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fancyfade · 3 years

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barbara gordon, bruce wayne, stephanie brown

tysm for asks ^_^

Barbara

How I feel about this character

I really love babs. It is not her only attribute, but her being a disabled superhero who acknowledges she does more as a disabled woman than she did as an able bodied woman and her life is different but maybe even better now is so important to me

I like that she genuinely learns from her mistakes and works to make things right and also like it's not easy -- when she wrongs huntress, it takes like an entire fukcing plotline or two for huntress to consider working with her again, and babs had to be like "yeah that was unequivocably wrong on my part"

I like when we see her anger or protectiveness poking through, like when she gives huntress permission to use lethal force (she says something like "do whatever is necessary") to protect tim in jokers last laugh

i love her confidence and sureness in her skills

also her kicking ass and don't forget that even in a WC she kicks ass

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Dick atm but I could see getting into Dinah as well, I just haven't put a ton of thought into the latter

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Barbara and Cass or Barbara and Dinah

My unpopular opinion about this character

not unpopular with the right people but unfortunately still too unpopular with many people but: Magicuring babs was the shittiest decision dc ever made (Okay one of them -- they have a lot of competition for shitty decisions) and they handled her way more sexist and treated her more as a victim of her joker when she was AB than they ever did when she was disabled

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

unmagicure her

Bruce

lmao poor bruce. I'm gonna try to think of something positive to say about you

How I feel about this character

Okay when Bruce is being well written he is a compelling character. When he is not continuously reliving the same three plotlines over and over again and he is allowed to try to be a dad to his kids (even if he messes up) it is way more compelling than whatever the fuck is going on right now

I feel like when he is a very principled but still flawed and human dude who wants to save people from ever experiencing what he did before and prevent the kids he adopts from being alone to deal with their grief that is good.

However in canon he is often not well written, he’s just a black hole that sucks down other characters and a power fantasy for boring dudes

All the people I ship romantically with this character

no one. i'm sorry bruce you need to get your shit in order before you inflict yourself on a woman

(I don’t retcon out his romantic relationships, but they’re not like “My favorite ship” thing. They’re just there. I think most about hsi and Talia’s interactions because of my focus on Damian/ the al ghul side of things. I write him and Talia as having a romantic relationship in the past but I think by time the present rolls around Bruce would be too resentful of Talia for how she raised Damian and I think Talia would have like... “outgrown” bruce? Like he represented freedom and everything outside the league and a good genuinely nice person at the time but she’s not a young adult who hasn’t had much experience outside a cult of assassins anymore)

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Bruce should just live with his family in a big house so i'm gonna say everyone.

My unpopular opinion about this character

okay so canon wise: Bruce's love interest plots are boring, all of bruce's GFs are better than he is in every single way and don't deserve to be dragged down by him, and the idea that he needs a female love interest to be happy is so heteronormative and goes against the entire appeal of the batfam

fanon: I understand why people want a purely "bruce is a good dad" characterization of him, but you would have to re-write so many other character reactions that I can't get behind it. Bruce wants to be a good dad, but he is often a shitty dad. When I write him I keep most of his mistakes canon (the ones that involve just being bad at interactions, prioritizing the mission or something else more, or being thoughtless, not the ones that involve him being cruel or downright abusive)

Specifically: any time any of his kids gets reasonably stressed or alienated from him and makes decisions based on that, if you retcon him to always having been the perfect dad it just makes them look kind of irrational and is always tearing them down to prop him up

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

don't forget to let the batfam be competent around him? They should not be nerfed so he can save the day. yes i am thinking of that shitty detective comics comic i read recently where everyone was like... taken out instantly by hush's goons

also, since there is no retcon for what's going on with damian: the other characters calling out Bruce on how he failed damian in nearly every way and his dumb plan got alfred killed and left Damian with that guilt and also calling him out for every time he ever hit his kids.

Stephanie

How I feel about this character

I like her a decent amount. She’s not on my faves list but she’s definitely a character I appreciate reading. I especially liked when we got to see her anger and complicated feelings towards her dad (she was glad he was dead, ran away from home because her mom kept trying to comfort her) and I like her stubborness. I like how she just decided “my dad is doing bad shit and i’m the only one who can help stop him” and then went to try to stop him.

I also like how she is the first Batfam member who tries to treat Damian like a kid

(Dick didn’t do it before Steph did but I don’t think that’s a failure on his part, I’m pretty sure if he tried to treat Damian like a kid at that point he would scare Damian off)

All the people I ship romantically with this character

I’m not sure TBH I haven’t thought of it much. I found her interactions with Tim cute when I read them sometimes

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Steph + cass kicking ass.

My unpopular opinion about this character

I don’t like it when people try to simplify her to just preppy, and I really don’t get people who praise the pregnancy plotline considering how it just demonized all the other female characters who weren’t steph to prop up the author’s agenda

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

I think there never should have been a retcon where Bruce said that he knew she was not dead all along. This is just boring “Bruce can never be wrong” shit and like okay so? you let Cass (who had very few friends even close to being peers) and Tim (who was losing friends and family right and left at this point) believe that she was dead for however long so you could what? Say “I told you so”?

in my headcanon that was purely him trying to cover his own ass

#yourlocalangryautistic #ask #tumblr games #barbara gordon #bruce wayne #stephanie brown #dc comics #child abuse cw

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kumeko · 5 years

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A/N: Written for the @batfamfashionzine! I hadn’t written an interview style piece before (and it’s been ages since I wrote first person). This was a lot more fun than I’d expected to write. (Alfred is a gushing grandfather, you all know it to be true)

Summary: Alfred Pennyworth, butler to the illustrious Wayne family. What scandals does he hide behind his smile? Watch as this investigative reporter infiltrates the Wayne Manor and finds out!

…

The grand Wayne manor. An imposing building with 2 floors (that we can see), an east and west wing, and more windows than you can count. Where the flirty Bruce Wayne, charming Dick Grayson, elusive Cassandra Cain, intelligent Tim Drake, bad boy Jason Todd, and rebellious Damian Wayne all live. As well as his paramour for the day. This day, it’s Selina Kyle (and do I hear wedding bells? Their on and off romance has been on for quite a while now).

I approach hoping for an interview with any of these elites. Maybe not Bruce, I don’t fancy getting into a catfight with Selina over him. I can settle for Stephanie Brown, who is either one of Bruce’s adoptive kids or just dating one of his children. Tim? Cassandra?

Unfortunately, no one is home but Alfred Pennyworth, the family butler. Graciously, after I lie about arranging an interview earlier, he agrees to give me one. At least, I think he does. He’s British and that polite accent could just as easily have been him asking me to go.

To be honest, while Alfred is the butler, he’s more than that too. “I started serving Thomas and Martha Wayne,” he states as he dusts the mantle in the ornate reception room. As a condition to the interview, he requests that he can continue his daily tasks. The man is nothing if not dedicated to his job. “Then, after the tragedy, it was only natural I continued to stay.”

And stay he did. While most would be intimidated by the task of taking care of a little boy, especially a little boy who had just lost his parents, Alfred never lost his stride. Aside from his butler duties, he handled cooking, cleaning, shopping, gardening, and a whole host of tasks that any other manor would have a whole team handle. That didn’t change even as Bruce grew up.

“He was very different before,” Alfred admits, pausing to show a picture from the mantle. It depicts a smiling boy holding the hands of his parents. There’s something innocent about him, something precocious, and nothing at all like the man with the come-hither eyes he grew up to be. “He smiled more then.”

I would argue he still smiles now, just a bit differently, but something tells me that’s not what Alfred meant. Several other pictures on the mantel depict Bruce throughout the years—there he is, taking his first martial arts class. Another one with him sitting under a tree, a pile of books at his side. A graduation photo. His smile is gone in all of them, a boy still coping with the loss of both his parents.

“I could not fill that gap but I tried to ease it.” Alfred sets the photos back, his eyes lowered as he remembers.

And maybe he couldn’t, but he certainly tried his best. While Bruce’s hoard of girlfriends might indicate a psychological issue that needs to be dealt with, his gaggle of kids show something else. A need for family. And while I cannot tell how much of the personas they show are just for the media, for their fans, they all seem happy enough.

“I was surprised when he brought in a little lost boy,” Alfred softly murmurs, thinking back to the day that Dick Grayson had joined the family. An orphan too, Dick Grayson had just lost everything when Bruce took him under his wing. “It was like going back in time.”

And the second time around it was easier. “Laughter sounded through the halls again.” Something about having a kid in the manor brought life back to it and it wasn’t long before we started seeing a serious side to Bruce’s playboy persona. Something almost fatherly, but not quite. Children took to him and it wasn’t long before Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Cassandra Cain joined the group.

“Jason is a wild one,” Alfred comments dryly, his hand pausing as he dusts the couch. “Always picking one fight or another. Dick tried to reign him in but there was only so much he could do from college.”

By the point the eldest son had moved out, Jason Todd had moved in. Maybe Bruce couldn’t handle the quiet in the halls. He got more than he expected with the rambunctious Jason. Not much is known about his past. Same with Cassandra Cain, the fourth child of the family. Considering how mysterious their pasts are, rumours are that they’re Bruce’s illegitimate children, from one of his many hookups.

Alfred frowns disapprovingly at the thought. “They are children who needed him, that’s all.” And that is all he will say on that matter. Maybe he’s right, that Bruce’s philanthropist side got the better of him. Or maybe Alfred just doesn’t want to think of his ward like that.

Either way, once Jason left the house (and we’re not quite sure why, but it seemed like a big fight), Tim Drake joined. A quiet child in comparison, and perhaps that was what Bruce needed after dealing with the troublemaker. While much is known about Tim Drake, it isn’t quite clear how he got introduced to Bruce Wayne. Tim had a family of his own at the time—a mother, a father, and a girlfriend even. Stephanie Brown, a girl who flits in and out of the manor, sometimes with her arm hooked in Tim’s, sometimes with Cassandra’s. Cassandra Cain also came in at this time and it was clearly a very full house.

“Stephanie really livened everything up.” At this, Alfred smiles fondly, thinking of the bright, sassy girl who people have come to love for her twitter feed. Her relatable content has made her a star of her own right. “Tim would sometimes withdraw into himself and Cassandra…well, she didn’t always know how to play with others.”

The trio were well documented at the time, and it was hard to find one without at least one of the others. Even now, the house is full of pictures of all three, most of them selfies taken by Stephanie. Looking at them chronologically, it’s a stark contrast between how Cassandra looks in the first few, stiff, out of place, awkward, and how she looks in the more recent ones. She’s learned to smile, that’s for certain.

“She takes after Bruce the most.” And perhaps Alfred has a soft spot for her for that very reason. It seems cleaning is no longer on his mind as he now takes me on a tour of the ground floor. The second floor is off limits and he refuses to acknowledge any possibility of a basement. We go from room to room and he points out family photos, taken on skiing trips and parties. There’s one of Cassandra, Stephanie, Koriand’r and Barbara Gordon at a pool. I wonder how that went, considering both Koriand’r and Barbara are Dick’s on and off paramours, but the two women seemed to be hitting it off in that photo. Another photo shows Dick tugging Damian Wayne’s cheeks up into a smile.

“Dick has been a good brother to him.” Alfred points out several photos in the same vein, of Stephanie tugging Damian along on skates, of Tim and Damian glaring at each other. “They all have been.”

Damian Wayne, the only child to actually carry Bruce’s last name. The only official child of the bunch. Heir to both the Wayne and the Al Ghul inheritance. At the mention of Talia Al Ghul, Alfred frowns. At least as much as he will professionally allow it. Clearly there is some bad blood between the two, though I can’t blame him. Talia’s family is rumoured to have connections with the mafia and other underground groups. For a while, Jason had even joined them. “It’s a good thing he’s here,” is all Alfred will say.

Despite their different statuses, the children get along with each other. Though maybe I shouldn’t call them children—at this point, everyone but Damian is either a teenager or an adult. While they might not be siblings, they are certainly friends.

A testament, perhaps, to the Alfred’s real powers in the family. He is a constant and while you don’t find him in any of the magazine spreads or celebrity tabloids, you often find him in the wings of any event, ready to help his family. Even in these photos, he’s often in the background, buttoning up a child’s coat, setting up a meal, cleaning up a mess. The occasional one where he’s in the focus, he’s surrounded by his surrogate family.

While he admonishes me and refers to himself as “only a butler”, I think otherwise. He dotes on them like a grandfather and it is very clear that they share that feeling back.

A sentiment that’s only cemented when he starts doling out baby pictures. “Dick really liked the disco scene—”

There’s a loud screeching in the manor and before I know it, Dick and Jason are hurtling down the main steps, yelling at Alfred to stop. Tim is hanging behind, his face beat red, while Stephanie is laughing loudly. Cassandra doesn’t know what to make of this and looks at Damian in askance, who only scowls. In a corner, I see Bruce rubbing his forehead, a wry grin on his face.

A family. That is certainly what they are.

#batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #batfam #tim drake #alfred pennyworth #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #damian wayne #jason todd #nightwing #robin #fanfic

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rayewriting · 5 years

Text

Violation

Fandom: Batman

I don’t know how computer networks work. So, watch out for that...

Damian has a playlist of songs that remind him of his siblings, parents, and allies (friends). He started collecting songs about his siblings when he came back to life, and after being told of Dick’s supposed death, and after Bruce forgotten him, he started playlists for everyone else. The songs on the playlists represents many things: the person, his relationship with that person, or a certain memory between him and that person it reminds him of- just anything. The playlists are a coping mechanism, a crutch that Damian leans on when the world becomes to much, when he can’t go find the people his missing and wants to see.

The playlists are secret, something he won’t—can’t show, because that means he cares, means he loves them, and that means they can be used against him, it means weakness. The playlists are what Damian can’t say to them, things that he wishes he could.

So, when Tim breaks into Damian’s private computer network, sees the playlists and e-mails them to the others as a joke, Damian gets angry—no he gets furious, throwing things and becoming belligerent in a way no one has ever seen before. Tim knows he screwed the pooch hard. Luckily the boys were upstairs in the Manor and not in the Batcave when Damian found out Tim’s little espionage.

“You, idiotic fool! You always seem to stick your noses where you and it are not wanted! This was mine! And you think you can hack into it and share it without consequences?!?!” Damian's enraged screaming could be heard from the front door, where Alfred and Dick are, as Dick was picking up some new tech for a case in Bludhaven.

“Hey, what is going on, Alfie?” Dick asks, as Damian’s yelling continues on.

“This is the first I have heard from Tim all morning,” Alfred replies, then a heavy thump and the sound of something breakable shattering resounds through the house making Dick and Alfred jump.

“You, ingrate!” Damian shouts.

“I said I am sorry!” Tim responds.

“Calm down, Demon!” is-is that Jason trying to defuse a fight? Instead of instigate one?

“That does not make your consequences go away! Get back here!”

Next thing Dick knows is that he is on the second-floor landing- Alfred on the stairs, and Dick is running towards the fight, which so happens to be the library. Slamming the doors open, he sees Tim- his back on the floor and hands covering his face, Jason standing between the youngest vigilantes- tea cup shattered on the wooden floors, and Damian with his phone in one hand, the other hand clinched for a punch and his face twisted in a snarl. “What the— What is going on?! I entered through the front door and heard screaming,” Dick asks loudly, catching everyone’s attention.

“It was a joke—!” Tim begins, yelling.

“It was an invasion of privacy!” Damian cuts off, even louder, finger pointing at Tim.

“Hey! Both of you! Look at me!” Dick instructs, annoyance creeping into his tone. When the glaring match between the youngest two end he takes a deep breath- getting his annoyance under control again- and says, “Thank you. Now, lets sit down,” he gestures to the couch and loveseat, “Tim and Jason on the couch and Damian and I will sit on the other.”

Jason groans, “I didn’t do anything. Why do I have to be here?”

Dick can feel his temper flaring up but luckily Alfred takes over, “Master Jason, unless you want to get Master Bruce, I suggest you take a seat.”

Jason pales, causing Tim to let out a slight snicker, which Dick and Jason tosses him each a look for it. Damian huffs and sits on the cushion farthest from the couch, Dick sitting next to him, Tim and Jason making their way to the couch and Alfred getting Bruce, a rag, and a broom to clean the broken cup. When Bruce walks in and takes a seat on a leather chair, he asks, “What is going on?”

Damian and Tim speak at the same time, but Bruce cuts them off, “Jason, explain,” and at Dick’s pointed look, “please.”

Jason huffs and starts, “I was reading when Tim walked in, needing some help hacking into an unknown network. He thought it looked League related, next thing I know the demon is throwing open the door and looks livid,” he shoots Tim a look, “What case was it, again?”

All eyes on Tim as he speaks up, “I noticed an unknown network when I was working on the Batcomputer security. I thought—”

Bruce cuts him off, “And you didn’t tell anyone? Tim you know better than that.”

Tim, blushing in embarrassment, acknowledges, “I know, but you were working on Dick’s tech and I didn’t want to bother you if I could ask someone else. Anyway, I know that Jason has experience with the League computers, so I asked him. When Jason and I—,”

“Do not bring me into this. I only told you one thing,” Jason protests.

“When I actually hacked the darn thing, I went looking for anything I could find.”

Damian stands up, “And noticed it was my personal network!”

At Jason’s, Bruce’s, Dick’s, and Alfred’s shocked faces (with varying degrees of success of covering up said shock), Tim’s mortification grew exponentially.

But Damian was not finished, “Then you proceeded to look through my personal files, pictures, school work, e-mails, and other things! And you sent my private playlists to other people!” After speaking Damian runs out the door and slams the door close, anger rolling off him in waves, but Dick can see the embarrassment in the slight shaking of his hands reaching for the door.

“That’s messed up, Timothy. Thought you were raised better than that,” Jason drawls, making Tim clench his jaw.

“Shut up, Jason.”

Dick speaks up for the first time, “What about the shattered tea cup? And the loud thump?”

Jason grimaces and explains, “I dropped the cup when Dames raged in here, and Tim fell backwards off his chair. Sorry Alfred.”

Dick looks at Bruce, seeing him process all the information, and says, “This was not Damian’s fault.”

“He has an unregistered network and we could have avoided this whole thing,” Bruce shoots back.

Dick’s temper finally reaches its breaking point, “After becoming Batman, I gave Damian the network! The only reason it was not registered is because Tim does not have access to my Nightwing networks from here; consequently, Damian’s did not have a name! So, there, it’s my fault!”

Bruce did not raise his voice, but did ask, “Why did you give Damian a network?”

Dick did not have time for this. He had to find his brother; his little brother that felt violated because Tim couldn’t stop his curiosity. So, when he stood, he doled out, “We can discuss that later. Just know that Damian is not at fault and does not deserve to be punished. I’m going to find Damian and make sure he feels safe,” Dick then turns towards Tim, “and Damian deems himself ready, you are going to apologize to him for pilfering through and stealing his things, not to mention violating his network.” When Dick finished his piece, he rushes out, heading towards Damian’s room.

Reaching the door, he knocks, “Damian, it’s Dick. Can I come in?”

Muffled footfalls are coming from behind the door, and Damian asks, “Is there anyone with you?”

“No, but I was thinking- you can pack a bag, we could go to Bludhaven, and spend a couple of days there? Only if you want to.”

Damian opens the door slightly, “Will the others touch my things, if we go?”

Dick’s heart began to break at the question and look on his youngest brother’s face, “No, they won’t. You know how I know?” Damian gives a small shake of his head, “Alfie won’t let them, in fact, he won’t let them come near it if you ask- or if I ask. But we don’t even have to leave, if you don’t want. We can stay here and watch movies, I can play my guitar and you-your violin, we can play with Titus, wash Batcow. Just whatever you want, whatever makes you comfortable.”

Damian nods quickly to Dick’s words, “I- I wish to stay; but I do not want people in my room.”

“I understand, how about this. I go and grab my computer and we watch a movie? I’ll stay in the hall and you can watch from your room, okay?” Dick asks, taking a step back.

“Can Pennyworth make popcorn, my favorite kind?”

Dick smiles, “I think so, I’ll go ask. Pick up some soda too,” this draws a small, barely-there smile from Damian and Dick feels accomplishment rolling through him as he gathers his supplies. In the hall, he sees Alfred and calls out, “Hey Alf, do you think you can make Damian’s favorite popcorn? We are going to watch a movie.”

“Of course, Master Dick. I will bring it up shortly. Tell me, how is Master Damian doing?” the butler inquires.

Dick’s small smile drops slightly, “Not great. He doesn’t want to leave his room; he is afraid someone will touch or grab his things. I’m going to put Hercules on my laptop, place it and myself on the floor in the hall, and ride this out till he feels safer. I’ll be right back for the snacks.” After Alfred’s affirmation, Dick begins to walk to Damian’s room, the door is closed so Dick says loudly, “It’s just me, Dami. I’m going to set up the movie, collect the snacks from Alfred, then we can start. I’ll be right back,” he waits for Damian’s acknowledgement then heads to the kitchen.

On his way, Tim is walking towards his room, “Hey Tim, you good?” Dick asks.

“Yeah, I guess. I just don’t understand why Damian acted so volatile. I mean he has done it to me, but he didn’t get in trouble for it.”

“Of course, he did. You just didn’t see it. And for the strong reaction, think about it, Tim, he was raised by Talia. His every move was monitored and reported; he could not do anything without people knowing. Hell, he slept with the thought of being attacked running through his mind, so imagine the internet restriction he had- if he was allowed to go on the internet in the first place. But suddenly it’s a one-eighty, he can’t kill, but he can sleep knowing that he won’t be disturbed till morning. He needs his own space, his own area where he knows no one will touch, in the real world and online. So, when you not only hacked into his network, but stole things from him, it rocked his sense of security and safety. Its like you know that you are safe in your room in the Titan Tower, and suddenly one of your teammates goes through your closet, dresser, and under your bed, finds your photography and showing the whole team. That is what Damian is going through,” Dick explains the best he can, watching Tim- waiting for understanding, or guilt, cross his face. When Tim’s face scrunches up, Dick knows he understands, “Anyway wait till Damian leaves his room and you can apologize and assure him you won’t be doing it again.”

Tim nods, turns away, walking towards his room, while Dick collects the snacks from Alfred and returns to Damian’s hallway. “Okay, Little D, snacks are here. Ready for a movie?” Dick asks through the door, placing his tub and cup on the ground. The door opens a tiny bit, Damian looking through slit, pushes it open more and Dick can see a blanket pallet laid out on the floor in the doorway.

“I am permitting you to use my blankets and this much space, Grayson,” Damian says, arms crossed and red cheeked. Dick felt his heart swell at the sight of Damian trusting and caring enough to allow him in the room, let alone the blankets.

“Thanks, Little D. Is Hercules a good movie to start with?” Dick asks, taking off his shoes and situating on the pile of blankets.

“I suppose. Though it is nothing like the original tale.”

Dick grins at Damian’s rebuttal of said movie, “True, but it has one of the better soundtracks.”

“TT.”

When the movie ended Damian is lying next to Dick, resting his head on Dick’s arm and sleepily lets out a, “Grayson?”

“Yes, Dami?”

“I picked out one of those songs for your playlist.”

“Really? Which one?”

Damian snuggles a little closer to Dick, and Dick wraps his arm around the teen, “’Go the Distance’ but it was the original by Michael Bolton. The song reminds me how optimistic you are, it reminds me how patient you are. But most of all, it reminds me when you were Batman and how you have protected and cared for me. It makes me feel safe, when you are not here to do so.”

Dick’s eyes begin to tear up, but he blinks them back, to have put so much thought into these playlists… it shows Dick that he cares so much, “You know, I will always protect and care for you as best I can. And I won’t open it if you don’t want me to.”

“You can, it is just…”

Dick glances down, and sees the most precious sight: Damian dressed in the cotton Batman pajamas Dick bought as a joke, his head resting on Dick’s chest, and arm thrown around Dick’s waist.

A month later Damian got an email full of songs from Dick.

#Headcanon that one of the songs on the playlist is 'I'll Be Good' by Jaymes Young #DickandDamiweek2019 #Damian Wayne #Dick Grayson #Dick is Damian's dad #tw: mentioned child abuse #No long note at the beginning #Huh #Imagine that #RayWriting

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runningonmarvel · 6 years

Text

be my valentine ch. 2

@you-get-to-exhale-now-cyrus second chapter of the Valentine’s Day exchange fic!!

A/N: takes place the two weeks before Valentine’s Day in their junior year. wonah. bandi. tyrus. a few curses. unedited but enjoy!!

Chapter 2: Hey, My Love

You've walked out a hundred times

How was I supposed to know this time

Jonah has been to seven concerts in high school, and the only one he really cared about was Harry Styles with Andi freshman year. Last year, during a period of time when he and Andi were actually getting along well, Andi had come to him begging him to accompany her to the King Princess concert. By the time the concert arrived, though, they were “taking a break” again, and Andi took Amber instead.

Jonah had gotten attached, though, to one song from her: Talia. That was the song stuck in his head while he strummed the guitar on Tuesday afternoon in the Red Rooster. It reminded him of the disaster of his relationship with Andi, but it made him think, more than that, of the new feelings he had.

“Earth to Jonah?” He snapped his neck up, bent over the guitar, and adjusted his fingers in the frets. Bowie was staring across at him, suspicious of his lack of focus.

“Ah, sorry. I’ll try again,” Jonah says, trying to shake the prior thoughts out of his head. He aligns his fingers for the first chord and goes to play, but Bowie shakes his head.

“No, let’s finish for today. You’ve worked hard, and I figure you need a break.”

Jonah nods and puts the guitar up on the stand. A text from his mom tells him that she won’t be there for another half an hour, so Jonah goes to browse through the records. A early memory of a time with Andi flickers in his mind, but he shuts it out. Every place in Shadyside, every school hall and bike path and storefront, has some memory of Andi and him. It’s impossible.

As he drums his fingers over the stacks of records, Jonah allows the new feeling to wash over his mind. A crush, a crush, a crush, is the heartbeat in his head. He feels guilty, even though he and Andi have been permanently apart for four months. Is he allowed to like someone else? After a relationship that lasted nearly four years, on and off?

And what makes it worse is who the person is. Because in a cruel twist of fate, the universe blessed him with feelings for the one person in the world Andi might be truly hurt to see him with.

Freaking Walker Brodsky.

Walker.

Walker!

The one Andi went on a couple dates with. The one Andi left so she could be completely with Jonah. The one Jonah hung out sporadically over the years until Andi and Buffy basically wrote him out of their friend group. The one Jonah in the past couple months has been hanging out with and texting. The one he now has an unfortunate, overwhelming, obvious crush on.

Jonah picks up a record and squints at it: a love song. Great.

“Hey Jonah, do you need a ride home?” Bowie steps into his line of vision and smiles at him.

“No, thank you my mom’s coming, I’m just going to look at the records for a bit. Maybe shop.”

Bowie nods and returns to the register where he empties the tip jar slowly. It occurs to Jonah suddenly that Bowie has never once acted strange since Andi and Jonah’s final breakup. He’s been the same eclectic, guitar-teaching Bowie the whole time, which is odd. Jonah knows the Macks to be a family where emotions run high.

He walks to the pick shelf, where several higher-end designs stick out to him. His mom would probably say it’s stupid to spend money on a better-looking plastic triangle; but then again, his mom would say a lot of things are stupid. Like Jonah being upset over Andi. Like Jonah having a crush on a boy.

He glances down at his phone: no new messages from his mom. So he picks out the best-looking pick from the shelf—nine dollars for the unique design—and takes it to the register. Bowie looks up as he places a crumpled twenty on the counter and pushes both items towards him.

“Splurging for a new pick?” Bowie asks, ringing it up.

“Seems worth it.” Bowie wraps the pick and hands him his change, then considers him for a moment.

“Jonah, would you… would you ever be interested in working here?”

Silence engulfs the store for a moment as Jonah processes that.

“Working here? As in… ringing up customers, organizing records, polishing guitars?” Already, Jonah has an answer in his head: yes. He needs a job if he’s ever going to be able to get out from under his mom’s harsh influence. And he loves the guitar shop because it makes him feel safer than most other places. Andi’s apartment and room used to be his safe space, when they were on good terms. But not anymore.

“Yes, exactly. I mean, you’re almost 17, right. A job would be nice, and we have lots of room for a spot.” Bowie leans back against the wall. “Plus you’d get to clean and fix guitars all day while listening to music. Good music.”

“Thank you! I—I’ll ask my mom about it tonight, and I’ll get back to you tomorrow.” Jonah doesn’t know how he’ll broach the subject with his mother, not without her yelling at him about irresponsibility and disappointment. He takes the packaged pick and slips it in his pocket with the change. A job would be so nice, and it would mean he could escape the house more often. Stay out late after work and hang out with Walker. Avoid his mom.

Jonah hates that that’s the thought in his head, but it is.

He sits back down on the lesson couch and is about to pick up a music magazine when Bowie sits down across from him. “Jonah, I’ve been meaning to ask. How are things going with you and Andi?”

Jonah stares. He stares, and then he swallows down an outburst. “Bowie, we—we broke up four months ago.” Jonah doesn’t know if Andi didn’t tell Bowie or if Bowie simply forgot, but the shock on his face suggests the former.

“You broke up?” “Yes, sir. We were off and on for a long time and finally she—we both decided it was time to put a final end to it. We’ve always been better off as friends but afraid to acknowledge it,” Jonah says carefully. He fiddles with the pick in his pocket, twisting it over and back four times.

“Jonah, I had no idea,” Bowie says. “Andi, she—“ he cuts off, stands up, and walks to the register. Jonah can see his mind processing as he blinks several times with his whole face and messes with the cash register drawer.

“Didn’t tell you?” Jonah asks softly, then regrets it. No response from Bowie, who looks like a lost puppy. Jonah starts to feel bad that he’s been left out from this crucial piece of Andi’s life, because Bex surely knows about it. That’s why Jonah has been avoiding Cloud 10 for months: fear of Bex and Cece.

It occurs to Jonah now that Bowie may be angry with him. May not want to give lessons to his daughter’s very permanent ex. May not want to give him a job. That last one is the killer; if Andi loses him this job then her curse on his life in Shadyside will be complete.

“Why did you break up, exactly?” Bowie asks, once he’s regained a bit of composure. Jonah nods, and then tries to explain.

“Andi and I have always been close friends, and while we were dating bad things usually happened because of our feelings for each other. We created drama or hurt ourselves somehow. It wasn’t meant to be, or at least it wasn’t meant to be romantic. We just didn’t work out.” Jonah finishes, feeling like he’s explained it well. He doesn’t add in the part about Andi being distant the last six months of their relationship, and he definitely leaves out the part about Jonah realizing his own bisexuality and dual attraction to boys as he was dating Andi.

Instead of responding, Bowie just nods. And he keeps nodding, obviously upset, until Jonah’s mom arrives in her truck and honks the horn several time. He waves goodbye, but gets nothing in return from the Bowie lost in his thoughts. Before Jonah leaves, though, he walks through the record section one more time and returns back to the section where he found the love song earlier. He searches through the old love songs until he finds Be My Baby by the Ronettes. Dragging his fingers over the rough record slip, Jonah thinks about the various songs he’s written about Andi over the years. The first one was here, on the stage over to the right, back in simpler days.

Jonah slides the record back into the stacks and walks towards the door. It’s time to let past things end; he can’t keep being haunted by the memory of Andi. His feelings have already moved on, leaving only guilt and the finality of breakup behind. How is he supposed to fall for someone else when this entire town used to belong to him and Andi? Still, as he exits the Red Rooster, an idea starts to form in his head.

An idea that would show his crush and himself that he was over Andi. An idea that would say, with no regrets: I like you, Walker Brodsky. No one else.

That you wouldn't call

That you wouldn't come home

————

On Wednesday morning, Cyrus is tired and already over the week. He was up late last night talking to TJ, then realized he’d forgotten to do his Bio homework. So after scrawling down some answers about mitosis and phases, Cyrus had fallen into a fitful sleep which hadn’t lasted over six hours.

Andi and Buffy are nowhere to be found before homeroom, so Cyrus goes to his locker alone. TJ has math tutoring on Wednesday mornings, so he won’t miss basketball practice in the afternoons, and he usually arrives just in time for homeroom. Meaning Cyrus is alone. He could look for Jonah, but Jonah has been disappearing in the mornings as of late.

When he arrives at his locker, though, Cyrus stops and blinks twice. Tied between the holes in the blue metal and dangling against the locker is a pair of bright green roller skates.

Roller skates?

Cyrus looks around, thinking maybe someone conveniently dropped their roller derby or Wednesday night skate shoes on his locker. But it’s early, and the hallways are mostly empty. So Cyrus approaches the shoes carefully, lifting one up to inspect it.

Not only are they bright green, his favorite color, but there are tiny dinosaur stickers stuck all across the plastic shoe. He gives the wheels a loose spin, determining that they’re aesthetically pleasing but not necessarily the most supportive nor safe pair of skates. Still, Cyrus stares down at them. They’re clearly for him, but who would leave him roller skates? Andi and Buffy?

“Hello?” Cyrus calls down the hall, just in case anyone left them and tried to run away. Iris looks up and waves at him from where she was gazing at her phone intensely. He nods at her, distracted; it couldn’t have been Iris. They barely speak except in history class, and somehow Iris has become better friends with Andi than Cyrus.

When no one else responds, Cyrus looks back down at the roller skates. Several memories flash in his mind, of skating with the Good Hair Crew when they were younger, of learning to actually skate with TJ, of Andi’s roller-skating birthday a few years ago. Cyrus knows how to skate—right? And if the skates are here, then he should probably wear them—right? Feeling slightly like an idiot, Cyrus unties the skates from his locker and slides his feet into the left, and then the right. He holds onto the locker as he tries not to slip. The hallway is completely empty now; Iris has run off somewhere. So Cyrus gets his balance while gripping the locker, inhales slowly, and remembers when TJ taught him to skate.

Distribute your weight evenly over the sole so you won’t fall over immediately. Use the brake if you need it, but you need it way less than you think you do. Skate in strides, like walking. Focus, and keep breathing. Your instincts will kick in.

Cyrus focuses, and he steps away from the locker. Stride left, stride right. And then the instincts take over, just like TJ told him they would. Cyrus is flying over the linoleum tiles, and he catches his breath. He can do this. He can do this. He can—

As the wheel catches on a stray book left in the hallway, another memory comes back to Cyrus: Jonah Beck trying to teach him to skateboard.

Cyrus feels his legs flailing beneath him as the wheels slide backwards. His knees hit the floor in a second. The ground has nearly reached his face when he feels an arm around his stomach stop the fall, pull him backwards, and leave him standing straight up.

“Cyrus?” He relaxes, realizing who it is.

“TJ!” Cyrus tries to spin in a circle, but he nearly slips again. TJ puts one steady arm around his waist and the other on his arm so he won’t fall. “Thanks for catching me,” Cyrus says sheepishly.

“I’m always there to catch you, Cy—but what’s with the roller skates? Joining roller derby?” TJ looks genuinely confused, his eyebrows drawn together in concern and his lips slightly pursed.

“Um. I don’t know who left them, but they were there. So yeah, I decided to try them out,” Cyrus says, which sounds like a bad explanation but is the truth.

“Okay, well, are you going to skate to homeroom now?” TJ asks, adjusting his math books under his arm.

“Oh, absolutely not,” Cyrus says. Over TJ’s shoulder he sees Buffy walking down the hallway, without Andi or Jonah. He waves, and she waves back, eyebrows raised at the skates. He leans forward, and feels his knees protest. “Nope, that’s not gonna work. I think I’ve broken my knees.”

Concerned, TJ glances at Cyrus’s legs. “Aw, Cy, you’ve got bruises all over. You’ve got to go the nurse.”

“I’ll take him!” Buffy chirps, reaching out to take Cyrus’s hand.

TJ stops her for a moment, pulls Cyrus back into a kiss, and then pushes him into Buffy’s arms. “Take good care of him, Driscoll.”

Buffy rolls her eyes. “I always do.” She takes Cyrus by the arm, positions him in front of her, and holds tight to his arms. “Let’s go, Goodman.”

Cyrus giggles, then shuts his mouth. “Did you leave these? Did Andi?”

Buffy shakes her head, and Cyrus considers that. She could be pretending, but both she and TJ had seemed genuinely shocked by the appearance of electric green roller skates on his feet. Strange.

Buffy manages to push him all the way to the nurse, then runs off to homeroom once he’s situated soundly in a waiting chair. After unlacing the skates and tying together the laces, Cyrus places them in his lap and settles back into the chair. His knees are bruised and aching as he waits, but he’s still warm inside from TJ’s kiss.

Suddenly, Cyrus hears someone slide into the seat next to him. He looks up to see Walker, who he hasn’t seen in months.

“Cyrus, hey,” Walker says. He rubs the back of his neck, and his eyes look tired. Cyrus waits, but Walker remains on the edge of his seat, meaning he’s here with a purpose. “Listen, I have a strange question.”

“Okay…” Cyrus says, running one hand over the plastic surface of the skates. “First—how are you? We haven’t talked in a while.” Walker nods. “Busy. I’ve got a big studio project due next Friday, and I want it to be part of my portfolio. How’s everyone?”

Swallowing Cyrus tugs on the laces of the skates. He knows that when Buffy ended things with Walker, he basically lost his main friend group. Walker and Amber seem to hang out a lot, but Amber almost never mentions him. There’s Natalie and Archie in Walker’s studio class, who Cyrus thinks he’s friends with. But he doesn’t know how Walker’s doing, not really.

“They’re fine. The usual.” “Yeah. Um, the question is—it’s—“ Walker stops himself, and Cyrus can hear the nervous beat of his foot against the tile. “Do you know if Jonah likes boys?”

Cyrus closes a hand around the knot on the laces. He’s suddenly aware of the heartbeat in his chest—did Walker just come out to him? No. But still—

“I’m not sure. He’s never said he has, you know—“ “Yeah, okay,” Walker says, and Cyrus hears the hitch in his breath as he gets to his feet.

“Walker, wait. He hasn’t said it, but neither had TJ the whole time I knew him. I thought he was the most heterosexual boy on the planet until he randomly came out to me. The point is—we don’t know,” Cyrus says, almost all in one breath.

Walker is silent.

“And,” Cyrus says, “Jonah is one of the most accepting people I know. He’ll be completely chill about it, I promise.”

“Okay.” Walker looks worried, and Cyrus remembers a similar feeling a year and a half ago when he was worrying if TJ would stop being friends with him if Cyrus admitted his crush. The anxiety had been real and consuming; every time Cyrus was with TJ, there was a voice in his head screaming: YOU HAVE A CRUSH YOU HAVE A CRUSH YOU HAVE A CRUSH. Cyrus understands.

“I didn’t know you and Jonah were friends,” Cyrus says carefully. Walker nods slowly.

“We have been for a couple months. We’ve known each other since… you know.”

Since Andi introduced us and then chose Jonah over me. That would be the implied instance.

It occurs to Cyrus that Walker liking Jonah of all people is quite ironic. But he doesn’t say that; he would be a hypocrite, anyway. He was the one dating for TJ Kippen, the boy his best friend used to hate.

“Listen, Walker. I think you should ask him to the dance. See how it goes. Jonah’s kind, and he’d be lucky to have you.”

Walker inhales sharply, and then he nods. Good luck, Cyrus thinks, but he doesn’t say it. Walker Brodsky has always been an enigma, and feelings for Jonah Beck are just another thing to add to the pile. Cyrus has had his suspicions about Jonah possibly liking not only girls, and now, it seems, they’ll all find out.

As Walker stands and walks away, Cyrus thanks his lucky stars that his crush on Jonah Beck went away—it’s kind of boring liking the boy everyone else does, isn’t it?

He gives the green roller skates one last once-over before rising to his battered knees and stumbling into the nurse’s office.

————

A cold wind knocks at Buffy’s window, and she glances out into the darkness. Math homework waits unfinished on her desk, but Buffy is sitting on her bed, legs swinging and mind racing. She plays back a series of moments in her head: the encounter with the Valentine’s Day banner, Cyrus’s text asking for help with TJ, Andi’s purposeful avoidance of her in the mornings and after school.

The wind blows harder, and Buffy grits her teeth. A note from her mom flutters where it is pinned to the bulletin board: a scrawl she left on top of a soup can for Buffy to find a few days after she left. The note reads: You are strong because you are kind, and you are kind because you are strong. I love you. Mom.

She left a week ago for Japan, and Buffy is alone again. Her father is at work, as usual. Buffy doesn’t know if Andi will answer her calls, and if she does, Buffy doesn’t know how she would act—the feigned normalcy from the past year or the new uncomfortableness? She can count on Cyrus, sure, except that he’s always busy with TJ.

So instead of reaching out to anyone, Buffy groans and sort of rolls onto the floor. After stretching out her legs sore from track, she flattens herself on her stomach to look under the bed. A minute of digging her hand around yields the scrap of fabric she’s looking for: a slightly battered pride flag, colored with the blue, purple, and pink of bisexuality.

Buffy glares at it.

This is what’s messing up her life right now. Her stupid feelings. And she can’t even show it in public, or rant to her mom about them, or talk to other LGBT people about confusing signals from possibly straight people. Buffy has told both Andi and Cyrus—Cyrus ordered her the flag. But no one else, so the symbol of her identity just sits untouched beneath her bed.

She runs a hand over the different stripes. When Buffy was ten years old, she wasn’t interested in anyone, girl or boy. Ten year-old Buffy would have thought the flag was made up of lots of pretty colors. When she turned thirteen, she was conscious that who she liked made a difference in who she was, at least for the outside world.

And then she had a tiny crush on Walker, until he tried to ask her to formal with a cult. So Buffy was convinced she was straight even at the beginning of her relationship with Marty, because it was crystal clear in her mind: she liked a boy. Cyrus liked a boy, so he was gay. She liked a boy, so she was straight.

Until the lines weren’t so clear cut anymore.

Like the colors of the flag, blurring into each other so her contact-less self wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between them. Buffy knew what it was like to like a boy. What she didn’t know—yet—was what it was like to like a girl. Until.

When Buffy talks about Marty now, she thinks of him in flashes. First: tentative friends, running partners again, cross country teammates as freshman year dawned. Next was that one time they held hands in the movies and never mentioned it again. Then came the pining and the realization she liked him. She liked him. Next was stress and worry and texting all night until one day they were sitting on the ground in Buffy’s room, right where she’s sitting now, and Marty leaned all the way in to kiss her. Then was dating bliss, then more worry, then breakdown. Buffy tried not to think about those phases, about which parts were her fault and which were out of her control.

Buffy also tries not to think about what happened two months after she hung up on Marty and ran to his house, crying, because they had to break up. Marty had disappeared from her life once again; only the ghost memory of him remained, haunting her runs. Marty from the party: her first kiss, her first love, her first true breakup: almost every first.

Almost.

What he could never be, though, was the first girl.

The realization developed starting midway through freshman year, and it just kept coming back to her. Girls. Girls. Girls. It was like running into a wall over and over again, and that wall was the poster of Fifth Harmony pinned across from her bed. That wall was Hayley Kiyoko’s music being constantly stuck in her head. That wall was the stick in her throat when playing ‘Never Have I Ever’ and Cyrus declared ‘Never have I ever been straight.’

Once she realized it fully, and she could say the word with reasonable calm, it was easy to make the same choice Cyrus had. Actually, it was the opposite of easy. But it felt natural, when she said the two words together. She even told Marty, who told her confidentially he was too, and they bonded over it. The flag came along soon after as a gift from Cyrus. Her spirit was all there: she had the right realization, coming out journey, and self-acceptance.

But sophomore year—that was something Buffy could consider later. She flips the flag over between her hands until she feels centered, and then she slides it beneath her bed again. From across the room, her phone dings with a new message, which she steps to her feet to answer.

GHC fools

kingofthebabytaters: yo gays

kingofthebabytaters: guys*

Buffy makes a note to throw something at him at some point.

kingofthebabytaters: do you think the plan for tj is good??

kingofthebabytaters: I feel like it’s too extra but also not extra enough you know

andicrack: okay back up I thought we were set on signs

kingofthebabytaters: we aRe! but like is that special? andicrack: you made homemade signs that a bunch of ppl are gonna hold up. uh, yeah it is cy

notavampireslayer: yo goodman don’t doubt your excellent plan

kingofthebabytaters: excellent plans don’t always work out

andicrack: name one time—oH are we talking about 8th grade

notavampireslayer: this better not be about that freaking CULT

kingofthebabytaters: the point is I really want TJ to love it

andicrack: maybe perhaps I was buffy

andicrack: HE WILL

andicrack: stop stressing cy guy

kingofthebabytaters: you sound like jonah

andicrack: ew

notavampireslayer: your Valentine’s Day will be great Cyrus I assure you

Buffy puts her phone down for a second to consider this. How is Cyrus, of all people, stressed out about Valentine’s Day? He has a boyfriend, and not a recent one either. He basically has a guaranteed good day. The last time Buffy celebrated Valentine’s Day for real was with Marty, and that was on the back half of their relationship. Tension was building. What she wouldn’t give for one good Valentine’s Day, when the person she likes likes her back completely.

She’s not supposed to be jealous of Cyrus having a relationship, but she might be, which sounds needy but might be the truth. Does Andi have a valentine? She thinks of Amber, feeling a pang of—something—and turns her phone over in her hand. She’s doing the Andi thing where she hides her feelings from herself if she doesn’t like that she’s feeling them. She learned it from the best, like maybe if she doesn’t acknowledge them, they’ll go away. Buffy taps the back of her phone with her hand; she knows her feelings won’t go away.

Rolling over on her bed, Buffy opens her phone to Netflix. Since it’s the week before Valentine’s Day, sad hours, and even more specifically sad gay hours, Buffy starts to turn on Love, Simon. Before she can, though, the ringtone of her phone interrupts the logos. It’s not a text but a call from a FaceTime number. Buffy swallows as she stares at the screen, trying to decide if she wants to pick up.

Who is she trying to trick? The phone is in her hand and the accept button pressed within two seconds.

“Hey, Buffy,” Andi says from the screen. She pushes a piece of bangs back from her eyes and smiles up at Buffy.

“What’s up?” “Just wanted to talk. See how you are,” Andi says, which sounds like a weak reasons anyways but even weaker coming from Andi, who never seems sure of herself anymore.

“I’m good…” Buffy says, then gets mad at herself for being boring. “I’ve just been thinking about freshman and sophomore years, you know. Reminiscing.” Andi nods along, and the two discuss school, friends, food, preferences, and the origins of Valentine’s Day (which happens to be the execution of two men during the Roman Empire). Buffy ends up modeling her two different options for a dragon costume (don’t ask), and Andi brings the phone downstairs so Buffy can say hello to Bex and Bowie.

An hour and a half later, Buffy can feel her eyelids drifting closed but doesn’t want to stop talking. It’s been a good several months since they have really talked like this—and it’s been a year since they’ve talked for so long with a comfortable ease. Everything dates back to one year ago, to what Buffy regrets every day and doesn’t regret at all. Her mother would tell her to ignore the regrets and just live, which is exactly what she’s trying to do. But Andi and her complicated feelings always make things hard, just like they did with Jonah. Buffy knows, somewhere, that the complicated feelings aren’t just from Andi; they’re from her too. But it’s easier to blame the problem that’s on the surface rather than the problem deep inside of her.

Because the problem deep inside is related to a word Buffy has only heard therapists say with meaning: commitment. And the second issue has to do with the flag underneath her bed.

But Buffy has her mom and Cyrus and yes, Andi, to worry about, so she doesn’t think about these things.

“So Buffy,” Andi says, slicing through her thoughts. “Is Marty dating someone right now?” “He’s dating Eleanor,” Buffy says as quickly as possible, then stops. Andi’s jealousy of Marty is an idea she can get behind, if it gives her any leverage.

“Yeah? What happened to Ross?”

Buffy laughs, only because Marty’s first boyfriend was a crackhead who he loved too much. Of course Ross broke Marty’s heart. “Ross is long gone.”

Andi nods, slowly. Then she says what Buffy thinks she’s wanted to say all this time: “I think Jonah likes someone else.” I think you like someone else, Buffy thinks, but she shuts herself up. “Who? Amber?”

Andi laughs. “Hopefully not, since she’s definitely a lesbian.”

“Jonah has a history of bad crushes.” Ouch.

“Jonah can like whoever he wants, I don’t care. I hope he has a good Valentine’s Day. WIthout me.” Andi looks very pleased with herself, which she honestly should be. On-again-off again Jonah and Andi had lasted multiple years and in a year alone had undergone seven separate disasters (Buffy counted). And yet, here she is, four months later, still a little caught up on him.

Jealousy stings.

“Good to know you’re being civil about it, Andi,” Buffy replies, not really paying attention.

“Oh, I am. Libby and I still have plans to form a club: the ex-Jonahs.” “Form that club and I may have to block your number and burn my phone for good measure.” Andi giggles.

“Wow, we’re really bad with boys, huh?” Andi asks, tilting her head to the side.

“Girls too,” Buffy agrees, and Andi smiles a tiny smile. Buffy thinks of the flag and counts to three the different shades until she’s calm again. But when Andi smiles, with that gorgeous smile and brilliant eyes—

Time to shut this down before it got away from her.

“Look at us,” Andi says, her chinks blushing pink. “Single on Valentine’s Day. Maybe we should go to the dance together. After all, Cyrus abandoned us by getting a boyfriend. We’re the same as we’ve always been.”

As Buffy nods along to agree that yes, they should go to the dance together, yes, it would be extremely fun, and yes, Cyrus is now an official traitor to the Good Hair Crew and they need to hold auditions for a replacement immediately, she turns over that statement in her head like she had the note from her mom and the flag.

Somewhere around 12:42 am, Andi whispers a goodbye from the relative darkness of her room. Buffy mumbles one back, blinking sleepy tears from her eyes and waving with a slightly glowing hand. Andi waves back, and neither of them hang up until Buffy feels her eyes actually drift shut and finally does. She falls asleep in the next minute with Andi stuck in her mind, playing on repeat next to the words Valentine’s Day and dance.

On the other end, Andi stays awake until an even more ungodly hour, mostly staring at her window and wondering. Wondering how she can have messed up something so badly yet be lucky enough not to have ruined everything. Wondering if Jonah will ever return her third favorite sweatshirt. Wondering if Buffy is asleep now or laying awake thinking. Wondering whether every decision she makes is a massive mistake or a useless choice. Wondering how she’s going to get through this.

We’re the same as we’ve always been.

But they’re not. The unspoken between them is a living, breathing thing: one year old. Andi remembers the day; how could she not? Buffy may think Andi has forgotten it; she hasn’t. The reason sticks in her head every day: the reason for the tension, the reason for the discomfort, the reason for a year of needless separation.

It’s just a reason Andi can never even begin to acknowledge.

And so she doesn’t.

#andi mack #am gift exchange #valentines exchange #friendom gift exchange #wonah #bandi #tyrus #writing #fanfic

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fantasticworldoffanfics · 7 years

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TOP FAVS (PETER/STILES)

Fandom: TeenWolf

Naught Hookers (Swathed In Wool) Series

Author: pprfaith

Part 1: Hook, Yarn, Sinker

Summary: Stiles is happy with his store, his hobbies, his friends. Peter's just trying to figure out how to raise his nieces and nephew without fucking them up too badly.Paths cross.

Part 2: Easy Like

Summary: ... Sunday morning at the Hale/Stilinski house.

Part 3: The Stiles Watch

Summary: Yarnsome is Jackie's favorite store. Stiles is her favorite store owner and sometimes, maybe, potentially stalkee. Just a little. In a nice way. Really.

Part 4: Care And Feeding

Summary: Remember Amy, the paralegal, who gets mentioned in Hook, Yarn, Sinker exactly once? This is her take on the Hales. Set two years after the end of HYS.

Part 5: Tangled Mess

Summary: Ink and yarn have always been what holds this mess of a family together.

Part 6: String Theory

Summary: It's been two years, Stiles has accepted that he needs a bigger store, Allison needs a career, Jennifer needs new friends, Peter needs some sanity and obviously all of them need more knitwear. Because Duh.

Part 7: Over The Rainbow

Summary: Dani refuses to like rich white girl Cora Hale. She won't! (She fails.)

If We Could Start Again

Author: kiranightshade

Summary: Stiles finds Peter. Scott doesn't exist. And Erica just wants her best friend to be safe. OR Stiles visits Peter in hospital meets Stiles gets bitten instead of Scott with a detour to Polish heritage Stiles Stilinski.

Get The Facts Straight

Author: Udunie

Summary: “Is there a problem, sir?” the boy asked him, with a note in his voice that said ‘there better not be.’ Oh. Interesting.Peter bit back the instinctive ‘Are you sure you’re in the right place?’ on his tongue...Yeah, no. He wouldn’t be that cliche, thank you very much... he prefered to leave dynamism to the plebs.“Sti… how do you pronounce that?” he asked finally, making the kid’s eyes go round with surprise. He went red as every single person turned to look at him, and Peter tried to act like he didn’t find it charming.“Um. It’s Stilinski. Stiles Stilinski.”Peter nodded and made the checkmark.This would be an interesting year.

I Love You And Hate You So Much

Author: Niecy8

Summary: In a nutshell - Stiles family pretty much deserts him and he is forced to go live with Talia Hale. Her brother, Peter Hale shows up unexpectedly one day and takes a keen interest in Stiles.

Stiles Stilinkski - New Kid

Author: Triangulum

Summary: Peter makes it a point to know who every student at Beacon Hills High School is. Even if they're completely unremarkable, he likes to know the basics about them. He's a senior, still a child according to his sister, but he's tapped to be her right hand, her enforcer. It's his job to know about everyone that could be a potential threat. She calls him paranoid, he calls it practicing. So when a new student comes, the first in a long time (in years really. No one moves to Beacon Hills.), Peter pays attention.

The one where Stiles is a new student and Cora's new best friend. Derek is traumatized after Paige, Peter's trying to keep his pack safe, and why does Stiles smell so weird?

Growing Up, Growing Strong

Author: cywscross

Summary: Stiles is adopted by the Hales.

Loan Wolves

Author: veterization

Summary: At seventeen, Stiles' mother dies, and suddenly, with bills piling up, Stiles and his father are in financial straits. Enter Peter Hale, the loan shark

Little Boy Blues

Author: Bam4Me

Summary: Stiles is tiny and cute, pack is protective, that's all you need in life.

Kismet

Author: cywscross

Summary: They meet in the hospital, two broken souls with nothing left to lose.It's the best thing to ever happen to either of them.

A Match Made In The Room Adjacent To Heaven

Author: RebaK1tten

Summary: Talia tells Peter that if he doesn't find a mate himself, she has candidates for a match.“You’re such a drama queen, Peter. You’re my favorite brother and ideally, I’d like you to find true love, to find your true mate and raise a family and be happy forever. But at this point, you need to find someone you can tolerate to be mated with, who tolerates you and benefits the pack.”

The Unexpected Marriage of Peter Hale

Author: moonstalker24

Summary: This is the story of how Peter gets married without technically dating anyone.“You can bring your boyfriend with you,” Talia says. Peter stops giving Henry more bits of dried fruit to stare at his sister “Boyfriend?” “Of course!” Talia gestures at Stiles who looks around behind him with wide eyes. “I’m sure the whole family would be interested in meeting your young man.”

To Save Them All

Author: Goldenpetal13

Summary: Something happens, something bad, and Stiles finds a way to go back in time to change the past and save them all, to give them a future. He finds the way back and then swaps places with Scott and he gets bitten by Peter instead. Now he has to change the events that where set in motion after that event and maybe, just maybe they’ll all get to live.

This Time Around

Author: Green, orphan_account

Summary: Stiles is a seer dreaming about a pack of werewolves who die in a fire; Peter is a begruding packmate who doesn't really feel like part of the family.When Stiles finally crosses the line and changes the Hales' history forever, the two of them start up their own story.

Closet Commandeerer Series

Author: BeautyOnFyre

Part 1: The Shirt Thief

Summary: Stiles knew, in the back of his mind, that this was really par for the course. He acknowledged to himself that it was only a matter of time before his luck (which is usually nonexistent) ran out and he found himself stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Or just strung up in a tree by his ankle. That counted too.

Part 2: Still The Shirt Thief

Summary: Stiles wasn't quite like the rest of the Hales.He was a werefox. A werefox that had never changed from his fox form for as long as the Hales had known him. And also a werefox that absolutely hated going to see the doctor.

Pure As Driven Snow

Author: RenSweets

Summary: It was a stroke of Luck Peter found him. It is Stiles lack of Luck that continues to harm him.

even more top favourites

top favourites, part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

#teenwolf #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfics #fanfic rec #steter #peter hale #stiles stilinski #topfavs

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batreyn · 8 years

Text

Batbro fic

Title: Babysitting Blues Rating: G Pairing/Relationship: JayDami, brotherly A/N: Ages are roughly Dick: college-age (early adult), Jason: late teen, Tim: mid-teen, Damian: 3

Summary: A grounded Jason gets stuck watching baby Damian.

Life sucked.

To prove his point (and his mood), Jason responded to the knock on his bedroom door by turning his music up louder. If Bruce were home, or even Dick, there would be immediate words, but he wasn’t and Tim wasn’t the boss of him.

“Jason!” Tim pounded on the door again. “Jason, quit moping around and hear me out for a minute!”

Jason rolled his eyes. Normally, Tim either gave him a wide berth when he was in one of his moods or he just picked the lock and barged in, mindless of Jason’s cursing at him to get out. But tonight, Tim had gotten stuck on babysitting duty, and Damian, with eyes like a damn hawk, was about as impressionable as they came.

“I swear to God, if you don’t open this door, I’ll tell Bruce you snuck out and he’ll add another week to your grounding.”

Wrenching the door open, Jason used his body to block off any view of what had become his unwanted sanctuary for the next six days. “What?”

Tim drew back at the snap in his tone. “I need you to watch Dami–”

“No.”

Tim’s hands came up in peace. “Okay, I knew you were going to say that, but you know I would never ask you if it wasn’t an emergency.”

Jason failed to be impressed. The house clearly wasn’t on fire and Damian wasn’t screaming in pain anywhere.

Tim leaned in, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “We’re out of milk.”

Jason’s exclaimed, “Fuck!” was immediately followed by both teens looking down the hall to see if the three year old had heard.

When there was no childlike echo or overly curious eyes suddenly appearing around the corner, Tim deemed it safe enough to punch Jason in the chest. “Language!”

“Fuck that!” Jason hissed out in a whisper. “What the fuck were all of you thinking, not making sure we had milk before Bruce and Alfred took off for the night??”

It was common knowledge that Damian needed a cup of warm milk exactly one hour before bed. Otherwise, he would do his damn best to break everyone’s eardrums with his piercing wails, kick and scream until something broke, then throw up all over himself.

“Because we had some this morning when Alfred asked me to double check! But then someone,” he stressed, making it quite clear exactly who that someone was, “stopped by because he’s too good for his university’s mess hall breakfast and had to go and have half a gallon with his ridiculous amounts of cereal–”

“You can say his name, you know,” Jason interrupted. “He won’t care if your hero worship of him is lessened in any way.”

“Timmer-ty! I’m going potty!” Damian’s declaration was punctuated with the slamming of the bathroom door.

“Please aim for the water this time!” Tim shouted back. The kid’s aim was so bad, Bruce was seriously considering investing in urinals for half of the manor’s bathrooms. “Watch him while I run to the store and I’ll give you twenty bucks.”

Jason pulled a face. Twenty dollars was NOT enough to convince him to spend any amount of quality time with the brat.

“Forty,” he haggled.

“I could just give you fifteen,” Tim threatened.

Jason made himself comfortable against his doorframe. “And I could ask for half your check tonight,” he pointed out, knowing he had the upper hand.

Tim’s eyes narrowed. “I could also remind you that you’re grounded for a good reason and that any amount of money is more than you deserve right now.”

Jason remained silent, his face expectant.

“Fine!” Tim relented after all of three seconds. “Thirty dollars, tops. And that entirely depends on both Damian’s emotional state and the state of the house when I get back.”

“Deal.”

Jason didn’t bother to slip out of his room until Tim was sliding his keys into his pocket and yelling orders at Damian through the still-closed bathroom door.

“You can just go now! I can take care of myself!” Damian’s proclamation was punctuated by the flushing of the toilet.

“I’m not wiping his butt,” Jason muttered as he squeezed by Tim on his way to the upstairs den.

Flopping down on the couch, he wasted no time in finding the remote and surfing his way up through the sports stations, knowing full well this was going to be something he missed dearly for the next week.

Just as he settled on a station, Damian exited the bathroom, his hand-me-down jeans hiked up nearly to his chest, where he held them in place, his strides long and awkward.

Times like this, Jason couldn’t help but acknowledge the soft spot he had for Bruce’s biological kid. Talia always insisted Damian wore clothes that fit perfectly, a choice that cost her a small fortune every time her child grew another inch. But when staying with his father, Damian preferred stealing his brothers’ old clothes and stumbling around in them.

“Jason,” Damian greeted, looking down at his pants while walking over to the couch.

Jason set the remote control aside and leaned forward, fully expecting to be asked to help button up the kid’s pants.

Instead, Damian came to a stop several feet away and leaned forward, pushing his pants down to his ankles. “Jason, look at my underwear.”

Jason pulled a face, his gaze flickering to the TV to make sure he hadn’t missed anything important. He had no interest in pretending to be fascinated with Sesame Street or Mickey Mouse or–

“Those are stripes,” he stated dumbly.

Damian nodded, his arms akimbo and mouth straight with all the common sense a three year old could hold. “Yes.”

“Rainbow stripes.” Jason had no idea why he was still staring. “Why do you have rainbow striped underwear?” He wasn’t even away such a thing existed for little boys. “That’s not boy’s underwear,” he realized.

Sure enough, the longer he inspected it, the more sure of his statement Jason became. The elastic lining was too thin, the fabric looked softer, and it was missing the tell-tale slit that all male undergarments came with.

Damian shrugged and nodded like it was no big deal, despite it clearly being the opposite since he felt the need to show it off. “My maman has rainbow underwear and I wanted some, too.” He shrugged again and looked down at himself. “So she got me some.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up at the admission. He definitely never would have pegged Talia as the type to own anything less than silky and sexy, lest Bruce wouldn’t be in this mess (-y custody battle) in the first place.

Man…did Bruce know about his kid’s early life choices?

“What are you watching?” Damian’s attention turned to the television. “Are you watching sports? Father likes sports. He likes MMMA, but maman says I can’t watch MMMA because all they do is beat each other up and get blood everywhere.” He squinted at the TV. “Do you like to beat people up?”

Fumbling for the remote, Jason flipped from the hockey game to American Ninja Warrior. “Not even a little bit. Why are you taking your pants off? I don’t want to see your underwear anymore.”

“Because that’s what you do after a hard day’s work,” Damian explained matter-of-factly as he climbed up onto the couch next to the teen. “You relax with no pants and cuddle with your family and drink wine. It’s how you show you love each other. Do you have any wine?”

Jason snorted. “No.”

“Liar.” He blinked at the conviction in Damian’s voice. “Timmer-ty said you got in trouble for drinking growed-up drinks because you’re not a growed-up yet.”

“Oh yeah? If that’s the case, what makes you think I’d even give you any?” Jason asked, mentally seething at Tim. Why the hell was he sharing that kind of information with a toddler in the first place?

Sliding back off the couch, Damian retrieved his cup of juice from the coffee table. “Because sharing is caring,” he quoted Alfred before taking a long sip.

“It’s because someone shared that I got in trouble in the first place,” Jason admitted with a frown.

The cup was pulled free from Damian’s mouth with a ‘pop’. “Was it a bad man with candy?”

Jason’s mouth opened to deny it and paused. While he certainly trusted Roy as a friend, he wasn’t sure he wanted someone like Damian, or even Tim, to do the same.

“Yes,” he said gravely. “Yes it was.”

“Tt. Stupid,” Damian scolded as he climbed back onto the couch. “Even I know to stay away from bad guys with candy.”

“Good. That’ll save you from getting grounded in the future.”

“Or kidnapped.” Damian turned to look at Jason. “I’m glad you didn’t get kidnapped.”

Jason couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “Why? Would you miss me?”

“No,” Damian’s attention turned back to the TV. “But Maman might miss Father’s money when he has to buy your ram-som to get you back and then I won’t get new clothes or toys anymore.”

The smile dropped off Jason’s face.

Thirty dollars. He was getting thirty dollars for this.

Slouching down on the couch, Jason turned up the volume to ensure any conversation between them was done.

THE END.

#jaydami #jaydami fic #batfam #batbros #jason Todd #Damian Wayne #Tim drake #reyn writes #reyn writes jaydami #reyn writes batfam

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unavenged-robin · 8 years

Link

Characters: Tim Drake & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne Additional Tags: Swearing, Minor Violence, Dysfunctional Family, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff

Chapter 1

It becomes a habit much more quickly than he likes to admit, and for a lot of different reasons that are not just because I’m bored and I have nothing better to do tonight, which is usually what he tells Tim when he calls him to ask if they’re okay with him coming over.

Tim always says yes, of course Jay, we’ll wait for you, and never even comments on the fact that Jason has his own keys and he doesn't really have to ask him anything at all. He lets him live in his fake denial and Jason is kinda happy that way, or at least that’s what he says to himself everytime he opens the door of Tim’s apartment with his arms full of grocery bags.

Tonight, as many other nights, Tim and Damian are sitting at the opposite sides of the kitchen table, laptops open in front of them and piles of books framing their space like walls of two rival forts on a battlefield, a matching frown on both of their faces. Tim’s wearing his reading glasses and gnawing the top of his pencil with a focussed expression, and Jason knows he’s been working non-stop for hours now. Damian, on the other hand, is perched on the edge of his chair, fingers playing with the cord of his headphones, watching the screen of his laptop with glassy eyes, and Jason knows he’s bored out of his mind and just pretending to be working because of Tim.

He scoffs both at them and at himself, because really, if he’s noticing these kind of things already it means that he’s spending way too much of his time with these two shitheads. And that’s not okay. For a lot of reasons. He has a very long list of them somewhere.

“Alright, enough with this shit”, he says while walking into the kitchen, loud enough to snap Tim out of his working trance and for Damian to hear him despite the outrageous volume of his iPod. He has no doubt they’ve noticed him the moment he’s set foot in the apartment, they both probably just didn’t believe necessary to acknowledge his presence in any way. The brats.

He sets the bags on the counter with a loud thud and turns around to see both of his brothers glaring at him with an identical raised eyebrow. If they were closer to each other the urge to bang their heads together would probably be too strong for Jason to resist.

“Put all of those books away, then come help me with the groceries”, he orders with his best impersonation of Alfred’s voice.

“And exactly what was the cause of the head trauma you obviously had to suffer to think that we’re at your service, Todd?”, Damian asks, shooting him one of his best looks of haughty disdain.

Tim laughs but closes his laptop and stands up anyway.

“Come on, Damian, don’t be ungrateful”, he chides lightly. “After all Jason’s the one with the skill to turn raw food into a real dinner.”

“I never said I was gonna cook”, Jason retorts. And it’s true, but what’s also true is that he doesn’t have to say it because everyone, himself included, just take it for granted since Tim can’t cook anything that doesn’t come from the frozen food section and no one with a shred of survival instinct would ever allow Damian to play with knives and open fire.

“And if you don’t get a move you’re going to wash the dishes tonight”, he warns Damian, who just clicks his tongue at him.

“I see the trauma was even more serious than expected since you’re also experiencing memory losses”, the kid answers without losing a beat. “We have a dishwasher, unlike some uncivilized overgrown bullies”, Damian reminds him smugly and Jason, well aware of the responsibilities coming from being the adult of the situation, throws an apple at him.

Damian catches it easily and takes a bite out of sheer spite, and Jason wants to bang his head against the wall when he realizes that the first thing that almost gets out of his mouth is you’ll ruin your appetite, you little shit. When did he ever become a very less polished and well-mannered version of Alfred Pennyworth he will never know. What he knows is who he has to blame for it, though.

“You little shit”, he just grumbles back, narrowing his eyes at him, but it’s a weak retort and Damian triumphantly grins at him.

Tim just shakes his head, hiding his own smile and taking up some of Damian’s books while walking around the table.

“Alright guys, let’s call a truce”, he offers. “I’ll put the books away and set the table, and Damian can help with the bags and the cooking.”

Jason scoffs and starts pulling out the groceries. Damian, having won his own personal moral battle against Jason, graciously helps him putting them away, still munching at his apple with great satisfaction. He doesn’t even retaliate when Jason accidentally swats him on the back of his head with a stalk of celery, and that means he’s in a good mood. Tim too looks pretty much content when he comes back and starts moving around them to take out the tableware.

Jason, on his part, finds himself settling in the domestic bliss quite easily, and almost without noticing it. He cooks, and he grabs the things Tim needs from the top shelves for him with a teasing smile, and he teaches Damian how to slice the vegetables without making them looking like the victims of a homicide.

With dinner, movies and no patrol for once, in the end it turns out to be a real nice, homely family night, and that’s probably why Jason keeps forgetting all the reasons why he shouldn’t get too attached to any of this.

Of course quiet family nights are a rarity more than a common occurrence.

Most of the times Jason would open the door and find Tim and Damian shouting or launching things at each other (no physical fights though, that’s one thing he has to give to them), or barricaded in their bedrooms blasting music at each other at full volume - and thank god Damian scared the neighbours enough to convince them to never ever think of meddling in their fights, or cops and social services would be constant guests of this house.

Usually he would side with Tim and force the little demon to back off (because at the cost of sounding biased, Damian is the responsible party ninety percent of the time), or just shout at them both until they both shut up, and sometimes - because there were those times too, no use in lying about it - he would just turn back and walk the hell out of there.

Then one night he comes- okay, no, he’s not going to think about this as him coming home because this is not his home, not even close to it, in fact, despite having now spent two weeks in a row coming here every night to have dinner and leave for patrol together and then come back again to crash on the couch and god, he needs to put a stop to this yesterday.

So, one night he comes to Tim’s apartment and the place is a mess. A truly, unholy, striking mess that makes his heart jump a beat because when it was the last time they heard about Ra’s? Or Talia, for that matter? And Ra’s always had a weird obsession with Tim, so what if they came here together to take away both of them and then split them, Tim with Ra’s and Damian with his mother? What the hell is Jason supposed to do if that’s the case?

“Tim! Damian!”, he calls, panic making his voice sounding thick with anger more than with worry, and he’s almost ready to bolt out of the door and towards the Manor - because fuck the whole amnesia thing, if the kids are in trouble he’ll force Bruce to remember them with his fists if he has to, no fucking way he’s letting him come too late for them too - but then a soft whimper attracts his attention and he stops in his tracks.

The sound came from Tim’s bedroom so Jason runs there, ready to find his brother covered in blood and the confirmation that Damian’s gone - but at least Tim’s here and together they can and they will get him back, Bruce or not Bruce. Those were Tim’s words, not so many weeks ago.

He finds Tim on his bed, laying on his stomach, a pillow pressed over his head. No blood, no wounds, and the mess around him is the usual Tim-mess, not the tornado-like mess in the half destroyed living room.

“Tim?”, Jason calls to him, the pit of his stomach still tight as a knot but now for a different reason.

“Mph”, Tim answers into the mattress.

Jason growls.

“Tim, what the fuck happened out there?”

There must be some kind of dangerous undertone in his voice because Tim doesn’t huff at him again. Instead he raises the pillow from his head and turns around to look at him. He takes in Jason’s posture, his white face and clenched fists, then he seems to consider the state of the rest of his house and how all of this would look like from a point of view of someone who knows what these kind of situations usually means and he just goes ...oh.

“Oh. No, no, it’s not- It’s okay, Jay. That was all Damian. Well, almost all Damian. Sorry”, Tim babbles, now propped up on his elbows, ruffled hair and eyes big with worry and guilt.

And Jason wants to be angry, he really wants it. He also wants to storm out of this goddamn apartment and never come back again because seriously, he did not die and come back to life for this kind of shit. Instead he plops down on Tim’s bed and hides his face in his hands, rubbing his forehead in the vain attempt to stop the incipient headache he knows it’s coming.

“I thought it was Ra’s”, he hums against his palms, because there’s no point in trying to look less ridiculous than he feels.

“Sorry”, Tim offers again, moving closer to him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Mh”, Jason answers.

They sit in silence for a few minutes before he finds the strength to ask.

“You want to tell me why Damian decided to redecorate the house to make it look like a dump?”

Tim sighs and lets himself fall back on the bed.

“We were fighting about patrol again”, he answers, closing his eyes. “You know how he is.”

Jason does know. It’s been a periodical fight in the last month, with the little demon being more and more insistent on wanting to try the solo thing while Tim’s busy with the Titans and Jason with the Outlaws, instead of just getting dragged along by one of them. And he had some valid points too, Jason can’t deny it, but let an eleven years old - even this eleven years old - patrolling Gotham completely alone is something neither him or Tim are ready to do.

“He kept saying that Dick and even Bruce would’ve let him out on his own”, Tim goes on, voice just a little above a whisper. “And… I don’t know, I just lost it. Because I know, and you know, and even Damian knows that they would’ve never- that Bruce would never... And I must’ve said the wrong thing again and he snapped. So I snapped too. I think I throw him across the room, and things obviously escalated from there.”

“Tim…”, Jason starts.

“I know. But I’m trying. I swear, I’m trying. But he’s so frustrating sometimes and-”, he pauses, pressing a hand over his eyes. “I get that he misses Bruce and Dick, I get it. I know it’s hard and I know he’s, well, Damian. But I swear to god, sometimes I just want to give him a goddamn spanking.”

Jason finds himself chuckling at that.

“Well, it wouldn’t be underserved”, he agrees. “But then he’ll probably slit your throat in retaliation.”

“Definitely, not probably”, Tim corrects him with a snort.

Silence sets back between them and Jason stares at the floor, knowing what Tim’s going to ask him next. To his credit, Tim bites his lips and looks very apologetic when he finally does ask.

“Can you talk to him, Jason? Sometimes he listens to you, you know.”

Jason only snorts at that.

“Sometimes he listened to Dick. Maybe. If he was in a good mood. And if the stars were in the right position”, he corrects him bitterly. “But yeah, why not, I guess I’d earn my share of insults anyway so we might as well get on with it.”

He finds Damian on his bed, laying on his back, a pillow pressed over his face.

He wants to laugh.

They’re so similar, yet they would never admit it. They get offended with him every time he tries to point it out, and it’s so funny and so sad at the same time that they can’t see it when it’s so obvious to him (and would be so obvious to Bruce and to Dick too, if only they were here now, but then again, if they were here now none of them would be in this mess in the first place.)

He approaches the bed slowly and with heavy steps, making sure not to take the kid by surprise, in the very remote case he’s actually sleeping. Damian doesn’t react to his presence in any way, doesn’t even protest when Jason sits on the edge of his bed and prods him in his leg with a finger.

“Nice work out there, kid. You must really be a little prince to fuck up so majestically”, he says, going for the direct confrontation. Damian doesn’t believe in edulcorated discussions or in softening the blow, he likes a hit to be blunt and honest and Jason both respects and agrees with that. “Want me to call you Your Highness from now on?”

“Go away”, Damian orders him, but his usually imperious tone now sounds a little wet around the corners.

“Are you crying?”

The kid shifts a little, trying to distract him to hide a sniffle, and that’s all the answer Jason needs.

“Good. That’s probably the only proper reaction you had tonight”, Jason comments harshly because, like Tim, he gets it too - how could he not. A dead brother, an absent father, a house they don’t dare to call home, that’s something all of them can understand.

And yes, Damian is still a child, a child who’s been abused beyond comprehension since the day he was born, but that doesn’t mean that he can get away with everything. Pain and loneliness are not a justification for violence or for hurting other people, and yes, he knows that if he says that out loud Damian will quite literally skin him alive because that qualifies as the right title for his future autobiography, but that’s also why he’s the one who can truly say this kind of shit and knowing what he’s talking about. He walked that road first, after all, and what’s the point of his entire second life if he can’t even save his own brothers from making the same mistakes?

“I am not crying”, Damian only answers from under the pillow, making it even more clearly that he is, in fact, crying.

Jason sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Messy houses, moody teenagers, crying children: here they are the top three bullet points of that infamous list of reasons he keeps forgetting.

He looks at Damian’s hands, clenched into fists around the edges of his pillows, whitened knuckles and arms rigid with tension, then turns his head towards the door frame, where Tim’s lean figure has just appeared. Jason sighs again.

“It’s not a matter of trust, you know”, he says slowly, looking at his own hands. “It’s not even a matter of skills. This is about doing what’s right for you- what Bruce and Dick would want for you, if you prefer.”

“They don’t-”

“I know they don’t. But Bruce’s going to remember eventually, no way this is going to be permanent. You know that. And you also know that the moment he’ll get you back he’ll never let you patrol alone until you’re old enough to drive legally at least.”

“I did it anyway”, Damian mutters, so softly Jason almost doesn’t catch it. “The driving, but also patrol alone. Sometimes. When he was off-planet with the League.”

He laughs bitterly at that.

“Of course you did it. Hell, we all did it, at some point. And who knows, maybe a few times he really didn’t find out about it.”

Or he found out too late, but let’s not go there.

“I wouldn’t count on that”, Tim says from the door, with a smile in his voice. “I always got grounded for it, no matter how sneaky I thought I’d been.”

Jason hums in agreement, and Damian doesn’t disagree, so Tim goes on.

“This is not permanent, Damian”, he says, repeating Jason’s words. “But for now we need to make it work anyway.”

There is a long silence, and Damian only answers after Jason pokes his leg again.

“I know”, he grumbles, pillow still pressed on his face so tightly Jason’s really starting to wonder how in hell he’s still breathing.

“Want to come out from under there and say something else?”

“No.”

Jason pinches his side and Damian unclenches one of his hand to swat him, giving him the opportunity to snatch the pillow away from the kid’s other hand. He meets Damian’s puffy, angry red glare with an impish grin.

“So?”, he prompts him again.

Damian looks away from him and makes a point to look anywhere else but at his brothers.

“I will help with the cleaning”, he murmurs.

Which is not an apology at all, but it’s close enough for Tim to nods at him. Jason has half a mind to insist anyway, but he’s also so not in the mood for a fight right now, so he pushes down all the snappy comebacks on how helping with the cleaning is the least he can do and gets up from the bed.

“And no patrol for a week”, he adds anyway, crossing his arms over his chest because if he has to play the adult he might as well do it properly. Also he’s kind of curious about Damian’s reaction, because if the kid decides to start trashing the room again, at least Jason will have the confirmation that this entire night has been nothing but an useless exercise in patience.

But Damian doesn’t start screaming or launching things at him. He only scowls and shoots him a look full of disdain, which, Jason supposes, is as close as he’ll ever get to acquiesce.

He watches the kid scrambling out of the bed and then out of the room, pausing only for a moment next to Tim, who gently squeezes his shoulder when the kid walks past him.

Jason will never understand his younger brothers, honestly.

From the sound of it Damian’s already starting to pick up pieces of the smashed furniture when finally Tim turns towards him with a skeptical grimace on his face.

“You know that you just reminded him that instead of fighting us about this he can actually just try and do it behind our backs, right?”

Jason answers him with a tired smile.

“Yeah, the key concept here being instead of fighting us”, he points out. “What? You don’t feel up to the challenge? Damian will be delighted to hear that.”

Tim rolls his eyes at him.

“When this dumbass plan goes downhill - and it will go downhill, mark my word on this - you’ll find me right beside you, ready to put all the blame on your stupid perception of what is a situation improvement and what isn’t.”

“Yeah, sure”, Jason replies. “You’re welcome, little brother.”

Tim gives him a look all too similar to Damian’s previous one before he too walks out of the bedroom to help the kid with the cleaning, and Jason can only mentally groan at himself, knowing that this time he dug his own grave with his hands.

Totally unplanned second chapter because my brain does that sometimes. Still this is not going to turn into a longfic because let’s be honest, there is literally no plot here, just Jason getting random heart attacks because of his younger brothers.

Also I feel like I’m rewriting Lilo & Stitch for some reason??? I’m just not sure who’s who here because Damian should be Stitch but he’s more Lilo than anything, and Tim is totally Nani. So that makes Jason Stitch, I guess. I mean, he does have the temper.

#jason todd #damian wayne #tim drake #red hood #red robin #robin #my fic #batdictionary #i really don't know where this came from #i should be writing other things #wtf brain #series: juxtaposition #shari writes

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