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idyllcy · 9 months

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I'm so impulsive, got a flight to the east coast already

word count: 1.5k

summary: As Tim sits on the plane, he can only— shit. You're cute.

Three days, four hours, two minutes, and eleven seconds counting.

That's how long Tim's been awake.

Sure, he should do something that isn't flying out for personal business last minute in economy class— but he should also really not be allowed to stay awake for so long. He needs to fly back to Gotham from Jump City, and somehow, for some wretched, cruel twist of fate, he's stuck flying economy class because Bruce is using the private plane for WE business. First class is somehow, cruelly, awfully booked full, and even business class was not let up. Tim Drake, for the first time since birth, is stuck sitting in economy class, cramming with others. He's sure this is payback for being awake for three days without a single nap.

Maybe he'd get kidnapped for ransom on top of it.

"Here's your ticket. You'll be at gate 20." The lady at the register smiles.

Tim has no carry-ons other than his messenger bag, and for the first time in ages, TSA is hell to go through. He waits in line with the rest of the people, hands them his ID, gets a plethora of questions asked to him about why he was flying economy, and finally makes it to the gate. He wonders if he should use his card to check into the VIP lounge, but he has barely any time to think about it, noticing his flight's already about to board.

He ends up being one of the last ones to board, running to his gate and handing them his ticket before entering. God, he needs to get a plane of his own with his inheritance sometime. Flying in economy sounds like the worst experience yet, and sure, he's privileged to say it— but he'd much rather stick to first class or even business at worse.

Though, as he meets eyes with the person he's sitting next to, he pauses.

Oh. Shit. You're cute.

"Awh..." You pout playfully. "And here I thought I'd be able to get three whole seats to myself."

Tim laughs to the best of his ability, sitting next to you and tucking his bag under his seat, yawning as he slouches back.

"Long day?"

"Long week." He mumbles.

"Yeah? Tell me about it." You yawn too, slouching back into your seat. Tim glances at you as you tilt your head at him, curious to see what was his problem. Maybe it would pique your interest. A six-hour flight really doesn't sound that bad, but then again, Tim needs some sort of sleep before he knocks out. Right. Shit. He forgot his neck pillow.

"Call me privileged, but this is my first time flying economy." He blinks. "God, I'm tired."

"Want my pillow?" You pull it from your neck, holding it out for Tim.

"Are you an angel?"

"Erm, not quite." You smile awkwardly, shrugging. "But I don't sleep on domestic flights."

"What are you flying for?" Tim clips the pillow around his neck, moaning quietly at the comfort.

"Family. I heard one of my parents got hurt. I bought the only ticket left."

"Funny. I'm going back for family business too." Tim snorts.

How you have not yet called Tim out for being a Wayne is beyond him. He's too tired to analyze you, sinking into his seat as he closes his eyes, humming as you continue rambling.

"So? Why this flight?"

"Got a call from my old man this morning about how I needed to attend a meeting for him." Tim mumbles. "God do I hate him sometimes."

"Business meeting?"

"Yeah. The worst part is that those old geezers weren't willing to host it on Zoom like a normal person." Tim sighs. "They made me buy my own ticket too. The disrespect is wild."

"Do they do this to your dad?"

"Never." Tim groans. "If I fall asleep while you talk, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Sounds rough." You smile. "Any drink orders?"

"Zesti." He mumbles. "But a can, please."

"I'll let them know." You hum.

Tim knocks out cold. It's the quickest he's slept in ages, and the neck pillow feels so good he thinks he's going to heaven. He wouldn't mind dying on this plane— Not when he's sleeping so well. God, maybe he'd actually have a better flight experience on economy. (it would, however, NOT be a more than once experience. Economy was a nightmare. That was his sleep deprivation speaking, not him.)

You open your laptop, go back to your document, and join the free internet as you continue typing on the document. You text the server for advice, bouncing ideas off of each other as you go on a tangent about the cute boy next to you at the airport. The chat goes insane as you try to explain that there is no way you are going to meet him again; the universe simply would not allow it, but they ignore you, spilling story prompts and stirring the worms in your brain. Fuck.

You grumble quietly as you start a new document for the idea.

Halfway through the flight, Tim leans onto your side, head meeting your shoulder, his lips parted as he drools a little, eyes still closed. You blink at him slowly, making sure he was still asleep before going back to typing. You order him a can of Zesti when the flight attendants come by before typing on your laptop again. You wonder if he knows anything about the vigilantes of Gotham. Maybe you'll ask him when he wakes up. Though, as you write fanfiction for a meet-cute with a vigilante on a plane, you think you'd rather die than ask him a question about vigilantism. Your boldness could only go so far.

When you finish your drink and doc, you glance at the time. You had another two hours to kill before descent, and you were kind of starting to regret not bringing another neck pillow. Listen. He's cute. You'd give your neck pillow to him any day if it meant he would call you an angel. His voice? His face? God, he was so hot it was kind of daunting. Maybe you'd ask him for his number later. Then again, he'd probably say no. What kind of a Gotham elite would give his number to a random person?

Hell, it's not as if you even went to school in Gotham either. You try and put your finger on which Gotham elite he is, but you come to no fruit as you think of the big ones. There's no way he's Bruce Wayne despite the uncanny blue eyes and black hair combo. Maybe one of his sons? But then again, Dick Grayson was much taller than the boy next to you. You don't actually recall what his other two sons look like. Two? Three? You don't remember if his second son is alive. Last you checked, he is. So it'd be three, huh? It's also definitely not his Asian daughter.

You give up on figuring out who he is and settle for closing your laptop and putting it back in your bag, closing your eyes as you rest your head on his, racing heart only calming when you fall asleep.

The two of you stay that way until a flight attendant wakes you up to put your tray back, waking Tim too on accident, the boy blinking slowly as you close the tray, tilting his head at you.

"God, maybe I am in heaven." He mumbles.

You laugh much brighter this time, warmth flushing your skin and blood rushing to your neck, embarrassed as Tim registers his own words, horrified at his boldness.

"I'm so sorry—"

"No, no." You continue laughing, the joy still in your voice as you continue. "I'm touched. I don't get called angel often."

"Really?" Tim mumbles. "How long until landing?"

"Thirty minutes." You smile. "They had me put my tray back. You can go back to sleep if you want—"

"Can I have your number?" Tim blurts.

"A-ah?" You stare at him wide-eyed.

"Oh, is that too much? I just really wanted to go out with you for coffee, you see. You can say no if you're uncomfortable, really. You're allowed to do that. Actually, please do that. I don't know if I'll be able to—"

"Yes!" You cut him off. "Yeah. Yeah. You can have my number."

The two of you exchange numbers the last thirty minutes of the flight, names and information exchanged, a light flush on your cheeks, and a visible one on Tim's face.

Tim thinks this is his reward for flying economy for once. (And maybe, just maybe, he'd fly economy back if it meant he would be with you again.)

#tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #red robin imagine #red robin x reader #dc x reader #☾.fics

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srlkiller · 7 months

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ive realised that my self esteem & just general ‘sense of self’/love for myself is so awful & low.. horribly dependant & reliant on something or someONE else these days & i absolutely fucking loathe myself for ittttttt bc im beyond self aware.. yet ive jus never been loved my entire life by even my own parents to be shown that im worth a singular fuck so the bar is so low for humans… i seemingly will jus allow the fucking worst bc i guess subconsciously that’s what ive always been taught/shown/drilled into me by my parents to believe that i deserve? wen i know it’s not at all bc literally NO ONE deserves to be treated like shit by another human being. i have trouble saying the words no to other people. i have a lot of trouble just standing up for myself these days.. especially the lonelier i get, the more isolated i have become & older ive gotten. i found comfort in being alone & definitely got to know myself sm better.. then i went thru horrible shit all over again & lost myself completely.. all over again.. & haven’t been able to rebuild myself back up since then.. ive only gone downhill.. over & over & over. i know that I AM the only one that inevitably can help myself & save myself.. i have to do the work & put in the effort etc etc but it’s so hard with absolutely ZERRROOO support system of any kind & feeling like you have nothing & no one.. not one family member.. not one pet.. nothing at all anymore. everything has been ripped from me, taken by force or by death itself. I’ve been broken sm times but now that ive finally been able to let someone in again on some kind of romantic level.. im terrified.. so im letting them jus walk all over me which is the total opposite of who I am & everything i stand for, emulate as a woman & my whole fucking energy as a being. i don’t recognise myself at all so ive totally seperated myself from whoever this is.. the body, the mind.. the soul. i numb every feeling n thought i can.. whenever i can. but wow just having this huge surgery & putting my body under such duress & jeopardy was lowkey such a wake up call bc wtf?! IVE NEVER DONE NO SHIT LIKE FHIS BEFORE FOR ANYONE ELSE?!?! AND FOR WHAATTTT?!?! HE HAD THE PERF OPPORTUNITY TO DO EVERYTHING FHE RIGHT WAY N STILL FUXKED IT UP TO SATISFY HIS OWN SELFISH NEEDS.. so wtf am i doing? what am i doing risking myself for someone like that… i look stupid, feel stupid.. & could get left at any minute which would send me spiraling for someone who is quite frankly… not even close to what i need in a man or what ive ever wanted. im simply cheating myself out of a great self help story.. as i turn 29.. i reach my last year if my 20’s & I’ll b damned if i waste that shit on some young dumb n full of cum mf who doesn’t even give a fuck ab my health in any capacity who is probably lying n doing god knows what behind my back anyway… I seriously just need to put myself first.. just try.. I need to try. bc remember when I did? how proud I was? how it worked? it’s always worked. time to start writing goals n writing shit down again.. as we start approaching this date n it gets closer n closer.. on the 25/11/23 I’ll be 29 yall. it’s the 13/11/23 today. 11 days to get things in order. my goals don’t even need to be big I jus need to get things ‘in order’… ‘ready for 29’ sounds like a cool lil title.. as my bday is pretty much leading into the New Year anyway it’d b cool to get a lil head start on others too. like the needles into my head for alopecia which I have an appt for jus before my bday.. lashes n brows I have that appt for.. i needa get my actual hair done somehow.. before nye!! change my piercings to cold & possibly get another?! more tattoos!! coverup of the Drake matching one for sure. Look into studying pharmacology or some other career pathway course.. possibly something with units I’ve completed already at uni?? i need to write a list.. basically is what I’m saying as some things are more easy fix small goals that are appearance self care based, some are medium level, some are mental, some are spiritual, some are academic, some will take

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jackalsinthekitchen · 1 year

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pop report #4 (2/4/23)

new beginnings and the same old songs – pop is art & art is pop

How’s your week going? Mine’s alright. A new week of American chart action is coming to a close, with another shuffle of the cards due tomorrow. What does it all mean? Perhaps nothing. But locating the beauty and excitement and innovation and empowerment and restoration in apparent meaninglessness is why we love pop music in the first place. Though I guess “meaninglessness” is for the old days, when men in suits decried the slide from Johnnie Ray to Fabian – yearning for the more contained, prudent noise of, oh, Mitch Miller, another tie-throttled hater who did more to trivialize music than Elvis ever did.

Well. It isn’t the ‘50s, it’s the ‘20s (christ): pop music is artistic expression, & it sounds better than ever.

It may not be better than ever. What has our ever-polarized country enjoyed most this week? Miley Cyrus finally appears atop the country’s slowest and most significant chart, keeping “Kill Bill” down, though SZA can take historical solace in how many great songs stalled at #2. The Cyrus hit sounds better with each play – its music groovy and juicy, its self-love anthem lyrics as vital as those kinds of things always are. As I opined last week, however, for a woman who seems to flock to extremes, MC’s songs always feel so hedged – the chaos and lunacy she deploys more naturally than most pop stars are often difficult to find in her actual music. As art for money’s sake goes, “Flowers” feels fresh enough. But SZA’s hit, and its parent album, really are great art: formally inventive, emotionally raw yet nuanced, musically dreamy without disappearing into the ether, her specialty. That it’s selling is a credit to us (U.S.).

“Anti-Hero” settles into a respectable #3. I wish someone would explain to me, in concise and exciting fashion, why the turnarounds on these entries are so slow. How many different experiences an hour is TikTok? 150? We obviously have a voracious appetite for different shit. But this is how it’s always been, and anyway, Swift’s hit has yet to lose its luster for me. “Creepin” hangs in high; recall that the Weeknd is the guy who finally unseated “The Twist” as the bestselling song in Billboard’s entire history. The thing about the Weeknd, which seems to have been buried by a decade’s passage, is that when he first appeared, with the genuinely underground House of Balloons, he really seemed like a creep. That whole “when I’m fucked up, that’s the real me” shit – his music his almost always about sex, but also always sounds ominous and tortured, and I don’t know how to reconcile those things. But this is a fucked-up country, so honestly if he helps people exorcise lust and pain at once, great. Mope on, Week.

His albums are all over the charts too, reminding me that in terms of pure sales, the Weeknd and Drake are the Elton John and Paul McCartney (& Wings) of their era. SZA, at least, reigns supreme over in that top 10, with Midnights once again right up there too. While both albums are the kind you could live in comfortably for months on end – they draw your worst feelings out, subject them to a full spa treatment and six-session therapy course, and put them right back where they belong – it does seem like SZA’s is decisively better. Taylor’s chronic if inconsistent ungainliness, her ability to settle on the silliest and most awkward couplet in the world and match it to a judiciously sincere vocal and gloriously predictable melody, is part of her charm. But SOS’s lyrical wisdom and musical efficacy are a level above.

We’ll get back to #s 3 and 4 on the album charts – which are NEW ENTRIES – briefly noting that 5-10 are Metro Boomin’s Gloomiest Hits, Drake & 21 Savage Present: Women! Am I Right?, Bad Bunny es Jodidamente Sexy, Offensive: That Very Long Country Album, Zach Bryan’s record (which is still a real joy on contact, so I hope there’s nothing MAGA in the lyrics), and Growing Up Baby (by L. Baby). But because this isn’t readily available information, I should go back to running down the top singles. “Unholy” lives! People still think “I’m Good” is good! They’d die for “Die for You”! They think “Rich Flex” is a flex, Rich! “As it Was” is still there, as it was! “Golden Hour” is having its (OK OK. I’ll apologize later)

Getting back to #3 and #4 on the album charts: Trippie Redd – there’s a pair of words I’ve never seen, but this is his fifth album – is #3, a fairly conventional-sounding hard trap record whose track list is full of pairs of words I have seen, like “Chief” and “Keef”, “Juice” and “WRLD”. (The latter deserves the work he’s still getting four years after his death.) As for #4, if you saw how the artist’s name (HARDY) and the song titles (“beer”), not to mention the album title (the mockingbird & THE CROW), are styled (like THIS), well you wouldn’t know what to think. But though I’m not exactly sure what HARDY stands for (Hey! A Real Damn Yokel, maybe? “ain’t talkin politics, I’m talkin small towns, and if you’re FRUM WON you know what I’m TALKIN BAHOUT”), he’s a country act produced like a pop metal act – like Trippie, solid but unimaginative.

Look: part of why I want to examine these charts is that I have Boomer’s Kid Syndrome. I try to trick my ears into thinking it’s decades ago. But I wanna know what’s happening now, and since the monoculture is decomposing, I feel like this is the closest I can get to a consensus. Of course, this leaves out a wealth of brilliant indie music – not a genre, I remind you, but a classification based on distribution and, consequently, the expected reach of the musical product in question. Indie’s broken into our charts many times, and there was a minute between the aughts & the teens where pure pop actually began to feel like the underdog.

Though power is power, privilege is privilege and good old capitalism is shitty old capitalism, I don’t like to draw these distinctions between pop and art – it’s all pop art, man. It’s like people I remember from school who used to insist that “movies” and “films” are different things, a misguided stance exemplified by the annual kerfuffle in which a thing like Top Gun: Maverick gets nominated for Best Picture and roughly equal portions of people flip their shit (positive and negative). But art is good or bad, and there isn’t even a science to prove which, or how much. Pure enjoyment and undeniable profundity can coexist; can even be melded into the same moment.

So yeah: there’s so much more music to write about than whatever will take these top slots throughout the year, and because this is my brand new blog on fucking Tumblr which at the moment nobody reads (I’m talkin to YOU, reader), I can write something like this: I don’t know what this blog is going to be yet, exactly. For a little over a decade I’ve been writing freelance very casually and with a regrettable dearth of ambition, with little victories and lengthy droughts. I used to write a lot more and a lot worse, but then and now I only ever seem to write about pop music. I have a real thing for the now-octogenarian Dean of American Rock Critics Robert Christgau, who can get away with unwieldier sentences and more absurdly obscure words than anybody should ever try. But in the spirit of finding the momentum in the core of a new beginning, I figured I’d give myself a place to write with no rules, save for the ones I set.

I knew quickly on that writing a piece at a rough rate of one per week could burn me out fast, and have discovered that these Billboard redundancies don’t make for very fresh content. But as I was going down the latest list, recognizing that this piece is nearly a week late by my own arbitrary deadline, I realized something. I missed a week! I didn’t bug you at all about the week of January 28th! So now, not only do you not know what happened, you don’t even know how I feel about it. While I feel true, deep regret for this act of deprival, it’s useful in that it proves to me that the world won’t end if I skip a week. Or two. Or six. But that’s these chart beats. I have plenty to say about all kinds of shit that happened long before.

So adieu for now, with Jackals! to return and roam around a few new fields sometime before this next month comes in like a lion. (February in Texas is more like a hippo – deceptively sedate until it rises up, roars, and bites you through the torso). Thanks so much for reading, you two. And since it’s quiet enough here to not risk embarrassing her, I’ll add a bit more gratitude to that which I give her regularly, and thank Jenna Caire for editing these pieces – a startlingly enjoyable process – & designing our logo.

#theweeknd #metroboomin #sza #taylorswift #hardy #trippieredd #eltonjohn #topgunmaverick #mitchmiller #robertchristgau

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sunlightandsuffering · 3 years

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Prompt : they are both famous and secretly dating.

tbh I don't know what this is or if it makes any sense at all, so sorry anon for butchering ur prompt, but I'm a basic bitch and I like my drake, so like this is gonna be pain bcuz my favourite song on the new album is just pain and I can't stop thinking about a fucked up celebs relationship to it, just ANGST AND PAIN!! 😭😭 but those lyrics hit, can't believe I wrote a song fic ugh circa Tumblr 2015 jfc I'mma write a happier ending to this in another prompt 😂 bc someone else asked for the same thing.

Fucking Fans

I'm still working on me

Eren stands at the Met Gala, holding Mikasa by the waist, giving a cramped smile for photos and keeping her close. People call their names and cameras flash and his beloved blinks, hiding her face into his shoulder as the lights overwhelm her.

He looks down at her lovingly as some jackass reporter yells about a cheating rumour and her pretty face pinches up. Eren is quick to comfort her with his touch, both hands gripping her waist reassuringly as he decides it's time for them to go inside.

"Come on Miki," he kisses her forehead and she nods, accepting. Neither of them wants to think about those rumours, the damage and the pain they bring up is too much and it's all his fault, he knows, but he can't undo it.

The guilt eats at him and she holds his hand tighter, the despair takes him and she cuddles him at night.

They're together now but sometimes Eren wonders just how it happened, how he came back from falling so far. How she took him back when he fucked up so massively.

And I'm coming back better for you

The day he shows up on her door step again is the day of the biggest awards show of the season, the one he knows she's going to kill and probably sweep several categories. Just because she's that amazing. He finds her where he expects, in her apartment, the address Armin gave him, doing her own hair and makeup, humble Mikasa just like always, ironing out her own dress. He shows up in a suit with as many white roses as he can fit into a bouquet and ready to leave if she still hates him, which she has every right to.

But he's been through months of therapy, gave Armin control of his bank account, and check himself into rehab thrice, every time he was even inching closer to relapse.

He's not fixed, but he's better, marginally, and he wants her to know it, know he still loves her at the very least.

She opens the door, beautiful even without makeup, and wearing a white slip and her pretty red mouth parts in shock.

All he can do is hold out his roses as tears leave his eyes at seeing her for the first time in months.

Most times it was my selfishness and your helplessness that I took advantage of

It was so easy with Mikasa, she was so devoted to him. So loving and sweet, always there for him.

She'd wait up, let him do what he wanted, never wanting to stifle or control him. Too afraid their tenuous relationship would crack and they'd break up.

A part of him blames her for it, for being so willing to let him do what he wanted. She'd been passive, unsure how to insert herself, had minimal complaints, letting him ruin his life party by party, late night after late night, drugs and alcohol all of it.

But he knows he can never hold her accountable for his own actions, and the day she's finally done with his bullshit is both the best and worst day of his life. She finally says no, and it begins his path to fixing himself. Because hitting rock bottom is losing the most important thing in his life, and that's Mikasa.

You sit in the house and I be out and I know you're worried, up

The problem with her passivity is he knows it's not passivity at all, she just doesn't know what to do, how to fix him. Eren has always had a temper, and she's known him for a long time, knows he'll lash out and behave worse if provoked. So she'd reacted as best she could, leaving rehab pamphlets out, asking him to stay in and watch movies, bake with her, anything other than going out to party.

But he'd stumble home every night and see her asleep on the couch, waiting. Always there to pick him up instead of a cab, not wanting the paparazzi to get a hold of him, she was always there.

And you try and block it out

They lived in a bubble, they pretended it didn't happen. They didn't acknowledge when he was too hungover to shoot the next morning. She'd brew him coffee, get him through the day, flush his drug stash when they checked, both his saving grace and biggest enabler.

Even when he's kissing her for more than just an on-screen kiss, lips drinking her in like a man starved, and the next morning she finds new girls in his bed, she keeps quiet.

They're a mess, but every time she dutifully kicks the girls out and drags him to the shower.

I'm so sorry for letting you down

When he'd first become famous, he hadn't known what to do with himself. He'd been scouted for how many movies, tv-shows, underwear commercials, brand deals. It was a whirlwind as Hollywood found their new boy wonder, handsome, smart and a nice boy.

His best friend, and female love interest in their debut movie, Mikasa, who had followed him to Hollywood on nothing more than a whim, was equally bombarded with fame and fortune. They'd always been close, always best friends, but never quite more, no matter how much they both obviously wanted it. It never progressed beyond a few acted kisses.

Still, they got an apartment together, and Eren had thought it was the start of something great, he was living the dream. Rich and famous with his best friend, the girl he'd secretly loved since he was young.

He'd been content just to stay up late and watch movies with her before work, to visit her on set and bring her donuts. They were Hollywood's shining stars, two kids sickeningly sweet in love even though they weren't officially dating, they were as good as.

At the advice of his agent, he'd started doing more, started picking up a few other gigs on the side, modelling, but he kept it small, he didn't want to overwhelm himself, and he still wanted time for Mikasa.

It had gone well, they'd taken fame okay, and Eren had been proud, neither of them had a sex-scandal or a pregnancy scare yet. They'd even been inching towards finally being something more than just friends, a few heated looks, some on-stage kisses to finally get the ball rolling.

Then Mikasa had been cast in an upcoming romance movie and her love interest hadn't been Eren, it had been Jean.

That had been the start of his spiral.

He'd never meant for it to get so far out of control, how many movies he started doing, how many promotions. Meanwhile Mikasa, smart, brilliant Mikasa stuck with smaller projects and only ever one at a time, preferring to keep close to their apartment. He was all she had, and she was all he wanted.

Nights when I just needed to hold somebody

He misses her, lays in bed awake at night thinking about her, how long it’s been, when was the last time he saw the curve of her face in person and not in a washed-out picture on a magazine. Girls in and out of his apartment, trying to fill the empty void inside him, and nothing works, nothing ever works. Because he’d fucked it up, said he didn’t need her, told her he could do it on his own, fame wouldn’t take him. Called each other names, every one in the book, screaming matches over stupid shit, if he should take that job, what she was doing with Jean, how she was eating, if she was eating enough.

The toxicity was palpable in their apartment until finally Mikasa just left and he broke.

Feeling overwhelmed, should've told somebody

Fame takes him like a drug addiction, actually it comes with a drug addiction, heroine, cocaine, molly, all of it. In trying to ditch his Hollywood’s sweetheart, good boy image he diverts his life so radically he doesn’t know if he can ever get back to where he was. He loses weight, barely gets by, he doesn’t even understand how he’s still getting booked, but people want him even more now that he’s Hollywood’s bad boy. Meanwhile Mikasa is disgraced now that he’s ‘thrown her away’ even though it was the other way around. Last he heard she lived in a little apartment on the upper east side, leaves only to work, and to fly up to see their families. He hasn’t seen his parents in months, doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to see the look in their eyes when they realize how skinny he’s gotten, how his body lacks muscle, skin barely clinging to bone, gaunt and lifeless.

He needs help, but he’s spiraling, he’s committed and no matter how many times Armin tries to get him into rehab, he never goes. What’s the point Mikasa is gone, he’s not getting her back, all he has now is the money, the drugs, and the women.

Picturin' it's me sending chills through your body

He hears she’s dating Jean now and somehow, he gets worse.

Every fear he’d ever had comes to life and he gets angry, his temper coming back full force. The past few months he’d barely been getting by, not really living, but his rage awakens him. She’d told him no, that they weren’t dating, never so much as kissed outside of work. What a fucking lie.

How many girls he takes home that month he doesn’t know, how many paparazzi photos of women leaving his apartment, how he dreams it’s Mikasa under him, not some rando.

He sees her on the cover of some magazine, walking innocently with Jean and it sends him into even more of a rage, but under it all he wishes it was him, doesn’t matter that they were never official, that it only happened a few times, he wants her back. But Eren’s never been good at navigating his emotions, so he clings to his rage like a lifeline.

I just probably should've chilled 'til I saw you

When they ask about her in interviews, he doesn’t answer. Not until that once, when he lets it slip and he watches Armin wilt in real time from behind the camera as he spits the words, “I think it’s obvious, she’s with Jean now isn’t she, right after she was with me, figure it out yourself.”

The insinuation is lethal, cruel, mean and he knows it’s not true, but he says it anyway. He knows she didn't do it, but still the coincidence hurts too much, the very thought that there might have been something romantic going on with them before makes him want to throw up.

The interviewer looks shocked before he brightens up at the tidbit of information, like a vulture picking apart the last pieces of his heart, massacring it further, but Eren doesn’t mind the pain anymore. It fuels his rage and that’s all he has these days.

How am I supposed to get to know somebody?

When the rage wears off months later and Mikasa has done nothing, no comment on his interviews, no appearances, no angry texts, just silence, he becomes numb. Then the sadness sets in, because losing her romantically isn’t even the worst part, he doesn’t even have his best friend anymore, he’s lost her too.

She’s become a recluse, a hermit, he hasn’t even seen her with Jean on the magazine covers lately. Distantly he knows it’s because their movie is finished filming, and she was probably never dating him in the first place.

He goes to awards shows in hopes of at least catching a glimpse but she’s gone into hiding, there’s rumours she’s back in their hometown, but he’d never visit, not with the disgrace he’s become. He tries to date seriously, tries to talk to other actresses, but it’s all so vacant, disingenuous. All they want him for is his image, there’s nothing real about these women anymore, everything is fake, plastic right down to their boobs. Nothing like Mikasa, who was pure to her core, even in the face of her fame.

If we broke it off then you know it wasn't painless

He'd cried for weeks after she'd ended it, despite it being entirely his fault.

Armin had cancelled all his engagements and Eren hadn't left the apartment, curling himself up on her empty mattress, her room a barren wasteland.

He'd only eaten when Armin forced him too, and only come out of his hibernation after his mother had called to yell, Armin holding the phone right in his ear, the first time he'd spoken to her in forever.

If she got a watch then you know it's not a stainless

He’s got money, but it means nothing. Mikasa has money too, it doesn’t even matter. What has it all been for? He doesn’t even know anymore. All he’s gotten from his acting career is trust issues, more money than he knows what do with and the loss of his best friend and the only girl he’s ever loved.

It’s all a blur now, he acts, he models, he does PR. Armin makes him a schedule and he follows it. They meet with his nutritionist and his personal trainer, and he starts working out again, eating real food, not just smoking, and drinking coffee to supress his appetite.

Armin is the only reason he’s still a functioning human being as Eren hits rock bottom. The only one left to try and push him out.

I was out here fucking fans, I was shameless

He knows he fucked up, it’s why he starts therapy.

The shit he’d done, high off his own fame and arrogance, it’s messed up and he he knows it now. All the girls, all the money and the drugs, ignoring Mikasa’s concerns, dragging her down with him.

He doesn’t blame her now, he knows none of it was fair, she was justified in leaving. They were toxic, their half on, half off relationship, how he'd commit to the drugs but never her.

He can still remember the first time he kissed her, really kissed her, Eren and Mikasa not two characters on screen. It was after their first awards show for their movie, he’d been so excited, so delightfully sober, he couldn’t help himself, she’d been so pretty in her white dress, he’d leaned down before he could stop himself. The first night they’d had sex, her moans, her soft cries of pleasure, nothing had ever measured up since.

It had been bliss, for about a month or so and then they’d really been discovered, and it had all been shot to hell.

All the fans, all the women throwing themselves at him, his eyes couldn’t help but wander despite Mikasa always being the most radiant in the room. He had her love, he’d had everything, but that insidious voice in the back of his head had wondered. Thought the grass was greener on the other side, wanting to explore fame at the same time they’d finally started their relationship.

You was at the crib reading stories that they sent you

They’d kept it casual at Eren’s insistence and Mikasa’s heartbreak, his rock had been willing to allow it for him, for the chance to finally explore their relationship. But he could see how much it hurt her, the tabloids were the worst part, every day a new cover, another apartment he’d leave, another hookup in the parking lot. And he could barely justify it to himself, why he did it, why he continued to do it? He had everything he could ever want in Mikasa, the girl he’d loved since forever, finally in the palm of his hand, willing to give herself wholly to him.

And yet fame had called him more, and the people he was hanging out with only encouraged it, the famous lifestyle, drugs, sex and rock and roll.

Everyone was doing it, so why shouldn’t he?

Most of that was bullshit but some of it I did do

The rumours spiralled out of control after a while, there was nothing he could do, it was over, they had too much on him.

He'd been telling himself lies that maybe she was with Jean on the side, that she had the same opportunities as him, she could go out and sleep around too.

As if Mikasa would ever even consider it.

He’d finally given into being exclusive, seeing the toll it was taking on Mikasa, after Armin smacked him upside the head and told him he was going to lose her if he didn’t get his shit together. Eren had finally realized how irreversibly he was fucking up his relationship, but by then, it had been too late.

When they finally started truly dating, monogamy and all, it had been far, far too late. The backlog of photos the paparazzi had was ridiculous, any opportunity they got to demonize him they took.

He and Mikasa been casual at the time of all the photos, sure, but anyone would buckle under the weight of constant articles about their significant other cheating. Eren became the villain in his own story, and Hollywood loved it, ‘Bad Boy Eren Yeager Ditches Mikasa Ackerman’. He still remembers the headline, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back, she’d come home, dropped the offending magazine on the coffee table and hidden in her room for the rest of the night. He’d slept outside her door, and the next morning he’d been woken by her stepping over him to leave, bags packed.

It was sad, they’d never even officially dated to the public, they hadn’t gotten to that point. She’d wanted to reveal it at some awards show by taking him as her date, thanking him in her speech, her boyfriend, Eren Yeager. Overnight the paparazzi had singlehandedly broken them up for shit he hadn’t even done.

He had no one but himself to blame.

Hard for me to justify the women I was into

Looking back, he can’t say why he did it or what the purpose of all the models that looked eerily like her were for. Maybe he was trying to fill the empty space in his heart, maybe he felt neglected by her friendship with Jean and how obvious the man’s feeling for her were, but for one reason or another, he’d slept his way through about half of the Victoria’s Secret fashion show, and award shows were awkward these days. Meeting the eyes of all the talented women he’d hooked up with in such a professional setting was uncomfortable at best.

How many more did he not even remember, to high off drugs and alcohol and his own ego?

Especially when the whole entire world wished they had you

He’d seen it in how Jean looked at her the first time they’d walked the red carpet as promotion for their movie. The tall man was a b-list actor and he’d been invited to the pre-screening, and he’d watched Mikasa the entire night. His gaze wasn’t moved by Eren’s arm wrapped protectively around her waist or his chin resting on her head, nor the possessive hand on her thigh.

They hadn’t even been fooling around back then, but he couldn’t help himself, he didn’t want Jean’s eyes on her. She was also Mikasa Ackerman, and the whole world thought she was just as beautiful and amazing and perfect as he did.

But she was his. His best friend, love of his life, his everything

If only he’d treated her like it.

Probably made you want to hit the streets on everything

She doesn't take him to the awards show the night he comes begging, but she lets him inside her apartment. Lets him help her with her hair, something he's sorely missed. Something he's familiar with, been braiding her hair since they were kids.

He helps her put it up into a beautiful twist.

And when Jean knocks at her door to take her to the awards show he lets her go, kisses her cheek and tells her how much he loves her, how she's going to win it all and he'll be waiting her when she gets back.

And then she leaves, walks away with another man and Eren thinks he deserves it, it's his penance, how many times has she felt this same way, how many women has he been through?

Probably made you want to pour bleach on everything

He discovers not a single remnant of himself in her apartment, no pictures, no clothes she's borrowed. Even his old sweatshirt, her favourite one is gone. Hell, even their award for best-onscreen-kiss is gone.

He finds it all in a crumpled box under her bed and it's his own fault for snooping, their photo crumpled up and misshapen, riddled with water damage. Probably from her tears if he had to guess.

Probably made you want to kill me on everything

She comes home that night and Eren is surprised, he'd expected her to go to Jean's. Hadn't really believed she was going to come back. Had resigned himself to sleeping on the couch and waiting till tomorrow when she'd come home dishevelled and covered in hickeys and bruises, the kind good sex gives you. The kind he'd never really allowed himself to give her.

That's when she'd really broken and he'd been so fucking happy when she'd thrown her purse at him. No more of her her silent rage, her forced smiles. She'd kicked and screamed, cried in his arms only to hit him brutally with a pillow, chasing him to the end of the couch. Hands restraining his wrists, as she curses him out, tears running down her beautiful cheeks sparkling in the moonlight, she's a vengeful goddess and he deserves every second of her wrath.

She collapses on top of him in a heap of sobs and all he can do is hold her, hating himself just as much as he's sure she does.

Yeah, trust, I know that

He wakes the next morning with her weight in his arms, and he holds her like he never wants to let go.

He's lucky she's even here with him right now, that she didn't kick him out on the spot. That she even cares enough to still fight with him. He kisses her forehead softly, he knows.

Yeah I kinda hate this but whatever have angst 🤷🏻‍♀️

#lys's drabbles

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listentothelittlebird · 3 years

Text

This was a first draft to Protect Our Own, from my Code Bat series on Ao3! It’s a reimagining of Jason Todd breaking into Titans tower, in a world where Robin is a myth and Tim Drake goes by Alvin, unnamed vigilante, with the Titans. Enjoy!

Shit. Jason was screwed.

Even as he held the tablet in his hands, watching the very concerning stalker-level footage that the League had gathered, he knew. He knew without a doubt that he was watching the new Robin. The target chosen for him was, of all the options the world could give him, Robin.

“This boy is a member of a group of young superheroes known as Young Justice. They recently went under the mentorship of older superheroes, to become the newest team of Teen Titans,” Talia Al Ghul explained passively, and Jason did not like the gleam in her eyes as she watched the young boy fight, “Lady Shiva met the boy, once, and agreed to train him. Even she is unaware of who his previous mentors were.”

Thank goodness for small mercies.

Then Talia turned to Jason. “You have done an admirable job of controlling your Pit Madness,” she smiled sharply, and Jason was reminded of all the deaths he had caused, all the people who had taught him and were murdered by him, using their own tactics, “And you have learnt fast. As promised, you will complete one contracted kill, and you will be released to exact your own revenge.”

Jason gave himself a mental pat on the shoulder, because even in the early days of crazed anger, not once had he given proper clues towards the fact that his killer - the one he wanted to exact his revenge upon - was the Joker himself. “White-faced asshole” could just be a white man, and “fucking green-haired piece of shit” could still just apply to anyone with green hair.

The Robin secret was still safe, surprisingly. Code Bat was still safe.

The assassin base was in the middle of nowhere, but there was still a little town nearby, with enough reception to surf the internet on a phone he had nicked from a particularly rich-looking traveller.

Talia did not control what he knew, the League did not control what he knew, so even while he learnt of the Joker still being alive, he also learnt about the helicopter crash, how Batman had purposefully fled empty-handed. Truthfully, he still wanted the Joker dead - but he recognised that there was a chance that no matter how many times they tried, the bastard would come back. He would rather not try than to get stuck in a never-ending loop, something that B- that Bruce must have realised.

There were other stories he found. Jason could not deny destroying several rooms in the base when he read the kid’s story. All the money in the world, and his very-much-alive parents could care less than Jason’s own barely-there mother had.

He had not known if the boy had taken up the mantle after him, but he was unsurprised at the confirmation in front of him. Robin was as much a part of the Wayne family as champagne, fancy suits and camera smiles.

“The boy is young, and already he is excelling in combat, research, and investigation. In a few years, he will be a real threat to the League. This is your final assignment. Kill the boy, and we will let you go.”

Well, fuck.

Jason carefully controlled his reaction, turning to meet Talia’s eye with his blue-green eyes. “You want me to kill a minor,” Jason spoke slowly, allowing his incredulity and a tinge of anger to slip into his voice.

“Either you take the job, or you will continue training, until another opportunity arises,” Talia replied evenly. Which meant anything from a week later to never.

Jason gritted his teeth, sucked in a deep breath, and pushed it all out at once. “When are we leaving?” he questioned. Talia’s grin was sharp, like a predator before their strike.

Double shit. This just got way more complicated.

Jason had bargained with Talia for a week of preparation work - a week to scout out the Titans tower, as if he had not memorised the layout of the old one. As if they had not built the new tower in the exact way as the old one had been.

“We will have League members surrounding the building,” Talia announced, a day after they had landed in the city. Jason raised an eyebrow at her.

“We are curious as to who has trained this boy,” Talia explained, “Subdue the boy’s teammates, and make him vulnerable. Don’t block radio transmissions. If the boy has maintained contact with his mentor, they would come running at their call.”

Jason cursed inwardly, keeping his face carefully blank as he nodded his assent.

He had to play this right.

“I don’t trust this,” Bruce rumbled for the fourth time, in full Batman mode despite being in a casual sweater and sweatpants.

Dick hummed along, casting a concerned glance Tim’s way.

On the table was a note, delivered through an unassuming envelope.

It stated a date and specific hour, and, Don’t call the Code.

“The code,” Tim mumbled, “Like, Code Bat? There’s no way they’d know that, though, right?”

The note was written on red paper, flecked with green and yellow. Tim’s tone was wavering, lacking its usual confidence. He was always so sure when it came to cases, but this?

“What’s happening at this time?” Dick wondered. Bruce pulled up his own schedule for the following week, and Tim mentally went through his own plans. Nothing of note, but-

“I’ll be in Titans tower,” Tim stated aloud, and there were gears turning in his brain. Wild gears that were nearly off their hinges, but they were the same gears that had made the Batman-is-Bruce-Wayne connection, and he had learnt to trust them.

“Is someone trying to warn us?” Tim voiced, “I get a lot of speculation from the public, about what my official superhero name is, but also where I came from, who I trained with. What if it’s not just the internet wondering?”

Bruce pursed his lips in thought. He turned to Tim, his eyes hard and determined in that certain manner that meant he was being overprotective.

“No,” Tim blurted, “I’m not staying at the Manor during that specific timeframe.” Bruce shut his mouth and blinked down at his adopted son.

“Whoever this is, they risk being found out if I don’t show up,” Tim gestured to the note, “It might just escalate from there, anyway, if we prolong whatever is supposed to happen.”

“It could be a trap,” Dick pointed out, and now he too had taken up the overprotective undertones of discomfort. Tim squared his shoulders and smiled reassuringly. “I’ll be fine,” he promised, “I’ll stay in the tower. Besides, all my teammates will be there. If anything happens, they’re right there.”

Bruce and Dick exchanged worried glances, but eventually Bruce sighed and clasped a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Code Bat has always been for your safety,” Bruce stated firmly, “I don’t care if our enemies find out about us - if it gets out of hand, if it looks like a trap, call us.”

The morning of the date stated on the note, Tim found another one in his Teen Titans bedroom.

They want you dead. Play along.

What jolted Tim was the symbol at the bottom right corner of the note - it was one of the made-up symbols that Dick had taught him. The symbol on the note meant “burn after reading”.

The handwriting was not Dick’s, nor was it Bruce’s. It was cursive, almost like Alfred’s, but it was also much more scrawled and uneven, like someone still unpractised in writing.

The gears in Tim’s brain must have really come unhinged this time, because the only name it could conjure was Jason. Jason was dead.

Tim was quietly uptight right until the hour came. He almost did not realise his teammates were being picked off, meticulously, skillfully, one by one. Almost.

Tim still had yet to press his emergency beacon. He had not activated Code Bat. He wanted to see where this went, before anything else.

Then the mysterious attacker descended on him, a blur of black and the smallest glimpse of white, and Tim was fighting for his life.

The man moved like an assassin - Tim had met some League of Assassins members, back when he had trained with Lady Shiva. He moved like them, but there was also something else to his movements.

Tim dodged a hit, and that was too short to be aiming for his throat, that would have been a non-lethal hit-

The man was not aiming to kill. He fought like Batman. He fought like one of them.

Tim opened his mouth, made to say something, although he was unsure what. He was swept off his feet before he got the chance.

“Who trained you, kid?” the voice growled, and it was a deep voice that should have unnerved him, but something struck him as familiar. The drawl, the barely-there accent.

Jason, his brain screamed.

Real answers, please, Tim pleaded.

The man pulled him by his tunic collar, and he shifted to pull him towards his face. There was a glint of metal on the man’s uniform - a recording device.

“Who are you?” he growled again, with Tim pulled close.

Tim got a good look at the man’s face, and while he instinctively bantered back, he was internally reeling. Looks like his gears were working, after all.

“Just a kid with a dream,” Tim smirked, a crooked smile already leaking some blood.

Jason - because this man was Jason, somehow, how was Jason alive - interrogated Tim while punching him out. His blows hurt for sure, but Tim swore that he was aiming for the areas that would cause the least injuries. He swore that when he grunted as a rib was broken, Jason had paused minutely, cringing slightly, before he barreled on.

Something was placed on his chest.

“Say goodnight, kid,” Jason sing-songed, and there was the sound of a gun cocking. Tim barely registered that when the gun shot, it had shot at him. There was the hard thump of something near his chest, just above his chest, but it had barely touched his tunic.

Jason tapped a finger-signal, a “stay low and don’t move”, and Tim remained where he was. He waited as footsteps receded, waited for several minutes, with a bag of fake blood leaking from his chest, bruises and other injuries blooming in pain underneath his uniform.

He felt rather than heard the presence appear beside him. The looming figure crouched down and gingerly maneuvered Tim into a firm grasp.

His “assassin” stared down at him. He had switched out his black assassin get-up for casual clothing. He was… tall. Built like Bruce. His eyes were different, too, and he had a white lock of hair curling just above his eyebrows. Yet…

“Jason?” Tim croaked out, and Jason Todd smirked. Tim knew that smirk - Robin wore it a lot, when he watched him. “You better be damn glad no one can hear you, anymore,” Jason gruffed, and started moving with Tim in his grasp, “Let’s go somewhere else, though, for good measure.”

They ended up in Tim’s room - sound-proofed, and therefore the safest location in the tower for this conversation.

“You’re alive,” Tim blurted out, as Jason dressed his wounds. His hands stuttered before resuming their work. “I died,” Jason stated flatly, “And I dug myself out of my own grave. Talia found me, and threw me into a Lazarus Pit.”

Jason raised his eyes to meet Tim’s, and Tim could see the eerie green glow in his eyes.

“Don’t tell Bruce about me,” Jason rushed out, and Tim immediately jumped to object, but Jason was faster, “Don’t. Listen, I-” Jason breathed deeply, “I’ve killed, alright? I’ve broken his big rule and all that jazz. I might still find myself going back to the streets of Gotham, but to the Manor? I’m not ready to face that shit.”

Jason paused for real this time, having finished taking care of Tim’s more visible injuries. He cringed.

“You should get Alfie to check you out, just in case you have internal bleeding or whatever the fuck I gave you,” Jason waved his hand around uselessly, “Lie low for a few days, alright? I need to make myself scarce. They’ll find out I didn’t follow through with the deal, and I’ll need to have disappeared, by then.”

Tim was silent for a few long moments. “Will I see you again?” Tim finally asked, his eyes wide and hopeful, “They miss you, you know? We miss you. We all do.”

Jason swallowed, and blinked back the water gathering in his eyes. “How can you miss me?” he chose to ask, “S’not like you knew me very well, before… well, before.”

Tim grinned, bright and eager.

“You once snuck out for patrol on your own,” Tim informed him, “And got stuck on a rooftop that you flipped onto with your grappling hook, because the other buildings around you were all too far away to grapple towards. You had to slide down the water pipes and run across an empty street to make your way back home.”

Jason sputtered, because that had happened, he did remember that, but when the heck did he hear about it?

“How the hell do you know that?” Jason asked, unable to keep his dismay from leaking into his voice.

“I’ll tell you when I next see you,” Tim smiled cheekily. Smartass.

Jason checked the time. “Your Superboy buddy will be waking up soon,” Jason reported, “Don’t come looking for me, alright? I’ll… I’ll return to Gotham soon. I just have to make sure the League’s off my back.”

Jason got up and hesitated. “When I return to Gotham,” he warned, “I’ll come in guns blazing. There’ll be deaths. It won’t be pretty. Just- just stay out of my way.”

It would have been more convincing, if Jason had not spent the last thirty minutes treating Tim’s wounds.

“Who are you?” Tim called abruptly, Jason hovering at the door, “You come in and take us all out, one by one. They’d want a name. Who are you?”

Jason smirked sharply.

“Red Hood,” he droned, “Call me Red Hood.”

He slinked away, and like a true Bat, was out of the tower in seconds.

#Jason Todd #Tim Drake #bruce wayne #dick grayson #talia al ghul #fanfic #BatFam #straight from the trash doc #I seriously hyperfixated on this series for three months and haven't wrote anything since

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river-bottom-nightmare · 3 years

Text

Conner Kent Week 2021, Day Two: Rarepair

Jason knew jokes about how pale Tim was, about how he was either a vampire or the perfect blue blood, about how he needed to get out and absorb some sun for God’s sake. They were met with glares, scathing retorts, smacks with a bo staff, and on one memorable occasion, a horrified Bruce as Tim barged into the house with visible sunburn all along his arms, shoulder and face. (Bruce hadn’t taken Tim’s accusation of But Jason told me to go get some sun! very well.)

Jason wasn’t joking now. Loosely covered in a hospital gown, Tim’s still body seemed to be more devoid of colour than any of the sheets, machines, and tubes surrounding him and attached to his body, keeping him alive in the most impersonal of ways.

It was quiet, the sort of quiet that muffled any attempted noise with a soft hush, an invisible reprimand at showing signs of life in a place where there should be none. The beeping of the various machines didn’t register, the hum of the fluorescent lights was ignorable. Even the rhythmic tapping of Jason’s foot on the linoleum, a nervous habit he’d never been able to break, was utterly silent.

It was quiet. At least until Conner Kent barged into the room, his heavy combat boots thudding on the ground and his breath coming out in pants, the terrified look on his face telling Jason that he thought he hadn’t gotten here fast enough.

“He’s fine,” Jason managed not to cough while speaking, the roughness of his throat a physical ache that was just now flaring up. “Full recovery, they said.”

“Good, good, that’s...” Conner dropped into the remaining hospital chair, right next to Jason. “That’s good.”

Silence blanketed them once again. Jason hadn’t ever been in a regular hospital room. He had supposedly spent a while as a patient in one when he’d risen from the dead and trembled around Gotham like a 21st century zombie, but he couldn’t remember any of it. He didn’t think Tim’s best friend had ever been in one either, given a good majority of Tim’s team was invulnerable or had advanced healing in some way.

Jason was sure Bruce was itching to take Tim to the cave’s medbay, and honestly, Jason found himself on Bruce’s side in this. As much as he liked to distrust the entire Bat clan, he knew they’d give everything they had to make sure Tim was okay, while the hospital was only giving Tim their best care because of the “Wayne” tacked onto the end of his name. Jason had been about to demand Bruce bring him back to the cave no matter what, but Oracle butted in, telling him that Tim been shot as Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne in broad daylight. Bruce couldn’t take Tim home, not without raising some very complicated questions.

So that led them here. Jason being slammed full-force in the face with how much he’d let himself care about the tiny little toothpick, unable to make himself move for fear that Tim would slip away in the one moment he was gone. (Once he’d come back to life and seen how chummy Dick was with Bruce all of a sudden, he’d always expected Dick to drag him back kicking and screaming. He never thought Tim’s unobtrusive yet steady presence, doing his tech work in exchange for food, would lead to the word brother coming to his lips as easy as a breath.)

Next to him, Conner shuffled, and snapped Jason out of his thoughts. “I thought Nightwing would be here.” A statement, subtly posed as a question.

But, still one Jason had an answer to. “Deep cover. A mission he’d been planning for weeks. He doesn’t know.” And he would probably throw a fit about it too, when he came back. Even Jason had to wince a bit at the horrible sense of déjà vu Dick would end up feeling.

“So they sent you instead,” Conner said, and his tone was simple, but Jason found himself getting heated anyway.

“What, you thought the fill-in for Big Bird would be a little better?”

Jason was just burning for a fight, the helplessness he felt at being able to do nothing but sit in a low-quality plastic chair skating up his body and down his arms, forcing his fingers to curl in a fist. He expected the other boy to rise to the bait, having heard Tim’s complaints on how hot-headed Superboy was.

But something about their current situation caused Conner to just turn and glare at him flatly instead. “You once put him a hospital bed, too. Don’t act like you care about him now when you would’ve celebrated this a couple years ago.” His tone was dismissive, and that dug under Jason’s skin much more than he expected.

“Well then, it’s a good thing time travel’s reserved for the speedsters, huh? ‘Cause lucky for you, I’m not the same guy I was a couple years ago,” Jason replied scathingly. The next words were ripped from Jason’s throat, and he could almost see the blood splattered on them. “That’s my brother in the shitty hospital bed right there.”

“Yeah? And how long have you even cared about that ‘brother’ of yours?” There it was. Jason could see red trickling into Conner’s cheeks as he let Jason’s words get to him, and found himself oddly curious about that flush.

Still. Argument to win. “Long enough to know him,” Jason shot back. “Long enough to help piece him together after he almost broke. Where were you during that time? Fucking around with your friends or dead?”

“Trying to hold together the team that Tim helped build,” Conner shifted a bit to face Jason more directly head on. “All you’ve done is tear people apart. News flash: having a sort-of truce with Tim doesn’t automatically mean your family loves you again.”

That one hurt. Years of training to keep his emotions hidden was the only thing that kept him from flinching back visibly, but Jason still felt like he’d been slapped. Because the boy was right; just because Tim liked dropping by one of his safehouses every other week doesn’t mean the rest of the family was anywhere near comfortable with him, not after all the pain he’d caused them. And he couldn’t even fault Conner on it, because it wasn’t like he was wrong and it wasn’t like it wasn’t Jason’s own damn fault.

Still. He couldn’t just let that slide. “At least my family loved me to begin with. What do you have? Megalomaniac scientists who built you from an evil billionaire who thinks of you as an experiment at best and supposedly one of the best men on Earth who still thinks you’re not worth his time.”

Too late, Jason realized his insult came out a little too scathing. Conner’s eyes widened, and Jason saw him blink back pinpricks of tears...fuck. He didn’t know when mutual antagonizing had turned into a caustic competition, but he was pretty sure Tim wouldn’t be very happy with the two of them biting each other’s heads off. And Jason was the one that goaded Conner into this to begin with, to let some of his own helpless anger loose. Conner just wanted to make sure his friend was alright.

So, slightly reluctantly, Jason said, “Sorry. That was a bit too far.”

Conner shot him a grimace. “S’okay. You’re keyed up ‘cause of Tim. I get it. You’re still a jackass, though.” After saying his bit, the other boy turned away, taking up another vigil by Tim’s bedside.

...What the hell. It wasn’t like Jason had lied, anyway. If there was one person that had worse daddy issues than Jason did, it was this poor son of a bitch. Back when he was first catching glimpses of updates on what happened in the larger superhero world while he was letting green overtake his mind, he’d marveled a bit at Superboy, and the way the Justice League seemed to speak about it. How bad do you have to be to be Superman’s own son, (sorta), and still have him hold you at arms length. But after Tim’s stories, and after meeting him now, Jason was pretty sure Superman was in the wrong.

You really couldn’t trust anyone, could you?

“Nah. You’re right,” Jason said. “God knows none of the Bats want anything to do with me, so this stupid sort-of truce with this stupid brother’s all I got.”

Conner glanced over at him, surprised. Jason couldn’t blame him, he was a little taken aback at how easily the confession had spilled out of him too. They both knew how closed off people in their line of work were, but Conner seemed to take Jason’s words as an olive branch.

“You were right too. Found out the fun way that parents aren’t worth shit. So the team’s all I got, and Tim’s a big part of that.”

“The kid fucking hates you,” Jason said, putting some good-natured humor into his words to let Conner know he wasn’t entirely serious. “Loves you to death, but complains about you to me all the time.”

Conner snorted. “Look who’s talking. Every week at Titans Tower, it’s all ‘Jason won’t stop scaring off all my informants’ and ‘Jason spit on my copy of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.’”

“You can’t blame me for that last one, aight?”

“No, I agree with you,” Conner said. “That movie was terrible. I don’t know why Tim likes it.”

“Because he’s a goddamn loser,” Jason said. He couldn’t say he was expecting Conner to know who he was, much less from stories Tim had told him. But it felt...good, in a way. Nice to be recognized by his media tastes instead of his bone-chilling reputation. Nice to know that the guy Tim wouldn’t shut up about to him knew who he was.

Silence fell in between them again, but it was comfortable, mutually acknowledged and let rest. Jason didn’t break it when Conner stood up, brushed a kiss to Tim’s hair, and left the hospital much quieter than he came. Jason didn’t break it when he made to leave either, squeezing Tim’s hand and mentally willing him to heal faster. Jason didn’t break it all the way home.

The next day found Jason in a similar position. The positive side of being a mob boss: he didn’t have much in the way of a day job. He didn’t know why cramming himself into an uncomfortable position to stare, with a tight throat, at a kid in a medically induced coma was what he decided to do with his day.

Maybe because the kid had grown on him, latched onto his heart like a leech and didn’t let go until Jason could ruffle his hair and think of him as a little brother without physically throwing up.

And maybe because he wanted to see Conner again. He didn’t know why, but their brief talk yesterday had loosened something inside his chest. He was used mulling over his regrets, used to Bruce condemning him and giving up on him as a lost cause, used to Dick trying to brush everything aside and form a bond with him again. He wasn’t used to someone staring his sins in the face, then shrugging and forgiving him.

Forgiveness was much lighter and much less guilt-ridden than Jason expected, and he wanted more of it. From the way Conner had sunk into the same line of thinking as Jason, he wanted more of it too.

Conner didn’t disappoint him, but Jason wasn’t sure when he’d gotten his hopes up high enough to be disappointed in the first place. Calmer, now that he knew Tim was doing better, Conner leaned against the doorframe of hospital room, staring at their resident comatose with a little frown on his lips.

Jason took the time to study him. A black leather jacket stretched across his shoulders, a little more showy than the practical brown one draped across the back of the chair Jason was sitting on. He supposed it fitted in with Superboy’s theme, because anyone who wore that pinwheel-bright costume with the fucking thigh holster Jason saw pictures of online was more than a little showy. There wasn’t much proof of in his simple t-shirt and jeans, though, and Jason almost would’ve been disappointed if it weren’t for the earring hanging from his left earlobe and the tall black boots with glinting metal lace hooks that stretched up their length. Jason bet he owned the exact pair of fingerless gloves that were wrapped around Conner’s wrists right now.

In all of Tim’s vivid descriptions of the guy, Jason never realized how much he had in common with the guy, at least cosmetically.

“How’s he doing?” Conner asked, and jolted Jason out of his reverie. He didn’t make any indication he caught Jason looking, but Jason eyed him in slight embarrassment just in case.

Realizing that Conner was actually waiting for an answer, Jason cleared his throat and leaned forward a bit from his relaxed sprawl. “They say they’ll bring him out of it tomorrow, then a week here before he can go home. That is, if he doesn’t wake up on his own. The doctors say they’re astounded at how fast he’s recovering.”

Conner snorted, then stepped fully into the room. “Can you build up an immunity to injury? Or, like, have your body develop a mini healing factor or something? Just based on the kind of shit we’ve gone through over the years?”

Jason didn’t miss the way Conner put feather’s touch more emphasis on “we,” or the way his eyes flicked over to Jason. “At this point, I’m sure it’s the only way we’ve stayed alive so long.”

“No you didn’t,” Conner chuckled.

Jason’s head whipped up, staring at the other boy with disbelief threading through his mind. It had taken months for Dick to start making death jokes, and even then, he hesitated a bit, as if making sure Jason was okay with it. But after one meeting, Conner just steamrolled ahead, every bit as confident as he appeared to be. Jason found himself laughing too, with genuine amusement albeit a little punched out.

Crossing the room to seat himself in the remaining plastic chair, Conner sunk down with a sigh. “I just want him to wake up already.”

“Yeah, well. Who doesn’t?” Jason said, feeling unreasonably a little disappointed. Of course Conner wanted to talk about Tim, that was the whole reason he’d come to the hospital in the first place. He’d only known Jason for an hour, and a large part of that was spent trading insults back and forth. Of course he didn’t want to talk about how Jason was doing.

“So,” Conner said, turning away from the hospital bed. “How are you doing?”

Or maybe he did. Jason didn’t know what to call the little bubble of satisfaction that flew up his throat and popped in his mouth. “Not bad. Life as a mob boss is kinda boring, whaddya know. You?”

“Playing den mother for a bunch of hypercompetent yet cluelessly stupid baby superheroes is not how I imagined my life going.”

“Playing den mother?”

Conner wrinkled his nose, in a motion that was in no way cute, honestly kind of gross and flat. Jason found himself staring nonetheless. “Bart used to call me Team Mom back when we founded the team, and it caught on. Now, Cassie leads, but since even she says it, everyone fucking says it. They ask me for granola bars and money to buy movie tickets.”

“And?”

Conner sighed. “I give them granola bars and money to buy movie tickets.”

“There you go,” Jason said, his voice dripping with smug amusement.

“I swear I’m not usually this lame,” Conner pleaded, and his half-smile was aimed straight towards Jason.

“No, no, I believe you. Tim’s told me stories,” Jason said. “Didn’t you once throw some guy into a police car so hard, the car dented and they had to call in a helicopter so the guy didn’t die on the way to the hospital?”

Conner flushed, and Jason found it just as entrancing as last time. “He tried to touch Cassie,” he explained. “And she can take care of herself more than well, I know. I just got a bit...overprotective.”

Jason just laughed. “Don’t worry. I thought it was badass.”

“Really?” Conner’s lips twisted into a sour smile. “Because the League thought it was proof of my, fuck, what was it? Violent, destructive tendencies mirrored on a smaller scale of the schemes of Lex Luthor. Something along those lines.”

Shaking his head with desideration, Jason scoffed. “Sounds about accurate. Besides, you don’t wanna know what the League thinks of me.”

“What?”

“Aside from, like, Joker and Two-Face and Mad Hatter and shit, Red Hood is one one of Batman’s most powerful and dangerous rogues, and must be stopped at all costs.”

Conner was laughing before Jason even finished talking. “I love that for you,” he said. “You’re just so powerful and dangerous. I’m quaking in my boots.”

Jason shoved him lightly, and felt Conner give way on purpose, ignoring how natural and easy the motion felt. “Whatever you say, Luthor Lite.”

“Well, guess I found my new superhero name,” Conner said, finger held up to his chin in mock-thought as if musing something extremely important.

“It’s perfect,” Jason said. “And here we have Conner Kent, ordinary punk-rock farmer. But he’s hiding a secret! When his ‘violent and destructive tendencies’ come out, he turns into...Luthor Lite!”

The two of them collapsed into muffled laughter, Jason stifling his noise by biting his lip and Conner putting his head in the crook of his arm to hide his red face. Pity, Jason liked that flush.

Straightening up with a sigh, Conner offered Jason a little grin. Crimson was still creeping along his cheekbones and the edge of his jaw, and Jason was suddenly struck by the urge to trace it.

“Kon,” Conner said.

“What?”

“Call me Kon,” Conner said. “Everyone does.”

“Kon, huh? With a K, right?” Jason asked, then nodded thoughtfully when Conner made a noise of affirmation. “Is it Kryptonian or something?”

A rueful expression stole it’s way onto Conner’s face, mischievous lips and daring eyes staring at Jason as if challenging him. “Yeah. Kon-el. Kryptonian for ‘abomination’. It’s what they thought of clones.”

A pause. Then, “Wow.” Jason bust out laughing for the second time. “That’s metal as fuck. Good for you, Kon.”

“Says the guy who took the name of the person who killed him, then twisted it into something so horrifying that now, no one else associates it with anything other than you.”

“Is that judgement I hear?”

“Respect,” Kon said, and his smile was oddly shy, the first time he’d shown that emotion since he’d met Jason. Jason liked the way it looked on him; it suited him oddly well.

They were quiet for a minute, grinning at each other like buffoons, but Jason couldn’t find the heart to stop. Eventually, Kon stood up and rolled out his shoulders to stretch. “I gotta get going. I’m meeting Bart and Cassie, updating them about Tim.”

“They’re waking Tim up in the afternoon,” Jason said. “Bruce is gonna be here, plus Steph. So I’d stay clear.”

“Gotcha, thanks. I’ll come in the morning.”

A proposition, if Jason ever saw one, and there was no way he could have refused. “I’ll be here,” he said, and kept his eyes on Kon until he rounded a corner, away from sight.

Kon was already there when Jason came to visit Tim the next day, and he gave him a friendly, if a tad flirtatious, smile. Jason responded, accidentally putting too much emotion into the greeting than he would have liked, but it made Kon brighten, so Jason didn’t feel too bad.

Dropping heavily into what had become “his” chair, Jason shrugged off his jacket. He gave himself a mental high-five when he noticed Kon staring at his shoulders, but made no motion to address it.

“If all goes to plan, he’ll be the same annoying little prep boy that’s always annoying the hell out of me by tonight,” Jason said.

“He’ll be fine,” Kon said, and his voice was quiet, but there was an undercurrent of confidence curling around his words. He sounded like he had utter faith in Tim. Jason wished some of that would bleed over.

“He’s a tough little shit,” Jason said, then repeated Kon’s words. “He’ll be fine.”

“How ‘bout you?”

“Hm?” Jason raised an inquiring brow. “Oh, I’m all good It’s not me that’s hurt.”

“Jason,” Kon snorted. “If I have learned anything over the past two days, it is the fact that you are most definitely not ‘all good.’”

“Yeah well,” Jason said. “You’re one to talk.”

Kon made a noncommittal noise, and shrugged as if to say what can you do? “We’ve all got issues. But I get the feeling that you’re not as closed off and angry as you let people believe. Or maybe you are, but you don’t want to.”

Jason bit back the first response that came into his mind, telling Kon that no, he was closed off and angry, just not with him. But that wasn’t the truth, and he definitely didn’t have the courage to say it out loud. So instead, he said, “Maybe. Not gonna lie, from the way Tim and everyone talks about you, I was expecting more...”

“Cocky little frat boy?” Kon asked, smirking.

“More or less.”

Kon sighed, then looked down to where his hands were fiddling with each other. “Superman doesn’t act like a cocky little frat boy. Neither does Lex Luthor.”

“You’re not either of them,” Jason said, realization pouring into his mind like spilled oil. “You’re not either of them, but no one else seems to get that, so you make it as obvious as possible.”

“A couple people got that eventually,” Conner said, looking up at Tim with a soft smile. “Not many, though. And none as quickly as you.”

Kon leaned back, level with Jason now, turned to face him, something on his face that Jason couldn’t read. The chairs seemed much closer than Jason could remember, but he wasn’t very much banking on his memory right now.

“Yeah, well,” Jason said, feeling a little lame. “What can I say. Misery likes company, and companies read each other through water.”

“Never heard that one before.”

“I came up with it,” Jason said.

“I like it,” Kon smiled, then leaned forward with an ease Jason had been determined to build up first.

A little peeved at Kon beating him to it, Jason closed the distance first, the kiss probably a little too rough. But given the way they’d met, Jason felt like the bite he gave Kon was justified, even if the other boy was invulnerable.

Jason had made plenty of bad decisions in his life, and he knew exactly what they felt like. This wasn’t one of them. There was no chance that the way Kon’s hands coming up to cup Jason’s face, dragging his nail down Jason’s jaw, was anything other than good. No chance the way Kon’s soft hair suddenly threaded through his fingers was anything other than soft, no chance the soft noise Kon made in the back of his throat was anything other than delightful.

Yeah, Jason knew bad decisions. And despite the avalanche of bad decisions that seemed to make up every inch of Jason, from his scarred hands to his chipped nails, despite the pile-up of thoughtless ideas that led to this boy being made, despite how intimately familiar Jason was with regrets, he was certain Conner Kent wasn’t one of them.

------------

this was almost 4k what the fuck

also. please imagine tim waking up to see his best friend and older brother aggressively making out in the plastic hospital chairs next to him.

anway, suddenly i have a new ship.

imma post this on ao3 later, it got a bit long

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @screennamealreadyused @subtleappreciation @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @bonkybearjpeg @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 3 years

Text

Still a Little Bit Yours (Part 1) - fic

Characters: Jon Kent, Damian Wayne, bit of Tim Drake and Maya Ducard Pairing: jondami Summary: Damian broke up with him, out of the blue. It didn’t make any sense. But, as it turns out, there’s a reason why it didn’t. A/N: Damian and Jon are in their mid-twenties and no longer go by Robin or Superboy (but not really Batman or Superman either, Tim’s last line is kind of a joke.) Title, and maybe vibe of this part, is based on ‘A Little Bit Yours’ by JP Saxe.

Part One | Part Two

The phone almost slipped from his fingers.

Damian…did Damian just say what he thought he said?

“…What?” He whispered near breathlessly. “W-what did you just say?”

“I said I think we should see other people.” Damian replied calmly. “It would be for the betterment of both of us.”

“Since when?” Jon snapped, anger flaring immediately, but instantly morphing into confusion and sadness. His heart breaking by the second.

They’d been together for three years. Secretly pined after each other for the two years prior to that. Had recently talked about moving in together. Had been happy.

Jon was so, so sure they’d been happy.

“Since…recently.” Damian hummed blankly. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

“And the thought of doing this in person didn’t occur to you in your fucking contemplation?” Jon snapped. “Christ, Damian, we were just talking about getting an apartment!”

“I’m sorry if I hurt you. I know this isn’t what you want.” There was a hint of regret in Damian’s voice, but not enough for Jon’s liking, so it only fueled his growing anger further. “I…I don’t know what else to say.”

“Oh, really? Three fucking years and this is all you have to say?” Jon hissed. “I know you’re emotionally constipated, Damian, but…god. This is low. Even for you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not!” Jon shouted. A store clerk nearby glanced at him. And that was right, he was in the grocery store. He’d…forgotten. Forgotten the whole world existed, forgot it was collapsing around him by the second, as Damian hummed those words. “Because if you were sorry, you wouldn’t have fucking done it this way in the first place!”

He heard a mother a few aisles down murmur to her children to not use language like that. That people who talked like that were pathetic.

“I…I don’t know what your game here is, Damian.” He whispered harshly.

“It’s not a game.” Damian promised. “I respect you too much to play games with you. I’m just trying to be honest.”

“But you don’t love me enough to break up with me in person, apparently.” Jon countered. He closed his eyes, wouldn’t allow the tears to fall. “I…Damian, I’m going to hang up on you right now. I…I don’t want to say something I might regret.”

“That’s fine.” Damian promised. Then again: “I’m sorry, Beloved.”

Jon scoffed and pulled the phone away from his ear. He hit the call end button so hard the screen cracked under his touch.

…Great.

He stood there a moment, trying to take deep, even breaths. But it wasn’t working real well. Each breath was trembling, and it’s like his lungs suddenly didn’t work, couldn’t hold any air.

Did he do something wrong? Did he say something? They’d fought before, all couples do. They were getting better at communication, Damian was coming out of that emotional shell the League of Assassins put him in.

They’d kissed yesterday. Jon had held him in his arms, had kissed his nose and told him how beautiful his smile was. Damian had laughed and held Jon’s face, stroking his thumb along his cheek.

And now…now they were here?

“…Honey?” Jon jumped as a hand gently touched his elbow. He spun to find an old woman in an apron matching the store’s color scheme glancing up at him. “Are you okay?”

The world around him came whooshing back. He was in the middle of the grocery store. He…he was sobbing in the middle of the grocery store. Fat, ugly tears rolling down his face as he practically crushed his phone in his hand.

“Do you need me to call someone?” The woman whispered.

“No, I…” He gently placed his shopping basket – half full of this week’s groceries – on the floor and backed away. He clumsily ran his nose along his sleeve, a trail of snot left in his wake. “I’m alright. I’m…I’m sorry.”

He turned and barely stopped himself from flying out of the store.

Jon laid in bed for two days, exhausting himself racking his brain, trying to figure out what happened, what changed, what he did.

He texted Damian, almost exactly twenty-four hours after the fateful call, but the other never answered. Never answered any text Jon sent. Or any call that he drunkenly made after that. Didn’t even give him the knowledge of being left on read.

He cried a few times, threw things a few other times.

None of this made any sense.

He thought about going over to Gotham. Walking up to the manor and banging on the door until someone answered. Thought about staging a protest until Damian agreed to see him, if the door answerer wasn’t said boyfriend.

…Ex-boyfriend.

Tears welled up in his eyes every time he thought of the term.

Ex. Boyfriend.

Jon closed his eyes, buried his face in his pillow. Honestly, he thought they were going to get married. He thought they were going to be together forever. He wasn’t ready to plan a life without Damian, not yet. They were supposed to grow old together, die minutes apart like in the movies. Holding hands until the end.

He didn’t lose Damian to death, like he always thought he would. He didn’t lose Damian to space or assassins or even to grief in the potential loss of Bruce or Dick. He lost Damian because Damian…simply didn’t want him anymore.

God. They weren’t supposed to break up after three years. They weren’t supposed to part ways in their twenties. They weren’t supposed to end things for no reason.

He thought he’d gotten pretty good at reading Damian. His ticks, his quirks. What upset him, what didn’t. He thought he was an expert. The world’s leading expert in Damian Wayne.

Apparently he was fooling himself.

He sighed, pressed his face further into the fabric of his pillow. Tried to ignore the memories threatening to overflow. Of he and Damian in this bed. Kissing, cuddling, lazing. Of Jon promising Damian the whole world, and Damian countering with the whole universe instead.

He wondered if he should call Kathy. Or Maya. Hell, one of Damian’s siblings. See if Damian had talked to them, if they had seen any signs. If they knew of anything going on.

He just burrowed under his covers, and kept his eyes closed.

In the end, he didn’t tell anyone about the breakup. Not even his parents. There were intergalactic wars starting and government coups commencing – they had more important things to worry about than their youngest’s love life. And judging by the fact he hadn’t heard from any of the Bats, he had a feeling Damian didn’t mention it to his family either.

Just as well. They were adults. They could handle this as just that. Adults.

So he wallowed in self-pity for a few days, but eventually forced himself up. Took a deep breath, dried his own eyes and distracted himself with continuing his life. Focused on his job, on heroing. The world kept turning, even if he and Damian weren’t together.

His heart hurt less as the days passed on. Not by much, his heart was still utterly shattered after all, but it didn’t hurt as much to inhale. Didn’t hurt as much to smile. Didn’t hurt as much to get a text or a call and it not be Damian.

Damian never answered when Jon tried to contact him. The first few days were understandable, but now the texts were housekeeping. Do you want your shirt back? I think you left Alfred’s cat treats here. I have a box of your stuff and your apartment key, if you’re in town soon, you can stop by and get it.

And still, like always, nothing. Damian was always stubborn, but now he was just being downright rude. It’d been almost a month now! Surely if someone as emotional as Jon could somewhat start to get over it, someone as stoic as Damian had probably completely forgotten about it by now!

He huffed as he watched a couple walk by the park bench he was sitting on, taking the momentary surge of frustration-induced courage to hit the call button on his (recently fixed) phone and hold it up to his ear.

They wouldn’t have to talk. This was just tying up the loose ends. Getting rid of the sentimental things. Getting rid of things that didn’t belong to him. That was all. That was all.

But the line didn’t even ring. It went straight to voicemail. And the frustration turned to hurt. Did…did Damian change his number? No, impossible. It still went to Damian’s voicemail, his phone was just off.

But Damian never turned his phone off. No hero did, and especially no one in the Wayne family. They were always on call, even when they shouldn’t be.

So, for Damian’s phone to be off…was he avoiding someone? Avoiding Jon?

He lowered his phone to his lap and stared at it. He was one of those people who put emojis in people’s contact names. Damian’s name was surrounded by the pink, growing heart, and the cat emoji that looked like Alfred.

He didn’t have the strength to take those away. Not yet.

He swallowed the lump in his throat that he didn’t realize was there, and put his phone back in his pocket.

He’ll just ship Damian his shit, then.

He shouldn’t have. He really shouldn’t have. It’d make him the crazy ex. The ones Taylor Swift wrote songs about.

But at least once a day, he found himself listening. Tapping into his powers and listening for Damian’s heartbeat.

He didn’t do it often while they were together. Mostly because while together they were almost always together. Physically. So he could just reach out and hold Damian’s wrist. Put his ear to Damian’s chest. Watch the pulse as it beat along Damian’s neck.

It was a coping mechanism back then, used to calm himself. When the world got too much. When his day was bad. He could just focus on Damian’s heartbeat in any form. Drown the rest of the noise out.

Damian’s heartbeat now sounded far away, but Jon didn’t feel like pinpointing how far. It was slow and even, and that almost made him angry. Damian was calm. Damian was relaxed. Probably sitting at his easel drawing without a care in the world, while here Jon was listening for him like some kind of fucking lost puppy.

Every time he listened, it was slow and steady.

Stupid Damian, he’d think as he tuned his powers back out, furiously go back to whatever he was doing. Stupid relationships.

Relationships were overrated. Damian was overrated.

“He what?!”

Maya’s shriek had Jon pulling the phone away from his ear with an amused grimace. He laughed as he switched the audio to be on speaker, and absently opened an app on his phone.

(A…dating app.)

“You didn’t know?” Jon hummed. His friend had called to ask some questions on a man she was tracking, someone who rumours said was from another planet. Kathy hadn’t known of the solar system, so she was trying the next best alien. As they talked, something about a crime scene came up, and she asked if Damian could help, if Jon could give him the phone. He had to break the news. “I thought you guys talked like…every day.”

“No way.” Maya scoffed. “Once a month, if that.” Jon could hear the frown in her voice. “And we did talk about a month ago. Maybe a bit longer. He didn’t say anything. In fact, he told me you guys were going to move in together, that he wanted me to plan a trip back to the States for a housewarming party.”

“Well…life comes at you fast, I guess.” Jon chuckled bitterly, remembering that call. He was in the room for that call, dozing in Damian’s arms, half listening to their conversation. He sneered at the choices the app was giving him. None of them were very attractive. “Because about a month ago was when he called it off.”

“Huh.” Maya mumbled. “I’m so sorry, Jon. If I’d had known that’s what he was planning, I would have beat the shit out of him. You were the best thing to ever happen to him, for gods’ sake! What the hell did he willingly throw it all away for?!”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Jon shrugged. This potential match wore a shirt that said Joker’s Biggest Fan on it, and Jon cringed instantly. “He didn’t give a reason. Just said that it was for the betterment of both of us, and that he was sorry.”

“Fucking turd.” Maya sighed. “I’ll call him here in the next few days, and see if he’ll tell me anything.”

“Good luck.” Jon drawled. “He hasn’t answered a single text or phone call since he broke things off. And I don’t know if that’s to just me or everyone.”

“You ask one of his brothers? Which one’s friends with your brother again? Jason?”

“Tim.” Jon corrected. He hesitated on this potential match option. Just stared. It was a woman. Dark hair, tan skin, standing in a desert. She was beautiful. And she reminded him of Damian. “And I haven’t seen or talked to any of them either. No cases have taken me out to Gotham lately.”

The next match had sharp eyes, ones that said they were smarter than everyone else. Cocky. That was like Damian too.

“Eh, they’d probably cover for him anyway. They’re all a bunch of freaks like that.” She grumbled. “Are you…doing okay?”

“I’m fine.” Jon lied, and he knew Maya heard right through it. “Time heals all wounds and all that. Better every day.”

“Oh, Jon…” Maya sighed sympathetically. Jon didn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed at her pity. Not when the next person on the app was standing on a rooftop, flag tied to his neck, blowing gloriously behind him. Looking far too much like every hero persona Damian’s ever been. “Hey – I’ll be back in the States soon. And I promise, I’ll make my first stop coming to see you so we can get drunk and stuff ourselves with pizza and scream about what an asshole Damian is. Okay?”

The next match was posed in the photo in a fencing match. Damian. The next surrounded by Great Danes. Damian. The next playing a violin. Damian. The next wearing a Batman costume at a Halloween party.

Damian.

Damian. Damian. Damian.

He sighed and closed the app. Stupid.

“Yeah. That sounds like exactly what I need, Maya.”

“Great. It’s a date.” She paused a moment. “Love you, dude.”

Jon hesitated, because he hadn’t said those words since Damian. Hadn’t thought them. Hadn’t wanted to think them, not for anyone. Not for family, not for friends. Not for a single person in his life. Still left in his life.

“Love you too, Maya.”

Jon wasn’t a dreamer. He didn’t know if it was his Kryptonian side, or just how he was, but he didn’t dream often. And if he did, if he remembered them, it was only flashes. Only later moments of déjà vu. Never full sequences. Never lucid.

But…this.

They were in Kansas, out in one of Pa’s fields, lying among the wheat. Damian was flat against the ground as Jon laid over him, kissing him as hard and deeply as he could. They both had their arms around the other, grips tight and unyielding. Like if one of them let go, the whole world would disappear.

He doesn’t know why, but it was a noise Damian made. A quiet moan, and his fingers digging desperately into Jon’s shoulders that snapped him out of it. Made him realize.

This wasn’t real.

He began to lean back, pulled his arms from Damian’s shoulders to steady himself. Damian shifted too, but only to hold Jon’s face, to try and chase his lips.

“No, I…” Jon stuttered, his body wanting to do just that. Dive back in and devour Damian whole. But his mind didn’t let him, forced him to continue back until he was on his knees. “We can’t.”

He got to his feet and backed up a step, half turning away. Couldn’t bear the sight of Damian lying in the dirt, shirt half open and hair disheveled, chest heaving from arousal and exertion. “…Jonathan?”

“You’re not real.” Jon almost whined, running his fingers through his hair.

“Is that so?” Damian scoffed. “Since when?”

“Since I know we haven’t been back to Kansas in like a year.” Jon sighed, turning back. “Since I just remembered you broke up with me.”

“Absurd.” Damian laughed. Jon glared down at him, watched as Damian stood, and wiped the dust from his butt. “I would never do such a thing.”

“Well…you did!” Jon spat. “And over the phone! Not even in person!”

“You’re not listening to me.” Damian scolded. He raised his sharp gaze. “I would never do such a thing.”

“…What?” Jon whispered incredulously. “I just…I just told you that you did! And I…” He snorted, shook his head. “You’re not even real. Why the hell am I even trying to argue with you?”

“Because despite what you tell those around you, you miss me.” Damian sauntered over to him with a smirk, and poked at his temple. “Now I need you to use that big brain of yours and focus on what I’m saying. What it means.”

Jon looked down sadly. Gently reached up to take Damian’s hand in his, and turned so he could kiss his palm, could hide his face against Damian’s hand.

Damian just smiled warmly, stepped closer into Jon’s space. Cupped his other hand around the side of Jon’s throat. “Please just remember.” He begged softly. “I would never do such a thing. Never.” He leaned up on his toes, and pressed their foreheads together. “Not to you, Beloved.”

Jon leaned into the gesture, and parted his lips to kiss Damian again.

But then he woke up.

He woke up in the dead of night, with tears streaming down his face, and the memory of the dream burning against his skull.

I would never do such a thing.

“But you did, Damian.” Jon sobbed, clutching his pillow, curling his knees to his chest. Because it felt like his heart was going to tumble out, all the pieces that it had shattered into were going to come spilling out onto his sheets. “You did.”

He didn’t go back to sleep.

Jon let out a low growl as he stomped out of the café. That was a bust. That was a huge fucking waste of his time.

But that’s what he got for trying to jump back into the dating pool.

The girl seemed nice enough in their limited texting interaction. She was cute and not purposefully looked nothing like Damian. She was bubbly and loud, and also not purposefully acted nothing like Damian either.

(Totally not purposefully. Totally.)

But he’d just spent the last hour listening to her rant about conspiracy theories that were already disproven one hundred times over, and rave about how Lex Luthor was the best and coolest and smartest person to ever exist, because he was rich and going to get them all to Mars. She never stopped to let Jon talk. Never stopped to take a breath for herself either.

Needless to say, there’d be no second date. He’d frankly excused himself with a lie to get out of this one early.

(And she’d already texted him about how great of a time she had, and she couldn’t wait to see him again, despite still sitting in the restaurant ten feet behind him.

Jon didn’t like to ghost people – not like certain ex-boyfriends of his – but this one…he couldn’t wait to.)

So it must have been fate that he chose that moment to leave. Not a few minutes before, or decided to suffer through the rest of his rendezvous. Because as soon as he walked out of the café, he spotted one Tim Drake coming out of the building across the street.

Funnily enough, Tim spotted him at almost the exact same moment. Except instead of waving or smiling like Tim normally would, his face visibly paled and his eyes widened, like Jon was the last person on Earth he wanted to see.

Jon frowned when he saw Tim glance around, like he was looking for an escape route. “Tim!” He called before the other could do just that, glancing up and down the street before jogging quickly towards him. “Hey, wait up!”

Tim took a step backwards, like he was going to try to bolt, but in the end stayed where he was, waited for Jon to reach him. Quickly pulled his phone out and scanned the screen before pocketing it again. “Hey Jon…what, uh. What’s going on? How are you?”

“Oh…been better. But trying to stay positive.” Jon laughed knowingly. Tim didn’t react. “How’s the family?”

“Good. Busy.” Tim shrugged. “Lots of, uh…stuff to do. You know how it is.”

Jon nodded, and the two fell into an awkward silence. Tim pulled his phone out again, but quickly threw it back in his pocket.

“How’s…” And Jon didn’t want to ask, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. Wasn’t desperate to actually know, instead of guessing and assuming. “How’s Damian?”

But to Jon’s the surprise, at the sound of Damian’s name, Tim seemed to practically deflate. He threw his hands across his face, began shaking his head. “God, Jon, I’m so sorry. I know we should have called, or kept you in the loop or something. But we didn’t want you to become a target too or get hurt, or…”

“What?” Jon cut off, gut suddenly dropping. “What are you talking about?”

Tim peeked between his fingers, eyes narrowed. “…What are you talking about?”

“I…I haven’t talked to Damian since he broke up with me.” Jon murmured. Tim’s eyes instantly widened even more in surprise. “I just…wanted to know if he was doing okay?”

“Damian broke up with you?” Tim whispered. “When?”

“Um, I don’t know a month or so ago?” Jon shrugged. “Why? Tim, what’s going on?”

“How did he break up with you?” Tim demanded, suddenly all but lunging at Jon. His eyes darted between Jon’s desperately. “Was it in person?”

“No, it was over the phone.”

“What day?” Tim asked, almost giddy now. “What day did he break up with you, exactly? What day did you get that call?”

“Uh…” Jon pulled out his phone, and went to the call feature. He scanned the list until he found the one he was looking for. The one that ruined his whole life. “The seventh.”

“What time?”

“Like three or four in the afternoon?” Jon huffed. “Tim, why is this relevant? What happened?”

“Have you talked to him since then?” Tim continued, undeterred. “In any way? Text? Call? Carrier pigeon?”

“What? No! I…I tried calling him a few times, to return his stuff and all that, but he never answered.” Tim suddenly backed away from him, running both hands through his hair, like a case was just blown wide open. For the third time, Jon asked: “Tim, what the hell is going on?”

Tim hesitated for a moment, then looked Jon dead in the eyes. “Damian’s been missing for a month.” He said plainly. “He disappeared on the morning of the seventh.”

And just like that day on the phone, it felt like the world was being swallowed into a black hole beneath him. That the universe was disappearing around him, that it wasn’t real.

He could barely breath. “…What?”

“He, Duke and Cass were on a case in France. Without warning all three of them went radio silent. When we got there, we only found Duke and Cass half dead in a vineyard. They said they were attacked by a…a shapeshifter or something, lured them in by transforming into members of the Justice League. That they saw the shapeshifter and their crew dragging Damian away, but they didn’t see where to, or even what direction.”

Jon’s head was spinning.

“We’ve been looking for him day and night ever since. And when you didn’t come looking for him…” Tim winced. “We assumed he’d told you that he would be away on a mission, potentially for a long time. So your absence didn’t concern us. In fact, like I said, we were grateful. We didn’t want you getting wrapped up in this too, and potentially hurt.”

Jon was barely listening anymore, too wrapped up in what he’d just been told. That Damian had been missing since that day. That the reason Damian’s heartbeat sounded so far away was because he was, he was somewhere in Europe. That he wasn’t answering his phone because he was being held captive.

…That it wasn’t Damian on that call.

I would never do such a thing. Never. Not to you.

“…Beloved.” He murmured. Tim instantly stopped in his ramblings.

“…What?” Tim asked.

“On the call, when he broke up with me. First, he never gave a reason, which I thought was crazy. I guess…I guess it makes sense now.” Jon said thoughtfully. “But before we hung up. He said ‘I’m sorry, Beloved.’”

“…So?”

“That’s what Damian had me as in his phone. Not my name.” Jon explained. “Why would he still call me Beloved if he was breaking up with me?”

“…He would have said your name.” Tim said, the truth dawning on him. “The kidnapper wouldn’t know that. They wouldn’t know your name. So they called you what you were listed as.”

“And recognized that I was someone important to him.” Jon finished. “But…why? Why call me just to…break up with me? Why call me at all?”

“I don’t know. We can think about it later.” Tim was instantly back in detective mode, holding out his hand. “Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“Because we can track where that phone call came from.” Tim wiggled his fingers impatiently. With his other hand, he pulled out his own phone, typing furiously with his thumb. Jon realized that’s why he was checking it so much, that’s why he was in Metropolis at all. He was looking for clues for Damian, anywhere he could. “And that might take us to where this bastard took my brother.”

“...Need a ride to the Batcave?” Jon asked with a sheepish smile. “…The sooner we get there, the sooner we can track this fucker and find Damian.”

Tim pursed his lips in thought, clearly not thrilled at the idea of including Jon, not after they all tried so hard to keep him detached, but eventually returned the grin.

“Get us in the air, Superman.”

#jonathan kent #jon kent #Damian Wayne #jondami #Tim Drake

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imagineimaginez · 3 years

Text

Italics=drake

Being a middle school teacher was not an easy job but it's what you loved most. You always were someone who was simple and didn't require much to be happy which is what Aubrey loved most about you. Your best friend was a known instagram model so usually you accompanied her to a lot of parties. One of these parties just so happened to be aubreys birthday party. You and your best friend danced and drank and you got a little tipsy so you decided to get some air. " The party got too lit for you?" you knew the voice all too well I mean who wouldn't. You turned around and saw aubrey standing there smiling. " Nah it was actually so trash i had to come outside to get away from it." he laughed and came to stand next to you. " I know you're lying right now cause I saw you dancing and turning up so don't play with me." You caught butterflies knowing that he was watching you out of all the girls in that room he had his eye on you but you decided to play it cool. " Well I find it weird you were watching me that's creepy." His smile instantly dropped and you started to laugh " i'm just kidding it's actually kind of cute I guess." This led to you and him hanging out the rest of the night and exchanging numbers and before you knew it texts turned into facetimes calls, facetime calls turned into dates, and dates turned into spending the night at each others houses. You guys were inseparable. You both decided it would be best to keep things lowkey one reason being because of your safety and your job. You loved your students and you loved what you did and if word got out about you and aubrey there would be no way you would be able to continue doing that and two being because aubrey was just a private guy all around, and liked the fact nobody else was putting input into your relationship. It was just you two and that was all you two needed. It was a friday night which meant date night for you and aubrey. Since you were a teacher friday's were the best day for date nights so aubrey made it a solid tradition and it was something you looked forward to every week or at least the weeks you could when he wasn't out of town or busy making music.

Babe❤️: Hey babe we’re gonna be doing something a little different tonight. No need to dress up or anything. You can keep it chill unless you wanna throw on some sexy shit underneath than that’s fine with me 😉

You : ok cool , and hmm i'll think about it 😅

Babe❤️: lol ii babe. i'll be there in an hour see you soon ❤️

You hopped in the shower and got ready throwing on a chill fit yet still looking cute and deciding to keep it natural with no make up since aubrey loved the natural look on you.

Before you knew it Aubrey called you telling you to come down. He always tried to keep it lowkey when he came to pick you up so he drove a benz truck with the windows tinted of course so nobody would be able to see it was him when he did come get you. You got in the car and kissed aubrey " Hi baby i missed you." "I missed you too babe, you look so good with hair tied, sweats on , chilling with no make up on that's when you're the prettiest i hope that you don't take it wrong." you both started laughing "you're so corny babe." as you guys were driving you could tell he was taking the route to his house so you figured it would be a netflix and chill type of night which was fine with you considering the long week you both had. Most of the drive was spent talking about each others day , and aubrey showing you some new songs he's been working on but he was acting a little off but you couldn't figure out why.

DRAKES POV:

I know im acting off tonight and I know y/n could tell but i'm just nervous. Tonight i'm going to ask y/n to move in with me and I don't know how she'll take it. I had a custom closet built for her and built a beautiful vanity in the bathroom to make her feel like the place was more hers. y/n is the type of women I always wanted but could never find in the world i'm in. She's never asked me for anything which is why I give her everything. She keeps me humbled , on track , and inspired. My parents love her, my team loves her, and my days 1s love her too. Life is good.

Y/n POV

As we pulled up to aubreys house he got more quiet " baby are you good? you've been a little off tonight.." "Yea my love i'm chillen just a little tired." I knew he was just pushing something to the side but I decided not to press into it too much.

DRAKES POV :

I had my cook whip up a good dinner for y/n and I considering the special occasion. My queen always has to eat good but my anxiety was too high to wait so I decided to to show her the closet and the vanity and ask her the big question.

"Babe i have a surprise for you upstairs so before we do anything I wanna show you the surprises." "Wowww so that's why you were acting so weird you liar it's cause this whole time you had a surprise." you both got on the elevator and took it to the floor his room was on. you really couldn't think of what the surprise would be especially if it was in his room. "Alright babe ima cover your eyes so you don't see what it is yet." " Ok just don't fuck up and have me hit my head on something cause we'll have a problem." "You know I always gotchu covered babe don't play me like that." walking a few feet we stopped but aubrey hasn't uncovered my eyes yet. "ok so this is one of the two surprises. I decided to show you this one first because it's the smaller one and i rather show you the big one last but I hope you like it baby." Aubrey uncovered my eyes and I see a beautiful rose quartz vanity in his bathroom with all my favorite skin care and make up products on it. I couldn't believe he built this in his house just for me and the fact he spent this much money on something just for me brought me to tears. " do you like it mamas?" "like it ? I love it babe this is beautiful baby thank you , you didn't have to do this for me." aubrey picked me up and i covered his face with kisses and hugged him. putting me back down he said " ok before you say anything else I have one more surprise." So he covered my eyes again and we walked all the way down the long hallway on the floor of his bedroom. Aubrey uncovered my eyes and all I saw were these two doors. They looked new which confused me because I had never seen them there before. " So before I open these doors I just want to say something first. You know how much I love you baby and you know how much I love being around you and just being with you. You've brought me a different kind of peace and serenity I didn't know I needed in my life and it's only obtained when you're physically with me. You make this big ass house feel like a home so I wanted that to be permanent. I want to see you everyday when you get out of work and come home tired and hear about your day and what went down, i want to wake up with you every morning and see that beautiful face, when i'm stressed in the studio i want to be able to have you come down and inspire me, i want you to be here so i know you're always safe and secure and have what you need. with all that being said i want you to live here with me so the vanity and what's behind me was a way to make you feel like this is truly your home too. I hope you like it mamas." By the end of his speech i had tears rolling down my face. As I opened the doors it revealed a huge walk in closet one that i never would have dreamt of full of clothes and shoes and bags. I looked around and sat on the couch in awe. Aubrey stood there for awhile letting me take it all in. "So baby what do you think. if you're not ready yet I totally-" I cut him off by kissing him and that kiss definitely could've turned into more but I knew he needed my answer and i wanted badly to give him my answer. "Yes babe of course." Let's just say that closet space got put to good use that night 😉

#drake #drake imagine #drake imagines #rapper imagine #rapper imagines #aubrey #celebrity imagine #rapper #celebrity #drake preferences #drake blurbs

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sohotthateveryonedied · 4 years

Text

Always By Your Side

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

The kid looks horrible, full offense. Tim is wearing one of Dick’s old Hudson University sweatshirts which just about swallows him, hanging a full inch over where his fingertips end. His hair is tied up in the messiest bun Jason has ever seen, and there’s a purple welt on his chin big enough that a helicopter could use it for a landing pad. His lip is swollen, blood still crusted over where Tim’s teeth must have torn it open on impact. Big yikes.

“If you’re here to raid my fridge, then you already know it’s bad pickings. I haven’t been shopping in weeks.”

“That’s not why I’m here, actually.” Not the only reason, at least. Multitasking is key when you’re a semi-contract killer who needs Sundays free for tea time with Alfred.

(Disclaimer: THIS IS THE ONLY BAD PARENT!BRUCE FIC I WILL EVER WRITE OKAY I SWEAR I ALWAYS AVOID THOSE KINDS OF FICS BUT I’M SALTY THAT THEY NEVER ADDRESSED BRUCE PUNCHING TIM IN COMICS SO I HAD TO DO IT MYSELF.)

It doesn’t take long to break into Tim’s apartment. Record time, actually. In less than ten minutes Jason is sliding up the window to Tim’s kitchen and climbing over the sill, easy peasy. He should really talk to the replacement about his lack of security against fellow batkids. “Timbo?” he calls, closing the window and re-locking it. “You here?” He’d better have the right place. It’s so hard keeping track of everyone’s safehouses these days, and Jason is not eager for a repeat of what happened the last time he got it wrong. That old lady looked scared to death when Jason crawled in through the air duct, covered in blood that was only thirty percent his own. (The lady was super understanding when he explained the situation. She even fixed up his stab wound with her sewing kit and made him some freshly squeezed lemonade. Jason drops by every couple of weeks to check in on her and her cats.) But Tim is the priority now. “Come out, come out, you little shit.” Jason crosses the kitchen toward the living room, then stops and backtracks. He opens the fridge for a beer, momentarily forgetting that the kid is a hopeless health nut. Jason resigns himself to a package of deli ham only two days past the expiration date. It smells fine, so it must be safe to eat, right? Of all Tim’s apartments, this one is by and far the nicest, barring the expired deli meats and un-Jason-proof security system. The living room is pristine with white sofas and a glass coffee table, making the whole setup vibe more like a hotel suite than an actual home. Definitely not Jason-proof. He sits right in the middle of the fancy sofa, kicking off his boots. “If you get mud on my carpet, you’re cleaning it up.”

Jason looks up at Tim in the doorway and grins. “Don’t I always?” The kid looks horrible, full offense. Tim is wearing one of Dick’s old Hudson University sweatshirts which just about swallows him, hanging a full inch over where his fingertips end. His hair is tied up in the messiest bun Jason has ever seen, and there’s a purple welt on his chin big enough that a helicopter could use it for a landing pad. His lip is swollen, blood still crusted over where Tim’s teeth must have torn it open on impact. Big yikes. “If you’re here to raid my fridge, then you already know it’s bad pickings. I haven’t been shopping in weeks.” “That’s not why I’m here, actually.” Not the only reason, at least. Multitasking is key when you’re a contract killer who needs Sundays free for tea time with Alfred. “Just leave whatever data you have here and I’ll look it over in the morning.” “Again, not why I’m here.” “Then can you just tell me whatever it is so I can go back to bed?” It’s five in the afternoon. “Well, jeez, kid. You don’t have to rush me out the door.” Tim’s eyes flit to the ground and stay there, giving the impression of a puppy put in his place. “Sorry.” Jason eyes Tim carefully. He takes in the timid stance, the way Tim wrings and twists the sleeve of his sweatshirt until it’s stretched beyond saving. He clearly hasn’t showered or even bothered tending to his face, like keeping the wound fresh is his way of punishing himself. “You doing okay?” “Fine, why?” “Because you look like shit, that’s why.” “It’s been a hectic few days. I’ve been meaning to crash for hours.” “How about that bruise you got there? Looks nasty.” Tim touches the bruise as if he forgot it was there, biting back a wince. “It’s fine. I got it on patrol and haven’t gotten around to icing it yet.” “Must have been a big guy to do that kind of damage.” Tim’s eyes narrow. Jason eats his ham, a picture of innocence. “If you’re trying to get me to circle around and ask you about your problems, then I’m sorry, but I’m really not in the mood to play therapist tonight. You can stay here as long as you want, but I’m going to bed.” He turns and starts toward his bedroom. “You’re really not going to tell me who gave you that bruise?” Tim stops, a shudder running down his spine. He doesn’t turn, not yet. “Did Barbara tell you?” “I can’t believe you didn’t. What, did you think this would all go away if you just kept quiet about it?” “There’s nothing to talk about. Nothing happened.” “My ass nothing happened. Bruce hit you last night. He hit you over nothing.” Tim whirls around, fists clenched. “So? I get hit all the time. Am I supposed to have a breakdown every time someone punches me?” “Getting hit by a criminal and getting hit by your dad are not the same thing, and you know it.” “I’m a big boy, Jason. I can handle it.” Jason leans forward, forgetting all about his rancid ham. “You realize how fucked up this is, right?” “Oh, give me a break—” “Hey. The adult is talking now. Our father nearly shattered your jaw a few hours ago and here you are, hiding from him like it was your fault.” Not that Jason blames him for not wanting to be near the manor after what happened; he wouldn’t either if he were in Tim’s place. Hell, he was in Tim’s place. “You weren’t there, Jay. You have no idea what happened.” “Oh, yeah? Enlighten me, then. What gives that asshole the right to put his hands on you?” “The fact that I shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place! Bruce was dealing with enough as it was without me making it worse.” “Only if you call trying to help someone ‘making things worse.’ From what Babs told me, you didn’t do Jack shit to deserve what he did.” “I don’t care what Barbara told you. I was there, I know what I did wrong, and I’ve accepted that.” “Except you did nothing wrong.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Tim’s voice is raised, his eyes narrowed. “You didn’t see how upset Bruce was. He wasn’t himself. I should have seen that and backed off, but I didn’t. He was hurting and angry, and...I provoked him. It was my own fault.” “Do you have any idea how insane you sound? You tried to help him, and he punched you in the face for it. I know you’ve dealt with this exact situation a million times, you know the protocol.” Tim rolls his eyes. “This is completely different.” “Why? Because you’re not a minor? Because Bruce isn’t your father? Or maybe because you threw the first punch? Oh, wait. None of those are fucking true.” “What do you want from me? Do you want me to start crying, call up child services and tell them that my adoptive father gave me a little bruise because I was being insubordinate while we were all dressed as vigilantes? Will that magically ease your conscience?” “I want you to stop fucking covering for him,” Jason says. “You know that there’s no excuse for a parent hurting their child.” “I’m not a child!” “Sorry to break it to you, pal, but you fucking are! And Bruce? He’s your father. It doesn’t matter if you’re twelve or seventeen or thirty—his job is to be a fucking parent to you. And instead he punched you so hard Babs said you were unconscious for a good thirty seconds.” Tim crosses his arms and leans on the wall. He doesn’t try to come closer or sit on any of the furniture, keeping his distance from Jason. “You’re blowing this way out of proportion. Maybe those rules apply to normal people, but we’re different. Violence and anger, that’s how this family communicates. Hell, Bruce and I spar all the time and you’ve never lectured me about it being abuse until now.” Jason runs a hand over his face, thoroughly done with this shit. “I can’t believe you’re still trying to rationalize this.” “Because it’s a rational thing!” “Is it?” “Yes.” “Would you ever hit him?” “It wouldn’t be the first time.” “No, I’m not talking sparring or some stupid teenage angst-fueled outburst. I’m asking if you, Tim Drake, would ever intentionally hurt Bruce in a way that would do damage. Even if he did something shitty to deserve it. Would you hurt him?” Tim hesitates. He bites his swollen lip. “I might. If I were really angry.” “We both know that’s bullshit. The guy’s got a hundred pounds on you and your hand would probably shatter if you tried to sock him in the face, but you still wouldn’t hurt him.” “So?” “So, he knows you’re a twig and he beat the shit out of you anyway. That’s not fucking okay.” “It wasn’t on purpose,” Tim says, but he’s losing momentum by the second. He looks years too tired for this conversation as it is. “It was...instinct. A spur-of-the-moment reaction. It’s not—I mean, he’s Bruce. He would never hurt us intentionally.” “He already did.” “And I’m perfectly fine. It’s not like he punched Damian or Cass, just me. He knew I could take it, and he was right. I’m fine. This bruise will heal up in a couple days, and then we can all forget it ever happened.” “I won’t.” “Why not? Why are you being so goddamn uptight about this? It has nothing to do with you, anyway.” Jason can feel his eyes smolder Lazarus green as he surges forward and hisses, “It has everything to do with me.” Tim flinches. It’s not major, barely even counts as a real flinch, but it happens. Tim flinches away from Jason, and the anger dissipates as quickly as it came. Jesus, what did Bruce do to this kid? Jason sits back, takes a breath, tries to make his voice gentler. “Bruce hurt me too, okay?” Tim’s expression doesn’t change but for a twinge of his eyebrows. “It was a misunderstanding, but...he hurt me. Badly. I was out of commission for two fucking months. Probably would have died if it hadn’t been for Roy.” That gets a reaction. Tim’s mouth drops open and he flounders for a moment, like he can’t put the two things together. Bruce attacking Jason? No results. Does not compute. “What—why would he do that?” “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that, as irritating as you are, you don’t deserve to be treated like that.” Like he has any right to be saying this. Tim still has the scar on his neck from when Jason’s brains were made of gruel. “Not by a parent. Not by someone you’re supposed to trust. So this is me looking out for you, alright?” Jason reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulls out a crumpled paper. “I know you’ve got your own setup for when you need time away from the manor, but these are all of my addresses and phone numbers. If something like this happens again, I want you to call me.” Tim takes the paper but protests, “It’s okay, really. I don’t need—” “Yeah, yeah, you don’t need to be coddled. I get it. But keep it anyway. And if you start feeling unsafe at the manor, you call me and I’ll take care of it. I already gave Damian, Cass, and Duke copies too. Just...look out for yourself, alright? All of you. Look out for each other.” Tim folds up the paper and slips it into his back pocket. “What about you?” “The old man and I are…” That’s a whole other can of worms Jason really isn’t in the mood to unpack right now. “It’s still rocky between us. I’m keeping my distance. But for you guys, I don’t care. If one of you needs help, I’ll be there. Got it?” Tim blinks, and lucky for him, Jason is courteous enough not to make fun of the tears he is clearly holding back. “Thanks, Jay.”

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wordsfromthesol · 4 years

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Summoning Ritual (3/3)

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: @malfoys-demigod @pricetagofficial @zphilophobiaz @queencommonsense @edenspolaroids @bonzhur @silverw19 @sleepingwithsirensfangirl1 @red-for-harleen @officiallydarkgeek Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader Summary: You try a summoning ritual, optimistically hoping to be reunited with your parents, but somehow end up in Gotham. At Wayne Manor. Doesn't this stuff only exist in comic books and television? Word Count: 1.5k

Part One Part Two

The walk downstairs felt like an eternity. The boom tube was supposedly instantaneous, but you swear it took ages to get to the Watchtower. And then there you were, standing outside of a door. A simple door was all that stood between you and your parents. Well, your biological parents anyway. You sucked in a deep breath and stepped through the threshold.

"Y/N." The simple word breathy and full of relief. Zatanna immediately ran up and embraced you.

"You can't be here." All the relief and joy emitted by your supposed mother was destroyed with one short sentence. Constantine stood facing the wall, unable to look at you.

"Not now…" Zatanna seethed, wanting to revel in the moment of seeing her daughter.

"Yes fucking now. That damn bastard could be right outside!" You could tell it was taking all his willpower not to turn around.

"Is there someone after me?" The question left your lips before your brain had time to process it.

"Of course there is. Do you think we would send our daughter to another fucking world --" Constantine stopped himself. "We had no other bloody choice."

"I'm sure the Justice League…" Tim interjected, but his thoughts were quickly dismissed.

"No bird boy. The good ole Justice League can't do shit against bloody Trigon. I've seen it. I've seen her die." you could see his frustration rising, "My own daughter dead before she was born. It was the only way."

"Did…uh…something change? Why am I back here?" Once again, the question seemed to bypass your brain.

Finally, his willpower gave out, as he spun around to face you. "How the bloody hell did you even get here? We gave up everything for you to be safe. And now you're just back."

You saw a look of confusion flash across Zatanna's face just as she chimed in, "Y/N. How did you get back?"

You furrowed your brows, "You're asking me as if I know? I found this stupid summoning spell online and was trying to talk to my parents again." Your eyes fell to the ground, "Who apparently aren't my parents…" you mumbled out.

"What was the spell?" She looked at you, curiosity in her voice.

"I don't know! It didn't make any sense okay!" You didn't know why you were getting so upset, but you couldn't help screaming out in frustration.

"Damn it all. You must remember something. It was a spell. You remember it. Think." Any remaining patience Constantine had vanished as the final word left his lips.

Inhaling sharply, you closed your eyes. A few moments passed before you began to mumble:

Nwoym llacot ecalpa erised straehym emgnirb dnaraf dnaraen hcraes kcali tahwsi emoha.

The words kept tumbling from your mouth, bypassing your thoughts entirely. You were jolted from the trance as you felt someone's arms surround you. With your eyes still tightly shut, you felt their hands travel up your back and briefly caress your shoulders before coming to rest on your cheeks. Only then did you open your eyes to find Tim intently staring down at you.

"I told you, I'm right here."

"AHEM! I'm sorry little birdie, are you dating my daughter?!" The raucous voice echoed throughout the room. Zatanna quickly stepped in Constantine's path.

"So, the spell. A home is what I lack. Search near and far and bring me my heart's desire. A place to call my own." She paused for a minute, letting the words settle in her mind. "It's more of a seeking spell. It returned you to your home and likely near your heart's desire." She eyed the two of you, still entangled in each other. "Now that that mystery is solved, we need to address the elephant in the room. Trigon is still after you and a display of magic powerful enough for you to travel between earths."

"He knows you're here," Constantine mumbled her final thoughts. "Where's Raven?"

"Titans Tower. San Francisco." Tim called out before heading towards the Zeta tube. No one had a plan, but hopefully Raven could help with that. After all, she's managed to keep Trigon at bay up until now.

"I'm sorry." Raven shook her head, surely she misunderstood Tim. "And you think Trigon can use her to get to this world? You're who exactly?" She turned towards you, waiting on a response. Constantine spoke up instead.

"Oi, she's our daughter. We all know the bastard could damn well do it."

"Right…and you guys managed to hide a kid for 20 years how exactly?"

"Well, actually…we only gave her up a year ago. Exactly a year ago. And we sent her to a different universe. One where Trigon was just a myth. One where he held little to no power." Zatanna looked over at you with the same sorrowful look in her eyes from your vision. "And then she showed up here. Lost, confused, and unaware of the power she holds."

"If it's such a big deal, then just send me back." You looked around the room, tired of them talking as if you weren't standing in front of them.

"That won't work. If what they say is true, he already knows of your existence and will be coming." Raven reasoned with you as you watched the gears turn in her mind. "We need to go check his prison.

"Y/N is not going." Tim spoke for you, which inadvertently made you want to go.

"And why not?"

"Y/N, you don't understand. The jail --" Tim began, but Raven cut him off.

"It's in my mind. And we're all going. Because if he is out, it's going to take all of us to stop him."

It was only a matter of hours and a few more arguments between Raven and your parents before you were all standing on some sort of bridge. Looking around, you noticed nothing here obeyed the laws of physics. How were you supposed to fight in a place like this? Did you even know how to fight? Unfortunately, it seemed like you would have your answer sooner rather than later.

Everyone's face grew grim as you approached this red crystal-like structure. You understood why as a black face with too many eyes appeared through the shimmering prison. Your whole body shook as you watched a smile form on its beastly features.

"Oh look. You brought the girl right to me. How kind of you all."

"Don't you dare act like you planned this!" You jumped back as Raven lunged towards him, enraged.

"Didn't I daughter? Why I grew tired of your rejections. Once I learned of this offspring…I knew I had a chance yet again. Such powerful magic courses through her. Easily enough to contain me as I journey to your world."

"Tim, get her out of here…now!" Zatanna screamed out just as a large crack formed in the crystal. You felt a tug at your arm, but your legs were locked in place. You heard a villainous laugh echo through your body.

"I'm afraid it's too late for that." Wait…was that your voice? You watched as your arm jerked, pulling Tim to the ground. "This girl truly has not scratched the surface of her power. Time to test it. Who's first? The newfound mother perhaps?" Your hands sent a surge of energy towards Zatanna, knocking her to the ground. Constantine mumbled something as he ran to her side. A bubble appeared around them. "Oh well, that's no fun. Raven, why don't you come out and play?" Raven's eyes went dark as she began levitating off the ground. Almost as soon as she started to say a spell of her own, a blast from above spiraled down and threw her to the floor. "Too easy. Where's that Tim fellow? You seemed fond of him…" You felt your head turning from side to side, but pressed your eyes shut.

"NO!" You screamed out.

"How did you…don't bother fighting girl." Suddenly the wind left your body as it smacked against the pavement. Still, you refused to open your eyes. "You think the loss of sight can stop ME?!" The voice roared throughout your head. You didn't know what to do or how to stop him and you were slowly losing all the feeling in your body. Christ, you only knew one spell to begin with. But you couldn't hear the outside world anymore. What was left to try?

Fuck it. You thought before saying the incantation in your mind. You had no idea how long you had repeated the statement in your mind before you heard it out loud. Coming from your own mouth. Slowly you began to feel new aches and pains forming all over your body. Then you heard it. Zatanna screaming out an incantation of her own.

"Nomed nosirp rouy ot nruter!"

Following her lead, you belted out the words, "Nomed nosirp rouy ot nruter!" You paused for just a moment before adding your own spell. "Edisni lrig eht eerf dna dniheb ecart on evael!" Suddenly your legs crumpled beneath you. You braced yourself for the hard ground, but instead, you only felt the warmth of someone's arms. Your eyes fluttered open to see Tim's face. You gently caressed his jaw, eyes focused on the bruise already taking form. "I think I may have found my home."

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afni-fics · 3 years

Text

In Hindsight: Chapter 7: In the Present... Lie in Ruins

In Hindsight: Chapter 7: In the Present... Lie in Ruins by C_R_Scott Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tim Drake/Tam Fox, Jack Drake/Janet Drake, Janet Drake & Tim Drake, Jack Drake & Tim Drake, Lucius Fox/Tanya Fox, Tim Drake & Tam Fox Characters: Tim Drake, Tam Fox, Janet Drake, Jack Drake, Lucius Fox, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Tim Drake-centric, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Family Feels, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Childhood Memories, Childhood Sweethearts, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Good Parent Janet Drake, Bad Parent Jack Drake, no beta we die like robins, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent

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Story Summary: What if Tim Drake was originally raised by his maternal grandmother for the first eight years of his life due to "circumstances" involving his biological parents? What if Tim's grandmother was also the next door neighbor and occasional sitter for Lucius Fox's family?

Chapter Summary: Jack Drake had lied to Tim about his grandmother's death. However, Jack is also dead himself. Tim attempts to cope with the aftermath of learning the truth of what his father had done. Fortunately, he is not alone.

...

"Jack lied."

Lucius's words were stuck in Bruce's head as Alfred drove him into Gotham City from the Manor. They kept repeating themselves over and over and over again. After about ten minutes of focused brooding, Bruce finally voiced the question he knew he couldn't run away from.

"How did I miss this?"

From the driver's seat, Alfred glanced at Bruce via the rear-view mirror. "You had no way of knowing."

"I should have known."

"How?" Alfred's brow furrowed. "Tim didn't even know? His fa--" The old man choked on the word with a grimace, as if he'd bitten into a piece of bitter melon. He huffed irritably before continuing. "--Jack lied to him for years, and gave none of us any reason to suspect anything coming out of his mouth was false."

Bruce shook his head as he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts before selecting one. After three rings, the line finally connected.

"You do know it's not even noon, right?" Barbara Gordon grumbled. "What could you possibly want at this ungodly time of the morning?"

"It's about Tim."

There was moment of pause. When Barbara spoke, drowsiness had been replaced with concern in her tone. "What's wrong? Is he alright? Is he having a delayed reaction to the new Fear Toxin?"

Bruce hesitated before answering, making a quick mental note to double check Tim's bloodwork as soon as he could. If Tim was suffering a delayed Fear Toxin reaction on top of everything else, that could further complicate his son's compromised emotional state.

"It's not about the Fear Toxin, though that could be exacerbating the situation in the background," Bruce said finally. "I need you to do some digging into Tim's family history."

"You're asking me to investigate Tim? Why? What's going on?"

"Tim was never an orphan."

"WHAT?!"

"We just discovered today he has a living maternal grandmother," Bruce explained. "But for whatever reason Jack Drake lied to Tim and his mother eight years ago and told them both she was dead. From what I've been told, his grandmother was supposed to have had full custody of him back then. Then she got hospitalized. When she was finally well enough to be released, Jack had managed to sever all ties between her and Tim."

"Jesus Christ," Barbara breathed out softly. "Does Tim kno-- Never mind, of course he knows otherwise you wouldn't be asking me to do the investigating. Is he with you now?"

"I'm going to his place in the city with Alfred to check on him. Tracker says he's stationary at the Nest."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Do a deep dive into the history between Tim's parents and his grandmother. Her name is Susan Klein. We need to learn what exactly triggered the original custody arrangement, as well as how Jack managed to take custody away from Susan and hide the fact that she was alive from both Tim and his mother. I also want to know why the hell the courts and CPS didn't get involved back then to return Tim to his grandmother, especially after Jack died."

"You also want to find the rest of Jack's skeletons," Barbara inferred. "Because if Jack lied about something this big to his own son--"

"--What else did he lie about?--"

"--And how much damage could this do to Tim if it's brought to light?" Bruce could hear Barbara indulge in a weary sigh. "Holy shit... Ok... Ok... Ok... Give me an hour to get a shower, coffee, and food. Then I'll start digging. This is all cold case kinda stuff, so it's not going anywhere. Keep me posted if you pick up any new leads from Tim."

"Thanks Barbara."

"Oh, by the way... Who else knows about this?"

"Alfred, Lucius, and Tam."

"Alright. I'll keep this on the down low from the rest of the fam until you can check on Tim. Take care of him, Bruce."

"I will."

With the call ended, Bruce leaned back and closed his eyes. What was he going to find when they finally got the Nest? He didn't have to wait long. About ten minutes later, Bruce and Alfred found themselves being led through Tim's home by a deeply concerned Tamara Fox.

...

Three months and twenty-eight days.

That's how long it took for Tim to travel around the US and the world, investigate multiple archaeological sites, survive the Council of Spiders, cripple the League of Assassins, save the girl, and return home with proof of his adopted father being alive. So much mileage, blood, and lives lost had gone into the journey to recover Bruce Wayne from the time stream Darkseid had sent him into.

Nineteen minutes and thirty-nine seconds.

That's all the time it took for Tim to find evidence his grandmother was alive and well and still living in the same house she always had for the past fifty years. He didn't have to leave Gotham. He didn't even have to leave his workstation. All the information was at his fingertips online. All the evidence pointed at the conclusion that his grandmother (and the truth) had always been just a few keystrokes away.

But that couldn't be right. If that was right, that meant his father lied to him and his mother. Jack Drake wouldn't have done that. So it had to be wrong. Tim just couldn't figure out how the evidence was wrong.

"Recognized: Tamara Fox. Alpha-Zero-Two. Entrance: Garage."

"Recognized: Verified Guest. Alpha-Zero-Two-Dash-Zero-One. Entrance: Garage."

"Recognized: Verified Guest. Alpha-Zero-Two-Dash-Zero-Two. Entrance: Garage."

The voice of Tim's AI security matrix echoed through the cavernous space of Tim's brand new "Nest", the hidden vigilante base of operations tucked behind his renovated theater home. The young man barely acknowledged the announcements, though, as he sat motionless at his workstation with his elbows propped up on the desk and his face buried in his hands. Slowly, his hands shifted, sliding down his face over closed eyes to linger over his nose and mouth. Tim drew in a breath through his nose and tried to release it slowly through his mouth. Despite his attempt at control, his breath shuddered audibly as he exhaled. Desperately, he squeezed his eyes shut tighter and shifted his hands to press against them. The adjustment exposed his mouth pressed into a grim, trembling line as he struggled to keep any sound from escaping.

Despite his best efforts, a thin trickle of moisture escaped his hands and coursed down his cheek.

Tim heard the hidden door that connected the Nest to his living room slide open, and blindly identified the footsteps of three people walking into his inner sanctum. One of them he was certain was Tam, and he had his suspicions about the other two.

However, in order to confirm them, he would have had to remove his hands and open his eyes...

...and he was not ready to do that just yet.

...

The moment Bruce laid eyes on Tim, he felt his heart ache at the sight before him. There was his son, sitting alone at his workstation, and everything in his body language was silently crying out with shock and dismay.

For a brief few seconds, Bruce froze. His mind was a panicked jumble. What could he do?! What could he say?! How was he going to fix this?!

Then Tim slowly lifted his head from his hands, and he when he looked over at Bruce, the older man's breath got stuck in his throat. His normally confident and unwavering teenager looked so dazed and hurt and utterly lost.

"B?"

A single letter, barely whispered, partly a question, but mostly a plea, was all it took. Bruce's feet were no longer rooted to the floor, and he quickly closed the distance between himself and his son, because his boy had called out to him.

Tim rose to his feet as he saw Bruce approach, and he let himself be wrapped up in his adopted father's arms. Bruce could feel Tim lean into him, could feel the anxious tension in every muscle in his son's back as the boy buried his face into his chest.

"I'm here, Tim," Bruce murmured as soothingly as he could as he stroked Tim's hair. "It's going to be ok."

"I... I don't know what I'm doing wrong," Tim whispered mournfully.

"Wrong?"

"Dad said she died. He wouldn't have lied about that. He couldn't have." Unconsciously, Tim's hand fisted into Bruce's shirt, as if he were hanging on for dear life. "But Lucius says she's alive... Been alive this entire time. And the evidence..."

As more words spilled out from his boy's mouth, Bruce heart broke at the brittle desperation in Tim's voice.

"I have to be missing something. I'm doing something wrong. I'm making a mistake somewhere and I don't know what it is." Tim drew in a shuddering breath. "Or maybe it's the Fear Toxin. An after effect? Maybe it's making me hallucinate? Mis-hear... Misinterpret things?" He turned his head from Bruce's chest and gazed uneasily at the workstation monitors. "Maybe I'm just seeing things? Maybe I'm just losing my mind?"

The fact that Tim's voice took on a hopeful edge at the thought of going crazy sent a stab of deep concern through Bruce. A quick glance at the workstation monitors showed him all the evidence Tim had dug up on his own since leaving Wayne Tower. A lump rose to his throat. When he spoke, he could barely force his own voice above a hoarse whisper.

"You're not hallucinating, Tim. I... I can see the evidence myself."

Tim's eyes widened at the screens, then he shut them tightly before shaking his head. "No... No no no no no..."

"Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce glanced over to Tamara, who looked close to tears herself, but was managing to just barely hold herself together. She had one arm wrapped around herself and the other held her cell phone. He could see Lucius's name on the screen as the current active call.

"Yes?"

Tam swallowed hard before answering. "My dad's on the line. I told him we found Tim. He... He's with Nana... Tim's grandma... right now."

Bruce felt Tim freeze in his arms. He felt his own heart stutter as well.

"She... would like to speak with Tim, if he's able. She understands though if he's too overwhelmed right now."

Tim turned his gaze to Tam's phone, his red-rimmed blue eyes wide and warring between longing and dread.

Bruce stroked Tim's back. "You... don't have to if you don't want to," he murmured. "We can wait until you feel better... Until we figure things out on this side."

For several seconds, there was nothing but tense silence in the air. Bruce could practically see the gears turning and grinding in Tim's mind. He could see the war play out on his son's face as he struggled to make a decision. Then, finally, Tim uneasily reached out and offered an open hand to Tam.

Tam nodded and raised the phone to her own ear first. "I'm handing my phone to Tim now." Then, she carefully gave Tim the cell, watching as he wrapped his fingers about the edges of the device and raised it to his own ear.

"H-Hello?"

Though he was still holding Tim closely, Bruce wasn't close enough to hear much of other end of the call. He could tell it was a woman's voice, but couldn't make out most of the words. But he could see his son. He watched, helpless, as after a moment Tim's eyes filled immediately with tears and spilled over onto his cheeks. One short anguished sob escaped him before he used his other hand to clamp his mouth shut. Though it stifled the sounds, Bruce could still see and feel the sobs wracking his boy's entire frame.

As Bruce held him tighter, he could hear the tone of the woman's voice shift to something so soothing and maternal that his own heart ached along with his son's. It had the desired effect of calming Tim enough so that the could finally find his voice once more.

"I love you, too, Nana," he whimpered softly. Then, he stretched out his hand and gave the phone back to Tam, who was in tears herself as she took it back.

Once his hands were free and the phone was pressed again to Tam's ear as she spoke with her father, Tim crumpled to the floor as he burst into tears once more, this time without restraint. Bruce followed him down to control his fall and let his son cried brokenheartedly against him.

"He lied," Tim keened between sobs. "He lied... He lied... He lied..."

Tears coursed down Bruce's face as he watched his son come apart at the seams. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Alfred gazing at him with love, sorrow, and tear-filled eyes as well. Though long dead, Jack Drake had broken their beloved boy's heart, and they would be damned if they didn't do their best to put the pieces back together again and make things right for everyone involved.

...

Author's Notes:

Author's Note: This was a challenging chapter to write. I hope I did Tim's breakdown justice. Things will, hopefully, start looking up for him from this point onward for a bit.

As for the length of time I put down as Tim's search for Bruce during the origin Red Robin run, this was just a wild guess on my part. In the comics, there was a map on a page in the first issue showing a map with pins on where he had previously investigated. Based on that, I estimated he had been travelling nonstop for at least several months before being intercepted by Ra's and getting dragged into the League and Council drama along with Tam.

#tim drake#tam fox#tim/tam#red robin#fanfiction#wip#rr: in hindsight#batfam#batfamily#lucius fox#bruce wayne

#rr: in hindsight #tim drake #tam fox #tim/tam #red robin #fanfiction #wip #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #batfamily #batfam

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dessarious · 4 years

Text

Misconceptions, Miscommunication, and Misinformation Pt77

Inspired by @ozmav Maribat AU

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Damian spent the next day with Marinette at the hotel. Chloe and Luka both had school and Mari needed someone to keep her calm before the meeting with the Justice League. Not to mention Damian did not want to be stuck in the apartment with Drake. When Hawkmoth was unmasked it created a lot of ripples that everyone was still reeling from. Françoise Dupont was one more casualty. Between the ongoing investigation that was happening because of what happened to Marinette and the fact that Hawkmoth’s son went there the school was shut down until they found new staff at the very least. Since Damian hadn’t transferred yet he was off until it went through.

“So how’s your family taking the announcement?” He figured she’d ask eventually but it had taken her three hours so he’d give her points for restraint.

“The same way they take everything. It’s just one more thing for them to make fun of and overanalyze.” He saw her expression go hard and when she spoke there was a dangerous edge to her voice.

“They’re making fun of your sexuality?” He actually shivered at her tone. This was why Batman himself was terrified of this tiny girl.

“No. More making jokes about me having a significant other at all. Apparently they all decided that if I was ever to show interest in someone it would definitely not be reciprocated. At the moment they seem to be debating whether I’m making the whole thing up or holding my boyfriend’s family hostage to get dates.” It was their usual nonsense and he was used to it. Marinette however looked ready to transform and go back to Gotham to ‘talk’ to them.

“You should tell them that’s not okay. You shouldn’t be so worried about dealing with them that you’re afraid of living your life.” Damian just scowled at her in annoyance.

“I’m not afraid of those idiots.” She rolled her eyes and sighed.

“I didn’t say you were. But how many times do you decide to not do something because you don’t want to deal with the fallout? How often do you debate whether it’s worth it to do something that actually makes you happy because you think they’ll give you shit for it? They need to know that’s not okay. You should be able to live your life without being concerned about what they’ll say or do.” That made sense, to a point anyway. When he really considered it he realized she was right. It never would have occurred to him to ask to go to an arts school because he didn’t want to listen to their comments. At the same time, it was how they acted with everyone in the family.

“They don’t just do it to me you know. They constantly harass each other just as much. I could just ignore it and not let it control my actions.” He hadn’t realized how much it did control his actions if he was being honest. That was one of the many things he’d learned about himself because of his friendship with Marinette. Not that he’d ever tell her that.

“That doesn’t make it alright. Just because they don’t discriminate in their stupidity doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be called out on it. Just like when I call you out for being an asshole.” He gave her a flat look but she just smiled at him. It was becoming harder to keep a straight face around her and he couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing.

“Any idea what you’re going to say to the Justice League?” All else fails, redirect the conversation. Marinette grimaced at the question before blowing out an annoyed breath.

“I assume that Superman is going to start before I can get a word in edgewise so having an actual speech planned out is pointless. There’s only a few things I want to make clear. First that the ban to travel to Paris will be lifted at the end of the week in case of ‘loose ends’. Mainly I just want them to stew about the fact that they can’t do whatever they please.” Damian let out a snort of laughter at that. Given the way they’d all tried to descend on Paris the moment Hawkmoth’s capture hit the news he understood why she was doing it. They didn’t wait to confirm she had in fact caught the real villain and could have just been putting Paris at risk. “Second, that they still have absolutely no authority over the Miraculous themselves. Having Wonder Woman’s backing should help with that but I wouldn’t be surprised if one or more of them try to tell me to give them the Miraculous. And third, if any of them think tracking us down to take them is a good idea they’ll get the full force of the wrath the Kwami are capable of. Given that Plagg destroyed the dinosaurs in an ‘oops’ moment they should probably be worried about what he can do when angered.”

“As much as I would like to believe words will work, you may have to do another demonstration.” Marinette just nodded at him. She knew as well as he did that this wasn’t going to be easy. It was highly probable that they’d spend the next six months or so showing various members of the League that they needed to back off. Yet another reason for him to stay in Paris. Damian still didn’t understand why Marinette didn’t just ask him for the civilian identities of the heroes so she could deal with them herself. “Did you figure out which wheelchair you want to get? My father said he’d pay the difference if you need something out of your price range.”

“That’s a kind offer but I’m not struggling for money. My business has actually gotten even better since the fashion show. I might actually have to hire some people to make the clothing so I can concentrate on design if I don’t want to start turning people away. I’m also getting a lot of interest from clothing manufacturers about designing discount clothing to market to a broad audience. Honestly just doing one of those would likely have me set for life. I’m just glad I’m at the point where this won’t completely destroy my parents financially. While it’s nice to know they love me enough to sell the bakery and move somewhere that’s accessible to me I would never want them to have to.”

“Well if you need tips or names of people to help with that, Drake would be a good source. I know that you have Jagged stone but global manufacturing is different from music in a lot of ways. Wayne Enterprises deals with a lot more of the problems you’re likely to see.” She nodded thoughtfully before offering him a bright smile.

“Thanks, I might just do that. It’ll be helpful to talk to someone who knows the ins and outs of things. I was actually going to ask you since I have a feeling you know a lot more about your father’s business than you let on.” Damian just blinked at her for a moment before giving out a sigh and pulled out his phone to send her a list he’d put together. It was names and numbers of people in the company who could help her along with various laws, specifically intellectual copyright laws, and some other things to do with business. She just gave him another bright smile before she started drawing in her sketchbook again. He really wished he could figure out how she did that.

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#maribat #marinette dupen chang #Damian Wayne #bffmaridami

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mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea · 3 years

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Holiday prompts: 8, 11, 20. FUCK MY SHIT UP

And white the fading forests grow

If anyone had told Kate Pryde years ago that she'd wind up spending a whole holiday season at a quaint little (little being relative) cabin in the New England wilderness instead of the Xavier School or any other large gathering of mutants, she'd have laughed them right out of her face. If anyone had said she'd be spending that season with Emma and Christian Frost, Bobby Drake, and Loki, she'd have noped herself away and never speak to that person again.

And yet...

"Kate, explain your lovely little candle tradition again, please?" Loki requested from where he fussed with the 12' Douglas Fir, trying to turn it to the perfect angle for decorating. He glanced over his shoulder to see the look of surprise on the spritely brunette's face. "Robert attempted to explain it, but he's so busy making eyes at Christian that I think he missed details."

Bobby pouted from where he sat at the table with his boyfriend, Kate, and her girlfriend – okay, so they'd only been dating a couple of weeks, but Kate thought she was important enough to bring out to Loki's cabin in the middle of nowhere for the winter holidays – Danni. He reached out with the hand that Christian wasn't holding, and he gave the wooden dreidel a spin.

"I didn't miss details, Loki. I just...well, my parents weren't exactly orthodox. Or even practicing. Jewish stuff was on a need to be convenient basis with them. Or when my grandmothers visited, so it wasn't as ingrained in me as it was Kate," Bobby defended himself. He blushed a little when Christian lifted his hand and kissed it.

Loki walked over, rolling his shoulders until they popped. His eyes fell on the dreidel as it spun and spun, finally slowing down to land on a character he didn't quite recognize. Well, he could read it, but he didn't understand its meaning. It wasn't as if he hadn't encountered many of Earth's cultures over the centuries he was alive and popping down here for visits, but he hadn't blanketed himself in most of them other than the more northern ones that based their religious practices off of what they'd learned about Asgard.

"Alright, so what does that mean?" Loki asked, nodding toward the toppled dreidel. "Robert spun it, so what does he...gain or...lose, I'm assuming is the object of the game?"

Kate just smirked a little even as Bobby's pout grew.

"It landed on Shin. It means to 'put in'. He has to put pieces of his gelt...his chocolate coin...into the middle. Which means that the three of us have a chance to win it."

Loki reached out for the shiny gold 'coins' that were stacking up at the center of the table. His hand hovered over them, however, and he looked from Kate to Bobby.

"May I?" he asked, hearing Frigga's voice in his head to not touch without consent. When both Bobby and Kate nodded, he plucked one of the coins from the middle and studied it. "And this is chocolate? Inside this gold..."

Emma walked closer and set her hand on Loki's lower back, stroking across his spine with her thumb.

"It's not real gold, darling. It's gold foil wrapped around chocolate," she told him with an indulgent smile.

"Ohhh...that is a charming tradition," Loki remarked. "I do like chocolate, and dressing it up as a treasure when it is one makes it even more fun, doesn't it?" He set the coin back onto the table right where he found it then wrapped an arm around Emma's shoulders, snuggling her against his side. "And this is a holiday like Yule...or Christmas?"

So they didn't just hover, Loki summoned one of the other chairs close, and he eased into it and tugged Emma into his lap. He didn't miss the looks of surprise that the two X-Men snuck to each other.

"No, it's...well..." Bobby looked to Kate for help. "Sorry, Loki. I'm just really bad with all the details. I can make the latkes, I can light the candles, and I can play dreidel and apparently lose all my gelt, but it just wasn't the biggest of traditions in my house," he apologized and squeezed Christian's hand back.

"Sweetheart, I don't think you're offending our host by not being Mr. Trivia," the elder Frost sibling said sweetly and stood up to fill crystalline punch cups full of homemade egg nog for everyone.

Emma made herself quite comfortable in Loki's lap. The only one missing from their little holiday away from everyone else had assured her that he was on his way, but for the moment, she was content with this motley family she'd somehow managed to accumulate. Many times throughout her life, each family she'd claimed had built up into a monument she could trust enough to be vulnerable around only to crumble under the weight of betrayal and indifference. Even now, she worried that letting these few, these happy few into her heart lest it shatter her heart like that diamond bullet.

"Kate, you grew up in the faith with all the traditions and background," Emma replied in a tone more gentle than the sassy Queen was known for.

Kate set the dreidel in motion before standing up to take two of the cups from Christian, one of which she offered to Danni before touching a kiss to the top of her girlfriend's blonde crown. As she reclaimed her chair, the dreidel stopped again and fell over, making Bobby crow a little as it once more fell onto Shin. She stuck out her tongue at him and tossed a chocolate coin into the middle of the table.

"Yes, I did. I mean, my family wasn't Orthodox, but we kept the holidays and most Sabbaths...when Dad wasn't working late at the office. I went to Hebrew school. I think I learned even more from Erik," she explained and set her cup on the table out of the way.

"Thank you, Christian," Loki stated as he took one of the cups from Emma's brother. He took a sip and let the thick eggy liquid sit on his tongue for a moment before he swallowed, tasting the bourbon and nutmeg keenly. "This is...very strange but delicious," he added. "If you'd rather not explain, I understand. I'm just curious as your world has so many mystical options to choose from." Then those verdant eyes of his sparkled with the mischief he was known for. As if tempting her, he added, "I'll show you mine, Kate, if you show me yours."

"Hey now," Danni pretended to sound jealous and made a dramatic show of slinging her arm around Kate's shoulders. She kissed her cheek then plucked up the dreidel to take her turn. While the wooden toy spun and spun, she gestured between Loki and Kate. "By all means, babe, lay it all out on the table. If nothing else, I want to learn about all the shiny pagan holiday stuff from Asgard," the tattoo artist stated before turning her eyes to what her prize or predicament would be.

Kate met Loki's and Emma's eyes and shrugged a shoulder.

"Fair enough. I'll tell you all about it, if nothing more than to impress my lady," she replied and gave her girlfriend a flirty smile.

The dreidel stopped and fell over. It landed on a boxy looking letter without a bottom.

"That looks very similar to Uruz," he stated. "The rune of strength," came the codicil.

"It's hay," Kate said. "It means that Danni gets to take half the pot. That is what's at the center of the table. Go for it, babe" she explained and encouraged her girlfriend.

While Danni collected her portion of the loot and Christian reached out to spin the dreidel, Kate started into the history of the Jewish rebellion against the Greek and Syrian oppressors, but she became more animated when she spoke about the rededication of the second temple in Jerusalem and how there was not enough olive oil to burn all seven candles of the Menorah, but they lit the first anyway. It was a portion of the history that she and Erik Lensherr discussed most often, especially because she saw the hope out of oppression, and liked to think that she reminded him of that to soothe his cynical heart.

"And when they thought they only had enough oil for one day, it burned for eight days," Kate finished.

She took a drink of her egg nog and looked at the others. The dreidel had been completely forgotten, even though Christian's spin had earned him the other half of the pot, while everyone listened to Kate the Storyteller. Blinking over their rapt attention, Kate cleared her throat.

"So, now you know about Hanukkah, Loki," she mused, smirking at the way the King of Jotunheim huggled his arms around Emma and buried his face against her shoulder.

Loki eased Emma from his lap and carefully set his cup onto the table where it wasn't in anyone's way. He walked around until he stood between Kate and Danni, leaned down, and kissed Kate's cheek.

"Thank you for explaining," he told her in the tenderest of voices.

And for good measure, he touched his lips to Danni's cheek.

"And welcome to this strange little family," Loki replied at her look of confusion before he made his way back to the tree to don its finishing touches.

Bobby looked down at the center of the table and the dreidel and finally nudged Christian to point out that he'd won the rest of the loot, but without warning, his boyfriend tilted his head and delivered a sound kiss to his lips instead. Something that Bobby wasn't going to turn down at all.

"I'd say get a room, you two, but you'd just tell Danni and me to do the same," Kate teased as she looked at her meager winnings, knowing that her girlfriend would likely share a chocolate coin or two.

"Besides, you both have a room here, Katherine," Emma stated as she, too, stood up and finished her egg nog. She took hers and Loki's cups to the kitchen to set in the sink then walked over to join one half of her significant others at the tree. She set her hands on his back; she'd already picked up on a little tension before she couched his strained shoulder blades.

"What has you worried, darling?" she asked mind-to-mind so as not to concern the young ones.

"Oh, you know. Thinking that Anthony should've been here by now. Pepper assured me that she wasn't keeping him any longer than necessary. Otherwise, he would've driven her mad," Loki responded the same and tilted his head when Emma rested her chin on his shoulder. He touched his lips to hers then went back to adding shimmery crystalline ornaments to the branches of the tree.

Kate and Bobby watched Emma with Loki. Of course, Christian would recognize a more settled demeanor to his sister than years past, but it was truly the former two mutants who could see more of a difference because they'd lived through her pining over Scott. While Danni and Christian headed into the kitchen to wash up and to check on the slow-roasting prime rib in the oven that they'd all been smelling since noon, Kate leaned closer to speak to Bobby where they wouldn't be heard.

"Can you believe that our White Queen is so happy? With Loki?"

"And Tony Stark," Bobby concluded. "It's weird, Kate, but...I don't know. Seems right. More right than...all the rest." He shoved a piece of unwrapped gelt into his mouth then offered one of his few left to Kate.

Another hour and a half later, they all stood outside the 'cabin', which was actually more elegant and upscale than the term 'cabin' would imply. Snow dusted their boots, and they were all wrapped warmly in layers of shirts and coats, scarves wrapped around their necks, and beanies covering their heads and ears. Kate held onto Danni's hands, and Christian was snuggled with his back to Bobby's chest.

Of course, the cold didn't bother Bobby at all; just as it didn't affect Loki now that he'd come to grudgingly accept the benefits of his Jotun biology underneath the Aesir glamor he continued to wear.

"What are we looking at again, Loki?" Christian was the one to ask. "I mean, the snow on the trees is beautiful. The snow...as far as our eyes can see is lovely, but...we're just standing out here staring at...well, I'm not sure."

Loki peeked over Emma's head at the others, making sure they all would have the best view of the horizon. Then his longing gaze fell on the driveway again and the car that had yet to appear.

"Soon, Christian, you'll see. It is, after all, the Winter Solstice," Loki explained and nodded to where the sun was just beginning its descent toward the horizon, turning much of the scenery in the distance into silhouette. "The longest night of the year. I believe in your Iceland, the word for it is Vetrarsólstöður, which is very close to what it is on Asgard." In fact, Loki repeated the word for Winter Solstice in the language he'd been raised with, and it sounded nearly identical to the Icelandic term. "In our tradition, as in many of yours dating before the influence of Christianity, it is the death of the sun through the coldest months of the year," he added.

"I have several friends who are Asatruar...and plenty who are Wiccan of some variety, and that's pretty much how they celebrate it, too," Danni announced then kissed Kate's hands through her gloves.

Just as the sun dipped down a little further, and Emma leaned closer into Loki's side to comfort his worries, a cherry red SUV of the newest models not even out on the market yet for public purchase, no less stylish than the Audi R8 Spyder of the same color, pulled up to the cabin and stopped just behind all the other cars. The lights cut out, and the door opened and slammed closed before a figure dressed all in black and red ran over to the group gathered in the snow.

"I didn't miss it, did I? Bambi, tell me I didn't miss your thing," Tony asked and nearly pleaded, his voice catching in his throat as the thought of missing his S.O.'s holiday moment tore into him. "Sorry I wasn't here soon. I had to stop for the extra food and cake and..."

"Anthony, shush," Emma scolded gentle and reached out a hand to the newcomer.

Just as Loki did, and Tony rushed over, giving the others a polite but perfunctory greeted as he set his hands into his lovers' and happily let them fold him into them.

"You didn't miss it, ástin mín," answered Loki in a hushed tone. "It's just started."

And together, the bundles of lovers watched as the humongous fire-orange sun lowered herself to the horizon and below until she was all gone, leaving in her wake a blanket of black sky and twinkling stars and the first quarter moon that smiled on all of them like the Cheshire Cat.

At that moment, while they all held still and silenced in the last moments of the sun and first moments of the longest night of the year, the trees around the cabin appeared to shake away their snow cloaks, and bright white-gold and green fairy lights sparkled into existence. Everyone's gasps of surprise made Loki smile, and the Trickster – this fallen prince of Asgard and forgotten prince of Jotunheim – felt a longing that he'd ached to be fulfilled at last find its way home.

(Title taken from Loreena McKennitt's "Snow" on To Drive the Cold Winter Away (1987) and Songs for Winter Gardens (1995), and again on A Midwinter Night's Dream (2008).)

Holiday prompt list can be found here.

#kleenexwoman #holiday prompt list #holiday prompts 2020 #X-Men #Avengers #Hanukkah #Yule #Christmas #Loki #Emma Frost #Tony Stark #Kitty Pryde #Kate Pryde #Bobby Drake #Christian Frost #Danni the tattoo artist whom I named because the comics didn't seem to #fluff oh there is so much fluff #I hope I did well with the Hanukkah information

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msjr0119 · 4 years

Text

The American Adventure

Part 3

Prince Liam and his closest friends are sent to a summer camp in America for a month, whilst in Cordonia the nobles are preparing for Prince Leo’s social season unknowingly to him. During their time there, Liam and Drake become besotted with the same girl- Riley Brooks.

A/N: For those who have read my series ‘Cordonian Wags’, there are a lot of similar themes in this series. However there has been a mix up with the pairings. I’ve completely changed my original plan for this series. Later on in the series it will include some canon from The Royal Romance- Book 1 (with a slight twist), as well as some similarities/quotes from the film “The Best Of Me.” This series includes present time and flashbacks to the past.

Book: The Royal Romance (A/U for majority of this series, some canon will be used but with slight twists)

All characters belong to Pixelberry apart from; Lindsey Brooks, Andy Brooks, Jackie Brooks, Nate Cooper, Lola Hughes and Bethany Hughes.

Warnings: PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! Adult language, mention of depression suspicion, mention of domestic abuse, mention of character death (present tense).

Tags- if you want to be added or removed let me know; @drakexwillow @loveellamae @annekebbphotography @texaskitten30 @cordonianroyalty @bascmve01 @sanchita012 @princessleac1 @queenjilian @kingliam2019 @lodberg @rainbowsinthestorm @furiousherringoperatortoad @lovablegranny @j-a-82

Previously: Riley has been having counselling and the conversation was mainly about her time at summer camp from ten years ago. Then her heart is destroyed learning that her Uncle Bastien has tragically passed away.

****

Summer in New York hadn’t been the same over the last few years. Andy and Jackie Brooks, tragically passed away in a road traffic accident. The two of them fought hard upon the arrival at the hospital- however both lost their fight minutes apart. This tragedy shattered both Riley’s and Lindsey’s hearts. The two young women had lost their role models, their best friends. Unable to grieve properly, the two girls had decided to permanently closed camp until further notice as nobody was available to cover. Or offered to cover for that matter. Riley never went to college, all the dreams that she once expressed and shared with Drake were now non-existent. Instead she became a waitress/barmaid at a dive bar along with one of her closest friends, Daniel. Lindsey had managed to work her way up the career ladder, with Liam never leaving her thoughts - ever. Now the news about another close person in their life had broken their hearts into a million pieces once again.

After ending the call from Bastien’s estate attorney, Riley headed towards Central Park. Naturally it felt the best place to be. The very few times Bastien would visit them he had always insisted to take them there for a day out before rushing back to Europe.

After a few hours of ‘people watching’ in Central Park- Riley had a lot of time to think. To herself. The information that she had just unexpectedly received, still hadn’t fully sunk in yet. Lindsey had filled up her notifications screen with all the missed calls and texts- all Riley could respond with to her sister was two simple words “I know.”

Lindsey had attempted to persuade her sister to go to her house, so they could grieve together. Not alone. In Riley’s heart she wanted nothing more than to visit her sister- however her mind advised her otherwise. For her own safety.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“The park.” Avoiding the true events of her day, it wasn’t a total lie. “Also, I received a phone call with some bad news.”

“What now, Riley? Another attention seeking act?”

“It’s not an act. Or attention seeking. My Uncle has passed away. I have a meeting with his attorney on Monday morning.” Holding in the tears, proved to be a difficult task. Even though she didn’t really love her husband, right now she felt the need for a hug off of him. Or something similar at least. Instead all he provided her with was the gesture of his eyes rolling back and the slamming of his tumbler against the glass table causing her to flinch. A regular reaction.

“Well you will have to cancel that meeting. We are going away, meeting up with the Darlington’s. You’ve already embarrassed yourself infront of them- don’t have the audacity to do it again by going awol. I’m going for a drive.” Riley looked at the empty bottle of whiskey on the table- knowing full well that he will have consumed it all in a small amount of time. An hour? Possibly two if he drank it slowly.

“You’re going to kill yourself one of these days.”

“Baby, I’m invincible. If I do, you drove me to it.”

Not responding, she was unsure as to what he would do if she did. Instead, she decided to clean away the empty bottle and the tumbler with the residue of whiskey still lingering. Taking a step outside, the air was cool for a summers night- focusing on the brightest star in the sky- all of her emotions finally escaped. Wiping her cheek, she whispered to herself- “you said you’d never leave me when my parents died. You promised me, Uncle B. Like someone else- he promised me that he would keep in touch. No matter what. I was foolish to think that a summer fling could turn into more, like Mom and Dad. I was afraid of telling you why myself and he stopped talking when you and I spoke on the phone. Mainly incase you decided to hunt him down and kill him. But now, I wish that somehow- Drake Walker would contact me. That’s never going to happen though, is it?”

****

In Cordonia, the last ten years had been something that Liam never had expected. His older brother had abdicated the throne. Now he was the Crown Prince, being forced to marry for a political reason. For the last ten years, he had wished that he could see Lindsey just one more time, explain to her the truth about his identity. She was always on his mind, even with noble women throwing themselves at him at every single opportunity. However, this didn’t bother him in the slightest.

When they had returned to Cordonia after that summer in New York, Drake felt like he had lost a limb. As much as he avoided her in the beginning, their relationship slowly turned into something more than long distance friendship. The first time in his life, he had fallen in love at such a young age. Even since Riley, he hadn’t made much of an effort with women. Now he was going to have to inform Liam about Bastien’s last wishes. Returning to New York City.

Hey, Li. Can you come to the cabin? I need to talk to you.

Sure. I’ll get Glen to escort me. Is everything okay?

You’ll find out when you get here.

*****

Drake began pacing the room, waiting for Liam. Wondering if he would attend or not. Eventually he turned up, looking regal as ever whereas Drake looked like a caveman who hadn’t shaved in years.

“So what’s up?”

“We have to go back to New York. Bastien’s last wishes. Here read this...” Drake purposely scrolled past the part regarding his past with the King Father. His hidden past with his best friends father. The untold secrets. Unable to articulate what his true thoughts regarding the impromptu trip were, Liam provided Drake with a soft smile instead. After the events that had occurred recently, he was unsure whether or not that they would all be safe. Liam’s court wasn’t out of harm’s way in their own country, what would the situation be like in another?

“Li? If not I’ll go on my own. I don’t mind.” You’ll be fine, you’re a King. Tragedy can not occur again! Liam’s inner voice attempted to make him not think negatively. Instead of elaborating on Drake’s words, he focused his eyes onto the photos that were displayed. Photos that were taken when life was ‘easy’.

“If only we could turn back time? That’s a lovely photo of the two of you. I think that’s the first and the only time that I’ve seen you smile....” Pausing, he noticed that Drake had become mute- knowing full well that his friend didn’t want to think about or discuss the ‘what if’s’. “Do you think that we will ever see them again?” Liam queried, knowing it was a ridiculous thing to say.

“I highly doubt it. But there is one person that we need to locate before we go....” Riley? Lindsey? Deep down, Liam thought or rather hoped that Drake would mention at least one of those names.

“Leo.” Sighing, the King provided his trained stoic expression- not wanting to provide any inkling at his disappointment of Leo’s name being mentioned.

“I’ll get Glen to attempt to locate the missing Prince. Are you sure that you are okay, Drake?”

“No, I’m not Liam- okay? The one person that protected me throughout life isn’t here anymore. My family- they are non existent. And you see that picture......” Pointing to his and Riley’s selfie, Drake couldn’t prevent the tears from rolling down his cheek. For the last decade all he felt was guilt.

“That one person would have given anything to protect and love me. What do I do? I promise to keep in touch with her, no matter the circumstances. I let her down. I let her go. It’s my fault that you also lost contact with Lindsey and are having to go through all of this shit. Why couldn’t I have died instead of Bastien?”

“Because he simply gave his life up for you.”

“Li, you don’t know the half of what Bastien gave up for me. Or did for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ignore me. It doesn’t matter, your Majesty.”

****

Liam wished that Drake wouldn’t hold everything in- he knew there was more that he needed to confess. But didn’t want to force it. Glen entered the cabin, to try and help Liam locate Leo- as Drake believed he was useless and unable to help he stepped outside and took a slow walk towards the lake. The one place where he and Bastien would have their heart to heart conversations. Back in New York- Riley was doing the exact same thing. Thinking back to the last personal talk she had with her second father figure was the time at camp when she was sent to the isolation cabin.

****

“He did what?” Riley just shrugged her shoulders, she knew that what she had informed her father about wasn’t a riddle. It was quite clear. Nate had punched Drake first and had avoided punishment as he did it in a sly way.

“Riley, just go to where you need to go. I’ll sort Nate out possibly tomorrow but I’ll talk to Drake now.”

.......

Andy arrived at the cabin- they had all expected him to show up with Riley as she was Daddy’s little Princess. When she wasn’t there, they all knew where she was.

“Is Drake in? I’d like to talk to him in my office.” Maxwell escorted Andy towards the room that Drake had barricaded himself in. Everybody had been asking questions about his face, lying he assumed that he had convinced them that the ‘falling over’ excuse would be a success. Covering his face, Drake allowed Andy to escort him to his office- upon arrival Bastien stood dormant with his arms folded.

“Drake what’s happening with you? You are always falling over recently.” Riley had enlightened Andy about exactly how Drake had received his most recent injury. When they arrived, Andy believed that Bastien would be able to gain the full details out of Drake. But now his mind was thinking overtime with his best friends comment.

“Sir, this wasn’t an accident. My youngest daughter, Riley...” Keeping the link between them all hidden, Bastien gave a slight nod- knowing exactly why Andy was acting as if they were all strangers. “....Explained that a fellow camper did this to Drake. It wasn’t a fall. It wasn’t an accident. He was defending my daughter like a true gentleman.”

“Drake is that correct?” Nodding, he didn’t want to go into anymore detail. However he didn’t want to seem like a pushover to his friends. “Andy, thank you for your time. I’ll deal with this if you need to sort the little fucker out.” Drake’s eyes widened at Bastien’s description of Nate, usually he would be more professional- more polite. Now he was panic stricken that next time he saw Nate, it wouldn’t result in only a black eye.

“I think that you and I need to talk young Walker... over the years, the injuries... were they not accidents either?” Remaining silent for a while, Bastien eventually became frustrated as time went on without a word muttered between the two of them.

“Drake! Answer me! I promised your father that I would look after you. If you don’t tell me I can’t help you.”

“No they weren’t accidents, Bastien. I lied. I’m sorry.” Kneeling down, he looked into Drake’s eyes- reassuring him that he would be there always. “Who did it to you, son. Tell me.” Drake removed his shirt, Bastien gasped as he could visibly see markings. Old ones. New ones. “The Ki-the King did this....”

Drake explained how every time he stood paralysed with fear, attempting for his body not to tremble as it would result in more abuse. “He was embarrassed.... that he had to take myself and Savannah in. Every time I avoided doing noble things he would shout at me, saying I was lucky that I had him ... asking why I was ungrateful. Why I couldn’t act noble like Sav?” Explaining all of this felt like relief in some way. That he didn’t have to hide the abuse from everybody. The ‘sulky’ attitude that he had helped cover the true facts about his personal life up. Describing how the King would have bloodshot eyes, as well as the thick saliva that formed around his mouth as he spat towards him. Once he was in this rage, Drake just responded with a gesture such as shaking or nodding his head or one worded answers- fearing what would occur if he said anything ‘wrong’.

“He threatened to put me up for adoption if I didn’t abide by his rules. There are blanks, half the time I don’t remember things. But he just acts all normal as if nothing has happened. I want to leave Cordonia as soon as I can, Bast. But what would people think?” Bastien at this moment in time didn’t care what other people thought. In the back of his mind he was furious and beyond upset with the unexpected confession provided- but bit his lip not willing for his true feelings regarding the matter to appear.

“Don’t you worry about it. You have me. I will not allow him to hurt you again. You hear me? Go back to the others. I need to go and see someone.” Debating whether or not to leave him alone, Drake pulled Bastien in for a tight hug- explaining how much he appreciated him and never wanted to lose him.

“You’ll never lose me, I promise. Oh by the way Drake, I think that Andy appreciates you defending his daughter. But she can look after herself. Trust me. She’s stronger than she looks.”

“How do you know?”

“Instinct. Just like instinct tells me you wouldn’t defend any girl. I know how young men’s minds work. Oh also, Riley punched Nate. See you later, son. I’m only a phone call away. I love you.”

.....

“Hello, Riley.” Riley answered the door of the isolation cabin. To begin with she believed that it was her father- giving in to punishing her.

“Erm, Liam. You’re not supposed to be here. You need to go now before my parents see you!” Raising his eyebrows up towards her, a little bit of the rebellious Rys attitude appeared from nowhere.

“I got lost on my walk. No one needs to know the truth. Are you okay?” Pulling him through the threshold, she didn’t want him to be punished too for her previous actions.

“I’m fine. At least I get a bit of peace and quiet here.” Nervously giggling, this was the way she always hid feelings. A this moment of time, she had a mixture of those feelings that needed to disappear whilst she had company. The hated towards Nate. The growing feelings towards a stranger. The disappointment in herself for becoming a ‘boxer’ short term.

“Listen, tell me to mind my own business if you feel the need to... ‘Nigel’ as we all call him now, he’s not worth your time. Anybody’s time for that matter.” Stepping closer towards her, he removed a stray piece of hair from her face to behind her ear. Having this close contact made her heart flutter in an instant as he began to caress her rosy cheek. Leaving it lingering there, the two of them remained in silence for a while.

“You’re beautiful, Riley. You deserve better. Don’t allow him to hurt you in anyway.”

“Okay Prince Charming, no need to call me beautiful to make me feel better.” If only she knew. Liam thought as he silently chuckled to himself.

“You and your sister are beautiful young women. I’m not trying to charm you, I’m telling the truth. If he hurts you or anybody again.....”

“Thank you. But Nate won’t do anything again- I can assure you of that. Regarding your charm.... You guys are, what I suppose the equivalent to beautiful is.”

“Well I could understand you calling me good looking. But hyper Maxwell and sulky Drake?” Blushing the minute he mentioned Drake, Liam noticed immediately. Trying to read her facial expression, she daren’t make eye contact with him.

“Have you got something that you’d like to tell me?”

“No! Why would I?” Knowing she was lying not only to Liam but to herself- she wished that involuntary gesture of the blush didn’t provide the truth. “Okay, Nate was criticising me... Drake defended me... I asked him to meet me but he never showed up. Then when I found him he confessed that Nate had hurt him....because of me.”

“So I assume that’s why you did it back to him? Do you have feelings for Drake?” Asking this question, he didn’t really want to know the answer- of course he would be happy for his best friend. But he still had those conflicted feelings ever since meeting both Riley and Lindsey.

“Even if I did, it doesn’t matter. He hates me one minute- then the next he’s being my knight in shining armour. Can we change the subject please? There’s Monopoly if you wanna play... I mean you’ve already gone awol - what would another hour matter?”

“Oh... I’d love to. But at home that game is banished in my household...” Following the British royal family tradition, Constantine had also agreed that the board game shouldn’t be played.

“Why?” Riley asked whilst wearing a confused expression- not quite believing his story.

“Erm.... it just becomes vicious. It causes too many arguments. So my parents made a joint decision to not play it.”

“I promise that I’ll play fair. Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone that you’ve played...” A mischievous grin formed on her face, before reaching for the box. Liam couldn’t help but agree to play- just this one time, he promised himself.

After an hour or so playing, Liam really enjoyed himself. Having the freedom to break the usual royal rules. During the game, they became comfortable within each other’s company. Liam confessed that he honestly thought he would fall for Riley but now he had met Lindsey he wanted to get to know her more. Due to this, Riley warned him about the ‘do’s and don’ts’ regarding her older sister- then Liam did the same regarding Drake.

.......

Bastien overheard two familiar voices coming from inside the isolation cabin; his goddaughter and the ‘good prince’. As far as he was aware Liam always stuck to protocol- never once acted like Leo. As Liam left, Bastien hid behind the tree- he knew his responsibility was to protect the teenagers from Cordonia, but whilst he was in the States; the Brooks’ sisters were also his priority in his mind.

“Hey, baby. Can I come in?” Riley gestured for him to enter, wondering who would be next on her visitor list. “I know I’m not your father, but keep those fists down next time. Years ago I taught you self defence. Not for you to be a fighter for the sake of it.” Riley avoided eye contact with him, feeling as if she was a small child that was about to be sent to the naughty step. Feeling guilty for saying his words, he sighed before continuing. “Listen, I love you. I don’t want you becoming hurt. So just leave the fighting to us men if and when required.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I’m not a kid, Uncle Bastien.”

“You’re 15. Soon to be 16. That’s still a kid in my eyes. Stay away from Nate and stick close with your friends and the people from Europe. They are kind and loyal. Well the men are, the two woman aren’t.”

“And how would you know?”

“Your father.” Bastien regretted lying to her, but it was part of his duty to keep not only his job role a secret but also the identity of the nobles from Cordonia.

“Can you keep a secret, Uncle Bast?”

“You can tell me anything, sweetheart.”

“I... I think that I like one of them. I don’t know. I just. I want to get to know him better, just by talking to him. He stood me up before, I was furious but then I knew the reasoning why. He’s only here for a month, but..... I’m being silly aren’t I? I need to stop thinking like this.” When Riley began talking Bastien automatically assumed that she meant Liam - now he understood that she meant Drake. The boy that was practically his adoptive son.

“Drake is... he’s...” Practically my son. You’re my goddaughter. For fuck sake.

“Grumpy? Arrogant? Handsome?”

“I wasn’t going to say that... he seems like a lovely young man who would protect you in a heartbeat. But he doesn’t live around here. You can have a summer fling if you really want to but it can’t really be more than that, Ri.”

“I know... but Mom wasn’t from New York. But my parents have an amazing bond and relationship...Just ignore me. I’ll try not to fall for him just because of the circumstances. Although.......Liam, the blonde one- is trying to make a move on Lindsey. We are both going to end up heartbroken if we follow our hearts aren’t we?” As much as Bastien wanted to allow them all to live happily ever after, he knew that it would be virtually impossible.

“Maybe? Or maybe in the future fate will find a way. We don’t know what our future holds. But I suppose we need to grab every opportunity as if it’s our last. I’ll pop down and see you in the morning, okay? I love you.” Maybe just maybe, Liam could marry for love as Eleanor once hoped for. Drake deserves happiness after all of the shit that he has been through. Could Lindsey and Riley be their happy endings? They would be better than people such Madeleine and Olivia. No. One thing at a time Bast, get them through the summer camp without any scandal occurring first. After leaving Riley, all Bastien could think of was everything and anything that had been discussed.

****

“Drake! There you are! Where have you been?”

“Sorry, I just went to the lake. Must have lost track of the time.” Liam knew the reasoning why. Bastien and Jackson would take himself, Leo and Drake there quite a lot during their childhood. It was the place where Drake was taught to fish- the only time that he outshined the two princes in an activity.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, Li. I just needed some air. What’s the matter?”

“Glen thinks that he’s found a lead on Leo. Whilst he’s on the phone, he’s found a few numbers for the two of us to contact. I’ve tried a few but had no luck. He suggested not using our personal phones. There’s two more numbers left, here...You ring this one and I’ll ring the other in the other room.” Liam smiled softly as he passed his friend the number. Without a word, he exited the room- eager to find his brother to complete his ex head guards wishes.

****

Riley was grateful once her husband arrived home- unscathed. Not that she was thrilled with his actions, but it was better than viewing his body in a body bag. Assisting him to their bed, she grabbed the spare blankets and made her way over to the guest room. The alcohol smell surrounding him made her feel nauseous, as it had done the last few weeks. As she finally got settled and comfy, her phone rang on an unknown number.

“Hello?” Not hearing a response from the other end of the line- she shook her head believing that it was somebody with the wrong number. Or somebody’s sense of humour with pranking people.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” The heavy breathing and ignorance from the mystery person frustrated her eventually. “Listen arsehole! I’m not in the mood for childish games. I’ve got a block list that is as long as my arm and that began ten years ago and is now going to end with your number. Last chance, who is this?”

“Riley?”

The line cut off.

#choices trr #theroyalromance #trr fanfic #riley brooks #Liam Rys #Drake Walker #bastien lykel #Riley x Liam #Liam x mc #Riley x Drake #drake x mc #mc x Bastien #tw abuse mention #tw swearing #tw depression warning #tw character death #long post #read more link never works

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ellana-ravenwood · 5 years

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The Batfamily TV show I wish existed but that will most likely never be (wecanhopethough) :

I’ve been fantasazing a LOT lately about a Batfam centric tv show. Not a story just about Bruce and then the kids are somewhere in the background, or just about one of the kid, or one character of the “extended family”. Nope. A TV show, that would focus on everyone. And here’s a few of my thoughts haha :

We’ve seen enough of times Bruce’s parents murder so no need to have a scene of that again. Even people who never read a Batman comics or watch a movie/animated show, sort-of know how he ended up being Batman ya know ? It kinda became a trope, a classic scene, to see little eight year old Bruce screaming above his parents’ bodies, in an empty alley...We really don’t need to see yet another one of those. We all know the story. And for those who are not up to date, there will be hints of what happened dropped all through the show. Because it’s still about Batman.

The Robins and all though, often people don’t even know there’s more than one Robin ? Or at least don’t know how many there are really...So here how I would love for the show to start/be :

The first few episodes would only be about ONE kid, and ONE “extended family member” (Like Babs, ya know ?). My absolute biggest dream would be to have the ENTIRE Batfam represented (or most, there’s some members from alternate timelines/world that I’m not sure would appear...or maybe just as a cameo ?), and each of them would have their moments, and be just as important as the other. My perfect Batfam TV show would portray how they are all linked, how they’re a family (albeit not always a very functional one) So. Here we are. Longer episodes than normal shows,more mini-series sort of things than the traditional 40 minutes episodes. I think an hour would be a good timeframe, at least for the “origin story” episode...so, yeah, longer-than-usual episodes about all the origins of the kids and all.

First episode start with Dick coming in young Bruce Wayne’s life. We quickly understand that Bruce just came back after years away from Gotham (and that it was to train to become Batman). He’s been back for less than a year, and already started to be a night vigilante...And here he comes. Little Richard Grayson. A boy in which Bruce sees himself a lot (because of the way he lost his parents). And so Bruce makes the crazy decision to adopt the kid (yeah yeah I know “ward”), and it literally changes the way he lives. And boom, Dick’s origin story. Maybe a little shenanigans across the Manor. Dick’s difficulty to adapt to living with Bruce now, and not having his parents. Showing how he can get so angry at times ! And how he isn’t just that jolly little boy who jokes around and hugs everyone he sees ? Basically, an episode that could show every faces of Dick Grayson. Because he deserves to have a show where an entire episode is JUST FOR HIM, and how he is.

Second episode would be Barbara Gordon’s introduction. Pretty straight forward. Who she is, daughter of who, how she came to become Batgirl. Her close relationship with the Batman and his sidekick(s). Showing all the dimension of Babs, her intelligence and such. She isn’t just “a badass girl” (she’d only be a girl at the beginning), but an extremely intelligent one who’s able to turn situations around that look desperate, thanks to her analytic brain etc etc. She’s essential in a lot of Batman stories.

Third episode would be Jason’s arrival. Completely different from Dick’s. the episode would focus on the few years he has with Bruce, and where he comes from. How Jason hasn’t always been “the rebel of the family” (and how actually Dick has that role more than any of his brothers really...in this episode, probably there will be a quick mention of how the “previous Robin” is sort of a taboo subject because he left Gotham to go with the Teen Titans and Bruce is still not over it...). How he’s actually really sweet, and so SO happy to be Robin, and finally have someone that cares ? Which will explain why he became Red Hood later on...The episode would end on his death.

Fourth episode would start with Bruce being depressed, still not over Jason’s death. It would show how he became even more violent, which he has fights about with Dick...At the same time, Dick came back to Gotham as Nightwing after Jason’s death to still be there as a support for Bruce. Dick is always there when his friends or family members need his help...Doesn’t mean they don’t fight though. Bruce is even tougher to get through to than he used to. Jason’s death really hardened him further, the guilt not helping, of course. And then...Here enters little Timothy Drake. “Hey, I know you’re Batman !” he tells him, smiling widely...A few of his (baby) teeth are missing, that’s how young he is. The episode would be about how Bruce refuses to take Tim in as first (even more so since Tim’s parents are still alive by then), and would show their relationship evolves, all the way up to Bruce officially adopting Timbo.

Fifth episode : Hey is that Stephanie Brown we see ? Yup it iiiiiis !! Her story. Her background. What’s up with her. This episode is all about her. How she’s an important part of Bruce’s life, however isn’t one of his adoptive kid (it would be weird anyway...it would mean she ends up dating her own brother...). I always viewed Steph’ as an important member of the “Batfam”, but not as one of Bruce’s kid ? Like, she’s most definitely cared for and loved, but she doesn’t permanently live at Wayne Manor, and isn’t officially his ward or adopted kid etc etc...Doesn’t mean she isn’t included and not sort-of-family ! But, ya know what I mean, extremely close friends can be family too (remember : this is only MY opinion and how I view the characters after I read comics with them, you can totally disagree...in that case do it nicely, please).

Sixth Episode would be Cassandra’s. Bruce is fighting against her father, and that’s when he finds that young girl that appears mute, and that just killed a few men in front of him. He learns of her story, how her father tried to turn her into a weapon since she was born, via some audio recordings he found in one of his hideout. And he feels utterly disarmed. What is he supposed to do ? He can’t let such a dangerous person out, at the same time, she looks so young...And it’s not quite her fault, according to the recordings...He can’t just leave her there, but he’s also sure that locking her up would do more harm than anything else. So he takes her in. Ensues the beginning of Cass’ evolution (the rest will be in other episodes).

Seventh episode would be the one where Bruce discovers that Jason is still alive, and that he HATES HIM. Fighty fights fight...Oh shit it’s my son. Flashback of how Jason got resurrected and his short time with the Al’Ghuls, and a little speech about why he hates Bruce so much. Very “Under the Red Hood”, I guess. Ends with a heartbroken Bruce, and an even angrier Jason (because he saw Tim and Cass and can’t believe Bruce still enrolls kids to be his little “child soldier”...of course, it’s more complicated than that).

Eighth episode, Damian’s dramatic entrance. “I thought you’d be taller”. He tries to fight every single one of his siblings (that he most definitely not consider as such yet) (and yes I’m including Cass because I want her to be part of it all...), and it’s obvious they let him win. Sure, the kid trained since he was born...But they’re all pretty old now, and trained by the Batman too. Damian couldn't overpower them that easily (yeah it’s a canon thing I’m not a fan of...). In any case, Damian’s first few days in the family are tough af...

Then after all those origin stories, a lot would happen before Duke’s episode finally comes (because he appears quite late in the Batfam). So an explanation about how he came to get in, what happened to his parents, etc etc. An episode about Duke ! He might come in only like, in a later season (again he comes really late into everything, although he appears before). But when he comes in, Damian is less of a brat now, and considers everyone his family etc etc.

I know there’s a lot more people that are friendly with the Batfam (like Luke Fox and all) HOWEVER, I wanna talk about the “core” Batfam, Bruce and the kids and all. Family. Now of course, Kate Kane would appear. Maybe have her own part of an episode about how at first she decides to become Batwoman of her own volition and isn’t even affiliated with Bruce. Her story at her military school. Why she decided to get into this business etc etc...Probably things about Jim Gordon too. Oh, and the villains ! But really, only full episodes about the ones that are really...family. Like, Kate is Bruce’s cousin and all, but...they always kinda had their own things going on. Now as I said, she’ll appear, but you know what I mean. Basically, allies and friends will most definitely appear, but they won’t all have a full episodes about them ? Maybe a story revolving around them, and therefor we learn the essentials. Also, lil introductions to all the pets the Batfam has (of course we’d have Batcow, Titus, Ace and other Alfred the Cat hehe).

The narrator would be Alfred Pennyworth, because he’s the one constant in every story. He’s always there (or almost). First episode would start with Bruce as a little boy, after his parents’ death, training around the house, and then as the episodes unfold, more and more members appear, training with him (opening credits).

We’d just have episodes about their domestic life AND their detective life. A perfect mix of both World. And after all those introduction episodes, that would be all interesting because we all know those peeps have some wild backgrounds, then the audience would know everyone ! Now, it’s a lot of characters, so, once they’re all introduced, they don’t need to always appear. There would be episodes of all of them together, and sometimes of just two of them bonding over whatever ? Like, Dick and Jason. Tim and Damian. Etc etc.

And every episodes would talk about all the different facets of their personalities, and not only focus on stereotypes (like it’s often the case :/). Like, NONE OF THEM are one-dimensional characters. So, let’s show that Bruce is a caring man but also a total jerk sometimes, that Dick is the “carefree” one but also the “angry Robin” more than Jason is, that Jason isn’t just a killing machine and a rebel, but also very sweet. That Tim isn't just that coffee addict boy who never sleeps, but a selfless man who’s in it because he thinks he does the right thing. That Damian isn’t just a brat who hates everyone, but tries really hard to better himself and is actually extremely scared of becoming like the Al Ghuls and turning bad etc etc...Show their complex personalities, and not just boring and lazy cliches.

Are you starting to see why this show would be impossible to exist, wether live action or animated ? Haha yeah, it’d be like, 300 seasons long hahahaha. Because there’s so much material ! ...But I’m pretty sure so many of us fans would watch every single episodes.

PS : This is an “adaption” I imagined, so of course not every subtlety about everyone are in the short synopsis of their episodes I gave, and there would be much more than that. And some aspect of the stories are switched a little. And it’s only snippets, small portions. My idea would be much more worked on. I just wanted to share the little things I thought about ^^. '

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