#Tim is feeling a bit murderous when he hears the gossip

[bluerosefox]

So... This was inspired by listening to EPIC (FREAKING LOVE ALL THE ALBUMS, SO GOOD) and by @noxcheshire post of Tim being Odysseus reincarnated and Danny (maybe also reincarnated) being his Penelope (Here) so I had to turn it into a Dead Tired idea.

The song The Challenge is the main one here. (Cause I LOVE that song... along with Would You Fall In Love With Me Again)

So WHAT IF Danny IS the reincarnated Penelope, after becoming the Ghost King Danny's memories of his past life as Penelope returns and remembers how before dying/ or being reincarnated both Penelope and Odysseus promised to find each other in their new lives, no matter who they are, what new form they take, they will find each other.

So Danny/Penelope, just like before waits for their Odysseus to return to them, but also tries to find him in their new life (CW is laughing whenever Danny asks for hints and gets a 'In due time, just wait' answer, ugh Danny wants to smack CW for that)

However just like in his previous life with being in a high position of power, Danny is being pressured to marry/take a spouse (now its not just men/males though so its a huge headache, I head canon Ghosts don't care much for gender preference) mostly by the dang eyeballs that Danny is still trying to find a way to get rid of without upsetting the Infinite Realms dedicate (but slowly healing) balance even if Danny wanted nothing more than to punch all of the suitors out.

So Danny decides to play the long game again.

And waits for their Odysseus return.

Danny's wait is over when they suddenly feel the Realms shift one day, as if welcoming someone familiar home, and the same feeling Danny had when he had been Penelope and saw the storm that was sign of Odysseus coming home, Danny decides its time to bring out The Challenge once again. (CW gifted Danny a few things from his past as Penelope as a coronation gift, like Odysseus's bow (now enchanted to be unbreakable), a painting of when he was Penelope, with Telemchus, and Odysseus, and the Marriage Bed/Olive Tree, AND the Palace Odysseus made that Danny takes to being in over being at Pariah's Keep)

-x-x-

Meanwhile

Tim Drake, aka Red Robin, always had strange dreams as a child.

War, Death, Monsters, Gods, Goddesses.

His dreams were more like nightmares, haunting him and he sometimes woke up in cold sweat.

He hated storms. Hated being in the water for to long. Hated how he felt both tense but also at home when around Greek heroes, as if he was afraid to 'disrespect' them (Cassie was the only one he didn't feel that way around, mostly cause they had been somewhat friends before their heroing since their parents knew each other) but also knew how to appease them should he insult them. He also had a strange hatred for the CoO with a burning passion because he felt like they were mocking real Owls.

The worst part of nightmares that always pop up are of what feels like should be his home is being invaded by unwanted guests (they aren't guests), how they are angry over trying to string a bow and shot an arrow through axes, of the terrible terrible things he hear them saying they were going to do to his loved ones (two names that keep getting muted out).

How it ends in bloodshed with echoing of begging, pleading, mercy, and screams.

However in those nightmares at the end. He also finds himself looking for something in them.

Or rather he always found someone waiting for him at the end of the nightmares. Calling him by the wrong name but it sounds just right coming from them.

The dream always ends with the person asking 'How long has it been?' and before he can answer he wakes up.

So yeah Tim has horrifying nightmares/dreams he could never explain.

And the urge to find someone. To go home to them.

It isn't until he and his friends from Young Justice are hit by a spell from Klarion (who may or may not had a visit from a certain chaos encouraging Time Keeper) and sent to a place called the Infinite Realms in the middle of their fight, that Tim is hit hard with déjà vu when he spots a certain Palace in the distance and overhears some of the 'people?' (they glow and float and some don't even look human?! where are they?) talk about how the 'King' has issued a new 'Challenge' for his 'suitors'.

A Challenge involving a bow, and axes.

And Tim, feels like he knows this all too well and needs to do it.

[dathen]

Okay I have some complicated thoughts following Melanie’s arc that all build on top of each other and hinge HEAVILY on unreliable narrator interpretations so bear with me

In my relisten I’m at the beginning of s3, and it always shocks me a bit at how quickly she interprets Martin’s interaction with her as hostile.  I’m going to skip over the “it’s understandable, Melanie’s had a hard time in her career” disclaimers since there’s plenty of meta on that already, and instead follow the effects of this tendency: not on others, this time, but on her

(This got absurdly long and covers so many episodes so I’m going to split it into separate pre- and post-bullet surgery posts)

Rewinding a bit, the last time she was at the Institute, she was starting to get along with Jon before he seemed confused about her comment on “the other Sasha.”  It takes her a split second to interpret that confusion as him suddenly deciding to gaslight and mock her, gets angry and tells him there is something seriously wrong with him, and leaves before he can ask what she means.  Given how tenuous their truce was and the fact she and Jon had mocked each other in the past, it’s an outburst that at least has some personal history behind it.

But only a couple episodes later, we learn that it’s not just Jon she responds to in this way.  In TMA 84, she meets our Martin Blackwood!  Customer service voice opposite-of-Jon politeness extraordinaire!  And as soon as he gets confused about the two Sasha comment, she.......immediately assumes that HE is also trying to gaslight her.  She insists that “I’m not doing this again” without giving him a chance to ask or explain, so they miss the opportunity to piece together the deal with the Not!Sasha.  Her doing this with someone she just met shows a much broader pattern than her interactions with Jon.

That very episode, Elias offers Melanie a job, and she accepts despite Martin’s protests.  Later, she accuses them all of them being an “old boy’s club” because she interpreted Martin’s warnings as sexism rather than trying to protect her.  As the audience, we see the unreliable narrator of her perspective at work: we know that Jon and Martin were genuinely confused, and we know that Martin was trying to save her, and that all of these instances were her seeing it as people being out to get her.

Hop forward to the notorious gossip scene in TMA 106.  Here, Melanie complains about Martin being hostile to her.  My first assumption was that this was all offscreen, but after this parade of misinterpretation and comparing to her and Martin’s actual interactions, I have to wonder:

TMA 84, after Martin tells Melanie about the murder, and right before Elias interrupts:

Martin:  Are you sure you’re alright?

Melanie:  Yes!  I just got… God, I’m kind of at the end, you know?

Martin:  The end of what?

Melanie:   Everything.  Friends, clues, savings. Everything.  Options.  There’s nowhere left for me to go . I don’t know why, but…  I just, I just felt that perhaps coming here might help.  And talking things out with Jon.  I mean, I mean he’s awful, but at least he listens, you know?

Martin:   (soft) Yeah.  ...I’m sorry.  Um, is there anything that I could, like, maybe...do for you?

They get interrupted immediately after this, so this was the first impression Melanie was given.  Then, when Elias offers the job, she...assumes Martin’s “I don’t think that’s a good idea” is from sexism, when he’d just been talking about murders and disappearances that caused that very job opening.

TMA 88 

Melanie:   Are you alright?

Martin:  Yeah… Sorry, just a lot of change recently, y’know.  You and John and Sasha and… everything’s gone a bit wrong.  It’s the not knowing, you know?  I mean, Jon’s still alive.  Not sure why, but I’m sure of that.  But Sasha, I…

Melanie:   Yes, it’s… it’s probably, um…

Martin:   Sorry, sorry, I’m...  What do you need?

Next interaction!  Oh this one HURTS.  Martin takes her question literally, and starts telling her why she’s not alright, a reverse of their earlier exchange.  But Melanie came by for a question and wasn’t prepared for an honest answer, so Martin quickly reels it in and asks what he can do for her once again.

Skipping forward a bit in that same scene:

Martin:   Oh, you weren’t here when we took the place over from Gertrude!  It’s been over a year just to get it like this.  I mean, I think the database was on Jon’s list, but--

Melanie:  So how do you track someone down?

Martin:   Oh, oh well, y’know, we’ve a few contacts in various record offices around the place.  Aside from that it’s just… just a bit of detective work, really.  Tim used to do a great line in impersonating people to utility companies!  Heh, the number of times he got them to give him ‘his own’ address--

Melanie:  Right, right… Um, this one, the name is 'Jude Perry.’ Doesn’t mean anything to you, does it?

I LOVE THIS EXCHANGE.  I TREASURE IT.  Having bottled up his emotions, Martin is going in full Friendly Helpful Coworker mode.  There are so many little details here signaling that he’s embracing her as part of the team, sharing anecdotes about Tim’s shenanigans and Jon’s old plans, looping her in as One of Them as he helps her get what she needs.  This is the kind of approach you go to management trainings to get, to help new hires feel welcome and part of things.  But alas, Melanie is in a hurry and wants to cut to the chase, so all this is lost on her.

TMA 98 - I won’t copy it all in here because it’s long, but this is an overwhelmingly positive interaction.  She asks if he’s okay, but he bottles it up and says he’s fine.  This time, she presses, and he admits it’s because of the statements.  Martin ends up asking for help!! and Melanie agrees!  She’s on the way to murder Elias, but she still gets credit for “I’ll ask him to cut you some slack.”  Then she invites him to drinks!

And then.... TMA 106

Melanie:   Anyway, Martin’s always been lovely to you.

Basira:  Hmm. I don’t know, I mean, you should have seen him when I turned up last year. I think he thought I was trying to steal his precious Archivist.

Melanie:   Ahhh. I got the exact same when Jon was hiding out, and came to me with his “source on the inside�� stuff.  Martin was not impressed.

WAIT WHAT

We just looked over all their interactions!  They were all soft and lovely and welcoming!!  But then we hear Melanie with “well unlike how he is to me, Martin is nice to you.”  This was taken at face value for years, but when you line up all of the above, I feel there is a strong basis to say this is another case of Melanie’s first impressions + over-defensiveness gone wrong.  Just like we saw her initial bickerings with Jon solidify into series-long hostility, her interpreting Martin’s confusion as gaslighting and warnings about the job as sexism seems to have doomed her opinion of him long-term.  We hear Martin being kind and concerned and welcoming, then hear Melanie contrast it as bad treatment.

Recently, a mutual considered this even further to how she talked about losing all of her friends with the Ghost Hunt UK circles:

Melanie:  Even back then, I could feel all my old friends starting to distance themselves from me. ...  I stopped asking the others for help, and I kept my research to myself. I talked to them less and less. By the time I was arrested, I think a lot of them had already given up on me.

I have to wonder...did this sort of dynamic play out here, too?  Did she assume that her friends’ concern was judgment or hostility?  Were they giving up on her, or did she lash out and push them away?  Either way, it’s easy to see parallels to s2 Jon in her description, here, with her withdrawing and diving alone into increasingly risky research without asking for help.  And s2 Jon definitely shared Melanie’s tendency to see offers for help and support as hostile.  (Aside:  I interpret her and Georgie as not very close at this point, like a networking contact rather than a friend; Melanie comes to Jon for someone to talk to about her struggles above her, and Georgie seems to be unaware of all of Melanie’s encounters pre-s3)

And on that downer note I am ending part 1...but PART 2 IS GOING TO BE WAY HAPPIER THAN THIS.  Here, we see Melanie with a lot of people who would have supported her if she let them:  Martin, Jon, possibly the friends she said abandoned her.  But in her effort to protect herself and not let history repeat for how she’d been hurt in the past, she ends up alone and spiraling.

[bluejayblueskies]

an ill-fitting definition

rating: M words: 4.3k relationships: jongeorgie, jontim, jonmartin, background wtgfs additional tags: canon compliant, pre-canon, scottish safehouse period, canon asexual character, fluff, kissing, implied sexual content, rumors and misconceptions

written for weeks two/three of @archivalpride for the prompts identity and doubt!

cw for misconceptions about asexuality, assumptions made about somebody’s sexuality, rumors and outing somebody without their knowledge, non-explicit/implied sexual content, mention of canonical character death, mention of canonical stalking and paranoia, gossip (including of the sexual nature), food, very mild blood, mild internalized acephobia

ao3 link in source

.

It’s three weeks and two days after they began dating, when Georgie picks up Jon’s hand where it’s clasped in hers and asks with plain curiosity in her voice, so does the ring, y’know, mean anything?, that Georgie hears the word asexual cross Jon’s lips for the first time.

It’s not a word she’s unfamiliar with; she’s run in enough LGBTQ spaces in her time in uni that she has a good idea of the breadth of identities that are out there. She rubs her thumb across Jon’s ring and thinks, in the voice of the gender and equality training instructor with sharp red heels and a “fun” black dress who’d stood in front of the seminar she’d been mandated to take for one of her courses:

Asexuality. A lack of sexual attraction. An aversion or repulsion to sexual activities.

It had been a small word on a large black-and-white slide, crammed in next to aromanticism and overcrowded by a myriad of other sexual identities discussed at length. It had been… quite a comprehensive training, Georgie thinks as she quits fidgeting with Jon’s ring and instead threads their fingers together. For a moment, she considers asking what he means anyway, but she quickly dismisses the thought. She wants to be supportive, and as Jon looks at her with open, trusting eyes and a faint smile, she decides that she knows enough. She doesn’t want to make it awkward, and with things like these, she’s found that asking Jon to explain his feelings in plain terms can be… well, awkward is certainly a word for it. Best just not to bring it up, she decides.

Still, she feels the need to ask, “Can I kiss you?” because the red no sex sign blinking on and off in her head is frustratingly vague on what, exactly, is contained within that stipulation. When Jon voices his assent, she tips her head up and presses a quick kiss to his chin before kissing him on the lips, wiping the disgruntled look off them.

So yes to kissing, she thinks, tucking that away next to no sex. Yes kissing, no sex. Yes holding hands, she adds as she squeezes Jon’s hand in hers and he smiles at her, warm and soft, that special side of Jon that she only sees on occasion. No pet names, she adds a week later when she tries out sweetheart and Jon’s nose wrinkles with displeasure. No foot rubs, when Jon swats at her and says, between giggles, that he’s awfully ticklish. Yes back rubs. Yes cuddling. No PDA. No touching with wet or sticky hands. Yes brushing hair.

That’s as far as she gets before, one year and two months after she begins dating Jonathan Sims, she stops. After which point she stops keeping track, because, well. There’s really no point anymore, is there?

.

.

.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says, burying his head in his hands.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tim says quickly, holding his hands in the air in a placating gesture. He scoots a few inches away from Jon on the couch for good measure, unsure just how much space Jon needs right now. “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize—I should apologize. I should have asked first.”

“It’s just—” Jon makes a frustrated noise, and when he takes his hands away his cheeks are dark and he won’t meet Tim’s eyes. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s okay,” Tim repeats, watching with a twisting feeling in his stomach as Jon apparently notices that the button of his trousers is still undone and quickly goes to redo it. His eyes follow the movements of Jon’s hands automatically, and just as automatically, he notes the distinct lack of a tent in the front of Jon’s trousers. The same… cannot be said for his own. Particularly after nearly twenty minutes of kissing, which Tim had very much enjoyed.

Christ, had Jon been uncomfortable with that as well? All in a rush, Tim says, “Was the kissing bad too?” Then, he winces—fuck, that sounded accusatory—and adds, “It- it’s okay if it was, I just- I didn’t know, and I don’t want to do something that makes you uncomfortable, Jon.”

“No, the- the kissing was fine, it’s just...” Jon makes an aborted motion with his hands, like he’s trying and failing to find the words.

“... complicated?” Tim supplies.

Jon nods mutely.

“That’s okay,” Tim says, and he finds that he means it. “We don’t have to do anything more than kissing if you don’t want to.”

“I- I don’t…” Jon worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, like he’s searching for the right words, the crease in his forehead deepening every moment he fails to find them. Finally, he lets out a long, labored breath, pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers, and says, “Yes, that… that might be best.”

Tim studies Jon’s face. It’s pinched and a bit stiff, like Jon would very much like to crawl out of his skin or melt into a puddle and disappear. “You sure?” he feels compelled to ask, placing a hand carefully on Jon’s knee. “You, uh. You seem a bit unsure.”

Jon sits there a moment more, spine straight and rigid, before melting slightly against Tim’s hand, his face slipping into something more relaxed but no less unhappy. “Yes.” He hesitates a moment, then says, a bit stiltedly, “I’m, um. I’m asexual. Since we’re already talking about this, I… I may as well get that out in the open as well.”

Oh. A few pieces slot into place, and Tim says with perhaps a bit more enthusiasm than necessary, “Oh. Why didn’t you tell—?” He cuts himself off and offers Jon a sheepish smile. “Sorry, sorry. That was rude of me. Thank you for telling me.”

“We’re dating,” Jon says bluntly. “It was going to come up eventually.”

“Still.” Tim shrugs, then reaches for Jon’s hand and holds it tightly in his. “Thanks.” He hesitates only a moment before leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to Jon’s nose. Jon makes a disgruntled noise, which Tim thinks is adorable. Then, because it feels appropriate, he says, “Y’know, Danny… Danny was asexual. Aromantic too, actually. We had a big talk about it a few years ago where he sort of… laid it all out for me.” No sex, no romance, no thank you, had been the overall gist of it. Tim makes a new box for Jon and fills it in with the words no sex, yes romance, it’s complicated.

“Oh,” Jon says quietly, with that same sort of sadness in his eyes that he gets every time Tim mentions Danny, something much gentler than pity and significantly less cloying. If Tim notices the faint discomfort that accompanies it, something that whispers that isn’t my definition of asexuality, we’re not the same, you don’t understand if one were to listen closely enough, he doesn’t let on.

Tim does, however, notice the discomfort in Jon’s eyes—now mixed with anger—when two years, six months, and seven days later, he accuses Tim of murder. But by then, their days of hand-holding and nose-kissing are far, far behind them.

.

.

.

“Maybe he just needs to get laid,” Melanie says with a groan, lying on Georgie’s couch and staring at the ceiling. The Admiral is curled up on her lap, purring contentedly. She scratches absentmindedly under his chin.

“What, Jon?” Georgie appears in Melanie’s field of vision, wielding a damp wooden spoon and frowning.

“No. No.” Melanie shakes her head emphatically. “Martin. He’s been all… sulky lately. I think he’s still upset that Jon came to me instead of him for help, but I don’t know why he has to be all… touchy about it.”

“Ah. Well, you know, he is a bit hung up on Jon. At least, according to you.”

“I don’t see how that’s my problem,” Melanie says grumpily. “Besides, didn’t you say that Jon went on about Martin, like, all the time? Sounds like he’s got it bad as well. Maybe they could just… y’know.”

“Melanie.”

“What?” Melanie tries to shoot Georgie a glare, but it’s obstructed by the back of the couch. “I’m on my last nerve, Georgie!”

“I know, honey. But Jon’s really not… well, he’s not very open about these sorts of things. Getting him to talk about his feelings was like pulling teeth when we were together.”

“It still baffles me that you used to date.”

“He’s very sweet when you get to know him!” There’s a pause, a few clatters from the kitchen. “Besides, even if he and Martin got around to talking, Jon… well, he doesn’t.”

Melanie frowns. “Doesn’t what?”

“Have sex.”

“Really?” Melanie sits up, disturbing the Admiral, who lets out an irritated mrpp before adjusting himself accordingly and curling back up on her lap. “So when you were together…?”

Georgie shakes her head. “Nope. Never.”

“Huh.” Melanie thinks for a moment. “Is he like… religious or something?”

Georgie chuckles. “Jon? No, not at all. He’s asexual.”

“Isn’t that like… that thing that sponges are? Where they self-reproduce?”

“Seriously?”

Melanie scowls at the incredulous look Georgie’s giving her. “What? I’m not being a- a dick, I’ve just never heard of it before.”

“You were a YouTuber. Your job was to be internet famous.”

“Okay, now you’re just making fun of me.”

Georgie shoots Melanie a grin. “Sorry. Basically, it means that Jon doesn’t do sex. Like… at all. He just… doesn’t.”

“Huh,” Melanie says again.

“Yeah.” Georgie turns back to the stove. “Now, come here. Tell me if there’s too much salt?”

“Sorry Admiral,” Melanie whispers as she deposits him onto the floor and crosses the room to wrap her arms around Georgie’s waist from behind and take the bite of sauce on the spoon Georgie holds out for her. “Mm, tastes great. As always.”

And in the back of her mind, Melanie adds another line to the section labeled Jonathan Sims and writes, with careful handwriting, he doesn’t.

.

.

.

Although… according to Georgie, Jon doesn’t.

Martin pauses the tape and rubs his hands over his eyes. His cheeks are burning red, and he takes a few minutes to just breathe.

Doesn’t what? Doesn’t date? Doesn’t kiss? Doesn’t—

Martin stops that train of thought before it goes any further, the flush on his face growing in intensity. It’s none of my business, he tells himself as he ejects the tape and turns it over in his hands a few times before sliding it back into the small box it had come from.

He still can’t help but think about it. He thinks about it before the Unknowing, when Jon hesitates just a moment before wrapping him in a tight hug and whispering, I… I’ll be back, Martin. Then we can talk. He thinks about it when Jon’s in his coma, when Martin sits at his bedside and loses himself in daydreams and what-ifs. He thinks about it when Jon’s hand is clasped in his and he’s leading Martin out of cloying white fog and sea-salt air, his shirt speckled with bits of dark liquid that Martin tries to pretend isn’t blood. He thinks about it on the way to the safehouse, Jon leaning against his side, Martin’s hand clasped firmly in his.

He thinks about it a lot, in the confines of the wooden walls that let in the growing chill of the Scottish countryside.

Jon doesn’t.

He knows what Jon does. Jon makes him breakfast most days, eggs and toast and sometimes waffles, which Martin’s always considered a guilty pleasure but that he’s had more times in the past week and a half than he’s had for the past ten years. Jon puts his head on Martin’s shoulder when they sit on the couch and read, flipping through the dusty novels they’d found tucked in cardboard boxes underneath the bed that Jon had wrinkled his nose at but has been slowly making his way through nevertheless. Jon clings to Martin like his life depends on it when they sleep, and Martin will wake in the morning with one arm slung across his chest, a leg between his, and a sizeable portion of hair tickling at his nose.

And, nine days into their stay, Jon smiles at Martin as he shuffles into the kitchen in the morning, stands on his toes, and presses a soft kiss to Martin’s lips.

“Um,” Martin says eloquently, still half-asleep and trying to process what he’s 98% sure is their first kiss. He’d be 100% sure except for the fact that Jon kissed him like it was nothing, like it was easy, like it was something they do every morning.

The smile slips from Jon’s face, and he looks nervous. “I- I’m sorry, I should have asked first—”

“No, no, it’s- it’s okay,” Martin hastens to say, taking one of Jon’s hands in his and squeezing gently. “Just- just surprised, that’s all. I, um. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to kiss me, given that we haven’t…” He gestures absently, his face heating up. Stop talking, Martin. “Yeah,” he finishes lamely.

“Oh,” Jon says with a frown. “I… apologize for giving you that impression. I- I love you, Martin—I have no problems with kissing you.”

Warmth courses through Martin, as it always does when Jon tells him that he loves him. It all feels so unreal sometimes that he’s here, with Jon, away from it all and living in quiet domesticity. “Oh,” he says, face flushed. “A- all right, then. Great!”

“Great,” Jon echoes.

“Just- just thought maybe you didn’t—”

Martin clamps his mouth shut, face heating up more, this time in embarrassment. Shut up, Martin.

Jon raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t… what?”

“Um.” Martin rubs a hand across the back of his neck. “Kiss?”

Jon looks at Martin blankly. “Oh. Well, I- I do.”

“Right, yeah, I- I put that together. When we, um. You know.”

Jon looks amused. “Kissed?”

“Yep, that,” Martin squeaks out.

They look at each other for a moment before dissolving into giggles. Jon presses another kiss to Martin’s lips and finishes making the waffles and kisses Martin again when he hands Jon his tea, and it’s really quite lovely indeed.

So Martin adds Jon kisses to his mental list of Jon does and finds a sole remainder on the list of Jon doesn’t. And it’s fine with him, he decides, if Jon doesn’t want to have sex. He just wants Jon, in whatever way Jon will have him.

Jon doesn’t do sex, he thinks as he kisses Jon goodnight.

So, three days later, when they’re on the couch and they’ve kissed until Martin is red-faced and breathless and Jon pulls back with a pinched expression on his face, Martin assumes—with hot embarrassment coursing through him—that he’s somehow gone too far and strayed into sex territory and made Jon uncomfortable.

Then, Jon says with cheeks dark and eyes focused resolutely on Martin’s chest, “Martin, would… would you like to move to the bedroom?” and Martin’s thoughts grind to a halt.

“Sorry, what?” is all he can think to say.

Jon’s cheeks grow incrementally darker. “I am asking,” he says slowly, like the words are clunky and unwieldy in his mouth, “if you would like to have sexual intercourse. With me, of course, I- I hope that was implied.”

Martin’s aware that his mouth is quite literally hanging open in shock. He closes it quickly before swallowing and saying, “I… yeah, Jon, I- I’d love that, but I thought you—”

He clamps his mouth shut again, a touch too late. Jon’s forehead creases in confusion and he says, “I what?”

Martin hems and haws for a moment before biting the bullet and saying, all in a rush, “I thought you didn’t like sex.”

Jon’s frown deepens. “What? Why?”

And god, Martin doesn’t want to admit that he’s been thinking about office gossip for nearly a year, but he’s dug his grave—he may as well lie in it. He sighs, worries his hands on his lap, and says, “I… may have listened to a tape where Melanie said that Georgie said that you… didn’t.”

Jon looks at Martin blankly for a moment before his expression flattens into something that’s equal parts irritated and resigned. “Ah. Right. That… that makes sense, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry, Jon,” Martin says emphatically, placing his hand atop Jon’s and squeezing. “I- I didn’t mean to hear it; I was listening to the statements and it was just there.”

“No, it’s… it’s not your fault.” Jon sighs and rubs a hand across his eyes. “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”

“What?”

Jon makes an aborted, dismissive gesture with his hand. “I’ve… never been good at explaining my own preferences. I never did with Georgie, just… told her I was asexual and left it at that. I suppose she took that to mean that I, er. Didn’t.”

Asexual. Martin has a vague notion of what that means—he’s been in enough online LGBTQ spaces to have encountered the word before, but he’s never really looked into it much himself. If pressed, he thinks he’d also assume it meant that Jon didn’t. Something a bit guilty twists within him at that thought, amplified by his next thought that Georgie shouldn’t have assumed, because, well, that’s a bit hypocritical, isn’t it? Still, he feels the need to voice it; he squeezes Jon’s hand again and says, “It’s not your fault that she just- just made assumptions about what you wanted, Jon.”

“Yes, but it’s my fault that I never corrected her.” Jon makes a face. “Or Tim, now that I think about it. I… I suppose I’m just not very good at talking about these things. Particularly because my own preferences are…” Jon’s pained expression deepens. “Christ, I don’t want to say complicated again, but there really is no other word for it.”

That’s not your fault either, Martin wants to say, but he knows Jon will just contradict him again, and he’ll repeat himself, and then they’ll just be talking in circles, and that won’t help anything. It’s frustrating, but it’s the truth. Still, Martin finds the words waiting on his lips when he opens his mouth, so he shuts it again and thinks for a moment, promising himself later. I’ll tell him later. Finally, he says carefully, “Do you… do you want to talk about it? We don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I don’t want to assume.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “Well, I don’t want to keep assuming, I suppose, given that I’ve already assumed quite a lot.” Quieter: “Sorry, again.”

“It’s fi—” Jon cuts off, takes a breath. “Th… thank you, Martin.” He hesitates a moment, then says haltingly, “I- I do want to talk about it, but I don’t—” He makes a frustrated noise. “—I don’t know how.”

“Okay,” Martin says after a moment. “You said it’s complicated, yeah?” When Jon nods mutely, he continues, “Would it help if you described how you feel right now? That’s- that’s less complicated, right?”

Jon’s mouth flattens into a thin line. “I… suppose.”

“All right, then.” Martin makes a go-on gesture, then rests his hand atop Jon’s and applies a gentle pressure.

Jon takes a few deep breaths, squints at nothing, makes a few wordless noises, then says bluntly, “I want to have sex with you.”

Martin tries really, really hard not to blush, but he doesn’t think he quite succeeds given how hot his face feels when he says, “Right, okay.” His voice is a bit higher-pitched than normal; he hopes that Jon doesn’t notice. “And, um. Do you always… want to have sex with me? Or just right now.”

Jon grimaces. “That’s where it gets complicated.” He makes an I-don’t-know gesture with his free hand and says, “No? Yes? I don’t know, Martin. I’m told that not wanting sex all the time is- is normal, that- that you have to be in the mood, but apparently I’m just supposed to know when I’ll be in the mood and when I won’t be, and that- that doesn’t really work for me.”

“Are you—” Martin cringes internally, but forces the words out. “—in the mood right now?”

“Well,” Jon grumbles, “not anymore, but I was. And it’s complicated, because even if I am, I- I don’t always want to be touched, but how do you explain that to someone, how- how do you tell someone that it’s mostly no but sometimes yes and there’s a very good chance that I might change my mind halfway through and decide that it’s no after all?”

“I think,” Martin says patiently, “that you just say that.”

Jon gives Martin a look. “Martin.”

“What? It’s true!” Martin gives Jon as reassuring a smile as he can muster. “It made sense to me, at least.”

“Yes, but that’s not—” Jon makes a frustrated noise. “It’s not whether or not it makes sense, it’s whether or not somebody is willing to put up with a sexual partner who doesn’t know whether or not they’re going to want to have sex on any given day, whether they- they’ll be repulsed or interested or want to give but not receive or the other way around or- or something else that I haven’t thought of but that will likely happen because consistency is, apparently, off the cards for me entirely.”

“Hey, hey,” Martin says gently, placing a hand on Jon’s shoulder and rubbing gentle circles with his thumb. “Jon, look at me.” When Jon looks, albeit reluctantly, Martin continues, “I can’t speak for other people, and I- I can’t tell you how to feel, but I can tell you how I feel, and I… I’m willing. No, more than willing—I love you, Jon, all of you, and if this is how you feel, then I love that about you too. Whatever you’re willing to give me, it… it’ll be enough. You’re enough.”

Jon’s cheeks darken and he looks away. After a long moment, he says in a stiff voice, “Well. Thank you, Martin.” Then, a bit softer: “I… I love you too.” He looks at Martin then and offers him a small, weak smile. “It’s… well, it’s still awkward, but it’s not quite as bad—talking about all of this—as I thought it would be.”

“Well, I’m glad you did. Talk to me about it, that is.”

Jon’s smile turns a bit hesitant. “So you would really be okay if I… if I never asked again? To, er. To have sex.”

“Yes,” Martin says, without hesitation.

“Oh,” Jon says quietly. “And- and if I said that I did? Want to? That… that would be okay too? Even if I’d already said that I didn’t?”

“Yep.”

Jon looks down at his hands where they’re twisted tightly in the hem of his jumper, then back up at Martin. “All right.” He hesitates a moment, then says, “And if… if I said that I wanted to have sex… now?”

Ah. It looks like Martin’s not done blushing quite yet. “Yep, that- that’s fine with me,” he squeaks out, then cringes internally. Fine? Really?

Thankfully, Jon doesn’t seem offended; if anything, he seems amused, his mouth quirking up into a small smirk. “All right, then.” He leans forward and presses a kiss to Martin’s lips, soft and chaste and ever-so-slightly lingering before he pulls away. “I, er. I think I’d like to just kiss for a bit, though.” His smile turns teasing. “Foreplay is very important, after all.”

Martin groans and gives Jon a look, his face likely fully tomato-red by now. “Jon.”

“Need to make sure we’re fully in the mood before beginning proceedings—”

“Yes, yes, you’ve made your point,” Martin says, a giggle slipping out around the words. Then, because he’s nothing if not a little mischievous himself, he leans forward and captures Jon’s lips in a kiss, significantly less chaste and a touch more insistent, pressing until Jon is leaned back against the arm of the couch and Martin is hovering over him. Martin disengages from the kiss so he can marvel at the flushed, wide-eyed expression on Jon’s face. “Like that?” he says innocently.

Jon blinks up at him for a few seconds, like he’s not entirely sure how to process everything in front of him, before he smiles, a warm, happy thing that captures Martin’s heart entirely and steals it away. “I do believe that was adequate, yes. Perhaps you should do it again though, just to make sure.”

So Martin does. I love him, he thinks as he kisses Jon on the couch and kisses him again on the bed, kisses him in the spot between his shoulder blades where he always carries tension and in the dip of his clavicle and on the inside of his thigh. And when he’s curled up next to Jon after, he presses another kiss to the crown of Jon’s head and wraps his arms around him and quietly discards his mental lists of does and doesn’t. He’ll start from scratch, he decides, and after a moment’s thought, he comes up with two more lists, upon which it’s surprisingly easy to add item after item after item.

Jon likes to be kissed. Jon likes eggs and toast, but not jam, and likes his tea black and slightly oversteeped. Jon doesn’t like wool because he finds it itchy. Jon doesn’t like white wine, but he likes red, the kinds that are too dry for Martin’s tastes.

Jon likes Martin, and Martin likes him too. So, so much. And even when things change, when Jon finds a white wine he likes at a restaurant they visit and he takes his tea once with honey and enjoys it and he goes through a period where he doesn’t enjoy open-mouthed kisses and Martin adjusts his lists accordingly, that remains.

[ckbookish]

BATMAN BINGO MASTER POST 2020

1 "I thought you were dead.": I Still See Your Ghost 

Today was just not Dick's day. First he overslept his alarm and was late to work. Amy had been less than impressed at his tardiness... Then He had bungled what should have been an easy take town... But the straw that broke the camel's back was Tim. Dick had forgotten to call Tim. 

2 Friendly fire: Fratricide 

Jason was pissed. No, Jason was enraged. Yeah, he was enraged at the whole mess his family-- if that’s even what they were to each other anymore-- had gotten him in. It was meant to be a simple night. Break in. Torch the drugs. Maybe shoot a couple of people and go home. But no, Batman heard about his plans and decided that arson was too extreme. “Someone could get hurt.” Well someone had gotten hurt, a lot of someones. 

3 Hypothermia: Weekend Commute 

Dick Grayson makes his way home during the first snow fall of the year, when he finds himself confused and cold, miles from home.

Chapter two Bruce's perspective.

4 Superman: Bringer of the Dawn

The Aftermath of when the Joker shoots Dick.

or

Where do you go when your family tells you to get out?

5 Shot: The Gratitude Trap

Bruce finds himself in the dark, a place he never thought he would be when it came to Clark Kent and Dick Grayson. Yet here he is digging for answers, because he is too scared to pick up the phone and call. 

6 Two-face: The Better Choice 

How do you reconcile the man who was once your friend with the monster he has become? Bruce reflects on how the man he once called his best friend changed. How could the man who helped him foster Dick, hold that baseball bat? 

7 Drowning: Omori’s Law

Deep in the sewer's under Gotham, Batman is trapped. There is no back up, no Robin. He is faced with the single truth that he tried to teach each of his partners... You have to save yourself. 

  8 Found Family: A Restoration from a Resilient Heart

Dick just wants to not be alone with the shadows in the house. Bruce doesn't realize he has lived with them for far to long, and maybe he doesn't have to anymore.

9 Adoption: The Irrefutable Truth

When he reached the reception, he found himself looking around a fairly empty room. There were a few call girls in the corner filling out forms, an older woman holding a dog, a kid that looked about twelve and a middle aged man who looked like he was ready to cry. He knew no one. Dick was about to turn around and head back to his desk when the on duty officer called out to him. Officer O’Conner was one of his fellow rookies, he had a thick accent. Dick thought he might be from Louisiana. “Grayson! Why didn’t you say your brother was coming to see you?” Dick looked at him with his mouth slightly open. There was no way he heard that right. “My what?” 

10 Bruises: Mr. Wayne

Tim is new to this. He's only been Robin for a little over six months. It was going well. But now he was going to be fired. Batman wouldn't want a partner who got caught at school with a black eye. Would he?

11 Bruce is dead: You Have One Saved Message 

Gotham gossip columns spread lies and smear good people's names. But yet Damian can't help but think maybe this mornings article was true.  That despite all his claims of being the true son of Bruce Wayne, he was in fact the only unwanted one.

12 CPR: Vital Signs 

Robin wakes to find him and Batman in an exploded factory. With Batman injured and the building burning around them, Dick struggles to get them both to safety.   

13 Dad:  Storge 

Bruce could have sworn his spirit had left him momentarily.  The sudden hollowness that filled him couldn’t be explained in any other way. 

 “Your dad must have his hands full with you.”  Elizabeth Ribbons leaned forward and patted Dick’s shoulder, as he reached for yet another slice of cheesecake from a passing waiter’s tray.  

Bruce fixed his eyes on the ice sculpture that hid him from view.  It suddenly seemed like the most interesting design in the world.  The soft lines of the ice on the otherwise insignificant over sized swan seemed like a lead shield...  Because Dick would read it easily in his expression. He wanted to be Dick’s dad.  But he wasn’t. 

14 Stealing the Batmobile: T-Minus Six Hours

Some days Tim is sure that he’s gonna be killed. Usually it’s some luck shot or near miss that made his life flash before his eyes. Not today though. Today he was positive Bruce was going to kill him. Yes, today was the day that Timothy Jackson Drake was going to be put down. He’s not sure that even Nightwing could save him. He was going to go down in history as the first sidekick to be murdered by their mentor. Because the Batmobile was definitely not where he’d parked it.

15 Wayne Enterprises: Amidst the Absence of Meaning 

Bruce is worried. He's running on less than three hours of sleep, and way too many cups of coffee. He had messed up. That much was obvious. The question was would Dick forgive him?

A gruesome night on patrol bleeds into Bruce's work day and now all he can wonder is if this is the thing that will push Dick over the edge? Had he finally seen to much pain?

16 Ransom: Sum of My Worth

The ring of the phone seemed to echo through the manor’s still too quiet long, winding halls, and everyone present collectively held their breath. Bruce lunged for the phone.   

17 Secret Injury: Hiding in Pain Sight

“What?” Dick asked sharper than he meant to. He was tired.

“Nothing.” Tim said with a small smirk. “Heavy is the head.”

Dick closed his eyes, glad that Tim couldn’t see them. He was so sick of this. Tim, Jason, Damian and Cass all didn’t think he was good enough, well Cass hadn’t said that, but Dick could read her. They didn’t think he was up to the job. Well they didn’t need to tell him that. He knew it.

18 Superboy: An Interlude in Breathing 

Tim looked out over the water in a daze. Bruce and Dick had gone somewhere below deck and he was alone. Well there were strangers on the ship mingling and talking excitedly--but Tim gave them no notice. Instead he watched the water lap up against the hull and crash down back to meet the dark, cold waters. They were far enough out that he could no longer see the shore. It was just endless expenses of sea and sky. Something tickled his neck and he started, only to realize he had been crying. It was only a tear slipping under his collar.

The days after the battle of Infinite Crisis

19 Betrayed: Smother

She took another drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke roll in her lungs for a long moment before allowing it hiss out between her teeth. The screams from the warehouse weren’t completely muffled by the distance, or the walls. Perhaps she was only imagining them. But then, sounds like that, she didn’t think she could dream up. She jumped after a particularly high pitched yelp. “Get a grip.” She dropped the cigarette and pulled out another. Her hand shook as she lit it. “It’s just some random kid. He’s not--” She bit back a sob. She didn’t deserve to cry. She had no right to tears, not when it was her fault.   

20 Crowbar: Breaklights

The mail fell to the ground and the paper smacked the tiles hard.  The sound in reality couldn’t have been all that loud, but it seemed to echo around the entryway.  Bruce didn’t look at the dropped bills and the invitation to a fundraiser for the new Gotham women’s shelter.  He was too fixated on the small stamp with the queen of England's head on it.  Wolverhampton.  

The large envelope was far heavier then it should have been.  Bruce could feel bile crawling up his throat.  

He had forgotten.

21 Deathstroke: Debts and Dues

There were some things that were never pleasant, getting caught in the snow without socks, losing your keys, and not being able to remember the name of a song. Having a gun pointed at your chest, Dick felt, qualified as extremely unpleasant. He stood stock still. The barrel of the gun was still hot, it burned slightly as it dug into his sternum. Even with his uniform he could still feel the heat left over from previous rounds fired. He didn’t flinch. He couldn’t flinch. “Move.” “You know I can’t.” Dick wondered if Slade had the guts to do it.   

22 Mission Gone Wrong: Murmur in the Quiet Hours

Superman? Clark froze. He knew that voice. But-- he had never heard it sounding so sad. Was that-- no. Clark dove for his phone, still on the counter from when he got home last night. The screen was black. Dead. Clark swore and dropped it. He was in his coat and shoes before it hit the counter top.   

23 Kidnapped:  Chum 

Dick trumped through the leaves, stopping his feet roughly. He relished the sound of the crunch beneath his shoes as he tread on the brown, dead leaves before him. He felt rather justified in his satisfaction. After all the world had taken so much from him, why wouldn’t he do his best to crush it in return. The woods were cool and as he went deeper into them they grew darker. The sun had long set, and the sky was quickly vanishing as the trees grew thicker. Wayne Manor was far behind him. He was never going back. He hated those pristine walls, those old floor boards. He hated the quiet. He hated the stuffy furniture and the rules and the vases and pictures. He hated his new guardian and that… that… Dick couldn’t remember what Alfred was called, but he hated it. The bag on his back felt heavy. It had everything Dick owned in it. Well and a toothbrush that Alfred had given him. But he didn’t think that was really stealing. 

24 Riddler: Seeking Silence on Shortwaves

Normally Dick would be happy to listen to Tim talk. In fact, Dick thought it was one of his favorite sounds in the world. Tim rarely allowed himself to be excited about things. Hearing him speak so freely and openly to Bruce and him about his plans was refreshing. Dick only wished it wouldn’t be at the cost of his life.

Batman hadn't always been so strict about talking unnecessarily over comms. When it was just two of them it hadn't mattered, their walkie talkie system had always worked. But now that Nightwing and Robin were in Gotham, it seems insane that they never realized: if only one person can talk over the radio at a time... how could they call for help?

25 Mr. Freeze: Glimpsing the Sun While Trapped in the Rime

He almost called Bruce between his fourth and fifth class. He pulled his phone out, leaning against his locker, and half dialed his number when a warm hand fell on his shoulder. “Hey.” Dick spun around and blinked back black spots as his body protested the sudden movement. A blaze of red hair filled his vision and Dick felt a small fire build in his chest. His face split into a wide smile.

After a run in with Mr. Freeze Dick finds himself feeling odd at school, but he can't go home, not when Barbara's asked him to drive her to Betty's party after school.

[collectivefandomstuff]

Title: A Hindering Hand Type: Fanfic, crossposted to AO3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270097) Status: Complete. Chapter: 1/1. Fandom: DC/Batman Rating: T Warnings: Language. Beta: No beta we die like Jason Todd and also Damian Pairings: None. Word Count: 4k+ Genre: Humour/Comedy Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne. Summary: When Dick is refused the opportunity to coddle Damian, he decides to lavish his other siblings with his questionably helpful assistance. They are palpably ungrateful.

Excerpt: Damian didn’t answer the first time, so Jason made use of his annoying gene(s) and called him over and over until he picked up. “Todd,” Damian snarled, “I am at school. I realise that you were incapable of finishing your formal education but-” “Your fucking Dick of a brother broke into my apartment and re-decorated my living room.” Jason informed him. 

”You have got to be kidding me.”

Jason stared at what used to be his perfectly clean kitchen; now a hollowed out shell of its former self. Cabinet doors were thrown open, his carefully organised supplies haphazardly shuffled around. Every single counter and parts of the floor was covered in flour, cocoa, and something wet and heretofore unidentified. He didn’t even want to look closer at the stove or the sink, both filled with sticky, clearly misused, pots and pans. There was a smell hanging in the air, the same one that had set his inner alarm bells off when he entered the apartment: burnt sugar and something that smelled suspiciously like rotten fruit. Jason took a deep breath to stop himself from just whipping out his guns and shooting at the mess. It would be cathartic, but ultimately unhelpful. Instead, he fished his phone out of his front pocket and thumbed through his contacts.

He got through two rings before the line opened.

“He got you too?” Tim said on the other end. His tone reminded Jason of Bruce, which was usually a clear indication that Tim was fucking done.

“How can he be this useless?” Jason ground out.

“He was raised by Alfred.”

“So was I. And you.” “Fine. He was spoiled by Bruce.” “uh-huh,” Jason agreed, daring to move into his living room. Thankfully, the carnage hadn’t spread there, though there was an oven pan, placed strategically in the middle of his coffee table. The contains looked like what Jason imagined “dubious food” in Zelda looked like in real life. “I have to stop hanging out with you,” he told Tim. “Why?” “I just made a video game reference in my head.” “Which game?” “Not the point.” “I mean-” Tim began, but before he got any further into arguing why the specific game was “of import” to the discussion -fucking dweeb -Jason cut him off: “I’m going to kill him.” Tim was quiet for a moment. “What did he do exactly?” “Hi Little Wing,” Jason recited from the note that had been stuck underneath his brand new fucking oven pan Dick you bastard that was expensive. “I made you some brownies!” Jason stopped to look closer at the brown sludge that he was pretty sure was stuck to the bottom of his new pan. Martha herself recommended it, Dick goddammit. “I hope they turned out all right! Don’t work too much! D.” There was a pause. “Did they turn out all right?” asked Tim. “No,” Jason gritted his teeth, “No, they did not.” “He’s really on a spree this week.” “Yeah?” Jason muttered absently, poking at the sludge with his gloved finger. It jiggled. Somehow, that made everything so much worse. “Mm,” Tim said, and Jason could hear the tapping of computer keys in the background which meant that he had about 30% of Tim’s attention. “He hit Cass and Steph a few days ago. I guess since Cass is staying there when she’s in town he thought it was two for one. Tried to do their laundry.” “Why haven’t they killed him?” “They’re working on big drug bust. So, no time.” “Well I have time.” Jason groused, already trying to reorganize his plans for the evening. He would need at least three hours to repair the damage Dick had done to his kitchen. “Good,” Tim said, his voice cold, “because so do I.” Jason stopped trying to figure out how many new appliances he would need to buy to focus for a moment. “What did he do to you?” Tim was silent for a long while, then: “He tried to clean my apartment.” Jason shuddered. On one hand, he understood the compulsion. His replacement’s usual idea “clean” was “nothing hazardous is currently growing somewhere”. Still, the only thing worse than Dick trying to clean was Bruce trying to clean. Or cook. Or do laundry. Or vacuum. The Batman he may be, but Jason had never met a more incompetent homemaker in his life. Once, Bruce had tried to dust a little and they had to call the fire department. “And?” He prompted. “He moved everything,” Tim said, deceptively calm, “and threw out at least thirty-four irreplaceable things.” Oh shit. There was a reason why Jason stomped down the urge to clean Tim’s apartment. He once moved an old magazine when the younger boy wasn’t even there and the next day he got received three upset calls and a computer virus for his trouble. “He re-organised my desk. My cases. My clues.” Tim continued to rattle off. “And he didn’t even manage to clean properly. I’m pretty sure he tried to scrub my TV with vinegar.” Jason bit his lip to keep from laughing. Looks like Tim got it worse. “Shut up,” said Tim grouchily. “I didn’t say anything.” “You were laughing at me.” How- Jason’s hand clenched around the phone. “I told you to stop putting cameras in my apartment.” Tim snorted. “So find them and take them down. Think of it as practice,” he said, lilting the word “practice” in the same way Bruce usually did. “You’re such a creeper.” “Says the murderous crime lord.” “At least I’m not a stalker.” “Have you checked your bottom cabinets yet?” Jason stilled at the sudden change of subject. “Why?” “Looks like the re-organising urge lived on.” Oh, he had better fucking not. Jason stepped back into his kitchen and, with the care of someone opening a bomb case, edged open the door to his pots- and pans cabinet. He came face to face with his toaster, nestled between a pasta drainer and three boxes of cereal that he had not owned this morning. It was the sugary shit too. “Son of a-” “I think he put your spatulas in the fridge,” Tim said cheerily. Jason was going to wring his little neck. Right after he had stomped on Dick until the unbridled rage in his chest went away. “This is why I don’t want any contact with this family for-” “You know why he’s doing this right?” Tim queried lightly. Jason frowned. “I don’t keep track of the family gossip, pretender. I have better things to do with my time.” Tim made an offended noise at being called “pretender”. “Fine. Then why don’t you try to make him stop and call me when he’s tried to clean your guns?” Jason rolled his eyes. The dramatics, honestly. Bruce 2.0. “Why is he doing this, Tim?” He asked reluctantly. Tim sniffed. “Damian told Dick that he wasn’t needed at the moment, which was the little brat’s way of trying to get Dick to take some time to de-stress, but obviously Dick took this to mean that Damian has cast him aside and considers him a bad parental figure.” Jason spent a good few seconds rethinking the whole “moving back to Gotham” idea. He could just… leave and never talk to this insane family ever again. It was entirely doable. Just, one little call to Roy and hasta la vista you absolute nutjobs. He sighed. “So we have to talk to the demon child?” He asked tiredly. “Yeah pretty much.” “I still think my first plan was better.” “If you kill Dick, the family will never leave you alone.” That was a surprisingly good point. Dammit. “Can I punch him a little?” “I’d encourage it.” “Hey,” said Jason suspiciously, “just what are you planning to do him exactly?” “Honestly?” Tim replied. “I’m going to send a false tip to the department of Agriculture, fabricate evidence, and make them recall his favourite cereal.” Jesus fucking Christ this family was a pizza bagel of crazy with a sociopath topping.

-

It took them a while to track down Robin during patrol, and when they managed to find him they were met with immediate resistance. Which, taking into consideration who they were, wasn’t all that surprising. “Calm down.” Red Hood said placatingly while he jumped out of range from Robin’s swords. “We just wanted to talk to you about N-” He dodged a batarang that was clearly aimed at his throat. Add psychopath topping to that pizza bagel. “Would you knock it off,” Red Robin snarled, spinning out of the way when Robin spun to aim a kick at his stomach. Hood seized the opportunity and darted in to restrain the tiny beast that, let’s be real, was absolute proof that Bruce should not be allowed to procreate. Robin thrashed in his hold for a good three minutes before he finally settled down, glaring murderously at Red. “What do you want?” Robin spat. Even when Hood could feel him literally vibrating with supressed rage, he still kept perfect syntax. No abbreviations here. Little freak. “We need you to call N,” Red said. He looked a little ruffled and more than a little miffed. “I will do no such thing,” Robin sniffed. “Think again,” Hood said in his ear, letting his voice drop into a menacing tone. “Look,” Red Robin said. His hair was sticking up at the back after the struggle and he looked real fed up with this. Hood could relate. “N is running himself ragged trying to prove he’s a good parent or something and you need to make him quit before he injures himself.” Robin stilled. “What would Grayson be doing that would cause him such stress?” “He’s cooking,” Hood drawled. “And cleaning,” Red added. Robin’s whole body tensed. “I will take care of it.” He declared imperiously. Hood looked at Red, who shrugged. Yeah, good enough, I guess.

-

It was not good enough, he guessed, Jason realised as he took in what used to be his living room, but was now a cut out of a living room no one would ever willingly ”live” in from Garishly Tasteless Designs Magazine. He had his phone up and dialling before his eyes had even swept up the full length of the dirt-yellow curtains. It took a while to get the full effect of them, because he kept getting distracted by the frills and the suspiciously Nightwing-esque pattern. “Yeah?” Tim answered on the other end of the line. His voice said he was knee deep in something and wasn’t really paying attention. Probably his revenge plan, which Jason was seeing in a whole new light right now. “He redecorated.” Jason’s voice was so low it was almost a growl. There was a pause. “It didn’t stop?” Tim sounded much more alert and aware this time. “No it did I just went out and bought this lime green couch myself from Blind, Bath and Beyond,” Jason snapped. He heard Tim groan into the receiver. “But we even talked to Damian,” his replacement whined. Like he had anything to complain about. His living room didn’t have- was that a fucking Billy the Bass? Jason was going to shove his guns so far- “I’m calling the brat,” Jason ground out before hanging up and redialling. Damian didn’t answer the first time, so Jason made use of his annoying gene(s) and called him over and over until he picked up. “Todd,” Damian snarled, “I am at school. I realise that you were incapable of finishing your formal education but-” “Your fucking Dick of a brother broke into my apartment and re-decorated my living room.” Jason informed grimly. “He- you must be mistaken.” “Look, kid, there aren’t a lot of things I know, what with my not completing my formal education and all, but if there is one thing I will never unlearn it’s how to spot Dick Grayson’s fucking taste in fabrics.” “I see.” No, you little shit. You don’t see. Jason was the one who was cursed with seeing this absolute monstrosity of a- was that crystal?! “You said you were handling it,” Jason reminded him, firmly putting his back to the living room. Looking at it was bad for his blood pressure. “I do not understand.” Damian said seriously. “I specifically told Grayson to stop bothering you and go back to Blüdhaven where he could be of use.” Oh. Oh Damian. Jason resisted the urge to smack the phone into his face. Sometimes Damian’s age and social inexperience really shone through. Jason took a deep breath to keep from screaming. “Listen, Damian.” Jason said carefully. “Dick is feeling a little neglected right now, and what he needs, what we asked you to do, was to start hanging out with him again.” “-tt-” Damian was probably rolling his eyes. Jason could have Tim check later, he was sure the little creep had cameras in every building in the city. “That is preposterous!” “No,” Jason said dangerously, “it’s not. So now would you just call him and tell him you need help with your homework or something?” It was truly a testament to Jason’s level of desperation that he was willing to be this nice and patient. “Grayson needs to rest-” “Just FUCKING CALL HIM!!” Ok, so there was a limit to that patience. Oh well, he was only human. Damian, however, apparently thought that this was one indignity too far because the call disconnected. Jason glanced behind him and immediately regretted it. Porcelain figurines. Oh, how he missed the days when he was a big-name villain, and the only thing Dick did was fight him. In the corner, a cuckoo clock struck seven and a tiny robin popped out and chirped at him. Jason’s vision blurred with sickly green for a moment. Yeah, he was staying in a safe house tonight.

-

It took for days of no progress and Tim having his entire coffee-stash replaced with decaf (“cheap decaf, Jason. Low-level, buy in bulk decaf.”) before they threw in the towel and went to the manor. The estate looked as menacing to him now as it had when Jason first saw it as a little kid from Crime Alley. It probably always would, no matter how many times he was back. If Tim was feeling apprehensive, it didn’t show. He just looked grumpy, like a particularly displeased cat. His replacement rapped his knuckles on the door and stepped back to cross his arms, frowning. He looked very intimidating. Like a squirrel with an anger management problem. The door swung open to reveal Steph, dressed in a t-shirt that Jason was pretty sure wasn’t supposed to be a splotchy pale blue. Her jeans looked new. “He’s not here,” Steph told them in a biting tone. “Who?” Tim asked. “Dick. Though for the record we have to come up with a new name for him because ‘Dick’ is going to be real ironic soon.” And whoa, Steph did know how to look properly intimidating. “What’d he do?” Jason asked her. Stephanie stepped back to let them inside. “There was an incident with a waffle iron,” she said icily. “He tried to cook?” Tim guessed, taking off his shoes. “He tried to laminate.” Steph corrected. Tim grimaced. “Is Damian here?” Steph snorted. “Damian is useless. We need to strike back.” She lowered her voice, her eyes cold. “And strike hard.” Damn, if this continued, Dick wouldn’t even be allowed back into Gotham. Actually, yeah he would. Only Batman could bar people from entering Gotham, apparently. Because Bruce was only one with any rights around here, that fucking- He was getting off subject. Also, not paying attention. “-alking to Dick,” Tim was saying, “trying to talk to him is a good way to make this worse.” “I wasn’t suggesting we talk to him.” Steph said, cracking her knuckles. Tim looked unimpressed, which frankly impressed Jason a little. Stephanie was scary. Not Batman scary but- Hang on. “Hang on,” Jason said, holding his hand up for emphasis, “Batman is the only one who can bar someone from coming to Gotham.” “What the hell is your point, zombie boy?” Steph asked, crossing her arms. “We don’t need to redirect Dickies attention back to Damian. We just need to redirect it. To someone.” Jason grinned at them and it probably only looked about 30% insane. “Someone with the power to stop him.” Understanding dawned on Stephanie and Tim’s faces. “Someone who deserves to have his clothes ruined,” Steph whispered reverently. “Someone who has time to redecorate because he doesn’t have a job,” Tim added gleefully, “someone who flounces into board meetings too late and does nothing.” “Exactly.”

-

Tracking down Nightwing turned out to be the easiest thing they’d had to do so far. He didn’t even try to avoid them. “Hey guys!” N smiled cheerily at them as if he hadn’t spent the last two weeks putting them through some kind of Donna Reed inspired psychological torture. “Nightwing.” Red Robin greeted coldly and, yeah, in costume the replacement could totally pull off intimidating. “Whoa, what’s with the murder faces?” Nightwing said, stepping off the ledge he’d been standing on and walking closer. Hood crossed his arms. “You’ve been busy lately,” he commented and even the helmet couldn’t filter away the unvoiced insult at the end. “I guess?” N replied. “Did you like the brownies?” Hood tried to remember that they weren’t here to beat him senseless. Based on Spoiler’s clenched fists it seemed like he wasn’t the only one struggling with that. “N,” Red Robin said with the calm voice he usually reserved for interrogating suspects, “we appreciate you trying to… help us.” On “help us” Red’s voice broke through the calm and straight into “I’m going to kill you and bury you in store-brand decaf coffee” territory. “But we really are doing fine on our own.” Nightwing pursed his lips. “You are all working so hard-” he started, but Red cut him off. “Yes, and that’s why we appreciate it. But we’re actually worried about someone else, who needs your help a lot more than we do.” Nightwing paused and Hood could almost see the gears in his head whirring. “Who? Damian?” “Not Damian,” Red said, because they all knew it wouldn’t work to say it was Damian, “B.” Nightwing crossed his arms. “You think B needs help?” And here was the fragile part of their plan. Hood cleared his throat. “B,” he said, trying to keep his tone civil, “works himself to the bone and he doesn’t accept help from any of us.” “He has Alfie though,” N argued. “Alfie is busy taking care of Damian, since you’re not helping him as much anymore.” Spoiler rebutted. And damn, blondie, good answer. “We struggle too,” Red said, “but we help each other, right guys?” “Uh-huh,” Spoiler agreed. “Right.” Hood lied, thankful that the helmet veiled his eyeroll. “You guys help each other out,” Nightwing said with obvious disbelief. “You.” “Red is always helping me with cases,” Spoiler said, “and studies and stuff too. And I help him with staying alive and acting like a human.” Red nodded. “And Red and I work together on cases,” Hood said truthfully. “And sometimes Hood makes sure I eat and stuff,” Red added, “and I help him with security.” “They also hang out and play video games and watch nerdy movies,” Spoiler revealed. The little snitch. “Really?” Nightwing said, looking between the three of them. “That’s great!” He shuffled around a little. “So, you guys don’t need me either, huh?” Oh god. Oh dear god it was the voice. The patented Richard Grayson sad-and-feeling-neglected voice. The voice that could inspire shame and guilt in the most hard boiled criminal. At least he was wearing the mask so he couldn’t give them the accompanying puppy eyes. “Well,” Spoiler said and Hood could see her wavering. She didn’t have the years of experience needed to withstand Dick’s manipulation. “But B does!” Tim exclaimed, dragging Spoiler to stand behind him. Good move. “And the little brat too, even though he doesn’t admit it.” Hood added. Nightwing bit his lip. “Look,” Red’s voice was genuine now, “we all really do appreciate it, but B and Dami need your help more. And frankly, the last time I saw B he looked dead on his feet. We’re all good. But he isn’t. He sleeps less than I do.” Maybe that was even true. Huh. Were they doing B a solid here? Wait, no. No they weren’t. It was recommended by Martha, Dick you absolute menace. “Ok, I hear you.” N said solemnly. “I just wanted to help out.” Martha. Think about Martha. “We know,” Red said, patting N on the back. It was really awkward. “Did I tell you B has started eating power bars for dinner?” “Wait, seriously?” Nightwing looked disturbed. “That’s so bad for you.” “Yeah,” Hood said as if he hadn’t watched Red do that at least three dozen times, “he’s really setting a bad example for li’l D, isn’t he?” He thought Red might have done the wave if he could have. Hood certainly wanted to give himself the wave for that stroke of genius. “Okay, I know you guys are manipulating me,” Nightwing told them drily. Shit. “But you have a point.” Oh thank Jesus. N stretched. “Well,” he said, “I’m going to make sure B doesn’t kill himself. And yes, I’ll stop helping you guys.” He shook his head. “You three should really open up more, you know?” They nodded, because at this point they would do anything to make him stop “helping out”. Red cleared his throat. “So, good luck, uhm...” Nightwing grinned. “I’ll stop, but you all have to give me a hug before I leave.” Fuck. N pounced on Red like a jaguar on a gazelle, completely ignoring the scandalised (and very undignified) “meep” Red let out. Hood turned around, ready to make a run for it. “If you leave before a hug I’ll make you dinner next time!” Nightwing called cheerfully, still holding onto Red Robin like he was a life vest. Triple fuck. Hood sighed. The things you do to not have your living room secretly re-decorated.

-

As awful as it was to get cuddled by Nightwing, it was all worth it about a week later, when Tim climbed in through his living room window for their bi-weekly movie night. This week: when the great go bad- The Godfather 3, X-Men: The Last Stand, and Matrix Reloaded and Revolutions. “I see you got rid of the ruffles,” Tim remarked. “You didn’t see that on your stalker cam?” “I’ve been busy watching Bruce lately.” “Oh?” Jason prompted, putting the pizza boxes on the coffee-table. “He tried to call me five times today,” Tim said. He walked over and got two beers out of the fridge. Jason sniggered. “It’s that bad?” “He’s only got one target now. B is about to break.” “Tell me more, tell me more,” Jason said, making himself comfortable on his new -fucking stylish thank you very much -couch. “Like, did he do something to his car?” “I can’t believe you just made a Grease reference, you absolute nerd,” Tim commented flatly. “Musicals are cool,” Jason told him. Because it was true and he would fight anyone who said otherwise. “Was Olivia Newton John your childhood crush or something?” “Who’s to say it wasn’t Travolta?” Tim gave him a deadpan stare. “Because,” he said drily, “unlike Dick, you actually have taste.” Jason mulled that over. “Touché." He shrugged. "Now tell me about B.” Tim looked up from where he was connecting his computer to the TV and grinned sharply. “You want to experience what the Germans call ‘Schadenfreude’?” “Hell yeah I do.” Tim hit a key on his laptop and the Cave flickered into view on Jason’s TV. At least, he thought it was the cave. “Is that?” “He re-decorated the cave.” Tim laughed. It was not a nice laugh. Jason approved. On the screen, Bruce had just entered through the door to the storage area and was making his way to the computer. Trailing after him with a plate of questionable looking sandwiches was Dick. Jason nabbed a beer from the coffee table and leaned back against the couch. “Oh we are so watching this tonight. Sofia can wait.” “I made a compilation of the past week,” Tim said smugly, picking up the other beer and folding himself into Jason’s new armchair. It was beige and, most importantly, neither pea-green nor suede. On screen Bruce collapsed into his new, avant-garde office chair and put his head in his hands while Dick chatted pleasantly in his ear. “You know,” Tim said thoughtfully while Dick re-arranged Bruce’s files, “sometimes I think he’s being purposefully bad at this.” “Why?” “Oh just,” Tim reached for the pizza and Jason handed him the box, “whenever he starts doing this, we all have to interact with each other to make him stop. Like how you and I only started hanging out to begin with because he kept breaking into our safe houses to make ‘breakfast’. Well, that and that time he gave you a haircut in you sleep.” Jason stilled with his beer halfway to his mouth. “He…” Oh god. “That’s totally what he’s doing isn’t it?” Tim looked at him over his slice of pepperoni. “Yeah, probably.” Jason slammed his bear down on the table. “THAT SNEAKY FUCKING BASTARD!” Jason glared at Tim, the proof of Dick's successful manipulation. He didn't even like the replacement. Why the hell was he hanging out with him? Stupid, meddling big brothers who ruin your life. "It's okay," Tim reached over and patted his hand, "I just confirmed that they're taking his cereal off the shelves this week." And yeah, that made it a little better, actually. "I still don't like you." He told Tim. "I know. Wanna watch Bruce find out that Dick redid his wardrobe?" "Yeah ok," Jason grumbled. Maybe, he admitted to himself only, the replacement wasn't all bad. The screen zoomed in on Bruce's expression as he came face to face with a sequined suit. Yeah, Jason thought, taking another sip of beer, not all bad.

[miss-choco-chips]

Umm... I was wondering if you could Maybe do a follow up on your mini fic Last Line from dicks pov? It gave me alot of feelings and i would love to see the fallout?

Your work is really good! Its so cool how your brave enough to put pieces of yourself out there for other people!

Hey babe! Thank you for your kind words! It made me smile getting this, you are very sweet <3

I totally forgot about Last Line lol, but when I saw it reminded me that I actually wrote a bit more of it, both before and after the scene I posted. So, this isn’t exactly what you asked, but here’s some backstory and then the fallout!

---.---

Four years old, and he watches the red string on his finger pulled taunt towards the crying boy, the color of the thread well disguised among the red blood of the murdered acrobats.

Nine, and he watches from the shadows as it swings right and left, following Robin’s pirouettes from building to building. The thread, that usually goes a few feet before ‘vanishing’ from sight, was almost completely visible now, at such a short distance from the person holding onto its other end.

He’s on his twelve when he tries to explain to Dick the importance of him going back home. He wasn’t sure of his success, even though the older hero took him to the manor, because during his whole speech, Nightwing hadn’t looked up from the red joining them together. It wasn’t exactly how Tim wanted him to find out, but… Batman needed a Robin, and he was out of options.

At fourteen, he feels Kon’s hand clenching on his shoulder, as they both watch from the side how Nightwing swept Barbara off her feet and twisted her around, laughter falling from both their lips even as Dick thread’s end was pointing towards Tim. The third Robin didn’t turn to look at his best friend, didn’t meet Bart’s eyes or react to Cassie taking his hand on hers. He just made sure his face was perfectly devoid of any emotion when he muttered, low enough only a kryptonian would hear, ‘I wish it was any of you’. 

(A few nights later, when he and Conner were sitting quietly on the Tower’s roof, the clone took Tim’s hand with his own, his lack of red string blatantly obvious as he said ‘If I had any, I wish it could be you’. To this day, it’s the sweetest thing anyone ever said to him)

He is so, so tired, and he’s only sixteen. But keeping up with the shitfest that was the Battle for the Cowl, helping Dick while ignoring his red string (pulling him towards Nightwing, now Batman, stark contrast against the dark of his suit, with distracting insistency), dealing with Damian’s abuse as expected of him as the ‘mature, older brother’, coping with Bruce’s death, the shock of Dick throwing him, his soulmate, away so so easily…

(Shouldn't be surprising; Dick had been discarding him in favor of others since they met, shamelessly displaying his various relationships in front of him with an attitude that might be called cruel from anyone else but that just earned him playful shoves from other Leaguers while Tim was expected to swallow his pain, because a red string isn’t a promise, Dick is free… and yes, he knows that, but it doesn’t mean shit to his dying heart)

(Maybe, when he left for proof of Bruce being alive, it wasn’t so much for his old mentor than it was for himself)

----.----

Tim is seventeen and halfway across the world, looking at the string attached to his hand that never truly meant anything to any other than him (not to Bruce, who never took Dick aside and talked to him about consideration with his soul mate; not Dick's conquers, who never gave a fuck  about the red string in the hands that touched their skin, even when a lot of them knew who was on the other end of it; not Dick himself, who after asking every thing out of Tim and having it, forcefully took the one thing Tim wouldn't give by choice and claimed Tim was his equal, his soulmate, so he never could be his sidekick... even if it was the first time ever that Dick even mentioned the string tying them both together), when he thinks 'you were always free; now, I'm freeing myself’.

He gingerly bites on the string, and with his other hand takes a handful of it and pulls.

The pain piercing his heart is expected, but not new. He had been feeling it since the first time he saw Dick's back as he walked away with someone else.

He times it carefully, too. He doesn't think Dick would care, but just in case, Tim waits until it's morning in Gotham, when he's sure Dick is probably sleeping after patrol.

Maybe he would wake up without noticing

---.---

In Gotham, Dick is carried by Alfred and Damian to the cave, when the new Batman's screams of pain woke everyone in the Manor up. They are suspecting cardiac arrest, and then Dick looks down to his hand and notices the string, always tense, signaling him where his north is, where Tim is, laying loose and lifeless.

He panics, asks Superman to track Tim down or something, and when the man confirms Tim is still alive somewhere in the Middle East, he knows.

And like a freight train, the parting words Kori told him the last time they saw each other hit him right in the chest.

"He isn't going to wait for you forever"

----.-----

When Tim does come back, at nineteen, it’s a quiet thing. 

He spent the last how many days carefully setting his systems up, making sure his mainframe would outstand Oracle’s scrutiny when she realized he was back in town and tried to hack her way into his life.

(He didn’t blame her, of course not. Dick was charming enough, good enough, anyone he set his eyes into would be helpless to nothing but fall in his arms.

And, wasn’t Tim the one who would have been intruding, had he tried to chase after the first Robin? Everyone knew he and the original Batgirl were a perfect match, thousands of times better than Tim, whom Fate just wanted to screw over.

But not anymore)

The first thing he did, once the safe houses were chosen and his programs up and running, was to ruthlessly hack into the Batcomputer and take a look at patrol routes. 

He would need to keep clear of Diamond District and Old Gotham, least he risked crossing paths with B and R. The Financial and City Hall Districts were apparently Batgirl’s playground for the night, and if he wanted to drop by and let Cass know he was back, he could always search for her by the Upper West Side down to Chinatown.

He would avoid the Upper East Side like the plague, though. Maybe Coventry too, just to be safe. Lots of skintight blue in that direction.

Which left… Crime Alley, the Bowery and Burnley, mainly. He needn't check to know who’s house that was.

And that’s how he ended, on his very first night back on the streets, dragging Red Hood’s bleeding ass away from a blowing up building.

-----.-----

Apparently, saving a recently rehabilitated murderous vigilante was a bonding experience, because Jason didn’t kick him out of his side of town, nor tell on him. 

He couldn't, however, do anything to prevent the criminal gossip mile from spreading, and before a week had passed, half the city was aware of the new player on the board.

-----.------

Jason was taking a breather, smoking while sitting on his favorite rooftop, when the rustling sound of fabric told him his peace and quiet was over.

“I thought you were back at being N”, he greeted, not bothering to turn around or get up. 

“B was out of town, and Robin needed someone to watch over him during patrol.”

A quick glance around had Hood snorting, “Then y’re doing a shitty job. Don’t see the midget anywhere.”

It would never NOT be weird to hear a strangled laugh coming out of the Bat suit, as tight and humorless as it was now. It seemed big ol Dick wasn’t doing so great tonight.

“Batgirl took him to a party in Diamond District. Gang war.”

He humms in response, not bothering to keep on the smalltalk. N, no, B was here for something, and it wasn’t Jason’s job to ask it out of him; if it was important, he would do it himself.

“Where is him, Hood?”, he finally went to the heart of the matter. 

Jason tilted his head, still looking over his city, unmindful of the steps coming closer to his position, “Robin? Ya just said it, B. Going senile? Gang war, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t play around. You know I mean…”

Oh, yeah, Dickie still wasn’t sure what to call Timbo. Criminal gossip only went so far, for someone who didn’t bother to shout his hero name to everyone he beat up. It was very possible only  Jason was aware of his new monicker. All gothamites knew was a young vigilante showed up recently, wearing red and black and hanging out with the Hood, which immediately upped his street rep to ‘not to be fucked with’.

“Lil red?”, he completed for his older brother, feeling both charitable and petty. Batman’s wince was more evident by the rustling sound of his cape; he had hit a sore spot, hadn’t he? 

“Where? I’m not asking again.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not answering. Must be ‘roundere somewhere, the little creep.”

“Hood, I’m running out of patience.”

“And I’m out of cigarettes, your point? I don’t have him on a leash asshole. We just share the same hunting space, it’s not like we go home together and do face masks while we talk about feelings.”

They did go to a safespot, though, and share beer and pizza while cursing their relatives and Fate as a whole, but it wasn’t necessary information for the fucker. He just breathed in the last of his smoke before dropping the cigarette butt and stepping on it, stretching as he did.

“Now, any more of this riveting conversation, or can I go? No, wait, it was a rhetorical question; get out of my part of town, ass. I’ve been plenty generous by letting you come this far, but our truce lasts as long as the lot of you don’t build any sandcastles on my playground and you know it. Now, scram.”

He could feel Dick’s reticence at leaving without what he came here for, but Oracle must be talking him into letting it be for tonight, because he didn't push. Jason turned just in the right moment to catch the way Dick looked down to his gloved hand, as if expecting the lifeless red string to be pulled taunt in Tim’s direction by some miracle. Jason felt the smallest ping of pity, quickly washed away by the memory of the younger hero’s haunted eyes as he told Jason the story of his severed soul bond and how he came to do it.

Thirty seconds after the bat vanished into the night, a little red bird landed softly on the spot next to him.

“Thanks, Hood”, he muttered, just as tired and hurting as he’d been ever since he saved Jason’s ass and they became partners, but with the smallest hint of lightness that made him prouder of driving Dick away than he’d ever been.

“Don’t mention it, but fair warning, the big B scomin back home in a few days, and he’s harder to kick out than a hurting, annoying bluebird.”

“I know”, Tim sighed, well aware of both facts. “I’ll play it by ear. For tonight, what about bashing some skulls and ruining Two Face’s new op? Good intel says it’s just a few blocks from here, and shattering bones always makes you smile.”

“Babybird, you speak the language of love.”

“Wasn’t that french?”

“I’m trying to compliment you, don’t be a smart ass about it.”

“I am smart, and I do have a good ass. That seems like an impossible request.”

----.----

[sparkleofpizza]

The archer - Tim Drake x reader 5/?

Requested: no

Warnings: Death, blood, cursing, mentions of Arrow tv show

Taglist: @isthataladybag @the-fandom-ness @takoyakkun @caswinchester2000 @malfoys-demigod @n1ghtsh4d3-67

Summary: Y/n Queen will be living in the Wayne Manor for a while, and Dick Grayson decided to be the cupid between her and his little brother Tim Drake

Word count: 2.999

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 6 - Part 7

The wind was harsh against the skin on the cold autumn night, the trees's leaves kept making the same noise. The dirty floor was cold against your knees as you haplessly stared at the man in front of you. Your head was still dizzy from the car coming to an abrupt halt a few minutes ago, making you hit your head hard. There was a few drops of blood coming out from the cut on your forehead.

Oliver was yelling something, staring down the man in front of you with pure hatred and disgust in his face. He too had his hands tied, trying to brake free from the ropes around his wrists. Your brother took a glance at you, his face only hardening even more as he saw the fear in your eyes.

You stared at your mom, also on her knees in front of you. 

What was going on?

Before you could even process it fully, a sword ripped trough her chest, making her completely fall on the floor. You think you screamed, you couldn't really remember it. Oliver yelled something as you watched the blood pull around your knees and your mom's lifeless eyes stare down at you.

You adverted your gaze, watching Slade Wilson give you a sly smirk before disappearing in the shadows. 

You sat up abruptly on the bed, sweat dripping off your forehead as your chest rises and falls quickly in heavy breaths. Your hands were shaking.

"Pretty bird, hey..." Tim grabbed your hands, making you look at him "It's ok, it's ok. I'm here."

You allowed him to embrace you in his arms, caressing your hair softly and whispering sweet words in your ear. You gripped his shirt into your fists, letting a sob rack your body. You hated, hated, when you had nightmares about the night your mom was murdered right in front of you. You still remembered if vividly, how you couldn't properly sleep for weeks and that Roy would sit wit you awake playing video game with you, just trying to cheer you up, how Oliver closed himself up until Dinah pointed out to him that drifting away from you was doing no good to the both of you. 

"I'm s-sorry." you hiccuped, breaking free from the hug "Did I wake you up?"

"You don't have to apologize." Tim smiled at you, his eyes showing concern, his hands wiped away your tears "Do you want to talk about it?"

You looked away. Tim already had so much to deal with, and here you were disturbing his sleep and making him worry about you. There are other things to be worried about right now, such as the massacre at the Casino two nights ago, and lots of other cases to deal with. 

"Hey, don't give me this look." He pulled you even closer, you rested your head on the crock of his neck "You can talk to me about anything you want. You are not bothering me."

You sighted "I just had a nightmare about the night my mom died. I know its been years, but I still remember watching Slade..." your breath got caught up in tour throat 

"It's ok, you don't have to say anything else." he kissed your forehead "Do you want anything? Some tea or watch tv? Anything and we'll do it together."

You smiled against his neck. He truly was an incredible person. You shook your head, slipping your arms around his torso and inhaling his perfume.

You and Tim had been at his room watching a movie when you started falling asleep. You decided it wouldn't be a bad thing to sleep next to him again, so you just lied in his bed and allowed sleep to hug you. What you didn't expect was to have a nightmare and wake up the boy who so desperately needed to sleep. 

"Let's go back to sleep." you suggested, pulling away from him and ready to leave his bed when he grabbed your arm pulling you back, your back hitting the mattress as he hovered above you

"Where do you think you're going?" he frowned, staring down at you

You felt your cheeks heat up with how close your faces were, if you moved your head just a bit, you could kiss his lips.

"To my bedroom. I already woke you up, I don't want to risk it having another nightmare and waking you again."

"No. You're not sleeping alone after having had a nightmare." he shook his head "I don't care if you wake me up again, I know how bad nightmares can be. I want to be here for you."

His hands cradled your face, gently running his thumb over your bottom lip. You stared at him, waiting for his next move. Your heart beating like crazy inside your ribcage.

He leaned down a bit, lips just about to brush. Tim hesitated, was it ok to kiss you right now? He didn't want you to think he was taking advantage of your fragile state, but then your lips met him halfway there.

He hummed in contentment when your hands found his hair, letting your fingers massage his scalp. He angled your head so he could slip his tongue inside your mouth, tasting your toothpaste. The kiss was sweet and nice, everything you needed right now, and everything you've been expecting since the almost kiss at the batcave a few weeks ago. 

When you two pulled apart, you both had matching grins on your faces. 

"I'll stay." you said "I want to be here for you, too."

Tim smiled, pecking your lips two more times, before lying down beside you. He tugged at your waist, pulling you closer to his body. You curled yourself around him, enjoining his warmth and the safe feeling you got with his arms around you. 

Dick was blabbing about something you couldn't quiet comprehend. After having woken up almost at the time you should be up for class, you are pretty tired after three two hour lectures. You were sitting at the counter on the Wayne Manor kitchen, drinking some coffee and trying to keep up with what he was saying.

Tim seemed to understand him pretty well, he stayed up the whole night even after you had fallen asleep, just making sure you were alright. That was very sweet of him, but did too little not to make your heart ache knowing today his lack of sleep was because of you. Your boyfriend (or so you hoped to be boyfriend) was way better at going trough his day without sleeping properly, or sleeping at all. You, on the other hand, were feeling a bit cranky and you doubted that had only to do with the fact that you didn't sleep very well. 

At one of your lectures, you met this really stupid boy that didn't seem to know when to shut up. Also, he thought it was ok to catcall you, even after you told him you had a boyfriend and asked him to back off. That only infuriated you further, and being a Queen meant you were a public figure, hanging out with the Waynes only made you be even more on the spotlight, so you couldn't punch him and break his nose unless you wanted end up on the headlines of every gossip blog out there. 

You looked up from your third cup of coffee in time to see a man walk into the kitchen right beside Bruce. You'd know that face anywhere, even if it was a bit bruised.

"Oliver!" you exclaimed, jumping out of your sit and into your brother's arms "You're back! I thought you said you wouldn't be back until next week."

He chuckled, hugging you back.

"Well, the mission was cut short." he patted your back, you let go of him, inspecting him real close "I missed you, kiddo."

"Are you hurt? What was the mission about? And, I missed you too."

Oliver smiled down at you, but you weren't going to let him out with just a smile. You wanted to know what the mission was and why he didn't take you with him. 

"We'll talk later, in private." 

You nodded, watching him move around you to say hello to Dick and Tim. 

You looked over at your boyfriend-not-boyfriend and saw his wide eyes stare back at you. You had to bit back a smile, he was nervous to see your brother, even if they had met before. 

"Ah, Tim. It's good to see you again." Oliver said, patting him a bit harshly on the shoulder "I heard you and my sister have been getting along just fine."

Oh boy. Who ratted you out? You bet it was Jason who gossiped about it with Roy who snitched you out to your brother before you even got the chance to tell him yourself. When you see that man, he won't even a chance to think about the arrow flying his way.

"Hi, Oliver. It's nice to see you too." Tim smiled thought his distress "Yeah, me and y/n have been getting a long just fine, she's amazing, impossible not to like."

Your brother seemed satisfied with the answer, for now. You know he will come back once he hears more details coming from you. For now, just letting Tim know he knows was enough to say I am her big brother and I've got my eyes on you. At least, he didn't pull up an interesting scary fact about his archery like he did when you met Bart Allen - all the poor boy did was compliment your outfit.

You smiled at Tim once he glanced back at you, his shoulders seemed to relax. You resumed to your place beside him, quietly slipping your hand into his under the table, squeezing it to let him know it was alright and he did a good job at shooing your brother away from making more awkward questions.

"I have some League business to discuss with Bruce, but once we're done, we can go out for dinner." Oliver said, smoothing your hair and smiling at you 

"Sure. I'll see you soon." you smiled back at him

The two older man left the room, leaving you alone with the Wayne boys one more time.

"That was so adorable, you told Oliver about you and Tim!" Dick exclaimed, he placed his elbow on the table, leaning his face over his hand "So tell me, what is exactly going on between you two?"

You frowned "I haven't told Oliver anything yet, someone blabbed it out to him before I could."

Dick frowned back. 

"Ok. So you can practice by telling me." He smiled again

Tim shook his head, pulling you off your sit and dragging you out of the kitchen. 

"What is going on between us is none of your business, Dick." He called over his shoulder, dragging you up the stairs and into your room

He closed the door behind you, sitting on your bed and staring at you. You frowned, sitting beside him.

"What's going on?" you questioned him

Tim sighted, shifting in bed so he could look better at you. You eyed him apprehensive, not knowing what to expect from his sudden atitude. 

"I, uh." He stuttered a bit before taking a deep breath "I think I am falling in love with you. I really want to do this with you, us, I want us to be in a relationship."

You smiled at his words, leaning in until your lips touched in a sweet kiss. That was all you wanted to hear from him for a while now. You were glad his feelings were going in the same direction as yours. When you pulled apart, you were still smiling while he had his eyes closed, still amazed by the kiss.

"Yes, I want this too."

The Big Belly Burger smelled like fries and ice cream. You were sitting in a booth at the far end of the fast food restaurant with your brother right in front of you, and big burger, fries and milkshakes. You two were finally having some sibling quality time after he'd been away for two months straight. 

"So... Are you going to tell me everything now?"

"You sure are curious." he laughed, shaking his head "I know this doesn't look like the place to have such a serious conversation, but I thought a scenario like this could be good for what I have to tell you."

You became wary of what he was going to tell you. What could've happened that was so bad? You sure had been trough a lot of bad situations since he became the Green Arrow, you were traumatized for most part because you were very young in some of the things that happened, but you did learn how to deal with it. This is just Oliver being a big brother.

"I am guessing you remember the whole Ninth Circle thing with Emiko and all." he started

You nodded your head, of course you remembered everything. That little shit you call sister tried to kill you all.

When Emiko first showed up you were delighted you had a sister, then you were a bit weirded out you had a sister, then you were sad your father had had an affair with this woman called Shado and proceeded to hid the fact that he had another kid. Emiko had to live trough a lot of shit just because your dad didn't have the guts to tell your mom and everyone else that he had another daughter. 

Shado hated your father for it, for turning his back you her and their daughter. She was part of this secret organization called the Ninth Circle and formed the perfect plan to kill you and your brother. She sent Emiko to infiltrated your lives and then kill you both, but fortunately, your sister was against her mother's ideas and forged Oliver's death for a while just to lure her out so you all could fight her. 

That all happened nearly a year and a half ago, ever since the Ninth Circle has been silent as hell. Of course, you were a bit suspicious as to why they haven't tried to retaliate yet, but you sure weren't going to complain having a bit of peace in your life, that's until the massacre at the Casino three nights ago.

"You were on a mission investigation them? Is that why you took Emiko and not me?" you questioned, assuming this is were the conversation was leading to

"Yes." Oliver nodded his head "Ever since finding out Malcom was involved with them as well, I assumed it wouldn't be a bad idea to keep a close eye on him, that led us to finding out some of the locations they have meetings. We've been following this lead for the past two months."”

You frowned "And you think they didn't realize it?"

"Well, yeah, that's were I got this black eye from. But we did manage to get some useful informations on them."

"Such as...?"

That's when his posture changed. Oliver suddenly wasn't telling you just a normal mission like he always does. It was something bigger, something more that you didn't know what to expect. 

"We got into their data base and found out the list of the members and former members of the organization."

You smiled "Oliver, that's great. Why are you sounding like it is so bad?"

He sighted "Because this is one of the names we found on the list."

He slid a paper towards you trough the table. It had a very long list of names, some of them were highlighted in pink, which made you realize it was people you knew. But then it struck to you, right by the end of the paper was a name you didn't think you'd ever read in a list like this.

Moira Queen.

Your throat was dry and it felt like the whole world stopped spinning for a few seconds before it all came crashing down into you.

Ok, maybe she was part of it before everything else. Maybe it was all Malcom's fault, they were friends before she died, maybe he persuaded her into associating herself with them. There was no way your mom would do that. 

You blabbed your thoughts out loud to your brother, hoping he would nod and you two could laugh awkwardly about it and then move on with the investigating as if that information meant nothing. 

"She's alive, Y/n."

Oh well, that was so much worse than reading her name on the list and your previous thoughts. 

"That's not possible! That's... That's impossible, Oliver!" you said in disbelief "I saw her die, I watched Slade rip her chest with his sword. There is no way that mom is alive."

"I know, I know this sounds absurd, but it is true." he kept his calm while you were freaking out "I saw her, Y/nn, I talked to her."

You shook your head, chocking on your breath as you swallowed your tears. 

"No, mom is not part of this. She had nothing to do with the Casino slaughter."

He didn't question you what you were talking about, he probably talked to Bruce about this earlier while they were discussing the League business.

"She is, unfortunately she is." he said in a soft tone "The whole League of Assassins stuff was her idea, she suggested to Malcom for you to be held as the prize and be taken to the League with him for training. She wants us by her side, even if Shado says no, we are her children. Mom wants us to be part of it."

You shook your head.

"You're not going to treat mom like a criminal."

"She is acting like one, Y/n."

You abruptly left the table. This was too much to take all at once.

"Don't you dare follow me." you hissed as you left the establishment 

You wanted to scream so badly. 

[smallestclowninthecircus]

Season 3 notes popping off

due to my desire to not completely fail all my classes this year i made myself slow down significantly while listening to this season, and the fact that the other person i'm listening along with had to catch up. We've managed to convert several other people to start listening and its pretty great.

ep 81: what does it even mean to be chosen by one of them? And if he was chosen by the eye. we know Gertrude wasnt? Because she cut the eyes out of the magazines?

ep 82: elias lmao. I understand why people like him so much bahshdhdk i thought he was gonna snitch on Jon but he didnt so he's fine. Ok but how do we think he knew all that stuff. Idk probably just institute connections. I love the fact that the recorder just wants to record stuff randomly bjahsjdhd. Elias feels a lot like Michael in the sense that he knows more than he should and talks in a way that implies he just wants to wait and see how things play out for his own benefit. I understand him knowing the things that happened but his description of her emotions implies something paranormal. Maybe he's connected to one of the entities. Which one I cannot guess.

ep 83: did a file get delivered randomly to the place he's staying at? Probably elias lmao. He thinks the mannequin is related to the stranger. Idk I would believe it.

ep 84: worms? I know he says earth worms but idk. Again? Is she making gordon golems out of trash? Martin popping off. You can tell the statements get to him more that they get to Jon. How come martin is so mad about it? I want to assume he just doesnt want her to get stuck there but idk. Jude Perry. The calliope organ. Jon heard a circus in one of the last episodes

ep 89: he's talking to perry? Like jude Perry? He says ... God? Is that what it is? Lmao. The Desolation. Jon is tired of ppl being vague and not telling him stuff lmao. Oh God Jon is so confused. Compel her? Is she assuming he has some kind of power? Does he have powers? Hmm. im agreeing with jon here please jesus christ why does everyone have to be so cryptic. Just say what you mean. "maybe you get an itchy eye" bahasjkdfklsjdf girl what. Agnes saved her? Oh this is the girl from the cafe story? So theres the Cult of the Lightless Flame? They worship whatever entity this is? The Desolation? Why do they all seem like they sorta worship her then? Is Gretchen gonna die oh god. fuckin michael. a different michael aaah. i see. dont do it shes gonna burn you. sir. please. sir dont you dare do- WHAT DID I SAY what did you think was gonna happen hhh.

ep 90: try to make it less obvious you're trying to get fired big T. Elias that doesnt sound like the most healthy thing to do. oh dear is this gonna be triggering for me. uuuuuh. uuuuuuuuuh. doesnt seem like it ok gonna keep listening. Jared. hmmmmm. Ok we've seen Keay and hotner or whatever his name was.

ep 91: Michael Crew. Oh is this the lightning scar guy. Mister jon sir did you just die. No? God everyone is so fuckin cryptic. Say normal things please. They all just like to go on about pain and agony and j e s u s c h r i s t we get it you got hurted by whatever thing. So theyre avatars? question mark? Jude Perry is an avatar of The Desolation? hhhh fractals. thats a spiral thing innit. Yup. messing with your perceptions. God they all talk about feeding their god and feeding that which feeds them and. hh what does that meann. Leave big J. please. uh oh. is it daisy? how come he has the web lighter still? the tape recorder just turns on sometimes you know how it is. So he can compel people? not that he knows it obviously but. a bit wack. powers go brr i guess? If the eye just wants knowledge i guess he feeds it by getting the statements? b/c i doubt it wants him to murder ppl or whatever.

ep 92: elias you all knowing fuck what do you know. (i guess all given what i just said) Lukas. Heard of them before. Mordecai Lukas. Loneliness. The lonely even. Jonah Magnus. Elias ur sounding like a bit of a dickhead rn. lmao jon's just like "i dont care" elias what is ur deal. Why does he want to tie her in. ohh i see. lmao theyre all just like "elias why" The Unknowing lol seems very much like something the eye wouldnt like. lol elias is gettin all philosophical. what does it really mean to be human. this still doesnt answer why gertrude wanted to destroy the archives tho.

ep 93: bahsjdfh he seems so dead inside rip. awww admiral. i love him already. ghh breacon and hope. purple mold. doesnt sound like anything we've seen so far. I think the funniest explanation for breacon and hope is that they dont actually serve the stranger they just kinda happen to be a random neutral party that cart around random spooky entity related stuff. ooooh. when we hear the slight static of the tape recorder it's cuz he's compelling ppl.

ep 94: the end! listen man they were all just grayed up for 4/13.

ep 95: the end also? death but also savagery/ animalistic shit. aww martin. lmao becerra. she's just been chillin in the corner.

ep 96: return to sender. haha minecraft go brr. prediction: breacon and hope? yup there we go. jon why is there an echo. are you in a stairwell? is he gonna eat it- yup. how did i call it. unsure abt what theyre talking about but ok. they kidnapped someone? Sarah Baldwin. ooooh that guy.

ok im just putting this here so i have notes for when nicholas gets to this part. It seems like (from jon's conversation with jude perry) that the desolation and the eye are kinda at odds with eachother? like i guess not directly but it seems like they dont really vibe? so how could be with both. Cuz if he has the heat powers and shit then we know he's an avatar of the desolation. but then why does he have so much eye imagery. also he got burned intentionally? like jude did when she went on her monologue about the feeling of burning? but then why did he wear the eye pendant. it stops him from being burned all the way which seems like he's not fully accepting the fire or whatever.

Nooooo I lost like a bunch of my notes rip. I keep forgetting to save.

Ep 104: tim gives a coherent statement without jon even being there. Ugh. Fucking robert smirk. Dont like him. Joey. Dont recognize the name. The show must go on. Clown. The spooky circus?

ep 105: total war... shogun 2? jon is just understanding languages again. "if i understood mandarin or cantonese" are you sure you dont big man?

ep 106: havent we heard this one already? mans in space? oh no this is just another episode in space. fairchild... uuuh. cant remember. oh! this is related to that! this is one of the ppl from the other side. sounds like a Vast thing. oh he's the one that the dude saw? but that guy didnt have a face... she's sorta like jon. wanting to dismiss the statements. lmao i love the workplace gossip. ace jon for the win! oh cmon elias dont be a dick. sunny meadows or whatever. thats the place we heard about.

ep 107: oh great is it jude perry again. Third Degree. bahahsdkfj she was arrested. sorry but imagining this old british lady getting arrested is funny. she was trying to resurrect him. using the skin book. he's not feeling well. jon take a nap. i wonder if this is what happens when he uses his powers too much. He gets into The Zone when he reads statements lol. didn't we have a burning train car in anothre statement? is it julia fairchild? bahahahs "kidnapped. Again." poor jon honestly. julia... about her dad. daughter of the murder shed guy? hunting like your dad liked to hunt or normal people hunting. oh hunting vampires!

ep 108: melanie has been suffering. poor martin peter lukas why do you have to be like this. can he not just use the front door? does he have to bother the ppl doing statements?

ep 109: how come he cut her off? kinda rude tbh. its either jon's influence or there was smth he didnt want her saying. is it gerard on the table? this sounds kinda like smth from one of the university episodes. is it the closed eye on the hand? yup. he's like one of the students! if the thing listening in is elias then... he can do that without the tape recorder yknow. plus who's to say it wont just turn itself on again

110: who wants to bet its a leitner?

111: Lukas related to The Lonely. I used to not like Gerard that much but i like him more now. but i thought there were 15? ohhh thats right isnt flesh newer? gerry for the win honestly. finally telling jon things.

112: lol "again" no one ever tells any of these ppl anything. tim and basira are just out of the loop constantly. music, like the war episodes. The hunt or the slaughter? probably the hunt. so Daisy is related to the hunt right? basira likes the reading, she's doing fine at the institute. daisy's getting worried...

113: it just turned on randomly. what is it lol. explossives! oh boy. why do they always assume he turned it on intentionally. melanie youre not making me like you that much. which entity is this about i cant tell. lol he was disappointed it was just the end. The title Breathing Room made me think it was gonna be about the buried but i guess not. So many of these entities deal with death but the end is one that deals in just death. it has no need for fancy deaths, just death is enough

114: more hilltop road statements? the tree. oh boy. ok the tree has 8 arms obviously theres the spider parallels. was she taken into an alternate universe? oh no. jon tries to phrase things so he's not asking questions. thats honestly good. "sometimes i was kidnapped" oh dear. they got gertrude. daisy ur so odd lmao. who wants to bet they dont know the tape recorder's running?

115: silaca? or whatever? antique man? meat grinder... related to the meat is meat episode? oh wow. they buy antiques from him. maybe dont antagonize this creature which can kill you?

116: lol theyre all just so done with elias. music? is it like the one band that if you hear them you die or wtvr. oh its chess? i am very much confused. mmm stranger go brr. gorilla skin? oh shit the dance. woah. this is so good. this is so gender. the words are wonderful. "you can just say tim" lmao trying to fool elias never feels like a good idea.

117: except elias lmaoo. oh shit. leitner getting some use for once idk. bruuh poor melanie she has been thru so much shit. martin you can just say youre worried about jon. lol he's so accurate in his jon impression. lol who was that. was that daisy? lmaoo. oop hi tim. oh god i hope tim doesnt die. i feel like i wouldve heard about that? but im not sure. destroying the source of knowledge is gonna be hard for jon. yay jon! you did a good thing. let him rest.

118: go off martin lmao. awww poor martin. oh god the tape gets that squealy quality and its awful.

119: woah. lots of things happening. uhh. POP OFF TIM!!

120: lmao elias giving a statement about jon's dreams lol. damn jon doesnt even get his own dreams? has to stay Watching even when he's asleep? f in the chat this man goes thru so much shit. oh boy its peter. lol martin my beloved. idk i dont trust peter.

[navalcriminalimagines]

Omg imagine being Gibbs’s wife and maybe Tony’s/McGee’s/someone on the team’s best friend/sister and asking gibbs to help put nail polish on in exchange of gossip and he does

Okay, anon, your request took another - unexpected - direction as I wrote it but I really hope you’re gonna like it anyway!☺️❤️

Exhausted from his day at work and the case they’ve been working on for three days now, Jethro came home and threw himself on the couch, where you were sitting. All he wanted to do was to cuddle you - or actually, you cuddling him - so he crawled to put his head on your lap.

“Someone had a bad day,” you stated, “But ruining my pedicure? I killed for much less, hubby,” you joked just to hear your husband chuckling a little.

“Who cares? It’s just toes,” he snapped back, looking at you with his head on your lap. You still had your polish brush in your hand and you pointed at Jethro.

“It’s getting hotter, which means I’m gonna put open shoes again. My feet has to look good,”

He stayed silent for a moment, “It’s toes!” He exclaimed, “and feet. Feet are ugly,”

“Leroy Jethro Gibbs—are you saying my feet are ugly?” You asked, pretending to be offended.

“Not yours! Yours are pretty, I love your feet,” he offered with a soft smile. “Although, that sounds a bit fetish,”

The two of you laughed at how ridiculous this conversation was. That is something Jethro loves about you; you always manage to be him feel better. No matter if he was mad, angry, sad or anxious, you always find a way to make him smile and sometimes laugh. “Where’s my kiss?” You asked and within a second, Jethro put his hand on the back of your neck to bring your lips to his and kissed you passionately.

“Much better,” you sighed happily, “Wanna talk about your day?”

“Only if you want to hear me railing about your best friend,” he sighed.

“Trash talking about Timothy? That’s my favorite thing to do!” You laughed, “but I’m listening only if you clean your mess,” you said before looking at your toes. Jethro took a look too. Indeed, you had a big trace of polish on your feet. He put nail polish only once on someone. Kelly’s hands. And it was a disaster. She never asked again. He could make your pedicure a disaster too.

Your husband sat back on your couch and brought your feet to his lap. You held the polish for him while he started.

“If it can help you to trash talk, Tim and the team has a presentation of your love life. They just need to press one button. They showed it to me when they found about us,” you confessed, “I guess I’m in it now,”

“We may need to run away after tomorrow. I can’t risk to go to prison for three murders,” he said, trying to put polish on your pinky toe.

“I’ll follow you anywhere,” you smiled, “Now, let it all out,”

“I have something better. Are you sure you know everything about McGee?”

You and McGee have been best friends since primary school, of course you know everything about him. You nodded to Jethro, confident about your friendship with Tim.

“He dated Abby,” Jethro simply said, focusing on your right foot.

“Son of a bitch!” You exclaimed, “He swore that nothing ever happened! He is so dead,” Jethro laughed at your reaction.

“And FYI, Abby sleeps in a coffin,”

You stayed silent for a moment, processing this sentence, “Can’t say I’m surprised she does that. But you saying “FYI”, something’s really wrong,”

“I married you, it’s been wrong for a long time,”

“You know what, tomorrow I’ll come to trash talk about you to your team. And kids really don’t like to hear about their parents’ sexual life.” You teased.

In response, Jethro used to polish brush to trace a purple line on your foot. Then he looked up at you and grinned.

“You were doing a terrible job anyway,” you shrugged before grabbing your glass of water and throwing it to your husband face, he didn’t move at first. A part of him was used to your childish behavior but you still managed to get him by surprise, “Make it to four murders,” he said.

You tried to run away in the house, laughing hard, but Jethro caught you pretty quickly.

TAGS : @kittenlittle24 @diaryofafan17 @littlemiss3ma

[beholdme]

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 11

Chapters: 11/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

Jon has a terrible, sinking feeling about what he considers their new Mary Keay problem.

He knows Gerry feels more confident that he can deal with her now, as an adult with his own resources and a solid foundation, but Jon doesn't want her ever walking into their lives again.

He feels the threat of her existence hanging over their hard-won peace like an anvil on a lace string.

"I think we should try to find her," Jon tells Martin one evening when they’re alone in bed. Gerry is downstairs painting, and even though he almost certainly can't hear them, Jon whispers it like a dirty secret.

"You think-" Martin looks up from his book with an almost comically incredulous look on his face. "You think we should look for a murder who threatened your life?"

Utterly uninterested in secrets between the three of them, Martin does not attempt to speak quietly.

"Well, when you put it like that," Jon grumbles, returning his attention to his book and pretending to drop it.

The next day at work, he puts his researching skills to the test. It doesn't even take very long, and in less than an hour, he has an address in Morden, where she apparently owns a bookstore of all things.

The information available is fairly spartan, updated more than a year ago, but Jon can see enough. He can see that she lives less than an hour from Gerry, and it itches at him.

He knows he shouldn't go. Knows that Martin and Gerry will be furious if they ever find out that he snooped, nevermind if he goes there and unsettles old ghosts..

But still, he takes a half-day off from work and gets on a bus to Morden.

*

When Jon arrives and finds the storefront boarded up, he is half reassured, half perturbed. He had felt almost relieved when he had a concrete lead to follow, but now all he has is more questions.

"She's dead."

Jon startles at being unexpectedly spoken to and turns towards a teen girl sitting in the storefront doorway next door.

"She died, like a while ago? Apparently she lost her shit and cut herself up with a piece of glass. Bleed to death on the floor." She inclines her head towards the dilapidated bookstore. She seems quite taken with the gossip, as if it's the most interesting thing to ever intercept with her boring life. It probably is, Jon thinks, uncharitably.

"When did it happen?" He prods, hoping for as many details as possible.

"Oh, like two years ago?" She nods at herself in confirmation. "You can go in if you want. It's haunted. People are always going in to see if they can find Mary's ghost."

Jon shudders, feeling that Mary's ghost is already plenty present enough in his life. He asks how to get in anyway.

Jon doesn't find any obvious ghosts inside, only a lot of dust, a few vandalised books, and a trashed building.

There's a staircase leading upwards and he stares up at the upper landing for a moment, weighing his options. Might as well , he thinks, and proceeds up it carefully.

There's literally nothing but more dust, and Jon descends into a sneezing fit just as he is deciding to cut his losses, feeling slightly dizzy.

The sneezing turns into coughing, and Jon takes a step back to lean against a wall.

But the wall isn't there, and he falls.

And falls.

And falls.

*

Jon calls Martin from the hospital. He’s down in Brighton, meeting with a business supplier, and Jon assumes this makes it a safe bet he'll arrive without Gerry. He assumes wrong.

Gerry arrives, alone, in half the time it would take Martin to make the trip, looking flustered and scared.

"How did you get here so fast?" Jon demands incredulously, made short by his shame and physical discomfort.

"How did I-" Gerry pauses and takes a deep breath, but his next words are still slightly shrill. "I took a fucking Uber, Jonathan. How did you get here?"

Jon opens his mouth, but Gerry cuts him off as he goes on.

"You went looking for Mary, didn't you?" Jon's guilty face must tip him off, because he simply goes on, pacing angrily. "Christ, Jon! What the hell were you expecting to find? And you know what, Martin didn't even sound surprised when he called me to tell me you were here. You know, I can understand this uncommunicative bullshit from you, but not Martin."

"That's not very nice," Jon grouses.

"And do you think it was nice for me to hear from Martin that you were hurt? I'm glad to know he was your one and only phone call from an ambulance."

"Gerry-"

"Don't fucking Gerry me."

"I'm sorry," Jon says, looking down at his hands.

"Are you, Jon? Because you don't even know the worst part yet. If you had asked me, I could have told you Mary was dead, and then we wouldn't be in this mess at all."

"You knew?"

"Of course I knew! I was her next of kin!"

Gerry stops, pressing his fingers into his eyes and blowing a hard breath out. He takes several more breaths, heart-pounding, anxiety through the roof.

"Jon, how hurt are you?" Gerry asks quietly, coming closer to gently take a hand.

"Just a few bruises." Gerry raises an eyebrow in disbelief. "A mild concussion." And the other. "Maybe a few broken ribs."

"Oh, my sweet, sweet idiot. How loving you makes me want to climb the walls sometimes."

"Only sometimes?" Jon fills his voice with false levity, although it comes out rather shaky.

Gerry grunts, but leans down to kiss his forehead very gently. It's a minuscule point of contact, but Jon knows Gerry and can feel the tremble of fear (fear for him, who would have thought), and the tension of his frustration.

"I'm going to go talk to the doctor, okay? Just- just take it easy. Everything will be fine, love."

Jon doesn't believe him, not really, but he lets Gerry go. There's a lot of noise and movement after that, and Jon's head spins through most of it. Gerry is there, talking to doctors, querying the tests they want to run, and just generally making his opinion in regards to his partner's care very clear.

*

Martin knows it's bad when he arrives at the hospital and finds Gerry chain-smoking in the parking lot. His expression mostly just looks exhausted, but in his favorite black trench coat, and most intimidating combat boots, he looks ready to burn something down.

"That bad, huh?" Martin tries, but Gerry simply waves him towards the entrance, not making eye contact.

Martin almost cuts his losses, wanting to deal with one idiot at a time, but doesn't want to leave Gerry to sulk.

"How is he?" Martin asks.

"He's in one piece. They asked me to leave so they could do the x-rays. Apparently, he fell over a banister."

"A banister? How?"

"Your guess is as good as mine until we can interrogate him." Gerry takes a long, contemplative drag of his cigarette. "But apparently it's not all that bad and as long as the x-rays look clear, we can take him home in a couple of hours."

"He couldn't have chosen a worse time."

Gerry grunts in agreement. "He's going to tell us he wants to go back to his own flat, but that's only because he thinks I'm angry at him."

"And why would he think that?" Martin questions.

Gerry takes another long drag of his cigarette as if testing Martin's attention span, or patience, or both. Martin just waits, still and easy.

Gerry explains what he knows, his earlier outburst, Jon's guilty, stupid face.

When the cigarette is smoked and put out, Martin finally approaches Gerry all the way, and Gerry sinks into his arms gratefully.

"Everything will be fine."

"Hardly. This is my fault to begin with, and I yelled at him. In a hospital bed!"

"It's as good a place as any other, love. Come on, let's go get him so we can take him home."

Martin kisses him gently, before taking his hand and dragging him off to find Jon.

*

"Your partner is very loud." The blonde nurse with the buzzcut tells Jon as she wheels him to imaging.

"In his defense, I'm an idiot." He sighs, causing his battered ribs to ache.

She laughs heartily, wheeling him into an elevator. "Almost everyone I meet as an A&E nurse is. At least you seem like an interesting idiot."

Jon actually smiles, somehow pleased with the observation. "I'm Jon."

"Daisy Tonner." She offers a hand, which Jon shakes as firmly as he can manage. "You seem a bit old for trespassing in haunted houses, Jon."

The elevator dings and she wheels him out into the imaging wing. "I was looking for the woman who died there." Daisy gives him a skeptical look and he sighs dramatically. "I didn't know she was dead."

Daisy nods her understanding. "I remember when she died actually. They brought her here that night. Never seen someone with so much blood loss be so… Erratic. We had to strap her down." Daisy looks contemplative as she recalls the memory.

"She was a crazy bitch to the very end, then?" Jon asks, bitterness creeping through his tone at the woman who caused Gerry (still causes Gerry,) so much pain. Jon doesn't allow himself, yet, to dwell on the heartache of the years of Gerry she took from him.

"For sure," Daisy tells him. "What do you do for a living then?"

"I'm a librarian?" Jon tells her, but it goes up a bit at the end, like a question.

"Really?" Daisy asks wryly, "You don't sound very sure."

Jon considers laughing but remembers his ribs in time to settle on a tired smile. "I do work in a library but to be frank, most of the time I just feel like my boss's busy boy. Always running here and there and doing everything but what I thought I was supposed to be doing."

"Most professions aren't what we think they are when we sign up for them," Daisy observes. She parks his wheelchair outside a door and leans around to let them know a patient is waiting.

"Do you like being a nurse?" Jon asks her when she settles against the wall beside him, looking rather more intimidating than one would expect from the average health care worker.

"Most of the time. Sometimes it can be just exhausting and draining." She shrugs, contemplative. "Sometimes I get a patient that makes all the shit worthwhile. Mostly I just want to deck someone, though."

She cracks up at that and looks down at Jon to give him a feral grin. "Your boyfriend seems like a worthwhile candidate. Very punchable face."

"Careful, he might enjoy it," Jon warns her, deadpan.

They exchange a pointed look for a moment, before bursting into laughter. It pains Jon significantly, but he considers it worthwhile to enjoy the moment with a strange new friend.

*

By the time Daisy returns Jon to his room, both Martin and Gerry are there. Daisy looks pointedly between blue-haired, pierced, goth Gerry, and pink-haired, jumper clad, soft Martin and then eyes up 'born an 85-year old man' Jon for good measure.

Jon just shrugs at her and she nods in acknowledgment, before helping Jon into his hospital bed.

"As soon as the imaging comes through, it'll be checked by the surgeon on duty," Daisy informs them briskly, "then they'll come through and let you know what's happening. You'd best settle in for a bit of a wait. Buzz if you need me."

With a curt nod and a small smile for Jon, Daisy is off.

Martin comes over and pulls Jon into his comfortable arms, pressing his lips to Jon's forehead. He sighs out in relief to have solid reassurance that Jon is alright, alive, and relatively unscathed.

Gerry also moves over from his perch on the windowsill, and folds himself onto the bed, cross-legged in front of his errant partner.

They settle all together, Martin beside Jon, one unwavering arm around his shoulders, Gerry in front of Jon, both of his hands holding both of Jon's.

Jon opens his mouth to apologize.

"I'll go first," Gerry tells him, gently. "I am sorry that I was so upset earlier and that I raised my voice. I was fucking scared and I took it out on you when you needed me to be soft and steady. I'm also sorry that I didn't tell you Mary was dead before."

Jon tries to interrupt now, but Martin silences him with a squeeze.

"I meant to tell you, but it was all very messed up and over-wrought and I honestly forgot." Gerry looks chastised, a rare blush staining his cheeks. "I hope that we can get better at talking these things out so that this doesn't happen again."

He pauses, considering. "And I hope that if I have made you think that you can't talk to me by avoiding telling you things in the past, that you can forgive me and I will do what I need to be better."

Jon is truly floored, and utterly speechless. The words themselves had been a little bit halting and slightly awkward, as Gerry struggled to express himself, but the earnestness proves to Jon just how much Gerry loves him.

"I- I'm sorry too." Jon stutters out. "I'm an idiot but I love you. I hope we can get better at this together."

His words feel downright juvenile after Gerry's acknowledgement, but it's all he's got, pounding head and trapped emotions preventing similar declarations (oh and his total lack of social skills). Gerry beams at him regardless and he leans forwards to kiss Jon sweetly on the forehead.

Martin grabs Gerry's hand and places a kiss on his palm, sending him a significant look. It feels like approval to Jon, and he can't help but appreciate their bond just as much as his own with each of them.

They settle to wait, and they take turns reading from Martin's book to pass the time, each of their voices having a few moments to fill the air and weave around them.

Dr. Basira Hussain eventually comes in, assuring them that Jon's concussion is mild, his ribs are only bruised, and that he should make a full recovery (if he rests), in just a few weeks. They thank her profusely and she leaves them with Daisy to check out.

Gerry goes off to take care of the paperwork and in a few minutes, they're saying goodbye and walking out of the hospital together. Martin and Gerry flank Jon carefully, there to support him if he stumbles.

He also sits between them in the taxi, head on Martin's shoulder and one hand grasped between both of Gerry's. He feels exhausted and floaty from painkillers, and every jolt of the car makes it difficult to breathe.

He smiles, rather unexpectedly. Despite his current predicament, he's glad enough to know that Mary Keay is dead and that chapter of their lives is definitely closed. He does wish he had just asked Gerry, but he hopes that the strained feelings and injuries will blow over and she will finally be out of their lives for good, nothing but a sad, angry memory. A shade living only in the memories of those that didn't know her.

[flying-nightwing]

Dark Fox (5/7)

Yoooooo I love this chapter, I think it’s my favourite so far. 

Previous - Next 

Pairing: Jason Todd x League!Reader

Word Count: 5836

Warnings: same as previous

Your eyes were closed but you could feel Jason growing restless. 

It was already the middle of the day and you had not gone out once to train. He kept shifting his position, crossing and uncrossing his legs, and opening one eye to see if yours were still shut. He would also occasionally let long sighs of impatience, like a child stuck inside on a sunny summer afternoon. 

It wasn’t that far from the truth, actually.

“Alright” He spoke up, slapping something on his skin. probably a fly. “This is pointless”

You slowly opened your eyes and stared at him. He was sweaty and swatting away bugs around him, and an all too familiar frustration was growing in his eyes. Although you didn’t do this exercise to spite him off especially, you had to admit you did enjoy to rile him up that way. 

“I know that face” He grumbled, and you raised an eyebrow. “You’re enjoying this too much. Is there even a purpose to this?”

“Yes” 

“Then what is it?” He yelled, throwing his hands in the air. “We’ve been sitting here in silence for more than two hours!”

“Should I make it two hours more?” 

“You are evil”

“I’m making you do this because” You began after an over exaggerated eye roll. “This kind of meditation, when done well, allows you to take control of everything in you. When you feel conflicted, angry or need to find strength, you can tap into that power. But you need to find it first”

“Yawn” He pretended to sleep. “When I made the joke about making tea, I had no idea you’d take it literally”

“Don’t act so smug, you could use it” You replied. “And the tea technique as well”

He gasped.

“Now get back in position, palms up resting on your knees” You instructed, and he only crossed his arms against his chest in defiance. “Jason”

“I’m not doing it anymore” He shook his head like a toddler. “It’s as hot as the devil’s asshole and your little bowl of water is turning this hut in a sauna. And how the fuck are you not dying?”

He gestured wildly at your short sleeve base layer and tactical pants, which you thought was already a wild improvement from what you usually did. In fact, winter or summer, you had always worn your full League suit no matter how uncomfortable it could get. You had learned to ignore it a long time ago.

“Because I’ve been dead since 2004” You deadpanned.

It took him some time to react. “Sorry did you just make a joke?”

“No. I’m always serious” You didn’t concede, but you did suppress a smile. “Now focus”

“C’mon” He groaned. “For once let’s do something fun! I’ve earned it, don’t you think?”

You held his stare that had become wide and almost… Pleading? In a puppy-that-wants-treats kind of way. And thinking of it, he did work all for almost a year without really choosing what to do. You guessed you could make an exception for this once.

“What did you have in mind?” You asked tentatively.

“Let’s go swimming” He grinned, and it sparked an idea in your head. 

“Swimming you say?”

--------

“What do you think they’re doing?”

“I don’t know” Dick muttered, glancing at Tim with a bewildered expression. “But I’ve never seen Jay sitting so still for so long before”

“Do you think they can hear us?” Tim asked, eyes still on jason and you. “Pssst, Jason”

“Hey Jason!” Dick called, louder this time. Still no reaction.

“Jaybird!”

“Earth to Todd?”

“What are you idiots doing now?” 

Both men turned around at Damian calling them out.

“Jason and Foxy are sitting face to face on the floor like statues” Tim replied, crossing his arms against his chest. “It’s kind of freaking us out. There are herbs burning or whatever”

“If you call her that to her face she’ll kill you” Damian pointed out, pushing off the wall he was leaning on. 

“I know, she already pushed me out of a window” He sighed as Damian walked past him to look into the room. He noticed the positions, the shallow bowl of water and the sage burning next to it. It clicked in his head it was something his mother had taught him years ago, still the never ending sitting session in silence were hardly forgettable. You? He wasn’t surprised to see you do it from what he had gathered about you so far. Jason, however, he was surprised he would even considering let alone last so long. He was impressed.

“They’re meditating, you morons” He rolled his eyes. “League stuff. Lets you in into your own soul so deep you can tune out the exterior world”

“Sounds freaky” Dick hummed.

“I’m going to test that theory” Tim smirked, taking a few steps in the room.

“And if you do that it’s Jason that’s gonna kill you” Damian shouted as he walked away. 

“Can’t be worse that being thrown out of a window” 

“I swear one of them is actually going to kill you sooner than later” Dick sighed as he followed his brother nevertheless. He figured Tim would stand better chance at living with backup.

Tim tiptoed to Jason, taking good care to stay far away from you and your range. He had no idea if you had a blade hidden somewhere--you probably did--and exactly how fast you would hurl it at him. He needed to give himself a margin of manoeuver. He extended his finger and slowly, so slowly got closer to Jason.

“Don’t. You. Dare” 

He froze mid air, eyes widening. Jason’s eyes were still closed, but apparently he was aware enough to know he was close. He shared a glance with Dick, not willing to run away just yet even though Jason had quite literally blindly deducted his intention. He moved a bit closer again, and just before his finger came in contact with Jason’s ear, he snapped his eyes open and glared so hard at Tim it made him and Dick scatter out of the room. He help his glare a little longer on the room’s threshold before sighing. 

“I kinda miss the quiet of the hut”

You slowly opened your eyes to meet his stare. You would have given him a smile if your mind wasn’t so far away of your head. 

“Found anything?” 

You shook your head at his question, looking away from the concern that was growing on his face. You had tuned into your mind to find how in the hell and back you didn’t just let the arrow fly and ended it for Luthor. You had hesitated, something you didn’t even know was possible for you. Moreover, you had deviated from the only personal goal you ever had, for what? For the lives of people that didn’t matter to you. It was a good thing you didn’t work for the League on that one, because you wouldn’t have made it out alive. 

It was also a miracle Tim hadn’t ratted you going outside of the plan to go after Luthor. You had fully expected a fight when you met with the rest of the group, but he had kept his mouth shut after what went down. It worried you, because the only reason you could think for him doing that was for leverage, and well, you certainly didn’t like the idea of any of these people here having leverage on you. And with the warning Jason gave you about his detective skills, none of this settled right within you. 

“You’ll get another chance”

It was like he was reading your mind. It wasn’t like he didn’t know you better than anyone, and it was not like you were well guarded right now. You were too distracted to hold up your defenses. Still, you were angry at yourself.

“I let him go” You mumbled through gritted teeth. “I’ve never…”

“I know” He breathed out. “Are you okay?”

“Yes” You snapped. You didn’t need his pity. “I just need to remind myself of who I am”

He held your stare for a second, betraying no emotion. “And who is that?”

You gulped, hesitating despite your better judgement. “I am Thaelib fi alzalam, child of the darkness and servant of the demon”

His jaw clenched ever so slightly, but he didn’t say anything more.

--------

“Am I the only one who noticed Jay’s been… Different ever since he brought back the ninja here?” 

Dick looked up from his paperwork and grinned at Tim. “Right? He’s around all the time now”

“Do you think they’re together?” He asked in between two glances at the files in front of him. They were still on the Luthor case, and he had his own side quest to figure out. “She would seem like his type. Cold, snarky, slightly to very murderous, you know”

Dick laughed. “I mean something definitely happened between them, especially since they allegedly spent all this time together. But actually together? Meh”

“Don’t you have anything better to do that gossip about me?”

Both men’s eyes snapped up at the voice that joined the conversation. Jason was standing in the doorframe of the cave, arms crossed against his chest and a scowl on his face. A steaming cup of coffee was rested on his bicep, but he didn’t seem bothered by the heat of the ceramic container.

“Absolutely not” Dick sniggered, making Jason scoff. “So, you two together?” 

Jason’s eyes went from his older brother to Tim, whose head was cocked on the side. He was watching intensely for a reaction, and it made Jason shift on his feet. He did not like when Tim went all detective on him, especially since he had no idea of the reason why he would do it. It was creepy and invasive, and even him wasn’t immune to Tim’s hyper perceptiveness. Jason cleared his throat.

“You think I’m going to answer this?” He challenged Dick, doing his best to ignore Tim’s weird as fuck behaviour.

“Oh come on Jaybird, do a girl a favor and spill the beans!” He pleaded. “We barely know anything of what went down with you two”

“And I intend it to stay that way” He replied, walking to Dick’s rolling chair. “Now move. Alfred sent me to replace you. You’ve been here for hours and he wants you to take a break”

“Aw, okay” He complied as he stood up. “Can’t say no to Alfred”

“What about me?” Tim finally spoke with a small pout. Jason rolled his eyes and walked to his desk, putting down the steaming mug of coffee in front of him. Everybody knew it was pointless to try and pry Tim away from his work, so Alfred had instead sent him down with about seven shots of espresso in a mug. That was enough to change his expression from betrayed to content. 

Jason waited for Dick to leave and propped down in the seat, keeping watch on Tim from the corner of his eye. His fingers skimmed over the paperwork left behind, but he wasn't very interested in it. He only agreed to replace Dick because like his older brother, saying no to Pennyworth was not an option, not a moral one anyway. 

“So” Tim began nonchalantly, pretending to be interested in whatever was in his face at the moment. Jason braced himself for more invasive questions he would not answer. “How did you not kill each other in the first week of training?”

Jason blinked in surprise at the question. He did not expect something so… Impersonal? He seemingly referred to his and your character, which he must have witnessed while being paired with you the previous night. However, he still remained on his guard, because Tim was being weird. Well, weirder than usual that is.

“I guess… We tried?” He said carefully, frowning. “Didn’t work”

“Interesting” He nodded, taking a sip from his coffee. “I’ve noticed her fondness for violence, which makes sense why you would get along”

“Okay just say what you want to say” He sighed, making a vague hand gesture. 

“No it’s just--” He paused and took a breath. “Something weird happened the other day, after she pushed me out of the window”

Jason raised an eyebrow.

“She landed after me and then she just took off” He said with a shrug. “Naturally I went after her because nobody walks out on me. And imagine my surprise when I saw her facing off with none other than Lex Luthor”

Jason’s muscles tensed, but he gave no other reaction. Fuck. 

“I mean she could have killed him, she seemed pretty obsessed with going there or whatever” He kept talking, obviously noticing his brother’s subtle change of attitude. “But then they just held the stare off until the explosion went off and she instead saved a bunch of people that would have otherwise been crushed to death by concrete. Anyway. Now tell me if I got it wrong, but she doesn’t seem like the type to just hesitate, or care about the others, right? I tried to piece it together, the obsession, the hesitation, her weird knowledge of Luthor’s modus operandi, her whole involvement in this for that matters, but I still come short of the little missing piece to the puzzle. It bothers me”

He watched Tim with his mouth slightly agape. He knew it had been a bad idea for you to go after Luthor with Tim nearby, but he didn’t think he’d put the pieces together that quickly, or rather, that you’d let such a slip go noticed. Nonetheless, he wiped away his astonishment away and replaced it with yet another scowl.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t know, I’d believe you know more than anyone about her”

“I think you’re looking way too much into this, Drake” He dismissed, going back to his papers. “She was raised by the League. Going after a target is her basic instinct, and are you really going to judge her for doing the right thing and saving people?”

“Mhhh” Tim simply hummed, also going back to his own work. Jason gave him one last glance, knowing his deflection wouldn’t hold him back for long. The truth was about to come out, and he feared it wouldn’t be pretty when it did.

--------

“Go on”

Jason narrowed his eyes, his glance slowly going from you to the plank you had lowered above the water and to the post farther into the middle of the river. It rose about seven feet above the surface, and Jason didn’t trust it or your intentions for that matter.

He adjusted the quiver strap and the bow on his shoulder and began carefully reaching the post. Nope, he definitely didn’t trust that setting at all. However, as much as he was mad you had twisted his swimming idea, he was also curious as to what hellish stunt you would make him do this time. He knew you by now, so whatever it was, it would be both dangerous and entertaining. 

He grabbed the post and hoisted himself up by the only step that was carved in the middle of it. He stood up on the small surface, barely large enough to stand comfortably on both feet. He looked at you, and you had already pulled back the plank.

“Hey!” 

You smirked and brought the plank to the other post about twenty feet further down the river. You climbed on it and faced Jason.

“So what now?” He called from his position. “We shoot each other?”

You grabbed an arrow and nocked, but left your bow aimed down at the water. Even from the distance you could see his face drop.

“You’re fucking crazy!” He shouted. “How is this not ending in one of us being dead?”

“You found static meditation too boring” You shouted back. “This should do it to find your balance and inner strength”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” 

“Dodge the arrow” You said, lifting your bow and shooting straight at him.

The arrow flew at him, and in his attempt to dodge it, lost balance and landed in the water. He came up with a gasp, and swam back to the wooden post before the strong current could drag him away. He climbed again, all drenched and glaring at you.

“Or fall and get wet”

“Oh, because you’re so good at dodging arrows from a upright tree trunk without falling” He snarked back as he took off his tank top and threw it on the shore.. “I’d love to see you on the other end of these”

For emphasis he raised his own bow. You shrugged and slipped your bow through your arm and head to rest it on your back, and waited for him to shoot. In a blink he nocked his first arrow, aiming from your left shoulder. You leaned out of the way, stable on your post, then slowly returned to your position. You raised your eyebrow in challenge, and oh did he not like that. The next arrow went to your feet, and you simply jumped, landing back solidly on your feet. He shot at the same place again, you jumped, then aimed for your mid section rapidly after. You landed on your left foot and crouched so your right slipped along the post, resting on the step in the middle. Jason paused a moment, eyes wide, before shooting straight at you. You propelled yourself up, then saw a second and third arrow coming your way before you had the time to stabilize yourself. You saved your eminent fall with a side vault and landed gracefully.

“Oh you must be kidding me!”

“Don’t act so surprised” You teased. “You can do that too, Jason. Close your eyes and take a deep breath, don’t think about it too much. Empty your mind and trust your instinct”

You waited as his shoulders went up and down, and his eyes slowly opened. Without waiting you shot an arrow, an easy one to dodge and he did, seemingly on instinct. You shot another, he jumped over it. His landing was wobbly, but he didn’t fall. His eyes lit up like when he found out a game he liked, and he began shooting back at you. You exchanged hits, not once falling, well, until one of you did. 

Two quick arrow of yours managed to make Jason land a bit too far to the right, and he fell in the water. However, he didn’t resurface immediately, which made you lower your bow and search the water for him. You frowned, and only noticed too late the wave of water coming on your side. Jason then climbed on your post and tackled your waist, throwing you straight into the water with him. You hit the water on the side, and swam back to the surface with a gasp.

Jason stared at you with a devious grin, daring you to do something about it. You hooked your bow on your shoulder and lunged. 

You had to admit, sparing in water wasn’t something you had ever done, and the resistance was getting to you. Jason was already better at hand to hand, but now he had the absolute advantage. His longer limbs allowed him to move better and to pull himself up on the river ground if you were to push him down, and the fact that he was only in shorts didn’t impede his movements as much as your heavier clothing. The current was rolling you down the river, and when you hit a shallower part, you couldn’t see the posts anymore. 

You now had water to your midsection, and Jason took the opportunity from your stumbling on the higher river floor. He caught you in his classic headlock, pressing your back against his chest. You stopped struggling then, knowing it was over for you. But he didn’t release you, and you didn’t move either when he slightly loosened his hold.

Both of you were panting from the effort, his chest was heaving quickly on your back. The water made your and Jason’s skin cold, but his breath was warm on the crook of your neck. Usually you would have tapped out, or flipped him over. But you were like in a trance, and you didn’t understand why you couldn’t move away.

Why you wouldn’t move away.

“Gotcha”

His voice sent shiver down your spine.

“Fuck, Jay”

It took you a moment to realize what you said. His breath stilled on your neck, and you gulped. You had never called him just “Jay” before, you didn’t do nicknames. And especially not with that voice, and in that kind of circumstance. You cleared your throat, and he dropped his arm and took a step away.

"I'll…" You trailed off. "I'll go change"

“Sure” His voice wavered in a weird way. “Uh, go on, I’ll catch up later”

You turned around, raising an eyebrow. “Is... Everything alright?”

“Yeah" He said. “I’m just, uh, going for a swim real quick. Another one”

Without another word, he submerged himself in the water.

---------

You had Damian in a headlock when the trail of bat family rushed down the batcave in a hurry, Jason trailing behind seeming way less bothered than the others. You looked up, and this moment of inattention gave Damian the opening to send you flying over him. Your back hit the ground flat, and your confused stare at your own distraction was met by a grimace of disbelief from Damian. Okay, you were truly out of it. 

“Luthor has devanced his plan, we got intel he would move tonight”

You pulled yourself to your feet, suddenly interested in the rush they seemed to be into. You followed Damian out of the cage and met the group halfway, glancing at Jason. He only briefly met your eyes, returning his attention on Bruce afterwards.

“He is going to move the weapon in an underground facility just outside the city, which means we will lose the signal from the tracker” He briefed. “The classic, three vans, only one carrying the package”

“Do we know what it’s even for?” Jason asked.

“I found something about yersinia pestis being injected in certain areas of Gotham” Damian stepped up. “So basically, a plague weapon”

“A plague weapon?” He frowned. “Why would Luthor would ever be interested in bringing back the plague?”

“Wait” Dick perked up, running to the working tables and looking around for something specific. He grabbed a stack of papers and came back. “Here, I saw he made the recent acquisition of a pharmaceutical company that produces, wait for it, gentamicin. It’s a plague treatment”

“So he’s gonna drop the virus on Gotham with that little device?” Jason raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know--”

“Last year Luthor made the acquisition of a low income housing company mostly operating in the Bowery, Crime Alley and Otisburg” You spoke up, a wary look on your face. “My bet would be that device is to slip the bacteria into the ventilation systems, or the pipes”

“... He did” Dick confirmed, looking through the papers. “That would make sense. He spread the plague at a little scale, he provides the medicine, he wins at every steps”

“He IS trying to slither in the city council” Bruce hummed. “Trying to steal Wayne Enterprises’ seat”

“We need to go now if we don’t wanna miss our shot, Bruce” Dick warned.

“Yes” He snapped out of it. “Three vans. Nightwing, Red Robin, you’ll be assigned to the car that will go down through City Hall District. Robin and I will follow the car going through Gotham proper” He paused, looking at you and Jason. “You two work better together. You’ll go North. I’ll send Dick and Jason the trajectories. Gear up”

Wordlessly, you all went to your own dressing area. Yours was simply a plastic box in a corner with your suit folded, and your weapons on a nearby table. You took a moment longer than usual at the black uniform, but nevertheless put it on piece by piece. The tactical pants, the gloves, the undercoat and the protective layer on it, the belt and the spiked arm bracers. Then the belt, your sword on your back and the arrow quiver crossing above it. You reloaded the shooter on your arm and strapped the sheath on your thigh with your blades, then put on the comm in your ear. 

You grabbed your bow and returned toward the others, who were finishing gearing up as well. Jason came and stood beside you, an unreadable expression on his face. Well, it could be, but you refused to look at him in the face. You instead put on your helmet, the black visor hiding your face. 

“There’s no time to waste, let’s go” Bruce called. “Whatever team finds the van, you stop it and bring back the weapon here”

And with that, you went out. Bruce took the batmobile, while the rest were all on bikes. You and Jason left the cave last, shooting out on the road like two blurs in the night. Your comm was on, tuned on the channel with him only. It took him about five minutes to start talking.

“Tim knows” He said. “Or at least he is close enough to know”

“Doesn’t matter” You clipped back, swerving easily around cars on your way. “This will end soon enough one way or another”

“And you’ll go back to the league?” His voice was bitter, and you could only imagine his expression.

“... Yes” 

“Whatever”

You rode in silence until you reached your hideout point. There was still five minute before the van was scheduled to turn the corner and engage on the one way avenue, and you would execute the plan from then. You both turned different directions to hide in alleys, turning off the lights of your motorcycle. You put one foot down, leaving one hand on the handle. The engine was purring softly under you, warm and ready to take off.

“We’ll attack from the sides” Jason spoke again through the comm. You could see his red helmet on the other side of the street. “We take off the doors quick and clean, if it’s not there we lose them. If it is, I take the van and you cover me”

“Copy that” 

“They should be there in one minute, get ready” 

You adjusted your helmet and readied your explosive arrows. You then crouched on the bike and waited for the van to pass in front of the hideout. You counted the seconds in your head, five, four, three, tw- 

“What the fuck?” You frowned when not one, but three vans heavily escorted with motorcycles sped past you. You and Jason engaged on the road nevertheless, coming up side to side at a safe distance from the vans.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen” He mumbled. “Alright, change of plans. Keep your distances behind them without being seen, I’ll cut them upfront. When I start drawing the escort, blow the doors of each vans. Fuck being subtle”

With that, he parted ways into a smaller street on his right. You remained hidden into traffic, making sure the bikers did not spot you. Not long after, you heard gunshots and they all were drawn at the front, like Jason had planned. You accelerated closer of the last van at the tail. With one hand, you grabbed your bow on top of the handle, waited for the bike to get back straight and slowed down a bit. In a quick movement, you grabbed an explosive arrow and shot on the van doors, immediately regaining your grip on the handle afterwards. The doors flew open, revealing it empty.

You cursed, but swerved nonetheless around the slowing down van and paused in the driver’s blind spot. You knew they’d look for you to pass them, so you got ready with a blade in your hands. You waited a bit more before rolling up to the window and throwing the blade in the guy’s throat before he could shoot you. You repeated the same operation with the next van, also taking down two rogue bikers that had left Jason’s distraction to get to you. That van ended up empty as well.

“Two down, one to go” 

“Alright, hurry up, those fuckers just keep coming from I don’t fucking know where-- FUCK”

“Hang on, I’m almost done”

Nothing in the last van either. You frowned, thinking how easy it had been for you to bust the vans. The bikers guarding the vans surely couldn’t be that stupid to still hover around Jason while you were clearly open, even if there was nothing. But you chased the doubt aside, and instead tuned in the frequency with everyone else

“Our vans are empty”

“So are our” It was Tim who replied a few seconds later. “Wait, vans in plural? B, did you get more vans too?”

“Only one, empty too” 

“Where did your intel come from again?” Tim asked. A moment of silence followed. 

“You and Jason should get out of there, something’s not right on the monitor--”

You lost contact when you were violently hit from the side by a black car. You were projected off your bike and sent rolling down several meters away. Your suit and helmet took most of the fall, ripping and breaking with the rough friction on the asphalt. You visor cracked and the protective plastic lining broke at the base. Your vision was blurry for a second, and your muscles barely responsive. You pushed through the pain anyway and carefully took off your helmet, throwing it away. You looked up and tried to focus on the figure in black coming toward you, and when you did, you gathered your remaining strength and managed a kneeling position. It was Luthor. 

You were about to shoot one of your dart when he shot first, sending  a shockwave through your already weak muscles. You fell forward on all fours with a barely contained scream tearing through your throat. 

“We meet again” His voice was deeper than you expected, and way too calm. You didn’t like it. “I knew if I organized this little parade, you’d come back out there following the masked clowns”

So, it was a setup.

“Where’s the weapon?” You rasped.

“Safe in my underground storing since this morning” He replied smugly. “Don’t beat yourself up, you had no chance. You came too close last time at the lab”

“Kill me now and get over with it”

“Now why would I want to do that? I just wanted to see you from up close” He smirked. “I knew those eyes the second I looked at you the other day. And now that I have you here without that stupid mask, I can see you took more after your mother than I had planned”

You gritted your teeth, panting from the pain of the electrical shock that had gone through you. Hairs were falling out of your braid and sticking to your forehead, yet you didn’t care. You could only glare at him.

“But you’re still my daughter. You belong to me” 

You lunged, but another electric shock sent you back on your knees with a strangled cry. It had been a reflex on your part, since you were usually pretty good a pushing your pain aside. But you had been off ever since your last encounter with him. He got in your head so easily, and now he wouldn’t leave. 

“I am Thaelib fi alzalam” You rasped out. “And I don’t”

“Ah yes, I figured you would deny your name when we finally met” He seemed amused. “And you do, legally speaking. Your mother were under contract to deliver you and walk away. Instead she stole you from me. She stole years of work, for what? So you could become no one”

“You killed her!” You belted out, eyes wide with rage. “You forced us into hiding, she sent me to the League to protect me from you”

“Is that what you think? Or what she told you?” He was becoming impatient. “You were special. You were my first successful genetic clone, but her own selfishness got in the way”

“She wasn’t selfish” You tried to reach for a blade on your thigh, but another shock forced you on your hands. “You were”

“I was?” He put a hand on his chest. “I gave you your superior skills, I gave you your speed, I made you like this. I gave you that gift, that power, that strength, all of it so you could make it out in this world. I did it for you, from a father to his daughter”

You lifted your head a frown on your face. You skills? What was he talking about?

“You didn’t think the League’s training gave you those skills, did you?” He scoffed. “As I told you, you’re special, my girl. I only wished for you to thrive”

“No” You mumbled, narrowing your eyes. Your mother never specified you were enhanced. Did she even know? All that time you thought your successes were from your hard work, but they were really from a genetic modification. You always knew there was something peculiar about you that made you feel like you didn’t exactly belong with the others, and it had just been revealed to you. And what else could he have put inside of you, you weren’t aware about? It made your head spin.

“You’re not one of them, you realize it now” He stalked toward you. “Not the League, not the vigilantes either. Your mother stole you away from what you were made for, and the League merely repressed it. But you can’t fight your nature”

You didn’t look up when he stooped in front of you. You only glanced at your black gloved hands, realizing that all you had suffered only delayed the inevitable. If your mother hadn’t ran away, maybe all of your struggle and pain would have never happened.

“Come with me” He offered. “This internal conflict you have will subside quickly enough once you’re back home, you’ll see”

You ears were ringing as his proposition replayed in your head in loops. Maybe if you agreed he’d stop tormenting you then, maybe he’d leave your head and you could finally rest without obsessing over him. You slowly looked up, but something coming on your side made your eyes widen. Only then the sound reached your ears, and in a quick reflex movement, you rolled away.

Jason was walking toward you, shooting his bullet in rapid fire in Luthor’s direction.

Luthor noticed him half a second later and jumped away, running away and climbing in his black car. He drove away as Jason reached your, his eyes trailed on the retreating black cadillac. Then, he turned to you, the glossing red of his helmet staring back at you.

“You okay?”

You shook your head no.

[violetsmoak]

Pieces of April [15/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Author’s Note: Here's your daily reminder to stay inside, wash your hands and not to hoard toilet paper! As a reward, enjoy another chapter of POA, featuring sass, subtle and not so subtle inklings of romance, and off-screen appearance of another Bat!

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

After two movies and being so distracted that Ives kicks his ass at Mario Kart, Tim returns to his apartment. It’s not very late in vigilante time—two o’clock, as promised—and he’s sort of half expecting Jason to be still awake when he gets back.

The older man is sitting on the couch in the living room, flipping absently through the channels, eye flicking to the baby-monitor beside him every few seconds like he’s prepared to jump into action if he hears a cry.  

“Has she been keeping you up?” Tim asks as he strides over.

Jason blinks blearily at him. “No.”

“Then why don’t you grab some sleep while you can? There’s no point staying up if you don’t have to.”

“First of all—fuck you. Second of all, that’s rich comin' from the family insomniac. And third, I’m havin' trouble shuttin' my brain off, okay? It’s still tryin' to figure out if I didn’t accidentally travel to another alternate reality of something.”

A sharp, distorted cry echoes over the monitor and Jason really does jump.

“Stay put,” Tim tells him, already heading for the stairs. “I’ll get her.”

It’s still surprising when Jason listens to him, which Tim puts down to being in a desperate situation. He hopes that having someone else in the apartment to help with Isa will diminish whatever anxiety has the older man wound so tight.

Once upstairs, Tim slips into the guestroom and scoops her into his arm, wincing at the shrill squealing cry. After a quick check of her diaper—blessedly empty—he carries her still crying form downstairs to prepare a bottle for her.

Jason winces when they appear and—he doesn’t really run away, but he makes a hasty exit over the stairs.

Tim huffs under his breath. “It’s not like she’s a bomb, Jason. Geeze.”

Though she is doing an excellent job imitating a percussion grenade while they wait for the bottle of formula to warm up in the microwave, so maybe there are some similarities.

“It was thirty seconds, not thirty years, calm down,” he grumbles as she latches onto the plastic nipple like a starving animal.

He watches her nurse for a few minutes, brows furrowed and mind on Jason.

I know he’s still adjusting, but at some point, it’s got to start sinking in, right? I mean, he’s not even planning on keeping her, it’s all temporary, so there’s no reason for him to be this out of it.

Unless there’s more going on than just a surprise baby—which, given Jason’s past and present activities, could very well the issue.

I wonder how hard he’d punch me if I suggested he talk to someone about this?

Not Dick, obviously; calling him has always been one of Tim’s major avenues of support when he’s going through hard times, but he knows Jason would rather crawl through broken glass than open up to his predecessor.

Sometimes I think Jason’s relationship with Dick is a hundred times more complicated than it is with anyone else in the family…

Isa gives a dissatisfied whimper and turns her face away from the bottle. Tim frowns, seeing that she’s barely drunk a quarter of it, and tries to tempt her to take another, but she refuses, already going dozy and limp with sleep.

“Really? After all that? You raise holy hell and you don’t even finish it?” He snorts. “You really are his.”

It’s an effort to get the sleepy infant to burp, but he manages it; she passes out before he’s even made it back up the stairs and back to Jason’s room.

Despite having explicit permission to enter without knocking, Tim’s still uneasy broaching Jason’s personal space. Especially since Tim can tell he’s not asleep, even if he’s lying on his bad, holding a pillow over his face like he’s trying to block everything out.

Tim carefully arranges the baby back in her basket-bassinet, and quietly asks Jason, “Need anything else?”

Jason mutters something that sounds suspiciously like "Another life", and turns his back on both Tim and the baby.

And really, what can he even say to that?

It’s a problem for some other time.

Tim takes a quick shower, before faceplanting onto his unmade bed. The exhaustion he’s been ignoring for the past day or so finally hits him, and he passes out without even getting up to turn off the lights.

By some miracle, he gets six hours of uninterrupted sleep before his alarm goes off later that morning. He doesn’t feel fully rested, but he gave up on chasing that sensation two Robins ago.

After dressing and taming his hair (it might be time for a haircut soon), he spends an extra ten minutes checking the bruises on his face—they’ve gone from dark purple to blue—and applying a liberal amount of cover-up. A beat later, he adds a bit of eyeliner as well, to give an appearance of alertness that he doesn’t quite feel.

Heading downstairs his nose twitches as he becomes cognizant of an unfamiliar smell.

Of...someone’s cooking?

He finds Jason in his kitchen, flipping pancakes. The baby carrier is in the middle of the kitchen island, Isa sleeping soundly in a cocoon of blankets.

Instead of asking Jason why he’s cooking, Tim grabs a coffee cup from the cupboard and turns on his Keurig. “How was the first night?”

He doesn’t expect Jason to respond beyond irritated grunting, and so is surprised when he answers.

“Took me an hour to fall asleep,” he says. “Then at four she woke me up…then at six…and then just now. So, I decided, screw it, I’m hungry anyway. And about the only thing you have all the ingredients for are pancakes.” He shoots Tim a judging look. “I don’t even think you have maple syrup. It’s a disgrace.”

“I think there might be corn syrup in the pantry?”

“Disgrace,” Jason repeats.

Tim ignores him and glances at the two dozen pancakes he’s caught sight of behind Jason’s bulk. “Exactly how many people are you feeding?”

Something that might be a blush darkens Jason’s cheeks.

“I may have gotten a little distracted,” he admits defensively. “But I needed something mindless to do and it worked, so just…shut up and eat.”

He shoves a plate with three pancakes at Tim, who doesn’t have the heart to tell Jason he doesn’t really eat breakfast. Instead, he goes looking for the much-maligned corn syrup and takes the smallest pancake he can find in the bunch.

It’s only polite, after all.

Isa starts to whimper again and Jason groans. “There is no way you’re hungry again, I just fed you.”

Instead, he carts her over to the coffee table—the vintage Henredon table Tim actually spent a couple of weeks tracking down because it resembled one his parents had when he was a child—has since yesterday seemingly become the chosen changing station. 

There are piles of fresh diapers and wipes spread out on it, clearly from earlier changes, and there’s a pail next to it, along with the detritus of the packaging it was in.

“That can’t be sanitary,” Tim says. “Or environmentally friendly.”

“Yeah, well, your highness can shell out for cloth diapers and hire a service to clean them if that’s your issue.”

Tim rolls his eyes but wisely doesn’t reply to that, instead busying himself with finishing off the giant pancake and a much-needed cup of coffee.

“Ugh,” he hears Jason say after a while. “Are we sure this is a human child? Because what’s coming out of her doesn’t look human.”

Tim chokes on a large lump of pancake and glares across the room. “Yes, thanks for that while I’m eating.”

“As if your stomach hasn’t been tested by many a murder scene.”

“Never while I was eating,” Tim grumbles and pushes his plate away. He hunts down a travel mug for his second much-needed cup of coffee and then grabs his messenger bag from the hook on the door.

He’s halfway headed for the garage when he pauses and considers Jason again.

“Do you need me to stay?” he asks. “I mean, it’s the first day you’re doing this, so—”

“I don’t need you holding my hand, Drake,” Jason deadpans, “especially since you’re not going to be here during the day anyway. No point in getting used to a crutch.”

Tim isn’t sure he likes that comparison.

“You sure?”

“I figured out how to defuse bombs, I can figure this out.”

“Okay…but Safiya did give you her number, right? You know there’s no shame in calling her if you’re stuck.” That earns him a withering glare. “Just saying.” He offers Jason a mock-salute. “Enjoy learning how to baby.”

“Fuck you.”

“Language!”

“She’s two days old, she doesn’t know what the hell I’m sayin’.”

“A-plus childcare, Mary Poppins,” Tim mutters—under his breath because he doesn’t actually want to be punched this early in the morning—and finally leaves.

Once at the office, he falls into his usual routine—perfunctory greetings to people he should only know by sight but for whom he has done extensive background checks, sitting in a board meeting and chewing out the legal team for not filing their water-filter patent faster (he may have brushed it off to spare people the wrath of Damian, but he fully understands the kid’s anger), a stop at the break-room for a third cup of coffee and to keep an ear out for the office gossip.

Tam is waiting in his office when he finally settles in for the rest of the morning.

“How’s everything going at home?” she asks, closing the door behind her. She hands him his schedule for the day and a checklist of phone calls to return and products that require oversight.

“As well as can be expected,” he replies, sipping his coffee. “It’s an adjustment.”

“No kidding. You go from single, introvert shut-in bachelor to living with Dream Daddy overnight.”

Tim promptly inhales and then spits out very hot coffee, only narrowly missing a stack of contracts that need reviewing.

Tam’s eyes flick to the mess. “I’m not cleaning that up.”

“Why would you say that?” he splutters as his brain frantically tries to reboot after the shock.

“Because it’s not my job to clean up after the functional man-child that is my boss?”

“Not that.” He glares. “Filling my brain with disturbing notions.”

“Is the disturbing notion that I said it, or that you know what Dream Daddy is?”

“The disturbing thing is that you think my—” He pauses, hesitant to use the word ‘brother’ in relation to Jason, if only because it feels wrong for some inexplicable reason. ‘Friend’ is also a gross over-estimation of their relationship. “—new roommate is attractive.”

“Well, some of us have eyes,” Tam shrugs.

“And some of us have criteria for what we find attractive beyond looks.”

“Right. Forgot. You like the dangerous types that try to kill you first and ask questions later.”

Tim opens his mouth to object, and then tilts his head to one side to acknowledge it: given his recent dating history, she’s not wrong. “You forget that type tends to be female. As in something my new roommate most definitely is not.”

“Puh-lease, I’ve seen you when you’re hanging out with Connor. You can’t tell me that’s a hundred percent platonic.”

“It is!”

“If you say so,” Tam replies. “But you forget—I’ve kissed you. And I’ve never felt less spark or even interest in a guy before.”

“Because I was surprised,” Tim grouses. “That doesn’t mean I don’t like women. You’ve met Stephanie.”

“Yeah, but she told me she hit you in the face with a brick the first time you two met.”

“I regret ever introducing you to each other,” Tim groans, pressing his face into his hands. “Look, you’re the one who decided us dating would be a bad idea, so don’t go taking that as evidence that I’m gay.”

“First of all, our dating would be a bad idea, and not even just because of the inevitable involvement of ninjas or Vicki Vale’s byline. I’ve already explained why—which you agreed with at the time. And second of all, I never said you were gay, I said you had a type. Lynx tried to break you with a sword, Connor broke your arm, and as I said, there was Steph…Point is, gender has nothing to do with it, you’re just a masochist.”

“I must be since I put up with you,” he sighs. “Let me be clear: I have no interest, nor will I ever have interest in…my new roommate. And this is so far from the appropriate place to talk about this stuff.”

“And he pulls the ‘boss’ card,” Tam narrates sarcastically. “Fine, I’ll leave it alone. For now. Only because I have a conference call with my opposite number in Hong Kong.” She heads out but can’t resist throwing an over-dramatic sigh over her shoulder. “Maybe if I had the ability to throw you through a wall, you and I would have had a chance. Guess we’ll never know.”

She opens the door to the office, and then she’s gone, leaving Tim to parse the utterly bewildering turn to the conversation.

“How did we even get on that topic?” he mutters to himself, searching his desk for his glasses.

God, she can never find out that Jason tried to kill me that first time we met. I’ll never hear the end of it. Even if she’s completely wrong about all this, I’ll have to deal with knowing looks the rest of my life…

Tim makes a valiant effort to lose himself in his work after that, if only to erase the memory of Jason being called ‘daddy’ by another adult. He cleans up his desk as best he can, wrinkling his nose at the idea the place is going to smell like stale coffee for a while, and then does a quick triage of what work needs to be done now and what can wait.

He manages to lose himself for a few hours, working even through lunch, before setting aside time to wrestle with the current problem in his life: namely, helping Jason find someone to step in and deal with the baby situation.

It’s not like a business deal or falling stock options. A human being doesn’t come with cheat codes or hacks.

Well…not directly.

Tim grins to himself and opens an encrypted server to access to the CPS servers. Jason’s adamant about not working through the system, but that doesn’t mean they can’t investigate families within the system on their own and outside of whatever arbitrary criteria individual caseworkers use to evaluate potential parents. It’s a starting point.

At the same time, he’s using his personal computer that’s linked in with the Nest system to add a few extra layers of protection to Jason’s falsified information. It’s a fairly routine task, but he wants to ensure no one realizes he’s there.

His screen freezes.

 O: Do I need to know why you suddenly needed to hack the SSA?

 “Almost no one,” Tim corrects himself with a sigh; of course she’s keeping tabs on him.

He types a quick reply:

 T: You mean you don’t already?

O: No. I’m waiting for you to be upfront about it.

 That would be a definite change from the usual Bat modus operandi. He wonders how long it’s going to last.

 T: Precautionary alias for a case.

O: I see.

T: You know if it was anything more than that I’d have reached out.

O: Even if it involves a certain red sheep of the family?

 Tim groans, and only just refrains from pressing his palms against his eyes in frustration. Babs’ stance on Jason isn’t exactly clear, and she’s just as likely to give Bruce a heads-up about possible Red Hood antics coming up as wait for him to figure it out himself.

 T: Even then. This is a personal thing and I’m handling it.

O: Alright. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt.

O: For now.

 Which Tim knows from experience will only last for so long; any potential threat in Gotham—and Jason is still occasionally classified as one of those—and Oracle might just take a page out of Batman’s mitigation playbook.  

“Problem for another day,” he tells himself.

He’s starting to feel like that’s going to become his new mantra.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

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Next Chapter

[lesbiantimwright]

Ghosts of Suburbia, Chapter One

Description: Jessica expects exactly jack-shit when she moves to the far edge of the suburbs. Instead, she gets an abandoned church in the silent part of the woods, a hazy creature stalking her from out of the corn, and a secret she’s hidden from herself. On the bright side, she’s found exactly the group of idiots that won’t let her deal with it alone.

Relationships: Jessica/Amy, background Jay/Tim/Brian

Rating: Teen

Chapter Length: 2k

Chapter Warnings: minor mention of a gun

A/N: This is my first time posting fic to tumblr so??? Idk what I’m doing

Jessica’s exaggerating when she says that Cottonwood was the last place on Earth she wants to spend her summer, but only a little. The place is basically a wasteland of bizarre lawn ornaments, old white people, and houses that wouldn’t ever stop smelling like bad candles. Technically, it’s the suburbs, but not the movie suburbs where the houses are all the same, the lawns are all perfect, and there are house parties, those kind of suburbs would’ve sucked just slightly less. She’d moved in with her dad a day and a half ago and she can already tell that nothing ever happens. 

It’s not just moving unexpectedly in the summer when none of her friends are around to say goodbye, or that her junior year will be at a completely new school where people genuinely care about football, but that it’s fucking Cottonwood. To put it simply, Jessica is trapped in a purgatory between pissed and bored out of her mind. And that’s in the middle of a “party”, too.

Hypothetically, it’s her dad’s way of celebrating her being there, except she has not a single memory of any of these distant relatives and all the food contains gelatin, cool whip, or both. She tries a vegetable tray, thinking that there’s no way to mess that up, just to find everything coated in sugar. One of her supposed uncles is wearing a MAGA hat, and it’s taking every ounce of her self control not to physically combust every time she has the misfortune of looking at him. She’s only holding herself back because her dad is really, really trying and she knows it, so she’ll have to just talk to him about it once everyone’s cleared out. Not that that’s a huge comfort. It was at least 90° out and humid, her phone was at 9%, and nobody’s showing any signs of slowing down.

She stares at the edge of the woods. Everyone’s clumped in the part of the backyard that’s under the shade of some very flimsy tents, the rest of the space made up of a plain of dried, cracking grass and a few kids climbers that she hadn’t even used when she was six, caked with dirt and falling apart in a corner. It looks post-apocalyptic, except for the  group of aunts behind her talking about some gossip so boring that it fades into the background with everything else.

 It would be easy, to just walk out into the trees, she thinks without meaning to and suddenly the idea won’t go away. They look cool, and quiet, and like she won’t be forced to eat bits of pretzel in watermelon jello once she’s in there. She can disappear into the woods for an hour or two. She can disappear. 

Jessica grabs her boots, the heavy ones that have been caked in mud so much that she doesn’t remember what color they were when she bought them, lacing them up as tight as they’ll go. She leaves the tents and the strangers and the questions behind, walking across the crunching grass and into the trees. As the crab-grass fades into leaves and little plants, she thinks that she was right: it’s much cooler in here. 

There isn’t a path, obviously, but as long as she just keeps walking straight, she’ll be fine. Stopping now doesn’t even seem like an option, not when there’s so much deeper to go, now that she’s taken the first steps. Moss clings to the sides of rocks and fungi grows from dead logs, sunlight falls from between the branches, tinted green and splattering over everything. She thinks that she can hear the burble of a stream from somewhere just a little farther, and Jessica wants to find it. Somehow, though there’s no difference between where her feet fall and the rest of the ground, it feels like she’s on a trail anyway, outlined between the trees.

So maybe she loses track of time, and badly, but time isn’t real during the summer anyway. But that doesn’t keep the sunlight from getting thinner and the woods grayer. Maybe she should’ve turned back way sooner, but Jessica swears, every time she pushes back a branch or climbs over a boulder that the creek must be behind it, over and over and over until, finally, it is. But the water isn’t alone.

 She rounds a corner in the not-path and finds her feet at the edge of mud and, past that, a church. Or something that used to be a church. The wood is faded, some of it splintered and falling apart, with gaps in the walls and plaster-dust coating the floor in the parts of the inside she can see. It’s a big, ancient-looking building, like it’s rotted here in the woods as long as there have been trees, but really it probably isn’t more than 20 years old.

 Jessica takes a few steps closer to the creek but doesn’t cross it, walking back and forth along the edge to see more instead.  It looks like parts of it are burned, just odd patches crumbling into ash, the roof caved in over one part, and through a busted-up gap in the wall she can see a few plastic chairs scattered on their sides over a rotted carpet. There’s a cross above the door closest to her, the golden paint on it chipped around the center but still shiny in the slanted evening light. The building goes on and there’s plenty left to explore, but Jessica stops at the edge, her feet just starting to sink into the mud.

 Look, she’s not a superstitious person, she considers herself down-to-earth and reasonable, but as much as she hates to say it, she’s got a feeling. Except it’s not really her feeling, but one that this place owns, hanging over everything; it’s something like dread but quieter. Silent. Nothing moves but her own lungs and ribs, a standstill between her and the empty church. But something, a presence or a feeling or terror, rises, looming like a wave coming from the inside out, about to crash, and for a half second there’s the feeling of light, a pinprick of it in her spine where her back meets her neck-- 

Fuck that, Jessica thinks, grabbing a solid branch from next to her and turning to sprint back into the woods. Of course there isn’t any real danger, the logical part of her brain reminds her, but there’s also no one around to see her running away. Not that booking it fixes the problem. It really just makes her feel like prey, and she holds onto her stick tighter.

Now time’s really gone sideways, and it feels like forever or just a moment before she’s at the edge of the trees again. It’s really dark now, her legs ache, and it takes a long, long time for breathing not to hurt, but it felt like just a few steps to get her here. She knows that it took hours to get that far in. Jessica also knows that she’s lost.  

It’s definitely not her dad’s, cramped, badly-painted house in front of her, but something much bigger and much nicer, something that doesn’t remotely belong in her neighborhood. Shit, shit, shit. She’ll just have to find out where she is and call her dad to pick her up, she thinks, heading towards the street--

“Who’s there?” Comes a hesitant voice from in front of her, towards the house, and she freezes, watching a flashlight beam dance over the ground. 

The grass here is actually green and well kept, too, so definitely not anywhere close to her street. But she’s in Alabama, rich neighborhood or not, so there’s probably someone around here keeps a shotgun for the sole purpose of anyone on their property. Jessica crosses her fingers.

“Uh, hey, I think I’m lost?” She calls, still holding onto her stick because she’s not stupid. 

The beam of light approaches, revealing everything around it, and she immediately decides that she’s safe because she can totally take the guy holding the flashlight. He looks right around her age, scrawny and kinda pale, with big eyes looking at her cautiously out from under a hat. She lets the stick hang down by her side.

“Why--what were you doing in the woods? I thought you were a murderer,” Not-a-Threat explains, and she raises an eyebrow.

“You thought a murderer was coming out of the woods and you go towards them?” He looks guilty, scratching at the back of his neck and failing to come up with a good explanation, so she plows on.

 “I just got lost and came out at the wrong spot and my dad’s probably totally worried about me, can you drive?” Her phone is completely dead, so the sooner she gets home the less grounded she’ll be. 

“Uhhh, not really, but I have a friend who can?” Jessica sighs, more exasperated now than actually shaken, and nods. 

She stands in the dark grass while Not-a-Threat calls his friend who can drive, looking up at the light leaking out from the windows of the big house and listening to the roar of the cicadas. As they go around to the street to wait, she feels stupid. Not just for getting lost in the woods but for genuinely getting scared enough to run out of them like that, like there’s anything to worry about. Sure, an abandoned church in the woods at night is something only an idiot in a horror movie would explore, but she could’ve just walked back and maybe then actually gotten back to her own house.

 “So uh, I’m Jay,” says the guy, shifting the flashlight to his other hand so he can offer the right one, and she takes it.

“Jessica.” They stand under the streetlight for a long time after that until an old, beat-up van pulls up, the edges faded purple, a guy waving out the window at them. He’s looks a little bit scruffy but mostly just tired, with the most actual sideburns she’s ever seen on a teenager in her life, but her first instinct is that he’s good. Still, she brings her stick with her into the back of the car, and borrows Jay’s phone so she can call her dad and let her know the situation. He’s kind of mad but mostly relieved, and guilt tangles in her stomach.

Jay’s friend is named Tim and he is in fact a good guy, clearly making an effort to chat with her as the streetlights come in and out of view beside them. He doesn’t seem surprised when Jessica explains that Jay was going to try and talk to a stranger shuffling out of the woods at night, just laughs and shakes his head. She explains that she’s just moved from Montgomery and gets an adequate amount of sympathy for her situation, and it turns out that they’re going to the same high school in the fall, though, thankfully, neither Jay nor Tim seem like they care about football even a little bit. They give her pointers for which teachers are incompetent and which classmates to avoid, and rehash some of last year’s drama to someone who hasn’t heard it all a billion times.

 It’s the usual stuff that comes with stupid horny teenagers getting stuck with each other for nine months, and by the time they’re pulling into her driveway, Jay’s finishing up a rambling story of two seniors who went at it in the teacher’s lounge and their literature teacher’s dramatic tale of her walking in on it, and she feels more like a real person again. Through the window, she sees her dad stop pacing, running his hands through his hair, and she hurries to get out before the car’s even fully stopped.

 “Jessie, you’re okay!” He’s hugging her, too tightly, but she doesn’t mind. Still, she untangles him after a moment, hyper-aware of Jay and Tim still in the car. 

“I’m sorry dad, I uh, I just wanted to go for a hike and I got lost?” It sounds pathetic as far as excuses go, even if it’s actually what happened, but her dad seems content to chew her out later.

“You’re back in one piece, that’s what matters. Just never, ever do that again. Now, who helped you get here?” He asks, and she immediately knows, dreads, what’s coming. 

“You boys, come on out here, I need to thank you.”They awkwardly get out of the car and stand in front of her dad, Jay picking at a loose thread in his jacket and Tim standing up way too straight, like he’s expecting to be judged on his posture. Instead, her dad just ruffles their hair in the most dad-like and embarrassing way possible, beaming.

 “Thank you so much for bringing my daughter home safely. I worry a lot about these younger generations, but you’re two fine young gentlemen, thank you for proving me wrong. Would you like to come over for lunch tomorrow as a reward?” He offers, and they share a look, mumbling and eventually sort of agreeing out of obligation, but by that point she’s got a hand over her eyes in exasperation. 

She looks up, though, when she hears Tim scrambling around in the back of the car for something, coming back out with the stick she’d left there.“Uh, you want this?” He drawls, and she laughs, taking it. Her dad insists that they come over one more time before letting them go and hugs he one more time before letting her stumble back into the house and up to the bedroom that had been hers when she visited as a kid but is still unfamiliar, and she’s suddenly exhausted.

Jessica forgets all about the little church in the woods, for now.

[poison-basil]

Detective Richard Grayson - Chapter 2

Fuck.

Dick and Red stared at each other, Dick’s eyes wide with surprise and Red’s mouth opening slightly.

“What do I do?” Dick mouthed to Red hoping to get some pointers.

Red did a little shrug, looking equally out of his depth.

Spinning around and looking up Dick saw Hood standing on the fire escape. Right, time to act natural and not like he was gossiping with a vigilante about other said vigilante.

“Hey!” Dick said, wincing at the loudness of his own voice. So much for natural. “I mean, hey, how’s it going Hood?”

Dick ignored the quiet snort coming from behind him and frowned at the smirk on Hood’s face. Before anything else was said Hood jumped down, landing in front of him. Despite his size Hood made an imposing figure.

Dick was pushed to the side by Red as he put himself between Dick and Hood. Red’s form totally eclipsed Hood’s, Dick had to lean around him to see.

Hood had his arms crossed and hip cocked. “I’m doing good Officer. Heard something going down, thought I would check it out.”

Red took a step towards Hood, “Don’t talk to the good Officer Replacement.”

Hood straightened his shoulders, his chest puffing in defense. “He doesn’t seem to mind.” and Hood nods in Dick’s direction.

Red moved, again blocking Dick’s view of Hood.

He grabbed Red’s arm and pushed him to the side. “I don’t mind.”

“See.” Hood said, shrugging and a slight smirk appearing on his face.

“Well he should.” Red said, glaring between Hood and himself. “If he had any sense of self preservation.”

“Hey!” Dick shouted, glaring at Red, “I can make my own decisions.”

“Dumb ones,” Red says, he sticks out his hand and points at Hood. “He’s a killer, he has killed people, like killed em dead, you know what that means right? They aren’t gonna wake up and get on with their day, they are probably gonna rot away in there shallow graves! He’s a bad guy!”

Hood looks about as shocked at Red’s outburst as Dick feels.

Hood shifts slightly from foot to foot. “Well, now I know how you truly feel about me.” If Dick was reading and hearing him right, he would think that Hood was actually hurt by Red’s words.

“Well, nothing has officially been confirmed, he’s shot people, but never been linked to a killing by the GCPD. He grievously wounds them, but so do you and Batman, I don’t see much difference from where I stand.” Dick explains, after meeting Hood he checked him out to see if there was any information on him. As he said there was nothing linking Hood to any murders in Gotham.

Red spluttered a little, looking between him and Hood. “No but,” he looks at Dick, “He said he’d-”

“No I didn’t.” Hood interrupts and Red’s head snaps so fast Dick as to wince.

“What?”

“I never said I killed anyone.”

“You-” Red’s hands drop to his sides, his face scrunched in a way that Dick would describe as confusion. “You must have or-”

Hood interrupts him again. “I didn’t. Before you even met me, as Red Hood I mean, Batman was calling me a criminal.”

“He wouldn’t just do that.” Red said, his jaw tight.

Hood groaned. Putting his hands on his hips. Sassy. “Come on Red, you know better than to believe everything B tells us.” He puffs out a breath that blows his fringe to the side.

“Not about this… not about you.”

“What about him?” Dick says, surprising himself, both of them looked at him as though they forgot he was there for a moment.

“You remember the other Robin? The one that died?” Dick nods. How could he forget? The Joker rubbed it in the Bats face whenever he got the chance.

But what did that have to do with Hood? Dick looks back to him, Hood is standing unnaturally still, like he is waiting for the shadows to swallow him.

No. No, no, no, no.

It couldn’t be be. Could it?

This was little Robbie?

Dick takes to staring at Hood. Drawing parallels between what he knew about Robbie and Hood before him.

The jaw and the hair style - other than the white now running through his fringe. Now that he thought about it, they way that he talks is similar to Rob as well.

So much for Detective.

Though, he supposes if he thought Robbie was going to come back from the dead, he would of thought he was crazy.

“But how?”

Hood turned up his chin, keeping quiet. So he wasn’t going to say anything. He looked at Red and saw that he was working his jaw.

Dick waited him out, arms folded.

Red signed and kicked out his leg. He began pacing, fists clenching and unclenching. He marched over to Hood and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, applying pressure that made Hood stumble a bit.

“This little guy right here, went and died a couple years ago, as you know. But a few months ago he turned up with guns, putting holes in people.” Red smirked at him. “Can’t tell you all the gritty details - we like our little secrets, but you understand that something woo woo must of happened.”

Suddenly Hood had Red’s wrist twisting at an unnatural angle. Red dropped to his knees, crying out as Hood twisted it more. “Shut up.” Hood growled.

Dick felt a shiver go down his spine at the threat in Hood’s voice.

Quickly pulling his gun, Dick aimed it at Hood.

Cocking his gun got Hood’s attention.

As though breaking out of a trance Hood shook his head and let go of the wrist, he backed up hands raised in surrender. Dick lowered his gun and breathed in a silent breath of relief.

“Sorry -” Hood said, it sounded strained, “I didn’t mean-”

Red got up from the floor and glared at Hood, Dick was scared Red was going to retaliate but to his surprise Red stayed where he was.

“Calm down Hood.” Red said, his voice level and deep.

Hood’s hand went to his hair and pulled, Dick worried that he might actually pull it out. His face was twisted in fury and pain.

Dick went to take a step forward but Red’s hand shot out and stopped him, Dick looked at him, confused as to why he was being stopped. Red wasn’t looking at him though, his eyes were trained on Hood.

“What’s happening?” Dick asked, making sure to whisper.

“Shush,” Red said and louder he called out to Hood. “You gotta calm down.”

“Nononono.”

“You gotta stay calm Replacement, you know that.”

Dick pushed past Red’s arm, this kid needed help and he wasn’t going to just stand there when he obviously needed someone.

Before he got within arms reach Hood’s head snapped to him. He let go of his hair he put his hands out in front of him, trying to keep Dick away from him. Hood worried his lip, slowly shuffling backwards.

“Sta- Stay away!” Hood’s voice trembled over his words. “D-don’t come any closer.”

“I just want to help.” Dick took another step closer.

“No!” Hood shouted, he was panicking and reached for his gun, his hands were trembling as he tried to pull it out the holster.

Before he could lift it, Red flung a bird-a-rang knocking it out of Hood’s hand and it clattered to the floor.

Dick watched as Hood just stared at the gun. As though he couldn’t comprehend how it got there, and that tugged at Dick’s heart strings.

Hood was whispering something to himself, Dick noticed that it was the same word over and over again. ‘Wrong’.

“Go home Hood.” Red said, Hood looked up at him and nodded slowly bending down to pick up his gun.

“No, leave that.” Hood stopped and frowned at him, his head tilted. “Don’t want you wondering like you are right now with that.”

Standing back up Hood looked between both Red and Dick.

Dick felt like Hood lingered on him a little longer.

“You’re just gonna let him go like that?” Dick says watching as Hood got out his grapple.

Red Robin gave a tight nod. “There’s nothing we can do when he gets like this, it’s better to leave him be, to work it out, he prefers it that way. Doesn’t like people to see him like this.”

Dick flinched at the sound of the grapple being fired and watched Hood scale the building.

“What was that?”

Red frowned, “Let’s call it madness. When he came back, he wasn’t the same. Little things set him off, sometimes he gets really sad but most of the time he gets really mad, angry. He likes to be alone when they happen, so we don’t really know much about them.” Red looked at Dick, “But what just happened here, that’s new, i’ve never seen him so out of it.”

“If you knew he was on a hair trigger why did you grab him like he was a misbehaving puppy?” “It was an instant reaction, when he was Robin I would do it to calm him sometimes when he was upset,” Red clenched his fists. “I’ll have to make sure I don’t do it again.”

Red started to rotate his wrist and winced and Dick frowned slightly. That was the wrist that Hood twisted.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good, ego’s a just little bruised though.” Red said, through a half smile on his face.

“It’ll be our little secret Red, that you got your ass handed to you by a guy just over half your size.” Dick grinned at the groan Red made.

“You’re being mean.” And Dick honestly couldn’t believe the pout he saw on Red’s face.

Suddenly lights were flashing at the end of the alley distracting Dick for a moment. The cavalry had arrived to pick up the purp who was still unconscious.

Dick looked back to say by to Red Robin, but he was already gone.

Dick grinned and shook his head, Vigilantes.

__________

Dick got out of his car outside his apartment block, making sure to lock it was he turned towards the doors.

But a figure sitting next to it made him pause.

It was too dark to see any details about the person sitting there, so Dick made his way over. It was getting cold this time of night and Dick didn’t want them sleeping outside. Dick just wanted to make sure that they were ok.

It could just be one of the kid’s from his block had been locked out and Dick knew pretty much everyone that lived there, so that would be quick to work out once he got a good look at him.

Making sure to approach them calmly Dick called out, “Hey.”

As soon as the person lifted their head to look at him, Dick knew who it was. He would know those eyes anywhere.

Tim.

Tim was here.

Tim seem to stumble as he stood and for a second Dick was worried that the younger man was drunk.

Dick rushed over to him and was instantly relieved that the smell of alcohol was absent. Dick took a moment to take in Tim’s attire, he looked as though he’d rushed here, all his clothes asque and Dick was pretty sure his shirt was on inside out.

“Hey Dick.”

Tim’s voice sounded hoarse like he’d screamed for hours. Dick worried his lip before replying, “Hey Timmy, you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just wanted to see you.” Tim said, the smile Tim tried to make looked more like a grimace.

Dick pulled him towards the door, “Let’s get into my apartment, you’re so cold. How long have you been sitting out here?”

Tim scrunched his forehead. “What time is it now?”

Dick looked at his watch as they made their way past the security desk on the way to the elevator. “It’s three thirty.”

Tim blinks up at him as they enter the elevator and Dick presses the button. “About forty minutes I think.”

Dick felt some relief that Tim hadn’t been sitting outside for hours.

Now that they were in the light Dick could see that Tim was slightly shivering, rubbing his arms up and down. He pulled the younger man to his side, trying to give him some of his warmth.

There were bags under Tim’s eyes, more pronounced than they had been earlier in the day.

Tim was tugging at his heart strings and his need to look after him won out over his need to be away from him.

Getting out of the elevator they both walked to Dick’s door and as he was getting out his keys he heard Tim mumble something.

“Sorry, what was that?” Dick said, opening the door, he ushered the exhausting man in.

“I said, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

Tim nodded and walked down the hall when Dick pointed to the living room.

Dick was on his heels, “Why are you sorry?”

Tim was holding himself. Avoiding all eye contact with him. Dick took a step towards him and Tim backed up, his thighs hitting the back of the sofa.

“Well, I turned up without giving you any warning for one.” He bit his lip in a painful manor that had Dick wincing. “And I’m pretty sure I did something earlier that made you flee the cafe, so I’m kinda imposing on you right?”

Tim thought it was his fault. Dick growled in frustration and Tim flinched away. Fuck this is what he thought had happened and though Dick knew it was likely it still made him frustrated. This was making things worse. If Tim thought that Dick was in the wrong that would be ok, but now Dick had to try and convince Tim that it wasn’t his.

Which would be difficult without letting Tim know what he’d been thinking earlier.

“Timmy you aren’t imposing, if I didn’t want you want you up here I would of just told you to go home.” Tim is blinking at him as though he didn’t even think that was an option.

Dick walked to the kitchen to put his stuff on the counter and watched as Tim walked around the sofa and sat down. Dick grabbed a blanket from the back of a chair and brought it to Tim, holding it out for him to take, as soon as he did he walked back into the kitchen setting up some coffee.

“You hungry?” He asks and gets a little nod from Tim.

Dick hasn’t done shopping for a few days, so he was going to have to order in. There weren’t that many places open at this time, but this was Gotham and somewhere was always open.

Digging around in his draws he pulled out a couple of viable restaurant menus.

He took them over to Tim and dropped them in his lap, Tim looked up at him confused.

“I need you to order while I go get changed. Pick what restaurant you want, all my favourites are circled so just pick me something I don’t mind and I’ll pay for it when I go down to collect it.” Dick said.

Dick was just doing up his pants when he heard a little cough from the doorway. Tim was standing there, his face slightly flushed red and looking at the floor.

“I ordered the food, said they’d be here in an hour.”

“Nice, thanks Timmy.” Dick grabbed a shirt and pulled it on. As he got it over his head he caught Tim staring at his chest. Dick grinned and flexed his pecks.

Tim’s face goes becomes more red and he lets out a surprised squeak before leaving the room in a hurry.

Dick laughs and pulls his top all the way down and leaves his bedroom. Tim is sitting back on the sofa, knees pulled to his chest and wrapped in the blanket.

He looked so cute wrapped up in that blue blanket. Dick went and grabbed two cups and poured some coffee adding some sugar and creamer to his.

He walked over to the other side of the sofa and sat down next to Tim handing him his drink.

Tim took his cup and brought it to his nose and deeply inhales the scent and letting out a pleased sigh. Dick watched with a warmness building his gut. It was good to see him so relaxed around him, enjoying himself.

Dick wanted to know something though. “Why are you here?” Tim gave him a weary look and Dick quickly carried on, “Not that I don’t want you here Timmy, I do, but it’s late and you probably shouldn’t be walking around Gotham this time of night, being who you are and all…”

Tim scoffed, “No one knows who I am, all they know is Timothy Drake who wears suits and goes to meetings.They don’t know Tim.”

The scowl on Tim’s face causes wrinkles in his brow. “It’s still dangerous out there Timmy, for someone as pretty as you.”

“You think I’m pretty?” Tim’s eyes are wide as he looks straight at Dick. Open and honest. Dick wants to take his words back, so that Tim doesn’t end up reading too much into it.

But he can’t do that to this man sitting in front of him, so Dick plays it off, “Yeah, course you are Timmy, everybody whos met you thinks you’re pretty.”

Tim hums and takes a sip of his coffee making more pleased noises, and Dick has to carefully adjust himself in his pants.

“Thanks,” Tim says and Dick raises a brow in question, “For telling me I’m pretty.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Before the conversation could go on the buzzer is rung announcing the food. Dick gets up to answer, tells them hell come down and collect it now.

“Be back in a sec!” He shouts to Tim on his way out the door.

Dick is back about 5 minutes later, carrying a bag of food. He puts it on the coffee table in front of Tim. “I’ll get us some plates.”

Tim takes the food out of the bag and lays it out on the table, taking the lids off the containers, Dicks mouth starts to water at the smell of chinese food.

Dick comes back and sits down, “Thanks, here's a plate.” Dick says passing him one.

Tim quickly points out which ones are for Dick and which are his and Dick nods, reaching for his rice.

“So I noticed that you deflected my question earlier Timmy,” Tim tries to look innocent as he shovels noodles into his mouth. “None of that,” Dick says and watches Tim puff his cheeks a little, “Why are you here?”

“Can’t I just stop by for no reason?”

“Not with how I left things earlier and you ignoring my calls, obviously you didn’t wanna talk and now here you are in my apartment,” Now that Dick thinks about it, how did Tim know where he lives? “How did you know where I live?”

Tim mulls over his answers, slowly chewing his food. “Barbara let me know where you live.” Dick nodded, that made sense, Dick knew Barbara through work since her dad was the commissioner and Tim knew her from the library when he used to go there to do his homework. “As to why I’m here… I just had a rough day and it made me want to see you, just looking at your face makes me feel better Dick.”

“Bad day? What happened?” Dick asked, taking a bite of his orange chicken.

Tim looked to the ceiling as though in silent prayer. “Some idiots at work thinking that just because I’m younger I don’t know anything about my own freaking company! Without me they wouldn’t even have jobs! I shouldn’t have to fight for my voice to be heard by the board in my own company!” Tim said, heaving in angry breaths. “And Bruce is insistent that I move back in with him, thought it seems more to do with keeping an eye on me than wanting me around. Oh! And his son! Jason! That bastard has always made it his mission to make my life a misery and suddenly he wants to get along! Not fucking likely.”

Tim’s out bust has Dick almost choking on his food. He thought Tim liked living with the Waynes. He thinks about a little Tim sitting in that huge manor thinking he’s all alone with no one to talk to and Dick feels like a terrible person. He never noticed there was anything wrong.

“Is it really that bad? Jason wants to be friends now, right?” Dick tries.

He angrily shoves more food in his mouth, “Well, how would you feel if you’re childhood bully, who lives with you, suddenly out of nowhere wanted to be friends with you?” Tim glares at his fork as though it holds answers. “He has hurt me more than anyone else I’ve ever known! When I was young, I looked up to Jason, wanted nothing more than for him to just notice me and guess what? He noticed me, when I moved into the Manor he let me know just how much I wasn’t wanted.”

“Oh.” Dick says, his fork halfway to his mouth.

“And now that I’m back he wants to know my whereabouts at all times. It’s suffocating and strange.” Tim said, eyeing Dick. “No one ever really cared what I was up to before I left.  My parents didn’t care, they were always away, Bruce cared in so much that I was his ward and responsibility and Jason hated my existence.”

“There must of been someone right? Who cared? You always seemed happy when we hung out.” Dick felt like throwing up. How could he of missed this?

Tim gave him a little smile. “That’s because you were the person that cared. You genuinely wanted to know more about me and be around me. Also Alfred, he was the only reason it was bearable living in the Manor.”

Dick could feel his eyes start to water, oh god, Dick should of done more, paid more attention to his brilliant kid. He didn’t hang out with Tim all that much. Not enough to warrant such devotion.

Dick leaned over and pulled the food from Tim’s hands and he made a small sound protest. After putting the food down on the table Dick grabbed Tim’s arm and pulled him into a tight hug.

“What’re you doing Dick?” Tim said, his voice muffled by Dick’s chest.

“Hugging you, for all the missed time while you were away.” Dick brushed a hand though Tim’s thick, silky back locks. “I’m sorry you’ve been through so much Timmy. I would of helped if you’d let me know.”

Tim relaxed into his hold, “I didn’t tell you because you were my safe haven, I didn’t want to ruin that by bringing up all the bad. I just wanted to have a few hours now and then and forget about all that.”

Dick lifted Tim’s head, locking eyes with him. “I’m sorry I didn’t do more.” Dick whispered.

Tim looked at him for a long moment, his eyes were quickly flickering around his face. This gaze landed on his lips. Dick swallowed and licked his lips and watched as Tim’s eyes followed the movement tongue.

“Tell me to stop.”

“Stop?”

“Yeah,” Tim said, his voice breathy. “Stop me if you don’t want this.” Tim leaned up and lightly kissed him.

Dick froze, unable to think about anything other than the feeling of Tim’s soft plump lips against his. Tim’s eyes were closed and Dick could feel Tim’s heart beat against his chest. Tim was pulling away and Dick snapped into action, pulling Tim to him, pressing his lips to his.

Dick lightly licked Tim’s bottom lip, asking for entrance which he allowed, Tim opened and Dick licked into his mouth, tasting him.

God he tasted good, Dick shuffled closer to him and bit Tim’s lip making him moan out.

Suddenly Dick was all too aware of what was going on. He pushed Tim away with more force than he meant to and he fell off the sofa and hit his head of the edge of the coffee table. Tim rolled to his side and groaned, holding his head.

Dick rushed and knelt down next to him, “I’m so sorry Tim. I didn’t mean to hurt you! Oh god are you ok?”

Tim slapped his hands away, and slowly sat up, groaning. “It’s ok Dick, just leave it.” Tim gently lifted himself from the floor and sat back on the sofa. “You could of just told me to stop.” He glared up at him.

Dick floundered, he didn’t know what to say, he reached forward and Tim leaned back.

“Leave it Dick.”

“But -”

Tim sighed cutting him off, he started to get up and Dick waited anxiously incase Tim fell, tense and ready to catch him.

“I’m gonna get going before this gets weirder.” Tim says, “It was good seeing you, I’ll call sometime to hang out again. Just forget this ever happened alright Dick?”

“No I-” Dick couldn’t think of anything to say.

Tim turned and made his way to the door, Dick rushed after him, “But how are you going to get back?”

“I’ll get a taxi, I’ll be fine Dick, I’ll message you when I’m home.”

“You can stay here the night, take my bed, I’ll sleep out here.”

“I can’t do that, I’m going home.”

“At least let me drive you home?”

Tim leveled a glare at him from over his shoulder, his hand on the handle. “I’ll be fine, honestly. It really was good to see you again Dick. Let’s do this some other time alright?”

Dick nodded his head yes, as Tim walked out the door, he grabbed it quickly and watched as Tim walked down the hall, absently rubbing his head.

Fuck.

He’d fucked up again!

“I’ll call you!” Dick shouted, Tim gave him a two finger salute and grin as the elevator door shut between them.

Dick nearly slammed his door shut, stopping at the last second he didn’t wanna make anymore noise that would annoy his neighbours.

He slid down the door and put his head in his hands, scrunching his eyes shut and willing himself not to cry.

Sorry for any weird sentences and grammatical errors, I wanted to get this out before I move since It might of taken a while to get too so I didn't get around to prof reading it!

[your-dietician]

Entertainment heat wave is coming this summer: What to watch for | Entertainment

New Post has been published on https://tattlepress.com/entertainment/entertainment-heat-wave-is-coming-this-summer-what-to-watch-for-entertainment/

Entertainment heat wave is coming this summer: What to watch for | Entertainment

Remember 2019, when hot girl summer became a motto for living with confidence?

Well, with life getting closer to normal and vaccines nudging the pandemic into — fingers crossed — the rear-view mirror, 2021’s entertainment calendar for the next few months has a similar mood.

Call it a hot everything summer.

Blockbuster movies are returning to theaters. Live concerts are set to resume. Television and streaming shows are back to being a nice part of the mix, not a sole entertainment lifeline. And with travel heating up again, beach books can actually be read on a faraway beach.

To navigate this soaring heat index for fun, here is a list of recommendations that are sunny, breezy, steaming and sizzling. You get the idea.

Hot Jeff Daniels summer

Michigan’s resident acting great always keeps it real — remember his plaid dad shirt at February’s virtual Golden Globes? His latest project evokes his home state’s ethos of blue-collar endurance. “American Rust,” a nine-episode series premiering Sept. 12 on Showtime, stars Daniels as the police chief of a Rust-Belt Pennsylvania town who is feeling “ticked off and kind of jumpy” when a murder investigation tests his loyalties. If the preview looks a bit like HBO’s gritty “Mare of Easttown,” that’s a very good thing.

Hot goofy summer

In real life, metro Detroit native Tim Robinson could be a calm, collected guy. But as a sketch comedian, he’s made an art form out of wildly overreacting to life’s little embarrassments. “I Think You Should Leave,” his mini-masterpiece Netflix show, is back July 6 with a second season. Besides brilliantly making himself the butt of the jokes, Robinson always remembers his hometown friends. Let’s hope for repeat appearances by his pals like “Detroiters” co-star Sam Richardson and Troy’s own Oscar nominee, Steven Yeun.

Hot retro Motor City summer

The Detroit of the mid-1950s comes alive in director Steven Soderbergh’s “No Sudden Move,” available July 1 on HBO Max. The crime drama starring Don Cheadle, David Harbour, Benicio del Toro, Jon Hamm and more is about some low-level criminals given a simple assignment that draws them into a mystery that stretches to the heights of the automotive industry’s power structure. The film was shot last year in Detroit under strict COVID-19 safety measures, because Soderbergh, who filmed 1998’s “Out of Sight” here, would accept no other city as a substitute.

Hot road trip summer

Six years ago, a young waitress from Detroit created a viral Twitter thread about a bizarre journey she took to Florida with a new friend to do some freelance stripping. It was as compelling as a novel and as vivid as a movie. Cut to June 30 when “Zola” hits theaters starring Taylour Page and Riley Keough. It’s a comedy and a thriller that defies expectations and makes J-Lo’s “Hustlers” seem mild. Director Janicza Bravo and screenplay co-writer Jeremy O. Harris have created a raunchy adventure that still respects A’Ziah (Zola) King as a strong woman and original writing voice.

Hot action dad summer

Yes, Matt Damon is now old enough to play a Liam Neeson-esque outraged father out for justice. In “Stillwater,” Damon is a worker for an Oklahoma oil rig who must travel to France to try and clear his daughter (Abigail Breslin) of murder charges. Think “Taken,” if it were a serious drama directed and co-written by Tom McCarthy of “Spotlight” fame. It comes out July 30, just in time to make Damon’s fans from his “Good Will Hunting” days feel ancient.

Hot reboot summer

It has been almost a decade since “Gossip Girl” ended its run, which is way too long to be without fashion tips from impossibly beautiful rich kids. The newly reimagined “Gossip Girl” on HBO Max arrives July 8 with some notable improvements, like the inclusiveness of its cast of newcomers. But it’s bringing back the original narrator, Kristen Bell (who grew up in Huntington Woods), as the voice of the title character with the hidden identity.

Hot sweating summer

Sweating is a bodily function, but what exactly is it all about? “The Joy of Sweat: The Strange Science of Perspiration,” out July 13, will explore the biology, history and marketing behind the moisture that makes us glow (to use a polite term). It covers everything from the role of stress in sweat to deodorant research that involves people who can sniff out, literally, the effectiveness of a product. Since the New York Times recommended the book as one of its 24 summer reads, you know that author Sarah Everts did sweat the details.

Hot Olympic star summer

The 2021 Tokyo Games, which run July 23-Aug. 8, will feature the world’s best gymnast, Simone Biles. She still enjoys competing, but quarantining gave her some time to improve her work-life balance, as she told Glamour for its June cover story (which comes with a dazzling photo spread of Biles). “Before I would only focus on the gym. But me being happy outside the gym is just as important as me being happy and doing well in the gym. Now it’s like everything’s coming together.” For the 24-year-old GOAT, the sky — or, maybe, gravity — is the limit.

Hot variety show summer

“What percentage of white women do you hate? And there is a right answer.” That was among the questions posed by internet sensation Ziwe to her first guest, Fran Lebowitz, on the current Showtime series that carries her name. Combining interviews, sketches and music, “Ziwe” deploys comedy to illuminate America’s awkwardness on issues of race and politics. The results are hilarious, so find out about Ziwe now before her next project arrives, a scam-themed comedy for Amazon called “The Nigerian Princess.”

Hot ice road summer

Take the driving skills of the reality series “Ice Road Truckers” and add one stoic dose of Liam Neeson and you’ve got “The Ice Road,” which premiered Friday on Hulu. The adventure flick involves a collapse in a diamond mine, the miners trapped inside and the man (Neeson) who’s willing to steer his ginormous rig over frozen water to attempt a rescue mission. Crank up the AC temporarily!

Hot kindness summer

There is a better way to be a human being, and he shares a name with an Apple TV+ series. “Ted Lasso,” the fish-out-of-water sitcom about an American football coach (Jason Sudeikis) who’s drafted to lead a British soccer team returns for a second season on July 23 —the date that Lasso fans will resume their efforts to be more empathetic and encouraging, just like Ted. Only there’s a new sports psychologist for AFC Richmond who seems impervious to Ted’s charms and home-baked biscuits. She doesn’t like Ted? We’re gobsmacked!

Hot podcast summer

When Michael Che guested on “Jimmy Kimmel Live” recently, his segment was interrupted repeatedly by Dave Chappelle, who kept plugging his “The Midnight Miracle” podcast available on Luminary. What Chappelle was selling is worth the listening. “The Midnight Miracle” brings him together with his co-hosts, Talib Kweli and Yasiin Bey, and his famous friends from the comedy world and beyond for funny and though-provoking conversations interspersed with music. If you were a fly on the wall of Chappelle’s home, this is what you might hear.

Hot series finale summer

The last 10 episodes of “Brooklyn Nine-Nine” start airing Aug. 12 on NBC, a too-short goodbye to one of the most underrated comedies in TV history. You can give all the glory to “The Office,” but the detectives of the Nine-Nine could go toe to toe with Dunder-Mifflin’s Scranton branch in terms of quirkiness, humanity and office romances and bromances. It’s hard to pick a favorite dynamic among the characters, but the irritated father-incorrigible son vibes between Captain Holt (Andre Braugher) and Det. Jake Peralta (Andy Samberg) are sublime.

Hot musical comedy summer

Keegan-Michael Key and “Saturday Night Live’s” Cecily Strong lead a star-studded cast in “Schmigadoon!,” an AppleTV+ series premiering July 16 that magically transports a backpacking couple to a land of 1940s musicals. Until Broadway reopens in September, this parody love letter to the power of musical theater should do nicely. And the premiere episode’s song “Corn Pudding”? Catchy!

Hot nostalgia tour

Hall & Oates are criss-crossing the nation with enough 1980s hits —”Maneater,” “Kiss on My List,” “I Can’t Go for That,” “You Make My Dreams Come True,” etc. — to make you want to trade your mom jeans for spandex leggings. As if they weren’t enough top-40 goodness, their opening acts are Squeeze, still pouring a cup of “Black Coffee in Bed” all these years later, and K.T. Tunstall, whose “Suddenly I See” is immortalized as the anthem of “The Devil Wears Prada.”

Hot all-female, all-Muslim punk band summer

A British import now airing on the NBC streaming spinoff Peacock, “We Are Lady Parts” would be notable alone for defying stereotypes about Muslim women. But this sitcom about an all-female, all-Muslim aspiring rock band is a gem of both representation and laughs, thanks to characters like Amina, a shy doctoral candidate in microbiology whose complaints about a guy she calls “Bashir with the good beard” inspires a song.

Hot documentary summer

While Woodstock has become synonymous with epic music gatherings, the Harlem Cultural Festival of 1969 is finally about to get the pop-culture recognition it deserves. “Summer of Soul: (…Or, When The Revolution Could Not Be Televised),” directed by the Roots drummer Questlove, will hit theaters and Hulu on July 2. It chronicles a mostly forgotten event that drew superstars like Stevie Wonder, Nina Simone, the Fifth Dimension, Sly & the Family Stone and B.B. King. Using his vast knowledge of music, archival footage and interviews with performers and those who attended, Questlove has created a history lesson that’s also the best concert you’ve never seen before.

Hot Marvel summer

Once you’re all caught up with the summer streaming sensation “Loki” on Disney+, please turn your attention to two new films. “Black Widow,” the long-awaited star turn for Scarlett Johansson’s former KGB assassin Natasha Romanoff, makes its debut July 9. It’s followed by “Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings,” set for Sept. 3 and starring Simu Liu (“Kim’s Convenience”) as the martial arts master of the title. All brought to you by the corporate global entertainment domination machine that is Marvel.

Hot biopic summer

“Respect,” starring Jennifer Hudson, arrives Aug. 13 at theaters, nearly three years to the day the world lost the Queen of Soul. Although Cynthia Erivo gave a fine performance earlier this year as Franklin in “Genius: Aretha” on the National Geographic network, the odds are good that Hudson, chosen by Franklin herself for the part, will be the definitive screen Aretha.

Hot fiction summer

Terry McMillan calls “The Other Black Girl” essential reading. Entertainment Weekly describes it as “‘The Devil Wears Prada’ meets ‘Get Out,’ with a little bit of ‘Black Mirror’ thrown in.” This debut novel by Zakiya Dalila Harris mixes office politics with suspense in its story of Nella Rogers, an editorial assistant who’s the only Black staffer at a noted publishing company. When Hazel, a new Black employee, is hired, things seem to be improving. But then Nella starts receiving ominous unsigned notes. Sounds like yet another reason to keep working from home.

Hot slow dance summer

After nearly four months on Billboard’s Hot 100 chart, “Leave the Door Open” remains the song most likely to provoke a quiet storm on the dance floor. The hit single from Silk Sonic (aka Bruno Mars and Anderson .Paak) may sound like a cover of a long-lost ‘70s classic R&B tune, but it’s a contemporary song that can make you forget the humidity long enough for “kissing, cuddling, rose petals in the bathtub, girl, lets jump in.”

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Flight Risk, A Reactionary Post

Someone to look forward to on a dark day

Major Crimes, S3xE1: Episode Review

What this episode is about: The Coyote and the Road Runner Paper Plates The Team's Emotional State Money Bags Taylor Provenza: Coming out Swinging Julio is Emotional AF Sharon's Ethical Dilemma It's the Little Things... Subverting a Trope: Provenza, Mike & Andy Amy's Boots Sharon & Andy: A Unit Sharon/Andy & Provenza The Beginning of Love: Keeping Your Personal Life a Mystery Cynthia Logan & Tim Rusty and his Mystery Personal Event Amy & her Mystery Date Sharon & Andy: A Declaration and a Relationship in influx

The Coyote and Road Runner Love the way the beginning is shot. In which the show allows us to know about a family of victims without showing us any of the family. Seeing a house frozen in time. It's dark, it's depressing and it really sets the tone for the episode. The whole thing is simple, simplistic, it's not flashy and it gives us a ton of information all without a single character opening their mouths. Each season has to start off with a heavier episode and this one goes really dark for MC. 

I love how they use the cartoon Road Runner. A kids show in rather simplistic terms about a bird being chased by a coyote who wants to eat him. It's a rather iconic kids cartoon and having it on in the background really lets us know that what ever happened to these kids they were in the middle of breakfast. The scene ends with this shot...

Which is really kind of creepy and gives a nice visual juxtaposition between this image along side a children's table and a giant pencil. While also telling us that an unknown person (the coyote) is after the children (road runner). It's subtle and kind of brilliant.

Paper Plates

Excuse me but how in the hell can you tell those are paper plates? That image is blurry AF.

The Team’s Emotional State

Money Bags Taylor "Cleaning up Blood from your own house. Not a crime."

Taylor starts off the episode ranting about the resources being expended on this case because they don't have a definite victim yet. All of the signs point to a horrible murder but for Taylor that just isn't enough. The squad of course is irritated with Taylor and his behavior. They show it off in different ways. Mike is rather analytical about it. Giving him evidence - like pointing the amount of blood they found. Provenza is viably irritated the entire time Taylor is talking. He points out the missing father and that he's a pilot. Lastly, we have Andy (rather angerly) who says they should be actively looking for the children. All the while Taylor shoot each one of the down.

Provenza: Coming out swinging "Two dead kids stuffed into suit cases. Sound bad enough to justify some overtime?" When it comes down to it Provenza always uses humor to mask his internal feelings. I also love how this is a dig at Taylor and him not thinking that this case was such a priority. 

"This happened while she was gone for a reason." Once they find out that the blood in the daughters room is the father's. Provenza blurts out that, that doesn't mean that the wife was the killer. And he's right it's not but it is highly suspicious. Interestingly, Taylor has some real insight and backs up Sharon about not not telling her about the murders. Taylor is also right here - there's a reason why it happened without her being there but it's not the reason that any of them originally think.

Julio is emotional AF Julio gets really emotional during this case. It's really the beginning of his quest to become a dad and how much he feels for children victims. If Julio wasn't held back he'd pummel the shit out of the killer at the end of the episode.

Sharon's ethical dilemma Sharon has fantastic instincts on people. Most of the time she's spot on sometimes not so much. As a former IA investigator she can really spot when someone is holding things back. And she was right about the mother hiding something hugely significant. When Sharon confronts her, the mother thinks it's rather insignificant but as it turns out it's what drove the killer in the murders. Sharon also has some emotional breaking here and loses some of her temper that she's so very known for holding in check.

It's the little things...

Sometimes it's actions of the characters that stand out when their subtle and the episode doesn't bring a lot of attention to them. Rather the stuff that's hidden in the background. For instance there's this moment in electronics when someone (probably Provenza) puts their coffee down on some equipment in the room. Buzz gets takes the coffee off the equipment and moves it. Andy sees this and shakes his head in irritation at Buzz being so picky. All the while without saying a damn word or really giving the moment all that much focus. It's a nice moment that's light without breaking the depressing tone of the episode. 

Moments like these are really great because their hidden and we don't really think about them too much. They also give us nice character moments without being too loud and shows us the talent of our ensemble and just how well they work. 

Subverting a Trope: Provenza, Mike & Andy

Typically in film land we see two women gossiping/snooping about their coworkers sex/romance lives. Instead we have three men snooping about their coworkers romance. I love this little subversion. Generally Mike is an active participant. He's usually the character most interested in the other character's romances. Here snooping with Andy and Provenza about Amy's romance and later on him being positively giddy over Sharon & Andy's engagement. This is another little things moment. In which we don't see Provenza, Andy or Mike utter one word about it. It's all through body language and the action of the characters. 

Amy's Boots I also love the whole bit with Amy's boots. Both Sharon and Andy take notice of her odd state of dress. She's got that formal dress along with some very casual combat boots. The boots are not your typical foot wear and I really love that they had her wear those instead of something she'd normally wear to work. It's like that's all she had in her car or locker because her date shoes were killing her feet and she didn't have time to go home and change.

Sharon & Andy: A Unit Sharon & Andy officially become Sharon/Andy From the beginning Sharon and Andy are a unified team. They are in sync and of the same mind on the case and how to treat the mother. Their skeptical and rather careful on what sort of information they give her. While the rest of the squad is out hunting for the children and other evidence. Andy is with Sharon during every aspect of the case.

Sharon/Andy & Provenza "I agree with the Captain." "What a shock." It's really becoming apparent that Sharon & Andy are merging into a unified pair. With Provenza (at times) being the odd man out. Beginning with the second episode of the series and at times continuing until even now. Provenza has a different perspective than Sharon and is never afraid to voice his opinion. We've seen that with the deal making process, with Rusty and his third option and here with telling the mother about finding the children.

Through out the two years they have been working together. Andy has really come to understand Sharon's mind and the way it works. He's really come to trust her instincts on people and brings up valid points when Provenza thinks Andy is just thinking with his penis. To both Sharon and Andy, Mrs Logan is still a person of interest and if she ends up not being the killer then they risking gaining valuable information from her.

The Beginning of Love: Keeping your personal life a mystery

Cynthia Logan & Tim "Didn't see that one coming."

Mrs Logan is a career professional who keeps things very close to the chest. She didn't even confide in her sister about the problems she was having with her husband. Much the same way that Rusty, Amy and Sharon do with their personal issues. And once we find out that Mrs Logan had been having an affair with her cousin who was also the father of her youngest child.That certainly turns the tables. And just like Taylor I never could have guessed that this was the secret that she'd been keeping. Yeah her having an affair, and her marriage not being as rosy as it she made it out to be was more than obvious but who she had an affair with. Yeah. didn't expect that. 

As soon as Tim is interviewed by Provenza and Amy it's more than obvious they are dealing with an unstable personality. He's fixated on Mrs Logan and tells Provenza and Amy that he did the 'right thing' by telling Ben about his affair with his Cynthia. And then he blames the children's murders on Ben because he moved to protect Ellie from Tim's murder spree. Which suggests to me that Ben knew that Tim was the girls father. As he probably thought that Tim wouldn't murder him if he had escaped in Ellies room.

Rusty and his Mystery Personal Event Rusty brings Provenza into his storyline about something that's going on. He words it in a way that makes it sound like he wants to talk to Provenza about his sexuality. Especially with the episode dealing with Romance so heavily. He's kind of thrown for a loop here and not quite sure what to think or say to him. So he feigns being too busy to talk to him over it. 

"I'm a homicide detective. You think I don't already know what this is about." "My mom showed back up." "No buts, You promised and you can not tell Sharon. The End." 

This is the face of a man not shocked.

Rusty thinks he's going to get off here without telling Sharon about Sharon coming back. And I missed that little smart alecky "The End".

"I won't because your going to tell her yourself." But wise Provenza knows all of the kid's tricks and makes Rusty do it himself. Unlike the shitty father figure of Jack Raydor who would have helped Rusty hid Sharon Beck. And interestingly here as much as Provenza fought it he makes Rusty a deal. Also hearing Provenza be so honest with Rusty and tell him he doesn't feel good about Sharon Beck. Rusty has gotten to the point here where he's not going to run away with Sharon B. And he's also matured to the point where when someone is straight with them he's going to listen. 

"That other thing you think you know. I am not ready to talk about that at all." Rusty gives Provenza a dose of honesty here. It's seems that Provenza is not the only one not ready to talk about Rusty's sexuality. Certainly hinting that it will be dealt with later on down the road.

"Love can go back and forth." "And from what I've seen being a mom can be pretty tricky too." From Rusty's comments and Sharon noticing a toothbrush in Rusty's bag. It really sounds like Rusty's got a romance going on but of course we know later on that that's not true. Knowing what's going on in Rusty's personal life right now that line about being a mother really stands out. 

Sharon of course is noisy and whats to know what's going on with him but she won't ask him outright. In the early years here she does her best to try not to pry information out of him. But rather have him come to her about what's going on and her try to piece things together. Or she tries to go about it in an alternative way. That's why she tells him he'll be on his own for dinner. And when she gets nothing out of him with that she tries again asking him if there's anything he needs to talk about. He isn't quite ready to talk to her about it so she lets it sit until he comes to her. 

Gotta love the deer in the headlights look she gives him after she takes a second look at the toothbrush in his bag.

"Love is tricky. You think you know someone and very suddenly you don't." I love this line here. Sharon speaking about her experiences in her marriage.

Amy & her Mystery Date "A little light on a dark day."

I really love how they choose to shoot Rusty holding Amy's flowers right in front of his face. Seriously who holds flowers like that? I mean I get that there meant to show us that their HUGE. And it's kind of funny seeing someone's face being blocked like that. I love that as soon as Rusty announces that their for Amy. Both Mike and Andy start drooling over her card.

Sharon & Andy: A Declaration and a Relationship influx At the end of the episode we get a really wonderfully amazing scene between Sharon and Andy. Seeing how much this case has drained Sharon so emotionally with her holding back on revealing the murders to Cynthia. Andy offers to tell Cynthia for her. 

I've seen this episode many times and I never noticed Andy outright staring at Sharon. At this point in the series, Andy staring at Sharon and quietly assessing her emotional state is not something new. But it's certainly something to take note of here. 

"Why don't I do this notification." One of the best things about the Sharon and Andy relationship is how emotionally supportive they are to one another. This is the very first time that Andy tries to take some emotional burden off her shoulders. But Sharon who is Sharon won't let him. Sharon has felt such guilt for not telling Cynthia but to her because she made the decision she's the one who's going to have to accept responsibility. And Sharon is and will always accept the responsibility of her actions. No matter how painful they may be to her. 

Even though it's very short this feels like the first real intimate conversation between these two. And I really wish we had more of that. 

"I'll wait, case you need me." Provenza thought that this whole time Andy was thinking with his penis but in this case Andy is thinking with his heart. Andy can't talk Sharon out of telling Cynthia herself but he can offer her further emotional support. Which he does. We saw a very similar scene between the two of them in "Poster Boy" when Sharon doesn't end up talking Brandon down from killing himself. In that scene Andy gives Sharon a huge dose of positivity and reassures her that she did the right thing. Which is exactly what he does here. She made the right choice even though that choice had consequences that hurt everyone. And sometimes the right choice isn't the easiest. It wasn't then and it isn't now. But there is a difference here. 

He's moved from someone she can look to in knowing that she did the right thing. To someone who has now become an emotional partner for her. Someone she can rely on to pick herself up after after the dust settles in any given situation. This is something so completely new for her. Sharon has been married for roughly 30 years and in that time she's never been able to lean on her husband for any kind of support. Whether it was financial, parental or emotional. She's always shouldered the responsibilities that life brought her and soly relayed on herself. 

Another thing to note is the actual words he uses. 

"I'll wait..." This is some heavy foreshadowing here in which Andy waits for Sharon to be emotionally ready to enter a romantic relationship with him. And boy does he wait a really long time but it's more than worth it to him. The guy is the least patient person in the world ends up becoming the most patient when it comes to his relationship with Sharon. Really makes me think about Mike's marriage advice to Brenda. That the most important thing in a relationship is patience. It's played a bit for laughs but in Sharon and Andy's case. They wouldn't have a romantic relationship without it. 

"I'll wait, case you need me." Their heartwarming and touching but there's a lot more in those words. Andy is essentially telling Sharon that he loves her without actually saying the words. And really maybe without him being aware of it himself. It's not a coincidence that the two keep repeating this line and variations of it to the other. If you look at Andy's behavior throughout this episode it really suggests to me that he's already fallen for her. Although he may not realize it just yet.

What I don't like: Really not a lot that I don't like about this episode. Maybe seeing the team more in the field with this case. Would have loved to have seen Andy comforting Sharon after she tells Cynthia about her children's murders. 

What I like: I really loved this episode. It's dark and depressing, a hard hitting case. So we see a lot of emotional moments for the majority of the characters. Each of the characters have a hard time dealing with this case and show that in their own way. Mike backs most of his emotions with evidence. Andy back's Sharon's instincts. Julio almost falls apart emotionally over the case. Provenza fights with both Taylor and Sharon on how to proceed with the case. And Sharon wrestles with her decision to not tell Mrs Logan about her murdered children. It's a really well written, directed and acted episode. A definite stand out. 

That has a lot of elements that work really well. Besides the emotionally hard hitting case we've got Sharon & Andy's relationship and their development into a unified team. Just the right amount of lightness surrounding Amy's mystery date for such a dark episode. Small scenes that really showcase the wonderful ensemble and their fantastic chemistry. Two unexpected surprises that really throw you for a loop.

This is the kind of episode that should start off a season.