#they are from New Jersey. gotham is a city not a fucking state. do you have fucking Indianapolis plates??? no??? because its a fucking city

[rosefinch07]

Red Blood and Blue Rivers (Jason Todd/Jaime Reyes) crossposted on ao3

The ao3 vers

Summary: Blue Beetle crash lands in Gotham, Red Hood is the one to find him.

Jaime screamed as he lost control of his flight, Khaji Da rattling off alert after alert while he tried desperately to get back onto solid ground. He twisted in the air and attempted to grab onto a water tower, the metal denting as he barely missed getting a grip on it.

Khaji Da suddenly took control of his body, the sting of the wind against him dulled.

"What the actual fuck Khaji!" He yelled, startled. "Bájame! Bájame, God-damn-it!" Jaime couldn't even thrash, Khaji going overboard in protective protocols.

Jaime, we are drawing near a suitable landing point. It is in Gotham City, New Jersey. Is that satisfactory?

"Sure! Whatever! Just please put me down?!" He clenched his eyes shut and distantly felt his body crash into grass.

He was unnaturally tensed up until Khaji released him. It was only then that he fully sagged, breathing heavily. His suit was suffocating around him.

Jaime, The Red Hood is approaching. Shall we utilize attack measures?

No. No fighting.

Jaime Reyes–

Let. Him. He could already hear the mulch.

Jaime opened his eyes when the crunch of mulch turned into boots on grass. Red Hood's emotionless helmet tilted down at him.

"The fuck you're doing here, Bug Boy?" His voice changer made the words sound rough.

Jaime laughed it off, the Blue Beetle face shield making it seem as if it was a disembodied voice much like Hood. His suit was still stiff, only a slight give when breathing.

"Powers are out of whack, give me a sec." He made to get up on his own but wobbled, making an absolute fool of himself.

Hood grabbed his hand and pulled him up, pins and needles echoing throughout Jaime's body. He still wasn't stable and his head banged against Red Hood's shoulder, causing him to groan helplessly.

"I am so sorry. I don't have full control of my body back yet." Jaime explained, flexing his hands until the pins and needles left. Hood held him up by his upper arms.

"Just tell me when I should drop you." Hood's monotone voice ordered.

When he got his body back under his control and Khaji let the suit become flexible again, he stepped back with a quick mutter.

"Thanks." Jaime breathed.

Hood tilted his head.

"What the hell happened?"

He shrugged, heeding the warning burst of panic that Khaji sent through his brain. Hood didn't need to know shit.

"Like I said, powers on the fritz." Jaime took another step back and tested out his elytra again.

The muscles attached to them obeyed and let him hover, though due to the amount of energy lost, he couldn't keep it up for long.

Hood, clearly thinking that he was running away, grabbed his wrist and forced him down. Jaime stumbled back into Red Hood's arms, stammering.

Allow me to maim The Red Hood.

It took everything in him to keep Khaji from materializing a weapon and impaling the guy who was the one thing between him and eating dirt.

Absolutely not.

Hood was a hard man of armor and muscle. His arms supported Jaime and his gloved hands were on his hips.

"You are literally shaking." Hood stated. "You are not going to wherever-the-fuck Texas when you probably can't make it two blocks."

Khaji confirmed it.

Jaime chuckled, slightly bitter and knowing he was getting defensive.

"What? Like you care?"

Hood shook his head, his fingers digging into the Blue Beetle suit's upper arms as he started walking. Jaime was forced to follow.

"Fuck off, you impressed the big Bat because you had no perceived casualties in your first major fight. I'm doing my duty." He defended, sharply turning them onto a street.

Jaime winced.

The crucifixes under the suit said different, the extra one hanging down further than his own that felt cold against his chest said different.

It had been a few months and yet the loss stung so severely it was as if it had happened only hours before.

"One. One casualty." He corrected absently, rubbing a hand at his chest. "I had to bury him."

Jaime tried falling into step with Hood but kept falling behind.

Hood seemed to let out a sympathetic hum, but it turned into a garbled mess so he didn't know for sure.

"Sucks, first casualty always hits the hardest." Before he knew it, they were going up the steps of an apartment building. Hood led them into an unit and locked the door behind them. "Want to talk about it?" He seemed to go softer at those words, but it might have been his imagination.

Jaime bit his cheek.

Given that it was Papi, hell no.

"I would rather not." He admitted, ignoring how antsy Khaji became. It was as if it was pacing around and gnawing at the bars of an enclosure.

Even just saying what he'd said so far soothed him slightly, but he didn't want to prove the telehealth therapist right.

"Anyways, I really do need to get going. I can find my own way." He shrugged off Hood's hands and stood on his own, taking a step or two back to create space.

Hood just rocked back onto his heels, casual as anything.

"Suit yourself."

Suspicion crept in and he stepped towards the door. Five steps in and he couldn't go further without falling.

"Coño." He grumbled. "I shouldn't need you to play caretaker for me."

Hood picked him up and plopped him onto the couch, Jaime plus whatever Khaji weighed not seeming to effect him. The headiness of the effortless show of strength caused him to swallow around a dry throat. He sat up on the couch.

"Well, I am." Hood took off his helmet to reveal a domino mask and a handsome face. Was that white streak in his bangs dyed? "I'll get us something to drink, I'm parched and you might be too." His actual voice was scratchy with cigarettes, though young, like him.

He examined Hood's scarred lips and cheeks, shifting a bit so he could watch as he walked to the kitchen.

Jaime, you are showing signs of what you humans call "infatuation." I recommend "shooting your shot."

It took everything in him to not react to its words.

What happened to wanting to kill the broader guy where he stood?

The Red Hood is showing signs connected to a trait you would call being trustworthy. I am monitoring nonetheless.

Cool.

Cool, cool, cool...

Was he really planning on flirting with the crime lord?

He could practically hear Milagro laugh at him for being a disaster bi.

Jaime couldn't even lie to himself and say that it was tactical flirting, there was no rhyme or reason to it.

Hood came back and handed him water while sipping from a beer can. Jaime debated for all of two seconds before letting the mask pull down to his neck. He sipped at his water.

There was a certain risk to it. In trusting someone he just met with his face.

"Thank you, Hood."

Hood studied his face before a smirk tugged at his lips and at that scar on his cupid's bow before it disappeared behind the can again.

Jaime's heart practically stopped at his next words.

"No problem, Pretty Boy."

He pushed his hair back from his face, running a hand through it just so he had something to focus on in order to not get all flustered.

"You're not that bad to look at yourself, Hermoso." Jaime shot back, winking.

Hood chuckled, sitting next to him. His gloves were still on, Khaji noted for him.

"Would've thought you'd be more southern sounding, given Texas and all." Red Hood stated, an amused smile to his lips.

Jaime waved his own covered hand.

"I know how to control it. Spanish sounds plain weird with a Texan accent so I just don't use the accent all that much. I mean, I don't really get the accent since I'm not that far south but I do know when to use it." He moved his tongue in his mouth to get the proper placement for it. "Si estuviera hablando así todo el día, mi familia tendría mi cabeza en una pica!" Jaime laughed at how he sounded. It was like he was some kid who was learning Spanish in classes, slow and not as quick as he was used to because of the southern drawl.

Hood laughed with him, knocking their shoulders together.

"You're right. Though, no creo que tu familia pueda derribarte como yo podría hacerlo."

Jaime flushed, his cheeks going hot.

"Is that a challenge I hear?" Had all of the boldness he could muster.

Hood tilted Jaime's chin up, looking down at him. His mouth twisted into something more appraising.

"Maybe. Do you want a beat down?"

Khaji was a constant pulse in his head. It caused ripples to form along the suit's surface.

Jaime Reyes, do not dare.

Fine, he wouldn't get Red Hood to pin him down and make him helpless. A guy can't have any fun around here.

He shrugged, overly aware of the shivers that Hood's hand on his chin was creating down his spine.

"We can schedule a time and place for it." Jaime gestured to the apartment. "Wouldn't want to wreck your shit."

Hood chuckled, leaning close to his face. He could see the fine mesh on white out lenses of the domino, the stubble on his cheeks. The beer on his breath smelled malty.

"What if you rocked it?" He whispered, his voice breathy and suggestive like everything else out of his mouth and Jaime broke.

His head pounded with Khaji's alarm as he turned to lean up. It was foolish, he didn't care.

Their lips met in a brush before he pressed closer and tongue was involved. Red Hood tasted just as he smelled: of ash, beer, chocolate, and tar.

It was bad. It was foul. It was everything.

Khaji went blissfully quiet and Jaime pulled Hood on top of him, tangling his hands into his dark hair. The Blue Beetle suit and the Red Hood costume were too bulky to be up against each other comfortably, but they did what they could.

Jaime pulled back to gasp breathlessly and Hood tried to chase his lips for a second. His back met the couch cushions. The larger man put one foot on the ground and his knee on the couch and loomed over him, his mouth set in a spit-slick grin. It was downright predatory.

He started to lean down to kiss him again when an unfamiliar notification sound echoed through the apartment. Hood groaned, dropping his head in frustration.

"Hood-" Jaime started, sitting up when he got off the couch.

He just grabbed his phone and texted someone, fury in every line of his body. He messed with the mask some, odd movements scratching at the side. Hood eventually relaxed, coming back to hover over him again.

"Yeah, Angel Face?" He wiped a string of saliva off Jaime's chin with his thumb.

Jaime forgot what he was about to say, so he just swallowed and went to the next best thing.

"What was that about?"

Hood hummed and rubbed circles distractingly at the corner of Jaime's mouth.

"Just someone sticking their head in something that doesn't concern them."

He pressed a hungry kiss against Jaime so he couldn't answer and he responded in kind, grunting into it as Hood moved his head how he wished. His stubble scratched against his face, a curious sensation. He was already getting used to the ash and tar after-taste.

The loss of control made his head spin and he grasped at broad shoulders.

It was as if he was being consumed.

The next time he pulled back for air (seriously, how much lung compacity did Hood have?), his breaths were shaky and his fingers itched to pull Hood's mask off so he could mimic Jaime's own bare face. Hood started mouthing at the bare space below his jaw and Jaime drew the Blue Beetle suit lower, to his shoulders.

Jaime, do you trust this man with you bare? Khaji checked in, the closest thing to concern coloring the mechanical voice. At the rate you are going, he will see me or see the chains you fight to keep intact within twenty more minutes.

Fuck, it was right.

He tugged at Hood's hair so he disconnected from his neck. He looked up at him inquisitively, a slight frown to his lips at being interrupted.

"No- No biting below shoulders, no action below the belt."

Jaime could live with visible hickies. He just didn't want the intimacy of a naked chest, of his back and torso on display. It was too much.

Red Hood nodded, his lips tugging up.

"Thanks, noted." He said, as if it was nothing. "I'm not good with being restrained by my arms."

Jaime made a confirming noise.

"Cool."

He twirled Hood's hair between his fingers and took a moment to slow down. Hood leaned into the rythmic motion.

Jaime pressed a kiss to his lips and Hood pushed him to lay down again, keeping their lips together.

"After our fight, would you like to go to dinner with me?" He murmured into Jaime's mouth. He finally felt the scarring.

"What about our identities?" Jaime blinked through the haze.

Hood winced.

"Oracle found out your identity from tapping into the mask camera at a very... bad time. They told me before I could stop them." He seemed apologetic.

Khaji jolted into action before he could stop it, making the suit close around his panicked face and blades peek out of his arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't control this." He forced the blades back and calmed Khaji down enough to get his face uncovered again.

Hood leaned back, giving Jaime space before taking the domino off.

Green eyes flecked with blue greeted him, the pupils blown a bit.

"My name is Jason Todd, nice to smooch ya' Jaime Reyes." Hood- Jason tilted his head teasingly.

Jaime rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"You're good at it, Jason."

He didn't know what else to say and Jason just chuckled.

"You're pretty good at it too, Jaime."

Jaime intertwined their fingers and looked up at him.

"I would love to go to dinner with you."

SPANISH TRANSLATIONS

Bájame- put me down

Coño- fuck

Hermoso- handsome

Si estuviera hablando así todo el día, mi familia tendría mi cabeza en una pica- If I was talking like that all day, my family would have my head on a pike

no creo que tu familia pueda derribarte como yo podría hacerlo- I don't think your family can take you down quite like I could

[brobro642]

Brain dump

Hey Guys this is me getting my personal fanfic out of my head enjoy :)

CHAPTER 1

I blinked and blinked again, nope its still there, a green floating ring. Wait a floating green ring that means this is a “Jacob Jackson your will against your personal fears have given you the power of the Green Lantern Core.” I winced as the ring decided to slam itself on my middle finger and a body suit appears on me. “Well shit” I cursed “A fucking lantern ring, why do I have a fucking lantern ring.”

Perhaps I should back up, Hi I’m Jacob Jackson I’m eighteen years of age true raised Aussie cleaner of plates and pans and somehow ended up in the FUCKING DC WORLD, do I know how no, am I panicking not anymore…pfft that’s a lie. Any case for the last ten minutes was panicking on this fucked up world I am, how I get home, HOW I SURVIVE. Luckily, I am still in Australia and not in America or god forbid somewhere else. “ok ok think, how do I get out of here…. Fuck I am talking to myself…. again.”

I sigh out loud and look around my camp, when I got here, I knew immediately knew something was wrong, to start with the media detailing SUPERMANS latest victory against BIZZARO, when I saw that I cursed softly and decided of one of two things. One this is a dream which QUICKLY turned out wrong when an eshy thought it would be funny to punch me, good to know things don’t change, or two, somehow someway I manage to get in this world….is my life a fanfic now?

I shook my head, gathered my things and hide them underneath a large rock formation, whelp there is probably one person who can help me…. I hope. “Ring can you plot a flight course to Gotham City” I asked it, feeling stupid. “Gotham City not recommended to Jacob Jackson; all new Lanterns are required to go to Oa” the ring replied. It started to glow and made glow as well lifting me up “wait ring I am not from this Universe at all not even this Omni-verse I need to speak with The Batman” I Shouted and suddenly paused in mid-air. Everything seemed to be still, I felt something strange with my head, it felt like a string being rubbed against my neck. “I have seen your life Jacob Jackson and no data in the Green Lantern Database has shown your problem, will the Batman be advisable?” “Mabey not but he has connections and contingency plans, I would rather be a shaky ally rather than an enemy.” Time seamed to go forward again as I was pulled along the dawning sky “Course has been set for Gotham City, New Jersey America, Estimated time, 9 Hours 38 minutes and 24 seconds” the ring stated. I exhaled softly “thank you ring” “Your worries are not needed Jacob Jackson.” Was the final thing it said before I was gaining speed, Gotham city here I come….my life is a fanfic now.

[rillette]

Do you have any fanon interpretations that irk you? For example, the idea of “pit madness” is kind of annoying to me and I kind of wish people would stop acting like it’s a canon thing.

Hmmmm off the top of my head, pit madness is definitly one. I fucking hate it when people don't include Cass and Duke as part of the family as well. Like besties you're missing two entire people, what's up with that hmm? 🤨

I also get buttmad when people call Jason the angry robin, or give him a "crime alley" accent. They're all from New Jersey, guys, they all have the same accent.

I dont like it when people act like Dick and Jason weren't brothers or had a bad relationship when Jason was little. Ummm ummm. The "goldie" nickname pisses me off too fuck outta here with that shit.

I also think it's really odd that everyone thinks Tim's parents left him all alone when he was a little kid? He was at boarding schools you guys, he never actually took pictures of batman and robin as far as I can tell. I feel like the boarding schools is inherently funnier too and yet.

Uhhhh that's all that I can think of at the moment but I'm sure theres more lol

[bigfan-fanfic]

I don't know why, but for some reason, I thought of Batdad early in the relationship between himself and Bruce not having a lot of followers. Like, it's early in 2000's and the LGBTQ community haven't really made a big stand in society, so the thought of Bruce marrying Batdad was horrifying. But once it gets later into the century he starts gaining more followers and contributions and love from people.

Alright, let's say that Dick is 13 years younger than Bruce and Batdad. And we say modern day Batdad, in 2022, is 35. That makes Dick 22, Jason 18, etc.

If we go off of the idea that Dick was someone in his tweens when he lost his parents, let's say the middle range between the youngest and oldest I've heard of and say 11, that means Batdad and Bruce adopted Dick 11 years ago, in 2011, when they were both 24.

And if we say Bruce and Batdad got legally married at 18 so that Batdad could take over Wayne Enterprises, and Bruce went around the world for 5 years, that means that Bruce and Batdad were 23 when he returned. So he had been Batman for about a year before adopting Dick. All this tracks. So that means Batman came into operation in 2009-2010, and it was 2004 when they, at 18, theoretically married. Researching this confirms gay marriage was not legal in either New York or New Jersey (the states where Gotham could theoretically be located) and would not be until, coincidentally, 2011 and 2013, respectively.

So imagine being 18 in 2004, when President Bush affirmed support of a constitutional ban on same-sex marriage, when San Francisco briefly allowed same-sex marriage and a few months later had to void all the marriages they allowed. Imagine Bruce and Batdad ducking away to New Paltz, New York for the day to have a civil marriage ceremony and then seeking a certificate only to find that Jason West, the mayor who had officiated, had been charged for "solemnizing marriages without a license". Oh, fuck, imagine going through the next 5 years without the boy you love at your side, having to run a whole-ass company with his name on it and skyrocketing in notoriety as a gay public figure and suddenly it seems like everybody hates you. Imagine having people constantly questioning your control of the company because you can't legally marry the man you love, who has left you to the wolves. Imagine this all while there are still no laws protecting you from discrimination based on sexual orientation. (If in New Jersey, civil unions for same sex couples become allowed in December of 2006. If in New York, a marriage equality bill keeps being proposed but keeps getting shot down.)

In 2010, after 5 years of dealing with all this shit in your own professional and personal life, all on your own except for the man who raised you when your parents wouldn't, the man you love comes back and immediately makes your life THAT MUCH HARDER by starting to do the vigilante thing. However, on June 24th, 2011, same-sex marriage became legal in New York state, meaning that Batdad and Bruce could be legally married starting July 24th. Adoption is a simpler issue, as the state of New York had a history of allowing same-sex couples to adopt, so Bruce and Batdad could may have been able to obtain guardianship of Dick and then later adopt him.

But yes, imagine Batdad having to go through so much by himself, facing discrimination and hardship at every turn, but eventually being able to marry the man he loves and start a family together, and being an inspiration for those that were like them. And pushing for equality, to help LGBTQ+ people who aren't as fortunate as him to have the benefit of wealth and connections, and eventually becoming a beloved figure in the city he once thought hated him for who he was.

[afni-fics]

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 26: Dragon Rising (part 5)

Chapter 26: Dragon Rising (part 5) by C_R_Scott Chapters: 26/? Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Red Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Tim Drake, Lucien Flavius Additional Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Skyrim/DCU crossover, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Not Beta Read, Alternate Universe - Skyrim Fusion, Modded Skyrim, Skyrim Spoilers, Tim Drake is Dragonborn | Dovahkiin, Batfamily-centric (DCU), Tim Drake-centric

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Summary:

The conclusion of the "Dragon Rising" portion of the main Skyrim storyline.

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

When Tim and Lucien made their way into Dragonsreach's throne room, they could hear, even from the front doors, that Jarl Balgruuf was already in a loud, animated discussion between his steward Proventus and a different guard. This one was male and had very striking facepaint. Tim frowned. Irileth was nowhere in sight. 

Swell.

"Good. You're finally here." Proventus said. "The Jarl's been waiting for you."

The new armed guard on the Jarl's left hand agreed. "We were just talking about you. My brother needs a word with you."

A quick glance back confirmed Lucien had decided to hang back by a couple of yards, but his own hooded face was lined with a subtle scowl since he didn't see Irileth either. Then Tim paused at the foot of the stairs leading to the throne and bowed respectfully to the Jarl. 

Jarl Balgruuf looked at Tim appraisingly. It made Tim uneasy. "Irileth informed me of the dragon's death at the Watchtower, but she mentioned something... strange that happened there." The Nordic ruler narrowed his eyes at the younger man. "I'd like to hear your perspective on the events."

Tim slipped on his best Wayne mask, the one he normally reserved for dealing with Lex Luthor company executives whenever any decided to visit Gotham and Wayne Enterprises. He was nothing but professional as he spoke. "I wish I could give you my perspective, my Jarl," he said politely. "Unfortunately due to my illness and injuries, I wasn't in the right state of mind to remember much of that night. I do know that there are accounts from others who were there when the dragon died that I appeared to absorb 'something' from it." He shook his head. "What that 'something' was, I couldn't even fathom how to describe it with any accuracy from second-hand accounts. The most I can offer is that I've heard the word 'Dragonborn' used in conjunction with the events. I am sorry I can't offer more clarity than that."

Balgruuf stroked his beard thoughtfully. "If Irileth's men, honest Nords to a man, who were there that night and witnessed the miracle, are calling you 'Dragonborn', then it makes sense that the Greybeards have sent out a summons for you now. You must be Dragonborn."

Tim felt a lump rise to his throat, but he swallowed it down and clung to his "mask" like a second skin. "Who are these Greybeards, and why would they want to summon me?"

"They are masters of the Way of the Voice," Balgruuf started as one of his servants brought him a drink. He took one silver goblet and waved the rest away. "They live in seclusion high on the slopes of the Throat of the Word." He took a long draught before continuing. "The Dragonborn is said to be uniquely gifted in the Voice - the ability to focus your vital essence into a Thu'um, or a Shout. If you really are Dragonborn, they can teach you how to use your gift."

The servant girl offered Tim a drink, but he waved her away politely as he kept his focus on Balgruuf even as the left-hand guard began to address him.

"Didn't you hear the thundering sound as you came to Dragonsreach?! That was the voice of the Greybeards," the man in the dark armor said with absolute self-certainty. "Summoning you to High Hrothgar! This hasn't happened in... centuries, at least. Not since Tiber Septim himself was summoned when he was still Talos of Atmora!"

If the guard was going to say anything else, he was cut off by Proventus "Hrongar, calm yourself. What does any of this Nord nonsense have to do with our friend here?"

As Proventus triggered a heated argument with who Tim now knew as Hrongar, the Jarl's brother, he took the moment to take a breath and absorb what had just been said. He swallowed the desire to include his own frustrated voice to the squabbling between Proventus and Hrongar, but held his tongue. Instead, he let Balgruuf finally break the argument up before speaking up again.

"What do these Greybeards want with me?" Tim asked.

Balgruuf shook his head. "That's the Greybeards' business not ours," he said with almost an apologetic tone. "Whatever happened when that dragon was killed, it revealed something in you, and the Greybeards heard it." The Jarl met and held Tim's gaze solemnly. "If they think you're Dragonborn, who are we to argue?" Then he broke off the gaze and sighed. "You'd better get up to High Hrothgar as soon as possible. There's no refusing the summons of the Greybeards. It's a tremendous honor."

As the Jarl mused wistfully, something about envying Tim about his upcoming 'pilgrimage' and waxing nostalgic about the peacefulness of the Graybeard's high altitude monastery, inwardly Tim was trying and failing to wrap his head around this entire situation. How had things escalated so damned fast and in such a completely insane direction?! He wasn't whatever they thought this "Dragonborn" was! He couldn't be! He was just a human vigilante from Gotham. He wasn't a metahuman. He wasn't descended from magic or an alien from Mars or Krypton. He was just a rich kid from Jersey for Christ's sake!

There was a subtle shift in the Jarl's voice and Tim's attention jerked back to the man on the throne. "You've done a great service for me and my city, Dragonborn."

"Oh crap!" Tim thought silently with a faint edge of alarm, though his face betrayed nothing of his inner thoughts. "He's referring to me as 'Dragonborn" like it's replaced my name. This can't be good."

"By my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of Whiterun. It's the greatest honor that's within my power to grant."

"Wait-- What?!" Tim's mask slipped as he blinked in surprise and stared at the Jarl with blatant bewilderment.  He was momentarily distracted by the fact that Proventus had walked up to him bearing a large parcel that was wrapped with what looked like a cloak bearing the crest of Whiterun, an image of a horse's head in profile. "Oh, no, no, nonono..." Unconsciously Tim took a step away from Proventus.

Despite the young man's obvious confusion, Balgruuf pressed onward, not caring in the least about Tim's visible discomfort. "I also assign you Lydia as a personal Housecarl, and this weapon from my armory to serve as your badge of office."

"Now one moment--" Tim tried to interrupt, even as the Jarl's brother Hrongar was attempting to offer him what looked like a very ornate greatsword that was nearly as long as Tim was tall. He tried to wave the sword and the parcel away, but thankfully Lucien came up and accepted both on Tim's behalf, looking about as startled as his friend was feeling. Lucien shrugged his shoulders apologetically at Tim. He had no clue what was going on either in that moment. 

Tim held both hands up as if surrendering to Balgruuf, if only to just make him stop talking for the moment. "I... appreciate all of this. You have shown me a great deal of generosity, Jarl Balgruuf, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart... but..." Then Tim caught sight, out of the corner of his eyes, a heavily armed woman with a sword and shield coming into view. He focused on that for the moment. "I don't even have a house in the area to have a 'housecarl' in," he argued. "You don't need to give me one of your soldiers."

"That's easy enough to fix."

Tim felt the blood drain from his face. "Oh sweet fucking Jesus," he thought to himself with dismay.

"Proventus," Balgruuf said. "Didn't you mention that there is a house that is currently vacant in the Plains District the other day?"

Tim tried to open his mouth to protest again in a vain attempt to derail the Jarl's obvious train of thought. However, thankfully, another strong voice spoke up loud and clear.

"That won't be necessary, my Jarl!" 

Tim almost sagged in relief as the main doors to Dragonsreach flew open and Irileth marched herself into the great hall with calm unwavering authority. 

"My apologies for being late," she said as she bowed respectfully to the Jarl. "But there was a disturbance being caused at the city gates by a couple of Redguard men I needed to attend to." Then she glanced at Tim and Lucien, taking a moment to look over the things that had been handed to Lucien with a subtle frown, before turning her full attention back to the Jarl. "And there won't be a need for your new Thane to purchase a home within the city walls. Timothy and I spoke the other day at the Temple about his favorite areas in the Hold..."

Tim glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, repressing his new confusion as best he could. They never spoke about any "favorite areas" the other day when she visited him at the Temple. She just asked him to come to this meeting with the Jarl and left when he agreed. Then, as she continued her "suggestion", he realized what she was doing.

"...He mentioned having a fondness for Riverwood. The people there were kind to him after surviving Helgen, and he spoke with me at length about how much he was looking forward to taking in some of the hunting in that area once he leaves the city. I believe Gerdur's husband mentioned that they have an old house that's been vacant for years in the village during his most recent delivery of lumber." She gave Tim a knowing look. "It would take a number of weeks to bring it up to livable conditions, but considering our Thane is going to make a pilgrimage to High Hrothgar upon leaving the city, his new housecarl will have plenty time to make that happen.

Balgruuf regarded Irileth thoughtfully, then he smiled at Tim. "Yes, I can see why Riverwood would be such an appealing place for a young man such as yourself. In my youth, when my father was still Jarl, I remember relishing the freedom to roam those forests during hunts with my old friends Kodlak, Olfrid, and Eorlund. It's not a luxury I can afford myself these days, but I cherish the memories." He turned to Irileth. "Please send a missive to Gerdur. Let her know that our new Thane has chosen her village as his home whenever he is in the Hold, and send Lydia to see about starting preparations to make the vacant house ready for use by the time he returns. 

Irileth nodded respectfully. "Yes my Jarl."

Tim marveled at how smoothly the dark elf routed the Jarl. She couldn't stop him from offering Tim a piece of property in Whiterun, but at least she was able to put a solid day's travel distance between that potential "home" and Dragonsreach, as well as make it expected that it would be weeks, at least, before he would be able to spend any significant time there.

Balgruuf then regarded Timothy. "We are honored to have you as Thane of our city, Dragonborn. May the Divines watch over your journey to High Hrothgar." Then he turned to his steward. "Back to business Proventus. We still have a city to defend."

***

Once dismissed from the court, Tim and Lucien were led out of Dragonsreach by Irileth, under the excuse that she was going to help prepare him for his journey to High Hrothgar, since neither he nor Lucien had ever been to that part of Skyrim. 

As soon as the heavy wooden doors to Dragonsreach were slammed shut behind them, and the trio had put decent amount of distance between themselves and any nearby guards, Tim turned to look at Lucien and Irileth. "Ok... Can someone please explain to me what the hell just happened in there?!"

  ====================

Note:

So, in my Skyrim head canon, Jarl Balgruuf is the kind of man who cares about his people, wants to be a fair ruler, but has absolutely no impulse control to speak of. Proventus tries to keep his Jarl on task, but has no ability to restrain his boss's worst impulses if Balgruuf has his mind set on something. Irileth is really the only one who can keep the Jarl on the straight and narrow... so long as she's in the same room as him.

Poor Tim, though... He's so confused.

At least he's healthy now, right? And he's got a new greatsword he has absolutely no clue on how to use:

#elder scrolls dc#fanfiction#tim drake#skyrim fanfiction#red robin#batfam#crossover#lucien flavius#wip#afewnovelideas

[iamfitzwilliamdarcy]

Title: Agony! That Can Cut Like a Knife Summary: Tim Drake loves Gotham Sports, but Gotham Sports do not love Tim back (AO3)  A/N: I put too many italics in this for a tumblr post smh. Apologies in advance to citizens of Newark, my only encounters with New Jersey have been on the Turnpike and a view of the skyline across the river from a rooftop bar in Manhattan. Kinda want to apologize to Devils fans but maybe not enough to actually Do It.

For anyone who cares I set a Gotham Sports Team Roster because same names are used for different sports in different universes and this is what I decided to go with:

Football: Knights Hockey: Bats Baseball: Colonials Basketball: Buzzards

There was a low, pained groan from a couch in the main living room. Pained enough Bruce stopped to check it out. Jason was sitting in an armchair, eyeing the couch’s occupant with a particular kind of disbelieving, annoyed distaste.

Bruce couldn’t see who it was because they were slumped down, laying on the cushions. He peeked over to find Tim, hands peeking out of the too-long sleeves of his black Gotham Bats jersey. They covered his face, but he was looking through his fingers to watch the TV intensely.

Bruce followed Tim’s gaze to see the score and winced. “Still early in the season,” he said bracingly.

“Early?” Jason snorted. “It’s December.”

Tim did not respond, still watching intensely. He dropped his hands at a particularly bad turn-over to shout, “Oh come on!”

“Pace yourself,” Jason said, giving him that look again. “Or you won’t last to April. And we’ll need you in April.”

“Jason,” Tim said, sounding calm and intense, even as the game breaks away for a commercial. “I have never been chill about this team a day in my life.”

Jason muttered something that sounded like “Clearly.”

Bruce had been busy the past couple of months and hadn’t had much time to keep up with Gotham’s sports teams. Not that there had been much to keep up with. The Knights had ended their season quietly, as they had for the past decade--no playoff games, no Super Bowl hopes. There had been a brawl between teammates during a late season practice, but the team had kept that mostly hush-hush.

Hockey was only two months in but--well, he could see the score on the TV to see how that was going. The Buzzards, he’d read in the paper just that morning, weren’t doing much better.

He hadn’t had much time to hang out with his kids, either. He settled down next to Tim on the couch to watch, just in time for the game to return to commercials and a fight to break out over the face-off circle.

The second period closed with Gotham on a PowerPlay for another 1:30. Bruce got up to get snacks (“Popcorn,” Jason said, “With M&Ms!” Tim added.)

“Bruce,” Tim said  balefully, staring up at him with wide eyes as Gotham gave up a shorthanded goal and their goalie broke his stick against the crossbar. “Will you buy the me Bats, please?”

“I had a chat with Joseph Higgens last week, actually,” Bruce said casually.

Tim twisted around so suddenly he almost startled even Bruce. “Higgens?” Tim repeated in an incredulous hiss. “Higgens? The Devils, Bruce, really, have you no loyalty? You’re a traitor, this is treason!”

Jason turned his laugh into a cough,, and Bruce opened his mouth in defense of his Gotham pride, but Tim was working himself into a state. “You don’t just give up on your team because they keep losing! That’s your team, you can’t just choose any old other team in your state. You don’t get to choose, Bruce! You can’t just turn your back on Gotham!

“And Newark! Nobody wants to live in Newark. I’d rather die than live in Newark, jot that down Jason, I want that in my Advance Directives.”

“Fair,” Jason said, nodding. He had died, and he had been to Newark. He understood.

Tim steamrolled on, not even acknowledging he’d been validated. “Wait, are you sending me to Newark, a city I hate, to own the Devils, the team I hate? Why,” and Tim, to Bruce’s horror, sounded tearful, “do you hate me, B?”

“Tim,” Bruce said, a little helplessly. “Tim, honey, I was joking.”

He leaned over and lays a hand across Tim’s forehead. He felt a shade too warm, but not feverish enough to cause such a response. It was probably the jersey anyway.

“I’m not sick, Bruce,” Tim said mulishly. Then, suspiciously, “Did you call me honey? You don’t do that. You are sending me to Newark.”

He flopped over on the couch and buried his head into his arms. This was probably a good thing as Gotham was scored against again.

“Just put us out of our misery,” Tim mumbled.

“What’s wrong with Drake?” Damian had come in, Dick not far behind, juggling the leftover popcorn Bruce had left on the counter, and he stood, arms folded, lip curling as he examined Tim. “He looks more pathetic than usual.”

“Ah Timmy,” Dick said sympathetically, glancing at the screen. “A little early for the annual Gotham Sports-Induced emotional breakdown, isn’t it?”

“Fuck you and your seocnd rate Bludhaven ECHL team, Dick,” Tim snarled, words, but not his ire, muffled by the couch pillow and his own arms.

Dick blinked, unsure how to respond, and silence rang through the room, though Jason’s silence sounded suspiciously like silent laughter.

Tim turned over. “I’m sorry,” he said, meeting Dick’s eyes. “That was ugly.”

Then, balefully, “Bruce is sending me to Newark to live amongst filth. Please say your goodbyes now as I am not much longer for this world.”

“I am not sending you to Newark, Tim, for God’s sake,” Bruce snapped.

“I’ll miss you, buddy,” Dick said solemnly, patting Tim’s back as he sat down on the kid’s legs. He offered Tim some of the popcorn.

“You didn’t put M&M’s in,” Tim accused, but ate a handful anyway.

“If you care,” Bruce said, coming back on the other  side of the couch and throwing himself into his recliner. A cat streaked away from where he’d been about to sit and Damian threw him a filthy look, “I tried to buy the Bats for your birthday last month, but the bastard Eliot cousin won’t sell.”

“Honestly, Bruce,” Jason said, leaning back, “How are you the richest man in Gotham and you don’t own a single team?”

“No one will sell to me,” Bruce said glumly. “I tried to get the Knights a few years back, when they were about to go bankrupt, but Stan Diner wouldn’t let me.”

“He’s a Cobblepot cousin,” Jason said, casually, turning back to his book.. “The Penguin funds him. It’s shady.”

Bruce frowned at him. “How did I not know that?”

“Mm,” Jason said, not looking up. “I know something you don’t. I have connections you don’t.  And you said the mob wouldn’t pay,” he lowers his voice in a stern imitation, “Mob boss isn’t a career path, Jason, you said, but look who’s got the insider knowledge.”

Bruce closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

Midway through his calming breath, Damian said, haughtily, “This sport is respectable.”

He opened his eyes to see a Gotham player dropping his glove and raining, admittedly admirable, rights on an opposing player.

“Have you never seen a hockey game?” Dick asked, frowning.

“God, I wish that were me,” Tim said, when Damian shook his head.

“Bruce,” Dick said, in that disappointed parent tone that always upset Bruce’s sense of order “You haven’t taken him to a game?”

“We haven’t had much time,” Bruce replied. Then, defensively, “I’ve taken him to many museums!”

“That’s barely culture!” Dick said.

“You take Dick to games?” Tim asked.

“He has box seats,” Jason put in.

Bruce wasn’t sure how this had turned on him.

“WE has box seats,” Bruce snapped. “Not me.”

“Bruce,” Tim said, looking at him with wide eyes that made him look sad and young. “You had box seats to the Bats and you never told me, the CEO of Wayne Enterprises?”

“He used to take me all the time,” Jason, the son whom he loved, said, betraying him,  while Dick shook his head sadly.

“Me too,” Dick added. “He’s got seats at the Knights, Buzzards, Colonials, Tim, he never told you?”

“No,” Tim said miserably, peeking at Bruce from his forlorn place on the couch. “Never.”

“They go to a WE family in a lottery system!” Bruce insisted.

“I am a WE family!” Tim said back. Then, abruptly, roared at the TV, “Fucking refs, I swear!”

“I guess it has been a while since we’ve all had a family outing to a sports endeavor,” Bruce admitted.

“Well don’t make it sound like textbook disease, B,” Dick said, rolling his eyes.

“The Bats play the Monarchs next week and I’m fully expecting to lose and also Tim Winston to fight at least three players,” Tim said.

“At the same time,” Jason added.

“I hope he gets his ass kicked,” Tim said.

“He won’t,” Jason said. “But he might get suspended again.”

“Boys,” Bruce said absently, thinking.

“You’ll take us, won’t you, B?” Tim said, suddenly pleading.

“I’ll call HR and make sure they haven’t gone for lottery yet,” Bruce agreed.

“A box seat,” Tim sighed wistfully, flopping back against the arm rest. “This whole time. To think I used to take Steph on dates to the nosebleeds.”

“Invite her,” Bruce said. “Barbara too,” he added at Dick.

“And Jonathan?” Damian asked, stiffly.

“If you want a Monarchs fan tagging along, sure,” Tim said, disgust evident.

“Tim,” Bruce scolded. Then, “Of course Jonathan can come. I’ll call Clark tomorrow.”

He looked around at his family, suddenly feeling warm. A day at the box seats at a Gotham Bats game would be good, fun bonding for them all.

“Fuck you, ref!” Tim yelled suddenly at the TV.

Jason shouted after, “And the horse you rode in on!”

Well, Bruce could hope.

[axonsandsynapses]

ok, I’m 5 years late on this, but…

I recently saw someone posting about how it was weird that the YJ animated universe put Gotham in Connecticut.

And well, given what most people know about CT is “rich people who don’t want to live in NYC go there” and “idk, Yale’s there somewhere, right?” that reaction makes sense. 

However, as someone who grew up there, I want you to know that Gotham city is 100% ABSOLUTELY in Connecticut. (Though I do want to note that @unpretty​ makes a very compelling argument for Michigan, and I will still respect you if you decide to go with that interpretation. Even if it’s wrong.)

More under the cut, because -cracks knuckles- I am a fucking nerd and am going to explain the shit out of this. 

This is going by the assumption that Gotham isn’t a replacement for NYC itself. (Since NYC has been turning up in DC comics for literal decades now, I figure that’s a pretty safe conclusion.) 

When they bother to offer a geographic location, the comics have generally placed Gotham in New Jersey. Writers often seem to treat it as in as in the greater tri-state metro area around NYC. (Though if you go with the occasional interpretation of Metropolis as being across the river from Gotham, you could make a decent argument that Gotham is the Camden, NJ to Metropolis’s Philadelphia). In modern comics, DC also tends to treat Gotham as more of a mid-sized city rather than a gigantic population center like NYC, Chicago, or LA. 

Now, if you’re placing Gotham in the greater tri-state area, New Jersey is a perfectly reasonable conclusion. There are a bunch of cities in the area you could argue for (Newark is a decent contender).

However. Here is a list of things we know about Gotham:

It’s a port city and something of a shipping hub (illicit shipments at the docks are a Batfamily speciality)

It boomed as an industrial center, but entered a steep economic decline in the mid-20th century as the economy started shifting (see: all the abandoned warehouses, and the fact that “Crime Alley” was an affluent district until around the time the Waynes were murdered)

While there are some incredibly poor neighborhoods, there is also an extremely wealthy population

Has a long history of Old, Rich Families (See: the Waynes, the Cobblepots, the Kanes…)

Has a history of incredibly corrupt politicians and city offices

Has both historical mob activity and current gang violence

You know which city fits all those criteria? Bridgeport, Connecticut.

Bridgeport is in Fairfield county, where, yes, there’s a bunch of rich people who don’t want to live in New York City. It has most of the richest towns in the state, as well as some of the richest communities in the entire country.

Bridgeport itself, however, is one of the poorest cities in Connecticut. It’s a historic city that used to thrive on shipping and manufacturing, but has never quite recovered from their decline. Housing prices are high, incomes are low, and the city has huge issues with poverty and violence. Its mayor famously went to jail on felony corruption charges, and then later managed to get himself reelected.

As of the 2010 census, the Bridgeport metro area had the greatest income inequality in the entire United States.

I would probably place Wayne Manor in Easton (in the top 10 CT towns for median household income), which is adjacent to Bridgeport and would allow decent batmobile access. 

But really, the #1 reason why Gotham is Bridgeport?

P.T. Barnum was its mayor. Yes, that P.T. Barnum. He based his circus there in the winters. There are streets named after him. 

The Joker wouldn’t be able to fucking resist.

[ferritin4]

Titans Together (3K Gen Jon Kent/Damian Wayne)

Here’s a thing I’ve never posted on here: DC comics fic! I’m one of those people that’s been reading comics since I was a kid, but never in a viciously completionist way. Then, as an adult, I went back and read the runs of things that were recommended or appealed to me, like, among many other things (buncha Batman, the Grayson run even though yes it kinda sucked, all of the new Midnighter before it got canceled), Super Sons. Which is hilarious, and the art is fabulous, and the characters are just perfect. Strong rec.

Like many people, I’m totally here for aged-up Jon Kent/Damian Wayne -- it’s like if Clark/Bruce were both more dramatic and less weird and awful about/to each other -- and I, personally, have a headcanon that Damian, though short now, really ought to grow up to be like 6′4″ and massive. Because his dad’s the tallest in the Batfam and very big, and his mom’s both tall and built for a woman. He has to be a low-grade celebrity at college: Bruce Wayne's son and a prodigy in every subject, a super intense giant scary ripped antisocial multimillionaire 21-year-old who's already halfway through his PhD and wears suits to class. 

And then I want Jon Kent to come visit him at Princeton and be a total fucking hayseed like, "Oh, whoa, wow! That building is so cool looking! What kind of style did you say it was, Dami?" in farm boy jeans and a Carhartt jacket and everyone is like whaaaat the fuuuuck

And that is this fic. (Yes. The art history is made up. That is intentional.)

—

Princeton was huge. Wow.

—

Jon didn’t expect it to be small — he had lived in Metropolis forever as a kid and he’d toured a couple colleges in Gotham, even. He knew Princeton wasn’t gonna be like, the size of Garden City Community College or something, but gosh. It was really, really big.

The administrative offices were right at the main entrance, and that was a good thing, because Jon needed a map, and some directions, and maybe a nametag?

“No, honey,” the woman at the desk said. Her desk plaque read Moira Reed and she looked kind of like his mom’s oldest cousin. “You don’t need a name tag, you just need to show me your ID and sign in so we know you’re on campus. Are you a prospective student?” she asked, taking his driver’s license. “Since you’re eighteen, you don’t need a guardian with you, but I would like an emergency contact, just in case.”

“Oh, sure,” Jon said. “And, no, I’m just visiting a friend who goes here. I live in Kansas,” he added, which — was probably super obvious from the whole Kansas state driver’s license thing. Duh. “You can, uh, tell, I guess. Thank you,” he said, taking it back.

She chuckled. “No worries. Do you need directions to their dorm? Or do they live off campus nearby?”

“No, thank you. He lives in grad student housing, I think?” Jon said. “But I do need directions to —” Jon pulled out his notebook “— Waterstone Hall? For ‘Art History 466’?”

Moira had a map, and a Sharpie, and a very, very patient smile, and Jon thanked her like five times before she kicked him out and told him to enjoy his class.

—

“Good lord,” an older woman’s voice said to Moira as Jon left the office. “Wasn’t he just the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“They have manners in Kansas!” Moira said, laughing. “Maybe he should teach a class.”

—

Waterstone Hall was a beautiful brick building with small, well-kept classrooms with sky-blue walls and new whiteboards. Jon poked his head into a couple of empty rooms before he found 343B.

The seats were angled like a movie theater, pretty steep, and Jon picked a seat about halfway back, on the aisle in case anybody needed him to move. There were maybe twenty students already there, but he didn’t know how many were supposed to come. Class didn’t start for — five more minutes, according to the super fancy old analog clock on the wall.

Everybody was pretty dressed up, except Jon. Did they dress up for class at Princeton? Maybe; maybe it was like private school except without uniforms. The kid next to him was wearing a sweater vest over a collared white button-down shirt, and the girl directly in front of him was wearing some kind of dark blue fancy-looking shirt and pearls.

Jon shrugged off his jacket and put his notebook on the desk in front of him. His flannel had a collar, but he didn’t think that really counted for anything at Princeton.

Somebody was looking at him.

“Hi,” Jon said to the sweater vest kid, who was staring at him like he could see straight through Jon’s head.

“Who are you?” Sweater Vest said. Not, like, meanly. More like Jon was a raccoon or something that had wandered into the classroom.

Or something. Jon didn’t know if they had a lot of raccoons in New Jersey.

“I’m Jon,” Jon said. “I’m just visiting a friend, and I thought I’d sit in on class. Don’t worry,” he added, smiling, “I won’t try to lead discussion group or anything.”

“This class doesn’t have a discussion group,” Sweater Vest said, still staring. “You’re visiting a friend? Who goes here? And they told you to come to this class?”

The girl in front of them swiveled around. “No,” she said. “They must have meant a different class.”

“Art History 466?” Jon said. Maybe he was in the wrong room and this was some — but what class would be bad to sit in on?

Sweater Vest’s stare got, if possible, even more bug-eyed.

“Your friend is an asshole,” he said. “You gotta get out of here, kid, I’m not joking. Just… go to a coffeeshop for an hour or something, seriously, you have like sixty seconds before —”

“Shh!” the girl in front of them hissed suddenly, and oh hey, class was about to start.

—

The online course catalog had had a little description of the class and then links to a bunch of weekly readings, all posted and numbered and dated, and then, right under the all-caps, fancy bold lettering for ART HISTORY 466, it had said Instructor of Record: Damian Wayne.

—

Most of Jon’s classes at community college were hands-on. He was there mostly to learn how to do upkeep on the farm and maintenance on the equipment. Jon wasn’t a bad student — he always did his homework — but he liked the chance to move around while he learned.

His mom liked to say that Jon could sit still for about forty-five seconds, if he tried really hard.

He folded his hands in his lap and tried, as hard as he could, to hold still.

Damian was wearing a suit, of course — he had started wearing suits every day, like his dad, when he turned sixteen and went to college, and maybe that was why everybody was dressed up, maybe class had a dress code. If anyone would make their college class have a dress code, it would totally be Damian, a PhD student who still showed up to teach art history in a ridiculously fancy suit that made him look just like his dad.

Jon had been glad when Damian got taller than him, and even gladder when Damian had finally filled out. It made him look so much more like Bruce, so much less like Talia, and that, well. Jon didn’t need to be the world’s greatest anything to know how important that was to Damian.

Damian still had her sharp features, her olive skin, her cruel streak, of course, but it sure put Jon’s heart at ease to know Damian didn’t have to look in the mirror each morning and see only her face.

Damian put his bag down on the big desk at the front and started taking out some papers, as Jon bit his lip and tried to modulate his breathing so he sounded like everyone else in class, so he wasn’t forgetting to take a breath for too long, because he could forget, easy, when he was distracted, but Damian would totally notice and Jon didn’t want him to figure it out early, he wanted to him to notice when —

Damian looked up and over the class, just a quick, dismissive glance, and Jon could practically hear the gravel crunching as his eyes ground to a halt on Jon.

Sweater Vest stopped breathing; the girl in front of them sucked in in a huge rush of air. No one had been talking, but now no one was moving, just a roomful of terrified, pounding hearts, and oh my God, Damian, Jon thought fondly, you total freaking lunatic.

Jon smiled. Damian’s eyebrow quirked, very slightly, and he looked away, going back to his papers.

Sweater Vest breathed out, slow and shaky.

Class began.

It was interesting. They were mostly talking about German and French weaving and some wall paintings — murals, duh, right — but from like, 900CE. There was a projector and Damian had put up a couple pictures of the big murals so they could look at them while he talked.

Damian knew his stuff. It wasn’t shocking; he’d written like four books about this that Jon knew of, and anyway, Damian had known more than anyone else about pretty much everything for like, the duration of Jon’s entire life.

“The repeating patterns you see here became more geometrically constrained starting around 955CE,” Damian was saying. “They also became more consistent both intra- and inter-artist. Ms. Braxton,” he said, fixing his eyes on a small, dark-skinned girl in the second row, “why is that?”

“Uh,” she said. “Is it because of the access to, uh, horsehair —”

“No,” he said. “Mr. Kendry?”

Mr. Kendry was a tall, lanky boy with pale skin and paler hair who was sitting five seats over from Jon. He had a fancy leather jacket on in class, which Jon had always thought was rude — weren’t you supposed to take your coat off inside?

“Because of the invention of higher mathematics,” Mr. Kendry said, shooting Ms. Braxton a disdainful look.

“In 955CE?” Damian said musingly. “What a charmingly Eurocentric perspective.”

“What?” Mr. Kendry said, wary.

“Who exactly invented the mathematics you’re discussing?” Damian said.

“I, uh,” Mr. Kendry babbled. “I’m not sure. This is art history, I mean, I didn’t —”

“Congratulations,” Damian said, in a voice like ice. “You’ve managed to put forth a single sentence, misleading at best, and yet you cannot even explain your own thought processes, much less provide any facts to back up your very incorrect theory.”

Jon leaned over to Sweater Vest, who flinched away from him, then took a breath and leaned back in.

“Do people do the reading for this class?” Jon whispered.

“What?” Sweater Vest whispered back. “Yeah, of —”

“Kent,” Damian snapped, “do you have something to add?”

Clothing rustled against seats; papers shifted under fingertips as twenty pairs of eyes slowly turned to stare at Jon.

“Yeah, I guess,” Jon said. “I just thought that you had said that that kind of geometry wasn’t really introduced until like fifty years after this.”

“I had said?” Damian asked, locking onto him. “When did I say that?”

It was a real question. Jon could tell — of course he could tell, like, it had only been eight years. Sometimes Damian asked rhetorical questions so he could go on and on about whatever point he was trying to make and sometimes he asked real questions that he wanted an answer to. He just wasn’t super good at making those two things sound different.

“In the reading?” Jon said. “Um, on page,” he flipped through his notebook, “fourteen? You said that, uh, the use of repeating patterns got better starting in the mid-900s, but that, then, on page twenty-one, you said that people had tried to introduce new kinds of math like, a bunch of times but nobody really paid any attention until King Rasbin IV and he didn’t start being king until 1005. I had to look that up, you didn’t say when he was king from,” Jon said, looking back up to meet Damian’s eyes.

The classroom was silent as a grave. Jon could hear each timid, careful breath from each student, the beat of every heart.

Damian was silent, too, which was way weirder. Come on, Jon thought. Did Damian really think he’d show up to Damian’s class and not even have done the reading? Damian had literally written the textbook.

“So it sounds like the art stuff got better before they really accepted the math stuff,” Jon added, in case he’d been confusing, not to Damian — who definitely knew what he meant to say; he almost always did — but to everyone else, who all still looked like Jon had turned them to stone.

Damian’s gaze shifted slightly, less hard and more impatient, and oh shit, Jon knew that look. Damn it.

“Um,” Jon said, scratching at his hair. That was all he knew about anything, Damian, geez. Call on someone else.

Keep talking, Damian’s expression said. Come on, Kent. You’re almost there.

He knew that look.

“Maybe, did the artists — oh! Were they trying to figure it out?” Jon said. “Like, maybe they were trying to make up this kind of geometry on their own, but King Rasbin, you said he liked this art style, he had a bunch of people painting his palace, so maybe, did he hear about the new math stuff and then go to his artists and say, like, ‘guys, this is like what you’re trying to do? But better, so you should try this instead?’”

The left side of Damian’s mouth twitched up; his brows found a distinctly satisfied tilt. Jon grinned.

“King Rasbin IV,” Damian said mildly. “King Rasbin was a powerless puppet ruler who was killed at fifteen. Otherwise, yes.”

The room, collectively, breathed out.

“Cool,” Jon said. Damian raised both eyebrows. “Not the puppet king thing,” Jon said, rolling his eyes. “The art thing! Cool that it was so popular that the artists convinced everyone to pay attention to the new math stuff.”

“Yes. Although in most academic circles it’s still considered a theory without clear evidence,” Damian told him.

“Oh,” Jon said.

“Don’t worry, I have a paper under review which will address that deficit,”  Damian said, flashing just a hint of teeth. “Unsurprisingly, some people aren’t very good at gathering evidence.”

Jon laughed.

“Don’t laugh at him!” Sweater Vest whispered furiously.

“Mr. Mitchell,” Damian said. Sweater Vest’s head snapped up.

“Yes,” Sweater Vest said weakly.

“In 1132CE, following the death of King Rasbin V, Guillaume Res wrote a treatise on the new bascura technique,” Damian said. “What were its immediate and long-term implications for palace artworks?”

Sweater Vest opened his mouth, then closed it.

Damian turned to his desk and started rifling through the papers. Sweater Vest looked like he was going to throw up.

“Mr. Mitchell, I will give you five seconds to produce something resembling a coherent, informed answer,” Damian pulled a packet of papers out of the pile, “before I discard your midterm paper and give you a zero.”

“Uh,” Sweater Vest said.

“Five,” Damian said. “Four.”

“If you don’t know, just guess something!” Jon whispered.

“Shut up, Kent,” Damian said, agate-hard. “You’re not allowed to help him. Three.”

“Aaauuuhh? I, um,” Sweater Vest said.

“Two,” Damian said. “One.”

“What’s the point of this? He obviously doesn’t know!” Jon said.

“You’re right,” Damian said, “he doesn’t.” He dropped the paper into the trash can by the desk. “Moving on.”

“Geez,” Jon muttered when Damian turned his back to them to advance the slideshow.

“You need to shut up, for real,” Sweater Vest told him, “before Wayne comes up here and stabs you.”

“Pff,” Jon said, just loud enough to carry. “Stab me? He could try.”

Damian’s spine straightened, briefly, but he just pushed a button and a new painting came up on the projector screen.

—

“Dismissed,” Damian said, finally, and the room burst into a rush of noise, closing books and scraping chairs.

“Thanks,” Sweater Vest said to Jon, not at all sarcastically.

“Huh?” Jon said.

“You distracted him for a while,” Sweater Vest said. “Thanks.”

“Uh, okay,” Jon said, and then, “you’re welcome,” because that’s what you said when somebody said thank you.

“Yep,” Sweater Vest said, standing up. “Now flee while you can.”

Jon didn’t, though; he was planning to wait until everyone was gone to go down to the front, but about half the students were still there when Damian snapped his bag shut and said, “Is something amiss? Did one of our fathers send you?”

Nobody else was near him. Nobody else would have heard him. He wasn’t talking to anyone else.

Jon got up and collected his jacket and notebook and walked down to the board as fast as he could without raising suspicion, or at least eyebrows.

“No, of course not,” Jon said, coming up behind Damian. He almost leaned on the desk next to where Damian was standing, but then he’d be like, one foot away from Damian and everyone else was giving them a good ten foot clearance, easy.

Definitely because of Damian, not because of Jon. Jon stopped a few feet away and put his hands in his pockets.

Damian shot him a look.

“If something bad was happening, I would call you,” Jon said. “I was just in the area because my friend Leah from home is moving to an apartment in Trenton to live near her mom, so —”

“Most people just say, ‘I was in the neighborhood,’” Damian said.

“Okay, fine,” Jon said. “I was in the neighborhood.”

Damian turned to face him, frowning. “Then what’s wrong with you, Kent? You’re not normally this standoffish.”

“What?” Jon said. “I’m not — you are, and anyway, all your students are still here! I don’t wanna be like, ‘hey buddy!’ and then you have to explain why you have some random kid who doesn’t even go here showing up and being weird.”

“Did you hit your head on the flight here? I don’t explain my interpersonal interactions to my undergraduates,” Damian said.

“Oh,” Jon said, feeling slightly silly. “Right.”

“Did you truly think I cared about them?” Damian said snidely. “I haven’t gotten that soft in my old age.”

“You’re not that old,” Jon said.

“Old enough,” Damian said, haughty, and Jon said, “I’ve seen you older,” because he was never ever letting Damian live down the time he got turned into a tiny little eighty-year-old man.

Damian narrowed his eyes and gave him a look that could cut glass.

“Anyway,” Jon said, “hey buddy! I was in the neighborhood and I thought I’d stop by,” and then, while Damian was still disoriented by being super mad at him, he stepped in for hug.

Somebody dropped a whole armful of books.

“Gah!” Damian said. “This is not what I was encouraging you —”

Jon patted him on the back and let him go. “Are you done? I’m starving.”

“Of course you are,” Damian said. “Fine. Come on, the chefs at the dining hall should be preparing my dinner. They’ll make you an extra serving if we catch them early enough.”

“I can just eat normal cafeteria food, or whatever,” Jon said.

“You could eat garbage off the ground,” Damian said. “I can’t. Let’s go.”

—

NOW THERE IS A SEQUEL! Did you want that? Well, I did.

[bluboothalassophile]

kisscam? what kisscam? I need kisscam!

Hello,

Kisscam is apparently going to be a multific mini story for the HfaB stories, so I hope you enjoy Part 1! =)

Knights vs. Mets…

It was a muggy July morning for Gotham City, the Fourth ofJuly weekend was the first family outing, since the controlled, leaked feeds ofthe wedding. Somehow Jason had been dragged to this outing, which was anagitation that had him checking on the news every five minutes and an Arkhamsecurity check (which courtesy of Harley and Ivy, he had), monitoring the Joker’scell. Roy was even here, mostly to ensure he was here, Jason had managed tofinagle Roy out of the Starling Rocket colors for the game, wrangling Roy intothe Knights colors. Terry was perched on Jason’s shoulders as he stood in thecrowd feeling agitated as he scanned the crowd.

Naturally Jason was in the Knights colors, as only any trueGothamite would be, and he’d beat the shit out of anyone who talked down abouthis team.

“This is dull,” Kate huffed out.

“You didn’t have to come,” Selina pointed out sweetly as shewalked to the group, he smiled a bit at her. She had taken the role ofmothering him seriously, and he kind of liked it as she looped her arm aroundhim.

“My cousin is always welcomed,” Bruce said as he walked intothe group.

“Thanks B,” Kate said reluctantly. Jay kind of got why B wasso intent on inviting Kate into the family now, a year ago she had kind of gonerogue after being kicked out of West Point for Conduct Unbecoming of anOfficer. Something about her unsettled Jason, but what was infuriating was thedouble standard B had for her. Another reason to dislike Kate, but Jason wastrying desperately to be a bigger person. Failing.

“Hey, we’re here!” Dick appeared grinning as he ran to them,holding Kori’s hand. “Hey Roy!” Dick greeted as he held Mar'i tight to his hip.

“We’re just waiting for Drake and the girls now,” Damiansneered, Jason caught Helena with his foot before leaning over and hoisting herup.

“Kitten,” he mused holding the giggling kid face level.Helena’s curls were everywhere, and he chuckled as she securely grabbed hisGotham Knights jersey before she climbed up to his shoulder.

“My Jay!” Terry shrieked.

“No screaming Duck!” Jason warned the older toddler.

“We’re here!” Tim announced.

“Why am I here?” Raven demanded.

“Cause we said so, and we’re the Waffle Queens, incompletewithout our third Queen.” Stephanie announced.

“Traitor,” Jason stated seeing his best friend dressed in aNew York Met’s ballcap and jersey, mini shorts and boots. The demoness frownedat him and he glared in retaliation.

“I will remind you heathens I am a New Yorker.” Ravensnapped.

“What would your mothers say!” Selina gasped.

“Harley’s from Staten Island,” Raven remarked. “And Ivyasked who’d want to be from Gotham. Vic said it was only slightly better thanPhilly, but we’ll leave the semantics of that alone.”

“I can’t believe my best friend is a Mets fan! I’m gonna bemugged by the end of the day!” Jason grimaced.

“Your husband is a Rockets fan!” Roy chimed up.

“Rockets suck worse than the Meteors,” Jason snapped.

“I’d be insulted, but I can’t be,” Roy sighed.

“This is normal?” Duke sputtered.

“What about it kiddo?” Selina purred as they started movingthrough the lines.

“You’re all billionaires,” Duke said.

“Actually, B is, we just mooch off him,” Stephanie retorted.

“Only moocher here is you Steph,” Tim countered.

“What about Rae!?” Stephanie balked.

“The Queen of Hell is no moocher!” Jason stated.

“That’s right, besides, I mooch off Vic, so I’m not B’s,” Ravenresponded.

“Naturally, besides, the Queen of Hell is far too good forus mere mortals, especially the Drama Queen,” Jason said slinging his free armover her shoulders. Raven’s arm wrapped around his waist then.

“You’re one to talk,” Dick said.

“I’m not Drama Queen!” Jason snapped.

“Just a Damned Prince of Gotham,” Tim snickered.

“Prince and Queen!” Cass giggled.

“Hardy-Har-Har, No.” Jason snapped at the two idiots.

“You’re an imbecile Todd.”

“Only for getting caught,” Jason rolled his eyes as theywere now being directed into the stadium. Roy shoved his shoulder and Jasonrolled his eyes, he was very reluctant to go to this, but he was eternallygrateful to Roy for coming along. Though Roy did kind of owe him for all theArrow stuff Jason went to. But this was all besides the point. Raven and Roywere helping his agitation levels stay somewhat reasonable, he still wished he hadbrought Ace; the dog helped a lot for his agitation levels. The Pit was boilingbeneath his skin as a conscious itch he wanted to scratch but he was ignoringit and his craving for a cigarette since he was in the presence of the kids.

“At least you’re not a Yankees fan,” Jason resigned.

“I’m the Devil’s Spawn, not the Devil, Jay,” Raven remarked.

“You know, statistically speaking, the Yankees could beunder a Devil’s contract, their stats are just way too good for normalbaseball,” Tim piped up.

“The Devil has owned that team since the start,” Ravendismissed.

“What!?” Stephanie and Duke sputtered.

“You didn’t honestly think that Lucifer would go into thepro baseball business if he didn’t have a winning horse team did you?” Ravenasked.

“You’re joking right? She’s joking,” Duke demanded as helooked at Cass for answers.

Cass shrugged.

“That explains a lot, you don’t even know,” Roy sighed.

“Dick we must smile, the paparazzi are here,” Koriannounced, immediately Jason pulled his cap lower as Terry giggled.

“No, Kori, we’re here for a ballgame, and family time, screwthe paparazzi!” Dick snapped. For the first time in Jason’s memorable life hewas eternally grateful to Dick for that simple statement. But then again,paparazzi had screwed up his and Kori’s honeymoon. The trip to Madeira wascancelled entirely because of paparazzi and the million dollar photo bribe tosee the happy couple intimate. Dick had been furious. Especially when Kori hadbeen cornered in the private airport’s bathroom by a male photographer andreporter wanting answers about their marriage. They had now postponed to attendWally and Artemis’ wedding, then sneak out of San Diego for their Honeymoonwhich would be about October rather than the original June date now. Jay almostfelt bad for Dick and Kori, but he also knew they were reluctant to leave Mar'ialone for three weeks with B and the family as her powers were manifesting morerapidly now.

“Oh, Jay, chilidogs!” Selina gasped, and he looked at hismom’s pointing. His stomach growled a bit at the sight before him.

“Just like old time’s Jaylad,” Bruce said softly, andJason’s eyes flicked to B’s. B was trying, Jason didn’t know how to take thatthough, but today he’d give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“Those are disgusting, do you even know what they do tothose animals!?” Damian hissed.

“No, and we get you don’t like meat but respect that we doand don’t tell us,” Raven said.

“No waffles,” Cass pouted.

“We’re at a ball game, not a diner!” Tim stated.

“We’re going if the Knight’s lose.”

“Well in that case we’ll be there this evening, Dick’s paying!”Duke shouted.

“WHAT!?”

“So long as it’s not me paying I’m in!” Roy declared.

“You’re a traitor, the Knights are going to win, the Metssuck.”

“Jay, My Mets Might Suck, but Jay, your Knights are fuckingcursed.”

“Did you curse them? That would be cheating if you did.”

“Do I look like I have a goat on had to do cursing?”

“What’s a goat have to do with anything?”

“How do you think the Cubs got cursed?” she demanded. Jason scowledat that as he walked through the security, he was vastly relieved that they didn’tnotice his ceramic knives. Raven squeezed his arm as they walked into thestadium, he kind of felt relieved having Raven here, and he knew that wasn’ther empathy.

“You better not curse my Knights,” Selina snapped at Raven.

“Again, I don’t have a goat.”

“Still,” Selina warned.

“Why’s it always goats?”

“Goats are naturally magically endowed, dumber than a box ofrocks, but the amount of magic in them, it’s so dark, tasty too if cookedright.” Raven informed them with a smile.

“I Hate Magic,” Bruce muttered.

“I love Magic, the world needs more Magic.”

“Not in Gotham,” Bruce warned her.

“Please, Gotham is a cesspool of the dark powers of theuniverse.”

“Really!?” Dick demanded.

“You’re surprised?”

“No, not really,” Tim omitted, holding Tammy’s hand.

“I hate Gotham,” Jason muttered. Raven elbowed him and hehissed at the jostling of his ribs. A few hits from Artemis sparring hadcracked them, he felt the burn of the Lazarus Pit over them. “Little bird, you’relucky you’re cute, but touch my ribs again and I’ll make your life hell.”

“I can fix them,” she offered.

“Don’t,” he warned, he could feel the Pit too close to thesurface. Raven’s head snapped over and he saw her eyes pulse white before hefrowned.

“The Pit?” she asked softly.

“Let’s just enjoy the ballgame.” He gestured for her tocontinue forward.

“Oh look Mar'i cotton candy!” Kori announced.

“Come on let’s get cotton candy!” Kori announced, Ravenchuckled as she caught Terry, Lian and Helena ran after Kori with Roy shoutingfor them to wait up.

This wasn’t so bad, Jay decided. It was just a day, at aballfield with a couple of mooks, and nobody would care, and Gotham wasn’tgoing to hell. It wasn’t a bad day, not yet. Jay could do this.

“You’re an imbecile,” Damian announced.

Jason rolled his eyes at that.

“Dude, do you ever shut your mouth?” Duke demanded.

“Twerp, hit puberty and a growth spurt then maybe you cancall me an imbecile, and only if you can beat me in a fight.” Jason warned thekid.

“No killing!” Bruce snapped.

“B, settle down, it’s just brothers, being brothers,” Selinacaught B by the shoulders and Jason snickered. “Besides, my favorite son wouldnever harm his little brothers.”

“Yes, yes I would, I just wouldn’t get caught.” Jason said smugly.Many multiverse ventures had been this way, and when he had been cornered or caught,he’d beaten the shit out of them.

“See, we’re fine!”

“That’s not encouraging!” Tim balked.

“We can always beat up Drake.” Damian offered.

“We’re not beating up Tim!” Dick shouted.

“I could take him,” Tim decided.

“I side with Tim.” Jay decided.

“What?”

“Man if there’s going to be a war then Tim’s going to win,only way I lose is if all the coffee in the world disappears,” Jason decided.

“It’s scary how you decided that,” Tammy decided.

“Just saying, Him and the Little Bird together, worlddomination.” Jay shrugged.

“Nah man, Rae and Alfred,” Duke corrected.

“No, that’s universal domination,” Tim corrected.

“Don’t get them teaming up, evil will run then we’ll have nomore waffles!” Stephanie balked.

Cass nodded in agreement.

“I as the cook for the Queen of Hell can assure you that thewaffle supply will never cease to be,” Jason stated.

“So you admit you and Raven are an item!?” Tammy squealed.

“No, I’m the Adviser and the Cook.”

“What am I?” Dick demanded.

“The Fool?” Jason offered.

“Why do you get a say in the Queen’s court?” Stephanie pouted.

“Cause I was self-appointed. The Vice President positionwasn’t available to have also,” Jason shrugged.

“Well I want in,” Tammy decided.

“Me too,” Stephanie decided.

“Yes!” Cass grinned.

“You want in on Hell’s Court?” Tim sputtered.

“Why not.”

“Dibs on being the Fool!” Dick announced.

“Who’s a Fool?” Raven asked.

“Batty family wants in on the Court of Hell,” Tim smiled ather.

“Well, in that case I have a Prime Minster, a Queen’sConsort, Vice President, Advisor/Cook, and Captain of the Guard, and a WineBearer.”

“That’s not how a court is built,” Bruce said.

“I’m the Queen, I make the rules.”

“I’m aunt of the Queen.”

“NO!” Damian shouted.

“Why not!?” Selina sputtered.

“No incest,” Damian stated.

“Again with this, Damian, it’s not happening!” Ravensnapped.

“Seems like it already did,” Kori giggled.

“I will kick you.” Raven warned.

“I’m the sister to the Queen,” Kori purred.

“Familiar claims can be revoked at any time due to annoyances,”Raven warned.

“Doesn’t work that way sunshine,” Jason grinned.

“Hey, Rae, if everyone has a part in this Court, what am Iand what’s Donna?”

“Well, Donna’s an ambassador, obviously. And you can be aconsort if you want.”

“Oh! So I get to be sexy arm candy!?” Roy grinned.

“Yeah,” she shrugged.

“I like that, I’m the Queen of Hell’s Consort!” Roy grinned.

“You have no power, you nimrod.” Damian snapped.

“So? I just wanna be paid to look pretty!”

“I Princess!” Lian declared.

“Befitting,” Jason shrugged.

“I’m Kitten!”

“Can I be Duck Dodgers!?” Terry squealed delightfully.

“The Court can use a Duck Dodgers,” Raven decidedthoughtfully.

“This is getting seriously out of hand,” Bruce decided.

“No killjoys are permitted in the Court of Hell,” Ravendecided.

“Young lady,” he started.

“You will address the Queen as your highness or your grace,”Tim snickered.

“Oh, I like that! Your Grace! Makes me sound important!”

“I will sooner call you a slew of curses than your highness.”Jason warned.

“You are permitted to call me your grace, little bird,sunshine, but call me princess and I’ll break your nose; again.” Raven warned.

“Deal.”

“That’s not fair!” Tim whined. “The rest of us benevolentsubjects have to call you ‘your highness’ why not him?”

“Because he’s a bastard,” Raven decided. Jason chuckled ashe slung his arm around her shoulders, Raven smirked as she took a bite ofcotton candy.

“You two sure you ain’t a couple!?” Tammy chuckled.

“We are secretly dating and have a secret love child named Alicewho resides in the realm Wonderland for her safety and our sanity while we area diplomatic envoy for the Green Lantern Corps of fuck ups. Obviously we’re notdating,” Jason snapped as he held up a hand for the beer guy who was walkingtheir way.

“You two act awfully couple-ly.”

“Trust us, we’re not a couple,” Raven said.

“I don’t trust you two,” Stephanie and Cass announced.

“Too bad.”

“Jay!” Terry shouted.

“Duck.”

“Team!” Terry pointed.

“Good call little man.”

“Jay?”

“Hm?”

“Can I be Robin?”

“No!” Damian snapped.

“Well, maybe in the future but you’re too little little bro,”Dick chuckled ruffling Terry’s hair.

“I wanna be Robin!” Mar'i stated.

“Over My Dead Body,” Dick stated.

“She is not fragile Dick,” Kori protested.

“She’s my little girl!”

“So!?” Kori demanded.

“Girls… can’t be Robin!” Dick decided quickly.

“Excuse me!” Stephanie squawked.

“What about that blonde who was Robin!? I have clippings ofher!” Tammy stated.

“Robin is always a boy, Mar'i will not be Robin.” Dickstated.

“That’s sexist and we’ll be having none of that!” Jaydecided. “Mar'i can be whatever she wants to be when she is old enough to makeinformed decisions.”

B flinched a bit at this.

“Hey look, the game is about to start,” Selina cheered.

“Yes!” Raven grinned.

“Finally, beer is getting warm.”

“I miss beer.”

“You like being sober.”

“I like being sober.”

“If anyone is a couple it’s Roy and Jay,” Raven decided.

“You dare to call me and my husband out in public!” Roy gasped,grasping his heart.

“You two have a kid and a dog together with a business, I’msurprised the paparazzi hasn’t used this information to shatter young girlsheart’s everywhere!” Raven mocked.

“But you know you’re my only Queen right?” Roy asked.

“You’re a consort, I demand loyalty, not fidelity,” Ravenoffered.

“And this is why we bow to the Queen,” Roy and Jay decidedin unison.

“Oh little brother,” Cass giggled.

“The answer is no. And remains no.”

“Jay and Rae sitting in a tree k-i-s-s-i-n-g!” Stephanie andCass started.

“I think you mean Roy.” Roy said.

“Buddy, I’m not into redheads,” Jason warned.

“So what darling!? I’m not into busted noses.”

“Are you insinuating there’s something wrong with my face?” Jasondemanded in mock outrage. He was kind of enjoying this.

“Yup.”

“That’s okay, you have a handsome face if I ever saw one,”Tammy promised.

“You’re stealing my girl now!? Get your own!” Tim shoutedhugging Tammy beside him. Jason snickered.

“He’s got Rae,” Damian, Tammy, and Stephanie shouted.

“NO!” He and Raven shouted.

“JayRae forever!” Cass and Stephanie swooned.

“And this is why I don’t come around home.”

“You should come around more often,” Duke said.

“I don’t even know you.”

“That’s the point, besides this isn’t so bad,” Dukeshrugged.

“I renounce all ties to this family and wish to resume beinga member of the dead,” Jason announced. Raven whacked him up the back side ofhis head.

“Rethink that you bastard.”

“Awe! They have pet names for each other, so adorable,” Dickcooed.

“I will shoot you asshole.”

“I’ve already shot him!” Kori giggled.

“Atta girl,” Jay cheered.

“You are the biggest feminist,” Roy observed.

“Women rule the world,” he shrugged.

“And that is why he’s my favorite child,” Selina decided.

“What about Helena?” B sputtered.

“The little ones are just developing personalities babe, we’llpick when they’re older,” Selina mused.

“What about me!?” Dick sputtered.

“Suck it up boy blunder.”

“You trip one time and you never let it go,” Dick muttered.

“You’re too perfect child,” Tim decided.

“I’m superior,” Damian decided.

“You know, your Napoléon complex is getting out of hand.” Jasonstated.

“Be nice,” Raven waved him off.

“He has time to grow into it.” Stephanie smiled.

“Well, there is a quarter chance he could be a dwarfforever,” Tim observed.

“He’s already taller than you, so lose that hope that you’llbe taller than someone.”

“I’m taller than Raven!” Tim shouted.

“I’m not family.”

“You’re Jay’s wife!” Tammy decided.

“And Now Stand For Our National Anthem!” the announcershouted, Jason caught Terry and dropped the kid on his shoulders as he pulledhis cap off while standing.

[jewishaxelwalker]

Driving Faster, Windows Down

It’s that Lyft driver AU I said I’d write back in 2017, finally finished after 10 months. Also available on AO3.

It was an abnormally slow Friday night.

Axel’d been driving around aimlessly for a while, patiently waiting to be pinged for a fare, but no one was biting. Keystone had a good public transit system, and its people were abnormally obsessed with cars, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t tourists out there that’d rather take a Lyft than a taxi. Maybe they just hadn’t made the switch from Uber yet. Like come on, read your Facebook sidebar sometime.

His phone made a noise, and Axel jumped. It was just Joey calling, so he put him on speaker.

“You’re on with Ron.” He deadpanned, and on the other end of the line, Joey snorted.

“Dead night?”

“I’d get more action in a graveyard, dude.”

Joey laughed out loud, and Axel pulled into a Shell station. No need to roll and waste when he wasn’t getting fares to fill his gas tank. He and Joey chatted for a bit about the usual junk; Axel’s online classes were inane, Joey’s brother was still bugging him about moving to Gotham so he could use him as a free babysitter (”Seriously dude, how the hell is your niece so cute? Jack is as pug-ugly as they come.”), Kesha’s Instagram feed, the Combines having yet another fantastically losing season-

And then his phone pinged with a ride request. Three blocks away. Single passenger, some shitty little motel not a mile from the airport.

“Gotta go, man. I think I’m about to be some flight attendant’s ride of triumph.” He hated the other term. Getting laid was nothing to be ashamed of.

“Oh, sweet. If she’s hot and heading to Gotham, I’ll be on the next flight.” Axel shook his head, switching the bluetooth back to his Google Play. Hitting on customers was how Joey’d gotten dismissed from his last two jobs. He loved his best friend, but thinking with his dick was gonna get Joey killed someday.

And failing to pay attention to who he was picking up was going to get Axel killed. He didn’t even glance at the passenger notification until he’d pulled into the motel parking lot. He was expecting a blonde Cindy or a brunette Sharona, not a redheaded Owen.

“Axel?” The guy asked as he climbed into the back seat, and Axel swallowed hard.

“The one and only.” Owen grinned, and there was a slight chance Axel gunned it a bit too hard on the way out of the parking lot.

Axel liked driving for Lyft because he got to meet a lot of new and interesting people he could subject to his musical taste. Yeah, some of his passengers were hotter than others, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be getting the Indie Girl Kitchen treatment.

“You got any preference, or can I just put on whatever?” He asked, flicking through his playlists as they waited at the light. Owen frowned.

“Maybe something chill? I’ve been stressing out of my mind for the last two hours, and I don’t want to look like a psycho when I get there.” Axel immediately flicked over to artists. Fuck the playlists, Owen was getting The Valley. Yeah it was a breakup album, but it was also the best thing he’d heard all year and it relaxed him like nothing else.

Owen sank back into his seat as the album started. Axel wondered if he should interrupt what was clearly going to be a pivotal moment in his life with small talk, but Owen beat him to it.

“Is it a slow night or something? You were there less than three minutes after I called for a ride.” Axel shrugged, glancing up at the rearview mirror. Owen was watching him intently.

“It’s always slow in this town but yeah, tonight was dead. Pretty much the only people that use Lyft are teenagers with no cars and tourists. Driving is a huge thing in Keystone.” His eyes wandered to the mirror again, but Owen was looking out the window now. “Where you from?” The accent had a northeastern touch to it, but Axel couldn’t quite place the state.

“Oh, uh, Gotham. But if tonight goes good, I’m probably gonna end up moving here.” Owen cut himself off by sticking his index finger in his mouth, chewing on the nail. “Hey, can I like, vent something? Taxicab Confessions style?” Axel nodded, not wanting to interrupt what was bound to be an excellent bit of wordvomit. “So uh, my foster mom died two weeks ago.”

“Holy shit man, I’m sorry-“ He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, berating himself. No more outbursts. “But go on.” Owen bit his lip, staring down at his hands.

“My foster mom died two weeks ago. I mean, I’m 23, I’ve been on my own for a few years now, but we still kept in touch. She raised me from when I was 8. She was my mom. I was in her will and everything. What she left me was, uh, well aside from some money and a few of her things, she left me the ability to find my dad. My biological dad. He’s been living in Keystone for like ten years now, and she tracked him down ages ago when she found out that he’d been looking for me. She told him that I was healthy and happy and not to fuck up my life by coming into it unless he meant to stay and raise me.” They were lucky for the traffic. Some Kinda Wonderful slid into You Can Cry Tomorrow, and Owen cleared his throat.

“I can turn this off, if it’s bothering you.” Axel offered, but Owen just shook his head.

“No, I like it. Anyway, I got in contact with him last week. He told me he’d book me a flight as soon as he could, because he’d been waiting years to meet me. Which leads to today. I told him not to pick me up at the airport, that I’d meet him for dinner somewhere, and I’m kinda freaking out? I don’t even know what he looks like. I mean, what if we look nothing alike, and he loses it because I look like the mom I’ve never met? What if we look a lot alike and it turns out I’m gonna age like shit? And those are just the petty, superficial fears!  Like, what if his family has a history of cancer or depression or erectile dysfunction or something?”

Axel started when he realized that Owen’s question didn’t seem to be rhetorical. 

“I think it might be a good idea to just breathe, Owen. Start with the simple stuff, like how you both probably loved Pacific Rim, then get down to the medical histories.” Owen was looking at him again, his mouth quirked in a crooked little grin. “What?”

“I totally loved Pacific Rim. I lost my shit when Cherno Alpha got taken down by Leatherback.” Axel could fall in love with this man. He could. Owen wasn’t protesting The Valley and remembered details about Pacific Rim. It didn’t hurt that he was hotter than the surface of Mercury.

He selfishly hoped that the traffic would keep up the glacial pace. It didn’t, of course, and they were at the restaurant less than a song later.

“I’m sure your dinner will go fine. And if it doesn’t, just call for a Lyft. I’m pretty sure I’m one of like six people driving tonight for the whole city, you can vent again.” Which wasn’t an exaggeration, Lyft just had not taken off in Keystone the way it had in places like Gateway City and Metropolis. Sometimes when he was strapped for cash, Axel crossed the bridge into Central and got fares there. They had a different center of industry, after all. Owen was smiling again, actually smiling, and it felt like his heart had crawled up into his throat.

“I’ll keep that in mind. And, thanks man. For the ride and. Yeah.” Owen reached out, snagging his hand and giving it a little squeeze. He left behind a $10 bill. “Hope I get you again sometime.”

After Owen left, Axel lurked in the area until after midnight. No pings ever came. It was disappointing, but it also meant that Owen and his father had peacefully reconnected, which was nice. He turned off his active status and drove home.

***

A few weeks passed and slowly, Axel began to forget about his handsome passenger. School let out for summer, which meant fares by the dozen. His grades came back eventually, and as he’d expected, he’d aced everything. Joey’s brother finally wore his best friend down.

“I still can’t believe you’re actually moving to Jersey.” He complained one night while they packed up Joey’s half of their apartment. Jack had paid Joey’s part of the rent for the next six months, more than enough time for Axel to find a new roommate, but still.

“Moving back to Jersey,” Joey reminded him. “And me neither. But Janice has had to travel a lot for work lately, and they don’t want Becky to be raised by some nanny.” 

“You better come back to visit.” Axel grumbled, shoving the contents of one of Joey’s drawers into a box a bit harder than necessary. “So I can show off how awesome my new roommate is.”

Joey went quiet, the clacking of DVD boxes coming to a slow halt. “You already found someone?” Axel sighed.

“Dude. I haven’t even put out an ad yet. I’ve got six months of walking around naked without someone yelling at me to get some damn pants on to savor, first.”

They laughed, and Joey pulled him into a hug.

“I’m gonna miss the hell out of you, Ax. Now c’mon, my flight is in two days, and we’ve still gotta get all this shit to UPS.”

At least one upside to this moving business, Jack was footing the bill for everything. Which meant that Joey’s few boxes of possessions that wouldn’t fit into his plane luggage were making it to Gotham in style.

All too soon, it was time to make their way to the airport.

“Don’t let the new guy do anything weird to my room.” Joey said. “And you lay down the fuckin’ law in regards to all prog rock.”

“Yes to Yes, Rush can suck dicks in hell.” It had been literally the first thing Joey had said to him two years ago, when he’d shown up at their apartment, looking to rent the other room. “You call me when the plane lands, okay? Like, from the runway.” They hugged again, and Axel felt his spine pop a little when Joey lifted him off the ground.

As soon as Joey was through his gate, Axel turned his Lyft notifications back on. He was already at the airport, after all, and it wasn’t like Jack was throwing in money for groceries. Within seconds of making it to his car, the app pinged with a ride request. The name made him blink, a grin spreading out onto his face.

Owen M is requesting a ride.

He met Owen back at the same terminal he’d just left, taking note of the pair of huge canvas duffel bags. The dinner with his dad must have gone amazingly well.

“Axel!” Owen was all smiles when he hopped out of the car to help him with his bags. “Man, you really are the only Lyft driver in this city, huh?” Axel snorted.

“Nah, my roommate needed a ride. He’s moving back to Gotham, to be closer to his family.”

“What a coincidence, that’s exactly what I’m doing here.”

When they stood side by side to shove everything into the trunk, Axel noticed that he was a good foot shorter than Owen. Yowza. 

Don’t pull a Joey, you’re good at this driving shit.

As they left the airport and got onto the highway, Axel wondered what he should say. Should he ask about Owen’s flight? The route he was taking wasn’t leading to the motel, but to a residential area. He was probably going to be staying with his dad while he looked for an apartment. In the end, it was Owen who drew first blood.

“I looked up that album you were playing when I got back home, it was really killer." 

I need to call my mom, because I’ve met the man I’m going to marry.

“Yeah?” He said instead, feigning casual. “Which songs did you like best?”

“Wellll...the cover of that Donna Lewis song was somehow earworm-ier than the original, but Blue Heaven Midnight Crush definitely did the most for me. The rest of the songs were so sad, when you actually listened to the lyrics. But that one, it’s so hopeful. I like songs like that.” Giving random strangers mixtapes was weird, right? It was definitely weird, calm down. “Oh, so in case you couldn’t tell, I live here now. My dad is putting me up until I find a place of my own.”

Thank god, a change of subject.

“You shouldn’t have too much trouble, plenty of people out there are looking for roommates.” A glance in the rear view mirror showed that Owen was watching him intently. “What?”

“Didn’t you just ship your roommate off to Gotham?”

Bad idea bad idea bad idea.

“Yeah, well. You could probably find a better part of town to live in-” Owen grinned, and Axel’s hands gripped the wheel hard enough to dent it. “I don’t even need to put out an ad for a couple of months, his half is paid up for a while.”

Mercifully, they soon pulled up in front of an unassuming apartment building not ten blocks from his own. Owen caught his eye in the mirror again, then glanced away.

“Hey, maybe this is weird but, would you mind if I gave you my number? It could be cool to have a local to hang with that isn’t my dad.” As if on cue, a tall-ish, pudgy man with auburn hair rushed out of the building, practically ripping the driver-side rear door open.

“Owen! I got th’ day off after all! Did yeh flight get in early?” The man had an accent that was definitely not from around here.

“This is your local?” Axel asked, eyebrow raised, and Owen laughed.

“He’s lived here for like, a decade. He knows which Denny’s is the good Denny’s, and that’s all that matters.”

“No such thing as a good Denny’s.” Axel and Owen’s father said, practically in unison, and Axel groaned, head thunking to the steering wheel. I’ve been set up.

“Friend of yers, Owen?” The older man asked curiously, looking Axel up and down as he got out and popped the trunk. “Bit young, innit he?”

Axel huffed as he helped Owen drag out one of his insanely heavy duffels. “I’m 20. And what the fuck is in here man, a dead body?”

“Close, it’s the bones of the guy that took me to the airport back in Gotham.” Owen was cheeky, when he wasn’t anxious. That was. Definitely dangerous. “So...your number? That way I can just throw you gas money next time I need a ride somewhere.”

“I knew you had ulterior motives. Everyone only wants me for my sweet wheels.” Axel replied dryly, but he grabbed a marker from his center console anyway, scribbling his number on Owen’s wrist. Owen grinned down at him as Axel kept hold of his wrist a few seconds longer than necessary, and that’s when his father reasserted his presence. 

“And I’m George!” He said, a bit too loudly to be casual. “Folks called me Digger. And you are, boy that’s bound to be ‘round for tea at some point?” Owen snorted, lips clamped shut to keep from laughing.

“Axel.” He was good at parents, parents always loved him. Other people’s parents, at least. “I’m one of the two Lyft drivers in town. I actually live like, two miles from here.”

That admission sent Digger off on a spiel about some restaurant in the area that had kicked him out last year, and Axel suddenly realized why he’d had a prickling feeling of familiarity this whole time. “I was there for that!” Digger stopped himself mid-sentence, jaw going slack. “Yeah, you got kicked out of Marcela’s at like, one in the morning after you tried to fight the waiter and he totally-” Kicked your ass, Axel didn’t say, but the sentiment hung in the air regardless. “I’m uh. Gonna go. I think I have another ride.”

He didn’t, but it sped up the process of getting Owen’s bags out of his car. Axel drove around aimlessly for a little bit afterwards, his phone off in the passenger’s seat. He only turned it on again once he was in his apartment, and it immediately rang.

“Dude I’ve been calling for like an hour I almost hopped back on the goddamn plane.” Axel sighed, flopping down onto the couch, kicking off his shoes. 

“I miss you too, buddy. How’s that glorious Gotham smog?”

“Like a party in my lungs and everyone’s throwing up. Why was your phone off?” The sigh was deeper this time, and Axel thunked his head against the arm of the couch a few times.

“Remember that guy I told you about, from a month back? Well...” As he spilled out the story, Joey helpfully laughed at him. Multiple times. “Hey, shut up. Unlike you, I don’t make a habit of chasing down every warm body that turns my head.”

“Yeah but also unlike me, you’ve dated like, half a person in all the time I’ve known you.” He had a point. “And does it really count as a date if the guy leaves the theater halfway through to-”

“Point taken!” Axel yelped, frowning at the continued buzzing in his ear. “Were you blowing up my texts, too? I’ve got like ten.”

“Don’t look at me, you know my fingers don’t like texting.” It was true, Joey had hands the size of Axel’s head. Which meant- 

“Oh my god he’s been texting me almost this whole time, what do I do.”

“Depends, there an unsolicited dick pic in there?”

“Joey! Also, no.”

Sorry about that, my dad can be...a lot :( But I promise he’s lonely and weird in a good way.

I honestly didn’t think you were 20, btw. I was convinced a fetus had somehow conned its way into the DMV.

That was a joke.

Shit you probably don’t text and drive. Which is good, don’t text and drive.

It’s wild that it’s only like 7pm. My body is convinced it’s later. I mean I know Keystone and Gotham are only an hour apart, but this city goes to sleep earlier.

Do you wanna get something to eat? I don’t start my job until Monday, so I have like three days to kill and I want to explore things.

The city, I mean.

Oh my god I’m just blowing up your phone like some kind of desperate creep I’m so sorry

If on the off chance you haven’t blocked me, I’m walking over to the park we passed on the way to my dad’s place, to bang my head against a tree for a while

“...wow, he’s a loser.” Axel snorted but honestly...yeah, he kinda was.

“He’s a cute loser. And he likes my music.”

“Keeper.”

“Definitely. I’ll call you tomorrow, Joey. I’ve gotta go save some trees.” Just as he was about to hang up, his friend got in one last jab.

“So when he eventually moves in with you next week, turn my room into a game room so I don’t have to think about you two fucking in there.”  There was a click as Joey disconnected, and Axel covered his face with his hands.

***

The park, funny enough, was only two blocks from his house so instead of wasting gas, Axel grabbed a hoodie off the hook by the door and walked over. He was halfway there before he realized that the jacket he was wearing was one of the ones Joey had shrunk in the wash and left behind. Still didn’t fit him right.

By the time he’d made his way past the last few joggers and couples out for a nice little nighttime stroll and spotted Owen, the taller man was fully laying down on a bench near the small playground, messing with his phone. Moments later, Axel’s own phone buzzed.

I’m by the playground, because I’ve knocked down every tree in the park.

“Yeah, I noticed the path of destruction on the way over.” Axel said as soon as he was close enough, and Owen visibly jumped.

“Jesus! I didn’t think you’d get here that fast! Or at all, really. I was pretty sure I’d basically destroyed the chance of you ever wanting to see me again by sending you fifty texts in under an hour.” Axel shrugged, perching on the very edge of the bench until Owen got the message and sat up properly.

“Man, don’t even worry about it. I’ve screwed up at least one thing a day, every day, my entire life. I’m like a unicorn! Of failure.” That caused Owen to laugh, and Axel grinned to himself. “So what caused you to flee into the night this soon after coming to town, huh?”

Owen coughed, looking down at his feet. The playground was covered in tire mulch, and it looked like some of the bits had made their way into his boots. “So uh. As it turns out, my dad has been seeing someone for a while, and it’s serious enough that he wants me to meet her and her kids sometime this week, because they’re probably going to end up moving in together within the year.”

Yikes.

“Wow that is. You weren’t kidding about your dad being a lot, huh?” Owen grimaced. “Don’t tell me it gets better?”

“The woman he’s been seeing is my biological mom."

Well, holy shit.

Owen ended up spilling the story over the course of the next few minutes, about how his dad and mom had dated briefly years ago, she’d gotten pregnant, and her family had forced her to cut off all contact with Digger and put the baby up for adoption...only for her to run off with a man they absolutely hated (but who was, by all accounts, basically the best guy ever) a few years later. She and the other guy had gotten married, she’d given birth to a pair of twins, and then a few years after that, the guy just up and dies on her. She and the kids bounce around the States for a while, finally settling down across the river from her shitty family that, despite everything, still want to be in her life and get to know her sons. She and Digger ran into each other at the supermarket a couple of months before Owen contacted him, and-

“He didn’t even tell you that your mom was back in his life?! Man, that’s about twenty times the legal limit on ‘a lot’.”

“To be fair-” Axel made an angry little noise, and Owen winced. “To be fair, she’s the one who’s scared as hell to meet me. I mean, she was like, your age when she gave me up. Then she just turned around and started another family without bothering to even try and find me. Dad says that Meloni, that my mom, she’s felt guilty for the last 23 years. Because I’ve been out here all this time, becoming a person, and she doesn’t know anything about me.” There was a little hitch in Owen’s voice there, and they both got very still. “Ah, shit. Ah, geez man I’m-”

“Parents ain’t shit sometimes, even when they’re trying their best.” Axel said quietly, reaching over to hold onto Owen’s elbow. “I uh, I’ve kinda been on my own a while, too. I moved in with Joey like, three months after I turned 18. And, and my situation ain’t anything like yours, but I get it, you know?”

Owen propped the elbow Axel wasn’t holding up on his knee, resting his cheek on his closed fist. Go on, then, his eyes seemed to say in the reflection of the dim lights that were flickering on around the playground. Tell me a story, weird boy. 

The summer before his senior year in high school, Axel’s mom found out Axel’s dad was banging one of his coworkers. They filed for divorce later that same month. Dad moved out, and mom and Axel spent the entire school year selling off or hiding anything valuable he might try and take in the divorce proceedings. They sold the house and split the money down the middle. Dad, now living with his coworker (soon to be fiance), told Axel he couldn’t live with him. Mom, who was planning on taking off for middle-of-nowheresville, Iowa to stay with some cousins, told him that he was welcome to come along, but she’d understand if he wanted to stay, as he’d been accepted to a couple of in-state colleges. He couldn’t afford to go to them, but he also didn’t want to leave the only city he’d ever known.

He stayed. He got a million different shitty jobs. He found a good roommate after one or two bad starts. He enrolled in online classes. He managed to save little odds and ends here and there, enough to do some fun shit, like buy the albums he really liked on vinyl like some kinda hipster, and see a couple of movies a month in the theater. He could afford Netflix, so long as Joey paid for their joint Hulu account. He wasn’t living the dream, but he also wasn’t just straight up surviving. He had a life.

“And then one day, I picked up this weird ginger from a shitty motel by the airport, and here we are.”

Owen was quiet for a while, just watching him and processing. Finally, he spoke.

“When do you turn 21?” Axel blinked.

“Uh, April 17th.” Owen scowled. “What?”

“Well this just means you’re gonna need to wait outside or in an alley or something while I buy liquor, because I think we both need a drink right goddamn now.”

***

In the end, Axel managed to convince Owen to just meet him back at his apartment with his booze. The walk from the park to the closest liquor store should take about half an hour for someone who doesn’t know the area and is just going off their phone’s GPS, which gave him a solid hour to turn the half-empty wreck that was his home into something presentable.

Joey was, of course, in hysterics.

“You’re telling me that not only is he coming back to your place after the two of you had a heart to heart in a public park, but he’s planning on bringing alcohol, which you’re actually planning on drinking?! Was it me? Was I the one holding you back from reaching your true potential? I’ve been gone like half a day and you’re already on the track to getting hella laid.” 

“I’m not gonna get laid.” Axel protested, throwing the boxes they’d never gotten around to taking to the homeless shelter into Joey’s room, as well as the small stack of empty pizza boxes from his goodbye party the week before. “We’re gonna watch a movie, I’m gonna try not to hate beer for once, maybe he’ll crash here. Nothing’s gonna happen.”

“Dude...it took me like a month to get you to tell me the deal about your folks. This guy just levels the right look at you and you’re singin’ like a canary. You’re gonna have one beer and just throw yourself at him.”

“So then I won’t drink, and we’ll just watch the various Jurassic Park movies until we fall asleep.” The couch pillows were shitty, so he grabbed a couple of his own (one which was shaped like BB-8, the other that was shaped like R2-D2) from his room, as well as a blanket from his closet, just in case.

“We don’t have any of the Jurassic Park movies on- oh my god you’re gonna use Netflix.”

“Uh, obviously?” Axel replied, triple checking to make sure that there wasn’t any random embarrassing junk in the living room. “Why?”

“Axel. You’re gonna Netflix and chill. I’m so proud of you, my baby bird is finally leaving his nest.”

“You’re the worst friend I’ve ever had.” There was a knock on the door, and Axel froze. “I gotta go, he’s here.”

“There should still be condoms under the c-” Hanging up on Joey had never felt so good.

***

“Okay but like, what I wanna know is, if they clocked the T-Rex going like 30 miles an hour in the last movie, and she couldn’t catch a jeep, how come she can’t catch a single one of these people running away from her on foot in this one??? She’s been hunting wild for years, get your head in the game, girl!”

Axel might be a wee smidge drunk.

In his defense, Owen hadn’t come bearing beer, he’d brought whiskey. Whiskey with honey in it, that tasted amazing with the coke he had left in the fridge. He’d had almost an entire Flanigan’s cup already. Next to him on the couch, Owen laughed. He’d lost his boots during the second half of the first Jurassic Park, and currently had his legs slung over the arm, the bottle he was drinking from on the floor. He was using one of Axel’s stupid Star Wars pillows so that his head was propped up enough for him to actually see the TV.

“Jeff Goldblum is a shitty dad.” He said, words muffled a little by the way BB-8 was pressing against his cheek. “Also doesn’t he have like, three kids? I thought he said he had three kids. Where are the other two?”

“Safe, somewhere that’s not an island filled with fucking dinosaurs!” Axel yelled that last part, causing his downstairs neighbor to throw something hard at the ceiling. “Sorry, Mrs. Oberman!” He went to take a long sip from his cup, finding it empty. “Oh...shit...I should probably like. Get some water. You want some water?” His legs buckled as he tried to stand, sending him toppling back down to the couch with a surprised yelp. BB-8 slipped out from under Owen’s head as he laughed at him some more, reaching over to pat Axel on the arm.

“Chill, young padawan. Gimme your cup, I’ll get you some water.” Owen didn’t seem to have any trouble sitting up and walking around, the bastard.

“Why aren’t you drunk?” Axel demanded, taking his cup back with a frown. Owen just shrugged.

“I’m twice your size and give my liver regular workouts?” A good point. “You wanna pause this hot mess and go to bed?” Axel frowned. It was barely past midnight.

“You gonna be okay getting home? It’s late, and all.”

A look passed over Owen’s face, something that later, after a few aspirin and a shower, Axel would be able to identify as nerves. “I was actually thinking maybe I could...crash here? I’ll make you breakfast in the morning, promise.”

“If only all my dates were so nice.” Axel said dryly, then yelped in a very different kind of surprise. “Joking! Okay cool, goodnight!”

But again when he tried to stand, his legs refused to cooperate only this time, he fell directly into Owen’s lap, sitting sideways on his knees like some kinda princess. 

I’d like to die now please.

As though it was his default reaction to everything, Owen laughed.

“Hey hey, I’m not the kinda guy that expects multiple bases on the first date.” He was teasing him. Making fun of him. Awesome. “First base is perfectly fine. I’m honestly just happy to be up at bat.”

Or, maybe not.

“Was this a date?” Axel asked. He couldn’t rightfully tell, but his eyes felt huge. Disney-esque, even. Keep on the lookout for singing bluebirds, and shit. Owen didn’t stop grinning, though he did shake his head.

“I kinda wanted it to be like, the precursor to a date? Hang out, see if there’s more than just that ‘oh shit he’s cute’ vibe. And then my dad had to. Y’know. And it got real heavy real fast and-” Owen snapped himself out of his rambling before he got too far into it. “Anyway. Yeah. You’re cute, and you’re funny, and you’ve got good taste in music and movies. And I wanna know more about you, like what kinda toppings you like on your pizza, and where your ideal road trip destination would be, and what you look like when you get kissed senseless. But like I said,” Owen tilted his head just so, pecking a short kiss on the end of Axel’s nose. All of his freckles felt like they were glowing red-hot. “This wasn’t a date, and I like to think I’m the kinda guy that can wait until the first date to make a move.”

Oh. Oh, good lord. Oh man.

“O-Owen,” Axel started quietly, even as he felt his face get pinker and pinker. “I uh, I like black olives and sausage and extra cheese. And I wanna go to California some day, maybe check out Joshua Tree and Disneyland and LA, but hit the Grand Canyon and Vegas and Four Corners on the way there. And you uh, you already kissed me once, so like, maybe..?” He let out a nervous, helpless little giggle.

Owen snorted.

“What’s your last name?” He murmured, palms hot against Axel’s hips.

“W-Walker.” Axel stuttered, squirming when one of Owen’s thumbs found a ticklish spot on his side.

“Mine’s Mercer.” Owen replied, leaning in and pressing his lips a little too firmly against Axel’s. His scruffy little goatee was itchy, where it rubbed against his chin and lower lip.

Later, Owen would confess that he’d been trying to think of something suave and cool to say before kissing him. That he’d been worried that Axel would laugh at him, or hate the way his mouth felt, or a million other tiny anxieties that crawled through his brain whenever he got the opportunity to be with someone. Later, Axel would confess that he literally had no standards, because this was the first time he’d ever made out with anyone and if you asked him, Owen had done fine.

“Did we Netflix and chill?” Owen would ask the next morning, after they’d fallen asleep on the floor in a tangled heap of blanket and limbs and novelty pillows. And Axel would groan in return, from a combination of the intensity of his hangover, and Joey being right about something.

“Romance is dead.” He moans. And Owen would just laugh, kissing his forehead.

He disagrees.

[linaofthemyscira]

Real Life Encounters

 Pairing: MMA!Jason Todd/Torres x (fem!)Reader

Prompt: what if you met a real life Jason Todd? Amazing right? Here’s how it would go…

Words: 2988

Warnings: asshole creeps, foul language, sexual harassment.

A/N since this is a real life scenario I’m changing Jason’s last name to Torres because 1. If I left at Todd that would just be a little weird 2. I’d like to think Jason is half Latino or comes from Latino descent (maybe the other half is american?) so yeah. I hope you like! 

P.S. it’s not really…an AU…it’s loosely based on @jasontodd-is-alive ‘s “Alternate Careers for the Outlaws”…also i apologize for it not being gender neutral, i’m really trying to get used to using they/them pronouns, and i’ll try to write future oneshots as gender neutral once i get used to it.

Gotham City, New Jersey. What an interesting place your job had taken you. It was oddly eerie how similar it was to Gotham City from the comics. You know, Batman, Nightwing, Robin, Batgirl and Red Hood. Tall skyscrapers, a rich business mogul, crime ridden streets. Weird right?

The company you worked for was holding a business trip in Gotham City and it was absolutely mandatory. Hence here you were.

It was your first day in the city and it had been long and strenuous. You decided to get some down time at a bar near your hotel and grab a drink before calling it a night.

You opened the door and went straight for the open barstool near the end of the bar. You sat down and folded your hands across the bar top and waited for the bartender to take your order.

“How can I help you today, miss?” He said with a jersey accent.

“A scotch on the rocks please,” you said and rested your chin in your palm.

“ID, please.”

You took out your ID and gave it to the bartender.

“[state you’re from], eh?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yep.”

He inspected it for no more than 30 seconds and handed it back to you. He left you and began working on your drink. You sighed and put your ID back in your purse, then continued resting your chin in your palm.

As the man to your right left his stool, another guy replaced him. He had a blond buzzcut, tattoos littered his arms and he was wearing a thin white tank top and a pair of army pants. He didn’t look friendly or attractive at all. At least not from your perspective.

“Hey,” he said. You weren’t sure if it was to you or not, so you ignored him. One of your coworkers (and best friend) advised you not to socialize with the locals; they were “weirdos”.

“Hey,” he repeated and this time you turned your head in his direction. He was closer to you than you would have liked, considering you could smell the whiskey from his mouth. He looked your figure up and down once and grinned at you, showing off his gold grill.

“Oh come on…” you thought to yourself.

“Are you talking to me?” You asked him.

“You bet, baby,” he winked. You rolled your eyes in response and turned your head back to the bartender now in front of you serving your drink. You whispered a thank you to him and began sipping the scotch.

“Aw come on, have a little fun,” he slung his arm around you shoulder, “Why don’t I take you home and show you a good time, eh?”

You shivered at his touch, but not in a good way. You stopped sipping and looked at the man who wouldn’t leave you alone. You had two options: politely decline his invitation or stand your ground and tell him off. Either way, he was getting rejected.

As you were making your decision, someone entered the bar, and he wasn’t just a random person. In Gotham, he was quite famous. Girls fawned over him, guys were jealous of him. He had a certain reputation, but that didn’t stop him from walking in the streets like a regular person. It didn’t stop him from going to his favorite bar and getting a late-night drink, only, now he was going to get himself into an interesting situation and he didn’t know it…yet.

You finally made our decision.

“Fuck off, you can show yourself a good time, ass-wipe” you hissed and sipped your drink again. The creep removed his arm from your shoulder and stood up, towering above you, now livid that he was insulted.

“What did you just say to me, bitch?” He growled.

“I said fuck off,” you repeated yourself. At this, the new figure, who was leaned against the wall, watching this play out, raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“You don’t get to tell me to fuck off, you dirty whore,” he grabbed your arm violently and pulled you toward him, your faces inches from each other’s. It took you by surprise and now you were getting just a little bit scared.

“I do what I want,” you whispered with fierce determination. The man raised his hand up, balling it into a fist, ready to “teach you a lesson” until a voice stopped him.

“Hey,” the figure pushed himself off against the wall and sauntered toward you and the creep. You and the man, and the whole bar, looked at the challenger in confusion. He had a brown leather jacket on and a red hoodie underneath. His hood was on, so you couldn’t see his face, but he removed at as he was approaching you, and your heart nearly stopped beating.

The bar patrons began whispering and the creep let go of you. He walked up to the new guy and got in his face. The creep was only an inch or two shorter than the new guy, but he was staring into the new guy’s aquamarine hues tenaciously.

“Torres,” the creep snarled, “what are you doing here? I thought you were famous now.”

“What I can’t come to my favorite bar anymore because of my career? That’s bullshit,” the man named “Torres” replied. His voice made you nearly melt in your seat but you maintained your composure as you watched the stand off.

“Get outta here, this ain’t your bar anymore. Go to those fancy ‘mixers’ you got uptown.” The creep replied. He came back over to you and grabbed your arm again, pulling you close to him and stroking your cheek. You cringed and tried to pull your face away from his hands, but he grabbed your cheeks, puckering your lips.

“Get your hands…off of her…” Torres hissed as he took off his jackets and tossing them on an empty pool table, revealing a gray T-shirt adorning his muscular figure.

“Off of this beaut? I don’t think so,” the creep snickered. He turned your face toward “Torres” so he could he get a good look at his next victim and snaked his other arm around your waist.

“I’m warning you, O’Brien, get your hands off of the girl,” ‘Torres’ said.

O’Brien scoffed, “Or what? You gonna use some of your fancy moves on me? Huh? Try and stop me.” He leaned down and pressed a sickening kiss to your neck, causing you to groan in disgust.

That was all it took for ‘Torres’ to ball up his fists and launch himself at O’Brien, throwing a punch to O’Brien’s jaw. O’Brien let go of you immediately as he was slammed into the bar counter.

You fell to the floor and scooted away from the brawl, with the help of a random girl your age. You stood up and watched in awe as ‘Torres’ began attacking O’Brien with calculated and crisp movements. It looked like martial arts, but you didn’t know which kind. He evaded blows from O’Brien flawlessly and was eventually able to knock O’Brien down to the ground.

He turned to you and locked his eyes with yours, but wasn’t aware that O’Brien had gotten up and pulled out a switch-blade. Your eyes widened and you were about to say something when ‘Torres’ turned around a bit and was slashed across the chest with O’Brien’s knife. He let out a quick grunt of pain and backed away. You took this time to grab an empty beer bottle and quickly ran over and smashed it over O’Brien’s head, then kicked his stomach. With that, O’Brien was out as he crashed to the floor.

You turned to ‘Torres’ and saw him leaning against the counter, holding his chest where the wound was. His gray T-Shirt was quickly turning crimson, so you rushed over to him.

“Are-are you okay?” You asked nervously, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Does it look like it?” He responded while panting. You looked up to the bartender, who had a bewildered expression on his face at what just happened in his bar.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” You asked quickly. He nodded and got a medium-sized clear box from under the counter. He handed it to you and you grabbed “Torres’” hand and pulled him up, slinging his arm over your shoulder.

“Do you mind if I use your break room?” You asked the bartender. He shook his head ‘no’ and you hauled “Torres” past the bar into the cozy break room.

You laid him down on the couch and set the first aid box on the coffee table.

“Take off your shirt,” you ordered. He raised an eyebrow at you as if to say ‘Are you sure about that?’.

“Just do it please,” you ushered him. He began slowly taking off his shirt, but since it wasn’t quick enough, you helped him and threw it to the side.

“Well, this is moving awfully fast, don’t you think?” He remarked wittily, gesturing between you and him. You rolled your eyes and turned back to the first aid kit. When you realized you needed some clean, wet rags, you went back to the bartender and asked for some. When you got what you needed, you returned and began treating his wound.

“Lie down,” you told him.

“You’re bossy,” the man remarked as he laid on the floor against the couch. You closed your eyes and furrowed your eyebrows in frustration but went straight to work, sitting next to him.

You cleaned the blood around the large gash, clearing the area so you could have a better look. Then you applied some antiseptic (because who knows where that knife had been?). Once you realized how bad it was and that you needed to stitch it, you got out the needle and thread from the first aid kit. You turned back to him and (reluctantly) straddled him so you could stitch him up at an easier angle. This caught him by surprise.

“Woah hey, um, I barely know you–” he began.

“I’m just stitching up this wound, relax.” You said, preparing the thread and needle.

“Don’t you think a doctor should do that?” He asked.

“I’m first aid certified and if I don’t, you will bleed out here and die,” you said flatly.

“Fine,” he said and frowned.

“Are you ready?” You asked. He nodded his head and you began stitching his knife cut up. He winced a couple times, but he was familiar with his feeling so it wasn’t too bad.

It gave him time to study you. How your hair fell and framed your face, how your eyes shined in the dim light of the room, how you scrunched your nose in concentration. You were beautiful, he had to admit. There was no doubt about it. So what were you, a beautiful young girl, doing at a small bar in Gotham City?

He was still lost in thought when you finished, so you snapped your fingers to get his attention.

“Hi,” you said.

“Hey,” he responded.

“I’m finished,” you told him. Now would be a good time to introduce himself. He nodded his head and stuck out his right hand.

“I’m Jason.” He said to you. You raised an eyebrow and looked at him. Black hair, blue eyes, chiseled features…why did he seem so…familiar? His name was Jason…his last name was Torres. Could it be…?

“I’m [Y/N]” you said back while crossing your arms, not shaking his hand. Your eyes wandered down to his chest and torso, eyeing his abs, then over to his biceps.

“Do you see something you like?” He smirked, snapping you out of your daze.

“Shut up,” you snapped. You didn’t mean it to sound so cold, it was just a defense mechanism.

“Okay okay, you don’t want to admit it, that’s fine,” he smiled a cheeky smile. It was cute and it made a small smile appear on your lips.

“How are you feeling?” You asked him.

“Better, no thanks to you,” he responded.

“You’re welcome. And thank you,” you said.

“For what?” He asked.

“For taking that creep out,” you stated the obvious.

“Tch, that’s nothing, I do that for a living,” he shrugged it off. You bit your lip and raised an eyebrow.

“You save damsels in distress from creeps for a living? What, am I supposed to pay you now?” You asked sassily. Jason gaped at your clever comment and shook his head in astonishment.

“No, I fight people for a living. I’m an MMA fighter. Jason Torres? Does that not ring a bell?” He countered. You shook your head and shrugged. An MMA fighter, huh?

“Okay, maybe The Red Hood?” He tried again. You almost hit the ceiling. The Red Hood. Jason Todd. It all made sense now. This…this man in front of you was the real life version of one of your favorite comic book characters. And it seemed as if he didn’t even know it. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped.

“Ahh, there we go, now you know. Now, now, don’t freak out, I’m just a local ‘celebrity’ and I don’t sign body parts if you were wondering,” he chuckled. You rolled your eyes again and lightly smacked his shoulder. Seemed to also have the same attitude as his comic counterpart. Same appearance, same personality and almost the same name. But The Red Hood? What’s all that about?

“I don’t want you to sign my boob or anything, and I actually have no idea who you are,” you half lied, “but ‘Red Hood’ just sounds familiar. Why do you refer to yourself as that?”

“It’s a street name slash a ring name. I know that’s some WWE, fake wrestling shit but in Gotham, you have a ring name because you don’t fight for the same reasons they do in the big leagues like UFC. You fight to take the other person out. It’s vicious here. And if they know your real name, they know who you’re connected to and bad things can happen. I even have to wear a mask in the ring too. It’s really tedious but it protects my family,” Jason explained. This was so crazy. A real life Jason Todd in front of you. You never thought this day would come.

“Oh that makes sense,” you comment.

“Ey! Are ya done? Can ya get outta my break room now?” The bartender suddenly materialized at the doorway. “I said you could clean his wound up, not have sex with him on my couch.”

It suddenly dawned on you the position you two were in and how the bartender might have thought that, so you quickly stood up and stepped over Jason’s legs and picked up his shirt.

“I’m sorry, we’ll get out of here in a second. Could you please get his jackets from the pool table?” You asked.

“Sure thing,” the bartender said and left you and Jason alone again. You helped him up and handed him his shirt.

“Sorry about this,” you said.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. O’Brien is a dirty bastard. I hate that motherfucker, it’s not the first time I’ve had to deal with him,” Jason took the shirt and slung it over his shoulder. He had his comic counterpart’s facial expressions and body language down to a T. It was almost scary. You looked up at Jason, who was towering above you and asked him a question.

“How tall are you?”

“Why?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Just answer the question.”

“6’2” he responded. Wait until your group chat gets ahold of this. “What, you got something for guys that are 6’2?”

At this, you looked down and shook your head in slight embarrassment. “Kill me now” you thought.

“Gotcha jackets,” the bartender appeared in the doorway again. He threw Jason’s jacket’s to him and crossed his arms.

“Don’t be havin’ sassy moments back here. You can do that in your own homes, but not in my bar. Got that?” The bartender said and left you alone again. Jason shook his head and chuckled as he zipped up his red hoodie and slipped on his brown leather jacket. He held his gray T-shirt in his big hands and looked at you.

“So can I treat you to a drink?” He asked. You shook your head.

“Nuh-uh, that’s not happening. I’m not allowing you to pay for me, not after saving my ass,” you said.

“Which is nice by the way,” he added. He was flirting with you and deep down, you liked it. “But I’m buying you a drink anyway.” He pushed past you and back into the bar area. You grabbed the towel and first aid kit and followed him. (O’Brien had been escorted out by the police while you helped Jason).

“No you’re not! No no, I’m buying you a drink!” You protested. You quickly gave the first aid kit back to the bartender and put the rag in the sink.

Jason sat down at an empty barstool and you sat next to him. The bartender, who kept your purse for you while you treated Jason, gave it back to you.

“Anything she orders, it’s on me,” Jason told the bartender.

“And anything he orders, it’s on me,” you piggybacked off of Jason. The bartender looked between the two of you and huffed.

You ordered more drinks and after about an hour of talking to Jason you decided it was time to go home.

Jason walked you back to your hotel, even up to your room.

“So you’re only here for another 6 days?” He asked as he leaned his shoulder against the wall.

“Yup,” you hiccuped.

“That sucks,” he responded. “Hey, I have a fight tomorrow at 7:00. How about you come along and watch me?”

You raised an eyebrow at him and beamed.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

TAGGING:

@just-a-girl-maybe @saltyteengirl @ioczurma @avengerdragoness @crazymangaluv @wynterrobin @dc-hoe @hellomgann1296

[cupoftim]

@directioner-elf21 ask and u shall receive....

@twixxcatt ..........in fic form!!!!

~~~

Jason met Roy on accident. 

lol no but can u imagine if i just left it like that??? anyways....

Jason met Roy on accident.

Not a happy accident, mind you, as Jason was currently running away from Wayne Manor. Once he was in the city, he planned on changing into his street clothes and catching the 6:00 bus out of Gotham. What he was doing wasn’t simple; he’d had to plan ahead of time, almost a month in advance, all the while avoiding rousing Bruce’s suspicious nature and Alfred’s all-knowing gaze. 

Jason’s entire plan nearly came undone because of one thing. His older brother, Dick. 

Dick had arrived unexpectedly, and with a case he needed help on. Bruce had made things awkward, trying to apologize and then blowing up when he couldn’t. Though, Jason had to admit, he and Dick hadn’t helped with their constant arguing and fighting. But still. Jason had been ready to leave, and then Dick had to go and drag them into his problems. 

Jason had to work with them for three days on the same drug case Dick had been working on for two weeks. In other words? Hell. Then, as soon as the case was over and done with, Dick just left them. No goodbye, no, “thanks for helping me out, guys”. Nothing.

It had infuriated Jason then, and it only served to make his already dark mood worsen. He left his bike outside the Gordon’s house and made his way to the bus stop. Jason shoved his hands into his ratty jeans and made sure to slouch with every step. When the bus arrived, Jason pulled his hood on and kept his head down, paying his fare and finding a seat near the front, on the drivers side.

He shut his eyes and dozed for the next few hours. 

~~~

Bruce was not panicking. 

He was calm. He was rational. He was- fuck, he was freaking the fuck out becasue Jason was gone, he was missing, and Bruce was not thinking because what if he went rogue? What if he was kidnapped? What if he was being beaten? 

“What if, what if...“

Bruce wasn’t helping himself by panicking over this. He had to be calm, and think rationally about the situation. He took a deep breath, and started towards the cave. He was going to make some calls, and he would have Jason back in his arms before the night was over or he’d be out on the streets day and night until his son was back home.

~~~

Jason woke up when someone stuck their hand in his pocket.

He reacted without a thought, grabbing their hand and twisting until he heard it crack and pop. The hand was large, and belonged to a business man, who was cradling his hand and crying. The bus driver didn’t move to help, and Jason only hesitated for a moment before he remembered that he only had a set amount of money, and he was a well-off grown man trying to steal from a sleeping little (looking) kid. He carefully stepped around him and waited for his stop.

The man didn’t get off with him.

The next bus came within twenty minutes, and Jason got on quickly. It was mid-December, and it was freezing outside, even with all of his extra layers of clothes. He curled up in the second front seat, again on the drivers side, and tried to fall asleep.

No such luck.

This new driver was loud, and enjoyed listening and reacting to sports radio. He hated it. Every scream from the announcer was met with equal enthusiasm on the drivers part. But Jason didn’t leave. Not until it was an hour later and the bus driver was calling for the last stop. He got off, walked around for a while, and realized that he had no fucking idea where he was.

He knew it wasn’t Gotham, since the air was clean and fresh, and the street wasn’t covered in grime and waste, and there was no Bat Signal in sight. Jason checked his watch discretely, and then grinned. 

11:45 PM. 

Bruce was out by now, probably on the prowl for Jason, and he couldn’t be happier. Jason left all of his things at the Manor, only taking his clothes and his cash with him when he left. Was Bruce mad? Probably. Jason saw a vending machine and approached cautiously. No trouble here. 

He bought a bottle of water and a granola bar, stuffing the bar into his pocket, and opening the bottle. Jason took a smug swig of water and walked on. 

Jason figured he was somewhere in Maryland, and as he walked past closed stores, an idea slowly unfurled in his mind. 

“Oh, this is gonna be a blast.“

~~~

Bruce was losing his mind.

He’d called Clark, but there was no answer, and then he remembered the off-world mission he’d gone on. He would be gone for a month, at the latest, since the mission required delicate care and diplomacy.

Bruce hated this. It had been almost twelve hours since Jason had been missing, and Bruce had only just discovered that he’d left of his own freewill. 

“Master Bruce? Master Dick is on the phone,“ Alfred held the sleek black phone out to Bruce, who thought nothing of it. When Brce didn’t grab it, Alfred tried again, with a firmer tone, “It’s for you, not I, sir.“

Bruce blinked and reached for the phone. 

“Hello?“ His voice sounded hollow, even to his own ears,a nd he wondered whether Dick could tell something was wrong.

“What do you mean ‘hello’?! Bruce, Jason is fucking missing!“ Dick shouted into his phone and Bruce held it away from his ear. “I got a call four hours ago from Babs telling me that my little brother was gone and that he apparently ran away from home.“ 

Bruce searched the Bat Computer for any clues as to Jason’s sudden disappearance, ignoring Dick’s shouting.

“BRUCE! For fuck’s sake, answer me!” To Bruce, Dick sounded like he was on the verge of throwing up, like when he was a child and woke up crying. Like Jason did, when he worked himself too hard during training. Bruce didn’t know what to say to make it better.

“I...“ His mouth was dry, but his eyes were not. He blinked back tears. “I don’t know what to tell you, Dick, except we’re going to find him, and I’m going to fix this.“

Dick was silent for a long time, only his uneven breathing heard over the line, and it made Bruce’s mouth tighten into a thin line. It wasn’t until Dick started to breath regularly that Bruce relaxed a bit.

“Let’s hope that this even can be fixed, Bruce.“

~~~

The train chugged along quickly, and Jason thanked his quick thinking and Bruce’s training for grabbing a train that was headed to the countryside. He was inside the fourth container and was loving the silence. It was easier to sleep, too, since he didn’t have to worry about  anyone touching him. 

He was in a “sealed” container. Jason still got a kick out of that. The box was easy to crack once he got under the damn thing and started cutting away. He had a convenient toilet, and a nice little bed made up nearby. 

Bruce would freak if he knew what I was doing.

Jason snickered, but his chest tightened slightly. He missed home.

It had been two days and already Jason wanted to head back. He wasn’t going to, but the urge was still there, strong. He had to make it. 

The train would keep going, probably for another day and a half. If Jason wanted to do what he planned, then he would have to find another mode of transportation before the day was out. 

He reached into his pocket, pulled out his last apple. “Refill on snacks, too.”

He’d have to be quick if he wanted to make it to California in time. 

~~~

Bruce watched Dick pace in the living room, his police uniform rumbled and blood leaking from his nose. He didn’t seem to notice it.

“Where the hell could he be, Bruce? We’ve looked all over Gotham, shit we’ve looked all over New Jersey! Do you think he left the state?“ Dick looked over at him, blue eyes wide and wild. “Jason’s smart, Bruce; smarter than we give him credit for. If he wanted to leave the state, he’d find a way, wouldn’t he?”

“Yes,“ Bruce said. His head throbbed, and every time he blinked he wanted wanted to crash. Before Jason left, Bruce had already been on less than two hours of sleep from the night before. He was running fumes, and they both knew it.

Jason probably knew it, too. Probably waited until he knew Bruce would be tired enough to miss his presence for the first few hours. He knew Bruce would expect him in the cave at eleven o’clock sharp, already in costume. He knew everything he needed to know well ahead of time so that when the time came to run away, he wouldn’t get caught.

He turned back to his laptop, and began searching for routes out of the city, and then the state, looking for any reports of a single child boarding late at night. Bruce came up with several, but discarded almost half of them, since they weren’t describing Jason.

One of them, however, reported that there had been an incident on one of Gotham’s bus routes. A man had been attacked and his wrist broken, or so he claimed, as the only other available witness was the bus driver, who said he tried to steal from a sleeping boy, who acted in self-defense. 

“Sounds like something Jason wouldn’t do,“ Dick read over Bruce’s shoulder, holding onto the back of the armchair. “I mean, this guy doesn’t look like the type...“ He took one look at Bruce’s face and backtracked. “You think he did do this? Why?“

“Like the bus driver said, it was self-defense.” Bruce rubbed his face tiredly. It was something Jason would do as Robin, reacting with excessive force to criminals. He always had trouble holding back against the common criminal, sending them to the hospital before prison, taking them in his hands and breaking them. 

Jason reasoned that it was what they deserved, for hurting people, but Bruce knew it went deeper than that. Jason had lived on the streets, had dealt with things Bruce would never experience. He was a survivor.

~~~

Jason crawled out of the container and fell onto the the train tracks. Dust flew up into his face and he coughed and sputtered. 

“Blegh!“ Jason spat, and took a drink of water, swishing it around in his mouth and then spitting again. He had two jumbo-bottles left and he was nearly a quarter way through with the first.

He got up on numb legs and shook them out, his knees popping. Jason started jogging through the rail yard, trying to look as suspicious as possible, occasionally adjusting his hood, like he was hiding his face from the world.

Once outside the yard, Jason slowed to a swaggering walk, his hands shoved into his pockets, and his head up. He was acting... strangely, trying to catch the attention of Star City’s resident hero, Green Arrow. 

It had been a week since Jason had left home, but he had followed Green Arrow’s patterns as well as he could. There wasn’t much to go on, other than he showed up every night around eleven, like Bruce did, and then he went back his Arrow Cave at three in the morning. 

It was a tight schedule. 

Bruce had had a similar one with Dick, going out as soon as it was dark and trying to get home before dusk. It hadn’t always worked out. Now, Bruce followed a strict three-hour patrol with Robin, and then a solo patrol thaat could go on as late as five. Bruce hated those nights.

Jason grinned to himself and almost missed the arrow aimed at his legs. He jumped out the way, and found himself dodging two more arrows until the fourth pinned his hood to the wall behind him. Jason was in the middle of shaking himself lose when he heard footsteps approaching. He stilled, glaring into the dark.

“Who are you?“ The voice was much younger than Jason expected. He smirked.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that? After all, only one guy int his city who uses a bow and arrow against criminals, and you sure as shit aren’t him.“

Angry stomps brought the guy closer to Jason, and he waited patiently. “Shut the hell up! Tell me who you are right now,“ The guy drew notched another arrow and aimed at his face. “Or I’ll let this fly right into your ugly mug.“

“Really.“ He sounded bored with the situation, though inwardly he was sweating buckets. The guy had a fucking arrow pointed at his face.

“Yeah, really.” This guy sounded like he really wanted to let it go, and Jason was not prepared to die in California, of all places. 

Jason was about to open his mouth and make a smart ass remark when his ears picked up a familiar whoosh from above. Jason cocked his head and grinnd crookedly. 

“Guess play time’s over.“ And then Jason sprang free from his hoodie and knocked the guy to the ground. They fought viciously, Jason using his training to trap the guy, who was probably a kid based on his height. 

Jason scrambled for the discarded bow at the same time as the kid. They reached for it and knocked heads together, and the kid apparently was wearing a little cap, and Jason giggled at it.

“Dude, your hat!“ He laughed out  loud and forget for a moment that he was in the middle of a fight and was shoved onto his back. They were under a light now, and Jason could see a nasty cut on the other boy’s cheek, dried blood crusted around it, and his bloody nose, courtesy of Jason. 

And he was a redhead, and really, Jason thought that was unfair, since his favorite color was red and this kid was wearing his favorite shade of red as his uniform color. 

The boy went to punch Jason but was stopped by a batarang with wire. It went around his wrist and then he was yanked into darkness, where Batman was presumably lurking.

Jason got to his feet, and gently prodded his eye. It smarted instantly, and he flinched. The other boy had jerked his elbow into Jason’s eye, and Jason retaliated by slamming the boy’s elbow into the pavement. He went to follow the boy into the dark, and cursed when he was suddenly lifted up into the air.

Shit.

It wasn’t Batman holding him up, but Green Arrow, who looked understandably furious. He lifted him until his feet dangled a foot above the pavement and Jason would have been worried if it was his neck the man was holding. Green Arrow was holding Jason up by the backs of his shirts.

Batman approached from the dark, the redhead in front of him and wrapped in rope. He jumped forward with Batman gently pushing him along. They stopped just a few feet away.

It seemed they were at a standstill, with Green Arrow holding up Jason and Batman hanging on to the other boy, who wobbled on his feet, blood dripping from his busted nose. Jason felt guilt stir in his chest, but seeing Bruce, even as Batman, made him feel  better. It proved that Jason could do anything, and Bruce would still care enough to follow after him, even if it was to lecture ad possible disown him.

He smiled over his shoulder at Green Arrow and tried to swing forward. Green Arrow simply pulled him further away.

“Hey-!“ One look from Bruce and Jason shut his mouth with an audible clack.

“What do you think you’re doing in my city?“ Jason shivered slightly. Green Arrow had a deep, mean voice, and while it had nothing on Batman’s, it was still unpleasant to hear.

“Let him go.” 

“Not a chance,“ Green Arrow said, his voice lightening at the prospect of sticking it to Batman. What a loser.

“Hey, who are these guys?!” The boy was as red as his uniform, and practically  

“Hand him over. Now.“ Batman held out the redhead as a trade, and Green Arrow dropped and then shoved Jason over to him and reached for his kid. They were yanked past each other and shoved behind their heroes, and Jason realized, somewhat belatedly, that maybe his plan wasn’t all that great.

The two older heroes sized each other up. Then, the redhead headbutted Green Arrow’s back and started arguing with him.

“Get this shit off me, GA!“ 

“Calm down, Speedy, at least now you can practice keeping you bal-“ Green Arrow held up his hands peacefully and tried to steady Speedy.

“MY BALANCE IS FINE AND YOU WOULDN’T NEED TO STEADY MY ASS IF YOU TOOK THIS OFF ME.”

Jason pursed his lips, hiding his face behind Batman’s bulk, but a few giggles slipped out. Everyone looked at him, and he gazed back at them innocently, blinking wide, bright blue eyes at them. He threw in a head tilt and a small smile. 

Batman looked unconvinced, though it was hard to tell, what with the mask. But Speedy looked annoyed, and Green Arrow looked like he was trying hard not to laugh.

“Was worth a shot.“ He scuffed the pavement with his shoe, pouting at the ground. Batman put a hand on his shoulder and he smiled softly. 

“Time to go.“ And then Batman picked him up, against the objections of everyone present.

“You still didn’t say why you were here!“ Green Arrow shouted after them.

“I don’t even know who that little shit is!“ Speedy shouted at the same time as Green Arrow.

~~~

Bruce watched Jason carefully for any sign that he was lying.

“So, you ran away...“ 

“Yep.“ 

“To prove me wrong.“

“Yes.“

“About something I said, that I wasn’t serious about, just for your own pride.“

Jason looked at him incredulously, chewing “blue-flavored” gum and blowing bubbles. “When you say it like that, Bruce, you make me sound like you!”

“...“

He grinned and snorted, and nearly choked on his gum. Jason coughed wetly, the gum flying from his mouth and landing in Bruce’s lap. They both stared at the gum, Jason with his hands over his mouth, eyes crinkled and shaking with laughter, while Bruce stared with a dead-eyed gaze.

“You’re grounded.“

“WHAT?!“

“What did you expect?“

Jason leaned back in his seat and nodded, “Makes sense.”

~~~

and that’s it!! congrats on being the first pair to win a free, completely unexpected fanfic!! let me know if y’all like this cuz it took me a while to finish and i did not edit it,,,, ALSO this wasn’t really jayroy but it has the makings of it!!! and i hc jason as afro-latinx sorry for not stating that or his age (14) in the fic,, if anything sounds sketch or wrong pls let me know!! i don’t want to come off as ignorant or anything like that!! also bruce doesn’t really know jason’s reasoning so,,, his pov was just to make the fic seem better than it actaully was 

[linaofthemyscira]

Real Life Encounters Part 2

Pairing: MMA!Jason Todd/Torres x (fem!)Reader

Prompt: what if you met a real life Jason Todd? Amazing right? Here’s how it would go…

Words: 3093 (I KNOW THATS A LOT I SURPRISED MY OWN SELF)

Warnings: asshole creeps, foul language, ppl getting punched

A/N here’s part two because I really like this series! Who doesn’t like thinking of the possibility of a real life Jason Todd and batfam? Also I gave you a Latina best friend because they’re really nice.

The day after, aka the day of Jason’s fight, you had an incredibly busy day at the big expo the company you worked for was holding. You started at 6:00 am and now you were getting off at 6:00 pm. A whole twelve hours running around a hotel, sitting in various lectures, one of which was a TED Talk, participating in activities with your coworkers.…needless to say, you were exhausted.

You walked down the steps of the hotel that hosted the expo with your best friend at work, Wendy De La Vega, dressed down and ready to go out to eat.

“Twelve hours. We’ve been running around for twelve hours and I’m ready to collapse on the bed,” you told Wendy.

“Same but I haven’t had anything to eat for 6 hours I’m so hungry,” Wendy replied.

Around that time, Jason was coming around the corner with a few flowers to surprise you with. Since the night before, he hadn’t been able to get you out of his head, and spent the rest of his night coming up with ways to impress you the next day. His eldest brother told him flowers, not a full bouquet, but 5 roses would be enough to make you smile.

As Jason turned the corner, he saw you and your friend coming down the steps and quickly moved toward you to catch you before you got too far away.

“Hi,” he said as he suddenly approached you and Wendy. You were taken by surprise and gaped up at Jason in shock. What was he doing here?

“Hey!” you said, finally finding the words to say. Wendy, whose jaw was dropped, was looking back and forth between you and Jason. How on earth did her best friend know a guy like him?

“What are you doing here?” you asked Jason. His heart fell a bit; you had forgotten about his match today.

“ I came to pick you up for my fight,” he explained. You suddenly remembered last night’s events and you widened your eyes in realization.

“Oh my gosh that’s right! I’m so sorry, today has been hectic, I’ve worked for nearly 12 hours,” you told him. Jason nodded in understanding.

“That’s fine, I just hope you don’t have plans…” he trailed off.

“No! She has no plans! Y/N, mija, go!” Wendy gestured to Jason.

“But dinner…?” you asked her.

“We can get it tomorrow! Don’t worry about it! Now go!” Wendy said.

“You can come too if you want,” Jason told Wendy. She looked up at him in surprise.

“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll have to pass. Besides, you made plans with Y/N, not Y/N and Wendy.” Wendy brushed it off. As you began to protest, Wendy lightly pushed you straight into Jason to make you go with him, and walked back into the hotel, waving goodbye.

Jason had absentmindedly put his hand on the small of your back to steady you when you nearly crashed into him, but quickly removed it because he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. After you stepped away from him a bit, you looked up at him with a smile.

“Looks like it’s just us,” You shrugged sheepishly. He gave you a warm smile in return and decided it would be a good time to give you the roses.

“I got you these” he pulled the flowers out from behind his back. Your eyes widened at the roses, but your shocked expression soon faded into a soft smile. A blush crept onto your cheeks and you looked down to hide it away.

“Thank you,” you took the flowers from him.

“You’re welcome,” he said.

“We should…probably get going,” you looked up at him again.

“We can swing by a nearby restaurant if you want something to eat,” he suggested. “My fight isn’t for another hour and a half.”

“That would be phenomenal,” you beamed.

And with that, Jason whisked you away to get some food, which, in fact is the true way to the heart.

After getting a quick bite, Jason took you to the venue he was fighting at. It wasn’t terribly small, but it wasn’t an arena either. He took you in through the back, because it was the quickest way to the fighter’s “areas”.

Jason led you down a few halls before opening a door into a large room full of people you didn’t know. They all greeted him warmly and then turned to you.

“And who are you?” One of the men asked. It wasn’t in a rude way at all, as if you weren’t supposed to be there. He was curious as to who this girl was, standing next to his big, brute, hulking brother.

“Uhhhh……my name is Y/N. A friend of Jason’s,” you introduced yourself.

“Jay, is this the one you were talking about?” The man suddenly turned to Jason. Jason’s eyes widened and started gesturing for the man to cut it out.

“Shhhh!”

“The one who you saved–”

“Shhhhhhh!”

“–from the bar–”

“ShhhHHHHHH”

“–last night? Huh? Is this her?”

“Would you please shut the hell up?!” Jason hissed at the man. You looked down at your feet and blushed in slight embarrassment. Now you knew he talked about you.

“I just wanna know,” the man said.

“Yes, okay? Yes that’s her,” Jason said irritatedly.

“Ahhhhh, well, Y/N, the name’s Dick. Nice to meet you. I’m Jason’s older adoptive brother,” he introduced himself. You blinked at Dick a few times in shock. Dick…older adoptive brother…black hair…blue eyes…toned build. What on earth is going on?

“I’m Tim, Jason’s younger adoptive brother,” another black-haired, blue eyed boy stepped up and offered his hand. You shook it and looked around the room. There was a young boy with, you guessed it: black hair and blue eyes and a red-head girl as well.

“I’m Barbara. You can call me Babs,” The girl said.

“Damian. You can call me Damian.” The young boy followed.

“Nice to-nice to meet you all,” you said, completely amazed at the people standing before you. Not only was Jason Todd–well his name was now Jason Torres–real, but his siblings were as well. And Bruce? What about him? You’d have to find out.

“Nice to meet you too. Jay tells me you’re not from around here. Where are you from? Bludhaven?” Dick asked you.

“Excuse me?” You asked.

“Okaaaay, not from Bludhaven then.” Dick raised his eyebrows and backed away a bit.

“No no, did you just say Bludhaven?” You asked him.

“Yeahhh, Bludhaven, New Jersey? It’s Gotham’s sister city?” Dick asked as if the answer was obvious.

“Oh, right,” you nodded. This was getting more and more weird by the second.

“So where are you from?” Damian asked.

“I’m from [state]. I’m here for a business trip,” you explained.

“Oh, I see. Where do you work?” Tim asked. Just like that, Jason’s family had made you one of their own as they asked questions about you. You gladly answered them, but soon you got overwhelmed by all of the attention.

“Hey hey, guys, calm down, you’re freaking her out, give her some room to breathe,” Jason stepped in. His family immediately stopped asking questions and backed off a bit.

Suddenly, a knock was heard on the door and the focus was off you and on the door.

“Yeah?” Jason said loudly. A woman with a headset and a clipboard peeked her head in the room.

“Mr. Torres, you’re on in 15 minutes.” She informed. Jason nodded his head and the lady closed the door. Almost immediately, Jason’s family swarmed Jason and started taking off Jason’s jacket and shirt, getting his wraps and mask and everything to prepare him for the fight. You stood near the door awkwardly, not really knowing what to do with yourself.

Jason half turned to you and spotted you at the door and sighed.

“Dick, could you take Y/N to our seats?” He asked his brother.

“Huh? Oh sure. I’ll be right back,” Dick said and walked over to you.

“Hey! Y/NNNNN,” he drawled out your name. “I’m gonna take you to our seats.”

You looked up Dick with a warm smile, “Thank you so much.”

Dick opened the door and led you out in the hall again. He led you through the maze of halls and out to the arena, which was actually quite large and looked like an actual, televised UFC fight would be held there. You stopped in your tracks to admire how nice it looked and the massive amount of people in it.

“Woah, what is the capacity in this place?” You asked, looking around in awe.

“Uhhh, I’d say about 5,000?” Dick put his hands on his hips, one leg popped out, like a sassy pose.

“5,000 people? Seriously?” You asked him.

“Yup. But only like 3000 are coming to this tonight,” he shrugged it off and started walking again.

“Well that’s still a lot! That’s more than half of the arena!” You exclaimed and scurried after him.

“What, you don’t like people?” Dick asked as he stopped in front of a row of seats.

“No no, I just didn’t expect this to draw such a large crowd. People in Gotham like fighting don’t they?” You asked.

“No no, Gothamites like watching fights not fighting; there’s a difference.” Dick explained.

“Oh, right,” you looked down awkwardly.

“Well here are our team’s seats. Front row, super high quality.” Dick motioned to the chairs before you. You sat down in one and lightly gasped. It had a cushion.

“These are so comfy!” You smiled.

“Hey Ken doll! Can ya move please!” A man behind you with a southern drawl yelled at Dick. Dick blinked at the man a few times before rolling his eyes and looking back at you.

“I gotta go, but once Jay comes out, the rest of us will join you. Sit tight for now,” Dick said. You nodded, and Dick left you alone in the front row.

For about ten minutes, you sat in your seat, scrolling through your phone and wishing you had a snack when suddenly all the lights in the arena turned off.

“Oh my fuck what is happening? Is it a massacre?! A kidnapping?! What the hell?” You thought to yourself.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WELCOME!!” An announcer came on over the sound system. You sighed in relief. The announcer made a few more announcements before introducing.

“HE’S LEAN, HE’S MEAN AND A FIGHTING MACHINE! IIIIIITTTTSSS TWOOOOO FAAAAACCEEE!” The announcer said. One whole section of the arena cheered for the fighter. You watched as a man, with his fists raised in the air and a whole half of his face painted a reddish-purplish color, stepped into the ring. His posse went and sat in their section.

“AND NOW, THIS ROOKIE, THIS RISING STAR HAS GOT A MEAN HOOK AND IS 225 POUNDS OF MUSCLE, IT’S THE RED HOOOOOOOD!” The announcer said with more enthusiasm. Jason, with a dark red domino mask over his eyes, sauntered toward the ring, Dick, Tim, Damian and Babs flanking his sides with their own domino masks. After Jason entered the ring, his family joined you in the seats next to you.

You looked around in slight confusion. Was this normal? Wearing domino masks? You had forgotten what Jason told about mask-usage in the ring the night before.

The referee brought Jason and “Two-Face” a few feet apart from each other and stated the rules. He clapped both on the back, stepped away from the two and blew his whistle to signal the start of the match.

Two-face immediately lunged for Jason, but Jason quickly evaded the lunge and went to the other side of the ring and brought his fists up to protect is face and got into an offensive fighting stance.

Round One was a bit slow, a few blows here and a few there but not much happened.

Round Two got more interesting; Two-Face managed to pin Jason to the floor and nearly strangled him. You stood up in concern, watching as the referee pulled Two-Face off of Jason and made some signals. Jason slowly got up from the ground and rubbed his neck.

“Time-out!” He shouted at the referee. Since it was the first time-out, the ref gladly let it happen. As the ref signaled a time-out, Dick, Babs, Tim and Damian all leaped out of their seats and ran into the ring, holding a stool, a Gatorade water bottle, a towel and a bucket. You quickly scurried after them into the ring and into Jason’s corner.

As you approached Jason, he stopped Dick from continuing whatever he was saying and focused on your figure. You knelt down on one knee and placed your hands on Jason’s knees.

“Hey, are you okay?” You asked him, your tone laced with worry. Jason looked off to the left and nodded.

“Hey hey,” you got his attention again, “no you’re not. That man almost choked you to death. Don’t lie to me. It’s okay not to be okay. Listen, you go out there and kick his ass. I know you can do it. Got it?”

Jason glanced up and saw Two-Face across the ring in his corner, who was licking his lips at you. You hadn’t noticed since you were talking to Jason, but something in Jason ignited as he saw Two-Face checking you out. He hated it. He wanted to rip Two-Face’s dumb smirk off his face.

“Hey! Jason!” You caught his attention again.

“Yeah, I got it.” He said through gritted teeth as he continued glaring at Two-Face.

“Look at me.” You said. Jason tore his gaze away from Two-Face to look into your hues. “You can do this.” You said to him. You had only known him for one day but you meant what you said. A spark was created the night before, and your words fanned the flame.

Jason nodded his head in understanding and chewed the inside of his cheek nervously.

“Time-out over!” The ref shouted over the screaming fans. You and Jason stood up simultaneously and his family dashed out of the ring and back to their seats. You quickly stood on your tippy toes and kissed his cheek, then joined his family in the audience. Jason was a little surprised at your display of affection but shook it off and went back to the middle again.

The referee blew his whistle again and round two began again. You watched intently as Jason dodged jabs and hooks left and right, got in a few light crosses of his own and then it happened.

He ducked one jab and pivoted away, put his leg around Two-Face’s and tripped him backwards. While Two-Face was falling, Jason took the opportunity to punch him across the face, knocking Two-Face out cold.

Two-Face fell to the floor, completely out. The referee gestured that the fight was over and held up Jason’s arm to signify he won. The crowd went wild. Gotham’s new MMA “rookie” had won yet another fight.

You stood up with a smile and clapped happily. Jason yanked his hand from the referee as they opened the cage and ran out to you. As soon as he reached you, he picked you up by your waist and spun you around in a circle. When he put you down, he pulled you into a hug. However since he was significantly taller than you, your feet dangled off the floor.

“You did it!” You exclaimed as you pulled away from the hug, but still in his strong embrace.

“Yeah I did!” He said joyously, looking into your eyes. Jason got lost in your eyes, he couldn’t help it; they were so mesmerizing. You beamed at him and looked into his own eyes. It seemed as if the world…slowed down around you two. Like the only person you could see…was Jason. But you liked that feeling. It felt good. It made you happy.

And then it disappeared as you came back to reality, Jason getting swarmed by reporters and you getting pushed away. Dick, Babs and Tim put themselves in front of Jason and told the reporters to back off and back up. In a few seconds, you lost Jason among the horde of reporters and fans who had come to greet him.

You stood there alone, awkwardly shifting from each foot as the swarm followed Jason back into the locker rooms.

You picked up your bag and went up the stairs out to the main exit instead of the locker rooms. Hopefully the night wasn’t over.

Fortunately, your wish came true. Jason and his family picked you up at the front and took you to a nice restaurant to celebrate his win. Then, he decided to take you back to your hotel by himself.

When you approached your hotel door, you sighed.

“Well. This is my stop,” you stated the obvious.

“Yep.” Jason nodded his head. You two stood outside the door together for a few minutes in silence before you said something.

“Tonight was really fun,” you smiled softly at Jason.

“I’m glad you thought that. I know it wasn’t really a first date but maybe while you’re still here, I can take you out on one.” Jason chuckled as he leaned against the wall on the side of his crossed arm. You blinked at Jason a few times and then nodded.

“I’d like that.” You told him.

“I’ll pick you up at 8:00 tomorrow.” He told you.

“Ooh, tomorrow’s not good, my coworkers and I planned a dinner already.”

“Lunch then?”

“Also…busy…day three of the expo…”

“Then two nights from now.”

“Perfect.” You finally were able to get a date situated.

“Perfect.” Jason repeated and smiled down at you.

You quickly got your keycard out and swiped it on the handle. You opened the door to the room and found it dark.

“Well, goodnight. I guess I’ll text you tomorrow?” It came out as more of a question.

“Yeah. You have a goodnight too, Y/N,” he said and leaned down to kiss your cheek, returning it from earlier.

As you stood in shock at Jason’s simple action, he left you alone in the doorframe. You quickly snapped out of it and went into your room and closed the door. You took off your shoes and put up your purse.

It then hit you that Jason asked you on a date and boy were you happy.

“YESSSSSS!”

TAGGING:

@just-a-girl-maybe @saltyteengirl @ioczurma @avengerdragoness@crazymangaluv @wynterrobin @dc-hoe @hellomgann1296 @redhoodshood @pertaterswithcheese