Oh, Molduous Me..... [OTA]

[abrightboy]

Who: Moldy!Malcolm Bright and YOU.
When: During the time of the moldening.
Where: All over, but especially B1, local coffee shops and ADI
Summary: Malcolm has succumbed to the mold and he feels GREAT, if a little itchy on his left side, just under his ribs.
Warnings: Aggressive attempts at friendship, mold, the worm game.


Malcolm doesn't know what this stuff is on his left side just below his ribs. Maybe he'll get it checked out at some point; it's a little bit itchy. But not right now. He has things to do. Like BE YOUR FRIEND.

OTA
He's been in his room most of the day, after a stop at the craft store. He's made a whole bunch of friendship bracelets in different colours.

He immediately gives one to each of his roommates, Tim and Meredith, and he's got one in his pocket earmarked for Neal. And he thinks he would quite like to give one to Jeff. He's put two aside for Gil.

You know, he'll just put all the ones he hasn't given out yet in his pockets. Just in case. People have been nice here. Maybe, unlike at school, they will want to be Best Friends Forever!

Tim Drake
Malcolm does knock, but he then walks right in to Tim's room without waiting for a response. That should be a red flag on its own, but he's smiling broadly, too.

"Hey Buddy! I have a present for you. What are you working on?" he asks curiously, casting around in his pocket.

Meredith Idlewild
Malcolm finds her in the kitchen in the morning. He grins.

"Mere!" He fishes around in his pocket. "Making something to eat? You should definitely have something to eat; you always make sure we have stuff to eat."

Neal Caffrey
Malcolm texts him. Neal. Meet me at the cafe down the street from ADI?

Comments

[abrightboy]

“My phone? Sure. Do you need to call someone?” He hands it over with barely a glance at it. “You know Jeff was saying we should have a holiday get together all… together. Are you still seeing each other? Do you need a wing man with the mistletoe? I can make that happen.”

[ployboy]

"No," he answers and immediately feels like a giant toddler because of it. His new favorite word, right? He takes the phone and, even if it did lock, he makes quick work of getting to the folder he needs. His fingers just hover over the screen when Malcolm brings up Jeff. "No." --there we go again.

"I... haven't caught up with him."

He should at least ask if Jeff had taken it well, being the subject of wannabe humorous prose. Instead he asks, "Did you read Reyes' notification? He should have sent it out to everyone."

[abrightboy]

“I don’t know; is that, like, an email or something? Are you saying you don’t want to get together for Christmas? Christmas is more important than Thanksgiving for families. Spend it with us,” Malcolm implores.

cw itty bitty discussion of illness

[ployboy]

In true familial nature:

god damn had he forgotten how annoying that sort of needling can be.

"I didn't say that," Tim hisses. He needs to sheath his claws. His focus shifts entirely to the phone in his hand. And if the quick and practiced movements of his hand don't quite match up with the source file of the Worm app

(dang, that's a lot of hours logged into play. he hadn't thought malcolm would ever be so obsessive.)

which is prompted to delete... well, that's less of a problem for Tim than if Malcolm has, y'know. Mold.

Tim debates with himself for all of four seconds before he offers back the (Hermy-less) phone to Bright. "Don't worry about it. Don't check your phone until you do this one favor for me, okay?"

In true familial fashion, Tim Drake hasn't quite forgotten how to play up the Little Brother card. His eyes meet Malcolm's, imploring. "Please? Have you noticed anything... purple on your skin? I really need to know. I'm-- delicate. With like, anything that could be contagious, so it's important for me to know that."

[abrightboy]

“Purple?” He considers it. “I have a bit of a rash on my side. I guess it’s kind of purple.”

[ployboy]

--gross.

"Which side?"

If he steps even closer, well, it's sure not out of sheer curiosity.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looks at him oddly.

“I thought getting close to contagious things was dangerous for you,” he points out, stepping back. “It’s covered. It’ll probably go away in a couple of days.”

[ployboy]

Why does Malcolm do that. That thing where he remembers. Tim holds his hands up in surrender and-or full understanding. He nods. "Yeah. It is. Have you considered a trip down to Medical, though? To get it checked out?"

[abrightboy]

“I might head down if it doesn’t go away in a day or two.” He shrugs. “I’m busy today. I have to deliver these bracelets to Meredith and Neal and Gil,” he explains.

[ployboy]

"Yeah, alright." Tim lowers his hands to his sides, defeated for now. There's still a part of him, a part that's dangerously close to bubbling to the surface, that crawls with the need to reciprocate-- to hug Malcolm, just tell him his thanks. Tell the guy that he's enough. He's enough, and he's good, even without his giving. But his giving just further shows he just... ugh, family, right? Malcom would make good family.

Tim's a son of a bitch though. He is now, anyway.

He doesn't feel much when Malcolm's phone begins to ring, the same contact name Malcolm used for Neal Caffrey now onscreen.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm blinks at the display in surprise, then quickly answers.

“Neal?”

cw mild.... violence

[ployboy]

For a moment there's a muffled, small noise from Tim's pocket. Such happens when someone dials a number and never retrieves their phone from said pocket. The minute he'd had Malcolm's phone had been ample time to shuffle a contact name. The result? Kind of neat, if Tim ever stopped to think about it: he can control so much without ever moving a finger.

Unfortunately, a sleeper hold requires touch.

A lot of it.

And Tim's trained, and wound as if on springs. Being the same height as Bright is proving to be a small blessing, his arms wrapped around and securing the man with the ease a lifetime of violence brings. "Don't freak," Tim stupidly pleads, boyishness creeping into his voice.

To do list:
• wait for bright to pass out
• call ?? to take him to medical
• ensure bright stays out
• think of a good excuse for making bright pass out

[abrightboy]

Malcolm drops his phone and he chokes for a moment, but then his own training and practice take over and he drops his weight before shifting to shoulder Tim into the desk in a bid to loosen his grip.

[ployboy]

Nope. Nope. Tim's not made for brawls the way Bruce is. The way Jason is. Tim's had to fight, had to struggle to earn his keep, to know what he does. "I told you not-- to freak," he tries again, voice strained with effort.

Myth: getting someone to pass out is easy.

Fact: Tim takes the slam, desk pressing horribly against his side. But he's a son of a bitch, remember? A real son of a... bat. Joker had christened him as a pint-sized pain in the ass. Malcolm's going to get to find out why, his hold, uh... holding. And then maybe Tim can runaway from B1 once and for all. Give them peace. And quiet.

"I'm... gonna get you to the clinic. Alright? They... just want to take care... of that thing. Growing in you. I-- I'm so sorry."

[abrightboy]

What thing? What is Tim talking about? What is Tim doing? Is this really Tim? Tim wouldn’t try to kill him.

As a student of the fatal arts, Malcolm knows he has minutes - at best - before he loses consciousness. Then it’s over. So he casts around the desk blindly for anything even a little bit sharp - a pencil, a pen, a drinking glass - anything he can find that he can stab into Not!Tim’s leg. Is he panicking? Yes. Is he used to functioning in that state? Also yes. But if his desperate grappling yields nothing, he’ll slump unconscious in Tim’s grasp moments later.

[ployboy]

And that's the story of how Tim gets a pencil stabbed into his fucking leg.

It probably says something that he first thinks about that dreaded, eternal embedded pencil lead dot that all schoolboys hold as a badge of honor. Now he's going to have two. The next thought is pain. It hurts. Getting stabbed hurts. News at eleven. And it hurts worse because maybe he hadn't thought Malcolm would ever

Serves him right. Analyze all outcomes-- all of them, not just the ones he felt good about. Tim cries out a curse, flexes his arms instinctively but he can't hurt Malcolm, he won't. He just needs the blood flow to

"It's okay."

Jerk is going to feel about it later. He just knows it.

(Maybe not, though. It's not like he didn't deserve it.)

"It's okay. The people at medical will-- help you. Okay? I'm sorry."

(He almost can't believe he got stabbed with a pencil. He does believe it though. It fucking burns.)

[abrightboy]

Malcolm Bright has stabbed his own father twice in the last year and a half and said psycho murderer was only trying to kill him one of those times. But he will feel bad for stabbing Tim. Once he understands that it was Tim and that Tim wasn’t trying to actually kill him.

As it stands, the stabbing was his last play and he has regrets as he slips out of consciousness. Though, in that moment, not a single stabbing is one of them.