#his attachment to these items like its a security blanket must be studied
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ratatatastic · 4 months ago
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im sorry i love the timeline of this fucking hat that he wore it for two days (media day and the day of his signing) like a cartoon character
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yeah if youd like to know hes got our whole team including our merch team whipped for him
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remsmoonlight · 4 years ago
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— title : glitter in the sky
— word count : 2.3 k words
— pairing : loki x reader
— summary : before putting into place his plan for thor’s coronation, he seeks you out one more time for comfort only you can provide
— warnings : maybe a teeeeeny bit of thor bashing but incredibly minor .. love ‘im fr , bit of sadness
         ✧・゚: *✧・゚:*  requested ? nope /   requests are open  *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
an: i got this idea, first from watching the first thor movie because aw, and then moving onto silent hill and that field scene is a whole vibe..... who doesn’t wanna just chill randomly in a field with the sun on your skin with no responsibilities? hell yeah .. anyways this just got away from me in a way ha
Trailing your gaze up to the sky, your eyes marvel at the merging colours as you study them intently, witnessing the blend of hues and tones from a bright blue to a mixture of warm pinks and burnt oranges light up the surrounding area before you knew they would fade into nothing more than a dark blanket who’s only source of light would be the moonlight and the stars that would litter it.
Your shoes crunching the dry grass and the sounds of chirping from the various wildlife encompasses you, it takes all of your strength to not allow a large grin to brighten your features.
Despite being so late in the afternoon, time walking on a fine line towards the early evening, the heat from the sun is still so strong, comfortably toasting your skin as a heavy blanket on a cold winter’s night would.
In the distance you’re able to spot the intimidating stature of the aged tree, though it’s intimidating in name only  ⎯  for now it holds only those memories that lay locked deep within your heart. Your situation is a rather unusual one. Many summer afternoons had been spent shielded from the harsh rays of sunlight that shone over everything it could touch, though they hadn’t been spent alone. Rather, they’d been spent with an exceedingly phenomenal man. Can he even be called that? You wonder to yourself, Loki was far from human. Far, far from it.
“ to think I had been of the belief you would not be appearing. “
The suddenness of the voice slicing through the noises of the concealed fields would have shocked you more had it not been so honeyed. Holding the recognisable smoothness that you only associated with Loki.
“ this is the first time I’ve ever been late, thank you very much. “ you answer with an unwavering nerve as you stare at him while amusement floods your expression.
“ and the last, I’m sure? “ an eyebrow raises as he questions you, a warmth brightening his aura against the coolness he exudes normally.
Believing he’s not of Earth had been hard for you to grip, to believe fully, no matter how many tricks he could conjure before your very eyes. Though disappearing right before you, then feeling the whisper of his breath dance on the back of your neck so gracefully had been the confirmation you required. From there on a friendship blossomed into something more, you both becoming more and more involved with the other. Holding such unbelievable secrets were not a common place for you, to have this continues to make you feel like such a special soul.
“ oh, shut up! “
You stroll towards him, closing the distance with an enthusiastic energy that not even the longest of days could wear you down. Nothing in the world makes you feel so secure and guarded than when you finally feel the weight of his arms snake around you to bring you forward into his embrace. For Loki, you are a home away from home. Never do you gaze upon him with untrustful eyes, nor do you view him as beneath you, many negative connotations are attached to his name and you? You simply see him for who he wishes he could be, only ever in your presence does he try not to disappoint you. Back on Asgard that’s all anyone ever expects, so why not play into their prejudices? It has protected him so far, though the thought that perhaps even that has done more harm than good tresspasses into his mind on a rare occasion.
It’s not something he wishes to think about there though. He wants to dedicate his short visit to you entirely. Pushing away the increasingly regular thought it’s just a heartbeat, he is not one to be naive to pretend. Illusions are second nature to him, to forge them as easily to breathe, but to experience them are something that is in his power to prevent. He could allow this one instance to be selfish.
“ might I inquire of your wellbeing since we parted last? “ he requests as fingers entwine with yours to guide you to the slight hollow space within the tree. You drop yourself without any elegance to the ground, he settles behind you with his legs on either side of yours.
You can’t help but marvel at the differences between the two of you, like night and day. However, your differences fit like a puzzle with no inconvenience.
“ life keeps trying to test my patience, same as ever but ⎯ “ you pause, your eyes shining with remembrance of the gift you had brought, of course you knew it’s nothing more than a silly little trinket but you couldn’t help but fall in love with it. “ here, my friend’s been making these pieces for their business and I couldn’t help but think of you. “
Adoration is the only thing that overwhelms him in this moment, it’s a feeling he wants to lock away to relive over and over, for the only time he has never been treated as an afterthought is by his mother. Now? It’s a feeling that hasn’t been forged by a bond born of blood, but one that has arisen naturally. The item in your hand is a small metal band, with designs etched onto its body.
“ it’s only a little thing I know ⎯ “ you begin to babble, the words tumbling before you could even stop them. Your mind losing all control over your language before Loki put a stop to it.
“ I’ll have you know it’s not the physical item itself, but the sentiment behind it I hold dear. “
You want to respond with equally sweet words, but the heavy tone doesn’t go undiscovered by your ears.
“ Loki, what’s wrong? “
“ nothing, why do you ask? “ the God denies, switching the questioning to you.
Turning to face him, your eyes scout all over his features to spot anything that would give you cause to continue on with your concern. It’s light, the ghost of sorrow concealed behind a curtain of confidence and ego, even the most professional of liars can’t hide the truth of that. The hurt cuts too deep for a flimsy pretense of everything being perfect for it to bury those feelings.
“ you’re an amazing liar, but I’m beginning to get the hang of you. Besides, sadness is something difficult to completely hide. “
A heavy breath is released, your fingers from their position on his shoulders feel as if there’s an invisible weight that has almost decreased. You wonder how long he has carried this with him.
“ tell me. “
Every fibre of Loki’s being is fighting to keep his feelings kept away out of sight, to imagine they never manifested themselves into reality, but locked into place by the profound compassion swirling in your eyes he wants to finally divulge everything in his mind that has been plaguing him. Who knew a mortal could have such an enchanting effect he thought humourfully to himself.
“ the deadline for a successor to my father’s throne is approaching. “
“ and you’re worried? “ your brows lower, confusion marking your features as you struggle to understand why that could be so bad?
“ I've veiled many things from you, a fault of mine I understand completely. “ he admits, a sorrowful smile gracing his lips.
“ it’s never too late to share them. It might help you feel better? “
Loki wonders just what it is he has done in his history to be blessed with such an understanding and caring soul as yours, nothing could ease the lasting effects of each and every of his transgressions over his many years of living. How exactly could such radiance and light find the dark Prince of Asgard so easily? Many who lived in his realm would argue that he’s not deserving, instead countering that his brother should be in such a position of happiness.
He simply gazes upon you before speaking, a slender finger raising to tuck a few stray hairs behind your ear.
“ the successor has already been chosen, they always have been. This is a mere formality. “ switching his sight from you to the environment around you both, turning to look upon the steadily darkening sky.
“ so why do it then? “
“ to ensure that the process is seen as fair, despite the favour repeatedly falling to my brother. “
Nodding in understanding, you finally realise why there is a darkness that swirls over his head now he speaks of the topic. Living in the shadow of the golden child is not easy, your heart hurts as you realise that there must be many people who do not see the same man who you see. They see audacity instead of a daringness, to mistake him for an egotistical know it all instead of someone who has a thirst for knowledge and tricks.
“ never did they wish to stop viewing me as a troublesome child, I suppose I never aided in changing that. “
Nothing falls from your lips, knowing no words could do justice for what you need him to know, to feel. Twisting yourself onto your knees, you lean forward and allow your arms to provide him comfort as they surround his neck. One hand raises to rest in the dense raven locks of hair you constantly marvel over, moving ever so softly to trace patterns.
“ I’m sorry. “ you mumble softly, wanting to say more, but you can’t help but resign yourself to being unable to say anything meaningful. Instead, figuring it would be better, first, for him to speak his emotions without looking for any advice.
“ you’ve nothing to apologise for. The pieces will fall as they should. “ he comforts, whining to himself over the absence of your warmth as you withdraw the embrace.
“ Loki, what do you mean by that? “
“ nothing for you to worry yourself over, my dove. “ he shakes his head, as a chuckle that is short accompanies it, contains little genuine amusement to settle you.
“ I’m being serious, what are you talking about? “ your demand is light in touch, though your gaze holds an unrelenting strength as he looks towards you once more.
“ again, nothing that requires your concern. Midgardians, you worry too much. “
“ over things that can get the people we love into trouble, of course. “
His heart pauses in beating as the words seep into his mind, realising exactly what you spoke. Briefly, does he wonder if he misheard you, thought deep down he knows what you spoke.
“ did you ⎯ ? “ an unrecognisable vulnerability crosses his expression as he begins to ask what you had said, to hear it again as if for the first time.
A reddening of you cheeks can be seen, you look down with a sheepish grin. This had not been the way you had imagined using the love word. Of course, over the years of your life many things had not gone to plan, so this was just another instance in a long, long line of events that just got away from you. While you know there is something mutual, you can’t bring yourself to look upon him just yet.
“ you heard me correctly. “
Elation swells within him, even the thought of perhaps you would prefer Thor had you met him first could not creep more than a few feet before being banished from sight and mind, it’s not something he wants to entertain. Especially for what he has in mind to plan for the future. Instead, he allows himself to be engulfed in your love, to experience the last piece of goodness that has been reserved for him, knowing it won’t last.
All you feel from your dropped gaze is your nose being nudged by his, then the weight of his lips on your own. Moving together as if they are fighting to mould into one, fitting together so well. Both of you are left breathless, momentarily caught in the feeling of the other that oxygen is the last thing on your mind.
“ do not trouble yourself over events that have not come to pass yet. Especially on an evening as fine as this. “
The corner of your lips tilt higher as your turn away from him to peer over the surroundings you had briefly forgotten. The burnt colours had long since faded into darkness, the stars being the only light as they can only be likened to being glitter in the night’s sky. A true beauty.
“ I love nights like these, where you can see all of the stars. “
“ you’d be besotted with Asgard’s constellations. “
You’d settled back into the position you were in previously, with arms encompassing you protectively with your back secured firmly to his chest. Loki explains the beauty of Asgard, and how even in the day the stars can still be seen against the shining vividness of the colours of their sky. Quarrelling against the gold hues from both the sun and the palace he knows only as his home.
“ that sounds wonderful. “ you whisper, feeling fatigue sneaking its way to the forefront of your mind.
“ it truly is a beauty to see. “ agreeing with you, resting his head upon yours. Wishing nothing more than to be able to stay there in that moment forever.
“ I wish I could see it. I’m very jealous right now. “
He can feel you becoming increasingly drowsy, flattered that you would even let your guard enough to even allow sleep to touch you. Having you on Asgard would certainly make him a happier person, to have someone who isn’t his mother understand him would be freeing. Though his father would die before he allowed that to happen, a mortal on Asgard.
“ Perhaps one day. “
Loki can’t be sure if you even heard that, but it’s something he wants to entertain. Besides, what is the use of being a master of mischief and tricks if he couldn’t make such a desire come true?
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violetsmoak · 5 years ago
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Pieces of April [17/?]
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: Daily check-in to see how you're holding up under social distancing, and a reminder that in addition to washing your hands and stay inside, don't snack too much, drink at least 8 cups of water and take a shower! You'd be surprised how easy it is to stop doing a lot of the basics when you're in isolation for a while! Hang in there, people!
First Chapter
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Six o’clock is an ungodly hour in the morning to be awake and Jason honestly doesn’t know how people do it. The hours between four and eleven in the morning are the only time he has a chance to rest, and now that’s been co-opted by the squawking creature in his arms.
He can’t imagine how the non-vigilante population finds it any easier.
And then there’s Tim.
Who voluntarily gets up at this time every morning to go play Wayne Poster Child™ after a night of knocking heads in the city.
There was a reason Bruce never let Jason patrol on a school night, and it wasn’t just because of the potential for unexplained bruises, and yet here’s little Timmy, off to run a multibillion-dollar company while existing on coffee grounds and stubbornness.
And the dumbass keeps offering to give up more sleep to take care of Jason’s kid.
How has he not fallen off a building yet?
Luisa’s gluttonous grunting brings Jason’s thoughts back to the present. She’s finally started to attack her bottles with gusto, as if it’s finally occurred to her that, “Hey, weird rubber thing in my mouth equals food”.
Jason’s grateful for that, too; not that he’s going to admit he was starting to worry there was something wrong with her.
It’s not that he’s trying to be heartless or anything, but there’s a fine line between being concerned and getting attached. And there is a mess of reasons why he can’t afford to do that. If Tim’s dopey insistence to help out is any indication, he’s already starting down that dangerous road.
Eventually, Luisa releases the nipple, and Jason maneuvers her around to burp her, only to hear a tiny, gurgling cough, which is then followed by warm wetness spilling down his shoulder—at the exact moment that Tim walks into the kitchen.
“Looks like she has a complaint about the chef,” he remarks, mouth twisted into a smirk.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jason mutters, holding the now vomit-covered baby as far out in front of him as he can do while keeping her head steady. He tries not to grimace at the stain spreading across his back; he’s probably been covered with worse, but that doesn’t make it any less unpleasant.
“That’s why you’re supposed to put a towel over your shoulder.”
“I know!” Jason snaps. “I forgot.”
Tim holds his hands out for the baby. “Go change.”
“I need to clean her up first.”
“You’re not sitting on my sofa covered in puke.”
“Who says I was going to sit on your sofa?” Jason challenges, even though that's exactly where he was going. He’s sort of co-opted that whole area into the downstairs changing station.
The sour-sweet smell of vomit makes the decision for him, however, and he passes Luisa over to Tim, who’s already got a washcloth in hand to dab at the mess. While Jason heads upstairs, he brings her over to that same makeshift changing station and starts to undo her soiled onesie.
The last thing Jason hears as he closes the door to his room is, “Ugh, he was right. That doesn’t look human.”
Jason snorts, glad he’s not the only one that has to suffer through mysterious bodily fluids.
He considers the merits of showering now, weighing the need to be clean versus the probability of ending up dirty again anyway in an hour or so and then decides to just wipe himself down with a wet cloth before putting on a new shirt.
Digging around in the duffel bag, he accidentally knocks down the jacket he threw haphazardly on the loveseat. The inner pocket gapes, allowing several items to fall out, including the Red Hood plush toy and the sonogram from Isabel’s fridge.
He grabbed them both on a whim before leaving the apartment, but he can’t quite recall the logic or reasoning behind that. Isabel’s email and its implications had taken up most of his brainpower at that point. The trained detective part of Jason tells him he wanted evidence, but he’s not entirely sure of evidence of what.
He picks the items up now, frowning at their existence, and then abruptly shoves them both into one of the dresser drawers.
It’s too early for soul-searching.
When he comes back downstairs, it’s to Tim just wrestling a grump baby into a white onesie. Even standing at the foot of the stairs, Jason notices that it contrasts very obviously with Luisa’s skin.
“I was right,” he says, “she’s definitely turning yellow.”
Luisa cracks an eye open at the sudden sound of his voice, and beyond the startling blue iris, he notes that her sclera is also off-color. “Look, even the whites of her eyes are going yellow.”
Tim studies her, and nods. “Yeah, she is a little jaundiced.”
“So do we take her to the doctor for this, or what? I mean, does she have yellow fever or something?”
“Yellow fever has an incubation period of three to six days,” Tim replies. “Since she hasn’t been alive that long and hasn’t had a chance to be exposed to anything like that, I doubt that’s what it is.”
Jason gives him a look. “How the hell do you know this shit?”
“An eco-fascist cell tried to contaminate Gotham’s water supply with a strain of it last year.”
“It’s always the water supply with these people,” Jason mumbles. “You’d think the city would invest in better security down there. Batman’s not always going to be there to stop it.”
“Batgirl, actually,” Tim replies. “Singlehandedly. Steph was very proud.”
“I’m sure.” Jason frowns again at the vaguely yellow baby, telling himself that if Tim isn’t worried, he shouldn’t be. Still, “You know, while we have her here, we should maybe wash off some of that white stuff."
“What? No. Did you forget? ‘Wet baby equals slippery baby’? Those were your words.”
“There are other ways to take a bath, moron,�� Jason retorts, examining the bulge above Luisa’s umbilical cord stump. He thinks he remembers Dr. Kerry saying it would fall off in a week or so, but to be honest, most of the night they picked her up from the hospital is a blur to him.
“Well, I’ll leave you to that then, because I have to get going,” Tim says, heading upstairs to transform himself from half-asleep slob to Timothy Drake-Wayne.
Jason tries not to balk at that; part of him was hoping Tim would offer to do that chore.
Bathing is different from feeding. With blankets around the kid, he doesn’t have to worry so much about bruising her skin by just touching her. And yes, he knows that babies don’t bruise that easily, but he’s so used to ruining everything he touches that this seems like a valid concern to him.
In the end, he just takes his time, not giving her a real bath from the tiny tub still packed up in the pile of baby things, but an approximation of the wipe down he gave himself earlier. Careful to keep her covered except to expose whatever arm or leg needs wiping off, he slides a cloth gently against her skin, noting she’s still got that weird white residue on her.
She makes squeaking grunts of complaint at the alien feeling, but it must not feel too bad because she doesn’t erupt into crying. He takes that has a win.
“Now that Her Highness has had her morning toilette,” Jason grouses as he nestles the lump of baby into her carrier.
Once Tim leaves, Jason spends the day at home much like he did the day before, scouring the apartment for anything readable that isn’t a gaming guide, taking apart his gear and putting it back together and grabbing quick naps between feedings and changings. It’s entirely possible he may be losing his mind, because how did his life become this?
I didn’t even stay this still when I was a kid. Is this what life is like for eighteen years when you have a kid?
There has to be more to the parenting gig than this.
Frustrated, he turns the television on, surfing the channels and wondering why there’s nothing worth watching on any of the thousand channels Tim has access to. Eventually, he lands on a local news channel which he keeps on just to have something making noise in the overly silent house.
He’s barely synthesizing the information until a special report comes on, the shaky camera capturing a car speeding through Crime Alley, windows rolled down to allow a gun to open fire.
“…only the latest in a series of violent incidents that have occurred just outside of the Bowery this week,” the woman on the screen is saying. “Officials believe these may be retaliation for the recent raiding of three businesses in the Bowery with connections to the Maroni crime family…”
“Then officials are stupid because anyone gunning for Maroni wouldn’t be takin' it out on him in Crime Alley,” Jason mutters. Especially since everyone in Gotham’s underworld knows the penalty for going anywhere near Hood territory.
“…just the latest in the continuing unrest in the neighborhood. Local police are still asking for information regarding the disappearance of teenagers LaRynn Davies and Carlton King, last seen leaving the schoolyard of PS 181. This has been Maria Amardosa, Gotham News—”
Jason jabs at the remote, switching the television off.
It doesn’t surprise him that crime’s up; April and May are when the weather starts to warm up, which means a lot of enterprising criminal organizations open back up for business. Even when he was Robin, Jason used to make a point of more heavily patrolling his neighborhood in the spring to discourage that sort of thing.
And now, it’s going on a week, and he hasn’t been out once. It’s bad enough having to leave matters when he’s out of town or off-planet, but in those cases, he can’t do anything about it.
“But now, I’m right freakin’ here, and sittin’ on my ass.”
Which is why when Tim gets home from work that night and gratefully accepts the stir-fry Jason whipped up more out of boredom than actual hunger, he decides to broach the subject.
“I’m goin' out to patrol tonight,” he informs him, half-defiant. “If I don’t put in an appearance along my usual route, people are gonna start gettin' ideas.”
More than they already are.
He expects protests or warnings, but to his surprise, Tim swallows a mouthful of rice and nods. “I’ll watch the baby while you’re out.”
All reasonable like, the way he’s been since he picked me up at the bar.
Jason tries not to feel like he’s being handled, and goes on in a guarded tone, “This isn’t me tryin' to dump her off on you and run. I’m not that big of an ass.”
“Debatable. But noted. It’s not a problem.”
“Are you sure? Because if you don’t want to, tell me.”
Tim fixes him with an exasperated look. “You’re really not used to people just…genuinely wanting to help you, are you?”
“Not generally, no,” Jason replies, folding his arms across his chest. “Especially not people that I’ve tried to kill.”
“Twice.”
“Twice.”
“Though I did knee you in the balls that one time,” Tim reminds him, shoveling another bite into his mouth.
Jason winces. “Yeah, I remember. Not sure that’s enough to put us on equal playin' field though."
“Also, do you remember last year when you thought you had a bedbug infestation, and even when you switched safehouses, you couldn’t get rid of them?”
The question is asked with an innocence that wouldn’t fool even the most naïve person in the world, and Jason growls. “Okay, I take it back. You do owe me. At least I would have made your death quick. Bedbugs are just…” He shudders. “Evil.”
“There’s a reason Ra’s al Ghul wants me to work for him,” Tim agrees cheerfully.
“I’m suddenly re-evaluating the wisdom of leaving you with a small child.”
“I’m serious, though, it’s no problem to watch her.” Tim makes a waving gesture. “Go. Break up a few bar fights, knock around whatever pimps deserve it, whatever. Just…don’t kill anyone.”
“I ain’t askin’ permission here, Drake.”
“I know that. Doesn’t mean you don’t need the reminder.”
“If you’re so worried I’m gonna snap, maybe you should be tryin’ to keep me home.”
“That would be pretty stupid. And possibly suicidal on my part. You haven’t been out on the streets for a week, and you’ve been cooped up in here since Isa came home.” He ignores Jason’s glare at the nickname. “You need some kind of outlet, and this is the best one I can think of for you.”
It’s the most laissez-faire response he’s ever gotten from a Bat when it comes to Red Hood’s involvement in the Gotham nightlife—or rather, his frequent interruptions of it. Even Barbara—who he knows understands the logic of his crusade, even as she vehemently decries it—has never been like this.
Barring the whole ‘don’t kill anyone’ spiel, that was almost encouraging.
And a far cry from the kid that accused him of taking the easy path of crimefighting when they first met years ago.
Jason realizes then that he’s had a very specific image of Tim Drake in his head all this time. Living in close quarters with him is showing him that he really doesn’t know him at all.
Now is that just me…or is the rest of the family just as clueless when it comes to the baby bird here?
He must be giving Tim a funny look, because the kid says, “What?”
“Nothing,” Jason replies. “Just wondering what Bat Daddy would think about your pro-Red Hood stance.”
Tim winces, an expression of deep revulsion on his face. “Please. Never, ever refer to Bruce or any other guy I know as ‘daddy’. Ever again.”
Jason raises an eyebrow—that’s the first time he’s elicited that reaction—but rather than ask about it, he instead returns to his room to grab his clothes.
The Nest isn’t like the Cave, where Batman keeps extra gear for everyone stowed away (even for the Red Hood, he learned shortly after the mission to bring Damian’s body back from Apokolips), which means Jason’s going to need to stop at one of his caches after leaving to get his helmet and some of the bulkier pieces of armor he didn’t have with him.
Kitted out in everything except the eponymous red hood, Jason pauses in front of the secret entrance to Red Robin’s base.
Sitting on the couch with Luisa, Tim is just hanging up the phone. “I made an appointment for her to see Leslie next Tuesday. It’s the earliest she could fit us in since I couldn’t tell her the exact details.”
“Yeah, probably something to explain in person,” Jason agrees. He jerks his thumb at the door. “I’m leavin' now. Last chance to back out.”
“It’s not going to kill me to be responsible for an infant for a few hours,” Tim deadpans. “I mean, you’ve done it all week, so it should be easy.”
“Famous last words, Replacement. Just remember—Safiya’s number’s in your phone. Use it if you get overwhelmed.”
Tim rolls his eyes at his own words being flung at him. “You’re hilarious.”
“I know,” Jason grins.
“Get out of here.”
“Gone—also, stealing one of your bikes.”
“Just make sure to fill up the tank when you’re done!” Tim calls after him before the door shuts and locks away the domestic part of Jason’s life for the evening.
The short trip from Tim’s place to Jason’s nearest safehouse passes in a blur, and before he knows it he’s safely behind the visor of his helmet and back on the streets.
There’s nothing quite like Gotham at night, and even after a lifetime living here, he’s not entirely sure if that’s a good thing or not.
The rooftops are familiar steppingstones beneath his feet, as he tucks and rolls upon landing, only to propel himself back to his feet and do it again upon reaching the next roof. The rhythm of it all is easy, second nature even, and one he missed in the days where he’s been cooped up.
The last time he was out of commission for so many consecutive days was when he caught the winter flu, and even then he dragged his carcass out of bed just to loom in the dark as a warning to anyone who might try something. It’s a trick Bruce used to pull, when needed to make an appearance as Batman but was hacking up half a lung.
Tim was right about one thing: being able to throw himself into a fight is cathartic. His mind closes off every other thought beyond the here and now, and for the first time in a week, he feels like himself.
He busts up two bodega robberies, stops a carjacking and when a john tries to drag one of the girls working the corner into his car, Jason takes supreme joy in slamming the bastard’s hand in his car door. He checks in with several of his sources, some of whom have names for him of whatever moron has decided to ignore the rules of the Hood this week.
It’s a few hours worth of running about before he finally feels clear again, and by the time he starts winding down his patrol, there’s a deep but familiar exhaustion curling in his muscles that he only ever feels after a good workout. It makes his thoughts feel clearer and more capable of tackling his personal problems once more.
Using the interface in his helmet, he runs a search for the addresses of every Jonathan Sutter in Gotham, then uses the program he piggybacks off the Batcave server to attach the names to any of them that have been treated for Joker toxin in the past year.
There are two and considering one of them is about sixty years old and works as a greeter at Walmart, it’s a safe bet which one he’s looking for. He makes a stop out of his usual route to check up on the guy.
Isabel’s ex lives in the nicer part of Otisburg, about two blocks from an elementary school and a playground.  His home is a decently maintained two-story walk-up, with one of the newer Volkswagen models in the driveway. From what Safiya told him, Sutter does decently financially, and according to the photo in his dossier, he’s got a kind of refined Tony Stark looking going on.
Though that means about jack squat when it comes to whether the guy should be around kids.
If he were Batman, Jason would break in and loom over the guy’s bed until he woke up, but since Sutter’s less likely to be receptive if he’s pissing himself in fear, Jason decides he’ll return by daylight.
He just wanted to scope out where the guy lived, anyhow.
Whether due to his own exhaustion catching up with him, or the nagging feeling at the back of his mind wanting to make sure Tim’s place is still standing, he returns to where he parked the borrowed bike and heads back to the Nest earlier than he normally would.
He’s not even surprised to see the family insomniac still awake, although for once he’s not poring over case files. There’s a game paused on the flatscreen, and Tim is in the process of carefully hefting the baby in his arms up and down, a frown on his face.
Like every Bat, he gives no indication he even noticed he’s no longer alone.
“What’s up?” Jason asks as he rubs a towel through his sweaty hair; he left the bulky bits of his gear in the Nest.
“I think she feels lighter than she did when we brought her here,” Tim replies, a perplexed expression on his face. “Do you think she’s not getting enough food?”
“Not possible with the amount we feed her.”
“Yeah…” Tim shakes his head, then meets Jason’s gaze. “So, did you strike fear into the hearts of every gangbanger in the Alley?”
“You joke, but I take that as a personal challenge.”
“Please don’t.” Tim stands up, holding the baby with more confidence than Jason thinks he’s ever imagined and wanders over. “She slept most of the time you were away.”
“Of course she did,” Jason mutters with a scowl. The baby seems to behave for Tim a lot more than she does for him.
“That’s pretty impressive since she already spends about three-quarters of the day asleep.”
“Wish she would sleep at night, or at least let me.”
“It’s not like we’re not used to being up at all hours.”
“Yeah, but we’re also used to passing out for actual sleep when we get home. I think she thinks sunrise is a signal to work up a f-fuh--,” Jason’s complaint is interrupted by a yawn, and he shakes his head. “Fuss. And on that note…”
“Go. Shower,” Tim says. “I can put her down before I turn in.”
Jason nods at that, putting a foot on the stairs before something occurs to him and he glances back.
“Hey, Tim…”
“Yeah?”
“…Thanks.”
Tim appears caught off-guard, and then an actual grin breaks over his face. “Careful, Jay, you’re starting to sound downright friendly.”
“It’s the sleep deprivation,” Jason replies, “Don’t read into it.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”  
⁂⁂⁂
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charminglyantiquated · 8 years ago
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a short unpolished elsewhere fic
Students who sought out contact with the Fae at Elsewhere University where normally rejected by other students, I was no exception to this rule. The faeries at Elsewhere where the trickster type who liked to steal people, make wagers, and steal people. My first year at elsewhere had been hard for a different reason- people didn’t accept who I was. I very much looked like a typical boy and talked like a typical boy so they all thought I was a boy, this lasted about a week. When I thought people where starting to like me I became more comfortable expressing the fact that I wasn’t a boy, not always at least. You see they had trouble understanding that my gender was so fluid that one day I could be a boy, the next a girl, and one some days both or neither. At least thats what I thought. The real reason why everyone was uncomfortable when I would express this fluidity is because students like me where more likely to be taken by the faeries here, or make deals with them and no one wanted to be friends with someone who would be stolen away, possibly to not return until. During midterms in my second semester people started opening up to me and I made a few friends, this however was an especially hard time for me and I began to want to seek out a faerie that would help me. I began taking my mood ring on walks around the school glancing through it to see the truth and when I would find a faerie I would simply put the ring on and talk to them. I must have talked to a dozen faeries posing as students before I got the answer I was looking for, that if I were able to win a contest with the faerie they would give me the ability to control my voice and then at least I would sound the way I wanted whenever I wanted. This “parlor trick” as the faerie called it wasn’t very costly. I had to wager my second favorite dress (one that I had bought for less than twenty dollars) so I thought the risk would be well worth the reward, the ability to change my voice. This contest was a game of quarters, I became very good at quarters in high school when I would drink my dysphoria away at parties with all the “cool” kids. This was the first of three contests I won with the Fae in two years. The second contest won back a student who had been taken, and the third wager won me a potion that would grant happiness and inspiration for a day (I used this potion to finish my first novel and the short story that secured my A in my creative writing course.) Each wager became more dangerous than the last. For the student me and two others had to put up something with extreme emotional attachment- the teddy bear my grandmother gave me, Hannah’s bracelet their dad gave them before going off to a war they would never return from and Johnny’s blanket (he wouldn’t explain why it was so important to him but the faerie we were dealing with seemed surprised at how much it meant to him.) The potion, well I nearly lost that wager and my voice along with it. But this is nothing compared to the last wager I made at Elsewhere University.
I was on a mission to find the most powerful faerie who would be willing to gamble with me, I knew that was the only way. Even my closest friends told me that they wouldn’t support this endeavor as the risk would be too high. “They’ll take you forever” they warned. I didn’t care anymore, I was tired of the body I was living in and I was going to find a faerie powerful enough to grant me the power to change it. I had seen one student win a wager with a faerie that changed their body once, her name was Ellie and she graduated much happier than I ever imagined she would be, but still not as happy as she deserved to be as her fear of what her parents would think gnawed at her from time to time. But what Ellie had done wasn’t what I wanted, I wanted to be able to change my body, to be the way I felt like I should be on any given day, and that was no parlor trick. That feat was no small task of magic and no complex potion could grant my request. This was strong magic, magic that the faeries only ever used on themselves, I wasn’t even sure it was possible for any Fae to grant my request.
One day though in class room 231- the classroom that time moves the slowest in- I met a faerie who gave off an imposing energy, I knew instantly that if anyone could grant my request it would be them.
“Oh great and powerful one of the fairfolke what might I call you, if you do not mind my inquiry?”I knelt as I said this in sign of respect and recognition of their strength.
“My name is too long and complex, it would get lost on your tongue.” It spoke at me “Humans always did have a way of butchering our words, if they even bothered to learn.” I remained still and silent, eyes fixed on the ground. “You might call me prince, young one.”
I took the offering of the name as an invitation to conversation and stood slowly. Humble in posture and meek in tone I began my request.
“Prince” I started, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I entreat you, I have a desire that I fear only you may make reality.”
“Interesting. And what is this desire, and how would you pay for it?”
“Prince, I would like the ability to change my form, as a faerie would but only between different human forms so that I may have a body to match the way I feel.”
“Phhhuh” the prince scoffed “there is nothing that you possess that could be worth such magic. No human could possess such an item. So you are either offering me your life in servitude or you are seeking to win what you seek in a game. No?”
“Yes, prince” I bowed my head again “I seek to make a wager with you if you win you earn my life, and if I win I earn the power to change my form in any way I wish, when I wish it. I would not be bold enough to choose the nature of this wager, that sir shall be allowed to you.”
He pondered the idea for a moment. He scratched his head and stopped himself from speaking many times before he made his response.
“Human, I will accept this wager if you will accept the game I propose.”
“I will play any game, try anything, I need this.”
“I see your pain, your maturity, your wisdom. This isn’t a childs wager so we will not be playing childs game. This wager is of magic and faeries so we will be playing a game that reflects that. We shall play a game that my people have been playing a long time, you should learn it very quickly as it is much like your human chess or checkers. You will be given a copy of the rules today and in three nights, when the moon is full, you shall come here and we will play, if you win you will have your request. If I win I will own you you will exist in servitude for the rest of your life. Does it sound like a deal?” he held his hand out and smiled at me, he was leaning forward in his chair in anticipation. Hesitantly I reached out to grasp hands with him, realizing I had never touched a fae before. He threw back his head in laughter.
“I haven’t had a good challenge in ages, please do entertain me.” And then prince disappeared. Leaving nothing behind but a packet of papers, the rule book. The game was simply called “kingdom” and it involved several different pieces that both players were allowed to place on their side of the board in any way they wished to start the game, after this players were only allowed to move one piece a turn then they could make an action with one of their pieces and that would be the end of the turn. The object of the game was to capture or defeat all the pieces that an enemy controlled some pieces could capture and others could attack making an infinite variety of strategies that players could make. Prince had left a note for me saying that this was a copy of the abridged rules and that we would not be playing with the more complex set. I thought to myself that the game was already so complex that he had done me a kindness omitting the more challenging rules for our showdown. I didn’t go to class for the days that followed, I stayed in one area or another that would give me more time to study the rules and become any kind of proficient at this game. I left the areas that time moved slowly in only to sleep. And when the day came, I prayed I was ready. I picked out my favorite dress, and put on my most comfortable shoes.
The walk to the room seemed to go on forever, none of the fae in the halls even looked at me as I passed. When I arrived prince was standing next to the chair he had been sitting in when we first met.
“Greetings” he said “I hope you’ve had a productive few days it would be a shame if you made this easy on me.”
“I plan to win tonight, prince”
“Lets commence then” he waved his hand over the table and the game board appeared, he sat in his chair and motioned for me to sit opposite him. “Just remember this is a game, so have fun with it.”
I simply nodded as I laid my pieces. The pattern I had chosen was very daring. I sat my king in the middle of my side of the board with all my other pieces around him. It appeared that he was exposed but the placement of my other pieces just meant that this was a big trap and if he tried to move on my king I could take a large lead in the game. This however isn’t what happened. In actuality he knew what I was doing and instead set about demolishing the defenses I had made for the king taking an offensive strategy that started to widdle down my pieces with minimal gain on my end. I tried to counter his moves by counter engaging with my pieces which proved effective for a few turns until I fell into his trap. The game lasted for hours going forth and back and my knowledge of the game was stretched to its absolute max as I tried to find out what his real end strategy was, and how much of this he had known I would do from the start. Eventually I had nothing but my king as his last few pieces circled around.
“You seem to have lost” he said “now what is it that we agreed upon?”
“That you would have me, own me, for the rest of my days.”
“Yes I see, that was a truly desperate wager you made wasn’t it?”
I only nodded.
The moments that followed are a blur to me now, the next thing I remember clearly happens in faerie castle that prince called home. More accurately in his bed chamber. He showed me his true face. He was a tall, very human looking creature with antlers growing from his head, he was attractive. I found myself shocked at his allure.
“Now you see, human” his voice was like silk as he almost whispered to me “there a few things I didn’t tell you, a few things that you have to do.” I became fearful that my servitude would become more physical than imagined. “In my eyes you won our wager as you won me over, and asking you to do the things I want to ask of you would be very wrong. So instead I brought you here because in this room there is an artifact thats magic I can use to grant your wish and after I grant it I have a request for you but since I will not hold you in a bond of servitude you have no obligation to humor my request. While I was recovering from the revelation that I would be getting what I wanted and that I would not have to commit my life to a faerie, he rummaged through the chest at the foot of his bed and pulled out an amulet. “Take this. Touch it and absorb the power in it and you will have your request granted. But be warned, once you do this, you are one of us, stuck here in our world. You may only leave in limited amounts. My request, if you choose to accept the magic of the amulet, is that you stay here with me, get to know me and perhaps one day, learn to love me as I have come to love you in the years I watched you in that school perform tasks both for yourself and others.”
Without hesitation I touched the jewel of the amulet and started to absorb its power, but soon after I started I stopped, and tested my gut theory. Without absorbing all the power of the amulet I was still able to change shape, but I had to remain humanoid, which was my only intention to begin with.
“The rest of the power in this amulet isn’t needed, I only asked for the power It has already given me, I don’t need the animal shapes. Am I still bound here?”
“No” he hung his head “you are not bound here. You are merely half faerie now, and half faeries break the rules when it comes to traversing worlds. But be warned the point of your ears will not be changeable. That will be the only thing that cannot be changed by the power you have gained here.”
I touched his face gently, drawn to him as if by magic and found myself wanting to kiss him. “If you dont stop with the desire magic I’m never going to visit you again. Then what poor human will you rope into playing kingdom?”
“You mean?”
“Yeah. We can be friends. As long as you don’t keep using that magic on me. Humans find it invasive.”
x
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Local Animal Control Agencies Find a Hospital Dogs for the Visually Impaired Youth Impact Programs Learn more at nomnomnow.com Private Adoption Brooklyn, NY z Obviously, your puppy will feel the need to bark, chew, and eliminate throughout the course of the day, and so she must be left somewhere she can satisfy her needs without causing any damage or annoyance. Your puppy will most probably eliminate as far as possible from her sleeping quarters-in her doggy toilet. By removing all chewable items from the puppy playpen-with the exception of hollow chewtoys stuffed with kibble-you will make chewing chewtoys your puppy’s favorite habit, a good habit! 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If you’re not sure where to start, sign up for an in-person obedience class; there’s no better way to train your dog than to practice with an expert IRL. You can also follow any of the helpful links above, and check out our blog archives for additional tips and tricks.
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