#he taught her how to play bloody knuckles with knives

[penguuthegentoo]

Friiiiiiedrich! My wacko changeling mani

He’s a bit masochistic and doesn’t really have any good social skills but he’s cute and offers a lot of entertainment so atleast that

[hadtochangemyurlquick]

here’s 7.1k of Toni pining and Shelby and Toni being childhood friends and also far more character analysis of Rachel than I was expecting? also Marcus is real and I made him a gorgeous himbo. it’s based off that poem by @theycallmedizzy and you can find it here. lmk if you want a second chapter from shelby’s perspective, tho i literally just finished this one. like literally ten minute ago.

Mr. Williams finishes reading the poem and looks over his spectacles at the class. Yes, they’re spectacles, those kind of tiny thick ones that make his eyes too big because he’s much too old to be teaching.

It’s eight am on a Tuesday, Toni walked the three miles to school because she missed the bus only to walk into her shitty honors English class and hear the teacher reading a poem aloud to the class. Her poem. She’d sat down after a momentary pause and listened to him read the final damning stanza.

And then he looks at Toni.

He reads her essays right? What if he recognizes her writing voice? Is that a thing? Or maybe her handwriting or—

“Toni, I was just explaining to the class that whoever wrote this should submit it to the state literature festival,” Mr. Williams says, Toni almost sags against her chair. “I was hoping someone would come forward,” He turns back to the class, eyes hovering over Quinn and Monty, two of the more sensitive guys who sit in the back and ruin the curve for everyone. “But I’ll leave it on the board here,” he clacks it on with a magnet and Toni flinches, “and hopefully someone will come forward. Now onto today’s lesson.”

After class Martha goes up to the board and takes a picture of it, her eyes a little starry at the words and Toni grits her teeth.

“You have to admit it’s pretty,” Martha says. “Even you can’t deny that.”

“It’s dumb,” Toni says flatly, crossing her arms.

“Well I’m keeping it anyway, maybe someday someone will write a poem about me,” Martha says.

“How do you know it’s not about you?” Shelby asks coming out of nowhere and uninvited too. Toni glares at her, letting her open disdain shine through like sunshine through clouds after a gully washer.

“No guys notice me,” Martha informs Shelby sadly. “I bet Andrew wrote it for you.”

Shelby purses her lips and looks over the poem, “I doubt it. He’s more of a doer, I think. Besides, I’m sure that guys notice you, you went on a date with that boy Sam last month.”

Martha sighs and before she can launch into what a disaster that date was, Toni tightens her hands around her backpack.

“I’ll see you in science,” She tells Martha and manages to escape Shelby’s eyes burning at the back of her neck.

———

reasons not to kiss her

1.) this sort of love is not allowed. you are both too soft, and the world around you is all knives and chipped teeth

Toni had played about every sport she was allowed to growing up. Basketball was her favorite, but she loved beat it ball, the game she made up with the other kids in the neighborhood. It was basketball but without rules, devolving into fist fights within the first half. Nothing tasted better than her own bloody lip on a hot summer day. Not even the cool glass of lemonade Mrs. Blackburn always had ready when she ran all skinned knees to Martha’s telling her about how she beat guys two years older than her.

She got angry when she had to stop playing, moving to a different neighborhood. Apparently, Mrs. Blackburn had figured out that she wasn’t only getting her split lip from the older kids in the neighborhood.

The new foster parents were a little stricter, a little richer, and signed her up for youth soccer when she complained about how there was nothing to do without beat it ball.

Martha Blackburn would always be her person, but Toni didn’t expect to find her people so young. Dottie killed as goalie, and Becca’s sweetness made her defense all the better. But it was Shelby and Toni who were the dynamic duo. Toni had a never ending amount of energy as a midfielder and Shelby’s precision made her the perfect striker. It worked the same way every game, Becca would kick it to Toni, who got it to Shelby, who scored a goal. It got to the point that Becca didn’t even need to do much and the coach had to pull Toni aside to tell her to pass to the other girls too.

At the end of the season they sat together at the team party, wearing orange slice smiles. With sticky fingers they held hands and Toni kinda wondered how someone’s eyes could be so green.

Toni doesn’t remember why Shelby’s parents were so angry about them holding hands, but she knows Mr. Goodkind talked to her foster parents and Toni was off to a different home, in a different district, and she lost even Martha for a few months.

———

At lunch everyone’s talking about that fucking poem. Martha sent it around to the whole school and Leah is discussing its merits with Rachel and Nora. Even they don’t seem bored with the topic, though Nora is sure Quinn didn’t write it.

“It could be Monty,” Leah says. “I wouldn’t have thought he had an eye for this stuff.”

“I don’t think it’s Monty,” Rachel says. She looks at Nora, “C’mon, you know what I’m talking about, right?”

“What?” Nora asks.

“I mean it smells like Anna Akhmatova had a baby with Adrienne Rich,” Rachel says.

“Who had a baby with who?” Martha asks.

“Please,” Fatin says. “You’re not exactly the world’s leading expert on free form poetry.”

“Uh, I know when something’s written by a girl,” Rachel says. “I bet you fifty bucks some closet case wrote this.”

Everyone looks at Toni. “You caught me,” Toni deadpans.

“Rachel’s right,” Nora says. “A girl definitely wrote this. Toni, do you know anyone?”

Toni glares at her. “I’ll shake the lesbian phone tree and see what comes out.”

“Well, could it be Regan?” Martha asks. “Maybe she wants to—”

“It’s not fucking Regan,” Toni grabs her books and stalks out, kicking a chair randomly strewn around away as she did.

She hears Shelby sit down just as she leaves, “What’s got her madder than a baptized cat?” Shelby asks and Toni rolls her eyes.

———

2.) no one ever taught you how to love. your war paint and scarred hands could never hold her like she deserves

The worst of it was that Shelby was gentle. Her hands were warm and soft around Toni’s callouses, and there was a crinkle between her eyebrows as she focused on Toni’s hands. No, the worst of it was that Shelby didn’t let go of Toni’s hands when she finished, kept holding onto them as she met Toni’s eyes.

“Well?”

Toni swallowed hard, “I’m not gonna apologize.”

Shelby sighed, her thumb traced little circles around Toni’s hands. “I know today ain’t easy for you.” Toni scoffed and looked away. “But you know you were pickin' a fight. Andrew promised to leave you alone.”

Toni ripped her hands away and jumped from the bench of the locker room. “What the fuck do you know? You weren’t fucking there.”

Shelby’s calm only made Toni’s anger redder, “You ain’t denying it.”

“Why the fuck are you dating him? He’s a self-satisfied little asshole who just wants a little trophy girlfriend to—”

“Toni,” Shelby cut her off sharply and got to her feet, meeting Toni’s eyes.

“You’re not denying that either,” Toni spat.

She could’ve screamed at the hypocrisy. She wanted to scream. She wanted to pound her fists against the walls and bleed all over the bandages Shelby wrapped around her knuckles. She wanted to hurt, to make Shelby hurt. She wanted everyone to see and feel how hurt she was, and hurt them with that hurt. Finally level the playing field.

“Andrew is my business,” Shelby said. “Not yours.”

“He becomes my business when you—”

“When I what?” Shelby asked.

Toni looked at her hands, “Never mind.”

Shelby sighed, “Martha’s helping you move in today, right? Shel’ll be there the whole time?”

“Don’t pretend you give a shit.”

“Of course I care. The last time you lived with your mom you didn’t eat for a week.”

“I was five, not fifteen,” Toni said. “And seriously, stop pretending you give a shit.”

She shoulder checked Shelby as she walked out and winced at the sound of Shelby hitting the gym lockers. Her hands still sting where Andrew’s teeth had scrapped them.

———

Regan approaches Toni during science, her eyes serious. Martha straightens, and Toni does her best not to make eye contact.

“It’s not mine,” Regan says.

“Yeah duh,” Toni mutters.

Regan frowns, “I just—I didn’t want you to—”

“You made it perfectly clear what you want,” Toni says.

Regan sighs and leaves and Toni regrets it.

“Shelby thinks it’s Marcus,” Martha tells her. Toni blinks up at her and Martha nods. “She thinks he wrote it for me.”

“Martha, that kid is dumber than a box of rocks,” Toni says.

Martha furrows her brow, “Maybe he has hidden depths.”

“If you think it’s him ask him out,” Toni says.

“Shelby thinks it’s him,” Martha is quick to correct. “But he doesn’t even know who I am.”

Toni rolls her eyes. Marcus had been in love with Martha since the ninth grade. They had gotten placed as lab partners and he literally didn’t take his eyes off her the entire time. Every time there was a dance he would always look like he was about to say something, shoot his shot, when Martha would loudly proclaim she couldn’t wait to go with her friends.

Toni would’ve pulled the guy aside and told him to grow a pair, but a guy who’s not brave enough to go after what he wants wasn’t good enough for her Marty, not by a long shot.

“Rachel still thinks a girl wrote it,” Martha says.

“Maybe Rachel wrote it,” Toni mutters.

Martha’s eyes light up.

———

3.) no one has ever loved you this full surely you would drown in it all

Being a lifeguard was the worst. It was super boring, the pay was shit, and also Toni would probably get someone killed. Like, they pretended she was CPR certified but she absolutely had no idea how to do it. She went to some hour long course, slept through it, took a test that was just: should you kill people? And then they wrote some bullshit on some papers about a three week long set of classes.

But Shelby was tanned and golden looking and on their shifts they’d text back and forth about which kids they were betting on to win sharks and minnows. Tweenage boys in all their adolescent infancy would gaze open mouthed at Shelby and Toni alike but Shelby was the only one who let them down gently. Toni would ruin them for girls forever with something enough to cut through even the thickest skin.

On the fourth of July the pool paid for fireworks and Toni found a blanket and Shelby found her and they sat watching the reflections of the lights together. Shelby rested her head on Toni’s shoulder, all gentle, like she was afraid Toni would spook.

“I know this ain’t much of a holiday for you,” Shelby said. “But thank you for spending it with me.”

She had her hand on the blanket, splayed out like she was waiting for Toni to take it, there in front of everyone. Toni imagined a world in which she did.

———

“Yeah it’s not me,” Rachel says. “I wish I could write that good.”

Which is such bullshit because Toni knows Rachel could say well if she wanted to. Rachel’s weird inferiority complex about Nora pisses off Toni to no end. Nora’s the smart one, Rachel will be the first to say, and Rachel’s the athletic one. But Nora has a six minute mile and Rachel has perfect pitch so Toni hates them both.

“Maybe it’s Dot,” Toni suggests and Rachel, Nora, and Martha snicker.

Out of all of them, Martha’s the best driver, but they always end up in Rachel’s car after school anyway.

“Most of the school seems to think it’s by Andrew,” Nora says. Toni’s fists clench.

“Yeah,” Rachel rolls her eyes, “I’m sure he would love to take the credit. C’mon Toni, you don’t know any lesbians who could’ve written this?”

“You’re a lesbian too,” Toni says. “You don’t know any?”

“I don’t have a life outside of the pool,” Rachel says, “and none of them have picked up a book since Hop on Pop.”

“Regan says it wasn’t her,” Martha cuts in helpfully. “But maybe it’s another kid in theatre. Shelby says—”

“Oh my god,” Toni grits out. “What is everyone’s deal with her anyway? Why is everyone still obsessed with her? She’s just another basic Jesus bitch.”

The car goes quiet and Toni wishes she could melt into her seat cushion.

“I didn’t mean that,” Toni says.

“Except you did,” Martha snaps.

Toni winces.

“What’s your deal with her?” Rachel asks. “You guys were fine last year.”

“Quinn says there’s a poetry club,” Nora says. “Maybe it’s someone there?”

No one takes the bait and they don’t talk the rest of the way.

———

4.) she belongs in a museum, and you are merely here to gaze. look around you, all the signs scream ‘do not touch’

“Shelby?”

Toni grabbed the shoulder of the girl and pulled her away from Marcus. Shelby was bruised lips and ruined make up and Toni took her by the hand. Thank god Martha wasn’t here, thank god Andrew wasn’t here, thank god Marcus looked just as trashed.

“Toni?” Shelby sorta stumbled, her ankle twisting painfully on her heel and Toni steadied her.

Shelby could do a cartwheel in six inch heels.

“I’m gonna get you home, okay?” Toni called over the music.

Shelby didn’t really respond, just leant into Toni as she led her away and outside. The party had spilled into the backyard and front yard some, the cops probably already on their way, but everyone was too fucking hammered to notice them making their way out.

Shelby’s house was only about a twenty minute walk but it was cold and Toni was only wearing her basketball shorts and her mom’s jacket that she promptly put over Shelby’s shoulders.

“Are you still—” Shelby swallowed hard, “You’re still living with your mom?”

“Mostly with Martha,” Toni said.

“Martha’s great,” Shelby said. “She’s so pretty it makes my eyes hurt.”

“One of our finest,” Toni grunted as Shelby nearly fell on her heels again.

“She could be a model,” Shelby told her. “We should get waffle house.”

“Shelbs, we’re nowhere near a waffle house.”

“What was Becca’s order? At waffle house?”

Toni sighed, looping an arm around her. “I dunno.”

“Neither do I,” Shelby said.

“I’m sorry, Shelby,” Toni said.

Shelby shook her head and stopped right there, circling her arms around Toni and pressing her into a hug. Toni closed her eyes, holding her back as tightly as she dared.

“Oh, Shelby, I’m so fucking sorry.”

———

“Day two!” Mr. Williams calls. He taps the poem again, “I will investigate the handwriting if the poet doesn’t come forward by Friday. I know it’s someone in one of my classes.”

His eyes narrow as he takes them all in and his eyes don’t linger on Toni. Not even for a moment.

There’s a part of her that wants to march up to the front of the room and write her name down, make eye contact with everyone who never even considered her before. But no one expects shit from her, and even if he does go over the handwriting he won’t really be able to pin it on her. He might not even bother checking to see if it matches.

Toni tries not to jump when Marcus takes the seat in front of her during quant lit. It’s not like they have assigned seating but everyone sticks to the same seats anyway. Marcus won’t get shit for it though, perks of being the quarterback.

“So, listen,” he scratches the back of his head and Toni rolls her eyes at him. “I know we aren’t really friends but I—um.”

“Marcus,” Toni says.

“I wanna ask Martha out,” Marcus rushes out. “She’s like the nicest, smartest, coolest girl in the school and like her eyes are out of this world radical.” Radical? “And I would take her somewhere nice like Olive Garden. Or Cheesecake Factory? And pay for it, and open all the doors for her, and I’d carry her books to class—”

“On your date? This is happening during school?” Toni asks.

His eyebrows furrow as he tries to connect the dots. Football players.

“Oh no! I meant like, after, if she wants me to,” He says. “Can I?”

“Can you what?”

“Can I ask her out?”

Toni blinks at him. “What?”

“My buddy said if you want to get with a girl you get close to the best friend first, and I figured I’d ask you for your blessing because that’s what they do in old fashioned stuff right?” He bounces up in down in his seat. “Can I? Or like, do you wanna give me your blessing?”

She feels like she’s having an aneurysm.

Listen, Marcus having feelings for Martha is one thing. Everyone on the planet who’s ever met Martha falls a little in love with her. That’s kinda just how she operates. Toni narrowly avoided that pitfall by being lucky enough to know her since she was five, but it was a tough time. But Marcus was never gonna act on it. Marcus can’t—he’s the quarterback.

It’s basic math, Marcus is a six foot five football player with shoulders wide enough to bench press the Subaru Forrester Toni’s legally required to buy when she turns thirty-two. He’s got that all American boy smile that shows of perfectly white teeth, and dark hair that sweeps in front of his eyes. His face looks like it was sculpted out of marble, like literally he looks like some sort of roman god, except if that roman god volunteered at the humane society on the weekends and called his mom Mami.

Martha is a res girl who’s best friend is the dyke with anger issues. And like yeah, she’s stupid pretty, but Marcus has exclusively dated varsity cheerleaders since the seventh grade.

So yeah, even if Marcus may have feelings for Marty, everyone fucking does, and there’s a host of reasons why she doesn’t have a date to every dance and a new guy every week. And most of them are the cliche high school movie hierarchy sort.

“It’s really none of my business, man,” she says.

“Dude, it’s totally your business,” Marcus says. He leans closer, “you two are like sisters right? What do I gotta do to prove I’m not gonna hurt her? I’ll do your math homework for a month, no two months.”

A thought occurs to Toni and it’s a terrible one. But when has that ever stopped her?

“You’re in my honors English class right?”

Marcus’s face screws in, “Uh, yeah. But I don’t think you want me doing your homework in there, I’m like totally failing.”

“I have a better idea.”

———

5.) she touches you like youre fragile, and if you break you wont be able put yourself together again

Dot was asleep which was Toni’s first indication that something was deeply wrong. The second was that Shelby wasn’t. She was definitely trying her darnedest, but Toni could tell she was awake. Awake in her arms.

Toni shifted, just enough to let Shelby know she was awake too. The movie was some horror flick, something dumb and flashy and almost muted it was so quiet. It was the only thing rated R that they could all agree on. Dot’s house was the only place they were allowed to watch anything rated R when they were still thirteen, so it was all they watched there.

She felt Shelby shift up, so her head rested on Toni’s chest, shifted until her lips met Toni’s clavicle.

Toni wondered if she’d die.

Shelby went up instead of down, pressing kisses up the length of Toni’s neck, soft barely there things that made Toni’s breath catch as she watched Dot snore on the couch next to them.

Toni’s hands moved to the inside of Shelby’s thighs and they stared there, tracing delicate patterns that only made Shelby curl closer.

“I think you’re probably the most beautiful girl I ever saw,” Shelby whispered.

“I—”

“I’m not done.”

Toni’s mouth clamped shut.

“I think about you all the time,” Shelby whispered. “Even when I—”

“Shelby,” Toni warned. Shelby pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“You’re right,” Shelby said.

Neither of them slept that night.

———

Toni walks into class three minutes late with Mr. Williams, and takes her seat with a sulk.

“He still won’t let me redo that paper,” Toni mutters to Martha who’s eyes are wide.

“Toni, Marcus just—” She nods her head at the poem where Mr. Williams is studying it too.

“Marcus Gonzales?” Mr. Williams asks.

Marcus gets to his feet.

“You wrote this?”

“Yessir.”

“This poem right here?”

“Yessir.”

Mr. Williams blinks and takes off his spectacles, setting them down on the desk. “We’ll talk after class. I should hope everyone has a copy of—”

“I wrote it for Martha,” Marcus doesn’t sit down and the entire class stares at him.

“—Franny and Zooey and I would like you all to turn to page 52. Begin by annotating—”

“Martha, can I take you out on a date?” Marcus asks.

“—this first section, and on to page 64. Remember what Seymour serves as in—”

Martha blushes hard and glances at Toni who smiles before she looks back at Marcus in all his golden boy 6’5” glory.

“Um, okay,” she mutters out and he grins.

“Cool.” Marcus finally sits and gives Toni a thumbs up. She rolls her eyes.

“—this story and compare that to his roles in the other parts of the work we’ve read.”

“I told you it was for you, girl,” Shelby says on Martha’s other side. “People always have a way of surprising you.”

———

6.) she is all bubblegum skies and chapped stick kisses, and you cannot watch the love run out of another persons eyes

They were all a little bit slap happy by the end of the night. A little bit drunk, a little bit high, and laughing far too hard at one another.

“I’m scared,” Shelby told them, still grinning wider than any pageant smile.

“Girl, you picked dare,” Fatin said.

“I did,” Shelby bit her lip. “But all y’all dared Leah to do was finish the vodka.”

“That was—that was bad vodka,” Leah slurred from her position on Dot’s lap.

“But now we’re out of vodka,” Martha sang. “You picked dare.”

“I’ll go with you,” Toni got to her feet, surprised when they were more steady than she assumed they’d be. “Two chairs right?”

“Alright,” Shelby said. “And you’ll hold my hand?”

“Sure princess,” Toni rolled her eyes.

It was an office supply place, probably. The parking lot had this killer decline, and it was one of those spring nights where nothing could really ruin anything. Not forever.

The rolling chairs were kinda gross, left there but not yet picked up by the garbage men. They had to do a special pickup for that, which costed extra. No one in the office had done it for the weeks the girls had been going there after parties.

“Be careful,” Nora urged.

“Don’t fall,” Rachel suggested.

“Hold on, I’m not recording yet,” Fatin said. “Okay now go.”

They pushed off in their rolling chairs, holding hands, and sped down the decline laughing as they barely managed to hold on and steer at the same time.

Toni went flying as she bumped into a patch of grass and for some reason, Shelby went flying with her, landing on top. Toni grunted, but she wasn’t in pain, not really.

They met eyes.

“Sorry,” Shelby said. She didn’t sound sorry.

“You okay?” Toni asked.

Shelby smiled, this real soft thing, Toni wondered what it’d taste like.

“Fuck yeah bitches! I’m so putting that on snapchat!” Fatin screamed and Shelby pulled away, turning white.

“God if this is you in in freshman year, I’m terrified of you as a senior,” Toni called back.

Shelby’s hand slipped out of her’s and Toni tried very very hard not to overthink it.

———

“So I’ve been thinking,” Leah said. Toni took her gym bag out of her locker, pretty much the only thing she kept in there.

“Oh no.”

“Rachel was right about that poem being written by a girl,” Leah continued. “Which meant Marcus lied. And Marcus would never do that unless someone gave him permission to take credit. And since Marcus lied so he could ask Martha out that means the person who wrote the poem wanted Martha to be happy.”

Toni swallowed hard and tried not to fumble with the lock, stumbling with it.

“Toni,” Leah walked over to her. “You need to face the facts: Shelby’s into you.”

Toni blinked, “What?”

“She wrote that whole poem for you, don’t tell me you don’t see it. It’s about you!”

“She—” Toni stopped and furrowed her brow, finally making eye contact with Leah, “You think she wrote that poem for me?”

Leah nodded, “And she let Marcus take the credit. Listen, I know I’m right. I’ve been thinking about it for ages. Whatever fight the two of you had—you need to get over it. She’s into you, Toni. She’s been into you.”

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” Toni told her. “Seriously, fuck you Leah and fuck off. This is none of your fucking business.”

“You aren’t denying it,” Leah crowed. “Shelby likes you.”

“No she fucking doesn’t!” Toni spat at her. “She fucking hates me! She didn’t write that poem Marcus did! For Martha!”

Leah’s brow furrowed, “But… but you wanted her to. Didn’t you?”

Toni looked away.

“Shelby’s actually straight, isn’t she?” Leah asked. “Fuck Toni.”

“I’m happy for Martha,” Toni said, and marched away.

———

7.) if you jump, she might catch you, and then youd have to watch as she tumbled through the dark

“What if we ran away?” Shelby asked, which was Toni’s third indication that the punch was spiked.

The first two were her arms wrapped around Toni’s waist, swaying in the soft breeze to the distant music of Junior prom.

“Oh yeah?” Toni asked. “Where’d we go?”

“Peru,” Shelby said. “Or LA, or New York or—” Shelby sort of trailed off, losing her thought halfway through it.

“Our parents,” Toni pointed out. She’d moved in with Martha a few months ago but her mom had taken it as a wakeup call, promising to get her shit back together as soon as she could. Toni couldn’t help but believe her, even if it put her in stasis.

“Right,” Shelby sounded cold, “Our parents.”

“Are things worse with them?” Toni asked.

“No,” Shelby said. “The same, really. They’ve lightened up since—since Becca. Have you heard from your mom?”

“Every week or so,” Toni said. “And if you ever need a break you know—“

“Martha is happy to have me,” Shelby finished.

Toni smiled and pulled away enough to meet Shelby’s eyes, her hands slid from behind Shelby’s neck to either side.

“Did I tell you you look beautiful tonight?” Toni asked.

“You did,” Shelby said.

“Can I say it again?”

“You can.”

“You look beautiful tonight.” Shelby closed her eyes and Toni tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re gonna get out, you know that right?”

Shelby nodded, leaning into Toni’s hand.

Later, Toni will learn that was one of two lies Shelby told that night.

———

Martha gets home at 11:30, exactly when Marcus promised, and Toni smiles as her sister collapses backwards into her bed.

“Toni,” she actually giggles, giggles like a little school girl. “It was amazing.”

“Where’d you go?” Toni asks.

“Olive Garden, I think he was trying to win points with you,” Martha says.

“As he should,” Toni nods.

“He was the perfect gentleman,” Martha swoons. She rolls onto her stomach and looks at Toni and oh god, Toni knows that look. “He did tell me something about you, though.”

“Oh yeah? How I’m better in quant lit than him?” Toni asks.

“He told me you wrote the poem,” she says.

Toni looks away, “Okay, and?”

“You told me you were over Regan,” Martha says.

“It’s complicated,” Toni decides. “And whatever. I wrote it awhile ago anyway.”

“Have you thought about submitting it to that contest Mr. Williams was talking about?” Martha asks.

“Can we go back to talking about your date with Prince Charming?” Toni says. Martha acquiesces, she’s too damn giddy to do anything else.

———

8.) her gaze is too gentle. you will not be the one to tell her that not everything can be fixed with a smile

“Toni,” Dot began, and Toni could tell she was looking at her. “Toni, is Shelby—is she gay?”

Toni snickered, “Dot, Shelby is possibly the biggest straight girl in our school. Maybe our state. She’d sooner give herself a buzzcut than she would ever even kiss a girl."

“Andrew said Shelby got a job as a counselor at this church camp—Guiding Light—in Plano,” Dot said. “I wanted to find the address so I could write to her and it’s a conversion camp.”

The breath left Toni’s body.

“What?”

“And I got to thinking,” Dot said. “About what a mess she was after Becca died this year. Ignoring us, going to all those parties, signing up for a crazy number of pageants. Hell, it was only once you two started talking that she talked to us again.”

“Stop it, Dot.”

“Toni is Shelby gay?”

“Dot,” Toni said.

“Because if she’s gay, if she’s not there as a camp counselor—Toni, did you know about this?”

“Of course not! Jesus!” Toni said. She jumped to her feet and started to pace, “Jesus Christ. Oh my god.”

“Toni is Shelby gay?”

Toni looked at Dot and Dot sighed, her entire body sagging.

“What do we do?” Toni asked.

Dot, her solid, steady, friend since fucking youth soccer was silent.

“Dot, what do we do?”

“Dot, what the fuck do we do?”

———

Shelby finds her before school, Toni smoking like she hasn’t since ninth grade when Bernice gave her a stern lecture about lung cancer. It made Toni cry, actually. Not because it was so stern but because Martha and Toni had been separated for three years and Bernice still cared enough to get angry with her. She promised then and there to stop, and each drag she took now makes her feel like she’s committing treason.

“Smokin’ kills,” Shelby tells her, like they didn’t all go to Dot’s dad’s funeral last year.

Toni takes another drag, just to watch Shelby roll her eyes.

“How’d Martha’s date go last night?” Shelby asks.

Toni glares, “Seriously? You avoid me all year and now you’re asking about Martha’s date?” Shelby looks away. “It went fine. Whatever.”

“I just—I was surprised Marcus wrote that poem is all.”

“You literally said multiple times you thought it was him,” Toni says.

“I know, I know but—”

“Still holding out hope for Andrew?” Toni sneers. “Marcus may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but he cares about Martha. Even a fucking idiot could write a half decent poem if they had someone worth writing about.”

Shelby meets her eyes and Toni’s breath catches.

“Know a lot about poetry, Toni?”

Fuck fuck fuck.

Toni flicks the only half used cigarette away. “I have to go to class,” She says, aware it’s just about the worst thing she can do.

Shelby doesn’t even need the last word, she’s aware she’s already won.  

———

9.) she is so good. she is so good, and you cannot ruin one more good thing

It hadn’t been the first time Toni found her mom overdosed on the couch, but it’d been the most terrifying. Toni had waited in the school parking lot for a pick up for twenty minutes before Shelby had offered her a ride.

When they trooped inside, after having to use the key Tamera kept tucked away in a loose brick, her mom had been passed out on the couch. And the stupid thing had been that Toni had known her mom hadn’t been doing great. Like she’d known Tamera had lost her job, and was close to losing the car, that the pain in her back had been getting worse again from stress. Toni had known that.

But for some stupid, naive reason, Toni had never thought she’d pull this, go back to who she was.

Her tolerance was low, the doctors had told her, because she’d been clean for so long. She hadn’t realized it and had taken more than she could handle.

Shelby had taken the three of them to the hospital, helped carry Toni’s drooling mother into the ER, and held Toni’s hand until the other girls showed up, who she texted to come.

Shelby had been there when the police and social services came to talk to her about going back into foster care. Shelby had never left her side.

Toni couldn’t help but contrast that to the Shelby she saw now. The Shelby who showed up for senior year was barely christian, barely anything, just sort of blank and empty and waiting to grow up so she could have daughters that'd also wait to grow up so that they could have daughters that’d also wait to grow up so that they could have daughters that’d also

Shelby didn’t even look at her, for the first week of senior year she didn’t even look at Toni. She talked with Martha in that faux friendly way, she passed off on lunch invitations to do school work and Toni felt like she was going insane.

Sometimes she would just stare at the back of Shelby’s head in English class, writing whatever gibberish came to mind, and not listening to Mr. Williams at all. Just stare, for forty-five minutes, at a girl who wouldn’t even make eye contact, Toni’s pencil moving rapidly as she barely even glanced at the words her hands produced.

On the last day of the semester Toni finally looked away and came to two realizations:

a. Her mother was never getting better. Not really. b. Toni had written P E R U over forty times in her notebook.

As quietly as she could she tore the page out, and maybe about fifteen pages behind it, filled with similar drivel and recycled them at the end of class.

When the next semester started the seats were changed and something she’d written that she barely remembered was on the board.

Her mother was still in rehab.

———

Toni watches Marcus carry Martha’s backpack to class and watches as Martha giggles at him, argues with him. She is literally so happy it makes Toni’s heart burst.

“Shelby’s quite the matchmaker, huh?” Fatin asks.

Toni looks at her.

“Leah told me,” Fatin explains.

Toni rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what I said too,” Fatin says. “Leah’s good at noticing things but putting the pieces together is not her strong suit. So I called Dorothy.”

This makes Toni’s shoulders tense and Fatin wraps an arm around them.

“Dorothy didn’t want to talk but what she didn’t say was enough.” Fatin sighs, “I’m all for a little drama but this is cutting into my me time.”

“What going from twenty-four hours a day to twenty-three and a half?” Toni asks.

“God forbid,” Fatin nods sagely. “I didn’t know you could write.”

“I can’t.”

“Clearly not.”

Toni slips out from under her arm, and follows Martha into class. Mr. Williams glares as she comes in and Toni realizes if Marcus came clean to Martha he definitely came clean to Mr. Williams. At least the poem is off the board.

When he passes out papers from a recent essay her’s has a “see me after class” sticker that makes Toni slide down in her seat. Martha doesn’t even notice enough to give her an odd look because she and Shelby are yukking it up about the quarterback.

When everyone files out she hangs back and he looks at her, over his spectacles.

“I’m disappointed,” he says at last.

Toni scoffs.

“You write essays based off spark notes, you never participate, and half the time you don’t even do the homework. But you write this.” He slides the crumpled paper over his desk, her poem shining back at her. “So all I can conclude is that you’re lazy.”

Yeah, obviously.

“Why did you have Marcus tell everyone he wrote it?” Mr. Williams asks.

“So he could ask out Martha.”

“He didn’t need to have written the poem to do that,” Mr. Williams says.

“Can I go?” Toni asks.

“I want to submit this poem to a contest, I want you to start trying in this class, and this,” he hands her a slip of paper with about twenty sets of numbers on it, “is a list of Dickinson poems I want you to read by next week. Pick at least three to write me at least a page about. Single spaced.”

“What?” Toni asks, “You can’t make me do that.”

“I know half the kids in this class write off spark notes, I can easily have them all—including you—fail. So yes, yes I can actually.” He takes off his spectacles and Toni glares at him. “You’re a smart kid, Toni. You’ve got a talent for this.”

Toni shakes her head, “I’m a one hit wonder.”

“You know Britney Spears said the same thing after Baby One More Time.”

“That’s not true,” Toni says.

“Yeah,” Mr. Williams says. “Because she kept working at it.”

And Toni takes the slip of paper with the numbers on it, and marches to her next class and he watches her the whole way, not bothering to put on his stupid spectacles.

———

10.) you will not watch her crumble under the weight of your sins. she is too light, too breathless to be caught up in the dizziness of your heart

Dot didn’t invite them all to the funeral but they came anyway, even Shelby who Toni knew had been waffling back and forth.

Some of his army friends showed up, a doctor or two, and Mateo—the hot nurse Dot steadily ignored. It was a small and quiet service, and the seven of them sat towards the back, holding steady for her.

There was too much on Dot’s shoulders, there always had been, but she didn’t look any freer now that the burden was lifted. She just looked scared, small, and sad.

Toni couldn’t help but wonder if that was what she’d look like, if she got the call about her mom. It was a terribly selfish thought but who could blame her?

Shelby’s hands interlocked with hers, in broad daylight, and stayed there for the entire day. When Toni met her eyes she saw pure terror reflected back at her.

God, were they really only seventeen?

———

Rachel is complaining at lunch about owing Nora five bucks, how she was so sure some closet case wrote the poem but it’s no surprise Nora got it right.

Fatin and Leah don’t contribute and Martha probably wouldn’t have either except she was eating lunch with Marcus, they had found their own little table and were smiling at one another.

“They’re certainly cute together,” Shelby says, glancing back at Martha and Marcus.

“I say it’s weird they have the same name,” Rachel says.

“Says the girl who dated a guy named Raymond,” Nora says.

Rachel throws a straw wrapper at him, “That was a phase and you know it.”

“Marcus is sweet,” Shelby says. “If anyone deserves someone sweet it’s Martha.”

“Don’t you think he’s a little,” Leah trailed off and they all looked at her. “You know a little…”

“Spit it out, Leah,” Rachel says.

“Like the porch lights on but no one’s home?” Leah says.

“Martha is smart enough for the both of them,” Toni says. “And thank god because I was sick of doing his homework in quant lit.”

“That’s literally the easiest math class there is,” Fatin says and Toni shrugs.

“What’s that?” Shelby asks, pointing at the yellow slip sticking out of Toni’s binder.

“Some extra credit stuff, from Williams. Apparently I’m not doing so hot in that class,” Toni says.

Rachel leans way over from the other end of the table. “What is that, Dickinson?”

“It’s a list of numbers,” Shelby says. “Why would it be Dickinson?”

“All of Dickinson’s poems were numbered. It was only after she died that other people named them,” Nora says.

“And Nora said it so you know it’s true,” Rachel smirks.

“Join the fucking club,” Dot says to Toni. “I don’t know why y’all didn’t take non-honors English twelve with me. We just sit around and talk about whatever football game was on the most recently.”

“Well I’ve never liked football so.” Toni gets up, “I’ve gotta talk to my science teacher. I’ll see you guys after school.”

“I’ll go with you,” Shelby smiles and Toni clenches her jaw. “Ms. Roberts said I needed to rework my psych paper.”

“See you guys,” Rachel says and as they leave she’s arguing with Dot about why football is stupid and Toni can feel Fatin’s eyes on her all the way out.

———

reasons to kiss her

1.) she loves you, and her eyes are closed, and didnt your mother ever tell you not to leave a good thing waiting

Toni hated the magnet program kids at her middle school. Like everyone not in their cluster she found them annoying, rich, and privileged as fuck. They only hung out with each other and it was clear they’d never give—

———

“Toni?”

The stair well is empty, it’s the short cut through the language hallway and no one goes there during lunch.

Toni is working hard on ignoring Shelby but is forced to turn around when Shelby stops halfway up.

“Ms. Roberts doesn’t need me to rework my psych paper.”

Toni stares at her.

Shelby takes a step up, one step closer to Toni.

“I had hoped maybe you wrote it for Regan,” Shelby says.

“No such luck,” Toni croaks out.

“That’s a lot of reasons not to kiss someone,” Shelby says. “You’d think if you really shouldn’t kiss someone you’d only need the one.” She takes another step up, until they’re only separated by a few inches.

“I guess,” Toni says.

“Are you really gonna keep me waiting?” Shelby says.

Toni blinks, “You mean you still—”

“I have to do everything myself,” Shelby says.

She kisses her.

[vln-vibes]

Unwanted, Unreliable, Unstoppable (2)

Holy shit this did better than expected.

Summary: When one of their own gets harmed by the one who should have protected them most, how will the Team take it? Not lying down thats for sure!

Tags: @abrx2002 @bigpicklebananatree  @jardimazul  @lozzybowe 

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When Dick Grayson became Bruce Wayne’s ward that fateful night he hadn’t known what to expect.

Of course he had heard of the Waynes while on his travels with Haly’s Circus, they were probably part of the Top Ten Richest families in the world if he had to guess. Though no one really knew much about the lone Wayne, Bruce, other than the fact that he was an airheaded philanthropist party-goer. Everyone would pretty much be surprised if he hadn’t just wasted away his family’s money by the time he was in his mid 20s.

He never thought that his new guardian would be doing things like this.

“So….You fight crime dressed as a bat?” Dick found himself asking as he looked around the “Batcave”, as he’d been mentally calling it when Batman started talking about hideouts.

“Something like that”

Dick hadn’t thought much of the training Bruce made him undergo when he said he agreed to take him along to defeat Tony Zucco. He thought it as just regular training like he had done before, granted it was a lot of how to redirect knives back to the enemies, avoiding gunshots, dismantling or disarming guns, sticking to the shadows and how to throw proper kicks and punches.

Was it strange that he had not heard of Batman when people actively talked about heroes like Superman or Red Tornado or Wonder Woman, well no. After all Bruce said he did more detective work, stuck to Gotham and was ‘just’ human.

He hadn’t thought much of it, he needed something to get his frustrations out.

When they took down all of the goons and had Zucco tied up Robin didn’t know how to feel.

“Do what you want with him” Batman had told him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Let it all out; your fear, anger, sadness, let it all out on the man who caused this”

Dick never thought of himself as a bad person even as he began to beat Zucco bloody with his armored fists.

Death would have been too painless for a man like him.

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“Ugh just look at her” Alya grumbled.

In front of them was Kagami talking to a rather attractive teen with rich tanned skin and piercing emerald eyes. Neither she nor any of her friends had any idea who he was and she only got close enough to hear the tail end of their conversation.

“... Exhibition match is going to be the most enjoyable challenge since first dueling with Adrien” she said in her normal stoic voice. The boy seemed to not notice or care as he just nodded along with her.

“Yes, my brother has insisted he come and watch as well. I reckon your mother will also want to?”

“Oh Alya, I just don’t think Kagami is good for Adrien” Lila cried out, snapping Alya from her stewing anger, the girl instinctively hugging her friend in comfort.

“Ever since she’s joined our school, he’s done nothing short of physically lashing out on his father. He even said that if we don’t stop bothering his Kagami that he’ll make me pay!”

“That𑁋That guy is gonna see what it means to mess with my BFF!”

“O-Oh but don’t blame Adrien… after all it was Kagami who started this nonsensical feud within the class as well”

Alya never saw the smirk grow on Lila’s face as everything was going to plan.

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“You shall not make fools of the Tsurugi. We Are Perfection”

Kagami elected to stay quiet as her mother continued to monologue, as though Kagami hadn’t heard the same conversation play out ever since she could remember.

During the sessions she had with Dr. Quinzel, Harley Quinn the psychologist had told her she preferred to go by outside of the office, she had come to realize that what her mother was doing to her was not alright. Her mother continued to enforce her ideals onto Kagami, as though she were trying to live vicariously through her. Kagami couldn’t fathom why; her mother was trained by her grandfather, a kendo Hachi-Dan, all her life and was already a world renowned and record holding fencer… So what did she want out of her? Why was it so important for Kagami to be seen as superior to all others?

“Show him no mercy, that he is nothing against a Tsurugi '' her mother finished much to Kagami’s relief.

“Mother, you are aware this is merely a friendly exhibition match, correct?”

Smack

Oh, Kagami had forgotten who she was talking to; she was not in Gotham, hanging out with her friends or training with the Bats or even talking to Dr.Quinzel or Dr.Isley.

She was in Paris where her mother and Hawkmoth were; Where both her civilian and hero self had unrealistic expectations for her.

The current sting on her leg reminded her of that fact.

“Watch your tongue you insolent child. Now go before you prove to disappoint me further”

“Yes, mother” Kagami gritted out, trying the breathing exercise Luka had taught her as she walked up to the field of play, a mat having been laid out to indicate all the boundaries.

“Are you ready, dragon girl?” Damian questioned, walking back from where Richard, Dick he had insisted, stood alongside her friends. She was too distracted to realize he had an alarmed and analytical look towards her and her mother. 

“Only if you are, Chīsai tori-chan”

The two made their way to their positions, M.D'Argencourt waiting for them in the middle before starting the match.

"En garde! Prêts? Allez!"

Kagami had been using her anger to lash out on Damian, some may call it unfair but she looked to think it was a good use of her pent up energy.

“Point to Miss Tsurugi”

“Oh I thought you were better than that?” she smirked underneath her mask. She couldn’t see his expression but she just assumed he rolled his eyes or scowled.

“You merely caught me off guard”

Kagami felt herself smile as she heard her friends cheer for her, Damian shaking his head before going back to their original position.

She was not expecting the events of the day from that moment, she hadn’t realized and would not want to hear her birthgiver’s explanation after that day.

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“Unbelievable!” Robin cried out in frustration, next to him Speedy looked like he was ready to punch anybody who’d stand too close to him.

“Sorry, uh Robin” the ginger speedster looked flustered.

“It’s just too dangerous for people like you to be involved with us” the new ‘hero’, Miss Martian, they recalled, said apologetically. “Your physiology is too susceptible to injury, it isn’t like our own”

“You think we want to be part of your stupid daycare club” Speedy laughed harshly, “We just saved your sorry asses because we were around, because you’re on our turf”

“And you still want to call us fragile and weak? You’re just as underwhelming as they said you’d be” Robin snapped, frustrated at the continued degradement from Metas and the Justice League. 

He remembered when he first met Speedy and the League, Batman having been sent a request to help with some world ending thing; definitely above their pay rate but Batman also didn’t trust them to get it done so they agreed.

He remembers working his ass off to make sure these people made it out alive, live to see another day, and help defeat the big bad. Then the comments came rolling;

“Isn’t he too young? Why did we have to call in the human? Is the Bat insane? It's bad enough that we got the man involved, now we have to deal with his kid too? We could handle it without them. Now we have to play babysitter for the humans”

He understood why the Batman didn’t even stand working with the League after that.

“We-We were here by League orders!” Miss Martian cried in outrage.

“Orders to spy on us” Speedy sarcastically remarked as the ‘Young Justice’ flinched “You lot really think you were that slick?”

“Whatever the hell it is they were supposed to do is over” Robin nearly growled out, batarangs at hand, “They’re officially persona non grata”

“You can’t just do whatever you please” Wondergirl began “The League just wishes to know if your mentors are up to any… questionable activity”

“Shitty excuse for shitty behavior” Speedy responded, clearly getting on the nerves of the Young Justice.

“Just let us do our job and we’ll be on our way” Cyborg tried placating though the duo was not impressed.

“Or we can just kick your asses and send you crying back to your bosses” Speedy took out his quiver and pointed straight at them, the group divided between offended and surprised.

“We do not need to result in such behavior, we mean no harm” Starfire tried getting in the middle, only to be pushed back by Kid Flash and Miss Martian. Aqualad seemingly about to do the same but realising it was a fruitless endeavor and just got in a fighting stance.

“You don’t even believe that princess” Robin felt his eyes rolling, the Young Justice tense considering Starfire being princess of another planet was supposed to be a secret.

“You- You shouldn’t know that! See, this only proves what Superman feared! That the Batman has gone rogue!” Miss Martian said in a near panic.

“What do you mean by go rogue; We’re not even part of the League!” Dick was getting real tired of these pretentious metas already. From the corner of his eyes he could see two shadows waiting for their signals and staying in position.

Dick didn’t think of himself as a bad person but this Young Justice really had all of this coming.

“Young Justice, action!”

And really he was sure he could come up with better names than them.

At the end Dick and Roy kept their word, the Young Justice scattered all around them in various states of consciousness on a Central City rooftop. Kid Flash groaned as he looked at their ‘fragile’ assailants, only to see two new figures with them, a blonde girl with an arrow pointed at Miss Martian, and a shorter boy wearing Robin’s costume that just electrocuted Wonder Girl with glorified knuckle busters.

“Oh and Wally,” the speedsters heart began to beat faster as he looked at the cold smile on Robin, ex-Robin?, now wearing a black and blue bodysuit….when did he change? “Tell Superman I’ll be using the name Nightwing from now on”

Nightwing did not think he was a bad person as he, the new Arsenal, Tigress and the new Robin dumped the unconscious bodies of the Young Justice back into their ship, sending it on autopilot after typing in the ‘secret coordinates’ for Mount Justice.

The Justice League would understand loud and clear that they would no longer be expecting help from the Bats or Arrows at a moment's notice or preferably ever from now on.

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“Umm are you Mmd. Tsurugi?” Tomoe Tsurugi turned, indicating her attention was caught by the young lady next to her. She sounded vaguely familiar but they said it was easier to recognize someone by their face than by their voice; she wouldn’t know.

“Who are you to ask?” she responded curtly, wanting to refocus on the match her prodigy and some American boy were engaging in. From what M.D'Argencourt had told her, his name was Damian, a prospective transfer student from America, who wished to check out the school’s fencing team. D’Argencourt had insisted that the boy was one of the best he’d seen, on par with her own prodigy. How could some average boy be on par with her own prodigy of the Tsurugi name?

It simply would not do.

Thus they had arranged this exhibition match, to show just how leagues above the Tsurugi were from this common boy.

“ My name is Lila Rossi, a classmate of your daughter and model, I work for Gabriel Agreste” the girl’s self-praising was not missed by Tomoe but she had ignored it for now, it would be best to quickly get to the point lest she miss a second of the match.

"En garde! Prêts? Allez!"

“I’ve heard of you from M. Agreste. What is your business with me?” Tomoe was getting quickly irritated, as her own prodigy had taken longer this round; the rapid movements of the sabres, swishing in the air and clashing into one another, both opponent’s feet moving across the mat in quick and small intervals.

“ I know I’m not supposed to say things without letting M. Agreste know first but,” she starts to tear up, at least Tomoe could hear that from the hiccuping of her voice. “Your daughter has been influencing Adrien to rebel against his father”.

Her prodigy did what?

“I overheard them talking about how the two planned to help each rebel against M. Agreste and you. She said she’d throw the match in order to disgrace you”

Tomoe had trained Kagami better than that! There was no way the insolent child would be so foolish as to𑁋

“ Point to Mister Damian”

She began to metaphorically see red as they called for the final round of their little exhibition match. Kagami was made to perfection; this should have already been a settled deal instead of dragging out for almost five minutes now. Kagami better not disappoint her in the final match lest she have to discipline the girl.

“ I know this is an inopportune time to inform you of this but I fear of what else she’ll do and what she’ll make Adrien do if she keeps this up… With such influential families it would be dishonorable to let this continue further”

Tomoe was so deep in her head that she missed the rapid footsteps running across the mat or the sound of liquid falling on it.

"Final round. En garde! Prêts? Allez!"

The match had lasted just as long as the last, almost using up the full three minutes. She could hear the two make their way onto Kagami’s side of the mat when Tomoe realized that she was disgracing the Tsurugi name on purpose.

The child slipped backwards, she could already hear the announcement before D’Argencourt could.

“Point to Mister Damian. Match goes to Damian”

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“Again” 

Dick took out his escrima sticks once, panting and sweating profusely but did as his instructor told. He felt himself repeat the same movements over and over again, he was going solely by muscle memory at this point.

“Alright Grayson, you’re done for the day” Dick resisted the urge to sigh in relief as he gave a slight bow and took a drink from his water bottle.

“So how have the kids been Slade?” he asked nonchalantly, knowing if it were any other person they’d be dead for even bringing up Slade Wilson’s children.

“Joseph is doing as well as always, focusing on the fine arts and being a good kid. Rose just enrolled in the same private school as him so they’re looking out for each other” the mercenary said with a huff, one Dick saw through.

“Why, I’d say you sound like a proud father!”

“As if you and Bats don’t talk about the birds like that”

Dick knew he had him there.

When he was 9 years old, a year after debuting as Robin and being adopted, he met Bruce’s ‘girlfriend’, if they could call whatever game those two were playing an actual relationship. He did not like Talia al Ghul, even less who her father was but he kept his opinion to himself, he wanted Bruce to be happy. Then it turned out she was pregnant.

Talia had decided to stow away from Ra’s, definitely not defecting from him anytime soon but she also knew that the man held too many secrets; few which she was able to discover. She was already aware that Ra’s had contingency plans if the Lazarus Pits stopped working on him, he was planning on possessing the body of someone of his blood. She knew the child would be the perfect vessel in his eyes. 

So she lied to Ra’s, stating that she was going on a deep cover mission for the League, dismantling or infiltrating some country from the inside instead of just killing their way in. Instead she hired Slade as a bodyguard and to help maintain her cover while she stayed at Wayne Manor. He had to admit that it was the softest he’d seen her.

Then when he was 12, they found Jason Todd. Well more like they caught him trying to steal the wheels from the Batmobile in the middle of the night at Crime Alley. The kid had spunk and a not great life living in Crime Alley’s streets so they took him in as their own. At the same time Dick was outgrowing Robin and didn’t think the mantle should gather dust as they waited for Damian to grow up; Jason was the perfect candidate.

That same year Batgirl came out of nowhere, a new shadow that hunted down corrupt cops specifically. Dick hadn’t really been all too surprised when it turned out to be his friend and classmate, because he was bored and decided skipping two grades would be a good idea, Barbara Gordon. That or the fact that they immediately took her in and gave her real training.

He was 15, nearing 16, when Tim Drake literally barged into their lives.

He was a scrawny 9 year old that had apparently been stalking them while they went around Gotham beating up very dangerous people and had found out their identities by seeing him perform a quadruple somersault. Seriously what the fuck had been the only thing in his mind at the moment.

It turned out that Tim had come to them in need of protection as he found out his parents were involved with the Court of Owls, something Bruce had tried to uncover but even he was beginning to believe was a myth, with his parents soon scheduling for him to be tested as a potential Talon. They were fully willing to sell their son’s soul for their cause and not caring that he would lose his humanity in the process. It wasn’t hard to open a case against the Drakes as concerned citizens for child neglect and embezzlement that may or may not have been discovered while they raided their place in the night and took anything they owned pertaining to the Court of Owls the week before the police began their investigations.

Which led to now.

Joker had decided to attack the new Robin, his perverted mind finding it unfair that he wasn’t told of the new change. Not only had he been surprised by the fact that Jason survived but he also got his ass handed back to him by Batman and Nightwing when they found out. Jason was borderline dying and the closest place they could go was, unfortunately, Infinity Island; aka al Ghul palace.

Ra’s was fortunately not on the island however David Cain was not informed of the fact that the Bats and Talia al Ghul had a strange alliance, sicking his living weapon aka his daughter out on them. She had stopped when she saw how close to death Jason was, freezing as though she could physically see his string of life snapping, and when David was readying to retaliate against her, he found himself knocked out by Talia. A few hours later the Batjet was sent back and the Batplane returned with Alfred, Barbara, Tim and Damian inside.

Once Jason was well enough, a day or two hopefully, they’d be leaving the island with a new sister in tow.

Dick would stop at nothing to keep his family safe.

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“Oh my god, Kagami”

Marinette had been hanging out with Damian, Dick, Marc and Alix in her room when her skylight window opened. Now this itself was a common occurrence after she and Adrien revealed their identities and when she began to give Miraculous full time.

However, the sight in front of her was one she had never expected to see before.

“I hope I’m not interrupting”

Kagami had dropped the transformation the moment she opened the window, Longg floating besides her in concern.

Her normally impeccable fair skin was littered with bruises of various shades, the most notable being a dark purple one on her cheek close to her eye. There were others she noticed on her hand and few popping up from underneath her ripped leggings. 

Marinette was snapped out of her stupor as Kagami stumbled down the window, her bookbag and two carry-on bags on her back.

“What happened?” Marc asked, right beside Kagami as Marinette took the other side, helping the Japanese girl with her bags and sat her on Marinette’s chaste.

“... My mother was not happy with my performance today” the girl winced as she sat down “She seems to have gotten it in her head that I sabotaged the match and have disgraced the family name”

“Kagami,” she looked up to see Richard, Dick, with his deep sapphire eyes full of concern and unrelenting fury. “Do you feel safe at home?”

Had she been asked a year ago she would have said that she did or that it was irrelevant and did not matter. She has since learned that ignoring the blaring issue and suffering in silence would do no good for anyone.

“No, I do not”

“Do you want to open a case against your mother?”

“... I do”

“That’s all I needed to hear”

While Marinette went to get her parents, scrambling up an explanation for how Kagami got to her house, not that her parents would ask once they saw her friend, Damian took photos of Kagami as evidence for a domestic abuse case.

They all took notice of her missing ring and the patch on her blazer.

Dick Grayson was not going to let this go.

But he knew that the woman did not deserve his time as Nightwing for this. No. She would just twist it with her reputation; they needed to destroy that to truly break her.

He may not have jurisdiction in Paris but he was still an officer and vigilante dammit! Not to mention he had a billionaire dad notorious for adopting kids left and right.

“Hey dad, y’know how it's my birthday in like ten months; how would you feel about giving me another sibling or two?"

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“Who are you?” In the middle of their stakeout for a potential safehouse in Happy Harbor, Nightwing and Robin turned to see an eerily familiar looking teen floating next to them, arms crossed but not looking ready to make a move. Yet.

“The better question is who are you” Nightwing quipped “I know Boy Scout did the Devil’s Tango but his kid definitely shouldn’t be as old as you are”

“Oh my god, shut up Nightwing” Robin groaned, Tim wondering what his odds would have been if he had just run away from home instead of going to the Bats.

“... I’m Superboy” the teen looked at the two curiously, he had heard hushed whispers of the Batman and his sidekicks, Nightwing and Robin. He also knew that for some reason the name Nightwing had caused discomfort and righteous anger to Superman.

“Superboy, huh.” Nightwing questioned as Robin began typing on his wrist computer “So you’re the secret member of Young Justice”

“How do you know that?” he hovered defensively, confused at Nightwing’s hand wave.

“Chill Superboy. I’m sure you’re all aware of the not so secret dislike between us and the League” his smirk told him there was more there… not that he’d know. None of the adults really talked to him other than Black Canary, and she was only a temporary member at that; she had mentioned to Superboy how she usually works alongside the Arrows of Central City and was part of The Birds of Prey.

“Especially after I stole the name from Superman”

“Stole from Superman?” Superboy was never aware of the fact that Nightwing was a name Superman ever used, it wasn’t part of the data fed to him through Cadmus or even personal studies he did in the Mount Justice library.

“Hasn’t big blue told you about his heritage?” Robin asked, an air of nonchalance and judgement around his statement.

“... No. Superman would rather ignore the fact I even exist” Superboy hadn’t meant to sound so pretentious but he couldn’t help it! It was getting on his nerves, how everyone just saw him as nothing more than a mini-Superman or a clone or even a weapon the enemy made… He wanted  to be more than all that.

“Do you have a name?” Nightwing asked, his cheerful demeanor gone and replaced with a serious and protective one.

“I am Superboy”

“Noㅡ I mean a name for the teen underneath the ‘S’. Not a codename” Nightwing asked gently “People don’t call me Nightwing when I’m not wearing the mask”

“... I’ve only been called Superboy, even in Cadmus”

“Oh you have got to be kidding me for fucks sake” he heard Robin’s angry huff, he couldn’t exactly turn off his super senses. 

“Well that’s dehumanizing” Nightwing was suddenly all smiles again, gently pulling Superboy down and sitting on a city bench, oddly there was no one near their general vicinity.

“How about I give you a Kryptonian history lesson, straight from the Fortress of Solitude’s archives! The story of Nightwing and Flamebird”

That was how Superboy became friends with the “dangerous enemy” and got a real first idea of what it meant to be Kryptonian.

That was also the night he gained the name Conner.

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When Kagami didn’t show up to school the next day no one thought much of it, at least no one that wasn’t Lila Rossi and Alya Cesaire.

People began to grow curious when Marinette and Chloe were also gone or the fact that Marc  and Alix had huge eye bags under their eyes. Depending on who asked they’d say that it was something personal or none of their business.

People began to get concerned when Sabrina’s dad, officer Raincomprix, asked to speak to M. Bustier, Adrien, Marc and Alix.

When the class began to pester Sabrina for answers she gave them a lost look and said “I can’t tell you anything, I’m not even supposed to know about the case but dad asked for some information… I think it's best we back off”

Of course that didn’t stop Lila or Alya from gloating over their victory, hoping that Kagami had been pulled from school or even sent back to Japan.

They never realized how much their act of revenge had impacted the Japanese girl or her group of friends.

Bruce Wayne would arrive that same day and head straight for the Dupain-Cheng household along with his daughter Cass and sons Tim and Jason.

“I didn’t think we’d have to start this whole process until after December but being early never hurt” Tim tried to joke, helping lift the somber mood just a bit.

After Tom and Sabine offered them refreshments before having to head downstairs to the bakery, the group began to think of logical backstories before Officer Raincomprix was due to arrive.

“... So you can just say after that poor excuse of a birth giver did what she did to you” Jason made sure to keep his cool, he knew these kids didn’t need a fucking Akuma right now “ You already had bags prepared and managed to leave when she went to sleep and went to your friend’s house. You knew you’d be safe there and that they’d be able to take you to the hospital to get your injuries looked at”

“I think that’ll work” Tim nodded along, invested in his laptop as he looked through Parisian surveillance for any other instances of public domestic abuse or even covering Kagami’s tracks as Ryuuko from last night, not that he blamed her for trying to leave as soon as possible.

“I know I said I’d help you with Gabriel but, “ Bruce began before Marinette shook her head.

“Right now Kagami’s case is more urgent… besides this may be beneficial with our case against Gabriel for associating with Tomoe and praising her form of parenting. Maybe we can even get them both in one go”

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Amidst the laundry list of paperwork and things to get done there were two important things happening;

First was the announcement of the Flying Grayson’s Foundation, a scholarship for international students to travel and study at Gotham Academy and any other high ranking schools around the country; they were looking for children who were either of lower income who could take advantage of the once in a lifetime opportunity or students who displayed great talents and could use the enriching environment these schools had to offer.

In other words it was a cover up to get the Miraculous Team away from Paris and in Gotham.

Should Bruce really be using his fortune to do these sort of things? He was rich with money to spare, if he used it to help teens that were left to their own devices by most of the adults in their lives then who was to say what he could or could not do with his money.

The second was the Hawkmoth investigation finally going guns ablazing.

Bruce and Marinette had both decided to let their teams handle tracking Hawkmoth for now as they strategized on ways to get Adrien away from Gabriel and secretly Nathaniel away from his parents.

With the later they had more luck by the name of Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy.

Within the months they had spent together the duo had gotten attached to the teens and were protective even as they ‘attacked the city’ to keep their criminal cover. When hearing about Nathaniel's situation the two had begun to think of ways to get him away from it, having had similar experiences growing up, along with Bruce.

They hadn’t realized there was a much simpler solution that wasn’t killing/arresting the Kutzbergs or kidnapping Nathaniel.

“You know you can just Matilda this and just give the adoption papers to them, right?” Duke said from the couch one day. “From what Nat says its likely they won’t give a shit or even protest”

It had worked.

Nathaniel was now officially Nathaniel Isley-Quinzel.

Barbara had worked with Tim and Max to perfect the laters algorithm for tracking down the Hawkmoth (along with some upgrades on Markov and maybe creating other sentient A.Is they hoped wouldn’t cause the apocalypse in the far future). Thankfully Tomoe Tsurugi had proven a valuable pawn as they managed to track down the one mile radius from where the Akuma could have come from when she was arrested for child abuse, physical abuse and child neglect.

Luckily, Tomoe had tried to attack Kagami when she heard her ex-prodigy and former daughter on her way to the police car. Dick had intervened, giving her a nerve punch and rendering her unconscious. Of course he brought up that it was for self-defense and could easily be proven by the cop cameras, though it was still seen as overkill.

That Akuma was quickly captured by Ladybug, who had already seen it coming, as she and the new Bee, Abeille, were watching the arrest from a nearby rooftop.

Money made things work much more faster in terms of the adoption process. It helped that he already had four adopted sons, an adopted daughter and biological son as proof of his competence as a parent. They’d laugh at him being a ‘great parent’ but he was a tired man who was secretly trying to change the world for better by dressing up as a Bat furry at night and was trying to be good for them and also had six legal and two technical children, so really they’d take what they could get.

Gabriel Agreste and Natalie Sancoer were doing their best to cover any violations of child labor laws, even going so far as to try to ground and pull Adrien out of school again.

Of course when Bruce and his three oldest sons showed up they had all the evidence they needed for a major scandal to break and ruin the Gabriel brand. They did make a very nice offer at a not so nice expense;

Give guardianship to/let Bruce adopt Adrien and the press would never have to find out.

Gabriel had nearly yelled at the man to leave his home the instant he subtly suggested it, even going so far as to call the “Gorilla”, which not only did not work but also gave the Wayne’s an even harder dislike of the man.

As it turns out as soon as Adrien told Gorilla, damn it he would find out the man’s name one day! About the plan against his father the man gave Adrien a flashdrive to use as part of the evidence.

“It's up to you Mister Agreste” Tim said in his CEO voice, cold and with business only in mind.

“You could just listen to our offer and just renounce any custody you have of Adrien and give it to us” Dick practically sang through his eyes but still held a hard look.

“Or you could face the backlash of not only exploiting, but also keeping him captive in his own home and overworking your son all for the name of your brand… Not to mention your questionable business practices or bias towards an underaged model” Jason added as nonchalantly and non threateningly as he could. It did not work, which was the whole point. “Losing your reputation and your son anyway”

Gabriel knew he was in over his head but was no fool.

Adrien packed up his things the next day, beginning his process of shipping his belongings off to Gotham. Coincidentally, Gorilla had given his letter of resignation and had gotten a job as the main caretaker of one Alise Anciel-Pennyworth.

Gabriel swore he’d get his revenge against Bruce Wayne one way or another.

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Conner did not know what to do.

He knew he did the right thing in distancing himself from his team, he didn’t know them well enough to consider them friends. But it still hurt to be alone…

Superman had been nothing but a pain in his ass with his Boy Scout routine and higher than thou personality.

Ugh just thinking about it made him want to shoot him with his heat vision. He had no idea how Superboy, because yeah the kid asked him and how could he say no to him?, could be related to that man. It must have been the Lois Lane of the kid.

Conner didn’t know who to turn for, there was no way he’d go to any of his biological donors, so he'd just spent the past few days flying endlessly.

He had stopped by Star City to see how Black Canary was, and for a quick session, but as much as she and Green Arrow offered he didn’t want to overstay his welcome. Not to mention he had a feeling he needed to go somewhere else.

The only other person who had given him the light of day was….

“Are you Superboy?” Conner looked up, which he didn’t do that often now that he thought about it, and saw a male figure standing on a lightpost, his features hidden by the Gotham night.

“Not anymore, who the hell are you?” the guy hoped down, with the light he was able to see the blonde hair and leather catsuit… did Catwoman get an apprentice?

“Well you should know the big bad Bat doesn't like metas. Any reason you’re here or should I escort you out right meow?”

“... I’m going to ignore the pun for now. I’m looking for Nightwing”

Conner noticed the twitch of the leather ear against the honey blonde hair and began to wonder if the guy was either trustworthy or meta. Just as Conner was about to fly away the guy tapped his ear, he recognized Nightwing’s voice before the guy nodded and ended the transmission.

“Well looks like Nightwing is vouching for you” he sat down on the park bench where Conner hadn’t realized he had spaced out for most of the afternoon. “He says to stay put, he’s kinda busy right now but shouldn’t take too long. Anyways I’m Chat Noir, Parisian superhero”

“Never heard of you before but it's nice to meet you” Conner shook his hand even though Chat Noir scowled, dropping the whole playful demeanor.

“No surprise there. You know we spent years asking for the Justice League’s help and they didn’t do shit, they didn’t even open our messages” the half Kryptonian experiment thought that he must have been mistaken.

Sure the Justice League had Superman and was full of a bunch of enhanced beings/meta-humans who would rather have brawns than brains according to his #2 Sperm Donor and refused to allow ‘regular’ humans or even only slightly enhanced on their team even though they knew how to kick ass but they weren’t terrible enough to not answer distress signals, right?

“How can you be so sure of that?”

“Nightwing and Batman told my team”

“And you trust their words, just like that?”

“Don’t you?” Chat Noir seemed to stare him down before Conner sighed, hand raking through his naturally curly hair.

“Yeah, I do. Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust him. Never met the other Bats and Birds though”

“Trust me, it’ll be chaotic in a fun way” Chat Noir grinned, a knowing twinkle in his eye. “So, why are you looking for Nightwing? Sorry if its invasive but well, you know what they say about cats”

“Curiosity killed the cat?” Conner questioned, the shit eating grin on Chat Noir’s face grew, like the cat who caught the canary.

“But satisfaction brought it back!”

“It’s kind of a long story, I doubt you’ll want to know the knitty gritty” Conner showed his gloved hands into his leather jacket, sighing.

“I’m all ears”

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“So you’re telling me that you were genetically engineered to replace and destroy Superman by using his stolen DNA and the one of his arch enemy Lex Luthor while also being planted with trigger words to make sure Luthor had a way to control you. Superman never even liked you even when he thought you were just a clone of him even though his own kid was pretty chill with you and he met you after the whole Daddy #2 reveal. Which also he used the triggers to make you attack your teammates, the Young Justice, so even though you got the triggers removed you quit and decided to take a break from the hero biz but you don’t really have anyone to trust so your best bet was Nightwing, who you’ve talked to every now and then since he likes messing with Superman and taught you about Kryptonian culture”

“Well yeah basically”

“Holy shit you need to see Dr. Quinzel or something”

“What about you leather boy? What are you even doing in Gotham?” Conner asked with a smirk, feeling comfortable with the feline boy after letting out his whole life story to him.

“Well do we want to start from when my mom died or when I was chosen to be a superhero at thirteen or when the whole city of Paris just expected my partner and I to be able to defeat the full on grown man terrorizing the city all on our own with no help whatsoever?”

“Daddy issues?”

“Pot calling kettle”

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“Ugh I can’t believe Ladybug didn’t show up to the fire yesterday” Alya ranted to her classmates, the ones that were still worth talking to that is.

“Dude you do realize that the fire department was there and had everything handled, right?” Nino looked at her skeptically, the two had broken up a few months or so ago now but they still treated each other with decency. At least most of the time.

“Think of all the lives they risked by not showing up!” Lila cried out “How could they leave Paris at their most vulnerable state?”

“I- I’m sure they were busy” Rose squeaked out, trying her best to console her friend. She still held some hope for the heroes of Paris after all!

“Yeah it's not like the firemen were doing their job or anything” Alix rolled her eyes at the group.

“Sabrina!” the ginger girl tensed at her name, turning to see the very much in danger of being akumatized again reporter “Didn’t your dad and the police department have to deal with those bank robbers last week without help of Paris’ heroes?”

“We-Well yes but my dad does that 𑁋”

“They’re just being so selfish! Think of all the people who risk their lives everyday with no magic bulletproof suit. They think they’re above Paris’ everyday problems and only show up when we can’t handle it”

“Surely you aren’t such a fool, Cesaire” Max stated cooly as he typed away on his laptop “Or do you not remember how everything used to function before their arrival”

“Listen here you little nerd!”

“N-No Alya… I know I shouldn’t say this but the truth is… Ladybug is over Paris” Lila began to tear up, hiding her face within her hands as she started to choke up “She and I had a fight a few weeks back; she said she’s tired of dealing with all of Paris’ problems even when I begged her to reconsider! I- I think she’s planning on abandoning us altogether… and we all know we’re doomed without Ladybug there to keep her sidekicks in check”

The room was full of looks of shock and surprise, including that of Miss Bustier who was sitting at her desk. Suddenly that grieving silence was interrupted by laughs coming from the back, Adrien trying to reign in his laughter.

“Oh god,that’s probably the only lie you told that’s partly true Rossi '' the blonde sunshine child had gotten more cynical the longer he spent time in public school. There were rumors he threatened his father with a lawsuit through a third party about child labor laws, something Alya tried researching and asking him about. Apparently Adrien was officially out of the fashion industry.

“She really is a lost cause” Alix had not so subtly whispered to Kim, who nodded along.

“What would you lot know! Besides anyone whose friends with the Ice Queen, Tsurugi is𑁋”

“Actually, Alya” Marinette interrupted “As class vice-president you should be aware that Kagami had her name legally changed. She now goes by Kagami𑁋”

“Oh dear, did you get disowned Kagami?” Lila framed it as an innocent concern but those who knew the real her recognized the mocking tone.

“I owe you no explanations, Rossi” the girl responded back, going back to ignoring the class with Marinette. They still remembered the day she came back to school, most of the class, not including a select few assholes they decided not to name, had looked at her in worry as she branded various bandages and some healing bruises; she had all but ignored them and continued on her regular routine.

Meanwhile that night Bruce Thomas Wayne made a press conference at Wayne Enterprises’ building, with his two oldest Richard John “Dick” Grayson-Wayne and Jason Peter Todd-Wayne.

“Mister Wayne are you really saying you’ve adopted another child?” Lois Lane stood up as the microphone was given to her “What warranted the newest member of the Wayne Clan? Is it a sensitive matter like that of your daughter Cassandra or perhaps like that of Damian’s?”

Bruce made sure to give a flustered look, especially since her husband, one Clark Kent, otherwise known as Kal-El or Superman, was with her.

“Why I must say, those are excellent questions Miss Lane” he started off with a smile “ However, to answer your questions they’ve been a family acquaintance and then friend for some time. It’s not my story to tell but their home life was not the healthiest, it got to the point where my family offered to help them get out of that situation. They were admittedly reluctant to do so but… I suppose a line had been crossed and they asked for our assistance”

The members of the press seemed to deflate at the confession, all drawing up their conclusions to what his words meant and what the newest member had experienced in their life.

“Yes, Ms. Grant?” Dick asked, pointing for them to hand over the microphone for Cat Grant.

“Will we be meeting the newest member of your family anytime soon?”

“They will be properly introduced to the public during the Wayne Gala next month in Paris, they’re still attending school elsewhere but they’ll be transferring to Gotham Academy and properly moving into the estate this upcoming semester”

They were sure the new Wayne would be making headlines when the time arrived.

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“You’re serious” Conner asked in awe, “You’d really do that?”

“Oh kitty,” Selina began to brush her fingers across Conner’s curly locks as she held the hurt boy closer to her.

After arriving in Gotham and getting to talk with Nightwing, who when learning about the situation the teen was in had recruited the help of the Gotham Sirens to host the boy as the Wayne’s had a lot of eyes on them after the announcement of an adopted child; Conner didn’t need the attention right now. 

The Sirens had agreed after learning about everything the boy had gone through, Harley agreeing that he needed stability and offered sessions or even having Dinah come visit, while Ivy made sure their place was secure enough to withstand an attack and kept vigilant in case the boy scout decided to come looking for Conner, even if they doubted he’d’ try. Selina tried to get the boy to open up, sharing her own childhood backstory and how she became Catwoman.

That’s when Selina realized that Conner had no family name, he’d even only gone as Superboy until fairly recently. No one bothered to give him a name.

So she offered her own.

“Of course I am. In fact any one of the people in this apartment and even the Bats would offer their name if you asked”

Conner knows that Jon called him an “honorary Kent” on the basis of being his dad’s clone and a Krytonian but Conner never felt like he had earned the name. Clark certainly never offered.

“Conner Kent, they said I should feel free to use that name” Conner sighed “But I don’t think it’s right”

“Well whatever name you choose it’ll be yours. Though I suggest making up your mind soon, Oracle is working on making you some legal documents so you can finally have a ‘normal life’ if that’s what you want”

“What even is normal?” the duo looked behind to see Nathaniel, graphite smudges on his face. The red headed boy was staying over with Harley and Ivy as his new moms and they were working on some more “family bonding time”. If all went well he’d be transferring to Gotham Academy for the new school year.

If Selina remembered correctly his boyfriend and Alfred’s great-nephew would also be moving to Gotham while Alfred’s sister would be placed in a senior center or given a caretaker.

“What happened to you?” Conner muffled a laugh as he took a look at Nathaniel’s state.

“Deadlines” the boy in question said, chugging what they thought was hot coffee, Trixx sleeping on his head, almost camouflaging in the red. “I’m about to go in a 12+ coma, night”

“But its 2 pm?” Conner asked amused, Nathaniel walking out of the room with a wave of his hands before peeking back inside with a smirk.

“By the way, Chat Noir has a thing for black hair and blue eyes”

Selina was amused by the flush Conner was quick to gain and decided that she’d tease him about it another day.

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“Chloe, Nino hey!” Adrien waved at his friends as they made their way around the enormous amount of rich/influential people that were attending the first ever Flying Graysons Scholarship celebration in Paris. All of Dupont Francois was allowed to attend, though Lila insisted it was thanks to her connections, because of the amount of students that would be receiving their awards/scholarships that night.

The whole Miraculous team was clad in images to their hero persona via Miraculous by MDC line that Marinette had been working on ever since she quit being class president almost a year ago. They were her most popular designs on her website, even internationally which they had found odd.

Nino was wearing an Anselm inspired bomber jacket along with a standard white button up and black jeans. Chloe was wearing something a bit more formal with a two piece dress with a black top and honey gold pencil skirt with little bees stitched at the hems and some high heels, her hair was let down for once with a pearl hairclip keeping her bangs up.

“I’m guessing you got here with the rest of your not yet adopted family?” Chloe asked while the boy grinned. Adrien had decided that the first thing he would do as a not yet Wayne was to wear other designer clothes that were not from the Gabriel design, and what better clothes than those of his platonic soulmate. Marinette may have gone over the top but he loved her for it; deep emerald dress pants and tie, the tie having subtle cat paws travelling from the top to the bottom where a cat was stitched, a black button up with the same shade of green as the pants on the underside, showing up as he had rolled his sleeves, standard black vans and her iconic bowler hat.

“Well yeah but I also got a date” Adrien smirked at their surprised and offended looks

“And you didn’t tell me!” they both said outraged.

“Guess the cat’s out of the bag now, babe?” the two turned to see Conner, whom they met a handful of times since he tended to hang out alot with the Sirens; he was a cool and overall good guy who just had shitty adults in his life according to Nathaniel, who’d see him when visiting his moms.

“Well at least you have good taste” Chloe gave Conner a one over; he was for once not wearing the same leather jacket he wore as not-Superboy, though he wore a ruby button up with rolled sleeves, a black vest and black jeans making the outfit more of a business casual sort of vibe though his brown combat boots definitely it lean more on casual.

“Thank you, your highness” the Kryptonian bowed much to their amusement “Though I don’t think I got a bad catch either”

“Damn I don’t think we had any betting pools for that” Kim laughed as he walked along with Max. Kim was wearing mocha dress shorts and a beige dress shirt, a mocha bow tie and gray suspenders with little monkeys tied the whole thing together. Max had a more average short sleeved white button up and khakis combination though with the addition of a coffee bowtie and deep coffee formal jacket with small silver horseshoes on the collar it definitely spiced up the look.

“By my calculations you guys were the most unpredictable pairing though it doesn’t surprise me that you got together before LadyRobin”

“LadyRobin? I thought we were going with Daminette or Maridami?” Nino asked amused

“Whatever their name is, those two are taking forever to make a move! For kwami’s sake RedScales/LukaTim already got together months ago” Chloe huffed in annoyance causing the group to laugh in good nature.

“Conner?”

The group took quick notice of Conner's sudden stiffness, looking up to see a besticaled man with an overbearing aura, as though his mere presence could overpower you. They had assumed that it was because of his large figure. Until Bruce made his way towards them.

“Clark Kent, right? With the Daily Planet?”

That got reactions from the teens; they were well aware of who the man before them was.

“Right you are sir. It's an honor to meet you in person mister Wayne” Clark laughed politely in a very obviously superficial way.

“I’d hardly call this the first time, after all I know the Daily Planet has a tendency to send you and Miss Lane when covering cases in Gotham” Bruce smiles before looking at the group of teens, as though he had just noticed them, “Ah! I see you’ve met some of the recipients of our Flying Graysons Scholarship”

“Oh, really?” Clark gave a skeptical look as he looked at the teens who were subtly moving Conner away from the center of attention.

“Yes; We have Kim Le Chien as a training olympian swimmer and overall athlete, Nino Lahiffe who’s been getting recognition on short films he’s created for school along with some original soundtracks he’s made and Max Kante and his talent for coding and robotics”

“And what of the others?” the reporter pestered on, though they knew he just wanted to know what Conner was doing there with them,

“ Well,  Adrien Graham de Venily is a family friend, while Chloe Bourgeois is daughter of the mayor and of the fashion mogul Style Queen” he gestured to the two blondes gave cold smiles at the besticaled man “Both they  and Conner Kyle here” he patted Conner’s shoulder, the teen relaxing at a familiar touch before glaring at Clark, “The adopted son of a family friend, will be transferring along with the award recipients considering they’re all friends to Gotham Academy; I rather think its touching how deep their friendship runs”

“Conner… Kyle?”

“Yes. It's my legal name on my birth certificate, Mr.Kent. Do you have a problem with that?” Conner puffed up his chest towards his genetic donor.

“... None at all Mr.Kyle” Clark had then been quickly swept up in a conversation that was truly about nothing that Bruce had distracted him with, allowing the group to leave towards the balcony for some much needed privacy.

“Are you alright, Kon?” Adrien looked up at his boyfriend in concern before the boy sighed with a tired smile.

“I will be”

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“I can’t believe Adrien blew me off like this!” Lila cried out on her ride to the Wayne Gala. She didn’t care for the stupid scholarship, her mother’s job could easily send them to wherever the hell they wanted anyway. Alya seemed to believe that she had a chance of getting the award and scoring an interview with the Wayne’s newest member. If Lila had her way then she was sure she would get one of those rich idiots eating out of the palm of her hand by the end of the night. Especially if they were as much of a playboy as Brucie Wayne was.

“Lila you need to realise that Adrien isn’t worth it” Alya soothed “He’s done so much shit to you, he doesn’t deserve your time. I bet you can totally score a better man at the gala than anyone Adrien could hope to be”

“Tha-Thanks Alya, I don’t know where I’d be without my bestie”

The two girls met up with the rest of their school during the reception, though a few noticeable people were not with the group.

“Thank you, everyone for coming today to support this wonderful new foundation” Richard’s voice echoed as he made his way on stage, the audience applauding as he reached the table with all the awards.

“I remember before meeting Bruce I’d travel around the world along with the circus with my parents; we used to perform gravity defying tricks as the Flying Graysons. We’d see the different places of the world but I noticed the differences in the culture and state of living. So now I’d like to honor their memory with the help of dad by giving different gifted and talented kids around the world a chance to flourish and further polish their talents”

Alya was already streaming on the Fox Tea as the crowd clapped. Lila wasn’t impressed though; he may look like money but he was just a circus monkey after all. Though his body certainly looked like a million dollars.

“And to help give out these awards I’d like to invite my family, including my new little sister; Kagami Wayne!”

Lila would feel her nails stab into her palms as the Waynes came out from behind the curtains, a familiar Asian girl with them.

She hated the fact that her dress was as gorgeous as it was.

Kagami hadn’t wanted to go over the top but according to her brothers and sisters she needed to stand on her own lest the media try to brush her off or even try to start shit with Bruce neglecting them. Marinette had worked long and hard on the dress she wore, swearing it was her magnus opus of the Miraculous by MDC summer formal line. A raspberry red thigh high figure hugging dress with a silk skirt and golden embroidery with a dragon wrapping up to her waist. It had been months since Kagami began to rebel against her birthgiver and had grown her hair out enough to curl it and clip it to the side of her hair with a golden hair ornament Bruce had gifted her when the papers went through, pairing nicely with the golden heels, belt and choker she wore.

The rapid flashes of light nearly blinded Lila but somehow none of the Wayne’s seemed affected by them as they just stood and posed for the paparazzi.

“Now we’d like to present the Flying Graysons Scholarship to the following people from Francois Dupont; Marc Anciel, Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Nathaniel Isley-Quinzel, Max Kante, Alix Kubdel, Nino Lahiffe, and Kim Le Chien”

If it weren’t for the fact that she spotted Gabriel earlier in person and could currently see him glaring at the Waynes, Lila would have been counting on Akuma to appear.

 🔴⚫🔴⚫🔴⚫🔴⚫🔴⚫🔴⚫

“Oh my kwami, please tell me I’m not seeing what I think I’m seeing” Marinette stated as she rolled her suitcases behind her, her friends in similar states as they saw the building before them. It was now the end of August by the time they officially moved into their new dorm… or rather new apartment building in which they were the only residents besides Mrs.Anciel-Pennyworth and “Gorilla”. Adrien had sworn all of them to not tell him his former bodyguards real name because he was a big boy who’d investigate it himself.

“Holy shit this man literally just flexed at us” Conner said in awe, lowering his sunglasses to get a better look at the place, it seemed like Bruce had thought ahead and coated certain rooms in lead paint, enough to keep Boy Scout from snooping but to be safe for his friends to not face health issues.

“Okay he’s clearly showing favorites now unless he did the same for the other winners” Alix looked unimpressed.

“Though he certainly did a 180 of this place” Max nodded, as it turned out those months ago this had once been the building where the now extinct gang was keeping their “merch”. Since then they knew Wayne Enterprises had bought it out but they hadn’t realized that Bruce would refurbish it and make it into their new living place.

“Seriously, Mr.Wayne you didn’t have to spend𑁋” Nathaniel began, looking as the man came out with his own kids to help with the move and to get Kagami, Marc and Adrien settled.

“Don’t worry about it. It was like spending money at the dollar store for him” Jason ruffled his hair before picking up some boxes and taking them inside.

🔴⚫🔴⚫🔴⚫🔴⚫🔴⚫🔴⚫

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were trying to buy us out” Luka said as they finished up the tour of the glorified dorm/ mansion.

The building had what they called six visible floors;

The rooftop had an indoor pool and was fully furnished to hold campfires or even barbecues if they wanted as well as a collapsable roof.

The sixth floor is where the music studio and labs were. Both were soundproof, reinforced and had monitors linked up to Big Sister aka Hecate ( the artificial intelligence Barbara had worked on to reassure Bruce that the kids wouldn’t die in their dorm. She was no replacement for Alfred however Guillaume ‘Gorilla’ Durand promised to do his best in taking care of the children’s well-being and that of Alise.) who would warn them if their activities were reaching dangerous levels.

The fifth floor was called the Artist Alley. Half of it was occupied by Marinette and Chloe as they developed Lady Luck (trademark pending) by MDC while Marc and Nathaniel occupied the other half with their studio to develop their series “The Adventures of Illustrator and Reverser”. They thought it was good but both had realised that they wanted to try making a more mature, probably teen targeted, series; (Teen) Titans was their current working title.

The third and second was what they called the residential floors, the right side holding the girls’ dorm while the left had the boys’.The second floor also had rooms they would use for guests though each room also had a pull out couch just in case. Each dorm had a private bathroom with a full bathtub, sink and toilet, full sized room, closet, and computer desk with a comfortable amount of space to rearrange or add their own items. Each floor had their own entertainment system, kitchen and dining room that helped separate the rooms. On the third floor was Marinette, Kagami, Chloe and Alix on one side while Adrien, Luka, Nino and Conner were on the other. The second floor had Alise and Gorilla on the right while Max, Kim, Nathaniel and Marc lived on the left. 

The first floor was the entrance, the first part looking like your standard lobby though it still had a mailbox for all its residents for the mailmen to drop off their letters and packages, fully equipped with a detector just in case anything passed any screening before. People could only make it to the elevator if they were accompanied by one of the residents or were identified as welcomed/ not persona non grata by Hecate. The other side of the first floor was the game room; different game systems, DDR system, pool table, darts boards, foosball table, and chess/checkers table were scattered around the remaining space of the room.

The basement was a fully dedicated gym. It had about every machine one would find at a regular gym along with a basketball court and a place for practicing gymnastics though there were nets and safety mats installed along any area where they could have accidents on them.

The first secret floor was where their special gym was, the floor hidden by thick lead underneath the basement. There they had equipment that they could use to train their extraordinary abilities. Any equipment in it was super strength resistant for Conner to blow off some steam without fearing he’d ruin it for his friends. Training dummies were also in their own section for them to train without having to go to the Batcave. There was a place to meditate and find quiet amongst the chaotic building, soundproof but monitored by Hecate. The room was also made to withstand any natural disaster, including a disaster caused by Superman or a rampaging Joker. 

Beneath the building was also an underground tunnel, it was connected to the Batcave and could be used to escape in case of an emergency or for a direct route from the cave without having to go out on the surface. There was also another one that was connected to a safehouse where they would meet in case shit really hit the fan. It was big enough for them to use their hidden motorcycles, leave traps for any followers or to run; whichever they had the liberty to do .

“Brucie didn’t pay for everything” Dick laughed

“Yes, Jagged insisted he help with at least the music and art floors” Damian informed them in a monotone voice, though he did try stealing glances from Marinette.

“Plus Lex Luthor may or may not be missing some hidden money that may or may not have been used for all the gym equipment and the labs. Y’know evil guy pocket change” Tim laughed as Luka just snuggled to his little evil genius of a boyfriend.

“Well if he was buying us out I’d say it’s working”

🔴⚫🔴⚫🔴⚫🔴⚫🔴⚫🔴⚫

“He’s conspiring against us”

“How?”

“He’s making his own team of teenagers”

“So you’re saying that Wayne is the Batman? And that he’s making his own teen superhero team?” Flash, Barry Allen, found himself questioning their leader during yet another Justice League meeting at the Hall of Justice.

“Well there have been more vigilante reports in Gotham” Wonder Woman, Diana, added on, looking through the newest blurry photos that the internet was able to scavenge up. Like the other photos they were all blurry and covered them by shadows. 

“And Sup— Conner was amongst the children that transferred into Gotham Academy “ he admitted reluctantly, their screens showing the list of all Flying Graysons Foundation Scholarship before narrowing them by those who would be staying in Gotham.

“Conner? But I thought—“ Martian Manhunter asked from his seat.

“All these papers look legal enough,” Barry said as he took a closer look at the copies of the birth certificate and school records for one Conner Kyle.

“We can’t even say these are fake or forged because he never had one to begin with” Diana further admonished though Kal brushed over it.

“And you suspect that the other scholarship students are in on it?” Aquaman, King Orin or Arthur Curry, asked skeptically. The children who had won the scholarship seemed about as average as normal children could go other than the fact that they had different specialities or talents, awards already to their names in recognition and that they attended the same school as the newest Wayne, Kagami.

“Well there’s no evidence that points towards that” Hawkwoman, Shayera Hol, admonished “These are merely children; accusing them of such things is most dishonorable if we have no evidence against them”

“We are well aware of the animosity between the League and the Batman” Red Tornado informed in his normal monotone voice.

“And we know you and Conner had a hard falling out after… All that happened those months back” Starfire, Koriand’r the alien princess of Tamarand and supervisor of the Young Justice, stated as diplomatically as she could.

“Are you sure you aren't blowing this out of proportions? This could just be Superboy moving on with his life. Perhaps he found someone to adopt him as their own” when certain people failed to was the silent addition most could hear out of Diana’s voice.

Barry Allen knew they had a reason to fear these rumors.

If the limited, and he meant the bare minimum, information Green Lantern, Hal Jordan, had told him of the secret alliance of heroes who weren’t part of the Justice League was anything to go by.

He just hoped that they hadn’t done anything to anger these new blood.

AO3 Ko-Fi

[crimsonxrogue]

( Casey Deidrick, 31, cismale, he/him ) Did anyone else just see BLAKE FAUST ? I hear for the FAUST family they can be a bit VOLATILE  &  DETACHED. But I also heard they can be LOYAL & CHARMING. If you dare I hear they frequent THE DEN in their spare time when they aren’t being a CRIMSON. Tread carefully or else you might be next on their list !

Hey hey people! I’m Claire (she/her, GMT+1), returning to the group just to bring you this mess of a human being, so if anyone wants to plot with him - feel free to drop a like and I’ll pop into your DMs or you just pop straight into mine!

BASIC STATS

➤  NAME: Blake Nathaniel Faust ➤  AGE: 31 ➤  DOB: June 3rd ➤  BORN: Chicago, Ilinois ➤  HEIGHT: 6′5′’ ➤  SIBLINGS: brother (missing) ➤  MBTI: ESTP-T ➤  ORIENTATION: bisexual ➤  OCCUPATION: crimson, car thief/dealer (car tuning) ➤  EDUCATION: physics B.S., M.D. ➤  TATTOOS: intricate tattoo that covers most of his back, with various imagery intertwined such as thorny roses, serpents, wings etc. with the quote ‘death before dishonor’ flanked by the imagery (it can be seen just a little above his collar because it stretches to his neck), on his chest there’s one that is meant to imitate scratch marks from a large animal ➤  SCARS: a lot of smaller silvery scars that are the result of shrapnel from the IED that got him discharged, an old bullet wound just below his collarbone, a few old scars from wounds imparted by knives, small burn marks on his stomach from a cattle prod ➤  AESTHETICS: bloodied knuckles and the cracked, worn leather of an old punching bag, smell of fire and gasoline, sharp lines of an old muscle car, features hidden beneath a motorcycle helmet, dark leather and a lingering scent of cigarettes, old, worn military boots, glimpses of the tattoo snaking up his neck, the silvery glint of rings, a dark solitary figure in an empty church, a beat up zippo and the scent of blood, notes scattered across a worn napkin, never to be played again, black Stratocaster in the corner of a bare room, knives and sniper rifles, a crumpled box of Marlboros, sly smirks and black shirts, music playing over the roar of a V8, the soft green hue of a home brimming with plants, a raven sitting on top of a Mustang, garage full of shiny cars caught in the middle of creation, knuckles never quite healed ➤  VICES: tobacco, alcohol, sex, drugs (preferably morphine), fighting ➤  PETS: yes, a dog of unknown origin with grey-coloured fur and pale eyes called Ace, so Blake’s best guess is that there’s some husky in him, a raven that refuses to leave called Muninn, a few cats that are not really permanent residents they just come and go because he probably rescued and fed them at some point

QUICK RUNDOWN:

Listen, this shit got long so here’s a quick rundown of Blake so you don’t have to waste time unless you want to hahaha

Faust Cousin, has been involved/aware of the gang since forever.

His father was killed when Blake was 14 and it was he who found him dead and couldn’t save his life. Which is partly why he eventually went to medical school.

He focused heavily on the gang and developing his skills and dealing with anger/guilt through his teenage years, also with a mom that was kind of withering away with his father gone.

When he was 18 his brother disappeared, mom kinda went off the rails, Blake got into a car crash.

He dealt with his issues by focusing on the gang and school but also racing and fighting in the Den and shit like that. Like he was good at what he did and he could separate work vs. private life but tbh work and the gang was all he had and he was a kid with issues making bad/dangerous decisions.

Eventually joined the army as a marine corpsman because he wanted to do his job as an MD, but didn’t want to do it within the corrupt system. And also because his dad served a stint in the army and he thought discipline might do him some good to regain full control again.

Fell in love, guy died during an IED explosion, Blake spent like 45 minutes doing CPR until they dragged him away. He’s got issues from that.

Got an honorable discharge and came back to Chicago to focus once again on the Fausts cause that’s his lifeline and he doesn’t know what he would do without them.

Eventually opened up an illegal car shop for like specific customization and tuning because working on projects calms him, and he likes cars and it seemed like a good thing to waste his time on.

Still races, still fights, but he’s using that stuff as an outlet to keep himself under control. Still can’t figure out who killed his father, and why his brother is gone so he’s got issues with that.

Also takes care of Nick’s (that friend he fell in love with) wife and kid cause he promised that to him once. Visits his mom regularly in the home where she’s situated. 90% of the time if you can’t find him anywhere - he’s in The Den.

HISTORY

Born in Chicago into the Faust family, younger of the two sons of Jacob Faust and cousin to the Faust siblings - he was nudged into the game early on, and never really doubted the gang’s vital role in his future life or his desire to be a part of it, despite his mother’s concerns.

His father was killed when Blake was 14 and it was Blake who found him brutally beaten and bleeding from a gunshot wound, minutes before his mother walked in (despite his best effort to keep her from seeing the scene). He tried to keep him alive while the ambulance arrived, but failed - something he’s never forgiven himself for. Despite being surrounded by family, Blake would from then on find that he was missing a key piece in his life - the father figure, his mentor.

It would change him profoundly and derail his life in some key ways - he would never forgive himself for the fight he had with his father just hours before, for not being there, for not doing enough, and for the never-ending search to find out just who did that to his father, and why.

His mother, in the years to follow would start to whither away, like a flower kept a bit too long out of the daylight. It was an irreparable downward spiral that Blake couldn’t stop, which left him feeling inadequate and with a sense that he would just never be enough. These days she’s nearly catatonic, lost in her stupor of grief and medicine that was supposed to help but lost its effect years ago, spending her days in a home.

His teenage years were spent focused on the gang and honing his skills, the sole source of catharsis for him as he tried to work through his anger and guilt. He decided to go the pre-med route, and though it might have sounded shocking, it stemmed from some decision he made long ago as he watched his father die, useless in that scenario. He never wanted to feel that powerless and lost again.

He was 18 when his older brother disappeared - leaving behind only another set of questions that Blake was supposed to answer. It was the week their mother finally lost it, the week Blake wrapped his shiny black BMW around a tree, the week Blake considered the lowest point in his life. He doesn’t like to remember this part of his life, though the nightmares still plague him, just like the ones about his father.

A medical degree in hand, he could not see himself working in the system - it seemed at odds with what his real life entailed, and Blake always worked better under pressure, untethered by the rules and protocols. In other words - in combat. He joined the army on a whim - because his father had done this when he was young, because it felt like he was losing touch, the vices, the anger, the recklessness eating away at him, because it was a way for that hands-on approach to his job that he wanted so badly. And because he was good with a gun.

But there was heartbreak there too - even if it saved him from himself, it left him wounded in different ways. He fell in love with a comrade - a forbidden, impossible feeling that would fester over time and culminate in Nick’s death. The refusal of them both to shoot at children would end in an IED explosion even as their commander screamed at them both, and Nick would take the brunt of the blast, leaving Blake wounded but capable enough of preforming CPR for far too long, until he had to be forcefully dragged away from Nick’s body.

He would be honorably discharged after that, and returned home. Different. Changed. For better or worse is a question that still hangs unanswered.

He would immerse himself into the gang once again - feeling like that is the only thing that matters these days, using it as a lifeline while he tries to figure out how to not feel so empty. It’s all he’s good at after all, right?

HEADCANONS:

Since his mother was placed in a home years ago, Blake makes sure she’s given all the best care, and visits her every Wednesday and Saturday like clockwork, with her favourite flowers in hand, new painting supplies and whatever book he’s reading to her that month. It hurts him to see her so indifferent, so empty where once she was full of life, but he still visits without mistake out of some misplaced hope, and a sense of love and loyalty.

While it was his father who taught him how to fight and handle his knives, it was actually his mother who taught him all she knew about firearms. She actually used to be one of the Crimsons, just like Blake is these days.

While they were overseas, Nick actually made Blake promise to take care of Nick’s wife and kid if anything ever happened to him. Despite Blake’s feelings for Nick and his awareness that nothing could ever come of those feelings - he agreed to it, and never doubted his determination to keep up that promise. He makes sure they are well taken care of, and tries to keep them both from the more gritty aspects of this city - to give them a chance at a normal life.

Considering his current refusal to work in his actual field, Blake has taken something he loved since childhood and turned it into a profitable hobby, on the side when there’s no assignments. He used his connections to tap into the underground world of cars, and what was once him tinkering with cars until he got bored and sold them, now turned into him buying cars off the black market and customizing them until they’re exotic enough to attract customers, or perfected enough to fit what the client has ordered. He doesn’t really have to do this, he just likes to do it. There’s something methodical and predictable about the engines and the bits and pieces that calms his mind whenever he needs to think, or has a sleepless night. Plus, he just likes cars.

Which means he also likes street racing. It’s something he picked up early on, and hasn’t given up ever since. He just likes the feeling of his hand on the gearshift and his foot on the gas pedal, and the thrill and danger of it all. Sometimes, it’s even better if motorcycles are involved, though he spends most of his time behind the wheel of a car.

Has a thing for collecting stray animals. It started when he was a kid, his mother had allowed it and taught him how to take care of them if they were wounded, and he just never grew out of it. Ace and Muninn have taken up permanent residence in his house, but there’s other animals that sort of come and go.

He’s got an old silver zippo with engravings from the army such as “As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil for I am the evilest son of a bitch.“ and dates and initials of his fallen comrades. He loves that beat up piece of trash though, and you’ll never see him without it.

His absolute favourite car in his collection is an old-timer, and not just any old-timer, but a raven black ‘69 Boss 428 Mustang. That thing was expensive as hell and really hard to find, but Blake wanted it in mint condition and takes care of that thing like his life depends on it. Sure he’ll push it to its limits, but otherwise he takes better care of that stupid car than himself.

He loves music - it’s his outlet. You can sometimes see him jotting down notes on a napkin when he’s sitting in a diner at 4AM - it calms him to write these things down, helps get the music out of his head. When he can’t sleep, he’ll play his Stratocaster until he’s able to pass out, even if just for a few hours.

Probably the weirdest quirk of his, is his penchant for faith. His mother was religious, and she sort of instilled that in him at a young age. He must have lost his faith a thousand times over the years, but he always ends up coming back. No doubt in his mind God doesn’t want anything to do with his messed-up ass, but he likes this concept that there’s something out there, even if it’s not for him. Then at least for the good people in his live that he loves. It sort of brings him peace, and if he can’t be found at his usual joints around town - he’s no doubt sitting in a dark, empty church, head bowed down, seeking solace. He’s never going to admit it though, unless you catch him in the act.

Also plants, his house is filled with those? Idk, he’s so bad at taking care of himself and is probably in a complete organ failure, but the plats and the animals - they’re thriving like he’s been studying vet medicine and botany all his life. Really his entire house paints a very different picture of him than his style does - there’s skylights and windows, glass walls looking into the small garden that sits in the middle, wood and green and knick-knacks everywhere.

You are most likely to find him in The Den, though he visits all the other usual joints too. His knuckles are always beat up, to some degree. He loves fighting, just for the sake of another hit of adrenaline, and because it makes him feel somewhat alive. When he’s not doing that, he’s probably taking his frustrations out on an old, worn-out punching bag he’s had since forever, or jogging around the city at strange hours of the night.

PERSONALITY:

+  loyal, intelligent, charming, cool-headed, meticulous -   volatile, vindictive, detached, callous, angry

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

The Friends - Someone please put up with him? He can be funny, sometimes. In a dry, dark sort of way. Like someone has to be there to explain to him breakfast isn’t cereals in a bowl of vodka. I mean he’ll probably sarcasm his way out of it, but at least someone tried… I’m kidding he’s not that bad - it’s just that it takes time to reach him unless you’ve known him for some time, then he’s just loyal to the bone and you can actually reach him from time to time. This can be both new and old, spanning from a few months all the way back to his childhood tbh.

The Exes - And by exes I mean hookups, or real exes who got sick of him being a mess, or they were too much of a mess together, or someone ill-informed tried to save this jackass from himself. Anything works honestly, it can be angsty or a tragicomedy, I’m there for it all, I want to hurt him real bad.

The Friend’s Wife - She’s the wife of his brother-in-arms and army best friend that died during an explosion. I think their relationship was shaky at first, considering Blake’s feelings for her husband - but Blake can see why Nick loved her so much. Blake once promised Nick that if anything ever happened to him, Blake would take care of her and the kid, and he’s not big on breaking promises. He’ll probably care for them until the day he dies, whether or not she likes it. He adores the kid though, revels at her innocence and the way she’s delighted at everything, she also represents the only memory he has of Nick. None of this is set in stone though, we can always discuss the details!

The one he hates - This will sound ridiculous, but it’s someone he’s been involved with at some point in his life (leaving this flexible) They butted heads a lot, hated each other even, but I feel like they also got addicted to each other because at least it made Blake feel something, even if it was irritation. They are far too similar for their own good, and they feed off each other’s troubles. It’s a bit selfish on both sides, and definitely unhealthy, but I’m super interested in exploring that because lbr Blake can’t make a good decision for the life of him. This could be either old or fresh, angsty/tragic I’m up for anything, and we can develop/discuss it further!!

Also everything else - someone to race with, maybe a client, ex-comrades from he army (I would love those!!), someone from med school etc. etc. If you’ve got an idea or want to discuss any of the above, feel free to shoot me a message! I’m super duper excited about plotting with him and I’m always here to explain if anything up there was unclear, don’t be afraid to reach out!

I will add more when I come up with stuff that’s better than whatever this is hahaha

[diego-badbitch-hargreeves]

Diego had been the first to notice the intruders in the academy, though how they had gotten in he wasn’t quite sure. The shots ringing out made his ears ring even as he jumped on the taller, stronger of the pair and slammed his head into what he had thought was a silicone mask. The bridge of his nose split open, blood pouring down his face making him chuckle as he slid back, pressing his back against the bar to wait for an opening, for them to walk by. For anything. They were clearly skilled fighters on one mission, that mission being to kill his family for god knows what reason. His heart raced and he nodded when he finally caught sight of Allison, giving her a nod as she grabbed herself a weapon.

“You wanna rumor this bitch?”

“Nah. She just pissed me off.” He chuckled at his sister, watching the two fight until Allison handed him a knife. He threw it quickly, barely seeing her heading out at Luthers cry of pain. He gritted his teeth, starting towards where the one in the pink mask had managed to limp to before a sharp pain hit the back of his head. He groaned, vision growing blurry as he dropped down to his knees, his legs giving out from under him. He didn’t understand, until the one in the blue mask hit him once more with the crowbar, knocking Diego fully unconscious. For a faint second before he hit the floor he felt a trill of fear running through him. They had lost, he had lost. He didn’t know if his family would make it out or not but he hoped they were okay.

Hazel easily lifted him up, putting Diego over his shoulder while Cha-Cha was distracting the others. They had someone Five was close with now, someone that would know where he was or at the very least someone who would be a good lure for the kid. It was a win in his book. Quickly, he taped Diegos hands, wrists and mouth shut before he dumped him into the truck and began the long drive towards the Motel the two assassins were sheltering at for the mission.

Diego woke a little while after the car was already stopped and parked, his eyes narrowing and blinking furiously as he tried to adjust to the darkness. Where was he? He didn’t remember much outside of being shot at, he didn’t remember being knocked out or even fighting with Allison. He groaned and shifted around, already able to feel the tape pulling on his skin. He kicked out, hissing in pain as his foot thumped against the side of the car without doing much damage. It was an older model he was stuck in, made of hard steel and near impossible to break down from the inside. He tried again, kicking over and over until he felt a section give, a smirk playing across his lips as he knew he had found where the tail light was. One more kick before it was off and he was free to search for the other one, punching until his knuckles were bloody from the search. He let out a shaky breath, blinking a few times as he tried to push down the heavy feeling that was starting to sink into him. The darkness, the inability to move… It made him want to scream. He needed to break the other light, at least to be able to see outside, to get a breath of fresh air… Anything was better then just laying there in the darkness.

He didn’t get a chance to break it before the trunk was opened, two faces he didn’t recognize staring down at him. One was eating a doughnut, the other looking mildly impressed and amazed at the same time. He let out an angry yell which was muffled by the tape of course before he was punched. The wound on his nose reopened, his eyes rolling up once more. He wasn’t quite unconscious again, but he was dazed enough to the point where he couldn’t fight anymore as they lifted him and carried him up the stairs to their room on the third floor. He was put into a chair and tied down, his head falling back while the two took his harness and shirt from him.

The assassins dropped his things, taking each knife from its spot on the harness while they checked his arm. Sure enough, he had the same tattoo as Five. It was proof enough that they could use him. That he would be helpful, willingly or not. Cha-cha slapped Diego to wake him, making him groan and spit up a mouthful of blood at her. She side stepped easily, eyes narrowed into a glare towards him. He chuckled softly, head tilting to follow her movement.

“Where is he? Where’s Number 5?” She demanded, making Diego shrug.

“No idea. I ain’t his babysitter.” He growled softly, pulling on the rope testingly. It was strong, well knotted.. He would need a bit of time to undo it. Time he didn’t think he had. He hissed as his knife came down across his collar bone, a thick line of red appearing almost instantly. He spat at them once more, eyes shining in defiance. It went on for hours, the cuts. The punches. And then they switched it up, they wrapped a wire around his neck and cut off his oxygen. It almost made him laugh as he sat there, completely still aside from the slight pained sounds that escaped each time the wire was shifted. He already felt the warm blood mixing with the already dried. His throat would be fucked when he tried to talk again. He only laughed when they pulled it away, they clearly hadn’t done any research on his family. Soon, the two decided to take a break. They pushed his chair to a corner, a heavy bag placed over his head. He didn’t struggle even as his heart began to race again, that sense of heaviness growing once more in his chest. He dropped his head, trying to listen as the two spoke but unable to make out any words. Instead, he focused on keeping his breathing even, just like mom had taught them. This wasn’t the time to panic, he would never get out if he started to panic now. They were at a hotel, that much he could pick up, not a very good one. No one had come running for his yelling yet so he assumed no one would no matter how loud he was. He was in trouble and he knew it, he knew it was a slim chance he would make it out of there alive.. A slim chance he would see his family again. He hated that idea, he had so much he wanted to tell them that he hadn’t even thought about before.. They had spent so long apart, so much bad shit had happened to each and every one of them and now.. Now if Five was right they were about to waltz into an apocalypse? It would have been a great time to get closer with them again, or die trying.

He let his mind race, unsure how much time had passed as he sat there. It felt like hours, like maybe they had just left him there but he knew that wasn’t the case. Even if they were done for the night they wouldn’t just leave him out in the open like this. Not when they still needed him around. He groaned softly, head falling back once more. He was exhausted, wanting nothing more then to rest for even a few minutes. Sadly for him, that wasn’t what they would let happen. The bag was pulled off his head, making him squint as the light hit them painfully.

“Fuck…” He hissed softly, feeling the harsh slap that crossed over his cheek. He could already feel the bruise welling up, like in so many other spots. “I fucking told you already, I don’t know where he is. He don’t tell anyone shit about what he does.” He growled, his hair being yanked back. They didn’t know how to break him, but they couldn’t let him off the hook that easy. And they needed him alive when Five came, they knew he would. He had broken his contract to come and try to save his siblings.

“Tell us everything you know about him then.” Hazel said simply while Cha-Cha grabbed another knife, most of them already being covered in blood. He closed his eyes, feeling sick just from the sight of it. It was amazing how fast the sight of those knives had gone from being comforting to being a sick reminder of the danger he was in. He bit back a whimper when he felt it piecing his flesh, the blade sliding down from the nape of his neck to his belly button. He regretted keeping them as sharp as he did, it was an easy drag. Skin cutting like butter as the blood flowed freely, he blinked a few times to push back the tears that were gathering in his eyes. He had been in bad spots before, but nothing like this. Nothing that had dragged out this long. He wanted to be home in his shitty apartment, curled up on the small cot he used for a bed. He blacked out after almost two hours of the torment, not noticing as he was dragged to the closet of the room. He screamed when he heard the house keeping running the vaccum, eyes shooting open quickly. She could help him, she could get him out of there. He screamed as loud as he could around the gag until eventually he heard her footsteps fading out of the room, his eyes dark as he slammed his head into the door. A sob tore its way from his throat, this reminded him of when he was kidnapped as a child. The days he had spent with that gang before the team finally came to get him… Before he was taken from one hell and put in another. Reginald hadn’t been happy he had been stupid enough to get himself caught, and he put Diego through vigorous training for the few days after, each day ending with him getting healed up by Grace.

The next day came far too quickly and he was dragged out again. The tear stains on his cheeks were noticeable, clearing a way through the blood on his cheeks. He shook his head, snarling at them as the chair was once more put in the center of the room. He didn’t miss the relieved looks on their faces, they had messed up. They were lucky he was still there, that the cleaning lady had been so daft as to not notice he was there… He had been so close to getting away from them. From getting home free and he had missed the chance.

Instead of going for his knives this time, they grabbed a simple wash cloth. It confused Diego until his head was forced backwards, the cloth placed over his mouth and nose. His eyes widened, the faintest pang of panic crossing his face as his heart began to race. He couldn’t help it when the water began to pour on top, he screamed and breathed in a lungful of the water. It reminded him too much of the tank, the water that would fill the space while he banged on the lid, begging to be let out. How it would slowly go over his mouth until he had no choice but to stop breathing or let the water fill his lungs until he passed out. He thrashed, tearing at the ropes until his wrists were bleeding, managing to land a hit. He coughed violently when the rag was pulled away, doubling over as much as he could as he struggled to breath, to calm himself down. It went on, and on, and on until they got bored of it. Until they realized he wouldn’t give them anything. He was sobbing openly when they finished before doubling over to throw up.

They left at that, slapping him once more before they went to talk. To try and figure out the best way to put themselves on Fives radar to bring him there. Diego scooted his chair towards the door quietly, listening until he heard footsteps. He hesitated, glancing back before starting to yell, to hit his head against the table. He froze when the door opened, Klaus was standing there with a worried glint to his eyes. When he cut Diego free and got the tape off his mouth Diego warned him about the two, telling Klaus to get out as quickly as possible before he was caught. That he would catch up to him. He dropped down, opening the vent with shaky hands and getting the case out. He knocked both Hazel and Cha-Cha out before tying them up for the cops, quickly hurrying out to klaus. He panted softly, shoving his hand over his face before pulling the other in for a tight hug.

“Fuck man….. You saved my life.” Diego pulled him down the stairs quickly, wincing with every step until Klaus pulled him to a stop.

“What’s in the case?...”

“No idea. But they’re taking a nap up there, what say you we find out?” Diego laughed, his eyes wild before he set the case down. He waited until Klaus was close before flicking it open, though there was only a bright flash. He didn’t know where he was when he opened his eyes again, only glancing back at where Klaus had landed on his ass. He flinched when he heard the first bomb drop, his eyes wide and confused as every person around them seemed to get up, all moving in tandem in a panicked race to get dressed.

The war was two years long for them, two years that Diego had spent trying to convince Klaus that it was time to go home but unable to ever force him to. He saw how happy his brother was with a fellow troop, a good man named Dave. As much as Diego hated fighting there, he wouldn’t steal that happiness from Klaus. He kept an eye on them, made sure no one messed with them for their relationship.. It was good seeing his brother happy for what seemed like the first time in their entire life. He didn’t talk much, only when he needed to, only when he was screaming for medics or driving a blade through the enemies skull. Klaus had learned to not try to talk to him pretty quickly, that Diego had lost his voice and had yet to regain it. He kept to himself, the other troops trusted him with their lives but he wasn’t any of their friends. He was there at this point for one reason and one reason only and that was to make sure Klaus was happy and that nothing took it away from him, he deserved it.

They were in the barracks, shots ringing out all around them when he saw it. One of the enemy had gotten on their side, or at least someone he didn’t recognize. They were in his squadrons colors, leaving any less observant person none the wiser. He kept his eye on them until he saw them raise the rifle, following it until he realized.

“Dave!” He screamed out, lunging and shoving the other down. He had to keep him safe for Klaus sake. He was the reason Klaus was here, it was the least he could do. The piercing pain that shot up his side made him yelp out. He crashed down with a thud, the two quickly rolling him over. He felt the blood, he knew that the bullet was lodged in there. He couldn’t speak, when he tried blood bubbled over his lip.

“Diego! No no no, Diego c’mon. Medic! We need a medic!”

He felt both sets of hands on him, Daves trying to keep pressure on the wound. Trying to keep him there until the medics came and Klaus on his face, trying to keep him awake. Trying to reassure him that it would be okay. Diegos eyes were already hazy, he was losing blood far too quickly.

“It’s okay..” He managed to whisper, squeezing Klaus’ hand. “I love you.” It was probably the first time he had ever said that to Klaus, he loved all of his siblings. He would never see them again though. He would never get the chance to tell them.

Everything grew dark. His body slumped and the shouts of the others died out.

When his eyes opened again, he saw his own body and quickly glanced away. He froze though, at the familiar face giving him a warm yet sad smile. “B-b-b-b-ben?”

[cardshcrp]

hello i'm here for kisses? five times kissed?

FIVE TIMES KISSED.

@gutrage // LOGAN HOWLETT // always selectively accepting !

                                                                                                                   i.

           They don’t really get along, but paradoxically they get along just fine. If he’d wanted to get all fancy talking about it, he would have said they were foils to one another - but it wasn’t like anybody ever asked the bayou boy to get fancy when he talked, so he doesn’t.

Logan is iron, pure and simple. Battered and worn, sure, but he is no less hard for it; he is sturdy, insurmountable, a fixture of the land. Logan picks himself up after every fight, because at a certain point that’s all a man knows how to do - he endures. He keeps moving, flypaper-stuck in time, towards some distant goal. He’s a fixture, the man who’s never allowed to break, the weapon others can only aspire to be though he’d never asked for that. (None of them had, but Remy thinks Logan got one of the worst bargains.) Another battle won. Well done, well done. He goes on. He wins. He doesn’t have to pretend to be happy about it.

It hurts. It’s survivable.

Remy is smoke, the put-together dreams of a thousand and more men and women he’s never met, crushed into the mold of le diable blanc and taught to be suave and silky-smooth because it’ll get him where he needs to go. There’s flashes of a child underneath it all, because, well - maybe it’s sad, maybe it isn’t, he doesn’t hold a grudge either way - he’s never had time to grow up or figure out who he is. He gets to dream and run after those vague goals ceaselessly, chasing what-if, what-if. He simply exists, and he gets the job done, and maybe he takes too many gambles, but that’s alright too. He gets to play at being hero, gets to try and try and try again even though the world will never see him for anything other than what it wants him to be. He smiles anyway, because the devil is and always will be a gentleman.

It hurts. It’s survivable.

They don’t really get along, but they don’t cooperate any worse than with the rest of the team. It’s just that they don’t pretend that they’re the handy-dandy best of pals, and that’s okay. Remy kind of prefers it, if he’s honest, harmlessly pushing at Logan’s nerves to let him know that he does care for his teammate at least a little, and the weary acceptance tolerance he gets in return.

They spar together, fight together, live together. It’s alright. Sometimes they drink together, too, kick their feet up in the rec room, and if Remy swipes Logan’s beer once or twice Logan pops his claws maybe one less time than that.

They deflect attention in the same way, with different connotations to their names; Logan uses the lingering cloud of bloody violence he can’t seem to shake. Remy plays the aimless libertine. It works, that’s all that matters.

They aren’t looking for redemption. Sure, it’s admirable, teaching these kids to take care of themselves, putting good out into the world. But that’s not why Remy does it, and he thinks maybe it’s the same for Logan. 

He just wants a little peace.

But Remy isn’t exactly the sort that knows how not to cause trouble, so he does a little, and that’s okay too. He blows Logan kisses, flirty, meaningless as breathing to onlookers but in truth there’s affection behind them, respect because he just doesn’t bother with things like that unless he cares.

He blows Logan a kiss from across the kitchen. Logan catches it, slams it into the blender, and turns it on with a smirk.

He blows Logan a kiss when he catches him sneaking back into the mansion at oh-who-knows what hour, and he earns an exaggerated eye roll and a swat for his trouble.

He blows Logan a kiss when he tosses him a beer, and somehow that’s the only one that’s okay. Remy can’t help but laugh - he gets beaned square in the head when Logan chucks it back at him in disgust, but it’s not like anyone’s managed to shut him up yet.

                                                                                                                  ii.

           Logan doesn’t ask a whole lot of questions, and he sure as shit doesn’t answer dumb ones. It’s one of the things Remy appreciates most about him, quite possibly the best quality he could have as far as the thief is concerned. Logan doesn’t ask.

He’s the only one who doesn’t.

So maybe it isn’t too surprising that when he makes his way back to the mansion with his coat swirling ’round his legs like it’s trying to drag him down, he makes his way to the back porch. It’s summer, hot but far dryer in New York than it was where he’d just come from. There’s a game of volleyball on, or something - at least, there’s a miniature sandstorm forming over thataways. Probably Stormy disagreeing with a referee ruling.

A gloved hand settles on the rough wooden back of the rocking chair the Wolverine is settled in, and Remy’s voice when he forces it out is torn and hoarse. “Hey.”

Logan tips his head back to study him, eyes gleaming, and Remy stares back with devil red, tired and fucking pissed and defeated and maybe when the feral’s nostrils flare he figures out just how bad it is under the fog of smoke and too much alcohol, ’cause he’s standing without a word to follow Remy off to the Danger Room. He doesn’t bother trying to pretend, doesn’t say any of the stupid, congenial shit that never really matters at the best of times. They aren’t friends, they’re hardly coworkers, but they exist in the same space. It’s enough.

Remy needs to fight and make something bleed without doing lasting damage, drain the energy shaking through his bones and screaming for somewhere to go after too long held back. Logan gets it. 

(It makes Remy wonder how often he lets other people do this to him.) 

His heart aches, just a little, ’cause he kind of gets it too, even if it was a different voice that taught him why. I like it when you let me hurt you, thief boy. It’s how I know you trust me. That you care ’bout me.

“I need to use these,” he says once they’re inside and sealed off from the rest of the world, and for once he lets his coat slip from his shoulders to pool on the ground and shows Logan the knives across his body, flat-hilted and tucked away so neatly no one would ever know they’re there at all. Logan’s eyebrows twitch upwards just a bit, but he doesn’t say anything.

You still fight like an assassin, LeBeau.

The knives are too at home in his hands, like they’d never left when in reality it’s been nearly a decade, though he isn’t old by any means. He worries, just for a moment. He’s reminded quick enough that he doesn’t have to - it’s Logan. 

A breath, and he cuts loose enough that his whole body aches before he moves. His pulse doesn’t quicken - it runs for its goddamn life, jacked up in an instant better than a shot in the crook of his arm, pure energy the most deadly fuel he can use.

(It’s alright if he shakes apart just a little. He doesn’t need to stay in one piece, really.)

No place for you here, diable blanc. You better go.

Logan wrenches his left arm behind his back, quick and precise; the sound he makes isn’t a good one, but it isn’t a bad one, either. He collapses forward, bends down enough that his shoulder screams. His foot crunches direct into Logan’s jaw hard, slamming his head up and back. 

The grip on him loosens, and Remy tucks himself into a ball, rolls forward, and slams another knife down, buries it in the ground up to the hilt. Letting go, bit by bit, as much as he can. It ain’t easy.

Nine years, and he’s only just now letting go.

He drops into a slide and takes aim as he falls, lets five cards fly at once as he skids just out of reach. The impacts shake the whole room, far more explosive than he technically should be allowing to happen in a spar, but he can’t really bring himself to care. 

I will give you this, LeBeau - I’ve never doubted your love for my daughter.

Minutes slip by, heavy with hitched breaths and skinned knees and dirt smeared over sharp jaws, soft grunts as elbows and knuckles meet their mark; auburn strands drift loose, sliced away by claws skimming close. He’s not sure how long it takes before his back hits the ground, how long it is before Logan leans his weight on his chest to hold him there, enough. It’s enough. 

A low, familiar chuff of irritation, and Remy laughs, unsteady and chopped up from the pressure on his ribs, but it’s still a laugh - and then he’s crying the way he hasn’t let himself over her in nine goddamn years because at the end of the day he’d kept believing in love and happy endings like the dope he always had been. He’d wanted it, so badly, he wanted to fix things and make both Guilds happy, make her happy, show her all the things he’d done to try for a life together.

“I’m filing for divorce,” he says, and he sounds lost even to himself - he hadn’t told them yet, any of them, he’s just been the flirty jackass that didn’t follow through and fucked things over in the most grandiose fashion ever time. Logan’s face creases in faint surprise and yeah, Remy’s not shocked to see it, but he’s too busy sobbing into the dirt with every one of Bella Donna’s knives buried like grave markers for the pieces of his shitty heart all around them to talk about it.

Logan doesn’t ask, but he drags Remy up and cradles him to his chest like a child, rough thumbs running under eyes squeezed tight shut to sweep away the salt on his cheeks and a low rumble echoing uncertain but not unkind in his ears, it’s gonna be alright, Cajun, hey - yer okay, I got you, and somehow that hurts worst of all because it’s pity, and reassurance, and sympathy that he doesn’t know how to handle.

The barest press of lips to the top of his head, and he stifles the racking sobs in his palms, je suis désolé, désolé, désolé -

They don’t talk about it. It’s easier to pretend they aren’t fucked up when they don’t.

                                                                                                                 iii.

           No one knows what the fuck to do with him, after Antarctica. He’s skittish, guarded, even worse than he was already, and he’d been pretty bad. He doesn’t eat at all some days, and then he eats too much all at once until he nearly vomits. Rogue tries to hug him, and he scrambles backwards so fast he leaves a goddamn afterimage. Jean spooks him on accident; a wall gets blown out as a result. Cyke puts a hand on his shoulder, trying to be reassuring or some shit - Remy bites him till he bleeds before he even realizes who it is, and he curls up in shame about it right then and there and fucking cries, sorry, sorry. 

Nobody knows how to handle that particular bucket of crap, so they don’t.

It’s easier to leave him alone. 

And it works, or at least it seems to after a week or two, which is really all Remy has to make sure of. He smiles real big, turns on the charm, and reeks of general jackass. He’s shallow and flirty and all things Gambit, shoves their idea of whatever his quintessential Remy-ness is back into their faces, and after a month or three everybody forgets. 

(He doesn’t. It’s not like anyone fucking apologized.)

Logan is the only one who watches him, sometimes, these long, considering looks. Remy doesn’t like it, but confronting him over it would be a lot worse than just tolerating it, so he doesn’t bother. That’s the easy thing, isn’t it?

Sure, he shivers when the air conditioning blows on him directly, but that’s just fine, isn’t it? He’s still playing the hand he’s dealt. He’s useful, and he’s heroic but not really, and there’s a weekly lecture about how he could be a better person like he’s ever gonna get there. He does the work they ask him to do anyway. 

He keeps moving, because if he stops, the ice will get him.

He manages to keep it up until first snowfall. Then it turns real bad, real fast, and he shuts the door to the boathouse like a coffin lid and tapes up heavy towels over the three windows to block out everything, cranks the heater up until he’s fucking sweating. 

The soft bite of the ice still creeps in at the edges. Inevitable. Inescapable.

It takes a week and four days for him to run out of food, even with how his metabolism runs, ’cause he’s always living ready for the world to end but the boathouse is small and so was his supply.

(Nobody thinks to check on him, because it’s Remy. Out of sight, out of mind.)

Things get really bad when he starts eyeing wire caps for plastic to chew on, because all of a sudden things are real familiar in a bad way, but the day he starts thinking he might cave there’s a knock at the door. 

He doesn’t really want to answer, but he does, because he’s still got to pretend.

Logan shoves a crate full of canned goods so hard into his chest that he stumbles back with eyes wide in surprise, arms wrapping around the wood automatically even as the air slams out of his lungs. 

He blinks.

Logan rolls his eyes.

Remy remembers, then, that someone else has lived in cold and ice, and someone didn’t try to ask about it or fix it for him. Logan knows a little something about being reduced to nothing but base instinct and misery - and that is enough for Remy to toe the door closed behind him and offer him the last beer he’s got stashed. 

They visit a while, Remy chattering a lot about all the dumb shit he’s distracted himself with (so a whole lot about Star Wars Logan probably never wanted to know). There’s blankets, and hot cocoa, and things aren’t so bad while someone else is there.

Logan keeps the ice at bay. Not even nature can compete with him, Remy thinks, and he feels a whole lot better with the reminder.

When he leaves, Remy presses quick kisses to a stubbly cheek, thank you, thank you - 

He gets elbowed out of the way with a grumble, but Logan comes back two days later with another box and a twelve-pack, so he figures he didn’t mind so much.

                                                                                                                  iv.

           He goes to Japan with Logan for a mission, just the two of them, and the entire way there and through the duration of their stay, he thinks maybe he’s seeing underneath to something the man used to be. Japan is Logan’s place, in much the same way New Orleans is Remy’s place, a home by heart if not by birth. And sure, maybe it isn’t all peachy keen, but really - what is? 

He stays good, for him, throughout. Keeps his chin up, stays polite, enjoys the food and gets the work done. And maybe he flirts a little with the girls, but hey.

He’s best when he’s bad, after all.

But he fits in better than Logan expected, too - and maybe that’s part of being such an integral part of something massive, something that has roots in Japan too and beyond. He knows Logan ain’t stupid; Wolverine is sharp enough to notice locals brushing up close enough to Remy to press tribute into his hand, slide trinkets and candies into his pocket as presents and tithes. And there’s not a chance he misses the way Remy passes them back thank-yous in return. 

He might be a pariah of a messiah, but he has always been a kind prince to his people, and they have made their own customs of not-quite-welcome for him. 

Dark brows raise just a fraction the day a couple of kids pop out of fucking nowhere to latch onto Remy’s legs like he’s a damn walking hugpost or something, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He’s even generous enough not to laugh his ass off when Remy stoops to ask the girl and her younger brother their names in incredibly horribly-accented Japanese, and he doesn’t mock him for the way he slips them both candies and tucks money behind their ears before shooing them off so their crew leader doesn’t worry. 

It’s home for Logan, but there’s space for Remy too, at least for a while.

One week drags into two, two into three, and if Remy disappears some nights to take care of his business it doesn’t fuck too much with what they’re doing since it’s on hold anyway. He tones down how irritating he is, and Logan doesn’t have to fight the urge to throttle him every day. He eats like a starving moron everywhere they go, but it just makes the grandparents running food stalls and holes in the wall happy. It turns out Japan’s summers might not match Louisiana heat, but they’re damn hot all the same.

Logan catches him out in the early morning, standing in front of the open fridge in a thin shirt soaked through and streaked with grime and boxers riding low on scarred-up, bony hips; he looks like he’s been out wrestling street dogs, which isn’t really all that far from the truth. His head tips back, and he runs the chilled glass of a beer bottle over his throat, sweat pooling in the hollow of his collarbone.

He starts when he realizes Logan is leaning in the doorway, eyes tracing over him, but he doesn’t bother to explain why there’s a guilty grin creeping over his features. He shrugs and puts the bottle back in the fridge and starts pulling out eggs to make breakfast instead. Logan prowls his way in, taking his place at the table to wait. Remy cracks eggs with one hand, drops them sizzling into the skillet like it’s second nature because it is.

Maybe he presses warm lips to the nape of Logan’s neck when he passes behind him to snag a tomato, thanks for puttin’ up with me, Lo - 

And maybe, just maybe, he’s met with a soft hum of acknowledgment.

                                                                                                                   v.

           He’s a little drunk. That’s never a surprise. It’s just what he does, it’s who he is, raised up to belong in the dark corners of bars and casinos with a cocky smirk plastered on his face and eyes gleaming ruby-red promises in the shadows. He feels best where he was taught to lurk, so that’s where he goes when he’s in the worst shape. His heaven is in the back blocks, where no one judges too much when he sinks, and that’s okay.

There’s only a few people that stay up as late as he does. Logan is one of them, but Logan likes to walk the grounds, always watching out for everybody else while he maps out his territory because he’s damn good at that. Remy likes to slip away and come back without a trace. 

Some nights, like tonight, their paths intersect.

“Smells like ya drank the whole damn bar,” Logan says, gruff and accusatory and maybe a hint of worried underneath, and Remy smiles smooth and bourbon-slick back at him ’cause he isn’t far from wrong, not when he’s the sort of man who can drink a fifth of Johnny Walker and saunter away from the table with everybody else’s life savings stuffed in his pockets.

When he drinks like this, he makes lots of bad choices, but he isn’t wasted tonight even if his head is pounding in protest. Not that it stops the bad choices, apparently.

“N’importe,” he says, and crooks his fingers at Logan, c’mere, c’mon. “Venez ici, cher?”

Logan’s lip curls a bit in amusement, but he steps forward anyway to steady him, slipping an arm around his waist and taking some of his weight; but that’s not what Remy needs, not when his heart is heavy and tired of pretending it doesn’t care. 

Remy LeBeau has always been doomed to care, and that’s hardly going to change when someone deserves far more than they receive as is. 

“I like you,” he drawls, and Logan strangles a sharp laugh, eyes glinting yellow in the dark when he turns his head to the thief, sharp planes of his face etched out in shadow. “Yeah? That why you blew up the last beer yesterday?”

Remy sighs, because of course Logan can’t make things easy, and he twists around, scarred fingers skating up a hard jaw and noses barely bumping together; breath heavy with whiskey and blue curaçao, he kisses him in earnest, slanting a too-warm mouth over surprisingly soft lips and coaxing him to respond, oh please please, heartbeat pulsing low in his ears.

“I like you,” he says again, licks it into Logan’s mouth like he’s giving him a precious little secret because really he is. He doesn’t bother justifying it - there’s a hundred reasons and none at all, because that’s just how this shit works, and he’s not the one writing the book or he’d have gotten over it a damn long time ago. “I really - ” A lingering bite to Logan’s lower lip, a soft exhale a lot like giving up. “Mean that.”

He breaks it all open, lets the feelings push up against Logan, a whole lot of heartache and want; lust tempered with respect; the way he thinks missions go better with Logan there; trust, a thief’s most treasured commodity; the genuine pleasure he has when they’re draped over the couch and Logan lets him prop his legs up in his lap and swipe his beer for a sip; all of the things that had built up one by one over the years when Remy wasn’t looking until he couldn’t possibly look away anymore.

It hadn’t been like he expected a whole lot, at least. Logan’s looking at him kind of like he just doesn’t know what to say or do when he pulls away, and that’s fair too. Remy ain’t mad. He waits, thumb drifting over stubble, but Logan is frozen there with kiss-parted lips - unsure.

Well, his chances hadn’t been great.

He cracks a little bit inside, but that’s okay. He’s used to it. He figures Logan is, too. 

So he picks up the pieces of his head and flashes Logan a brilliant smile, already turning to walk away steady as anything, hand raised in a lazy-ass wave because he can still fake it. He’s real good at that, closing off his heart and mind, playing the role. 

They’re both real good at that.

“Sorry, Wolverine,” he calls, voice measured, even. Thieves are good liars - one of the first rules ever made, isn’t it? “I think m’drunk.”

He doesn’t turn around. If Logan can smell the salt on his cheeks, he doesn’t want to know.