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damn-stark · 2 years

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Chapter 4 Heart to heart

Chapter 4 of Moon Star

A/N- I hope you guys like this chapter

Warning- Violence, blood and weapons, swearing, angst, FLUFF, Khonshu,

Pairing- Marc Spector x daughter!reader

Episode- 1x06

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

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There it was, a strong surge of power that hit your veins. It pumped blood to your heart and made it pound with excitement. Basked every muscle in your body and added more strength. While your mind got louder, felt somehow…occupied, like an added weight.

“Rise!” You hear Khonshu’s voice exclaim.

You feel your head rise, feel a soft fabric wrap around your legs and all the way to your torso. You feel cold metal weigh down both arms, you feel it wrap around your waist and biceps.

And then more power pumps through your muscles.

“Rise! As my fist of vengeance!” Khonshu proclaims whilst something weighs down on your back. “As my Moon Knight!”

Lastly something falls over your head and a shadow casts over your eyes.

You then slowly begin to lower your head to check out the white suit that wrapped around your body; unlike your fathers, your arms are exposed, you carry no sleeves, just gloves. You also carry more gold, like, gold cuff bangles around your wrists, thick gold cuffs around your thighs, and golden boots.

Like your father though, you did carry a cloak and hood that covers your face, as well as a mask, but you don’t feel it cover all your face, just from the bridge of your nose and upwards.

It was…it was amazing.

“Y/N,” Layla calls in disbelief.

You swallow thickly and look back at her with faltering confidence. “I’m doing it for him.” You say before returning your gaze to Khonshu. “This deal only works until he’s alive. I’m done after that.”

Khonshu hums, and then turns to smoke and disappears. Yet he isn’t completely gone because you can still feel his presence in your head.

“I’ll be back,” you assure Layla and stride away from her to walk into the main room once again.

Now albeit, those other avatars that had been standing guard, weren’t standing, their bodies were on the ground, and Harrow and his people were trying to leave. With them, was the crocodile Goddess you couldn’t keep from Harrow's reach, the devourer of the dead, Ammit.

As you make yourself known and walk down the steps of the platform to block the exit, Harrow, his people, and Ammit all stop and look up at you.

“Khonshu,” Ammit says without even acknowledging you, “time has been cruel to you.”

Instead of coming out from smoke Khonshu talks through you. You can feel him taking control, it’s…it’s a weird weight and sensation that’s pretty hard to grasp.

“Indeed,” you move your mouth, but hear his voice. “I cannot allow you to proceed.”

“My path is set,” Ammit responds. “Same as anyones. I'm here to bring balance.” She begins to walk around you, making Khonshu move your head so as to watch her while he snapped back.

“You speak of balance, yet you choose him. Your avatar is a sinner.”

“You’re jealous of his loyalty,” Ammit rebuttals.

“Loyalty at what cost?” Khonshu spats. “An empty world for your disciples to inherit?”

“Don’t listen to them,” Harrow interjects. “They only want to keep you bound.”

“Oh, Khonshu,” Ammit adds. “For a God, you are low on faith.”

“You’ll never learn,” Khonshu counters and seeps back to your mind, letting you take control of your body again to fight Ammit.

However, just before you can form a golden sword from the bangles on your wrists, Ammit turns and whips her long reptile tail and throws you back across the room.

“Catch yourself,” Khonshu yells at you in your mind.

You scoff, and swing your arms around as you use your weight and powers to stop yourself from hitting the wall. Yet the speed of how fast you were swung does make it harder to land swiftly though, so you do lose balance and stumble. Yet before you hit the ground, claws come out of your gloves much to your surprise, so you use that and dig them in the floor to proceed to run on your hands and feet fiercely until you gain your balance and break into a sprint on your feet towards Ammit.

Right away as you get close she swings her arm to catch you by the throat, but you throw your head back and slide on your feet past her. You then spin around on your heels and don’t fret to charge at her again.

Ammit tries to grab you again, but you form your sword from your bangles and swing at her hand as you once again slide down past her. And this time you actually manage to slice her palm.

Ammit growls and swings her tail again and manages to throw you to the stairs. She then proceeds to stomp over to you to pick you off the ground and slam you onto the wall.

“Tell me to spare you and I will,” Ammit says.

Once again Khonshu emerges and makes you feel a tension in your body.

“I choose obliteration over mercy,” he counters and goes back, letting you groan from the pain as Ammit slams you back to the wall.

Albeit, it’s because of her action that you grow angry, and go off that blinding and blood pumping energy to pull the claws out again and scratch her across her neck as she pulls you towards her.

Ammit grunts and her hold on you falters, letting you begin to throw your elbow at her face multiple times before you use your claws to begin stabbing her shoulder over and over again.

“You stupid little girl,” Ammit yells out and tries to throw you away, but since she’s so much bigger than you, you swing your body around her arm, and hop off her arm to get on her back and then snatch your own cape off your back to wrap it around her throat.

“I know this won’t kill you,” you grimace with a mischievous smirk. “But it’s a hell of a trick.” You snicker and throw your hand out to form your sword and then push yourself off her back to swiftly land on your feet.

Ammit turns around quickly and shoots you a furious scowl before she charges at you. Rather than running away, you get in a fighting stance and raise your sword. Just as Ammit was getting close she swing her arm again, and you slide past her once more. Just as you turn around to face her, you snicker and grab one of your gadgets that had been hidden on your belt thanks to Khonshu and his magical suit, so when Ammit turns she thinks you’re going to charge at her or use your sword, but you actually throw an explosive at her face.

When the gadget hits the tip of her mouth it goes off and makes her stumble back towards the stairs behind her. You know you couldn’t kill her or get rid of her this way, but you still charge over to her. And just as you get close you flip your sword around in your hand and jump off your feet to try and puncture your sword in her chest.

Albeit just as the tip of your blade is going to hit her, Ammit suddenly disappears and causes you to crash into the steps.

“Harrow,” you say and push yourself to your feet to turn and look for him around the room. Yet he isn’t here anymore, nor are his people.

“Stop,” you hear Khonshu in your head. “I feel him. I feel your fathers presence again.”

You stiffen, and just before you can say anything, Sand then begins to rapidly spin around your feet and the grains cloud your view. All of a sudden you’re then being lifted off the ground.

“Wh—” you gasp. “What’s going on?!” You question Khonshu.

“We’re going to your father,” Khonshu deadpans, and then you’re being flown in the air and brought out of the chamber, and thrown outside into the night sky.

Layla crosses your mind, her well-being, but you figure now it’s too late to go back for her, and well it doesn’t seem like Khonshu wants to turn back. Moreover, the further you get, the more you’re fascinated by the night sky; the bright white streaks as you fly past stars, the shining moon that took the sun's place, and the sand that seems to glimmer from above as the moonlight hits the grains.

Flying also feels almost freeing. It’s a feeling you like, just like…everything else. It’s true. It may be wrong to admit, but you like the power, you like feeling strong and being so. You like everything that Khonshu provides.

What would make it better is not having him in your mind, but you know that’s not part of the deal for anyone. And, furthermore the great sensation is only a temporary feeling for you. Because as you land on a rock formation just across the cave where you had left Marc, the night sky turns back to day, your suit disappears and that weight is pulled off your body, leaving nothing but silence.

“It was a very short run,” Khonshu adds as he forms himself beside you. “Little wolf, but, I can say that you were a fierce fighter. It would make your father proud.”

You scoff and sit down to drop your head and wait for your father to come out. “Thanks,” you say a bit dryly.

“Perhaps the day will come where you and I will join forces again,” Khonshu adds, causing you to glance over at him with curiosity, and actually finding yourself looking forward to it. You just don’t say it and keep quiet to wait for your father in silence.

You wait and wait until it’s his voice you hear first. “Y/N?”

You pick up your head and see him walking out of the cave in his Moon Knight suit. He takes his mask off and looks in disbelief to see you there sitting at the bottom of the rock formation.

“Pa?” You mumble in relief, and feel your heart skip a beat before you push yourself off the ground and charge at him with tears clouding your eyes. “Pa!”

Before he can ask anything, once you reach him, you throw your arms around him and wrap him in an embrace that takes him by surprise.

“Pa,” you mewl and clutch onto him with all your strength. Marc draws in a short breath as he’s still stunned; it’s just hard to believe the soft tone of your voice as you call out to him, he can’t believe that you’re hugging him by your own will. Most importantly he can’t believe you’re crying.

“I thought…I was never going to see you again,” you murmur and pull back to face him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Marc snaps away from his surprise and cradles your cheeks. “What are you sorry for?”

You sniffle. “For acting the way I did. I…I was mad. I didn’t mean it. I…” before you can finish you’re wrapped in an embrace, and this time it’s him who grabs onto you like if he’s the one who’s afraid you’d disappear…which in his defense he was.

It had happened once already.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, okay?” He says as he caresss the back of your head. “I-I messed up. It was me, not you. I’m sorry,” he whispers in a quivering voice. “I love you. I love you so much baby.”

A wobbly smile tugs on your face before you dig your head in the crook of his neck. “I love you too.”

Marc grins and presses a kiss on the top of your head before he pulls back and rolls his eyes back, letting Steven emerge, and changing into his suit.

“Y/N!” Steven exclaims as he keeps his hands on your face. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

You giggle and grin at him. “I’m glad you’re okay, Steven. I was scared I lost you. The both of you. Never do that again, I don’t know what I’d do without either of you.”

Steven smiles softly, but he then begins to furrow his eyebrows. “How exactly are you here? Where’s Layla?”

You stiffen and begin to smile nervously. “Yeah, Layla is in the chamber. Or was. I got here by, uh…flying,” you whisper the last word, causing Marc to remerge and counter.

“Excuse me what?”

You pull away and nod. “Yeah. I kinda turned to Moon Knight for a moment.” You continue to whisper

“Hm?” Marc hums in question and begins to look upset. “Khonshu did what?”

You shake your head. “No. Me. I chose it myself. But!” You exclaim. “Only for a bit, only to help him fight Ammit until you came back! And I had fun! That’s gotta count for something, yes?” You bat your lashes and your dad glares at Khonshu past you.

“Khonshu,” he calls and walks past you to reach him on top of the rock formation. You follow him and catch Khonshu deflect Marc’s true intentions.

“I knew you’d miss me.”

“Don’t mess with my daughter again. That was the part of the deal,” Marc rebuttals seriously.

Khonshu turns to face your father and you, and continues to deflect. “Ammit has been freed. Y/N and I tried to stop her but she ran. Marc Spector…” he leans in. “I need your help.”

From one moment to the next Steven emerges to interject. “Ah, just curious about something. How is this whole new arrangement gonna work then?”

“Steven Grant,” Khonshu grumbles. “I was not speaking to you.”

“Yeah, all right,” Steven says. “But we do come as, like, a package deal now, so you are gonna have to deal with me. And,” he lifts his finger. “We did just save your life, so you’re welcome for that.”

Khonshu shakes his head. “Your little wolf saved my life,” he corrects Steven.

You nod proudly. Steven peers back at you, so you rest your foot on a rock and offer him a smirk whilst you click your tongue.

“Anyway,” Steven continues and moves back to sit down on the rock your foot is on. “But I do think that you should answer my question though. How’s this deal gonna work?”

“You would negotiate now, with so much at stake?” Khonshu questions him in annoyance.

Steven chuckles. “Well, we did learn from the best, you silly old bird.”

Khonshu groans. “I will release you both. You have my word,” he assures him.

Steven hums and crosses his leg over his other one and waits. Khonshu seems to gather what it means and sighs before he continues to add more. “And I will leave Layla and Y/N alone.”

You swallow thickly and find…displeasure in that. Kind of.

“I like the sound of that,” Steven says and gets up. “Good. Glad we got that all sorted out. Now, how the heck are we gonna get to Cairo?”

“You forget, little worm,” Khonshu retorts. “I am still the God of the Night Sky!” Sand begins swirl around Stevens feet like it did with you, however, Steven panics.

“All right, you know what? I think you can take this one, Marc.”

“Hurry up, idiots!” Khonshu exclaims before Marc returns.

Once he does he offers you his hand. “Grab my hand,” Your dad says.

It would be way more cool if you could be the one flying too. Yet. You can’t anymore, so you take his hand and he pulls you to him, and then pulls you up so you can wrap your legs around his waist before he suddenly jolts off the ground and begins to fly away in disguise of the night sky.

When you begin to approach the chamber of the gods you can see the purple hue tainted in the sky, you can see Ammit now towering over the pyramid eating the souls they had already killed. And on top of said pyramid was Harrow. Yet your father doesn’t take you with him towards your common enemy, he flies down to the ground by the pyramid instead.

“Find Layla,” he orders, and sets you down on the ground before he flies off again without letting you protest.

That’s probably for the best though.

Nevertheless you rip your gaze away from the sky and turn to head back towards the entrance. Just before you could go into the rubble though, the woman you’re looking for walks out in a cool fighting suit as well.

Layla’s albeit was different, it was like a white dress with gold armor, and gold pants under. She carries gold accessories, and in the middle of her necklace was a scarab. She looked incredible.

“Y/N,” she says in surprise and studies you for the suit you had on before. “What happened? Are you okay?”

You study her and smirk. “What happened to you? Was it Taweret?” You ask as your eyes go wide. “Did you accept her proposal?”

Layla nods stiffly. “Only for now,” she lets you know. “Just to help take down Ammit.”

You begin to grin. “That’s—cool. You look awesome!”

Layla smiles softly. “You did too. What happened?”

You sigh. “Khonshu let me go, he fulfilled his promise, he helped my dad.” You share happily.

Layla lets out a relieved sigh and she nods before she turns around to look up the pyramid. “That’s good. That’s very good. Where is he now?”

You glance back and reveal, “fighting Harrow. I tried to stop Ammit, but she escaped before I could do anything.”

“It’s okay,” Layla assures you and turns to face you again. “Hang on, we have to help the people down in the city.” She then proceeds to throw her arms out and golden wings come out from behind her.

Wings! She had wings! She’s so damn lucky. Now all you’re left with are your boring gadgets. No cool sword, no cool armor, nothing. Damn….

Now all you can do is cling onto her too and have her fly you down to the ground just like Marc did. And just like him she flies off and leaves you alone.

“So awesome,” you grumble to yourself. “Yeah. Leave me, powerless me, defenseless against soul sucking cultists.” You begin to jog to where the people are running away from and continue to complain. “Oh, y/n? Where is she? Who knows, she can’t fly so I left her,” you huff. “Now I’ll take my sweet ole time getting there.”

You proceed to do as you say considering they have powers and you have nothing left but a few gadgets. They can fight Harrow and his men without you for some time.

Not to mention, just before you can turn the last corner left before you can reach the plaza you can already hear the commotion, bullets and breaking glass. No one seems to be concerned. Then again it probably does make your fathers life easier if you’re not in the way, if you’re slowly making your way there and accidently bumping into someone.

“Sorry,” you tell them mindlessly even if they might not understand you, and walk past them without noting that they seem too calm for people running away from all the calamity.

“Wait!” They call; and expecting they need help, you turn. You let them walk towards you and wait for what they needed to say.

Albeit rather than telling you something, they forcefully grab your wrists and a searing pain suddenly slams into your entire body. It almost paralyzes you, but you muster the strength to slam your head on their nose, causing them to yelp out and let go of you to stumble back.

In that moment as you stumble back yourself, you figure out that they were Harrow's people. You can’t see their tattoo but there’s no other explanation. He was trying to read your scales—no he was trying to kill you.

You scoff and look down at your wrists in slight disbelief before you then use your raging anger and charge at them to throw your leg out and kick them back.

The person slams into some tables and groans. Before they have a chance to defend themselves you grab the side of their head and slam it to the table's surface so hard they knock out in that instant.

You might be powerless, but you aren’t fucking defenseless. Fuck those fucking hypocrites.

“Fuck you,” you spat at the body and then shift around to try and continue towards the plaza.

Alas, once again before you can make it far, this time you’re suddenly tackled to the floor from behind.

“You’re the daughter aren't you?” They ask by your ear before they pick themselves off you and flip you around so you can face their scarf covered face.

“What's it to you, bastard?” You scowl and try to kick him back, but he then knees your stomach, making you immediately stop and groan as you feel like you were paralyzed.

“Let’s see how well he can stop Harrow if you’re dead,” he hisses and then gets on his knees at your side to grab your wrists, so three more of his friends can come and hold down each one of your limbs. “Hold her down. She’s a fighter.”

Once you’ve somewhat recuperated from the knee to the stomach, you begin to squirm and try to thrash around. “Let me go!” You bellow. “Let me go!”

The man with the scarf around his mouth and at the top of his head proceeds to read your scales, causing you to hesitate so you could watch what came out.

And much to your misfortunate the scales move rapidly at first before slowing down and reading as unbalanced.

“No,” you whisper in disbelief since you know what follows. “No. No!” You cry and continue trying to fight them off. “Let me go!” You then scream at the top of your lungs, but the man continues to tighten his grip around your wrist, making that searing pain return.

This time albeit that pain leaves you paralyzed. This time you can’t find the strength to fight back.

However, before they can…take your soul, and before you could suddenly die, a tip of a gold dagger gets impaled through the man’s eye and causes him to immediately stop from killing you.

Two of the three people who held you down let you go to get up and run off, leaving only one left who keeps your other wrist down. She tries to continue what the other man was doing, but you swing your other arm and punch her square in the face, making them fall back.

Rather than following after her and knocking her out, you get on your hands and knees and begin to pant as you think about the fact that your scales were…Unbalanced? They were unbalanced. That means….that….

Your breathing begins to get harder to catch, it starts feeling like your heart is going to come out of your chest. You begin to feel hot, and your thoughts begin to race. You try to calm down, but you then feel a hand on your shoulder and end up throwing yourself forward to get the hand off you.

“Let me go! Don’t fucking touch me,” you seethe and push yourself up whilst you pull out your dagger.

“<Y/N, sweetheart, it’s me. It’s just me,>” you recognize your father saying to you in Spanish.

And when you lift your gaze you see him slowly trying to approach you with his mask off.

“Pa?” You whisper and can’t help but let out a soft whimper before you both run to each other to wrap one another in embrace. “They…they tried to…they were about to…I—”

“<It’s okay, you’re okay,” he cuts off your stammering, and caresses your back as he holds onto you just as tight as before. As if it’s the first time seeing you. “I’m here now. I got you.>”

He then pulls back and cups your cheeks to study your face as if it’s the first time he’s seeing you.

“<My girl,> he continues to whisper softly in spanish. He then proceeds to offer you a soft smile and wipes away your tears.

“Let’s go. Where’s Layla?” You ask and break the moment.

Your father nods and pulls away, letting you pass him to face the plaza in hopes you’d catch Layla fighting, but all you hear is the sound of chaos.

“You know I may not have powers anymore,” you mention and don’t touch on what just happened, instead you begin walking ahead. “But I am still useful. I mean I did leave some stuff at home, and some things are untested, but Layla has taught me to fight, and well….I picked…” you trail off when you don’t notice your dad following at your side. When you look back you notice him staring down at the dead bodies he left behind of the people who had wanted to kill you.

“Pa? What’s wrong?” You ask in confusion.

Marc turns around and shakes his head before he runs over to catch up to you

“What were you saying?” He asks.

You glance over at him and narrow your gaze briefly before you just shake your head and just leave it for later. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll tell you later.”

Your dad nods, and once you walk out of the street you see Layla helping people out of a turned over van.

“Layla—” you try to call, but then Harrow's voice cuts you off.

“Had Ammit been allowed to rule,” he says and then begins to shoot his power from his cane to your dad, causing him to cross his arms over one another to block the beam of power. “Young Randall’s life would’ve been saved, your family would’ve been happy. She need only remove one weed from the garden.” He grunts, and his power begins to push your dad back. “You.”

Harrow's power falters, letting your dad grab a dagger to try and throw it, however Harrow manages to stop him with his power and begins to hurt Marc, getting you pissed.

“Let him go!” You bellow and pull out your dagger to throw it at him. And this time you actually hit his arm, making him groan and stumble back.

When he catches his footing Harrow then looks over at you and shoots you a piercing glare. “Your scales lack balance!” He snaps at you.

You grab your last paralyzing gadget and prepare to throw it at him, but he then swings his cane and shoots his power at your chest, making Marc yell out as you get thrown back. “No!”

When you hit the ground, you’re a bit dazed by the pain, but you do hear running before there’s an explosion and screaming.

“Fuck,” you grumble and ignore your pain to push yourself up, feeling yourself stumble a bit before you find your footing and blink repeatdly to clear your blurry vision.

However, that’s when you see two people with big guns approaching you. You notice one of Layla's wings trapped under your dad's dagger. And lastly see your own dad on the ground as Harrow stops at his side to slam the end of his cane on his chest.

You instinctively try to run over and help, but the men force you back with their guns, forcing you to watch as Harrow's power shoots at your fathers chest, bringing closer to death.

“Put your hands up!” One of them shouts at you.

You rip your eyes off your dad and do as they man say whilst you force tears to your eyes.

“Please, I just want to go home, I lost my father,” you slowly begin to approach them as they watch you cry. “One of the people said my scales were balanced please—”

“Where are your scales then?” The second man demands to know, making you look down at your blank wrists. Shit. Right.

“Please,” you ignore their comment, and slowly begin to crouch down. “Please let me go. I just want to see my father.”

The men look at one another, letting you look behind them, only to notice that your father was now off the ground and killing off Layla’s attackers.

“Give us your wrists!” The first man yells.

You nod in agreement, and just before they can approach you, and before you can sit on your knees, you swing your leg under the second man’s feet, causing him to fall back. The first man points his gun at where you were and almost hits the trigger, but a gold dagger then goes through his throat and instantly makes him collapse.

When you look over you see your dad. His glowing eyes meet your gaze for a brief second before he then goes to the second guy that was trying to get up, and stomps on bashes his head on the street.

You gasp from shock and snap your eyes to Layla to share the same disbelief before you look back at your father and watch him swiftly fight off Harrow.

Harrow tries to put up a fight but your dad then ends up throwing him to the ground, and points his own weapon on his forehead.

“Dad?” You call breathlessly and slowly walk over to him.

Marc takes his mask off and doesn’t look over at you, he just lets Harrow fall before he could kill him, and then looks at the weapon in his hand as if confused on what it was or something.

You try to approach him to try and figure out what’s going on in his mind, but he proceeds to drop the cane and slowly turns around. You meet his gaze and swallow thickly before you avert your gaze and step aside.

It’s not that you were scared of the gruesome violence he displayed, you were just a bit surprised that’s all.

Regardless, you watch Steven emerge for a brief second Marc returns as he turns around again to take in what just happened.

“Dad?” You call again, and this time he meets your gaze.

“Yeah,” he say between pants.

You look down and then back at him, however before you can say a thing, Layla beats you to it. “What the hell was that?”

As you look over at her you see that she finally manages to get rid of the dagger that had her wing trapped.

“I blacked out,” your dad answers as he continues to look around.

You swallow thickly, and then hear distant rumbling. When you look at where it comes from you see Ammit and Khonshu still fighting. Actually Ammit is beating Khonshu.

“Get Harrow,” Layla says as she begins to stride forward to collect the broken cane off the ground. “I know how to stop Ammit.”

Without hesitation your dad does as he’s told, and you all then proceed to walk back to the Chamber of the Gods, where your dad puts Harrow down on a large piece of rubble.

“The power of this room will help us bind Ammit to Harrow's body,” Layla adds, letting your dad walk back to stand at her side—“Quick, grab my hand so we can start the spell.”

Without asking how this is done, you step back and let them do their thing since you figure that this just requires them.

And of course as expected when they both grab hands, they begin to chant and cause that purple hued power to come out from their hands and circle around, meeting each statue of the gods. And honestly seeing what they were doing was kind of cool, seeing the purple glow, hearing them chant was chilling in a very good way. Part of you wishes you could be a part of it too.

Nevertheless, before long, the power begins to go through Harrow's body until finally it stops and you hear Ammit talk through him.

“You can never contain me, I’ll never stop.”

The purple hue then proceeds to go off as Harrows body lays flat on the rubble, and the chanting stops.

“Is it over?” You ask and cautiously begin to approach the pair, hearing your dad grunt as he drops his head.

“Not yet,” you recognize Khonshu say, causing you to stop in your tracks.

When you snap your head to the side you see him walking over from behind Layla.

“Finish it, Marc,” he addresses your dad now. “And leave neither of them alive.”

Your dad approaches Harrow's body, and pulls out a dagger as he takes Harrow's body off the rubble to hold the blade over him, and hesitates.

“While he lives, so too does she,” Khonshu continues to say.

“I have to finish this,” your dad mutters. “If not, I’ll never be free.”

You take one step towards your father and just watch him. You don’t try to stop him, and why would you? If this is what he has to do to get rid of Ammit, then you’d just watch him do it without any protests. She’s evil, why let her live and risk her doing more harm?

Yet Layla does protest. “Marc!”

Said man glances over before he could stab Harrow.

“You have a choice,” Layla continues to say. “You are free.”

You continue to watch him in silence and just hear Khonshu argue. “The choice is vengeance. We cannot take the chance that Ammit finds a way out. She will kill again.”

Right.

Your dad looks over at him and retorts, “now you sound just like her.”

You drop your gaze and stiffen at his comment as you begin to think to your unbalanced scales.

Is this why? Because given the chance you would kill the both of them?

“You want them dead,” your dad continues to say. And now when you return your gaze to him, you see he let Harrow go to throw his dagger to the side. “Do it yourself.”

There's a brief silence before Marc breaks it, “now, release us.”

Khonshu hesitates and glances over at Layla, and then looks at you for a longer second before finally looking back at your dad and giving in. “As you wish,” he says, and then turns to sand and disappears.

Not long after your dad's suit begins to disappear too, giving off a white glow before all there is is his mundane clothes.

“Pa?” You call and walk over to him. “Is it done?”

Your father looks over at you and nods. “He’s gone,” he assures you as well as himself.

You smile at him. “Good,” you say and sigh. “Now…can we go? It’s been a long fucking day.”

Your dad chuckles and nods as he hops off the rubble and joins your side to grab your shoulder and Layla’s. “Let’s go,” he says to the both of you.

“Maybe we can stop and get some food?” You suggest excitedly.

Marc nods. “Sure. Whatever you want, kid.”

——

*SOMETIME LATER. NEW YORK*

Loud music blasts in your ears, sparks fly everywhere, lights from your computer flash, making you add one last touch on what you’re working on before you pull away and pull off your safety goggles.

“Run diagnostics,” you instruct your friend sitting across from you as you move back on your chair, and then spin around to drag yourself to your own laptop on your bed.

“On it,” Marvin mumbles and spins around in his chair to work on his laptop placed on your desk.

You pull your headphones down and click on the email you just got whilst you throw some chips into your mouth. When you open the email you see that the email address is sketchier than usual, it’s not from your usual contact.

“Okay,” you sigh and click on some things so you can try and find an IP address.

“Who is it?” Marvin asks. “A job?”

You shrug, and while you’re waiting for your results you scroll down, seeing that it is information for a job.

“Yeah,” you let your friend know. “But….” You pause and click your teeth while you read what's contained inside. “…It’s not from my usual contact.” You hum, and then feel your eyes instantly widen as you see that the payment is high, more than you’ve gotten paid for before. “Damn. It pays fucking well.”

Marvin rolls over to you and moves your screen so he can read for himself. “It pays…” he pauses and swears under his breath. “Three figures.” He snaps his head to you and queries. “Are you going to take it? Take it!””

Your computer flashes again, so you turn your screen towards you and check the results for an IP address. Yet you get nothing, it’s blocked, adding to the mystery.

“I don’t know who the buyer is,” you inform him as you continue to read the job details with your eyes narrowed. “It just says that the item is an old relic stolen from an East African region, and,” you click your tongue and slowly put a chip in your mouth. “It will be auctioned on Sunday next week. That’s a weird day.” You mumble and begin to munch slowly.

“They’re rich people,” Marvin comments as he grabs chips from your bag. “Who knows why they do what they do.”

You laugh softly and keep scrolling. “It says,” you continue. “That the goal is to take it before it gets sold because that’s the only time they’ll have it on display.”

“Name of contractor?” Marvin asks and leans closer to you.

You shake your head, “No name, or contact info whatsoever, it just says to click accept or deny.” You huff out and sit back to think of what you can do.

The obvious answer would be to leave it. You’re just starting off, it would be a risk to take it—but fuck…you did get the email for a reason…

“I don’t know,” you grumble and slam your head on your hands. “I shouldn’t take it.”

Marvin stays quiet for a moment before you hear him huff out and add on the matter. “And if this nano-tech works out, the job would be so easy.”

You lift your head to peek at him. “Do you know how long I’ve been working on that? It’s not gonna work any time soon.”

Marvin rolls his eyes. “It’s just been a year, don't be dramatic. And! You’re close I can feel it…” he pauses and points at his gut. “Here.”

You quirk your brow and groan before you cover your face again.

“And if it doesn’t work?” You question in a muffled voice. “If I get caught—”

“We,” he interjects. “If we get caught.”

You sigh and correct yourself. “If we get caught, I lose my internship, you lose your scholarship, we go to jail, my dad bails me out and then him and Layla bind me to an ushabti as punishment.”

Marvin hums and shrugs. “Is it really the end?” He probes.

Without waiting for the rest of his comment you nod. “Yes. Being stuck in an ushabti is, I imagine, like, being stuck in stone. Or like I don’t maybe a genie—”

Marvin cuts you off, “I mean you probably will still keep working off jobs. You’ll get money. And you’ll actually get more—”

“No,” you cut him off and pick your head off your hands. “I won’t lose my internship. I’ve come too far. You can’t lose your scholarship. I won’t do it. I'll pass.” You nod stiffly and close out of the email to then spin around and face the nano-tech housing unit. “I’ll work on this, finish this.”

Marvin’s computer gets a notification so he rapidly rolls over to his side of the table to read it, whilst you put your goggles back on and grab your utensils.

“Oh, oh, my…fuck!” Marvin exclaims and jumps out of his chair. “Fuck! Fuck! Yes! Yes!” He turns around and slams his hands on the table. “You did it! It works! It fucking works!”

You stumble out of your chair and look at him in disbelief. “Shut up,” you mouth breathlessly. “Shut up. Marvin.” You begin to walk over to him, and he quickly picks his laptop off the table to show you his screen that reads “trail run 102, 99% successful.”

It works. It fucking works.

You begin to laugh before you both begin to jump up and down from excitement.

“Fuck yeah,” you yell and hop over to him to embrace him. “Yes!”

Marvin wraps one arm around you, but quickly pulls back to face you. “You’re smart, you know that?”

You smirk and get all cocky. “I know I am.” You shoot him a wink.

Marvin lets out a sigh and begins to show off a mischievous smirk. “You know what that means right?” He doesn’t wait and answers himself. “You’re doing that job. You’re doing it.”

You pull back and begin gnawing the inside of your cheek as you once again begin to think about the offer. It would be good on one hand; to finally separate yourself from Layla and do this somewhat solo.

Then again it is a risk because it will be your first solo mission, and also because there's just so many more factors to worry about. And what if your scales are unbalanced because of this job, of what you do?

Then again…the job can be used to prove to your father that you aren’t a little girl anymore, that you are more than capable of doing this stuff. Because you are…

You are.

You begin to smile and without saying anything you run over to your computer and click accept without overthinking it.

Marvin gasps and puts his laptop down to then walk over to you.

“You accepted it,” he mumbles.

You nod slowly and glance over at him to slowly begin smiling. “I accepted,” you repeat.

From one moment to the next your phone begins to ring, making your shoulders jump, and causing Marvin to react for you.

“It’s them, answer it,” he whispers as if whoever was calling could hear.

You share a nervous look before you slide your phone off the table and check; noticing that it’s only Marc.

“It’s just my dad,” you sigh with relief and answer. “Hello?”

“Hey,” he immediately answers back. “Hey, Wolf.”

You sit down and sigh. “Hey, pa, what’s up?” You ask slowly and a bit uncomfortably.

It’s just awkward that’s all. Sure that day that he got rid of Ammit and was freed was a good day, he came back to life, everyone was living a bliss weekend, but after it passed, when you were back in London that went away. Everyone was reminded of what happened, how he has been ignoring Layla and you, and things just got awkward.

You are trying to work things out, he is back in your life again, but it doesn’t take away the tension just yet.

“I just,” he mutters. “Wanted to check on you. I hope you weren’t busy.”

You shake your head and slowly begin to spin around in your chair. “Nope…just finishing some work at my room. What are you up to?”

“I’m here too!” You recognize Stevens' British accent suddenly coming through your phone. “I’m here y/n. Hello.”

You giggle. “Hi Steven. What’s up? Why are you guys calling? It’s…” you pause and spin around to check the time on your laptop. “It’s early over there.”

“Well,” you hear Marc say now. “We need to tell you something.”

You stay quiet and catch your computer flash as you wait.

“We’re going to visit you in New York next week.” Your dad reveals, causing you to choke on your own saliva since you gasp.

“Someone didn’t want to make it a surprise,” Steven complains. “Is it okay though? We know it’s so sudden, but it was meant to be a surprise visit.”

You clear your throat. “Yeah,” you lie. “That’s totally fine. I’ll be here. No plans.” You click on the response from your new contact and scoff softly. “Whatsoever.”

“Good,” Marc says. “I just want to catch up, you know? Check out this very famous tech company you work at. See how you’re doing. I…owe it to you, I’ve been an ass.”

You drop your gaze and feel your frown form. “Yeah,” you whisper. “Maybe you’re right.”

Marc chuckles softly. “I am.”

You look up and in your head read the one sentence on the email. “We’ll contact you when the job is done.”

That’s super informative. Not suspicious whatsoever.

“How long will you stay?” You ask your dad as you nervously gnaw on the inside of your cheek.

“Just Wednesday to Monday,” he shares.

Great. That means he’ll be here by then. That’s fucking great!

Tagged: @broadwaytraaaaash @jasminemohmed

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batfsm · 1 year

Text

@batfam-chaos, Here you go. Putting it in three parts because it's so long.

birds fly in every direction by distracted_dragon Thoughts, Part 1:

Chapter 1)

I'm loving Tim's POV. It's so refreshing in a way. I wonder what made him use Jeffery Anderson as his pseudonym. Of course Tim would make up accounts to get his ideas out there. Of course he would.

^^ The most eye-catching thing in the alley, however, is the motionless black-clad figure sprawled atop a dumpster. Emblazoned across their chest is an achingly familiar blue bird.

Nightwing.

At the other end of the alley, three other people exchange looks and slowly approach the dumpster. Their faces are all unfamiliar, but Tim catches the glint of a gun in the hands of the person in the middle. From what he can tell, their clothes don’t look outrageously expensive. The man on the right has a tattoo on his forearm that looks vaguely like something that he’s seen on a few of Maroni’s men, but it’s hard to tell. Just to be safe, he quietly pulls his camera out from his backpack and takes a picture. He takes care to lay on his stomach, pressing himself as close to the rooftop as possible to keep out of sight.^^

Why is it always Dick Tim seems to find? Like, Jason saves Tim a lot but Dick? Tim always seems to find him in trouble. Or just getting out of trouble.

^^ Luckily, they don’t seem to notice the glint of his camera lens. Tim leans back and pushes his backpack away from the edge of the roof. It nearly knocks over a couple of empty beer bottles, but Tim manages to still them before they could make any noise.

(Was someone drinking on a rooftop? That seems irresponsible.)^^

You mean like you being on the rooftop which isn't yours, Timothy?

^^ His landing isn’t the best but he doesn’t break his camera or twist an ankle or anything, so Tim counts it as a win. He creeps towards the dumpster where Nightwing is lying and sighs in relief when he sees the rise and fall of the vigilante’s chest. Good, he isn’t dead. The two holes in the side of his suit don’t look good, though. Neither does the slowly spreading pool of blood that’s dampening the garbage around him.

“Um, hi” He begins and awkwardly tugs his hood down. Hopefully, it’ll cover his face enough to keep him from being recognized, either by Nightwing or whatever cameras are likely embedded in his suit. Taking care to warp his words into a thick Gotham accent, he adds, “I’m here to help. Are you awake?”

Nightwing grunts.

“Okay, that’s probably a good thing. Uh. Did you already call for help?”

Another grunt. This one sounds vaguely affirmative.

“Good, great,” he says, nodding. At least he doesn’t have to figure out a way to get Nightwing back to the rest of the Bats. “I don’t exactly know a lot about taking care of bullet wounds and I’d rather not get electrocuted by your suit while trying to stop the bleeding, so… I guess I’m going to go?”

Nightwing’s arms twitch and he weakly tries to push himself up, groaning.

“I don’t know if moving is a good idea,” Tim tries, but Nightwing only grunts in response.

Halfway through, he seems to give up and lays back down. The white-out lenses in his suit prevent Tim from seeing exactly where he’s looking, but something tells Tim that Nightwing’s eyes are fixed on him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay until I see that Batman or Robin has come to get you. I’ll stay out of sight, though.” Tim turns and starts to walk towards the other building’s remaining fire escape before he hesitates. He looks over his shoulder and surely enough, Nightwing is still looking straight at him. “Um. Sorry that I couldn’t help more. You do good work,” he offers meekly before turning tail and scurrying up the fire escape. His camera swings about, bumping against his chest with every step.

Heart pounding, Tim flattens himself against the roof and settles in to wait for the cavalry to arrive. He just met Nightwing. Nightwing! He also probably sounded like a complete idiot and he really hopes that Nightwing didn’t realize how young he is. Shadows can hide a lot and he tried to make his voice sound deeper than it actually is, but there’s only so much that he can do.

He clutches his camera protectively and tries to even out his breathing. If he could see his hands, he’d bet that his knuckles are white. Soon enough, the telltale rumble of the Batmobile roars in the distance and Tim sighs in relief.^^

Really Tim? Baby boy, this is going to come back to bite you I don't doubt.

^^ Monday rolls around, ushering in yet another week of school. Tim has a history quiz that he forgets about until fifteen minutes before class. He spends the last part of his English class skimming through his history notes. All things considered, the quiz goes okay. Still, Tim is all too eager to leave class and head to the library for lunch. He nearly misses seeing Jason Todd-- Batman’s current Robin-- as they pass each other in the hallway.

Jason has dark circles under his eyes and his mouth is set in a grim line. He doesn’t seem to notice Tim as they walk by each other, but that’s unsurprising. It’s unlikely that Jason even realizes that Tim exists.

The mass of students swarming towards the cafeteria whisks Jason away. In the blink of an eye, he’s gone.^^

Jason was probably up all weekend helping to look for you, Tim. You really think Jason won't notice you? He might not recognize people but he is trained by Bruce...

^^ Tim thinks of the two bullet holes in Nightwing’s torso, of the concern soaking Batman’s voice as he called out for his son. He thinks of the grim weariness on Jason’s face. He thinks of the photographs buried deep in his closet of Robin and Nightwing grinning as they shout jokes to each other, of Batman smiling and shaking his head at their antics. Of Batman standing on a rooftop overlooking the city, of the stars bleeding into his silhouette.

He hits save on the document and closes it. Writing about attacks so soon after his encounter with Nightwing seems like it would be asking for trouble.

His knees crack when he stands up to get ready for his usual night out on the town. With one of the Bats injured, he’ll need to step up his surveillance game until Nightwing is back in commission. After all, there’s work to be done.^^

Tim, Tim, Tim. I'm glad you have enough sense not to post yet but I got a feeling you'll be looked into even more than you probably are sooner than later.

Chapter 2)

You know I hate how easy it is to say Jack and Janet are bad parents. But canon wise they were very neglectful and left Tim alone alot. Yes, he went to boarding school but still...it doesn't help when fanon writes them because of how they were in canon. Sometimes love isn't enough.

^^ His phone had stopped ringing a few moments ago, but it starts up again rather quickly. Is it an emergency? Did someone die? Images of hospitals and potential accidents race through his head as Tim accepts the call and holds his phone up to his ear. “Dad? Is everything okay?” He tries to keep the anxiety out of his voice.

Without preamble, his dad says, “Some of our colleagues have been asking what you’re up to.” There’s an edge of a grumble in his voice. He’s probably upset that he had to wait so long for Tim to pick up the phone.

“Well, I’m in school right now--” Tim begins, but his dad cuts him off.

“Timothy,” his father says curtly. Tim’s blood freezes as ice fills his veins. “I mean college. You need to start bulking up your resume. It’ll look good on college applications and reflect well on us. Your mother and I have emailed you a list of clubs to choose from. Let us know what you’ve decided by the end of the week.”

He leans back against the cold concrete wall and drums his fingers on the grooves between the cinder blocks. “Okay. Thank you.”

His dad grunts. “Oh, and next time? Pick up the damn phone. It’s getting late over here and I don’t want to waste time listening to the phone ringing while I wait for you to pick up.”

“Right,” Tim says. “Sorry, Dad. I was in class.”

“Are you telling me that you’re supposed to be in class right now?” his dad demands. “What are you doing, then? Go back to class! We can’t afford to let your grades slip.”

“I’ll go back right now. Bye, Dad.”

“Bye.”

The call clicks as his dad hangs up. Tim stares at the words “call ended” blinking at him from his phone before he shoves it back into his pocket and heads back to class. His back is still cold from the cool concrete wall, but Tim ignores the feeling as he slips back into his seat.^^

Stupid Jack. Getting pissed Tim won't answer you and then getting mad he's not in class. Make up your damn mind!

Book Club! That means Jason! Yes!

^^ Tim shuffles over and obediently sits in the chair to Jason’s left. He shrugs his backpack off and gently dumps on the floor. “Yeah, I’m a freshman.”

Jason scratches at his chin. “Huh, weird. Your face is kinda familiar. What’s your name?”

“I’m Timothy Drake. I live next door to you,” he explains, resisting the urge to kick his feet like a child.

His eyes widen. “Oh, so you’re the Drake’s kid! Well, welcome to book club. By the way, do you like being called Timothy?”

Tim picks at the hem of his sleeve as he considers the question. “Tim is fine,” he decides. “Or you can call me Timothy. I don’t really mind.”^^

See, Jason knows you. He just doesn't 'know, know' you. At least not yet.

^^ think the younger son did it,” Tim says abruptly. A few heads turn to look at him. “The book mentioned that he used to help his mother with making fertilizer, but it didn’t say anything about using natural fertilizers. That means that he likely has experience in dealing with various chemicals. He could’ve laced her tea with something.”

One of the other students frowns contemplatively. “But why would Jerome kill his mother? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I don’t think that he meant to kill his mother. I think he wanted to kill his older brother so he could take over his general store. His brother had a fancy kettle in his kitchen, but the other appliances were run down. Why would he have a nice kettle if he didn’t like tea?” Tim picks at his jacket’s sleeve. “So Jerome set a trap. He laced some nice Darjeeling with something poisonous and left it in the kitchen right before his brother was supposed to arrive. It would be the perfect trap if his brother wasn’t late, allowing Mrs. Bigby to accidentally drink the poisoned tea first.”

“Don’t spoil it!” someone hisses.

Tim looks up. “I, um, was just guessing. I haven’t read the book before. Did I guess correctly?”^^

Go Tim! You are an awesome detective and you think as fast, if not faster than Bruce. (Which is so not helping my headcanon that Tim is Bruce's biological son.)

^^ This time, it takes Tim thirty-one pages to guess the murderer. Although it technically took him longer to guess correctly than with the first book, the delighted look on Jason’s face makes up for it.^^

I would be delighted also. Well after I got over not figuring it out myself and that someone did guess as we read the book.

^^ Bruce has first editions of Meredith Moore’s The Finding Game and a complete collection of the works of Kartik Mishra. Have you read either of them?”^^

I looked both of them up because of this and got a bit confused because they had another book for Meredith and a lot of people named Kartik Mishra came up on the results. I'll have to try again later on.

^^ Something doesn’t feel right. Why is Jason so interested in him? He didn’t think that he revealed anything particularly noteworthy about himself aside from his newfound ability to guess the ending of mystery novels. His mention of Kartik Mishra was far too obscure to connect him to Jeffrey Anderson, who had only cited Mishra’s work twice, so that couldn’t be it.

Tim pulls on his helmet and kicks his bike into motion with one foot. He’ll have to investigate this matter further.^^

You Tim. You pulled up on Jason's radar, before this probably, Andi won't be surprised if they figure you out because of your voice.

Yeah! Tim gets to meet his grandfather and dad tomorrow! Officially!

Chapter 3)

^^ Obediently, Tim trails Jason over to the car. A somewhat pale, balding man steps out of the driver’s side door and nods at them in greeting. He’s wearing a well-tailored black blazer and dress slacks. “Good afternoon Master Jason, Master Timothy. I am Alfred Pennyworth, Master Bruce’s butler.” He opens the door to the back seat of the car.

“He’s also the main thing keeping Bruce from accidentally burning down the house when he tries to cook,” Jason adds cheerily as he slides into the back seat.^^

I love this introduction. I love how Jason just disses on Bruce. It's so him.

^^ “So, Master Timothy. Do you have any allergies? I was planning on making cookies for you boys, but I would like to make sure that I don’t accidentally poison you.” The car turns onto the main road and Alfred meets Tim’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

His eyes are dark brown and lined with wrinkles. They look like the eyes of any normal human, and yet. It’s so subtle that Tim almost misses it, but something about the way that Alfred Pennyworth looks at Tim makes him feel like he’s able to see the storms lurking beneath Tim’s skin.

He knows. Nobody whose eyes can see that much would be able to work closely with Bruce Wayne and not realize that he’s Batman.

A gentle nudge interrupts Tim's train of thought. He glances over and finds Jason leaning back into his seat. Right, Alfred had asked him a question.

“Sorry, I spaced out for a second. I’m not allergic to anything,” Tim replies hastily.

Unfazed, Alfred turns the car onto the familiar winding road that contains both Drake Manor and Wayne Manor. “All right. And do you have a favorite type of cookie?”

He shrugs. “I’ll eat just about anything. I’m not very picky.”

“I didn’t ask what you would eat, Master Tim. I asked if you had a favorite type of cookie,” Alfred corrects smoothly. “The kitchen is well-stocked, so I can assure you that we certainly have the ingredients for whichever type of cookie you choose.”

Tim falls silent, chewing his lip contemplatively. Choosing a type of cookie is a lot of responsibility. What if Jason doesn’t like it? What if nobody else in Wayne Manor likes it but they have to awkwardly pretend that they do to avoid hurting Tim’s feelings?

“You really can’t go wrong with Alfred’s cooking. His cookies are the best,” Jason interjects. “If you want recommendations, his chocolate chip cookies are great. He makes some mean snickerdoodles and white chocolate macadamia nut cookies too.”

“Chocolate chip sounds good,” Tim decides at last. “Thank you,” he adds quickly.^^

Of course Alfred knows. Alfred, fanon Alfred, knows all.

Tim, don't worry. Alfred's used to Bruce, Dick, and Jason spacing out so you're fine.

Okay, can I eat one of Alfred's cookies? Or his food? Please.

^^ “By the way,” Jason drawls, drawing Tim’s attention back to him, “Do you like dogs?”

“Yes, I do. Why do you ask?”

The car pulls in front of the main entrance of Wayne Manor. Like before, Alfred gets out of the car to open the car door for Tim and Jason.

“Thank you very much for driving us, Alfred,” Tim tells him as he straightens up, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

“It’s my pleasure, Master Timothy,” Alfred replies before he climbs back into the car and drives off.

Instead of answering Tim’s question, Jason walks up and opens the front doors. A very excited German Shepherd darts out, bouncing in place as Jason leans over to run his hands down its sides.

“This is Ace. He’s about six years old and he is a very good boy,” Jason informs him solemnly. “Want to pet him?”

Tim nods and carefully approaches Ace, extending one hand for him to sniff. After a moment, Ace shoves his wet nose into Tim’s hand and gives it a satisfied lick. Taking this as acceptance of his presence, Tim scratches behind Ace’s ears. His tail wags slowly at first but quickly speeds up, especially once Tim starts scratching his chin with his other hand.

“You’re right,” Tim says, looking up at Jason. “He’s a very good boy.”^^

Did Alfred drive to the garage? Why not just go to the garage and then everyone gets out at the same time without wasting gas?

Ace! Ace! Ace! I love Ace! He's such a good boy and he knows Tim is not a bad person do he's extra good.

^^ “All right,” Tim agrees. His school uniform is covered in dog fur, which would normally drive his mother mad, but Tim finds that it doesn’t really bother him.^^

It shouldn't. It just means you got loved a whole lot.

^^ “Dad’s study’s this way,” Jason says, turning back to look at Tim. “That’s where he keeps all of his--”

“Hey, whatcha doing?” A door directly across from them slams open and someone with bright blue eyes, warm brown skin, and a blinding smile bursts out. Their face is oddly familiar. Tim must have seen them before somewhere--

Oh, that’s Nightwing without his mask. Or rather, that’s Richard Grayson, Bruce’s eldest son.

“Jay, you have a friend over?” He tilts his head curiously, peering at Tim. “Have we met before? You look familiar.”

Tim forces himself to unfreeze, though the sound of the slamming door still echoes through his head. Pasting a smile on his face, he extends one hand to Richard to shake. “Hi, I’m Timothy Drake. I live next door.”

“I’m Dick Grayson,” says Dick, smiling as he smoothly steps forward to shake Tim’s hand. He steps back and nudges the door closed with a soft click, much quieter than his explosive entrance. “So, what are you planning on doing?”

Jason rolls his eyes and turns to Tim. “Dick’s bored out of his mind. He has this nasty cut on his side that he got from falling asleep on a stapler. He just fell straight onto it like--”

With all of the grace of a professionally trained acrobat, Dick darts forward and lovingly gives Jason a noogie. Tim just stands there and blinks, unsure of what to do. Ace pads up to Tim and shoves his head into Tim’s hand, so he obligingly pats Ace’s head.

“Hey!” Jason protests, squirming in his brother’s grip. He does not, Tim notes, try to elbow him or use any of the combat moves that Tim knows he’s capable of.

It’s likely to protect Nightwing’s stitches, Tim notes absently. The man’s wounds weren’t one hundred percent life-threatening, but they were certainly serious. Reopening those wounds would not be a fun experience.

After one final noogie, Dick releases Jason and ruffles his hair. “In my defense, I didn’t fall asleep on a stapler. There may have been some sneaking out and alcohol involved, though.” He winks at Tim.

“He fell on a vase when he was sneaking back in,” Jason sighs. “I don’t know how, but he managed to shatter it in such a way that it stabbed him. Truly astonishing.”

Dick only grinned. “Don’t hate me because you ain’t me,” he sing-songs.^^

I should have realized Dick would be home.

Really? That's your excuse boys? Alfred signed off on that excuse? LoL it's do flimsy I'm surprised people believe it.

^^ The thought of spending time with Nightwing is a little bit terrifying but, at the same time, very cool. Tim nods and Dick beams, clapping his hands together.

“Great! Come on, I’ll show you where they are.” Despite his still-healing injury, Dick practically bounces down the hallway.

Jason and Tim follow him, albeit at a much calmer pace. Dick stops in front of a set of intimidating wooden double doors and pushes them open, revealing what must be Bruce Wayne’s study. Without skipping a beat, Dick makes a beeline for the towering bookshelves at the far end of the room.^^

You are not helping your excuse at all by acting like that Dick. Not at all.

^^ Jason snorts and turns to Tim. “Dick is a theater kid at heart. He does do some pretty good voices, if you’re fine with him crashing our hangout.”

Tim cracks a smile. “I’m fine if Dick reads.”

“Okay!” Dick chirps and leans back into the couch. Jason wastes no time in wriggling closer to Dick and leaning his head on his big brother’s shoulder as Dick opens Meredith Moore’s The Finding Game. It’s clearly well-loved-- the spine is cracked and some of the pages are dog-eared. Tim thinks of the pristine books in his parents’ office with rigid spines and unmarred pages. Most of the things in their office are too old or delicate for him to touch; he’s only allowed to handle whatever paperwork they ask him to fetch. Envious, he imagines running his hands over the pages of his mother’s copies of excavation reports before he quickly banishes the thought. Their rules exist for a reason.

As it turns out, Jason was right about Dick’s acting abilities. He does a different voice for each character and makes exaggerated faces as he speaks. Jason occasionally chimes in with commentary, but Tim mostly stays quiet and absorbs Dick’s telling of the story.^^

Dick's going to read! I have a couple of books like that I'll admit but I try to read them all. Even if it's only once.

I be absorbed by Dick reading also. In my head, they all have lovely voices.

^^ Forty pages in, Tim is getting restless. He’s been maintaining good posture for most of the reading, but his back is starting to hurt. Also, he’s pretty sure that he knows who the killer is, but it’s hard to tell if Dick will get mad at him if he voices his guess. “Am I allowed to guess the murderer?”

Jason looks over at Tim and snorts. “I brought you here to unleash you on a bunch of mystery books, remember?” He lightly boops Tim’s nose. Mystified, Tim nearly crosses his eyes trying to follow Jason’s finger. “Yeah, you’re allowed to guess the murderer. Who d’you think did it?”

Mollified, Tim picks at the edge of his sleeve as he thinks. “Probably Tom Harbott. If Casey Rogerson died, then his house would become public property and be dealt with by the state. When Harbott is cataloguing the worth of the house, then he could easily take a few items-- some of Casey’s jewels, maybe-- and nobody would know that they were missing. Plus, Harbott strikes me as kind of slimy.”

Both of the Wayne boys turn to look at him, but Tim stares at his hands instead of meeting their eyes. “I could be wrong, though. It’s just a gut feeling.”

“Jay’s right,” Dick says after a moment. “You are really good at this. Nice work, Tim!”^^

He's so amazing and smart and his brothers are going to tell him that a lot. He's also a mini Bruce in detective mode. I thought Jason was like Bruce a whole lot but Tim probably beats all his siblings in being like their dad the most.

^^ Tim takes a cookie and settles back against the couch as he nibbles at it. It’s very fucking good. He’s careful to keep crumbs from getting all over Bruce’s couch-- he wouldn’t want Jason and Dick to be on the receiving end of Bruce’s wrath if he comes home and finds his couch covered in crumbs.

Cookie in one hand, Dick picks up the story where he left off. Tim is content to sit with his hands clasped in his lap and lean back into the cushions while Jason wastes no time in using Dick’s shoulder as his own personal pillow. The floor behind them creaks as someone walks across it. Tensing, Tim immediately stops slouching.

“Hey, Bruce!” Dick calls, twisting around to beam at the man himself.

Bruce Wayne. Batman. The person who Tim has been following and surreptitiously photographing for the past few years.

The Batman suit must have platforms in it because the man before him is ever so slightly shorter than Tim expected. Granted, he’s definitely still over six feet tall, but something about the Batman suit makes him look bigger. More intimidating. Right now, Bruce is wearing a rumpled suit and has a five o’clock shadow.^^

Tim, Bruce isn't going to care. Ace probably jumps on the furniture and gets his fur everywhere so why should Bruce, Alfred really, care if you get crumbs on the furniture? People do all the time! I bet Bruce does!

Damn, Tim was just getting comfortable. He's got good instincts though. I never thought of Bruce using platforms but it makes sense. Throws people off that way.

^^ “Tim and I are in the book club together. It turns out that he’s scary good at guessing the murderer in mystery novels, so I bribed him into coming over with some of your old books,” Jason informs him, leaning back into the couch.

Bruce nods thoughtfully. “Sounds like fun. What did you read?”

“The first book in The Finding Game. Tim figured out the murderer in forty pages,” Jason replies proudly.

“Damn, that’s pretty good,” he whistles and shakes his head before he smiles at Tim. “The first time I read it, it took me twice that to figure it out. Good job, Tim. So, how are you doing? I hope that my sons haven’t been giving you too much trouble.”^^

Bruce tossing Dick out makes me laugh when he stays himself. Bruce is so proud of Tim for figuring out the mystery. Oh my gosh Bruce. You are as bad as Dick. Then again, they get it from you.

^^ “Bunch of privileged ass kids who’ve never experienced a single hardship in their lives,” Jason grumbles.

His words elicit a chuckle from Bruce. Tim reaches down and pats Ace’s head.

After a moment, Bruce’s attention switches back to Tim. “So, Tim,” he begins, “Do you think that your family would object to you staying for dinner? Alfred’s making lasagna. Or we can give you a ride home if you need one.”

Jason twists so he can nudge Tim’s leg with his foot. “You should have dinner with us, Alfred’s cooking is amazing.”

He really doesn’t want to impose, but since he’s been invited and Jason seems to want him there… “My parents are out of town right now, so they won’t mind.” Tim shrugs, smiling. “I’d love to stay for dinner.”

Jason flops back into the couch and pokes Tim with one foot. “Just don’t forget to text someone so your family doesn’t assume that you’ve been kidnapped or something,” he says around a mouthful of cookie.

“Will do,” Tim replies and shoves the remainder of his cookie into his mouth. ^^

Poor Tim. Jason's basically insulting Tim to his face. Well not him but I bet Tim took it that way.

Tim, really? You didn't text anyone...big red flag. Especially for Batman and his sons.

I love the dinner. Tim fits right in. Of course Bruce wanted Tim to walk home with Jason. They are worried and Tim speaking about how only Mrs. Mac comes around and his parents are gone is going to raise more red flags. I'm glad Tim has the rest of the family's numbers. I just hope he uses more than Jason's and Dick's.

Chapter 4)

^^ On Monday, Tim steps into the debate team’s assigned classroom during his lunch period. Multiple heads swivel to stare at him and Tim slips on his best polite smile.

“Ah, hello there!” A blond-haired boy hops off the desk he was perched on at the front of the classroom. “If you’re here for the debate team, then you’re in the right place.”

“Good to hear,” Tim replies and sticks out his hand as the other student approaches him. “I’mTim Drake.”

They shake hands. “I’m Patrick Weston. You’re the Tim Drake of Drake Industries, right?”

“That’s right.” Maintaining his polite smile hurts Tim’s face.

Patrick grins and claps Tim on his back, forcing him to hide his flinch. “Fantastic! You’ll be a great addition to the team. Come over here and I’ll introduce you to everyone. That’s Abigail Mercer of Mercer Incorporated…”

He proceeds to introduce him to several students who Tim has known since kindergarten on account of them running in the same social circles. In short, they’re all a bunch of rich brats.

“So, what kinds of cars do your parents have?” asks Hunter Smith of the Smith Corporation.

Rich, pretentious brats.

Tim does not like debate team.^^

The debate team sounds like they don't even debate anyone. Just gossip. That sucks. Poor Tim. At least he only has to deal with them twice a week.

Tim beating Jason at Super Smash Bros makes me laugh along with Alfred hearing Jason and Dick curse. Why is Dick hanging out with these two? He's off work right now because of his injury but doesn't he have the Titans to hang out with? Not that Tim probably minds....I wouldn't.

^^ Tim tries to spend a handful of hours every night keeping an eye on the Escabedo Cartel’s warehouses. Between homework, gymnastics classes, martial arts classes, working on his latest Jeffrey Anderson draft, and hanging out with Jason and Dick, he doesn’t make it out to Gotham every single night.

As far as he can tell, nothing out of the ordinary has happened at the row of the Escabedo’s warehouses on Seventh Street. Still, something in his gut nags at him. The Odessa mob and the Escabedo Cartel have worked too closely together in the past for Tim to brush them off, especially when it comes to the Odessa’s connections to apparent arms smuggling.

There is nothing to do now but to lay low and wait. And if Tim occasionally spends an extra thirty minutes at the end of the night waiting near one of the Bats’ usual patrol routes for a glimpse of a cape, well. Nobody has to know but him.^^^

Tim's going to get hurt isn't he? I hope not.

^^ Bruce, conspicuously, is missing. Dick mentions a last-minute work trip, but Tim doesn’t worry too much. The news earlier that day announced that the Justice League is fighting some giant robots down in Kentucky. They’ve dealt with worse in the past; Bruce will be fine.^^

Bruce will be but will you Tim?

^^ His parents don’t call that week. Tim bikes to school, does his homework, and hangs out with Jason and Dick. He attends his gymnastics lessons and martial arts classes. Mrs. Mac comes by and leaves meals in the fridge for him.

Drake Manor remains empty, save for Tim wandering about like a ghost.^^

They aren't coming home later that month are they?

^^ He holds his breath and snaps pictures as several people carry cardboard boxes out of the warehouse and load them into the truck. It’s impossible to tell what’s inside, but it’s probably nothing good. After all, why else would they go to the trouble of loading unmarked boxes into a van after midnight?

An unfamiliar man steps out of the warehouse and walks over to the person with the epaulette tattoos. He grabs something from his pocket and holds it out to the man-- money, maybe? Tim shifts, trying to get a better angle, when his foot strikes the metal shell of the HVAC unit to his left.

The clang rings out, unnaturally loud in Tim’s ears. Multiple heads swivel to look up at the roof, but Tim doesn’t stick around to see if they pull out their guns. He’s grabbing his things and getting the fuck out of there.

With clumsy hands, Tim shoves the lens cap back onto his camera. He tosses the entire thing into his backpack before leaping onto the next rooftop and starting to run.

Tim was born and raised in Gotham. He is intimately familiar with the sound of gunshots. Still, he’s never been the intended target before. When he hears the familiar pop pop pop of shots being fired, his heart rises into his through. He has a tiny canister of pepper spray and a Swiss army knife, but neither of those things will help him here. Right now, what Tim needs to do is run.

And so he does.^^

Shoot!! Run Tim, run!

^^ Around four blocks away from the Escabedo’s warehouses, he jumps across a narrow alley to reach the next roof. It’s a routine jump, one he’s done many times before, but then his ankle buckles when he lands and all of his weight goes onto it and he’s falling. If he wasn’t wearing a backpack, he could roll and distribute the momentum. But Tim is wearing a backpack and his backpack contains his camera.

Tim will not risk breaking his camera.

So he holds out his arms the way that he was taught in his martial arts classes so the force of the fall will be distributed from his hands to his elbows. Tim falls and hits the rough concrete roof with a thump.

For a moment, he’s dimly aware of his throbbing ankle plus a stinging knee and hands. The knee and hands are just scraped, he thinks. His ankle is another matter entirely, but he doesn’t have time to check. Out of the corner of his eye, he can just barely see what looks like a black van.^^

Well he isn't shot but dang is he hurt.

^^ By the time that Tim reaches the front door, his breathing is ragged. From his shin down, his leg feels like it was dipped in magma and then shot. He’s kind of surprised that his foot hasn’t fallen off yet. It takes him longer than usual to unlock the front door, thanks to his shaking hands. Tim manages to haul himself inside and shut the door behind himself. He leans his back against it for a moment, breathing hard, before he slowly slides to the floor

Why does everything suck? Why can’t his body just do stuff and not break?^^

Thank Ra, you got home safely Tim but you're hurt. That's why everything sucks right now.

^^ Tim shuffles around the living room with his chair, grabbing white blankets from the back of sofas. Finally, he picks a spot in front of his favorite couch and sets his sneakers next to it. He lays out the fluffiest-looking blanket before wrapping the others around him. His backpack goes under his foot to elevate it-- he’s pretty sure that he read somewhere that you’re supposed to do that-- and he sandwiches the ice pack between his foot and his backpack. An inelegant solution, but it’ll get the job done.

He closes his eyes and the throbbing in his foot abates slightly. It still feels like a bear is trying to chew his leg off, but the night’s adrenaline has long since worn off and Tim is exhausted.

Tim grabs sleep in short snatches where he sleeps like a rock until the pain in his foot wakes him up. It’s not the best situation, but it’s the only one he has.^^

At least you took the best care you can of your ankle, knee, and hands. Now to explain it to your brothers...

Chapter 5)

Oh boy.....I can just feel the worry everyone will have.

^^ Tim grabs a handful of cheerios and shoves it into his mouth as he types out a message. He doesn’t want to cancel but if any of the Waynes see his ankle, then they’re going to start asking questions. If he texts them now saying that he might not make it because he might be sick and then sends a follow up text later saying that he’s actually sick, then it’ll seem like the natural progression of illness. That won’t be suspicious, right?

Tim [10/07, 11:20 AM]: I might not make it today. I’m not feeling well, but I’ll let you know how it goes.

There, sent. He turns his phone on silent and leaves it face down on the floor next to him. With a sigh, Tim pulls the blankets around himself once more and snuggles into his nest. It’s too late in the day for him to go back to sleep, but maybe he can close his eyes for a while.^^

Good luck Tim. You're getting visitors whether you want them or not.

^^ After a minute, the knocking ceases and he can just barely hear faint squabbling outside. He would be concerned that the people from last night had finally found them if not for two reasons: first, they wouldn’t knock if they were coming to kill him and second, they definitely wouldn’t be arguing outside if they were coming to kill him.

Besides, those voices sound vaguely familiar.

The front door swings open. Hey, didn’t Tim lock the door behind himself when he came home last night?

“Tim?” Jason calls. The door swings shut with a soft click.

A second later, Dick’s voice chimes in. “Tim? Are you alive?”

“I’m here,” Tim says, not bothering to turn over to face them.

“Tim! There you are, we were worried about you,” Dick exclaims.

Footsteps approach him-- exaggerated for his benefit, surely-- and then the Wayne boys enter his field of vision. Their eyes sweep over him as they catalogue the situation. (Ah, the wonders of Bat training.) Tim blinks up at them and yawns so wide that his jaw cracks.^^

I bet they noticed the blood also, there had to be some, on the front door.

^^ Unfortunately for Tim, the spot that Jason chooses to nudge happens to be where Tim’s injured foot is.

Tim just barely manages to keep himself from shouting. What comes out of his mouth instead sort of resembles a choked-off groan or yelp. Immediately, both boys are kneeling next to him, concern written all over their faces as Tim blinks away the sudden tears from his eyes.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry--” Jason begins, distraught, but Dick quiets him with a look.

“Tim,” Dick says, voice firm but gentle. “Where are you hurt?”

He refuses to look away until Tim hoarsely replies, “Left foot.”^^

Dick is such a big brother/mother hen here. Got a feeling Bruce is going to be just as bad. Not to mention Alfred.

^^ “Landed weirdly on my foot,” Tim replies, closing his eyes. “On the stairs.” The lie burns in his chest, but they either don’t notice or choose to not push.^^

They won't push for now. Later on they will.

^^ “Hey, Tim.” Dick’s voice sounds much closer than it previously did. Tim opens his eyes and finds Dick crouching next to Jason at his side. “Your ankle definitely looks sprained, possibly broken. We’re going to take you back to the manor so Bruce can help us figure out what to do, okay?”

“Okay,” Tim mumbles.

Dick smiles gently at him. “We’re going to carry you upstairs so you can grab some of your things, all right? You can hang out at our house and we can help you call one of your relatives or family friends so you can stay with them until you’re better. It’ll be safer to have someone keeping an eye on you instead of letting you hobble around everywhere by yourself.”

Tim shakes his head. “I don’t have any relatives nearby.”

Dick tilts his head. “What about any family friends that you could call?”

Another shake of his head. Frankly, Tim has no idea who his parents’ friends are other than the people who they occasionally chat with at galas, but he’s pretty sure that they don’t count.

“All right,” Dick says. “Well, you can always stay with us, but I bet Bruce is going to need to discuss it with your parents first.^^

Bruce is going to frown and look into Tim faster than he was I bet. Tim better be ready to live at the Manor for a while, if not forever soon.

^^ Both boys’ eyes fixate on Tim’s wrists as the sleeve of his hoodie slides back with the motion. He frowns in confusion before remembering the band-aids covering the scrapes on his palms. “I tried to catch myself when I fell,” he explains and then adds, “They weren’t bleeding too badly, but I didn’t want to get the couch dirty.”

Dick’s gaze sharpens and for a terrifying moment, Tim thinks that he’s going to get mad at him. But then his expression smooths out and he nods thoughtfully. “We can check those out at the manor. Tim, I’m going to pick you up so we can take you upstairs and grab some of your things. Sound like a plan?”^^

Dick isn't mad at you baby boy. He's angry that you had to deal with this alone. No one should have to deal with cleaning up and etc after getting hurt. Not to mention the part about the couch, you probably didn't even realize, caught his attention.

The scene of Tim getting carried upstairs makes me smile.

^^ A pang shoots through Tim’s chest as the front door closes behind them with a click. As they walk away, he looks over his shoulder at Drake Manor, stately and silent as always. He doesn’t know why he expected the manor to look any different without him in it.^^.

Because it looks like you never even lived there Tim. Plus, I'm hoping, it might be one of the last times you see it.

^^ Jason pulls out his phone as they head towards Wayne Manor. “Hi, B.” A pause. When Jason speaks again, he’s slid into something resembling his Robin voice in tone, if not in pitch. “We found Tim. He’s moderately injured. Looks like he has a few scrapes and his ankle is pretty messed up, so we’re bringin’ him back home with us… No, they weren’t there. He says that he doesn’t have any relatives or family friends that he could stay with either.” Another pause. “Nope, nothing… I know, me neither.”

“Have you eaten lunch yet?” Dick asks casually as they cross over onto the Waynes’ property. “We can have Alfred heat up some leftovers for you. He made some really good lemon chicken and potatoes last night that I think you would like. He also makes really good sandwiches and I think there’s some leftover soup in the fridge.”

“...A sandwich would be nice,” Tim agrees after a moment of thought before quickly adding, “But I don’t want to impose. You don’t have to feed me.”

“Nothing urgent,” Jason says into his phone, casting a sidelong look at Tim. “Yeah. Uh huh, all right.”

Dick cranes his neck to stare incredulously at Tim. “Of course we have to feed you, buddy! You’re, what, twelve? You’re still growing and you need the nutrients and energy.”

“Cool, see you soon. Love you, dad. Bye.” Jason puts his phone back into his pocket and turns to Tim. “Sorry, did I hear you say something about us not needing to feed you? What, are you a robot or somethin’?”

“Jason,” Dick says in warning, though his tone remains light.

Ignoring him, Jason barrels on. “Last I checked, you need food. Of course we’re gonna feed you. It’s not like Bruce can’t afford it or something.”

Tim watches Jason carefully, sinking into the back of Dick’s neck. “I know, I just don’t want to impose. That’s all.”

Jason’s face softens. “You’re never imposing on us, Timbo. Now come on, Bruce is waiting for us.”^^

I love how Dick is distracting Tim from the phone call while talking about food. Something was going on there and I bet it has to do with keeping Tim.

You are not a burden, Tim. You are not. You are loved.

^^ He’s smiling, but there’s an air of tension about him. Is he mad? Maybe he’s upset that Dick and Jason decided to bring Tim back to Wayne Manor without asking first. Or maybe he’s mad at Tim for spraining his ankle? Or he could have been doing important Batman business and was interrupted. It could be any number of things.

“Hey, boys,” Bruce greets them. His eyes flit over them, presumably checking for injuries, before settling on Tim. “Hi, Tim. I heard that you had a rough night.”

Tim shrugs and tightens his grip around Dick’s neck, careful to not choke him. “I guess,” he deflects.

Bruce’s unnerving gaze stays on him for a moment longer. If Tim didn’t know any better, he would’ve sworn that Bruce has Superman’s x-ray vision. When Bruce smiles, Tim feels himself relax. “Let’s get you inside and we can figure out what to do, okay?”

They file inside the manor. As Jason steps past him, Bruce takes one of the bags from his hands and shoulders it. It just so happens to be the backpack that Tim likes to take with him into Gotham at night. The irony of Batman carrying a backpack that contains the camera that Tim has used to photograph the Bats for the past few years does not escape him.

“I’m going to take Tim over to the kitchen and get him some lunch,” Dick tells Bruce.

“All right.” Bruce nods and looks over at Tim. “Jason and I are going to take your things up to a guest room for you. We’ll be down in a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” Tim replies. There are still traces of tension in Bruce’s face and Tim hopes that Bruce isn’t pulling Jason aside to yell at him.^^

No, no Tim. Bruce is not angry with you or your brothers. He probably tried calling your parents and couldn't get hold of them. That's it. He's worried.

Jason isn't getting yelled at. He's telling his dad his side of the events and then will have Dick tell him, his side. He's finding out what happened. That's it.

^^ Bruce hums noncommittally. “That’s good. Do you mind if I take a look at your ankle? Dick said that he’s already checked for any obvious fractures, so I won’t do that again.”

“Go ahead.” Tim nods and slides his now-empty plate away from him. Stepping over to Tim, Bruce removes the ice pack from his ankle and holds it in surprisingly careful fingers.

“That doesn’t look pleasant,” Bruce says, making a sympathetic face as he examines Tim’s foot.

Tim hadn’t bothered to fully check out his ankle yet and he’s inclined to agree with Bruce. In the light of the kitchen, the purple bruises wrapping around his ankle look like some sort of bizarre ankle cuff. The swelling has morphed his foot and ankle into something resembling one of those long, tubular balloons that clowns use to make balloon animals.

Bruce glances up. “Is it okay if I touch your ankle? I won’t check for fractures like Dick did ealrier, just swelling.”

“That’s fine,” Tim replies.^^

Why did Bruce repeat himself twice? To make sure it got through to Tim that he had choices?

^^ “Did you take any painkillers?”

“Um, I took two ibuprofen last night.”

“Nothing this morning?”

Tim nods and Bruce turns to Jason, who is already rummaging around in one of the cabinets.

“Here,” Jason says at last, tossing a bottle over to Bruce.

Bruce uncaps the ibuprofen bottle and shakes four pills into his hand. “I’m going to have you take four. I don’t like the look of that swelling. This will reduce it as well as help with the pain.” He takes Tim’s hand and pours the pills into his palm.

Tim swallows them with a sip of water. “Okay,” he says. “Thank you.”^^

Wait! Didn't Tim take some this morning also? Did he just forget?

I'm glad he's going to see Leslie. Especially since he hasn't seen a doctor in years it seems.

Awe. Jason and Dick both gave Tim piggyback rides. He deserves them. Now Bruce just needs to carry Tim.

I adore how Tim just wonders if the photos have the Justice League in them as he goes into Bruce's bathroom. The bathroom has to be huge! It's got to be the size of a room. At least it seems that way.

Bruce explaining what he is doing is great. Tim might think Bruce is doing it only to humor Tim but it's because no one knows how Tim will react, it gives Tim something to focus on, and even if I knew what they were doing, I want to be told. Besides I bet you Bruce does it to Dick and Jason all the time. Same as with Tim, it gives them something to focus on besides their pain.

Distraction from the pain is exactly what Tim needs and talking about Ace in his own train makes me smile. Especially when Bruce says they need to get Alfred's permission, not his. Alfred's in charge. Bruce is just the figure head.

^^ “Boo hoo, trust fund baby,” Jason retorts.

Without looking up, Bruce remarks, “You know, you probably wouldn’t have gotten so dirty if you hadn’t decided to do the worm in the dirt.”

Jason opens his mouth to say something, but Bruce quickly adds, “Please don’t subject me to hearing my children make jokes about Dick being dirty.”

“Do you know how many tabloid covers I’ve seen speculating about your love life?” Scoffing, Jason throws his arms in the air. “Too damn many, that’s what.”^^

Jason, you are a trust fund baby also.

Oh, Ra. Well y'all are certainly distracting Tim. Even if he is getting a little bit anxious.

^^ Some of the tension leaves Tim’s shoulders, but he doesn’t bother to fix his posture. It feels better, safer, when he’s curled a little bit into himself. Bruce hums and wordlessly continues bandaging Tim’s other hand. The next few minutes pass in silence as Bruce ties off the bandage on Tim’s hand and begins working on his knee. He moves quickly, efficiently, like he’s done this before. Then again, Bruce probably has lots of experience with patching up his own wounds.

At last, Bruce finishes wrapping Tim’s knee and gives his calf a light pat. “There, you’re all done.” He announces, taking a step away from Tim.^^

Thank you Bruce for seeing how Tim was feeling and calming his brothers down. You're a great dad right now.

(I know, I know they aren't brothers yet but they are acting like ones.)

^^ Bruce nods and turns to Tim. “I’m going to carry you down to the car, okay?”

He stares at Tim and it takes a long minute for Tim to realize that he’s waiting for Tim to respond. “Sure, okay,” he says. That was… weird.

Only then does Bruce step forward and slide one arm under his knees while the other wraps under his arms. Bruce effortlessly picks Tim up and strides out of the bathroom.^^

Thank you! I was hoping Bruce would get to carry Tim and he is.

Tim, you are worrying your family but they will be there for you. I'm glad they all are going to Leslie's. Well except Alfred but he's probably making sure everything is good for Tim to stay besides the room. (Which is going to become Tim's room correct? Or will he move closer to Jason later on?)

Bruce is such a dad ordering now ruff housing and seatbelts.

Chapter 6)

From the summary of the chapter, it looks like Tim is coming home to the Manor. Which is good even if Tim doesn't think so.

I love Leslie being the family doctor and Bruce just putting on a cap and sunglasses as disguise. He can't be seen in Crime Alley but his sons can? Weird.

Dick being the one who checks Tim in makes me grin. Bruce probably knows a lot about Tim already but he has to act like he doesn't and Dick knows more because of hanging out with Tim. That and to probably protect himself.

Bruce carrying Tim makes me smile. It's like he can't get enough of it but he's also not doing it without permission. The way he wraps the blanket around Tim....it's like Bruce is hugging him as Tim gets looked over.

^^ “I was told that you injured your ankle,” she says as she takes a clipboard out of a drawer. “I’m going to take a look at that, but first I’ll need to gather some baseline health information.”

“Okay.” Tim picks at the edge of the bandage on his hands instead of looking up at her.

“I’m going to listen to your heart and lungs first to make sure that everything is functioning properly, okay?” Dr. Thompkins walks over to Tim and pulls out a stethoscope. “It has to go under your shirt and it’s going to be a little cold,” she warns.^^

Leslie is literally starting from the beginning because she does with all new patients and she has to make sure she is getting everything done correctly for future use and the case for Bruce to take Tim home with him and keep him.

^^ Dr. Thompkins looks through something in her clipboard. “All right. Now that we’ve gotten through all of the general check-up items, let’s talk about your ankle. First things first: what happened?”

“Fell down the stairs,” Tim explains. “My ankle buckled and I fell on my face. That’s how I got the scrapes, too.”

Her gaze flits to the bandages on his hands and knee. “Bruce already took care of those for you?”

“Yeah, he rewrapped them and everything.”

“Hmmm.” Dr. Thompkins writes something down on her clipboard. “All right. When did the injury occur?”

Tim shrugs. “Last night. I thought it wasn’t a big deal, so I went to sleep.”^^

Tim, Tim, Tim. You need to stop lying. They both have an idea you are. So please stop. Tell the truth. Please.

^^ Dr. Thompkins nods. “Oh, Chile sounds fun. I’ve never been. Do you know when they’re getting back?”

They’re approaching dangerous waters. Tim takes his nervousness and shoves it down, down, down. He swallows his fear and lets it sit in his stomach like a rock. “Later this month.”

“Do you have an exact date?”

“They haven’t scheduled their flight yet,” Tim says in lieu of actually answering her question. He’s well aware of Bruce’s eyes on him as he silently watches the exchange.

“And who’s watching you while they’re gone?” Dr. Thompkin’s voice remains frustratingly calm.

Tim raises an eyebrow. “Our maid, Mrs. Mac.”

“Where was she today?”

“Today’s her day off,” he replies, omitting the fact that she also has Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday off as well.

“Hmmm. When does she usually work?”

Tim tilts his head, regarding her. He thinks of his mother, her eyes as cool and unyielding as steel, toppling businessmen with poisoned words and a smile as sharp as a knife.

He takes the pain in his heart, sharp like shards of glass, and lets it slip into his words. Let him be cold, let him be unyielding. Let his raw, bleeding heart freeze over until it’s as cool as ice.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, Dr. Thompkins, but you seem to be implying that my parents were unable to raise me to be a functional human being. I can assure you that is not the case.” He smiles, leans forward. “Whatever you’re looking for, you won’t find it.”

Dr. Thompkins raises an eyebrow and stares him down. Tim meets her gaze evenly, but she doesn’t flinch.^^

Tim, you are an idiot. A lovable one but still an idiot. She's asking questions because you are young and alone. Which you should not be.

^^ Leslie’s shoulders are tense as she leads Bruce into her office, shutting the door behind them. He doesn’t usually drop by during the day-- it feels different in the daylight. Fewer shadows, more peeling paint. How Leslie is able to hold her clinic and every person that passes through it together with her bare hands, he’ll never understand.

“Sit,” Leslie orders, gesturing at the worn leather chair sitting across from her desk.

Contrary to popular opinion, Bruce does actually have a sense of self-preservation. He sits..^^

Oh, different point of view. Leslie is on a war path. Bruce is also. I'm glad the two older boys came along so Tim is distracted as Leslie and Bruce talk.

^^ “The floor in his house wouldn’t have been enough to tear up his skin enough. The stairs outside his house could’ve done it, but Dick and Jason didn’t see any traces of blood. I think he fell onto something rough, possible concrete.” Bruce pauses and weighs his next words. “He would’ve had to be moving quickly to fall hard enough to skin himself like that.”^^

So Tim didn't leave any blood on the door.

^^ He shrugs and pushes the mental image of Tim fleeing from some unknown terror out of his head. “It’s a possibility.”

“Okay.” Leslie closes her eyes briefly. “He mentioned his parents’ flights. Did you check them?”

“They’re scheduled to fly out of Brazil and arrive in Gotham during the afternoon of October 25th.”

“And Tim doesn’t know,” Leslie says softly, pinching the bridge of her nose as if to ward off an impending headache.^^

Sorry to disappoint you Bruce but Tim was fleeing from a van. So not really unknown but unknown enough.

Shit, the Drakes really are annoying. Not telling Tim? They probably won't say anything until they get home.

^^ He frowns and thinks back to what Jason told him earlier that day. “Tim doesn’t like anyone helping him with his homework. He acts like-- like he has to prove himself. When we ask him to choose something like food or an activity, he always says that he doesn’t mind and that he doesn’t want to impose. It’s like he’s not used to having an opinion. He’s nervous around me too, more so than around Jason or Dick."^^

That is because of Jack. I'm surprised Leslie isn't sending the report in. I guess they don't have enough evidence. At least Tim will be with Bruce, Alfred, Dick, and Jason.

^^ Tim smiles, but it’s a little forced. They mean well, he knows that, but Tim would really like to be alone in a room for a while. He’s been around more noise today than he has for the past week and he kind of wants to scream.^^

Poor Tim. He's not used to being around a lot of people. School is different. I'm glad the others seem to understand that he needs time and space and are giving it to him.

^^ He ducks into his room and lets out a sigh of relief as the door closes behind him. Finally. Hobbling over to the bed, Tim carefully rests his crutches against the headboard before he flops back onto the bed. As much as he’d like to take a nap like he told Jason and Dick, he does actually have things to do.^^

Sleep boy! Youy parents will probably get hold of Bruce first, I'm hoping. Though I pray they won't take it out on you but they probably will make it seem like your fault.

Yes! I'm glad you slept but that fall had to hurt.

^^ Jason jabs the button for the first floor. “It’s so fuckin’ good, man. He taught me how to make it but I can never get it quite like his, you know?”^^

Jason, you are going to get caught cursing. Bad boy.

Ah, so Dick is working again. He should just move back home. I mean how many minutes would it take him to get to work and back? Love Jason's explanation on their proper goodbye. Like he didn't cry the first time Bruce left for a day or so without him. I'm sorry, nearly cry.

^^ Tim frowns, confused. “...isn’t Blüdhaven only a three hour drive away?”

“Yeah, but Dick is nineteen and living on his own. Plus, Bruce and Alfred are secretly worrywarts and big ol’ softies,” Jason blithely informs him. “Dick can take care of himself, but it won’t stop everyone else from fussing over him.”^^

Bludhaven is three hours away? I thought they were closer than that? Then again Wayne Manor is technically outside of Gotham, or is it? Where exactly is Bristol (?) compared to the city?

^^ “You’ve already hugged me,” Tim points out and hopes that he doesn’t look too excited at the prospect of another hug. He wouldn’t want the Waynes to think that he’s weird, or anything.^^

It's Dick. Dick gives out hugs like they're going out of style soon. Especially to family. So yes, enjoy your big brother hugs Tim. I would if I got one from Dick. Heck, I enjoy hugs from the whole family.

Tim's in the family chat! I want Ace pics now, please ans thank you.

Now what were you researching that you needed to know about knives Tim? Of course Jason sleeps through his alarm. He's tired from running around Gotham. Tim never had anyone to wake him so he isn't like Jason and Dick, who was probably like Jason until he woke up.

^^ “Sorry for waking you,” Bruce whispers through the narrowly opened door. “I’m just checking in on all of you.” Translation: he just got back from patrol and wanted to make sure that nobody died in their sleep while he was away.^^

Tim, you really aren't helping me think you're Jack's son thinking this...also, you cant sleep because you're used to running around Gotham. I wonder how Bruce stays awake during the day? Cat naps?

^^ Time blurs into an incoherent mass of grays and deep blues, the same color as the shadows around his room. Eventually-- finally-- Tim falls asleep.^^

Bet you it is around 3 or 4 am when he fell asleep. So if Tim is lucky he'll get about 3 hours of sleep. Which isn't good but at least he slept.

Chapter 7)

^^ As usual, Tim’s alarm blasts the sound of distressingly cheerful chimes at seven in the morning.

Groaning, Tim rolls over and hits the “stop” button on his phone’s screen. He takes a moment to blink at the ceiling above him before he remembers the events of the previous day. Sprained ankle. Wayne Manor. Right. He drags himself out of bed and uses his crutches to hobble over to the bathroom so he can shower before facing the horrors of Gotham Academy.^^

Oof. Two hours it seems. I wonder how many hours he usually gets? Heck, I wonder how many hours any of them get? Especially Alfred who is probably up way before anyone else.

Bruce, no! Why are you giving Tim coffee?!!? Alfred, why are you letting him?!?! Why do I have a feeling Bruce is the start of Tim's addiction?

Wait, you let him have it because he's a guest? You do know Jason's going to grab a full cup...you are bad Bruce. Bad.

LoL I love that Bruce literally made it a rule about the music in the car. He had to otherwise his kids will fight about the music Everytime they are in a car. Good job Bruce.

^^ School is school: occasionally interesting, but mostly boring. Jason carries Tim’s backpack for him between classes. Tim goes to the debate team’s biweekly meeting during lunch and silently looks through that week’s assigned debate reading. The other students make a few attempts to talk to him, but for the most part, they’re too involved in their discussion of which Ivy League colleges consider them legacies to try to rope him in.^^

This is making me think they don't debate at all. They all just joined to have credit on their applications, like the Drakes made Tim.

Tim, Bruce just wanted to pick you two up. Parents do want to spend time with their kids.

Jason, I swear your answers would make people think. I'm surprised Alfred lets them keep the chips and other snacks in the house. He also knows where the hiding spots are.

^^ This also seems to be the wrong answer. Bruce sighs and Tim watches him carefully, but Bruce only shakes his head. “Okay, let’s reset. What I mean to say is maybe you should take a break. Dinner is almost ready. After dinner, how about you work for an hour and then take time to relax?”

Tim blinks at him. “What?”

“You’ve been working nonstop since we got back from school,” Jason pipes in from his spot on the floor next to Ace. His nest of papers disappeared into his backpack a while ago.

“Yeah, because I have a lot of homework.” What is Bruce trying to say?

Bruce crosses the room and sits across from Tim on the couch. “How much of it is due tomorrow?”

“I’ve already completed everything due tomorrow, but I have a few papers and long-term projects that I want to work on.” Tim untucks his legs from under himself so he’s sitting properly. Bruce probably hates it when people put their feet on the furniture.^^

Bruce is trying to get you to relax Tim. You need to be a kid, not an adult. The feet thing he's used to. His sons do it all the time.

^^ Ace’s tail thumps against the floor and Bruce leans over to scratch him behind his ears. “Good. Oh, and Tim, I wanted to let you know that I was able to get in touch with your parents this afternoon. They agreed to let you stay here until they return.”

Jealousy curls in Tim’s stomach before he can stop it. Why did his parents talk to Bruce but not Tim? Maybe they were busy; they probably have a lot of work to do. Yes, that must be it. “Oh, thanks for letting me know,” Tim replies.^^

Stupid Drakes. They're going to blame this somehow on Tim, I know it. Even though he did everything he could to get hold of them.

I love Jim just emailing the Shadow to make sure he's okay. It's such a nice thing to do.

Tim fits right in with his family. The way they all include him somehow but also let him relax is great.

^^ To: Timothy Jackson Drake <[email protected]>

From: Janet Lynn Drake <[email protected]>

October 18th, 12:01 AM (8 hours ago)

Subject: Re: Change of plan

Thank you, sweetie. Good luck with your sprained ankle and make sure to be a good guest for the Waynes.

We’ll be back in a week. In the meantime, look at these gorgeous photos that I took when we were in the Andes!

Love,

Mom

Attached:

Andes Santiago view 1.jpg

Andes Santiago view 2.jpg

Andes alpaca.jpg

Andes cloud forests.jpg

To: Janet Lynn Drake <[email protected]>

From: Timothy Jackson Drake <[email protected]>

October 18th, 8:14 AM (just now)

Subject: Re: Change of plan

Hi Mom,

Those pictures are lovely; the Andes must be beautiful. I would love to see more pictures if you have them. You and Dad will have to tell me all about your trip once you’re home!

Are you in Brazil now? How is it?

Do you have a timeframe for when you’ll return? I know that you and Dad must be tired from how busy you’ve been and I’d love to do something special to mark your return.

I can’t wait for you to come home. I love and miss you both!

Sincerely,

Tim^^

Wait, Tim emailed and called them on the 7th but it took until the 18th for them to even email him? They talked to Bruce but can't even tell their own kid anything until it's like 11 days later.

^^ Tim watches, bewildered, as their heartwarming reunion quickly devolves into a lighthearted pillow fight. They don’t use any fancy fighting moves that they couldn’t be expected to know, but Dick is unnervingly good at somersaulting away from Jason’s pillow. The pillow fight ends with them both on the floor as Dick does something with his legs to pin Jason’s arms.

“It’s over, Anakin. I have the high ground,” Dick announces dramatically. He gives Jason one final whack in the face with a pillow before releasing him. Jason sticks out his tongue at Dick before crossing the room to wrap Tim in a hug.

Still tense from the fight, Tim leans into Jason’s hug and closes his eyes. Why are all of the Waynes so good at hugging?^^

You'll get used to it Tim. You just need to be shown that not every reunion ,etx is going to have someone get hurt or be angry.

Blame the hugging on Dick. Dick is a tactical person and Bruce and Alfred learned to adapt and then just kept it up with Jason.

^^ have a busy day planned,” Alfred says as he carefully watches Tim chop kale. “Most slow cooker recipes only require a few minutes of preparation and can be left unsupervised for eight to ten hours.”

“That sounds nice,” Tim says as he carefully scoops the chopped kale into a bowl. “I could start dinner and still not be late to school.”

Alfred’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. “Precisely. I shall send you the recipe for this kale and lentil soup. It’s one of Master Bruce’s favorites. It’s also excellent for growing children, as kale contains lots of calcium and iron.”

“Huh,” Tim says as he measures out the dried lentils. “Well, it looks good already.”

“Just wait until it’s done cooking, Master Tim. It will be delicious. Now, would you mind peeling these carrots for me? I need to check on the sourdough.”^^

Alfred's teaching his youngest grandson how to cook and it is making me smile. Tim, you won't have to use this recipe, hopefully, for a long time. It's for when your at college or in your own apartment, not now. Still good to know though.

^^ “He wouldn’t have to see your pictures. I mean, I think all of us would love to see your work, but we wouldn’t have to.” Jason pauses, eyes narrowing. “You don’t have to be scared of Bruce or hide stuff from him, you know. He’s not going to stop you from taking photos or judge you or anything. If anything, he’ll read a bunch of articles on photography and then buy you an obnoxious amount of equipment.”

A soft huff of laughter escapes from Tim before he can stifle it. “I’m not hiding anything,” he defends. “It’s just that I don’t usually show my photos to other people.”

There’s a long pause as Jason watches him continue to clean the camera. At last, he says, “I could mention it to him if you don’t want to tell him. I think he’d be thrilled, honestly. It’s a cool hobby and I’m sure that you’re really good at it. None of us will go snooping around for your photos if you don’t want us to.”

Tim shrugs. “If you want,” he says.

Jason leans forward, eyes bright. “So you want me to tell him?”

If he says yes, then he’ll hand Bruce a way to link Tim to Gotham’s Shadow. If he says no, then he’ll look suspicious and Bruce might start sniffing around more. It feels like there’s no right answer. Looks like Tim will have to pick his poison.

“Sure,” he replies. “I don’t mind either way.”

“All right,” Jason says, watching him carefully. “It looks like you’re busy, so-- see you later?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as Jason stands up and walks out of his room. The door closes behind him with a quiet click, leaving Tim to continue cleaning his camera in peace^^

This whole section has me in love with it but this part especially. Jason saying Bruce would buy Tim photography stuff? Just because Tim is into it? Does Tim even realize that he's part of the family and this is Jason's way of telling him?

Bruce might not know your Gotham's Shadow yet Tim but he does know you need help. Yes, he might figure it out but I think it'll be good for you in the long run. That way you have backup in the future and your as safe as you can be which will be a relief for your family.

(Did Jason take a break from being Robin with Tim there or does he only go out in certain nights, which seems to be a fanon thing?)

^^ “I guess. I don’t take that until junior year, I think.” Tim half-shrugs and watches Bruce cautiously, waiting for his reaction. What does he want? Ever since Tim arrived at Wayne Manor, Bruce has routinely subjected him to questions about his activities. He’s still not entirely sure what Bruce wants to hear, but he’s usually satisfied after extracting a few inane details about Tim’s day. Bruce’s interrogations aren’t necessarily harmful, just confusing.^^

He's being a good and interactive parent Tim. Something guardians and parents are supposed to do. Which you aren't used to.

^^ It’s no big deal. They’re busy, so I guess they forget. Besides, they’ve got problems too and I can take care of myself,” Tim defends. “I can cook and clean up after myself. I can get to and from school. They even left me with one of their credit cards so I can buy whatever I need. I don’t need to be watched like a child.”

“Tim,” Bruce says patiently, “That may be true, but you shouldn’t have to take care of yourself like that. You’re thirteen, so you’re still legally a child. Just because you have financial resources doesn’t mean that you’re in a good situation.”

Tim frowns. “But my situation is good,” he snaps. “My parents are busy people. Between the two of them, they’re running an entire company and doing important archaeological research.”^^

^^ Tim fumes all the way over to the elevator and into his room. He angrily drops his backpack next to his desk and slides into his desk chair. Why can’t people just leave him alone?^^

Bruce points it out Tim. You are a child. A child should not have to take care of themselves. Adults are supposed to. I know it seems as if they are ganging up on you but they are worried. They want to help. Please let them help. Please.

Chapter 8)

Some email. I know they are going to be bad because of the warnings at the beginning but still...

The dinner sounds amazing. I hope at least Tim gets to enjoy it.

^^ Without any people in it, the manor feels like a ghost house. Tim turns on the living room lights and heads up the stairs. Bruce and Jason follow him. He tries to pretend like he doesn’t notice them looking around as they take in the house.

He nudges open his bedroom door and drops his school backpack next to his desk. “You can put my stuff down wherever.”

Bruce sets the duffel bag and crutches down next to Tim’s bed. Jason adds Tim’s night backpack to the pile before walking back into the hallway.

“I’m gonna put away the groceries,” he shouts over his shoulder.

“Thanks!” Tim calls back.

The room is quiet for a moment as Bruce glances around before his eyes settle on Tim. “I know that your parents are coming back tomorrow, but you know that you can call us at any time, right? The reason doesn’t matter. You can be sad or scared or injured or happy. And if you want one of us to come get you, we will. It can be the middle of the night and we’ll come. All right?”

Tim nods, chewing on the inside of his lip. “I know.” Not that he’ll need it, but the offer is nice.

Bruce watches him for a moment before nodding, seemingly satisfied. “Okay. I’m going to help Jason with the groceries.” He reaches out and pats Tim on the shoulder. Tim gives him a half smile before Bruce strides out of his room.^^

Of course they are looking around. They're looking for proof to get Bruce custody.

Thank you Bruce for reiterating that Tim can rely on you all. Here's hoping he actually does call. Even if it is not right away.

It took them until 10 pm to get home and they didn't tell Tim?!? He didn't even eat because he was waiting for them!

^^ Hand hovering over the doorknob of the front door, he hears one door click shut. He waits for a moment, but there’s no other sound. One door closing means that they’re sleeping in the same bedroom. Good; they’re probably not fighting right now. Smiling, Tim slips outside and starts hauling luggage inside.

Before he goes to bed, he makes sure to clear the table and load all of the dirty cooking dishes into the dishwasher. Tim grabs his backpack before he goes upstairs-- he doesn’t want to leave a mess in the living room, after all-- and heads up stairs.

He pauses for a moment, listening to the soft snores coming from behind his parents’ bedroom door, before he ducks into his room. It’s nice to hear the house sound alive for once.^^

Ugh, they are going to yell about Tim leaving their luggage down there aren't they?

Tim, your backpack is showing the house is lived in. It's not making a mess. Their luggage is making a bigger mess than you ever will.

You're so used to how lively Wayne Manor is now you didn't even realize what you thought, Tim.

I'm glad you can't go out into Gotham yet but I am also glad that you're at peace with riding your bike.

Uh oh. Stay safe Tim!

^^ At six-thirty, Janet sweeps through the front door, arms laden with takeout bags. “I bought us dinner from that Thai place you like,” she says, smiling.

It’s been years since Tim has eaten there, but he remembers their food being pretty good. “Thank you, Mom!” he chirps as he hobbles over to the cabinets to gather dishes to set the table with. Tim had hoped that they would be able to postpone last night’s dinner to today, but he doesn’t want to let the food his mother brought go to waste.^^

But your food can. That can wait, Tim. Have them enjoy the food you made! That can be dinner tomorrow.

I'm guessing the dinner went bad and got thrown out. Which sucks.

^^ At the end of his algebra class on Tuesday, his teacher passes out the tests that they took last week. Tim looks at the face-down paper on his desk, heart racing, before he steels himself and flips it over.

A bright red 82 stares back at him.

Eighty-two? His stomach does somersaults. It feels like something is squeezing his heart and filling his chest with lava. His skin is buzzing. Eighty-two is a B minus, not even a B.

The paper shakes in his hands, so Tim quickly stows it in his backpack before anyone can see his grade. Dizzy, he waits for his teacher to dismiss the class before he calmly walks to the bathroom and vomits into a toilet. He can faintly hear the muffled stampede as students rush to their various buses and chauffeurs.

Tim kneels on the cold tile floor and tries to control his breathing as he waits for the rush of students to die down. When it sounds like the main wave of students has left, he stands up, flushes the toilet, and washes his hands.^^

I would be happy with an 82. I hate when guardians and parents act like you need to be perfect. An 82 is great!

Tim needs a hug from his brothers now! It's going to be bad...I hope not but I know it will be.

^^ Numbly, he drops his backpack next to the front door and walks over. “What is it?” he asks as he takes a seat across from his mother and next to his father.

Jack slides a piece of paper across the table to him. It’s a print-out of his online grade report. This one is from his algebra class and displays the grade he received for each assignment. The most row containing the recent test is highlighted in glaring yellow.

“Notice anything?” his father asks mildly, eyes hard. He’s angry, Tim can tell. His shoulders are tense and he’s practically vibrating with it.

“I got an eighty-two on my algebra test,” Tim mumbles. His tongue feels too big and clumsy for his mouth.

“What was that?” Jack growls, leaning forward. “Repeat yourself. Louder, this time.”

“I got an eighty-two on my algebra test,” he repeats.

Janet watches him, eyes cool. “Tim,” she begins, “Do you know where these sorts of grades will get you?”

Tim swallows. “Not into the CEO’s office.”

She nods. “Exactly. These grades are unacceptable. You must not forget that your classmates will be your competition in the future. Everything-- your grades, comportment, everything-- can be used against you. We’re trying to prepare you for your future. If you continue like this, you’ll be a laughingstock. Build your armor now before you can be attacked for it later.” Seemingly done for now, Janet leans back in her chair.

“Right.” Tim nods. “Of course. I’m-- I’m sorry.”

“Your mother is right. And did you ever stop and think about how this will reflect on us?” Jack reaches out and slams his hand down on the highlighted 82. Tim flinches at the sound. The cursed number glares at Tim, yellow and garish, from the page. “You’re a Drake, Tim. What happens if, say, LexCorp finds out about this? They’re going to think that the future CEO of Drake Industries is weak and useless, and that will be like blood in the water.”

Absently, Tim notices moisture gathering in his eyes. He blinks, willing it away. “I’ll try harder next time. I’ll do better, I promise.”

Jack leans forward in his chair. “You’d better. Because you know what these grades are going to do for you? They’re going to--”^^

They can't even fucking call rhwie kid everyday but they can check his grades and get mad at him for not being perfect. B's will and are CEOs! Tim needs to understand that his parents are being assholes right now.

^^ Finally, he’s dismissed. Tim grabs his backpack and heads up to his room as quickly as he can with his foot still in the walking boot. The sound of his door closing behind him is a welcome relief. Tim lets his head drop for just a moment as he wills away a sob. Chest tight, he drags himself over to his desk and takes a seat. It would be best to avoid any more poor grades this week, so he opens up his algebra notes and starts studying where he went wrong.^^

You did nothing wrong Tim. Nothing! You shouldn't have had to apologize or even think you did something wrong.

^^ Tim focuses on his homework and tries to wait out the fight. Finally, someone-- Tim suspects that it’s his mother-- shouts something and there’s a loud clang downstairs. It doesn’t sound like something shattered, so he doubts that anything is broken. Good, that will make for less of a mess to clean up tomorrow.

Someone goes up the stairs and Tim recognizes his mother’s footsteps. They’re louder than usual; she must be angry. His guess is confirmed when she stalks down the hall and the door to his mother’s bedroom slams shut.

So they’re back to sleeping in separate bedrooms, then.

Algebraic equations blur as Tim’s eyes go unfocused. He hopes that the argument wasn’t over him. He’ll have to try harder next time if he wants them to stop fighting.^^

Why do you need to clean up their mess? They should do it. It's not your fault Tim. It isn't.

^^ Tonight, though, is Halloween. Every Gothamite knows that nothing good happens on Halloween, which is precisely why tonight is a good time for Gotham’s Shadow to reappear. There’s sure to be some sort of mischief going on that Commissioner Gordon will want to know about.^^

Lord please be careful Tim. Please. Something is going to happen and I don't think it will be good. I'm hoping I'm wrong though.

Scarecrow makes me mad and I'm sad for the kids. They just wanted one day to have fun and couldn't even get that.

^^ “I can’t believe the kind of nutcases in this city,” Jack says at breakfast the next morning. He gestures at the newspaper sitting in front of him and shakes his head. “It’s ridiculous. You’d think that Arkham would discipline the crazy out of them, but I guess not. They must be getting soft.”

Tim puts his now-empty cereal bowl in the dishwasher. “I’m going to head out. Don’t want to be late for school and all that.”

Sipping on her coffee, Janet barely glances up from her phone. Jack keeps talking animatedly, even as Tim grabs his bike helmet and slips out the door.^^

Jack sounds old school, like he want them to use electric shock and etc on them. I'm glad Tim got out of there safely. Hopefully he'll stay safe.

Chapter 9)

I'm scared for Tim just from the chapter summary. Here's hoping he goes to the Wayne's for help.

^^ Tim is pretty sure that he read something in the news about Batman and a few members of the Justice League fighting some killer robots in Star City earlier this week. And where Batman goes, so does Robin. At least Jason doesn’t look injured, so it seems more likely that his absences were due to him simply not being in Gotham rather than him suffering some terrible wound.^^

Not all the time since Bruce has been gone and Jason has stayed behind. Dick also. Especially if Bruce doesn't know what they are fighting which means keeping his sons safe and away from the danger.

^^ He nods contemplatively. “Good. And you’ve been doing the stretches that Dick showed you, right?”

“Yes, Mom,” Tim says, rolling his eyes.

Jason has the good grace to look slightly ashamed, but only slightly. “Sorry for mother henning you. We miss you over at the manor, Timbo.”^^

Love how Leslie gave him stretches but Tim listens to Dick more.

Let Jason mother hen toy, Tim. Let him!

^^ Tim sets down his algebra problems and hurries down the stairs-- there’s no sense in dilly dallying when his parents are in a mood. His parents are still in their work clothes and staring each other down in the kitchen.

“Set the table,” Jack orders without breaking eyes with Janet.

“What should I set it for?” Tim asks. “Do we need spoons, or--”

“I don’t care, just set the goddamn table!” His father snaps.

“Right, sorry.” Tim quickly carries a stack of plates and utensils over to the table. The sound of silverware clanging is loud in the otherwise quiet house. He doesn’t dare to risk glancing at his parents; at times like this, it’s best to avoid catching their eye.^^

Shit, Jack is in a mood. Why the fuck did they stay married if they take their marriage woes out on Tim who has no say in the marriage? He's just their son.

^^ His hands shake as he shoves his algebra homework into his backpack, but he leaves his laptop out since he doesn’t have any essays to work on. Shouldering his backpack, Tim heads back down the stairs.

Walking over to the kitchen table feels like he’s walking to his doom. Tim sets his backpack down next to his usual chair and sets his algebra practice problems in front of him. He sets his phone face down on the table too so he can double check his answers. Grabbing a pencil from his bag, he resumes working where he left off before dinner.^^

Why the whole backpack? The book I understand but the backpack? Especially to the living room.

Jason no! Tim no! Please don't. Please.

^^ “Hang on, Bruce is texting me,” Tim mumbles, frowning at his phone.

“Son,” his father growls, reaching for his phone. “We need to talk. Give me the phone.”

“What? No!” Frowning, Tim tries to twist away from his father’s grasping hands.

Jack looks pissed. Oh, Tim is so fucked. “I said to give me the damn phone!”

He grabs Tim’s upper arm and yanks him towards the head of the table. Tim hisses as his ribs collide with the edge of the table. Shock loosens his grip on his phone and Jack pries it out of his hand.

Before Tim can snatch his phone back, Jack stands up and glowers at him. “I’m trying to talk to you like an adult and all you do is ignore me and look at your damn phone!” he snaps.

“Dad…” Tim whispers. He can feel his heart pumping and his face is way too warm. His entire body is too warm, like he’s burning from within.

Jack turns and storms towards his office. Tim scrambles after him, unable to get his jaw to work properly. He freezes in the doorway as his father heads straight for his excavation kit and pulls out a hammer.

“How do you like this?” Jack snarls, raising the hammer. The screen is the first thing to shatter, but his dad keeps going. “You’re grounded and I’m taking away your phone privileges.”

Each strike of the hammer feels like a physical blow. His entire body is rushing, sinking, burning. He’s frozen in place, an unwilling witness as, piece by piece, his phone fractures into pieces.

When Jack finishes, he’s smiling triumphantly. Tim feels hollow, like someone scooped out his insides. Absently, he wonders if he would ring like a bell if someone hit him with a hammer.

“I won’t be dissed in my own house, son,” Jack says. His words sound very far away.

Tim nods. It’s all he can do. The rest of him is still frozen in place as he stares at the remains of his phone.

“Go finish your homework,” his father orders.

“Yes, Dad,” Tim says numbly.

Somehow, the command is enough to force his unwilling limbs to march back to the dining table. His body takes a seat, but Tim’s mind is still somewhere else, drifting. He feels unmoored. Everything is muffled like there’s a fine layer of snow between him and the world. It feels like he’s looking from the inside of a fishbowl, all smooth, impenetrable glass.

Tim stares at his homework until, mechanically, he picks up a pencil. He absently solves each equation, barely comprehending the numbers in front of him. Apparently it’s enough for his father, who doesn’t reemerge from the office.

Eventually, Jack stalks out of the office and up the stairs. Janet follows suit twenty minutes later, taking her book with her. She turns off the living room lights, leaving only the soft backlighting of the kitchen. Tim stays at the kitchen table, staring blankly at the numbers in the dim light, until his eyes begin to drift shut against his will. Only then does he finally peel himself from his seat, gather his papers, and numbly head upstairs.

The numbness echoes in him until he falls asleep. Even then, it sinks its claws into the fringes of his dreams, turning them gray and murky.

He dreams of sitting on a cool concrete rooftop, its cold permeating his entire body. He dreams of panicked trick-o-treaters running through the streets below as he sits on a rooftop, hidden and forgotten. He dreams of flickers of capes passing him by, of the hiss of grappling guns and delighted laughter fading into the distance.^^

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Damn you Jack! Damn you Janet!

Tim, please tell Jason the truth. Please.

^^ When he wakes in the morning, he still feels off. This time, he feels less like he’s controlling his body from inside a fishbowl and more like… feeling nothing at all. An all-encompassing numbness hugs his chest and nestles somewhere in the space between his ribs. Tim breathes deeply with one hand pressed to his heart. It’s still beating, but its pulse is faint.

He forces himself through his morning routine and his classes are more mind-numbing than usual. Tim shuffles into his usual corner of the library, hidden from the prying eyes of the librarians, and settles into a chair. It feels like he should do something, but what? He doesn’t feel like reading.

Tim ends up staring at the wall, mind blank, until something moves in a blur in front of him. He starts, flinching away from the motion and curling up. He stays like that, dark and safe, for a few seconds until he registers that someone is murmuring soothingly to him.

“Hey, it’s all right. It’s just Jason,” Jason whispers softly from somewhere nearby. “You’re safe. I’m not going to hurt you, okay?”

Slowly, Tim lifts his head up from where he’s pressed against his knees. “Hey,” he says, voice cracking. “Sorry. I’m fine.”

Jason wordlessly spreads his arms, a silent question. Tim leans forward until he can press his face into Jason’s shoulder as the other boy wraps him in a hug.

“Shhhh, it’s okay. You’re okay,” Jason murmurs as he rubs Tim’s back.

A few heartbeats pass and Tim finally pulls away. Jason stands up and takes the seat next to Tim. “Feeling better?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Tim says hoarsely. “Sorry. I-- didn’t sleep well. Nightmares.” It’s a bad lie and he knows it.

“Are you okay?” Jason asks, brow furrowed. “I just-- you didn’t respond to any of our texts last night. Bruce and I were getting worried.”

Tim shrugs half-heartedly. “Broke my phone.”^^

Jason is so telling Bruce. Especially since he knows you didn't break your phone and how scared you are right now.

^^ He frowns. “You failed a test this week. I really don’t think--”

“But I’ve studied really hard since then and--”

Jack cuts him off, eyes hard. “Don’t interrupt me. Bad grades mean no going out. That’s a rule, son. You--”

Tim interrupts, clenching his hands into fists. “Come on, Dad, they invited me and everything--”

His father’s hand moves and Tim flinches instinctually before the side of his face flares in pain. It takes him a moment longer to process the harsh sound of skin hitting skin. The slap hurts fiercely. Tim raises a hand to his stinging cheek and stares at his father, eyes watering.

“You need to learn how to follow the rules,” Jack says harshly. “I’m doing this for you, Tim. You’ll thank me someday. I can’t just let you run around when your grades are slipping.” He stands up and Tim takes a step back, eyes burning.

Wisely, he keeps his big mouth shut. His face hurts. He should’ve known that asking about this now would be a bad idea. He should’ve known--

His father turns and marches up the stairs, fuming. Tim watches him, rooted in place.

A hand lands on his shoulder and Tim jumps. “Your father is right, you know,” Janet says calmly. “We’re only trying to help, but you keep sabotaging your grades.”

Tim nods weakly. His cheek is on fire and his face is on fire and his heart is burning. He’s melting.

“Come on, Tim,” she orders, shoving him none-too-gently towards the stairs. Tim stumbles forwards, but he’s having trouble getting his legs to work. All he wants to do is hide in a hole somewhere, preferably for the next twenty years or so.

Frowning, Janet grabs his arm. “I said come on,” she hisses, fingers digging into his arm. She yanks on his arm until he finally shuffles after her, head bowed.

Janet mercilessly tugs him up the stairs and down the hall to his room, her hand like an iron vise. It might as well be wrapped along his lungs because it feels like he can’t breathe. From inside his room, there’s the sound of crashing. Tim’s heart plummets as Jack steps out, dragging Tim’s television along with him.^^

What the fuck? A 98 /89 is not a failing grade! What the fuck is up with these two?!?

Plus taking everything away because he talked back and 'failed'? Fuck them!

I hope to Ra they go to jail and get what they deserve.

^^ Besides, Tim just isn’t feeling it. When he’s in Gotham, he’s closer to the stars than to anything else in his life. Tonight, he’s stuck on the ground, staring up at the insurmountable rooftops like a bird without wings.^^

Tim, tell Jason! Tell him!

Chapter 10)

^^ Tim spends most of Sunday sleeping as the bone-deep numbness morphs into exhaustion. He’s so tired and there’s not much for him to do except for studying, sleeping, and quickly hiding his laptop whenever he hears footsteps in the hallway.

Blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a shroud, Tim stares at his reflection in the mirror. The hit to his face didn’t bruise too badly. It’s a bit swollen, but at least the discoloration is enough that it could be covered with some good concealer. His arm, though, is another matter. The place where his mother grabbed him is marked by a deep blue and purple bruise. Tim can almost see the outline of her fingers. At least it’s only on his upper arm and it’s cold enough outside to justify him wearing long sleeves until it fades.

He leaves his room exactly twice. Once, he leaves to sneak a box of froot loops into his room. He always maintains a stash of nonperishable food in his room, but there’s no sense in depleting his hoard when he could still get food from the kitchen. The second time he leaves is when his parents call him for dinner. Dinner is quiet and stilted, but Tim will happily take silence over screaming. He excuses himself as quickly as politely possible and shuffles back upstairs so he can collapse into the sweet embrace of his bed.^^

Oh, I'm hoping, and it certainly seems like it will happen, Jason finds out and Tim let's him know everything. Everything.

It'll hurt but also get Tim home sooner to his dad, brothers, and grandfather.

^^ Monday rolls around, but he doesn’t feel much better. Tim goes through the motions of forcing himself to roll out of bed and bike to school anyways. He covers the light bruising on his face with a judicious application of concealer. (Thank god for makeup tutorials on YouTube; they’ve been helping him cover the bruises from his nights out in Gotham for years.)

He has his usual debate team meeting during lunch, so he doesn’t run into Jason. School goes as usual and Tim bikes back home.^^

Damnit! Here I was hoping Jason would see him.

^^ Something about the smile on Jack’s face feels off and Tim doesn’t like it. He steels himself as Jack stands up and strides over to him. Jack lifts a hand and Tim tenses, but he only takes Tim’s hand and… hands him a new phone?^^

^^ They walk up the stairs together and head over to Tim’s room. The first thing Tim notices is the new television on his wall. It’s kind of unnecessarily large. There’s what looks like a wii console under it and a stack of video games.

“Do you like your new TV?” Jack asks, looking hopeful.

Tim forces a smile. “I love it! Thank you.”

“We got you a bunch of games too. Oh! We also bought a new camera for you.” Jack pats a compact digital camera sitting on Tim’s desk. Already, Tim can tell that it doesn’t have the same long-range zoom as his old camera. “It’s brand new. We got you a nice tripod for it too.”

“Oh, wow, thanks! I’ve never used a tripod before,” Tim says. The tripod would probably hold him back when he’s running through Gotham, but he doesn’t mention that little detail.

Jack smiles. “We’ve also increased the monthly spending limit on your debit card from ten thousand per month to twenty thousand. If you ever need more, just use our card instead of yours.”^^

This is creeping me out....are they trying to buy his silence? Because it sure seems like it.

Damn, I hope Tim can get his old camera back.

^^ Tim turns on his new phone and links it to his Drake Industries account. Seconds later, it begins downloading his contacts, messages, and photos from his account. Looks like he has a bunch of missed messages from Jason and Dick. He flips through them, but it’s just them suggesting which movies to watch.

On a whim, Tim starts typing a message to Jason and Dick.

Chat: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, and 1 other person

Tim [11/05, 3:41 PM]: Do you know if clones retain all of the memories of the original person, or would it take special technology to do that?

Tim [11/05, 3:41 PM]: Asking for a friend.

Jason [11/05, 3:42 PM]: ????????

Jason [11/05, 3:42 PM]: what the fuck?

Dick [11/05, 3:44 PM]: TIM YOU HAVE A PHONE AGAIN!!

Tim [11/05, 3:45 PM]: My parents got me a new phone.

Tim [11/05, 3:46 PM]: I’m worried that they might have been replaced by clones or something. They’re acting really weird.

Dick [11/05, 3:47 PM]: what do u mean by weird

Jason [11/05, 3:47 PM]: weird how?

Jason [11/05, 3:47 PM]: jinx

Jason [11/05, 3:47 PM]: you owe me a soda

Dick [11/05, 3:48 PM]: fuck u jay

Dick [11/05, 3:48 PM]: ok but tim, what u mean by weird

Dick [11/05, 3:49 PM]: do u need help?????

Tim [11/05, 3:49 PM]: I’m fine, don’t worry.^^

Tim...you just worried your brothers even more.

^^ Tim [11/05, 3:53 PM]: They bought me a ton of video games out of the blue. I think they got me Fortnite. Who even plays that anymore??

Jason [11/05, 3:54 PM]: they got you fortnite?? HAHAHAHA oh my god

Dick [11/05, 3:55 PM]: do kids not play fortnight anymore???????

Tim [11/05, 3:57 PM]: 1) I’m not a kid. 2) No, they do not.

Dick [11/05, 3:57 PM]: wow i feel old

Jason [11/05, 3:58 PM]: you are old

Dick [11/05, 4:00 PM]: thx im really feeling the love 2night

Jason sent 1 picture

Tim opens the picture and laughs. It’s of Jason sticking out his tongue while he flips off the camera.

Dick [11/05, 4:02 PM]: idk much about clones’ memories but i will srsly fight ur parents clones if u need me to

Jason [11/05, 4:03 PM]: wait do your parents not randomly buy you stuff?? they’re rich

Dick [11/05, 4:03 PM]: ooooo jay has a point

Oh no. Abort mission.

Tim [11/05, 4:04 PM]: They buy me plenty of stuff, guys. Like you said, they’re rich.

Tim [11/05, 4:04 PM]: Nevemind, forget I said anything.^^

Case in point.

^^ “Listen, just forget that I said anything about clones or whatever,” Tim sighs, leaning back into the uncomfortable wooden library chair. “Like I told you, it’s probably nothing.”

“Didn’t sound like nothing,” Jason shoots back. “Listen, if your parents are acting weird--”

“Jason, it’s fine.” He throws an arm over his eyes before realizing that his white sleeve is perilously close to the concealer covering the bruise on his face. Primer, setting powder, and setting spray might not be enough to keep the concealer from staining the fabric. Tim pulls his arm back, but he doesn’t see any concealer marks on his sleeve. Good, he doesn’t need anyone asking more questions right now, let alone Jason and the rest of the Waynes.^^

To late Tim. Way to late.

^^ For the rest of the week, Tim makes sure to be as polite as possible. He minds his posture and practices his company manners at dinner. His parents seem relatively pleased, but Tim can’t help but wonder what he’s missing. He has to be missing something. It feels like he’s playing whack-a-mole with his parents’ expectations.^^

I think they are leaving again.

^^ His guidance counselor-- Mr. Williams-- beckons for Tim to come in. “Hi, Tim. You can take a seat wherever you’d like. Ms. Fletcher has some questions for you. I’ll let you both get to it-- if you need me, I’ll be in Ms. Rivera’s office next door.” He stands up and leaves, closing the office door behind himself with a click.

Tim sits down in the seat next to the mystery woman who is apparently Ms. Fletcher. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says, extending a hand to shake.

She shakes his hand and smiles. “Hi, I’m Mary Fletcher and I’m a part of New Jersey’s department of children and families. Is it all right if I record our interview?”

“That’s fine with me.” He sets his backpack down on the floor next to the chair.

Ms. Fletcher nods and takes a slim device out of her pocket. After she hits the record button, she leans back in her chair. “I’m Mary Fletcher and I’m interviewing Tim Drake on Thursday, November eighth for the department of children and families.”

“The department of children and families… does that mean that you’re part of CPS?” Tim tilts his head and guides his face into a confused frown. Hopefully his use of CPS instead of the New Jersey-specific CPP will throw her off.^^

Yes, yes, yes! Thank you Leslie! Thank you Bruce! Now please tell the truth Tim. Please.

Wait...oooh! They were trying to buy his silence! Damn the Drakes!

^^ He shrugs. “If I get a bad grade on a test because I was texting instead of studying, they’ll take away my phone for a while so I can actually study.” There, that’s relatively close to the truth. “If I ever get really upset over something and I start getting way too angry, they’ll send me to my room to cool down.”^^

I'm liking the CPS lady. She's a badass and seems like she really wants to help the children out. Instead of only pretending to. Bruce made sure she was a good one, didn't he?

^^ A smile slides easily onto his face, but that speaks more to a great deal of practice rather than any amount of sincerity. “Of course!” he replies, as if the answer was obvious. “My parents love me and are fortunate enough to have more than enough financial resources to be able to provide for me. I’m really very lucky to be in this situation.”

“I’m glad to hear it, honey. You’re a good kid, Tim.” Ms. Fletcher smiles back at him. “Well, I think we can start wrapping things up here.”^^

She got enough. Tim knows she did, she knows she did, anyone with a brain knows she did. No wonder why Tim threw up again. Baby boy needs love and care.

Edit: Okay, I still like her but rereading makes me wonder if the Drakes were the ones who called CPS now. Should I not like her?

^^ “If you’re doing as well in school as you did with this, then you must be at the top of your class,” he remarks. “Speaking of, how is school? Did anything interesting happen today?” There’s a gleam in his eye that Tim isn’t quite sure what to do with, so he defaults to being smiling and polite.

“School was good,” he replies. “There weren’t any quizzes or tests today.”

Nodding thoughtfully, his dad keeps smiling. “I see. Well, keep working hard,” he says, and lets the matter drop.^^

Oh, thank you for not lying but not outright saying you got a visit Tim. Thank you. You just saved yourself from more hurt.

^^ As he pours himself a bowl of cereal, Tim dimly realizes that he forgot to ask where his parents were going or when they would be back.^^

They aren't coming back are they? It seemed like a lot of luggage...

^^ His new camera isn’t nearly as good at his old one, but the docks are relatively quiet by Gotham’s standards. Tim spots a few low-level drug dealers but they aren’t the source of the problem so he leaves them alone. He mostly spends his time revelling in how the cold from the metal shipping containers seeps into his stomach and the feeling of the sea breeze on his face. The docks aren’t as visually pretty as the rest of the city, but Tim appreciates how the reflections of the streetlights dance in the waves.

At one in the morning, he calls it a night and heads home. Exhausted, Tim collapses into bed and thinks of nothing for a long, long time.^^

What happened to his old camera? Did they take it with them? Or did Tim not think to get it?

Sleep Tim. You're going to need it because a talk is coming. A talk that is needed.

^^ Tim stares at himself in the mirror. The seemingly perpetual bags under his eyes look much better and the bruise on his face has faded to an ugly yellow and green. It’s noticeable enough that he’ll need to keep covering it with concealer for a while, but it’s not too bad. The bruise on his arm, however, is a different story. It’s still blue and definitely hand-shaped. Ugh.^^

Good luck because it isn't going to work but I'll still wish you luck.

^^ Sighing, Tim throws an arm over his face. Normally, he doesn’t mind hanging out with Dick and Jason. He enjoys it, even. But right now, it feels like there’s ice spreading through his bones, numbing him. Tim is made of skin and flesh and bone and a terrible emptiness lurking in the space between his ribs. He’s hollow, but his limbs may as well be made of lead.

Jason [11/10, 2:42 PM]: what are you doing rn? you should come over.

Jason [11/10, 2:42 PM]: we can talk alfred into making us cookies.

He sets down his phone and throws an arm over his eyes. Doing anything other than laying on his bed sounds like literal torture. Maybe he should take a nap.

Tim is so, so tired.^^

Tim, baby boy, I just want to hug you do bad. You need it.

^^ “Oh, good. We’ve been trying to call you and I suppose I panicked a little when the boys said that your parents weren’t home.” Bruce admits.

“Sorry,” Tim says after a moment. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“It’s all right, Tim. We’re just glad that you’re okay.” Bruce says gently. There’s the sound of what’s likely Dick and Jason squabbling in the background. Bruce pauses as if listening to someone and then adds, “Would you like to come over for dinner?”

“Make sure to ask if he wants to have a sleepover!” Jason calls, though his voice is muffled.

“Jason is asking if you want to have a sleepover. Dick is nodding,” Bruce adds, amusement coloring his voice.

Tim picks at a loose thread on his sheets. “I don’t want to impose….”

“Tim, you’re never an imposition,” Bruce says warmly. “You’re more than welcome to stay over any time you like.”

He pulls at the loose thread as he considers the offer. “Okay,” he says at last. “I’ll sleep over tonight.”^^

Sleepover forever!

Bruce is not letting you in your house by yourself and you know it young man. So good job on saying yes.

^^ Bruce hangs up and Tim stares at his phone for a moment before sighing. Time to pack, he supposes. First, he should throw on a sweatshirt to hide the bruise on his arm. Next, some jeans instead of his old sweatpants. He packs quickly-- he’s only staying over for one night, after all-- before hurrying into the bathroom to carefully cover up his bruise with makeup.

His setting spray has only just dried when there’s a knock on the front door. Tim shoves his makeup and makeup remover into his backpack before he hurries down the stairs.^^

You think it's only one night. Also, Jason knows about one bruise already and i know Bruce knows so give up and tell them. You won't be able to hide them.

^^ “A little tired, but I’ll manage. I spent most of the morning playing with Ace and keeping Dick from accidentally breaking any more furniture. Then I dealt with some WE business and collaborated with Jason to hide snacks from Alfred,” Bruce replies. “He almost certainly knows that we’ve snuck junk food into the house and is merely humoring us, but trying to sneak past him is part of the fun.”^^

Of course taking care of Dick is a full time job even with him not in the house. How does he manage on his own? He literally eats whatever Alfred packs him. I bet he barely tries the recipes either.

Alfred knows. It's not most certainly, it's certainly, Bruce. He lets you sneak past him. It's fun for him also.

^^ A few minutes later, Tim drops off his things in the guest room that he stayed in last time. Other than the freshly made bed, the room looks largely the same. Afterwards, Bruce walks Tim over to his bedroom, where Dick and Jason are sprawled out on Bruce’s unnecessarily large bed. An assortment of snacks sits on Bruce’s nightstand with more in two trays perched on the bed. He gets the feeling that Alfred was responsible for the platter of sliced vegetables and dip, but hey, it looks good.^^

Time to take over dad's bed! I love when Bruce can't even sleep in his own bed without a kid coming in or he gets kicked out of it because the kids want to sleep but no dad allowed.

^^ Tim hesitates for a moment, looking between Bruce and Jason, before he finally gives in and climbs onto the bed. It’s alarmingly comfortable-- the mattress must be memory foam or something. He crawls over so he’s sitting on Jason’s other side and Dick pushes a blanket over to him. Tim leans back against the mound of pillows and wraps the blanket around his shoulders, pulling his knees up to his chest.^^

Relax with your brothers Tim. Your dad better be getting custody of you. (I'm a bit impatient but I want Tim home.) (Or he's making sure the evidence is airtight.) Let Dick and Jason care for you for a while.

^^ Bruce returns as the third movie is beginning and takes his place between Dick and Jason. They waste no time in curling up against him with Dick’s head pillowed on his shoulder and Jason draped on his side.

“Wait, hold on,” Dick says, rolling out of the bed and walking around to Tim’s side. Perplexed, Tim watches as Dick flops down next to him, leaving Tim sandwiched between Dick and Jason.

“You look like you need some certified big brother cuddles,” Dick informs him seriously, holding out his arms.

“O--kay,” Tim says, drawing out the word as he stares at Dick.

Dick wiggles his fingers impatiently. “Come here, Timmy. You look like you need to be wrapped in blankets.”

“On it,” Jason says from Tim’s other side, peeling several blankets from the outside of his next and dropping them onto Tim.

Finally, Tim gives in and scoots closer to Dick. As soon as Tim settles, Dick manages to wrap an arm around him and Jason wriggles closer, still cocooned in blankets. Jason doesn’t quite use him as a pillow, but he does rest his head next to Tim’s side. It has the bonus of being close enough to Dick that he can gently pet Jason’s hair with the arm wrapped around Tim.

“You guys are a bunch of mother hens,” Tim informs them, but his words lack any real heat.^^

Dick cuddles, Dick cuddles, Dick cuddles! I love this. Tim getting the cuddles he needs from his older brother is pure love.

Awe. :( Why you kick them out Bruce? Let them sleep in your bed! Wait, I mean their bed.

^^ “Do you know when your parents are coming back from their trip?”

He can feel Bruce’s eyes on him. Tim bites his lip and fiddles with the sleeve of his sweatshirt before replying, “I forgot to ask.”

Dick gently knocks their knees together. “Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

Bruce nods in agreement, expression neutral. “Dick is right. Did your parents tell you where they’re going?”

“...I also forgot to ask about that,” Tim says and hastily adds, “Sorry.”

Wordlessly, Dick reaches out and slowly wraps an arm around Tim’s shoulders. He telegraphs his movements enough that Tim has time to force himself to relax before Dick gently pulls him closer.

“It’s not your fault. We’ll figure it out,” Bruce reassures him. He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “I’ll be honest, Tim. I’d like for you to stay with us until your parents return like you did when your ankle was healing in October.”^^

Considering it was 5:30/6 in the morning, I'm not surprised you forgot to ask Tim.

Yes! Stay! Stay forever!

^^ “They refused to let me come over here the last time that I asked them to,” Tim shoots back. It’s technically a lie of omission: his parents refused due to his poor grades, but Bruce doesn’t need to know that. Lying to the literal Batman makes his skin prickle, but Tim meets Bruce's eyes steadily nonetheless. “They’d probably be pretty angry if they found out you were involved.”

Now, Bruce looks faintly intrigued. He tilts his head minutely. “Angry?”

Next to Tim, Dick tenses slightly before it drains away as if it never happened. He continues to rub soothing circles into Tim’s shoulder.

Tim shrugs and studies the bookshelves behind Bruce. “I didn’t do well on a math test. They were angry that I wanted to come over here instead of study.”

Dick makes a sympathetic noise. Snapping his book shut, Dick sets it on the coffee table before bringing his free hand up to rub Tim’s other shoulder.

“Tim,” Bruce says, painfully gentle, “Does this have anything to do with how you got the bruise on your face?”

Tim freezes, his chest burning white-hot, before he turns to fully face Bruce. “What? How--” He’s been so careful to cover it with makeup every day since the incident. What happened?

“I saw it last night when I was checking in on all of you while you were asleep,” Bruce explains. He’s infuriatingly calm. It kind of makes Tim want to yell, to scream, to destroy something.^^

You did perfectly well on that math test. The Drakes are just assholes.

I knew it! Bet you it was before Bruce even checked on the boys.

^^ “Someone can love you and still hurt you. My goal is for you to be safe and happy, Tim,” Bruce replies, his voice even and measured. “We don’t have to talk about long term plans right now. But until your parents return, I would like you to stay here with us. I want to work with you and help you.” Dick places one hand on Bruce’s arm and gives him a look. Bruce quiets, closing his mouth.

“You can’t just-- just come into my life and uproot everything. I had a life, Bruce!” Tim shouts, balling his hands into fists. His chest burns white hot. Dimly, he suspects that he might be crying.

Bruce’s face remains infuriatingly calm. Part of Tim really wants to punch it, but instead he only clenches his fists until his knuckles turn white. “I don’t know why you’re so interested in trying to help me, but I don’t need you sticking your nose into my business! There are so many other things that you could be focusing on. Gotham needs your stupid help, but you know what? I don’t!”

He stares Bruce down, tears running down his face. Burning hot flames fill his chest and distantly, Tim notes that he’s breathing like he just ran a marathon. It takes a moment for the weight of his words to sink in and for Tim to realize that he just yelled at Bruce Wayne.

Tim just screamed at Batman.

Oh, he’s so fucked.

Tim distantly registers Bruce’s mouth moving as he says something, but the words are lost to the rushing in his ears. Bruce reaches out for him and Tim flinches away without thinking. The weight of Bruce’s icy blue eyes clamp down on his chest and make it hard to breathe. He just yelled at Bruce Wayne.

“--deep breaths, Tim,” Bruce is saying, his words distant as if spoken underwater. “I’m not going to hurt you--”

Tim stares at him, eyes burning with tears and chest burning with fire, and bolts.^^

Well...that's a good way of telling them you know their secret....wait, did they even catch that?

Tim, please don't. Don't run.

^^ He reaches a bedroom door that part of his mind faintly registers as mine, so he darts inside. The door slams behind him and Tim jumps at the noise, scanning the room for hiding places. His eyes land on the closet and Tim barely thinks before he opens his closet door and launches himself inside.

Closets are good. They’re quiet and dark and safe. Tim finds a stack of blankets in the corner of the closet and quickly burrows underneath them. If anyone sticks their head in, hopefully all they’ll see is a pile of fabric.

Tim huddles there in the dark, draped with blankets, and tries to control his breathing. He’s panting, gasping for air like he’s just run a marathon, and his heart feels like it’s trying to claw his way out of his chest. His entire body is buzzing with adrenaline.^^

At least you stayed in the Manor. Thank you for that. Now let them help you. Please. Especially since you revealed even more by running after yelling st Bruce.

^^ Eventually, Tim’s breathing calms enough that he can talk without gasping. The first thing he says is, “Bruce is going to be so mad at me.”

“He’s not mad at you,” Dick counters. “Worried, yes, but he’s worried for you. I promise.”

“He thinks that--” Tim gulps down another breath and wipes away tears from his eyes, “That my parents are bad people. But they love me, I know that they love me.”

Dick pauses. “I don’t think that people are fully good or fully bad,” he says at last. “I think that we all try our best, and sometimes we can love someone but still hurt them by accident.”

Tim sniffles and wraps his arms around his knees. “I just want my life back,” he says miserably. “Why can’t everything stop being so hard?” His voice cracks on the last word as a fresh wave of tears pours down his face.

“I know,” Dick whispers sadly. “Want to come here?” He holds his arms out in open invitation and Tim is so tired and his head hurts and his chest still feels weird and he’s weak and just wants someone to hug him for a bit.

Scrambling out from under the blankets, Tim crawls over to Dick and sits down next to him. Dick wraps his arms around Tim and pulls him into his chest, and Tim starts crying harder. Wow, Dick is good at giving hugs. He keeps up a steady stream of murmured reassurances and things that are soothing to listen to even if Tim isn’t really processing them.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please don’t be mad--” Tim gasps, but Dick only kisses the top of his head.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re safe here,” Dick says gently as he rubs Tim’s back. “We’re not mad at you.”

Slowly, the hot, tight feeling in Tim’s chest eases until it fades back into his usual muffled fog. His tears, too, lessen from a combination of dehydration and exhaustion until they stop completely.

“I’m tired,” Tim mumbles into Dick’s shoulder.

Dick strokes Tim’s hair. “I’ll bet. Does this sort of thing happen often?”

Tim half-shrugs. “Sometimes,” he mumbles. “Not always.”

“Okay,” Dick replies easily. “If you’re tired, you could try taking a nap. What do you think?”

Tim nods and Dick adjusts his grip on him before standing up, carrying Tim like a child. With his usual easy grace, Dick picks his way out of the closet and walks over to the bed. He gently deposits Tim on the bed and grabs a blanket to drape over him.

“You need to drink some water before you sleep,” Dick says, scrounging a glass from-- somewhere, Tim has no clue-- and padding over to the bathroom. Over the sound of the faucet running, he calls, “Do you want me to get Ace for you?”

Tim contemplates this for a moment before nodding. It feels like his brain was run over by a truck and he would really, really like a warm, fluffy dog on his bed. Realizing that Dick can’t see him, he belatedly replies, “Yes, please.”

Dick crosses the room and hands Tim the glass of water. “All right, give me a minute to find him. Drink the whole glass.”

Tim sips at the water as Dick leaves. A few minutes later, he slips back into the room with a happy-looking Ace. Ace wastes no time in hopping onto Tim’s bed and flopping down next to him. Smiling, Tim snuggles into the blanket and scratches behind Ace’s ears.^^

I'm glad thst Dick went up. Bruce would have been to much, Alfred also. Jason would have worked but I also think he would have done something wrong, even if he didn't try it.

Ace is the best. He's exactly what Tim needs and I'm glad Ace can help.

^^ “I’ll let him know.” Smiling gently, Dick ruffles Tim’s hair. “And by the way, welcome to the Yelling At Bruce Club. Everyone in the house is a card-carrying member, so you’re in good company.” He leans forward and kisses Tim’s forehead. Tim makes a face but doesn’t really protest.

Dick makes his way to the door and pauses, glancing at Tim and a very comfortable Ace. “Text any of us if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay,” Tim replies as he rhythmically strokes Ace’s ears.

Still smiling, Dick slips out of the room. It takes less time than Tim would’ve thought for him to fall asleep.^^

Dick is the best oldest brother. I say oldest because it is a tie between him and Jason for being the best older brother.

#batman #batfam #jason todd #tim drake #dick grayson #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #fanfiction

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forthedancingandthethriving · 11 months

Text

Abyssal exhales, crossing her arms. She taps her foot, trying hard not to look at Overseer. He was doing the same, though he found the floor of the Hub elevator much more interesting.

The silence was loud and awkward between the two, neither having really thought they'd need the other in a goddamned Hub elevator.

Abyssal exhales silently, glancing over to the doors. She'd typically just use a portal command like usual, but she didn't trust herself, not after the venom Cursor had spat at her just before she left.

She sighs softly. Well, she still needed to go and check out a universe. Apparently, it's Admin (or host, as Root had told her) had kidnapped Root and kept her in the universe for a few hours. Abyssal was glad she learned this from Root and decided not to tell anyone else. Why? Because with the recent events, Abyssal knew full well there wouldn't be any good reactions.

A sudden jolt from the elevator makes both Overseer and Abyssal jolt, stumbling to keep their balances. As they look around, confused, both miss the way a white lock appears over the doors before fading.

As the duo regained their footing, both notice that the elevator wasn't moving.

".. oh my god, are we stuck?" Abyssal wings press to her back.

"And we can't even break out because of the way the Hub is designed.." Overseer groans, tugging his hood further down.

She rubs her temples, pulling up a chat box to let Umbra know about her predicament before frowning deeply. A loading symbol of a gray cube spinning stopped her from stopped her.

"Weird.." she mutters. She then looks up, and she swears that, from a shadow, she sees a ball with a tail and cat ears leap off of the top of the elevator.

".. well shit." Overseer and Abyssal sigh, knowing full well with their respective powers it wouldn't even be a good idea to attempt breaking out.

They only hoped the Admins of the Hub worked fast.

○●•

"So.. your coding is the reason why you decided to let Blotch possess me?" Abyssal hums, sat beside Overseer. He hums also, nodding and sitting just close enough that Abyssal could, theoretically, just stretch her wing and have it rest over him..

Oh, wow, where did that come from? Her cheeks darken as she blushes.

"Mhm." Overseer sighs. "And I'm.. sorry about. It was stupid in hindsight, and we should've found a different way."

"Eh. I've been through worse." Abyssal shrugs, and Overseer decides to not comment on that.

Silence surrounds the two again before the Admin speaks. "Uh.. why do you keep your hood up all the time? I-If you feel okay answering!"

"It's.. fine." The Program looks down. "I.. I don't want others to use it against me. Before I met Blotch, I.. met someone who I thought I was capable of trusting."

He pulls his knees to his chest, and without much prior thought, Abyssal rests one of her wings over him. "And.. I showed them my face, despite the fact I shouldn't have. They.. used that against me. It made me think that I could never trust anyone again. Plus.. I.. don't look that good anyway."

"Yes, you do." Abyssal speaks, her voice soft yet firm. She carefully reaches and places a hand on his cheek, making Overseer jolt in surprise. However, she feels him lean into the touch. "Don't think of yourself that way, Overseer. I get it, someone betraying you when you thought you could trust them. But don't let that affect how you see yourself."

"I mean.. if you want my opinion.." She pulls her hand away, bashfully smiling with a dark blush on her cheeks. "Your freckles are adorable. They look like stars against a night sky."

Overseer hesitates before pulling down his hood, and Abyssal can see that he has a blush as dark as hers. While he avoids her gaze, she can hear some happiness in his voice. "I've.. never had it compared to that before."

"Well, now you have." Abyssal hums, glancing away.

Overseer opens his mouth to speak again but instead pulls up his hood when the elevator jolts, moves, and stops. The doors then open, and the two quickly stand up, walking out and looking at it.

"The hell?" Abyssal frowns. "What are all those gray blocks?"

Before she had time to question it anymore, the elevator disappeared.

She sighs and turns around, eyeing the portal command that no doubt leads to whoever took Root. "Well.." She summons her blades. "Here goes nothing."

"Want some help?" Overseer asks as chains form beside his hand.

Abyssal pauses to think before smiling. "Sure, why not?"

(Entropy blinks and sweats as she looks at the open portal command. Why was she so nervous lately?)

#admin: abyssal #sona: overseer #entropy the collector #fanfiction: my writing!#!posts!#i was so tired while writing this #gonna just go and pass out now

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its-my-whump · 1 year

Text

Whumptober 03

“Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon.” | Solitary Confinement | “Make it stop.”

You don't need to read the whole story. Everyday can stand for its own. And that poor soul has to suffer through every single one of them, I promise!

Hummingbird 03

(Story starts here) previous

Just blackness.

Breathing was uncomfortable. Warm wet air was all that got into his nose. It tasted used. It tasted old, it tasted like there was not enough oxygen in it.

The next sense awakening was his hearing. Or more hearing his own desperate short breaths. But they were muffed. He could feel himself breathing, but it sounded far away or at least like it was muted by a blanket or something. 'Maybe he was laying under a blanket. That would explain the warm air, he was pulling into his lungs."

He was defenitely laying down. Not only the hard surface his shoulder and hipbone were pressed against, but also the certainty, that he wouldn't be able to stand on his own two feet, reassured him.

Sam was pretty sure he had opened his eyes, but everything was still dark. Maybe it was still night.

He had been to the club, the restroom. A car?

He had bumped his head. 'Maybe, he was temporarly blinded.' The headache was back.

'Where was he? Why couldn't he see anything?' His heartrate picked up. 'There was something on his head. A blanket?'

Out of reflex, Sam wanted to pull away, whatever it was, that forced him to breath his own air. His muscles were still so heavy. A metallic sound and his moving arms were stopped. He had them on his back, while he was laying on his right side. The sound was from some handcuffs restricting his attempt to bring his arms to the front and to free his face. 'He had a hood over his head. That's why the air tasted used. Because it was. That's why, he couldn't hear properly.'

More fabric was wrapped around his eyes and the back of his head. It was slightly warmer and tighter in these places. So his eyes were externally blinded in addition. That's why, he couldn't see nothing at all.'

His heart was hammering almost painfully hard and frantic inside his chest by now. The stomach pain was there again too or was he just panicking too much? His breathing had picked up even more in the meanwhile, he hadn't noticed at first.

In an attempt to get more, so desperately needed air in, he tried to breath through his mouth. Also to fight down the bitter taste in the back of his throat.

Horrified Sam realised, that there was ducktape over his mouth. 'He would suffocate!'

A whimper escaped him. Tears started streaming in desperating. The fabric around his eyes took them without objection. He struggled against his cuffed hands and weak muscles, just to realise, that his feet were restrained too.

Another whimper blocked by the ducktape over his mouth. A though jumped into his head. 'Crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon.' It wasn't only the situation, but this random lyric from a classmate years ago letting his panic rise. 'Why was he remembering it now and why this one in particular?' He couldn't make heads or tails of his brain overloading.

Loneliness and fear overtook him completely. But he couldn't surrender to these overwhelming feelings. The urge to throw up was rising every second he was hopelessly fighting. He had to swallow hard, his Adam's apple moved painfully, trying to keep down what was about to rise. His heart wanted to escape his chest and was hammering painfully hard against the inside of his ribs. But it seemed every attempt of it pounding away for more space was futile.

'He would die here. He would suffocate on his own vomit! He needed to calm down!'

Breathing was so hard, there was just not enough air. His head was pounding mercilessly in the rhythym of his heartbeat. He tried to force himself to calm down. 'Make it stop! Just make it stop!' But not being able to breath was shutting down every other unnessessary function in his body and brain. The immobile metalrings around his wrists were drawing blood by now. His feet scrapped over the cool concrete ineffectively. The panic was surpressing any pain.

His own muffed whimpers, between frantic breaths through his nose, were the only sounds.

His stomach cramped, his gullet protested. The strap around his eyes was soaked by his own salty tears. He had hit his head numoures times against the concrete in his desperate fight for survival. Dizzyness was getting worse. 'He was going to die!'

His muted scream was interruped by acid shooting up his tube. But he couldn't open up. Bitterly burning stuff summoned inside his mouth, blocking his airsupport while making its way up his nose. He tried to swallow.

'He couldn't breath. He was going to die now!'

His body violently protested against missing vital support, but his struggle died with every breath he couldn't take.

White stars exploded in his vision and were dancing.

He couldn't hear his own animalistic sounds anymore. He couldn't fight anymore. The pressure in his lungs was pulling him apart from the inside out. His head was going to implode. Darkness was reaching for him. His body went limb.

...

Commotion in the background, someone suddenly appraoched. The hood was violently yanked from his head. He was rolled to the side even more. Ducktape ripped apart.

His jaw was spread open and a hand forced itself into his mouth.

Suddenly there was space for air to get in. His body instantly switched into survival mode and sucked in a liftsaving breath.

TBC

Hummingbird masterlist

@whumptober-archive

#whumptober2023 #no.3 #“Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon.”#Solitary Confinement #“Make it stop.”#OC #drugged tw #suffocation tw #fear of dying tw #almost dying tw #panic tw #whump #writing #whump writing #whumplr #hummingbird

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ducknotinarow · 2 years

Note

[2k3 2k12 cross over]

God his head was spinning! Casey grunted as he got back onto his feet, taking a moment to find his balance. Geese what a fight! It had completely taken him out - though for how long he didn’t know. What also didn’t make sense was the fact he was alone - shit, he hopes Raphs okay

Cupping his hands around his mouth, he began to call out,

“Raph!! Raphael!!! Yer seriously didn’t leave me did’yer?!”

He was being dumb, nothing new there. Figuring staying the floor was the worst idea, Casey headed to the roofs and started to search. It took a while, but he soon saw a familiar red mask, tails billowing in the breeze. Casey gave a faint sigh of relief,

“There yer are Raph,” he soon huffs, “Kinda rude as fuck t’ leave yer boyfriend’ behin’ like that yanno - but I guess I’ll forgive yer, yanno, for a kiss~”

He laughs a little, only stopping now that he gets a real good look at them from behind his mask,

“Uuuh, yer gotta new look or somethin’?” He asks, “Yer look taller,” not quite as tall as him though, “Darker green too, no eyes on show either,” clearly disappointed, but Casey still grins, “Still look good babe, real fuckin’ good.”

And there he is, giving ‘fuck me eyes’ from behind his hockey mask. Now if only he could stop being horny for 2 seconds to realise this wasn’t his Raphael

| muse interaction

“Raph!! Raphael!!! Yer seriously didn’t leave me did’yer?!”

Raphael swore he hear his name being called out just now, as if being carried out by the wind. As he was going about a solo run right now, leaping from roof to roof. Eyeing out any action that might be going on that he could get in the middle of. But seemed the city didn't have much to offer a slight huff under his breath maybe he should hit Dragon territory? Casey likely was there himself now. But that was when he heard it it. Enough to get his attention off being bored he just couldn't place the voice? Sure maybe there was some other Raphael being called out to right now? it wasn't impossible but nah he always relied on his gut and right now his gut was telling the turtle to check this out.

So he set out to make his way toward the sound, crouching down on the edge of the the roof as he peered down to the street. It sounded like it was coming from the streets before, as eyes were focused on the ground narrowing into a sharp glare, that feeling in his gut just wasn't going away something was up. He hated that he could feel it but couldn't seem to see what was causing it. like it was leaving him on the edge. Moving suddenly at the faint sound of a breath behind him as he turned on his heels finding...a kid. Least he thinks?

They were dressed in all black, from the hoodie covered in what may just be different colors of paint, well the sleeves torn by the shoulders layer on top a long sleeve black shirt. To Black jeans, a white hockey mask, painted up like a skull covering their face outside thier large brown eyes and hood pulled up over their head.

“There yer are Raph,”

Okay so that answered some things he been wondering, they did know him but try as Raph might he couldn't place this kid at all? He felt like this get up should be easy to recall for sure. Only guy he knew that went around in a hockey mask was well Casey.

“Kinda rude as fuck t’ leave yer boyfriend’ behin’ like that yanno - but I guess I’ll forgive yer, yanno, for a kiss~”

"..my what?" Was all Raph could say looking them over closely "Casey?" he questioned but there was no way this was Casey. Casey was huge, a giant of a person. Built like an ox and huge as a one too. This guy? Was as scrawny and one could get. The bit of skin he could make out was pale as all hell. They were laughing as if part of the joke going on her but it left Raph wondering what was wrong with this kid. Keeping distance between them but he did step a bit closer. Despite the spikes on the hockey gear they were weaning as padded he was pretty sure from how relaxed they were holding themself that they weren't going to pull something. Not that Raph felt this kid was any threat to him. Arms folding over his chest as they seemed to get a closer look now.

“Uuuh, yer gotta new look or somethin’?”

Brow rises up a little, Raph hasn't changed?

“Yer look taller,”

Raphael did hit a growth spurt sometime ago but yeah no he still didn't know who this kid was not to mention he was still stuck on them calling themself his boyfriend. Sure Casey was an idiot but he wasn't THIS much of an idiot.

“Darker green too, no eyes on show either,”

"my eyes?" not so focused on the remark about his skin tone being different apparently really this kid should take in all these differences they were point out about Raphael. It should be enough to clue them in that something was right. Raphael? yeah only so few people knew what his eyes looked like. Others would just assume his brothers and him didn't have eye colors but there was some clear disappointment in this kids voice when they said it. This was driving Raph nuts how the fuck did this kid know him sort of but also not know him? For a moment the turtle started to wonder if this was actually Casey, he was pretty aware they liked his eyes but? no Casey knows they keep them hidden away when the mask was on so?

“Still look good babe, real fuckin’ good.”

Raph now takes a step back again easily reading the expression in their eyes. Of course, Raphael knew a set of 'fuck me eyes' when he saw them cause well he gave Casey them a lot. Okay yeah this was..this was weird.

"Kid the fuck is wrong with ya, did ya land on your fuckin' head or somethin' ?" Raphael soon asks. Even more wondering who the fuck they were and what the hell was going on. Waving his hand so to express a go away motion at them as he made his way to the edge of the building ready to jump over to the next roof "Now scram kid I ain't got time to play around with some nut case." Maybe he should be a bit more cautious seeing as this kid seemed to know of him at least. Yeah that part is weird? He knows for sure he don't know this kid. He paused a second and looked back at them. Something was familiar but still so very off? he couldn't explain it. Looking over his shoulder a moment it was pretty clear this kid would just follow him anyway. They clearly had some or all their screws lose. Look how they were dressed and running around like that? What did they think they were some hero? yeah the get up did remind him of Casey but Casey was a full grown adult not some stupid kid.

He reach up and dragged his fingers over his face, even if the kid didn't follow him they looked like they get into trouble. Raph couldn't explain how he knew that he just KNEW. He grounds his teeth and growls a little to himself annoyed. Turning back around and walking over a bit "Don't annoy me" he warns aiming a finger at them. "ya clearly lost so tell me where ya live can at 'east make sure ya get home safe yeah?"

#muse| hamato rapheal #aflockofffeathers #madamkezzie #[ if you jump off a bridge its only cause i did first aflockoffeathers]#[2003 2012 cross over verse]#muse interactions #ic reply #stayed qeued #((I didnt wanna make new tags XD so I just got another verse tag for this stuff uwu))#((sadly raph cant not adopt a stray even if this one keeps checking him out u-u casey CLEARLY THAT AINT YOU RAPH!))

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bubbledumbbinch · 3 years

Note

Thank you so much for doing my ask(>0<；)

I LOVED IT. I kinda have a thing for shy characters if you could tell. If you don't mind, can I request the same oral headcanons for Ruggie, Jamil, Jade and Rook this time? The one who look like the service tops? Thank you so much💕💕

Eek hello again! I’m so happy you enjoyed my last one!! I had fun writing it! Ty for the request again, I’m v excited for these set of characters. And, I like the shy ones too 🙈

ALSO THESE CAME OUT MORE LIKE SCENARIOS JKSDKJNDKNAK

A/N: This piece of writing is for 18+ readers only. Minors DO NOT INTERACT.

Warnings: Mild story spoilers for Episode 4 for Jamil(?) , mentions of blood for Jade, slight yandere for Rook

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

Ruggie Bucchi x Reader

Giving

Right so, it’s no secret that Ruggie is a real giver. He does so much work for Leona and is known for being giving in his community back home! He’s too sweet!

Ruggie playfully slaps your ass as you walk through the halls of NRC, making you gasp as you look around at your surroundings, making sure nobody caught him. Taking his squeezes on your body as a hint, he leads you to a hidden corner and starts to tease you more.

Ruggie also isn’t picky on location either, willing to find a hidden place around the school, a janitor’s closet, or an empty classroom. This man will please you anytime, anywhere.

The dirty blonde would definitely feel you up in preparation, knowing what spots to linger on, letting out his signature shishishi~ as he can hear you moan or feel you shiver at his fingers.

Ruggie pushes your form onto the door lightly, giggling at the way it rattled from the pressure.

Pulling your pants down, the smell of your sweat from throughout the day, permeates his senses making his cock and ears twitch. It’s a dirty pleasure~

I can also imagine him saying “THANK YOU FOR THIS MEAL” before going down on you

Ruggie is aggressively trying to make you cum, he’s rough yet so good with his tongue, keen on hearing those sharp noises from your mouth.

When you get close, you put your hands on his head, rubbing his ears and giving him so many praises. He feels his cock twitch in his pants as he starts sucking on your clit with more fervor than before - making you squirt on his face

The beastman laps up at your juices as you ride out your high, eating up the flavors and the noises coming from you~

“Shishishi~ Y/N, you couldn’t help those lewd noises from coming out hm?” Ruggie teases, as he helps you put your pants back on. “Careful though, next time, I don’t want to risk having anybody else but me hearing those noises, okay~?”

Receiving

You and Ruggie are in his bedroom back at Savanaclaw, after a tiring day of him running errands for Leona. You praise him for his efforts and offer to suck him off to reward him for being such a good helper!

Ruggie is not used to someone offering to service HIM instead of the other way around, so don’t tease him for looking so shocked!

He blushes, asking if you’re sure you really want to. Internally there is some doubt as if he doesn’t know if you really meant it or if you were just joking.

Once he realizes you’re serious, he eagerly strips down to his boxers, letting the tent in his pants be all the more obvious.

You wanted to service the hardworking hyena boy as much as possible, stroking him through the cloth of his undergarments until you could see a dark spot on the briefs where the tip of his dick was.

Suddenly, you felt your hands moving on their own. You looked up as Ruggie was controlling your hands, making you pull his underwear off, as he couldn’t take anymore messing around.

Eventually he lets control of you go, and he lets you bring his cock into your waiting mouth. He closes his eyes and lays into his pillow, groaning immediately.

After working his length in your mouth, he uses his hands to pull at your hair, his tail now wagging violently under him.

It doesn’t take long before he already starts to twitch in your mouth. As he gets closer, he asks to cum on your body, preferably on your chest

Ruggie lets out hot frequent pants as he releases, his ears twitching in delight as he paints your naked chest with his cum

He isn’t satisfied with one time, he is greedy and wants you to make him cum at least twice!

“Haanh- wow..! It felt so good, Y/N...” the blonde panted. He stroked himself back to hardness as he looked at his seed that served as art on your body. “Here, open your mouth, c-can you do it again for me? Please?”

Jamil Viper x Reader

Giving

Jamil has also been a giver for most if not all of his life. As we’ve come to find out, he isn’t extremely happy about being a giver and in turn putting himself and his desires after.

However, when it comes to you, Jamil wants to give you so much, at least as much as he can within his power. Nobody has cared this much about him romantically to a point where he can feel like he can be himself.

Jamil convinced to teach you how to make one of your favorite dishes of his in Scarabia’s kitchen, his hands grazing over yours as he stands behind you, fingers lingering over places all over your body, his touches ghosting over your ass. You hadn’t even gotten to the actual “cooking” part, only gathering the necessary ingredients and starting to cut vegetables.

Jamil’s offer to pleasure you with his mouth comes from him as he stands behind your smaller form, whispering in your ear about how he would love to taste you, making you whimper at the sound of his voice combined with his lewd words. You find yourself grinding onto Jamil, hearing a hiss leave his mouth.

After finding a clean table in the kitchen to set you on top of, Jamil makes sure to lock the door to the kitchen and make sure the coast is clear before he stalks back to your form with a mischievous glint in his eye, promptly pulling your pants down and licks up your clothed pussy.

Jamil moves the cloth to the side and skillfully uses his tongue to lick up and down your cunt, then directing his attention to flicking his tongue on your clit.

Jamil’s so good at this you have to wonder how many time’s he’s done it before, but a particularly hard suck at your clit is bringing your full attention back to him.

Jamil also knows how to use his hands, bringing his calloused fingertips from basketball practice and putting them to use on your nipples.

Maintaining eye contact with his dark eyes, Jamil works you up gradually to a slow but intense climax. He holds onto your legs as you squirm in front of him. You’re struggling to find something on the smooth table to grip onto so you bring your fingers to his head, feeling his smooth black locks in your grasp.

Only moans and slurping sounds can only be heard in the kitchen as you try to keep yourself silent. “Y/N...” Jamil’s liquid honey voice calls to you. “Let me hear those beautiful sounds you’re making, my jewel. Let me hear you scream out my name as you cum..!” was all you heard before losing yourself to the pleasure once again.

Receiving

Jamil was coming by to visit you at Ramshackle dorm after basketball practice. The way his tan skin glistened with sweat never escaped you, and your gaze trailed from his eyes, to his arms, down to his gym pants. His sweat seeped through his clothes and created multiple dark spots.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, Jamil was perceptive and smirked once he noticed where your gaze was at the moment, blush coating his cheek as he chuckled. He would never push you however to do anything sexual, if you didn’t want to.

Like Ruggie, Jamil would be a bit shocked about you offering to give him a blowjob. He knew you were bold but... the fact you were offering it to him and knowing who he was, what he’s done, and you still forgave him... Jamil is absolutely shocked but he feels a certain emotion that makes his heart feel warm.

He lets you take the lead as you both lay in bed, kissing him gently while stroking him through his pants. Every grunt and pant is like music to your ears.

You crawl down so your face is near his crotch, as you pull down his pants and free his member. After a few pumps and a very visible bead of precum comes to your attention, you stare into his eyes as you take him into your mouth.

Jamil releases a low sigh, as if he doesn’t want to be heard by a single soul. His expression can only be described as admiring as you bob your head up and down his cock, stroking what you can’t fit into your mouth in your dominant hands.

Jamil covers his face with his hood, cheeks visibly red and his hair splayed messily on your bed. Suddenly, he bucks his hips up when you tongue his head, causing you to moan in pleasure.

Jamil warns you of his incoming release, telling you to go faster. You answer his pleas and suck more of him and move your hand faster up and down his dick, causing him to groan loudly and release his hot cum.

You look up and see him staring down at you with piercing dark orbs, black bangs sticking to the side of his face as he’s panting heavily.

“Let me see it, my jewel. Open your mouth.” You obeyed Jamil and opened your mouth to reveal all of his cum on your tongue, allowing it to drip onto his limp cock. “Tsk, it looks you’re gonna have to clean this up now...” Jamil placed a hand on your cheek and lowered your head again, gently.

Jade Leech x Reader

Giving

Lord have mercy I’m boutta BUST

Jade notices how tired you are when you’re both working shifts in the Mostro Lounge, seeing how you stretch your back and move a bit slower than usual. He can tell you’re nearing the end of your multiple hour shift.

Once you’re both finished your shifts, Jade offers to lend you his bed to rest on. He smirks once you turn away hehe

While you rest yourself on his bed, you take off your blazer, scarf, and hat from your uniform. You close your and you hear Jade from across the room shuffling about - removing his shoes, the sounds of his clothes being placed into his closet, his steady breathing.

Jade was beautiful. 190cm of pure intimidation, yet he was always gentle and chivalrous towards you. His stunning eyes were unique and the way he smiled at you only served to send shivers through your body. Not with fear but exhilaration.

You moved your head to sniff at his pillow, inhaling his scent of light cologne and pressing your legs together under his covers. Suddenly you hear him leave the room and you take the bold liberty to remove your shirt and pants. If he finds you, you can just weasel your way into making him believe you were too hot, right?

After several minutes of imagining Jade’s presence and his scent, you nearly screamed when you felt a sudden dip in weight on the bed, opening your eyes to see Jade’s signature smile.

Once he rips off his sheets from your body, he smirks and trails his fingers lightly along your form - from your chest, your abdomen, then finally to the waistline of your panties.

Jade bites you lightly, on your plush thighs, drawing a bit of blood and licking the wounds, making you squeal.

“May I?” Jade looks into your eyes, voice as smooth as ever. After given the signal of approval, Jade removes your undergarments swiftly and gets to work on your leaking pussy, tongue changing paces on your clit.

After a few minutes, Jade eases off. “If you don’t mind, darling...” he simply mutters as he takes off his gloves and inserts his long middle finger into your hole, earning a throaty moan from you.

Jade feels his cock leaking from the actions and sounds coming from his partner - yet he only pays attention to you, focusing his energy on pleasing you.

It feels like electricity running through you as your orgasm rips through your body - you gripping onto Jade’s bedding as you still feel him on your pussy, slowing down his ministrations as you come down from your high.

“Oya oya~ what do we have here?” Jade whispers. “I could smell your arousal from the other room, darling. Have I been neglecting you?” He feigns sadness as he raises his eyebrows and licks his lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll service you soon so, please, allow me...”

Receiving

Jade was coming back to campus from one of his frequent trips to the mountains to gather some mushrooms. Some were questionable and some were edible, and Jade loved to find out which were which.

You offer to service Jade, teasingly, when he told you he was going to cook one of your favorite mushroom dishes for you with his fresh inventory.

“Oya? Don’t tease me like that, you’ll make me think you’re serious. Although, that would be nice.” He chuckled, patting your head. You huffed and started working on his pants, lowering them to reveal his still flaccid penis.

You started gently working on Jade’s length with your fingers, watching how the blood started to rush to it and make it harden. As precum leaked down his dick, you licked it from where it was on his length back up to his tip, taking him into your mouth.

Jade only offered a pleased “Hm.” as you started to move his girthy dick in and out of your mouth. You stared up to see his face, still the same expression as ever, but with a light blush across his cheeks. Were you not making him feel good..?

As if the eel merman could sense your feelings, he gave you firm praises telling you how good it feels and to keep going.

As you move faster, Jade starts meeting your pace by moving his hips to meet your mouth, chasing after his own release.

Jade makes light grunts and starts panting when he finally cums into your mouth, staring into your eyes. You swear his heterochromatic eyes glow, whether you have the lights on or not.

“Aah, darling... you were lovely.” Jade praises you and strokes your hair. “I wonder, how you’ll feel if you serviced me with your other holes...” Jade’s smile only grew as he bared his serrated teeth.

Rook Hunt x Reader

lord have mercy im boutta bust part 2

Giving

Rook Hunt is a romantic - he’s over the top, poetic, compliments you endlessly, gives you plenty of affection, what more could you want from a lover? Some may think he was too eccentric but you loved that about him.

You were in his room as he showed you his collection of photos. You knew Rook had a thing for taking candid photos of people, it was quirky and it made him unique! However, when you passed by a certain page, Rook quickly tried to take the album from you frantically.

After finally pulling it back, you open the next pages to see many photos of you from afar, close up photos of your clothed chest and photos of you in gym class, your shorts showing off your thighs shining with sweat. Around the photos were hearts on the photo covers and cute stickers.

Rook visibly grows embarrassed, furrowing his brows and looks away from you.

However, you take the opportunity to bring his chin back to face you, and plant a loving kiss onto his lips. Were you really not creeped out by him?! You already had a feeling Rook would have done something like this. In fact, the idea of him being so fixated on you only turned you on more.

“Mon amour... I’m sorry but you are so ravishing I could not resist.” Rook bites the bottom of your lip, making you gasp. He uses this opportunity to skillfully let his tongue slip into your mouth. Feeling the way his tongue moved over your tongue, you couldn’t help but whisper “I wish I could feel your tongue somewhere else, mon chasseur d’amour...”

Something inside of him awoke when you used what little knowledge of his mother tongue to speak so seductively like that. Swiftly, Rook lifted you from your position on your chair and brought you to his bed.

With your permission, he stripped you down fully naked to be able to admire your beauty. He sighed as his cock twitched in his pants at the sight of your nude form.

It feels like heaven once Rook’s mouth is kissing your lower lips. He moans into your cunt as he tastes your juices - making a show of his tongue working hard on your clit. Vibrations are sent from his throat through your body as he moans while sucking violently on your clit, making you scream in pleasure.

Yet, he doesn’t stop - after he notices you really love when he does that, he keeps going. Now, he slips a finger to your dripping pussy and uses his fingers on his other hands to play with your nipples.

The overstimulation has you screaming, panting his name and squeezing his head into your thighs. You’re cumming as a blubbering mess, only his name leaving your mouth as high pitched squeals.

“Ah, Y/N, mon amour...” Rook’s blonde locks stick to his face in a mixture of his sweat and your juices as he raises his head up. “You were amazing! I wish I could have recorded that so I could watch it over and over again... you won’t mind if I did that next time, right?”

Receiving

You and Rook hadn’t seen each other as often as you’d like, recently. Whether it was with his Science club’s activities, your assignment workload being too intense, or just misalignment of schedule free time, you felt down.

You missed your blonde lover and his affection. Therefore, you hatched a plan. You had ordered a bunny suit and ears and were waiting in his room. You admired the way your thighs and breasts looked in the suit, angled his chair towards the door, sat on it with your legs crossed, and waited.

After minutes that felt like hours, you heard his footsteps and humming from outside of his room. Opening the door, Rook stopped dead in his tracks as he caught sight of you waiting for him.

He dropped his backpack to the floor, closed the door, and practically dashed to where you were sitting, falling to his knees and kissing your pantyhose clad legs.

After a few heated kisses were exchanged from this position, you got up to lift the blonde up from the floor and push him to the chair you were just sitting in.

“Roook~ my love, I’ve missed you...” you whined, unbuckling his pesky uniform pants. “Let me service you today, mon chasseur d’amour~” he groans at the use of his self given nickname leaving your mouth.

Rook watches intently as you pull his pants down and kiss up his legs, stopping where his undergarments started. Gazing up at him with half lidded eyes, you took the fabric down with your teeth, causing him to breathe heavily and moan at the sight

You part your lips and lick his throbbing pink head, tasting the precum as you sink further down his length. Slowly, you bring your head back up only to come back down, sucking his cock eagerly.

Rook had a mirror on his wall that was, luckily, facing him so he could see the view of your back and the way your ass looked in the tight bunny suit you wore. He even fawned over the little tail that was on top.

Cupping his balls and stroking his cock with your free hand and your mouth, you could feel him twitch. Rook brought his calloused hands to entwine his fingers in your hair as he feels himself coming close to his orgasm.

Rook spits nothing but praises into your ears as he releases his seed into your mouth, listening to you gag lightly. You swallow his cum and he pulls you up high enough to kiss you, his greedy tongue tasting himself in your mouth.

“Mon amour, what a little trickster you are, no? I never expected to see you waiting for me... it’s like I got caught in your trap, oui?” Rook wiped his forehead of his sticky sheen of sweat. “My, bunny... you look like you’re in heat. Why don’t we take care of that together? I’ll help you this time...”

Anyways...

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x3kristax3 · 2 years

Text

My forever

Everyone hears those love stories of finding your one true love when you're little but for most it doesn't happen. However for me that's exactly what happened. Our moms worked together at a nursing home and we spent so much time with each other. It was that once in a lifetime kind of friendship to love. By the time I was 10 we were inseparable and everyone knew it. However, that all changed one night.

He was spending the night over with my family as his mom had to work graveyard that month and there was a knock on the door in the middle of the night. We had fallen asleep on the couch watching a movie and were woken up to knocks on the door and red lights in the front yard.

In the six years I had known Jake, I had never seen him cry until that night. The police officers let him stay with us that night but we didn't fall back asleep.

I had seen him one more time since then at the funeral and he hugged me so tight. By the end of the funeral he didn't want to let go of my hand and I didn't want him too until the police and my parents pulled us apart.

He went into the system and while we tried to keep in touch with letters it eventually stopped when I turned 12 and my heart was broken.

When I finally turned 18 I spent 5 years looking for this man. My heart was still attached too with no luck. I had finally given up and tried to move on but no matter what no guy meant the same to me.

Until HIM and I started texting trying to find his sister who was kidnapped. I was instantly drawn to him and there was an instant trust like I had known him my whole life. After everything we had been through we had fallen in love and decided to finally meet in Duskwood.

My heart was pounding out of my chest as I walked into the park. He had told me where to meet him and when I went to the spot he was already there leaning against a tree. I couldn't miss him as he was wearing all black during the middle of the day. I finally caught a glimpse of his eyes as I walked in front of him and my heart I swear stopped. He must have also because he pulled his mask down.

Standing in front of me was Jake, my Jake. The man I fell in love with through texts, but also the same boy I fell in love with and was the reason I couldn't find love again.

Without even saying anything to him I run and jump into his arms and wrap my arms around his neck. I feel his arms around my waist and he holds me until he lets my feet hit the ground. He's staring into my honey golden eyes and me into his electric blue. I see his black hair fall down under his hood.

"Hi, Jake," I said with the biggest smile.

"Hi, my MC" he says with a smile back.

He always called MC growing up because he was the only one besides family to know my middle name abd while I started going by it when I turn 14 hearing him say it sends shivers down my spine.

I gently smack his chest "you have a lot of explaining to do mister. I looked for you for five years once I turned 18 and there was no trace of you" I say with a pouting face.

He leans in and kisses me "I will explain everything to you."

Jakes POV:

She hasn't missed a beat since seeing me. She's still that same playful, loving girl i fell in love with at the age of 13 and my heart never let go over.

I twist us so shes against the tree as Im holding her waist still. I know there's alot to catch up on with her.

"Just before i turn 18 i started getting in a lot of trouble with hacking. Nothing major at the time but enough to keep the police on my tail. I didn't reach out to you then back because I wanted to keep you safe." I sigh knowing these next words are going to be the hardest.

"I had contacted your dad the moment I could and he told me all about you. He knew the moment you turned 18 that you were going to be looking for me and to keep you safe from getting pulled into this life that I had to stay under your radar which is exactly what I did."

"You spoke to my dad but you couldn't reach out to let me know you were damn alive!? I thought you were dead Jake!" She yells.

I kiss her to keep her quite. When I finally pull away she looks shocked that I just did that.

"I know what you thought and I hated letting you think that after the promise I made you the night my world turned upside down. I had all plans on the day I turned 18 to enter back into your life MC. However with everything that was going on it wasn't the right choice to keep you safe."

"I think I'm more mad that my dad knew and didn't give me any hope" she says looking down at her feet.

Her looking away from my eyes has always been a sign she's upset, even as a child. It's one of the things I fell in love with. I lift her head to look into her eyes. "He did it to protect you. Honestly, as hard as it was not reaching out, it was always to keep you safe." I say as I pull her towards me.

"Jake, you're not allowed to disappear again from me. I don't care what you're about to say, I'm coming with you" she says sternly.

I know she's my forever and I want her safe but one thing I learned from her is she's stubborn and I can't stop her from doing what her heart wants.

#duskwood #duskwoodlover #duskwood fanfiction #writing #fanfic #mc x jake #everbyte duskwood #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood fandom #jake duskwood

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songmingisthighs · 3 years

Text

Hooked

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

ch. lxii - curiosity killed the cat

<< previous | masterlist | next >>

??? × reader, ateez × reader

A freshman hookup rekindled into something new. With an incentive, of course. But what would happen if your 'relationship' led you somewhere you never thought would happen to you ?

The three remaining boys, Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Yunho rushed downstairs to see what the commotion was all about. Though they were nervous, they were also curious and they were not going to be the only ones left behind with the information.

But when they stepped onto the living area, they were confused at the sight upon them.

San and Wooyoung were nowhere to be found, Yeosang had a look of utter surprise which was a rare sight, a teary Jongho was standing next to Mingi who was fully crying, and in front of them was a person clad in a black hoodie and a pair of black sweats. The person's back was to the three so they didn't know who it was.

"What's wrong? What happened?" Hongjoong asked with all the strength he could muster. The others who stood in front of the person clad in black could only look at the leader but weren't able to utter a single word.

Slowly, the unknown person turned their body towards the three. All eyes widened and their breaths hitched, the sight before them was just too confusing to comprehend.

"What are you doing here?" Hongjoong asked.

"And who are you?" Yunho added.

The person took his hood off to reveal a man around their age, charming with a glint of playfulness as he smirked at them.

But before he could introduce himself, Mingi had beaten him to the punch, "this is (Y/N)'s cousin who also studied here," he said. The man nodded and grin widely, "Howdy, I'm Haknyeon," he then stuck his hand out for any of the three to shake, "Joo Haknyeon, pleased to meet your acquaintance,"

Before either one of the three could shake his hand, however, Mingi lunged forward to try and grab at Haknyeon's sweater. Luckily, Yeosang and Jongho managed to hold the larger guy back.

"Skip the pleasantries, Haknyeon, and tell them what you told us" he growled. Haknyeon only raised an eyebrow and smirked in amusement, "wow, (Y/N) was right when she said you're a ticking time bomb. No one is ever THAT happy, ever tried counselling, big guy?" he poked.

Then he turned around to the three still confused boys with a distraught expression, "It's about (Y/N)," he started.

"Oh God," Yunho yelped out, his hand immediately gripped onto the arm of the closest person which was Seonghwa.

"What about (Y/N)?" Seonghwa asked, voice cracking from nerves. Haknyeon looked like he didn't wanna talk, but the hopeful eyes in front of him struck something deep in him, "she... left," he said.

"Yeah, she left us, we know that," Yunho clarified, "no, she... LEFT left," Haknyeon stressed.

The boys behind Haknyeon let out choked out tears once again as the Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Yunho felt like their world just shattered.

San and Wooyoung came back from the kitchen, San looking dishevelled and distraught as Wooyoung tailed after him, looking more or less the same but not worse.

"Tell me where she went," San demanded once he fully stood in front of Haknyeon. He was about to grab the stranger's hoodie in his hands but Wooyoung luckily prevented him.

Haknyeon took a step back from San to evade being grabbed, "can't do that, sorry, I promised her," he shrugged simply.

By this point, you could feel the tension in the room. The once sorrowful boys now had veins popping on their foreheads and they seemingly had their brains connected as they took a step towards Haknyeon together. The intruder was cornered in the middle of eight menacing men.

"See, Haknyeon, I told you sticking to the script would've been better,"

All nine heads snapped towards the direction of the kitchen where you stood, hands on your waist and your luggage and bag by your side.

Haknyeon grinned innocently and shrugged, "And where would the fun be there?" he joked, slipping himself from between the boys towards you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and grinned widely at the eight now-dumbstruck men, "If you guys haven't figured it out, I was kidding, (Y/N)'s perfectly fine and she's back, she just needs my help to slip in here as a distraction while she slipped from the back," he said proudly.

But the silence in the room was deafening. Neither one of the boys reacted whatsoever. If you look closely, you're sure that neither of them was even blinking.

Seeing and feeling the tension, Haknyeon cringed and pat your head softly, "yeesh, tough crowd. I'll let you handle them on your own," he said simply before leaving from the back door where you came.

When the door closed behind Haknyeon, you finally realized that you now have to face the consequence of your action.

Luckily, you didn't have to break the silence.

"(Y/N)? Is that really you?" Jongho choked out, surprisingly. Out of everyone there, you thought the first ones to welcome you would've been Mingi, San, or Wooyoung, or even Seonghwa.

A smile broke on your face and your shoulders slumped in relief, "Yeah, it's really me, Ho,"

You were about to take walk towards them all when Yeosang stepped forward with a hand outstretched, motioning you to stop.

"You think you can just easily walk in here and we would just so easily accept you back?" he spat out.

Your feet stopped in its track and your heart dropped to your stomach.

"Accept me back? What do you mean accept me back, was I ever rejected by you all?" you couldn't help but ask, feeling like Yeosang didn't mean what he said.

But you were dead wrong.

"You left out of the blue, without any explanation, leaving us scrambling around like headless chicken looking for you. YOU rejected us first," he said.

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, "I didn't reject you guys- oh my God, I had to get away from here for a while and I couldn't tell any of you! I didn't have time because I was pressed, FORCED to leave and having to keep my mouth shut about everything, I was miserable when I left," your voice cracked on its own mid-sentence without you realizing.

A scoff left Yeosang's mouth, "No one forced you to do anything, (Y/N), you LEFT, you CHOSE to do that all on your own," he turned a bit to point at Mingi, Wooyoung, and Jongho, "You left those three crying their eyes out for you, there wasn't a day when Mingi wouldn't actively go out to look for you with one of the others, do you know that your former RA almost got his ass tied to a restriction order?" he then moved again to point at the three oldest, "Hwa hyung and Yunho barely ate, too stressed to even keep food down, Hwa hyung had to take medicine for the toll of stress on his body and Joong hyung barely went out of his room, he tried to distract himself from the fact that you left without saying anything, some of us had to force him to eat and sleep,"

Then suddenly he gripped onto San's hand and brought him forward. Your heart broke at how sunken San looked, bags under his eyes and he seemed visibly smaller and weaker, "and San here got so depressed that he wasn't able to function whatsoever. I had to make sure he got out of his bed and move around every day or else I'm sure that he would've died," Yeosang's voice cracked as tears began streaming down his eyes.

Yunho took a step forward and look around at everyone, "G-guys, let's calm down a bit-"

But he was cut off by Yeosang who had let his emotion took over him completely.

"You left us! You left us broken-hearted and confused and lonely and ruined! So no, you don't get to waltz here so easily, thinking that we'd just accept you with open arms after the crap you pulled. If you wanted to be a wandering tramp, then why even bother coming back? Did you get bored out there? Or were your conquest turned out to be a failure? We were genuine about you, yet you simply shrugged us off like dust," he screamed at you.

You didn't even realize that your own tears had run down your own face. You looked around for the other boys for help, but neither one were looking at you. They were actively avoiding your stare.

Seeing Yeosang's chest heaving heavily with lips trembling, Seonghwa took a step closer to him and pulled him back slowly.

"Yeosang, come on, man, not like this. Not now. Let's take a deep breath first, okay?" he said softly despite his own obvious bubbling emotion.

Maybe it was the raw emotion and the vulnerable state Yeosang was in, but he simply let Seonghwa drag him back slowly until they both retreated to the stairs.

One by one, starting from Jongho then Hongjoong and Wooyoung, then San slowly followed whilst keeping his eyes glued to the floor, they all left you. Your heartbeat quickened when you watched their retrieving figure, backs towards you so coldly.

Not that you could blame them, Yeosang made a point about you leaving just like that without any notice.

All that left were Yunho and Mingi.

As they looked at each other, you could see that they were debating whether to welcome you or not.

Your hope was immediately crushed as they simply gave you a broken-hearted stare and followed the other six, disappearing to their own rooms.

So all that's left was you, out in the open.

All alone.

Vulnerable.

How you wish you could turn back time and changed your decision.

taglist :

@raysanshine @peachy-maia @xuxiable @90s-belladonna @theclawofaraven @sanraes @sungiehan @felix-kithes @nycol-ie @superstarw99 @skkrtnawrskkrt @viv-atiny @the7thcrow @stfu-xeena @laurademaury @multihoe-net @daisyhwa @scoupshushushu @whyisquill @bikiniholic @yunhorights @exfolitae @simplewonderland @verycooldog2 @perfectlysane24 @hannahdinse8 @tannie13 @aka-minhyuk-kun @phebeedee @em0yunho @marsophilia @donghyuckanti27 @se-onghwa @malewife-supremacy @hyunsukream @elijahbabyb @taejichafe @alliecoady98 @rdiamondbts2727 @hakuna-matata-ya @ohmy-fandoms @spacechubbyatiny @stray-bi-kids @imaaroy @fashi0nablee @rindomo @violetwinters @nabihwa @linhyyboo12 @mirror-juliet @bestboiericsohn

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captain039 · 3 years

Text

A wolfs word

Dracula x reader

Castlevania

Warnings: Mature themes

All the Dracula’s! 😂

You watched the strange magic flow around the place, light blue smoke almost. Your change began before you could escape it, groaning and shifting into a wolf before you had any control.

You awoke in an unfamiliar place, the smells different, an unholy amount of death was in this place. You almost gagged from it, you opened your eyes looked around the dark strange room.

“Fascinating” you jumped at the sound of someone's voice. You looked to the blond-headed man in front of you. His eyes studying you. You were naked, having lost your clothes in the shift. You had something around your neck too.

“Wolf in the night” the man mumbled as he stared at you.

You snapped at his fingers as they came towards before scurrying to the wall.

“Maybe still a wolf” he mumbled turning to the large stone table.

“Why does it smell like dog in here?” A woman’s voice came this time and you looked to the door. Long white hair and sharp blue eyes. Her skin was deathly pale yet she looked vibrant.

“Ah” she spotted you a smirk on her face as she walked over, heels clacking against the stone floor.

“Found her did you?” She asked the man as she knelt by you.

“Passed out in the woods” he waved her off looking at something on the table.

“Oh if Dracula could see you” she whispered stroking your cheek. Your eyes were wide at the name as you saw her fangs as she smiled. You forced yourself into the corner, away from her.

“Oh she knows of us” the woman stood and chuckled before turning back to the man.

“Perhaps we should have an audience for this one” the woman smirked back at you before leaving.

The man said nothing as he left also. You thrashed against the collar around your neck, tried to break the chain also but you couldn’t. It smelt of death in here, ripe death.

You looked around the room, it was too dark to see anything. You thrashed some more before you gave up.

The night had come, the pain flowing through your body confirmed it as you changed.

You laid weakly on the floor, your shifts were never comfortable, never controlled.

“Ah the wolf” the blond haired man returned and unchained you from the wall.

“Come on” he had to drag you most the way, your body shaking and aching.

You were placed in front of a large group of hooded people and a few others in front, native looking. You lifted your head and looked at them, all vampires. What did they want from you?

“Why have you called me?” The voice was deep and tired. You looked back eyes wide and tail between your legs as you saw Vlad Dracula.

“I have found something my lord” the blond haired man spoke and gestures to you.

“A scared pup?” The man said eyebrows raised as he stared at you.

“She is half human half beast” the blond said.

“Yes?” The man was unamused by your presence. You thought you might escape, you bit the blonds hand and snatched your chain from him before running behind the large chair. You ran for ages the castle a maze of halls and rooms.

You hid in one, a dim fire but a great hiding spot behind the large table. They ran straight past thankfully.

You shook under the table, trying to bite the chain off, some form of magic held it together.

“Good hiding place” the door closed after the voice and you jumped. You stared at Dracula in fear.

“I must admit it’s been a while since I’ve seen your kind” he sighed coming to you and kneeling.

“Let’s get this off” his finger nail sliced through the tough leather and the collar fell to the floor.

“You can breathe now” he mumbled picking up the leash and laying it on the table. He sighed and sat in the large chair by the fire.

“Hector is fascinated with animals you see, half human, half wolf was no doubt going to get his attention” the man sighed head resting in his hands.

“I’ll let you out in the morning, hopefully he finds something else to play with” the man grumbled standing up and taking his cloak off. You flinched and held your eyes shut as he came over. But the material fell over you like a blanket.

“Staying here would be best for now” he said going back to his chair and sitting down. You sniffed at the cloak, an odd calming scent coming from it. You stared at the vampire, he was exhausted. This war that’s been raging was all from him, had he given up?

You laid down despite not wanting to sleep, but shifting exhausted you.

You awoke to the soft crack of the fire and warmth. You sighed a little clutching whatever was covering you before you shot up. You cursed hitting your head on the table as you rolled out from under it and clutched your head

“You alright?” You jumped at the soft voice and looked behind your shoulder at the vampire towering behind you. You felt tiny compared to him. You held the cloak tighter faint memories of last night coming back.

“No” you grumbled holding your head, it throbbed, you shot up too fast.

“Why the hell did your pet catch me?!” You snarled in rage as you turned to him. Instantly regretting it as he raised an eyebrow at you. But he smiled, an amused chuckle coming from him which made you flush.

“He is a child, he loved finding wounded pets” he said taunting you.

“I am not a pet nor am I wounded, you should control them” you turned your back on him again and took a deep breath. Your heart was pounding and your body was shaking.

“You were passed out in the forest, it was wounded enough for him” the vampire moved to stand in front of you, his amused smile still there.

“You said you’d let me go” you said quietly hoping he’d keep his promise.

“It isn’t morning yet, nobody’s asleep” you cursed glancing to the closed door.

“I’m much quicker than you pup” he whispered a slight smirk on his face. He was toying with you, this didn’t feel like a tired old man in a war, he looked like he was having fun.

“Shall I fetch you some water and food?” He asked as your stomach grumbled at the thought. You flushed hugging the cloak tighter to you.

“I hope you’ll stay” he said leaving and locking the door. You bashed the door huffing as it didn’t budge. You cursed looking around the room, it was an office by the books, desk and fire.

He came back quickly, the door opening and closing while you huffed in his chair.

“I must admit last time I saw your kind it wasn’t this- peaceful” you glared at the fire at his words as he laid the food and drink down on the desk.

“You should just kill me” you said staring him down.

“Isn’t that the point of this war? Kill everything so it’s only you vampires here” he frowned at your words and stared to the ground.

“Humans must die” he said and you scoffed going to the desk. You smelt the bread and fruit, nothing to off about them.

“I assure you they aren’t poisoned” he said sitting back in his chair. You glared holding the cloak close as you sat and ate a piece. You sighed a little at the delicious taste, you ate some more, stomach settling.

“I am human” you said as he stared at the fire.

“Half human” he corrected making you tsk.

“Still human in me” you snapped huffing.

“You think every single human had it out for your wife? You never turned her into a vampire, she helped people last I checked, many people would’ve been greatful-“ he snarled and moved quickly. His hand held your throat, his harsh panting in your ear. You held your breath, trembling on the spot.

“Don’t ever speak about my wife” he said deadly low.

“You can’t just kill an entire race for what one being did” you hated yourself for speaking as his grip tightened.

“It was more than one” he snarled.

“And they’re dead” you whispered his grip loosening.

“Lives for a life, more now, nobody dares disobey the church, that man is cruel just like you” you felt him question himself, his grip loosening as he panted confused.

“An innocent little girl playing with her mother never knew what happened, nor will she, she will look to her mother in happiness at the life she has now, with the people she has now, praying she can see the days of her adulthood” You felt his grip tighten and stopped.

“What would she want?” You asked turning to him. He stared at you, his eyes red with his previous rage. He let go of your throat, backed away and sat back in his chair hunched over.

You caught your breath, heart pounding, you had just him that he was stupid, in a sense, better words and meaning, but still saying he was stupid.

You watched the sun rise through the drapes, he didn’t move nor did he speak. You had finished your meal and headed to the door finding it unlocked.

“She will see her adulthood” you heard softly as you saw freedom.

#x reader #fanfic #count dracula #vampires #dracula x reader #castlevania #castlevania x reader

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sp00kworm · 3 years

Text

Iron Lake

---

Pairing: Qene (Male God [Bird Creature]) x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Wound Descriptions, Blood

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Ore was rich in the valleys once. The entire hillside was covered in small mine shafts for digging up iron ore for smelting in the iron works, and that lead to several settlement villages between the city and the ocean. Your family had lived on the final reaches of the valley, towards the sea, for many generations, until the collapse. The men worked as miners, and the women worked the farms. Your own family, however, had moved on long ago. When the iron ore ran dry, and the mine shafts began to collapse, the village was left to the farmers and creatures which plagued the woods and hills. You looked at your sturdy cottage and the barns surrounding it as you sat on top of the newly built dry-stone wall you had just finished. It had collapsed with a recent bull charge and you’d spent a long time building it back up higher so he couldn’t get at your cows. A few heifers were too young and now steered clear of the wall, wandering along the other side of the field. You didn’t blame them. The bull was a neighbour’s, and rarely did he have the beast under control. Smoking a pipe called you, but it was a habit that was best left alone living so rural. You patted your nearest cow and fed her a handful of weeds before taking your bucket and heading to your chickens, which were clucking around the few ewes you had.

The chickens ran on small legs as you shook the feed bucket, and you grinned as you leaned over to toss them some food. The ewes were slower to move and trotted over as you headed to their small food trough and hay basket. You shovelled more hay in from under the shelter and locked the gate before filling their feed and water troughs. The chickens were back following you around as you tapped their own feed buckets again and herded them back into their coop. They happily ignored you closing the caging in favour of the food you had put in their own trough. Whistling, you took all the buckets and closed the gates to the fields, heading back towards the small storage and utility shed to put everything away. The wind rushed over the long grass at the top of the hill and you paused to look up as the sky rumbled with the beginnings of rain. Sure enough, as you looked to the herd, they were heading back to the shelter. There was rain on the way. You tutted and made sure to put everything away before rushing to cover the chickens and make sure the sheep had their own shelter with their raised bedded platform.

As you finished checking on the cows, the heavens opened, and you rushed for your small porch, sprinting under the cover as the rain came lashing down, soaking your shirt and bottoms through. The cotton clung to you as you shuddered by the door, watching the grey clouds blur with falling water over the top of the mountain in the distance. It was colder now, and you opened your door to stoke the fire and dry your clothes. You grumpily tugged your wet clothing off and hung it in front of the fire before you rekindled the embers and wrapped yourself tightly in a heavy blanket of white wool. The rain thundered on the roof, and you warmed your toes before pulling on a small pair of moccasins and peering through the glass in your windows. The animals were huddled together out of the rain as it gave the grass and small crop garden you had a good soak. It was miserable. You perched yourself on the small table and watched the weather with a hum.

“And I had so much to do today too.” You lamented quietly.

The rain was white noise after a while, and the clouds rolled over head, still full of rain when you peered back up at the sky. You jumped as a great screech sounded overhead, inhuman, furious and in pain. It sounded again with the thunderous boom of a weapon, and you jumped from the window at the flash of gun powder in the far distance, over the mountain top. Your home shook with another screeching wail as the flashes stopped and the clouds rolled again, the wind howling through the unsealed stone cracks in your cottage. There was another boom of thunder as the cries of the creature paused for a moment. You prayed they hadn’t just shot at a dragon. Dragons were harder than steel plating and bullets or canons did very little damage to their interlinked scales. Fury would follow an injured dragon, but there was no hiss and boom of burning flames. Another ear-piercing screech followed down the mountainside, as a great black figure soared into the clouds and disappeared overhead. It’s shadow hung over the top of the hill as it zipped down through the valley before it screeched again and plunged from the sky, spinning in a mass of glorious golden brown and tawny feathers before it plummeted into the muddy cow field in a mass of feathers, dirt and blood.

The cows mooed violently before trotting out to investigate the lump, the younger females hanging back under the wooden shelter. You watched the feathers float from the sky, shellshocked, before you rushed for your damp clothing and pulled it all back on. You threw on your hooded cloak and rushed out into the rain and wind. The cows called as you rushed to the fence and thumped at their flanks harshly, batting their tongues away from the creature’s wounds. It hissed, feathers brushing upwards as you dared to touch its giant body. It was huge, easily over twelve feet long, the long tail feathers crumpled under its cut legs. It had a great talon missing from one of it’s feet, and blood thrummed from the wound. You rushed to its head.

“Oh, my Sun…” You cursed as you looked at the burning orange eyes that peaked out from the great, fluffy crown of feathers. A beak opened as it hissed again, another, weak scream of upset. A threat, you realised as it’s feet moved and talons slashed at the floor.

“Don’t!” You pushed it’s shoulder as the orange bled to black and it turned onto its other side, flopping over in its attempts to push itself back onto its feet.

“You’re killing yourself!” You screamed at it as it flexed its wings and black blood spewed from its mouth. You gasped at the cavern in its side, bleeding black tar and red blood over its beautiful, soft feathers. It screeched again, madness taking over as it thrashed to get itself upright and managed, shaking on its swollen, bleeding foot. The wound to its torso was heavily bleeding, and blood poured with the stress and movement, revealing the two-inch diameter iron ball wedged in between its ribs.

“Stop!” You screeched again, putting your hands on its wings before two hard arms extended out of the feathery chest. The clawed hands snatched at you, lifting you high to its bleeding black eyes as you gasped. With a small scream, the creature reared its head back and paused as you covered its eyes, small hands encompassing its blackened gaze. Its wings sagged as it’s beak opened to let tar leak from its gullet.

“You’re going to die if you don’t let me get that bullet out of you!” You shouted up at it, clinging to its face, “Let me help you, please.”

The bird-like creature sagged, its wounded feet giving in as it paused to retch blood up once more and placed you back on the floor with a croak. The croak bubbled with tar and blood as its feathers shifted and it looked up at your little cottage. The wind shifted and blew violently, soaking the both of you with more, icy rain.

“I will not fit.” It whispered deeply, as though its voice was being carried to your ears on the wind itself.

“You can…talk…” You commented, stunned for a moment as it opened its mouth, “There’s a barn to the back. I used to keep the horse in there, but its empty now.” You reasoned as you opened the gate and coaxed the bleeding beast through the rungs. It cried out as its claws got stuck in the cattle grating, the wound from the missing toe tearing and bleeding over the wooden slats. The creature followed, feathers dripping from its body in a bloody trail as it struggled behind you, croaking and wheezing as you heaved open the doors to the horse barn and opened the door to a stall.

The creature flopped into the stall, its burning eyes dripping with tar as it wheezed, wings ruffling as it struggled to keep the gapping wound in its chest off the stone floor. You rushed to kick over a great barrel of sawdust to mop up the blood before disappearing back into the howling wind and rain to grab what little medical supplies you had. A crow squawked by your window as you rushed into the front door, his beady eye following you before it hopped into the house and cawed again, louder. Cursing, you grabbed your old sheets and shoved them into the large cooking pot with the rest of the water from the well. The fire was roaring, and they would soon be clean enough to wrap the wounds. The poultices were a little old, but they smelt fresh and clean, of mint and lavender, and you grabbed the jars and your needles and some fine thread. It would be a botch job at best, but it was all you could do for the creature. You also made sure to grab something for the pain, grabbing a bottle of dragon fire whiskey as you grappled the cooking pot of boiling sheets and shouldered the other supplies. The crow followed you out of the house again and cawed, but you paid it no mind, even as more small birds flocked with it under your porch and in the fields.

The creature was wheezing against the floor, barely breathing, when you returned, and you cursed as its eye opened, devoid of any honey colour, just filled with black. Its eyes rolled and closed.

“Try and stay awake. Please. I need you awake to stop the bleeding.” You scrubbed your hands and hung the sheets to dry as you looked at his chest again, eyeing the iron ball wedged under his bottom rib, mashed in with broken feathers and splinters of stone. With a shaky hand, you took hold of your small set of forceps, usually used to help cows calf, and soaked them in the boiling water before you dared to ease them under the plumage and grip the bullet. The creature screamed but didn’t lash out, and so, you committed, heaving the bullet down, and out of its chest with a rush of tar like goo and blood. It croaked against the stone and you reached for the fresh water and salt to rinse the sharp pieces of feather and stone away before you plucked the broken feathers around the wound away and eyed the wound for any other artifacts. It was clean. You jumped as one of the creature’s leather skinned arms appeared from out of the feathers of its chest and reached for the large bottle of whiskey you had brought. It hissed and pulled the cork free with its beak before pouring the strong alcohol into its gullet, grumbling, and croaking after with the burn.

“That much will knock you out good.” You promised as you stroked its feathery chest and pulled out your needle, sterilising it in the boiling water before you threaded it, knotted the end, and got to work, suturing the wound closed where you could, as tightly as you dared. The bird creatures’ skin was dark underneath its feathers, leathery to the touch and tanned. You closed the final part of the wound and tried not to slip too much as you knotted the end with blood slick fingers. The tar was gone, no longer leaking from its eyes and mouth. Quietly, you listened to it breathe, wheezing softly against the floor. You took hold of the mint poultice and applied a layer with honey over the wound to soothe the raw, sore skin. Wings shuffled as you reached to tear apart your sheets into large strips to wrap the wound. It cried as you returned and eased its chest up enough to reach around, duck under its arms and wrap the whole thing tightly. You pinned it before letting it rest as you cleaned and wrapped its foot, wondering if the toe would need cauterizing as you left it be, snoozing in an alcohol induced sleep. You made sure to pile hay around him for the night before you closed the doors tightly and looked at your cottage.

The crow from before cawed again from your small porch, fluttering about the floor before it landed by your window and watched you as you hauled your supplies back inside.

“What’s brought you here?” You asked, “I don’t have any seeds for you!” You shouted as it followed you into the house and settled itself over the top of your fire, seated in a small handkerchief on your mantle place.

“Fine. Make yourself at home then.” You scoffed as you looked over at your cooking pot and poured the water out of the window. You were drenched through to the bone and you shuddered as you stoked the fire again and stripped off your clothing. You hung it by the fire and sniffled as you dried off and then wrapped yourself back in your large blanket, content to snuggle into your large armchair and warm your toes by the flames. It was soothing to hear the rain slow to a patter against your roof and the soft cawing of the crow nestled in front of you. Your eyes drooped as you snuggled into the blanket and forgot about the creature laid in your barn.

A great squawk in your ear woke you up, and you jumped awake violently before the crow stomped over your lap and jumped up and down on the arm of your chair. You looked at it in confusion before pushing the blanket away and shuddering. It was cold. Using the blanket as a shawl, you stoked the fire again, throwing some more kindling and then logs into the embers to get it going as the crow fluttered into your kitchen and snapped at the crumbs on the side. You huffed and pulled out a small bag of sunflower seeds before you put a small handful in a bowl and watched the crow go to town.

“You’re a weird little thing.” You commented before going to get dressed in the small room you had to the left side of the cottage, leaving the crow to eat and hop around, so long as it didn’t decide that your floor was a good place to poop.

The crow was still on the countertop when you returned, watching you through one, beady black eye, as you walked towards it. It flapped in protest as you stood in front of it but didn’t squawk or fly away. It stared back at you, its head turned and tilted up to see you properly.

“Are you here for the creature?” You asked, no louder than a whisper.

In response, the crow flapped again and gave one short, loud honk.

“Hm. I don’t think I trust you just yet.” You scolded gently before you offered your hand to the crow. The corvid pecked a finger before stepping onto your hand and skipping up your arm, hopping as it went along your sleeve, its beak holding itself up when it slipped against the cotton.

“Come on then. Let’s go and see how our house guest…well, our barn guest, is doing.” You tapped the crow’s beak and headed towards the door. You both looked up at the morning sun and smiled, thankful for the sunshine. The crow flapped again and spread its wings to soak in the rays before you turned to head around the back of the cottage where the barn was.

The rain had washed away most of the blood, leaving clumps of muddy feathers around the rocks and fence posts as the evidence that the creature had passed through. You stepped over a puddle and heaved open the barn door. A great rumbling croak sounded as you stepped inside, leaving the door open a little to let the morning air in. The creature’s feathers dragged against the piles of hay and the stone floor, as it struggled to raise its head. When it managed to get high enough, one, burning orange eye peered over the top of the stall, eyeing you as you approached the wooden gate.

“Good morning.” You uttered as it flopped back against the floor with a sad, long croak. The crow on your shoulder squawked again before fluttering down to the great beast and moving from the bottom of its tail feathers to its hooked beak. It opened one giant eye and huffed before looking at you again and opening its mouth.

“Sustenance.” Its great voice rumbled before closing its eyes again, struggling to swallow as the crow pecked gently at the loose feathers on its face, pulling them free before it tapped its beak against the other and flew up to the side of the stall.

“Food?” You asked, “Well, I have some but certainly not enough to feed you. You’re giant, if you don’t mind me saying and I don’t know if I could feed you.” You confessed, holding the top of the gate as the creature hissed lowly and dragged its great claws along the floor.

“I will hunt.” It rasped.

“NO!” You grabbed it’s shoulder, gently pulling it back down, “You’ll open all of my hard work. You, sit there. And you,” you pointed to the crow, “you’re coming with me.”

The crow nodded and fluttered out of the barn. Before you could turn to follow, the giant bird-creature rustled its feathers and its leathery, clawed hand appeared, holding your waist to keep you in place.

“Thank…you.” It hissed, “I am… Qene.”

It’s name was hissed, a long pronunciation of E’s which made you wonder just of what race is was. If it was a fae, it would not have told you it’s true name, lest you bind it in contracts. You introduced yourself quietly and it nodded, slowly, exhausted still.

“I am…God of the Valley. Wind, weather and bird.” Qene rasped, “He who…controls the mountains.”

“A…God?” You whispered as the creature let go of your waist, “A god in my barn and…”

Qene huffed and collapsed again in his hay bedding.

“I’ve got questions but let me feed you first. What do you eat?” You asked.

Qene raised his beak from the hay to speak, his voice like a small thunderous rumble, “Meat. I hunt…deer and elk. Anything to then give back to the…” His eyes closed slowly, the orange disappearing behind his eyelid before he fell back asleep.

“I guess a chicken might have to do…or maybe I can get a deer from Thriskar.” You pondered as you followed the crow out of the barn and went for your bag and a bow.

Thriskar scoffed at your request, “A deer? A whole one?” The orc sniffed before he carried on skinning the buck he had strung up outside his small home, “What the fuck do you need a whole…” he smirked then, suddenly, as though he had been told the funniest joke, “Do you have company over? Wanting to impress?”

With a snort, you were quick to flip your middle finger up at the orc, “Yeah, fuck you. I need it for pickling and smoking. I want to not live off my cows again this winter.”

“Well, you’re in luck then.” Thriskar commented, rolling his eyes as he wiped the blood from his hands and pointed to the young buck hanging in his shop, “I caught that yesterday. Should be drained enough for smoking now if you want it.”

“How much?” You asked, sceptically.

Thriskar grinned as he tapped the counter in his shop, perching himself, leaned over the counter, before he tapped his lips, “A kiss and four bronze, or seven bronze if you’re feeling less generous.”

“You’re the worst.” You commented as you handed him the seven bronze coins, “I should be able to carry it before you offer that too.”

“Here.” Thriskar laughed as he pulled the creature’s pelt out and tied the deer in a sling like fashion around your back, “You should get it back now.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, don’t make a habit of it okay? I won’t give you the skin for free in future!” he warned as he saw you out of the door and down the path back towards home.

The crow squawked overhead, and you saw Thriskar look up and shake his head before the crow landed on your shoulder.

“Well done. Now he really will think I’m a witch or something.” You scolded the crow as it hopped from your right shoulder, over to your left.

“You don’t need me for that. He likes you enough to want a kiss, doesn’t he? Does that affection not prove anything?” The crow squawked.

You felt your back go cold, “How…can you…”

“Talk?” It asked, “I am…omnipresent within my children.”

“Qene?” You asked as the crow eyed you.

“Yes…” It rasped tiredly, “I wanted to ensure you would be safe.”

“I’ll be fine! There’s nothing but pesky fae and annoying goblins, and they know not to mess with me. I like salt, iron and flowers too much.” You smiled. The crow’s head turned again before it let out another squawk and shook its wings and head violently, as though it had been released from some kind of spell.

“Yeah, I can’t imagine that was lots of fun, huh?” You asked as you stroked the crow’s head and carried on along the path.

Home was a great greeting of farm animals. The chorus was loud and upset, as they had expected their food early in the morning and now it was almost midday. You heaved the deer off your back and onto the porch. The cows crowded the gate as you went to retrieve a hay bale with a pitchfork. There was a lot to tend to before you could give your guest the food he needed. The cows were happy for their filled hay and you were quick to give the sheep and chickens their food before you dragged the deer away from your little crow friend, and towards the large barn on your back. You opened the door and peered inside. Once again, Qene lifted his head, just high enough to see over the top of the stable door, his burning orange gaze looking directly at you.

“I’m back.” You smiled, “And I got you this!”

“Meat?” Qene droned over the top of the stable, “Deer…. No innards.”

“We don’t tend to eat the insides…the intestines are for sausages though.” You told him as you opened the door and laid the deer over the stone floor.

“Sausages?” Qene rasped, his head tilted as his feather’s rustled, and he pulled himself along the floor, his beak opening.

Spit dripped from his beak as his tongue extended, pointed and tanned like his skin. He licked at his beak before he took a great chunk out of the hind of the deer.

“Thank you.” Qene rumbled as he threw his head back and swallowed the chunk of deer, “This…will help.”

“You’re welcome.” You smiled as you reached to pluck one of his feathers from the floor, looking at the now dull brown colour. When it had been attached to his face, it was shiny, golden and beautiful.

Qene ripped more from the deer and noticed you spinning the crushed feather by its quill, “They do not live once they are detached…True power flows through them, but they cannot be removed with it forcefully.”

“What kind of power?” You asked as you sat by the stable door, “I’ve…Well, I guess you are a God.”

Qene scoffed, “It is why I took a bullet to the chest.”

“They’re after your feathers?”

“Yes. Fools that they are.” Qene snorted again over the carcass, “Even if they have no value when they are forcibly plucked.”

You decided not to press the issue, and simply sat as Qene ate, intrigued by the way he plucked at the meat, tearing it all from the bones before smashing open the bones for the marrow inside, his tongue licking at the blood and goo before the bones were then crushed and eaten.

“We really should change your bandages.” You offered as the God finished crunching the brains inside the skull.

“There is no need.” Qene grumbled as he swallowed the last pieces of his meal, “This will be enough for me to heal fully.” His eye turned on you again, “And soon I will be out of your hair.”

“What do you mean you’re almost healed?” You scoffed, “Let me see.”

Qene chuffed and opened his bandages with a swipe of his claws, “See for yourself.”

You shuffled through the hay and looked at the exposed wound below his ribcage. Except, now it was no longer a gaping wound, it was a healing wound, scabbed over where you had stitched it, the flesh filling the line quickly, and moving by the second.

“How is that happening?” You asked in fascination, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I am the God of this valley. God of the Iron Lake valley. I am not…held by your mortal deigns.” Qene rasped, his voice growing in strength like a thunderstorm now that he had eaten, “But I would…like some more of that Dragon Fire Whiskey, if you have anymore?”

You looked at his feet and noticed his toe had not grown back, but was quickly snapped from your revere as you smiled and laughed, “More whiskey? Its only just past midday but sure. I’ll go and get the rest of the bottle for you, since you’re a God and all that.” You turned to stand and opened the stall, “Does it even have an effect on you?”

The God huffed and opened his beak in something that looked like a smile, his claws tucked under his head and his wings blanketed over his body, “Not greatly, but it is strong, so I can feel the effects for a moment.”

“So, when you chugged it for the pain…”

“It did not help for a long time.” Qene confirmed, “But I am grateful for your help. Without you, I would have gone mad and destroyed much of this place in my agony.”

“Well, you’re welcome. It’s the least I could do after what other humans did to you. Now, let me get you that whiskey.”

Qene’s feather’s rustled in the valley winds, and he raised his head as he stepped out of the barn, his claws dragging on the floor before he spread his wings and let the wind run through his feathers. A few final dead ones fluttered away on the wind, browning as they disappeared up the hills.

“It feels like an eon since I felt the wind.” Qene rumbled as he flapped his wings and stood tall to look over the fields and up to the mountain, “I will now no longer burden you.”

“I…I’m glad you’re well, but…” You looked at the mountain again, “Won’t they be waiting for you?”

“Waiting for me?” Qene rumbled, his head tilted to peer down at you, “They may be, but my home is my own…”

“Why not stay here?” You asked as the small crow cawed and landed on your shoulder, “They won’t look for you here.”

“And why would you want this?” he asked as he dipped his head, “I am not of your kind, nor am I a welcome guest. I fell into your home.”

“But you are also a welcome one now.” You smiled at him, “I don’t mind you being here. You even helped me get those hay bales out of the barn.”

Qene’s eyes looked to the mountain with longing, “My home…”

“You can go and see…but if you want to come back then…”

Qene lowered his beak to your head, pressing the top to the top of your skull before he looked you in the eyes and licked at your cheek, “Silly human. I…” he rumbled, “I will see my home, but I will return…for visits or for…If my home is not inhabitable.”

You reached up to his face and carefully stroked along Qene’s feathered neck, the golden feathers soft and pretty, “Come back when you want.” You smiled, “Maybe you can replace the whiskey you drank, huh?”

Qene laughed, his beak open and eyes closed, “Perhaps…Or maybe I can bring you something better?”

“Something better?” You asked.

The God nodded his head, “I will bring you a feather, if I return, and weave it into your hair.”

“To what end? What does that mean?” You stroked his neck.

“That you are chosen by me, by the valley god…” he confessed, “That you will be my priestess.”

You laughed softly, “I don’t know about being a religious figure but…”

“You will be mine?” Qene rumbled, his wings flexing.

“Maybe I will, Qene.” You promised before the God flexed his wings and pounded them three times, lifting from the field and into the air.

The crow on your shoulder rubbed its head under your chin, “I will be here. My eyes see everything.”

“I know, Qene. Good luck.” You whispered to the crow before the shadow in the clouds disappeared back towards the mountain.

Weeks past with warm weather and pleasant breezes. The mountain was silent, looming in the distance over the valley, and you tended to your animals and small vegetable patch. Thriskar came for some milk and eggs, looking at the sudden brightness to your animals and farm.

“It is like a God has touched this place!” He commented over a cold glass of milk one day, crunching carrot sticks between his teeth as he looked at the farm. His comment made you wonder just where Qene was. Since he had left the farm had been brighter, fuller of life, but quiet and Qene had not spoken through your crow companion for a long time. You were beginning to think something had happened, and often you went to bed after leaving a bottle of whiskey on the porch. This night, you did the same, placing the bottle out on the porch with a small candle in a holder, before heading to bed.

The next morning you opened the door and stood over a single, golden feather. The feather glowed in the early morning light, bright and brilliant, burning with power. The whiskey was uncorked, and the candle blown out. You rushed for both items, grabbing the feather, and clutching it close before you rounded the corner and thundered into the barn. Qene’s orange eye slowly peered over the top of the stall.

“Hello, little bird.” Qene rumbled before he pushed open the gate, “It has been a while.”

“Qene!” You rushed to the bird creature and hugged him around the neck.

Qene raised his neck and hung you before he gripped you around the waist and smiled, clucking softly with a purr before he placed you back on the floor, “I have missed you. My home is gone, destroyed and trapped. I…I searched for somewhere, but I have ended up back at your doorstep.”

“So…You’re here to stay?” You asked gently.

He nodded his head, “If I am welcome. I will make a home here and…I would like to know more about you.”

You looked up at the eagle face. His eyes were covered by golden and brown feathers, and you reached up to push them away, staring at the orange eyes of the God.

“You were always welcome.” You cooed before kissing the top of his beak.

“Thank you, little bird.” Qene cooed back as his leathery skin rubbed against your own, “The whiskey was a treat.” he chuckled.

“You’re going to have to give me some way to buy more! It’s so expensive!” You scolded.

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