#if contacts jason isn’t because his glasses keep falling or because it's fun when he looks on the verge of tears i don't want it!!!!

[yourthirdparent]

if i read one more jason grace fic where he wears contacts i will SCREAM!!!!!! put those glasses back on that man! i require jason in glasses for enrichment!!!

[fbfh]

light up the dark [V] - leo x reader

genre: romance + action + enemies to lovers kinda

word count: 2.4k

au: none

pairing: Leo x gothy!child of eros!fem reader

requested: yes teehee

warnings: spoilers for HOO but like what’s new, at least one fuck, mentions of breakfast foods and burger king, one “cranberry fucknut”, brief visit to a historical memorial site, I think that’s it????

summary: you have a very weird dream that leads you to realize you’re actually on some kind of quest! very fun! you, Leo, and Jason follow a lead, find out Chiron’s sending you guys some backup, and realize you’re going to need a very large airbnb

listen to: making mirrors - gotye aka the best dream sequence music

                also we’re the rats. it’s not relevant just living in my brain.

a/n: honest to god it tookme so long to write this i forget what happens in the first half rip

also requests r open uwu

Your dream is unnerving, and not just because you had spent years in a dreamless sleep and forgot what dreaming was like. Okay, partially because of that, but also because of the atmosphere. 

You’re standing in a dark room. It’s pitch black, but you can make out the shape of the room, which is unusual to say the least. It’s long and rectangular, and the ceiling has cylindrical indents, almost as if giant logs were supposed to fit there. The indents go across the short side, with another in front of it, like a rope bridge across a river. Giant curved metallic discs like flat mushrooms are embedded in the ground at regular intervals. 

You get the feeling something’s missing. You stare up at the ceiling trying to get more information, when something hot and glowing presses against the roof. It shines through, casting everything in a strange pink light. You can’t see it, but you know what it is. A translucent sundial that gave off a glowing orange cast.

Sunstone. 

You look back down not wanting to hurt your eyes, and they fall on someone else in the room. He hadn’t been there a second ago. He’s blonde, and looking up at the ceiling, seemingly unbothered by the blinding light. 

“He has it,” he says, wistfully, almost regretfully. 

"Who?" You question. 

"I can't pronounce his name, no one can."

"How can we get it back if we can't find him?" He smiles, liking how you know what he needs you to do before he even tells you. 

"I can't tell you his name, but he's very old… some may even say archaic…" He looks at you with intention, searching for a spark of understanding. He doesn’t find what he’s looking for, and continues, “and not far from here. Which is good, since I need you to get it back for me.” 

“How do we find it?” He tosses you a small, clear container filled with what looks like yellow slime. You look at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“It’s a drop of sunshine,” he explains, “don’t touch it or you’ll burn up. It’ll glow when you get closer to what you’re looking for.” You tuck it in your jacket pocket.

“Can-”

Before you can get out the rest of the sentence, you feel like you’re being pulled out of deep water. Your eyes shoot open, and you take in a quick breath through your nose. You open and close your eyes a few times, and push yourself into a sitting position. There’s a weight on your stomach and you trace the hand back to Jason, who had gently nudged you awake moments ago. His mouth is open and there’s a stale smile, like he was about to tell you to rise and shine. Your stare is unwavering, and he retracts his hand. 

“Uh… breakfast is ready,” he says, turning back and heading over to the couch. 

“Kay,” you mutter, still groggy and disoriented. Maybe sleep just isn’t for you. Jason hesitates about half way across the room, noticing the lack of cat-like vengefulness in your tone of voice.

“...You okay?” he asks softly. 

“Fine, just a weird dream,” you roll your shoulders, back sore and stiff, to try and loosen the two stubborn knots just below your shoulder blades. His eyebrows furrow at your words and you continue, “I’m starting to think I should add a little chloroform to my sleepy time tea.” 

“What happened?” he asks, sounding way more serious than you’d expected.

“I dunno, I-” he cut you off, calling for Leo. Jason encourages you to tell them what you’d dreamed about as in depth as possible once Leo comes in from the sitting area, so you don’t have time to gauge how he seems after last night. You feel a little silly trying to describe a surreal dream to them, especially since they seem to be paying such rapt attention. After recalling as many details as you could, they sat in silence for a minute. They share a look, then sigh in unison. Jason pushes up his glasses and squeezes the bride of his nose as Leo lets out a soft ‘fuck’. 

“I’ll go iris message Chiron, Leo, do you want to get some food and offerings to burn?” Jason says. Leo agrees, and Jason’s already in the sitting area, misting water in the air with a squirt bottle. Leo puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Why don’t you get dressed, I already made some coffee,” he says, the spike of hesitance that shot through his stomach at his instigated physical contact dissolving when you nod sleepily. An unusually warm feeling clouds through you, less distant and detached than normal. You realize while digging through your bag that for whatever reason, you didn’t hate the feeling of Leo’s hand on your shoulder. You grab your clothes from your bag, and feel a weight in your jacket. You reach into the pocket, and pull out the “slime” from your dream. It glows briefly, fading as you walk towards the bathroom. Huh, you think, at least now we know what to look for. You’re grateful for the example as you get dressed and freshen up, wondering what the hell happens next. 

Burning the food doesn’t take long. Leo throws the extra breakfast they’d ordered onto the metal table on the patio, except for a piece of toast he held in his hands. He summons fire until the toast is engulfed in flames, and drops it with the rest. He fans the smoke and asks for guidance, protection, typical pre quest stuff. After a minute or two, he pours out a pitcher of water to extinguish the flames, and heads back into the sitting area with Jason. On his way, he watches you through the open bathroom door for a second as you put on your makeup. You sure are different from girls he’d liked in the past. A strong twinge of pain from the previous night makes him flinch. He shoves it away, and takes a seat, greeting Chiron through iris message. Jason had just finished filling him in on the dream and the sundial, and he looks worried.

“I was afraid this might be the case. I'd gotten word that something like this might have happened, but I hoped it was just hearsay… I'm sorry boys, but you're most definitely on a mission from the gods. The story behind that sundial is long and complicated; in summary, if Apollo does not have his sundial by june, summer cannot happen."

"Wh- like, time will stop?" Leo says. 

"Will it just skip to autumn?" Jason adds. 

"What about Persephone?"

"Can Demeter do anything?" 

Chiron holds up his hands to quiet them. 

"I wish I could say, but no one really knows what will happen, only that we do not wish to find out."

"So, what do we do?" Jason asks. 

"Who can I send?" Chiron says to himself, "Dear gods, this is… unfortunate."

"Chiron," Jason says again, getting his attention. 

"Right, I'm sorry my boy, this whole situation is… preoccupying." Jason agrees, and asks what they should do next. 

"Get as much information as you can from what Apollo has told you. I'll gather some people to send over at once, they'll be on their way shortly. This is most distressing…" he trails off, lost in thought again, and the iris message cuts out. Jason's stomach is in knots. 

After freshening up, you get dressed, having chosen your clothes deliberately before. If shit’s about to hit the fan, which it looks like it is, you’re going to need a strong balance of comfortable and kick ass. Plus, it’s still the cold part of spring, and New England weather is no joke. 

You assess yourself in the mirror, satisfied with your choice; half black half gray cargo pants with chain belts, a long sleeved fishnet top with a black crop top over it, and one of your favorite pairs of platform boots. You topped it off with a layered choker studded with black jewels and delicate chains, asymmetrical earrings - one attached to an ear cuff, the other dangling - and a ring that looks like a snake wrapped around your finger. Last but not least, a dark olive green bomber jacket with ‘god save the queen’ written on the back in paint. 

Your mind wanders as you lean closer to the mirror, laser focused on perfecting your eyeliner. The memory of Leo’s hand on your shoulder creeps back up, and your brow furrows at the panicked flush to your cheeks, wondering why you didn’t push him off. 

‘Some cranberry fucknut broke his heart last night, I didn’t want him to feel worse’, you think deliberately, refusing room for any objections or alternative solutions your brain keeps offering up. You finish your makeup relatively quickly, pleased at how much better it looks when you don’t sleep in it for years. Your hair is… hanging in there, but you can’t drop everything and redye it now. At least you know what color you want next - a nice, coral tinted red. You’ll have to keep an eye out the next time you go shopping. 

Finally, you’re ready. You put away your makeup and pajamas, and make your way over to the boys. You grab some coffee and pick at a muffin, the strategy session beginning. 

Jason takes a sip of his own coffee, scowling at the slightly burnt taste.

“Where should we start looking? Do we have any decent leads?”

You sip your coffee, your face mirroring Jason’s moments before.

“The guy from my dream-”

“Apollo,” Jason interjects.

“Right,” you continue, “he said whoever has what we’re looking for has a really hard to pronounce name or something. Maybe we can start there.”

After some back and forth, and consulting of travel guides, you find a memorial for some historical figure with a name that definitely would have gotten him bullied. 

“Wasn’t that guy a demigod?” Leo asks, and Jason confirms. You’re already checking the maps scattered around for a route.

“It looks like it’s pretty much just further west from where we are, we can probably get there pretty easily,” you remark. Jason and Leo look at you, then each other. No one has any better ideas, and at least it’s some kind of lead. 

~

Four and a half hours later, you sat in the car in stumped silence. It took almost three hours to get up to the memorial site, an hour to look around and realize there is absolutely nothing there that can help you at all, ten minutes to debate what to do next, and twenty minutes to get burger king, since no one had eaten since breakfast. 

“Well, that sucked.” 

Leo and Jason give you a look, knowing you’re right.

“Yeah, it did.” Jason agrees matter of factly, earning a small chuckle from you and Leo. 

“So what do we do now?” Leo asks. 

“Well, no one’s around, we could probably iris message Chiron-” before he could finish his sentence, a shimmery image of a tan girl with choppy dark hair appears in front of him. 

Jason and the girl - Piper, apparently - greet each other enthusiastically, then Leo follows suit. It looks like she’s in a cab, holding something at arm's length. You make it out to be a phone, probably to trick her cab driver into thinking she’s on a facetime call or something. Two other people lean over, one blonde and smiling, the other dark haired and irritable, and more greetings are exchanged. You lean slightly to the side so you’ll be out of site and hopefully won’t have to make any introductions. Leo seems to catch onto this, and when Piper’s eyes land on the edge of your shoulder.

“So did Chiron send anyone else?” he asks before she can say anything. 

“Yeah,” she replies, “Frank and Hazel are coming from camp Jupiter; Frank’s flying, and Hazel’s getting a ride from Arion,” Leo and Jason nod in understanding, picking up instantly on her deliberate word choice. Christ, you’re going to have to get a bigger place than that hotel room.  

“Uh… Percy and Annabeth just started spring break, so they’ll be coming soon. Hazel should get there first, for…” she glances at the cab driver, “obvious reasons, and me, Nico, and Will are on our way now, we should be there in a few hours.” 

Your skin is already feeling prickly from the idea of being around that many people. They talk for a few more minutes, and Jason says he’ll tell them the specific address as soon as possible before ending the call.

Thankfully, you all had repacked the car with your bags from the hotel room before you left, just in case you needed anything, so there’s no need to make the two and a half hour trip back to the hotel. You sigh and turn to the boys.

“Why don’t we go get some groceries and stuff, and I can get us an air bnb.” 

They agree, pleasantly surprised and grateful for the normalcy of something like grocery shopping,  and you ask how many people there are going to be.

“Uh, should be te-”

“Eleven.” Leo says firmly. Jason looks like he’s going to say something, but he bites back whatever it is. Leo’s hands normally dance around like swirling snow, light and natural with subtle patterns if you can figure them out. But right now, his normal subconscious movements seem to be heavier, more intentional. His relaxed expression is set in stone, a silent plea to move on, act like everything’s normal, and you know he’s covering up the depth of the wound that girl left on his heart. A twinge of concern flares in your gut, and you blink, looking away. 

“Okay,” you say, pulling out a pen and notepad from your bag to write out a grocery list, “Let’s go. What do we need?”

Jason pulls out of the parking lot, and begins to head to the nearest box store. Your eyes dart over to Leo involuntarily a few times, and by the time you’re almost there, he seems to be almost back to himself. Subconsciously relieved, your mind starts to wander back to the list, skimming it one more time to make sure you don’t forget anything. 

Maybe you can pick up some hair dye while you’re here.

[rosesgonerogue]

I didn’t so much fall in love- It kicked me in the face Chapter Three

The Wayne Manor was exactly what Marinette had come to expect after years of knowing famous people. It was expertly decorated, but it had an almost somber feel to it - it matched Gotham’s general aesthetic. 

Also meeting expectations was the Wayne family itself. Marinette had done her homework, taking hours to research each member long before setting foot in Gotham. It was clear that they had been warned to behave, but chaos still bubbled beneath their calm facades, she could see it in their eyes. 

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, allow me to introduce you to Masters Bruce, Richard, Jason, Timothy, and Damian.” 

Marinette nodded to each in turn, her hand unconsciously tightening on Leo’s. She took a steadying breath. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and this is my son Leo. If you’re interested, I made some macarons for you, as I do for most meetings with my clients.” She set the box on the coffee table. “I would recommend eating them in the next day or so.” 

Tim looked like he was going to faint, and it was then that Marinette noticed the harsh bruise on his jaw - almost like he’d gotten kicked. Surely it had to be a coincidence, there was no way… 

Damian huffed, and the entire family seemed to stiffen. When he spoke, his words were sharp, acidic. “You’re meant to be a seamstress, not a baker. Besides, what kind of professional brings a child to a business meeting? Is his father too worthless to watch him?” 

Everyone in the room froze, and Marinette could feel the warmth drain out of her. She felt eerily similar to when Tikki used ice powers, in fact. There was no way for her to know, but when she spoke, Marinette’s words carried the weight of an avalanche. 

“You yourself are legally a child sitting in on a business meeting, Monsieur Wayne, and I did not object to it because I trust your father to parent you how he sees fit. I could explain to you that other than myself, my only options for Leo’s care are my parents, who are busy preparing for my mother’s surgery while running the most successful bakery in Paris, or my friends, who are all dealing with professional lives of their own. I could explain that, but I shouldn’t have to, because he is my son, and I will raise him as I see fit. And I’m a fashion designer, not a seamstress. This isn’t the seventeenth century.” She paused, staring the offender down. “Do you have any further objections, Monsieur Wayne?” 

A small part of her glowed in satisfaction when Damian ducked his head. “Do as you must.” She missed the way that Tim blinked owlishly, exchanging surprised looks with Dick.

Instead she straightened her jacket, murmuring a few comforting words to Leo before finally letting his hand go. “I prefer getting to know my clients before I actually begin, it helps me make the perfect piece. Does some-”

“I’ll be first,” Jason said, shoving Dick out of the way.

“Perfect. If you’ll come this way, Monsieur Todd, we can sit…”

*************

The satisfied look on Jason’s face was more than a little disconcerting to Tim. He didn’t really feel like hearing the woman who’d occupied his mind for the past day, so he turned his attention elsewhere. He still needed to come to terms with the fact that she had gone head to head with Damian and come out on top after all.

Leo was scrutinizing one of the paintings on the wall, a tiny version of MDC herself. He had the same dark hair, light freckles on pale skin, and wide blue eyes…

No. Please no. Tim glanced subtly at Bruce. Surely he wouldn’t try to adopt either parts. Marinette was an adult with two living parents, and Leo had Marinette, so they were safe, right? 

Regardless, that would be an issue for another time. Tim found himself crouching next to Leo. “That painting is of Monsieur Bruce’s parents,” he said in French. 

The child switched his soulful eyes to Tim’s face, his expression serious. “You know French.” 

“Yes, I really like languages, so I learned as many as I could,” Tim said, resisting the urge to ruffle the boy’s hair. “Your name is Leo, right?” 

“Yes, Monsieur.” 

“You can call me Tim. Are you enjoying Gotham so far?” 

Leo thought hard for a moment. “Maman and I had a lot of fun today, but yesterday was a little scary, the way it sometimes gets in Paris.” 

He desperately wanted to ask Leo more about the scary things in Paris, but it wasn’t fair to ask a child. Instead, Tim let the boy pull him around the parlor, asking questions about anything he found even remotely interesting. 

“And that is the trophy Dick, my oldest brother, got for gymnastics in seventh grade,” Tim explained, hefting the boy higher up so he could see the object in question more clearly. “That’s the ribbon Jason got for a creative writing contest, and Damian’s martial arts trophy. A couple of these belong to Bruce…” 

Leo stared at the glass case like it would afford him the answers to the universe before looking up to Tim’s face. “Where are your trophies?” 

“What?” 

“Everyone else has trophies. Where are yours?” 

“That’s… I mean, I have some, I just didn’t think they were very important,” Tim said with a shrug. 

“But families should be together,” Leo said with wide, unblinking eyes. “That’s why I wanted to come with Maman, even though it made your brother be mean to her.” 

Tim smiled, pushing down the barrage of emotions fighting within him. “You’re right, you’re absolutely right. Your Maman is a very smart lady.” 

“Maman is the smartest,” Leo said solemnly. 

“You must be right again,” Tim said conspiratorially. “She’s also the best at making clothes.” 

The boy’s face didn’t change in the least, there wasn’t a trace of a smile, but he slowly patted Tim’s cheek. “I like you.” 

“That’s high praise.” 

TIm golted, his cheeks flooding with color when he found himself next to Marinettte. She was smiling kindly when she said, “Thank you for watching Leo, that really wasn’t necessary. But I didn’t know you spoke French. That’s very impressive, Mr. Drake.”

“Call me Tim, please. And you’ve caught me, I have a deep love of languages. It’s helped in this position, though,” he said with a smile. “Business transactions are a lot easier when you don’t need a translator.” 

“I’ve also found that to be true,” Marinette said, lips quirked. “It’s finally your turn for your consultation. We can do it with or without Leo, whatever you would prefer.” 

“Leo and I are friends now, of course I would need his opinion!” Tim said, just barely noticing that he was still holding the child. “After all, I need his help making sure that I have the best suit at the entire Wayne Gala.” 

That actually coaxed a smile out of the boy, and the resemblance between him and his mother had never been stronger. Marinette looked surprised, but her eyes were warm. “A lot of designers despair over men’s fashion, you know. People lash out whenever you stray too far from the traditional designs, and no one can really reinvent the suit. While it doesn’t let us exercise as much creativity and freedom as women’s fashion, I actually love things like this. Men’s suits are all about attention to detail - how I can work to show your personality in an appropriate but memorable manner. Do you have any specific requests?” 

Against his will, Tim felt his face heat up, doubtlessly turning as red as his vigilante suit. “I fully admit that I was the one who originally commissioned you. I even had to fight Damian. And yet, I haven’t thought about the specifics of what I might want until now.” 

Thankfully, Marinette laughed. “You’d be surprised at how often that happens. That’s perfectly fine. I just didn’t want to leave out anything you desperately wanted. Do you have a specific color for your suit in mind?” 

“Black?” Tim asked helplessly. “I’ve followed your career for a long time, Mademoiselle, but that doesn’t mean that I know anything about fashion. I just know that your fashion seems… magical.” 

Marinette’s lips quirked upwards, a knowing sparkle in her eyes. “That’s an interesting comment. I have a proposal for you, Timothy Drake. If you have any pressing requests I will include them, but I want to keep yours a surprise.” 

Tim swallowed, completely unprepared to deal with the sparkle in her eyes. “I trust you.”

“The exterior is going to be a neutral color because you’re a business man who needs to keep up appearances. That means the most fun we’ll get to have is with the lining. Any opinions?” Marinette asked. “I only bring it up because it’s the most flexible part.” 

“I don’t know, I think all of my suit linings are black or gray,” Tim said, slightly distressed. 

Leo stared him down with serious eyes before saying, “Maman, the inside needs to be red. Ladybug red.” 

“Ladybug? You want me to look like a beetle?” Tim asked. 

Marinette smiled slightly at his comment, but her eyes were fixed on her son. “Are you sure, mon cher? Ladybug red?”

“That’s what he needs,” Leo confirmed. 

Thinking about his brothers’ laughter if he showed up in a polka-dot suit, Tim asked again, “Ladybugs? Are you sure, Leo?” 

“Oh, not the bug,” the fashion designer assured him, finally breaking eye contact with her son. “She tries to keep her existence quiet, but Ladybug is one of Paris’s heroes.” 

“She’s the best hero,” Leo said solemnly. “But you’re nice like she is. You need to have red like she does.” 

There was a strange look in Marinette’s eye that Tim couldn’t quite decipher, but she smiled nonetheless. “You should feel honored. Once someone back in Paris asked me to make something in Ladybug red, and Leo hid the fabric so I had to make it in a slightly different shade. He must really like you.” 

He wanted to say something, anything. Tim had never felt so… he didn’t even know how to describe it. He had spent his life building it into what he had wanted it to be, propping himself up with his accomplishments. He stood alone in his skyscraper, trying to catch up to Bruce and his brothers, but Marinette and Leo had violently dragged him down to the ground, standing outside with everyone. Maybe his family had never been as distant as he thought. 

Or maybe the caffeine withdrawal was finally getting to him.

Taglist: 

@ii-fox-demon @queen-in-a-flower-crown @novaloptr @saphiraazure2708 @iamabrownfox @smolplantmum @redhoodedtoad @loysydark @slytheringinger300 @finallyaniguana @brokenwordsarehard2 @abrx2002 @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @moonlightstar64  @marinettepotterandplagg @black-streak @purplesundaze @maribat-is-lifeblood

Note: 

Damian’s going to be a jerk in this. Beware. 

[hazza-bear-care]

Stay Safe (1/3)

A/N: I FINALLY STARTED WATCHING CRIMINAL MINDS!!! Granted I am still on season 1, I feel a little more comfortable writing about the BAU crew. Dr. Reid is definitely my favorite so far, but there’s always room for improvement lol. Anyway, enjoy. PS my timeframe is all over the place. I described Spencer’s looks from the later seasons, but kept the season 1 characters because they’re the only ones I know right now lol. Sorry for the confusion, but I hope you guys enjoy it anyway!

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (oc)

Warnings: THREE CHAPTERS WORTH OF SMUT!!!! This one is light (fingering mostly, kinda public, dirty talk from Dr. Spencer Reid himself)

~~~~~~

Nova Calderon is a child psychotherapist born and raised in Baltimore, Maryland. After graduating from Towson University with her bachelor’s in criminal psychology and receiving her master’s from John’s Hopkins, she finally felt ready to start a job with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. 

Shouldering her black leather satchel, File-O-Fax clutched tightly the grip of her left elbow, a blistering cup of coffee in her right hand, she nudged her way through swarms of people. Silently praying that she wasn’t late, Nova took a seat on the Metro and decided to flip through her portfolio: three years interning under the best of the best in the Pentagon, a permanent position following not long after. But, the Pentagon couldn’t sustain her for too long: by the time she finished a pile of reports, fifteen more showed up on her desk. She longed to do more than just basic homeland security. Nova always knew she wanted to work in the government, but she didn’t spend all that money and energy in school to be someone’s assistant. After those three years and six months, Nova had the opportunity to join the BAU after her boss had put in a good word with Jason Gideon about her work ethic as well as her interactions with the children that often passed through the halls whenever a higher-up decided to bring one in for fun or even school field trips. 

The train screeched to a halt and she assumed, quite correctly, that the current stop was hers. Jumping up from her seat and startling the creep sitting next to her and almost breaking his nose with her shoulder, she scrambled off the train and scurried through the streets of Quantico. Finally locating the right building, she entered and was immediately intimidated by the hustle and bustle happening around her. 

“Hi. I’m Nova Calderon. I have a meeting with a Jason Gideon?”

“Agent Gideon is out for today, but his associate Aaron Hotchner will be conducting your interview.” After listening to the instructions the receptionist gave her on how to find Aaron Hotchner, Nova straightened herself up and mentally prepared herself for how this interview would go. She walked through the double glass doors with a deep breath, and the people in the room went quiet. 

“Well, hello. How can I help you?” An attractive black man said from his desk, his jaw on the floor. 

“Um, I don’t think I’m in the right place. I’m looking for an Aaron Hotchner?”

“You’re in the right place, sweet cheeks. I’ll show you to his office.” The same man responded, his flirting skills leaving something to be desired.

“I was told to wait for a Jennifer Jareau?” Nova replied, trying very hard not to roll her eyes at the man attempting to approach her. 

“That’s me. I will show you to Agent Hotchner’s office. Follow me, please.” A cute blonde instructed, leading Nova up a ramp and to an office with a closed door. Jareau held a finger up, signaling for Nova to wait until the coast was clear. The brief pause allowed Nova to glance around at who she hoped would be her new coworkers: A dark haired woman who looked like she couldn’t be bothered with Nova, the same man that flirted with her just a few seconds ago, his nose now buried in a manila envelope as a way to hide his staring, another blonde girl who had a big smile on her face and shot Nova a thumbs up for luck, and a skinny man with curly hair and a little scruff not bothering to hide his wandering eyes. His gaze was almost scrutinizing, scraping up and down Nova’s body repeatedly. Their eyes met and immediately the two both felt a fire erupt on their cheeks as Hotchner’s door opened and Nova got roped in. 

~~~~~~

Three days later was Nova’s first official day. Agent Hotchner was incredibly impressed with Nova’s portfolio and resume. While working with children wasn’t something the BAU did regularly, it was still a good choice to have a child psychotherapist on the team. Just because the typical profiles include men in their 20′s and higher, doesn’t mean a child still can’t be involved. 

“Morning, Nova. Are you ready for your first day?” Elle asked from her desk, legs propped up on the flat surface as the team awaited further instruction. 

“I’m nervous, but yes, I’m ready.” Nova had gone through a sort of orientation, meaning she already had a gun strapped to her waist, which she wasn’t comfortable with just yet. Nova didn’t like guns, but in her line of work it was hard to do anything without a gun. She took a seat at her desk, which happened to be across from Spencer’s, and attempted to get comfortable. 

“You’re not used to your gun yet,” Spencer noticed as Nova shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 

“Wow, Reid, you are some profiler. I, uh, don’t like guns. Never have.” Nova remarked back.

“You don’t like guns? How the hell did you last so long at the Pentagon?” Derek asked.

“I was a secretary. I was never required to carry one. I did have one issued to me, but it was never loaded. The ability to fire a gun wasn’t a requirement for desk jobs.” The slight hint of annoyance in Nova’s voice was only caught by Spencer, but he didn’t say anything about it. Nova rubbed her eyes and tried to stifle a yawn. 

“Long night?” Elle asked.

“I couldn’t sleep because I was so excited. Ugh I sound like I’m 12 years old and waiting to go on my first field trip.” Everyone around her chuckled, but Nova didn’t notice that Spencer was no longer sitting across from her. A cup of coffee appeared on her desk along with a bottle of sugar and some creamer cups. 

“I didn’t know how you take it.” Spencer muttered as he sipped his own coffee and sat on his desk, rather than in his chair. 

“Wow. Um, thanks, Dr. Reid.” Nova whispered as she reached for the coffee and the supplies Spencer had gotten for her. 

“You can call me Spencer.”

“How come she and JJ get to call you by your first name, but we have to call you Reid?” Derek muttered, crossing his arms, almost like he was pouting. 

“Let me ask you something, Morgan: Are you a pretty girl?” Spencer asked, a serious look covering his face. Nova blushed and tried to discreetly cover her face. 

“No, Reid, I’m not. But are you saying that Elle isn’t pretty? Or Garcia?”

“No. They’re pretty. But they prefer to call me ‘Reid’. Right, Elle?” Elle nodded. 

“Thanks for calling me pretty, Reid.” Spencer shot Elle a small smile and nodded, further proving his point to Derek. 

“Yeah, I think Nova enjoyed it too. She’s as red as a stop sign.” Derek laughed as he teased the newest member of the BAU team. Nova covered her face even more by slamming her face down on her desk and wrapping her arms around her head. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the light teasing, but she knew she could never look at Spencer with a straight face again. Nova felt someone rub her back in comfort, but she didn’t care to find out who it was. Then to everyone’s rescue, JJ walks in with a case. 

~~~~~

The case went smoothly, and Nova couldn’t have been more exhilarated. She had rescued three children from a serial sex offender who got off by murdering the people he raped. The gruesome pictures and the events leading to find the missing children exhausted Nova, yet she couldn’t fall asleep on the jet flying from Colorado to D.C. 

“Great work, Nova. I honestly didn’t think you’d be able to keep up with us.” Hotch commented, a slight smile gracing his lips. The older man adjusted himself in his seat as he quickly prepared to catch a few winks on the flight home.  

“Yeah, Nova. You did an amazing job,” JJ gushed, making herself comfortable. She was asleep in five minutes, leaving Spencer and Nova the only two awake.  Stifling a yawn yet again, Nova tried to make herself comfortable on the stiff plane seats without drawing too much attention to herself, but evidently failed as she had caught the gaze of a certain doctor. Spencer snapped his fingers, effectively getting Nova’s attention. Quirking his fingers, he gestured for her to join him in his seat. Nova blushed, scooting across the aisle and standing awkwardly in front of Spencer. With a smirk, the doctor hooked his arms around Nova’s waist and pulled her into his lap, securing a blanket around them. 

“What are you doing, Spencer?” Nova whispered, making herself comfortable on Spencer’s lap. 

“Shh. You don’t want everyone to wake up, do you?” Spencer whispered back, a slight smirk on his face as a response to Nova’s confused look. 

“Spencer, what are you--” Nova froze in her place as she felt Spencer’s hand creep up between her legs and find it’s home just a few inches away from her core. With wide eyes, she quickly looked around the jet, silently praying that everyone truly was asleep. 

“Don’t worry. As long as you’re quiet, no one will know what’s happening. Are you gonna be quiet for me, little girl?” Nova’s breath hitched in the back of her throat, the dirty words coming from the usually shy doctor quickly dampening her panties. Not trusting her voice, Nova nodded, not confident enough to make even a little bit of eye contact with the man holding her firmly on his lap. Spencer chuckled and placed a few sparse kisses around Nova’s face, avoiding her lips entirely. She let out a small whine when Spencer avoided her mouth for the fifth time, a rumbling in the man’s chest. Finally giving in, Spencer lightly placed his mouth on Nova’s, breath’s mingling just enough to make the girl wiggle on his lap. 

“Sit still,” Spencer growled, his erection becoming more prominent every time Nova moved. 

“Then kiss me, Reid.” Without further prompting, Spencer slammed his lips to Nova’s, tongues immediately dancing together. While still fully immersed in the kiss, Spencer took the opportunity to once again slide his hand up until his long fingers met the area Nova needed them most. A gasp radiated from her mouth into Spencer’s as she silently thanked whichever deity she believed in that her pantyhose stopped just before her knees, allowing the doctor to simply push her panties to the side and run his fingers along her slit.

“You’re so wet, little girl. Is all this for me?” Spencer whispered, the teasing tone in his voice thick with desire. Once again trying to keep quiet, Nova nodded and brought her lips back to Spencer’s. He chose to roll her clit between two fingers for just a few tantalizingly long seconds, his mouth snuffing out the sounds of her soft moans. In a flash of surprise, Spencer jammed two fingers inside Nova’s wet heat, the pair groaning simultaneously into their kiss. They quickly pulled apart as Nova choked out a breath, gluing her lips shut to prevent any noises from coming out. 

“Fuck, Spence. Go faster, please.” Burying her face in Spencer’s neck, he did as she asked, quickly speeding up his fingers and marveling at the squelching sounds her pussy was making around his fingers. He curled his fingers up and Nova gasped, melting into Spencer’s grasp as his fingers brushed against the soft spot that was buried so deep inside her tight heat. Nova clamped her hand over her mouth, smothering her moans, the sounds ever increasing in volume involuntarily. The hand that wasn’t buried in her pussy came up to her her mouth and smacked on top of hers, preventing more moans from slipping between her fingers. Spencer went impossibly faster, the sounds becoming more lewd the harder he buried his fingers in Nova. Her legs started shaking and her walls were clenching around Spencer’s fingers, signaling that she was close to the edge. 

“You’re close, aren’t you baby?” Spencer whispered in her ear, slamming his fingers ever deeper in Nova’s pussy, the girl trying very hard not to scream or thrash in his grasp. “Yeah, I can feel that your close. Come on, baby. I know you can do it. Go ahead, make a mess for me, Nova.” With that, she squeezed her eyes shut, dropping her jaw in a silent scream, both her hand and Spencer’s still covering her mouth as a precaution. Her legs shook furiously as Spencer kept moving his hand, helping her through her high and removing his hand from under the blanket, putting his fingers in his mouth. Nova watched with hooded eyes as her new coworker of a week sucked her climax off his long fingers. When he was finished, he planted his lips on Nova’s again in a heated kiss. Spencer pulled away and kissed the girl’s forehead, pressing his hand to her head and leading it to his shoulder, a silent prompt to sleep. 

“Spencer?” Nova whispered, still trying not to draw too much attention to the pair. 

“Hmm?” She could feel his throat vibrate as he hummed in response.

“What was that for? What does this mean?” Spencer smirked at her questions, his mind running equally as fast.

“I’ll tell you some other time, love. Just go to sleep.” Nova nodded and closed her eyes, mind running with images of a happy future with Spencer. She was asleep in 5 minutes, similarly to JJ. 

“Hey, lover boy. I’m glad you’re making a move and all, but how about making absolutely sure everyone is asleep before you finger a girl so good she’s practically screaming, okay?”

“Shut up and go to sleep, Morgan.” Spencer muttered angrily, blushing as Morgan ruffled his hair, chuckling. 

[comic-brew]

Pieces

@whumptober2020 days n.4 Running out of time: Buried Alive and n.5 Falling (alt prompt)

Summary: The wet soil doesn’t end, it engulfs him in its cold embrace and doesn’t let him go, no matter how wildly he struggles against the earthly tendrils wrapped securely around his limbs and torso.

Notes: shitty au where basically TV Titans Jason has flashbacks of his comic-life, even though he technically haven’t lived any of them yet. How much this story progresses depends on if I’ll write a second ch. Beware of 2 different writing styles cause I started this way too long ago.

Reading time: 35 mins (4.4k)

Warnings: whump, panic attacks, being buried alive, self deprecating thoughts, angst, oxygen deprivation, PTSD (?), vertigo, falling, perhaps sth else I missed??

or read here on ao3!

ps. reblogs and feedback bring the author great joy uwu

***

“Hey, Jason” Gar greets after knocking and opening the door to Jason’s room just enough to peer his head through.

“How’re you doing?”

The boy waits but Jason doesn’t reply. He’s simply staring out his window, arms falling limply at his side, barely even registering the new presence in the room. Garfield bites his lip and invites himself inside and by Jason’s side. He glances at the boy’s rapidly moving, but hollow eyes, then at the view of the sky they’re aiming at.

“Are you still with us, buddy?” he asks.

He hesitantly runs a hand up and down in front of Jason’s distant gaze and that seems to do the trick.

Jason blinks, then shakes his head to rid himself of whatever thought he was so unnervingly engrosed into. Turning to face the green haired boy, he assumes the most carefree expression he can muster, forcing a halflit smile in a futile attempt to compose himself.

“Yeah, was just.. thinking” he assures, his eyes holding no emotion.

“ ‘Course… You sure you’re okay?” Gar presses, making little effort to conceal the incredulous frown his eyebrows are drawn into.

Jason shifts in his place while his hands clench and unclench, in an attempt to calm his discomfort and aggravation at Gar’s question, because he knows his teammate’s just asking out of honest concern. It’s not his fault Jason hasn’t slept in days and isn’t used to people checking up on him.

“I’m fine, dude, seriously.” Jason insists and Garfield knows better than to further inquire him “Now, did you want something?”

Fuck. Jason almost winces at how aggressive his words have come out. Gar blinks, opening his mouth to say something. Before his thoughts can materialize on the tip on his tongue, he seems to rethink what he wanted to say. That delay of course doesn’t go unnoticed by Jason.

God..Why does he always mess everything up?

As Gar’s about to speak again, the new Robin raises a hand to the green haired boy’s chest, stopping any word before it can reach his ears. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just tired and I’m taking it out on you.” he huffs a bitter laugh “You don’t deserve me being an ass to you too.”

The boy’s brown eyes light up with understanding and relief and his tense shoulders physically relax at the confession. “Hey, it’s cool man. I get it.” he acknowledges, smiling politely and squeezing Jason’s shoulder.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t recoil from the touch, instead reciprocating Gar’s reassuring smile with an exhausted, but genuine and lighthearted smirk.

They both remain in that position for several split seconds, until Garfield finally retracts his hand to clasp his palms together as it dawns on him that he still hasn’t told his teammate the news he came to deliver.

“Actually I did come to tell you something” he announces, grinning widely and slightly fidgeting with his fingers “Rachel and I were thinking of watching a movie, you’re welcome to join us. You know, if you feel up to it.”

Jason takes a spare second to ponder and process Gar’s proposition. He steals a glance at the translucent glass of the window, separating his world from the towering skyscrapers and showering his neatly made bed in the soft gleam of the afternoon.

It would surely be better than staying there alone, falling into the inky depths of his eternal abyss.

Turning to face the boy whose eyes scour him expectantly for any indication of his intentions, he relents with a rather forced shrug.

“Uh, sure, I guess.” Jason says.

Gar’s face lights up and pulls into a joyous grin. “Cool… cool.”

He awkwardly shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants and starts heading towards the door, stopping midway to listen to Jason calling out after him.

“I’ll be there in a sec.”

The green haired boy simply nods and subtly waves his hand goodbye, before he disappears into the hallway.

***

When Jason steps foot into one of the spacious living areas Titans Tower houses, there are three heads turning at the soft sound of his approaching footsteps where he expected to be greeted by two. The platinum curls flowing gracefully with the motion can only belong to one person. Well, at least one person they know.

“Rose” he sighs. “Didn’t expect you to come”

“Didn’t expect to come either” she counters, the corners of her lips twitching upwards in amusement, “But I guess this could be fun after all”

She is comfortably perched on a lovely armchair covered by smooth, pearl fabric, facing the flank of a matching couch. One knee bent and placed securely under her body, the side of her head is doused in the last dull afternoon light seeping into the room through the daffodil curtains keeping the golden sunset rays at bay. Rachel is regarding Jason with a mellow smile, sitting cross legged on the far end of the couch neighbouring Rose’s armchair and Garfield has already started fumbling with a rather ancient DVD player.

It’s a wonder how this thing still exists in a building where interactive holograms are a norm. But then again it wouldn’t be the oddest thing about this place.

“Well,” Gar begins, slightly groaning when the DVD port spitefully refuses to close, “We’re both glad you did join us. Now, take a seat ladies and gentlemen!” he announces with fervor when he finally manages to slam the port close, and gestures towards the unoccupied cushions next to the purple haired girl.

Jason takes the invitation gladly and flops down on the other end of the couch, closer to the hall he was in just a few seconds ago.

“What are we watching?” Jason asks.

Rachel turns her focus to him then, leaning her back on the couch and clutching a decorative pillow to her abdomen. “Gar found this, and I quote, 'apocalyptic masterpiece of censorship’ and insisted we had to watch it.” she grins, rolling her eyes at reciting her friend’s words.

Jason and Rose both snort at that as Garfield reaches the couch in a few quick strides. “Seriously guys, I have only ever heard about this movie from some pretty questionable sources.” he says giddily before sobering up again, clearly fussing over his discovery.

“We’re literally staring an urban legend in the face, guys!”

“Yeah, not like you hang out with the Titans or whatever” Jason quips. Seriously, how can a movie be more exciting than fighting crime alongside heroes? Than being a hero?

“Good point, bro. Good point”

Jason shoulders stiffen at the nickname, but only for a briefly awkward moment which Gar is more than eager to fill with more (unnecessary) information.

“Well, according to those guys the movie was banned shortly after its release and all copies were revoked and ultimately destroyed.”

“Clearly not all copies” Rachel muses before asking why the movie was banned in the first place. Gar mumbles something about it addressing some extremely controversial topics and offending some powerful douchbag before making his way to the middle cushion.

Rachel scoots over without even untangling her legs to make more room for him to sit.

Rose simply raises an eyebrow.

“Where the hell did you even hear about this stuff in the first place?”

Gar suddenly goes stills in his place on the couch. He runs a hand through his messy strands of hair before reluctantly providing an answer. “Uh… Tumblr?” he says while grinning awkwardly.

Rachel nods her head back slack-jawed, brows shooting up in a terrible attempt at showing understanding. Gar frowns as he then glances at Jason who’s staring at him with wide disbelieving eyes, the sound of Rose dramatically smacking her own face enhancing the atmosphere.

“It’s not that surprising guys, come on!” Gar protests, an exasperated sigh emanating from his lips.

At that, the three of them exchange deadpan looks before bursting out laughing. The laughter soon subsides into small giggles and high pitched breaths as the green haired boy smiles with content and leans above the mahogany coffee table to grab the tv remote.

“Well, friends, brace yourselves, for the most epic zombie movie to barely exist” he says, smirking as he plops back down on the leathern cushions.

On the screen, their reflections have given their place to the lean figure of a boy of asian descent in his 16s walking alongside a girl with dark complexion and luscious, auburn hair. A gentle, velvety voice surrounds them from the speakers and integrates them in the world the film is set in.

Time flows pleasantly as the story progresses with no interruption aside from a few enthusiastic inputs from a beaming Garfield.

The rest of the Titans are all gathered together in some other part of the Tower, once again excluding them from whatever plans they might be conjuring.

Because that went so well last time, Jason unwittingly ponders, quick to dismiss the thoughts lest those dreadfully fresh memories resurface.

But perhaps it’s already too late to whisk them away.

Jason gets up out of the blue, eliciting an inquisitive glare from the rest of the kids.

“I’ll just.. go grab some popcorn” he states vacantly, pointing at the hallway with his thumb without breaking eye contact. Truth is he needs a minute to recover from the intrusion of sensations he’d rather forget.

Plus, popcorn sounds nice.

“We can pause the film if you want” Rachel’s soft voice prompts, wording what has likely been dancing around the others’ minds as well.

“Nah, it’s cool. It won’t take long. I’m not going all the way to the Antarctica and back or whatever” he replies, fighting the nagging urge to roll his eyes and let the poison drip onto his voice. The kids nod and in a moment’s notice he’s gone.

Right foot.

Left foot.

Right foot.

Keeping up his pace feels abysmally hard. His head is reeling and his senses are swimming all around the place, reality feels like a fuzzy blanket draped over a newborn’s skin. Jason takes a few more carefully calculated steps before he stumbles on thin air. Careening into the wall he leans against the slick concrete on his flank until the world stops shifting enough for him to continue.

Somehow Jason makes it to the kitchen. He fumbles with the drawers, opening and closing them jerkily.

In just a few seconds the falling has progressed to the point where he can barely stand. He doesn’t think it’s ever been this bad the previous times.

Everything is spinning around. And when it all shifts upside down he’s falling from the marble to the ceiling, and when his skin and the asbestos are inches from colliding, the world tilts again like an hourglass that’s ran out of sand.

Just like that his descend is reset. Over and over.

He finds the popcorn bag in the last one and grabs it hastily. Only after the third attempt, the previous two ending shamefully with his clasp clutching piteously at empty air.

Dropping it of on the countertop it’s more muscle memory than will that redirects him to the sink. His fingers grip the knob, turning the water lukewarm, but as he lets it puddle on his palms he can’t feel it any clearer than a breath of a ghost on the back of his neck.

Jason splashes the water on his face but it ends up mostly on his clothes and on the ground. Gravity works funny when you have no sense of it.

His hands latch onto the edge of the sink and cling for dear life. The ledge, hold on to the ledge. His eyes open wide, they soak up the terror of the height. The terror of death.

The eerie reassurance of death.

The smog dissipates faster this time. But with it the distressing thought that it’s getting worse, that he’s getting worse, finds the chance settle in his gut.

Jason can’t do this anymore.

But he’s already been gone for a conspicuously large amount of time, and the thought of having to explain his reoccurring day-mares can’t even be entertained by his mind. So that makes a problem for another day.

The popcorn is ready in only a few minutes. Jason holds on to the sink for a couple more moments, taking deep breaths in and out, until his heart has stopped beating frenzied.

If they ask, he can always say he had trouble with the 'corn.

He can always say.

“Okay” he breathes out, closing his eyes as he informs nobody in particular.

“Okay I’m ready”

With that Jason grabs the bowl filled to the brim with the snack and disappears out the door. The journey from the kitchen to the smaller living area is nothing compared to the odyssey he went through following his departure from the lounge.

Once he sets foot back inside all heads turn towards him.

“What did I miss?” he asks, ever so cheerfully as he strides closer to the small den of couches.

One of them starts speaking, no doubt filling him in on the events that happened while he wasn’t watching. Whoever it is, Jason can’t concentrate on their voice enough to tell it apart.

On the screen, the boy is desperately gasping for air as he’s emerging from a moonlit grave.

The world spins out of focus, and before any of them know it the bowl has slipped through Jason’s limb fingers.

It has slipped, and it is falling.

***

The splintered wood pricks and stabs the sensitive skin beneath his shattered fingernails and the blood is threatening to leave his hands and drip onto his glacial cold face. His fingers hurt, they weren’t made as a shovel, they weren’t made to be penetrating wood, but they are doing exactly that, and he can’t acknowledge the piercing, burning throbs that travel through his veins to set the rest of his body aflame, because his lungs are burning, they’re flaring up more and more with every broken attempt at filling them up with air-

He has to dig, he has to keep going-

The last layer of polished wood finally relents, small pieces of it falling onto his raggedly, but once expensive, dandy suit. Blood is mixed with sweat on his palms, accelerating the speed with which it runs along his hands, tickling him while he scrambles for a breath of fresh air that never comes.

“N..o…” he croaks out and speaking is hard, his throat feels as the ash coated land left behind the passage of lava, and now he needs to cough, and he needs to breathe but there’s no air coming in, and frankly, he can’t decide whether it’s from the panic that has overcome him or because there simply isn’t enough oxygen in the cramped space he’s trapped in.

It’s not some prank

As if on cue the ground above him slightly shakes as the mud repositions and soil seeps through the open slit of the-

Of the coffin.

I’m buried alive…. I… I…, he realizes, ever so frantically.

And so his thoughts begin to plague him, the next one banging and clawing at the door of his mind before the previous has had the time to be stated, he’s hyperventilating and fairly so, he’s buried underneath 6 feet of soil-

Stop it Jason, get ahold of yourself. You made it this far because you never gave up, you won’t give up now either, a part of himself with a semblance of sanity left scolds him and orders his bloody hands to move, they grip the edge of the broken pine casket and pull with all their might.

The wooden seal cracks and Jason makes a supernatural effort to set it aside as it holds the weight of 6 feet of soil, his atrophied muscles protest by threatening to give out but it’s sheer determination that gets him to move on, he has to make it, he can’t die in there, he can’t leave, can’t leave his family.

Mud now openly drowns him from the huge whole in the lid of the casket, devouring every corner, sticking to every inch of skin and fabric.

He’s still gasping for air, his lungs and throat feel ready to burst and he’s dizzy, everything is spinning, but on the other hand 'everything’ is nothing more but a muddy grave and he’s still inside.

Almost frantically his injured fingers reach for the source of the soil. With jerky movements and all the strength he can muster he forces his hands through the earth. The stiff mud swallows him whole, lets the worms and maggots get tangled in his long strands of hair. Jason keeps his eyes and mouth stubbornly shut as he desperately struggles to propel his flimsy frame through the endless layers of ground.

He can faintly feel the darkness creeping in the corner of his mind, promising relief, promising safety. Those whispers sound tempting to his weak, grazed arms, to his blazing lungs-

The whispers don’t know that it’s not written in his DNA to yield.

His arms hastily swim through the wet mass that’s holding him beneath the surface, he can feel the dirt in his hair, in his ears, in his shirt, his pants, his everything. Maggots and caterpillars are crawling on his convulsed features. His heart is throbbing unnaturally loud, he can hear the thumping in his ears as his marred hands push and dig with painstaking effort.

Better hurry little robin! It ain’t fun if you die now, amiright boy blunder? HahaHA!

He’s digging, he’s trying, dyeing the earth crimson with his blood, please-

The wet soil doesn’t end, it engulfs him in its cold embrace and doesn’t let him go, no matter how wildly he struggles against the earthly tendrils wrapped securely around his limbs and torso.

He’s desperately gasping for a breath, just one breath to keep going, he’s coughing up phlegm and bile while his chest writhes and burns. He can’t help his mouth gaping in a last-gasp search for oxygen but the only thing entering his mouth and traveling towards his pricking trachea is dirt and rocks and… and…

…a feather?

A feather. He can feel it with his tongue, he can taste its sourness and almost hear a soft crunch under his teeth.

A feather. Robin.

He’s Robin, and Robin doesn’t die alone in an empty grave.

Robin fights. Robin protects. Robin wins.

With renewed resoluteness he forges ahead, his hand reaches where he supposes skyward is one more time.

This time, it’s met with the comfort of soft raindrops and the gentle wind blowing against his numb fingertips.

***

“-on? Jason!” Rachel calls at the sound of the metal bowl clattering to the ground, slipping right through the boy’s fingers and letting the freshly baked popcorn scatter all over the marble floor.

The girl exchanges a worried glance with Gar, before Rose gets up and marches furiously towards an exasperatingly unresponsive Robin, the popcorn crunching beneath her feet. She comes to a halt a few inches away from Jason’s hollow eyes and slaps him hard across the cheek.

The other two begin to protest loudly but Rose barely pays them any mind. She watches with pursed lips as Jason’s cloudy eyes regain focus and his hand shoots up to the skin gradually assuming the oh-so-wonderful shade of radish.

“Ow.. what the fuck?” Jason frowns at her while cautiously rubbing his cheek with his right hand. There’s no blood on his fingers, no mud on his skin. He can breathe.

Rose ignores his baffled query and simply turns to the two teens watching the whole scene play out from the safety of the cushions. She beams triumphantly as she announces smugly, “See? It worked.”

Jason, visibly annoyed by his incompetence to understand what the hell is happening traps her wrist in a vice like grip and tugs, forcing her to face him. She squints viciously at the gesture although she effortlessly pulls her hand free.

“Why the fuck did you slap me?”

The girl opens her mouth to respond, putting together a not so composed reply in her head -to put it mildly-, so it’s probably for the best when Rachel interrupts her train of thought.

“What happened, Jason? You completely zoned out”.

“Yeah, dude. What the hell was that all about?” Gar chimes in, nodding at the pile of popcorn by Robin’s feet and at the discarded bowl that has slid all the way to the edge of the couch he and Rachel are perched on.

“Wha..” Jason regards the strewn snacks with a quizzical look, as if he’s waiting for them to answer why they’re spread out all over the floor. Oddly enough, they don’t.

He fixes his still hazy gaze on his calloused hands next, his confusion manifesting in the form of furrowed brow.

He- he was-

no. He was never there. Always here.

His inviolate fingers are proof enough of that. But then.. is he losing his mind? Just like old Bertha, the old lady running around the theater, screaming that she had been kidnapped and experimented on by flying giraffes…. Not that it’s impossible with everything he’s witnessed the past year.

No, that can’t be it. He’s still shaken up from the fall right? It’s logical that he’s hallucinating about graves, he was seconds from ending up in one just a few days ago. It will go away right?

It will, it has to.

They can’t know, the street kid inside of him insists, they’ll throw you away like a broken toy. Broken..

“Jason, talk to us. What’s wrong?” Rachel is still staring at him, they all are. Her voice is laced with pity, they’re sorry for him. They’re pitying him, the bird that broke its wing and they know that now can’t survive on its own.

“What’s wrong with me?!” His head snaps to where her voice is coming from and the girl flinches at the bite behind his words.

“I didn’t mean- I meant you should perhaps tell Dick about it, he might be able to help” she stutters, her face bearing a deer in the headlights expression. Her gaze briefly meets with Garfield’s, perhaps to seek some backup. Somehow that angers Jason even more.

“Tell Dick? Really?” he snorts, “How about we tell Dick about that time you almost fucking choked me, maybe he could help!” he gasps mockingly. He is shouting now and the girl seems taken aback by the progression of his anger, gawking at him with a hint of sorrow tainting the indigo of her irises.

Gar stands up from his seat and approaches him, getting in the way of him and a Rachel fumbling for the right response to Jason’s accusation. The green haired boy extends his hand almost cautiously, it’s a simple gesture meaning nothing else than stop. It’s common sense, he knows he is going too far again but Jason’s common sense has jumped out the window. To him, they’re treating him like a wounded animal.

Perhaps he’s just projecting how cornered he feels.

“Dude, that’s enough”

“I’m sorry to break this to you, ” he points a finger accusingly at Rachel, “but Dick can’t fix everything like some kind of god you’ve made him out to be”

“Buddy-”

“He can’t fix you and your fucking razor blade tornado or whatever…” he keeps holding Rachel’s bleak glare gesturing wildly with his fingers and ignoring Garfield’s feeble attempts at making him stop.

“…and he can’t fix this” Jason concludes by pointing miserably at his head, then the rest of his body, until his hand drops limp at his side in resignation. His newfound rage has dissipated into downright bitterness.

At the far back the movie is still playing, forgotten. In the faint comforting light of the screen the girl with the auburn hair is kneeling in front of a stone cold body, burrowing her face in chestnut locks that would never grow any longer, as her shoulders heave sharply with every wreaked sob.

Grieving. Jason can still feel the three pairs of eyes -one consisting of one blue and an eyepatch- burning holes into the glimmers of tears stubbornly refusing to be spilt from his, even as he averts his stare.

There’s a deep pause after the abrupt revelation and the four kids are encompassed in a veil of tense silence no one seems willing to break.

Rose -who seemed rather amused when the yelling had started- is now solemnly inspecting the intricate patterns on the sheer curtains tucked to the side of the plate-glass window. Garfield is standing with his arms crossed protectively around his torso. Rachel has ceased to stare wide eyed like a freshly caught fish, however she’s keeping her arms close to her body and shifting awkwardly in her place. Her expression remains grim and her eyes dim, bearing an eerily sorrowful glint.

She puts her head down and eventually flies out of the room without another word. Consumed either by irritation or even guilt, if Jason has to guess. Gar spares no more than a defeated glance at her departure, otherwise maintaining his position by the abruptly deserted couch. He simply reaches for the tv remote, cutting off image and sound amidst a heated argument between the two leads. Damn this movie.

Deathstroke’s daughter looks between the two boys expectantly for half a second. None of them pays her any mind, too busy staring at the suddenly immensely intriguing floor.

“Nevermind, I’m out of here” she mutters through gritted teeth before getting down from atop the loveseat she had claimed and heading towards her own room.

Jason stares blankly at the scattered popcorn, but it provides no answer to the million questions dancing around in his mind.

Frankly, he didn’t expect it to.

Gosh. He’s so messed up.

Gar offers to help him clean up. He refuses. Perhaps Jason pushes him away just like everyone else. He’s got his own mess to clean up, first literally.

The metaphorical one might have just stained too deeply to remedy.

The night finds him placing the broom back in it’s place in the supply closet and sitting alone in pitch darkness.

Thinking of a grave that doesn’t belong to him, it never did, but it has his name on it. Thinking of the memories he shouldn’t have, piecing together how his heart only knows more fragments have been prodding at him, more broken pieces he doesn’t know where they fit.

The night finds him sitting alone in pitch darkness. Shivering, shaking with quiet tears.

Knowing he’d be undisturbed, alone, in the grave he’s built for himself.

[jasiper]

adore you

fine line series 3/12

you don’t have to say you love me

you don’t have to say nothing

you don’t have to say you’re mine

If Piper could go back in time, crash the wedding reception, grab her past self by the nape of her neck and drag herself out of the venue to give herself a good kick in the ass, she would.

Okay, maybe she wouldn’t crash her best friend’s wedding purely for the sake of not having sex, but in retrospect, she was being dumb. Completely and utterly idiotic. When it came to Jason, she seemed to lack the proper amount of brain cells to think Piper, maybe it’s a good idea not to sleep with your best friend again!

But it happened, time travel didn’t exist, so while she’s spending more time with Jason than ever, she’s also unable to fight the inkling that maybe after all this time, she is still in love with him, even after years of being apart.

How can she do this to herself? She spent years alone, maintaining a comfortable (yes, comfortable even though sometimes it was hard) distance between her and Jason. Sometimes there was a lapse of judgment, a night where the tensions got too high and they found themselves beneath the sheets, limbs intertwined and lips pressed to each other’s skin. They always manage to brush it off—an awkward laugh, averted eye contact, the walk of shame. It doesn’t stay awkward for long because by the next day, they’re texting and chatting like usual. It’s fine. It always ends up fine. Piper can still mash down her feelings and pretend it’s all okay.

Ever since Annabeth and Percy’s wedding, it isn’t just a one-time thing. It’s part of her daily routine. Wake up, coffee, work, dinner, she sees Jason, repeat. Maybe deciding on doing her last year of med school in San Francisco wasn’t her brightest idea, given that now she’s less than thirty minutes away from Jason at all times, but it’s too late to backtrack. She’s here now and he’s very obviously apart of her daily life, just as she’s apart of his.

It’s like their souls are intertwined. The Fates were probably having a field day with this. They tangled their strings of yarn together, tied several knots into them just for fun before seeing how well they can thrive. Even with the breakup, the several near-death experiences, Piper is sure their lives are even more connected. If she wanted to leave—which of course she doesn’t—she doesn’t think she’d have the ability to. It’s like there’s a bungee cord attached to them; if one ventures too far, the cord will restrict and pull them back together.

The wedding slip-up is a result of the cord being pulled too far. They spent too much time apart and when they were pulled back together, it lasted longer than it should have.

So now Piper is completely and utterly wrapped around Jason’s finger. She can’t even deny it at this point. So much for being just friends. The years of running away from her feelings finally caught up to her.

How can she not still have feelings for him? He’s her best friend, her shoulder to cry on, the person she trusts the most in the world.

Plus, he’s stupid pretty. Stupid pretty.

She’s never been fooled—it’s not like he was ever unattractive. He’s always been unfairly attractive. He’s just grown into himself now. His hair, which used to be cut short (Roman military style), has grown out, infuriatingly perfect. It’s hard to not run her fingers through it and pull him close and kiss him.

After sneaking away from the wedding reception a few months back, she finds herself doing that often. When they’re alone and they’ve run out of things to talk about, she tangles her fingers in his hair as she puts her lips to his, losing herself in the taste of his mouth.

It’s almost too easy to pretend that he’s hers when her tongue is in his mouth. She can delude herself for the time being—no one else is making him moan and flush and cause his eyelids to flutter. As much as she’s wrapped around his finger, she’s got him wrapped around hers, too. It’s the endless cycle of their relationship. Maybe if they weren’t so broken, they can take the final jump and say fuck it, let’s just try to date again.

But they’ve stared death in the eyes and they’ve figured out years ago that just because they’re broken, their pieces don’t necessarily fit into each other. They’re not a puzzle waiting to be finished. They’re broken glass, just random unfixable shards that have spent years trying to be reassembled.

That doesn’t stop Piper from hoping and praying to any god that is willing to listen to somehow bring them back together.

She’s selfish. She just wants him for herself.

But Jason Grace isn’t one to be owned. He’s the son of the king of the gods, pontifex, warrior through and through. He’s caused armies to fall, kingdoms to crumble. He wants domestic life—marriage, kids, a house with a big backyard. Even then, she can’t imagine her to be the one to be his wife in a suburban area. Their time has passed.

It still doesn’t stop her from wanting him to be hers. She doesn’t like sharing.

Right now, staring at his freckled back as he sleeps, playing connect the dots with the sunspots, she wants to be the only one to ever see him like this. Messy hair, skin pink against the white sheets, his back rising and falling with each breath. Who wouldn’t want this angel of a man to be theirs and only theirs?

For now, she’s the only one to be lucky to be in such a vulnerable position like this with him. That causes an almost painful, empty hollow feeling in her chest. This won’t be forever. This is just a temporary fix, a little fun before he goes off and settles down with a less broken person, someone who hasn’t flirted with death and almost paid the price for it. He’s worthy of someone who won’t scream in her sleep and push him away when things get hard.

Still. She doesn’t need him to love her. She just really wants him to.

The early morning sunlight is creeping through his blinds, turning his hair gold. Usually, he’s the one who wakes up around this time while she sleeps, but he’s had a long week. His breathing is slow, steady, clearly still asleep. She closes her eyes, listening to the sound of his heart against her cheek as she presses herself closer to his back, her arm hanging loosely off his torso. Maybe their broken pieces don’t fit perfectly, but for just a moment, she can pretend.

Several minutes pass and Jason’s breathing picks up, a clear indication that he’s waking up. Piper keeps her eyes closed, not daring to move, feigning sleep. She doesn’t want him to know she’s been awake this entire time.

With a low groan, Jason shifts in her arms, the sheets bunched up around them as he turns over. Her eyes remain shut as she feels his chest where his back once was, almost dropping the façade when she feels his hand cup her cheek. It isn’t until he presses his lips to her forehead is when she decides to ‘wake up’—her eyelids flutter and she forces a yawn as she gives an appropriate stretch.

Pretending to be asleep, she decides, is totally worth it. His cheeks are flushed a delicious shade of pink, a stark contrast to his sky blue eyes. She wants to lean forward and kiss every freckle on his cheekbone, but that feels a little less platonic than she feels comfortable with despite the fact he just kissed her forehead.

“Did I wake you?” Jason asks, voice wonderfully husky and heavy with sleepiness.

“Mhm, it’s okay.” Piper settles her hand on a shoulder, a place she deems as safe. “How’d you sleep?”

“Well,” he admits. “I needed that. Work this week was so tiring.”

There are still dark circles under his eyes. Piper runs her thumb just below his left eye and she says, “You seemed tired. We can go back to sleep if you want.”

Jason shakes his head and leans into her touch. She tries to ignore how her heart is beating in her throat when he murmurs, “No, you’re probably hungry. What host am I if I don’t make you breakfast?”

Piper almost wants to point out they’re hardly ever considered guests in each other’s apartments anymore—this is a routine event that occurs multiple times a week, but the thought of Jason cooking her breakfast makes her cheeks go warm. “Breakfast sounds nice.”

“Mhm.” Jason nods and sits up. Piper has to force herself to look away as the sheets fall and hang loosely around his hips. “Breakfast and maybe a shower after that?”

A shower sounds nicer than she wants to admit. She nods and slowly sits up, holding the sheets to her chest. “Can you make pancakes?” she asks hopefully.

He smiles and nods. “Of course,” he answers. He pushes away the sheets and Piper averts her eyes. She’s acting like she hasn’t seen him naked before because she knows if she looks, she’ll do something stupid, like blurt out her feelings for him, which is the last thing they need on such an uneventful morning. “Okay, I’ll start breakfast after I brush my teeth.” As if it’s the most casual thing in the world, he ruffles her hair before shuffling out of the bedroom in just his boxers.

Maybe there’s a part of her that does need his love, as pathetic as that sounds. A daughter of love who can’t even find the love for herself, someone who needs to love of another. It sounds so selfish; she’s already broken his heart once, he doesn’t need her to do it again.

Although now, she’s sure she wouldn’t break his heart again. She isn’t as hurt as she was when she was sixteen. She’s long accepted the demigod life and she wants to do it with him. 

Not that she’d ever say it. She bites back her feelings, again, settling for being the best friend who occasionally gets sex. It’s more than she deserves out of him, anyway.

It takes another few minutes of self-deprecating for Piper to haul herself out of bed. It’s hard to leave because Jason’s sheets are so soft, but she makes her way to the bathroom, grabs the toothbrush he keeps for her, and brushes her teeth. She tries to forget about the way Jason kissed her last night, how he kissed her forehead just this morning.

Is it so bad to want to be loved? Is it so awful to crave that? Maybe not, but this is her best friend, her first love. She wants to be adored but right now… Piper has to settle for this—the sex and nothing else. She can survive without the I love you and claiming each other as their own.

With a dramatic sigh, Piper forces Jason’s discarded shirt from the previous night on her body, choosing to put on panties and not her leggings as she makes her way to the kitchen, which smells heavenly of pancakes. By the time she slides into the stool at the counter, Jason’s sliding over a plate of pancakes, complimented with the perfect amount of syrup (he knows how much she likes) and strawberries and scrambled eggs. Her mouth waters and she digs right in.

“Hungry?” Jason teases, looking infuriatingly like a domestic husband cooking his wife breakfast after a long week of work.

What I would give to be the wife he’s cooking breakfast for.

Piper almost chokes on her pancakes at the thought. “Um, yeah. You wore me out,” she reminds him, having to force back a smile as his face turns a wonderful shade of red. “Are you telling me you’re not hungry from last night?”

Jason leaves over the other side of the counter, biting into his own stack of pancakes. “Starving,” he corrects as he chews. “Pancakes were a good idea, Pipes.”

She has to bite back her snarky remark, instead shoving her face full of strawberries. Making fun of him this morning isn’t on her agenda. At least not yet.

Staring is also not on her agenda, but it’s hard to do so when Jason’s hair is golden in the midmorning sun, freckles like constellations on his pale skin, lips so pink she wonders if they taste like bubblegum. (She’s kissed him enough to confirm his lips somehow taste better than bubblegum.) She wonders how sweet the kiss will taste as he eats his own breakfast. Will they taste like the coffee he drinks, or syrup, or the strawberries?

Maybe looking at him and focusing on his physical features will help her get her mind off the fact that her feelings are eating her insides away. So she continues to stare.

It isn’t until after Jason finishes his breakfast that he realizes she’s staring. “What? Is there something on my face?” he asks, instinctively reaching up to touch his cheek.

Piper shakes her head, pushing aside her empty plate as she props her elbows up on the counter. “Nope. I’m just…” She struggles for the right innuendo, hoping he’ll catch on, but knowing he’s too dense to do so. “I’m still hungry.”

“Oh.” Jason blinks. “I could make you more pancakes if you want. Don’t even worry about it.”

“No, Jason.” Piper leans even further over the counter. “I’m not hungry for food.”

It takes Jason a few moments to realize what she’s getting at. He flushes crimson, the color reaching to the tips of his ears. “Oh. Oh.” He laughs breathily and he reaches across the counter to twine his fingers in her hair. “Really? After last night?”

“Especially after last night.” Piper bites down on her bottom lip. She was right—being horny is easier than grappling the feelings that threaten to bubble over the surface. She can’t ruin the friendship purely because she’s still hopelessly head over heels for him years after their breakup. “Are you…”

Jason doesn’t answer. His lips do the talking instead as he closes the distance between them to give her an eager kiss. She’s right, his lips do taste like a sweet mixture of maple syrup and fresh strawberries.

“I said I was starving earlier, didn’t I?” Jason murmurs as he pulls away. He pushes himself away from the counter, holding out a hand to her. “Come on. We can shower after this.”

His hand is extended towards her and she wishes this was a different situation. She wishes he was asking for her love instead, asking her to be his. Asking her to adore him.

But he’s not. He doesn’t have those feelings anymore. All she’s capable of doing is pining and cursing her past mistakes because now she’s stuck in this zone, only able to kiss him but unable to love him the way she wants to.

This is all she can get, so she grabs his hand to at least feel like she’s adored. Even if it’s only for a little bit. Even if it’s only for a moment.

[crowdedimagines]

The Perfect Exchange - David Dobrik (1)

an// this is going to be the start to a series! i’m not sure how long it’s going to be, that depends on the feedback!!! short little intro here:) 

summary//david needs a green card and the reader needs health insurance!

~

“Natalie, what exactly are you talking about?” I ask, setting down my fork to give her my full attention.

“I know it’s crazy, but it really could work.” She smiles at me as if she hasn’t just brought up one of the wildest things I’ve ever heard. 

“So you’re saying that you want me to marry your boss, so I can get health insurance?” I restate, trying to compose all of what Natalie had suggested.

“And then David can get a green card.”

When I told Natalie that my parents took me off of their insurance plan, I have already practically drained them over medical bills over the years. Moving out to Los Angeles was the last straw, my last hope to at least be happy and live my dream. Natalie knew that the few months I have been here I have been struggling to get work and still pay for medication.

“I’ve talked about David before, you know that he’s a good guy. I wouldn’t bring this up if I thought it was a bad idea for either of you.”

I nod to show that I’m listening while still thinking. 

“Have you talked to him about it at all?” I question.

“I have, he’s not completely on board, but he’s desperate.”

“Thanks.” I roll my eyes with a laugh. I think it’s better this way anyway. I would be way more hesitant if he was already on board without even having met me.

“Well, so are you.” Natalie teases. “It’s a win-win. You’ll be on his health plan after that, he can help take care of expenses.”

I take a deep breath and look over to meet her eyes. She’s smirking, already liking having a plan.

“Let me think on it.”

“Okay!” She grins, “Take all the time you need. Well, not all the time, David needs to have a green card by like last week, but take your time.”

Natalie and I finish up the rest of our meal before going our separate ways. The drive back to my apartment I can’t stop thinking it over and over again in my head. When Natalie asked to meet for supper, I had no idea halfway through the meal she would propose a crazy plan like this. Marrying a man I have never met for health insurance.

I was born with a heart disease, which sucks, obviously, but it was never actually that bad. That is until I told my parents I wanted to move out to L.A. That’s when they decided to cut me off financially, in hopes of getting me to stay. They were struggling enough as it is, I needed to get out of there and stop feeling like a burden.

I can afford my rent, my car, and my student loans but adding on all of my medical bills on top of that is impossible. Not with the money I’m making right now at least.

“This is crazy.” I mutter to myself as I lean against my apartment door. It’s been a long day, working a shift this morning and then going out.

I was born with a heart disease, my valves and arteries are too small. Which leads to fatigue, shortness of breath, sleep problems, chest pain, and so many different doctors. My younger years I spent more time in a hospital than out on a playground.

The past three months I’ve been able to pay for about half of my usual medications. Having health insurance would change all of that. I would be able to have a life outside of work again. I could have full energy and get treatments when I need them without hesitation.

I throw myself on my bed and grab my phone out of my bag. I find Natalie’s contact and she picks it up almost instantly.

“When can I meet him?”

-

The next day I didn’t have a shift at the cafe, Natalie told me I could stop by to meet everyone. She said that it would be likely that there’s a group a people hanging out there.

I debate for way too long in my closet of what to wear, but I know that I need to make a good impression on these new people! I settle on natural makeup and one of my favorite outfits that is simultaneously cute and comfortable. 

I take an uber to the address that Nat gave me. When Natalie said he had money, she wasn’t joking. The house in the hills, the cars, it seems like he’s got it all up here. I tuck my hair behind my ear and lightly knock at the front door.

Natalie runs over to the door, smiling as it swings open.

“Y/n!” She pulls me in for a hug.

“Hi.” I grin.

She opens the door wider to let me in, I follow her further into the house where I notice there’s lots of people here.

“Hey everybody, this is Y/n!” She nods towards me.

“Hey, you guys.” I wave around to the crowd of people.

“Okay so this is Carly, Erin, Matt, Jeff, Corinna, Zane, Jason, Joe, and finally David.” Natalie goes around introducing me to everyone.

“Nice to meet you all, especially the future husband.” I tease.

“Yeah, you too.” David grins.

I can already tell he’s a good guy, not that I didn’t trust Natalie’s opinion of him, but it’s different getting a vibe from him myself. When Natalie and I were in college together she talked about David all of the time, telling me stories. I knew he must be worth something when she dropped out and moved to California.

“So, you’re going to marry our boy David?” Zane asks, grinning.

“I might be, we’ll see how today goes.”

A few of the group let out an ‘ooh’ with a laugh. I can already tell it’s easy to find a place in the group.

“So, Y/n, where are you from?” Erin asks.

“Chicago. Born and raised.” I grin, “That’s where I met Nat, at school.”

“Wait so you went to school with Natalie and David?” Matt questions.

“No, college with Nat.” I explain, “We were on the same floor of our dorm freshman year.”

“Yeah, we practically lived together because we both hated our roommates.” Natalie laughs, knocking her shoulder into mine lightly.

The rest of the room picks up with conversation, some moments it feels slightly like an interrogation with all of the questions they’re throwing at me. It feels good though to have a group of friends. It’s been nice to get to know everyone a little better. David is a really funny and charming guy. 

“Hey uh Y/n?” David asks, grabbing my attention.

The room falls quiet, I turn my head to face him.

“Yeah?”

“Can we go talk? Outside?” He nods his head back towards his yard.

“Of course.” I get up from the couch and follow up to the sliding glass doors. Neither of us are oblivious to the whispers being exchanged.

“I’m happy to say that you live up to Natalie’s hype.” I grin, we both take a seat on one of his lounge chairs. “Don’t tell her I said that though, she’d be pissed if you knew she actually enjoys your company.”

“Well that’s good to hear.” David smiles, “You definitely live up to the name too. The first year Natalie was out here she wouldn’t shut up about you. It was almost annoying.”

“Well that’s great.” I laugh, “So how do you feel about all of this?”

David follows my hand as I gesture between the two of us.

“It’s scary to say the least.” He pauses to run one of his hands through his hair, “But you seem really nice, I feel like I can trust you. You blend in with the rest of my friends really well.”

“Yeah, they’re definitely a fun crowd.” I glance back over my shoulder towards the house.

“How do you feel about it?”

“I need this if I’m being completely honest. I have been struggling since I came out here. I don’t know how much Nat told you, but I have a heart disease. I’ve had it since I was a child, my parents wanted to keep me close because all they do is worry. I have fought to travel and live independently, after I graduated I moved here. Which also got me cut off from their insurance.”

“Wow, that’s…” David exhales looking somewhat dumbfounded.

“A lot. I know, I’m sorry to dump that on you, I just want to give you the full story.”

“No, it’s good! I’m glad you did. We both need this. I am being threatened to be kicked out of the country I grew up in. I pay taxes here, yet I’m not allowed to stay here, Unless I get a green card. My DACA lawyer is guessing years before I could get approved, that’s assuming Trump doesn’t kick me out before that. If I even get a speeding ticket, it can be grounds for deportation.”

“Wow.” I lean back against the chair.

“Yeah, it’s a lot.” He leans over too, his leg pressing on mine.

“So, you wanna do this?” He whips his head to looks at me.

“I think I’m in.” I let out a huff of air, “This is crazy isn’t it?”

“Absolutely insane.” David conquers with a laugh.

“Let's do it.”

~

FEEDBACK PLZ

PART TWO

[renaroo]

Cass Cain vs the Bat Family for the last slice of Alfred's pie. "Is that a challenge?"

A/N: This became a more Batfam entirety kind of story and then a commentary on the madness of quarantine in my own family using Uno as a proxy. Regardless it was a lot of fun to do.

Four Walls and Attitude 

Oracle places her hand against the map behind her. What was once a black and white scaled model of Gotham is now glowing a radioactive green with shades of green depending on the island, the neighborhood, and even the street.

Everyone, including Batman, stares in awe of the projection.

“In other words,” Oracle says, looking sharply over her glasses, “there is absolutely no way we can operate like normal without causing things getting worse.”

Silence spreads quickly throughout the cave. Most of them don’t even know what to make of the information.

Finally, giving voice to the general shock, Nightwing finally says, “Wow. Corona killed Batman.”

“It did not, the rest of you are staying in the manor,” Batman concludes, leading to an eruption of disagreement.

“Did you not pay attention to what I just said?” Oracle demands. “It goes for you, too, Bruce. No one in this cave can leave without it causing a major public health challenge. We patrol too many areas, cross-contaminate with each other too often, and, worst of all, we have immunocompromised family members of our own to worry about.”

It was an intentionally vague statement, but it doesn’t stop the meaningful glances toward Alfred and Red Robin.

Red Robin crosses his arms angrily. “I resent that statement.”

“Maybe keep better track of your spleen,” Red Hood snorts.

Black Bat is uncertain, shifting on her heels. “What do we do?”

“Social distance and adapt,” Oracle answers easily, straightening her glasses. “It’s possible to fight crime without punching people, you realize. That’s my entire M.O.”

The other vigilantes look at each other warily.

***

The size of the manor was enough reason on its own for them to make it their main base of quarantine. There are obviously more than enough supplies, more rooms than any of them could use independently, and access to equipment and the cave should emergencies arise.

Not to mention, the vast majority of them live there already.

Stephanie calls her mom, Barbara messages the Birds of Prey, and they all find solo activities for the first day, only really intersecting at the library, the kitchen, and the entertainment room during chance encounters.

That seemed to be a good call. And when there is a need for some social interaction, it’s almost always in their usual social groups however they naturally lie.

No one sees Bruce but that seems pretty par for the course.

It isn’t until the third day that things get slightly more challenging.

Stephanie, Duke, and Cassandra enter the mini-theater room with a giant tub of popcorn. The lights are off, but the projector is running and the main couch is occupied by Dick and Damian.

“Oh, didn’t realize you guys were in here,” Duke says sheepishly.

“SHH!” Damian hisses at them.

Dick arches back enough to look at the trio over his shoulder. “No problem, we’re watching Planet Earth. Want to join?”

Stephanie and Duke look at each other with mirrored grimaces.

Cassandra squints at the screen. “No,” she answers for them. “How long?”

“We’re marathoning,” Dick shrugs. “Started about an hour ago—“

“SHH!” Damian snarls at them again.

“We were hoping to watch a movie,” Steph says. Her gaze falls more on Damian than Dick, since he is no doubt the one to appeal to. “The Breakfast Club, it’s a classic. You’d like it.”

Duke looks at them all skeptically. “He would? Really?”

“Cass, you know there’s a different television set,” Dick says, pointing to the floor below.

“Tim’s playing,” Cass says in response, her hands holding up an invisible controller as she mimes Tim’s thumb movements.

“There’s a million places you can set up a laptop,” Dick continues to plea.

That earns a crossed look from Stephanie. “So? What do we need to do? Start putting signup sheets in all the rooms? Just share the projector with us after Planet Earth switches episodes.”

“No,” Dick and Damian say in unison.

The trio leaves the room angrily and, within the hour, clipboards with signup sheets begin being mysteriously adhered to all of the main rooms.

***

Jason has made it a point, nearly every day, to remind everyone that he will be the easiest adjusted to quarantine because he is the only true introvert.

The number of times the words introvert and isolated have left his mouth climb so high that, in secret, everyone is beginning to doubt the truth to them. If he is an introvert to the exponential extremes that he professes, surely he would not need to keep finding where everyone else is hiding to let them know it.

He has an alternating list of Zoom calls he is on each day. Hangouts he makes himself, making a point to inform the others quarantined to the manor than they are not invited to it.

The list of who is invited to it seems to grow by the day.

Kyle Rayner, Donna Troy, Ryan Choi. Then Roy Harper, Koriand'r, and Jade Nguyen. Then Artemis, Bizarro, and Miguel Barragan. Out of nowhere Duela Dent, Rose Wilson, and Suzie Su.

It’s halfway into the second week and Jason has the audacity to come into Tim’s room, pull off his headphones, and ask him if he’s bored.

“You know what I think,” Tim says, more than a little irritated. “I think you’re actually not an introvert. I think you’re not an introvert and you’re taking out your need for social contact out on the rest of us.”

Jason considers his comment, then breaks the expensive Beats in half before walking out the door.

***

Alfred begins making many desserts.

It starts with requests. Of course he will make whatever meal or whatever treat is asked of him, because it is nice to have all his loved ones safe, secure, and in the same location for once. Many of the desserts aren’t even difficult.

Then, somehow, they morph into bribes.

Despite the fact that Alfred has remained tight-lipped about his exact age for all these years, the quote-unquote children insist that he is too old to venture out of quarantine. Thus he must stay in the manor and rely on them to stock the pantry.

This doesn’t seem altogether terrible until it becomes obvious to Alfred that whoever he sends out will only get the foodstuffs they desire and not any of the important staples Alfred puts on the list.

Thus, the trades begin.

He can’t make his famous flan without evaporated milk. He positively will not make ginger layer cake without wine poached pears. And how can they snack on peach and pistachio tarts without honey?

Before Alfred has realized it, he has created monsters. Sugar craved, bored little monsters.

He puts a limit on the sweets he will cook in hopes of focusing instead on cooking favorite meals, but it’s too late.

Even Bruce is checking in on the kitchen at odd hours, looking curiously under the cake plate.

And cutting back the number of sweets Alfred is producing through the week also leads to another unforeseen circumstance.

They begin competing for what sweets are left.

***

Bruce looks in disbelief at the screen. Then he looks at the others. Then back to the screen.

“I distinctly remember us being on episode four,” Bruce says in a voice that edges on Batman.

“Last night, yeah,” Duke agrees, helping Alfred with everyone’s drinks.

No one else seems to find fault with the statement and are waiting for Bruce to continue. They pick at their independent devices lazily, only half attentive to any one thing.

It’s very dissatisfying considering the huge inconsistency that Bruce is detecting on their streaming service.

“Why is it saying that we’ve watched all the episodes already?” Bruce demands, voice sounding more hurt than he meant to let on.

Dick and Barbara simultaneously look up from their phones, toward each other, then back down. The others don’t even bother breaking their concentrations.

“You finished the entire series without me?” Bruce presses.

“Father,” Damian finally speaks up, sounding exasperated, “it is impossible to properly view things with you.”

Bruce squints at his youngest. “What does that mean?”

“It’s not just you, Bruce,” Stephanie says quickly, trying to smooth things over. “I can’t watch shows with my mom either.”

“Boomers just don’t know how to binge-watch,” Tim cuts with the final blow, not even looking up from his laptop.

Leaving the room in spite of protests, Bruce decides he is never going to watch the end of the show out of spite.

***

Cassandra has apparently made it a habit to not let others see her walk through doorways. As a result, she seemingly appears in rooms more than she enters them. Or, at the very least, she acts as though she just always has been and it is the other party who is intruding on her space.

As a result, it’s not altogether shocking when Duke looks up from his newly prepared plate and is met by his sister.

She is staring at his plate more than him.

“Oh, hey, Sis,” he offers her all the same. Then, instinctively, he shifts his shoulders to somewhat create a barrier between his plate and her. “What’s up?”

“Apple pie,” Cass announces as if it answers everything.

“Mmhmm,” Duke replies cautiously.

“Last piece?” she asks, her eyes gleaming.

“I’m sure Alfred will make another,” Duke says, then, slowly adding, “eventually.”

“Mine,” she snaps.

“No, you don’t even eat yours with vanilla ice cream!” Duke argues back, almost turning his back on her completely. “Just eat some of the cookies.”

“No!” Cass says, quickly shifting to be more aligned with the treat. “You eat them.”

“Cass, I got here first!” Duke snaps back, hooking afoot around the leg of the nearest chair. “Fair and square.”

“It was my pie,” Cass hisses. “I’ll take it back!”

“Is that a challenge?” Duke asks.

He sees her lunging and immediately kicks out the leg of the chair as he flips over it.

Cassandra is quick as ever and easily somersaults off of the falling chair to land over Duke’s shoulders. Her force is enough to send Duke’s body tumbling forward, but his body has proper instincts. He holds up the plate of pie above all else while using his free hand to find new ground, twirl his body out, and roll his head forward. Cass tumbles off his shoulders.

She hits the counters, but not before kicking off her shoe and sending it flying for Duke’s face.

He twists enough to lighten some of the impact, but the well-aimed shoe sends Duke into a tailspin.

The pie hits the floor with a sickening thud.

The siblings look crestfallen toward the prize, then each other.

Then they get angry.

By the time Barbara and Alfred burst onto the scene to break things up, the fight has utterly devolved and grown to the size of five Wayne heirs, three of which had no idea what the initial fight was even over.

Jason filmed it and sent it to everyone in his extended Zoom call list.

***

They are at each other’s throats. It turns out the Manor doesn’t have enough rooms.

Even Alfred’s treats are not enough to soothe the tensions anymore. Any little thing can set them off. So they spend the rest of the week finding solitary activities, barely communicating with words anymore.

Finally, some wounds begin to heal when Stephanie speaks to a room of others on their Switches.

“Hey, does anybody have an island with cherries?”

They play in harmony again, comparing villagers in hushed tones and sharing patterns for clothes.

Momentarily, there is hope that the peace will last forever, to the rhythm of island music and Blathers’ gibberish words.

It gives them twenty-seven hours of peace and nothing more.

***

“This absolutely will not work,” Barbara sputters as she pulls up to the table.

The others look at her with mild surprise, but they’re already seated. Jason is shuffling in preparation to deal. The arrangement from his left on is Stephanie, Cassandra, Barbara herself, Dick, Duke, Tim, and then Damian.

Damian is flanked by Jason and Tim. And only Barbara sees what the problem with this is.

“I am looking at a public safety hazard,” Barbara presses. “Dick, seriously, you’re going to let them do this?”

He thinks about it. “It’s a learning experience,” he determines.

“You dealing in or nah, Red?” Jason pushes.

She glares at them all, certain this is purposeful on at least some of their behalves, but she crosses her arms. “Okay, fine,” she says.

Jason deals out seven to everyone. Once he puts the deck in the middle, he turns over the first Uno card — green three — and with his free hand reaches in his jacket pocket for cigarettes. The others are already playing while Jason looks slightly miffed if not panicked when he can’t find the pack.

Under the table, Barbara can feel the shuffle of a pack of cigarettes being passed between other members of the table.

Shockingly enough, Jason doesn’t say anything verbally, but his eyes are already glaring at Damian as the pickpocket.

Stephanie puts down green nine.

Cassandra green Draw Two.

Barbara draws two.

Dick puts down a yellow Draw Two.

“No fair,” Duke chuckles.

Tim puts down a yellow Reverse.

Damian narrows his eyes. “You think you’re clever, don’t you, Drake?”

Duke yellow eight.

Yellow four.

Yellow two.

Blue two.

Blue three.

Blue Reverse.

Damian glares at Jason. “Is this planned?”

“How can they plan Uno, Dami?” Steph asks. Blue one.

Blue seven.

Barbara looks over her glasses at the table. She’s lost track of the cigarettes. “Don’t underestimate these people, Stephanie,” she warns as the ends up drawing five cards before finally laying down green seven.

Green nine.

Wild Card. “Let’s go with,” Duke looks through his hand cautiously, “Yellow again.”

There is a suspicious twitch to Tim’s lips as he puts down a Draw Four. “Let’s go back to red.”

Damian releases an explosion of expletives and leaps to stand on his chair.

“Ah, it was a mistake, my bad,” Dick says, rubbing a hand down his face.

***

Bruce is stone-faced at dinner, strangely fixated on his plate.

It’s not overly concerning, Bruce tends to be in quiet contemplation on most days regardless.

He finally looks up, though, and glares at them all.

“I finished it on my own,” he informs them.

They all stare back.

“Tiger King,” he clarifies. “They’re all guilty. But also. What the hell.”

Everyone collectively loses their minds again.

Alfred sighs and begins drafting a rotation for getting them all out of the manor more.

[dahvangogh]

and empty words are evil | jason todd

[ prologue | one | two | three | four | five ]

[ao3 link] [masterlist]

note: hello there!I usually post a new chapter every Tuesday but I had my finals this week and it was impossible for me to finish the damn chapter on time. So, I'm sorry. If this happens again, I promise I'll say something on my Tumblr. Now with the chapter... There is a certain scene I'm very happy to finally post, though I'm not very happy about how I wrote the big final scene.Thank you all for your comments, hits and kudos, they have all made me so so so happy. Now, I want to ask... Is my writing okay? I find it a bit stiff or weird, though because it's not my native language I'm not sure if that's true or it's truly okay.What do you think about the new chapter? Did you like it? What do you think will happen next? Please, leave a comment down below if you can and see you on the next one!

Much love xx

CHAPTER FOUR

“As if you were on fire from within.

The moon lives in the lining of your skin.” – Pablo Neruda

Saturday had been ethic, to say the least. Grace had accompanied Lisa to Gotham City General Hospital after her friend had called her boss a thousand times and he hadn’t answered the phone. Her blonde friend could be fun and always ready for trouble, but she would always be the first one to lend a helping hand. The Hospital’s main entrance had been crowded with police guarding the doors and reporters crowding around.

Grace had waited outside while Lisa went inside through the employees’ door. Ten minutes later, and a headache from the shouts and yells from the paparazzi to the poor policemen doing their job, she had gotten a text from her friend telling her she was staying to help and will call her later.

The raven-haired had gone to a small bookshop, a hidden gem in the gothic-themed city, trying to calm her rage with a new book.

She had ended buying a beautiful vintage version of Wuthering Heights, despite having read it in her kindle many times, and sat all morning in a Parisian-themed café. She had finished it whole while sipping a cappuccino with the sirens of the police cars and ambulances as a background soundtrack.

That evening, after having a small meal due to her queasy stomach, she had pressed play to her 70s music playlist and cleaned her house from head to bottom until everything was spotless. After finishing, she had taken a relaxing bath and almost drowned when falling asleep in the bathtub. After that, Grace had chatted a bit with Lisa, who had seemed tired and without wanting to talk much about the hospitalized police officers or anything; then ate a small dinner, again due to her unsettled stomach, and finally, she had jumped to her big comfy bed.

She sighs, hugging one of her big pillows, turning around and still not comfortable.

Tomorrow…

The room is pitch dark, except the soft night light sneaking through the curtains that cover her ceiling to floor windows, and the raven-haired doesn’t hear any sounds, as usual, emitted by the busy city below her tower.

She will pay for what she has done.

She turns again, this time face down while hugging a bit her pillow, and places her head looking to the side.

Finally comfortable, Grace drifts off.

[ -  -  - ]

Grace feels on cloud nine.

Her bed has never felt as comfortable and warm as it does now, so she refuses to wake up. She wants to prolong this moment for as long as she can, to break such a rare moment of peace –where her anxiety is tamed and not as high as a skyscraper, or her hands aren’t feeling clammy despite rubbing them together nonstop–, would be like committing a sacrilege.

So, she keeps her eyes closed and her face furrowed on her warm pillow.

Her hand, resting on her flat stomach, starts moving –without her wanting to– and travels until touching something hard but warm.

She feels the steady beat of a heart through the palm of her hand.

Though, it isn’t her heart.

The raven-haired wants to go full alert, her mind screaming inside about the dangers of someone being near her while she is so vulnerable, but her body doesn’t follow orders.

She has never felt more at ease than she does now.

Don’t mistake her, Grace’s mind keeps screaming inside her, still trying to make her body answer but yet she remains in the same position.

Grace stays laying face down with her hand on someone’s hard chest.

She feels a strong big arm sneak under her neck, now acting as another pillow despite her head lying on one, and its hand starts combing through her hair, the movements slow and steady.

It feels so good, she almost moans out loud.

Her feet finally move a bit, swimming in the sea of silky and soft sheets, until they meet the touch of another pair. Her toes shyly touch the foreigner limbs for a few seconds, as if exploring and meeting someone new. Instinctively then, instead of jumping out of the bed as any sane person would, she interlocks their limbs together.

That gets her a reaction from the mysterious being.

A soft caress on her cheek, so soft and loving she wants to cry and beg for the touch to never stop, and so she answers tugging his feet closer towards her limbs.

“Love… ” the low male whisper is as soft as a feather and gives her goosebumps, “Love.”

She opens her eyes slowly, forgetting the warnings her mind keeps shouting inside her and discerns a pale chiseled jaw connected to a thick and strong-looking neck thanks to the night light sneaking through her curtains.

“Oh, there she is.” the mocking tone on the voice doesn’t hide how loving the sentence sounds, plump lips curling into the hottest and sweetest smile she has ever seen. “Hello, love.”

Her fingertips itch to touch him, to memorize those soft lips and strong jaw so later she can draw him until she runs out of paper, and it makes her feel so weird and stalkerish. Grace feels her cheeks redden and quickly looks down, accidentally moving and placing her head on the croak of his neck, hiding from him.

He chuckles softly.

“Oh, I see... we playing hide and seek?” his big hand combs through her locks, calmly untangling her dark tresses. Then, just as calm, he begins his countdown. “Ten…”

He is so warm and she feels truly safe and loved in his arms.

Her stare is directly on his abs, now realizing that her lover sports a ridiculously perfect six-pack which unintentionally makes her toes twitch. She can’t help herself and so her stare travels a bit lower.

“Five”

Grace bites her lip when seeing the dark happy trail below his belly button and follows it with her eyes, almost gasping out loud when seeing his V line. Her eyes go up, trying not to see what’s lower of that V line, and sees his broad chest. She can’t help but think, how it is much better sculpted than even Michelangelo’s David. Her hand, already placed on it from before, slowly travels towards the attractive jaw with her eyes following the movement.

She caresses his strong jaw, feeling the beginning of stubble growing, sighing loudly as she cups his cheek.

“One.”

He feels so soft and warm, perfectly fitting the palm of her hand as if it had been created just for her, and so she sighs again, totally entranced.

After six years of avoiding any physical touch or intimacy, Grace feels like she wants to kiss someone.

Her toes curl at the thought of losing herself in his arms, to devour those soft and plump lips of his until she is left breathless and her body completely flushed.

Grace closes her eyes and turns her face to the side, reverently kissing his palm once.

She hears him emit a low sound that makes her tummy and a place lower inside her throb until her toes curl again. It is a foreigner feeling, one she has never felt before, almost scaring her how her whole body is burning with want and need.

“Don’t leave me.”

She can’t help but beg.

He feels like how perfection probably feels like.

His arms feel strong and loving, and it has been a long time since Grace has felt as loved and protected as she does now, and he tugs her closer.

“Please…”

She opens her eyes, wanting to remember this moment; a tear falling and running through her cheek.

Her lover, propping himself up on an elbow while hugging her towards him, kisses the hand on his cheek. Then, his face comes closer until the tip of his nose rubs her own in an Eskimo kiss.

She can’t help herself and smiles lovingly at him, her arms encircling his neck and hugging him towards her.

“Be with me always. Take any form, drive me mad!” she lets out a small gasp, his quoting of Wuthering Heights making her thighs rub together. “Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you... ”

His left-hand cups her cheek, tenderly caressing it, and she tilts her head towards it.

“Oh, God. it is unutterable... ” he nips at her lower lip, then drags it towards him and lets it go with a soft kiss. His cheeks are tinted adorably red. “I can not live without my life, I can not live without my soul.”

She looks up, needing eye-contact and to discover if his eyes are as beautiful as she sees him is, when everything goes dark.

Grace wakes up, desperately looking beside her and patting the empty bedside beside her as if searching for him, then looks at the alarm on her nightstand.

It’s 05:55.

The raven-haired fans herself with her hand, tying her hair up despite the tresses sticking to her neck and face.

It felt so real.

Why did it feel so real?

She rubs her thighs together, sweat coating her forehead and feeling too hot despite the doors of her bedroom’s balcony being wide open. Grace gulps, her mouth feeling as dry as sandpaper, and she raises from her bed.

Immediately, she notices how wet her panties are.

“Oh god… ”

The raven-haired goes to the kitchen, opens the refrigerator and picks up a glass water bottle. She chugs it, drinking straight from the bottle instead of pouring it in a glass as she usually would, and smacks it against the marble aisle.

She puts her hands on her hips and almost jumps from how weird the contact feels, her body still feels clammy and too tender.

Grace decides a cold shower and a change of pajamas, underwear included, is in order.

The shower is as quick as lightning, probably similar to those that superhero Flash has, and she quickly picks up one of her brand new sketch pads and her pencil case on her way to her living room’s balcony.

She plops herself in the white armchair and draws him, all that she saw of him and touched with her fingers, drafting and drawing him throughout many pages of her sketchpad.

Ten pages just of his body.

His thick and strong neck.

His chiseled jaw.

His plump lips.

His sweet and perfect smile.

The only thing that makes her wake up from this sort of trance, after three hours of drawing him so she will remember him when her mind fails to, is her phone ringing annoyingly.

She picks it up.

“Bitch! I’ve been bombarding you with messages since an hour ago!” Lisa’s loud voice makes her furrow her brows. “You okay?”

Grace gulps and tries to smile.

“Yeah… yeah. ” she nods, which is stupid because Lisa can’t see her. “I was just drawing, you know how I get when I’m in my bubble… ”

“Oh, yeah. Well, why don’t we go to Pauli’s Diner for a good breakfast and to disconnect?”

Grace raises a brow.

“Aren’t you still at work?”

“Nah, the boss gave me Sunday off because I went to help yesterday.” She hears her friend sigh dramatically. “I offered my free Saturday to help and he said I could have today off. Weird, right? Since when is my boss a good person that cares about others? But fuck it, a good breakfast will do me some good.”

She laughs at her best friend’s ramble.

“Okay, see you in fifteen minutes on our spot!”

Grace stands up, her sketchpad and blanket dropping on the floor.

“Wait! I can’t… ”

But her friend already hung up.

“Lisa! ”

[ - - - ]

The first thing Grace does after coming back from her breakfast with Lisa is to take an Advil. Then, she proceeds to shut the curtains, and only when the room is completely pitch black, she lays down on the bed and falls into the arms of Morpheus.

She wakes up at four pm thanks to the mailman, her migraine gone almost completely.

Yesterday, on her way home from the Parisian-themed café, she had dialed her father and asked for the urgent delivery of antivenin doses.

After six years, he didn’t even question her.

“It will be at your house tomorrow, sweetheart. Please… whatever it is, be careful.”

It seems, despite her never explaining anything, her father somehow knew she leads a sort of dangerous life. Though thankfully, he hadn’t mentioned it to her mother or long ago, Grace would have been submitted to extensive interrogation by her mom.

She opens the package and scans its contents. Three antivenins doses in its syringes with a plastic cap protecting their thin needles.

“Tonight,” she mutters to herself while storing them away in a small pouch in the utility belt of her suit. She stares at the black suit and touches it, her body shaking with excitement. “Tonight”.

Then, Grace prepares a quick meal and eats it in her living room’s balcony while finishing an essay for one of her classes, with a fluffy blanket protecting her body against the cold October wind.

She thinks and overthinks about what to do with Quinn.

I should drag her and Ivy to the GCPD with a bow tied around them.

She slowly chews her garlic bread, then drinks a bit more of her fresh orange juice.

Or should I just kill them? From what I know, both have killed their fair innocent people before Friday and they are a danger to society.

Grace keeps pondering about it while brushing her teeth, then tying her hair up in a bun, and changing into her sports bra and yoga pants.

She would probably decide what to do while training in the gym.

Probably.

[ - - - ]

It is truly a pity that Toxic Acres’s newly built houses and its neighborhood will forever, or at least until further notice, remain unsuitable as a residence for civilians due to its close proximity to a toxic waste dump.

The neighborhood is actually beautiful, though it is a deadly beauty.

Grace thinks she is immune to the toxicity surrounding the neighbor. When she had visited Quinn’s home the night they met and the other many times, including her special delivery of explosives, she hadn’t felt sick at all or had any subsequent effects of poisoning due to toxicity.

Yet, she knows Poison Ivy is an expert in not only poisonous plants and toxins but also of entrancing people with her pheromones.

Therefore, she had injected one of the antivenins at home before putting her suit and gear on and teleporting to the neighborhood.

Better safe than sorry, right?

Now, in front of Quinn’s apartment door, Grace seriously considers knocking or ringing the bell. Her good manners and impeccable vocabulary are always present, even before killing or arresting someone.

My parents raised me to be a proper lady… And while I don’t know if I’m a lady, I am totally well-mannered.

She ends up deciding that today she will be a bit rude.

The raven-haired extends her left hand and Jedi-like slides her palm, the main door opening without resistance from any lock.

Grace high heeled boots clatter as she walks herself in uninvited.

Why do I feel so edgy?

She hears Bud and Lou immediately come running towards her, their hoot-laugh annoying her to no end, and so she decides to quickly put them to sleep. She snaps her fingers and hears the sound of them collapsing to the floor.

“Bud?! Lou?!” Harley sounds between worried and alarmed. She keeps walking through the hallway towards the big living room. “My babies!”

She reclines her body on the threshold of the room, smiling sweetly despite wanting to knock Harley’s teeth off.

“Grace?” Harley’s pale face is masked in confusion, her head adorably tilted. “What are ya’ doing here?”

Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar

Quinn is sitting on the sofa, curled up into Poison Ivy’s side, wearing a set of black and red pajamas with diamond and heart symbols printed all over it. Despite that, she is wearing matching makeup on and her hair is styled in two ponytails.

“Hello, Harley.”

She turns towards the redhead and almost steps back.

The pull that woman has is powerful and scary at the same time. Her aura and body are constantly emitting pheromones and toxins, and just in case Grace lets her power visibly curl around her to protect herself.

“Harl, is that your friend Grace?” Ivy’s seductive and airy voice asks Quinn.

Pamela Isley is painfully beautiful in a unique way. Long fiery-red hair falling in soft waves around her torso, tan skin glowing and plump green lips. She is wearing silk pale green pajamas and they look more sensual than comfortable or homey.

The couple coordinately stands up from the big red sofa, the unconscious hyenas scattered near it, and look to her as if expecting her to explain why did she break-in.

Duh.

“You must be Ivy.” she smiles to the redhead, nodding her head. “Pleasure to finally meet you.”

Through the corner of her eye, she sees vines and plants start curling around the walls and floor. Ivy sort of smiles, probably feeling between friendliness and suspicion due to the green bluish aura surrounding her –or the unconscious hyenas–, and nods to what she just said.

“Likewise. Harley has told me everything about you.” the couple is now five feet away from her, though the blonde is kneeling while trying to wake up her dear pets. “A friend of Harl is a friend of mine.”

She mockingly opens her mouth in surprise.

“A friend of Harley?” she feigns astonishment, even going as far as placing a hand atop her right breast. “Me?”

Harley looks up while still remaining in the same position.

“Of course, you’re my friend. Ya’ helped me! ”

She would have smiled at Harley’s sweet smile if she wasn’t as angry as she currently was.

“But friends don’t lie to each other, right Harley?”

The blonde tilts her head, then stands.

“What… whatcha mean?”

Ivy takes a step towards her, vines and plants falling from the ceiling and bursting from the floor, the living room starting to look more like a botanic garden than a homey place.

“The police, Harley.” she tilts her head, a maniac smile appearing on her face. “The police.”

Harley stands up while blinking quizzically, then it seems she finally gets it and smiles shamefaced, her mouth curling in a bashful smile.

“Oops.”

Grace clenches her fists and the ceiling blows up, vines and plants falling from the sky as if it was raining nature.

“My plants! How dare you!?”

Ivy’s scream doesn’t even faze her, the raven-haired too angry with the harlequin to even feel threatened or scared.

“10 people have died in total, Quinn! Ten! And two are in critical condition!” she yells and the sofa and tv explode. Quinn, just shrugs which makes her even angrier than before, “You promised!”

“Accidents happen, ya’ know?”

The blonde’s high pitched voice annoys her now more than ever.

“You little piece of shit… ” Grace takes a step forward and extends her hand, going for her usual neck chokehold. She doesn’t even register her own coarse vocabulary. “You are so dead.”

Harley floats up in the air but before flying towards her glowing hand, vines start encircling her legs and arms, binding her to the floor.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” the redhead raises her perfectly plucked brow and new vines emerge from the floor, slapping and trying to stab her. “It’s over for you, nature always wins.”

She swats them away with her power, the vines either catching on fire or completely burning out.

Poison Ivy screams, a sound so high and piercing that Grace feels like her eardrums will probably burst and she will end up deaf. Out of nowhere, Harley jumps high towards her, swinging her circus hammer –where the hell did she get, it is a mystery to her– and she extends her hand, seeing clearly the perfect opening to grab the blonde.

Bingo.

Harley’s neck is now on her hand.

“I specially asked you to not kill any of the GCPD while you helped Ivy escape or I would kill you with my bare hands.” A circle of power protects both of them from Ivy’s nonstop attacks, though Grace doesn’t pay her as much attention as she probably should. The ebony-haired raises the hand she isn’t using, bites her index finger and slides her leather black glove off. “I keep my promises.”

The circus hammer falls to the ground as Grace tightens her hold on the blonde’s neck with her gloveless hand.

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” the harlequin is still smiling and talking despite her very strong grip. A sudden attack of many pointy and deadly looking vines makes Grace lose her balance a bit, but the defense circle repels it and even sets on fire a few of them. “This is just a misunderstanding… I thought you said civilians, not cops!”

“Cut the bullshit! I clearly said cops!” her grip tightens even more, by now any normal person would have already blacked out or even died from lack of oxygen. “Stop lying!”

“Drop her or you will end up being fertilizer for my dear plants!”

“Oh, shut it.” she makes a motion of shooing her away with her gloveless hand, but Ivy uses her vines as a shield. “You will be next, don’t worry!”

Ivy’s next attack almost shatters the defensive shield.

“Quinn, last words?”

The redheaded vines raise up in the sky, thicker and more pointy than ever, the moon shining through the thick and lush vines.

“Believe me, no one wants to hear them.”

The words are followed with loud sounds of shots being fired and the surprise makes her drop Harley. Quickly, Grace creates a new protecting circle around herself. After all, the other shield was close to being completely shattered.

That voice… Red Hood? Impossible!

She looks up while Harley runs towards where Ivy is.

It seems the ceiling hadn’t blown up completely before, for he is standing up on the floor of the apartment above them while shooting down towards Ivy and her vines –the later using her plants as a shield for Harley and herself–.

His aura burns so brightly and fiercely, it almost makes her fear that she will catch on fire and burn too.

“Red?”

He looks exactly like he did back then.

She is alarmed that she feels happy and elated that he didn’t die.

“Don’t worry, I will take care of you when I finish with these two.”

Grace huffs loudly at his audacity, despite her clearly being able to kill him with the snap of her fingers.

“Take care of me? Careful or I will throw a wall to your face.”

She hears his loud laugh, technologically modified by his helmet.

“We will see.”

Through the corner of her eye Grace registers Harley picking up her circus hammer and new pointy stems of plants rising from the ground.

“This is all very nice and shit, but she attacked me first!”

Harley yells while marching towards her.

“Because you killed those cops, you liar!”

Poison Ivy’s stem rise and thicken, their pointy ends shinning by the light from the moon, advancing towards her.

It seems Red Hood takes pity on her and he unleashes a curvy blade, jumping atop the thick stems and slashing them.

Focus on Harley.

She sends bolt after bolt of her powers to the blonde, but she keeps dogging them and approaching her. Grace quickly muses and decides that she needs to  try something new, and so she concentrates her power on her hands and sends a blast.

“Nature always wins, Red Hood!”

It hits Harley directly on the chest and sends her flying towards the opposite wall.

She analyses her aura, its flames dull and calm, and so she realizes that the blonde is completely knocked out.

Grace turns towards Ivy and Red Hood, the later wrestling with a thick stem while dodging attack after attack from other stems. The raven-haired looks around, searching for something to tie up Harley until she remembers she always carries a few zip ties on one of the pouches in her utility belt.

She ties Harley’s hands behind her back and punches her in the face.

“That’s for lying, you clown.”

The maniac cackle of Ivy alarms her.

“That’s it, you are dead!”

She turns, alarmed by those words, and sees the exact moment when one of the many thick pointy stems cuts him on his left wrist. He had been wrestling and cutting plant after plant with his curved blade while Ivy relentlessly attacked him.

“Red?!”

Grace sends a concentrated and powerful blast towards Poison Ivy and it hits the redhead right on the face, knocking her to the nearest wall. The plants recede into the ground or curl away from the ceiling until the room no longer looks like a botanical garden and more like a messy and wrecked living room.

He turns around, his LED white eyes staring at her, wobbling while taking a step further.

“You… ”

He staggers again, his strong and heavy body swaying a bit, and groans while putting one of his gloved hands to his face.

Twenty bucks say that plant was poisonous.

“That crazy bitch… ”

She circles him and walks towards Ivy, kneeling on the ground and tying the redhead’s hands behind her back.

“There.”

Grace hears another groan and she looks over her shoulder.

“Don’t move, I will hand your ass to… the… police. ”

She tries not to laugh out loud at seeing him, so big and strong looking, wobbling like that while still trying to go up against her.

“Oh Red, you never fail to amuse… ”

“Stay there.”

He takes a step further and suddenly drops to the ground, the loud sound of his body hitting the floor matching with his loud groan.

She gasps, quickly rising and approaching him.

Grace kneels beside him, picking both his wrists to searching for the slash.

He grabs her wrist, his hold tight.

“What do you... think… you are doing?”

She searches through her pouches in her utility belt and takes one of the two remaining syringes out, dropping it in his chest. Then, she grabs the wrist where the slash is and rolls up his sleeve. His pale forearm is heavy and looks strong, her two arms probably make one of his, the veins bulging out quite a bit and she tries not to think how hot it is.

What can she say, she always had a thing for veiny hands and arms.

“What? No… no…  no.”

He tries to break free from her hold but she tugs his arm so it stays in place.

“I’m saving your life, you dumbass. So be quiet and stay put.”

With her free hand, she quickly picks up the syringe and bites the cap off the needle. Then, she holds his wrist so tightly it cuts his circulation and when a blueish vein stands out notoriously, she injects the needle and plunges the antivenin in.

“It’s antivenin, you will feel better in a few minutes.” She extracts the needle, pressing her tumb where she injected it so it does leave a bruise. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything to disinfect the slash though.”

He grunts in answer.

“Oh, you big baby.” she mocks him, then laughs while shaking her head. “Are you carrying any Band-Aids?”

He grunts again which makes her laugh.

“Want me to kiss it better?”

Now, it's his turn to laugh –the sound while technologically modified still sounds throaty and low.

“Well, this was fun but I’m getting out of here.” She pats him in the chest and sees how the bat symbol lights up, ready to leat a bolt of energy out. Grace quickly directs her power to her hands right in time to the symbol letting out a potent electrical shock. “Nice try.”

She stands up while he sits down holding his head, snapping her fingers and making the used syringe and cap disappear.

“I don’t remember that happening last time… What, you got that thing because you didn’t like me touching you?” she feigns to be hurt, though inside she feels alarmed that she might have hurt him last time with her careless actions. “I’m hurt.”

You hate people touching you that way, but then go around throwing yourself in someone’s arms without asking for his consent? You big hypocrite.

“No.” the word sounds guttural, though he quickly clears his throat and stands up. “It had been malfunctioning for a few days, you were just lucky.”

She tilts her head when she sees him put a hand at the back of his neck.

Is he embarrassed?

Grace laughs while turning around, ready to walk away and get the hell out of this place.

“Where the hell do you think you are going?”

He grabs her left wrist and turns her around.

“Me? Home.”

He laughs as if he can’t believe her.

“Don’t think so. I’m handing your ass in.”

She clicks her tongue.

“Why?”

“10 people died because of the explosives you gave Harley. Don’t feign ignorance, sweetheart?”

She sighs and relaxes her body, tilting her head up to see him because of how tall he is.

“Would you believe me if I tell you that I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt?” she points at Harley with her free hand. “I told her not to kill anyone, she lied to me and said she wouldn’t.”

He stares at her, not saying anything.

“That’s why I came here.” she shrugs while feeling like the worst person on the planet. “I was going to hand those two in.”

He tilts his head, his hold on her hand relaxing a bit.

“Sorry but that looked like you were going to strangle Quinn.”

His tone is mocking.

“She can be very annoying.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

She laughs at his comment, shaking her head.

“Let go of my wrist.” her voice is barely a whisper. “Please.”

He does as she said, though he takes a step further until they are both standing as close as humanly possible. She looks up even more than before, mentally cursing him for being so freaking tall, and places her hands on his hips.

“Now… can I go?”

“No.”

She pouts.

“Pretty please?”

He huffs and shakes his head.

“No.”

She concentrates a bit of her power on her hands and places them on his chest, the bat symbol uselessly letting go another electrical shock, and she shakes her head imitating him.

“Oh, c’mon Red!” she pouts again, trying to look seductive or at least cute enough to not hand her to the GCPD. “Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

He laughs loudly, a throaty sound that comes from deep within which she can feel through her glowy hands, and lowers his head so it’s closer to her face.

“Cute but no.”

She sighs dejected, then nods while patting his chest

“I’m sorry, Red.”

The glow in her hands brighten and he realizes what is about to happen, trying to pull back and avert the upcoming attack.

“Too late.”

She sends a blast his way and he collides with the wall, dropping to a sitting position beside Quinn’s unconscious form.

Grace takes advantage of his disoriented state and opens a portal to Robinson Park, where she plans to open another one to her house.

“Men… Always falling to the same old tricks.”

She sighs while saying it, knowing he will hear her, and crosses the portal until she is standing on the city’s main park. She turns around and sees him already standing up and running towards her.

“Bye, Red!”

Grace closes the portal on his face.

[archiveofidentityconstellations]

birds all sing | part 2

part 1

and we’re back! chapter has been revised for the better! enjoy!

August

“That’s right, give it a good hard stare. Make that menu tell you all its secrets.”

Selina’s whisper tickled his ear, which would have been pleasant if Bruce wasn’t so infuriated. The past couple of weeks had not gone according to plan. For one thing, Tim had not quit. Rather, he had reached into his resources and manipulated multiple employees as well as members of the board. Bruce couldn’t count how many visits of “good will” he had received since last week, hoping to make him “aware” in subtle terms of their position. Bruce wasn’t surprised, per se, at the actions Tim had taken. He had been a resourceful boy and now was a rather ruthless…man. Bruce adjusted in his seat. That was a trait that he had cultivated in him, and now the tables had turned. He did not regret cultivating the trait, not for an instant. Tim was the most cerebral of his sons, the one he could rely on to do what must be done, even to his detriment.

Especially to his detriment.

“Have you even tried talking to him?”

Barbara’s voice had been snappish, dry, and derisive, though lacking any real bite. Bruce had stopped by the clocktower in lieu of Tim for the monthly check-in. Bruce, being an adult, had kept the details of the situation from the family.

Which meant that Barbara had interrogated him the minute he stepped into the clocktower.

“It’s not about that,” he had told her. At her look he explained, “Tim is young. He’s young and he’s never branched out. Besides that, he never proceeds with the expected. He didn’t throw a shampoo bottle at my head and move out like Dick did. He left home by time I returned, and his lifestyle hasn’t been investigated since then.”

“You really think getting married is his act of rebellion?”

Her tone was not flattering. Bruce bristled.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” he said. “Children are—“

“I think you don’t understand, Bruce, I really think you don’t,” she interrupted. “This isn’t a catch-all situation, it never is. You always think there’s a formula to these things. Why, I don’t know, especially since the fall-out is always terrible. My ears are still ringing from Jason’s tantrum in the eighth grade. You wouldn’t let him know why he wasn’t allowed to go on that D. C. field trip, remember that?”

Bruce did.

“Look,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m not here to argue or to lecture or any of that. I don’t think you’d listen to me if I did, though I’d try my damndest to make you.”

He scoffed. She smirked.

“I just want you to consider that this isn’t about you.”

Bruce paused. “How could this not be about me?”

“You get wrapped up in yourself, Bruce.”

Bruce cleared his throat, ready to deny this, but then Barbara sighed in a knowing way, cutting him off.

"I'm not here to argue about semantics," she said, looking at him behind her glasses. "Just consider that people, your children, everyone around you—we all have our own melodrama,” she said. “And we’re the main character in it. You’re the sidekick in this scenario.”

He stuck his tongue in the side of his cheek, blinking mulishly.

Barbara sighed.  “He’s not doing this to hurt you.”

“He put Bosch in the office,” Bruce protested.

A beat.

“He’s doing this to hurt you a little.”

Tim was sending a message, and it was personal. Besides all the office machinations and manipulations, he had taken to hiding out in Stephanie’s apartment, a place he knew Bruce wouldn’t visit. Not only that, but he went out of town for his birthday, decidedly not inviting the family or even letting Bruce know his plans.

Bruce didn’t know how to feel about that.

It wasn’t that either of them were especially attached to their birthdays, but ever since Tim had been adopted things had been—well. Different. Bruce had tried, put in more effort than he realized, in recognizing Tim’s birthday every year. He knew the boy’s parents hadn’t made it home more than not, and Tim had mentioned that through the years, a sure indication that it bothered him even if he didn’t admit to it. But Tim’s twentieth birthday had dawned bright and clear, and he had ensured that Bruce wouldn’t be part of it.

If Bruce was being honest, it hurt.

He had tried, damnit, and to have that effort thrown back in his face just because of a fight—Tim was supposed to be the good one. The understanding one, the easy one.

Bruce clenched his fists. Tim was supposed to be the reliable one.

“Maybe you should take that menu outside.”

Bruce looked at Selina. She quirked a brow at him.

“What, no come-ons? No sweet nothings about how good she looks?” She reached over and twisted the menu in Bruce’s hands, keen eyes surveying the width of the menu. She whistled. “I hear she also knows how to cook.”

Bruce didn’t smile, but it was a near thing. “I’m not ignoring you.”

Selina set her elbow on the table, leaning her head on her hand. “Oh?” She dragged a finger around his temple, long, scratching nail almost making him shiver. Almost. “You haven’t been paying attention to me either.” She pouted playfully, but her moue disappeared when Bruce only hummed. Her green eyes widened. “What’s wrong?”

Bruce hesitated. But before he could answer a waiter was directing a friendly-looking couple to their table. Selina sent him a look and stood up; time to meet the in-laws. Selina and her sister Maggie had discovered each other years ago after losing contact for more than twenty years due to foster care. Maggie had been shipped off to California and adopted. It was only after she had married Simon that Selina had brokered contact, and now his fiancé was deadset on including Maggie in the wedding details. Which meant meeting the groom. Which meant Bruce.

He sighed around his water goblet, taking a swallow and pasting a smile on his face when he shook Simon’s hand.

The situation with Tim could wait. Bruce had made it this far, he could hold it together for another hour.

“So then she said, ‘I sent my draft over’ and I was like ‘bullshit’ and then he went ‘I think we can all understand that folks have been busy’ and I was like ‘BULLSHIT’ and then she said ‘It’s not my fault that you spent all night working on it’ and she knows the grade is based on a group effort, it’s not individual, so I was about to go all Solange Knowles in the elevator, and THEN--"

Tim set his head against the wheel.

Stephanie tapped her fingers against his skull. “Honey? I know that my dramatic retelling of my summer class might be boring but you need to keep your head up to see the traffic light.” She tapped again. “Chop chop, eyes on the road.”

Tim obliged. “I’m losing it, Steph,” he murmured. “I’m losing it.”

“I’ll help you find it,” she assured him. “In the meantime we can share mine. Don’t crash my car. Now, where was I? Oh yeah, the elevator. So THEN—“

"It’s just,” he began, “he is up my ass—”

“Oh wow,” said Stephanie. “I have no idea what that feels like. I feel so sorry for you.”

Tim sent her an unimpressed look. She smiled beatifically at him. He reached over and pinched her thigh. Steph gave a shriek of laughter and drew her knees up to her chest. “Both hands on the wheel, Timothy Drake!”

He laughed and returned to the wheel, eyes scanning the road.

“But really,” she said, continuing their conversation. “He’s just in one of his Moods. You just have to ride it out.”

“Screw that,” Tim muttered.

“What is up with you two anyways? Normally you let him go crazy-anal and don’t get defensive about it at all.”

“Did you just call me a suck-up?”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Seriously, though. You’re obviously unhappy. What happened?”

“He just…he’s too much. And I’m sick of it. You know he was trying to get me to go to college?”

“Yeah, I only heard about it twenty times.”

“Well,” he flicked on the signal, “he basically threatened to fire me if I don’t do what he wants.”

“No! Wait, this is Bruce we’re talking about. Yes!”

“So I’ve basically been getting back at him at the office. And on patrol. And at home.”

“Is this why you’ve been sleeping at my place?”

He didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish. “Yes.”

“Okay, while I love that you’re using me as a tool to piss off your dad,” Steph took a sip from her water bottle, “what do I get from providing sanctuary?”

“I’m getting you a new car for your birthday,” Tim deadpanned.

“Volvo?”

“Lexus.”

She leaned over and smacked a resounding kiss on his cheek. “Mwah!”

He grinned.

“Has Bruce retaliated yet?”

“No,” he admitted, bitter and not sure of the reason why, “but then again I’ve tied his hands. I made Tam hold all my calls.”

Stephanie burst out laughing. “Oh Tim,” she gasped. “This is Mean Girls petty and I should say I’m disappointed in both of you but I’m also loving this?”

Tim gave a half-smile but didn’t respond. It had seemed fun, at first. Hitting Bruce where it hurt, like he had done to him. But after the third quasi-manic episode at the office (which had included balloons and Eiffel 65 blaring—he didn’t want to talk about it), it felt…empty. Like no matter what he did, Bruce was still going to think of him the same and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. There was no concept of a permanent sense of self, only a ‘Bruce sense of self.’ That didn’t mean he stopped the lying and manipulation; he just felt strange using Lucius for personal reasons. Like giving Bruce the finger.

Tim shifted in his seat, barely listening to Stephanie chatter. He thought about actual aggressive “negotiations” with the man. He visualized launching himself at Bruce and choking him out.  

Tim hummed, considerate. He took a left, merging onto the highway.

Not that he could really do anything. He’d just hang there, like a Tim-sized necktie.

But it’s the thought that counts.

“—And so then I’m stuck between two seats, my tongue almost touching the—hey!” Stephanie took her feet off the dashboard in surprise. “Why did you go on the 95? You know it always gets backed up.”

“Does it matter? Do you have to pee?”

“No, that’s not it.” Her eyes narrowed at the traffic. “We talked about ordering in tonight, and China Panda closes at eight.”

“I’m sure we’ll get home by—”

“You KNOW the 95 takes hours ever since they closed Doyle Pike, it takes—”

“Shit,” Tim swore. “For god’s sake Stephanie, you couldn’t have warned me?”

“I did!” she said shrilly. “I literally got into the car and the first thing I did was remind you about Doyle Pike and Mallowan Road and asked you if you had stopped off because I had less than half a tank of—”

The car gave a sputter.

Tim’s heart went cold.

“No.”

It jerked.

“Nonononono—”

It stopped.

This was hell.

Bruce examined the cutlery for the twenty-fourth time (he had counted). Silver, same as last time. It wasn’t as if he disliked his future in-laws. They were very nice people. Very…nice.

“And just think,” Maggie was saying, “after the wedding you could come visit us in California!”

“Yeah,” said Selina, face lighting up when she spotted their waiter across the room.

“And you could meet Linus!”

“Our son,” Simon explained, smiling at Bruce.

“Maybe you could even bring a friend for him,” said Maggie. She raised her eyebrows, alluding to something Selina knew about, for her sister smiled testily at her.

“Our waiter is coming,” she snapped, pushing the appetizer plates out of the way.

Maggie unrolled her napkin. “And Linus could even meet all the other kids! You have six, don’t you?”

If Bruce was surprised at being addressed, he didn’t show it. “I do.”

“You adopted, right?”

“I did.”

“I’m part of a blended family too!” she exclaimed. “I mean, besides Selina. I was adopted into a family, there were four of us until mom had Constance. I was seventeen, but I loved having a baby around, I think it really shaped me as an individual. What do you think about large age gaps between siblings?”

“Look, bread,” Selina announced. “Bruce, eat the bread.”

Bruce ate it.

Maggie moved on from her question, listing off her siblings’ names and dipping her bread with gusto, but Bruce considered it. Had his children’s ages and life experiences influenced the younger ones’ decisions? He knew that Damian was far more tactile due to Dick’s impact, and he likely would not be that way had he only been involved with Bruce. Perhaps that was what was going on with Tim. Perhaps there was some outside influence at work here, something (or someone, he thought to himself bitterly), that made Tim so stubborn. He knew the boy didn’t used to be this bad. He used to be able to wait him out. He remembered a specific scenario, giving Tim a look and Tim had immediately come clean, sniffling all the while.

Granted, he had been twelve at the time, but still.

There was something to this situation, an aspect Bruce hadn’t considered.

“What date for the wedding were you thinking?” asked Simon, stepping in when his wife paused for breath. “Have you set one yet?”

“Not yet,” Selina replied. “Look, food.”

Their waiter set down their entrees. Bruce unrolled his napkin amidst Maggie’s excited report on flexible venues.

“—And after a year or two the booking is still good!” she exclaimed. “So if anything comes up—”

“Nothing will. Bruce, steak.”

Bruce obligingly cut up his steak.

Although, perhaps an outside influence wasn’t the answer. Perhaps the answer was that Timothy felt that lies and manipulations were a viable tool of communication. Perhaps Timothy believed that respect was not warranted, not to his family, and not to Bruce. Bruce, you know, the man otherwise known as his father? Perhaps Timothy felt as though he should be able to do things with zero consequences. Perhaps Timothy thought that Bruce was stupid. Perhaps Timothy thought that it was funny that Bruce cared about him, that he wanted to see him succeed. Perhaps Timothy should be forced to cooperate, should answer his questions that he hadn’t bothered to ask because Timothy would feed him lies, all that boy did was lie, he woke in the morning and thought “How can I lie to Bruce today?” because lying about sleeping and his caffeine intake and his plans for school and where he was going to live and whose ring was in his closet—

“Bruce, chew.”

Bruce chewed angrily, snapping his jaws together.

“It is a lot,” Maggie was saying. At that point Selina had decimated all the breadsticks, wheat corpses mangled across the tablecloth. “I mean, I’m exhausted,” she admitted. “I’ll never sleep the same again, I swear it. But Linus is just so amazing. I can hardly believe that God gave me a baby, and that I get to have such a wonderful one. Especially after we struggled so much.”

Simon met his wife’s eyes, smiling reassuringly at her.

Selina paused. Her face gentled. She set her hand on her sister’s arm. “I have no doubt that you are a great mom, Maggie.”

Maggie bit her lip to cover up its tremble. “Thank you,” she whispered. She then cleared her throat and picked up her wine glass. “All in all, children are such a blessing,” she concluded.

Selina returned her hands to the table, face pinched again. She took a sip of her water.

Bruce twisted the napkin in his hands.

“I mean, what could be better than children?”

Sip.

Twist.

“I mean, they really are such a blessing!”

Sip.

Twist.

“Don’t you think, Selina?”

“Unf,” agreed Selina around a huge gulp of water. It spilled out of her mouth.

Twist.

“Plus, Simon and I are enjoying all these firsts of parenthood,” Maggie continued. “First time they roll over, first time they coo—”

Twist.

“First time they smile,” Simon added. They smiled at each.

Twist. Twist. Twist twist twist twist twist—

“And we’re so excited for what comes next!” Maggie squealed. “The first time they crawl, the first step, the first word—”

“The first time they set up an elaborate lie and tell you that they’re going to live with an imaginary uncle.”

The table went silent.

“PUSH!”

“I am pushing!” he bellowed.

Stephanie stuck her head out the window, eyes fixed upon him and definitely not on the road. “Push harder!”

Tim rolled his eyes. He planted his hands against the back of Steph’s 2003 Toyota Corolla and pushed. His heels lifted from the exertion, but he kept going. Sweat dripped and fell on the black tarmac. Cars inched forward behind him, growing more and more discontent.

Step by arduous step, they crawled up the highway.

Of course this would happen on the hottest day in Gotham City since 1999.

Of course today, of all days, this would happen. The climax of the truly spectacularly shitty summer. The summer a la Bruce, with special appearances by judgement and paternal harassment. Of course Tim would forget to fill the car up with gas. Of course. Of course! OF FUCKING COURSE.

“Do you want me to push?”

Tim leaned to his left, meeting her eyes.  “No. Keep your eyes on the road.”

“Are you sure?”

“Steph!” he shouted. “Keep your eyes on the goddamn road!”

“Okay fine!”

Her head disappeared inside. Tim hissed, hands slipping off the hot metal. “Shit,” he muttered, throwing his weight into the next push. The car behind him hovered, then quickly cut into the next lane. Horns immediately started blaring. “Let them in!” he shouted, in a rare show of traffic consideration. “We’re not going anywhere, let them in!”

Gotham’s heart must have grown three sizes since Tuesday, because, miraculously enough, the car in the next lane let them in. A line of cars merged over like a shiny caterpillar in the sun. Tim wiped his brow on his shoulder, arms straining with effort.

This was shit. Complete and utter shit. It wasn’t even funny in that cosmic, haha, look at this human fail, what does he know sort of way. It was shit. That’s all it was. There wasn’t a bright side or a “trial of soul” as Jason liked to say. It was just shit. His life was shit, his relationship with his dad was shit, his job was going down the tube, everything was shit.

Tim grit his teeth. The next lane’s goodwill had worn off, so cars were piling up behind him again. It really was a matter of time before he was run over, and at this point he would welcome it.

The driver door slammed open. He looked up.

“Switch!” Steph yelled, popping out of the car and racing around it, “Switch!”

Tim, without knowing he was doing it, dashed to the front seat. “This is a dumb idea!” he said. He adjusted the seat.

“Keep the windows rolled down!” was the reply. “Sometimes the wind picks up and you get a faint breeze!”

“Steph!”

The car suddenly heaved forward.

“What did you do?”

“I kicked it!”

“Don’t kick the car!”

“It’s my car!”

“I’m going to push again!”

“No!” Another heave. “It’s my turn! You rest!”

The car was moving faster than it was before. Tim tried not to let that rankle. Of course he would fail at pushing, he couldn’t do anything right nowadays. If he ever had. He groaned, slamming his head back against the headrest. It was bull self-pity, but at this point it was all he had. Bruce had basically already kicked him out of the family, and now was attempting to get him out of Gotham. Which, you know, pissed him off. Gotham was his home too, and he didn’t go around ordering people out of it. It was like Jason said, they all served the same mistress. Helluva lover, though. Tim brushed his knuckles over his jaw; he winced. Since fighting with Bruce he hadn’t bothered to check in, not even for patrol, which had resulted in no back up with some rather nasty bruises to show for it. Was it immature? Yes. Did Bruce absolutely deserve it? Yes. Tim couldn’t believe that he had had to hide at Stephanie’s apartment to escape him. He had been wearing the same business suits in rotation for a week, too scared to go back to his place and be immediately jumped and shipped off to Oxford. He imagined himself stuffed into a suitcase, strapped down to the luggage area of the batplane. Tim frowned.

And yet on the other hand, why was he fighting this at all? Bruce had made it clear, been explicit when he threatened to fire him, that he didn’t want Tim around anymore. Which, he’ll be honest, hurt his feelings. A lot. (He may have laid face-down on Steph’s couch and emitted dying squirrel noises at low moments, couldn’t be sure.) Why did Tim always do this? Why did he stick his nose into places where he was unwanted? Why did he slide into places with no room and insist he be allowed to stay?

This…wasn’t what he wanted. None of this was what he wanted. Maybe it was better he just take the hint and go. He wasn’t legally part of the family anyways, having been emancipated years ago. After Bruce got his way, there would be nothing holding him here.

“This sucks,” he whispered.

“HUH?”

“I said this SUCKS,” he shouted out the window.

“It’s all right!” she shouted back encouragingly. “It’s just like my eighth birthday! You get to live a day in the life, rich boy!”

Tim closed his eyes. Hot tears gathered around his eyelashes, but he didn’t let them fall.

Bruce always got his way. One way or another, Bruce always got his way. It was like the universe was curved to suit him and all the rest of the sorry bastards had to fight for the scraps. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. Nothing was ever fair, and that sucked.

Life sucked, Bruce sucked, Tim sucked.

“Tim!” shouted Steph. “Hon, you’re veering!”

Quick as a jolt, Tim opened his eyes and righted the wheels in the nick of time. Stephanie crowed in delight and the car heaved forward again from her kick.

Everything sucked.

But Stephanie didn’t.

Stephanie had been great about everything, like she always was. She hadn’t pushed him to explain and she made him coffee in the mornings, even gave him that stupid red mug that was made more for soup than coffee. She dealt with his stupid crap and mood swings and insisted that they go buy more suits for him because he was “starting to look like a business gigolo making ends meet” and had even made him laugh when he was being fitted because that’s what Steph did, she made everything brighter and happier and made the world not seem so bad.

Everything sucked, but Stephanie Brown didn’t.

“Switch!” he yelled suddenly, hopping out of the car, foot caught beneath the seat. He stumbled. “Switch!”

“No!” Stephanie yelled, but she was already halfway there.

“My turn!” Tim insisted, hair flopping in his eyes. He rounded the trunk, skidding into position. “Don’t worry, it’s my turn!”

Bruce always got what he wanted, but not this time. It was his turn. He pushed the car, ignoring the blisters on his heels.

Tim was staying.

“And they think you don’t know, they think you’re over the hills and simply believe them when they say they’re not doing what you know they’re doing. They think you’re an idiot that goes, ‘huh, they must be telling the truth because in this family we honor our word and respect each other enough to be honest.’ HAH!”

Maggie dropped her silverware.

“And you wonder, how long has this been going on? How long have you been going behind my back and doing EXACTLY what I told you not do!”

The couple at the next table looked over. Bruce didn’t notice.

“’Well, Dad, it’s been three weeks,” Bruce said, parroting a teenager’s voice. “And you haven’t confronted me so I’m going to assume that you’re alright with me lying to your face! Ha ha!’”

“This is really good,” Selina commented, taking another bite of her food.

“’Ha ha’?” Bruce repeated incredulously. “‘Ha ha’? How about I ground you for two months, that’s a ‘ha ha’ for me!”

“It’s got like this…” Selina quirked a brow in thought. “Lemony texture? It’s really fresh.”

“But you can’t do that, because while you were living your life, trying to ensure that everyone is doing alright because you can’t just let things go—”

“No kidding,” muttered someone behind them.

“Is that Bruce Wayne?” said another.

“—like others do! You know what happens when other people let things go?” He waved his hands. “Nothing! You know what happens when I let things go? Cataclysm!”

“What?” asked Maggie, puzzled. She leaned closer to Simon. He took her hand under the table.

“So while you were trying to prevent another cataclysm, they go off and grow up! So you can’t ground them, you just have to look them in the eyes while they smile and wreak havoc and tell you everything is fine.”

“So good. I’m definitely getting dessert.”

“And you just want to…” Bruce mimed closing his hands around a neck, “wring them by their skinny little neck and say ‘I know you’re LYING to me, you little SHIT!’”

The couple jerked.

“‘I know you’ve been lying to me,’” Bruce continued, caught up in his fantasy. “‘I know allllll your lies! But I pretended not to notice, because I wanted you to be comfortable! Well, fat lot of good that did!” He slammed his hands on the table. The glasses chinked. Selina chewed on her calamari. “’Because now, NOW? You’re screwing up your own life!’” He yanked the wine glass and downed the contents.

The room was silent. Simon cleared his throat while Maggie shifted in her seat. Selina waved their waiter over and asked for another entrée to go.

Bruce closed his eyes, letting the wine fill his senses as a reprieve. “But yeah,” he said after a moment, “Other than that. Kids are great.”

Was the I-95 made out of fucking lava? He could hardly feel his feet, they felt like they had been freezer-burned like old strawberries.

“Switch!” shouted Stephanie. Tim gratefully sprang forward and dashed into the front seat. He would feel bad, would feel like he was slacking, but he knew his turn would come again. He and Steph had managed the time required to catch a breath before switching. Tim had expected to do it all by himself but Stephanie hadn’t let him. And he was glad of it.

Steph was just…wonderful. In good times and in bad, Steph supported him. Even when he was being an idiot.

He was…glad to be taking this next step with her. Taking the plunge. After all, if not now, then when?

The feelings bunched up in his chest, shooting down his veins, so he stuck his head out the window. “Steph!” he shouted. He sat up further, tucking a knee on the seat. “STEPH! Steph, I love you!”

“Thank you!” she shouted back. “And here I thought you were only with me for my ass!”

Tim shook his head. “No listen,” he instructed, leaning out as far as possible, “I love you! I really, really do!”

The car stopped.

“Really?!”

“Yes!”

The car began moving again.

“I love you too!”

Tim grinned. “I think this is going to work!” he shouted again. “What we’re doing, I think it’s going to work this time!”

“Us or the car?” she shouted.

“BOTH!” he hollered. “SWITCH!”

Tim hopped out and Stephanie ran forward. Instead of going around the front, Tim circled back and almost smashed into her. They both laughed, breathless and exhausted.

“September,” she reminded him, shaking her hair off her face, halfway in the car.

“September,” he repeated, already making his way to the back.

They smiled.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.

A beat.

“Is this guy seriously honking?!”

“So when I said, ‘Let’s have lunch with my sister and her husband, tell ‘em about the engagement, really let them get to know you,’ you heard ‘have an absolute meltdown at the table; just fuck with them,’” Selina said, laughing. She swiped at her smeared lipstick and shut the sun visor mirror, leaning back and scrunching her hair in one hand. Bruce groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice muffled. “I really screwed that up, huh?”

“Nah.” She popped one of the complimentary mints in her mouth. “I told them you thought you were Christian Bale, today is your method acting day.”

He looked up. “You did not.”

“Nope.”

“Selina.”

She giggled, leaning over to massage his shoulders. “What’s the deal with you today? You’re so tense,” she complained, fingers digging at a muscle knot.

He sighed, but not in pleasure. Selina frowned. She pinched him.

“Ow,” he said dully, yet didn’t bother to push her away. She sat back anyway.

Selina huffed. “Really, what’s going on?” she asked, crossing her arms. Bruce didn’t respond. “Don’t make me pinch you again,” she threatened, holding her fingers like pincers.

Her fiancé turned on the car, grumbling, “What do you think is going on? I just told every staff member of Vivace about my problems, not to mention my new family members.”

“Tim? Still?”

He frowned at her incredulity. “Yes, Tim, still,” he said, taking a sharp turn into traffic. A horn blared behind them.

“Aw, baby.”

“He’s just,” Bruce sighed. “I can’t…”

“I know,” she murmured. “Have you tried talking to him?”

He frowned.

“Bruce?”

No response.

“Bruce.”

“He won’t answer any of my calls,” he admitted irritably. That fact stuck like a thorn. Worse than a thorn. More like a two-by-four. And he had been hit by them before, he knew what it felt like. “He told me to stay away from him.”

“Did you?”

He didn’t reply.

Tim didn’t want to be around him. Every instance of Tim’s new life, every personal decision, from age seventeen onward, had created distance. At this point, Bruce would believe that it was purposeful. But just what had he done so wrong? What had made Tim wake up one day and decide to schedule Bruce out from Monday to eternity?  

Had Bruce failed? Worse yet, had Tim realized that and moved on?

Bruce wasn’t a proponent on fairness, but he did believe in justice. And justice was fair. And that meant that Bruce would get another chance, would get to see his son succeed and not be stuck choosing something he thought was right, something he had trained for. Something he thought was meant for, something that had made sense at a young age but wisdom and experience and death had tempered. Something that broke him, warped him, made him unable to recognize himself through the bruises. Something that was a lifelong mission and that sounded so grand at twenty-two, but at thirty-two it stings and at forty-two it aches. Something that made him less than what he was, what he should have been, if he only had just…taken a moment.

“Are you sure it’s the ring you’re worried about?”

Bruce blinked. “Pardon?”

“Is it marriage that concerns you?” Selina asked, peering at him with keen green eyes. She then smirked. “Should I be worried about that?”

“I just…don’t want him to do something he’ll regret,” he said, throat tight. Tim was still young. Too young. Tim was his, and Bruce had barely had him. To lose him to marriage, to adulthood? After everything? He didn’t think he could bear it.

“Well, look on the bright side,” Selina teased. “You haven’t heard from him. He could already be married. Then you have nothing more to worry about.”

Something caught his eye.

Tim’s location blinked on his phone. Bruce looked at it. He twisted the wheel.

“I’m going to confront him.”

“Okay, babe. I support you. Now, can you drop me off first before you—”

Bruce drove past her apartment.

“–okay.”

“Merge onto I-95,” instructed the GPS. Bruce flicked on his turn signal.

“You do realize I was just kidding about them eloping, right?”

Bruce didn’t reply.

Selina sighed, slipping on her sunglasses

“Here we go…”

[kawaiibobatea-blog]

Chapter 06: Faith

It had only been a couple minutes since Grillby and Sans had entered the smoking house making sure to leave the door open to start airing it out. Grillby went into the kitchen, seeing through the thick smokescreen like it wasn’t even there. All the while, Sans was internally cringing at the loud beeping emitting through the empty home by the smoke alarm. It was reminding him to uninstall it for when this happened again. The sound continued to grate on his nonexistent nerves even while Grillby grabbed a trash bag and held it open awaiting charred items. One after another, items that had once been a part of their daily life were tossed behind him and landed with a clank inside of the trash bag. Sans was just about to throw a blackened baking pan behind him but was stopped by the warm voice.

“Full.”

“… right.”

Sans glanced out of the corner of his sockets, Grillby was tying the drawstring in multiple knots. Bulges from multiple pans and pots poked the polyethylene of the bag begging for a release from their constraints. He had just been tossing everything that had been blackened, charred, or even had a smoke smell-he had been through this situation enough to know that the smell was daunting to get out, if it ever came out-that he hadn’t realized how much he was truly getting rid of. When Grillby opened another garbage bag behind him, he looked at the counters. All black. Some renovations were going to have to be made. Almost everything in the whole kitchen was black and smelled of smoke. This was probably the worst that this has ever been.

“It’ll be fine.” Grillby tried to assure, but his friend’s crackling voice did nothing to sate his worry or his slight depression. He knew that his brother didn’t mean any harm and he wasn’t truly mad at his brother, he never could be. It was still depressing though to watch his best friend leave with almost all his and Paps’ kitchen items to throw them away.

A couple hours had passed and Grillby and Sans had almost successfully cleared every piece of charred belongings from the home. The trashcans outside were miserably full leaving the living room and kitchen a little barren. Sans could already hear his favorite pen scratching against job applications to raise some money to refill their home. He took a deep breath and closed his sockets-trying to drown out that agonizing beep. Priorities. Getting all of this out was priority-and tossed another baking sheet into the trash bag Grillby was holding open. All the bowls that had been in the living room had to be thrown away which meant he would owe his friends some money or replacements. The smoke from the fire had billowed out and into the air. Sans knelt and opened the small drawer at the bottom of the oven leading to more storage space for their pans along with the many metal utensils that Papyrus liked to keep there much to Sans’ chagrin. He had hoped that these had escaped the smoke and fire’s dangerous heat, but no such luck.

“troublesome fire…” Sans muttered and heard an aggravated crackle from behind him. “excluding present company, of course.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Sans wasn’t afraid of much in life, but Grillbs was one thing that terrified him. It wasn’t that his LV was high, neither was his EXP… but Grillby had something even more terrifying at his disposal; he could tell him-and be serious-about making him pay back his tab. He wouldn’t be able to pay it back even if he worked the rest of his long, long monster life. He would also have a hard time getting a decent paying job since some places were still discriminating against monsters working for them.

“heh, sorry grillbs.”

By the time they got back to the front of the house, the smoke had completely cleared. It was nice to see his house again. Sans was just about to speak when the fire alarm gave another beep, like it was desperate for attention. With a gold flash in his eye and a quick ball of blue fire, the fire alarm had given its last shriek of warning with a large explosion. Out of the corner of his socket, he saw Jason flinch backwards so hard he almost fell. If she hadn’t been there to grab his arm, he might have. Shockingly enough, Fall didn’t even seem phased at him using such intense magic without warning. Many humans still wanted at least a few seconds warning before using any level of magic. Then again, there was just something about Jason that didn’t set right with him. It wasn’t because he was her boyfriend either. Just with the way he side-longed some glances at the monsters, and at Fall. He found himself not liking it. Of course, Grillby had told him before that he had been wrong with people… which was true.

“BROTHER, I AM SORRY FOR RUINING OUR PARTY… MAYBE I’M NOT THE GREAT PAPYRUS AFTER ALL…” If Sans had any blood in his body, it would’ve turned cold. There wasn’t much going on in Sans’ life, however, his docile life with his brother was the thing he cherished the most. Papyrus was always smiling and fun-loving. He was able to make everyone happy without even trying with his cheerful voice and oblivious nature. It was soul breaking to see Papyrus’ shoulders slump in defeat and his smile fade.

“c’mon paps, you know that’s not true.” Sans said and shrugged his shoulders. He trudged over to his younger brother, smirking when he met socket contact with his only family. “things happen, hell, you know that i’ve done some stupid things before. we all have off days, today just happened to be yours.” Seconds felt like hours when Papyrus didn’t answer him right away. What felt like an eternity later, he lifted his head up and the smile had returned with full force,

“YOU’RE RIGHT SANS! TODAY WAS JUST AN “OFF DAY”!” Papyrus complimented and put his hands on his hips and watched as Sans nodded, taking out his comb and running it across his skull absentmindedly before returning it to his shorts pocket. “WELL, NOW THAT OUR HOSUE IS UNABLE TO BE USED FOR THE PARTY, WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO NOW?”

Sans glanced over at the group of people that were with them; the monsters didn’t seem too bothered with the cold. Fall however, even though she was trying to hide it, was shivering. How could he forget to at least let her inside? After all, she wasn’t really dressed well for this occasion. “c’mon, let’s head back inside. it must be cold out here for you.”

“N-No, I’m alright. Don’t worry…” Fall said, her cheeks red. Sans wondered offhandedly if it was from the cold or a blush at being found out that she had been lying. He settled with both.

“hm, too late kid.” Sans muttered under his breath and walked in with the rest of his friends, having Undyne close the door behind the group and ignoring the sigh that came from a tad bit behind him. With a glance at the clock, he noted that it was too early to call it a night, and Paps would be upset if he pooped out. It was only around nine thirty, but he was so exhausted.

“My bar is closed, but if desired, I can open it up and continue the party there.” Grillby adjusted his glasses, the fire crackling as he did so.

“OH DARLING! THAT’S PERFECT!” Mettaton gushed, clasping his hands together.

“YES! IT IS A VERY GOOD IDEA.” Papyrus agreed, his smile even brighter than it had been earlier.

Sans glanced out of the corner of his eye, seeing Fall fiddling with a stray thread on his jacket that she was still wearing. He had been so focused on restoring the house to the best of his abilities he had forgotten. He raised a brow bone and continued to watch her, digging her toe into the carpet. The monsters were chattering among themselves, setting the plan in stone that the party would continue at Grillby’s. “go on ahead, i’ll meet you there.” Sans said and scratched the back of his cranium.

“WE SHALL WAIT IN ANTICIPATION FOR YOUR ARRIVAL!” Papyrus complimented and ran out with some of their friends, the others following close behind.

When Fall glanced at the door and started to head out, he grabbed her wrist. She went rigid and he couldn’t help but think that she was worried about hanging out with a bunch of monsters. Many humans had been like that, even all these years later: they’d pretend they were okay with monsters and want to co-exist with them, but when one touched them or got too close they would revert to their discriminatory ways. Aggravated that he was letting it get to him, he let her wrist go with no words.

“Um…” Fall began, still looking down at the floor. “It’s a walk to Grillby’s and… I don’t have any… pants on…” A tomato red blush covered her face, reaching to the tips of her ears. A small blue blush of his own dusted his cheeks and he scratched at the back of his ivory dome again.

how could i forget that?

Clearing his throat, he glanced at the stairs, “hey, fall, follow me.” He said, seeing her not even hesitate in following him. How could he have been so rude in thinking that Fall was like those other humans he had encountered? He would have to apologize to her later and take whatever punishment she would deem adequate to group her in with those discriminatory humans. Hell, maybe he was a bit of the same way as those humans. He didn’t like that thought though. Thankfully, his door had been closed so his room remained untouched by the smoky smell of the fire. Among the mess in his room, her costume still laid perfectly neat on his sheet-less bed. “hey, kid, putting that back on isn’t going to help you with the cold.”

“Well that’s true,” She agreed holding the costume in her hand with her other on the zipper of his jacket. “Either way, it’s not like I can just keep these clothes.”

Sans was too busy sifting through his messy closet to answer her, not that there was anything to say. He may be lazy and somewhat nihilistic, but even he wasn’t soulless enough to let her make the trip to Grillby’s in just a T-shirt and a jacket. If they teleported, it would knock out all of the walking, but at the same time being at the party in a bar may be a little awkward for her. A smile came to his face when he held up the piece of fabric he was looking for,

“Basket ball shorts?” Fall asked.

“yeah, put these on. i don’t really have much variety in the clothes department, but, something is better than nothing right kid?”

This time, it was her turn to not respond. She held the shorts in her hands, the blush still on her face. How in the world did she have enough gumption to give him her phone number when she was standing here blushing at everything he did or said? Maybe he would ask her about that later, if he remembered. “i’ll wait outside.” He left and closed the door behind him. She hadn’t been phased seeing him decimate his smoke alarm with magic, but randomly teleporting may have been too much for the already frazzled girl. A few moments later, she came out with the shorts on and the drawstring tightened to make sure that they stayed on her hips. She had taken off the jacket and held it out to him, which he declined. “monsters aren’t as prone to the elements as you humans are.” He informed. “so keep it, i’ll get it back from you later.” Shoving his hands in his own shorts, he smirked when she was donned in his jacket again. “y’know, i wondered a lot of the time what i would look like as a girl, but with you dressed like that, i can get a pretty good idea.”

“H-Hey!” Fall said and zipped up the jacket.

“it’s a compliment kid.”

With Fall in tow, he walked towards the door and had a phalange over the light switch. “did you want to walk, or we could-“

“Do that teleport thing you do?”

“y-yeah… how-“

“Well, you’ve been coming to my store for a few years, sometimes you would use your magic outside of the store to get back home quicker.” Fall admitted, playing with the same thread she had been previously. “I don’t mind going that way… as long as it’s not too hard on you.”

“alright.” Sans went over and touched the small of her back. “i need close contact to bring you with.” In truth, he didn’t know how close one needed to be. She was the first person he had tried it with other than... He knew it would work, there was no questions about that. He just wanted to make sure that it would be okay for her to be this close to him. When she didn’t protest, he took a step forward and brought them both in the void between this part of the world and the next. They came out right in front of Grillby’s. Fall staggered a bit and grabbed onto the sleeve of his shirt for stabilization.

“S-Sorry…” She stammered but gripped on tighter.

“no need to be sorry, kid. the first person i took with me puked when we-for lack of a better word-landed.” “O-Oh…” Fall blinked, and her grip loosened on his shirt enough to where she could stand up on her own. “Maybe it’s something humans have to get used to.”

“hm, maybe.” Sans guided her into the bar by the small of her back.

By the time they got in the bar, everything and everyone was in full force. Grillby was behind the counter serving drinks and food to his friends, continuously shining his favorite glass. Out of the corner of his socket, he saw Papyrus and Undyne sitting in a booth with Alphys. Jason and…the girl… were sitting at the bar awaiting some food. Muffet was helping to serve the food that all the friends were ordering while Mettaton was providing entertainment in the form of singing and dancing while Napstablook was playing music for them. Everyone seemed to be having a good time.

“SANS! YOU MADE IT!” Papyrus exclaimed when he noticed the party of two that had come into the bar. He hopped up out of his seat, onto the table and jumped to the floor in front of them. All the while Sans had his hands in his pockets. It was perfectly normal to watch his brother climb onto things he wasn’t supposed to. “WE WERE BEGINNING TO WONDER WHERE YOU WERE. OH! SMALL HUMAN! YOU’RE WEARING SANS’ CLOTHES.”

“she didn’t have any, so i let her borrow some of mine.”

“SHE LOOKS LIKE THE HUMAN GIRL VERSION OF YOU!” Papyrus said and smiled brightly at Fall who had been taken aback by his very robust compliment. “IT LOOKS VERY GOOD ON YOU!”

“T-Thank you Papyrus.”

“OF COURSE, SMALL HUMAN! ANY FRIEND OF SANS’ IS A FRIEND OF MINE! NOW IF YOU’LL EXCUSE ME, I’M TRYING TO SOLVE THIS WEEKS PUZZLE IN THE PAPER ALPHYS BROUGHT.” With another hop onto his table, he sat back down on his side of the booth, intently training his sockets on the words in front of him. Sans shrugged his shoulders and went to the bar, taking a seat and helping her onto his.

“What puzzle is he trying to solve?”

“the horoscope.”

“The…”

“yep.” Sans looked at Fall with his ever-present smile. “grillbs, can i get a burger for the lady here and an order of fries for me?”

Without a word, Grillby headed towards the back to cook their orders after setting a bottle of ketchup down in front of him. It wouldn’t take too long, after all, a flame elemental monster could control the fire in his kitchen better than any human stove or oven could. That’s part of the reason why he liked coming to Grillby’s, other than to spend time with his best friend. The food was always cooked exactly how you liked it, even if you didn’t tell him. Sans was focused on the sounds around him, sipping on the ketchup Grillby had left him. The smell of the food was wafting from the kitchen via the small gap at the bottom of the door. No doubt, the food would be done soon. He could already taste the food that would be sat in front of him. The fries would be worth the headache of throwing away a lot of the kitchen appliances.

“Um… Sans?”

“hm?” He swallowed the ketchup that was in his mouth and turned the barstool, hearing the all too familiar creak.

“How did you know to order me a burger?”

“when we were at my house, i saw you eyeing it with everything you are.” He couldn’t help but chuckle when Fall blushed a deep red. “no need to be so embarrassed about it. grillbs food is the best.” As if on cue, Grillby came out and sat the plates down in front of them, putting another bottle of ketchup on the counter. “aw, and i didn’t even have to ask.”

“Not for you.” Grillby said and pointed a thumb at Fall’s burger.

“fine. you win.” Sans held up his hands in defeat.

“Can I get you anything else, Miss?” Grillby politely asked.

always a charmer.

“Um, can I have a bit of alcohol?” Fall was meek about it. Why? This was a bar, order all the alcohol you want. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Of course, it isn’t too much trouble.” Grillby assured. “What would you like?”

“Um… I-I’m not too good with names. So just whatever you think would be good.”

“As you wish.”

Sans watched Grillby work at lightning speed, popping a fry into his mouth every now and again. It was nice to hear everyone laughing when just a few minutes ago it was full of sadness at almost catching their home on fire. He was worried that it was going to ruin their night, but of course, he should’ve known better. When it comes to Papyrus, no one can stay sad around him, so he ends up making everyone have a good time. The drink that he sat down in front of Fall was bright, colorful, and smelled nice. Her eyes widened, and she picked up the glass and looked at it.

“Wow! It’s so pretty…”

“well kid,” Sans saw motion out of the corner of his socket near the other end of the bar. “alcohol isn’t meant to just look pretty. taste it.”

“Right. Right.” She took a small sip from the straw that he had placed in the blue-green color show in a cup. “Ooh! Wow… This is really good.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

The more time that passed, the more Fall drank. The more that Fall drank, the more she would talk. The more that she would talk, the more she would get embarrassed; wash, rinse, and repeat until she was now the staggering mess next to him. She was on her third burger and fifth order of fries. She could really pack away some food. He was glad that she was eating that much bread and stuff that way she wouldn’t get sick. He had learned from her that it was a common thing for humans to do; surprisingly, it was recommended. It had been strange to him when they first arrived on the surface, but now it seemed obvious and normal. Papyrus was slamming his hand down on the table, excited that he had solved another puzzle in the Junior Jumble book that Sans had bought for him.

“Well, Frisk, are you ready to go?” Sans heard Jason from the other side of the bar.

“Yeah, it’s getting late and I’m pretty tired.”

Sans didn’t really care where they went or what they did and continued watching Grillby and a drunk Fall continue their very weird conversation on how Grillby could touch things without getting burnt. Now her inquisitiveness had went to his clothes. However, one thing that sent his attention the humans’ way was what Jason had whispered to her.

“Next time, can you not invite me to parties like these? It gets really uncomfortable with all these monsters around.”

“Jason, stop that.” She had whispered back. Sans wasn’t really too shook about it, considering there were so many humans that still weren’t accepting and from the way that he had been acting through the night, it wasn’t a shock. What came next though…

“What? You can’t tell me it’s not weird. Especially that tall skeleton. Why does everyone try to kiss up to him? They’re all making it sound like he can cook and he’s talented but he’s not. He’s weird and a terrible cook. I mean he almost burned his own house down.”

The pinpricks for pupils that he had disappeared leaving nothing but black sockets devoid of any positive emotion. No one around, but Grillby seemed to notice. He didn’t ask but gave Sans a curious glance that did not get a anything in return.

“No, Paps can’t cook, but he makes up for it with spirit and determination. He doesn’t let anything falter his spirit and he’s a good skeleton.” She commented, defending Paps. It wasn’t like Sans didn’t expect her to defend Papyrus, but that she continued to walk out with Jason washed away her defense like it hadn’t even happened.

“Whatever, it sounds to me like he’s just pathetic.”

Sans squeezed the ketchup bottle, listening to the air escape the nozzle at the top. Just as the jingle of the bell sounded through the store signifying their leave, Sans teleported outside and stood in front of them earning an alarmed sound from Jason and a confused one from her. His eyes held no emotion but loathing and anger.

“S-Sans?” The girl commented, seeing the expression on his face.

“stay out of this.” Sans ordered, his tone deepening a little bit. “this is between me and him.”

“What? You and me don’t have any business.”

“Sans… You-“

“quiet.” Sans commanded, and she listened. “you have a problem with my brother, huh?”

“…”

“i’m waiting.”

“W-Well n- ah!” Jason yelled when Sans threw a bone in his direction scraping against the side of his face. “What are you doing?”

“Sans, stop!”

“monsters are pathetic huh?” Sans questioned, shooting a smaller bone his way, not intending to hit him. “papyrus has more heart than some of you humans ever will.” Papyrus was his weak spot. All their friends knew it, when something was said or done against his brother, all thoughts or morals went out the window. With a snap of his finger, he was surrounded by four Gaster Blasters, all pointing towards Jason. A tug on his sleeve, prevented another attack.

“I said ‘stop’!” Sans’ sharp glare looked down at his sleeve and saw his old friend attached to it for dear life.

“defending someone like him, huh? heh, figured as much. all you humans stick together.” His words were filled with venom as he flung his arm, sending the girl a few feet away from him on her butt. His attention turned from the girl back to the cowering Jason. His smile turned more into a smirk and he snapped his phalanges, making the blasters disappear. “be thankful you have that girl with you.”

“W-What? Why? What does Frisk have to do with this?” Jason asked, falling to his knees his legs being unable to keep him standing anymore. He screamed out when he was pulled towards Sans, nose to nose hole.

“’cause buddy, without her,” Sans chuckled humorlessly, his sockets searing holes into Jason’s eyes. Their gaze was so intense it felt like time had stopped. “Y o u ‘ d  b e  d e a d  w h e r e  y o u  s t a n d.” With a flick of his wrist, Jason was sent further away, and a pained grunt escaped his lips upon impact. He knew that he didn’t break the human’s bones, he would’ve been able to tell. He sure was going to have one hell of a bruise there, that was for sure. He shoved his hands back in his pockets, having his back turned to the scene he had created between him and the two humans. He heard the girl get up and head towards where her boyfriend lay, “. . . don’t let me catch either of you around my brother again.”

The girl sounded like she was about to cry with her small, pitiful voice. “B-But, Sans… I-“ He turned and looked at the girl, his sockets still black with anger.

“E i t h e r  o f  y o u.” His tone of finality shut her up in just a split second. He left both humans outside. He couldn’t believe it. She had defended him… Jason… the one who had insulted his brother. Humans really stuck together, even in these times. That must’ve been the reason that she wanted to leave the Underground. She just wanted to go back to the humans… They had been friends for years… At least he thought so. He wanted to believe it, but maybe it would be better if they hadn’t been… then it wouldn’t hurt this bad. Even if she didn’t explicitly agree with Jason, she wanted him to not hurt Jason. Why? He could only imagine how that would’ve hurt Papyrus if he had really heard it. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. He had lost all faith in Jason (not that he had much to begin with), he lost hope in humans, he lost faith in Frisk.