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lily-drake · 3 years

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Happy Birthday Jason!

Jason ran as fast as he could through the streets back to his apartment where he knew his twin sister was waiting for him. He raced up the fire escape and did a special tap against the window before opening it and entering the rundown broken apartment building. As soon as he set his feet on the grossly stained carpet he felt a small body ram into him.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY JAY-JAY!”

His small sister, Marinette, cheered loudly as she crushed him in a hug. He smiled as he hugged her back.

“Hey Pix. Have you been good, didn’ cause too much trouble did ya?”

She shook her head against his chest and then jumped back as she ran towards their thin dirty sheet they used at night and brought it over to him.

“Abuela gave me some money for cleaning her floors, so I gotcha somethin’!”

He pulled out a small cheap cardboard box from his hoodie pocket and handed it to her.

“Picked up enough money to get you somethin’ too.”

Her smile brightened, her smile didn’t belong in such a dark place. They traded the gifts to each other and both were extremely happy. Jason had given Marinette a small bracelet with a red string and different colored beads. Marinette had gotten her brother an old book from the thrift shop that obviously used, but it was still good enough to be able to properly read from. The book was titled Pride and Prejudice. He looked so awed by the book and she felt immense pride in herself. There was a bit of bread left over from a few days ago and Marinette made sure it was equally split so her brother also had his proper fill. It was his birthday too after all!

When it was time to go to sleep Jason read a chapter of the book to her then, the big meanie, made her read a chapter for him. She stuttered a lot, but he would just smile and help her pronounce the word. She was so lucky to have such an amazing big brother.

~~~~~~~~ It just didn’t feel right. He had been living in the manor for a year now, and today felt so wrong without her. Marinette had been taken by CPS three months before he had been caught stealing the tires off of the Batmobile. He needed the money to hire a private investigator in order to find his sister. It’s not that he didn’t trust Bruce, he just didn’t want him to put his sister into the danger that he was putting himself into as the new Robin. He just knew that she would insert herself into vigilante life if she knew he was doing it.

Alfred seemed to understand what he was going through as he walked into the kitchen. He didn’t know how the man knew, but he learned not to question it after spending about half a year in the manor. He was silently eating his pancakes when Dick burst into the room yelling,

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY J-BIRD!”

While scooping him into his trademark octopus hugs. Jason struggled to get out of it as shock and adrenaline coursed through his veins. Instincts from living on the streets for many years never really going away.

“How old are you now? You’re 14, right?”

“Yea, now get off me!”

He did not in fact get off of Jason, at least not until Alfred told him to a few seconds later. Rolling out his arms and shoulders he rolled his eyes at his brother and turned back to his food. After a few moments of peace Dick poked his arm to get his attention. Jason sighed and turned to the side to look at Dick.

“Yes?”

“Here, I got you a present.”

Dick said with a bright smile that reminded him so much of his younger sisters. He looked down and saw a rectangular looking thing hidden behind brightly colored and nicely wrapped wrapping paper. Jason carefully took the book with a small thank you nod and tore open the paper to be met with a nice hard cover book of Peter Pan.

“I know we already have it in the library, but I thought you would want your own, and I just felt like you would like it.”

Dick said as he saw the gentle, reminiscent(?) look in Jason’s eyes as he stared at the book. Jason willed himself not to cry as he stared at the book. The book that inspired the nickname he gave his sister. Abuela had read this book to them while they had stayed at her home during a harsh winter day. Bless her soul, he knew that she was in the best place of heaven, if that place even existed.

Barbara walked into the kitchen with a bright smile and ruffled his hair.

“Happy birthday Jay.”

She said happily. Jason looked up and gave her a small smile.

“Thanks.”

He hugged the book close to his chest.

“Means a lot.”

~~~~~~~~ Jason was angry, he didn’t understand why this was happening. His body burned and everything felt like it was burning with pain. He was training in the League with Talia. He thought he had found a hint on where his sister was, and apparently his actual birth mother. No, it was just a trap, and he had died by Joker's hands, and his sister wasn’t even there! Now he spent the day training with Talia and whoever she saw fit to handle him. His thoughts wandered to what his sister was doing, to what her life was like, if she was part of a good home, if she was still on the streets, if she was even alive. No, of course she was, she had to be. He refused to believe that she was gone before he could see her again.

They are both 17 now, almost adults. He would find her, but first he had to prove to Talia that he was ready. He had to take out Bruce and his replacement. D* that man, how dare he replace him like that. He wasn’t just some tool, he was a person, he was important, he would show just how important he was. This birthday was filled with rage that fueled him through the day, it was his motivation to find her one day and get his revenge.

~~~~~~~~ Jason watched silently as he attended a Justice League meeting with the rest of his family and Leaguers. It was still rocky with his family, and he hadn’t been able to find a clue to where his sister was. He still hadn’t told the others about her, though he was pretty sure B already knew about her from doing a background check or something. He had never brought her up or done anything that made him think he actually knew about her though. He had celebrated his 19th birthday, and so was she. He was sure that she was still alive though. He could never believe that she had passed.

A bright blue portal opened in the middle of the room just as expected. Apparently Paris’s heroes were coming for a meeting or something today to discuss the Hero Ban there. Five people in some form of animal themed suits walked through it. A cat that looked like he could be Selina’s child, a bee, a snake, a dragon, and a ladybug.

“Hello, I am Coccinelle and we are here to discuss the ban that we put up during Hawkmoth’s reign.”

He looked up suddenly, his eyes transfixed on the girl in the Ladybug suit that spoke. His heart began to pick up racing quickly. Her voice was so achingly familiar. Her English was slightly accented in French, but it also had a small Gotham tint to it.

If this was a trick he would find a way to make the universe pay for this. He hoped, he prayed to whatever God out there that existed that this was truly a gift from the universe. He hadn’t realized that he had walked towards her until he was at her level staring into her eyes.

“Red Hood, what are you doing?”

Batman asked in his gruff voice. He gently took off his helmet and mask before taking both her hands in his at her gasp.

“What are you doing, you bonehead fool?!”

Robin yelled at him, his glare intensifying.

Tears welled up in those oh so familiar blue eyes. He had to be sure though.

“Marinette, is that you?”

She gave him a small nod before pulling her into a bone crushing hug. Sobs left the young girl and silent tears fell down his cheeks as he ran his fingers through her hair in a comforting manner.

“J-Jason...I-I’m-”

“Shhh, it’s ok Pixie-Pop. I got ya. I’m not leavin’ ya again.”

It was silent around them as everybody observed what was happening, though the Miraculous team was shocked they smiled in a gentle knowing way. A birthday gift from the universe it seemed, he wouldn’t curse it again…..At least he wouldn’t until the next world ending event. He had his sister back in his arms, and that’s all he could ever ask for.

_________

I’m going to start an @ list. If you want to be part of it comment your favorite part of the story or any story I’v written! Thank you for reading!

#maribat #sibling jasonette #twin au #twin jasonette #platonic jasonette #Happy birthday Jason

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avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years

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Phantom Children Ch. 8

What's this? An update! Massive thanks to my betas for helping me get through this chapter <3

In Which: A few answers are given to the family and Danny is rudely awoken

[Side note: If you wanna know the general ages of the batfam, its listed in the AO3 version. I also talk about katanas in the end notes ^-^]

AO3 | Prologue | 7 | [ 8 ] | 9 DAMIAN INFORMED TODD—and Drake when he arrived on his bike sometime later on—that the boy whose face is plastered across the monitor was neither a picture of himself nor of Father.

Drake took one glance at the monitor and sighed, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “Just when I thought this day was getting better.”

“What, did that café on 5th finally let customers supersize their drink?”

“God that would be the dream, wouldn’t it?” Drake sighed wistfully. “Nah, but I did get a lead on where some of that stolen Cadmus tech might’ve ended up. I was gonna spend the night following up on it, but I guess we have to deal with,” he gestured to the monitor, “whatever this is.”

Todd leaned against the edge of the computer, arms crossed over the red bat insignia on his chest. “What are we dealing with this time, brat? A clone? An alternate universe counterpart? Magic shenanigans?”

Maybe. Perhaps. All of those were perfectly valid conclusions for the enigma that was Daniel James Fenton. (Why Fenton and not al Ghul? Or even Wayne?)

Damian, too, was a genetic experiment; a ‘test tube baby’ as Drake put it at times. Damian was born for greatness, created to be perfect. The perfect soldier. The perfect assassin. The perfect heir. Was this boy—Daniel—like him as well?

A failed one, then. Perhaps the precursor to Damian’s own existence. But that would not explain why the boy was allowed to exist for so long. His grandfather demanded perfection, especially from those of his own blood. If the boy was a failure, he would have been eliminated immediately, not sent to live with some eccentric scientists in the Midwest.

Damian was not naïve enough to think that his mother and grandfather did not keep secrets from him. On the contrary, he expected it. The League of Shadows dealt in secrets as often as it did in death. Certain information was worth its weight in gold, whether it was given or buried away.

But he could not help the sharp pang in his chest. A lightning strike, quick and electrifying at the notion that they kept secrets about their family from him.

His father’s face flashed in his mind. The shock turned into a slow, dawning horror. That flicker of light, of recognition, as he scrutinized the contents of the flash drive and cross-referenced it with a public database.

And grief.

Damian recognized the grief.

Alfred, too, nearly dropped his tray of fresh-baked cookies when he stepped in front of the monitor. His usual unflappable demeanor was momentarily broken at his father’s whispered “Sixteen years. Alfred— he’s sixteen years old.”

His father knew of the boy. He was allowed to know of Daniel when he was not allowed to know about Damian.

------

Grayson returned to the cave with a distinct lack of energy in his step. His mask dangled off the tips of his fingers, chin angled downwards and covered largely by his hand. For a split second, their eyes met. Grayson shifted his gaze away, scratching the back of his neck. Father told him, then. Damian wondered how much Father revealed to his favorite son.

Damian clucked his tongue and buried himself deeper into the chair, arms crossed and pointedly looking away. If it was not for his accursed ankle, he’d have headed out to the training ring to take his frustrations out on the dummies.

“Oh, thank god you’re here, Dickface. Damian’s completely out of it.”

Damian shot him a look. “Shut up, Todd.”

“Leave him alone, Jay. Is Tim back yet?”

Drake emerged from the changing room in a dark green shirt, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. He took one long sip before exhaling. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“O-kay…” He pressed his hands together, mouth thinned into a grim line. “Uh, hey Tim, glad to see you back safe. Bruce is coming down soon to explain some things.” He let out a deep sigh, carding a hand through his hair. “This kind of thing would probably be better with the girls around, but I—god, I don’t know.”

Todd raised an eyebrow. “Don’t know whether to call Steph and Cass in Hong Kong, or don’t know what’s going on?”

“Yes.”

------

When Father arrived, Pennyworth following dutifully behind him, it was with an aching slowness in his gait. His steps measured and precise, preternaturally quiet as he made his way to stand by Damian’s chair. Damian sat up straighter, shoulders squared and back an inch away from the backrest. The rest, even Todd, stood at attention; an ingrained habit among Robins and an amusing instinct even among the senior heroes of the Justice League when it came to facing the Batman.

His father kept a steady hand on Damian’s shoulder, and Damian, shamefully, leaned into the touch; his head inclined towards his father’s hand so much so that he could feel the ends of his hair being pushed up slightly as he brushed against his father’s forearm.

He spoke with his usual monotone, as if he was heading a Justice League meeting as opposed to unveiling the secrets surrounding that boy. He brought forward the few photos they obtained from the flash drive. “A few weeks ago, we were alerted of suspicious movement from the League of Shadows in Amity Park, Illinois. Their objectives are, as of now, unclear, though it appears to be tied to the death of Amity Park resident, Daniel Fenton.”

One photo was a standard ID picture people get for their driver’s license, the lighting deliberately horrible so that any attempt to look decent would always end in failure. Another photo was a little better; a candid scene of him chatting with two others his age, a Caucasian girl in gothic-style clothes and an African-American holding a sleek, but still very outdated PDA. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners, hand reaching up to his face to stifle a laugh. There were other photos like this, some candid, others posed. At the forefront of each, a boy that looked too much like his father, too much like Damian.

His father glanced at the photos. He shut his eyes and when he opened them again, he fixed them on some distant stalactite in the Cave. “Around six months ago, Daniel was pronounced dead in a vehicular accident. A body was present, but according to police reports, he was identified via his driver’s license as opposed to any kind of DNA profiling.” He leaned over Damian’s chair to pull up a profile of Masters. “Our source—Vladimir Masters, mayor of Amity and a friend of the Fenton family—indicated his belief that Daniel is actually alive. I am inclined to agree.”

“He’s your son, isn’t he,” Drake said, more of a statement than a question.

Father gave a curt nod. “I cannot say for certain until I can perform a DNA test, but I highly suspect that to be the case.”

“First the demon spawn, now this. Great.” Todd made a hand motion towards the screen. “You know, Bruce, not knowing you have a kid once might be a coincidence, but twice? How do you do that?”

“As of three hours ago, I was still under the impression that my son never made it to term.”

“What?”

“Over sixteen years ago I was involved in a mission that put Ra’s and I on the same side. During that time, Talia and I entered a relationship that resulted in a pregnancy. Though initially ecstatic, she eventually led me to believe she miscarried the child and pushed me away. For what ends, I do not know, but trust me Jason, if I knew—” He paused, the hand that was not on Damian’s shoulder curled into a tight fist.

Father pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why she hid it from me then doesn’t matter. Why Talia wants him back now is important. Judging from Daniel’s records, he was adopted into the Fenton family as an infant and has since lived a seemingly normal life as a civilian. His adoptive parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton, are brilliant scientists and engineers focused on the field of paranormal studies. Eccentricities aside, they have zero connections to the League of Assassins or any other concerning parties.”

“So why now?” Dick asked, shifting his concerned gaze from Bruce to the static picture of Danny’s tired smile. “Why, after all this time, decide that now would be the best time to recover him?”

------

Danny’s experienced plenty of rude awakenings before, but waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to avoid his kidnapper-slash-assassin-slash-biological-mom launching a surprise attack takes the fucking cake. He can’t believe he’s saying this, but thank god for all those late night ghost attacks that conditioned him to be a light sleeper. And, of course, the League’s insistence that everyone be in optimal condition regardless of how little sleep you actually got.

Danny kicked Talia off of him, ripping his blanket away before scrambling to his feet. Seriously, if the universe decided to spontaneously give him powers again, he’d really like an upgrade to his ghost senses, please and thank you. Something that works on humans and not just ghosts. Like spidey-senses. He’d really, really like some spidey-senses.

“Your reaction times have improved considerably,” Talia said.

He eyed the katana sheathed beside his bedroll. “Thanks. Who could have guessed that constantly challenging someone to a spar in the unholy hours of morning would make them paranoid to sleep too much? Really, how am I supposed to grow taller at this rate? ” If he could just get it--

She smiled, taking a step forward. “Prepare yourself.”

“Heh.” Danny stepped further away from Talia, keeping his back to the mouth of the cave. One hand stretched in front of him and the other, coated in a green light, was kept hidden behind his back. “Am I actually gonna get some answers today?”

“Let us make it interesting. Last 10 minutes against me and I shall tell you more about your brother.” Talia twirled her blade. “If you happen to draw blood, you may ask any one thing of me.”

“Anything?”

“Within reason.”

His face caught between a grimace and a smile. He’d rather be sleeping right now, but if he had to be awake, then he’d better make the most of it. “Deal.”

Talia’s smile dropped. She veered her body to the right, barely dodging the streak of bright green that whizzed from behind her. The ectoplasmic energy that surrounded the katana bled away as the handle connected with Danny’s outstretched hand.

She quickly glanced back at Danny’s bedding. Beside it lay an empty sheath. “You have telekinesis?”

He shrugged. “It comes and goes.” Yeah, no way was Danny gonna admit that seven-out-of-ten-times he forgot that he had telekinesis. Besides, that shit was hard to do when he wasn’t Phantom.

“A surprise attack from behind is a sound strategy, Daniel. Though it’ll take a lot more than that to harm me.”

Danny pointed to the side of his cheek. “Are you sure about that?”

Talia frowned. She reached up to her face. Her fingers brushed against her cheek and came away with a thin streak of blood.

Danny grinned, pointing his blade at his opponent. “First blood goes to me.”

------

Fact: most fights don’t last long. An average street fight could last anywhere between 25 to 40 seconds, and sword fights rarely last over a minute. Like Talia said, the goal of a fight was to end it with as few injuries to oneself as possible. Humans, even the most skilled ones, can rarely last long in a fight. Prolonged combat is suicide; it makes you tired, makes your muscles heavy. It’s nothing like what Hollywood would have you believe.

Even with Danny’s own enhanced stamina and Talia holding back, he couldn’t last a full ten-minute spar. If Talia didn’t finish him within twenty-five seconds, then he’d fall by his own human limitations.

But the goal wasn’t to spar continuously for ten minutes.

He only had to last that long.

Danny sprinted out of the cave. The sun barely peeked out of the horizon, a thin line of deep orange breaking apart the wide expanse of blue-black sky above. He couldn’t see shit; great news since that meant there’s a good chance Talia couldn’t either, but that doesn’t fix the fact that he can’t see.

Nearly stumbling on the ice, Danny veered to the left. The edges of the lake stopped at towering rocks twice Danny’s height, leaving little room for cover. Though if he remembered correctly, there should be a few crevices here and there to hide in.

“You’ll have to be faster than that, Daniel.”

Shit—

Danny stopped. He brought his sword up to parry Talia’s strike and twisted away, putting distance between them.

Well, so much for just avoiding her for 10 minutes.

He adjusted his grip, keeping his sword steady and eyes trained on Talia as they circled each other. Danny lunged with an overhead strike. Talia used one hand to block the downswing by gripping his wrists. She thrust her sword forward, the tip harshly poking Danny’s abdomen.

“Less than three minutes.” Talia let his wrist go, Danny’s arms slumping to his sides.

He sighed as he sheathed his sword. “Damn, I thought I’d last longer than that.”

“You made a good effort,” Talia assured him. “Putting as much distance between us at the beginning was a good strategy. You recognized the win conditions immediately and attempted a battle of attrition.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I am very proud of you habibi, especially as you managed to draw first blood.”

A warmth grew in Danny’s stomach at the words, heating his cheeks. Sheepishly, he scratched the back of his head. “I wasn’t entirely sure that would work, honestly.”

“It was clever; half a second later and you might have even killed me. You are an al Ghul through and through” She brushed his hair out of his face. “What would you like as your prize, then?”

Danny’s heart clenched. He frowned, dropping his arm to his side. If I was such an al Ghul, then why didn’t you keep me? The question lodged itself in his throat, stifling his thoughts. It was something he’d been wondering for a while, actually, in the moments of solitude he had at the compound. Talia, during their training, would always remark at his potential. How talented he was, how adaptable he was, how much greater he would have been if he had been trained at a younger age.

Well then, why wasn’t he? Why did she give him up?

But each time he tried to ask, his tongue would turn to lead and the moment would pass, the question still left unsaid and simmering at the back of his mind. A Pandora’s Box that held none of the world’s evil but all of Danny’s possible shortcomings.

He could ask the question now.

He could.

He didn’t.

“Why did you take me?”

Talia tilted her head. “It is because you’re my son.”

“No. Not that. It has to be something more than that. You had sixteen years to come back for me—or, hell, you could have just never left me.” His breath hitched, fingers mussing his hair and hiding his eyes. “Why else did you take me?”

“It is true that there was more than one reason why we decided to retrieve you from Amity Park. One of which is because you are my son and an heir of the Demon’s Head.” Talia stilled. The dark skies of dawn made it impossible for him to read her. “The second reason was to protect you.”

“You kidnapped me…to protect me?”

“Knowledge of the ghosts of Amity have spread through the more insidious parts of the world. There are many out there who would pay exorbitant fees to study one of you or to use you.”

Use him? What did she mean by—

Oh.

Ghosts—Amity Park’s brand of ghosts—were a new element that the world had to contend with. Amity Park might have a crime rate of zero but that wasn’t the case everywhere else. Theft, assault, murder; the world was rampant with crimes and criminals clawing their way to the very top. Having ghosts, even ones with the most basic powerset, would be a huge advantage.

“There’s no way that would work,” Danny insisted. “Most ghosts just want to be left alone, and the ones that want to wreak havoc would never work with humans. The only reason they even work with halfas like me at times is because they still consider us as ghosts.”

“If my sources are to be believed, ghosts might not even get a choice.”

Danny’s blood curdled in his veins.

No.

Someone’s found a way to control ghosts.

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #dp fic #phantom children.txt

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luciinthesky-w-diamonds · 2 years

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i wrote the wedding 💕

Linus thought today was maybe the happiest he’d ever been. He, the paunchy, awkward, Linus Baker, was being married to the charming Arthur Parnassus. And to think he would be sharing a last name with him. It was the only thing on his mind for the past week, smiling uncontrollably at the thought. Arthur and Linus didn’t talk to each other much the day before the wedding. Not because they were avoiding each other, more because they couldn’t make out a full sentence while looking at one and another without either laughing or smiling, as if there was an ongoing secret between the two.

And with Helen also being the mayor, she could also apparently officiate weddings. She pulled up in her truck in a black vest blazer and a white long-sleeved shirt with puffy-ish sleeves. Linus associated her with some sort of modernized pirate, for some reason. She’d also curled her blonde hair, and Linus snorted when he saw Zoe staring at her, blinking owlishly.

Zoe herself was outfitted in a white lace dress, the backside of it trailing on the ground. The light purple flowers in her puffy hair complimented her dark skin wonderfully. She looked ethereal just with the outfit itself, and then her wings seemed to tie it all together.

The soon-to-be husbands only saw each other briefly on the day of the wedding. Only when they were both awoken by a roar that echoed throughout the house, them that it was their wedding day, and that it was time to get up. Linus recognized that it was Phee’s voice almost immediately, and then heard the quiet snickering behind the door and the shushing of one and another. Arthur had dropped a kiss on the tip of Linus’s nose while he was still half asleep, and then heard Arthur telling the children that it wasn’t fun to be woken in such a manor. The admonishment didn’t really sync in with all the excitement in the air, Linus had thought.

They only have seen each other at breakfast, sitting at opposite ends of the table. Arthur hadn’t even tried to direct the children in topics about lessons and what they were learning. He just let the rowdy laughter go on.

The children had been dismissed from their afternoon lessons with everything going on. Everyone had to get ready for the big day. Zoe had taken Phee and Talia to help them get dressed, and Arthur had taken Lucy and Chauncey, leaving Sal and Theodore to Linus. Sal wore a black tuxedo, Theodore with a tiny bow tie that Zoe couldn’t resist not buying.

The ceremony itself went smoothly for the most part, and when Linus saw Arthur for the first time in that white suit, Linus couldn’t stop himself from mouthing “Woah.” The vows were read with minimal stuttering despite Linus’s joy, and he thanked Theodore quietly when the wyvern flew over to them with a small pillow in his mouth, making sure not to drop the rings. Once Arthur put on Linus’s ring for him, and Linus did the same, the two intertwined hands as Helen cleared her throat.

“Linus,” she started.

Linus wasn’t thinking correctly moment, smiling so wide he thought he’d burst. “Yes,” he blurted, then shook his head when he heard laughter rise among the children, Zoe, Helen, and Arthur. Linus noticed how Arthur’s cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. “Wait, continue, redo that part,” Linus told her through laughter.

Helen nodded with a smile as silence filled the warm air again. “Linus. Do you take Arthur to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Linus felt his eyes going wet. “I do.”

“Arthur. Do you take Linus to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Linus thought he saw a flicker of fire in Arthur’s eyes. “I do.”

“I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may—“ Helen was interrupted when Arthur released his hands from Linus, putting them on Linus’s cheeks and drew him in for a kiss.

Linus should’ve been prepared for the very loud cheering (and that one gagging noise coming from Lucy,) but it startled him anyways. This kiss felt like the first kiss Linus and Arthur shared, oh so long ago. A warm and tender press on the lips, followed by kisses on Linus’s cheeks and nose.

Linus thought there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

#linus baker #arthur parnassus #fanfic #currently crying #the house in the cerulean sea #arthur and linus please adopt me #marsyas island fam

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elareine · 4 years

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the song better place by rachel platten and jay/dick or maybe just some jay-centric bat fam. hope this prompt works for you. love your fics <3

Thank you <3 That’s a very JayDick song, but I love writing batfam, too, so... have both.

Steph took one look at Jason’s old-new room and pronounced: “You need to redecorate.”

“No shit.”

“Let’s go.”

Which was how Jason found himself in Ikea of all places. She even dragged a flustered-looking Tim with her, who proved to be supremely unhelpful when it came to curtain color (“I don’t think either red or purple will look good with those walls,” bullshit) but very willing to hand over his credit card. It was… fun. The room felt less like a tomb when Steph was done with it, which was great.

He told her that.

“Well, duh.” She grinned. “No one in this house knows how to decorate for shit. You should see what Tim did with his bedroom…”

Jason spent a minute considering his options. “Anime girls?”

“Nope.”

“Superman posters.”

“Nope, but I like the way you’re thinking.”

“Bad Picasso replicas.”

“Nooo,”

“I give up.”

“He did…” Steph paused dramatically. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. It still looks like it did in the eighties.”

Jason laughed, and she looked gratified. “Sounds terrible.”

They kept working on the bookshelf. Ikea was great for those; that’s why they went there in the first place. Well, that and the look on Bruce’s face when he saw the boxes.

After a minute, Jason asked: “So… are you seeing a lot of Tim’s bedroom, then?”

“Yeah. So what?” She glared at him, which he was starting to realize was a sure sign that she was embarrassed.

“So nothing. Didn’t know that was happening again, that’s all.”

It took her a minute, but she softened. “Yeah. I… guess we’re giving it a second chance.”

“That’s cool,” he told her sincerely. “I mean, you could clearly do better, but he damn well knows what he’s got now.”

“Hmm.” Steph was hiding behind the shelf she was holding up, but he could still tell she was pleased. “So how about your own second chance, huh?”

…damn, he’d walked right into that one. “Shut up.”

—

“Home invasion in sector 6R. Three 1Cs, suspected armed. Neighbors reporting shots, five people in the house. Hood, you’re closest.”

Jason had already changed course. “I’m on it.”

He waited—this was the point where Batman would send a Robin or two after him, maybe even Nightwing or himself, “just as back-up.” There was no way they would let him operate as part of the team without close supervision for at least a year. Jason was determined to grit his teeth and bear it, even if he wasn’t sure for how long he could. He was chafing already, running like this with the others when he’d been on his own for so long.

However, Bruce only confirmed that he’d heard him, and then the line went silent.

Huh.

—

There was no better time to be awake in the manor than the early morning in Jason’s opinion. The light fell softly into the kitchen as he entered, barefoot and in his pajamas.

Alfred was there, of course. “Good morning, Jason.”

It was their private ritual; had been even before Jason had moved back into the fold. Six a.m., tea and sandwiches. The only difference was that now, Jason hadn’t vanished by the time Damian stomped into the kitchen, glowering at them for being awake and having the audacity to send him to school.

It was kinda adorable, not that Jason would ever tell him that. Instead, he watched Damian make his way through his own breakfast and nodded toward the packed lunch waiting for him. “I see you’re not taking advantage of the school cafeteria, then?”

“Them?” The amount of scorn Damian managed to pack into a single word would have weighed down a ship or two. “They would not know good food if it chased after them with a sword.”

“Let me guess—still only three spices, and these are salt, pepper, and ketchup?” Jason asked.

“I believe there is a fourth one now—they have a particularly intolerable mixture that they like to label ‘Chinese.’” Damian’s whole face scrunched up with distaste. “It tastes nothing like what Mother used to cook.”

“While I am sorry to hear that,” Alfred inserted, “we will be late if we don’t leave soon.”

Damian grumbled but hopped off his chair. Jason glanced at the clock — seven a.m. Dick would get up soon. Might as well make him a sandwich, too.

He pulled the ingredients closer, already compiling a list of recipes in his head. Talia had shown him how to make most of Damian’s favorites. He could teach those to Alfred, no problem.

—

“Hood. Stop it right now.” Dick looked at him with big eyes, or so Jason assumed, considering they were both wearing their masks.

“No, continue.” Barbara sounded choked, audibly forcing down laugher.

And, hey. Love was one thing, but Jason knew who gave him the best intel night after night. “So big bird and B decide that they have to infiltrate this organization, right? Only… they’re all swingers…”

Her laughter was brighter than the streetlights.

—

Jason stepped into the corridor and silently closed the door behind him.

God, but it had taken a long time to get Dick tired and ready to sleep. Jason himself was still feeling too wired to pass out, but then he wasn’t operating on a 40-hour sleep deficit, so it was totally not the same thing.

He decided to wander down to the cave. Bruce was still up, of course, acknowledging Jason’s presence with a grunt. The only other person present was Tim, who was bent over some files.

…like, really bent over them. One could almost think…yup, he’d fallen asleep at the table.

Jason gently poked him. Then he harshly poked him. When nothing happened, he sighed and moved one arm under Tim’s legs, the other gripping his shoulders. The kid would fuck up his back if he stayed like that. It took a bit of effort, but they were soon making their way up the stairs, Tim cradled securely in Jason’s arms.

They’d almost made it upstairs when Tim stirred, blue eyes opening halfway and looking at him.

Heart in his throat, Jason waited. This family had a bad habit of coming awake swinging, and with Jason hovering over them… well, it wouldn’t be entirely unjustified, wouldn’t it? Especially in Tim’s case.

Tim grumbled and went right back to sleep.

—

Jason pinched his nose. Or tried to, but he was wearing his helmet, so he basically poked himself in the face. Judging from Duke’s expression, that wasn’t helping his point.

“So you decided to buy us time by…”

“Ninja traps,” Cassie finished for him. Looking as if that made total sense.

“Ninja traps.”

“Well, it was more of an obstacle course, really,” Duke added helpfully.

“Okay, that’s a weird-ass move, but I can respect that. Then why did that warehouse explode?”

“Fire.” Cassie’s expression gave nothing away.

Jason looked to Duke. “What she said.”

“And the fire was there because…?”

“Fire is an obstacle.”

Jason groaned. “I cannot believe I’m the responsible person here,” he lamented. “Is this how you feel most of the time, D?”

There was laughter over the com. “Oh, Nightwing has finally acquired a co-parent,” Steph commented, followed by Tim’s: “About time.”

(Everyone ignored Bruce’s “Hey!”.)

—

“Jason.”

Bruce was hovering. He probably didn’t intend to it; it just came naturally. Jason still felt that nervous lurch in his stomach whenever Bruce did that, but he was trying to get over it, so he just asked: “Yeah?”

“Let me show you something.”

They went into one of the rooms behind Bruce’s office that Jason had always assumed held nothing but files. He was very wrong.

“After you… left, I found myself reading books and thinking—he would’ve loved that.”

The walls were lined with bookcases. There were special editions of Jane Austen reprints, thick sci-fi novels, and nineteenth-century murder mysteries. It was eclectic and weird and precisely what Jason liked. What they both liked.

“I kept collecting them,” Bruce told him, voice too even. “Just… in case, I suppose.”

Jason stared at the shelves and shelves full of books, all read exactly once. His eyes were stinging because the glass display downstairs—that was bullshit. That uniform was about and for Bruce, and the new Robins, not Jason.

But this?

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Bruce almost-smiled, relief written across his face. “You’re welcome. Uh. I’ll leave you to it.”

Jason let him take two steps, then he said: “Bruce. If there was ever a time for a hug, this is it.”

“Oh. Right.”

Jason let Bruce pull him into an embrace—hugged back just as fiercely and told him: “It’s okay. You can stop grieving now. I’m here.”

If Bruce’s shoulders were shaking, neither of them mentioned it.

—

It was a total accident. Jason had felt like holding Dick’s hand, so he did. It was only when he looked up and caught Tim’s eye that he remembered—right. They were surrounded by Dick’s family. Their family.

Tim winked. The conversation didn’t stop. No one else commented or even gave them a second glance.

Something in Jason exhaled.

Dick squeezed his hand, smiling at something Damian was saying, and ugh, sometimes Jason was so full of feelings, he didn’t know what to do with it. Dick was just so—so—

Yeah. Jason was so fucking gone for him. All he could think about was how it would feel if there was a ring, there, pressing against his own.

He leaned back, adding a sarcastic comment or two to the conversation just to bask in the sunshine of Dick’s laughter. That thought warranted some serious consideration, not to mention talking to Dick, but—just the idea that he could have that? That he trusted himself, and Dick, and their family, enough to have that?

It was more than enough.

—

(Three days before Jason moved into the manor, Dick called a family gathering.

“Why is Jason not here, then?” Tim asked, frowning. “If it’s a family matter, it concerns him, too.”

Dick could kiss him for that. Instead he said: “Because it’s about him. I’m gonna lay down some ground rules, okay?”

Jason letting Dick convince him to move back in with them… that was huge. And dangerous. Dick had figured out long ago that Jay and Bruce had no idea how to handle each other anymore. Neither did the rest. That didn’t mean they didn’t want to. Dick was hopeful.

It was just… Jay was the best thing in Dick’s world; his support, his light, his conscience. He just made everything better. And Dick had no intentions of letting their family or anyone else fuck that up.)

(I’m taking prompts.)

#elareine writes #batfamily #jaydick #jason todd #this was meant to be shorter and is totally unedited because it's 1am and i wanna bedone with it #sorry

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batarella · 4 years

Text

I Don’t Hate You - Part 17 (Jason Todd x Reader)

JAY IS BACK MOTHERFUCKERS

WORDS: 6706 WARNINGS: A BIT OF VIOLENCE. JASON BEING AN ASSHOLE.

Masterlist

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

-----

“Just coffee. For two.”

The waitress nodded. “Anything else?”

“No.”

She left. Five minutes later she brought in two mugs and poured in your drinks.

You warmed your chilled palms onto the ceramic. You somehow felt cold. Even when it was ninety degrees out. Especially your hands. You blew into your mug and took a sip. Just to warm up the itch in your throat.

Three weeks ago, Dick gave you that first call. You asked what it was about. He said he needed to talk to you in person. When he showed up to your house, he had a sling in his arm from a gunshot wound.

You thought he didn’t need to explain where he got it from. You knew who he was, as well as Bruce. But then he told you that it wasn’t from Penguin or Riddler or even a common thug. That it came from a new enemy going after Batman.

Still a bit confused why he came all the way to your place just to tell you that, he started bringing in a few documents.

First, he showed you pictures of Jason’s grave with a massive hole where his body was supposed to be. You remembered sweating your hair out at the horrible sight, the chills that ran down your back. It wasn’t from grave diggers. No. It was from someone climbing out from 6 feet under the soil.

Then, he showed you DNA test results.

Jason’s DNA, taken from when he was still alive, and a DNA sample from the Red Hood’s blood they had taken from one of their encounters. It was a match.

You demanded to know what was going on. Because whatever Dick was trying to tell you, none of it made even the slightest bit of sense. Dick wished he could explain more, but even he didn’t know the full story.

You couldn’t sleep that night, and barely the next night.

But then the week after that, Bruce invited you over to the mansion to talk. Dick picked you up, and at the dinner table, you, including Alfred, had a long, difficult talk about how he’d confirmed that Jason Todd, officially pronounced dead three years ago April 27, had been brought back to life by some unknown force, took the mantle of the Red Hood.

With you in the brink of tears, Bruce told you they were still trying trace where he came from, studied his techniques that Bruce was sure Jason didn’t know until now. So far, they found out that the Red Hood had been going around the state before he came to Gotham, formed his own crime ring and has taken over the empires of almost ten different drug lords. He was wanted in over six sectors, has left bodies left and right.

And now, he’s challenging Batman with his new style of vigilantism, which included cold-blooded murder. Every time Bruce, Dick, and the new Robin, Tim Drake, come across the Red Hood, they barely come out of it alive. He really wanted them dead.

And he was good at his job, as well. He’s done more good for the people than anything else. But he was also taking the lives of so many, Bruce wanted to put a stop to it.

You asked to be left alone for a while. For days, you didn’t talk to anyone. You stared at the rooftops. You looked at Jason’s old photos, compared them with the Red Hood’s new photos. You tried with everything you could to understand that the man you still loved even after three years of his death was now back, alive, risen from the dead as if that wasn’t actually insane. You mourned for him for so long. You still did. And what was that going to amount to now? You knew he was involved so many things you never could understand. But this? This defiance of the laws of nature?

You barely slept a wink.

Two days ago, Dick told you they needed your help.

You didn’t want to be involved, and you told him that. You weren’t even sure you wanted to see him like this. If this was even the same Jason before his death.

Dick told you that somehow, you could be of help. You could talk to him. Level him back down and give him the peace he needed to stop all the killings. You weren’t sure if that would work, and if anything, it was risking your life. You had no idea what Jason was capable of now. He could kill you. He could be heartless like that. And he was, from the way he was acting now. It wouldn’t be of any surprise.

But Dick and Bruce, they were running out of options. And even without Bruce outrightly admitting it, they wanted Jason back in the family. They missed him, too. It wasn’t just you.

As if the three years of grief weren’t enough. If any part of him was the same Jason you fell in love with, and still love now, this was the thing of your most impossible dreams, that your dead boyfriend had miraculously come back. It was insane. But you knew, with all your heart, you desperately wanted him back.

But you needed the help. Bruce offered to pay for therapy if that was what you needed, to get your head straight, figure things out before you ultimately decide what to do. Eventually, you agreed.

And now, here you were.

You took another sip from your cup, then Dick came up from behind you.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” You stood up to give him a little hug. His hand patting your back, he sat across from you.

“For you.”

“Thank you.” He took the coffee mug. “You’re looking a lot better.”

You held your drink with both hands. “Thanks.”

“If you’re not comfortable in any way, I completely understand.”

You tried to hold back your shaking arms. You didn’t want him to see just how much this all scared you.

“What brought him back?”

“Ra’s al Ghul. The Lazarus pit. At least, that was after he was already resurrected. The pit just fixed his body and made him stronger.”

“Lazarus pit?”

“It’s uh,” he stuttered. “Ra’s has this League of Assassins with his daughter, Talia. And they own all these Lazarus Pits. It’s a sort of a Fountain of Youth. He bathes in it, and it makes him live for six hundred years. It also heals your body from just about any injury.

“They must have found Jason, bathed him in the pit, then nursed him back to health in an attempt to create this someone to go against Bruce.”

This was far, far beyond what you could have possibly imagined. Some sort of the supernatural had always been real. Magic. Aliens. The Justice League. But now that you were involved? This was too much.

But with Jason… your sweet, loving Jason… You’ll do anything.

“You think he’s heartless enough to try to kill me?” you asked.

Dick drank from his coffee mug, set it down, then swallowed.

“I never got to tell you, didn’t I?”

“What?”

Dick bit his lips. “Jason’s not gonna hurt you. I’m sure of it. I wouldn’t have called if it had put you in any kind of danger at all.”

“How are you so sure?”

He looked out the window, at a rooftop from an apartment building nearby. You breathed into your mug.

“About a week ago, I put a tracker on him without him knowing. Then one day I followed him, just to see what he was up to…”

He held his cup.

“He was waiting for you outside your university. And when you got out, he followed you all the way to your house. He’s been at it almost every single day.”

You caught your breath in your throat and watched Dick with your lips starting to shake.

“And it isn’t just that. He does everything to make sure you don’t get hurt. When you go out at night, he’s still watching you. As the Red Hood. One time before you were about to cross an alleyway where thugs were waiting to rob you, he beat the living shit out of them before you even noticed.”

You gulped down, then you drank even more of your coffee just to ease your nerves. You shifted in your seat, then cleared your scratchy throat.

“How long has he been at this?”

“I’m guessing since he first came to Gotham. A month ago.”

The coffee suddenly didn’t taste so calming anymore. “God… I… This is still so much to process…”

“I know.”

“He isn’t going to show himself to me willingly, is he?”

“I don’t think he will. He makes sure you never see him.”

You closed your eyes.

“That’s why I called you. If you got to talk to him, maybe you can get him to listen.”

He loves you. He still does. And he was a broken soul, protecting you when no one was there to protect him. He needed you.

It was that one, single push you needed.

“I want to do it.”

Dick held your wrist and squeezed it tightly. “Don’t worry. If anything goes wrong, Bruce, Tim, and I will be there.”

“It’s not that I’m afraid of,” you said. “I don’t know what’s going to happen after this.”

Not a clue. Not a single premonition.

“Honestly, me neither.” He finished his coffee. “But it’s worth a try.”

-----

One. Two. Three.

Those fools had it coming.

Barely a word out of his mouth gushing with blood. The Red Hood held his neck, stuck him up against the truck’s container, then pushed his revolver right under his chin.

“When’s Black Mask’s next shipment?!”

“I don’t fucking know!”

He clicked his gun. “I think you do.”

His filtered voice made everything a lot worse. The driver of a weapons cache truck he caught was trembling off his ass. His two other co-workers were lying dead on the ground. And when Red Hood squeezed his neck further, he gasped for air.

“Tomorrow! At the docks!”

He slammed the butt of his gun right to his face. He fell to the ground, unconscious. And just because he had one bullet left to waste, the Red Hood shot his shoulder.

He jumped out the vehicle and stretched out his neck, closing the truck door while the driver continued to scream in pain. The police should be here soon. He’ll have to get out of there.

“Hey there, bud.”

“Fucking shit-“

The Red Hood, in just one swift move, reloaded his gun and aimed right at the top of the truck, at the black and blue figure crouched over staring at him.

“Get out of here.”

“I just want to talk, Jay.”

He wanted to shoot Nightwing’s smug little smirk right off his face. “I mean it.”

“I won't-“

Red Hood fired at the truck’s metal just an inch away from Nightwing’s leg.

“I won't miss next time.”

“Just listen to me-“

“Fine. You wanna play that game, Grayson?”

He took his other gun strapped from his hip. Nightwing jumped off the truck before he started firing at his face.

Dodging the bullets, he started leaping circles around him, getting closer to where he was standing. Red Hood stopped firing, threw his guns to the ground, then charged for Nightwing’s leg just as he got close enough.

His larger figure stopped himself from tumbling to the ground when Nightwing landed a kick to his helmet. He growled, waited for him to pounce again, then Red Hood ducked under his leg, shot up quickly enough to land his powerful fist right against his chest.

Nightwing was down. He rolled to the floor, but resisted pulling out his escrima sticks. He wasn’t here to beat him down. But obviously, Red Hood wasn’t here to talk, either.

He ducked and blocked Red Hood’s succeeding hits, almost rolling around the empty road. He kicked him in the stomach, then Red Hood headbutted him with his much stronger helmet.

“Jason!” Nightwing blocked him with his arm. “This is about Y/N!”

He stopped.

Then his helmet was about to melt at the immense heat his head was boiling to. “WHAT DID YOU SAY!?”

Nightwing leapt up to a pole. Red Hood grabbed his guns, reloaded them, then started firing.

“Stop it!”

“Fuck you!”

He kept firing at Nightwing’s body, backing off when he got too close. He was going to kill him. He wasn’t getting out of this alive. Not tonight. Mentioning your name like that, it’s going to cost him his life.

“She knows! About you!”

“You fucking ASSHOLE.”

More. More bullets. Nightwing went into one of the alleys and jumped up the fire exits. Red Hood kept firing, the bullets bouncing through the walls. He climbed up the escape and chased after him.

“HOW THE FUCK DID SHE KNOW?”

“I told her!”

“oh, you’re dead, Grayson.”

They reached the rooftop, and Nightwing ran all the way to the other side of the ledge. Red Hood sprinted after him, opening fire. He didn’t care where they landed. He wanted his body to put into the shock in the middle of jumping to another rooftop and fall to his death.

“She wants to talk to you!”

“NOT A FUCKING CHANCE.”

“Don’t you think she deserves to know what happened-“

“LEAVE HER OUT OF THIS, DICK.”

He made sure you never saw him alive. You thought he was dead. He was going to keep it that way.

Then he ran out of bullets, cursing beneath his breath, Red Hood threw his guns to the floor and chased him down.

When he caught him, he pinned him to the ground, grabbing him by his neck. “Jay-“

“I’m going to kill you. Right now. You think I’ll hesitate?”

“Do you really want to break her heart again, asshole?”

“You fucking-“ Red Hood punched him in the face. Then Nightwing folded his legs up, pushed him with the heels of his feet, landing him on the ground. He placed his arm right against his neck.

“You of all people can't lecture me on breaking hearts, you jackass.”

Red Hood punched him again, then got off the floor. Nightwing finally pulled out his escrima sticks, and Jason pulled out the last of his guns from his holsters and aimed it at Nightwing’s head.

They paused, stared each other down with their weapons in hand a yard’s distance away.

“Just… talk to her.”

“I can't believe you pulled her into this-“

“This isn’t about our little game. This is about you, Jay. And you need our help-“

He laughed. “Since when did I ask for your fucking help?”

“Since you killed almost a hundred people in Gotham in the last month-“

“Those aren’t just people, you idiot. They’re Joker’s men. Penguin’s. Two Face’s. They all deserve to die.”

Nightwing tightened his grip on his sticks. “Then just talk to her. She deserves that. You of all people should know just how hurt she is.”

He clicked his gun. “Mention her again, and I’ll blow your brains out.”

“She’s waiting for you at the plaza. Behind the cathedral. It’ll just be you and her. Just let her talk to you-“

Just one pull of a trigger. And this son of a bitch dies for ever even speaking to you. He’ll fucking keep his word.

“You think I don’t know this is a trap? What, you, Bruce, and that fucking replacement will be waiting to ambush me in the dark?”

“Not this time. You have to believe me.”

He scoffed. “What are you trying to do? Change all this?”

“Trust me, I get it. You have no intention in mending anything with Bruce. But if you don’t show up, it’ll devastate her.”

“She’ll be fine. Trust me. She dealt with worse.”

“And you really want to subject her into that again?”

Deep, slow breaths. He lightly pulled the trigger, but Nightwing just skidded to the side and dodged him.

They heard something. Coming from below. Police sirens cleaning up the weapons truck.

Staring each other down, Nightwing and Red Hood slowly backed off. He hated him. All of them. His fucking family that never once cared for his ass, or felt any type of remorse for not being able to save him. The family that never thought to avenge him, set their morals aside to do what’s actually right. They look down on what he does, and yet, he’s done more to control Gotham’s crime than Bruce ever had in his lifetime.

Red Hood set his gun down, then they both sprinted to opposite ends of the rooftops.

He was going to clean up their mess. Again.

-----

It ends tonight.

Everything. Your story. Your mourning. Your commitment to your dead, beloved high school boyfriend. Your unhealthy attachment to what could have been. Your reluctance to move on.

You realized, it all ends tonight.

No matter what happens, no matter how this all ends, everything was going to change.

If he doesn’t show up, it’ll pave the way for you to move forward, knowing that Jason, given the chance that seemed entirely impossible just a few weeks ago, had no intention of even speaking to you, let alone change for his own betterment. It should tell you to let him go, despite you not wanting to. It’ll tear your heart into shreds, more than it already was, but if he was alive, and he still wanted nothing to do with you…

You just hoped that won't be the case. You still loved him. Endlessly.

And if he does show up, it could only end as well as you being able to convince him to stop with the killings, be his better self, be the Jason you knew he still was, and it’ll go on from there. The miraculous dream you never thought to be true. Your loyalty to him, rewarded. And no longer will this life go on as if you were merely running in a slow, painful treadmill with no actual direction, other than to keep the promises Jason asked of you. You’ll have him back. As crazy as it still is, you’ll actually have him back.

But that was the most wishful thinking you could do. It’ll almost never end that way.

But, no matter the outcome, if he changes or not, you’ll finally come to the end of you dreaming about the past. You’ll know he was here. Alive.

That alone fixed some parts of your broken self.

So you got out of your car, walked out into the plaza where you told Dick you’ll be waiting. Behind the Cathedral. Where there was no one around but trees and bushes. The next walkway was yards away, and there were almost no lampposts nearby. If what Dick said was true, and Jason would never try to hurt you, you’ll still be safe.

You leaned against the wall, looked around at the vines eating up an old, wooden bench.

And you breathed. Long deep breaths.

You were going to see him. Finally.

Maybe your attachment to him was made for this. Because somehow, deep within you, you knew it wasn’t over. You knew he wasn’t completely gone. As hopeful as it was, it somehow came true.

Deep. Slow. Breaths.

An hour. Maybe an hour and a half. You waited.

You were going to have to be as patient as you could be.

What were you gonna say to him?

A lot of things. Punch him in the face. Scream at him for ever leaving you like that. Yell at him for idiotically going after the Joker by himself. Hug him. Kiss him.

Your mind was boggling. This was never what you signed up for.

But it was everything you could have hoped for.

You’re seeing him again. Jason. Your love. Your first, and still love. Oh, how your heart warmed. You wanted his arms back. You wanted his lips back. You wanted-

Thud.

A noise.

Coming from the roof.

You stepped out from leaning against the wall. Nothing. Nothing above you.

Another thud. On the grass.

You looked around.

Your heart was thrashing hysterically in your ribcage.

“Jason?”

You walked to the other side of the cathedral’s backside. But there wasn’t so much as a squirrel around you.

Then.

You turned around.

There was a figure.

A large, dark figure, hiding in the shadows. By the trees. A few yards away from the building.

You narrowed your eyes, squinted to get a better look.

It was getting closer.

You wanted to back away, but you didn’t. You were too frozen too move.

When it passed by a single ray of light from a faraway post, you saw it was a man in a dark, hooded jacket. With what looked like armor on his chest.

He got closer. Closer. Close enough for you to see the red bat symbol on his chest.

You took a step back.

He was huge. So fucking huge. This couldn’t be him. Not by a mile.

You took another step back.

And when he got close enough so you could see the red helmet where his head was supposed to be, with white, glaring eyes looking back at you menacingly, you fumbled backing away until you ultimately hit the wall.

The Red Hood.

He walked to you until he was standing so close to your shivering body. You pressed yourself against the wall as much as you could. Your whole body thudding, your head swarming in panic. Your stomach was churching, much like it did when you were terrified beyond belief. You wanted to run away, but his helmet, his chilling red helmet, it stared you down so you couldn’t even move. An inch away from your body, the Red Hood growled.

“Stay… Away…”

You swallowed.

“Jason?”

“Don’t… Don’t even try.”

“You're…” you breathed out, your chest heaving. “You’re really alive…”

He just stared at you, not giving you any chance to move. You were stuck, pressed against the wall, as you stared at him in disbelief.

“How much do you know?”

You were stuttering. Your shaking mouth forced you to. You’ve never been so scared in your life. “A lot…”

The Red Hood slightly turned his head to the side.

You wanted to see him. Really see him. His face… without thinking, you reached up to his helmet.

He pushed your hands away, and you gulped, backing off.

“Whatever it is you're trying to do, stop it. It’s not going to work.”

“I just want to talk-“

“About what? What are you possibly hoping for?”

“Why didn’t you come to me?” you whispered. “Why didn’t you see me first? You have no idea-“

“You think you want to see this?”

He pointed at his chest. “This isn’t what you think it is. I’m not who you fucking think I am.”

Of course he isn’t. You didn’t expect him to.

“You have no idea how much I wanted this…”

“This isn’t what you want. Trust me. Far from it.”

Eyes stuck to his helmet, where his own eyes were supposed to be, you didn’t know what you wanted to say.

“I want to talk to you. I know about what you do… and I still do-“

“Forget about all this okay? As far as you know, I’m still dead.”

This time, as scared as you were, you wanted to punch him.

“Do- do you have any idea how much you hurt me?”

He didn’t answer.

“You fucking don’t.”

“I wouldn’t talk that way to someone with three guns on him.”

“Go ahead. Shoot me. Kill me. If you insist that’s what you are.”

You saw his shoulders rise, his breath deepened. You bit your lips, and you stepped closer to him. You craned your head up his much taller figure.

“What do you expect out of this?”

“I just want to talk…”

“About what?”

His filtered voice. There was barely anything of the Jason you knew. You couldn’t see his face. His whole body grew more than four sizes larger. You couldn’t hear his voice. It was so hard trying to be gentle to someone who just looked terrifying to look at.

“Stay away from me.”

“No,” you said. “Take that mask off and look at me.”

“Listen,” he walked towards you and pushed you against the wall. “I don’t know what you want. You want us to talk? And what do you want out of that? Something more?” he scoffed.

Your mouth turned dry. You wanted to kick him in the groin until he’ll barely be able to walk.

“You left me,” you whispered. “When you said you never would.”

“We broke up-“

“You. Left me.” you hissed. “You have no idea…”

He stopped, looking to the side at the wall behind you.

“You should’ve moved on-“

“Fuck you.”

Tears. Angry tears. They wanted to seep out. He stepped back. “If you know what’s good for you, forget about all this-“

“I can't believe this is how you are after you fucking died and left me to grieve you for three years-“

“Deal with it. I’m not who you fucking think I am.”

And, as it seems, you started to believe him.

This was a cold, heartless villain. The Red Hood. His helmet, his voice, his body. None of it was Jason anymore.

“I just want to talk… Please…”

He shook his head, not even giving you another glance. The Red Hood turned away from you and walked out into the trees until you couldn’t see him anymore.

You cried too much for him. Far too much.

So you didn’t this time. You let yourself slowly realize this was how things ended.

Your phone rang.

“Y/N?”

You breathed. “He won't talk to me…”

“It’s alright. We did what we could. I can come up there and-”

“Can I be alone? Please? I’m going home.”

“Of course. I’m really sorry…”

You hang up.

----

It felt like it was about to rain, even when there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

You went up to your bed, folded your knees up your chest and stared blankly at the cold, empty floor. It was back. All over again. The same loss when they told you he died. That wasn’t Jason you talked to. Far from it.

There was no trace of his sweet, comforting voice, of his handsome face that lit up any room he was in. His arms, now twice as large as they used to be, they didn’t give off that soothing rush that calmed down all your nerves when he’d pull you into his chest. His voice, it was far from some fucking robotic filter that hurt your ears. You hated every part of it. You hated that helmet. You hated what he became.

Jason was still dead. He wasn’t coming back.

You hoped far too much of what was impossible to ask for. Because whatever that was, the Red Hood… You didn’t know what you were even expecting. That wasn’t your boyfriend. He couldn’t be.

You wanted to see the Jason who smiled bashfully when he saw you walk down the steps of your apartment, the one who stuffed his hands in his pockets, eyes glistening as he stared lovingly at you. You wanted the guy who wanted to see you every day of the week, miss you on the days when he wasn’t and push everything to the side just to spend every minute he had with you. The one so obsessed with you that he couldn’t possibly ask you to stay away, or ever make you feel like he didn’t want to see you at all. You didn’t like feeling so unwanted.

You hoped, with that tiny part of you that still had it, that he would have met you, looking exactly the same way he did before he died, and pull you into his arms. The dramatic part of you wanted to run to him, and he’d run to you, and you’d crash into an embrace for hours and hours until he’ll ultimately pull away to kiss you.

And instead, you got a red helmeted asshole who told you to stay the fuck away from him.

You clenched your fists, shutting your eyes.

That part of him should still be alive. A part of him should still be loving you as you knew he did. He followed you around, didn’t he? He protected you.

How could he… after all you went through just to hold on to him… this is how he treats you…

Thud.

You reached for your scissors you had stashed beside your bed. There was someone in your fire escape, standing like a brick wall.

A tall man, face hidden by the shadows of his red hoodie. He stared at you, but he wasn’t moving.

Your hands left your scissors.

You knew exactly who it was. You stepped off the bed.

Your heart was pounding so hard within your chest, you thought of running out of your room. But he didn’t look like how he did a while ago. His head was down, almost like he was looking at the ground.

You walked to your window and slid the glass open.

You still couldn’t see his face. The shadows were too dark.

All the emptiness, the darkness, all that consumed you, it was all finally starting to fade out. When you saw how he didn’t have any weapons on him, no armor, no helmet, this was what you thought to see.

You let out a broken, trembling breath as you climbed out into the fire escape, facing the man closer and closer. He slightly backed away, but his back hit the railing. You stood in front of him, frightened, but not enough to run away.

He flinched when he started for his hoodie, but you didn’t back off. Your nerves were on fire but you wanted to rid the shadows, finally see him as you never thought you ever could again after all those years.

Gulping, he leaned in.

You took off the hoodie.

The same black hair that fell down to his forehead, slight curls that tickled his skin. His jaw, angular and strong. His lips, chapped and scarred. His eyes, that deep, bright blue so beautiful that it tore through you and looked right into your soul. They looked through you so woefully, hurt, broken.

And scars. One that tore through his eyebrow, one on the corner of his lip, and one on his cheek.

You breathed, and a single tear fell down your face.

It was him.

Undeniably.

It was him.

It was Jason.

He’s here.

You clutched to his neck, both your arms pulling him so tightly to you that you swore you’ll never let go again. Oh, his warmth. His body. He was here. He was actually here. You stuck your face into his shoulder, holding onto him so hard that you’ll kill him if he even tried to move away.

Jason.

“Oh god…” you cried. “It’s you…”

And you could feel just how much he wanted to pull away. He was meaning to. But fuck him. You weren’t about to. His muscles tensed. His breath hitched. You could feel his chest stiffen-

Then,

You felt his incredibly strong arms around you.

And you sobbed. Silently. Not so much with tears but with your broken breaths, your shaking arms. He stuck his face into your hair and breathed in. Yes. This was Jason. This was definitely him.

You could hardly believe anyone could be risen from the dead. You saw him in his coffin. His lifeless body, white and cold. And he was here, back with the same exact warmth and life. He looked different, there was no denying that.

But the moment you looked into his eyes, you knew it was him.

“Jay…”

He tightened his hold on you.

“Y/N…”

And you cried even more. That voice. The same that said your name in the most beautiful way he possibly could in that voice message you listened to over and over again. He’s here. He’s really here.

Your hands on his face, you pulled away so you could look at him more.

And he looked like he was about to cry as well. The light from your room, it shone perfectly on his face. Every detail, you could revel in. His hands squeezed your shoulders and you pressed your forehead tightly against his.

You wanted to kiss him so badly…

He closed his eyes, but you didn’t. You kept looking at him, watching how his face moved.

Jason took your hands, gripped them tightly by the wrist,

Then pulled you away.

“Uhm,” he cleared his throat, taking his hands off from you and stuffing them back to his pockets. “I came to talk. Like you wanted…”

He looked to the ground. And reluctantly, you backed away.

You leaned against the railing beside him and crossed your arms.

“I don’t know where to start…”

Jason turned to you. “How are you?”

You had so many things to say. You could blurt out all your thoughts and you wouldn’t be able to stop. But you settled yourself, calmed your mind.

“I’m not so sure myself.”

“School?”

“Ending my third year. I went to arts college…”

“Yeah… I know. You like it?”

You nodded. “I do…”

You desperately wanted to hold him again, but you just kept to your shoulders lightly brushing.

“How ‘bout you?”

“Horrible. Thanks for asking.”

You shook your head. You wanted to chuckle, but you weren’t sure that’d be the best thing to do.

“Jay, what happened-“

“You really don’t want to know…”

“I deserve to know, don’t you think?”

Jason turned around, placed his hands on the railing and looked down onto the alley. You did the same, but your eyes were locked on him.

“Something happened. Some reality altering shindig in the cosmos. Ripples, as you might say. I’m not so sure myself. It caused a lot of weird shit to happen. Including me. I woke up in that coffin and climbed my way out.”

You swallowed.

“Somehow, the al Ghul’s found me and nursed me back to health. They put me in the Lazarus pit-you know what that is, don’t you?”

“I have an idea.”

“Anyway,” he continued. “They let me spend time in the League. Some sort of brainwash, but I got over it after a while. I went around different cities in Jersey, then I got to Gotham. You know the rest.”

You looked down at the empty alleyway with him. And you didn’t have much to say. You could tell he didn’t want to be consoled.

“Well, you certainly changed.”

He looked out into the rooftops. There wasn’t any wind, so nothing was blowing into his hair. You watched his face so raw, a matured version of what he once was. But it was still him.

“Aren’t you gonna ask what happened to me?”

His lips went through his teeth, gritting as his muscles tensed.

“I listen to your message. All the time.”

You didn’t think he’d be so shocked, but he was.

“It sent?”

“What do you think?”

Jason pursed his lips, shutting his eyes so he couldn’t look at you.

“I kept your promises…”

You held your hands together, and you stared at them. “I went to college for you. I changed. A lot. I’ve been singing for events around the city a lot.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I watched you a few times.”

You breathed out. Slowly.

“Not all of them, though.”

Jason looked at you, and you looked back at him.

“I couldn’t move on…”

“Fuck…” he cursed. “Y/N-“

“I can't.”

“It’s been three fucking years…”

Your heart just shattered at the way he as looking at you now.

“I haven’t even talked to another guy. Not one date. I wouldn’t let them. I told them…” You shouldn’t tell him, but you really wanted to. “I told them I was still with you-“

“Fucking hell.” He stuffed his face into his hands. “I can't believe you…”

You choked. “I lost you!”

“You should have let me go…”

“I can't!”

You held his shoulder, but he flinched away.

“Why…” you cried. “Why this? I’ve done nothing but mourn for you-“

“I wanted you to live your fucking life!”

You turned away, and Jason looked at the streets by the building, at the empty cars and leaves stuck on the road.

“I wanted you to move on…”

You never once thought you’d have this conversation. Not in your life. “I couldn’t think of it.”

Jason closed his eyes, and you hugged yourself despite the heat. Your throat wanted to climb out of your neck. And your uneasy breaths, it choked you.

Jason let out a strong breath and looked at you.

“You know what I didn’t tell you in that message?”

“No…”

He leaned over the railings, elbows on the metal. He closed his eyes.

“I wanted to tell you that if I ever got out of that place alive, I’ll do everything-everything-I possibly could to get you back…”

You looked up at the sky. Something stung in your heart.

“But I didn’t. I didn’t want to put you in a terrible place. Whether I got out of it or I didn’t, I just wanted you to find what you were really looking for…”

“I want you...“

“Y/N…”

“I still do…”

“You don’t,” he choked. “We were kids-“

“Fuck you, is that what you really think?”

He breathed through his mouth, looking at almost everything around but you.

“This was a bad idea…”

He started for the stairs. And you watched him, feeling him tear your heart out all over again. Just like the first time.

“Jay… Please…”

Just as he took the first step, he stopped when you held his face.

He didn’t pull away. In fact, he leaned into them.

“Don’t leave me again…”

“Y/N,” he bit his lip, leaning closer to you but not close enough to kiss you. “You don’t want this…”

“I do…”

“No-“

“Why not?”

“I’m not bringing you into this. You don’t know who I am anymore.”

“You're worth it…”

“Y/N…”

You brushed his cheek with your thumb. He was about to cry, and you, with your tears already falling, you whispered.

“You are the love of my life…”

He closed his eyes, let you hold his face a bit tighter.

“Do you really want me to forget about you?”

Your breath shaking, it hurt like the world stepped on you when he slowly nodded. “I can't let you hold on to me any longer…”

Everything. It hurt ten times more than you ever thought it could. You never could have thought this would happen.

“Just give me a few days with you… Please…”

“Y/N, no-“

“Please,” you gulped. “I’ve been wanting To just...hold you... for so long. I never thought I’d get to anymore. And now, you're actually here. The cosmos. Whatever brought you back, they sent you here. and if you really… If I can't spend the rest of my life with you anymore, just give me a few days… Please just give me that…”

Jason finally looked up at your eyes, shaking. His eyebrows were up to his forehead, and he looked so terribly beautiful.

“Please… and I swear, I’ll forget about us. I’ll finally move on. You never have to see me again…”

Jason… Your beautiful, perfect Jason…

He took your hands off of his face.

And you turned around before you hurt yourself even more watching him leave you for the second time.

You faced out the building, at the empty sky, then you shut your eyes close before it sank in that this was the reality you had to face. Another nightmare. Just when you thought you could handle it.

You heard Jason’s voice, light and subtle.

“Three days…”

You turned around.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He almost jumped down the fire exit, disappearing before he could possibly change his mind.

-----

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

-----

everyartistwas-firstanamateur @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki@everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc @multifandoms916 @icequeen208@offendedfishnoises @egdolan @xemiefx @arkhamtoddler @elsenthal@mythicbitchx @supremehaunter @ burning-alive @lucy-roo roseangel013bf @ loxbbg reclusive-chicken-nuggethttp-cherries shadowsndaisiesriver9noble zphilophobiazannoylinglyaries @knightfall05x @l-horizon11

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood x reader #jason todd angst #red hood angst #batarella #batarella fluff #batarella angst #i don't hate you series #i don't hate you #jason todd x reader series #jason todd reader insert #batarella series

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spine-buster · 4 years

Note

About Tehilah, is that legally her name or is it like Talia, that’s the closest English name I can think of, but she goes by Tehilah? My aunt did that with her older two kids, her oldest is legally Aaron Michael but we all called him Aaron Moshe growing up. He just goes by Aaron now, but that’s another story. Her middle child is legally Rachel but we call her Rochel (ruh-chul, the ch pronounced like l’chaim) as that’s the Yiddish pronunciation.

Her legal name is Tehilah Yael Cohen and she goes by Tehilah -- there was no...”whitewashing” (if that’s the correct term?) of her name. No shortening it either. Fully Tehilah. Like Aleida and Aberdeen. “It’s Tehilah. Tehilah.” My research told me Tehilah is Hebrew and not necessarily Yiddish (I know there’s a distinction/difference).

#answered #good things come... series #tyler and tehilah canon

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brucewayneargento-moved · 3 years

Text

Lucky I’m In Love With My Best Friend

Fic also avalible on Ao3

Summary: Lace (Wallace West II) gets tired of his wedding with Damian always getting interrupted by some apocalyptic crisis so he just asks him to marry him casually after a mission.

He looked around the rubble, trying to make sense of all the people who were there. Rose, Tanya and Avery were making sure everyone was okay while William and Jackson were using their powers to take out the rubble; He turned his head the other way and saw Wally talking to the batfamily, specifically to Dick and meanwhile his fiancé was regrouping the Titans.

He focused his gaze upon his Damian, his Redbird suit covered in dirt and blood, he probably was going to pretend he was fine for a few hours before he collapsed on bed and slept for at least two days.

That’s when it struck him.

“Let’s get married,” Lace said suddenly. But he blinked upon realizing that he said in a really quiet voice and nobody could hear him.

He ran towards his fiancé, transforming into a gray and red blur, he appeared next to Damian making him jump a little, he turned around.

“Let’s get married ” Lace repeated, this time to him “Right now”

Damian’s eyes widened, Nobody, who was next to him, took out her helmet and stared at him with her mouth slightly open.

“Did a parademon hit your head?” Redbird asked.

Wallace frowned: “I’m being serious, let’s get married now.”

“Why?”

“We’re surrounded by our friends and family, the world literally almost ended and because I’m sure we will never have this opportunity again.

Damian opened his mouth to respond, but truth to be told he wasn’t sure what to say, it seemed like his wedding was always interrupted by some sort of apocalypse level threat, so it made sense that his husband-to-be seems to just want to get over it.

“C’mon,” Wallace pleaded with him. “Let’s get married and then I can run us both to Byalia and we’ll be there for a month.”

Damian smiled shyly, Oh what the hell.

“Alright,” The man agreed. “But as long as you propose to me again.” as soon as he pronounced those words his ring was gone and his fiancé was on one knee.

“Damian Ibn Thomas Wayne Al Ghul will you marry me?” he said with stars in his eyes.

“Dude if you don’t do it, I will” Maya said

“mmm,” Damian pretended to think it over for a minute and then grinned. “Alright I will marry you, Wallace Daniel West II.”

They both laughed and embraced each other, then proceeded to kiss, as they pulled away they realized all of the people surrounding them were applauding and cheering.

“We need a priest,” Damian suddenly said. as if he was just realizing how much work came into planning a wedding.

“I can marry you,” everyone turned around and saw Djinn raising her hand. “I have the power to.”

“We also need a band, “ Wallace remembered.

“I can help with that, me and Dinah can be prepared in no time.” Emiko said.

“I can make an aisle out of will.“ Tai smiled.

“Are you getting married in your superhero costumes?” Maya asked.

“I’ve already called Talia,” Bruce said. “She will bring Damian’s sherwani.”

“I can speed to the dry clean.” Wally said winking at Lace.

Soon enough everyone had a task to do, from cleaning up the area to just simply providing moral support to the grooms. It took them practically all day but the couple couldn’t be more glad for a sunset wedding.

Damian changed quickly into a telephone booth, advised by Jon and went outside wearing a lime green sherwani. Colin, Jon, Maya and Maps were about to comment until Talia came out of nowhere and started to pass a roll brush on his son.

“No son of mine will look dirty at his own wedding.” She proclaimed.

“This is giving me League flashbacks, but the good ones.” Athanasia said, making everyone jump a little, as no one had seen her sneak in either.

Meanwhile Wally had given Lace the suit, a red one with yellow flower details, and Tanya had given him a scrunchy to tie his hair on a manbun.

“Do we have to stay in our uniforms?” Jackson asked. “Can’t we at least change?”

“We can’t look better than the grooms.” William said.

It was seven PM where the ceremony finally started. As he had promised, Tai had made an entire wedding aisle out of will. With flowers, pews and a podium included.

Djinn was in the middle of the podium with some scriptures written in arabic on the table. At the right side there was: Tanya as the maid of honour, Avery as the groomsmaid, Jackson as the Best Man and William as the groomsman. At the left side there was Jon as the Best Man, Maya as the maid of honour, Maps as the groomsmaid and Colin as the groomsman.

Bruce was attending the news and the reporters saying that he was sponsoring his son’s wedding since he was supposed to get married in secret today but it had been canceled due to the aforementioned doomsday of earlier that day. After he finished his speech he went to the first row and sat next in between Talia and Harvey. It is unknown if he survived that.

On the other side there was Iris crying with joy while holding out the video camera as Barry had his arms crossed with a sad expression on his face. Probably meditating on how harsh he had been to Damian where he first met him.’

Soon enough Emiko started to play the wedding march on her violin, followed by Dinah doing acapella, giving the whole place an angelic atmosphere.

Everyone turned around to see Damian walking down the green carpet in the middle of the aisle. He pretended as if he wasn’t wrecking with nerves and tried his best to block down his pores in order to not ruin his one million dollar sherwani. He repeated his vows in his head, praying to the New Gods he wouldn’t mix them up.

Damian arrived at the aisle and smiled at his friends on the left side, and nodded as Roundhouse made hand motions to communicate what would happen to him if he dared to hurt Lace.

The wedding song started again and the public and the people on the end of the aisle all turned around again to look at Lace.

The speedster’s mind was running at a million miles per hour as he walked probably the slowest he had walked in his life.

He finally made it to the end of the aisle.

“Join hands please,” Djinn said. the men did as they were told while grinning at each other. Even after all these years they got giddy at this motion.

Djinn made a purple circle with magic around their hands, both men felt a sorts of electric current running through their veins.

“I will be casting an eternal bond, a sign to the New Gods that you will be declaring each other soulmates,” she explained. “You shall now pronounce your vows.”

Damian went first:

“Wallace -Lace- I can’t even begin to describe how much you mean to me, ” he said, pressing his fingers against the other man. “I have made many oaths in my life but I’m not lying when I say this is the most important-

“I vow to protect you and care for you, I promise to dedicate the rest of my days devoted to you and to your needs, to love you as hard as I can.”

Wallace had tears in his eyes. He swallowed a little saliva to wet his mouth, trying to ease his nerves.

“Damian,” he pronounced every syllable as something sacred. “I don’t know if I can ever say to you how much you mean to me, but I know that I can try to show you, by small and big gestures because you deserve them, you are worthy of all the love in the world.”

Damian looked down, blushing.

Djinn spoke: “Do you both swear by the New Gods that you’ll stay together for the rest of your life? Bonding your souls to each other for the rest of eternity?”

“We do.” they both said at the same time.

“You may complete the ritual by kissing.” She said.

Wallace speeded two inches in front of Damian and kissed him, and spun him to the side to hold him. The crowd exploded in thunderous applause. Purple butterflies surrounded them both, they pulled away and looked at each other with misty eyes.

#the flash #batman #dc comics #robin #kid flash #wallace west ii #damian wayne #teen titans #my post

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rocket-roach · 5 years

Note

Batman calming traumatized children. Can be with his kids or other kids, just soft Bruce being a force children trust. Bonus points for a 5+1, with the plus being the night Jim Gordon and Alfred comforted child Bruce. Ya know the one. XD

5+1 with bruce comforting children and Jim Gordon comforting 8 year old bruce? you got it pal

word count: 1157

The thing he noticed as he held thecrying, shaking boy in his arms underneath the big top, was just how small hewas. He tried rubbing his back in easy, slow circles, but that didn’t seem tohelp at all. He started rocking with the boy in his arms, reassuring the newlyorphaned boy that it was okay. Justicewas going to find his parents killer. He would survive this. Bruce survived theloss of his own parents.

“At wh-whatcost?” Dick hiccupped, his blue eyes bloodshot and tear filled.

“What?”

“Whatdid surviving your parents cost you?”

He doesn’tanswer his sanity, like he wanted to.

“Tryand catch me, you big boob!” The skinny punk yelled as he ran, brandishing hiscrowbar.

Hecaught him.

Batmanheld the skinny street rat up. He was trying not to shake. His jaw was juttedout, his posture tense and ready to spring. But Batman could see the fear inthis kid’s eyes. Then he saw just how damn bony the kid was. Pronounced collarbone, jaw, cheekbones, and arms that looked thinner than tissue paper.

Thiskid was starving.

“Areyou hungry?”

“Buzzoff,” the kid grumped.

“There’sa Big Belly Burger down the street. My treat.”

The kidwatched him for a moment. “Listen, I grew up in Crime Alley. I know there ain’tno such thing as free.”

“We canwalk there. If you want to go at any point, you can leave.”

“I’mJason,” the kid offers when they’re about halfway down the block. “and my dadbeats the shit out of me. I’m staying on the streets now.”

When Batmanfinally entered the Drake’s apartment, his heart broke again. Tim was kneelingin his father’s blood. The boomerang stood as offensively as the old conservativestatues in the south. The last Drake alive was crying, howling in agony as his handsreached for the boomerang. Batman lunged forward, gripping the boy in his arms.Tim’s smaller fists beat against his chest armor. Eventually, Batman managed tocatch those, too.

“Tim,”He murmured.

“He’sdead. He’s dead he’s dead he’s dead he’sdead he’s dead.”

“You’realive,” Bruce whispered as he ducked his head into Tim’s hair.

“Ohgod, Bruce, he killed my dad,” Tim sobbed, curling into him.

“We’regonna get him, Tim. But I need to get you back to base now. I need to get youto a safe place. Can you stand?”

Timuncurled himself from Bruce, standing on shaking legs. He looked up at hismentor, eyes raging with fear, determination, anger, and maybe, just a drop ofhope.

“I’m goingto make him pay,” Tim whispered.

Batman placedhis hand in between his shoulders as he guided Tim out of the crime scene. He’dcall the cops once Tim was in the car.

Then he’dhelp Tim get the son of a bitch that did this.

Thegirl was goddamn dangerous. Her moves were all lethal, her actions calculatedand decided before even Bruce could decide his best course of action.

She wasdangerous. But she was smart. She was also nonverbal and one second away from atruly debilitating panic attack.

“Cass,can you breathe with me?” He signed, standing just inside her door.

Herdark eyes flashed to his, her hair soaked with sweat.

“Cain,”she responded, her hands flying.

“He’snot here. So long as there’s breath in my body, he won’t get any where near youagain. I’m coming into your room now,okay? I’m going to sit on the bed if that’s alright.”

Shenodded. Bruce took slow, easy, steps to her bed. He sat at the foot, andoffered his hand out to her.

“I waseight the first time I had a panic attack like this,” He spoke lowly. “Scaredthe hell out of me. I had no idea what was going on, why I couldn’t breathe.But Jim Gordon told me to breathe with him. We sat there, in that alleyway, breathinguntil Al came to the scene. But the whole time, Jim just talked. Told me abouthis wife, and how he wanted to start a family with her. Then he told me storiesabout other people who had lost their worlds and healed from it. It was justrambling; the nervous rambling of a new cop in Gotham. But it helped. It didn’tdiminish my loss, it reassured me that were was still good in the world,” He watchedas she took his hand, then curled into his side. Bruce lifted his arm until hecould wrap it around her shoulders. “I thought Clark was the strongest personin the universe. Then I met you, Cassie.”

Bruce slammed Damian’s bedroom dooropen after the second scream. He was sitting stock straight, sweat drippingdown his bed. He was only twelve years old, after all, and he already sufferedthrough violent post-traumatic stress disorder.

Brucewasn’t done planning all the ways he was going to make Ra’s suffer for what hedid to his son and Talia.

Butthat wasn’t the focus now. The focus wason his fourth son, who was currently trying to grab the blade he kept stashednear his bed at all times. Bruce beat him to it, taking it out of harms way. Hetumbled onto the bed, grabbing Damian and pressing his head to his chest.

“You’rein the manor. You had a bad dream, kiddo. I’m here, Al is sleeping in hisrooms, Dick’s in Bludhaven. Listen to my heart. Can you count it for me?”

Damianshuddered, then wrapped his arms around his father in a desperate hug. Hesobbed against him, tears pouring down his face as he reminded that he was home and safe.

Brucewas eight years old and standing in his parent’s blood.

He wasscreaming.

Peoplewho lived around the alley turned the lights on in their homes, lowered theradios and televisions because that screaming sounded just too realistic. Theyopened the windows, looking down and up, asking the other rubberneckers whathappened.

But thealley had one street light, recently installed, at the midpoint of it. Thatstreet light soon provided all the answers the nosy neighbors had in the shapeof two bodies, and a broken boy. After that, the heads vanished back into theirrespective homes. The Gotham City emergency dispatchers were swamped with callsfrom one block, and fifteen minutes later, red and blue lights were flashing.Cops and detectives were swarming the scene. Cameras flashed brightly, evidencewas collected, and the sole survivor of the shooting got shuffled to the side.

JimGordon couldn’t bear it any longer.

He kneltin front of the kid. Then he noticed the shaking. His tan trench coat wasgently placed around the kid’s shoulders.

“It’sgonna be alright, son. What’s your name?”

“Bruce.Bruce Wayne.”

“Bruce,is there anybody we can call?”

#5+1 #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Cassandra Cain #Damian Wayne #Robin #Alfred Pennyworth #Jim Gordon #wow this is actually kind of angsty huh #LMAO WHOOPS #requests #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #thanks a lot mem!!!#memorydragon

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carnalsociety-rpg · 4 years

Photo

HEY UPPER EAST SIDER, WELCOME TO CARNAL SOCIETY

Cleo, you’ve been accepted as Talia Bellini-Hamill with Benedetta Porcaroli as your faceclaim. Congrats! Please read through our checklist and turn in your account within 24 hours.

THIS I KNOW, THE BEST IS YET TO COME.

WHO AM I?

OOC Information.

Name/Alias: Cleo Preferred pronouns: She/her Age: 21 Timezone: EST Triggers: N/a

THAT’S ONE SECRET I’LL NEVER TELL.

IC Information.

Name: Talia Bellini-Hamill Age: 23 Gender: Cis-Female Pronouns: She/her Sexuality: Pansexual Faceclaim: Benedetta Porcaroli Occupation: Senior at Columbia for creative writing, socialite/social media influencer Headcanons: - When reflecting on their time in Italy, Talia’s mother Angelica ‘til this day, will claim that “they lived in squalor,” and that she “did what she had to do to keep them fed.” Mamma thought that Talia didn’t remember, and Talia just let her think whatever it was that helped her sleep easier at night. Talia was born and raised in Italy, living with her mother and her aunt Valentina, until their departure for America when Talia was thirteen. Valentina was only six years older than Talia, and even as a child, it was Valentina that mostly raised and was responsible for Talia. They lived comfortably; they had food in their bellies and made ends meet every month. Her mother worked as the maître-d’ of an elegant restaurant in Parioli, one of the wealthier quarters of Rome, where she garnered plenty of attention from the men that dined there and as a result, plenty of tips. Valentina would attempt to put young Talia to bed early so as to not confuse her with the varying men that Angelica would bring home, but Talia was always a curious girl; she’d peek her head out at night to sneak a glance at the men, creep around in the morning to search the contents of their wallets (and maybe snatch a couple of euros, if her mother did take them all). - On Christmas Day 2006, Talia learned that her mother was engaged to a man she didn’t recognize; Gregory Hamill. She had never seen him in their apartment before, and neither her mother nor Valentina hadn’t mentioned anything about this strange, older man. He spoke little Italian, and often said words in English v e r y slowly with very dramatic hand gestures. Talia was always observant; she watched the way her mother’s body would stiffen in response to his affection—cold to his warm, blind love. She saw her mother’s swift hand move to her mouth, dainty fingers wiping the corners of her lips after a kiss before gleefully swiping his credit card. After watching Gregory and her mother, she quickly learned a very important lesson: love has no language barriers if enough money is involved. Shortly after the extravagant wedding, Gregory Hamill had passports made and the paperwork handled for the girls before they moved to New York. This was when she learned who Gregory Hamill was (and why her mother was so keen on marrying him): the Commissioner of Commerce in New York City. - Talia didn’t know her father, and after hearing everything her mother had told her about him, she didn’t care to. She told Talia that he packed up and left one night shortly after they had taken Valentina in, when Talia was around two years old, and left her mother to pick up after his seemingly endless gambling debts. He never called or wrote, never sent her anything for her birthdays—nothing. He wasn’t there to walk her to school in the mornings or to teach her how to ride a bike; he wasn’t there to catch her sneaking her first kiss in her living room, or to help her with her first heartbreak. He wasn’t even there for her to resent him, so when Gregory Hamill stepped up to play the ‘Papa’ role, Talia threw her unsettled anger toward Gregory. She initially refused his extravagant gifts, giving him the cold treatment whenever they spent time together, but she eventually warmed up to him upon seeing how much he loved her mother. He was nice and loyal, and he took care of her and her family—he was like all the dads in the American TV shows she watched. Talia was smart enough to know that her mom didn’t really love him, but as he grew on Talia, she loved and appreciated him enough for the both of them. - Talia knew a bit of English from watching American TV shows with Valentina back home in Italy, but overcoming strange the object-verb placement and suffixes that are spelled the same but pronounced completely differently took some time. Despite being a very promising student in Italy, she took a year off of schooling to fully learn and perfect her English with a tutor before beginning her American education Constance Billard. Even to this day, Talia speaks with a slight Italian lilt and often mixes Italian into her speech when she’s angry or nervous, or just speaking quickly. - During her time at Constance, she was a pretty decent student; maintaining a 3.8 GPA throughout her high school education—not too shabby for a girl who had just learned English a year prior. Talia thanked her time in Italy for her strong multi-tasking abilities; maintaining a solid social life amongst the elite while securing a spot on the Dean’s list at the same time was not too common in her peers. They weren’t dumb, per se… but most of these wealthy American kids simply weren’t disciplined enough to even want to care about success beyond just their ostentatious social lives. Talia knew she had a certain edge that they didn’t, and she knew they could feel it—some were intimidated by the “Italian girl’s” mysterious persona, and others were drawn to it. She didn’t say much, but she found that she didn’t always have to; it only takes a hint of her accent and some bella paroles for them to be charmed—if she cared to play the part. She loved the endless possibilities that the combination of the city and her step-father’s money gave her, and Talia is quite indulgent in her vices (she could be quite the life of the party if there’s enough tequila and weed), but la ragazza è come una farfalla, neither here nor there and yet everywhere. The whole bit grew tiring at times for Talia, often finding herself bored at the same events with the same people—she wasn’t like her mother, enchanted solely by opulence. - Call it what you want—a disconnect between a girl and her peers, daddy issues masquerading as an “inherent coquettish nature,” an overinflated sense of self that calls for the need to acquire the attention of everyone in any room she steps foot in. Talia calls it a craving for more substance, more flavor. That’s why, since she was about fifteen, she found herself feeling the most comfortable within older crowds—elite or not. She didn’t have to deal with the underage anxiety of “getting into clubs or bars” with her step-father’s name and credit in her back pocket, and her precocious European charm made up for her baby face. She was also a hit at the events her parents dragged her to; you know, the ones with the ridiculously expensive dress codes and seemingly bottomless h’or dœuvres and cocktails where the attendees try to one-up each other with their charity donations? Talia was a charming feat as per the newly-debuted Hamills; her parents paraded her around to their cohorts and colleagues, and she thrived in the attention. - Talia’s not necessarily promiscuous, but it’d be easy to assume as much if you didn’t quite understand. There’s a certain thrill in the chase, as she’s discovered in her 22 years of life. She first noticed it as a freshman at Constance Billard—she was freshly imported meat, and there was a particular power that came with baiting the sharks of St. Jude’s. Unchartered territory, unclaimed by man (or at least any man with influence in New York City)—a challenge. There were boys pretending to be suitors for a quick one-and-done, boys that were actually attempting to court her and claim her as their own, and then there were the ones with the lewd comments that thought their money and last name would ensure a warm spot in her bed. As she got older, her male peers ditched the uniforms for suits, trading their alumnus rings for family heirlooms, but their game stayed the same, and so did hers. She was a tease—especially to those that would never stand a chance, and it was all a game to her. People want what they can’t have, and the undying desire is the ultimate prize. Perhaps she learned it from her mother; she saw how quickly men tossed her to the side once they got what they wanted, and she saw just how quickly she’d seek out the next man to get what she wanted. She didn’t want to be like that—gripping all the power in her hands and then watching it slip through the cracks of her fingers to first man that uttered something remotely palatable that evening. Never forget; the power is all in the bait. - After moving to America, Valentina and Talia’s relationship only strengthened; they were the two Italian girls that were learning English and the “American way of life” (or at least, the 1% way of life). If they didn’t have anyone else, they certainly had each other’s backs and when Talia turned eighteen and began attending Columbia University, it was only right that the two move in together. In an Upper East Side apartment funded by Mr. Gregory Hamill, the pair coexist peacefully and maintain their strong sisterly bond. Though sometimes she can get annoyed by her ever-present motherly role, Valentina offers Talia the motherly advice and structure that her own mother never really enforced—like waking her up with a smack of a pillow to the face for her 8 a.m class after a weekend of hard clubbing. In return, Talia insists on bringing that gioia di vivere—having all the fun and enjoying all the beautiful things of life that they didn’t necessarily have the time or money to enjoy in Italy. - Technically Talia doesn’t have to work, nor does she have responsibilities to tend to, she still feels the need to do something more than being an insipid debutante. She doesn’t quite know where her destiny lies, but she knows she’s always had a strong passion for writing, which is why her major is Creative Writing at Columbia. It began with simple journal keeping back in Italy, and that habit followed her to America—but her writings remained in Italian. She wrote the way she spoke; sometimes wrapping her words in pretty little packages like prose, and sometimes her words were raw and stark on the white parchment paper—but every time she wrote she wrote with authentic feeling. Writing was something she never grew bored of, and she only writes when she’s truly inspired to keep it that way; her words will only be written down if they have meaning. Talia’s too harsh on herself to ever write “just to write,” and she never re-works thoughts or ideas because if it has to be re-thought, then it’s not worth the commitment to the page. She also only hand-writes—with the only exception being for classwork for pain-in-the-ass teachers that are too lazy to decipher her slanted handwriting. Keeping it in her handwriting means keeping her work hers—no one can claim it or try to tame it, just as no one can claim nor tame her.

Associations: Sultry eyes catching yours from across the crowded room, a cloud of smoke following accented words. Warm musk and sandalwood lingering on your shirt, and you digging your nose in it for reminders of the night before. The smooth flow of a fountain pen on journal pages, slanted letters curling into doodles. Following the music until it leads to a temporary paradise. Secret:

REDACTED.

Would you be willing to have your character be Gossip Girl? REDACTED. Would you be willing for your character to be the killer? REDACTED.

YOU KNOW YOU LOVE ME.

Here’s a link to the mockblog I made for Talia where you’ll find all the extra posts I’ll be linking below!

- A general aesthetic (x) - A home aesthetic (x) - A playlist (x) - More information about Talia (x)

#accepted

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gingerstorm101 · 5 years

Text

A Little Too Late Chapter 2

Summary: Years after the death of Ziva, a case comes up where Tony finds that she was keeping a secret from him.

AOL

FF.net

Chapter One

Time froze around him as his heart stops. He knew it couldn't possibly be true. It just couldn't be true.

‘I lost my sister, Tali, last year in a Hamas suicide bombing. She was 16 and the best of us.'

He swallows at the memory. Abby and McGee stare at him as if he had grown a second head in the time he has stood in this spot. "I only know one person with that name." He stutters out, his throat catching, making it hard to breathe. The two stand before him, gesturing for him to continue. Surely they have heard of the story, surely Ziva had mentioned her sister to the rest of the team. Or was he the only one to have gotten her name? To have known her history? "Ziva's little sister. But this girl is too young to be that Tali."

"Obviously." Abby comments, folding her arms.

He pulls out his phone and calls the one man who can get him the information he needs. "Natalia, get me the director. Something has come up."

***

"Orli, long time no see." Tony's comment was dry, but not unwelcoming.

"I am not surprised, Tony, after Ziva died, there was not much left to talk about after you killed Trent Kort." His heart clenches at the memory of that day. "What is there to talk about now?"

Nodding to McGee at the desk beside him, the image is brought to the screen. "Earlier today, we got a fingerprint match to 10-year-old, Talia David." He pauses, his tongue clicking the roof of his mouth. "We ask if you recognize her?"

Orli was quiet for a minute, looking over the girl in the picture. "Where did you get this match?" She asks, interested.

"From the customs at the international airport, crossing into the country. From what we found, she came from Israel a week ago."

"Yes," Her thick accent lathers the single word, Tony's temper slowly rising. "Talia is Ziva's daughter, she went missing eight years ago, presumingly kidnapped by the same people who had her murdered."

"And who exactly is the girl's father?" His fist clenched beside him, hiding them from the woman's view.

She didn't skip a beat. "You are."

He grounds out, "And you see fit to just now tell me?" Oh, he was pissed, outright pissed. "And why is this the first time I'm hearing about this, madam?" Her eyes shifted, not meeting his gaze for a moment before staring straight ahead.

"It was not my place to tell." Short and straight to the point. "But you already figured that out," She folders her hands in front of her. "Why exactly did you call?"

"Tali's," Tony's heart skips a beat. "we found a Bloody fingerprint at the crime scene this morning. We figured she somehow knew the Sergeant, but now knowing this new information, I suspect otherwise-"

"-She could be the murderer?"

"I would say her captors." He smirks, crossing his arms over his chest. "But if you think a 10-year-old could take down a full grown, fully trained Marine, without a struggle, then I'm impressed."

"Don't underestimate a David, Anthony DiNozzo."

***

He steps out of MTAC, throwing his head he lets out a deep sigh. Having a daughter was not something he was expecting to hear today. Or ever. He had requested the INP from Orli, the Israeli equivalent of AFIS, he wants to make sure that this was the same girl that went missing from her burned down farmhouse eight years ago. Abby can do a blood test to confirm that this was his daughter, they had a blood sample. Just need to make sure it is hers. Raising his phone, he calls the woman and makes it happen.

He takes a moment to himself, his worries lie in the basement. He was this close to confirming he had a daughter with the woman he loves. But finding out that she had been kidnapped from her home on the same day someone killed her mother? Who would take a two-year-old? He had more questions than answers along with a murder to solve.

Inhaling, he walks to the elevator; he had something he needed to do before he found out the results.

The swoosh of the Autopsy doors welcomes him to the cool room. He spots Jimmy leaning over the victim, hands deep in his gut. "Palmer!" The medical examiner looks up at him, pulling out what looks like the man's kidney as he greets the team leader. "What d’you got for me?"

Placing the body part in the scale, Jimmy clears his throat. "There wasn't much I could get from the Sergeant, he was in peak fitness shape, so finding a lack of defensive marks on his forearms and hands is interesting." The medical examiner explains lifting the arms to Tony, showing the lack of bruising and swelling on the knuckles and forearms. "The only marks on his body was the single bullet wound to the forehead." Tony looks down at the head, oddly to use to the top of the head cut off. "I found the bullet in his brain, it had ricocheted off of the back of the skull, leaving a small dent. I took a sample of it and sent it up to Abby."

"Good, good." Tony nodded, glancing up at the man. The room was silent for a moment before he finally asked. "Did you know Ziva had a daughter?" He expecting Palmer to drop something, but the man wasn't holding anything that would bang or clang on the table or floor. "Yeah, I didn't think so."

He moves to turn away, making it to the door before the other man finally says something.

"Why wouldn't she have told you?"

Tony's heart broke again, finally hearing the words aloud. "I don't know, Jimmy." He sighs.

***

"It's a match, Tony. The fingerprint and blood we found at the crime scene belong to Talia Antonia DiNozzo."

The answer is straight to the point, and one he wasn't sure if he really wanted to hear. This little girl, who was kidnapped on Israeli soil, was here in the United States. But why? He has so many more questions that need to be answered. And the only person who could give him almost all of them was dead.

McGee steps up beside him, staring at the picture of the two-year-old from the missing case report. Even at such a young age, he can see Ziva in her. In her cheeks. Her hair. But her eyes? It's like looking in a mirror.

"Why change her name to David? Wouldn't it arouse suspicion?" He asks.

"Deputy Director David? Couldn't be Daddy, now could it?"

"David is a common name in Israel."

"From what I've been told, it's a popular name. She would have slipped under the radar." McGee didn't question him on where he had learned it, taking his word. "Abby, call me when you find out more information on what little evidence we have. McGee, get the team to continue to search for leads. I want every and any asshole who could have a grudge on Sergeant Morgan. Narrow it down even further to who could have known Tali." He says facing the man meeting his eye. McGee nods, quickly looking over to Abby before staring back into his boss' eyes. "I want you to look up anything you got on the case file from when Ziva died," He felt his heart tighten at the word. "Get Gabby to translate it if you must. Orli should have sent it over not too long ago. I want my best man to find out who kidnapped my daughter. Even if I'm 8 years too late."

And with that, Tony walks out of the door and into the elevator. He had some place to be.

***

The drive to the house took him less time than he had expected even though the time had never changed. But his thoughts aren't organized, nor was he ready for this conversation. Sitting in the driveway, he works on gathering his thoughts, he can't seem to find the right words though.

A knock on his passenger window startles him, he glances up to find his old boss standing on the other side of his door. Exhaling, he opens the door and slips out, then crossing his arms atop the car roof, not saying a word.

"Can I help you with something, DiNozzo?"

Stepping back, he closes the car door and makes his way to the front door of the house. "This isn't a conversation for all ears, Boss." Taking the hint, the old man follows him into the house.

Once inside, the two sit down on the couch, Tony not looking at his former boss, just staring into the fireplace.

"I don't have all day, Tony, spit it out." Gibbs sighs, Tony smirks.

"You're retired, Boss, you do have all day." It still shocks him when he receives the head slap even though he should have seen it coming. "Ziva…" He hears the intake of breath at his partner's name. "She had a daughter."

"Tony." He hears the warning in the man's voice, but he pushes on anyway.

"My daughter, Gibbs." His head shoots up at the man, finding his old boss staring at him, utterly shocked. "And she never told me."

After years of pent of emotion and frustration, tears finally spill from his eyes. Tears that should have fallen when he said his goodbye to her. To the moment the farmhouse blew up. To when she was pronounced dead by Orli. To the yearly anniversary, he endures on his own, of not being there to protect his ninja. But now, now is when they fall, when he's talking to his old boss, who was next in line closest to Ziva, knew half of her secrets. The man who would have walked the woman down the aisle.

Now he cries.

He feels the clap of Gibbs' hand clamping onto his shoulder, and he cries harder. "Why wouldn't she tell me? What was she afraid of?" The older man says nothing, instead putting his words into his hands as he squeezes Tony's shoulder. "I wanted her to come home, every single day, I just wanted to hold her again."

"I know."

"But…" He pauses, sniffling, rotating his head on his shoulders. "But I just wish she had told me. I would have been there in a heartbeat. ‘Count to a million', I said. And I'd do it again, cross the planet for her. She was… no, she is my everything. And now, Tali. She's all I have left of her, but here's the kicker. Someone kidnapped her the day Ziva died before the firefighters could have arrived."

Around him, Gibbs moves about the house, the next thing he knows, the man is holding a bottle of beer before him. "You might need this." With a short thanks, Tony cracks open the beer and taking a couple of gulps. "You know that you are all my children, don't you?"

Tony nods, taking another swig of the beer.

"With Ziver," the man pauses. "It felt like I had Kelly back, it was like raising my little girl again." Tony was awestruck by his boss' words. He knew Ziva was like a daughter to the man, but he never knew he felt like this. "Did you know Ziva was only a couple years older than Kelly?"

No, he never really thought about it. Like he never thought about the age difference between him and his partner, but it makes sense. His Ziva was born in ‘82 while Kelly was born in ‘84, if they grew up as neighbors, they could have been friends. Best of friends.

"I took her in, pulled her under my wing. Like with Abby, I would do anything for her. But she was the baby of my family. She'd ask for anything, I'd drop everything and do it. When she called me, telling me that she wasn't coming home, that I wasn't picking both of you up from the airport, I drank myself to sleep that night." The man paused in his quiet monologue. "I had lost my baby girl again."

The room went quiet for a long time. Too long it felt. But in peace they drink, they drink to the memory of the woman they both love. They didn't stay a word until they hit the bottom of the bottle, mutually agreeing on another drink. With the pop of the bottle cap coming loose, Tony speaks up. "I have McGee getting Intel on Tali's kidnappers, getting help from Mossad where he can. Johnson and O'Riley are tracking down leads for suspects."

Gibbs doesn't respond, instead, he gets up off the couch. "Want a steak, DiNozzo?"

His eyes following his former boss to the kitchen and back out to the living room. "Yeah, sure." Tony continues to update him on the case as they eat.

***

It is closing in on midnight when Tony finally arrives home. He knows he should call his dad, let the man know that he has a granddaughter out there, somewhere in this city. Breaking the news to Gibbs was hard enough but to Senior? He might need the stronger stuff for such conversion.

Pulling out his cell phone, he unlocks it and scrolls to his father's contact number. Tapping it, he brings the phone to his ear as he unlocks his apartment door. The same apartment he's had since… since forever, really. Since he and Wendy broke up. There was only one change in the apartment in the time he has lived there.

Opening the door, the sound of something scraping against the hardwood flooring behind the door alerts him. Looking behind the door, he noticed something as he hears a faint ‘Hello? Junior?' coming from his phone.

Down behind his front door was a large envelope with ‘Anthony DiNozzo' written on it in childlike penmanship.

#that show i shall not name #tiva fanfiction #tiva #ish #fanfic #tony dinozzo #tali dinozzo #tim mcgee #original characters #leroy jethro gibbs #anthony dinozzo senior #my writing #i still don't know how to tag these things

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stereksecretsanta · 5 years

Text

Merry Christmas, @Novkat21!

Summary: Caused by the fire that took almost all of his family Derek becomes feral at age 16, though he never thought that it would help him find his one true mate.

*****

Baby come back!

A wolf...black as night, eyes as feral as the blue sea, hides in the cover of the woods, but is still sensed by a young human (age 10) with hand ran through hair, cinnamon eyes, and freckles the wolf likes to map out when he gets a good view.

Derek knows everything he could possible know about the boy who lives in the house that is in front of his makeshift den.

His mom died when he was about 8 or 9.

His dad is the sheriff now after being the deputy that tried to save his family members that were stuck in his burning house.

His best friend Scott is his step brother.

His eyes reminds Derek of christmas, of the cinnamon that his mom always put on his hot chocolate.

And lastly his name is Mieczyslaw but he goes by Stiles and he normally has blue mist or aura that goes around his body, and it intrigues Derek with every fiber of his being.

As Derek watches the boy play with Scott, Stiles stops playing. Stiles looks straight at Derek, smiling (even though that Derek blends into shadows of the woods, Stiles still knows he is there.).

“Stiles what are you looking at bro?” Scott asked coming up to him.

“Just looking at my wolf.”

“There are no wolves in california, dude.” Scott rolled his eyes at his brother’s imagination.

“You might not believe me, but I know he is there.” Stiles ran back inside, closely followed by Scott.

After they left, Laura came to where he was laying down.

“Hey Der-Bear.” She sat down next to him.

Derek let out a wolfish pur, in acknowledgement. Laura told him about her day, visiting their uncle who is in a coma, about trying to find Cora, and asking Deaton if there is a way to change him back human.

His ears perked up at that. Laura told him that he has to find his mate, and make his human and wolf parts in to one being.

It was easy for Derek to lose track of time, while being a wolf, today Laura couldn't visit because Satomi had found Cora, tired and very sad and hungry. It was Stiles who paid him a visit, a surprising but very welcomed visit.

Derek watched Stiles gage him for a second.

“Hello.” Stiles said.

The aura around him was bright blue today. Derek noticed that it changes in color depending on his feelings so Stiles must be happy.

Derek’s tail started to wag at the boy uncontrollably as he sat down beside him.

“Lydia Martin asked me to be her best friend today.” He smiled, as he put his hand in Derek’s fur. “I was surprised but I told her that Scotty was my best friend, and she said that was okay that I could have more than one best friend, like how Allison is her best friend too.”

Derek made a cuffing sound that was him laughing at the boys excitement.

“There was a fire about a month ago, Mrs. Talia’s family my papa tried to save her family, but he couldn’t.” the aura around Stiles went from bright blue to a black. “Now there is only four left of her family, her brother, Mr. Peter is in a coma, and her eldest, Ms. Laura is looking for her younger siblings, I know she found Cora, because Mama told me, but Derek is still missing. I hope he is okay.”

Derek wanted to smile at the boy for caring about him and his family, but he became sad at the mention of his family.

“I’m sorry Sour-wolf.” Stiles said hugging him. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” not knowing that he was talking to Derek Hale.

Derek was surprised by the hug.

“Mieczysław!” Stiles’ father called him from the porch. “Time for dinner!”

“Bye Sour-wolf!” He hugged Derek again. “See you tomorrow hopefully.”

~Time skip~ *Stiles is 18, Derek is 24*

It’s been 8 years, and Derek still hasn’t changed back to human. Derek was waiting for Stiles to come home, he is supposed to hang out with Scott today, so while he waited Derek took a nap.

The sound of Stiles’ jeep woke Derek from his cat...wolf nap. Derek heard Stiles put his backpack on the couch, then head to the kitchen to get a soda, before he came out the back door. His aura was a black again. He is sad. Derek whined in concern, as Stiles laid on his back, with his head on Derek’s side. Derek felt his tail put itself on Stiles’ legs kinda like a small blanket.

Stiles sighed. “Scott did it again.” Stiles opened his soda and took a sip. “He promised that we would go play video games at the arcade.” he sighed again. “But he left me to be with Allison.”

Stiles fell asleep shortly after bitching about Scott. Derek watched the woods to keep Stiles safe.

‘I am sorry that Scott left you again, Mieczysław.’ he rubbed his muzzle in Stiles’ hair, smelling the adderall and duct tape adhesive, that is Stiles’ scent.

Derek made sure to wake him up before John and Melissa came home.

“G’ night Sour-wolf.” he said getting up. “I won’t be home until eleven tomorrow, there is a dance, and Lydia is having me go with the other gay guy at my school.”

After school Stiles changed into a grey tux, and Derek thought he looked very dashing in it. Ten minutes later, Laura and Cora convinced Derek to go hunting but he still stayed where he could smell Stiles, not wanting to be away from where Stiles’ smell was the most pronounced.

Derek had just caught a rabbit, and started to lazily trot to his den, Derek had a overwhelming feeling of...something...he didn’t know what it was, but he did know that he wanted...needed to be by the house, just in case.

Maybe a hour or two later, hell it could have been longer, the sun has began to set, and Derek was almost done gnawing on his rabbit when he heard the engine of Roscoe coming down the street. When the jeep parked, he heard Stiles’ heart beating fast and in his bones he felt like something was wrong. Then when Stiles got out of the jeep that is when he smelt it, the sweet metallic scent of blood. Derek leaving his now forgotten rabbit, hightailed it to Stiles who was walking to the back yard.

When Derek saw him; he saw red mist around Stiles, he was in pain, then he felt something get glued together inside of him and he had the urge to wrap his arms around Stiles to protect him. Derek got barely a foot in front of Stiles when Stiles stopped and looked confused.

“What the…” he mumbled. “Who the hell are you?”

Derek looked down at himself, seeing that he was higher off the ground and he had pants on he legs...his human legs.

“It’s me, Der-” he was going to say his name but realized that Stiles wouldn’t know him by that. “Sour-wolf.”

Stiles looked at him cautiously, obviously not believing him. “Prove it.” he said, glaring at Derek.

“When you were 10 you sat by me for the first time and told me that Lydia asked you to be her best friend, you were surprised but she told you that you can have multiple best friends.” Derek smiled at the memory. “Then you became sad when you mentioned Mrs. Talia...her family….then you hoped that I was okay.”

Stiles looked down, as black mist intertwined in to the red. “No one knew about that but my Sourwolf.” he looked back at Derek. “I can’t calling you Sourwolf anymore huh?” he rubbed the back of his neck, as he blushed.

Derek laughed. “You can but when it is just the two of us, other then that you can me Derek.” Derek stepped forward toward him. “Can I please take care of you so you don’t lose anymore blood?”

Stiles looked at him, eyes shining. “Yeah, lets go to my room, I have first aid in there.”

They walked in to the house, Derek knew that Melissa and John were at work, and he had a feeling that Scott isn’t showing up anytime soon. He followed the 18 year old up the stairs and to his room.

“Sit down on the bed.” Derek ordered him gently.

Stiles did what he was told. “First aid is in the bathroom on the sink.”

Derek went to get the item and went back to Stiles as quickly as he could. Derek knelt in front of Stiles and started to patch him up.

“What happened?” Derek whispered.

“Sc-” Stiles cleared his throat as his voice started to tremble. “Scott.”

“Why?” Derek’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Because I am gay.” Stiles shrugged as Derek finished and sat next to him.

“That is no excuse….” he took Stiles’ hand in his own. “What he did is wrong.”

“He did it because he is ashamed or scared to have a gay brother…” he let a stay tear fall. “Maybe because he is afraid that people will start to notice him looking at Isaac and realize that he has feelings for him. Especially with him and Allison being on and off again.”

“Are you ashamed of being gay?”

“No it’s just that mom and dad, and Lydia...and you were the only ones who knew so when I went with Danny to the dance, I came out to the whole school.”

“Mieczysław…” Derek started but he didn’t know what to say that would make him feel better.

Stiles smiled as Derek said his name correctly. “You said it right.” he stated changing the subject.

“Well I have had about 8 years of practicing it, well in my head at least.” Derek blushed.

“Can I ask you four questions?” Stiles asked looking at Derek’s hand and playing with his fingers.

“Sure anything.” Derek said using his free hand to bring Stiles’ head up to meet his eyes.

“Why is there a purple mist around you, why were you a wolf, what are you and would you like to go….to..uh...dinner...with me?” he said one after the other.

Derek laughed. “When a person sees mist around another, they are soulmates, and the purple means that I am worried about you.” he took a deep breath in for the next two question. “I am a werewolf, and my most of my family was/is, and when the others died in the fire, I shifted and got stuck in my wolf form, until I found my anchor, and turned back.”

“I am your anchor?” Stiles’s eyes widened in shock and awe.

“Yes and I would love to go to dinner with you if you don’t find it weird that for 8 years, I was a wolf, and ate rabbits and deer.”

Stiles laughed. “I don’t but no more eating bambi’s mom or thumper’s family.” he said so seriously that Derek had to laugh.

Derek went forward a little and his lips softly grazed Stiles’ so that he didn’t cause any more pain for his mate.

“I know this is kinda early to say but I love you Mieczysław.”

“It’s not, because I think I might love you too.”

“You think?” Derek’s eyebrows furrowed again.

“Well you were a wolf for 8 years, I know the wolf but not the handsome man in my bed.” Stiles kissed Derek’s cheek.

~time skip-

“Mieczysław?” Derek whispered, standing behind Stiles, wrapping his arms around, his husbands torso.

“Hmm?” Stiles tilted his head to look at Derek. “What is it my Sourwolf?”

Derek watched the mist go from blue to pink, Stiles is content. After Derek turned back human he made it his life’s mission to never see black or red mist around his mate.

“Thank you…” Derek kissed the back of Stiles’ head.

“For what?”

“For everything, being my mate, my anchor, helping me build my family home again, and giving me two of the most wonderful little girls in the world.”

“Well technically we have Lydia to think for the last part, if not for her carrying them for us, Talia and Claudia would have never been born.”

The two men looked at their 10 and 9 year old daughters, both were the spitting image of their fathers, though they did have a few traits of Lydia, Claudia had Lydia’s red hair, and Talia had her pale skin, Claudia has Derek’s blue-green eyes, and tan shin, Talia has Stiles brown hair and cinnamon eyes. Their personalities are a combination of both.

“But your welcome anyways, and thank you for being there for me no matter what happens, I love you Derek Hale-Stilinski.”

“I love you too, Mieczysław Hale-Stilinski.” Stiles turned around in Derek’s arms and kissed him.

“Papa, dad!” The girls yelled. “Come play with us!”

“Okay, just give us a sec.” Stiles smiled as Derek kisses his forehead. “Shall we go play our daughters, Der?” he held out his hand for Derek to take.

“We shall, Sti.” Derek took his hand.

“Not without Aunt Laura.” Derek’s sister came out of the house.

“Or me.” Lydia followed closely behind, with her and Laura’s son Luka, (named after Derek and Laura’s dad) in her arms.

Derek rolled his eyes at his sister and sister in law, watching as the mist around Stiles turned green for overjoyed.

Deep down, Derek was happy that he got stuck in wolf form for 8 years, because otherwise it would have taken longer to find his anchor and mate.

#Novkat21 #stereksanta18 #*fic18 #*gifts18

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thesffcorner · 5 years

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The Wise and the Wicked

The Wise and the Wicked is a stand-alone magical realism (fabulism?) written by Rebecca Podos. It follows the Chernyavskys, a family of witches who have moved from Russia to America and now live in Maine. Over the generations they have lost most of their powers, except for one: they can foretell the day they are about to die. I was interested in reading this from the moment I found out this book was about a Russian family and would revolve around Russian mythology and fairy tales. I am starved for some Slavic rep in books, and I’ll take what I can get, even if Russia is the furthest it possibly can be from where I’m from. So it should be no surprise to you that I had some mixed feelings on this book. It does in fact revolve around a Russian family, and I was honestly impressed with how much of the culture Podos had managed to interject into the book. However, I did have some issues with the representation that we’ll talk about later. Let’s start with the positives: this book relies heavily on fairy tales and oral retellings of family tales. A big theme of the book is storytelling; how much of certain tales is true, what stories are chosen to be preserved and passed down, different views on the same event, etc. As any book that deals in Russian Folklore, this too contains Vassa in the Night which is probably the most overused and famous Russian tale in existence. The issue I had with the Russian rep, was that a lot of it felt very superficial and hollow. For example, there are a lot of Russian words used for anything from clothes, to food, to terms of endearment. It makes sense that the younger generations wouldn’t be fluent or even really speak the language, and know only the few words they have heard over and over. However, the way the language was incorporated, and especially the way the characters acted and sounded did not feel Russian. I don’t know if Podos is Russian in heritage; my guess is no, because based on how she writes these characters, it’s as if she read a very thorough wikipedia article on Russian Americans and called it a day. Don’t get me wrong; she has done her due diligence to use the language, and incorporate traditional foods and clothing, but it all felt very flat. These characters don’t sound like any Russian, or even Russian-American I’ve ever met; they just feel false, like characters dressing up for Halloween. It’s so hard for me to explain what exactly caused this disconnect, but I could just tell it was someone who didn’t know the culture or the people, playing dress up; John Wick felt more Russian than this and he’s a) played by a Hawaiian man who can barely pronounce the language, b) supposed to be Georgian. This wasn’t a deal breaker for me, but it did significantly diminish my enjoyment. The authenticity of the story just wasn’t there, and as such all the platitudes about family and blood felt hollow. Even reading the stories and fairytales felt hollow, like Podos doesn’t really understand why Russian folklore is as grim and gruesome, or where any of these ideas about secrecy, mimicry, family sticking together come from. One thing this book does excel at is atmosphere. There were many sections that were downright creepy, and I got the same sense of unease and for lack of a better word, magic, as I did reading The Raven Cycle. Anything that had to do with the girls snooping around Polina’s house, the fates of the Chernyavsky women, and even some of the scenes in the Dov house were quite heavy and unsettling. It has the same half-eery, half-humorous tone as the The Raven Cycle , and the lead Ruby, especially reminded me of Blue. The plot itself was interesting, if a bit predictable. I think, because I have read The Raven Cycle, I already saw where things were going and could predict a lot of the plot points. There was a character with an untimely death, another character with a vision of the future that didn’t match their present state, a family member with ambiguous motivations, a character who is part of a magical family with seemingly no magic, a mysterious boy, etc. None of these are necessarily bad; they were mostly just elements that I had seen already and that made me somewhat disappointed in the story. I was also confused at the end; there are open endings, and then there are endings that are clearly setting up for a sequel. The book is listed as a standalone, so I’m really not sure what happened here; so many things are left unexplained or unresolved, and it doesn’t feel like the story ended; it just simply stopped. The characters were the part of the book that made me want to read to the end; they were what made this into a 3 instead of a 2 star. Let’s start with the Chernyavskys. Polina was the matriarch, and I really liked her. She was the only character that felt Russian; her bluntness, her clear love for her family expressed in food and tough choices. I sort of liked the explanation we get towards the end about what happened to her, but what I really didn’t like was how wasted the potential of the powers were. This is a SPOILER so if you haven’t read the book, skip the next paragraph. We find out that the Chernyavsky power is to take Time from one person and either give it to someone else or to themselves. That’s how Polina had been able to live that long; she had stolen Galena’s time, as well as the Volkov man who owned the house she inherited. This was fascinating because this is exactly the kind of dark magic that Russian folklore is all about; it’s in incredibly powerful gift, but it comes at the cost of other living things. Imagine if we knew this from the start of the book, or earlier and we had more time and more characters dealing with the knowledge that they can buy themselves more Time, but they’d have to kill for it, and that they really were the monsters in the woods. Dahlia and Ginger were fine as Ruby’s two big sisters; I preferred Dhalia to Ginger, but they each get a few scenes to shine. They acted like sisters (the whole barging in on you while in the bathroom or in your room bit sounded very familiar), and they were nice foils to Ruby. Evalina was Ruby’s mother and she was literally just Neeve from The Raven Cycle. Then we have Dov and Talia, the Volkovs. I absolutely loved the way Podos handled Dov. He is a trans character and both in the way she told us his backstory, and in the way she presented him as a character, it was great. It helped a lot that Dov himself was a really likable character, and I enjoyed his back and forth with Ruby. They both have very dry and sarcastic sense of humor, which worked well both for the tone of the book and their personalities. Talia was less fleshed out, but I liked that we get glimpses into what it was like growing up as the heir, the perfect daughter who’s good at everything. Then we have my favorite character who was Cece. She was so sweet and so good, and I really loved her. The scene where she tells Ruby her Time broke my heart. Ruby was annoying, but I really loved her. She was very much an unlikable main character; she is moody, she is unmotivated and apathetic, she’s snappy, basically a teenager. Like Blue, she seems to only care about 3 people in total, which personally grated on me, but it was very consistent with her character. Her obsession with science and finding answers, and especially with Carl Sagan was really endearing and I really liked it. Overall this was an ok book. It had the potential to be more, but it just fell short for me. I think if you like slow, atmospheric reads, or the The Raven Cycle, you will probably enjoy it; just be aware that the ending, leaves a lot to be desired.

goodreads

#the wise and the wicked #moni talks #book review

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jessicakehoe · 5 years

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The Majority of Your Health Problems May Be Linked to Your Gut

There’s a running joke between me and my friends that I’m the “food allergy queen.” And my reputation is not that far from the truth. I’ve eliminated a ton of foods from my diet due to allergies and sensitivities: gluten, dairy, nuts, soy, corn, coconut, chicken and plenty of raw fruits and veggies. But what has perplexed me, and some of my doctors, is that I had eaten all of those foods before without any problems. It wasn’t until seven years ago that everything seemed to go downhill—my eczema was worse than ever, and my digestion was causing me problems on the reg (nausea, bloating, gas and all that other lovely stuff). As it turns out, these issues may have stemmed from my gut.

“If you have food sensitivities, you have [gut] damage,” says Sara Celik, a naturopathic doctor and spokesperson for Renew Life. “If somebody has a reaction to foods and we do a blood test, we’re essentially looking for immunoglobulins—undigested proteins in the blood. They would never get there if there was no damage. They shouldn’t be in the bloodstream—but when they are, we know that they have somehow leaked through.”

The gut, also known as the gastrointestinal tract, which runs from “gum to bum,” is home to approximately 100 trillion micro-organisms. By now we know that many of the bacteria inside our gut protect us from pathogens by acting as a protective lining while promoting normal gastrointestinal function, regulating metabolism and comprising more than 75 per cent of our immune system. “[Good bacteria is] almost like a line of soldiers that protect the gut lining,” explains Celik.

While our intestines, for instance, contain more than 400 species of bacteria—including E. coli—it’s mainly when the composition of our gut changes (read: the bad stuff outweighs the good) that problems begin to arise.

“Leaky gut” is one such problem—albeit a controversial one. The term is often used by the holistic and naturopathic communities, but the condition has only recently begun to be accepted by medical experts, who tend to prefer the term “compromised intestinal permeability.” “Imagine your [gut] as a medieval city that is protected by walls so nobody can come in,” says Dr. Alessio Fasano, director of the Mucosal Immunology and Biology Research Center at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston. “You have bridges that come down so the merchandise can come in and your soldiers can go out, but when you’re done with that, the bridges come up again so you’re protected. That’s the concept of regulating gut permeability.”

Through his research, Fasano discovered zonulin, a gut protein that regulates the openings between the cell walls in the intestines. The production of too much zonulin—which can be caused by genetic predisposition, excessive alcohol consumption, smoking, caffeine, spicy foods or components of gluten—makes it harder for the bridge to come back up, thus allowing a flow of invaders into the bloodstream. “Rather than protecting, [it creates] this continued shortcut for stuff to come into your body,” says Fasano. “This overwhelms your immune system, which starts to fight and creates inflammation.”

Research shows that inflammatory conditions, such as autoimmune disorders like multiple sclerosis (MS) and celiac disease, may be linked to an imbalance of good and bad bacteria. A new study from the University of Iowa Hospitals and Clinics found that subjects with MS had a different microbiota (bacterial community) than their healthy counterparts.

A whole other realm of research is the domain of “psychobiotics”: the study of how bacteria impact our mental state. Aside from the brain stem being directly connected to the gut by the vagus nerve, research has shown that gut bacteria influence brain chemistry and behaviour. Researchers at McMaster University in Hamilton, Ont., altered the gut bacteria in mice using antibiotics, which are known to kill off good bacteria. The affected mice became more anxious and had an increase in brain-derived neurotrophic factor (BDNF), which has been linked to depression and anxiety. Once the antibiotics were discontinued, the bacteria in the gut returned to normal, which also resulted in normal behaviour and brain chemistry.

“The brain and the gut are best friends,” says Dr. Talia Zenlea, internist and gastroenterologist at Women’s College Hospital in Toronto. “The same hormones that control your mood also control your gut.” For instance, lactobacillus and bifidobacterium synthesize gamma-aminobutyric acid (GABA), which can help calm an overactive mind. Another range of even-harder-to-pronounce bacteria, including streptococcus, produces serotonin—a neurotransmitter that regulates mood. I begin to wonder about my clinical-depression diagnosis, which occurred around the same time I developed food sensitivities. Coincidence?

But it’s not only antibiotic use that affects our gut; modern lifestyles are also to blame. From the highly processed foods we often eat to environmental toxins to cortisol-inducing chronic stress, there are many factors that have been scientifically proven to damage our good microbes while fuelling the bad. Thankfully, we can make small lifestyle tweaks that could give our gut a fighting chance.

“The brain and the gut are best friends. The same hormones that control your mood also control your gut.”

For those experiencing “undesirable” symptoms, such as diarrhea, bloating, gas or constipation, Zenlea and Fasano advise removing the triggers causing said symptoms. This might be obvious, but if it’s not, try food journalling to determine a pattern.

Joy McCarthy, holistic nutritionist and ambassador for Genuine Health, suggests using the “4Rs” gut-healing protocol: remove, replace, reinoculate and repair.

In the “remove” stage, all triggers that damage the intestinal lining, including processed foods and common allergenic foods, such as wheat, gluten, dairy and soy, are removed from the patient’s diet. Then, in the “replace” stage, essential components for optimal digestion are added. “This is typically supported by a supplement regimen, or it can be done naturally by introducing bitters—bitter foods, like arugula—and bile-producing foods, like daikon radishes,” explains McCarthy. (Bile, Fasano notes, is very much disliked by most bad bacteria.)

From there, the patient moves on to the “reinoculate” stage, where probiotics are introduced to help repopulate the good bacteria and “crowd out” the bad bacteria that are causing adverse side effects. Probiotics can be taken in supplement form or by eating or drinking fermented foods, such as kimchi, sauerkraut, miso paste and kombucha.

In the “repair” stage, the gut lining is repaired and resealed with things like L-glutamine, which has been proven to protect against mucosal breakdown in the gut, and natural anti-inflammatories, like omega-3 fish oils, which have been shown to promote friendly bacteria in the gut. Repairing the lining could help prevent foreign pathogens from passing through.

But perhaps the best place to start is damage prevention: You can help grow your good bacteria with prebiotics, which are easy to get from whole foods such as bananas, apples, onions, garlic and other fruits and veggies. “Think of it this way: Prebiotics are like food for the probiotics,” says registered dietitian Andy De Santis. “The probiotics break down the prebiotics and they grow in number, which is good because probiotics are healthy bacteria so prebiotics are food for the healthy bacteria in your gut.” So, yes, the old advice of “Eat more fruits and veggies” still applies.

Funnily enough, I have never been one to eat too many fruits or vegetables. Give me carbs, meat and sugar any day, but greens and fruits (aside from in smoothies)? No, thank you. But it’s safe to say that now I have much more incentive to include them in my diet, especially if it will help ease my symptoms in the long run.

And, really, while gut health is an extremely complicated and complex topic, the fix is essentially quite simple. Sure, there are plenty of external factors, like stress, that can’t be easily controlled, and it’s unlikely that I’m going to give up alcohol forever or stop taking medications, whether they be antibiotics, antidepressants or over-the-counter allergy drugs. And there may not be a yes or no answer, which I suppose I was looking for at the start; I wanted to hear that all of my woes were one masterful probiotic pill away. But it looks like I’m going to have to put in the work to find out. My plan of attack? The 4Rs method. I’ve got the removal stage down already, since I’ve already eliminated so many foods from my diet, but now I have to start adding in some gut-friendly foods, like more of those daikon radishes, arugula and perhaps even dandelion greens, as well as fish oils and probiotics, and fewer bad-bacteria-supporting gluten-free pastas and sugary drinks. I’ve been told that this regimen could take months to show results in my skin or elsewhere, but it’s well worth the wait.

Hippocrates, the father of modern medicine, once said that all diseases begin in the gut…and by the looks of it, he was onto something.

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