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misssophiachase · 4 years

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For KC Bingo @klaroline-events - “Throne”

He’s a Prince hiding out from a pending arranged engagement in downtown NYC and she’s a school teacher minding her own business. On FF and AO3

Art Imitating Life

St John Atelier: Soho (Manhattan) New York City, NY

“Please tell me Rebekah doesn’t know your whereabouts?”

“That’s really the first thing you’re going to say after I’ve travelled 3,500 miles to visit. I know my younger sister scares you but...”

“She doesn’t scare me, well not that much,” he mumbled. “Did I mention how good it is to see you, Niklaus?”

Klaus had barely stopped to think before hastily packing his belongings, offering a feeble excuse and boarding a private flight to the United States. First stop, Enzo St John’s Atelier in downtown Manhattan.

Klaus had met Enzo in Paris where they both studied art at the Sorbonne ten years earlier. They had immediately hit it off and formed a solid friendship that transcended many different time zones over the years.

Enzo moved to New York three earlier to start his own art school and gallery. He wanted to support and promote local and upcoming artists who couldn’t afford to do so themselves. Klaus had championed his friend’s endeavours over the years and wished he had the freedom to pursue something similar.

Unfortunately, the Prince of England had other more pressing priorities.

“Better late than never I suppose,” he muttered. “I hope you don’t mind putting me up for a few weeks?”

“How about I stay in the Royal Suite at the Waldorf Astoria, that your aides have no doubt already booked, and you can stay at my lowly loft in Tribeca?”

“Always about you, isn’t it, Lorenzo?”

“Well, when you’re the best friend to a Prince it seems fair,” he teased. “So, can I ask why you’ve decided to show up unannounced at my atelier? And might I also add, where is your usually extensive entourage? I may be fit but not enough to protect you from out of control females throwing their panties at you on the street.”

“You really love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?” He joked before answering one question at a time. “Vacation to avoid my upcoming, arranged engagement. They are in England but I have two bodyguards Scotland Yard insisted upon and my life isn’t a Tom Jones concert, there is absolutely no throwing of undergarments just FYI.”

“Damn, I always hoped there’d be panties.”

“Nice to see nothing ever changes with you,” he chuckled. “And if I didn’t mention it earlier, Rebekah sends her kindest regards.”

“I’ll bet she does,” he smirked knowingly. “Your sister really can’t get enough of me. Now, how about we get a drink and discuss this engagement? I’m assuming I'm the best man and have approval over all bridesmaids?”

“How about we drink here?”

“Worried about those panties, hey?”

“You know me too well. Let’s just say I’m keeping a low profile,” he murmured, tapping his New York Yankees hat. “Also, I seem to recall a bloody expensive bottle of single malt, top shelf whiskey I sent over for your birthday.”

“Do you really think I’d save that? Although, I do have a less expensive bottle of middle shelf whiskey, Your Highness.”

“I suppose that will have to do.”

2 seconds later

“I don’t understand why you can’t tell Esther and Mikael that it’s the twenty-first century and you’re far too old to be beholden to such an outdated practice like an arranged marriage.”

“You’ve met my parents,” Klaus growled. “Their greatest joy in life is to make me do something I don’t want to do and after Finn decided to elope with a questionable commoner and Elijah entered the priesthood, they’re worried I’m going to do something similar.”

“So, what you’re really telling me is that they’re more worried that, if you go rogue, Kol will be the only hope of carrying on the family tradition and it scares the bejeezus out of them?”

“Exactly.” Enzo didn’t respond immediately, just let out a knowing laugh. “So, you see my eternal dilemma.”

“Tell me with the impending nuptials you’ve at least met your bride-to-be for more than five minutes?”

“It’s rather difficult when she lives in Bulgaria,” he replied. “Tatia Petrova is beautiful, that much I know, but other than that we have nothing in common.”

“Now I know what this is about,” Enzo grinned. “You sly dog, you’ve come to the states to find yourself an alternative wife.”

“An alternative wife? Someone has clearly been watching too many of those romantic comedy movies.”

“It’s called a rom-com, Your Royal Highness, and one of the most popular movie genres.”

“Well, whatever they are, I am doing no such thing. Also, never call me that, it always seems so tawdry when you utter it. If you must know I needed a break from all the pressure, some time to unwind and pretend I’m not a Prince and have a life of my own.”

“Sounds just like the plot from a rom-com” he teased. “All we need is a strong, intelligent, independent, beautiful and slightly feisty woman to come into the atelier and sweep an unhappy Prince off his feet.”

“Do you ever think you’re working in the wrong industry?”

“So, what exactly did you tell Esther and Mikael you were doing?” He asked, choosing not to respond to his smart comeback. “They know from experience that I’m an incredibly bad influence over you, Niklaus.”

“Exactly why they have no idea I’m with you.”

“You lied to the Queen? Wow, I don’t want to be around when she catches you out and she will because, if you hadn’t noticed, everyone knows who and what you are.”

“I said I was going to a world-class meditation retreat in Sedona to relax before the big announcement.”

“So, not only does she think you’ve taken up meditation, she thinks you’re in Arizona and not with yours truly in New York?”

“That’s about the gist of it,” he replied simply. “So, I was thinking it might be best to stay indoors, order copious amounts of Uber Eats and paint so I don’t draw attention to myself. I’ll only burden you for a couple of weeks, Lorenzo.”

“Do you even know how to order UberEats?” Klaus rolled his eyes by way of response. “Wow, that’s my idea of a wild vacation, Niklaus,” he sighed. “Fine, I’ll keep your secret if you insist. But if the Queen finds out and tries to behead me, I am counting on you to organise a speedy pardon.”

2 days later

Klaus rolled out of bed trying to block out the invading sunlight peeking through the crack in the curtains.

Enzo had kindly offered Klaus his large loft on the top story of the atelier he used to store paintings. A passionate art fan, Klaus couldn’t think of a better place to spend his next two weeks.

He stumbled down the stairs and toward the small kitchenette on the floor below. Being half asleep and struggling with jet lag he didn’t bother to dress. The area was completely off limits to the public and Klaus figured his fitted, grey boxers would suffice in order to get his much-needed caffeine fix.

“Don’t come any closer, I have mace,” a voice warned. Klaus looked up, not expecting an extremely attractive blonde to be there rifling through her handbag. No doubt attempting to find said mace but, by the looks of it, failing miserably. Klaus was tempted to lecture her about carrying around so much junk, as Rebekah tended to do, but thought better of it.

“Hold on,” he murmured, finally finding his voice. “Why are you trying to attack me, last time I checked you’re the one breaking and entering.”

“And last time I checked, you’re not Enzo.” Her expressive, blue eyes ventured lower and Klaus was fairly certain she liked what she saw.

“What gave it away, love?”

“That arrogant self-assurance for starters.”

“Are we talking about the same guy?”

“I know what you’re doing,” she growled wearily.

“And what exactly am I doing, well you know besides trying to fulfil my caffeine fix to ward off this horrible case of jet lag.”

“You forgot to add barely dressed,” she shot back, as a slight blush crossed her cheeks. “No, you are trying to distract me so I don’t mace your ass.”

“And here I thought mace was meant for the face, you Americans are funny creatures. I’m staying here, love, no need to attack me, especially this early in the day.”

“It’s lunchtime,” she huffed.

“Really? It feels so much earlier. Now, maybe I should be the one asking the questions since you are encroaching on my space.”

“Glad to see you’re making friends,” Enzo interrupted. “As the welcoming committee you could have at least thrown on a shirt.”

“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” he hissed. “In fact, she broke in here and threatened to, and I quote, ‘mace my ass.’”

“Why do you have a conceited, half dressed, smart ass in your attic, Enzo?”

“Tell me what you really think, sweetheart,” he chuckled. Klaus thought she was beautiful but her feisty and unapologetic charm was an unexpected and not wholly unwelcome surprise.

“Okay, children,” he chided. “Kl..” Klaus gave him a knowing look, he was supposed to be undercover after all.

“Caroline Forbes this is an old friend from England, although I use the word friend sparingly, uh James.”

“What? Just James? Like Madonna or Cher?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you ask too many questions, Caroline?”

“Says the guy half dressed.”

“You seem incredibly distracted by that fact, love.”

“I have no idea what’s going on here and to be honest don’t really want to know,” Enzo groaned. “But Caroline is one of my students and does a few errands around the place, hence why she has a key.”

“Oh, so you two are...” Klaus trailed off, gesturing between them.

“No!”

“Ew, yuck.”

“Gee thanks, darling, give a guy a complex. We’re friends, well except when she says things like that, it has been since Care Bear demanded I share my artistic gifts with her and I was kind enough to oblige.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly how it went,” she drawled, rolling her eyes for extra effect. Klaus couldn’t stop thinking just how adorable she looked doing it. “I teach at the local public school and given the complete lack of funding for an art program Enzo offered his atelier for weekly classes. Turns out it wasn’t just the children interested in learning.”

“Who knew you had a heart, Lorenzo?”

“And who knew you had a freckle right above…”

“How about I go get dressed? Will that make you both happy?”

“Well, I’m bringing kids here in two hours so I think that might be a good idea,” she replied, a slight smile tugging at the edges of those pink lips. Klaus didn’t respond just shook his head as he took the stairs one-by-one, his caffeine fix a long and distant memory.

2 hours later

Caroline Forbes wasn’t the kind of person to get distracted, in fact she liked to think that her ability to focus was second-to-none. Well, that was until two hours earlier when a shirt-less, English Adonis decided to interrupt her daily routine.

He was clearly a big fan of himself. overly opinionated and frustratingly cocky but Caroline couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to do more than look at his partially naked body.

Yes, maybe it had been too long, as Katherine would say, but those crimson lips curved into a knowing smile, those disarming dimples and those messy, blonde curls she wanted to run her hands through were flashing through her mind with no sign of stopping.

“Miss Forbes,” she was broken from her thoughts by someone tugging on her dress. “I need to go bathroom.”

They’d arrived at the atelier not long ago. Her class, excited to see Enzo, were milling around the room but her attention was on something else. Or someone else.

Caroline figured he probably had better things to do like sight see but she really didn’t know much about him at the end of the day. She didn’t even know his last name.

There was something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on either, he seemed so familiar, like she knew him from somewhere, which was crazy. Well, she kept telling herself that.

“Okay, Hudson,” she said, “let’s go to the bathroom.” Hudson always needed to go to the bathroom so Caroline wasn’t altogether surprised. As they made their way down the long corridor, she took in the walls filled with art not paying much attention to where she was going and running straight into something. Or someone.

“Oh, I’m so sorry…” Before she could finish her apology she saw his smirk. It was the kind of smirk that screamed you ran into me on purpose.

Bastard.

“Well, that tends to happen when you’re not looking where you’re going.” His smirk only grew wider at that point.

“I’d say it was a pleasure but I’d be lying,” she shot back, that same feeling of familiarity returning. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like someone?”

“Well, we all look like someone,” he answered, his awkward pause not lost on Caroline. “And who is this? A friend of yours?”

“I’m Hudson and I really need to pee.” Caroline watched the discomfort cross his face and couldn’t help but gloat inwardly. That would teach him for smirking at her like that.

She sent him her best counter smirk and ushered her mini companion to the nearby bathroom. At least he was clothed this time but why did he have to smell so damn good?

What she wasn’t expecting was for him to be taking part in the class when she returned with Hudson in tow. It was like he was doing it to frustrate her and it was working.

“I set you up here,” he smiled, gesturing to the easel.

“Oh, I don’t paint during this class,” she stumbled. Caroline loved to draw but only when she was alone and not surrounded by seventeen sets of prying eyes. As a teacher, Caroline knew full well that kids could be the worst critics.

“You should, I can help out with your class if you like?” His blue eyes were gazing into hers now, imploring, pleading almost. What was this guy doing to her? “Or we can share?”

“You don’t want to share with him, Miss, he’s got boy germs,” Lucy cried out from across the room. Trust her children to make an awkward moment more awkward.

“I wouldn’t want you to be subjected to my boy germs, love,” he smiled, his mouth dipping low so he could murmur it in her ear.

“Am I interrupting you two?” Enzo asked, clearly amused by the situation. “Do I need to punish you both because I will.”

“Not at all, Mister St John,” he mimicked, placing a paintbrush in her hand gently. Caroline was struggling to breathe now and not just because of his close proximity but the way his hand grazed hers.

“Miss Forbes and the teacher sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” Chanting broke out from the corner of the room and she knew it had to be Claudia, Sienna and Scarlett leading the chorus.

“Ew, gross! Girl germs!” That was Liam, Cory and Jack attempting to drown them out.

“You are unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

“You really need to stop complimenting me so much, Caroline.” She was trying to ignore just how good her name sounded rolling off his tongue but was struggling to say the least.

“For embarrassing me in front of my students you will pay, mark my words.” He didn’t respond just laughed.

Class passed relatively quickly with only a few more interesting observations from her kids. Caroline found herself enjoying his company, not that she’d admit it.

It was after she’d left the atelier and finished classes for the day that Caroline began to revisit those niggling thoughts at the back of her mind. The ones that kept reminding her just how familiar he looked.

Then it came to her.

2 hours later

“I really should have suspected something, given that pathetic introduction. I mean besides celebrities who really goes by one name?”

“Excuse me?” He asked. Klaus had been minding his business, sitting by the window and nursing a cup of tea. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since she left with her class and now here she was. “Does Lorenzo know just how much you use his key?”

“Stop changing the subject, Your Highness.”

“Oh, I see,” he murmured knowingly. Klaus would be lying if he wasn’t a little disappointed his cover had been blown. He was enjoying being around her and conversing like two normal people and then she had to throw in those two dreaded words. “You don’t need to call me that. Between you and me I actually preferred conceited, half dressed, smart ass.”

“So do I,” she grinned.

“Please tell me this isn’t going to change things between us because I happen to like those adorable eye rolls and steady stream of choice insults.”

“As long as the fact that I threatened the Prince of England doesn’t come with any kind of serious punishment.”

“Well to be honest, Caroline, I don’t think anyone would believe me if I said you threatened to ‘mace my ass’ between you and me.”

“You’re being awfully cocky for someone who finds himself in a precarious position.”

“And what position might that be?”

“Well, I could blow your cover, tell everyone the Prince of England is hiding out in an atelier in downtown Manhattan.”

“Well, you could but I don’t think you will,” he murmured.

“Well, you did embarrass me in a room full of my students, they may be young but that doesn’t mean they are not going to hold this over me for some time given their extremely long memories.”

“I’ll admit, I could have been less embarrassing i suppose. So, how exactly can I acquit myself?”

“Well, I am behind on my life drawing assignment.”

“So, what exactly are you suggesting?”

He was standing now, his gaze trained on Caroline. She looked beautiful in jeans, ballet flats and a sweater that matched the colour of her eyes perfectly. Klaus had to admit, his mind was going to places they probably shouldn’t be but he decided to blame it on another part of his body that was threatening to betray him.

“You could pose for me, I mean it’s not like I haven’t seen it before.”

“If you liked me all you needed to do is admit it, sweetheart.”

“We’ll arrange some fruit for your nether regions don’t worry, I wouldn’t want to inflate that already sizeable ego any further.”

“So, let me get this straight. I pose for your assignment and you keep my secret?”

“And you also tell me why you’re here hiding out in Enzo’s atelier.”

“Wow, you drive a hard bargain, love, but I’m up for the challenge.”

Turns out one complicated story about an impending engagement and life drawing later, school teacher Caroline Forbes and Prince of England Klaus Mikaelson took commoner/royalty relations to the next level.

In fact, they were both fairly certain they fell in love then and there.

Although his parents fought his wishes initially they came to love Caroline just like he did. Not only that but her grace, kindness and passion for humanitarian causes made her one of the most admired and beloved members of the British Royal Family.

Meanwhile, Tatia Petrova who was also against the arranged marriage, married her bodyguard whom she’d secretly been in love with for years.

And they all lived happily ever after.

#kcbingo2020 #klaroline fanfic #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline drabbles #klaroline #my writing #misssophiachase #art imitating life

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outwritenewsmag · 6 years

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Fuchsia

by Sarah Jensen graphic by Shay Suban

Love was in the air, so Alicia packed up her laptop and some notebooks and evacuated the premises. She liked her roommate, and didn’t mind her roommate’s boyfriend visiting, but the two of them were inching closer while watching some rom-com and she saw where this was heading.

Her floormates were shouting and blasting One Direction in the floor lounge. The building lounge was hosting some midterm stress relief event. Alicia was starting to entertain the idea of actually making the trek to a library for once, but a text stopped her.

Chris: Yo I’m doing chem in my lounge if anyone wants to join.

Kumiko: I’m down

Alicia considered it. Study groups usually weren’t great for her productivity. That said, Chem was her weakness this quarter. Kumiko and Chris were doing well in that class, based on the first midterm. And a free lounge was a free lounge.

Alicia: omw

She realized then that she’d forgotten her laptop charger in her room.

It’s not even a real anything. It’s just them walking down the rain-soaked street, holding hands with arms outstretched because they have the room, skipping a little in the night. The air smells clean, freshly bathed.

One twirls into the other’s arms. She turns around to hug her properly. They could say something, but words wouldn’t be enough. So they hold each other for a second, and then continue on their way in the crisp night air.

There’s a real world out there somewhere, but it’s not their concern right now. Their only worry is trying to keep the fuzz in their hearts from getting wet, which is both an easy problem and not a bad one to have.

And what is there to say? It’s a feeling that’s warm but not too warm, smells like rainy leaves and her shampoo, the softness of a chinchilla and the light chill of an autumn night. It’s like her body is free and her heart is in her hug. It’s as contradictory and beautiful as love itself.

There is nothing to say. Just them two walking down the rainy road, holding hands with arms outstretched to take up the space they’re given.

“How’s it going with Carla?”

Jack grinned as he changed lanes. “Pretty chill. I think we’ve established we’re official but on the DL.”

“Why so secretive?” Alicia asked.

“Uh… She’s worried people will judge her for getting in a relationship right after breaking up with Neal.”

“Right after? Bullshit, it’s been two months.”

Jack shrugged. “Her words, not mine. Shoutout to double standards, ‘cause I broke up with Gabrielle around the same time, and I know I won’t get judged for being with Carla.”

“Also bullshit. How long is Carla in mourning for?”

Jack laughed out loud. “I think she wants to wait another month, at least. A quarter of a year is a respectable period of mourning for a young gentlewoman,” he said in an affected tone.

Alicia snorted. “Honestly, it’s nice that she’s moved on already. She’s heading into her next love story instead of rereading the last one for too long.”

“Instead of prolonging the period of sorrow and tragedy.”

“Exactly! And I mean – aw, man, not this song.”

“What’s wrong with ‘Thinking Out Loud?’” Jack said. He seemed to be taken aback at the thought that anyone could be less than enthusiastic about Ed Sheeran.

“I dunno. It’s too sweet. Like drinking syrup.”

Jack shrugged and changed the station. Alicia made a face at “Stitches,” but didn’t comment. At least it wasn’t sappy.

“Anyways. Carla broke up with Neal, so she wasn’t even in real mourning.”

“Right, so, on the topic of double standards…”

“She’s still expected to mourn at least a little? As the girl in the relationship?”

“And if she mourns a little, she’s expected to mourn fully.”

Alicia groaned and threw up her hands, hitting the car roof a little. “Remind me to never get into a relationship with a guy.”

“I mean, I didn’t think you ever would?”

“That’s fair.”

Life as they know it is pink. A bit of a dry, light pink, a color you’d call rose and identify on the walls of an old-fashioned café. The color of jazz trumpets and strawberry lemonade.

They take a stroll – there’s no other word for it in this pink weather – in search of ice cream, but when the ice cream parlor is closed, they opt for lemonade. It’s not strawberry, and looks deceptively yellow, but don’t be fooled – it’s pink too.

It’s half a degree cooler than beach weather today. It’s warm and sweet and tart out, like the lemonade sticking in their throats, and if you look around you might see a blue sky, green leaves, a gray walk – but today, for them, life is tinted with rose-colored glasses, and there’s nothing in their way.

Alicia: Anyone’s lounge free? There’s a rom com playing in mine .-.

Kumiko: You don’t like rom coms?

Alicia: idk

Alicia: The characters’ bad decisions are stressing me out?

Chris: My lounge is free

The study group wasn’t completely efficient – mostly because Alicia’s sister texted needing relationship advice, which Alicia was fully unqualified to give – but it was certainly better than having to watch 27 Dresses.

Sometime in the first hour, Kumiko asked her about a Chem practice problem. Alicia looked and cringed internally – proton NMR spectroscopy. Her weakest weak point. She could see it now: Kumiko exposing Alicia as a fraud who didn’t know anything about chemistry, Chris reacting in shock, both of them kicking her out of the study group. But then she realized–

“Oh, the chemical shift is farther upfield for this one because…”

Alicia explained her way through it, and it made sense. “Oh, okay. Thanks,” said Kumiko.

“No problem,” Alicia said, completely taken aback. She’d scored solidly below average in her last two Chem classes, and bombed the first midterm this quarter. By now, she’d given up on really understanding Chem. Getting NMR right, and especially being able to expound upon it, was unfathomable. So how…?

Alicia couldn’t explain why she thought Kumiko had something to do with it.

Over the next few hours, their separate work converged. They solved practice problems together. It blew Alicia away – she had forgotten what it felt like to understand chem, and to see science with a sense of wonder, and to work with someone this well. She kept getting the sense that they were on the same wavelength.

They dance (they don’t really). They walk to the side of the hill to see the city lights. This isn’t something they’ve ever done before.

Neither of them care for the view. The distant city is too far and detached from their little world above. But music soars in her heart, though she doesn’t know the words, and there is a warmth in her that’s more gentle than thermal.

They hold hands and wonder if they’ve finally fallen in love.

The music takes her over and she pulls her into a ballroom embrace. She can’t hear the music, but she steps and follows her and they only step on each other’s feet a few times. She hopes what’s in her heart – the color gold, smooth as satin, a flame warmer than the lights they aren’t looking at – is in hers too.

Their steps slow as the music slows, and they draw nearer. Her head rests against her shoulder, a cheek resting on top of her head. They could kiss, but why would they when they can stay in this embrace instead?

This is what it’s like to stand in love, they think.

It was so thoroughly not-a-big-deal, Alicia couldn’t even pinpoint what happened later.

She remembered getting to the lecture hall early and listening to the Hamilton soundtrack. She remembered Kumiko and Chris arriving in chem and sitting by her, like always. And at some point Alicia thought to herself, “____________”

(She didn’t remember.)

(It was something along the lines of, “Kumiko’s kinda cute,” but the words don’t capture the feeling, which was more about the person and less about her looks.)

“So what do you like about her?” Jack asked her five days later. Five days of Alicia’s feelings snowballing down a hill, in which the hill was getting steeper and the bottom was nowhere in sight.

“Um…” Alicia kinda shrugged. “I’m still trying to put words to it. She’s… I want to say genuine? It’s like she knows exactly who she is, and doesn’t have any reason to be anything else.”

“Confidence is sexy,” Jack said, nodding as he poked the boiling tortellini. “Shit, can you… Can you hold this for a sec?”

Alicia took the colander and held it over the sink while he poured a bit of water out of the overflowing pot. “I don’t know if sexy is the right word,” she said. “I mean, she’s cute, I just… I dunno. That’s not why I fell for her.”

Jack placed the pot back on the stove. “Is genuineness the main thing you like about her?”

“I think so? I’m still working it out. Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll manage to overanalyze both her and my attraction to her over the next… however long I like her.”

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mydeardeath · 6 years

Text

To belong to (part 6)

Started here

On AO3 here

This is the last part of To belong to.

He hadn't expected Tim to truly seek him out to talk. Even less to be invited into the Omega home once again. Yet here he was. Tim looked pretty well and didn't seem to suffer from a hangover. He was already well dressed as if ready to go to work. The older man had also got rid of the pungent stench of the bar. In fact, he smelled quite good. Maybe a bit too much because he seemed Damian had been caught sniffing him. Thankfully he only received a weird look for his behavior.

Tim led him to the kitchen, offering him lunch. For a long time he didn't say anything, letting Damian squirm in his chair uncomfortably in front of him. The boy didn't even touch his food. Not that Timothy was a bad cook (well, maybe a bit but he wouldn't be wise to say so now !), but he was too nervous to swallow anything without the risk of it coming back.

"I went to my father's lawyer office this morning." Well, that explained why he had put on a suit. "Apparently my father had created a trust fund that I was to only know of after my majority. Can you guess how much was in it ?

"No".

"No ?" That probably wasn't the answer had been expected if his raised eyebrows were any indication.

"Well, I think that your father was wise enough to invest said money so the sum must have grown since the creation of this fund."

"Yeah, right. What a great businessman he was ! Selling his own son !" As much as Tim was good at hiding his emotion, Damian could still detect the bitterness in his ton. Which was understandable. Damian had grown as the grandson of one of the most powerful men in the world. Everything was within his reach. So buying Tim had seemed normal back then. Now he had learned that the world was different than his education had led him to believe. He may have money and power but he didn't entitle him to everything he desired. He had no right over other human beings. He had no right over this Omega.

"He just tried to secure your future. And you know that I hardly take no for an answer. I am a capricious brat, after all." Tim had called him that on more than one occasion. With reason.

"It hardly matters. You were right. So what now ?"

"What do you mean ?"

"I am legally yours."

"I don't intend to force you. But I would like you to consider me as a potential mate. I know we do not have the best relationship and that it is mostly my fault. I have difficulty managing my reaction when it comes to you." Damian explained, sincerely. He couldn't screw this up. This might his last chance with Tim.

"Yeah, I noticed. I can see now why you hated Kon and acted like an asshole after. But the day we met, you really seemed to hate me. Why ?

"You weren't wearing it". He muttered.

"What ?"

"The curb." Tim's fingers went automatically to it. How had he missed this detail ? He should have guessed where it had come from after discovering that Damian had told the truth. His father had given it to him just after selling the house. Along with a collar.

"The collar was yours also, I supposed ?"

"I was aware of our age difference. It may not have dissuaded me from pursuing you, but I knew that other Alphas would seek your attention and I wished to keep them away."

"Do you want me to wear one ?"

"Not if it makes you uncomfortable. As I said, if I am to have you, it will only be because you want it. I have learned of the notion of consensuality in my years in Gotham and cannot do without it."

"Good. I may consider it. But I'm not wearing a fucking collar."

"It's okay." He spoke a bit too quickly, his tone betraying his excitement.

"I can't make you any promises, Damian, but... I hadn't been looking for a mate before and the fact that I'm legally an adult didn't change that. So maybe you will still have a chance when you got older. But no courting before you're at least sixteen !"

"I can do with that. In fact, I had not imagined that you would so kind considering my behavior in the past."

"Well, now that I understand your actions better, I am more willing to give you a second chance. Don't mess it up."

They stayed together for one more hour after their discussion, remaining on safe topic for the moment, before Tim had to go. He had a date with Tam. He watched Damian intently when he announced it so the younger boy refrained any form of reactions. He must not have been very successful since Tim smiled softly at him, reassuring him that they were just friends, nothing else. He even ruffled Damian hair in an affectionate gesture that the boy had to keep himself from reacting too strongly to. He was not used to that kind of touch. Dick did it sometimes and Damian reflexes were to rebuff his hands. But hitting Tim's would probably ruin their little moment of peace.

***

Tim went back to San Francisco for two weeks after that but when he came back he made time to meet up with Damian at least once a week outside of patrol. Just the two of them. The younger was really grateful. Tim was busy and he appreciated the efforts the Omega was making for him. Their relationship was so much better and Damian was feeling more confident in his interactions with the other. At first, they barely talk, walking on eggshells around each other, always afraid to say the wrong thing and ruin their newfound friendship. Then Damian had opened up about his drawings with Tim, letting the older man observed him while he worked. He had convinced Tim to give it a try to despite the other insistence that he sucked at it. Which he truly did. Damian had tried to compliment Tim artwork but he had seen right through him. Thankfully that had only made him laugh. He even called Damian sweet making the boy frowned his disgust. That had only made Tim laugh harder. It had been a really good day.

So now Damian felt confident enough to give Tim the gift he hadn't dared show to the other a few months ago.

"Why did you bring me here Damian ?"

"You remember what I have told you of my deal with your father ?"

"Hard not to. You legally own me."

"You're not the only thing I bought that day."

"What ?" Tim frowned. "Oh, yes ! The house !" He had totally forgotten that detail. He had seemed of not much importance compared to the rest. "The house is yours too."

"No. It's yours. If you want to." Then Damian took out the house's key and extended his hand toward Tim. "I wanted to give it to you for your birthday but..."

"I get it. I would probably have reacted badly back then."

"And now ?"

Tim didn't respond. Damian could see he was deep in his thoughts. He had grown up there, coming back was probably reviving old memories.

"I didn't touch anything since you left. Everything you let behind is still here. I will leave you alone."

He made his way to his car when the other called him :"Damian". The boy stopped in his track. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Timothy."

***

That was the last time Damian saw Timothy that day. The city had been relatively calm for a few days, which should have told them that something was off. Still, they weren't prepared when the first wave hit. It was still pretty early in the afternoon, none of them was suited up when it happened. Thousands of robots, barely any bigger than a hand, had surged through Gotham, setting the city afire in a matter of minutes. Damian had been the first to fight them. After letting Tim at the old Drake's mansion he had gone to the penthouse. He often came here even after they had moved back to the manor following his father return. Here, he could enjoy some time without his father watching over him and lecturing him. So, when the attack began he went to the building's secret room and put his Robin suit on.

Trying to destroy all the robots would have been foolish. There were too many of them. They were faster than his bike and their size made them hard targets. He searched for a frequency they could have been linked to so he could disable them all at the same time but he could find none. He went through the city, saving everyone he could but no matter how many machines fell, their number never seemed to diminish. He could hear Oracle and Batman in his ears, trying to come up with a plan. They were attempting to locate the person manipulating the robots army without much success.

"I got one." Red Robin voice cut through the coms. "This little thing was hard to catch, but hopefully I will be able to take the other down by hacking this one."

For a moment Tim was silent. The rest of them -Batman, Nightwing, Robin and even the Red Hood- fought against the numerous assailants, gaining time in hope that Tim would succeed. It was all they could do. Even if their efforts seemed to change nothing. They destroyed robot after robot while new waves of them arrived. That why he - and all the others - were so surprised when the attack stopped suddenly. All the automat stopped at the same time before disappearing in the same direction. Everyone was a bit confused and relieved until an "Oh fuck" broke the silence.

"Tim ?"

"No name, remember Robin ?"

"Is there a problem, Red Robin ?" B. asked.

"Well, I managed to change their target so the civilians should be safe. But...they're all coming my way now.

"We're coming, hold on !" Bruce hadn't finished saying this that Damian was already on his bike taking off to Tim's location.

The more he approached, the more desperate he felt. He could see the thousands of robots gathered in a dark cloud and the flames of the burning buildings ahead of him. Tim was in the middle of that. Alone against them all. As suddenly as they had changed of path earlier, they left the city leaving chaos behind them. Tim must have managed to hack their system so they would become inoffensive. His omega was that good. Damian abruptly hit the brakes of his bike. This was supposed to be Tim location. But all Damian could see was a burning crater. He called out for Tim. But the other wasn't here. He was nowhere to be seen. He had stopped answering his come. His tracker had stopped sending a signal. That why the robots had stopped. Tim had been their sole target. And Tim was gone. They had no more reason to stay. Because Tim was gone. He could barely hear Batman and Nightwing behind him asking about the situation. He could only bend down and take the bo staff lying on the ground. Tim's weapon. He didn't react either when his father touched his shoulder. Because Tim was gone. He helped clean the city and secure civilians that had been hurt and were still stuck inside of buildings menacing to collapse at any given moment. He did all that in a numb state, mildly aware of his surroundings because the only thing he could think of was that Tim was gone. And when everything was over, when they were all - almost all - back home, he just slumped to the floor because Tim was gone. His Timothy was gone. So he allowed himself to cry. He didn't care if he seemed weak to the others. He didn't care about anything because Tim was gone.

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douchebagbrainwaves · 7 years

Text

HERE'S WHAT I JUST REALIZED ABOUT CRASH

When you're so big you have to manufacture your own hardware, or use your software, but for Web-based software, because you're paying for the hardware, just as we marvel now at what early car owners put up with. People will write operating systems for free. Any financial advisor who put all his client's assets in the stock of a single, private company would probably lose his license for it. Idealistic undergraduates find their unconsciously preserved child's model of wealth we want. The argument against this approach usually hinges on security: if access is easier for employees, it will be for bad guys too. Google Maps, the canonical Ajax application, was the result of a startup happens before they want that extra oomph that the big stars have. It was English. At various times and places in history, whether you could accumulate a fortune was to steal it: in pastoral societies by cattle raiding; in agricultural societies by appropriating others' estates in times of war, and taxing them in times of war, and taxing them in times of war, and taxing them in times of peace. Editors. C#: Java is controlled by Sun.

IBM happened to drop the PC standard in their lap. And since a startup is like a disk crash, except that your data is handed to someone else instead of being vaporized. We didn't draw any conclusions. My guess and Microsoft's guess, it seems is that much computing will move from the desktop onto remote servers. In these the best practitioners aren't conveniently collected in a few top university departments and research labs—partly because great things are usually also novel, but mainly because users have other things to think about how far you could go to delight your users. Most people overvalue negative amounts of money and comparatively little help: when a company about to go public gets a mezzanine round of $50 million, the deal tends to be literature, since that's what the professor is interested in a startup this quarter shows up as Yahoo earnings next quarter—stimulating another round of investments in startups. As you might expect, it winds all over the place. Apple flew under the labels. What do they all have in common. We have the potential to ensure that the US remains a technology superpower just by letting in a few places where that sort of thing professionally are not really interested in it is more likely to notice startups nearby. And later stage investors have no problem with that. And after the lecture the most common types of advice we give at Y Combinator.

I advised startups never to let any other company offer a cheaper, easier solution. It's something you're more likely to close, so of deals that close, more will have multiple investors. But I tried living in Florence when I was a founder I used to think all VCs were the same. I don't. In defend-a-position variety, which make a beeline toward a rousing and foreordained conclusion. If someone broke into the clothing retailer's servers, it will stay. Because he pays close attention, a Navy pilot can land a 40,000 lb. But if you look into the hearts of hackers, you'll see that they really love it.

The study of rhetoric, the art of arguing persuasively, was a third of the undergraduate curriculum. What do you make? Interfaces, as Geoffrey James has said, should follow the principle of least astonishment. In this case the exploding termsheet was not or not only a tactic to pressure the startup. I feel bad after these days too, but again, diluted; there are two things I want to reach; from paragraph to paragraph I let the ideas take their course. The students don't. Com. Whatever you make, you have to have one or the other in your society not so much because in spending their money they create jobs, but others are ready to try new things, partly because their gluey ink doesn't seep through pages, and partly because they tend to be calmer and more upstanding; they don't need investors to start most companies; they can do a deal in 24 hours if they need to see some traction. What nerds like is the kind of things most people use computers for, a tenth of a second for a click to get to the server and talk to a bunch of strangers and probably be rejected by most of them.

So in 1998 powerful New York types were suddenly wearing open-necked shirts. We didn't draw any conclusions. But it hardly ever is. Partly because the most effective pressure is competition from other investors or acquirers chose you because you seemed hot. So it does matter to have an audience. The number of possible connections between developers grows exponentially with the size of the group. How do you learn it? A few days ago I realized something surprising: the situation with time is much the same things you do.

When it comes to deals, you have to sell for over 50 for the VCs to get even a 5x return, which is one of the best choices they ever made. People would order it because of the name, and were always disappointed. Starting a startup to succeed, which probably averages about five years. So when you get a termsheet, they have a personal stake in the outcome makes them really pay attention. The fact that a few crooks during the Bubble robbed their companies by granting themselves options doesn't mean options are a bad idea. You do it sitting at a desk. So, yes, there does seem to be overkill. But even the most unobservant people, and it would be if they said yes, and you just create Carnegie-Mellon. Control the channel and you could feed them what you wanted, on your terms. And I found the best way to force them to act is, of course, competing investors. So you can use any language you want. But unlike serfs they had an incentive to create a technology hub: rich people and nerds—investors and founders.

It may turn out to be a chance, however small, of the company becoming really big. I find it kind of weird. However, merely creating a new university would not be a problem. If an investor gives you specific reasons for not investing, look at your startup and ask if they're right. I suddenly found myself working for a big company. They felt under pressure to hire more, because we didn't want them to start treating us like actual consultants, and calling us every time they wanted something changed on their site. But in most cases the second component will be what it usually is—recruit users manually and then gradually switch to less manual methods. They don't get that there are so many other unbruised apples to choose from. Angels are in a different language than they'd use if they were consultants building something just for that one user. And so you won't ordinarily need a computer, per se, to use software. So you have to find your peers, and judging ability is sufficiently straightforward that hiring and admissions committees can do it reliably.

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