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ominouspuff · 4 months

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Kote’s House

Kote’s first house is a pathetic thing, and he is incurably proud of it. The twi’lek he purchased it from very evidently could not make up his mind what to do with a man that grinned while he haggled, but it was the first time Kote had haggled over a purchase of his very own. He had thoroughly enjoyed it.

The house is built for one being, and a compact being at that, but Kote doesn’t have much. Moving in is quick, and most of his efforts during the next few days after go into attempting ambitious repairs for things he doesn’t know the first thing about.

His plumbing is an issue, he knows. Something is getting blocked up. Somehow while trying to fix the kitchen tumbler, his fresher spout explodes.

He hadn’t kept his new house a secret from anyone by any means, but it is still surprising when Fox barges in through his jamming front door. He finds Kote on the floor in his cramped kitchen while the fresher rains water in the adjacent room, laughing so hard and so crippled with delight that he can’t get up.

He tries to explain how wonderful it is —

“I-I have to fix my plumbing on my own, vod—”

—but judging by Fox’s single raised eyebrow he knows it doesn’t translate.

Fox, it turns out, is moving into the neighborhood. Kote doesn’t ask about the house Fox already has — the house he has visited, which is very nice and fancy — or point out that Fox’s contract there cannot possibly be up, which begs the question of why he’s here in Kote’s neighborhood — except that Kote already knows the answer to that question. So he doesn’t ask.

Fox doesn’t show him any grace or forbearance, though.

“Don’t even know how to fix a damn pipe, front lining show-off—” His brother snarls, but it is muffled; his top half had to go down beneath the floor they’d pried up to get at the plumbing issue.

“So that’s what they had you doing all these years.” Kote says, because he really is in a criminally good mood. He barely ducks the foot-long pipe Fox throws at his head, feeling giddy.

He makes dinner that night in thanks. Fox stays, ostensibly because now that he’s fixed the fresher he intends to use it, because his new house isn’t hooked up properly yet to all the supply lines and power grids.

They choke on homemade tiingilar (vode-style; Kote can’t pretend at the real thing yet) so heavily spiced it’s got grit to it that sticks between the teeth. It’s disgusting, but Cody had bought fifteen different spices and while usually he likes to keep his approach to the unknown more cautious, more methodical, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do more than use them all at once for the first time.

Wolffe joins them not long after; brings a few others along by recommending the apartment he picks out, so that soon most of the complex is taken up by vode, Kote hears, but he doesn’t visit yet. Everyone’s too busy coming over to his house, it seems; filling up his kitchen and asking why he hasn’t fixed the trash disposal yet, why he doesn’t have a couch, doesn’t he know they’re all the rage among civilized folk?

Kote fixes the trash disposal with Rex, who is better at it than he is but says it’s only due to Skywalker’s influence on managing all things mechanical.

“How is Skywalker?” Kote asks, and gets more than he bargained for over the next hour. At first he’s a bit off-put, because he’s trying to get dinner sorted again and he’s not been very fond of Skywalker at the best of times, but Rex is snorting out a story and laughing and it’s contagious, so Kote just resigns himself and settles in to enjoy.

Skywalker has little ones, now. Obi-Wan is the only one that can get them to sleep. Ahsoka is distressed; she knows better, but every instinct in her is apparently in agony over the little ones’ inability to eat meat yet. She obsesses over nutrients in their diet — which, given what tiny natborn humans primarily ingest in the early stages, makes for some slightly awkward conversations.

Rex helps with dinner afterward, and they take turns being incredulous over natborn baby facts, shoving around one another in the tiny, uncomfortable kitchen.

“What’s your next project?” Rex asks at one point, glancing sidelong with a cheeky look, and Kote levels his vegetable knife at him (he’s got a vegetable knife. Specifically for vegetables. It’s a very new concept).

“I make everyone’s dinner on Tuangsdays.” He says. “I’m productive.”

Rex’s sharp-toothed grin turns thoughtful. “Yeah” He says. “Everyone loves coming here, you know. You could be the new 79’s.”

Kote knows. He plans and plots, and puts more work into researching recipes than he’s put into any research whatsoever in months. It feels a bit like coming out of a shore leave; his thoughts quicken and his excitement grows. He hunts down a market. He brings a bag. He shops, bargains, and returns victorious.

He sends out a few comms., and can’t help but shake his head and grin at how different the responses are.

What a marvelous idea, Cody. His general — ex-general — says.

Yus pls, Ahsoka sends back, with some sort of strange tooka vidclip that dances with wiggly gyrations Kote can only assume indicate excitement.

Where is your house, Anakin says, blunt and to the point, and Kote can appreciate that.

He sends the address. He cooks all day. The sun sets, and Fox and Wolffe arrive, already bickering, Rex trailing behind with a long-suffering look sent to Kote, begging commiseration.

“Ugh, don’t you ever stop smiling, now?” He gripes when Kote just grins at him.

“Nope,” Kote says, unrepentantly.

He leaves the soup on the stove, simmering, and takes his cup of caf to the window. He leans on it, breathing in cool air, and just listens — listens to the squabbling as Wolffe gets on Fox’s case for not washing Kote’s dishes correctly the last time they visited. Hears the soft thumps of Rex sneaking into the cramped room Kote has set aside for plants and the sole pet he has; a pastel goullian, fins swaying ever so gently, permanent scowl in place. Thinks he catches, distantly, the sound of his remaining three guests (Padme couldn’t attend, and had made him feel very awkward by how thoughtfully she apologized for it) plodding up the hill.

“Cody!” Ahsoka cries, coming into view and waving.

Kote’s cheeks have stopped aching from all the smiling he’s gotten used to, so it’s easy to let another through.

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wispscribbles · 5 months

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I want to eat your art and writing thank you so much

Haha well I'm always happy to keep you all fed. Here, have some old sketches <33

#ask #anon ask #ghostsoap #soapghost #doodle #my art #sketch #*throws old crumbs at ya because im currenty out of gourmet feasts*#these are from various times in the last year #but yea watch wisp's art style be the least consistent thing ever as they jump from brushes and programs due to indecision :>#some old aus in there too #kid au and mw3 fixit stuff and whatever the rest of this stuff is #nrftw doodle of ghost w the guitar #and beard too #also hi Gaz!!!! he's been randomly thrown in there to be glared at by ghost. poor guy #debated giving u some writing snippets as well but i didnt want to clutter my reply lol #im working on a fic that im so excited about #its actually making me write again pretty consistently so im happy

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coolshadowtwins · 2 months

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During the Abyss Years(TM), there was a Peak Lord meeting. The only one not there was SQQ, but no one expected him there, really.

He hadn’t been doing goo, did you hear? He has been withering away, mourning over that disciple of his. Truly, the entire sect feels for the man-

Then SQQ burst in the room, kicking the door open and looking at them with a glare. The room freezes, because this is the most he has looked like himself in years.

Yue Qingyuan is the one to finally break the silence. “Shidi,” He said, standing. “Is something the matter-?”

“Something is the matter.” Shen Qingqiu said coldly. “The ‘matter’ is that I’ve been possessed for six years, and none of my so called martial siblings did anything about it!”

“You can’t blame them for not knowing.” A new man muttered, peeking in from behind SQQ. He looked like SQQ, but different. Softer, maybe? SQQ glared at him as well.

“I am not listening to the man that had possessed me, but thanks for trying.”

Shang Qinghua started to choke on nothing. No one went to go help him.

Part two

#svsss #shen yuan #shen qingqiu #shang qinghua #shen jiu #yue qingyuan #my fic #snippet #Split Shen Au

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howlonomy · 3 months

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Might I pester you for another monster clover?

clover: just happy to be here :)

#undertale yellow #flowey the flower #clover uty #monster clover au #my art #idk if i mentioned this. but this is post true pacifist!#i have a second part to this tumbnailed out that may see the light of day #these little comic things are fun to do any ppl seem to like this a lot so!! we will be continuing in little snippets :]#i downloaded the undertale font for my last comic so now i Have to use it for this #mcau art #mcau comic

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 1 month

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Alt Assistant AU - Game Night

“Hey.”

Kara lets herself into Lena’s office, her greeting pulling her girlfriend’s attention to her.

“Hey,” Lena returns. At this hour, she should be tired, but there’s not a trace of exhaustion in the focused gaze that meets hers with a smile. “How’d it go?”

Kara grins. “I signed my contract with CatCo forty-three minutes ago.”

Lena’s smile widens to beaming. “I knew you’d wow them.” She rises from her seat and leans in to press a kiss to Kara’s lips. “Congratulations, love.”

Lifting the bag of Big Belly in her hand, Kara shrugs her eyebrows invitingly. “Dinner to celebrate?”

Without a further word, Lena moves with her to the couch. Though she brings a stack of contracts with her, she holds off on reviewing them until after their burgers are devoured and the leftover fries long cold. Kara doesn’t mind Lena’s preoccupation– it gives her an opportunity to study Lena in profile, from the line of her jaw to the curve of her nose.

“Hey,” Kara murmurs.

“Hmmm?” Lena hums back, not quite looking away from the pages in her lap. Kara smiles.

“I’m hosting game night tomorrow.” Her declaration is met with a nod and another hum. “Wanna join?”

“Not really.”

That’s another difference of this reality– this Lena declines invitations just as often as the old Lena used to, but not out of self-preservation. She simply feels no need to commit herself to something she’s not interested in. Most times, Kara admires her forthright, but tonight she can’t help the disappointment that courses through her.

Lena senses the change in her mood, and sets the contract down to look at her. “What’s wrong?”

“I want you to come,” Kara returns plainly.

Lena’s brow furrows. “Why?”

It’s not an unreasonable question– Kara’s been hosting game not regularly since the reality reset, eager to reclaim one of the few things that helped her feel like nothing had changed. Lena has never expressed interest in attending, and Kara hasn’t extended the invite until now. But something has changed.

“My friends will be there,” Kara says. She lets her fingers trace the seam of the back couch cushion. She keeps her eyes on Lena’s. “I want you to meet them.”

Lena’s chin tilts to one side. “I see.”

“All of you are important to me,” Kara continues. “I want you all to know each other.”

She’s lived separate lives before– she has no interest in suffering similarly in this reality.

Lena’s pink lips twist into a smile. Her gaze teasingly turns askance, even as she gracefully scoots herself closer to Kara. “Well,” she purrs. “In that case…”

She leans in, and Kara closes the distance, capturing her lips– still tasting faintly of grease– in another kiss.

“I suppose I can make the time.”

—

Game night is better than Kara could have imagined. In the previous reality, Lena’s first three game nights had seen her stiff and reticent, coiled tightly as though expecting a physical blow. But current Lena… Lena is on full display. All of her magnetism that draws investors in like moths to flame now brings Kara’s friends into easy conversation, her features bright and open.

She absolutely dominates at Monopoly, of course. And Trivial Pursuit. Kara cherishes every cheer of excitement when Lena succeeds, be it collecting rent or a correct, obscure answer. Lena’s clearly enjoying herself, which was Kara’s secondary goal for the night. Joining the two halves of her life will only work if both sides have fun.

The night ends when Lena heads out first. “Early meeting,” she explains, but Kara suspects she’s bowing out– at least in part– to give them time to report in and render judgement.

When the door closes behind Lena, Kara takes a moment to deliver a load of dishes to the kitchen. She can’t help the grin that spreads her features– she can’t wait to hear her friends’ approval. But when she turns back to the line of solemn features lined up before her, her stomach drops.

“What? That– things went great! I thought—” She scans their faces. Alex, she can kind of understand. As her sister, she’s predisposed to being protective. Brainy, less so, but to Kara he seemed to be demurring to his own girlfriend, on whom Kara locks her gaze.

“Nia?”

Nia at least, she expected to be receptive to Lena. They’d been friends in the previous reality, to Kara’s recollection, and her easy-going nature surely would have left her primed to adore Lena.

Except Nia’s grimace is widest of them all.

“I dunno…” She draws out the word, stretching it into an audible apology. “She’s nice, I guess, but… she’s also a little… intense?”

Kara blinks in surprise. “Intense? How do you mean?”

Lena can be intense. Kara knows this. She wouldn’t be a good executive if she wasn’t. Nor would she be able to go head-to-head in a male-dominated industry. But Kara hadn’t seen that intensity tonight. She’s genuinely confused, and waits for Nia to elaborate.

“Well…” Nia seems at a loss for words, and she shoots a glance at the others for support. “She’s, uhh…”

“Obsessed with winning, for one,” Alex delivers bluntly.

Kara stares at her sister. “You’re mad because she… won?”

“It’s more than that,” Nia follows up quickly. “I don’t know how to really explain it, but she just doesn’t seem to… fit.”

“She has nothing in common,” Alex continues. “And I don’t like how she treats you.”

“Like what?”

“You waited on her hand and foot the entire night! Like you were her assistant!”

“It just felt like there wasn’t space for anyone else when you’re talking to her,” Nia says softly. “It might just be me, but…”

“It’s not.” Alex all but scowls. “All of us felt it, and the fact neither of you picked up on how uncomfortable we were says more than it doesn’t.”

Anger starts to build in Kara’s belly, but the hurt in her chest tamps it down. A lump lifts to her throat when she looks to the one person who hasn’t weighed in yet.

“Brainy?”

His expression is pensive. “I too noticed the magnitude of Miss Luthor’s presence, which perhaps may not be well suited to such intimate evenings between friends.”

Kara presses her lips together. She takes a deep breath, then a second. Once she’s sure she can speak without her voice breaking, she swallows thickly.

“I see.”

“Kara…” Nia trails off when Kara lifts her hand.

“I know you all must be tired. I’ll clean up,” she says. Nia opens her mouth to protest, but Alex places a hand on her shoulder. The younger woman slumps minutely as she quietly sighs.

“Okay.” Nia rises from her seat, tugging Brainy towards the door. “I’m sorry, Kara. I just worry–”

“Thank you for your honesty,” Kara clips out. It effectively silences Nia, who glances sadly at her before she and Brainy slip out of the apartment. It leaves Kara alone with her sister, whose gaze she studiously avoids.

“I’m not going to apologize,” Alex states. “She wasn’t the only one in the room tonight, and she was too full of herself to see that the rest of us weren’t gelling. And you deserve better than someone who treats you like the help.”

Kara doesn’t respond or look up from the knot of wood in her butcher block table.

“I know it’s not what you want to hear–”

“I need to get up early tomorrow,” Kara grinds out. She’s heard enough. “Please leave.”

Alex doesn’t push any further. She nods, reaching for her jacket.

“Call if you need anything.”

Kara doesn’t breathe again until the door clicks shut. Only then does she release the pressure in her chest with a gasp, as the tears splash onto her cheeks.

—

Kara had lied about the early morning, but she finds herself sleepless regardless. She waits until the sun rises before she finally texts Lena.

What’re you up to? She sends, doing her best to sound casual and unaffected. She thinks she might have succeeded when Lena’s pending response immediately appears in the form of three pulsing dots.

Work, comes the quick reply. Seoul needs some cajoling.

Kara sends a sympathetic emoji back.

Should have everything handled in a few hours. Meet me at the office at 10? We can go to brunch.

Despite the gloom hanging heavy in her thoughts, Kara finds herself smiling.

Absolutely.

She’s in front of LuthorCorp twenty minutes to ten, and sends a querying question mark to see if Lena’s already on her way down. Unsurprisingly, she gets a ‘ten more minutes’ in response. Kara decides to spend the wait inside, and makes her way up to Lena’s office. As the elevator lifts higher, Kara’s stomach sinks lower.

She won’t be able to hide this from Lena. Lena knows her too well, and besides that it wouldn’t be fair to let Lena believe something that wasn’t true. Still, Kara plasters on a smile before pushing the final door open.

Lena looks up, and her eyes spark with joy at the sight of her. She rises from her seat, meeting Kara halfway to the desk to greet her with a brief, sweet kiss.

“Hey,” Lena says. “I just wrapped up the call. I just need to document what was discussed and then we can leave. They were ornery, but I’m persistent, so they eventually came around.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Kara returns. She watches Lena return to her seat and soon the soft clicking of rapid typing filled the air.

“Last night was fun,” Lena says, glancing briefly up to catch Kara’s gaze. Her eyes are bright, betraying the honesty of her words. “And your friends are nice. I like them.”

“Yeah,” Kara breathes. Her fingers reflexively reach up to adjust her glasses. Lena’s typing pauses. She looks up at Kara for a poignant moment, and Kara can see the moment her walls shutter into place behind her eyes.

“Ah.”

Lena’s gaze returns to the computer screen, and her long fingers resume their typing. Her tone is even, but the neutrality in it is clue enough that she’s more affected than she wants Kara to know.

“It… It’s not that they didn’t like you–”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lena says coolly. “I know I’m not everyone’s cup of tea.”

“What I mean is–”

“It’s fine, Kara,” Lena cuts her off, irritation leaking through her facade. “It doesn’t matter–”

“It does to me!” Kara blurts. Her vision wobbles through angry tears. Her throat aches, but with the truth hanging between them the dam has broken. “It matters to me.”

Lena’s fingers fall still. Her gaze softens as her eyes find Kara’s. After a moment, she pushes her chair back and rises. Crossing around her desk, she leans back against it, arms folding over her chest. Lena studies the ground at her feet for a long moment before lifting her chin.

“Is it something I can fix?”

The question is plain yet loaded with thinly veiled hurt, and it breaks Kara’s heart to hear it. Then in the next heartbeat, anger flares in Kara’s chest. The one thing she admired most about Lena in this reality, the one thing she was never forced to do here, was to remake herself into something she wasn’t. To change herself to be more palatable to others.

And here she is, offering to do just that.

For Kara.

“No,” Kara croaks. Then, stronger, “no.”

Lena takes a deep breath. “Kara, I can see how much it means to you, to live your life as a singular whole. And I get it– I do. But I’ve seen this before. I know if it comes down to a choice between them and me… I know I won’t be the one to keep you.”

Her voice cracks, and Kara’s heart stutters to see the sudden tears in Lena’s eyes. Her own cheeks are already damp, and her breath hitches in her chest. Lena pushes towards her at the sound of it. Her palms frame Kara’s cheeks so gently Kara only sobs again.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she whispers, lips quivering. “Kara...”

“You’re not.” Kara swallows, her hands coming to rest on Lena’s waist. The contact grounds her, lending her the strength that drained out of her the night before. It bolsters her, drying her tears even as Lena’s thumbs brush them from her cheeks. “You won’t.”

Kara leans in and kisses Lena firmly on the mouth. Then she wraps her arms around her, hugging her close enough to whisper low in Lena’s ear.

“I love you, Lena.”

Lena’s arms tighten around her waist, burrowing her face against Kara’s neck.

“You will never lose me,” Kara vows. Her jaw tightens. “Never again.”

She pulls away with another fierce kiss. Lena lets her go, but her touch lingers as they disengage. Kara backs up, keeping her gaze on Lena for a long moment.

“I have to go. But I’ll be back.” She smiles. “And brunch’ll be on me.”

Lena does her best to smirk, and it almost reaches her eyes. “Promise?”

Kara knows it’s meant to be a suggestive tease, but the nod she gives in return is as solemn as a vow.

“I promise.”

—

Kara issues only a short text to the group.

My place. Now.

If any of them had other plans, her tone plainly supercedes them, as fifteen minutes later her friends are all sitting on her couch watching her glare at them.

“I am angry,” she states, unnecessarily. “With all of you.”

Nia is the only one to quail at her tone. “Kara…”

“You are so indescribably selfish, each and every one of you. And you have the gall to say Lena is full of herself?”

Alex’s mouth opens in defiance, but Kara doesn’t give her the chance to speak.

“But you’re right about one thing– last night was a test. Lena might have failed yours… but you failed mine.”

Nia and Brainy look at each other, but Alex’s features don’t soften a bit. It only rankles Kara further.

“So what if she wins at all the games? None of you can pretend you wouldn’t do the same in her place.”

Brainy’s head tilts in concession, but her focus is caught once more by Alex once more drawing breath to protest.

“And the fact that I wait on her, as you so aptly put it?” she barks. “That I refilled her glass and kept her snacks topped up? What you conveniently failed to notice is that she didn’t ask me to do any of that!”

“No, she just expected it–!”

“I did it because I wanted to! Because I wanted her to be comfortable around my friends! Because I love her!”

Her voice rings out sharply in the sudden quiet. Kara hadn’t meant to admit it to them, not here, not now, but she refuses to take it back. She lets her scowl deepen.

“I love her,” she repeats, this time calmer. She looks at each of them. “I introduced you to the woman I love, and all you could think of were yourselves.”

Nia’s guilt visibly deepens, her shoulders bowing in on themselves. Brainy’s chin lifts, suffering the accusation stoically without denial. Only Alex remains unrepentant.

“Lena is kind and confident, and wonderful. She’s also stubborn, strong, and ruthless when she needs to be. I will not let her compromise any part of who she is just because you can’t handle who and what she is.”

A beat of silence follows, before Alex sighs.

“She was your boss, Kara,” she points out. Her tone, at least, has softened. “A boss you hated. And now she’s got you wrapped around her little finger? I don’t buy it. I don’t buy whatever she’s told you about how she’s changed, just to get you into bed–”

“Enough!” Kara shouts. Her hand slices through the air, silencing her sister, if only for a moment. She trembles with rage. “Don’t you dare say anything about something you know nothing about–”

“I’m your sister,” Alex fires back, “I know plenty–”

“She’s not the one who changed!” Kara cries, finally shocking Alex to a standstill. “You say you know me, but I’m the one who changed. For months, I’ve been different, and none of you have noticed.” She glares at her sister. “Not even you.”

None of them seem to know what to say. Even Brainy, astute and perceptive as he is, seems perplexed. She continues to glare at them, but ultimately reaches for her purse to leave. She’s done with this conversation.

“Lock up after yourselves,” she snaps. “I’ve got brunch to get to.”

She leaves them all where they sit, gaping after her until she slams the door shut behind her.

#supercorp #alt Assistant au #game night #read em and weep #got at least one more snippet on the brain #should have it up this week

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shardkn1ght · 5 months

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Quick question for your Hueso raised Leo, if this hasn’t already been answered

What’s Hueso and Jr’s reactions to Leo’s movie sacrifice?

I imagine lots of tears and a long, long lecture

I do want to make a comic for it so I won’t say too much!

But you can have this drawing I did, of them waiting for Leo/Pep to wake up.

#I have plans for a few comics or little snippets of what happened after the krang #I’ll get to them at some point lol #hueso raised leo #shardkn1ght's hueso raises leo au #hueso raise leo au #hueso raised leo au #rottmnt #save rottmnt #save rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt leo #rise fanart #rise leo #rise hueso #rise hueso jr

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envysparkler · 1 month

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Jason tucked himself deeper into his hoodie and tried not to shiver. His fingers were numb around the tire iron, more from panic than the chill in the air, and he felt like he was being turned to ice, inch by painful inch.

He could still see the cold look on Johnny Six-Fingers’ face, the reek of tobacco, the ultimatum ringing through the air and echoing inside his head.

Jason had a debt to pay, and Six-Fingers had gotten tired of waiting. Jason had one night to scrounge up two grand in cash, or he’d have to pay it off the usual way. By standing on street corners.

Six-Fingers didn’t care that Jason was only twelve and didn’t have any way to get a real job. He didn’t care that the money had all been funneled into the black hole of Jason’s mother’s hospital expenses. He didn’t care that the money hadn’t even worked, that Jason’s mom had died, wasting away with every breath, and Jason was left with no parents, no home, and a debt to one of Crime Alley’s most infamous money-lenders and pimps.

He didn’t care that there was no way Jason could scramble together two grand in cash in one fucking night.

The wind was biting on his cheeks and Jason took a few deep breaths as his eyes prickled. No. No. There—there had to be a way. Jason wasn’t going to become a whore. He’d find the two grand—he’d steal it if he had to, he wouldn’t become one of the empty-eyed men and women standing on the streets, lighting up to detach themselves from reality.

But it was late. Very late. No one was out on the streets this late at night, not when the Batman lurked. Most people in Gotham had better sense than to get in the way of a prowling nightmare of darkness and claws, lest they end up as another bloody body in a gutter.

Jason unfortunately had to sacrifice sense for speed. The one skill he was very good at was jacking tires, and they didn’t sell for much, but if he found a really good score, he could maybe bargain with Tony at the shop to get the two grand. He’d owe Tony then, but the mechanic would let him pay it off by working at the shop.

It was a horrible plan. It relied on Jason basically stumbling upon a pot of gold, and avoiding Gotham’s most infamous murderer while he was at it. Jason was usually careful to jack tires during the day—if Batman ever caught him, Jason would be seeing his own insides.

At the moment, it was a risk he was willing to take.

It was going to be fine. Everything was going to be fine. He was going to find some tires, sell them, get Six-Fingers his money, and then maybe his mom would come back to life and tuck him into bed. Jason exhaled harshly and tightened his fingers on the tire iron.

He needed to get the cash.

Crime Alley was quiet. The pubs had closed an hour ago, which left no one on the streets. There weren’t many cars here, and none of them had tires that would sell for more than a hundred bucks. Jason was consciously aware of his heart pounding in his ears, like a ticking clock counting down his fate.

Tick tock.

He had to find something.

Tick tock.

He wouldn’t become a whore. He wouldn’t.

Tick tock.

Please—he had to find something, please—

Tick tock.

He wanted his mom. He wanted his dad. He wanted someone, anyone, to tell him it was going to be okay.

Tick tock.

He wanted to find a car that was gleaming and dark and all tricked-up, with massive tires and novelty rims, and—oh shit, that was the Batmobile.

Fuck. Everyone knew of Batman’s tank of a car, how easily he evaded police and gangs and everyone, blasting through Gotham like he owned the goddamn city. And given that no one had been able to stop him even once in the last decade, he probably did.

Jason had already turned to flee before his mind caught up to his legs and reminded him that he hadn’t done anything illegal. Yet. Running would be suspicious.

He let himself casually ogle the car as he took inching steps backwards, his heart pounding so loud he was surprised it wasn’t echoing in the alley. Every fraction of his attention was focused on listening for a whisper of a cape, or perhaps the hiss of claws scything through air, his tire iron clutched firmly to his chest. He was going to get out of the alley calmly and carefully, and—and if Batman was prowling around Crime Alley, Jason’s chances of getting that two grand had just vanished, and he didn’t want to go back to Six Fingers, and—

Those…were nice tires. Fancy tires. The kind of tires that would totally be worth two grand. No sane person would want anything to do with Batman’s tires, but Tony did work for the Families too, and some of them could be interested in trophies.

If Jason actually managed to get the tires off without being murdered or having a heart attack.

He didn’t want to. He desperately didn’t want to. But the choice was between Batman and Six-Fingers, and Batman wasn’t here.

“You can do this,” he whispered to himself, his fingers twisting on the tire iron. Steady and careful. Silent and quick. “You have to do this.”

Jason checked one last time for shining claws and white eyes in the darkness, and got to work.

~#~

The combination of fear, dread, and panic helped Jason work faster than he ever had in his life. He unscrewed the bolts, kicked the tires off, and rolled them to the next alley to hide them below a stack of cardboard. It was going to be tricky to get them all the way to Tony’s shop, but first Jason had to get them off. The minutes ticked by, agonizingly slow, as his fingers grew clammier and his breaths grew shorter.

The world had narrowed down to his numb fingers, the bolts, the tires, and his distressingly loud heartbeat.

Jason, working away at the third tire, didn’t realize he had company until he heard the low growl, right behind him—“What are you doing?”

Nerves strained to the breaking point, Jason reacted on instinct. He jerked away from the tire, yanking the tire iron back with him, and shifted his grip as he spun and swung with the movement.

The tire iron crashed into a nightmare.

The nightmare staggered back with a grunt.

Jason allowed himself a split second to feel—oh no oh fuck oh no—before booking it.

There was a time to fight and a time to flee the fucking country, oh fuck, he attacked Batman, he was going to die, he didn’t want to die and the pulsing sound of his heartbeat was overridden by the too-loud sound of his shoes smacking against loose asphalt. He didn’t hear Batman, but he hadn’t heard the monster before he spoke up, and there was no fucking way Jason was looking back to check what’d happened.

Run, screamed every cell in his body, run and hide, adrenaline coursing through him and narrowing his focus on the desperate effort to get away.

If Jason had been slightly less panicked, he might’ve remembered that this alley was a dead-end before he nearly brained himself smacking against the brick wall.

Run, everything inside him insisted, and Jason clawed at the wall in an attempt to climb it, but there were no handholds, nowhere he could jam his fingers and hoist himself up. The chill down his spine grew to a sharp, vicious ache as the weight of silent regard grew heavier and heavier.

Jason stared blankly at the brick wall and felt his face begin to prickle.

He was going to die. It wasn’t a theoretical. Batman murdered criminals, everyone knew it, and no one could stop him. Certainly no one would care if he murdered Jason. Jason was dead, and every breath he took could be his last.

His face was wet, and he was trembling all over. He felt curiously detached from his body, like he was in a dream, and when he blinked, the world went dark for a stretching moment. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want it to hurt. He desperately didn’t want to feel pain.

A footstep echoed right behind him.

“Please,” Jason’s voice said hollowly, the words spilling from his mouth without permission. Everything was blurry. “Make it quick.”

One punch of the claws through his back, and Batman could rip his heart out. It would be done. He couldn’t hear Batman move, but the presence behind him intensified, and the world retreated a little bit more when a gauntleted, clawed hand settled on his shoulder

A slash of razor-sharp metal through his throat would be equally fast. Jason let himself be maneuvered, let the threatening grip turn him around, let cold and bloody claws tip his chin up to look at Death.

It was terrifying. This was the last thing many people saw before they died. A hulking outline of shadows looming above them, a full-face mask with pointed ears and glowing white eyes, red glinting ever so darkly against the black armor.

“What’s your name?” the growl ground out, distorted and echoey. It sounded like what monsters in the closet were made of.

“Jason,” he forced out through trembling lips. Dead boys had no need of names. A fresh wave of prickling crawled across his face, and everything went blurry again.

“Where are your parents, Jason?” Oh, Batman was really pissed. Luckily, Jason had no family for the monster to take it out on.

“Dead.”

Something changed in Batman’s posture, a tightening that some instinctive part of Jason recognized as anger. There was nowhere to hide though, no kitchen table to crawl under with a dog to wait out the rage, and Jason just cowered against the brick wall.

“Who do you live with?”

“N-no one,” Jason stuttered. Batman was determined to vent his fury. Well, a little voice spoke up in his head, you did steal his tires. What did you expect?

Batman was silent for a stretching moment, studying him. Jason waited for his verdict, shivering despite his hoodie, cold with more than just the wind. When Batman spoke, it was worse than all the horrible things Jason was imagining.

“I will take you to a social worker,” intoned the low growl, and Jason felt a new kind of terror rush through his veins.

“No,” he said automatically, his mind screaming in horror—at least with Six-Fingers he would just be a whore, he wouldn’t be a pet, he wouldn’t be owned—“Please—please don’t—”

“Jason—”

Jason was aware that he was interrupting, aware that this was Batman he was arguing with, but Jason was dead anyway, what more did he have to lose? “Please,” he begged, dropping to his knees to plead for any mercy this nightmare possessed, “Please, just—just kill me, please, don’t—don’t give me to the traffickers, please, I’ll do anything.” Jason had to break off to shudder through a sob, but before he could resume begging, Batman was moving.

The Terror of Gotham knelt in front of him to look Jason in the eyes. The shock was enough to startle Jason into silence.

“Jason, I’m not going to kill you,” the growling voice said, “And I’m certainly not going to give you to traffickers.”

Jason…couldn’t tell which one of those was the lie.

“I know of a trusted foster parent that would give you a safe place to stay while I look into these traffickers,” Batman’s voice rang out firmly, “Would you like to stay with him?”

No, Jason would very much not like to stay with a buddy of Batman’s. It was a trap, that much was obvious, but Jason had no choice but to walk straight into it. This was Batman.

Jason nodded meekly, and took Batman’s proffered claw-tipped hand—slick with drying blood—to be pulled up to his feet. “You can wait in the car while I put the tires back on,” Batman said, opening the door to reveal the darkened interior.

Jason wanted to protest, wanted to take his chances to run at the opposite end of the alley, wanted to wheedle his way into getting the tires himself so he could escape, but those glowing white eyes had transfixed him, and Jason’s fingers were sticky with someone’s blood, and he didn’t feel up to arguing.

He silently got in the car. The tears didn’t stop.

#my snippets #jason&bruce #jason steals the tires au #in a world where batman kills

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