#and is very sure he’s gonna find Tim’s throat ripped out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jwritesandrambles · 3 years

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“Supposed to Be”

Hi there! Yeah I still barely use tumblr but hey lookit I did the wrote thing down!!!!

I would like to give a bit thank you to @schweeeppess and @dragonsworn05 for editing my messy dyslexic rambles. @noroomforcream and @just-a-little-in-over-my-head did some really cool art for this!

(if I missed tagging someone, it’s not personal I appreciate you so much, I’m just posting in a rush mwauh)

Jason was back in Gotham. For the second time since he died, actually.

The last time hadn’t gone well. Technically, it had gone according to plan--for the most part--but Jason was still shambling together the broken pieces of his mind. Back then in December, all that was left of Jason were the shards of hurt and anger. He had been living for nothing but the idea of someone else’s death. Coming back to the real world, away from the sheltered and hidden places of the League of Shadows and the All-Caste, seemed to bring a bit of him back. Seeing Bruce, talking to him…everything that went down, and the reminder that he cared about him--loved him, even--it woke something up in Jason. Something that he thought had died along with him and never came back.

He had spent a year by himself, taking any mercenary jobs he could get, trying to find something other than the all consuming anger that had fuelled him for the past few years, but his travels didn’t matter now, as he stood in a back alley of Gotham, the protective red helmet tucked under his arm. He wished his replacement, Tim Drake, hadn’t chosen this particular alley to meet up in.

The balcony and rickety old fire escape were unforgettable to Jason. It was where he had met the Bat, after trying to jack the tires off one of those many damn expensive cars that Bruce had. Not only where it began, but where he once thought it would end. It was only a year ago he had stood, gun trained on Bruce, the man he had, for a time, called father. His voice shook and tears rolled down his cheeks, “it would be so easy to kill you.”

Jason was ripped from his reminiscing as a soft thud signaled that Red Robin had landed behind him. Jason flinched more than he’d like to admit, but fought the urge to draw his weapon. Quick reflexes was a nice way of saying jumpy.

“Hood,” The teen greeted.

“Replacement,” Jason said with a nod, echoing Tim’s tone back at him, relaxing.

“Weren’t you a replacement too?” Tim pointed out, seeming to take no offence.

Jason shrugged, “True. I’m not denying it. Just as long as you know that’s probably what B expects. Another Grayson,” he mumbled.

Sure, he was less angry than before, but that didn’t mean Jason wasn’t a bitter son of a bitch.

Tim bit the inside of his lip, an awkward and slightly uncomfortable look on the visible part of his face. It flickered away and was replaced with a more professional, neutral expression as he cleared his throat.

“Yes... well... We’re here for a job so let’s focus. You got all the information B sent you?” He was honestly trying his best, but he was hesitant about this mission. Could anyone blame him? Jason Todd had proven himself to be... volatile. The memories of Jason’s violence were all too fresh in Tim’s mind.

“Yeah, I got it. I read the file over,” he mumbled. He puffed out a weak breath, “Scarecrow set up a chemical mixing shop by the docks, at least one shipment has come in, but we can expect more, right? Anything I missed?” Jason asked, rummaging through his coat pockets.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He had been trying to quit, but he didn’t want to be getting distracted with cravings while trying to focus on the mission.

Tim watched him quietly as he lit off, smelling the tobacco from up on his perch.

“Um... yes, that’s all,” the teen dragged his teeth along the edge of his lip. The skin felt slightly raw and sore from his empty minded nibbling.

Jason started walking off down the alley, leaving a slight trail of lingering smoke in damp air. Tim followed.

“So,” Jason pulled the cigarette from his lips, careful not to let his helmet slip from under his arm. He held it between his first and second fingers, “Uh.. Why’d you have us meet here instead of anywhere closer to the docks?” He asked, trying to break the awkwardly growing silence.

“Scarecrow has patrols circulating around the docks. We’re less likely to be spotted if we’re not waiting around there to meet up,” Tim explains with a little shrug.

Jason hummed a brief note of understanding, “Oh yeah, that makes sense. I’m, uh, I haven’t worked with anyone in... years,” Jason paused, taking another drag from the smouldering cigarette, “Y’know, really nothing team oriented since working with B. Even then I was a shitty teammate,” he laughed hollowly.

Tim nodded, thinking about what Jason’d just said. Had it really been that long? Maybe… maybe the fact that Jason was even admitting to being a bad teammate didn’t bode well. It could mean trouble for them later. If it was so obvious that even Jason could admit it, perhaps Tim shouldn’t have done this team-up.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Tim ran to catch up to Jason quickly, “Wait... how old are you?” He asked upon reaching him.

“I’m t- uh... hold on, well... how long was I gone?” He asked Tim in return.

“You were thought to be dead for five years,” Tim told him, in a tone like he was reciting a Wikipedia page written about the formally deceased, wayward Wayne boy. Now that Jason thought of it, he was certain Bruce had a file written up on him now. Bruce had written up for every major criminal in Gotham city.

Jason let out a low whistle and soft huff, “I must be… twenty one now? Weird.”

“So... you didn't know how old you were till now?” Tim raised a brow, causing the mask to shift.

“Yeaahh,” Jason drew the word out sarcastically, pretending to took him deep thought to reconcile. “Somethin’ about the severe head trauma, dying, comin’ back, and being isolated from the normal world for years, all while being a wreck the whole time seems to have made my memory a lil’ fuzzy,” Jason said with a wry, sarcastic smile.

Tim seethed silently, letting out a series of apologetic mumbles, eyes dropping to ground ahead of him- it was a tactless and rude thing to ask, and Tim should’ve known that!

Jason laughed weakly, hand quickly coming up towards him and... ruffled Tim’s hair? The boy hadn’t even had a chance to recoil. He was just confused; that was the last thing he’d expect from Jason.

The man stubbed out his cigarette and lumbered on ahead of Tim, dropping it in the trash, “Don’t worry about it, kid. I was just being a bitch, you’re fine.”

Tim opened and closed his mouth, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. A man who tried to kill him only a year ago had just ruffled his hair?! He decided not to comment on it, because-- after all--what the hell could he even say?

Tim cleared his throat again, “We should get into position, we’re almost there. Maybe get your, uh, helmet-thingy on?” He suggested.

Jason glanced at the helmet- he’d almost forgotten he had it tucked under his arm.

“Yeah, of course,” Jason said, lifting his helmet and plunking it on his head, “good reminder, Timbers.” His voice became modulated the second the helmet covered his head. His low, gravely, smokers growl of a voice, was nowhere near and deep and gravely as Bruce’s--but sounded like it took a step closer with every box of cigarettes--became a pitch lower still. An odd robotic twang edged his words, giving him a metallic, cyber sound.

Tim adjusted his own mask, making sure it was firmly in place before nodding to Jason. The two silently started up again, approaching a warehouse that was supposed to be locked until the next morning’s shipment. “Supposed to be” being the operative words. Instead, there was muted huffing and shuffling as two of Scarecrow’s workers uncomfortably hauled a large crate into the building.

Both Jason and Tim seemed to shrink into the shadows at the same instant; each becoming one with the wall. Jason drew his weapon quietly, earning a disapproving frown from Tim. “I’m not gonna kill them. Chill,” Jason whispered in that odd robotic voice.

Tim seemed satisfied enough to quit pouting at Jason. They crept closer, making little dashes between hiding spots when the coast was clear.

Jason let out a breath of curse as his eyes fell about the giant, glass, canister. It was filled with a bubbling, sickly, arsenic green substance.

“No way, that shit is all fear toxin? Fuck! He’s got enough to blast the entire downtown!” His voice came through in a synthesized hiss.

“Worse.” Tim whispered, spying the large pressurizer on top of the glass container. “That’s just the liquid form. When he releases it, it’ll be gaseous. If it’s released from the container from a high vantage point, a small breeze could cover the entire city in minutes.”

The severity of the situation washed over what little of Tim’s features were visible from beneath the mask.

This wasn’t just a quick little in and out operation anymore. One wrong move and there could have a small, yet very messy, catastrophic outcome.

Tim had to plan this carefully, because there was no way they could afford to mess this up.

He turned to Jason...or, rather, where Jason had just been seconds before.

Jason had evidently had a similar train of thought to Tim’s. He’d realized this was a serious situation, though, instead of drawing the conclusion to re-evaluate, re-plan, and carry on with caution, or something sensible-- he seemingly forgot any sense of subtlety he had. Oh, God forbid carefully thinking his actions out, like any sane rational person would do. Or calling for backup, like anyone with a vague semblance of self-preservation. No no, instead, Jason had decided it was best to act now and not waste a second with plans or any ideas of safety. He jumped into action.

Jason was already leaping over the crate the two vigilantes had been hiding behind seconds ago, as Tim let out a quiet imploring hiss of “Wait--oh no-”“ but it was too late.

Jason already had his gun drawn.

“Scarecrow!” he yelled, “this ends now!” He fired at the box the two workers were carrying, sending it out of their hands and clattering to the floor. A series of shattering followed the initial crash as the contents shattered. Whatever chemicals that had been inside hissed loudly, a faint smoke rising from between the boards of the wooden box.

“Hood!?” The Scarecrow rounded to face who he knew as the ex-criminal, ‘The Red Hood.’

“In the flesh.” Jason kept his gun trained on Scarecrow, while a third worker who had been off to the side started to shuffle his way towards him.

“Thought you moved your little operation away from Gotham when the Bats got the better of you,” Scarecrow commented, not seeming pleased about the interruption at all.

Scarecrow’s worker lunged at Jason. Tim kicked himself mentally and left hiding, kicking the worker --physically, not mentally this time-- back away from Jason. The third worker scuttled back, apparently deciding this altercation was above his pay grade.

Jason felt something he hadn’t really felt in a long time; it was a feeling akin to camaraderie. He had someone watching his back for once. If the circumstances hadn’t been so dire, he might have even cracked a smile. Or, rather, he might have felt a slight tug at the corner of his lips, at least.

“Well, yeah, the bats did get the best of me. Now I’m tryna give them my best. And that involves bootin’ your sorry ass out of here.”

“Quick witted, aren’t you?” Scarecrow tensed slightly. His eyes darted away from behind his mask for a moment. He was glancing to the side. Tim followed his gaze over to the-

Shit! The canister! If the bullet missed Scarecrow it would-

Tim knew what scarecrow was thinking, but it was too late.

“NO!” Tim shouted, helplessly watching as Scarecrow dove.

As expected, Jason pulled the trigger reflexively, but the Scarecrow had already ducked. The bullet made a resounding bang as it fired, hitting the large gas canister.

Tim seized up, every nerve buzzing, every muscle tensed, every fibre of his being filled with an awful sinking sensation. The room was deadly-still. It was like something written by the hand of a fool-hardy novelist, who was paid far too much for over-the-top paperbacks; The bullet had embedded itself in the glass, acting like a stopper. A sickening series of cracks emanated from the canisters, as a thin spidery web formed across the glass. All tendrils originating from where the bullet hit.

Jason let out a low whistle, “Well. That coulda been disastrous.”

Tim couldn’t help but feel relieved, a stressed laugh escaping his lips.

Scarecrow was scampering away, his workers already having pulled a quick disappearing act themselves, because, this wasn’t what he’d planned.

“Don’t even think about it, Crane,” Jason said as he turned, taking a heavy step.

Said heavy step was apparently too much. The glass gave a shuttering groan, followed by a small hiss as gas began to leak.

Tim made an involuntary distressed sound. Something akin to an exhausted sigh mixed with a whimper.

The one word that ever so eloquently graced Jason’s lips was, “Fuck.”

And the canister...

Burst.

The pressure placed on the glass had built up and could no longer hold.

Jason’s final step had been the breaking point, the spider work of cracks along the glass giving way with a great shatter.

Shards of the canister flung themselves across the room. The liquid that had been held within instantly began vaporizing into a thick, sickening gas. To anyone that had the misfortune of inhaling it, it felt as though the gas was trying --with every atom of its existence-- to choke the life out of its victim. It reached into their lungs, clawed at their insides, grabbing at their desperately beating hearts, and squeezed. It forced their brain to fill their body with adrenaline and hallucinogens. Tim knew this.

He’d studied the Scarecrow’s fear toxin many times. He’d been exposed to it before, too. Tim knew this fear and knew he was helpless to do anything about it.

Tim was helpless to stop this. He had failed. He’d failed Bruce. He’d failed this mission. Because he was weak. He was weak, helpless, hopeless, a failure, a burden, unwanted. He was nothing more than a replaceable replacement. No one would care if he was gone, God, it’s not like anyone would ever notice! He was a forgettable nothing. Tim coughed and wheezed. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe!

Tim staggered. He tripped over his feet trying to get away from the intense fear that gripped his throat. Tim realized something physical was gripping his neck. The thing dragged him back roughly, towards what he could only assume was something horrid. Tim clawed at the thing gripping his throat. As he gasped for shuddering breath, he couldn’t help but begin to sob. He was going to die. He would die and no one would care. No one would even try to find him when he didn’t come home, they wouldn’t even notice because he was worthless, replaceable, weak, failure, helpless!

A new level of fear washed over Tim as he felt something cover his face, it encased his head. Tim could feel it squeeze his skull, he swore the pressure felt tight enough to crush his cranium like a tin can. It was claustrophobic. He felt his own shallow breath bounce back against his lips, because it had nowhere else to go. He was trapped and suffocating.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t BREATHE! OH--oh, oh no... no? Wait a moment... he COULD breathe.

Tim took a moment to try to get his bearings. He needed to remember how his lungs worked. He awkwardly sucked in a breath of filtered, recycled air. It tasted tinny on his tongue. Tim blinked the tears from his eyes. They rolled down his cheeks, and he became aware of the taste of salt too. There was the faint scent of stale tobacco and smoke. His mind was reeling as he processed each detail. He dragged tongue over his lips nervously, and began to chew at his bottom lip. Tim’s heart was still pounding and his hands were shaking. He raised his hands to feel his head, glancing at his twitching fingers as they passed in front of his face, confusedly. Everything had a red tinge to it. He pressed his hands to his head, feeling a hard smooth surface.

Tim’s brain felt slow and groggy, taking a moment to clue into what was on his head. Was it Jason’s helmet? Yes, yes it was Jason’s helmet, that was certain, but where was Jason?

The thick gas still hung in a green fog, but the helmet seemed to be filtering the worst of it out. Tim swept his arm though the air, watching the gas clear slightly, before swooping in to fill the gaps. Tim knew he needed to thin this stuff out if he wanted to have any hope in finding Jason before tripping over him. He rushed through the room, feeling his way over to the door. Scarecrow’s men had closed it, containing them --and more importantly the gas-- inside. Small mercy the fear toxin wasn’t being released on the city though.

Tim dragged his fingers along the wall. His senses were so heightened that it was almost overstimulating. It was likely due to the toxin, Tim guessed. He could still feel the rough brick as he scraped along, even through the tips of his gloves. It was oddly reassuring. A steady constant he could focus on until -thunk- His hand bumped into a smooth metallic protrusion from the wall. Exactly what Tim had been looking for.

“Bingo.”

Tim swept his other arm through the air again, doing his best to fan the gass away for him to get a bit of a better view of what he was hoping to see. A metal switch box, old and slightly rusted around the edges. Tim had been counting on any wearhouse by the docks having a ventilation system to keep the products safe from humidity. Of course, he was right. With some difficulty, Tim wrenched the switch box open. After straining to read faded, dusty labels through the gas in the air, he flipped what he hoped was the right switch.

There was a small whine of aching metal that hadn’t moved in a long time and Tim cracked into a grin underneath the helmet.

He’d done it!

The fans kicked into a regular pace. The smooth ‘whoomp whoomp whoomp’ of turning blades filled Tim with a sense of muted triumph. The foggy haze of fear gas began to thin as the building began to filter it out, mixing it with the humid air. Tim figured it would be condensed and drip out to puddle with the dirty water in the alley behind the warehouse. If Tim was right, which he usually was, it wouldn’t harm anyone unless they decided to drink from the puddle water. Which was unlikely, but not impossible. It was Gotham after all.

Tim looked around the room as the gas dissipated. His gaze found its way to a shaking heap on the floor next to the shattered remains of the canister he had been standing before. The proud grin faded from Tim’s lips.

That... that wasn’t a good sign at all.

“Hey, um, hood? Red hood, status?” He asked, the words felt strange as they left his mouth. Hearing his own modulated voice echo slightly in the room felt vaguely surreal.

The heap of muscle and leather known as Jason didn’t reply.

Seeing Jason’s twitching body on the floor emptied a hollow pit in Tim’s stomach. Jason had never seemed like he was even capable of fear. Capable of rage, capable of hurt, and capable of pain, sure, but fear seemed like something Tim would’ve assumed Jason was beyond. Something so... innate, that the unnatural nature of Jason’s second life would’ve swept it away.

Tim made his way over, hesitantly rolling the helmet forward off his head. The fear toxin seemed to be thin enough now that it wasn’t harming him.

“Ja-er, Jason?” Tim’s soft voice seemed thunderously loud in the quiet room. The only other sounds around were the fans quietly whirring away and, far more disturbingly in his opinion, the even quieter shaking breaths and distressed whimpering tumbling from Jason’s lips.

Jason was not in good shape. He was shaking violently, hands over his head. His whimpers were punctuated by violent spasms that racked his body every few seconds, accompanied with a louder more pronounced cry.

Tim felt the colour drain from his face. He quickly kneeled down, setting the helmet on the concrete floor next to them both with a slight clink. Tim grabbed Jason’s arm, trying to turn him on to his back. Jason heftily flailed the arm Tim pulled, unintentionally hitting Tim in the face. Tim yelped in surprise as a sharp pain sprung from his nose, warm liquid leaking down his face. The blood pouring down his face didn’t deter Tim much, the blood coursing through him seeming to do the opposite for pain as it did the rest of his senses. The pain was slightly numbed--or, rather, it had become easy to ignore. He fought to wrangle both of Jason’s arms, quickly scrambling to sit on Jason’s torso, struggling to pin Jason’s arms down with his legs.

Tim took off his mask. He knew it was against protocol, but an un-obscured face was easier to recognize when the toxin took hold, in Tim’s experience.

“Jason? Jason, look at me. Can you hear me?” he asked quickly, holding on to Jason’s shoulders. He desperately hoped Jason wouldn’t throw him off. Jason’s eyes were unfocused, spinning around wildly all over the room.

Tim tried to process Jason’s words, “No, not again, ple--I can’t I--it hurts! Fuck! It hurts,” Jason’s words became incomprehensible for a moment, then his fists clenched tightly. “I don’t want to die! Not again. Not again not again not again! He’s gotta come save me, take me home, he’s gotta! Shit, not again!“ he choked and broke off with a shout and another full body jerk.

Tim was jostled but didn’t fall off, by some miracle. “Jason!” he tried. “Listen to me!” Tim put his hands on either of Jason’s face. Jason flinched away from Tim’s touch with a sob of “It hurts, it hurts, I can hear all my bones snapping, I’m dying, it’s crushing me, I can’t--I can’t--”

“I know,” Tim cut him off gently, “I know it hurts and--and you’re scared, but you’re not alone, I’m right here. I’m going to help you,” Tim tried to catch Jason’s focus.

Jason’s roaming eyes stopped dodging around the room, and turned towards Tim. He kept looking from Tim’s shoulders, Tim’s chest, back up to his face and then to his eyes and back to his chest again. Perhaps not the ideal image of calming down but it was a first step.

“Good,” Tim praised softly in relief. He ran his thumbs over Jason’s cheeks gently. Now more so than ever did Tim take notice of the scars on either side of Jason’s face. On Jason’s left cheek, there was a jagged line that traced from his cheek bone down to his jaw. A similar yet smaller one was mirrored on Jason’s right. Tim could understand why Jason flinched from him. He shook the thought from his mind, “See? We’re okay. Just try to breathe, in and out. You can do that, right, Jason?”

“No! No! I c-can’t, I’m crushed, I can’t. My--my lungs, they’re all full of blood, and mud, and dirt, and fuckin’ I dunno what!” Another violent thrash went through Jason’s body, almost toppling Tim off this time. “I can’t breathe, it hurts! I want it to stop hurting! How do I make it stop!?”

“Uah--yeah, I know it hurts, but I promise nothing is crushing you. It’s just me, I’m light, and I’m here and I--I know it hurts I’m going to try to make it stop but I need to--” Jason thrashed, but Tim didn’t relinquish his hold on him, “--but I NEED you to stay still!”

Jason’s eyes finally locked on to Tim’s, “M-make it s-stop?” he echoed back to the smaller vigilante.

“Yeah, yeah I’m going to try to make it stop.” Tim slowly pulled his hands away from Jason, sitting back slightly, starting to fish through the many pockets and pouches attached to the strap around his waist.

He almost always had the antidote on hand. Bruce had trained him and prepared him meticulously, making certain that Tim would be ready with everything they had at all costs. The only issue was it was enough antidote for him; almost seventeen, about a head shorter and ninety pounds lighter--nowhere near enough antitoxin for the two hundred and forty pounds of murder that was the shaking mass of Jason Todd slumped before him.

Jason dropped his head back against the concrete floor, beginning to mutter once again.

“My fault. All my fault. I can’t--all dead.”

“No one is dead, Jason, everyone is okay,” Tim said, soon after feeling a small surge of triumph as he located his field fear toxin antidote kit. He opened it, quickly pulling out a small vial, and a syringe.

Jason’s eyes snapped to the syringe in Tim’s hand as he filled with antidote. Jason grew quiet for a second before starting to try to fight Tim off of him, “No, no no no no no no! Don’t go! don’t go! Not again, I can’t be alone, can’t be asleep he’s gonna kill us. Dad said he’ll get rid’f his mistakes!”

Tim knew Bruce wouldn’t have ever threatened Jason like that. He could only assume Jason meant his biological father.

“Said he would--don’t, don’t! It’s crushing me I can’t be alone!” Jason couldn’t keep hold of his own fears. They ran together, all mixed in to become some dread filled nightmare he couldn’t wake up from.

Tim was lucky Jason was so sloppy in this state. If he’d had a bit more of his wits about him, Tim figured Jason would’ve easily shaken him off already.

“You aren’t alone!” Tim reminded Jason, struggling to inject Jason without hurting him. “This is going to make it stop, I promise!” Well, that wasn’t fully true. But the dose would reduce it.

When Jason wouldn’t hold still enough for him to properly gauge where the vein he needed was, Tim unceremoniously jabbed at where he hoped it was instead.

Jason shouted, thrashing around like a heavy shark in a net being lifted out of water.

Tim pulled the empty syringe away quickly, letting Jason throw him off. He stumbled and crashed back down, landing on the concrete floor a few feet away. Tim only now realized how heavy his breath was as he watched Jason writhe freely on the floor before him. As Tim caught his breath, Jason’s movements gradually began to slow. The mutterings of fear faded into soft whimpers, then into deep breaths like Tim’s. Tim bit at his lip again. “Jason?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.

Jason groaned in response. He took a moment to collect himself as he grew conscious of reality again. Really, reality was a shit hole too, but it was a better shit hole. He shifted slightly, cussing under his breath.

Tim felt an invisible weight lift from his shoulders; swearing like a sailor was promising in Jason’s case.

He quickly scooted across the floor to him.

“Hey,” Tim said in a hushed voice. “Jason? How you feeling?”

Jason--with what felt like the struggle of Sisyphus rolling his boulder for the millionth time--rolled over to face him. The white shock of hair stuck to Jason’s forehead with panic induced sweat. He puffed out a lungful of air in a feeble attempt to blow the hair from his face. Jason swiftly gave up on that and swallowed heavily.

“I-I... yeah, yeah, I uh... I--okay. I’m feeling okay,” Jason rambled, looking dazed. He took up scanning the room again, hyper-vigilant to any danger.

Tim nodded slowly. He grabbed a water bottle that was shoved in one of his many pouches. He helped Jason sit up, just enough so he could sip at the water, and forced the bottle into Jason’s hands.

“Drink,” Tim ordered, quietly.

Jason’s hands still shook lightly, causing him to fumble with the cap in his hands.

Now that the danger had passed, Tim finally had time to process what had happened; he often found himself acting and only having time to absorb the details afterwards. Details like that Jason had traded his safety and immunity for Tim’s.

Why did Jason do that?

“Not... that I’m ungrateful,” Tim began hesitantly, “but that was a stupid thing to do, just… now- today,” he stumbled out awkwardly.

“I know,” gasped Jason after a long chug of water, a weak smile on his lips.

“I mean--it’s like in those before flight messages on planes. Put your mask on before the baby’s or whatever,” Tim joked slightly. Tim’s nose wrinkled slightly, cringing just the tiniest bit as he realized he implied he was the baby in this situation, “Well, you know what I’m getting at…”

Jason seemed to only take even more amusement out of the teen’s regret. Tim never thought he’d see the day where he felt tension draining at the sigh of Jason Todd, a man that tried to kill him and about eighty other people, smiling.

Jason laughed weakly, though it came out a little haltingly, as the shivering shakes hadn’t yet subsided. “Yeah, well, I d-did have my mask on. I just... gave it to the k-kid before the plane went down,” he mused. He didn’t really believe in his own point, and shook his head.

“No, no you’re right. It was stupid and I know that.”

They fell into a slightly awkward silence for a second, the burning question still gnawing at Tim’s mind.

“Why?” Tim said, abruptly. “Er, why did you do that? If you knew it was stupid?”

Jason didn’t answer for a long moment. Instead stalling by taking another swig of water. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before answering.

“I don’t know,” Jason admitted, with a little smile.

Jason was breathing heavily, but seemed more focused, “I didn’t... really think. Maybe I was just makin’ up for other stuff I f-fucked up or... dunno. I guess I j-just... I knew if one of us was gonna be safe, it had to be y-ou.”

Jason swore he could practically see the little loading sign twirl in Tim’s nerd-brain as the teen processed what he’d said. The mental loading bar filled, and Jason’s words seemed to click. Tim’s eyes dropped away, and he smiled a little shyly. Not an awkward or uncomfortable smile. Just complimented.

“Thanks,” Tim’s voice was just above a whisper, “ that was... really nice of you.”

“It’s okay, don’t men-ention it. Like literally ever. It’ll ruin my rep,” Jason cracked a teasing smirk once again and Tim got to his feet laughing lightly.

“Annnnddd he’s back to normal,” Tim chuckled and offered Jason a hand. Tim yanked him, not without obvious difficulty, up to stand tall. Jason leaned on him for a moment before straightening, keeping a hand on Tim’s shoulder to steady himself. Tim quickly bent down and scooped up their masks from the floor where he’d set them down.

“Let’s get you home,” Tim hummed, putting Jason’s arm around his shoulders again when he stood.

“Hey, I’m fin-ne, you don’t have to take me back,” Jason argued, but Tim was already starting to lead him away.

“Too bad, I decided I am.”

“Rep-placement Robin number whatever you are--I am fine!”

“Sure you are, that’s why you can’t stand up right by yourself?”

“Shut up!”

“I speak only truth.”

The two bickered all the way back through away from the docks. All the way back through the city. All the way until they reached Jason’s apartment complex. Then they bickered some more. Though neither knew it yet, what had begun forming was the beginning of a close bond. One that nothing would be able to break.

#batman #robin #jason todd #redhood #red hood #Tim Drake #red robin #batfam big bang 2021 #Just for Fun #idk how tumblr works

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cloudwithoutsilverlining · 4 years

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please tell us more about co-archivists au 👉👈 i am very excited to hear your essay

BLESS UR HEART ANON I was NOT expecting anyone to actually read my tags <3

ANYWAY, thanks so much for asking and here are my vaguely comprehensive ideas for co-archivist AU here we go (it’s gonna get pretty long so I’m putting it under a cut lol)

Seasons 1+2 would probably go pretty much the same - Elias still chooses Jon alone as archivist and canon proceeds as is up until Infestation. Sasha still gets Not-Them’d but she doesn’t cease to exist, instead ending up trapped in some liminal space. She was already strongly tied to Beholding and so is able to be claimed by the Eye to escape the Stranger (think Mike Crew getting claimed by the Vast to escape the Spiral) which allows her to break out of the clutches of the Not-Them. Meanwhile, in the tunnels, Leitner tries to trap the Not-Them with the Buried book and instead the thing is psychically ripped apart from the inside out, the memories of Real Sasha are instantly airdropped back into everyone’s brains, Sasha wakes up in a pile of broken table fragments, and gets the hell out of there.

From there, the start of s3 is pretty much the same for Jon (he and Leitner decide that the book had some sort of unforeseen adverse affect on the Not-Them that exploded it somehow) - he flees the institute after finding Leitner’s body, hides out with Georgie, and so on. Everyone assumes Sasha’s dead, except for Elias, obviously, who Knows not only is she alive, but she’s well on her way to becoming an Archivist. (He’s not going to do anything about it - sure, it’s more moving parts than he was counting on, but a backup Archivist could prove useful if something were to happen to Jon. Plus he’s already got a bet going with Peter over which of them will make it to the end.)

Sasha, consumed by the beholding-typical hunger for information, seeks out The Distortion - Michael helped her that one time, after all. She gets hints of usefulness from him (though he insists on using 80-word-long names for all the entities) but mostly he speaks in riddles and is generally frustrating. I’m also gonna say they have a Jude Perry handshake moment except instead of boiling wax it’s knife hands because I love parallels.

She leaves the Spiral with a vague understanding that entities are a thing and starts basically throwing herself into situations fitting their various motifs and hoping for an encounter. One of them seems related to heights? Guess she’s going skydiving. (I stand by my headcanon that Sasha is at least as if not more impulsive than Jon. In s1 while he was like “well I guess I’ll keep an eye out for more statements about Prentiss and hopefully get more information” she went straight to “I personally am gonna hunt down this nightmare worm monster! How dangerous can she be she’s only killed like 5 people that we know of + I’m too curious to leave it alone!” I mean seriously.) While this is a great way to accumulate a lot of Marks for herself, it’s not a great way to find out anything useful. Plus she’s nearly gotten herself killed a bunch of times, so clearly she needs a new approach.

She goes to find Michael again but instead finds Helen, who’s much more inclined to be helpful. She fills Sasha in about how Jon’s also going Archivist, and gives her a door to find him. Sasha steps through the door and emerges in a clearing in the woods where Daisy’s just about to slit Jon’s throat.

Suffice it to say, when a yellow door appears from nothing in the middle of the woods and dead-for-a-year Sasha James steps out of it, Daisy is very surprised. The resulting altercation leaves Sasha marked by the Hunt but the situation calms down after the arrival of Basira who points out that, when facing Elias, surely two avatars are better than one.

Events of s3 from there on play out basically like they do in canon except this time the archivist’s not alone, which helps with the whole “turning into an avatar” identity crisis. Don’t get me wrong, they’re both still freaking out, but they’re freaking out TOGETHER so it’s not as bad. It’s nice to have someone to talk to about weird Beholding stuff, especially when they literally share your brainwaves. (I’d imagine there are a lot of moments when everyone’s just sitting around resolutely doing no work when both Sasha and Jon abruptly stand up, point to each other, and yell some random thing that means absolutely nothing to anyone else but them because Beholding just airdropped them some knowledge. Also since the archivist power is split between the two of them, when they go into Statement mode they end up speaking in unison, Sasha’s right eye and Jon’s left both glowing. It’s very creepy for anyone watching.)

Then comes the Unknowing, and Tim blows up, but instead of dying like in canon, he gets pulled back into the realm of the Stranger along with the rest of the Unknowing and trapped there. When Jon and Sasha wake up from their twin comas, Basira tells them he’s dead, but Sasha realizes that somehow she Knows he’s not. With Jon’s help she uses Beholding (all-seeing) to break into the realm of the Stranger (concealment) and pull him out, and later Jon does the same for Martin in the Lonely.

And in the end, yes, they both end up marked by all the entities, and the world still ends, and things are still pretty bad. But at least they have all four of them (the og archive team) to deal with it. And at least, when Jon needs to info dump about cursed beholding information, he can talk to Sasha. And at least, when Martin would really like some company that isn’t someone possessed by an omnipotent eyeball god, he can talk to Tim. Which I think would help with morale if nothing else.

(Thanks for sticking to the end of all that lol - I meant it when i said i had a lot of thoughts)

#tma #jonathan sims #sasha james #co-archivists au #cloudwithoutsilverlining.txt #answered asks #anonymous #thanks so much for your ask #also i actually got 2 asks about this! I'll answer the other one in just a bit #also this is ok to rb if anyone feels so inclined!

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itbe-jess · 3 years

Text

Masklophobia: Chapter 5

This chapter is brought to you by The Banana Splits: Sloppy Nights, by Fazie Funbear. (Game can be downloaded for free on Gamejolt)

And Miss Yum-Yum's Canned Human Luncheon Meat. (Processed with the paradise's most elegant seasonings, with no fillers or cereal binders)

Everything that happened on that date, October 17, 1992, was all caught on security footage. Anyone to watch them would probably not retain their sanity. Late at 5:48 AM, the evidently missing Karl Rodriguez snuck into the studio, wearing his King Karl costume. While inside, he commenced with some really unusual mischief. Breaking all the phones he could find in the building, and tampering with the locks on every door, even the windows. After that, he invited all of his "friends" inside. The actors of Karl's Paradise, wearing their costumes.

The actors spoke to Karl, in a language that didn't sound human, or English for that matter. Snarling, gargling, moaning, and growling, that was the talk of zombies. They also sounded like they were woefully ravenous. The Critters went up to Karl, as though they're expecting him to give them something. Possibly food. Karl, getting into his TV show character, calmed them down.

"Now now, my subjects! I can see plain as day that you are all utterly famished! Don't worry, you'll get what you wanted for days. Just have to wait a little teensy bit longer! Remember: Good things come to those who wait!"

He then told the Critters to get into their positions. "Like we rehearsed," Karl mentioned. The day arrived, and Karl was waiting patiently in the office of Andy Matthews, the network executive. Everyone entered the building without any awareness of the doors. Employees, actors, all thinking they were gonna safely go home when the day is done. The only one of the Critters that was out in the open was Barkstone, which everyone called while looking with judgement, "Stevie."

Everyone just passed by while being weirded out. All Barkstone did was casually wave. The only person he gained attention from was the studio producer, who was holding his cellular phone. The man had gotten concerned over "Stevie," wearing his hot sweaty costume, in a studio he no longer works in. When the producer began to ask questions, Barkstone only gestured the producer to follow him.

Dressing room cam: An actress comes in, about to get ready for her next shoot, when suddenly she noticed Saxxo was in her company, playing his saxophone. Funny, whenever Saxxo played his sax on camera, the music would come out of a stereo, played by someone else doing the sax. He really sounded like he was playing the sax. How could he play that thing in that costume, she thought. The actress was quite amused by the act. She already had a boyfriend, but "Drew" really impressed her.

She asked how he did it, but Saxxo spoke not. Instead, he signaled her to sing with him, playing a familiar tune he hoped she understood. Despite the actress thinking she doesn't sing well, she did it anyways for fun. Together, the two made quite a musical duet. She was having such a great time with "Drew" that she completely forgot about the role she was supposed to get dressed for. R-E-S-P-E-C-T! Find out what it means to me! R-E-S-P-E-C-T! take care, TCB! The manager was outside of the room, listening to the whole performance.

Then, just when her mouth was wide opened, trying to hit the high notes, Saxxo dropped his sax, grabbed the actress, and jammed a lollipop prop down her throat. He did it at quick ease so her screams couldn't be heard. There was choking, saliva trickling, blood dripping, and eventually after 30 seconds, complete silence.

The manager knocked on the door, asking the actress if she were alright. Worried, he barged in. Nobody was in the room, but the actress's disturbing choked corpse. The manager dropped down to his knees, and held the body to his so he could examine her pulse. He tried to pull out the lollipop prop. Saxxo came out of hiding. When the manager saw Saxxo's feet, he looked up at the towering mascot before him. Then, the tiger bashed his saxophone against the man's face, hard enough to instanly kill him.

Costume room cam: A page enters the room, to check on the costumes. One in particular caught his eye, and that was the Slouch suit, hanging on the wall. Strange, he said to himself, that wasn't in here before. And it wasn't supposed to be there either. Before Karl left, he took all of his costumes with him, and he was sure he brought along Slouch too. He doesn't know where Karl is, but he might as well take that suit down anyways. When he got closer, he noticed a few things off about the costume.

For one thing, the costume smelled bad. Another thing, he could've sworn he heard faint breathing, outside of the suit, not inside. Lastly, the costume looked as though someone was already wearing it, based on its bulkiness. Curious, the page slowly reached for the mask, to see if anything was inside the costume. Slouch wrapped his arms around the page, in a very tight grasp. It brought the page into a struggle, but he couldn't squirm from the orangutan's strength. He began crying for help, but Slouch shut him up by biting off the top of his head.

Ventilation room cam: Barkstone was boring the producer to death with magic tricks he didn't know how to do. With Barkstone's show being a waste of time, the producer decided to save the questions for later, and get back on schedule. However, Barkstone grabbed the man's cellular phone, placed it in a tiny sack, then tapped on it a few times with his wand. As expected, the phone was in pieces, beyond repair.

"Okay, WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS, STEVIE?! Why are you still wearing that stupid costume, why are you doing this nonsense shit, and why are you wasting my goddamn tim-"

But Barkstone had one more trick in mind. The blue dog backed the producer into a box, then locked him in. That made the man angrier, cursing to the top of his lungs. He wasn't angry for long once he saw Barkstone take out a saw. A real saw, and not a plastic one. First the dog pulled a handkerchief from out of his glove, and stuffed it into the man's mouth so his screams become inaudible. He was finally gonna perform a trick he never got a chance to do.

Then, he started sawing through the box, just how an unprofessional magician would do it. The producer's screams were loud, but good thing that hanky deafened them a bit. On the floor spilled sawdust and blood. Eventually, when his saw cut its way through the box, and the screaming stopped. Barkstone then divided the box in half. The entrails, with more pools of blood, poured out. The proud dog took a bow to his imaginary audience.

Lounge cam: Two male crew members were both having coffee, while bonding over small chat. As one of them turned around, Mama LongLegs decended upside down from the ceiling. With stealth, she put her first set of hands on crew member #1's mouth to silence him, and used her second set to give his neck a quick snap. When crew member #2 turned back around, wondering why his pal didn't answer his question, what he found was an unpleasant surprise. His pal lying dead on the floor, with a snapped neck.

Before he could run, Mama LongLegs reappeared, still upside down. One of her six hands grabbed hold of the man's head, to have him facing her. The pink spider delivered a "Shhhhhhh...", then took out a pair of tongs. What did she do with the tongs? Ripped his throat right out of his neck. With another victim down, LongLegs took that throat and ate it whole. After that, she made her exit by crawling into the vent.

Hallway 3 cam: Another male crew member was walking down the hall, talking on his beeper. Fins was hiding in the corner, with a pail of water. When the crew member came by, Fins splashed him with the liquid, then stepped on his beeper. That made the crew member furious, but that was Fins' general idea, as she put her fins over her large mouth and laughed. She also spat on him, hoping to make him mad enough to have him follow her to her trap. For a test, she ran into the men's room. The plan had worked as the man went after "Rebecca" there.

We see from the footage that he entered the men's room with her. Although they were now out of the camera's view, we can only figure out what's happening by the sounds. First we heard angry words from the crew member, then confused words, then splashing noises, then drowning gargle noises. A female crew member heard the commotion, then knocked, asking "What the hell is going on in there?" Fins pulled her inside. Instead of the same noises, we heard violent tears, screams of pain, and before you knew it, blood leaked from under the restroom's gap.

Designer room cam: The art designer rushed into the office, and slammed the door shut. She couldn't lock it, since her lock was still broken, so all she could do was hide. But where? We can clearly tell she's been in a chase, with how heavy she was breathing. When she heard the knob turn, her panicked instincts made her press against the corner wall, where she'd be hidden behind the door once her chaser enters. The chaser invites themself in. It appears that the art designer was set in a wild goose chase.

Van Goose looked left, and she looked right. She saw the woman run into this room, so she's got to be somewhere. She decided to search all around. The art designer remained hidden behind the door, trying to mute her breathing. Van Goose suddenly hesitated, like she were thinking for a moment. And so, the goose walked backwards to where she came in, and took the door as she began to close it very slowly. The art designer poked her head forward, as she felt like it was now safe to come out.

SLAM! These Paradise Critters were more clever than you think. Van Goose just crushed the art designer between the wall, and the door. Her body was now a big splattered mess. She saw the art designer run into this room, so she had to be somewhere. Van Goose made the best of it by taking some blood off with a paintbrush, and painted herself a "cute" little picture on the wall.

Kitchen cam: It seems Yum-Yum was getting ahead of her friends. She had one crew member burning in the oven, another one stuck into a pot of boiling water, and right now she was filleting an actor on the counter. The director walks in and witnessed the horrifying scene. Yum-Yum put down her cleaver and grabbed the woman. The bear looked around the kitchen to find anything useful. She already has something cooking in the oven. There's no room in the boiling pot. Maybe... Nah, the blender and food processor were too small.

Until she spotted the microwave. Microwaves are pretty convenient for cooking instant meals. She opened the door, and forced the director's head inside. Next, she turned on the settings. The director struggled, but failed to make the slightest budge from Yum-Yum's grip. All she could do was scream as the radiation started to effect her head, and then eventually get nuked.

Main stage floor cam: Junior was doing nothing more but riding on the presentation cart, like an average child. Crew members were attempting to stop him, and at the same time avoid him constantly, but Junior refused to listen. Soon, one of them tripped, which gave Junior the opportunity to run straight through his body, three times or four. The woolly mammoth eventually knocked down some crew members on his own, and did the same to them too. The rest then decided to just run away instead of trying to stop Junior, and the mammoth wheeled after them.

The crew members who'd been run over by the cart weren't entirely dead, but rather severely injured. ...really, really badly. Just then, they got finished off as some stage lights fell on their faces. It wasn't from Junior, but a friend who was trying to help out. Slouch the orangutan was up on the power grids, hanging bodies by their intestines.

Control room cam: Finally, we are brought to LabRat. He had one crew member tied to a chair, and another one strapped to a serving cart. To the victim on the chair, he ripped out some wires from the machinery, and electrocuted the man to a crisp. LabRat got electrocuted himself in the process, but it didn't effect him whatsoever. Besides, this is what mad scientists are supposed to do.

To the victim on the serving cart, LabRat started to slip on some gloves, then took out a scalpel. What the giant rat intends to do is dissect the crew member alive. He sliced open the guy's stomach in a single cut. LabRat placed both of his hands inside, feeling at the squishy organs. He pulled out the kidney, the stomach, the spleen, the liver, the pancreas, the large intestines, the small intestines, and last but not least, the beating heart. Just as the crew member was now dead, LabRat licked his gloves clean of the blood.

More and more people became aware of the massacre, and there was nothing they could do about it. They couldn't leave on account of all the doors being locked on the outside. They couldn't contact help on account of all of the phones being destroyed, and the Critters snatched every electronic they had on them. They couldn't kill them on account that they would just heal, either from a mere slash or a stab. Nobody's screams could carry out of Tam, due to the studio's thick walls.

Main entrance cam: Andy arrived into the studio, but as he saw all those fractured, mangled, and slaughtered corpses, he turned back to the door for his quick exit. But the door was locked from the outside, to prevent his escape. He banged his fist against the door, and tried to call for help. Saxxo grabbed the executive by the shoulders, and held onto him. He was just the man they've been waiting for, and they can't do anything until they hear the command from King Karl. The music played to signal him.

🎵Heyyyyyyyyy!

Wouldn't you like to go far away?

To a wonderful place, you say?

Where all your friends are here everyday!

Karl's Paradise is where to stay!🎵

Not very long, all the Critters gathered up to meet Saxxo at the main entrance, and King Karl came out to introduce himself to his old "pal" Andy.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE, KARL?!! WHAT IS THIS?!! HAVE YOU GONE CRAZY?!!"

"Uh uh uh, Andy! The rules of the Paradise states that you must be on your best behavior! That includes watching your profanity!"

"WHY ARE YOU ACTING THIS WAY?! DON'T TELL ME THIS HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH YOUR DAMN SHOW BEING CANCELLED!!"

"Ah, you're a fast learner! You see, as king of the Paradise, it is my duty to make sure all of my subjects are happy, including myself! And when you take away the thing that means so much to me, that makes me unhappy. So, if you're not gonna cooperate in the Paradise, I kindly ask you to leave. Or better yet... ...split!"

Saxxo released Andy's shoulders and grabbed for his arm. Barkstone grabbed the other arm. Van Goose and Fins took his legs. The four Critters started to tug in opposite directions. Andy let out some blood curdling screams. Karl was singing a musical number from his show, "Why Win When You Can Have Fun," as the others danced in place. They made it look like it were a happy time, when it really wasn't. The four Critters kept tugging with all their might, until Andy's limbs ultimately popped off.

Karl stopped singing and announced to his Critters that they shall have a feast to celebrate. Andy's limbless corpse was left to lie there on the floor. He was still alive, but he would eventually die soon from blood drainage. Feeling helpless, all the man could do was weep in pain.

Karl's Paradise was made possible by the unfortunate fools who failed to escape their fate here at the now confined Tam Studios, and viewers like you. Thank you.

#The Banana Splits Movie #Remake #horror #original characters #Masklophobia #Blood tw #Gore tw #(I guess text limitation works better on desktop site)

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bisexualsforprompto · 4 years

Note

I think this is sort of a prompt, but hear me out, Damian is always the "smoth flirt" in every daminette fic i've read so far, but what if for the first time in his life he starts being "the awkward teenage boy with a massive crush" with all the awkward laughing and blushing and mumbling: why did i do/say that!?!? That kind of stuff.

We’ll Have Tomorrow

Shoves this down your throat, “HAVE SOME MORE FLUFF!”

Anyone know the two obvious references lol? One is the title.

Family ‘fun’ night was not something Damian wanted to be doing. Everytime West-Reeves had one he made sure that the flyer didn’t make it home, so his family didn’t know about it.

But this year was different, this year West-Reeves mailed flyers for Family fun night.

Though Damian couldn’t imagine how it could be fun and he begged Bruce not to make him go, his father insisted. Damian sighed, his family and fun were oxymorons. His only hope was that he wouldn’t have to interact with anyone, and that his family would decide to leave early, but all that changed when he saw Marinette Dupain-Chang sitting alone on the bleachers. Before he could stop himself, he rushed up to her.

“You are an adequate companion.” Damian blushed before turning his head away. His face was beet red, so much so that it looked like he was going to pass out.

“T-thanks?” Marinette whispered as Damian ran off without another word.

‘Stupid!’ He berated himself as he walked over to his family. ‘You are an adequate companion?! Very forward Wayne! You may as well be the playboy they call your father!’

Damian huffed as he walked behind Dick. He folded his arms and inadvertently started pouting.

“Sooooo,” Jason teased, “Who was that?”

“None of your business, Todd!” Damian barked causing Jason to hold his hands up in mock surrender. Damian straightened out his school uniform, proud that he got Jason to stop his nonsense until-

“Demon Spawn was talking to a girlllll.” Jason singsonged. Dick held in a laugh while Tim laughed shamelessly. Luckily for them, Bruce was talking with one of the teachers and wasn’t there to get them to stop.

Damian’s face heated up, it was enough his family was mocking him, but Damian did really like Marinette and he would not let his family screw it up...well not before he screwed it up himself. He sighed, rubbing his temples. Between seeing Marinette and dealing with his insufferable family, it was going to be a long night.

Damian made his way to the concession stand with his brothers, he was trying to stay away from the crowd, but unfortunately for him where his brothers dragged him was one of the more popular places.

Damian was quick to recognize the two people running the concessions as Sabine Chang and Tom Dupain, Marinette’s parents. They had only met on a couple occasions when they picked Marinette up from an after school club, which wasn’t often. They seemed very nice, but Damian prayed they wouldn’t talk to him because then his idiot brothers would find out more about Marinette, which would certainly lead to disaster. Damian tried to hide behind his brothers before they saw him.

“Hey there Damian!” Tom said in accented English. Too late.

Damian cleared his throat, “Good evening Mr. Dupain, and Mrs. Chang.”

“Please dear,” Sabine smiled, “Call me Sabine. I’m guessing these are your brothers? Marinette told us you had quite a few!”

“Yes these would be-“

“We’re his brothers!” Dick beamed, “It’s very nice to meet you! Would Marinette happen to be the girl over there?” He pointed to a young girl in a pink hoodie sitting on the bleachers, who was focusing intently on her sketchbook.

“Yep, that’s Marinette! You really can’t pull her from her work.” Tom let out a chuckle, “I’m Tom Dupain by the way, this is my wife Sabine.”

“A pleasure! I’m Dick Grayson, the one on my left is Jason Todd, and the one to my right is Tim Drake.”

Jason got an evil glint in his eyes when he realized the girl they pointed to was the same one Damian had spoken to before turning red as a tomato.

Sabine gave Tom a worried look, “I wish she wouldn’t work so much. This was supposed to be a day where she spent time with her friends without stressing.”

Jason smirked, “If you want I’m sure the Demon could keep her company.”

“The Demon?”

Dick flicked Jason on the ear, “He means Damian. You really shouldn’t call him that.”

Jason shrugged. Damian’s facial expressions were screaming at his brothers to not make him go, but Sabine and Tom didn’t notice.

“Would you sit with her dear? Even if you can’t tear her away from her work, I’d at least like her to talk with a friend.”

Before Damian could answer, Dick spun him around and pushed him off into Marinette’s direction. Damian scowled before seeing the hopeful expressions of Marinette’s parents' faces. He sighed to himself and walked over to her.

“H-hi.” Damian stuttered before clearing his throat. ‘Great start Wayne...’ He chastised himself.

Marinette looked up briefly, a blush forming on her cheeks. “H-hey there Damian. You are how? I mean, how are you?”

Damian fought a blush, the way she stumbled on her words was maybe a little cute. He gathered some confidence, he was a Wayne. He was Robin. Talking to a girl, pshh! Child’s play. He could do this.

“I’m well. How are you, Marinette?”

“I-I’m grool!” She facepalmed and her face got red, “I was going to say great, but then I was gonna say cool and I got-“

“Grool.” Damian smirked. Marinette gave him a shy smile, he felt his cheeks get hot. He could not do this.

As Marinette took a deep breath and her face turned less red she opened up her sketchbook, “I’ve been working on a commission for a couple of the seniors going to prom, w-would you like to see?”

Damian nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. She grinned and opened to a bookmarked page.

On it was a spectacular navy blue gown that Damian ended up picturing Marinette in.

“Beautiful.” He said, still lost in his fantasy with Marinette in the dress.

“T-thanks Damian. That a lot means...Means a lot.” Marinette giggled.

Marinette went back to sketching silently and Damian pulled out his own sketchbook. He set out to work, sneaking glances at Marinette from time to time as she focused on her drawing, sticking her tongue out slightly whenever she erased something.

Before he knew it his father, brothers and Marinette’s parents were at the bleachers.

“Marinette it’s time to go!”

Marinette quickly snapped out of her fashion trance and hurried down the bleachers. She waved a goodbye to Damian as he followed her down to go back with his family.

Bruce exchanged greetings with Marinette’s parents. Damian and Marinette looked at each other once before blushing and looking away. Dick gave Jason a knowing smile. Jason, with a gleam in his eye, started poking Damian, causing him to drop his sketchbook. Before he realized, it was in Dick’s hand and a page had already been ripped out.

Damian continued to argue with Jason as Dick silently made his way over to Marinette.

“Here,” he said, gently pressing the paper in her hand, “I think he’d want you to have it.”

As Dick walked back Marinette opened the folded paper and gaped in awe. Pink settled onto her cheeks as she stared at the majestic sketch of her done by Damian. She folded it and stuck it into her pocket.

Her brain was going into overdrive, but she knew she needed to see Damian before he left the school grounds and talk to him, maybe he felt the same as her.

But when she looked up all the Waynes had disappeared and her Maman and Papa started leading her to the car.

‘Next time, Damian.’ She thought as she studied the portrait of her, ‘Next time.’

Damian closed the car door wordlessly, imagining Marinette in the brilliant blue dress again, a blush forming on his cheeks. Maybe he could tell her how he felt.

‘Next time, Marinette.’ He thought, looking out the window, ‘Next time.’

#maribat #daminette fluff #daminette #damianette

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sohotthateveryonedied · 4 years

Text

Just the Same

Summary:

“You’re sick.”

“You’re ugly.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone you weren’t feeling well?”

“I’m fine.” Jason closes his eyes. “Just a little tired.”

“Uh-huh. And that’s why you have a fever?”

Read it here on AO3!

Bruce has a very simple plan for tonight, alright? He’s going to grab a quick post-patrol snack from the kitchen, then he’s going to take a shower, and then he will go promptly to bed. He’s tired. It’s been a long day. He just wants to sleep. (You absolute fool, the goblin in his brain screeches at him, because the goddamn Batman cannot get a goddamn break or else the world will literally split in two.) Fatefully, Bruce passes the den’s open doorway while half of his mind is preoccupied with sending Dick a goodnight text, and he happens to glance into the room. That’s when he stops in his tracks. Even more fatefully, Alfred is coming down the hall in Bruce’s direction, carrying a tray with a single cup of tea on it. “Alfred?” “Yes, Master Bruce?” “Were you aware that Jason was home?” Alfred looks over at where Jason is asleep on the den sofa, still in his leather jacket and boots. He doesn’t look remotely surprised by the sight. Then again, is Alfred ever surprised? “Master Jason got in while you were on patrol. I offered to make him dinner, but he said he wasn’t hungry.” Then there’s that classic Alfred Pennyworth eyebrow crease. “When he wakes up, do inform him that one does not forgo the need for nutrition when one has been dipped in a Lazarus Pit.” “I’ll be sure to do that.” “Now, if you will excuse me.” Alfred walks off with his perfectly level tray, on a perilous journey to Damian’s room. Bruce envies him. At least Alfred gets to go to sleep after Damian gets his nighttime tea. Bruce enters the den carefully, without a sound. God knows Jason hardly sleeps through the night without interruption as it is. Now, at least, he looks peaceful enough. So much time has passed since his last haircut that his hair curls against his temple, plastered with sweat. He must have come here straight from Red Hood business. At least he didn’t get blood on the couch this time. Quietly, Bruce pulls the knitted throw blanket from where it’s draped over the back of the sofa and lays it over Jason, tucking it in close when he catches a shiver rattling Jason’s teeth. Now that he’s paying attention, he can see that Jason’s cheeks are flushed as well. His mouth is locked in a grimace, even in sleep. Bruce presses the back of his hand against Jason’s forehead and clicks his tongue. Definitely a fever. Jason’s eyebrows wrinkle at the touch. His eyes crack open and take a moment to land on Bruce, sitting on the edge of the couch by Jason’s torso. It says a lot that he doesn’t go into battle mode as soon as he registers an unfamiliar presence in the room. “Mmph. Go away.” “You’re sick.” “You’re ugly.” “Why didn’t you tell anyone you weren’t feeling well?” “I’m fine.” Jason closes his eyes. “Just a little tired.” “Uh-huh. And that’s why you have a fever?” “Why don’t you mind your fucking—” Jason tumbles into a coughing fit, wet and hacking. “I’ll be right back,” Bruce tells him with a parting pat on the knee. His knees creak as he stands, heading for the bathroom down the hall. He digs through the medicine cabinet until he finds the thermometer, one of many that Alfred keeps in every bathroom in the house. He grabs a bottle of Tylenol as well. Bruce goes back to the couch and reclaims his spot next to Jason, who has stopped coughing by now, but his breathing is heavy. Bruce touches the thermometer to Jason’s temple, ignoring his weak swats. It reads out a hundred and one degrees. “When did you start feeling sick?” Jason grunts and rolls onto his side, curling in on himself. “Dunno. Yesterday, I guess.” Bruce frowns. Of course Jason would ignore any achy feelings for as long as possible. None of Bruce’s kids have a single self-preserving bone in their bodies. “Tell me your symptoms.” “Being a fucking snack.” “Jason.” Jason coughs. “Leave me alone, old man.” “Does your throat hurt?” “Yeah, so quit trying to make me talk.” “Any nausea?” Jason buries his face into a throw pillow. “You’re fuckin’ exhausting, you know that?” He sighs. “Not since last night. I’m freezing, lethargic, and my head is killing me. Happy?” Bruce hums. “It’s probably the flu.” “Yeah, no shit.” Jason closes his eyes. “Now will you leave me alone? You’re making my headache worse.” Bruce twists open the Tylenol cap and shakes out a couple of tablets into his palm. “Here.” He holds them out to Jason. Jason opens one eye, looks at the pills, and closes it again. “No.” “Jason—” “No. Don’t like pills.” Bruce can’t say he didn’t expect as much. Still, it does Jason no favors to continuously refuse any sort of medication, choosing to tough out the pain for as long as he can. It all ties back to his mother’s drug addiction, a disease which Jason watched slowly kill her over years and years. It makes sense that he’d grow up with an unwavering aversion to drugs. When Jason was a small tot, Bruce and Alfred spent what probably accumulated to hours of cajoling, trying to talk Jason into taking even the lightest painkillers. Lidocaine and numbing solutions were fine, but anything resembling a narcotic was out—and still is, apparently. It makes Bruce wonder how Jason reacted to the Lazarus Pit and its euphoria-inducing waters—part of the whole “magical healing” process. Maybe he was too out of his mind at the time to form a solid thought, much less remember his childhood trauma. This is one fight Bruce chooses not to get into, so he recaps the Tylenol and sets it aside. Miraculously, Jason is already asleep again. That’s fine with Bruce; it’s better his son sleeps this flu off than wastes his energy arguing. Trying not to jostle him too much, Bruce takes off Jason’s boots and leaves them on the carpet. He grabs the TV remote and settles in on the couch with Jason’s feet in his lap, pulling up a nature documentary on hyenas that he and Damian haven’t had the chance to finish yet. Looks like he’ll be catching up on his sleep tomorrow night. Right now, Jason needs him (despite how fervently he’ll protest as much). Honestly, this whole situation brings Bruce back to the old days. After moving into the manor, it took over six months for Jason to completely recover from the years of malnutrition he suffered on the streets. His weight was far too low for a boy his age, even more scrawny than Tim. Alfred provided Jason with plenty of vitamin supplements and extra servings at dinner to bulk him up, but his immune system was shoddy at best no matter how much weight he gained. During his Robin era it was illness after illness, from the common cold to a whammying case of pneumonia. This is the first time Jason has been sick in Bruce’s presence since his death, though. Bruce is learning about the eating habits of hyenas when Tim comes in from the kitchen with a cup of peppermint tea, despite having supposedly gone to bed three hours ago. He stands there in the doorway for a moment, looks owlishly at Jason, then at Bruce, then back to Jason. He grins. “No,” Bruce says. “You don’t even know what I was going to do!” “I know you, and the answer is no.” “Jeez, Bruce. I’m not gonna kill him.” Tim attempts to cross his arms, forgetting that he’s holding hot tea, and hisses when it scalds his arm. “The hand-in-warm-water trick’s never hurt anyone,” he mutters. “Go back upstairs. You’ll get sick.” Tim wrinkles his nose. “This is prejudice against people without spleens, you know. I could sue your ass.” “Sue me from upstairs where I can comfortably know that you won’t die from the flu.” Tim rolls his eyes, but he goes. Bruce hears him stomp up the stairs, getting quieter and quieter until the footsteps are gone entirely. Bruce shakes his head. How did he ever think that having four boys would be a good idea? He questions his younger self’s judgement every day. For the next three hours, Jason sleeps in fits and starts. He never stays awake longer than five minutes at a time, drinking water when Bruce prods him to and grudgingly letting Bruce check his temperature for any spikes. Bruce learns quite a bit about hyenas in the meantime, until the documentary ends and a new one about sea otters begins. In between the hazy bouts of wakefulness, Jason tosses restlessly in the throes of nightmare after nightmare. Beads of sweat roll down his forehead. In the back of his mind Bruce wonders, is this just the fever talking or are nightmares a nightly villain for Jason? The latter would come as no shock, but that doesn’t mean he likes the idea. Bruce runs his fingers through Jason’s sweaty curls, a reflection of years ago when he would do the same thing any time Jason had a nightmare during his youth. Jason has been cheated out of peaceful nights from the beginning. Of course, back then there wasn’t a white streak splitting the darkness of his onyx hair—a reminder of the pit water swimming in Jason’s blood. Bruce moves a lock of hair off Jason’s forehead, gentle as a moth. Jason’s eyes fly open and he jerks away from the touch, a gasp ripping up his throat. Bruce doesn’t move. He gives Jason a moment to regain his bearings, stilling the hand in Jason’s hair. Green irises lock on Bruce, frenzied. “Where?” he croaks. “The manor.” Jason takes a deep breath in, clenching his jaw. “Okay.” He lets it out. “Okay.” Bruce grabs the water bottle he’s kept on the coffee table. “Here,” he says, moving his hand down to Jason’s back and prodding a shoulder blade. “Sit up.” “Fuck you.” It comes out half groan, the illness-wrought exhaustion catching back up with Jason. “You need to hydrate.” “Double fuck you.” Bruce shrugs. “Drink half of this or I’ll call Alfred and have him convince you. Your choice.” Jason rolls his eyes and snatches the bottle. Bruce will take that as a victory. Jason sits up with enormous effort, groaning at the aches in his body until he’s upright next to Bruce. He drinks the water, wincing when it hits his sore throat. “What were you dreaming about?” Bruce ventures to ask. Jason lowers the bottle to narrow his eyes at Bruce like he’s the biggest idiot in this room. “Shut up.” The annoying part is that Bruce genuinely has no idea what Jason’s nightmare could have been about. His childhood? His death? His resurrection? Any of the traumatic things that could have happened afterward, ones that Bruce wasn’t there for? There is such a disconnect between the two of them now. He should count it a blessing that they have moments like this, though Bruce would greatly prefer spending time with Jason while he isn’t sick and miserable. But Bruce will take it, nonetheless. Jason drains a sufficient amount of water, only to lurch forward in another coughing fit as soon as he gets in a breath. “Christ,” he rasps, eyes watering. “Just fucking shoot me already, will ya?” Bruce rubs his back. “I could tranq you, if you really think it would help. But I can’t guarantee that one of your brothers won’t take advantage of that and draw mustaches on your face while I’m not looking.” “Har, har. You’re a fucking comedian now.” Jason’s voice is coarse as gravel, scraping up his vocal cords. “Want some tea? It’ll help soothe your throat.” “Later. Just wanna...sleep for now.” In spite of everything he stands for, Jason tips his head to rest it on Bruce’s shoulder. Whether it was intentional or he’s just so disoriented from the fever that he has no idea he’s even doing it, Bruce won’t take the gesture for granted. Jason is shivering, so Bruce pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders where it slackened during his sleep. Then, in a riskier maneuver, he puts his arm around Jason and pulls him in close like he did so many times when Jason was a lot shorter and a lot less jagged around the edges. Bcuce still loves him just the same. Jason leans into Bruce’s warmth instinctively, but he warns, “Tell anyone about this and I’ll shatter your clavicle.” “Mm-hm.” “I mean it. You’ll need a goddamn orthopedic surgeon to fix you up if you breathe a word of this to anyone.” “I believe you.” It must be a good enough answer because Jason closes his eyes, relaxing in Bruce’s hold. “The only reason I’m gonna say this is ‘cause my brain is melting,” Jason says, “but...thanks. For being here.” He yawns. “Being sick alone fuckin’ sucks.” “I hear you.” “And keep Tim away from me, ‘kay? I don’t trust the little snot not to pull something.” Bruce snorts and unpauses the otter movie. “Go to sleep, Jay.”

#batfamily #batfam #fanfic commission #sickfic #jason todd #red hood #batman #bruce wayne #robin #batman and robin #fanfiction #fanfic

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iphoenixrising · 4 years

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Hey babe!!! Love your work! 💜💋 After reading your newer works and re reading your ABO works I can just not stop thinking about what Tim would be like when he's really needy. Like after a long day of vigilanteing it up Tim is just absolutely wet for it and is pleasuring himself and dick and Jason walk in on it and Tim just begs for them

Well babe~

First off, I love that vigilanteing is now a word. So much yes.

Second!

Poor Timmy would just be so damn tired after a long few weeks without his Alphas while he’s been in the Tower fighting the good fight with his team, and he hasn’t had any time to take care of himself.

When he gets to the Penthouse in Gotham, he finds out Hood has been out of town with the Outlaws and Nightwing has Robin in New York for the weekend. The disappointment? Is real.

But if anything, Timmy is a planner, and puts his Perch on lockdown, turns off his comms and phone, sets a standard I’m out, fuck off message so he can just take a little time for himself.

(And it’s fucking awful how his instincts are so prevalent when the day is saved and the masks come off and he can be just Tim, just an Omega, he can give in when he needs to now because Dick and Jay, B and Alfred, Dami and Cass, Duke and Babs, all of them are just Pack and don’t judge him for it, just take him as he is…)

He gets something to drink, eats an apple, strips down to the bicycle shorts and tank under the body suit, grabs a quick shower so he’s clean, maybe plays a little while he’s in there and the hot water rushes over him, can give him the illusion of hands and mouths on his skin.

(But it isn’t enough. It isn’t them, not by a long shot.)

For the finale, he wants to tease himself a little, wants to be on his back with his legs spread, wants to close his eyes and think about Jay kneeling there, talking to him so sweetly, calling him ‘Sweets’ and ‘Sugar,’ wants to imagine those big hands moving up the insides of his thighs, wants to imagine Dick’s fingers and mouth moving over his sensitive chest, taking his time to find out more secrets of Tim’s body.

Even though his Alphas have…strong feelings about toys, the last time they found them and used them on him to make a very valid point that he should have called them first and foremost, they agree he should keep them for emergencies. So, the blue one is on his right side, the red one on his left, so he can imagine them both taking him one after another, knotting him, filling him so fucking full.

The scent of slick is strong in his bedroom with the door closed that he has to turn his face in their pillows and try catching a hint of their scents to go with it.

He starts with fingers, opening himself up less carefully than his Alphas do when he’s not in Heat, just wants to be filled and fucked, wants to come hard after so long denying the need.

He turns his head to lay the red one on the pillow and suck the tip in his mouth, working the blue one inside his tight, slick body, moaning around a mouthful when the toy starts to slide inside, the burning stretch what he’s been craving.

It’s easy to work one in his mouth, muffling himself while thrusting his hips into each stroke of the blue one, whimpering when he starts to get closer and closer, but just–

–can’t.

Nothing is bringing him close enough to actually come, no matter how fast and hard he works the blue toy, how deep he takes the red one in his throat, he just…he can’t get there, and the frustration is so real.

He’s so lost trying to get himself there he absolutely doesn’t hear the window slide up until it’s too late, and his Alphas step into the bedroom to the sight of Timmy almost crying in frustration, fucking himself within an inch of his life.

“Ooh, now ain’t that a purty sight,” Jay breathes, already pulling the helmet off to drop carelessly on the floor. He immediately starts salivating when he sees the red one buried in their Omega’s mouth, muffling his keens and whines.

“Best. Day. Ever,” Dick agrees wholeheartedly, gloves and gauntlets gone in a hot minute, almost ripping the Nightwing suit down to get it the fuck off so his scent can get through Timmy’s arousal.

Jay is absolutely on that train, guns quickly disarmed on the dresser, body armor thrown wherever it happens to land, and the echo of their purrs, the deep musks mixing with his scent is enough to rouse the pained Omega, for his eyes to crack open, dazed and wet with frustration and arousal. The red toy is slick with saliva when he finally pulls it out of his mouth, his chest pink, stuttering with each panting breath.

“Please,” is more of a raw whine than an actual plea, “I can’t…I need…help, please help–”

Dick gives absolutely no fucks strafing across the room with the suit flapping around his thighs, shoving Tim’s legs open with bare hands, his eyes a deeply feral blue. He catches the wrist frantically fucking the toy in and out of the drenched hole with obscenely wet sounds, and pulls the Nightwing blue knotting vibrator out without hurting their Omega while Jay takes the place right by Timmy’s shoulder, leaning down to get the taste of those whines, of that desperation.

Dick is fast about it, his inner Pack Alpha reacting to the tears and the scent of frustration tainting Tim’s normal sweetness. He throws those thighs back, already throbbing to be buried in that tight, warm heat.

“Jay,” is barely more than a growl, his second getting with the program to pull back from Tim’s mouth, turn him enough to bare his neck.

“Get ‘im, Baby Boy,” while his jaw opens wide.

Dick lines up and makes the first thrust in hard enough to bury himself to his fucking knot.

At the same time, Jay strikes.

The dual sensation of being fucked full and teeth sinking into his scent gland is enough for Tim’s whole body to arch, for the scream to echo through the bedroom, for his ass and cock to throb with the looming orgasm finally exploding, pleasure racing up his spine sharp and all-consuming to make him almost black out.

Dick barely pauses, starts a hard and fast rhythm, determined to work their Omega up to a second and possibly third, his eyes intense on Timmy’s dazed eyes and mouth pink from Jay’s kiss.

And, well, since he has good Alphas, he gets Jay’s cock fucking his mouth and Dick’s knot sliding home by the time he’s ready to come again. He moans and tightens down on Jay’s thighs, pulling him in further, trying to get him to–

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” The younger Alpha pants, “ya wanna I knot yer mouth? Get cha knotted up in both ends?”

The muffled moan around his cock answers the question well enough that he throws a thigh over their Omega’s face and works his hips harder, slides his knot halfway past Timmy’s lips, making sure he can take it.

But their bird always godda have a plan, and lurches up to fit the rest of Jay’s knot in his damn self.

“Oh! Oh my God he’s getting so tight around–!”“Jesus I’m dying, Dickie, I’m fucking dying.”“That’s it, Baby, take us both. So good, so good for us, came so hard, didn’t you?”

But Tim’s mouth is too full to reply, his eyes closed while he just sucks and swallows, gets a breath in when he can. And Jay is barely keeping himself braced on the headboard, looking down to watch how fucking beautiful he is with a knot filling his pretty mouth.

It’s really picture perfect.When they both finally go down enough to be able to pull out, Tim is covered in their come, completely fucked out, flying high on how amazing that was. He’s far gone enough not to hear them talking over him, just knows the hands on him, petting him, smoothing the hair away from his face, the kisses to their marks on the back of neck are all real this time.

Warm arms and a strong chest, his face nestled against Dick’s musk, and he’s almost flying in his Alpha’s arms until Dick hands him off to Jay, sinking him down in a warm bath.

He must have been a little out of it while the bath water ran, vaguely remembers Dick holding a bottle of water to his mouth and cooing something at him in that deeper Alpha voice so he would rouse enough to drink.

He comes back when bits of conversation about what he’d been into that week make him sit up a little, realize Dick is holding his leg out of the water, running a soapy cloth over it and Jay’s at the same time.

“Sshh, ssshh, s’all right,” Jay’s arm slides slickly up his chest to grip his shoulder and pull him back down, laying his chin on the top of Tim’s head to keep him in place.

“It’s okay, Baby, we’ve got you,” Dick pauses in washing, leans in to press a gentle kiss to his mouth before going on to their other legs, pulling Jay’s out of the water, giving it a kiss before washing him and then Tim’s, the same motion applies.

“‘Kay. Gonna sleep for a while. Then…then…” but he’s already closing his eyes again, relaxing back against Jay’s heartbeat, a sigh lifting his chest before he’s out.

#winter answers #with smut #aob #tagged for anon!#omega!tim #alpha!dick #alpha!jay #i regret nothing #sorry this took so long babe #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #dickjaytim #my writing

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nightwingvixen23 · 4 years

Text

JayRoy short fanfic I whipped up inspired by this god damned song right here lol👇

youtube

@aceofenderdark i was in a legit mood lol

💘💘💘

Roy speaks in the way that Siren’s sing, flooding venom in to my mouth and watching it drip like a ruptured peach to the sting of front teeth. Ripping such fragile skin into nasty pieces of flesh, letting lay bare the very salacious core hidden in the seam.

His flaming hair has grown out (frequently used to twisting or tying it up into a knot) tonight it remains loose. Untamed. And my fingers play through that somehow flawless shit storm, tangling each lock into madness; they overall might dangle into his glaring eyes but that does nothing to befog the fire smoking from within. He looks wild above me. Never have I asked to be such a blooded piece of meat at the ready to be gutted; staring into the yawning mouth of the lion, of whom, is fucking starved.

Right now, I know that he knows that it’s not his nails nor teeth that I fear will gift me new damage, but his eyes. They inspire, burn, destroy. I’m left suspended in the company of a gore leaking orifice that bellows ‘look at me’ should my mind toe outside the line of our depraved Love Nest; this being no more then the feral charge then skirmish to the floor of a Gotham City safehouse.

We sure are givin’ some poor son of a bitch a show, I think, spotting the newfangled surveillance camera I hadn’t noticed sooner, newly installed high left. My mind darts to Tim making my hands sweat, however, Roy’s fingers bruising my chin pull me back down into the waters of our fucked up little fantasy.

The holsters loyal to each my thighs are disengaged, followed by the faint skidding rattle of two M1911 pistols being launched across a cement floor. This all titters a secret to me that I am now in the hands of no mercy.

It’s during a moment like this (offering myself over to be caught in the line of fire) that I swear by the unholy mess in me that Roy Harper is some sort of Saintly Deity of Insanity that which no god can put a name to. Why else would I worship this fucker’s dick like i do ? Call me crude, vulgar, whatever...doesn’t change the fact that the shitty ass truth, is in fact, the shitty ass truth. That truth being that I demand his unsympathetic grip akin to an infant demanding it’s very first breath of life. The affliction of every scar mapping my body is something that I didn’t fuckin’ ask to be met with, nevertheless, something about the power that comes with directing an overdose of a serpentine thirst such as this one that makes me feel more in control then when my hands are gripping lead.

Our lips meet with vigor. I’ve never known it to be smooth. Never known us to take our time, yanno ? It’s always fierce. Hot. A clash of potent teeth seeking to grip and rip apart tender skin. To taste blood. And what’s a good fuck without the taste of blood ? C’mon. We’re deep. We’re thorough: two adrenaline filled junkies having gotten our first real swallow of the golden necator that has seduced us, dripping from uncut fruit laying bare in our wake while with instructions to never have one bite; we’re obsessed.

The tinkering jangle of an unhooked belt. The lick of Roy’s tongue into my mouth still tasting of shitty liquor from the corner store. A sinners Paradise. I tilt my head back for him and let teeth ascend onto my neck. I’m the lamb, sticking it’s neck out for the butcher. I want this. I want him to brand me intensely then cool it with a kiss because that is something that this world has done too many fucking times to me, and I’ve got the scars to prove it.

Yeah, only because the world never did leave a kiss of apology.

Chewed mint gum, stale tobacco, and secrets kept out in the rain for far too long, left to tarnish with the coming of nightfall; this is his eternal flavour.

Isn’t there some goddamn way for us to endure this way ? Twined together ? Just like this. Simply him ritualizing my abdomen that rose and fell with shaky gasps, his tongue marveling the carved indent of muscle there, tracing every groove proving personal fortitude. Proving that my ass didn’t get dropped down onto this fuckin waste land of a planet just to roll over like a creature without fight.

A trifling jungle, Life is.

“God. What a million mother fuckers would trade to see the Red Hood in this wrecked state. You wanna beg for me, doll ? That’s right. Beg for me then,” Roy’s voice is an instrument. His words, musical of filth. I’m being serenaded by the devil and it’s mother fuckin’ magical. Even so, I aim to punch him in the throat. I wasn’t gonna do much damage, was just gonna let him know what toes the line, but his hand wraps around my curled wrist and my bicep tenses. I’m straining to reach him. Straining to infect him, however somewhere in the tangle of that violence dance I strained also for his mouth like an addict for a needle. A taboo puppet. A homicidal angel, like he once called me before I spit in his eye earning my face into the wall.

What even are we doing, Roy Harper ? Why do we do this ? And why does it feel so right to scream your name into the hush of a blacked out room while you turn me inside out ? I’d ring God on the manner, but fuck—I just start pissing myself with laughter each time I start.

Gotta love this shade of grey I’ve established my life in the thick of. Grey is the blueprint of a soul caught in limbo. It’s a nice color. The ambiance is sedated, disrupted here and there by the tortured hollar of a condemned conscience—but life ain’t no fucking picnic.

Then again, even a tongue tied fool knows that.

…...

I can feel the frayed corners of ultimate reality beginning to shimmer. Roy watches me rising high even while knowing that soon I’ll crash, we will, together. And it’s so gorgeous for just a second that I could die like this. I know that it gets old hearing others romanticize death, yet I serious in the face of it. Serious and deeply, deeply in enamoured. Swept upon sandy beaches as to evade the lusting leviathan of the sea again and again. But I just wade back into the waters, deluded at times. Something like a drunk falling around town with an empty bottle of gin; everyone stares but no one will give directions to the nearest pub.

The vast gulf of the abyss beckons nearer with breath peppered by wanderlust and saliva spiked in moonshine. I can only take so much, however I’m forced, and so gorge on this easy feast.

Has a human ever been so unsteady and yet resistant ? So crippled and yet defiant ? I have many bones to pick with myself. I’ve splintered the masterpiece of my life into something ugly.

But I am a beast, aren’t I? And a Beast has always been one to see the Beauty in crude things. There is peace in the bloodstains, there is marvelous enrichment in the grimace of the faces. Cut me deeper Roy, squeeze red from my flesh so to let me continue my artistry. Open up the brushes of my fingers with your fangs and allow this woeful composer to create something for us both to laugh at.

Each finger in my mouth taste like pure sin. They scrape my gums until lips go down onto mine; then the fingers are put back into place. I choke. He chuckles. Fucking bastard.

Through these eyes of mine white with carnal tears, I look up and into the face of the man I didn’t mean to fall in love with wearing my blood upon his lips like a god damned badge of honor.

There’ll be no victor at the end of this unchaste warfare and I feel the cannon fires terminal blow. Yup. that’s my fucked up heart. What a tool.

But it’s been this way for centuries, hasn’t it ?

Sensuality is the baddest of bitches with hips that carve into yours tastefully. She’s the perfect fusion of warm and wanton that leaves you so powerfully drugged, that when you turn over to sleep soundly for having seen Nirvana it’s self, she’s able to hijack your shit with ease. Now your ass is left high and dry. But hey, you gotta relish her; notably on the day you find Sensuality knocking at your door again for having conceived with you a child named Regret, something that she drops off for you to raise alone. Now you’re in solitary as Regret clings to you tightly, sucking the life from your chest, but yet, still you nourish it. You love it because shit, it’s half of Sensuality isn’t it ? And had she not once been your reason worth living ?

I twist my fingers around Roy’s cross necklace still finding a way to glint silver in the dark, and pull him down into me with a grunt. For once, it’s his eyes that are glossed with hysterical fever, swimming and asphyxiated by all 7 of the Deadly Sins.

Yeah. That’s right fucker. At least for tonight, “You’re mine.”

Was that his whine that I heard ? Unquestionable was his moan. I think I hear him praying, but that doesn’t change the fact that come sunrise

We’ll both be waking up alone;

the bruises I left on his neck the only souvenirs of my Love.

#My fanfiction #Jayroy #jason todd #red hood #roy harper #arsenal #dramatic as fuck #lmao

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singledadkuroo · 4 years

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konbart with 3 or 9 (or both?)

Tim is going to be out of commission for a few weeks, but he’ll live to be a pain in the ass the whole time. Cassie, too, though thankfully she’s in better shape.

Kon is another story altogether.

When Bart finds him it’s uncannily like the battle after Superboy Prime, after Kon saved the world the last time. The impact of his body cratered the street and blew part of the foundation of a building.

He looks so small. Bart would never have described him as that before, ever. There’s blood on his face and tattered costume in places that really shouldn’t be bleeding and his leg is twisted unnaturally.

“Kon?”

He’s not sure if he should try to lift him. He’s not sure if Kryptonian CPR would be different or about the same. He’s not sure what the hell to do and his face is in agony from the effort not to cry.

He rips his goggles off and hovers them above Kon’s mouth and nose. They fog up, barely, but they fog up.

Nobody else is around. The other heroes have evacuated the area of those who hadn’t already stampeded away. He doesn’t have Superman’s cell phone number. Or really anyone’s cell phone number.

The closest S.T.A.R. location is in Metropolis. He can get him there. He will get him there.

Lifting him, then getting him on his back, is no easy feat, but if Wally can punch with the force of a thousand suns then Bart can freaking carry his friend a few hundred miles. NBD.

Kon’s weight shifts, pulls slightly away from his back as his breath rumbles across Bart’s back.

“Bart.”

“Yeah, buddy. I’m getting you help.”

“I’m too heavy for you.”

It’s true that Bart’s heels are digging a little bit and it’s taking him a few extra minutes, but a few extra minutes are nothing compared to what would be the rest of Bart’s life without him.

“You’re not hurting me, you’re not heavy. I’ve got you, okay?” He sucks in a breath. “I love you.”

Kon doesn’t say anything else after that.

________________________________________________________________

It’s clear that the staff is eager to get Kon out of there as soon as possible. Nobody was exactly thrilled to have a half-Kryptonian clone with major injuries dumped on them along with their usual workload.

Tim promised to bully Bruce into giving them a large donation to appease them, though, so they’ll get over it pretty quickly.

“So you really thought I was dead?”

Kon’s grin is lopsided under his bandaged face, like this is just the funniest thing in the world and Bart was silly for being worried at all.

“NO. I was worried that you were going to die.”

“You only die once.”

“I don’t think that’s right.”

“You’re no fun.”

Kon tilts his head back further into the starchy pillow and looks at him with a newly solemn expression.

“What?”

“Are we gonna talk about what you said?”

Bart suddenly feels like his heart is choking his throat. He was hoping, and was actually so sure, that Kon wouldn’t remember that. The doctors warned he might have slight memory loss from the concussion.

“I—-what did I say?”

“I can hear your little hummingbird heart, you know. I’m not that banged up.��

Bart doesn’t say anything, just wills his little hummingbird heart to slow down. He curls his legs up to his chest and rests his chin on his knees. Nope.

“Okay, fine,” Kon relents, “but for the record, that’s something I very much want to talk about.”

“If I ever remember what you’re talking about, then sure. I just remembered I have to call Tim.”

Kon’s eyeroll is so big it could put any of Max’s to shame.

#anyway #yeah this word vomit needed a read more #yeehaw #blood tw #injury tw #konbart #bartkon #rory writes

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nightwingvixen22 · 4 years

Text

Shaded In Grey

Summary : Jason loves Roy just as much as he loves the bruises that he paints into his skin; but to hell if he’ll ever let him know that and change the interplay of their lusting dance amongst the grey

💘💘💘

It’s during a moment like this (offering myself over to be caught in the line of fire) that I swear by the unholy mess in me that Roy Harper is some sort of Saintly Deity of Insanity that which no god can put a name to. Why else would I worship this fucker’s dick like i do ? Call me crude, vulgar, whatever…doesn’t change the fact that the shitty ass truth, is in fact, the shitty ass truth. That truth being that I demand his unsympathetic grip akin to an infant demanding it’s very first breath of life. The affliction of every scar mapping my body is something that I didn’t fuckin’ ask to be met with, nevertheless, something about the power that comes with directing an overdose of a serpentine thirst such as this one that makes me feel more in control then when my hands are gripping lead.

Yeah, only because the world never did leave a kiss of apology.

Chewed mint gum, stale tobacco, and secrets kept out in the rain for far too long, left to tarnish with the coming of nightfall; this is his eternal flavour.

A trifling jungle, Life is.

Then again, even a tongue tied fool knows that.

……

The vast gulf of the abyss beckons nearer with breath peppered by wanderlust and saliva spiked in moonshine. I can only take so much, however I’m forced, and so gorge on this easy feast.

Has a human ever been so unsteady and yet resistant ? So crippled and yet defiant ? I have many bones to pick with myself. I’ve splintered the masterpiece of my life into something ugly.

Each finger in my mouth taste like pure sin. They scrape my gums until lips go down onto mine; then the fingers are put back into place. I choke. He chuckles. Fucking bastard.

Through these eyes of mine white with carnal tears, I look up and into the face of the man I didn’t mean to fall in love with wearing my blood upon his lips like a god damned badge of honor.

There’ll be no victor at the end of this unchaste warfare and I feel the cannon fires terminal blow. Yup. that’s my fucked up heart. What a tool.

But it’s been this way for centuries, hasn’t it ?

Yeah. That’s right fucker. At least for tonight, “You’re mine.”

Was that his whine that I heard ? Unquestionable was his moan. I think I hear him praying, but that doesn’t change the fact that come sunrise

We’ll both be waking up alone;

the bruises I left on his neck the only souvenirs of my Love.

#my fanfiction #jayroy #jason todd #red hood #roy harper #arsenal #Based on the song Fifty Shades by Boy Epic

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two-baes · 5 years

Text

Harper’s sick, struck down with a bad case of strep-throat that, despite all of her protests (and there were many) ended in Bruce and Alfred ganging up on her to keep her home from school that day.

Tim goes to a different school (one for gifted youths, to challenge the genius that he is), Dick has work, Bruce has a meeting, and Alfred has to look after Harper, making sure she stays in bed where she belongs.

Which leaves Jason as the only viable option left to retrieve the youngest Wayne née-Row from school.

Jason, who is still freshly reintegrating back into the family, and still getting used to the two new additions that Bruce had acquired during his absence.

Which is fine, gives him an excuse to take his bike and get some fresh air.

Truth be told, he hasn’t interacted very much with the kid yet, so he does feel slightly out of place, leaned up against the brick wall of the school waiting for him, but he pushes the feeling aside.

The minutes tick by and Jason frowns, impatiently, he pushes himself away from the wall and quickly scans the crowd, trying to spot the kid. He doesn’t.

He looks harder. His attention is drawn to a group of boys congregated in the school yard, they’re circling something, and he can’t quite make out what it is until one of them move, revealing at the center another boy.

On closer inspection, he recognizes the boy is Cullen.

Jason advances towards the group, just in time to see Cullen be shoved to the ground, curling in on himself as some of the other boys begin to kick at him, calling him names that make Jason’s blood boil with rage.

“Hey — HEY!” Jason shouts, breaking in to a sprint that he feels would have made The Flash proud.

The second he reaches the group he rips the closest boy away, making his way into the circle to stand over Cullen, and snarling at the others “Get the fuck away from him! Now.”

The boys take one look at him in all his 5-foot-11-inches glory, towering over them, and immediately scatter in several different directions.

He feels something brush against his leg, and when he looks down he sees that Cullen is crawling out from under him, and climbing to his feet.

There’s a bruise already purple-ing on his cheek, and the sight of it has Jason considering chasing down one of the boys and wringing their neck. Cullen lets out a sniffle and he decides against it determining that it’s probably better if he stays there with him.

Jason kneels down, putting himself at the kid’s level, in an attempt to look less imposing “Hey” he prompts softly, and is rewarded by the boy shyly looking up to meet his eyes, “You alright?” it’s a stupid question and he quickly amends it with “Nothing’s broken, right?”

Cullen moves his limbs, as if testing them, before nodding. “M'okay”

“Alright, c’mon them let’s get you home...”

Jason walks him over to his bike, helping the younger boy get situated on the back of it; popping the spare helmet onto his head, before climbing on himself and revving the engine. “You ever ride on one before?” He asks glancing over his shoulder as much as his own helmet will allow, the boy shakes his head.

“It’s awesome, you’re gonna love it” Jason assures, “Just hold on tight, okay?”

He’s expecting the boy to latch onto his jacket and he waits for him to do just that, instead however he gets a small pair of arms hugging around his middle. He can’t help but blink down in surprise at the two hands clasped together near his stomach.

A smile tugs at his lips when the boy squeezes tighter as the bike takes off.

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

They don’t end up going home right away, instead Jason stops off at a corner store to pick up a couple of frozen treats (two for them to eat, and one to use as a cold compress to soothe the bruise on the kid’s cheek). After purchasing they make their way across the street to sit in the park.

The two enjoy their ice creams and the view in silence for a bit, before Jason chances a look at the boy out of the corner of his eye; he’d been quiet, maybe Cullen was always quiet?

Jason wasn’t sure. This was honestly the longest amount of time he’d spent with him, which...now that he thought about it seemed odd, considering they lived in the same house. Still, he seemed like a sweet kid.

Which no doubt makes him a prime target for bullies.

Jason frowns again, thinking back to what he’d witnessed at the school, “Stuff like that happen a lot?” there’s no need to elaborate what he means.

The question seems to catch Cullen off guard (or maybe he’s just surprised that Jason broke the silence), and he just looks at him for a moment, before suddenly seeming to find his ice cream very interesting. “Sometimes?” he offers with a small half shrug, “They don’t...always mess with me that bad, not if Harper's there... They mostly just call me names...”

Jason actually growls at that, and it earns him a bewildered look from the kid.

“It’s aright, yanno...If you like dudes, I mean. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I know”, Cullen says with such conviction that Jason can’t help but crack a small smile, “Those guys are just jerks.”

Jason snorts at that. “Not the word I’d use, but you’re like twelve so you're probably not old enough to hear the words I'd use to describe those guys.”

“Exactly, I’m 12. I’m not a baby, Jay. I know bad words too!” Cullen protests, which earns him an arch of Jason’s eyebrows as the older boy leans conspiratorially closer to the younger one, a playful grin forming.

“Oh do you, now? Alright kid, hit me: what’s the worst ‘bad word’ you know?”

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

It’s 8:45 and there’s a knock on his door, Jason sighs, tossing down his book and heaving himself up to answer it when it’s followed by a second. He opens the door to reveal a large, fluffy quilt, and a sick looking girl buried underneath it, halfway through coughing up a lung (at least that’s what it sounds like).

“Jesus Christ, Harp” he looks her over, then peers behind her, half expecting to see Alfred sprinting down the hallway at full speed after her. “You look like cr—uh, you don’t look so good, kiddo. Shouldn’t you like, be in bed?”

She makes a sound of clearing her throat and moves past him, ducking under his arm to enter into his room; making a bee-line for his bed. Jason gives a halfhearted protest of ‘I didn’t mean my bed’ followed by a soft ‘...yeah, okay, that...that’s fine’ as she flings herself face first onto it.

He sighs, shutting the door and moving to take a seat beside her. Or rather the pile of quilt he knows is her. “What’s up?”

She shifts, and Jason thinks, with some small amount of amusement, that it looks more like wriggling, with the way she has herself cocooned “Wanted t’ talk” she mumbles, voice coming out raspy from her sore throat. “Cullen told me, ‘bout what happened at his school”

He starts to open his mouth to say something, but doesn’t get the chance.

“Thank you” she says and he just nods; expecting that to be the end of it, only it isn’t, “I... I spend a lotta time worrying, that he won’t have anyone t’ look out for him...” she cuts off into a hacking cough and Jason winces, both because it sounds a little painful, as well as gross. “I forget sometimes, that it’s not jus’ the two of us anymore” she continues, “that we have family now...”

Jason is a bit taken aback at being called family, he may have originally been there before them, but Cullen and Harper have been living at the manor now for longer than he’d even been back for; he feels like little more than a stranger sharing their roof. Unsure how else to reply, he simply nods again.

Harper seems to sense his apprehensiveness,

“Cullen won’t stop talking about how cool you are... I’m pretty sure you’re his hero now” She grins, and Jason looks away, embarrassed, mumbling that it’s ‘really no big deal’ and simply grunting in response to her protests otherwise.

They’re both quiet for a moment, aside from the occasional whistling sound Harper’s nose makes whenever she tries to breathe through it.

Then he feels as she shifts again beside him, this time wriggling her way into a sitting position, and a clammy hand on top of his has him turning his gaze back towards her.

“I mean it, Jay...” when he chances a look at her face she’s peering up at him from within her blanket cocoon, fondly and with all the love and adoration of a little sister, and Jason feels his face get a little warmer and fights the urge to look away again, “Thank you, for what you did, and...for reminding me that I don’t need’a worry cause we’ve got a badass big brother now.”

Jason wants to say something back, something sweet, instead what he says is “Gross Harp, your hand feels so sticky.” Harper laughs so hard she lapses into another coughing fit.

#my batfam AU #Earth 7777777 #Jason Todd #Cullen Row #Harper Row #Timeline for this is 17y/o Jay. 15 y/o Harper. and 12y/o Cullen.#Set after Jason comes home to rejoin the family.#He's adjusting still and hasn't really interacted too much w/ Harper or Cullen prior to this.#but his big bro energy is just too strong it was only a matter of time.

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queenborhapreaderships · 4 years

Text

Wherever Loyalty Lies

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Ship: Daryl Dixon/Reader (with a hint of Negan/Reader)

Word Count: 4.9k

AO3 link

Description: “When Rick’s group abandons you after you’re hurt, Negan’s men find you in the woods and take you back to The Sanctuary. Negan takes a very special interest in you. You're more or less his favorite. How do you adapt to this new life while still trying to make sense of your past one? What happens when you come face to face with your family that left you all alone?”

***

“Rick!” you cry out in pain and grasp at your side, trying to find and apply pressure to where the bullet ripped into your skin. “Daryl! Glenn!” You call desperately, crawling towards where you last saw your group disappear into the trees in an attempt to flee the massive herd of walkers right behind you. You finally find the wound and squeeze, flinching at the pain it causes.

Glenn didn’t mean to hit you, he really didn’t. It was a normal supply run. Until it wasn’t. You were all out gathering provisions and trying to find food to supplement Alexandria’s ever-dwindling supply. When you heard the groans, you all thought that you could take them because there weren’t too many walkers. Nothing you hadn’t taken out before. Unfortunately though, those initial walkers were only a small taste of what was to come. Once the real body of the hoard appeared from the trees, it became evident that there was no fighting them, their numbers were overwhelming. Daryl nailed a few in the head while Rick and Glenn shot at anything too close for comfort.

As you were all running away from the growing threat, you tripped on your own feet, stumbling and letting out a yelp in surprise. Glenn could only assume you were being attacked, so he whipped around and fired, striking you right below your ribcage. You were in too much of a daze to see what happened next, beyond your supposed family completely ditching you in favor of the shelter of trees.

A groan snaps you back to reality, although you’re unsure if it came from you or the walker right behind you.

“Shit” You mutter under your breath, attempting to stand up to find safety. After a grueling five seconds, you hobble to the dilapidated gas station that rests beside you. You hope that maybe if you can find the bathrooms, you can wait it out and try to find your way back to Alexandria and ask what the fuck happened. Within seconds, you find them and slam the door shut, collapsing down behind it.

You hiss in pain as you begin to examine the damage done. Realizing the bleeding must be stopped if you want to survive another night, you slowly reach up and start unhooking your arms from your favorite sports bra. You shimmy it down your abdomen, in hopes that the pressure it provides is enough to tide you over until the hoard clears. You remind yourself, your chances of coming out of this alive are highest if you stay awake, but you can’t seem to help your eyelids drifting shut.

You awake suddenly to the sound of voices and heavy footsteps. The hoard must’ve cleared, but how long were you out? You look down at your makeshift bandage, and to be honest, it’s not looking very good. Rick, Glenn, and Daryl must not have come looking for you. You frown and try to stand up to avoid being trapped in, but you’re instantly dizzy and collapse back down in a heap. “Must be the blood loss,” you murmur to yourself. Unfortunately, your failed attempt at a graceful exit brought the attention of the men stomping around over to you.

“Hey, Dwight, did you hear that? Get your ass over here.” a voice calls out. You hold your breath, knowing people these days are rarely a good thing. Especially in groups. The footsteps grow louder and you shrink away into a stall, hoping to avoid being spotted. Your feet disappear from sight just as the door the bathroom is kicked open.

“Probably just a raccoon or something,” a gruff voice replies.

“I don’t know, man, I could’ve sworn I heard something bigger” The men stalk further into the room. Someone begins kicking the stalls open and your heart drops. This is it, this is the end, you think to yourself. After all this time, everything you’ve been through, everyone you’ve met. You’re gonna die, bloody and alone because your family left you for dead. When they reach you, it’ll all be over. Not even taken out by a walker, which is ironic after everything you’ve been through. Eventually, they reach your stall and kick it open, just like the rest.

“Oh, now what do we have here?” one of the men chuckles to himself. He’s got long blonde hair and he looks like something straight out of a Tim Burton movie. The man by his side is shorter but looks just as strange with a bushy mustache resting upon his face. Mustache man reaches to pull out his gun, but Tim Burton character stops him.

“Whoa whoa whoa there, Simon, don’t you think the boss would like to take a look at her?” So mustache man is Simon, which means Tim Burton character must be Dwight.

“Yeah, we need all the brownie points we can get” Simon snorts as he steps forward grabbing your arm roughly and dragging you out of the stall. You bite back a groan as a surge of pain shoots through your side. The men don’t seem to care.

“Oh come on, you pussy, there are doctors where we’re taking you. You’ll be fine,” Dwight says, but for some reason, his words aren’t exactly the most reassuring thing in the world. You stumble along, remaining in Simon’s grip the whole time. Once you get outside, he flings you carelessly into the back of their truck and once again, you can’t help but slip into a blood loss-induced sleep.

~~~

You awake with a start, shooting up in what appears to be a hospital bed? That doesn’t make sense. You look from left to right frantically, trying to gather your bearings. Then the events of the past 5 hours hit you like a load of bricks and you lie back down slowly, pulling at your arms that you now realize are cuffed to the side of the bed.

“Nice of you to finally join the land of the living” calls a voice from the other side of the room. The irony of this statement isn’t lost on you. “Now I’m sure you’re confused as to where you are, what’s going on, so on and so forth. Answers will come soon enough, my dear. All you need to know now is that you are alive and you will continue to be so if we change your bandage routinely” You glance down at where your bra was once your lifeline. It has been replaced with a real bandage and what you assume to be a few stitches underneath.

“I... uh… thank you?” you stutter out, breathlessly, still trying to process what exactly is happening.

“You’re one of the good ones, aren’t you?” he says almost wistfully, coming in closer to inspect your face, brushing a few locks out of your line of vision. “There aren’t many of you left in this world, especially not here”

“Where is here?” you press on cautiously

“Your new home” he answers. Well, that’s not vague, you think to yourself. You shake your arm, rattling the cuffs.

“A little help here, maybe?” you ask, a small shimmer of hope still in your voice despite your meek circumstances.

“I would if I could, but I’m not the one calling the shots”

“Who is?”

“Negan” and with that, the strange man walks out the door.

~~~

After a few weeks, well, to be honest, you weren’t sure how long it had been. After what felt like a few weeks of living out of the hospital room via the doctor, you’ve finally regained almost all functionality the bullet took away from you. The doctor walks in and gives you a smile, that looks partially like a grimace. You wonder what’s up.

“So it seems you've recovered enough to meet the man upstairs,” the doctor says, almost cynically. After all this time, you’d actually grown rather close with him, being your only human interaction and all. Of course, you were annoyed that you were being held against your will, but in all reality, you couldn't complain. You were being fed well and regularly, but you also couldn't help but be extremely curious as to why this group took you under their wing when you had nothing to offer in return. You snort and think to yourself, this must be what Stockholm Syndrome feels like.

All the alone time you had left you only with your thoughts. You couldn’t help the anger, confusion, and hurt bubbling up inside you whenever you thought about how your so-called friends left you for dead. There had to be some kind of misunderstanding, right? Well, whether that be the case or not, it doesn’t change the fact that they left you and didn’t even check back up to see if you survived. If they don’t need you anymore, you don’t need them.

“Ahhh, so I finally get to meet the infamous Negan?” you ask, but before the doctor has a chance to respond, the door flies open and a booming voice echoes throughout the room.

“Now is the (y/n) that I’ve been hearing so much about? Let me tell you, you are, in fact, just as stunning as I’ve heard” you were too flustered to respond. There’s something… off about this guy, you think to yourself. Something that may be contributing to that feeling is the large baseball bat he’s carrying that’s covered in what appears to be… barbed wire? What the fuck? “What? Cat got your tongue?” he asks, encouraging you to speak up. You swallow the lump in your throat and try your best to sound confident.

“No, it’s just finally nice to meet the man behind the madness. I mean that in the best way possible, of course” you laugh, backpedaling from a statement that could be perceived negatively. “I really appreciate you taking me in and all, I don’t know how I could ever make it up to you,” you say, humble in front of this man who basically prevented your death, multiple times. He was intimidating, yes, but that isn’t to say he’s not surprisingly attractive.

“I could think of one or two ways,” he says, raising his eyebrows, leaning in, and winking at you. You can feel a blush rise upon your cheeks. Really? This man is hitting on you? He could have anyone in this camp, being the leader and all, and he’s coming on you? Something doesn’t add up. You really want to know where this is going, so you decide to play along.

“Ohh, and how’s that?” you say, in your best seductive voice, although it might be a little rusty from underuse considering it’s only the motherfucking apocalypse and all. You don’t really know what you’re getting yourself into, but getting in close with the leader is never a bad thing, is it? Negan whips around and points the bat at the doctor.

“Would you give us a minute alone please?” Enunciating every syllable, as if his life depends on it.

While he phrased it as a question, you were getting the vibe that it was more of a direct order. The doctor doesn’t have to be asked twice, he nods to you and removes himself from the room. This man has a clear aura of authority, what he says goes. You make a note of this before speaking to him again. He turns back around and his eyes wander up and down your body.

“Now, by this point, I’m sure you’re aware that I find you exceptionally beautiful, so I have a proposition for you. How would you like to be my wife?” At this incredibly blunt statement, your eyes widen and you choke on your words, the previous confidence you built up completely gone. “Oh, it’s a good deal, I promise. I’m hot shit around here, so I could get you practically anything you want. Plus… you’ve got access to all the alcohol you could ever want” He was right, that’s not exactly a bad deal. I mean, hell, what’s your alternative? You’re not sure, but you’re sure it’s not as pleasant.

“I… I would be honored,” you say, confused and, to be honest, a little awestruck.

“Well that’s just fanfuckingtastic,” Negan says, a shit-eating grin glowing on his face. He steps over to help you up out of the hospital bed. “Now, if you’ll come with me, I can show you around, and we can get you dressed” He walks you out into the hallway and up the stairs. You look over the ledge at the large room below you. There are people who appear to be working, all dressed in rags, looking miserable. Yeah, you definitely picked the long stick.

As Negan walked through the halls people, his men, you assume, would kneel and avert their eyes. That’s when it really set in, how much power this man has. You can’t fuck this up, you don’t get the feeling he’s a very merciful guy. Finally, at the top of a winding staircase, you reach Negan’s room. The minute you step in, you understand. The room is filled with 12ish absolutely stunning women in black, sleek dresses.

“What? You didn’t think you were the only beautiful girl left in this shithole of a world, did you?” Negan asks, wryly. A brunette girl sitting on the couch throws you a sympathetic look. “Follow me, let’s get you into your dress”

~~~

You emerge back into the room with the other girls, looking gorgeous, as Negan has told you. Multiple times. He certainly is quite the flirt, you think to yourself.

“Now ladies, I’d like you all to give your newest sister, (y/n), a warm welcome. I’ll be back tonight” he says and with a wink and a slap of your ass, he’s gone. You stand frozen, like a deer in headlights, extremely confused about the events of the last hour. The girl from the couch seems to catch wind of this and she walks over to you.

“Hey,” she says in a soft voice “Do you wanna come sit with me? My name’s Ariel. I might be able to answer some questions or help you get settled in, whatever you’d like” her eyes are soft and movements gentle. You give a faint nod and follow her back to the couch. She pours you a glass of red wine and takes a seat. “Welcome to Negan’s man cave,” she says, disdain evident in her voice. The two of you chat for a while. She talks you through the ins and outs of being one of Negan’s wives. Sex whenever he wants and you can’t have any sort of relationship with another man, Negan gets very jealous very easily. That’s not a side of him you particularly want to see, so you can live with that. In return, you get food, shelter, and safety. This is the first time you’ve had that since, well, before the apocalypse. To survive in this world, it looks like you’re just gonna have to suck it up because you could be starving to death right now.

~~~

You live on like that for a while. Your weekly…. meetings with Negan have been constantly growing in frequency. From what you can tell, he really really likes you. He’s started bringing you downstairs and out of the mancave to come with him as he strolls around The Sanctuary because he “just likes your company, (y/n)” You’ve gotten used to his authority at this point, and it almost… turns you on? You try not to think about it too much. You’re safe and content with the turn your life has taken and that’s all that matters. Sure, you think about your old group a lot. You miss Tara, Michonne, Maggie, Carl, Carol. You miss everyone. Especially Daryl. You two had shared your first kiss the week prior to your split from the group. It’s something that has been budding since Atlanta, but you had just now gained the confidence necessary in order to make the first move. You loved him, you really did. They were your family for 7 years, but they left you. That was their decision, and if they don’t need you, why burden them with your presence? You groan and roll your eyes. You’ve gotten too far in your own head again. Where’s Negan? He’ll definitely distract you in one way or another. You’ve reached the point of familiarity around The Sanctuary where all of its guards and men know you. They know to give you whatever you want or let you go where ever you want, or there will be hell to pay.

You walk around The Sanctuary for a while, Negan nowhere in sight. Eventually, you decide to check out front. You make your way past the front door guards. With a curt nod, they step back and let you take your leave. Just as you’re walking down the steps you hear a voice and turn around.

“Oh, uh, (y/n), Negan is out by the driveway packing the truck for his next pick up. If that’s who you’re looking for, that is.” the guard offers with a smile.

“It is, thank you so much,” you say “I’ve been looking for him forever, I really appreciate the help” Is he… blushing? Wow, you must have a lot more influence around here than you thought. You continue on your way, smiling softly. You see Negan in the distance, Lucille slung over his shoulder, he saunters around like he owns the place, and well, he does. His eyes eventually drift over to you.

“Ahh, (y/n), my favorite little girl! It is so good to see you right now” he comes over to you, kissing you softly on the cheek. “You know what? I’m sick of dealing with all of these men on my own, how’d you like to come on this run with me? No pressure, but I’d sure love to have you along for the ride” It’s not like you’ve got anything better to do, plus, you’re always curious about that Negan does on all of these mysterious outings. Guess it’s your turn to find out.

~~~

After around an hour-long drive, the trail of trucks finally comes to a halt. You look out the window and see what appears to be a camp, and of decent size too. Why are the saviors here? You’re completely oblivious to the absolute hell that these people have been subjected to by the hands of your people, but you were about to find out.

“Negan, where are we?” You ask, looking around with a curious look in your eyes.

“All in good time, my love,” He says and steps out of the truck, offering you his hand to assist your descent. You take it and follow him through the gates. There’s a group of 5 men out to meet the saviors, but the rest of the streets are completely dead. You furrow your eyebrows and glance up at Negan. He gives you a smile and turns to deal with the men before him.

“Ah, so I see when I say give me half of your shit, you actually expect my men to go in and get it, because sure as fuck don’t see half of your shit waiting for me” He raises his eyebrows expectantly and is met only with silence and averted eyes. “Now that would really be going the extra mile, but if you want these brutes rifling through your shit, fine by me” He throws the five a wicked grin and waves his hand, signaling his men to begin searching. So, Negan’s power extends beyond The Sanctuary, apparently. Negan grabs your hand and pulls you over to the side.

“Any questions?” He asks, voice genuine.

“I just, is this where we get all of our stuff? Just… taking it from other groups?” You ask

“Well of course not, darling. You don’t think we actually need this worthless shit, do you?” you shrug, he chuckles softly. “All I’m really doing here is flexing. Showing these people who’s boss” you hum in understanding and he plants a kiss on your forehead before walking away to check on his men's progress.

You wander back over to the trucks and avoid contact with anyone who isn’t from The Sanctuary. This other camp, The Orchard, you believe it’s called, didn’t do anything to deserve Negan’s wrath. You’re sure of it. Negan is good to you, that’s for certain, but you can’t seem to ditch this feeling in the pit of your stomach that this, all of it, is just wrong. But then again, it’s your life. You don’t really have any choice except to embrace it, and shove down all of your doubts, however reasonable they may be.

~~~

It’s been months and you’ve tried to expose yourself to Negan’s excursions as much as possible in an attempt to become numb. Now, you can’t exactly guarantee how successful your efforts have been, but the thought is there. So, when Negan asks you if you want to tag along today, you go willingly, even though it’s practically dusk. After a 30ish minute drive, the trucks pull over and you look out the window, confused. There’s no gate or fence or community anywhere. You step out of the truck and walk around.

The minute your eyes reach the group completely at Negan’s mercy, your heart drops. Suddenly it's hard to breathe. There they are. Your old family. You’re completely frozen. Negan hops out of the truck, as usual. Your palms begin to sweat. He walks around the truck to open the door for you. You still can’t move. You’re just staring at them. All of them. They look… horrible. You’re not used to this. Not at all. They were all so strong. Negan, you think. Negan must have done this to them. Looking at them, with their heads down, completely at the mercy of these tens of men with guns. Lots and lots of guns.

“Come on, hon,” Negan says, offering you his hand. You snap out of your daze and tentatively take his hand. Just like usual. But. This isn’t just like usual.

Members of Rick’s group begin to look up, all seeming to have a similar reaction to you. Utter disbelief. Your eyes skim the row. Carl and Rick and Maggie and… your breath stops in your throat. Daryl. He’s cowering down, shawl wrapped around his shoulders. He is not okay. You swallow down a lump and take a few steps forwards.

“(Y/N)...?” a soft voice calls out. Your eyes shoot to the origin. Glenn. It was Glenn. His eyes are wide, a mixture of relief and betrayal rest clearly upon his face. “You’re… you’re alive?” He asks, incredulously.

“(Y/N)” Negan shouts. “You know these assholes?”

“I… They…” You stutter, mind reeling to find an acceptable answer that won’t piss him off. “Remember when Simon and Dwight found me in that gas station? With the bullet wound? Well. That was courtesy of these guys” You gesture wildly at the line. “I rode with them before ya’ll saved me,” You say, emphasizing the last two words, knowing it had to have stung Rick, Daryl, and Glenn. But, looking back on the past year or so in The Sanctuary, you can’t very much bring yourself to care.

But there it is again. That creeping sensation of… what? Loyalty? You’ve been trying to shove it back into whatever crevice of your mind it crawled out of, but it’s absolutely ruthless. Memories keep unwillingly flooding back to your mind. When you had each other’s backs. When you were a family. Family. You don’t notice you’ve begun to cry until you taste the salt gathering at the corners of your mouth. You’ve known that the power Negan holds is wrong for so long, and you’ve been ignoring it out of self-preservation. But it’s more than that now. It’s them. It’s your family. You snap out of your trance and glance back over to Negan, pacing in front of the line, sadistically twirling Lucille. That’s it. You can’t take it anymore.

“Negan, stop” You shout, the strength in your voice surprising even yourself. His eyebrows shoot up and he turns on his heel. He seems to be taken aback, which, clearly doesn’t happen very often to a man of his standing. You know you can’t show any weakness now. There’s no going back. You look from Negan to those kneeling, looking back up at you with hopeful eyes. That solidifies what you’re about to say. That makes everything worth it. “Negan. This isn’t right. This is… this is…” you struggle to find the right word. “Evil. This is evil. And. I know you. I know you can be gentle. You can be generous. But. You can also be evil. These people,” you say, glancing over at the group. “These people are good. They don’t deserve what you” you stop yourself, “what we are putting on them. We can survive without, whatever this is. This cruelty.” You say, looking him in the eye the entire time. He’s frozen. You’ve never seen him like this before. You understood that you meant something to him, you were his favorite, maybe the best fuck. But, if you had the power to silence him, maybe you had more influence and control than you realized initially. Finally, after a long pause, he speaks up.

“(Y/N), you know how it works. You know I can’t let these people go, what would that say about me? What happened to my badass bitch?” He looks at you, wanting to appear strong in front of his men, but only you can see the uncertainty in his eyes. You walk up to him, only inches apart now.

“Negan. Please. Anyone but them, just, anyone but them” your voice soft but firm. You look up into his eyes, hoping he can see how serious you are. He closes his eyes and swallows. He didn’t reject it immediately, so, that’s a good sign. He looks at his feet. “If you hurt them. I’m leaving. You can kill me, I don’t care, but I cannot be anywhere near the man who killed my friends. The man who killed my family” You make eye contact with Daryl when speaking the last word. His eyes haven’t left you since you began to speak. He still means everything to you, despite how much you tried to deny it. “You do this. You lose me. That’s how it’s gonna be” You’ve never seen Negan look more conflicted in your few years with him than at this moment. You’re hoping that throughout the time you spent together that you got into his head. At least enough to save everyone. Negan regains his composure and turns to his men.

“Hey. Get the hell outta here and give us a minute, will ya?” he orders and nobody has to be asked twice. While everyone gathers behind the trucks, Negan takes your hand and walks you over to the treeline. A part of you is worried, is he going to punish you like you’ve seen him do to so many others? Any sense of fear is immediately gone when he puts his forehead to yours, caressing your cheek. His eyes are shut, and he appears, almost, vulnerable?

“Negan, I…” you start but are cut off by his piercing gaze.

“It’s okay. I… Damn, girl. I really care about you. And ain’t you go around telling nobody I said that. But. If it would make you happy, you can. You can go with them. Now don’t get me wrong, I ain’t gonna be leaving them alone. But. I won’t kill them either” Negan turns away and you’re completely blown away. You were expecting a fight. This man is evil. But. You’re attached. What that says about you, you don’t know. You step forward and hug him from behind, interlocking your fingers and resting your head upon his shoulder.

“Thank you” you whisper, barely audible. “You saved me. And I’ll never forget you” he turns around and falls into your arms, his head burrowed in the crook of your neck.

~~~

The last truck disappears from view and you turn around. You’re alone now. And it’s so much harder than it was before. Before you could hide behind the guns and the men and you could hide behind Negan. But now? Now you’re alone, and you’re looking at your past head-on. You’re terrified. Will they take you back? Or turn their back on you like they did so long ago. You glance from everyone back to the ground.

“Um… well… hi guys?” you stammer out “Long time no see?” you flinch. Long time no see? Really? That’s your opening line? Everyone is frozen. That’s it. You assume it’s over. You close your eyes and clench your fists. You begin to turn around when you hear ruffling to your left. Your eyes shoot to the source. It’s Daryl. He’s grabbing his side in pain, but he’s standing nonetheless. He limps towards you with a sense of urgency and he reaches you with his arms wide open. You embrace, and it’s like everything in the world that was ever wrong is now right. He’s got all of his weight on you, entrusting you with all of his being. Everything isn’t going to be immediately okay again, you know this. But right now? Everything is perfect.

“I fucking missed you, baby girl” he spits out, gruffly. All you can do is hug tighter, amazed that you went so long without the most important thing in your life.

“We all missed you,” Rick says, from the side. You look over and see everyone either nod or hum in agreement. Tears begin to fog your vision. Finally. Finally, you aren’t settling. Finally, you’re happy. Finally, you’re home.

***

This was the first fic I ever wrote back in 2017. God. Wild. Time is absolutely fake. Anyway!

My inbox is open and I’ll write for any fandom I’m in! <3

#the walking dead #walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #twd #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #the walking dead reader insert #twd reader insert #daryl dixon reader insert #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon/reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon/you #daryl dixon x you #negan x reader #negan/reader #negan/you #negan x you

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snarkwrites · 4 years

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Song Fic: remember you young; matt saracen

Notes:

Again... I loved the Friday Night Lights tv series. Idk whether I like Tim, Landry or Matt the most though, oops rip. This got sent to the ask of my main and so, when I created this blog, i wanted to be sure it got moved here.

Summary:

The one in which Matt and Julie are over and Matt’s at a class reunion alone. Enter former classmate Cat, who he seems to slightly connect with. Awkward and cute fluff.

Warnings:

uhh.. angst and mentions of alcohol?

Pairing:

Matt Saracen x OFC, Cat

Hey buddies that I grew up with

All straight laced and married up now

You ain’t foolin’ me, wasn’t long ago

We tore the roof off that one red light town

It just didn’t feel right. His eyes darted around the crowded gym and a few times, when his eyes met with someone he remembered from back then, he’d nod and wave and quickly divert his gaze. He was dreading it, the inevitable.

At some point tonight, someone was going to ask him what happened between him and Julie Taylor. Just thinking about it had his stomach churning. He turned, almost as if he were about to walk out of the gymnasium before anyone got the chance to do so, but he wound up colliding with Tim Riggins and his wife.

“Saracen! What’s good, man?”

… don’t ask about Julie, don’t ask about Julie… the thought repeated in Matt’s brain over and over. Tim seemed to realize something was up and he just kind of gave Matt the nod and sighed.

He thought for sure Tim wouldn’t ask, but after a beer or two five minutes later, while Tati was out on the dance floor with Tyra and Landry, Tim asked it, catching his gaze.

“It true Julie left you, man?”

Matt tried to shrug it off but Tim wasn’t having it.

“Sometimes shit happens. Sometimes people grow apart.”

… yeah, coming from a guy who found his other half… the thought echoed around bitterly in Matt’s brain. A gentle jolt from behind had him turning.

Tati was squeezing herself between him and Tim, pulling Tim into a laugh filled kiss. As the kiss broke, Tati cleared her throat and nodded at the blonde who’d bumped into Matt, directing her gaze at him. “You never met my friend Cat… Did you?”

“He probably didn’t, darlin, you met her in college.” Tim was pulling Tati closer and giving Matt a mischievous smirk as he added, “But Cat did go to Dillon with us. And you two kinda have a history…”

The blonde seemed to come out of her own deep thoughts and raised the wine glass in her hand to her lips, taking a long sip. Matt followed the path of the glass and chose to settle for gazing into her eyes rather than at her lips or the way the red from the wine seemed to tint them burgundy. It hit him then that he did remember her, Landry tried to set them up on a double date when he was dating Tyra.

“I haven’t seen you in a while.” Matt muttered, a tight half smile forming. He wanted to smile but it just.. It still didn’t feel right. He was still getting used to his situation as a whole.

…. it’s been a year, man. If she were going to come back, she would’ve… she’s moved on, why can’t you?…

Cat laughed. “Yeah, it has. I’ve been all over. This is the first time I’ve been back to Dillon since graduation.” she took another sip of her wine, taking the chance to sort of stare at Matt while he was distracted and lost in his own thoughts. She’d always thought he was handsome. The years had been kind to him. Very kind.

She almost asked him where Julie was, because the rumor mill put them as having been living together in Chicago, but something about the look in his eyes when his eyes met hers stopped her just shy of saying anything.

And it wasn’t her business anyway.

Someone called her name and she looked in that direction and quickly back up at Matt, giggling.

“I have to go collect this bitch before she starts table dancin.” Cat took a deep breath. Being around Matt, being reunited with all her old friends from high school really, it was just what she needed. She felt less alone. She bit her lip and flashed one last smile. “Okay, alright.. Lemme just go do a body shot with Tiff for old times sake, but Matt?”

Matt bit his lip as soon as he realized that she was stepping closer, her hand resting against his chest gingerly, almost as if she weren’t sure it was okay. He leaned in a little to hear her better over the music and the laughing and shouting of their peers. “Yeah?”

“I’m gonna find you in a little bit and we’re gonna dance our asses off, hon.” Cat wanted to pat herself on the back as soon as it left her mouth because if she’d been just a tenth of this smooth and self assured in high school then just maybe…

… maybe I would’ve gotten the guts to make a move back then before he got with Julie Taylor and they went on to have the train wreck they called a relationship… the thought finished itself in her mind as she skipped away, shoving through a crowd of her old friends to the front of the ‘bar set up’ at the front of the gym where her old friend Tiffany was about to do a few body shots.

Tim chuckled from beside him and gave him a nudge, nodding in Cat’s direction. “Always thought maybe if you gave ‘er a chance…” he shrugged mildly. Matt sighed, shaking his head. He felt conflicted.

“Do you really wanna just sit around and wait? Your whole life is gonna pass you by that way, man.” Tim pointed it out as he held out a beer to Matt. Matt took the beer and popped the top against the side of the table they were sitting at, taking a few sips as he thought about what Tim just said.

“No.”

“Then go over there, Saracen. Get your ass back in the game.” Tim coaxed, giving Matt a smirk as he stood and started to walk towards the area of the gym Cat vanished to earlier. It wasn’t hard to spot her, she was the one out on the gym floor barefoot with a bottle of wine in her hand, dancing with two or three other girls that Matt only vaguely remembered from his senior year. They were all laughing and talking over each other.

Her best friend with the red hair spotted him slipping up on Cat and she leaned in, whispering something into Cat’s ear. Cat turned and lazily wrapped her arms around Matt’s neck and drawled lazily, “Room’s s-spinnin, Matty.”

Matt snickered and gingerly put his hands on her waist to keep her on her feet as he leaned down and whispered against her ear, “You wanna take a walk or somethin, Cat?”

“I’d actually l-love that.”

And no matter how much time goes by

And no matter how much we grow up

For worse or for better, from now ‘til forever

I’ll always remember you young

The sun was just starting to come up. They’d been walking around town, they hadn’t stopped talking for hours. Now they were standing on Matt’s old porch. The air was full of crackling electric tension and Matt was trying to get himself to make some kind of move.

Cat rose to tiptoe and gingerly planted a kiss at the corner of his mouth, giving a quiet giggle. “Are you back in town for a while, Matty?”

“For a few weeks, yeah. Julie’s.. She’s comin back to our loft in Chicago to get her stuff. Said it’d be too hard for her to do this if she saw me there.”

Cat bit her lip and nodded, hugging against him a little more, pausing to look up at him. “For what it’s worth, I never really saw you two workin. And if I had a rewind button, maybe I would’ve tried to get to know you better when Landry was tryin to set us up… I wish I had.”

She was lowering back down and Matt wrapped his arms around her, pulling her off the worn wooden floorboards slightly, crashing his lips against hers. “It’s not too late, darlin.”

“No, it isn’t.” Cat mused, sighing into the kiss. “But maybe we need to take it slow. Even though God knows I don’t wanna.”

“Me either.”

#matt saracen fanfiction #matt saracen fanfic #matt saracen fic #matt saracen oneshot #matt saracen imagine #friday night lights tv series fanfiction #// this was cute even though I hate myself for breaking up Julie and Matt a lil bit

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fandom-scribe · 5 years

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Dick and Dami Week: Day 2 - Paparazzi

Title: Carried by Haters, Spread by Fools, Accepted by Idiots

Word Count: 1,937

Author’s Note: Uh… not much to say. I’m gonna complete these prompts no matter how long it takes :/

Trigger Warning: Implied child abuse. Didn’t actually happen, they’re just ugly rumors, I promise. Implied only by the haters, fools, and idiots ✌🏾

—

YOUNGEST WAYNE THROWS TANTRUM IN MALL

It doesn’t matter.

NEW WAYNE, NEW PROBLEMS: NEWEST ADDITION TO THE BROOD COST THOUSANDS IN DAMAGE

It doesn’t matter.

WAYNE’S BRAT ASSAULTS MAN, DESTROYS STORE

They don’t know anything.

BRUCE WAYNE ABSENT AS CHILD WREAKS HAVOC: WHERE IS HE?

Ignore it.

DAMIAN WAYNE: GOTHAM’S NEWEST DEMON

Ignore it.

BRUCE WAYNE: IRRESPONSIBLE PARENT

Ignore it!

It took everything within Damian to keep the words inside his head. He could feel them burning in the back of his throat like bile, a mantra that would be ineffective until he could hear them with his ears. With a stubborn grunt, Damian kept his lips firmly pressed together. If he spoke, he feared he wouldn’t be able to stop and Grayson might hear. Then Grayson would come and see the various articles opened on Damian’s phone and he would know exactly how much they bothered Damian.

They shouldn’t bother him at all.

Damian squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly, but it didn’t help. He could still see the words on the inside of his eyelids, could feel his body tingling as if the words were imprinting themselves into his skin, permanent tattoos to remind the world of his failures.

Tantrum. Problems. Brat. Havoc. Demon.

Every letter tormented him in a way that nothing ever had. He was Damian Wayne, heir to the Demon and son of the Bat. The opinion of a few sniffling, gossipping leeches should’ve meant nothing to him. But something about the words itched his skin, tearing at his very soul.

Tantrum.

Brat.

He was not a brat. He did not throw tantrums. He wasn’t a child. He was a protector and he was defending his stupid “brother’s” honor, something that everyone would know if anyone had bothered asking him about what happened. Not even Grayson had cared, instead opting to march him to the nearest shelter - Wayne Enterprises - and leaving him in his office with a sharp “Stay” before going off to do damage control.

And stay he did, with nothing but those damning titles on his phone and a faint buzzing in his head.

Damian squeezed his eyes tighter, counting backwards from 10 in hopes of quieting his mind, but the buzzing only grew. The words swam in his brain like angry bees and Damian let his phone drop as he clamped his hands over his ears.

Ignore it, ignore it, ignore it!

The more he tried to erase the words in his brain, the more prominent they became. The buzz in his head grew louder and louder until it was a roar and then-

“Fuck!”

Damian jumped, eyes snapping open and hands falling to his side as Grayson stormed into the office. If the curse word wasn’t alarming enough, the rage behind the man’s usually cheerful blue eyes was enough to make even Grandfather’s most loyal ninja run for the hills. Damian stumbled back as Grayson blew through the office like a hurricane, not stopping until he reached the wall of windows on the other side of the room. “Just what we need! Fucking paparazzi!”

“Huh?” Damian asked dumbly. It wasn’t until then that he realized that the roar in his head wasn’t in his head at all, but was actually coming from the other side of the windows. Feeling somewhat dazed, Damian stumbled towards the window and peered out.

It was chaos, pure and simple. A mob of people swarmed outside of Wayne Enterprises, the crowd dotted with the frequent flash of cameras. Riot would be another good name for it, with all the police and W.E. security guards trying to push the hoard back. Damian swallowed painfully, his throat suddenly dry. He had fought many crowds but this was something else. They were here for him: here to rip him apart, here to expose every flaw and immortalize them for all of Gotham to drool over. One look at Grayson’s thunderous face and dread filled Damian’s stomach. He wasn’t sure if he could count on the man’s protection or not.

“Stay here,” Grayson snapped and, dammit, would he say something else!? Stay, stay, stay, like Damian was a dog or something.

“Where are you going?” Damian asked, pushing himself away from the windows as Grayson stalked back across the room.

“To deal with the crowd.”

“You cannot go out there! Those vultures will swallow you alive!”

“This isn’t my first rodeo, kid, and they won’t leave until they get a couple of statements. They’re like high society policemen, really. Dirty officers that will make up things to get their win, unless you disprove them with the proper evidence. Or words in this case…”

Damian raised an eyebrow as Grayson trailed off into silence, his brows furrowed in concentration as if he was examining a complicated case. Eventually, he gave a one-shouldered shrug, as if whatever he was thinking about was satisfactory enough, and moved to open the door.

“Okay, then I will accompany you! My word will be the greatest of evidence!” Damian exclaimed, puffing his chest out in a show of false bravado.

“Damian…” and the way Grayson said it had Damian deflating before the word was completely said. Grayson’s voice had lost the frustrated edge and icy tone, replaced with a bone-deep weariness that made Damian’s stomach twist with guilt. “Haven’t you’ve done enough for today?”

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter.

Except it did. It shouldn’t but it did. Grayson was disappointed in him, again, just like he had been when they first started three months ago. It felt like a huge step back, one that made Damian want to punch something. But he couldn’t. That’s what got them in this situation in the first place.

“Oh no, Dami, please don’t cry!”

The sentence came like a punch to the gut, making Damian suddenly all too aware of the wetness on his cheeks. Grayson’s tone had changed again, this time to pity. He moved forward, arms reached out for the first time since the incident, eyes wide with regret and - no! No! Damian ducked out of reach, scrubbing at his eyes furiously. This was not allowed! Pity was the last thing he needed, the last thing he wanted. If Grayson was going to be mad at him then so be it! Any punishment would be better than this!

“I didn’t mean it like that, buddy, I swear,” Grayson continued and it only made Damian want to scream. Mean it like what? “It’s just not a good idea for you to go out there.”

“But–“

“Damian, you sent a man to the hospital. You destroyed a store. Nothing you say is gonna make this better. They’ll twist your words, paint you in a worse light. Let me handle this-”

“But you do not even know the full story!” Grayson paused for a second, taken aback by the outburst. Damian quickly continued before the man could stop him. “You didn’t hear what he said about Father! What he said about you!”

“It doesn’t matter what he said–”

“He accused Father of committing horrendous acts on you and Todd and Drake! He said that Father was behind Todd’s death, that it was a cover-up because Todd was going to go to the police and tell of Father abusing him! He called you incompetent, was spewing derogatory insults… he - he said that you were nothing but Father’s boy toy.”

At that Grayson simply sighed and shook his head, but it didn’t seem like he was going to interrupt. Damian knew he should stop by the words kept coming.

“I did not mean to attack him. I do not recall doing it, either. One minute I was simply waiting for you, then I heard him and everything went red. The next minute, there were people everywhere. They were touching me, Grayson. Pulling me out of the store like they wanted to hurt me. I did not intend to destroy the establishment, I was simply trying to get away. I could not find you and… and, I did not want them touching me.”

The room fell into silence as Damian finished, nothing but the roar of the paparazzi ringing in their ears. Damian felt small and pathetic, eclipsed by Grayson and lost in the huge room. Grayson was looking at him, regret and pity still shining bright in those blue eyes. He reached out a hand, as if to put it on Damian’s shoulder, but then hesitated before letting the appendage drop back to his side.

Both their shoulders slumped at once. Damian wouldn’t say it, but he didn’t mind Grayson touching him. Maybe Grayson had conditioned to it, but… well, Damian wouldn’t mind a hug right about now.

“Damian I’m sorry. I… I should’ve prepared you for this. Legally, it doesn’t matter what that man said. Freedom of speech and all that, y’know? You could be arrested for what you did. Socially… well, socially, this is the norm, I’m afraid. Those rumors are popular amongst the high society crowd. No matter what I say or how many punches you throw, that’s not gonna change. The rich will always be looking for the newest drama and those rumors are the only way their sick, twisted minds could rationalize playboy Brucie Wayne taking in a young, poor circus freak and a street rat. They don’t understand how the richest man in the city could lower himself to that, I guess. Therefore, Bruce must have a secret. Then Tim got roped into it: he was the heir to a fortune but the rumor wheel had already been spinning for years. Plus with all the bruises me and Jason had, especially around the legs… you can see where I’m going with this. I should’ve warned you. I guess I just assumed I had until your first gala, at least, before you heard something.”

“But that’s not right! Father would never–”

“I know he would never. You know that too, and that’s what’s most important. Maybe once upon a time we could’ve changed public opinion but the gossip rags are persistent. I like to believe that it’s the minority that buys into the bullshit. After all, Brucie Wayne is still Gotham’s sunshine child. As long as he stays on their good side and their good drama somewhere else, you won’t hear a word about those rumors. But there are people that truly believe it and you’re just gonna have to learn how to keep your cool around them. Violence will only make it worse. You understand?”

Damian stood there, stoic and pensive. His eyebrows nearly kissed as he scrunched up his forehead and his body slightly shook from how taut his muscles were. “Dami…” Grayson singsonged. “Dami…”

“Tt. Fine.”

“Great. Now come on.”

“Huh?” Damian eyes widened as Grayson held the door open for him. “I thought you said I had to stay here?”

“You was right, Dami, they don’t know the full story. While hearing it may not help, they should know that it’s their fault. That it’s their rumors that started all this. And I think you should be the one to tell them, if you want. A chance to defend yourself. But only if you’re comfortable with it. It’s a pretty big crowd…”

“I want to do it. I will show them what happens when you slander the name of a Wayne!”

Grayson snickered. “Damian…”

“With my words, of course. Promise.”

“Right.” Grayson gave a huge smile, eyes sparkling with a mischievousness that sent a shock down Damian’s spine. “Now let’s go tell the paparazzi exactly what we think of them!”

#DickandDamiweek2019 #dick grayson #Damian wayne #Nightwing #Robin #Damian is a good brother #and the rumors are awful #paparazzi

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cupofsorrows · 4 years

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Howard Lovecraft 5: Yes, This Is The Last One

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Alright chums, let’s do this, home stretch!

- Alright everybody, welcome back to Eldritch Wipeout!

- We’ve had a pretty uneventful day so far, but that might turn around with our next contestant! Standing three feet tall and hailing from Rhode Island, let’s give it up for Howard “Hard R” Lovecraft! *air horns*

- He’s gonna need to keep a level head for this, Tim.

- That’s for sure, Jack. Always keep your wits about you!

- That is, if you haven’t already lost your mind from revelations no man should bear!

- Looks like he’s already running into some trouble with the first trial- And they’re past it already!

- But let’s see how well they do in the second trial!

- We pulled out all the stops on this one...

...and by “all the stops”, I mean ‘ripped the hell off of Indiana Jones’!

Don’t forget Howard...in the Aklo alphabet, ‘Jehovah’ begins with an ‘I’!

- Pretty straightforward, Bob, just gotta find the right tiles to step on --

- Ooh! Do you think he realizes that the words “my father” in that inscription DON’T refer to his father?

- I’m sure he does, John. If the inscription had meant that, it would have said “your father”!

- Appears he does NOT understand this, Rick.

- You know kids these days, Bill, they just don’t got the grammar too good.

- Wait, looks like he’s got another idea...could it be?

- I think it is!

- Looks like he’s spelling out ‘Azathoth’ which IS the correct answer!

- Terrible animation as always, of course.

- No argument there, Dick.

- Just the worst.

- Anyway, it’s on to the third and final trial! This one’s gonna require a lot of creative thinking...

- Looks like he’s planning on reflecting the light from his glowy blue friend, definitely an unconventional solution!

- I’m not sure that’s how physics works, Fred...

- Well, it’s working, Don!

- Well, fuck me in the ass with a Honda, Paul, so it is!

- Just goes to show you can’t trust physics in a place like this.

- No you can’t, Ron.

- I think our boy Howard might just be home free - OH! LOOK at that! A mob of Deep Ones!

- Copy-pasted, by the looks of it!

- Earl, this might be a pickle they’re in now.

waaait a minute...Deep Ones don’t blink!

- Actually, Mark, it seems like they’re cool! They’re just letting him walk out of there.

- Come to think of it, Ted, I think those might just be some set technicians. They’ve been waiting to start disassembling the course, I think.

- Well then, that’s our cue! We have a winner, ladies gents and assorted entities! Thanks for tuning in!

whew, doing those voices was murder on my throat. Now back to the hostage situation:

Nothing much to say here, badguy seemingly wins, activates the ritual, yadda yadda.

oola ooh couchez avec moi, c’est soi?

You can’t really tell from the screencap, but at the crucial moment the book stops working because...

...yeah. I’m not sure ‘deus ex machina’ is the right term for a situation involving actual elder gods, but it sure is a convenient development that in no way hinged on the protagonist’s actions, isn’t it? (also wow. They...just did not bother to give that book any texture here, did they?) Anyhoo, the evil plan fails, miserably,

(I think this was Pepsi’s slogan back in the ‘90s.)

Abdul has finally Outlived His Usefulness™, although he manages a few more lines after being set on fire so I wonder whether that dorky outfit was actually flame retardant.

And there’s Dagon, just standing there awkwardly because this is his place and he actually has people coming over tomorrow so if you all would please hurry up?

The goodguys actually left before Nyarlahotep had even begun soliloquizing back there, and now they’re back safe and sound (except for Ma Lovecraft who is still dying).

Oh, look who it is! Yeah, they’re safe, no thanks to you. Hope you had a nice cup of tea while everyone else was almost dying.

He binds the three journals together into The Necronomicon, which is the only thing that can save Howard’s mother (apparently that requires a higher level of magic than awakening freaking Cthulhu).

Speaking of Mark Hamill, that new Dark Crystal show has been pretty good so far (he’s one of the skeksis in that). Anyways sorry I called you useless, Doc.

lol that bitch is FADED!

*ding* Turkey’s done!

Howard reads from the book to save her. BUT WILL HE BE IN TIME?

My God, she looks like she’s made of vinyl! SHE’S BACK TO NORMAL, EVERYBODY!

There it is, the ONE GOOD BIT in this whole sordid affair. And I’ve capped and posted it, so now you can safely not watch the movie without missing anything.

So Spot (...is he Cthulhu for real now? I don’t think so but...) Must Go Back To His Home Planet Now, His People Need Him. By the way, I am increasingly sure that this is supposed to be R’lyeh:

(sorry, Ruh-LAY)

So the baddies didn’t kill these guys. Ah, too bad, I guess.

Howard shares some meaningful last words with Armitage:

- And they return (via portal) to their home. Yes, their quiet, peaceful home, with its cozy beds and its tranquil garden and their little cat, Ni-

...why, who could THAT be?

I will say this about the animation: it stayed shitty right up to the end.

...

So...not Nick Fury, then.

Right now, I feel, the joke is very specifically on me.

Roll credits, including this bit here about how this was actually adapted from a graphic novel:

Notice that director/producer/voice of Spot/father or husband of half the cast Sean O’Reilly is there, but notice how many other people there are who seem to have had little or nothing to do with this movie. Wonder what that’s about?

If it’s one of those guys that did this credit art - orders of magnitude better than the animation for most of the actual film - it’s nothing short of a travesty that not only were they not involved with the main project but also that we get to see their stuff now just to taunt us with what might have been.

I mean, LOOK at all that! Damn!

“Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental”, says the movie with the child version of a famous horror author as the main character. SURE, WHY NOT.

WELP THAT’S ALL SHE WROTE - well, all she wrote, maybe, but I still have a bit more to add. So yeah, this was on the whole pretty dismal. Not quite as bad as it could have been, I’ll grant, but it missed most of its major cues. I DID like some things - Doug Bradley played a decent Nyarlahotep, the stuff with Azathoth was neat, and Winfield Lovecraft’s character was actually kind of engaging - even funny - at times. AT TIMES. And I will say that, perversely, Abdul Alhazred’s lackluster character design actually kind of stood out - I don’t think you’ll find very many other depictions of him where he’s Just Some Guy (who happens to be a powerful sorcerer). If nothing else, they pretty diligently avoided racializing him (not even a turban!) - yeah, it’s still true that the one evil human is also the only one with any nonwhite identifiers whatsoever (really just the name, in this case) but considering the source material if that’s the most problematic it gets then we got off SUPER easy.

Bad news is, basically everything else about this blows. The animation only hurts if you have eyes, but even the blind can hold O’Reilly accountable for the decision to cast all his kids. Then there’s the fact that the movie tries to bait us with big names, even though two of the top-billed stars (Plummer and Perlman) have probably less than a minute’s worth of lines between them (and ‘lines’ is a bit charitable in Perlman’s case [no disrespect to Ron, you’ll always be my Hellboy]). Seriously, did you even remember Dr. West until I brought him up just now? Wait, no, don’t actually try to recallAAUGH

AAAAAAAHH!

And now the Nyquil’s kickin’ in so I’m gonna have to bow out - but fortunately I’ve said pretty much everything I could think of to say anyway. Perhaps one day, when the stars are right, I might recap the other movies, including Howard’s Mother Eats A Whole Chicken. The future is full of mysteries!

...OK, bye.

#hp lovecraft #HLatUK #shit i actually got this one done before 2 am for once

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scandalsavagefanfic · 5 years

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You Ra's/Jay gives me life. So much food for my overactive imagination. Lately its the werewolf Ra's/ turned omega Jason. How Jason would if Ra's gets interested by Tim or is able to capture Bruce or Dick? Or the Bats find and break in the Pack base on a full moon and kidnap a wolf treathning one of his pups, cue later and just. The. Shock.

First of all, thank you so much anon!

Second, here’s the second part of the alpha werewolf!Ra’s/ turned hunter omega!Jason AU. There will be at least two more parts based on asks that are already in my inbox.

Please, I’m begging you, don’t send me more asks on this one. At least until the final part, that clears out some more of these prompt/headcanon things… I’m so swamped. I love you guys and I would dearly love to give you everything but they take time and cut into my other commitments (if you’re one of the people waiting for the next chapter of Muddy Waters… all this extra Ra’sJay is affecting how long it’s taking me to work on that). I love these things too and I’m writing as fast as I can, I promise.

Anywho… here you go…

Words 1420

Rated Mature (I guess? No explicit sex in this part but they are wolves)

(EDIT: This looks like it formatted very weirdly on the tumblr app...)

Read both parts on AO3

There is one incident whilethey are in Hungary. The pack goes hunting on the full moon, as usual, and leavesnewly pregnant Jason alone with his five pups and two guards, as usual.

There’s a commotion outsidethe door to the nursery where Jason, the moonlight from the window making his blackcoat glisten and the white streak along his spine look like it’s glowing, iscurled up protectively around his little fluff balls, all snoring softly ormaking those little high pitched whining noises they do while they chasesomething in their dreams.

He stands slowly not wantingto frighten his babies. For all that he hates his situation and Ra’s and theShadows and the fact that he has babies at all, he loves the littlemutts themselves. He’ll rip the throats out of whatever threat might comethrough that door.

But they look up at himanyway, jostled awake by his movements, with worry in their big puppy eyes. Hisfive little Alphas can sense his concern. So he noses them into a corner wherethe older three station themselves in front of their younger siblings, eventhough they all huddle together. Jason nuzzles them and gives them a littlelick on their heads, before taking up and hunched, aggressive position betweenthem and the door, bares his teeth and starts to snarl, low, deep, anddefinitely threatening.

He can’t help how hestraightens and whimpers in surprise when Bruce and Dick barge through, coveredin blood.

Guess the guards are donefor.

“We don’t have much timebefore the pack—“ Dick is saying as he enters and freezes when he sees a loneadult wolf and a bunch of pups.

“Holy shit,” he breathes.

Unless something has changedin the last year, they’d never seen werewolf babies before.

Jason doesn’t know what todo. He just stands there looking between them and hopes they don’t make himkill them. Or get himself killed.

“Bruce…”

“They’re still werewolves, Dick.”

Jason lowers himself into afighting stance again and growls. They both take a small step back.

“They’re… babies, Bruce,” Dickalmost whispers, horrified by the idea of killing the pups.

Jason relaxes a little. Hecan’t talk like this, not any human language, and he’s doing his damnedest tocommunicate to them to please not harm him and his kids. He’s tempted to sit,to try to show them that he doesn’t mean them any harm, but if they lunge forhim he’ll be unprepared.

Bruce swallows hard like hedoesn’t like the idea of hurting the little ones any more than his oldest. But Dick’seyes narrow at Jason.

“The mother isn’t attackingand only growled when you threatened them…”

Bruce glances at Dick quicklybefore looking back to him. Jason lets his tail wag to show that Dick is on theright track.

“You… don’t want to hurt usdo you?” Dick asks kindly but keeping his distance.

Jason gives a vigorous shakeof his head, pleading with them to understand.

His oldest (by about a minute,not that she lets that stop her from acting like she owns the place) leaps outin front of him growling, trying to protect her pack.

It’d be adorable if Jason’sheart wasn’t suddenly in his throat. He tries to reach for her, to stop her, tohold her back, but as Dick blinks in surprise, Bruce raises his gun.

On reflex Jason lets out aloud, terrified howl, taking half a step forward, the instinct to protect thegreater number of his pups battling fiercely with the desire to save the one.And still another part of him believes that lunging forward is the best way toget them all killed, and that staying put, beggingone part of his family to spare the other by proving that they’re not a threat,is the only way out.

“Bruce don’t!” Dick cries,grabbing onto the older man’s arm. Jason isn’t sure Bruce meant to fire at allif the surprise on his face when the gun goes off is anything to go by. But thesurprise of the pup jumping out at them and Dick’s frantic grasp makes theweapon fire.

The shot goes wide and Jasonyelps at a sudden burning sensation in his shoulder. He can feel the warmth ofhis blood trickling from the wound.

But he doesn’t care, barelynotices after the initial impact. Because his pup is still moving toward them,single minded in her biological drive to protect, growling in her precious babyvoice.

Jason is trembling,whimpering, he’s never been so afraid in his life. He doesn’t take his eyes ofher as she gets closer and closer to them.

Dick and Bruce look so lost.They obviously have no idea what to do.

When she’s a foot away, shestops growling and sniffs the air. She looks up, glancing between the hunters acouple times.

Then she paws at Bruce’s bootand yips up at him expectantly.

“What the hell?” Bruce exclaims,shocked and uncertain.

Dick’s eyes are wide and hisbrows are practically at his hairline. Which is exactly the look that would beon Jason’s face, if it were human.

When she’s ignored, the pupturns to Dick and gets up on her hind legs, pressing her front ones into Dick’scalf, and whines at him.

Dick looks at Bruce thenfocuses on Jason.

“Does… does she want me to… pet her?”

Jason glances between allthree of them. She must… think they’re pack. They smell like family to her.Jason’s heart swells even as it breaks.

He looks into Dick’s eyes andgives a single nod.

Dick hesitantly leans down whileBruce stares at Jason, making sure he doesn’t use the distraction to attack.

“This is the weirdest thing,”Dick mutters as he scratches her ears and she nuzzles into his hand.

Jason agrees.

“Agreed,” Bruce says.

Another moment passes and theballsy little girl rolls over so Dick can rub her belly.

Suddenly the almost comfortablesilence is split by a howl in the distance. But too close for comfort.

Jason cringes while Bruceturns toward the window. They must have heard his cry.

He doesn’t realize Dick’seyes find him and watch his reactions, curious.

“I’m not killing them,Bruce,” Dick says softly, “Any of them.”

Jason holds his breath,

“We… shouldn’t leave them to beraised with this pack, to grow into our enemies…” Jason’s heart thuds and hetries desperately to think of a way to tell them to take the pups and go. Hetrusts that Dick, at least, would protect them. And even Bruce doesn’t soundall that ready to harm them.

“I’m not killing them,” Dick reiterates very firmly, giving Jason’s pupone last scratch before standing and looking back to him.

“We’re gonna go, okay?” Dick saysto him, “I hope you remember this in the future.”

Jason will never forget.

And just like that they’regone.

Jason is glad he’s a wolfright now. Wolves can’t cry.

When the pack returns, waytoo close on the heels of the hunters, Ra’s, huge and imposing and overwhelmingly…Alpha, barges into the room snarling,enraged by the scent of human.

He takes a moment to check onhis pups, makes sure that they’re unharmed, before turning his attention toJason.

Jason flinches as the muchlarger wolf approaches and immediately soothes into submission when his Alphabegins to lick at his wound, cleaning it.

Eventually the blood is gone.But Ra’s doesn’t stop licking him, nosing at his neck and ears affectionately,until he’s nudged Jason into position.

It’s easy to give in. WhenRa’s is all fired up his scent is irresistible, especially if Jason is injuredor anxious or stressed. And he’s all those. Or was. A small part of him hateshow much better he feels since Ra’s arrived.

He whines when Ra’s entershim. He feels a wet tongue lick his nose and opens his eyes to see their oldestcurl up in front of him, touching her nose to his and happily dozing off nowthat her mother is safe and content.

He feels drugged up on the dotingand protective pheromones that hang thick in the air. When Ra’s bites him,knots him, and lets his weight sag against him the world feels right.

But in the far reaches of hismind he sees Dick smiling as he scratches the pup’s ears.

#ask #werewolf/hunter au #the pups are so cute #Jason Todd #Ra'sJay #Ra's al Ghul/Jason Todd #Alpha!Ra's #omega!Jason #hunter Dick #hunter Bruce

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