

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Hi, uh, this is awkward since you're the first person I have ever requested a fic from. Anyway, if you're still taking requests for dc, would you mind making a sick Alfred? I just want the boys to do something for their father/grandfather. Thanks. Love your fics btw.

This is super cute, and I lowkey feel honored (?? lmao) that I’m your first request. I hope you like the fic!

Dick’s rounding a corner, with Jason hot on his heels, but he freezes, one socked foot seconds from leaving the dark wood of the hallway to plant on the white, almost pristine, linoleum of the kitchen, and he quickly braces both hands on either side of the doorframe when Jason slams into his back.

“What the fuck, Dickbrain?”

Frowning, Dick narrows his eyes as Bruce turns away from the stove. He’s donned in a navy blue apron, and he’s got one oven mit on to protect his hand from the hot frying pan he’s holding.

“Where’s Alfred?”

Jason peers over Dick’s shoulder, wordlessly studying the black smoke that billows up from the pan. “Christ, we’re gonna starve.”

“Jason,” Dick hisses, sparing a brief glare to Jason’s direction before bringing a worried gaze back to Bruce, his brows furrowed.

“Alfred’s sick” is all Bruce offers, his voice low and worn, and he turns back to the stove with a sigh.

“Sick?” Dick parrots back, the single word so unfamilair on his tongue within this context. “How sick?”

“He’s, like, really old,” Jason mutters, tense at Dick’s back. “Is he dying?”

“Jay,” Dick groans, his words getting lost when Damian shoves past him to squeeze into the kitchen, a small crinkle to his raised nose.

“Father, are you trying to burn down the entire manor?”

Bruce’s sigh fades to a low growl. He leaves the pan on the stove and turns back to the three, running one hand down his face. “Alfred’s fine. He’s been working through a cold the last few days, and he just pushed himself a little too hard. He’s on bed rest for the rest of the week.”

Dick gnaws lightly at his bottom lip, worried, and Jason spares a weary glance around the kitchen, fanning away some of the lingering smoke. “You’ve never cooked a day in your life, have you, Bats?”

“Jason,” Bruce warns, but, despite the gravel in his tone, his face falls around an endless sigh, and he sinks down into a chair, dropping the oven mit atop the table. “I admit I’m a little out of my element here.”

“Clearly,” Jason spits out, examining some of the spices Bruce has littered all over the counter. He pokes at whatever charred, burned mess is stuck to the bottom of a pan with a wooden spoon, groaning deep in his throat.

“Maybe we can order in?” Dick questions, peering over Jason’s shoulder with a wince.

“Nah,” Jason says, already shuffling spices around to clear space. “I’ve got this.” He turns back to the others. “Also, scram? I don’t need your deadweight in here.”

Dick offers a mock salute and clamps a hand to Damian’s shoulder, guiding him out of the kitchen.

“Grayson, Todd’s going to kill us all.”

“Relax,” Dick says, waving for Bruce to follow. “Jay’s been feeding himself for a while. He’s actually a really good cook.”

“I did not know this,” Bruce says lowly, and Dick spares a side glance, brows rising.

“Save the emotional constipation for another day, B. We’ve got Alfred to worry about.” Dick expertly ducks when Bruce swings at the back of his head, and he slips around until he’s walking backwards, facing Bruce and Damian. “I’m going to go check on him.” At the look Bruce gives him, the sharp, borderline Batman look, Dick raises both hands in defense. “I’ll be quiet; I promise.”

“I don’t believe that one bit,” Bruce grumbles. “But I’m too tired to stop you.” He starts to guide Damian to the library, to maybe pick out a book Alfred will want to read, but he stops, glancing over his shoulder. “Dick, remember. Just because Alfred’s sick, it doesn’t mean he’s incapable of tossing you out the window in a heartbeat.”

Dick grabs at his chest. “He would never!” He spins on his heels, taking the steps back up the stairs two at a time, and he’s just about to turn toward Alfred’s room when Tim steps out from his own room, somehow looking simultaneously like he’s slept for days yet hasn’t slept at all.

“What’s burning?” Tim questions around a yawn. “Alfred doesn’t burn things.”

“Bruce was cooking.”

Frowning, Tim glances toward Alfred’s room, taking mental note of the closed bedroom door. “Why? Where’s Alfred?”

“Sick,” Dick says, and immediately, Tim turns on his heel and starts toward Alfred’s room, promptly dodging Dick’s quick attempts at grabbing him until Dick’s bear-hugging him and pulling him back right before he can twist open the door.

“Let me go, Dick.” Tim wriggles in Dick’s arms, but Dick only tightens his hold and starts back to the stairs.

“Not a chance, Tim. You can’t be around him.”

“It’s not going to kill me, Dick.”

Dick sets Tim down on the top step, frowning. “Maybe not, but I’ve seen you hooked up to IVs too many times now, baby bird. So, humor me? I’ll tell Alfred you say hi.”

Tim doesn’t pout. He pulls his lips into a wordless, flat line, eyes sharp against Dick’s blue ones, and they remain like that for an endless minute before Tim breaks the gaze with a sigh. “Who’s cooking?”

“Jay is. I’m sure he could use the help.”

“Doubtful,” Tim mutters, but he starts down the steps anyway, and Dick smiles, watching Tim turn into the kitchen, before he starts back to Alfred’s room, offering two courtesy knocks before slipping quietly into the room.

Alfred’s propped up into a seated position, his pale face pulled to the window, but when Dick steps in, he turns to him, offering a tired smile.

“Master Richard,” Alfred rasps out, and Dick winces, crossing the room and dropping to the edge of the bed.

“Hey, Al. How’re you feeling?” He reaches over, brushing the back of his hand to Alfred’s cheek. It’s warm, he thinks, but not alarmingly so. “You feel a little feverish.”

“Oh, don’t dote, Master Richard. I’m quite alright.”

“B has you on bed rest,” Dick replies, and Alfred sighs around a light laugh that gives way to a few coughs.

“Master Bruce has a tendency to panic...”

“Oh,” Dick drags out, “we know.” He smooths his hand over Alfred’s blanket. “I’m sorry we didn’t notice you were sick before,” Dick sighs, and Alfred pats his hand warmly.

“No apology necessary, Master Richard. I’ll be fine in a few days tops, I assure you.”

Nodding, Dick drags his fingers through his hair. “Can we get you anything?”

“Soup would be nice,” Alfred starts. “I specifically told Master Bruce to keep far away from my kitchen, but based on the faint scent of burning eggs, I presume he did not listen.”

If there’s one thing that will consistently impress Dick, it’s Jason’s impeccable timing. At this, the latter slips into the room, kicking the door open with his foot. He’s carrying a tray that looks out of place in his hands, and atop it, there’s a large, steaming bowl of soup that smells incredible.

“Master Jason,” Alfred smiles, and Jason shoos Dick off the bed, gently placing the tray across Alfred’s lap.

“Ah, Master Jason, I’ve quite missed your cooking.”

“Wait,” Dick draws out, “You’ve had Jay’s cooking?”

“We have a thing,” Jason smirks, jabbing right where he knows it will bother Dick the most. “He comes to my apartment to patch me up, and I cook us dinner.”

“You guys have a thing?” Dick works his jaw, a pout pressing against his lips. “Al, do we have a thing?” He paces the length of the room, unfazed at Jason’s loud groan. “We definitely have a thing, right?”

“Jealously doesn’t suit you, Dick.”

Dick whips around to see Bruce walking in, with Damian close behind, a novel in hand. “B, how the hell does Jay have a thing with Alfred, and I don’t?”

“I almost want to be offended by that,” Jason spits out, smiling. “Almost.”

Dick whips a sharp gaze back to Jason, prepared to take the very clear bait Jason’s dangling before him, but he stops when Tim shuffles in, silently, and drops onto a loveseat that’s a reasonable distance from Alfred’s bed.

“You all seriously have the worst bedside manner.”

“Tim-”

“You can’t be in here, Tim.”

“You’ll get sick.”

“Are you double-masked, Master Timothy?” Alfred’s voice, though a tired rasp, carries over everyone else, and Tim hooks a finger under the top mask covering his mouth and nose, pulling it back to reveal a second mask.

“I’ll be okay,” Tim assures, and Bruce and Dick look seconds away from arguing, but Jason interrupts, flopping down onto the couch beside Tim.

“Is someone going to start reading this sh- stuff, or what?” He motions to the book in Damian’s hand, and Damian holds to book out to Bruce, eyes wide, expectant.

Bruce drags a large chair up to Alfred’s bed, muttering “careful” as Damain climbs onto the bed, situating himself beside Alfred. Dick eyes Tim wearily, shares a silent conversation with Jason, then drops onto the plush carpet below him, his back pressed against the side of the bed and one foot stretched out in front of him.

Alfred watches, an unreadable expression painted across his face. He looks to Jason, who’s tugging Tim’s legs up over his, and then to Dick, who’s face has gone soft as he watches the two. He’s slowly moves to see Damian curled up at his side, small and still beside him, and then he meets Bruce’s eyes, and Bruce smiles, a rare sight that never fails to warm him to the core.

“I’m sure you all have much work to do,” Alfred tries, and Bruce shakes his head and flicks open the book.

“There’s nowhere else we’d rather be, Al.”

#batfam #batfamily #sickfic #fanfiction #dick grayson #Jason Todd #bruce wayne #Damian Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #Tim Drake #i literally struggle writing more than 2 people in a fic #like how do you balance??

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ragingbookdragon · 4 years

Text

I Can’t Believe You’re Dating My Best Friend PT. 1

Batsis x Roy Harper (Arsenal) Story

Word Count: 3.5K Warnings: Explicit Language, Mature Themes

Author’s Note: I edited this so it reads better! Enjoy!- Thorne

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

The shrill sound of her ringtone startled her from sleep, and she fumbled along the nightstand beside her for her phone; her thumb slid across the screen and she brought it to her ear, words still laced heavy with sleep. “Mmm…hello?”

A chuckle sounded from the line followed by someone asking, Are you still in bed, babe?

She groaned and rolled over, squinting at the alarm clock. “Boy-Toy, it’s nine A.M. on a Saturday. Yes. I’m still in bed.”

A slight pause came from the line then he muttered, …Well, I can’t say anything because I’m still in bed too.

“Okay, well I actually have a reason for sleeping in. I save Gotham all night. Staying up playing video games isn’t reason for sleeping in.” she retorted.

“I wasn’t playing video games all night! And I do too have a reason, (Y/N)!”

She hummed, feeling the amusement. “Hmm? And what’s that?”

…Uh…okay…I don’t have an actual reason for it.”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh and placed the phone down, laying back and stretching; she let out a groan as her bones popped, then picked up the phone.

That was a load groan babe. You alright?

“Yeah…just my body’s way of reminding me of how I spend my nights.”

With your legs wrapped around me? He flirted and she could practically see him waggling his brows.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “I’m hanging up now.”

Wait! I was just kidding! Sort of.

(Y/N) snorted. “You know, it's almost hilarious how easy it is to make you panic.”

You’re an evil woman.

She giggled and rolled out of her bed, moving to her bathroom. “I know.” She set the phone down and moved into her morning routine.

Am I coming over tonight?

(Y/N) paused as she was putting toothpaste on her toothbrush and looked at her phone. “I thought I was coming over there?”

Doesn’t matter where…so long as you do. He purred.

She grunted and shoved the toothbrush in her mouth. “The more sex jokes you make, the less I want to talk to you.”

You love me, babe.

She scoffed. “Jury’s still out on that one, Boy-Toy.”

I’m hurt, (Y/N). She grunted and began brushing her teeth, listening as he continued. Anyway…You came over here last week. We decided on me coming over this week.

(Y/N) spit into the sink, rinsing out her mouth. “You still have the key to the apartment in the east side?”

The one labeled…(Y/N)’s apartment?

She inhaled deeply and stared at the phone. “Yes Roy. The one labeled, ‘(Y/N)’s apartment’, would be the key I’m talking about.”

Why do I get the feeling that you’re exasperated right now?

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and picked up the phone, moving back to her bed. “I haven’t the faintest clue as to why you’d feel that way.”

Uh huh. Sure.

She smiled. “But to answer your question, yes, that is the key.”

So, what time do I need to be over there?

“I’m free all day, so get here early, and we can spend the day together.”

You aren’t worried about your family finding out about the two of us?

“I’m not the one who’s going to get beaten to a bloody pulp when my brothers find out who I’m dating. That’s a you problem.”

She heard Roy let out a sarcastic laugh. So much for we’re all in this together.

(Y/N) let out a laugh. “Get a move on, Wildcat.” She heard him shuffle around.

I’ll be over there in about an hour.

“Alright. Meet me at the boardwalk.”

Will do. Love you, (Y/N).

“Love you too, Roy. Be careful.”

(Y/N) hung up the phone and put it back on the charger, moving back into her bathroom to shower. Once she was finished, she pulled on a pair of jeans and her Gotham Blades hoodie, and left her room, descending the stairs into the breakfast room.

She stepped in, taking in the view of her family gathered around the breakfast table. She moved beside Alfred, kissing his cheek before moving to her father and doing the same; she took her seat between Jason and Tim. “Good morning family.”

She received various replies, and Jason looked at her. “Where are you going today, Princess?”

(Y/N) glanced at him and sipped on the coffee Alfred put in front of her. “Nowhere special. Just out and about.” He nodded and her phone buzzed; she looked at it and laughed quietly, shaking her head before shoving it in her pocket.

Someone hummed and she immediately scowled knowing it was Dick. “Jason. Was that a giggle she directed at her phone?”

Jason nodded at their eldest brother’s question. “I think it was, Dickie.” He leaned in. “Who’d you get a text from, Princess?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “None of your business. That’s who.”

Dick leaned across the table with a smirk. “Is it a boy?”

“Is it any of your business?” she retorted, glaring daggers at him.

Damian crossed his arms over his chest. “You seem very reluctant to answer the question, sister.”

(Y/N) sighed at her younger brother. “It’s just a friend, Damian.”

Tim snorted into his coffee cup. “No, it’s not. Not with that laugh you just gave.”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s just a friend and who he is, is none of your business.” She stood up. “So, leave it alone.” She walked around the table to her father, and leaned down, pressing a kiss to his cheek again. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

(Y/N) started making her way to the garage when she heard scraping chairs followed by scrambling feet. She turned as she was getting into her Camaro. “What the hell is wrong with you all?”

Jason stared at her. “What do you mean, ‘I’ll be back tomorrow’?”

She gestured vaguely with her hand, repeating, It means…I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“And where are you going to be?” Dick questioned, squeezing into the doorway beside Jason.

“Take a wild guess where I’m going to be all night, Dickie.” She smirked and gave them a wink as their eyes went wide; she climbed in the driver’s seat and turned the key in the ignition.

They ran over, standing on either side of the car; Jason tapped on the window. “Roll the window down, (Y/N). Now.”

She pulled a confused expression. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” She motioned to the glass, then her ears. “Sound-proof glass—can’t hear you!” His face pinched and she heard Dick tap on the other window.

“(Y/N), where are you going?!” he shouted.

Reaching up to the visor, she hit the button to open the garage, watching it fold up in front of her, and she looked over. “What was that?”

“WHERE ARE YOU GOING!” Dick shouted louder this time.

She pulled a mock look of concern and asked, “You don’t want me to call you all night?” She put a hand to her chest in hurt. “Dickie, that hurts my feelings that you don’t want your baby sister to call you! Especially since we talk every night!”

“THAT’S NOT WHAT I SAID!” he slapped the window to accentuate his point. “YOU KNOW THAT’S NOT WHAT I SA—"

“Don’t worry, I won’t!” (Y/N) waved and though they tried to stop her, she hit the accelerator and took off, hauling down and out of the gate, cackling the entire time.

***

The drive to the boardwalk went smoothly, save for the time she had to put on ‘do not disturb’ on her phone because her family wouldn’t leave her alone about where she was going. When she got to the boardwalk, she called Roy.

He picked up after a few rings. Hello?

“Where are you, Roy?”

Pulling into a parking spot. Where are you?

(Y/N) looked around, staring outside her windows. “In a Camaro.”

Roy sighed. Babe…do you know how many people drive Camaros in this state?

“Well…statistics show that eleven percent of people ages eighteen to twenty-nine drive Chevy’s. What percentage of those drivers are Camaro drivers, isn’t known.” She listened to Roy sigh again and she giggled. “Have you ever seen Transformers?”

Yeah...why?

“My Camaro looks like Bumblebee.”

She heard Roy slam his car door. Put your flashers on really quick. She did. Alright I see you. Be right there.

(Y/N) turned off the car and opened the door, sticking a foot out to prop it open while she pulled a piece of paper out and began jotting a few words down before sticking it on the console, her phone laying just next to it.

Someone opened the door from where it lay against her shin and asked, “What are you doing, babe?”

She snorted before opening her glove compartment and pulling out another cellphone. “Leaving my family a friendly note.”

“And what does this friendly note say?” Roy chuckled.

She climbed out of the car and shut the door with her hip then wound her arms around his middle, smiling, “Says, ‘Get a life and stop budding into mine, losers.’.”

Roy chuckled and wrapped an arm around her waist, the other resting on the top of the car as he leant her backwards against the door. “They’re not gonna have fun when they find out you ditched your phone and car.” He moved his lips against her jaw, pressing a kiss to her skin. “They’ll lose their only way to track you.”

“That sounds like their personal problem and not mine.” (Y/N) breathed, tipping her head ever so slightly for him.

The corner of Roy’s mouth rose, and he pressed one final kiss to the underside of her jaw before he pulled away, holding out a hand. “Well…since you’re not worried about the rest of the night…shall we go have some fun?”

She nodded and laced her fingers through his. “Where do you want to go?”

He hummed, eyes scanning the expanse of the boardwalk. “I could honestly eat right now…you?”

“Food sounds great.” She paused and looked at her phone. “There’s a Hard Rock Cafe a couple blocks from here. Want to go there?”

“Do they have burgers?”

“What do you mean, ‘do they have burgers’? It’s the Hard Rock Cafe. Of course, they have burgers.” Slowly, her face dropped, and she gaped at him. “…Don’t tell me you’ve never been to one.”

Roy gave her a weak smile. “Guilty.”

(Y/N)’s eyes went wide, and she started dragging Roy behind her. “I can’t believe you’ve never been to an HRC. It’s practically sacrilegious to live in the US and not eat there.” She tossed a look over her shoulder. “You’re an abomination, Roy Harper. A goddamn abomination.”

“And you’re dating this goddamn abomination.” He retorted with a smile. “So, what’s that say about you?”

“That I’m probably on the Highway to Hell. But if I’m going, I’ll go laughing.”

She watched Roy’s head tip back as he chuckled, then he glanced at her, wiping his eyes. “I swear you and him are just like each other.”

(Y/N)’s eyebrow rose. “Who? Jason?” He nodded and she grunted. “We are not alike.”

Roy pressed a kiss to her hand and grinned at her. “Oh, yes you are.”

She glared. “Agree to disagree.” Roy shook his head and let her lead them to the restaurant.

They’d gotten there rather early and being ahead of the lunch crowd meant they were seated in a decent spot. The waiter had given them their menus and walked off, leaving them to decide their orders and after about ten minutes, the restaurant had been hit with the first wave of lunch-goers.

Roy looked around at the families enjoying a nice Saturday lunch and murmured, “Pretty busy today, huh?”

(Y/N) didn’t draw her eyes from the menu as she replied, “It’s Saturday, Roy. Everyone’s out for the weekend.”

He merely hummed in response and glanced at the menu. “So…what’s good here?”

“Are you reading the menu, Roy?”

“Let me rephrase that,” he laughed. “What do you recommend?”

(Y/N) grinned and flipped her menu around. “Any of the burgers, but I usually get the Original Legendary with a Mango-Berry Cooler to drink.”

The drink sounded alcoholic and with a frown he started, “(Y/N), babe…you know I don’t—”

“The Mango-Berry Cooler is nonalcoholic.” She interrupted with a knowing stare and he shut his mouth; she smiled at him. “I wouldn’t drink in front of you like that. Or recommend an alcoholic drink, Roy. You know me better than that.”

He rubbed the back of his neck feeling rather foolish for thinking she would do something like that. “I know, (Y/N)…sorry.”

She waved him off. “Don’t worry about it.” Taking his hand, she rubbed her calloused thumb over his knuckles. “I’m proud of your sobriety, Roy. I know it’s been a long road and it’ll always be one. But I’m here to support you. Always will be.” (Y/N) watched his face light up and she felt her heart flutter.

“Thank you, (Y/N). Really.”

Winking, she whispered, “Always.”

***

The server brought their food and they started eating but halfway through the meal, Roy happened to look out the window, and choked on his drink. (Y/N) put down her burger and leaned forward. “Oh my God. Are you okay, Roy?”

He coughed harshly and motioned to the window, spitting out, “B-Bro—thers!”

(Y/N)’s eyebrows drew together, and she glanced over her shoulder, and sure enough all four of her brothers were there in line; her eyes widened, and she put her head down. “Motherfucker!”

Roy tipped his hat down. “What are we gonna do?!”

She panicked for a second before waving a server over. “Yes miss? Is something wrong?”

Motioning to her brothers, she asked, “See those four boys over there?” His eyes flitted to them and he nodded. “Those are my brothers, and this boy here is my boyfriend…who also happens to be one of my brother’s best friends…and we also haven’t told them about us.” She smiled. “Do you get what I’m saying?”

He chuckled and nodded. “Yes, miss. If you’ll follow me, I can lead you to the back door.”

(Y/N) sighed, and somehow, they managed to make their way to the back exit without being seen. She turned to the server, pulling some money from her wallet, handing it to him. “Here’s two hundred…for the meal, tip, and the escape route.” He stared at the two hundred-dollar bills and she spoke again. “Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?” He nodded and handed it to her, watching as she jotted down some words.

She handed it to him. “Give that to them before they leave, would you?” He nodded again and she winked. “Thanks!” She took Roy’s hand and they sprinted out the backdoor, taking off back to the boardwalk to his car.

When they got there, they leaned against the hood of his car, catching their breaths. He motioned to her. “What did…you write…on that paper?”

(Y/N) let out a breathless giggle. “I wrote, ‘You’re getting colder, losers.’.”

The two of them started laughing and when they finally caught their breaths, he looked at her. “Wanna head to the apartment?” She nodded, and they got in his car.

***

The drive over wasn’t too far and when they got there, she collapsed onto the couch and groaned; (Y/N) felt him sit down beside her and she twisted her head up to look at him. He smiled down at her. “You good?”

She nodded and inched forward, resting her head in his lap. “Just tired.”

“Tired…or bored?” Roy snorted and (Y/N) laughed.

“Both?” He chuckled and they sat in silence for a while, Roy flipping through the channels on the TV. After about an hour, his phone rang; he picked it up and grimaced. “Who is it?” she asked.

“Your brother.”

“Which one?”

“Jaybird.”

(Y/N) motioned to the phone. “Put it on speaker and let me listen.”

He sighed and answered it, putting it on speaker. “Hello?”

Roy.

“Yes, Jaybird? What can I do for you?”

I thought I told you to stop calling me that.

Roy shrugged. “You did…but you aren’t here, so…” (Y/N) grinned at him.

Whatever jerk-off, it’s beside the point. Have you seen or heard from (Y/N)?

“Why? Is something wrong?”

She heard Jason sigh. We think she’s spending the night with a boy, but we can’t find her. She’s been giving us the slip all day.

Roy looked down at a grinning (Y/N), who was struggling to hold in her giggles. “Oh yeah? Master-Escape-Artist-Miss-Batgirl is giving y’all the slip? Who would’ve thought she was capable.”

Look smart-ass, have you seen her?

“Not today I haven’t.”

Damnit.

Roy smirked and looked at the phone. “Can I ask you a question, Jaybird?”

I’m seriously going to throat punch you if you call me that again.

“Uh huh, sure, but in all seriousness, why’re you so concerned about (Y/N)? She’s a grown woman—she can handle herself.”

Well for starters, she’s my baby sister. She’s not old enough to spend the night with a boy.

Roy laughed. “Dude, she’s twenty-two. She’s not the innocent little angel that the city of Gotham sees. Far from it in fact.”

There was a long pause and when Jason spoke again, he sounded suspicious. And how do you know that, Roy?

His eyes widened, and he glanced down at (Y/N). “Uh…I just…do?” Her eyes went wide at his response and she gaped at him, motioning to the phone; he muted it.

“Are you out of your goddamned mind, Roy?!”

He threw his hands up. “I panicked!”

“No fucking shit!” (Y/N) cradled her head in her hands. “Oh God, he’s gonna figure out its you.”

Roy whined. “No, he won’t.”

She opened her mouth to speak when Jason came back over the line, his voice quiet. I’m tracking your phone, Harper. Their eyes went wide, and they stared at the phone. If I get over there and I find (Y/N) with you…I’m gonna rip your spine out through your ass.

The line went dead, and they sat in silence for a few minutes, then she offered, “You wouldn’t happen to have your suit with you…would you?”

“Should I go put it on?”

(Y/N) nodded. “I think we should get out into the city…we’re in so much trouble now.” The two of them hurried into the master bedroom, shucking off their clothes to suit-up.

Roy stared shamelessly at her as she slipped her suit on. “Hey, Batgirl?”

She didn’t look at him as she pulled the zipper. “What?”

“Think we’re gonna get out of this alive?”

(Y/N) barked a laugh as she twist-locked her gloves in place. “Absolutely not. I assume that tonight, you’re going to get your ass kicked…repeatedly and I’m going to find myself the subject of unwanted lectures about dating brother’s best friends.”

Roy didn’t even seem fazed by it, nodding, “I figured that was what was going to happen.”

She nodded and walked over, wrapping her arms around his middle. “We’re in this together, Arsenal.” (Y/N) hummed and moved her hands to his butt, squeezing it. “Or should I say Ass-senal? You know what? I could just say ‘Arse-nal’ since ‘arse’ means ‘ass’.”

Roy reached behind him and grabbed her hands, walking her backwards until her she hit the wall; he brought her hands above her head and stood between her legs. “What is it with you and touching asses?”

She stared up at him with an eyebrow arched. “Was that rhetorical? Or do you actually want my answer?” Roy chuckled at her and she continued. “I mean I like touching your ass.” She leaned as much as she could and glanced at it before moving back to him. “It’s a nice ass. Nicer than Wally’s even.”

The hands around her wrists tightened ever so slightly. “Have you been touching Wally’s ass?”

(Y/N) giggled. “I touch everyone’s ass. Especially nice ones. Like Wally’s.”

“Wha—Why?”

She shrugged. “If he’s a cutie, gotta tap that booty.” (Y/N) watched Roy’s contort and she burst into giggles. “Oh, your face was so worth that line.” His grip loosened, and she looked at him, then his hands moved to her haunches, hoisting her up against the wall; her legs went around his waist and she moved her arms to his neck. (Y/N) narrowed her eyes and smirked at him. “What’s wrong, Roy?”

He glared at her. “You really like walking the line don’t you, babe?”

She shrugged innocently, murmuring, “See Boy-Toy, it’s not so much walking the line as it is seeing just how far I can get before someone calls me out.”

Roy smirked at her. “Good thing I’m around to do it for you.” (Y/N) simply grinned at him and he leaned in, his lips brushing hers. “Think we have time to shake sheets?”

Before she could even response, the front door slammed shut, echoing through the apartment. “Roy! Where the fuck are you! I know you’re here!”

The two of them glanced towards the door and she muttered, “No, Roy…I don’t think we do.”

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artxyra · 4 years

Note

I have another request. Mari and Damian go to the same school. Suddenly a gas enters the school. Girls become a cat for 3 days. Boys are tasked with taking care of the cats and Damian gets Mari. 1st day they bond. (He calls her Angel) 2nd day she makes a robin costume (her logo has angel wings) and secretly goes with Robin on patrol. He gets attacked, she saves him, they love her. 3rd day when fam is out she makes Damian a cake. She turns to normal they become really close. Btw I love your work!

Note: I literally had nothing planned going into this, but once I started writing the story took in the direction that I never had intended but I do like.

Damian Wayne was already on edge that day. He came to the school with an aura that was dark than the usual don’t mess with me. One dared to go near him, though a series of classmates wanted the school’s sunshine to ease the mess, she was nowhere in sight. In fact, the school is pretty sure they will never meet seeing as she’s been here for over a couple of months and never once had she met a person named Damian.

For Damian, he was on edge because of the night before. Batman and Robin had a run-in with this mysterious new villain and that has everyone on edge. There was no record of this villain and at first, they thought it was Selina, but she was out of the states and no one has heard from her in a while. The only clue they have is that the villain was also enthralled by cats.

So, when a mysterious yellow gas, Damian’s mood went beyond anyone could imagine. The gas spreads through the windows and into the classroom. Panic rose as the gas begins to cover only the females of the school. One-by-one they all shrink to an unbelievable size. Cat’s meow echoes from the gas and as the males swipe away the lingering gas remnants, they are faced with an unbelievable sight.

In the placements of every female in the room are cats wearing the school’s infamous uniform that apparently also shrinks to fit the cat’s bodies. A series of meows to hissing breaks the shock faces of the males.

Immediately, the school heads started to investigate. Using the cats as a base they found out that the girls could stay in this form for at least three days, if not more. After contacting the proper guardians/parents, it came down to those who couldn’t be able to return home due to strict reasons, such as living alone, or strict landlord rules about pets. Those that couldn’t go to their families were immediately assigned a caretaker regardless of status.

Damian at first was conflicted. Yes, he loves animals, but at the same time, there was a risk, his family’s secret. What happens if whoever he gets remembers their time as a cat? Was it that big of a risk? The appropriate answer is yes, but the animal lover in him said no.

“Here you, Marinette, meet your temporary caretaker.” The attendance persons say to the cat dressed in a pink vet with blue trim and the school’s logo on the pouch. He hands the cat version of Marinette to Damian, who was unsure of how to hold her. It’s not this cat is a normal cat, like Alfred.

Marinette squirms in Damian’s arms, he quickly readjusts her before opting to set her down. She flicks her tail across his legs and nods her head. Damian sighs, but not before the attendance person gives him a reassuring smile.

‘C’mon Marionette.” He grumbles walking towards the entrance of the school. Examining his peers, he can tell that some are way too happy about this predicament while others are completely nervous. Marinette, once again, meows gaining Damian’s attention. He looks down to see her playing with his pant legs. Unsure what she means, he picks her up and cradles her to his chest.

“Young Master,” He hears Alfred greets to him. Turning to give the family’s butler attention he tightens his hold on Marinette, who hisses in response. “The school has informed us of our newest visitor, I take it that you have a plan against your brothers.” The look on Damian’s usually stoic face says it all.

Upon entering the Wayne manor, Damian is grateful that his older brothers, aside from Tim, live outside of the manor. He knows that he couldn’t handle the constant amount of teasing that would ensure once word got out.

“Alfred tells me we have a visitor.” Damian sets Marinette down so that he could face his father. Bruce eyes the dark-haired cat before turning his attention back to his son. “Are you sure that is a good idea?”

Damian huffs, absently petting Marinette’s fur. “Of course, it is father. Why wouldn’t I bring her home? She needed a place to stay and after a long hard thought I decided that this was the best fit.”

Bruce curtly nods. “Just keep her away from the family’s hangout.” Damian acceptingly nods.

“C’mon Marionette, I’ll show you where you’ll be staying at. Be warned, that you are not the only cat here. Alfred can be very territorial.” Damian gestures for Marinette to follow. She meows and tots over to Damian.

They walk in silence. Damian was unsure what to say to a person he barely knows, and Marinette just eyes her surroundings.

That night, Damian went out as Robin once he triples checked that Marinette was sleep, but when he came back, he was greeted with Marinette yowling at him to go to sleep. He glares at the female cat as he swears, he heard Alfred the cat laughing at her commands.

The first day with cat Marinette was eventful. Damian was woken up by the lack of air as Alfred the cat was resting on his head. Once he had pried the black and white cat off of him, he is then greeted by Marinette’s sass. She flicks her tail and pries open the door before disappearing down the halls. Damian calls out to her, but it fades with the meowing from Alfred.

Once he made it downstairs, he sees Marinette sitting outside of the kitchen, she is eyeing the sleep-deprived nature of Timothy Drake. Tim was only seconds away from passing out with the steaming cup of coffee in hand.

Marinette jumps onto the table before anyone could scold her and push against Tim’s hand. He absently pets her thinking that it was probably Alfred annoying him. Marinette takes this moment to use her paws to push the coffee mug away from Tim. She looks around the room before jumping off the table and trots over to a cabinet.

Alfred, the human, appears behind Damian humming, he is intrigued. “It seems that Miss Marinette is on a mission. What would you like for breakfast young master?”

Damian murmurs his answer before he is quick at awe with how Marinette was mixing ingredients into a cup. With her nose, she nudges the cup over to Alfred, who picks up but not without petting her head. Handing the newly tainted cup to Tim, they wait patiently with baited breaths. Tim takes a long sip. Light snores then escape his lips as his head fits the table.

Damian stares at Marinette amazed. She lets out a meow and walks over to Damian, who picks her up and exits the kitchen area. Taking a seat on the couch, he begins to play with Marinette. Tapping her paws as she swats at him. Alfred, the human, quickly snags a couple of photos before proceeding with breakfast.

“How did you do that? Getting Drake to sleep?” Damian mentally slaps himself the moment the words left his lips. Marinette meows in response and snuggles closer to Wayne heir. “Maybe you’re not so bad as they say, Marionette.”

Marinette hisses at the male, her eyes becoming slits as she playful claws at him. Damian winces upon the nails attaching to his skin.

“Sorry, Angel.” He freezes in his spot. Never once had a nickname came out so capturing. Sure, he had called people by their last names, rarely their first, but nothing as meaningful as Angel.

He didn’t know how long he kept Marinette in his arms reading a book; however, what he does know it lasted enough time for Alfred to finish breakfast and call everybody down. Marinette’s purrs quickly turn into yowl as she felt her body move from its comfortable state.

Damian pats her head before entering the kitchen.

“Damian!” Bruce shouted upon exiting the dining room. In front of him is Marinette chasing Alfred the cat at high speed. She was jumping and dodging as Alfred was sliding and jumping past the future. Damian had to hold in his laugh when he saw the two cats running amuck. He could hear Marinette’s hissing, which made him wonder what Alfred did to upset the poor cat girl.

“An—Marionette,” He calls out ignoring his father’s Bruce Wayne version of the bat glare. Marinette meows, coming to a stop before jumping into Damian’s arms. She purrs as he slides his hand down her fur.

“Damian, please keep your friends under control.” Bruce then disappears down the hall probably to one of the many secret entrances to the cave. Damian doesn’t speak until he knows he is alone.

“Angel, what did Alfred do to you?” He asks the cat in his arms. Marinette looks to him and meows. “You want to do outside?” Unsure what she wanted, but the head gesture towards the window stated otherwise.

Marinette purrs in delight the moment her paws touch the ground outside the manor. Damian stares at her, curious as to what she’ll do. This was supposed to be the sunshine of their school anyway. Marinette trots off over to a bed of flowers. She sniffs them before letting out a sneeze. Damian holds in his breath, hoping that it would keep him from smiling or awing over the adorable sneeze. Maybe it was the fact that she’s a cat that making him feel this way?

Together they stay outside the manor until it was near lunchtime. Marinette teases him with her tail every chance she got meanwhile Damian was holding in the urge to yell or awe at her. It was becoming a dance of emotions.

“Young Master, your father is in need of your help.” Alfred calls out to him. Damian knowing what that meant, hands Marinette over to Alfred] before dashing off to become Robin. “He’ll be back Miss Dupain-Cheng would you like something to eat?” Marinette nods as Alfred hums his way to the kitchen.

Still sleeping in the same chair as earlier was Tim and right beside him with claws out is Alfred, the cat with a devious look in his eyes. Marinette squirms in Alfred’s, the human, arms. Tim moves just enough to avoid the incoming claw. Marinette hisses at the black and white cat, waking up Tim in the process.

“Uh, how long was I out for?” Tim looks around, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “Uh, who’s the cat?”

“Master Timothy, you’ve been asleep all morning, now would you like anything to eat or join your father and brother?” Alfred asks hoping the third oldest male would choose food over crime-fighting. Tim’s stomach growls in response sealing his fate.

When Damian had returned that night after hours of crime-fighting, he was greeted with the sight of Marinette sleeping on his bed with Alfred, the cat, on the opposite side. Little did he know was that Marinette had wondered around the manor as Alfred, the human, began cleaning.

That night Damian swears he heard voices as he slept.

“Alfred, no~” It was feminine something that the unusual in the manor unless his sister or Selina came by. What follows quickly afterward is a series of meows.

Slightly awoken by the noise he darts upward; a daze looks in his eyes. In front of him are a pair of dark cat ears and long dark hair. Thinking that it was Marinette, he goes back to sleep for the night.

At the start of the second day, Damian was woken up by Marinette purring rather than Alfred smothering him.

“Morning Angel.” He greets the smaller of the two dark-haired cats. Marinette meows sliding her tail against his arm. It was then that he had noticed the change in the outfit the female cat was wearing. No longer was it her school uniform but an updated version of it with a pink ruffle skirt around her waist. Confused, Damian wasn’t sure whether he should question the new information or integrate the cat. Choosing to ignore the outfit change, he begins to get ready for the day.

Marinette sneaks out of the bedroom and down the halls.

When Damian sees Marinette later that morning, all he could do was groan at the sight before him. It had to be Dick that had entered the manor for the day. Didn’t the oldest Wayne had a job?

“Grayson, what are you doing here?” He asks glaring at the fact that Dick had Marinette in his arms.

“Baby bird, why didn’t you tell me that you had gotten a new pet. I’m sure B wasn’t too happy.” Marinette meows loudly in his arms.

“Tt, she’s a guest, for the time being, Grayson, now put An-her down. She doesn’t like to be held by strangers.” Damian was quick to catch himself saying her nickname. Dick pouts and reluctantly puts the cat down.

“She’s already better than Alfred, the cat. Which reminds me, Alfred the butler says that breakfast is done if you want any. Timmy already ate and ended up disappearing.” Dick’s reply instantly causes Marinette to run in the direction of the kitchen. Damian narrows his eyes feeling a slight sense of betrayal.

Dick turns to Damian and wraps his arm around the younger’s shoulder and laughs, “C’mon, baby bird.”

That night as Damian was getting ready for patrol, he doesn’t realize the makeshift smaller version of the Robin uniform being pulled out by the teeth of Marinette’s mouth. She tugs against the uniform and slowly puts it on. Trotting over to the mirror, she checks herself out and sneakily follows Damian to the Bat cave.

For a cave full the world’s greatest detective, them not noticing a small cat wearing a cape that has the Robin emblem with addition to having angel wings was the most face-palming feat they have ever done.

Marinette snuggles her way into a hidden compartment on Robin’s motorbike. She waits until she could feel was rumbling of the engine. The engine soon cuts off, popping her head out of the hidden compartment, she looks around. Nothing felt out of place for her. Though she could feel the pulsating effects of the magic with her.

She could still hear Damian checking out the buildings. There is nothing to report on, something she knows the feeling all to well with her time being Ladybug. Late-night patrols were her worst nightmare.

Staying put, Marinette knew she couldn’t move, not just yet. There needs to be the ultimate reason for her to reveal herself. That lasted until the growing sounds of someone grunting and punching filled her sensitive ears.

“Oh, how the little birdy is struggling against someone like little old me.” A voice says off in distance.

Turning her head, she finally sees Robin in the midst of what looks like hand-to-hand combat with this new cat-obsessed villain. She could also see that Damian was struggling to maintain the upper power over the villain.

The villain places Robin and locking hold.

Marinette jumps out of the hidden spot instantly transferring into the catgirl form. Her ears perk at the sound of grunts, she moves quickly to the fighting scene. Incepting the hold, she frees Robin who falls backward.

“It seems my magic has evolved or you’re just a magical being.” The villain murmurs but she was able to pick up.

“It was you that turned the school into cats.” Marinette accuses as she felt her emotions go into over-drive. With heighten senses she engaged in combat with the villain.

The villain taunts her as Robin struggles to readjust himself. The paralyzing effects of whatever the villain holds over him fading away. He could barely hear the sounds of his family over the earpiece as he watches in shock seeing the Angel, he had been taking care of fighting the villain that turned females into cats.

She could feel the magic he was wielding pushing against her own, telling her to revert into her cat form. Pushing against the call, Marinette holds herself firm against the incoming blows.

“Augh, I got no time for this.” The villain waves his device. Marinette hisses feeling the shrinking feeling taking over again.

With a mighty blow narrowly defeats the villain just as the magic turns her back into a cat. Licking her paw, she trots over to Robin and brush against his legs. He is too in shock to do anything.

The next thing the pair knew, Red Robin was cuffing the cat villain as Nightwing and Batman make their way over to Robin, trying to get him to speak. Robin was unsure how to answer any of the questions, he simply just gestured to Marinette.

Marinette’s eyes twinkle as Nightwing takes her into his arms gushing about how great of a cat she is; however, the same couldn’t be said for Batman.

“She saved me, father if it wasn’t for her who would have known what the Cat-caller would have done to me.” Damian finally speaks placing his foot down against his father’s better judgment. Batman tried to up the fact that she knows their family secret, but even he couldn’t deny the possibilities.

Finally patting her fur, everyone knew that she had won over the famous Batman and Bruce Wayne’s appreciation.

When Damian and Marinette had returned to the manor, he couldn’t help but be at odds with her. He didn’t know what to say, to ask even. This cat had saved him, knows his family's biggest secret, and could fight. This was not something he normally deals with within a single day. He watches her as she slept in her little area, wondering what to say to her when she becomes human once again.

Damian falls asleep never noticing the sincere look one eye open of Marinette.

Today was supposed to be the last day for all the females in their school to be human. The girls were excused from the classes however the males were not. It was Tim that left the manor first, then it was Damian and Bruce followed not long after. Alfred, the human, needed to run some errands living the animals alone in the manor.

Marinette could feel the magic effects of the gas waning off. She chased Alfred, the cat, around the manor because he ended disrupting her relaxing time only to be followed by Titus soon after. She had barely spent any time with the other animals over the course of the two days.

Waking up after a quick catnap, Marinette began to realize that she was no longer in her cat form, but in her catgirl form instead. Her ears perk up with an idea. Maybe she should Damian a thank you cake for everything he has done for her. Yup, that is exactly what she is going to do.

Calling for the animals to follow her, she makes her way into the kitchen. Quickly locating the ingredients, she immediately got to work but not before believing she is on a cooking show giving instructions to her audience, the animals.

They all watch Marinette, intrigued by what she’ll make. Titus had nudged her hand a few times reminding her that Damian was a vegetarian allowing her to make the changes quickly before mixing them together.

As the cake baked in the oven, she began mixing a vanilla vegan frosting, a recipe she remembers her parents making when the customer was strictly a vegan. The buttercream came out nice and silky. It wasn’t long before the cake was done and put in the chiller for cooling. Marinette knew that she only made hours before anyone would return to the manor. Hopefully, by then she would have fully reverted to a human.

The cake was done and fully decorated before Alfred had returned with Damian behind him. Marinette, now fully human, smiles at the two with a joy that could defeat all darkness.

“I made you a cake as thanks for handling me as a cat. You didn’t have to, but you did.” Marinette place a quick peck on the youngest Wayne’s cheek before cutting him a slice.

“Uh...” Damian was speechless. Little did he know was that Alfred was filming the encounter with a knowing smirk. Maybe this would be the person that thaw out the ice prince’s cold heart.

“Don’t it’s vegetarian safe, you can thank Titus for reminding me and thank Alfred, the cat, for not attempting to sabotage it while I was baking,” Marinette adds when she saw the look in Damian’s eyes and the way his body language spoke upon being handed the slice of cake.

Together, against all odds, they sat in silence eating their own slice of cake. Alfred even takes one and appraises the young woman about her craftwork. She then explains that her parents owned a bakery growing up and that she’s been baking ever since she could remember.

Properly meet the rest was of the Wayne family was at dinner, when Damian begged her to stay the night to which she turned down on the basis that she needed a change of clothes and that she should go, check out her dorm apartment and make sure everything was okay.

In the weeks that follow, everyone at their school was in shock seeing the ice prince and sunshine incarnated hanging out with one another. No was surprised when the two began dating a couple of months after the cat situation. They were a match made in heaven.

Tag List: *View my Tagging System guidelines for how to to be properly tagged or removed.

#daminette #maribat #damimari #cat marinette #ml x dc #mlb x dc #marinette x damian

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chronicbatfictioner · 3 years

Text

Exchanges and Compromises - Chapter 16

Just as Tim predicted, a week later, Bruce Wayne requested to meet him at work. While the request itself - sent through proper channels that is Tim's secretary - it specifically requested Tim by name. It had made a little stir with the other members of the company's Board of Directors, as they all thought that 'little Timmy' shouldn't be meeting the 'big and scary' Bruce Wayne by himself. "What if he manipulated Tim into a merger??" some had asked. It wasn't until Tim assured them that he would not make any corporate decisions without prior consulting - and stating that he 'doesn't like Bruce Wayne at all. He's a doof,' - that the rest of the BOD relented.

Bruce came in accompanied by Alfred Pennyworth, the family's butler. Bane, Tim knew, was accompanying Dr. Thomas and Mrs on a trip overseas. For some reason, the Waynes did not promptly send Bane away, even after he literally and physically got tossed out of the Wayne Manor's living room's bay windows - courtesy of Jason - when he tried to attack Damian.

"If this is a business meeting, Bruce, I would appreciate it if you wait for the rest of my BOD members to come up here," Tim hinted.

"No, no, no it's not..." Bruce seemed a little thinner than when Tim last saw him in person, a little disheveled and worse for wear, which would be odd given the fact that Alfred was right by his side. No self-respecting butler would have allowed their masters to leave the house looking like Bruce then - Tim knew, his dad had one since Tim was very young. Tim might not opt to keep the butler when his parents passed, but he knew the tenets fairly well.

Yet, Alfred just looked mildly disapproving but had walked into the office in the same eager speed as Bruce did.

Tim briefly wondered to whom Alfred's loyalty lies.

"I need... I need to know that there are no recording devices in here," Bruce stated.

Tim took a few blinks to choose an answer, "I'm not of the habit of having recording devices in my office. You, however, came with a tracking device," Tim pointed out.

"What?? I've left my cellphone in the car! Is it... can it listen? Record?" The shock on Bruce's face was more prevalent than when Damian came out of nowhere and called him 'father.'

Tim checked his monitoring system, courtesy of Harper Row, which can detect the type and model and broadcast type of any gadget and displayed it on Tim's cellphone. "No, it just tracks your location and is GPS-based. Why...?"

"Oh thank god..." Bruce slumped in his seat. "Alfred, can you make sure that no one would come here until I'm... until we're done?"

"Certainly, Master Bruce," Alfred bowed lightly and walked out the door.

"Wow, okay... whatever this is has got to be... better be important. I mean, you sent your butler out the door..." Tim commented.

"It is. It's about..." Bruce still hesitated. "Look, I don't usually do this. I don't know why. But you, your work-- your company and its line of business would make you-- would get you in touch with your end-clients, right? The common people who used social security benefits to get their meds, Doc Leslie Thompkins' patients and all that..."

He paused, so Tim shrugged. "I do try to personally meet my end-client to figure out what kind of medications they would need more; and Dr. Thompkins is one of my clients, too, whose assessment I can quite trust. You're not planning to get into the generic meds business also, are you?"

"No, no, no... This has nothing to do with WE. I mean... it should be, in the long run. But in the short run... Look, this would sound odd. But when you talk to your clients, have you ever hear of the Birds of Prey?" Bruce asked. Tim studied the man before him for a good long while. Before he could answer, Bruce continued, "my cousin Kate... she has just gotten kicked out of the military academy. She said she thought of donning a costume and joined the Birds of Prey to fight crime, so she could feel useful again, you know? I told her they're criminals, vigilantes. She said I should go down to meet the common people of Gotham and ask them what they think of the Birds of Prey. And then I thought of you."

"Yeeea... I'm not following..." Tim feigned - but only partially. He could already tell where the direction of Bruce's conversation was trying to take.

"Do you think they're criminals or heroes? I mean, does anybody ever mention them doing like, extortion, murder, stuff like that...?" Bruce insisted.

"Are you like, worried for your cousin Kate or... is there anything of significance that I should know about?" Tim finally decided to just bite the bullet and ask right out. There is no recording device in his office, all right. But his tiepin doubles as a camera that would send to Barbara as soon as Tim turned it on. And he had turned it on the instant Bruce walked in.

"As far as I've heard, the Birds of Prey -- ooh, I hate the pun, but it's right there-- preyed on criminals. Those who take advantage of the weak and all that jazz. I've experienced their... service if you will; when my delivery trucks were hijacked by some supposedly-metahuman group. They stopped the hijacking and arrested the group. They even found out that the group had an inside man right here." he elaborated.

The case was widely publicized, after all, when three trucks in succession that contained generic medications to be delivered to Gotham General and several free clinics were hijacked. The short version was the Birds of Prey stopped the hijacking as it was happening, then the glorious GCPD arrested those men, and they also discovered the inside man within Drake Industries - one of the Directors who had planned to jump ship while sinking DI along with it.

In reality, it had been Tim's work. The Birds - Dinah and Helena - helped with physically stopping the hijacking; while Tim dug out the paperwork and discovered the traitor. Barbara had then sent the evidence to the police, along with video footage of the man talking to a competitor of the company.

"Oh yeah, I've heard of the case. So you don't think they're bad people?"

Tim slow-shrug, just for the sake of dramatization. "I won't say they're totally good people - I mean, them hijackers looked like they've gone 12 rounds with Ted Grant the boxer. And they supposedly have like, superpowers or something. But I'm not gonna say they're bad people - they knew exactly where those shipments were going and who'd be using them, and they worked hard to stop the hijacking, you know. Financially speaking, DI might be able to weather like, a dozen hijacking. But for those people who needed the meds..." he let the sentence trailed for Bruce to fill in the blanks. He knew that the man has the same metaphorical bleeding heart as Martha Wayne, his mother.

"Okay..." Bruce actually looked a little more alive after the explanation. "Do you know how to contact them? I need to ask them for help."

"Oh, wow... Heh. It's not like I have them on my speed-dial... I think they maybe have an inside man in GCPD? They showed up right after I made the report of the third hijacking." Tim hedged, internally cursing himself for not finishing his project of the Birdcall app. The cellphone app would have made it easier for anyone to call the Birds or to alert the Birds of crimes. Alas, the whole issue with Jason and Damian's appearance has delayed its development. Tim made a mental note to assign Harper on it.

Bruce looked disappointed. "I see... then I will need you to relay this to the GCPD for me, Tim, can I trust you? I mean, it's... crucial," he said.

"What is this about, the kid and his guards?" Tim tested, just for kicks.

"Oh, no. The kid... Damian and his guards were actually a kind of reprieve in the household. They made sure that everything would be... proper and in order." Bruce smiled thinly. "It's about Bane. I have evidence that he has murdered a lot of people."

"Oh my," Tim gasped earnestly, really. Jason and Dick, and even Damian, have reported that aside from Bane's obvious animosity against them, he had tried nothing - yet. They were also the ones who told Tim that Bane has placed nanotech trackers on all three Waynes' clothing. Unfortunately, they were not able to actually snoop around - as there would always be one of the Waynes in the house.

Bruce handed him a small USB drive. "It's all here. Please, Tim. I mean, before this, I couldn't care less if that brute would leech all of the family's fortune. But now I have a son to think of... Talia might have made sure he's physically well-guarded. But Bane is a long-con kind of person and is really patient. He came to Gotham specifically for us after so many years. He..." he paused. "I believed my father when he told me that he had not betrayed my mother. But without a shred of physical evidence, there is nothing either of us can do. And how are you going to ask for a DNA sample from someone like Bane?"

"Spoon? Toothbrush? Hairbrush?"

"He's bald," Bruce replied dryly. "I'm not even sure he'd showered. Alfred said his bathroom has always remained tidy."

"Ew. No. Okay. Uh... I can't promise you that any bird would come your way, but I'll figure out a way to let this fall to the right hands, yeah?" Tim replied, putting the USB drive into his suit jacket - where Barbara could remotely access it through the circuitry in said pocket.

"Okay," Bruce looked relieved. "And now, since Bane is tracking me and I'm sure he knows what this building is, how about we come up with a stupid cover story?"

A proposal landed in Tim's sight just as Bruce finished talking. He grinned mischievously. "How about we collaborate to expand Leslie Thompkins' Free Clinic? Everybody's happy, and neither of us won't lose sleep over it."

"You'd have made a great corporate spy, do you know that?" Bruce grinned back, looking a thousand times happier than when he walked in.

"Oh yeah, but I already have my own ways to get secrets," Tim winked as he handed the proposal over. "Have a look at this, and let me know what you think. I think we can spend the discussion over lunch. Would Alfred mind if we ask him to acquire our lunches?"

"I'm sure he would be delighted if he hasn't already..." Bruce replied, getting up and opened the door. Alfred stood there with several paper bags in his hands. "He has already, it seemed," Bruce reported.

"Indeed, sirs. It is most rude to visit an associate without bringing anything. I daresay a quick lunch is sufficient for you, Master Timothy?" Alfred replied as he entered and set up the contents of the bags - several types of sandwiches and salad mixes.

"Oooh, more than sufficient, thank you, Alfred!"

"Not a problem, Sir. Please indulge, gentlemen." Alfred smiled. "Might I remind you, Master Bruce, that the Doctor and Mrs. Wayne shall return in two hours? It would be prudent to conclude your discussion by then." he hinted.

"Definitely, Alfred. We're just talking about what needs to be done to expand a hospital." Bruce grinned triumphantly at him, showing him the proposal. "Mother would be delighted at this."

#Batless!AU #Tim Drake #Stray!Tim #Bruce Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #Birds Of Prey #JayTim #Jason Todd #RedGhost!Jason #Talon!Dick #Dick Grayson #Damian Wayne

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officially-multi-fandom · 3 years

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||Tangled Hearts|| three

Joe Mazzello x Fem!reader Tangled A.U.

Warnings : hints of abusive relationships, hints of a bad childhood

Taglist : @mazzell-ro // @speciallyred // @mistiermistshazierdays // @somarsword // @lizgarxo //

taglist is open!

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series masterlist || main masterlist

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(Y/N) didn't know Tim. She didn't know him in the slightest. Why was she trusting him to let her out of this dungeon she grew to call her home?

The answer would have been easy, that he was her only hope. And to some extent, he was. She loved adventures even though she hadn't been on one, not one she could remember, anyway. But after meeting him and serving him some leftover soup (while he awkwardly stood in the corner of the kitchen, rubbing his sore shoulders), she realized how desperate she was. She didn't know who he was, but yet he would be more trustable than her mother.

She was doubtful, of course. What if people like him were the reason her mother locked her up? Were people like him the reason that daughters couldn't sleep at night? Were people like him the reason that people would be deemed as "kind" since the bar seemed so low? She didn't know. But she didn't have anything to lose, and if anything were to happen, then she would finally get a chance to show off her impeccable skill of injuring people with only a frying pan.

She was snapped out of her reverie from a loud sigh at the other end of the table. She saw Tim stretching his arms over his head leisurely, a yawn escaping his lips.

"Well, that was one of the most amazing soups I've had, so thank you for that," he said, his awkwardness from earlier seemed to have gone, or maybe he was just masking it well.

She nodded, and a small "You're welcome" was said. Her mother may have been a monster, but that didn't stop her from teaching the young girl some manners.

Her eyes didn't leave him, neither did his. She did not know what he was thinking, and she didn't want to know. She didn't know how people worked, never having met a person other than her unstable mother. The only person she knew was herself, but can you honestly say that you know yourself if you haven't met company that brings out other parts of you?

She wondered what his life was like. Was he trapped, was he being "protected" from the evils of the world—or was he a free wanderer?

She didn't know how long she stared at him, but then again he was allowing her to stare at him. "Right, so I will be asking for payback, as I said," she started. He nodded, taking a deep breath. "We should go u-"

"I don't get your deal," he blurted.

"My deal?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Yes, why were you acting so weird about money? And why are you in this tower in the middle of nowhere? Are you a witch?" he asked.

His last sentence was meant to be a joke, and she noticed it as one but she didn't laugh. She didn't want to show any emotions, fearing she would be deemed as weak.

"Well," she started, taking a deep breath herself. Should she really be telling all of this to a person she just met?

Well, too late now.

"My mother doesn't trust anyone and I think that sort of projected on me. So she gave birth to me and hid me here so I wouldn't be attacked or manipulated. And that's also why I want to go to The Outside and see what she's hiding me from. It can't be that bad right? I see the birds chirping from my window and the grass under the tower every day and it kills me that I can't feel it," she ranted, her hands flinging wildly.

Yes, she wasn't telling him the whole picture, how she would say things to her if she didn't sing the song. And yes, she was also hiding from him the fact that she was born bearing magic.

Seeing that her rant was over, Tim tilted his head. "That's a pretty cool origin story if you ask me," he said, once again trying to make her laugh. He was good at trying, she noticed. Giving in, she laughed a bit, not really getting the joke.

She looked at him again, but this time he was smiling widely, proud of his accomplishment. She felt butterflies in the pit of her stomach, or something like that; she had only read this feeling in books after all.

Too oblivious to notice anything else, she smiled back at him, now giving him the advantage of knowing her better. She figured since she was going to go on an adventure with him, she might as well show him some of her soft side.

He stood up, dragging his chair backward in the process. She looked up at him, now standing up as well. "Shall we go to the outside then, m'lady?" he asked, the smile still on his face.

She nodded, but seeing him head towards the main door, said, "Oh no, that's always locked. I have a rope upstairs though."

He had a wild look in his eyes. "W-we're going to slide down a rope?" he asked.

"Well, yeah, there's no other option, really," she said, pointing to his now broken arrows.

He nodded in affirmation although he still seemed nervous.

Seeing him like this made her pity him, so she held his hand in hers, rubbing what she hoped to be comforting circles on the back of his surprisingly warm hand. She didn't know this only made his heartbeat race up ten times faster, she didn't look at his face as his eyes blew wide open. She just smiled slightly and said, "It's okay, I'm sure nothing bad will happen."

She read people doing this in books. She got all of her "people knowledge" from books.

She let go of his hand, walking towards the stairs, silently telling Tim to follow.

She also didn't see the slightly disappointed look he had when she let go.

"Are you sure this is strong enough?" he asked her, genuinely terrified of this too-thin rope.

She nodded quite assuringly, though he wasn't convinced. "Are you scared of heights?" she asked. Her look wasn't of a person trying to tease him, just a genuine question. She probably wouldn't even know what teasing was, he thought.

So he nodded, trying not to let his heartbeat be audible to her. "Well, aren't you afraid of something?" he asked.

"Not really, I haven't experienced anything to be afraid of it," she said, though she did seem a little uncertain. He decided not to pry.

He made a silent promise in his head that he would give her anything if it meant she wouldn't be afraid.

He didn't really want to do this, though. He did not want to take a random girl somewhere to see the "world", or a small part of it, anyway.

But, she helped him so it was only polite to help her too. And besides, if he wanted to, he could just hand her over to some other people and get rid of yet another responsibility in his life.

He also didn't want to address his feelings.

He slowly looked down from her window, still scared. He took in a huge breath and before he could let it out, he heard her whisper, "Do you want to go first?"

Without thinking, he blurted out a "yes." He mentally berated himself for doing this, guessing spontaneity was probably another thing he carried from his childhood.

He didn't even register the fact that (Y/N) was rubbing circles on his back, as his breathing returned to somewhat normal.

He reached out for the rope, gripping it tightly as he slowly climbed out of the window.

One by one, he dragged his feet down, then his hands, then his feet and so on, only concentrating on his breathing, only looking up at the skies and (Y/N)'s head peeking from the window, and soon enough he could feel the small stream flowing below, as he looked down. Only one more step and he could jump and land on the soft, plush grass.

And he did.

He could also hear (Y/N) cheer for him from above, and even though her voice was faint, her excitement was visible.

He smiled widely, pumping his fists above him. He looked up and waved her to climb down as well, and even though only her silhouette was visible, he could imagine her nodding.

He stepped aside and soon enough she dragged herself down the same way he did, though her eyes were glued to the ground. She was barefoot, he realized, and made a mental note to buy her good shoes, if he could afford it from his bit of money he had in his bag.

She stayed there, gripping the rope, her knuckles white, as she stared at the ground that was now close to her. He didn't realize how much this meant to her.

Her foot touched the cool grass as he held his breath.

A wide smile emerged on her face, so wide that he could barely see her eyes, but if he could, he was pretty sure they were sparkling. Her smile was contagious, he found himself smiling as well.

Her other foot slowly touched the ground as well, as she looked around her, seeing the beautiful world, and him.

~~~

sorry for the extremely late updates, school and other things are weighing down at the moment, but I hope you guys like it!!

also for those of you who have requested us anything, we're so sorry for coming up so late with the fics, we promise we'll try to make up for our absense.

also a huge thank you to @mazzell-ro for helping me!!! thank you, from the bottom of my heart <3

-izzy

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello fanfiction #fluff #bohemian rhapsody #gwilym lee #ben hardy #fanfiction #lucy boynton #rami malek #joe mazzello x fem!reader #tangled a.u.#izzy's writing

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cardentist · 4 years

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I’ve talked about how the misconception of hoodie and masky as proxies clashes with the plot of marble hornets before and how the implications of them being interpreted as proxies impacts the themes of tim’s characterization and storyline. (link) that said, I’ve noticed that even people who Know they aren’t proxies still tend to interpret them as more violent or antagonistic than they really are, sometimes still interpreting them as working for or being controlled by the operator.

so ! I wrote up a manifesto rambling on about my thoughts on why hoodie and masky come off as more threatening than they actually are, on what the operator’s influence actually is, and on masky’s role is as an alter. I’m putting it under a readmore for length ! so warning for major spoilers under the cut.

as a note, this is all based on my own understanding of the series, I don’t want to have to write “in my opinion” after everything I say so I’m saying it here fjlsdk

but to start with, I wanna address the idea of hoodie and masky (and even alex) being puppeted by the operator.

troy has gone out of his way to state multiple times that there are no proxies in marble hornets specifically to counter the notion that the operator has direct control of the characters’ actions at any point. the operator can affect people’s moods, their perception of reality, but it can’t puppet people’s actions. They’re in control of themselves even if they aren’t thinking clearly or rationally.

compare jay and alex. they were both unmedicated throughout the series (for the most part), and there’s evidence to suggest that jay was affected by the operator all the way back during the marble hornets shoot (he mentions how cold he feels just like tim, and he doesn’t remember alex’s change in behavior in the present at all), but they both were in Very different places mentally. it isn’t fair to just say that alex was more Violent than jay, we didn’t see much of him pre-operator but we were meant to get the idea that he was just a normal guy, but he had a very different reaction to the operator’s influence.

likewise, brian and tim were both taking medication throughout the series and Very Obviously had different reactions to the operator’s influence (brian self isolating and giving into paranoia while tim tried Very hard to live a normal life and get better despite his lack of support).

if the operator could just control people’s actions then the differences in their personalities and environments wouldn’t have mattered. why bother creating an alter that’s less openly violent than alex was? why leave jay to be self destructive but ultimately harmless when he was vulnerable for so long? if the alters and changes in behavior were caused by a Direct influence by the operator, controlling what they Do rather than just how they feel, then they All should’ve been as murderous as alex was.

personally? I see masky as a protector that stemmed from tim’s childhood trauma. we don’t know exactly what happened for sure, like tim said we’ll never know if what he experienced was the operator or his own schizophrenia or both (or if the difference even matters), but we Do know that from his perspective he was locked in a room with a monster with nowhere to go and with no one to help him. the people who were Supposed to take care of him (his parents, his doctors) were the ones confining him there and he didn’t have anyone else in his life (brian was his first friend). that’s Plenty of reason for DID to occur naturally !

masky’s job as a protector would be to get tim (and the people important to him depending on the situation) away from danger by either fighting or running away, because tim didn’t Have the power to help himself when he needed it. moreover, that’d explain why masky tends to front in response to seizures and being Taken by the operator, it’d be to protect tim from whatever caused the pain (whether it can actually be protected against or not) And to deal with painful memories ! it’s a trauma response because masky exists in response To trauma and tim’s inability to cope with what happened to him on his own

so ! why does masky come off as so intimidating if he’s supposed to be a protector? because he was supposed to ! out of universe, the series was presented out of order with jay getting bits and pieces of what happened to slowly pull together a more complete narrative. hoodie and masky were written to Look like antagonists the first time through (in the same way that alex looked more sympathetic in the beginning), but slowly putting the pieces together makes their actual goals clearer as well as adds context to situations that made them look bad because of how they were presented in release order. this isn’t a failing of the storytelling by any means, we thought they were threatening because Jay thought they were threatening !

and well, in universe obviously part of it is that hoodie and masky are, you know, running around wearing masks and acting shady, especially when you have no idea who they are or what they want. But a lot of times their actions Seem threatening but can either be explained by them purposefully appearing threatening to try to scare jay away from danger/into helping someone Or can be explained by them being affected by the operator in the same way that jay and alex were (more on that later :3c)

this distinction is important because hoodie and masky’s whole goal is to combat alex and the operator ! the operator can make them more aggressive/act out in ways that they otherwise wouldn’t, but it isn’t making them do it’s bidding !

tbh the only thing holding me back from explaining every single instance where hoodie or masky come off as threatening is my own thinning self control, but the fact that I haven’t yet means that I have limited examples jlksfd. that said ! I can think of a couple!

the most obvious example of them being threatening on purpose was entry ####, when hoodie and masky stopped speaking in codes for the first time and made an overtly threatening video saying in no uncertain terms that they were coming to “get” jay just before the season 1 finale. They even posted it on His channel so he couldn’t ignore it. they Knew alex was going to go after jay, but they also knew that alex was watching him and watching them. if they warned him that alex was the one coming for him then alex wouldn’t make his move and would wait until jay was vulnerable again (plus the risk of him just not Believing them since at this point he had no reason to think that alex was truly dangerous). so they made Themselves the threat and scared jay out of his apartment before alex could burn him alive in it.

an example of them appearing threatening because of Circumstance and how the story was told is actually one series of events split up into several parts ! chronologically it starts with entry 52. alex invites jay and jessica into the woods, holds them at gunpoint, and tries to shoot them only to be tackled by masky. jessica and jay manage to run away and meet up at a hotel only to be tracked down by the operator. jay tackles it and he and jessica are knocked out and have their memories wiped.

then jay wakes up in entry 27 with no idea what’s happened, and posts about exactly that to his youtube channel. both alex and totheark have been paying attention to jay’s channel and they both find out that jay and jessica are vulnerable at the same time. they don’t know exactly where jay and jessica are right off the bat, but jay made it clear that he wasn’t going anywhere. so it’s a race against the clock to see who can get to them first while not drawing any unwanted attention.

finally it’s jessica’s disappearance, split between entry 33 and 76! jay has Just posted about how he’s gonna leave with jessica to try to figure things out, and hoodie and masky both know that if alex had already found the hotel then that would’ve push him into action. So that’s what leads to 76 with hoodie and masky grabbing jessica to try to get her out of danger. masky carries her down the stairs and then sets her down outside before heading back into the hotel.

Cutting to entry 33, that’s when he confronts jay in his hotel room. At the time it Looked like he was attacking jay because we didn’t have the context, but this was Immediately following him trying to save jessica and him Successfully saving them from alex shooting them. Moreover, he didn’t actually try to hit or overpower jay (and considering he just finished carrying a grown unconscious woman over his shoulders down the stairs he definitely could’ve).

What’s more likely is that hoodie was going to carry jessica to safety while masky carried jay, and he only Didn’t because jay was conscious to fight him off. (why jessica was unconscious probably has to do with why jay and jessica lost their memories in the first place and why jessica didn’t seem to think anything was off at the end of the series, that’s to say that slenderman wanted alex to get to them and was likely thrown by hoodie and masky’s presence). masky was hauling ass because he was trying to get to jay before alex did and he was taken off guard by the fact that jay wasn’t out like jessica was !

so then back to 76! jessica wakes up and hoodie tries to help her through the woods only to get shot at by alex, alex tricks her into trusting him and tries to convince her that they’re both hoodie’s victims. when alex tries to take his second chance to kill her she grabs his gun and hoodie comes to beat his ass ! hoodie stayed close when he ran off so he could catch alex off guard ! Unfortunately the operator gets to her while they’re fighting each other off. it’s unclear exactly what happens but jessica gets taken and we see alex put his gun away. personally I think jessica was knocked out rather than shot and he was just retrieving it from her before she got taken (seeing as she’s still alive by the end of the series) though what happened to hoodie isn’t exactly clear beyond the fact that he lived.

so ! to put all of that shorter fjdksl hoodie and masky’s goal here was to protect jay and jessica from alex. masky came to stop alex from shooting them the first time and they both tracked jessica and jay down after they lost their memories because they knew alex would take the opportunity to try to kill them again. masky not being able to grab jay (or more accurately, getting throttled by jay jldsf) meant that he wasn’t there to help hoodie defend jessica against alex leading to her getting taken anyways. but it scared jay into escaping the hotel without having to encounter alex himself. That’s why jay said he understood. it isn’t just that tim had no control over his alter’s actions, it was that masky and hoodie Looked threatening but were actually trying to help. It’s just that tim had no way to know that when he found the tape originally.

and finally ! what I think is an example of masky coming off as threatening because of the operator’s influence, but specifically on Mood rather than action! This being the events of entry 61 and 62!

Hoodie wants to force jay and tim to team up, and he does so by acting as the villain to get jay to move again (while he had masky pose in front of the camera before it’s more likely that he planned and edited entry ####). He takes tim’s pills, tim goes into a seizure, the video cuts out, and hoodie tells jay to go find him. this is followed by masky attacking jay in the woods and them both waking up in the abandoned house in rosswood.

now before I say anything else, let's contrast this with jay in entry 82 and 77. jay tries to stake out the rosswood tunnel (the last place jessica was seen in the tape before she disappeared), and after not finding anything he calls tim to apologize, tell him that he understood, and to say he wanted to work with him again. He’s scared and he says that he thinks he’s seeing things, he Specifically sees the same abandoned building that they woke up in during 62 Moving Closer to him. Jay then has a seizure, the video cuts out, and tim never gets the phone call. the next time we see jay chronologically is 77, where he comes to tim with zip ties and his (piddly) pocket knife to try to “interrogate” him about jessica.

we don’t see exactly what happened to him after the video cuts out, but we know whatever it was affected his memory, made him far more aggressive and paranoid, and played into his anxiety and fears notching them up to 11 (like him shouting that it “wouldn’t have been (his) fault” when tim says that jessica is gone playing into the fact that jay blames himself for losing jessica when she was one room over).

it’s the exact same situation with masky. 61 and 62 follows tim and jay’s blowout in the parking lot and jay sharing tim’s medical records online. at this point tim had a lot of anxiety and frustration surrounding jay. so when masky woke up after tim’s seizure, shaken up by the operator, he saw jay as a threat to tim’s safety in the same way that jay saw Tim as a threat keeping him from finding jessica. the operator is Most Likely responsible for teleporting them both to the abandoned house and teleporting masky specifically to the woods !

the operator causing aggression is pretty much a constant ! though how much a specific person reacts to it depends on the situation, the amount of exposure they’ve had and how recent it was, and how much Help the person has access to (like medication, support, and solidarity). alex became an Extremely aggressive person, and it wasn’t just because of the stress of the situation. he self isolated and didn’t have access to medication. he fell into paranoia and catastrophizing, deciding that everyone around him either deserved to be mercy killed to save them from the operator or saw them as a threat spreading the sickness to other people.

That’s why he went easier on jay at first. He was trying to kill him from the beginning, but he tolerated more from him because he saw jay as someone that needed to be saved from his fate. It isn’t until his mental health declined even further and jay continued to get in his way that his attitude changed, giving us who he was at the very end.

we also know that audio/visual glitches are signs of the operator, and you’ll notice the audio glitching when people yell Throughout the series. the three standouts for me being alex yelling “I’ll kill you” after hoodie and masky try to smash his head in with a rock, tim yelling “but what if I’m right” while he’s spiraling thinking about how he could’ve been the cause of all of this while telling jay about his backstory, and jay yelling “I need it” after tim refuses to leave the camera for him when jay is zip tied on the floor.

the operator causes paranoia and aggression as a baseline, it just affects everyone to different degrees at different times depending on their access to help and how direct the operator is being with its influence, hoodie and masky are no different !

that doesn’t make their actions Okay, alex isn’t off the hook for Murder, but it does make them all Victims and it does mean that they deserved help (think back to tim offering to help alex during their final confrontation, even after everything).

All of that to say ! while hoodie and masky come off as threatening, their overall goals are to be helpful, they just tend to act extremely because of the situation they’re in on top of dealing with the same operator-influenced aggression and paranoia that everyone else is trying to manage. This is only emphasized by the method of storytelling deliberately obscuring the order of events to make them appear more threatening than they really are on top of their own attempts to scare jay out of harm's way.

I’ve gone on just, frankly way too long. so ! if you’re interested in more meta about how mental illness ties into the core Themes of marble hornets as well as misconceptions in the fandom (and specifically some dunking on night mind’s masky theory jlkfsd) I have a google doc where I’ve been just, chewing on it here (link)

it’s written like it’s laying out points for a response video that I’m frankly never gonna make, but I’ve been putting off making a post about it instead for This Exact Reason (this post is just over 5 pages in google docs jlkfds). and if you’d like to do more research on DID and OSDD there’s an Excellent playlist with resources ! the uploader has OSDD and they have other playlists as well that are worth checking out too ^^ (link)

#marble hornets #slenderverse #creepypasta #masky marble hornets #tim wright #hoody marble hornets #brian thomas #alex kralie #jay merrick #meta #I don't know what the tags for this should be so I'm just throwing everything at it jklsfd #reposting this so more people can actually see it #it's way too long to keep it to replies jlkfsda

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iwillsithereandtrytocontribute · 3 years

Text

No Happy Ending

Masterlist Ao3

Pairings: Implied Lyfrassir Edda/Marius Von Raum

Warnings: Major character death, Mechanisms-typical threatened violence, Coughing blood, Thoughts of suicide,

Don’t worry, I don’t describe the death in a ton of detail, but be warned.

This is my first fic for the Mechanisms fandom. I was listening to The Bifrost Incident again and thought "Hey I've seen a bunch of content where Lyf survives and meets/joins the Mechanisms. What if they didn't survive?" And because I had to deal with that thought (it's a Mechanisms album let's be real) now you get an hour's worth of straight stream of consciousness. Enjoy! :)

“Log of Lyfrassir Edda Inspector- oh that doesn’t matter anymore I suppose. Just Lyf then if anyone actually listens to these when I’m gone.” Lyf coughed wetly into their hand and stared somewhat disinterestedly at the blood that splattered across it. They took a moment to catch their breath. “This will be my final entry I imagine. None of the ship’s functions have worked correctly in weeks.

“First it was the-” they were cut off by a sudden blur in their vision. It took a moment for Lyf to realize they were still holding the recorder. “The navigation systems went down first, then one by one various systems shut down or broke. I am nearly out of food and water and the oxygen pumps stopped almost an hour ago.”

Lyf stared at their hands, shaking and covered in their own blood. “I know I was touched by the outer gods. Even I wasn’t fast enough to escape their grasp completely. But I know they will not save me. I wouldn’t want them to if they could. Perhaps in a moment of weakness I would fall to them as Odin did, but here in the cold of space I don’t even have the option. It’s for the best.”

They gazed at the sputtering lights around them, the broken gauges and stuck knobs. They had been tempted just to end it many times, but something always stopped them. If Lyf had been more foolish or perhaps just slightly less stern they might have called it hope. Hope that they could flee and survive. That they could take advantage of the gift Loki and Sigyn had given the Yggdrasil System with their lives. But they were austere as ever and chalked up their perseverance to nothing but fear of dying.

And Lyf was afraid to die. Even here, even now, as they felt the end approaching as they had for weeks now. They were afraid. They realized the log was still running. They might as well spend their last hours leaving something to be remembered by.

“The recordings of my findings and the events of the Bifrost incident are all here. You may even have listened to them if you’re listening to this. I sincerely doubt there will be anything left of my home system, not after what Odin released there. They might even leave there one day, consume the rest of everything. It doesn’t matter. I’ll be long dead.” Lyf laughed. A short bitter laugh that turned into another wracking cough.

“I didn’t have much on Asgard to be perfectly honest. No family to speak of, few friends. The one constant I had were those blasted Mechanisms. I suppose they’re the reason I lasted long enough to make it all the way out here instead of being trapped in that psychedelic hellscape. They’re the reason I asked for a transfer from the prison to transport police. The amount of violins I confiscated from Marius,” Lyf said as an afterthought.

“They always disappeared not long after I left them. I guess Von Raum and the others could always have escaped. They must have wanted another story .” Lyf put more malice in their voice than they felt. It was hard to feel real anger towards the Mechanisms, other than maybe Jonny. He was a piece of work, Lyf thought with a grimace. Jonny had taken the longest to capture and the most work to contain and recapture. Everyone knew- had known someone who’d been killed or injured by Jonny d’Ville. Lyf couldn’t say they had any love for the man.

Ivy, they could respect. She was incredibly logical in a way they found endearing. Raphaella la Cognizi scared them. True, Lyf had a ton of respect for her, but she was the closest thing they had ever known to a mad scientist before Odin. Brian was nice, as was Marius when he wasn’t being an idiot. Lyf had only called him Von Raum to annoy him, so Marius had responded in kind. A smile tugged at the edges of Lyf’s lips even as they struggled with each breath they took. Ashes and Tim scared him the normal way. The “We will destroy everyone and everything you love with a smile if you wrong us” way. Stay on their good side, and they’re nice enough. And the Toy Soldier… Lyf didn’t like thinking about the Toy Soldier. It unsettled them.

Lyf wasn’t sure how much of that they’d said aloud, if they had said any of it. Oxygen deprivation was really getting to them. They gave a tired smirk at the monitor above them as if any of the cameras still worked. “If the Mechanisms ever get ahold of these my message to you is; fuck you ,” they said with feeling, before doubling over in another coughing fit.

“I don’t have much-any time left,” Lyf rasped. “I-I Lyfrassir Edda signing off for what is likely the last time.”

They clicked off the recorder and set it down on the table by the chair they were sitting in, next to a small pile of similar recorders. Lyf took the deepest breath their air-deprived lungs would allow and closed their eyes.

In the greatest mercy the universe would ever bestow upon Lyfrassir Edda, it allowed them to die in their sleep. One might even have been able to call it peaceful.

Drumbot Brian stood on the bridge trying to puzzle out where that beeping was coming from. Nastya had added a lot of systems to Aurora before she left and well… Brian hadn’t had nearly long enough to learn them all. Finally he managed to find it. Ah a radar… thingy. He wasn’t really a pilot. Why was he the pilot? He would be much better as the doctor seeing as resurrection was his thing. Brian made a note to bring it up with Jonny or maybe Ashes seeing as they were the quartermaster (not that they ever did any quartermaster-like duties). The increase in beeping brought Brian out of his thoughts. That looked like a ship. Floating in the middle of nowhere?

Brian shrugged and left to go find Jonny. He always threw a fuss if he wasn’t the first one notified of anything and Jonny throwing a fuss generally led to him quite literally shooting the messenger. Brian didn’t much feel like dying today.

He found Jonny in the library, which was strange. He typically avoided books like a plague and Ivy hated having Jonny in there. Jonny gestured Brian over as soon as he saw him.

“Come on. Come on ,” Jonny whispered furiously as Brian took his time walking to him.

“Who are you hiding from this time?” Brian asked loudly. Jonny glared daggers at him. Ah well, he was starting to think antagonizing Jonny today would be worth getting shot.

“Ashes. I might have stolen their favorite hat.”

“So you’re hiding in the library.”

Jonny gave Brian a knowing look. A look that made Brian wish he had the eyebrows to express his disdain, because that look said that Jonny thought he was doing something really clever. 8 times out of 10 he was wrong and the other 2 times ended up with someone dying. “Exactly. Ashes is banned from the library, too much flammable materials or something or other.”

“That’s why you’re banned from the library too.”

“Exactly why it’s the best hiding spot.” Jonny peeked around the corner at the sound of footsteps outside, hand over the gun at his side. He caught a glimpse of Raphaella’s wings as she passed the open doorway.

In the split second Jonny was turned away, and therefore less distracting, Brain remembered he had for once actually been looking for Jonny. And that it might be somewhat urgent. Oops.

“Uh Jonny?”

“Uh-huh. What?” Jonny wasn’t paying attention to him.

“There’s a transport ship outside.”

That got Jonny’s attention. “Any idea who?” he asked with a grin that meant he was in the mood to shoot someone. Brian shrugged inwardly, as long as that person wasn’t him.

“No clue. Looks familiar, but I can’t place it.”

“Lovely.” Fight with Ashes forgotten, Jonny strode out of the library whistling Tales to Be Told and Brian walking just behind him.

They arrived at the bridge to find the ship had drifted even closer, or maybe the Aurora had gotten closer, it was hard to tell. Jonny studied it for a long time before snapping his fingers a couple times as he tried to remember where he remembered it from.

“That’s from As-as something.”

“Asgard?” Brian asked. Jonny nodded.

“That’s the one.” He put his foot up on Brian’s chair and rested his elbow on his knee. “Wonder what it’s doing he- Hey Brian, when are we in relation to the whole Yggdrasil system collapse thing. The Bifrost Incident? We were going to make a new album out of that story right?”

Brian checked one of the monitors, halfway surprised that Johnny remembered the Yggdrasil System. Although, to be fair, they’d been there for almost a century and even he couldn’t be drunk the entire time (events 300 or so years in the future ago were outliers and so could not be counted).

“We’re a couple months after. Why? You think someone escaped the train?��

Jonny shrugged. “No idea, but we might as well get the rest of the crew up here.” He turned and pressed a couple buttons until he found the comms. “Crew of the Aurora,” he exclaimed with his usual gusto, “this is your Captain speaking.”

“FIRST MATE!” They heard Tim scream at the top of his lungs from the armory. The armory wasn’t too far from the bridge and damn could Tim scream.

“ Captain. We’ve found something rather interesting, a transport vessel from the Yggdrasil System. If anyone would like to come with us to take a look get up to the bridge. You have five minutes.” Jonny poked a couple more buttons until it seemed like the comms had shut off.

It wasn’t long before they were joined by Tim, Marius, Ashes, and the Toy Soldier.

“We didn’t invite you,” Jonny sneered at the Toy Soldier.

“I’m just happy to be included!” the Toy Soldier said happily, oblivious as ever. Johnny rolled his eyes.

“Right. Can we dock it or something?” Ashes asked, leaning on the door-frame with their hands in the pockets.

“Aurora?” Brian asked tentatively. The Aurora was unreliable at the best of times and now that the only person she would always listen to was gone, she was testier than she’d ever been. Still, they heard the satisfying clunk and hiss of the airlocks attaching and sealing. The doors slid open to reveal a small ship.

Close as they were, it was clearly Asgardian design, all sleek edges and intricate grooves. For a transport vessel, it was decent quality although obviously not built for the kind of travel it had been doing. Jonny stepped in first. Well… his gun went in first while the rest of him followed. The Toy Soldier trotted in behind him and the rest followed in a sort of amorphous blob.

There was just enough space for the 6 of them to fit in the largest of the two rooms. Everywhere they looked was broken equipment, a frankly impressive array of destruction for this thing to have gotten as far as it had when it wasn’t built for out-of-system travel.

“There’s no way anyone from that system could have survived this much system failure,” Brian whispered as if the likely dead person in the other room could hear them.

“They could have been, what was it? ‘Touched by the outer gods?’” Jonny asked.

“Who came up with that line?” Ashes snorted.

“Me,” Marius said distractedly as he moved towards the table by the door. There was a small mound of recorders on it. He pressed play on one of them. The sudden sound made everyone jump. Then they heard it.

“Log of Inspector Second Class Lyfrassir Edda New Midgard Transport Police. I was able to barter for a transport ship. I’ve spent most of my savings on this, food, water, and fuel. I have some left over that will hopefully last me until I can find work in another system. Already things have begun going wrong. I brought my recordings of the Bifrost incident with me, I don’t think anyone will believe if I didn’t, and attached to the last one are some messages we’ve been receiving on various frequencies from everywhere in the system.

I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving. I just left a copy of the recordings and got out of there as quickly as possible. I think I escaped the worst of it, though the nightmares I’ve been having are certainly nothing of this world.

If I don’t stop, I might survive this. I might survive this.

Log ends.”

The Mechs stared at each other for a moment before Marius shoved his way forward and thrust open the door. In the pilot’s seat sat Lyf, their eyes closed, blood spattered about the small room. Their uniform was long past wrinkled and blood-stained. Their dark skin was the palest Marius had ever seen from them.

Marius had seen war. He had been through horrors, and committed such atrocities in kind. He had thought that his many centuries of mechanization would have made him desensitized to death by now, and it had. But it was so much easier to come to terms with Lyf’s death when they weren’t laying in front of him, covered in their own blood. This touched him deeply, in a way he couldn’t remember feeling before.

He didn’t remember walking to the medical bay, but he must have because here he was. Lyf lay on the table that they usually put their dead crewmates on to wait for the resurrection process, but there would be no resurrection process.

Raphaella had come in sometime during the time Marius had been in there and given her verdict. Lyf could not be mechanized. They had been dead too long and even if they hadn’t been, the touch of the outer gods would not have allowed for mechanization.

And Marius was alone again.

Alone with a corpse that would never walk again. That would never tell him, and Marius smiled slightly at the memory, to shut the fuck up and put the goddamn violin away, again. Lyfrassir Edda was gone. For good.

They listened to the tapes. All of them. All of the Mechanisms had known Lyf and most of them had even liked them. Besides, they weren’t entirely cruel and oblivious. They knew this was something Marius needed. Not to mention it helped with the whole album-writing part of their gig.

Marius listened to those tapes. He listened to them over and over again until he had them memorized. Well, except for the final recording. It hurt too much to listen to it more than once.

Marius always had the one of them that approached immortality with the most skepticism of the Mechanisms. How disappointing that he had been right.

Let me know what you think! If you like to be tagged in other works in this fandom (or others) or have any questions my inbox is open. Stay safe! :)

#the mechs #the mechanisms #lyfrassir edda #drumbot brian #marius von raum #ivy alexandria #raphaella la cognizi #gunpowder tim #ashes o'reilly #the toy soldier #the bifrost incident #jasper writes #jonny d'ville

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rushingheadlong · 4 years

Text

Love Him From Where You Are - A Maylor Fic

Summary: Five times Roger was sure that Brian didn’t love him, and one time he knew that he did.

Wordcount: ~7,200

Tags/Warnings: H/C, pining, early Queen, some vague allusions to sex but nothing explicit

Notes: Written for @meddows-taylor for the LOC Event hosted by @dtfrogertaylor! I had so much fun working on this fic even if I had to scramble to finish it in time! I hope you still like it (and can forgive any spelling/grammar mistakes I might have missed).

ETA: Now posted to AO3 here.

1968

“He doesn’t swing that way, you know.”

Roger, who had been looking out the window of the small pub where Smile just finished playing a gig, glances over at Tim. The comment came out of nowhere and Roger isn’t feigning confusion when he says, “The fuck are you talking about?”

Tim has his head propped up on one hand, his other tapping against the tabletop. He had left the stage full of energy and riding the high of their show, as they all had, but now he’s quieter and a little withdrawn as he glances out over the room instead of looking directly at Roger. “Brian. He’s not interested in men.”

Roger’s heart leaps into his throat as he suddenly, painfully, is all too aware of what Tim is hinting at. “Still don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lies as he reaches for his drink with a hand that’s not quite as steady as he wants it to be.

“Yeah, I’m sure you don’t,” Tim says dryly. He’s still not really looking at Roger, which the drummer appreciates, because it makes it easier to listen when Tim keeps talking. “I’ve known Brian for a little while now. Four, five years maybe? Long enough that I’ve seen him in plenty of social situations to know where his interests lie. He may be shit at talking to girls, but at least he talks to ‘em. I’ve never, not once, seen him even look twice at a guy.”

“And you’re telling me this because…?”

“Because I don’t want you to get hurt,” Tim says. He finally looks over at Roger and Roger knows that he wasn’t slick enough to keep the look of genuine surprise off his face. Tim smiles at him, a little crookedly but still sincere enough, and adds, “Listen, Rog, whatever - or whoever - you do in your free time, I don’t give a shit. Really couldn’t care less. But you’re a good guy and I don’t want you to get your hopes up chasing something that’s never going to happen.”

Roger takes another sip of his drink and mulls over the bassist’s words. He hasn’t known Tim for very long, all things considered, but Roger can’t think of a single reason why he would lie about this. He doesn’t stand anything to gain from it - Roger has seen Tim go home with plenty of girls since joining Smile to know where he stands - and it’s clear from the tone and secrecy of the conversation that he’s not trying to humiliate Roger either.

That doesn’t stop Roger from being embarrassed, though. He knew that his growing crush on his bandmate wasn’t going to lead anywhere good, but he at least thought that he was hiding it well.

“Does he know?” Roger asks after a moment. He’s dreading Tim’s answer, but if Brian has also picked up on this he’d rather know about it now so he can quit the band and disappear before having to face the humiliation of Brian trying to gently let him down.

Tim laughs outright at the question, which is enough of an answer even before he says, “Mate, you could tell Brian that you fancy him to his face and I still don’t think he’d really understand what you’re saying. Trust me, he doesn’t know anything.”

Roger snorts and mutters, “Yeah, that sounds about right for him,” before draining the rest of his glass.

Part of him wishes that Brian wasn’t so oblivious to social advances from others, because then he could just flirt with the guitarist to figure out if Brian returned his interest - but if what Tim is saying is true and Brian isn’t interested in men at all, then it’s probably for the best that Brian won’t know about Roger’s feelings. At least they’re both spared the embarrassment of it all, that way.

“He-ey!” Brian says loudly as he finally rejoins them at the table with the next round of drinks, which he sets down so roughly that the beer sloshes over the side of the glasses.

“Watch it, May!” Tim says with a laugh as he pushes one of the drinks over to Roger and takes one for himself. “Christ, you’re such a fucking lightweight.”

“Am not,” Brian says with a laugh as he practically falls into the seat next to Roger. His shoulder knocks into Roger’s as Brian reaches for his drink, and Roger prays that his face isn’t as flushed as it feels. “Just had a few shots at the bar, that’s all.”

“And you didn’t bring any back for us?” Roger mock-complains, trying to ignore the way that Brian’s leg is pressed against his own.

“Wasn’t buying them for myself,” Brian says. His voice is slurred from the shots he took - or were given to him - at the bar but his smile is small and pleased, like the cat that stole the cream.

It’s not a look that Roger is used to seeing from Brian, and clearly the alcohol is to thank for it now, but he still finds Brian’s almost-smug expression unbearably attractive. Roger wants to kiss it off his face and lick into Brian’s mouth until he can taste the vodka from those shots himself - but he stops those thoughts before he can let himself get too carried away, and distracts himself with his drink as Tim leers at Brian and asks, “Are you gonna go home with her, then?”

Brian pauses with his own glass halfway to his mouth and looks genuinely confused as he says, “What?”

Tim throws his head back and laughs, loud and raucous, and after a moment Brian falls into a fit of drunken giggling as well. “You really are fucking hopeless, Bri,” Tim says with an exasperated shake of his head.

“Am not,” Brian mumbles. He slouches against Roger, and Roger knows that he should elbow him away… but he doesn’t. Not even when Brian nuzzles against Roger’s shoulder and his hair brushes against Roger’s neck, and Roger has to shift to relieve the growing tightness in his jeans.

Brian is just drunk, he tells himself. This doesn't mean anything.

“Yeah,” Tim says, locking eyes with Roger and giving him a knowing - and slightly pitying - look. “You honestly are.”

1970

Tim leaves the band with very little fanfare, all things considered. They’ve just finished a gig and Brian and Roger are each a few drinks in when Tim hits them with the news. Later, Roger will remember that Tim hadn’t been drinking himself and he’ll wonder if Tim’s unusual sobriety was supposed to be a warning that something was coming - but in the moment, Roger just feels so gobsmacked by the announcement that he’s not thinking much of anything at all.

“You can’t leave,” Brian says, and the response would sound automatic if there wasn’t a hint of panic behind his words. “You can’t- Tim, please.”

“I’m sorry, Brian.” The apology sounds sincere but there’s no remorse in Tim’s eyes as he stands and drains the rest of his drink. “I have to give this a go.”

“Tim,” Brian says as the bassist starts to walk away and then, louder, “Tim!’

Roger’s ears are still ringing with static but he finally finds his voice enough to say, “Brian, let him go.”

“No!” Brian says, shaking his head frantically. “No, we need him, we need to get him back-”

“We can find another singer,” Roger cuts in. Brian’s frantic energy is making Roger’s heart race uncomfortably fast in his chest, but he tries to stay calm enough to reason with his friend. “Another bassist, we can- Brian, we can still make this work without him.”

“We can’t!” Brian snaps, and the frustration and anger in his voice feels like a slap in the face to Roger, even though he knows it’s not directed at him. “For fuck’s sake, I’m only still playing because he was the one who wanted to form a new band!”

Roger feels like someone dumped a bucket of ice water down his spine. “What the hell are you saying?”

Brian downs the rest of his drink and stands up, muttering, “Sorry, Rog, I just- I need some space.”

“Brian, no, c’mon,” Roger tries to reach for Brian’s arm but the guitarist pulls it out of his reach and, without a backwards glance towards Roger, he too walks away.

The night goes a little hazy from there, details lost in a blur of alcohol and self-pity and loneliness. Smile was the best thing going for Roger at the moment and losing the band stings, but the memory of Brian pulling away from him, walking away, leaving him makes Roger’s entire chest ache with a pain that doesn’t go away, no matter how much he drinks.

I need some space, Brian had said, but Roger needs him. He needs Brian at his side, he needs to know that their friendship is going to survive this, he needs to know that things will be alright even if it feels like his world is crumbling around him…

But, apparently, Brian doesn’t need him.

Somehow, Roger makes it home that night. He knows this only because he wakes up on the sofa in the flat he shares with Freddie and recognizes his surroundings in the split-second before the after-effects of the previous night slam into him like a freight train. Roger doesn’t even try to make it to the bathroom, just leans over the side of the sofa and empties the contents of his stomach onto the living room floor.

Or what should be the living room floor. A wastebasket is moved under the line of fire at the last second and a gentle hand brushes Roger’s hair out of his face as he heaves until his stomach aches as much as the pounding in his skull and there are tears and snot dripping down his face.

“Easy, Rog, you’re alright,” a familiar voice says, though it’s not Freddie. Whoever it is wipes a damp washcloth over Roger’s face and helps him lie back down on the sofa, and it’s only then that Roger sees that, for some reason, Brian is the one taking care of him.

“What are you doing here?” he tries to ask, though talking is difficult and it comes out sounding more like Whatru d’ng hrr?

Luckily Brian seems to be able to understand Roger’s slurred words because he smiles, a little uncertainly, and says, “Freddie let me in. I wanted to apologize for running off last night and talk to you about finding a new singer for Smile… but that all can wait until you’re less hungover.”

There are a dozen questions bouncing around Roger’s mind at that, each one only aggravating his headache more until he feels nauseous from the pain all over again, and he settles for mumbling a simple “‘kay” rather than trying to voice any of them.

Brian brushes Roger’s hair out of his face again, and then his hand moves away and he stands up - and Roger whines, reaching out for him like he did last night, only this time he lets slip a quiet, “Stay” that he knows he’ll regret later.

Brian chuckles, though it’s not malicious, and says, “I’m just getting you some water, Rog. I don’t want my friend dying of dehydration on me today.”

Friend.

Right.

That’s what they are, after all. Just friends, no matter that in this moment of miserable vulnerability Roger wants to pretend that they could be more. He wants to pretend that Brian’s gentle touches hold hidden depths, that his familiarity with the tiny flat is because he’s the one who lives here with Roger rather than Freddie, that Brian is taking care of him because he loves him and not because it’s the sort of thing that the kind-hearted bastard would do for any of his friends… but he knows none of that will ever be true.

So while Brian fetches a glass of water Roger shores up his heart, pushes down his useless feelings that have spiraled out of control while he wasn’t paying attention, and tells himself to be thankful that Brian didn’t walk out of his life altogether last night alongside Tim. Brian will only ever be his friend, and getting upset at the truth of that won’t change things - no matter how much he wishes that it could.

1971

The studio is cold. Roger isn’t sure whether it’s just the chill of the London winter permeating through everything, like it does with his flat and the market stall and their practice room at Imperial College, or if the studio managers don’t feel like wasting the money by heating the place during the off-hours, never mind that that’s the only time Queen can record.

Some nights the kettle sees more use than Roger’s drum kit as they spend hours recording Brian’s guitar parts or singing backing vocals until no amount of tea can keep their throats from rasping painfully with every breath of dry, cold air. It’s a long, tiring grind but none of them complain because they all know that this demo will be their chance to finally make it.

(Roger tries not to think about how Smile had recorded demos as well, and how little that meant when Tim got a better offer and walked away. This is different - he knows it is, even if it’s sometimes hard to see that in the early hours of the morning with too little progress to show for a night spent hard at work.)

Freddie sits down next to Roger and slumps tiredly against him, and Roger debates pushing him away for a moment before deciding that he doesn’t have the energy to really care. Besides, Freddie is warm against his side and they’ll all have to get back to recording soon enough, once John returns from wherever he’s disappeared to… and once Chrissie says goodbye to Brian and leaves the studio.

That relationship is new, still in the honeymoon phase, and given what Roger knows of Brian’s schedule he can’t imagine they manage to see much of each other most days. So it makes sense for her to stop by the recording studio in the evenings to catch up with Brian while they all take a break, but Roger hates it.

It’s not even that he hates her. From the few conversations they’ve had, she certainly seems like a nice enough girl and Brian is smitten enough to turn Roger’s stomach. But he still hates seeing the two of them together. He hates the soft smile that Brian gives her. He hates the way she curls up against Brian’s side when they cuddle on the couch. He hates their flirty giggles and Chrissie’s gentle fussing and the kisses they steal when they think no one is watching.

And Roger hates that he can’t stop watching them. He tries, god, he tries to focus on anything else… but his eyes keep drifting back to the couple - no, to Brian.

To Brian’s hands, lingering on her waist, thumbs pushing her shirt up just enough to brush across bare skin. To Brian’s hair, now grown out and starting to curl again, and how he has to push it out of his face before he leans down to kiss her. To Brian’s mouth, his chapped lips and the way his tongue darts out to lick at them, and to the curve of his nose when he nuzzles at her neck, and to his long legs, spread wide so she can sit between them, fitting against Brian like she was meant to be there.

Roger wonders if they would fit together just as well, if it was him in Brian’s arms instead of her. He wonders if John would fondly roll his eyes at them, or if Freddie would crack innuendos between takes when they couldn’t keep their eyes off each other… Roger wonders what it would be like to really be able to look at Brian, to stare openly at him instead of stealing glances out of the corner of his eyes, because Brian would be his and not hers.

The impossibility of it all still stings, but after all these years there’s a familiarity to the pain that Roger can’t let go of, like a sore tooth that he keeps worrying at with his tongue long after the point where he should stop.

“You might want to stop staring at Chrissie all the time, darling, unless you’re looking for a fight with Brian,” Freddie says out of the blue. Roger drags his eyes away from the couple and over to Freddie. The singer’s tone was mild when he spoke but there’s a slight furrow in his brows that belies his true concern.

“Wasn’t staring at her,” Roger says. “Just zoned out.”

“Hmm,” Freddie hums. “You do seem to zone out quite a bit when she’s around, though.”

Roger sighs, and shrugs Freddie off his shoulder. “Piss off, Fred,” he says, though there’s no heat behind it. “I’m not fucking staring at Chrissie, I promise.”

“So it’s just coincidence then?” Freddie challenges. Roger doesn’t bother responding to that and Freddie huffs a little and says, “Fine. But don’t come to me when Brian-” He cuts off with a sharp inhale and Roger knows that his charade is up, even before Freddie says, more tentatively than before, “Rog, are you…?”

“Does it matter?” Roger cuts in, before Freddie can finish the question that Roger doesn’t want to hear. “He has Chrissie now.”

“It seems to matter an awful lot to you,” Freddie says softly. “Did you ever say something to him?”

Roger knows that Freddie isn’t likely to let the subject go now that he’s started it so he steals himself and musters up the energy to confess, “No. There was never any point in saying anything, because I didn’t think he was interested in men.”

There’s a beat of silence before Freddie asks, “Are you quite sure about that, dear?”

Roger closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall behind him. He feels tired down to his very bones, and it’s not entirely due to the lateness of the hour. “No,” he admits. Tim had seemed certain of that, back at the beginning, but Roger has spent too long watching Brian from afar and he’s not sure of anything anymore. “But even if he is, he’s not interested in me.”

“How can you know that if you never said anything-”

“Because it’s been three years, Fred,” Roger interrupts. “Three years of looking at him, and he’s never once looked back.”

It’s another several moments before Freddie speaks again, and all he offers up is a quiet, “I’m sorry, Rog.”

Roger doesn’t look at him and pretends that he didn’t hear the comment at all - and this time, Freddie lets the conversation drop.

Later, after Chrissie leaves and John wanders back in so they can return to recording, Brian crosses the room and holds a large thermos out to Roger. “Do you want this?” he asks. “It’s coffee, Chrissie brought it in, but if I drink it I won’t get any sleep before my class in the morning.”

Brian has a lopsided half-smile on his face, a little tired but still full of the same fond affection that he’s always shown Roger. It’s nothing like the look he gives to Chrissie, but Roger cherishes it nonetheless because this one at least is his.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks,” Roger says with a small grin of his own, one that manages to stay casual even as his heart skips a beat only because he’s had years to perfect it.

Brian’s smile widens, just a little, just for a moment, before he leaves to grab his guitar. Roger looks down at the thermos in his hands and can see the spot where Brian already took a sip, before he realized it was coffee and not the less-caffeinated tea that he usually prefers at this hour. He stares at it, at that faint mark along the rim, and when he takes a drink he presses his lips over the same spot, letting himself pretend that it could mean something, anything, at all.

And across the room Freddie watches him with sad, knowing eyes that Roger can’t quite bring himself to meet as he starts tapping out the beat to their next song.

1973

They stagger into the hotel late only to find a mistake with their reservations - instead of their usual arrangement of two rooms each with two single beds, the hotel can only give them a queen bed for one of the rooms. They take the keys with no small amount of resignation, and make their way to elevator where they ride up to their floor in silence, the the four of them looking at each other with varying degrees of exhaustion and none of them eager to volunteer to share a bed at the end of a nightmarishly long day of travel and performing.

Brian is the first to relent with a small sigh as he says, “I’ll take the queen room. I’m not tired enough to sleep yet and I’ll probably be up reading for some time anyway.”

It’s a practical suggestion, but one that makes the cards fall into place in the worst arrangement possible. Freddie is starting to come down with a head cold, and needs this chance to get some proper rest before their next gig - but Roger, after sharing so many rooms with John, knows that the bassist can’t sleep if any lights are left on at all.

Roger, the only one who isn’t sick and can fall asleep under almost any conditions, is unfortunately the best choice to share a bed with Brian.

Freddie must realize this too, because his eyes widen slightly and he gives Roger a quick look before opening his mouth to say something - but Roger beats him to the punch and says, “I’ll share with you, Bri. If you don’t mind.”

"I don't mind at all," Brian says with a faint smile.

That seems to settle the matter then, though Freddie keeps giving Roger concerned looks out of the corner of his eye. Ever since finding out about Roger's unrequited crush the singer has done his best to offer up distractions and commiseration when Roger needs it. It’s a gesture that Roger has come to appreciate, but one that’s not always necessary as Roger has gotten better about not letting things bother him like they would have in the past.

He can handle one night in the same bed with Brian. This isn’t going to be a problem for him at all.

Or so he thinks, until Brian unlocks the hotel room and Roger finally sees the situation he’s gotten himself into. Because the room is small, and the bed takes up almost all the available space. One dresser and two side tables round out the furniture, with no chairs or other lamps except those next to the bed. It’s intimately cramped, especially when Brian squeezes past Roger to set his bag down on the far side of the bed.

“Bit of a tight fit, but we’ll make it work, right Rog?” Brian says, with a lopsided smile. Roger can see his canines flash in the dim lights and Roger’s mouth goes dry, and he knows that he is screwed.

“Yeah, of course,” Roger says in a slightly strangled voice. He throws his suitcase down onto his side of the bed and quickly rifles through it, grabbing his shaving kit and a pair of pajamas at random before saying, “Going to shower first, d’you mind?” and fleeing to the bathroom before waiting for Brian’s response.

The thin door separating him from Brian isn’t enough for Roger to calm down. Bit of a tight fit, Brian had said, and Roger’s mind is running in dangerous circles, visions of Brian kneeling behind him, whispering those words in Roger’s ear as he-

“Stop that,” Roger mutters to himself as a he drags a hand down his face. Sharing a bed with Brian is going to be torturous enough without these sorts of thoughts running through Roger’s mind as well, so he steels himself and flicks the water temperature over to be a little colder before stepping inside.

Roger knows he can’t hide in the relative safety of the bathroom forever, but when he finally leaves he keeps his focus on pretending to sort through his luggage and not on how Brian has to brush close by him on his way to the bathroom himself - and then Roger is alone, staring down the bed that seems to be shrinking before his very eyes.

He turns off his light and climbs under the covers, and tries to focus on falling asleep before Brian gets out of the shower, but he doesn’t quite manage it. He’s too consumed by Brian, the sound of him banging an arm against wall of the shower, the faint ditty he hums when the water shuts off and he dries himself off, (the mental image of Brian in the shower, Brian toweling himself off, Brian with wet skin and water dripping off his curls onto Roger’s face as he leans over to kiss him-)

The bathroom door opens and Roger buries his face in his pillow, keeping his eyes closed and pretending to be fast asleep as Brian quietly calls out, “Rog? Are you still awake?”

When Roger stays quiet and doesn’t answer, Brian sighs softly and busies himself digging through his own suitcase for a moment. And then there’s the rustle of bedcovers, and the creak of the mattress as Brian climbs into bed next to Roger, and another small sigh as Brian gets settled into place with his book.

It’s quiet in the room now but Roger still can’t sleep. Brian is so close, close enough that Roger almost thinks he can feel the warmth of his body radiating out under the blankets. Or maybe it’s just Roger that’s flushed all over, heat pooling low in his gut and the rest of him burning up with embarrassment at not being able to rein in his emotions.

It would be so easy to reach for Brian while Roger feigns sleep. To roll over and close the space between their bodies, maybe even brush his arm or shoulder against Brian’s side, because what happens when he’s unconscious can’t be held against him. Except Roger wouldn’t be asleep, of course, and no matter what his heart wants he can’t take something that Brian wouldn’t freely give him if he knew Roger was awake.

So Roger holds himself apart and still and silent, listening to Brian turn the pages of his book, feeling him shift next to him on the bed, and finally hearing him click off his light before settling down to sleep himself. He rolls away from Roger, putting his back to the drummer, and the slight tension on the blankets breaks the dream that anything more than two friends sharing a bed would happen that night.

Roger listens as Brian’s breathing evens out and is replaced by light snoring, and then it’s just Roger left awake as the night creeps towards the early hours of the morning. Brian moves a little in his sleep but he never closes the distance between their two bodies and never rolls back over to face Roger, and Roger stays facing away from him as well. That, at least, is easier than looking at Brian sleeping next to him when Roger knows that this night will never be what he wants it to be.

1975

I’m sorry, Roger. I’m sorry. I can’t.

Roger thinks he might be sick. Or at least he feels like he should be sick because that seems like the right response here, but his body hasn’t quite caught up with that thought and his mind hasn’t entirely caught up with the reality of the situation, which is that he just kissed Brian… and Brian ran away.

Roger doesn’t know what else he expected. He doesn’t even really know why he did it, why today was the day when he decided to throw seven years of friendship out the window, but one moment he was watching Brian laugh in the late afternoon sun and the next his lips were on Brian’s, without any memory of having consciously decided to kiss his best friend.

For a moment, it was perfect. Brian’s lips were soft against his, dry and a little chapped but soft, and when Brian gasped Roger eagerly swallowed it down. Brian’s hands hovered in the air between them, before settling on Roger’s hips - just for a moment, just long enough for Roger’s heart to sing with happiness at finally, finally having everything he’s ever wanted - and then those same hands were pushing Roger away.

“I’m sorry, Roger,” Brian said, because of course he would apologize. Roger always knew that he would let him down gently, after all. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

And now Roger was alone, having finally ruined his oldest and best friendship, and probably the band as well, and he was so stupid for letting his guard down like that, and-

“Roger? You alright?”

It’s John and he’s giving Roger a look of wary concern, which is fair enough considering the state that Roger must be in. He hasn’t cried, not yet at least, but he can feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and he knows his hair must be a mess from the way he’s been pulling it in frustration and anger ever since Brian left.

“I’m fine,” Roger says but his voice cracks halfway through, and when John raises one unimpressed eyebrow Roger admits, “I’m not. I- I kissed Brian.”

Because what’s the point in keeping the secret now that Brian finally knows the horrible truth? Freddie has known for years, and John is bound to find out anyway when Brian leaves the band because he can’t stand being around Roger anymore-

Roger’s stomach lurches and he presses one hand over his mouth, because he doesn’t actually want to be sick now but that is a sickening thought - a life without Brian in it at all can only be bleak and boring, and Roger doesn’t know how he’s going to bear it.

“Oh,” John says, drawing Roger back out of his spiral of dark thoughts. “Is that it then?”

Roger gives John an incredulous look. “Is that it- I just told you I kissed Brian, that’s all you can say?”

John shrugs. “I’m honestly more surprised that you two haven’t kissed before this, if I’m being honest. You know he’s been in love with you for years, right?”

The words cut through Roger like a knife, so sharp and precise that if Roger didn’t know John so well he would think the man was deliberately trying to hurt him as much as possible. Still Roger laughs, though it sounds hollow even to his own ears, and he says, “He’s not. I promise you, he’s not.”

“He is,” John says simply. “I’ve watched the two of you, you know. Always staring at each other when you think the other one isn’t looking-”

“Brian doesn’t look at me, I would have seen-”

“Roger,” John cuts in gently. “Did you ever think that, like you, he didn’t want to be caught?”

Roger’s chest feels tight and his heart is beating painfully fast and he doesn’t know what game John is playing at here, but he can’t handle any more of this conversation. “Brian doesn’t feel like that about me,” he says, because he can’t speak the word love aloud, not now, not after all of this. “He doesn’t. He wouldn’t have run away if he did.”

“Well, did you tell him how you feel?” John asks.

“I told you, I kissed him!” Roger snaps.

“That’s not what I’m asking,” John says. He still sounds as calm as he did at the beginning of the conversation, and Roger almost hates him for being so unruffled when Roger’s entire world is falling to pieces around him. “Did you say something to him? Or did you just kiss him?”

Roger huffs a little and admits, “Well, I kissed him, but-”

“Rog,” John interrupts again. “This is Brian we’re talking about. He probably thought you were looking for a quick shag or something. You need to spell it out for him, not just snog him and hope he knows what you’re feeling.”

Roger opens his mouth to protest again… but then he pauses, and considers what John is saying. Because this isn’t the first time that he’s been told something similar - and he remembers a conversation in a dim pub after a Smile gig so many years ago, the laughter in Tim’s voice when he said, Mate, you could tell Brian that you fancy him to his face and I still don’t think he’d really understand what you’re saying.

He thinks about the years he spent looking at Brian, and those moments when he thought he saw Brian’s eyes wandering over to him that he dismissed as his own overactive imagination. He thinks about the hugs and casual, friendly touches that he couldn’t let himself believe lingered for a moment longer than they should. He thinks about coffees given to him because Brian knew he’d like them, and gentle fingers holding back his hair as he threw up after a night of drinking, and the warmth of Brian leaning against him in a pub or curled up on the other side of a shared bed…

And he lets himself wonder, for the first time, if maybe Brian had been holding himself at bay as much as Roger has been.

Roger has spent seven years scared to let himself hope, telling himself that it was impossible for Brian to return his affections, keeping that part of himself hidden away because he thought it would hurt less that way, even though the sting of heartache has never quite managed to fade. But now that hope is rising in his chest, bubbling up until he has no chance of stopping it - but he doesn’t want to stop it, not now, because god, if John is right about this then maybe… maybe...

“I have to talk to Brian,” Roger says suddenly, because what does he have to lose? Five minutes ago he thought his friendship with Brian was already ruined beyond repair. Coming clean about his feelings now can’t make that any worse, and the possibility that it might make things better is too tempting for even Roger to resist.

“You do,” John agrees with a small grin. “I saw him heading back towards the studio-”

That’s enough for Roger to take off, breaking into a jog after a few steps and then into a quick run, and he pushes through the door to the main studio at Ridge Farm out of breath and more than a little disheveled. He locks eyes with Brian, who’s sitting hunched over on the other side of the room and for a moment Roger almost loses his nerve entirely - but this is a conversation years in the making and it’s far too late to go back now.

Roger takes a deep breath and Brian’s fingers grip the edge of his chair so tightly that his knuckles shine white even in the dim lighting of the studio. “Brian,” Roger says at last. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

1976

Brian isn’t usually an early waker. He’s a night owl, through and through, always staying up into the late hours of the night and waking up long after everyone else has already gotten on with their day. Roger doesn’t mind so much - he likes having the mornings to himself, if he wants that, but he also likes spending long hours dozing next to Brian, wiling away his day until the other man finally starts to stir and Roger can coax him fully awake with gentle kisses and wandering hands.

So Roger is, understandably, a little surprised to wake up early on the morning of their first anniversary to find Brian conspicuously absent from their bed.

He’s a little disgruntled too because he had plans for this anniversary, starting with spoiling Brian with breakfast in bed - something that’s a little difficult to pull off when Brian disappeared while Roger was asleep. He waits for a few minutes, in case Brian just got up to grab a glass of water or take a piss, but when Brian doesn’t return to the bedroom Roger huffs, and gets up to go looking for him.

It’s not hard to find Brian. As soon as Roger opens the bedroom door he’s greeted with the smell of fresh coffee and warm toast… and something decidedly burnt that has Roger peering into the kitchen with no small amount of wariness.

Brian is there, as Roger suspected he would be, with the window open and a smoking pan in the sink and an almost-complete tray of breakfast on their small table. Brian is standing in front of the stove, poking a spatula cautiously at a few strips of bacon, as if he expects them to blow up in his face at any moment - and judging from the charred remains of bacon still sitting in the sink, Roger suspects that might have nearly been what happened the first time around.

Roger could very easily sneak up on Brian, if he wanted to. It’s almost laughably easy to startle Brian when he gets lost in his own head and Roger loves kissing him until he stops grumbling good-natured complaints under his breath, but that’s not what he wants today. So he purposefully makes a bit too much noise as he steps into the kitchen, and Brian turns to greet him with a bright smile.

“Roger! You’re not supposed to be awake yet!” Brian says with a small laugh.

Brian’s smile still takes Roger’s breath away, and his laughter still makes Roger’s heart do flips in his chest. It’s been a year but he almost can’t believe that Brian is looking at him like that, with so much love on his face that Roger doesn’t quite know what to do with it all. To think, that if Roger hadn’t bared his heart to Brian after that near-disastrous kiss at Ridge Farm, they might never have ended up here at all.

“Good morning to you too,” Roger says, just because he knows that will get Brian laughing again - it does, and Roger’s smile only widens at the sound of it. “Why are you awake this early anyway?”

Brian sighs, deflating a little, and turns back to give the bacon another discouraged poke. “I wanted to make you breakfast in bed, but as it turns out I don’t know how to make much besides toast and coffee.”

Roger crosses the small kitchen and wraps an arm around Brian’s waist. The bacon in the pan is soggy and wholly unappetizing but Roger doesn’t comment on that and instead says, “Hey, don’t sell yourself short. You cut up the fruit as well.”

Brian laughs and kisses the top of Roger’s head. “I suppose that’s something, yeah.” He glances down at the pan and sighs again, and asks a bit tentatively, “Any hope of salvaging the bacon?”

“I don’t think so, no,” Roger admits, and reaches out to shut off the burner. “You’re braver than me, though. I wasn’t even going to try to cook you breakfast, I was planning on just running down to the bakery for pastries.”

Brian perks up a little again, a faint smile returning to his face as he asks, “Wait… You were going to-?”

“Give you breakfast in bed as well? Yeah,” Roger tells him. “But someone had to choose today of all days to wake up early and ruin my plans…”

“I’m sorry, Rog,” Brian says with a small laugh and a twinkle in his eye that makes it obvious that he’s not really that sorry about ruining Roger’s plans. “I just wanted to spoil you today. It is our anniversary, you know.”

“Is it? I had no idea,” Roger lies. Brian jabs him in the side with one boney elbow, and Roger yelps and gives him a light shove in response. “Hey! Not fair!”

“Sorry love,” Brian apologizes again, still as playfully insincere as ever.

He leans down to kiss Roger again, but this time Roger tilts his head back and captures his lips with his own so he can kiss Brian properly for the first time that morning. Brian sighs against his mouth and Roger takes a half-step forward, pressing against Brian and letting his hands drop to Brian’s hips, holding him close and deepening the kiss until Brian whimpers faintly against Roger’s mouth and he has to pull back before they get too carried away.

Brian’s lips are kiss-swollen and it makes Roger want to push him against the counter and keep kissing him for the rest of the morning, suck bruises along the column of his throat where they can’t be hidden, so the whole world knows that Brian is his.

“I love you,” he says instead, and he’s said it a thousand times before but he’s never said it like this, on their anniversary, with Brian looking at him like Roger hung his precious stars in the sky and with so much love in his heart that he doesn’t know how to begin to put it all into words.

“I love you too,” Brian says softly, with a smile so tender that it takes Roger’s breath away to see it. “God, Rog, I love you so much. You have made me happier over the last year than anyone else ever has, and I- I don’t know what to say. There’s not enough words in the world to describe what you mean to me.”

Roger lets out a small huff and he’s sure he must look like a love-struck fool but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when it’s Brian, not when he finally has everything he ever wanted and when he finally has Brian in his life like this. “Well you certainly didn’t leave enough words for me to follow up after that speech,” he jokes, and it comes out a bit watery with emotion but he doesn’t care about that either.

Brian laughs softly and takes Roger’s hands in his and says, “I have an idea, then.” And he starts walking backwards, out of the kitchen, gently pulling Roger along with him. “How about I just show you how much you mean to me instead?”

“What about breakfast?” Roger asks, though there’s a grin growing on his face and heat starting to pool in his belly and if Brian tries to backtrack into the kitchen now Roger is pretty sure he’ll just have his way with his boyfriend against the counter anyway.

“It can wait,” Brian says, kicking the bedroom door open and tugging Roger through. “I think there’s been a change of plans for this morning.”

Roger, laughing, pushes Brian down onto the bed and straddles his hips, leaning over him with a wicked smile. “Yeah, you know what? I think you’re right,” he agrees, and he leans down to kiss Brian again.

#maylor #maylor fanfic #maylor fic #brian may fic #roger taylor fic #queen band fic #my fic #locevent #loc event #(title is from the Smile song ''Polar Bear'' which you should listen to if you haven't heard it yet)#(actually go listen to all the Smile songs if you haven't yet they are excellent)#(also I know some of the Smile/early Queen details are off)#(like the living arrangements)#(don't @ me it's fic and this works better for the story)

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ayamari-no-goshi · 3 years

Text

Eidolon 5 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary: AU: What started off as the result of a simple act of rebellion ends up causing his life to spin out of control. How will young Danny cope with the results as well as a past that has a strange habit of coming back to haunt him.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, kidnapping, and various other things

Parings: hints of Danny/Sam much later on

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr

5. Unexpected Meetings

Something didn't feel right. Winston never left the front door open or even unlocked when he was home let alone when he was out. Danny, hesitantly followed by his two friends, cautiously entered the house hoping nothing was wrong.

He peaked into the study where he had last seen his guardian, and although it still looked like a tornado had gone through it, no one was there. That, combined with the fact that the car was missing, told him that Winston had left the house in a hurry. It was possible that he had just gone to the meeting and locking the door slipped his mind, but he had never known Winston to ever do that; he was too cautious.

"Danny… did you find anything?" Tucker asked cautiously as he and Sam came to the door. "Whoa, what happened to this room?"

Danny looked back at his friends for a moment as he tried to step over the mess. "He was looking for something that I assume was pretty important when I left. Hold on a sec," he requested as he looked for a safe place to step, "he doesn't want people in here."

"Really?" Sam asked in an irritated tone.

"Hey, it was the only condition he had if I invited you over."

"You're concerned that something might have happened to Winston, yet you worry about that. It seems to me that you need to get your priorities in order."

He just shrugged as he continued to carefully make his way through the study. Everything looked practically the same, save for the mess, except for the random paper and an envelope that seemed really out of place on the desk. Curious, he grabbed them and made his way over towards the door.

"Wh-what is it?" Tucker asked after he showed them what he found.

"Letters…. I think," he replied as he got a better look at them. He was just about to open them when something fell in the kitchen. The three friends looked at each other for a moment before they started to creep towards the source of the noise.

When they rounded the corner, they saw a man mumbling to himself while picking up what appeared to be a cup. At first, he thought he could be a robber, but the more he looked at the man, the more he thought that was impossible. This man appeared to be around Winston's age and was wearing a suit. Unless this person was crazy, it seemed very unlikely that he was a robber.

"Hey!" he called out as he ignored his friends' warnings, which caused the unknown man to jump. He quickly regained himself. "I don't know who you are, but don't you know that breaking and entering is illegal?"

The man smiled in a manner which caused Danny to involuntarily shudder. There was something off about his expression. "I think that the term you want is unlawful entry, but it amounts to the same thing, I suppose," the man told him in a rather carefree manner. "Yet, I could say the same thing to you."

"Yeah, but I live here. You don't."

The man's eyes lit up for a moment with… hunger…? … which was almost instantly replaced with a more neutral expression. "Would that make you young Daniel then?"

"And, what if he is?" Sam asked, startling both of them as she and Tucker moved behind their friend.

The man examined the newcomers for a moment before he slapped himself in the forehead rather dramatically. "Oh dear me, where are my manners? I'm Vladimir Masters, and after your guardian called to reschedule his meeting due to an 'emergency', I was sent to make sure that everything was okay here. And, needless to say, that when I saw that the door was open, I was concerned and decided to take a look." He then raised an eyebrow after giving a quick look around. "Yet, I'm surprised to see that you're here without Mr. Wolfe."

"Wh-what do you mean 'emergency'?" he stuttered after the man had finished. "Everything was fine before I left…"

Before an answer could be given, Tucker gently pushed Danny back and glared at the older man. "I think a better question is: what is Vlad Masters, a billionaire and famous businessman, doing here?"

"He's what?" both Danny and Sam demanded at the same time.

Tucker looked at them in a rather surprised manner. "You seriously don't know? He's one of the most famous people in the world and one of the richest."

The three of them glanced back at the man, who was trying not to look too pleased with himself. "Ah, apparently I've made more of an impression on the world than I thought I did," he told them in an attempt to sound modest. "But, to answer your question, one of my companies is involved with custody battles, so I do hear about situations like this. While it's true that I usually don't personally get involved, your case, Daniel, interests me."

His eyes narrowed as he listened to the man. Something was feeling more off by the moment. "Why me?" he demanded. "What's so special about me that someone like you came here?"

Vlad's eyes widened in feigned shock at his words. "Surely, my boy, Winston would have said something about me to you. I mean, I was a good friend of your parents."

"Wait… you knew my parents?"

"Of course! We met each other in college and remained good friends afterwards. It was such a shame when I found out about their disappearance…" He paused for a moment and looked at the boy with a strange expression that he really didn't like. "In truth, if things would have gone the way that your parents had wanted, I would have become your legal guardian."

He would have become what? Danny was absolutely certain his parents, even if he didn't remember them, would never let him go with someone so creepy. Although his story sounded believable, there was something that he wasn't saying about the situation, and whatever this 'something' was, he was fairly certain he didn't want to hear it.

"Back up," Sam demanded of Vlad. "It almost sounds like your accusing Mr. Wolfe of illegally taking care of Danny."

"Is that what it sounds like?" Vlad asked her. Unlike the previous times he spoke, his voice dropped the pleasant tone he was using. "It would be a lie to say that I'm not displeased about how things have turned out, however as much as I hate to admit it, there is validity in his claim. If it wasn't for that blasted letter, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

HIs grip on the papers in his hand tightened. "What do you mean? What letter?"

Once again, Vlad gave the boy an appraising glance. "Apparently, he hasn't told you anything. No matter, within a couple weeks, it should be made clear, even if he still decides to keep you blissfully ignorant." He then glanced at his watch and sighed. "It looks like I've stayed here longer than I planned. I will call your guardian later tonight to see if the emergency, which you clearly have no knowledge of, has been solved." A nod of his head was all that he gave as a farewell before he exited the house.

…

"Well… that was certainly weird…" Tucker stated after Danny had made sure that the front door was locked and that Vlad was nowhere to be seen. "Is everything okay? And what was he talking about when he mentioned the 'custody battle'?"

He sighed as he walked into the family room and sat down on the couch. His friends followed him as they exchanged worried expressions. "He… Winston… told me that the state had lost some of my adoption papers," he said as he absentmindedly looked at the papers in his hands. "He had said that it wasn't that big of a deal even though the state would be coming to pay a visit. Yet… it suddenly sounds like it's so much more complicated…"

Sam gently touched his shoulder as she sat next to him, "It'll be okay. And, if worst comes to worst, I'll try to convince my parents to hire someone to defend you in court. Now that I think about it, they've mentioned that man before, and they really don't like him. If my dad won't do it for the 'good of the cause', he'll certainly do it to get back at Mr. Masters."

"Do… do you really mean that?" He gently smiled as she vehemently agreed. "Thanks, Sam."

Tucker coughed, which caused them to look at him rather awkwardly. "Sorry to interrupt your moment," he told them as he also sat down, "But I have another question, and it's really bothering me. When he said that Mr. Wolfe was keeping you 'blissfully ignorant' do you think that he meant the legal stuff or something else? 'Cause, I honestly think it was the 'something else'."

"You know, I've been wondering that too…" Sam agreed. "A lot of what he said made me think that he was referring to something that was more complicated than just a custody battle."

"And that's not complicated at all," he told her with the most sarcastic tone that he could muster.

She just rolled her eyes. "You know what I meant. It's like he has ulterior motives for not only visiting your house but for being involved in the legal stuff too."

He sighed as he tried to get make sense of the strange visit. For some strange reason, it just seemed like within a couple weeks his entire world decided to become a complicated mess, not even counting the paranormal events. Speaking of which… He glanced down at his hand that had begun to feel a bit weird. It was that same feeling that had occurred before that event.

Worried, he quickly excused himself and ran to the bathroom. As he tried to lock the door, his hand passed right through the doorknob. No… it couldn't be! He stumbled backwards, hoping that he could back away from whatever was causing the problem, but it was to no avail.

Fear gripped him as he slid down the wall and stared at his hand. It was exactly how it looked the other day: a pale shadow of its former self. The only difference was this time was that part of his forearm was affected too. There was no way that he could pass it off as a dream this time either. What was he going to do about this? Heck, he didn't even know what this was!

"Danny?" a voice called out after knocking on the door. It was Sam, and from what it sounded like, she was worried. Had he really be in here that long?

"Crap!" he whispered to himself as he stood up. The door wasn't locked, and there was no way that he was going to let either of his friends see what was happening. Yet, luck didn't seem to be on his side seeing as he fell before he could cross the small room.

"Danny?" Sam asked again. "Are you okay in there?"

"I'm f-fine!" he answered as he tried to stand, only to no avail. A glance at his legs told him why: the one had somehow managed to sink into the floor. "Okay… and now everything's ten times worse… Come on!" He tried pulling on his leg only to find that it was stuck. It just had to be a joke. There was no way that all of this was happening to him: it was just impossible.

"Sam, you can't go in there!" he heard Tucker warn their friend as the doorknob jiggled.

"Bite me!" she snapped back as the doorknob turned and the door opened.

For a moment, nothing was said as the three friends looked at each other and registered the impossible situation before them. "Um… this isn't what it looks like…?" Danny told them meekly before Tucker fainted.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Winston was not entirely sure what he should do. For the past half an hour, he had been having a stare down with an entity that he had been hoping that he would never have to see again. The reason was that it brought chaos and destruction everywhere it went, and it seemed to be after the last known surviving member of a family it personally tried to destroy over a decade ago. And, what made it worse was that he had no idea where that person was, even if he had seen him just before he had left the house.

Though, this staring contest felt off. The ghost that was floating not even fifty yards away seemed distracted as if it was waiting for something, and, from what he knew of it, this was incredibly unusual. In the past, although it did have a tendency to gloat on occasion, it tended to go straight towards its goal in a manner that showed careful planning. Yet, he knew that if he tried to get away, it would definitely stop him probably even before he managed to get back into his car. Oh did he wish that he had some of the Fenton's inventions with him, but with what the ghost had done, that was impossible now.

"I'm surprised, Plasmius" he said after a few more moments, hoping that he could possibly talk his way out of this, "you were never this statuesque before. What changed?"

The ghost looked at him carefully before it smiled carefully. "Oh, I assure you that nothing's changed. Do you really think so little of me to assume that I've lost my touch?"

"Then why keep me here? There's nothing that I have of value to you nor do I pose any threat!"

Plasmius' smile grew larger after he spoke, which sent chills down his spine. "Is that really the case?" it asked as it floated just a little closer. "Then tell me, how does the boy fare? If my calculations are correct, isn't it about time for him to come into his birthright?"

Winston felt his blood grow cold. So, all this time, it did know that he had custody of the boy, and not only that, it knew exactly where they lived. He had walked into a trap! It was just trying to get him away from Danny. How could he have been so stupid?

"And, where are we going? Hmm?" the ghost asked as it watched him move closer to his car. "You wouldn't be trying to head back to young Daniel, would you?" When the only answer it received was a glare, it chuckled. "Oh, you don't have to worry yet; I won't take him from you tonight. No, that would just be too easy and not as rewarding. Instead, I'll gain hold of him in a way that will not only humiliate you, but will also tear away his trust in you, if you continue to keep silent."

"You… you monster! There's no way that I'll ever let you do that!"

"Really? The signs have begun to appear, and if you're not careful, the shock of that change will be too much and he'll have no choice but to come with me." It then vanished only to appear inches from his face. "I mean, just today, his eyes turned this brilliant shade of green, the exact shade of ectoplasm, when my… associate… spoke with him not too long ago."

"Bastard!" Winston snarled as he tried to punch it in the face only to end up hitting his car instead. Laughter came from behind him, which only enraged him more. "What did you do to him?"

"Me? I haven't done a thing yet, but mark my words, I will get a hold of him. Just keep close watch on him for now, since you won't be able to for much longer. Ta!" With that final word, it once again vanished from site causing him to do spin around to attempt to find it. Yet, after a few moments it really seemed like it was gone for the time being.

He sighed in momentary relief that he managed to get out of the meeting unscathed. But, now that it made it clear that its goal was Danny, what was he supposed to do? With the current situation with the state, there was no way that he would be able to move, and on top of that, it appeared that the ghost somehow had the ability to track them. And, what had it meant when it mentioned an associate? There was just too much information to mull over from this meeting to understand it in the moment. He would have to wait until he got home… and hopefully, Danny had managed to find his way back already. If not, hopefully he'd head back soon. With that thing around, no place was safe for him.

….

"Danny…? Are you home yet?" he called out once he entered the house. There was no reply, but he did hear noises coming from one of the rooms. He called out again as he tried to figure out where they were coming from.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from one of the doorways. He was taken aback until he realized that it was just Danny's friend, Tucker. "Oh, you're home!" he said in a relieved voice. "We thought it might be that Vlad guy again…"

"Vlad guy…?" he repeated as looked around. "Wait, where's Danny?"

"Uh…" Winston stared at the boy as he tried to answer him. "He's… currently in the bathroom. Sam's with him. He… uh… isn't feeling well…" Worried, he quickly moved towards the bathroom, followed by a rather surprised Tucker.

"Danny?" he asked softly as he slowly entered the room. The scene he entered would have been comical if he wasn't so worried. Sam had been massaging his back but stopped abruptly as he entered and adopted an expression that was somewhere between embarrassment and normality. Danny was hanging over the side of the bathtub with a blanket draped over him. He weakly smiled as he looked at him before turning back towards the tub.

In that brief instant that Danny had looked at him, he had seen the boy's eyes turn green. So, the ghost hadn't lied about that. Maybe it really was happening… but, he would debate with himself over what to say to Danny, once he figured out how to help him get better.

#Eidolon #danny phantom #danny phantom au #dp #dp au #my writing #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #vlad plasmius #fanfic #fanfiction #fantasy #supernatural #phandom

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antialiasis · 4 years

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Jesus Christ Superstar: all of my thoughts

Allll right, this will be me watching my way through Jesus Christ Superstar 2012 (the arena tour with Tim Minchin/Ben Forster) and rambling about e v e r y t h i n g as I go, prompted by me having a lot of thoughts approximately every two minutes while watching it on YouTube/rewatching it/listening to multiple other JCS productions in between. Unusually for me, there will be very little complaining. This production is not perfect but that's not really what I'm here to talk about right now, shush, let me just go on about why I love this musical, at incredible length.

(I will be talking both about particulars in this production and about JCS in general as a narrative, without explicitly distinguishing the two, but please rest assured I do know which is which. I am pretty hardcore, I have seen five different productions live (including the 2013 leg of the arena tour) as well as the movies, listened to a lot of different Gethsemanes, I know this show.)

(this will also jump wildly between deep intellectual analysis and just me shamelessly appreciating the whump content, please bear with me)

can I start off by saying I really love the band and instrumentation and arrangements in 2012

The JCS overture is really long but I love it and it's always fun to see exactly what they do with it when it's staged. This production goes with showing Jesus's followers as protesters clashing with police, following news headlines, and then, during the calm choral "betrayal leitmotif", they're all gathered around Jesus staring at him in the most ominous way - then, as the first notes of "Heaven On Their Minds" play, Jesus closes his eyes and shakes his head a little, as if snapping out of a thought - as if he just felt the coming of betrayal. Neat.

Anyway, "Heaven On Their Minds"! This is such a good song. When I first saw JCS, as my school's production in 2005, and it opened not with Jesus but with Judas, presenting these totally reasonable concerns that he has about Jesus, I was already so intrigued by where this was going. Judas is the actual protagonist of JCS; one of the main narrative things it's doing is telling these events largely from his point of view, imagining how what he did might be interpreted to be sympathetic and understandable. This is why he gets the opening number and the final proper song with the show's closing musings. If you put on JCS and treat it like it's a story about Jesus with Judas as a side character, you're doing it wrong.

The iconic opening riff of “Heaven On Their Minds” is what I’m calling the “Agony” motif in my musical motif chart, because the places it recurs are the moment Judas resolves to hang himself in “Judas’s Death” and... “The 39 Lashes”. Originally I connected it to Judas, but “The 39 Lashes” has nothing at all to do with Judas; instead, the one thing that connects these three occurrences of the motif is pain - which really rather underlines how painful it is when Judas’s mind clears and he sees what lies ahead.

So, Judas: he was one of Jesus's closest friends, and a real, true believer in what this movement was originally about: charity, compassion, noble ideals. But lately, he's seen it turn into more of a cult of personality around Jesus himself - you've begun to matter more than the things you say. Now they're all thinking Jesus is the messiah, the Son of God - and worse, it's like Jesus is starting to believe it himself.

(Tim Minchin does this little frustrated eyeroll on you really do believe this talk of God is true, and I love it. I know his vocal performance is not to everyone's taste, and I get why especially with the unwarranted autotuning on the official recording, but I just love his actual acting here, his expressions and body language, so much. I was watching him for most of the show when I saw this live, because I usually spend most of JCS looking for whether Judas is doing something interesting in the background, and it was choice. Unfortunately the editor for this official recording isn't quite as interested in what Judas is doing in the background as I am, alas, and there are a lot of bits where I'd like to get a better look at him but we don't, but there are still some very good reactions.)

So, the reason this is bad, this whole messiah thing, is not only that calling Jesus their king might rub the authorities the wrong way, but also that now they're all expecting Jesus to up and free them from Roman oppression. Which is just not a thing that he can do! Judas is worried if Jesus doesn't deliver his followers will turn against him (and they'll hurt you when they find they're wrong). He's worried if Jesus actually does try anything, or heaven forbid, his followers just do it on their own - Jesus's words are already being taken out of context and twisted to justify whatever the speaker feels like - if they step so much as a toe over the line, that'll be all the excuse the Romans need to regard the Jewish community as a whole as violent insurgents or a delusional cult and bring in the army. This movement used to be a beautiful thing, but it's become an existential threat with the potential to get them all killed. And - when Judas tries to voice these concerns, Jesus brushes them off. He won't listen. Things are spiraling out of control, and Jesus won't do anything about it.

(Note, by the way, that a big part of Judas's worries is worries about Jesus in particular getting hurt.)

(Judas is very focused here on the future, all these things looming on the horizon that could happen if things continue as they are - so when we transition abruptly into the upbeat "What's the Buzz?", where Jesus tries to get his followers to think less about the future and more about the here and now, for all that it feels like a musical and textual non-sequitur we're actually kind of staying on theme.)

Jesus hasn't been doing anything about things or listening to Judas, and is very focused on the here and now, because as it happens he knows (or at least believes) that in a few days he is going to be tortured and executed, and really he doesn't entirely know what's going to happen after that, and this is pretty terrifying and stressful and right now he's dealing with that by trying to not think about it.

Why are you obsessed with fighting times and fates you can't defy? He basically means this at this point. Why would you try to fight inevitable fates? That’s pointless; it’s not like Jesus would ever do that. You just don’t think about them. Jesus is fine. It’s fine. This is fine.

(Mary is the one person who’s actively helping Jesus take his mind off things and stay in the moment. Emotionally he really needs to just relax and think of nothing and be told everything's all right, and Mary's the person who provides that. She alone has tried to give me what I need right here and now. I contend that this is the main point of Mary's role in the first act of JCS, more than her infatuation with him.)

Buuuut of course Judas has no idea what's behind this. As far as he can tell Jesus is just kind of hypocritically wasting his time on hedonistic indulgence, like the whole Son of God thing's just gone to his head, and like everything else about the situation, it's concerning, and he tries to speak out about it, in “Strange Thing, Mystifying”...

...which prompts Jesus to lash out. There was a sort of frustration behind some of his lines in “What’s the Buzz”, but he still just seemed to be preaching a general philosophy of staying in the here and now. At Judas’s criticisms, though, he's defensive and confrontational, exhorting him to not throw stones... and he's not done: I'm amazed that men like you can be so shallow, thick and slow! There is not a man among you who knows or cares if I come or go!

That's a total strange overreaction, especially since he starts out addressing Judas but then goes on to "There is not a man among you", when nobody else was saying anything, much less anything implying they don't care about Jesus. So, obviously, this isn't really about what Judas just said. What this is showing us is that Jesus has a lot of pent-up frustrations and concerns, too, and he's in a strangely delicate mood. It's kind of an odd sequence watching it for the first time; this lashout is weird! I thought it was weird when I first saw the show! But that’s the point. It’s here because it is weird, because Jesus is not as fine as he seems.

(This is what almost every song with Jesus in it in Act I is about. It's a series of incidents - many of them based on actual bits from the Bible - of Jesus lashing out unexpectedly and/or being strongly disillusioned with his followers and vaguely, bitterly alluding to his upcoming death. The weight of anticipating his own execution is taking a real psychological toll on him from the start, and this is all building towards where all those fears and doubts and worries and anger come out in "Gethsemane". It took me the longest time to properly notice this, that Jesus isn't just sort of being a drama queen out of nowhere here; these events are being presented like this to connect them into a cohesive speculative narrative that this was all just manifestations of Jesus's anxiety about the fact he believes he's going to die in a few days and he's not sure what he's really accomplished.)

While the apostles join together in a chorus of No, you're wrong! You're very wrong!, Judas silently pulls out a cigarette, because 2012 Judas smokes to calm his nerves and I love it. The nerves don't stop him rolling his eyes again in the background at Jesus's Not one of you!, though. (Jesus has probably been having these weird, oddly self-pitying lashouts for a little while now - it feels like a "this again" sort of eye-roll.)

Judas tries again to confront Jesus during "Everything's Alright", even more emphatic, but in a more sincere and genuine way - he really wants to get through to him. No, seriously, Jesus, why are you wasting expensive ointment on your feet and hair when the poor are starving - you know, the thing this movement was supposed to be about. Mary, probably a bit higher in emotional intelligence than Judas, can obviously tell that Jesus is just pretty stressed out right now and really needs some rest, and basically just tries to get Jesus to ignore him until he goes away - but Jesus responds to him anyway. Starts calm, but there's an oddly defeatist quality to what he's saying - there’ll always be poor people, we can't save them, look at the good things you've got... and then he launches into another bitter lashout: Think while you still have me, move while you still see me - you’ll be lost, you'll be so, so sorry, when I'm gone. Strike two on Jesus-is-not-as-fine-as-he-seems.

(Seriously, though, at this point it'd be reasonable to be pretty alarmed; from an outside perspective, these lines sound kind of suicidal. Perhaps that’s why Mary immediately steps in again to try to calm him down.)

Meanwhile, Judas silently backs off. What he takes away from these two confrontations is that Jesus isn't really happy either. He's not actually thrilled with his followers or what’s going on; he just seems to feel helpless and unable to change anything at all, and has apparently just resigned himself to it, instead of even trying to fix it.

I love how gloriously ominous the "Hosanna Superstar" bit of "This Jesus Must Die" is. It really makes this upcoming cheerful song sound like an omen of doom and horror, the way it feels to the Pharisees. It’s the same melody as “We need him crucified” in “Trial Before Pilate” - apt, since the crowd’s devotion to Jesus is the real problem that causes the Pharisees to believe they need to get him killed.

Thus, the Pharisees have basically the same concerns Judas does - Jesus's mass of fans is growing out of control, they're blasphemously insisting he's their king, and it's only a matter of time before this brings the wrath of the Romans down upon the entire Jewish nation. They only go a bit further by believing the only way to properly quash this movement is to put Jesus to death. (Which is kind of dubious - surely there's a danger that martyring him will just make people more devoted - but I appreciate that they, too, get basically sympathetic motivations. It’s the oppression of the Romans that’s the real enemy here; they only see Jesus as a real problem because of how the Romans might react.)

By "Hosanna", Jesus has recovered his usual composure and passion. This is the one Jesus song where he does genuinely seem to be doing all right, and in that way it serves as a good contrast to literally everything else in this musical. In it we see a glimpse of the preacher and activist that he’s been for these three years, almost bursting with glee as he tells the Pharisees they're not going to be quiet at all thank you very much. He preaches his message to the crowd: There is not one of you who cannot win the Kingdom - a kind, positive echo of yesterday's angry lashout. He loves this, and he still loves this movement. This is what it's all supposed to be about.

...only, of course, for some people to yell "Hey, J.C., J.C., won't you die for me!", and he turns his head, his smile fading just a little (I wish the camera stayed on him a little while longer here). But he recovers and carries on. Ha ha, yeah, he'd die for you.

Jesus's own rally leads directly into Simon's rave, full of adoring fans begging Jesus to touch and kiss them. Same enthusiasm, but more obviously a product of that cult of personality that Judas was worried about. And there in the middle of it is Simon, so bright-eyed and enthusiastic about the whole thing, telling him about how with his probably over 50,000 followers, he should add just a smidge of hatred towards the Romans, and you will rise to a greater power, we will win ourselves a home! He's one of those who want Jesus to be leading a violent revolution to free them.

I like how the first portion of "Poor Jerusalem" echoes a slow, somber version of the same melody as "Simon Zealotes" as Jesus laments, almost to himself, that none of them, nobody at all, understands power, or glory, or anything. This time Jesus isn't really angry, just kind of exhausted and contemplative. Nobody really seems to get his message; these poor misguided people won't get the revolution they're hoping for; Jerusalem itself is doomed. The city wouldn't be willing to do what's needed even if they knew.

To conquer death, you only have to die is one of my favorite lines. I’m an atheist, but as a kid I remember being taught at the Christian summer camp I went to that by dying himself, Jesus conquered death. That idea is twisted and presented the other way around here: to conquer death, you only have to die. Only. An darkly ironic presentation of it as if it were easy. It’s not as easy as Jesus would like it to be - but he truly believes that it’s what he must do.

"Pilate's Dream" has the same melody as the second half of “Poor Jerusalem” - because both Jesus and Pilate are contemplating an unsettling future that they have seen.

I do think it's a little wrong that 2012 Pilate chuckles at the end of "Pilate’s Dream”, though. The whole point of this song, as far as I can tell, is that he's unsettled by this dream, and it's probably part of why he's so reluctant to sentence Jesus to death later, so I think it's an incongruous choice to make it seem like he just sort of brushed it off as nonsense.

As I mentioned before, the arena tour staging includes Simon buying a gun during "The Temple", a really chilling detail that I liked a lot and that is in no way discernible in the official recording. Maybe the editor didn't notice, maybe it just wasn't very clear in the footage they got anyway, maybe it's some sort of ratings issue where showing a gun for a few seconds would just be too much (while the lengthy, brutal torture and execution scenes coming up are totally fine). Obviously it doesn't mean anything for the later narrative or anything (especially since the actual narrative is taking place in 33 AD and guns don't actually exist, regardless of the staging choices of any particular production), but it’s a nice way of using staging to lend further support to the overall point of how Jesus's followers variously fail to understand his teachings - it strengthens both Jesus’s and Judas’s concerns.

When Jesus and Judas arrive at the temple, they're arguing once again, though we don't know what about. Given the way Jesus is striding towards the doors and Judas is trying to hold him back, I imagine Judas is worried that doing something like running into the temple and breaking tables and screaming is the sort of attention-grabbing, polarizing stunt that'd be a really bad idea, and Jesus is upset and doesn't care.

(The bouncer doesn't let Judas in. I'm guessing Jesus tells him Judas is harassing him or something, within the staging-narrative where the temple is a nightclub that has a bouncer.)

So Jesus goes and smashes a table and yells at everyone to get out. This is probably where Jesus begins to alienate a lot of people, who were having a great time at the temple only for him to come in and have a breakdown at them.

(He's so angry, breathing hard, fists clenched after everyone's left. This isn't really about the temple either. He's really begun to realize how many of his followers don't get it at all, and he doesn't have time to fix that. He's been trying for so long and he's so tired.)

The leper bit makes a pretty similar point. Jesus wants to help all these people, and tries - but there are too many, and they're crowding him, and he's not going to be around to help them for much longer - so he desperately tells them to heal themselves, and they leave, probably thinking wow Jesus is kind of a jerk.

I'm sorry, I don't have anything to say about "I Don't Know How to Love Him", love ballads are pretty consistently my least favorite song in every musical, I like and appreciate Mary but my investment in this song pretty much begins and ends with its role in setting up the twisted reprise in "Judas's Death"

I enjoy the fourth-wall-leaning audacity of having the guitarist spotlighted on stage playing the solo before "Damned For All Time", and Judas is looking at him like "who are you, go away", and keeps looking evasively back at him while he's slowly getting the Pharisees' number out of his wallet and calling it. (It also helps show Judas feels pretty guilty and shameful about doing this, and works better for that than having extras on stage - if it were extras, we might expect that them witnessing this could actually mean something later, but when it's the guitarist, it's obvious he's just serving as an anonymous stand-in for a hypothetical random stranger who isn't literally part of the story.)

I like the shot of Judas looking into the security camera outside the Pharisees' building. (That’s decidedly not the same hairdo Tim Minchin has on stage, though.)

Judas opens his talk with the Pharisees, without even greeting them first, by frantically justifying himself, talking about how this is weird and hard for him but there was just nothing else he could do, he's not hoping for a reward or anything, he's been forced to do this, he's not a dirty traitor, please don't think that. He really doesn't want to be here. But here he is anyway, because Jesus can't control it like he did before - and furthermore I know that Jesus thinks so too, Jesus wouldn't mind that I'm here with you. He's seen Jesus over the past few days and he's pretty sure he has this figured out. Jesus can see just as well as he does where things are headed - it's just he's helpless to control it and doesn't know what to do about it. So this has to be done. He'd probably want Judas to bail him out of this, just get him arrested and the movement shut down, for everyone's sake. (Jesus is so self-sacrificing, after all.) Right? He'd be fine with this. Right? (Judas is fine.)

("Damned For All Time" is just Judas wildly word-vomiting trying to placate his own guilt and I love it. He's legitimately afraid of where things are headed if he doesn't do this, and thinks it has to ultimately be the right thing, but that doesn't make him feel any better about it.)

(I like how Caiaphas just sort of coolly listens to him ramble his head off like this while he sips his drink.)

Judas goes for a cigarette again (calming those nerves), and Annas helpfully lights it for him - prompting Judas's next ramble. Annas, you're a friend, a worldly man and wise - Caiaphas, my friend, I know you sympathize. It's not like he's selling Jesus out to anyone unreasonable. Annas is nice! We three, we get it, right? You get it. We're the people who can see when a difficult thing just has to be done, did I mention I HAVE to do this and this is not about money - only for Annas to tell him to cut it out with this blather and excuses and just give them the information they want. And also, they'll pay him handsomely!

I don't need your blood money! Judas says, then I don't want your blood money! Sometimes these lines are reversed, which sounds better - there's something more satisfying about the vowel in need than in want - but I think textually this original order is important. First he's sort of polite-ish-ly declining, saying no, he doesn't need any money, but then when they insist, he declines more firmly, that he doesn't want it either. (I love the way he shoves Annas's hand away.) It's so important to Judas's own principles that he came here because he thinks it's right, not because he wants payment; the idea of being paid makes it way worse.

...But then Caiaphas grabs the cigarette out of his mouth (leaving him a bit shaken with nothing to hold onto anymore) and goes well, you can give it to charity, or to the poor; they understand that's not why he's doing this, but they'd still like to pay him a fee. And that's the reason he ultimately does take the money: because just a few days earlier he was telling Jesus off for letting money be wasted when it could have gone to the poor. How could he do the same?

(Judas is not doing this for the money in this show. He is not being tempted by the money. He was not going to take the money until he was told he could give it to charity. One of the professional live productions I saw just did not understand this at all, and no. Judas is the protagonist! He is not here for the money! It's done right here, with the Pharisees just throwing the money at him after he names Gethsemane, and him not even reacting, just slowly picking it up afterwards. Tim Minchin gets Judas.)

I like to think the Well done, Judas / Good old Judas chorus is sort of the voice of the Divine Plan, such as it is, which he's now done his first part in.

"The Last Supper" has slowly become one of my favorite parts of the entire show, and I particularly enjoy it in this particular production.

Judas walks in and doesn't look at Jesus at all - can't quite bear to, at the moment. Jesus looks after him, knowing exactly what's going on... and that's when he starts in on The end is just a little harder when brought about by friends.

Jesus has a drink of the wine, which I like a lot. This definitely is a drinking sort of moment. I like the idea of him being a little inebriated in this scene.

For all you care, this wine could be my blood. For all you care, this bread could be my body. The end... This is my blood you drink, this is my body you eat. Judas reflexively rolls his eyes again - Jesus off on one of these weird sorts of rants yet again. (As with so much, I love that Jesus Christ Superstar takes this bit of the Bible and lets it just be a weird thing to say, recontextualizes it as an empty, halfhearted statement that he doesn't feel like his followers even care hours before his impending arrest, instead of treating it as something profound and meaningful. Again and again, Jesus is portrayed less as a noble profound religious figure and more as just a person haunted by mounting dread and anxiety, and I love it so much.)

Jesus sort of tries to make this into a nice, comforting thing, to ask them to remember him when they eat and drink - but it doesn't work. It's happening tonight, and here they all are, these people, his supposed followers, who don't understand a thing he's said, ever, and Jesus just breaks. I must be mad, thinking I'll be remembered! Yes, I must be out of my head! Look at your blank faces! My name will mean nothing ten minutes after I'm dead! (Judas looks up vaguely, kind of concerned - Jesus, this is further than he usually goes.) One of you denies me, one of you betrays me! And that's when Judas really looks up. Jesus knows.

There's a pause, a commotion, and Jesus is going to just retreat and leave it at that - but no, then he keeps going. He calls out Peter specifically for being about to deny him three times, shoving him, and then yells about how one of my twelve chosen will leave to betray me! At which Judas finally stands up. Cut out the dramatics! You know very well who! It's obvious that somehow Jesus found out. (Maybe Judas thinks the guitarist might have told on him.)

Judas's surprised You want me to do it? when Jesus tells him to go do it delights me. Judas, I thought you knew that Jesus totally wanted you to do this. It's almost like you didn't really know that at all and just convinced yourself of that to feel better about it. (Obviously, though, Jesus clearly doesn't actually want it so much, does he, the way he's shouting.)

Judas tries to explain himself but Jesus doesn't care - he doesn’t want to hear about why one of his most trusted friends wants to betray him to the authorities, not when this has to happen and he can’t prevent it. Judas is really nervous and defensive and hurt by his hostility, declares he hates Jesus now. (You liar, you Judas! Jesus says, which is kind of hilarious and also - yeah, he's a liar, he doesn't hate Jesus at all.) You wanted me to do it? What if I just stayed here and ruined your ambition? Christ, you deserve it! Judas still kind of wants to just stay and cancel the whole thing, even if it's simply justified as petulant spite. But Jesus tells him to just go already; he just wants to get this over with, as quickly as possible, because it hurts.

Judas is near tears as he turns away to get his things. The apostles have no idea what's going on, singing, some of them trying to see if Judas is okay, which suggests they have no idea what they were even talking about - whatever this 'betrayal' is supposed to be, it doesn’t cross their minds that Judas is about to get Jesus arrested.

Judas trudges up the steps, batting them away, still on the verge of tears - only then he stops, his face changing. And he throws down his backpack and turns for one final confrontation with Jesus. You sad, pathetic man! Look what you've brought us to! Our ideals die around us, and all because of you! This is still about their ideals for him, after all. And yet, saddest of all, someone had to turn Jesus in - like a common criminal, he first says, but then, like a wounded animal, someone helpless to help themselves, who needs to be pitied and put out of their misery. Jesus could have done something. Jesus could have put a stop to this. Why does he have to do it? (Why does he have to do it?)

Every time I look at you, I don't understand why you let the things you did get so out of hand. You'd have managed better if you'd had it planned. Why? Jesus does have a plan, of sorts, of course - it's just that this is all part of it. Judas doesn't believe Jesus is actually the Son of God, or that he could possibly have a "plan" that involves dying for some grand cosmic cause. As far as he can tell Jesus's actions are just bizarre and pathetic and self-defeating, and he's been saddled with the unfortunate, dirty job of saving Jesus from himself.

(Judas presumably still doesn't realize that the Pharisees plan to literally have him killed. I doubt he'd be doing this, or at least not in this way, if he knew.)

In the wake of this final confrontation, Mary hugs Peter, who Jesus just shoved and accused of denying him. She considers going to Jesus too, but Peter convinces her they'd probably best leave it alone. Peter himself seems to be considering going to Jesus, but then doesn't. Everyone dejectedly goes to sleep. Jesus is alone for tonight, his apostles alienated, his right-hand man gone as Jesus must wait for him to return with soldiers and set the dreaded end in motion. This must be the loneliest, most awful night of his life.

Jesus rubs his hand hard against a stair as the apostles are finishing their song - an agitated fidget that I am far more fond of than I should be. As he realizes they've all gone to sleep, he grips it instead, something to hold on to. Will no one stay awake with me? Peter, John, James? He just sounds broken and like he's about to cry. Which is good. He sings all of Gethsemane sounding like he's on the verge of tears and that's exactly how it should sound, do not at me.

(Please bear with me as I go on about this Gethsemane because it's my favorite one ever at this point, haters to the left)

See, when I first saw this production (I saw the official recording once before I realized it was still on and I could see it live), I didn't really like Ben Forster's Jesus for the first half! He seemed sort of over-the-top and I wasn't the biggest fan of his voice and all in all I was ehhh on him. But then he did "Gethsemane" and I just felt it to my core in a way I'd never felt it before, and it floored me. I've watched and listened to a lot of versions of this song. There are better singers who make it more pleasant to listen to - but they tend to be very dignified and Jesus-y about it, like this poised religious figure just having a brief moment of vulnerability and emotionality. Even the performances specifically praised for being emotional tend to be the ones that just make it really angry. And I've seen a lot of great ones of both varieties! But Ben Forster just makes it so raw and human. Like this terrified, exhausted, desperate human being who's spent the entire preceding hour of this play dreading this thing that's coming, his resolve finally faltering in this moment of agonizing solitude as his doubts and fears and frustrations finally come pouring out, how much he wants to call the whole thing off, begging to either not have to do this or at least be properly convinced why he should. It's what made me properly start to look at Jesus's character progression during this story in the first place and notice all the buildup about his fragile mental state that's always been there in the lyrics. This is the “Gethsemane” that made me really, truly care about Jesus.

he's rubbing the stair again at the beginning of the song, I'm sorry I love fidgets and nervous gestures you guys

I've never heard anyone emphasize three years the way Ben Forster does, and the desperation of it hits me in the heart. Weren't these three years enough?

Let's talk about You're far too keen on where and how, and not so hot on why, which is pretty key to this show’s interpretation of Jesus. He and the Almighty are definitively not the same entity here; Jesus knows or believes he knows a lot of things about how this is all going to play out, and even some of the future beyond that (in "Poor Jerusalem"), but he doesn't actually understand what his death is supposed to accomplish. He knows that he's going to be crucified and it's going to happen because Judas betrays him and so on and so on, and that this is all supposedly very important, and Jesus has been willing to accept that without question, but really he doesn't know the whys here and never has, and as much as he's just never questioned it anyway because of his absolute conviction that this is God’s plan, he can't not do so now, when he's going to have to suffer an agonizing death in the service of these inscrutable goals, not sometime in the vague far future but soon.

(Technically, for all we know, Jesus isn’t the Son of God. God doesn’t answer him; the song is a monologue. Jesus has suspiciously specific knowledge of the future but that’s about it as far as actual concrete evidence of his divinity goes in this show. But what matters is that he believes this is what God wills.)

His initial All right. I'll die. Just watch me die! is so spiteful, only for the following lines to just turn into this anguished scream, and it kills me

I love the way he collapses on the stairs, and just finally breaks down and starts crying, and there's that agitated rubbing of the stair again

The second three years is just exhausted and my heart still breaks for it. These have been a hard three years. Seems like ninety.

Why then am I scared to finish is probably my favorite line in this. He just sounds so broken and desperate and actually scared, and his body language is so tense and agitated and desperate; he's so angry at himself for being scared when this has been the plan all along and for some reason now he just can’t seem to go through with it.

And then he has that realization. What I started? ...What you started. I didn't start it! This isn't his plan. He's just a cog in God's machinery. It's a fixed, unavoidable fate, isn't it? And he finds a kind of desperate acceptance in just thinking of it that way - at least for a moment (before I change my mind!). But it's a spiteful acceptance. He's addressing God now. I will drink your cup of poison, nail me to your cross and break me, bleed me, beat me, kill me, take me now! Because it's you who are doing this. It's your cross, you who are killing me. Note the contrast to earlier: Let them hate me, hit me, hurt me, nail me to their tree. It's not actually the people who are responsible for any of this, even if they’ll technically be the ones to do the deed; it's God's plan, his cross, his crucifixion.

I love how he looks so tense standing there afterwards while the audience is applauding, because he's not actually waiting for applause, he's waiting for the soldiers to arrest him and set him on the path to his execution. Arms spread at first, in a come at me sort of way, but then he just clenches his fists at his sides, eyes closed, still waiting.

There he is. They're all asleep, the fools. Implying Judas wouldn't have just gone to sleep, if he'd been left there. AU where Jesus has literally anyone to comfort him, instead of standing there alone desperately pleading to God to not have him killed. Hnngh.

The kiss is just as it is in the Bible, of course. But there, it's presented as a sort of extra nasty element of this betrayal, that he'd be betrayed with a kiss. Here, it's more like Judas just wants to say goodbye, one last time, and does it in this kind of tender way.

And... Jesus breaks down crying, clings to him, pulls him into a hug. Because of course he does. The reminder that Judas still cares, memories of everything they've been through together, and the knowledge this is probably his last chance at some kind of comforting human contact? Of course he does. He just wants to not be alone, for a few seconds, before the end.

At first Judas just sort of lets him do it, but by the time the soldiers come along to separate them, Judas is clinging to Jesus, too. Ohh, my heart.

The apostles wake up at the commotion and are immediately on their feet to fight off the soldiers. There is not a man among you who knows or cares if I come or go, Jesus said, a few days ago; now here they are, worrying for him, wanting to save him. But he has to stop them. He mustn't be saved, and they'd only get themselves hurt. Put away your sword - don't you see that it's all over? It was nice but now it's gone. That exhausted resignation.

Why are you obsessed with fighting? Stick to fishing from now on. He doesn't sound angry here - it's just kind of a gentle rebuke. He's touched that they tried. I like that he plays it that way; it'd be legit to make it angry, but in the context of how Jesus has spent a lot of time feeling like they don't really care at all and in this moment it finally becomes clearer to him that they do - not to mention that this is basically his final goodbye to them - it makes sense to let it be kind of tender.

From this point on, Jesus has to just quietly accept his fate. He's very silent, barely says anything - because now things just have to play out how they play out, and nothing he says will change anything, nor should change anything.

The reporters asking questions here (to the melody of "The Temple") are one of the relatively few major anachronisms baked into the actual lyrics as opposed to any particular production. They're not really reporters; it's kind of a representation of some of his previous followers watching this as a kind of spectacle, expecting him to make a dramatic escape or fight back, excited by what's happening (you'll just DIE in the high priest's house!), rather than sympathizing or caring. These are the people who are going to ultimately turn against him as a mob and pressure Pilate into crucifying him.

Caiaphas asks if Jesus is the Son of God. Jesus says That's what you say, yet another line based directly on the Bible. Growing up I always just found that kind of a silly thing for him to say - why won't he just stick to his story instead of suddenly acting like he never said such a thing? But it makes real sense here. Again, Jesus is resigned to his fate, to passively letting this happen. He's not going to deny it or try to get out of it, because he can't and mustn't. But he has no desire to speak up about how the rocks and stones will sing for him right now, or actively provoke them and give them more reasons to persecute him. He's just going to stand here and let things happen until it's over.

(also, he probably doesn't really feel so much like the Son of God right now)

Judas, thank you for the victim! Stay a while and you'll see him bleed! In this production, Caiaphas and Annas both say the last sentence together, but originally it's just Annas, which has always led me to feel that where Caiaphas is pure cold pragmatism and just believes this is what needs to be done for the sake of the nation, Annas is bit of a twisted son of a bitch. He's obviously intentionally twisting the knife here, because he thinks Judas's conflictedness about the whole thing is a bit pathetic and hilarious and likes to see him squirm.

(let me complain again about the editor not letting us see Judas's reaction to this line)

Peter's reluctance to throw his phone on the fire is a mood

also him threatening the homeless people with a broken bottle when they keep pressing him on whether he was with Jesus, before Mary takes it off him, is something I enjoy

Pilate and Christ probably takes place at Pilate’s gym in this staging to show Pilate hasn’t even made time for Jesus in an official capacity - he’s just being unexpectedly brought before him in his off time, hence why he’s particularly dismissive here.

Jesus barely looks at Pilate. Another dispassionate That's what you say.

How can someone in your state be so cool about his fate? An amazing thing, this silent king. Of course, Pilate doesn't understand any more than anyone else that Jesus being crucified is the plan. Again, Jesus is just letting this play out.

He does look up when Pilate declares he should go to Herod instead, though. It must be torture for him having this drawn out further. Poor Jesus, having to suffer through a comic relief number when he just wants to get this over with.

Jesus does look at Herod as he's making all these offers of letting him free if he'll just perform a miracle. It's got to be a tempting thought despite everything. But no, he must still sit there and let it happen.

"These results are for entertainment purposes only and do not reflect any real votes. The outcome is predetermined by the character of King Herod who clearly is going to find Jesus guilty of being a fraud otherwise it would be a very short Act 2." Going all the way with that fourth-wall-breaking.

the bit where they put the hood over Jesus's head sure hits some specific button I didn't realize I had

Judas there with his head buried in his hands in the background towards the end of "Could We Start Again Please" ohhhh

I feel like the usual implication with the abrupt opening of "Judas's Death" is that Judas has just been seeing Jesus being beaten, whereas here he's explicitly sitting there with the apostles contemplating what he's done and just gets up and freaks out when Caiaphas and Annas happen to walk by. I like him punching Caiaphas, but the way he just goes from zero to sixty there does feel a little weird. I don't care, though, Judas in the background during "Could We Start Again Please" is worth it.

For all that Judas is mortified by the way Jesus is being made an example of, he can also see the way his name will forever be associated with treachery, and none of his good intentions meant anything at all in the end. He’s wracked with guilt at what he’s done, but additionally all he can see in the future is being vilified and reviled, blamed for Jesus’s murder.

Ugh Annas kicking Judas while he's down he's such a bastard

Tim Minchin goes so all out on making "Judas's Death" just ugly anguished screaming and crying and I am so here for it.

Judas has never believed in the divinity of Jesus, but Jesus has some strange, intense, frightening quality that both Judas and Mary can feel, and just before his final breakdown, although Judas is telling himself that He's a man - he's just a man!, he seems to be starting to feel that that's not quite true: he starts to wonder if Jesus will leave him be after his death, and then right after the "I Don't Know How to Love Him" reprise is where his mental state takes a turn as he realizes God is behind all this, that perhaps the whole thing was planned.

The projecting images of Jesus' torment up onto the background screen as Judas is despairing is also very good - Jesus hasn't even been sentenced yet but he knows where this is headed and he sure is imagining it and feeling responsible for it.

Judas, like Jesus, concludes here that it's God who orchestrated all this and he never got a choice. In his case, though, it's serving as a way of running from his guilt. We got to hear all about his reasons for thinking this was the right thing to do, after all - it's not as if he was literally controlled into anything. He didn't realize he was dooming Jesus to a horrible death at the time, but he still did it of his own free will. And it isn't a real comfort - all it means is that in his final anguished moments he has someone to scream his despair at. You have murdered me!

(hang me from your tree)

the particular scream and sob that he does as he kicks the box out from under him hits my buttons very hard hhhh

Poor old Judas, so long, Judas, goes the Plan chorus. There's a pretty callous quality to that, appropriately enough for a very callous Plan involving a lot of suffering.

Please give my compliments to the sound designer who makes a point of turning on Jesus' microphone so we can hear his strained breathing before "Trial Before Pilate" begins

Jesus's resolve to say nothing of substance is breaking by this point, and he actually answers Pilate's "Where is your kingdom?" I have got no kingdom in this world, I'm through, through, through - there may be a kingdom for me somewhere, if I only knew. It's probably pretty hard to feel like he's headed for a triumphant resurrection right now, and the fact he's spilling those doubts to Pilate in a moment of frustrated honesty is pretty tragic.

(Some versions, including the 1973 movie, change this lyric to if you only knew. No! Bad! The whole point here is Jesus doubting it! If you want to change it you should not be putting on this show!)

Then he's a king? It’s what you say I am! I look for truth and find that I get damned! This frustration coming out here is so good.

Pilate's frustration is very good too - just dripping off every line. This mob of people insisting he sentence this harmless fool to death (one who reminds him uncomfortably of this dream that he had the other day), crowing about Caesar all of a sudden like they're oh so very concerned with protecting Caesar's authority.

As Jesus once again refuses to talk, there’s a brief mournful instrumental interlude before Look at your Jesus Christ - this is a slowed-down version of a bit of “Prescience”, the motif from “Pilate’s Dream”. He remembers that unsettling dream, consciously or unconsciously, and feels sympathy and pity for this strange man before him. After that is when he begins to argue that Jesus hasn’t committed any crime and there’s no reason to kill him.

can we appreciate that Webber and Rice went and made a song called "The 39 Lashes" that's literally just Pilate counting excruciatingly to 39 while Jesus screams in pain

can we also appreciate Jesus writhing on the floor after rolling down the stairs, Ben Forster really goes for it in acting out all this pain and torture and I love him for it

Why do you not speak when I have your life in my hands? asks Pilate, and Jesus just about musters the energy to say, You have nothing in your hands. Any power you have comes to you from far beyond - everything is fixed and you can't change it! He's kind of desperate to make Pilate understand this. Pilate keeps on trying to get Jesus to say something that'll let him release him, but that can't happen, because this must be so. Pilate needs to just play his part and get it over with, please get it over with.

And so, Pilate has to appease the mob and let him die, even though he doesn't want to at all, and tries to wash his hands of it. Much like in his dream, though, he'll in fact be remembered as the guy who sentenced Jesus to death. Clearly didn't wash your hands well enough, Pilate

It's such a delightfully bold creative decision to place an upbeat number like "Superstar" right here as Jesus is about to be crucified.

It's fascinating to see the differences in how this song in particular is staged; it's so abstract and disconnected that different directors really go nuts with it. Some productions, including the 2000 movie, imply Judas has come out of Hell to taunt him; the movie in particular makes a point of having Judas lazily, cruelly stand on the cross while Jesus is trying to carry it, grinning at his agony, surrounded by scantily clad demon women, though he has a moment of doubt and guilt as Jesus stares at him. (That movie generally posits Judas as not in control of his actions at all - so God is apparently basically just making him do this as part of his torture in Hell, which is delightfully twisted.) Others (including this one and the 1973 movie) have him among angels, as if he's descended from Heaven. In the 1973 movie Carl Anderson seems largely to just be singing it to himself - it cuts to Jesus carrying the cross a few times, but Judas isn't there.

Here, "Superstar" feels a bit like a delirious hallucination Jesus is experiencing. Judas descends on the stage lights that are about to form the cross (what an entrance) and performs the song surrounded by angels while Jesus is being affixed to the cross; they look at each other, but Judas doesn't really interact with him. There's definitely no taunting; Tim Minchin plays it in a very good-natured way, not even the kind of angry questioning of Carl Anderson in the 1973 movie. Effectively, despite the hallucinatory vibes, the way it comes across to me is Judas really is actually there in spirit, from a timeless afterlife, having had an eternity to think and come to terms with and understand what Jesus was doing - and finally just asking him some questions, without judgement. Is he what they say he is? What does he think about Buddha and Mohammed? Why didn't he choose a different time period where it would've been easier to spread his message? Did he know his death would inspire millions? It's all a sort of musing, fourth-wall-leaning modern perspective, not hostile, just curious.

Also this version just makes me happy because Judas seems happy and mentally at peace in the afterlife and who doesn't want that

Anyway, from that to Jesus crying on the cross. And I mean crying. Once again Ben Forster delivers the human suffering element of this story. "The Crucifixion" is a weird, weird song, chaotic and noisy and kind of offputting and tends to feel sort of inappropriate for the mood; in this production you don't even notice because the staging is so brutal. There's no cool symbolic dignity to this; Jesus is just crying and screaming and sobbing the whole time, yelling the disconnected final-words lines in an agonized, delirious haze. You actually believe you're watching a man dying in agony, God damn. It hurts and I love it.

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? is the most gutwrenching line, of course. (And straight out of the Bible, lest we forget - I think it’s fascinating that in the likely oldest gospel of Mark as well as Matthew, this horrible, heartwrenching, human cry is all he says on the cross, while the gospels of John and Luke instead each feature their own disjoint sets of more profound-sounding sayings. It’s hard not to wonder if the other lines might be inventions by those gospels’ human authors or their sources, people who perhaps just didn’t want Jesus’s final words to be something so achingly desperate and vulnerable.) He's done all this to carry out God's great plan, and yet in this moment, in the middle of this nightmare of slow, unending agony, he feels certain that God has abandoned him and he's just dying, alone, pointlessly, for nothing. Ow, my empathetic heart.

You can hear him feeling death approaching at last and the relief he feels at that realization just before It is finished and Father, into your hands I commend my spirit

(it's easier to believe again when his suffering is finally, mercifully about to end)

Ben Forster also does a very good job not visibly breathing when he's playing a corpse. On this blog we appreciate the little things.

I've always found it pretty neat and interesting that Jesus Christ Superstar does not include the resurrection or any allusion to it at all; he just dies on the cross, they mourn and carry him away, and the show ends. Again, the only thing in this show that’s at all supernatural is that Jesus seems to know the future, and even that is fairly ambiguous. It's a story about human suffering, and it's a hugely compelling story without him rising from the dead at the end, which'd just kind of cheapen it. You can imagine that he did, but this ending invites you to contemplate that this story is just as meaningful if he did not.

In conclusion, Jesus Christ Superstar is one of my absolute favorite things and the 2012 arena tour is my baby

Thank you for coming to my TED talk

#jesus christ superstar #ramble #review #character analysis #my buttons #holy jesus this is long #8500 words of JCS rambling #which is almost as much as I wrote about episode four of Breaking Bad

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rhub4rb · 4 years

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Home is Where the Heart is

AO3

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-_-_-_-

It was awkward in the living room. Marinette and Bruce were alone, for some apparent "bonding time" that was very much needed according to Alfred. Marinette scowled inwardly at the butler.

Bruce had gone along with adopting Marinette for Alfred, which she didn't quite understand. If anyone had any reason to be distrustful of her, it should be Bruce. She was in his city, fought his kids, had no history. Apparently adopting black-haired, blue-eyed kids was a habit of Bruce's.

She didn't really understand, but she appreciated it, if only somewhat.

"So..." Marinette said. "You adopt kids a lot?" Smooth Marinette, real smooth.

It worked, at least slightly, as Bruce raised an eyebrow at her. It was a reaction! But nothing more came of the topic. They went into silence again, and for a moment, Marinette wondered if he was considering taking back the adoption.

"I lost my parents too," Bruce suddenly said, and Marinette blinked, not even sure if he said anything at all. "I was 8 years old. Alfred took care of me growing up."

Marinette stayed quiet for a moment, unsure of what to say. Comfort, even if well-meant, didn't seem appropriate. So instead, she shared.

"I lost my parents a week before I came to Gotham," Marinette said, looking at her hands folded in her lap. "I stayed with my grandfather, and then he... he passed away too."

"Were you close?"

Her hands tightened.

"Very."

A moment passed before Bruce said, "No one can ever replace them." Marinette shook her head, feeling her nose starting to tingle as tears built up. She just wanted to go home. To France, to the bakery. To the ever-present scent of baked bread and bear hugs, to flour fights and game nights.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know you only did this because Alfred aske-"

"I didn't do this because Alfred asked me to," Bruce said, cutting her off. "He was going to have you under his custody, I was the one to request adopting you."

Marinette blinked, finally looking up at the man who had let her stay in his home, despite knowing that something shady was going on.

"But... why?"

"Do I need a reason why?" He asked, and Marinette was hit with how similar it sounded to what she told Tikki, once her plan against Hawkmoth had been solidified.

A tear slid down, followed by another one, and before Marinette could even think, her weeping echoed through the halls of the manor, leaving behind a ghost of what she was feeling. She didn't even notice him hugging her until he started shushing in her ear, rocking her back on forth, and it felt so similar to what her papa would do that she just started to cry harder.

It seemed like Bruce understood though. He said nothing, just tried to calm her down, yet still let her cry, let her grieve.

Breakfast the morning after was a quiet affair. Marinette was certain that the other members of the family had heard her weeping, but none of them made a comment. It seemed that grief was a common feeling in this household, and Marinette didn't know whether to be relieved or worried.

It eased the awkward tension that was usually in the dining room, but the fact that Jason was gone somewhere probably helped too, though Marinette had the distinct feeling that he was avoiding her as much as possible.

She couldn't say, it wasn't like they had spent time together as she and Tim had, but maybe it was the looks he would sometimes send her way when he thought she wouldn't notice, questioning and doubtful.

Maybe she wasn't the most forthcoming with him either. Whatever magic that was used on him, used to bring him back, was reeking off of him, pulsating and angry, as if trying to scare her away. It could perhaps be the magic that was causing him to avoid her, and he simply didn't realize it. Or maybe he did, but refrained from saying anything.

Doing a cursory glance around the room, it seemed like almost everyone present had at one point passed away, save for herself and Tim.

Marinette wondered what caused these people to be so willing to give up everything to save lives when they got nothing in return. But then she looked at herself and realized that it was quite simple really.

The feeling of it just being the right thing to do could be strong at times, and maybe this family of vigilantes felt that too.

From what Tikki had told her, Marinette had been destined to be given the miraculous, that she was a true Ladybug. Marinette wasn't sure how to feel about that, that the fates had made such a decision about her before she was even born.

"What are you spacing out about?" Damian suddenly asked, cutting her thoughts off with a harsh tone.

"Nothing," she stated simply, to which he scoffed and turned up her nose.

"Figures you're empty in the head. Are you sure that you actually went to school before coming to Gotham?"

Marinette knew there was more to that question. They had looked her up by now, tried to find her, and they got nothing. All Damian was looking for was some type of confirmation, for her to deny any schooling so he could bust her on something he already knew the answer to.

"Yeah," Marinette said. "I've gone to the same school all my life. I skipped a grade back in elementaire."

This seemed to catch the attention of the other table occupants, Bruce looking up with raised brows.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I did pretty well in college too, though I don't really know what I should do now," she admitted a little reluctantly.

Her dream had always been to design, but now... that dream felt far away, like it was part of the life that she erased, along with everything else. Marinette shrugged.

"It's not like I'm an idiot or something, I did well in school and I worked hard for my grades, it's just... school hasn't exactly been on the forefront of my mind."

"We can discuss what you want to do later," Bruce said, and Marinette nodded, just glad that the topic was dropped for now.

Damian just continued to scowl.

"Why did you let her stay?"

Bruce let out a tired sigh as Damian asked him the question again, not the first time in the week that Damian had cornered him.

"You know, she asked me that question too," Bruce said. Damian just scoffed.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Why do you have such a problem with her staying here?" Bruce asked instead of actually telling Damian what he wanted to know.

"I feel like it's obvious! She shouldn't even be here in the first place!" Damian exclaimed. "You trust Alfred too much sometimes."

Bruce felt a spike of anger grow at this, protectiveness of the father figure of his life rising.

"I have a reason to trust Alfred as much as I do," Bruce said with an air of finality that Damian ignored in favor of continuing the argument.

"He's human, he makes mistakes," Damian said. "How do you know he hasn't misplaced his trust in that girl? How do you know she isn't just playing him to get to us?"

"There are certainly more effective ways to do that than to go through the butler, don't you think?" Bruce asked rhetorically. "If she wanted to do something to us, she would have done so by now."

"I still think you're being a fool for trusting her so easily."

There was silence between the two, Bruce refusing to answer his son at this point, and Damian refusing to step down on the idea that Marinette could maybe be trustworthy.

Of course, Bruce didn't trust Marinette. He hadn't told her about the Batcave and their nightly activities for a reason, but he wasn't about to throw her out either, not after what happened the night before, not after Alfred had already told him that the girl had nowhere to go.

Maybe he really did have a bad habit of adopting kids, but he gave them lives that were better, didn't he? An outlet for all their frustrations against the world. Heck, according to Alfred, Marinette slept in an abandoned building somewhere until she found the butler.

Leaving her now felt wrong, and besides, this way they could keep an even closer eye on her, even if she did hardly leave her room. She and Tim frequently talked apparently, not that Bruce would know. Tim was awake at the most absurd of hours, but his third son seemed to trust her well enough.

It made sense to keep her around.

She was a mystery waiting to be solved, and they were supposed to be the world's greatest detectives. If that was the truth, then they should be able to figure out what was really going on.

"I still think it's a mistake to let her stay."

"Then it's a good thing that this isn't your decision to make."

Marinette and Tim were once again in the kitchen in the middle of the night, neither of them able to sleep yet. It had become an almost nightly ritual at this point, not that Marinette minded much.

"Damian really doesn't like me much, does he?" Marinette noted absentmindedly while she was sketching. She hadn't talked about her shaky relation with Damian to anyone, but it was really starting to get on her nerves.

After their last confrontation, Marinette largely left him alone. She didn't feel like getting yelled at by someone who was only a year older than herself, but she still felt the stink-eye he would send her way, the way he would complain about her to Bruce.

"Don't mind him, he's a brat most of the time, even when he's in a good mood," Tim said, typing away on his computer.

Marinette just hummed, though her sketching slowed. It was weird. She hadn't had this much trouble with a person since Lila, and that was years ago. It didn't help that Marinette already felt like a burden to the family, she didn't tell Bruce to adopt her, she didn't tell Alfred to look out for her this way.

She didn't even realize that she had stopped sketching completely until Tim called out to her.

"This is really getting to you, isn't it?" Tim asked.

Marinette bit her lip before reluctantly nodding.

Tim sighed. "Damian didn't have an easy childhood," he told her. "He might feel threatened by you here."

"But why would he feel threatened? I'm not trying to take his family from him or anything."

"Of course!" Tim admitted. "But Damian is used to things being taken from him, all of us are. He doesn't want to lose it all."

Marinette could understand that. After Paris, after losing everything, even herself, she could only understand it too well.

"I just don't know what to do," Marinette whispered, her voice cracking.

"Give him time, it took a while before he started trusting us too," Tim said, putting a comforting hand over hers. "He'll come around at some point."

Marinette wasn't so sure about that, but she didn't say that to Tim. Instead, she nodded and went back to sketching. Peace once again entered the kitchen, though Marinette's mind was still swirling with the Damian issue.

Suddenly, a box is placed on her sketchbook, and Marinette looks up at Tim questioning.

"Don't take what Damian says too seriously, he really is just a brat most of the time. As for that," Tim said, nodding towards the small black box he placed on her sketchbook. "That's a gift from me to you."

Slowly, Marinette lifted the lid of the box, revealing a sleek black phone.

"I figured you might need one," he explained.

Marinette looked wide-eyed at the phone, then back at Tim, before looking at the phone again and slowly shaking her head.

"I can't accept this-"

"You've had a rough couple of days. Take it."

A second passed, two, before Marinette lunged herself towards Tim, engulfing him in a tight hug.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She squealed quietly, mindful of the others still sleeping.

-_-_-_-

@constancetruggle @mojos-biggest-fan @lysslovesanime @heredmaquam @luciferge @scribblinggraveyard @thatfandomsgirl @eliza-bich @ki77h3dr4g0n @crazylittlemunchkin @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @skyel0ve @serenacross200 @valeks-princess @thebananathatwrites @aurordraws @nothernbluetongue @bluerosette23 @xxmadamjinxx @graduatedmelon @tritaledkitsune @tinybrie @shamefullove @screechingflapbiscuitpeach @danielslilangel @vivilakitty @kurogaya913 @elspethshadow @theatreandcomicfreak

#marijon #joninette #jonette #home is where the heart is #maribat

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incoherentbabblings · 4 years

Text

An Endless Hope (2/9)

After a horrendous blizzard falls over Gotham, Tim undergoes a sharp change in character before disappearing. Upon discovering what has become of him, Stephanie sets off on a solo journey in a magic realm to bring him home, meeting some faces which seems awfully familiar along the way.

Archive Of Our Own Link Click Click!

“Our tires have gone. Cracked and popped.” Red Robin reported, switching the interior car lights on, as Stephanie pulled out a small laptop tablet, switching to checking satellite views of the city. Tim peered at his dashboard, noting, “GPS says we’re down by Stagg Enterprises and the Trigate bridge but honestly… it’s reached whiteout. We can get out and –”

“No.” Batman interrupted. “Stay put. If your tires have frozen up it’s too cold for our suits for any trek across the city. I’m not far in my car. Signal, Robin, what did you find?”

“Mr. Freeze is a dead end.” Duke said over the commlink. “He made the valid point of this not doing much for his research. He was worried about the power outage.”

Red Robin and Batgirl, sat in Tim’s redbird car, watched the snow fly around them, heating blasting out hot air to keep the car and them from freezing. Tim peered out the windscreen, whiteout leaving them blind to the world. They could leave, but it was approaching minus thirty. Their regular suits were good… but not that good. For the moment, they were stranded, waiting for Bruce and his tank of a Batmobile to come to the rescue.

“It’s bizarre.” Batgirl said, scrolling through data. “Weather doesn’t work like this. The storm is just over Gotham. That’s not…that’s not physically possible. Blizzards are usually hundreds of miles wide. Not thirty and constricted to a bay. It came out of nowhere. There’s no way the air could grow cold that fast to freeze all that water naturally. And the wind is at eighty miles per hour. Normally it’s around forty.”

“The Flash has a weather themed villain.” Robin supplied.

“I checked.” Cassandra’s quiet voice, barely audible over the storm she was standing in, came over the speakers. The screaming wind cut off when she got inside, the door of wherever she was slamming shut. “He’s in Iron Heights. It’s not him.”

Stephanie continued to look through local news, in and outside of the city, desperate for someone over social media to have spotted something manmade about the phenomena. Tim jolted next to her violently, hands flailing over the steering wheel.

“Someone walk over your grave?”

“What?”

Stephanie put down the tablet and leaned over, staring at the white surrounding them. “Or did you see something?”

“You’d think I was crazy.”

“I’ve learned not to doubt gut instincts, Red Robin. They’re there for a reason. Especially yours.” Unable to spot anything but white, she looked back at him. Like her, his cowl was down, his nose red, skin very white. He looked frightened and instantly Stephanie became alarmed. “What is it? Did you see something?”

She whirled back around, hair falling around her shoulders and back. It really was too long at this point, but Tim reached up and tangled his fingers into it. Something to hold onto. He tried not to tug on her too hard.

“I just think someone’s watching us... me.”

“What? Who? Bad guy?”

“I think I’m seeing things.”

Stephanie hummed, slowly retreating into her seat.

“I’ll bop ‘em if they hurt you.”

Colour returned to Tim’s cheeks, and he smiled. “I know.”

The sound of roaring engines became audible over the car’s heating, and a little too close for comfort, the black Batmobile emerged, parking directly in front.

“Get in you two. I can’t drag the car with your tires gone. Lock it down, Red Robin. When the storm lessens, we’ll retrieve it.”

“Go ahead Batgirl. Locking it down will take a second.”

“’Kay.” She kicked her way out, fighting against the wind. Her cape, weighted so it wouldn’t fly up and around her face in such conditions, billowed out behind her, but her hair flew up and around her face. It made her stumble a little ungraciously as she felt her way around the car, opening the door enough to slide in the back.

“Jesus.” She breathed. Batman was looking over his shoulder, checking she was unharmed.

“I told you to cut your hair.”

“Yeah, yeah. I braided it but the wind…”

Bruce grunted. “We can’t do anything. We give it two more hours to show signs of passing. If not –”

“Call in the League?”

Batman’s face indicated he was not happy with the idea, but it was still the best solution. They were trained for street level crime, not climate change.

Tim tumbled in a moment later, shaking from the cold, slapping the ice and snow that had collected on his costume. Reaching across, Stephanie took off her gloves and placed her warm fingers on his cheeks, hissing at the cold. Tim sighed and closed his eyes, shivering.

“Where’s the others?” Stephanie asked, watching Tim’s shudders lessen as he warmed up again.

Bruce set off, heading back to Bristol.

“In the city tunnels. A lot of people are taking shelter there. They’ll be heading back now. We just have to wait it out for now.”

Stephanie did not miss the loathing in his tone at such an inaction.

“We can’t do anything for the time being.” Tim stated. “But when it passes –”

“If it passes.” Batman grumbled.

“–Then we’ll work overtime to help with recovery.”

Stephanie nodded emphatically in agreement.

“It’s not good enough.” Bruce muttered.

Stephanie went to remove her hands from Tim but to her shock he actually reached up and snatched her wrists, pulling her back. Damn, he really was cold. Usually he wasn’t that grabby.

“Sometimes ‘not good enough’ is all we can do.” Tim bit back.

Holding her breath, noting the tension in the car rising with the steady hot air being blasted, Stephanie pinched Tim’s nose, desperate to break the potential argument. Tim looked at her, a little outraged. Stephanie ignored him, speaking to Batman,

“Whoever did this – if it is a who – we’ll hold them to account.”

It really wasn’t good enough, and Bruce did not respond. The drive back was odd, Bruce relying on technology to navigate through the city. As soon as they cleared the bridge however, visibility resumed. It was a blizzard – a bad one – but nothing compared to what seemed to be only growing in intensity over the three main islands of Gotham.

When they arrived back at the cave, Stephanie asked Alfred to take a look at Tim, worried about his body temperature. She snuggled up to him, arms wrapped around his waist, cheek to cheek, as she tried to erase his shivering.

“Honey, why are you so cold? We weren’t exposed long.”

“Just feel cold. Like in my bones.”

She rubbed his back, trying to friction up some heat.

“Cuddle away then.”

“You’re like a furnace. It’s nice.” He sighed.

Alfred came over, took one look at Tim and shrugged off any major concern.

“Just a chill.” He confirmed after taking Tim’s temperature. “Take a warm – not hot – shower.”

“Sure Alfred.”

He went to walk off, hand around Stephanie’s, but she dug her feet in.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m gonna wait for the others to come back safe.”

Tim blinked, then looked down at his grip. She wasn’t showing it, but with a dropping sensation in his stomach, he realised how tightly he was squeezing her. Mechanically, finger by finger, he let go.

“Yeah. Sorry. I’ll be a little bit.”

She smiled, worry leaking through, and he dashed off. She flexed her wrist, hissing a little at its stiffness. Tim was just spooked by the weather, she told herself. Nothing more.

The others returned soon enough, following the city sewer systems back to the cave entrance. Tim eventually came back too, in warmer clothes, dry hair and a calmer disposition, and everyone sat by the computer, and waited.

*****

“How certain are you of this lead?” Tim asked three mornings later.

Bruce ran a hand across his face. It had been a long three days, Wayne Enterprises was going to be funding quite a number of building sites and repairs to basic utilities over the coming weeks, but for now, the weather had calmed enough for people to emerge from the lockdown. The streets were now filled with people enjoying the snow, to which Tim couldn’t blame them. There was something beautiful about freshly fallen snow and a horizon which blurred the line between sky and ground.

“Not very,” Bruce admitted, approaching the piano. “Hence why I’m only taking Robin with me.”

Damian’s little chest puffed out – proud to be the chosen one to accompany his father. Bruce looked at Stephanie, Tim, Duke and Cassandra as he spoke, deliberately holding their gaze to convey the importance he held their task.

“You four are remaining in Gotham. I’m trusting you to look after it until we get back. There shouldn’t be any major operations. The river is frozen, and many roads are blocked still with up to six feet of snow. But still, do what you can.”

“Be safe.” Cassandra urged.

Stephanie gave a tiny wave to Damian, who’s hand twitched to return the goodbye, but thought better of it, and he tutted and turned to follow.

Uncomfortable silence filled the house as the clock closed behind the two, leaving the four remaining members of the family stood awkwardly.

“Now what?” Steph asked, pushing back the heavy curtains to peer outside. “College is cancelled, no schools, no work… At least the snow has stopped. Should we monitor for problems or take a break… just for an afternoon.”

She looked back to smile at Duke, Cass and Tim, tilting her jaw outside. Cassandra clapped her hands in joy. “I saw on the tv people playing in the snow. I never have before.”

Duke gave an encouraging noise. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Snowball fight.”

Tim looked reluctant, until Stephanie elbowed him in the gut and agreed with Duke, saying, “Yeah. Sounds good. Need a bit of levity right now, huh?”

She raised her eyebrows, and Tim got the message.

“Oh! Yes. Sounds good!”

His tone was forcibly cheery, but he would warm up to the idea when actually outside, Stephanie thought.

Alfred, with the hearing of a bat, poked his head around a door frame. “Please wrap up warm, and shower when you are finished to bring your body temperature back up.”

“Can we have coco, Alfred?” Cassandra pled, eyes big as dinner plates.

“Yes, sounds a lovely idea. Try to get some joy from the terrible weather please, all of you.”

Cassandra burst off to get wrapped up, the other three trailing behind.

Stephanie laughed at Cassandra’s exuberance, trying to get her shoes on quicker. The Manor, built on the hill in the way it was, meant that the five feet of snowfall hadn’t reached the back door and steps. It did mean though, after some shoving by Cassandra, the door heaved open. She ran out, throwing herself down the stairs and onto a hug pile of freshly laid snow. She faceplanted with a shriek of joy, quickly creating snow angels. Stephanie trotted after her, calling,

“Cassie, have you ever made a snowman before?”

“No!”

“Me either. Help me?”

Tim watched for a little while as the girls – for a lack of a better term – frolicked in the white snow. Cassandra stood out more against the white, dressed from head to toe in black, Stephanie in that blinding white, purple and green jacket blended in a little more with the landscape. He was quite content to just sit on the salted steps and watch, but a solid smack to the back of his neck, snow and ice sneaking down his collar, made him squeal.

Duke laughed, “Bad form, dude! Gotta keep your eyes peeled!”

“Jesus!” Tim choked out, reflexively grabbing a pile of snow and flinging it back weakly. A snowball fight ensued.

Alfred watched the four from the kitchen window, more than a little delighted at the childish screams of joy that made their way across the Estate. At least some people were finding joy in such miserable weather. As an adult, snow only meant pain.

Transport difficulties, concerns about plumbing and electricity, would the roof cope? What if there’s flooding? Need to clear the sidewalks and drives and roads. Is there enough food to keep us going long enough for the storm to pass?

So many worries.

For children, it only meant wrapping up warmer, maybe missing a week of school, and games outside.

Never mind, let them enjoy it for a little while longer.

Alfred noted that flurries of snow had begun to fall, though immediately he could tell they snow was larger and slower falling than the other night. Still, the four had been outside for a couple of hours by this point, perhaps it was time for them to come in.

He moved away from the stove, turning off the heat on the milk, and making his way to the door to call them back in to warm up.

He managed to get the door open only to be met with a violent shriek from Tim, his body falling to the floor and curling up in a ball.

Instantly the frivolity stopped, and Stephanie burst across the snow. She wrapped around him, pushing his hand away from his eye. Cassandra and Duke hovered around, nervous and unsure.

“It wasn’t me.” Duke begged, “He was looking up, I didn’t throw anything at him.”

Stephanie cooed, trying to see the damage.

“What happened? Is it your eye? Did something get in your eye?”

“Get him inside so we can take a better look,” Alfred urged. “I worry the weather is only going to deteriorate.”

Alfred quickly put on the fire in one of the sitting areas and sat Tim down on the rug. He still had the heel of his palm pressed to his left eye socket. Cassandra and Duke continued to hover, nervous at the damage. Stephanie came through from the kitchen with a cold compact in case there was any swelling. She knelt in front of Tim.

“Can I see?”

Tim gave her a suspicious look, which she didn’t understand. Reaching him, she went to peel his hand away, and he flinched back. Her outreached hand froze in mid-air.

“Does it really hurt?” She asked. “Do we need to get to the hospital somehow?”

“No. I don’t want you touching me.”

She shook her head, reaching for him again. She tried to gently tease, “We can’t fix it if we can’t see what’s wrong. It’ll just take a second.”

Stephanie pushed back his hair from his forehead, as she always did to comfort him. She heard Cassandra gasp before she realised what happened, but Tim recoiled at the touch and – even worse – slapped her hand away from his face.

“I mean it. Don’t.”

It had been a while since he had directed such a sharp rebuke towards her. Her palm stung with the force he had smacked her with. Immediately, she entered a panic.

“You… Okay. I won’t. Sorry. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

His sneering look did not fade, and it made Stephanie get up off the floor. She passed the cold press to Alfred, who Tim, still looking supremely uncomfortable, allowed to examine the damage.

She left the room and the manor, sitting on the steps to try and calm down. Weird how one sharp word could make her feel like she was five years old again. The falling snow muffled the sounds of the Estate, and everything was eerily quiet, save the sound of her panicked breathing.

Immediately Cassandra came out and joined her, wrapping her up in a hug.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him.” Stephanie whined.

“I know.”

Stephanie leaned down, forehead resting on Cassandra’s bony arms. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise to me. He’ll feel bad later, and you can talk it out.”

Stephanie nodded, knowing Cassandra was right. In the meantime, she flexed her hand, the one Tim had hit so sharply.

“He’s yelled at me before…”

“But never looked at you like that?”

“No.” Stephanie’s lip quivered. “I’m overthinking it.”

“You aren’t yourself when you’re in pain.”

Stephanie nodded fervently and frantically. “Right, right.”

They sat still for a while, listening to the silence. Then the door opened once more. It was Tim. Immediately Stephanie was on her feet. His eye looked fine, not even bloodshot or swollen.

“Are you okay?” She asked. He looked at her, suspicion gone but now a little bored and pouty.

“Fine. Listen, can we go home now?”

“Home?”

“To the apartment.” Tim shuffled in place, looking disgruntled. “I’d drive myself but Alfred won’t let me. My eye is fine.”

Confused, but deciding to not make a scene until they were alone, Stephanie nodded. “I’ll have to go slow. I don’t know how much of the roads have been cleared.

“Whatever.” He murmured, looking distracted.

Cassandra gave Stephanie a look which was a little unreadable. Stephanie gave her thanks to Alfred, and waved goodbye to Duke.

The drive back was painful in every possible way. Stephanie’s little purple car was sturdy, but she still went much slower than normal. Tim curled up in his seat next to her, head pressed to his knees. She could see that with one hand he was aggressively clawing at the centre of his chest, near his heart. Neither spoke for the duration of the drive.

When they got parked up, he slowly and stiffly got up and out. Stephanie grabbed her phone and messaged Duke that they had survived the journey.

She arrived in the apartment after Tim, finding him looking around the space with his lip curled. He didn’t look impressed with the place, as if it wasn’t his own home that he had decorated and lived in.

She sat her bag down by the door, and walked over to him.

“Sweetie, are you sure you’re okay? I hurt you earlier.”

“No. You didn’t.” He said, moving through to the kitchen. Whatever he was looking for wasn’t to be found, and he migrated upstairs to their bedroom. She followed, anxious about leaving him alone.

“Can I see your eye? I’d feel better taking a look myself.”

He sighed like she had asked the world of him and plopped himself at the foot of their bed.

“Hurry up, then.”

She approached him like she would a rabid dog, turning on the overhead light so she could properly see. Gently, she rested her fingertips on his cheek and brow bone.

Like he said, there was nothing amiss.

“What happened?” She breathed. “If nothing hurt you –”

“You’re really warm.” He interrupted. His disinterested look became hungry, and Stephanie dropped her hands, only for Tim to catch her wrists. His fingers were frozen, which should not have been the case after a car ride where the heating had been keeping them toasty. Stephanie felt a lump of ice form in her gut.

“Tim, stop it. What’s going on?”

“Cold.” He murmured. He squeezed her wrists tighter, tight enough to make her twist out of his grip in fear. Immediately he stood up and wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling into to her. Stephanie became stiff, listening to him licking his lips and mutter, “You’re warm. Hot. Need…”

Backing off just enough to look her in the eye, his expression twitched, and naked panic appeared for just a moment. Trying to maintain a poker face, Stephanie released herself from his grip, unnerved. Removed from her warmth his apathy returned, and the tenseness in his posture fled.

Confused, Stephanie massaged her wrists, and tried to buy herself some time.

“Go take a nap and warm up. Okay? Just… Just go take a nap.”

He smiled at her, but not warmly. It was mocking. “Yes, mother.”

The feeling of dread only rose and spread. She felt like there was a permanent clump in her throat. Finding there was nothing she could say that wouldn’t result in an argument, she just turned and left, leaving Tim’s sardonic smirk behind.

He had never made her uncomfortable before. Never. He had been angry with her. He had argued with her. He had yelled at her, belittled her, and once or twice in moments they never spoke about, he had been physically violent with her (the unspoken excuse was, both times, he didn’t actually know it was her… as if that made it acceptable). But never had she been made to feel unsafe. Tim was predictable in his moods. Whatever was going on frightened her. She shouldn’t have come back alone with him.

Maybe she could message Cass or Duke…they could get here in around an hour and…

While her mind raced, she resolved to make some comfort food for dinner. She opened the fridge, finding casserole beef that would be out of date in two days, an onion, a carrot, and three potatoes.

“Good enough.” She muttered and set to work.

Two hours later, as the stew continued to cook slowly in the oven and she was washing the dishes, Tim came downstairs quietly. He made his way over to Stephanie, finding it a little amusing how she tensed up when he wrapped his arms around her waist.

Stephanie managed to not gasp out loud when he pulled her long hair out of the way and pressed kisses to her neck, but she couldn’t help the involuntary goosebumps and risen fine hairs. He was frigid.

“How are you feeling?” Stephanie asked.

“Had a nap.” He rested his sharp chin on her shoulder. “I made you worry, didn’t I?”

She said nothing at his patronising tone, not sure what to say. Yes, and you still are. What the hell is wrong with you right now? But no, she was trying to be good and not respond and set off an argument.

“My eye’s fine.” He continued.

“That’s good.” She said, slowly leaning back so she could take off the rubber gloves. The moment she did, one of his hands snaked down to intertwine with her own. That did make her gasp, and flinch, but his grip on her waist tightened.

“What are you making?”

“Some stew to warm you up.” She replied, voice aggressively chipper.

Tim looked over to the oven, unimpressed.

“It stinks.”

Somehow that was the breaking point for Steph, who threw her arms back and moved away.

“What is your problem, huh?”

He looked back, almost gleeful. “You’re upset.”

“No shit I’m upset! Something’s wrong! You got something in your eye that made you fall to the ground in pain and now it’s nothing? You are physically cold as ice and you’re just being a pain and mean and childish and –”

“Childish. Childish?” He looked to the side as if he had a bright idea and moved away, back into the living room. “I thought you wanted that.”

“God, Tim, what are you blathering on abo—”

She cut herself off as he stood next to the windowsill with the flowers. It had been a couple of weeks since they had brought them home, and they were doing well, even with the general lack of sunlight. Tim stared at them like they were weeds, with nothing notable or pleasant about them, then he smiled maniacally.

With a carelessness comparable to a toddler throwing a tantrum, Tim pulled his red roses off the windowsill, the pot crashing and soil flying everywhere. Stephanie couldn’t help it, she screamed, stuck in place by the kitchen.

“Tim, no! No! Why would you… No don’t! Please don’t!”

His hand was hovering over her lilac flowers. His awful smile froze, then fell away, leaving an equally awful emptiness. His hand trembled, and his fingers instead stroked the petals. Stephanie twitched, half ready to body slam him if he threw her plant on the ground.

His hand fell away, and Stephanie – shamefully – began to cry. He had left her roses alone but wrecked his own.

“Why would you do that?”

He looked at her like she was stupid for not getting the joke. “They’re so ugly. And I thought it would be funny. Your face.”

“Funny?” She sniffed, eyesight blurry and nose running. She couldn’t bear how bored he sounded, how mean he was being.

“When you get all angry and hot.”

“Tim! You don’t do that to someone you care about!”

“Care about you? Do I?” He blinked, uncomprehending. He had gotten distracted again and was looking out the window at the snow.

She shrieked, feeling like she was talking to a brick wall or an uncaring five-year-old. She rushed over to his wrecked plant, trying to pack the soil together as best she could. Tim watched her for a moment, then kicked the spilt soil and plant. Stephanie flinched away, staring at the scattered dirt. Intentionally or not, he’d hit her hands that were trying to salvage the situation. It was such an unnecessarily spiteful and painful thing to do, that finally she’d had enough. Stephanie got up, and shoved Tim.

“Stop it.”

He didn’t look satisfied with her reaction anymore, and asked, “Do you want me to leave?”

“I want you to stop being so fucking cruel.”

It was like her words were literally going in one ear and out the other. It was like he wasn’t even talking to her, rather he was talking at her. Or he was talking to someone (something) else. “I’ll go then. I’ll go. I’m bored.”

She watched, mystified, as he put his shoes back on. He looked at her once and tilted his head like a confused dog, then moved back towards her. Still crying, she choked out,

“What are you –”

He kissed her, once, desperately. She flinched away, feeling violated for the first time in years. It seemed he was not happy with the kiss either. He looked off to the side, sucking on his tongue, musing the flavour. He shook his head once.

“No good.”

Stephanie stared, heartbroken. Tim just shrugged, like the entire thing was nothing more than a mild conversation about the weather. Grabbing her car keys. He opened the front door, giving a half-hearted farewell. And then he was gone. No coat, no gloves, no scarf. The snow flurries had picked up once more, as had the wind. He was going to very quickly freeze out in the open dressed like that. Even if he did have the car, getting stranded was a real possibility in the storm.

Hating him, but also petrified, Stephanie resolved to drag him back inside. She’d make him sit down, shove the stew she’d made down his stupid throat, then call Batman. She didn’t care what he and Robin were doing at the South Pole, something had gone very wrong back home.

Stephanie grabbed the apartment keys and grabbed her own shoes, running after him. The lights flickered, a power surge apparently occurring due to the storm, and she tripped over their pile of shoes at the front door and she tugged it open.

“You dick!” She screeched to the howling wind. No sign of Tim though, or her car. She jolted, confused at how he could have pulled out of sight that quickly. Already the tire tracks were covered in a fresh layer of snow. Her confusion quickly returned to anger.

Fuck him, she thought spitefully, slamming the door shut and going back inside. Getting back down to see what of his roses had survived his abuse. She cleared space in her own box, hoping that they would take in their temporary home.

She then went to call him, for once being the first to crack after an argument of theirs, only to realise before she clicked his face that his phone was still in his jacket that was hung on the rack.

He really had left the house with nothing on him but the clothes on his back.

She didn’t know what to do. She’d been an idiot during their time at the Manor and had left behind her suit, leaving her stuck inside with nothing warm or secure enough to go hunting for her purple car. As several hours passed, the more her anger made way for pure grief.

That wasn’t Tim. Never in a million years would he be that cruel. Angry yes, spiteful sometimes, but not callous. And he did care about her. She knew that for a fact. More than she believed almost anything else. Even when their relationship was at its worst, he had said, word for word, that he still loved her.

He wouldn’t make fun of her until she cried, he wouldn’t hit and kick her, he wouldn’t wreck a present that he knew was important to her, he wouldn’t be such a self-absorbed brat.

The wind screamed outside, and Stephanie blinked.

Freak storm. Tim’s adverse reaction. The pain in his eye and drastic mood swing.

The whole thing stank of something unnatural.

It was next to nothing to go off, but she had to try and see where that line of thought would lead. First things first though, she needed Tim to come home.

But he didn’t.

Panicking wouldn’t do any good. Tim could look after himself. Even in a storm like last night. Her little car was given to her by Bruce. It was as sturdy as a tank. He would be fine.

But still. Stephanie panicked and did not sleep that night. Instead she sat in the living room, drinking mug of tea after mug of tea, watching her roses and the snow blowing outside through the window. Occasionally she’d burst into tears, not sure what to do or what to say. She could brave the storm, maybe? But Tim didn’t have a key. What if he came home and couldn’t get in? What if he found a phone and called her, would she go to him then? What if, what if, what if?

Stephanie wondered briefly who people coped not knowing where their loved ones were before mobiles became extensions of their arms.

Maybe he’d just left Gotham, gone out of the city and away from the storm. It was minus twenty that night, again unbearably cold. Stephanie sat still, grief stricken, and waited for Tim to come home.

He never did.

Come the morning, she started her hunt, looking at the CCTV footage of Park Row and the neighbouring streets and businesses, but found nothing. The footage blinked, showing Tim exiting the apartment, then he and the car was gone, and it was Stephanie poking her head out to yell.

It was like he had shut the front door behind him and vanished. Or it would have been, if not for the fact that that blip of a power surge had happened at an awfully convenient time.

She messaged Cass and Duke, who confirmed that he did not return to the manor. A quiet enquiry to the Titans showed he had not made his way West either. The storm over Gotham that night was almost as bad as the first. He would have died if he did not find shelter.

The stink of the unnatural grew.

Her grief turned to panic, and two more awful days passed. The three of them took to frantic searching across the city, but a fresh layer snow made tracking her car difficult. Even worse, the GPS system installed by Bruce on her car (a safety precaution to now where she was at any given moment) wasn’t working. It hadn’t since Stephanie and Tim had arrived at the apartment.

Duke checked the different homes the Drake’s had owned just in case he had holed himself up there. The townhouse, the mansion in Bristol, but nothing. Cassandra and Stephanie had checked every safe house in Gotham, but no luck.

Duke wanted to inform Batman. Whatever lead Bruce was chasing, this was doubly important. One of his children had gone missing. Cassandra disputed Duke. Bruce had an entire city to worry about, adding Tim’s disappearance would not make him more urgent. If anything, it would make him sloppier. Nothing made Bruce more irrational than his family in danger. Let him tackle the issue with a clear head. The three of them in Gotham could find Tim.

But three days later, they hadn’t.

So Cassandra conceded, and the awful call to Bruce was made. Stephanie did not speak to him, but judging by Cass’ face after the conversation ended, it had not gone well. She relayed the information that his own search had been a dead end and would be home before the evening came round.

This served to make an anxious bubbling a permanent fixture in Stephanie’s gut. Surely if Bruce was coming home, the problem would be resolved?

A problem she had allowed to happen. Letting Tim just waltz out into a blizzard great job Steph.

No-one blamed Stephanie, though she certainly blamed herself. Tim’s roses were not taking to their shared space with Stephanie’s, and it felt like a miserable metaphor of how their relationship was seemingly incompatible.

What the actual hell had happened?

Staring at the roses, and hating herself a little, she decided to go speak to one of the few people in Gotham who maybe would have a clue about what was happening to the natural world.

Poison Ivy had a connection to the Green, whatever that was. It was a shot in the dark, but maybe Pamela would have heard something through the literal grapevine about what was causing the horrendous weather. From there, maybe Stephanie could chase a lead to Tim, and bring him home.

Alive. Preferably.

#dc #tim drake #stephanie brown #timsteph #my fic tag

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365days365movies · 3 years

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March 18, 2021: The Purple Rose of Cairo (1985) (Part One)

Look, it’s Woody Allen again! Why is this elephant here?

Ah, right. The documentary on HBO, which I have not watched since I last talked about Woody Allen? Why? Well, from what I’ve heard, it’s not the most accurate documentary, and has a bit of bias loaded into it. And again, I don’t know nearly enough about the whole situation, but...I’m also not interested in potentially biased accounts. So, I’ll take the time to educate myself.

Shame that I rarely have any time, then.

Yeah, I just made one of the oldest jokes on the internet ever. Sue me. SUE ME I DARE YOU

You may be asking, then, why am I doing the whole movie thing? Well, in truth, this is a form of escapism for me. I mean, who doesn’t like sitting down and watching a good movie, putting away your worldly cares for about 2 hours so that you can dive into another world entirely? I mean, the worlds that’ve been built by film over the last century never ceases to amaze me.

From Avatar’s Pandora to Mustafar in Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, to the Great Barrier Reef in Finding Nemo, or the world of Monsters, Inc. There are so many unique worlds, not to mention the characters who inhabit them, and the directors and filmmakers who craft and show them. I just love movies, honestly. Which I could literally be in the world of some of them, even for just 2 hours.

But enough of that, what’s this film about? Eh, whatever, LET’S JUST GET INTO IT! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

We’re brought in on “Cheek to Cheek”, as sung by Fred Astaire, which is, not gonna lie, a guilty pleasure song of mine that I find myself singing in quiet moments. This leads us to a movie poster for the film, The Purple Rose of Cairo, which is being admired by Cecilia (Mia...Farrow). Ohhhhh.

You may remember Mrs. Farrow from her eponymous voice role in The Last Unicorn, which was made a few years before this film. And she’s also known for Rosemary’s Baby, The Great Gatsby, and...her marriage to Woody Allen, which ended in divorce and a massive lawsuit. Said lawsuit involved Farrow’s accusation of sexual abuse to their adopted daughter, Dylan. And that’s what the HBO documentary is about!

WOW. AWKWARD. Apparently, the two got married in 1980, and made thirteen films together, this one included. Which seems both awkward, and like straight-up nepotism, but whatever. Tim Burton did the same thing with Helena Bonham Carter, so whatever; it’s not unprecedented, is what I’m saying. Back to the movie, though.

Cecilia is a waitress, along with her sister (played by Stephanie Farrow, Mia’s actual sister). She’s new at the job, and not great at it. But, her and her sister still have nice conversations about films, as Cecilia’s quite the cinephile. After work, Cecilia meets her husband Monk (Danny Aiello), an abusive gambler who’s unemployed and not doing much about it. It’s the middle of the Great Depression, and things are hard all over. Monk seems to handle this by playing dice, and not particularly well.

Cecilia unsuccessfully tries to get Monk to see the newest movie with her, so she goes to see it alone that night. The film itself is a comedy about a rich Manhattanite named Henry (Edward Herrmann), alongside his wife Rita (Deborah Rush) and friend Jason (John Wood). They take a trip to Cairo, where they meet a young archaeologist named Tom Baxter (Jeff Daniels), who’s there to seek the mythical Purple Rose of Cairo. They invite him back to New York with them, and he accepts. There, he falls in love with Kitty Haynes (Karen Ackers), a singer at the Copacabana.

Cecilia is head over heels in love with the movie itself, and dreams about it at work, before going to see it again with her sister. They go to an early showing, and when she comes home, Monk’s drunk and spending time with a woman named Olga. Understandably enraged by this, Cecilia packs up her belongings to move out. Monk tries to get her to stay, the abusive cheating douchebag that he is. She notes that he hits her, and he defends his actions. Monk’s a real piece of shit. And she leaves, despite his absolute shit. God, I hope she stays away.

Unfortunately, she’s essentially forced to come back to the apartment that night, and returns to work as well. But not for long, as she’s basically immediately fired. Now jobless and stuck in an extremely shitty marriage, she has nowhere to go...except for the movies. And she goes back over...and over...and over again, five times in a row that day.

But the seventh time she sees the movie...something happens. Something fascinatingly unusual. The film, specifically Tom Baxter himself, watches her back.

Holy shit, that’s awesome! Tom Baxter notices Cecilia in the audience, and before his “madcap Manhattan weekend” is set to begin, Tom notes that she must really love this movie, and also that he’s noticed her all 6 previous times she’s seen the film. And then...he leaves. He leaves the movie!

He turns to color, and he jumps out of the screen to sweep Cecilia off of her feet. And EVERYBODY sees this, including the people IN the movie and in the theatre. I also love the fact that as soon as he turns to color, a woman faints, which is super fucking funny to me for some reason. Tom runs off with Cecilia, free after 2,000 monotonous performances.

Now that Tom’s met Cecilia, he’s never going back. The audience and the film stars are in complete disarray, and without Tom present, the movie can’t go forward, and the film characters descend into arguments about whose movie this actually is. It’s uh...it’s fucking hilarious, actually.

The enthusiastic Tom Baxter goes with Cecilia to a closed amusement park, where Cecilia once again expresses confusion at the whole affair. He notes that she’s been looking at her with every one of his performances, although she doesn’t understand why. But he calls her fetching, and is clearly quite smitten with her. And she appears to be returning that affection.

When Tom tells her that Cecilia is in love with him, she notes that she’s married. Still, he asks her to meet him that night at the amusement park. After all, how many times does a movie character leave a movie to meet somebody? Not an everyday occurrence.

Meanwhile, the film characters continue to be freaking the fuck out. The Countess (Zoe Caldwell) and Larry Wilde (Van Johnson) show up as well. The audience appears to be enjoying this less than I am, and they start to backtalk the movie, calling it boring. The movie backtalks the audience right back, and it continues to be hilarious.

Eventually, this becomes an attraction in and of itself. They suggest turning the movie off, but that risks stranding Tom Baxter outside. It also means that the film characters wouldn’t exist, which Henry is EXTREMELY upset about. As the news arrives to cover the small theatre’s anomaly, the people in the film itself start to play pinochle, as a few people linger around to watch and interact with the characters. The theatre manager (Irving Metzman) calls the production company, RKO, and they get on the phone with a Gil Shepherd.

Meanwhile, Cecilia manages to get out of the house, despite Monk trying to keep her there to massage his back, the absolute douchebag. She goes and meets Tom, and they go dancing together. This is just as the actor who plays Tom, Gil Shepherd (Jeff Daniels) is called by RKO while he’s at a party. Gil seems like kind of a typical Hollywood jerk, but he’s interrupted by an agent, who tells him that they need to get control of...well, whatever the hell this is.

Apparently, RKO is telling Gil that if he can’t get “his creation” under control, then he’ll essentially be blacklisted, especially considering that there’s no telling what Tom’s doing out there. And what Tom is doing is attempting to pay for a meal with Cecilia, only to find that his money isn’t real money. The two dine-and-dash, and they escape in a car back to the amusement park.

There, the two kiss, with Tom expecting the screen to fade out in preparation for them to make love. He’s surprised when it doesn’t happen, and it’s neat to see his adjustment to the world outside of films. He wants to continue with the lovemaking, but she’s still faithful to her husband. He stays at the park, and she returns home, where she still hasn’t told Monk about her new unemployment status.

The next morning, Gil and co. arrive at the small New Jersey town, and Gil ends up running into Cecilia, who confuses him for Tom. Gil realizes exactly what’s going on, and reveals who he is to her. The two start to talk, and Cecilia just fangirls EVERWHERE. She agrees to take him to meet his character.

Great place to pause, I think! See you in Part Two!

#the purple rose of cairo #woody allen #mia farrow #jeff daniels #danny aiello #edward hermann #john wood #deborah rush #zoe caldwell #fantasy march #user365 #365days365movies #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #userstream #filmedit

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multimetaverse · 4 years

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HSMTMTS 1x05 Review

Homecoming was a historic ep that was a giant leap forwards for rep on Disney and an overall delightful ep. Let’s dig in!

I was blown away by Seblos this ep, I never expected Disney to go this far this soon but what great scenes we got. It was so refreshing to see Carlos and Seb acting like normal teens, just like any straight couple. They have good chemistry and Frankie played Carlos’ nerves when asking Seb to the dance perfectly and his celebration after Seb said yes. I liked when Seb mentioned that homecoming would mean dancing together in front of all the non theatre kids, a little reminder of how much of a safe space the theatre can be. Really powerful to see Carlos tell Mr. Mazzara that he thought he made a mistake asking him to dance with him publicly and to see Carlos be brave enough to go dance on his own. And then when Seb arrived we got the shot we see in every teen movie where the love interest arrives at the big dance and sees the main character and smiles, it’s amazing that we saw that with two guys on a Disney show. Also impressive that Seb apologizing to Carlos was done in just one take as Tim revealed on instagram

Tim Federle has done an amazing job so far and good for him for going right into text. He’s said in interviews that no one from Disney ever asked him to cut any scenes or shy away from certain topics, which doesn’t mean much since he’d be saying that regardless of how much he was being censored, but we can see with our own eyes that he really is telling the truth. Now I do want more development for Carlos and Seb as characters as well as Seblos as a ship and I do think we’ll get that especially since Joe Serafini has been promoted to a series regular for S2, which is a very good sign that Disney is all in with Tim Federle’s plans. What an exciting time, there will soon be two main gay characters on a Disney show played by openly gay actors on a show created by an openly gay man. Tim has spoken of how Disney + is in some ways an open frontier and that he’s willing to take big jumps and I can’t wait to see what the rest of S1 and S2 has in store for us

Things have changed a lot since the High School Musical movies came out. It’s well known that Ryan was meant to be gay even though he could never actually be gay. Lucas Grabeel has spoken of how Kenny Ortega told him that Ryan was a lot like his High School self. In an interview with EW, Tim Federle was asked about the censorship of Ryan’s character and he noted that he wasn’t there for the movies and doesn’t view what he’s now doing on HSMTMTS as making up for anything that the original movies weren’t able to do. Which is fair but regardless in some ways tonight's ep does make up for the censorship of the movies

While reading an article on HSMTMTS I came upon a link to a story from October 2008 about Ryan and how he was clearly being coded as gay that featured some revealing quotes from Gary Marsh, from an interview conducted in summer 2008:

Regarding the fact that there are boyfriend-girlfriend relationships in the HSM movies, Marsh interjected, “Yeah, but that’s not about sex,” as though having two boyfriends equals full-tilt boogie. And as to why there can be boyfriend and girlfriends but not two boyfriends, he could only note, “It’s just not something that we’ve ever had the opportunity to portray. It hasn’t been a place we’ve gone.”

If someone, like Gary Marsh, believes that lgbtq relationships are inherently sexual then that means they don’t believe they’re appropriate for children. It’s no surprise then that it wouldn’t be until 2014 that Disney Channel had two lesbian moms appear on Good Luck Charlie and it wouldn’t be until 2017 that Cyrus came out to Buffy. Clearly Gary has for whatever reasons evolved in his views or there wouldn’t have been any rep on Disney Channel in the past 11 years nor do I think that he would make a comment like that publicly today but he probably does still believe that to an extent and I’d imagine other senior Disney executives do as well

A few things are helping Disney + push boundaries, being more of a PG than a G rated service, not being exclusively targeted towards children, and being a curated service so parents can easily avoid showing their kids shows with lgbtq rep. And perhaps most importantly, the cold hard reality that if Disney + is to become financially viable then it has to appeal to a broad audience and provide the same quality or better than people could find on Netflix or other streaming services so the kind of censorship we see on Disney Channel just can’t fly

There’s been a lot of discourse regarding Seblos and Tyrus and HSMTMTS and Andi Mack and I’ll take the time to say my piece now. It’s not entirely fair to compare the ships and shows since they’re taking place under very different circumstances. Tyrus was a heavily censored ship that was only given permission to canon when the series finale was written whereas Seblos is already canon in the 5th ep. It’s true that TJ was written in a way to subvert gay stereotypes which was important but it’s also true that for most of the audience they didn’t know that he was gay until the bench scene itself so there wasn’t that much trope subversion going on. And who knows how he would have been written if they were actually allowed to have him be openly gay before the series finale

Carlos and Seb may fall into some stereotypes but Tim Federle has spoken of how when he was in High School he would have loved to play a character like Sharpay but wouldn’t have had the confidence to do so and he wrote Seb wanting to play a female role with his own past experiences in mind. He’s also spoken about how Carlos was based off of a close friend of his and he put some of himself into Carlos as well with Carlos telling Mr. Mazzara that he was meant to be on Broadway being something Tim told one of his own teachers in High School. Frankie and Joe have talked about how they see a lot of their own experiences in Carlos and Seb as characters and in Seblos as a relationship. Tim has spoken a lot about how important authenticity is to him and while Carlos and Seb may be stereotypical to some people it shouldn’t be discounted that others can see their lived experiences in those characters

For Andi Mack it’s important to separate Cyrus’ story from the Tyrus story line. It’s unlikely HSMTMTS could have pulled off Cyrus’ coming out story line, the shows are just too different. We’re almost certainly not going to see a One in a Minyan style ep on HSMTMTS but would we have seen such an ep on Andi Mack if they didn’t need to pack all of Cyrus’ S3 story line into one ep? We also can’t forget that 3x11 was written shortly after the cancellation and it was written as a potential end to the gay story line since they didn’t know until months later if they could go with canon Tyrus or not. Even with the limits it faced Andi Mack did a great job with Cyrus’ coming out story line and I think eps like 2x01 and 2x13 and 3x11 will be fondly remembered and will stand the test of time

When it comes to Tyrus though it’s fair to say that the bench scene was a historic and important moment but also an underwhelming one. Andi Mack didn’t live up to the promise that Cyrus was no different but it was never going to be able to with Disney’s restrictions, they were willing to focus on Cyrus as a gay character but not Cyrus as an actively gay character. One thing that will make Seblos go down a lot better than Tyrus is that we aren’t going to see Carlos bearding himself like Cyrus did. It won’t age well at all that Cyrus got to go on dates with Iris and kiss her twice and refer to her as a his girlfriend and even come up with a mashup name for them but Terri probably would have done things very differently if she had known that all Cyrus would be able to do with a boy was hold hands in the series finale. We can also tell that HSMTMTS won’t be facing an increase in censorship later on since Seb will be a main in S2 whereas Disney cracked down hard after S2 for Andi Mack, probably because the story was shifting from Cyrus having a hopeless crush on a straight guy to a reciprocated crush on a gay guy

Since Seblos is textual from the start it will be much easier to write and also much easier to fix things when the writers inevitably make mistakes. I think a lot of the defensiveness coming from certain corners of the Andi Mack fandom is because deep down people know that the bench scene wasn’t enough pay off for the long dragged out Tyrus no burn we got; especially with all of the drama and angst they had. Development is important but it doesn’t take two thirds of the series to set up a silent handhold. I think it’s very unlikely that for HSMTMTS we’ll see the drastic decline in quality that Andi Mack had for most story lines after 3x11. The bench scene would have been better if we hadn’t gotten the worst writing of the series for TJ and Cyrus as characters that did a real disservice to them and to Tyrus as a ship in the eps before the finale. The Tyrus story line was never going to get a great ending with Disney’s restrictions but it is also true that Terri’s choices made things a lot worse than they had to be

It’s insane that they introduced Kira as a homophobic character who was manipulating TJ but also was clearly into him; how do professional writers come up with that? It’s just not a mistake Tim Federle is going to make. Trying to do an external homophobia story line was an obviously bad idea but so was giving TJ an out of nowhere internalized homophobia plot in 3x13 and 3x15 before dropping it in 3x18. Cyrus’ coming out story line helped a lot of people because it showed the correct way for friends to react when someone comes out to you but for TJ they never did anything to help people dealing with internalized or external homophobia, the message was effectively ‘’deal with it on your own kids’’, which is sharp contrast with how openly his dyscalculia plot was handled. I don’t think HSMTMTS would be effectively able to deal with homophobia either but I think Tim probably realizes that and won’t attempt it

There were a lot of little things Terri could have changed that would have helped. Don’t insert Kira into their plot. Don’t have Amber kiss Jonah or say she’s love him so at least she could have pointed to another character who never got to kiss a guy or talk about feelings. Put the Jandi bracelet scene in between the Muffy and Tyrus confession scenes so we don’t go straight from a Muffy kiss and handhold and verbal confession to the bench scene. And just write the bench scene better so it’s more in line with the Tyrus dynamic like how the Muffy and Jandi scenes did a good job capturing their own dynamics. Of course, we’re not going to see Seblos end so subtly so all these problems just won’t arise

Tyrus was important because it happened and may well be the only lgbtq rep we see for middle school characters played by actual teenagers for a very long time. But it’s also true that Andi Mack’s legacy will probably rest a lot more with Cyrus specifically, especially him saying the word gay, whereas HSMTMTS will be remembered more for normalizing lgbtq relationships with Seblos. I’m glad Tyrus happened but I’m also glad that Seblos will be a much smoother story line and will break boundaries for years to come. Anyways that’s my two cents

I really liked the Gina development this ep. Her doesn’t do cash line was interesting, hinting at financial problems? Moving 5 schools in 7 years is rough and I’d like to hear more about that. I’m glad that we got confirmation that she didn’t have an actual plan and was just winging it because her actions really did not make much sense. Tim Federle had said that love triangles will become love squares and it does make more sense to have Gina be into Ricky than EJ since there’s no real drama if she’s into EJ because Nini is totally over him. I do think Gina was being sincere in the scene with Ricky in the car (which Tim said was Big Red’s car that he lent Ricky and that Joshua and Sofia did that scene in just two takes). I also think that she needs Ricky as a friend not a lover and Ricky would not be happy if he ever found out that she was the one who initially stole Nini’s phone

Miss Jenn and Mike Bowen and Benjamin Mazzara love triangle? We do know that Miss Jenn and Mr. Mazzara spend Thanksgiving trapped together which is obvious set up for feelings to develop. We also got Mr. Mazzara doing a 180 and being nice to Carlos this ep which seems like a ploy to get him on the audiences good side

Loved the friendship moments we got this ep. Big Red and Kourtney are great friends. Ricky taking Big Red to his first dance was sweet and I love that Big Red showed up in a old man suit jacket that looks like it was from the 70s. Ngl I thought Ricky was wearing pajama pants for most of the ep. Glad we got a glimpse into Kourtney and Nini’s past, they’ve been friends at least since the 7th grade. I hope Kourtney stands up to the mean costume designer senior

I liked seeing Nini grappling with her self confidence after finding out that she got the lead role at summer camp because EJ poisoned the original lead. She does have the talent but that kind of revelation would leave most people shook

Glad that Ricky and his dad had a honest convo this ep. It’s just the two of them now so they need to stick by each other

Ashlyn has been an unexpected delight so far, I liked that she was the only one to go and support Carlos and she was rocking that suit

Ricky’s office stare after Gina dumped punch on EJ’s head was too funny

Born to be brave was a great song and the choreography blew me away, such a talented cast and crew they have

All of the costumes looked great this ep, kudos to the costume designers

RIP Seb’s cow

Looking Ahead:

Miss Jenn faces her tribunal, I’m curious to see how much she faked on her resume

We get photos of Seb comforting Carlos which I think comes after he finds out that Miss Jenn is suspended. In the medley trailer there was a clip of Carlos hugging Miss Jenn at a coffee shop so maybe that’s next ep since there’s no need to meet at a coffee shop if she’s not suspended

The cast has talked about how we the audience we’ll be going back and forth on team Ricky vs team EJ all season long which at this point seems like a lie. I’m sure EJ’s redemption arc starts soon and if he’s still going to panic attacks I’d imagine that will soon be brought up but Nini is totally over him and I can’t see her being torn about her feelings for EJ in the final 5 eps of the season

With Seb being a main in S2 that will make things more difficult for the writers to juggle and I hope they are thinking about how to balance the different characters. I also wonder what the long term plan for EJ is since he’s the only senior and if S2 takes place spring semester of his senior year then what are they gonna do with him in S3?

We know that in 1x10 breaking free has EJ, Nini, and Ricky so I wonder if EJ starts off playing Troy for whatever reason before Ricky shows up. Since Ricky thinks Nini is over him I don’t think we’ll be seeing him make a move unless he gets some kind of signal from Nini

Wonder what was up with that Sharpay’s mom credit on imdb, just some random imdb troll? If so, what a coincidence that she picked what happened to be a big Seb ep

I don’t know if this will have impact on the show going forward but this marks the point that Tim Federle took over as showrunner after original showrunner Oliver Goldsmith departed. Oliver wanted to take the show in a more mature direction but Tim disagreed and Disney sided with him over Oliver

Until next week Wildcats

#HSMTMTS #Seblos #Carlos #seb mathew-smith #Ricky Bowen #Gina Porter #Nini Salazar-Roberts #Kourtney #Big Red #Ashlyn #EJ Caswell #Mike Bowen #Miss Jenn #Benjamin Mazzara #HSMTMTS Reviews

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