#this feels like the third installment of the paw pad and the nose leather posts

[amber-tortoiseshell]

do you know why some cats look like they wear dark eyeliner and some dont? i just met the handsomest kitty who looks like he invented the cat eye makeup

My observation now is that dark eyeliner is for eumelanin-based tabbies.

You usually don't see it on solids, red-based colors and whites (or white spotted cats, if the white reaches the eyes).

[batbirdies]

NaNoWriMo 2019 Batfam fic Part 5

Part 5 of my Jason Todd Batfam fic where Jason eventually agrees to dog sit Titus, there are some deep seated issues, unintended animal therapy, snarky text messages between robins and eventually some reconciliation between father and son. Takes place in a murky in between time sometime after Damian was resurrected.

Hopefully I get the links right in this one unlike my last post, as someone kindly pointed out, because I tried to edit the link and just holy cow. The website won’t save it, and if I try to edit posts on the app? It just deletes all the content completely. Very nice Tumblr....

Same warning as all other installments: this is a very rough draft that is being copied and pasted from my working google doc. Expect mistakes. These are also snippets, and there is skipped content in between.

Part 1,

Part 2,

Part 3,

Part 4

Some days were better than others but the flash of the fighting pits that morning put him enough on edge that in the end, he’d sided with staying in. Even if skipping out so much left him with a lingering sense of guilt, it was better than shooting someone because the pit told him to.

And hey, Bruce was right after all, he’d always wanted a dog so he might as well enjoy it while it lasted.

So he makes himself dinner, something good, from scratch that he can keep on hand for after patrol snacks on other days. He digs through his kitchen and settles on fajitas, easy but delicious and good leftovers. He takes Titus on a third walk that evening just before he eats and then he feeds him just before dishing himself up dinner.

He watches Titus fling one of his toys around a little while he eats and thinks maybe he’ll take him to a dog park the next day instead of just walking around the block. The whole point was that he needed the exercise wasn’t it? He was friendly and it was something for Jason to do in the middle of the day when he’d normally be knee deep in research for a case. So he reads up on local ones and finds one not too far away that’s an off leash park where he can throw the ball for Titus and get him some decent exercise. The demon will probably even be happy about it.

When it’s nearing the time he’d normally be leaving for patrol he peruses his bookshelves, picks out an old favorite, makes himself a mug of tea and lays out on the couch with the new blanket draped over his lower half and reads. Tries not to think about the people on the streets that might need him, that he could be leaving without protection while he’s lounging somewhere comfortable and warm.

It feels lazy, after everything he’s done and been through.

But he’s not Batman. He knows his limits, he knows when he should back off and take a break and so that’s that. He doesn’t think about it.

He tries to absorb himself in the story, and manages a little, until about ten minutes later when there’s a heavy shift in weight on the couch and Jason looks up from his book to find Titus carefully picking his feet around his legs.

“What do you think you’re— Oof-“ His breath wheezed out of him in a rush as Titus’ full weight came down on his gut, all balanced on one small foot. “You’re crushing me, what are you doing?” Another two steps and the dog was suddenly settling down, shoving his hands and book out of the way, Titus whole body resting on top of Jason’s. Nose reaching all the way up to his collar bone, front paws tucked in next to his head, the rest of him a solid, heavy weight down his front with lower legs resting between Jason’s. He gasps out a laugh and wishes his phone was within reach, he’d get another picture to send to Damian.

Titus huffs out a very soft growl and Jason settles a hand on his head, scratching at his itchy ears while he turns his head from side to side and whaps his tail against the soft leather of the couch.

“You do this to the kid too? You’re bigger than he is, you’d break his ribs.” Titus only lets out a pleased little grumble at the ear scratches before Jason finishes with a pat to the side of his neck and attempts to find a comfortable place to settle his book and read with the dog on top of him. It’s an oddly comfortable weight, even if his bony little elbows are jutting into his rib cage and his lungs feel mildly compressed. The little warm puffs of air on the backs of his hands when he finally sets the book in front of Titus’ nose, uncomfortably close to his face, are kind of...nice too.

Jason hadn’t gone to sleep before 2am in he could even remember how long, but it was just nearing midnight when he’s starting to nod off. Titus weight and body heat making him weirdly drowsy. The words on the page blur in front of him multiple times before he finally slips a bookmark in the page he could last actually remember and set it on the coffee table next to him. Then he rested his hands on either side of Titus head and closed his eyes, letting himself just fall asleep. He’d regret it later when he woke up in the middle of the night with his neck killing him or Titus crushing his sternum while getting down off the couch, but for the time being, he felt oddly relaxed.

He was drifting off before he knew it.

The dream that night is not a new one. Not that they ever are, but it does start more abruptly than he’s used to.

He opens his eyes in the dark and he’s blinking and blinking and the air around him is hot and stale and Jason has no idea where he is or how he got there, but it’s cramped and he can’t move his arms above his head and his heart is pounding so loud it’s all he can hear. There’s not enough air, his elbows keep slamming into the sides of the box he’s in and he’s crying, panicking, in seconds. Clawing at the barrier above him until his nails are torn and bleeding. His only rational thought comes when he manages to slip his belt off, when he starts tearing at the exposed wood of the coffin with the buckle, mindless, angry, terrified, it’s all he can do to keep moving so he doesn’t just lay down and die again.

Splintered chips of wood cut up his hands but the sting is nothing compared to the frantic adrenaline pumping through him. All at once the weakened wood gives way and then Jason is sputtering and coughing up soil that’s collapsing in -

Something cold and wet touches his cheek and he’s blinking his eyes open to a dimly lit apartment and Titus’ big head right in his face. He noses at his chin and whines and Jason groans, shoving away Titus’ face and feeling his skin crawl, he tries to push the dog off and Titus goes without complaint, jumping to the floor with only one well placed kick to Jason’s bladder.

He lays there, staring at the ceiling and counting his breaths. Titus licks his hand and Jason jerks upright, startled, and swallows. The dog sits down on the floor but presses himself to the side of the couch, shoves his head in Jason’s lap and he focuses on that, on the soft, velvet like fur under his fingers when he rubs them across the bony head.

“I’m fine.” He whispers to the dog, like Titus is worried about him or something. “Thanks for waking me up.” He can just see the whites of the dog’s eyes flash when he glances up at him, like he’s really listening. “The rest of that dream is….not good.” He draws in a deep breath, feels like his lungs are still compressed and counts himself an idiot for not realizing sleeping with a weight on his chest would drag up those particular memories.

“My fault.” He feels boneless. “Sorry I scared you.” Titus lifts his head and gets a solid lick to Jason’s face before he manages to jerk back, gets a face full of dog breath that has him suppressing a gag. “Christ.” He shoves his snout the other direction, feeling a slightly hysterical laugh bubble up in his chest. “You are really something, you know that?”

Jason sits there for a little while longer, letting his breathing even out and scratching at Titus’ ears and down his neck. His bladder is dying for a relief and he finally levers himself up off the couch and shuffles to the bathroom, listens to Titus’ claws clicking across the linoleum of the kitchen floor when he goes for a drink.

Exhaustion pulls at him, even after the dream, now that his heart rate is back down to normal and instead of pulling out a book or the headphones or watching stupid aimless YouTube video’s on his phone like he might normally, he crawls into his bed and lays on his stomach, face pressed into a pillow. He can feel himself drifting back off and has a minor twinge of fear that the dream will just start back up again - but then he feels the weight on the mattress shift and Titus pads up next to him, settling himself on the lower half of the bad, half curled up, and sets his chin on the back of Jason’s leg. He feels the weird sensation of the dog swallowing and he’s out before he has another moment to worry.