#said anything about himself aside from claiming that he’s better than jason ever was? how would this even happen

[aalghul]

Really interesting how Jason practices a sort of equal exchange with verbal fights. He’s not going to do more than taunt his opponent superficially if they can’t reach him (emotionally) deeper than surface level. If his words are truly scathing and hurtful, he’s baring his own soul and giving the same vulnerability to his opponent (whether it was demanded of him or not).

Most of UTRH is the former, and then he takes both his and Bruce’s masks and forces an emotional confrontation during which he cries. Jason puts Bruce in a terrible position but he’s laid his own heart at Bruce’s feet while doing so. He spends much of Brothers in Blood childishly taunting Dick and receiving hostility for it; then Dick helped him when Jason was truly worried he wouldn’t, so Jason leaves Dick with a note admitting how much he values him. Nightwing would’ve saved anyone, but Jason still saw it as being worth honesty from him.

[shes-ghostface]

Hello again, some time ago I asked what it would be like if Brahms, Jason and Harry Wander were in Dead by Daylight with their beloved s/o... And I would like to ask for a continuation if it is not too complicated for you to do of course!

Like, what would be the reaction of the killers and survivors of your choice when discovering the "secret" relationship between the boys and their s/o? Will anyone want to interfere in the relationship?

{ For example: flirting with s/o to provoke the boys, or trying to save her from this relationship thinking that they are being forced to stay with them... }

Brahms Heelshire

A lot of the survivors weren’t particularly bothered by discovering your relationship with Brahms, but Élodie was concerned for your welfare. She always checked you over when you came back to the survivors campfire after spending time with him, she would constantly ask if he had hurt you or made you do things you didn’t want to. To which you always told her the relationship between you and Brahms was dual sided, you both wanted it as much as the other and he never forced you to do anything, other than when he got bratty and held you tightly against him if you tried to move when he wasn’t done snuggling with you. But no matter how many times you tried to reassure Elodie, she just wouldn’t let it go. All of her prying and concerns came to a stop once you were in a trial with her and Brahms though.

You were working on the generator inside the killer shack, unaware Brahms was hastily approaching. “Come here.” Was all you heard, his voice vibrating through your whole body, causing you to shudder. You looked over your shoulder to see Brahms standing in the doorway, he stepped closer to you as you got up from the generator, taking your hands in his. You were too engrossed in Brahms sweet talking about your outfit to notice Elodie watching through the shack window, “Oh, seems we have company.” Brahms stated with a tone of annoyance. You turned to see Elodie, she seemed nervous. She had her hands in front of her, clasped together, slightly shaking. “She’s okay, she just likes to check up on me is all. She’s a good friend.” You told Brahms, hoping to sway his attention from Elodie. His gaze didn’t move off of her, “So she’s the one who has been asking all the questions?” He seethed. You knew this tone and you knew it wasn’t good. All Brahms could think about was how much time you spent with Elodie when you weren’t with him, and Brahms didn’t like that. He wants you all to himself, you’re his and she needs to realise he’s not going anywhere and she will NOT take you from him. His breathing became heavy and his shoulders tensed up, you went to put your hand to his chest but before you could calm him down he lunged towards Elodie, charging around the corner of the shack, you attempted to follow closely but he was too fast. She didn’t have a chance to get away, he lunged his right arm towards her, grabbing her by the throat, lifting her up with ease. “She’s mine. You and no one or nothing else is going to change that.” He bellowed, causing you to stop in your tracks, it was the loudest you had ever heard Brahms speak. Elodie tried to respond, but Brahms had his grip so tightly around her throat all you could hear was her voice fading with each attempt at a word. “Brahms she’s got the message! Put her down, please!” You begged him, he looked at you, still holding Elodie up by her throat. He didn’t like to see you upset, but when Brahms wants something he gets it, and he wanted her to understand you are his. All you heard was a loud snap, Elodie’s life faded from her eyes as her head slumped to the side. He had broken her neck, he stared for a moment and let out a light chuckle, throwing her body to the ground. He turned towards you, “She had to learn to mind her business.” He stated as he neared you. You knew what Brahms was like but that didn’t mean every time you seen him kill someone it didn’t shock you. All you could do was look up at him, you were speechless. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into him, “Mine.” He whispered into your ear, you couldn’t help but melt into him. Every time he does this you lose yourself in him, his scent, his touch, everything about him overtakes your mind.

The exit gates powered up, bringing you back to reality. You sighed, slowly leaving his arms. “Time to go, I’ll come see you once I’m done at the survivor campfire okay?” You told him, to which he nodded and walked away. As you made your way out, Brahms was getting himself irritated again. He knew you would be speaking to Elodie and he hated knowing your attention was on someone else aside from him.

Back at the campfire you seen Elodie already sat down on one of the wooden logs, she had her back to you and was talking to Zarina. As you neared the two, Zarina looked over Elodie’s shoulder and gave you a concerned look. She patted Elodie on the shoulder and left, causing Elodie to turn and see you approaching. “Elodie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he would get as angry as he did, I know you’re only trying to take care of me and make sure I’m okay. Brahms doesn’t understand that, he gets jealous easy. You’re such a good friend and I don’t want to lose you.” You said as you lowered yourself onto the log to sit with her. She just looked at you and did a small laugh, “Don’t be silly, I don’t blame you. I know what the killers are like here, we need to stick together. If we don’t have each other in here we have nothing.” She said with a smile. You couldn’t contain your grin, you were relieved your friendship with her wasn’t damaged. You both gave each other a tight hug, but behind one of the trees in the shadows, Brahms was watching. His fists clenched, he got the message. She hadn’t learned her lesson.

Jason Voorhees

You and Jason had been dating for a while now, a lot of the other survivors respected it and didn’t bother you too much about it. They just asked how you both were doing now and again to make sure you were okay. The only two that didn’t respect it though, were David and Nea. They both had a crush on you for a while, even before you started dating Jason they would both flirt with you and you would do harmless flirting back. You stopped once you and Jason were a thing though, out of respect for Jason and of course for David and Nea’s safety. That didn’t stop them from flirting with you, though. They would often compete against each other on who got your attention the most and who helped you more in trials, it was harmless really, but once they found out about you and Jason, both of their jealousy set in. Nea kept trying to persuade you to leave him and tell you he wasn’t safe to be around, and David would always brag about how much better he could treat you and how he would take care of you. You paid no mind to it because you were smitten with Jason, he was the sweetest guy. So big and strong, but so gentle and delicate with you.

It didn’t take long for Jason to notice the two of them trying to get close to you and get your attention in trials. It bothered him a lot, he could feel the anger bubbling inside him every time he seen one of their hands touch you or hear one of their flirty remarks. You always reassured him that they’re just friends and nothing more, he is really insecure after all. He hasn’t had many positive relationships in his life, just you and his mother. So he worries you will leave him for one of the two, the reassuring worked for a while, but one trial was the last straw for Jason. He couldn’t hold the anger any longer.

The trial was on Macmillan Estate, you were teamed with Nea, Meg and David. You were on top of one of the muddy, stone mounds trying to scope out anyone nearby. You only seen Nea in the distance, urban evading. The killer must be near her, you weren’t aware of who it was yet. You hoped it was Jason of course, he always let’s you live. A large, rough hand placed itself on your shoulder, causing you to turn abruptly. It was David, “Alright love? Gave you a bit of a startle did I?” He jested, smirking down at you. “Yeah, you got me.” You replied with a smile, you both headed through the dense fog towards the generator outside of the mine. You hadn’t seen the killer yet but Meg had just been hooked on the opposite end of the estate you and David were. As you both knelt down to start on the generator, you turned to David and asked “Have you seen who the killer is yet?” To which he shook his head, “No, and hopefully I don’t see them anytime soon.” He replied. You let out a slight chuckle, watching the sparks illuminate David’s face. He was attractive of course, big and strong. Very masculine features, if you hadn’t met Jason then maybe you would have ended up with David. But to you, no one and nothing compared to Jason.

The generator was 75% completed, you didn’t even hear Nea approach due to the ear rattling pistons rapidly moving up and down. “Hey doll face.” Nea said as she got on the leftover space of the generator. You looked at her, “Hey Nea, who is th-“ David interrupted abruptly, “Think you’ll find she’s my doll mate. Not yours, so sod off yeah?” He teased. “I think you should ask her that, because I don’t see no evidence of her being yours at all.” Nea snarled back at him. They both looked at you, awaiting a response. To which you shook your head and laughed, “Let’s just get the generator done, we can have petty arguments later.” They stared at you for a moment, then back at each other with a glare that could kill. The whole time the two were arguing over you, Jason was watching through one of the mines windows. He heard everything and he felt his anger boiling over with each word they spoke. How dare either of them attempt to claim you as theirs, you are his. No one else’s.

The generator soon roared to life, you were all still unaware Jason was watching, so you headed towards the next generator. Nea and David managed to walk either side of you, sandwiching you between them. David put his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer into him. “We make an alright team me and you, don’t need the rest of these muppets.” He said with a smirk, looking down at you eagerly awaiting your response. Nea butted in before you could respond, grabbing your wrist, lightly tugging you towards her. “David, you wouldn’t even survive half the trials if it wasn’t for the rest of us you idiot, and she knows this. Don’t you doll?” You were so tired of them having petty arguments over nothing, you let out a sigh. “You know, you two are such idio-“ before you could finish your sentence, you felt Nea’s hand leave your wrist and David’s arm leave your shoulders. They were dragged back, you span around to find out what the hell was going on. You couldn’t believe what you saw, it was Jason. He had them both held up, one in each hand. He threw Nea to the floor, you heard a crack, followed by Nea’s scream. She grabbed her leg frantically, you could see her shin bone trying to rip through the flesh as it broke in two. You ran to her side to try calm her down but David’s aggressive words got your attention instead, “PUT ME DOWN YOU FUCKIN ARSEHOLE!” Jason wasn’t phased by his words, his grip only got stronger. It was crazy to see how Jason could keep a hold of possibly the strongest survivor in the realm with such ease with just one hand, all whilst he was struggling to get out of his grasp. David was a big guy but compared to Jason he looked just like the average person. It put into perspective just how big Jason was.

David’s insults soon came to an end, Jason had threw him to the ground, the sound of his boot colliding with David’s skull was stomach churning. You couldn’t help but watch in horror, David’s head disappeared into the soil due to Jason’s brute force. Nea was still on the ground riving around in agony, trying to ease the pain of her broken leg. You turned to face her, as did Jason. You went to run to her side but Jason got to her first, he towered over her broken form, breathing heavily due to using such force on David’s skull. His arm swung, impaling her chest with his machete. The life drained from her eyes as Jason pulled his weapon from her flesh, he turned to you. You didn’t even have the words, you knew Jason didn’t like the two of them due to their flirting, but this? You never thought he would go this far. You sometimes forgot he was a ruthless killer because of how gentle he is with you. He made his way over to you, stopping inches in front of your form. He was looking down at you, eager for your eyes to meet his. He wanted to know you were okay, he hated you seeing anything like that. It was bad enough thinking about you in trials with the other killers having to experience such horror. It was worse that he himself had done it all in front of you, he wanted to savour your innocence as much as he could in this realm. He placed his large, cold hand lightly on your shoulder. You looked up at him, he stared for a moment without doing anything, until his hand reached up to tap his mask. You knew he only did that when he wanted kisses, and he knew if you kissed him all was forgiven. You could never resist Jason, he was a sweetheart, so of course you planted kisses all over his mask. He wrapped his arms around your waist and yanked you up into a suffocating hug, Jason never spoke but his actions always told you enough. You soaked in the comfort and joy you received from Jason as much as you could, because you knew going back to the campfire wouldn’t be a joyous occasion. Facing David and Nea after what had happened was going to be quite daunting.

Harry Warden

None of the survivors really got involved with you and Harry, if they even tried they knew Harry would make their lives hell. The only ones in the realm that disagreed with the two of you were Amanda and Evan. Evan only cared because he was best friends with Harry, so you spent some time alongside the two of them. So this made Evan fond of you and he hated not being able to kill you in trials due to being too soft on you, and of course he didn’t want to make Harry mad by sacrificing you. He valued Harry’s friendship and he knew what Harry’s temper was like. He didn’t want to get on the wrong side of him.

Amanda seemed to always have a slight crush on Harry, she never told anyone about it but you could always tell when you seen the way she acted around him at the killers camp. She would always ask how his trials went, compliment his killing skills and would often ask if he wanted to help her build her reverse bear traps. Of course Harry wasn’t a man of many words, he only spoke when he felt he needed to. So a lot of the time she was met with silence, she seen Harry talking to you sometimes which of course made her jealous. You hadn’t told Harry about it yet, but Amanda always tunnelled you and made sure you died first in trials. She had been making your life hell for a few weeks now, it was starting to really affect you mentally and physically, so you decided it was time to tell Harry.

You walked towards Harry’s cabin on the outskirts of the killers camp, thankfully no one was around to take advantage of your already injured self from the last trial. Amanda had mori’d you, so your forearm was still slightly punctured and oozing some blood, making you slightly dizzy. You hadn’t been to see Harry after trials for a long time, especially the ones with Amanda. You knew how angry and upset he would get seeing you this badly hurt. You approached Harry’s door, taking a deep breath. You knew he wouldn’t take this information well, he thought the world of you and if he knew someone was going out of their way to deliberately hurt you and make you suffer, it would tear him apart.

Harry’s door flung open just as you were about to knock, you looked up at him, his shoulders were heaving up and down. He was already mad, did he already know? Had somebody else told him? “Your arm. Who?” Was all you heard, rattling through his gas mask. “Uh, that’s why I came to see you actually.. I haven’t been coming to seen you after certain trials because of how injured I am after them. I know you hate seeing me hurt, so I-“ “I said, who?” He interrupted, causing you to take a step back. You looked up at him, his gaze fixed on you, burning into you, “It’s uh, it’s Amanda... she makes sure I suffer every single trial I have with her just because we are dating. I know she’s jealous, I’ve seen the way she acts around you Harry. It’s been going on for a while now, I just didn’t want to tell y-“ he stepped forward, looming over you. “How long?” His voice was deeper now, almost like a growl. “Around a month. I didn’t want to tell you because I know how mad you get when it comes to me being hurt.” You said nervously, you knew an outburst was coming. He didn’t say anything, you only noticed his breathing getting heavier and his fists starting to clench. “Harry, it’s okay. I just want you to talk to her to try get her to maybe cut me some slack.” He didn’t respond, he went back inside briefly, then barged out with his pickaxe gripped securely in his gloved hand. He lightly pushed you out of the way and stormed towards the rest of the killers cabins. You were jogging behind him just trying to keep up, but Harry was very fast, especially when he was angry. You saw Evan step out of his cabin and watch as Harry charged forward, he then started to walk down the steps of his cabin as you neared. “Not now Evan, I think Harry’s going to start something off.” You said slightly out of breath, Evan grabbed your arm, which caused you to jerk back. “Evan, let GO!” You struggled, but his grip was far too tight. “It isn’t safe, Harry won’t want you getting hurt.” He told you, his tone stern. “I don’t care, I don’t want Harry getting hurt. Let me go.” You said, instantly getting nervous after noticing the attitude you just gave him. He was your friend in a way, but he wasn’t Harry, so you may not get away with speaking to him in such a way. He didn’t say anything, he just started to walk forward, your arm still in his grasp. He was walking you forward, keeping you close to him so you couldn’t go anywhere other than where he wanted you to go.

The air grew colder the deeper you went into the killers camp, the only warmth was from Evan’s hand gripped around the top of your right arm. It began getting even darker, you could see a slight glow in the distance. As you neared the glow, you could hear faint shouting, you looked up at Evan as he picked up his pace. He knew something was going down, “Evan, what’s happening?” You asked, he didn’t say anything. He let out a sigh and broke into a jog, you could barely keep up with him but his grip on you wouldn’t loosen, causing you to trip over your own feet now and again. The shouting was really loud now, you noticed the glow was just the lights coming out of the three cabins that were near one another in this area. You recognised Harry’s voice instantly, “You ever touch her again, I’ll kill you myself.” He sounded furious, the last four words of his sentence sounded more like a promise. You came around the corner and seen Harry and Amanda facing each other, almost like a standoff. “We cannot die in here you fool, if that was the case I’d have killed your precious bitch long ago.” Amanda said with a smirk, she knew what this would cause. You saw Harry’s grip tighten around his pickaxe, his leather gloves slightly squeaking against the wooden handle. Amanda’s knife slithered down from her wrist, this wasn’t going to end well. Amanda swung first, which made you gasp, you couldn’t stand seeing Harry get hurt. You tried to run at her to distract her from Harry, but Evan’s grip wouldn’t allow it. “Evan please, he needs my help!” You pleaded, to which Evan let out a laugh, “Harry never needs help, he can handle himself.” You heard a twig snap right next to you, you turned quickly to see Amanda edging closer to you. “Here she is, the cause of it all. What I would do to end you for good.” She seethed, lifting her arm to swing her knife down at you. You flinched, putting your free arm over your face, preparing for the cold steel slicing through your flesh. Instead you were met with a loud clunk, Amanda’s knife had collided with Harry’s pickaxe, Harry had lunged forward to block her swing. He took advantage of Amanda being stunned by the collision, kicking her stomach, causing her to fall back. She looked up at Harry, “Come on Harry, we’ve been friends before you even met her. You’re going to choose some weak girl over me?” She said, anger and pain behind her words. Harry stood for a moment, looking back at you, you were wide eyed, still struggling against Evan’s grip trying to get to him. He turned back to look down at Amanda, “Yes.” He said, as he lifted his pickaxe and swung down, the point of it piercing Amanda’s skull. He yanked it out, then swung again, and again, until Amanda’s skull and brains were basically pulp. You knew nobody died in the realm, but it still didn’t make you feel any better about seeing someone’s life fade away, even if their death was only for a few minutes.

Harry turned to you, his shoulders and chest heaving. “She shouldn’t bother you now.” He said with a sigh, he dropped his pickaxe, lifting both of his arms and opening them wide motioning you to come to him. Evan’s grip loosened and you ran to Harry, you would expect him to fall over from the force you collided into him with, but it didn’t even budge Harry. You buried your head into his chest and slithered your arms around him, he pulled you into him as tightly as he could, causing you to lose some breath but you didn’t care. The safest you ever feel is in Harry’s arms. You looked up at him, his blacked out glass frames returning your gaze. You leant up and planted a kiss on his gas mask, causing his body to release all the tension he had. He looked at you for a few seconds before unclipping the bottom of his gas mask. His slightly plump lips in a smirk, he leaned down and pressed them against yours. His kisses always made you weak, you felt your body ease up in every sense of the word, causing you to let out a content sigh.

(I’m so sorry it took so long! University has been hectic, but I hope this is what you wanted and you like it!) 🤍

[miss-choco-chips]

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

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

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

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

---.---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----.----

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

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

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

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

Maybe he would wake up without noticing

---.---

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

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

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

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

----.-----

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

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

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

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

But not anymore)

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

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

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

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

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

-----.-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t play around. You know I mean…”

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

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

“Where? I’m not asking again.”

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

“Hood, I’m running out of patience.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Babybird, you speak the language of love.”

“Wasn’t that french?”

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

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

----.----

[my-northern-downpour]

Otherwise Engaged

This is my (late I’m sorry) Maribat Secret Santa gift for @kitsunebell! It’s a Timari story and contains fluff, some very slight angst, but a happy ending for all! My first time writing this couple and I had a hard, but good time. I really hope you enjoy and have a Happy New Year!

@maribat-secret-santa-2020 AO3

To say Tim was nervous would be the understatement of the century. Today was Christmas after all, and it was his girlfriend’s favorite holiday. And she loved literally almost everything about it. From the decorations, to the lights, to the cooking and smells that came with it, to gift giving and hanging out with family.The one thing she didn’t really care for was receiving gifts. She always accepted them with a smile and a thanks, but she hated the idea that people spent their money on her, even if some of them were billionaires. And this was what made him nervous. Because this year he had gotten her a gift, breaking their promise of no gifts for each other. And he had a plan to go along with it.

He had all day to get everything set up just the way he wanted. It wasn’t anything elaborate, but because his family was just the way they were, there was always something that can and probably will go wrong. He had already set up a private area in the Wayne Botanical Gardens, her favorite area with the tropical flowers in a variety of colors and smells. It was her go to area when in a design slump, and the location of their first date. He smiled as he recalled that day.

“Tim! Where are we going?” asked a young 18 year-old Marinette who was currently blindfolded and being led somewhere in her new home city of Gotham. Tim had been ecstatic to learn that his long time friend, crush, and now new girlfriend had decided to attend University in Gotham for their fashion courses. He knew a little of that world, but Mari had been a willing and patient teacher whenever he asked questions on why she was doing a certain stitch when and how she just knew what kind of fabrics to use. And in return, he was always willing to explain his business knowings her when she asked anything.  

“You’re so very impatient you know that?” replied an excited 19 year-old Tim Drake. He had never thought he would get the chance to take her out on a proper date, but now here he was, ecstatic and leading her to their first date location that he hoped she would love as much as he did. It was his favorite part of the botanical gardens and he knew she would love it as well. “It's our first official date and I want to take you somewhere special, so therefore it’s a surprise. You’ll just have to wait and see,” he chuckled at her sigh and tightened his grip on her hand slightly to signal her to pick up the pace a little. He, too, was getting impatient but he wouldn’t let her know that.

They entered the gardens and his excitement turned to nervousness. What if she didn’t like the location? What if she was allergic to these types of flowers? What if… He shook his head and didn’t think to much on it anymore. This was Mari he was talking about. She loved all types of flowers and he knew she loved places with color for inspiration. This was a foolproof plan… He hoped.

As they entered the tropical area of the gardens, he let go of her hand and turned around to face her. “Are you ready?” he asked. She nodded her head, excited to see where he had taken her. He reached up to untie the blindfold from her face and watched her face as she looked around. Her eyes lit up and her smile grew wide. She looked around the room, falling in love with it more and more. The red and yellow flowers contrasted against the green fauna made her inner artist squeal and add in the purples and oranges and she was a goner.

Marinette took another look around the room before turning back to Tim and placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “This place is amazing. Thank you for showing me this place.”

It was at that moment that Tim knew he was goner as well.

Returning to his project at hand, Tim had started to set up a little picnic area for them to enjoy together after the big Christmas family dinner. Alfred had made up both of their favorite snacks and desserts and had also packed a bottle of champagne. Tim never really was one to drink these days, but he did indulge every once in a while.

21 year-old Marinette had been up all night waiting for Tim to get home. He had said he was going out with some friends earlier to a bar for a few drinks. She knew it wasn’t his patrol night, so that’s not where he would be. She had tried calling him a few times, but stopped after the third time, not wanting to seem overbearing.  They had just moved in together into their own apartment not too long ago and everything had been going great so far. Marinette was almost done with her college courses and was on track to open her own little boutique here in Gotham, and Tim had started to take on some more work load for Wayne Enterprises. She knew how stressed he could get at times and a few drinks had always seemed to help him out. But he had never stayed out this late before. At least, not without letting her know he was okay.

And so, in order to occupy her mind, she pulled out her sketchbook and began to mindlessly draw some designs. Tikki would come by to check on her every now and then, but even the little goddess got tired and found herself snuggling up to Marinette to fall asleep. That was at 2 am. And it was now going on 5.

Just as she was about to give in and go to bed, she heard the jiggling of keys, the turning of a lock, and then the sound of the door opening and slamming shut. She carefully removed Tikki from herself and jumped out of the chair to run to the front door.

There stood Tim, alive at least, but looking worse for wear. His hair was crazy and wild looking and his usually neat shirt was wrinkled and had a few stains on it. She could smell the alcohol on him a mile away. She said nothing as he looked up at her and smiled before tripping over himself and landing against the wall with a thud. After helping him to the bed and removing his shoes, she set a glass of water and aspirin on the nightstand and left him to sleep on the couch.

The conversation that followed was fairly typical. She asked where he had been and why he didn’t at least let her know he would be back later than expected.  He told her he was sorry to worry her and that his phone had died. He explained that he ended up at his friends house where they continued the party after the bars closed and that was it. Then he promised to not do it again.

Except he did it again. It was two months later, but it happened.

And then again and again and again.

He continued to go out and stay out on his off nights and even sometimes skipped his own patrols.

And then one night/morning he came home expecting her to be there, but she wasn’t. Instead he found a note on her side of the bed, claiming she was at his father’s house for the foreseeable future. She couldn’t keep doing this, waiting around all night for him to come back and worrying about where he was at or if he was okay. She wrote that she loved him and wanted to help him get better, but she needed a break for right now. Because she didn’t know how to help him.

It didn’t really set in that she was gone until he looked around the room and saw that it looked empty. Her side of the closet contained only bare hangers and her sketchbooks and extra fabrics were gone. He looked around to try to find the tiny flying goddess or any of the other kwami that she guarded, but couldn’t find them at all.

When he laid down, it was to a cold bed and he knew he had royally fucked up.

Shaking those thoughts aside, he took a look at the picnic area and smiled. Now all he had to do was make sure his family didn’t interrupt him this evening after they left the manor.

~~~

Christmas dinner went as smoothly as expected. Marinette’s parents flew in to spend some time with everyone and, of course, brought along some of their macarons. Gifts were exchanged and pleasantries were passed along. Time kept creeping ever closer to his time with Marinette, and Tim was feeling nervous again. He knew she loved him, no doubt about it. She wouldn’t have put up with him for almost 7 years if she didn’t. And he loved her more than he could ever convey. So why did he feel this way?

Ahh, yes. It was his brothers, who were currently trying to set up a way to sneak into the gardens beforehand and not get noticed. The only ones he wanted there were him, his girlfriend, and the gaggle of kwamis that were always around her. But even they were in on it, so they were going to make themselves scarce. Dick and Jason had set up cameras earlier, but Tim had found them and knocked them out. Damian, who really opened up to Marinette over the past few years, had tried to sneak a peak at the ring so he could give his approval, but it was moved before he could find it. Even Bruce had had thoughts of trying to get in, but Alfred had pulled him aside for some last minute details on something that needed his attention right away.

He looked at the clock in the living room. 9:30. It was time to go. He began to get up and walked over to Marinette who was sitting with her parents just chatting away. He felt bad for taking her away from them, but this was important. And her parents knew.

“Mari, babe. Let’s head out. There’s some place I want to go before we head home for the night,” he said to her as he laid his hands on her shoulders. She turned to look at him and smiled before turning back to her parents.

“Maman, Papa, is that okay if we go?” Her parents eagerly agreed, saying they would talk later and to have fun tonight. And with that, Tim and Marinette had grabbed their coats, said their goodbyes, and went on their way.

“So, where exactly are we going Tim? You seem really excited for this,” she inquired from her seat, Tikki sat on her shoulder and grinning widely.

“Now, where’s the fun in surprises if you know about them?” he chuckled as they pulled up to botanical gardens. He quickly got out of the car and ran to her side to open the door and let her out. Taking her hand, he gently kissed the back of it before closing the door behind her. “Now, I do have something for you to wear before you can go in.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a blindfold.

“Really? I know almost every inch of this place?” she giggled. “But, if you insist, go right ahead.”

Tim then covered her eyes and started leading her into the gardens. They passed through every single area until they reached her favorite room. This was it. Now or never. He reached up to take the blindfold off, but instructed her to keep her eyes closed until he told her to open them. He pulled the ring out of his pocket and got down on one knee.

“Okay, you can open them.”

Marinette opened her eyes and smiled at the room. It was always lovely to be here. It made her happy and always quieted her mind. She looked for Tim in front of her before looking down and gasping. There he was, kneeling in front of her, with a simple yet gorgeous floral ring.

“Marinette,” he began, “you’re my best friend and my favorite person. I’ve gotten to spend 7 years with you and for that I am the luckiest man in the world. You were there for me in my darkest time and you never stopped believing in me. You were there even when you had every right to leave me behind and never look back. You have no idea the hold you have on me.”

“I want to continue to wake up next to you, and to share your struggles, frustrations, and celebrate your achievements. You’re the only one for me and I want to let everyone know that. So will you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, do me the honor of marrying me?”

Marinette’s heart was beating so hard at that moment. Her eyes began to water and she began to smile. “As long as you can handle the constant screeching you’ll get from my friends for not telling them about this, then yes. Tim Drake-Wayne, I would love nothing more than to marry you.”

His smile turned so bright at her words and he took the ring out of the box. She handed him her left hand and slid the ring into place before pulling her in for a passionate kiss…

That only lasted a few seconds because not long afterwards did a bat boy seemingly fall out of nowhere.

“Really Nightwing?! I had the perfect spot to record it all!” Red Hood shouted up to the ceiling where a chorus of laughter rang out. He pulled himself up before turning to the happy couple and whipped out his recording device. “Don’t mind me. Just recording this for prosperity’s sake, you know?”

Marinette laughed and Tim sighed before turning back to his fiance (Fiance!) and pulled her back in for another kiss, ignoring all the catcalls and whistles from up above.

Years down the road, Tim was grateful for the video, even though he would never tell anyone that.

[daemoninwhiteround2]

I really enjoy your work! I await your updates like a wife waits for her husband to return from war lol. Here’s a prompt: Damian sabotaging the other Wayne alpha(s) courting efforts because he doesn’t want them to cut into time with his ummi.

Thank you for the compliment! I hope you enjoy this!

Honestly, Damian's almost embarrassed at how easy their packmates make it for him to sabotage their attempts to court umm'i. One brief word to umm'i, a stray file left out here, a mention of how overbearing someone has been lately... If they really wanted umm'i, they'd try harder, be better, be more subtle. It's not the strongest alpha that gets the omega, it's the alpha that the omega chooses.

If anything it just strengthens his resolve. Umm'i is weak to these people, as much as he would claim otherwise. Damian remembers how his scent would turn when he was in heat, how he'd call out for his absent packmates in his sleep. Umm'i pretends not to, but he wants to be back in the twinned Bat and Wayne packs so terribly. Umm'i's decision making skills, usually razor sharp, can't be trusted.

But umm'i's other choices aren't much better. Damian will be cold in the ground again before he allows umm'i to mate Harper. He might be an adequate sire for Lian, but he's too frequently distracted to be counted on to take proper care for umm'i and any pups that might result.

And the less said about umm'i's Lantern hanger-on, the better. Pity the Amazon is already mated, she would at least ensure that umm'i's pups were strong enough to thrive.

Umm'i deserves someone who can match him. Someone who won't turn away from him because he kills. Someone who understands why umm'i does what he does. Someone who is willing to defend the easily-bruised heart umm'i pretends died with Robin.

Most of the heroes can be easily dismissed - Father's creed to never kill infects far too many of them - and so Damian reluctantly turns to the antiheroes.

Wilson is too crude and far too old. Apollo and Midnighter are only attracted to other alphas, and committed to one another.

Artemis might do, but it only take a short stakeout to realise that she is also primarily attracted to other alphas.

Damian sighs.

Grayson leans across and ruffles his hair. Damian graciously allows him to make contact. "What's got you so down, Dami?"

Damian considers Grayson. Pathetic courting attempts aside, Grayson is probably the only pack member he would allow to court umm'i. He's got heart, and Damian has heard him pleading with umm'i to come back to the pack - has heard what umm'i hasn't, the undercurrent of desperation, and even further underneath that, the fury of an alpha denied.

He's also killed, and in umm'i's name, no less. Had it stuck, that would weigh far greater in Grayson's favour than anything else he could do. It took Damian a long time to find that footage, and he saved a copy of it to his private files. Should he need to, it will be easy to position the video so that umm'i watches it.

Damian has never been more furious with Father. As though it would be possible to ever regret that murder, or for it to stain the soul.

Part of Damian does want Father to mate with umm'i. It just ... fits. Jason was not exposed to the concept of a nuclear family until he started studying America, in the League, all pups of a generation are communally raised by the omegas. Damian was set apart because he was the heir, but he understood that his existence was the outlier. And it meant that he could keep umm'i to himself, anyway.

But Father will never understand umm'i, not truly. Father will always see umm'i as supplanting the child Jason, he refuses to see it is a natural conclusion. Damian had read Pet Sematary and found some interesting parallels.

Drake... No. Never. Umm'i has much too good taste to allow Drake to touch him like that. Drake can return to panting after the clone's heats and leave umm'i alone.

Damian sighs. As per usual, it's up to him.

[kandoesfanfics-writes]

Hello I love your work Can I requested 16, jasonette, with a happy ending please? Have a nice day

Prompt 16: “I’m sorry, but…I don’t remember you.” Jasonette. 

This took forever and a day, and I do apologize. HOWEVER, I had to figure out how to make this happy at the end. Hope I did a good job with it.

—————————————————————————————————-

He felt like someone had twisted a knife into his chest as he looked down at her. He was holding her wrists, confused and frightened himself. He wasn’t sure who she was or what she wanted. The only thing he knew was she looked devastated, and was sobbing her pretty eyes out... and it made him want to cry, too, for some reason.

She was so tiny compared to his hulking frame of six feet, two inches. She didn’t even come up to his shoulder, stopping more at his sternum. She had black hair that fell loosely around her heart-shaped face, a cute button nose and a pair of soft-looking lips finished it off. 

Jason knew he wouldn’t sleep well for a while. Her eyes would haunt him. 

Those soft grey-blue eyes were full of anger, sorrow, and betrayal. Tears spilled down her cheeks. Those eyes were begging him to do something, but what? He didn’t know what he could do. He didn’t know how to make her feel better. He didn’t even know her.

But apparently she knew him.

“Jason… Jason, please! It’s me, Jase! It’s Marinette! Why are you looking at me like that?” Her begging voice was absolutely broken, garbled with sobs.

“I’m sorry… but I don’t remember you,” he told her softly. “I’m really sorry.”

He repeated over and over that he didn’t remember who she was, but all it did was make her look more desperate — and the more Jason’s heart shattered in his chest. 

He wasn’t sure why he was so affected by her tears. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to care about her. Jason hadn’t cared about anyone in years, save for maybe Dick.

“But Jason… Jase… Why did you stop answering me? Why are you pretending like you don’t know me? You were my best friend… I loved you. I loved you, Jason. Hell, I thought I still loved you! I was so excited to see you because I knew you, I love you!”

Jason winced, the ache in his chest growing.

“I’m sorry.  I’m really sorry…”

Eventually, the sobbing woman was pulled away by a black-haired woman with the most vicious looking eyes he’d ever seen. Her lips were pulled into a snarl as she addressed him, clearly not afraid of him despite being about a foot smaller than him. 

She gently wrapped her arms around Marinette and guided her away from him, which filled Jason with relief as well as extreme apprehension.

The dark-haired man was relieved — he no longer had to stop this foreign woman from hugging him, nor did he have to deal with her tears. But Jason was also apprehensive. This Marinette woman knew too much about him to be a stranger to him.

She knew he loved classic literature. She knew his favorite subject in school was English. She knew he wrote poetry. She knew he loved Alfred like his own grandfather, that Alfred had taught him to cook. She knew his favorite type of baked goods were conchas because they were sweet and slightly crispy. She knew that Dick had bought him the Lord of the Rings novels for his birthday (and Jason had cried over it). She also knew that he had a collection of works written by Edgar Allen Poe… and claimed to be the one to have given it to him for his twelfth birthday.

Jason could feel himself trembling a little bit as fear clawed at his chest. No one could have known that unless they talked to either Jason himself or Dick. Dick wasn’t there. Dick was in Bludhaven. Dick couldn’t have talked to her. 

He doubted that Bruce or Alfred would have told anyone private information like that either. 

He needed to go home. He needed to find that collection, needed to know the truth. 

Jason rushed past Bruce and the tide of people around him. He let his feet carry him towards the exit, forgotten voices ringing in his ears. He burst through the door, sprinting out into the busy street. 

He took a few gulps of air as he adjusted to the sunlight, his lungs burning as frigid air entered. Because he was looking frantically for a cab or anything else that could take him home, he could barely hear his name being shouted until a hand grabbed his wrist. 

Jason spun around, ready to fight. His other fist flew towards the person who grabbed him, but the person was faster than him. They had released his wrist and dodged his swing. 

"Jason, what the actual fuck is wrong with you?!" an annoyed voice snapped. "Bruce is going to call Dick at this rate!"

Jason blinked a few times before he was able to refocus. He noted the speaker had chin-length black hair and cobalt blue eyes. He recognized the face as his replacement, one Timothy Drake.

"Jason! What's going on? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Jason shook his head violently, feeling his throat closing up. How could she have known all of that? How did she know him? Why didn't he remember her? Why couldn't he figure this out?

A horrible laughter rang in his ears.

Why can't you remember, Boy Blunder?

Why can't you remember, little bird?

Did Uncle J hit you too hard?

I know you're tougher than that!

C'mon, you're the Bat's junior detective! Can't you figure out anything?

Then again, you didn't realize your mummy dearest was working for Uncle J—

Then everything went black.

—————

When he woke up, a pair of concerned green eyes was gazing down at him.

Green eyes? No one in his family aside from him had green eyes. He blinked a few times before noting the person also had bright red hair. Confusion littered his thoughts as he struggled to remember where he was and what had happened. He tried to sit up, but two quick hands stopped him, gently pushing back down on his chest. 

“Easy there, Jay. You fainted on the sidewalk. Timmy and Diana brought you home, and I brought Dickie back home. We were really worried about you.” This voice was familiar. 

Ah, that would explain it.

Wally must have been visiting Dick in Bludhaven. Once Dick heard that something had happened to him, he must have asked the speedster to bring him back to Gotham. Wally, being Dick’s best friend, would have brought him without question. The only remaining question to be answered at the moment would be Dick’s whereabouts, and why Wally was the one sitting with him.

A few bangs and a crash later, his elder brother came barreling into the room. Dick was a mess, only in his pajamas and his hair an absolute mess. He looked stressed, dark bags under his eyes making him look like a raccoon. His familiar sky-blue eyes found Jason, and once he realized he was awake, Dick raced over to him.

“Little wing!” Dick breathed, hugging his little brother tight. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

Jason looked around in confusion as he spotted Tim and Diana walking into the room. Tim’s face was paler than normal and his eyes were narrowed, as if he were trying to solve the most difficult puzzle he’d ever encountered. Diana looked relieved to see him awake, giving him a gentle smile. They both waited for Dick to be done fussing over Jason to speak.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright, Jason,” Diana said softly. “You gave Tim quite a scare when you fell on him.”

“Who was that woman, Jason?” Tim asked. “The one who tried to hug you. The one who was crying.”

Jason’s blood turned cold as he remembered just what he’d been thinking about before he spiralled.

“Dick, I need you to get something out of my old room,” he whispered. “I need you to get a book. The collection of Edgar Allen Poe’s works.”

“Little wing, are you sure? Don’t you want to rest—”

“Dick, the book. It’s important.”

Dick gave him a confused look but went to fetch the book. Once Dick had left the room, Jason turned his attention towards Tim.

“You’re tech-savvy, aren’t you, Tim? Do you think you could find records or traces of an old email account of mine? One I had before the Joker canned me?” Jason asked, trying to control his racing heart.

“...Depending on the server and whether or not they’ve wiped it, maybe,” Tim replied hesitantly, chewing on his lip. “I could try.”

“Please?”

Tim grabbed his laptop. For the next ten minutes, the only things audible were the tapping of keys on the keyboard and the blood roaring in his ears. Jason remained silent as he waited for Dick to return with his book. 

He needed to see it, needed to see the inside cover. The inside cover would, at the very least, give him a starting point to go off of. He didn’t need to panic just yet.

Dick came back a few moments later with the well-loved and worn book. He went to hand it to Jason, but paused as he noticed his brother’s hands were now shaking violently.

“Little wing...what’s wrong?”

“Dick, open the cover.”

“Jason—”

“Just open the fucking cover, Dick! Read to me what’s on the inside!”

Dick slowly opened the cover, not understanding what the hell was going on. Why would there be something on the inside cover? Did Jason write a note there? Was there something hidden or taped there? Did it have anything to do with what had happened to Jason earlier?

His eyes locked onto the message, written in red ink, and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Dear Jason, I hope this present gets to you on time. I don’t know how long it takes mail to get to Gotham from Paris, so I apologize if it’s late. I also hope this is the correct copy! I wanted to send you macrons, but Maman said that would be very hard and there’s lots of rules. You’ll have to come back to Paris again if you want more of our macrons. I miss you a lot. I hope I’ll get to see you again soon!

Happy twelfth birthday!

Love, Marinette.”

Jason covered his face with both hands and moaned.

“God, I did know her…”

Tim and Dick exchanged a look with each other before asking Jason about what had happened. Jason launched into his explanation of how the young woman had called his name and ran up to him. She’d tried to hug him, but Jason had grabbed her and not allowed her to touch him. She said her name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and according to her, they had met when Bruce took him to Paris for a business trip.

“She knew personal details about me,” Jason choked. “I knew she couldn’t be a stranger because she knew stuff that only Dick would know about me. She told me she gave me that book for my birthday. She told me she wrote a note in it...and it’s there. It’s really there. I knew her… I knew her before the Joker killed me.”

“...That’s why she was crying,” Tim said quietly, putting the pieces together. “You didn’t remember her.”

Jason nodded, feeling his body go numb.

“I tried remembering. I tried, but I remembered him instead.” 

Dick gave Jason’s shoulder a comforting squeeze as he continued.

“I must have spiralled from there. Did you find my email, Tim?”

Tim nodded before replying, “You emailed back and forth for a few years. You have over forty emails from… from after you died.”

Jason gestured for the computer, and Tim handed it to him. He sat up more before looking at everyone in the room.

“Can I be left alone? I want to read these.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Dick asked, his eyebrows furrowing together. “What if another email sets you off again?”

“Then just one of you stay with me. I want to try to remember her. I need to.”

Tim saw the look on Dick’s face and quickly grabbed Wally’s arm. He gestured to Diana, and the three left Dick and Jason alone in the living room. Tim knew that Dick was going to try and dig into this, and he wanted to be nowhere near them when Jason exploded. He suggested that they all go get some cookies from Alfred, and that Diana should distract Bruce when he came home.

“Why is it so important that you remember her?” Dick asked quietly. “This could dig up things—”

“I have to, Dick.”

“Jason, you don’t have to do anything.”

“Yes, I do!”

“No, you don’t!”

“YOU WEREN’T THERE, DICK!”

The older man took a step back, slightly shocked about Jason’s outburst. He knew the young man had had an emotional night, but he wasn’t expecting this at all.

“You weren’t there,” Jason hissed. “You didn’t see her. She looked so betrayed, scared… sad. She looked like I’d ripped her heart out of her goddamn chest, Dick. Her friend glared at me when she led her away. She was sobbing, and it wasn’t fake. You can’t fake that shit.”

Tears stung his eyes as he barely managed to choke out his next words. “She said she loves me, Dick. She loves me, and I don’t remember who she is. I need to find out who she was to me. I feel like she was important. Really important.”

Dick fell silent. Jason watched his big brother rub his eyes and sigh in exhaustion, before sitting down beside him. He wrapped an arm around Jason’s shoulder in his brotherly way before telling him that he was here for him, no matter what the emails said.

Jason nodded grimly before going back to the beginning.

——————

It didn’t work.

He still couldn’t recall who Marinette Dupain-Cheng was.

Reading their emails felt like reading through someone else’s letters, not his. 

He couldn’t recall inside jokes that they had shared. 

He couldn’t recall the events that they had shared together. 

He couldn’t recall the emotions attached to the emails. 

She felt like someone completely separate from him, as if the Jason Todd who existed before the Joker’s crowbar was someone completely separate from the Jason after. 

But he knew more about her.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was kind.

She was supportive.

She was creative.

She was intelligent.

She was a problem solver.

She was the kind of person Jason Todd had always respected, the one who put others' needs before her own. She was the one who came to save the day. She was the one who would come up with a creative solution to a seemingly impossible problem. She was the one who would listen to your concerns genuinely and soothe your fears. She was the person who loved so fiercely no matter how many times her heart had been hurt.

The Jason Todd that was here and now could not remember who Marinette Dupain-Cheng was, but he wanted to change that.

And damn whoever came in his way. 

Tim had hunted down her phone number and gave it to him. The only thing left to do now was for Jason to call her. He hoped he could still make this right. 

From her emails, Marinette did seem like a good person, and Jason couldn’t help but feel terrible that he’d hurt her. He knew he couldn’t get his memories back, but he could make new ones. Hopefully, she’d give him the chance to do that.

He held his cellphone in a vice grip as it rang.

“Hello?”

“Hello...my name is Jason Todd. When I was fifteen years old, I was in a car accident that nearly killed me. I lost… I lost a good chunk of my memories of things that had happened before that. I found your note in my book… and I found our emails.”

Jason could hear the intake of breath on the other end of the phone. He could also hear muffled sounds, and he prayed that she wasn’t crying again.

“I’m really sorry, Marinette. I don’t remember you, and I can’t get those memories back. The only thing I can do is apologize and hope that you’ll let me make new memories with you,” he said, his voice strained. 

“I’m sorry I dropped off the face of the earth. I’m sorry that we had to meet this way. I’m sorry that I still don’t remember you even after reading all of our emails… but I want to change that.”

“How? How can you change that?” Her broken voice replied.

“By seeing you again. This… this isn’t going to be easy,” he warned her. “This is going to be hard. But you are a good person. You answered my emails with such kindness and compassion. You always took care to think about my needs and feelings — you’re the kind of person I’d want as a friend. I want to restart, if you’re willing.”

A broken sob echoed on the other end before a watery voice replied, “Hi...my name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m twenty years old. I work for Style Queen in New York City as an apprentice designer.”

A smile broke out on Jason’s face as he said, “Hi, Marinette. My name is Jason Todd. I’m twenty-one years old. I work freelance security in Gotham City. It’s very nice to meet you.”

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

The “Rescue”

Slade Wilson x reader

Summary: Arkham Knight era, the boy needs a hand after he gets caught

Word Count: 1830

If someone had asked that morning how he thought this whole “attack Gotham on Halloween” thing was going to go, Slade probably would have said literally anything other than the way it actually had gone. Months of careful planning somehow ended with him sitting in a cell at the police station with every crazed idiot that plagued the cesspool they called a city. The man poorly singing opera in the middle of said cell especially grated on his already frayed nerves.

It hadn’t helped that all of those irritating criminals had gotten especially antsy about ten minutes prior when damn near every cop in the precinct rushed out with whispers of something happening at Wayne Manor on their lips. Slade could only hope the Knight made it out okay. But it didn’t matter, not much he could do to help the kid until after he got himself out of here. An annoying task in and of itself considering that his gear had been confiscated upon arrival; he was lucky no one had had the balls to try and take his mask. So he chose to bide his time, head leaned back against the bars as he sat on the ground and tried to ignore the other prisoners around him.

The phrase ‘Time is an illusion’ came to mind while Slade sat waiting for something to happen, something that would give him the chance to escape. Cops weren’t back yet, so it hadn’t been too long. Still, he was getting antsy, eager to leave the company of Gotham’s Craziest. Though, he wasn’t so eager that he was happy when the power suddenly cut out. Predictably, there was a sudden hush among the prisoners before the chatter returned twofold.

This can’t be good.

“You look like shit, Wilson.”

His eyes slid closed and he sighed, automatically recognizing that voice. He’d better after all the times and contexts in which he’d heard it.

“He’s wearing a mask!” Cobblepot argued. “How the hell can she know that?”

“Shut up!” Dent snarled. “You fucking idiot. Do you not recognize her mask? She’s almost as bad as him!”

Ignoring them, Slade turned to look at her. Sure enough, her mask (one much like the Knight’s) was blocking whatever facial expression she had, but her body language spoke volumes about her attitude. The outfit she was wearing fit poorly; something she’d stolen from a militia member to blend in most likely. “Why are you here?”

You crossed your arms, weight falling to one hip. There was a little time to spare before the skeleton police crew came to check on this particular group of criminals. “A mutual friend of ours asked me to make sure you made it out of town.”

“I don’t need your help, Y/N.”

“Like it or not, you’ve got it. The Bat’s dead; his manor blew sky high with him in it.”

That sent a wave of murmurs through everyone that was openly listening to the two of them argue.

The crowd was loud enough to cover the quiet, “Allegedly,” that was for Slade’s ears only. “So, do you want out of here or not?”

“Suppose I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” he grumbled, rising to his feet slowly.

“Who are you callin’ a horse, Wilson?” you challenged even as you pried the door open.

None of his cellmates were stupid enough to challenge Deathstroke as he exited the cell and closed the door behind him. “The woman that felt the need to break her ex-husband out of jail without even getting paid for it, Ms. Wilson.” It was always amusing to him, the fact that you never bothered to change your name back to what it was before. Well, it amused him about as much as it hurt him.

“Well, everybody always says I have shit judgement, so I figured I’d say ‘fuck it’ and lean into it this time.”

It was only once both of them were in one of the militia’s armored transports that Slade started to relax the slightest bit, and even then it was in no small part due to the fact that you’d handed him a duffel full of his gear. Apparently you’d made a pit-stop by the evidence lockup before grabbing him.

“So the Knight sent you?” he asked as she drove, the vehicle headed out of the city. He wasn’t leaving your presence anytime soon as far as he could tell, so he might as well make nice in the meantime.

You nodded, eyes remaining carefully trained on the road. Looking at him . . . well, it was never a good idea for you. “He messaged me as soon as things went sideways with the Bat. Took me a few hours to get here.”

“Little shit had no faith that I’d get the job done?”

A smirk tugged at your lips. “You don’t exactly have a winning track record going against Batman alone, and your thugs--trained or not--stood no chance. Don’t get mad at him though; he was worried about you.”

“And you’d do anything for him.”

You nodded, and out of the corner of your eye you saw him echo the gesture. It was against your better judgement, but you couldn’t stop the admission from sliding from your lips as easily as curses normally did. “And for you.”

Every muscle in Slade’s body froze at that; for once he had no idea what to say. “Y/N. . .” 

You just sighed.

There was a reason for your relationship in the first place, after all, as well as your divorce. The love you two had was a dangerous one; there were no lengths one of you wouldn’t go to if it meant saving the other. The only people that could claim something similar from Slade were his children, and that was only after you helped them reconcile. And the love you shared had never faded. In fact, the problem was the exact opposite. You two had hated to be apart, hated that your separate contracts often made you go weeks without seeing the other, and more importantly each of your enemies started going after the other in an endless search for weaknesses. For Slade it was no problem. For you . . . Let’s just say it was a shame that you didn’t have his enhancements.

So the two of you staged a massive fight and ended it between you. That was ten years ago, and not a day went by that you didn’t wish things were different.

When you glanced over, you saw that he’d removed his mask, and yeah looking at him was never a great idea for you. Confirmed. It only reminded you how much you loved him. And the fact that he was still handsome even years after all the years since he was the young brunet mercenary you met so long ago.

Slade found himself in a similar situation over in the passenger seat. As much as his first wife taught him he was bad at the whole feelings thing, you taught him that he could be more than that. His cold heart gave a solid thud at the sight of you removing your own mask with the smooth familiarity of someone who’d done it a thousand times and carelessly tossing the marvel of mechanical headwear into the back seat. You’d gained some wrinkles over the years you’d spent away from him as well as some grey hairs, but you were still stunning. Maybe it was a good thing you never took it off around him while the two of you were working with the militia down in Venezuela . . . 

“I thought we agreed . . .” he muttered, normal confidence put aside for honesty just like it always was when talking to you.

“Do you remember what it was like back then?”

“When?”

“That trip when we stayed in that backwater beach house in South America.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Second honeymoon. Rose wanted to kill us for getting her to dogsit.”

You nodded, fingers flexing on the steering wheel as you fought the urge to reach over and touch him. “She agreed, and I paid her.”

“It was a wolfhound you trained to help you on jobs; it was a beast.”

“Rover was a good boy, and you loved him.”

“You knew she couldn’t say no to you.”

“Okay, that I can’t argue.��

There was a moment of amused silence where Slade simply enjoyed your company for a moment. But all good things in his life had to end, so, “Why do you bring it up?”

You hesitated, face nervous, a rare thing when you were talking to him even after the divorce. “I miss it.” Even someone as emotionally stunted as Slade Wilson could hear the unsaid, “I miss you,” in your tone.

“Did something happen?”

You shook your head. “Been thinking about it for a while, actually. Ever since we started helping the Knight.”

It really had been a while, then, since Jason Todd hired both of you over a year ago to help gather and train his army. You buying and programming the drones and equipment as well as building the Knight’s mask in a style similar to your own, Slade training the people how to actually fight. Crossing paths had been both inevitable and painful.

“What you’re thinking . . . Y/N, it isn’t a good idea.”

Abruptly, you slammed on the brakes. Slade absolutely would have hit the windshield if his reflexes had been any slower and he hadn’t been able to brace himself in time. Your eyes were practically blazing when you turned to glare at him. “Slade Wilson, if you can look me in the eye right now and convince me that you don’t want the same thing, I’ll drop it and you’ll never see me again.”

The thing was he couldn’t do that. You knew how to hit him where it mattered, that was sure. Mentioning his kids (both of which still loved and looked up to you), that trip . . . Yeah . . . He wanted you around just as much as you wanted him around. God only knows why she wants me.

He sighed heavily. “If we do this, we’ll have to be partners. None of that working separately shit that got us in trouble before.”

“Lucky for us, we already know how each other works.”

Slade rolled his eyes, relaxing into his seat once more as you started driving again. “Why do I feel like the kid set this up?”

“Because he’s a manipulative little shit just like the rest of our kids except he has the Bat’s subtlety?” you offered ‘helpfully.’

Meaning that he has none? Slade chose to focus on that instead of the way a little thrum of pleasure passed through him at the way you talked about his children like they were your own; though, he supposed you were right to address Jason as one of them. Despite himself, he’d grown pretty damn fond of the little bird. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

[veronicamarsconfessions]

I was hugely excited by the announcement that a fourth season of teen noir show Veronica Mars was going to be made, nearly fifteen years after the show’s initial air date (and cancellation after three seasons), and five years after the crowdfunded movie came out. As soon as the show dropped on Hulu (or Stan, if you’re in Australia like me) – a week earlier than initially slated, I rushed to watch it. And I was so distraught by the ending that it genuinely took two days for my mood to return to something even vaguely resembling ‘okay’.

For those of you who haven’t seen it *SPOILERS FROM HERE ON*,

season four has Veronica (Kristen Bell) chasing down a serial bomber who seems to be trying to destroy the Spring Break business in Neptune. It turns out that the first bomb was set by property developer ‘Big’ Dick Casablancas, trying to destroy the Spring Break business in order to buy the waterfront properties cheaply, and the subsequent bombs were set by a pizza delivery man, Penn Epner (Patton Oswalt), who fancies himself a detective and is out to find glory after he is initially ridiculed for his public accusation of an incorrect suspect. The season itself had several issues (one of them being some seriously murky motivations behind Epner’s behaviour, like, if he really was that much of a genius, why was he a pizza delivery man?, and that the people ultimately behind the crimes are more or less ‘hidden in plain sight’ all along, which is a disappointing departure from the way the initial seasons cleverly hid the villain until quite late in proceedings). However, the issue for which there is not enough therapy in the world to appease me is the season’s last-minute killing off of reformed bad-boy and Veronica’s long-time boyfriend, Logan Echolls (Jason Dohring), right after they finally got married.

Series creator and showrunner, Rob Thomas, justified this decision by saying ‘I know this seems crazy or harsh but Veronica is at her best when she’s an underdog and I don’t know that there’s much to root for if she’s now got a perfect relationship. I need to keep her fighting and I need to keep her a little bit uncomfortable in order to have a show. There’s nothing funny or interesting about perfection.’

Except that’s a deeply flawed understanding of how relationships function, and a deeply messed up thing to push on to people.

It’s fair to acknowledge that once the ‘will-they-won’t-they’ is resolved, TV shows often decline in quality, or at the very least, significantly depart from the original formula which made them into such beloved hits at their beginning. But there are two significant issues with this: First, the assumption that TV shows must remain the same in order to be good. There are some interesting observations that the job of the sitcom episode (in particular) is to return all characters to more or less their original starting points. While that is broadly true, TV shows, like life, need to evolve in order to stay interesting, and as across seasons, audiences grow alongside the characters they watch evolve and mature.

Nevertheless, it was fair for Thomas to note that the characterisation of Veronica is someone who is embittered and cynical about people’s fidelity and inherent goodness  – after all, when we first meet her at the age of sixteen, her best friend has been brutally murdered, she’s been raped, her alcoholic mother has upped and left, and her adored father and moral compass has been socially ostracised for a) doing his job and b) being not super wealthy. It’s a lot. Veronica’s very understandable trust issues are compounded by the moonlighting she does as a P.I where, to she regularly sees people cheating on one another and generally behaving in unpleasant ways. So it’s reasonable to point out that for Veronica, the notion of the ‘happily ever after’ is a deeply uncomfortable one. But to keep her in the same mindset as she was at aged 16 is to deny her the capacity to grow as a character.

It’s fair that there was a desire to avoid repeating the pattern previously established (withdrawn/bitter etc), but – and here is my ultimate point – that could have been avoided.

Some of the most complex and interesting storylines come from couples who get together and have to navigate relationships; compromising to fit together, find a way to make it work. Think about the evolution of Niles and Daphne’s relationship in Frasier (and leave aside some of the aspects to his earlier infatuation with her that seem distinctly distasteful in a post-#metoo world). While much of the humour between them in earlier seasons was because of his unrealised ardour for her, after they became a couple, the hardships they navigated through being a couple, and the deepening richness of their relationship that was both romantic and based in friendship, produced some truly hilarious moments. Similarly, one of my (and our fabulous Chief Nerd, Elise’s) favourite TV shows, Chuck, *SPOILER* has the two leads get together in season 3. The show was no lesser for that fact because as Chuck and Sarah’s relationship deepened, they explored facets of themselves that they hadn’t previously shown – it provided more material for the writers, not less.

One of my favourite articles on the ending of Veronica Mars, season four, pointed out that Logan has the most interesting character development because he works to better himself – he has come a long way from the miscreant teenager who organised ‘bum fights’, and he had the potential to become an even more interesting character. How this interacted with Veronica’s cynicism could have provided significant fodder for more story.

But, giving full credit to Rob Thomas for a moment here, the show is called Veronica Mars, not Logan Echolls. So the decision to axe Logan was made to push Veronica’s character development forward, especially given the shows position as a gender-flipped noir which so often has the embittered, cynical detective dealing with the ongoing pain of a tragically killed love.

But the problem is that I can’t actually see how this is going to do anything but ossify Veronica’s primary characteristics: bitter, a hardnosed and reckless desire to catch the bad guy at any cost. Moreover, in most of the noir detective stories, this love has died before we meet the hard-bitten detective.

Thomas said to The Hollywood Reporter, “Moving forward, we’re going to really build around [the idea that] the case is the thing and less of the soap opera of Veronica’s life.” Except Veronica Mars is all about character. Her interactions with her father, Keith (Enrico Colantoni) and the genuine bond of affection between them evokes some of the show’s most poignant interactions. Her internal struggle when the pursuit of justice comes up against questions of morality is inherent grounded in her character. One of its most interest aspects across the years is that Veronica is often wrong. She falsely accuses people (including Logan himself), she behaves badly, she takes her friends for granted, and she can be reckless to the point where she endangers herself and someone has to come in and rescue her (case in point: wandering into the base of an Irish gang that had a particular grudge against her father). So to strip away the elements to the story that allow for depiction and consideration of those complexities would be to lose much of the show’s point.

There’s also a part of me that feels the way in which Logan was killed feels personal. Logan and Veronica were never initially meant to get together, but in the first episodes, the chemistry between the characters, and Kristen Bell and Jason Dohring was so profound that it was written in. I might be putting on my tin foil hat to say this, but it feels as though Thomas resented the manner in which LoVe became such a pivotal part of the Veronica Mars ‘brand’. What really underpins that for me is that the way the series sent off other characters was considered, and gave them a certain ‘exit’. The way in which Logan was killed off feels almost like an afterthought, made more so by some of the questions that arise from the manner. How did he know that she would be in it when it actually blew up? Moreover, the convenience of him leaving a voicemail for his therapist about why he wanted to marry Veronica (why exactly would he call his therapist to tell him about his epiphany? Who has that kind of relationship with their therapist?), and this woman’s decision to keep it from Veronica for a year seems weirdly contrived. Because it was.

However, to be fair, one could claim that the season mistreated some of its other characters, too. Tina Majorino who plays Cindy ‘Mac’ Mackenzie specifically noted that she did not want to return because she did not want her character to be sidelined. Similarly, the complexity to Eli ‘Weevil’ Navaro’s character was stripped away, as was the depth of his relationship with Veronica. What’s worse is that this could have been a really interesting storyline; why he decided to walk away from the court case which would have seen him awarded with compensation for what happened to him in the movie. While we are told that his wife left him along with his child, prompting him to return to his old gang-running ways, the depth of his grief and the reputable life he lost were never really portrayed. Honestly, I would have preferred that rather than the convoluted storyline that involved Mexican cartel hitmen.

But beyond my argument as a writer as to why Logan’s death was a totally unnecessary element to bring in, it also feels like a real slap in the face to fans. I’ve previously talked about the relationship this show has with its fans. Realistically, season 4…hell, the movie, only existed because of the love and support fans showed the show.

Any narrative material exists to interact with fans. Obviously, there is a fine line that can cross into blatant pandering, and there is also a trend that offers a ‘gritty’ or ‘sad’ end (ie the tragic death of the lover), but it’s a balance.

The Veronica Mars movie was very much fan service – it was, after all, fan funded. Much of the movie’s contents and storyline were determined by what Thomas was seeing from fan comments on social media, noting “I did have an idea of things people wanted to see, characters I wanted to get an appearance in, whether it felt extraneous or not.” He added, “there’s no way in the world we would have had a fan-funded movie and I would have killed Logan,” he added.

In the same interview, he said, “I fear that leaning into the high school soap that the show started out as is a losing proposition, that it will start feeling nostalgic rather than vital. If Kristen [Bell] and I want to make more of these Veronica Mars mysteries, I think it’s going to survive best as a true mystery show with a badass PI at the center of it, and I think that works better if the PI doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

Yet for a show whose who schtick was challenging the noir detective genre, it seems the prospect that someone fundamentally gritty and damaged can also have a relationship that the struggle to be healthy was simply a bridge too far.

And at the crux of it, what really frustrates me – as a fan, and as a writer – is that for Thomas, it simply felt too hard to give Logan and Veronica an enduring relationship, and it if wasn’t too difficult, then he perceived it destroyed some fundamental part of the show by making it emotionally sappy. If that’s the dichotomy in which Thomas thinks, then Veronica Mars is no longer the show which attracted its die-hard following of fans and may as well be a different show with a similar premise.

[mobius-prime]

253. Sonic the Hedgehog #184

Chaos Angel

Writer: Ian Flynn Pencils: Tracy Yardley! Colors: Jason Jensen

As Enerjak and Super Sonic take off to begin their epic duel for the fate of the world, their clash causes an explosive beam of light to shine so brightly it's seen as far away as Albion (which, if you'll recall, is located somewhere around the area of modern-day England, whereas we're currently closer to New York), which Nicole barely raises the New Mobotropolis shield in time to deflect. Super Sonic snaps Enerjak's staff, and when Enerjak blasts him with a wave of deadly energy in response, he casually reminds him that in his Super form, he's totally invulnerable, making this essentially a stalemate battle between two living gods. Below, Julie-Su is shocked that Sonic survived the blast, but Locke is grumpy and hopeless, saying again that Sonic should have let him kill Enerjak with the Brotherhood's weapon while they had the chance.

It's amazing how clueless and callous Locke is here. I mean, I expected nothing more from him, really, especially given that he has yet to reach the point of redemption that he did in the M25YL timeline on his deathbed, but still, he doesn't even seem to show a single ounce of remorse that this is what his son has become. As the battle rages on, the Destructix watch from somewhere else on the island, and decide they definitely don't want to get caught up in it (which, really, I can't blame them).

Scourge reveals his supercharged warp ring, with enough energy to warp them to another zone entirely, and when Fiona expresses some doubt about leaving Mobius he merely reminds her that the ongoing battle is a battle for the fate of the world, and it's better for them to take their chances elsewhere. She decides to tag along for some "fun," which is after all the reason she left Sonic for Scourge, while Super Sonic continues to try to beat some sense into Enerjak above. He manages to get a yell of "crunch time" from him, giving him hope that his plan to bring Knuckles back is working, but it's not fast enough, making him worry. Julie-Su and Archimedes teleport to the Master Emerald's shrine, which has mysteriously been transported from the Chaos Chamber to become a small island floating in its own right at the edge of Angel Island (it's literally not explained at all how this happened, but I'm assuming it's Ian's creative license to once again make the world of the comics conform to that of the games a little more). They confront Finitevus, who merely states that even if he wanted to stop this, he couldn't by now, as the hex he put on the Master Emerald totally enslaved Knuckles' mind when he tried to tap into its power. He's uncertain about why the hex didn't affect Sonic when he transformed, but is mostly unconcerned, as his plans are proceeding regardless.

Finitevus, I don't think you understand one bit what actual heroes are like. Julie-Su and Archimedes immediately start arguing over which one of them will die in order to bring Knuckles back, with a baffled Finitevus looking on. Locke then rounds the corner, having arrived unseen, and announces that he, in fact, will sacrifice himself, finally regretting what he has brought on Knuckles with his actions in trying to protect him from the devastated future he foresaw. Finitevus, enraged, leaps forward to attack the three of them in an attempt to stop them, but Archimedes grabs onto him and poofs him away, leaving Julie-Su and Locke momentarily alone. Locke sadly looks down at Julie-Su, and explains that for all their extreme methods, in the end the Brotherhood really did love every single member, and only ever wanted the best for Knuckles. Julie-Su begins to cry as Locke takes his place atop the emerald, and begins reciting Tikal's prayer one last time.

Okay, I'm just gonna say it. As much as I genuinely liked Locke's deathbed scene in M25YL, I think this is a much better version of his death, narratively. It's also ten times more heartbreaking. The last time Knuckles ever spoke to his father, Locke hit him with a thinly-veiled threat to his family's safety, and Knuckles punched the screen and screamed at him in response. And now, without a chance to ever apologize or say goodbye, Locke is gone, having sacrificed his life to save his son. I have never doubted for a moment that Locke truly does love Knuckles and has always done everything with the best of intentions, which is precisely why I always felt he would make a better villain than a hero. The Sonic series, as much as I love it, is sorely lacking in three-dimensional villains, with most being either like Eggman - wanting to conquer the world - or Finitevus - wanting to watch it burn. Locke, as I've gone over before, would have been a fantastic antagonist. I think it very true that the best villains are the ones we can relate to in some way. Loving your child and wanting the best for them is very relatable to many people, and permanently messing up your child because of trying to do the best for them is a very real fear for the majority of parents. And Locke realizing this at the end of his life and then giving up said life for the sole purpose of undoing everything he helped to cause is the logical narrative conclusion of this character arc. Because of this, I think Ian ultimately writes Locke much better than did Kenders, despite Locke being based on Kenders' father (which is why I kind of feel bad even saying this, but eh, I've already made the argument that he should have been a villain, I don't think I can make it much worse from here). And as sad as this is, it just gets worse as Knuckles regains his right mind and returns to the ground, asking Julie-Su where his father is. Julie-Su merely starts sobbing and babbling incoherently about how she couldn't stop him, and just as horrible understanding begins to dawn on Knuckles, Finitevus returns through a warp ring, incensed that Locke stopped his plans after all. He yells that with his luck, Knuckles will even remember his time as Enerjak, to which Knuckles furiously replies that he remembers -

An exit fitting for one such as Finitevus. Julie-Su tentatively says that they should head back down to New Mobotropolis to let everyone know that the day's been saved, but Knuckles curtly cuts him off, refusing and claiming that as the last living Guardian of Angel Island, he's never leaving this island again, and he'll guard the Master Emerald alone for the rest of his life. And thus, we've finally come full circle. Knuckles started out as the lone Guardian of the island with no one else to help him, and now he's become such once again. Come on though, man, for real - your father sacrificed himself so you could have your own life free of the destiny he's forced on you, don't immediately try to isolate yourself!

Anything

Writer: Ian Flynn Pencils: Tracy Yardley! Colors: Stingray Grafik Wurks

Well, there's still one loose end we have yet to tie up - namely, the fate of the Dark Legion. While those who were happy to be free of their cybernetic trappings were transported to Albion, those who regret losing them have remained with Lien-Da, who now seeks the help of a mysterious figure to get her people's way of life back. Her speech is actually quite fascinating, because for basically the first time we actually get to see what a lifelong member of the Legion thinks of their own history, without immediately being made out to be a cackling evildoer. Turns out… their position is kind of reasonable.

I mean, I did just go over why Locke, and thus by extension the Brotherhood, are not really good people. I don't think they're evil - misguided, more like - but it's clear that in the end, extremism was the name of the game on both sides of the technology debate, and if anything both sides have only gotten more extreme over the past several hundred years. Ultimately, while the Dark Legion has absolutely employed some really messed up methods in their pursuit of their goals, their actual ideology is not unreasonable at all. In the end, they really were just a group of people who didn't want to tacitly accept being thrown back to the stone age by their government, and rebelled when said government - a literal theocracy, if you'll recall - created an entire goddamn task force operating outside of the normal legal system to try to drag them all into a world without technology regardless. I mean, literally, think about it right now - if your government, after a bad incident with one scientist going nuts and trying to seize power, in response decided to ban all technology and mandate that everyone had to regress back to a medieval lifestyle, how many of you reading this, right now, would just accept it and give everything up? And how many more of you would say "No way in hell is this okay" and join a revolution? Use technology in secret, rebel, fight for your right to live life as a modern human being with modern comforts? The Legion was twisted over time into a force that fought for all the wrong reasons, looking for power instead of freedom, but in the end, they were more wronged than anyone else in this whole debate, and absolutely had a right to be angry over the way they were mistreated.

Lien-Da, treacherous nature aside, clearly does believe in her people's way of life, and so she crafts a deal with her mysterious contact - if he makes her the Grandmaster of the Legion, a title which she feels she deserves after watching her late brother and the decrepit Dimitri take the reins before her, she'll join his cause and have her soldiers act as his new ground forces since his were destroyed by Enerjak. Gee, I wonder who this mysterious figure could be? Ah, what the hell am I acting all coy for, it's Eggman, naturally, and he's more than happy to accept this deal. However, to Lien-Da's incredulous disappointment, the position of Grandmaster has already been filled - by none other than Dimitri! Yeah, Eggman's given him some upgrades, turning his dreadlocks into bizarre tentacle-like appendages sticking out from his head bubble. Aw, yeah, Eggman, no need to give him a proper body or anything like that, just give him hair tentacles, it'll be fiiine!

[wellthatjusthappend]

Ok, feel free to say no, obviously, but since you’re taking requests... I would KILL for Iron and Wine BruJay (after Dick leaves since you said that’s the option you went with for the story). If you don’t want to dig into an old fic, I get it. I could survive on some regular ol’ possessive BruJay, maybe a/b/o or mer if you want (I love your mer stuff too). Maybe B fights off a suitor and claims Jay himself (I don’t make a lot of asks... hope I gave you enough to work with ❤️)

No need for murder, I’m perfectly willing lol. 

Who's seen Jezebel?

(He) was born to be the (person) we could blame

Make me a beast half as brave

I'd be the same

-- Iron and Wine, “Jezebel”

Jason snuck out of the Manor the day he was sure Dick had truly left.

Apparently he’d fucked off to go mope with one of his many Bruce-replacements. Or something. Jason still didn’t know how to feel about those eyes on him. Wide and shocked whenever he caught them together. Hurt and confused and aroused and so so jealous. Jason would be a lot more pissed if he didn’t understand a little bit too well. 

Because one of these days, Bruce was going to come to his senses. 

Jason didn’t know when it’d happened: when his torment of Bruce had turned into addiction he could seem to let go of. Falling into bed with Jason was a little sin for Bruce to brood about on dark nights. But Batman never indulged in weakness for very long. Even Catwoman was sent to jail sometimes. One of these days, Bruce was going to efficiently cut Jason out of his life again. 

But Jason wasn’t going to wait around to be thrown away. Not again. Jason left on his own terms, nobody else's. He’d had his fun, now it was time to go before he could be cast aside for something much more appropriate. 

He wasn’t running away. He was taking control. 

It was hard to convince himself that when he was sitting alone in a new safehouse absently pressing against the finger shaped bruises on his wrists. Jason had barely been gone a day and he already wanted to go back. But that’s how addictions were, he reminded himself. It was good that he was putting a stop it now, before the feeling and emotional dependency got any worse. 

The game had seemed so simple at first; torment Bruce, make him hard for his former ward, and then leave him high and dry with his guilt.  Somewhere along the way, control had slipped out of his hands and into Bruce’s. It always fucking did. It made him feel small and cheap… never the first choice.

Well fuck Bruce. And fuck Dick Grayson too.

As if summoned by the thoughts, Jason felt a presence loom up behind him. 

“Get the fuck out,” Jason snarled, whipping around swinging. 

Surprisingly, it was Matches Malone- not Batman- who caught his punch. However, it was Bruce who was looking at him from behind tinted glasses. 

“We should talk,” he said gravely.

“What’s there to talk about?” Jason snapped, “You weren’t invited, now get out.”

“You didn’t even leave a note,” Bruce said stepping a little closer. 

“I never left a note before,” Jason said defensively, “Why should I have started now?”

Truthfully they both knew why; things had been different between them lately, but Jason sure as hell wasn’t going to admit to that now. 

“Are you coming back?” Bruce pressed.

“And why the fuck should I do that?”

“Your clothes are still in our closet.”

Jason knew. It had been haunting him a bit.

“Burn them.”

“Jason…” Bruce scolded him. 

“Maybe I got bored of you, Old Man, ever consider that?” Jason said, even as he was backed up against the wall. 

“Never,” Bruce said and kissed him. Jason snarled and bit him for his troubled but also pressed forward against his body instantly. He was so fucking trained at this point it made him hate himself a little more. 

Or maybe he just hated Bruce.

He wrinkled his nose at the scratch of the fake mustache against his mouth and took a moment to rip it off. That gaudy hideous suit had to go too, he thought as he kissed and worked on clumsily clawing it off. Bruce was making a quick work of Jason’s belt too, reaching those big big hands underneath to grip his ass just the way Jason liked. Jason moaned, his legs spreading just a bit automatically. 

In just a moment, Bruce was probably going to fuck him against the wall until Jason couldn’t think anymore and then find some way to bring him back to the Manor with him while Jason was stoned on his own enorphins. He’d fuck Jason over, just like he always did. Jason didn’t even know why he bothered if beautiful people like Dick would warm his bed in an instant. Maybe Jason was already too ruined for him to worry about. 

The thought was ugly and brought with it the comforting edge of anger that let him trip Bruce up and pin him to the floor instead. 

“Not this time, Old Man,” Jason hissed. He held Bruce’s arm behind his back, pulling his pants just far enough down to rub his cock along the crease of his ass. He felt Bruce tense and deliberately relax again.

It would feel so good to just push in, not just physically but emotionally. To hurt Bruce back for all the ways he hurt Jason. To punish them both a bit for… everything.

Bruce would let him do it. As usual that quiet acceptance and apathy hurt more than anything. In this moment, Bruce expected Jason to forcefully take him. To hurt him sexually and was prepared for just that. It brought up too many memories of his parents and that resigned look in his mother’s eyes when his father was working up to one of his rages. That he was going to hurt her but it was all okay because she loved him and he had permission- the right- to hurt her any way he liked. 

No one had that right.

Jason pulled away feeling sick to his stomach. 

“Jason…?”

“Stay away from me,” Jason said hoarsely as he tucked himself away. He saw Bruce turning over in the corner of his eye, but Jason couldn’t look at him. Instead, he grabbed his helmet and walked out the door. 

He’d have to find a better hiding place next time.

[flavourlessfiction]

Ice Melts When Heated ~ Chapter 3

Relationships: Jason Todd/Tim Drake

Rating: Mature

Tags: Alternate Universe - Skating, figure skating, Rivals, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies is a slight overstatement tho, Banter, Time Skips, Rating May Change

Ao3: x

Three sharp raps on his hotel room door. It couldn’t be the national representative who was effectively his handler for the comp. She’d left just ten minutes ago and they’d already selected him for the gala. God knows why. It wasn’t often that someone who finished in tenth got the opportunity to skate in the gala, especially when it wasn’t in their home country.

The knocking started again, Tim pushing himself up and slowly trudging towards the door. He was fortunate to end up with his own hotel room, although could one really be fortunate when they’d choked? Or when their coach picked a minor competition over the last major event before Worlds? “What can I-” He started to say, stopping dead in his tracks when he was met face to face with Jason. No, he did not need to spar with Jason right now, he’d had a bad enough day without listening to the winner gloat. “- fuck off.”

“Hey, wait!” Jason’s foot got caught in the door frame, preventing him from shutting the door in his face. He couldn’t just slam it on the foot either, it would look like he was attempting to take out his competition. “I know you don’t want anything to do with me right now but you can’t be alone after something like that.”

“Go away, Jason.”

“Come out with me, we’ll have some drinks and you can think about anything other than that skate.”

Of course, his idea of a good time was going out and getting drunk. Forgetting about the skate and Bruce was certainly a good idea but that didn’t mean it was the right thing to do, they had practice for the gala tomorrow, as well as the actual performance and showing up with a hangover wasn’t going to make him look any better in the eyes of the skating federation. “I’m eighteen.”

“The legal drinking age in China. Tim, we don’t have to go out or drink. I just don’t want you to be left feeling how I felt just because Bruce can’t see what his skaters need.” There was the first dig at Bruce, it was to be expected and if he wasn’t pissed off with Bruce he might have defended him. Bruce had allowed all of this to happen, however, and he wasn’t going to pretend like he could just move past it. Not tonight at least.

Lowering his eyes Tim opened the door wider, flinching as Jason gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. If it was anyone he liked it would have felt comforting but with the other it just felt so wrong. “You were injured, you didn’t just fall apart.”

“That’s true, but I shouldn’t have been allowed to skate. Just as you shouldn’t have been sent here without anyone. I’m not going to talk about that, get changed and we’ll go do something. You need a distraction.” That was probably fair, he’d already watched the skate twice in the time he’d been alone, not bothering to watch the scores or his reaction in the kiss and cry. He hadn’t exactly stopped feeling that way and it wasn’t about to change rewatching it for a third time. “Tim please, if they think you’re going to spiral they’ll force you to give up your spot at worlds. The best thing to do right now is at least look like you’re socialising and not panicking.”

“Okay,” He said, kneeling down in front of his suitcase. There definitely wasn’t going to be anything inside for going out to bars and clubs, aside from the suit he’d brought with him the nicest things he had were jeans and plain t shirts. They could work but it still didn’t leave him with many options. “Did it look as bad as it felt?”

“You hitting the boards multiple times or the breakdown,” it didn’t seem like Jason needed a response, the soft sigh that followed told him enough. “You just looked like you were in a lot of pain and this was the last straw. People might think you’re actually human now at least.” Quiet and awkward never translated to being robotic in Tim’s mind, but it was a joke that came out of multiple people’s mouths despite knowing him, despite the fact that he looked like anything but a robot on the ice.

It wasn’t important, his public image would never be the person he was even if he tried to remould it now. Everyone would still see him as a kid. “I’m surprised Talia isn’t up your ass for even trying to go out when you’re basically the main event tomorrow.” Thrown away, meaningless chatter, he just didn’t want it to be constant jabs at him or it to be talk about skating.

He didn’t need Jason to laugh about it though, and whilst his laughter was charming it wasn’t a welcome sound to his ears. “I disagree, I saw the music you’re using on the running sheet for practice tomorrow, are we seeing a return of girl Tim?”

“Uh, no. I’m doing a different version of the song.” There was a shirt that didn’t look like something he’d sleep in, keeping his back to Jason he shed his jacket and training shirt, hurriedly pulling the black ¾ sleeve shirt over his head. “And I know people will probably claim I’m going too many different exhibition skates in one season, but Dick did a new one every comp the year he won Olympic gold, so what does it matter?”

He wasn’t defensive, sure he knew plenty of people would say that if he had trained for the comp better; he wouldn’t have lost the way he did. Except it had nothing to do with that this time, it wasn’t new choreography, it was just a different version of the same song. “I think people will just be happy to see you skate, some people thought you really hurt yourself, in all honesty, you’ve got people in your corner.”

“I’m talking to you so that’s not accurate. Before you ask, Dick isn’t here because he couldn’t get a visa in time, which translation means he wasn’t given enough warning because everything’s so fucking disorganised lately.”

“Could he have gone to-”

“Yes.” He looked over his shoulder to see a tight-lipped Jason nodding, eyes averted picking up that Tim was just going to change in the middle of the room. Well at least he wasn’t going to have to awkwardly shuffle into the bathroom despite the fact that it was his hotel room. “I guess it’s appropriate that I hang around you, you’re kind of the master at being pissed off with Bruce Wayne.” It takes less than a minute and he’s sliding on a pair of shoes, looking like he was prepared to go out this whole time.

“Well if he tells you how mad he is about what happened, just tell him to eat a bag of dicks, this was his fault not yours.” He didn’t have to be friends or friendly with Jason, but he was right, he needed to be around someone, both for perceptions sake but so that he didn’t drive himself crazy. If that meant going to an obnoxious bar with music so loud that he couldn’t think, well then that was a positive thing. They didn’t need anything to say to each other, exiting the hotel, Jason looking at his phone briefly before setting off in the direction of wherever he planned on going, Shanghai had a nightlife scene of sorts, he was aware of that but he doubted there were clubs that were like American ones.  “Would you rather go to a club or a bar?” He’d rather go to neither but he’d agreed to come out and he wasn’t about to be a sulking mess the entire night, he already knew he didn’t look great, just by how his eyes felt from all the crying.

“I don’t mind, I can’t speak mandarin very well though, so unless you’re skilled in it we might want to go to a must see place for American tourists.”

“I thought you spoke fine in Hong Kong… Wait that’s Cantonese, okay I can understand. Don’t worry I’ve already got a place in mind but it’s more of a club.” He didn’t feel game enough to ask just what kind of a club and in truth he wouldn’t know where or what it was.

Just follow and look around at the sights nearby. Well it wasn’t quite following as Jason had fallen into step with him. He was still certainly the one guiding although even Jason was glancing at his phone every so often, obviously using a maps app to direct him. At least they weren’t going to get completely and utterly lost. Finding their way back might be a challenge depending on how drunk Jason got. He knew the hotel name so he could get directions back there if the other was completely useless. “Arkham?” Jason only laughed, how he found a place that held the same name as the prison in their home city was amusing but he was sure the choice in venue was based upon the proximity to the hotel. They’d walked for no more than ten minutes to get there.

Thankfully they didn’t have to wait long to get in and even less to get a drink. He didn’t question what it was, it looked well enough like a bottle of beer and he wasn’t all that focused on enjoying it. It was loud enough in here with EDM that if he stayed sober he’d end up with a worse headache than what a hangover could possibly give him. “Drink and have fun.” A hand sat at his side, Tim recognising the touch as less for the purpose of being comforting but to prevent him from stepping away due to the breath against his ear as Jason spoke to him, it being the only way they wouldn’t be completely drowned out by the music.

It wasn’t music he’d ever skate to, he’d once joked about skating to a Portuguese pop song but one look from Bruce told him that wouldn’t happen in a million years. In truth he knew Bruce was irritated enough by his exhibition programs but didn’t deny him them because they were just supposed to be for entertainment’s sake. Pop music had been a quick line in the sand however, although it could be because Dick had a few too many obnoxious pop skates of his own and Bruce wasn’t willing to indulge any of his skaters after Dick.

The first drink was finished quickly, and whilst it took ten minutes or so to hit, he could definitely feel it. That wasn’t to say he was already a stumbling drunk, merely that there was a warmth synonymous with mild intoxication that was undeniable. That hand was still touching him, although he’d made no effort to squirm out of the touch either. He was a foreigner here and whilst he wasn’t thrilled to be here with Jason he didn’t want to end up alone and stuck. “I’d love to know the truth to a rumour about you.” Tim shifted slightly as he placed the bottle on the table in front of him, motioning for Jason to continue. “I always thought you were gay but someone said you and Tamara Fox hooked up on the road at Stars back in July, which one is true?”

Now that was a complicated question. There were always rumours but that was one he hadn’t thought would get out. Either of them. “Sexuality is complicated, yes we did.”

“Would you date her?”

“No, I’m not interested in dating women.”

“So… you hooked up with her to see what it was like and to know if you are gay?”

“It’s complicated.” It felt like a pitiful excuse but he wasn’t going to explain it now, everyone always just assumed it was an experimental excuse that he was covering up his sexuality when in truth Tim wasn’t attracted to women for the purposes of relationships. “I’m getting another drink.”

His feet hurt, someone had definitely stepped on them or dropped something on them multiple times when he was on the dance floor. At least Jason hadn’t entirely left his side to allow him to do something stupid, but he’d given him some amount of space. Although he had grabbed him around three in the morning, he’d had what, five drinks in the few hours that they’d been there?

He wouldn’t say he was plastered by any means but he was a lot closer to that than being sober. It was probably why it took so long to get back to the hotel.

No! They were slower because his feet hurt! He couldn’t wait to lay down, Jason had an arm around him again, keeping him from stumbling and getting hurt. He was definitely doing a much better job at not looking like a complete and utter mess. Maybe he hadn’t drunk quite as much as he had. Although Tim could have sworn that Jason was at least one drink ahead of him. It wasn’t fair!

Although what had been fair about the past week or so? No, he didn’t want to think about it, if he did he’d just get mad or sad and he’d certainly cried enough in the kiss and cry earlier. “Why are you helping me?” He grumbled as he was ushered into an elevator, it was lucky there weren’t any officials hanging around in the lobby, there needed to be as little evidence about their inebriation as possible and that would be given up all too quickly if they were forced to talk to anyone important.

Jason seemed to ignore him at first, opening his mouth to ask again before he was smothered with and embrace, being backed into the corner of the tight space, the chatter of the people that had joined them explained a lot. There was nothing more uncomfortable than getting called out right now. “I understand.” It was soft, even for someone that should be drunk, Jason never exactly came across as the guy with good volume control but perhaps it was more based upon the fact that he tended to not care.

Ordinarily he would have shoved Jason away, told him not to touch him but it was comfortable, he might have been stuck in a corner but for someone he’d been rather scared of following what happened at the Grand Prix Final a few years back, Jason was the safest person in Shanghai. A thought that he’d probably be sickened by in the morning. The elevator door opened and their company left, Jason letting out a small hiss. “Fuck, your hands are cold.” His hands? Tim hadn’t been aware that he’d reciprocated the hug, a fact made more startling as he realised his hands were under Jason’s shirt, seeking out the warmth of skin on skin.

He wouldn’t have thought it to be a pleasant feeling, although Tim didn’t think too hard about these kinds of touches, they just weren’t important compared to how a doctor might touch a sore spot of the feeling of skin rubbing off in a new pair of skates. “Yeah… ‘m sorry.” The words weren’t quite slurred but they didn’t come out easily either. He didn’t bother taking his hands away though. Tim finding himself resting his head against Jason’s chest, it was only a few more storeys up but to be able to rest for even just a few seconds just felt right. He was by no means about to pass out and embarrass himself.

He was released the second the elevator stopped moving, Jason giving him a moment to straighten himself before stepping back. Tim didn’t think he swayed at all but the pitied look Jason gave him told him otherwise. He definitely needed some assistance, stumbling over the slight lip in the carpeting from the open elevator door. Irresponsible design plan rather than his own struggles in walking, but there was an arm around him once more, guiding him towards his hotel room door.

Their night was certainly coming to a decided end, not by his own choice but given they had to be awake for the practice in just a few hours’ time, awake and sober, he could accept his fate and sleep likely would come quickly. “Do you have your key on you?” Tim felt around his pockets, pulling out his wallet and handing it over to the other, it wasn’t like he couldn’t have gotten the card out but he could also acknowledge the fact that if he did there was a decent chance that if he did the rest of his cards would spill out.

They were inside quickly, Jason standing awkwardly at the door whilst Tim made his way over to the bed. Laying on his back as he tried to kick his shoes off. “Jay… Don’t leave.” It was almost breathless as though kicking the shoes off was a real struggle for him, as though he wasn’t a professional athlete.

“I need to go to sleep and you don’t seem like you’re great at sharing a bed.” That got him to sit up, his lips pressed in a thin line. He could stand up and drag Jason over but then again, he would likely fall over within two steps. He wasn’t going to be able to conquer getting changed into more suitable clothing either.

“You won’t know until you try.” Defiant, almost childish as though he was trying to prove a point. “Sends a fuck you message to others… to Bruce.”

“I also don’t feel like having hungover Tim killing me for drunk Tim’s poor decision making.” He wobbled as he rose, Jason taking two long strides to grab a hold of him, set him back down on the bed.

Jason mustn’t have expected what came next, Tim’s hand gripping at Jason’s wrist and pulling him down onto the bed, he didn’t make a noise but an outsider would be able to see that he was startled by the movement. “I’m not some mindless drone who can’t stick up for himself and doesn’t know what he’s doing.” He whispered, hovering over Jason. He couldn’t read his expression, in all honesty he didn’t want to.

It wasn’t about Jason, it was about him. About what he wanted, to do or otherwise. Their lips didn’t crash together, at first it was all Tim, kissing him forcefully and desperately, it not being returned until a begging, ‘please,’ slipped past his lips. What did he want? The back of his mind told him this was more than enough, a thought that was quickly shoved to the side by the greedy voice that wanted to take as much as he could.

Kiss, touch, breathe each other’s air. It was something he needed, a touch that was unfamiliar but felt so safe, unlike others there wasn’t this residual fear that he’d intentionally hurt him. In the past or the future perhaps there would be but not tonight.

Was this the actual reason why Jason wouldn’t let go of him for most the night? Not because he’d wanted to avoid one or both of them getting lost but out of interest in him? It didn’t matter. It was happening unless one of them stopped it and Tim had no interest in letting it stop. Jason might have tasted like whatever crappy beers they’d been drinking, mixed in with a sweetness that Tim had no idea where it came from. Truthfully Jason could have started drinking cocktails at some point and he wouldn’t have noticed, he’d stopped paying proper attention to him the moment he moved over to the dance floor.

Kisses moved from Jason’s lips to along his jawline and neck, pushing up his shirt at the same time. It didn’t last long. A frustrated groan escaped him as a firm hand to his chest pushed him away. He got it, keep it light, only for Jason to jerk his head away when he tried to kiss him again. “Tim, no.” He let his hand rest on the bed, not understanding why he was turning him down, perhaps his previous review of the night had been completely wrong.

“I’m not a kid.”

“I know how you’re feeling, you’re pissed off with Bruce and you think this will get back at him. I’m the gold medallist at being pissed off with Bruce but I’m not going to let you do this.”

“It’s not just about Bruce.” He wanted nothing more than to show Jason exactly what he meant but he wasn’t about to endure the humiliation of being rejected again. God, he shouldn’t have tried anything. Jason was right hungover Tim was going to be mad about drunk Tim’s decision making. “I’m going to go…”

He could hear Jason suck in a breath between his teeth as he stood, Tim glancing down expectantly for whatever opinion he had. “It’s your room.”

Oh, right. Better sit back down then.

“I’ll leave, get some rest and we’ll talk tomorrow, okay?” That probably wasn’t true, Tim already wanted to start avoiding Jason, well just earlier tonight he wanted to avoid everyone but had let Jason in after a few convincing words. “Tim?” He really didn’t want to respond.

He should though. “Yeah, I’ll sleep.”

“That’s not what I’m- okay, just make sure you set an alarm.” There was a wave and then he was gone. Alone again, it wasn’t as bad as earlier though, he was thoroughly exhausted now but he still had the sense to check that his alarms were set. Other things were not taken care of however, leaving the lights on and still dressed he allowed himself to crash.

Drinking had been a mistake, not because of the headache. That hadn’t been half as bad as he’d expected it to be. No the mistake came from the fact that he remembered every detail from the night before, it was humiliating at best and now he had to not recoil under Jason’s gaze, he couldn’t shy away without people realising Tim had tried to get with him only to be rejected because it had been interpreted as revenge.

It hadn’t been. He knew that much. He’d wanted comfort and his intoxicated mind told him that Jason was the person capable of giving him said comfort. That sex was the best form of comfort. At least he hadn’t forced conversation on him, but that was because the practice had been busy, there was still time to be backed into a corner, whilst they waited to skate or at the banquet later tonight. He should have just changed his flight and gone home a night early.

That wasn’t going to be any easier though.

Going back home meant showing up to the rink and that wasn’t something he wanted to face for quite some time. If ever.

At least the jumps didn’t feel as off today. He didn’t exactly have anything to prove to anyone and if he popped them well at least he landed them. That wasn’t entirely true, he now had to prove he didn’t have some sort of injury and that the mistake riddled free program was nothing more than a fluke. That they hadn’t put too many eggs in the basket of a younger skater when they could have taken up someone who had been solid for years even if those solid scores didn’t always guarantee a podium finish.

“Tim are you running through the skate or are you just winging it?” Laughter came from the several skaters that were on the ice, it wasn’t comment he would wing it but the last time he’d used the song he had claimed to be doing so. A thumb up was all that was needed for them to put CD in, the piano was in a different key compared to last time, the piano rather than the odd synth mix coming through that anyone that was a fan in the stands watching the practice would likely be recording it to put it online. There were no secrets when it came to music and that was why the first time they’d gotten away with it had been such a coup.

In truth it probably looked like he was winging it right now, marking certain patterns, making sure he didn’t risk having any clashes. He might have right of way but focus still lapsed and there were more people on the ice than normal. The only things he did full out were the spins and the axel with the falling leaf  flourish he’d put in there, purely to see if he could hit it. It didn’t feel quite right but he wasn’t going to let it weigh on him.

This was a Gala, it didn’t mean anything. It might be an emotional song but he was still entitled to have fun with it. He just couldn’t screw it up.

Iris Allen West    @WestFigures                                                1 minute ago

And I thought his original version of this skate made me feel things.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯            @PranceOn                                                            1 minute ago

BRUCE WAYNE’S PHONE ABOUT TO BLOW UP WITH THE MESSAGE THAT JUST GOT SENT!

Wally West        @WestSpeeds                                                       2 minutes ago

I was promised trash club beats! @Tricky-Dicky you lied to me!

Dick Grayson    @Tricky-Dicky                                                       30 seconds ago

Lies and slander!

Mel -> Shanghai @MelMonster                                                       2 minutes ago

JFC can he just do this skate forever. So many phone flashlights on.

Joker                     @MistahJSays.                                                      2 minutes ago

No one could possibly be entertained or enthused about watching Tim Drake skate.

Dick Grayson    @Tricky-Dicky                                                   3 minutes ago

God I wish I could be there to watch that live. Come home so I can force you to skate it 50 times over #TimTrash

Tim Drake Trash                @TinyTimTeam333                         3 minutes ago

ASDFGHJKL DICK IS TIM TRASH NUMBER 1

Skater Zoned                      @SkaterZoned                                    2 minutes ago

Your beautiful choreography always helps!

Tim’s Coffee      @JennyWeeps                                                  4 minutes ago

How many times are you going to make me cry this week Timothy?!??!

[bluboothalassophile]

Hello since it will be Jason's birthday tomorrow I was wondering if you could make a oneshot where Raven surprises him on his birthday and she accidentally confesses that she is in love with him

Hello,

Happy Birthday to Jaybird! We love him and Fuck DC for making him so damn miserable all the fucking time. Anyways here’s a piece for you’re request and I hope you enjoy the story!  There’s a part two to this as it fits a prompt request I have somewhere in my inbox. =)

Something We Want…

Occasionally Jason would, rather morbidly, dwell on how he’dgotten this far in life. He’d been killed, stabbed, beaten, blown up, tortured,discarded, and every time he somehow came back. He was starting to thinkhimself a cockroach or something, and not in a good way.

Getting home, to his safehouse apartment, away from everyonehe rolled his shoulder feeling the old aches from having been strung up for twomonths, his chest was itchy, and the scar on his face was throbbing. His rightankle was bothering him; he guessed there’d be a storm coming tonight, somehowthat was fitting. Also, there was this raging energy scratching beneath thesurface of his skin, it was annoying him enough that he had bid his family andfriends who had gathered for his birthday adieu and removed himself from thepremise of all their company.

Truth be told he was just overwhelmed at the sheer amount ofpeople there, and it was exhausting to him. People in general were exhausting.

Jason discarded his heavy jacket, jeans, boots, and shirt infavor of some low riding, ratty sweats, as he picked up a favored hoodie. He wasn’tsubconscious about the scars; it was hard to be when they were scars, but hedidn’t like people staring at them or him, so he didn’t undress around anyone;not even family or ‘dates’ anymore.

Kara had stared at his scars in disgust, Donna had looked inhorror at them, Rose had merely added to them, and his family… Fuck, them andhis friends stared at him with this unrelenting guilt; like the scars weretheir fault somehow.

“Okay, so I have Deadpool 1, 2, & 3, also I have Equalizer,all of them, and of course I brought your birthday present. I also got cake;don’t panic, I didn’t bake it, I picked it up from the baker we like,” Ravensaid as she walked through the shadows. “And I brought Beauty and the Beast,and I’ll hear nothing about it other than how much we like it, tomorrow you caninsist I forced it on you.”

“I wanted to be alone Raven,” he pointed out catching herhead and halting his much shorter friend. Her dark eyes flicked up to him asshe frowned.

“When have I ever left you alone when you want to be alone?”she demanded. She was unphased at the sight of his chest and body which had himdropping the hoodie as he flopped on his couch.

“You’re a bitch.”

“I’m a witch, keep it straight.” She dropped herselfunceremoniously into the seat that she typically claimed. “And I’m not leavingmy best friend alone for his twenty-eighth birthday.”

“Stop, you’re making me feel old,” he groaned.

“You are old, ancient according to Damian,” Raven frowned.

“Twerp barely decided on going to Berkley, he can come gripeto me about being old when he’s legally allowed to drink,” Jason stated.

“That’s terrible,” she said. “But true, and that brings meto the final gift of the night; a bottle of B’s finest whiskey, a gift from Selinato you, she handed it to me after nicking it from his stash.”

“It’s scary how close you are with my family.”

“Ah-ha! So, you admit they’re you’re family.”

“Merely a relation through adoption,” he grimaced as heshifted to get comfortable. His chest and scars were killing him right now.

“One of these days you’re just going to accept they’re family.”

“Are you part of that package?” he chuckled.

She snorted. “Fuck no, do I look Batty enough to be a Bat?”

“You look rather vulnerable as a little bird to be honest.”

“I’m Queen of Hell, hardly vulnerable,” she mused as she setup Deadpool.

“And I’m merely the Right Hand of the Queen,” he chuckled. “Rae,”his tone was serious as he looked at her, she turned as she cocked her head abit. Her long hair fell just so, the rays of the light made it violet ratherthan midnight, and her dark eyes looked brilliant blue then. His heart did thatfunny thing it’d been doing since he was sixteen and she would look at him likethat. “Thanks,” he smiled.

“Of course, what else are best friends for? Now move over, Iwant to sit right here,” she decided as she tucked herself so effortlessly intohis side, pulling his arm around her and she sighed as she made herselfcomfortable.

“Are you comfortable?” he chuckled as he assessed her.

“I am now,” she smiled.

He hugged her a bit tighter. “If I didn’t know any better,love, I’d think you were claiming a spot as girlfriend, what would Jerichothink?” he mused.

“Joe and I are over,” she stated unceremoniously which hadhim stiffening. “It wasn’t going to work with him mooning over some guy and noteven being with me to be with me. So I called it quits, besides, I don’t thinkI’m his type past platonic interests. We have a lot in common, but nothing lasting.”

“Do I need to go get Victor to help me beat the idiot blackand blue before burying the body? I know he’d more than willingly help me out,”Jason admitted.

“No, Joe and I are friends,” Raven reached up and touchedhis jaw. “Joe also said it’d never work as long as you and I were friends.”

Jason frowned at her. “You and I are best friends, and that’sall; if he thinks less of you because of that then he’s an idiot.”

“He doesn’t think less of me, he just thinks no one can competewith you in my life; which is utterly ridiculous as we know,” she shook herhead. “You’re my best friend, that means everything to me at times. You’repractically family for importance,” she admitted softly.

Jason said nothing as he watched the opening scene ofDeadpool and Raven magically summoned popcorn.

He was so fucking sunk. He could feel that much.

~~~*~*~*~~~

Raven lay there, securely against Jason’s side and enjoyedhis warmth.

What Raven didn’t tell Jason was that her and Joseph hadfought about him; again, as most their fights had revolved around herrelationship with him. Joseph had grabbed her and screamed it as best as hisdamaged voice would permit:

‘You Love Him!’

Those three words had hung heavy between them as they hadstared at one another, Joseph had been quick to sign his thoughts and furtherarticulate his evidence for this claim before he had smiled brushed her hairaside and kissed her brow. Then he had told her to go to Jason and they werestill friends, but they weren’t together. If they ever had been.

Raven didn’t know how to feel about this revelation.

Yes, Jason was a sexy mother fuck if she ever saw one. Hehad that bad boy persona wrapped up in tragedy and forged with hellfire, he wasthe only person she’d ever dare to say was her true equal; even if he wasn’t a ‘powerful’man, just a dangerous human, who was merely human. But more than that, he washer best friend. Since about day one there’d just been this instant connection,one she couldn’t explain, a familiarity as if he’d always been there.

True, the trust wasn’t there in the beginning, the sarcasmand distrust were evidence of that, but somewhere between that first meetingand that first mission of knowing each other they had gained true friendshipand trust in each other. Also, she picked him.

Raven always picked Jason. She had promised to pick him, buthe also made it easy because he was Jason. She got Jason, he was someone shejust understood. She didn’t need to sit there and analyze every nuance of hisemotions or expressions, something about him just made sense to her. It alwayshad. These past few months had kind of proved that to both her and Joseph andshe pressed herself closer to Jason. She took a few of his old aches from hisscars as she watched Deadpool.

She pretended not to notice the deep radiating emotions fromhim as she lay there. Frequently she had felt this emotion from him, she couldn’tname it, but it was almost peaceful.

But now she had a name for the emotion and she stared dumblyat the television.

“I love you,” she blurted out which had Jason freezingbeside her as his head snapped to her. His eyes pulsed that dangerous green,she stared at him levelly though. She knew that face, she knew his eyes, andfreckles, she knew that scar and those lips. She knew the scars, the stories.She knew him.

“Raven…” he started.

“I love you,” she repeated before he could doubt it and shetwisted a bit, pulling herself to straddle his lap. Raven carefully traced hischeek with her thumb and stared at his eyes as they pulsed green to blue. “Idon’t expect anything from this, Jason, I just… I want you to know, I love you.”

He said nothing but somehow his mouth was on hers, and hishands were on her hips as he dragged her closer. Raven didn’t squeak, shemoaned as she dove her fingers into his hair. Great Azar! This felt divine as hedeepened the kiss and she kissed him back. Fingers trailed over her hips andbeneath her shirt, his hands were on her skin and they moved upwards to the dipof her waist. They didn’t move as he circled his calloused thumbs over her skinand held her tight.

Jason groaned a bit as she pulled away from the kiss, mostlya groan of frustration as his lips trailed over her jawline.

“Jason,” she whispered as she felt her eyes flutter a bit.

“Raven,” he managed against her skin, his teeth traced overher jugular and instinct had her tilting her head to give him better access. Henibbled a bit on her pulse which had her humming a bit as she tried to movecloser to him. His grip kept her at bay though as his hands moved over herskin. “What are we doing?” he murmured against her skin.

“Something we want,” she whispered back as he finally sild hishands down to grip her ass as he dragged her closer. Raven gasped as shecrashed into his chest and then she kissed him again. Her tongue traced hisbottom lip as she slid her hands between them, over his skin, noting his warmth.

Tenderly she traced the symbol of the Arkham Knight, carvedinto his chest, skinned and grafted there, looking like an angry red burnthough it’d healed rather well in recent years.

“Rae,” he moaned his head fell back as she traced the scar,she watched his face as his eyes closed and he looked near pain and bliss.

“What do you want Jason?” she asked him.

His eyes snapped open, there was a pulse of green before shefound herself flattened on the couch as he loomed over her. Jason said nothing,his eyes were pulsing dangerously as he stared intently at her. “Raven this isn’ta game,” he warned. “You are my best friend, I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“You can’t,” she promised as she came up to him and kissedhim lightly. “I don’t know when, and I don’t know where, but somewhere betweenthe start to now I fell in love with you Jason,” she whispered against and shelet him fell it as she gripped him tightly, so he could feel it. He kissed herhard then as his hands gripped her hips and pulled closer to him.

“I think I wanted this too long,” he murmured.

She smiled as she traced his scars, his stories. Jason inhaledsharply before his mouth was on hers again, and his hands slid over her thighsas he made himself comfortable.

“Say it again,” he whispered.

“I love you,” she admitted as her hands traced his theragged scars on his spine.

[bat-losers-inc]

Collisions in the Dark (Ch 6): Gambit

Warning: dub-con

Summary: In the aftermath of his night with Jason, Tim learns many things. Like the target of Ra’s attack and that he might not know Jason as well as he thinks he does.

Pairing: Jason Todd/Tim Drake & Ra’s al Ghul/Tim Drake

Chapter Notes: Gambit: A sacrifice (usually of a pawn) used to gain an early advantage in space or time in the opening.

“Please keep him safe. Let him lay his head on my chest and we will be like sailors, swimming in the sound of it, dashed to pieces.” — “Saying Your Names”, Richard Siken.

The room was cast in darkness when Tim was awoken by Jason’s hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. Tim stirred, shifting his cheek from Jason’s naked chest to search out the other boy’s face in the dark. Tim grimaced at the slick feeling of sweat that coated his cheek, wiping it away with his hand.

“You need to head back.” said Jason, his steady voice and straight posture suggesting he’d been awake for awhile.

Tim’s eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness of the room and he could now see how Jason would not hold his gaze. Had he had another nightmare? Tim had only witnessed one of Jason’s nightmares once and Jason had never told Tim what it had been about after Tim had woken him. He could imagine Jason waking in fright, limbs jerking as the paralyzing hold of sleep released him, only to lie still and wait for his heartbeat to calm as Tim slept soundly on the other boy’s chest. It was definitely something that Jason would do and it irritated Tim that Jason wouldn’t want to wake him and talk about it.

Then again, Tim realized, why should he? Tim had no claim on Jason, in fact... they barely knew each other as far as their personal lives went. If it wasn’t jeopardizing the mission or their secret identities, then it didn’t need to be shared with the rest of their family. Tim guessed that Batman’s emotional repression had rubbed off on all of them and for better or worse Tim would just have to deal with it.

“I don’t want to go back to him.” Tim admitted.

Jason rubbed at the dark stubble that lined his jaw. Was he going to grow a beard to match the locals who lived in this frozen landscape?. “Tim… you have to.”

Jason’s words betrayed how tired he really was, though Tim was not sure quite yet if it was emotional tiredness or physical. Probably both, thought Tim. If he knew anything about Jason he was worried about the events to come today and the future implications of that.

“Are you thinking about that family? Was that what the nightmare was about? Are you worried that you’re going to have to do something bad to them?”

Jason’s eyes flicked to his face for a moment, just long enough to show Tim his suspicious surprise. “Don’t you worry about my nightmare. It’s an old wound, nothing I can’t handle.”

And Tim flashed through the possibilities, oh how there were so many. The Joker…  the explosion…  his burial… the pit. There was a Lazarus Pit hidden somewhere deep in this mountainous compound. Ra’s wouldn’t feel safe dwelling here if there wasn’t. Did Jason know about it? Did it scare him being so close to it again? Once you’ve been resurrected by the pit there’s no way to use it again. You get one extra life with an added dash of pit rage, but it was still only one life. If you die again after that…  that’s it. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.

“Ra’s is expecting you to do whatever it takes to make the doctor work for us. Even if that means hurting his family.” Tim warned him.

“I won’t hurt that child.” Jason objected instantly.

“I know,” said Tim. “I’ll make sure to keep the girl out of the way and out of Ra’s mind as much as possible. But you might have to hurt the mother…”

Jason shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve hurt a civilian to get what I needed.”

It didn’t sound like something Jason admired in himself. He sounded a bit disgusted by his actions, but he also seemed to have come to terms with them.

“Not to sound like a broken record here, Tim, but you need to head back. Like seriously, you’re already risking your skin staying here this long.”

Tim slid out of Jason’s bed and started to pull his clothes back on. He found Jason’s clothes in the same pile where they’d been shed the night before and tossed them to him. “I told Ra’s we’d try talking to Dr. Stafford again today, this time with his wife and daughter. If we go there now and Ra’s questions me when I return to our room then he won’t suspect anything. I’ll just be following his orders.”

“That’s a weak out, especially for you, Tim.” Jason paused to pull his shirt over his head, his bed head springing loose once his head cleared the collar. “But I’m inclined to let you have it for once.”

He hopped into a pair of jeans, slipped on shoes, and made an honest attempt to tame his messy locks though it didn’t seem to do him much good.

Finally, he sighed.  “Let’s go see that family.”

They walked side by side down the dim hallways that turned Ra’s large compound into a confusing maze. It was only when they reached the lower levels that it became almost impossible to continue on as they had because of the traffic of people that passed by them.

Tim fell back behind Jason after that, Jason’s tall frame and broad shoulders blocking his view of anything in front of him. He would have liked to see the path they were traveling in case he had to return here by himself. Once again, Tim cursed his short stature.

They arrived at a gate and Jason nodded a greeting to the guards stationed in front of it. “Pemba. Tashi.”

The two guards returned his greeting with silent nods and unlocked the gate to let them pass through. Tim took notice of the old fashioned ring of keys in the guard’s hands. For all of Ra’s’ high tech in the command center, he was strategically low tech with some parts of his security. If Tim had to venture a guess, the only places with one set of keys to unlock them were probably here and the lazarus pit. Ra’s would not be foolish enough to risk those to any more than a few people.

They heard the the voices before anything else. The light cadence of a mother’s voice as she sang to her daughter. Jason paused at the sound of it, just for a second, long enough for Tim to figure he didn’t want to disturb the moment. He watched as Jason clenched his fists and continued on.

The mother heard the sound of their footsteps on the stones. Her voice was an urgent whisper as she hushed her daughter. “ — quiet for Mommy.”

A few hiccupping breaths were the only response she got. Jason shoved the bar across and yanked the cell door open. Mrs. Stafford was crouched on the dirty floor of the cell and recoiled to the far wall when she saw Jason standing over her. “Please…”

She didn’t bother saying anymore, for even Tim could see that she didn’t know what to plead for. He had no doubt that any past cries from her had gone on deaf ears down here.

“Do you remember me?” asked Jason. His voice was soft, entirely devoid of force to keep the woman calm and at attention.

She nodded.

“This is my friend, Tim. He’s going to be taking you to talk to your husband. You’re going to convince him to start working.”

“Why?” The woman’s voice was thick with confusion but Jason continued to talk over her unasked questions, trying to keep her focused.

“You’re going to remind him that the safety of his family depends on his involvement. That the longer he resists, the more he is putting your life and the life of your daughter in danger. Please, do not make me hurt you or your daughter.”

Jason seemed to have said all he needed to, for he shifted aside to let Tim through the doorway. Tim took the mother by her elbow and lead her out into the hall.

“Mommy!” a high voice cried out from another cell. The woman jerked around in Tim’s hold, swiping matted blonde hair away from her eyes as she found the cell her daughter was in, though she was too small to be seen through the window.

“Tim, go now. Cell 58. The guards there will take care of it from there.” Jason urged, voice loud over the continuous cries of the girl. Tim was quick to tighten his grip and tug the mother farther down the hall.

Mrs. Stafford did not put up any struggle as Tim lead her down the hall, her gaze turning back every once and awhile towards the way they had come, though they had walked far enough now that the voices of her daughter could no longer be heard. It did not take long after that for her to regain her composure.

“What are you two doing here with these people? You’re still children, you shouldn’t be tied up with terrorists.”

Tim scoffed a laugh at the idea of anyone calling Jason a child… or himself for that matter. Sure he had people in his life who cared about him, but none of those people had ever stopped him from risking his life.

“Jason’s not a child. He’s 21 and I’m 18. We’re old enough to understand what we’re doing. We can take care of ourselves.”

He was hoping that the sternness of tone would dissuade her from further discussion, but it only seemed to anger her more.

“You’re a child. ” she spat, coming to a stop so sharply that she nearly broke Tim’s grip on her. “And just like every child does you think that you’re invincible, but at some point something horrible is going to happen and you’ll know that you were the cause of it. You’ll be all alone and then you’ll wish there was someone there to take care of you.”

Perhaps you’re right, thought Tim but he said nothing. Instead he pulled his gaze away from Mrs. Stafford’s cold expression and directed it ahead of them. He tugged on her arm to continue forward. Cell 58 was in a small hall all on its own with another pair of guards monitoring the door.

They stepped forwards when Tim came towards them, grasping the woman by either elbow. Tim stilled the guards before they opened the cell door.

“Talk to your husband,” he urged. “and when you’re done knock twice on the door and your be returned back to your daughter.”

Tim specifically did not say “cell” for fear that she wouldn’t follow their orders. If she thought she was being reunited with her daughter after this, then perhaps she really would try to convince her husband to start work on the device. Tim, of course, could not fulfill this promise but he also did not want to deny Mrs. Stafford hope that her family would remain safe.

When Tim returned back to where Jason was waiting for him, he was surprised by the scene that laid before his eyes. The Mrs. Stafford’s cell door stood open still as they had left it, waiting for her to be returned to her cell, but open also was the daughter’s cell. Jason’s voice carried through from inside the small room.

“Shhh, didn’t your mom tell you to be quiet for her? You’ve got to be strong for her. How about I sing you a song like she did, would that make you feel better?”

There was a short silence that followed where Tim could not guess what the girl had answered with, but a moment later Jason’s voice started to sing quietly, so Tim knew the answer. The song was vaguely familiar, a rock song turned acoustic by the slow lull of Jason’s voice. Tim knew he’d heard it long ago but couldn’t remember the band or the song name.

Jason sang without hesitation, knowing that the girl was not old enough to truly understand the lyrics. He let his voice rise and hum, the part of him that recalled his own childhood remembering that it was the tune of the song that mattered more than the words themselves.

Tim crept forward until he could see Jason sitting on the ground next to the little girl, one of his calloused hands stroking the back of her head, his own head tilted back against the wall eyes cast up at the ceiling. Jason hummed the tune for a line, and tried to fill in the spaces with bits of lines that he could remember.

Tim blinked and froze at the realization that Jason’s eyes were now on him. Jason’s voice faded off and his hand stopped stroking the girl’s hair.   “I didn’t mean to—”

Jason gave a small shake of his head, looking tired. “It’s fine.”

But as Jason rose to his feet and watched the little girl curl up like a cat on the warm spot he’d made on her mattress, Tim couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d interrupted something deeply personal for Jason. And he knew instantly that it was a type of intimacy that Tim had never shared with Jason, even with how close they had recently become. Tim had followed him when he was Robin, he’d saved his life, shared his bed… but he did not know the Jason that sang to little kids. Perhaps Bruce had caught glimpses of that Jason years ago, but Jason made sure that no one else did nowadays.

He closed the cell door quietly and locked it, not looking at Tim when he said, “Let go. It’ll be awhile yet before the guards return Mrs. Stafford to her cell and longer till we know if the doctor will cooperate.”

“Doctor Stafford began work this afternoon. I brought the finished blueprints with me if you’d like to look over them together.” It was dark again when Tim was able to tell Ra’s the news and Tim realized he had passed the whole day away without seeing the light of day. Most of his time had been spent hanging around the lower levels of the compound where the cells were situated and the rest of the time perched on a stool under the fluorescent lights watching Mr. Stafford start his work. Getting to see the blueprints before Ra’s, though, had been well worth it. At least now he knew the size of the device and it’s potential range of effect.

Ra’s smile was genuinely gleeful, but that did nothing to calm Tim. “I told you Jason would do what needed to be done.”

“I guess we won’t know until that actually happens. The wife was the one to convince the doctor. We sent her in to talk to him and whatever she said must have worked. I’d be careful not to mistreat her if she has that much persuasion on her husband.”

“I believe you’re right. We should reward the woman. Tomorrow I’ll tell the guards to put her child in a cell with her.”

“That’s awfully nice of you.” said Tim, but then realized that though the mother and daughter would be together it could not distract them from the fact that they were still locked in a cell. Just like me and Jason, he thought, two prisoners locked together in this compound. We’re no freer than they are.    

“I told you I can be a lenient man, Timothy. I knew that it upsetted you to keep them apart, so I’m easing your conscience now that you’ve come through for me. “ Ra’s smiled. “But, I believe that one favor should be repaid with another and it is past time that we sealed our agreement.”

Of course he did, for Ra’s never did anything that was not in his favor. He took Tim’s hand. Tim allowed himself to be lead towards the bed. His mind already detaching itself to reside within memories of last night. His memory of the night was still fresh and it took no effort at all of pretend that the hands removing his clothing were Jason’s, wrinkled because he’d just gotten out of the shower instead of from old age. The stubble that rubbed Tim’s neck and chin raw was the beard that Jason had grown during his time here.

With thoughts of Jason’s muscular form in his mind, of him flexing over Tim as Jason panted and whispered his name in Tim’s ear, Tim’s body did not betray him. Neither did his words as a different man than the one in his mind thrusted within him. Tim dug his teeth firmly into his bottom lip, blocking off the name that threatened to pass from his lips, knowing it would condemn him if Ra’s were to hear it during such an intimate moment. His heart pounded in the same frantic beat as Ra’s own when the older man collapsed on the bed next to him, but for an entirely different reason.

Ra’s pulled Tim’s back against his chest, his arm firm against Tim’s torso. “You were just as beautiful as I’d thought you’d be, Beloved.”

Tim’s eyes closed tightly. He pressed his face deeper into the pillow under his head, his mind already thinking of another place to inhabit for the rest of the night. He thought back to the low croon of Jason’s voice bringing the sound of it into the front of his mind and trying to recall the words.

“I’ll look forward to having you at my side when we strike New York.”

Tim’s eyes flashed open, all thoughts of Jason vanishing from his head at Ra’s words.

“New York?” he asked, hurrying to turn around in the small room Ra’s embrace allowed.

When he came face to face with Ra’s, the older man smiled and shrugged. “You had been asking where the target was, weren’t you? New York City. We’re going to plant the weapon inside the UN.”

Tim swallowed around a suddenly dry throat. “We’re going to attack the UN.”

And once again Tim went another night without sleep.

[chibinightowl]

No, I absolutely, absolutely lied. Wrong number. I didn’t see that the first time around because I was searching to hard for a nice hurt/comfort prompt.

You want hurt, Nyk? Here’s some hurt. I think this is the most painful thing I’ve ever written.

~*~

It starts with a wrong number. Jason lays beside Tim, still wrapped up in him, breathing the same air. But Tim, always the businessman, picks up his phone and answers it.

After a moment, he replies with “Sorry, I think you have the wrong number.” The other person must apologize or something because Tim chuckles and says not to worry, that it happens.

He puts down his phone and turns his attention back to Jason.

But he’s distracted, not all there when normally lavishing his love and affection on the other man is something he attends to with laser sharp focus and intensity.

It happens again the following week when they’re making dinner together. And then again the week after that when they’re trying to watch a movie.

Jason doesn’t think anything of it. Wrong numbers happen after all.

Time passes.

One evening, Jason is making dinner and his phone rings a familiar tone. “Hey, handsome. What’s up?” he asks, not even looking as the screen.

“Hey, babe,” Tim answers. He sounds tired.

Jason knows what’s about to come. There’s only one reason why Tim would be calling at this time of day. “How late you going to be?”

“Hopefully just a few hours. Stupid quarterly report.”

“Take your time. I’ll save your dinner.”

“You’re the best. Love you.”

“Love you too.” Jason hangs up and continues making dinner. He eats and then spends the evening working on his thesis. Tim works hard to keep a roof over their heads while he’s in graduate school and Jason can’t wait until he’ll be able to return the favor and balance out their workload. For now, he keeps house and works a few nights a week for their grocery money.

He loves Tim, he really does. They’ve been together for three years now and he has plans to make that permanent when he’s got his master’s degree. Jason never thought he’d ever find someone he would want to share the rest of his life with but Tim makes it all too easy to see the possibility.

Tim is late coming home next week too. And the week after. And the week after that. Jason asks what’s going on and Tim just shakes his head. “Work bullshit. Damian is a pain in my ass.”

Damian Wayne is Tim’s boss. The tyrannical demon son of Bruce Wayne that only Tim ever seems able to manage and keep from creating a PR nightmare.

“Can I help with anything?” Jason asks, rubbing Tim’s tight shoulders. His boyfriend leans back into the touch like he always does and gives him a slow smile.

“I can think of something else you can rub.”

“I think I can do more than just that.”

One night a week changes into two.

Jason doesn’t think much of it. But one day when he’s sorting laundry, he finds a movie ticket stub in the pocket of Tim’s pants. He looks at it curiously because they haven’t been to one in a while. The date is from two days before.

The last night Tim said he was working late.

His heart sinks as a niggling thought enters his mind. No, there has to be an explanation. There has to be. But if Tim is lying to him about staying late for work, then what else is he lying about?

Rather than calling him out, Jason decides to wait and see.

The next time Tim calls and says he’s going to be late, Jason offers to bring him dinner.

“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s rush hour and traffic sucks,” Tim says quickly.

“I don’t mind, Timmers,” he replies easily. “You’re the one working hard, it’s the least I can do. Besides, the subway into downtown isn’t too bad. It’s coming back out that’s a mess.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Tim comes back with. “I think Damian is ordering in dinner for us anyway.”

“If you’re sure?” Jason checks.

“I’m sure. I’ll be home as soon as I can. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Jason hangs up and sets his phone down. After a moment where he stares blankly at nothing, he grabs an empty coffee mug and throws it hard against the kitchen wall. It shatters to pieces. He’s breathing hard, and his fists are clenched so tightly his knuckles already ache. He wants a fight, he wants to hit something.

But instead, he cleans up the mess he made.

The next week, Tim is home on time every night. Everything is perfectly normal and Jason finds himself wondering why he’s being paranoid in the first place.

Next week is more of the same. But on Friday, Tim announces he has to go on a trip Monday with Damian. “It came up at the last second. We have to go to San Francisco for a few days.”

Jason tries not to feel nervous. “Want me to take you to the airport?”

Tim smiles and draws him in for a kiss. “That would be great.”

Monday comes and Jason drops Tim off at the private terminal. He sees Damian already waiting so he instantly feels better about everything. It’s fine. This is a legitimate trip. He doesn’t have to worry about anything going on there, as Damian is barely 18.

Jason goes about his routine — classes, reading, and too much writing. Tim calls him in the evening and they talk about their respective days.

On Wednesday, he gets a call earlier than usual. “Hey,” Tim says, slightly breathless, like he’s in a rush. “This is taking longer to wrap up than Damian thought. I’ll probably be gone until next Tuesday.”

Cue the anxiety. But Jason tries hard to keep calm and tells his suspicious side to take a hike. It’s work. This has actually happened before because Damian is shit at negotiations. “Man, there goes that nice dinner I was planning.”

“I’m sorry, hon. Did you go to the store already?” Tim sounds a bit sad.

“No, I was going to after class.”

“Well, do it anyway and treat yourself. Damian’s giving me a bonus for this out of his own pocket so I’ll move some funds for you.”

“Okay. Love you, babe.”

“I love you too.” Tim hangs up.

Jason stares blankly at his phone and sets it aside. Something about the conversation was off and he can’t quite pinpoint what.

It’s not until later that he realizes what it is and he puts his fork down heavily. Damian hates traveling over the weekend. He’s a homebody at heart so unless something is royally fucked up, he would come home regardless.

He waits until Friday evening to call Damian. As Tim’s boyfriend, the young Wayne heir knows him, albeit not well enough to chat more than casually with.

“What is it, Todd?” Damian’s lightly accented voice answers the phone. “I’m busy.”

“I know, and I’m sorry for bothering you.” Jason takes a deep breath and takes the plunge. “I haven’t heard from Tim tonight so I was wondering if he’s staying late with you again.”

There’s a long pause. “He’s not here. I’ve been home since yesterday morning. Drake said he was meeting you in Las Vegas for a long weekend. Something about a surprise.”

“Fuck,” Jason swears and this time, he punches the wall. He does it again. And again, not noticing the hot tears that burn in his eyes.

“Todd,” Damian’s voice calls him back to the present. “Drake, he…whatever is going on, I swear to you, I did not know. I’m…I’m sorry.”

Jason tries to calm down enough to ask one burning question. “Has Tim been staying late at work at all over the last few months?”

“Only twice that I know of.” Damian pauses and then growls in frustration. “He’s been using that as an excuse?”

“Yeah.”

“I wish to have no part in this,” the young businessman pronounces. “But I can’t have my personal assistant lying to me too.”

“Lemme talk to him first,” Jason says, his voice choking up. “I deserve that much.”

“You do,” Damian agrees quietly. “Todd, I…take care of yourself. Good luck.” He hangs up quickly.

Jason spends the weekend alternating between a debilitating funk and burning rage. What did he do? What did he do that made Tim so unhappy that he felt he had to go elsewhere to find love? Or is it just sex? They’re not exactly vanilla in bed as both of them like to spice things up. Is it the thrill of it all? That Tim has someone on the side and is successfully managing to keep Jason in the dark?

Most of the coffee mugs are broken by the time Monday morning rolls around. There’s a hole in the wall from where Jason punched through it. His knuckles are bandaged from the damage.

He forces himself to go to class. Nothing sticks, not that it matters; he’s read it all before. That night, Tim texts him rather than calls to let him know what time he’ll be home Tuesday. He’s been silent all weekend. Jason glares at his phone but manages to type out an acknowledgement and ask how things are going.

Two quick replies come in, saying he’s fine, that it’s been a busy weekend of schmoozing. And that he’s sorry for not calling, claiming the time zones as an excuse and not wanting to wake him.

Jason tosses his phone on the sofa and promptly goes to the bathroom to vomit.

He doesn’t sleep that night. When morning comes, he walks mindlessly around the apartment, slowly taking in the little things that make this place a home. A soft throw pillow that Tim insisted on. An afghan over the back of the sofa. Pictures of the two of them at Disneyworld last year.

All of it feels fake. Wrong.

Jason decides he can’t stay here. Not anymore. He calls Roy. “I need a place to crash for a while.”

“Of course, Jaybird,” Roy says without hesitation. “What’s going on? You and Tim fighting?”

Jason closes his eyes. Perhaps if he says it quickly, it won’t hurt as much. “Tim is cheating on me.”

“That motherfucking bastard. Get over here, right now. I’ll tell Kori.” This is what Jason loves about Roy. He doesn’t question, he doesn’t doubt his claim. They’ve been best friends for years and never once has he ever failed at having Jason’s back.

“I need to confront him first. He’s been out of town all weekend.”

“Need me there?”

“No, I have to do this myself.”

“I’m clearing the guestroom now. Lian will love seeing you.”

“Her hugs are the best. Next to Kori’s.” Jason rummages though the closet for his duffle-bag. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Packing all his personal belongings is something he never expected to have to do. He leaves all the things Tim purchased for him, along with mementos. His laptop he’s torn over but he needs it for a few more months. Sucking up his pride, he packs it too.

Tim arrives home two hours later. Outwardly, he’s the tired businessman, his suit slightly wrinkled from travel. His carry-on is slung over his shoulder and he’s got a large suitcase he wheels in behind him. He smiles tiredly at Jason. “Hey, handsome. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

He drops his bag and wraps his arms around Jason in an easy hug like he always does.

But Jason doesn’t hug him back. He stands stiffly and inwardly rages over his desire to touch Tim and embrace him in return. He can’t. Not anymore.

Tim picks up on his uneasiness. “What’s wrong?” he asks, drawing back.

“You weren’t in San Francisco this weekend.”

“What are you talking about?” Tim asks, smiling gently. “Of course I was. Damian had me going all over the place…”

“I talked to Damian on Friday. He said you were in Las Vegas with me.” The words come out easier than Jason expects.

The smile falls from Tim’s face and he takes a step back. “Jason, I…”

“Just tell me why. What did I do?”

“You did nothing wrong, Jason.” Tim doesn’t deny it anymore. Not now that he’s been caught redhanded. “I tried not to do it but I couldn’t stop. I just…couldn’t ignore him.”

Him. Another man. Jason’s eyes burn and he shakes his head. “How long did you expect to get away with it? Does this other guy even know about me?”

“He does.”

“Fuck you.” Jason glowers, trembling with rage. “You must have been laughing at me the entire time. Both of you. Poor Jason, completely clueless about what’s going on around him. Fuck you!”

“No! It’s not like that at all!” Tim shouts, trying to defend himself, but Jason waves him off brusquely.

“It doesn’t matter. Not anymore. Goodbye, Tim.” He picks up his bag, hidden alongside the sofa where Tim couldn’t have seen it.

“Jason!” Tim grabs his arm, trying to haul him away from the door. “Wait. Let me explain.”

He shoves him off. “You lost the right to explain yourself as soon as you cheated on me. Enjoy fucking this other guy without having to worry about me.”

“Jason!” Tim shouts again, but Jason is out the door and walking down the hall. “Jason! Please! I love you!”

“Liar.”

[unavenged-robin]

Hey! You're writing is really fantastic! I was wondering if you could do something angsty with Dick and Damian. Please? I love your stories!

Thank you! And what a combination! Write angsty things with Dick and Damian is exactly what I was put on this earth for. (Well, this is more nostalgic than angsty but humor me, okay?) (Also one of the things I like to think about to make myself sad is grown-up!Damian giving up Robin, so here you go, have some completely unnecessary angst) (Last parenthesis, I promise. This story can be a very, very loose sequel of this one. If you need more angst, that’s it.)

For some reason, the sound of knocking has always made Dick feel uncomfortable. Maybe it has something to do with his days as a policeman, when he had to knock at some stranger’s house to give them one of the protocolled bad news speech. Or maybe it’s just the ominous feeling of the unexpected waiting on the other side of the door, like a sense of predestination, of destiny in progress.

Maybe he’s just tired.

He finds Damian waiting on his doormat, a box under his arm, a backpack over his shoulder, and the hint of a nervous smile on his lips. Dick feels something tighten in his chest, another silent warning that something’s wrong, that there are bad news coming for him too. He smiles anyway.

“Hey, kiddo.”

The nickname rolls out of his mouth as easily as Damian steps into the invitation of his open arms. And it’s still such a weird feeling to not be able to enclose him completely into his hold anymore, to have to settle with wrapping an arm across his shoulders and the other around his waist instead, because Damian’s taller than him now, and thicker too. Not quite as big as Jason yet, but getting there.

Scrawny ten years old or bulky eighteen, Dick’s affection for this kid is still all there, warming him through like sunlight on a winter day. Damian smells like expensive leather and Bruce’s aftershave, and that too makes Dick feel warm. He’s not been home in months, dragging his whole attention from a solved case to the next one, barely giving himself enough time to catch his breath, or a good night of sleep. It’s an old, unhealthy cycle he’s very familiar with, and still one he has trouble fighting or even identifying without the intervention of someone else. And right now, with the solid weights of Damian’s body pressed against his, he feels more grounded that he’s ever been in weeks.

“Do you plan to release me at some point tonight?”, Damian asks, but he doesn’t put in enough sarcasm to cover the amusement and the fondness in his voice. They haven’t seen each other for too long.

Dick laughs at that, and squeezes his brother a little tighter before letting him go.

“There, you’re a free man again”, he jokes. “Now come inside. Did your policy on beer changed since the last time I tried to get you drunk?”

Damian hesitates on the doorstep, the wrinkle between his eyebrows deepens, and he licks his lips before answering.

“Yeah, I’d like a beer, thank you.”

The comfortable, domestic bubble around them shatters just like that, and the churning feeling in Dick’s guts comes back to torment him, to remind him that family is always a bittersweet affair, that Damian has the kind of look in his eyes that usually heralds a storm. Dick glances again at the box under his brother’s arm and hides a sigh behind another smile. It’s not like he wasn’t expecting it, after all. He was just kidding himself.

“Good”, he answers, stepping aside to let Damian in. “I feel like I’m gonna need one too.”

Damian takes a step forwards and looks at him, and immediately relaxes as he realizes that Dick already knows, that he’s not angry nor disappointed, and that he’s not gonna try to talk him out of it. It hurts a little bit that after all these years Damian’s first reaction is still being defensive, that he still expects a blow instead of a hand on his shoulder, but Dick tries not to take it too personally. They’re all like that. Some of them just hide it a little better.

“Let’s sit outside, mh?”

-

Climbing on a rooftop with only one hand is no challenge to either of them. Not spilling the beer is the real difficult bit for Dick.

“You could’ve waited to open it, you know?”, Damian nags at him, leaning back on his elbows.

Dick shrugs and takes another sip before sitting down beside him.

Summer has not yet begun, but the smog from the cars and the factory fumes already make the nights soggy and sweltering, and only high up in the sky the air is clear enough to breathe without wheezing. And if that’s Blüdhaven, then Gotham must be more hellish than ever these days. Not that its demons would be bothered by that.

“Are you going to tell him?”, Dick asks as an afterthought. He doesn’t know why, but he’s sure that Bruce doesn’t know yet. Otherwise there would be some kind of black cloud over Gotham. Rainstorms of locusts, wolves howling in the moonlight, or something. Dick needs to believe that there would be something.

Damian smiles a bitter smile.

“I have to. I’m not sure he would even notice otherwise.”

“Damian…”

His brother looks at him with angry eyes and shakes his head just once, in warning.

“Don’t.”

So Dick doesn’t. He lets the silence settle between them and looks at the stars above their heads, still sipping the beer. Damian hasn't opened his yet.

“Are you going to stay with the Titans?”, Dick asks again, after a while. That’s what he did, oh so many years ago. Left a giant, lonely house for a giant, noisy place full of friends and laughters, and for a while he had been able to pretend that the loneliness wasn’t still waiting for him just underneath the surface, that it was just Bruce’s problem and not his. He knows better now. But Damian’s always been more honest with himself than Dick ever was, so he’s not surprised when his little brother shakes his head again.

“Clark said I could stay with them for a while. They moved back to the Kent farm, did you know?”

“No, I didn’t”, Dick answers after a beat. Then he frowns, not knowing how to say what he wants to say without sounding hurt, or jealous, even if he’s a little bit both of these things. “Damian, if you needed a place to stay…”

Damian scoffs, cutting him off before he can continue with the obvious.

“I know, Richard.”

“Then why not?”, Dick urges, striving again not to sound too resentful. “If you don’t have other plans, you could stay here, in Blüdhaven”, with me, he doesn’t add, because there’s no need to. “Nightwing could always use a partner, you know?”, he says instead, on a gentler note.

But Damian bites the inside of his cheek at that.

“Nightwing never had a partner”, he reminds him, after a moment. “I think that if he’d ever wanted one, then he would’ve had one.”

The words are soft and not at all accusing, but they still feel like knives, and they cut just the same into his skin, making him angry and defensive. But he swallows down the sudden burst of rage and grabs Damian’s arm, shaking it to force his brother to face him.

“Don’t”, he warns, in the same tone Damian’s used on him before. “Not ever.”

Damian meets his glare with impassive eyes, but after a moment he nods, and pats Dick’s hand on his arm with his own in reconciliation.

“I wasn’t claiming that...”, he starts, then he clears his throat. “What I mean is, I don’t think that’s what I want. To exchange a Batman for another one.”

“I’m not Batman, Damian.”

“To me you’ll hardly ever be anything else.”

Dick can sense the feelings in their voices clash against one another. There’s bitterness in his own words, old grudges and a dormant fear that never really disappeared, but there’s fondness and a touch of nostalgia in Damian’s. It’s one of those things they’ll never agree upon, one of those choices that cannot be made again anyway.

He squeezes Damian’s arms again, reassuringly, before turning back to look at the city underneath their dangling feet. Damian follows his gaze, hums and finally opens his bottle.

Dick looks at him while his brother tilts his head back and swallows half the beer in a big, practiced gulp. Sometimes, with the right lights and shadows, Damian resembles his father so much that Dick can't help but overlap the two images: the much more younger, light-hearted Bruce of his childhood, and the much more older, graver Damian of his present. It was stupid of him to think that things would get easier with time. He should know better than anyone else that time doesn’t make anything better.

“What are you going to do then?”

Damian smiles around his beer, and for the first time tonight it’s not a tired, bitter, or nervous smile, but a content one. A happy one.

“I don’t know”, he answers, looking at Dick with an unfamiliar glimpse in his eyes. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

Dick smiles.

Wonderful, yes. And terrifying, if he remembers correctly what is like to be eighteen years old and leave home for the first time. He throws an arm across Damian’s shoulders, pulls him closer until their heads are touching and Damian is leaning more or less comfortably against him.

They finish their beers in silence, and even if it’s not a goodbye it feels just like one.

-

“You sure you want to leave that here?”, he asks once they’re back in his apartment, pointing at the box still sitting on his kitchen table.

Damian picks up his backpack before looking at it, then he shrugs.

“It was you who gave it to me first”, he answers. “So it feels right to give it back to you now.”

“As a formal resignation, you mean?”, Dick jokes, and he wishes those words wouldn’t hurt so much because they really shouldn’t. He’s happy for Damian. This is a good thing. Dick’s just being stupid. And a little hypocritical.

Damian only nods.

“You’re not going to put it in a case or something equally disturbing, right?”, he asks after a moment, only half-joking.

“Nah, no cases”, Dick assures him. “But maybe I’ll bronze it. You know, like baby shoes. Don’t think Bruce’s ever done that.”

Damian swats him on the shoulder with way too much violence, and the scowl on his face is exactly the same one he used to wear when he was ten years old and barely reached Dick’s chest.

Now Dick can hide his face in the crook of his little brother’s neck, which is a significant advantage, since he’s pretty sure Damian has no use for his pain right now. He came here for his brother’s support, not to deal with Dick’s regrets.

“I love you, kiddo”, Dick murmurs into his ear, rubbing Damian’s back.

Damian hugs him back one last time, then he’s gone.

-

He waits a few minutes before going back to the kitchen and opening both the box and another beer.

He takes a few sips, then lifts the cardboard lid and of course Damian’s uniform is right there, perfectly folded by expert hands. But it’s not the last uniform that was made for him, it’s the very first one Damian’s ever worn, the one Dick designed for him when he made him Robin, all those years before.

He stands beside the kitchen’s table and trails a finger along the golden edges of the cape’s hood, then cups his hand over the R patch on the uniform’s chest, fingernails gently scratching over the stitches.

Maybe he should call Bruce, Dick thinks. Drops little hints to give him the time to process the information, even if he suspects that Bruce too has been expecting to lose their shared Robin for some time now. But maybe it’s not his place to ease the process, maybe that’s not what Damian wants.

I’m not sure he would even notice otherwise, Damian had said before, because he still doesn’t know that Bruce always notices everything, even if he pretends not to. Especially when he pretends not to. But Damian’s going to learn that in time, just like they all did.

He pulls the uniform out of the box with the half-intention of hangin it besides his own, at least for the time being, and that’s when the rustle of paper catches his attention. A little white card falls on the kitchen’s floor and Dick has to crouch down to pick it up from under the table. The paper is thick and rough between his fingers and there are only two words written on its front, inscribed in black ink in Damian's unmistakable elegant and precise handwriting.

Thank you.

Dick can only sit down and stare at both the card and the uniform for a long, long while.

[mytennisdiary]

Australian Open 2021 - Day 1

Sunday, Feb 7 - Sunday Feb 21

This is my first attempt at recording my impressions while watching a major tennis tournament. I am watching from my home in Pleasantville, NY via the YouTube TV app on my Playstation 4. This is the 3rd tennis major since my father passed away in August 2020. I’m considering turning the finished product in to a book. I can imagine creating short books for every major sporting event I watch. It’s just an idea, but one which interests me today.

Monday, Feb 8

I’m not watching any of the first day live since Super Bowl 55 was last night. The Bucs beat Kansas City convincingly behind Brady and a strong performance from their defense. I begin the tournament on Monday morning.

It’s in the mid-60s in Melbourne, unseasonably cool for this time of year. The tournament is being broadcast on ESPN and much of the talk revolves around the complicated logistics of holding a tournament in a country that has practically eradicated Covid-19 and wants to keep it in check. The run up to the tournament was dominated by headlines about players being confined to their hotel rooms for 19 hours a day; potentially more in the case of those who flew on the same planes as players who were quarantined. Meanwhile, outrage at the preferential treatment given to star players by Tennis Australia has also made waves, with players such as Tennys Sandgren publicly airing grievances. Top players were allowed more members in their parties. They stayed at different hotels and had more expansive access to practice facilities. Patrick McEnroe and Mary Joe Fernandez are the initial commentary team. They are happy to have a crowd back in the seats, but to my eye the number of attendees is rather meager. 30,000 people are being admitted each day, but they are split into 3 sections and not allowed to go to other areas of the ground.  They claim that Rod Laver arena will be about half full for the final. Another wrinkle is the introduction of a fully automatic line-calling system. One of the strangest aspects is that players still have the ability to challenge calls, but since the same system that provides the challenge replays makes the call in the first place, they have no chance to actually win the challenge. The challenge now feels like something vestigial whose purpose has shifted from practical to therapeutic, allowing players to see the call in more detail without any ability to alter it. When a ball was close to the line, either in or out, they will put a little alert up that says “close call”. It’s strange, but the commentators seem to think that this system takes a bit of pressure off the players since they don’t have to be so focused on spotting close calls for themselves and knowing when to challenge. Another interesting detail about the line calling system is that they’ve programmed it to make calls with the voices of first responders from Australia. Masks are not required for fans in the stands. Some are wearing them, but others are not. Apparently, you are supposed to wear them when moving around the grounds. A lot of talk about how things are ostensibly normal, and yet there are these strange restrictions on this tournament. Seems like the restrictions might be more for appearances than anything else. Guess you would have to know what kind of big local events (concerts, sporting events) are being held and what conditions are like at those.

An interesting aside came from Chrissy when she discussed players warm-up routines. The players put in 30 minutes to an hour of hard cardio and strength training. Chrissy joked that the exercise they get just in warm-ups is what she used to get in a match. The courts are apparently playing a little bit quicker this year, even in the cool conditions. Apparently Tennis Australia used a different company to lay the surface of the courts this year and the quicker bounce was something that they had specifically in mind. The reason for the speed up has to do with there now being less sand/grit on the top of the surface than years past. They’re also using different balls this year after a lot of complaints last year that the balls were fluffing up. Also had a couple of matches on Margaret Court arena disrupted by birds.

The broadcast begins with Osaka vs Pavlyuchenkova. Osaka is wearing a bright orange skirt with a black top and leggings, decorated with a blue, tan, and black camouflage pattern. Osaka pulled out of warmup tournament in semifinals with a shoulder “niggle”. She looks calm and balanced, hitting the ball deep into the court and attacking the corners off of short balls. The days of the inconsistent Osaka that followed her first 2 majors seem long behind us. Pavlyuchenkova looked uncomfortable with Osaka’s power early in the match. She did respond in the second set, imposing her will to a greater degree. However, it was clear that she was pressing to go for more to get ahead in points. Every time she made inroads Osaka countered with dazzling play. Osaka’s only weakness appears to be her approach to net, which doesn’t quite look smooth. She runs around balls to hit her two handed backhand which appears to be her more comfortable shot. Osaka wins 6-1 6-2 in just over an hour.

Simultaneously, V. Williams vs Flipkens were locked in a tight veteran battle. Venus, now 40 years old was wearing an aqua colored dress and a white tennis cap. Her hair is shorter than I’ve ever seen it. She’s always had a tendency to look a bit gangly and off balance, but there is still some of the smooth grace she used to display. Venus didn’t win a single set in a major played in 2020, but she took the first set in a back and forth afair here. Flipkens, a 35 year old Belgian who wears sporty glasses and plays without a coach. She doesn’t give Venus a lot of pace and is looking to attack short balls and second serves with her forehand. The match was not without drama. Flipkens was able to make her uncomfortable with slice and did a good job anticipating her shots. That being said, Venus’s power ultimately carried her through. 7-5 6-2 in around 90 minutes.

The next match featured S. Williams vs Siegemund. This is Serena’s 11th attempt to win her 24th career major. She’s wearing a pink, red, and black patterned body suit, not entirely dissimilar to the catsuit she word in Paris two year ago. Her left leg is entirely exposed, whereas her right leg is covered. She looks like she could be attending an aerobics class in the 80s. Siegemund, the 31 year old German, is a quality player, and like Pavlyuchnkova has been given an unfortunate draw. She likes to take the ball early and slice off the forehand. Serena was broken on her first service game, but quickly recovered. She has the easy power working today and looks to be rolling. Chrissy and Renee agree that Serena looks calm and in control; a good sign for her. Another talking point for Chrissy is Serena’s movement, which she thinks looks better than it has in years, especially charging to nets after drop shots. Siegemund never looked comfortable, especially dealing with Serena’s returns of her soft serves. 6-1 6-1. Apparently Serena is a big Tom Brady fan. I know she lives in Florida. Their were jokes about their ages in the post-match interview.

B. Pera vs Kerber has started 5-0 for Pera. She’s an American citizen born in Croatia who I’ve never seen before. She’s tall, but not too tall. Seems to have strong legs. Hits good flat ground strokes. The forehand is powerful although can go off at times. Kerber, now 33, hasn’t played well in a while. Her best showing at a major last year was the 4th round. Pera did show some nerves, letting Kerber back into the match, but Kerber couldn’t recover from losing the first 9 games of the match. She just doesn’t have an offensive weapon. And although she can come up with amazing shots when she’s on her heels, she just doesn’t do it consistently enough to win matches at a high level any more. Bernarda Pera is certainly one to watch for the future. 6-0 6-4 in just over an hour.

Monfils and Milan both out in a couple of first round five-setters to unknowns. Gael was holding back tears in an emotional post-match press conference.

The next big match on Laver was Thiem vs Kukushkin. We joined it at 5-5 in the first set just in time to see Them broken by the krafty veteran from Kazakstan. Thiem dug in, playing some long rallies with his slice backhand before asserting himself with some big shots. Grueling and gritty first set won by Them is a pretty comfortable tiebreak. Interesting Kukushkin fact, his wife is actually his coach. Apparently she went to school to be a coach, giving her a lot more training to do this than most of the coaches who are just former players. I wonder what you learn at coaching school. A comical moment occurred when it turned out that the woman in Kukushkin was not actually his wife/coach. In fact,  Kukushkin and her apparently split and McEnroe read a note on air from Kukushkin saying that he way annoyed that commentators kept mixing up his new girlfriend with his ex wife. They also told a story about Kukushkin who, growing up in Russia, used to play in an empty swimming pool, as well as on wood courts at a nearby prison, by necessity. Apparently wood courts really used be a thing. Jason Goodall said he played on them in england. Kukushkin is hitting it big off his forehand, as big as Thiem, but it just isn’t enough.  Thiem wore Kukushkin down throughout the match. 7-6 6-2 6-3

We went over to Zverev vs Giron. Zverev, in a sleeveless tank top looks like he’s read for the beach. Giron is an American who played college tennis at UCLA. He’s broken through in the last 18 months. I think I’ve seen him once before. McEnroe says he’s a counter-puncher with a “clean” backhand. Not that big and no big weapon, but seems to be rounding into form. Giron moves very well and is able to time his contact with ball in a way that makes him dangerous on a faster court. Zverev was swinging hard in the first set but making way too many errors. Giron got up big in the 1st set tiebreaker but then tightened up. He failed to convert 4 set point chances as Zverev got more conservative and played rock solid. However, on the fifth one, Giron pulled out the set when Zverev couldn’t do enough with his shots. The 2nd serve continues to be a problem for Zverev. He lets Giron back into the 2nd set. Zverev oscillates between being aggressive and dictating points and then falling back and being too passive, especially in tense moments. He almost let the 2nd set tiebreak get away, but pulled it out on his 3rd set point. Zverev was dialed in from the 3rd set on and Giron went away. 6-7 7-6 6-3 6-2

Taylor Fritz, the only seeded American man pulled out a 4 set win against Ramos-Vinolas. 7-6 3-6 6-2 7-6

Bianca Andrescu returned to women’s tennis with a 3 set win over the Romanian Buzarnescu. She teared up after the match.

Tiafoe vs Travaglia got some coverage next. Travaglia has a low ball toss and his serve can come at your pretty quick. Both he and Tiafoe seem to tighten up at key moments. There were 6 breaks in the first set and Tiafoe barely outlasted Travaglia in the tiebreak. Travaglia had played 3 matches in the last 2 days and the first set seems to have deciding in breaking his spirit. When Travaglia started slamming his thighs with his racket it was clear that his legs were failing him. Tiafoe seems to be at his best when he plays steady and cuts down his mistakes. He doesn’t seem to have the kind of weapon that could threaten a top player. 7-6 6-2 6-2

Dimitrov vs Cilic met in a battle of former top 10 seeds. Dimitrov served big to close out the first set. Cilic is a bit of a shell of himself, but he still found the ability at times to dictate with the serve and forehand. Despite showing some nerves in the conclusion, Grigor looked far superior athletically. 6-4 6-2 7-6

Augere-Aliasime vs Stebe saw Felix winning pretty comfortably. However, Gilbert discussed how Felix is 0-7 in his career in finals, often getting blown out. He seems to have problems with nerves which lead him to lose games in bunches. 6-2 6-4 6-2

Careno-Busta took out Nishikori in straight sets.

Halep vs Cabrera showcased a young Australian talent who doesn’t quite look ready for the big time. Halpe is neutralizing her power effectively and, as always, is able to change the kinds of looks she gives her opponent to keep her off balance. She baits Cabrera into repeatedly going for too much. The match was called by commentators from Tennis Australia. 6-2 6-1 Halep is playing doubles with a young Australian girl too. They got a wildcard to this event. 

Djokovic vs Chardy was the final match on Rod Laver. One of the big talking points about Djokovic is that he has beefed up and put on some more muscle. He kept Chardy off balance all match. Chardy didn’t play badly, but Novak just frustrates guys and forces them to do too much. Novak had some nice lunging volleys and short responses to drop shots. 6-3 6-1 6-2 in about 90 minutes.

Kyrgios vs Ferreira Silva sees Kyrgios return to action after 11 months. His forehand looks strong. He’s a good frontrunner. Served it out easily.

Shapovalov vs Sinner was the marquee matchup of day 1 on paper. Sinner, the 19 year old, riding a 10-game winning streak had just won an ATP title the day before against Travaglia, but he had looked visibly exhausted doing so. Ranked 31, he’s the underdog against the 21 year old Shapovalov, ranked 12, but Dennis has lost his last 6 matches. Sinner’s biggest weakness is his first serve. Shapovalov’s weakness is his defense. He doesn’t have enough of a steady, reliable game when his weapons aren’t working. Sinner wins the first set after getting up an early break. Sinner seems to get the ball so deep so easily. Shapovalov has problems with consistency. However, Sinner isn’t capitalizing on his many break point chances and Denis is hanging around. Interesting fact; Sinner was an excellent skier earlier in his life. Brad Gilbert praises Sinner for his ability to diffuse power, something Shap doesn’t do as well. By extension, Sinner’s hard-down-the-middle return gives Shap problems. Shap is able to come up with some spectacular shots on the run and Sinner does seem to eventually let down in long points with errors. Shap’s errors tend to happen earlier in points, particularly on serve returns, which for him are inconsistent. Shap also seems to get too upset when he loses points. Very demonstrative when compared to Sinner who is so calm. Denis had some easier service games in the second set and his forehand seems to be hurting Sinner more. Brad Gilbert is calling this match with Chris Fowler. I think that Gilbert is one of the best color commentators. He has some of the most insightful observations about tendency and strategy. He also has a goofy side and he loves to tell stories. He feels like a real character and not a robot. He always pulls out irreverent nicknames; so far “Escape from Alcatraz”, “Weekend at Bernie’s” and “Sin City”. Sinner just not taking advantage of break points; he’s 1 for 11 early in the 3rd set. He fought off a few early in the 2nd and 3rd sets in ways that might just be breaking Sinner’s spirit. (Sinner escorted a moth off the court with his racket). Shapovalov, winning a lot of points off his first serve and displaying a much more successful defensive approach, has turned the match completely around. After dropping the 2nd set, Sinner was looking listless, making a lot of errors. Then, halfway through the 4th set Sinner had a second wind and suddenly was showing positive emotion. He started giving Denis a different look, dropping back on the return, and he cut out a lot of the errors. Shapovalov got into an argument with the chair about not being allowed to go to the bathroom and then called the trainer. They played a really tight first game of the fifth set. Shapovalov was able to dictate play with his forehand and push a tired Sinner around the court in order to eventually get the break. Then Shapovalov pulled out some underhand serving and aggressive serve-and-volley play. He took advantage of Sinner’s extremely deep return position, a strategic decision that seems to have been a mistake since Sinner often didn’t get his returns deep enough and was able to be caught being pushed too far off the court to recover. Sinner never went away, pushing the set all the way to 5-4 and even having a break point chance which he missed by a couple of inches on what would have been an incredible cross court winner on a Denis approach to the net. Shapovalov showed nerves, but ultimately finished the match strong with a winner. Best match of the first day by far and potentially a preview of many future matchups which will come far later in tournaments than the first round. 3-6 6-3 6-2 4-6 6-4 in an almost 4-hour battle.

Maxime Cressy, a young serve-and-volley American, got a straight set win and will play Zverev in the 2nd round.