#then they knocked over a sleeping tim who was holding his two days old coffee in his favorite mug

[teetkmost123]

Dick: come on bud, we're sorry.

Tim *looking at the bottom of the staircase, where his coffee mug lies in pieces*:

Jason: I- I'll get you a new one?

Tim *turns to his brother*: you better start running or I will become an only child.

Damian: Hey, I didn't even do anything you imbecile!!!

[yeetus-feetus]

Sugar sugar

(I need to see these WIPs even tho I'm not part of the fandom)

Oh yeah! Crack treated seriously time! Here's what I got of this wip so far:

Kon was planning on buying some new vinyl records when his card declined at the checkout. He tried his second card and, surprisingly, that one declined too. Huh, had he already spent all of this month's allowance already? How?

Probably all the concerts and parties he went to. And the fancy hotels. And that bet he lost to Cassie.

Shit. How was he going to buy food for himself for the next week and a half with no money?

“Hey, can you put those on hold for me?” he asks the lady at the counter, who nods and asks for his name and number so he can come back for them later.

Kon’s first thought is to go to Lexcorp, his pops has heaps of money, surely he can spare a few hundred dollars, right? He flys over and knocks on the large glass windows of Lex’s private office to try and get his attention.

“Yo! Pops!”

Finally Lex looks up, a tired expression on his face. “What do you want now boy?”

“Gimme money! pleeaassseeee?”

“You spent all of your allowance already?? Konner, we've talked about this!” Lex replies in annoyance.

“But I need money for food! And some really cool vinyls... Please Lex?”

Lex just lets out a heavy sigh. “Go ask your father, I'm busy right now.”

Kon frowns and falls away from the window with a huff. Fine, he’ll go find Clark then.

“Ayo!” he calls as he enters the Daily Planet. He can hear the answering groan from Clark’s office upstairs. Benefits of having super-hearing- or maybe not for Clark in this case.

He’s in his civics, so it’s not suspicious when he leans in the doorway of Clark Kent’s office. “Hey Dad, got any money to spare for your eldest?”

Clark sighs. "I'm not your- whatever. You spent all of your allowance again didn’t you? You know this isn’t a sustainable lifestyle Kon, I’m not giving you anymore money.”

“But-”

“No, it’s time you learnt some responsibility here. I’m putting my foot down, you need to learn you can’t just throw your money around.” Clark states firmly, and Kon’s shoulders drop as he pouts.

“No fair.” he mumbles.

Clark goes back to typing on his computer. “You need to set yourself up a system, money management; have a decent amount of money set aside for needs, and what’s left over can be spent on whatever it is you kids do these days. You know when i was your age i didn’t have half the privileges you do-”

Konner had tuned him out past that point, too busy rolling his eyes and totally not up for a classic Clark lecture.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever old man”. Called over his shoulder as he moved to leave.

“Gosh I hope Jon never becomes as difficult or defiant as that kid”, Clark sighs under his breath, shaking his head as he watches Konner walk away, winking at one of the younger reporters on his way out.

Okay, so Kon has zero dollars to his name right now. Right, he can figure this out…

By 'figure it out', he means he’s going to go whine about it to all his friends.

Back at Mount Justice, Bart is laughing at him- like full on cackling. Which, rude. “I can’t believe you spent all your money already haha! Guess you’re gonna have to stay here with the rest of us until daddy’s money kicks back in”.

Kon groans. Those vinyls he wanted can only be held for him for a week, then they go back on the shelves. And it’s not that he’s against staying in here— most of his stuff is here after all, he sleeps here most of the time— but he doesn’t know if he can handle a whole two weeks here with nowhere else to go.

“Yeah, I guess”, he replies defeatedly.

“Well if you learnt some money management-” Cassie begins.

“Don’t start, I already got the Clark lecture.” Kon crosses his arms and slumps further back into the couch in the communal living room.

“What’s wrong with him?” Tim asks, walking into the room.

>ping<

Kon sits up and reaches for his phone on the coffee table as Cassie begins explaining the situation to Tim. Then, suddenly, Kon is standing up and pacing.

“NO FUCKIN WAY!!”

“What happened?” Bart asks, trying to peek at the screen.

“Lex says he and Clark had a conversation about my over-spending habits and have come to an agreement to cut my allowances altogether. Apparently I’m too spoiled and need to experience working a civilian job in order to learn blah blah blah bullshit!” he finishes.

“Well you do need to learn how to manage your spending, but cutting you off completely is a bit rough”, Tim speaks up.

Kon slumps back onto the couch and holds his head in his hands.

“Rough? It’s completely cruel, how is Kon going to keep up his rich babygirl lifestyle”, Bart giggles.

“Shut up Bartholomew!” Kon tosses a couch cushion at his head, which Bart easily dodges.

“You did not just full name me.” The speedster crosses his arms and glares at Kon.

Kon groans loudly and tosses himself back so he’s spread out across the couch dramatically.

“You could just pick up a casual job like the rest of us y’know”, Cassie states, shoving his legs off the couch so she can sit down.

“Me? Work? Nuh uh. Not gonna happen.”

“You’re gonna have to, we all take turns paying for the meals here, you can’t just leach off the rest of us. You know that.” She reminds him. "I think this whole being cut off thing may be a valuable lesson for you”, she tells him with a shit-eating grin.

“But I don't want to wooorkk”, Kon whines. “I was created to kick ass and look pretty, not slave away in some shitty retail job or whatever.” “Oh come on, you’d do great in customer service dude,” Bart pipes up. “You could just charm them all into spending all their money with your good looks. Maybe even get to flirt with some of the really cute ones? Might even get a decent raise if you lure in a ton more customers.”

“What, you want him to basically whore himself out to earn brownie points at work?” Cassie.

“Well when you put it like that… wait actually, maybe being a whore could work for him”, Bart laughs.

“Excuse me!? I’m right here guys!” Kon speaks up. “And I'm not a whore. I’m not going to sleep around for cash!” He pouts.

“No you misunderstand. I meant you should try being a Sugar Baby or something, which doesn’t actually necessarily involve sleeping with anyone. Your boyish charm and perfectly sculpted muscles should be enough for people to throw money at you for no other reason.” Bart explains. “Plus, you wouldn't have to work, and you’d probably end up getting paid heaps.”

Tim finally speaks up then. “Bart’s not wrong. And it’s not a totally bad idea actually.”

Everyone turns to look at him in surprise, Cassie immediately questioning him. “You’re really indulging this idea? Are you serious right now??”

Tim shrugs. “I have a Sugar Baby.”

“WHAT!?” “WHAT???” “Wait really!?” “How!?!?” Bart demands to know.

“I don’t know, it just sort of happened…” Tim rubs at the back of his neck. “He’s only a year younger than me, and he was going to be kicked out his apartment and I don't know... Just, he’s really cute and I wanted to help him out- ...Stop looking at me like you're judging me Cassie!”

“What and you just pay this guys rent because you think he’s cute!?” Cassie questions.

“Well, I pay a little more than just his rent, and he does make it worth it so…” Tim trails off, going a little pink in the face.

“How does he make it worth it?” Konner sits up in curiosity.

“And how much are you spending on him???” Bart.

Tim gives his attention to Bart first. “Well y’know, just his bills, College fees and all that- And occasional gifts or nice dinners when we get time to go out on dates and stuff, mostly we just hang out and play video games together though… sooo yeah", he explains. "Oh, and I have total access to his bank account”.

“Unbelievable.” Cassie comments. She can’t believe they’re only just finding out about this now, with the way Tim talks about it, it sounds like this has been going on for a while.

“Okay, but- what does he do for you, y’know, as a Sugar Baby?” Kon asks, his eyes full of eager curiosity.

Tim goes pink again. “Well, it’s mostly just company outside of the whole vigilante thing. It’s nice spending time with someone in a civilian environment I guess, and Bernard is just so nice. It’s mostly just normal couple stuff I think? Not that we’re in, like, an official relationship or anything..."

Kon hums. “So sex, then. Right?”

“NO!" Tim is quick to shout. "Well, not at first anyway… it’s not centred around that at all- It’s nothing like that in the least!" He explains. "that’s only something that’s come up just recently okay! It was just me helping him out and him being a little flirtatious with me, nothing more …Until about a week ago, okay?”

“Yeah, I am not getting any further involved with this conversion.” And Cassie nopes right out of there.

Tim sighs and watches as she leaves, a little embarrassed. Honestly it’s his own fault for mentioning it in the first place.

“Byeee Cassie!” Bart calls after her, giggling.

“Okay well flirting and occasionally going out on dates is easy, I can do that”, Kon concludes.

“See, told you. You could easily be a Sugar Baby!" Bart beams, mostly just happy that one of his ideas was actually a good one.

“Yeah so, Tim, I could just be your Sugar Baby right?”

Tim sputters and goes even more pink. "What!?”

“Well Sugar Daddies usually have more than just the one Baby, right?” Bart.

“Well yeah but- I wouldn't exactly refer to myself as a uhm.. I am only 19", Tim reminds him, "and I mean- well... Yeah that is sorta true but-”

“But what?” Bart asks cheekily. “Come on! you helped out this Bernard guy. You wouldn’t help out your absolute hunk of a teammate?C'moooon Timmy, look at this poor boy, not a single cent to his name”, Bart teases.

“Yeah, and you could do that money management thing or whatever if you have access to my account too!” Kon says, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Well- yeah, um. Okay, let me just take a moment to really think this through before I do something stupid.... I’ll get back to you.” And just like that, the flustered little Robin was out the door.

Bart turned to smirk at Kon. “Nice! You totally got him, I bet you by tomorrow afternoon you'll have the money for those sweet vinyls dude- And I am so gonna tweet about it!”

“You will not tweet about it! My dads can't know! And I'm sure Batman wouldn't appreciate it", Kon replied firmly. "And that's if Tim even agrees to this.

“Oh he will, trust me.”

I want Kon to end up meeting Tim's other sugar baby and immediately realising Tim was right about him being cute. More than cute even, absolutely stunning.

[ragingbookdragon]

I’ve Finally Found Something For My Shelf

Batmom Story!

A/N: This was the first Batmom story I ever wrote. It’s actually one of the best pieces that I’ve written before I got better at writing. Enjoy! -Thorne <3

Everyone had a shelf in the Batcave; it was kind of a given. They were placed side by side starting with Alfred, then Bruce, and then (Y/N). When Dick came along and joined the family, they built his shelf after (Y/N)’s. Each time someone new joined the family, they put up a new shelf. The shelf itself was more symbolic than anything; mostly saying that they had a spot in the family, but over the years, items found their way on their shelves.

Alfred’s shelf was simple: a photo of him and the Wayne’s, a photo of him with the entire Batfamily, and a rare china set that Bruce and (Y/N) spent years tracking down in order to give it to him for Father’s Day.

Bruce’s shelf contained exactly four items: the first was the last photo he and his parents ever took, the second was his and (Y/N)’s wedding photo, the third was a picture of him and Alfred on Father’s Day, and the fourth was a picture of him and all the boys sandwiched together, out cold on the couch after movie night.

Dick’s shelf contained various items: his BPD badge, a picture of him and his birth parents, his mother’s bracelet, a picture of him and Bruce and (Y/N) at his high school graduation, a photo of him and all his friends, and a photo of him and his brothers.

For a long time, Jason’s shelf lie covered in dust. But when he came back, his most prized possessions made their way up: a photo of him and (Y/N)-with ice-cream all over their faces-smiling, his favorite book, and the first Red Hood he had (before he replaced it, of course).

Tim had his items: a bag of his favorite coffee beans, a picture of him and Conner and Bart, the booklet of newspaper clippings on Batman and Robin he collected when he was a kid, and a photo of him with Bruce and (Y/N) on either side smiling after he gave his first speech at W.E.

Damian, much like his father, only had three items: a picture of him snuggled between a sleeping Bruce and (Y/N), and the two hilts of his grandfather’s swords.

But (Y/N)’s shelf was always empty. Many times her boys asked her why her shelf never had anything of memory or value. She always responded with, “I haven’t found anything to put up there just yet; but don’t worry, I will one day.” She always said it, but never did; until one night.

           It was mid-July and everyone was happy patrol was over; no one likes sweating and smelling in skin tight suits. When they got back to the cave, it was a race to see who could shuck their suit off and hit the shower first. First place meant the fastest relief to all the sweat and grime. Somehow, Bruce always won, despite him wearing the most and the heaviest suit. But once they were all showered and satisfied, they all returned to the cave and went about the night how they usually did. Bruce sat at the Batcomputer listening to a caffeinated Tim explain the newest updates he’d installed, Dick and Damian talked about anything and everything as the lightly sparred, and Alfred and Jason sat at the table with books between them as they drank tea. All that was missing was the matriarch who’d left to go upstairs saying, “I’ll be right back, I forgot to grab something.” They eventually heard her coming down the steps humming, and carrying a large tote. Mindful of the song she was humming; Jason looked at Alfred and murmured, “Well, she’s humming Satisfied from Hamilton, so she must be in a good mood.” Alfred smiled and responded.

           “Indeed she must be.” They all watched her walk a few steps before setting down the tote and rearranging the things inside. Bruce swiveled around in his chair and spoke.

           “Love, do you need any help?” (Y/N) paused and smiled at him, making his heart flip.

           “No thank you dear, I can handle it.” She picked up the tote again and continued on her way. By now, everyone was watching, wondering what she was carrying; Dick propped his chin atop Damian’s head asking,

           “Mom, what do you have in there?” She glanced at him and grinned.

           “Nothing you need to worry about Dickie. I got it.” He snorted and shrugged his shoulders, but kept watching.

           Their eyes followed their matriarch as she walked over to her shelf and put the tote down in front of it. She bent over and picked up a can of pledge and a rag and sprayed it. (Y/N) ran the rag over the shelf cleaning away the dust that had sat there for years, until it was gone. Then, she set the rag down and bent over again, reaching into the tote. The boys watched curiously as she pulled out a picture and set it right next to the beginning of the shelf. They looked at it and saw that is was her and Alfred, sitting on the patio outside, books in their laps, tea in their hands, their faces joyful. She moved over, dragging the tote with her and bent over again, this time pulling out and placing a picture of her and Bruce. Bruce was in his Bat-suit smiling faintly, holding an over-the-moon (Y/N), who had one leg hanging down his arm, the other in the air like a Rockette; she had one arm around his neck, the other struck out like a magician saying ‘Ta-Da!’ (Y/N) paused for a moment and a fond look came over her face before she moved and placed another photo up. This time, it was her and a costumed Dick pulling the same poses her and Bruce had, except Dick was the Rockette this time. His head was tipped back and he looked like he was laughing as (Y/N) smiled, despite struggling to hold him up. She laughed at the photo and moved again, and put up a photo of her and Jason. They both sat on either ends of the couch in the study, slouching, with their elbows on the arm rests-but sitting properly enough to look bad-ass- and each held a glass full of amber liquid. Jason had his hood on and (Y/N)’s face was raised slightly, a haughty look on her face. Jason liked to call it ‘Red Hood and his Bad-Ass Ma’ photo. (She could never get him to pose all nicely for the camera because, ‘I’m not letting someone use a ‘cute’ photo against me and ruin my bad-boy image’.) (Y/N) grinned at the photo, pulling out the next and placing it up. She and a suited Tim stood side by, Bo staffs resting along the back of their shoulders, grinning like maniacs. The next photo she put up was of her and Damian. She had put on the OG Batgirl suit and stood behind Robin, hands on his shoulders as he had his arms crossed, arrogance strung on his face; a prideful smirk playing her lips. She moved one last time and pulled out one more photo, and her heart swelled at it. She lay next to Bruce on their bed, the boys laying anywhere and everywhere there was room. She had her back snuggled up to Bruce’s chest, who had an arm wrapped around her middle, the other wrapped around Dick, who lay on his other side. Damian was curled up on her chest, arms wrapped around her, and Tim lay between her and Bruce, under her arm and head on her shoulder. Jason lay on the other side of her, facing away from everybody, but her arm wrapped under his head and her hand laid flat against his chest where his heart was. It was one of the most treasured memories she ever had, all her boys with her, and for once not fighting.

She hadn’t remembered exactly how they all wound up in there, but she still welcomed her babies. But of course, a hand in someone’s face, followed by a foot in someone’s side ruined the moment when they woke up. (Y/N) looked at the photo and laughed at the memory of after they woke up. Damian's hand in Tim’s face who shoved him away, resulting in him knocking Jason, who in turned shoved back, and like a Newton’s cradle, knocked Tim into Dick, who ended up shoving back at Jason. Thus, resulting in an even bigger fight as the two oldest began horsing around, only to be dragged into the two young one’s fight. Eventually it became a free-for-all and arms and legs were flying around until Bruce shoved all four of them off the bed with his foot. They hit the floor and stared at him in shock as he glared at them, then wrapped his arms around a giggling (Y/N), and buried his face in her neck. Damian looked at Tim, who looked at Jason, who looked at Dick. Dick’s face set into a pout and Jason piped up, “Hey Golden-boy, is that old man feeling on our mom?” Dick’s pout turned into an evil grin.

           “You know what Jaybird, I think he is.” Jason looked at Tim and Damian and tipped his head to the still giggling (Y/N).

           “What do you guys say we save our mom and teach the old man a lesson?” Bruce popped his head up, glaring at them as he stressed,

           “Don’t. You. Dare.” He watched their faces set in wicked grins and they all pounced on him. (Y/N) rolled away just in time to avoid being squished when arms wrapped around her and hauled her over their shoulder. Jason ran to the door.

           “I got Ma! Let’s get outta here!” The boys all jumped up and ran after a fleeing Jason, followed by an irked Bruce.

           “Get back here with my wife! You’ve had her all week! It’s my turn to spend time with her!” Dick turned around and stuck out his tongue as he slid down the banister, catching Tim and Damian who flung themselves down too. Damian turned to Bruce, who stood at the top of the stairs.

           “Catch us if you can, Father!” The giggling quartet of boys ran off into the Batcave with an equally giggly mother in tow. Bruce smiled at the top of the stairs before remembering why he was annoyed and hauled butt after them.

           “Hey! I’m still serious about it being my turn!”

           (Y/N) giggled a little and wiped her eyes as she remembered the memory and a set of strong arms wrapped around her waist. She looked over her shoulder and saw Bruce, who kissed her cheek before nuzzling into her neck. “You finally found something for your shelf.” She shook her head excitedly.

           “Oh I’m not finished yet!” He pulled away, an amused look on his face.

           “Oh?” She grinned and picked up the tote, walking back to her and Bruce’s picture. (Y/N) reached in the bag and pulled out an action figure, setting it up in front of it. Then, she moved to each of the boy’s pictures and placed one in front of it. The boys had all gathered around to look at her shelf and they burst into laughter, which resulted in (Y/N) beginning to pout.

           “Stop laughing at me. It’s not funny!” This only made the boys laugh harder. Bruce wrapped his arms around her again.

           “Is this why you kept going to Bat-Burger every other weekend?” (Y/N) felt heat rise to her cheeks and she cleared her throat.

           “…Maybe…” He kissed her cheek again. Finally the boy’s stopped laughing and looked at the actions figures. Tim spoke first, voice laced with humor.

           “How many Red Hood action figures did you get?” Everyone began laughing at that and when they calmed down, she spoke.

           “Enough that I don’t need any more Red Hood action figures.” They started laughing again, and when they stopped, they all hugged their mom. She placed kisses where she could: the top of Damian’s, Tim’s cheek, Jason and Dick’s shoulders (the two boys towered over her, c’mon). (Y/N) squeezed them all tight and spoke.

           “Hey boys, I’ve finally found something to put on my shelf.”

[octalove]

X: The Bottom

(Batgirl/Red Hood)

Description: One way or another, it all catches up. Previous.

After I all but fled from Jason’s, I came home to a dark house. Unsurprising- it was around midnight, and that was usual patrol time. I hadn’t bothered to patch up my face, or anything else. I didn’t have the mental capacity at the moment. Just as I was about to limp up the stairs and retreat, by phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out, looking at the caller ID.

Bruce.

I answered without thinking; my whole body was on autopilot at the moment.

“H-hello?”

“You’re home.”

I didn’t bother confirming or denying. I nodded, even though he obviously didn’t know that.

“Come down to the cave.”

And that was that. The thing was, I was exhausted, covered in my own blood, scared and high-strung. I wanted to see him. I wanted someone to help me- to tell me it was gonna be okay. I wanted my father.

I stumbled down into the dark, hoping the adrenaline comedown wouldn’t send me crashing to the floor. Bruce, Damian, and Alfred were in the cave, looking over monitors and running interference with Nightwing and Oracle. My eyes sluggishly dragged over them. Not one of their faces gave anything away. They just took in my appearance and held mannequin expressions.

“Explain.” Bruce’s voice held all the tension of a migraine. It was the biggest, widest, deepest question I’d ever been asked. I didn’t know how to answer, so I didn’t.

“Y/N.”

“I... I’m...”

“Answer me.”

“You don’t understand.” My voice was rising with the panic that flit like a bird around my head. I knew I was unraveling, but Bruce had no idea what the past few months looked like for me. What it was like to know Penelope D’amici, and to want revenge for her- then to have it, ten fold. To watch the man responsible have his head slowly made unrecognizable, then to fight Jason Todd, who was a furious, wild thing and an icy phantom all at once.

“You don’t-“

“Enough.” It was an order so hard and sharp that I quieted. He composed himself. “Enough. You need to tell me what you’ve been doing tonight. Now.”

I shook my head, taking a couple steps back to put some safe distance in between us.

“No... I can’t handle this.”

“I know that. You’ve proven to me more than a handful of times that you can’t handle this.” I looked at him, but I couldn’t seem to register all of the stern disappointment he wore.

“You’ve completely lost grip in the last few months, and it’s become quite apparent that you’re no longer able to shoulder the responsibility of your place within our cause.”

of your place within our company. I could almost hear the words. I wanted to laugh; bitterly, sadly.

They worked for him and so do you. Only difference is they worked for Bruce and you work for Batman.

I worked for Batman. I was getting fired.

“Consider yourself barred until we can figure whether or not you truly value the safety of Gotham over your own whims and emotions.”

“But, Batgirl-“

“I don’t need Batgirl, Y/N.”

I was expecting it, but the fatalistic tone in his voice still hit me- like a book slamming shut before I got to read the end.

It was the weight of the past few months that sent me reeling thereafter. I didn’t leave time to consider a response before I turned and scaled to steps to the manor, bolting through the silent, dark house and making it back to my bedroom. The door slammed shut. I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to organize the events of the night.

Finally, an involuntary sob escaped me. One hand went over my mouth as the other gripped the sheets for some merciful steadying element. I gasped, shoulders shaking, and tears streaking through the blood on my face.

I sat there for a while, going over the night’s near-misses, Bruce’s words, and the resulting mixture of disappointment and fear.

It would’ve been better if I had just stay where I was that night in Otisburg. Just stayed gargoyle-still and watched over the peaceful streets.

But I didn’t- and now I didn’t know where to begin. At least Jason knew who to hate. I couldn’t hate any of them because it was nobody’s fault but my own. It wasn’t Bruce’s fault I was reckless, and it wasn’t Jason’s fault he was angry. Both of them were bigger and more dauntless than I was, and between them, I was nothing. My mind restlessly searched for somewhere to shift the blame, so that maybe I could feel justified in my ceaseless pity- until I’d exhausted every option and teetered on the edge of lying to myself. I disillusioned myself by turning on the shower head.

The water burned my wounds, but there was an overall comfortable warmth in the writhing steam and dancing water at my feet. Though safely enveloped in my fervid baptism, a new great chasm erupted in the space between myself and my family. A foreign distance jaggedly inserting itself into the marble of the mansion, tectonic plates shifting with the bodies in the foundations.

I had outgrown the skyscrapers. I’d surpassed the tallest spire in Gotham. And now, helplessly, gracelessly, I was falling.

*

When I blinked my eyes open, it was still dark. My head ached from the pressure of crying, and I could feel how swollen my eyes were. The cool sheets beneath my head were a relief. Checking my phone, I saw that it was almost 5 am. The part of the night that was only a few hours ago seemed now like a mature memory. I had several missed calls from Dick, and one from Babs. A text from Tim just a few minutes old asking if I was awake.

There was a knock on the door, and foggily, I realized that it was the sound that had woken me up the first place. I pulled myself to a sitting position, and faced the door.

“Come in.” My voice was hoarse, so it was a raspy whisper at best. Still, the door cracked open, dim light from the hall flooding into the room. My aching eyes fell on Dick’s face, changed from his uniform into sweatpants and a t-shirt. He had a new bruise on his arm, but otherwise seemed alright.

There were no words from him as he stepped into the dark, settling on the edge of my bed in a slow, tired way. I didn’t look at him. He reached for me, and I realized he had a bandage in his hand. Then, I remembered the laceration on my cheek, and as if on cue, the cold, still air of my room began to irritate it. It stung as he applied a couple of butterfly bandages to hold it together, and then a larger one to cover the expanse of my cheek. I must have looked pathetic. Too pathetic to reprimand, so he settled instead for a weighty silence.

“You’ll need stitches.” He said finally.

A silver gray light was sleeping through the blinds, the last labored breaths of an aging night disappearing with the arrival of dawn. He sighed, letting his hands fall away from my face.

“I haven’t been here.” He said quietly. “I haven’t been here for you, and I wasn’t there for him, and now...”

A siren wailed somewhere in the city.

“...and now... now it’s all happening again, and I’m making the same mistakes, aren’t I?”

“No.” I whispered. “You’re not.”

I couldn’t stop the tears, even though I was sick of crying. I felt his hand on my back, and I leaned into his shirt as I sobbed.

“I was so terrified.” I confessed, muffled by the fabric. “I didn’t mean for any of it to happen. I didn’t want either of you to get hurt.”

“I know. I saw you. He didn’t hurt me, Y/N. I wasn’t going to hurt him, either.”

“I just... we were doing so much good. Cliffs- he killed that girl. He shot her in her own bed, just like my moms-“

“Shh...” He pulled his other arm around me, wrapping me up. It should have felt safe, but I only felt the guilt and grief filling my chest, like fighting a tide in a raging sea. A hopeless, uphill fight against the non-sentience of things you can’t take back. “It’s alright.” Dick said. “I know you had all the right reasons. I know.”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter, now.”

“That’s not true. It’s not too late for him, and it’s not too late for you.”

I watched the light from my window grow stronger, a lulling, gradual transition.

“It just needs time.”

*

And so, I was given time. Its passage became a blur. Christmas break came, to my relief, because I wouldn’t have been able to handle to upkeep of school, even if I usually could hold myself together. I still did things like woke up, had coffee, and walked in the garden. I went to a café to get a seasonal drink I wanted to try, and went shopping at the gaudy mall in Fashion District on a Saturday. My phone was tapped of course, and I was fairly certain my car had been chipped. Just one of the side effects; reflective shards of shattered trust that pricked me, but helped me see clearly. Every night, I went to bed.

Normal things. Terrible, standard, ordinary things. It was all a rythmic reminder that I was now ordinary.

Hopelessness was no stranger to me. I had hopelessness in excess, and it kept me in bed some days, left to rot in my own sorrow and self pity, and Bruce allowed me that. I still went down to the cave and asked about unfolding cases, because the utter absence of control left me holding onto whatever was left with white knuckles.

Tim dipped gracefully around me, like when I entered the room, the wooden floors became broken glass, and if he didn’t flee within two minutes his feet would fall victim.

Dick was the opposite; overbearing in every sense of the word. Texting, calling, even bringing me gifts. It felt insultingly akin to charity.

Damian braved me. It was that stubborn little whim he often had. He probably liked it- everyone not knowing what to do with me. He initiated conversation because he reveled in the idea that everyone else was too scared to.

And as for me, starkly situated between Jason’s hate and Dick’s overbearing management and Bruce’s disappointment, Damian bringing me a bowl of peach slices or indulging me about how a case was going was nice. I never would’ve guessed Damian al Ghul Wayne would be the keeper of my sanity, but even pigs could probably fly under the right circumstances.

Not a word from Jason. Despite our final words to one another, I ached for all that came before. His jagged laugh, and dark, attentive eyes. The way he never put his head down, like he had pride under his chin. The way he watched and listened. I didn’t want to be alone anymore; the kind of alone where you’re surrounded by people but not a single one of them has any idea who or what you are. I wasn’t my mothers’ daughter. I wasn’t Batgirl. I knew that.

But what was I to him? He didn’t like me because I was Batgirl- he hated Batgirl. He liked me because-

because...

I tried to think of a reason. Any reason he would let me push away his helmet of the darkness of that alley. Why he would kiss me on the balcony of Olivier D’amici’s Luskan townhouse. Not needy, not lustful, not vengeful. Just an ordinary kiss. Ordinary.

Ding.

[strongsassysexysloane]

Eleventh Day of Twelve - A Tired but Treasured Day

A/N - Look at that! We are second from the end! Thank you to all the comments and love! Really appreciate it, it's been a long week!

. . . .

Read previous drabbles below.

. . . .

You walked into the office clinging to your cup of coffee. It felt like you were just here and you were, only five hours ago. This time however it was your own doing. You'd found a tiny shred of evidence to go on and had to follow it before the trail went cold. Then it lead to Gibbs and Nick finding the killer in a warehouse in town and bringing him in at just after 0100. You didn't finish interrogating until 0200 and it was now 0730. Coffee, coffee needed to be pumped into you to wake up this morning and a constant flow throughout the day would be required.

To your delight there was a hot cup sitting on your desk as you walked into the bullpen. No note so you assumed this time it wasn't from your gift giver. Day 11 and no one had spilled the beans or gone looking at the cameras like they wanted to on day one.

"Gibbs dropped it off about five minutes ago before he went down to get a report from Kasie who wasn't pleased to be called in so early." Ellie explained while leaning back in her chair and sipping her coffee. "He brought one for all of us."

"Christmas miracles do happen." Nick grinned, dropping his small cup in the trash. "Done."

"It's not a race. You just slugged all your energy for the next three hours."

"Oh please, I've stayed up later and come to work more tired before. Remember the November incident." He waved off.

"I still feel hungover from it." Ellie grumbled, scrunching her nose at the memory of Tequila.

"Please don't remind me." Tim groaned. "Plus I'm not allowed anymore Tequila, Delilah's orders."

"She may be on to something." You ran your hand through your hair, smirking at the banter. Turning on your computer for the day, you saw the next gift hanging from your desk lamp. It was beautiful, a little teddy bear carved out of marble with a shimmering purple and green crown sitting on its head.

"Day 11, the gift giver strikes again." You rolled your eyes at Nick's words while holding the Christmas decoration in your hand, running your thumb over the intricate detail.

It was sweet, a cute addition to your small Christmas tree at home. You'd put it up on December one. That was your tradition and some years it didn't seem worth it but you made the effort. Being alone on Christmas sucked, there was no way around it but this year you were making an effort to not sulk about it. The secret gift giver certainly lifted the spirit as well.

Your tree wasn't over the top but a nice addition to your home. This would fit perfectly front and centre and you made sure of it.

The day was relatively easy. The office banter keeping the spirits going with a good supply of caffeine. It was really just a lot of paper work and then you were set free around mid afternoon to try and have that weekend off. This time Vance made sure the team wouldn't be called in. There were other agents to take the call after all.

You'd missed Jack most of the day and didn't want to interrupt her as she was head deep in evals for the end of year. Instead you decided to shoot her a text when you got home.

- Just wanted to say have a good weekend. Didn't want to interrupt your head mojo.

You knew she'd get a kick out of it and you weren't mistaken.

- Head mojo hey? Smarty in the evening just like you said. Missed you today, didn't realise how many evals I still had to do before I went on my trip. Now I'm back logged and still at work.

It was just hitting 1830 which was a late one for Jack on a Friday. She was always hurrying along at the end of the week to make sure by the time 1700 hit she was out the door.

- I hope you are either finishing for the evening or planning on having dinner while you work. It's getting late, Jack.

- No need to worry about little old me. I need to get these done, I'll grab a bite later. Enjoy your night.

An idea popped to mind, you grabbed your coat and car keys and headed back out into the snowfall with your blue scarf still wrapped around your neck.

Thankfully, you weren't too far from the Navy yard and the Diner was just a five minute detour on the route. You called ahead so the food was ready when you got there and still warm when you knocked on her door.

"Come in, y/n."

You huffed, opening the door. "Now how could you possibly know it was me?"

Jack was sitting on her couch, shoes off, legs crossed and glasses tugging her hair back and sitting on her head. "You didn't reply, you always reply. And you care too much." She got up, placing her laptop on the coffee table and walking up to you.

Those were a lot of compliments you weren't entirely prepared for. You thought Jack was the one that cared a lot, but never too much. "I think I care just the right amount but I can eat this all by myself if you'd prefer?" You smirked, pretending to walk back out but Jack caught your arm.

"I didn't mean it like that. I lo-ike that you care so much." She ran her hand up and down your arm a few times before dropping it away. Her warm comforting smile turned into a cute frown. "And don't you dare walk out on me now that youve made all this effort to come here." She took a deep breath in. "Is that two cheeseburgers and fries?"

The frown and the way her nose twitched at the smell was completely adorable. "With a side of gravy. Wasn't sure if you liked it on your fries or not." You shrugged, missing the soft and loving look Jack gave, you walked past her and sat at one end of the couch, unpacking the bag of food. "Come, sit." You urged, patting the spot beside you as she just stood there and watched.

With a soft smile curving her lips, she came around after a beat and sat exactly where you said to. She took the small pot of gravy and poured it over her fries before pouring the rest over yours. "Thank you."

You bumped her shoulder lightly. "Anytime. Can't have Jack Sloane Hangry and loose in DC." That got you a slap on the knee but it was worth it as her hand soothed the spot she hit and stayed there for a while until it was time to eat.

"Didn't mean to ruin your Friday night plans either." She took a huge bite of the burger.

Between bites you managed an answer, "You mean my big watching The Holiday movie while eating a cup of noodles or the one where I go to sleep at 7pm because im living on about four hours sleep right now."

Skipping over how tired you were she jumped at the mention of the movie. "That's my favourite Christmas movie! It's got the best of both worlds! The sun of LA and the cold winter wonderland of the UK. God, I haven't watched that in years! My mum and I went to the movies to watch it and then every Christmas after we'd watch it together, some people had Love Actually, we had The Holiday. Guess I stopped watching when mum passed." She ate a few more fries. "Wow, Jack, way to ruin the good mood. Sorry. Got lost for a moment there."

You liked it when she rambled. She always would say so many interesting things and you just loved to hear her voice. You prayed the day never came when you wouldn't hear it anymore. "Don't apologize-" You held up your hand to stop her from butting in. "- And, no it's not because of Gibbs silly rule. I enjoy hearing about your past about things you love or did. The Holiday is a sweet movie, my must watch in December along with The Grinch, Home Alone and many more. I try my best to keep the holiday spirits up when I'm by myself for them which has been the last many."

"I enjoy hearing you talk too." She smiled, taking a massive bite of her burger and filling up her cheeks.

There was no silence after that. The evals were put to the side and you talked for what seemed like hours. Talking about childhood Christmas' and silly stories to cringe worthy dating moments over this time of year. It wasn't until you couldn't keep your mouth shut from yawning that you said good night around 2300.

"Sorry you didn't get your evals done." You sing over the roof of your car as Jack unlocked her Mini.

"Don't be. I'm happy to come in tomorrow because tonight was fun!" Her genuine smile told you that she wasn't lying. You could read people pretty well and most times Jack Sloane was an enigma to you but right now you knew she was telling the truth.

"Good night, Jack."

She opened her car door before adding. "Enjoy your movie!"

You yawned with a laugh. "You're kidding right? I'm going to sleep, I'll watch it tomorrow now."

"Fair, good night y/n. Sweet Dreams!"

. . . .

Who doesn't want this to end? Me. But I also maybe, slightly want a break from writing every day. It's been fun but tiring. I've enjoyed it a lot though! I love this time of year, if only I wasn't working in retail.

[beholdme]

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 6

Chapters: 6/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can't help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

"Do you really hate Keats that much?" Martin asks Jon, sounding faintly betrayed. They're sitting on a pile of cushions in front of Gerry's big window, while the man himself stands painting nearby.

There has been no previous mention of Keats since they arrived several hours ago, nor in the entire course of Gerry knowing them together.

Granted, he had barely been awake when they had arrived, having rolled out of bed just seconds before the knock came, but Gerry thought he had been keeping fairly decent track of the overall conversation.

He had thought Sunday brunch was a great idea when Jon suggested it during the week. Only remembering half-way through his shift the previous night that he was normally dead asleep during that time on a Sunday. But needs must, and after coffee and food, he was feeling downright perky at having two cute boys in his apartment.

Jon and Martin had settled into the pillow pile to occupy themselves while Gerry wandered off to paint, and they had spent several hours each engaged in their own artistic endeavors, simply enjoying the energy of one another's company.

Jon had started out reading but kept getting distracted by the way the light in the studio catches in Gerry's dark red hair, tied up in a chaotic messy bun, and had idly been strumming Gerry's old acoustic guitar for a while instead. Martin had been writing in a notebook, tongue often caught between his teeth in contemplation, glasses pushed up onto the top of his hair.

Jon stops playing abruptly and Gerry winces at the discordant note the guitar lets out in protest.

"I think Keats is pretty cool," offers Gerry cheerfully.

"Thank you, Gerard, very helpful," grouses Jon in return, glaring at him. Gerry blows him a kiss and returns to his canvas.

"I don't hate Keats, Martin." Jon's voice is slow and soft in the way that indicates that he's actually trying to be sensitive, "I just think he's overrated. After spending so much time in uni pouring over his boring symbolism, I'm just sick of him."

Jon's English literature degree, which Gerry remembers with some humour does not qualify him for a job at a library, had been a pain to get, and he doesn't always remember that part of his life with any great fondness.

"I know, but-" Martin cuts off abruptly and there's unexpected silence for a moment.

"Gerry, do you have a cat?" Jon's voice is incredulous and somewhat delighted at the new development.

"Yes," Gerry replies, very casually. He looks around to find that the cat has indeed wandered in and is sitting in a shaft of sunlight, black fur shining. "Jon, Martin, meet Saturn. Saturn, this is Jon and Martin."

Saturn blinks at them, before abruptly standing, showing them his butt, and then walking over to twine between Gerry's legs. Gerry deposits his painting supplies nearby and reaches down to scoop Saturn up, before carrying him over to sit with the others.

"He's not always great with new people, but hopefully he'll warm up to you. He can be a great cuddler when he wants to be." Saturn eyes them all speculatively before sitting on his own cushion and curling up in a fluffy ball.

"So he's like the Jon cat?" Martin asks, sneaking out a finger to scratch Saturn's fluffy little ears. He purrs lightly and Gerry grins to see them getting along.

"Well-" Jon splutters indignantly, face warming beneath his tan.

They both laugh and Gerry leans towards Martin to whisper conspiratorially, "He's not even embarrassed about being bad with new people. He's shy that we know how good of a cuddler he is."

Jon presses his lips together with a long-suffering expression, also reaching out a hand to pet the purring feline. Saturn rolls over towards him and gets a belly rub for his efforts.

"There we go," Gerry mutters happily. "All my favorite boys, getting along so well."

There's more sputtering from both Jon and Martin at that, but Gerry only laughs and leans over to kiss the tops of their heads.

***

Jon sighs and rubs the back of his neck, trying to release the burning tension sitting in all the joints of his spine.

It's 1 A.M. and the library is long, long closed, doors locked and lights turned out. He doesn't know how he gets here sometimes. Elias has certainly never overtly demanded he work overtime, and yet Jon always feels the need to push a little harder, do more than anyone would consider even remotely reasonable.

He accepted a while ago, that his irrational drive for perfection in this job stems from his self-doubt and fear of inadequacy.

And yet, that understanding does nothing to get him home at a reasonable hour, even when he remembers the two men who always seem to be around when he needs them.

It's unfathomable to Jon how he managed to find himself in a relationship with not one but two incredibly understanding and supportive men who love him. He considers it a downright miracle that they also seemed to be finding their way towards loving one another. Although, who wouldn't love Martin and Gerry?

He checks his watch again. Martin is definitely asleep, and even just stumbling in to lie in bed with him would disturb him. He knows the sweet man would say he doesn't mind, but he feels like if he can't get back at a reasonable hour, he doesn't deserve to sleep next to him at all.

Gerry, on the other hand, is mostly nocturnal. A quick check of his phone shows that it's actually Friday, and he is working at the bar for another hour or so.

While Jon has his phone in his hand, he opens up their text chain.

Gerry: Don't work too late. Martin and I want you functional so that we can drag you out to that street market this weekend.

Jon: I won't.

Gerry: Yes, you will. But try to keep it pre-midnight ;)

'He's awake,' Jon tells himself firmly. 'He'll be happy to see you, even if you did work even later than he predicted.'

So Jon packs up his stuff and leaves the library. He considers a cab, but it's only a few blocks and he thinks the fresh air and exercise will unlock the tension in his poor abused spine.

He arrives at the bar just before closing. Gerry is busy charming a few drunk regulars out the door with promises of undying love and that the bar will be back tomorrow afternoon. After they stumble off, he turns to find Jon walking slowly towards him. Gerry is wearing combat boots, dark jeans, and a loose leather tank top, over a lace undershirt. He has his favorite hoop in his nose, and the light glints off the many piercings in his ears.

"Why, Gerry Delano, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." Gerry grins at Jon's teasing tone and echoed words, no sign of recrimination about him.

"I always am." Jon reaches Gerry at that, and they draw together, pressing tired lips against each other gently.

Gerry's hair has faded out a bit from the moody red, and Jon slips his hands into his hair to hold him close for a moment longer. They rock together on the street for a long, frozen moment.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Gerry asks, pulling away and sliding his hands down Jon's arms to connect their fingers.

"I missed you," Jon confesses shakily, emotion spilling out of his voice.

"Good, I missed you too." Gerry drags him into the bar and fills the air with stories from his shift while he and his colleagues clean for the evening, closing up the bar.

They walk home arm in arm, Gerry flirting with him mercilessly. Jon sheds the day's tension as they go, and by the time they arrive at Gerry's loft, he's warm and relaxed.

He supposes he should probably go back to his own flat, but it's not a place he spends the night very often anymore, and he fears the creeping insomnia that will take him without Martin and Gerry around to soothe him into sleep. Besides, Gerry is right here with him, and he seems so pleased to have him around.

"Are you going to paint now?" Jon asks as they shed their work clothes. Jon is sorry to see the lace shirt go, but Gerry makes up for it by simply throwing a kimono over his bare chest. He throws him a T-shirt, so Jon wears that and his boxers as they settle on the couch. Gerry is still wearing his jeans, but both their feet are bare as they tangle on the coffee table.

"I'm not sure, do you want to?" Gerry asks as he lights a cigarette and offers Jon one.

"What? Do I want to paint?" Jon's voice is taken aback. He takes the cigarette and lights it.

Gerry shrugs as if it's obvious. "Sure, you used to draw with me when we were younger."

"Yes, but…"

"But what, Jonathon? You're too old to paint now? Too proper and straight-laced to get charcoal under your nails? No more piercings, no more creativity?" Gerry sways into his shoulder, drawing smoke into his lungs and letting it out as he speaks.

"No, it's not that." Jon grouses back. Gerry hums derisively in return. "I just don't see the point of wasting your drawing paper when you can do that." Jon gestures wildly towards Gerry's most recently completed painting.

Gerry eyes it critically. It's the commission that he's been slogging over petulantly. It's large and impressively done, he can accept that, but he doesn't like it very much. He hates the subject and composition Peter Lukas has demanded and compensated by pouring all his best technique into it. It makes him sad and sullen to look at, and Gerry will be relieved when it's finally gone.

"For every painting like that I've ever done, Jon," Gerry spills all his affection into the name, and Jon can feel it, "I've done a thousand ridiculous sketches and colour studies. Art is time, and diligence and joy as much as it ever is masterpieces. You don't sit down one day and magically just know how to be a maestro."

Jon looks over and up at him with big green eyes. Gerry can't help but lean over and slide his hand into Jon's hair, pressing their lips together for a moment. "So Mr. Sims. Can I tempt you to make some art with me?"

***

What they create in those soft early morning hours can only generously be called art, even Gerry's efforts. But they laugh and kiss and somehow get covered in charcoal and acrylic paint. Gerry even allows Jon to choose the Spotify playlist. Slow piano music with nature sounds play softly in the background of their impromptu art party, reminding Gerry of nothing so much as Jon himself.

The dawn is just breaking through Gerry's massive bank of windows when he allows Jon to drag him off to bed, and they collapse together in the soft morning light.

***

Late the next morning, Martin lets himself into the flat and bounces down onto the bed between them, sending Saturn flying off in a huff.

"So, I heard there was a slumber party. I brought breakfast."

"Fuck off," Gerry slurs, but rather undermines his own point when he pulls Martin down and tucks himself around him. Jon does the same from the other side, and Martin finds himself in the middle of a very sleepy man sandwich.

Gerry seems to instantly fall back asleep, but Jon eventually drags himself to consciousness, even buried in Martin's neck. "What's time?"

"Almost ten," he responds, very cheerfully.

"WHAT-" Jon flies out of bed in a blind panic, desperately looking for his phone, which is dead when he finds it anyway. "I'm already so fucking late!"

Gerry groans.

"Relax Jon." Martin tries to soothe him but is hindered by the fact that Gerry is still clinging to him in a very enjoyable way. "Gerry, love, let me go. Jon is having a meltdown."

"How unusual," Gerry mutters very unsupportively, Jon manages to notice. He flops over onto his other side and attempts to bury himself in pillows instead of Martin.

"Jon, breathe." Swinging up to sit on the edge of the bed, Martin uses his best man-disaster steadying tone. Gerry has come to realize what that tone is, but he doesn't mention it to anyone. "It's Saturday."

Jon slumps and drops the pants he was desperately trying to wrangle himself into.

"It's Saturday?" He asks.

"It's Saturday," Gerry confirms from the pillow fort.

Jon glares at Martin in a very put upon way. Martin smiles at him brightly.

He turns and wanders off to the bathroom in an effort to collect himself. Martin resumes his spot in the middle of the bed, and drags Gerry towards him, tucking himself into his back.

"Hmmm. So much noise on a weekend." The goth mutters as he attempts to resettle himself in Martin's arms.

"I'll make it up to you later," Martin promises, pressing a kiss behind his ear.

"You let that happen on purpose, didn't you." It's not a question. "Just to see that look on his face."

"Yes," Martin says, chuckling into Gerry's pillow.

"Very good, sir."

[batfam-rewrites]

Batfam During Quarantine: Avatar

Dick: Okay, lets try to keep the craziness to a minimum. Harper and Cullen are quarantining for two weeks so lets not do anything to make them jealous.

Duke: *Duke and Tim walk into the room* Omg, We just finished watching Avatar The Last Airbender for like the fifth time right now! I LOVE THIS SHOW SO MUCH!!! WHY DID THEY EVER TAKE IT OFF OF NETFLIX!!!

Dick: Guys, come on. I literally just said to keep the craziness to a minimum.

Tim: They have Netflix set up on their tv. They should be fine.

Damian: What is Avatar The Last Airbender

Everyone: *gasp*

Selina: Some....

Jason: Sh ta ta ta ta. *presses his finger to Selina’s lips* Don’t speak, I know just what you’re sayin’, so please stop explainin’.

Selina: Really Jason? How long have you been waiting to use that one?

Jason: *breaks into a dance* All night long, all night.

Stephanie: What is going on with you Jason? 

Tim: I know right? You don’t ever listen to Lionel Richie, let alone pop music.

Jason: It’s his fault! *points at Dick* Him and his stupid playlist!

Dick: “Don’t Speak” isn’t on my playlist though.

Jason: I ummmm...... radio.

Dick: *gasp* You listen to No Doubt!

Jason: No! Maybe!

Dick: O-M-G!

Jason: They’re a guilty pleasure! Now don’t mention it again.

Cassandra: Guys!!! What is The Last Airbender?

Duke: *starts to explain but Dick holds him back*

Jason: *to Damian and Cassandra* You poor depraved children.

Damian: I’m not a child.

Jason: Hahaha, your cute. Avatar The Last Airbender is the beautiful brain child of Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko. It is a fantastic series that can not be summarized by anyone or even a movie. Anyone who tries instantly robs the person of the magic of the original series and ruins the exper.....

Damian: You know what, screw it. This isn’t worth it.

Dick: NOOOO! Come on Dami, we can watch it all together, just the nine of us.

Duke: Yeah, come on Damian.

Stephanie: It’s a really great series Dami.

Cassandra: I mean I’m interested.

Tim: *turns his head towards Cassandra* We already knew you were on board. *turns his head back to Damian*

Damian: Fine, I’ll give your stupid show a chance.

Everyone: Yaaayyyyy!!!! *they all start to head down stairs when Dick gets an alert on his phone*

Dick: Actually, this is going to need to wait. Cass and Tim, come with me. I’ll alert Babs and Kate.

Jason: Why, what’s up?

Dick: There’s been a murder at Blackgate.

Batman, Batwoman, Batgirl, Red Robin, Orphan, and Commissioner Gordon

Jim: Batman and, wow there are a lot of you!

Batman: We want to try and get this over with as soon as possible.  

Jim: Very well. Victim is Julian Gregory Day, better known as Calendar Man. The body was found at 10:15. He left his cell at 10 to meet with the D.A. to talk about getting a reduced sentence. Both of the prison guards who were escorting Julian Day were knocked out during the attack. All of the camera’s were out, too.

Batwoman: The marks on his neck suggest that he was strangled and can’t quite tell but there’s something under his fingernails. He couldn’t have saw this coming but he definitely tried to put up a fight.

Batman: Okay, Batgirl and Orphan, lets have you head to the morgue with the diener and see if they could find out what’s under his finger nails. Batwoman, question Hugo Strange. Go through the audio files and see what you can find. Red Robin, you and I will see what any of the inmates in the cell block know. Jim, order your men to check the other camera monitors for anything suspicious.

Jim: I’m not one of your......

Batman: *glares at Jim Gordon*

Jim: I could figure out your identity any time I want. 

Batman: *smirks* Is that a promise?

Jim: It’s a door I’m willing to keep closed unless you cross the line.

Batwoman

Something she didn’t mention at the crime scene was that there was traces of reddish brown hair, so that points fingers at James Gordon Jr, Clock King, Edward Nigma, and Roxanne Sutton. Kate has her suspicions, but as of right now everyone is a suspect.

Hugo Strange: Hello Batwoman. How may I assist you?

Batwoman: I need to know about a few of your patients.

Hugo Strange: You know I can not tell you much I am.....

Batwoman: I am familiar with the confidentiality agreement. I need to know about Julian Day.

Hugo Strange: Poor guy. It’s a shame what happened to him. His most recent audio files are all yours. You’ll find the information you need in there.

Batwoman walked out of the room and began listening to the files in the secret Batcave in Blackgate.

Batgirl and Orphan

Batgirl: *walks into the door* Ugh, what is that smell?

Orphan: Rotting goat sex.

Batgirl: *burst out laughing* What?

Orphan: Rotting goat sex. 

Batgirl: What made you say that?

Orphan: Red Hood told me that’s the name of the yellow squares you put on sandwiches. The ones that go bad over time and smell like this room.

Batgirl: Okay, don’t listen to Red Hood anymore. It’s called cheese Orphan.

Orphan: Cheese. Okay. Got it.

Batgirl: So, how are you enjoying quarantine in the mansion.

Orphan: It’s not bad. Been sparring a lot. 

Batgirl: Who exactly? You’re not hurting my boyfriend right?

Orphan: Nope, but I kicked Helena’s butt a few times.

Batgirl: WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY!!!

Coroner: *walks out* Hey, so the.... Sorry, am I interrupting something.

Batgirl: No. Tell us about the body.

Coroner: Okay so prior to his death it seems the victim was drugged with a depressant. Obviously slowing his reactions. Underneath his fingernails are threads from the string that was used strangle him and some dead skin cells.

Batgirl: There’s not a lot of options for strings except for shoelaces, and unless someone has a very old shoelace, that means the string had to have come from outside the prison.

Coroner: Correct, the threads are definitely not made from the same material as the shoelaces.

Orphan: Anything else.

Coroner: Yes, there was some short white hairs found on his body which is odd, but probably from facial hair or eyebrows.

Batgirl: Thanks! Let us know when you have an idea who those skin cells belong to. *both Barbara and Cassandra start walking away* Tell Red Robin what we found out.

Orphan: But we’re supposed to report to Batman.

Batgirl: Fuck Batman.

Selina, Bruce, Lucius, and Alfred

At Wayne Tower

Bruce: *starring at his computer screen* If I buy this company, then I can buy a donut, and the cosmic donut will make me live forever, plus more profits, because three coffees plus one donut equals one Tim. *Lucius Fox knocks on the door* Do you want to build a snowman?!

Lucius: Mister Wayne, we need to talk.

Bruce: What is it Lucius?

Alfred: You’re overworking yourself.

Bruce: *looks up from his computer* Dad, I mean Alfred, Selina, what are you doing here?

Selina: No simple way to say it but this is an intervention.

Bruce: I don’t need an intervention.

Selina: Bruce, it’s been a bit over two months since quarantine began. You’re company is doing just fine. Don’t you think you deserve a break?

Bruce: With a little less help from Red Tim, I need to work as much as possible to get the cosmic coffee back on track. The hacker a few weeks back did a bit of damage.

Alfred: Master Bruce, even the Batman needs a break from time to time. Isn’t that the real reason you have Master Dick running around in the Batsuit instead of you?

Bruce: No! *Bruce takes a moment to think it all over* Partially.

Lucius: You are putting to much pressure on yourself. You keep on talking nonsense and are obviously sleep deprived.

Bruce: No! I’ve haven’t put enough pressure on myself since I became Batman. Once Batman came into the picture I didn’t focus on the company any longer. And I’m not sleep deprived, I’ve slept 4 hours last night! I’m getting more than enough sleep.

Lucius: You had more of an impact on the company then you think. If it weren’t for you acting as a real CEO, we wouldn’t be doing a going green initiative, there wouldn’t be a yearly fund going out to local orphanages, you created a functioning way for employees to work from home while increasing productivity. I can go on for hours about the positive things you have done as Bruce Wayne.

Selina: You have done so much. Come home, sleep. Enjoy time with you’re family.

Bruce: I can’t do that, I can do more. I can help other companies, too.

Alfred: I remember one time, it was when you turned 5, your father was supposed to be at the hospital. However, the day before he had worked all day to make his patients feel better, so he could spend the next day with you. He wouldn’t have missed your birthday even if it would cause the end of the world. Master Thomas knew the importance of taking time off to spend time with his family. It is time that you do the same.

Bruce begins to tear up. He reflects on how often his father worked day and night, but regardless how often he worked, he always had time for him and his mother. He knew his father loved him with all his heart. Then he thought of Alfred. He wasn’t really his father but Bruce always saw him as one after his parents died. Alfred loves him as much as he loves his own family. 

Bruce: *rolls his chair back and walks over to hug Alfred* Thank you Alfred.

Alfred: Anytime sir.

Batman, Batwoman, Batgirl, Red Robin, and Orphan

*In the Blackgate Batcave*

Batman: What did we find?

Orphan: The threads under Julian’s finger nails came from a string outside of the prison meaning that it could be one of the employees who’ve killed him. Skin cells under his nails are being scanned now, and white hairs were found on his body. Also cheese is not called goat sex.

Red Robin: WHAT! *Dick and Tim start laughing hysterically* 

Batman: Why would you think that!

Batgirl: Jason told her. That’s beside the point though.

Red Robin: *whispers to Dick* What did you do?

Batman: *whispers to Tim* I don’t know.

Batgirl: Stop whispering, we can all see you!

Batman: Got it. Kate what did you find?

Batwoman: Day was in an extreme state of paranoia before he died. Talks about how he was going to tell the D.A. about corruption in Blackgate.

Batman: Interesting, did he say anyone’s name?

Batwoman: It’s not clear, but I would assume so.

Batman: That makes sense. When Red Robin and I interviewed his cellmate, Drury Walker, he said he was starting to suspect something was going to happen. He had suspicions that James Jr. was going to kill him.

Batwoman: If I had to assume, I would say the same. I noticed a large sum of reddish brown hair at the scene where the body was found.

Batgirl: There was white hair found on the body though. With Day being strangled the killer would be close enough to possibly have a few hairs fall onto his body.

Batman: Do you have a sample?

Batgirl: Obviously.

Batman: Okay, I’ll program the computer to scan it. I know it’s not ideal but we’ll find out in twelve hours. Tim, Cass, and Kate, go update Commissioner Gordon. Babs, do you mind if we talk for a moment.

Batgirl: Sure, if you feel like doing so now.

Batman: *takes off the cowl and mask* What’s wrong? 

Batgirl: How could you not tell me Helena was staying at the mansion!

Batman: I didn’t want you to overreact.

Batgirl: How could I not! One of your ex girlfriends is sleeping under the same roof you are!

Batman: Look, this conversation is a bit more complicated than I anticipated so we’ll talk more about it later.

Batgirl: You know what, do yourself one better and just don’t talk to me at all. *Barbara places her mask back on as she storms out*

Red Robin: *sneaks out from behind a door* I swear I totally wasn’t eavesdropping, but that sounded like it could have gone better.

Batman: Yeah, it could have. *Dick than walks out pulling the cowl over his head and placing his mask back on*

Batman and Batwoman

Batman: *knocks on the door*

Hugo Strange: Hello Batman, Batwoman! How may I assist you?

Batman: We have some more questions to ask you.

Hugo Strange: Please, come inside!

Batman: How has James Jr. been doing in his sessions?

Hugo Strange: He has been doing very well! Obviously he had to spend a small period in solitary for killing his cellmates but he is getting better. If he is a prime suspect you may look into his files.

Batwoman: When did you two last meet?

Hugo Strange: Yesterday.

Batman: When did you two conspire the death of Julian Day?

Hugo Strange: I’m sorry, what are you talking about?

Batwoman: *grabs Hugo Strange by the shirt and lifts him* DON’T PLAY GAMES WITH US STRANGE! ANSWER THE QUESTION!

Hugo Strange: I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about!

Batman: We saw that you transferred Day to Gordon’s cell! He has killed every cellmate he’s had! You were sentencing him to death!

Batwoman starts to shake Hugo Strange violently until a gun shot is heard from across the room. 

Batgirl, Red Robin, and Orphan

James Jr.: Hey Batgirl! I see you’re walking again, isn’t that such a neat surprise.

Red Robin: Shut up, James!

Batgirl: James, we want to know what happened?

James Jr.: ..........

Batgirl: Answer my question asshat!

James Jr.: Whoa little sis... I want to stay I was told to shut up!

Batgirl: Do you realize what’s happening?

James Jr.: I’m being interrogated.

Batgirl: You’re going to be transferred to Arkham. If you confess your time there could be reduced! 

James Jr.: Fine... I confess...... I cut open your teddy bear and filled it with razor blades when we were kids.

Batgirl flips the table and pins James to the wall, punching him in the head multiple times. Orphan then runs in, trying to help Red Robin to get Batgirl to stop punching James Jr.

Batgirl: Rot in fucking Arkham for all I care! You should have been sent there to begin with!

Batgirl, Red Robin, and Orphan begin to walk out the door before James Jr. lying on the floor yells.

James Jr.: WAIT! It wasn’t me, I promise!

Batgirl: Doubtful.

James Jr.: Red Robin, come on. I know you’re going to give me a chance. Hear me out.

Red Robin: Batgirl, let’s give him.....

Batgirl: NO! HE HAD HIS CHANCE! HE DECIDED TO WASTE IT!

Orphan: Batgirl. Please.

Batgirl: *stops in the hallway* Fine.

A few minutes later Red Robin is in the interrogation room with James Jr. with Orphan.

Red Robin: James Jr. Did you kill Julian Day?

James Jr.: No.

Off in the distance they all hear the gunshot from Hugo Strange’s office.

James Jr.: And there’s my proof.

Batman, Batwoman, Batgirl, Red Robin, and Orphan

Red lines flow down Hugo Strange’s face as blood pours from the hole in his forehead. Batman and Batwoman turn around to see who fired the shot, and are shocked to see Eduardo Flamingo. Batwoman drops the dead body of Hugo Strange as Flamingo fires three shots at both Batman and Batwoman. Both are unfazed by this and punch him in the face, causing him to fall back on the floor.

Batman: *picks up Flamingo* Who hired you?

Eduardo Flamingo: *cough* You just watched him die.

The GCPD arrives to the room and arrest Flamingo.

Commissioner Gordon: Freeze! You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.

He had confessed to everything. The murders, the contract Hugo Strange offered him to kill Day. No details was left out. By the time they all left the prison it was 12:30 in the morning.

Batman: Batgirl, let’s talk. 

Batgirl: I don’t want to talk.

Batman: Babs, if you won’t talk, then listen, please? *tears start to fill his eyes and make their way down his mask*

Batgirl: If anything, you listen to me *tears streak down her mask as well* I don’t know where I stand in this situation, and right now I really don’t care! For the time being don’t talk to me. *she takes out her grappling hook and leaves the four other members just standing there*

Batwoman: I’m not going to get too involved in this, but you know if you need to talk Dick, let me know.

Batman: Thank you.

The two hug and then go their separate ways.

Dick and Barbara

When they got home, Dick reached for his phone and started to text Barbara. He tried to explain how he never knew Helena was going to show up. How she showed up out of nowhere. How she is his everything, his world, and he doesn’t blame her for being skeptical but he still loves her. 

Barbara doesn’t want to read a word of Dick’s excuses. This has happened before when Dick was dating Koriand’r and Zatanna. Even before they were in a relationship, she knew he at one point was seeing multiple girls at a time. She doesn’t know if he is really sleeping with Helena behind her back, but she knows that she can’t trust Dick for the time being.

After his shower he walked to his room where he saw Helena laying on his bed in her costume. She then tosses his Nightwing costume at him.

Helena: Hey Dick, how about you throw that on and we do a bit of role play.

Dick: Cool, I’m into that. I’ll be Nightwing, the guy who loves Batgirl so much, and you’ll be Huntress, who sleeps on the first floor. You’re going to leave my room and I’ll lock my door for the rest of the night.

Helena: Rough night, lover?

Dick: I told you to stop calling me that.

Helena: I know, but I love it.

Dick: Helena, please just leave.

Dick just lied on his bed staring at his phone, wishing that Barbara would text him back. Fifteen minutes later he hears a knock at his door.

Bruce: Hey Dick! Are you okay?

Dick: What is this? Am I dreaming?

Bruce: No. I heard what happened. Just know if you ever want to talk about it, you can come to me. 

Dick: Thanks Bruce!

Bruce: Want to watch Avatar as a family? Damian told me how you talked him into watching it. I think it’s a fun idea!

Dick: *smirks* Sure!

They both walk downstairs to the media room as they see everyone down there already. He noticed Helena was sitting at the far end of the room so Dick considered sitting by Tim and Stephanie who seemed to have been chatting it up, but decided against it and sat near Damian. 

Dick: *leans over towards Damian*

Damian: Don’t you even think about it Grayson!

Dick: *wraps his arms around Damian* Come on, you know you love my hugs!

Damian: I will cut off your arms in your sleep,

Dick: You’re so adorable when you think you’re threatening.

The episode begins to play and everyone fell silent. As the second one ended everyone looked at Cassandra and Damian to get their reaction.

Cassandra: That was awesome!!! Let’s watch one more!

Damian: It is surprisingly entertaining. A little silly but intriguing.

Jason: WE KNEW YOU WOULD LIKE IT SUCKER!

Tim: One of the greatest shows ever!

[rosy-cheekx]

"Don’t do that. don’t shut me out” and / or “We can talk through the door” - from the trauma sentence starters :)

Okay so this started as a one-off but, as usual, it spiraled outwards! The actual line will be in the next chapter. (That’s right, this bitch has two chapters! AND A PERSPECTIVE SHIFT)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28201191/chapters/69105681

-

It had been hard for Martin to adjust, after the Lonely, after the months of spiraling into the quiet, cold dark, imprisoned in an ever-expanding labyrinth of his own isolation. A therapist he had years ago told him it takes three weeks to manifest a habit, and in the months without his mum, without Jon, Sasha, Tim, god without even Elias to irritate his last fraying nerve, he had time to form hundreds of new habits, his habits of loneliness.

When Peter had given him Elias’ old office, under the guise of space, focus, and mental health (Martin could spit at that looking back, the cruel irony), the room had been rearranged. The desk, which had previously sat in the center of the room, with two slightly uncomfortable chairs positioned in front of it, chairs Martin had been eager to burn in celebration of his new space, had been rearranged. The room was starkly empty, the chairs removed on his behalf, and the desk had been moved to the side of the room, out of view of the door and in fact behind the hinges, so the door swung open in front of his desk, blocking anyone who may sneak a peek in his office a view of him at work. After a while, it was natural to be in the corner of a room closest to the hinges; where the coatrack or a rubbish bin would typically be, there instead was Martin Blackwood, comfortable, solitary. Alone.

The habits expanded outside of the office. Soon enough he was shopping at markets in the quietest hours: during the airings of football matches, at the early-morning markets, at two in the morning because he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t get warm under his duvet. His warm conversations with cashiers and barkers turned to solemn nods and gruff thank-yous, the refreshing smiles they associated with the sweater-clad figure reduced to slow blinks and nods of acknowledgement, and then not even that. They didn’t even wonder what had happened to that nice auburn-haired man who worked “down the street at the old spooky building, did-you-hear-about-those-worms?” Even takeout was too much to bear. The nights where leaving his flat was unconscionable, his delivery requests would always add, “leave outside the flat, tip is under the doormat.”

His neighbors didn’t remember him after a while. Mabel, the kind woman who lived across from him, introduced herself to him, asked when he moved in. Eventually she stopped noticing this new auburn man she hadn’t seen before. Hadn’t seen at all, actually. No one lived across the hall from her, not in her memory. And she had an excellent memory, didn’t-you-know? It was all those crosswords.

Martin started locking his doors. That had been after Jon had returned. He knew that distinctly. Most of these habits loomed over his life slowly, like an ever-expanding fog, until he didn’t realize where they had begun, but the doors? That was a choice.

He wasn’t one for locks overall; his childhood home had forbidden them, save for the exterior doors. It hadn’t bothered him back then, though, and as he grew up and out of the shadow of his mother it never occurred to him that he could just shut people out like that. So easy, so simple, but so unnecessary for so long. Martin was the one breaking down those barriers, especially at the Institute. Getting Sasha to talk about her anger when they first moved into the Archives, her quiet confession that she had wanted that job for so long, had been told by Gertrude she was a promising candidate. That had been fixed with a cup of tea and the promise that he would support her if she wanted to quit, but that it seemed like Tim needed her, Jon too. Getting Tim to open up about Danny, his sorrow that had been simmering so long under the surface, a grief Martin didn’t quite know how to fathom. But he tried, with comforting touches and warm voice, trying to ease Tim back from the precipice over which he had been hovering. Not enough. Never enough. Even Jon had begun to be kinder to him, after Prentiss, after Martin had proven he wasn’t a waste of space in the Archives, begun to be honest and open about his take on the weird things they experienced here. He had even texted him rather frequently, towards the end, updating him on his trip to America and of the occasional sights that caught his eye (‘In Pittsburgh they put chips on sandwiches and salads, Martin, look at this! Image_0102 attached’ Even in text, his grammar was impeccable.) But after Jon recovered from his coma, lapse with death, whatever it had been, Martin had been too far gone. He couldn’t risk Jon bursting in, bothering him, worrying and fussing. So he’d called in a locksmith to install the simple bolt, enough to stop a distracted, harried Archivist (who had never quite learned it was polite to knock) from bursting into his office at all hours.

But after all that, after the Lonely and Peter Lukas and “look at me and tell me what you see,” it was hard to break the achingly comfortable habits. For the first few days in Scotland, Martin didn’t really remember what had happened. While out of the domain itself, he was still trapped in its cloying embrace, and everything felt too real, too looming, too much; it had been easy to slip into silence for hours in Daisy’s safehouse. Too easy to pull the fog around him and watch himself sit, drawn up behind the door, as he watched and listened and waited for Jon to forget about him. It had never happened though. No matter how many hiding places he found, cold and dark and solitary, Jon always found him, blanket and tea in tow (always a little too sweet for Martin’s liking), and his scalding embrace was enough to drag him back to reality, shivering and sweating, whispering apologies.

-

They needed supplies. Daisy had left behind plenty of MREs in her pantry, stuff they could theoretically rely on, but it was all very basic nutritionary needs and both Martin and Jon were vegetarians, (more or less, Martin had stopped eating red meat as a teenager and Jon entirely after working in the Archives) and the dehydrated pasta alfredo was gone, seemingly the only vegetarian item in Daisy’s stock. Martin hadn’t even tried to touch the canned fruit, the orange-yellow of the peaches haunting him.

Martin suspected it was also a desperate attempt for the pair to practice feeling normal again. To be just two friends? Companions? Coworkers? Boyfriends? people stocking up their fridge and going on with a normal, non-horror filled life. A secluded, bare safehouse was certainly not helping them adjust any quicker, though neither man had dared leave quite yet, be it the risk of losing what little security they had accrued here or the inability to leave the other alone quite yet.

“Is-Do you know if it’s busy today?” Martin had asked, trying desperately to shape his voice into calm curiosity.

Jon considered the question for a minute, expression soft, and dear lord Martin wasn’t sure he would ever get used to the way Jon’s shadows seemed to darken and solidify when he Learned, his whole form shifting in and out of focus imperceptibly like the background was blending into him and not the other way round, the way Martin was accustomed.

“Mm, not bad. No one interesting. A couple families shopping for the week, twelve customers, four employees, total-oh, fourteen, mum and son just walked in…” Martin’s eyebrow was raised. “Ah,” Jon cleared his throat. “Sorry. Fourteen people. If that’s too many, I can go by myself, you know. I’m not going to force you.”

“N-no, no. I should go. Exposure therapy, right?”

Jon had smiled warmly and tentatively rested a hand on Martin’s shoulder, before sliding the hand, scarred and calloused, to squeeze Martin’s own cold one.

-

The grocery was small, a locally run place playing tinny jazz through the speakers. As Martin stepped through the doors with Jon, he was struck by how warm it was in the store. He could feel the prickle of anxiety burning under his skin, bringing a flush to his cheeks. He could hear the whine of the electric lights piercing his skull and settling behind his eyes. He gripped the trolley’s handle tight, firmly keeping his eyes forward. He was fine, he could do this.

Martin was not fine. They had worked their way through the aisles quickly, Jon using his Knowledge to figure out where every item they needed had been located. Martin was on autopilot, quietly steering the cart and flinching when anyone came to close to him. The heat of life was radiating off everyone in the store, even Jon, and it was scalding, blinding, debilitating. He hadn’t noticed Jon asking him a question until, Jon carefully, gingerly, brought his hand to hover near Martin’s cheek, not touching, just waiting for a response.

“Martin?” he heard distantly, calling him back to reality, where fog didn’t drift over the aisles and the soft rush of waves didn’t echo in his ears.

“-mm?” The hand was gone, his skin tingled with the rush of cold returning to his face. He wished it would come back, to hold his face and promise it would be alright.

“I was wondering what tea you wanted to buy? I’m no expert and I know you have your preferences. I miss-” Jon cleared his throat. “I’ve missed your tea in the Archives. All the staff drank coffee after you left. Disgusting.”

Tea. This was something Martin could do. He took a step away from the trolley, his life raft, and studied the aisles, trying to will his mind to focus.

Tea, tea, tea. Rooibos and chamomile for sleepless nights. Herbal for variety. Jon likes caffeinated teas. Maybe some chai? That’ll be good when it gets really cold…god how long will we be here? Through winter? Forever? He could stay here forever if it meant Jon was there too.

He grabbed a couple of boxes of familiar brands, throwing them in the trolley, as well as whatever felt familiar, what he’d usually pick up.  

“I thought you didn’t like oolong.”

Martin frowned, glancing down at the box in his hand. “I don’t. Uh, force of habit I guess.” He set the box back quickly, as if it was burning his hand. “M’mum liked it so I would pick it up for her. Guess its been a while…” he trailed off, uncertain of what he was about to say. He’s bought tea since she died, hasn’t he?

He thinks back, through all his months in Elias’s office and at home.

Oh. Guess not.

Had he really not drunk tea at all? God, he had really changed more than he thought under the influence of Peter. Tea had been such a staple of his life, his personality, he was the one dragging Jon and Sasha and Tim to teahouses for his birthday and insisting he make a cuppa for everyone on the days that felt too dark. The last time he could remember holding a warm cup of tea in his hands was when he was sitting at Jon’s bedside in the hospital, reading him Keats in the desperate hope he would hate it so much he would wake up, even if just to scold his assistant.

Martin knew serving The Lonely had changed him. But here, in the aisle of a Scottish grocery, he was realizing how entirely debased he had become. Was he even Martin Blackwood anymore?

Martin blinked to see the grocery around him cloaked in fog. No, that wasn’t right. He was cloaked in fog. The world was a pale blue-grayscale, slightly translucent. He hadn’t been here in a while but the cool balm over his anxiety settled like cool cloth and he felt distantly quiet. Calm.  He left the store in a haze and began the slow trudge up to the safehouse. Jon wasn’t here in this place, which was probably for the best. Martin couldn’t hurt him here, couldn’t burden him with whatever pesky emotions he had felt in the grocery, whatever they had been. They were a distant memory now, oolong and guilt.

-

By the time Martin had hiked up the hill to the safehouse, he felt safe enough to leave the Lonely, and felt the cool numbness drift off him like steam as the world sharpened around him. With the world came the sharp sting of his realization came with it; the understanding that he wasn’t the same person he had been when he had said goodbye to Tim, Melanie, and Jon, and certainly not the same person he had been when he had backed through the doors to the Institute and let that dog in, what felt like decades ago now.

Martin Blackwood let the door swing shut behind him as he made his way inside, hearing the rumble of Jon’s car rolling up the gravel driveway. He moved quickly through the house, looking desperately for a place to escape as he heard the faint call of his name outside. He couldn’t-he just couldn’t talk to Jon right now; he didn’t know how to explain how betrayed he felt and by on fault but his own. The closest room was the bathroom, dark and clean, and pressed back against the door as he clicked the door shut, turning the latch on the door.

Click.

The bolt slid into the mechanism of the door frame, and that sound was what sent Martin spiraling.

he was alone he was alone he was alone.

[wthcew]

The Soulmates Who Aren't Soulmates

Chapter 11

_____________________________________________

Hey everyone, I'm sorry for the slow update just school is back and I'm trying to balance between school to writing and because now there's a lot holidays I'll have more time to write, hope you all good!

_____________________________________________

Five years ago, in another universe:

Jason smiled at Dick, they were face to face and between them there was Tim, still sleeping peacefully, one hand holding Dick's shirt tightly, the other hand under his check (it was a habit that he had from his childhood, he likes the feeling of the blood rushing to his hand when he wakes up and Dick think that the hand shaped mark on Tim's check in the morning is onr of the cutest things about his soulmate) and his legs are combined with Jason's.

"He's so cute when he sleeps" Dick whispered, moving his hand a bit to move away a stray strand of hair, Jason nodded in agreement, his fingers moving in soothing circles on his soulmate's arm.

Bit by bit the sleep took over him and forced Jason to close his eyes, he went to sleep warm and safe and smiling. He may have gave Tim a drugged coffe so the boy will fall asleep and there might be a little pouting from the small one in the morning but they will deal with it in the morning.

_____________________________________________

The sun light kissed the tip of his head, his black hair binds the sunlight which makes his hair shine a little in red-black colour.

He is too comfortable to move, two bodies hugging him from each side and a big blanket throw on him, the sun warming him and it was just too comfortable.

But then again, Tim didn't remember when he fell asleep. Or going to bed. Or even going home.

The last thing he remembered was being in the cave, drinking coffee that Jason offered him...

"You drugged me, didn't you?" His voice cut the silence but his eyes reminded closed.

A kiss to his neck and one arm tightness around him, as his lovers weren't going to let him up (And they really weren't, it's rare to have baby bird with them in the late hours of the morning, even though they are soulmates)

"It was four a.m baby" Jason whispered in his neck, kissing him softly. And then he could feel Dick slowly kissing his forehead, down to his nose and then his lips.

"Yeah Tin, we need to take care of our soulmate, and you just look so cute when you're sleeping" Dick said from his neck, his hot breath tickling Tim's skin.

"I had work to do" he said and melted in their hands, making his soulmates smile and hug him tigher.

"You always have work to do" Dick said and layed his head against Tim's shoulder, closing his eyes. "Oh no, don't go back to sleep, I'm going to make food" Jason said and rolled out of the bed.

"And undrugged coffee?" Tim asked and was answered with a quite laugh from Dick.

"I need a shower" Tim said after couple of peaceful silence between the two of them and Dick moved so now he's laying on his boy, "No. You need to stay here with me"

"You need a shower too, you smell like trash"

"Wow Timmy that's exactly what I want my soulmate to tell me"

"Then I shall do it all the time"

"Ha ha"

...

"What if we will shower together?"

"Now you're talking"

_____________________________________________

Four years ago, in another universe:

The seller smiled as she handed him the brown paper bag and the reception "Good luck sweetie" she aaid with cheerful voice that made Tim feel even more happy "Thanks" he said, his smile not leaving his face.

So Tam may kill him because he didn't went to work but he doesn't care, this time he had a better excuse than Jason and Dick kidnapping him.

His smile was still there as he drove home, it was the perfect time to do it, Dick was at work and Jason was with Roy somewhere, probably shooting something.

It usually took soulmates less time to think about it but the three of them had too much on their heads so when Tim was so sure about it that it almost hurt he started to plan.

It wasn't something big, he bought tickets for the new movie that Dick told him about and how much he wanted to see it, he booked a place at this restaurant that Jason loves so much and now that he got the rings, it's just matter of time, he just need to hide the rings until the date will come and hope for the best.

He put the rings in his clothes drawer, under all of his jeans, knowing that they would never look there.

_____________________________________________

When the date finally came most of Tim's plan was thrown to the fucking trash because some super creep old man known as Ra's al Ghul couldn't delay there attack. So now red robin was fighting ninjas while thinking about a backup plan and why the hell didn't he thought about one in the beginning-

"Red, you good?" Nightwing asked over the comms, "Yup, how are you and hood?"

"Getting tired of Ra's" made red huff a small laugh as he moved his stuff to knock out two ninjas with one hit.

_____________________________________________

"Hey so I think that we will maybe make it to the restaurant" Res said, his cowl replaced by domino mask and hjs smile oh so bright looking at his soulmates, hood laugh was muffled by his helmet and nightwing just smiled back and bended to kiss the smaller vigilant.

Tim pulled awat first and turned around fast, both his hands pulling the other two with him around the corner and

"Holly shit"

A dark room was open, and one of the biggest bombs that red had ever saw was there, counting down two minutes.

"I can hack it" He declared and looked at his soulmates, "Trust me, you need to go out I'll be right behind you" A small smile "I love you" and without waiting for an answer he turned around and walked to the bomb.

_____________________________________________

They didn't went to the restaurant. They didn't went home. They didn't went to sleep. All they could do was to look, to dig, to try not to let their feelings show, to try not to cry, but after two days when they found the hand.. Everything fall apart.

When they finally got home the anger that was tingled with sadness took control on Jason and he ripped out Tim's clothing drower. Everything in there was spilled on the floor and his breath hitched when he saw the two small rings boxes.

_____________________________________________

"Who are you?" The young man asked, his eyes wide open, trying to understand.

"I'm your soulmate, don't you remember?"

"I don't remember who I am, sorry"

"That's fine, I can help you with that, Your name is Timothy Jackson Drake, and you are my soulmate"

"Sorry but I don't know what your name is"

"My name is Ra's al Ghul"

[iamtheotherdarkknight]

Make Right (BruDick RP)

In Response to “It’s Killing Him” 

@notyouraveragedickgrayson

If Bruce had to choose a moment when things really started to fall apart, he’d say was the day he pulled Jason’s still, broken body from the rubble of that abandoned warehouse. That surreal, numbness lifting as Bruce peeled away Jason’s mask to see his face for the last time.

That’s when the pain really hit him.

It was just like watching his mother and father bleed out in an alley - except it hurt so much worse. Maybe it was because parents aren’t supposed to outlive their children… And blood or no blood, Jason was his first child.

Watching strangers lower his boy – his son – into the ground that day is what finally broke him. By the end of the funeral service, it was just him and Alfred. Like it’s always been. And perhaps that has been Bruce’s mistake – maybe this is the way things were supposed to be. Maybe this cruel act was the universe’s way of reminding him of his place. It didn’t matter how long he trained, how much he learned or how many resources he devoted to his mission, he had to walk this path in solitude. ‘… or else…’

That night, Bruce stopped fighting the darkness - the Batman consumed him.

The carnage that followed Jason’s death couldn’t be called justice. Just needless bloodshed that falling short of killing. Violence that knew no shame. Batman wanted the Joker and he didn’t care what he had to do to get him. Batman had to make him hurt the way Bruce hurt. Torture him the way he tortured Jason. And the darkness only crept in further the longer Joker hid. There was nothing left to separate Bruce from the Bat anymore, no anchor. Just all-encompassing rage and an empty pain he prayed never went away. He needed that ache more than he needed food or air; it was the only thing getting him out of bed anymore.

Bruce couldn’t blame Dick for staying away. He deserved better than an emotionally crippled, hypocrite. How could he dare hold Dick accountable for his actions towards Zucco? Bruce knew full well what would happen when he finally found Joker. Arkham wasn’t enough. Blackgate wasn’t enough. Bruce knew that, and still couldn’t stop himself. That was until a young Timothy Jackson Drake appeared at his door, venti Americano in one hand and a tablet with a litany of evidence of Bruce’s double life in the other. More than that, the kid deduced Dick and Jason’s identities as Robins.

It was strange. All the information the young man had amassed over what had to be years – the eerily familiar singlemindedness Tim displayed in his pursuit. And all he wanted to do with it was convince Dick to become Robin again. “Because Gotham needs Batman. And Batman needs Robin.” The words rolled off the boys’ lips like an obvious truth he repeated one to many times. Like all whole world’s issues were nothing more than an uncomplicated problem to be solved over a cup of coffee and a few strokes of the keys.

A petty part of Bruce expected Tim to fall apart after failing to reunite the ‘Dynamic Duo’, Nightwing making it clear that he could never take the Robin mantle again. Imagine the Wayne’s rare look of shock when Tim came down the stairs of the cave, fully fitted in an altered Robin’s uniform. And when Bruce tried to protest, Tim simply shrugged it off and told him it was Nightwing who suggested he take the uniform. Tim would just have to do until Bruce found an adequate replacement… And if he resisted Tim’s help, he’d blow Bruce’s cover right out of the water.

It’s been years since that fateful day. Bruce would have loved to say that in that, he’s gotten better over time. That he had found a way to overcome the wounded savagery that overwhelmed him. That he didn’t slip back into those dark moods and was learning to be whole after having his heart picked apart, racked with guilt, shame and fear he concealed in anger. But that would be a blatant lie and nights like this he just didn’t care enough to keep up the front.

Tonight’s patrol had been taxing for the Bats.

The night ended early with the successful sabotage of Black Mask’s weapon shipment, but the win didn’t come without a fight. Batman had no idea where Sionis found the revenue to hire the mercs he had, but there was no way the people he and Robin encountered on that freight were anything ex-military. If it weren’t for his own decades of experience and Red Robin’s help tonight, the mission would have failed.

Damien left the fight with a concussion, Bruce ordering the boy go upstairs and rest. Tim, per usual, proved more resistant to his first dismissal, but his cracked ribs and broken arm and leg won out in the end. Between that and the three days Tim spent without sleep, operating the Bat near impossible. Not at Bruce was fairing much better. By the time they returned to the cave, the man sported several burns, bruises, and gashes from the explosion. The only way Alfred could get Bruce that stay still long enough to clean and dress the wounds when Bruce was sitting at the computer, typing up the reports for tonight. That was when Bruce saw the comm flash on his screen. The call came from Dick’s encrypted number.

… But he could feel ice in his veins when he heard the voice on the call.

“It’s me.”

And Bruce knew that voice anywhere.

It was a sad fact, but because couldn’t bring himself to open-up to Tim or Damien the way he had with Jason. Bruce had let his guard down with the young man and let himself be a father to him – something he could never bare to be to Dick. He could never presume to fill the void John Grayson left in Dick’s heart when he passed. Seeing Jason grow as an individual and Robin, principled and proud in the face of adversity. It always filled Bruce with pride… Perhaps that’s why seeing Red Hood stand over a fresh corpse, baring the face long dead son left him numb. Seeing that viciousness in Jason, felt like a cruel sick joke. Bruce’s only solace in Jason death was knowing the boy he cared for so much left this world with cleaner hands then him. But seeing Jason returned from the dead to become what felt like a reflection of Bruce’s darkest hours.

I was like he failed to save him all over again.

“Where is he?” Bruce demanded, his voice low and fierce. The logical part of his brain knew better than to think Jason would hurt Dick. In fact, the only person Red Hood hadn’t reconciled with was Batman. But Bruce didn’t always think rationally when it can to his first ward. Jason knew that better than anyone….

“With me and doesn’t wanna talk.” He clarified, adjust his hold Dick’s shaking form. “I’m calling a truce, old man. Let us in.” There was the briefest pause before Bruce overrode the security protocols and allow Jason to enter the cave. Bruce didn’t know could have happen to have Jason, of all people, to knock on his door and call for a truce, but he would be prepared it all the same. In the five minutes in took Jason to traverse the tunnels to central area, Bruce had covered his injuries and erased at trace of weakness. Not that it mattered once Jason ascended the steps to his platform.

Bruce’s stoic façade fell apart the minute his eyes came upon a harrowed Dick, bundled up in Jason’s arms. It’d been months since the he last saw his former ward – the two of them not necessarily on speaking terms. In fact, he and Dick had been on the outs ever since Bruce budded in a case in in Blüdhaven, stating under no uncertain terms what he thought of his ‘partner’, Catalina Flores. The actively avoided one another ever since.

Before Bruce could demand an explanation, Jason locked his green-blue eyes with his silently warning. It was always amazing how the two of them could communicate with out uttering a single word. It was part of the reason they worked so well together. So, when Jason eyes narrowed and gestured past Bruce, the man stepped aside and waited for him on the other side of the room. Once Jason was finished propping Dick in the same chair Bruce had occupied before their arrival. Despite Jason’s best effort, Dick still slumped over the edge like a ragdoll. And he was coming apart at the seams. It’s all Bruce can do, his brain running through every possible scenario, trying to deduce a reason for Dick’s state. Jason could come to him soon enough.

“He a panic attack.” Jason finally explained, his pulling a cigarette out of his pocket, but not reaching for his zippo yet. A nervous tick, just wanting something to chew on while he organized his thoughts.

“…What triggered it?” His mentor asked cautiously, trying to understand. His former ward had attack in the past. Bruce would care for Dick through the worse of them in the beginning, whenever the boy would have a nightmare or close call. But this was the first he’s ever seen the Dick since he became an adult. He was practically catatonic.

“You.” Jason spat out, as if to apply it was obvious. “Like it or not, all of this,” Jason gestured toward Dick. “Is on you.”

Without give Bruce an inch, Jason unloaded, recounting all that Dick confided in him. The young man’s mental health was in shambles and Bruce, whether he realized it or not, had only made it worse pushing Dick away. Especially when Bruce fired Dick. The older man had to admit, he was blinded with anger the night he fired Dick and all but kicked him out of the manor. Anger, and if he were being totally honest, fear. Fear of the unknown as Dick grew into the man, he was becoming, fear for the way he was started to see Dick. Because in all the years he raised Dick, he couldn’t see him as a son. And that terrified him to the core. Bruce had only realized the terrible mistake he made when the heard the Dick pulling out of the driveway for the last time.

And then Jason and the bomb happened…

“Pull your head out of your ass, old man. Your hot-and-cold attitude might work for the ladies, but that man behind me, feels fucked up enough about wanting you without your mile-thick wall of bullshit. And I know you heard me. Now, something has to change because I am not kidding around when I say that this situation, this denial, whatever ego or pride is in the way of you two... its killing him”.

Bruce was at a loss. Looking at Dick again, he felt a surge guilt run through him. Was it his fault that Dick developed this infatuation with him? Did he somehow poison the younger man’s mind and manipulated him -

“Stop, I know what you’re thinking old man. Stop making this about you and just make this right. If either of you were as sick as you think, you won’t be so scared of this.” Jason hissed, making his way to the stairs from where he came. “He’s in your care. Make it right, Bruce.” Jason repeated, warning the older man.

Bruce waited until he couldn’t hear Jason’s footsteps, steeling himself before approaching Dick for the first time in so long. He looked so out of it. Depressed and tired and just… gone. Bruce would have given anything wrap his arm around him like he had back when his thoughts towards Dick were innocent. But right now, it wasn’t about what Bruce wanted. It was about what Dick needed.  So he knelt down on the ground before Dick so they were at eye level. Dicks eyes were downcast, but Bruce didn’t make a thing of it. Just spoke in the clearest voice he could manage, hoping that Dick would respond to him.

“Dick. Can you hear me? Do you know where you are?”

[alecthedevil]

Handcuffs (Bat family x reader)

Pairing: Bat family x reader (Platonic obviously)

Word Count:1688

No specific pronouns used. All inclusive reader!

Warnings: Like one swear word.

...

99% of the time, at least one resident of Wayne Manor was causing trouble. Even Dick and Jason, who hadn’t lived with Bruce for a long while, were known to be problematic in their visits to the Manor.

Last month, Tim not only managed to trip down the stairs, he did so whilst sleepwalking with a plate of pancakes in his hand. The incident arose many questions. How did he fall down the stairs? Why isn’t his neck broken? Tim sleepwalks? Didn’t I tell you to keep an eye on him? Where did he get the pancakes from? Wait did Alfred make Pancakes?

Two weeks ago, Jason and Dick put aside their differences decided to hum the mission impossible theme on their top-secret mission to infiltrate the villains lair and save the damsel in distress. The villain being Bruce, the lair aka the Batcave, and the damsel being their confiscated phones due to their previous night’s hijacking of the bat mobile. Jason tripped Dick, Dick fell down and bumped into the table, the coffee was spilt onto the floor, Bruce, otherwise unaware of their antics rushed in at the sound and slipped on the coffee, Jason laughed so hard he backed into one of the display cabinets, knocking it over, it fell down and narrowly missed Titus, Titus sprang up and barked so much that Tim wandered down stairs to find his brother’s and father in a heap on the floor, their mission thoroughly failed.

On Monday Damian thought not to tell the household that his latest pet was a python certainly not native to Gotham, let alone America, and did not think he should perhaps tell anyone that it was not in the glass tank he’d acquired to care for it. Alfred received a shock when he opened a cabinet in the kitchen to retrieve a dish, only to find a sleeping snake curled up.

Yes, it was safe to say that the Wayne residence was full of drama and mischief.

Today, the problem was you.

It wasn’t your fault. Not really. I mean, it’s not like anyone told you not to touch the stuff on the table in the cave. Nobody warned you that it wasn’t a good idea to mess around with some of the new gadgets Bruce was working on.

Ok so maybe Bruce had said something along the lines of;

“blah blah blah, don’t go into the bat cave without permission, more words, more talking, don’t touch anything, he’s still talking, the things down there are NOT for fun, they’re for work, something something, do you understand me?”

And yeah, you understood him. But like, he said not to go down there and touch stuff. So that’s why you did the opposite and did everything he said not to do. But c’mon. Isn’t it really obvious that you were going to do It anyway? It’s not like it resulted in too big of a problem.

“Uh, Bruce?” “No.” “But I-” “No.” “I really think you should-” “I’m working.” “Okay… but it’s just that,” “Y/n, I’m busy.” “... Bruceeeeeeeeeeeeee” “You can see I’m working.” “I know, but…” “… but what.” “No, it’s fine. You’re working, I don’t want to bother you.” “What did you want?” “Tell me that you’ll always love me no matter what.” “What did you do?” “Tell me.”

“I’ll always love you no matter what. Now what did you do?”

“I can’t get them off...”

You messed around with the prototype batcuffs Alfred and Bruce had been experimenting with. Bruce wanted to make them unescapable after the last time the Riddler managed to unlock them. The idea was for them to be Unescapable for the wearer, but not for the captor. Unfortunately they were in fact, unescapable for even Gotham’s Dark Knight.

Luckily for you, you had the smartest people in Gotham at your side, ready to tackle the issue.

Alfred and Bruce poured over the plans for the cuffs, certain that they could kill two birds with one stone by simply fixing the cuffs so that they were the real thing instead of broken prototypes, and therefore it could really be a valuable use of time.

Dick tried dish soap. It worked, he proclaimed, for rings stuck on peoples fingers, and it’s kind of the same thing really, when you think about it.

Tim pulled together an elaborate plan composed of several complex elements including but not limited to; the batmobile, rope and chain, an antique radio, several straws, the dish soap from earlier, a turkey sandwich, parts he’d need to unscrew from the garage door, a thorn from a rose between the colours of bashful blush and Scarlett Dream, two spoons, a canary and most importantly; something to burn metal with. He wanted a flame thrower, but on such short notice, promised that he could work with a blow torch if need be.

Safe to say Tim was put on bed rest until further notice.

Damian, grandson of the demon, son of Batman and Tahlia Al Ghul, Robin and well-trained fighter and weapons expert all round proposed an idea so practical, it was unclear why no one had thought of it before.

“Tch. I Don’t see why we don’t leave them to rot in them. It would serve them right. I wouldn’t be as stupid to lock myself in handcuffs.”

You’d responded with a glare and a “I won’t hesitate Bitch”, much to Dick’s delight.

Sometime later it became apparent that nobody had an idea and it was basically a good opportunity for an argument to occur between the members of your family, bar Alfred of course. (Alfred would never partake in such an opportunity.)

Bruce was hunched over his work bench, looking tired and frustrated. Alfred had prepared several cups of tea and strong coffee, most of which had remained untouched as Bruce tried to understand where the hand cuffs had gone wrong.

Dick had become very flustered, flitting around nervously, and wringing his hands like a worried mother. “Oh, my poor baby!” he cried, when you complained that your wrists were sore, throwing his arms around you. The hug was suffocating, but you were pretty sure he needed the comfort more than you did.

Tim escaped his bedroom and was sitting on the floor with one of the cups of coffee not meant for him, looking at the wall blankly. There was no further update for him, as he had not made any movement since sitting down.

Damian had left some time ago with Titus. As he was not allowed to pester Tim or you anymore, he’d declared that he was not going to waste his time on such a silly issue anymore and disappeared into the training room for practice.

And as for you. Well, you’re wrists were aching, your head hurt, and you were beginning to worry about how you were ever going to eat dinner if you couldn’t separate your hands enough to grab utensils. It was a very distressing thought, so you escaped upstairs just as Bruce yelled at Dick to sit down and for Tim to go to bed.

It was only when you went upstairs that you heard the loud music blasting from somewhere in the house. And judging by the fact that your brothers, Bruce and Alfred were downstairs, it could only mean one thing;

Jason was home.

You wandered into the workshop, an attachment for the garage that nobody seemed to ever go into except Jason. It housed all the power tools and handy man equipment that anyone could ever desire, despite the fact no one in the house ever used it. You weren’t allowed in there, usually due to your habit of touching things that were potentially dangerous. But Jason was a rebel, and he liked woodwork, and fixing things, so it became his designated zone in the house.

The music was louder in here, and Jason was banging his head along to a rock song currently playing.

“Hey Kid!” he called over the music when he saw you, adding a drum roll on the table for good measure.

“Why’s the music so loud?” You ask.

He walked to the stereo and turned it down slightly. “You losers were shouting in the cave when I got here and it was doing my head in. Anyway, what’s up?”

You hold your hands up so he can see the problem, and he observes with a frown.

“Didn’t know you were into that.” He comments casually, dodging a kick from you. “How’d you do that anyway?”

“I went and messed around with the stuff in the cave after I was told not to. Bruce can’t get them off.” You supply, and he scoffs

“Of course, B can’t.” He mutters. With a single movement; he grabs you by the waist and lifts you onto his work bench. He picks up your hands and examines the cuffs closely, turning them this way and that to get a good look. Humming along to the song, he searches through a few drill bits in the draw and finds one that looks like it’d fit into the lock on the cuffs. Without a word he sets to work, occasionally moving, or covering your hand his own as to not hurt them whilst he drills. Five minutes and one set of unescapable cuffs later, you’re free, and Jason’s packing away his drill and tools.

You’re rubbing your wrists gratefully when a thought occurs to you. “How’d you know it’d work?”

Jason grins. “He locked one of my hands to a radiator with the old ones a little while back. I drilled into that one and it worked, figured it’d work for this one since he still doesn’t know how I did it.”

You both wander down the hall, and your family is still fighting by the sounds coming from downstairs.

You both pause at the exposed stairwell that usually is hidden from sight.

“What do you say that we leave them there to fight for a bit and go get ice-cream?” Jason proposes quietly from behind you.

“I’d say that’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

[thebluenebula]

So I totally intended to finish up week 1 before anything else but I'm totally struggling with the last day so here's this. It's set maybe three-ish months after Ashleigh arrived. Enjoy :)

Masterlist

Week 1

WonderBats

"Hey Bruce?" Tim said, as he entered the living room. Bruce was sitting on a  nearby armchair reading a book. Out of the corner of his eye he also spotted Dick and Jay, sitting on the couch watching TV.

Bruce looked up from his book. "What's up Tim?"

"I was wondering can Cassie come over on Saturday?"

Bruce looked at him curiously. "You've never asked before, usually I just come home and the house is filled with children I don't think are mine."

"Well I didn't want to just bring people over in case... I don't know, it bothered Ashleigh or anything."

"That's very... considerate of you." Bruce eyed him suspiciously. "Where's my real child?"

"I'm not the Demon Spawn, Bruce. I consider how others may be affected by my decisions."

"Hey!" Damien shouted from a nearby room. Jay chuckled.

Bruce sighed. "I can't see why Cassie can't come over."

Dick turned away from the TV. "What about Donna? I've been meaning to catch up for ages." He nudged Jay. "And they could bring Artemis."

"I'll talk to Diana and see if we can do a get together." Bruce said.

"Yes!" The boys cheered.

"You should still run it by Ashleigh." Tim suggested. "Just in case."

"She'll be totally okay with it." Bruce insisted.

"You should check just in case." Dick agreed.

"I'll ask her," Bruce gave in. "But I'm telling you it's unnecessary."

"Doesn't hurt ask."

Bruce sighed and jumped up from his seat, and headed upstairs to my room.

I looked up from my phone at the sound of a knock at my door. "Hey Ashleigh." Bruce greeted me as he entered.

"Hiya Bruce."

"Some friends of ours might be coming over one of the days."

"Okay?" I looked at him quizzingly.

"The boys just wanted for me to make sure you were okay with it before we invited them over."

"Why?"

"Well they know your not comfortable around groups of strangers."

"Yeah but that shouldn't stop them from having friends over."

Bruce smiled. "That's what I told them, but they insisted I run it by you."

"I'm totally okay with it."

"I knew you would be."

"Tell them thanks for the consideration but it's unnecessary."

"Will do." Bruce said as he left.

The boys basically spent the whole week telling me about the Wonders. Before I knew it Saturday was here.

I woke a little before eleven, groggily walked towards the bathroom. I stopped at the top of the staircase as I spotted Bruce, Alfred, and the Wonders standing by the door. I recognised Wonder Woman of course, but i only recognized the other three from the dozens of photos the boys had insisted on showing me.

Wonder Woman, Bruce and Alfred headed for the kitchen, as the three girls started up the stairs. I quickly ducked into the nearest room to avoid them.

"Hello?" Carrie looked confused.

"Hi." I awkwardly smiled.

"You've never bust in unannounced before Ash."

"Yeeeah."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm just... hiding for a second." I admitted.

"From?"

"The Wonderkids."

"They're here?" Carrie looked at her clock, 10:57. "I thought they weren't coming till twelve."

"So did I."

"Why are you hiding from them? I thought you promised Tim you'd at least say hello to Cassie.".

"I did. I will. I just need to..." I rubbed my chin. I could feel my face redden as I felt the stubble. "Clean up."

"Hold on." Carrie stood up, walked over and peeked out the door. "They're gone."

"Thanks Carrie." I walked out the door past her.

"The Wonders won't judge Ash." She comforted me.

I nodded and quickly scuttled away to the bathroom.

After shaving and doing what else I needed to do, my phone buzzed. A message from Tim. "Hey Ashleigh, if you're not busy, Cassie's here. You wanna meet her?"

"Sure Tim. Where are you?" Best just get the whole meeting her thing over with.

"My room."

"Be there in 2 mins."

I popped out of the bathroom and headed to Tim's room. Meeting people was always one of my least favourite thing. Sure I might like them but I never was great at getting to know people. Wouldn't it be wonderful to read minds like that girl Dick talks about. What was her name? Megan? M'gann.

I stopped outside Tim's door, and knocked. "Come in." Tim said.

I opened the door. Steph was leaning against a dresser, while Tim was sitting on the bed beside Cassie.

"Hey." Tim greeted me.

"Hi."

"Ashleigh, this is Cassie." Tim said pointing to the girl who had a beaming smile on her face.

Cassie jumped up. "You're Ashleigh, Tim and your sisters never shut up about you. It's great to finally meet you."

"It's nice to meet you to, Cassie." I smiled at her. She was pretty, and built like a tank.

""And now you're introduced." Steph cheerily commented.

"That they are." Tim agreed. "So now what?"

"I'll... go." I said, heading for the door. I'd promised Tim I'd say hello. I had fulfilled my part of the bargain, time for me to skedaddle.

"What? Why?" Steph asked, blocking the door.

"Well you guys are doing your thing. I don't want to get in the way."

"Hardly Ash." Steph smiled.

"You can stay." Tim said. "If you want."

"Before you answer that." Cassie interrupted. "What is it were doing?"

"I don't know." Tim admitted.

"We thought we'd let you decide Cassie." Steph said gesturing to her.

Cassie thought, and then her face lit up. "I've got to show you what I've done to my village." She reached into her bag and pulled out a Switch. "Ashleigh do you play?"

"Oh yeah." I quickly replied. Thats not entirely true, I had the game. I never played it before though.

"Come on Ashleigh. Let's go grab ours." Steph said. I followed her out to the hall. "I didn't know you played Animal Crossing."

"I don't," I admitted. "But now seems as good a time as any to start."

Steph laughed. "So what do you think of Cassie?"

"She seems... excited."

"She's always like that." Steph explained. "She was extra excited though to meet you."

"Why?" I asked as we stopped outside my room.

"I guess curiosity. We talk about you from time to time in the Watchtower. I'll be back in a second," Steph said ending the previous topic. "I'll grab my Switch."

Steph ran off as I went in to my room and fished out my Switch. It's not something I used to often, sometimes I played Pokémon, but not much else. I grabbed Animal Crossing off  the shelf and walked back out into the hallway.

"Heya Ashleigh." Tim said. He and Cassie were standing just outside my door.

I jumped slightly. "Hi. You startled me." I admitted. "I was coming back."

"We know." Cassie said.

"We figured we'd head downstairs and wanted to grab you and Steph." Tim explained. "Where is she?"

"Here." Steph came running down the hall holding her Switch.

We headed downstairs to the living room. Dick and Donna were sitting on the couch, Babs sat in her wheelchair beside them.

"Hey you guys." Babs said as she spotted us enter.

"Heya Babs." Cassie excitedly said.

"Hey Cassie." Dick smiled at her. "I see you met Ashleigh."

"So your Ashleigh." Donna said. "Dick told me so much about you. All good things. Even Damien says nice things about you."

Cassie gasped. "Only ever heard him compliment Dick, and Rachel before."

"So what brings you guys down here?" Dick asked.

"Just going to lie up and play Animal Crossing." Steph said, holding up her Switch.

Steph and Tim snuggled up to each other on one of the armchairs, while Cassie sat in beside Donna. I took a seat nearby on another armchair. I'd played the old Animal Crossing game and warmed up to this one pretty quickly.

After a while of playing and bantering, I kept silent for most of it but it still felt nice to be around the chatter, Carrie and Harper came into the living room. "What's going on in here?" Harper asked.

"It's called social interaction. You two should try it sometime." Steph remarked.

"Sounds overrated." Carrie replied walking behind the seat I was in. She leaned over my shoulder. "Whatcha playing?"

"Animal Crossing."

"Nice island."

"It's Cassie's." I pointed over to Cassie, who was now lying in Donna's lap. She flashed a smile at me.

"So you did say hello." Carrie whispered. "Good job."

I smiled at her. "Thanks."

"Carrie, come on." Harper said as she headed for the door.

"Nice seeing you two again." Carrie said.

"Later nerds." Harper shouted as she left.

We went back to our banter. A little while later I looked up from my Switch and Cassie caught my eye. She appeared to be staring behind me. I turned around but couldn't see anything out of place. When I turned back Cassie was looking back at her Switch. 

I yawned. "Not get enough sleep?" Dick asked.

"Something like that."

"Grab some coffee." Tim suggested.

"You and coffee." Cassie sighed, sitting up from Donna's lap.

"There's healthier alternatives to coffee." Dick commented.

"Don't talk to me about healthy," Tim stated. "I've read the ingredients on your cereal boxes."

"Your cereals are basically pure sugar." Donna agreed.

I stood up and left to get coffee while they were distracted arguing over healthy food. "Where are you off to?" Cassie asked from behind me in the hall.

"I need some coffee."

"Mind if I join you?"

"Uhh... sure"

"So Tim's got you hooked on coffee?" She asked as we took off towards the kitchen.

"I was addicted to coffee long before I came here." I explained.

We walked into the kitchen. Alfred, and Bruce sat at the table talking to Wonder Woman. I immediately stepped back behind Cassie who gave me a curious look.

"Hello children." Wonder Woman said.

"Diana. This is Ashleigh." Bruce said pointing to me. Diana, right, I should probably refer to her as that.

I stood out from behind Cassie. "Hi."

"Hello Ashleigh. It's nice to meet you."

"You to."

"So what brings you two to the kitchen?" Alfred asked.

"Coffee." Cassie quickly replied.

"I'll boil the kettle." Alfred stated turning to the counter.

"Come. Sit." Bruce gestured to the table. I took a seat beside Bruce, while Cassie sat beside Diana.

"So Ashleigh, how are you finding living with Bruce?" Diana asked.

"Its... good."

"Bruce is kind hearted." She stated. "He's a good parent."

"He is." I agreed, smiling at Bruce. He smiled back.

"Your coffee is ready Miss's." Alfred interrupted.

We stood up and grabbed out coffee, and I quickly headed for the exit, in hopes of avoiding any further social interaction.

"What was that about?" Cassie asked, following behind me.

"What was what?"

"That." She gestured back to the kitchen door. "First you hid behind me and then you basically ran out the door."

My face reddened. "I can be a tad... socially awkward at times."

"You were fine with me, and even Donna, but when it came to Diana you basically went into a shell. Wh-" It was clear that Cassie had just figure at the reason. She smirked. "It's because she's Wonder Woman."

"Yes it's because she's Wonder Woman." I stated. "I literally just met one of my childhood heroes, of course I'm going to be a tad awkward."

"Diana's just like anyone else." Cassie assured me.

I took a deep breath. "Im not involved too much in the whole hero thing. Sometimes it just skips my brain but then a sudden reminder will hit me and... and..." I took a deep breath. "I don't know where I was going with that."

"No. Go on finish." Cassie insisted.

"It's alright. Just forget it."

"Alright." Cassie said. "Let's get back to the others."

"Ashleigh. Cassie." Jay said as he appeared from a room, followed by Artemis. "Do you know where Diana is?"

"Kitchen." We said.

"Thanks." Jay headed for the kitchen.

Artemis grabbed his hood and dragged him back. "Introductions." She said.

"Artemis, this is Ashleigh. Ashleigh, this is Artemis. Done. Can I go now?"

Artemis sighed and let go of his hood. "Go."

"Thanks." He shouted as he ran off to the kitchen.

"What was that about?" Cassie asked.

"Don't worry about." Artemis said. Then she turned to me. "Nice to meet you Ashleigh."

"It's nice to... meet you to." I said, still a little confused over what had just happened.

"Perhaps we can talk more at a later date but right now I need to make sure Jay doesn't make an ass of himself, or more importantly me." Artemis said as she turned and headed for the kitchen. "Goodbye."

"See yah." Cassie said. "Now shall we get back to others?"

"Yeah." We headed towards the living room. "That was strange, even for Jay."

Cassie giggled. "That's a high bar."

We rejoined the others, who by now had stopped arguing. "Where'd you two go?" Dick asked.

"Coffee." We said in unison, holding up our mugs.

Tim smirked at Dick. "Told you."

"May I make a suggestion?" Donna asked, as we sat down.

"You may." Babs said.

"How about a game of soccer?"

"I'm down." Dick agreed.

"I can ref." Babs said.

"We're in." Tim and Steph agreed.

"Me to." Cassie agreed.

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Let's grab Jay and Artemis." Dick suggested.

"I'll grab them." Tim said, running off.

"I'll come to." Cassie said, running after him.

I followed the rest of them out the back, I began to feel more and more nervous. Sure I know how to play soccer but knowing me I'd somehow make an ass of myself. I could feel that weird feeling in my stomach. I was at the back of the pack, no-one would ever notice if I disappeared. As everyone walked out the back door, I turned and walked back towards the house.

"Ashleigh," Steph said. "Where are you off to?"

"Just going to use the bathroom." I lied. "I'll be back in a couple minutes."

I ran off and headed up the stairs. "Ashleigh." Jay shouted up after me. I turned. Jay, Tim, Artemis, and Cassie were looking up at me. "You not coming out to play some soccer?"

"No thanks, I'm just going to... Go up here."

"Okay sure." Jay gave me a puzzled look but the four headed outside.

I continued up to my room and locked the door behind me. I sat on the bed and took a deep breath. "Fuck." I muttered to myself. About ten minutes later I glanced put the window. Bruce and Diana had joined the kids outside and they appeared to be picking teams.

A knock at the door drew my attention back to the room. "Yeah?"

"Ashleigh, it's Steph."

I hopped up and unlocked the door. "What's up?"

"Are you not coming out to play soccer?"

"Yeah no. Sorry."

"No need to be," She said. "But you can just say so next time instead of just disappearing. It reminds me of Bruce."

I laughed. "Is that a bad thing?"

"It's not a good thing." She joked. "You coming outside to watch at least. You don't have to play."

"Sure." I smiled and followed Steph back down the stairs. I had manage to get my head together a little bit."So you came in just to find me?"

"That and," Steph held up a notepad. "Cassie wanted a pen and paper."

"Why?" I asked curiously.

"She didn't say."

I took a seat on the garden wall by Babs as Steph joined the on going game of soccer. Babs was the ref, it only took her about five minutes before she sent Jay and Artemis off for rough housing.

The game finished up with both teamed tied and all players exhausted.

"As nice as it been Bruce," Diana said. "We must be going."

"Of course Diana." Bruce said. "I'll show you out."

"It was nice meeting you Ashleigh." Diana said as they walked past me.

I smiled at her. "Yeah, it was nice meeting all of you.

As Cassie walked past me she handed me a piece of paper. "What's this?"

"My number, and socials and stuff, so we can keep in touch. If you want to." She said.

"Of course." I quickly replied.

"Goodbye Ashleigh." Cassie smiled and walked away.

"Goodbye Cassie." I watched as she disappeared into the house.

I watched as the door shut behind them. "Well Ash, you and Cassie seem to have gotten on well." Babs commented.

"Yeah we did."

"I'm glad." She said placing a hand on my shoulder.

I unfolded the sheet. On it was a phone number and Pixtagram account, along with Cassie's signature and a little smiley face.

[the-shadow-of-atlantis]

Truth in Blood (Pt 8)

Summary: Annabella finishes her goodbyes, Faith belongs to @melyaliz

Tagging: @thespacebuns @melyaliz @coffee-randomness @speedypan

Read Earlier Parts Here

The sun was starting to set by the time Annabella arrived at the manor. She paused a few yards from the gate, her nerves starting to come undone. What should she do? Where should she start? Should she pack first then confront her father? Or father then pack? Taking a deep breath Annabella sighed, she needed to do this, slowly she edged the car forward until the gate opened.

The first place Annabella decided to go was the cave, given how it was getting close to night time no doubt everyone was suiting up. Sure enough as she came down the steps she could hear Tim and Faith doing some warm up fights while Barbara and Dick studied a map on the computer along with her dad who was already in his batsuit. Faith stopped swing and completely missed Tim as she looked up and spotted Annabella. Within seconds Annabella was pulled into a bear hug and she hugged her cousin back.

“You're back.” Faith breathed holding Annabella closer as if that were possible.

“Yeah.” Annabella said though as happy as she was to see her cousin she hated what was going to come next. “I need to talk to dad, alone.”

Every one turned to look at Bruce who was expressionless behind the cowl, he simply nodded and everyone filed out. Dick and Barbara both paused to pat Annabella on the shoulder though she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe they knew something about what her father did. Though everyone was out of the cave Annabella had a feeling they’d more than liking would be listening in.

“Can you at least take the cowl off?” Annabella asked crossing her arms and glaring at her father.

Slowly Bruce reached up and pulled the cowl back. Annabella nodded trying to keep herself together.

“You want to know what's the worst part of all of this?” Annabella asked, opting to look around the cave. “I grew up watching you lie to everyone in your life. I grew up watching you sabotage relationships, friendships. All because of this… this life. And for what? For you to be alone? For you to lose everything? I knew what you were capable of… I just never thought you’d do it to me… that I would be the one you would go this far.”

“Annabella.” Bruce whispered his voice gruff.

“Don’t.” Annabella breathed, taking a step back and holding a hand back. “I can’t… I can’t look at you right now. I can't be here… you didn’t just lied to me dad, you messed with my head. Protection or not you went too far, you understand that right?”

Bruce said nothing as he stood there motionless but Annabella could feel the pain, regret, and guilt he felt.

“I’m leaving.” Annabella said before she could stop herself. “I have to go figure all this out, and I can't do that here. Not with you around, not where you can watch me.”

Annabella quickly turned and headed out of the cave. She closed her door and took a deep breath fighting away the tears that threatened to spill. She headed into her closet and began sifting through her clothes. Annabella was halfway through folding them when she heard a knock and her door open. Looking up she saw Faith come in and quietly close the door.

“You’re leaving?” She asked quietly, Annabella sighed her hand resting on the pile she just finished folding.

“I have to Faith.” Annabella whispered afraid to look her cousin in the eyes. “I have to get away from here.”

“Well then come with me and Jen.” Faith offered walking up to Annabella. “We can share my room at her place, it’ll be like having a sleep over every night.”

Annabella couldn’t help but smile as she hugged her cousin back though Faith could see it didn't reach her eyes.

“I can't stay in Gotham Faith.” Annabella explained rubbing her cousins back. “I've got to figure this thing out, and I’m not going to get answers here.”

“Well then ill go with you.” Faith offered instead but Annabella shook her head gently.

“You have school you need to focus on.” Annabella reminded her, making Faiths face wrinkle in disgust. “And you should be here for your sister, you two need each other.”

“Does she know?” Faith asked and Annabella nodded.

“Yeah she knows.” Annabella said, pulling back a bit her eyes focusing on her bed.

She remembered a moment, a day when the world seemed so bleak. Her aunt and uncle's plane went missing. It was weeks before they finally decided to hold a funeral with empty coffins. The three girls had huddled together in Annabella’s room, none of them wanting to let the other go. An understanding seemed to pass through them, they would always be there for each other, Annabella couldn’t help but feel like she was breaking that promise. No, she’d be back, she just needed a break from her father.

“I honestly don't know how long I’ll be gone but I do promise that I will be back.” Annabella said, placing her hands on Faith's shoulders. “I’ll always come back.”

Faith hugged her again snuggling her face into Annabella’s shoulder. Annabella stood there letting Faith take her time.

“You better bring me back something cool.” Was all she said when she pulled away then helped Annabella finish packing.

Annabella hoped she wouldn’t run into anymore family as she came down but of course Alfred was waiting for her with a lunch bag of food. Her steps slowed down as she approached the old man who simply held the bag out for her to take.

“I witnessed your father do a great deal of many things. I wish I didn't just stand by and watch what he did to you. But you must understand he put so much protection on you it was difficult to break.” Alfred explained his hands made sure everything was well in place.

“It's okay Alfred, you’re not the one I’m mad at.” Annabella hugged him tightly.

She had planned to take one of the bikes, but given all the things she had to carry and she wasn't sure how much she would be traveling she settled for one of the more small and inconspicuous cars. The last bag was settled into place when the rest of her family showed up. Stephanie and Cassandra had already been out on patrol when they heard the conversation over the coms, they decided to come back in hopes of catching her before she left. She said her goodbyes hugging each and every one of them before they turned to leave for patrol.

“Keep an eye on Faith for me.” Annabella whispered as she brought Tim in for a tight hug. “Believe it or not she looks up to you.”

“I’ll do my best.” Tim whispered reassuring her.

“You know you could stay with me in Bludhaven.” Dick said as he leaned down to hug her and proceeded to lift her up.

“You know that won’t help.” Annabella said with a sad smile.

“Worth a shot.” Dick sighed as he set her down.

“You got that laptop I gave you.” Was all Barbara asked as she hugged Annabella.

As much as Annabella contemplated having no communication with anyone here in Gotham she had secured the laptop that she no doubt would work very well, no matter where she found herself going. Besides she still had college classes to get done.

“I’ll keep you updated.” Annabella whispered back softly. “Keep everyone safe.”

“I will.” Barbara nodded as she pulled away.

With that Annabella slipped into the car and peeled out of the garage leaving the manor in her past, trying to ignore the tears that threatened to spill.

[violetsmoak]

Pieces of April [15/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Author’s Note: Here's your daily reminder to stay inside, wash your hands and not to hoard toilet paper! As a reward, enjoy another chapter of POA, featuring sass, subtle and not so subtle inklings of romance, and off-screen appearance of another Bat!

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

After two movies and being so distracted that Ives kicks his ass at Mario Kart, Tim returns to his apartment. It’s not very late in vigilante time—two o’clock, as promised—and he’s sort of half expecting Jason to be still awake when he gets back.

The older man is sitting on the couch in the living room, flipping absently through the channels, eye flicking to the baby-monitor beside him every few seconds like he’s prepared to jump into action if he hears a cry.  

“Has she been keeping you up?” Tim asks as he strides over.

Jason blinks blearily at him. “No.”

“Then why don’t you grab some sleep while you can? There’s no point staying up if you don’t have to.”

“First of all—fuck you. Second of all, that’s rich comin' from the family insomniac. And third, I’m havin' trouble shuttin' my brain off, okay? It’s still tryin' to figure out if I didn’t accidentally travel to another alternate reality of something.”

A sharp, distorted cry echoes over the monitor and Jason really does jump.

“Stay put,” Tim tells him, already heading for the stairs. “I’ll get her.”

It’s still surprising when Jason listens to him, which Tim puts down to being in a desperate situation. He hopes that having someone else in the apartment to help with Isa will diminish whatever anxiety has the older man wound so tight.

Once upstairs, Tim slips into the guestroom and scoops her into his arm, wincing at the shrill squealing cry. After a quick check of her diaper—blessedly empty—he carries her still crying form downstairs to prepare a bottle for her.

Jason winces when they appear and—he doesn’t really run away, but he makes a hasty exit over the stairs.

Tim huffs under his breath. “It’s not like she’s a bomb, Jason. Geeze.”

Though she is doing an excellent job imitating a percussion grenade while they wait for the bottle of formula to warm up in the microwave, so maybe there are some similarities.

“It was thirty seconds, not thirty years, calm down,” he grumbles as she latches onto the plastic nipple like a starving animal.

He watches her nurse for a few minutes, brows furrowed and mind on Jason.

I know he’s still adjusting, but at some point, it’s got to start sinking in, right? I mean, he’s not even planning on keeping her, it’s all temporary, so there’s no reason for him to be this out of it.

Unless there’s more going on than just a surprise baby—which, given Jason’s past and present activities, could very well the issue.

I wonder how hard he’d punch me if I suggested he talk to someone about this?

Not Dick, obviously; calling him has always been one of Tim’s major avenues of support when he’s going through hard times, but he knows Jason would rather crawl through broken glass than open up to his predecessor.

Sometimes I think Jason’s relationship with Dick is a hundred times more complicated than it is with anyone else in the family…

Isa gives a dissatisfied whimper and turns her face away from the bottle. Tim frowns, seeing that she’s barely drunk a quarter of it, and tries to tempt her to take another, but she refuses, already going dozy and limp with sleep.

“Really? After all that? You raise holy hell and you don’t even finish it?” He snorts. “You really are his.”

It’s an effort to get the sleepy infant to burp, but he manages it; she passes out before he’s even made it back up the stairs and back to Jason’s room.

Despite having explicit permission to enter without knocking, Tim’s still uneasy broaching Jason’s personal space. Especially since Tim can tell he’s not asleep, even if he’s lying on his bad, holding a pillow over his face like he’s trying to block everything out.

Tim carefully arranges the baby back in her basket-bassinet, and quietly asks Jason, “Need anything else?”

Jason mutters something that sounds suspiciously like "Another life", and turns his back on both Tim and the baby.

And really, what can he even say to that?

It’s a problem for some other time.

Tim takes a quick shower, before faceplanting onto his unmade bed. The exhaustion he’s been ignoring for the past day or so finally hits him, and he passes out without even getting up to turn off the lights.

By some miracle, he gets six hours of uninterrupted sleep before his alarm goes off later that morning. He doesn’t feel fully rested, but he gave up on chasing that sensation two Robins ago.

After dressing and taming his hair (it might be time for a haircut soon), he spends an extra ten minutes checking the bruises on his face—they’ve gone from dark purple to blue—and applying a liberal amount of cover-up. A beat later, he adds a bit of eyeliner as well, to give an appearance of alertness that he doesn’t quite feel.

Heading downstairs his nose twitches as he becomes cognizant of an unfamiliar smell.

Of...someone’s cooking?

He finds Jason in his kitchen, flipping pancakes. The baby carrier is in the middle of the kitchen island, Isa sleeping soundly in a cocoon of blankets.

Instead of asking Jason why he’s cooking, Tim grabs a coffee cup from the cupboard and turns on his Keurig. “How was the first night?”

He doesn’t expect Jason to respond beyond irritated grunting, and so is surprised when he answers.

“Took me an hour to fall asleep,” he says. “Then at four she woke me up…then at six…and then just now. So, I decided, screw it, I’m hungry anyway. And about the only thing you have all the ingredients for are pancakes.” He shoots Tim a judging look. “I don’t even think you have maple syrup. It’s a disgrace.”

“I think there might be corn syrup in the pantry?”

“Disgrace,” Jason repeats.

Tim ignores him and glances at the two dozen pancakes he’s caught sight of behind Jason’s bulk. “Exactly how many people are you feeding?”

Something that might be a blush darkens Jason’s cheeks.

“I may have gotten a little distracted,” he admits defensively. “But I needed something mindless to do and it worked, so just…shut up and eat.”

He shoves a plate with three pancakes at Tim, who doesn’t have the heart to tell Jason he doesn’t really eat breakfast. Instead, he goes looking for the much-maligned corn syrup and takes the smallest pancake he can find in the bunch.

It’s only polite, after all.

Isa starts to whimper again and Jason groans. “There is no way you’re hungry again, I just fed you.”

Instead, he carts her over to the coffee table—the vintage Henredon table Tim actually spent a couple of weeks tracking down because it resembled one his parents had when he was a child—has since yesterday seemingly become the chosen changing station. 

There are piles of fresh diapers and wipes spread out on it, clearly from earlier changes, and there’s a pail next to it, along with the detritus of the packaging it was in.

“That can’t be sanitary,” Tim says. “Or environmentally friendly.”

“Yeah, well, your highness can shell out for cloth diapers and hire a service to clean them if that’s your issue.”

Tim rolls his eyes but wisely doesn’t reply to that, instead busying himself with finishing off the giant pancake and a much-needed cup of coffee.

“Ugh,” he hears Jason say after a while. “Are we sure this is a human child? Because what’s coming out of her doesn’t look human.”

Tim chokes on a large lump of pancake and glares across the room. “Yes, thanks for that while I’m eating.”

“As if your stomach hasn’t been tested by many a murder scene.”

“Never while I was eating,” Tim grumbles and pushes his plate away. He hunts down a travel mug for his second much-needed cup of coffee and then grabs his messenger bag from the hook on the door.

He’s halfway headed for the garage when he pauses and considers Jason again.

“Do you need me to stay?” he asks. “I mean, it’s the first day you’re doing this, so—”

“I don’t need you holding my hand, Drake,” Jason deadpans, “especially since you’re not going to be here during the day anyway. No point in getting used to a crutch.”

Tim isn’t sure he likes that comparison.

“You sure?”

“I figured out how to defuse bombs, I can figure this out.”

“Okay…but Safiya did give you her number, right? You know there’s no shame in calling her if you’re stuck.” That earns him a withering glare. “Just saying.” He offers Jason a mock-salute. “Enjoy learning how to baby.”

“Fuck you.”

“Language!”

“She’s two days old, she doesn’t know what the hell I’m sayin’.”

“A-plus childcare, Mary Poppins,” Tim mutters—under his breath because he doesn’t actually want to be punched this early in the morning—and finally leaves.

Once at the office, he falls into his usual routine—perfunctory greetings to people he should only know by sight but for whom he has done extensive background checks, sitting in a board meeting and chewing out the legal team for not filing their water-filter patent faster (he may have brushed it off to spare people the wrath of Damian, but he fully understands the kid’s anger), a stop at the break-room for a third cup of coffee and to keep an ear out for the office gossip.

Tam is waiting in his office when he finally settles in for the rest of the morning.

“How’s everything going at home?” she asks, closing the door behind her. She hands him his schedule for the day and a checklist of phone calls to return and products that require oversight.

“As well as can be expected,” he replies, sipping his coffee. “It’s an adjustment.”

“No kidding. You go from single, introvert shut-in bachelor to living with Dream Daddy overnight.”

Tim promptly inhales and then spits out very hot coffee, only narrowly missing a stack of contracts that need reviewing.

Tam’s eyes flick to the mess. “I’m not cleaning that up.”

“Why would you say that?” he splutters as his brain frantically tries to reboot after the shock.

“Because it’s not my job to clean up after the functional man-child that is my boss?”

“Not that.” He glares. “Filling my brain with disturbing notions.”

“Is the disturbing notion that I said it, or that you know what Dream Daddy is?”

“The disturbing thing is that you think my—” He pauses, hesitant to use the word ‘brother’ in relation to Jason, if only because it feels wrong for some inexplicable reason. ‘Friend’ is also a gross over-estimation of their relationship. “—new roommate is attractive.”

“Well, some of us have eyes,” Tam shrugs.

“And some of us have criteria for what we find attractive beyond looks.”

“Right. Forgot. You like the dangerous types that try to kill you first and ask questions later.”

Tim opens his mouth to object, and then tilts his head to one side to acknowledge it: given his recent dating history, she’s not wrong. “You forget that type tends to be female. As in something my new roommate most definitely is not.”

“Puh-lease, I’ve seen you when you’re hanging out with Connor. You can’t tell me that’s a hundred percent platonic.”

“It is!”

“If you say so,” Tam replies. “But you forget—I’ve kissed you. And I’ve never felt less spark or even interest in a guy before.”

“Because I was surprised,” Tim grouses. “That doesn’t mean I don’t like women. You’ve met Stephanie.”

“Yeah, but she told me she hit you in the face with a brick the first time you two met.”

“I regret ever introducing you to each other,” Tim groans, pressing his face into his hands. “Look, you’re the one who decided us dating would be a bad idea, so don’t go taking that as evidence that I’m gay.”

“First of all, our dating would be a bad idea, and not even just because of the inevitable involvement of ninjas or Vicki Vale’s byline. I’ve already explained why—which you agreed with at the time. And second of all, I never said you were gay, I said you had a type. Lynx tried to break you with a sword, Connor broke your arm, and as I said, there was Steph…Point is, gender has nothing to do with it, you’re just a masochist.”

“I must be since I put up with you,” he sighs. “Let me be clear: I have no interest, nor will I ever have interest in…my new roommate. And this is so far from the appropriate place to talk about this stuff.”

“And he pulls the ‘boss’ card,” Tam narrates sarcastically. “Fine, I’ll leave it alone. For now. Only because I have a conference call with my opposite number in Hong Kong.” She heads out but can’t resist throwing an over-dramatic sigh over her shoulder. “Maybe if I had the ability to throw you through a wall, you and I would have had a chance. Guess we’ll never know.”

She opens the door to the office, and then she’s gone, leaving Tim to parse the utterly bewildering turn to the conversation.

“How did we even get on that topic?” he mutters to himself, searching his desk for his glasses.

God, she can never find out that Jason tried to kill me that first time we met. I’ll never hear the end of it. Even if she’s completely wrong about all this, I’ll have to deal with knowing looks the rest of my life…

Tim makes a valiant effort to lose himself in his work after that, if only to erase the memory of Jason being called ‘daddy’ by another adult. He cleans up his desk as best he can, wrinkling his nose at the idea the place is going to smell like stale coffee for a while, and then does a quick triage of what work needs to be done now and what can wait.

He manages to lose himself for a few hours, working even through lunch, before setting aside time to wrestle with the current problem in his life: namely, helping Jason find someone to step in and deal with the baby situation.

It’s not like a business deal or falling stock options. A human being doesn’t come with cheat codes or hacks.

Well…not directly.

Tim grins to himself and opens an encrypted server to access to the CPS servers. Jason’s adamant about not working through the system, but that doesn’t mean they can’t investigate families within the system on their own and outside of whatever arbitrary criteria individual caseworkers use to evaluate potential parents. It’s a starting point.

At the same time, he’s using his personal computer that’s linked in with the Nest system to add a few extra layers of protection to Jason’s falsified information. It’s a fairly routine task, but he wants to ensure no one realizes he’s there.

His screen freezes.

 O: Do I need to know why you suddenly needed to hack the SSA?

 “Almost no one,” Tim corrects himself with a sigh; of course she’s keeping tabs on him.

He types a quick reply:

 T: You mean you don’t already?

O: No. I’m waiting for you to be upfront about it.

 That would be a definite change from the usual Bat modus operandi. He wonders how long it’s going to last.

 T: Precautionary alias for a case.

O: I see.

T: You know if it was anything more than that I’d have reached out.

O: Even if it involves a certain red sheep of the family?

 Tim groans, and only just refrains from pressing his palms against his eyes in frustration. Babs’ stance on Jason isn’t exactly clear, and she’s just as likely to give Bruce a heads-up about possible Red Hood antics coming up as wait for him to figure it out himself.

 T: Even then. This is a personal thing and I’m handling it.

O: Alright. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt.

O: For now.

 Which Tim knows from experience will only last for so long; any potential threat in Gotham—and Jason is still occasionally classified as one of those—and Oracle might just take a page out of Batman’s mitigation playbook.  

“Problem for another day,” he tells himself.

He’s starting to feel like that’s going to become his new mantra.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Your feedback matters! I want to know what you think of my story, so feel free to leave kudos, a comment or as many of these emojis as you want and let me know how you feel!

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels 🤯mind blown 🤬god damn cliffhanger 😫 whyyyyyyy?!?!?

Next Chapter

[quarthly]

The Fallen Ones: Chapter Two

Max woke up startled. He felt a hand on his shoulder shaking him and a frantic voice telling him to wake up. He quickly opened his eyes and sat up. The nightmare that played on behind his eyelids quickly vanished. Max pulled the jacket wrapped around his shoulders tighter and looked around the room. Max felt a hand soothingly rub his back and quickly looked to his right. Sitting next to him was the guy who gave him his jacket the night before. 

Max wasn’t entirely surprised to find the man put his mask back on in the time that Max was passed out. Max was broken out of his thoughts by the man's voice breaking the slightly awkward silence between them. Max cleared his suddenly dry throat and tried to focus on the man’s words.

“Sorry if I startled you, you were screaming in your sleep and I was worried.”

Max rubbed a hand over his tired eyes and glanced out the broken window, taking note of the rising sun. He cleared his throat again and glanced back at the brunette man.

“What time is it?” Max questioned, choosing to ignore the topic of nightmares.

“Well seeing as the sun is just rising, it’s probably 6 am.”

Max groaned and ran his hands over his face trying to wipe the exhaustion off his face. With some effort, Max pushed himself up until he was standing. He winced a little as he stood on his sore feet. He didn’t have any shoes or socks on. After the escapade that was the night before, he completely forgot about shoes and socks. The adrenaline from that night forced him to ignore the pain for running on asphalt and the like for who knows how long.

“If you want, we can talk about your nightmares...”

Max sharply turned to the man that he had previously been using as a pillow and glared at him.

“I barely know you and you expect me to spill my whole life story to you? As if. I just want to go home.”

“Oh! Speaking of that, I’m supposed to take you home so you can pack some things.”

That being said, the man stood up and walked towards the door.

“Wait! Where’s the other guy?”

The man turned around and unbeknownst to Max, smiled behind his mask, happy that the kid was conversing with him.

“Brian went to tell our boss about what happened last night. Now come on, we don’t have all day.”

Begrudgingly, Max followed the man out of the abandoned house and down the road. Max recognized the area. It was near the old chicken mill that got shut down. Max was stuck in thought for the majority of the walk, enjoying the peaceful silence. They walked for about half an hour, the brunette man leading the way. Max was too busy reminiscing over the times he would play with his little brother, that he didn’t notice the man in front of him abruptly stop walking. Max walked right into the man’s back and quickly backed up.  

“Why did you stop dude?”

The masked man turned towards Max and sighed.

“I get nightmares too. I’m here if you need to talk about it.”

Max glared at the man and sidestepped him.

“I told you to leave it. Now let’s just get to my house already.”

Max stomped off in the direction of his house, leaving the masked male to dejectedly follow him. The walk home was quiet and awkward. The masked man stared after Max longingly, wanting to apologize for striking a nerve but kept quiet for the duration of the walk. They made it back to Max’s house in record time. In total, the walk only took about an hour, but it felt longer the night before.

Max sighed in relief as he saw his home come into view. He raced back to his house, ran up the steps of his porch and stood on his tiptoes as he grabbed the spare key from the door frame. He quickly jabbed the key into the keyhole and unlocked the door. He threw the door open and ran towards his grandmother’s room. Max opened the door and saw her petite form laying in bed. She didn’t appear to move in any capacity. Everything was still and silent. Max took a cautious step into the room and slowly made his way over to her side of the bed.

“Hey kid, we need to talk real quick…”

Max glanced towards the doorway, stopping at the end of her bed. He glanced back at his grandmother before begrudgingly making his way over to the man.

“Yeah, sure thing um man?”

Max heard the man chuckle and a quite “It’s Tim.” while he shut the door to his grandmother’s room.

“Uh yeah Tim, what’s up?” Max asked as he made his way towards the kitchen, where the man was sitting on the kitchen counter right next to the window that he broke through the night before.

“I need you to pack a bag with some clothes and shit. Oh, and you should probably take a weapon with you. I gotta go talk to the Boss and Brian. When you’re done, just go out back and Kate will take you to our other hideout.”

Tim jumped down from the counter and went to the door in the kitchen that led to the garage. Max sighed and turned towards the entrance to the kitchen. He walked out to the living room and went up the stairs. Max turned into his bedroom and cautiously took a step inside. He glanced towards his closet but saw only his clothes. He sighed in relief and pulled an old backpack from the back of the closet. He tossed the bag on his bed and started grabbing clothes. 

His mother always told him to be prepared for anything, so that’s what he did. He packed enough clothes to last a week and headed to the bathroom down the hall to get hygiene products and a first aid kit. He figured it was best to carry some form of medical supplies around these people. He went back to his room and started stuffing everything into the bag. He packed away everything he collected and set the now packed bag by the door. He went back over to his closet and put on some appropriate clothes, along with some thick socks and his boots. It was getting cooler out and he could not afford to get sick. After his boots were fastened securely, he stood up and grabbed his favorite jacket from the back of his desk chair. 

After putting on his jacket, Max glanced at his closet and hesitantly moved towards it. He stood on his tiptoes and pulled out the wooden box from the top shelf.  He fell to his knees and with shaking hands, opened the box. Inside the box was a revolver with a box of ammo, an old police badge, and a creased family photo. Max blankly stared down at the picture and cautiously picked it up. 

The picture seemed to capture a happy family. A petite blonde woman, dressed in pearls and a navy blue dress. She was holding a small brunet toddler that was very fixated on her pearl necklace and was pulling on the necklace in the pick. Standing next to the woman was a tall brunette police officer. The man had a proud smile on his face and had his arm around the woman's shoulders. His free hand was resting on the shoulder of a brunette boy that was enthusiastically smiling at the camera.

The photo was old and creased on the top left by the woman’s head. Max ran his thumb along the crease and startled at the tear that fell on top of the toddler’s face. Max sniffled and wiped the tear away with his thumb while wiping his eyes and nose on his jacket sleeve. Max continued to stare at the picture before abruptly shoving the picture and badge into the hidden pocket on the inside of his jacket. 

Max heard a loud crash from downstairs and hurriedly leaned towards the door to his room and snatched up his backpack. He quickly checked the revolver to make sure it was loaded and unzipped the backpack. He heard another crash and shoved the box of ammo into the backpack roughly, crushing the cardboard box it was in, in the process.  Max rezipped the backpack and shoved the gun into the back of his jean waistband. He hurriedly stood up and threw his backpack on. 

Max rushed out of his room and down the stairs. As he hopped down the last two steps, he turned and saw his grandmother standing in the middle of the living room, staring out the window. Max slowly walked towards her but kept some distance between them. As he kept an eye on the older woman, he served the room. In the middle of the room, near the old woman, was a coffee table that looked like it was shoved out of the way. Whatever usual contents that sat on top of the table had been either shoved off or had fallen off in the process of moving the table.

Max glanced back at his grandmother but saw that she had not moved an inch. Max was creeped out by her eerie stillness and cautiously looked away from her to see what else was damaged. He saw a knocked over bookshelf that held various framed photos, mostly of family. A majority of the framed pictures had broken. Glass laid strewn across the floor and some of the picture frames had broken from the fall. 

Max turned back to his grandmother and jolted back when he noticed that his grandmother had moved soundlessly closer to him. His mouth fell open but no sound came out. His eyes roamed her body, taking in her bloody nightgown. He shakily looked up her body, following the trail of dried blood. Max’s eyes locked onto the sight of the jagged cut on her neck. The cut was almost deep enough to decapitate. 

A gurgling noise sounded from her throat and Max looked up and made eye contact with her cloudy eyes. Her cold stare froze him in place, making him watch as various insects came crawling out of his mouth and neck wound. Her groaning gurgle grew louder, hurting Max’s eardrums to the point where all he could hear was a horrendous ringing. Max covered his ears with his hands, clutching his head in pain. His eyes started to water and he quickly blinked away his tears as he heard her approaching steps.

The old woman couldn’t properly pick up her feet, muscles stiff and joints popping with every step she took towards him. Max started to back away, quickening his pace as she approached quicker. Suddenly the world went out from under him and he felt a searing pain on the back of his head as his world went dark. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as Max opened his eyes. Only seconds had passed and all he could smell was the putrid smell of dead flesh and copper. 

Max groaned and tried to get up, but found something was weighing him down. He groaned again and opened his eyes only to come face to face with his dead grandmother. Her mouth seemed to gape wider as what looked like a centipede started to crawl its way from her throat. Max snapped back to his senses and frantically tried to push her body of his. He kept thrashing as the centipede came closer to falling onto his face when with a final kick, she seemed to go flying off of him. 

Max frantically got up, adjusting the straps of the backpack that almost fell entirely off during his fall. He glanced back up and saw the body of his grandmother start to contort and grotesquely get up. Max lightheadedly rushed towards the door that leads to the garage. He threw open the door and jumped off the small steps onto the concrete, stumbling a bit. As he righted his balance, Max heard the door creak open and turned to see his grandmother standing in the doorway with a psychotic smile etched on her face.

The woman let the door close behind her as she heavily walked down the steps, leaning on the wall for support. The whole time, she kept eye contact with Max. Max watched as her eyes slowly changed from that milky film to glowing gold. Max felt his stomach fill with dread as he recognized those eyes from the night before. With a shaky hand, Max reached for the gun in the back of his jeans’ waistband. With a firm grip on the gun, Max pulled it out and aimed it at the thing that was controlling his grandmother’s body. 

Max took a deep breath and steadily aimed at her. Max could still hear remnants of the ringing, but behind that, he could hear the sound of his father’s voice when he taught him how to properly use a gun. He pulled down the hammer and gulped as he watched as the thing inched closer, fear gripping him tight and making him tense up. Although he knew that something else was controlling her, he still couldn’t shake the thought that this was his grandmother he was going to shoot. The thing seemed to no this and tried to use his weakness to its advantage. Rushing forward, the creature lunged towards him, causing Max to instinctively pull the trigger.

The sound of the gun going off jarred Max as he watched the thing that was defiling his grandmother's body lurched to a stop. There was a bullet hole in her forehead. No blood dripped down from the wound, but it was still terrifying to look at either way. Max watched as her body started to convulse and contort in odd ways. It reminded him of a twisted version of Ballet. He was frozen, stuck staring horror-stricken at the sight of his convulsing grandmother.

He was startled by the sound of glass breaking and the door to the backyard flinging open. The sight of a small, deranged looking woman greeted Max. She wore a questionably stained hoodie and a terrifying mask. Max didn’t have time to dwell on her appearance because as soon as he was able to get a good look at her, she was reaching forwards and dragging him out the door. 

Max was too stunned to try and question anything. He just let himself be dragged by the women out of the house and towards the woods. She was doing most of the running, Max feeling too overwhelmed and barely picking up his feet. He started to trip and stumble, falling into her but somehow not knocking her over with his body weight. She grunted from his sudden weight being forced onto her but she accommodated quickly and picked him up easily. He felt his head resting on her shoulder as her hands gripped the back of his thighs tightly so he wouldn’t fall. He weakly wrapped his arms around her neck and almost dropped his gun in the process. She quickly took the gun from his hands and stuffed it into her hoodie pocket. 

Max felt when she started to speed up again. Felt every bump and turn. Heard every leaf and twig that was crushed. He kept fading in and out of consciousness with the feeling of wind on his face. The last thing he heard before he was knocked out cold was the sound of police sirens. Finally, Max let himself pass out, trusting this mysterious woman to protect him while he was out.

[joeymozzarello]

Pen to Paper

Chapter One

Summary: A simple thesis on a simple book she’d read. That’s all she needed to do. She knew it would be at least a little bit arduous but she didn’t think it would cause this much trouble.

Pairing: Tim Murphy x original female character

Words: 1,489

A/N: i got the idea for this in the american natural history museum where i found a note to a Julie T from a Dr. Com on a bench near the t-rex room.

//

The coffee was grey, that’s the first thing she noticed. It was grey and cold and for some reason it was bubbling - it was too late to give it back now, of course, so she just smiled at the secretary that had handed it to her and pretended to sip it before just holding it in her hands until she found a bin. 

Julie Trenton had been sitting on this leather couch for about ten minutes, her stomach already full of butterflies as she watched the clock in front of her tick three minutes behind. It wasn't a big room but there sure was an echo because with every tick, she could feel her ear drums buzz and her eyes flick to the hands of the clock. Maybe it was just because she was nervous but everything around her was a little slower today. It could also have been the jet lag.

“Ms Trenton?” A woman, probably in her fifties poked her head out of the office, a big wooden door dividing the two of them, a pearly-white smile inviting her in. Julie stood up, a little too eagerly, almost spilling her coffee and risking a head-rush and flicked her bag over her shoulder. “Take a seat, take a seat,” Dr. Connors was one of the most renowned palaeontologists known, Julie had read almost all of her books in the last two years so this - to even be in her presence was an honour to say the least. 

Julie was slow to reach the seat, there was too much to take in all at once. To begin with was the massive window that sat directly behind Dr. Connor’s desk, it illuminated the whole room, from the farthest corners to the shelves of the bookcases - which were filled from floor to ceiling with every book on dinosaurs and evolution that you could think of. There were shelves with awards, certificates hanging on the walls, the desk was huge and wooden and a mess; pens were scattered all over the place, covered in papers with scrawled notes. This was exactly where Julie wanted to be in life. This was her goal.

“Is that Cynthia’s coffee?” Dr. Connors’ voice snapped Julie out of her trance making her glance down at the grey liquid with a frown. “Yeah, give me that,” she reached forward and took the cup from Julie’s seemingly shaky hands. “It’s never a good idea to drink Cynthia’s coffee,” she laughed, motioning to the leather chairs that sat in front of her desk. “So, remind me what you’re here for today, Ms Trenton.”

Julie obliged, immediately sinking into the seat. “You can call me Julie,” the words fell from her mouth without a second thought. She moved on quickly. “I am basing my thesis on different studies but mainly your works and another author’s and I was looking to perhaps shadow you for a while to get some training or experience and to be able to ask you some questions while I write my paper-”

“Where are you from?” Dr. Connors interrupted. “You have an accent.”

Julie blinked, caught off guard. “I, um, flew in from London two nights ago just for this, ma’am,” she cleared her throat.

“Don’t call me ma’am it makes me feel old,” she folded her hands in front of her on the desk, crumpling some papers as she did so and looked at Julie through narrowed eyes and thick-lensed glasses. “You flew in from London just to shadow little old me?” After a pause Julie nodded slowly, mouth slightly agape.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve practised my opening speech, I tend to babble,” Julie chuckled softly, a little embarrassed. Dr. Connors ignored this comment.

“Why that is so flattering, Julie,” she gave her a knowing look. “How long were you thinking?”

“As long as you will allow me, Dr. Connors,” Julie bit down a giddy smile.

Dr. Connors tutted with a smug grin. “Now, Julie, it seems we're on first name basis, you must call me Janet,” she paused. Julie’s heart hitched, she didn’t think it would be this easy, although, Dr. Connors - Janet - was a Leo, so it could have to do with - not important. “I guess I should give you a tour.”

“That’s it? No CV or proof of ID? I could be scamming you-”

Janet turned with a cocked eyebrow. “Are you?” Julie shook her head silently. “Then we have no problem.”

There was a knock on the door, loud voices behind it. “Yes, I get it, Cynthia - please stop pushing me. Cynthia, I know, I get it - it’s only going to take a second - hey, hey! That’s an expensive shirt you know -”

“Tim, just come in!” Janet huffed, standing from her chair with an annoyed glare on her face. The door creaked open after a deathly silence fell over the room. 

“Hey, Janet,” a little voice crept in. Julie turned around to see who it belonged to and the first thing she set her eyes on was his copper-coloured hair, dishevelled and sticking out over his forehead. Then, his scruff, not really a beard, just a show of lack of sleep and his eyes were sort of hooded by a shadowy tired glaze that glimmered in the late morning light. 

Janet looked over Tim’s shoulder to Cynthia who looked hurt and annoyed. “How many times have I told you, Cynthia? Saying no to Tim is like talking to a brick wall, stop trying.” She rolled her eyes and nodded her head, motioning for Tim to come in. “What is it with you and aggravating that poor woman?” 

Tim shrugged, a small and innocent shrug that you’d expect from a child. “It’s fun.” He looked like he was going to say something but then his eyes fell on her. Compared to Tim, Julie wasn't either big or small, they seemed about the same size, except Julie was a slim figured woman with legs for days - at least that’s what her mum used to say. Her hair was short and straight, a bob that made her look like a flapper and a sense of style that really didn’t make any sense but worked for her.

“Oh, I see your eye’s landed on our new recruit,” Janet chuckled making Julie’s stomach flip. She couldn’t believe she was already a ‘new recruit’, she thought she would have to go back home tomorrow night, sad and a failure, this was a complete shocker. “Tim Murphy, this is Julie Trenton, Julie Trenton this is -”

“Tim Murphy?” Julie’s voice was a hushed whisper. She didn’t understand how she hadn’t clocked before, this was the Tim Murphy, the author Tim Murphy, the survivor of the original Jurassic Park Tim Murphy. She couldn’t believe it. He’d only been a successful archeologist for a couple years but ever since his first book Julie had been extremely interested in his life.

“Yes,” Tim knotted his eyebrows together, shaking it off and shifting his focus from her back to Janet. “Guess what?”

“What is it now?”

“I got it. The expedition.” Tim said, his voice the most excited Julie had ever heard anyone’s voice be. Janet gave no reaction, just a sigh. “Okay, let me say that again because I’m sure you didn’t hear me since I just told you that my biggest dream of all time is coming true and you have said zero words.”

“Tim, who do you think recommended you for the job?”

Doctor Tim Murphy’s entire face lit up, his eyes no longer shadowed but bright and glowing caramel and his shoulders suddenly relaxed. “You didn’t,” his smile was so huge at this point, his slightly crooked teeth were on full show and something about his smile was making her smile. It felt good, she was excited for him. “Oh, Janet this is amazing, this is insane, this is EXCELLENT! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Don’t you even think about hugging me.” Janet raised a finger at him.

He raised his hands up on show. “I would never even dare,” he smiled. 

Janet’s phone begun ringing loudly snapping all of their attentions to her desk. She huffed, clearly annoyed. “Uh, Tim, it’s John, do you mind taking Julie around the building for now? I’ll meet you at lunch in the food court?”

Tim eyed her, Julie felt judged slightly but nothing could bring down Tim’s mood, so he said, “Yes, why not. Julie, is it?” He tilted his head slightly. She nodded. “Let me show you around.”

Master List!