#then maybe so would a ritual that would let Jason pass over to the other side

[ktkat99]

A group of Gotham teens decide to hold a seance at Jason Todd's grave for Halloween. Jason finds out and decides to show up

[maxxxineminxxx]

I wanna be more part 2 || eddie munson

part one: https://www.tumblr.com/maxxxineminxxx/730923192165826560/i-wanna-be-more-eddie-munson?source=share

warnings: angst, jealousy, cussing, underage drinking, kissing.

summary : y/n attends the party she was unsure about going to, only to find out that Eddies there as well with his "girl?'' Eddie is still ignoring y/n and she is determined to find out why.

A/n; I decided on making a part two I hope its okay. I tried to finish this part and upload it as fast as i could so if there is any errors let me know!

You haven't spoken to Eddie all week, and every attempt to catch his eye seems to fail. The guys from Hellfire, while friendly, are just as clueless about Eddie's behaviour as you are. You've missed being with them, but with the way Eddie's been acting, you doubt he'd even want you around at this point. You can't shake the feeling that he's got Roxanne as a stand-in for you. The two of them seem awfully close.

Yesterday was the first day of the week that you had biology, Eddie was in the same class as you and sat right next to you so you thought you would finally be able to maybe get him to even acknowledge your presence. But he didn’t in fact he didn’t even sit next to you he moved his seat and sat next to Roxanne instead. The two of them giggling the entire lesson.

The cheerleaders have been persistent in trying to convince you to go to the party tonight, but all you really want to do is wallow in self-pity. On Saturday nights, you and Eddie would have your cherished movie nights. This tradition had been going strong since you were twelve, and you hadn't missed one. But tonight, you couldn't help but feel that it would mark the first Saturday where this tradition would be broken. Eventually, though, you decide that it might be good to take your mind off the situation and distract yourself for a couple of hours by going to this party.

As you approach Olivia's house, its exterior gives off elegance and warmth. The well-maintained structure stands as a testament to a comfortable and inviting abode. Olivia's mother graciously welcomes you inside. Following the lively symphony of girlish laughter, you navigate through the house. The source of the cheerful laughter and singing leads you to a room where a flurry of activity unfolds. The air is scented with cosmetics, a delightful blend of powders and perfumes.

 Within this lively environment, a group of girls are engaged in the transformative ritual of hair and makeup, each one a portrait of focused determination. Some of them in pairs, offering assistance and sharing opinions on outfits. The room is vibrant with colour, style, and a shared sense of excitement as they prepare for the party soon.

"y/n, get over here so I can get started on your makeup," Chrissy said to you, patting the spot next to her on the bed. You complied and settled in, letting her work her magic.

Meanwhile, Layla declared herself the outfit maker and designer, convinced that jeans were a no-go for a party. You observed as Carol and Olivia playfully teased each other and spritzed their hair.

 "y/n, you're up next for hair," Olivia informed you, stealing glances at her own reflection.

“y/n is there anyone you like?” Chrissy asked as she finished up your blush. “Yeah, but I don’t really think he likes me back like that, he kind of only sees me as a friend.” You admitted to her, she looked at you with pitiful eyes. “Well, his loss yeah?” you hummed in agreement and carol placed her hands on your shoulders and then spoke. “Hold your breath unless you want to pass out from inhaling too many hairspray fumes, I’ve learnt from experience.”

 This was going to be a long night. Slightly uncomfortable too, outfit wise.

Arriving at Jason's house, a wave of discomfort washed over you. The dress you wore hugged your form, its hemline leaving you feeling more exposed than you were used to. Layers of makeup adorned your face, a foreign sensation that you tried to ignore. Taking a deep breath, you pushed those sensations aside, determined to make the most of the evening. A break from the Eddie situation was much needed.

Compliments from fellow partygoers began to flow, and you couldn't deny the boost to your confidence. It made the uncomfort worth it. Though you couldn't ignore the lingering gazes from the basketball team. In the kitchen, an entire table was dedicated to a bunch of alcoholic drinks. You poured some into a cup, leaning against the counter as you took a sip. It was a moment of peace before you had to socialize. Although it didn't last very long before the girls were running up to you. The girls all come rushing up to you, whispering in hushed tones among themselves.

"Oh my god, you're never going to believe who even dared to attend tonight," Layla announces to the group, imitating a gag. "Eddie Munson and Roxanne are here together," she adds.

 You scan the room, and there they are.

The sting of hurt cuts deep, a familiar ache settling in your chest. It's a harsh truth you've come to accept - Eddie's reluctance to attend parties with you is a wound that never seems to fully heal. No matter how much you plead, his answer is always the same: a resolute no. You've always turned down invitations like this because Eddie didn't enjoy them, and you didn't want to go without him.

You wonder if he would have done the same for you. And now, he's here, amidst it all, with her. She likely didn't need to utter a plea, a thought that only adds to the pain. You watch as she leans into his side, and he holds her close. Your gaze remains fixed on them until your eyes meet Eddie's. He looks at you, then turns to Roxanne, whispering something in her ear. They both giggle.

The alcohol begins to work its gentle magic, enveloping you in a comforting warmth. Leaning into Jason, who's positioned himself protectively between you and Carol, you find solace in his presence. It's surprising, yet oddly comforting. He places a protective arm around your waist.

“you, okay?” he asked with genuine concern you nod and give him a smile. “Just tired.”

Jason had promised to be your protector, ready to confront any guy who overstepped boundaries and made you uneasy. His genuine concern touched you deeply, especially when you confide your uncertainty about the party during your lunch conversation. As the party swirls around you, the noise and bright lights closing in, you start to feel slightly overwhelmed.

You stumble towards the front porch, craving the cool embrace of fresh air and a moment of peace. The alcohol has taken its toll, pushing you on the edge of emotions. Your heart aches for a chance to talk to Eddie, to find out the reason for his distance.

Lost in your thoughts, you settle onto the porch, consumed by all your questions and concerns. It takes a moment before you even register the presence beside you. Glancing over, your breath catches in your throat. There's Eddie, his expression etched with deep contemplation. It appears he, too, is lost in his own world, unaware of your arrival. The weight of your unspoken connection hangs heavy in the air between you.

But when he finally noticed you, he stood up, already ready to head back inside and ignore you once again. But you grab his arm before he can enter the house once more. Your voice trembles with frustration and hurt as you confront Eddie. His attempts to avoid your gaze only fuel your determination.

“Why are you ignoring me, Eddie? I think I deserve a damn explanation," you press your grip on his arm firm. His response feels like a dismissive blow.

"I don't know what you mean," he mutters, a fake innocence in his tone that grates against your raw emotions. It's as if he's trying to gaslight you, making it seem like you've imagined this distance.

"You don't know what I mean? How about how you ignored me all weekend, and then still didn't speak to me at school, no matter how many times I tried to reach out to you?" Your words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of your broken connection. The ache of longing for an explanation pulse through you, demanding acknowledgment.

Eddie's fingers dance nervously over his rings, a visible sign of his stress. He lets out a shaky exhale, struggling to find the right words. "I Dunno," he mumbles, his voice laced with uncertainty.

Your frustration grows, demanding an answer. "What do you mean you don't know? You just woke up and decided you were going to ignore me for no reason, huh?" The hurt and confusion well up within you, desperate for an explanation. You feel your eyes swell up with tears, and you blink them away, worried about messing up your makeup. Eddie’s confession hangs heavy in the air, each word dripping with sincerity and vulnerability.

"I love you, y/n, so much it scares me," he admits, his emotions laid bare.

"I've been working up the courage for years to ask you out or say something, but I figured you would never see me that way, and then I'd ruin our entire friendship. So I needed to get over you. And I couldn't do that by seeing you all the time, I only came to this stupid party to make sure you were okay,” he admits ‘’i even asked Roxanne to help me i don't know, maybe make you jealous, see if you even cared.’’

The sight of you with Jason seems to further drive home the point for Eddie, a bitter confirmation of what he feared. "But you look pretty cozy over there with Jason, so it looks like you couldn't care less," he concludes, his tone laced with hurt. Your heart aches, the weight of his words settling in. This is a mess of misunderstanding.

His words leave you momentarily speechless. He wants more than just friendship, and the weight of that realization settles in, both thrilling and terrifying. As he turns to leave, you find your voice, a mixture of surprise and longing colouring your words.

"Eddie, wait." But you've answered too late; he's already walking towards his car to leave. You run after him, yelling out his name, and he finally looks back at you.

The weight of the moment hangs heavy in the air as you try to muster the words. "Eddie wait” But your attempt at an explanation is abruptly cut off.

His voice trembles with pain, a raw vulnerability in his eyes. "Y/n, save it okay? I don't want to hear it," he interjects, his tone laced with sadness. His words struck you like a blow, and in that vulnerable moment, you couldn't hold back any longer. "I love you too," you confessed, the truth tumbling from your lips as he moved towards his car. You couldn't bear to watch him leave, to be ignored again. You had to tell him now.

As he turned to look at you, his face registered shock and disbelief, a thousand emotions dancing across his features. The weight of your unspoken feelings hung heavily between you, a bridge waiting to be crossed. He moved closer to you. So close that you could feel his breath fanning over your face. “Say that again,” he asked, tucking some of your hair behind your ear and locking eyes with you.

“I love you, Eddie.” He cupped your face with both his hands, and you felt his lips crash into yours creating an electrifying connection that sent shivers down your spine. It was a passionate moment filled with desire and longing. Our bodies pressed against each other as if trying to merge into one. Time seemed to stand still as we lost ourselves in the intensity of the kiss. The kiss was hungry and passionate. You had been waiting for this moment for what felt like forever. He broke away from the kiss and looked at you with a smirk. “I haven't told you how beautiful you look tonight,” he said, his hands roaming your body. You blushed and hid your face in his neck. He held you close, pressing kisses to your cheeks.

‘’Please don’t ignore me again Eddie, i wish you would have spoken to me " you said attempting to make the situation serious again so you could understand how he was feeling.

"I know, I know I should've just told you how I was feeling, but I just couldn't,” he admitted softly. You brushed his bangs out of his face and watched as he gathered his thoughts.

“i didn't know how to talk to you about it or even approach the situation, i thought that if i admitted it to you i would mess it up and become a stuttering mess, ‘m sorry.” he expressed to me, he buried his face into the crook of my neck for a moment before he pulled away and looked at me with a smirk.

 “So what's this I'm hearing about you loving me huh?”

 “Eddie, stop, I'm still mad at you,” you said, fighting the urge to smile.

“Nonoo y/n you love me’’ “Y/N L/N LOVES EDDIE MUNSON’’ he screamed on top of his lungs “Eddie people are staring” you laughed and tried to cover his mouth with the palm of your hand.

“Let them stare, I'm only telling the truth.’’ he leaned in to kiss you once more. “How about I make it up to you with a milkshake?” “Only if its chocolate”

You and Eddie walked hand in hand to his van. It felt like a dream, the reality of your shared feelings sinking in with each step. The joy in your heart was palpable, unable to tear your gaze away from him, grateful that he felt the same way you did.

“y/n do you know what this means” he looked over at me and was suddenly extremely serious. “A cheerleader is in love with me.’’

“You are actually such a dork” you say as you grab his hand to hold whilst the two of you walk over to his van. “Yeah, but I’m a dork that you love.”

tags: (i hope this is everyone tumblr wasnt allowing me to tag some ppl so if i missed anyone im so sorry )

@thedyingwriter @daisyridleyyyy @munsonzgf

@sazifer @hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel @sashaphantomhive

@boomitsallie1 @emma77645 @ziggeddie @ahoyyharrington

@inesven

[swanimagines]

STUPID LOVE | JASON RIPPER

Summary: Jason falling for someone he shouldn't.

the gif is mine!

Ever since Jason joined Aleister Crowley's cult, he had boosted his manipulative self up. His cockiness faded and he could be humble in a way when needed. Crowley needed his morning tea and meals served to him, and Jason had no problem with being his servant anymore. He wouldn't settle for less, but this was the best he could get after being driven out from London.

He had never cared about anyone else but himself, and he had intended to keep it that way. Which is why it was a shock when he found himself befriending you, an outsider who wasn't even interested in Satanism. You didn't have anything against it either, as long as nobody got hurt. You joined Jason for dinners quite often, and he found your company comforting. He found you different from anyone else, you were accepting, took him as he was, laughed at his jokes and just... were an easy person to be around. Your eyes were bright like stars and your smile lit up the whole room.

Tonight, you had fallen asleep on the couch and Jason found himself staring at your face. You looked so peaceful sleeping there. A soft breeze blew through his window, causing the curtains to stir. Jason smiled slightly, thinking how peaceful it would've been if you slept beside him.

And that's when he realised it wasn't just friendship what you two were having anymore. Not for him. It was something deeper, almost like...

Love?

He got up quickly, making his way to the bathroom and washed his face. He stared at the sink, his knuckles turning white as he stared at the hole in the middle. Water dripped down from the hairs on his forehead, and he lifted his gaze.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror, wondering if he would really be infatuated with you or if there were any other reasons. He knew there was nothing wrong with loving someone, he could go to Crowley and ask for help, but he would just say Satan doesn't get angry about it... but it still felt foreign, and wrong in a way.

Why did he feel this way?

Jason opened his mouth, trying to coax himself out of it, but all that came out was "Fuck."

Loving you would interfere with his important job he did. If you'd ever learn they actually did hurt people in some rituals, you'd try to get him out of it, he knew you would. You'd care too much to let it go. If your relationship would ever grow out to be more than friendship and maybe occasional nights together, the chances of you finding out the truth about the cult would increase. He would have to get rid of you, and he wasn't sure he could take it. Whether he liked it or not, he had begun to wait for these evenings and nights you came to spend time with him, and drank the time with you like a parched man drinking water.

His mind wandered, picturing you lying next to him on the bed. Holding each other, falling asleep as the moonlight painted his room's walls. At the morning he'd kiss the top of your head to wake you up, run his hand over your arm when you would open your eyes. Then you would draw shapes on his chest and give him your beautiful smile before you'd kiss him.

No.

Absolutely not.

Even though he liked you, he couldn't risk getting involved with you. It would destroy him. Destroy all the hard work he had done to get here. He had went from riches to nothing, to getting to a nice mansion to pamper a rich cult leader with a nice pay. He wouldn't settle for less, being a servant had felt humiliating enough for his heritage, but this was still a huge kick of luck. He got nice food, he got running water, a warm, plush bed. He wasn't willing to risk those all for... love.

But he knew that every time you came for a visit, his feelings would increase. The more time passed between visits, the more he loved you. And that's when it occurred to him. Love is a terrible thing. It's not something to be taken lightly.

Love is stupid. He felt like a child thinking like that, but in his case it was true. It was something he should be able to shut down from feeling.

But still... something in him told him that he should push forward and see where it would lead...

---

Requests are always open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[thaliasandy]

Slightly smutty Hellcheer headcanon:

"Studies have linked violent behavior to the game, saying it promotes satanic worship, ritual sacrifice, sodomy, suicide, and even... Murder."

They're sitting in the back of Eddie's van, the radio's playing in the background; It's comfy, there are blankets and a couple of cushions and Chrissy feels herself blush wondering what he usually does in here. While he's expertly rolling a joint, she picks up the magazine with the Dungeons and Dragons article and reads it, when she closes the magazine again she's kind of fidgety almost nervous.

"Spit it out, Princess, What is it?"

He asks, taking a drag from the joint before passing it to her.

"Oh um...is it true what it says in here?"

She inhales the smoke deep into her lungs like he'd shown her and tries not to cough.

"Well I don't sacrifice innocent little virgins, now do I?"

He gives her an evil teasing grin and she playfully slaps his chest.

She gets chatty when she's high and the last time they smoked together she'd embarrassedly told him that she didnt go all the way with Jason yet, not for lack of trying on Jason's part though.

Eddie was far from an expert at sex himself, he'd made out with a couple of people, lost his virginity to Tammy Thompson two years ago, saw his fair share of porn magazines and videos and got a blow job in his car, from a flirty college girl that had somehow got lost at the Hideout with her friends a couple months ago;

So he'd reassured Chrissy that there's nothing wrong with waiting for the right moment ,with him, he thought, not with Carver, knowing that that would never happen, that The queen of Hawkins High would never let a trailer trash, drug dealing, DnD playing loser like him defile her.

"That's not what I meant! That other thing..."

"Huh? The murder? Yeah haven't killed anyone either...yet"

He still smirks, the deep pink blush spreading all over her face tells him exactly what she's refering to but he enjoys teasing her a bit too much.

"Stooooop! You know what I mean...isnt that....like...really painful?"

She leans in close and is almost whispering as if anyone can overhear, despite them sitting in his car, next to lovers lake, while it's raining outside and not a soul is in sight.

"I mean I've never been on the recieving end... or the giving for that matter, but I guess it can feel really good for both partners if the guy is careful and knows what he's doing..."

He feels his own face burning now and doesn't know if it's the weed making him lightheaded or his blood flow being diverted away from his brain. He adjusts the way he sits, hoping she doesn't notice.

"But maybe don't ask Jason to...you know, do that with you..."

"You think he wouldn't know how to make it good for me?"

She looks at him with her big blue innocent eyes as if she didnt just ask him about anal sex.

"Pfff I'm sure he doesn't know how to make you feel good in general but can we please stop talking about Carver fuck-...about this asshole doing anything with you?" 

"Sorry...didnt wanna make you angry"

The mood just went from playful to ice cold. He holds out the joint to her but she's staring at her hands, fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of her cheer skirt.

Eddie gently brushes his knuckles along her upper arm and offers her the joint again when she looks at him.

"Hey I'm not angry...just don't want to think about you having sex is all."

She stares at him, bottom lip quivering, hardly able to hold back her tears, swallowing the lump in her throat and Eddie's confused how they ended up here, things were going so well and now she's almost crying and he's not even sure what he did wrong.

"I know I'm not much to look at but you don't have to be so mean about it."

"Oh shit! Chrissy, that's not what I meant!" He can't help but chuckle at the absurdity of this situation,

"Look, I'm a simple man, you keep talking about getting' and he lowers his voice and leans in as if he's letting her in on a secret, the way she did earlier' "some back door action, I'm going to think about it and I'll have a bit of a problem here..."

He vaguely gestures towards his crotch. Chrissy's eyes go wide when she realizes.

"Oh...oh!!!...you mean...Oh my god I'm sorry...wait...because of me?"

"Yeah... you're driving me crazy, isnt that obvious?"

"So you ARE into that?" She giggles and he's just glad she's not crying anymore.

God he loves the sound of her giggling, he runs his hand over his face shaking his head.

"Chrissy Cunningham, people would think you're a real freak if they knew about your new found interest in sodomy"

He says the last word in this deep, almost growl- like voice he sometimes uses when playing DnD , and he didn't expect that kind of reaction but he's delighted to see the shiver that runs through her. Eddie leans against the back of the driver seat, one of his long legs streched out in front of him the other slightly bent, still trying to not put his semi hard dick too much on display.

"You're not going to tell anyone, right?"

"Of course not, Princess, it's our dirty little secret."

He was just trying to be funny but her breathless little gasp and the way she looks at him, like this is the most exciting thing that ever happened to her, her pupils dilated so far her eyes almost look black, before she crawls over and snuggles against him like a fucking kitten, like they usually do once the high sets in, make him realize he probably could get into her proverbial pants right now, if only he was a bit more of an asshole.

"Do you...do you need help with that?"

She murmurs into his Hellfire club shirt, her fingers trace a path down his chest until they're dangerously close to waistband of his pants.

The frustrated groan that slips out of his lips before he gently grasps her hand and links their fingers together, sends another shiver through Chrissy's body. He doesn't want to turn her down... HOLY FUCK does he want to feel those dainty fingers wrapped around his cock but everything about this feels wrong, not in a hot, 'doing something forbidden' kind of way but in a 'she might regret this later and never speak a single word with him again' way.

"We shouldn't be doing this, Sweetheart,  not tonight... but if you still want to ...next time we meet, we can. Is that alright for you?"

She looks up into his mesmerizing brown eyes and nods excitedly, this is so wildly different than what she's used to with Jason she can feel herself fall head over heels in love with this boy.

[citrinesparkles]

wrist kisses

jason todd x gender neutral reader. 1,013 words. notes: can he PLEASE be happy. please. alternate title "citrine gets sad about jason again". two quick blurbs about jason having a bad time. warnings: mild angst? maybe? brief mention of food

you barely caught his pause out of the corner of your eye, only noticing the deep breath he took because you knew to watch for it. the moment- a few seconds of his hand on the counter, his shoulders slumping, his chest rising and falling- was almost nothing.

but, in truth, it was absolutely everything.

a deep breath to steady himself. you could almost laugh at how small a tell it was, if the thought of that being all he would allow himself didn't settle into the pit of your stomach like a stone.

and then his posture straightened, his hand fell to his side, and he turned to you as though it had never happened.

"i'm heading out, honey," he said with a grin.

the tone was light, words casual, but the use of honey was anything but: rare enough to set off warning sirens in your mind and fully tug your attention away from your food.

you turned your head to him, waffling between letting him have his masks and walls or just asking him to stay. asking him to take the night off, get just one decent night's rest, a few measly hours free of the horrors of the city and the aches and pains of fighting them.

you wanted so desperately to drag him to bed. in your perfect world, you would ask and he would stay and whatever was tugging the corner of his mouth into a subtle scowl would go away.

but it wasn't a perfect world, so you settled for crossing the room and dragging him into your arms.

a tiny noise of surprise escaped him and his body tensed under your touch, your arms snaking under his jacket. it was as close to slipping through his defenses as you could get, as close as he would let you get tonight.

but this, he gave you. after a brief moment of off-balance tension he all but melted into your hold, helmet getting dropped onto the counter as you were tugged even closer to him.

you squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep, deliberate breath, one he immediately matched. a silent comfort, as much as you thought you could get away with offering.

"be caref-"

your muttered wish of safety was cut off by something best described as a whimper. "just... gimme a minute," he mumbled into your collar. "need a minute."

"okay."

you leaned into him, focusing on the sound of his breathing and the scent of leather wafting from his jacket. his warmth had already spread to the fabric, now seeping into your skin.

eventually, he sighed, pulling his head back enough to meet your gaze.

"hey, jason."

he gave you a weak smile. "hey."

you squeezed his torso gently. "wanna talk about it?"

"nah. don't have time, anyway. gotta be at the docks by midnight." his gloved hands trailed down your back, coming to rest on your waist. his eyes dropped and narrowed at his right hand as it picked at a piece of lint on your sweatshirt. "just... tired."

a small huff of laughter escaped you. "never would have guessed that."

he sighed again. "i gotta go, gorgeous."

"okay." you withdrew your arms, bringing your hands down to catch his. you brought them up, resting his palms against your cheeks.

with a small scoot forward, your lips found the skin between glove and sleeve and rested there, feeling his heartbeat.

"i love you," you murmured quietly against his pulse, turning your head to give his other wrist the same treatment. "just... be careful out there."

he opened his mouth slightly before closing it again, the motion catching your eye and bringing your attention upwards. his jaw clenched for a beat, contrasting his soft, gooey eyes and the sudden color in his cheeks. "c'mere."

he led you forwards, meeting you halfway with an invitation to repeat your wish against his lips.

---

"you heading out?"

a rhetorical question. his helmet was three shades shy of being a neon sign.

months had passed. the crisis at the docks had been resolved, as had several after, but yet another had sprung up and brought with it the same emotional withdrawal from that night in the kitchen.

"yeah."

the robotic voice was grating, inorganic, telling your ears the same thing his posture told your eyes.

there was a wall up, solid and thick, and it wouldn't be falling tonight.

you nodded at his back, watching the tension in his shoulders as he shifted in front of the glow of the city. "jason."

the helmet turned slightly. a question, an acknowledgement, but not much more.

the sight made you sigh.

you crossed the short distance between you, stepping around him and planting yourself in front of the window.

even through the expressionless red, you could feel him watching you as you gently took his hand in both of yours and brought it up to your cheek.

you pressed a soft kiss to the exposed skin below his glove.

the only piece of him exposed, the only sliver of your love that wasn't hidden behind armor.

his thumb trailed over your cheek, slow and sweet, and you repeated the process with his other hand.

"i love you," you said firmly, meeting the eyes of his helmet with a challenge in your own, all but daring him to doubt it as you squeezed your fingers around the bare skin your lips had abandoned. "please be safe."

silence for a beat, two, before he sighed and all but fell forwards. his helmet gently rested against your forehead and his thumbs wandered over your skin again. "i'll do my best."

you squirmed back just enough to press a kiss against the shiny red, lingering for a moment before slowly releasing his arms and shifting away. "then go on, hero. i'll see you tonight."

he hesitated, head tilted towards you in silent thought before nodding. "see you."

and with that, he slid out the window and into the night, leaving you to hope the small ritual brought him the comfort it brought you.

[mattzerella-sticks]

How I’d Fix Titans on HBO Max

So this is just a little post to release some pent-up steam about the Titans show because this is the third season, and this is the third time I’ve let myself be bamboozled into thinking I’d enjoy the major storyline. And I’ve got a lot of thoughts since the first season about things I’d’ve done differently if I were given creative control of the show.

DISCLAIMER: I’ll only be plotting out the season story beats, as this is what I believe is the worst crime of the show. I think the casting is fine, even if a few wouldn’t be my first choice (*cough* Iain Glen as Bruce Wayne *cough*). My only note for set design is BETTER LIGHTING. I’m not the most well-versed in cinematography; I do think they’ve improved over the seasons, but pinpointing all the little details will take too much time and that’s not what this is focused on.

Starting with SEASON 1:

Trigon should not have been our s1 big bad. The audience for Titans will mostly be made up of people who probably were introduced to comics and these characters from shows like Justice League and Teen Titans, the latter of which already handled the Trigon storyline very well with most of the heroes Titans decided to use. Besides that, the SFX for Trigon alone would - despite the massive budget HBO Max allowed for projects like this - ultimately disappoint (and we were... at least I was). It’s not like animation or comics where the depiction of the battle between a massive demon and a team of superheroes would be better resolved. Exploring Raven’s powers and origins, however, was the right choice for season 1 since - in George Perez’s Titans - Raven was the one who assembled them together. Yes, this was to battle Trigon in the end... but it doesn’t have to be that way.

The season 1 threat should have been Sebastian Blood and his cult. It seemed like they were the B-villains, but the followers of Trigon felt kind of generic and, like Trigon, disappointing. There’d be a lot more freedom to handle this because Brother Blood wasn’t as well explored in Titans media, the only incarnation being from the Teen Titans cartoon but stripped of his cult-and-demon origins. Infusing these elements back into the character would make it original and, if done correctly, timely. Like, a good representation of who Sebastian Blood could have been is a portrayal similar to James Wolk as Joe Keene, Jr. on Watchmen the series; someone who is viewed favorably with good press but ultimately runs a secret cabal with many followers a goal of world domination under the banner of ‘The Four-Eyed Demon’. And to do this, they need the Demon’s daughter.

Which brings us to Rachel. Having her be pursued still works as a great set-up, however instead of followers of Trigon they’re followers of Sebastian Blood. She needs help. Especially if we keep the scene of her foster mother being murdered. Instead of Dick, though, she runs into Starfire.

And our entry point into Starfire would be different, too. We find her on an alien spaceship, in its jail, but then she sees visions as the ship passes over Earth and invigorated by the machine’s malfunctioning (due to Raven’s spirit, as we’d find out), Starfire manages to escape and finds her way to Rachel. Saving Rachel ( “I believe we can help each other”). In this way the Starfire and Raven relationship replacing the Dick and Raven relationship as the crux of season 1.

I’d still include Dick, albeit in a different capacity and with a lot changed. When he finds Rachel and Starfire, it’s because he was investigating activity in the area (he’d been tracking the cult for a while). He’s working undercover but also as the Robin persona. He still believes in the mission while, at this point in the story, Batman has given up and retired. This is because Jason Todd had died a year ago, and because of this and thinking it’s his fault - Bruce gave up and abandoned Gotham for parts unknown to deal with his grief. Dick helps Starfire and Rachel, and together the trio leave for elsewhere - Dick aware of how the cult needs Rachel and haunted that he couldn’t look after Jason, he sees how he can protect Rachel and clings to tha, Rachel curious about why a cult would want her and what her origins are, and Starfire, free of her imprisonment and indebted to Rachel but also homesick as she didn’t leave of her own choice. Over the course of the series they’d grow closer as a family, especially when Gar joins them (I would keep the Doom Patrol episode because that episode served its purpose well, of being a backdoor pilot - maybe change a few things but those details are so minute it’s not worth mentioning).

A big change - no Hawk and Dove. I think Minka Kelly and Alan Ritchson were great choices and acted well with what was given to them, plus I enjoyed Hank’s backstory and think, if they wanted to, a Hawk and Dove miniseries would have been fantastic to explore that better (and allow for a better paced introduction between Dawn and Hank). That being said, my main reason for cutting out Hawk & Dove is two-fold. First, how they killed Dawn’s mom and Don Hall. That was so dirty and so badly conceived. Second, the weird love triangle between Dick, Dawn, and Hank. It just made no sense. 

Instead of Hawk and Dove, I think a better choice to introduce into live action would be Karen Beecher and Mal Duncan - Bumblebee and Herald. Especially after reading their issue of ‘Secret History of the DC Universe’. Have Mal want to be a hero, then meeting Karen, and not wanting him to go it alone she joins him with her tech. They are approached to join the Titans and do, only being superheroes begins to put a stressor on their relationship. And one night Karen and Dick, a little drunk, a little sad from events that will be explained in s2 hook up. Once this is found out Karen and Herald leave and this marks the end of the Titans. This will also tie into Dick’s feelings about how he felt he keeps losing his family, and the Titans breaking up was viewed as his fault, so instead of being against personal relationships he is the one trying to make this new team - Starfire, Raven, and Beast Boy - his third chance). Instead of Dawn being knocked into a coma, I say it should be Mal (because then we can get Karen trying to save him and giving him robotic vocal chords which will allow him to do more, like sonic screams or whatever a la Vox, his post-Infinite Crisis identity). This will also further shine a light on their issues, because while Mal gave up heroics altogether, Karen would suit up time to time and Mal feels like Karen used his coma as an opportunity to give him powers because she wants him to be someone he’s not.

Their adaptation of the Nuclear Family was iconic™ so that’d definitely stay in (especially because Nuclear Family - one of the values they in the group believe in lol). The convent episode, too, although instead of flashbacks to Dick’s past we should have Starfire and how she grew up being the prisoner of warlords and experimented on; which is why she’s uneasy leaving Rachel with the sisters and then explodes when she sees Rachel strapped down because it triggers her. We will also have some of these hallucinations in the asylum scene. The episode with Dick and Jason would be replaced by the aliens who captured Kory coming back to take her to their planet, the team coming together to rescue her.

The biggest diversion, I think, would be after the asylum episode. The group escapes, except there’s no Arella, and it’s believed that Rachel sacrificed herself to tear the organization down and without her the group goes their separate ways. Dick goes to Donna Troy because he wants to know why, no matter how hard he tries, he can’t keep anyone around. Starfire is stuck on Earth and unsure about what to do next after finding out, in the replaced Jason Todd episode, that her sister sold her to the enemy. Gar doesn’t believe Rachel is dead. The three of them (plus Karen and Mal) receive visions from Rachel and realize that she’s still in danger and go to help.

Rachel is being held by the Cult of Blood and are working on setting up the ritual. By the time the group arrives to where she is, she is a happy member, and she tells them that they should join and be saved. They’re confused by the dreams they have - it’s Raven’s soul self fighting against her chains.

This season would culminate with the Cult of Blood capturing the group after Dick, not knowing when to leave well enough alone, rushes in and gets ‘baptized’ into the Cult and is brainwashed like Raven (although not like in that dumb dream episode that was ridiculous). He, like the others, are in attendance for the wedding between Sebastian Blood and Raven (which would be creepy because he’s 32 she’s 14), but at the pleading of Starfire Dick is freed from his mind control and releases them and they fight to free Rachel. It’s too late, however, as the ritual is completed and the ‘kiss’ is Sebastian drinking Rachel’s blood. Doing this opens up a portal which sucks up Sebastian and his followers, and is only closed after Starfire breaks through to Rachel and she gets control and closes the portal herself. The group leaves, stronger than ever, and assured that being Titans means more than being a team.

We’d get after credits scenes of the cult learning of Sebastian’s demise and their next plans, saying that “Junior” will have to be prepared earlier tha expected. Then, the other after credits scene - because Raven’s portal caused disasters across the world (”Raven ‘cleansing’ the world for Trigon’s arrival) - is Superboy breaking free.

Also, goes without saying, RAVEN WOULD HAVE HAD A BETTER WIG!

SEASON 2:

Goes without saying that season 2 would explore themes from the 1st season. Dick Grayson defining himself by who he is surrounded by, a season long search for an identity that is his and not what’s given to him (by Batman) and settling into the role as a leader as Nightwing (also, by retiring Robin, he won’t let the past haunt him). Starfire settling on Earth, her choice, and making friendships and relationships that last and help her realize this is her home. Raven is struggling to control the darker aspects of her powers after them being awakened during the ritual while also allowing herself to be a teenage girl. Beast Boy trying to fit in with this group while also wanting to prove that he can do more than just ‘turn into a green tiger’. Karen and Mal’s relationship would definitely hit rough patches (especially when Mal leaves the team and Karen because he only stayed with the team because of Karen). Donna recovering from the trauma of the original incarnation of Teen Titans, which is brought to the forefront once we introduce Deathstroke as having returned.

The second season, however, would start out not with any of these characters but with the continuation of the second after credits scene that introduced Superboy. That was one of my biggest gripes with the second season, how DELAYED the introduction of Conner was. You don’t have that scene and then keep us waiting for five episodes. Second season we enter on Superboy from the JUMP. Do the entire ‘Conner’ episode but only changing the ending, where instead of him saving Jason (because remember, Jason’s ‘dead’ at this point). Instead of that, he and Krypto are stumbling around a non-descript city, lost, unsure of what to do with their power, until they see a broadcast of the Titans saving people and realize that’s where they should head. On the other side of this, Mercy - having failed in recapturing Superboy - hire Deathstroke to go and find him. He accepts, and begins on his trail. This will help tie the antagonists’ storylines together so it’s not as disjointed as it felt in season 2 (instead of competing for the narrative they share it).

Then, we have the Titans doing their thing - Robin, Bumblebee, Vox, and Wonder Girl back in their costumes while Gar, Raven, and Starfire are training and learning while also helping take down villains in the San Francisco base. There are memories there, sure, but the others are doing their best to make it look like it’s not bothering them, Donna especially. We can have Arthur Light break out and go on a warpath for the Titans, and this can be our lead-in to the backstory episode of how the Titans became the Titans (because ‘Aqualad’ was one of the worst episodes of anything I’ve ever seen, badly written, poorly edited, and so misplaced). We see Robin, Wonder Girl, Aqualad and Speedy - Mia Dearden - coming together to chase down Dr. Light after an alert came in to the League that went unanswered because the League was busy dealing with something else. While fighting him, they receive help from Mal (in his Guardian identity) and Karen, and together they decide being a team is great and it’s nice having peers instead of mentors working iwth, so they form the Titans.

While in the midst of the big climactic battle with Dr. Light, where he’s firing on innocent civilians, he hits Superboy and nothing happens and Superboy helps them defeat Dr. Light. As they welcome Conner and he explains why he’s there, he’s struck in the back by a kryptonite bullet and we see Deathstroke watching from above telling Mercy it’s done. “So you’ll be bringing the subject back?” “Actually... there’s some business here I’ll need to settle first.” We’ll have another scene where, in an apartment, a young girl with white hair is watching footage from when Superboy was shot and recognizes a blur on the rooftop. She tells her brother, who tells her to leave it alone and if they lay low maybe Deathstroke will leave without realizing they’re here. She tells him that, despite what he or their mom thinks, she’s going to take care of him once and for all. This is Rose and Jericho.

Superboy is in a coma, the team trying to save him as the bullet didn’t fully kill him. Donna is shaken because it reminds her of what happened in the past, the last blow that spelled the end for the first generation of Titans. We get some more flashbacks. Showing Dick and Karen getting closer while Mal sort of stews silently, Aqualad getting into fights with everyone because he’s been trying their patience a lot (kind of like the friend you only hang out with because your dad is friends with his dad), and awkwardness between Donna and Mia since we learn they were interested in each other but never acted on it (because Donna is a lesbian and her and Aqualad were compulsory heterosexuality PLUS they could only mention Roy Harper but not actually show him). Soon we find out that Donna is being called back to Themyscria to finish her training, and the team throws a goodbye party. This is where Mal and Karen have a fight and she gets a bit too drunk, so does Dick because Donna is his best friend and he’s going to miss her, and they both have been feeling stress, so they hook up. Also, Mia leaves to tell Donna that she’s in love with her at the airport, and asks if it’s okay if she comes with (”It is an island full of women after all. I’m sure... this, us... would be more accepted than here.”) Before Donna can say yes Mia is shot dead by Deathstroke before her eyes. This, coupled with Mal finding Dick and Karen in bed together, leads to the Titans’ disolvement. We’ll see Kory comforting her while Dick searches for who shot the bullet with Karen and Mal, fearing that Donna might be right - and angry when she is.

They save Conner and he joins the Titans just in time to help them face Deathstroke, but also have to contend with Rose who isn’t on Deathstroke’s side but also isn’t friendly with them. It’s only when Jericho comes to them and explains his and Rose’s backstory, of being Slade’s kids, do they understand and work out an agreement to help take down Deathstroke and his backers (who turn out to be Cadmus).

Meanwhile, with Deathstroke taking too long, Mercy approaches Conner with an offer to let them help him and that the Titans are only pretending to be his friend, meanwhile they only care about his powers; but in the end they’re kids and don’t know what they’re doing. When this fails to work, they kidnap him and Krypto, replacing him with a version of Conner who is obedient to them to work as an infiltrator. Mercy then approaches Deathstroke, showing him she has a guy on the inside, and tells him that she’ll help him take down the Titans but they’re doing this her way.

Eve, imprisoned by CADMUS, helps Conner and Krypto escape (by sacrificing herself or not by sacrificing herself, dealer’s choice), and they hurry to the final battle between Deathstroke & Cadmus vs. the Titans. Just when it looks like they have Deathstroke beat, ‘Superboy’ turns and starts attacking the others. Conner hasn’t arrived, and it looks like everyone is down for the count. The fake Superboy (Match) has Kory in his grips and is attacking her, only for Donna to recover and tackle him. She batters him, punches him, and as she’s about to strike him again he uses his laser vision to strike Donna through the heart (a la Graduation Day - a much better way to ‘kill Donna’ then by electricity). Superboy arrives too late to save her, but he does take the other Superboy away before he explodes (Mercy’s final play - it would’ve killed Deathstroke too). Conner is still alive, and he’s saved everyone. In the confusion, Deathstroke slipped away.

We wind down, Rose and Jericho promise to hunt Deathstroke down and make him pay for his crimes. This will at least explain why they aren’t in s3 (which sucks, because Rose was GOOD). Raven still promises to bring Donna to Themyscira and work on bringing her back. Conner isn’t blamed for Donna’s death and they reassure him that they’re his family and welcome him back. Dick has taken on the Nightwing mantle and accepts the responsibility of being a leader, and that while he might not have been mature enough in the past, he can’t let that define him - only he can define who he is). Kory wants to go with Raven, but understands that she needs to stay with the team and only wishes Rachel luck, hoping Donna can return from the dead. Mal rejoins the team, he and Karen promising to be better to each other. Gar’s feelings of uselessness will continue because, as Conner’s best friend, he should have known something was off.(I don’t see this plot point ever being fully resolved until maybe later on).

Deathstroke wouldn’t die because you don’t WASTE Deathstroke! Killing Deathstroke cuts off so much potential in terms of storylines. I mean, there goes the Judas Contract which, despite us already having a varied animated retellings, would be beloved if done live-action and right.

Also, sorry to my DickKory fans but season 2 would lay the groundwork for some DonnaKory endgame - although the main romantic struggle would be between Dick, Donna, and Kory, with Kory at the middle and Dick and Donna the best friends who fight over her.

SEASON 3:

If we are working within the parameters of this season, and want to tackle Red Hood, there is a possibility that I’ve been thinking over and will expand upon here.

As I’ve mentioned before, Jason is dead. Because of this, Batman has abandoned his crusade against crime in Gotham because he feels there is no point to his battle and can’t continue. He’s been gone for a long time, however, this is the season where I would introduce him. He comes to visit San Francisco and Dick a very changed man, smiling, brightly-colored clothes, very into new age mysticism (”This is Batman?”). We find out that, after Jason’s death, Bruce went out on a new mission, to find a way to be at peace over the things he can’t control, and so through this journey he’s discovered inner peace and how to live despite all he’s lost. And he’s come back to Dick to share this knowledge with him, as a way to make up for indoctrinating him with these bad habits and instead lead a healthier life (crimefighting being like a drug). This will put Dick in a crossroads, questioning if he’s doing this (this being heroics) because he’s trying to use it to heal or if he really is meant to be a hero. This will be the season where the driving question is - Why Do We Don the Masks?

At the end of the first episode, however, we do the scene where the crime bosses meet up and Red Hood introduces himself, saying that he’s going to be taking control of all the criminal enterprises in Gotham.

This catches Barbara’s attention, and so she contacts Dick to fly back to Gotham and help contain this. After her appointment as Commissioner, she’s made great strides in helping clean up Gotham - especially in the tough months that followed once Batman retired (”Joker’s been imprisoned in the Slab, and he’s been abnormally quiet”). They still come up against costumed criminals but the police are better prepared to fight them, especially with help from Barbara, who knows the strategies, and Lucius Fox, CEO of Wayne, who helps develop non-lethal tech for the police to use in the battles. What’s also been helping is a small group of crimefighters who have taken to the streets, picking up the slack after Batman’s disappearance. (Barbara, “But this Red Hood... he might be too much for them to handle. We don’t want another me, or worse... another Jason.”) Dick promises to help, with both Red Hood and this group of kids - especially because one of them has taken to calling himself Robin.

That’s right! I’d introduce Young Justice in s3 - composed of Robin (Tim Drake), Spoilers (Stephanie Brown), Hawk and Dove (Hank Hall and Don Hall). Tim saw what was happening to his city after Batman quit, and decided enough was enough and became a vigilante to honor him and Jason, taking up the Robin mantle. He met up with Stephanie Brown, daughter of criminal Cluemaster, and brother Hank and Don Hall, who were working as vigilantes targeting molestors (very in-line with how Titans showed them, they’d just be younger). They’ll end up in a situation where they’re in over their heads, only to be saved by Nightwing who tells them with no uncertainty that they need to shut their operation down or else they’ll end up hurt (because they’re untrained).

Meanwhile, back in San Francisco, Starfire isn’t handling Donna’s death nor Rachel’s absence well, and is being inundated with strange visions that is making her act out of character. What’s not helping is that Bruce Wayne has decided to stay in San Francisco with them while Dick is in Gotham. Conner and Gar are enjoying this relaxed, free-spirited Bruce (he’s like the fun uncle), but it drives Kory crazy. These visions are from her sister, and even though she hates her for selling her, after finding out she’s on Earth and trapped somewhere, she goes to rescue her with Gar and Conner at her sides. They resuce her and bring her back, and Blackfire ‘apologizes’, telling Starfire that it was either Kory or their planet - and as the eldest she made the tough choice so their people wouldn’t suffer anymore harm. Starfire accepts this and welcomes her back. Also happening in San Francisco, Karen and Mal are at a crossroads because of a new development - she’s pregnant. This has put a stop on her hero journey, and while she is excited about being a mother she also wants to be a hero and we see more of them trying to work through their problems. Gar is also using Bruce to indulge himself so he doesn’t have to think about being the ‘useless’ member of the team, using his powers like a party trick to feel like he’s useful, which worries Conner.

In Themyscira, Raven pours through their texts to see how she can resurrect Donna. While there, she befriends and is aided by a young girl, Cassie Sandsmark, who is staying on the island with her mom while doing work (archaeology work); together, they find a way to reach Donna in the afterlife through an ancient ritual most of the Amazons are wary of. This doesn’t stop them, and together they perform the ritual. Raven journeys into the afterlife while Cassie is there to wake Raven if things look rough; while in the afterlife she hears the voices of Sebastian Blood and the ‘dark’ side of her, but is reminded of who she’s searching for by a soft, familiar woman’s voice and makes it to Elysium. There Rachel finds Donna and Mia, together. Donna is wary about going back, because she is happy with Mia; but Mia and Rachel remind her that there’s happiness down on Earth and there’s a lot left to live for. Donna agrees to follow Raven back, but not before saying goodbye to Mia who tells Donna she will find love again, only she shouldn’t be afraid this time to say something about it. I’d also love to see a way to involve Dark Angel somehow, maybe as a dark force approaching to prevent Donna from returning to life?

Nightwing is working with Barbara to shut down Red Hood’s operations, but it’s not going too well. It’s starting to feel like Nightwing is being taunted now, too, because a lot of what Red Hood is doing feels personal, like he knows Nightwing behind the mask. Ultimately, when Red Hood catches Young Justice and gives them a good beating, Dick stops him and it’s revealed that Jason is under the helmet. We then find out how he was brought back to life when, just as Dick has Nightwing beat, someone intervenes and saves Jason - Thalia al Ghul. We get an episode dedicated to Jason’s backstory, where he wasn’t killed, only badly beaten to the point of death. However, it was assumed he died because of the explosion. Bruce couldn’t find the body, he assumed it had been obliterated. Really, Jason had wandered away and was found by strangers and admitted to a hospital with severe brain damage. One day someone came to collect him, Talia al Ghul. She brought him to her home and used the Lazarus Pits to revive him, then trained him in assasinry so he could do the one thing Bruce never could - save Gotham.

Dick, while recovering in the Manor with the kids from Young Justice, calls up Bruce and tells him that Jason is alive. This will lead to Kory finally confronting Bruce and yelling at him that he hasn’t ‘found peace’ and instead switched coping mechanisms. This inspires Bruce to return to Gotham, the Titans following him (save Karen and Mal). Donna and Rachel meet them there, and we get the reunions plus Young Justice meeting the Titans.

We get reports that the Joker has escaped the Slab, and we find out Jason has kidnapped him. As the team investigates across Gotham, Dick goes on his own to where he knows Jason has Joker. They fight, with Jason threatening to blow them all up because as long as the Joker is dead it doesn’t matter. “He deserves it. He deserves it for all hat he’s done. For what he did to me! Please... why can’t you let me do this?” Bruce arrives, at that point, to tell him why. Because it won’t change things. Jason yells at Bruce, then, and Bruce accepts it. We also hear from Bruce about why he didn’t kill Joker, though he was close. Bruce admits that he snuck into Arkham with the decision to kill the Joker, but stopped just outside his cell. He realized that it wouldn’t bring Jason back, just as it wouldn’t bring his parents back, and he didn’t want to disappoint Jason by becoming a killer. Jason and Bruce make up, though Joker still dies - Thalia kills him. “If you won’t ensure a safer world, my Darling, I’ll do it for you.” She then detonates the explosives to escape and the three barely escape with their lives.

You’d think they’d get some rest, then, huh? WRONG! Because while searching for Jason, Blackfire betrays Kory and reveals she sold Kory so she could secure her position as ruler of Tamaran. A warship then appears in the sky where Blackfire takes Kory, announcing that Gotham will be the first city to fall during the invasion.

The s3 finale would then be the Titans vs. aliens as they drive off the alient threat, with Donna, Jason, and Dick working together to free Starfire from her sister. We’ll get a final battle between Starfire and Blackfire where Starfire asserts her status as the stronger sister, and that while she wishes Blackfire wanted a relationship between them, she won’t cry over it anymore. Blackfire takes her fleet and leaves Earth after facing humilation, and the group returns to Wayne Manor to celebrate.

Bruce has decided that, not only will he return to Gotham, but Batman will be coming back. He won’t be alone, as he’ll have a team with him. Jason decides to stay in Gotham and work on his relationship with Bruce, although knowing he will have to go out and find Thalia at some point. Hopefully by then, Tim and Steph will be well-prepared to stand on their own as Robin and Spoiler - inducted into the Batfamily. Hank and Don choose to go with the Titans back to San Francisco, especially since they were very impressed with their teamwork and Gar, who was able to transform past a tiger into something else.

We won’t be involving the Scarecrow in this. Scarecrow’s involvement wasn’t about the Titans and more of DC trying to tie him in elsewhere since Fear State will be starting soon. Plus *spoilers* Bruce killing Joker was the worst decision for Titans to do. It only served to do away with Bruce Wayne so he wouldn’t be involved in the show anymore which they could have easily solved if he wasn’t introduced too early. Keeping the Titans in Gotham for the entire season feels incongruent to who the team is and what the team is about, so if they divided the storyline between Gotham and San Francisco it’d probably play easier and allow for the characters to grow in their own way instead of being chained to the one prevailing storyline that is Under the Red Hood. And when they come back to San Francisco the Titans realize the benefits of training the youth of heroics and commit to teaching Rachel, Gar, Conner, Hank, and Don - and they introduce Cassie who joins them after getting the go-ahead from her mom and Diana. While Karen might not be able to delve into heroics for awhile because of her baby, she can still help by teaching. This will then lead into the next season which would be Titans vs. H.I.V.E. Academy, reintroduction of Slade, and bringing Terra into the fold while also having Rose and Jericho return, too.

Season three would sort of test everyone, give them the option to walk away from being a hero or choose being a hero, and strengthens their resolve to continue, comforted by how this is their choice and it’s what they’re good at.

If anyone from Titans reads this and wants me for s4 feel free to contact me

[lala-ladybug]

Healing Hands: Chapter 7

Little bit of a filler, but we’ve got some fun shenanigans in store! >:)

Jasonette Sword Art Online AU

Read here on AO3

Chapter 7: Guys bein’ dudes indeed

Tag list: @iloontjeboontje

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Marinette was up early again. She found herself some breakfast, then went to the stables. The Order had made it back late last night, so they didn’t have time to groom the horses. She entered the first stall and started to brush the first horse. The routine motion let her mind drift, and she thought back to the events of the past few weeks.

Marinette, Kagami, and Luka embarked on their daily ritual of collecting the morning paper from town. It was the day after they’d beaten the first boss, which they had reported anonymously. Marinette and Adrien had agreed that taking the credit would only serve to draw unwanted attention towards their group, which could put them and the rest of their friends in danger.

But it apparently had another unforeseen advantage. As Marinette paid for the newspaper that highlighted their victory, she heard comments from other players around her.

“Are you serious? Some party went rogue and beat the first dungeon on their own?”

“Selfish assholes, can’t believe they got all that loot to themselves.”

“Well I think it’s good that we’re making progress!”

“Yeah, if you ignore the fact that they didn’t tell us what it was like at all, so now we haven’t got a clue how to face the next one.”

She shook her head in disbelief and glanced at her companions, who looked similarly concerned. They hadn’t even considered that the other people might not want them to take up the battle alone. Or that last comment, that they were actually hurting the other players by not giving them the chance to fight too.

The three remained quiet until they returned to Chloe’s house, or the manor, as they’d taken to calling it. By then, Adrien and Chloe were awake, and followed without question as Marinette ushered the two to join her, Kagami, and Luka out by the well.

She told them what the people in town had said, Luka and Kagami jumping in with additional comments they’d heard from passersby, and they talked it over. Maybe it was worth fighting with other groups. It would certainly beat the first boss.

They decided to try working with others for the next dungeon, but to lead the battle so that the civilians would stay as safe as possible. There were already groups in town recruiting for it and people exploring the second level, so it couldn’t be too long before they found the next fight. They’d be ready this time, they thought.

Less than two weeks passed before they were ready to take on the second dungeon. The Order had spent the whole time training and leveling up. There was hardly a moment where they weren’t fighting monsters or sparring with each other. They became almost more adept with their new weapons than they were with their ones from the real world. Those days of miraculous encounters seemed a lifetime ago.

The Order made preparations with other groups of players, determining strategy and planning to play to each others’ strengths. All the parties assembled at the dungeon and set up to fight the boss.

All things considered, it could have gone much worse. The support teams kept all the fighters’ HP high, and they had whatever cover they needed whenever they needed it. The battle was significantly shorter with around forty players there. But when the other players got hit....

Marinette could still hear the screams of the civilians as they went down. The blood oozing from their wounds was so very lifelike, and there was no cure to sew them shut. Or bring them back if they fell.

Kagami and Adrien were focused on taking what would have been killing blows if the boss had struck anyone but them. Chloe and Marinette drew fire away from the other players, and Luka used his mace and shield to defend his fellow healers. But Marinette saw the pained look on his face at being separated from the rest. She relived the moment Kagami and Adrien went down while fighting the first boss in frequent nightmares, and she knew Luka did too. The two of them had shared a few too many late-night cups of tea while avoiding sleep.

They won the battle, but there were so many wounded, so many close calls. One look at her Order and she knew they felt as lost as she did. Was it worth it? The thought seemed to echo through each of their movements as they returned to the manor.

“Marinette?” Alya’s call shook her out of her daze. She looked down at her hands and saw that she’d finished brushing the last of the horses. Putting the brush away, she returned to the main space in the downstairs of their home.

Home. She supposed that’s what it was now, but it didn’t feel like it. The design of it was very cozy, there was no doubt about that. But she saw it as little more than a place to eat and sleep. There were far more important things she could be doing, sitting down to relax was out of the question.

“There you are,” Alya grinned from the kitchen. “Feels like I haven’t seen you in days!” She carried a simple charcuterie board into the living/dining area and placed it on the table. Nino, Adrien, Lila, Alix, Nathaniel, and Luka were already sitting in the various couches and chairs gathered around it.

“We were just about to have a snack and play some cards,” Alya said over her shoulder as she used a poker to encourage a small fire in the hearth. “You should join us, girl!”

Marinette’s gut response was to refuse, and she waved her hands and made excuses but Luka and Adrien got up and marched her over to sit next to them. “C’mon Buginette, you need this,” Adrien said quietly in her ear. Luka just gave her a meaningful look.

Over-protective mother hens.

She sighed and gave in. One afternoon of cards couldn’t hurt.

Nathaniel was on her other side. While Alya dealt out the cards, Marinette asked him, “How’s the garden coming along?”

His face lit up with a quiet joy. “It’s going great! I don’t know if the weather is going to change, but the onions are taking nicely!” She listened with a small smile on her face as he went on about the different crops he was planting in the garden. He’d really stepped up to grow the bulk of their food, and seemed to genuinely enjoy spending his days taking care of the plants.

She was glad that he could still talk freely to her, even in the game. They’d always been close and it was nice to see his artistic spirit was unbothered by... everything.

Adrien nudged her to play her turn, and she did so quickly. Across from her, Alix and Nino were laughing at something Lila had said, and Alya sat up proudly with a comment that made them laugh even harder.

On Adrien’s other side, Luka had his hands of cards facedown on his lap while he strummed a lute he’d bought the other day. The pleasant melody lifted her spirits and reminded her of happier times.

This is what she was fighting for, she realized. For Nathaniel to take pride in his art, for her dear friends to laugh, and for Luka to play his music. She blinked away the tears that rose in her eyes. This is what was worth fighting for.

Even if she couldn’t bring herself to sew, to create like she used to love doing. Here she just had to be Marinette the friend or Marinette the fighter. It was almost easier, having less to manage. And yet... she couldn’t feel that same joy for herself that she found so precious to her friends. Not until they were all home again. She couldn’t let herself.

* * *

Jason trudged into the base, pack digging into his shoulder with all the loot he’d recovered. He’d spent the past few days camping and level-grinding, which was apparently the correct term for it. He couldn’t even remember what Dick had said to set him off, but he needed to be on his own for a while. The woods were surprisingly peaceful, and he found the time spent by himself in nature to be refreshing.

“Hey.” Dick sounded pissed. The hell was his problem? Jason wasn’t even back long enough to do anything. Jason turned on his heel and raised his eyebrows. “What?”

Dick thrust a newspaper into his hands in response. He folded his arms, clearly expecting Jason to read it right then and there. Jason sighed loudly and slung his pack off. He turned his attention to the paper in his hand.

“Coalition of over forty players defeats second dungeon,” he read aloud. Shit.

“Just thought you should know,” Dick said in his I told you so voice. “When you went on your little adventure, you missed the next boss fight.”

Oh, now he remembered why he left! Because his “brother” is an asshole. “My little adventure was to get experience and level up,” he glared at Dick. “Which is still doing something more productive than just sitting on my fuckin’ hands.”

Dick’s nostrils flared. Good, he was itching for this conversation. “We are not doing nothing. We need more time to practice with the gameplay. Hell, Gar still tries to shift when we spar!” He threw up his hands in frustration. “We’re nowhere near ready yet, Jay.”

“You know, there’s more to this game than fuckin’ sparring.” Jason retorted.

Dicks brows shot up. “Oh, that’s rich coming from the guy who so desperately wants to get back to our lives that he runs off on his own.”

“I can’t stand being cooped up in this damn house all the time! Just because we’re stuck in this game doesn’t mean we have to stop living,” Jason shook his head. “We’ve already been in here for over a month, who’s to say how much longer it’ll be? We can’t just put our fuckin’ lives on hold the whole time.”

“Training to beat the game isn’t putting our lives on hold,” Dick rolled his eyes. “This place is a death trap in case you forgot. We need to train to get our lives back.”

This idiot just didn’t get it. “Oh sure, and in the meantime we can’t have any happiness or fun. Sounds pretty miserable to me.” He picked up his pack. “You can level up without training at all hours of the fuckin’ day, no matter what a certain black-haired, blue-eyed bastard says.”

Jason stormed out the door, bumping into Garfield on his way back outside. The kid stumbled backwards before pointing finger guns at him. “Nice alliteration!”

He ignored him and kept walking down the path that led into town.

“Hey, hey wait a minute!” Seriously kid? He heard that argument with Dick but still couldn’t take the fuckin’ hint.

Garfield caught up to him and said, “You know, for someone who was supposed to have a relaxing vacation, you sure look tense.”

“Fuckin’ excuse me?” Jason growled.

“Wh-what I mean is you’re probably looking for a way to burn off some steam!”

This was getting old. “Get to the point, kid.”

“On the third level, there’s a quest we can do to make our own guild!” Garfield bounced excitedly, keeping pace next to him. Well, a quest would certainly help get this new brotherly stress out of his system. “We want you to join us, pleeeeaaaase?”

“Hold up, who the hell is us?”

Garfield grinned at him. “Oh you know, just a couple of the guys.”

They’d reached a junction in the path that led to the main road. Waiting beneath the tree beside the signpost were Roy, Jaime, and Bart. The ex-speedster waved excitedly while Roy looked about as pleased to be here as Jason did. They got along swimmingly.

“Hey dudes, everyone cool if Jason joins us?” Garfield reached out to pat his back then hesitated as he thought better of it.

Jaime shrugged while Bart gave an enthusiastic thumbs up. Roy gave him a pitying look, like he’d been dragged into it too.

“Fine.” Jason muttered to no one in particular. “Are we heading out now?”

The other four got their things together. Jaime sent out party invites to everyone to better keep track of each other, which Roy and Jason reluctantly accepted. Garfield pulled up a pamphlet and started leafing through it. Jason spied the title, The Good Adventurer’s Guide to Guilds. Lovely.

“Alright,” Garfield snapped the papers shut and started walking down the path into town. “Let’s go to level three and get this bread!”

Roy narrowed his eyes. “The quest is to retrieve some bread?” He asked incredulously.

“Well, no but yes! But no. Man, we gotta teach you slang,” Bart slung an arm around Roy’s shoulders. The latter pushed him off and Jaime sped up his pace to plant himself as a buffer in between them as they walked.

Dumbasses.

The walk into town was easy, and they used the teleportation kiosk in the town square to get to the third level without a hitch.

The third level had some more interesting terrain than the plains of the first and second levels. Cliffs and quarries dotted the landscape in front of them. The main town itself was built onto a cliff, a gaping valley splayed out before them with minute details.

“Oh wow,” Garfield said. “This reminds me of that one town in France where--”

“Don’t care. Let’s move.” Roy cut him off and stalked down the winding road that would take them down into the valley. Jason smirked and followed suit.

Garfield made a face, then followed them along with the others. He pulled out his pamphlet again, then pointed them in the direction of the quest. Some quarry worker NPC wanted help collecting materials. If they got him everything on his list, he would apparently grant them the rights to start a guild? It made less and less sense as Gar read aloud from the paper.

They trekked on for a few hours, easily hacking apart the common monsters they came across. Between Jason and Roy, the others hardly had time to draw their weapons before the threats were gone.

“What’s better than this?” Garfield put an arm around Jason and Bart’s shoulders. Jaime grinned and put his arms around Bart and Roy. “Guys bein’ dudes!” He finished.

Roy, Bart, and Jason exchanged mystified glances. Roy and Jason had been out of the loop for roughly the same period of time, and Bart had told them before that not much of contemporary pop culture had survived into his future.

Guys bein’ dudes indeed.

Between the five of them, gathering the listed materials and getting them to the worker by sundown was easy. Well, it was easy for most of them.

“You look like a mess, ese!” Jaime exclaimed, seeing a very sticky and scratched-up Garfield. He groaned and replied, “Had to get tree sap. Trees fought back....”

Well, that served the little shrimp right, Jason thought to himself. He and Roy had been collecting gemstones, which could be mined out from the caves littered throughout the floor... or the infinitely more fun way of killing giant gemstone monsters. Take a wild fuckin’ guess which one they chose.

Jason was actually pretty content with the levels he’d gained from the quest. Not to mention getting his excess anger out from talking to Dick. It seemed like whenever he went to the house, there was always some type of disagreement between the two.

Damn. Maybe he should start saving for his own house.

His party currently stood in line at the guild registration office, also located on the third level. The setting sun cast a golden glow over the valley, highlighting the small clusters of houses dotting the countryside.

“Oh crap,” Garfield suddenly said. He danced nervously on his feet. “We did the whole quest, but I forgot the most important thing!”

Roy looked at him sharply. “What’s wrong?”

“We need a name for our guild!” Garfield wailed, clutching his hands to his head.

Seriously? Roy scoffed, “Why not just Justice League?”

Jaime rounded on him. “Are you nuts, ese? We can’t go around calling ourselves the Justice League. Secret identities and all that.”

Garfield paced in line, clearly thinking hard. “Hmm, justice. Juuuuustice. Just-ice. Just ice! Hey, we could do something with that!” He exclaimed.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Yeah that’s great,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “How about On the Rocks.”

Bart put a hand on his chin, looking thoughtful. “Well, we should add a little pizzazz to it, don’t you think?”

“I’ve got it! Rocky Road!” Garfield threw his hands in the air triumphantly. God this kid was excessive.

Jaime and Bart, after the former had explained it to him, voiced their approval. Roy and Jason looked at each other and silently commiserated over their unfortunate situation.

Rocky Road it was.

* * *

“Ugh, that was way harder than it needed to be.” Alya slumped over her battle axe.

Marinette giggled and offered her friend some water. “Well, a ton of other people are starting guilds too! So I guess there are limited resources for a while.”

Nino took the water from Alya after she’d finished with it. He drained it and looked heartbroken until Adrien handed him a new bottle.

The four of them had decided to team up and do the quest to establish a guild. Not everyone in the guild needed to attend the quest to establish one. So when Alya and Nino had approached Marinette and Adrien, asking if the original friend group could be the ones to do it, they couldn’t say no.

“Well, I just wish Marinette had told us about the quest sooner. Then we could have had an easier time!” Lila simpered, sweet as ever. Oh yeah, Lila had invited herself to come along too.

“Weren’t you also a beta tester?” Adrien frowned innocently.

Lila blinked, looking startled. “Oh yes! But you know about my memory issues. I really wish I could remember all these things to help us out,” she sighed dramatically. Typical.

“So!” Marinette decided to move that conversation right along. “We need a name for our guild. Got any ideas?”

Nino rubbed his arm. “Actually dudes, I’ve been thinking of a name for a while.”

“Oh? Let’s hear it!” Adrien smiled and nudged his best friend’s arm.

“Well, I was thinking we could be called Miracle Workers,” Nino began. Marinette traded a look of alarm with Adrien. “You know, because Alya and I used to be miraculous holders? And I thought it’d be kinda nice to honor Chat Noir, Ladybug, and the other heroes. We could use some of their strength right about now.” Oh, that was actually really sweet of him. Marinette offered Adrien a soft smile.

Alya looked at him fondly. Adrien, with a slight nod of approval from Marinette, gave him a side hug and said, “I think that’s a wonderful name.”

Lila tapped her chin. “I don’t know, workers seems a little odd to me. We’re more like leaders or executives.”

“Well, I think Miracle Workers is perfect, babe.” Alya leaned in to peck Nino on the cheek. “Let’s go with that.”

First | Previous | Next

[elareine]

the song better place by rachel platten and jay/dick or maybe just some jay-centric bat fam. hope this prompt works for you. love your fics <3

Thank you <3 That’s a very JayDick song, but I love writing batfam, too, so... have both. 

Steph took one look at Jason’s old-new room and pronounced: “You need to redecorate.”

“No shit.”

“Let’s go.”

Which was how Jason found himself in Ikea of all places. She even dragged a flustered-looking Tim with her, who proved to be supremely unhelpful when it came to curtain color (“I don’t think either red or purple will look good with those walls,” bullshit) but very willing to hand over his credit card. It was… fun. The room felt less like a tomb when Steph was done with it, which was great.

He told her that.

“Well, duh.” She grinned. “No one in this house knows how to decorate for shit. You should see what Tim did with his bedroom…”

Jason spent a minute considering his options. “Anime girls?”

“Nope.”

“Superman posters.”

“Nope, but I like the way you’re thinking.”

“Bad Picasso replicas.”

“Nooo,”

“I give up.”

“He did…” Steph paused dramatically. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. It still looks like it did in the eighties.”

Jason laughed, and she looked gratified. “Sounds terrible.”

They kept working on the bookshelf. Ikea was great for those; that’s why they went there in the first place. Well, that and the look on Bruce’s face when he saw the boxes.  

After a minute, Jason asked: “So… are you seeing a lot of Tim’s bedroom, then?”

“Yeah. So what?” She glared at him, which he was starting to realize was a sure sign that she was embarrassed.

“So nothing. Didn’t know that was happening again, that’s all.”

It took her a minute, but she softened. “Yeah. I… guess we’re giving it a second chance.”

“That’s cool,” he told her sincerely. “I mean, you could clearly do better, but he damn well knows what he’s got now.”

“Hmm.” Steph was hiding behind the shelf she was holding up, but he could still tell she was pleased. “So how about your own second chance, huh?”

…damn, he’d walked right into that one. “Shut up.”

—

“Home invasion in sector 6R. Three 1Cs, suspected armed. Neighbors reporting shots, five people in the house. Hood, you’re closest.”

Jason had already changed course. “I’m on it.”

He waited—this was the point where Batman would send a Robin or two after him, maybe even Nightwing or himself, “just as back-up.” There was no way they would let him operate as part of the team without close supervision for at least a year. Jason was determined to grit his teeth and bear it, even if he wasn’t sure for how long he could. He was chafing already, running like this with the others when he’d been on his own for so long.  

However, Bruce only confirmed that he’d heard him, and then the line went silent.

Huh.

—

There was no better time to be awake in the manor than the early morning in Jason’s opinion. The light fell softly into the kitchen as he entered, barefoot and in his pajamas.

Alfred was there, of course. “Good morning, Jason.”

It was their private ritual; had been even before Jason had moved back into the fold. Six a.m., tea and sandwiches. The only difference was that now, Jason hadn’t vanished by the time Damian stomped into the kitchen, glowering at them for being awake and having the audacity to send him to school.

It was kinda adorable, not that Jason would ever tell him that. Instead, he watched Damian make his way through his own breakfast and nodded toward the packed lunch waiting for him. “I see you’re not taking advantage of the school cafeteria, then?”

“Them?” The amount of scorn Damian managed to pack into a single word would have weighed down a ship or two. “They would not know good food if it chased after them with a sword.”

“Let me guess—still only three spices, and these are salt, pepper, and ketchup?” Jason asked.

“I believe there is a fourth one now—they have a particularly intolerable mixture that they like to label ‘Chinese.’” Damian’s whole face scrunched up with distaste. “It tastes nothing like what Mother used to cook.”

“While I am sorry to hear that,” Alfred inserted, “we will be late if we don’t leave soon.”

Damian grumbled but hopped off his chair. Jason glanced at the clock — seven a.m. Dick would get up soon. Might as well make him a sandwich, too.

He pulled the ingredients closer, already compiling a list of recipes in his head. Talia had shown him how to make most of Damian’s favorites. He could teach those to Alfred, no problem.

—

“Hood. Stop it right now.” Dick looked at him with big eyes, or so Jason assumed, considering they were both wearing their masks.

“No, continue.” Barbara sounded choked, audibly forcing down laugher.

And, hey. Love was one thing, but Jason knew who gave him the best intel night after night. “So big bird and B decide that they have to infiltrate this organization, right? Only… they’re all swingers…”

Her laughter was brighter than the streetlights.

—

Jason stepped into the corridor and silently closed the door behind him.

God, but it had taken a long time to get Dick tired and ready to sleep. Jason himself was still feeling too wired to pass out, but then he wasn’t operating on a 40-hour sleep deficit, so it was totally not the same thing.

He decided to wander down to the cave. Bruce was still up, of course, acknowledging Jason’s presence with a grunt. The only other person present was Tim, who was bent over some files.

…like, really bent over them. One could almost think…yup, he’d fallen asleep at the table.

Jason gently poked him. Then he harshly poked him. When nothing happened, he sighed and moved one arm under Tim’s legs, the other gripping his shoulders. The kid would fuck up his back if he stayed like that. It took a bit of effort, but they were soon making their way up the stairs, Tim cradled securely in Jason’s arms.

They’d almost made it upstairs when Tim stirred, blue eyes opening halfway and looking at him.

Heart in his throat, Jason waited. This family had a bad habit of coming awake swinging, and with Jason hovering over them… well, it wouldn’t be entirely unjustified, wouldn’t it? Especially in Tim’s case.

Tim grumbled and went right back to sleep.

—

Jason pinched his nose. Or tried to, but he was wearing his helmet, so he basically poked himself in the face. Judging from Duke’s expression, that wasn’t helping his point.

“So you decided to buy us time by…”

“Ninja traps,” Cassie finished for him. Looking as if that made total sense.

“Ninja traps.”

“Well, it was more of an obstacle course, really,” Duke added helpfully.

“Okay, that’s a weird-ass move, but I can respect that. Then why did that warehouse explode?”

“Fire.” Cassie’s expression gave nothing away.

Jason looked to Duke. “What she said.”

“And the fire was there because…?”

“Fire is an obstacle.”

Jason groaned. “I cannot believe I’m the responsible person here,” he lamented. “Is this how you feel most of the time, D?”

There was laughter over the com. “Oh, Nightwing has finally acquired a co-parent,” Steph commented, followed by Tim’s: “About time.”

(Everyone ignored Bruce’s “Hey!”.)  

—

“Jason.”

Bruce was hovering. He probably didn’t intend to it; it just came naturally. Jason still felt that nervous lurch in his stomach whenever Bruce did that, but he was trying to get over it, so he just asked: “Yeah?”

“Let me show you something.”

They went into one of the rooms behind Bruce’s office that Jason had always assumed held nothing but files. He was very wrong.

“After you… left, I found myself reading books and thinking—he would’ve loved that.”

The walls were lined with bookcases. There were special editions of Jane Austen reprints, thick sci-fi novels, and nineteenth-century murder mysteries. It was eclectic and weird and precisely what Jason liked. What they both liked.

“I kept collecting them,” Bruce told him, voice too even. “Just… in case, I suppose.”

Jason stared at the shelves and shelves full of books, all read exactly once. His eyes were stinging because the glass display downstairs—that was bullshit. That uniform was about and for Bruce, and the new Robins, not Jason.

But this?

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Bruce almost-smiled, relief written across his face. “You’re welcome. Uh. I’ll leave you to it.”

Jason let him take two steps, then he said: “Bruce. If there was ever a time for a hug, this is it.”

“Oh. Right.”

Jason let Bruce pull him into an embrace—hugged back just as fiercely and told him: “It’s okay. You can stop grieving now. I’m here.”

If Bruce’s shoulders were shaking, neither of them mentioned it.

—

It was a total accident. Jason had felt like holding Dick’s hand, so he did. It was only when he looked up and caught Tim’s eye that he remembered—right. They were surrounded by Dick’s family. Their family.

Tim winked. The conversation didn’t stop. No one else commented or even gave them a second glance.

Something in Jason exhaled.

Dick squeezed his hand, smiling at something Damian was saying, and ugh, sometimes Jason was so full of feelings, he didn’t know what to do with it. Dick was just so—so—

Yeah. Jason was so fucking gone for him. All he could think about was how it would feel if there was a ring, there, pressing against his own.

He leaned back, adding a sarcastic comment or two to the conversation just to bask in the sunshine of Dick’s laughter. That thought warranted some serious consideration, not to mention talking to Dick, but—just the idea that he could have that? That he trusted himself, and Dick, and their family, enough to have that?

It was more than enough.

—

(Three days before Jason moved into the manor, Dick called a family gathering.

“Why is Jason not here, then?” Tim asked, frowning. “If it’s a family matter, it concerns him, too.”

Dick could kiss him for that. Instead he said: “Because it’s about him. I’m gonna lay down some ground rules, okay?”

Jason letting Dick convince him to move back in with them… that was huge. And dangerous. Dick had figured out long ago that Jay and Bruce had no idea how to handle each other anymore. Neither did the rest. That didn’t mean they didn’t want to. Dick was hopeful.

It was just… Jay was the best thing in Dick’s world; his support, his light, his conscience. He just made everything better. And Dick had no intentions of letting their family or anyone else fuck that up.)

(I’m taking prompts.)

[supermanshield]

Naps are overrated, anyway

~~~

There is a picture in the watchtower cafeteria of Superman and Batman, asleep on the Javelin. 

This is the story of how it came to be, and why Batman let it be.

~~~

Words: 4,092

Relationship: Clark/Bruce

A/N: I had the idea for this story a year ago. For the longest time, the summary you see right now was all I had typed out. Only now, after reading a bunch of JLA vol. 1 did I finally find the right characters, the right feeling and overall vibe, and wrote this in the past three days. 

It doesn’t completely comply with continuity, because while I imagine this set somewhere in the 1997-2006 JLA run, Bruce mentions 6 kids (he would have only had 2 at the time + a dead Jason), although they don’t make an appearance. And I'm actually not sure if the Javelin is a thing in that run, maybe that's just a DCAU thing. Just go with it.

Also, Bruce is a bit of a boomer in this. idk, I had fun writing him. 

Read on AO3

______________________________________________

Batman doesn’t nap.

.

However, that is not to say that Bruce doesn't. He's nearing 45 years of age, not a grey hair on his head, but if he were to grow a beard now, or a moustache like his father, it would show a mix of salt and pepper, so he shaves it off, vigorously and every day. Moustache and beard, those are the first things to turn grey. Then the eyebrows. When that happens, Bruce will lose. He will give in to his age and keep his beard. Not yet. If Clark ever walks in on him during his morning ritual (probably soon), he will look at him with that forgiving smile. He will say what he thinks of it, because that's what he does. (Keep it, I like it, Bruce hopes secretively, but there is a sadness present in Clark's eyes that he will never completely understand, and that's exactly why he shaves).

Clark has seen it already though, he's sure. His 5 o'clock shadow must look like a foggy forest to Clark’s microscopic vision, and even worse in the morning, right before his shave. Clark hasn't mentioned it. A conversation for another day.

If his children ever found out about this particular insecurity, all 6 of them would laugh.

 Bruce never really napped, or took time out of the day to simply rest, but now, Clark is there. To pull him onto the couch in the study when he's on his way to his desk. To keep him in bed after sex and before patrol. To fly through his window at WE at 50 floors up and pat next to himself on the couch in Bruce's office, door locked, and red cape hung up in the corner.

"It's time," he says. Every time. "You need one."

Bruce will raise his eyebrows. "Already, hmm?" he asks, almost every time.

He's made the mistake of sending him away before. (He won't do that again). Clark is the most stubborn man Bruce knows. He will say the same thing about Bruce, but that's beside the point. And It's not as if Clark distracts him from a case or work; he knows exactly when he has some time and is unable to make excuses.

Bruce is used to taking 20-minute power naps in uncomfortable positions on his desk chair, at the kitchen table behind the newspaper, with his feet up in the batmobile.

Clark sets the alarm for one hour. He pulls Bruce into a horizontal position against that broad chest, either spooning him or facing him, encasing him in his large arms (there are still 76 ways out of his hold, but Bruce can't think of a single one worth a try). They sleep.

Apparently Clark needs naps too, even though he doesn’t need sleep. Bruce has been meaning to ask him about that, wonders if it's a mental thing, a kind of meditation. Therapy.

His naps are dreamless. Afterwards, his return to consciousness is quick, he reorients on the surroundings, on Clark. Kissing him is a good strategy for grounding, Bruce has found. And just like that, they get on with their day again, because there is no time for dwelling, for another moment together. Nevertheless, Bruce is happy with what he does get. It’s more of Clark - and more time with him - than he deserves already.

 So, Bruce naps.

 ---

 After a long mission off-world, the league is on their way home towards the watchtower in the javelin. Diana is flying, with J’onn at her side in the co-pilot chair. The rest of them are hauled up in the back of the vehicle, they’re tired, exhausted, just trying to get some rest. Even Wally sits still. Only Batman is pacing up and down, his mind already on Gotham, on home, the cases that were open, the ones that he was *this* close to cracking. Batman doesn’t nap.

His mind is wandering, going at a speed that would make even Clark dizzy, but the puzzle pieces don’t make sense. Yet. His heavy boots are silent on the metal floor of the javelin, his cape a mere whisper of wind behind him as he turns to pace the other way again.

“You’re driving me crazy,” Hawkgirl’s voice cuts through the relative silence of flying through space (beeping, machinery, turbines, the jet - there’s a lot). She holds up one of her large wings, cutting Batman off from his path. “Sit down.”

He does. Next to Superman. A big mistake, although he doesn’t realize it until much later. No need to upset his teammates. He can meditate instead, stay awake. The noise of the jet doesn’t make it easy, but it can be done. Clark smiles calmly at him.

He sits straight, eyes open, breathing focused, and the turmoil in his brains slows down. Soon, they’ll reach Earth’s solar system and he’ll have access to the batcomputer. Not soon enough. Next to him, Superman is a steady support of a brick wall, but his shoulder feels warm and soft against Bruce’s, even through the suit. Underneath the cape and hidden from view, Clark’s thumb rubs circles into his side, lower back. He knows exactly what he’s doing. A Pavlovian effect has Bruce relaxing his shoulders, if only slightly. None of his teachers ever taught him how to deal with a superman when trying to meditate. His superman. His annoyingly super man.

His last thought is of Clark, and that it must be irritating to have a bat ear poking into his cheek. But then again, rarely anything physical ever annoys the Man of Steel. Then, finally, he dozes off, the roar of the jet diminished to a distant snoring.

 ---

 Bruce is proud of the watchtower. His watchtower. It stands erect on the bright side of the moon, pointing towards earth. Always looking out. Within such an enormous structure however, some simple rules are needed. There is a long list next to the fridge in the break room, and one in the meeting room. No running unless there is an emergency. Masks on outside of one’s own room. Food is to stay in the cafeteria (he’s found everyone and Clark with various wrappers and chips bags in the monitor room, so he gave up on that – it’s crossed out). Training gear stays in the gym. The coffee machine has to be cleaned once every 2 days - the stuff isn’t that good, not what Bruce is used to, but it has helped him through several meetings and dull monitor duties in the past.

. 

A couple days after returning from their outer space mission on the javelin, Bruce returns to the watchtower. There are several new members to have a meeting about. He has made up his mind on all of them already, the meeting is merely a formality.

Connor Hawke runs past – one of the new proposed members, codename Green Arrow after his father – and Supergirl flies over his head. “No running.” He stops them both with one move of his arm and a line on a batarang.

Kara turns towards him and slips out of his trap easily. “I wasn’t even running, B,” she says while she floats down. Connor has crossed his arms and looks out the window, Batman’s line still taut around his upper arms.

“There are rules. If you want to be in the Justice League, behave like it.” He reminds her of the proper use of code names too, for good measure, and unties Connor.

With a sigh, both young heroes are off, making their way towards the break room. Bruce follows them and finds Wally and Kyle already inside, but as soon as they see Batman turn the corner they scurry out through the door on the other side.  

It’s the first clue that something is amiss. The newer heroes standing around the fridge and chuckling, the second. Bruce lays eyes on the offending appliance and feels his body tense. If smoke could come out of his ears, it would.

“Flash!”

 ---

 The standard size piece of paper lies on one of the metal surfaces in the computer area of the cave. Bruce tries to ignore it while he works, but the primary colours of Superman’s suit in the image are a thorn in his peripheral vision. With a swift move and a smack, he turns it around, and gets back to his files. He has sent his notes for the meeting to the watchtower, reported that he’s too busy to attend.

He works on some of his own active cases, gathering data and looking at evidence. Most of it is paperwork, boring but necessary. He slowly makes his way through every file, meticulously and efficiently. Everything gets reported and written down in case a pattern reveals itself later. The puzzling can be done when he’s more focused. Meanwhile, the cases that are solved and closed get a little custom-made bat-stamp on the front of their manila folder before they get filed away. Alfred brings down coffee, the good kind. Time passes quickly and he’s still busy when Clark flies in.

“Hey,” he walks up to Bruce and bends down for a quick kiss. “I thought you’d be at the meeting today. Diana said you were busy.”

Bruce points to the piece of paper in explanation, Clark turns to grab it. “Wally happened. And I’m always busy.”

“I see. He seemed almost unnaturally giddy today. Oh hey, look.” Clark holds up the picture of Batman and Superman, asleep on the javelin. In it, Clark’s face is peaceful, his mouth open, despite one of the ears on the cowl that is indeed poking his cheek. “We look cute.”

“Batman doesn’t do cute, Clark.”

Clark sighs. But you do, his eyes seem to say. No, I don’t, Bruce replies with his. “Where’d you get this, anyway?”

“Wally put it up on the fridge in the watchtower cafeteria. You didn’t notice him taking it last week?”

“Clearly,” Clark points to the Clark in the picture. “I fell asleep.”

“And here I thought you always listened to your surroundings.”

“We were in space. Not exactly much I can hear out there.”

Bruce gets up from his chair. Having a Superman has once again proven useless. Only Clark can do something so silly and time-wasting as sleeping, on purpose. Naps are overrated, anyway. They’ve had this discussion many times, Bruce knows the outcome. *Always* be on high alert, he will say. Clark will push back, it’s not that simple, he will say. Everyone needs sleep, his eyes pleading, apologetically somehow. They do.  But it has taken Bruce obtaining Clark’s powers in a freak magic accident and chasing after the sun and every criminal on the planet for 72 hours straight to realise that. Now he knows the desperation, the feeling that it will never end, the knowledge that in the end, not everyone can be saved, even if you try.

Everyone needs sleep, even Superman.

Clark watches him milling through these thoughts, it must be written on his face, and holds out his hand when Bruce’s features finally relax. He’ll just have a stern talking-to with Wally and Kyle next time he’s on the watchtower.

 .

 If only it were so simple. The next time he’s on the watchtower, the picture is back on the fridge. And in the main hallway. And in the transporter room, the trophy room, and the ground level bathroom. Bruce groans, suppresses the urge to face-palm. He takes the things down one by one, systematically going through the entire watchtower. Then, he has that talk with Wally. And with Kyle. Best to keep them separated. They snicker that it wasn’t them *this* time, and don’t seem scared of him at all.  

He’s either gone too soft in his old (not old, mature) age, or he should have designed the watchtower with a lot more corners for menacing shadows.

Wally and Kyle are both telling the truth, Bruce finds out in the next couple of days when more pictures return while Kyle is off in space and Wally is busy on earth. This time, it’s not just the one of them sleeping on the Javelin. A bunch of pictures have been put up in the break room. There’s one of Clark, asleep on monitor duty with his feet on the console (Bruce makes a mental note to talk to him about that). There, right there, that’s the reason why there always have to be two leaguers watching the screens. J’onn looking desperately at a small pile of Oreo crumbles on the floor of the meeting room. Diana vigorously devouring a tub of chocolate ice cream. And Batman, pointing at the camera, the other hand on his hip.

He has no idea who took it, but it has to be one of the speedsters. All he knows is that this has to stop. No matter if one finds this kind of thing funny, there are rules, privacy issues, secret identities and all that.

The security footage that Bruce watches back in the cave that night reveal some of the newer, younger members of the league sneaking around the watchtower with a roll of tape. They don’t know where all the cameras are, clearly. They don’t know the rules, clearly. Wally and Kyle have to have set them up to do this, clearly.

Clark watches with him over his shoulder. He chuckled when Bruce showed him the evidence earlier, but now his face is serious. He mouths an Oh. “This is getting out of hand. I’ll organize a meeting tomorrow.”

---

 The next day, in the biggest meeting hall on the watchtower, over 30 faces stare at them from across the large round table. Diana and J’onn are seated on their side, for good measure. They’re victims in this too. It’s intimidating to be called to the watchtower by Superman and Batman for a meeting on professional conduct, and even more intimidating to sit across four of the original members, especially for the new ones in the crowd. Good, Bruce thinks. He stands up, and so does Clark.

“Welcome, everyone,” Clark starts, the warm and commanding baritone all Superman. “We’re glad you could all make it on such short notice…” While Clark talks, Bruce regards the crowd of heroes standing nervously, or sitting on the few available chairs. Firestorm’s flame burns smaller than normal, the new Green Arrow has his bow clamped between both hands, and even Plastic Man seems to genuinely pay attention to Superman. Wally has his chin in his hands on the table, pretending to be interested, and Kyle only seems to pay attention to a scratch on the table’s surface. “…today is not an emergency, but it is important nonetheless…” Get to the point, Clark. “It seems that whilst we acquire more and more members for the JL, some of you think this is some sort of club and not an international organization to protect the earth,” he drones on. Arthur sighs, and for once, Bruce agrees with him.  

“I will not tolerate this any longer,” Bruce cuts Superman off brusquely, in his most serious bat-voice. “Take all pictures down. And if I see another one…”

Wally huffs, interrupting him. “No fun allowed on this godforsaken rock.”

Before Bruce can retort, Clark puts a hand on his tense shoulder. “What Batman is trying to say, is we can’t do this. Even if it seems harmless. Because if we get careless about the little things, we get sloppy, and if we get sloppy, the wrong information might fall into the wrong hands.”

“You’re just as paranoid as he is,” Plastic man points at Batman. “It’s a couple of harmless images.”

“And what did I just say?”

“You’re saying no fun allowed,” Kyle supplies this time. Once again, Bruce takes tremendous effort to suppress a face-palm, and crosses his arms instead. He grunts. Really, they have 37 children here. Not just the 6 back home – a rookie number. 37, except maybe not Diana. Maybe. “Man, we bust our butts for you guys. I’m behind at work, barely get any sleep or free time and you’re getting on our case for something as dumb as this!” Kyle throws his arms up in anger. Behind him, Connor tries to shush him.

“This is work just as much as your civilian job. And more important on top of that. If you want to slack off, you can do that back home. Not here.”

“Grumpy much, bats? Someone missed their morning coffee today…” Wally mumbles.

They continue staring at each other, but it’s Superman who breaks first, uncrosses his arms and sighs. “You can have a couch in the break room… and a tv.” he looks at Bruce. At his expense, of course. “That’s it. No more images of JL members. Leave your personal lives at home.”

“Fine,” Wally sits up. “We’ll take them down.”

 ---

 A couple days later, Bruce is back on the watchtower. No weird pictures greet him this time. Much cleaner. He steadily makes his way to the break room to grab a coffee before the current meeting, but only because he didn’t have time to wait for Alfred’s Italian brew anymore. Clark is with him, already more cheerful because of Bruce’s relatively better mood.

The cafeteria is still empty, the little kitchen still clean. Save for the fridge. There, prominently in the middle of the door, the original picture of Batman and Superman on the Javelin stares him squarely in the face. It’s held up by a pair of small Wonder Woman magnets this time. Clark says something behind him, but Bruce isn’t paying attention. As he gets closer, he can tell it’s different. The paper is thicker, a nicer quality. The image is not a print, but hand-drawn in a mix of coloured chalk and high-quality pencil. The lighting, especially, is magnificent. Kyle Rayner. A new addition is the caption in curly handwriting underneath the image:

 Even the world’s finest heroes need to sleep

 Now, Bruce face-palms. Hard. Clark mutters a fuck, but regains control quickly. “I’ve got to hand it to them; they have nerve.” Bruce ignores him as he opens the fridge to grab the milk for Clark’s coffee. “It’s a good quality to have.”

“Or a bad one.”

Clark shrugs. His face breaks out into a grin. “And, I have them on my side now.”

Oh, no. Bruce whips his head up from the coffee machine to look at Clark. “Batman doesn’t nap.”

Clark inclines his head, raises an eyebrow. But *you* do. It’s so goddamn frustrating when he’s right.

“Hn. You already have Alfred on your side, that’s enough. And I’ve been good about it.”

“According to your standards, sure. Don’t you think it’s time for one later today? After the meeting?”

“Not here,” Bruce whispers.

“Back home.”

Home. It’s a good thing the security cameras don’t record sound. “Okay,” he mumbles. “I’ve got some time before patrol.”

Clark’s grin turns victorious, and Bruce burns his tongue on the coffee while he tries to hide a smile himself. He’ll decide what to do about Kyle’s art project later. Right now, they have a meeting to attend to.

 ---

 The next morning, Bruce wakes up to Clark kissing his jaw, his mouth. He tastes like Alfred’s coffee. Too early, as always. Not early enough, as always, because Clark is already getting up for work. He considers pulling him back into bed and just straight up explaining to Perry that Clark is late again because he’s fucking the owner, but then he remembers yesterday’s incident. He’ll have to do something about it, obviously, but he’s not looking forward to acknowledging the whole thing yet again, maybe even admitting that the younger members are right, if only a little bit. Stupid watchtower clubhouse. His foul mood must be showing on his face, because all he gets is a “Let it go, Bruce” before Clark disappears into the bathroom. He comes back out in record time, fastening his tie. “Just, let it go. Let them have a little bit of fun. They’re young.”

But not doing anything about it is not an option. Not for Batman, and not for Bruce. “If I don’t retort, they’ll keep going. This won’t die out.” He sits up in bed. At the foot end, Clark is putting on his shoes. 

“It will. You can’t fight fire with fire, sweetheart.” He walks over to Bruce and kisses his cheek. That’s it.

“That’s it. I’m going to fight fire with fire.” Get down to their level. He has kids, knows what teenagers and twenty-something year olds think like.

“No,” Clark groans. It turns into a sigh. “I’m going to be late.”

Bruce gets up. “Then go. Have a good day at work, honey.” 

Clark clenches his jaw, and swings his messenger bag over his shoulder, giving up. “I’ll meet you for lunch,” he says, already halfway out the window.

Bruce closes it behind him, and then quickly makes his way down to the cave. He lets Alfred know he’ll have breakfast on the watchtower, dons the batsuit, makes a quick stop at his desk in the cave, and beams up to the watchtower. 9 am. He’s still on time.

---  

 At lunch time, the cafeteria is buzzing with excitement, more and more heroes gathering around the fridge as they point and whisper Really? And Do you even think it was him? And Wally, this must be another prank of yours. Bruce hears shushing and He’s right there while he drinks his coffee on the other side of the room. Finally, Clark walks in and takes a second to behold the spectacle, his brow furrowed, listening in. He clearly gives up on going to the fridge to get food, and instead makes a beeline to where Batman is sitting at one of the tables. “What’s going on? Did you remove it?” he asks as he sits down across from Bruce.

“I did not.”

Wally sticks his head out of the crowd and looks at the two of them. “Hey Bats! Does this mean we can keep it?”

Calmly, Bruce sips his coffee, pointedly ignoring the younglings and the little victory he supplied for them. But of course, and without skipping a beat, Clark notices his smug mood. He leans closer across the metal table. “What, did you put your bat-stamp of approval on it?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.”

Clark looks back over at the fridge with his spectacular vision to see what Bruce has done earlier, before anyone else was in the vicinity; his bat-symbol stamped onto the lower right corner of the caption. Later, he’ll add a rule to his original list next to the fridge. Only approved art and trophies allowed on the watchtower.

“I also hacked their phones and made sure there are no digital copies anymore,” he explains. “That should teach them to think twice next time.”

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

Bruce shrugs. After all, he’s heard it all before. Only this time, Clark is unable to suppress a smile, he puts a hand over his, and adds “I love you.” Even that is nothing new, he knows it already, but it hasn’t happened on the watchtower yet. He allows a smile to form on his face while Clark holds his gloved hand. The rest of the league is too busy with the commotion around the fridge, anyway.  

A few days later, he finds a copy of the drawing in the cave, this one with a small Superman stamp in the lower-right corner. It may just be exactly what he needs to see after a long night of patrol. Alfred seems happy about it too, and not just about the two people in it. He now simply points to the text with a stern face instead of obnoxiously and repeatedly clearing his throat whenever Bruce comes back from patrol battered and bruised or refuses to go up to the house and his bed.

There is another one in the fortress, although Clark doesn’t spend much time there. Bruce figures he can use the reminder whenever he does go there, so far away from humanity, to work on a case. And in Blüdhaven, Dick has one on his bedside table. The last time he visited Titans tower he noticed one in the hallway. Both of those not Bruce’s doing. He lets it slide, right of his cape and cowl and cool exterior. He just hopes everyone can keep it within their inner circles and that Batman and Superman won’t get turned into one of those ‘memes’.  

[dickgrayson80sremixmp3]

batboys h.c. #1 - hair

dick

- dick uses custom shampoo and conditioner because he is a vain bitch who never grew out of his trust fund baby ways (i’m picturing like the function of one here purely bc that’s what i have #notanad)

- he enjoys choosing the different colours and experimenting with fragrances; currently he has pear and apple which he likes but his heart lies with vanilla milkshake (soft)

- he’s an early bird (ha) and always works out in the mornings so he showers and washes his hair then

- he finishes his showers with a blast of cold water (one of a few reasons his s/o refuses to share showers with him) - he claims it’s to wake him up but it’s really bc he heard it would make his hair shiny and dick is very willing to suffer for Beauty

- dick mastered the towel turban at a very young age

- but nowadays he has a special microfibre turban to reduce frizz

- picture dick grayson standing in his kitchen eating cereal and making a gross green smoothie wearing nothing but the tightest black boxers and a towel turban

- never say i don’t do anything for you

- when it comes to styling dick is all about volume

- when he takes his hair out of the turban he works a huge blob of mousse into it and then spends up to twenty minutes scrunching it until it looks perfectly tousled

- he likes to walk around while he does this so he has mirrors all over the apartment sure that’s the only reason

- he has a habit of running his hand through his hair though so however neatly styled it starts out it always becomes a messy heap within a couple of hours

- still v charming tho

jason

- jason is working his way down the curly hair aisle of his local beauty supply store. he picks up a different shampoo and conditioner set every time

- he’s friendly with the puerto rican women who own the store and sometimes asks them for advice

- they’ve recommended that he try a co-wash but he’s secretly worried it won’t be tough enough to clean blood and gotham harbour water out of his hair on a regular basis

- his actual routine is v basic though

- step 1: he showers when he comes in from patrol around 4/5am and washes his hair

- step 2: uses a ton of conditioner every time

- step 3: puts a towel over his pillowcase and goes the fuck to sleep

- naturally he wakes up with a mess

- drags himself to the bathroom sink, wets his hands, and rakes his fingers through his hair until his hair is at least more evenly distributed over his head

- it usually sorts itself out to some extent eventually and he spends so much time with a helmet on that he’s not too fussed about how it looks

- boom

- thatse it

- he does have a secret self care ritual - it’s not regular but every couple of weeks or so he covers his hair in a deep conditioning mask and tucks it into an old shower cap he found under the sink. next the face mask goes on, he gets a smoothie/glass of wine/elaborate cocktail depending on his mood, fluffy robe, and settles onto his sofa with a book for a couple hours

- he only does this when he’s sure to be alone and interrupting this ritual is liable to get you shot (ostensibly a warning shot but he’s not particular about where he aims said warning shot)

tim

- listen i love tim to death but the truth is he forgets to shower on an upsettingly regular basis and his hair gets greasy easily :(

- luckily all it usually takes is an ‘ew snape’ and he’s off to the bathroom at a light jog

- a freshly shampooed tim drake however is the most beautiful thing in the world

- somehow manages to have nineties boy floppy curtains in the year of our lord 2020 and not look like a prick

- this boy is a serial shampoo thief and it is not uncommon for him to walk into a room, someone to sniff the air, and promptly beat him up for hair product theft

- will he learn from this? absolutely not

- when his bangs get long enough he tucks them back behind his ears (it’s adorable)

- even more adorable is when his s/o starts leaving hair accessories lying about

- timothy drake-wayne sitting in the batcave looking sternly over his case notes with glittery butterfly clips holding his hair back

- he does not use a single styling product on his hair it just does that

- perfectly straight and shiny every time, no cowlicks, no frizz

- it’s infuriating

- after a disastrous experiment with bleach in his early teens tim resorted to a buzzcut rather than let it grow out

- the effect was,,,,interesting

- he’s constantly threatening to shave it again but everyone knows he won’t go through with it bc he heard a barista at his favourite coffee shop swooning over his hair once and now he brings it up every time someone criticises him

- ‘oh yeah well if i’m such a waste of space how come i have “““ the prettiest hair in the world ohmygod it looks so soft don’t you just wanna touch it”””, damian’

- no that’s not the reason it’s his favourite shop what are you talking about

duke

- used to have it all figured out but a recent change in career path has left him high and dry

- before becoming the signal duke’s hair was the best on his street - he favoured twist braids but he was considering locs

- wearing a helmet has kinda limited his options, so his hair is in cornrows for now to make sure his helmet fits properly but he’s not mad keen and he’s trying to figure out how to broach the subject with his barber without compromising his secret identity

- speaking of his barber there’s only one guy at one shop who duke trusts with his fade

- the shop is in south gotham

- as in the other goddamn end of the city

- it’s a fuck ass long drive from the manor

- every time he goes he looks wistfully at his old street as they pass (a fifteen minute walk from his shop)

- his stash of products at the manor are the only ones safe from tim

- it’s not that tim respected his boundaries or anything but the one time he used one of duke’s deep conditioners without checking he came out of the shower with oilier hair than he went in

- duke brought his own satin pillowcases to the manor bc he guessed (correctly) that bruce would never think of it

- they make jason snigger bc he thinks it’s like a sexy thing (ooOOoo SiLk ShEeTs)

- duke just looks over jason’s hair with a judgemental stare and tells him maybe his curl definition wouldn’t be so poor if he got satin pillowcases of his own

- (dick and tim: OOOOOOOOO)

- ((roy, somewhere in star city: OOOOO, artemis: wtf are you doing ? roy: didn’t you feel it? the burn?))

- this one got out of hand rip

damian

- when he was with his mother and the league he never concerned himself with the toiletries provided for him he just used them

- it’s only when he comes to america and is presented with fake apple scented goo that he misses what he had

- the issue is that he doesn’t even know how to start looking for his old products, and it’s not like he can just call talia up and ask her which shampoo she used on him as a child

- he does consider it though

- mostly he just sulks until dick takes pity and tries to help him figure it out

- it is not successful and damian is now somehow mad ???

- as a distraction and filled with regret dick buys him a shampoo bar, the decision primarily based on proximity and novelty value - he hopes the time it takes damian to figure it out will give him time to get away

- this is more like it - damian appreciates the more sophisticated sandalwood scent and also its environmental credentials

- the downside to the bar is that it’s somewhat drying

- damian solves this issue with the only product he can remember his mother using - moroccan argan oil

- as a result his hair is now smooth, shiny, and ethical as fuck

- it also smells nice, which is the only thing tim can think of while damian is furiously challenging him to a duel, the top of his head directly under tim’s nose

- as a young ‘un damian likes to gel his hair into a part swoopy, part spiked quiff, which both highlights the thickness and lustre of his hair and also adds a crucial few inches to his height

- as an adult though just keeping it swept back neatly away from his face is enough

(a/n i rlly wanted to include duke in these headcanons bc he gets left out a lot but idk much about afro hair so if any obvious mistakes jump out to anyone drop me an ask and i’ll edit!! will also be uploading a batgals post next)

[gaygent37]

The Night of His Birthday - Day 23

No-Set-Prompt-List-tober, October 24: MIDNIGHT

JayDami, erotica writer Jason, older Jason, younger Damian, aged up Damian, no porn, 2,684 words

/╲/\╭( ͡° ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ͡°)╮/\╱\

“I met him at the Gold Rose. I was having a whisky on the rocks when he approached me.”

He was due for another story, and Jason knew just where to find it. 

The bar was called Rose Gold, and Jason had a glass of whisky, neat. He was watching the people mingle and chat. It was still early in the night, so the bar was far what it usually is on a Friday night. 

“He ordered asked the bartender for a margarita, which caught my attention.”

“Sex on the beach, please,” a voice said to the right of Jason. 

Jason glanced over, somewhat surprised to see a man leaning there. 

“What?” the guy asked, noticing Jason’s stare. “I’m not allowed to order girly drinks?”

Jason laughed. “No, no,” he said, sitting up. “You totally are.” He leaned in a bit. “It’s just this bar isn’t really known for mixing the best cocktails. Though they do make a really good margarita. When you’re already wasted, that is.” He lifted his own glass to the man with a grin. 

The man gave him a hard stare. Then, he sat down. “Then what is good here?” he asked. “I’ve never been here.” The lightest of blushes tinged the man’s face. 

Jason laughed. “Well, you can never go wrong with straight liquor,” Jason said, which is what I usually have. But their house beers are pretty good if you’re looking for a mellow night with friends.”

The man’s lips thinned. “My friends don’t drink,” he said. 

“That sucks,” Jason said. He watched the bartender set down the man’s drink before raising it to him. “Cheers, I’ll drink with you tonight.”

The man gave Jason a wry smile before clinking his cocktail glass with Jason’s. They both took a sip, and the man did not look particularly pleased with the drink he ordered. 

Jason laughed, he could not help it. “Told you. Not the best you’ve had, huh?”

“I’ve never... had a drink before,” the man said slowly. 

Jason blinked at him. “You’ve never had alcohol?”

The man shook his head. “Today’s my twenty-first birthday.”

Jason’s eyes nearly bugged out. He sat up suddenly. “You’re shitting me.”

“’Never?’ I whispered.

“’Never,’ he said back, his strong green eyes searing into my very soul.”

“You certainly don’t look it,” Jason muttered. “Well, since you don’t have friends to celebrate with tonight, I guess I’ll treat you. For your birthday.”

The man tapped his fingers again his glass. “Fine. One drink. I... I don’t want to take advantage of a stranger because it’s my birthday.”

Jason snorted. “Hang around a bar for a few more years, and you’ll regret not taking advantage of a stranger offering you free drinks.” He waved the bartender over. “Get this guy whatever he wants. On me.” He leaned towards the man. “Try a shot. It’s birthday ritual.”

The man grimaced, but he ordered a shot of tequila. Jason got one as well. 

The bartender poured it for them and Jason raised his shot glass to the hesitant man.

“On three,” Jason said. “One, two, three!” He threw his head back and felt the alcohol burn its way down his throat. He set his glass back down on the bar, watching the other man wince his way through the shot. 

He shook his head, setting the shot glass down next to Jason’s. “Disgusting,” he spat. 

Jason laughed. “Yeah, it tends to be. Get a beer instead, kid.”

The man glared at him. “Not a kid,” he grumbled. 

“Well, you never told me your name and you’re like seven years younger than I am. I’m Jason by the way.”

The man’s green eyes bore into Jason’s blue ones for a few more seconds. “Damian. Damian Wayne.”

Jason had to pause a second to think why that name was so familiar. “Ah.” He decided not to say anything. “Happy birthday, Damian.”

“His name was Damen Wake. His father was a rich businessman in the city, and he spent his days at rich people parties. But I could see it in his emerald orbs that he was lonely.”

“So, tell me about yourself, Damian,” Jason said. 

Damian snorted. “I’d rather not. My life is far from interesting. Tell me about you instead? What brings you to this bar tonight?”

Jason shrugged. “I come here every Friday night. After a week of teaching classes and such, I look forward to a drink and a nice of people-watching.”

“You teach,” Damian said. “What do you teach?”

“English,” Jason said simply, not elaborating too much. “And before you ask, yes, I do love it.”

Damian snorted. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“You said it without saying a word,” Jason said. “I know when people are thinking it. Want that beer now?”

Damian nodded and they had the bartender pour him another drink. Jason got himself some chips to much on, not wanting to get wasted.

“Whose your favorite author?” Damian asked. “Wait, let me guess.” There was a dramatic pause. “Charles Dickens. No, no, Hemingway. Austen?”

Jason laughed. “Not quite.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re a fan of the Bard. His sole life goal is to frustrate and confuse me.”

“I love Shakespeare, actually,” Jason laughed. “But no, he’s not my favorite.”

“Tell me who,” Damian said, leaning on the bar and looking at Jason, his green eyes bright and curious.

Jason was surprised to actually find himself liking the young man, despite the fact that he usually went for older guys. 

“Wilde,” he said with a grin. 

“Really!” Damian said, surprise written all over his face. “You don’t seem like a Wilde kind of guy.”

Jason smirked. “You don’t really know me,” he said. “Maybe I can be quite wild. In other places when I’m not at the bar.” Jason wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Damian rolled his eyes and managed to keep from a snort. “You’re like my older brother. He came over to say happy birthday to me today, and after suffering through a day of his puns, I come here and you!”

Jason shrugged unapologetically, giving Damian a grin. 

Damian stared at him, and a second later, waved the bartender over. “Another shot of tequila, please,” he said. He pointed to Jason with a small smirk. “On him.”

Jason laughed and nodded his head. “I thought you weren’t going to do any more shots?”

Damian shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m feeling a bit wild myself tonight.”

Damian’s shot came, and he took it with a little more than a silent grimace. Then, when he opened his eyes again to look at Jason, he could see a hint of boldness in his eyes. 

Damian grinned at him. He turned on his stool so that he was angled at Jason, his knees occasionally knocking against Jason’s legs. The first couple of times, Jason pulled away, but then he stopped, and Damian continued brushing their legs together whenever he moved. 

“So,” Damian said. “Tell me what you do in your free time? I mean, being a teacher, you must have more free time than most.”

“Sometimes,” Jason said. “Not always though. But during the summer months, I like writing. Push out a novel or two.”

“Oh?” Damian asked, eyebrow arching. “Anything I’ve read?”

Jason gave a weak chuckle that was rather nervous. “Nah, I don’t think so. I don’t write to make money. Just for fun, and it’s all self-published, so there’s a very little chance you’ve read it.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” Damian laughed. “I’ve read quite a range of novels. From Wilde, King, Christie to little internet published stories. Give me a title.”

Jason shook his head with an amused smile. “I write under a pseudonym. And for a good reason.”

“Oh.” Damian said, nodding slowly like he understood, but Jason doubted it.

He changed the topic of conversation quickly.

“Midnight approached. As the hours passed, Damen moved closer to me as we talked, and I could feel his jade green gaze burning into me, searing into my own blue intrigue. As the hours passed, I wanted him more than for a night of bar side companionship.”

“Ah,” Damian said, glancing at his expensive watch. “It’s midnight,” he said. “Guess it’s not my birthday anymore.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t keep celebrating,” Jason said. “Up for one last drink?”

“No,” Damian said. “I think I’ll pass. I want to be able to get home on my own legs,” he laughed. He stood up, practically standing in the space between Jason’s thighs. “I should... go,” he said, licking his lips. 

“Okay,” Jason said. “It was nice meeting you, Damian,” he said, not particularly wanting Damian to leave.

Damian kept standing there. Suddenly, he said, “Hey, do you want to get out of here? Together?”

Jason could not stop himself from grinning. “I would love to.”

“We went to his place, which was in a penthouse high above the city. I could see all the glittering lights of the busy city nightlife from the floor-to-ceiling windows in his bedroom. The distant sounds of the city became background news when I fell backwards onto his bed, blouse unbuttoned and hair splayed all over his sheets.”

When Jason woke up the next morning, Damian had already the hotel room, leaving some money for Jason’s cab fare and a long note thanking him for celebrating his birthday with him.

~~~

Four weeks later, Jason was back at the Rose Gold. Summer was ending soon, and he wanted at least one more story written and published before he was too busy to write again.

He ordered himself a glass of wine, already forming the words in his mind. 

“I stared at him from over the rim of my wineglass, unable to break the electric connect between us, our eyes at the center of it all.”

Someone sat down next to Jason, and Jason glanced over, wondering if he luck was so good that his night was possibly going to start so early on. 

When he saw who it was, Jason’s eyes widened. His story suddenly took a sharp turn. 

“I never thought I would see him again. But there he was. Damen Wake, sitting beside me at the same dingy bar we met in. This time, he ordered nothing and turned to me, those eyes sending familiar flurries of arousal through me as I recalled our first meeting.

‘Fancy meeting you here,’ I said softly, giving him a smile.”

“Damian?” Jason asked, blinking. “Um, hi? Can I... help you with something?” he asked, unnerved by Damian’s intense stare, not quite a glare, but close.

Damian stared at him hard, his lips pursed. “Buy me a drink,” he said. 

“Yeah,” Jason said, eyebrows furrowing slowly. “Sure.” He waved the bartender over, not looking away from Damian’s not-glare. “Can you get him whatever he wants on me?”

The bartender waited patiently for Damian to order something. 

Damian continued to stare at Jason. “Margarita,” he said. The bartender nodded and left. Jason just continued to stare at Damian in bemusement. 

“So... how have you been?” Jason asked.

Damian shook his head. “You don’t know why I’m here, do you?”

“Uhhh, if it’s not to get a drink, I really don’t,” Jason said. He swirled his wine in the glass, unsure if he should take a sip or not. “Why are you here?”

The bartender set Damian’s margarita down beside him, but Damian ignored it. “I read your book,” he finally said. 

And Jason’s story came crashing down around him as a cold chill ran through his body. 

“’I don’t- I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I stammered when he confronted me.”

“My what?” Jason asked, giving Damian what he felt was a oblivious smile. 

“Your book,” Damian said through gritted teeth. “About- About the night of my birthday.”

Jason took a deep breath. “Damian, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t write a book about-”

“Bullshit,” Damian hissed. “Everything was exactly as it was that night. Well, mostly the same.”

“A coincidence of some sort?” Jason said weakly, knowing he had been found out. 

Damian rolled his eyes. “Stop it, Jason. I know Jade P. Torrance is you. Everything makes sense. ‘She’ publishes her stories during the summer months. ‘She’ has the same initials as you. ‘She’ has admitted to basing her stories off real experiences.” Damian snorted. “I just did not think it would be literally the same.”

“No one knows it was you, Damian,” Jason said, almost pleading. 

“So you admit it, then.”

Jason nodded slowly. “Yeah, fine,” he said. “I’m Jade, okay?”

Damian stared at him for a few more seconds. Then he smirked. “Erotica? That’s what you write?”

Jason blushed. “Shut up, you brat.”

Damian laughed, taking his margarita, looking at it for a second. “I’ve never even had a margarita before,” he said. He took a sip then nodded. “Not too bad.”

Jason huffed. “So what do you want? It’s already published and printed. I can’t exactly take it back.”

Damian shook his head. “No, that’s not what I’m asking,” Damian said. Now it was his turn to blush. “Um, you know how I said I read a wide variety of genres? It, uh, it just go happens that... um, Torrance might be one of my favorites?”

Jason blinked at him. “You can’t be fucking serious.”

“I... am,” Damian said slowly. “I thought you’d be more happy,” he pointed out. 

Jason pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. “Okay, Torrance writes doesn’t write good stories. She writes in a ‘cheesy, overdone, romance novel’ style. How can that possibly be one of your favorites?”

“Because the stories are from real events,” Damian said. “It’s- It’s kinda hot to hear what someone has been getting up to.” He licked his lips. “Though, I must admit, I did not think Torrance would be a man.”

Jason sipped his wine to avoid Damian’s stare this time. 

Damian leaned in, his leg knocking against Jason’s. “You know, I actually really enjoyed the night of my birthday. And it was really hot to read about it. I... I wouldn’t mind a repeat?”

Jason’s head snapped back to stare at him. “You’re serious?”

Damian nodded, his cheeks tinged red. “You can even write another story.”

Jason licked his lips, which tasted like his sweet wine, now tasting much sweeter than before. “No,” he said slowly. “I’m not opposed to a repeat, but I don’t think I’m going to write a story about it.”

“Why not?” Damian asked. 

“Because if we do this a second time, I’m going to want a third time, then a fourth. I don’t know if my readers will want a story about the same guy over and over again.”

Damian cocked his head to the side. “Why’s that?”

“Erotica is different from other genres. It bores easy,” Jason explained. “That’s why my stories have to be short. It’s hard to have a novel-lengthed story of pure porn. No one will be horny enough to read it all,” he snorted. 

Damian contemplated this. “Well, have you ever thought about stemming into other genres? Action, adventure... romance?”

Jason regarded Damian. “Maybe... why?”

“Because, I think I can make ‘Damen Wake’ more exciting than just ‘strong hips thrusting into your wet heat’,” Damian said with a smirk, crowding closer into Jason’s space. 

Jason pulled a face. “Okay. If- If I agree to this, you have to promise me never to quote my own stories back to me.” He shivered. “That was very uncomfortable to hear.”

Damian laughed softly and leaned in. “I promise,” he said. 

Then, Jason let him kiss him, and maybe, just maybe, Jason took his advice. 

“I never thought I would end up dating rich, handsome, famous Damen Wake. And yet, here I was, standing at his side on the red carpet of a movie premiere, his arm around my waist, and I wondered what would have happened if I had not been at the Gold Rose that night... if I had not been at the Gold Rose the second night. I wonder what would have happened.”

/╲/\╭( ͡° ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ͡°)╮/\╱\

I have no idea what this is, honestly. I just wanted to get something written. Hope you like it?

[ft-dads-au]

Chance Encounter - Chapter 2

chapter moodboard by @oryu404​

Home for the Holidays 2019 Prompt: Dress Up A collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404 AO3 | FF.Net | Prev: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Next: Ch 3

Chapter 2

Rogue stretched out Haku’s blanket on the living room floor and moved him onto it, smiling at the happy coos that immediately gurgled out of his son as he grabbed objects with both fists and began to pull. He continued rummaging through the toy basket until he found the blanket Kuro preferred, stretching it out next to the other one. He moved Kuro on to it and watched for a few minutes to make sure the boys were settled before heading into the kitchen to deal with the dirty dishes and sterilize the bottles for the next feeding.

He settled in for a morning of play and cuddles, switching the music to lullabies about thirty minutes before their naptime. Once he’d changed their diapers, he put them down in their cribs and mentally prepared himself for the standard routine.

He let them cry on their own for a while and then came back for a few comforting words and touches, to pop a pacifier back in or help Kuro retrieve his beloved dragon, and then he left and let them settle again. He had to repeat this ritual a couple of times, but the boys quickly grew tired, and when they finally started to drift off, he waited for a few minutes to make sure they were asleep, and the monitor was on. He backed out quietly and closed the door behind him.

If he were lucky, he’d have about two hours to take a shower, check his email, and maybe get some research done for his book. Rogue hurried into his bedroom, taking off his sleep clothes as he went and throwing them into their overflowing hamper before grabbing the monitor base and walking into their bathroom.

Rogue turned on the water in their shower, waiting for it to warm up as he moved over to the sink, placing the monitor on the counter. He looked in the mirror, frowning at the ever-present bags under his eyes before brushing his teeth.

Getting into the shower and closing his eyes, he enjoyed the feel of the hot water on his skin for a few blessed minutes before reaching out for the shampoo bottle and lathering his hair. Right as he began to rinse, he heard a dreaded ringtone.

Cool, Cool, Cool… Cool, Cool, Cool…

Damn it, of course his editor would call while he was in the shower! It stopped ringing while he was debating whether to get out or not. Whatever, he’d call him back later.

Rogue put conditioner in his hair and grabbed the body wash and bath sponge from the shower caddy, every moment spent under the hot water loosening muscles he hadn’t even realized were tense. A simple shower was something he used to take for granted before they had the twins. Now it was one of his favorite parts of the day, some quality alone time that was scarce between all his responsibilities. The soothing hot water, the calming scent of the body wash Sting had bought him as a gift, and the peace and quiet of nothing but the sound of running water…

Cool, Cool, Cool… Cool, Cool, Cool…

For fuck’s sake, ten minutes. That’s all he asked for! He heard some static from the monitor and sighed, fuck my life.

Rinsing himself off quickly, he grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist as he hurried towards the nightstand where he’d placed his phone on the charger the previous night.

“What?!” Rogue grumbled, the sound of Jason chuckling irritating him more than the water that was dripping on the carpet.

“Shower?”

“If you know I’m taking a shower, why the fuck do you call me at this time?”

“Cause you’re fun to rile up. Anyways, I’ve got a coool job for you, right up your alley.”

Rogue found himself becoming curious, the subjects of the last few articles he’d gotten to work on had been far from anything that matched his interests. With his precious moment of relaxation already disrupted, he settled in to learn about the details.

“Alright, let’s hear it then,” he sighed as he put on a bathrobe and yanked the towel off his waist to dry off his hair with one hand.

Rogue could hear the rustling of papers as Jason tried to find something on his cluttered desk. “A club for dads just started up at the community center a few weeks ago. Our readers eat up that special interest crap.”

Rogue could only groan at the words, “Let me guess, I’m the only one you could sucker into this? Pass. I don’t want to go hang out with a bunch of middle-aged men who sit around drinking and competing about who’s kid is better.”

“Who said anything about that? From the little I got from talking to the guy running it, who you will be interviewing in about three hours by the way, this is the real deal. Dads supporting dads. Sounds like something you could get into,” Jason said with his usual enthusiasm before adding almost sheepishly, “Besides, you’re the only dad we have on staff.”

“Three hours? What am I supposed to do with the twins? I’ve told you before, you can’t schedule stuff for me like that.”

“Take them along, the guy probably won’t mind. He’s a dad too, isn’t he?”

“Unbelievable,” Rogue was not at all happy with how this conversation was turning out, their entire day was going to be disrupted. “Are you sure there aren’t any other assignments I could do instead?” He asked hopefully, dreading the idea of having to get all the gear ready, not to mention dragging his children to an interview.

“Nope, this is all we’ve got available for this week, I’ll send you all the details in an email. You’re the best!” Jason hung up before Rogue could get a word out, which was probably for the best.

Rogue looked at his watch with a frown, scratching his head as he tried to figure out how he was going to make everything work. He went into the bathroom to put away his wet towel and decided not to get dressed until right before they were ready to go knowing he’d probably end up covered in spit-up before long. He grabbed the monitor on his way out, peering into the screen to make sure both kids were still down before walking across the living room and into the spare bedroom he used as an office to grab his laptop.

Moving back into the living room and sitting on the sofa, he scanned through his emails until he found the one he wanted. The interview was with a Macao Conbolt, and it was taking place at the Community Center, which was about a fifteen-minute walk from the house. Rogue had to admit it could be worse, at least it wasn’t raining.

He opened up a browser window and entered Magnolia Dad’s Club, but all the results were from about ten years earlier or older. Next, he searched for Macao Conbolt. It looked like he was a chemistry teacher at the local high school.

With nothing to really go on, Rogue tried to come up with some questions.

~~~

It was just past 10am, meaning that nap time should be over any time now. On days like today, when Haku and Kuro had woken up a lot earlier than they were supposed to, Rogue just let them sleep until they woke up on their own, but thanks to Jason and his terrible last minute planning, he didn’t have that luxury right now. There were bottles to be fed, diapers to be changed, and all three of them still had to get dressed, and he only had about an hour and a half to get it all done.

“One day, when that bastard has kids of his own, I’ll pay him back for this in tenfold,” Rogue muttered to himself while getting up and preparing the formula, “assuming someone would ever be willing to put up with him enough to have his children.”

When he had both bottles at the ready, he headed to the nursery, where the boys were still sleeping peacefully. His chagrin faded away at the sight, they couldn’t get any cuter than when they were asleep. He hated having to rouse them awake, even though they never showed him any mercy, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it now. He just hoped they’d take it well enough and wouldn’t be fussy for the rest of the day.

“Wake up sunshine,” he spoke softly, running a hand through Kuro’s soft black hair. The boy didn’t make a sound, didn’t move a muscle aside from breathing steadily, and Rogue felt a stab through his chest at the thought that he had to try harder with his waking up efforts. He tapped Kuro’s shoulder gently, but all he got was a frown and a sleepy moan, so he decided to just pick him up and move to his next victim.

Haku wasn’t doing any better, he needed a lot of persuasion to wake up as well, but the displeased cries of his brother caused him to at least open his eyes and sit up before Rogue pulled him into his other arm and took them both to the living room. They were both crying loudly, so Rogue didn’t even try to put them in the highchairs this time.

“Yes, I know, I’m tired too,” he whined along with them. He sat down on the couch, laying them down on pillows next to his legs so he could hold both bottles and feed the twins at the same time. He double checked the temperature of the formula and gave one of the bottles to Haku, who pushed it away and rubbed at his eyes. Meanwhile, Kuro’s cries were reduced to soft sobs and hiccups. He curled himself up against Rogue’s side and tried to go back to sleep.

“Alexa, turn on Fire TV,” Rogue ordered, and as soon as the TV came to life, followed it up with, “Alexa, go to Baby TV channel,” cringing just as before as colorful cartoons he’d already seen too many times came on. At least it had the desired effect, both boys moving their heads towards the TV, mesmerized enough that he could nudge the nipples of the bottles between their lips, and much to his relief, they started drinking.

Not getting dressed yet turned out to be a smart decision. After the feeding and burping, his bathrobe had several stains of drool and milk, either fresh or regurgitated, that would have otherwise ended up on his clothes. Bringing his kids to an interview was bad enough already without showing up looking like a walking burp rag.

After another diaper change, Rogue strapped the twins into bouncers that he set in front of the TV, rushing to the kitchen to put the empty bottles in the sink. Even though he knew he was going to regret not cleaning them right away, he simply didn’t have the time to do it now.

Fuck! He only had twenty minutes left. Running to the bedroom closet, he put on some clean underwear and socks, dropping the dirty robe on the floor where he stood. Without even bothering to check if it was his or Sting’s, Rogue pulled out the first pair of black jeans he found along with a button-up shirt, taking it with him as he raided the twins’ closet for four sets of clothes. He’d made the mistake of leaving the house without a change of clothes for the boys once, and he would never make it again.

He ran- or more like slipped, with his socks on the laminate flooring- back through the dining and living rooms, dropping the pile of clothes on the armchair, before going to get the stroller out of the hallway closet.

A few simple motions unfolded it and locked it into place so he could roll it out into the living room to put the babies in as soon as they were dressed. What he feared would happen, the reason why he still hadn’t put on his own clothes yet, happened the moment he lifted Haku out of the bouncer. A burp loud enough to rival that of a grown man came out, cut off halfway by an estimated half a bottle’s worth of milk that flew onto the rug.

“... Alexa, add sanity to my shopping list, please?”

I’ve put sanity on your shopping list.

Haku sighed happily, and Rogue gave him a half-hearted smile as he tried to remove most of the stain with a baby wipe.

“Yeah, I’m sure that must be a huge relief for you,” Rogue remarked while patting his back in case there was still more to come.

Rogue grabbed some of the clothes and moved to the couch to get Haku dressed up, keeping an eye on Kuro in case he would start spitting up as well. He seemed fine, still watching cartoons with his dragon in a tight chokehold, frowning and grunting as his face was beginning to turn red. Rogue knew that face, and those sounds all too well.

Crap, he was going to be late.

He dressed and changed the babies as fast as he could and put them in the dual seat stroller with the straps secured. Some toys were attached to the stroller with a chain of plastic loops so they wouldn’t get lost, and that kept them busy for a while so Rogue could finally get himself dressed. He stuffed the extra baby clothes into the diaper bag along with some other supplies, packing a bag of his own with a recorder, a notebook, and a pencil case filled with pens, his phone, and his wallet, and put both bags in the stroller’s baskets.

The clock on the wall told him he should have left about five minutes ago, but he still had to put on his shoes and make his hair look somewhat presentable. A quick comb through was all he gave it before tying it up into a ponytail- a messy one, he had to admit, but he didn’t have the time nor the inclination to make it look any better. When he finally locked the door behind him, he was more than ten minutes late and tried not to think about the trail of mess he left throughout the house.

He arrived at the community center a good thirty minutes late, cursing Jason’s name in his head as he sang the theme song to some kid’s show he barely remembered to keep the boys from crying. A man was standing outside the building, and he began walking towards him with a friendly smile.

“Hi there, you Rogue Eucliffe?”

“Yes, you must be Macao Conbolt?” Rogue pushed down on the brake on the baby stroller and extended his arm for a handshake, “I’m so sorry I’m late, we had a bit of an accident on our way out.”

“It’s fine, I have a free period after lunch on Mondays, so no harm done. To tell the truth, I was a little surprised your magazine was interested in doing an article on us.”

“My editor was very excited by the concept.”

“Is that the cool cool cool guy?” Macao chuckled, and Rogue found himself liking the man right away. He looked to be in his forties, although he was still in decent shape, with short dark hair that was beginning to show signs of graying. His eyes, however, were his most noticeable trait, they were warm and welcoming.

“Yes, that would be him.”

“Twins, huh?” Macao looked into the stroller, smiling at Haku and Kuro, who were watching Macao uncertainly, “God, it’s hard to believe my kid was ever this small.”

“How old?” Rogue asked politely.

Macao’s smile grew even wider as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket, opening it up to show a picture of a handsome teen with eyes similar to his father. “Romeo is fifteen now. Time flies.”

“I like having a physical picture,” he explained once he’d put his wallet away, “Shall we go inside?”

When Rogue nodded, removing the brake from the stroller, Macao sped ahead, holding the doors open so Rogue could push the stroller into the building.

“Get stuck watching them today?” Macao asked, looking mildly amused at Rogue’s struggle with the large stroller.

“No, actually, I work from home, so I’m their prime caretaker.”

“Oh, wow! I bet your wife must love that!”

“Uhm, husband actually,” Rogue replied, trying to swallow the discomfort he always felt at this moment. He wasn’t ashamed of his lifestyle, never had been, he just hated the way people usually responded.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed like that,” Macao was quick to apologize, and Rogue was happily surprised to see his demeanor had not changed at all, “He must love it then.”

“He does, a little too much actually,” Rogue agreed with a smile.

“So, uhm, how do you want to do this? The last time I was interviewed was for my job, and it was a lifetime ago…”

“Usually I have a list of questions prepared, but I’m going to be honest here, I was just told I was going to meet with you a few hours ago, and these hellions didn’t make it easy to get ready, so I guess we’ll both just have to sort of wing it. Why don’t you tell me a little bit about the club.”

Rogue rummaged through his work bag, looking for the voice recorder he’d placed inside before he’d left the house. Once he found it, he checked the SD card slot to make sure there was a card inserted and turned it on.

“Hmm, okay. Well let’s see, we meet here every Tuesday evening. The daycare center lets us use their space so that fathers can bring their children with them if they want to. We have some high schoolers available to watch the kids during the meetings, all certified in babysitting.”

Rogue was listening to Macao’s words trying to think of some follow-up questions when it began. At first, it was just a whine which he was able to quiet with a quick toy grab from the baby bag. Macao had stopped talking, politely waiting for Rogue to finish tending to the kids, and Rogue was thankful that the man was so laid back. Once he was satisfied the kids were settled, he turned back to the subject of his interview.

“That actually sounds really good, I know I’d be more likely to attend if there was childcare available, “Rogue prompted, wanting Macao to continue talking.

“Yeah, it works out well, the students get community service hours, and the daycare center is set up to handle kids of all ages, so it’s great. The fathers seem to feel more comfortable as well since they can see their children and be readily available if something comes up. I’d show you the space, but it’s off-limits during business hours,” Macao looked down at the twins in the stroller, “I’m sure you understand.”

“Yes, of course,” Rogue was about to say something when he noticed Haku’s face turning the same angry red as his brother’s had done earlier, and he frowned, hoping it was a false alarm but knowing it wasn’t. The horrid smell confirmed his fears, and when Haku began to cry in discomfort, Rogue sighed, already knowing what was coming next.

“I don’t suppose there’s a changing area somewhere in this building?” Rogue asked, dreading the idea of having to change a diaper of that magnitude in the stroller.

He peered at Macao hopefully, trying to ignore the fact that the man looked like he was about to burst into a fit of laughter at any moment.

“All the men’s rooms in the building have one,” Macao walked them towards the nearest one and once again opened the door for Rogue. It was impossibly narrow though, there was no way the stroller was going to fit.

Rogue looked from the stroller to the door, not sure of what to do as Haku’s screams were beginning to draw attention, and Kuro seemed to be about two seconds from joining in.

“I can take the other one in if you’re okay with it, it’s been a while, but I’m pretty sure I remember the basics,” Macao grinned, cooing at Kuro who stared back at him with a curious expression.

Rogue debated back and forth, he wasn’t really comfortable with strangers touching his children, but Haku’s wails decided him. “Thank you, can you just bring him in here?”

“Sure,” Macao unstrapped Kuro from the stroller picking him up effortlessly and holding him up to his face so the baby could look at him easier before holding him in a more comfortable position and following Rogue into the bathroom.

“I never really thought about how much more difficult having twins was,” Macao admitted, watching as Rogue tried to change Haku’s diaper while also giving Kuro some attention to make sure he remained calm in Macao’s arms.

“I’d never taken care of a baby before these two, so yeah, it was a rude awakening.”

“Well, you seem to be doing a great job!” Macao praised him, and Rogue couldn’t help the sadness the compliment gave him. He often wondered what his dad would think of him as a father, but his parents hadn’t even met the twins yet.

“Thanks,” Rogue finished changing the almost unbelievably messy diaper, and they all left the bathroom, but when he tried to put the twins back in the stroller, neither one of them was having it, each screaming so loudly that everyone who walked past them turned to stare. Adding to his dismay, he could see Macao looking at his watch and remembered the man needed to return to his job soon.

Crap! Just as he’d expected, this whole experience had been a disaster. Stupid Jason.

“I’m really sorry, but I need to get going, I have a class I need to teach in about twenty-five minutes,” Macao declared, trying to make himself heard over the twins, “Maybe you could come to the meeting tomorrow? Gildarts, the other man who is doing this with me, will be there too. We can answer all your questions then.”

“You don’t happen to mean Gildarts Clive, do you?” Rogue asked, hoping there was another man with that name in Magnolia.

“Yeah, you know him?” When Rogue didn’t respond right away, Macao tried to help him put the wiggling kids back into the stroller.

They made their way back outside, Macao once again holding the door open for them, “I’m really sorry about this.”

“No need to apologize, thank you for your time,” Rogue shook Macao’s hand briefly and watched as the teacher walked back towards the high school.

Macao turned briefly, yelling out as he waved, “The meetings start around six, bring your husband too!”

Rogue waved back and turned back towards home, hoping the terrors would calm down once they started moving. His mind already going to the name Macao had said.

Gildarts Clive, just my fucking luck.

They passed the hospital on their way home, and Rogue was tempted to go inside, even if it was just so Sting could see the twins for a minute. And...well, after all the stress today had already brought him, a hug and a sympathetic ear would be really nice right now.

If he didn’t know for a fact that the coffee they served at the hospital had about the same flavor as you’d expect from a puddle of mud, he would have gotten a cup. But Sting was most likely busy at the moment, and the twins were still crying loudly in protest at being restrained in the stroller. The best thing to do right now was to just go home.

He stopped for just a minute, gazing at the hospital entrance with longing before shaking his head and sending a text instead.

‘Is there any kind of poison that can’t be traced during an autopsy? Asking for a friend, who happens to want my boss dead as well. Love you.’

Except he didn’t send it, deleting the words one by one, he replaced them with something that was less disconcerting.

‘Hope you’re having a good day, tonight can’t come soon enough for me.’

Rogue sent the message and was about to put his phone away again and continue on his way home when he got an idea that improved his mood a little. His fingers raced across the touchscreen keyboard and added another message as fast as he could, aware of the twins’ growing impatience.

‘Also, takeout= fewer dishes= more time for other things. But that’s just a suggestion.’

Satisfied with the thought that out of all the chores waiting for him back at home, cooking wasn't going to be one of them, he put his phone away and continued to push the stroller home. Finding both children asleep by the time he got there, he maneuvered the stroller into a shady spot of their backyard and sat on their bench swing to read a book from his phone.

~~~

Rogue sat at their dining room table, looking at his voice recorder in dismay. Somehow he’d managed to not record a single word Macao had said, leaving him with absolutely zero to work with for his feature article. Not that there had been much to begin with. That meant he’d have that many more interactions with Gildarts, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He was so focused on his thoughts that he never even heard Sting arrive, only felt his hands begin to knead his shoulders.

“What happened today?” Sting asked, “I haven’t seen you look this tense in ages.”

“Mhmm,” Rogue moaned appreciatively, enjoying the feel of Sting’s fingers on his aching shoulder blades, “Just a rough day, had to take the kids on a job.”

“Jason?”

Rogue nodded his head in agreement, not wanting Sting to stop what he was doing.

“You know I can tell you about a few poisons no one will ever detect,” Rogue could almost hear Sting’s grin, and for a second, he worried he might have somehow sent the text earlier and then chuckled. Nope, Sting just knew him that well.

“If only.”

“Well, there’s no Jason here, just me and some takeout.”

The kneading stopped, and Rogue whined in disappointment. He didn’t get much time to sulk, though, as two boxes of delicious smelling pizza and a bottle of wine were dropped on the table in front of him.

“They were all out of sanity. Will this do?”

It took a moment before Rogue remembered what he had said to Alexa that morning, in a fit of exasperation. Looking at Sting, who had already dived into one of the kitchen cabinets to get the glasses, Rogue suddenly had a hard time remembering what had made his day so rough in the first place.

“You’re perfect,” he smiled, “though the pizza and the wine are a great help as well.”

Sting returned from the kitchen bearing wine glasses, an opener, and some plastic plates. He set everything down on the table, and while he opened the bottle and poured the wine, Rogue went ahead and dished out some slices, trading Sting a glass for a plate.

Sting began eating right away, making Rogue wonder if he’d skipped lunch again. Mouth full of food, he asked, “So what happened anyway?”

“Jason sent me to the community center on an assignment, with no warning or time to prepare. It was… stressful, and I wasn’t even able to finish the interview.” Rogue complained, “Now, I have to attend a meeting tomorrow night.”

“Huh, what kind of meeting?”

“It’s a club for dads, I don’t really know much about it yet. I was supposed to get all the info I needed from that interview, but I was embarrassingly late, and then I had to spend half of what little time I had trying to minimize the ear-splitting sounds our kids produced. And to cap it all, Haku chose that moment to have a diaper explosion.”

Sting almost choked on a bite of pizza, and if Rogue didn’t know any better, he’d think the coughing fit that followed was a result of discussing dirty diapers at the dinner table. The truth was, Sting just used it to cover up the fact that he was desperately trying not to laugh. He could hide his mouth behind his hand all he wanted, but his eyes betrayed him as per usual.

“It wasn’t funny!” Rogue tried to resist, keeping his jaw locked to prevent the corners of his mouth from curling up.

Wordlessly they found themselves in a competition of intense staredowns and making weird faces, and whatever it took to not be the first to burst out in laughter. Rogue came close to losing just from watching Sting try way too hard and forgetting to breathe. As a last resort, he crossed his eyes, delivering the final blow. Nevertheless, he didn’t have the resilience to control himself once Sting started laughing.

They laughed and talked about their days, and all the annoyances just melted away as they fed each other pizza and drank their wine, finishing the bottle much more quickly than they probably should have. Sting took care of all the cleanup, and soon they were both lying on the sofa, some random movie playing on Netflix that was given no more than ten minutes of attention. One look was enough for patience to be lost and cuddling to turn into heated kissing as clothes were thrown to the floor one by one.

Sting had already ditched his shirt, and Rogue was eager to get rid of his own as well, briefly interrupting their making out to make quick work of undoing the buttons and pulling his arms out of the sleeves. He blindly tossed it aside and went to descend upon Sting again but stopped when the latter lifted his head and observed him with a look of surprise.

“You’re wearing my pants,” Sting remarked.

Rogue looked down and saw that indeed, he was. It was at the bottom of his list of concerns at the moment. He felt heady with want, even more than he remembered feeling in a long time, and he blamed it on the decline in intimate moments between them. And he couldn’t deny the effect that half a bottle of wine had on him either.

“Problem?” he asked, though it was obvious from the way Sting was running his hands up and down his legs in adoration that it wasn’t.

“Huge problem. You look better in them than I do so I’m afraid they’re gonna have to come off,” and as his hands traveled up to fiddle with the button, he smirked and added, “but I like the idea that you’ve been dying to get into my pants since this morning.”

“I wasn’t.” Rogue reached for the remote to turn off the TV, not wanting Alexa to be a part of this conversation.

He couldn’t take the pants off in the position he was in, so while getting up, he used the interruption to pull Sting off the sofa with him and lead the way to the bedroom.

“But I am now,” he admitted, “so less you being a smartass, more us making good use of the time we have left before the monsters wake up again.”

And that they did, starting even before the bedroom door closed behind them.

@ftmlmages​

[gooddadstan]

Fuzzy Walls and Tired Eyes

I wrote something, and people didn't hate it so what a way to start off than crossposting to tumblr?

Everything was going to be okay. He’d made a will, sent the company back to Bruce, tried to make sure they’d be able to understand his case notes, and did his damndest to let them know that it wasn’t any of their faults and he loved them. He was the only one to not die yet, after all, and statistics just spoke the cold truth. He was going to be next, and he’d prepared for it. So yeah, Tim was pretty sure that everything was going to be just fine. Maybe he hadn’t anticipated it happening like this, but c’est la vie, sometimes you’ve just gotta take what life chucks at you and run with it.

With that preparedness and peace of mind, the actions he’s taking feels like nothing more than an aimless ritual than a fight for life. Turn on the emergency tracker, take the bandages from his belt and start trying to patch up what he can, activate the comm and ask for backup. None of them would make it in time, anyway. He’d been watching as they fanned out, just blips on his GPS screen as they forge on with the search for the Joker that Red Robin had abandoned for taking care of the drug case he’d hyperfocused on over the last couple of days. Every one of the bats was too far away, and even the newbie Signal was out and about in the darkness.

But maybe if he’d left the drug case for another week or two just to catch the Joker and come back, he wouldn’t be bleeding out in an empty warehouse on the pier. Maybe if he’d only thought to bring his phone with him he’d be able to call Bart or Kon and the voice he couldn’t raise above a whisper would be enough to bring him back to the cave. Maybe if he’d asked Babs to stay by the computer that night instead of letting her rest while nursing her case of the flu, citing worry over the Joker search instead of his own agenda. He’s sure she’d know what he’d been up to anyway. Maybe if he’d let Alfred stay in the usual schedule instead of being a part of the mob convincing the clearly overworked man to take a vacation, he’d be able to call for the caring butler and the familiar sight of the Batmobile rolling to a stop outside wouldn’t only be a projection on behalf of his exhausted mind, and the almost laughable visage of the cowl still leaving a mustache visible above the suit so finely pressed and painfully out of the ordinary in the dirty streets would be by his side muttering assurances instead of staring ominously in typical hallucination-showing-your-worst-fears fashion. Maybe if they’d actually gone through with calling Alfred back after the Joker broke out of Arkham instead of forcing him to keep relaxing wherever in Europe he was at the time without knowledge of the situation, he would’ve been sitting with a cup of coffee next to Alfred’s tea, having been convinced by a short mention of being lonely left at the computer watching the comms alone.

Maybe there had been so many ways to avoid this, and not have to subject the others to his rambling notes and ill-articulated theories as they take over his cases, but he’d been too incompetent to see them. Maybe he should at least try to get back to the cave and into the medbay, not make them go through the effort to retrieve his body to keep some random thug from unmasking him and placing suspicion on his family. Maybe he should’ve been more careful, gotten rid of his blood on the scene, confiscated the knives and guns fired and stabbed at him, not have been so sloppy in his form with the takedown.

It’s a bit too late for that now, though.

The drugs were blown up, the police were likely on-scene arresting the goons by now, and the gangs that instigated the bust in the first place were too small to not be terribly crippled by the loss. Their promise in rising through the ranks was at least put off long enough for the Bats to attend to the more ‘super’ of their enemies in Gotham for a while. His family would take over his remaining cases, likely finishing them faster than Tim himself would’ve been able to. He had enough reason to be okay with this situation in the end. His own fuck-ups aside, he’d gotten done what he needed to. He swore, by this logic, that his family would be just as well if not better off because of the way the bust ended up.

So who’s going to care if what bandages he does apply are a bit too haphazard to be effective, if he doesn’t repeat his request for backup with his current location after what he’s pretty sure is five minutes passes and protocol says he should. Who’s going to care if in the end he’s not really helping himself. If any of them cared any more than for the necessary hassle of moving and burying his body, creating a false death for his public persona, and going through the motions of mourning the acting CEO of W.E., Timothy Drake-Wayne, for the sake of the rest of their secret identities, maybe they would blame his current carelessness on the blood loss. Maybe they would blame it on what’s probably a major concussion visible from the sheet of pain going from his left temple to his chin. They could even blame it on Tim himself, no injury to buffer it. He could deal with that. After his vision goes black in just a few more minutes, he shouldn’t be able to think and feel things about it anyway. That’s how Jason described it, anyway. Painless and empty and without your own mind really there to interfere.

Though, at this point Tim’s entire body was pained, from the dull aches of sore muscles to the sharp piercing hurt of his assorted knife and gunshot wounds. As much as he trusted his brother, he wasn’t sure if it was even possible for all of that pain could just cease to exist. He wasn’t sure if the brain could even comprehend what was beyond, if anything really was, or if that comforting nothing Jason had almost seemed wistful for was just the way the human brain tried to fill the gap in comprehensibility that was created after that bomb went off. When had he asked that, anyway? It must’ve been over… oh. A week ago, at most. Not the most convenient time to be dying, he supposed. Too coincidental. It’s not like he’d meant to go out and get killed.

Which was true, wasn’t it? He’d thought he could handle it, and just didn’t want to distract any of the others from the Joker, right? There was no way that he’d done this on purpose, much less subconsciously. Except, he’d known how many people were going to be at the trade tonight. He’d known that there would be less people at smaller ones later on, far less armed and more calculated aggression levels. Less dangerous. He’d known that he’d likely suffer at least some of what Alfred called ‘excessive injury’, but he was okay with that. He’d planned to get out of the situation with maybe a gunshot wound or two at most. Nothing too fatal, he’d had worse and lived through it. There was no way that this was intentional. But he could have asked someone else for help, couldn’t he. He wouldn’t have been able to take Bruce or Jason away from the Joker, of course, maybe not even Damian from the way he growled and made threats as the group left, but asking Duke or Steph to watch his back would probably be feasible with minimal effect on the effectiveness of tonight's search.

So why’d he go out alone again?

Right, yeah, taking out the Joker took priority. The effectiveness of their search would still drop without another person, and whereas his involvement would likely not help at all, the others were imperative for this plan to work. All useful hands on deck, and he could take this alone. He was sure of it. Well, he was sure of it before. He should’ve at least made it back to the cave, no matter how injured he was. He was just being dramatic, his bike’s only a couple blocks away and here he is still only lying here while he’s got two working- two vaguely working- one vaguely working leg. That should be enough to get him to the medbay, right?

The others would only be disappointed in his performance right now, no doubt they’d all have been back in the cave if they’d taken the case, taking a nap after pressing enter on the completed report. Even if they’d gotten the same injuries, which they never would, they’d take care of them more efficiently and wouldn’t even have to take those antibiotics somebody managed to shove down his throat every time he was injured while going on about his lack of a spleen. No wonder he was laying here so pathetically as his comms buzzed in his ear. Wait, his comm is buzzing in his ear. Somebody’s trying to contact him. That’s not right. Did they catch the Joker already? It’d only been maybe a day and a half since the escape, nothing ever happens this quickly. Unless one of the others got hurt in a trap the Joker had placed? God, he knew he should’ve been out there instead, the others shouldn’t have to intercept the Joker’s traps.

Fumbling with the comm in his ear, the familiar click of getting into the channel rings small, smaller than it ever should be, bringing yet another injury to Tim’s attention as the scowl that had formed subconsciously grew deeper.

“-mmy! Timmy you’ve got to answer me, can you hear me?” The surprise that sinks through Tim’s chest isn’t enough to get his drooping eyelids to rise even a centimeter as he hears Di-Nightwing’s, no names in the field, voice echo through his head sharply even with the low volume.

“Nightwing?” It comes out as even less than a whisper, pleading and croaking and so undeniably pained that it sends an overwhelming wave of shame through his soul that hadn’t been there before.

Nightwing, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice the tone. At least, he didn’t let the likely increased levels of worry about Tim’s wellbeing bleed into his reaction in the slightest if he did, the steady voice still the same hardly panicked steadfast rumble it is in most situations. Tim can’t help but resent that Nightwing had to have perfected maintaining that controlled expression. “Yeah, yeah it’s me, Nightwing. Timmy, Black Bat and I are coming to pick you up and bring you back to the cave. Is your tracker still on you? How badly are you injured?”

They shouldn’t be here, they should keep looking for the Joker, not bothering themselves with coming back here, go save more lives! Come on, you stupid mouth, object to this, do something! His grumble of frustration doesn’t even make it past his lungs, a noise so pitiful it could barely even be considered a cough bursting from his lips instead as his entire body still managed to shake and scream against the movement. There’s no time to focus on the pain, just report and convince the others that he can get back to the cave himself and they don’t need to leave their mission. Make them believe that he’d hit his emergency tracker on accident, and had been doing recon in this warehouse without realizing it was even on.

As Tim tried to angle his head so he could assess his injuries in a way that would be remotely coherent as well as significantly more non-lethal than they actually are, didn’t he do that before he got here, the swaying support beam in his line of sight caught his attention. Heh, it looks like that one thing on the internet where- no, wait, that’s not something support beams are supposed to do. That’s fairly concerning, seeing as the entire warehouse is in danger of falling on top of him should his eyes not be betraying him. Trying to form at least another word, at least mentioning the concussion so they wouldn’t have to guess on it, maybe even the fact that the building might fall and he’d be on his way out, his tongue stopped feeling like a piece of his body, and more like some weird… meat sausage warm hurty thing. Yeah, that’s what it is. And hold on, no, that’s a muscle that definitely belongs to him and is a part of his body, not some random lump of meat in his mouth. He knew that, he’s always known that. What’s even going on with his brain? Wasn’t he doing something? Why’s he on the ground?

Pushing himself back into a sitting position, he chokes out a groan and lets everything slow the unceasing screech against his entire existence before opening his eyes again.

Hm. That’s mildly concerning.

Now, Tim’s fairly certain that he’s not any kind of expert on warehouse construction, as he usually focuses on infiltration rather than means of building, but giant splotchy pools of red along the walls and floor don’t exactly scream up to code. Looks almost like blood. That isn’t his, right? Was he bleeding? Oh, wait, yeah he is, he very much is. That would probably go along with the absolute agony spreading through every ounce of his being like a nuclear bomb going off on repeat every two seconds. Didn’t he know that? There’s some kind of wacky buzzing in his ear, like a fly managed to get right into his ear canal, and one arm flings up to swat it away for some black cold thing to intercept his hand as it goes backwards into what might as well be an abyss for how much Tim’s spatial awareness is doing its job. Hey, the buzzing’s gone, but now his arm feels like it’s got at least seven nukes going off in it, which seems like it should be a concerning number of nukes.

And oop, walls probably shouldn’t go wildly in and out of that fuzziness, but who’s to say? Technology’s gotten pretty wild since aliens revealed themselves to be a thing, and maybe somebody decided they wanted walls that could morph into fuzzies at any point in time. That’d be kinda cool to have in a house. Wait this isn’t a house, right? He doesn’t think it’s his apartment, he wouldn’t have had the time to install fuzzy walls, and this floor is too hurty to be his own. He would know, he spends a lot of time lying down on it. Why isn’t he home right now? A nap sounds like a good plan right now, but he’s in somebody else’s house. Should he be bleeding on somebody else’s floor? That doesn’t sound good. But something that does sound good? Just closing his eyes and ignoring the alarm in the back of his head screaming at him to get up and do something, whatever that something is, just a little bit quieter than the pain crashing through his body, holding him in a vice of suffering. Yeah, he thinks, I’m gonna… I’m gonna do that.

And around Tim, as his head hits the metal of the warehouse underneath him with a resounding thunk, the world fades to black.

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

Fic: skin

this is... a dark one, folks.

Summary: Set after 1.06: Jason Todd. The implications of the last twenty four hours finally come crashing down on Dick. He deals with it poorly.

Warnings: SPOILERS till 1.06. Self-harm, trauma, some body horror. Brief descriptions of consensual sexual encounters; nothing explicit. Dick’s not in a great headspace.

skin

Dick’s pretty sure he’s dying. His body hurts in too many ways to name, he shudders and strains at the apex of every breath, and—

he can’t—

he can’t move his legs—

“Ssh, Master Richard. Just a pinch, and then you won’t feel a thing.”

He blinks rapidly and tries to focus on the blurry figure that’s materialised next to him. But that only releases more tears, and he is ashamed and angry at the same time, because while Dick might only be a child, Robin can never be seen crying. “A-Alfred,” he chokes. “What’s wrong with me?” He coughs painfully; something tears at the back of his throat and he tastes metal.

Alfred says something that’s lost in the roaring in his ears, but he sounds profoundly, indefinably sad. Dick’s breath stops stuttering and seizes altogether, freezing in his chest like a block of ice. Nothing seems to exist outside of this moment—there is no future beyond this pain. There is no future at all, because what is he if he can’t run, and jump, and leap, and fight? If he can’t be Robin? Every minute worth remembering in his life since he was six years old has begun with him coiled like a spring, ready to burst into flight into the night air, but this moment? He’s splayed like roadkill, limp and broken, and it. won’t. stop—

There’s a sharp needle-point of pain at his bicep, startling him out of his own panicking mind, and seconds later, he tumbles into darkness.

-

It takes a little over two hours for Dick to drive from Clay’s house to the Chicago safehouse. Once he’s there, Gar figures out how to get him inside and upstairs. Dick can tell he’s itching to ask about Jason, but something in his eyes must’ve warned him otherwise, because he can barely meet Dick’s gaze in the elevator.

Kory’s lounging near the television; when she sees him, her eyes narrow, and she straightens. However, it’s Rachel that speaks first. “Dick,” she says, “you’re hurt!”

For a long moment, Dick can’t figure out what she’s talking about. It’s been a monumentally shitty day, but he’s pretty sure he came out of it unscathed. Physically, at least. He follows her gaze to where it’s transfixed on his arm, and spots the blood-spotted bandage wrapped around his forearm. Oh.

Oh. The tracker.

He hadn’t bothered stitching it up that morning; he hadn’t the time. He can imagine it now, gaping and leaking blood, fat and hard muscle peeking through. If he doesn’t close it now, it’s going to leave an ugly fucking scar; nothing like the perfect, unblemished skin the tracker left behind while going in. Wayne Tech had been working on subdermal implants to deliver medicine for chronic illnesses a while back; it would’ve been so easy for Bruce to appropriate their designs for port of entry to get the tracker in without Dick noticing a thing—

“Dick? Dick!”

He blinks. Kory’s shaking his shoulder, trying to get his attention. When did she get here?

“You’re cold,” she tells him, shifting her grip to his hands. They’re shaking, he notices. That’s weird. “Go take a shower and change. I’ll heat up some more of the frozen pasta from the pantry.” She tilts her head, and for a second she looks almost other-worldly, like a creature sizing up its prey. “Pasta’s okay, right?”

He stares at her, and Kory sighs.

“Is he okay?” Rachel asks, her voice trembling on the last word. Just a little.

“I’m fine,” Dick says, the words scraping through his throat like he’s not talked in a long while (like he’s been screaming). “I’m just, uh, going to take care of this and clean up.” He waves his left arm at them. It’s throbbing, but distantly, like it doesn’t really belong to him anymore (it doesn’t belong to him at all). “And pasta’s fine.”

He can feel Kory’s gaze on the back of his neck all the way to the bathroom.

-

“You’re beautiful,” Dawn tells him. Her hands and lips are everywhere, fingernails catching on his scars, her tongue soothing them in their wake. She climbs back up and kisses him fiercely, hair tumbling over his face. She smells of strawberry-scented shampoo and beneath that, the faint whiff of antiseptic. He grins, cards his hands through her hair, and flips them both—

--and Kory bites down on his nipple while reaching for his groin, and he arches above her with a choked-off groan. “Beautiful,” she whispers into his chest, guiding him inside her, and he’s so close, so embarrassingly close—

--when it’s over, he collapses, relishing the slide of sweat-slicked skin against his, close, intimate, content to just be. “So beautiful,” Wally tells him lazily, squeezing his thigh.

Dick needs to say something, but he never does.

-

In a distant sort of way, Dick’s glad that Adamson’s still tied up in the main bathroom; it’s too big, too exposed. Normally, he wouldn’t mind so much, but tonight he’s content with the smaller, more discreet version attached to the third bedroom. He strips and steps into the shower, leaning against the wall while the shower beats a steady pressure against his tense muscles. The soggy bandage around his arm peels half-off, hanging, and Dick removes it completely.

The incision is puffy at the edges and bleeding sluggishly. He thinks it’s still salvageable; if Bruce’s usual safehouses are anything to go by, every bathroom should have an overstuffed first aid kit. Dick probably doesn’t even need the lidocaine; he’s so used to a needle pulling thread through his skin that it barely registers anymore. He just hopes they have good quality suturing thread; his skin is weirdly sensitive to anything other than Ethilon—

He wonders if Jason has gone through this particular ritual yet. If he cried like Dick did the first time. Maybe not. The kid cares too much about appearing tough, and besides, he’s distilled a truth about Robin that Dick never figured out in over a decade: Robin’s a distraction to draw fire. A dummy. A body. It’s not the whole truth, but it is a truth—so of course Batman would need to track him at all times. Jason understood this from the get-go, so he got to know; Dick didn’t. It would’ve been so easy, so convenient, to insert that tracker in him when he was sleeping, or laid up with injury or illness, or even during sparring—

Dick’s shaking again, but it’s no longer distant. His stomach rolls with nausea.

Oh, god.

He had something inside his body for months, maybe years, and he didn’t even know—

He falls to his knees and vomits the half-digested remains of the grilled cheese he’d eaten at Clay’s before leaving. His shaking’s only gotten worse, and he retches and retches again until nothing’s coming up but stringy bile. He’s kneeling in a disgusting sludge of vomit and shower water and the shower that’s still beating down on him is hot enough to hurt, but all he can think of right now is: there’s more there’s more there’s more!

Because that can’t have been the only tracker, right? No, no, Batman is much too paranoid, and Robin is too valuable an asset (too much of a liability) to lose track of that easily. And Dick’s made it so easy, so trusting and open with his body—

He stumbles out of the shower, and rummages through his overnight bag for his electronic scanner. He passes it over every inch of his body, but it doesn’t detect anything. Dick can’t relax, though, because that doesn’t mean anything; Bruce could’ve easily built an upgraded tracker that his old scanner can’t detect. After all, he has all of Wayne Tech at his disposal and Dick’s got—Dick’s got—

(skin)

He settles on cold, slick bathroom tile and drags the first aid box towards him. He pulls out a lancet, rips open the sterile packaging. He positions the blade over an old, long scar on his right thigh—remembers how it was torn open with a rusty crowbar by some random thug-of-the-week who got in a lucky hit. Remembers Bruce holding his hand while he writhed and whimpered and Alfred slowly, painstakingly stitched him back together.

It’s as good a place as any to start.

Dick lowers the blade and makes the incision.

-

The night Robin lets Zucco die, he returns to the Batcave teetering on the verge of shock. He knows Alfred tried to get him to change out of his damp costume and come into the manor, but all he’s managed to get Dick to do is get his mask and gloves off and sit, shivering, on a stool, hands closed around a steaming mug of hot cocoa.

Robin waits while Dick quails.

Batman finally arrives and stands before him, a looming shadow. Dick opens his mouth, but no words come out. What can he possibly say after failing so spectacularly at everything he’s supposed to stand for? After feeling that sharp frisson of near-joyous vengeance when Zucco died in a hail of gunfire, still reaching to Robin for help?

“Dickie,” Bruce says finally, voice raw and disappointed and so, so sad. He reaches out to hold Dick’s shoulder, and something snaps inside of him at last, at long fucking last.

The mug falls to the floor with a resounding crash as Dick flees.

-

Blood’s seeping slowly from the gaping cut on his thigh. There’s no tracker there; Dick was quite thorough. Dick picks up the blade and moves to his other forearm. He’ll need to cover all the places he’s been touched; all the places where he stupidly provided easy access.

Before he can make the incision, however, a hand catches his, quickly, firmly. “Dick.”

Kory.

“I have to keep looking,” he tells her. It’s really important, but he’s feeling dizzy now, and she takes the lancet from him without much effort. The world wavers at the edges as she presses a towel firmly against the wound on his thigh and wraps another around his naked form.

He waits for her to say something (so beautiful), but all she does is settle next to him and pull him towards her. He leans in, closes his eyes, and shivers, and shivers.

[elareine]

I love JayRoy & You ❤❤❤ For your prompts "You make everyday worth living" ❤

I love JayRoy too, but I love you more 💙 Have some softness. 

The thing about brushing your teeth is: You’re gonna stare into the mirror while you do. You don’t have to, but if you’re Jason, it’s unavoidable, and it’s not great. He’d much rather not be confronted with the reality of his body every morning.

At least until he notices what exactly is happening in his mouth.

Jason pokes his head out of the bathroom door. “Roy.”

“Hmm?” Roy grudgingly lifts his head from the pillow.

“Why is our toothpaste turning pink and sparkly?”

“You don’t like it?”

“…hrmph.” Jason goes back to brushing. At least it gives him something else to look at.

—

The smell of sunscreen is a familiar part of Roy’s morning ritual. He does, sadly, have to use it even in winter. Especially in winter, sometimes. Cold and clear was apparently deadly to his skin cells.

At least not much of him would be visible underneath the suit and the extra parker.

“Help me get my neck, Jay?” he asks. He can reach the area himself, but that’s also guaranteed to end with lotion in his hair.

“Sure.” Jason takes the bottle, then waves for Roy to sit down on the stool. They’re of a height, but it’s easier this way.

As always, he waits until the lotion has warmed up on his fingers before carefully touching the soft skin of Roy’s neck. Roy’s head drops forward with a sigh. He’s ranted about Jason’s magic fingers to plenty of people before, and he doesn’t think they appreciated just about how much he meant it.

Eventually, Roy’s skin is all good and protected. Jason keeps going, though. Just runs his big hands over Roy’s body, finding where he’s tense and working at it until Roy is basically a puddle of relaxed goo.

He leans back a bit, trusting Jason to catch him, hold him up. He always does.

—

Jason hangs up with a sigh. Another wonderful talk with his family. He doesn’t know if he’s annoyed or just tired.

Immediately, Roy looks up from his own work. “What’d they want?”

Jason shrugs. “I don’t really know. Intel and a promise to behave?”

“I could block any incoming calls from Gotham, you know. Tim would probably help me.”

Jason considers the offer but shakes his head. “It’s fine,” he says because Roy gets it.

And as if to prove that, his boyfriend snorts. “Bullshit, but okay.”

And it really is.

—

“You want lunch?”

Roy doesn’t look up from his workstation. “‘m not hungry.”

Jason nods and walks away. Roy thinks that’s that, and he doesn’t know how much time passes before Jason returns and holds out a bowl of what smells like his signature chili. “Here.”

And, like. He probably should eat.

It’s one of these things. For a long time, food wasn’t anywhere near the top of the list of things Roy’s body was craving. He’s gotten out of the habit of being hungry.

So Roy opens his mouth and asks: “Feed me?”

Jason grumbles, but he does, spoon by spoon.

—

The blood just won’t fucking go away. Jason’s been scrubbing at the sweater for hours, has soaked it in cleaning solutions and homemade stain removers. The stain is not budging.

It’s not just blood, it’s chemicals, some of them acidic. That might account for it. And the thing is all over the shoulder, too, no way to just cover it up with a patch.  

Fuck.

“Jay,” Roy says very gently, “you know it’s okay to throw things away, right? We do it all the time.”

Jason stares at the sweater, feeling miserable. And yeah, okay, his uniform often gets torn to shreds. It happens. He doesn’t feel good about throwing something away just because of a stain, though. “I guess…”

“I can always buy you a new one,” Roy offers.

Jason looks up at that, doing his best to give a sardonic smile. “What? Gonna take me shopping, Harper?”

A calculating look comes into Roy’s eyes. “Actually…”

“Oh, no.”

“Just imagine it, Jaybird.” The grin on Roy’s face promises Jason all kinds of things. “Picking out clothes for each other. Maybe some suits, maybe not. The underwear section. Changing rooms, Jason.”

“…you’re a pervert,” Jason laughs. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

—

So they maybe possibly potentially don’t have the best sleeping schedule. However, it’s three p.m., and Roy is beat. Jason has to be, too, cause he doesn’t even protest when Roy drags him to the nearest safehouse and straight into bed.

There’s only one problem: This place has no blinds, no curtains, nothing to protect them from the consequences of their choices.

“Jaaaay.”

“Hmm.”

“Make the sun go away.” Roy is aware that he’s whining, but he’s too tired to give a fuck. It’s not that he expects Jason to have a solution, but he’d appreciate some commiseration if he can’t get sleep.

Jason flings an arm out and, with a bit of searching, slides his hand over Roy’s eyes. “Better?”

Roy groans in bliss. Blessed darkness, at last. “Much.”

“Then shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”

“Yeah, love you, too.”

[burning-up-ao3]

Step out of the elevator and into the bowels of PPG Paints Arena an hour before every Penguins game and on  your way past their locker room you are likely to hear a little hooting and hollering, usually from Patric Hornqvist, after a  well -placed shot or a spectacular save by a teammate.                Oh, by the way, a hockey stick or a puck is nowhere to be found.               One pregame ritual for several Penguins is a game involving a soccer ball called “sewer ball” or “two touch.” Most, if not all, NHL teams have a crew that plays before hockey games. Chances are you’ve seen B-roll footage of the Penguins kicking a ball around during the pregame TV shows.                I knew before joining the Penguins beat this season that hockey players did this to get loose before games. I had no idea it gets so competitive. But, as a few players explained, you get a bunch of professional athletes together and hand them any kind of ball, and it’s bound to get a little rowdy.               Thus the scene before every game, with Hornqvist, usually wearing  tight black compression shorts, cheering or complaining as Casey DeSmith, Jake Guentzel, Bryan Rust and others scramble to keep the ball in the air.                “It’s a good way to warm up, getting your hips going, your head  going, your eyes going and at the same time get a little competition,” Hornqvist said. “It’s the  perfect warm-up for me and for other guys, too.” 

Here’s a quick rundown of the rules: The players make a circle and someone sends the soccer ball toward  another player. That player, just like in soccer, has to use their legs, head or torso to keep the ball in the air. They get two touches to corral the ball and then direct it toward somebody else.               The ball continues to get passed around like that until somebody screws up and lets it touch the ground or a player makes an unsalvageable pass.               If that happens, you’re out of the circle. The last man standing  wins.                “You are trying to keep the ball up,” Rust said, “but also trying  to put the ball in a position that makes it hard for the other guy to keep it up.”               Added DeSmith, who said sewer ball helps him stretch out and  sharpen his foot-eye coordination: “Honestly, we could keep it up for a while. But it’s more about how spectacular the saves are. One time last month, there were like 10 amazing saves. It was  like the sickest rally. Those are the best.”               Rust got a big grin remembering some epic games when Tom Kuhnhackl was still on the team and players would slide and dive  all over the place to keep rallies going for a few minutes. Typically, they last around 40 seconds.                While things can get a little crazy, Rust says no Penguins have suffered a significant injury playing the game, just some “minor stubbed toes or a slight roll of an ankle or maybe a bruise.” But he’s heard stories of guys from other teams getting hurt,  including one player who tore his hamstring.               The Penguins play on the road, too. A trainer makes sure to pack  a soccer ball, and the players find an uncongested area outside their locker room.               A small group of players – Guentzel, DeSmith, Rust, Riley Sheahan  and maybe a plus-one – plays “more of an in-tight skill game”  around 5 p.m. After the team meeting at 5:30, a bigger, usually  “more heated” game goes on.               That one typically has about 10 players, including Hornqvist and  sometimes guys such as Evgeni Makin and Sidney Crosby. Most of them, I’m told, are pretty solid at sewer ball, but Hornqvist  is reportedly the best of the bunch.                I mentioned that to Hornqvist, who played soccer in Sweden until he was 15 and still plays with friends in the offseason, and Malkin, who seemed to be spacing out in the next locker stall over, suddenly chimed in.               “No, no, no, no, no,” the big Russian objected. “I’m the best.”               So, yeah, it gets spirited. And that’s a good thing. “It’s a good way to get the blood going and to kind of get into a competitive  mindset,” Rust said.

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