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paintball169 · 3 years

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Day 3 - Identities

Day1 - Day2 - Day3 - Day4

Marinette had been living with the waynes for over a month now. The reason? Tom and Sabine sent her away to her biological father. Apparently To Dupain was not her biological, but Bruce Wayne was.

Marinette had a sliver of hope, A really, really thin one. Which had faltered by the month.

Marinette had defeated Hawk Moth with Chat Noir. Apparently Plagg found the brooches along with two sleeping kwamis accidentally. At night when Gabriel and Natalie were asleep, He had stolen the miraculous. On the patrol that night, Chat had told her that the miraculous were right under their noses. He gave her the two brooches and told her that Plagg had found the brooches in his father’s study. He told her that Gabriel was Hawk moth and Natalie was Mayura. Then he de-transformed and handed her the ring saying that he wanted to continue his life as a civilian.

Later that week it was announced that Chat noir found out who Hawk Moth was and he had stolen the miraculous at night. He then said that Gabriel and Natalie were the Villians. He then revealed himself saying that he was innocent, and he had no idea that his father was Hawk moth. Marinette had thought that with Hawkmoth gone she could beat Lila, But no, it Backfired. That was the reason she was Shipped off. Like an object. She was replaced just like an object.

Her only wish was to die. But she had tried to do that multiple times. Someone always managed to save her. So no, that option was unavailable. She had thought that she would finally be able to die in Gotham by sucide, But no, Selina, Cassandra or Jason always managed to save her.

By now she had started to see the woman as a mother figure. The Waynes hated her. They didn’t even listen to her side of the story. Only Cass and Jason had seen that there was more to the story. Selina and Alfred too, of course. The waynes saw her with disgust. They laid out certain rules.

And of course she figured out they were Bat family. She may not be from Gotham, but she wasn’t certainly stupid. She had to admit, The Waynes were really good at hiding the Batfam thingy. But what gave them away? Misplaced Batarangs by Tim. Then Tikki had also found the cave. She wasn’t stupid, Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne were good friends and certainly Batman and Superman. The people of Justice league stopped by often at the Manor too.

Speaking of the Justice League, They had given her an offer to join the League, but she declined. They had given her a satellite phone for emergencies to contact the league. They had praised her high and low. Batman was even Concerned for her when he found out her age range. Concerned! If they knew that Ladybug was their new sibling who was claimed to be a bully, she’d be declared a threat and her take Miraculous away.

Her routine was the same. Wake up. Eat breakfast in silence as she was being glared at. Study something. Do commissions while talking to her boyfriend, Luka and the others. Eat Lunch while being glared at. Study the Grimoire with Alfred. Sketch some designs while talking to Selina and Cass. Draw illustrations while Jason talks. Eat dinner in Silence. Stay up till 3 am doing commissions. Sleep.

Last week she had introduced Luka to Cass, Selina, Jason and Alfred. It went really well. Especially when Jason found out he was Jagged Stone’s son.

She was thinking how she could step up her game with the Waynes. In her thoughts she didn’t see Selina coming in.

“What are you thinking about Kitten ?” Selina asks, seeing the half sketched dress.

“Gah! Selina don’t scare me like that! Anyway I was thinking, ``What do I do to annoy the waynes?” Marinette asks the Master of scheming Cat-woman.

“Hmm, what about going to your true self? Being in headphones, ignoring them, Snide answers, and stuff like that?” Selina says thoughtfully.

“Selina, that's brilliant! You’re the best Mom!” Marinette says. She covers her mouth with her hand realizing what she said.

“Aww, Com’ere Kit. I love you.” Selina says softly.

“You’re not mad?” Marinette hesitantly asks.

“Of course not!” She says.

“You’ll be more of a mother than Sabine will ever be to me.” Marinette says with a small voice and hugs the older woman.

Then the Chaos was unleashed. Whenever the Waynes wanted to ask her something she’d ignore them and she always had her headphones on.

- - - - - - - -

“Marinette, tell me why did you hurt the poor girl?” Bruce asks in a stern voice. Of course Mari didn’t hear him because of the blaring music.

“Marinette, Why did you hurt the poor girl?” Bruce asks again, obviously annoyed.

“MARINETTE-” He was cut off from Alfred of course.

“If I may Master Bruce,” he says, earning a nod. He gently taps the girl’s shoulder. Marinette moves her hair away and removes her Airpod. The music is loud enough for everybody to hear.Meanwhile Bruce flushes in embarrassment. “Miss, Your father wants to ask you something.” Marinette nods. She turns to her Father.

“What?” She asks.

“I asked, Why did you hurt the poor girl marinette, around two months ago?” He asks, patience bearing thin.

“Oh? I didn’t know that I could make a clone of myself and Send one to the fencing class and the other to beat her up at the Seine?” She says in a bored tone. Jason and Cass, not being able to hold their laughter any longer, burst out laughing.

Later that night they checked her attendance, sure enough she was in the fencing class.

- - - - - -

One day Marinette got a call from the Justice league, Stating an emergency. She quickly transformed to Ladybug and Portalled to the Watchtower.

“Ladybug, welcome to the Watchtower,” Wonder Woman welcomed, standing at the head of a group of heroes. Interestingly enough, Batman and all of his brood were among them. Nightwing, Red Robin, Black Bat, and Robin and the others.

“Wonder Woman,” she greeted back. “What’s the problem?”

“Your former partner has been kidnapped.”

Ladybug’s face turned pale, but she took a deep breath instead of panicking. “What do we know?”

“Ra’s al Ghul has taken the former Chat Noir in an attempt to convince the Guardian of the Miraculous to turn over the jewels to him,” Batman reported.

Her face turned up into a snarl. “The League of Assassins,” she spat.

They were surprised that she knew Ra’s. But they hid it well.

“I take it you understand why we cannot allow the Miraculous to be surrendered to his control,” Batman continued.

Wonder Woman stepped in before Ladybug could reply. “Ladybug, we need you to tell us who the Guardian is so that we may protect them.”

Ladybug let out a cold laugh. Shivers ran down everyone’s spine. “Wonder Woman, you misunderstand. The Order of the Miraculous is all but dead. I’m all that’s left. You want the Grand Guardian of the Miraculous?” She spread her arms wide. “You’re looking at her. And Ra’s al Ghul can have them over my dead body. ”

The gathered heroes looked stunned. “Now where is Adrien?”

Red robin started, recovering first. “You’re not going alone.”

“You’re right,” Ladybug cut in. “I’m not. I’m gathering my team.”

“What Red Robin meant to say is that Batman and his assembled partners are going with you,” Wonder Woman soothed. “They have experience dealing with Ra’s and would be a great asset.”

“I’ll be back in ten minutes, at the most.” She said. Everyone nodded. She portalled away to gather her team.

Five minutes later a portal opened and stepped out Honey bee, Dragoness and Cobra in the Glory. The portal snapped shut when Ladybug entered.

“This is not enough! We’re dealing with Ra’s al Ghul and the league here!” Ladybug said. “We need her. She’s the last resort if we lose!” Dragoness exclaimed. The Justice league was confused. Who were they talking about?

“You’re right. Bee, you’re the only one who knows where she is. You’re her best friend. I can't find her in all of paris!” Ladybug asks, turning to Honey bee.

“You’re right, I do. It’ll be easy to find her. She’ll be in her room. She’s always Isolated, so don’t worry about getting caught.” Honey Bee answers.

“Isolation! I thought I told her to Socialize!” Ladybug exclaims.

“Yeah, but her family treats her like a pariah except some people. But Ladybug I don’t know if she’ll be able to fight.” Honey bee says.

“Rossi?”

“Rossi.”

“Now location please.” Ladybug says.

“Right. Wayne Manor, Gotham, New Jersey.” Honeybee whispers. Earning surprised looks from Ladybug and the Supers.

“Alright.” Ladybug portals away. This was all staged of course. She had recently found a spell to make a clone of herself.

“Why won't the hero be able to fight? She’s a hero!” Batman exclaims.

“Depression, you overgrown furry, Depression. She’s tried committing sucide several times. We saved her.” This earns many shocked looks.

Cue opening a portal. All of the Paris heroes Gasps. All in glory Multimouse is standing there.

When Honey Bee saw Multimouse, she gasped and enveloped her in a hug, muttering French endearments and saying how much she’d missed her. Dragoness stole Multimouse for a hug next before passing her on to Viperion who also received an extra peck on the lips in return, while Ladybug watched with a soft smile.

With Kaalki involved, it was child’s play to get into the assassin stronghold. Team Miraculous filled the gaps and worked seamlessly in their own right, simply a step away from Gotham’s Bats. They beat assassins on their own. The Bats just watched in awe.

It didn’t take them long to make their way to Ra’s.

The man wore a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he greeted him from his throne. A bruised and bloodied but otherwise intact Adrien was being restrained on the dias a few feet away.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Team Miraculous,” Ra’s mused, looking down the line. His eyes paused on Multimouse and his expression shifted to intense amusement. “And if it isn’t the latest in the Detective’s brood. I suppose heroics truly do run in the family after all.”

A number of shocked and confused gazes snapped to Multimouse, who simply stared at him down with cold eyes growling quietly.

“And yet she isn’t why we’re here,” Ladybug cut in coldly, shoving that problem in a box for later.

Ra’s shifted his oily attention to her. “Yes, I believe I requested the Guardian, young Bug.”

“And here I am,” Ladybug said simply. “But I will never cede the Miraculous to you.”

“Well, then I suppose the Blonde Cat dies.” The assassin near Adrien tried to kill him only to turn to orange smoke. Ra’s growls when he realizes he was tricked.

“Your reign is over. Your crimes won’t continue much longer. Tell me, just how long have you been using the Pits to keep yourself alive?”

“Goodbye, Ra’s al Ghul,” Ladybug intoned. “We’ll leave you to what remains of your empire.” She turned and motioned for the Fox to open the portal to the Watchtower. The Bats followed behind.

Adrien was at the fringes, attempting to escape a hero that was trying to get him to the Medbay for medical attention. He only had eyes for Multimouse.

“Marinette!” he called.

The Bats were shocked at both the name and the blatant outing of a secret identity.

Adrien broke free from his wounds. “Marinette, I’m so sorry,” he said brokenly.

It was quiet for a moment. “I take it they told you why I left, then,” Multimouse said, carefully devoid of emotion.

“I never thought-”

“Don’t, Adrien,” Queen Bee snapped.

Adrien gaped at his friend, shocked at the venom her words carried against him.

“But her Lies, they weren't hurting anyone!”

“How?” Multimouse snapped, her voice cracking. She took a deep breath. “How was it different? Because you told me I had to ‘take the high road?’ Because her lies would unravel themselves? Because she wasn’t hurting anyone? Bullshit, Adrien! They were hurting me!”

“She followed your advice at first,” Queen Bee said sharply. “She shouldn’t have, but you were her friend and she trusted you. By the time she realized that it had been a mistake, it was too late. Everyone else was in too deep and you did nothing . When Mari tried to tell everyone that they were being lied to, she was made to look like a liar. A bully.”

“Do you realize that the rest of us had people on watchlists?” Ryuko said bluntly. “People at risk of Akumatization that could bring the city to its knees. Aurore, because of Stormy Weather II. Ondine, because of Syren. But do you know who was on top?” She let the silence sit. “Marinette. Marinette was on top of that list. The only reason she was above Ladybug was because Marinette was drowning. But any time she tried to get through to the others, Lila hit back harder and you would ask Mari to back down. Because we don’t want to upset Lila, right? We don’t want her to become an akuma. Again.”

“My parents believed her, Adrien,” Multimouse said quietly. “They sent me away because I was ‘out of control’. I’m treated like a criminal where I am now! So I’m sorry, Adrien, but I can’t forgive you. You said you didn’t want to live with more lies, but then you stopped telling the truth when it threatened your ‘peace’. Even when that ‘peace’ might have ruined my life.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “But you know what they say, right? Never meet your heroes.” She turned and looked straight at Batman. “They’ll always just disappoint you.”

- - - - - - - -

The next week was tense at the Wayne manor. But eventually they apologised to marinette. She became close with them. She and her family then sent lawsuits to the Akuma class.

The saying is true then. “All’s well that ends well.”

@maribat-bdbwm

#mbdbwm2021 #Bio Dad Bruce Wayne #maribat #Bio!dadbrucewayne2021 #lilasalt #batmansalt

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raahosh · 3 years

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Type: Cassian x reader.

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses.

Summary: You had a mission, a mission assigned by your superiors and it was killing the Commander of the Night Court’s army. (Part 1)

Warning: A bit of hot, not smut but yeah you know what I mean and some angst maybe.

Authors note: I’m doing the requests but I finally got to finish this draft. When I’m not doing requests I make a lot of Cassian x reader because, what’s not a secret, he’s my favorite and this is one of the most here since the beginning of this account.

The moon was already up and brighter than ever as night fell, waiting for the Earth to rotate and return the sun, which would only take 6 hours. You had six hours to kill the Night Court's army's general and flee without being noticed. You just had a few days to deliver his head to the King, and the night had been scheduled since the beginning of the month. There's just one problem: you had no idea who this guy was.

Your boss had just told you that this man was in the House's last room, so there was a good chance of you killing the wrong guy. So, without further ado, you left, snatched up your best daggers, poisoned it and dashed to the Night Court.

You were almost invisible, able to enter and exit without anyone seeing or even noticing someone was there. Like a shadow, your steps were quiet. It whisked you away to the room you knew he were, and when you opened the door, you were greeted by a large figure lying backward on a colossal bed. Wings in front of him relaxed as if it were a blanket protecting someone.

You didn't pay attention to details when you first entered the room. First, you lifted your hands, you would use any necessary power in this moment. A wind barrier involved the room, so no one could hear anything outside. You wanted to get out as soon as possible without leaving any witness or time for someone to think.

Your hand lifted the poisoned dagger and the other prepared to use your shadows on your favor, but then you felt something. It started out as just a click, but then your brain couldn't get enough of the word "mate", and it was repeated over and over.

Mate. My mate. Mine. Mate.

Your throat was so constricted that you couldn't even breathe. It was your mate, your mate, that you were supposed to kill. That's when you noticed, you took a step closer and noticed something else, someone you hadn't noticed before because his wings were covering it.

The word "Mate" was almost torturous in your mind, and the girl next to the one who was supposed to be yours, as well as the dagger in your hands, didn't let you forget why you came. And it was then that you realized you had taken far too long to consider, act, or even quit. When someone came up behind you and knocked you down.

You awoke somewhere you didn't recognize, surrounded by four cold iron walls. You were trapped, trapped somewhere no one could hear your screams. Your arms are cuffed, one on either side of your body, and your legs are in the same place. It was unsettling because you wondered what would happen next.

When a large man entered the room, everything changed. His movements were slow and deliberate, bringing him closer to you. This is your mate, the guy you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with because he was your other half, but now... He now plans to murder you, torture you.

He was as cold as a stone, showing no signs of fear or rage. His steps brought him in front of you, where his gaze met yours and then the rest of your body, analyzing you from head to toe, your expressions or even movement being put to the test.

“What are you?” His sound was also devoid of any emotion.

“Someone you wouldn't want to kill if you knew who they were.” You spoke in a whisper hoping he wouldn't hear you. But he did hear something, maybe not what you said but some murmurs, so he took a step forward and stared you in the eyes as if to say, ‘What did you say?’ but you simply raised your head and returned the stare. “Y/N Y/L/N” A slight smile spread over your face, indicating that you were not afraid.

He drew his dagger from his belt, spun the top of it on his finger, and gripped it tightly. “All right, I'm going to ask you this once. Therefore, pay attention.” His voice were as icy as the air that consumed you both. “Who you work for and what were you doing in my room?”

You swallowed dryly before lifting your head once more. That's when you saw him hesitating, as if something inside him had shifted, maybe some sort of uncertainty or even discomfort. And that’s when you saw, you knew the bond clicked for him too. But it came so quickly; he became cold again the next second, his breath the only sign of mental instability. You would pay a lot just to know what went through his mind.

“So it clicked for you too...” A sarcastic chuckle escaped your mouth. “I’m as surprised as you are. You'd be dead right now if it weren't for this damn bond.” You didn't shift your gaze; in fact, you seemed far more menacing.

Then everything was a blur, someone entered the room, and you were tortured like you'd never been before. Your breathing was irregular; in fact, you couldn't breathe at all, but you didn't say anything. You wouldn't, because, if you did, at home, it would be much worse.

They were enraged that you didn't give any type of information, didn’t even say a word and the last thing you recall seeing was the shadowsinger's face, which was even colder than his friend's. You awoke in a bed where you had no idea where you were.

The room was unlike any other you'd ever seen, and you were here. So, you thought you should run, but when you tried to use your powers, it was gone, and when you tried to get up, you felt an excruciating pain invading your body. After that, someone entering.

‘Ok, so, Cassian, the last time I checked she was stable but... Oh, so glad you woke up.” The woman didn’t smile, not that she was actually glad. You rolled your eyes. “I’m going to let you alone.

So the guy you'd come to know as Cassian approached you and sat on a small bench next to your bed. He seemed to be less enraged or cold now, but... Worry? Was it concern that you detected in his expression?

“So, who actually are you?” He said sighing, like he has done so much this morning.

“Why do you want to know?” You raised your brow.

“God, can you be easier? You’re my mate, that is the only reason I didn’t let Rhys and Azriel kill you. So, you tell me who are you and why you wanted to kill me or I’m not going to be nice the next time.” He was still looking tired, but his speech was firmer this time.

“You, more than anyone, know that I can’t. I would never risk my family’s life’

He tried not to show emotion but the bond screamed something you didn’t understand.

“All right, I'm going to be more serious than I have ever been in my life, and you are going to listen to me. You will shake your head at the end telling me you understood.” His expression had changed significantly. He rested his hands on the edge of the bed and gave you a menacing stare that made you shiver and nod. “You are going to tell me who you work for or I am going to figure out myself and it will be worse. I don’t care if you are my mate, because this time I am not going to be good with you.”

She swallowed dry when her eyes finally met his, a little bit of scare on her glance but not too much to make her actually betray her country. Y/N trained her entire life to be at the position she’s at, being the spy and assassin master of her Court. Her head was harder than a stone, she trained it to be because she knew what a daemati is.

“Listen, we’re not going anywhere with it. I’m not going to tell you.” her tone was a bit lower than before, not with afraid but respect.

“You won’t make it easy, will you?” Cassian didn’t lower his head, the only sign of exhaustion was his concerned sigh. She believed that he trained as much as her, if not more, to hide his feelings and do his job with any interruption.

Y/N didn’t respond, instead she looked through the window in the other side of the room. In her Court things aren’t like that, there isn’t any color or happiness, even though they learned to be like that and even found ways to have fun. The small amount of time she spent there showed her how they really care for people and The Night Court wasn’t the horror people make it be.

“Ok, you’re not going anywhere anyway.” He stood up.

#cassian x reader #cassian acotar #cassian #acotar #acotar x reader #bat boys #illyrian

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five-rivers · 3 years

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Glowsticks

Sneaking in before midnight on Halloween~

This is another continuation of Exhumed.

McGee had talked to several people about the strangely popular gravestone. What he had learned made him feel sick. Literally. He wanted to throw up. First, the person buried there was the kid that had been found in the park. Second, the locals had made him into a cult figure practically overnight.

Or, at least, a tourist trap figure. These people had no shame.

On the other hand… Didn’t they say that Daily person was in charge of cults? Did Amity Park have a cult problem on top of everything else that was going on? Was the cult the problem, the root problem? If there even was an actual cult…

Cults were dangerous and took vicious advantage of legal loopholes. Maybe he should call the FBI. They were the ones that were supposed to deal with cults.

He took a deep breath, pulling himself together. No. This was his case. His job. He didn’t know that there was a cult involved, not yet. Besides, it didn’t matter if they were religious so long as they were breaking the law. Yeah.

“Are you okay?”

McGee almost jumped out of his skin, his hand twitching towards his firearm before he realized that the person who snuck up on him was a kid. The kid from earlier, to be precise.

The boy’s eyes narrowed. “Were you about to pull a gun on me?” he asked.

“No,” said McGee.

The boy blinked, suspicion still evident on his face. “You’ve got to be more careful with guns,” he said. “There’s no reason to go for one just because someone surprised you.”

McGee didn’t grace that with a response. “What are you doing here, anyway? Weren’t you across town, earlier?”

“Yeah. So were you,” said the boy. Danny. His name was Danny Fenton. “Why are you here?”

“I asked first.”

“You shouldn’t ask questions you aren’t willing to answer yourself.”

What the hell was up with this kid? “I’m just trying to get a better feel for the town.”

“Hm,” said Danny. “I help out here at the cemetery, sometimes. Got to lay all those ghosts to rest, you know?”

“Don’t you think that’s a little much?” snapped McGee. “Death isn’t supposed to be a roadside attraction.”

“Oh, don’t worry. We take death very seriously around here,” assured Danny. “But seriously. I do help out. The caretaker lets me take that stuff away when it gets to be too much.” He nodded at the blank headstone and all the offerings around it. “Mom likes the flowers. Jazz is making a collage of some of the cards. You know. Stuff like that.” He shrugged, angling himself away from McGee. “Someone left a tiny copy of the Tempest once. In one of those teeny tiny books. Post. It had that one passage from Ariel’s Song decorated. It was nice. I liked it.”

“What?”

“Ariel’s Song. Full fathom five thy father lies;/Of his bones are coral made;/Those are pearls that were his eyes;/Nothing of him that doth fade,/But doth suffer a sea-change/Into something rich and strange. Shakespeare. I think it’s supposed to be a commentary on ghosts, but the guy in the play isn’t actually dead, people just think he is. So, I’m not really sure how to take it. You’re a detective, right? What do you think?”

McGee stared at the teenager. The kid who was buried there was his age. “This isn’t a joke,” said McGee. “A person is dead.”

Danny tilted his head. “I’m not joking?”

“How are you even connected to all of this?” McGee waved his hand, frustrated.

“I just told you how I’m connected to the cemetery. If you mean the town… Well, I do live here.”

“Why do Patterson and Collins know you?”

“I know everyone,” said Danny. He started backing away. “You should go get something to eat soon, if you don’t want to be late.” He turned and disappeared in the crowd.

What the hell.

McGee did not go to get food. He went back to the station. He had some questions to ask Cameron Daily, and he got the impression that the man was the kind of person to practically live at work.

When he opened the door, though, he had to stop.

“What is this?” he asked, loudly.

“Glowsticks,” said one of the secretaries. “You have seen them before, right?”

“Yes, but why?”

As much as the police department had been infested with Christmas decorations before, it was now covered with glowsticks of all varieties.

The secretary shrugged. “You’ll find out. And, no, this isn’t hazing.” She broke a new glowstick with a snap.

“Right,” said McGee. “Where’s Daily?”

“Cameron Daily is in the computer bay,” said the secretary, pointing.

“Thanks,” grunted McGee, once again wondering why there was a separate computer bay when everyone had their own desks, computers, and, in some cases, additional laptops.

Screw it, he might as well ask.

“Hey, Daily.”

“Mm?”

“Why’s there a separate computer bay?”

“Oh, it’s shielded,” said Daily.

“Shielded.”

“Yep. No signals, and the Fentons did some pretty neat stuff to the walls. Bunch of, ehm, nasty hackers. We learned our lesson, eventually.”

“The Fentons.”

“Yeah. And Foley did the firewalls.”

“They’re the ones who did the computer filing system.”

“Uhuh. Kids are geniuses. The parents aren’t too shoddy, either.”

“The—” No. There was no way. “Are they the same Fentons that hunt ghosts?”

“Yeah. You wouldn’t think it to look at them, but apparently they live off of their patents. Made a bunch of fiddly little things that every other mass production factory in the country uses. Also, they own a toilet paper company. Not my favorite brand, but it isn’t the worst, honestly. Kind of wish we’d buy it here, but, no, we get that gross single ply. I swear, that stuff should be classified as a crime against humanity.”

“You let the ghost hunters deal with your computer security.”

“Oh, I know that tone. You met them, huh?”

“Just the kid.”

Daily looked up at McGee over the computer. “What?”

“I only met the kid. Danny.”

Slowly, Daily uncurled from his hunch in front of the computer. The man was taller than McGee thought.

“Then what’s your issue? Danny’s a good kid.”

A good kid whose parents were allowed to run roughshod over the town, who was allowed to steal from graveyards, and knew all of the police officers. For some reason.

“I heard you’re in charge of monitoring the cult?”

Daily snorted. “You make it sound like there’s just one.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, after all the ghosts, most religions had to modernize, you know?”

Oh, god, this was part of the tourist trap. Or the tourist trap was part of this. Did they recruit from people who actually believed this nonsense?

“There’s more than one cult?”

“Yep.”

“Sounds like quite a job.”

“Eh. I’m mostly just keeping track of their online activity.”

“So, how are the Fentons involved?”

“They aren’t. They’re pretty areligious, overall. Danny’s been almost kidnapped a few times, though.”

“What?”

“Kidnapped. By a cult.”

“Cults. Gotta remember the plural, man. Cults.” Daily was hunching again. “But, hey, if you’re interested in the subject, I can give you a thorough run-through of this new group that started up last week. Their philosophy is wild. I can’t even tell you—”

“Hey. You’re early,” said Patterson, leaning through the door, her braid swinging. “Great. Have you eaten?”

“Yes,” lied McGee.

“Get better at lying,” said Patterson. “Come on, let’s go.”

Patterson and Collins weren’t the only ones there. In fact, there were more people in the station than there had been that morning. All with glowsticks. Said glowsticks were being loaded into unmarked cars while office staff and police officers whispered back and forth.

“Did you get the green stuff?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. Gave me more than enough.” Glowing green milk jugs were loaded into a car. The car McGee would be riding in with Collins and Patterson.

‘Green stuff.’ Was this some kind of bizarre drug smuggling ring? McGee had fallen behind in drug slang, if so. ‘Green stuff.’ Were they lacing it with glowstick fluid?

Never before had he felt so lost on a case. Amity Park was messed up.

“You’ve got the howlers hooked up?” asked Collins.

“I asked Daily to do it this morning.”

“But did he do it?”

“I mean, it looks like it. Are the howlers really that important?”

McGee had no idea what was going on.

The cars all started off in a group. Their car was the last to leave and soon peeled off to trundle slowly down back roads.

“You probably have questions,” said Collins.

“You could say that,” said McGee.

“You’ve been a good sport about them,” observed Collins.

“So,” said McGee, drawing out the word. “What is this about?”

Patterson swallowed a laugh. “Ever hear of the Men in Black?”

“Look, I’m humoring the ghosts. Conspiracy theories are where I draw the line.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Maybe it’ll stick. Anyway, here in Amity Park, we deal with their less intelligent cousins. The Guys in White!”

“That’s not their actual name,” said Collins, glancing back over his shoulder. “But, well, their appearance fits.”

“Alright, let’s say I believe you. What does this have to do with the jugs of glowstick fluid in the trunk?”

“Oh, that’s not glowstick fluid,” said Patterson. “It’s waste from the reactor that powers the town.”

“Don’t worry,” said Collins, hastily, the car swerving somewhat. “It’s completely harmless! Not radioactive at all!”

“That’s not what—” started Patterson.

“You absolutely will not get cancer from it!”

McGee raised a hand. “You have nuclear reactor fluid in the trunk?”

“It isn’t nuclear reaction fluid,” protested Patterson. “It’s—"

“Back on track,” interrupted Collins.

“Yeah. Anyway. It’ll trip the Guys in White’s sensors—”

“Eventually,” Collins grumbled.

“—so we can lead them on a chase.”

“And… why do we want to do this?”

“Because it’s a quiet month,” said Patterson. “Don’t want the Guys to get antsy.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means what it means. You’ll see in January.”

McGee looked between his two ‘partners.’ “Are you trying to get me to quit?”

“Because you’re a spy for the county?” asked Patterson. “Oh, no, never.”

Before McGee could process that statement, the car’s radio crackled to life.

“We’ve got a class-3 northbound on Orion at 35 miles per hour. Ectosignature suggests an amorphiform ghost—”

“Hah!” shouted Patterson. “That’s us! Punch it!” She twisted the dial on the radio as Collins slammed his foot into the accelerator. “Bogey to Redrum! We’ve got followers!”

“Copy, Bogey, this is Redrum. We need a few more minutes to set up. Can you stay out of sight?”

“The hell?”

The radio crackled. “Forgot you had the new guy! Don’t shake him up too much, okay? Over.”

“Copy. Collins you catch that?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’m taking Pan and Laurel. The holiday tour.”

“Ooh, good choice.” Patterson held up the radio again. “Yeah, we can manage. Over.”

Collins went faster. For the next several minutes McGee occupied himself with not throwing up. He succeeded. Barely.

“Bogey, this Cam,” said the voice of Daily, “followers are gaining. They’re on Brassica, just passing High Street. Triggered the speed cameras. Over.”

“How many and what type? Over.”

“Three gliders. Don’t think they’ve spotted you yet, though. Over.”

Gliders? Who did these people think they were kidding?

“Copy, over,” said Patterson. “Not like those guys care about speeders, though,” she muttered. McGee could barely hear her over the beating of his own heart.

“Sharp right, brace yourselves,” said Collins, split seconds before matching action to words.

“Redrum to bogey, we’re moving out now, over.”

“Copy. We’re on our way. Over. Head to the park, Collins.”

“Gotcha.”

It didn’t seem possible, but Collins somehow pushed the car to go even faster. Then, just as quickly as the whole ridiculous thing had begun, the car skidded to a halt in a parking lot. Seeing his chance, McGee clawed at the door handle and dragged himself out onto the pavement.

Collins and Patterson, meanwhile, were pulling the almost-certainly-toxic waste out of the trunk and launching it into the glowstick-filled woods with—

“Is that a bazooka?” demanded McGee, so far past his wit’s end that he couldn’t even see it anymore.

“Nah, just a modified T-shirt canon,” said Patterson, stowing the object away again. “Fentonworks special.”

“I don’t believe you,” said McGee.

Three – Three things – McGee did not want to call them gliders – raced overhead, jets roaring and wind whistling. They came to a stop approximately where the ‘reactor waste’ had fallen.

“What the hell?” whispered McGee, passionately.

“Come on,” said Collins. “Time for us to go.”

“Yeah, better to spectate from afar,” agreed Patterson.

“I agree,” said a third voice.

“Oh, Danny,” said Patterson. “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

The boy walked into McGee’s field of view and glanced down at him before shrugging. “Couldn’t sleep.” He looked up, at the park. “Thanks for this.”

“Had to get them to blow this month’s budget somehow,” said Collins. “But, really, we should all go before the fireworks start.”

Danny sighed. “Hope they don’t blow up the fountain again. It just got fixed.”

“Same,” said Patterson.

“Well, see you later.”

“Yep, we’ve got that wellness check tomorrow,” said Collins. “You don’t have any excuse to forget, this time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said the teen, waving over his shoulder as he walked straight into the dark.

“What,” said McGee.

“That’s just Danny for you,” said Collins. “Great kid. Super creepy.”

“Yeah.”

“How’d he even know we’re here?” asked McGee, trying to keep his voice even.

“He did give us that eeeeehhhhhhh—reactor waste,” said Patterson. “Come on, get up, we’ve got to—”

A small explosion sounded from the park.

“Seriously. I don’t want to have to pick you up.”

“I’d wind up doing most of the lifting,” grumbled Collins, who was sliding into the driver’s seat.

Patterson put her hands on her hips. “Excuse you?”

There was another, larger explosion. McGee climbed back into the car.

As they drove, he realized that no one had made fun of his name. Not even once.

Amity Park was weird.

#danny phantom #ectober #ectober 2020 #ectober week #ectober week 2020 #day 6

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megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms · 3 years

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Foolishly Intelligent

Based on this request: I love your imagines! I would like to request a Sherlock imagine if that’s alright? Something along the line of the reader being Mycroft’s and Sherlock’s far younger sister. She tries to connect with her brothers but often feels left out. She started in her teens by Learning everything about murders, investigation and politics in order to find common ground with her brothers. Ad an adult this leads to her being part of Scotland Yard and always giving Greg an heart attack due to jumping into dangerous situations. He’s had enough and decides after one close call too many to involve her big brothers to chew her out.

Here you are! *Familiar Characters are NEVER mine!*

Fandom: BBC Sherlock

Warnings: Angst, arguing, Caring big brothers that pretend not to care because one is a high-functioning sociopath and the other is Mycroft XD, mentions of possible crush??

Pairings/Characters: fem!reader, brother!Sherlock Holmes, brother!Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade

Greg Lestrade had had it. You were a wonderful detective, that much was true, but you had a bad habit. You liked to put yourself in dangerous situations ALL. THE. TIME! You would often quite literally throw yourself into harm's way to get the job done or to protect others. Greg normally wouldn't say anything even though it gave him a near heart attack every time. But since learning of Sherlock's fake death, it had become worse.

The man could sort of understand where you were coming from. You had big shoes to fill with your brothers being who they were. Even as a child, you'd had trouble connecting with them. You had gone out of your way to learn and do things to help your relationship. And it wasn't that they didn't love you or respect you. It was that they could often have full conversations just through a look or that they would play their little deduction games and you would feel left out.

You'd told Greg, after having a few drinks one night, that you had been trying since your teens to connect with Sherlock and Mycroft. You were just as intelligent as they were so you began learning about murder, investigations, and even politics from an early age. Still, nothing seemed to help you connect with them. You'd even joined the Yard to spend more time with Sherlock.

But this last time was one too many for Greg. You had nearly died and the DI had a soft spot for you. In fact, you were the only Holmes the man could stand being around for more than a few minutes at a time. He didn't think he could take it if you kept running head-on into danger, but he knew you wouldn't listen to him. So, as he sat there next to your hospital bed waiting for you to wake up, he contemplated who you would listen to. There were only two people that popped into his head.

With a soft sigh, Greg stood and left your room to make a call. "Hello, Gavin. Has there been a murder?" Greg pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn't lose his temper now. "No, Sherlock." Sherlock scoffed on the other end of the line. "Boring. If you've nothing interesting to offer me, I'll say goodbye now."

"WAIT!" Greg shouted, then a little more softly added, "Your sister's in hospital." For a moment, there was only silence. Then Sherlock spoke again, "Watson, call Mycroft. St. Bart's?" Greg confirmed and was promptly hung up on. You were going to hate him when you woke, but at least your brothers might be able to talk some sense into you.

Sherlock burst through the doors a little while later, with Mycroft sauntering in a few moments after. "Would someone care to explain why I have been dragged from an important meeting?" Mycroft asked, prompting Greg and John to glare at the younger Holmes brother. "You didn't tell him?!" Greg hissed before turning to Mycroft, "Long story short, your sister's here. She decided to go into a hostage situation, alone, with no sidearm." Mycroft's brows furrowed briefly before a look of pure rage came over his features for a moment.

"And you didn't stop her?" Greg opened his mouth, but it was Sherlock who answered, "Oh please, Mycroft. Y/N would never listen if the lives of others are in danger. Not to Gordon anyway." Greg once again rolled his eyes. Would that man ever call him by his actual name?

"He's right. She doesn't listen. She's always throwing herself into situations like this. I thought, when she wakes up, the two men she looks up to the most could talk some bloody sense into her. Maybe then she'll listen." Both Holmes brothers merely stared at the DI, causing him to huff and walk away with John at his heels. He couldn't deal with them any longer for the moment. He needed to return to your side.

Just his luck, you were already awake when he pushed the door open. "Inspector," you greeted tersely. You had seen John behind him so you knew Sherlock wasn't far behind. "Don't look at me like that, Detective." You scoffed. "Like what? Like you betrayed my trust by calling them in? I know they're here. Might as well bring them in so I can hear all about how disappointed Mummy will be." Greg's brows furrowed in confusion. "Y/N…I just want you to be safe. Your brothers do too."

"Oh? Which brothers? The one who chucks himself off a building and pretends to be dead for 2 years? Or the one who knows about it and says nothing? Or the ones who refuse to let me into their lives, no matter how hard I try? I know I'm not brilliant like they are, but I try, dammit. And this is the only time I ever seen them away from home. When I'm in hospital."

"Fine," Greg soothed, "Fine. Don't talk to them. I don't care. But you have to stop being so reckless and stupid, Y/N. For my sake." Greg gaze your hand a little squeeze before leaving the room and allowing your brothers to walk in. For a moment, you said nothing, watching the space Greg had just been occupying. You were trying not to cry. Your brothers didn't do well with hysterics.

"Sherlock. Mycroft," you said. "Look at me, Y/N." You sighed softly. You knew you weren't exactly acting like an adult at the moment. That would get you nowhere with them. You swung your (e/c) eyes over to them. Sherlock stood with his hands in the pockets of his coat while Mycroft stared intently at you. They were both trying to deduce something about you. "Stop it," you ordered sharply, "Stop trying to deduce me and just ask me the question you want to ask." They exchanged a glance before turning back to you.

"Inspector Lestrade informed us that you threw yourself in harm's way yet again." You shrugged a bit. "I would again too. There were children in there. The elderly." Sherlock let out a scoff. "And that makes it okay for you to be so monumentally stupid?"

"I'm NOT stupid! Just because I'm not as callous as you are doesn't mean I'm an idiot, Sherlock! God, now I see the problem. It was never my fault we never connected. It was yours. You never tried." Your brothers stared at you in surprise. You had never spoken to them that way before. You rolled your eyes and groaned when your head began to hurt again.

"Just go. Both of you. You can tell John and Inspector Lestrade that they are welcome here. I don't want to see you two again for a while." You turned your head away from them both, indicating that you were done with the conversation. You heard them open the door to leave. "Oh, and don't you dare call Mummy. I'll tell her myself when I know I'm alright." Neither of them said anything, but left the room.

When you heard the door close behind them, you let a few tears finally fall. You hadn't wanted to blow up at them and you'd mostly likely end up apologizing later, but for now you were upset. You didn't have long to stew in your anger though before the door opened again. You turned to look and sighed. "I thought I told you to go."

"And we did. You failed to specify just how long you consider to be a 'while'. We listened to what you said and now it is your turn to listen to us. Despite what you may think, you are no closer to 'connecting' with Mycroft or myself by running head-long into danger." You arched a brow at him. "Oh, you mean like you do?" Sherlock didn't look impressed, but you could see Mycroft trying not to smirk.

"The point, little sister, is that, in spite of everything, your welfare is important to us. We need to know that you are safe. The career you've chosen lessens that likelihood, but deliberately putting yourself in situations where you could die destroys our hope for it completely."

"Oh gee, Mycroft, you do care," you replied sarcastically. You let out another sigh, "Look, I'm sorry. I know you're right. Just…please. Please stop letting this be the only reason you even check in with me. I know I'm not like you two. I never have been, but stop shutting me out. Okay? If you can promise me that, then I will promise to try and be more careful. For Mother and Father's sake. And for Greg's." You tried not to let your face show any emotion. Nothing to give away anything.

"Who?" You laughed lightly while Mycroft arched a brow. "We will discuss that topic at another time. I suppose I can agree to your terms. Sherlock?" Sherlock's blue eyes met yours and he nodded. You smiled; a genuine smile for the first time since they walked in the room. "Good. Now could you please leave? I'd really like to sleep now that I've been yelled at by both my brothers and my boss."

They opened the door again and you sat up. "Oh, and seriously. Don't tell Mummy." With a chuckle, your brothers left and you laid back to get a little more rest. Mycroft and Sherlock nodded at Greg when they exited the room, knowing he'd heard everything anyway. Greg breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully things would get better now. Greg looked in at you and smiled when you gave him a tiny wave.

(a/n: I hope this does your request justice!)

#bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #mycroft holmes #greg lestrade #x reader #holmes sister reader

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midnightactual · 3 years

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Yoruichi, Kūkaku, Kisuke and the Soul Society Arc

The relationship between Yoruichi, Kūkaku, and Kisuke isn’t explored much at all in canon, despite the fact we’re expected to take away that they’re friends (if not best friends). However, I think this relationship explains a lot of what happens within the early Soul Society arc. We know from chapter 175 that:

Aizen states he knew the Ryoka would be coming from West Rukongai. Why? Well, the only reasonable answer is Kūkaku. While it seems extremely evident that Yoruichi can enter Soul Society undetected in her cat form, using the Senkaimon, and has done so to remodel the Study Chamber’s annex, her going back and forth constantly is likely undesirable, and also probably didn’t happen, as chapter 78 indicates:

Kūkaku’s repeated emphasis of it having been a long time since she and Yoruichi have met suggests they haven’t done so since she went into exile. This is corroborated by the implication that Yoruichi does not know Ganju:

Her reaction to him introducing himself is the same as everyone else’s. You might say this is just a comedy moment, but think about it. How many people are there in Rukongai named Ganju? How many of them know some kind of strange earth magic? Yoruichi did not attach any importance to Ganju’s appearance in chapter 76 and 77, regarding him as a waste of time... when she’d literally just determined to find Kūkaku. If she knew Ganju was a Shiba and they already wanted to find Kūkaku, the sensible thing would’ve been to demand Ganju take them to her, not wander around using a map the next day. We also know from chapter 83 that:

Ganju was just a child when Kaien died, which happened sometime after 1952. (We know Hisana died “50 years ago” in 1951, Byakuya found Rukia the next year and brought her into the Gotei 13, and Rukia presumably spent at least a few years with Kaien.) This makes it likely (though by no means guaranteed, given the example of Nanao, but Ganju describes himself as “just a child” which Nanao likely wouldn’t have) that he was born after Yoruichi’s departure in 1901. They are likely to have never met before. (This also implies that Kaien, Kūkaku, and Ganju’s parents were alive until very recently, or may still be!)

So we can say 1. Yoruichi has been back to Soul Society and set up the the Study Chamber as a supply depot, and 2. she has likely not interacted with Kūkaku since leaving initially. Why the second? Well, pretty obviously, because meeting with Kūkaku would put her at risk and make things rather obvious. So, what does this have to do with Aizen? Well, that touches on another mystery: how does Kisuke get products from Soul Society?

We know from chapter 70 that Kisuke cannot go through his own Senkaimon. It follows that the same is true of Tessai. We know Yoruichi can as a cat, but likely can’t in her proper form. (Since she also comes back from Soul Society as a cat too, which is her last canonical use of the form.) We also know Kisuke’s Senkaimon can only stay open for four minutes:

We also know that transit through the Senkaimon is perilous. So, does it make much sense that Yoruichi run through the Dangai as a cat, hauling potentially heavy cargo which might get snared in the restrictive current and lost? Nope, especially when it’s likely that Yoruichi is not often at the Shōten (as Ururu and Jinta don’t know her and they’ve likely grown like normal humans). So what is the solution then?

Kisuke opens his Senkaimon above Kūkaku’s Flower Crane Cannon and she fires cargo shells through it containing his required items. Aizen noticed this and deduced how they were operating.

Kisuke’s Senkaimon opens in the air for some reason, almost as though to accommodate the height of the cannon:

Kūkaku launches crew with Method Two and the jolt isn’t so bad. (What’s Method One for then?)

The projectiles can also make sharp turns and accelerate after launch with no visible propulsion:

So, this presents a very obvious method of safely and securely getting cargo through the Dangai without risk to anyone. It is, however, conspicuous, and it also requires a method of communication.

Kūkaku moves around a lot, but appears to stick to West Rukongai. There may be some association between the Shiba and West Rukongai (as CFYOW tells us the Shiba lived in Rukongai even when they were a Great Noble Clan) which results in Kūkaku having an association with Jidanbō, which lets her easily enter the Seireitei even when she shouldn’t be able to (per CFYOW), or maybe she stays in West Rukongai for easy access to the Seireitei through him. Maybe both.

(We never hear what Yoruichi’s original plan for infiltrating the Seireitei was, but it appears to not have involved Kūkaku. My personal bet is that the canals under the Seireitei that 4th Division use empty out somewhere, as the water has to go someplace, and Hanatarō is wrong that only 4th Division knows them: it would make perfect sense that the Onmitsukidō know them too. But that’s a different piece of meta.)

It’s also very evident that Ichigo’s use of the Spirit Core in chapter 81 is what tips off Aizen that they’re coming. His use of it is extremely obvious, with Kūkaku noticing his reiatsu from the surface:

This flare is probably similar in output to the one he emits in chapter 116, which Jūshirō says could “only belong to a Captain”, making it likely readily obvious to Aizen’s surveillance (and Kūkaku also seems very surprised at the magnitude of it). Right after Ichigo stops using the Spirit Core, an intruder alert interrupts the meeting Yamamoto is holding to discuss Gin’s punishment, and all the Shinigami are kept up all night patrolling even though the Ryoka will not actually arrive until the next morning. This was very clearly orchestrated by Aizen, from within Central 46, in order to tire out and agitate the Gotei 13 so the Ryoka would be more successful at evading capture.

(This also means that the Aizen who attended the meeting, who Tōshirō saw exchange words with Gin, was not actually Aizen. That Aizen notably sweatdrops beforehand and behaves rather weirdly during the meeting and alert. It’s Substitute-san, nervous that the show’s started, delivering rehearsed lines with Gin. Probably a different guy than the one in TBTP since this once is much better at acting. Whatever happened to him anyway?)

In other words, Aizen observed that Kisuke’s Senkaimon only operated in West Rukongai (although his assertion that it only can operate there seems to be conjecture) and posted surveillance which detected Ichigo’s reiatsu emission, thus cluing him into the Ryoka preparing to move, just as he said.

That this pattern had long ago been made was probably predictable from Kisuke’s end, and he likely deliberately played into it to encourage Aizen’s arrogance, leaving Yoruichi to improvise on the ground.

As for how Yoruichi or Kisuke could communicate with Kūkaku during this time so as to place orders for equipment without visiting her, that’s a little more complicated. It’s obviously impossible to establish a hardline connection, and any kind of emitted signaling could be intercepted. Kisuke can’t run messages through his Senkaimon without sending someone on a perilous journey or building his own launching device. But there is an easy, expedient, covert, and disposable system: couriers.

There are plenty of souls left wandering around by Shinigami on Earth: you simply give them an encoded message and tell them to find Kūkaku once they arrive in Rukongai. While where they’re sent is random, if you do this a fair number of times, one of them should be able to make it to her. (Their reward is that given she always seems to live near the Seireitei, they wind up in a pretty safe district.) As for how Kūkaku would decode such a message, a cipher could’ve been left by Yoruichi as a dead drop during one of her rare visits.

If you wanted a darker but more “express” option, you would find someone fairly tough and violent (say, Yakuza enforcers), use a memory replacer to give them a memory of the message (it seems likely that Kisuke has iterated on the standard Gotei 13 Kikanshinki, given Yoruichi mentions a Kikanshinki Deluxe in CFYOW), and then kill them and give them soul burial. Such individuals would be far more likely to survive making it to Kūkaku regardless of where they were sent. (Depending on what they were guilty of, you could encode that into the message too and let her deal with them as she might.)

Anyway, I think it’s very obvious that Kūkaku is Yoruichi and Kisuke’s main point of contact in Soul Society. Jūshirō may also be involved, given his interest in Earth (vis-à-vis Ginjō and the Fullbringers) and how unlikely it is that nobody in the 13th Division ever noticed Kisuke, an infamous criminal (both Isshin and Ikkaku immediately recognized his name), was operating openly in Karakura. Indeed, Jūshirō may be directly involved. When the Ryoka are coming down over the Seireitei, we see that it has a radial design:

The four gates create four quadrants, each of which is divided into three. This makes for twelve slices. We know 1st Division occupies the center, so the most obvious orientation for the divisions’ physical territory is that each is simply a slice. If that’s the case, it is entirely possible that 13th Division is one of the two slices along the road coming from the West Gate, which would make it very easy for Kūkaku or her retainers to reach the Study Chamber at Sōkyoku Hill, gather supplies, and leave, or to augment them directly from 13th Division’s stocks.

#Out Of Character #Long Post #Meta #Headcanons

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yellowocaballero · 3 years

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Hunt!Tim: Five Times He Murdered Someone And One Time He Loved them <3

Just kidding. This is a fic set in my Roleswap AU, acting as a character study over the course of the series into...whatever the fuck was going on with that guy. I spent so much time and energy actually figuring out his arc and character that when I finished Solitaire I hadn’t said everything I wanted to say, so that’s why this exists. It’s...not funny at all. Tim takes himself far too seriously. I’m very sorry, there are almost no jokes in this. It just doesn’t work.

Content warning for story typical issues; but more explicit depiction of suicidal ideation, kidnapping and physical assault, just in general a very fucked up little dude, and gendered violence that is more explicitly discussed as a possible precursor to further violence. Rest under the cut.

“I’m going to fucking kill them!”

“Well,” Sasha said, tapping away relentlessly on her phone as she sat primly on his couch. During work hours she was always doing something mysterious on her laptop, and after work it was on her phone. She had once alluded to being the moderator of an improbable number of forums. She liked the power. “We could probably make that happen. It’s the Magnus Institute, it’s suspicious if nobody's dying. But four people at once may not be prudent.”

“I don’t care!” Tim yelled. He paced his living room in tight lines, turning sharply on his heel at the end of the room. It felt like he was bursting with pent-up energy and rage, sending his heartbeat thumping in his ears like a war drum. “They’re obstructing justice, withholding evidence from an investigation, probably acting as an accomplice -”

“I’m going to fucking kill them!”

Sasha’s head snapped up, eyes glinting at him behind the big glasses that she always hid behind. “So you do think they were involved in Gertrude’s death?”

“Who cares. They did something, they’re obviously guilty of whatever. Every one of them have rap sheets.” Everyone but that blonde woman, which seemed a little counter-intuitive. “We just have to find something.”

Sasha hesitated, just momentarily, and she carefully put her phone down. “You’re angry, Tim. It’s affecting your judgement. Remember when we talked about that? Deep breaths. Come on, in one and out two. ”

Tim grimaced, but Sasha was right. He stopped pacing, and at Sasha’s encouraging look he resentfully took a few deep breaths. It did make him feel better. His heart wasn’t thumping in his ears anymore. She was so good at calming him down. She was just so wonderful in every way.

Thinking about how great Sasha was effective in clearing his head, but it just highlighted how terrible those women were in comparison. No respect. It was disgusting.

“Thanks,” Tim said gruffly, eliciting a beautiful smile. He collapsed on the couch next to her, disgusted and frustrated. “We’re never going to solve this Robinson case so long as those women are in the way. I won’t tolerate any obstacles in getting justice.”

“I know, and that’s what’s brave about you,” Sasha soothed, clasping his shoulder gently. Her thumb worked into his shoulder, gentle and soothing. “But we have to do it quietly. We don’t just need them out of the way, we need information. I’ll work on the technological side. You can dig up an entire life online, trust me. But if they know any of the secrets about the Institute and the Archives, we have to press them. That’s your strength, Tim. You can get anything out of anyone, because you never give up.”

Tim turned his head and smiled weakly at her. “And your strength is that you’re always there for me.” Her eyebrow ticked, but Tim hardly noticed. “I’ll keep pressing. They can’t stonewall me forever. I have their boss’ address, I’ll just show up there.”

“He’s going to ask for a warrant -”

“Oh, who gives a shit, nobody cares.” Tim snorted. “He’s a pussy if he’s hiding behind those women, anyway.” At Sasha’s carefully arched eyebrow, Tim quickly added, “Coward, I meant coward.”

“So you do remember our conversation about being PC,” Sasha said, making Tim snort. Please. Those sensitivity training the department was always forcing on them was a joke. Tim laughed with the other guys about it afterwards. He didn’t know why Sasha was complaining; she laughed just as mockingly as the rest of them. But she just readjusted her glasses now, a sign she was a little nervous. “Tim, about what you said just before we left -”

“What about it?” Tim said sharply.

Sasha was silent for a minute, before adjusting her glasses again. “Nothing. Just - be careful, okay? People who get too close to the Magnus Institute end up dead.”

If only they would. But Tim grinned at her, bright and sharp, and Sasha hesitantly smiled back too. Tim’s conviction, his bravery, always seemed to make her feel better. Sasha thought too much. She rarely second guessed herself - that was why Tim liked her - but sometimes she just thought herself into twists. She needed someone like him to cut that Gordian Knot. “Don’t worry, Sash. The good guys always prevail.”

Tim would kill them. All he needed was a reason.

ii.

Tim had nightmares, now.

Not full ones. Strange, fragmented dreams that were quickly forgotten after he woke up. Most of the time. But not always. And they were so strangely vivid - as if he was really living that moment over and over again.

It was of that construction site. And of Danny, watching those murders and the corpses with a sick, fascinated smile. And of Tim, defenseless and powerless and trembling and weak, watching it all happen.

Sometimes there would be a man. Just once or twice. The man, who would always be wearing really stupid pyjamas that contrasted wildly with how attractive he was, would frown at Tim.

‘Hey’, Sims said, ‘aren’t you that prick?’.

And Tim would wake up, heart beating fast, thumping in his ears, afraid in exactly that same poisonous metallic way that he hadn’t felt since he was a child.

Tim was going to kill that monster.

****

On a Monday afternoon, Tim sat in the driver’s seat of his car, checking his gun.

Gun, check. Rope, check. Shovel, check. Lighter and gasoline, check. Axe with belt, check, just in case things went really south. Gag, check. Tim had no idea how many secret powers that thing had, he wasn’t taking any chances.

Monday was the only night that they all went home alone. It took two frustrating weeks of stake-outs to realize that. Since he had cornered that bitch Melanie she even walked home with Daisy, who apparently lived close by. It was worth it, though. She was finally feeding him useful information, even though Tim knew that she thought she was giving irrelevant information about what they really wanted. He gave most of it straight to Sasha, who was salivating over all of the puzzle pieces Melanie was casually dumping on them as if they were meaningless. Whatever. That was Sasha’s job.

She had been worried about him lately. Probably. Tim hadn’t really noticed. He was focused on the case. Tim was a perfectionist like that.

Finally, at 5:20, Tim saw the monster - Jon, whatever, he wasn’t scared of him - round the corner. He was a little hard to distinguish in the darkness, but that was why Tim had left the headlights on.

His heart was thumping, roaring in his ears. Tim was giddy with excitement and anticipation and thirst. Catching them wasn’t the best part, but this would feel so good. He had been vividly imagining the look of fear on the thing’s face for the past month, ever since he assaulted Tim. He just couldn’t decide how he wanted to kill him - he brought his nightstick just in case he wanted to bash his face in, but fire was practical and incredibly painful.

Showtime, Tim thought, as he opened his car door and stepped out. After Tim took care of this, he and Sasha would be safe. That was the important thing. He was protecting Sasha from that thing. That was why he did it, all of it.

Jon startled a little when he saw him, but his face was backlit from the headlights and his features were probably obscured. It wasn’t until Tim stepped forward, easily and casually, that Jon began the slight speedwalk of a pedestrian encountering a persistent panhandler on the street.

“Stop right there.”

Jon froze. Not as stupid as he looks, then. Still pretty stupid.

Tim walked forward until he was standing at Jon’s back, already silently drawing out his handcuffs with one hand.

“Detective Stoker,” Jon said, and Tim almost respected the way his voice didn’t shake. “I wish this was more of a surprise.”

Normally Tim appreciated a good intimidating monologue, but he could be more efficient right now. Besides, there was time for that later. Jon turned his head backwards slightly, trying to see his face - perfect - and Tim waited until he could see his expression before he jammed the barrel of his gun on Jon’s throat.

There it was. The expression that few people besides Tim had ever seen, that secret face of man that each person felt so few times in their lives if they felt it at all. The face of a man who knew he was about to die.

It was Tim’s little secret.

“Why -”

Tim bashed it over the head with the barrel of the gun, and it dropped on the gun like a lanky puppet with its strings cut. No use letting it finish a question.

Handcuffs, rope, trunk. Carefully just under the speed limit, barrelling out of London into the cold and emotionless woods. Turning on the stereo - some mindless Amy Winehouse song. Tim found himself whistling along with it, fingers drumming on the steering wheel.

It wasn’t that Tim liked killing people, or even things that looked and begged and cried like people. But it was just something you had to do. Tim shouldered that burden, so innocent people wouldn’t have to. As a police officer, he had sworn to be the wolf that protects the sheep. That was Tim - that loyal and heroic wolf.

The thrill was overwhelming. That was why people had sex in public - that excited thrill over possibly getting caught. Not that he would, and even if he did Tim basically had carte blanche to handle his cases how he wanted, but he could. His skin was prickling, his heartbeat thumping in his ears. Saliva was pooling in his mouth, which he wiped off with one hand. Adrenaline did weird things. When he looked at the rear mirror inside the car to check on Jo - the monster, he saw the light of the headlights glinting strangely against his eyes, but in another second it was gone.

Tim didn’t have a ‘spot’ because that was fucking idiotic, but all of his dumping places had basically the same characteristics. You had to drive a while to get something really private. It took an hour, but they got to Chiltern hills eventually, and Tim was forced to squint at Google Maps to find the GPS coordinates he had planned out. It felt a little ridiculous to use Google Maps to find a burial spot for somebody but - well, life was weird.

When he stopped, he carefully took out the gag, the axe, the shovel, his own hunting knife, and dumped them in the spot he had picked out. He held the gag and holstered the hunting knife before carefully popping open the trunk.

Jo - the monster was awake. Which was fortunate; there was no fight when they were unconscious. He stared up at Tim with big brown eyes, all innocent and pleading, and Tim rolled his eyes before bending down to securely jam the gag in his mouth before grabbing him by his tied hands and dragging him out. The thing made a bunch of sad noises, and from the sounds of it he had wrenched a shoulder, but that wouldn’t be an issue in a few minutes.

The thing’s legs had clearly fallen asleep, and he stumbled onto the ground the minute Tim let go of him. He kept his eyes on Tim almost frantically, as if he could brainwash him by his eyes alone - could he? Could he? His eyes were fucking freaky.

Jesus. What if he could. Fuck, Tim barely knew anything about his freaky powers. But if he could brainwash via eye contact, couldn’t he -

No. Tim shook himself. That was the fear talking. Which shouldn’t exist. The fear should be gone. He had the thing bound and gagged at his feet, terrified out of its life, he couldn’t possibly still be scared of it. Fucking stupid. He was just cautious. That was caution. Tim was a cautious person.

Time for his favorite part, then.

Tim grinned lazily down at the thing, letting his white teeth flash in the lit headlights of the car. He hadn’t been able to sleep last night, writing all of this out in his mind. “Not so great on the other side, huh?”

The monster’s eyes widened.

Tim dragged him away from the car, not bothering to be gentle. He kicked and pushed on the ground, and although he was bony as hell the guy was tall and desperate, and Tim was forced to kick him down on the ground and draw his gun. He hadn’t wanted to draw the gun - they never fought and kicked and snarled and bit with the gun - but he wasn’t taking any chances here.

“I want you to know,” Tim said, friendly and warm, “that I’m doing this because I made a promise. On my badge and on my life, I protect the innocent from predators. I defend society from threats. There’s a corruption in the world, a sick and rotting infection, and it’s my job to tear it out. But I get no joy from this, okay?” He didn’t know why it was important that the monster knew that. It wasn’t like he was going to hold a grudge. The monster tried to sit up, but Tim kicked him again until he hit the ground again. Tim hated how he was shorter than him when they both were standing. He wanted to look down on him for once.

The monster was always looking down on him. With his little girl gang and his bestest buddies. With that - that moral superiority. He thought he was so smart and popular. Just because he could rip someone’s deepest secrets out of someone, he thought he was better. Just because he knew Tim’s worst fear, he thought that he had power over Tim.

Nobody did. Nobody had power over Tim. Not anymore.

“But you,” Tim hissed, “you, out of everyone I’ve ever killed - I’m going to enjoy you. You’ve crept into the lives of all those humans. You even got fucking Sasha telling me you’re not all bad. Is that what you do? Convince everybody around you that you’re a good person, when you’re a piece of shit inside?” His hand was trembling on his gun - that wasn’t in the script. Why was that happening? “Well, guess what. No matter how great you think you are, you will always be a monster.”

The handle of Tim’s gun was coated in sweat, making his trembling hand slide. Why? The gasoline and lighter were standing by his feet, ready to burn the body. His heart was thumping in his chest, not from anticipation and thrill - why? Why? Why?

“Tim, no!”

Tim, so focused on what he was doing, jerked so hard he almost fired the gun. He whipped around to the source of the voice, and found to his shock a familiar car and a familiar woman standing by it, face set in a fierce determination.

It was Sasha. Somehow, the sight of her was deeply wrong to Tim. She shouldn’t be here. Sasha should never see this. She knew, she had helped - always the finger pointing in the direction to unleash Tim - but she shouldn’t see it. He knew it wasn’t real to her, what he did.

“Sash,” Tim said weakly, hand drooping.

Jon screamed from behind his gag. He might have been calling for help.

“Put the gun down,” Sasha said coldly. She was just dressed in jeans and a messy t-shirt, as if she had come here in a great hurry. How had she kno - okay, Sasha knew everything, it was no surprise.

“Why? Sasha, what are you doing here?” Tim cried, in genuine confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that Jon is innocent of everything!” Sasha yelled, and Tim almost flinched back. “He didn’t kill Gertrude, he doesn’t know anything about what’s going on! Trust me, Jon and his team have nothing to do with any of this!”

“He’s a fucking demon, Sash,” Tim said incredulously. How could she take his side? How? “Don’t you remember what he did to me? How can you forgive that?”

“You’re not a saint either!” Sasha screamed - the first time Tim had ever heard her scream at him. He couldn’t believe this was happening. How had he lost control of the situation so badly? “If you kill him you will break his team.”

As if a single coworker nobody dying will upset anybody. “And how long until he attacks or kills his team?” Tim asked furiously. “They’re the biggest bitches I’ve ever met, but they’re human. Monsters hurt humans, Sasha. It’s in their nature. How long until he hurts someone else? How long until he hurts you?”

“If you kill him,” Sasha said, quiet and strangled and hurt, “I will never forgive you.”

Nobody had power over him - nobody, perhaps, save Sasha. She held his heart in his hands, ready at a moment’s cue to crush it or rip it out of him. He couldn’t bear her disapproving face, her quiet disappointment. If she didn’t love him, if she took that away - he wouldn’t have anything. Nothing would be left. He had to protect that love, protect her.

“Sasha,” Tim said weakly, “out of everybody, I thought you would understand.”

“I do. I’m the only one who will ever understand. That’s why you have to trust me.”

Maye that was the problem. Tim did. She was the only person he had ever trusted.

Tim flicked the safety, and dropped the gun.

Just to make himself feel better, he bent his leg back to kick Jon, but - but, for some reason, he didn’t. It just seemed so tiresome. What was the point? What was the point of any of this?

The point had always been to protect humans from the monsters. To protect Sasha. But Sasha didn’t want his help. What did he have now?

“Take him back to his house,” Tim said dully. He glared fiercely at Jon, whose face was falling in relief. “If you tell the police about this, nobody will believe you and nobody will care. If you tell anybody else about this, I’ll find you again and beat you half to death. Got it?”

Jon nodded fervently.

After that, it was all a blur. Sasha helped him up, took him to her car, and he saw her cut through his restraints once he was safely inside. Tim just gathered up his materials and dumped them in the trunk of his car, sliding into the driver’s seat and gunning the engine.

He drove home in a depressed haze, feeling worthless, feeling powerless, feeling exactly like Jon always made him feel.

His hands clenched on the steering wheel. If Jon didn’t know shit about what was going on - and Tim believed that, guy was fucking stupid - then who did? If Jon hadn’t turned into a monster on purpose, then who had turned him into a monster?

Elias Bouchard always gave Tim a bad feeling.

He’d collect some evidence. Give it a few weeks, then confront him. Bouchard would bend and crack. Then Tim would be free. Free of the Magnus Institute, free of how it made him feel.

He roared towards home, unsatisfied and angry, still afraid.

iii.

“Can you pass the rice?”

Tim silently passed Mom the bowl, staring intently at his own plate and silently shovelling potatoes in his mouth. Dad was doing his usual thing and just kind of squinting at his plate and chewing like a cow with cud. Danny was, from the outside, eating food like a normal person. Tim knew that he was vibrating with anticipation.

“So,” Mom continued, faux-brightly, “it’s been a while since you boys came home. Too good for your old folks, huh?”

The passive aggressive route - deal with the criticism, but if you bit back then it was ‘just a joke’. Favored tactic of Ha-eun Stoker.

“Sorry, Mom,” Danny said, one arm thrown over the back of his chair, utterly unrepentant, “work’s been hell lately. Big case came in, and if I want to be promoted to junior partner…”

Sure enough, Mom brightened right up. “Really! Tell us all about your case, Danny!”

Then they were off. Tim zoned out, blankly spooning gamja jorim into his mouth as Danny endlessly rattled off about his accomplishments and Mom cooed and aah’d relentlessly. Dad just chewed, occasionally grunting in satisfaction and approval.

Wow, the coveted paternal approval. Way to make them all jump through hoops for it. Tim rolled his eyes.

Unfortunately, he was caught. Mom turned her piercing gaze on him, smiling pleasantly with perfect teeth. Of course they were perfect; she had work done. All of the other women in the neighborhood do it, Tim, we should fit in. Oh, this necklace is just so in style, I saw Ms. Wallace down the street wearing it. Fucking lemming.

“What about you, Tim?” Mom asked. “How’s work going? Normally you’d be telling us all about your big arrests.”

Ah. The reason why Tim had done everything possible to avoid family dinner. They had this once a month, the only time they could all be assed to talk to each other, and Tim had jumped through hoops to try and escape.

Danny didn’t let him. This was way too entertaining to him.

He knew. Tim didn’t know how, but that was irrelevant. Danny always knew. He couldn’t lie and make up some case. Tim took a careful sip of his dak gomtang, stalling.

Finally, he said, “I took a new job, actually.”

Dad looked up from his plate. Mom’s jaw dropped.

“But you loved your job,” Mom said, for all appearances broken-hearted. “What happened?”

Danny leaned back in his chair, hands folded behind his head, grinning. “Yeah, brother. You loved that job, you’d never quit. What happened?”

“My work partner was caught and forced to sign an employment contract by a middle management stoner, blackmailing me into working with her so I wouldn’t get arrested by the police for my dozen murders.”

Everybody stared at him. Tim sipped some water.

“That isn’t very funny, Timothy,” Mom said.

God, these people were so serious. In the stupidest second of his entire stupid life, he missed the Archive team just a little bit. At least they had a sense of humor. He’d never known those bitches to take anything seriously. But even when they were literally engaging in cult-level shunning of him and Sasha, they were always together. What was with homos and that gay found family shit?

“Kidding. I don’t know, Mom, I was just going stir-crazy. Being a copper just felt like such a dead-end job.”

“But you said you were on track for Lieutenant,” Mom gasped. “How could you throw that away?”

“I don’t know, Mom,” Danny said, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “I don’t think Tim would quit his job voluntarily.”

Mom’s jaw dropped. “You were fired?”

Tim was too dead inside for this. “Sure. I’m a librarian now. It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter?” Mom positively screeched. “What am I supposed to tell Mrs. Walker now? That my son’s not on track to Lieutenant, that he was fired? I’ve never been so ashamed of you. You’re going to make me a laughingstock, Tim. In all my life, you’ve never once cared about how your actions affected me. Let me tell you right now that this is disgraceful. You’re a grown man, and you’re still acting like a child who blah blah blah. Tim’s a disappointment and we hate him blah blah. How could I have raised such a lazy yammer yammer yammer. I only pay attention to you when I’m yelling at you and I’m totally in the right because Rachel Granger said that yada yada -”

“Well, this was fun,” Tim said pleasantly, wiping his mouth with a napkin before balling it and tossing on the table. He put his chopsticks down and stood up, dusting off his hands. “Great to see all of you again, so much fun, but I have a cat to go iron.”

But Dad was staring at him, even when Mom was fuming in rage. In Korean, he said, “You’re disrespecting your mother, Ji-hoon.”

“For god’s sake, Richard, we speak English in this house. His name’s Timothy,” Mom snapped. Danny rolled his eyes.

“Why not?” Tim asked in Korean, just to piss off Mom. Basira would have sneered at her respectability politics. Melanie would have lost her temper an hour - no, thirty years ago. Why were they stronger than Tim? “You don’t respect her.”

Almost silently, Danny whistled.

“Timothy,” Mother started, scandalized, “listen to your -”

“Why? What can she say to me, besides the same shit I’ve been hearing my entire life? She’s not saying anything interesting.” Tim smiled brightly at his family, flashing all of his teeth. “You know what? In comparison with my life lately, you three are pretty fucking boring. Bye.”

That was when his mother burst into tears, and his father started yelling at him at the top of his voice and thumping the table until the dishes rattled, and when Danny started laughing. If they did anything else, if Dad was about to get out of his chair and smack him, if Mom was going to disown him, Tim didn’t wait around to see it. He grabbed his bomber jacket and stalked out the door, letting it fall behind him.

He breathed heavily on the pretty little sidewalk in front of their pretty little house. The pretty little roses in the pretty little garden bloomed perfectly, and their thorns were all cut off. Down the street pretty little houses made of ticky tacky loomed, and they were all within HOA compliance in their gated little community. Nobody in. Nobody out.

When he was fifteen, Tim hated it because his parents were always trying to impose normalacy on him and he had never fucking measured up. When he was a young adult, he had hated it because he had fancied himself a gritty, street-wise cop who grappled with the dregs of society and always came out victorious. The perfect little families here thought that their gates could protect them from the cold and hard outside world - but the monsters in the world lived and breeded in their backyards, and they were too busy trimming their lawns to notice.

He should go home. It was late, and he had his ridiculous, evil, gloriously imperfect job tomorrow. God, Melanie would hate this place. She would sneer at him for ever having lived here, chalking it up with his infinite list of sins. All you pigs are the same, she would nag, privileged and sheltered. Bitch. Why was she always right?

But Tim just couldn’t work up the energy to drive all the way home. His heart felt scooped out with a grapefruit spoon. Instead he stumbled into the little alley next to the house, where the garbage trucks and the alley cats roamed, and he collapsed into a little patch of scrubby grass. This had been his favorite place to sulk as a child. Or hide from Danny. Danny always found him, of course, but it was the principle of the matter -

“Man, I can’t believe I got that show for free. You should have charged, Ji-hoon.”

“Fuck off, Danny,” Tim said, tone dull with how rote the phrase was.

When he glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Danny was dappled in night. The only light was from the streetlights, and the lights of their porch. In the dim lighting, Danny was lit by a bright aura but his features were hidden in the dark. Like an angel, Danny shone, and like a devil, Tim hid in the shadows. Hidden in the corner, like a powerless child.

“It’s a compliment! Normally you’re the most boring, predictable bitch alive. Wind your key and watch you go. But not even I could have predicted the shit you pulled today. Fantastic.” Danny grinned, a slash of the mouth. “You’re dead disowned, buddy. You crossed a line. They’ll never forgive you.”

“Fuck off, Danny.”

“I’m looking forward to being an only child,” Danny mused. “Mom and Dad were always so obsessed with you, it’ll be nice to have them all to myself. When I make junior partner, do you think Dad will clap me on the back? Give me a hug?” He affected a sad look, pulling his face into a mockery of tragedy. “I’m really going to miss you. You always lowered the bar for me.”

“Fuck off, Danny.”

Apparently that was one ‘fuck off’ too many, because Danny kicked Tim in the ribs. He always knew exactly where to hit - right in an old scar in the ribs, a bullet wound that he had never told him about. Tim wheezed, but he didn’t move. No point.

In a brief, strange flash of memory, Tim remembered bending his knee back to kick Jon in the stomach. Jon hadn’t flinched. Had there been no point?

“I know you spent your entire sad little childhood thinking I ruined your life. That’s bullshit and you know it. You didn’t need anyone else to ruin your life, Timbo. You’ve always been good enough at that yourself.” He pulled a faux-surprised face. Every expression Danny ever had was fake. Everything was a mask, plastic and fake. “Even your relationships, right? How’s that Mexican bird you got following you around? She still refusing to fuck you? I should pick her up, I bet she’s real easy -”

Tim saw red.

It was easy, in the end. Maybe too easy. He leapt up, in one easy and smooth motion, and tackled Danny to the ground. Tim had always been bigger but Danny had always been stronger, no matter how long Tim spent at the gym, but that didn’t matter now. Tim was faintly aware he was snarling as Danny hit the ground hard, head bouncing on the grass.

There was no time for him to recover. Tim punched him in the face, keeping him down, before punching him again. He felt bone break under his fist. A nose.

He didn’t remember anything after that. Everything fuzzed out a little, trapped in the swirling of his rage and the thump of his heartbeat. It wasn’t Martin’s anger, it wasn’t Sasha’s cold chase. It was just hatred.

It wasn’t that - that thing inside Tim, the thing he had spent years denying. It was just Tim. Or maybe Tim was that thing, and that thing was Tim.

He was faintly aware that somebody was grabbing him by the elbows, pulling him off. There was screaming. Wailing. He couldn’t really tell. Tim was dizzy, hands wet and sticky. Someone was crying - the nauseatingly familiar sound of his mother sobbing.

Just boys roughhousing, Tim wanted to say. That was a good line, snappy and sarcastic. Just boys being boys, the same line he had heard time after time after time when Danny coated his entire torso in bruises. Monsters, acting like monsters. Men, doing what men always do.

Tim left the scene. He wouldn’t be back. Never return to the scene of the crime, ha ha ha. He wouldn’t be welcome back. It should have felt crushing, isolating, terrifying.

But instead, Tim just felt free. As if a crushing weight had fallen off his shoulders, and he no longer felt suffocated by endless picking and prodding and pushing. It...he didn’t feel scared.

Tim walked down the street, taking the long way home, whistling happily. He hated himself a little bit less than usual tonight. Things were looking up.

iv.

Tim stared at Melanie as she slept.

It wasn’t hard. They kept the lights on, although after a few days Melanie had started to use a sleeping mask. She had recovered from what happened fairly quickly. She still let him keep his arm on her.

It tingled, just a little, where it touched her. She was warm and soft, breathing softly in a gentle rise and fall of her chest. Her face was slack with sleep. No nightmares. Melanie only looked gentle when she was asleep: any other time, her face was screwed up in intent thought or a mean comment or an exaggerated face made behind someone’s back.

It was the first time Tim had slept in the same bed as a woman without sleeping with her. At Sasha’s, he always slept on the couch. It was a little weird. It was really weird. He kept on telling himself to pull away, to rebuild that bridge that had been so effortless with Sasha, to act normal and stop being desperate and needy.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Every time he let go of her, he was alone. No matter how many people surrounded them, no matter how big the room or busy the sprawling London streets, when she was out of the room it felt as if she would never come back.

He hated the way he felt. It was disgusting, crawling in his gut and heart like rot. He hated himself for feeling it, he hated the world for doing it to him, and he hated Melanie for making him feel this way.

He didn’t know love could be this painful.

***

Did he love her?

Tim was fairly sure he couldn’t love anybody. Whatever he felt for Sasha, it couldn’t be love. It could only be a selfish, disgusting poison. Or maybe he really did love her, and love really was poison - if it was the kind of love Tim felt for other people, if it was all he could give.

But Tim knew Sasha, down to her soul. He knew her dark secrets, every skeleton in her closet. He knew what she was running from, why she had landed in England and never left, why she felt just as passionately for Tim’s crusade for justice as he did.

Justice. What a joke.

But Melanie wasn’t like that. She was rough and bitchy and meddling and willfully idiotic, but if you scratched that surface she was perfect. Kind, understanding, forgiving, patient, supportive - the kind of girl Tim had always wanted. Not that Sasha hadn’t been - but Sasha was somebody he should probably stay away from, for her own good.

Melanie had saved him. Melanie was trying to fix him, and she wouldn’t stop until she did. She wouldn’t give up - she never gave up on anything or anyone. Even Tim. Maybe, if it was her, Tim could be fixed.

He squinted at her in the soft lights keeping away the dark lingering in the small windows. Did he want to kiss her? He should, right? Any emotion this strong, anything that made him feel so vulnerable and desperate and insane had to come with wanting to be with her. Not that she could ever like him that way back…

The idea was oddly nice. Men and women couldn’t be friends. But maybe Tim and Melanie could - Melanie, who would never love him in that way, freeing Tim of the obligation to reciprocate.

He settled a little bit more, tucking her a little bit closer under him until he could no longer see her face. The idea was heady - that she was letting him do that, that she could be open and vulnerable in front of him too. That Tim had never really protected anybody, that Melanie was the first person to ever protect him, and that maybe he could pay that back.

Maybe she could fix him. Give him love that was pure instead of corrupted; selfless instead of selfish. Tim needed her.

He tried not to hate it.

***

That night, Tim had a dream that he was fucking Melanie in his old bed in his old flat. Danny was there, somehow, constantly mocking Tim on how badly he was doing, and every time Tim would yell at him to get out he would just laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh -

***

Melanie dragged him to work with her the next morning, as Tim chugged a shitton of coffee and considered braining himself with a hammer so he could forget the dream he had last night. He would literally prefer the construction site nightmares. He could barely meet her eyes, and lived in relentless paranoia that somehow she knew and was going to call him disgusting which would be fair and true and -

“Do you think the old man in Home Alone is a Jesus allegory?”

Tim blinked blearily at her, still chugging his coffee. They had gotten his car keys and car back from Sasha - she still had everything he ever owned, but he didn’t want to deal with that - but Melanie was driving, since Tim’s reaction time wasn’t that good anymore and he tended to zone out. They would take the tube and avoid London traffic except, well…

“I have no opinions on Home Alone,” Tim said blankly. He had been reading Thus Spoke Zarathustra on his phone. So far he had several points of disagreement, his largest was the man’s weird obsession with atheism. Granted, it was hard to be a nihilist and be religious, but Tim had insider information on the nature of the universe and he was working on a thesis - anyway. Anyway. “Why?”

“It’s a good movie, right? We should watch it for movie night tonight.”

“I thought you wanted to watch T2 today.”

“Aw, fuck, right.” Melanie slightly slapped the steering wheel. They didn’t move - traffic was really hell. “I am a slut for fictionalized violence. Isn’t Sarah Connor the most badass action hero ever?”

“She’s awesome,” Tim agreed warmly. “But Schwarzenneger in that movie is just peak. Have you ever seen Predator? It was his best role.”

Melanie snorted. “Predator was so boring. Just a lot of oiled up men flexing at each other.”

Typical. Tim rolled his eyes, propping an elbow below the window, but he found himself smiling anyway. “What do you want me to watch instead, Blue is the Warmest Color?”

“Laugh all you want, idiot. You’re getting the whole rota of required watching for gay people. First on the list is the Birdcage, then right after that Paris is Burning -”

Tim groaned theatrically, drowning her out, but all that did was hit him with the musk of his small, battered car. The smell of Melanie hit him like a truck - her Melon shampoo, her 24 hour deodorant, the dust of the Archives, something unique to her that he just couldn’t place.

To Tim’s horror, the scent pulled at that deep pit in his stomach. Don’t think about it. Don’t tell anyone. Don’t let them know - except for Sasha, who always knew. It made him want to do - stuff that he didn’t want to do. Not really. Tim didn’t want that. Whoever Tim was.

Counterintuitively, the hunger made it easier to keep that fake smile and forced manic energy when they got to the office. He wasn’t really up to it today - some days were easier than others - but that didn’t really matter when he had to aggressively convince everybody that he was fine. The alternative was everybody giving him sad and pitying looks, which was a thousand times worse than any infernal hell torture.

It wasn’t. But he still didn’t want to deal with it.

So he kicked the door open, yelled something meaningless about how the bitch was back, and let Basira ignore him and Martin roll his eyes and Sasha very pointedly ignore him. He noted that Daisy wasn’t in this morning - ever since their planning session, she had been dropping by more frequently to flirt obnoxiously with Basira, but she obviously couldn’t spend all of her time here if she wanted to keep up the pretense with Peter Lukas.

Which was...somewhat of a relief.

Tim collapsed in what used to be Daisy’s chair at her desk, which was for far more important reasons than just because he didn’t want to sit next to Sasha. The upside is that Melanie sat diagonal from him, across from Basira, who didn’t give a shit what he did if she wasn’t using him as a meaningless sounding board for her constant venting. It wasn’t all bad, if he didn’t look too hard at whatever the fuck Martin was doing at any given time.

So he swiveled in his chair as Melanie, Basira, and Sasha disappeared into the library. He stood up to go with her, but Melanie made a gesture that sent him sitting down again. Martin, who was writing something ornate in his journal, snickered.

Six months ago Tim would have snapped at him, but instead he just leaned back in his chair and squeezed his grip trainer. The grind never stopped. “Writing love poetry, buddy? In the Romantic tradition or the...fuck, I don’t know any other poets.”

Martin silently held up his journal. The only thing written was ‘murder kill murder’, repeatedly, up and down two pages.

Well. That was enough teasing Martin for one day. He really had no idea how Melanie was brave enough to get Martin to listen to listen to her - or, worse, why he did.

After an hour or so, spent reading Plato and disagreeing with a great deal, Jon slunk out of his office and blinked owlishly at both Tim and Martin, who had been politely minding their own business.

Tim realized - in the same way that, whenever he saw Jon, he was inescapably reminded that he knew what he looked like when he was about to die - that the room was filled with two guys who had tried repeatedly to kill him. Fuck, he was probably uncomfortable. Good job, Tim. Way to keep terrorizing people. But he really wasn’t capable of doing anything else, so it was hardly a surprise -

“Hullo, Martin. I’m picking up some food from the vending machine, do you want anything?”

Oh. They were going for ‘disturbingly banal’ today. Martin smiled shyly at Jon, who blushed in response. “Surprise me. Thanks, Jon.”

“Want any razor blades in the apples?”

“You know that’s a myth, Jon,” Martin said disapprovingly. Or maybe not.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“You are the sexiest guy I’ve ever met,” Martin whispered.

Then Jon flushed, and leaned casually in what he probably thought was a hot pose and unfortunately totally was against Martin’s desk, and Tim was subjected to their absolutely fucking atrocious flirting for the next ten minutes. At that point, Tim found his breaking point and left the Archives, the terror of being in semi-public outweighed by the terror of Jonmartin. That was what Basira and Melanie kept calling it. He really didn’t know what that meant, but whatever.

But after fifteen minutes of standing in front of the vending machine himself, quietly overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of choices and colors and flavors and sugar, he heard someone else approaching. He snapped his head to the left to see a gawky, hunched scarecrow slouch down the hall, raising a hand apologetically. That man put no effort into his appearance, how as he still that hot -

Maybe Jon and Martin were normal, Tim secretly wondered, and Tim just didn’t understand gay courting rituals. He had to find out, right? How do you flirt with guys? It wasn’t as if he could practice with the two guys in the office. Especially Martin. Tim had never really paid a lot of attention to him before he came back to life, writing him off as a beta male - which ended up being so hilariously incorrect it forced Tim to sit down and reconsider his entire framework of alpha and beta males. Melanie had given him a sticker.

“Uh. Hey.”

Tim stared at him blankly.

Jon rubbed the back of his neck. “How...are you?”

Tim blinked at him.

“Well. I would, er, enjoy using the vending machine.”

Oh. Obviously. Tim stepped aside, cheeks burning, and silently let Jon punch in the code for a Mars Bar (for Martin, probably) and a granola bar (because an alarm went off on his desk if he didn’t eat a snack at 3pm).

It wasn’t their first time being alone together since he came back, but as Tim had been more or less catatonic at that period in time he was inclined not to count that. Jon hadn’t seemed scared, anyway. Probably. Tim hadn’t paid much attention.

He should do this. He had to do it. It was all about making up for the shit he did, right? He had to face this. Then Jon would forgive him, not that he had to, and - and something vaguely good would happen. He would find that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and the hunger would go away, and the intrusive thoughts would be all gone. Melanie would give him another sticker. Or something.

“You can go for it, you know.”

Jon whipped his head around, shocked at Tim addressing him directly for the first time in a very long time. “What?”

Idiot. If this guy had been in a single fight in his life, he’d eat his hat. From what Jon had seen of his childhood friend, Georgie’s girlfriend who he hated for absolutely no reason, she had probably defended him from every bully. It was almost cute.

“You can get a good one in,” Tim repeated slowly. He turned his cheek. “Promise I won’t punch back or anything.”

“I - do you mean punch you?” The Mars Bar rattled down the machine, dropping heavily into the tray. “Why would I do that?”

Jesus, the guy was thick. “Do you remember when I kidnapped and tried to kill you, or is that just me?”

Jon blinked owlishly at him. “Lots of people try to kill me.”

“Don’t you want to?” Tim cried, a little bit higher and a little bit louder than he intended. “Come on, as if you’ve never wanted to do it? Wouldn’t it help? You got in a week of being a passive aggressive asshole, that isn’t enough. It doesn’t make up for anything. This would.”

“How would that fix anything?”

Tim’s breath hitched. But Jon was just staring, as if he could see right through him. Maybe he could. “What?”

“How would hurting you make me feel better?” Jon repeated slowly. “It won’t change what happened. Punching you wouldn’t change what you did to me. All it would do is make you feel better, as if that fixes it. It doesn’t. Is that how you solve all of your problems? That explains a lot.”

His breath was coming faster, hitching again. He couldn’t control it. “I’m trying to do you a favor, asshole.”

“No, you’re trying to make yourself feel better.” Jon smiled politely and, before Tim could jerk away, clapped him on the shoulder. “I forgave you a long time ago. Not because of you. But I just didn’t want it hanging over me. I gave myself closure and moved on. Sometimes bad things happen to us, and we have to get up the next day and go to work anyway. My friends helped. My family did too. I’m sorry you don’t have that, Tim. You’ll get closure one day.” Jon looked thoughtful for a second. “I mean, getting closure about being almost killed one time must be a lot easier than dealing with the fact that you killed fifteen people in your life? Twice that supernatural people, I think. You know you’re technically a serial killer? I won’t judge, this is a safe space, but I thought you ought to know.”

Somehow, inanely, all Tim could think of to say was, “It’s not serial killing if it’s part of your job.”

“Which is why I’m sure you took that job,” Jon said brightly. “Let’s get back to the office before Martin decides to amuse himself.”

For a second, just for a second - or two, or ten, or a minute - Tim vividly imagined himself ripping Jon’s throat out. Killing him properly this time, putting that look on his face again. It had felt so good, and - and it had made him feel so bad, but that felt good too, and he still didn’t know why, and he wanted to eat Jon so bad. Jon, who was innocent in everything, gentle and kind. Nothing like Tim. That was why everybody liked Jon and hated Tim.

From what he had heard, while Tim was going insane hyperfixating on the chase a few years ago, the girls had spent ages talking Jon down from a breakdown and steering him away from the same path that Tim had barrelled down. Who had done that for him? Sasha made a big show of keeping his head level, but she had used him just as ruthlessly as he had used her. She never had an investment in keeping him sane; just functional.

If somebody had done that for him, would he still be cruel?

They went back to the office, and Tim pretending that the hunger swirling in his gut was just self-hatred. But, then again, they really were the same thing.

When Melanie came out of the library with Basira and Sasha on her heels, talking quietly about some new scheme they were cooking up, Tim found himself reaching out to her. Melanie smiled and squeezed his hand, before gently heckling his choice in literature.

Some stupid part of him - maybe even a large part - thought that once he was clasping Melanie’s hand again, the hunger would quiet down. It had protected him underground, it felt as if it should protect him in the world above.

But it didn’t, and it didn’t solve anything, and Tim tried not to think about the fact that he was slowly unwinding, and that he didn’t want to see what was inside him when everything that was Tim Stoker fell away.

***

A short yet tumultuous time later, Tim was called into Jon’s office.

He hadn’t wanted to come to work. But the alternative of stewing at home - Melanie’s flat - was much worse, and Basira had reported that too many skip days made them all way too sick. Might as well come in. Melanie had spent the night at Georgie’s - like she had the past two days, what a fucking coincidence - so he didn’t have to worry about that awkwardness.

After too long memorizing the face after too many sleepless nights, Tim could imagine it vividly. Soft, uncreased, innocent of how hard the world could be. Tim couldn’t bear it. He had to ruin it. He just couldn’t bear it.

He was the first one in the office, so it was easy to see the poisonous death glare Basira shot him when she walked in. So Melanie had told them - of course she fucking told them, she hadn’t done anything wrong, she wasn’t obliged to lie. Daisy was hot on her heels, and she actually properly snarled at him before Basira pulled her back while somehow giving the full impression that she wanted to do the same thing.

He should probably go hide in the library before Martin came in. He couldn’t decide whether or not this was worse than the shunning. The shunning had driven him absolutely crazy, but at least he hadn’t been legitimately afraid that Martin would stab him and that nobody would stop him.

There was the faint sound of raised voices in the cowpen. Tim knew that they were arguing about him. He already knew what they would decide - wait for Melanie’s verdict. But are you sure she isn’t too close to this? No, she knows the fucker better than anybody else, she would judge if they needed to do anything. What are we going to tell Sasha? The truth, fucking obviously.

Sasha. Tim wanted her to be surprised. He knew she wouldn’t be. That hurt more.

After what felt like an infinite amount of time but he knew was only a few hours, pouring over Sasha’s collection of Vast and Spiral Statements, he heard the library door open. It was Jon, standing at the threshold, and all Tim could think was - oh, man, here we go.

It was a regular walk of shame into Jon’s office, and he couldn’t miss the way everybody’s heads snapped to look at him. Sasha, just as he thought, looked resigned. Melanie was frowning.

Jon’s office was the same as ever, not that Jon went in too frequently. The only strange thing about it was that Jon locked the door behind him. Tim didn’t know what that boded, but it wasn’t good.

Well, might as well take control of the situation. He collapsed on the chair in front of his desk and propped his boots on Jon’s desk, wishing he had a drink to obnoxiously sip. “Is this the part where you threaten me?” He affected a fake baritone, somehow still not even hitting Jon’s register. “ ‘Touch her again and you’ll answer to me’. ‘Stay away from her or you’ll face the consequences’. Come on, I’ve read a thousand creeps the same riot act. Get it over with.”

Jon sat down heavily in his office chair. The office had chipped in to buy him a new one as a birthday gift, much more comfortable than the old one. But he was leaning forward now, arms folded on the desk.

“Would that make you feel better?”

Great, this again. “Yeah, it evokes the emotionally absent father I was raised with,” Tim snarked. “If you aren’t going to say it, what am I in here for?”

He was afraid to know what he was in here for. Melanie had told him that if he did it again, she’d sic Jon on him. And Tim knew what it looked like when Jon was sicced on someone. This wasn’t it.

“Tim,” Jon said seriously, and he was somehow kind about it. “You know what this looks like, right?”

Something ugly and ashamed twisted in Tim’s gut. He fought the urge to sink in his seat. “Yeah.”

“You know why we’re worried now.”

“Yeah, I know.” Tim looked fixedly at the wall, unwilling to meet Jon’s eyes. “I - I’m not going to do it again. I swear. And - and it wasn’t like that. I promise. I’m not - I’m not a creep, okay? Ask Sasha. I’ve never - I’ve killed people, but that’s not nearly as bad as - I’m not going to do it again. It was a mistake.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Tim’s head snapped back to Jon, and before he could think about it he found himself half-rising from the chair. Jon’s cold stare had him sitting back down again, but his heart was thumping a drum in his chest. “Then what do you want?” Tim just barely restrained himself from yelling, knowing that the girls were probably listening at the door anyway. “What can I do to convince you that’d rather chop off my own hand than hurt her?”

“You can give your permission to let me ask you some questions.”

Tim faltered. “What? Just questions?”

“Uh.” Jon waved his hand in a circle in the air, as if that meant anything. “You know. Questions. I haven’t really done it since - since I think I did it to you? But I think I can do it on command now. I don’t like to.” His eyes sharpened, and for a second Tim could have sworn that they glimmered. “But I can’t take a chance. Not on this.”

It was like he was falling again, through that infinite void that was the last taste of freedom he had thought he would ever have. It was like he was suffocating again, a mile of dirt piled on his chest, banging incessantly at the lid of the coffin. Nobody saved him, until she did. He was distantly aware that he was barely holding back hyperventilating, but all Tim could feel was dissociated horror.

“You - you can’t. Jon, I - I won’t do it again, you can’t.”

Jon’s mouth twisted into a frown. “I won’t if you give me a flat no. I don’t like doing it.” That was a lie and they both fucking knew it. “But if you don’t, we can’t trust you again. We’d convince Melanie to let you stay with Martin. We wouldn’t leave you in the same room together. You’re not stable, Tim. It’s obvious. We thought it was harmless - or, at least, the only person you were hurting was yourself - but it’s not anymore. We’re all scared. I don’t want to hurt you just because we’re scared, but Melanie is the only one here who couldn’t really defend herself if you decided to do anything else to her.” He grimaced slightly. “Not that she admits it. She always puts herself between us and any enemy. But we have to pay that back. I know you understand.”

He did.

Hate burned in his stomach. What a hypocrite. Giving all of that big talk about choice and options. He knew that there was no option, not if they were going to rip him apart from the one person who he felt safe with.

The one person who wasn’t safe with him.

Tim deserved this. Even if it had been his worst fear a year ago - well, Tim had experienced much worse than that since then.

When you did shit to other people, you make up for it. You make sure that you can’t hurt anybody else again. Jon was right - gestures didn’t mean anything. He had to commit. He had to improve, be better. Otherwise he’d be sent straight back down to that place when he died, and there would be no saving him.

“Yeah,” Tim said, mouth dry, “you can do it. But - but no personal questions this time, okay? Just stick to the subject.”

“They seem to always end up a bit personal,” Jon said apologetically, “but I’ll try.”

Deep within Jon, inside of the unassuming and kind and gentle man, the subject of Tim’s nightmares rose. His eyes flashed green, then shined with a bright and sickly radioactive green. His hair strained against its bun and fuzzed at the end, but it didn’t break free.

“What’s your name, Tim?”

The worst part about the compelling, Tim had decided long ago, was that you didn’t feel brainwashed.

You felt exactly as if you were talking normally, that there was nothing strange about Jon or you. His words didn’t ring with a mysterious power. If you had entered it thinking you were talking of your own volition, you probably wouldn’t notice. But if you knew what was happening, the curtain was lifted, and you were deathly aware of the way the words were ripped out of you with fishhooks. It left Tim gasping, straining for air.

“Timothy Ji-hoon Stoker,” Tim said, and it was almost as if he wanted to. “My dad just calls me Ji-hoon though. So do my grandparents. My last name’s made up as fuck - I think Mom just saw a book at the airport and picked it out from the cover. Kind of ironic, considering everything.”

“Oh, really? Daisy says that she got Tonner because her English wasn’t great and she misheard someone at the airport asking her for a tenner - right, right.” Jon coughed. Wait, was the reason why Daisy barely talked when he first met her was because her English was bad? “On topic. Tim, do you want to attack Melanie again?”

“Of course not,” Tim burst out, and these words, at least, came easy. “I love her. I hate hurting her, I hate how I’m constantly fucking up and doing it anyway. I’m just violent and I don’t know how not to be violent. It’s the only way I deal with things, being violent, and I know it’s eating me up inside but I just can’t stop it. But if there’s one person who can help me stop, it’s Melanie. She’s going to fix me, I know it.”

The words were unbelievably humiliating, the kind of thing that Tim had never wanted to admit, but Jon’s expression didn’t change. Tim wanted to look away, to pretend that this was just an internal narration and that he wasn’t telling this his fucking coworker, but he found himself incapable. Their gazes locked, and Tim couldn’t pull away.

“Why did you do it?”

“Because I was scared, and I hate being scared so much. It’s what I always do, ever since I was a kid - I would get scared, and I would try to hurt something or someone about it. I did it to you, I was so scared of you that I obsessed about killing you and covered it up with some bullshit about justice or Sasha. It was just about me, it’s always been selfish. But - but- but -” The words were sticking in his throat, coagulating on the wound ripped open by Jon and his fishhooks. “But I hate her. I hate that I care, and I hate that I need her, and - and I don’t think I did it just because I was scared. I think I did it because I was scared, and I love her, and I hate her, and I’m beginning to think I have some kind of weird complex about women because of my mother’s overly dependent narcissistic personality and my father’s emotional detachment -”

“You just now figured that out?” Jon asked incredulously. “Sorry, you just now started realizing that your toxic masculinity controls your entire justification for your actions?”

“I’ve known for a while but I’ve been repressing it,” Tim said hurriedly, forced to answer that one despite Jon probably intending it as a rhetorical question.

Jon stared at him for a second silently, giving Tim time to catch his breath and try to control his breathing. He was one bad step away from a panic attack, and his hold was still clenched on this throat like a fist. Danny had done that to him one time, the son of a bitch, and he had never forgotten. Should he tell Jon that? Does he have to?

“Tim,” Jon said finally. He looked very uncomfortable, but also resolute. As if he didn’t want to ask, or maybe he just didn’t want to know, but he felt as if he had to. “Are you in love with Melanie?”

Tim opened his mouth to answer him, and found that he couldn’t.

The strange and evil magic didn’t like that. Whatever Tim wanted to say, if there was anything to say, it caught in his throat and made him gag. It choked him. He was well acquainted with the feeling, but it sent him into a panic anyway. His breath started shuddering and heaving, his vision swimming, and he kept on answering his mouth to answer because you have to answer but he couldn’t, he just couldn’t, he didn’t know how -

“Forget it! Forget it, Tim, don’t worry about it! Tim, what’s your favorite color? Tim, your favorite color! Answer me!”

“Grey!” Tim cried out. “Grey, it’s grey!”

He didn’t so much stand up from his chair as fall out of it. He didn’t so much let himself sit on the ground as found himself incapable of moving. He just breathed, waiting and waiting to spit up dirt and grime and rocks, but nothing happened. It was just a panic attack, because his hell was within him, and there was no escape.

No escape. There was no escape. Not from what he’d done in his past, not from how badly he’d hurt Melanie and Sasha, not from how he would inevitably hurt them in the future.

You had to cut out the evil things in this world. One bad apple spoils the bunch. When criminals are left to run wild, they corrupt and destroy society. Evil had to be eliminated. Evil people shouldn’t exist.

Evil people shouldn’t exist. It wasn’t a new thought for him. Neither was the thought after that. It was a thought he’d had for a very long time - before he even met Melanie, before he even admitted it.

“Tim, are you alright? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

After a few heart-wrenching seconds, Tim found himself calming down enough to answer. “You meant to. You just didn’t want to. I made you do this.” One bad apple spoils the bunch. “Is - is that enough? I can answer more -”

“No, that’s enough,” Jon said quickly. “It’s - it’s not my place to pass judgement on you, Tim. And your, uh, disturbed thinking. Melanie - anyway, we’ll work on it.” He smiled weakly, placatingly. “I’ve been there. The others helped. If it wasn’t for them, I’d be - I don’t know where I’d be, but I’d be a lot worse off. We can help you too. If you let us. I know it’s scary, but it’s worth it. I promise.”

“Right,” Tim said. “Can I go now?”

When he left Jon’s office, everybody was at their desks. He knew what the guilty expressions when they all pretended they hadn’t been eavesdropping, but they weren’t wearing them now. Maybe everybody had grown up a bit recently.

Tim slunk into the library, and for good measure locked it behind him. He pulled out a thick stack of books, a teetering pile of Statements. He needed to research. There was a decision he had to make, and he needed as much proof as possible and a well-laid plan. It wasn’t quite a hunt, but it was close. It wasn’t quite the apocalypse, but it was his own.

But, of course, it was a lie. Tim had made his decision a few minutes ago. He had made it a long time ago. He kept making it, every time. Everything else was just justification.

It wouldn’t fix anything - but it’d make him feel better.

#my writing #the magnus archives #tma #tma fanfic #hunt!tim #timothy stoker #melanie king #sasha james #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #this one's a roughie try not to read it if you're in a bad place right now #danny stoker #also keep in mind that tim absolutely one of the most unreliable narrators ive ever written if not the most #it was incredibly fun #anyway enjoy

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Framed.”

Hey guys, I start my new job today, so my posting schedule is going to be erratic and sort of weird, but I will try to get a story out every weekday, so I hope you like it, and have a great week :)

They met back at the station, or the Tesraki version of a police station anyway. The building they walked into was massive, rising many stories. Robots and Tesraki of all shapes and sizes moved about with the light chatter of conversation. Of course, their presence drew eyes, though no one actually paused in their work to stare. WIth the Tesraki homeworld being one giant city, there was always something to do and no time to do it.

Adam had been patched and cleaned up, his wounds stitched back together. He had even retrieved his jacket, which was significantly more battery than it was before, requiring more stitches then he had to pull back together. He had done the sewing himself and admitted that his mother would probably have had a heart attack upon seeing his work, but then again time was limited as were his resources.

The shaking had stopped many hours ago, leaving him calm and collected as they were lead through the station and back towards the elevator. The investigator they had met at the first crime scene met them on the fiftieth floor.

“Have you talked to them?” Adam asked, stepping from the elevator and out into the hallway followed by Sunny and and krill.

“Only preliminary questions. We were waiting for your investigator to step in before we started…. Our understanding of humans is limited.”

Adam pulled off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, “probably a good idea.”

“So you think that these two attacks are related?” The Tesraki wondered as he lead the group of them down the hallway.

Adam nodded sharply, “I do.”

The Tesraki turned to look at him, ears flattening back against his head, “Are you alright Admiral. I heard that you fought off all three of them before….”

“I am alright, how about them?”

“Two of them are fine, but the third is still receiving medical care. You broke his sternum, and it is going to take some work before he recovers.”

Adam shuffled his hands inside his pockets nervously, “Whoopse.”

“You saved a life, and, in my opinion, that is all that matters. Investigators have taken statements and matched them up against your story, and everything seems to check out, so you should have no problem legally, though I would stick around for a while just in case something else comes up.”

Admiral Vir nodded, “Anything you need, Detective.”

They had just come around the corner, when a commotion from the other side of the room stopped them in their tracks. Adam turned on the spot surprised to find a group of people heading towards them at a furious pace.

At the front of the group, the detective they called in was marching, dark brown coat billowing out behind him in great whipping streams of air. The look on his face was focused and thunderous, his cold grey eyes turned on Admiral Vir and the others with dark intent.

The group of them slowed in confusion as the human and the small army of Drev and Tesraki officers followed with.

“Admiral Vir.” The Detective said, his voice booming around the room. Where their original entrance had not garnered more than a couple of glances from the assembled officers, this deep booming voice sure did grab their attention.

“Detective, wha-”

“You are under arrest!”

Adam stepped back in shock, his hands raised before his chest.

A gasp rose up around the room as everything came grinding to a stuttering halt.

“Under arrest! On what charges!” The man reached down to his side withdrawing his holstered weapon. Admiral Vir raised his hands slowly, “What is going on here.” he demanded.”

Sunny went to step in front of him, her spear raised, but he barked an order that made her stop in her tracks.

She turned to look at him and he shook his head.

The Detective walked forward glowering at Sunny, “You would do best to listen to your boss. As of yet there is no evidence liking you two to the crimes.”

He grabbed Adam by the front of his jacket and spun him around, gripping a handful of his collar as he walked him over to the side of the room, pinning him against the wall, hands still over his head. WIth a kick of his foot he widened the Admiral’s stance and began going through his pockets.

Behind them, sunny marched forward, ‘What are you talking about! Let him go! What crimes!”

“The murder of the Tesraki.”

“What!”

Andam was shoved harder against the wall as the man ran a hand over the front of his jacket and down either side.

He stopped as his right hip, reaching into his coat and confiscating his sidearm, which he handed to one of the Tesraki.

“I would never. I was off-world when that Tesraki died!”

“Don’t try to play dumb Admrial. Last night in the alley, you Killed a Tesraki and nearly murdered three other people.”

Adam spluttered in shock and confusion, “Murdered! I saved that Tesraki’s life. He was in the ambulance when I-”

A sharp Jab to his ribs cut him off as the man ran a hand down either side of his legs, reaching a hand into his front and back pockets trying to find anything, “Your fingerprints were on the knife that killed the Tesraki.”

Adam shook his head in shock and confusion, “I would never kill anyone! What are you on about.”

Behind him, Sunny angrily marched forward, “Do you have any idea who he is! He’s admiral Vir, representative of the GA. So get your hands off him little man.”

She hadn’t made it more than a few steps before two big, beafy Drev stepped in front of her, both of them at least nine feet tall if not more.

She paused in her tracks as the detective grabbed the Admiral’s wrists and forced them behind his back securing them with energy cuffs.

Admiral Vir grunted, “What the fuck! I saved that Tesraki’s life. He was alive, and those three men were trying to kill him.”

“Can you prove that?”

“I…. yes! The Tesraki was fucking ALIVE when he left in the ambulance.”

“That's interesting, because I have images right here than seem to think differently.”

Adam was turned around and allowed to stand back to the wall as the Detective pulled a set of photographs from his his jacket and threw them on the floor at the Admiral’s feet.

Adam stared down in wide eyed shock as the pictures he found there.

Bodies lying on the ground in carnage. Three humans and one Tesraki with a Knife sticking straight into its eye.

“YOu have to be pretty sick and angry to do something like that.” The detective snarled

“But I DIDN’T He was ALIVE I…. I saved…. I saved his life. I Don’t…. I don’t understand.”

“You have a history of xenophobic behavior Admrail, so It doesn’t surprise me.”

Krill, Sunny AND admiral vir sputtered loudly at that.

Krill shook his head, “Are you fucking insane. Admiral Vir BEGGED me to come onto his ship, how the fuck is that xenophobic.”

Admiral Vir locked eyes with Sunny who was so speechless all she could do was open and close her mouth. If anyone here knew how untrue that statement was it was her.

“Look, you play a good came admiral, but I have looked over your history carefully. Your involvement in the Drev war, and your constant return to the Drev planet after that. Then of course there was the entire fiasco with the starborn, and how you are the reason humans have to wear spit shields when detained. Your tiff with Noctus, and your systematic destruction of the Gnar’lak. All of that is hardly evidence of a man who supports human alien interaction. The bran STILL don’t trust the human race because of you.”

“The hell are you talking about!” Sunny shouted, “He’s the reason the GA even ALLOWED HUMANS IN. Just call the chairwoman, she will tell you.”

Krill shook his head, “You don’t even have to call her, there were at least thirty witnesses that saw the Tesraki leave alive.”

Adam, Krill and Sunny turned to look over at the Tesraki director, who was standing just off to the side looking down at his feet, “I am sorry Admiral, but they are right, the evidence doesn’t look good.”

More gasps.

Admiral Vir shook his head, “What are you saying! You know what happened, your men saw…”

He was cut short as the Detective prodded him in the back, “If you can provide evidence of your innocence, we will consider it, but right now i have at least 30 eye witness testimonies, a knife with your fingerprints on it and two dead Tesraki.”

“I WOULD NEVER KILL ANYONE.” He snarled completely flabbergasted at the accusations.

“Save it.” The man snarled, shoving him forward across the floor.

Adam turned back to look at sunny, who still stood dumbstruck blocked by a group of four Drev as he was dragged away. Krill was loudly proclaiming his innocence and protesting the charges as he was led back across the floor and down another group of steps.

Adam’s head spun as Sunny’s and Krill’s voices were drown out behind him.

Xenophobia…. Murder?

He had never done either of those things in his life, it was completely ludicrous. He was dating Sunny for crying out loud, how could it even be possible.

Then again no one knew he was dating Sunny, and if you looked back at his career there were plenty of things that could be taken in the wrong connotation. He thought there were plenty of more things that were irrefutable, but that didn’t seem to matter to the detective, who had already made his assumptions.

Was he part of some elaborate plot, or was he being used by someone else and fed false information. The Tesraki he had worked with on the first case seemed sure of the accusations as well, though there had been no evidence of these thoughts before today.

His boots thudded on the floor as they reached the bottom of the steps, and the Drev that held him ordered the steel door ahead to be opened. A very nervous looking tesraki pressed a button on the forward console and the interior door hissed open. He was brought into a small room, nd the door that closed behind him caused another door to open up in front of them.

The room they walked into glowed blue and purple from the energy fields on either wall where separate energy cells housed the inmates of the Tesraki jail. Most of the inmates were Tesraki, but there was at least one human curled up on their side in the corner. The way she was dressed, and how heavily she was sleeping suggested she had had an interesting night out on the town and had been pulled in for a drunken disorderly.

One of the field walls was temporarily shut off, and he was shoved into the small cramped room where he sat down on the metal bench and stared at the energy field as it was pulled back up. Outside the Detective sat watching him, looking eye to eye with each other, Adam could see what seemed like real disappointment on the man’s face.

“It’s a real shame, Admiral. I really believed you were a better man than this.”

He stood up almost placing his hands to the barrier before stepping back, “I AM a better man than this, please just listen. I’m being framed.

“I wish I could believe that.”

“You CAN believe that, I swear. I run a ship full of aliens if the GA wasn’t here I wouldn’t have my job. You can ask my family anyone, I would do anything for the GA, I-”

The man just shook his head and turned away leaving Adam to stare after him in complete disbelief as he did.

***

Sunny was irate. Not just irate but incoherent in her complete and utter rage. The only thing holding her back was the realization that attacking these people would get hr locked away where she would be unable to help Adam.

She couldn’t believe the allegations.

Xenophobic, xhenophobic.

She knew first had how NOT xhenophobic he was.

…. Like very much

… not even a little bit

… either that or he was good at faking it, but Adam was the worst lier she had ever met, he couldn’t fake his way out of a paper bag.

Beside her krill was arguing with one of the other officers, someone he said he recognized from last night,

“Instead of being angry like her, the little creature was pointing out all the inconsistencies she was too angry to see. Like how he hadn’t been arrested on the spot, or what those other three humans were doing there, or how Krill and Sunny had SEEN the Tesraki drive away in the emergency vehicle.

They KNEW for a fact that Adam was innocent.

Sunny was more than positive. Adam was the biggest marshmallow in the universe. It had taken months to convince him to actually fight here in the dueling ring, and try to hit her considering he was mortified of the idea of hurting her, or any number of examples off the top of her head.

There was only one conclusion to make.

And despite not being a genius like krill, she knew the answer immediately.

He was being framed.

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ellana-ravenwood · 4 years

Text

An AU in which Bruce Wayne raises Damian since birth - Ficlets

I wrote a small post about this not long ago (click here to take a look at it), and it made me wanna write more about this alternate universe...So here we are. It’s not a very original AU, but eh, there’s a reason people wanna write about it because damn <3. This is more like, a collection of little scenes and moments than a real story, but ya know. I just wanted to expand. I hope you will like it :

PART 2

My master list : @ella-ravenwood-archives

_________________________________________________

******

The Beginning.

Bruce was most certainly not ready to have a child.

He wasn’t even sure he ever wanted one, given the path he decided to follow.

But the decision was taken out of his hand the day Talia decided to do what she did.

Bruce was most certainly not ready to have a child.

But he would never leave a kid in the hands of the Al’Ghuls. The gods only knew what they would do to him. What they could turn him into !

What if the kid grew up, and came to Gotham to defy his father ? Would Bruce be ready to fight his own child ?

If he had to, he told himself.

And maybe that’s what would’ve happened if he never heard of it. If he never knew...

But he knew. He knew that what Talia mentioned to him once, she actually did.

And there was no way he would ever let that boy be raised by the Al’Ghuls, now that he knew he existed. Wether he was ready to have a child or not.

Never, never, armed with the knowledge she did go ahead and made that baby, would he not do anything. It wasn’t like him, to leave untied knots. Or to leave someone he knew was in need...

There was no way that boy would have a good childhood, with the Al Ghuls. Particularly with Ras’ around. Not that Bruce was sure the child could have a good life with him...But between the pest and cholera ?

It if was only Talia. If it was just her love. If she hadn’t told him why she wanted a child with him...Maybe he would’ve left the boy behind.

But his informant was adamant. The talks going on amongst the League were all the same.

Ras Al’Ghul’s heir was brought to this world only for one purpose.

And maybe what Talia felt for Bruce was genuine love. Maybe what he felt for her at the time was too. But she told him the real reason why she chose him, and why she wanted his child.

“He’ll be a new Alexander.”

She said...And although Bruce was most definitely not ready to have a kid, he would never let that happen. He would never let his own child grow up in such an environment.

Maybe if he never knew...Maybe if he never knew things would’ve been completely different. Maybe it’d avoid him a lot of trouble, too.

But he knew. And he wasn’t about to let that kid...His kid, suffer a childhood he knew was not going to be happy. After all, Talia told him what Ras used to force her to do when she was younger...

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

Sneaking into the Shadow League’s headquarter was ridiculously easy. Which made him suspicious. Maybe they were expecting him ?

Oh but they couldn’t...They couldn’t know he knew. They couldn’t know he left behind a friend, the only one he made in the league of assassin. A fellow apprentice. A friend who spied on the Al Ghuls unbeknownst to them (or he would be dead since a long time).

Bruce silently entered what he knew to be the baby’s room, and looked around. He was right, his informant was right. The crib was in the middle of the richly decorated room. Bruce, with light steps, walked towards it.

And...

It was like being faced with a portrait of himself at that age. Except the boy’s skin was darker, his eyes shaped more like almonds, and Bruce could guess that if he just opened said eyes...they would be olive green like his mother’s.

And he was right.

The soft rustling sound Bruce made as he bended over the crib to pick the little one up woke him. And he opened his eyes wide immediately.

He did not cry, instead, he looked up at this stranger that was picking him up with curiosity, and Bruce felt his heart...Do something.

He couldn’t quite describe it, the feeling. His heart skipped multiple beats, while going faster at the same time. And he wanted to smile.

It was an urge too hard to resist, something he couldn’t control while he learned to control his own emotions, and he smiled at the little one in his arms, taking a gloved fingers to his cheek to caress it lightly, as if it was natural.

The baby...he...he...

He smiled in return. A cute, unsure and untrained smile, as if it was his-

“That is his first smile.”

Talia. She was there, at the entrance of the room, casually walking in in as if nothing was happening.

“Hello, detective.”

She took Bruce by surprise, and he turned around quickly, taking a fighting stance while holding his son against his chest protectively. His hands naturally held him, one supporting his back, the other his head, even as his legs spread apart, ready to fight.

Bruce had fought only with lower body before. He trained to be able to do so. He knew he could have a chance against Talia. That he had no chance of taking her down, but could at least escape her. Fight if need be. But he’d rather avoid it...Not in front of their child.

Wasn’t Bruce here to take the boy away from violence and pain ? He couldn’t fight his own mother in front of him, even if of course, the baby would most likely not remember.

Maybe he was an unwanted child on Bruce’s end, and one Talia created only for a specific purpose...but he was still a child.

His child.

“I will not let you raise him, Talia. And if you want to stop me I will have to-”

“I don’t.”

There was something odd, in Talia’s eyes, that Bruce had a hard time to discern in the dark room, only lit by the moon.

Was it...Sadness ? Regrets, perhaps ?

“His name is Damian. From the Greek word Damianos, which means “to tame.” He is upposed to be the tamer of the World. At least, that’s what my father wants.”

“I won’t let you-”

“Redundant, detective. Even more so since I told you I will not stop you. I think the fact I let your little friend, the one who told you about Damian’s existence, live, should be proof enough. I let him go, if you’re wondering where he is. I told him to disappear, and if he’s smart enough, he will. I knew since the beginning, he was your friend. Even as he acted like he tried to kill you during your escape. I knew because I know you. I watched you close enough...”

There was a small silence, during which neither of them moved. Damian, still in his father’s arms, cooed happily as he was trying to grab at the Batman’s armor.

Finally, Bruce spoke :

“...Why ?”

Another silence. Talia did not look at Bruce, but at the tiny being slowly moving in his arms. After what seemed an eternity, punctuated by Damian’s little happy and unaware sounds, she said :

“Because I do not wish for him to become me. Or my father.”

“But, that is why you created him ?”

“That is why I-...When it happened, I imagined you would be around, detective.”

“You couldn’t seriously think I would stay after knowing what you and your father were up to ? You know me better than that, no ?”

“I do. I guess it was all wishful thinking.”

Another silence. Heavy.

“When you left I was angry. And lonely. So...I made him. Our plan was to raise him to become even better than us, and then send him to you. Because if he destroyed you, then he could destroy everything - bitter laugh - I say “our”, but I truly mean my father’s plan. Twisted and nonsensical, I see it now.”

Bruce felt uneasy, and nostalgic. The boy was getting used to being held by this odd man, and now was sucking at his foot thoughtfully (as thoughtfully as a 3 months old baby can).

“I did love you, Detective. And I would’ve gladly govern the world with you, and our son. But you leaving, you telling me all those things...It made me realize. I have never truly been loved before. This is why I was so angry when you left. No one, no one loved me before you. My father...I serve a purpose to him. When I was with you, I felt love, and loved. But before...Before I was just another instrument in my father’s grand schemes of things. Has he ever loved my mother ? He said he did. Maybe he did. But he did not keep her with him. And I became what I am today. Now, I am no fool, detective. I unfortunately know I cannot change. But Damian...Damian has a chance, with you.”

Bruce didn’t know what to say. His heart and throat felt tight, and his hold on the boy became stronger and surer.

“Please, let me say goodbye ?”

Of course, Bruce agreed.

He watched Talia slowly walking to him, and looking at the boy.

Her boy.

The boy she knew she had to let go, because she loved him enough to want him to not become her. Or his grandfather.

Talia never loved anyone before. Except for her “detective”, and for her son...

“One day, my heart. One day, I hope we can meet again. Goodbye, Damian.”

She told the little one, and the baby looked at her, smiling widely as he recognized the voice of his mother. She laid a kiss on his forehead, took a last glance at him, and left the room without turning back.

Bruce left the headquarter with his crying son in his arm, sure now, that if it had been that easy to get into it...it was because Talia herself, lowered the security.

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

Damian Wayne, son of Batman. Occupation : Baby.

Bruce was right. He was NOT ready to be a father. He never even held a baby, in his short twenty three years of life ! Why would he anyway ?!

Thanks god for a certain man called Alfred Pennyworth.

The butler, whom Bruce considered a second father know, slowly showed him the ropes and tricks to take care of a baby, trying to involve his young master in everything as much as he could because...What was the point in saving that little boy from a world of pain and violence, if it was to not take care of him ?

And so there were times Alfred told him to take care of things on his own. Which Bruce wasn’t sure he liked, so far...

But he was trying. He was really trying.

The arrival of Damian in his life put so many plans he had in shamble, but Bruce learned how to adapt fast.

Of course, the news of Bruce Wayne having a “secret son” spread like a wild fire all across Gotham. And he knew there was no hiding such a thing. What was the point of hiding the boy anyway, he couldn’t raise him and keep him shut in the Manor all his life !!

The public was quick to believe the story he told. Of course, no one had trouble to picture playboy Bruce Wayne who was known to sleep around, having a “secret” son. In fact, many talked about bets going all around the city as to when a scandal of the sort would happen.

Bruce had been back home for about a year, and in that short year, he made sure to assure his “Brucie Wayne” persona, that he knew would help him keep Batman a secret.

He most definitely did not expect Damian, but was quick to find a plan. His explanation about him satisfied everyone. A story about how Damian’s mother could not take care of him, and he wanted to take his responsibilities...

Which technically wasn’t a lie.

The story stayed at the front of every newspapers for a long time, and Bruce decided to play on it and, although he felt a little ashamed, use his son for a publicity stunt, and therefor have even more cover for his Batman activity.

He was often shown in public, with a baby carrier, or exiting an important meeting early to go see his boy. Which he did. And he couldn’t help but have a feeling that this little boy, his little boy...sort of saved him.

Bruce felt that without Damian, he would’ve jump heart and soul into this Batman thing. And he did, he promised his parents he would...So of course, he did. But there was always this little piece of reality holding him back.

His little boy cooing at him, and smiling at him, and laughing and having this second chance at life. Which gave him, too, a second chance at life.

Of course, Bruce could not forget the years of pain he dragged behind, the trauma of losing his parents. But he felt that Damian, and his presence so early on in his life ? Most definitely changed him.

For the better.

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

The first dirty diaper.

“Alfred ? ALFRED ? Alllllfreeeeeeeeeed ?!”

Bruce screamed, while running around the manor, panicked, holding baby Damian against him. The boy was giggling happily, liking how his father’s running steps made him rock as he held him against his chest, a terrible smell following them around…

Bruce took a break from work today, giving his favorite excuse : “He had to take care of his son.”, but of course, babies being babies...Bruce really thought his boy was focusing on the pictures he was showing him, certain his son was a genius, up until the odor coming from the kid’s diaper informed him that no; Damian was not focusing on the pictures his father was showing him.

When Bruce entered the kitchen, in which Alfred was preparing dinner, the foul smell told the butler instantly what the problem was. Turning around to face Bruce, he says, with his infamous English phlegm :

“I think it’s time for you to learn how to change a diaper, Master Bruce. I have done it for the first few weeks, because you had very few sleep, but you cannot escape this anymore. Come on, master Bruce, I will show you.”

Bruce’s face fell, and Alfred gave him a rather sneaky smile. Well. It really was time his master learned how to change a diaper. After all, Bruce did say he would take care of this child so he could have a good life...

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

The hair incident.

The first time Bruce tried to put clothes on his son all alone, without the help of Alfred, it ended in a disaster.

The fearless Batman was most definitely not prepared for how squirmy babies really are. He had been fighting for a good ten minutes with his son’s legs before he started to mutter :

“I’d rather be fighting every single goons in Gotham right now, ah Damian please just -Damian kicked one of his leg up while the other one went down- no wait -The boy did the same thing, but changing leg this time- just stay still a second -this time, he put both his legs up, trying to grab one of his foot to put it in his mouth - oh my god..”

As soon as he was able to slide one of the baby’s leg into his pants, and trying to put the other on...Damian would squirm his little legs around and undo everything. Cooing at his father continuously, as if talking to him. Taunting him that he was doing it wrong !

He decided to try another approach, and moved on the side of the kid, holding his legs down and bending above him to try to block the boy’s legs long enough, without hurting him, to...Oh, but he bended forward a little too much and...The kid got a hand on his hair.

Unhappy of the sudden restraint, Damian let a loud “HA !” out, but before starting to cry got distracted by his father’s head being close and...Right there, in reach. What were those funny wiggly thing on his head ?

“ALFREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

The butler rushed in, afraid something bad happened to the baby...Only to find his young master Bruce, his body bend in an awkward position as he tried as gently as possible to untie his son’s hands from his hair...not succeeding very much.

After this, Bruce started to wear his hair shorter, and neatly brushed back, and left behind any stylish haircut he thought would be good for his public persona.

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

Damian Wayne, Son of Batman AND little brother to Robin. Occupation : Baby AND little brother.

Damian was home with Alfred, when Bruce first met Dick. (IMPORTANT AUTHOR’S NOTE : I took an age “canon” diverging from my personal preference so it would fit the story. I usually like the pre-crisis version the best, where Dick is 8 years old when Bruce takes him as his ward, because it calls back to Bruce’s own age when he lost his parents...But for the sake of this story, and to fit closer the “actual” ages of the boys even if it won’t be perfect (then again AU), I’ll go with post-crisis “official” age which is around 12 years old. Not 15 though, like in the New 52, that’s too old...anyway it seems like Rebirth went back to around 9/10 when Bruce takes him in but yeah, ya know...12, so it fits better. But my personal preference is little baby 8 years old Dick coming in. Haha thought it was worthy of mentioning, and also anticipating any age question :), more explanation about ages in my AN at the end of this fic).

It was about three months in since Bruce brought Damian back with him, it seemed like...A good idea ? To adopt a twelve years old child who just went through the same trauma he did, while being a 23 years old still struggling to know how to be a father.

But a twelve years old would be easier to handle than a baby, right ?

Wrong.

Dick had some hard days, at the beginning, in Wayne Manor. The media had put in his head that he was a publicity stunt, that Bruce didn’t really care, and he would suddenly lash out at times, the pain too grand.

Bruce understood more than anyone else.

He too, lashed out at Alfred a lot when he was younger. It is normal, when you’re so young and already felt so much pain...

Oddly enough, it’s Damian, that ended up calming Dick.

The baby, now about six months old, was starting to crawl all around, and took a grand interest in that newcomer.

Dick would try to isolate himself somewhere at times, playing his game boy in a corner of the main living room...Only for a little six months old to laboriously crawl to him and try to climb on him.

Thanks to Damian’s presence, Dick opened up surprisingly fast. Bruce suspected the boy’s personality was already quite cheery, but he also clearly had a little dark side to him...However, only because the media were spreading lies about Bruce. And his reasons to take the boy in.

As Dick saw how Bruce took care of his baby son, he slowly opened up and trusted that the man truly wanted to give him a home.

Of course, Bruce would never replace his parents...But he still could be his new dad. The two weren’t inclusive. Dick would never forget his beloved parents, but was lucky to still have people who loved him around.

And that baby ? He was clearly very much set on bonding with him anyway. Wherever Dick seemed to go, the little cooing noises Damian did and the sound of him crawling on the floor would follow.

And it warmed Dick’s heart. He’d let the baby fall asleep in his arms, or come and sit next to him, watching what he was doing with great curiosity.

Damian even took the bad habit of crying, just so that Dick would come and take care of him (he also did that to his father and Alfred, to be fair). And it worked every time. As soon as Damian would make a sound, Dick would be here.

The rare times Bruce scolded Dick for something bad he did, Damian would become mad and scream at his father. In fact, his very first words, right after his first birthday, was “no dada”, as he scolded his father for telling Dick he needed to focus more in school.

The little twelve months old would hug his older brother tight against his heart, and tell his father off.

“No dada no !”

Sometimes, it would make Bruce laugh. Sometimes, it would infuriate him...How dare, his authority, undermined by a one year old ! Then again, he never really minded. All he ever wanted, was for his sons to be happy.

And to be fair, ever since Dick truly decided to settle for this new life, he rarely made mistakes worthy of scolding. Dick was a really sweet boy. And Bruce didn’t believe in being angry at his children anyway, he understood very fast that this was doing the opposite of what he wished it’d do.

It didn’t take long enough to Bruce to realize that giving love to his children meant receiving it back. Being angry with them without explaining anything meant frustration on all side. So of course, he wouldn’t let them do bad things. But Bruce found that they’d actually rarely act out, when he was trying to be understanding and make them see what they did wrong...

Bonding with Damian, and becoming real brothers. Becoming very close, is what gave Dick a new hope. Of course, Bruce’s unconditional love and care did too, but the first thing that made him open up, the first thing that made him want to have a new family...It was this little baby, who decided himself that he was his big brother now.

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

The Solid Food incident.

Damian was starting to eat solid food.

Well. Solid food. More like mushed food, but still a step forward from the formula milk and baby bottle.

But right now, Damian was having a fit.

He absolutely refused to eat his mushed pees and chicken that Alfred made in the “baby cook”. And it was getting late. Bruce was about to leave for the Batcave, and it was getting close to Damian’s bed time.

But the boy wasn’t having it. Any of the techniques Bruce used failed, including the infamous “the airplane is coming”.

“I don’t think he likes it, B.”

Dick said, smiling a little too widely as he looked at Bruce struggling with his boy. Which gave a sudden idea to the man. His last idea, really.

What monkey sees, monkey does, right ?

“Look Damian, look here. Daddy loooooves the food, see.”

And he gulped down the spoon of mushed food. And oh god, it was probably the most disgusting thing Bruce ever ate in his life. What was this ? Why would anyone expect someone to eat this monstrosity ?! Was this really baby food ?

The face Bruce made didn’t fool Dick, nor did it Damian. The little toddler gave a look to his father that clearly meant, “see ?!”, and Dick bursted out laughing and almost choked on his own dinner.

That night, Bruce relented and just gave Damian his favorite food : apple sauce. As much as he wanted. Telling both his boys to “not tell Alfred about this”.

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

The day Superman changed his opinion on Batman... But he didn’t know it was Batman.

At the time, Clark still had a rather poor opinion of Bruce Wayne, whom he didn’t know yet was Batman.

And it was totally not because he shortly dated Lois Lane ! Nope, not at all ! He just couldn’t stand Bruce’s guts and smug face.

But he had to admit his actions were praiseworthy. In fact, today, he came from Metropolis to this godforsaken city that Gotham was, for an interview about a recent charity Bruce started. A charity that did some good all across the USA, and was worthy of reporting in the Daily Planet.

The journalist was ready to act fake and smile a lot, while really wanting to punch the billionaire in the face. He really didn't like how this Bruce Wayne acted always so sure of himself and...grr...If only he knew he was Superman ! He wouldn’t act the same, for sure.

So it’s with a huge surprise, that he came into the man’s office, and surprised him as he was playing with his young son.

Right there, on the floor, he saw THE Bruce Wayne, a grown ass man, acting absolutely silly to make his baby laugh.

The little boy was giggling loudly as his father was making funny faces at him, and Bruce wasn’t noticing the newcomers at all, as he kept going, too enthralled in the moment, too focused on playing with his boy. After all, he had a rather busy week and barely any time to spend quality time with his children, lately, so this was the perfect occasion for him...

If only he didn’t forget about Clark Kent’s interview.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Wayne, I thought you weren’t busy !”

Bruce jumps a little, out of surprise, and turns around, his face livid as he realizes what just happened. He stands up straight quickly, and turns toward Clark and his secretary.

But the little boy on the floor whines a little and make grabby hands at him, giving him the most adorable puppy eyes Clark ever saw. The man relent, and picks his son up, turning to Clark and the secretary again.

She is visibly very embarrassed, but “Mr. Wayne” just smiles charmingly at her (why was this guy so cool ?!) and says :

“No worries Charlotte. Mistakes happen. You can go back to your office. And apologies, Mr. Kent, I did not know you were already here. Clearly.”

In a few seconds, Bruce had turned around an embarrassing situation for him and was acting all smug and arrogant again. But this time, Clark felt that there were much more to Bruce Wayne that the public image he was showing.

Flashforward to a few years later, Clark finally discovers Batman is Bruce Wayne, and he is utterly SHOOK.

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

The Family Portrait debacle.

One day, about a year after bringing Damian back, Bruce decided to have a family portrait made. Of both his sons.

He bought very fancy and cute clothes for his boys, and tried as best as he could to make Dick and Damian presentable.

Dick’s hair were unruly and there was always a little cow lick that refused to go in rank with the other hair, but it was still fine.

Damian was really unhappy to have his first haircut ever, and it had been a nightmare to try and get him into his fancy clothes.

It wasn't helping, that Dick was clearly agreeing, and talking about how itchy the clothes were. But Bruce seemed excited about this, and so he did it.

But Damian ? Oh the little boy still didn’t understand this sort of things, and as everyone already could figure out, he seemed very independent and hated to do things he didn’t wanna do.

And so, even for the Batman himself, getting his one year old son to stay still for a family picture was no easy task. Dick almost dropped his little brother many times, and they decided to sit the boys on the floor instead of a high armchair like their original ideas.

Damian wouldn’t stop squirming, and the picture ended up being a rather hilarious image on which it was very obvious Dick was struggling to keep his brother in place, and Damian was half-crying half-mad.

Later in the day however, both in cute little pajamas, the two boys fell asleep together as Dick, as he took the habit of doing, read his little brother a bed time stories and fell asleep while doing so.

Those two pictures, the “ugly” yet very funny one, and the absolutely cutest one, have a prized place on the “Wayne family” picture wall.

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

The day Dick joined the Teen Titans.

Bruce encouraged him to do so, if he truly wanted to.

Dick was sixteen now, and Bruce could see he was looking for more meaning, for more than just being his shadow.

Bruce could see the boy he came to see as his own son, as much as he saw Damian as his, needed to find more sense to it all. Needed to help more than just Gotham and its people, at least for now.

Joining and creating his own team ? With friends that had similar backgrounds to him, that felt out of place too ? Figuring things out on his own for a while ? The Batman was convinced it could only do him good.

Now many would’ve called him a bad father for letting his 16 years old son go off on his own...But many did not understand what Dick went through. Bruce did. And it would be highly hypocritical to not let Dick go for a while, when Bruce himself left Gotham around the age of 17 to go travel the world ? To train, and find meaning in it all ?

Plus, who said he wouldn’t keep an eye on his boy ? As if he was gonna let his son completely on his own. Of course, Dick didn’t need to know Bruce was totally spying on him, but...Well, Bruce couldn’t completely let go.

So yes. Bruce was behind Dick as his teen of a son had a harsh decision to make. Because it wasn't just about finding himself...There was also Damian.

Could he leave his baby brother behind ? Would the little boy understand ?

Would Dick be strong enough to go away from his family, even if he knew he needed it and it wasn’t permanent ?

Bruce knew Dick needed to go. Needed time to find himself, understand who he truly was, and move on. But Bruce also knew that he was held back by the love he had for his brother, adopted father, and adopted grandfather...

He also knew that it became vital for his boy, as he saw him more and more get lost in thoughts. Just like it was vital for him, as a seventeen years old boy, to leave Gotham to train.

And so he sat with Dick, and talked about it, keeping Damian away for a little while so that cute little toddler wouldn’t change Dick’s decision.

They wrote a pros and cons list, and the pros outweighs the cons by a little. Bruce tells his son that he has to take care of himself first, especially in regards of his mental health...

It was just for a little while anyway, and he could come back if he felt too homesick, right ? The Wayne fortune came in handy, for that. There was also the possibility of video conferences.

And so Dick joined the Teen Titans, with a heavy heart, but knowing it was for the best at that time for him.

Damian seemed quite sad at first, since he was so used to have his brother around at all time ! But as every kid, he adapted rather fast and although he asked often about “Dick”, a video conference with him was enough, as the little boy knew his brother would never abandon him and surely come back.

(---> In many stories but not in all of them (canon man...What a mess), Dick and Bruce do not see eye to eye as to which methods they should use while out there in the street, Dick thinking Bruce is much too violent etc etc...It’s sort of unclear wether Dick left or Bruce “fired” him really, but they have a pretty bad fall out and Dick leaves, leaving a Bruce that finds himself in a very dark lonely place, up until Jason comes in his life...but in this version, raising a baby and finding the light earlier in his life, I think Bruce wouldn’t be as violent, and share Dick’s views as to how they should proceed as Batman and Robin. Of course, they still beat villains’ asses. That their schtick, HOWEVER, they don’t beat them near to death ? They incapacitate them in many ways. I think if Baby Damian had been in Bruce’s life since the beginning, his Batman would’ve been much different...I mean, it’s Dick’s departure that made him change his method slightly and be less violent ? That made him question himself and reconsider ? So if he already had a child in his life before that ? One that came from his union with a certain Talia Al’Ghul ? If the all point is to save him from violence and such ? Then I think Bruce’s Batman would be different...If any of this makes sense ? Just explaining this scene for those who know the comics and are like : “wtf Ella that’s not how it went ?!” haha, AU).

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

The boy who stole the Batmobile’s tyres.

Jason was barely even twelve, when Bruce brought him back with him to the bat cave. He was a frail and wary little boy, and Bruce could only imagine what he went through...

No one just dares to steal from the Batman’s himself without a reason. And in Jason’s case, that reason was clearly survival.

He had a few scratches on his face, and bruises on his arms. Bruce didn’t want to re-open whatever trauma he went through, or ask too many questions that would make the boy uncomfortable...So he simply offered help.

A warm meal, and a place to sleep for the night. Little did he know at the time, that the boy would stay much longer than the night...

And oddly enough, the boy instantly accepted. Because someone being nice to him while he caught him stealing from him must be nice right ? Also, he heard of the Batman. He knew the good he did.

And so it all started. A simple night and a warm meal turned into official adoption papers, and the rest is history...

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

The more the merrier.

Bruce wasn't sure how Damian would take the fact that Jason was staying for good. After all, he was so close from Dick...Was Jason going to be able to find his place in his new family ?

When Bruce introduced Jason officially to Damian, the boy didn’t really react, just thinking he wouldn’t say. They played together, but Bruce wasn’t sure it stuck in his little four years old that Jason was here to stay.

So he officially stated it. Jason was adopted now, for good and...his worst fear happened. Damian took a good look at Jay, up and down, then turned around and ran away.

The poor little boy (Jason) looked absolutely crushed. He really was excited to finally have a home, his time at the Manor was the best he ever had ! And he really liked little Damian, but if he didn’t like him in return and didn’t want him in the family ? It was painful.

But then a few minutes later Damian came back, holding his two favorite toys ever, and walked straight to Jason, in a determined way, gave him the toys and said :

“Fo’ you. Zayson.”

And Jason Todd, barely twelve years old, almost cried as this little boy who was facing him did that small act of kindness. Did something that no one ever really did for him before.

Jason Todd had a new bother. And so did Damian.

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

A new brother.

Damian and Jason bonded even further once the official adoption papers went through. This made Bruce realize how strong his little boy was because... Damian clearly missed having an older brother.

He wasn’t quite acting with Jason how he acted with Dick, however. With Dick, Damian would shadow him all around, and just sit in his lap, looking at what he did.

Sometimes Dick needed to be on his own, and Damian would just wait for him, not seeking him too much, understanding ? Dick and Damian had quite a lot of years of difference.

When Dick was 12, Damian was a baby.

Jason and Damian still had quite a bit of difference, but now, Damian was four. He could play, and talk, and invent new games.

That boy was very imaginative.

And Jason ? His dream had always been to have a little brother, so he played along with everything. Where Dick enjoyed being a mature older brother who would console Damian and be there when he needed...Jason was an active older brother, who loved to play and have fun.

His childhood was clearly stunted by drama that happened in his early life, and with Damian, it was like he could live some of the years he lost again.

Not that he was acting childish, oh no, on the contrary. But he would just play along, something that Dick rarely did. Dick had other game and interest, Jason was very happy to play pretend.

Dick was the comforting, reassuring older brother.

Jason was the fun one that you could always count on and that had the best game ideas.

Maybe the fact Jason and Damian were a little closer in age played for a lot ? Probably. Or maybe Jason, who always dreamt of a brother, would just do anything to be liked by Damian.

Not that he had to try hard. Damian adored both his older brothers equally. For different reasons. Yet the love was there all the same.

More often than not, Damian would escape his bed and room, to go sneak into Jason’s bed at night, and wait for his brother to come home from patrol.

Both Jason and Bruce let him, of course, it was very cute. And Jason felt oddly safe, there, with his little brother curled up beside him ?

It was like little Damian, his precious little brother, meant home.

Bruce did too, for sure. Jason never had a dad, and he was so happy to have one that was as cool as Bruce ! But his little brother represented something he never thought he could have.

In which world would Jason Todd, little orphan living in the streets, ever have such a great little brother ? Or a chance to have a family ?

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

The good years.

Dick would often come by, while still being with the Titans. It was his eighteen birthday soon, and he wanted to show everyone his new costume...After all, he couldn’t be Robin anymore !

Jason got along really well with his older brother, and found a place in this world he never thought he would.

Bruce...Well his children eased the pain in his heart. The pain his parents’ death left behind, and that he thought would never go away. Was it bad, that every year it hurt a little less ? But seeing his children grow...

Damian was almost six now, and growing into such an intelligent little boy. Bruce couldn’t even imagine, what he would’ve gone through, if he had stayed with the Al’Ghuls.

What kind of little six years old he would be, if it happened that way...

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

Where did Jason go ?

Yes. Jason and Damian were very close. Jason instantly discovered his big brother instincts, and Damian just liked being around him. Because Jay ? He was so funny ! And always willing to play with him !! Even if know he was a big person, fifteen years old, an old man !!

And so one morning, when Damian woke up and as usual, ran from his room to Jason’s to wake him up by jumping on him...The boy found an empty room, and a bed still made.

Did Jason not come home tonight ? Odd. The first thought that crossed Damian’s mind was to then go find his dad, who would surely know where Jason was !

“Daddy ! Daddy !!”

Bruce wasn’t in bed either, which was odd but also reassuring ? It meant they probably were both downstairs, having breakfast.

But when Damian went downstairs, going down the stairs as fast as his little legs could without falling, he only found Alfred, sitting behind the kitchen counter, holding his head in his hands.

“Fafred ?”

Damian asked. He never could quite pronounce “Alfred” properly, and everyone just went along with “Fafred”, and it stuck...It was cute.

The butler jumped up in surprise, and looked at the boy sadly. Why were his eyes wet ?

“You’re hurt Fafred ?”

Damian asked, clearly very concerned. Oh. Oh sweet little boy. Alfred wasn’t sure he could handle it. Not right now. He picked the little one up, and sat him in front of him, on the counter.

Five years old little Damian, almost six ! ; Put his palm on Alfred’s forehead, and said :

“You’re not hot Fafred, what is it ? Did you fall ? Where does it hurt ? Do you want a magic kiss ? Do you need the hospital ?”

It was adorable, how worried the little one was. It was also unbearable, in this instant. How was he supposed to...What was he supposed to...??

“No, Master Damian, I did not fell.”

“You okay ? What happened ?”

“Yes, I am okay.”

“You don’t look okay. What happened ?”

“Old people problems, you know.”

Alfred couldn’t. He couldn’t say anything.

Damian looked around, and realized the kitchen was empty. No cereal bowls out, nothing. Which was odd. If Bruce and Jason weren’t in their bed, then they should be down here having breakfast ! That’s how it always was !

“Fafred, where is daddy ?”

Please Master Damian, please do not ask him this question, do not...

“Where is Zayson ?”

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

WHERE DID JASON GO ??????

Damian didn’t understand where his big brother Jason went, and why his daddy was so sad all the time now. Of course, he was happy his big brother Dick came back and seem to want to stay for good, but him too, seemed sad whenever he looked at him.

Why ? Why was Dick always on the verge of crying when his eyes fell on his little brother ? Was it...because he reminded him of Jason’s absence ?

Damian didn’t understand why everyone was sad, but it was starting to make him very sad too. His little five years old self didn’t understand why was this happening ?

He wanted Jason.

Jason always knew for sure how to make him laugh.

But nobody would tell him where Jason went, and Damian had no idea where to look first !! Maybe in the garden ? No, he went there already, and he didn’t find Jason in their tree house. Neither did he find him at their secret spot, or near the sandbox. Jason would never go near the pond, he knew it was dangerous because he always told Damian not to go.

Maybe he was in school ? Very busy so he didn’t came back yet ? Oh that was an idea ! Damian suddenly felt excited. Yes. That’s it. Jason must be still at school ! And if Damian went to wait for him at the bus stop, then he would surely appear, right ?!

Enthusiastically, Damian ran at the front door. Everyone around was too out of it to even notice what he was doing. The boy put his shoes on (on the right feet this time), and went to take the chair in the corner of the corridor, dragging it as best he could to the front door so he could hop on it and turn the knob.

He finally managed it, got down from the chair and opened the door to find...A boy about to ring the doorbell ?

“Hi there ! I’m Tim ! Is your daddy around ?”

To be continued... ---> Part 2 :) clickclickclick

__________________________________________________

Here we go. This is part 1/2, I hope you liked it and will want more...Next part will contain more about what changed in Bruce compared to the canon timeline(s) like in more details (sorry I’m writing this very tired and slightly drunk) and more baby Damian, and the arrival, of course, of Tim, Cass, Steph, Duke etc etc...Everyone who has not appeared yet, basically :). I really hope you liked this haha, I’m so nervous...I didn’t talk about the actual BATMAN things yet because this all comes from the view of a kid who is still just 5 so far so ya know :) As usual, feedbacks and reblogs are always much appreciated!

AGES IN THIS TIMELINE (in case you are wondering) : We all know that ages in comics are a mess, especially when it comes to the Batfam. Most canon aging actually make little sense when you try to make up an ACTUAL timeline. So I guess we all have our own preferences and headcanons, which is fine again, given the state of “canon” hints and downright claims (which often contradicts each others btw). I mentioned during the story that I used a post-crisis canon for Dick that puts him around the age of 12 when he’s taken in by Bruce (but again, personal preference = 8). Which means he’s about 12 years older than Damian. He leaves for the Titans age 15/16. So it would make the age difference between him and Jay about 4 years (which is almost canon by a year less), Jay and Damian would then be 8 years apart (same, pretty close but not quite, by two years really :/ then again it depends the canon), Jay and Tim about 3 years apart (pretty much canon), so Damian and Tim about 5 years (again a little less than canon...but then you see what I mean when I say it makes little sense at times ? Hehe). Cass and Damian would be 4 years apart, Duke and Damian 2 years apart (Duke = older), Steph and Damian about 4/3 years like between Tim and Cass I guess, and well Babs is supposedly a little older than Dick so let’s say 13/14 years. Here. Hope that cleared up their age in this ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. No need to tell me what the canon age are are, we actually aren’t really sure because it changes CONSTANTLY (Damian seems to be the only one that grow up haha and only so he could join the TEEN Titans...But then he’s somehow thrown back in his age so he becomes much younger than aged 17 years old Jon ?! Really, canon age makes no sense and in the end don’t really exist hahahahahahahaha), every head canon is open :). Especially in an AU.

Also : Let’s give back to Caesar what is Caesar’s ! Thanks to @arianatheangelworld, for the many baby!Damian “imagine” asks you send that fueled my inspiration ! ^^.

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goddesswritings · 3 years

Text

peacefall - the adjustment | Sam Taylor

Title: peacefall – the adjustment

Pairing: AU Ghost!Sam Taylor x OC

Summary: Y/n is a writer and her books are pretty popular. She moves into a house in the country to get away from the craziness of the city. She wants to put all her focus on her next book. Weird things begin happening in the house. She discovers she has a ghost and he has quite a past. They begin to bond, but he begins to see that she is hiding something big from him. Something that will impact her life.

Word Count: 2.1k

Y/n/n = Your Nickname

MASTERLIST

********

PART ONE <<

“I wasn’t sure what to expect, but a helpless, miniature person was not it. When my older sister came to tell me, we were expecting a new sibling she reminded me that I was once that new person coming into life and that now, I share the responsibility in protecting them. That my life was going to change for the better, with this new addition to the family, as was theirs.”

Today you decided to make this ghost show itself one way or another, because you were getting sick of its games. It had been responsible for hiding the book notes. It was keeping you up half the night with the noises it would make. No matter how much noise it made, it would never show itself.

This made you realize the history of the house needed to be found and then maybe you would be able to figure out who was haunting the place. A big part of you knew the ghost was the man that was seen in that dream. Sam. But you needed to make sure that there was a Sam who did indeed live in the house. Maybe then he can settle down and let you reside with him in peace.

Waking up this morning, you felt a slight pressure in your head. This was your sign you were going to get a headache sometime during the day. So, you needed to make the trip out of the house quick, before the headache set in. Because once the headache hit, it took a full day to recover. There was no remedy for them.

Quickly getting dressed, you called a cab to take you to the library, where you knew to find information on the house you were living in. There had to be something in the books about it.

When you arrived at the library, you spotted an older lady sitting at the desk reading. You really hoped she could help.

She looked up as you approached her, “Hello, can you help me?” You questioned with a smile.

She smiled, “Of course I can. What did you need?”

Hoping you didn’t sound crazy when you told her this, you just dove right in, “I moved into town a few months ago, into a little house on Monroe Street. The house is incredibly old, I can’t really tell you how old though because I’m not good with that kind of stuff. Anyway, there have been some odd things happening in the house. I need to find out the history of the house.”

She had listened intently to you and the smile never left her face, “Oh dear, you’re the author who moved into the Taylor house.”

You tilted your head, “Oh yes, I am. Now why is it called the Taylor house?”

The woman stood up, “Why don’t we go have a seat at that table and I will tell you the history of the house.” Nodding, you followed her to the table. Settling in the chair across from her.

“In 1854, a man by the name Sam Taylor bought the house. No one knew much about the man, just that he was a very handsome fellow that had all the women wanting to become his wife. All we know is that he was an extraordinarily rich man. Oh, and he was extremely sweet. He used a lot of his money to help the town prosper.” Sam Taylor sounded like the perfect man.

“What happened to him?” As if you didn’t already know. You’d already put together that the dream was not just a dream. It was something that took place in that house, which means Sam must be the one haunting the house.

The lady frowned, “It’s not good darling. He was involved with a woman named Annabelle Porter. He was in love with her, even though she was betrothed to another man. He loved her with all his heart. People were positive she was going to leave her betrothed to marry Sam, but it didn’t play out that way. Sam disappeared without a trace.”

“Did they find him?”

She shook her head, “No dear, they didn’t. There was talk that he just simply left town because Annabelle wouldn’t marry him. But the authorities think differently. They had investigated his home to discover it had been broken into, or it seemed that way. They didn’t find anything else. But about a month after he disappeared, all his money went missing from the bank. They know that he wasn’t the one to take it.” Poor Sam.

“Oh my, that’s so sad…. Ugh.” A searing pain in your head cut you off. It was intense. You quickly gripped your head in pain.

“Are you alright dear?” The lady asked sounding afraid.

“Ugh….. no.” You were willing the pain to go away but knew it would not. “Could you…. uh…..call me a cab?” You had managed to ask this through the bursts of pain.

“Darling, don’t you think you should go to the hospital?” She was genuinely concerned at this point.

“No…..ah…. I just need to get home and……oh gosh……take my medicine.” The pain was so intense it made you want to cry. At this point, you knew that not even the medicine could help to suppress the intense throbbing. Nothing ever helped. The lady must have agreed because she rushed off to call a cab. You just stayed there, laying your head on your arms while trying to forget the pain.

Ten minutes later the lady showed up beside you, “Come on honey, your cabs here. Let me help you.” She helped you to stand up and walk outside. You were doing the best to breathe through the pain. Finally in the cab, you were on your way home. The librarian had even paid for the cab ride, how sweet of her.

When arriving home, you made your way to the kitchen and located the pain medication. Then you quickly took two before retreating off to the living room, where you passed out on the couch.

****

You guess you’d slept for a few hours, because when you were waking up you noticed that it must have been late afternoon. Also, you felt as though you were being watched. Turning your head, you saw a tall man, with Carmel eyes and dark hair. It was Sam.

Sam was looking at you with concern. It was easy tell he had been watching you for a while and it surprisingly didn’t bother you. Sitting up, you smoothed out your clothes.

“Sam?” You asked hoping to god he wouldn’t disappear because you really wanted to talk to him today.

“Yes, I am Sam.” He finally spoke.

“Are you not scared of me?” He questioned while looking you over, almost like he was trying figure out why you weren’t scared of him.

You shook your head, “No, should I be?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know. Everyone else who has lived in this house has been afraid of me. They all moved out with the first month. You are the first one who has stayed this long.”

“Well I don’t think there is anything to be scared of with you. You’re harmless.”

He chuckled, “Well that’s a first.”

Hearing him laugh, made you smile. It was completely crazy that you were actually conversing with a ghost right now. Add that to the list of things you would have never thought could happen. That list was getting quite long at this point.

“Yes, I suppose it is. I’m Y/n/n by the way.” You introduced yourself. You would think he would want to know the name of the woman inhabiting his house.

“Well you know that I am Sam. Sam Taylor.”

“Yes, I do.” You paused for a second, “Can I ask you some questions?” Suddenly you felt the need to know what it was like being a ghost. You needed to know how he was still here and how he was able to talk to you like this.

“Go ahead, I have eternity.” He chuckled a bit at that, you cracked a smile at his little joke.

“Hmmm okay. How long have you been trapped in this house?”

“Well I died in 1858 and its 2019 now, so I have been stuck here for 161 years.”

161 years. That was a long time to be stuck in a house like this.

“Oh wow, that’s a very long time.” You commented.

He shook his head, “It does not feel that long to be honest. Time passes a lot differently once you are dead.”

“Really? That’s cool. Umm, is it lonely?” That was a question you were afraid to ask.

He shrugged and started to walk around the room, “Sometimes it can be. It all depends on who’s occupying the house and the time of year. I don’t know why, but in the winter, it feels a lot lonelier than in any other seasons.”

“Oh.”

“Is it lonely living alone?” He suddenly asked. You hadn’t expected him to ask questions, but you welcomed it.

“I haven’t always lived alone. Right now, I need to be alone. I’m working on a particularly important book that needs to be finished and the only way I can do that is if I’m completely alone.” You couldn’t go into specifics about the book. Not yet.

“Oh okay.”

“How are you even communicating with me right now?” That was your biggest question right now.

Sam stopped pacing the room and faced you again, “I do not know how we are communicating. You are the first person to be able to see me. Other tenants were just able to hear me messing around the house. But they never actually saw me or heard me speak. No matter how hard I tried to get them to see me.” You could detect a hint of sadness in his voice. That was something you could understand.

There was an idea as to why You were able to see him right now, but you decided not to tell him.

“Well I guess I am different than them. More willing to see you maybe?”

He shrugged while looking closely at you. It felt like he could see right through you and it was a weird feeling.

“Well I am sorry for scaring you since you have been here. I was really only messing around.”

You smiled, “You didn’t scare me Sam. I knew you were only playing games and I think it’s fine.”

“You are quite different Y/n/n. No one else has been as open minded as you have been. Is there a reason you are like this?”

Suddenly you found interest in the wood floorboards, “Umm no, I don’t think so. I guess I’m just willing to experience this.”

You finally looked up to meet his eyes. Now you knew he was staring into your soul.

“Well I enjoy talking to you. I have not talked to a soul in all the time I have been dead.” He admitted.

“Wow that is an awfully long time not to talk to anyone. Please feel free to talk to me whenever because I like talking to you too.” It was the truth. Talking with Sam eased your mind of all troubles. He had a very calming personality.

“Good because I think we are going to be talking a lot.” He had the most amazing smile upon his face.

“Yes, I would like that.”

“I’m afraid I need to take a break. I don’t have much energy to talk to you for too long.”

This had you frowning because you had momentarily forgotten that Sam was a ghost. Ghosts needed energy to be able to manifest.

“Okay. I should probably go get some writing done. Please feel free to come to me whenever.” Honestly, you enjoyed being around Sam and he felt very human to you. It made you want to learn more about his life. You wanted to be able to talk to him about my life too.

“Yes, I will. Now please don’t overwork yourself Y/n Y/l/n.” He spoke before disappearing from sight.

That was weird. You don’t remember telling him your full name. You introduced yourself as Y/n/n. How did he know?

You were happy that you had slept off the headache. Now, you would be able to get some more of the book done. It needed to get done soon. You didn’t know when the deadline would be.

PART THREE >>

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fandom-necromancer · 3 years

Text

A matter of comfort

This was prompted by the amazing @iamsofternow ! I hope you enjoy! This story involves trans topics. As I’m not trans myself, please tell me if anything I wrote is wrong or could hurt someone! I will change/delete it!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: implied body disphoria, trans character written by a non-trans author)

Nines was running just behind Gavin following the fugitive android. He cursed as he should have caught up to the criminal long ago, hadn’t it been for the fugitive’s companion who had nearly ripped his left leg from its socket as he had interfaced to induce stasis for later arrest. Like this, he could only keep up with his human partner that was blocking his sight remaining surprisingly on the optimal path to catch up even with the faster model. Right as they turned the corner though, Nines got a good view of their fugitive, who had turned in just the right way to pull out a pistol from his side. Although the supposed weapon was still masked behind his body, Nines had already pre-constructed the probability of the bullet hitting his partner. So, right when he exited his pre-construction software, he shouted: ‘Gavin! To the left! Now!’

The exact second, he shouted “now” the bang of the pistol being fired echoed through the air and Gavin jumped aside and out of the way. Nines realised three outcomes next: First of all: Gavin would survive. Secondly, the bullet would hit him instead, directly into his thirium pump, causing him to bleed out and overheat in mere seconds. And lastly: His momentary momentum was too high to break or redirect in his weakened and damaged state, causing him to run directly into the railing, tip over it and fall into Detroit River. That didn’t mean he tried to stop that outcome anyways, hoping for that few percent chance the universe would align to save him.

But in the end, it was futile, as he felt his body fall and saw the water rushing closer. All he could do was shutting down before the water would cause him to short-circuit and hope that someone would care enough to fish him out of the river.

‘Nines!’ Gavin had jumped to the side as soon as the android had said something and only started running again, as he registered Nines had been shot in his place. He watched as the android stumbled forwards, trying hard to halt before the railing, but even to the human it was obvious he wouldn’t make it with the way his left leg slipped under his weight. He had to watch as the android toppled over, desperately trying to reach for the vertical bars but hands grasping only air. And then he disappeared.

An agonisingly long moment later, Gavin found himself at the very same railing, leaning over and staring down at the splash that was the only evidence Nines hadn’t just simply disappeared into thin air. ‘Nines!’ Could androids swim? Was Nines light enough so it was even possible? Was he even waterproof? How severe had the wound been? Would he survive this? He was short of jumping himself, but held himself back, calling backup instead. He informed them of what had happened, that their fugitive had escaped and was armed. ‘I need a technician here. And… A diver probably. As soon as possible!’

About an hour later, Gavin stood at the side of a scene that could have been finny hadn’t it been his partner: A tow truck had parked at the edge of the pier and pulled up Nines’ motionless body with a wench. A team of technicians as well as a group of the experts that had worked on the sole prototype’s development had gathered around the truck and got to work immediately as soon as the android was lowered to the ground. Multiple cables were hooked up to his neck port while others carefully opened as many compartments manually as they could to let the water out. The partial reactivation half an hour later made Gavin hope for good news, but the technicians shook their heads.

‘What?! What is it?’ ‘He shut down before hitting the water, that’s good. His memory core is likely the best protected part of him, therefore it is still intact. The person you got to know is still there.’ ‘I hear a but coming’, Gavin sighed. ‘Yes. He won’t be able to use this body. The damage is too intense. He will need almost a full body replacement and as he is the only unit ever developed, we can’t just put him in a new one. We will have to contact people that have already resigned if they haven’t fled the city after the revolution. It will take a long time until we are finished rebuilding him.’

Gavin’s face fell. ‘How long are we talking here?’ ‘At least six months. Likely more if we don’t have all the blueprints readily available. Some of it was top-secret and some only Kamski’s AI had access to.’ ‘So effectively, Nines is dead for the next six months, possibly more?’ ‘We will try our best to come up with a solution.’

That was about all of an explanation Gavin got as the technicians carried Nines over to a van, laid him down in the transport area and drove off after leaving their contact details with Fowler, who had only just arrived at the scene. He stood there, answering his Captain’s questions once again and then returned to the precinct where he was supposed to carry on with his job. Because Nines was in repair and taken care of and he would recover eventually. Seemingly only Gavin sat there staring at the empty chair and worrying how the hell he was supposed to continue like this without his partner, a pain in the ass but still by now a person he considered a friend or at least acquaintance, missing for half a year.

When Nines stood in front of the station, he felt uncomfortable. Not only because of the attention his unannounced visit would likely cause, but also because of his body. His old clothes stretched in places it hadn’t before, his considerably weaker state compared to his old one was unsettling, and his perspective had changed too. He was looking at the world from a point far lower now. It was an overall weird feeling.

He entered the lobby and walked up to the reception, grimacing as he pulled out his badge and pass. ‘Hello. I’m Detective Nines, I’d like to talk to Fowler.’ He cringed at the high pitch in his voice he couldn’t modulate like he could do with his own. The android behind the counter frowned, so Nines extended his hand – so much smaller and more defined, almost sculpted – for an interface. Soon after, the receptionist smiled at him the next second and let him pass the security gate.

Nines directly marched towards the glass cube of Fowler’s office, ignoring the confused faces of his colleagues. He tried to walk with just as much confidence as he always had, but it was difficult now that he had everyone’s attention. The only reason he wasn’t stopped by any of them was that the receptionist obviously had let him pass and not activated any alarm yet. He sighed, entering the glass cube and waiting for Fowler to get off his phone call. What was nearly immediately happening.

‘Who are you? What are you doing here? Who let you in?’ ‘I’m Nines’, he declared, handing over his badge and service weapon. ‘I think I’ll have some explaining to do.’

Gavin had watched the foreign woman walk into the bullpen like it was nothing out of the ordinary. He exchanged glances with Chris and Tina, who both just shrugged and looked back to the reception. But as no one came running after her, they just collectively frowned and waited for what would happen next. At least the woman seemed to know exactly where to go and she headed directly for Fowler’s office. Maybe someone from the higher ups? But she was an android… Not to be racist, but most of them hadn’t yet made it so far up the ladder, even with the new regulations in place. He watched her enter the office and hand an object over, then the glass frosted over for privacy, leaving them wonder but soon getting back to their work.

‘Everyone!’ Gavin’s head lifted up from the paper he was working on to look towards the stairs in front of the glass cube. Fowler was standing next to the woman and Gavin froze. That could only mean… Had they replaced Nines already? He had only been gone for a week and a half. ‘This is Nines. Cyberlife found a way to transfer him into a new body, so he isn’t missing life for half a year. I expect you to treat him the same way you did before and help him to adapt the best he can. Now back to work.’

Gavin always prided himself to be unphased by almost everything. This though? This had his mouth gaping in surprise. And he wasn’t the only one. But of course, the woman – Nines – was approaching their desk already, and he forced himself to stand up and keep his face under control. ‘Nines?’ ‘Yes.’ Gavin had to look really intently to notice it, but the way the woman looked to the ground ashamed or maybe embarrassed had something entirely Nines to it. ‘Yes, it is me.’ ‘Holy shit, it’s nice to see you’re still alive’, Gavin sighed as even considering everything, this had been the most important thing. ‘What- How- They told me it would take over six months!’ ‘Yes, I was informed. My own body will indeed need more time to be repaired. About that time actually. But for the time being, they transferred me into this tracy model.’ ‘A tracy?’ ‘They are the only ones that are compatible with my programming.’ ‘Would have thought they’d put you in a RK800.’ ‘We have a similar architecture, yes. But only Tracies are able to freely download additional data and programs outside of their own… purpose and are the only android model aside from custom ones that allow intense modification. My personality isn’t that extensive, but my military programming is. Therefore, they put me into this body.’ ‘Well, it’s good to have you back’, Gavin stammered. ‘I… I don’t know if I’m so happy about it. Maybe just waiting those months would have been better. At least for me. I wouldn’t have noticed the time.’ ‘Then why didn’t you do that?’ Nines stepped from one foot to the other. ‘I don’t want to miss that much time. And I worried that… That being gone for so long would alter your view of me. Also, someone obviously has to look after your ass on missions like the last one.’ Gavin chuckled at that. ‘Yeah, thanks for that, I… I guess you saved my life.’

They kept standing there awkwardly, unsure what to say or if they should rather be quiet. It was Nines, who spoke up in the end: ‘Should we get back to work? Did you catch the fugitive?’ ‘Hmm? Yeah, sure.’ Both of them sat down and Gavin updated him on their cases, after which they both got back to work. But something kept Gavin looking back at Nines and it wasn’t him trying to adjust the chair to his new hight. ‘Hey, err… you said you don’t know if you are happy about being back… Is there a reason for that?’, he finally asked. Nines looked up. ‘Yes, actually… This might be dumb, I mean androids and genders don’t really make sense, but… I feel weird in this body. I guess it is a matter of adaption, but… If I could, I would love to have my own back. This is… highly uncomfortable.’ ‘Just because of the body or-‘ ‘Gavin, I’m a woman now. For at least the next six months. And I have never been a woman before. This is… alienating.’ Gavin swallowed. ‘I… first of all, others see you as a woman. That’s not necessarily the same as being one. Second-‘ ‘I don’t see a difference there’, Nines interrupted. ‘Okay, as someone to who this really matters: There is a difference. And as I was about to say, I might be able to help you.’ ‘And how’s that?’ Gavin grimaced, looking around to see if anyone heard them. It wasn’t something he considered a secret, but he still had only come out to his closest friends, mostly because it was personal. ‘Well, Nines I haven’t exactly always been considered male myself… Maybe I kinda get how you are feeling at the moment. Just saying I might be able to help you if you want that.’ ‘I…’ Nines looked at him and maybe it was the fact that this new body’s eyes were just as blue as his own, but Gavin could clearly see the surprise and relief on his face. ‘I would appreciate that.’

They met on neutral grounds the next weekend with the overall plan to get Nines something comfortable to wear and help him set a few things clear. As Gavin waited on the bench outside the mall, he was playing with his thumbs lost in thought. Yes, okay, he would admit he felt guilty about the whole ordeal. He knew far too well how it could feel being uncomfortable most of the time simply because of existing in a space with others that didn’t see you as you truly were. Being the cause of that was just… Nines had taken a bullet for him and now suffered the consequences. The least he could do now was help where he could and make these six months as comfortable as it could be for the android.

‘Hello, Gavin. So, what’s the plan?’ Gavin jerked up pulled from his thoughts and only then adjusted realising this wasn’t a random woman asking him, this was Nines. ‘Err… Hi. Yeah, err, I thought to get some clothes for you? But I don’t know what will help you. What bothers you the most?’ ‘I don’t really know’, Nines shrugged. ‘I’m just… bothered? What was the first thing you changed?’ Gavin cleared his throat, breaking eye contact. ‘I… Well, I changed pronouns. Told them I would like to be addressed as a he, not a she. Then I changed my name to fit my identity. But err… you don’t have to do that, you are seeing yourself as male, right?’ ‘I don’t see myself as anything, Gavin’, Nines disagreed. ‘I am a program running on hardware that is now considered female. So I guess, I would switch to female pronouns? It would cause less confusion and spare me the explanation every time I’m introduced.’ ‘Nines, this isn’t about what’s more comfortable for others but for you.’ ‘I’m more comfortable not talking to strangers about my personal life if we are on a case.’ ‘Okay’, Gavin said, lifting his arms in defeat. ‘It’s your decision. But by the way, you can also go by them or other pronouns. It’s not that uncommon and it would go with your personal perception.’ ‘I will be considered female’, Nines determined. ‘At least for the time I possess this body. I may think of adapting something else once I’m back in my body.’

‘Alright’, Gavin nodded. ‘Do you want to change your name, too?’ ‘My name will remain Nines. I like it and I see no reason to change it.’ ‘Nice’, Gavin commented. ‘Then let’s see if we can get you something to wear that’s not Cyberlife branded.’

The months had passed quicker than thought. After an initial adapting phase, work almost went back to normal. Gavin had went shopping with Nines, buying a bunch of clothes both baggy and tighter as Nines hadn’t been sure if she wanted to accentuate her body or hide it just yet. She did underline that she liked tighter clothes as they didn’t get in the way as much, but in the end, she seemed to settle mostly on hoodies that were some sort of a compromise of both.

During work Gavin noticed a few things neither of them could change or disregard: Nines was slower now. The Tracy body wasn’t built to withstand higher forces and overheated far too quickly in high demand tasks, limiting Nines to only slightly above human levels of speed and endurance. She wasn’t as durable either. Without armoured plates and reinforced hull segments, almost every hit to her meant repairs and replacement parts. Gavin learned quickly to keep watch of Nines and more than once catch a blow from some criminal directed at her if it meant she would be spared the trip to a technician – although she always scolded him for that. Reduced strength of her model compared to her former soldier unit also meant Gavin had to constantly remind her of it, much to Nines’ frustration.

By the time the fifth month started, almost everyone had adapted to Nines’ new self and the call from Cyberlife that her body was repaired was almost like a wake-up call. Gavin and Nines had grown closer during these few months. Gavin had helped her whenever she asked for it and the mutual need to look out for each other now had changed their dynamic quite a bit. Gavin considered Nines his best friend by now, maybe even more considering how intimately familiar they both had become. He had shared stories with her he had never told anyone else about and Nines had in turn been the first person, Gavin had met outside of the internet that shared his experience. How often they had just sat next to each other on a couch in either of their apartments, sharing their thoughts holding each other close. Each of them telling the others their personal worries to in turn be comforted. Sure, Gavin had known that one day Nines would get her body back and the way she smiled, honest and bright, he could only feel happiness himself. But again, there was that little voice in the back of his head that told him it all would change now. And he didn’t want it to.

He parked the car in front of the Cyberlife Tower, forcing a smile at Nines sitting next to him. She smile back at him, obviously more than excited to walk over, but hesitating. ‘Will you wait for me here?’ ‘Of course’, Gavin nodded fondly and patted her shoulder reassuringly. ‘See you in a bit.’ He watched her walk towards the entrance turning back to give him a little wave of her hand and then disappeared behind the doors. Gavin’s smile fell and he leaned back against the backrest. Why did this feel like goodbye? Nines would be the same person when she- when he? – came back outside. He was just worrying too much, surely.

But when two hours later, Nines emerged dressed in his tight black turtleneck and white custom-tailored leather jacket that looked just like her - his - uniform had without the Cyberlife logo, his heart sagged. He stepped out of the car regardless and stood there awkwardly, as Nines came closer, hugging him with a strength that hurt as he was spun around. ‘Ahh, phck, Nines, too much!’ ‘Sorry’, the far, far deeper voice chuckled and put him down. ‘Ah, it’s good to be back in my own body.’ ‘Heh, yeah…’, Gavin commented, rubbing his arms. ‘Guess so.’ ‘I can finally see everything again’, Nines marvelled and blinked before bending down to pick up a small pebble to throw it with a force as if he planned on sending it into orbit. ‘Oh, yes, I missed that. I can finally calculate everything I want to again. I can analyse samples again, I can switch to infra-red and night vision and I can scan-‘ Apparently, the android had tried everything while listing it and now frowned. ‘Gavin, are you alright?’

‘I am’, he hurried to reassure. ‘Just… You have your body back. Anything else changed?’ ‘Oh. I guess I would go by male pronouns again. Just to avoid confusion. And… I will likely change my wardrobe again, because I doubt any of the shoes will fit. But other than that… not really. Why?’ ‘Oh, nothing, just… Nah.’ Gavin opened the door and entered the car, just to escape the situation. Too bad Nines followed and sat down on the passenger side. Gavin went to turn the key in the ignition, but was stopped by a hand – too large, too powerful, far harder than before. ‘Gavin, please. We used to talk about these things, not swallow them. I… Nothing has changed. I promise. I’m still me. My body changed, but what is my body than a means to interact with the world? I am still the same.’

‘I just…’, Gavin began but stopped himself again. ‘Nines, I… Before all this happened. Before you saved my life I hardly knew you. We were work partners and you were pleasant company. But there wasn’t… We only really became friends when you changed. When you needed my help. Now that you have everything back, I… I’m worried you will just get back to business as usual.’ Nines seemed to think about all he had just heard, then turned around judging by the sound of his clothes. He remained silent though, so Gavin risked a glance over. Nines was staring at him directly, his eyes full of concern and maybe even fear. And yes, some things stayed the same. Nines was still looking at him the same way, with the same expression. ‘Gavin. It is true I needed your help, but you are a fool if you think I only kept you company because of that. I like you. I really do. And in those few months I realised what I feel for you is more than I ever felt for anyone. I may be back in my body and have less problems, but… Gavin, I still need you.’ ‘You do?’, Gavin asked sceptically. ‘Sure’, Nines grinned. ‘Who else can I sit around with in parks judging the people passing by. Who else can I gossip with about our co-workers? And who else can I talk to when I need someone to really listen? Gavin, when I say nothing changed, I mean it.’

Gavin still didn’t look convinced, so Nines took a different approach. ‘You once told me that it isn’t about what’s more comfortable for others but for yourself. I think you should understand, that just because you helped me, my need for help isn’t what makes me like you. You were there for me when I needed you most. Because of that I know you will be there for me always. And that makes me comfortable regardless of the body I am in. Do you understand?’ ‘Yes’, Gavin answered silently. ‘Yes, I do. Thank you.’ ‘I have to thank you’, Nines corrected. ‘But for now, I think we should celebrate this, shouldn’t we?’

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #RK900 #Gavin Reed #trans Gavin Reed #I wanted to add a joke of Nines being unable to open a jar but for one androids don't eat and also I'm always pissed when I can't open one #So I wanted to spare Nines the embarrassment #In our online drinking night I spent like ten to twenty minutes opening my damn bottle while everyone watched aaaa #yeah that's it for tag stories this time XD

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