puppetmaster13u · 6 months ago
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Meme Snippet of Alp Oneshot
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niphredil-14 · 1 year ago
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Hello Renza! I hope you are doing well. I was wondering if you could write something fluffy and cute about doing the batboy’s makeup. Just asking randomly but sweetly if you can do their makeup and having them lay down and relax while you do. Or maybe some joking around. Just happy vibes. No pressure! Thanks! ♥️♥️
~🫀🥼🎲📚
hope you dont mind hc format, but im tired and just wanted to get my thoughts out since this is a cute simple idea c:
Dick Grayson: - babes be serious - you're doing each other's make up - and unless you're some sort of makeup guru, he's probably better than you - i see him mostly doing show makeup since that's the kind he would have been exposed to first, and also it just matches his vibrant and over the top energy. - if it is you doing his makeup (and not the other way around) then i feel like it would be one of the only times that he can actually relax. - he is always trying to work, or help someone else, or take care of something. this poor man needs a nap, and so if he has to close his eyes while you do his eyeshadow, hes probably gonna just take a little snooze.
Jason Todd: - not as big of a fan, but can be bribed into it if you offer to help him fuck with Bruce, or agree to cover for him if he ever needs it. - you can also get him to do it by telling him how much better he is than dick (or tim, theyre both soft spots for him) and/or that THEY would let you do their makeup. - he does it very reluctantly and demands that you either do a very natural look, or you do a very hot, dark, and sexy look. -please don't put red lipstick on him. frankly he doesn't want any lipstick on him, but especially red -(this also goes especially for AK Jason. You're not doing his makeup regardless, but if by some miracle he let you do his eyeliner or mascara, he will not let you get lipstick anywhere near him. he's probably afraid of fuckin chapstick too @thesandsofelsweyr i thought you would like this) -(hc that joker put makeup on ak jay!!! as a form of humiliation and to keep him "on brand") - will wash it off as soon as it's done/you let him
Tim Drake: - doesn't want his makeup done,, but if he has to crossdress to go undercover again then he might let you. -if thats how you got him to let you, then you have to do very subtle makeup, just enough to make him look a bit more "feminine" -the other way would be to drug his coffe/energy drink and do his makeup while he's asleep. This way would probably be more fun and also give you more creative control.
Damian Al-Ghul Wayne: - very reluctant and will only agree to if he owes you a favor (he is honorable) - or (aged up version, of course) if you are his beloved, and the two of you are in private, and you are not permitted to take any photos. - I think he would be a big fan of glam looks, or of darker grungier looks. -he will take it off as soon as you're done (though he might take a moment to admire your artwork before wiping it off)
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saikoucorps · 3 months ago
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So since the hyperfixation is real…would it be possible to get poly hc’s with Bruce x John x reader who helped bring them closer too? (with a tiny bit of NSFW as well if possible)
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:ఌ¨ BRUCE X JOHN X READER
♱ nsfw warning ┊ poly hcs ┊ batjokes x gn!reader ♱
A/N ┊ I was waiting for someone to request this!! I love them together :3
I decided to do this and add general relationship hcs (^_^)
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[ pre-relationship ༉‧₊˚ ]
♤ They both beat around the bush a lot. I don't think they realized their feelings for you, or eachother. Especially Bruce. He had it worse. Poor guy was insanely oblivious to you and John.
♤ John and Bruce got along well, but they were very stupid sometimes. Both believed they were out of eachothers league, including yours!
♤ So, with these difficulties, they kept a distance between eachother. They still hung out with you though. Their thought process was basically "I don't have a chance with him, so I'll go to them".
♤ That doesn't mean they didn't love you. They very much did! You noticed this, and you couldn't take it anymore.
♤ Each hang out you planned, the other one was involved.
♤ For example, you invited John to hang out at a bar, and then suddenly "forgot" to mention Bruce was also coming. It became a habit of yours. They didn't mind, though.
♤ Infact, they were so used to it, that they forgot about their troubles from before.
♤ Everything between you three felt natural. So natural, in fact, that they got REALLY bold. Especially John. You and Bruce never get tired of his flirtatious "jokes".
And, well, Bruce being the 'playboy' that he is, always goes along with it.
♤ Your goal to bring them closer worked, and in the process, they got closer to you as well.
♤ John was the first to mention it, your relationship. What were you guys? It surely wasn't normal that three friends were so close with each other, was it? Bruce said he's whatever you both wanted him to be. You knew, as well as John, what you wanted him to be. What you wanted eachother to be.
♤ You all knew. And you were all together soon enough.
So, what if you three were dating? Finally, at least.. ༉‧₊˚
♤ It can either be absolute chaos, or an absolute smooth ride in the river. I think you can guess who's on which side..
♤ Trick question! It's both of them!
♤ If Bruce thought Alfred worrying about him on missions was bad, wait till he has two more worrying for him. It really depends, honestly. Sometimes you and John join him.
♤ Which is why they come off as overly-protective Actually, they are protective. Bruce, as Batman, constantly is checking on you two when you join him. He's sometimes even against it. He knows you two will be safe though.
♤ John is similar. He never hesitates to jump into action when you or Bruce may be harmed in any way. No matter how far he has to go. As long as your safe, he's okay.
♤ John is also jealous. He can be really possessive fast. If he sees someone flirting or trying anything with either one of you, he's stopping it immediately. Not that he doesn't trust you both, no, he wants it to be known you guys are off the table.
♤ If you had any criminal background, Bruce has it cleared right away. Thanks to Waller. As well as John's background. Because of this, you two don't have to worry about being chased down.
♤ Alfred is very used to you and John being over at the mansion, so much so he knows your favorite teas. And if you didn't like tea to begin with.
♤ John is obsessed with photos. You all could be out somewhere, or just sitting down, and he's immediately photo journaling it. He did it so much to the point of you bringing up the idea to Bruce about buying him an actual camera. And he did! He was absolutely estactic about it, and rarely ever puts it down.
♤ On the topic of photos, John decided to upgrade to a photo journal. He keeps a book of photos of you three close to him.
♤ Bruce is a total romantic. While he may not have that much relationship experiences, he definitely knows how to get under your skin in many ways. John has absolutely no relationship experience.. though, he knows how to push your buttons a lot. He's very observant!
♤ John's therapy circle at the stack decks knows all about you and Bruce.. and people who work for Bruce know about you and John. Alfred will even occasionally ask Bruce how you both are doing.
♤ Bruce loves to tease you and John by being sarcastic. John actually enjoys this, as well as you. Humor is very common among you three. There's never a moment where John won't break the silence with a joke or chuckle.
now, onto the nsfw 👀.. ༉‧₊˚
♤ John. That should explain enough.
Okay, well, let me explain.
♤ Bruce likes to pretend he enjoys meaningful and loving sex. He does, but he's a sucker for rough and kinky.
♤ John knew of this, as did you. You just didn't expect John to use it against you as well.
♤ He made things very interesting.. even got Bruce to come out his shell! He'd have new ideas for you two and would always tease you both badly during the day.
"You've got quite the grip on that."
"Mm so aggressive."
"Those lips can be very useful for something else."
♤ He'd send you both dirty texts throughout the day, on purpose. At the worst times. Once sent you one while you were at a meeting, a semi important one infact. You were listening to your boss until you felt your phone vibrate and decide to check it in secret. You knew it was either John, or Bruce. Your notifications are all off except for their messages. All you saw was the most diabolical thing ever, it was impossible not to have an reaction.
♤ It soon became a game between you all. You went to get back at him, Bruce got back at him, soon enough Brucie's sarcastic and teasing nature caught up with you and you felt challenged.
♤ None of you hated it. It made everything all more interesting.
♤ The boys are crazy switches. Bruce used to choose to believe he was a top, until you/John proved him wrong. He enjoyed both positions, as long as he could service either one of you guys.
♤ John is definitely not afraid of praise. He knows how to get you both going, he will never hold back. One simple gesture can have him holding you so softly and telling you how amazing you are at this.
♤ Bruce is very touchy. In public and in private. Especially in private. He isn't afraid to do it in public. He's all up for risks.
♤ So much, that he allowed you to be under his desk as an employee spoke to him. John knew all about this and teases Bruce about it. Even said to let him try it out sometime.
♤ With how strong Bruce is, you have to hope the bed stays intacted. And yourself.
♤ Bruce is rich, so imagine all the toys he could by with his money. They do not hold back.
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I hope this is good enough !!
likes + reblogs appreciated :)
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braveclementine · 4 months ago
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Chapter 3
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Warnings: None (anyone can read this story)
Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. I do not condone any copying of this.
𝓣𝓗𝓔 water was deep and scary and I fought to make my way upwards. When my tiny head broke the surface, I let out a series of cries, hoping that someone would come and save me. I looked around wildly, trying to see how far it was to the edge.
The thing that had transported me here was long gone. He wasn't going to save me. Not that I had expected he would.
I kitty paddled for a long, long time towards the edge. People were starting to appear, some of them running along the path around the lake.
Idiots. They might fall in too! Humans weren't as sure footed as cats were.
I finally reached the edge, but looked up in dismay. It was a good foot above the water, and I had nothing to jump on.
I shivered, my sopping fur soaked with coldness. I was freezing and I was scared. I just needed some body warmth and good pets. Some chicken would be nice too.
"Help! Help! Help! Help!" I mewed over and over, paddling around. I was tired and hungry and cold.
"Hey Buck, did you hear that?" A curious, warm voice asked.
"HELP ME YOU DUMBASS! CAN'T YOU HEAR ME?" I mewed loudly.
"Yeah, it sounds like a cat." A second voice said. This voice was very warm as well and I wanted them to find me.
"But where is it?" The first voice asked.
I could hear footsteps and I continued to meow, even as I continued to feel even more tired. I couldn't give up now. Not so close to being saved. Not when I had to find Billy and Tommy and save them. What if their father tried to kill them too?
Suddenly, feet appeared at the edge of the wall and I looked up, trying to stay afloat.
"Aww, the poor kitty." The second voice said, and a large hand dipped down, pulling me out of the water.
"Gosh she's so little," The first voice said in a marveling voice. He was a blond man with blue eyes and a kind face.
"She must just be a kit." The second said. He was also kind looking, but also a little scary. He had long brown hair, brown eyes, and a metal arm. Luckily, he was holding me with the flesh hand, which was very warm and I curled up into a ball, trying to get as much warmth from it as possible.
"Here," The second man said. "You can hold her in both of your hands so she can get warm. We should take her straight to the tower and warm her up."
The first man took me into his large hands. They were huge, like the rest of his body, and very warm. He cupped me between them and they took off back the way they had come.
"Where are you guys going now?" A dark skinned man said, stopping on his run. "Don't tell me you're done already!"
"No, sorry we've got to cut the run short Sam." The first man said. "We found this kitten in the water and she's freezing. We're hoping maybe Tony will have something to warm her up, or something, I don't know."
"Oh well she is adorable." Sam said, "I'll head back with you guys."
The three men were very quick in bringing me to a very large tower that was very warm when they stepped inside.
I was very content where I was, in the man's hands. They felt very safe and loving and if it weren't for the fact that I needed to find Billy and Tommy, I wouldn't have minded settling down with him.
"Bucky? Steve? Sam? What are you guys doing back early?" A red headed woman asked, sipping on a cup of what smelled like coffee.
Since dark skin was Sam, and dark haired was Bucky, I assumed light haired was Steve.
"This little kitty was in the cold water of the reflecting pond." Bucky said, pointing to me in Steve's hands. "We want to get her checked out by Tony."
"Does Tony know anything about animals?" The red head asked skeptically. "You might want to bring her to Bruce instead."
"Are they both down in the lab?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, they should be. I don't know if Tony even went to sleep last night though." The red head said.
"Thanks Nat."
Gnat? Was she a type of bug? I looked at her with even more interest now. She didn't really look edible though.
We went into a small box that traveled downwards. I mewed and Steve opened his hands a little. I got to my feet on his hands and stood up on my hind legs, putting my front paws on his chest.
"Do you have food?"
"Oh my gosh she's so adorable." The man named Bucky squealed.
Strange, he seemed like he would be scary. Maybe he was just an overgrown man child.
"I would like food." I said again.
"She is adorable." Steve agreed. He ran two fingers down my head lightly like he was afraid to much pressure would break me. I purred. It felt good.
I dug my claws into his shirt, crawling up it so that I could rest on his shoulder, wrapping my tail around his neck. I purred with content.
"Oh gosh, please don't fall." Steve said in a pleading voice, resting one of his hands lightly on my body. Two metal doors opened and they exited the metal box, walking down another hallway until they got to a very large room.
It was filled with lots of metal things and tools. Two men were sitting there, both looked slightly similar.
One was wearing glasses, wearing a light purple shirt that was buttoned at the elbow. His black hair was wavy, slightly looking a bit like pepper. He was slightly shorter, and slightly wider than the second man.
The second was lean, and maybe around the 5 foot seven mark. He was definitely shorter than the men carrying me- except maybe the dark man named Sam. He looked nice and friendly, with black hair around his mouth and on his chin. He wore a short that had the letters A-C-D-C on it and I wanted to let him know he had two C's on his shirt. I was pretty sure it was supposed to say A-B-C-D.
"Is this the kitchen?" I asked.
The lean man looked up first, "What are you doing with a kitten Cap? I thought you liked dogs better?"
Who was Cap?
Steve sighed, lifting me down from his shoulder to place me in front of the man. "But look how adorable she is Tony."
So was his name Steve or Cap? What kind of name was Cap?
Actually, I liked bottle caps. They were very fun to bat around. Would he be fun to bat around?
"Where'd you get her from and why are you bringing her down here?" Tony asked, putting a hand in front of me to stop me from batting whatever he was playing with off the table. "Holy, she's soft and also very wet and cold."
I mewed happily with the compliment and sat still so that he could pet me.
"She was in the reflecting pool. She was trying to get out of it, but the wall was to high." Steve said with a slight frown.
"What the heck was she doing out there?" The second man questioned, joining in on the conversation.
"Well, you see, there is this terrible man and he THREW me in there." I mewed. "You should arrest him or something. Cat crimes and all. That's a thing, right?"
"Oh my gosh, her mews are so cute." Tony mumbled.
"We don't know." Bucky answered the second man's question.
"So why is she down here?" The second man asked.
"We were wondering if you guys had anything to check her out with. See if she is okay and all that." Steve said.
"Oh yeah." Tony said, picking me up in his arms and then walking over to another table. "Stay still cutie."
He pressed a button and I peered at the green lasers in interest. My first reaction was to back away as they got closer, but the nice man named Tony had asked me to stay still, so I did.
The green lights went through my body, but I felt nothing and then Tony was picking me up and putting me back down on the other table. "Results?"
"Perfectly healthy." A female voice said from literally nowhere. "Female."
I hissed, my fur poofing up as I looked around the room, trying to find the source of the noise.
"She is around seven months old and is of the munchkin cat variety. She will most likely only get to be anywhere from three to six inches bigger than she already is. She is pure white, but has a small marking on her back right paw that is in the shape of a crown and is black. It seems to be natural. There is no ink imprints at least. She has no collar or identity so it is impossible to locate her owners. However, with a few hours of time, I could possibly pull up the cameras from around the reflecting pool to see what happened."
"That would be great, thank you F.R.I.D.A.Y." Tony said. "Well, I guess that answers all of your questions. Are you going to keep her?"
"Yes!" Bucky said cheerfully. "Me and Stevie were thinking about getting a pet and she is obviously a gift."
"What are you guys going to name her?" The second man asked with interest.
"I don't know Bruce. I don't want to call her anything generic like marshmallow or snow." Steve said.
"I know, Blizzard." Bucky said with a smile. "She kind've looks like one too, doesn't she?"
What was a Blizzard.
"My name is Y/N." I mewed.
"Blizzard is really cute." Tony said, petting me. His fingers felt really good, running along my fur.
"Well, okay, it's not bad." I mewled sullenly. "Do you have food?"
"She's very talkative, isn't she?" Sam asked. "Do cats usually meow a lot?"
"What? Of course we do! We have a lot to say you dumby." I meowed at him.
"I wonder if she wants something specific." Steve said with worry.
"Maybe she's hungry." Bruce said, rummaging through a drawer and brought me over something brown. "I don't know if she'll like this though."
I sniffed it and took a tentative bite. Ooh! It tasted good. Almost sweet. And chewy. And soft. I liked it very much.
"Bread?" Bucky's voice was very surprised, "Can kittens have bread?"
"Well, until we get proper cat food, we're going to have to give her human food." Bruce said.
"I would not give the cat sourdough bread Mr. Banner." the robot voice said. "It contains a lot of yeast. They love it, but they get sick if they eat to much. And she is just a kit."
Five different hands reached out to snatch the tasty snack from me. I mewled in protest, leaping at Sam who had the bread in his hands.
"So I would say that she is very hungry." Tony said, lifting me in his hands. I let out a cry and I watched his heart break on his face. "SHE'S SO CUTE!"
"F.R.I.D.A.Y., what are some human foods that she can have?" Sam asked as he discarded the bread in the trash can. My eyes zeroed in on it and when Tony put me back down on the table, I stared looking for a way to get to it.
"Fish, Chicken, Beef, Cheese, Bananas, berries, melon, carrots, rice, pumpkin, oatmeal, eggs, and spinach just to name a few. If you have anything specific, you can ask me." the thing they were calling Friday said.
I crept low across the table, hopping down onto a stool, and then hopping to the floor, sauntering over to the trash can.
"We have plenty of cheese upstairs in the refrigerator. We also have hamburger." Tony said. "Some of that should be good for her."
I peeked into the can, seeing the delicious thing in there, and tried to grab it, falling into the bucket. I mewed as I latched onto the bread. Yummy.
"Where is she?" Bucky asked.
"Blizzard!" Steve shouted, a shadow falling over me, and he lifted me into the air. He attempted to tug the bread out of my mouth, but I dug my teeth in.
"Aww c'mon kitty." Steve pouted. "I don't want to hurt you. Let go and you can have fish."
Fish? What was fish? It was a funny word. Fish, fish, fishy fish.
"C'mon Blizzard." Bucky said, "Give me the bad bread. It's not good for you. You'll get sick. You don't want to get sick, it feels bad."
Reluctantly, I opened my mouth and let him take the bread from me.
"Good kitten." Bucky said, petting my head and tossing the delicious love of my life into the bin again.
But alas, I did like Bucky calling me good. I liked all of them in here, although Bruce smelled a little funny. But Steve and Bucky were the most comforting of all. And Tony was a close second.
"C'mon, let's go and get you some fish." Bucky said, taking me into his large hands and they left the two men behind.
⬅️➡️
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soulmate-game · 3 years ago
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Harley's Plea for Help ch. 6
Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6-- you are here
Yet another night of barely any sleep, but this time Marinette didn’t have the coffee-angel Red Robin at her rescue. No, instead she had to go completely uncaffeinated until she and her class got to Wayne Enterprises. Madame Mendelieve could only sigh as she watched Marinette scamper off to the café as soon as they made it past the initial security of the building. A couple of her classmates chuckled or snorted at her familiar behavior.
It was the same barista at the register as before, but this time Marinette felt too tired to properly order or be adventurous in looking for new flavors.
“I feel like death. I don’t care if it tastes like pure bean oil today. Flavors will take away from the amount of coffee you can shove in one cup, right?”
The poor barista blinked, eyeing the deep bags forming under the poor girl’s eyes. She sighed. “I had hope yesterday that you were just a normal caffeine addict. Now I see we actually have a second Mister Drake,” she said it as if she was mourning at Marinette’s grave before poking a few buttons on her touchscreen order station and turning her head. “One Insomniac CEO, but not for the boss!” She called out. The barista making the drinks paused for a second with wide eyes.
“We have another one?!” He asked, shocked. “Piece of advice?” He turned to Marinette. “Get some sleep.”
“Sleep is for the dead,” Marinette deadpanned back. “I got stuff I need to do today.”
The guy just shook his head and sighed, making the drink as Marinette paid and left a good tip. The drink came out fairly quickly, and everyone behind the counter stopped for a moment to stare as she gulped down the hot drink with no concern for her tongue or throat. A satisfied sound left her as she finally pulled away from the cup.
“This is really good!” She complimented, turning to the Baristas with a still-tired smile. It would take a minute or two for the coffee to have full effect, but she already felt better. “A little too bitter for my usual tastes, but perfect for days like today. Thanks!” She waved at them before turning around and seeing that her class was already gone again. Before she could fully process that though, a hand slapped down onto her head and ruffled her hair.
Surprised (really, not a lot of people could sneak up on her anymore. Just how tired was she?) she let out a high pitched squeal.
“You’re a good kid,” the soft, slightly scratchy voice that said that made Marinette’s shoulders drop and eyes widen. Tilting her head back she was greeted with the widely-grinning face of Jason Todd. He was once again in the uniform of a security guard.
“Wha— Uh,” Marinette couldn’t quite find the right words right away. She was too stunned. Jason just chuckled, jerking his head to indicate the same door her class had gone through the day before and leading the way over there. Marinette scrambled to catch up.
Once they were far away enough from prying eyes and ears, Marinette cleared her throat.
“Um,” she started. “Did… I mean, do you..?”
“Yeah, our mutual friends had a chat with me last night,” he confirmed casually. He sent her a meaningful look even though his grin never left his face. “Like I said; you’re a good kid. And I’m not goin’ anywhere. You’re not responsible for the things your parents have done, you know.”
The girl at his side hummed noncommittally, not fully convinced but also not wanting to argue.
“You’re not,” he repeated firmly, stopping in the middle of the side-hallway. They could see her class at the other end getting checked in, but didn’t make a move to join them yet. “I mean it. The stuff that happened to me, none of that was you. Hell, you were a little kid back then. And there’s nothing you could have done to stop it, either. I’m not gonna hold anything against you just because you’re his child. You didn’t ask to be,” he shrugged. “Besides, I get it. Biological relation doesn’t equal family. Trust me,” his grin was gone and a tired one replaced it. “I know that better than most people.”
The pigtailed girl could only gulp, taking a deep breath as she forced down the tears that wanted to bubble up. She had had this conversation with Adrien a few times, but even then she had been convinced that he just didn’t understand. He was just being nice. But this— Jason’s words were more valuable than gold to her. He had no reason to be nice, so it had to be at least partially sincere.
“Thanks,” she whispered once she was positive she wasn’t going to break. She lifted her cup up and took a long sip of her coffee. The slight burn against her tongue helped ground her. “That means more than you know.”
Jason chuckled. “Nah. The fact that you stood up for me to the Bat,” his grin returned to his face full blast, making dimples appear on his cheeks. “Now that, you have no idea how much that means to me. You must have some serious guts to lecture that guy, too. Is it too late to adopt you for myself?”
That tore a quick laugh out of her, making her classmate’s head whip over to the opposite end of the hallway where she and Jason were. She quickly quieted herself, but her eyes danced with amusement as she looked up at Jason. “You’re too young to be my parent anyway, but I wouldn’t say no to a brother,” she joked. Jason’s eyes sparkled.
“Good, exactly what I was aiming for!” He slipped a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her. “That’s my number. Call me if you ever need anything, got it?” He turned to resume leading her back to her class and she quickly slipped the paper into her pocket before anyone saw and got the wrong idea. “And I mean anything.”
Marinette just smiled and nodded. By then, they were close enough for Alya to smirk and ask; “What took ya so long, girl?”
“Oh,” Marinette shuffled a little on her feet before an observation gave her a last minute idea and she straightened up with a wide smile. “We just got distracted talking about motorcycles!”
Jason’s eyebrows raised for a quick second before he settled his expression again and played along. He had figured that not many people knew about her biological family. That part made sense. But she had been a total mess just the day before when she had tried to lie about Paris’ little villain problem in front of Bruce. How was she able to actually come up with a good lie this time around, when she had been just as much put on the spot? He wondered to himself about what was different about this situation to allow her to lie more easily. Maybe Bruce not being there was part of it— she seemed easily flustered by famous people.
Think of the devil, because no sooner had that thought finished developing in Jason’s mind before Bruce Wayne walked into the hallway with a paparazzi-ready smile. Jason rolled his eyes and sunk to the back of the group silently, sinking back into his job and keeping an eye on their surroundings. He listened as Alya laughed softly and elbowed Marinette even as the group turned their attention to Bruce.
“You and your bikes,” Alya teased. “If someone knew enough about motorcycles, I bet you’d marry them on the spot.”
“Nah,” Marinette whispered back. “If they gave me a really nice one though? That’s marriage potential for sure.”
The two girls laughed for a second before focusing back on the tour. Adrien wasted no time making his way to Marinette’s side, silent questions in his eyes. Jason watched with interest as the two seemed to silently communicate with one another. It was obvious that Adrien was calling her lie, and Marinette was essentially silently telling him that she would explain later. It was so seamless and subtle that if Jason hadn’t been extremely familiar with that kind of communication already, he wouldn’t have noticed it. Once again his eyebrows rose a tick on his forehead, and he made a mental note of the interaction. That kind of silent conversation wasn’t an easy thing to do with people. It was most commonly seen in married or otherwise long-term couples, childhood friends, family, or hero partners. The childhood friends and family sections were already ruled out from their background check on her and Harley herself had mentioned that even though Marinette had once crushed on Adrien, she had unofficially adopted the boy as her brother since then. Though, their time as close friends was only documented as having lasted about a year. That wasn’t quite enough time for that sort of effortless silent communication to be possible.
Of course, Jason had his suspicions already. But there was no rush, either. The Clown was on the move and more important to focus on for now. He could focus on the puzzle that was Marinette and Adrien later.
Bruce took over the tour as he had the day before, and the class was instantly riveted once again. If the fact that they were being led through the building by the very man who owned it wasn’t awesome enough to get everyone’s full attention, the man’s personality was. He came off a little carefree and very kind, but there was an obvious undercurrent of just how much he loved his company that showed that he did take it and his job seriously. Just, not too seriously either. And he interjected everywhere he could with personal stories and anecdotes and little bits of his family history that the normal tour guides might not have known. It was not long after he announced that he was going to take them to a lower lab set aside specifically for their class’ tour, so that they could do their first interactive activity, that jason found the opportunity to sidle up next to Marinette on the opposite side from where Adrien walked alongside her.
“So,” he said casually. “How’d you know I ride a motorcycle?” he smirked to show he wasn’t upset as he looked down at her curiously. Marinette blinked, taking her attention away from Bruce to look over at Jason. Once his words registered, she smiled widely and pointed to one of his pockets. The corners of his bike gloves flopped over the edge.
“I noticed those. I figured you’d have a negative reaction that might give us away if my lie was too off the mark, and I do have a habit of saying stupid things if I don’t have a clue or something to play off of. I also had to make it believable for the class, and they all know that my Nonna has played a huge part in my love for motorcycles. I plan on getting a license to drive one when I turn sixteen later this year,” she told him softly. “I tend to gush whenever I see a cool bike, so I knew they wouldn’t question it.”
Jason huffed a little bit of laughter under his breath. It was like the trope of a character looking at random items in the room to come up with a fake name, but somehow it had actually worked for her. She was quick-witted and clever, he had to admit. And observant.
“I was running late, so I must have left them in my pocket when I was changing,” he admitted, unbothered. “Ah, here we are,” he nodded to return the two teen’s (he had noticed Adrien paying close attention as he and Marinette had their conversation) attention back to the tour. Bruce opened the door for the class with a flourish, gesturing for everyone to go in.
“Since these first few days are going to be tours and lessons about working in general, your first activity of your trip is to solve various problems we’ve given you based on real situations that WE employees have been in before. Split up into groups, and choose a table. Each table has a different problem covering a different industry. Reporting, Science— specifically research and development, business management, and entertainment…”
—*—*—*—*—*
“It’s straight,” Adrien assured her, trying to keep himself from laughing as Marinette straightened his tie for the millionth time. “I promise. And you look fantastic.”
Marinette stepped back, nodding at Adrien’s appearance in approval. “I know. We both look great, but…” she fidgeted and then stepped forward to go right back to over-straightening his tie. Adrien snorted, grabbing her hands before she could touch the poor thing again and lowering her arms to her sides.
“Calm down. Like you said, we both look great. You don’t have a single hair out of place, the outfits you made us look amazing, and my tie is at a perfect ninety degree angle to my collar. Take the model’s word for it,” he teased with a lopsided grin. “We look ready for the front cover of a magazine. So just take a deep breath, because we should get down to the lobby soon to wait for the ride he’s sending for us.”
“Right,” Marinette nodded. She followed his advice and took a deep breath. Once she was suitably calmed, she opened her eyes and nodded at him. Adrien smiled and held out his arm, making Marinette snort as she took hold of it gently and let him lead her to the elevator.
Bruce had not specified whether the dinner was going to be casual or formal, but with the fact that his kids were going to be present and it was at his own house, Marinette had a feeling it was going to be more of a casual thing than if they had went out to a fancy restaurant with a black tie dress code. At the same time, this was the Wayne manor they were talking about. She didn’t want to be underdressed, either. Not to mention that it was her design skills that had played a huge part in her winning the contest in the first place, so she felt like she had to show her work again to prove that they had chosen the right person.
A playful wolf whistle greeted the two of them when they got down to the lobby. Alya was, to no one’s surprise, the perpetrator. She stood in the lobby with Alix, Nino, and Max, who all had known about the dinner and agreed to be there to see the two of them off and put Marinette’s worries to rest. The four of them jogged over, Alix smiling and adding her own soft whistle of appreciation.
“You guys look great,” the short skater assured them, taking the time to skate slow circles around them to make sure that nothing was wrong with their outfits. “I think you’ve outdone yourself, Mari! Very cool.”
Alya nodded eagerly, bouncing in place with a wide, beaming smile on her face. “Ah! The both of you look ready to kick ass and woo rich people!” she added. Max pushed his glasses up on his nose with a small grin.
“There is a ninety-five percent chance of your work impressing all of the Waynes,” he said in his own version of encouragement.
“You guys got this!” Nino shot them a thumbs up. “They beat me to all the stuff I wanted to say.”
Marinette beamed, laughing along with her friends as she allowed herself to relax a little. Adrien’s outfit was of her own making, a subtle way for him to rebel since his father had sent him with his own Gabriel brand suit should an appropriate opportunity to wear it come up. Adrien had no plans of ever putting his father’s suit on his body. In an effort to spice up formal men’s wear a bit without making the whole thing white and silver like Gabriel wanted, Marinette had made him a classic silk shirt in black, with short sleeves that fell at that perfect halfway point between his elbow and shoulder. The sleeves had thick cuffs in a dark forest green, with decorative straight stitches on the seams in a bright magenta pink thread. On top of that was a corset-style sleeveless vest with a deep V. The majority of the vest was the same black as the shirt, but with dark green hand-stitched swirls that were just barely bright enough to be contrasted against the black. It created a very subtle pattern that would be hard to see in the wrong lighting, but would make it look that much more expensive and elaborate in the right lighting. The lapel of the vest was in the same dark forest green as the cuffs of his shirt, with a few decorative swirls embroidered on the very corners. The piping of the corset-vest made three curved lines on either side of his waist, curling from mid-rib cage to his waist. It gave him a slightly more feminine twist to his outfit, making his waist look smaller even though it wasn’t actually pulled very tight on him— it was mostly the illusion made by the piping rather than the actual tightness of the garment. The two outside piping lines were done in a magenta pink, while the middle piping line was once again in dark forest green. Unlike most corset-style vests, this one had no buttons or zipper on the front at all. Instead, it was closed only by corset lacing in the back, the laces done in such a dark shade of green that it was almost black, while the eyelets that the laces were threaded through were that same magenta pink as the piping and decorative stitches elsewhere on the outfit. The tie that Marinette had spent so long making sure was straight was almost entirely soft lace, but it was layered in such a way with layers of sheer green and pink lace that it looked like it was a constant swirl of the two colors. If someone got close enough to see the pattern of the lace tie, they would notice that it was a pattern of cats chasing a butterfly.
Underneath the artistic top of the outfit were black dress pants, once again with thick forest-green cuffs on the bottoms. But instead of the decorative stitching, the pant legs flared a bit at the ankles for just a little extra drama. Magenta-pink Oxfords peeked out of the wide cuffs. The green detailing made Adrien’s eyes pop, while the pink accents gave his boyish charm a little more of a feminine touch that almost seemed to highlight his naturally sensitive and charming nature.
In contrast, Marinette wore a sleeveless pink pantsuit. It was the same shade as the pink accents in Adrien’s outfit, and had a built-in corset as well that went only around her natural waist. The corset boning on Marinette was a solid black, while the rest was just the same base pink as the majority of the suit. The black of the boning seemed to flow downwards, changing from boning into thick hand-embroidery in thread of the exact same black. The embroidery flowed down the sides of both legs, in the shape of tree branches and apple blossoms. Pale green accents in the form of swirls at her high neckline and a pale green lace capelet that was the only thing covering her shoulders helped tie her outfit in with Adrien’s. She also wore pale green low kitten heels and her black hair up in a braided bun. With how her pant legs were form-hugging until they flared out slightly at the heel, and the lack of sleeves exposed her toned arms and shoulders and emphasized her strength there without making her look unbalanced or too masculine for the rest of the outfit’s style, she looked ready to rock the business world. Her bright blue eyes clashed with the green details of the outfit just enough to bring attention to them, assuring that people who met her eyes would not be able to easily look away.
The quick snap of a phone’s flash went off, drawing everyone’s attention to Madame Bustier. She was beaming at all of them, and had just taken a picture of her two students all dressed up. She waved her phone happily. “I’m sending this picture to the both of you. I’m so proud of you guys!” she gushed.
Marinette and Adrien both blushed deep red, shifting in their spots. They were confident in their looks, and Adrien was just as proud of his pseudo-sister, but neither of them was very good at handling so much positive attention aimed only at them. Especially not from their extremely sincere friends and teacher.
“Miss Dupain-Cheng?” An older gentleman with a British accent turned everyone’s attention to him. The first thing Marinette thought was that he had kind eyes. He also had soft wisps of white hair on his head, carefully trimmed and slicked back. Of course, Marinette and Adrien also couldn’t miss the high quality and perfect press of his carefully maintained suit. Once he had shown all the proper credentials to Madame Bustier, he introduced himself to the two well-dressed teens with a shallow bow. “I am Alfred Pennyworth, the butler for Wayne Manor. I am to escort the both of you there for supper tonight.”
“Oh! Thank you so much, Monsieur Pennyworth,” Marinette said, walking up and shaking his hand. Adrien was right by her side the whole time, matching her smile watt for watt and shaking Alfred’s hand with just as much enthusiasm.
“Yeah, thank you for having us over. I know it was technically Bruce who invited Marinette, but you’re probably the one that has to do all the work. So, thank you. We really appreciate it,” he told the man sincerely. Alfred’s answering smile was soft, almost fond.
“Yes, I admit I am in charge of most of the work for tonight. But you shouldn’t worry, it’s no different from any other day at the manor,” he said lightheartedly, a little bit of good natured snark shining through his otherwise proper behavior— “Every last one of the Waynes would die in less than a week without me to keep everything in order,” he joked. “Allow me to lead you to the car.”
Marinette and Adrien followed behind Alfred. She didn’t know if it was the calming aura he put off, or if it was the gentle way his eyes sparkled that made her want to look after him. But whatever it was, she found herself wanting to protect this kind old man already. Which is why her eyebrows slightly pinched together. Before climbing inside the luxurious town car he had brought for them, she couldn’t help but turn to Alfred and ask;
“I hope you aren’t overworked. I don’t want to overstep, Monsieur, but isn’t the Wayne family rather large for one person to look after on their own?”
Alfred laughed gently at that, his eyes once again softening. “Do not worry about me, Miss Dupain-Cheng. They are family to me. And though, yes, you are correct in assuming they are a handful, they are also wonderful people. They help me where they can, but taking care of themselves is not their forte. Being able to do that for them is my greatest joy.”
The wrinkles in Marinette’s brow smoothed out and she smiled. “That’s so sweet. You’re making me want to meet them all even more.”
Something about that twinkle in Alfred’s eye made her feel like he was laughing at some joke she didn’t hear. “I’m sure all of you will get along swimmingly.”
—*—*—*—*—*
“I FOUND HER FIRST!”
Alfred had barely opened the manor’s doors to let Marinette and Adrien inside before the chaos started. Or rather, before they were let in on it— it seemed as if the chaos had already been going on for a while.
Jason skidded across the floor in a mad dash, having to grasp the doorframe he was running out of so that he could turn the corner sharply and veer towards them.
“Tell them, Marinette! I found you first, you’re my sister now, don’t fall for any of their Jedi mind tricks!”
Marinette just blinked, a little caught off guard. It hadn’t exactly sunk into her head until right that moment that ‘Wayne Family dinner’ would include Jason. Her mind was still catching up to the fact that she was seeing him out of his security guard uniform for the first time. He wasn’t dressed up at all, in a well-loved brown leather jacket over a white shirt and dark wash jeans. He still had his motorcycle gloves on. Marinette looked down at first herself, then Adrien.
“Are we overdressed?” She asked with a grimace. Jason huffed.
“Of course not, you guys look amazing! But seriously, tell them that I claimed you as my sister first and none of them are half as cool as me.”
Marinette and Adrien traded glances before laughing together.
“If we’re being technical here,” Adrien drawled mischievously as he straightened out his vest. “I met Marinette first, and she adopted me as her brother long before we met any of you,” he pointed out with a sharp grin.
“Ha!” a younger man laughed pointedly, following after Jason. The newcomer was dressed more formally, in a dress shirt under a very luxurious looking burgundy designer sweater. Under that, he wore black perfectly-pressed slacks and nondescript oxfords. His collar showed signs of housing a tie earlier, but he had clearly taken it off sometime earlier. His hair hung slightly long, framing his face with two long locks while the back of his hair slightly stuck up in all directions in natural tufted curls. Like Jason, his hair was jet black and he had bright blue eyes. He was also about half Jason’s size, much shorter and leaner than his adoptive brother. “He’s got you there, idiot,” he snarked smugly at Jason before turning to the two guests. “Miss Dupain-Cheng, Mister Agreste. I’m Tim Drake-Wayne, it’s nice to finally meet both of you,” he introduced himself as he walked over to shake their hands. “And your outfits are amazing! Did you make them, Miss Dupain-Cheng?”
“Marinette,” she corrected with a lopsided grin. “My last name is a mouthful, and I prefer to just go by Marinette anyway. And yes, I made both of these outfits before we left Paris,” she admitted, trying her best to seem professional. She had already ruined her chances of that with Bruce and Jason, but this time she was prepared!
“They are just as impressive as the rest of your work that I’ve seen. And call me Tim, it’s only fair,” and then he smiled.
Damn his boyish grin. He wasn’t someone Marinette had a crush on— he wasn’t her type— but damn he was unfairly charismatic and charming. His smile temporarily short circuited her brain. That was exactly the kind of boyish smile that had started her crush on Adrien, and that she was unfairly weak for. Now she felt a deep-seated urge to protect this boy and his smile or so help her, someone would be sent to the ER if he was hurt and it wasn’t gonna be her. And she didn’t try to dissuade herself from that strong protective urge, her mother had already assured her that all the Waynes were trustworthy and that Tim in particular shared a lot of her bad habits. She could allow this little bit of vulnerability. Hopefully.
“... I’ve only known you for two minutes, but if anything happened to you I would kill everyone in this room and then myself,” she breathed. Adrien elbowed her hard, making her yelp.
“You said that out loud Mari,” he deadpanned. A deep flush immediately came over her face, and she covered her mouth with both hands.
“Oh shit. I’m so sorry— but you— just forget I said anything. Please!”
Tim was visibly shocked, his eyes wide and mouth agape. Jason snorted, overcoming his own brief moment of shock pretty easily.
“Careful there,” Jason chided good-heartedly. His gaze met Marinette’s with a slight weight in it though. “You barely know the guy. He’ll annoy you out of your mind soon enough.”
Marinette caught the hint, wincing and changing the subject. Jason could see that she had done exactly as her mother had warned— she had gotten attached to Tim almost immediately. And while he wanted to believe Marinette when she said that the same wouldn’t happen with Joker, that she was not going to repeat her mother’s mistakes…
He couldn’t help but worry. Joker was a slippery bastard, and good at getting past people’s defenses.
Tim eventually led them all to the dining room, where several people were already sat waiting for them.
“We decided it would be best if we didn’t all swarm you at the door,” Tim explained, grinning at her kindly. “Take a seat wherever you want, Alfred is probably going to be done with dinner soon.”
Marinette and Adrien both nodded, going to sit by each other’s side. Adrien put his hand on her knee when they sat down, and traded a meaningful look with her.
“Calm down,” he whispered. “We’re not in Paris. And if you slip, I’ll catch you. Promise.”
Marinette’s shoulders relaxed a little. Yeah, she could trust Adrien to make sure she didn’t slip up too much. Get too careless. He’d watch her back like she did for him. She’d be okay. They’d both be okay.
“Thanks, Adrien. I needed that.”
—*—*—*—*—*
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youngbugandtonystank · 4 years ago
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what's the difference between what wanda did to those people in wandavision and what tony did with ultron?
I have so many asks about this. Hate asks, and people wondering what’s going on. This is the only one I’m answering.
Both of them are responsible for their actions. I’ve seen people try and take away either Tony’s responsibility for that or Wanda’s engagement and accountability. 
In Tony’s case, the Ultron program was supposed to be a global peacekeeping program to protect the people, acting as a suit around the world to prevent events like the Battle of New York. He was doing it in the name of peace and safety. Tony was rightfully scared because he was the only one who knew what was coming. Wanda intentionally enhanced that fear in him and this drove him to create Ultron with Bruce. He has responsibility for it. Same as Bruce. He owns up to this, he took full responsibility and agreed that they needed to be regulated. 
Tony Stark: A few years ago, I almost lost her, so I trashed all my suits. Then, we had to mop up HYDRA... and then Ultron. My fault.
--
Tony Stark: There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less, we're no better than the bad guys.
--
Tony Stark: That's good. That's why I'm here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stop manufacturing.
--
If people think he needs to be in jail for it, then I’m guessing the rest of the Avengers too since all of them have made mistakes and killed people too. As a matter of fact, after the events of Wandavision, I’m sure that Wanda should be in the Raft, but because she’s ‘a poor baby’ yall won’t think she deserves that. 
SPOILERS
It’s a big possibility that we don’t have all the info about what happened in Wandavision but we’re going to go with what we know so far. 
In Wanda’s case, she did it to appease her grief and pain, and I can understand why she would get to that point, she’s been through a lot and maybe she was about to lose her mind. Instead of recruiting Wanda after the Sokovia incident, they should’ve given this girl treatment for her mental health problems. She just lost her brother and passed through a very traumatic war zone, of course she needs assistance. Cap and Natasha were the ones responsible for her because they were training the ‘new’ avengers. Sam was with them and he used to be a counselor to veterans with PTSD. He could’ve helped Wanda with some of her traumas. As shown in the series, Wanda did the whole hex business before meeting Agatha, which means creating that little reality was all Wanda’s responsibility. Hayward and Agatha did exactly what Wanda did to Tony (and the avengers/other people) in AOU. They manipulated her and played with her emotional traumas. Hayward showed her Vision’s body parts and Agatha started to pull strings to know how Wanda did what she did and her real powers while orchestrating against her. 
Both of them have made mistakes. No one is better than the other. I don’t understand why some fans want to make someone responsible more than the other or blame one character for the other. While Wanda gave Tony that vision and pushed his self-destructive side to obsess over saving the world, he did create Ultron, what Tony didn’t predict was that the robot was going to corrupt itself. Same with Wanda, while Agatha and Hayward contributed to her trauma, she held hostage and isolated 3,892 people to create her perfect reality, ripping these people away from their identities and free will to fit her own fantasy. Don’t turn this into ‘omg poor her, it’s Tony fault that she’s this way'. I can’t believe I have to repeat this but you don’t see Peter Parker obsessively looking for the person who manufactured the gun instead of the criminal who actually killed Uncle Ben. Ridiculous that I have to repeat this example. 
Oh and about Vision’s body (damn yall have a gift to turn everything into Tony’s fault for some reason). I can’t believe some of you think Tony (while grieving for 5 years) would give Vision to Hayward. You’re either pulling stuff out of your asses or you didn’t pay attention to the show. Maria Rambeau founded and was the Director of S.W.O.R.D. In 2018 (when IW happened), this is where she came up with a new policy within S.W.O.R.D. to ground snapped agents in case they ever returned. Maria was diagnosed with cancer, then two years later (2020), she passed away. Then, Hayward was promoted to Director of S.W.O.R.D., in his first years (2020-2022) he refocused the organization’s work from extraterrestrial operations to robotics, nanotechnology and artificial intelligence, etc. There, that was the 5 years. Then in 2023 it’s when he started project Cataract, which revolved around rebuilding Vision as a sentient weapon. Tony was dead when this happened. How come yall don’t get this part? I don’t understand, do you really think his dead corpse signed some papers to give Vision to those people? LMAO
Instead of thinking Tony would give up Vision just like that, think (possibilities):
Maria was the head of S.W.O.R.D., she might have just been keeping his body safe without doing anything with him. Maybe she trusted Hayward and he, obviously, betrayed her because he’s turning her organization into something else after her death. 
One of the Sokovia Accords regulations states that the use of technology to bestow individuals (the term ‘enhanced individual’ in this book is defined as any person, human or otherwise, with superhuman capabilities) with innate capabilities is strictly regulated by the government, as is the use and distribution of highly advanced technology. Vision signed those accords ('I'm saying there may be a casualty. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict... breeds catastrophe. Oversight...oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand’) The Avengers were no longer be a private organization and they operate under the supervision of the United Nations. This means they (UN) were the ones that referred Vision’s body to S.W.O.R.D., to a trustworthy leader, Maria. 
Vision died in Wakanda, not in New York. Tony was missing for 22 days after the snap, the rest of the avengers should’ve taken responsibility for his body.  
Why is it always Tony’s fault but never consider that other parties are also involved in this? 
I want to address some other asks with this one. I know some of you are angry because people are starting to blame Tony all over again, so a few things to remember:
Tony did not create the Accords. The Accords were the result of all the collective actions the Avengers have done in their superhero careers. All of them have made mistakes and the collateral damage of that was taken into consideration by the government and 117 countries around the world. He signed the accords because he knew that he could amend them with the support of the rest of the avengers and he knew about Thanos (something big was coming). 
Obadiah Stane (it’s so bizarre for me seeing that some people don’t know who this guy is, I’m guessing that the people who are watching Wandavision are too young to remember or didn’t watch the Iron Man movies at all which is highly probable) was the one selling weapons to the wrong people, not Tony. Obadiah was the CEO of Stark industries and became second-in-command for two decades. He grew jealous of Tony and began cooperating with the Ten Rings in Afghanistan, selling them Stark Industries weapons illegally. Imagine blaming all of it on Tony when Obadiah basically murdered thousands only because he felt a little green. If someone who you trust (he had no reasons to doubt Obadiah since he was like a second father-figure for him) does something behind your back (take into consideration that people like Pepper; who was Tony’s assistant and had knowledge of all of Tony’s activities and responsibilities, Rhodey; who was the liaison between the military in the department of acquisitions and Stark Industries, and Happy Hogan; who was his personal bodyguard and Head of Security of Stark Industries, didn’t know what Stane was doing either), how are you going to know about it? Tony trusted him. And when he realized what was going on he immediately stopped all of it. He worked hard to be better and people overlook that because they want other characters to look better. 
Don’t act like Tony was the only one assisting the military. All of the avengers assisted in one way or another. Natasha (who used to be an assassin) was in the Red Room, trained in the Black Widow Program in association with Leviathan and the Soviet Armed Forces, served for KGB, etc. Bruce Banner used to work for the United States government and was commissioned to create a super serum for them. Same goes with the rest, Sam, Clint, etc. Steve Rogers was a soldier lmaoooooooooooooo like, what happened to Tony with Obadiah happened to Steve with SHIELD/HYDRA in TWS. He trusted the people working in there (SHIELD), served for them, did missions for them and as soon as he found out what they were doing behind his back he turned against them. 
Knowing all of this, how is Tony always the villain for yall? I’m guessing because Tony’s popularity in the MCU, but still, aren’t yall tired of not understanding the plot and having people repeat it to you constantly? Watch the movies if you want to understand the franchise, people. Stop following the crowd. 
Also, Wanda is not a kid, she’s a 35 year old woman in Wandavision, she was 26 in AOU and 27 in CW. Hardly a child. Tony had almost her same age (38) when he realized Obadiah was selling illegal weaponry behind his back. The only reason people don’t fully forgive Tony is because 1. he’s a man and 2. he’s a billionaire. Even if Wanda was poor she still killed and hurt many people over the course of her life. Stop trying to make Tony the villain only to downplay Wanda’s actions. 
Both have killed people, both have made mistakes. They’re both responsible for them. 
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cblgblog · 3 years ago
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Sorry I’m advance but one of my other favorite accounts just reblogged a Tony scene and people are talking about Civil War and how it made them Stan Tony, and how when they watch that movie they hate team cap👀 Then someone was all about how he was sleep deprived and how much pressure he was under and couldn’t understand how people didn’t like Tony because. Someone literally said that when someone says they don’t like Tony in Civil War they say “did you watch the same movie as me.” I’m baffled. Oddly enough someone else said, “he just wants to help everyone.” Sorry for the rant but I think people forget about what the accords are and what it would mean for people. Side note, I hope you’re having a great day/night 😀
No sorry needed!
I feel you man, I do. Honestly, I’ve unfollowed people based on similar posts when I was in especially Done moods, so.
Look on the one hand, the movie would’ve been a narrative failure if everyone was in favor of one side or the other, right? The whole point of the damn thing—besides giving the Mouse overlords more money—was to spark discussion, debate. Which, yeah, we’ll call that the tame description for what actually happened. But just, the thing was meant to split the fanbase so in that regard…winning? Thanks, I guess?
Film is also very obviously subjective, different strokes for different folks, so yeah, ten people can watch a movie and none of them are gonna see the exact same film. Let’s try to remember that this is, in theory anyway, a good thing. I just read a professional film review yesterday where I had the same reaction. What film were you watching, dude? Incidentally his reviewing partner said the same thing.
So honestly, no, they weren’t watching the same film as you or I or anyone else, because everyone brings their own biases and experiences and knowledge and interests into a thing, and that’s always going to flavor how it’s viewed. Again, let’s try to remember that this is good. In theory. Heavy on the theory.
That out of the way? Let’s get into Tony specifically so his uber stans can find this and scream at me on anon as though I just shot RDJ with a nuke.
Oh yeah, he was stressed. Oh, he was sleep deprived. Yeah, I’ve heard that. And that it’s Pepper’s fault, if she hadn’t left the poor baby, if she was there to rein him in, he’d be fine dammit, leave the baby alone!
Here’s the thing. You know who gets a pass on their shit behavior when they’re upset or tired? Actual babies. Actual babies and toddlers, and children, up to a point. Because they actually cannot always help themselves. Their bodies and brains are different, they have not learned better.
When you’re a 50-year-old man who’s supposedly the world’s bestest superhero, who wants, wants to be in charge of protecting the whole world? You need a little more self-control than that. The sleep deprived excuse works if you snap at someone before you’ve had your coffee, not for this. Roseanne Barr didn’t get to blame Ambien for her racism, Tony doesn’t get to handwave CW away because oops, I was tired.
Really? You’re a superhero, dude. Most of your teammates are tired too, that’s part of the gig. If you crash and burn this badly without your afternoon nap, fucking hang up the armor and go back to your billionaire playboy lifestyle.
Speaking of that, sure, right. It’s Pepper’s fault because she left him. Put aside the argument on whether that was justified or not (cough, it was and she should’ve stayed away even though they are adorable together). It’s not Pepper’s job to keep Tony sane. It’s not any partner’s job to do that for anyone. If she wants out, she has a right to that, without Tony going off the rails and blaming it on her. Seriously, he says part of the reason he backed the Accords was to “split the difference” with Pepper.
Dude. You were an asshole and you lost your girl. You destroyed all your suits, turned an emotional and mental corner in IM 3…and then relapsed 4 minutes later I guess because Whedon. Either way, Tony admits himself that he does not want to stop. So instead of doing that, or finding another partner who can accept that, you back an unjust international law that pits you against your team, your supposed friends? Go to therapy, have a pint of ice cream, cry into your pillow, send her more of those strawberries you sent her in IM 2 that she’s allergic to. You don’t go trying to change international law in ways that could ultimately affect millions of people because your girl left you.
Honestly—and thank God they didn’t do this but—the only way the Pepper excuse works in excusing his behavior in any way is if she’d died. Or been severely injured like Happy in IM 3. Still wouldn’t be okay, but, like Quill messing up their chance to stop Thanos because Gamora died, it would’ve been more understandable. Understandable, not excusable, and the way the MCU treats their women as manpain fodder, we’re probably legit lucky we didn’t get this.
As for him wanting to help everyone. He does in fact want that, I think. The problem is that his need to feel like he’s doing that is stronger than his rational mind, or his want to actually help in a constructive way.
Tony is too smart. He’s dumb as hell in many instances, mostly involving people and relationships, but he’s also too smart, and he’s been told for too long that he’s smart, and he’s bought into it. Ultron. Suit of armor around the world, protects the world, no more alien threats. It’s a simple concept on paper that fails in execution. So there are people with dangerous powers. Okay, we’ll make a set of laws to keep them from being dangerous, problem solved. But again, it isn’t.
Tony is not used to problems he cannot solve. He’s a genius, right? He can fix anything. He should be able to fix anything. That’s how he feels. But not everything is zeros and ones and circuits, things that can be fixed mechanically like his armors can. The people he wants to protect are not built that way. But he needs to feel like he’s doing something, because he’s terrified of what happens to the world if he doesn’t. So he creates these simple solutions to complex problems. The suit of armor, the Accords. They sound good in theory, but the problems they’re trying to solve are bigger than they are. And Tony, way back in IM 1, he sat back for years, clueless that his weapons were being used for bad things. He says it to Cap in CW. When he found out what his weapons were being used for, he went in and stopped it. Whether or not he should’ve known that already is a separate issue here. The point here is that when he found out, too late or not, he went in and did something about it.
Tony needs to do something about it. Again, go back to Cap in AoU, Tony’s nightmare sequence. Steve asks Tony why he didn’t save them. Tony’s ultimate nightmare is that he sits back and does nothing, and his inaction causes everyone to die. Which is where you get Ultron. Something he came up with because of what he saw in space in Avengers 1, then doubled down on in AoU. It’s where you get the Accords. Oops, he caused someone to die, he killed Charles Spencer. Must do something about that right now so it doesn’t happen again, and he won’t have to feel this guilt. He should be collaborating with others to come up with solutions (no Bruce in AoU doesn’t count because Bruce was dumb there), or at the very least, taking more time to think through the repercussions of the things he puts out there. But he doesn’t, because he’s got his savior complex that tells him that he alone can and must fix this, and because he’s too dumb to realize how not-smart he is in certain areas.
“We need to be put in check. Whatever form that takes, I’m game.”
Isn’t that what he says in CW, or something very close to it? Whatever form that takes. That’s the issue, right there, whatever form that takes. Realistically, yes, there should be laws regarding people with powers, the same way there are special laws pertaining to people who carry guns, or people who are licensed to fly planes. You have a thing/can do a thing that not everyone else does, so there are regulations pertaining to that thing. Laws change with the times, they always have. Some new technology comes up, eventually there will be laws that regulate it. As there should be, honestly. The issue with the Accords, Steve’s issue with the Accords, was not the basic idea. He says as much. He says that it could work, but there would have to be safeguards. Safeguards that are not in the Accords that Tony wants him to sign.
It's not a matter of oh, fuck the law, there should be no law governing these people, they’re above it. The problem is that the law as it’s presented here is unjust. There’s what, a month between Lagos and Ross coming by to tell them about the Accords? A month is not enough time to properly analyze such a big issue, Especially when you’re reacting out of fear, which is what happened with Lagos. People died because of an Enhanced person, an Avenger, in this case. Lawmakers don’t want that to happen again, they especially don’t want the political shit storm that comes with it. Damn, we look like we were asleep at the switch here, not having anything to throw at this problem earlier. Quick, let’s throw together this thing so no one can say we’re not addressing the problem.
Patriot Act of 2001, anyone? 9/11 happened, the public were rightfully terrified, the US said oh man, these are unprecedented circumstances, we’ve never had this before. Don’t worry though, we’re on this, we’re protecting you. The reality being that that bill simply gave the government too much power, most of it being used against people who were not actually threats, and it’s debatable, to say the very least, whether or not that law helped more than it hurt.
No law is perfect. No law ever will be. It’s not possible. We still have to strive for perfection though, have to aim there so that the laws we get are as close to fair as possible. Tony’s a big deal. If not for his “whatever form that takes” attitude, he might’ve been able to use his influence to pressure lawmakers into coming up with a fairer bill. Hey, I’m me, the public loves me, I will endorse this bill publicly and work on getting the rest of the team to sign, but you need to change this and this and this first, or no deal. Instead, he took the easy way out, the quickest, easiest way for him to feel like he’s atoned for his sins without actually doing anything. Whatever form that takes.
Tony’s not wrong because he backs the creation of a law that addresses these things. He’s wrong because he says himself that he does not care what that law does, specifically, so long as it exists. He’s wrong because he violates said law upteen times during the movie, while preaching to team Cap about what assholes they are for not backing it. He’s wrong because he cares more about feeling as though he’s tackled a problem than he does about taking the time to make sure that the thing he’s proposing is actually a good idea. He’s wrong because of what he does with Bucky, though that’s honestly a separate issue, for the purposes of this discussion.
Anyway, that was longer than I ever wanted it to be. Damn. Next time you see a comment about CW being the reason people stan Tony, just remember there are other people out there who stopped stanning Tony because of that movie. Everyone’s entitled to see a piece of media however they see it, and although the Tony stans are often the loudest, there are plenty of like-minded people out there who share your take on events. Block who you need to, unfollow who you need to, blacklist what you need to, and don’t let them get you down.
Hang in there, and have an awesome day :)
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batfamspews · 3 years ago
Text
Red Robin and Jason have been battling each other in an abandoned building for the past fifteen minutes and the fight ended with Jason victorious and Tim flat on his back on the ground. Both of them are bleeding and have several internal wounds.
Jason: *going to jump out of a nearby window* It’s been fun, replacement! Though I have to admit, I think you’re getting a little rusty. You used to be so strategic, but now you’re just pure chaos. I like the change but it makes you pretty easy to beat. Probably should start thinking things through again.
Tim: *deadpan, unflinching, staring at the ceiling*
Jason: *Confused because just a couple of seconds ago Tim was bustling with squirrel-like energy* Hey man, you good?
Tim: Yeah man just rethinking my life.
Jason: Ah. *goes to jump out the window but then hesitates and looks back at Tim. Not a single muscle in his body has flinched. Jason figures he had better stick around and keep an eye on him since he’s pretty sure he heard bones breaking during their fight and he wants to make sure he didn’t paralyze or give Tim brain damage.* You wanna talk about it? *goes and sits down next to Tim*
Tim: Eh, life sucks, you know? Fight all night, work all day, study. I’m supposed to be the smart one, right? What if I can’t keep up? What if I crack and lose it? What if someone smarter comes along? Besides, I can’t help but feel like I’m just ticking every one off.
Jason: *surprised but slightly amused that his straight-rod, genius brother would have such a poor opinion of himself* Heeeey, come on, little Red! You don’t suck that much! I mean, I do get sick and tired of your virtuous crap every once and a while, hence me beating you to a bloody pulp right now, but you’ve got a good head and heart! What’s making you feel so down?
Tim: …
Tim: Tried to make supper the other night. Alfred got food poisoning. He’s still in the hospital.
Jason: So you’re guilty?
Tim: *smiles* Yes but that’s just a part of it. I’m in charge of making my own food now, but since I’m scared that I’ll poison myself I’ve only been drinking a concoction I made up a while ago that I know won’t kill me.
Jason: Yeah? What?
Tim: Iced coffee made with Red Bull instead of water.
Jason: …
Jason: ……. .. . …
Jason: That sounds disgusting
Tim: It absolutely is.
Jason: How long has this been going on?
Tim: About a week?
Jason: ??? And that’s all you’ve had?
Tim: I mean, I ate some Nachos last night and I have an emergency stash of pop tarts in my room that I finished off the first two days.
Jason: ???????
Jason: AND YOU DONT EAT OUT WHY???
Tim: *shrugs* The Red Bull iced coffee gives me energy. Kinda sucks though because I crash when it wares off and have another identity crisis. I should really get some more before the tremors.
Jason: CHRIST TIMOTHY I THOUGHT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE SMART???
Tim: You know, there’s a line between intelligence and wisdom- oh crap here they come. Totally jinxed myself.
*Jason stares in disbelief as Tim’s whole body starts shaking. He start to say something but Tim- doubled over in pain- holds up a hand to make him wait. The tremors stop after a few seconds.*
Tim: I should probably grab some more coffee or something before that happens again. You wouldn’t happen to have an energy drink on you, wouldja? I’d get some myself, but I’m pretty sure you broke something in my leg and it hurts to move it.
Jason: For the love of God, Tim, you need professional help. Call Bruce to come pick you up???
Tim: I don’t really feel like talking to Bruce right now. I don’t want to get lectured again.
Jason: …
Jason: Fair enough, but I’m not leaving you here like this. I may not be an exceptional brother or anything but I’m pretty sure it would be considered child abuse if I let you torture yourself this way.
Tim: *laughs* you just broke my bones and beat me into submission.
Jason: you were being annoying.
Tim: And besides, Bruce doesn’t stop me.
Jason: IF YOU THINK FOR ONE SECOND THAT IM GOING TO LET YOU PUT ME ON THE SAME LEVEL AS THAT MAN THEN YOU ARE DEAD WRONG. *Basically picks Tim up*
Tim: ??? Where are we going?
Jason: TO MY APARTMENT SO YOU CAN GET THE PROFESSIONAL CARE THAT YOU REALLY NEED.
Tim: Bruce is gonna be ticked. I’ve still got another hour on patrol.
Jason: IF YOU THINK FOR A SINGLE GOSHDANG MOMENT THAT IM GOING TO LET YOU STAY OUT HERE WITH A BROKEN BONE AND CAFFEINE-INDUCED SEIZURES THEN YOU ARE DEAD WRONG!
Tim: I don’t wanna tell him that-
Jason: GOOD BECAUSE I DO. HOLY COW, TIM, ARE THE OTHERS AS BAD OFF AS YOU ARE?
Tim: I mean? Dick’s been out of town so I’m gonna assume he’s doing fine. The Kents have invited Damian’s vegan butt into their household until Alfred recovers. Pretty sure Babs, Steph and Cass are surviving on hot pockets and chicken nuggets.
Jason: NOT MY GOOD GOOD GIRLS! That’s it, you’re coming home with me and are not leaving until you are fully recovered. I’m gonna call the girls too. Tonight you four are going to have a round, home cooked meal. *carries him down the stairs* Geez, kid, you’re skin and bones. On no accounts should you be this light. And you look like a zombie! Is this just the malnutrition, or are you not sleeping either?
Tim: I mean, I’ve passed out a couple of times…
Jason: TIMOTHY DRAKE WAINE
Tim: The caffeine made sleeping virtually impossible, though now that it’s wearing off I do feel a bit drowsy…
Jason: Normally I would not give an idiot like you the permission to rest while I’m helping them out but for the love of everything that is holy, Timothy, go to sleep!
Tim: Dope. *immediately passes out*
Jason brings Tim to his apartment and puts him on the couch. Jason already has a nutritious vegetable and beef stir fry ready for the girls when they arrive. He’s also made broth that Cass spoon-feeds Tim when he wakes up shaking. They’ve all turned off their coms, so when Batman desperately calls Red-Hood’s home phone for help, Jason tells him what a horrible father he’s been lately and that even a problem child like himself would make a better parent. Cass, Steph and Babs leave after supper, but have agreed with Jason to eat lunch and supper at his place until Alfred got back. Jason called Nightwing up, told him the situation and asked him to come back to Gotham to deal with Bruce. The next morning Jason brought Tim to the hospital to get an X-ray done on his leg. When they found out it was fractured, Jason arranged for a very exhausted but thankful Tim to stay at his apartment until it healed, even when Alfred recovered. During that period he was able to break Tim’s eating habits and introduce him to healthier options. According to Jason, “I might be a ‘danger to society’ and a ‘homicidal maniac,’ but at least I can make a half decent home cooked meal for my poor starving siblings!”
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miss-choco-chips · 4 years ago
Text
Bird Watchers
It was something like an open secret in Gotham, that even though all it’s heroes were open to help no matter the situation, each one of them had a special affinity to certain matters.
For example, children from all districts knew to yell for Nightwing if they found themselves lost and scared. Small business owners often painted little Oracle symbols on their doorsteps, to warn away possible thieves with the knowledge that Gotham’s cryptic hacker had their eye on them. Working girls would send a quick prayer to the Red Hood before seeing their seediest clients; and as such, knew who to call for if things took a turn for the worst.
And Red Robin… well. His was a very specific bunch.
---.---
Warnings: depression, suicide attempts, overdose comic-typical violence (discussed, not explicit). Hurt-comfort all the way, baby. There’s also one scene, with the redhead, that I copied from the comics.
(it’s almost 2 am, I wrote half of this in one go, don’t @ me for mistakes. I’ll edit tomorrow. Maybe.)
---.---
The first time he stopped a suicide, he had just turned thirteen. The suit still felt wrong, too loose in all the places where Jason’s bigger presence would have been a better fit. Too small, too brainy, not brash enough, not good enough.
He would never think himself worthy, but he was all Batman had. There were no other candidates, not ones he could have thrown the job at without risking Bruce’s identity, so he’d have to make do.
But even so, he had been gaining a little confidence over the past few months. His training with Shiva, and Dick’s and Bruce’s focus on making him as ready for the streets as humanly possible, had ensured he never encountered a situation where he couldn’t handle himself, or get back up in time to avoid any casualties.
Except for right now.
“Hey! Don’t do it, please!”
Yeah, maybe yelling at the man precariously balanced on the edge of a how many feet tall building wasn’t his wisest moment. He’d berate himself later. Now was freak out time.
Said man stumbled for a second before regaining his footing and turning to look at Tim. He couldn’t be more than forty, with a bit of an overgrown beard and tired eyes. He had something clutched in one hand, tanned and calloused from work, the other over his chest, probably due to the scare of having a bat suddenly appearing behind him.
“R-Robin…”, he gasped, shook out of whatever reverie he was going through for a second. “W-what… I mean, why are you…?”
‘Okay, Tim, breath. Can’t call B, he’ll notice, get startled and jump. Can I catch him if he does? My grappling hook is made to withstand more than my weight, but if I can’t handle the strain of swinging us both to safety…’
He couldn't risk it.
“Good evening, Mr…?”
Surprise and good manners made the man automatically answer, “Ed. Ed Harrinson.”
Encouraged, Tim took a tiny teeny step forward. Ed’s entire body shock and he leaned backwards. Tim froze, fear keeping his breathing and heartbeat hostages for the time being, stopping the first and kick starting the second.
“Mr Harrinson, I’d like to ask you to step away from the edge? I’ll call an ambulance for you, and…”
“No!”, the man screamed, suddenly over his surprise, a look of determination trying to masquerade his obvious exhaustion. “If you call an’one, I’ll jump.”
Tim wisely kept the ‘you were gonna do it anyway’ to himself. He nodded slowly, hands emerging from the confines of his cape to show Mr Harrinson the lack of a communication device.
“I won’t, then, but may I come closer? Please?”
It was on the last word, high pitched and wavering, that the man cracked. With wary demeanor, he waved him over, pointing to a patch of rooftop a little far but close enough for Tim to feel comfortable- or as comfortable as he’d get, in these circumstances.
As he approached, he could feel the man analyzing him. The little gasp when he stood by his side didn’t go unnoticed.
“You are… smaller than I imag’ned. Too small for a bat. My boy’s taller than you” he mused, likely to himself, but Tim grasped onto that bit of information and clutched at it with both hands, desperately.
“I’m short compared to my peers, so maybe I’m the same age as your son. How old is he?”, he asked, in his most conversational tone. Fear still had a grasp over both his lungs and heart.
Something in the man’s face shifted.
“He… he just turned fifteen.” Older than Tim, then. Ed continued, “He’s… ”, in a second, the sadness was replaced by pride, “he’s grown up p’tty well, if I say so m’self. A fine young man, that kid. He’ll go places.”
For a beat, Tim tried to imagine his own dad here. As much as he’d hate to see Jack in Mr Harrinson’s place, he couldn't help but wonder if he’d be talking about him the same way Ed spoke about his son.
He… didn’t think so. If on the verge of death, thoughts about his son would probably be the farthest from his dad’s mind.
“You sound like you love him very much. He’s a lucky guy” he said sincerely, a tendril of hopefulness still twisted around his stomach. His hands weren’t shaking any longer, finding solace in the fact that the man in front of him didn’t look like he was about to jump right that second.
Mr Harrinson’s face fell.
“Got served an’ unlucky hand, with an old man like me”, his eyes went back to the abyss, to the empty, poor litten streets below them. “Go ‘way, kid. Leave m’ be. Notta business what I do. Gotta do this f’r my kid.”
Fear came back, full force.
“I- Sorry, but I can’t help but think about your son”, he blurted out, the only bit of information he had about the man was his only tendril of hope. “Someone who loves his child as much as you seem to must be a good father. A father that… would be missed dearly, if lost so young.”
Mr Harrinson looked even more devastated. Tim was doing this all wrong, wasn’t he?
“There’s no other way t’ keep’im safe!'' he yelled, and for a minute Tim thought he had decided to jump then and there. Instead, he dropped to his knees, hands to his head, paper still clutched in one fist. “They’ll get to him if I don’t! Once I’m dead, they’ll just leave’im alone!”
Tim crouched next to him, tentative.
“Who is ‘they’, sir? Maybe I could help…”
Ed was already shaking his head.
“Nay, they said not to go to the bats. Kill my boy, they will, if I do. Seen them offing others for less, so I believe them.”
“Ah, but I’m too short to be a bat, am I not?” he smiled, wobbly at best but sincere. “Besides, who’s gonna tell them you spoke to me? I”, he gestured to his mask, “know how to keep a secret.”
He considered for a beat, before tired shoulders fell, defeated. He offered the slip of paper towards him, unseeing eyes on the street below.
Robin read the note carefully, noting the sloppy penmanship and cheap paper as well as the message itself.
“Mr Harrinson…”
“I know”, he whispered, “I know working for the Black Mask wasn’t my best idea. But m’boy needed to eat, and the landlord was gettin’ impatient. And now, for whatever reason, boss wants me dead. And if I make ‘im dirty his own hands, he’ll dirty ‘em twice and send me with my son for company to the other side. Felix is too young, and he’s good. Can’t let ‘im pay f’ his old man m’stakes, ya hear me?”
Tim thought his words over carefully.
“Mr Harrinson… I don’t think this comes from Black Mask himself”, for one, Blackie wasn’t one to avoid blood on his gloves, nor to send such a shitty note. The man lived for the drama, like most A-listers did, and he’d never forgo the aesthetic of an expensive peachment and beautifully worded threat. Also, if he wanted this man gone, he would have put a bullet in his head the second he clocked in; and if it were revenge he was after, he wouldn't have gotten a warning note but his son’s head sent to him instead.
He folded the paper and put it into one of his multiple pockets, free hand going to the man’s shoulder.
“I know Black Mask’s M.O, mister, and this is not it”, no need to spook him further by describing what it was, though. “Probably just a colleague who wanted your position, or has a grudge for whatever reason. And that, I can help you with. If you work with me on this one, we can both make sure Felix has his Dad making breakfast for him tomorrow morning, and all the days after that. After all”, he smiled, no longer uncertain now that he had firm ground to work with, “your son is going places, and he’ll have to be well fed to reach them, right?”
Mr Harrinson’s smile must have had magical properties, Tim thought. There was no other explanation for the way it returned his breath back to his body.
---.----
The next time he saw a jumper, a few months later, he was slightly more ready for it. Bruce had congratulated him on his work with Mr Harrinson, and the subsequent raid they could make on one of Black Mask’s warehouses thanks to the man’s information, but Tim hadn’t been satisfied until he had read every single mission report on the batcomputer about attempted suicides. And succeed ones, too. Need to know what went well and what didn’t, after all.
So when he saw the fifty-something woman crying on top of a tower in City Hall District, he didn’t almost-crash in his attempt to get there in time. He landed softly, making just enough noise to let her know she wasn’t alone, but careful to not startle her.
“It’s a little cold up here, Lady. If you’d like, I can walk you home?”, he tries for cheeky, despite the cold fear nesting in his stomach like a grumpy, spiteful bird.
The woman, sitting by the edge, turned her head to look at him. The movement called attention to her long, strawberry blonde hair, neatly braided, and her pretty diamond earrings. The face under her perfect make up was gaunt and pale, tear tracks cleaning paths of skin to his trained eye.
Despite him interrupting what probably were very private thoughts, she smiled at his approach, kind and polite. It didn’t reach her eyes, but the intent to put him at ease was generous enough.
“I may be a lady, but any adult worth their salt would insist on walking the young child home, instead of the opposite. Besides”, she patted the rooftop under her,” I live here, so it’s not a long walk at all.”
Tim stepped closer, carefully.
“May I sit?”
“I could use the company for a bit”, she accepted, head turning back to the city below.
They sat there for a few minutes in silence, before Tim’s soft voice broke it again.
“Is there anything I can do to help convince you not to do it? Please?”
The lady smiled. “You are a very sweet boy.”
“That’s… not an answer. Can I at least know why?”
“Won’t it torment you, in the future, if we speak now?”, she asked a question of her own, turning to face him again. Despite her words, there was nothing but kindness in those deep green eyes. “If you don’t know me, I’m just another one who jumped. If we talk, I’m afraid I might stay with you long after I’m gone. You are too young for that kind of weight.”
Tim swallowed. 
“That’s easily solved, Miss;”, Dick’s rule of thumb; if unsure, always call a lady Miss before Mrs “don’t do it.”
She spared him a long, meaningful look, and he slumped over.
“Not my best, I know, but I’m kinda freaking out now?” She wasn’t like Mr Harrinson, no motive he could see, no strand to pull and unravel her pain. “Please, just… why?”
She patted one of the hands gripping his own knee. His other hand rushed over hers, sandwiching her cold, slim fingers between his gloved palms.
“There’s nothing left for me. I have a nice job, live in a pretty side of town, have friends, and still… it feels so empty. So… Meaningless. Why even bother?”
Tim chewed on her words silently. He was way out of his depth. A tangible, physical problem? He could solve those, no biggie.
Depression, though… that was a different giant to tackle. Was he even prepared enough to?
A strong gust of wind made the lady with braided hair shiver. Without thought, Tim unclasped his cape and draped it over her slim shoulders.
“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, head tilted like a curious woodland animal. Tim felt strongly protective of her, of this kind, sweet lady, who said she had it all, except the one thing that mattered to her.
“I’m used to it”, he shrugged. “This suit is very warm, but cold air often trickles down from the neckline and… well. Gigs of the job and all that.”
The lady tutted, frowning for the first time since Tim arrived.
“That won’t do, young man. You need a scarf. The nights will only get colder from now on.”
He shrugged again.
“I just… don’t have the time to buy one. And I had one, but… There’s these kids who often hang out by the park, and they were so cold, I just couldn't swing by and ignore them. So I gave them my scarf to share between them. I’m just kinda bummed that I don’t have more to make sure they all stay warm.”
The braided haired lady hummed for a second.
“Well… I knit”, she started, carefully. “I don’t have children or grandchildren to give my final products to, so they’ll go to waste after I’m gone. If you’d take them out of my hands, you’ll do me a favor.” 
Tim wanted to say no, unwilling to make this any easier for her, but the chance of getting her away from the edge was enough to quell his voice.
She went and came back within minutes, a big cardboard box balanced over her shaky arms. He rose to help her, meeting the woman halfway through the roof, a good distance away from the abyss.
“This red one would look good with your suit… oh, and the green one, to keep with the theme! Or maybe the yellow one… Shame pink would be such a bad fit for your colors, because that wool is the best I worked with…”
Tim’s hand carefully took said carf out and looked it over. There were about six others in the box.
“I could take this to those kids I mentioned before… It’d still not be enough for all, but more to share between them means less cold.”
She hummed again, looking at the unfinished projects on the bottom of the box.
“If… If you give me a few days…” she muttered. “I mean, I’m in no rush”, a hand vaguely gestured towards the rooftop’s edge. “I could spare a few days finishing those, and you could take them to these kids you spoke about… and maybe, I can help make a few children less cold with this silly hobby of mine.”
Elated beyond words, Tim nodded vigorously, waxing poetry about her work and about just how excited little Ellie would be with this soft, pretty pink scarf.
His patrol route could use a few detours, after all, if that meant keeping Braided Hair Lady away from her roof.
---.----
He was just returning from a late supply run when he bumped into The Cats.
It was in an alleyway, a block off from Mrs Eloise Denvarow (formerly known as Braided Hair Lady). The older woman had caved after three months knowing each other, of Tim passing by her apartment once every other night to pick up her baked goods or knitted masterpieces, to distribute between street kids and working girls, and told him her name. It was said in passing (“Stop with that ‘Lady’ thing, honey. It’s Eloise”), as if lacking importance, when in reality it meant the world to him. Sure, he’d already known, having run a background check on her the minute he came back to the cave after stopping her from jumping, but there was that implicit vow between them, that she wouldn't tell him her name and jump, wouldn’t make him carry its weight on his shoulders forever, so it was… it was a promise, on her end, a reassurance, and Tim wasn’t even embarrassed that he cried in her arms like a baby for ten minutes.
So here he was, a month after that, still riding that high, when the desperate call from below caught his attention.
There were two teens on the dirty ground, nested among cracked bottles and old newspapers. The girl was lying in the boy’s arms, with him screaming for help.
“Robin! Thank fuck!”, he almost sobs, arms visibly tightening around the girl. Tim wants to ask how he knew to call for him, and if the proximity to Mrs Denvarow’s place was luck or not.
But it wasn’t the time to ask.
The girl was pale, which only highlighted the bruises on her face. Someone with a big fist punched her. It doesn't seem likely, considering just how distraught the other kid is, but he checks his hands just in case; fortunately, too small for that kind of damage.
She’s also breathing erratically and, when he puts a gloved hand to her neck, he realizes just how crazy her pulse is. 
Fear Toxin? Except Scarecrow is still in Arkham as far as he knows, and even if he had gotten away recently, he needs time to develop his precious chemicals. Joker’s Venom and Mad’s Hatter drugs don’t have quite this results, and Ivy doesn’t usually attack street girls just for kicks; they are also too far from her usual turf for her to be a viable suspect.
So, that leaves very few choices.
“Overdose?”, he ventures a guess, hand already fumbling through the pockets on his belt.
The other boy sobs harder, nodding while looking down at the girl in his arms. Tim gently takes the girl from him to position her straighter, to help her down the vial he finally found in his belt. It was supposed to help flush out any chemical in a few minutes, tops; they usually used it when a new type of Crazy Criminal Drug made its way to the streets and they didn’t have the time to properly prepare an antidote. It was strong, and vicious in its path to devoid the body of any and all external agents, which was why it wasn’t a preferred method; who’s to say the civilian in need of a flush isn’t in some important medicine? The Big Flush, as Dick calls it, lacked any kind of finesse or discrimination.
But it was their best shot right now, so there goes nothing. 
There’s silence while they watch the girl’s progress. He doesn’t bother asking if he called for an ambulance; they are obviously minors, probably homeless, and even if the Wayne Foundation takes care of children’s hospital fees, they’d avoid it to keep themselves out of the foster system.
But then, the kid kept talking.
“I… I found her near Grant Park. I… I didn’t know what to do, so I dragged her here. She/” and then he breaks again, hands grasping one of hers, as if letting go meant he was giving up on her and he couldn't bear it.
“Grant Park is only five blocks away,” Tim thinks out loud, mind already a mile away “and Moench’s Row illicit night clinic is about the same distance from there as this place. Why did you bring her here?”
“She… Alley… Oh, her name’s Allison, by the way. And I’m Thomas. Tom.” Introductions, miraculously, seem to do the trick here and calm him down. “Nice to meetcha.”
Tim’s not deterred by his toothy grin, but he has to admit he’s kinda cute. Like, stray cat cute.
Huh. Alley, Tom, cat… Yeah, that checks.
“What happened with Allison?” he presses softly, one arm still keeping Alley up and against his chest, the other hand on her pulse point, taking note of the way the heartbeat seems to be stabilizing. The puking fest was gonna start soon.
“She… It was on purpose.” Tom confesses, eyes going clouded for a while. “She tries to not be home, yknow? I met her in kindergarten, and even then she’d try to hide behind the teacher’s desk in hopes they’d forget about her and close the building with her inside. Anyway, we pretty much live on the streets these days, and Alley… she’s very depressed. I convinced her to see someone a while ago, even stol/ I mean, earned the money for it myself”, he’s quick to correct, eyes glancing up to see if he was smooth enough to cover it; which he wasn’t, but Tim was in favor of letting that small one go, “and they gave her a prescription for antidepressants. She’s been kicking it down the road, but she’s gotten a lot worse and I wouldn't lay off her case about it, so she sneaked back home to get some money from her folks to pay for it.”
By the way the kid looks at her bruised face with unmeasurable guilt, Tim knows she didn’t go unnoticed.
“And… I don’t know. We were supposed to meet up by the Commerce Street Highway, but she was late, so I walked around for a bit and… I saw her there, on a bench. She was/ she was still conscious then, and she told me… she said ‘these aren’t what the doc gave me, but they took the pain away all the same’.” Again, Tom chokes on his own emotions. If he had any free hands, he’d try to put one on his shoulder for comfort. “I don’t even know what she took, or where did she get it from!”
Tim has heard whispers of loan sharks and drug dealres camping toghter by the Fashion Distric, just north of Grant Park, so he can make an informed guess as to how that happened. Also, he now knows what he’ll do the rest of the night, once these kids are safe.
When Tom has gotten a grasp of himself, he pushes again.
“So, why did you bring her here?”
He shrugs, a bit abashed.
“Well… I mean, everyone knows about how Mrs Denvarow is the one giving clothes and food away, and that you help her distribute it. Well, not everyone, but… you know, the street kids. We flagged her building with a yellow skull and everything.”
A yellow skull grafitti, Tim’s mind translates, is the street equivalent of a ‘don’t fuck with this place’ sing. A sort of protective sigil. He wonders how he missed it.
“And… This is kind of your thing, right? So I figured you’d be better prepared to deal with it than some overworked clinic that might even not have enough free equipment to help us. Good think I did, too” he gestures at his friend, whose face is now looking flushed; a sign both of growing health, and of the upcoming puke. Tim’s quick to turn her so her back is to his chest, head tilted down just in case.
As if rehearsed, Alley chose that exact second to empty the contents of her now flushed stomach. Tim would need a sample of that, to catch the responsible dealer.
Tom held her hair away from her face while Tim kept her steady, and she blinked bearily at them after it was done, still not completely lucid but a world away from the girl she was ten minutes ago.
“She’ll still need a hospital.'' Tim informs Tom sternly. The boy had taken his friend in his arms again, softly rubbing her back to help with the uncomfortable ache leftover after puking your guts out. “The Moench’s Row clinic should be able to help with any side effect, but she’s safe for now.”
He nods, thanks Tim again and again and politely refuses his help to take her to the clinic. They part ways, both parties probably thinking this would be the last time they saw each other.
Still, their situation sticks with Tim during the rest of his patrol, and he decides to stop by the clinic, just to check on them. His knuckles still ache from the absolute beating he delivered to the ones who gave Alley the money and sold her the drugs, so he’s in better spirits and hopes to spread it to the kids.
Alley is awake when he visits, and her shy, little smile is enough for the rage inside of Tim to die down. The bad guys dealt with, the civilians safe, everything in its proper place.
He sleeps a bit better that night.
---.----
He almost doesn’t see him. 
Actually, he probably wouldn't have, deeply lost into his own head, had the guy been anything other than a redhead. That exact shade of  orangy-brown auburn, that he would have to pick up from his workbench at Titan’s tower after Bart had decided to ‘keep him company’ during his all-nighters. 
It was ironic, how now he would give anything in the world to have those same strands of hair fucking up his experiments, if only for the impish, ‘please-don’t-kill-me-I’m-an-angel’ smile he would receive in exchange.
“Hey”, he greets, landing softly at the man’s right, sitting a few feet away from him, too tired to even stand up on common ground. “What’s happening?”
He shouldn’t be doing this. He really, really shouldn’t. His own mental health was less than stellar, and even thinking about it made him feel worse. He didn’t deserve to feel bad, not when civilians were in the hospital after his latest fuck up, Cass was missing, Cassie barely hanging in there, the family a mess with Damian’s lovely introduction, and… well. Every other person he knew…
Point being, there must be someone else, in a better inner place, that could speak to this guy. But since no one seemed to be patrolling this route, Tim could only hope to stall him long enough for a more capable vigilante to show up.
The guy looks startled, then angry. He has green eyes, he notices, under the glasses. Not sure why that sticks to him.
“What are you doing here? You’re not going to try to stop me, are you? You’re not going to swing down and catch me in mid air or something, are you?”
He seems defensive, but Tim notices a bit of hesitancy. He has worked with less.
(He wishes he had more energy to do more with what little he has)
“No. If I did, what’s to stop you from doing it again later, or tomorrow? I can’t be with you every second.  If you want to do this, you are going to, no matter how much I don’t want you to. And I don’t want you to, just so we are clear.”
The guy still looks suspicious, but he hasn’t taken that last step forward, so… a win?
“I just needed to sit down for a minute. ‘been thinking about all the ways I’ve screwed up lately, and…”
Auburn-hair deflates a little, turning away from Tim to examine the night sky. “Well, that makes two of us.”
The bat signal lights up the night. His newfound companion looks at it, then him. “Do you need to get that?”
“Nah. Batman will, and if he needs help he’ll call me.” Tim shrugs. He needs a coffee-power-up. He needs to sleep. He needs for his loved ones to not be dead.
He needs to see if there’s anything he can do for this guy.
“So, do you want to tell me why you’re doing this? So someone can go to your family and friends to let them know?”
After all, if it was him who did it (and… wasn’t that food for thought?), he’d like Bruce and Dick to know why. To not… to not blame themselves.
Redhead looks annoyed again. Uh. A short fuse, this one.
“Don’t try any psychology, or try to make me feel guilty about hurting anyone… this isn't about anyone but me.”
He shouldn’t say it, but… “That’s pretty naive,  but whatever. Tell me anyway.” He smirks a bit, then “Unless you’re in a hurry or something.”
He hears the guy (he really should ask his name) as he tells his story. A cold, clinical part of his mind recognizes the symptoms described almost unconsciously by the guy as depression. He would know, after all. The other part of him, the part that made him Robin, that made him human, discarded the label; there was much more to this guy than his illness, and he would treat him like it.
“So here I am,” he finishes, now sitting side by side with Tim, both their legs hanging above the bustling city. “Now’s when you tell me how stupid this is. That other people have much bigger problems, there’s hunger and war, and I’m weak because my problems are nothing next to stuff like that.”
Tim thinks of a father, desperately thinking his death would save his son’s life, when in fact it would have only made it worse. He thinks of a woman, so full of love and warmth, looking into the abyss and feeling empty inside. He thinks of a couple of kids, one hanging to life with nails and teeth, the other hanging to her just as fiercely.
He thinks about himself. About looking at a future version of himself, hating what he sees, and deciding to drown the bud before it can even flower. He thinks of sickly green water, of cloning equipment in a laboratory, of a phone falling to the ground after delivering him with more bad news.
He’s still in a bad place, still probably not the most capable person to be doing this, but a part of him is sure this is the right answer. The only answer.
“No. Your problems are worse than anyone else’s, because they are yours. I’ve... felt bad like you have, and some pretty bad things have happened to me.”
Red hair looks as tired as Tim feels, so it’s a surprise that he has enough energy to glance at him worriedly, hand stretching a bit in his direction in a half-formed attempt to comfort.
“You guys make it look so easy, swinging around, having fun… Things get bad for you, too?”
Tim looks down, and smiles. It’s a sad, bitter thing. He thinks about parents lost before ever connecting to them, about a girlfriend going away, a sister lost to the madness of their lives, about two best friends gone, one even dying in his arms. 
He gives no details. Doesn’t talk about it all, just shares a little bit of himself. It’s only fair, after hearing about this guy’s demons. Misery loves company, doesn’t it?
“So what do you do? How do you deal with it?” the guy asks when he’s done, looking at Tim by the corner of his not-very-dry eyes.
Tim forces himself to remember. “One of the things I’ve learned is that it gets bad for everyone sometimes, Superman, Batman… everyone. I remember that I’m not alone, that things do get better. Sometimes on their own, most times when you work at them. And when I have trouble remembering those things, I find people to talk to.”
Most of those were dead, but Tim is hit with the epiphany that not all of them are. He still has people. He still…
“And you’ve got people like that? That you can talk to?” asks the guy, tone both worried and hopeful. Tim stands up, does his best to look calm.
“Yeah. Your folks, and old friend, even a trained counselor you’ve never met before… someone who has a totally different perspective because they’re not as close to your problems as you are. Maybe they give you advice, and that’s great… or maybe they just listen. Sometimes, that’s all you need. Anyway, that’s how I deal with it when things suck. And it works. Want to come down from there and give it a try?”
The guy gets back to his feet, as Tim watches from behind. Having been in this situation before, the fear grabbing a hold of him isn’t new, but it's different. He thinks he's too worn down. It takes the edge off of any emotion. 
Except hope. Hope still hurts like a sharp knife when it’s snatched away. He prays it won’t be, right now.
Green eyes (Jason- that’s who they reminded him of) look down, deep in thought. Then he turns, smiles at Tim. There’s hope in him too.
“Yeah, why not?”
They get down together. He gives him a few numbers and they have breakfast together. The guy promises to call his English teacher, at least. Tim promises himself to call his brother.
At least, he still has Dick.
---.----
He’s been putting off doing his rounds since he came back, he knows. But…
It changed him, a bit. Going around the world, dealing with his grief while staying on his toes, ready to break down one second and having to field off attacks from all sides the next, with the Demon’s honeyed whispers echoing in his ear and mind. 
He’ll never tell anyone, just how tempting it had been. How much he had wanted to reach for that offered hand. To lay his head on someone’s shoulder and let the responsibility bleed from his.
Tim will never tell anyone, but he’ll always know. And it’ll always make him hate himself a little bit more.
So, he’s different now. And he’s scared- that the people he gave hope to, that he talked with, that he could never stop thinking about, even halfway across the world- that they won’t like this new, worn down him.
That Mr Harrinson the Good Father, Braided Hair Lady and her sweaters, the inseparable Stray Cats, the girl with the bright yellow cardigan, the kid with the scarred wrists, the woman with beautiful star-like freckles that she’ll hopefully pass on to her baby, the gentle giant man with calloused hands, the petite but fierce young teen with defiant eyes and dead name, the soft spoken girl with the loudest laugh, auburn-haired boy and his hopeful and sympathetic green eyes… and so, so many more. They all knew him, maybe not at his best, but certainly better than now. The boy that kept them from jumping had been a bright, magical Robin. The teen that came back to their city was dark, weary Red Robin. It felt kinda like he had cheated them, returning this broken version of himself to their doorsteps.
But he had to go check on all of them. Even if Cass (and it was such a relief, that even after he lost everything else, the return of his sister could at least be a speck of light in the mist of misery surrounding him) had promised to do so, there were so many of them… and she couldn't possibly remember everyone, all the time. And if anyone had fallen through the gaps… if anyone had stood on a rooftop, waiting for their Robin to save them, only to think ‘nobody cares’ as he didn’t show up…
Tim gets sick only thinking about it. If it did happen, then he needs to know. He has to carry their names with him, that’s the least he can do for failing them.
So he’ll go check on them… anytime now. Soon. The moment he gathers enough energy to climb back to his feet and get his grapple hook out.
...The city looks full of life, beneath him. Like it feels the return of its Knight. The end of the internal quarrel among it’s vigilantes, that almost tore it all apart. The relief in Nightwing, the hesitant peace in Red Hood, the mellowing of Robin.
(He was feeling poetic tonight, in the worst ways)
Maybe it also feels Red Robin’s emptiness. Maybe that’s why it's so lively down there, like the ground is calling to him, just as it did when Ra’s broke the window with his body.
He thinks... he won’t have to check on anyone, if he jumps. And that way, there will be no name to carry with him to his grave.
“Robin!”
“Stop!”
“Don’t do it, please!”
He startles. Hadn’t even noticed when he got to his feet, nor that one of them was hanging over the abyss. The fact that he wasn’t alone on that rooftop any longer hadn’t even breached his usually perfect spatial awareness.
They didn’t call for him, but the voices sounded distraught, they were close, and he was a former Robin, so he turned around, tired, but with obedience and service too ingrained in him to consider denying help to whoever it was.
It turned out, he wouldn't need to go make his rounds any longer. His rounds had come to him.
There were… too many people on this roof. It was way too crowded.
“Robin!”
It was one voice now, not a mixture of them, so he could identify the one yelling his former alias. Allison broke from the mob of people (and there were more still, filling in from the open rooftop door, like a never-ending stream…) to run to him, looking like she might have just jumped into his arms, if not for Tom clutching her hoodie to stop her a few feet from him. Good move, considering he was still balancing precariously on the edge.
“Alleycat?” he whispered, a little blown. She looked so different (magenta looked amazing on the tips of her hair, and she totally pulled off that lip piercing), but he’d recognize those eyes anywhere. He’d been so relieved, when she first opened them after that dangerous overdose.
“We were so fucking worried, dude”, came from Tomcat just behind her, still gripping her hoodie (still keeping her safe; some things never change).
“I…”
“Where were you?” Maddie, not longer yellow but still wearing a cute cardigan, stepped up too.
“I’m… I’m not Robin”, he blurts out. They… knew it was him?  It… like, obviously there was a new Robin, Damian was (still, but probably not for much longer) smaller than him, but to immediately know that he was…
“Yeah, no shit. I’d know that long hair and noodle limbs of yours anywhere, kid. Known you too long to be fooled. And the new kid’s really trigger happy with that lon’nife of his... You’re still the Robin I prefer, and fuck if I understand the name passing you heroes do” Mr Harrinson spoke from the back of the crowd, one hand clutching his kid’s shoulder, the other arm around…
“Braided Hair Lady?”
Eloise smiles at him, soft and warm as ever, a little shy when his eyes go to the arm hugging her close and back to her. He recognizes some of her handmade scarfs around the necks of plenty of people on the roof. 
“I… wasn’t aware you all knew each other.”
A petite young teen steps forward, walking until they were shoulder-to-shoulder with the Strays.
“Most of us met through the app, and then introduced the others. There’s more, of course, but not everyone could meet here. Samantha’s baby was born just two months ago, so she chose to stay home, but we promised her pictures, so you’ll have to say cheese soon birdboy. Also, I found my name. I’m Cal.”
Allison’s smile broadened and she sneaked an arm around Cal’s waist.
“They are the new Straycat. Calico cat’s are the cutest shit ever, aren’t they?”
Well… Having someone as badass as Cal watching Tom and Alley’s back would sure make Tim feel a lot better about both kids being out in the streets. 
Were they still on the streets? He’d need to find out and fix that, soon.
Then it hit him. “What app?”
Auburn-hair smiled from his place, at the front of the crowd just behind the Cats.
“Felix over there,” he pointed over his shoulder at Mr Harrinson’s son, who smiled shyly at Tim, eyes shining in gratitude and admiration like they always did when Tim did his rounds and checked on his dad, “defended you in a GothamHeroes forum once. Some bratty douchebag was complaining about you landing over his car or something and this kid went for his fucking troath.”
“I was in that chat too,” spoke Tom, smiling a little too savagely for a kid that sweet. “He tore the idiot to shreds, speaking about how you saved his dad’s life and took it upon yourself to make sure he was still okay even weeks after you met. I mentioned how you saved Alley and Mrs Denvarow, we exchanged numbers… then we met Cal during one of our rounds handing out Mrs D’s scarfs and food. They were weary of everyone else, but trusted us because they heard you talk about the clothes and baked goods... And Cal’s friend Gina worked with Samantha on the streets and told them about her story...”
“Soon, it seemed like people personally saved by you were just… popping out of the snow like daisies” Blair laughed, and it was still the loudest, brightest noise. The night seemed a little clearer, the air a little fresher for it. “Felix made his own private chat and added us, and we added everyone else we knew… The word went around about it, and more and more people joined in…”
“It’s really a wonder how you had any time to fight crime, seeing how often you were apparently comforting jumpers on the roofs” Ailbert, still as gigantic and gentle as always, raised a hand from the middle of the group. He had a little girl on his shoulders, probably the baby niece he had taken in after his sister’s death. 
“Then the new kid appeared and Gotham went to hell on a basket, and no one saw you around any longer”, Elijah, wrists no more scarred than the last time he saw him, his arm tangled with Maddie’s, went on. “We were… well, we were a bit confused.”
“Speak for yourself, Cal jumped Red Hood one night, held him at knife point and demanded to know what the fuck happened to our Robin. We were like, zero chill.”
“Sorry, they did what?” Tim was definitely in the twilight zone now. 
“No thoughts, head empty, only murder”
...Tim needed to give Jason a quick call. Also sign Cal up for anger management. And probably, judging by the way both Alley and Tom were looking at them, get one of the adults to give them the talk.
Mrs Eloise smiled at him, and like always it served to calm his nerves. That woman was a different kind of magic than Alfred, but magic indeed. “Anyway, dear, what matters is that we were worried about you. And then this incredible young man, Aaron,” she waved at him, and he winked one of his green eyes in response, “suggested we kept in closer contact with one another, so anyone who spotted you could inform the others.”
Aaron shrugged, his auburn mane of hair bobbing with the movement. “It just seemed like it’d be easier to have an alarm set up, since messaging everyone would take so long… and then someone suggested making a map of Gotham so we could have clearer routes for the kids handing out Mrs Denvarow’s stuff… and someone wanted a shared blackboard to write theories on where the fuck you were with others… and a few demanded a space to share photos, possible sightings or old selfies with you… It kinda spiralled and I thought it’d be less of a chaotic mess if I made an app that could do all of that, instead of all of us using multiple apps for the different fixtures everyone asked for… Since this is Gotham, we also added some Rouge Alarm for whenever a criminal was set loose. It helped keep us safe, and if we knew when crime was happening, we could pay attention to which heroes answered the call…”
“And then, you fought that firefly guy the other day”, Felix said, still by his dad’s side, still looking as awed as ever when looking at tim. “I was in the crowd, and I recognized you within a minute.”
“I don’t really understand technology that well, and the group chat was such a mess that day” Ailbert lamented, but he was still smiling. They all were.
That hit Tim then, hard. 
They all looked so happy to see him. To have him back. They had been waiting for him to be back, banded together to make sure they’d all know when he did.
“You looked so sad the last time we saw you” Blair added softly, sadly. “And… when you saved Aaron, you told him about such sad things…”
Elijah winced “And I heard the Midnighter fell from Wayne Tower a few weeks ago, but then he was never seen around again, and your suit looks kinda similar, so that was probably really you… and, that fall…”
“We were very worried” repeated Eloise, but her eyes didn’t lose their warmth. “But you’re back now, and we can keep track of you and each other now, so it’s all good. It’s wonderful to have you back, love.”
This was an out of body experience.
Something must have shown on his face, because Cal snorted.
“We adore you, you dumbass. You are our hero.”
Alley smiled. “You are our Robin.”
Tim fell into her arms, and away from the roof’s edge. The rest of the crowd was upon them in seconds, all eager to pat his back or joke about the cowl hiding his hair from their hands.
He met eyes with Aaron, over Alley’s shoulder. He looked like the hope Tim had helped plant in his heart all those months ago had flowered, and the petals filled his heart.
(He was feeling poetic tonight, in the best ways)
“You should download the app too, so you always have someone to talk to. Look it up. It’s called BirdWatchers, because we’ll always look up and out for you. Because when we wanted to jump, you lended us your wings to fly instead.”
It was like this fucker wanted Tim to cry.
“Welcome home, Red Robin.”
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pandoraimperatrix · 3 years ago
Note
Can you lily for BatCat?!? PS you’re just so talented at writing!
This is a sequel of Time Unreal that @comicskbanime2 requested in march.
It falls after the 4x15 of Gotham,so Baby!Batcat what feels weird to say when this is smut lmao.
Lily - “Staying quiet was never your strong suit, wasn’t it?” “Well, you could do something about it.”
Enjoy!
---------------------------
Growing up on the streets Selina learnt by pain and hurt that the only thing that really matters is power. And the main two things that could give you some was violence or money. She didn’t enjoy violence very much. She was no lily livered coward, but she did not take pleasure on inflicting physical pain to others. And the way she avoided to be on the receiving end was being small, fast and smart, but those three things could fail her, and had many times. Money, however, she liked very much, but she didn’t have any, that’s why she took it from people that had too much.
Dealing with Bruce was different, the rules did not apply at all. For once, despite still having nothing of the things that should give her power over him, there was no doubts of whom from the both of them had the reins of their particular dynamic. And it was not the boy billionaire.
But Selina miscalculated. She made a mistake she never really expected she could ever make. Because it was so unlike her, it never occurred to her that she needed to look out for that particular kind of danger. She got comfortable, domesticated. And, by doing so, Selina led herself to believe that the things between them would never change.
Back then, she, sometimes, when lying on his couch, watching through half-lidded eyes his never-ending reading, pretending to be asleep, she wondered why. Why he didn’t mind her presence? God, why he even seemed to enjoy it? Worse, why was he so despaired for her good opinion? Why he even cared about her at all? And how could have her let herself forget that those questions didn’t have an answer? And if she didn’t know why or how she managed it in the first time, how could she keep her power over him?
Did she even had any, like, ever? Wasn’t their whole relationship just one of his experiments and when he tired of consorting with the poor, he’d forget her? But wasn’t exactly that what happened, wasn’t it? Granted, in the heat of her rage, when for the first time since they met, he rejected her, it hurt so much and so deeply that she told herself that’s what happened. That their whole relationship was a lie, that Bruce was just another selfish rich bastard who used her for amusement and now was done with her.
Of course, that was stupid and not true at all. Even if she couldn’t understand why Bruce liked her, she knew him well enough to know he was none of that. And that had been why, even after believing their story was over, her heart broke when she saw him playing that part, forcing himself to be something so far from his true self, something that he, himself, despised. And when he told her what was really going through his head the last time they fought at the hospital, the surprise, the relief, the need was so great that she couldn’t do it anymore. Selina realized that Bruce hadn’t been the only one pretending to be something he was not, and she kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, and when they had their first time, in the wrong place, wrong time and even more wrong circumstances, finally, she felt something was right in the world.
He put away the jewellery, and she waited as he came back, feeling awkward. Such unfamiliar feeling. She, who had wore shamelessness on her head like a crown all her life, felt embarrassed by being under Bruce Wayne’s gaze now. He didn’t come back to the Sirens after their last encounter. Then the whole affair with Ivy happened and when she heard he was one of her former friend’s victims, the whole affair was done with, and he was okay. Good. Yet… Some part of hers, the one that was still insisting on making the same mistake that costed her so dearly before, expected him to make the next move. And when he didn’t, when not even the dirt bag Brucie that haunted her bar failed to show, she was disappointed. Of course, her pride would never let her admit that to him. But even her pride had its limits, and after how Ivy tricked her into participating in the murder of Roland Charles, Selina felt the need of a friend. Someone who understood. Someone to whom other people’s lives mattered. She needed him.
He looked surprised to see her still there in his messed up kitchen when he came back, but other than a small smile and a special glint in his gaze, he didn’t comment on her lingering presence.
“Are you still hungry?” he asked.
“You have no food,” she answered, trying to shake the weird shyness she was feeling off. She was sitting on the counter now, her legs swinging. His eyes darkened, maybe he was remembering the last time he held her against a bar counter, maybe it was a trick of the light.
“I could make some.”
“I could eat.”
He took the apron from the hook and tried to tie around his waist, but his hand – now puffy and purple – hurt and he winced in pain.
Selina jumped off the counter and took the apron from his hands, helping him to tie it on his back.
“Are you really alright?” she whispered, taking forever to make the knot, she wanted to lean her forehead against his back, when had it become so broad? He used to be such a frail thing.
“Yes…” he sighed, knowing she didn’t mean his hand. “As much as I can be.”
“I don’t understand it,” her hands fell limp around her body.
“What?” he turned to look at her, but Selina was facing down, biting her lip to stop it from trembling.
“Why don’t you just take off to your castle in Italy and never come back to this stupid city?”
“Chalet in Switzerland, Selina,” he said in a mock-annoyed tone. “I’ve told you a hundred and fifty-seven times already!”
That got her to raise her eyes to him.
“Knowing you, I might believe you counted for real.”
Bruce took his good hand to her face, Selina’s eyes fluttered closed; his thumb caressed her cheekbone lovingly.
“Still… You really can’t think about a reason?” his voice was barely a whisper.
“Hm?” she made, leaning into him, one hand on his hip, the other on his chest, she wished he would shup up and kiss her already, she didn’t want to hear it, because she might believe him.
“Can’t you?” he urged her again, but now his hand had slid into her hair, and his lips were against her ear.
Selina shivered, but pushed him away gently.
“Look, Bruce…”
“No, no,” he pleaded, his voice betraying his despair, “don’t do that,” he reached for her hand, “not now, please.”
“What do you even want from me?” she asked, frustrated. “I just don’t get you. You’d think that fucking you would give me some clue, but somehow I know even less of what goes on in that huge head of yours, and I’m tired of trying to figure it out. Thank you for the help with the jewellery, I’m… I’m taking off now.”
She tried to pull her hand from his grasp, but Bruce used the leverage he had to pull her awkwardly closer, making their bodies smash into each other.
“I’m sorry!” he said letting go of her hand, but doing nothing to create space between them. “But just-“ he sucked air in. “Stay, please. I don’t get me either, most of the time, but after Ivy did to me I think I might be getting somewhere… I feel like myself again. But one thing never changed. Not even when I was so completely lost… What I want from you… Oh Selina, how can you possibly not know?”
She just stood there, staring at him, and for the longest moment, it seemed that nothing else would happen. Because she couldn’t move, her thoughts were running so fast that if she did, something could break. And she was taken back to the last time he showed himself so vulnerable to her, and what the lack of reserves blew out the walls she had painstakingly built around herself. It was dangerous, Selina knew, and her brain was trying the impossible by pushing the acquired notion of Bruce growing out from his attachment to her to the reality of the young man standing there, who was so obviously in love with her.
“I want you,” he said finally.
Selina rose to the tip of her toes, crashing her face against his so hard her nose stung. Her hands went straight to his hair, her body arching to get more of his warmth, as he wrapped his arms around her and licked the seam of her lips. Selina gasped letting him in, she moaned when she felt his tongue slide to the roof of her mouth, remembering how it felt against her clit last time.
“Bruce…” she breathed when he started spreading kisses way from her lips. Selina pushed him away another time, but now her objective was to peel that stupid turtleneck off, she needed to feel him.
He grunted when, of course, the offending garment trapped his maimed hand as they hastily worked it off.
“Your hand!” she cried, alarmed.
“It’s fine,” he roared back, trying to catch her lips again, but Selina, ducked, taking the harmed hand delicately between hers, examining the damage.
“You should put ice on it.”
He used his free hand to pull her chin up.
“I have something better to do now.”
She snorted.
“You are so corny.”
She saw his smirk get closer and closer, until their lips were together again. He was being weirdly sweet as he kissed her, going slowly, kissing her skin as he peeled her jacket off, as if he was apologising.
It was too late for apologies, as Selina didn’t want any anymore.
She pushed him against the counter and unzipped her hoodie, discarding the shimmering fabric on the floor. He reached for her, but Selina stepped back, staring directly into his eyes, almost daringly, she pulled her undershirt off, revealing no bra. Bruce swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing, he licked his lips in anticipation, but instead of claiming his mouth again, Selina hooked her arms around his neck and bit his chin, licking downwards and sucking the sensible skin of his throat hard. She leaned back to admire her work, his skin was so fair, it was so easy to mark. She wished it was easy like that, to brand him as hers, to remind him so he wouldn’t stray again.
Wondering about his silence, she rose her gaze to his eyes, they were pitch black, her throat dried, Bruce’s mouth fell upon hers again, but didn’t last. He used her stunned oxygen deprived stage to rotate her body by her hips, pulling her thick hair aside and kissing down the nape of her neck, giving her one mark too, while his hands were free do grab her chest.
Selina moaned when he licked between her shoulder blades and pushed her hips towards his, desperate for more. By doing so, Selina felt against her backside how affected he was too, and reached behind to do something about it, but Bruce grabbed her still gloved wrist and pinned it on the counter.
“Not yet,” he told her, ignoring her annoyed huffs and continued from where he was interrupted. Selina looked over her shoulder to see him, kissing lower and lower down her back, he bit the curve of her hip kneeling on the floor, she involuntarily arched against him, and Bruce, finding that the fabric of her trousers were a problem reached for the front button. Selina helped by unhooking her whip from her belt as Bruce kissed the new revealed skin, but when he parted her soft mounds to lick her middle through her damp underwear she cried out in pleasure and shock.
She threw daggers through her eyes when she heard him chuckling.
“This morning you tried to grab my attention by making loud mess. But as Alfred is back, you’ll have to be quiet if you don’t want us to be interrupted.”
She turned around, facing him.
“I didn’t try to get your attention,” she said in arrogant tone, “I’ve got it”
He smiled again, but instead of amusement at her expense there was a mix of fondness and arousal in his eyes.
“Yeah?”
Bruce tried to stand up, but Selina hooked her leg across shoulder.
“Yes,” she leaned down, their faces inches from each other, “I still have you wrapped around my little finger, Bruce Wayne.”
Bruce’s smile disappeared and Selina’s core contracted in anticipation, he cupped under her knee, pushing her leg open and sucking her inner thigh. With each inch of skin he won, she bit her lip harder, trying so hard to not give him the satisfaction of having her loud and clear praise of his talents. Selina’s eyes rolled shut when Bruce pulled her underwear with his thumb and slid his impossibly hot tongue across her slit.
She was pretty sure she had broken her own skin, but all her efforts were nullified when he started sucking her clit and Selina cried out loud, one of her hands grabbing his hair with despair and the other reaching behind for support distrusting the capacity of the only leg she still had on the floor to keep her standing.
“Fuuuuuck,” she moaned when he started lapping, Bruce didn’t stop, his thumb let go of the fabric of her thong to penetrate her, and the combined stimulation made her fall apart, her leg giving in, pleasure mixed with horror as her fingers slipped from the hold she had on the counter. But before she had a very undignified fall, Bruce guided her body down, lying Selina on the kitchen floor.
She was still startled and still having orgasmic spasms when he started kissing up her navel.
“Staying quiet was never your strong suit, wasn’t it?” he teased.
“Well,” she breathed hard, “you could do something about it. Come here.”
He did, and she held his face as they kissed, enjoying the weight of his body over hers, the contrast of his feverish skin and the cool floor tiles. They took a break, Bruce’s forehead falling against Selina’s, his hands wandering down to her chest as she caressed his back.
“Your hand,” she remembered.
“What?” his mouth had joined his hand in the exploration of her breasts.
“When I fell and you held me-“
“It’s fine,” he mumbled.
She studied his face, trying to judge if he was being honest or just way too horny, deciding she believed him, or didn’t care enough to stop, she looked down.
“You still have your pants.”
That made him follow her gaze. And then when he sought for her face Selina smiled devilishly. She pushed him away, making Bruce fall on his back, then she rose to a kneeling position, undoing his fly. Selina used her teeth to pull her glove off before inserting her now bare hand inside the waistband. Bruce grunted when he felt her fingers close around him. He watched transfixed as she pumped a few times, and then pulled her hair behind her ear leaning in. When her lips closed around the tip, he held his breath, seeing stars.
“Hey,” she called wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Bruce remained with his eyes closed shut. “B to earth,” he heard her giggle and opened one eye, “do you have a condom? Last time we didn’t and… Better not risk it.”
He breathed in trying to remember how to process language and speech again.
“My wallet.”
“K,” she bended over him fumbling with his jeans’ pockets until she found his wallet. But when she opened it, she was surprised by a picture of herself. It was old, she should be around fourteen when it was taken, she didn’t know the picture existed and wasn’t looking at the camera. She turned the picture around trying to find more information of where it came from, but glued on the other side was a portrait of Bruce’s parents smiling to each other. Her hand shook, and she turned the picture over again, facing herself, and blinked trying to sway the tears wetting her eyes.
“Selina? Did you find it?”
She didn’t answer, not trusting her voice.
Bruce sat up, his hand caressing her back.
“Oh,” he made when he found out what was distracting her, “this…”
Selina sat of her heels, Bruce’s hand followed the change of her posture sliding up her back until he found the curve of her neck, massaging the bottom of her scalp.
“How did you get this?” She asked.
“I took it…” he said studying her expression. “Alfred found my mom’s vintage camera and I was playing with it.”
She turned her face to him.
“I don’t remember this.”
“You weren’t looking, I’m sorry,” he was now caressing her face tenderly, “are you upset I took it without telling you?”
“No, it’s just…” she closed her eyes shut. Why did he have to be so… “Where’s that damn condom?”
“Selina, I don’t un-“
She let go an exasperated sigh and pushed his wallet to his bare chest, climbing on his body.
“Find it, or I’ll fuck you without it.”
He found the object without difficulty and handed it to her.
Selina used her teeth do open the foil package.
“Do you know how to-“
“I was a virgin last time, not stupid.”
He chuckled.
“What?” she asked, rolling the condom down, Bruce hissed with the contact.
“Nothing,” he answered with a tight voice, his hands were now on her waist, wishing she was closer. “I just missed you.”
She pulled him for a kiss at the same time she guided his penis inside. Her mouth fell open breaking the kiss for a moment, before he urged her to continue, pulling her bottom lip with his teeth. Bruce’s hand, kneaded Selina’s buttocks as she swayed her hips back and forth.
As they got momentum, Bruce started thrusting his hips up to meet hers, by then Selina was being so loud, he had to cover her mouth with his hand. She came again, becoming limp in his arms, then he laid her down, without breaking their union, and proceeded to seek his own release until he collapsed over her.
They remained there, locked into each other, Selina’s hand playing with his hair, his head on her chest, Bruce felt so much at peace that he might have fallen asleep before being brought violently back to reality by a very loud British exclamation of horror.
When Bruce entered his bedchamber that night, there was someone already under the covers.
“So, what did you say to Jeeves?” she asked, as if having her on his bed as something normal and not the first time ever. Earlier, they dressed in haste and Bruce ran after Alfred to stop him from leaving again, when he went back to clean the mess in the kitchen, Selina was gone.
“A lot…” Bruce said pulling his turtleneck off and folding it. “He was worried I lied to him about fixing my life, but I convinced him.”
“How?”
“I told him” and he made a pause looking straight into her eyes, “it was you.”
“Oh…” he didn’t hide his smile when he saw the redness on her cheeks, Selina rolled her eyes.
“Won’t Barbara and Tabitha worry about you?”
“Nah,” she shrugged, “they don’t care.”
“Hmm,” he made unsure, he didn’t understand or liked Selina’s association with the two criminals that filled the space he had left in Selina’s life, but that was something he would have to deal with. After finishing his preparations, he fell on the bed and pulled Selina against him, very aware of the pleased smiled on her face.
“So…” he said kissing down her neck, “are you my girlfriend now?”
--------------------
I hope you liked this one too, and if you do, please reblog so more people can find it too <3 Have a nice week!
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Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Batman - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Tamara Fox, Some OC for cuteness Additional Tags: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Sickfic, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Tim Drake is Not Red Robin, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Crying, so much crying, Love Confessions, Cheesy, God it's so cheesy, Cringe, So sweet so cheesy so angsty that you'll cringe, Tim Drake-centric, some Jason POV tho, A wild X-men appereance, I know they're not the same universe but I'm running out of character and running out of creativity, So yeah X-men characters and vaugly their mansion/orphanage too, Bruce Wayne Bashing, Some things that I don't put down bcs it'll be a spoiler, Smoking, Implied/Referenced Sex, POV from a cat????, The Clichést Cliché that ever Cliché, Cliche Summary:
They meet again on a rooftop after ten years. They're different now, and things are not the same. It's all too late. Chapter 1 sneakpeek
“Don’t jump.”
Sighing exasperatedly, Tim puts down his cigarette-clutching fingers and drags his eyes to the source of the voice. His gelled-back hair loses its hold and a strand of ear-length bangs falls to his vision.
Sadly, without seeing him and just from the voice, Tim knows exactly who this person is. One of the Bat franchise, and it just had to be the Red Hood variation, fucking great. Out of all time, it has to be tonight. The world is playing a joke on him.
Tim is sitting hunched on the rooftop’s edge, wishing he’d have some peace and quiet for once, and of course one of these pestering bats just has to bug him at the worst time. Yet, it’s actually pretty rare for Red Hood to patrol Gotham lately, and Tim curses up a storm in his mind. Out of all the days, it just has to be fucking tonight.
No, Tim is not having it.
“This man has too much to do tomorrow to jump.” Tim looks away, getting a light from his suit.
One hand lighting another one of his death stick, and the other unbuttoning his suit and loosens his tie. After a puff and two, Tim drags in and keeps the smoke in, letting his nerves uncoil. Seems like it doesn’t work that well when the big bad shadow of a vigilante doesn’t move from the corner of his eyes.
“I’m not jumping, go away, I can’t deal with you tonight,” Tim says as he sighs the smoke away to the red polluted sky, thinking the man must be deaf or just not convinced. Maybe the latter, the bats are famous for their tact after all. People say they’re purely human. Seeing Red hood’s physique, maybe this one becomes meta-human at some point.
Tim looks the other way so the vigilante is completely out of his vision, to make a point that he’s not having this conversation. He looks to the city, engulfed by the red sky. It’s bright since this building is at the heart of the city, where the higher caste of Gothamites live and prosper. You can see the border around the bright side of the city where the lights stop dead and darkness begins. The poor side of the city. The gap is ghastly, it’s what makes Gotham what it is.
Tim is not surprised but highly disappointed when he hears shuffling instead, and when he looks at where the tall brick wall of a man, he already sits down next to him. Red Hood keeps a respectable distance though, at least he has that much of a tact.
Red Hood hooks his fingers inside his helmet, does some finger shimmy, and the red shiny mask helmet is off. His face is still covered by a domino mask, his hair looks damp, and his gloved hands rake his jet black hair back. Curls bounce to his forehead, sighing a fog, the only indication that the weather is reaching the end of the year. In turn, Tim felt his cleanly shaved nape chilled.
From inside the leather jacket, the vigilante digs to look for something, and that’s when Tim realized he’s been looking at the cuts on Red Hood’s exposed forearms from the folded sleeves. Very thick and muscled forearms. This guy either lifts all day or a meta-human, not that Tim cares anymore.
“Got a light?” Red says, plush lips smirking.
Tim sighs, guess he has company today. He digs into his suit and throws him his lighter. The masked man inspects it and Tim rolls his eyes. The lighter is a metal one that you flip, and on it engraved ‘From my heart with love, that this one lasts longer, Tam.’
“A sweetheart of yours?” Says the man, the second sentence he speaks, and Tim doesn’t recognize the voice. Deep, gravely, the typical voice of someone that smokes.
Red Hood extends his hand to give back the lighter to Tim instead of throwing it, must’ve thought it’s special.
“Kind of,” Tim says, receiving the lighter.
Red Hood drags in, keeps the smoke in, “Why kind of?” and sighs.
“Never established the relationship.”
“Commitment issues?”
Tim quirks an eyebrow at the man, sitting just as hunched as him. There’s a pillar beside Tim, and he lays his back there, thinking whether or not he should engage in this conversation. Eh, why not right? It’s not like it’s confidential information, and Tim is just so tired of caring about social politics.
“I was too late,” Tim says. It’s not as painful to say now, but lately, Tim has been numb. He’s been numb for years. Tim’s gay, or so he thought. When he began to really love her, she’s gone from him.
“Girl got another guy?” Red Hood teases.
“Girl got dead,” Tim deadpans. The smile dropped from the vigilante’s mouth, and if only he can see his eyes, panic would look funny on the all-powerful Bat. But, no, Tim can see his tell by the tapping hands.
“Ah fuck, sorry.”
Tim chuckles at the spectacle of an awkward vigilante. Maybe this night won’t be so bad after all.
“Relax, I’m not too sad about it now, it was years ago.”
It’s hard to predict Red’s expression with that domino mask that takes his cheekbones and half his forehead, but Tim’s pretty sure the twist on that mouth means his opinion of Tim isn’t good. Well, not that Tim cares.
“How did she die?”
“Wrong place, wrong time,” Tim put the filter on his lips and drags in as deep as he can. Too deep, and Tim coughs hard, once and twice that his vision blurs. Her face comes to vision, the morbidity of her expression tips Tim’s nerves off balance. Tim quickly takes another deep drag, “She was in the Joker’s way.”
At the name, Red Hood snaps his face at Tim. Slowly, languidly, Tim looks back. The vigilante clenched jaw and balled fists look like he’s about to kill somebody. Tim knows that a few years ago Red Hood kidnapped Joker, didn’t kill him, and just vanished before popping up again to have a vendetta against Batman. What a load of drama those bunch.
This also means that Tim knows exactly who this person is. Suddenly the voice registers, the familiar jaw, the soft fucking tone.
He blames it on the nicotine that his heart is calmer than he’d like, his mind still not on overdrive, still plagued with Tam’s face as she died in front of him. He’d breathe smoke instead of oxygen if he could. God he wished he’d breathe smoke from now on. Why does it have to be today? One grace from the universe is that Tim -for some reason- feels amused instead of dread.
“You look like you’re about to kill somebody, Red,” Tim says, can’t help the ease and sass in his voice. Tim lays back hunched, crosses his legs. “I thought you let go of your vendetta against the Joker.”
“Where do you hear that bullshit?” Redhood snaps and Tim can’t help but let go another chuckle.
“People talk, words get around,” Tim says.
“Then they’re far off the truth,” Red hisses before dragging in his cig.
“Yet the Joker still roams.”
“Ain’t my call.”
“Is it the big bat daddy calls?”
Red Hood splutters at the name and Tim smirks evilly at the reaction. “Ew, don’t call him that!”
“I can call that higher-than-thou furry hero wannabe anything I want,” Tim spits bitterly, looking out to the city. Sometimes when he’s really lucky, he’ll catch one of the bats twirling in the sky, and now one of ‘em is sitting beside him, but sadly it’s not the most shocking knowledge he has today. “One of these days it’s going to be my turn.”
“What?”
“Dying in the collision of mad men’s evil master plan you refuse to get rid of.”
“Ck, I don’t like what you’re insinuating.”
“Sorry then, I don’t mean to insinuate anything. This is me telling you loud and clear that you’re all cowards for not killing these maniacs that kill us like ants when you have the power to stop them.” Tim’s voice is even and chill, it did not raise a tone, but it reduces the bulk of a man beside him to still. “Some of us rooted for you when you caught the Joker, and your reputation gives us high hopes that it’ll be the last of him. Then he showed up again.” Tim feels the lighter in his pocket burn, “Then Tam died.”
Tim pumps his lung full of smokes, keeping it in there so that the clawing gloom will die before it takes roots.
“I almost did kill him, Batman stopped me,” the gravel voice says lowly.
Tim feels himself stiffens, now that’s something he doesn’t know. His eyes scan the hunched vigilante, trying to find any sign of a lie, there’s none.
“Shit,” Tim curses, sighing up smoke and quickly takes a deep drag in. “Fuck Batman.”
For the first time, Tim hears Red chuckle, “Yeah, fuck him.”
“Still your family though, right?” Tim says, earning what he thinks is a glare, who would fucking know with that mask. “Why else would you stay in his line?”
Red Hood looks away, not answering.
“Guess I understand. Proving something to someone.”
Red scoffs, “Would you?”
“You know who I am.”
“Yeah, not your story.”
Tim scoffs at the obvious lie, “Look it up. I have better things to do than telling you my backstory that’s a google search away.”
Tim Drake. Son of the CEOs of Drake Industries. Running smoothly since ever he becomes the COO. Yada yada, young and successful, yada yada, has the reputation to chew out the reporters and a resting bitch face, all that shit. Tim doesn’t have the best bedside manners, but when it comes to business, Tim gets things done, and his business partners know to swallow their pride for a potential too stupid to missed just because Tim has fangs.
“I dunno, you’re pretty mysterious in the eye of the media,” Red says.
“Because they’re nosy pricks and not worth my time when they’re asking me about rumors of my flings.”
“They’re not true?”
“What the fuck are you? Does TMZ sent you?”
“Good point, never mind.”
They let the quiet settle in, and Tim isn’t too bothered by the company so much. The red amber eats to his filter. Tim puts out the light and puts the bud back inside the pack while he gets another one. He looks down at his light, which reminded him of Tam. Damn, she was such a good assistant, she’s also his best friend but a damn better assistant. Tim doesn’t let himself think about it.
He lights another, and puffs.
“Shouldn’t you be patroling?” Tim says before he can stop himself.
“Nah, not here to patrol, just some errands.”
“Don’t mind me. I’m not jumping.”
“No, I know that,” Red says, tone softer that Tim narrows his eyes at him.
“Lonely?” Tim teases, putting the filter in his lips while locking eyes to the pair of white lenses.
Red shrugs, “Just wanna kill time with someone that doesn’t wear one of these,” he says, tapping to his domino mask.
Tim hums imagining himself with his family, “Yeah, me too, I’d take a vigilante franchise over family dinner anytime.”
“Aww,” Red surprisingly coos, making Tim flustered.
“Don’t get it twisted, my family sets a pretty low bar for good company.”
“I can say the same, Timmy.”
Tim flinches, “I didn’t say you can call me Timmy.”
“What about friends then?” Red follows up, ignoring him.
“Joker killed my only best friend. Oh god, stop making that face, everyone I know got someone they know killed by the Joker, or Bane, or.... shit just those freaks.”
“Doesn’t make me feel better.”
“I don’t care what you feel.”
“I’m wounded,” Red says in that joking ‘boo-hoo’ voice but it was the last thing to snap Tim’s patience completely. He hates this casual conversation as if nothing happened.
“I’m not jumping, and I know you’re not here just to talk to some random civilian. You know who I am, so say what you wanna say and go,” Tim inhales deeply after the low-toned rant, only to be met with another silence.
They stay quiet for a few whiles again. Smoking the tension away. After Tim’s cig burns halfway, his nerves calmed down. Then he realizes that Red is looking at him. Staring.
“What?” Tim says, sighing smoke.
“Would you kill Joker if you could?”
“In a heartbeat.”
“Killing someone isn’t as easy as it sounds, especially if you did it before.”
“You underestimate my anger then.”
Red Hood goes still for what Tim is insinuating. His phone vibrates in his pocket. Tim gets it and his new assistant reminds him of a flight in an hour and he needs to be ready in half. Tim puts out his cig and pockets it.
As he stands up, he looks down at Red Hood, really looks at him. It reminded Tim of the time has passed. It’s been so long.
“Nothing to say?” Tim asks, he has an underlying tone of ‘last chance.’
“Thanks for the light.”
Tim clenches his jaw and breaths slowly. What did he expect? “You caught me at a bad time but it’s good to meet you again, Jason.”
When Tim walks away, his elbow is grabbed and he’s spun to face Jason in all his bulk. Looming over him with his height.
“You know who I am?” Red says with a threat in his voice that makes Tim wants to laugh.
“Are you really that surprised? Or did you forget me when you fucking died?” Tim smiles bitterly.
Moments passed, eyes on each other, chest to chest. The last time he sees Jason, Tim was staring at these white lenses too, and Jason was still as tall as him. At this close, Tim sees tiny tears that heal pale than the rest of his tan skin, bulked up body looming over him that used to be similar to his. For anyone, Tim had two best friends, Robin and Jason Wayne-Todd, he had known the two are the same. Seems like Jason doesn’t.
Doesn’t matter now. Everything said and done. Too late.
“Say your goodbyes now,” Tim says, because why else would his childhood friend pops back again after a decade of not saying anything after he returned to life. Tim doesn’t realize it’ll hurt this bad though. Missing Tam doesn’t hurt this bad.
Perhaps it was because the scar never healed right, but he still thinks of Jason like a big chunk of him that’s been torn away forcefully, even now.
“I’m sorry,” Jason finally says, low and guilty, as he should be, but it irks Tim to no end.
“I lost you, and when you’re back you didn’t tell me,” Tim says, his voice cracks and he curses it to hell. Red Hood’s been around for years, and Jason never came to Tim to say he’s alive.  “If you have nothing else to say, let go of me.”
“I didn’t know that you knew.”
“What?”
“I didn’t know you know I was Robin... Did you know... everyone?”
Tim rolls his eyes, “Yes.” Gloved hands still on his elbow, and white lenses not letting him go. The non-challant face he wears slips off as if oil just slicked between the mask and his skin. His heart picks up a beat. There are layers between their skin, Jason’s thick gloves and Tim’s three-piece suit, but it feels warmer. Burning.
“Damn,” Jason curses under his breath.
It’s just a little thing, but Jason’s silence following that is a nother prick to Tim’s skin.
“Is that all?” Tim dismissed, pulling his arm away, but Jason only holds tighter.
“I didn’t know, okay?” Jason pushes, “And you’re a civilian, you’re not supposed to know Jason Todd is back to the land of the living.”
“A civilian,” Tim mutters under his breath. That’s all he is to Jason? All this time. His chest hurts, Tim knows this is because of Jason’s words instead of anything else. “Get away from me.”
“I’ll see you again,” Jason says before letting go.
Before Tim can say don’t bother, the man puts on his red helmet and grapples away. For a moment Tim can see the shadow of red yellow green flying away.
43 notes · View notes
speechlessxx · 4 years ago
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invisible string (Steve Rogers x Reader)
Summary:  there was always been a single thread of gold tying you to Steve Rogers.
This was also a request from an anon! But I planned to write an imagine ever since folklore came out haha...
Based on Taylor Swift - invisible string (highly recommend you to listen bc this is my favorite song off of folklore!)
Warnings: a lot of Taylor Swift references, language!, wordy (oops)
Word Count: ~3k
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Love was quite a challenge – a never-ending struggle. You found it was more rejection than acceptance – more heartbreak and angst than romance and fluff. The romantic comedies you loved gave you so much hope and high expectations, leading you to believe you’d meet the love of your life whilst reading in the park or at an art museum where you’d be admiring paintings while he admired you.
It was all wrong.
Love wasn’t straight and narrow – black and white or even red. It was complex – full of twists and turns. You didn’t know this, but you were meant to get tangled up in the strings of love… Instead, you sought to straighten it out – to unravel the ball of yarn that love felt like.
You never stopped believing in true love despite the heartaches and the horrible men you’ve encountered. You often joked that you met the wrong ones at – what felt like – the right times.
But that’s the wondrous thing about timing – about fate, even…
Because the right one was always there … you weren’t ready for him just yet.
New to the city, your friends often set you up on numerous blind dates. They were their boyfriends’ friends, or coworkers, or their own friends. Most of the time, you had nothing in common with these men, but they’d tell you, “you gotta kiss a couple frogs to find your prince.” When you’d bring up your fantasizes of finding true love yourself, they’d snark and tell you, “true love’s a thing of the past.” You didn’t like to believe that, but maybe they were right…
Perhaps with the modern age of dating – Tinder and online sugar daddies and what not – that was true. Many blind dates ended with a confession – that they just wanted to hookup. You often found yourself a victim of mind games – pathetically drinking alone in the late nights wondering if he’d call (and when he did, it was always at his convenience and would chastise you if you weren’t available or in the mood).
However, one man seemingly put all your past relationships to shame. He was everything you ever wanted – tall, dark, handsome. Although it wasn’t a criterion for you, he had a great job and a promising career – one he was immensely proud of and often boasted about. That was one con about James – that and the aloofness, narcissism, and all too flirty personality though you always found yourself overlooking all of that.
Many of your friends didn’t quite approve. They found him a bit too arrogant and often called him out for taking advantage of your too kind and naïve heart. But you often found yourself brushing them off. You thought that perhaps they didn’t quite approve because they didn’t choose him for you.
Unlike the other men, you met him spontaneously at a Broadway show. You were gifted tickets for your birthday, and he happened to be sitting right next to your seat. He introduced himself to you, giddy with excitement – apparently, this was his favorite show. You thought his shameless excitement for Broadway was endearing and you hit it off instantly. It felt like destiny and months later, you were falling in love with James (ignoring all the red flags).
-=+=-
You smiled as you entered the bar. James, whom – as he says – has exquisite taste, picked out a bar in Brooklyn. It was quite unusual, really. He was an Upper East Side trust fund baby – although he claims that his career is self-made – and wasn’t too fond of the outer boroughs. But you welcomed the change in scenery. You found the five-star restaurants too flashy with food portions that were much too small for the huge price tags.
You quickly found him in the crowded bar and rushed over to give him a hug. He didn’t welcome you with an equally tight embrace. In fact, you didn’t feel his arms go around you at all.
“You okay?” You asked him as you settled into the seat next to him.
“Look, we gotta talk,” his voice was hushed. James scratched his head with his eyes glancing around. He looked tense – uncomfortable. His hands were shoved into his coat’s pockets, clutching onto his wallet as if he were afraid someone would just snatch it from him.
“Okay…” You nodded. You felt your heart begin to race. His tone, his composure – hell, he himself – radiated an all too familiar feeling. You felt the breakup speech coming before he even said the words.
“I think we gotta breakup,” he muttered. He refused to look at you. His eyes staring at your feet. You straightened up in your seat, rolling your shoulders back and picking at your dress’s skirt nervously.
“Is… is there something I did?” You asked, your voice breaking at the end. Although you felt the breakup happening, it still caught you off guard. Three months into dating, you were already falling so hard for him. Everything felt perfect up until now.
“No,” James shook his head. His eyes finally met yours, but it was your turn to look away. “I just think we’re not meant for each other.”
“Okay,” you nodded. A tear rolled down your cheek, but you quickly wiped it away with the back of your hand.
“Yeah… Um… I gotta go – “
“Is there someone else?” You don’t know why you asked. You weren’t sure if you even wanted the answer. James coughed, awkwardly. You caught him nod in the corner of your eye. You exhaled a shaky breath before feeling your heart harden. “Fine. Have a good life.” He said your name and leaned over to hug you, but you shrugged him off. “Go fuck, yourself,” you spat. The words surprised you. You were never so vulgar, but you had enough.
Without another word, James retreated from the bar – disappearing out the door and out of your life. As soon as the door shut, the dam broke, and quickly came the tears.
Unbeknownst to you, there was an especially trained ear listening in to the short yet very heartbreaking conversation. Steve wasn’t much of an eavesdropping, but he couldn’t help if his enhanced hearing – thanks to the serum – picked up on distress. And you were chock full of it.
Steve stared on as you tried to compose yourself to no avail. You were shaking with anger, with sorrow, with heartbreak. His own heart broke for you.
What an asshole, Steve thought to himself.
Steve noticed James the moment the rich prick walked into the bar. He hated how the man snapped his fingers at the waitress and the bartender and how he talked down to those who were just doing their job. He remembered the man get on the phone, talking to – what sounded like – a woman, telling her that he was “handling it”. Steve didn’t need to have Bruce’s intelligence to know that James was a two-timing pig and he thought about the poor woman whom he was “handling”.
Then, you walked into the bar. A teal colored sundress. The color bringing him back to simpler times when he was sixteen and Bucky had hooked him up with a job at a yogurt place. He noticed how you gleamed in the dark room. He thought you were like daylight and cursed James even more – he didn’t deserve his own personal sun.
“Hey,” Steve called to the waitress. The young woman smiled at him, recognizing him as the regular who drank so much yet never stumbled out drunk. “Do me a favor and get that young lady a glass of your finest. On me.” He pointed over to you – the pretty girl in the teal sundress with tears rolling down her cheeks.
The waitress nodded. “Anything in particular you want me to tell her?”
Steve shook his head. “Just tell her that a man like that asshole ain’t worth her time nor her tears.”
“Gotcha,” the waitress winked before walking off.
Steve, knowing how a simple glass of alcohol can make or break a young woman’s evening, stayed to ensure that the drink was brought to you safely. His eyes were trained on the glass – from the moment the drink was poured up until the moment it was brought over to you.
“I … I didn’t order this,” you told the waitress.
“Yeah,” she smiled and nodded over to Steve though you didn’t follow her eyes, “that man did. Told me to tell you that that asshole you were with ain’t worth your time nor your tears and I agree.”
You gave her a little chuckle and a gracious nod as she walked away. You turned your head, craning over the many patrons of the bar to catch a glimpse of the man… but all you got was the back of his head as he walked out of the bar.
Tall. Blonde. Broad.
Those were the only thing you knew about this mystery man.
-=+=-
Months after James and several failed attempts to rebound, you decided to give up on your quest for love. Opting to love yourself, instead. Your friends supported the notion.  
“I’m tired of trying to find love. Let love find me,” you rose a glass up on the night before your trip and your friends cheered in support.
The trip was two weeks well spent. A reprieve from the suffocating city of millions. Your friends found your sudden glowing, tanned skin, and bright smile suspicious. Chalking this “glow up” to you finding a new man and didn’t quite believe when you attributed it to self-love rather than romantic love.
But nevertheless, they were simply excited to have you back in the city. They wanted to celebrate your return – and you knew the perfect bar to do so.
“You’re staring,” Sam muttered over to Steve as Steve tore his eyes away from the familiar woman.
“’m not,” Steve chuckled. “You gonna ice that eye?” He pointed over to the dark bruise beneath Sam’s right eye. The pair had just returned from a successful mission and Sam, who clearly took a couple hits, wanted to go out and be “normal” – Steve knew the perfect place.
The waitress laughed as she brought over a Ziplock bag filled with ice wrapped with a paper towel. “Thought he might need this.” She joked. Sam thanked her as he took the bag and pressed it onto his eye. “Your girl’s here,” she teased Steve.
“Not my girl,” Steve laughed, glancing over his shoulder at you again.
She hummed teasingly. “Heard she just came back from a trip.”
“Wait, what do you mean his girl?” Sam asked.
The waitress shrugged. “She was here a few months ago and got broken up with. Stevie boy, here, bought her a drink but left right after. She came back a lot, saying she’d always see her asshole ex in the city and how he’d never come to Brooklyn, so she kinda made this place her safe place.” She laughed. “Funny thing is… She comes, Stevie’s not here. Stevie comes, she’s gone.”
“And tonight, they’re both here? Hm…” Sam narrowed his good eye at Steve. “I think that’s fate, pal.” Steve shook his head. “Oh, c’mon… I’ll even introduce ya.”
“Sam. No.”
The man caught your eye – not because he was handsome (you didn’t even see his face) but because the back of his head was just familiar. It looked similar to the mystery man that bought you a drink all those months ago. Tall. Blonde. Broad. You couldn’t help but stare.
“Why are you staring at that guy’s head?” One of your friends nudged you, shaking you from your thoughts. “You know him?”
“Uh… No.” You shook your head, laughing a little. “He just looks familiar, ‘s all.”
“Okay…” She nodded before taking a swig of her drink. “I think you should go talk to him.”
You scoffed. “Why?”
“Because he seems to have your attention.” She giggled.
“Right…” you laughed, awkwardly. “Well… I’m hitting the ladies.”
You got up from your seat. As you were making your way across the bar, your phone began to buzz. Thinking it was strange, considering everyone you spoke to daily was in that bar, you pulled your phone out to investigate. You rolled your eyes when you saw James’s name on the caller ID. You scoffed and sent him straight to voicemail.
Distracted with your phone, you didn’t notice the wall of a man pushing himself out of his seat to stand. You ran straight into him, dropping your phone in the process.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Steve apologized.
“It’s my fault, really,” you laughed. You awkwardly combed through your hair with your fingers when you noticed it was the man you were staring at earlier.
“I doubt it. I’m pretty clumsy sometimes,” he chuckled. (Sam scoffed… like you’re not Captain America throwing that shield around with expert precision? Right…)
“You’d be surprised at my skill. If there’s an Olympics for clumsiness, I’d be the Michael Phelps.” You joked. You pushed down your shyness and offered him your hand, introducing yourself to the incredibly handsome man (thank you slight buzz).
Steve couldn’t find his words, suddenly becoming shy. It felt as if he were a skinny, stupid, sixteen-year-old again. “uh…”
“Steve Rogers.” The man Steve was sitting next to cut in. You frowned curiously at him seeing as he was holding a makeshift icepack to his face. “His name’s Steve Rogers.”
“Wait… like…” You found the name familiar as if you read it in a textbook or a museum. “Like Captain America?” You brought your voice down low, not wanting to draw attention to the man.
He smiled bashfully as he shook your hand. “Yeah…”
“It’s nice to meet you.” You smiled. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to salute, but your slowly sobering mind decided against it.
Just as he expected… to be smiled at by you was like being graced by daylight.
“You mean finally,” the waitress, the one who seemed to always work whenever you were there, butt in. “He’s the man who bought you the drink, by the way.” She told you just before walking off with a tray of drinks.
“Oh… that was you?”
Steve’s ears heated up and he felt himself flush, looking away. “Yeah… I just thought it might cheer you up a little… that guy was an ass.”
“Agreed.” You chuckled. “Thank you, Steve… and it’s nice to finally meet you, I guess.”
“Right back at you.” He nodded. He watched you turn and retreat to your table with your friends. He tried not to listen in on your conversation, distracting himself with Sam as your friends buzzed in excitement, badgering you with questions.
“Hey…” the waitress said, bending down and grabbing a phone off the hardwood floor. “You drop this, Stevie?” Steve checked his pockets and sure enough, his phone was there. “Sammy?” Sam did the same and shook his head. The waitress cocked her head to the side as she pressed the power button. The phone lit up and a mischievous smirk formed on her face as she turned the screen to show a photo of you and your friends. “I wonder who this belongs to?”
“Should probably give it back to her,” Steve suggested.
“Yeah, you should.” Sam encouraged, bumping Steve’s shoulder with his. “While you’re at it, get her number, you idiot! Girl was giving you ‘em eyes.”
“What eyes?” Steve frowned, obviously confused. Sam groaned, snatching the phone, and thrusting it into Steve’s hands.
“Go!” He said, pushing Steve away in your direction.
“Oh, my god, dreamy man is coming over!” Your friends muttered in excitement as you heard the faint footsteps near.
You heard Steve say your name and you turned around with a smile. “Hello again, Steve.”
“Hi…” he scratched his head awkwardly. “You lose your phone?”
“Oh shit…” you muttered, suddenly noticing your empty pockets. “Thank you so much!” You said as he handed it to you.
“Yeah, it’s no problem.” Steve nodded before turning.
“Wait!” You called out. He stopped and turned to give you another shy smile. “How about I buy you a drink as a thank you?” He didn’t have the heart to tell you that alcohol had no affect on him, but he also didn’t like the idea of a lady spending her own money on him.
“No, it’s alright.” Steve shook his head. “Mom raised me to never let a woman spend money on me.”
You laughed. “No, please… call it a payback.”
“I don’t know …” He chuckled. He saw how your smile faltered, just a bit. You took his reluctance as rejection and he noticed you slowly retreat into yourself. “Not that I’m not interested in you,” he cringed at his words. “That sounds horrible, but umm… How about I buy you a drink, instead? Helps with my moral code.” He cringed at his joke. “Is it too forward if I say I just wanna get to know you?”
“Not at all.” You shook your head; your smile returning.
“You look like Captain America,” your friend, boldly stated.
Steve nodded. “I get that a lot.” He glanced over to you and winked.
“We’ll leave you guys to it, then…” One of your other friends coughed. “Let’s go, girls?” She made a telephone gesture with her hands and mouthed the words call me before pulling your friends away, leaving you and Steve alone.
Leaving you to entangle yourself in the invisible string that tied you and Steve Rogers together.
320 notes · View notes
monster-bcrn · 4 years ago
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SPOOKY’S 100 FOLLOWER SHOUTOUT!
Okay for real this is the fastest growing blog I’ve ever had hehehe. Never expected Grundy to get this popular this quickly!
Freaking love this zombaby and I’m so glad y’all love him too! As promised, gonna shout out some fantabulous bloggos that helped get Grundy to where he is today. XD
@akasupergirl/ @azombieme (I FREAKING ADORE GRUNDY AND KARA AND LIV. I swear Grundy’s loyal to Kara like he was to Shayera and Jade and Liv is totally his baby sister and is gonna protect her from.....everything. :P
Even pigeons, because they’re legion.)
@thecatgoddessbast (A blast from the past! Glad to see you again after I rampaged and caused chaos as a certain deranged pincushion of a mushroom way back in the time before present. XD
Now I get to do that as a zombie. :D Win/win!)
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@starcityvigilante (OLLIE. FFFFFF-okay for real I’m HYPED to plot wacky ideas with you. Grundy has a MASSIVE grudge against Green Arrow and I’m like......*push these two together* you both get along right now.)
@folcire (We literally just started talking and I’m loving your Ivy already! Can’t wait to see how Grundy grows to see her the more he talks to her because they’re both sassy plant people that way. XD)
@themartlans (FFFFFF-J’ONN. Everyone’s favorite green uncle :D I freaking adore him and I HATE how the most he ever interacted with Grundy was him being tossed into the bay. >_<
They really need to talk more, and MAN! That Injustice verse of yours is SICK. Definitely hyped for making Grundy into an insurgent and a good zombie instead of Supes’ lapdog.
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( Look at this face....LOOK AT IT.)
@blackwingsbluedings (One of the best Dick Grayson’s out there and definitely loving seeing Grundy be less smash and more “......hug?” They both need hugs I swear.)
@marvelousdamsels (We haven’t talked much but I adore your muses and I just hope Grundy doesn’t come off as too weird or clingy.......wait.......that’s......literally Grundy.....
:D)
@theirfirstexperiment (GRUNDY ON A RAMPAGE YOOOOOO! Better run fast. XD)
@amazonexile/ @gothamprens/ @captainstevertrevor ( Freaking love your muses and I love seeing Diana and Bruce actually WANT to help Grundy. It’s too easy just beating on Grundy and I love seeing them actually bother to try to get to the gentler side of the Hulk’s crazy cousin. XD)
@justiceebound / @nighttfight ( *slams fist on the table* YOU ARE AWESOME! Your Shayera is awesome, your Bruce is a national treasure and I can’t wait to throw Grundy at Supes and Diana, because these guys need a big reconciliation thing after all the chaos from literal years of slugging it out.
And I LOVE it. >:D)
@ofamazonia 
@theamazondiana   (Both of you are AWESOME Wonder Women and MAN I love plotting ideas. I’m tired of seeing Diana being turned into too much of a warrior while negating her role as a peace-maker and y’all NAIL her kindness and wisdom and need to give everyone a chance. Freaking LOVE IT!)
@raininginkyxto (LOL I always love imagining Grundy in Marvel and now poor Weasel is kind of stuck with him. XD Man, if the Hulks meet Grundy then that poor bar is going to really get smashed.....)
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@notatomo (GIANT. Man I loved that movie as a kid and I LOVE the subsequent giant robot and tiny kid works inspired from it (example being the CRIMINALLY under-appreciated Sentinel series by UDON.) Can’t wait to see what happens when Grundy talks more to someone bigger than him. XD)
@liminalstctic (GRUNDY HEARTS TINY GIRL. XD Yeah he’s trying his hardest to help her. ;A;)
@dolceclavier
@gobsnacc
@adrenalinesaint
@ninelivesruined
@yellowskinnedwackyman  (CREEPER! I’ll forever ADORE these two butts because they’re team Tree Lobsters.)
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@collidingxworlds/ @thecursedhellblazer (I. Love. Your. Constantine. I swear I have so much fun writing Grundy trying to get drunk (and failing) and learning to cuss up a storm while still being a mad lad ready to throw down with mega-zombies to protect his tiny friend.
DC, make this friendship canon or so help me Grodd...)
@chaosmultiverse (I love your Klarion so much! He’s so much fun! XD And Teekl for the epic win!)
@raichoose (Herbert West and Solomon Grundy? THAT aIN’T GOOD! D:>)
@gctjinxd (Freaking LOVE your Jinx! LOL how she manipulates Freeze and how Grundy isn’t even REMOTELY phased by her powers. Like he is TOUGH. Even bad luck won’t stop him.)
@killcrcroc (BIG BAD KILLER CROC! I love your Waylon and I adore how he has a collection of watches and that awesome suit. XD Croc definitely deserves more love since he’s much smarter than he looks, and tough enough to even get Grundy to back down in a serious fight.)
@babydxhl (Baby Doll is criminally underappreciated and I love how she’s the opposite to Grundy. She looks child-like but is very crafty, mature and knows how to get what she wants, while Grundy is physically strong and big enough to bully his way into anything he wants, but is very simple and child-like and would rather watch the birds. XD)
@theednygma (An awesome Ed Nygma and I love how Grundy is so unsure of everything yet still goes along for the ride as a support. XD)
@sleightlyoffhand (BUNNY MAN! Okay the idea of Josiah monching on carrots in Grundy’s pocket makes me smile so much. XD)
@thanagrian (BIRD-NOSE! Honestly every time I think of Grundy and Shayera I get the feels big time. These two definitely deserved more than just two episides to give them a unique friendship.
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(I love that STAR Labs mission so much in Injustice. XD)
@the-arkham-librarian ( I love Eliza so much! She’s crafty, stubborn, sweet and kind and just cares about everyone so much when few don’t. Grundy grew so attached to her I swear she’s like his little sister at this point. XD And he’s totes the best uncle along with Eddie.)
@fatherdamned ( I LOVE YOUR RIDDLER OMG! He’s so snarky but man he is SO DAMN FUN to write with! Grundy is there for his green friend, no matter what!)
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@fartemis-crockpot
( I freaking LOVE Artemis and Grundy, especially in the Injustice Society stuff. Yeah Grundy’s been a butt before but he genuinely likes and cares about her and the rest of the team and I’m like....
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Look at these bunch of a-holes. Yeah they’re a family and even if they’re bad.....they’ve got each other. And that’s what counts. C:)
@powerhours/ @lastofmars (Green dad? Green dad. I love your J’onn so much and I’m like *throws Grundy at green dad* Here give this disaster some love. XD)
@gothamdad (YET ANOTHER AWESOME BATMAN. :D)
@redsleuthed (TIM! I love Tim and I swear these two should talk more because Grundy doesn’t WANT to fight and I think just letting someone hear him out would help him immensely.
Plus that stuff with Freeze? Poetic cinema.)
@themusespace
@12thlevel​ (On this blog we stan socially awkward green boi with angery grandpa genius mastermind. XD)
@pluckyingenue
@seekthedarknesswithin (SHADE! I love Shade in Justice League where he constantly throws Shade at everyone so you can imagine how excited I was to see Shade on Tumblr! We haven’t done much but man.....even Grundy was excited to see an old friend from the Injustice Society/ Injustice Gang.)
@youstolemycoat (Okay, hands down, Nick Necro is so much fun to plot with. His Robin verse is so fun too and poor Grundy tries to help but a certain birdy won’t let him. XD)
@ufotm (Tiny alien baby. :3)
@thetrigonborn
@kitfreeman
@partcfyouruniverse/ @diamondcladclown ( An awesome mun and my goodness her Harley is EPIC! I love the metas about Harley too and you just GET HER. And that????? Is the sign of an excellent writer and mun.)
@bigbadkillercroc ( I love your Croc and the brotherly bond he has with Grundy! It’s so refreshing to see these two bonding instead of Grundy tearing off Waylon’s face like he did in the Solomon Grundy mini-series. :C)
@blizzardmuses (I LOVE YOUR MUSES OMG. Your Batgirl?????? I ADORE HER. I love Freeze as a member of the Birds of Prey and I love tossing Grundy at your muses because the guy needs love and an excuse to smash.....and I really love both lol.)
@starfirechan (You’re Starfire is so freaking CUTE! I love how she and Grundy get along so well since they’re kind of two misfits that aren’t very well-versed in city life. XD)
@gotham-crusader/ @maximummuses (One of the best Batman and Damian Wayne RPers out there! I have a lot of fun with our threads and even if they fizzle out there is so much heart to them that they’re some of my absolute favorites no matter what muse I put on. C:)
@teufortsquidman (PRAWN! Okay, a giant mega-zombie and an Eldritch abomination? Yeah they’re gonna be good pals lol. XD)
@tragedybcrn (Hands down one of the BEST Batman RPers I’ve talked to and plotted with. I love how Bruce helps Freeze and even Grundy try to be better than just crooks. Grundy though has had so many bad experiences that he can’t trust anyone anymore unless there is some SERIOUS help. But he’ll learn to at least try to trust Batman.....because Batman was genuinely nice to him.)
@krygothite ( I freaking LOVE your Bane! We haven’t written much but FFFFF0yeah he’s epic. XD And Grundy is kind of nervous about bringing Bane to Slaughter Swamp because Bane is tough but not kaiju-sized gators and snakes tough....
Or....maybe he is.....let’s test him. >:D)
@batvvmn
@redwinefangs (VAmpire Batman? Vampire Batman. We have an epic trifecta of vampire Bats, Freezy-wolf and zombaby Grundy and I LOVE it. These three are so much fun to plit ideas around. XD)
@bclaur
@stcrshnes
@titanicscionofthestars ( I freaking LOVE Sara! All across my blogs I love her and the way you write her! And I swear her reaction to Grundy being impaled????? MY HEART. ;A;)
@jcinthedance  (JERVIS! Okat for real I love the image of Hatter and Grundy just enjoying a tea party at the asylum and being weird dorks. XD)
@adventurepunks (I absolutelky LOVE your Zatanna! She’s so fun and I’d love to plot more with her! :D)
@shesquiinnsane
@laughter-in-white (YOU????? Are??? Like the BEST Joker. Hands down. Your Croptop J is so much fun to plot with and he’s funny and being dramatic for Bats. And Grundy is like ‘yeah he’s crazy but he’s my crazy.’)
@yourfavoritesidekick
@smartvulpix (* glomps on you for being epic*)
@thehouseofivo (Your Freeze and Julian are AWESOME! Love throwing my guys at them both lol)
@lil-miss-romano
@sweet-tea-solly
@slauhter
@occultsleuth
@wiisectrpillar
@wonderlandcarpenter
@gunborn
64 notes · View notes
batarella · 4 years ago
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I Don’t Hate You - Part 5 (Jason Todd x Reader)
will i ever find true love? with standards like this? will i ever find someone who’ll quench my thirst like jaybaby does?
nah.
(If you haven’t already noticed, since the reader is inspired by Jade West, ALL the songs in her singing scenes come from the covers by the iconic Liz Gillies! This one’s scene is inspired by Liz’s live story right here)
WORD: 6908 WARNINGS: EVEN MORE FLUFF BWAHAHAHAHA
Masterlist
I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST
-----
Jason: ‘don’t do it.’
Jerry the science teacher was starting to catch on to him with Jason’s eyes darting to his crotch for no reason and his hand under the desk, but Jason managed to fool him by pulling out his notebook right where his phone was and pretended to take notes with his free hand. It was getting harder to hide it though, especially when he’d crack into a wide grin in the middle of a boring discussion all of a sudden. He looked like an idiot.
Y/N: ‘I’ll fucking do it.’
Jason: ‘she’ss a teaacher.’
Y/N: ‘that hasn’t stopped me before.’
Jason was writing scribbles onto his notebook at that point, lingering his eyes on the teacher for as long as he could while his other hand blindly texted barely readable typos. How were you able to text so well?
You sent another text before he could respond. ‘I’m totally doing it.’
Jason: ‘I’m sure she wasd looookin behind yuu’
Y/N: ‘no. she was definitely looking at me. Who else would she look at when she’s talking about baby murderers.’
Jason: ‘oh.’
Jason really wanted to laugh now. He double texted.
Jason: ‘I get it now.’
Y/N: ‘im not a fucking serial killer.’
Three dots floating in a bubble followed after.
Y/N: ‘yet.’
Jason kept his eyes on the board. Thankfully, this was chemistry. Bruce taught him more about that subject than Jerry ever will. He didn’t need to listen.
Y/N: ‘it’s just her divorce.’
Jason: ‘you have got to stop asking facultyyyt memberd how their divorce is going.’
Y/N: ‘why not’
Jerry definitely caught him by now. His glances at him included unbothered shakings of his head and flattened lips. But he didn’t say anything and went on with the discussion. He probably didn’t bother. Jason would end up with the highest test score no matter what he was doing in his desk. And the man had large bags under his eyes that screamed ‘I really don’t give a fuck about any of you’ to his students.
Jason: ‘you’re worse than a serial killer.’
You: ‘Im no Amelia Dyer.’
Jason: ‘remind me to look her up.’
You: ‘she killed 400 babies and had a infant farm for 20 years before she got caught.’
Jason: ‘sounds like something you’d do’
Y/N: ‘I don’t kill babies. I just scare them.’
Jason: ‘that’s the first step right there.’
You sent a middle finger and it made him silently cackle. Somehow, your sense of humor through came off a lot less dark, maybe because you didn’t sound like you were serious, when in actuality, you probably were. It didn’t matter though. He was smiling like a crazy person in the middle of a discussion about balancing equations.
Jason placed his phone back into his pocket and waited for the bell to ring so he could go meet you at the library for the fifth week since you started. You were halfway through your sentence. He never thought he’d get there. Somehow, he wasn’t exactly looking forward to the end of it as he thought he would.
Just yesterday, he told himself it was wrong to enjoy watching you scream at the stoners hiding behind the encyclopedia sections knowing no one would go in there at all. You were, quite literally, kicking them out of the library while Ms. Peterson backed you up like a shrieking duo. One of them cried while you charged at him, looking like you were about to tear his hair out and you threatening to stick his blunt up his earhole.
It went from something so obnoxious to something so amusing to watch. Perhaps the wrong was in him.
Jason listened to the teacher for the last ten minutes of the class, then the bell rung and everyone started for the exit. He picked up his bag, then took out his phone to tell you he was on his way.
“Texting in class now, Todd?”
He wanted to throw his bag, or anything he had on his hands really, to that source of that voice. Brandon. Fucking Brandon. With his still throbbing new nose and football varsity jacket over his shoulders that made him look even more loathsome than he already does. He came up to Jason and stood him off.
“Every single day for the past week, you text in class.” Brandon brought his leg up to rest on a chair beside Jason. “What? You think you’re so much smarter than everyone now?”
“I’m smarter than you, that’s for sure. But that’s not really much to brag about.”
“I can tell on you, you know. How’d your GPA like that?”
“Didn’t know you were a dirty snitch, Brandon.”
“Who you texting?” he raised his arms up to intimidate him. “That psycho bitch you hang out with all the time?”
Bruce told him to keep his rage in check even more so in class than he barely does in patrols, but at that moment, in a dizzying blur, Jason skillfully pushed Brandon against the wall and pulled his fist behind him without much care for the onlooking crowd.
“Want a new nose again, jackass?”
“Fuck you-“
“ALRIGHT, ENOUGH. STEP AWAY FROM HIS NOSE.”
Jerry. Poor Jerry. The tired teacher grabbed onto Jason’s shoulder and pulled him away from the linebacker. Jason backed down, lowering his arm, then kept his glare on him while he puffed up his jacket.
“Both of you. Get out of here. Todd, you don’t want me to send you to the VP’s office again before I call your father. Everyone walk away. Yes, everyone. Walk on. Get on with your business.”
He kept his head craned down while Jerry screamed at anyone sparing him a look. Jason shoved his bag over his back and stormed out of the room. Slamming the door, he walked to the library and found an empty table waiting for him with a cart full of books at the side. Ms. Peterson had her hand on her hip, snarling at him when he took the seat. “Get to these by today, boy.”
He ignored her and sat down, leaning forward to take yet another nap with his arms folded under his head.
All it takes is one triggering moment. One thug to taunt him. One word from the Joker. One lecture from Bruce. One threat to his humanity. And now his head’s all boiled up and all he wanted to do was block out the rest of the world and take a nap. And even then, he knew he wouldn’t wake up feeling any better.
“Jason,” Bruce told him a five weeks ago, the first day of his library sentence. “Anything going on in school you should tell me about?”
“Nothing. What makes you think that?”
“You caused trouble,” he said. “You picked a fight.”
“I’m fine. I’m not letting it affect my grades.”
“This isn’t about your grades. You can't let your business from the field affect you and hurt innocent people.”
“I’m not-“
“The next time the principal calls me with you starting another fight-“
“You’ll what? Take away my phone privileges?”
“I’m taking away your suit.”
He stormed out of that room before he could say anything more. Bruce never brought it up again, but Jason knew he was going to keep his word no matter what.
Jason didn’t even notice when you took the seat across of him with that prolonged, annoyed grunt that most often came with an eye roll. You placed your bag to your side and poked at his arm.
“Ey. You gotta help me with this.”
He didn’t look up when you pulled out your notes and your textbook. “WAKE UP.”
You repeatedly patted his shoulder until he let out a large enough grunt to make him crane his head up, eye squinting at you and his black hair covering his eyes. He really needed a haircut.
“What do you want now?”
“You weren’t this grumpy this morning.” You smirked. “I have to make a lit paper.”
“Why can't you do it yourself?”
“’Cuz you're the expert here. And I need that A.”
He buried his face back into his arms. “I’m not in the mood, Y/N.”
“Come on,” you said. Your voice prolonged the last syllable and you started to sound more annoying. “Don’t be a baby.”
“Just do it and ask me questions or some shit.”
“But I need your help-“
“And by the end of this, we’re at each other’s throats. I really don’t have the time for that now.”
You backed up, scoffing. “’Cuz you have something so much better to do?”
“Yeah,” he snarled. “Like taking a nap.”
He didn’t even glance at you taken aback and ignored you cursing under your breath. “Fine. Eat a dick, asshole.”
You took your stuff and drowned them into your bag, shuffling out of the table. A girl came up to you with a voice lower than a whistle. “Uhm, excuse me-“
“NO!” you screeched, then headed for the next table before she could ask anything more. The poor girl was trembling on her knees by the time you found an empty seat and pour out everything in your bag. His head was a mess, and the silence was the first step to actually making him clear his grime-covered mind. Jason kept shutting his eyes closed and focused on the blunt colors that appeared before his eyes in the shape of spirals.
For half an hour, he kept at his nap, falling asleep for a good ten minutes before he awoke to the sound of your screaming at a guy too stupid to ask you if the seat next to you was free while you were fumbling with your assignment. Jason groaned into his arm, feeling his head swell and ache and already knowing Bruce was waiting for him at home with yet another long, agonizing lecture on picking fights he never wanted in the first place. His eyes started to hurt from the force he used to shut them close, and everything in his mind was as hot as fire.
Leaning back against the chair, he knew this was going to bite him in the ass, sooner or later.
And one of the very very very few reasons he got to smile or even laugh all day was now violently taking notes while reading a book with the most fed up, furious expression on her face. He pulled out his bag, taking a water bottle and finishing its contents down his throat before he shot up and pushed his chair back.
Jason stood in front of your desk, his hand on the back of the chair across of you and waited for you to take notice of him. Your glare was terrifying. And it actually made him want to step back for once. But he stood his ground and sighed. “Can I help?”
“Get out of here.”
“I can help you.”
“I don’t need an asswipe telling me off.”
He took the chair despite you and you stared at your notebook, still with your eyebrows arched way up.
“Sorry.”
You ignored him and kept with your notes. He peered over, his elbows on the table, and you practically hissed at him when he got too close. Raising his hands up to surrender, he snarled at him before you continued your work.
“How many of reports have you done so far?”
You didn’t look like you were going to respond, and you kept writing like he wasn’t there in front of you at all. Jason couldn’t help but smile seeing you so angry and focused, knowing you were trying your best to block him out and failing miserably when he could see your eyebrow twitch and your eyes darting at him every few seconds.
Squirming his hand to you, his finger tugged on your gray sweater and scratched you like you had an itch. You pursed your lips and pulled your fist out so you looked like you were about to punch him, but he playfully held your hand and backed off. That was when he was fully smiling by now. He could block out all other thoughts easily when it was so fun to bug you.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and you finally looked up to his eyes. “Come on. Let me help.”
You licked the outside of your teeth and let out a long sigh that came with your usual grunt. Knowing you’d hate and love it at the same time, he ruffled your hair and you charged at him, almost stabbing him with your pen.
You finally managed to smile, then you gave in and handed him your notebook.
“The Fall of the House of Usher by Edgar Allan Poe,” you said. “What do you think?”
He leaned over the table, glancing at you, then taking the time to read your notes on what you understood from the passage. “This is good.”
“I’ve read the whole book like ten times by now.”
That made his chest feel just a bit warmer. “Really?”
“Yeah,” you took out the collection book he gave you. “Ms. Peterson has no idea. I’m supposed to have four weeks-worth of penalties because of this.”
Knowing he gave you something, and you happened to like it so much that you wanted it to be your report for literature class, and with you writing a decent paper about it, with you reading it over and over, it instantly became one of the things he won't easily forget.
He never grinned so much in a while, probably since a week ago in the gym. Jason watched you take back your notebook, continuing to write as he gazed too long at your parted lips. Feeling his flesh burn, he looked away.
“I won't bite you if you change anything, you know.” you said, your eyes keeping on your notes. “Go nuts.”
You tore off the page and handed it over to Jason, then you gave him a pen. Smiling at you, he took it, then started to circling words he thought you should change and other ideas he had of his own. A moment of silence, you didn’t scream anything at him when you he gave you the corrections. You graciously nodded, then started rewriting them onto a separate page. Your hair was falling to your cheeks, and it touched your skin so delicately and soft. Pretty.
So pretty.
He was gawking. He was so gawking. You’ll never let him hear the end of it. He shook his head and pretended he wasn’t just resting his chin on his hand like a teenage girl.
The thought of you reading Poe’s works still hadn’t left his mind. It wasn’t even a complete collection. There were so many more stories out there, most just on the internet. Maybe tonight, he could send some to you and you might enjoy them, too.
Or, maybe not. Patrol. Bruce has been telling him not to text so much while he was out supposedly beating criminals. But he couldn’t help it.
There was just something about making you happy, or even just smile or let out a bit of a laugh that made him feel a whip of a breezy rush. You were often sad when you were alone, and whatever you felt at school, it was so much worse at home. Everyday, you told him bits more of how it was like with your parents.
He saw so much of himself in you. You were eerily similar. Too similar. The hidden rage, the angst kept within. Maybe that was why he liked making you laugh so much.
“So what story did you like most?”
You grinned. “I’m not entirely sure. The Black Cat’s definitely up there. I don’t know. I really like all of them.”
“I’ve read that. The Black Cat,” he said, leaning back. “What makes you like it so much?”
“I like the idea of a cat being the whole reason his life goes downhill, kills his wife, and eventually gets caught. Like his whole life was being dictated by his pet.”
“That’s dark.”
“I know,” you smirked. “That’s why I like it so much.”
He had his arms crossed over on the table to cover his chest. “You becoming a serial killer seems more possible now.”
“Fuck you,” you said, sticking your tongue out.  
It was almost 4:30. He didn’t even notice the clock. You and Jason had the most civil conversation, not an insult or a mean comment on anything other than a playful back and forth. You closed your notes, then your book, then you stretched out your arms.
“Ms. Peterson’s gonna be pissed. We haven’t done any work today at all.”
“Just put the cart behind that shelf over there. We’ll take care of it tomorrow.”
He laughed, and you went with him as he stood up and did exactly so. “I can take you home today. But we have to leave now. Bruce wants me to go with him on this… thing.”
“Nah.” You pulled on your sweater as you headed out the door. “I’ll stay behind. Dad’s usually awake at this time. He won't be asleep until like, an hour from now.”
Jason respectfully understood, and you watched him as he walked out through the halls, turning at the corner.
He pulled out his phone. There was a text from Bruce.
‘You coming tonight?’
He didn’t bother to respond when he was already on his way home. Yesterday, Penguin and Two Face both had their own bank robberies at opposite ends of town. He repeatedly told Bruce he could handle Cobblepot on his own, but he refused and demanded he go with him while they take them out one by one.
Jason was reluctant of course, and it wasn’t like he had a choice. But he did a great job at finishing off Two Face’s crew that it didn’t take long for them to go all the way to the other bank and catch Penguin before they even got to half the bank’s vaults. Bruce told him he had the option to go with him to patrol tonight or not, but if he were, he had to come home early and not laze around in school like he often did.
Tonight, he chose to go to patrol. He thought he needed an outlet and imagine Brandon’s face on the heads of drug dealers. The thought alone made him grin.
Jason walked out the exit and reached for his keys.
Except he totally forgot he wasn’t even wearing his bag until he’d walked to his motorcycle. Groaning as he walked back into the school’s entrance, he sprinted for the library, catching the door open just as Ms. Peterson was about to walk out with a deathly glare on her face at him. Jason ran for his bag, took it, then gave Ms. P a fun little hug before walking back out.
He took out his phone, expecting a text from you, but there was nothing. So he asked you where you were before heading back out.
Out into the now empty halls, Jason walked pass the lockers, the dark classrooms, the one bright light at the center, he kept his hands in his pockets and sighed.
Piano keys.
Piano keys?
Playing. Simple chords played out but had a familiar tune he couldn’t get out from the back of his mind.
And singing.
A voice he’s only heard so often, yet he could pick out from a million others.
The music room was one he didn’t go in too often, but the sound came from there. The door wasn’t closed, and slowly, he peered it open.
A beam so little from the window, yet he could see how your back was so straight up, how your lean fingers rested gracefully onto the keys, playing the chords in perfectly strewn out notes that he could just tell you’ve been at this for quite some time. From an angle slightly to the left, you couldn’t see him, but he could see a bit of your face, the side of it, how your eyelids looked closed looking down at your own fingers.
Then you sang.
 I've seen the world, done it all
Had my cake now
Diamonds, brilliant, in Bel-Air now
Hot summer nights, mid July
When you and I were forever wild
The crazy days, city lights
The way you'd play with me like a child
Will you still love me
When I'm no longer young and beautiful?
Will you still love me
When I've got nothing but my aching soul?
I know you will, I know you will
I know that you will
Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?
 You…
You…
Yeah.
You were beautiful.
So beautiful…
 Will you still love me
When I'm no longer young and beautiful?
 You just… kept going.
And there was nothing, not ever, in the entire length of his existence, of his years at the streets, of his few years as Robin, of his time at either a ratty apartment or a manor, of all the people he’s met, of any song that he’s heard.
Nothing. Nothing compared to your voice. Nothing compared to you.
 Hot summer days, rock and roll
The way you play for me at your show
And all the ways, I got to know
Your pretty face and electric soul
 Breathy, low, and everything he’s kept to remember. His chest never felt so light, yet his heart was beating out of his ribcage. His bag was almost dropped down his shoulder, his mouth was parted, his face deeply flushed. Even when you played the wrong note, cursed, then went on just as perfectly as you ever could, he couldn’t tear his eyes off of you.
His eyes were so relaxed on you, and nothing, not even his trembling shoulders could make him look away.
You reached the higher notes with a perfect falsetto, then your voice echoed out even with the room as small as a stuffy classroom. His eyebrows were up to his forehead and he didn’t know if he was still breathing, when he was standing so still, frozen like a block of ice.
You had so much deepness and soul, and you were often whispering the words, but then your voice would go up in a perfect blend.
Perfect. That was all he could think of. Perfect.
His bag was on the floor now, the only thing keeping it up was a single finger.
Lana Del Ray. You sung it better than her. In his most humble, honest, totally not biased opinion. Shit, he even felt like he wanted to cry. His chest was heaving and his face never burned up so much, at almost the end of the song, he finally had it in him to move from his place and throw himself back against a wall.
Breathe. Fucking breathe.
 Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?
Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?
Will you still love me when I'm not young and beautiful?
 That last note, you breathed it out so nicely, it went straight into his soul, biting his lip, then closing his eyes.
He smiled like the biggest fucking idiot for the nth time that very day.
Jason looked like a fourteen year old girl cooing over a boyband. He laid his head against the wall, staring at the ceiling, hearing you sing vocal runs and pressing randomly at the piano. And he couldn’t stop showing his teeth, his face was hurting like a bitch, but fuck.
FUCK.
He’s never felt anything like this. Like his head was lighter than the air around him, lighter than the softness of your falsetto. He was still catching his breath and grinning above him, then at the ground, then back at the wall. It wasn’t on what he stared at. Your voice ringing in his ears, like angels were flying around playing their little harps over his head, like the sun was shining so brightly against him that he couldn’t see even a smidge of darkness anywhere in the world. How your face scrunched up, how your eyebrows raised, how you’d close your eyes and feel the song as it flew out your lips.
He rubbed on his chin and mouth to ease his aching muscles. Jason kept with his breathing, the fluttering in his chest. Everything. Everything.
Jason needed to wash his face with ice cold water at this point, gathering enough courage, he looked back into the room.
You were staring back at him.
-----
You didn’t look mad.
Though you definitely, most probably should.
You didn’t even notice he was there until the end of the song when he hit the wall with his back. Idiot must’ve thought you wouldn’t hear him.
But you weren’t mad. Not at all. Not from the way he was looking at you. Not when he was staring at you in a way no one ever had in your whole life. Not when you could see how his lips were parted and how his chest was visibly rising and how cute his face was all embarrassed and shit.
You could only smile.
Standing from the piano and grabbing your bag, you walked over to him. Jason gulped down and backed up against the wall with you standing right in front of him.
And after five weeks of knowing him,
Jason Todd finally looked like he was scared shitless of you.
But you didn’t want him to be scared of you. Not anymore. It just doesn’t seem like something you wanted anymore.
“You heard all that, huh?”
Jason was an absolute mess. He cleared his throat three times and hesitantly nodded, keeping his head to the ground.
“I-I’m uh,” he mumbled. “Sorry.”
You shook your head. “Don’t be.”
He didn’t look like he had another answer. Jason scratched the back of his head. “Uhm-“
“Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
You walked first, but looked back to see if he followed. Jason rushed to your side, making sure his blush wasn’t so evident even though it clearly was. You were better at hiding your own embarrassment, so you nudged his shoulder.
Jason laughed out loud and looked at you the same way he looked at the stars. You looked back at him the same way.
“You gonna take me home?”
He managed to form a sentence. “I thought you wanted to stay longer.”
You shrugged. “I guess I can take it.”
When you stepped out the gate, Jason walked you over to his bike and handed you his second helmet. Playfully, you hit the side of his and chuckled when you sat behind him, clutching onto his waist. You felt him tense, but he eventually relaxed and you leaned in to him.
You leaned your head on his back this time. You never did that before. Your clutch was tighter, your eyes closed. If it were anyone, it could pass for simply wanting to be more secure. But that day you just wanted to hold someone you actually didn’t mind being with before you’d get home and all this would end in an abrupt stop.
After a long while, you still couldn’t smell smoke emissions from cars or even hear the horns or bells or shouts from all the city folk near your apartment. Looking up then around you with the sun still shining brightly even at this time of day, you were in the countryside. Away from the city.
“WHERE ARE WE GOING?”
“YOU’LL SEE.”
You could smell cow dung, and the earthy scent of grass you should be more used to than you actually are. The road ahead of you was wide and long, and the air was so much lighter than it was at home. You closed your eyes, this time feeling the wind against your skin.
Jason was smiling through his helmet. Further down the road, you held onto him. “I THOUGHT YOU HAD SOMEWHERE TO GO TONIGHT.”
“I TEXTED BRUCE. I’M NOT GOING WITH HIM. JUST HOLD ON.”
You smiled and looked on when he made a turn into a forest with tall trees getting taller as you rode further down. There were no people around you. Not even houses. You leaned into his shoulder and rested your chin on top.
Jason started to slow down when you reached deeper into the trees, finally stopping his bike by the curb. The air was cold, and you wrapped your sweater tighter around your body after you’ve removed your helmet. “Where are we?”
“Come on.”
Jason walked towards the trees, where there was a little cement pathway now covered in weeds and grass growing out of its cracks. You had trouble making your way through, especially when your boots had a bit of a heel in them, then you walked to Jason’s side as it became clearer what you were there for.
An old, abandoned house. Something out of the dozens of horror movies you’ve saved in your laptop.
“Dude…”
“You like?”
It was small, but its picket fence and flaking white wooden walls just screamed fifties to you, with a triangular roof, two windows on the second level, a half-circle glass wall on the right side of the first floor, and a door so rickety and old, colored in an earthly brown that had mixed in with the debris and rot. Vines were all over its porch, and there was even a rocking chair sitting right outside by the entryway, also covered in vines. Outside of the house was an old pickup truck that had rusted beyond use, sinking into the ground like it was pulled by the earth.
“How’d you know I always wanted to go urban exploring?”
“I just figured.” Jason smiled. “Come on. We can go inside.”
“Are you sure?” you eagerly started for the door. “It won't break?”
“I’ve been here once. The stairs are broken so we can't go to the second floor. Just be careful.”
Pulling the unlocked door open, and Jason right behind you, you flashed him a smile before stepping inside.
It was seriously from the horror movies you’ve watched over and over. The first thing that greeted you was a nice little foyer, with a table in the middle and a vase that used to house flowers for sure. Then behind it was the broken staircase Jason mentioned. It was made entirely out of wood, and it had fallen in so bad that it was basically a wall by now. So much of the wood was on the ground, and there were lots of papers, books, clothes, and several others cluttering all around the floor. You had to walk all over them.
There were two entry ways at the sides of the foyer. One leading to the living room, and one to the dining room and kitchen. Everything further down had been blocked out by wooden planks and even more clutter. The living room was beautiful with the glass walls that formed a half circle and a petite grand piano standing in the middle. Its cover was up, and its keys had completely gone. There was still a bit of light coming in to the windows, which shone on the room so nicely, it was perfect.
The couches were completely ruined, and you wouldn’t dare sit on it. At the center of the room, though, which caught your eye the most, was a beautiful, broken chandelier that had fallen to the ground, which was why there was so much broken glass around the floor.
At the other side, the dining room was a bit more modest. A table seating six was still intact, but the chairs were either toppled over to the ground or broken in half. Even more clutter was on the table. Nearby was the kitchen, with an island in the middle, an old-fashioned fridge you probably wouldn’t want to go near to, and other kitchen supplies scattered around.
You both took out your phones and took pictures of the place. It was too good to witness.
“Jason…”
“I know,” he raised his arms up, putting his phone back into his pocket. “Amazing.”
You covered your mouth, then walked on over to the piano. You ran your hands over it, ignoring the mountains of dust that formed over your fingers. “I dare you to play it.”
“There’s barely any keys left.”
You watched him laugh, then you both walked around the chandelier. “Getting a bit of the Phantom of the Opera vibes in here.”
“Don’t touch it.”
“I wasn’t going to.” You eyed it carefully, then you looked up at the empty ceiling. It looked almost like it was going to fall in. Hopefully it wouldn’t.
“The family that used to live here, they left around fifty years ago. A mom, dad, and two twin girls. They both had tuberculosis and died in this very house. The parents just left it after they died. Never took anything along with them.”
“That’s terrifying. You think they’ve got a listing on this place?”
Jason chuckled. “The twins used to be theater stars. That’s why they’ve got a piano. To practice. And they built the whole place around it so the sounds would echo nicely.”
You finally got it. Shaking your head with a knowing smile, you turned to Jason. He had his hands stuck to his hoodie pockets, his head craned down, his hair falling to his eyes, and his smile all over the bottom half of his face.
“Is that why you took me here?”
“You have…” he gulped, never looking away from your eyes. “The most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard in my life…”
You had to look away. For your own sake. You were turning red so much, it was embarrassing. “Stop.”
“I’m serious. You never told me you sang.”
“It’s not exactly something I hid.  I’ve sung in school a couple of times. Like in middle school graduation.”
“So I’m basically the only one in school who hasn’t heard you sing?” He placed his hand on his chest. Then pretended to scoff.
“Why don’t you sing. Right here.”
“Todd. No.”
“Come on. We have the place for it.”
You looked up at the ceiling, which was high for a house so small. It probably went all the way up to the roof. “No way.”
Jason kept nudging you, but you wouldn’t give in. You couldn’t help your smile though. You and Jason walked over to the kitchen and just looked at all the things the family left behind. Even the toaster was untouched, and you’ve never seen an oven so old fashioned before, it still had that pastel green color on the parts that hadn’t been taken over by rust.
It was starting to get dark. But you never wanted to leave. “Thank you.”
You said it without looking directly at him, but he got it. Going back outside before everything would completely dim out, Jason walked over to the pickup truck and jumped on its back.
You didn’t have the agility to just jump on top of it without possibly pulling a muscle, so you just watched Jason sit on the edge of it and swung his legs in the air.  Standing beside him and leaning your back against the truck, you both watched the house as the sun started to set behind it. You could see the beams scatter just at the center of the roof where it angled down. The sky had grown from a brightly lit yellow to a dark orange.
-----
You and Jason were a recipe for trouble.
Was it because you were too similar? Harbored the same anger? The same hatred for a number of people you didn’t even know? Was it because you both stirred trouble when it wasn’t asked for?
It was a recipe for trouble because, according to the young adult romance novels and movies, Jason was supposed to be with a nice, sweet, innocent girl who’d bring out the good in him and was kind to everyone, have just enough of that spice in her that would draw attention but still be a sweetheart, and she’d be made of happiness and rainbows and would be what brightens up Jason’s darkness.
You were not that girl. You were the opposite. You had that same darkness as he did. You had so much anger, and instilled so much fear onto anyone you didn’t like. Maybe you were even darker. And if it were up to those same novels and movies, you were supposed to end up with basically the same type of person, someone who was bright and yellow and happy. Not Jay.
But with you both being so similar, so full of angst and dread and hate, in a world were opposites were supposed to belong together,
why does he bring so much light and hope?
How does someone just as unhappy as you are come along and make you laugh like the world was about to end?
How does someone just as full of pent up rage as you are come along, and make it all go away for a sweet, short moment?
How was it all possible? How could two people, two very similar people, fit into a puzzle that called for them to fill it what you didn’t have?
How could someone supposed to fuel the fire already inside you end up being the sun?
Jason never thought of that either. In fact, he thought he might end up with someone in his line of work. Another vigilante. Not a mean girl from school who terrorizes students with a pair of fucking scissors.
But, somehow, it all just made everything he was turn into what he was supposed to be. You could say the same.
With you in your little room and Jason in his significantly larger one in the manor, you both sank to the ground, backs against the wall, and you pulled out your phones.
You had left a message first.
Y/N: ‘Urban exploring should be more of a thing.’
Jason smiled.
Jason: ‘Nah. People would crowd those places and vandalize them.’
Y/N: ‘True. I’d want them all to myself anyway.’
Jason: ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’
You felt your heart jump. God, this had to stop.
Y/N: ‘I did. Thank you.’
Jason: ‘Should I get used to you being nice to me now?’
Y/N: ‘Probably not.’
He laughed and shuffled his knees.
Y/N: ‘Send me the pictures you took.’
Scrolling through his albums, he selected everything he took that day and sent it all to you. Leaning on his back, looking up at the ceiling as he waiting, Jason imagined the look on your face when you first saw the house. Your eyes never shone so brightly.
You looked through the pictures and found several, about eight of them, centered on nothing else but you smiling at the ceiling, at the piano, at the chandelier, at the tables.
Y/N: ‘Dude. Why this angle of me?’
Confused, Jason looked through the pictures.
And he cursed out loud, over and over, burying his head in his hands when he saw he’d accidentally sent eight pictures he’d secretly taken of you. Fuck it all. This is how he dies. This is the death of Jason Todd.
You were smiling out of your face, and instead of saying anything mean or the thousands of jokes that instantly came up to the front of your mind, you did the same and sent him pictures you took.
And Jason’s heart rose up from where it sank to the floor when he saw you’d taken just as many pictures of him, doing the same things as you did and some with him holding his phone up. One was just his face.
He was a fucking grinning mess by then.
Jason: ‘Don’t I look good.’
Yeah, you cooed. You certainly do. But you didn’t say that to him. You just went along with him and he changed the subject.
Jason: ‘Huge favor.’
Y/N: ‘Shoot.’
Jason: ‘Send me a voice message of you singing.’
Y/N: ‘Absolutely not.’
Jason: ‘Please.’
Y/N: ‘No.’
Jason: ‘I’ll do your library work for three days.’
Y/N: ‘not even if you beg, Todd.’
Jason: ‘I keep my promises, just so you know.’
Y/N: ‘Still no.’
Jason: ‘Sing in the library tomorrow then.’
Y/N: ‘Ms. P will throw me out the fucking window.’
Jason: ‘Yeah, she probably will.’
Y/N: ‘Do my shelving work for three weeks. Then I’ll send you a five second audio message of me humming.’
Jason: ‘Make it a minute of a song of MY choice. Then I’ll do it for a week.’
Y/N: ‘not a chance.’
Jason: ‘what do I have to do then.’
Nothing. You gripped your phone to your chest. I’d sing for you if it makes you smile any day.
Y/N: ’Two weeks. I get to ride on the cart while you shelf my books.’
Jason: ‘Deal.’
You threw your head back, then you made a two second audio message of you screaming “NICE TRY, TODD.”
Jason: ‘Mother fucker.’
Y/N: ‘HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.’
4 am. You slept at 4 am that night. And only because your eyes couldn’t take it and Jason was drooling on his bed after doing exercises to stay up and talk to you.
He had it bad.
Really bad.
And, not surprisingly, so did you.
----
I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST
-----
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mischiefandspirits · 3 years ago
Text
Last Laugh (1 of 3)
“Oh, I noticed,” Red X said lowly, tossing the staff aside. “What that idiot was thinking letting Flamebird send you all the way across the country right after Batkid got blown up, I’ll never know.”
Robin flinched back at the accusation before his fists clenched at his sides. “Then you’ll be happy to know no one sent me here. It’s just where I ended up when Batman decided he didn’t want to work with me anymore and tossed me out.”
The story of how Dick ended up with the Titans in Batkid and Robin.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Richard?”
“Richard, may I come in?”
“If you do not want me to come in then you need to tell me.”
“I’m coming in.”
Light filled the room for a moment then disappeared. The bed shifted and a hand settled on Dick’s back.
“Barbara told me what happened.”
Heat. A ringing in his ears. “BATKID!” “Red Wing, please!” Digging. Bodies. “No. Jason.” A mother and son… or a pair of acrobats… Blood. Footprints leading to tire tracks. “My son, I’m so sor-Robin? Robin, get back here!”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”
“Why can’t I come with you and Jon?” “You’re not quite ready for a space mission yet, Richard. I’ve talked to Father, though. He said you could patrol with him and Jason until I return so long as you two don’t get into too much trouble.” “We’re not that bad.”
“I’m sorry,” Dick said, his voice hoarse.
“Imagine how mad he’ll be if I’ve clipped the wings of a baby bat and a baby bird on the same day!” Zap! “Haha! Aw Jeez, I hit Batkid harder than that!” “Shut up!” “So,” a groan, “the first Demon Child taught you a,” a hiss, “a few tricks, hahaha!” “I said shut! Up!” “Hahahaha!” “ROBIN!” “B?” “He’s had enough.” “He killed -” “I know. I… I know.” “Don’t worry, Boy Blunder, you’ll join him soon enough!” “What are you talking ab-” “Robin! Move now!” An explosion.
“I killed him.”
The hand started rubbing circles into Dick’s back. “That’s not true.”
“If I hadn’t attacked him like that, if I hadn't beaten him as bad as I did, he would have made it out.”
“He was the one who set off the explosion, Richard. That’s not on you.” The hand shifted up to Dick’s shoulder and tugged him closer to the warm presence next to him.
He pressed his face into the warmth as another hand came up to card through his hair. “B thinks it’s my fault.”
“Father doesn't think anything right now. He’s still processing his grief. We all are. You are not at fault for what happened. If Joker is dead -- and his body still hasn’t been found so we don’t even know if he is finally gone -- then it is no one's fault but his own.”
Dick shook his head. “I shouldn’t’ve attacked him.”
There was a pause, then a sigh. “No, you should not have. It was extremely reckless and we… You could have gotten yourself killed. You are extremely lucky Joker had not expected you to be with Father so you were able to catch him off guard. Impulsive behavior… It’s already taken Jason, you can’t let it take you too.”
Dick’s fingers dug into his calves from where his arms were wrapped around his legs.
“I found my mom.” “Batkid? B said -” “It’s okay. She said Joker isn’t here. It’s safe. We’re going to talk inside so no one sees us.” “But -” “I can talk her around, Red Bird. I know I can. Please, don’t tell B. She’s my mom.” “O-okay. Just be careful.” “It’ll be fine. She said he won’t be back for hours.”
She lied.
“It wasn’t his fault.”
“I-That’s not what I mea-”
“Yes, it was.”
Another sigh. The warmth moved away so the hand in his hair could come down to cup his cheek. It brushed away his tears and tilted his head up, but he didn’t look at the face hovering over him. “Richard -”
“I wanna be alone now. Please.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m tired.”
There was a beat, then the hands and warmth and face moved away. “Alright. Get some rest. I have to go talk to Father. If… I am here if you need anything.”
Dick nodded and laid down with his back to the warmth.
The light came and went.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When they returned from Ethiopia, Bruce told Dick he’d be benched for a month. It was partly to give his injuries from the fight with Joker time to heal and partly as punishment for running off to said fight. Damian had agreed when he arrived back on Earth a week later and Dick accepted the punishment without complaint.
By the end, though, he was itching to get out of the manor. He hated being trapped in one place for too long. With the media going crazy over Jason’s death, Bruce had managed to arrange for him to finish the last few weeks of school from home and Damian decided they would remain at the manor instead of heading back to their house in Somerset. It was a longer commute to work and patrol for Damian and meant Dick couldn’t run around the neighborhood to visit with his friends, but it was also more secure against paparazzi.
Dick wouldn’t complain since he knew he deserved it, but it didn’t stop him from feeling trapped.
On the day he was meant to go back on patrol, he was skipping through the halls in anticipation of stretching his wings and releasing the tension that had built up under his grief and guilt. He went looking for Damian once he got home to see if he wanted to spar before dinner. When he couldn’t find him in his room or studio, he went to see if Alfred, Bruce, or Selina knew where he was.
“- for a month. I think that’s a fair amount of time.”
Dick perked up when he heard Damian’s voice and ran up to the door to Bruce’s study.
“I don’t mean he should stay on the bench. I meant Robin should be taken off the roster altogether.”
He froze, hand inches from the doorknob.
“I know he shouldn’t have gone after Joker -”
“It’s not just that. Dick… He never should have been brought into this life. He’s not like us and he was too young.”
“I was younger than him when I started out as Batkid,” Damian snapped.
“You were raised by assassins. He had a normal life before you involved him. He deserves a normal life. I know you wanted to help him, but this isn’t the way.”
Bruce was angry. Dick had known that. He didn’t think Bruce would take Robin away from him though. Robin was… his purpose. His place in the family. Without Robin, he didn’t have any reason to be there. And if he wasn’t there…
“Heard Wayne’s taking Grayson.” “Really? Knew his old man liked strays, but I thought he stuck to animals. Why’s he coming for the kid?” “To honor Brucie’s memory? Hell if I know.” “Well, whatever reason, I hope the kid can behave.” “Yeah. Lord knows Wayne hates people at the best of times, can’t imagine how he’ll take to having a brat running around.” “He’d probably return the kid the first time he acts up. Doubt the poor ***** will get another chance too.”
No, Dick couldn’t lose Robin. But Dick was Damain’s partner and Damian wouldn’t let Bruce do that, right? Right?
Why wasn’t Damian saying anything?
“This is what Richard needs,” Damian finally said after a few moments, but the happiness at his words was overshadowed by the ice sliding down Dick’s spine from how calm Damian sounded.
Why wasn’t he mad anymore?
Was… Was he starting to think Bruce was right?
“No, it isn’t,” Bruce said.
“How is he any different than the rest of us?” Damian asked, voice still calm.
“You were raised by assassins. As was Cass. Duke was in a gang. Tim raised himself in that damn empty mansion and spent years trailing after us through Gotham’s streets with nothing but a camera. And Jason lived on those streets.”
Tearing up, Dick wrapped his arms around himself. He knew he wasn’t as smart or skilled as the others, but he’d thought…
“Dick might not have had a typical childhood, but he had a happy one. He grew up with an entirely different mentality than us. You saw how he looked when he went after Joker.”
Dick flinched. He remembered the rage that had flooded through him. He knew he shouldn’t have gone after Joker. That it was stupid and reckless and wrong. Not justified vengeance, just plain old revenge. The very thing Damian had tried to instill against when he’d started out.
But at the time all he could think was that Jason was dead, had been murdered like his parents, and his family kept dying around him and Joker was to blame. He hadn’t meant to go as far as he did, he hadn’t meant for Joker to die!
He just wanted everyone to be safe.
The worst thing, though, was that as much as he wasn’t proud of how he’d run off and put himself in danger, as terrified as he was that he had killed someone, he didn't regret what he’d done to Joker.
“He doesn’t belong in this life, Damian.”
Dick froze. No. No! Losing Robin was one thing, but to not belong…
“I understand.”
Dick staggered back, hand coming to his mouth as the tears fell. He quickly ran back the way he’d come before the sobs could start.
They couldn’t… They couldn’t!
It was one mistake! It was a bad one, but he knew the others had had bad mistakes too. They couldn’t get rid of him for that, right?
Except the others were Bruce’s sons, and he was just Damian’s foster kid. He thought it hadn’t mattered that he wasn’t really family on paper, but maybe it did.
“You’re not getting a family, circus freak.” “Yeah, foster kids ain’t family. They’re just a paycheck.” “Or some rich bastard’s charity case.” “Either way, no one actually cares about them even if they have to pretend to. And no one would care about someone like you.”
Dick barely stopped himself from slamming the door behind him as he staggered into a closet. He dropped to the floor, pressing his knees into his eyes.
He couldn’t go back to juvie. Losing Robin would be torture, but going back to that hellhouse would kill him. Maybe even literally.
He technically wasn’t as defenseless as he was last time. He was sure he’d probably be able to take anyone that tried to hurt him if he tried, but he wouldn’t be able to try. He wouldn’t be Robin going in. He’d be Dick Grayson, former foster son of Damian Wayne. He couldn’t use any of the skills he’d gained as Robin without risking his identity -- former identity -- and the identities of the rest of the Bats by extension. And he would never do that, even if they did return him.
No, he couldn’t go back to juvie, but where else could he go. It’d been made pretty clear both when he got there and when he left that there was nowhere else he’d be sent. Maybe Babs or Cass would take him? Or maybe they could talk Damian around? Duke, Steph, Tim, and Selina would help, right?
Unless they thought Bruce and Damian were right.
“I understand.”
No, they would talk them around. They had to.
Except Bruce and Damian -- like the rest of the family -- were stubborn. Would the others be able to talk them around before they shipped him off?
Maybe if he could buy them time…
He couldn’t go back to juvie.
Dick scrubbed his eyes and got up to slip out of the closet.
His first stop was the cave. He couldn’t grab his normal suit without anyone noticing, but the updated version had just finished testing and hadn’t yet been equipped with trackers. He stuck it into a lockbox alongside some gear.
Then he was up in his room. He stuck the box into a duffle bag with his travel toiletries.
Before he could grab anything else, there was a knock on his door.
He quietly zipped up the bag and knocked it under the bed as he called, “Who is it?”
“It’s me, Richard. Can we talk?”
Dick dropped onto the bed. “Yeah, sure.”
Damian came in with a plate of cookies.
Dick grabbed one, but didn’t press up against his guardian like he normally would.
“You already know why I’m here,” Damian sighed.
“I overheard you talking with Bruce. You’re…” He clenched his fingers around the cookie as he looked up at Damian. “Don’t do this, please. I can be better. I-I won’t do anything like this again, I swear! Please, you can’t! We’re a team. We’re partners! You said so yourself! You cant… you can’t just toss that aside! Toss me aside!”
“It’s not like that, Richard,” Damian said, setting down the plate.
“Then what is it like!” Dick snapped and jumped to his feet, placing them eye-to-eye.
“This life isn’t good for you,” the young man said, meeting his gaze. “Bringing you into it, it was a terrible error in judgment. Father is right. It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just doing what’s best for you.”
“It’s not like you forced me into it! I chose this! I want this!”
“You could have been killed, Dick!” Damian said, voice growing louder.
“I’m sorry! I let my emotions get the best of me! But it won’t happen again!”
“It’s over, Dick!”
“No! You can’t do this! I-I won’t let you! You can’t se-”
“Enough!” Damian shouted, then pressed a hand over his face. In a calmer voice, he said, “I’ve made my decision.”
“Dami, please!” Dick felt tears pricking at his eyes as Damian stood up and turned to leave.
“You’re going to stay here until after the funeral next week. We can talk more about what happens after once you’ve calmed down.”
“You can’t do this to me!”
“You’re better off this way.”
“Wayne is going to be the best chance you’re going to get, kiddo. The only good chance, honestly. I really hope this works out for you.”
“I hate you.”
Damian hesitated by the door, then shut it behind him.
Dick couldn’t go back to juvie.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lines quoted or rewritten:
"Imagine how mad he'll be if I've whacked two Boy Wonders on the same day!" - Joker ~ Joker: Last Laugh #6
"Aw... Jeez... I hit Jason a lot harder than that." - Joker ~ Joker: Last Laugh #6
"Bruce... You... You can't! We're a team. We're partners! You said so yourself!" - Dick ~ Robin: Year One #3
"This was all a terrible error in judgment. Gordon was right." - Bruce ~ Robin: Year One #3
"It’s over, Dick! You’re better off this way." - Bruce ~ Robin: Year One #3
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jinmukangwrites · 4 years ago
Text
Whumptober Day 15
Science Gone Wrong
Ao3
-o-o-o-o-
It really wasn't everyday that Jason found himself teaming up with a bat. Let alone that bat being none other than Robin. But here he was, punching the noses of various villainous evil-dooers in the nose with Damian—the shortest stack to ever exist—fighting right beside him. 
Jason wouldn't be one to really complain about it though. He may not have the most lovey-dovey big-bro relationship with the squirt, but recently Damian could be known to be at least civil with him. They kinda got the sibling bit down, and Jason was alright with that, he didn't want to go anymore into that. 
And really, it wasn't like this team up was planned or anything. Jason simply ended up patrolling Crime Alley and happened across a group of gangsters cornering some poor hooker. He was in the middle of taking them down when Robin jumped in out of nowhere, saying it looked like Jason could use the help in his better-than-thou-but-joking-about-it tone of voice. 
Which whatever. Jason could handle the brat any day. As long as him being here didn't mean the big man was around, Jason was alright with letting the kid stick around. Damian wasn't all bad. He had his quirks, yeah, but can't look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when that gift horse had two swords and knew how to use them. 
Jason ducked under the swinging arm of one of the gangsters, then propelled himself forward to punch them in the gut. 
The gangster went down like a crashing tree, but Jason didn't stick around long enough to listen. He turned around, looking for another opponent—which there was still plenty of—but he stopped in his tracks when he saw Robin involved in a furious fight with a rather large contender, focused on the task of hand and not noticing the thug coming up from behind with a tire iron raised in his hands like a baseball bat.
"Robin!" Jason called, but it was too late. With a loud thump, the metal bar was swung into the middle of Damian's back, causing the kid to call out and fall to the ground. Jason yelled angrily and ran forward, punching the man who hit Damian hard enough to where he probably saw stars dotting the cloudy atmosphere. 
Jason made quick work with the others, no longer somewhat enjoying the fight and now just wanting it to end. Soon enough, Jason returned to where Damian laid on the ground, curled up and not making any moves to get up. 
Confusion settled in Jason's gut at the sight of it. He knew the kid got hit pretty hard, but not that hard… right?
"Robin?" Jason asked, kneeling down and bringing his hand out to shake his shoulders. However, the moment Jason touched Damian, the kid whimpered. 
"Don't-" Damian gasped, his voice laced with so much pain that Jason pulled his hand back like he’d just burned the kid. Damian didn't move after that, just took staccato breaths.
Okay, now Jason was concerned. He left Damian alone for the moment and moved to turn on the comms. Spinal injuries were never something to disregard or ignore, no matter how badly Jason didn't want to deal with Bruce at the moment. 
"Hood to Cave," he said, "we’ve got a downed Robin."
Nothing replied for a moment, but when the noise did start, it was chaos. Jason realized just as it was too late that he should have worded that a bit better. 
"What happened?!" Came the first voice. Dick's, shockingly enough. Didn't know he was in Gotham. Huh.
However, before he could answer, the grumbling voice of Bruce interrupted. "I'm on my way to your location, stay where you are."
“-is he okay? Is he bleeding?" Dick sounded close to hysterical. "Should we get the medbay ready- can I talk to him-?"
"Wing," Jason snapped, a headache beginning to form behind his eyes. "Someone got a lucky swing on his back. I think something's wrong with his spine, so yeah, medbay would probably be good."
"His spine?" Dick squeaked.
"Robin's armor is heavily padded and nearly bulletproof," Batman growled, and that headache Jason was talking about earlier was spreading toward his temples now. "A hit with the swinging force of a human shouldn't have done that kind of damage."
"Yeah, well, you tell that to the kid who hasn't moved from the ground since he went down," Jason snarled. Damian hadn't moved an inch since Jason started this practically redundant conversation. 
Silence fills the line; Jason, because there wasn't much more to say. Bruce, because he was single-mindedly making his way towards their location, probably with the Batmobile in tow. Dick, because… why was Dick so quiet? 
"Big bird?" 
A moment of silence. Then an exhale. "Jay, you remember Eduardo Flamingo? Back when I was Batman?" 
Something cold slithered into Jason's chest cavity. Not because the Flamingo was any kind of particularly horrible villain, but because the whole entire fiasco that took place that short few years ago was something he wasn't proud of. At the time, Jason honestly thought he was simply doing what needed to be done. Flamingo came to Gotham looking for a fight. He shattered Jason's helmet, almost got Scarlet killed, and…
And shot Damian five times, as close to point blank as you can get, right into his back. 
Jason's thoughts roared as Dick explained to Bruce what happened. At the time, he hardly even noticed Damian laying in a pool of his own blood. He was too busy getting arrested and worrying about where Scarlet ran off to. He remembered feeling a little bit of confusion seeing the kid a few months after, flipping around and fighting the same as always, but he didn't really care at the time. 
"After that… Talia took Damian and surgically inserted a new, artificial spine-"
How far gone was Jason all those years ago to have noticed? 
"Turned out Talia had engendered some sort of remote into his spine. She had Deathstroke control him and use him to try to kill me-"
Protecting children and innocent people. Hadn't that always been his thing? Why didn't Damian ever count as a child? He saw him in that bloody pool, yet all he did was brag to Dick about how he dumped a tractor load of rubble onto the Flamingo, like it was something to be proud of. 
"But we got it fixed. Decoded. I broke the machine they were using to control him too."
"Why is it hurting him like this now?" Jason asked, his voice oddly level. "If Talia made him a new spine, it should be in mint condition."
"Spinal injuries never go away, Hood," Batman said, and as much as Jason wanted to argue he also knew he really didn't have any high ground here. Not when the man who said that had his back broken by Bane. "What I'm wondering is why Nightwing never told us."
Jason could practically feel Dick bristle. And as much as Jason would love to listen to Dick yell at Bruce about how he's never noticed, Damian was beginning to try and shift. Little whimpers escaped his mouth, which was such an un-Damian sound that he almost couldn't believe he heard them. 
"Kid?" He asked, ignoring Dick snap back at Bruce in favor of checking on the young boy below him. 
"I'm fine," Damian hissed through clenched teeth. There were tears escaping the bottom parts of his mask. Jason wondered if he noticed. "Sometimes… sometimes it's like this."
Jason frowned. "Hey, try not to move too much, okay? Your old man is on his way-"
"I said I'm fine," Damian snapped. His eyes flickered up to Jason in a very pain laced glare. "My mother constructed my spine and inserted it inside me with technology beyond our time. It's strong and- hnn- durable. B-but sometimes it just..."
Jason's never heard Damian cry before. And while Damian wasn't necessarily crying now, he still sounded close to it. That must be testament to how agonizing a spinal wound could be. It's probably one of the most important parts of your body… so of course once it got damaged it would never be the same again. Even if the spine was completely replaced with something new and stronger. 
"What…" Jason tried, guilt gnawing at the back of his mind. He might not have shot Damian, but this might as well be his fault. Flamingo was his problem. Damian shouldn't have been involved. He swallowed. "What do you need me to do?"
Damian bit his lip, his face scrunching up into immediate uncertainty. Like he knew exactly what would make this all a little more bearable but he was too afraid to ask.
Well… ask Jason. Because everyone knew Jason wasn't the world's best older brother. Points for trying though, right?
Then, shocking Jason, Damian opened his mouth. "Could you… play with my hair?"
Of course. Dick was rubbing off on the little tyke. Jason should have expected that they'd find similar preferred ways to be comforted. Well, maybe it wasn't the whole hair thing, but the need to be touched gently. Softly. And with Damian's spine aching the way it was, Jason doubted there was any place in his body besides his scalp that didn't pulse with agony. 
"Sure," Jason replied, almost shocking himself. It was awkward, initially, placing his fingers into Damian's hair and running his digits though the stands. Though, when he saw Damian close his eyes and release a shaky, almost relaxed breath, he decided he wouldn't stop no matter what. 
Jason had been an awful big brother for so long. He could do this much right? Like… this was all technically his fault after all. 
Okay, now he felt really guilty. He gave Dick and Damian so much shit back then. Yeah, he wasn't in his right mind back then, and honestly now he could see why Dick worked so hard to get him in Arkham. He killed a lot of people and constantly fought with Dick. He was problematic to the highest extent. Dick saw that and made sure Jason would go somewhere he'd be safe from others and himself. At the time, he hated it. He hated being in the same place they would lock the Joker up at, or Two-Face, or Killer Croc. Even though Joker wasn't even there he could still hear his laughter while laying in his private cell. 
But Dick did make sure Arkham was up to standards. He was anal about it. Jason was safe, comfortable, fed, treated well by the guards. The horrors of the prison were all in his head. 
And how did Jason repay him? 
By letting his kid get shot in the back five times. 
Jason never said sorry about that, hadn't he? 
There was the sound of shrieking tires from behind, and soon enough the Batmobile came to a screeching stop. The drivers door practically shot open as Bruce ran out, dragging a backboard similar to the ones lifeguards and paramedics used with him. 
"Are you alright?" Bruce asked, and Damian opened his eyes for a moment, before shaking his head ever so slightly and squeezing his eyes shut again. 
Jason could feel Bruce turn his gaze toward him, but he kept his eyes on Damian. He had never seen Damian admit to pain and weakness like that before. 
This was his fault. 
"Let's get him back to the manor," Jason said, clearing his throat. 
Bruce nodded and leaned down to explain to Damian what they were about to do, and how much it was probably going to hurt. Getting Damian into a neck brace and onto the backboard was a struggle and a half, ending up with Damian openly crying while on the road back. 
And Jason hated it. Damian wasn't supposed to cry. 
By the time they made it to the Batcave and Alfred rushed on to assist Bruce with x-rays, Jason's regret was practically eating him alive. He stood back near the bat computer trying to convince himself that he didn't care as much as it felt like he did. He should go, right? Go back to his home-base and pretend he didn't see and learn what he did tonight?
He was in the middle of planning his escape when Dick came up to Jason. He was on crutches, his left foot covered in a heavy cast. So that was why he was not only on Gotham, but working the computers. Jason… didn't know.
"Hey," Dick greeted, smiling. "Thanks for calling Damian's injury in."
Jason nodded sharply, but said nothing. Dick sighed and hobbled closer and placed a hand on Jason's shoulder. His face melted into sympathy and Jason remembered that Dick was the biggest empath in the entire world, second most to Raven, an actual empath. 
"Neither of us blame you for what Flamingo or Talia did, Jason," he said, "I know I said some harsh stuff to you back then… but neither of us were in the right place, ya know? I'm sorry for that. I should have-"
"You did the best you could do," Jason replied, surprising himself. Jason cleared his throat and looked to the ground. "I deserved you yelling at me."
A moment of companionable silence passed, and soon Dick had Jason's shoulder a friendly squeeze then let go. "Good thing we're better now, huh? Learn from our mistakes."
Jason nodded, this ooey-gooey emotion talk becoming a little too much. Thankfully, Dick didn't push him any further or heaven forbid hug Jason. 
"C'mon," Dick said, his face going back to a bright smile, "you and I are going to go to the nearest Walgreens and get some heat pads for Damian. There's also a Redbox near where we're heading, so we can grab a couple movies." Dick jerked his head over at the exit of the cave, "I'll let you drive."
"Fine," Jason grumbled, stuffing his hands into his jacket and glaring. He'd have to get dressed quick, but his old bedroom should have something stuffed in there. Jason hardly spent the night here, but Bruce did have a knack for being prepared for the impossible. "And it's not like I'll let ya drive anyway. Your whole foot is broken. How'd you do that anyway?"
Dick immediately began to launch into an exciting story about half human half ostrich hybrids that tried to take over downtown Blüdhaven and honestly? Jason didn't listen past that because of course Dick broke his foot doing something that sounded completely fake. He looked towards the medbay before he left and saw Damian laying in a cot, still curled up but looking a little more relaxed now that he's on something soft and being worried over by both Bruce and Alfred. Jason was about to walk away, but stopped in his tracks when Damian caught his eye. Green eyes stared at Jason with an intensity that had Jason keep the gaze.
Then something even more rare than Damian crying happened. Damian's lips twitched into a slight, thankful smile. A smile… directed at him. A smile that said thank you and I forgive you and don't blame yourself. Jason had never really seen fully what Dick was talking about when he said at his core, Damian was a kid like any other. He’d only catched glimpses of it. 
Damian could smile huh? 
Huh.
Dick called his name and he was knocked out of his thoughts. Jason cleared his throat, nodded, then broke eye contact with the kid. He walked away before he could do something crazy, like hug him goodbye. That would be too out of character for the both of them… but… maybe someday.
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