#i think what gets me about tim is that he’s like. so utterly normal and clearly not meant for any of it but throws himself in anyway | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bronx-bomber87 · 2 months ago

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Happy Wednesday my lovely readers :) We’ve reached the episode that rocked me to my very core. Honestly haven’t been this attached to a ship in a very very long time. Years passed without this level of attachment. Bringing out sides of me I didn't think existed. Like doing reviews. But our ship is something special even when they rip our hearts out. I blame Eric and Melissa LOL They are INCREDIBLE in this episode. The both of them. Brought their A game and then some.

This ep legit affected my mood for 3 weeks no joke and utterly destroyed me. I needed extra days to decompress before did my mini. The fandom was so lovely about that too. Love this fandom so much. I still don't know how I got that out tbh lol Also God Bless my bestie D for going through that with me. I got to watch it early that day which normally didn’t get to. Was usually after work. I remember D wanted to stop me but didn’t cause she couldn’t tell me why..

I had to go to a company meeting after and pretend I wasn’t devastated. Be a positive fun leader when inside I was dying. I did a good job my team had no idea lol But damn that was tough. Never been happier for a 3 week break than after this one. We all needed it. Let us begin. And thank you all again for going through this heartbreak with me. Gif count was rough for me so I fit in everything I could and made a ton.

6x06 Secrets and Lies

We start out with Lucy looking as stressed and anxious as we’ve ever seen her. Laying in bed but most definitely is not resting. The brutal toll this situation has taken becoming visible. When Tamara asks how stressed she is from 1-10? Lucy answering 19….Ooof....Could not be more relatable if she tried. When I get this laser focused I too am a nineteen. Her person has been radio silent for days. Her last contact with him was a massive knock out drag out fight.

This is the most time they’ve spent apart since they got together. Like I stated last review other than 6x01 they've scarcely been away from one another. Her UC mission in 5x21 yes but doesn’t really count. They talked every single day. So it’s truly the longest they’ve been apart. No wonder she is at a 19. Poor Lucy. Kills me. Such a wreck without him. Tamara asks if Tim is still ghosting her? Lucy tries to defend their situation. Not well but she sure tries lol

Lucy is barely keeping it together and it shows. I love that we get a shot of her pin-up board from that BTS video. The cupcake poster hehe Hopefully that makes a triumphant return in s7. Tamara doesn’t want to add to her stress... But let's her know she wants to move out. With friends from school. Worst timing ever. It makes sense but the timing is horrendous. Lucy takes so many hits this season. It’s almost worse the second time around somehow.

This time Lucy goes to an actual adult about Tim. Not useless Nolan who was painfully inept for her. Couldn’t fit it in but we see her touch her tattoo when she approaches Angela. *heart clutch* I love Melissa for doing it every time though. So subtle yet impactful. Nice little mini gut punch to start the scene. This was the right call though. If anyone knows Tim like her it’s Angela. Lucy asking if she should alert Grey? Honestly she should've but here we are. That would've been a whole other set of problems though...

Lucy feels like she’s going insane so Angela validating her helps. (at first) You know she finds this behavior of his incredibly alarming. We can see the immediate worry painted across her face. That’s her brother. She loves that man like he’s one. What sucks is that, even though Angela is empathetic, she doesn’t fulfill the needs that Lucy is going for. Which is reassurance and 'Hey let’s do this together.' A united front. Hoping since he is acting off Angela's reply would be 'Let's find out why as a team.' She is protecting her but Lucy is in a heightened emotional state and doesn't see that. Only see's being shut out further from Tim.

Angela plays her cards very close to her chest. Like a good detective would. Sadly Lucy wanted more solace than just ‘Trust him.’ That’s all she’s been doing for days. Poor woman is going out of her damn mind with worry. Even tells Angela as such. The reply she gets back not what she wanted… She wanted her detective gut and friendship. Unfortunately she just gets the former. That short lived validation she got earlier dying off quickly. Lucy is so damn upset when she takes off from the convo. Knowing if she sticks around she’s going to cry on shift. My damn heart. Melissa be killing me. Holy hell.

Angela scaring the crap out of Tim is hilarious. Serves him right tbh. This episode had me so upset and twisted, I couldn’t even enjoy scruffy Tim in a leather jacket. You know something is wrong when I can’t gawk over this man. Angela has zero trouble finding him. Because well it’s her. This is why Lucy enlisted her. She needed the best to help her. Such best friend behavior from the minute she enters his car.

Drinking his soda, calling him out, and asking WTF is going on? I adore her brazen bravery. This is why we love Angela Lopez. Willing to get herself fired for him. That she can take the hit not Lucy. I mean she’s not wrong….Angela could easily live off Wes. She would hate it but she could. It's a more viable option. Says it can be ‘Wine o’clock for her.’ LOL I always enjoy them. More of them in s7 please writers.

Tim doesn’t argue with her reasoning. Starts to explain the whole Ray debacle. Why he can’t just let him go. What he has on him. That he needs to catch him in a new crime. So he has reason to actually arrest him. Once Tim fully explains Angela just replies. ‘I’m in.’ Tim is shocked because of course he is ha Even though she is his best friend he can't believe has his back like this. Oh my broken boy. He double checks and asks if she’s sure? Her reply being the absolute best. ‘Yeah. I got your back boo.’ Hehe Lucky she’s your best friend my love.

We rejoin our bestie duo at the docks. Scoping out Ray on whatever back door deals he’s doing. She is studying Tim hard in this scene. It’s the best. Angela tries to impart some logic to Tim. Saying he’s followed Ray for two days and nothing. Asking how long he’s going to do this? Tim replying the most Tim Bradford reply. ‘As long as it takes.’ Angela is on her game today and doesn’t let him get away with it. Saying he’s just going to walk away from his job? From his relationship with Lucy? All to arrest a guy he hasn’t thought about in over a decade?

Something isn’t adding up for her and she is letting him know it. Angela gives her patented look. Knowing it’s something more. There’s a reason she’s such a good detective. Woman knows how to get to the root of things. Tim has only given her surface info at this point. Definitely not enough to justify this crusade he’s currently on. Let’s him know Lucy would understand why he lied on the report. She would even commend him for it really. We know she would. She love his soft heart so much. Tim agrees and says she would still get in trouble for knowing and not reporting him to IA.

A risk she would gladly take if you’d let her Timothy… It’s here Angela digs a little deeper. He gets a second stare. Tim finding it aggravating and telling her as such. Angela let's her next truth bomb drop. Saying he’s doing it to protect himself as much as her. That there’s something he’s not admitting. Mic drop. Nailed it and Tim knows it but won’t entertain it further. Has him dead to rights and he knows it. We then get the glorious BFF line. Like it or not she is. lmao Has your number just like your girl.

We return to Angela’s for Tim to break our hearts some more. Theme of this episode. One punch after another. Literally no time to breathe unless you check out during the other SL's. Which I did tbh.... They’re alone so she probes Tim further. Knowing that it has to be so much more than a report. He wouldn't let Ray get under his skin like this if it was that shallow. That he's bearing the weight of something on his soul. Tim gives in and begrudgingly explains what happened. That he had been squad leader most of his tour. That he was looking to move up to Sergeant First Class. Only caveat was he couldn’t have any rampant criminality in his unit.

Ray was in the way of this. Tim decided to keep it within the squad if they caught him themselves. He did an unsanctioned mission… Oh Timothy….He explains how Ray called in an air strike on them. Did this the minute he knew he was trapped. Schmuck would rather take them with him. Such a cowards move. The way Tim describes the air strike. Ugh my heart. His eyes filling up as he depicts how the world imploded around them. Eric is a master of emotion here. So expressive. Looks like he is right back there, with the most haunted look on his face. He thought he was going to die. Being so vulnerable I wanna hug him.

He and Mark were lucky though. The Humvee took the hit for them. But Henderson and Coyle were ripped apart….Ugh and now we see what he’s been bearing. That he led his men to their deaths. Their loyalty and faith in him had cost them their lives. All because Tim was in pursuit of a promotion. For personal glory. Explains why he wouldn't praise himself or take awards pre-Lucy. Or advance his career before her either. He didn’t feel he deserved anything good. Because the last time that was important to him, he got two of his men killed. Imma go cry now.... My poor broken boy. The PTSD is so real.

Eric continues to rip my heart out. Telling Angela there was so much blood. I can't imagine seeing that. They for sure thought Ray was KIA. No way he survived. It’s the way he catches his breath, tears in his eyes in this next part. I'm so upset for him. The way he points at himself when he says leadership. The failure and shame he feels for what he did. When we found out it would be his military background I was excited. I knew it would be dark though. Whatever this was. But my god. I wasn’t expecting it to be this. But makes perfect sense why he’s kept it from Lucy. He can’t bring himself to forgive what he did. How could he expect Lucy to? To still look at him like he’s the same man she fell in love with?

The deep rooted shame is evident in this scene. This is quite the weight to keep on your soul. One I’m sure he’s never told anyone. Not even Isabel about I bet. My guess is he buried it once he was state side. Like most do with trauma. Hoping it would never resurface. Sadly not how trauma goes... The way he tells the story it’s for the first time. You can tell. He’s right back there re-living it all. This scene gives us so much insight to Tim as a person. Why he is the way he is as a cop. As a person. It explains why he lost his damn mind in 2x01 over Lucy falsifying the report. Probably brought him right back there.

This is a very revealing scene. It makes sense why he shoulders things alone. It’s punishment for what he did. Doesn’t think anyone could love him enough to shoulder it with him. That breaks my damn heart. This ep makes me so emotional. *sad sigh* Nothing scarier than the person you love seeing you at your worst. With his background of abuse, it makes sense why he’s hidden this from Lucy. He doesn’t feel worthy of the comfort she would bring him. Only shame that he made a mistake. Tim is very self loathing and this is why. Coupled with his childhood it makes so much sense why he is the way he is…This one is emotionally heavy af. All his unchecked trauma barreling through like a bullet train in this ep.

Lucy arrives home and Tamara is there to take care of her. Saying she ordered pizza. I love this. She needed this. Lucy leaves the room to drop off her stuff. We hear a knock at the door and it’s Ray.... Earlier he scanned Tim’s vehicle and got Lucy’s address. Which made me sick to my stomach. I knew him grabbing it was going to end this way. Best way to get to Tim is through his heart. When Tamara opened the door and it was him..The hairs at the back of my neck stood up. Tamara calls out for Lucy. She emerges and goes into protect mode right away. Eyes on Tamara first but also hating her gun is locked up.

Heart was in my damn throat the entire time. Lucy handles herself like the bad ass we’ve all come to know and love. Commend her for keeping herself composed when she was terrified. I also adore her not putting up with any of his scare tactic BS. Her line about the only call she’s gonna make is for the ambulance. Like hot damn Lucy. Way to protect Tamara and yourself. It's true she could take his scrawny ass easily. I long to be the confident BAMF she is.

Doesn't hurt she’s still got the rage burning from being in the dark. So not only is her life being threatened now Tamara's is. This is Lucy's FINAL straw. It’s now bled over in the worst way. Not only that but she still has no idea what’s going on. We can see that mama bear come out loud and proud. It’s one thing for her to be involved it’s a whole other thing with Tamara dragged in. This is what pushes her to reach out To Tim. To cut his crap. Whatever this is has now endangered an innocent life. One she loves fiercely and will die to protect.

Lucy RAGE calls Tim and unleashes hell. As she should… Demanding to know where his ass is. Tim knowing he can’t hold her back any longer. So he lets her know. I mean Lucy is million percent done with this crap now. With his behavior, him cutting her out, all of it. So very very done. Rightfully so. I do love him answering ��Hey, what’s wrong?’ Knowing she wouldn’t be calling unless something was. He for sure would’ve dropped it all to go to her.

But she was way too pissed to see that fact. She shows up like a bat out of hell. Biting his head off immediately saying 'Does she look ok?' No….she does not. Forever love Angela escorting Tamara out of the room. Mom and dad about to have it out so let's go. The concern all over his face kills me though. This was the last thing he wanted to happen. The very thing he was striving for by shutting her out backfired horribly. Not only did he endanger her but Tamara too.

It was Lucy’s final straw and she is showing it. These were the types of fights that are needed though. As much as this hurts she is fighting him to save them. Because he is worth the bother and effort. Just like he stated in 5x08. Asking why her and Chris never fight?They’re fighting against each other to protect one another it kills me. Also you know your ship has chemistry when even their fights are lightning in a bottle goodness. Just as amazing as their happy stuff. I can't speak enough to their fantastic on-screen chemistry. Even though this fight is fiery and hurts to watch it's hurts so good to watch them hash it out.

Tim explains who Ray is and Lucy don’t give a single fuck. It’s not who he is that has her raging. It’s him cutting her out that is. I love the movements Melissa does in this scene. I know she had an interview about her being mad. Thinking she was awkward. It wasn't at all. Was so real. I think she nailed it. Her body language is on point. How she stamps her foot. Shouting how who Ray is doesn’t explain why he iced her out. At all. She is VIBRATING with anger. Yelling at Tim to stop protecting her. Which he won't. That is like asking him to stop breathing tbh. He would rather die than not protect her. Ugh his reply of ‘ I can’t. I won’t.’ They’re at odds with the deepest part of their souls. Of who they are.

Tim will never stop protecting her. Just as she will never stop trying to help him. Been in her DNA from the jump. For him to not let her is just as painful as Tim not protecting her. *sigh* This is where their intense need to protect each other backfires so badly. Sounds romantic and sometimes it is. But in these type of moments, it shows the cracks in their already fractured communication. It real though. Communicating is HARD. Especially when you both come from abusive homes where that wasn't taught. If you aren't taught healthy communication you're just not going to do it. Simple as that. It's like a muscle that never gets used. Then when it does it feels so unnatural and painful.

These two are going to be the death of me. Hell they already have been. They have so much to work on in s7. It’s insane. I'm excited for it though. Lucy then brings up how Lopez was read in but not her. She is HIS PERSON. If anyone should be read in it’s her. Consequences be damned. Yeah Angela does have less to lose but that is NOT the point. Tim is clearly not getting that fact. I adore Lucy grabbing his hands during the end of the scene. Mirroring back she 'Can’t and won’t' not help him. Telling him she is over being to good girlfriend. He’s going to let her in NOW. Oooh lord. You Tell 'em Luce.

Their OP to foil Ray goes off without a hitch. Tim tells him it’s over. That there isn’t an air stroke to save him this time. Ray tells Tim ‘I am the air strike. I’m about to blow up your whole life.’ *grumble* It’s so true on many many levels. Watching Tim be so stoic in his IA investigation kills me. Wish could've fit this in. Eric be out here again making me emotional af two eps in a row. You can see the tears in his eyes but the rest of him is controlled. That military background of his coming in clutch.

it pains me to watch him lie and have it destroy him. I remember I saw people saying how could he lie? That’s not like him. Um no. This is very like Tim. Not to lie but to protect those he loves. If lying protects Lucy and Lopez that’s what he’s going to do. He has a history of being a little gray for those he loves. Isabel is a good example of that. All that went down with Detective Murphy was similar to this. ‘Some things matter more.’ Once again rings true with him. Tim is believed over Ray. Because even if Tim doesn’t want to believe this he is the better man.

Better reputation and Percy closes the investigation. Have missed him. But whoever he’s around it’s not good. Love the actor though. What happens after is rough to say the least. Never seen Grey as disappointed in Tim as he is here. Reprimanding him and having to report him to Pine SUCKS. R.I.P. Metro Tim. I loved you so…It’s killing Tim to have Grey look at him this way. Deeply respects him and to be scolded by him cuts him. Just dismisses Tim without further comment or fight….

God almighty the song playing in the background. I don’t even remember it. I only watched this scene once. I think I blacked out a lot in this moment. The immense shock rocked my system. Suffice to say it’s beautiful. The piano, the haunting oohs and lyrics are the perfect backdrop to this devastating scene. I felt this building anxiety watching this scene. Waiting for the hammer to drop. When she pulled him into her arms *phew* It was first breath I had taken in nearly two episodes. These eps had me on the razor's edge of sanity. I love her waiting outside for him and instantly pulling him into her arms. Just like Tim did for her in 5x22. I'm fine.....Imma cry as I write this. Horse heaven playing in my ears right now. Adding to my emotional state. These two getting me all weepy.

I’ll be honest I thought if a break up was coming, it was coming from Lucy the first time. Which is why this devastated me like it did. Having the full season in hand now. Makes total sense it’s Tim. At the time I thought would be her. But that wouldn’t be like Lucy at all. After everything he put her through. The secrets, the lies and shutting her out. She had every damn right. But she loves this man unconditionally. So unconditionally. Everything Lucy does in this scene is a reflection of that unconditional love. There to pick up his broken pieces despite all of that went down. Look at her in those gifs above.

Especially that second one. First time she took a breath too. So grateful to be here for him in this moment. I truly thought ‘Oh. Maybe we’re ok... She’s hugging him.’ Encasing him in her arms. Trying to absorb all of his hurt. Supporting him the way he sought out days previous. Gently cradling him against her. It's the tender way she nestled her fingers at the back of his head that gets me. Tapping into some ship crack for me there. *phew* Honestly thought with her being there for him they would make it out unscathed. I truly did. The chemistry from this hug is unreal btw. Tim doesn’t feel worthy in the least. The way he slumps against her. Doesn’t really hug her back like normal. Can't see Lucy is so willing to absorb his hurt and pain. To love him through this. This hug is beautifully tragic.

Lucy releases him and he looks as broken as I’ve ever seen him. 4x09 x 1000 tbh. He shirks away from her. Hands in his pocket. So disgusted and ashamed with himself. Something l've learned in Pilates is posture and the importance of it. When you stand tall and at full height. You are confident and sure of yourself. When you are slumped it presents a lack of confidence, shame, and feeling unworthy. His posture is screaming that. Like he feels he shouldn’t even be in her presence right now. He crushes me with how he says he lied about everything.

Then sarcastically almost sardonically follows it up with ‘But hey it saved my job….’ The amount of disdain in his voice is gut wrenching. The whole reason he was in this Ray mess was to further himself. To keep his career intact. He saw a promotion and went for it at all costs. What he just did lying to IA was to be that same man again. (In his mind) To put his career first over what’s right. Risked people's lives again as well. People he loves. Sickens him ten years later he’s doing the same thing all over again. Even though it's so different this time. There is still nobility in it with saving Lucy and Lopez. But this man can't see that right now. Doesn't see any good in this situation or himself.

Lucy does her best to sympathize. Telling him it was an impossible situation. If it had been her she would’ve done the same thing. Thing is if it had been for Tim yes she would’ve without question. But he can’t see the forest for the trees atm. He is drowning absolutely drowning in his self-loathing. Tim continues on with the painful self flogging. Telling her she would’ve never been in his position. Putting her on a pedestal while he makes himself very very small. That OTP line from 6x03 from him 'You could never disappoint me.' That is true. The problem is he doesn't realize he could never disappoint her either. Tragically Tim doesn't view it that way. Only sees he's not worthy.

Lucy once again tries to pick up his pieces. Telling him he thought he could handle it. He was wrong but made it right. It’s like she can sense him pulling away in this moment. Doing her best to calm his fears about himself. Trying to do what she’s always done in years past best. Build him up. Soothe him. Sadly she isn’t gaining an inch of ground with him. He is stuck in how he feels and there is no budging him. Tim is morose saying he wishes it was that easy….We can see the incredible amount hurt on his face. Telling her he just lied to two men he deeply respects. He is coming undone rapidly and Lucy can see it. I adore her putting her hands on him. Trying to right his ship.

Ground him to her in this moment. Because once again it's something she’s done so well in the past. Tim is spiraling so hard he can’t see her gesture for what it is. Tells her he just betrayed everything he thought was right about himself. *heart clutch* Lucy can’t stand him talking down about himself. Tries to interrupt but Tim won’t allow it. Lucy graciously nods and lets him get it out. Especially when he tells her how hard this is for him. She is so wonderfully understanding it makes my heart ache. Tim feels like he is a bad guy. Thought he had gotten past this and was sucked back in so easily. Truly believed he had become a better person since then. (He has) Ray was right he was gonna blow up his entire life.

He just exposed Tim for the fraud he already felt he was. Bringing his greatest sin to light. Bringing up feelings of not being deserving. Of inadequacy. His abuse background pulling into the station and not leaving. Tim is back to a place of massive self loathing. Saying he has been lying to himself for years. Thinking he’s gotten better when he hasn’t. To him he reverted back to the man he thought he left behind. Not only that he put his person. The woman he loves at risk to cover up his past. To cover up his shame. It’s hitting him like a freight train of terrible realization. Continuing on to say he can’t go back to the way it was. I was hopeful when he said ‘Right now.’ Then followed it up with maybe never….

Lucy had been nodding along. Being so wonderfully empathetic and understanding. She was with him till he said that. Then she is hit with her own terrible realization. He’s leaving her. She is losing him. In the same parking lot where he told her to take a risk. Where she expressed her concern over losing him if they did. Worried about losing the most important relationship in her life due that risk. The same spot where he told her 'Unless it is.' A giant stab to our collective shipper hearts.

It's why Lucy is in a state of utter shock. As we all were tbh. She shakily asks him if he’s breaking up with her? When he said I’m sorry. I remember having to pause. Freak out and cry. I recall chanting ‘No no no….’ To myself repeatedly. My dog was very alarmed. Because I was distraught af. I couldn't believe this was really happening. My happy place was being decimated before my eyes.

Look at the range of emotions on Tim's face before he delivers that line though. Eric you why you doing this to me? They blow this scene out the damn water. it's so visceral. and raw. He looks like he's about to have a breakdown before he delivers that line. Battling with himself about it. There's a desperate need to want to stay with her. But his self doubt and hatred wins out knowing he isn't deserving. Do I think he came out thinking he was going to do this? A little. I think the more he spoke about it and himself the decision was made. He wasn't going to be be talked off this ledge.

The way Lucy replies after this rips my heart out. This break up feels like death by a thousand paper cuts. Months later and this hurts just as much as the first time. Lucy doesn't hold back in the least. Telling Tim he doesn't get to do that. Her line about using it as an excuse is so spot on. This Ray situation has hit VERY close to home for Tim. An insanely sensitive subject for him. It's rubbed against a wound that never really healed properly. Just was buried in the back of his mind.

He doesn’t have the capacity or emotional maturity to handle it. So he ejects out as a coping mechanism. Lucy calls his ass right away for it. It’s so painful to her that he is doing this excuse. Because it feels like a crappy cheat to them. To her. It's truly a cop out and our girl deserves better than this. Especially after all they’ve been through together. All that rapport and trust they’ve built over the years. It’s an insult to who they are as a couple and the relationship they’ve developed. Sadly that all vanishes in this moment. It’s stunning Lucy and straight murdering my feels.

Her ‘That's not okay.’ is a dagger to my shipper heart. The way she continues to repeat herself cause she's in shock. Ugh.This goes down as one of the most painful breakups I've had to go through. Lucy is so upset he is going this route. Melissa had a great interview (quite a few actually.) About the lie line and using it as an excuse for Tim. She noted Lucy is upset cause how he’s acting isn’t them. That they get to have these conversations. Not only have them but recover and grow from them. It’s what she expecting from him in this moment. It's what she expected from his 5x08 Mantra going into this relationship.

She is telling him I’ve got your back. I’ve got you. What are you doing? What happened to ‘Unless it is?’ Lucy continues to vehemently disagree with him. As she should. The worst part is Tim says ‘I know.’ Like he knows what he’s doing is wrong. Knows to eject after everything isn’t ok. Yet he can’t stop himself. He is not emotionally mature enough to handle this conversation properly. Also too blinded by his own self-hatred to see the unconditional love she is showing for him in this moment. God this is painful.

Tim then comes in with the breakup line of ‘You’re an incredible person.' Lucy can’t believe this shit . She really can’t. That Tim is is doing this to her. To them. Even though Tim is being genuine with his statement. You can hear it in his voice. Doesn't do anything to soothe the wounds he's causing. Once again Melissa crushing it with the upset body language. The mannerisms are so on point. Maybe it's because I'm Italian and I use my hands when I'm upset. I do exactly what she's doing. Why I appreciate it so much. It's so real.

It's a cop out what he is doing. 'It’s not you it’s me' schtick. We see the anger building in Lucy. She can't even look at him in the second gif. For him to toss away what they have is painful enough. To do it based off a cliched excuse is destroying Lucy. Thinking what they had was worth so much more than this. Thought they worth the nasty fights. No way she knows fully what happened or she would figure out why he's really doing this. That’s what makes the rest of Lucy's replies so god damn tragic. She is trying to hold onto him for dear life. But is only being pushed away in return...

Tim continues to push forward with this breakup. Letting her know she deserves better than him. It's SO much deeper than that but it's the only way he can convey it right now. Her ‘Oh my god…’ This is her worst nightmare. Her biggest fear come to life. This is why she hesitated starting this relationship. Why she was so afraid of risking her most important relationship. It's unfolding before her eyes and she can’t stop it.

Like a bad dream she can't seem to wake up from. We all wish we could...Tim has never felt worthy of Lucy’s love, light or praise. This reaction just proves that. It's been building for a long time and this is the final result of it. It’s not logical but a trauma brain rarely is. The amount of emotional and physical abuses he endured growing up left it's mark. Has him truly convinced Lucy could never love him knowing what he did. Tim feels he does not deserve her comfort, support or love.

Punishing himself and denying what he need most because he feels unworthy. Thinks he has made a mistake so grave there is no coming back for him. No way she could love him if she knew. So he like Angela stated earlier Tim is protecting himself. Pains me to watch. Now as I've said before it's not to excuse but to explain his side of it. I understand why he's doing it even if it's fucked up.

He doesn't give Lucy much more than she deserves better. Tells her it's why he's walking away. This man feels so undeserving of the love she has to give. In his mind he thinks he’s doing her a kindness. To separate herself from such a shameful and broken man. That she could do better than him. To Tim he made the biggest sin and can’t live with himself about it. He can't envision a world where Lucy would love him through it. The tragedy is she already was in this scene.

Lucy isn’t hearing any of it. Full on panic spiral that I shared in this moment. Her ‘Don’t do this. Why are you doing this?’ Is the most soul crushing part. She can feel him slipping through her hands. Like sand rushing through her fingertips. She can’t hold onto a grain of him. Can only stand there as he gives up on them. His face in the third gif...Knife to my soul. *screams into a pillow* It's killing him to walk away from her. Eric and his expressive eyes has me bawling. The quiver in his bottom lip as well. Gah it hurts to watch them both in so much pain. It’s the way she pulls away with one hand, but is clutching his other hand for dear life, that really gets me in that last gif.

Asking him once again why are you doing this? I shared that sentiment in this moment.. Tim stands firm in his decision to end them and rip all of our hearts out. Eric had a great quote about how Tim handed this whole thing. ‘He is impulsive and he reacts instead of thinking things through. And it can come out as a bit too strong.’ He feels he is a burden Lucy therefore he is removing himself. Not thinking about the damage it’s going to do to her. The immense regret he’s going to feel when he regulates a bit more.

Something therapy has taught me is we are ruled by our nervous system. Anxiety, stress, fear etc Tim’s was haywire in this moment. All of them going off at once. Not thinking clearly. Acting out of fight or flight. He took the flight option unfortunately. The tragic way he grabs her head and gives her the saddest head kiss. Shattering all of our hearts in the process. It’s the devastated look on his face when he strokes her hair and takes off. One final gut punch from him. It's like he’s leaving behind his greatest treasure and can’t bear to be around it any longer. Lucy is clutching to him until he departs. *snifffle*

The man actually thinks she is better off without him. Truly believes that. Even if Lucy had succeeded it keeping Tim, this would've reared it’s ugly head again down the road. This breakup ruined my friggin life. I kid you not. They were my happy place. My consistent happy place. And now that was gone. It affected my mental health a little too not gonna lie. I think I was in mourning for three weeks. Honestly I still am. Low key will be till they're fixed. Those three weeks were unbearable. But also needed. Thank you again to my bestie D for being my mourning partner through out that. Kept me sane.

That being said I think this will push them in the best direction. A healthier and stronger one. I truly believe that. I recently broke up with a friend who I had been friends with for ten years. It was very hard on me but time. Boundaries were being pushed and it wasn't healthy anymore. My therapist pointed me to a wonderful book called ‘Goodbyes and good boundaries. ’ While It helped heal my heart it also has really good pieces in it. Stuff made me think of this very ep tbh. Sure that wasn't her goal LOL But my brain is always in a Chenford state of mind in some way or another.

First one that made me think of them. ‘Health cannot bond to unhealth.’ As much as it wasn’t fair for Lucy. And god it wasn’t after everything else this season. Tim was in such a radioactive state staying with her wouldn’t have worked anyway. He was radiating turmoil. Lucy can do a lot for him but not this. He NEEDED therapy so much. There are things you learn in there that only your therapist can help you with. He was unhealth and Lucy was trying to keep her empathetic healthy self to him. It was never going to work. Not unless Tim put in some work. Which he couldn't at this point in time.

“Relationship often die not because of conversations never had but rather conversations needed but never had.” Another good one made me think of them. Tim was not ready in the least for the adult conversation required of him in this moment. Or their entire relationship really. They both danced around the issues a lot. 6x02 closest we got. Even then it was one sided. Thus them dying in this moment. Despite Lucy’s damndest to keep them afloat. Remind him of what they’re fighting for. Of why they started this. This breakup was painful af. Despite how this wrecked my world it’s going to be good for them in the long run.

I will say Lucy in that last gif was all of us in that moment. It was a soul crushing moment that decimated this fandom. Still blows my mind Melissa and Eric were surprised just how insanely devastated we were. Why they did those lovely posts during the three weeks. To thank us and to hold on. Growth is coming. They’re going to be even better after this. Doesn’t mean this didn’t hurt like a SOB and won’t long after they reunite. Curse you Eric and Melissa. You are incredible to evoke such emotions out of us all.

Thank you for going through this with me again. It wasn’t easy but they always worth it. Appreciate any and all comments, likes or reblogs I get. I shall see you all in 6x07 :)

Side notes non chenford

Balian doing the creepy bed thing again. Just have to note that.

Also can’t believe they didn’t end the ep with their breakup. There is a whole minute or so of I don’t give a shit after that scene. I was so distraught they could’ve had Nolan walk into a wall and I wouldn't have noticed.

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fancyfade · 5 months ago

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Damian's intro in Batman and Son analysis

Okay so. This will be shorter than my Lonely Place of Dying meta (link) because rather than focusing on multiple story elements, I want to just focus on how Morrison presents Damian to the audience.

Again - this is not me saying this comic is bad (I mean. The treatment of talia definitely is bad but this post is about how Damian is presented) or 'you can't like this comic'. Just an analysis of what the audience sees.

General thesis: Morrison doesn't try to make Damian likeable, and does what they can to make him unlikable, but he is not presented as a villain, even though he does villainous things. He's presented more of an obstacle, a spoiled kid who happens to have assassin training.

Okay so let's start with his very first appearance.

Damian is obscured in shadow, or only a small portion of his face is visible, for the first two issues he appears in (until the very last page of the second issue) to keep a mystery on who he is. This is a pretty common technique for hiding character's identities in comics. It's also what the artist does for Talia, though we see her face a little earlier than Damian's.

We don't see Talia's face until Batman recognizes who is behind it, and even after that Damian is in shadow (clearly visible to Batman, but Batman doesn't comment on him) until Talia introduces him.

This is the first time we see him fully on panel.

Okay, so we've covered how Damian is presented on panel before we know who he is. Now lets get to what information is presented about Damian?

From the first thing Talia says about Damian to Batman, Damian is portrayed as out of control, something that continues into the next comics.

When Damian gets to be Batcave he:

Is generally unimpressed with the Batcave

scoffs at the idea of fighting crime

starts touching Bruce's unfinished projects

Clarifies his mom was not present in his childhood and let him do whatever he wanted

Tries to fight Bruce

Dismisses Tim

Cusses out Alfred

Then in Wayne Manor

Demands a laptop

Implied to have been insulting Alfred this whole time ("My patience for colorful insults is wearing thing")

Throws food at the wall

I think any one of these things might make the presumed comic reader slightly predisposed to disliking him. All of them at once is like. "He doesn't have the morals that the rest of the cast does (they want to fight crime, he doesn't). He wants Bruce's approval but does not verbally respect him. He has no regard for fan-favorite characters like Alfred or Tim". Pretty much trying to make him unlikeable for many readers.

It's also notable that even though Damian is a jerk to Tim and Alfred, the author never presents it as being justified. It's not like "this new character is a jerk to fan-favorties because I don't like them and want to put them down".

one complaint I often see is "Morrison doesn't like Tim", but I think it's notable that Tim is portrayed as someone who's supposed to be reasonable here. He tries to be friendly to Damian when Bruce introduces them, he offers to spar with Damian and "go easy on him", even if behind the scenes he does express frustration to Bruce.

Damian also isn't really portrayed as utterly trouncing Tim. Their actual fight scene:

Only lasts three pages, and for most of it Tim is not actually trying to fight back.

For a "Character is beat up by a 10 year old" that's a pretty gentle scene, in terms of competence of the character. He's trying to help. He's not fighting back seriously because he views Damian more as a kid than a threat. He's concerned about Alfred. I'm like jeez I wish the writers who hated Damian would be that gentle with not disparaging competence, putting in extenuating circumstances and him being genuinely concerned for people when something that wouldn't normally happen has to happen to further the plot.

Anyway - then when we do see injured Tim, the focus seems to be on the severity of the act. There's no downplaying it.

When Bruce finds Tim, he's horrified and angry at Damian ("You did this"), he keeps Damian with him because he's too dangerous to be left alone.

So it's pretty clear that Damian beating up Tim and intending to replace him is something intended to make him more unlikeable, not something to besmirch Tim.

Okay, so why is Damian an inconvenience rather than a villain?

Damian in general lacks the motive to be a villain here. He's not framed as someone who has a big master plan - that's Talia (framed badly by Morrison who retconned a lot of her character - but that's another post).

Meanwhile, this is what Bruce says about Damian

And when Damian is yelling about wanting stuff:

Even when Damian does attack and assault Tim, it's clearly not due to some larger plot, or even that he genuinely hates Tim and wants him dead, but the fact that in the place he was raised, that's what you did

And Damian is instantly ready to be on Bruce's side after his attempt to replace Tim fails:

Yeah you're not seeing a supervillain begging to be useful to Batman. It is pretty clear he's supposed to be read a disruptive, amoral kid.

Anyway, so comparison to Lonely Place of Dying:

Both comics start with the premise that the reader presumably likes the established characters. I already got into how much LOPD relies on the comic reader being a fan of Batman and Robin, but I think it's clear here that that's the case as well. Morrison does make plenty of references to the past (whether they understand them or not is a discussion for a different time) with Bruce's previous LIs, mischaracterizing Talia and Bruce's earlier relationship, the man-bat characters, what Bruce has been up to in the one year since Infinite Crisis. They also portray Tim as someone who is generally trying to help and competent, with 1 or 2 bits of realistic pettiness or annoyance thrown in (like him saying (privately, to Bruce) that Damian should earn Bruce's love and respect like everyone else - interestingly enough, a premise Damian does not disagree with), just not the main character of the narrative. And if you include this to other things that Morrison wrote with Tim (like some of the Black Glove plots) its clear Morrison is not trying to 'depower' tim or anything.

So Damian beefing with Tim and assaulting him and Alfred is another thing that makes him read as less likeable to the audience, rather than something that puts Tim and Alfred down. This contrasts greatly to how much Tim respects and admires Dick in LOPD. In both cases, the established character (Tim for Damian, Dick for Tim) has other things going on that justify why a new character might show them up or be useful/a threat. (I got into my post in LOPD about how they were careful to not let Tim 'show up' existing characters).

#dc comics #damian wayne #batman and son #comic meta #batman 1940 #robin #bruce wayne #batman #tim drake

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pickleking8 · 1 year ago

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Adoption Isn’t All It’s Cracked Up To Be ---- Chapter Four

Words: 1,107

Ao3 Link

Previous - Next - Masterpost

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Batman, Nightwing, Robin, Orphan, and Signal all turned to stare at Tim as he rushed into the cave with a haste that was usually only displayed in emergencies. Batman straightened, instantly alert.

“Red Robin, report. What’s the issue? Are you injured?” He spoke seriously, his tone leaving no room for hesitation or stalling. Tim gasped for breath, but quickly responded.

“Jason- Jason’s alive! I saw him, I found him, he’s alive!”, his sentences came out in a flurry, triumphant and eager. This, at least, solicited a response. Dick startled and audibly gasped. Damian sucked in a large breath of air, and Cass and Duke both simply stared, slack-jawed, before Cass dropped heavily into a nearby chair. Relative to their normal emotional states, Bruce reacted perhaps the most tellingly of all; drawing in a stuttering breath and taking a small step back, which was quite the show of emotion for the man.

Just after he finished speaking, Tim reached into one of his side pockets and pulled out a small plastic baggie with a flourish. While his family was still recovering from his first statement, he took the opportunity to explain in detail what had happened.

“I saw Jason, just the way he looked the night he- nevermind, I saw him, sitting on a rooftop just swinging his legs. He was looking up the whole time, so he didn’t see me, but it was him. And, get this, he was moving like he had a big injury on his chest, and I saw bandages, and he was covered in bruises. It’s gotta be him. It’s got to be him. And! I have proof,” he said, waving the little baggie around as he did so. By now, Tim was speaking so fast he could barely be understood, but his point was made. Jason was alive. And Tim had proof.

—----------------------

Bruce could hardly believe it. His baby. His baby boy. He was alive. He could look into his room and see him, not a silent, too perfect picture of what should have been.

But… it can’t be true. It can’t be. He knows that Jason is dead. He saw the body. He saw how it was broken and filled with cuts and bruises and didn’t fucking move. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t get up again. He saw how he failed to protect his son. He knows. He remembers the funeral. The burial. He knows that Jason’s body is in a polished grave with too perfect grass and a couple flowers strewn across the stone. He knows.

So, logically, this can’t be true. He can’t be alive, he can’t see his boy again, and Bruce can feel his anger rising at whatever sick prank Tim is pulling right now. Because that’s what this has to be, right? An awful, awful prank. The alternative, the idea, the hope that Jason is alive is too much to bear. Because he knows it can’t be real. And he doesn’t think he can stand having the hope crushed once more.

“...And! I have proof,” Tim finished, proudly presenting a little baggie with some scrap of cloth inside, and Bruce was quickly pulled out of his musings. Tim said he had proof. Proof was something Bruce could understand. Proof was concrete. Logical. It could make his Jason alive again. Bruce couldn’t let himself believe that, though. Not until he knew for sure. He wouldn’t hope. He hoped anyway, with all of his might.

“Tim. What is in the baggie? What is your proof?” he spoke, hoping, hoping, hoping beyond belief.

“Jason, he tore his hoodie, on an AC unit. This was the scrap. It’ll have his DNA! We can prove it, it can be him, it has to be him.”

And with that, Bruce was gone. Hooked. Sold. Utterly convinced. And amid the rising tumult of emotions, one coherent thought rose and sang over and over and over again.

He could have his boy back.

—-----------------------

Tim’s head hit the table with an audible thunk, and the others looked close to doing the same. They were all baffled. Jason’s DNA had come back completely corrupted; nothing was normal about it. If this was what was in his body, then Tim honestly had no idea how he was still walking around.

“It’s a complete dead-end, which I didn’t even know was possible for DNA testing. Whatever Jason is now, there’s something very wrong with him,” Tim spoke in a monotone, his voice tired and dejected, “His DNA seems to be corrupted with a substance that the Bat-Computer doesn’t recognize for any of the tests we’ve run so far, and we don’t have that many tests left to try.”

Everyone looked crushed, especially Bruce. He shouldn’t have hoped. But… there was one more thing to try. One more thing, that most of his children were oblivious to. With trepidation, Bruce walked up to the computer before leaning over and deftly typing a couple of codes. Within a couple of seconds, the computer dinged with an affirmative match. Tim’s eyebrows rose, and he craned his neck trying to see around Bruce. Turning to face everyone, when Bruce spoke his words were tense and clipped with anger.

“It’s Lazarus water. His DNA is corrupted with Lazarus water.”

Recognition flashed across Damian’s features, but everyone else shared glances of confusion.

Good, then, Tim thought, he wasn’t the only one who had no idea what that was. Bruce sighed.

“The Lazarus pits are, for lack of a better word, magical pits that are in the possession of the League of Assassins. We know very little about them or their properties, but we know that they’re powerful, apparently enough to bring Jason back. Why the League of Assassins would bring Jason back, I don’t know, but their involvement leaves me with no doubt that it’s him,” at this point in his speech, Bruce’s words seemed to swell, a near imperceptible note of happiness and hope present in his tone. His children listened with rapt attention, hanging off every word, “We can figure out why they did this later. Right now, Jason is alive. Right now, we need to work on getting him home.”

As they filed out of the Batcave, eager to share the news with everyone else, Tim glanced around at his family and found his eager, almost manic grin reflected on all their faces. He felt like laughing. The euphoria pressing down on all of them was infectious, all encompassing. As he left, a single thought was consuming his mind, screaming over and over again, and he was sure that it was shared by the rest of his family:

I’m coming for you, Jason.

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Next - Masterpost

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I hope y’all enjoyed this chapter, I wasn’t super happy with it, but hey, here we are. I was trying to make the Bats seem kind of obsessive/crazy for later in the fic, but I’m not sure if it landed, so... ah well. I would appreciate any constructive criticism, expecially for that last segment. Thank you for reading!

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Taglist: @tkiesai

#my fic #Danny Phantom #Jazz Fenton #Batman #Red Hood #Red Robin #I'm not sure how good that last segment was #I was trying to make the bats seem like #obsessive/crazy #but im not sure how it landed and I've been staring at it too long #anyway #dcxdp #dpxdc

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sevengraces · 1 year ago

Text

someday I'm gonna be somebody people want

You, ch2, Title Card

AO3 Link

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Tim slowly stiffened as he came back into himself. He was curled up in Jasons lap, with his head shoved under the older mans’ chin and his face buried in his neck. His hands were gripping the back of Jasons’ jacket like he belonged there and there were half dried tears all over the both of them. Jason had his arm wrapped around him and his other hand was running though his hair. Casually, he pressed a kiss onto the top of Tims’ hair, still speaking softly throughout it all.

-or-

Nobody ever deals well with loneliness, but certain people are probably worse at it and certain people probably deal with it more often. Tim is of course both of these people.

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Hello, this is complete and I might just post it all at once, we shall see lol. First DC post at all tbh, and I've read exactly one comic in my life and am not likely to read more so if you are a canon type of reader then you might not wanna be here. All character and such choices come from the first Red Robin comic and fanfiction, that is it. The fic title is from Noah Kahan "Come Over" and the chapter title is from Dodie "All My Daughters" - I picked the songs and lyrics for the titles from a playlist I made abt Tim Drake and these were the best fits for the fic lol, lemme know if you want more Tim Drake song recs cause I've got a shit ton.

(also if you're here for my series in progress I'm sorry- I promise it'll happen just maybe not for awhile, it hasn't been my special interest in a hot minute so this is what you're getting rn lol)

CW's/TW's:

panic attacks negative self talk/low self esteem swearing vomit mentions of canon typical violence suicidal thoughts --- that should be all but as always let me know if I missed something

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Chapter 1- I'll grow the bones myself then, on my own again

Tim has pretty much always known, in the way that clever children tend to know things, that there is possibly something wrong with how his parents raised him. Objectively an eleven year old shouldn’t know to lie about who is and isn’t home to avoid trouble, but being alone suited him. It was convenient and necessary and normal and understandable and utterly, utterly miserable. But growing up a lonely child suited him in the same way that grief suited Batman, terrible but necessary.

Batman has only gotten better at grief and Tim thinks, as an emancipated minor in the silence of his blank apartment with big windows and echoey walls, that perhaps he has perfected the art of the lonely child.

Regardless of how suited he is to isolation, he knows he grows maudlin the longer it lasts. It’s a poor excuse for his weak will, but as he stands in his sparkling penthouse kitchen silently making his third cup of coffee this morning he considers.

Tim braces his elbows on the solid marble countertop with his eyes closed to the harsh fluorescent lights and the echoes of his mothers’ sharp nails in his arm and he considers picking up the phone. He could call someone- anyone at all, in an effort to avoid this sinking sensation he’s fled from since he was nine years old with nothing but everything he’d ever needed and a camera to keep him sated. Someone might even answer, depending on who he called.

It is ten in the morning on an entirely unremarkable Saturday. The sun is resting comfortably in the sky, his phone is fully charged, he knows where everyone he has ever cared about is, and he could call anyone.

Tim opens his eyes and stretches out an arm across the countertop towards his phone, hesitating slightly before making contact but pushing through nonetheless. He flicks it on and ignores every single notification with the heavy awareness that not a single one of them is from anyone who actually wants to talk to him, he taps through the apps before reaching the dial screen and he places the phone face up on the countertop and breathes.

He stands straight from where he had been bent over, carrying his coffee with him through the rest of the kitchen. He doesn’t open the fridge, there’s nothing in there anyways. Tim takes even steps until he reaches the far window of the living room where he leans against it and slides down slowly.

Once he’s rested against the floor with his fresh coffee cradled in his hands he leans his head against the cool glass and considers his options.

He could call Cass, she’d probably answer him. Mostly because he never calls unless there’s a world ending disaster, but she would answer him. After the hurried reassurance that “No Cass, nothings wrong- I just wanted to talk” she would probably let him ramble on about whatever he could come up with for awhile before she pointed out in that simple, honest way of hers that they didn’t talk like this and she knows he didn’t call just to make small talk. She would stare at his face through the screen and wait for his explanation, she would stare and wait for him to lie. Once he did, because he always did- what else could he even do? She would watch his body tense, she would follow the lines of anxiety like a roadmap, until every petty insecurity was written plain as sin on his face. And then she would accept the lie like it didn’t hurt, like she didn’t know. They would talk and maybe even have an okay time, then something would happen in Hong Kong and she’d have to go or WE would explode in some new way and he would have to go. Either way the call would end and Tim would be alone again in his pristine, lifeless apartment except this time someone else would know how badly he wanted to claw off his skin in the hopes of finding whatever was deeply wrong with him.

Tim laughed like a rusty hinge and took a sip of coffee. To no fault of her own, Cass couldn’t help him- he ignored the fact that the only solid feeling he’d had in days was that nothing and no one could help him.

There was always someone a little less discerning, like Dick. The man could flay him alive, but it would be entirely unintentional and oblivious on his part. He could call Dick and he might answer. Of course it was a Saturday morning so he was probably either asleep or with Damian, and Tim didn’t want to wake him up or deal with the building tension as he waited for Dick to hang up because the demon brat needed something at that exact minute. There was the chance he was hanging out by himself at his own apartment in Bludhaven, but even Tim could only intrude on the older mans’ personal space and time so often. No, Tim knew with a bone deep certainty that he could not handle this call going to voicemail or being cut short because Tim was the easiest burden to leave behind.

He carefully placed his coffee mug on the floor next to him and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, watching the spots burst into being and fade out slowly.

For obvious reasons he wasn’t going to call Damian. For all that he was eleven years old and impossible to deal with, Tim didn’t want to be the type of person who needed a teenager to regulate his emotions for him. The boy knew how that felt first hand- and even if he’d walked into Robin with his eyes open to the consequences, he’d been pushed out with his eyes a little wider and his chest a little hollower for more reasons than most wanted to believe. No matter how snot nosed the demon brat was, that kid had spent too long playing at being an adult and he deserved better than that from Tim, at least. Tim doggedly ignored the fact that he himself had only been a little older than Damian is now when he’d yanked on the mantle with two hands and the determination of a desperate child, he also ignored the fact that Damian would skin him alive for thinking such thoughts even tangentially to thoughts of the boy himself.

The seventeen year old grabbed blindly for his coffee and took a long drink. He had a feeling he knew exactly where this thought exercise was going, but Tim had never been one to give up. Not when he really should, not when it would’ve been easier for everyone involved, and not when it was pointless. He had been good at the suspension of disbelief long before he’d joined the crusade, and he was loathe to break a bad habit.

If not Cass, Dick, or Damian to call- there was always Jason. Tim choked back a snort and stared at the empty wall next to the front door, yes there was always Jason. It was maybe a little unfair to think so poorly of the older boy, but it was too easy for Tim to think highly of him and he had fallen from those heights a few times more often than he’d care to admit. It wasn’t that Jason wasn’t kind or even that he was unwilling to talk to Tim these days, it was more-so that he’d never stopped trying to impress the older man and peeling back his flesh to show Jason the slimy, unlikable parts and then ask to be coddled was a level of desperate that he shuddered to think of reaching. Of course Jason had never been one to coddle Tim in general, which was a generous way of putting it. But despite it all, Jason was a good person and lately seemed if not interested in Tim then vaguely affectionate towards the concept of him- he would probably answer on principle. But how was Tim to even start that conversation? “Hi Jason, I know we literally only talk when we’re working or when Dick gets it in his head that all of us being Robin at some point means something, but I was wondering if you would talk with me about something that wasn’t either mutually traumatizing or how much you hate me. Why? So that I can pretend that someone would choose to be around me, that’s all.” Yeah probably not the best idea he’s had to date.

Tim chewed his lips and pretended that his breathing wasn’t getting heavier the shorter his list of options got. He barreled forward with his mug between his feet and his head between his knees.

Alfred had never once refused a call, with the only recompense being the subtle implications that he really ought to join them for dinner more often. Tim could call Alfred and the man would answer. He would answer and reserve judgement, even more- he would be perfectly willing to bring Tim up to speed on everything he’d missed since the two had last spoken. He would fill him in like it was nothing and with no disapproval to be heard. Alfred was really his best option but nonetheless the boy refused to move towards his phone, still face up and turned on across the room. Alfred had never turned down any overtures of companionship, at least not since Tim had been allowed into the circle as Robin, but he’d also never really reached out to him of his own volition. Tim had always told himself it was the older mans sense of propriety, but what if it was that same sense of propriety that kept him on the line? Tim was lonely, sure, but he didn’t want to take advantage of the fact that Alfred had been attached to the Wayne name for longer than even Bruce had been alive and Tim had latched onto the family like a burr or a mold. The boy wasn’t sure he could handle being placated either, he’d met plenty of people employed under his parents and if today was the day Tim noticed how similar their vacant indulgence was to Alfreds’ steadfast professionalism he would probably break in irreparable ways.

He forcibly calmed his breathing and glared at the mug between his ankles. He ignored how that feeling from earlier had strengthened and barricaded itself in his chest and was making it hard to focus on his heartbeats.

There was Stephanie, one of his oldest and long-lasting companions. He could call her but she was pretty likely to be busy and thus not answer or be rightfully angry and thus not answer. He would have no way of knowing except that he knew which one was most likely if only based on historical precedence. He had been a bad boyfriend but a better friend- that of course didn’t mean much, it wasn’t a particularly hard bar to clear after all. Even disregarding all of their history, Tim hadn’t really spoken to Steph since blowing into town with ninjas on his heels and animosity between them a mile wide. They still hadn’t really sat down and talked about everything from her death, the gang war, and his radio silence during his search for Bruce. It felt wrong to call her up like none of that had happened and she still wanted him around as anything other than a competent yet obnoxious coworker.

The thought of Steph ached like a bruise and that pain only compounded the marching drumbeat in his chest that called out in gleeful tones "Not wanted, not wanted" and so Tim snuffed it like the wick of a bomb and moved onward once more.

Babs was always available, somehow. She made a point to keep a line open for any capes in the Gotham area no matter how frosty the personal relationship had gotten. But that was for professional things, and Tim didn’t know if he could deal with reaching out to her for comfort only for her to remind him exactly how they’d left things. He’d had a case related theory- Bruce wasn’t dead. Dick had disagreed, Barbara had disagreed, everyone had disagreed. Tim had pushed and Dick had taken it both personally and poorly, that moved things from a professional dispute between allies to a personal spat between the nosy neighbor and her long time closest companion. There was no version of reality where Babs chose Tim over Dick, honestly there probably wasn’t a version of reality where anyone chose Tim over anyone they even vaguely liked- let alone loved. It would be absurd to expect her to push past how he’d hurt Dick, even though he’d been right, and it was impossible for Tim to push past how she’d left him to fend for himself out of spite despite the fact that he should’ve expected it and known better.

Tim was trying hard not to catastrophize, he knew that was what it was actually called when he came up with one thousand plans with ten backup versions each, but it was so tempting to script his conversations so that nothing could go wrong. It was nearly fool proof and most of the time it felt like it was almost worth the consequence of looking in the mirror and having his gaze drawn to how his mothers eyes and bone structure fit comfortably on his face. There was always the chance that someone would see his railroading for what it was, but Young JustUs and Steph had been the only people to do so in any meaningful way.

There was nothing stopping him from call Kon, Bart, or Cassie. Well, that was almost true- Kon would answer but he had better things to do than hold his hand through the consequences of his self-imposed isolation. The super was just barely on good terms with Clark and testing the waters of a brotherly relationship with Jon- he had actual, real problems to deal with that didn’t have anything to do with the sort of best friend that had gone insane when he died and tried to clone him back to life. Bart was in a similar boat in that he definitely shouldn’t have to help someone who was somehow less emotionally adjusted than him handle reality. The speedster was beginning to settle back into this time period, and seemed to be believing in the permanence of it in a way he hadn’t before he’d died. Tim didn’t need to shake that up just because he was coping poorly with his own decisions. Cassie was an entirely different situation that Tim was in no way equipped to handle with competency. How do you ask your ex-girlfried/bestfriend/group life partner to tell you she still cares about you when your last proper conversation was her telling you how insane you’d gone and you telling her that you didn’t need her anymore- you don’t, that’s how.

Even though Young JustUs had been prepared to be together until the heat death of the universe, Tim should’ve known better than to hang his hopes on something as flimsy as that. People simply didn’t stay with Tim, which was something he’d learned at the age of ten when his parents had skipped every holiday that year (and his birthday) without comment or apology, he just knew that ten year old would be embarrassed at how far he’d fallen just because some people had been nice to him for a little while. He should’ve known better then and he did know better now.

Bruce was alive and in the correct time so he should be an option, but even Tim wasn’t that delusional. The man was still settling into the modern day and his new family dynamics that had changed without him. True, he was Batman again and Damian was his Robin- but the demon brat still deferred to Dick more often than not and Dick was a little too smug about such preferential treatment to discourage it in any meaningful way. Not that Dick was particularly good at discouraging the boy of any behaviors even when he didn’t enjoy the results but, water and bridges and such. Bruce was chafing under his performative authority and thus going on some sort of family building kick as a consequence. He would definitely answer, but Tim wasn’t sure he could withstand any sort of relationship they built getting thrown to the side once this little tantrum ended. This call would mean too much to Tim and be nothing more than bragging rights or blackmail for Bruce, there was a reason he was the bottom of the list.

Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne was sitting on the floor of his perfect apartment with his head between his knees and a recently emptied coffee mug next to him when he realized, with a sharp exhale like a punch to the gut, that it didn’t matter.

He shot up from his perch, kicking the mug across the room to shatter against the wall, and he laughed. He laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe. He laughed so hard he choked and shook and began to sob. Here he was, freaking out in his stupid apartment in ways he hadn’t since the first time his parents left him home alone for more than a week, and for what reason? He had known this little spectacle wouldn’t mean anything but tears in the end, what was his fascination with self-torture that he’d needed to break it down on a person by person basis like it wasn’t a foregone conclusion as of four years ago when he’d wedged his way into this doomed mission with nothing but empty hands and spite. His sobbing picked up volume and his breathing got sharper.

In some distant way Tim was aware that he was having a panic attack. A pretty bad one, if the crying and shaking had anything to say about it. But in that same distant way he didn’t really care. He was watching himself choke on his tears so hard that he had to curl over and vomit on the hardwood floors and he couldn’t bring himself to feel any type of way about it. What did it matter if he choked to death on his vomit in this perfect, sterile penthouse all by himself? Wasn’t it a little poetic, in a morbid sort of way?

If it wasn’t for the fact that Janet Drake had no physical choice, she would’ve skipped his birth just like his father had- she probably would’ve avoided his birth happening all together if they’d had their way. They’d left him alone as soon as they could get away with it, and he’d wasted away his years waiting for them to come back and acknowledge that they had a son. Wouldn’t it be ironic if he died choking on the physical manifestation of his loneliness in an apartment that reminded him too much of his childhood home to ever be comfortable?

Tim- not Drake or Wayne, just Tim-Nobodies-Son, spread out on his freezing floors and tried to breathe through the suddenly overwhelming urge to see if a second fall from a window would do the job. He tried to beat back the echoing voice that seemed to emanate from the middle of his chest, that had graduated from “not wanted” to “never wanted”, because he could see the next escalation coming from a mile away and he knew there was nobody there to stop it but him- like always. And ever so slowly his tears dried, tacky and embarrassing, and his shame returned to him like his coffee had just a moment ago.

He sighed loud and long, “What am I even doing? I’m lucky dad is dead- at least he doesn’t get to see exactly how right he was.”

As the boy kneaded the tension from his forehead he noticed a clicking sound that, in hindsight, had been echoing around his walls for quite awhile.

And then Jason Todd, in all his murderous glory, was standing in his doorway with lock picks in hand and an unreadable expression on his face.

#fanfic #tim drake #dc universe #batman #red robin #Jason Todd #mentioned batfamily #hurt/comfort #grace is writing

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icarussometimes · 2 years ago

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alright i’ll bite. what are your (wrong and incorrect <3) batfam hair headcanons

uhhh okso. goddamn this is gonna be long, here is a cut for your health and safety <3

bruces hair has been 100% the same 100% of his life. maybe he had it like a little longer for like a year when he was 20 but that was IT. back to default right afterwards. hes like the settings ur videogame character is on when u open up customization

dick is fortunately a bit more interesting. he had the cute floppy little boy haircut until he was in like his mid teens and then he was like imma grow it out and he did. by the time discowing era rolled around it was LONG long, and he did in fact have a short but traumatic (mainly to bruce, poor man) period with a mullet. post-discowing he figured out what to do with it and settled into a style around shoulder length with lotsa layers so it does that 80s shag surfer rockstar thing. he was later a firm supporter of the covid era shag/wolf cut revival. looks fucking stunning, no doubt he is the supermodel of the fam. chefs kiss

jasons hair is curly (!! i am very particular about this! he has curls) and was pretty short before he met bruce, for easy keeping, and that obviously all the same length sorta look where u can tell it was buzzed at some point. when he’s robin obviously hes got the heart bangs and is just adorable all around. the one thing ur right about is that it gets long when he’s in zombie mode and they shave it in the league. i think in his red hood era he learns to cut his own hair and experiments with lotsa fun stuff like punk hairstyles and shaved sides and at one point a little mini mullet which he somehow pulls off. once or twice he probably bleaches the not-white-streak parts of his hair to try to make it blend in, and goes thru all the weird growing out stages after that. its an all around fun time, and he pulls off way more weird hairstyles than he has any right to tbh

tims hair is very very straight and for most of his childhood and early teen years its in a pretty basic short sides long top sorta cut, low maintenance and fine-looking. he dyes it blue once when hes like 14 and that’s the only time he ever does anything intentional and interesting with his hair, because to him it’s pretty much just a chore. when all the red hood shit starts going down theres a period where he goes full what-is-self-care mode for, like, many months and thus his hair grows out enough for like a tiny scruffy ponytail. its like very badly taken care of tho bc my boy doesnt have TIME to shower, bruce, youre not my REAL dad. once jason and damian both mostly stop trying to murder him on sight, he starts taking care of his hair, but i firmly believe that (for a while at least) he decides not to cut it. YES long haired tim. fight me. i think it’s almost always up, in various buns and braids, and dami and the girls (steph and cass, i mean) really love it which tim finds utterly baffling. but my boy needs to be loved more. cass calls his hair beautiful and he turns into a puddle of goo and doesnt stand up for like 2 days

dami keeps his hair short (not buzzed, but short) while in the league, and when he moves to gotham there’s a period of a couple months where he decides to try to be mini bruce. but bruces hair is kinda hard to recreate and looks a bit silly on him, and also every single one of his family members wont stop MUSSING IT so eventually he gives up and learns to tolerate his normal (if spiky) tweenage hair.

steph is our token blonde but we love her. i think she was one of those girls who decided at like 9 that she wanted to grow her hair out REALLY long, and was like moderately successful at it to the chagrin of most adults in her life (because long hair is SO HIGH MAINTENANCE). not long before her tenure as robin she gets sick of it and chops it to like,,,, idk, armpit length? yeeah. and later in her teens she has a whole cycle (or two) of bangs, she flipflops like weekly on whether she likes the way bangs look on her or not. she usually does them herself, and (everyone but her knows) she rocks them every time

cass i think had longer hair when she was doing the assassin gig, mainly ao it could be tied back, but as soon as she had more agency she went “nope” and chopped it to her normal short bob and has kept it that way ever since.

the one other thing u were right about i think is that duke has had the same hair his entire life, that just sounds correct lmao

anyways thats it, totally open to debating with you but just know that i am correct <3

#batsy #sorry its so fuckin long #praise all ye who ask

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secondarycreatures · 2 months ago

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Kingdom of the Vampires

A Kim Mingyu vampire fic

Everything was a storm, lately. Clothes were scattered around the room and dishes were piled high in the sink, reflecting the state of your mind. You couldn’t even move and you hadn’t showered in a day and a half. You laid in bed, completely and utterly depressed. You hadn’t even talked to your boyfriend, Mingyu in two days. Tears spill from your eyes, your chest filled with heavy baggage. Vampires had a word for this: Soulthrow. A perfect word for a terrible condition. The depression eats away at your soul and you know Mingyu would like to talk, but you’ve been too sad to talk. When your medicine stops working every now and then, you go into hibernation, where you sleep for many hours and sit on the couch, feeling extremely low. You chew on your snack, fritos, and much, thinking about how low you are feeling. Soulthrow was absolutely horrendous. Many vampires had felt it. You weren’t a vampire yourself, but your boyfriend, Mingyu was.

You remember when you first met your boyfriend, one of his friends, was going through the same thing. Tim, his name is.

“Tim, you can make it through this. Soulthrow isn’t enough for vampires, remember. There is more to life than this.” You heard Mingyu say over the phone. You loved the way he spoke to his friend about Soulthrow. He really had a way of talking to his friends, family and you that lit up your heart like someone had lit a match inside of you. Comfort filled your soul as you remember this.

You message him. “Hey, Ming, sorry I’ve been AWOL for a couple days. Soulthrow has been hitting me hard. Can’t get up and can’t move.”

In about two minutes, he responds that he is coming over. Just thinking about how your mate was coming over, lifted your sad spirit up, way, way, way off the ground. Mingyu was your Bloodmate, after all. It was normal to feel so high when he said he was coming over. Ever since 1000, B.C. vampires have had Bloodmates, which is what the Kingdom calls a vampire’s one true love. Again, you weren’t a vampire, but you liked to call him that. And it lifted your depression to call him that over and over in your head. You don’t know what you would do if King Austin wouldn’t accept your relationship. Because only the king of the vampires could allow relationships. It sunk you deeper into sadness to think about how he wouldn’t allow it, so you didn’t think about it.

Depression is funny. You can be lifted out of it and brought back into it by certain things, and it takes a special person to bring you out of it completely.�� Ming knocks on the door and you lift your probably smelly self off the couch (you haven’t showered in a day and a half). But you knew he wouldn’t mind. Oh, to feel his arms around you again.

He gave you the biggest smile you had ever seen when you opened the door. It blew your mind how beautiful it made him look; someone who was already beautiful without smiling. You wrapped your arms around his body, his arms wrapping around your back, sliding up the back of your shirt, which is something he liked to do. He enjoyed feeling your skin on his, it made him feel good. Your skin was different than his, it held more warmth and comfort than his, he often thought. And his skin? It smelled like vanilla cupcakes, as vampires often smelled like. The smell drew you closer to him, it was like sugar up your nostrils, his scent. Strange, really, that they smelled like that, because they were so often covered in blood. It’s just like that in this world, that they smelled so good. He and them certainly never smelled dead.

“I missed you.” He said as you pulled away, but you didn’t let go of him, holding onto his arm. He turns to you and his lips collide with yours, bringing you further out of your depression. It was like kissing a God, you thought to yourself. Kissing him was that powerful. It was like being lit on fire when your lips touched, and you suddenly found yourself craving his body on top of yours. But, sex would have to wait. You pull away from your Bloodmate, and smile at him, even though smiling is way far away from your mind.

He puts his arm around your shoulders and pulls out a purple card from his sweatshirt pocket. He smiles as he hands it to you. You look at it and it nearly makes you cry.

I love you, is written on the front of the pink colored card in light blue around some green flowers painted with watercolors. You open it. Inside is a picture of you and him on your first date, with heart stickers stuck to it.

“My love, my wonderful bloodmate, this card is for you. I remember our first date. You looked so beautiful and you told me I was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. That was the best night of my entire life.I had never had such fun in the thousand years I had been living. I never imagined someone so beautiful could become my mate. I told you that night, that from that night, I would look after you with all my soul and heart, knowing we both knew we had found our mate. I will look after you with all my soul and heart knowing Soulthrow has come for you. Hopefully, this picture reminds you of better day, and of course, reminds you of my love for you and how things can be better with me in the picture. I love you so, so, much.”

A tear falls from your eye and you kiss him once more, your lips colliding.

You pull away from him, and look straight into his beautiful eyes. Your soul has been lit up with fireworks after reading the card. He’s never said I love you before now. He’s never said anything so sweet.

“Thank you, Mingyu. I love you, too. So much.”

He smiles and takes your hand, leading you to the bedroom, where when you get there, he lights a candle and you lay together.

“Still depressed now that I am here?” He asks.

“Yes, but at the same time, I feel less sad.”

He smiles. “Good. Now, how about a shower?”

I nod. He takes off his shirt and rips off yours, bringing you to his body, lips colliding. Heat fills the room as you continue to kiss. He moves his hand down your back and you move your hand down his chest. When he pulls away, you are left breathless. He pulls down his pants, showing you his boxers. You pull them down and see his hard penis and beautiful butt. He walks with you, hand in hand, towards the shower. You look at his body the entire walk there. As you shower, you watch him wash himself, hands going over his beautiful, god-like body. He runs his hands through your hair and kisses your cheek. You begin to have sex.

_________

You both collapse against the shower wall, feeling super high, as if you’ve both just taken a whole bunch of drugs. That handjob and that sex was your drug of choice. Him moving inside of you was the best thing to happen to you all week.

“That was a drug.” You say to him.

“Amazing, right?” He says to you.

“Yes, absolutely amazing.”

You lean on his chest, smirking at the spot of white on the sheets.

“You made a mess.”

“I’ll always make a mess with you.”

“My dirty boy.”

“Look, at you, already making me hard again.”

You look at his member, and sure enough, he is hard as a rock.

You get dressed and Mingyu puts some pants on, making lunch, shirtless. You watch him, with lust. Such a beautiful chest. Seriously, did a God make this man?

You feel sadness sweep over you as, while he is cooking, he receives a phone call from the King.

“Hi, Ming. How are you? Soulthrow far away from you?”

“Yes, I am doing well. Very well, since I’ve found my mate.”

I smile.

“Well, I am glad to hear that. I’ve heard stories about you and your mate, from what I hear she’s perfect for you. But I’ll have to see her to believe it. Are you coming to the meeting tonight?” It’ll be in Gladstone. Major Coups will head it. Be ready.”

“Yes, I’ll be there.”

“Oh, and her soulthrow? I can feel it from over the phone and it’s killing my vibe. Talk about it at the meeting tonight and let’s see if the pharmacist can prescribe something.”

“She already has a med supplier-

“A vampire something, Ming. Let’s see if Harry can whip something up.”

Harry is the lead psychiatrist and med prescriber for the Kingdom. He uses herbs and unconventional medicine to give to the vampires for their various mental health issues and other ailments.

“Ah, okay. Yes, that would be great. I am not sure her medicine is working correctly anymore.”

“Well, what is she on?”

I give him the names and he tells the King.

“One of those is an SSRI, which should combat depression in humans. But if she is still suffering from it, another SSRI may be prescribed. Harry has some wellbutrin and other SSRI’s in the house which may help, although he doesn’t usually give out pills, just herbals. That’s not an SSRI, so Y/N may not want it. Harry may try ketamine for her, which is put in through the nose or intravenously at the house. Although addictive, it works really well to treat Soulthrow. He can try that. I’ll let him know about her Soulthrow, but you’ll have to tell him more. Bring her with you, okay?”

“But-

“Just bring her with you okay.”

“Okay, thanks for the helpful info about the medicine. She’ll have to look into it.”

I get on the internet soon after and look up some of these medicines. All of them look fine, but I don’t know what to use. I don’t know what side effects they have and how they will affect me. The SSRI’s seem to be the most helpful.

——----------------------------

Hand in hand, Mingyu and you walk into the mansion at Gladstone.

“I know you’re scared, love. But Austin will eventually accept us. Or I’ll kill him.”

“No need to do that-

“I’ve killed before, I’ll do it again-

“Please. If he doesn’t accept, we’ll find a way. We have to.” I say.

He squeezes my hand.

“You’re right.”

We both look at the mansion, not feeling hopeful at all. There are yellow lights set up like sharp teeth, which would make any human question who lives here. The mansion is painted white with a green balcony, and red shutters (no surprise there) and a brown roof. Gray gargoyles perch on the sides of the roof. There are two guesthouses to the sides, both light blue with red shutters. We are both amused by the fake blood splatter decals on the glass of the front windows. A statue of Dracula, with fangs and his signature black cape is next to the steps. Three black bat ornaments hang from the three bushes out front. You touch one and it screams. You jump back and let out a shriek.

Coups opens up the door, laughing hysterically. Mingyu glares at him. Your heart is beating faster than it ever has. Phew, you thought it was real for a second there.

He stops laughing immediately. “Human.”

He says coldly.

The rest of the vampires crowd at the door, sniffing the air. “Human! Human! Human!”

They all cry out in unison, delight written on all their faces. They all run out the door, when a protective Mingyu, kicks out his feet, crying out, “Stay away from her! She’s my mate!”

The two that he kicked fall to the ground and he punches the rest. Coups approaches, fangs popping out.

Mingyu brings his arm around my shoulder. I am panicking.

“No, no, no, this simply will not do-

“Put away your fangs, you’re scaring her.”

He rolls his eyes and puts them away.

“This is your mate?” A human? Austin will not be pleased, not pleased at all-

“That’s not fair!” His mate is originally a human.” I cry out.

“Even a pathetic human like you knows the rules. Unless turned, like his mate was, vampires aren’t allowed to be in a relationship with humans.” He says, with a chuckle.

“I won’t do it.” He says.

“You know he won’t allow it.”

“No, I most certainly will not.” Says a cold voice from behind them.

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kizzer55555 · 10 months ago

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At first, the Waynes acted like their normal selves towards Danny. Then when they realized he was not phased at all and almost seemed to be getting closer to them as friends (the real them), they start panicking and start actively trying to drive him off. They up their dramatics by 100 and meanwhile, Danny is just sipping coffee and like “so you want me to turn these papers in by next Monday or next Tuesday?”

“How DARE you speak to me PEASANT. I have no interest in your frivolous affairs. You should be GRATEFUL I allow you in my mere presence. Now repent by getting on your knees and licking my feet for that is where you belong you SWINE. You utter trash of a human being!”

Loooong sip of cofffee.

“Great, so Monday.”

Just, Dick trying to act so dumb he frustrates Danny (tough luck, he grew up with Jack Fenton), only to end up with a super supportive friend who goes out of his way to make worksheets easy to understand and listen to what Dick is saying. Even going on tangents for random stuff he brings up. He even managed to make Dick slip up and make a bad pun darn it! He even laughed and made a worse pun!

Tim tries to find out everything he can from this kid to creep him out except he’s like, the most boring person in the entire world. Small town he grew up in, bullied. Average grades (yes, Clockwork helped Danny with his cover which is why no one noticed he was Phantom yet). So boring it’s almost suspicious yet every search ends up the same. He even took a vacation to go to Amity and meet everyone. He then started researching and listing his diet, favorite colors, favorite animal, hobbies, crushes, friends, blood type, everything he can think of. And when he casually mentions it in conversation? Danny’s just like awww, that’s so nice that you care to remember those things about me. Thank you! And Tim is just bashing his head into a table (also, some at Wayne enterprises are now convinced Tim has crush. He doesn’t but it’s still funny).

And Damian? Absolute drama queen. Kicking up his ‘holier than thou’ routine to the highest it’s ever been. He no longer has a leash. Daniel is too nice and understanding he must be put in his place. His spirit must be utterly crushed and destroyed.

a few days later…..

IS THIS KID A MASOCHIST?! He’s just…completely unaffected. Nothing he does works! (Danny has had his entire existence declared illegal. Called all sorts of degrading and inhuman names followed by threats of dissection by his own parents. You think this little pipsqueak can phase him? Aww, look how cute he is when he tries to be threatening!)

Prompt : The Mean Girls of Wayne Enterprises

Hear me out…. Mean Girls but make it DCxDP.

The public personas that the bats present, modeled after “Brucie” Wayne are the perfect templates for Mean Girls shenanigans.

Imagine : Our favourite ghost boy has decided to venture out into the world after making sure that Amity would be safe and secure (perks of being the recently crowned King). Danny knows he’d never pass the physical tests to be an astronaut but that doesn’t mean he can’t at least achieve part of his space dream. He’d done his research, very thoroughly at that, and overall it was Wayne Enterprises that came out on top. Their aerospace department was miles ahead of the competition - presumably something to do with Bruce Wayne literally being the one funding the Justice League (and if rumour is to be believed, the OG sugar daddy for a certain Bat).

Disregarding Danny’s personal feelings about the JL, the chance to create technology that will be used in SPACE, for space exploration and understanding was too good to pass up.

Just the thought alone filled him with a sense of contentment. Thankyou space obsession.

Which is what had lead to the current situation - an internship at Wayne Enterprises itself. How he landed it, he has no clue - sure, he’s got some smarts (much more than he’ll give himself credit for) but his grades had suffered from his years of literally saving the city (and by extension, the world). Perhaps it was fate? Or more likely, a meddling time god…

Danny wasn’t complaining though.

Only three hours in to the position and he was barely containing his excitement - literally, the fulfillment of his secondary obsession, regardless of how second hand it might be, created such a buzz in his core. He was having to consciously stop his more ghostly attributes from shining through - not even metaphorically shining, damn you LED freckles (yes we’re using the concept of Danny’s ghost from reflecting his love of space - constellation freckles and all)

Now though, he had been released to break in the cafeteria. There was a panicked moment of ‘oh shit, where do I sit?’ But thankfully, his (half) life was saved by one of his new coworkers calling him over with a friendly wave.

“Hey, Daniel, right?”

“I go by Danny but yeah, thanks for the save there” a awkward laugh at his own words, “didn’t expect it to feel like high school all over again”

There’s polite laughter amongst the table and the conversation flows over to casual small talk. At least, it does until out of nowhere, all eyes jump to the doors.

Enter : The Plastics.

Richard Grayson - the dumbest guy you’ll ever meet.

“Once, he asked me why aster isn’t the opposite of disaster”

Timothy Drake - knows everything about everyone.

“That’s why his eyebags are so big - they’re full of secrets”

And the queen bee, Damian Wayne.

“Once he called me an uncultured swine… it was awesome”

(I don’t know what’s better - Damian aged up to match Danny or tiny Damian being Regina)

What follows is a comedic story: Danny meeting the three, them assuming he’s going to be out of touch being from the Midwest (he is but only in the sense that his version of normal is Fenton dumbfuckery) , him eventually getting past their public personas by just not giving a shit for their drama - he grew up with the QUEEN of mean girls, the Wayne boys have nothing on Paulina Sanchez.

Just, Mean girls Waynes… that’s it - that’s the post.

#Dpxdc #dcxdp

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elowenp · 3 years ago

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“What do you want?” Barbara asks, voice crackling with static.

It’s a silly question. Tim wants crime rates to go down. Tim wants Gotham to be a safer city. Tim wants to be a part of making that happen.

“A code name that isn’t stupid.” he says instead.

Barbara sighs. It doesn’t sound like a sigh though. It just sounds like the static’s getting louder.

“Bernard Dowd, scholar of the ages.” Tim laughs, arm slung round Bernard's shoulder. “I thought you were meant to be the fun one?”

“I am.” Bernard groans, “as soon as these exams are done I’ll be back to the usual student life. Getting drunk, going on dates, Gotham won’t know what’s hit it.”

“Going on dates?” Tim asks jokingly, even as a well hidden part of him turns slightly panicked. “Any successes an old friend should be hearing about?”

“Not really.” Bernard shrugs, jostling Tim’s arm. “Just a couple of girls I was better off friends with.” He pauses, thinking, before continuing with his voice involuntarily going a little higher. “Couple of guys too.”

“Huh.” Tim suddenly becomes very aware of all the places where his arm is touching Bernard. He doesn’t move it. “Better luck next time.”

Huh.

Tim’s been avoiding Dick. He’s been awkward around him lately, Tim thinks that Barbara must have said something. He’s not stupid enough to have done something to send Dick spiralling without noticing it.

“What do you want?” Dick asks, curious, without warning.

Tim wants to ask if Barbara put him up to this but he knows it’s a genuine question. Dick isn’t manipulative like that, not with family.

What does Tim want? Isn’t it a little late for Dick go be asking that question? All the things that happened after Bruce’s death put a canyon of distance between them. It’s slowly been growing smaller but it hasn’t disappeared. Neither of them have had time enough to spend together for that to happen.

An awful, bitter part of Tim that hasn’t stopped screaming since Robin wasn’t his any more wonders if Dick would even be asking if Damian wasn’t out of town right now.

“For us to go train surfing.” Tim says. Petty. Just so Dick will say no and his anger can feel righteous instead of ill-deserved.

“Okay.” Dick says instead. Easy and confident. Himself.

“Oh.” Tim’s anger fizzles into non-existence. “Okay.”

The canyon grows a little smaller.

“We should go to a skatepark.” Bernard says, a little giggly from the beer in his hand.

There’s a matching beer in Tim’s hand although it’s still practically full. If there’s an emergency he’ll be of no use drunk. “What? Why?”

“Why not? You were so good in high school! And you had fun doing it.” Bernard’s tone turns a little less giggly. “You should do more things you find fun.”

Tim is surprised enough that the “Okay.” slips out of his lips unbidden.

So maybe the beer bottle is a little less full than he’d like to admit.

They borrow a board from one of Bernard's flatmates and catch a bus to a skate park Tim remembers using when he was younger. As they go Tim tries to remember why he stopped. He tries to remember when he stopped. He can’t recall the answer to either question and annoyance rises in his chest over it.

Then Bernard is saying something and it has Tim snorting with laughter and he forgets his irritation.

Once they arrive Bernard settles himself at the top of one of the ramps like it’s a throne. “Entertain me!” he calls, “Impress me with your wheel-board magic.

Tim manages a kick-flip on his first attempt and Bernard makes a loud noise of approval.

A lot of stuff comes back to Tim fairly quickly. Most of skateboarding had been muscle memory for him and that’s something that being a vigilante hadn’t exactly hindered. As things return to him he regains some faint memories of why he’d stopped. Nothing specific, just that feeling of not having enough time. Of thinking that going to the skatepark wasn’t a particularly useful way to spend his hours while there was still real work to be done.

Tim’s always been a vigilante first, but he thinks there must have been a point when that wasn’t the only thing he was. Well, when it wasn’t the only thing he was that mattered.

“Come on!” Bernard shouts, teeth flashing white against Gotham’s grey-black sky. “I was promised entertainment!”

Tim laughs. He seems to do that a lot around Bernard these days.

He starts moving on the skateboard, deciding to leave the existentialism for another day.

First Dick and now Bruce. Tim’s family has really been making a habit of being weird around him lately.

He would normally think that the Bruce was worried about him, that Dick had passed along some bullshit about his mental health and Bruce was practicing some silent vigil. The problem with that theory is that Tim’s been getting better recently, so there wouldn’t be much point. At least he thinks he’s been getting better. It’s difficult to tell sometimes.

Bruce has definitely been acting weird around him though, so maybe he isn’t getting better. Maybe Bruce spotted something Tim didn’t and he’s on the road to insanity.

“What do you want?” Bruce asks one day as they’re both working in the cave. Not Batman. Bruce.

It’s a far stupider question than it was when Barbara or Dick asked it. Bruce is the person who made Tim’s desires what they are. He’s the one who took Tim’s obsession and carved it into a goal.

“What?” Tim asks, loud and confused and maybe a little angry. “What do you mean ‘what do I want’? I want the mission! What else am I supposed to want?”

Bruce stays silent for a moment and Tim imagines him turning the words over in his head. “Nothing else?” Bruce asks. He sounds sad and it makes the anger drain from Tim’s body. “Just the mission?”

“I don’t need anything else.” Tim says hollowly.

Bruce just nods, thinking. It makes Tim want to scream even as satisfaction rises in his chest.

It’s always been a point of pride that he can to lie to Batman. He’s hardly going to change his mind about that now.

“People keep asking me what I want.” Tim says, sat on Bernard's bed. “I don’t like it.”

Bernard's turns away from the laptop on his desk so he can look at Tim. “You ever tell them the truth?”

Tim shrugs. He isn’t sure what else to do. “Ish?”

Bernard smiles. “Anyone ever tell you you’re impossible, Tim Drake?”

“Only everyone I’ve ever met.”

Bernard barks out a laugh before sobering up and looking at Tim with ill-disguised curiosity. “Do you want to tell me the truth about it? Or did you just want to say the thing out loud?”

“I’m not sure.” Tim admits, and he has to stop himself from acting taken aback by the fact he actually said that. Tim never says when he’s uncertain. There isn’t room for it. Bernard must know that too because he looks at Tim in surprise, then scoots his chair closer to the bed so that he and Tim are almost touching.

Bernard looks very cautious. “You know that’s okay, right?”

“I-“ Tim starts, because is it? Is uncertainty the kind of luxury he can afford? “I want to want things. But it feels like I’ve forgotten how.”

“You’ve had a rough couple of years.”

“How do you-“

Bernard smiles knowingly. “You’re not as hard to read as you think, Tim. Well you are. But it’s not difficult to tell that some bad things must have happened since I last saw you.”

“Yeah.” Tim says hoarsely, thinking back to the burn of his muscles as he dug up Kon’s grave, the stinging of desert sand in his eyes, the moment of confusion when he woke up in a league of assassins base unsure if he’d had to die to get there. “Yeah. Bad things happened.” He shakes himself a little, because those aren’t the thoughts he wants lingering. He focuses back on Bernard who’s closer than Tim had realised, worry creased between his eyes. “What about you?” Tim asks, trying to exert some measure of control over the conversation. “What do you want?”

“Thought we were talking about you?” Tim might have let it go with that if not for the note of nervousness in Bernard's voice and the red creeping up the back of his neck.

“We can talk about both of us.”

“It’s not important right now.”

Tim reaches out then. He takes Bernard's hand in his because Bernard makes him laugh and he looks so nervous and Tim wants to. Bernard looks down at their hands in surprise and Tim doesn’t actually feel worried. Just expectant that Bernard is going to squeeze their fingers together more securely. He does. “You sure?” Tim asks.

Bernard just looks at him. Mouth parted with shock. He seems to come back to himself though and his expression of surprise turns into something more confident. More familiar. “What if I wanted you?” he asks, hesitancy and confidence rolled into one voice.

“Give me some time to remember how to want things, and I think I’ll want that too.” Tim replies, just as unsure and utterly certain.

Bernard tangles their fingers together a little more firmly in response and Tim feels more hopeful than he has in a long time.

#SO URBAN LEGENDS HUH??#if dc say sike rn I am going to take that as a hate crime against me PERSONALLY #dc #dc fandom #batman #writing #fic rec #batman fic rec #tim drake #bernard dowd #red robin #timber #urban legends #batman urban legends #ngl i might clean this up and expand on it a bit and put it on ao3 #all the sections were meant to be as short as barbara's lmao #i'm so bad at writing romance i couldn't even get them to kiss #i quite liked how the other parts turned out though?? idk

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bluejayblueskies · 3 years ago

Note

10 for the hug prompts with JonMartin? 🥺

touches prompt list

10 - hiding their face in the other’s neck

a no-fears au where jon and martin are in an established relationship! cw for nausea and a brief mention of vomiting (doesn't actually occur)

Jon doesn’t do roller coasters.

It is not, despite what Tim says when he thinks Jon isn’t listening, because he’s a, quote, ‘old man at heart’ and doesn’t know how to have fun. In theory, Jon is actually rather fond of roller coasters. He’d watched a documentary once about the design of them, and it had been rather fascinating.

It’s not because Jon doesn’t like roller coasters. It’s…

Well. It’s probably more accurate to say that roller coasters don’t like him. Specifically, his sense of equilibrium and his digestive system. Pills help somewhat, if he remembers to take them, but the fact of the matter is that he’s much more likely to leave the ride with a feeling of intense nausea than of exhilaration. He just… gets motion sick. No way around it. He always sits in the front seat of cars, ensures that he’s in a forward-facing train seat at all times, rarely travels by boat, and… avoids roller coasters.

The fact that he is currently standing in the queue for a particularly large and particularly frightening-looking roller coaster is not, therefore, due to his overwhelming love for them. It is instead entirely due to his overwhelming love for the man standing next to him, eyes bright and excited as he explains the history of this particular roller coaster. His hand is warm and soft in Jon’s, and their clasped hands swing absently back and forth as they slowly inch forward in the queue. His curls are a shock of auburn against the sky, and when he laughs and squeezes Jon’s hand, Jon forgets his anxiety entirely for a moment, lost in a wave of affection and fondness.

“—and because it’s the twenty-fifth anniversary of the ride,” Martin says with a wide grin, “it’ll be running backward today! Well, all season, I- I suppose, but we’re here today, so…”

Jon has never been on a roller coaster that’s traveled backward. It does… not sound appealing.

“That’s… very exciting,” Jon says with a smile, trying to make the words sound as genuine as possible. Because he is a coward. Or, perhaps, just very in love. Maybe both.

It’s just… Martin had been so excited when he’d dropped the amusement park tickets in front of Jon a few weeks ago. And in the four months or so that they’ve been dating, Jon has found it increasingly hard to say things that will cause that wide, unabashed smile on Martin’s face to dim even in the slightest. So Jon had discretely taken several motion sickness pills before they’d left that morning and had told himself that there were plenty of other things to do at an amusement park besides roller coasters and spinning rides and other things that make it their personal mission to tie Jon’s stomach into knots.

And then Martin had spent the entire train ride rambling about the various roller coasters and how he’d always wanted to go to an amusement park but he’d never been able to find the time or the money before and how he’s never been on a roller coaster but they look so fun, and Jon just… hadn’t been able to tell him.

It’ll be fine, he tells himself as they finally reach the front of the queue, the brightly colored cars sitting empty in front of them. It’ll be… completely, totally fine. Nothing to worry about.

They sit a few rows from the front. The click of the restraints makes Jon’s stomach squeeze with nerves, and he swallows around the lump in his throat. He doesn’t realize that he’s gripping the bar in front of him with white knuckles until Martin says gently, “Hey. Is… everything okay?”

No, but it’s certainly too late to change my mind now, Jon does not say.

“Yes,” Jon says, loosening his grip with considerable effort. It’s fine. “Just… b-been a while since I was on one of these.”

Technically not a lie.

“Oh!” Martin gives him a soft smile that makes his heart stutter in his chest. “Well, it’ll be a… new experience for both of us then, I suppose.”

The car jerks into motion, and Jon’s hands tighten instinctively on the bar again. It’s a… disconcerting effect, to be moving backward rather than forward, and one that Jon is decidedly not fond of. They exit the staging area and begin to climb up the first of the many, many hills Jon had eyed warily from their place in the queue. Jon looks straight ahead and does not look down and tries to breathe through his nose.

A warm hand covers his, and Jon looks over to see Martin watching him, that same soft smile on his lips. Martin squeezes gently, and Jon relaxes, just a fraction.

Then, the car tips over the peak of the hill and begins to accelerate, and Jon’s world blurs into a mess of colors and sensations.

The only part of the ride that Jon enjoys is the fact that it’s over quickly. By the time the car rolls to a halt—after a terrifying sequence of loops and drops and harsh curves and tight spirals—Jon feels as if his insides have been scooped out, stuffed in a washing machine, tumble dried, and then pushed back into him at all the wrong angles. Martin’s hand is still gripping his, somehow, and it remains there as they exit the car and make their way down the ramp and into the main thoroughfare. Jon’s legs feel boneless, like they’re made of jelly, and he is deeply afraid that if he opens his mouth, he is going to empty the contents of his stomach onto the pavement below.

Gentle hands are on Jon’s shoulders then, and Jon finds himself guided onto a metal bench just a few meters away from the exit ramp. Jon tries to protest that he’s fine—they have limited time here and he doesn’t need to take a break—but his stomach rolls and he pinches his lips shut before he manages to form a single word. When a hand settles on his upper back and presses down gently, he finally gives in to the urge to bend over and tuck his head between his knees in an effort to alleviate some of the lingering vertigo.

“Breathe, Jon,” Martin says, and Jon does. He takes a few deep breaths, and when a particularly powerful wave of nausea overtakes him, he can’t help the groan that escapes him. “I know,” Martin says softly, moving his hand in soothing circles on Jon’s back. “Just keep breathing, Jon. We can get some water in a bit, just… for now, let’s sit.”

Jon is too nauseous to be properly embarrassed by the coddling. That situation changes quickly as the minutes pass and Jon’s stomach begins to settle. After what must be nearly ten minutes, the nausea has faded entirely, but Jon keeps his head between his knees so he doesn’t have to look at Martin’s face.

“Feeling any better?” Martin prompts, and Jon lets out a slow breath. He nods once, and—with the help of Martin’s hand on his arm—straightens slowly, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the ground as he does so.

“Sorry,” he says, so quietly he isn’t sure Martin can hear him over the din of the crowd.

“You don’t have to apologize for- for feeling sick,” Martin says. He rubs a thumb against Jon’s arm and says, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I- I didn’t think… it would be this bad?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jon sees Martin give him a look that very clearly expresses his skepticism.

Jon sighs and puts his head in his hands again. “I just… didn’t want to disappoint you, I suppose.”

Martin is, of course, sharper than Jon gives him credit for sometimes. “Because I said I’d never had the chance to go on a roller coaster before?”

Jon nods miserably. “I-in my defense, I thought you would start with something significantly less… gravity-defying.”

“Jon,” Martin says, kindly and patiently yet with a chastising edge to it. “You could have waited by the exit.”

“I—I didn’t…” Jon feels the tips of his ears grow warm. “I didn’t want to leave you.”

“Oh,” Martin says, his voice pitched a touch higher than normal. “That’s… um, r-really sweet, actually.”

Jon is glad that Martin can’t see his face because he’s sure whatever expression would have crossed it just then would have been utterly sappy and mortifying.

“B-but I—I don’t want you to make yourself sick on my account,” Martin hastens to say. “There are loads of other things to do here. W-we don’t have to ride the roller coasters.”

Jon uncovers his face and looks at Martin. “But you want to ride the roller coasters.”

Martin worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He doesn’t deny it. Instead, he says, “I… also want to spend time with you, Jon. D-doing things we both want to do, not… not just me.”

Jon stares at Martin and thinks, not for the first time, that he loves him. But it’s still too early to say it, probably, and he’s certainly not going to do so sitting on a sticky metal bench surrounded by children and tired-eyed parents. So all he says, in the end, is, “If… if you’re sure.”

Martin takes Jon’s hand in his and squeezes gently. “I am.” Then, he gives Jon a wide, soft smile that has Jon’s stomach twisting all over again. “So. What do you do at amusement parks, then?”

Jon flushes. But Martin doesn’t laugh at him when he mumbles that he’s actually quite fond of carousels. Instead, he takes Jon’s hand and walks with him across the park—staying away from the more crowded sections, stopping to buy some horrendously overpriced bottles of water on their way—until they’re standing in front of the carousel, painted in lovely pastel blues and yellows.

Jon, for a moment, feels self-conscious and more than a bit childish. But then Martin squeezes his hand and says, without a hint of teasing, “So, what animal do you prefer?” and the tension in Jon’s shoulders melts away in an instant.

Jon learns that Martin likes the classic horses, manes painted gold and plastic saddles a bright cherry red. (And Martin is entirely unsurprised to find that Jon chooses the cat, every time.) He learns, as they continue to explore the amusement park, that Martin likes caramel apples but hates how they get stuck in his teeth. (He purchases one anyway, rolled in peanuts and little rainbow sprinkles, that gives Jon a toothache just looking at it.) He learns that Martin does not appreciate his explanation that the monsters on the haunted house ride are ‘just dummies’ and ‘obviously fake’ and ‘really, Martin, that’s not even the correct number of bones in a human skeleton.’ (Though he secretly treasures the way that Martin clings to his side in the car and hides his face in Jon’s neck, his curls tickling the sensitive skin just underneath Jon’s chin.)

And Martin, apparently, learns that Jon is strangely good at midway games.

“You know those things are totally rigged, right?” Martin says, staring at Jon in disbelief as he tries and fails to adjust his grip on the frankly enormous plush teddy bear the midway worker had begrudgingly surrendered to him. And the medium-sized plush cat he’d won earlier. And the dozen or so little plushies and trinkets and accessories he’d acquired along the way. “You’re not supposed to be able to win.”

“Yes, well.” Jon gives up on trying to find a comfortable way to carry his prizes and extends the massive teddy toward Martin. “I suppose I’m just… lucky.”

He is certainly not going to admit that he spent a good three days researching what to do on a carnival date, came to the conclusion that it would be romantic to win an enormous stuffed animal for Martin, and committed himself to memorizing which games were easiest to win and what strategies he should employ in order to have the best chance at success. That would be… well. A bit much, he thinks. Best to just… not mention it.

Martin carries the teddy all the way back to his flat, his cheeks flushing a lovely pink whenever an occasional curious glance is thrown in their direction. It’s only once they get there and Martin tries to pass the plushie back to Jon with a sheepish, “Suppose I better give this back now,” that Jon realizes he had… indeed not been very clear about his intentions.

“It’s… for you, actually,” Jon says, ignoring the way his cheeks are growing steadily warmer. Then, Jon takes a breath and pushes the rest of the plushies rather unceremoniously into Martin’s arms, save for the cat which he’s… grown rather attached to in their short acquaintanceship. “Th-they all are. Er. F-for you.”

“O-oh.” Martin looks down at the collection of brightly colored things in his arms, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. “I—I… really?”

Jon hugs the cat tightly to his chest, feeling something like embarrassment curl in his stomach. “I-if you don’t want them, I—I can—”

“No!” Martin says quickly, curling his arms protectively around the plushies. “I—I do. W-want them.” He looks down at the teddy sitting by his feet, then up at Jon with a warm, shy smile on his face. “Th-thanks, Jon.”

I love him, I love him, I love him.

Jon nods, pinches his lips together, and tries to keep his affection contained. He doesn’t want to come on too strong, after all. That’s… something he’s not meant to do, he thinks.

Then, when they’re both lying in bed and Martin’s chest is pressed against Jon’s back, his arm curled around Jon’s middle and his nose buried in Jon’s hair, Martin murmurs, “I love you,” and Jon’s breath catches in his throat.

“I… I love you too,” he whispers. And it’s such an easy thing to say that Jon wonders why he’d ever worried at all.

Martin makes a sleepy, contented noise, burrowing closer and wrapping Jon more tightly in his arms. And because he can—he can, he can, Martin said it first, so he can—Jon says again, so quietly he isn’t sure Martin can hear it: “I love you.”

The words are sweet on his tongue, like candy floss and funnel cakes and caramel apples.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #my writing #my fic #i know nothing about british amusement parks so if this is painfully american... forgive me #hawkfurze

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dickwheelie · 3 years ago

Note

This is a little specific so feel free to give it a pass if you're not into it, but would you like to like to do season 2 Lunch Date Era jonmartin with the 'friendly hugs' prompt? Thank you, and have a good day!

specific prompts are actually really nice, they give me something solid to work off of, so this was actually perfect! I had a lot of fun writing this one. thank you and enjoy, anon!

____________

Jon can't stop bouncing his leg.

He keeps forgetting that he's doing it, and then noticing again, and then forcibly stopping himself, but it never lasts long. The cafe is crowded and loud, which is distracting enough on its own, but Martin is also there, sitting across from him and tucking into a sandwich, gamely trying to engage Jon in conversation even though Jon keeps getting distracted and bouncing his leg.

"Jon? You there?"

Martin's voice fades back into Jon's awareness, and he shifts his gaze back to him. "Sorry," he says for the fifth time that lunch hour, "um, say that again?"

He feels bad. He does. Ever since he found out about Martin's CV, Jon's been kicking himself over how paranoid he'd been, thinking that Martin was out to get him, shouting at him over what turned out to be nothing. Jon doesn't want to be that sort of boss, that sort of person, but he'd just been so overwhelmed. He could hardly believe it when Martin asked him to join him for lunch, after all the things Jon's said to him. Still, he's grateful for the olive branch. It's too bad he keeps messing it up by forgetting to listen to Martin when he talks.

Speaking of--

"Oh, damn," Jon mutters, interrupting whatever it is Martin is trying to tell him. "Martin, god, I'm so sorry, I just got--"

"Distracted?" Martin says, and to Jon's surprise he doesn't seem annoyed, just . . . concerned. "I've noticed. Jon, are you feeling alright?"

"What? Yes, I'm fine." Jon eats the last few bites of his salad so he doesn't have to meet Martin's eyes.

"Sure? Because you seem really anxious." Martin's voice has that soft, worried lilt to it that Jon used to get annoyed by. It doesn't bother him so much anymore. It's . . . sort of nice, really, to be worried over, sometimes.

Not now, though. Because right now Jon doesn't need to be worried over. "I'm not anxious. Just . . . it's distracting in here. It's loud."

"Oh, well, let's go then," Martin says, finishing up his sandwich and standing up to gather his coat. "It's not too cold out. We can walk around downtown until lunch hour is over."

"I--" Jon wants to protest, but he realizes that yes, getting out of this small cafe would be very welcome. "That's . . . that's a good idea, actually."

His leg can't bounce when he's walking, and the early winter air is cold but not biting, and the walkways aren't crowded. Jon can feel himself calming down by the time they get a block away from the cafe. Maybe he had been a little anxious, after all. This was a very good idea. Martin has very good ideas, he thinks.

"If that cafe was too much," Martin is telling him, and thankfully Jon is actually able to listen to him now, "there's another place we could try next time. New Indian place, right around the corner from the Institute. Tim says he goes there whenever he has a PT appointment, to treat himself."

Jon wants to go back to the fact that Martin wants there to be a next time, but for now there's something more pressing to address. "Tim's still doing physical therapy?" he says. He'd thought he was finished weeks ago.

"Yeah, he says it's just follow-up appointments. He's mostly okay, they just need to make sure he's improving, I guess." Martin shoots him a sidelong look. "I thought you and he were close."

"Not, um . . . not so much anymore." Jon stuffs his hands into his coat pockets, ducking into his collar. "We don't really . . . talk."

"Oh," Martin says. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah." Jon doesn't want to get into it. Thankfully, Martin doesn't press the issue.

"Are you still going to PT?" Martin says instead. "You don't have to tell me, obviously. I just . . . I never see you outside the archives anymore."

Jon bites the inside of his cheek. "I, um . . . I sort of . . . stopped going. After the second appointment."

Martin stops short in the middle of the sidewalk, and Jon has to double back. "Christ, Jon!" he says, not angry, but aggravated. "You can't just skip out on that stuff, you could do permanent damage--"

"Martin, I'm fine," Jon says. "See, I'm walking around and everything. Trust me, if it was bad, I'd have kept going, but the whole thing was a waste of time and I had work to get done--"

"Your health comes first," Martin says, with finality, before his demeanor softens. "I'm not an idiot, Jon, I notice you staying late and coming in early, I notice when you skip meals. You're running yourself ragged. It's a job, Jon, and trust me, I know how important this work is, I get it, but none of it, alright, none of it's more important than you."

Jon blinks at him. He wants to protest, but every half-formed rebuttal sounds either defensive or outright silly. Martin is right, after all. Jon just wishes that he weren't, because then he wouldn't have to reevaluate everything he's been doing for the past two months.

Martin goes on, taking a step closer to him. "Just . . . you don't need to keep throwing yourself at a wall, Jon. At least give yourself a break every once in a while."

"I can't just walk away, Martin. O-Or, I don't--" Jon's voice has gone shaky. He clears his throat and tries again. "I--I don't really know how. There's just . . . there's so much, and I don't know where any of it leads, if it's leading anywhere at all, and . . . I just . . . I've no idea what I'm supposed to do about all of it."

Martin gives him a look that Jon doesn't know how to place. It's not pity, or condescension, which Jon would expect from most everyone else. He just looks . . . sort of sad. His hands are clasped in front of his chest, tugging restlessly on his fingers. "Jon, would you . . . um, that is . . ." Suddenly Martin thrusts his open arms out towards Jon and blurts out, "Would you like a hug?"

Jon's speechless. What a thing to be asked, he thinks, and especially by a coworker, no matter how well they know each other, it's completely unprofessional, and even if Martin were his closest friend, which he isn't, but even if he were, why on earth would Jon of all people need a hug? Sure, he's not doing all that great, but Martin doesn't need to know that, and anyway how is a hug supposed to fix anything, especially a hug from someone who doesn't know the half of what Jon's been going through lately, or how scared and confused he's been, or about Jon's very serious problems that are complicated and terrifying and can't be fixed with something as childish and simple as a--

"Yes, please," Jon says, the words coming out in an exhale of pent-up tension, and he all but collapses into Martin's open arms. His face lands just under Martin's chin, half-tucked into his shoulder, and he's just barely able to wrap his arms around Martin's midsection as Martin hugs him back tightly, squeezing him against his chest, and Jon had never known how strong Martin was, how much he had been hiding beneath those soft jumpers of his. His arms, all muscle beneath fat, feel as though they could fight off an army if they really wanted to, and despite his nagging paranoia, Jon can't help but feel utterly protected by them. He feels himself relaxing, bit by bit, sinking into the softness of Martin's chest, letting him hug him closer, just tight enough to be secure without hurting. As he leans into the hug, he doesn't feel any concern about Martin losing his grip or slipping backwards. Martin can take his weight; he knows this. He is as solid and reliable as a wall, and just as stubborn, and he will not drop Jon. Jon lets out a deep sigh, his breaths evening out and slowing, tension seeping from his limbs until he feels entirely relaxed. He feels cared for. He feels safe. It's been so, so long since he's felt safe.

He doesn't even notice that he's closed his eyes until Martin's arms shift around him, and Jon realizes they've been hugging for probably way longer than is normal. His eyes snap open and he backs off, hands sliding away from Martin, clearing his throat awkwardly. He tries not to miss the gentle security of Martin's arms.

"Um," Martin says, sounding like he's about to apologize, but Jon interrupts him.

"Thank you," he says, trying to keep his voice even. "That was--I, um. I needed that." When was the last time he'd hugged someone? Jon can't even remember. "It was really nice," he says quietly. Another one of Martin's brilliant ideas.

Martin nods, looking relieved, and perhaps a little fond, though it may just be Jon's imagination. "Anytime," he says, and Jon thinks he might mean it. He hopes he does. "What are friends for, eh?"

Jon blinks. Are they friends? How long has that been the case? He looks at Martin, hands stuffed into his coat pockets, a small smile on his face, and he thinks that yes, maybe they are friends. It would be nice to be friends, anyway. If Martin says they're friends, Jon won't correct him. "Yeah," he says, and he's very glad to see Martin's face brighten at the word. "I, um," and Jon needs to clear his throat again, "I-I'll try. To have a break once in a while."

"Promise?" Martin says, and Jon can't help but laugh.

"I promise."

Martin nods. "Okay. Good."

"This, today, lunch I mean, this was nice. I'd . . . um. I'd like to do it again."

"Oh! Um, sure. Definitely," Martin says, smiling.

"We can go to that Indian place," Jon says.

"Sure," Martin says. "Tomorrow?" His look is hesitant, but Jon's answer is immediate.

"Yes," he says, letting a smile run over his lips. "Yes, Martin, I'd like that very much."

#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #gwyneth writes

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vermillioncrown · 1 year ago

Text

THIS IS WHAT I MEAN. every time i rant about oats in my posts, roz fucking keeps me fed

enabler friend then inspires me to dump 3k in return lmao

(when we get to a point, ttbh should get posted on ao3. but later. hooo boy. there's a lot getting implied in our bits 😎)

It’s uncomfortable when Kui-Wing wakes up—like he’s missing something. His bed feels bare. Did the mink blanket get kicked off in the middle of the night? And it almost feels like the window was left open for too long, with how chills run down his back. As awareness trickles back into his body, he can feel how he’s not on a bed at all. It feels like a medical cot.

Hospital? What’s happening? Who’s there with him?

“He’s awake.”

“Okay, grab B. I’ll get him something to eat and drink, just in case.”

“Yeah, it’s been a long night.”

The whispers around him don’t sound like the clinical way medical staff talk around their patients. He’s being monitored? Nothing seems to be hooked up—

“Hey, hey—Korv, it’s okay.”

Who? Do they think he’s someone else? Kidnapping? Where’s Ma and Ba?

The owner of the first voice hurries over to where he’s lying. “I know, I know, it’s confusing, You’re safe, okay? Let’s wait for Tim to come back down before we start explaining things?” A large hand pats down on his hair, and he can’t help but open his eyes and give up the ruse (not that it seemed to be working).

Woah.

One of the prettiest guys he’s ever seen, in both of his lives, is smiling affectionately down at him. Why’s he looking at him like that?

Kui-Wing feels his face getting red hot and reflexively turns to bury himself into the uncomfortable padding under him.

“Gosh, I”—the pretty guy muffles a whine—”I am trying so hard. Okay, okay, be cool, Kon. No squeezing.” The hand comes back down even softer on his head. It feels good, but he still doesn’t know who this pretty guy is. He doesn’t seem dangerous…but he could be delusional. And he’s really observant, with how attentive he is towards Kui-Wing.

“It’ll be okay. Hang tight, Korv.”

Something about the pretty guy, how earnest and gentle he’s being, makes him feel safe to tell the truth.

“That’s…that’s not my name. You have the wrong person, Mister,” he tells him, squirming out from under his hand and sitting up. Hm. He’s in a medical gown.

The pretty guy falters and his face goes through a brief emotional journey. “Right…not yet. Shi—shoot. I don’t think you ever said when…”

“Ten,” the second voice from before says before the person rounds the corner of the stark room he’s in. “He goes by ‘Kui-Wing’ right now. I’m Tim, by the way. And that’s Kon.”

Oh no, the second guy, Tim, is also super pretty. He’s smiling down at him, a bottle of water and a packet of nuts on hand. And he said Kui-Wing’s name right, which is utterly bizarre for a white guy. He’s paying too much attention to him and it's giving him indigestion.

“Tim, that’s rude as hell,” the first guy, Kon, lectures. “I know Alfred’s out right now, but you could’ve asked me to make something. I think even economy flights treat their passengers better.”

“These”—Tim holds up the water and snacks—”are sealed, so he’ll know it’s safe. And you didn’t get Bruce like you were supposed to.”

“Got distracted.” Kon’s hand finds its way to Kui-Wing’s head again, and this time his hair gets ruffled. It’s not painful or rough, but it’s not something he’s used to and his reflex is to squeeze his eyes shut and move with the hand.

“Very fair.” Tim sounds even closer now. He’s amused. “Grab him now, Kon? Actually, make sure he recalls Dick ASAP.”

“Gotcha,” and Kon leaves the room after another hair ruffle. This time, Kui-Wing feels it coming and holds still.

Tim doesn’t start fussing with him the same way that Kon did. Normally, it’s like when old aunties and uncles poke and prod him, and Kui-Wing knows how to tolerate it enough. But the way the two of them look at him is…it’s way more than the patronizing interest of typical adults. There’s intent—nothing weird, but it’s like they’re completely focused on him. So, in a way, that’s still weird.

“Water,” Tim extends his offerings, flipping the bottle slowly twice and squeezing. Bubbles stream from the air pocket but nothing from the sides. He then peels off the plastic tab and hands the bottle over. “And some salted almonds,” he adds, shaking the little packet in his hand. “I don’t know if you have an upset stomach right now, though.”

“I feel fine,” Kui-Wing says carefully. It seems these people know him, somehow, and aren’t…hm. It’d be best to work with them for now. “May I have some, Mr. Tim?”

Show respect, don’t draw too much attention.

“Oh—Jesus, I don’t know how Dick survived this long. Serious psychic damage,” Tim mutters even as he opens the packet. “You can just call me ‘Tim’, Kui-Wing.”

“Nuh-uh, you’re an adult. I gotta be respectful,” he explains. Adults are less likely to bother with him if he doesn’t give them anything to complain about.

This time, Tim also comes in for a hair ruffle. “No wonder you were winning since day one—you’ve had years in the game. ‘Respectful’,” he snickers to himself.

Kui-Wing tries to not let a frown show. They’re too observant. It’s honestly a bit alarming, and only not more so because it’s clear they’re trying very hard to make him comfortable and not like some weird psy-op. He takes a sip of water to stay calm.

It really helps. So, he starts on the almonds, too.

“Did I get hurt, Mr. Tim?” That would be the obvious reason why he’s in a medical bay. It’s more cramped than he’d expect at some hospital, though. No windows, either.

“We don’t know yet,” Tim answers and it sounds honest for its uncertainty. He takes out a small heart rate monitor and another device. “And that’s what we’re trying to find out. But something did happen, which is why you don’t remember me or Kon right now.” He looks at Kui-Wing expectantly until he holds out a hand for the monitor.

Plausible. If they wanted to run some weird Truman Show experiment on him, there were so many ways to have staged it better…unless they were so deep in his head they were staging it like this to look uncertain and genuine. But then, Kui-Wing would be completely outdone in that it wouldn’t matter.

“Okay.”

Tim is nice, otherwise. He tells Kui-Wing everything he’s doing, and within three explanations vacillating between overly complicated jargon and veering towards patronizing, he seems to figure out exactly what Kui-Wing understands.

Maybe it finally happened—his Ma and Ba realized he wasn’t normal enough and gave him to an institution. And Tim is actually a doctor studying him, which is why he’s able to clock him immediately. But he’s being nice about it, so there’s no point in making life rough for himself if he doesn’t need to. And if the doctors are hoping he’s something special like the people on the news, the heroes, well…they’ll be disappointed.

Another voice becomes audible. “—okay?”

“He’s fine, Tim’s checking for residuals.”

Kon returns with an older, very handsome, man in an expensive, perfectly tailored suit. It’s slightly rumpled like he’s been sitting and moving too fast without time to straighten himself. The man stares down intensely at Kui-Wing, brows furrowed and mouth in a stoic line.

Kui-Wing stills. Kon leaves the older man’s side and plops himself down on the medical cot, right next to him. “It’s okay, Little K. Bruce is just surprised.” His hand rubs down his back. It’s surprisingly nice, so he doesn’t move away.

Tim passes by the man, Bruce, and snaps his fingers in front of his face. He continues on the way to some machines on the other side of the room. “You’re freaking him out, B.”

That seems to reanimate Bruce. He gives one glance back before moving towards the touchscreen that Tim was originally working on. All the technology around seems to imply this institution is really advanced.

“…he’s so small,” Bruce finally says.

“Wasn’t Dick eight? He couldn’t have been that much bigger.”

“It makes a difference.”

“Tim, you done?” Kon impatiently calls out to interrupt their conversation.

“We should do blood work,” Bruce suggests abruptly. He’s now frowning at the screen.

“B, we can’t keep holding off—I know that look on his face. Brain on overdrive.” Tim rolls his eyes but his tone is fond as he tidies up and walks over. “Explanations now before anything else. Where’s Dick?”

Bruce shakes his head minutely. “Nearest Zeta tube is hours away.”

Tim frowns. “Then it can’t be helped.” He sits down on Kui-Wing’s other side.

Kui-Wing looks up at Tim, and then at Kon. And when Bruce doesn’t come over to box him in, he feels himself relaxing again. Kon’s hand is back on his head, carding through his hair. There’s something about him, despite being so overwhelmingly beautiful and solicitous, that makes it not creepy. It’s a grounding point as Tim starts to talk.

Tim’s explanation is careful, deliberate, but for the three times Kui-Wing requests he reiterate certain points, it doesn’t seem like he’s lying. The way he's trying to contain his personal feelings about the situation is very earnest in its restraint.

So...

Magic. Magic that made him forget, that changed him so fundamentally—that’s just this kind of fucked up world now. Kui-Wing hoped he’d never have to deal with any of it if he kept his head down.

“I know this is a lot to ask for you to trust us on top of everything,” Tim tries to wrap up, his expression growing more hesitant. He’s looking at Kui-Wing like he’s waiting for him to say something.

What is there to say? Even if things are true, it’s not like it feels like that for Kui-Wing. He…he feels as fake-seven as ever. To know he has a whole new family here to help him, outside of just Ma and Ba, sounds unbelievable.

“Do you like frogs, Little K?” Kon segues, breaking through his ruminations.

The question comes out of left field. “They’re nice, Mr. Kon,” he ends up admitting.

“You like catching them?” Kon’s pulling something out of his pocket, his tone knowing and amused.

Well…

“It’s fun.”

“Here. Big-You thinks so, too.” Kon holds his phone, a picture blown up on the screen, in front of Kui-Wing.

There’s a guy in the photo. East Asian, glasses, but hair curlier than Kui-Wing’s waves. Same mole by the lip. He looks really cool—tattoos everywhere, as he’d expects for someone that’s supposed to be Kon’s friend. The guy is standing in murky water in the woods, face grinning and streaked with mud, and he’s holding a huge frog.

No way.

“That’s…me?” Kui-Wing looks up at the adults’ faces to track any bit of deception.

Bruce makes a little noise at the back of his throat. “Send that to Alfred,” and the words are softened from a demand to a request by the subtle amusement in them. “He’s annoyed we don’t have enough photos of everyone.”

“That’s you,” Tim confirms over Kon and Bruce negotiating photo distribution. He takes the phone and pans the photo with his fingers, pinching and zooming in on maybe-Kui-Wing’s face. The naked fondness with which he studies the photo is far too much to act out. “You never get sick of catching them, and yet every time we tell you to keep one as a pet, you say no.”

Kui-Wing doesn’t like the implications of that anecdote. “It’d be unfair to the frog to keep it solely for my amusement,” he reproaches Tim.

“That explanation also never changes,” Tim nods along with a chuckle.

Because Tim seems to not disagree, Kui-Wing goes back to analyzing the photo. Metadata shows a date in the far future. When Tim doesn’t stop him, he swipes through the neighboring photos and sees that the dates are consistent. He goes back to the photo and looks at Big-Him. Seeing the running script tattooed on the guy’s forearm confirms everything. No one else would know what it says.

Or, he’s already insane and this is all a dream. In that case—nothing better to do than to go along for the ride.

An hour later, he regrets going along with everything. The adults taking care of him—Kon, Tim, and Bruce, along with a bunch of others he’s yet to meet—all know him as ‘Korvin’ or ‘Korv’, so he’s okay answering to that. Korvin. It’s a pretty cool name.

They all want turns holding him when they see him tolerate Kon’s head pats. He doesn’t get the appeal but fine. They agree to ‘no cheek pinching’—small mercies. He feels like a cat being manhandled by their overenthusiastic owner.

He gets real clothes—new clothes—Tim delights in picking out too-nice everything for him, perfectly fitted and styled. Meticulous. It’s obvious that they’re well-off, with how he texts his order and there’s a huge delivery within the hour, but it feels like a waste. He’s still grateful, though.

But his personal toll—

“This is undignified,” he complains and raises his hands. The voluminous sleeves of the green hoodie given to him barely roll down to his wrists. “You’re just doing this because you can’t bully Big-Me! He’s gonna make you pay when he—I—”

Damn, this is confusing.

Kon’s curled up against the wall like he’s dying, clutching his phone to his chest. Bruce is sitting at the bench by the foot of the guest bed, looking to be daydreaming ten thousand miles away. Tim’s squatting in front of him, expression trying to remain earnest and sincere but giving a poor showing of it.

Korvin should just push the big jerk over.

“If this happened to me, oh—Big-You would be even worse,” Tim refutes. “I’d be menaced to within an inch of my life. He’ll understand.”

Okay, fuck it, pushing time—unfortunately, Tim’s also really fast along with being observant, and catches onto Korvin’s hands before he can be toppled. He holds him in place, no matter how hard Korvin steps and digs his feet into the carpet.

“It’s so comfy, though, isn’t it?” Tim tries to coax—more like, taunt him. “Don’t you want to wear the hood?”

“Oh, please, please wear the hood,” Kon begs from the sidelines. His hand tries to hold up his phone, red light indicating a recording, but it’s too shaky. He switches to stabilizing the device with his fancy telekinesis.

Okay, to be fair, the frog-shaped hood (the whole hoodie, in fact) is…it’s really comfy. But this is why people should love nothing and no one, lest their sentiments be used against them.

“Go pound sand, Mr. Tim,” he bites out at Tim, and the man looks about to burst either into tears or hysterical laughter.

Bruce actually lets out a little huff and Kon smacks the wall and rolls along the surface. The adults’ mischief is interrupted by a cacophony of alarms, all from their individual pockets. They pull out identical devices. Communicators?

A tense silence permeates the room once they’ve all checked their devices.

“Shit,” Kon curses, looking at whatever the device is displaying. “It’s that bad?”

“I did think it was weird we’re the only ones not”—Tim bites his thumbnail, brows furrowed in thought—”luckily, we decided to stay behind. Korvin’s presence is doing a bit to keep the distortions from us.”

Korvin looks down at himself. Besides the not-obvious obvious thing, he’s never been anything special-special. “I’m not doing anything?”

“That’s kind of the problem,” Tim says with a grimace. His hand comes up to brush Korvin's fringe. “Or more like, you can’t do anything right now.”

Bruce stands up and something about his posture shifts. Suddenly, he’s the most dangerous man in the room. “That dampening effect won’t last forever. And when the distortions gain enough strength to break through—”

Tim grabs onto him. It’s almost tight enough to hurt. “We can’t let that happen. And we don’t know how much time we have left.”

What’s going to happen? He can feel how tense Tim is, hear how his heartbeat starts to speed up with how he’s being crushed to Tim’s chest. From under Tim’s arm, he sees Kon float over and stand close. Protective.

Korvin squirms in Tim’s hold. “Mr. Tim,” he calls out. “Mr. Tim!”

He’s released from the crushing embrace only to have Tim latch onto his shoulders, face worried and scanning Korvin from head to toe. Kon doesn’t look any calmer.

“What’s gonna happen, Mr. Tim?” he asks out loud. They probably don’t want to say he’s dying. Nothing hurts, really…so there could be worse ways to go. He's a primary source on that.

After a moment of intense inspection, Tim seems to have figured something out. “Doesn’t matter—I won’t let it happen.” His words sound heavy like how he’d imagine a magical oath to feel. Tim stands up, lifts Korvin by the underarms and passes him to Kon’s telekinetic hold. It’s all so extraneous and while Korvin feels uneasy, it’s clear that the adults are much more rattled by the proceedings.

Kon grips him tight, both with his arms and power. His hand comes back onto Korvin’s hair. It…it does feel safe, for once, being held like this.

“What’s the move, Rob?”

“You have the simulation from last month, B?”

There’s an implied nod, and Tim answers Kon. “I have a plan. We’re calling in some help from outside.”

the time being had is of ambiguous quality, but we're certainly here

(ttbh for abbreviation purposes)

below the cut is the scene i wrote as gift fic for @vermillioncrown as a spin-off of our collab 'we're here for a good time, not a long time,' which we've hinted around in previous posts. (we were talking abt our beef w kidfic and this happened.) abt 1.7k words

to re-cap, general premise is that allie and korvin got de-aged in their respective universes, have to camp out in canon-verse for a little while as things settle down at home. whfagt events were abt six months prior.

Allie doesn’t think it’s unreasonable that when the very beautiful man who told her to call him Conner attempts to set her down amongst a group of vigilantes that she’s been assured are an alternate universe version of her family—and whom older her has apparently visited before?—she tightens her grip on his t-shirt and her knees around his hip.

The even more (somehow?) beautiful man who is first to approach them makes her hide her face in Conner’s shoulder because he’s so nauseatingly good-looking. Well, it’s a combo of that and people staring at her in general. Is everyone stupidly pretty here?

Someone makes a cooing noise.

“Jason filled us in,” says the Even More Beautiful Man. “This is Allie?”

His voice is all cheerful-gentle and Allie hates it, she does not want this man paying her his undivided attention, it’s mortifying, it’s even worse than when Duke and Jason had had to calm her down from a panic attack a few hours ago and had treated her with kid gloves and looked at her like she was the saddest, wettest kitten out in the rain.

But part of what he says makes her perk up, and she looks around the cave which is apparently called the Batcave because everyone sucks at naming things. “Jason?”

Conner snorts. “The more things change…”

“—I just don’t think it makes sense to leave me in an alternate universe with people I don’t know,” comes a child’s voice, only barely petulant, and Allie’s distracted from her search. “Can’t I be protected at—home? Don’t you have superpowers?”

“Yeah, but you’re extra squishy human right now, Korv,” says a fond-sounding Conner. A Conner who is not her Conner, or at least not the one holding her. It’s a Conner carrying a little boy piggy-back who looks about her age, walking down a set of stairs. Hm. She had gotten flown in through an entrance directly into the cave. It had been really cool.

“And the true dynamic duo is reunited,” mutters another pretty boy, trailing behind. He catches Allie’s eye and smiles.

Allie wants to die. Just how many beautiful people’s company can she be expected to endure?

“Reunited?” Allie redirects her attention. She looks at the little boy who looks back at her with equal discernment, and doesn’t recognize him though the preternatural canniness is viscerally familiar. “We’ve met?”

The Even More Beautiful Man clears his throat. “You and Korvin met the last time you were both in this universe, Allie.” He sounds slightly constipated. Unfortunately, it doesn’t diminish his charm.

“Yeah, and now it’s something something, latent agents of chaos and order, multiversal shenanigans never letting up, achieving balance in the force,” says Korvin’s Conner. “Easiest if you and Allie are in the same place for the time being while the rest of us do clean up. You two even each other out, existentially speaking.”

“That’s a stupid explanation,” Korvin grumbles. He darts another look at Allie, scans the cave.

Anything his Conner might say in response is drowned out by the sound of a motorcycle engine echoing, and Allie’s attention is stolen by the figure on the bike, who, besides Conner, is the only one she recognizes thus far. Though that’s not saying much.

Jason—or this universe’s version of him, and wow this is all getting confusing—eyeballs her once he’s parked and takes his helmet off, hair mussed and a little sweaty. He gives a little wave. “Hey, Allie.”

“Hi,” she replies, and she can feel her cheeks reddening again. She turns away.

“No memories at all?” asks Jason in a tone of confirmation more than interrogation, and she’s not a hundred percent on who he’s talking to, but she decides it’s not her. Besides, he should already know this since her Jason is the one that initiated contact with him about her coming here.

Conner answers. “Nothing past the age she is now.” He rubs his hand on her back.

Time to lean in.

“I’m seven,” she announces in her best ‘I’m baby’ impression.

“Me too,” says Korvin.

“Fascinating,” says the pretty boy. “You had at least a ten year age gap last time.”

“So, this is a situation that is potentially hilarious, and I’d love to stick around for multiple reasons not even to do with the hilarity, but unfortunately there’s a time crunch.” Korvin’s Conner sounds genuinely apologetic.

“Ditto.” Conner is similarly regretful. “Believe me, I want to hang around, and you are wicked cute as a kid—” he directs this part at Allie “—but the universe-saving thing. Kind of pressing.”

“They’ll be safe here,” assures the oldest man in a gruff voice. He’s handsome, but in a dad kind of way where he looks like he needs a nap and a shave. Allie bets he gives really good hugs if you’re able to surprise one out of him.

“Hopefully less mayhem than last time,” says the Even More Beautiful Man with a laugh. “Admittedly not a high bar to clear, though.”

Everyone has been extremely vague about what had happened the last time Allie had universe-hopped, her Jason especially, and he had seemed to know the most. Maybe she’ll get some answers here.

“This is child abandonment, I’m pretty sure,” protests Korvin when his Conner detaches him and sets him down. His Conner winces deeply.

“I’ll be back, Korv,” he promises, crouched down to eye level and more serious than an adult making those kinds of promises to a kid usually is.

“Hm,” is all Korvin says.

“You too, now, Allie,” says her Conner. He’s wearing a reassuring expression. “Back soon.”

She doesn’t put up a fuss this time, though she feels a little silly standing there in the Wonder Woman t-shirt her Jason had given her—older-hers, apparently, and she swims in it even with the hem tied in a knot at her waist—and the jeans and shoes that had been hastily purchased in her home universe.

The two Conners eye each other, and then Korvin’s Conner says, “Good to know I can pull off a nose ring.”

Her Conner scoffs. “I can pull off anything.”

Korvin’s Conner grins. “It's true, I can.”

“See you in a bit, Allie.”

“Real soon, Korv.”

The two of them have some universe-traveling bracelet doohickey and vanish in short order, and Allie looks around the gathered inhabitants of the Batcave—seriously such a stupid name—and then at Korvin, who looks back at her, and, in unspoken agreement, they move closer to each other.

“I think this means we’re best friends now,” she says solemnly.

Korvin nods back with equal solemnity.

The Even More Beautiful Man squats down and smiles at them. “Either of you hungry?”

“Is Steph here?” Allie ignores him and peers around the cave for effect. ”Or Duke?”

“Steph and Duke?” Korvin asks her, also ignoring the Even More Beautiful Man.

“They're nice,” Allie informs him. ”And Steph's really pretty.”

The Even More Beautiful Man makes a noise in the back of his throat, apparently of confusion or dismay, because he quickly clears it and that noise is different. “Steph's wrapping some things up and Duke has class. He'll be back for dinner.”

“Oh.” Allie stops looking around. She still doesn't look at the Even More Beautiful Man; it'd be like looking at the sun if the sun wasn't an indifferent ball of burning gas and instead actively liked you.

“Who are you, anyway?” says Korvin to the Even More Beautiful Man, though Allie notices that he doesn't look at him straight on. Still. Respect.

The Even More Beautiful Man smiles again. “I'm Dick—”

Allie chokes, shares a frantic glance with Korvin.

“That's a bad word,” Korvin accuses instantly.

“I can't say that, I'll get in trouble,” Allie follows up.

“Are you trying to get us in trouble?”

“That's not nice.”

“You shouldn’t try and trick people.”

“I don’t like this.”

Korvin latches onto her hand; she squeezes back. They shuffle even closer to one another.

The pretty boy is clearly biting his cheek in order not to laugh, his face pinking. Dick—and not only is everyone pretty here, the bad names aren’t limited to places, apparently—just stares at them, shell-shocked.

“I—it’s not a bad word, my name is—Dick is short for Richard. It’s a nickname.” He sounds thoroughly lost.

“Sure, Mr Richard,” returns Korvin derisively.

The pretty boy loses it at the same time as Jason bursts into a full-on cackle and Dick’s expression turns to one of horror. Allie, trying not to observe everyone else laughing so that she doesn’t crack, manages instead to make eye contact with the old guy, who gives her the most subdued yet intense smile she’s ever seen, causing her to reflexively smile back.

“His name really is Dick,” the old guy says, subdued-amused. Wow, everything about this guy is subdued, but strictly in a lurking-under-the-surface kinda way. “I’m Bruce. Allie, you’ve met Jason. Korvin, you’ve met Tim. The others will be by eventually and we’ll do further introductions as needed.”

Smart, not offering up information until it’s immediately relevant. Also, paranoid. Allie notices Bruce noticing that she notices, and, judging by the grip on her hand, Korvin notices, too.

“Holy shit, this is great,” Jason wheezes.

“Language,” Tim wheezes back, setting them both off again.

With an air of trying to regain his equilibrium, Dick looks to her and Korvin, jokes, “What, you’re not going to reprimand Jason for using a bad word?”

Korvin scuffs his foot on the concrete, looking down, hand swinging in hers. “Not my business.”

Allie, feeling a little emboldened by the general good humor, interprets: “He’s not trying to make us say anything bad, so it’d be rude to reprimand.” Then, enunciating as clearly as possible, she continues, “And we have fucking manners.”

Even Dick loses the ability to hold it together in the face of such impeccable logic; he snorts loudly, claps a hand over his mouth.

Korvin grins and laughs, then, and Allie grins back.

#friend bits #folie a deux #on whfagt #on ttbh #phd-verse #verm bits #we made up a whole meta-worldbuilding for reconnecting the 'verses bc when we were talking themes and motifs in the chat #realized some realizations. tldr we tend to approach the same/similar theme from opposing ends #two sides same coin type of shit in the coolest way #edit: also yes on agreeing w never looking dick grayson straight in the eye if you're not inured to it

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years ago

Text

All Men Have Limits - X

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 4,100+

Previously on…

The next three days were one of the darkest periods of Dick Grayson’s life.

He was thrown back into the past to the moments after his parents were murdered. This felt the same but somehow worse. Because he was convinced he had the power to stop it, to keep Y/N safe.

Why did everyone he love have to die?

Was he cursed?

Was he responsible for their deaths?

He hadn’t even been able to tell Y/N how he really felt. He’d been holding back all this time, terrified that his truth would just push her away and make her decide to close off from him.

Now Dick wished he could go back in time and confess everything to her. If she had pushed him away, he would found his way back to her somehow. He sees that now – now that it’s too late.

He looked at Y/N sleeping peacefully in her bed at the manor.

Is it a miracle if conjuring was used to fight back at fate?

Dick doesn’t even remember what he said when he contacted Zatanna. He must’ve sounded hysterical and utterly desperate. His vision had been blurred from the tears he couldn’t control.

He already blacked the whole thing out.

Zatanna told them that Y/N would sleep for a few days. Even if her magic saved her life and Y/N wouldn’t even have a scar to prove she had died, her body was still exhausted from the trauma of it all.

But even with Zatanna’s reassurance, Dick hadn’t left Y/N’s side, absolutely terrified that she was still in danger, that she could still leave them forever.

When Y/N started to shift, Dick sat up straighter in the chair that he’d pulled close to her bed.

Y/N winced before her eyes fluttered open.

Dick didn’t want to overwhelm her, so he just waited for her to fully wake up.

Y/N seemed confused when she realized that she was back in her room at the manor.

Then her gaze moved to Dick.

“Bruce, is he–”

“He’s fine,” Dick cut her off before she could get herself into a panic.

Her entire body relaxed and she let out the breath she was holding in without realizing it.

“He has a concussion and he’s a little beat up. But he’s had worse,” Dick elaborated.

She raised a brow. “You tend to say that a lot.”

Dick shrugged.

But it was true: Bruce had been in much worse condition.

“You saved his life, Y/N.”

She seemed uncomfortable hearing that and didn’t meet his gaze.

“I did what anyone would’ve done,” Y/N mumbled.

“Not everyone would be that brave.”

A silence settled between them for a few moments.

“How am I here?” Y/N finally asked Dick quietly.

But they both knew she was really asking, ‘How am I alive?’

“I’m not sure you really want to know all the details…” Dick had been dreading this conversation.

“I’m assuming you called in another favor with your magic friend,” Y/N thought aloud.

“Zatanna,” Dick confirmed. “And, yes. Something like that.”

Y/N gave him a look that told him she wasn’t going to let it go so easily.

“She used a spell that reversed your injuries. She…” Dick had to pause and clear his throat and get rid of his emotions that were threatening to spill. “She used your blood to write a spell, making it far stronger than most she’s cast. It saved your life.”

Y/N watched him for a moment.

“That must’ve been scary,” she whispered, truly understanding what she had put him through.

She simply could not imagine had it been the other way around. The idea of watching Dick die was something she hoped to never live through.

“He hadn’t left your side until Alfred basically secretly drugged him and scared him to get his own bedroom.”

Y/N moved to get out of bed.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Dick panicked as she stood up to stop her.

“I feel…” she thought about it for a moment.

“Like you were stabbed to death?” Dick offered darkly.

“No. I feel…I feel fine.”

He could tell she was telling the truth.

“Perks of magically being healed?” She offered innocently.

“Guess so.”

She moved out of the bed and realized she was wearing cotton shorts and a baggy t-shirt that she most definitely didn’t die in.

What had happened while she was asleep? How long was she dead?

Y/N went to the window and looked out at the grounds of Wayne Manor.

“What happened when the cops showed up?” She asked quietly, almost in a daze.

“You’d have to ask Tim for details. I was preoccupied with…” Dick’s words died out.

Y/N turned away from the window to look at him.

She may have survived, but that was never going to make talking about that night any easier for him.

Luckily, she understood what Dick couldn’t put into words.

Dick took in a deep breath and crossed his arms, “We got them, Y/N.”

It almost seemed to good to be true. They’d been at this for months. It took them weeks just to plan their final blow.

Y/N didn’t realize how hard it would be to believe that it was truly over.

It didn’t help that there was no returning to her old life. Too much had changed.

“With the evidence you gave the FBI, there’s not a lawyer in the world that can save them. Even if a member’s hands aren’t dirty, the public shame will be enough to neutralize them for good,” Dick added with a bit of optimism.

But he could tell by Y/N’s face that she was having trouble accepting the truth.

He took a step toward her.

“If there’s members of The Court that slipped out from underneath us, if any of them try to come after you, it’ll just prove to the world that The Court of Owls is still operating. And exposing that will be the last thing they’ll want.”

She tried to force a small smile and nod, but it was unconvincing.

Dick closed the space between them and grabbed her hands.

“Y/N, you did it.”

“It’s really over,” she whispered, staring into his deep blue eyes.

He gave her a reassuring smile and nodded.

Then Dick’s focus shifted. He looked her up and down. “Y/N, you should really get some rest. You’ve been through a lot.”

Y/N sighed. “I think I’m gonna take a shower.” She smirked, “Get all that death off me.”

Dick frowned. “Not funny.”

“Jason would think it’s funny,” Y/N teased as she walked to the bathroom.

He playfully glared at her. “I’ll give you some space. But I’ll be down in the cave if you need me.”

Dick only got a few steps before Y/N called his name as if she’d forgotten something and rushed to him.

He looked at her expectantly.

Y/N stepped forward and locked her arms around Dick and buried her face into his shoulder. She closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing.

“Thank you,” she mumbled as his hands rubbed her back soothingly and he pulled her closer.

Dick wanted to tell Y/N that she didn’t have to thank him. He saved her life and he would do it again and again and again, and he would never expect gratitude for it. Because Dick knew that it was just as much for him as it was for her.

So instead he just held her in silence and felt the warmth from her body – the same body that had been ice cold and lifeless just days before.

When they finally pulled away, Dick was studying her face to make sure she was alright to be left alone.

He gave her one last look before leaving her.

Y/N took her time in the shower, making the water as hot as her skin would allow without giving it burns. There wasn’t a single bruise or cut on her. Her fingers traced over the place on her abdomen where the katana had been shoved through.

There was nothing.

She wondered if there was a price to pay for such magic. Would she be held accountable? Or would it be Dick’s friend who faced the consequences?

Y/N didn’t know how long she’d been showering, but when she finally walked out, the bathroom was filled with too much steam.

She quickly put on sweatpants and a t-shirt when her stomach started growling. She couldn’t even remember when her last meal had been.

Y/N moved to her door after deciding that going straight to the kitchen was quite necessary.

But she stopped as she heard footsteps walking past her room in the hall.

She froze, thinking it was Bruce.

What would she say to him? Would he be angry with her? Would he not react at all to her resurrection? What would hurt her more between the two?

But it wasn’t Bruce.

Tim and Damian were walking down the hallway.

“How much longer do you think he’ll stay?” She heard Damian ask.

“I don’t know. I heard the Titans have been bugging him to come back,” Tim answered. “I’m sure Kori misses him and has been texting.”

Damian just hummed in acknowledgment.

Y/N realized her hand was suspended over the doorknob.

And she had a realization: she was safe to leave.

But more importantly, she wasn’t the only one that could return to their “normal” life: so could Dick, so could everyone else in the family.

Soon, Tim would go back to his condo in the city. Jason would stop working so closely with the family he tried to disown and he’d probably stop coming around manor so often – if ever. And Bruce…Bruce would move on to new cases and return to the usual patrolling.

Y/N turned and looked at the bedroom that had become her new home in the past few months. Her personality was nowhere to be found inside. It wasn't actually hers. She was just one of its many visitors.

Y/N grabbed her duffle bag from underneath the queen-sized bed and started throwing her belongings into it.

Ten minutes later, Y/N had her jacket and shows on, and all of her belongings were packed in her bag.

She still had to deal with all her equipment that was sitting in the cave. But that was a problem for another day. Right now, she didn’t have the bandwidth to deal with it. She needed to leave – before she changed her mind.

Y/N was just yards from the front door when she heard his voice.

“Y/N?” Dick asked just loud enough to catch her.

She froze in place.

While her back was still to him, she closed her eyes in grievance from the failure of being spotted.

She slowly turned around.

“You trying to sneak out of here?” Dick asked.

It was meant to sound teasing, but she heard his disappointment loud and clear.

“It’s about time I get out of your hair.”

“We’re not exactly kicking you out…” Dick tried to joke.

“You said so yourself: it’s safe for me now.” She sighed and walked closer to him. “Look, I just…I need some time alone.”

Dick took it a bit too personally. Were they really that exhausting to be around? He thought she had started to see them as her own family. He thought things were OK.

“At least let me drive you,” he offered quietly.

“I called a cab. It’s waiting for me outside.”

Before Dick could say anything else, she quickly turned and made her escape.

Y/N knew what she was scared of. She was scared he’d tell her he was leaving Gotham now that the case had been solved. But she was even more scared that he’d tell her he was staying.

She wasn’t ready to deal with either scenario.

So, Y/N did what she did best: she ran.

————————

Y/N stared at the wall of her safe house.

The silence that she had once grown used to long ago was now irritating.

Y/N hadn’t realized how accustomed she had become to the chaos of Wayne Manor until she had torn herself away from it. Even when it was quiet there, she could feel the presence of everyone.

Now she was left only to her thoughts.

And just she was about to escape the silence and go grab food at a nearby diner, there was a knock on the door.

Y/N knew for a fact that this safe-house hadn’t be blown yet – and that included with the Wayne family. It was exactly why she chose to come here instead of the one where Bruce first found her and dragged her to Wayne Manor for her own safety.

Which was why Y/N grabbed one of her guns and checked to make sure it was loaded and the safety was off before she tiptoed to the door.

She looked through the peep hole and her stomach twisted when she saw Bruce Wayne was on the other side.

She knew he could sense her presence on the other side, and there was no hiding. So she opened the door quickly.

Bruce eyed the gun in her hand. “This has become a habit of yours.”

Y/N ignored his comment, uncocked the gun, and carefully placed it on a table near the door.

When she was finally able to take Bruce in, she noted that his face was covered in bruises and small cuts. To be honest, Y/N expected more damage after being a witness to his near-death beating.

“May I come in?” Bruce asked softly.

She blinked rapidly, realizing she had yet to invite him inside.

This was all reminiscent of that night.

And Y/N didn’t appreciate the memories and feelings Bruce was stirring up.

An awkward silence settled between them. The silence of her apartment was doing nothing to help.

“Are you okay?”

Y/N knew the question was sincere, but Bruce still managed to ask it without showing any ounce of emotion – as if he wasn’t personally invested in the matter.

“I’m fine,” she answered quickly. Her eyes softened. “Are you okay?”

He simply nodded.

Silence again.

“You can never do that again,” Bruce declared.

“Do what?”

“You risked your life to save mine. The boys refused to tell me what happened, but I saw the footage. You threw yourself in front of me.”

Y/N remained calm as she said, “You did the same for me.”

Bruce shook his head. Because they both knew it wasn’t the same thing.

The truth was that Bruce woke up to find Dick crying over Y/N’s dead body. And then a few minutes he had watched as Dick begged Zatanna to help him.

And Bruce? Bruce had been unconscious when Y/N had needed him the most.

He had protected her all these months – with his own family and his own home – just to be useless in her final moment of need.

When Bruce finally woke up recovered to find out that Y/N had fled the manor, he knew he needed to go to her. He needed to make sure she never did something so stupid as risking her life to save him.

But now Bruce stood before her and he knew he needed to tell her so much more than just that.

“What are you doing here, Bruce? Did you just plan on lecturing me again?”

But Bruce wasn’t realized he couldn’t use any words tonight.

Ever so slowly, he stepped into her space, putting less and less space between their bodies. Y/N could feel the heat coming from him. And she sucked in a gasp from his proximity. She breathed in his cologne that she’d grown to love so much that it instantly relaxed her.

Her heart beat faster and faster as his eyes shifted down to her lips, hesitating in a way that was excruciating to Y/N. But it gave her time to resist, to allow her to shut this down before it could continue.

But Y/N didn’t want to do that.

Bruce brushed her hair away from her face, then his hands shifted slightly to cup her face. His touch wasn’t soft, but insistent.

He pressed his lips to Y/Ns. Brisk and determined.

The tension finally snapped and pushed them to a passionate kiss that was long overdo.

Was this only going to cause them both more pain in the future?

Or was this what they should’ve done long ago?

Bruce pushed Y/N against a wall.

And then everything became a blur.

Bruce picked Y/N up and wrapped her legs around his waist for her, silently instructing her.

Clothes were unzipped and unbuttoned, and thrown around the apartment without thought.

Their breathing was heavy and reactive to the way their hands raced across each other’s now naked skin.

For never being at this particular safe house, Bruce found his way to the bed with ease.

From the movement of their bodies and obvious desire for one another, one thing became clear: they were never meant to only share one night together.

————

Y/N had tried with all her might to stay awake – even if that meant pulling an all-nighter.

She was trying to break the pattern. And even though Bruce had exhausted her body to no end, she didn’t want to wake up to find his side of the bed empty.

But she was shocked to open her eyes and find not only that Bruce was still in her bed, but that she had been sleeping on his bare chest with his arms wrapped tightly around her.

Y/N could feel that he was awake. Apparently he was much more disciplined than her.

Little did she know Bruce hadn’t slept at all, not wanting to miss the feeling of her against him.

Y/N slowly lifted her head, “Hi.”

He smirked at the sleepiness in her voice.

“Hi."

“Didn’t expect you to be here still,” she admitted quietly.

“I can leave if you want.” And he meant it, even though it would hurt.

“No,” she scolded him in a breathy gasp.

The tension in his body released.

Y/N shifted off of his chest

“And where do you think you’re going?” Bruce questioned.

She shifted so she was no longer resting on his chest, but laying on her side beside him so she could see his face.

“I just wanted to look at you,” she whispered innocently.

Bruce smirked at her answer.

Y/N made sure the bed sheet was successfully covering her nudity.

Bruce seemed amused with her sudden modesty, but said nothing of it.

“How did you find me here?” Y/N asked him.

It had been the first thing she’d wanted to ask when he showed up to her door last night. But Bruce hadn’t exactly given her a lot of space to speak last night.

Bruce’s jaw tightened, which was a message in its own.

“Bruceeeee,” Y/N pushed back with irritation.

“You aren’t going to like the answer.”

She glared at him. “Did you put a fucking tracker on me, Bruce Wayne?”

“Your phone.”

“When?” She asked.

“After you tried to turn yourself in to the Talons.”

Y/N sighed, clearly annoyed by the answer.

They both knew she could easily disable it now that she knew about it. Even if he hadn’t confessed it, she would’ve figured it out on her own eventually.

“You’re upset,” Bruce observed.

“How would you feel if I did the same to you? But it’s…you. And I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Need I remind you that we only met because you blackmailed me and threatened to expose my identity to the world?”

“You know that wasn’t the same,” she shot back as she rolled her eyes.

“You’re right.” Bruce sighed. “I promise I will deactivate it.”

“No,” Y/N surprised him by saying. “But I will make you a deal…you can always know where I am if I can know the same for you.”

Bruce knew this was a test. Because Y/N expected him to immediately shoot down such an offer. Couldn’t such information be used against Batman?

“Deal,” he agreed.

Y/N was so shocked by his compliance that her overwhelming emotions forced her to lean into him and capture his lips in a kiss.

“Should I make us breakfast?” She whispered to him after barely pulling away from his lips.

She lightly bumped her nose against his.

Bruce nodded with a grin.

But before Y/N could ask what he wanted, a knock at the door interrupted them.

Her heart raced at the thought of another intrusion – and a less welcomed one.

Bruce frowned, but remained calm.

“Stay here,” he warned before placing a light kiss on her bare shoulder.

Before she could argue, he slipped out of bed.

He put his boxer briefs on, but didn’t bother with a shirt or pants.

Even though Bruce told Y/N to stay put, she still figured a mysterious knock on the door was a sign to put clothes on.

She practically threw on her underwear, but couldn’t find a single piece of clothing she had on yesterday. Yet somehow she found Bruce’s white button down and quickly buttoned on to give herself some semblance of decency.

Bruce looked through the peephole.

He held his breath.

Bruce would’ve rather it been an attempted attack on Y/N than…this.

“Y/N, I know you’re there,” Dick called from the other side of the door.

Bruce knew she couldn’t hear him. But he knew there was no other choice than to open the door.

Bruce looked apathetic as he faced his first protégé.

But Dick knew Bruce well enough to see that there was guilt hidden underneath.

He took in Bruce’s attire – or really, the lack there of.

Dick huffed out a laugh, “Of course. I should’ve known better.”

He shook his head and turned to leave.

Bruce slammed the door shut and rubbed his face in distress.

Before he could even think of something to say to Y/N, she rushed past him and threw the door open again.

“Dick! Wait!” Y/N called to him and caught him in the hallway.

By some miracle, Dick stopped and turned to her.

He looked her up and down, lingering far too long on the white button down she was wearing that so clearly belonged to Bruce.

“Needed some time alone, huh?”

Throwing Y/N’s own words back at her was meant to come out harsh and cold. But it ended up sounding heartbroken and betrayed.

And, honestly, that was worse to Y/N.

She have any idea what to say to him.

What would even make him feel better?

So, Y/N just watched Dick slowly walk away.

She stepped back into the safe house with tears in her eyes.

Bruce immediately moved to her.

“Y/N–”

But Y/N shook her head, stopping him from saying anything more.

“I should go,” Bruce told her.

He couldn’t help himself as he reached to wipe her tears away.

“I should probably give you your shirt back,” she said between sniffles.

Had the situation been different, it would’ve sounded funny.

But there was no humor here.

Bruce’s innocent touch of wiping her tears away made it hard for Y/N to concentrate.

So she escaped into the bedroom and quickly changed into her own clothes.

When she walked back out, she had all of Bruce’s stuff in her arms.

Once Bruce was in his clothes again, he didn’t know what to do or say next.

It was hard for Bruce to leave Y/N when she was so visibly upset. Dick wasn’t here to make Y/N feel better this time...and that was all Bruce’s fault.

“I’m not used to saying bye to you,” Y/N finally broke the tension.

Bruce’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

A sad look flashed across her face as she processed her thoughts. “Usually I wake up…and you’re gone. You don’t even give me a chance to.”

Bruce bowed his head in shame. “I shouldn’t have done that to you,” he finally admitted to her.

Y/N nodded slowly, agreeing with him.

“But you did,” she whispered.

Her voice sounded congested from all the tears she just shed.

“And all this time, I let myself think it was OK or even that I was the one who had messed it all up.”

Bruce quickly shook his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/N.”

Her eyes darkened. “Why did you have to make it so hard to stay away from you, Bruce?”

An he knew he deserved that. “I’ve been selfish,” he confessed.

Bruce hesitated before giving her a slow kiss on the cheek.

It was the first time Y/N had ever seen him unsure of himself.

Without saying anything more, he turned and left.

“Goodbye, Bruce.” Y/N whispered long after he could still hear her.

----------------------------------------

Part XI

Did I ruin your life? Let me know 😂

#all men have limits part 10 #dick grayson x reader #bruce wayne x reader #dick grayson x reader x bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader x dick grayson #batboys #batfam #dick grayson reader insert #bruce wayne reader insert #nightwing x reader #batman x reader

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cuttoothed · 4 years ago

Text

For the second day of @jonmartinweek, mostly for the prompt "injury", though also a little bit "love confession" (by omission).

Set directly after episode 92. Content warnings for mild descriptions of Jon’s canonical injuries (blood, burns).

Things are...tense, when they go back down to the Archives. Actually, “tense” is probably an understatement, after finding out that Elias murdered not only Gertrude Robinson, but also the unknown man in Document Storage—who as it turned out was none other than Juergen bloody Leitner.

A lot to take on board, all in all.

Basira seems to have accepted her new employment status with eerie calm, and starts setting up at Sasha’s old desk (oh god, Sasha’s dead, has been for months), fetching notebooks and folders from the stationery cupboard and arranging pens and highlighters in a desk tidy. Daisy is nowhere to be seen—thankfully, Martin thinks, because she was even scarier than usual in Elias’ office. Melanie storms off into the stacks and there are sounds of shouting and things hitting the floor, which Martin is in no hurry to investigate. Tim sits at his desk with his feet propped up for about five minutes, then stands up and says: “Fuck this, I’m off to the pub.” He doesn’t invite anyone else to go with him, and Martin thinks their presence probably wouldn’t be welcome.

Jon arrives in about half an hour later, smelling of fresh cigarette smoke. Normally Martin would disapprove, but the way things are right now he’s tempted to take up a few bad habits himself. Jon looks...exhausted, defeated, his shoulders slumped wearily. His clothes are smudged with dirt, and there’s drying blood crusted around the injury on his neck; the bandages on his hand are starting to slip, revealing the angry, raw burns beneath.

Martin’s not sure he’s ever been so happy to see someone in his life.

Jon gives him a small, tired smile as he passes, then heads into his office and shuts the door. Martin knows that no sane person would try to go straight back to work looking like they’d just been through a war zone and still with an open wound; he is also aware that Jonathan Sims is the sort of person to do precisely that. He hesitates for a few moments, then makes a decision.

He fetches the first aid kit from the break room, and goes and knocks on Jon’s door. It’s a firm knock, a knock that he hopes says “I’m coming in whether you like it or not”, because it’s not beyond Jon to try to avoid them all for an extended period.

“Come in,” Jon calls, and even his voice sounds exhausted. When he sees Martin enter the room, his expression softens in a way that’s difficult to parse. Is he just relieved that it isn’t one of the others? Or is he actually pleased that it’s Martin?

It’s been two months since Jon went into hiding while suspected of murder, and the last time Martin saw him he had been quite sure Jon was planning to—to hurt himself, somehow. Before that, though, there had been a time when they were...well, close, in a way. Jon had let his guard down around Martin, in the midst of being so suspicious and afraid. He had trusted Martin, when he didn’t trust anyone else, had eaten lunch with him and talked about boring, ordinary things, the tight set of his shoulders relaxing just a little. He had even laughed, sometimes. It had been, despite everything, one of the happier times in Martin’s life, and if that’s not pathetic he doesn’t know what is.

“Hi, Jon,” he says.

“Martin,” says Jon, his tone soft. “It’s so—ahh, how are you?”

“How am I? You’re the one with a bloody great gash in your neck and looking like you put your hand in a fire.” Martin brandishes the first aid kit. “You really should go to the hospital, but I know it would be a waste of my time suggesting it.”

“Thank you for bringing that,” Jon says. “I appreciate it. You can just leave it on the desk.”

“Nope,” Martin tells him cheerily, setting the kit down and opening it. “I know you, Jon. If I leave it with you it’ll still be sitting here untouched tomorrow. Plus, I got my first aid certification when I was working in the library. It’s probably expired now, but I think it still counts.”

Jon looks as if he’s about to protest, but then he huffs a breath that might be a laugh, and nods in concession.

“All right then,” he says.

Martin snaps on a pair of disposable gloves and directs Jon to sit on the desk and undo the top two buttons on his shirt, so Martin can examine the wound on his neck. It’s shallow, fortunately, and the bleeding seems to have already stopped. Martin cleans away the crusted blood as gently as he can, though Jon still winces a few times.

“What happened?” Martin asks, as he smears on antibiotic cream.

“Daisy. She, ah, she decided that I was dangerous. Needed to be dealt with. Fortunately Basira was able to convince her otherwise.”

“Bloody hell,” Martin mutters. He’s not sure why he’s surprised; he’s always felt afraid around Daisy, like a rabbit being in the same room with a fox. But he just sort of assumed it was typical Martin fear of, well, everything. He never thought Daisy would actually hurt any of them. He applies a bandage carefully over the wound, and then turns his attention to Jon’s hand. Unwrapping the bandages reveals the red, blistered mess beneath, and Martin hisses in sympathy.

“Please tell me you went to the hospital for this.”

“I went to a walk-in clinic,” Jon says. “They cleaned it up, gave me some antibiotics and painkillers. They, uh, they did recommend I see my GP for follow up monitoring, and that I should get a referral to a physiotherapist, but, well, it’s been a busy few days.”

“Jon,” Martin sighs, exasperated, and Jon smiles a bit shakily.

“I know,” he says. “I will go to a GP, I promise. It’s just a bit tricky when you’re wanted for murder. Anyway, it seems to be healing rather well, all things considered.”

Martin considers whether to apply antibiotic cream, but the skin doesn’t seem to be broken, and he knows it’s best not to touch the area more than needed. Instead, he rewraps it with clean, dry bandages, being sure to keep them loose.

“How did this happen?” he asks, to distract himself from the fact that he is, technically, holding Jon’s hand. Jon gives a self-deprecating laugh.

“I, uh, I was trying to get information from a devotee of the Lightless Flame. This was her price.”

“The Lightless Flame? That cult—from the statements?”

“The same. As it turns out, a—a lot of things from the statements are real. Unpleasantly so.”

“I—yeah, I sort of figured that out when Tim and I got trapped in these weird corridors for days by that Michael...thing.”

Jon’s face blanches, his brows furrowing.

“You—god, Martin, I didn’t know. Are you—I mean, you’re okay, obviously, but— Have you seen Michael since?”

“No, and I hope I don’t.” Martin feels faintly nauseous at the memory. He doesn’t realize his hands are trembling slightly until the fingers of Jon’s hand, the unburned one, touch his wrist.

“I’m so sorry, Martin,” he says. “When I realized a-about Sasha, about that thing, I hoped I could take care of it myself, spare you and Tim. I never wanted to drag you into all this.”

“I don’t think there’s much avoiding it,” Martin mutters miserably. “And you didn’t seem to mind dragging Melanie into it, while you were on the lam.”

“I shouldn’t have asked her for help either. It wasn’t fair to put any of you in the position of aiding a suspected murderer.”

“I never believed you did it,” Martin tells him fiercely. “It just would have been nice to know you were okay, you know?”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I—I wanted to contact you, but it seemed too risky. I knew the police would be watching you, since we’re friends. Or—or at least friendly.”

Everyone I’ve talked to says you and him were close. Martin had been ridiculously pleased by the accusation at the time, and he feels the same now, with Jon’s injured hand cradled in both of his. Jon trusts Martin with his wounds, his vulnerability. Jon wanted to contact him; Jon thinks they’re friends.

“I—” Martin starts to say, and he doesn’t know if his next words will be I missed you or I worry about you or some humiliating romantic confession blurted out and impossible to take back. He draws a deep breath, and instead says: “I’m glad you’re back, and that you’re okay. I don’t have that many friends, I can’t afford to lose one.”

He says it like a joke, and mercifully, Jon takes it as one, and gives a relieved laugh. Martin realizes he’s long since finished bandaging the burn and is now just sort of...holding Jon’s hand; he releases it, reluctantly, and Jon smiles, lifting his other hand to touch the bandage on his throat.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says, hopping down from the desk. “I appreciate it, really.”

“As a token of your appreciation, you can go ahead and make a doctor’s appointment for that hand,” says Martin firmly, closing up the first aid kit.

“I will,” Jon says solemnly, and Martin believes him, but he’s also going to check in and remind him at the end of the day because Jon has a tendency to forget about trivial things like his own wellbeing. It’s just who he is, and Martin’s made his peace with it, like he’s made his peace with being utterly, hopelessly gone for Jonathan Sims.

“I was going to make some tea, if you fancy,” he says as he opens the door. “You look like you could use a cup.”

“Oh, yes, that would be lovely, thank you. Oh, and Martin?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad I’m back as well. I—” Jon hesitates a moment, then says: “I missed your tea.”

It’s not much of a declaration, but Martin understands what Jon means by it; for the two of them, it means a lot.

#the magnus archives #jonmartinweek2021 #tma #my fic #jonmartin #cw injury

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