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actuallybarb · 15 hours ago

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The Things You Say

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Summary: Jason yearning for a nerdy girl who constantly talks about her new books or new science inventions, he doesn't understand shit and they have to look stuff up constantly trying to keep up with her

requests are open

dividers by @cafekitsune

Jason knew pain. He knew the taste of blood and the sound of a heart flatlining. He knew what it was like to dig his way out of a grave with his bare hands, lungs full of dirt and rage. He knew war. Loss. Fire.

But none of that prepared him for the experience of falling for someone like you.

He also knew two things for certain:

One: he was not, and never would be, a science guy.

Two: he was completely, helplessly in love with the weird girl who never stopped talking about subatomic particles like they were fairy tales.

He met her in a bookstore, because of course he did. Gotham’s oldest secondhand shop, tucked between a closed-down deli and a tattoo parlor. She was in the nonfiction aisle, holding a hardcover titled Quantum Entanglement and the Fabric of the Cosmos, murmuring to herself while frowning at the margins.

Jason should’ve walked away. Should’ve grabbed his Hemingway and gone.

But instead he found himself saying, “Is that English?”

She looked up.

Big glasses. Hair half-up, half-falling. A tiny scowl, like he’d just insulted her childhood dog. “It’s physics.”

He blinked. “I gathered. Still looks like math’s evil cousin.”

That got a laugh. Or something like it. A half-smile, crooked and unsure, like she didn’t laugh often and wasn’t sure she should now.

Jason tilted his head. “You work with this stuff?”

“I study it.” She pushed the book against her chest. “I’m trying to understand quantum coherence in biological systems. Mostly theoretical. I bore people.”

“I don’t mind theory,” Jason said, which was a lie, but a nice one.

She stared at him for a long second. “You’re trying to flirt with me.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “How am I doing?”

“Terribly.”

He grinned. “You want coffee?”

She hesitated.

“Not a date,” he added quickly. “Just... if you want someone to listen while you explain quantum thingies.”

“Quantum thingies,” she repeated. “Tempting.”

It was supposed to be one coffee. It turned into four. Then dinner. Then late-night texts, where she sent him screenshots of new studies and he replied with bad memes and pictures of books she’d made him read.

Jason wasn’t used to this—whatever this was. There was no game here. No dramatics. Just this girl with a constellation of freckles and a mouth that moved too fast when she got excited.

She’d sit cross-legged on his couch, hair up, socks mismatched, spouting things like:

“Did you know cephalopods can edit their own RNA in real time?”

Jason, who was halfway through re-reading The Count of Monte Cristo, would look up and go, “Cepha-what?”

“Octopus brains. They’re insane.”

He had a notes app. No joke. It read:

Quarks (ask which one is the cute one)

Octopus RNA = science magic

Don’t say atoms are tiny planets—she hates that

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to understand. He did. Desperately. Because her eyes lit up like stars when she talked, and Jason wanted to know what it was like to hold a universe like that in his head.

Because you talked about neutrinos over coffee. Neutrinos. Subatomic particles. And you said it with a smile like it was common small talk, like most people spent Sunday mornings curled up reading quantum mechanics papers instead of the funnies.

Jason pretended to get it. He even nodded sagely.

He did not get it.

"They're fascinating," you said once, feet tucked under you on his old beat-up couch, eyes lit like they held galaxies. "Like these ghosts of matter. They pass through everything, almost impossible to catch. It's like trying to bottle a secret."

"Uh-huh," Jason said, staring at your lips. Not because he was being disrespectful. But because they moved when you talked, and sometimes he understood those more than your words.

He googled them later. Spent two hours falling down a scientific rabbit hole so steep he got a headache, just so he could maybe ask the right question next time. So he could deserve to be in the same room as your mind.

You never made him feel stupid.

You never made him feel like he had to prove himself. But Jason was built of sharp edges and pride. He came from alleys, from blood-streaked streets and textbooks that were ten years too late. You were made of stardust and curiosity, of words that leapt like fire from your tongue.

He wanted to meet you there.

So he read. And re-read. Fell asleep listening to science podcasts he barely understood. Texted Tim questions like, “What the hell is a muon?” and got responses like, “Why are you asking me this at 2AM?”

You were working on something new. Something about microfluidics, which sounded made-up but wasn't. Your whiteboard was filled with squiggles and Greek letters, and Jason stood behind you one afternoon just... watching.

"You know," he said finally, leaning a shoulder against your wall, "I'm starting to think you might be the smart one in this relationship."

You turned, brow quirked. "Only just starting?"

Jason laughed. It cracked something open in him. "You know what I mean."

"I do," you said, crossing to him. You had ink on your fingers. Pen behind your ear. Your shirt was inside out. Jason thought you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "But I'm not in love with me. You are."

He blinked.

You kissed his cheek, then went back to your board, humming. As if you hadn't just sent his soul straight out of his body.

Jason spent that night learning about laminar flow.

Sometimes, you talked so fast you forgot to breathe. You’d get this wild look in your eyes, like the whole universe was cracking open and only you could see it.

Jason lived for that look.

You told him about CRISPR once, gesturing wildly with a fork in a shitty diner, eggs going cold.

"It’s gene editing," you said. "Like molecular scissors! You can cut DNA—literally edit life. Isn’t that insane?"

Jason chewed his toast. Nodded. Took a mental note to google "molecular scissors" the second you hit the bathroom.

He didn’t get it. Not really.

But he loved how your face lit up. Like discovering was your religion and you were halfway to ascension.

He wanted to believe in something like that.

The problem, of course, was that he kept falling harder.

It hit him slow at first—like rain soaking into the collar of your coat. He’d look up in the middle of a lecture she didn’t know she was giving and realize he hadn’t heard a word.

Because she was smiling. Because she was alive in that moment in a way that made the world blur.

And then one night it hit him all at once.

They were on his fire escape, watching the sky turn blue-black over Gotham. She had her legs pulled up to her chest, hoodie sleeves covering her hands, talking about something called CRISPR and how gene editing could eventually reverse certain degenerative conditions.

Jason lit a cigarette. Didn’t smoke it. Just let it sit in his hand.

“You ever wonder,” he said, “how you ended up where you are?”

She blinked. “All the time.”

“I used to think I was supposed to be something. Like... some big cosmic screw-up happened and I got turned into this.” He gestured vaguely. “A walking wreckage.”

“You’re not a wreck.”

Jason didn’t answer. Just watched her through the smoke.

“You read the books I send,” she whispered. “You ask questions. You try. That’s more than most.”

He looked away. “You make me want to try.”

She leaned into his shoulder, quiet.

That night he dreamed she was stardust and he was gravity. Always falling toward her.

Jason didn’t call it love. He didn’t know if he deserved to.

But he was the one who brought her soup when she got sick, even if he burned the rice.

He was the one who asked her to explain particle spin six times and still got it wrong.

He was the one who, during one of her meltdowns about failing a grant application, cupped her face and said, “You’re brilliant. If the world can’t see it, that’s not your fault.”

She cried into his shoulder for an hour.

One night, you fell asleep with your notes scattered across his bed. Jason gathered them carefully, reading snatches as he did.

"Theoretical modeling of fluid behavior in low-gravity environments..."

He smiled.

You’d joked once that you were building something for NASA. He wasn’t sure if you were actually joking.

He sat beside you, brushing hair from your forehead. You sighed in your sleep.

Jason Todd, child of Gotham's gutters, held your research like it was sacred.

He didn’t understand the math. But he understood what it meant to love something so fiercely you stayed up nights chasing it.

He understood what it meant to chase you.

It wasn’t easy.

You didn’t always get his silences. His scars. The way he sometimes drifted mid-conversation, haunted by a past he couldn’t shut up.

But you waited.

You asked.

You never made him feel like a puzzle to be solved. Just a story worth reading slowly.

One day he caught you reading War and Peace. Not for class. Not for work. Just... because.

"You know that’s, like, a thousand pages, right?"

"Only 1,225," you replied without looking up. "You should try it."

Jason chuckled. "You trying to turn me into a nerd, sweetheart?"

You looked at him then, all sharp eyes and soft affection. "You already are. You just don’t know it yet."

When you said "I love you," it was after explaining something about black holes.

Jason had no idea how you got from "gravitational collapse" to "I love you," but he wasn’t complaining.

He’d spent so long being angry. Being alone. Being something sharp and armored.

You cracked through it all with equations and post-it notes, with quiet mornings and whispered facts about tardigrades.

You made him laugh. Think. Google shit.

You made him feel.

He didn’t always understand what you said. He never fully grasped string theory.

But he learned her favorite coffee order, and the way she curled her toes when she was focused, and how to tell when her anxiety was starting to spiral.

He learned how to love her without needing to understand every atom.

Because she made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t a cosmic mistake after all.

He was just a man. With a girl. And a heart that beat a little faster every time she said, “Hey Jay, guess what I learned today?”

And that?

That he understood perfectly.

And that was enough.

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actuallybarb · 15 hours ago

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As much as I hate it part of me wants a fic with ex-military Jason just because the idea of Jason Peter Todd with dog tags on is really making my brain blue screen

Soldiers don't die for their country. They just die.

And Jason wished he'd known that when he was 17. As bad as things were when he was with the league- Basic was worse. They'd torn him apart. Taught hate instead of pragmatism. And some how, of all the things he'd ever done, it was his time serving he regretted most.

He took a drag off his cigarette and exhaled slowly.

Not least of all because it left him too broken to rejoin "the family business" as it were.

"What can I get you Sugar?" he said leaning on the bar.

"Got anything good on tap?" you ask, waving smoke out of your face. Not in a fussy way, too absent for that.

"Just the basics- we're not really a pumpkin spice IPA crowd," he said.

"Got Guinness?"

"Sure," he said, pulling a glass. "Kitchen's closed but-"

"Just a beer, thanks," you tell him, handing him a crisp $20.

"Rough night?" You looked like you'd been through it.

"Seen worse."

He nodded, noting the fading bruises with narrowed eyes. Running- likely. it looked like that shirt was a day or two old. And as you curled around your glass and took a sip, his hand closed around the dog tags he still wore. Worrying the cool metal between his fingers. He recognized another soldier when he saw one. Even if you were fighting a war you never asked for.

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actuallybarb · 1 day ago

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Do you ever think that Dooku decided to train Qui-gon, despite his exentricities, despite their differences, and despite the fact that he was already being led to the darkside, because Qui-gon was the last example Dooku saw of what he wanted the jedi to be?

Do you think Qui-gon was Dooku's last hope in having faith in the order that raised him?

Do you think that Qui-gon became such a shining example of all the good moral helpful and selfless ways a jedu should serve the galaxy at least in part because Dooku wanted to beleive it was possible. That he taught Qui-gon to be good wven when he himself was going bad because he needed to believe that there was anyone left that could be good. Could be true. And wise and kind.

Do you think that his final fall to the darkside had more to do with his own darkness killing the last spark of hope he saw in the galaxy more than it had to do with his dislike for the jedi?

Do you think he blamed himself for Qui-gon's death and that is what he believes made him truly unredeamable?

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actuallybarb · 1 day ago

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Drive

youtube

Ahsoka wasn't allowed to sit in the passenger seat. Even when Rex wasn't occupying it as he currently was, she was always stuck on the bench in the back of the Twilight. Anakin was still convinced she'd slam into some controls during some evasive maneuver and leave him scrambling to compensate.

She huffed and crossed her arms in annoyance every time. And usually spent the flight complaining loudly to R2. Not today though.

She was injured. Not too badly. But enough to take the wind out of her sails. The bandages covering her exposed skin kept her mostly still, even in the even flight of hyper space.

Maybe in pity or maybe in reward, Anakin had let Ahsoka pick the music he simply had to have playing lowly through the flight console. On the stipulation that it was something they could all enjoy.

The music reflected her mood. Subdued and low. Crooning male singers with string instruments accompanying them. Rex didn't care for music as much as some of his vod.

He liked singing when he was in a group. When it accompanied dancing or drinking. When it was loud enough to drown out the verd at 79s. But he didn't feel the need to fill the silence with it.

Anakin did. He needed something to listen to when he piloted or worked with his hands. And Ahsoka liked it. Often having something playing softly when she sat down to do her temple work.

He rarely paid much attention to the lyrics. Half the time they were in a language he didn't recognize or they were overly poetic sugary nonsense.

But when her head tipped back, a wince in her brows from the stretch of her shoulder, and her mouth fell open, he expected a sound of pain. That's not what he heard.

There was a soft reverberating sound coming from deep in her chest, almost a purr but with too much voice in it. It pitched with the voice coming from the console. Raising and falling in tandem.

A sound like longing and trepidation. But soothing as well. Soft and firm.

And then words formed on the tip of her tongue. Too drawn to really be spoken. Like they were really forming deep in her chest before they ever reached her vocal cords. Like it was bubbling up slowly. Taking great effort for her to get out.

The words became more solid. Still soft, still quiet.

They were a promise.

He didn't need the force to read the emotion behind them. He could feel it. The resolve, in the face of fear. The assertion of control, like getting unsteady feet back underneath yourself. Like the promise laced with blood on so many other verd's lips.

"it's a good day for someone else to die." He'd heard it a hundred times. The mando'a butchered and remade by thousands of unworthy tongues. Until it meant something else to them.

The same thing that these words, hummed so soothingly meant to Ahsoka. "I'll be there."

It passes through the air soft as a whisper. Sweeter than the male singer could ever have said it.

He can't help the bolt of feeling that carves through him. It feels wrong in such a tender moment, to have his heart try to leap out of his chestplate. He takes a breath and tries to push the sting away.

Anakin casts him a look from the corner of his eye. It looks like mischeif and fondness.

Both of his jedi smile the same smile though neither are looking at each other.

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actuallybarb · 2 days ago

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Blossoms in Winter: Four

Your apartment wasn't much but it was yours.

Above a cafe in an old building- it smelled like coffee and mouse fur no matter how much incense you burnt or weed you smoked. Dust lay over everything no matter how many times you dusted- a consequence you guessed of the magic. It was the energy. It was attracted to it.

Dust motes drifted through the air lazily. Bathed in glorious neon. Like filthy glitter. Coating your books and papers. Clinging to your throw pillows and the quilt you rescued from a thrift store before some "upcycler" could hack it apart and sew it to a hoodie for a tik tok.

You watched for a moment and just let the quiet wash over you. Not silence. Cities were never silent. Ever. But for now the quiet was enough. It helped. It was something you'd had precious little of since... well. Since your mother's family had thrown you onto John Constantine's doorstep. Your father- allegedly.

Allegedly. You wished anyway. The blood ties didn't lie. They'd have never been able to leave you with him if not for that.

Complicated was what you told Jason but- complicated was an understatment. Love and resentment that bordered on hate. But it couldn't be hate because- somewhere where was an understanding. John was a bastard. He was a fucking prick. But at the end of the day... he was still the only parent you'd ever had. Your mother was gone and never wanted you. Her family- well. They'd cast you out as "tainted". And no one would have really blamed Constantine if he did the same. No one would have thought less of him.

But he took you anyway.

Trained you. Had Zatanna teach you.

So.

Yeah. Complcated was an understatment. But atleast... atleast that you didn't have to explain to some people. Like Jason. Or Zatanna.

You sprawled on the couch and just watched the dust in the shifting light. Trying not to think. Trying just to exist in this moment without wandering forward or back in your mind. But. All you can think about if the past tonight and it's making you melancholy.

You sigh and give up on your quiet, reaching for the remote. If your thoughts won't settle on your own, you'll settle them. Probably with a stupid documentary.

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actuallybarb · 3 days ago

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Between Love and Nothing: Eleven

Logan could hear it. And he huffed to himself. You were doing all the work. All that stupid little kid had to do was enjoy the ride. And he was. He was practically incoherent.

"Shame on you," he snorted. You were ruining him for anyone else and it was probably only the 5th or 6th time he ever got his way with a girl in a bar- not realizing the only reason it worked with you is that you were bored.

He could say you were cruel but- he didn't think it was intentional. You gave them a good time no one else could measure up to- and then sent them on their merry way leaving them wanting you... forever. Not realizing how long forever really was.

Snuffing his cigar out on his hand, he went back inside to nurse more whiskey than he should. He didn't know why. Why it mattered what you looked like when you walked in. He knew you didn't love him. But when you breezed back through the door with kiss swollen lips, reeking of another man- looking like nothing happened he breathed a sigh of relief. Even as he wanted to ask you what the fuck was wrong with you.

"Worth it?" he asked, watching you sip your cocktail contentedly.

"Ladies don't kiss and tell, Mr. Howlett," you respond.

"Ladies don't fuck in cars," he groused, raising an eyebrow.

You shrug and drift away, no more to tell him. And Logan half turned to watch you go. You're so nonchalant. It makes him want to shake you. He signaled the bartender and nodded his thanks as the man refilled his drink.

"Broke the mold with that one, huh?" he asked, jerking his head towards you.

"You got no idea, bub," Logan snorted.

"She came in here, batted her eyes and asked me for a cocktail I'd never heard of the first time I saw her," he chuckled. "If I didn't know better I'd think she was Capone's girl or some shit... Then set at the end of the bar and waited for me to light her cigarette."

Logan chuckled, wondering if you were just fucking with him on a slow night- but. That was one way to get good service. And get the guy to always remember your orders. "She's just... like that some times," he said.

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actuallybarb · 3 days ago

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Old Sweatpants

Pairing: Jason Todd x reader

Warnings: fem reader, blood, medical care (probably incorrect too 😁), suggestive joke but nothing explicit, language but not terrible

Summary: Jason gets injured on patrol and needs to be stitched up at your apartment. A pair of men's sweatpants living in the back of your closet stirs up his jealousy and leads to him telling you how he feels.

Word Count: 3075

Amazing art by @ciricearts !!! Specific work here

It started with you dragging Jason into your apartment through the fireescape. He's dead weight on your shoulder and you pull him through the window and heave him onto the couch. You were pissed with him, and he was infatuated with you. Jason had been stupid; reckless really. The two of you were saving a group of 20 somethings from a group of muggers who were eager to take whatever they could from the drunk party goers. You didn't understand why anyone wouldn't be sober at night in this city.

______________________________________________________________

Jason wasn't paying attention to the muggers as much as he should have when the two of you split through the group. The largest mugger was on the receiving end of a skull cracking take down from you. Apparently, Jason had been too busy watching you swinging your limbs around and drop kicking men twice your size to notice the youngest of the group pulling out a small revolver. Nervously, he pointed it at Jason and struggled to pull the hammer back. The moment that the leader hit the ground, you looked towards the bright red helment in leather that you knew was Jason, only to screech at him to move. He cocked his head to the side in confusion, still staring at you.

"Gun!" you yelled, getting up to tackle Jason out of the way.

A shot rang out. Wide eyed, you whirled your head around to see the young guy standing with the smoking gun, shaking and knees wobbling.

"I- I did it? I did it!" He almost jumped with joy, "Boss will be so happy with me and I can-"

You cut his celebration short by hurling a baton at him, hitting him square in the head and knocking him back cold. The gun clattered to the ground and you quickly took it into your possession incase someone woke back up.

"Call GCPD and don't leave until they show up." you sternly instructed the now very sober, and very scared group of young adults, "tell them to expect a firearm delivered to their ballistics department within 24 hours."

Quickly, you ran over to Jason, falling on your knees with rivulets of sweat running down your face. He was kneeled over, clutching his thigh as best he could.

"J- Hood!" You tore his hands from the wound to inspect, "You okay?" Your eyes were wildly scanning all over the torn fabric and dark blood pooling into your hands.

"Don't worry about me, Doll. Never been better." He winced

"What were you doing? You should have been paying attention!" Your voice was dripping with anger and laced with fear, "He's a street level thug who could hardly pull back the hammer, you should have seen him!"

"Got distracted" Jason tried to shrug his shoulders but missed the mark.

"You were staring, idiot." You shot him a glance, trying to shield his view from seeing the blush hazing on your cheeks.

"There was a show."

You mumbled something about him being an idiot under your breath and yanked out a tourniquet from your belt. The bullet hadn't done terrible damage, but he'd need stitches to keep it from bleeding heavily.

It was a miracle that you even got him to your apartment.

______________________________________________________________

"Y/N/N, I'm taking this thing off my leg." Jason loudly informed you as you dug through your bathroom cabinet to grab your medical kit.

"Jason Peter Todd, if you bleed all over my apartment I'll shoot you again!" You shouted back.

"Hey! There's no need for the full government name!" Jason watched as you speedily walked back to where he was sitting and opened up the kit, pulling out sewing needles and gause wrapped in plastic. He tilted his head and furrowed his brows in confusion when you suddenly stopped.

"I need to get your pants off." You almost choked out

Jason bit his cheek to hold back a loud laugh, "Well you're pretty upfront about what you want Y/N. Take me to dinner first though!"

You swatted his other leg, glaring up at him. Quickly, you helped Jason get out of his pants and saw the full wound gouged into his thigh. The two of you ignored the tension it created and awkard silence that the moment created. Quietly, you started disinfecting and stitching up his leg.

"You're lucky this didn't hit anything important." you muttered under your breath, concentration drowning out any other emotion

"It hit me" He joked, "Seems important enough."

"Not important enough for you to take care of apparently." You looked up at him suddenly a storm of emotion in your eyes, "Jason, you can't be so careless, you could have gotten seriously hurt."

"Didn't mean to worry you Doll." Jason's voice lost all of its comedy and turned serious.

"You're just a pretty view and all." He mumbled.

Your face became hot and you turned your gaze back to your work to pretend that you didn't hear what he just said. After a few more minutes of work, you stood up.

"I've got a pair of sweats in the closet that should fit you. Don't bust your stitches."

Jason's brain came to a violent and sudden hault at your words. What did you mean you had a pair of sweatpants that should fit him? Surely you didn't mean you were giving him sweatpants that you wore?

"Here ya go." You tossed the pants towards him and began heading towards the kitchen to make a snack.

Jason caught the sweatpants and stared at you, silent, and analyzing you intently. You could feel his silence seeping into your bones. It was like an infection slowly beating its way into your immune system and rendering it useless.

At the counter, you poured yourself a glass of water and glanced up at him, "You good?"

Jason nodded in response, still staying silent. The sweatpants fit. Why did you have men's sweatpants in your closet? You never wore them as far as he knew, they wouldn't fit. He didn't think you were seeing anyone, and definitely not sleeping with anyone. A bile rose up in his throat and his eyes became scratchy. His stomach cramped up and it felt like the room was beginning to spin.

"Whenever you get a chance, just give 'em back and I'll wash them." You were shoving your favorite post patrol snack in your mouth and giving him a pointed look.

His brain stopped again. You were planning on using these sweatpants for another time? For who?

"Want a snack?" You asked, analyzing his now stoic appearence.

He didn't respond.

"Yo, Jay. Snack?" You asked again.

"Oh- no. I'm fine. I'll bring these back later." Jason stood up and started for the window.

"Don't start putting stress on your leg too early. You can stay here as long as you need." You stressed.

Jason raised his hand to stop you, "Yea, I got it. Thanks."

"Want me to take you back to your place?" You starred at him, concerned.

"no it's fine. Thanks for the fix up."

"Anytime."

______________________________________________________________

Jason hopped out of your window and didn't talk to you for three days. You had messaged him a few times but he never responded. The night everything happened, he collasped onto his bed but couldn't fall asleep. He was angry, hurt, confused, and worst of all, it was pointed at you. The two of you weren't really anything official, but he thought the constant back and forth of flirtacious comments and intensly sensative late night conversations at his favorite gargoyle meant something. Jason felt stupid. Of course someone like you had someone. All of this must have been you being nice.

Three days after the entire ordeal, Dick was over at Jason's apartment and saw the pair of sweatpants hanging on a chair in the kitchen.

"Oh, did Y/N give you the complimentary sweatpants treatment?" Dick pointed and laughed

"What?" Jason whipped his head around and stared at his older brother in confusion.

"Those are my old sweatpants. They just stay at her apartment now since we-"

"You motherfucker!" Jason threw his body weight onto Dick and backed him into the wall with a loud thud, "I'm gonna beat the shit out of you!"

"Woah, woah! Chill dude!" Dick caught his breath again and stared at Jason in shock, "Holy shit, what's wrong with you?"

"You're fucking around with Y/N?" He spat, "You knew I liked her!"

"Huh?" Dick was bewildered and then it clicked.

Dick roared with laughter, tears falling down his face, "Oh dude, that's wild." "Y/N and I are not a thing! Never were, never have been."

Jason still didn't loosen his grip on Dick's shirt collar, "What's been going on then?"

Dick rolled his eyes, "I got stabbed and Y/N patched me up. She got a pair of sweats from the shop downstairs and ran them back upstairs so that I wasn't walking through Gotham in my underwear. I brought them back incase something happened again and now they're the designated injury sweatpants."

Jason starred at Dick, his gaze peircing through his skull, trying to find any hint of deceit.

"Everyone knows you two have a thing for each other. It's painfully obvious Jaybird." "You know she asked me about you. Apparently you haven't talked in three days?" Dick said, taking a sigh of relief when Jason finally put him down.

"what did she say?" Jason asked tentatively, eyes falling to the floor.

"She asked if you were alright. Apparently you kind of just walked out once she stitched you up- Jason- did you just stomp off without saying anything??" Dick went wide eyed at the realization.

"Maybe." Jason mumbled.

"Dude. You're an idiot." Dick said exasperatedly.

"I've been getting that a lot recently." Jason admitted, "I gotta go talk to Y/N."

"Uh yea, duh." Dick headed for the door, "Good luck little bro. If she throws you off a building, just know you were always my favorite!"

"Ha. Ha." Jason threw up his middle finger as Dick shut the door behind him.

He really hoped you weren't going to kill him.

______________________________________________________________

You were clacking away at your computer, chipping away at some work you needed to get done for a case. Your favorite drink was sitting next to your laptop, and you were trying not to focus on the fact that Jason was basically ghosting you. A day ago, you had decided you must have offended him at some point and now he was ignoring you. It was immature, really. You were mad that all of your attempts at extending an olive branch had fell through. After three days, you weren't even sure what you did wrong. The noises of your thoughts crept into your typing as you started writing out what you were thinking, and then with frustration, deleting the previous sentence. Your eyes shot up when you heard a faint knock at the door, and you shut the laptop and quietly headed for the door.

When you looked through the peephole, you saw the distorted shape of Jason standing in the hallway, head low and a nervous stance taking over his body. You huffed out quietly and swung open the door.

"Long time no see, Jaybirdy." You said, feigning a sweet voice, "Whatcha been up to recently?"

"Y/N/N, we need to talk." Jason looked at you carefully like he was waiting for you to combust

"You've got my sweatpants?" You raised a brow.

"oh, yea." Jason handed you the pair of sweatpants and you carefully looked them over for any blood stains.

Once you were satisfied, you stepped aside and beckoned him inside. You walked to the kitchen and opened up the fridge, taking out a small container and popping it open.

"You want some?" You asked.

"No. Thanks." Jason stood awkwardly and stared at you.

Irritated, you sighed, "Okay, what's this all about Jason?" You turned around and tossed the container back into the fridge and leaned onto the counter facing him again with a peircing gaze.

"I-uh- needed to apologize for walking out on you the other night. Wasn't cool." He stumbled through his apology.

You arched your brow and gave him a look saying "and"?

He caught the memo. "And not returning any of your texts... or calls." "Was being a dick."

Your shoulders dropped and you relaxed your stance, "Did I do something to offend you? You've never just walked out on me Jason, or ghosted me for that matter."

"No! No, not at all!" Jason raised his hands in front of him.

"Well? What was that all about?" Slight irritation glossed over your face and then disappeared again into an unreadable gaze.

"It's uh, kinda stupid." He stammered, "I thought you were dating someone."

"You what?" You pushed your head a little bit foward, showing that you didn't hear his quick mumbling.

"I thought you were dating someone!" He said finally.

Confusion was painting in your eyes, "Huh? Why?"

"Well, you handed me a pair of guy's sweatpants that actually fit like it was nothing and I didn't think it made sense that you just had them for yourself, so I just thought they were a boyfriend's or something." Jason explained, looking back at you for a reaction.

You shut your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, "Jay, I'm offended." A humorous smile graced your face.

Jason's heart skipped a few beats seeing it again.

"After all of this time; sitting with you; flirting with you, much to the dismay of everyone around us; talking for hours at your favorite gargoyle!" You laughed, needing a moment to regain your composure.

"Yea, I know." He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"I got those after Dick got stabbed so that he wasn't wandering around Gotham in his boxers!"

"Yea, I know. He just told me." Jason glanced awkardly at you, "Kinda thought you two were a thing for a second."

You fake gagged at the notion and began walking around the counter to where he was standing, "Never. Never, ever, ever." You grimaced, "No offense to him."

"Doubt he'd mind." Jason let out a breathy laugh, "He pointed out that we're apparently very obvious."

"Obvious about what?" You questioned his noncommittal comment, knowing what he was talking about. You wanted him to admit it.

Jason felt his cheeks heat up and his eyes widen for a second.

"Well, I uh- I guess about the flirting- and stuff. Ya know. We do that a lot apparently." He fumbled around the words, trying to find the least awkward response, and managing to make it the most awkward.

"Yea- and why do you flirt around with me?" You asked, starring a hole into his soul.

"well, I mean- I guess that's what you do when you uh- like someone?" He stammered, the blush on his cheeks becoming more vibrant.

"You like me?" You reiterated.

"I mean, yea Y/N/N. You're the only person I've ever cared about like this." He looked at you like he wasn't anticipating for those words to come out, "Shit- I- I hope that doesn't make it weird. I can just leave, you probably don't feel that way."

Jason turned around, ready to make a speedy retreat for the front door. Goosebumps painted his arms when he felt you grab his wrist and pull him back towards you. You didn't let go.

"Jason Peter Todd, don't walk out on me again." You said, pulling him close.

"Again with the government names, Y/N, I feel like I'm in trouble." His breath hitched and he looked into your eyes trying to discern what you were thinking.

"Don't run away from me and I won't need to Jaybird." You said softly, "I like you a lot too. Just wanted you to make a move."

Jason felt his throat close up and open again for him to take a breath. His knees went numb and a buzzing noise entered his mind and left as quickly as it came. He was short circuting in real time.

"You do?"

"Yeah dumby. I don't stay out on a gargoyle IN GOTHAM for anyone." You emphasized, "You- you're my best friend Jay. And not like friend zone best friend. You're my favorite person."

Jason didn't say anything, just stared at you with his mouth slightly ajar.

You signed and your voice went soft, a vulnerability seeping into your voice, "I was hurt when you just went away. I thought I did something to hurt you and it didn't seem like you wanted to let me fix anything."

Jason gripped your hand harder and grabbed the other one, "No Y/N. I'm sorry, I should have talked to you." "I hate the miscommunication trope and here we are."

Your laugh made him smile. It was his greatest achievement in life. All he wanted to do was be the reason that you were smiling, never the reason you were upset and doubting your value to him.

"It's alright Jay. Just talk to me, okay?" You gently traced your thumb over his hand.

"Okay." He nodded.

There was a silence that filled the room again.

"What do we do now?" You asked softly.

"You wanted me to make the first move, right?" He replied.

"I mean, yea, kinda." You shrugged looking into his eyes.

"Well-" Jason leaned down and threaded his hands through your hair before moving to hold the back of your head before kissing you like he had been waiting for it his entire life.

Your eyes were wide with shock before you shut them tight and threw your arms over his shoulders, pulling him in closer and running your fingers through his hair. He tried to pull back at one point, but you tugged on the soft curls and brought him back in. He moved his hands to your waist, backing you into the counter, and complied with the demand.

After a minute, your chest burned and you pulled back, Jason's arms still wrapped around you before he picked you up and sat you on the counter ledge. He stood between your legs and kept you close.

"What if I take you out?" He asked breathless.

"Only if it means you'll kiss me like that again." You answered.

"Anytime." Jason smirked, "and maybe we'll get some new sweatpants to leave in your closet. Ya know. Just incase."

"Just incase." You nodded with a smile.

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actuallybarb · 3 days ago

Text

The 501st were silent.

An unearving, hollow kind of silent.

It had been one month since Commander Tano's trial. And they'd finally returned to Coruscant.

They hadnt stayed on the ship as some vod had predicted. Neither were they filling the corners of 79s drinking their feelings away.

They'd all calmly filed into the baracks as the gunships landed. But once those doors had closed behind them. It was only silence.

They'd slept hard. Hard enough to look run over when theyd emerged the next morning. They filtered through the cori-mess hall. Ate their breakfast and donned their armor.

Then they left out into the streets. Organized units slread out across the planet marching with purpose.

The population of Coruscant was enough to swallow the entire legion. The mass of blue armror trickling through the veins of the planet like deoxagenated blood cells.

Thats sort of what they looked like. Like the air had been let out of them.

They swept across the levels. Filling train cars and airlifts. Walking down streets and back alleys. Sweeping greasy diners and cluttered shops.

But they didn't find what they were looking for.

If they'd asked, come to Fox or any of the men that patrolled this planet, theyd've told them that Ahsoka was gone. Left the same day as her trial.

She'd fled the planet. And hadn't been seen since.

Fox let them search. For three days he let them tread across the planet. Let their wandering feet lead them through their greif. Let them go through the motions.

Before he had to pull Rex aside.

He had to break it to him. Tell him that his vod'ika wasn't coming back.

Rex stood stock still, his bucket under one arm. His face was... wrong. It didn't look like Rex. He could have been any brother under that expression of greif. Whatever made Rex's face his own had drained out with the air, the greif.

He didnt acknowledge Fox's words. Didnt argue. Didnt protest. He just stood there. Looking for all the galaxy like there was nothing left in him.

Cody's hand landed on one scraped blue paldron. "We'll help you look Kih'vod."

It took a minute before he managed to turn enough lights on upstairs to turn and look at Cody. Even then all he offered was a nod. Before he turned back to his troops.

Troops in gold armor joined the search. Then gray. And reluctantly red too. All on their off hours. Their own time.

The citizens were giving them a wide berth. Staying in doors and closing their shops as the troopers decended on the planet.

Untik the streets were half empty except for men in white armor.

They never found anything. Not even a trace of her. But the searching was important. The collective of them. Walking miles for her. For each other. For their brothers.

Seraching for something much bigger than just the little commander.

Maybe peace or reassurance or even just releif. Or maybe seraching because its all they had left to do. All they could do when the war rose up in their throats this way.

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actuallybarb · 3 days ago

Text

Blossoms in Winter: Three

"Y/N!" Jason raced forward and dragged you out of the way. You follow. Unseeing. It's like dragging a doll. A mannequin. If it weren't for your chanting and the motion of your hands- he'd think you were dead. Wide unseeing eyes. So stiff. So cold.

Unphased by the chaos around you. The fire, gunshots, and rubble.

It made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. But as he watched- something was happening. It looked like it was working. Even as sweat beaded on your skin and blood pooled at the corners of your eyes.

"Jesus," he breathed. "What the fuck is happening to you?"

_____________________________________________________

Shades bothered him the most. The aimless spirits that had no purpose. They were like zombies. Shuffling and shambling along, until they weren't. Until something jogged their memory and they hungered. They'd pursue it until they achieved it or they were stopped; whatever happened first.

And Gotham was full of them.

He felt his lip curl and he redoubled his efforts to keep his vision focused. You'd told him it was probably like wearing bifocals or switching between day and night vision. And Jason found that pretty accurate.

You'd been working with him to help him learn to manage it. Trying to help him learn to use it since he crawled out of the pit. To stay grounded. To navigate having a foot in both worlds.

Today was hard.

It made him want to call you. To have you just talk to him. To anchor him to HERE. But he wasn't sliding into madness. He was just... annoyed. Stupid shades. He felt like he was tripping on them everywhere.

He couldn't even get a pack of smokes without seeing a line of them. Ragged sentries with their hands out. Moaning in his ears day and night. Ugh. You could turn it off. He envied you that. But- Should he call?

Was it clingy if he did? You told him to call if-

"No," he muttered. "She's probably working. I'll call tomorrow. She was just here."

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actuallybarb · 3 days ago

Text

Blossoms in Winter: Two

"Oi, hurry up," Constantine snapped.

You roll your eyes and flick your wrist, causing a coffee mug to fly off a desk and smash next to his shoulder without looking up and Bruce and Jason both blinked.

A year ago you would have nodded and apologized.

"If I rush this we could all die," you snap back.

"I'd like to not die," Jason added, holding up a finger. "At least not before I can legally drive."

"I was thinking drinking age," you mutter before taking a deep breath and shooting your father a withering look. The kind of unimpressed only a 14 year old girl can muster when she has absolutely HAD IT with being told what to do.

_______________

Jason put a beer on the table in front of you and rubbed his eyes. Grateful for the wards you put around his apartment. His head felt like it was his own again. "Productive day?"

You shrug, "It was okay. John and Zatana are on the outs again so-"

"So he's fucking anything that moves," Jason finished cringing.

"Don't knock it," you snort, taking a pull of your beer, "that's how I got here."

He chuckled and nodded, "Fair enough." He took a sip of his own beer and picked at the label. "He still pissed at you?"

"He's always pissed at me, at least a bit. Happens when you're a cocky bastard who's spawn is stronger than you."

"Such a bitch."

"Can't really blame him-"

"I can," Jason cut in, rolling his eyes.

Another shrug, "It has to sting. I got dropped in his lap to raise then-"

"Not like I'd call what he did raising you, really."

"He didn't beat me. Or call me any of his more beloved four letter words, so- there's that... It's complicated." You sigh and shake your head. Learning to deal in the world you dealt in with rules that could be concrete and abstract at the same time. Brutal and strange. Where both good and evil were magnified to extremes beyond most people's comprehension. It meant learning to be hard. And you'd learned that.

Jason nodded. Complicated he understood. He reached across the table and took your hand. "I'm sorry it was that way."

"It could have been worse," you tell him smiling a little. "At least I didn't die."

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actuallybarb · 3 days ago

Text

Blossoms in Winter: One

"Why is he so mean to her?"

"I don't know, Jaylad- I'll talk to him."

That exchange echoed in Bruce's mind now as he watched you stalk into the room. Wary and slightly uncanny. Too powerful for the skin you were in. The air fairly crackled around you- everything about you said Dangerous. Like a powerline down after a storm. Sharp movements.

It's a defense- at least partly. You didn't used to be so... hard.

He can remember you snickering at little jokes with Jason; they all can. But that's gone now. You're all business. Leather and specificity- without your father's arrogance and boasting. Straight to the point.

"Thank you, Y/N," he heard himself say, nodding when you finished, "can we count on-"

"Better than you can John, I suppose." you respond. You resume your seat, steepling your fingers and waiting. Eyes flickering from speaker to speaker. You don't interject. You only watch.

Are you fighting with John? Or are you just separating yourself from him? Trying to cut your own path- Zatana might know. As powerful as you are- Your eyes jerk towards his and narrow slightly, snapping him out of his thoughts.

It forces him to remember- Jason would be your age.

Once upon a time, it was his job to protect you on missions. You worked together. You were a team in ways no one else could be a team. And then you were alone. With no one but Constantine.

"Stop staring," Diana muttered, "It's creepier than normal."

"Just lost in thought," Batman muttered, watching you push away from the table.

"If she curses you-"

"Zatanna would undo it," Bruce snorted.

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actuallybarb · 4 days ago

Text

For Jesse, finding his footing within the 501st had been more of a challenge than it was for most soldiers. Maybe Kix was right, it was because he was thick headed and stubborn. Or maybe Cadaver was right about him having piss poor decision making skills.

It took him a little over a year to make the decision to stop standing in his own way and start acting like a respectable damn soldier. Motivated heavily by the prospect of not ending up under another vod's boot, he had no intention of digging the baren hole that his social status laid in any deeper.

That required moving up in rank. And that required making allies. Jesse was no stranger to hard work and mental exercise. But learning how to socialize, especially with vod that already held a poor opinion of him had been difficult.

But he had done it. Had won over Appo and Hardcase and even the ARCs. Had been recommended for further training on Kamino. Had earned his rank as an ARC and was currently on the fast track to moving into a higher leadership position.

He had grown, a lot. He hadn't become a different person overnight. The shinys still whispered about how surly he was. The bridge crew still gave him a healthy berth. But there wasn't anymore animosity.

That's why, staring down at Ahsoka's little shiny, curled up on the training mat in a puddle of his own sweat, trembling in his thighs. He felt an annoying spark of sympathy. He didn't understand the kid. Not really.

Jesse had always been self motivated. He could at least rely on that positive trait. Quick had none of that. He was soft. Undisciplined. Stagnant.

He was standing in his own way though. Jesse could see that. Hell, anyone looking could see that. Ahsoka was practically carting him around on a lift and he didn't have the good sense to realize what an exceptional opportunity that was.

The shiny was too stubborn for his own good.

And Jesse knew a thing or two about that.

With a deep, weary, sigh. Jesse planted his helmet back onto his head and toed took a step foreward.

"Can you walk?"

Quick hesitated, glances suspiciously up at Jesse from his reddened sweat burned eyes.

"You taking off with 'soka's shiny?" Fives asked.

"Yep," Jesse responded through the monotone of his helmet.

"I'll comm her." Vere said, backing away from where he'd been waiting for the shiny to catch his breath so he could continue with his "training".

"Get up." Jesse ordered with far less patience this time. And Quick did. Rising unsteadily on his shaking legs.

Fives had wandered closer, observing the vod gasping for breath. "What are you gonna do with him?"

Jesse shrugs. "Hose him down. hang him up."

Fives brows furrow, "He's here for training. Rex's hoping the extra training might finally teach him some discipline."

Jesse scoffs, "All he's learned is compliance. Discipline comes from within. He's empty on the inside."

"So what are you gonna do about it?" Five's brow was raised now.

Jesse shakes his head casting his visor over the now fully standing shiny, slick with sweat, squinting against the burn. "Nothing. Can't build from a lack. Maybe this lesson isn't for him. Maybe Ahsoka needs to learn that not every clone is made from the same stock."

"So what? We just cast him into ship crew?"

"If he lasts that long."

It was dramatic. He knew that. Fives knew that. The whole conversation had been theatrical. But it was important. Quick needed to understand how truly alone he was in his sour ass attitude. Ahsoka was going out of her way to coddle him. The rest of them couldn't afford to. He couldn't be convinced she was a common enemy.

Choosing a natborn over a vod would be seen as betrayal in any other context but Torrent had to do something about Quick before he actually did get himself blown to shit.

He was a resilient little shit if nothing else. Between the extra training that Ahsoka and Rex were both putting him through. And the way that Ahsoka toted him around on her own schedule. He'd grown some stamina for sure. Managed to put some muscle on those legs. Managed to outpace anyone from his own batch, and half of the officers as well.

Though since he was being trained by heavys and scouts he might not realize it yet. Might not realize how strong he's become. Jesse wasn't exaggerating when he said the kid understood compliance. He had that in spades. Could run until he collapsed with not a single huff or complaint.

But even as his body developed his mind remained closed tight. Resentful and listless. He did as he was told and no more. It reminded Jesse of Specialist training. Of hours spent on his belly, peering down the scope of a rifle, rain pelting him until he felt nothing.

But he'd been trained specifically to do more with his mind than just close it. He'd been trained to think, remember, recall, to expand his mind until he could exist within it and only within it without feeling contained.

There was nothing in Quick's mind. His bucket rattled with nothing but the orders rolling around in it.

And none of them could fix that. None of them could train Quick to actually care about anything. Only he could make that decition.

As promised Jesse led Quick to the showers and promptly left him there.

Kix sat across from him reclined back with a skeptical look on his face. "You can't be serious. Jesse you aren't exactly built to be an Ori'vod."

Jesse shook his head, "I'm not taking him on. I just-. There's something in him that I understand."

Kix's brow was raised high enough to almost touch his hiarline. "And you think you can help him?"

Jesse shrugged. "I don't know."

Kix sighed. "And what do you want me to tell you?"

"When I decided to...change." Jesse struggled with the words.

"When Ahsoka almost died, and then Rex almost died. And then you decided to step up and become an ARC. I doubt that'll help you with him. He hates both of them."

Jesse scoffed. "Ahsoka didn't have anything to do with it."

"Sure."

"She didn't"

"You went from avoiding her like a disease to being on of her go to ARCs. You think that's a coincidence?"

"I didn't decide to become an ARC for Ahsoka."

"But you didn't do it independently of her either."

"Yes-"

Kix cut him off. "The 501st is the only division that regularly keeps ARCs in it's ranks for ground assaults and long term engagements. Every other factions ARCs come and go independently. You could have to. Could have decided to leave the 501st."

"I stayed for Rex."

"Rex doesn't lead the ARCs on solo missions. Rex doesn't train Torrent's ARCs. Ahsoka does. You know your one of her men. AND now your down here trying to figure out how to help her fix that shiny."

Jesse nudged Kix's arm. "An alliance with the Alverd'ika is a side effect of getting in good with the ARCs."

"Right, and I'm sure you weren't at all motivated by Rex's plan to make sure she had a constant ARC guard after her several near death experiences."

"Well, he might have asked me if I wanted the position."

"And you don't think he was motivated to choose troops that he knew had a loyalty to Ahsoka?"

"She's my Commander. Of course I'm loyal to her."

Kix smirked. "Quick's not."

"Quick is a fool."

Kix only looked more self satisfied. "All I'm saying is that you tried to fight it. But she got to you."

"This has not been a productive conversation."

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