anotheronleft - Tumblr blog

anotheronleft · 22 hours ago

Text

"I'm angry at you" Tim forces out.

It's been a long time coming, the words that have been circling his mind for years. Rotting the back of his throat.

Jason is Bruce's son in a way that he will never be. It's just a simple fact.

Maybe he could have picked a different time maybe a family dinner wasn't the place, but he was the one that spent year's of his life having to dodge bullets and murder attempts. He had to spend month's in physical therapy after the tower.

The place he felt safe was ripped away because Jason who is traumatized he hasn't forgot that fact, decided to hunt him down and hurt him.

Maybe Robin isn't a child, but Tim Drake was.

He turns to Bruce who's face is of course blank he's the one who wants Jason here yet not an emotion in sight.

Turns back to look Jason in the eye the man who's sitting next to Damian sometimes he wonders if Alfred does it on purpose a way to remind Tim that his murderers will always have something he doesn't.

He will look him in the eye he will not falter today.

"I was a child, I should have never been the exception to your rule. Say what you will about Robin being something else but you didn't care about Robin you cared it was me"

Silence it's funny how comforting it can be.

"I should not have to sit at the same table as two of my attempted murderers and pretend that it's ok. You are both traumatized I understand that but it will never be an excuse for traumatizing me. I see the Red hood and Robin in my nightmares."

He turns to look at Dick who as always is to the right of him once again pointing to Alfred doing this seating on purpose.

"You are a hypocrite who has never shut up about drying but goes out his way to kill another Robin."

He sees Alfred step forward closer to Bruce he wonders what the point is will he say anything, not likely but why move he almost asks yet if he doesn't finish he never will.

"This was your home first it still is, but I have bled and given more than you will ever know to secure my place here. So Bruce I do not ever want to partnered with either one of them in the field. You or Dick are the only options. You will not argue with me this is me laying my boundaries which I am entitled to."

He stares at Alfred loosing the blank look to let some of the anger out. He wants him to know.

"You will also never again force me to sit at a dinner table across from them again. Whatever British Passive-Aggressive gesture this is. You have no right to do. I will never forgive you for my birthday."

Dick goes to interrupt he doesn't let him.

"Bruce and Alfred have my full permission to discuss the psychological torture they put me through as my birthday present. But from now on none of you get to treat me as if I am some replacement or placeholder. I am a person with feelings, I will not be treated like a doormat."

He makes eye contact with each of them Alfred, Bruce, Jason and Damian.

Before turning to Dick for the last part.

"You are the only person here who has never deliberately hurt me, your my brother and I love you. I want to spend more time with you and I am specifically requesting that you come with me when I leave this table. We can get dinner or hang out but I need you to leave with me."

----------

Bruce is speechless.

How did he do this, his child is sitting at his table trembling and he can't move.

His child who just spent ten minutes defending himself and he is doing nothing.

Dick interrupts what he can admit is a pity party.

"Your my brother, I will happily follow you to the ends of the earth and if we leave now we can go to the Thai place that you like."

He can't let them leave he has to say something.

Tell Tim that he loves him, that he can fix this that this isn't the end. That it matters but before he can there gone.

His boys leave.

His precious sons, one loyal to a fault and one hurt beyond measure and what did he do nothing.

What he always does nothing.

389 notes · View notes

anotheronleft · 2 days ago

Note

More of "Passion for Fashion"? I want to see how Tim simps admires Danny, for the mision obv /s but did Dan had the date he wanted with Killer Croc??

"Er. Boss?" A goon speaks up, holding a stack of letters. Waylon glances up from the table, which shows their next heist's map. He pulls back his lips, allowing his sharp teeth to show much to the unease of his men.

Men who, for lack of a better word, had fallen so low on the goon ladder that they were forced to work with the one boss who could and would eat them alive.

Waylon knows that those accepting jobs from him were only doing so because they had no one to turn to. He remembers the days when he was much the same, resorting to cannibalism to survive.

However, he only ate the ones who truly deserved it, like the pigs who sold children. His appearance and temper already scared people before they heard tales of him.

The men who followed him around did so because they were once workers of some other Rouge who were busted by the Bats. Because of this, their records were stained on both sides of the law.

Felons can hardly find work after their sentences, and even in the criminal world, being caught means you aren't worth the risk. Batman was likely watching them, which meant giving them jobs would bring unwanted attention.

Waylon understood this and knew that if push came to shove, the two women and singular man planning with him at the table now would turn him in without a second thought if the heist fell apart.

Hell, they likely turned him in before they even made it to the various jewelry stores.

No loyalty.

Not to someone born the way he was. The thought sours his mood.

"What?" He snaps, making three people reach for their guns, eyeing the crocodile man with strained stillness.

"You, er, you got some mail?" The guy- at least twenty-five but as bright as a bag of bricks- says. He's one of the new hires. Three months ago, he worked for Joker before the clown figured he could use his men like a meat shield.

Why any of them would think that clown was more trustworthy than Waylon, he will never know. At least Waylon had morals and an honor code to some extent.

"Mail?" He repeats,

The goon-He thinks his name is Jack- places the bundle on the table before him. "I went to our P.O. Box to see if any new jobs were offered and found it almost overflowing with these. All from the same sender, but I can't pinpoint the address. It's like it's not real?"

The first thing Waylon notices about the envelopes is their aggressive red, pink, and purple coloring. He notices the heart seal stickers are broken, as Jack is told to screen everything before showing it to him.

It looks like Valentine's Day threw up in his mailbox.

What the hell? He thinks reaching for the first one. The paper he finds inside is less of a letter and more of a poem. A love poem. He addressed to Waylon about Waylon, and it's the strangest thing that has ever happened to him.

Men tell tales

of beauty covered in scales

But none hold a candle

to your dazzel

Oh, my Everburning,

I'm filled with yearning

Of your embrace

Covered in lace.

Waylon stares at the words with a horrified wonder. "What is this?"

Sally- who used to work for Riddler before the man had used her younger sister in one of his games- peaks over his shoulder and snorts. "I think that's a love letter, sir. Sounds sort of juvenile if you ask me."

"That's the tamest one," Jack winces, picking a lavender-colored one next. "This one was just a picture of suggestive clothing for the Boss to wear and, I think, a drawing of the designer, too?"

He passes the drawings around, and various people make noises at them. Shockingly, the one about Waylon gets appreciative hums, while the picture of the teenager earns grimaces.

"Wait. Isn't this the kid that Boss kidnapped a few weeks ago?" Maria asked, hoping up the perfectly drawn- almost a picture really- of Dan Fenton, posing suggestively on a bed surrounded by rose petals and laces. He's on his stomach, holding his head up with a hand, and a single rose is in his mouth. A sheet covers his rear, but it's obvious the boy drew himself naked, which is all sorts of horrifying.

Waylon feels himself go pale. "It is. It's Dan Fenton, the fashion designer in that stupid model heist I was lied to about."

"Hey, Papi kid?" Maria cackles. "No way! He's trying to romance you! This shit is hilarious!"

"He's seventeen," Waylon snaps, both embarrassed and disgusted. "I already told him I was too old for him!"

"When you tell him?" Jack asks, pulling out more letters and passing them around the group. The planning meeting is long forgotten as everyone starts chatting and comparing envelopes. "Some of these are dated a few days after the kidnapping."

"He-what- He didn't even know my name when I went to their house to apologize!" Waylon gapes. "How did he know where to send the letters!?"

"Beats me. Those meta kids are hard to figure out." Harold speaks up when he compares a letter to the most recent one. He squits at the wording with barely concealed amusement. Harold is the newest hire, having been one of Scarecrow's until a month prior. "Scarecrow had me look into them, only to find that besides being refugees from some Spanish country, there was nothing on them. And I mean nothing. No known source of funds, no bills under their name, no evidence of them going out for supplies. Really, they could be ghosts where it's not for the other twin strutting around Gotham like it's his personal runway."

Waylon pinches his brows, trying to get the headache to settle. It's only one in the afternoon; why was this his life? "Why was Scarecrow looking into the Fentons?"

Harold's smile is as sharp as the needles he used to prepare for his former boss. Waylon made a point of never asking his goons why they chose to work for him, but after some time, stories floated around.

The fact no one knows Harold's story makes him dangerous. At once, the humor is sucked out of the room, and the four members of the room grow guarded

"Rumor has it Bane knew their mother," Harold says in the eerie silence. "Knew her very personally, if you catch my drift. Scarecrow wanted to confirm the rumors before Bane could escape Arkham."

Waylon feels his stomach drop as Sally covers her mouth with her hand. She gives Killer Croc a look of sympathy that he has rarely been on the receiving end of. "Bane Jr. has the hots for you. Run Boss, Run"

"It's just a rumor," Harold continues, shrugging his thin shoulders. " I think you should clarify that you have rejected him in case Bane has some spies out here. You know, for your own safety."

"How in the devil am I supposed to do that?" Waylon snaps, his accent heavier now with his frustration. "I dare say I was obvious with the boy when I told him no to his face."

"Is it his age or his gender?" Jack speaks up, "Cause I find kids are more willing to forget crushes if they think it's a different sexuality thing."

"Ew, how do you know that?" Maria accuses, which makes Jack flush red.

"It's not like that! I just used to tutor this kid when I was in high school. She was only four years younger, but that's a huge difference when you're fifteen and she's eleven. She only stopped when I told her point black I was gay." Jack rubs his neck. "I rejected her about five times before then. Trust me, boss, if you tell the boy you are straight, things end faster. You are....straight, aren't you?"

Waylon has no idea how to explain it; he's not sure because no one has ever been willing to help him figure it out. He ponders the topic a little too long before Harold swoops in.

"I always thought you were an Ace in the hole." He says, as the rest of the group all perk up. Maria and Sally nod like it makes sense, so Waylon doesn't dare ask what that means.

"So, Boss." Harold stares intently at him, clutching the newest letter in his hand. Waylon feels like his soul is being judged. "Do you have no feelings at all for Dan Fenton?"

"Of course not! He's a kid!" Waylon snaps, which makes everyone else beam. It's odd. It almost feels like they're teasing him, which makes no sense since no one likes Waylon Jones. "I'll make an announcement after our heist, okay? Can we please get back on topic?"

"What about the letters Boss?" Jack asks.

The crocodile man waves a hand, "Burn them."

Hours later, everyone leaves with their assignments. Sally and Maria carpooled while Jack brought his bike. Waylon is the only one staying, as he sleeps in the old decrypted warehouse for now and watches Harold calmly walk down the street on a phone call from the second-floor window.

Curious, Waylon tilts one of the pines that was once used for hot water but now works to overhear conversations below.

He understands nothing of it, as Harold is speaking in fast-paced Spanish, but when he doesn't catch his name or anything about the heist, he figures it's not important.

He fixes the pipe on the wall again and turns around to see if the old can of sardines is still good enough for dinner. He pays no mind to the burning barrel on his left.

Further down the street, Harold huffs out a laugh. "I'm telling you, there is no need to worry. Killer Croc is not sniffing around your kid."

"You better be right," Bane sneers back, his Santa Prisca accent curling around his words much more roughly than Harold's out-of-practice Spanish. Then again, one of them was able to run to America when they were young by the grace of well-meaning coyotes, and the other had to fight his way here in adulthood. "If that fucking lizard so much as looks at Dan, I want you to put a bullet through his eyes."

"Honestly, based on his reaction to Dan's letters, Killer would ask for it. I've never seen a man so uncomfortable." Harold snickers, but his eyes become hard as he watches Danny Fenton strut by him dressed to the nines, and five stupid little girls drool as he walks by. It reminded him of days when his sister would get the same attention.

Attention in Gotham or Santa Prisca was never a good thing. It killed him to know that the family bloodline was once again putting his loved ones in danger. A small part of him was grateful that particular gene skipped him as much as he felt guilty for thinking so.

"My sister gave her life to get the boys here, Bane. Don't ruin it."

"I swear, cuñado, I'll keep them safe. Even if I can never be with them."

Danny enters a building out of Harold's sight. He leans against a light post, waiting for the boy to finish. Harold may as well ensure his nephew gets home safely as he ends the call.

Above him, Red Robin flies suspiciously close to Danny's path again. He'll have to look into that.

#dcxdpdabbles #passion for fashion #Part 8 #Misunderstanding #Waylon Jones is scared #Bane is protective #Remember how Clockwork hinted he made a life for them?#He never explained what that life was like #Danny and Dan are hidden by clockwork unknowingly #Movement in the shadows #Harold is a protective uncle #Killer croc “They all hated me” while his men are like “Hey Gob cool binder!”

321 notes · View notes