#dick--on the other hand--is a bit more emotionally distant from the family | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

trust-and-jump · 1 year

Text

Problems with Reverse Robins Tim Drake again (he's evilllll) (not really)

I KNOW I SAID I WILL POST ABOUT RED HOOD ARC WITH TIM BUT I JUST CAME UP WITH SOMETHING MORE INTERESTING TO ME. /I don't even like Tim and still, I don't know why i post and write about him more than about Damian who's more interesting to me, or about Jason, who is my favourite, but NEVERMIND/

This is going to be bad. Tim is not good. He's not truly bad either but.. Nah.

Bad English and typos, by the way! But here's this dumb post- - - - - - - -

Okay but even after returning to the family my Tim still has very few limits. He admits to himself that he loves and needs his family and he welcomed Dick and tries to fix things with Jason (and, well, he did some pretty bad things in cold blood with Jason, but he did regret it after everything), and he follows Bruce's rules, trying to redeem himself, but.

But.

Just when things are starting to get brighter than ever - Gotham finally gets actually better and safer, Bruce becomes a human being, Alfred is no more a soldier in a war, Cass almost completely stops being a vigilante and tries to build a new life, Jason decides he should get a new identity since Shrike's darkness is no longer needed in their city and to their Batman, Damian is calmer and more relaxed than ever— Jason dies. Not gonna explain how because it's a long story and it's different from canon (bc Jay is more confident with his place in the family and Bruce is more emotionally open and he has a brother Damian who cares about him a lot and actually spends time with him) but it's still a Joker mess and he still gets beaten with our favourite crowbar and blown up and dies.

And, ah, don't get me wrong, they are all shaken by it (Bruce is Bruce, all his emotional progress being ruined, Cass is cold and uncaring and angry and feels she should fill the gap and be vigilante again even though she doesn't want to, Damian, after some time, stops talking, Alfred is distracted, distant, Dick's 'confidence in tomorrow' is under threat, he just started building relationship with others), but Tim? Tim's a desperate young man, and he clings to his family and he, not unlike the others, didn't have a lot of experience with family. And he's, ah, he still didn't learn. Dami, Cass, Jason - they didn't have much of a child hood, but Bruce gave him a little of it, just a bit, just enough to find out how to love and how to express it. But when Drake got to Bruce he still had parents and kept emotional distance because, well, Bruce was a mentor, a close teacher, a worried adult, yes, and "it's good to be with him", yes, but Tim had living parents, so no, no, no. And it's not like Damian was nice to him once he found out that Tim stole Shrike and Bruce let him do it. Then the incident with his parents happened and then, at the end, he died the same day his father died, at the hand of the same murderer.

Again, Tim's childhood before joining Batman was more or less ordinary. Yes, his parents loved him but, sadly, starting from a certain age, weren't around much. And despite having babysitters and going to school, it's just... well, you know the opinion that almost all kids by default are sadistic psychopaths a little, and what makes some of them so insufferable is that they didn't learn better yet? Well. I, for example, was a little psycho because I remember really fcking well how I couldn't comprehend very 'simple' things such as love and genuinly caring about someone closer to me, and why putting myself in danger can upset the others (because I didn't feel it). And you know what, maybe it was because my parents were working hard and i almost never saw them back then. i wasn't lonely or something, I had A LOT of people around me. I, like, knew i wouldn't really care if anyone of them died. I know, it's horrible, I'm not like that anymore, it was late but I somehow learned how to love, i worked hard on it, i woke up when I was 16 or so and it was so, so exciting to realize that I'm not mimicking feelings anymore, and that I now know from an experience what others are feeling. And i was learning and it was very interesting to actually know what are the emotional problems in my family and i started to fix them using my old knowledge and my new experience and it actually sometimes worked. Just. Wow. I felt like I'm the puppeteer! I was burnt by this few times but mostly it was all great. Sometimes I still feel it, when I'm not busy deciding if i should kill myself or shouldn't.

So, Tim is a fictional character, and he's, like, a genius, so it wouldn't be the same, but.... But.

I'm obsessed with Tim "failing successfully".

You know that thing when a grieving family often has that one person in it who's more ready than others to keep everyone going? Look. It's supposed to be Cass here, but she's 16 and still not good with words and she feels too helpless. So she does that, but... Ah, just, look.

So, like I said, Tim got attached to Jason, of course (especially because of guilt), but when he died, after the initial shock dissapeared, Tim was much more worried about others. Jason was dead, but others weren't. And their job is dangerous enough to kill them if they are not at their best.

So. Are you ready? Because it's going to be a shitshow. Not as bad as it could be, but definitely a Tim Plan™️. Not much of a plan but something like that.

How WRONG is it to use your youngest recently adopted brother to emotionally replace your deceased brother in order to keep your grieving family from imaginary collapse (because you are a sucker with the IQ of a genius but you are not able to treat the family object humanely), literally instructing this little brother about how he should behave in order to, quote, "save" the others, and trying to make him a new Robin (not a Shrike because nooo, it wouldn't work with others) in order to fill the hole left from the one who died?

you know what Dick should say to Bruce, you know when Dick should try to cheer up Cass, you know when Dick should be vulnerable with Damian, you know how Dick should spend time with Alfred, and you teach that Dick, because you're smart enough, and you understand now, and it terrifies you how everything seems to fall apart, how every member of your family is acting different and how something worse is bound to happen.

Oh, yes, about the question of who "you" are: you're a person who died once as a civilian and, after resurrection, got rid of the remnants of your flimsy morality with help of Ra's al Ghul; you are a person who worked for the League of Assassins for a couple of years by your own choice, and then, upon returning to the family and realizing that Ra's left you a 'gift' in your body, agreed to follow the Bruce's rules and redeem yourself for some of shit that you did to this family both when you were sane and when you gave in to Pit madness. And when everything just started to look good, and you even realized that you love this imperfect family, the bro you once tortured (while you were "on the bad" side) and regretted about it later, died, and now you see how bad everything is and decide with your stupid smart head that, in order to reduce suicidal tendencies of the head of the family, to return to the older brother something he could focuse to protect and care about, as well as to make your sister Cass once again be kind and gentle and caring/not angry to everyone, you need a plan for the emotional replacement of this deceased brother, who, it seems to you, was a glue, and your youngest sibling — (you should first get him out of Kent family where he was sent to spend a little time while the bats deal with shithole Gotham became again after Shrike's death and Joker's latest joke) — is the ideal option, being naive and selfless enough to do whatever you say, because it "helps our family to keep their sanity, see? Damian can talk again, Cassandra is at home more often, and Bruce finally started to come to his senses! Be patient, everything will be fine, you're doing great, it's almost done."

You're Tim Drake.

And... Two things.

This scheme worked, it helped.

Tim doesn't understand few things: you shouldn't try to 'save' family from grief. The family wouldn't fall apart without you trying to do it. Things would get better after some time. Tim is DUMB. DUMB. And Dickie doesn't exactly suffer but. It's just a lot. It's a very hard thing to do even when you are an adult. And when you're a child? Well. It's exhausting and it feels wrong to always behave around others exactly as you told to behave. And when it's suggested like a mission, and when Tim played it as the first step to be a bat like EVERYONE ELSE in this family, so you can finally help instead of just watching how everyone gets hurt in their nightlife. It's just. Wrong. Even though he's supporting Dick all the ways he can and spends a lot of time with him. It's still terribly wrong.

Guys, Tim is dumb here, sorry. He is clever. But he is dumb. I mean. He used himself like that in canon, but here he is a young adult (20-22 y? I'm not sure) and he knows much more, enough to do it much better. He would do it himself, would work hard to make each of them happier, but he thinks he's not the right person for this, considering how much shit he's done to them. He is wrong, because he definitely could do things better if he tried. But he didn't try. He just thinks that this plan with him would be 'Inefficient'. He is dumb.

AND ME TOO. I WOULD TOTALLY DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS IF I WERE IN HIS PLACE. I KNOW IT. OH MY GOD 😭😭😭 i know that maybe this whole mess doesn't make sence to some of you but i swear it does to me because I would do it. I would do it.

10 notes · View notes

invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years

Text

All Men Have Limits - XI

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,700+

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse

Previously on…

How did she let this happen?

Y/N had tried to push her short-lived romance with Bruce Wayne out of her mind for two years. And the moment she sees him again, for the first time since, it all went to hell.

Why did she let him have her so easily?

Why was he so hard to fight?

His presence was difficult to ignore. And when he acted on their mutual feelings, Y/N knew she’d do just about anything for him.

But could two stubborn, emotionally distant, and nearly impossible people make it work?

But then Dick…Dick Grayson.

Whenever Y/N thought of him, a warmth spread through her chest. He wasn’t scared of her. Instead of trying to break down her walls, he patiently waited for her to open a side door for him. He was patient and kind. Though he adopted Bruce’s flirtatious and charming ways, it was backed by substance in a way Bruce never bothered to follow up with.

Both men loved her differently.

But that didn’t mean one loved her more than the other either.

–––––––––––

When Y/N reached the bottom of the cave, she found Dick training.

He was shirtless with a pair of shorts on, lifting himself up on the still rings.

She allowed herself to watch him for a moment.

It was unreal the amount of strength he held to be able to move the way he was. He had clearly been modest when she asked if he could go to the olympics.

Dick’s skin was shining, drenched in sweat.

How long had he been working out?

What she didn’t know was that Dick had been at it for hours, trying to work out his frustrations by making himself physically exhausted.

Finally Dick landed by doing an aerial dismount that consisted of so many twists and flips that Y/N just blinked in amazement.

“Come to get your equipment?” Dick asked without looking at her.

He was out of breath and clearly tired as he rubbed his face with a towel.

“Yeah,” she answered. “Jason’s bringing one of his cars to help me pack it up.”

She didn’t want to inconvenience anyone else in the family further. But she couldn’t exactly hire a TaskRabbit to help her pack up thousands of dollars worth of hacking equipment and ask them to drop it off at one of her many safe houses.

Plus, Jason owed her after the scene he cased at that infamous family dinner, and she made sure to tell him so.

Dick scoffed a bit. “So, you and Jason hang out now?”

Y/N smirked. “We started a club. We’re calling it The Club for the Parentally Abused and Recently Resurrected.”

Dick could help but let a smile slip.

“But I also came to talk to you.”

He walked past her now, and still hadn’t even looked at her since she arrived.

“You don’t owe me any explanation, Y/N. I got the message loud and clear.”

Y/N took in a deep breath. This was going to be hard. But she had to do it.

“When I was five years old, I left my stuffed animal at the park. I wouldn’t stop crying on the drive home. My parents started screaming at me to be quiet. Eventually they gave up, pulled over, and kicked me out of the car. It was 5 miles back to the apartment and it was 30 degrees out. Luckily, I knew my way home."

The story made Dick’s eyes snap up and he finally looked at her. And when he did, his expression was filled with rage and sympathy – rage towards her parents, but sympathy for Y/N. She should’ve never had to deal with such abuse.

Y/N shrugged. “And that’s one of the better moments.”

Dick took a step towards her. “Y/N…”

Her eyes were glued to the ground as she continued. “To this day, I jump anytime someone drops something. I can’t watch sports because the sound of men yelling causes panic attacks.”

Then she finally found the courage to meet his gaze.

“When I meet men, in my eyes, they’re all my father until they prove otherwise. And the reason I’m always waiting for the floor to drop out from underneath me... is because it always has.”

Dick waited.

Y/N knew he was silently telling her he understood.

A couple tears managed to slip down her face, but she quickly wiped them away.

“Bruce was the first person I ever shared my past with. And now…now you’re the second.”

Dick still didn’t know what to say to her.

“I’m so sorry for hurting you, Dick. That was never ever my intention.”

Dick sighed, “I know.”

And he did. He did know.

Dick took in a deep breath, “I spent a big part of my life trying to stop myself from turning into him. I became terrified by the idea. I started disagreeing with his methods. He stopped looking like the perfect man to me. Eventually, I left Gotham because of it all.”

He shook his head in disappointment. “But I’m realizing those are the same things that make him the man that you love.”

His hand moved through his hair. “Now I’m starting to wonder…what if the only things you like about me is just everything that he made me be?”

Y/N couldn’t listen to any more of it. She couldn’t keep standing there and hear him tear himself down and compare himself to the man he had idolized for most of his life. Even if he saw Bruce as just human now, the man was still somewhat of a father figure to him.

“No,” she immediately stepped to Dick and clutched his face.

On instinct alone, he put his hands on top of hers, scared she’d stop touching him too quickly.

“Dick, listen to me. That’s not true. None of that’s true.”

“Don’t just tell me what you think I want to hear,” he begged.

“I’m not. I promise I’m not.”

Y/N took in a shaky breath.

By telling Dick what he needed to hear, Y/N was also exposing herself. It was scary for her. Talking to Dick about their complicated relationship was like speaking a different language compared to the way she used to communicate with Bruce. And she could admit that communication was often no communication at all.

“The things I love about you have nothing to do with Bruce,” her words were unafraid and sincere.

Dick blinked at the word ‘love.’

“You wear your heart on your sleeve, Dick. And I know you’re sometimes ashamed of it, because you’ve been convinced that you shouldn’t do that. But it’s…it’s so… different.”

She laughed lightly at herself, “Different than what I’m used to. Different than what I’ve ever expected from men.”

“I always know what’s going on in that heart of yours,” she continued. “There’s no guessing with you. I never doubt your feelings. Because you don’t hide anything.”

Y/N figured out what she was really trying to get at.

“Because you’re not scared.” She paused. “You’re not scared to love me, even when you think you don’t have a chance.”

“Do I have a chance?” He whispered.

Y/N finally dropped her hands from his face and stepped away from him. “I can’t – Dick, I can’t get between you two.”

He chuckled darkly. “It’s a little late for that.”

Y/N hid her face in her hands in desperation. “Please, don’t say that to me. Please.”

“He’s in love with you, too.” Dick declared.

“Dick, stop!”

“No, I won’t.” He snapped back. “Bruce is in love with you, Y/N. And you can’t keep lying and convincing yourself that he’s not.”

“It’s not that simple!”

But she could tell he was growing frustrated with her.

“Then tell me why you love him,” Dick surprised her by asking. “I need to know. I need to know why, because that’s the only way I’m going to be able to let you go.”

Y/N’s lips trembled as her eyes filled with tears again. She shook her head, “Please don’t make me.”

But when she looked up, his gaze was pleading.

So Y/N closed her eyes, the pressure of it made more tears escape and slide down her cheeks. She took in a deep breath, desperate for it to calm her down enough to even speak.

“That first night me and him shared...I hadn’t slept that soundly in years. And it was because I felt...safe. He’s always made me feel safe, like nothing could ever happen to me.” She shook her head and her eyes glazed over as she remembered the past. “I know I asked for this life. I’m always on the edge of being in danger, and I always have to be on the move. But it just felt like...like I could finally breathe.”

She gave Dick a sad smile. “And it’s been the same since I got here. I was just too stubborn to admit it.”

Then she shook her head. “I’m so tired of being scared. And I’m so tired of convincing myself that I don’t deserve to be loved.”

“Y/N,” Dick whispered her name as if he was begging. He moved to her and clutched her face and bowed until their foreheads touched. “I can keep you safe, too. I promise. I always will.”

“I know. Because you’re the only reason I’m alive right now.”

“I love you, Y/N.” He murmured as if it was his most treasured secret.

But they had both known that for awhile.

“And I know you love Bruce…but I think you love me, too.”

Y/N hesitated before she whispered, “I do love you.”

Dick didn’t even try to stop himself from kissing her.

He pulled her hips to his, refusing to allow any space between their bodies. Her lips were wet with tears, but he didn’t care. This kiss needed to tell her everything he felt. This was his final statement. If his words couldn’t convince her, then maybe he could make her feel it all.

Jason Todd’s timing was like the rapture.

His car screeched to a stop on the platform below them.

Except Dick didn’t give a damn if his brother saw them. He barely let Y/N pull away, but still tried to brush her tears away with his thumb as it grazed her cheek.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jason yelled up with a cheeky grin.

Y/N still shifted out of Dick’s embrace.

To both the men’s surprise, she didn’t glare down at Jason.

“Come on. I’ll help you get all this into his truck,” Dick told her softly.

Their moment had ended.

And Dick couldn’t help but believe that he’d lost her.

———

Jason helped Y/N carry all her equipment in the storage unit she had directed him to.

The young man had the same strength as three professional movers and she was taking full advantage of it.

“Don’t you want all this crap with you?” Jason asked when he finally moved the final piece inside.

Y/N pulled down the garage door, slamming it closed, and activated multiple locks before facing him.

“Nope.”

Jason eyed her suspiciously. “Don’t tell me The Court traumatized you into retiring…”

“Of course not. But I am taking a break.”

He nodded, accepting the answer.

“Where to next?” He asked while nodding towards his truck.

“You don’t have to give me a ride. I think I want to walk.”

“Hell no. Bruce and Dick would kill me if I let you do that.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and slowly opened her jacket to show that she had one of her guns hidden away.

“You taught me well.”

Jason sighed heavily, “You wanna be alone. I get it.”

“Thank you for your help, Jason.”

He just shrugged, “I owed you.”

Y/N nodded and shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

“You know what you’re doing?” Jason asked.

“Not really,” she admitted.

To her surprise, Jason's face was sympathetic. “Look, I know I give you a lot of shit. And none of it’s my business.”

He scratched the back of his neck.

“They both love you. OK? And I know they both go about showing it in completely different ways. But that’s just how they are. We’re all a fuckin’ mess.”

“I know,” Y/N mumbled as she looked at the ground, shoulders slumped.

“But I know what it’s like to be beaten down by life. So I just want to make sure you remember that you deserve it.”

“Deserve what?” Y/N asked, confused.

“To be loved.” Then his eyes turned the most serious she’d ever seen, and he pointed to her sternly. “Don’t let what happened in the past make you think otherwise.”

Jason already hated how preachy he sounded, so he gave a final nod and walked to the driver’s side of the truck.

“Jason!” She called out.

He paused before he got into the driver’s seat.

“The same goes for you.” She smiled. “Remember, we’re in a club now.”

He smirked before giving her a final salute, and driving away.

———

Walking back to her safe house was therapeutic for Y/N.

Yeah, there were worse places than Wayne Manor to be kept on house arrest. But Y/N also couldn’t remember the last time she went on a walk like this. It did wonders to clear her head.

Though she was still paranoid and made sure to remain aware of her surroundings. And she probably looked over her shoulder too frequently to appear natural. But after everything she’d been through, her life still didn’t feel safe.

So, imagine Y/N’s panic when she walked into her safe house and immediately knew someone had been there.

She immediately pulled out her gun and started to do a perimeter check.

However, her panic slowly subsided when she saw a note on the kitchen counter.

Next to the note was what appeared to be a tracking device. Not as sophisticated as anything Y/N could make. But it was still rather advanced.

She walked closer to read it and instantly recognized Bruce’s handwriting.

“We had a deal,” was all he’d written.

When Y/N turned on the tracker, she quickly noted that the coordinates it gave matched the location of Wayne Manor.

A sad smile spread across her lips at the blinking light.

This was a strange way of expressing affection and trust, but that was Bruce.

There had been a part of her that didn’t believe Bruce Wayne would ever allow someone to always know where he was. But then again, he always found a way to surprise her.

Y/N looked around at her apartment.

It was cold and unwelcoming. The purpose was to provide a safe location and remain isolated. It was never meant to become a home – none of her safe houses were. Without her equipment humming, it felt even quieter than usual – unsettling even.

One thing was sure to Y/N…she couldn’t live this way anymore.

–––––––––––

Dick was fixing up his motorcycle in the garage at the manor.

He was planning on driving it across the country and wanted to make sure it was in good ship before he put that kind of mileage on it.

His attention shifted away from it when his phone lit up and vibrated from a message.

To Dick’s surprise, he read Jason’s name.

“You should talk to her. I think she’s really going through it right now,” was all his younger brother texted.

Dick sighed in frustration and tossed his phone away a little too roughly.

He rubbed his face.

He’d been suffering from a headache every day since he last saw Y/N.

Maybe it was his punishment for submitting so easily.

Dick stood up from kneeling next to his motorcycle.

No, he wasn’t going to talk to Y/N.

But he was going to talk to Bruce.

While Dick had been distracting himself with his upcoming escape back to the Titans, Bruce drowned himself in new cases. He’d extended his patrolling hours so long that he barely had time to sleep and eat. Half the time, he didn’t even bring Damian along with him.

Dick knew he would find Bruce in the cave, seeing as he hadn’t left it in days.

Bruce didn’t turn away from his research even though he heard Dick’s entrance.

But that didn’t slow Dick down as he marched to him.

“Are you really going to do this?” Dick shot.

He didn’t need to elaborate, they both knew what he was talking about.

“We’re not having this discussion,” Bruce tried to shut it down without even looking at him.

“Nope. That’s not going to work anymore.” Dick reached out and pressed a button, turning all of the screens blank. “We’re talking about this whether you want to or not!” Dick snapped.

Bruce was clearly irritated. Not only did he finally acknowledge Dick and meet his gaze, but he also stood from the chair and sized him up.

Dick’s jaw clenched before he began. “I know you’d protect her with your life. But are you going to protect her from Bruce Wayne?”

The question was brutal, but necessary.

Dick wasn’t holding back any longer.

“Because we didn’t have any choice. We changed our expectations and adapted. But Y/N? She shouldn’t have to do that. So you’re either all in or you need to let go.”

The ‘we’ was Dick and his brothers, but Bruce didn’t need him to clarify.

Dick never had any intention of being cruel. But he had to be blunt with Bruce. And Dick wasn’t going to watch as he put Y/N through what he and his brothers had to in the past.

She would bend and fold herself for Bruce, lowering her expectations and latching onto what little he gave her, putting it all on a pedestal and giving it more meaning than it deserved.

“If you promise to actually commit to someone for the first time in your life and put them before Batman, I’ll walk away. I’ll do it for you. And I’ll do it for her.” The fire in his eyes was blazing. “But I can’t sit back and watch as you treat her like shit. She deserves better than that. And you know it.”

There wasn’t a single lie in what Dick said.

Over the years, Dick was always the most frustrated with Bruce’s lack of emotional competence. Jason was angry at Bruce for far more than just that. Tim didn’t seem to have many thoughts on it. And Damian didn’t see it as a problem, which was an entirely different issue.

But if it weren’t for Dick, Bruce would be far worse – even though that seemed rather impossible.

“Do you love her?” Bruce asked Dick.

He blinked at the question, taken off guard by how intimate it felt coming from Bruce.

“Yes,” Dick answered, leaving no room for doubt.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?” Dick glared at him.

But Dick still jumped right into it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Y/N is one of the smartest people I’ve ever met in my life. She makes me laugh – even when I know her sarcasm and humor are hiding darkness. She’s selfless – more selfless than all of us. And she cares about everyone, even when they don’t deserve it. She dedicated her life to helping people and, until recently, she was fine doing it all by herself. ”

Bruce couldn’t help but smirk darkly at Dick’s list and crossed his arms, “You forgot to mention how beautiful she is.”

“Yeah. Well… anyone with eyes knows that,” Dick rumbled.

Bruce was quiet, clearly deep in thought.

What was going on in that head of his?

“She left Gotham,” Bruce finally stated.

Dick’s eyes widened. “Left?”

“Yesterday.”

“Yesterday? So...what? You don’t know where she is or you’re not going after her?” Dick snapped.

“I know where she is.”

Dick’s face dropped. “You’re not going after her,” he muttered in disbelief.

Bruce didn’t have to say anything to confirm Dick’s suspicions.

“You’re an asshole and a fool, Bruce.”

“I’m doing the best thing for her,” he countered.

“That’s what you think. But how will she feel?” Dick shook his head in disgust. “But you never ask yourself those questions, do you, Bruce? You never consider other people’s feelings.”

“I promised to always put Gotham first, Dick.”

“Oh, come on, Bruce!” Dick groaned. “You made that promise – what? – 20 years ago? Don’t try to tell me that things haven’t change.”

“You think she wants to stay in this mansion by herself, wondering if I’m going to come back alive?” Bruce finally fought back. “You think she deserves a man who will always put her second?”

“Then don’t, Bruce! Don’t put her second! She chose you! Don’t make her regret it!”

But Dick had enough and he also wanted the final word.

So with that, he stormed out of the cave, leaving Bruce alone again.

Dick was about to go to his room and finish packing up his things to leave when Alfred called his name.

“This arrived for you,” Alfred informed him politely as he offered him an envelope.

Dick’s heart beat faster as he grabbed the letter, somehow already knowing it was from Y/N.

He ripped it open without hesitation, not bothering to wait for the privacy of his room to read it.

Dick,

We both know I’m absolute shit at opening up. But I am hoping that maybe writing it all down will be easier. I figured it’s worth a try.

I’m sorry for the way things happened. I hope you believe me when I say that I never meant to hurt the two of you.

It recently occurred to me that I haven’t experienced much of life.

I went from living in an abusive household, to living on the streets, to using all of my energy trying to bring down the corrupt. I’ve spent so much of my life either running or fighting that I realized I don’t actually know how to just simply…live.

So...

By the time you get this, I will have left Gotham. I think it’s about time I stop running and start learning who I am when I stand still.

I don’t expect you to forgive me for pushing and pulling you.

But I hope you believe me when I say I love you. I really do, Dick Grayson.

And the truth is, you scared the shit out of me. But I also know you deserve someone more than just me. And the idea of you realizing that at any moment, only to leave me, was too heartbreaking to face.

I hope this isn’t goodbye forever.

“When did this arrive?” Dick asked almost panicked.

“Just this morning, Master Dick.” Alfred answered.

“Thanks, Alfred.”

He took a few steps toward the stairs before Alfred called out, “Master Dick?”

“Yeah?”

“It feels rather important to emphasize that there was only one letter…”

Dick’s gaze flickered to where the cave entrance was, the place they both knew where Bruce was currently hiding.

Then he looked back to Alfred, showing that he understood what he was trying to silently tell him.

Y/N didn’t write a letter to Bruce.

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

Part 12 – The End

I’m sorry to tell you that there is only one more part after this.

So please please please let me know what you think. Write me a book report. Write me a novel.

A/N: The scene between Bruce and Dick was inspired by two things:

This conversation from the comics.

And this scene from Sabrina. Obviously this is a much more comical take, but I’ve seen this movie probably 100 times and it holds a similar meaning to this story.

#all men have limits #all men have limits part 11 #dick grayons x reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x reader x dick grayson #dick grayson x reader x bruce wayne #bruce wayne reader insert #dick grayson reader insert #batman x reader #nightwing x reader #batboys #batfam

392 notes · View notes

the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 5

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Pairing: Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader (Gender neutral) Rating: T for language and mentions/references to an (emotionally) abusive relationship. Mild, brief violence. Warnings: TW for referenced emotional abuse, mild TW for possible physical abuse (sorry, angry Dani is not 100% gentle with people she doesn't love-love) Notes: Music for this chapter here. If you're following this story and really want to continue reading, but worry about the TWs for this chapter, just send me an anonymous message and I'll write up an alternative version of this post. It's not something I would do without it being requested, but it's also not a big deal so don't feel like you're bothering me if you want that. Previous Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Tocatta

Chapter 5: Poco a Poco (Italian: Little by little)

Finding a schedule for lessons to follow proved to be an insurmountable task. Consistency was something that Daniela struggled with greatly, even when it came to things that she genuinely cared about. Things like ensuring you lived long enough to entertain her. Instead of working with you to find a balance that worked for both of you, the youngest Dimitrescu daughter seemed intent on doing things in her own time. Little by little. Which would have been fine, if the two of you weren’t restricted by time.

Fate wasn’t entirely unkind, however. There were still a few things that Daniella recalled from her “youth”, bits and pieces of musical theory, the bare basics of reading sheet music. Not having to teach her proper posture or the structure of a piano would save you a little bit of time. On top of that, you had been informed that, somewhere in the castle, there were a few books of sheet music you could borrow. Assuming you were eventually able to find them, that is. So far they had eluded you, but you hadn’t even had much time to search, as you were still expected to perform your usual Maiden-related tasks.

In the end, it was Daniela herself that proved to be the biggest obstacle in your way.

“Look,” Daniela said one day, barely ten minutes into a lesson, “I think we should take a break… maybe have some fun?” One of her hands is resting on top of yours, the other tucking your hair behind your ear. There’s a smirk on her lips, unsurprisingly, and she’s mere inches away from kissing you. If not for the heavy threat hanging over your head, you would have already thrown yourself into her arms. Instead, all you can do is sigh, turning away from her as you do. “Don’t be like that, sweet thing. C’mon, no one can hear us right now. Might as well enjoy ourselves.”

“Babe. Darling. Buttercup, honey, cute little button on a bear, you are not the brightest bulb in the lighting department,” you replied, holding the bridge of your nose between two fingers. Instantly Daniela is upset, giving you a (thankfully) playful smack on the arm. Before she can protest more you continue speaking. “Your family would not hear us making out, true, but they would definitely hear us not playing the piano. I’m pretty sure your mother already thinks I’m doomed to fail as a teacher, and the last thing I need is to give her a reason to drop the curtains this early into our performance.”

“First of all, I am not an idiot,” Daniela said, a bit of a growl to her voice. “Secondly, what harm can a few minutes really do? Don’t you think I’ve been working hard enough to earn a little reward?” Now she’s holding a finger under your chin, lifting it up, making sure you’re looking right at her. There’s no dissuading her, it seems, as she leans in for a soft kiss. This was one of the more frustrating aspects of dealing with (courting?) her; communication felt like a one-man play, except the audience was as likely to throw knives as rotten tomatoes. Whenever Daniela acted like this, pushing away your concerns in favor of her pleasure, it felt helpless to try and resist her.

So you kissed back, wrapped your arms around her, and hoped that she’d be more open to compromise afterwards. At least kissing her was nice. Even though it had only been a week since you first kissed her, she was already getting better, evidently learning through experience. The passion behind her movements had grown as well, leaving you a tad breathless. Regardless of her odd perception of romance, and her insistence that she knew best, you found yourself charmed by her. It was scary. Terrifying, really, how you felt yourself falling under her spell. Wait. Hadn’t you been in this sort of situation before?... Staying with someone who wasn’t good for you? Why were you kissing her? Why were you starting to tremble, tears in your eyes, mind falling down a slippery slope of memories?

By the time you snap out of it, you’re sitting on the floor, Daniela awkwardly kneeling by your side. What the fuck? You think, sniffling a little. Head spinning, mind reeling, you struggle to form coherent thoughts. Next to you Daniela is unsure of how to help. But she’s trying, sort of, one hand holding your own, the other gently rubbing your back. She’s saying something, the words going right over your head. Understanding her takes times, focus, like tuning an instrument until the pitch is just right.

“I don’t understand, we were only kissing, what happened? Can you even hear me? Is this your way of tricking me into not making out with you? Because that’s a total dick move and-” she rambles, only stopping when you give her hand a soft squeeze. Then she’s meeting your gaze, looking uncomfortable, shoulders tense. “You’ve been weird for a while. Distant. Like you don’t want to touch me anymore. Don’t you still love me?”

There’s real, honest pain in her eyes when she speaks. If the timing had been different… you’d have thrown your arms around her and covered her face in kisses, promising to hold her onto she felt better, promising that yes you cared. You cared so fucking much. But she’s making you exhausted; every second has to be focused on her, not you. Every moment of concern is flipped around until she’s the victim, or at least the one that needs comforting. You didn’t think that she even realized what she was doing. Well, you hoped that she didn’t, wanted to believe that if she understood she’d change.

“Remember the first day we kissed?... how you pulled me close, and I kissed you harder, and we started…. Remember how I made a move and you pushed me away? I’ll never forget the look on your face. I felt like shit afterwards. I should have asked before I tried anything,” you explain, letting go of Daniela’s hand so you could pull your knees to your chest. Somehow you can’t bring yourself to maintain eye contact with her- not right now, not when you could still remember what it felt like to be on her side of this story. “I don’t want to push your boundaries, or make you feel pressured to do something you don’t want to do. The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you like that.”

“Oh bullshit,” Daniela snarled, shocking you, before getting to her feet. Confusion doesn’t begin to describe how you feel in the moment as you watch her pace back and forth. Both her hands are clenched into fists, and she’s refusing to look at you. There’s a buzzing sound in the room, faint but growing louder, like she’s a split second away from entering swarm mode. “We’re a couple, aren’t we? Shouldn’t you be able to tell what I want? Shouldn’t it be obvious what I desire, when I’m pinning you to the wall and shoving my tongue down your throat? What more do you require?”

“Holy shit, Dani, I know communication isn’t your forte, but have you really not even considered talking to me? That’s simple, easy, literally the first thing that should come to mind!” You snapped, too in disbelief to keep your voice down. For a moment Daniela stops her pacing, turning to stare at you with narrowed eyes. If you weren’t so mad, you’d be convinced she was ready to kill you. But she doesn’t move to grab her sickle, or otherwise advance on you, instead groaning and tugging on her own hair in frustration.

“Because that’s not romantic, genius!” She replied. Some dots start to connect in your mind, but you lack the full context, as if looking at sheet music with no clefs or time signature. It’s not until Daniela continues that you really understand; and, by extension, realize just how ridiculous this whole mess is. “None of the books I’ve read involve conversations like this. People just… they just love each other! And figure it out as they go along, reading each other’s body language and facial expressions, inferring what they need to know through touches and reactions. Why can’t we do that?”

“This isn’t a fucking book, dumbass! I don’t have powers like you, I can’t just read your mind and figure out what you want. That’s not how relationships work! Communication is key. And you can’t just talk, you have to listen, hard, and understand,” you continued, still on the floor, heart pounding so furiously you thought it might leap from your chest at any moment. As angry as you are, you wonder if you’re being too loud, too angry, wonder if there was a better way to get through to Daniela. Before you can think of a solution the air is ripped from your lungs. Your “partner”/student is grabbing you by the front of your shirt, yanking you to your feet. Instinct makes you struggle against her, as useless as it is.

“I. Told. You. I’m not an idiot!” Her free hand comes up to your face, cupping your cheek for a moment, then pulling away just as fast. When it moves back up she’s gripping onto her sickle. The sharp edge ends up resting against your neck, the slightest movement threatening to cut you open. This is the most Daniela has ever openly threatened you, and in that moment all your anger melts back into fear, tears spilling down your cheeks. A flicker of something shows in her eyes, making you think that even she doesn’t like where this is going. “Give me one reason not to end this right now.”

“... I don’t… I can’t think. I… Why would you?” The words leave you in a rush, even with the pauses, and each syllable makes the sickle press into your skin a little more. There’s sure to be a cut there, though you can’t even begin to estimate how bad it is. The blade is sharp, clearly, and it hardly even hurts as it slices you. Thankfully the sensation doesn’t last long. Once you’re done speaking, Daniela’s grip loosens considerably, hand slowly letting your shirt go. Her other hand takes a few seconds to move, but eventually pulls away without any fuss. For a few seconds she just watches you, eyes filled to the brim with a rich sorrow, mouth open but unmoving.

“No lesson tomorrow. I need a break,” Daniela whispers, barely audible. Then she’s dusting herself off, no longer looking at you, and heading towards the exit. Just like the first time you met, she pauses in the doorway. “How’s that for communication, hmm?” When she laughs, it’s empty, forced. Part of you wants to stop her and ask if she’s okay.

Instead, you watch her leave, unspoken words tangling with your tongue until you almost can’t swallow.

Then your feet move, automatically, leading you to the piano. You sit down without thinking. You touch the keys without thinking. When you play, you play without thinking. It’s just a song, the world tells you, and you have no choice but to play. It’s not just a song, you know this, but you can’t think. Can’t argue against the personification of your isolation, or the embodiment of your trauma. All you can do is let yourself get lost in the music, softly, recalling lyrics from a forgotten time.

I’ve been running all my life, trying to find a place to hide ‘Thought that I had settled down, but I guess things are changing now Don’t make me go, don’t make me go Just don’t make me go, this feels like home

As soon as the last note fades out you stand, wordlessly, and leave. Your feet carry you down corridor after corridor, past maidens working, some of whom gasp when they see you. But you don’t stop, not even when you cross paths with Lady Bela, who eyes you with surprising concern. She doesn’t try to stop you, though, and you doubt you would have cared if she had tried. It’s not until you are within your shared room that you finally stop moving. It is there that you sit, shaking, finally pressing a cloth to your neck. Blood stains the fabric, first in just a few dots, then spreading out. There’s not enough to make you fear for your life, but there is enough to make you cry harder. Washing the wound will sting… so you don’t do that. Soon you will have to return to your work, and the thought puts pressure on your skull, summoning an all-too-familiar migraine.

When you close your eyes, you don’t mean to fall asleep, but that is exactly what you do. And when you dream, you do not wish for nightmares. You never do- and fate never denies you their company.

#daniela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #big oof in the chat for this one boys #introducing the secondary conflict #don't worry the next one will be happier :)#tw emotional abuse #we learn little hints of the reader's backstory here

157 notes · View notes

youresog0lden · 3 years

Text

The Third Of December || Spencer Reid

25 days of Spencer MASTERLIST

masterlist (NORMAL ONE)

Warnings: mentions of death, cursing, mentions of a dead body, crying, and kissing.

Summary: Y/N regrets telling her feelings to the one and only Spencer Reid.

WC: 2.3K

Everything changed the night I told him. He got more distant with me. He never talked anymore. He made ways to talk to the rest of the team but never me. It was frustrating to have someone you used to be so close with not even acknowledge your existence. Sitting in my office Emily barges in.

“Hey Y/N.” She says quietly

“Hello Em.” I look up for a second writing something down on the sheet of paper infront of me.

“Is Spence still not talking to you.” She took a seat on the couch.

“No. He doesn’t even look at me. He just kinda ignores me.” I look at the calendar. December 3rd.

“It’s been two months dude. I miss my friend.” I sigh, taking a sip of the burning coffee infront of me. Two of the longest months of my life, everytime I needed someone to come over and tell me everything was going to be okay, everytime I wanted someone to hold me as I sobbed because we lost another kid to a case. He was supposed to be there, he always used to be there. Then suddenly he wasn’t. He wasn’t there at my door with chinese food and a movie. He wasn’t there when it was three in the morning and I needed someone to hold me. He wasn’t there on the jet when it was a long case and I needed someone to rest my head on their shoulder and tell them about everything going on. He was my person, without him here I was empty.

Work felt like a choice, not something I had to do. Work was exhausting. Emotionally and physically. Nothing felt the same as when I first joined the BAU. I’ve accepted it but sometimes you just need to let everything go and take a break for yourself.

“Y/N, you listening?” Emily asked. I shook my head.

“Sorry what?”

“I said Spencer told me he found someone.” she said softly. I just look at her. Why would she tell me this?

“Oh. Yay good for him.” I said softly fighting back the stinging in my eye

“Listen I have a lot of work to do so um.” I looked up at her. She nodded and told me a quick goodbye and left shutting my door. I let a few tears slip looking down at the paper. The phone rang in a matter of seconds so I wiped my eyes and picked up the phone.

“Hello this is SSA Y/L/N speaking how can I help you.” I asked.

“My son he’s missing. He hasn’t been home in twelve hours and the police won’t do anything. Please help me. He’s all I have.” the woman on the other end sobbed to me.

“Okay ma’am take a breath tell me your name and address and i will talk to my team and I’ll call you.” I answered I took her name and address and state and I got to work pulling a case together. I quickly hit print on my computer running to the files room and grabbing them along with a case file for everyone.

“We have a case.” I spoke to Hotch. He nodded and hinted his head to the conference room. I nod walking out and setting up the spots. Watching everyone walk in.

“Okay what’s up.”

“We have a missing kid in Greenville, North Carolina. He is ten and has blue eyes and blonde hair. His name is John Alexander his mom called me about an hour ago saying that he was missing and the police wouldn’t take it as a missing persons report because it hasn’t been twenty four hours yet. But they did investigate and found that there was no sign of a struggle and that there was no forced entry.” I stated, looking up from my files my eyes meeting everyones but Spencers. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

“So it could be a family member or someone he trusted?” Emily said.

“When we get there Emily, David, Morgan go to the crime scene. JJ and Spencer start on the geological profile. Y/N go talk to the family. I will start with the neighbor see if he heard anything. Wheels up in 30.” Hotch spoke. We all nod except for me and Spencer. Him reading the file and me just standing there like an idiot. I let a breath out of my nose and look at him.

“So Emily told me you found someone.” I said looking at the case file the same as he has been doing.

“Yeah.” his response was short.

“Well I’m happy for you.” I said softly looking up.

“Mhm.” short once again. I just frowned slightly, sighing, picking up the file and walking to the door.

“I’m sorry for telling you. If I would’ve known it would cause you to stop talking to me I wouldn’t have told you and I regret it everyday trust me I do.” I turn around walking to my office grabbing my to go bag walking to the jet. I take my seat on a chair as Emily sits beside me and Derek sits in front of me.

“Hey pretty girl how are you doing?”

“Could be better but what's to be expected.” I laugh slightly so does he. We all make small talk.

“So what did you say to him?” Emily questions.

“Yeah you guys did look like y'all were talking for a good minute.” JJ quipped

“Nope. I was talking and he was giving one word answers until I told him I regret telling him that I was in love with him and if I could go back in time I would. Then I left.”

“So you didn’t give him time to talk?” Morgan reposened.

“No. I didn’t want to hear what he had to say. He stopped talking to me, he didn’t answer any phone calls why would I want to hear what he has to say. He didn’t have to let it ruin the friendship. I told him if he didn’t feel the same way then to forget about it because I didn't want to lose him and guess what I did. I told him I didn’t want to lose him and yet here we are.” I spat out. JJ cleared her throat looking behind us. That’s when I knew he was standing there and that he heard everything. I roll my eyes and look out the window as we get ready to take off. We make it there within an hour and head to where Hotch had assigned us.

It’s been two days and nothing. We need to find that child the police are trying to say he’s dead. But I can feel that he's not dead. Everyone is working there hardest to find him but nothing.

“Find anything?” I ask Spencer walking into the room

“Does it look like I have,” he spat. I gasped slightly.

“Sorry.” I muttered quietly. I look at the map on the board. There were three circles on the board.

“Does he have any family or friends in this area.” I pointed to the median between the three circles. He shrugs. I let out a sigh before turning around his eyes for the first time in two months meeting mine I took a deep breath.

“Listen, throw your little hissy fit when we are not working. If I ask you a question there's a 100% possibility that I am going to need an answer. So please for the love of god quit being a dick and just talk to me when we are working after we get cases after I don’t care if you ever talk to me again.” I angrily talked to him. He sighs pointing to the map.

“There.” he points. “His cousin lives there.”

---

As we drove to the house we got our vests on and out guns ready. We all pulled up and jumped out of the car. Hotch was the first one in the house. I was the second. Sam (the cousin) was sitting in the chair with a wicked smile on his face.

“Where’s the boy?” I asked.

“In the yard.”

“No he’s not, we didn’t see him.” Derek said

“I never said he was above ground.” he smirked laughing.

“I’ll go find him.” I said they nodded as I ran out. It was dark outside but not dark enough to where I couldn’t see. My foot hit the ground as I tried to hear where the most recent dirt was dug up. Right when I think he's not there my eyes catch something. A little bit higher ground.

“I need a shovel.” I screamed loudly. Pretty soon I see the same boy I yelled at earlier come running towards me with a shovel. I thank him quietly and start to dig up the dirt until I hit something. I drop to my knees using my hands to dig the barrel out. I finally get to it.

“Help me?” I asked. He nods helping me lift it. I use the head of the shovel to pop open the barrel. I let out a loud scream dropping the shovel and backing up until I’m in someone's arms. I start crying frantically. Everyone is coming out of the house and rushing around. Everyone stops once they see him. I clung onto Spencer. He walked with me to the car sitting in it, his arms still wrapped around me. Whispering things into my ear. Everything I tried to do I couldn’t get the image out of my head.

“I told her I’d bring her back her son.” I cried softly.

“I know, but sometimes this is just part of our jobs.” he says softly. My arms wrapped around his torso as he hugged me tightly. He grips my shirt tightly. Afraid if he lets go. He will lose you again. Hotch gets in the car and Spencer lets go putting his seat belt on. I do the same but at that moment he puts his hand on my thigh softly squeezing it. I put my hand on top looking down at it. I’m still madly in love with this boy. My head started to hurt so for a second I rested my head on the window looking out before feeling my eyes fall and I’m falling asleep.

“Hey wake up.” I heard his voice softly say. I shake awake looking around and yawning. I open my door getting out before remembering the events of the night. I walk into the police office seeing John's mom rushing towards me. I prepare myself to tell her.

“Where is he? Where’s my boy.” she frantically asked.

“I’m so sorry to tell you this but he was found dead at the site.” I said softly.

“You promised me you’d bring him home alive.” she thrown out angrily

“You promised.” then I felt a cold palm against my skin and my face turned red slightly.

“Ma’am I know this is rough.”

“No you don’t know anything. Are you a mother?”

“No.” I said softly

“Then shut the hell up. You have no clue what you are talking about.” she spat.

“Ma’am I know this is a tough moment for you but don’t you dare land your hand on my agents again.” Hotch told her. I just stood there in shock. I felt someone's hand on my back.

“Come on Y/N let’s go home.” His voice is soft. One of the first times I’ve heard it since that night. We all get in cars heading back to the jet. Everyone lets out sighs when we get on no one really saying a word. As we get ready to take off I feel someone sit beside me.

“Spence.” I called out his name as I walked through the apartment that belonged to him.

“In here.” he called out from his bathroom. As I approached the door I got more and more nervous. I walk in to see him sitting on the counter sink with sweatpants on and nothing else.

“What are you doing.” I stifle a laugh walking further into the bathroom and walking into his open arms.

“I don’t know. I’m relaxing.” he said softly into my hair. I run my fingers up and down his back hearing him release a sigh. You can do this just tell him.

“Spence, can we talk.” I ask from in his chest.

“Of course we can. You know that.”

“I’m afraid to tell you. I don’t want you to hate me and I certainly don’t want it to ruin the friendship.” I said softly. He pulled away lifting my head up with both of his hands so we were making eye contact now. As an instinct my eyes darted from his eyes to his lips and back to his eyes.

“I love you.” I said.

“I love you too.” he laughs.

“No Spence I love you.”

“Oh.”

That was all he said his hands dropped to his lap and he just stared at me.

I look over to him.

“I regret not saying anything.” he spoke.

“Huh?”

“When you told me you loved me. I regretted letting you walk out the door. I was just shocked and I guess I didn't want to admit my feelings so I pushed them aside and just ignored you. I’m so sorry.” he said a tear ran down his cheek and before I could say anything I was wiping it off his face and holding his cheek with my palm.

“But, I want you to know that I love you too. I have since the first day I met you. You changed my life.”

“What about that girl.”

“I just told Emily that so she’d let me be about us.” he says. His hand moving up to cover mine on his cheek.

“I love you Y/N Y/L/N.” he said softly, kissing my palm.

“I love you Spencer Reid.” and with that I kissed him softly.

“About damn time.” I heard Morgan say. I sit back in my seat and rest my head on his shoulder laughing.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer #arron hotchner #Penelope Garcia #derek morgan #Jenifer Jareau #emily prentiss #CRIMINAL MINDS FANDOM #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #25 days of ficmas #Criminal Minds

234 notes · View notes

hey-hamlet · 3 years

Text

BNHA AU Ideas - UA High School Host Club

In honour of Ouran’s second season after an eon of nothing, I present to you: a BNHA Ouran AU. Girls and boys in this club because it was more fun that way, not really a focus on romance, more an unending comedy of teenagers being stupid and having fun.

Tamaki - Shouto

Here Shouto, while being the third son, is his father’s chosen heir to their private security company. Shouto’s rebellion was to be extra and flamboyant, casting off his father’s insistence that he be the perfect son. He’s very much gay but he plays any part for the host club - leaning into his sexuality rather than out of it is party a - rather successful - attempt to piss off his father.

He’s far more socialized than his canon counterpart, and while his father is still a dick he's more distant with impossibly high expectations with a nice dash of emotional abuse.

Second Year

Kyoya - Momo

Momo is the youngest child of three in her family, always told she didn’t need to be smart because her destiny was to be married to a rich man and make her family proud. Shouto told her that was stupid and that she had better business sense than anyone he’d ever met and that he’d offer her a place at his company if he didn’t think she’d do better running her own. They run the host club together for fun, and for a way for Momo to flex her business muscle.

Second Year

Huni - Ochako

She’s rich because she deserves it, only child and heiress to a very successful construction company. Don’t let her cute looks fool you, she's been hanging with tradies her whole life and she can swear like a sailor and benchpress the whole club. Her family has close ties to Tenya’s and he’s basically been her bodyguard their whole life - less because she's incapable, more because she looks cute and Tenya has always been built like a tank.

Third Year, but she looks like a middle schooler

Mori - Tenya

Loves his older brother, second son of a massive transport company. His family quietly really wants him to marry Ochako, less because its good business (even though it is) and more because she's the only person who has ever been able to make him loosen up. He’s built like a quarterback and no one understands why. Star of the track team, joined the host club because Ochako did and realised it was kinda fun. He’s very propper which a lot of people find cute!

Third Year, built like a 28-year-old with a bit of a babyface.

Twins - Kirishima and Bakugo (doing a bromance thing)

Kirishima

His parents are from old money (Yakuza. They are Yakuza) and think he’s the cutest thing ever. He joined because he was friends with Shouto and Shouto promised it’d be a riot. It has been. Also might be using the fact its a school club to use school money to buy fancy food and fun costumes but that's not the point!

First Year

Bakugo

His dad is a fashion designer and his mum is a model. He’s done a bit of both already and his looks make him popular but likes design way better. Pretends he hates the host club but secretly thrives off validation from others.

First Year

Haruhi -Izuku

Gives very few fucks about gender, most of his clothes are hand-me-downs so a lot of them are from female cousins and friends of his dad. Can’t be fussed cutting his hair so he lets it grow long so he gets mistaken for a girl a lot. Is he nonbinary? Probably! He hasn’t worked that out yet though, but he likes girls and boy’s clothes well enough and he doesn’t care what gender he gets called.

Gifted in school but bullied pretty bad in middle school, he went for a scholarship to a fancy private school and got in on flying colours. The bullying isn’t nearly as bad as it was in middle school because the school is paid enough to actually care about its students. Still, entrance exams were expensive and he doesn’t have enough money yet to buy a uniform. Surely That Won't CauSe Any ProBlems.

His dad is Yagi Toshinori, an old police officer. His wife Inko passed away and he was horribly injured in a car accident. He had to take a long time off work to recover physically and emotionally and while money was tight before it got really tight when he wasn’t after his life passed. People say he should have just dumped Izuku because he wasn’t his biological son and he got terrifyingly angry so no one said that ever again. He can still kick your ass even if he’s skinny. He will kick your ass for the sake of his son.

Not super important, but Hatsume is Renge and Shinsou is Kasanoda! Everyone is stupid and loves Izuku, Shouto is melodramatic, Touya snaps at one point and maybe tries to kill Izuku - you know! The usual!

#bnha au #ua high school host club au #midoriya izuku #todoroki shouto #yaoyorozu momo #Iida Tenya #uraraka ochako #Kirishima Eijirou #bakugou katsuki

276 notes · View notes

ajbwasntwriting · 4 years

Text

Daughter!Reader X Negan, Reader x Daryl: Chapter 1. Darling Princess

After the sneak peak tested well I decided to post the first chapter. I have many more already written and in the making but I’ll only post them if this gets a good reaction so please if you enjoy this please heart it, reblog it, and/or reply to it. Interaction inspires.

Sucking on another cigarette the stale tobacco burned your throat in a way you would’ve been disgusted by years ago. You looked out your window down at the gate, walkers pulling at it to try and get in. It had been a couple of years since Negan took power and more than long enough for you to feel trapped. You held the smoke in your lungs, a small part of your brain wishing it would ignite inside you and let you combust, before letting it out slow and smooth. Luxuries like this were meant to last. Another luxury was the leather loveseat you were sitting on, and the black and blue mosaic coffee table your feet and ashtray were on, and the acoustic gibson on your lap.

You placed the smoke between your lips to free your hand so you could strum the strings. You were playing an old rock balled your old man had taught you what felt like a life-time ago. He didn’t teach you to play guitar but when you came back from scouts playing campfire songs he insisted on teaching you some real music. You thought back on how many of his guitar strings you broke before that Christmas he bought you your own Washburn. The strings seemed to break less when the instrument was more your size. Those memories felt so distant now. As if they belonged to another person or were part of a movie you watched. The lyrics of the tune you were playing were on the cusp of coming back to you when your door opened violently somewhere behind you.

“My dearest daughter” Negan spoke as he entered your private room. You likened his new way of talking to that of a TV presenter. Always having to keep people on their toes. You used to think it funny when you were a kid but it wasn’t part of his personality then. “What are you doing here? Dinner was half an hour ago.”

“I’m not hungry” you shot back not even turning to face him, which would have been easy since the chair sat with its side to the window, but the walkers chewing on the fence were far more interesting.

“Y/N, don’t lie to me. You said the same at breakfast.” He sauntered over. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Lucille wasn’t with him.

“Food I didn’t earn doesn’t sate my appetite” you shot back, leaning forward to put out your smoke in the ashtray. That must have stirred something within him because the next thing you know you were grabbed by your arm and dragged out of your room, the guitar hitting the ground with a sorry sound. You let him drag you without protest, knowing better.

You were pulled into a plush dining room, immaculately furnished with white cushioned chair and a long oak table, set with silver cutlery. There were five sets in total for you, your father, and three of his ‘wives’. You figured this was some sort of ‘happy family’ play he’d act out but you didn’t know who the viewer was. You? The wives? The men? Or maybe knowing you didn’t want to be here was entertainment enough.

You were shoved into a chair next to the head of the table across from Frankie. She looked comfortable while nursing her drink but you reckoned that wasn’t her first. In front of her sat a bottle of vodka, distilled on-site by worker number 12. Fat Joey was filling the bowls with soup when your father shoved your chair in. He plopped himself into the chair next to you at the head of the table.

“Now isn’t this nice. A big happy family dinner before your old man takes off tomorrow.” You didn’t dignify him with a reply, instead motioning to the bottle of vodka in front of you.

“May I have some, Frankie?” she looked at the bottle then smiled at you

“Go ahead, Princess”. You picked up the bottle and filled your glass half-way to spite her for that nickname.

“Thank you” you tried to be civil, as badly as you wanted to just walk off with the bottle, you sipped your glass instead.

You silently started the soup. The veggies were cut into large pieces. Perfect, chewing gave you a reason not to talk to the dickhead to your left. Your eyes were too buried in your soup to see the other two wives staring at you and your father who was boring holes into your head with his eyes.

“How was your day, Y/N?” Tanya perked up

“Same as yours” you replied with a mouth full of carrot and potato

Silence

“Where are you going tomorrow Negan?” Nicolle added.

“Ladies.” Your father spoke out, his tone showing his distinct lack of patience. “I’m not an idiot. I can tell that our darling daughter doesn’t want to share our company.”

“I made that obvious in my room.” Your spoon fell gracelessly into your bowl. “Why am I here?!”

He reached over and rubbed your cheek affectionately. “Because I love you. And!” he punctuated the final word by raising a finger in front of your face, a silent cue to wait. He stood up from his chair and took off out of the room and down the hall. You took this moment to talk to his wives.

“You don’t have to be nice to me,” you said before starting to shovel soup into your mouth.

“Like hell, we don't.” Frankie retorted, earning a short child from one of the others. You chuckled and swallowed the food in your mouth. You picked up your glass and gestured it at Frankie

“Take notes, Ladies. Frankie doesn’t try bullshit on me” Frankie gestured her glass back. You guessed she’d been in a similar situation, forced to get along with people because it was easier. She didn’t try to be your friend because you knew you wouldn’t appreciate it, which in a weird turn of events you appreciated.

Your father arrived back. It was now you noticed he was a lot cleaner than usual, even the signature leather jacket had left him. Now you were alarmed. In his hands was a pink box with a purple bow. He placed it in front of you and kissed the top of your head. “Happy Birthday, Y/N.”

“Is it my birthday?” you asked, not quite sure. Time had become a blur since the end of the world. You pushed your bowl away to bring the box in front of you.

“Give or take a few months. I know I’ve missed a couple what with...everything...so this will count for at least one of them.” He placed a hand on your shoulder giving it a little squeeze, your own hand finding its way on top “There’s a lot more gifts coming for my princess, don't you worry.” You couldn’t help the smile that came to you, giggling slightly. You looked up at him, seeing nothing but unconditional love being sent back your way

“Dad, it’s alright.” You smiled and turned back to your gift. The wives were now watching, captivated by this little bit of humanity at the end of it all. You gingerly opened the bow and lifted the lid off.

Inside lay a military knife, clearly hand-made on-site with a beautiful leather handle and your name carved into the side in cursive. You released a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. You picked it up, finding it fits in your hand perfectly.

“It’s beautiful” you near-whispered, watching as the candle lights hit against the metal. In a moment it was lodged in the table a mere inch from Tanya’s hand. You kicked back your chair, making your father step back, and grabbed the vodka bottle in one motion. “Now if only I had a reason to fucking use it” you spat as you stormed out of the room.

Back in your room, you sat in the corner with your head against the cold-glass window, looking down at the dead, only illuminated by the moon. You had killed so many of them before arriving at Sanctuary. Hell, you’d say you saved your old man’s ass more than he saved you...but he was a people’s person. Ruthless. But a people’s person. ‘Let me do my thing and I’ll have these assholes sucking my dick in days’.

That was a different age. Back when your father was a teacher. Back when your mother was sick. Back when your father cheated on her with anything with a pulse and she took it out on you. Back when your mother’s treatment and your father’s lifestyle drained your college fund and you had to enlist. Back when she’d attack you, both emotionally and physically, and you took it cause you knew she was in pain. Back when you had come home from a 16-month mission because her condition had worsened. Back when the world went to shit. Back when you had to put her down because your sleazeball of a father wasn’t man enough to do it. You looked down at the dead and thought, if you reached your hands through the wires...you could be back with your mom.

Your door opened slowly, heavy footsteps coming your way. There was no need to look. Only one person would enter your room without knocking. “You scared Tanya back there, Princess.” your father spoke in a low voice.

“She can take it” you croaked, a clear sign you had been crying. He kneeled down beside you. In the reflection of the window, you could see him holding out the knife.

“Please take it.” You turned around, your back now pressed to the window.

“Why?”

“You need to be able to protect yourself”

“Give me a gun then”

“No.”

“Why? Scared I’d leave.” You took a swig of your drink.

“I see you’re upset-”

“Do you?! Do you really?” you cut him short, stumbling to your feet using the window to push yourself up. “Why am I upset? Because I eat food I don’t deserve? Because you make people die for me? Because you have me trapped in a fucking tower like Repunzel or some shit!?” That earned a chuckle from him, which only served to piss you off. “I should be down there earning my bit just like everyone else.”

“Do we have to go over this again?” He sighed dramatically. He cupped your face, the knife now dangerously close to you. “You're my daughter Y/N. My darling baby girl. My precious princess”

“I was twenty-six when this shit hit, dad” you mumbled through your squished cheeks. He gave them a little loving slap.

“You're valuable to me, which means some people might want to hurt you. You eat to stay alive, people die because they’re stupid, and you live in this room on this floor so you can be kept safe.” you blew him off with a wave of your hand and an angry sigh. You pushed passed him to your bed, twirling to sit on it and start taking off your combat boots. He walked over and lodged the knife in your headboard before kneeling down to look up at you. “I have to go out for a while. Find this Rick Grimes asshole and get some payback for the fifteen men he killed at our outpost.”

A chill went up your spine “The one near the hilltop settlement” you whispered.

“That’s right.” You looked him in the eye, not noticing how your lip quivered.

“You don’t have too.” you didn’t know if it was the booze or genuine worry for human life but you found yourself begging. “We have more than enough peo-” he shushed you soothingly, his hand coming up to your cheek, rubbing soothing circles.

“Oh but you know I have too, and while I’m gone I don’t want anyone to get ideas on what they can do to you so” he nodded towards the knife. You pulled it out of the wall, looking it over before nodding, mouthing ‘okay’ and depositing it in your nightstand table. He kissed your forehead before leaving, wishing you a good night. Once again alone you took two large gulps of your drink and laid down.

Edit: For creative reasons Y/N is now 26 at the beginning of the apocalypse instead of the original 24

#daughter x negan #daughter reader #daughter reader x negan #twd negan #the walking dead negan #the walking dead #twd #twd reader insert #twd imagine #twd y/n #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #the walking dead tv #twd tv #slowburn #AJ's Negan's Daughter AU

229 notes · View notes

middleinthenight21 · 4 years

Text

Damirae 2020- Day 4

Forbidden fruit

(Inspired by Mr. and Mrs. Smith)

How has your marriage been?

Damian: Alright.

Rachel: Not so much… We are busy people, we have a job to keep and issues to resolve, it may not be going as we want, but it happens to everyone. It is normal.

He needed to know how they feel about each other. Can you summarize your partner in three words?

Rachel: Damian is ... Distant, arrogant and insufferable.

Damian: His judgment is terrible, difficult to read and is sarcastic.

How long have you been married?

Rachel: We've been three years.

Damian: Three years, eleven months and one day. That is more than three years.

This may be a question that will surprise you, but I need to know. If you would rate your sex what numbers would you give it?

Rachel: Excuse me?

Damian: What does that have to do with it?

You came to couples’ therapy; I am also a sex therapist. My diplomas are hanging on the wall, I thought you had seen them.

Rachel: Isn't it wrong to rate sexual intercourse?

Damian: It would be a 3, or a 4. What, Rachel? We have been without sex for months.

That is not a good thing, Mrs. Wayne. Let's move on to another question, are you honest with one another?

Rachel: Yes. Quit.

Damian: I am honest, but I am also a believer that not everything can be counted.

***

Damian was running late. Lying in bed she looked askance at the clock that read 3:35 AM, there was no trace of his presence and she tries to give her an excuse; Maybe he was late for his job at the company or delayed because the trip from Gotham to Jump City is long.

Their marriage may not be having a good time, but that does not make them precisely unfaithful. Rachel still loves him, he still has his heart in her hands, but she feels how the wall that separates them becomes thicker.

How long before it’s too late for apologies? because one of the two would get tired.

She wants a home, a place to call her own, but she gets an empty bed, hollow glances, and short answers. Damian could call her whenever he wanted, he would have her, but he knows it doesn't work like that, because the last time they opened their hearts to each other was to admit that this marriage was not going as they wanted and they agreed that they would work on their relationship, they would do their part.

By being late without justification, was he doing your part?

Damian had given her a beautiful house, stability, and a love match. He is an ordinary civilian, they had promised not to be left alone, but she was. Maybe she was more sincere….

Looking at his empty spot, his side of the bed has the sheets intact and a small pile of poetry books on the nightstand, she feels her heart drop to her stomach. She can't help but feel hurt with him for leaving her with the uncertainty itching inside her, her mind flies to directions she doesn't want, and everything is about to fall apart.

Her phone rings, and it's not personal.

"We need you here. Now. "

Kory's voice is clear, it sounds urgent and there is a sound of explosions in the distance. Her mind clears, she has to go help her friends now.

With a gesture she summons her uniform, her hood is over her head and his identity as a superhero takes place, he sticks the cell phone to his ear "Who attacks? "

"It is the League of Assassins."

She frowns.

And opens a portal to the area where the fight is.

***

I won't be able to go to sleep.

Family problems.

-Damian.

***

Starfire asks them to meet in the tower when the fight ends. The sun caresses the mountains dyeing the sky a pink tone, and sighs watching the message on his phone, at least, she would not have to give an explanation why she did not spend the night at home.

The battle with the League of Assassins was not so long, she had stayed in a hiding place where she could control, while the young Titans fought with the criminals, she covered the team's back. Something about this group made her uneasy, it was like walking in the dark only guided by movement, she compared them with the followers of HIV, there was no soul or feelings to manipulate, they seemed like empty bodies. It gave her the chills just remembering it.

They congregate around the central panel, where an image of a dagger sheltered in the cellars of the bank is observed, it has a transparent reddish blade and it looks sharp, along with a leather handle. At first glance it does not seem harmless, dare to say that the dagger is for decoration, that it is intended to be beautiful, but to not be used.

It is not true.

According to the investigation of the Titans, the League of Assassins is behind a dagger made of a precious stone called ´´The Blood Diamond´´, it belonged to Ra´s Al Ghul and ended up in the cellars of the Bank of Jump City, after the Dark Justice League destroyed his plans to eliminate all magical beings, at the request of the Justice League.

It is said that the blood diamond is made from the bone and cartilage of the defeated, these are cooked in an oven to the ashes, the ash is compressed and the diamond is obtained, a single cut of that gemstone could invalidate beings magical, like her.

She can't imagine how many bones it took to forge a dagger.

Heroes that their powers are born from magic would be affected by the diamond cut, most magical beings have accelerated healing abilities and with a single cut they could never heal.

Raven flinches.

Kory's gaze pierces her "We've already relocated it to our warehouses. They must know that it is imperative that it be protected from all threats. "

There is an assent, she feels the fear of Halo, that her powers of regeneration also come from magic, without them she would have died a long time ago. There is an atmosphere of uncertainty when the new members leave, it is dangerous to keep such a dangerous object in their warehouses; they had made the tower of the titans a target for the league of assassins.

"Where's Dick?" Beast Boy asks. He hadn't seen him in two weeks, as he is currently an active member of the young justice team, he is surprised at how little has changed since he was a teenager. He looks at Kory. She was not here.

The alien keeps her gaze on the screens.

"He had a private matter to solve," he answers softly.

Richard can be as reserved as Batman when he wants, but he shows more emotions and had received her with open arms when he felt lost, when he was a girl who had escaped from a hellish dimension carrying pain and suffering that she wants to bury in the deepest Deep in her being, he had helped her, given her a family and showed a way of life: Protect the innocent, but he is also an idiot, dense as a brick and emotionally hurt by a past that he cannot push aside.

She knows that Kory will not share information about Dick, she would keep his secrets, although they will beg her to open up, she wants to ask her how she is carrying him; Marriages are complicated and she did not expect a path covered in rose petals, still they make it look so easy.

"How's your husband doing, Rae?"

His eyes are on her and she can't tell them he hadn't gotten to sleep, that she ran away as soon as they contacted her to run away from an empty bed and the feeling of loneliness that was killing her. She had that whole huge house to herself in that posh neighborhood, but she felt trapped.

He wanted to go back to the moment they met on the undercover mission in that bar in Miami. Raven was on a covert mission with the Titans, they had to gather information about a merchant in the open market, and they knew that the man used to enjoy the city's nightlife.

She met him in a bar, when she entered the terrace he had looked at her, she felt him like the flames on her skin and when he leaned down to ask her to dance he did not think twice; She'd never let anyone touch her like that in one dance and she wondered what their hands would do if they shared more time together. She learned his name is Damian Wayne, the son of billionaire Bruce Wayne, she bit her tongue not to mention Dick's relationship with the millionaire, he has other things on his mind anyway. She had never moved like that against another person, but he had made her feel like a dangerous woman.

Damian had woven a web around her, but if he is a spider, then Raven is his predator.

They had moved against each other, together her hands behind his neck caressing from the nape to the waist, she was surprised to feel the muscles through the clothes and wanted more. Damian touched the contour of her torso, one of his hands slipping under the shirt circling her skin, she continued to rock to the rhythm of the song, as if his touch wasn't driving her crazy.

She brushed her lips to his neck and felt him tense up.

They were so close together that they felt each other's breath on their faces. Looking at it from the outside it was fortunate that they had been in a dark place, because it would have been uncomfortable for others.

After the dance they exchanged phones, and each left.

She was surprised when she could not stop loving him in her life, she became a hungry person for being touched, for feeling loved and every time he put a hand on her, the chills ran through her. There was a first date, a second and when she least thought she wondered which part of her he hadn't touched. Every time she was with Damian, he put her to sleep, her life had been full of missions, thinking about the innocent and stopping the sea, but she found a rest with this man.

Maybe they would have known each other better ... If everything had been slower, but they were a whirlwind of emotions and feelings.

Now she wonders what would have happened to her if she had not accepted his call a few days later, she knew something clear and that was that she had lost her mind for this man, only one dance and one look had been enough for him to decide to continue with this, as it was the first chapter of a novel and she needed to see what happened to the rest. Maybe she had thought he was a masterpiece, maybe he was made to be an adventure and not a marriage.

He finds himself returning to that summer night in Miami, wondering if there was any difference that could have been.

"He's fine." She can't tell them about the distance, the couple’s therapy they were attending, and the loneliness. "Everything is great."

Kory gives her a sympathetic look, like she knows something she, herself doesn't. For a second, her heart skips, she thinks Damian said something to his brother, but knowing her husband, she doesn't believe it.

"I haven't seen him a while," Jaime says, scratching his hair.

"He's been busy," she replies.

"Yes. "

Kory looks down, looks distant. The team leader and surrogate mother had been an important point of support in Raven's life, she thought that when she told her about her relationship with Dick's younger brother she would be happy, then everyone would be a small family, but she did not have a good or bad to comment. It was weird.

"I have an interview in ... "

"Silence, Garfield."

They exchange glances. Kory had rarely been spoken like this, only when they had something important that ...

"They're robbing us!"

The camera shows the cellars, figures dressed completely in black escape through the ventilation and run towards the cellars, Kory runs, and she follows her. Her heart is a time bomb, and she thinks how dangerous the dagger would be, he feels guilty for trusting herself.

Observing around and taking care that there were no more roaming assassins.

Starfire shoots fire at the cellar door, the door crashes to the floor, and the place is quiet. Alarms sound throughout the tower, there are red lights that prevent them from seeing normally.

"Why did you do that? " Garfield observes the destroyed door, he is transformed into a snake trying to track the intruders.

"The quarantine protocol will be activated, nobody will be able to leave or enter," Raven responds. His eyes move, she summons her powers and tries to search for the assassins; they should be trapped by the ventilation duct. "They will be trapped. "

"I have a visual! " He yells from somewhere.

Suddenly the room filled with gas, and she felt her throat close and her eyes turn glassy, it was impossible to keep them open. She tried to call her companions, but she did not hear or see anything, her hands traveled to his neck if it would clear her lungs, her head hurt, and she supported her hand against a wall.

They were trying to get out, out of the corner of her eye she saw bodies breaking the glass of a window with a piece of furniture. She stretched out her hand with difficulty, a black spider web shot out in a burst of energy and caught one of the assassins before he escaped through the broken window, the intruder gasped, fell to the ground with a loud sound, and writhed.

He was strong.

He was not going to be able to resist; he could hardly breathe ... His mouth felt dry, his throat was sandpaper and he had trouble standing up.

The killer curses and another returns, pulling so hard that he has to give in. The larger shadow burdens the laggard by wrapping his arm around his shoulders and throws himself out the window.

"No, no, no…"

By then her vision is clouded and she falls into unconsciousness.

***

Raven is angry when she wakes up, because it is 7 AM and she is still not allowed to go home. The dagger made from the blood diamond was stolen from the Titan's cellars under their own noses, Starfire paces back and forth thinking how strangers had not triggered the tower's sensitive alarm system.

The leader looks tired, she thinks it looks like when Nightwing becomes obsessed with a criminal repeating the robbery video repeatedly. If Raven hadn't had coffee, she'd already be yelling at her to stop, because she was freaking her out.

"Kory, you won't find anything. We can go to Nanda Parbat to retrieve the dagger" she offers. She takes a long drink at the coffee, holding the bitterness. "Please. "

The other members give her appreciative glances, knowing that it would be impossible for the leader to rest.

Starfire can be more stubborn than Nightwing or Damian when she wants.

Chance, Damian!

"I have to go." Raven stands up. "Damian should already be in the ... "

"Back up there!"

Garfield sighs, but heeds her. Starfire makes the image stop that shows the killer that Raven made fall to the ground, her hood had slipped off her head, but the image is blurred and is only a black stain, she orders the image to be clarified and brought closer to her face .

Raven comes up carrying her coffee, now interested in the results, but he's just a pixelated face. It does not prove anything.

"I'll clarify the image again."

Now there is the computer charging. Starfire twists her hands, at least she is going to have a goal, Raven is happy because at least they would have a face that could be guided, it is better than being guided only in assumptions and in paranoia.

When the face appears on the screen, she holds her breath and the cup almost falls from her hands ...

Damian Wayne's face appears on the screen like a red flag, and the whole room stops, like paralyzed.

***

Are you waiting for me for breakfast? -Rachel.

Yes- Damian.

***

"Did they bring the dagger?"

Richard leaves the dagger in Batman’s possession. He doesn't like the idea of having to rob the young Titans, after all, they were his team and he has personal attachments with members, he doesn't want to hurt them. They are also heroes.

Damian understands his father, knows how the assassin's league operates. They would soon attack the tower without caring if there were teenagers who depend on the team and the news of the infiltration of strangers would spread faster, that Batman had asked to keep the weapon. The Batcave had been compromised before and his father was not trusting, so he ordered them to infiltrate, pretend to be part of the Shadow League, thus diverting the attention of the young Titans.

He takes off his boots, finding a bruise around his ankle, he growls, "That witch girl."

"Something happened? " His father narrows his eyes.

"Nothing. "

"Raven attacked Robin," says Dick.

"Try to pretend you're not proud."

Richard smiles.

Batman growls and heads to the bat computer, entering a code that gives him access to the tower cameras a few hours ago. The security guard leans over the screens looking at the images frame by frame, Damian looks away in response to his wife's message and crosses his arms.

He's not interested in anything to do with the young Titans, so infiltrating the tower isn't a problem for him, but he hadn't expected Raven to have intercepted him. The smoke they used to neutralize the Titans was medium intensity, but the heroin had withstood it.

He growls when his foot hits the floor, he will have to justify to his wife the bruise on his ankle.

"I have to go, father."

"Damian, come here." Dick gives him a worried look. His father's back is to him, he's bent over the bat computer. "You’ve got to see this. "

"Bruce ... "

Damian approaches the screen and is surprised.

***

Both arrive at the same time. Raven squeezes her hands on the wheel, she has a grocery bag next to her on the passenger seat, and her head is a tangle of emotions; she had taken care of her whole life so that the feelings did not overwhelm her, a part of herself was always contained, but this time she wanted to scream and pull her hair.

Damian had lied to her. He entered the tower of the Titans, stole a dagger that could surely affect her in the name of the League of Shadows. She had lived with a murderer the past two years.

She feels betrayed, although that sounds hypocritical because she also hid her identity as a heroine; her mind fights with her, half reminds her of guilt and the other shouts at her to run.

No, she needs to stop him.

She taps her fingers on the steering wheel, waiting until he pulls up and tries to remember Starfire's words: I’m sorry, Raven. We have to know where the dagger is. We need to know if he is working for the League of Shadows.

He opened the car door, his black jaguar had been a wedding gift from his father and when Damian walks into the house, there is a frown on his face that only appears when something is bothering him, but it is like a shadow and disappears instantly. Titus makes his way through the front yard, jumps on the grass, and his tail wags, excited to see his master.

Damian caresses the Great Dane and now there is a small smile on his lips.

She looks away, reminding herself that he can be an enemy, but the man she lives with every day has never made a single move to hurt her, he did not behave like an assassin would. Perhaps she is underestimating him, her mother spoke as she had been taught by her demonic father, at first, he had shown himself as a desirable man, the one they write in novels, but her is far from being so.

Not everything is as they paint it.

When she gets out of the car and looks at her own house, she did not expect her heart to squeeze in her chest, they had looked for this house in the suburbs of Jump City, decorated it and dreamed of a future together, Raven had fallen in love with normality. Choosing a carpet for the living room, worrying about repairing the leak that wet the floor in the hallway and the quiet dinners, but it had been too silly.

Her old anger turned into a nostalgia that threatens to eat her up inside.

As much as she thinks he lied to her, that they were built from a web of falsehood, she still loved him.

He was looking at her from a few meters away, she gave a greeting and carried the supermarket bags ready to prepare breakfast.

Titus follows her into the house, she can feel Damian's eyes on her body, and decides to ignore it.

Raven walks to the kitchen, places the bag on the counter and strokes Alfred, the cat rubs himself on her legs, she swears she has never seen a cat this big; he is so fed that his belly is like a balloon.

"You bought strawberries," Damian says.

She puts on a kitchen apron, brews hot water in a kettle, and leaves two cups on the counter.

She sits on the stool, Damian is now chopping the strawberries and the knife in his hands is small, she almost gulps when she sees the instrument and remains alert.

"How did it go last night? "

The cuts are now louder "well, how did it go for you? "

They looked at each other and she knows those eyes, it's like he was going through her, wanting to see beyond appearances. Damian had rarely looked at her this way, it was when he knew she was hiding something from him and that she would not admit it unless he pushed her.

A panic button is activated inside her. He couldn't know, how? It is impossible.

"I was waiting for you all night."

His muscles relax and he looks up, the lines of expression on his face are neutral.

"Sure." Cut half a strawberry. "You always get up very early" emphasized the word "very".

Raven looks at him.

Damian looks at her.

The atmosphere feels tense, it is as if an electric current dances through the oxygen ready to ignite everything in a short circuit and she finds herself standing up to store each of the groceries, prefers to focus her attention on something more productive than having a fight of looks.

"You must be tired; it would do you good to rest" she gets a box of tea and sugar.

Damian keeps his eyes on the fruit "I'm not tired. "

Why was everything so difficult? It is she who should be angrier, if it were not so complex perhaps this marriage would go for better ways, perhaps she would have been sincere before and would have already revealed her true identity, so they can save this shit.

He can't be acting like she's the one who made a mistake, he's surely a murderer!

She can no longer bear this silence. Raven is in charge of putting on music, does not care what it is and leans against a piece of furniture. He may be a dangerous person, but she is too, and she would get the location of that dagger made from the red diamond and save the day.

If he can lie, then Raven too.

"Of course not, my dear."

Damian frowns and the knife stops, as if suspended in midair. They are not a sentimental couple, the number of times they have been named affectionately are few, they were always formal.

She turns to look into his eyes. She never used her powers over her husband, she knows that they share a bond, her soul had intertwined, but she did not dare to see further; now it could be different.

"I am a strong man," he pauses. He slides the fruit into a bowl with the flick of his knife, setting it aside, "my dear."

She raised an eyebrow.

The music and their pets are the only thing that is moving, the melody is jazz, and it feels very different from the energy in this room. Raven rests her hands on the counter, inches from Damian's knife and her hands, if she made a single movement, she could change the atmosphere in a second.

She is more interested in concentrating on the color of her husband's eyes, since it would be easier for her to use her powers on him, if he was lucky she would hardly notice it, she only needs to go into his mind to return to the moment he infiltrated the tower and find out where the dagger is located.

Damian smiles and of course she has seen that smile on his stupid face before.

He puts a hand on top of hers. "Do you think I'm a fool?"

Had he noticed?

The line hints that he is angry, yet the smile lingers on his lips and his hand glides to her forearm gently stroking his fingertips against the skin. Raven feels as if a chill ran down her back to her feet, and this shouldn't be happening.

She has work to do.

"I would never think that."

He narrows his eyes, abandons the touch and she think that he is going to move away, however, he walks to her side, looks her in the eye. She holds her breath, her hormones appear out of nowhere, and this is a bad time for her body to remind her that they haven't touched in months.

Damian does nothing, burns her with his gaze and can't think of anything else to where this scene can end.

It is she who first leans over, stands on tiptoe and places a kiss against his lower lip, it’s soft and subtly feels proper. He shouldn't slide so simply, he still has to answer the Titans, even after all his criticism of their bad judgment, he was still wrong.

Damian caresses her neck and his hands are familiar, safe.

Her interior cries.

How can she live without this? How can she be with someone who she thinks they belong to be part of such a dangerous organization? She is the daughter of an intergalactic demon, a conqueror of worlds, a genocide, she is no one to judge the past or the life of another person, she curses her own bad luck for getting involved with someone dangerous.

Damian knows how to play in the right places, knows her weak points, her erogenous zones, slides a hand under her shirt right on his hip, her hand remains in circles and she is sighing against his lips.

Raven caresses his torso, from the hips to his heart, her hand remains on the organ and she feels his heartbeat, kisses him so hard that he stumbles and one of hid hands wraps around her waist raising her a few centimeters. Now they are face to face.

He kisses her back with the same intensity, caresses her hair and pulls her ponytail leaving loose on her back. Raven growls but is silenced when he meets her lips again and now it's like a fight.

She remembers the moment when she realized that she could live her whole life with Damian, when the lights had adorned the city at night, and they met for dinner at his apartment in Gotham. They had only known each other for two months and she had escaped in a portal at night just to see him, because a voice she did not know begged her because she wanted to have more of him.

He has the look of a bad boy, an arrogant posture, full of pridefulness, at first glance the type of man you do not want to run into because he will steal your heart without a drop of remorse. He will run away with your heart in his hands and he will throw it away, but he thinks she is a generous soul, she believes that Damian Wayne can be a beautiful person, difficult to find, one of those who prefers actions to words.

Everything is going so well that it scares her too much, but she doesn't want to run away. She thinks how difficult it is to maintain a relationship with her other identities, the dangers and death that surround them, she really wants to be honest and tell her story, but it would also be something harmful for someone with Damian Wayne, son of a billionaire, who has had stability all his life (Later she would find out that he did not always have a privileged life). She would screw it up and she doesn't want to.

They had been talking about Oliver Twist, oriental spices and new tea that she wants to try while drinking wine in glasses. This is comfortable, she could feed on his company alone, she would be happy; her life had not been fun, she thought that her twenty-one years was beyond her expectations, but she found himself wishing for this.

He now holds a glass of wine in his hand, sitting on the couch with his eyes fixed on the city lights, she thinks she has not seen anyone more beautiful.

What?

She smiles "I'm in love with you. "

Damian raises an eyebrow, leaves the wine glass on the table, and smiles at her. "Me too."

Raven feels something melt in her heart. It would never be the same.

She walks towards the sofa where he is, sits on his lap and Damian surrounds her waist interlacing his hands on her waist, they press their bodies together and Raven rests her head on his chest, contemplating the set of buildings that make up the city.

Her heart feels full.

She looks him in the eyes "Hello, stranger," Raven says with a small glance, it is as if they were looking at each other for the first time, she remembers that stranger in the bar who had tied her up with just a dance.

Damian smiles.

Raven remembers that moment.

Now everything has changed, they have been married for years with a commitment that was breaking in front of their eyes, perhaps if they had been more honest with each other, but still taking her breath away when looking at him, Damian's kisses make her feel that others do not compare with him.

They are kissing in the kitchen without caring about the sound from the outside. Raven can melt right now, stroking his short hair through her fingers and pulling, wanting them to pressed closed together even more.

Lust fills the room with a carmine red color. Many had thought of passion and lust is a fiery red, like anger, but it is carmine like the shade of blood, just as dangerous.

Suddenly they are struggling to remove the other's clothes, pulling so hard that they pull buttons, new threads form and when she struggles with his shirt. She feels like he growls when he feels the pinch of a nail on his skin, but only pushes him to want to kiss her with more strength.

"I know about you," Damian growls between kisses. His palms run over her collarbone, between her breasts and down to the base of her stomach, he stops there as if he was mocking her. "I know who you are. "

What?!

Raven gives him a push, putting distance between their bodies, as if she wanted to establish distance. She needs distance, she knows that the sight of their bodies could be tempting, so she struggles to focus on what is important and not on his bare torso, his skin is golden and strong. He had recently kissed her mouth and tried to touch every part of her body.

They gasp for air.

Raven's skirt is torn, he had made a cut at the waist and now she has to hold it so that it falls to the ground, the shirt she had worn is open revealing a bodice made of lace. It is a disaster; they are a disaster.

"How do you know that?"

Damian frowns "I saw you. My father reviewed the recordings, as I think the Titans did. "

"Your father? "

"Batman."

He is not a murderer, but the son of Batman, how ...

"My father wanted the dagger made of the blood diamond. He needed to trick the Titans into not becoming a target for the league."

She is not surprised by Batman, he is always one step ahead of the other heroes, playing their battles and establishing plans that would make them pawns with a one-piece move.

Her father-in-law is Batman.

"He could have asked us for the dagger."

A smile glides over his lips. "Where would the fun be in that, Raven?"

His voice takes on a dangerous tone, it is like an animal preparing to attack its prey from the unknown, but she does not intend to fall for this. This day started in a strange way, she could pray to Azarath for normality to return to her life, but was it ever?

The world is a small place, of all the men that she could have ended up with, she chose the son of Bruce Wayne, who also acts as a vigilante. She should have known.

She is glad that the dagger is in the hands of Batman, she is glad that he is not a murderer, but she still feels that they have to fill empty spaces in her story.

If only the mind will not travel to dangerous places, perhaps they could have a moment to confess, they would take their time to explain their story and listen, but their imagination is like a closed room, it cannot escape.

He extends his hand caressing her cheek, traces the line of her lips with his thumb and is looking directly into her eyes, they look as if they have just met. She returns to that apartment in Gotham City when they behave like two heated teenagers for maintaining physical and emotional contact for the other. His eyes had been like jade, shiny and new, the color of hope and life, it represented a new beginning and she had thought that he had bewitched her because every time he gave her a look, she felt that he has her in his hands.

At what point had they cooled down?

She runs her hands on his shoulders, she feels like he relaxes instantly. She leaves a palm over his heart; it still beats with the same intensity.

They look into each other's eyes "Hello, stranger. "

Damian raises his eyebrows recognizing that phrase and captures her lips in a deep kiss, pressing hard on her lips.

She was getting lost; they could set the end of the world and she would only care about holding this moment together with Damian. Holding him in her arms and kissing his lips is her vice, he would not leave him for anything.

Hours later they are crammed on the sofa, Raven is wearing a shirt that she had found in the closet, it is not hers, she had been too lazy to dress in her own clothes and they decide to spend the afternoon lying down ordering food at home and they eat from the leftovers of the breakfast strawberries.

It touches her lips, it is something subtle, almost accidental, but she gets his full attention and rolls her eyes because she feels Damian is like the forbidden fruit to her. Every time he feels that she perceives herself as a dangerous woman, he would never get bored of this and he is willing If he break the rules, he can't resist Raven's touch.

He doesn't care what his father has to say.

She doesn't care what the Titans say.

#damirae week 2020 #damirae week #damirae #demonbirds #Damian Wayne #raven #rachel roth #damian x raven #DC animated universe

69 notes · View notes

starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Two Drops of Rain.”

Alright you pseudo-sadistic people out there.

Lets be honest, we all sort of like watching authors emotionally torture their own characters, and lets also be honest that authors can sometimes be super mean to their creations.

Well I have decided that, in my universe, actions have real psychological, emotional and physical consequences. So, I am going to have to be the bad guy and be a little mean for this one.

Expect character development, and light suffering.

A droplet of rain clung to the glass of the window reflecting an inverted view of the sullen grey sky. It hung suspended there for a few seconds, capturing a moment in its surface, before rupturing and rolling downward disrupting other droplets and causing them to bleed downwards. The rain was heavy enough that the grassy compound outside was covered by a layer of grey. Water droplets lept from the concrete creating a silver haze about the ground, and anything past the distant shadow of buildings on the other side of the square was nothing more than a silhouette perhaps a lamp post, or a lone car hunched in the rain.

He raised his hand to the glass, the warmth of his fingers casting a delicate glaze of fog over the transparent surface before his fingers even made contact.

“Adam.”

He tilted his head back watching as a pair of droplets began to roll down the outside of the glass. He watched them intently wondering which one of them would win. At first it seemed like the droplet on the left would, but ultimately it’s speed caused it to lose too much weight, and it got stuck halfway to the ground.

“Adam.”

He turned away from the window distracted from his daydreams and brought back to current reality; A white cinder block room, with industrial grey carpet and modern grey furniture accented in blue. Large tropical prints hung on one side of the room fake and grey in the cold light of early spring. A large desk sat opposite cheep steel and wood crouched under an equally cheap set of metal shelving units supporting long lines of fake, leather-bound volumes letters printed in minute gold or silver script up their spines.

The entire right wall was made up of floor to ceiling glass windows allowing in the thin dreary light cast through the clouds above. On the desk a small glass orb contained a self sustaining biome including a colorful pink sea plant and a single shrimp-like creature. Next to that was a family photograph lovingly dusted of grime, but somehow equally lifeless as the tropical prints on the wall.

A large green plant sat next to him.

It was real, he had already checked.

“Adam?

“Hmm.”

“I was asking if you had been feeling better since our last session?” The woman who sat in front of him was older, with short steel-grey hair, and a delicate pink white scar running over one of her eyes across valleys of sagging skin. Despite that, she was quite fit for her age, and sat with a hard straight-back demeanor that belied her surprisingly gentle manner.

“I….” He paused looking out the window again trying to track single raindrops as they pelted towards the ground and failing. He sighed, “Not really, no.”

“Do you think you can try and tell me what’s bothering you?” He could hear the rain pounding against the bushes outside the window. It was a distant sound like static or the roaring of a crowd.

“I wish I could.” The chair below him creaked slightly. It wasn’t exactly comfortable;industrial and hard, but he didn’t mind that so much. He wasn’t here to be comfortable; he had come here to get help.

“You mentioned before that you were having trouble sleeping, trouble concentrating, and that was affecting your work. Is it still?”

He shifted in his seat, and below him, Waffles, his dog, rolled onto her other side service vest creaking slightly as she sighed, “No ... the sleeping isn’t much better, and I think I’ve made it pretty clear that my concentration is still shot.” He tried pointedly to look away from the window.

The rain picked up a little, “And what exactly is it that you think about during those times.” She wondered

He thought for a minute, “Nothing mostly. Sort of just on autopilot you know…. It’s easier there, like I don’t have to think so much.”

Her shiny black shoe bounced softly in the air, “So thinking has been difficult, or do you find yourself thinking about something specific that you’re trying to avoid.”

He rubbed a hand against his temple, “I… a little bit of both I guess. Um… Its like every time I try to think about something, something I really need to think about. My thoughts just keep coming back to…. To what happened.”

She tilted her head slightly focused, intently, but no so intently as to be uncomfortable, on him, “You have yet to talk about what happened.”

He remained silent.

“You don’t have to say anything today if you aren’t ready, but I think it's important, and I think you think it’s important, otherwise we wouldn’t be seeing these obsessive sort of thoughts.” her hands swirled to emphasise the repetitive nature. A silver ring glinted on her finger.

“I guess I’ve just been…. Trying to figure things out…... “

“Don’t feel obligated to push yourself. We can wait as long as you need.” A clock ticked on the wall above her desk filling the silence.. It seemed as if it would go on forever.

“I watched a man get beaten to death, and did nothing to stop it…..” His voice was sudden filling the silence of the room with a sudden heavy weight. His heartbeat picked up as if saying the words made the reality more tangible, but now it was out in the air, he found the words sliding from his mouth easy where they had once been halting, “I watched a man die…. I knew he was going to die….. I knew hours in advice hell eighteen maybe nineteen hours. At any time I could have gotten up and walked over to the guards and told them what was going to happen, but I didn’t. I could have gone to his cell and warned him, I could have told him to run when he entered the room. Hell, I could have jumped in front of him, but I didn’t do any of it.” HIs voice had risen in cadence and octaves filling the space with it’s agitation. At his feet, Waffles sat up sensing his unease turning her head to look at him, “But you know what…. You know what I did, I sat there and did NOTHING, in fact I did worse than nothing. He’s no friend of mine, that’s what I said. I looked him in the eye and that’s what I said knowing what was going to happen to him. Like an absolute BITC-.”

“Why.” her voice was stern, and the expression on her face made it very clear he was escalating out of line. He relaxed back into his seat breathing hard. His heart hammered inside his head drowning out the sound of the rain.

“Why what?”

“Why do you think you didn’t do those things.” Waffles whimpered a bit sticking her head in his lap. He hadn’t even noticed that he was ringing his hands, a habit that he had acquired after losing his leg. It generally didn’t go past that, but once upon a time it had been a precursor to hair pulling, something that Waffles had been trained to stop.

“Because I’m A B-”

“Adam.” She said sternly, “A decision is a matter of cognition, not of a personality trait. So let’s be a little more constructive. Tell me what you were thinking.”

He sighed deeply in frustration, glancing out the window again. He couldn’t even see the light post or the car from earlier. The bushes outside the window jumped and rattled rather violently under the downpour, “At first I…. I felt sick…. I wished I was anywhere but there, I wondered if it was actually real….. I wondered why this was happening to me, and how I could make this sort of decision….. And then. After all that I was, I was ...”

She waited, but when no answer was forthcoming she prodded gently, “You were….”

“Angry…. No, no angry isn’t strong enough. I was livid, furious… i….” He felt his throat constrict, “I wanted to…. I wanted.” His voice cracked and he looked away. Tears had sprung to his eyes, and he furiously tried to blink them back angry at himself. Waffles whimpered and scooted forward against his legs resting her big soft head in his lap large brown eyes looking up at him with a deep unwavering concern not understanding his pain but begging to take it away, “ I wanted to Kill him.” He finally finished voice barely above a whisper, “I have never wanted anything so bad in my life, I wanted to go down there myself and strangle the life out of him. I thought about…. About bashing his head against the concrete. I wondered what it would be like to feel his skull caving in under my hands….” He went quiet, “Disgusting.”

“Adam,” her voice was soft but firm, “ in all my years of working, I have heard people want to do a lot more for a lot less, but why don’t you tell me why you felt that way.”

Waffles shoved her snout against his hand. He had been rubbing his chest, another habit he had as a result of PTSD, a condition long dormant now resurfacing, “Number one because he was a pedophile, number two because he was a liar, number three because I know for a fact he planned on going back to his old life after getting out. He had no remorse….. He deserved to die.”

“If that’s the case than he got what he deserved didn’t he?” She wondered tilting her head to the side.

He shook his head vigorously then nodded then sighed in frustration, “yes… I…. i mean no….. No one deserves to die like…. Like that, but ...I mean maybe he did, but that wasn’t their choice to make.” He finally blurted

“So, he deserved to die, but he deserved to die as a result of justice, and not as a result of a prison riot.” The rain had died down just a bit. Distantly a momentary beam of sunlight peeked through the clouds before vanishing once again.

Adam sighed, “YES! That's it…. The justice system is supposed to take care of this, but it didn't ...”

“Then why do you feel responsible if it was the justice systems’ job?”

He stroked Waffle’s ears foot tapping in agitation, “I…. well because I AM the justice system. Not like to be a dick or brag, but out in space, I am the arm of the UNSC, Fleet commander. It is my job to deal with human issues offworld, so when the justice system fails it's MY duty to fix it. My job, my objective ...”

“So it was your job to save this man’s life so he could be properly punished?”

“Well, yes.” he rocked in his seat again, agitated, “But I didn’t. I sat there and I did nothing, and you know what. I LIKED it, a part of me enjoyed watching that bastard die. He deserved it…..” A sudden stab of guilt shot through him, and he groaned rocking softly as he lifted his head to the ceiling eyes catching onto porous surface of the panels above. His eyes burned. His voice began to crack again, “But, but then, then when I remember feeling bad for him, and it just makes me feel WORSE because he hurt kids, he was a monster, and I have pity for him! SO does that mean I’m siding with a pedophile? So…. so it was either give in and kill him with the rest of them like he deserved treat him like the monster he is…. Or or I could stand to the side and absolve myself of the murder, but do nothing and still have his blood on my hands, but also have the knowledge that I showed that disgusting fuck mercy when he didn’t deserve it. Either way I…..” His voice caught. He could feel his stomach contracting into a sob, but he forced it down head in his hands.

The room went silent, and waffles jammed her head in between his hands forcing him to quit as his hands sought out fistfuls of hair. His chest and diaphragm contracted and released but he clenched his teeth and shut his eyes. He wouldn’t cry here…. He had been weak enough.

It took a long time before he was finally able to control himself and sit back up. He had gone very hot, and could feel waves of heat wash over him from the effort .

When he looked up he found a glass of water being proffered to him, and he took unable to look at her.

“Adam, it is horrible that you had to make that decision. You have to understand that no matter what you did in that situation would have resulted in the same outcome.” He may have gotten control of his breathing, but he had worn far to thin, far to thin in the intervening weeks. He pointedly looked away feeling hot tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

His face remained blank.

“You join in, you’ve committed murder, you stand out, and you’ve let a man die, you run to the guards and you protect a pedophile. There was no decision you could have made that would have resulted in a desirable outcome… Tell me, Adam, Do you really think that anything you could have done would have saved that man’s life?”

He wasn’t able to stop it as a hot tear spilled down the side of his face. He kept his head turned only halfway towards her so as to hide the moisture. He rested his head against his hand so as to discreetly wipe it away, “No …” he finally admitted.

“Go through that with me.”

More tears. He fought desperately to keep the one eye dry as moisture pooled against his hand.

“Because I couldn’t have fought them all off even if I had tried, and the guards would have just let it happen anyway, but I could hav-”

“Could have what? Adam, you did what you could. You stood back to the hazard of your own health so as not to be part of something you didn’t believe in. You couldn’t stop it, and you couldn’t walk away, and that in itself is more than what a lot of people could, or would have done. A lot of people would have joined in to save their own skin.” It had grown darker outside, and he could see his reflection in the glass of the window. His black eye had long since faded but, Krill still urged him to rest as a result of bruising to his right kidney. At least he had only peed blood the one time.

“But I ... that's not, not the problem.” He shifted in his seat, and the dog scooted closer again, “I wanted to do those things, I wanted to join in, I couldn’t stop them.” His voice was growing in pitch again, and as it did the tears only flowed faster. They began to trickle down his forearm, and soon his other eye was overcome. He tried to wipe them away, but they wouldn’t stop. He was fighting a losing battle, and that only made him angier, and that only made the tears worse “Every d-damn t-time I fuck up…. I…. I-I'm weak and useless an-n-nd-” he snarled in frustration embarrassed and unable to look her in the eye, “I s-screw up so m-much, childish, o-over e-em-motional like a stupid, w-winey t-trusting-”

“Adam.”

“B-bit-”

“Adam!” Her voice cut through his rant leaving his silent. He turned away from her no longer able to control himself embarrassed. He just wanted to leave to never have to show his face to anyone ever again.

“First of all we are going to stop that sort of talk right now. It’s pointless, meaningless and it will get us nowhere. Now, do me a favor and take a few deep breaths and calm yourself. Finish the glass of water.”

He did as told still not looking at her. Waffles licked at the tears on his hands so eager to help him wash away the evidence. He finished off the water which helped a little to calm his diaphragm. He took a long slow, shaky breath.

“Would you like to continue this session another time?” She asked, “I can see this is hard?”

He shook his head stubbornly though he still couldn't look at her.

She sat back in her seat accepting his go ahead “Second of all, whose standards are you holding yourself to.. Who expects such impossible perfection, honestly if you expected any more from yourself, you may as well wish to walk on water too.” He allowed a rueful smile to break through on that last part though it was half hearted.

“Where are you getting these grand ideas of what you have to be?”

He leaned his elbows on his knees and stared down at the floor rubbing the back of his palm over his face. The eyepatch felt sort of cold and slimy now…. He was a mess.

“I…. Guess I don’t know.” He said softly.

“Your parents, family, crew members? How have they been acting towards you?”

He shrugged, “All surprisingly supportive…. Too supportive.” Waffles poked her head up under his arms resting her head against the side of his face scooting forward knowing he was upset desperate to make it go away. Her tail beat against the floor once and then twice.

“Too supportive. How can they be too supportive.”

He paused mouth opening and closing in confusion before sighing in frustration dropping his head; the one eye began to leak again, stupid missing eye which still had tear ducts, “I guess it just feels like…. They all expected me to…. Fall apart, and I did. Its like they understand that poor little Adam Vir wasn’t going to be able to handle what happened, so lets walk on eggshells so as not to upset him.” his voice was growing thick again. Ever time he broke, the edge got closer, and there was no way to hold it back.

“And what’s so wrong with letting yourself fall apart? Sometimes it happens, sometimes it needs to happen.”

He was back to where he was before, accept the tears fell silently now his voice remaining surprisingly calm, “Because it’s weak.”

“That’s a pretty antiquated understanding of emotion. Sounds like something a man from the 2000s would say.”

He said nothing, “Who do you model yourself after, Adam?

He sighed, “My father, I guess, Captain Kelly, my mother, my older brothers…. I guess maybe a little bit from…..movies.”

Her voice was soft, “Sounds like a lot to live up to doesn't it, and let's be honest. Not all of it is entirely true to life.” On the far wall the clock ticked, “You ask me that sounds pretty exhausting.” A distant rumble of thunder rolled across the open lawn. Wind picked up causing the leaves on the bushes to dance.

“Do you think maybe you feel the way you do because it seems you can't live up to the expectations you set for yourself?”

He remained quiet.

“Weak liable to break or give way under pressure; easily damaged.” She read aloud, “Now I find it interesting how a man who claims to be weak walks into my office on the coattails of a trauma and, instead of talking about the trauma he talks about his moral dilemma. He doesn't complain, he doesn't blame. He takes the weight of responsibility for an entire universe on his shoulders.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit late for platitudes, doc.” he muttered staring down at his hands.

“Not platitudes, Adam. Observations.” She switched her crossed ankles, “So we know you aren't weak, and you can probably tell me why you aren't useless.” A car’s headlights cut through the rain illuminating a burst of light over the edge of the leaves. When she didn’t speak he sighed.

“I’m not useless because I command an entire fleet of ships, I was a decorated fighter pilot, I do all these things etc.etc.” His voice was flat and monotone. Another slow tear dropped to the floor creating a dark circle on the grey carpet. He knew what was coming next, so he continued, “I’m not stupid or winy or a bitch, but…. I DO make lots of mistakes, I am childish, to trusting and over emotional.”

“What mistakes?”

He wiped at his eyes again. Waffles whimpered quietly her head on his knee, “Well, I’ve been cheated by a Tesraki, almost got my crew killed, Trusted an enemy and almost got my crew killed, trusted a strange alien species and almost got my crew killed, lost my eye and almost died, got captured more times than I can count, almost died more times than I can count.”

The rain was coming down in sheets again. The drops which had once dotted the window now ran down in curtains, “Adam, Trust isn’t a weakness, and mistakes don’t correlate to failure. You are dealing with an entirely new species, new problems. If you didn’t make those mistakes then someone else would have to, and who knows, for them it may actually be fatal. Almost dead and very dead are separated by miles.”

More headlights.

“It ok to hold yourself to high standards Adam, it's generally a good thing, but don’t set it so high that no one can reach.” Light was fading outside and she stood from her chair prompting him to do the same. Waffles yawned and stretched. A streak of lightning rolled across the sky like the branches of some sort of celestial tree.

He wiped at his eye again finally turning his head up to look at her.

She was smiling at him, a genuine smile, not fake or pitious, “I think we really got somewhere today leave it on a positive note?”

He nodded, and she walked him to the door, “Homework, go easy on yourself this week, ok.” The door opened, he thanked her and then walked into the hall bright with the overhead lights and the same steel grey carpet as inside the office. He steered Waffles down the hall and into the men’s restroom, vacant accept for himself under the sickly fluorescent lights.

It was late.

His gate felt unsteady and his hands braced himself upright against cold porcelain.

He learned forward over the sink to splash cold water on his face pulling off the eyepatch and washing it off before pulling it back over his vacant socket. He lifted his head and stared at himself in the mirror, messy blond hair, red puffy eyes and cheeks. But As he looked, a different face stared back at him, greying skin, yellowed sclera, and cerulean blue irises.

He had yet to tell her about that issue.

He turned away from the mirror and stepped from the bathroom into the hall.

Their car was waiting outside, but despite that, the two of them were still soaked by the time they jumped inside

Rain drummed against the car windows. He rested his cheek against the glass eye closed against the cold on his skin. It felt good…. He was quiet, and inside he felt strangely fragile like a cracking porcelain sculpture. Lightning flashed across the sky, and Waffles sighed her upper body resting in his lap lower half sitting under the dashboard. The windshield wipers drummed out a steady beat against the glass. He didn’t speak with the Driver, but paid him electronically and stepped from the car upon reaching their destination.

Wet tires against wet concrete, and he was left to push through the rain, jacket pulled up against the cold.

The interior of the ship was dark. Most of the crew had gone on leave. He walked through the dark halls alone, and imagined he could hear the drumming of the rain against the hull, but knew that wasn’t likely. He was just passing by the mess hall pausing when he heard laughter and saw a warm yellow light cut across the floor. The warm voices seemed to pull him in as the marines talked laughing and joking, but he couldn;t do it, couldn't make himself go in.

Once upon a time he wouldn’t have imagined missing an opportunity to socialize, but instead he turned to the dark hallways heart heavy. He had no idea where his feet were carrying him.

Sunny sat up at the knock on her door called from her worried musings by the hesitant knock. She wondered what the marines wanted now. With the Commander out for the day and most of the bridge crew gone, it remained up to her to keep the Marines in tact, which was a surprisingly difficult job to maintain.

“Come in!” She called

The door hissed open, and she was momentarily blinded by light throwing her hand up to find a silhouette standing in the doorway. It stepped in and the door snicked shut behind him.

Adam stood in the doorway, his body and hair damp with rain, his face with saline. His hands hung cold and white at his sides. Little tracts of water pooled around his boots and glistened on his jacket. His ears were flushed pink with the cold.

She stood slowly and quietly as if worried a sudden movement might scare him away. He hadn’t spoken more than a few words to her in what seemed like years, but was more like a week or two. His usually bright green eye was awash with a cold greyness, as if the cloudy sky above and seeped into his soul, but a closer inspection gave her the distinct impression of…..

Pleading?

“Sunny….” His voice was a soft rasp, thick and heavy like he was speaking past a great weight.

She missed him.

“Adam…. Is everything ok?”

His mouth twitched, his cheek quivered, his jaw worked for a long moment like he was fighting with himself internally. It looked painful, and was hard to watch. When his voice came, it came with a slight quiver, “No…. I…. its been…. A really shit day.”

She wanted to move forward, to help him, but she knew like a man drowning, he would need to reach for the help before she could pull him in. Didn’t mean she wanted to watch him drown, choking and gasping for air.

His expression was distant and glassy speaking past her more than to her, “She says I hold myself to standards that are too high.” Sunny remained quiet waiting, drawing him out, “But WHY are the standards too high? Why am I expected to fail….. WHY Does everyone have to be so understanding. Why can’t it be just what it looks like, yes Adam you fucked up and what you did was wrong and you failed. What is wrong with that?” The human looked up at her eye glistening with the vestiges of agony, “Why can’t the bar be set high….. sometimes , sometimes people just fail, and that's the truth of it. Why can’t we admit that. Why can’t anyone look me in the eye AND TELL ME THAT.” His voice was hoarse .

“Why do I have to be so accepting….. It just…. It feels like giving up. Like giving up on the man I’ve always wanted to be.”

“You wouldn’t give up, Adam….. Even if you were capable of it.” She said softly

Hed breathed in heavily air catching in his throat, “Why can’t I do this better….” he threw his hands up in the air.

“Because…. You’re only human.”

“Being human ISN’T AN EXCUSE ANYMORE!” His voice rattled off the hull reverberating through the metal. His voice snapped completely and he sagged back against the wall hand to his throat. She couldn’t stand it anymore, she couldn't watch him drown.

So she jumped in pushed past the current to catch him. He sagged against her as she fought back the current threatening to pull him under.

“How do you do it, Sunny.” he whispered

“Do what?” She wondered.

“I can’t even fight off failure when everyone is at my back…..you….. You did it and the entire world was at your heels……”

The ship was quiet, simply the soft whirr of the backup generators to pierce the quiet, “When I was young, my brother taught me one valuable lesson. He told me, Sunny stop trying to be something you’re not and may never be, but take what you have and be the best version of the person you are now…. I didn’t listen to him for the longest time…. And I suffered for it.”

She took the Human’s face in two of her hands and made him look up at her, “Maybe you can set the bar high, Adam, but you have to make sure the bar is in the same room. Because if you weren't so trusting, and if you didn’t make mistakes….. Than you would have kicked me off the ship as soon as I walked on”

Lights reflected from his eyes and she dragged, pulled him towards shore with all her might. Her voice was soft, “So I say be damned to being perfect….. Let's be honest, it's not exactly a human trait anyway.”

429 notes · View notes

meta-squash · 4 years

Text

God’s Own Country and Physical Touch

Touch is a huge, massive, really fucking important part of God’s Own Country. It’s a main aspect of the film, and most definitely a huge catalyst in Johnny being able to open up at all.

But it’s interesting to look at the way that touch is used by Johnny and Gheorghe, and who takes the lead or has control, how it’s expressed, things like that. So much of the film is body language, specifically touch, rather than verbal expression.

In the scene in the hut, touch is a way to get Johnny to open up. Gheorghe touching Johnny gently allows him to slow down, for once. And it’s the first time he experiences touch as a comfort, as something soothing and pleasurable that’s about the experience of actually being touched, rather than just fucking. The early morning scene introduces their sexual attraction and Johnny’s unacknowledged desperation for connection. But the scene in the hut is Johnny’s introduction to intimacy. And it’s Johnny being vulnerable in a way that he’s never been before, and he has Gheorghe to be gentle and guide him.

I think there is that obvious contrast between the blowjob scene and the scene in the hut: both Gheorge and Johnny are kind of frantic and physically tense in the first scene, both scared of the intimacy of actual sex. Johnny grabs Gheorghe’s arm and holds it to the ground to keep his hand away from touching him. It’s similar to the cattle trailer scene we see at the beginning of the movie. This entire scene is initiated and led by Johnny.

But the scene in the hut is initiated and led by Gheorghe. It’s Gheorghe who continually slows Johnny down. Exactly opposite to the previous scene, he deliberately places Johnny’s hands on his own body, deliberately encourages Johnny to touch him and encourages Johnny to enjoy being touched himself. Johnny starts to see touch and sex as something meant for connection.

This is going to sound weird, but I think it’s interesting to compare the scene in the hut to the scene in Scotland. In both scenes, Gheorghe is more or less the one in control. At least, he’s the one who’s in a more calm, stable state and he kind of has the ability to control where things go. But I think it’s interesting that in the hut scene, touch helps Johnny open up. As soon as he starts to break that internal barrier, he’s pushing into Gheorghe’s touch, kissing him, holding him. It’s a new and intense sort of intimacy. But in the scene in Scotland, when Gheorghe reaches for Johnny, he jumps back saying “Leave me! I’m all right.”

Again, this sounds odd, but I think it’s got a lot to do with that intimacy of touch. This is Johnny being intimate in an emotional way, but this time he’s talking. He’s struggling to communicate verbally (something none of the Saxby’s seem too great at) and I think he knows that if Gheorghe tries to initiate physical intimacy before he gets everything out that he wants to say, he’s not going to be able to say it. This last monologue is the most we’ve head Johnny say at one time without interruption. I mean, I assume they had more back-and-forth conversation that was sort of hinted at throughout, but this is like a proper monologue which is fairly unlike Johnny. The night at the pub was kind of a step backwards for him; deciding to go after Gheorghe is a massive step forwards, and making an effort to communicate is a huge part of that. Especially since Gheorghe seems to have been very gently encouraging verbal communication the whole time. Once Johnny is able to get that out, to make sure he’s communicated what he’s thinking and what he wants, Gheorghe in turn responds in a way that is more Johnny’s style of communication: the simple inside joke they’ve developed, and physical touch.

I think the two back to back scenes in the house and then in the caravan are also really important. The scene in the house is a sort of adorably lovestruck Johnny; but he’s definitely still learning what’s what. Once Dierdre leaves, the way he touches and kisses Gheorghe is affectionate and sweet and very, very eager, but it still seems to have that sort of frantic lust-driven lean toward just getting off. Gheorghe forces him to chill out, but I also think it’s interesting that this whole scene takes place in the house, which at this point is still Johnny’s turf, not Gheorghe’s. Once they’ve moved to the caravan, things slow down. Johnny’s being stubborn, he’s a little frustrated that he got shot down, but it quickly turns playful. I love his sort of bashful smile as he starts to relax, like he’s realized how ridiculous he was being and how sweet Gheorghe is being. The caravan is sort of Gheorghe’s turf, so he’s calling the shots again, sort of, forcing Johnny to slow down and feel something other than lust. But it’s still different from the scene in the hut; they’ve acquired more emotional and personal connection, beyond just the physical, so their touches seem to have more emotional intent.

Which segues nicely into another aspect I’ve been thinking about, which is touch as initiated by Johnny vs initiated by Gheorghe. In the beginning, the only time we see Johnny utilizing gentle touch in any way is with the animals, and even that is fairly clinical. But with people, he’s so distant. At first, any touch initiated by Johnny is purely sexual in nature. The trainee auctioneer at the beginning, obviously, but also with Gheorghe. He doesn’t initiate touch with Gheorghe except in the blowjob scene and the sex scene in the hut. And both of those, too, his attempts at touch are purely sexual: he goes straight for Gheorghe’s dick and bypasses anything else. The first time he touches someone gently is when Gheorghe slows him down. After that, most of the touches he initiates are still a little fast, a little too urgent, but he’s slowed down so much. Even in the scene in the hut, even when he’s broken through those barriers and allowed himself to touch gently, there’s a streak of frantic desperation, despite the fact that he has kind of slowed down a bit. Same with the scene in the house when Dierdre leaves the room; it’s gentler, more affectionate, but still so keyed up.

We see a sort of emotional parallel to Johnny’s connection to touch in his connection to the animals. The bit with the calf shows that Johnny cares, he cares a lot, but he has no idea how to express that or how to deal with it in a healthy way. It’s the same with touch. He cares, and once he’s experienced that gentle touch, he wants it, but he’s not sure how to express or navigate it.

From the beginning, Gheorghe is framed as a carer. His first touches are intimate, without necessarily being overtly sexual. There’s definitely a charge there, in the scene where he spits in Johnny’s palm, but I think initially it is on Gheorghe’s end an inclination to help. It’s also a really interesting nonverbal way to further test the waters. He knows from the earlier scene when he knocked Johnny down that Johnny’s all bark and no bite, and I think he kind of realizes Johnny’s sorta floundering. This scene where Gheorghe spits in Johnny’s palm is the start of a sort of physical connection. The blowjob scene is frantic and lustful, but there is also that moment where Gheorghe tries to initiate intimate touch and Johnny forces his arm away.

But I think what’s amazing about Gheorghe is the way he gets Johnny used to touch. That first scene in the hut, when he breaks down Johnny’s barriers and gets him to start opening up to intimacy is huge. Every moment Gheorghe introduces a new form of touch, Johnny reacts by literally pushing against it; Gheorghe puts his hand to Johnny’s cheek and Johnny’s hand to his own, and Johnny responds by gripping his face more than caressing it, before eventually relaxing. This goes on for a little while in the scene until Johnny starts to let those walls crumble. But after that, Gheorghe’s main form of touch is small, gentle, casual touches. He spends that scene in the hut where they’re talking about their lives gently stroking Johnny’s leg. On the ride on the ATV he’s got his hands on Johnny’s hips. Any time he’s touching Johnny, his fingers are just very gently stroking whatever skin he’s touching. Even in the pub, having that serious conversation about the relationship while working on the farm, they’re elbow to elbow. And obviously there’s the hospital scene. But these little, casual touches are so different from the intense sexual encounters between the two of them, because those touches are so gentle and small and neither of them try to acknowledge them. Gheorghe starts to normalize gentle, casual touch for Johnny.

Not only that, but I think by the time Martin is in hospital, Johnny has gotten used to little touches, but only around then has he started to really acknowledge the comfort they hold. Gheorghe touches Johnny’s hand, and it makes him feel a little better, like someone is there for him and cares about him. So he tries it with an unconscious Martin, touching his finger, and Martin’s breathing changes. I think that moment is actually a huge catalyst for his intense reaction at Martin not being able to be well again later; there was that moment, that moment that sort of gave Johnny hope and a connection, and all that is lost when Dierdre reveals that Martin isn’t going to get better, and that he almost died, and that Johnny is going to have to be responsible for the farm from here on out.

Because Johnny’s physical intimacy with Gheorghe, his connection both physical and emotional, helps him to learn to enjoy and take comfort in touch, which also helps him to start opening up emotionally to himself and to Gheorghe and to his family. But that shock that Martin isn’t going to get better has Johnny scared and upset and reverting back to his old coping mechanisms. He has opened up so much. But now, in the face of this upsetting news, he’s too vulnerable. He feels like he has to go back to the way he used to be, all clammed up and walled in and protected from feeling anything but anger and using anonymous sex as a way to distance himself from intimate and vulnerable touch.

Once Gheorghe is gone, we see Johnny realize what he’s missing, what he’s done. The scene where he puts on Gheorghe’s jumper is so sad and yearning and lovely, but what really got me is the way Johnny starts off rubbing the weave of the jumper and ends up caressing and holding his own hand as if it were Gheorghe’s.

But Gheorghe being gone doesn’t mean all of Johnny’s walls are back up. In fact, I think they start crumbling even further when he realizes how badly he fucked up. He’s frustrated and sad and upset but also for the first time, he starts being gentle, with the animals, with Gheorghe’s jumper, with his family. The bathtub scene isn’t just an illustration of Martin’s sudden helplessness and vulnerability; it’s also an illustration of Johnny’s newfound awareness of others’ emotions, and his newfound ability to touch in a way that is comforting, gentle, and helpful, rather than rough or impersonal.

And the scene in Scotland is the first time we see Johnny accept physical comfort without pushing away at any point, without pushing back first. There is the “Leave me, I’m fine” line, but like I said above, I think he knew that he wouldn’t be able to get out everything he had to say if he accepted that comfort, and I don’t think he was emotionally ready for it until he knew he had expressed everything. Because it is also the first time we see Johnny really making an effort to talk about it as well. But when Gheorghe kisses him, and then simply holds him, it’s the first time we see them in such close, gentle touch that isn’t obviously pre- or post-sexual act.

I love that the last three physical touches in the film are so drastically different. In Scotland, Johnny’s being held and comforted by Gheorghe; he’s even rocking him a bit as the camera pulls back. It’s intimate in a sort of romantic way, but very much in a way that portrays their connection and how much solace Johnny gets from Gheorghe. Then on the coach, Johnny puts his head on Gheorghe’s shoulder in his sleep and Gheorghe wakes only to lean his head against Johnny’s. It’s a moment where they’re vulnerable together; not necessarily emotionally, but to the world in general. They’re sleeping together quite literally, in public, leaning on one another, just getting comfort out of simple contact. And I don’t think the Johnny of the early part of the film would lean on another person, even in his sleep. And lastly, the way Gheorghe puts his arm around Johnny’s shoulders as they head back inside. It’s very much a gesture of support. When Johnny turns around, he’s visibly upset, worried; maybe about the future of the farm, or his father, or their relationship, who knows. But Gheorghe sees this and puts his arm around Johnny and they both know they’re in this together and they’ve got each other to lean on.

The important part of touch in this film isn’t necessarily sexual. We know Johnny is perfectly comfortable with his own sexuality. The importance of touch is about intimacy, and letting people in, and learning to give and accept comfort. Johnny and Gheorghe’s intimacy starts with care and moves on to sex and returns in the end to care, with an added emotional layer. But Johnny learning to receive care and comfort then allows him to give care and comfort to his family, and to open up enough emotionally to actually communicate his thoughts and feelings and desires in the end. Johnny in the beginning is hurting and angry and distant, unwilling to allow himself connection or vulnerability. Johnny in the end is still hurting, still upset and frustrated, but the difference is that now he’s able to be vulnerable, he’s able to connect with others on an emotional and physical level. He’s able to communicate his feelings and accept love and comfort in return.

#god's own country #god's own country meta #um wow this is a lot longer and a lot more than i anticipated

35 notes · View notes

jasontoddiefor · 5 years

Note

Can you make a fluff of Bruce comforting and pampering his two wives: Selina and Talia who wake up crying after having a nightmare?

Ship: Talia/Bruce/Selina

Summary: An average day in a household of three parents, a teenager, and a baby, a British grandfather and butler and too many cats to counts.

AN: Well, Anon, I did say it would escalate a bit being 2.100 words long instead of 500. I based baby Damian on my baby cousin with whom I got to spend the last 2 weeks. She’s so adorable. I want one. Like not 24/7 but just when you need a hug buddy. Lots of domestic fluff before the nightmares though.

Bruce and Talia were not morning people. Period. It was part of the vigilante-and-parents-of-a-one-year-old lifestyle. If you regularly stayed up late until the early morning to fight out on the streets and then return to a baby, chances were you’d be grumpy in the morning and not as presentable as your British company would like. Bruce’s hair stuck in all directions and to Alfred’s unvoiced but heavily implied displeasure, he’d shown up to the breakfast table wearing only the shorts he’d slept in. Sleepiness clung to him even after his second cup of black tea and he decided right then and there that in case nobody else actually needed him this morning, he’d crawl back into bed with Damian for his nap.

Usually, Talia was the one who slept another round with their son in the mornings since Selina went to her gallery, but she had a Wayne Enterprises meeting at eleven and had to get ready. Though right now, she looked about as awake as him, even if she had put more effort into her appearance. She was wearing a green cardigan above her nightgown and had brushed her hair.

There was a reason that Alfred liked every family member more than Bruce before lunchtime.

And Damian and Selina, the other two early risers besides Alfred, were his favorites.

“Hello, Sleeping beauty,” Selina greeted when she and entered the kitchen. She shifted her hold on Damian so that she could give Talia a quick peck on the cheek.

“Good Morning, Dearest,” Talia replied. “And hello, my little Prince. Since when have you been up again?”

Damian giggled and hid his face in the crook of Selina’s neck. Then he turned away from it, only so slightly that he could look at his mother for a second, before laughing and hiding away again.

“Two hours ago. We’ve kept busy playing with Diamond and Spade.”

According to Bruce’s research, children liked animals, so it shouldn’t have been such a surprise that Damian loved the many cats that roamed the manor. But those two especially he seemed to adore. Whenever they were in the room, everyone and everything else was suddenly uninteresting.

“I’m starting to get jealous of them,” Talia said, though her smile spoke of her joy.

Talia and Selina had been more rested and happier recently, and Bruce cherished every moment. It was a harsh change from the beginning where every display of true affection had been hidden away behind a fortress of fear. Not that Bruce had been or was any better. Truthfully speaking, most of the time he thought he was the most emotionally constipated of them all. Emotions were like an uncontrollable tidal wave you couldn’t escape. Of course, they scared people who had spent most of their lives wearing one or another kind of mask.

“You’re still Dick’s number one though,” Selina said and put Damian down in his high-chair. He immediately began to smash the potatoes and carrots Alfred had cooked for him into even tinier pieces. Then, after stretching her arms above her head, Selina sat down next to Bruce, giving him a quick kiss as well.

“Thank you, Dearest, but we all know that isn’t true,” Talia replied.

She and Selina both shot Bruce a dirty look, and he tried extremely hard to not grin at them.

He failed.

Sue him, but he was happy that his teenage son still thought he was the coolest. All the other parents - including heroes - always complained about how distant their children were becoming, but Dick was still as affectionate as he had been as a preteen. Looking at the kitchen’s clock though, Bruce frowned. It was almost time for school and Dick still hadn’t shown up for breakfast.

“Where is Dick?”

“Doing homework,” Alfred spoke up. “I believe he wasn’t exactly truthful last night when he said he only had a few exercises to do.”

Alfred was already packing Dick’s lunchbox for school, which was more filled than usual with a variety of sandwiches and fruits. No sweets today though.

Bruce sighed. “I’ll talk to him later.”

Dick always had a hard time adjusting to school life after a break filled with heroics. Doing math simply didn’t measure up to going after back robbers.

As if summoned by their discussion, Dick came running down the hallway. The fifteen-year-old was already wearing his school uniform, even if it was a little more wrinkled than Alfred had ironed it the previous day.

“Good morning, we’re late!” He shouted in passing and only stopped to ruffle Damian’s hair and take the lunchbox out of Alfred’s hands. “I’m getting the car to the front, see you there, Alfred!”

Dick rushed out of the kitchen again, heading towards the garage.

“Does he know that we took away the car keys after the last incident?” Selina spoke up as soon as Dick was out of earshot.

“No.”

The day continued on as pleasantly as the morning. Once Talia had left, Selina went to feed all her cats and Bruce tried to go back to bed, but Damian had a different idea. Thus, instead of settling in his king-sized very comfortable bed, Bruce ended up on his slightly less welcoming sofa in the baby-proofed TV/living room where Damian could happily build towers.

It still caught Bruce off-guard to see how much of a genuinely cheerful child Damian was. He only cried when he hurt himself and rarely threw any tantrums. Most of the time, he just softly spoke to himself or showed his affection by hugging someone’s legs or, if in reach, gently squishing their cheeks. Bruce could spend ages just watching his son slowly explore the world around him.

After about two hours, Damian finally tired and decided to nap on Bruce’s chest.

“They’re adorable!”

“Don’t wake them up, Dick, they need their sleep.”

“Dami is already half-awake though. And I stayed up as long as Bruce yesterday and I’m not as tired.”

“Bruce is an old man already.”

When Bruce finally opened his eyes, Damian was staring into them with his own still baby blue eyes. Damian gurgled and put his hands on Bruce’s face.

“You’re my age, Selina,” Bruce muttered when he finally sat up.

He put Damian on the ground, and the boy immediately waddled over to the other sofa, where Dick and Selina were curled up next to each other. Dick with a comic book in hand and Selina holding onto the TV remote. As soon as Damian reached the sofa, Dick picked him up and showed him his comic.

“But you’re an old soul, Bat. Less 29 and more 87.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and threw one of the sofa pillows after her which of course she caught with ease. “Thank you, Selina.”

“You’re welcome. Now, do you want to watch Night at the museum with us or not?”

Bruce contemplated staying on his sofa out of sheer protest, but that also put the tea out of his reach. From the way Selina was smirking at him, he deduced that she knew it as well.

Well, his ego wasn’t so big that he couldn’t admit defeat once in a while.

Talia returned home the minute Alfred put dinner on the table. She was frowning, and Bruce had no doubt that he’d get to hear about incompetent board directors later on. Dick chatted away about his day, throwing in one or two or three unsubtle allusions to Robin every five minutes they all ignored, and understood every babble from Damian as serious input to his narration. Alfred took to reminding them about the harvest gala at the end of the month and usually this would be the moment Selina pitched in to tell them about what arrangements she had made so far, but beyond a few vague ideas, she didn’t say much.

Talia and Bruce exchanged worried looks but didn’t say anything. With Selina, you had to wait until she came to you.

After dinner, Dick ran off to chat even more with his friends, Talia brought Damian to bed, and Selina disappeared in their bedroom. Bruce headed to the Batcave to do some last security checks. They didn’t have any active cases and if no alarm rang, he wouldn’t head out today.

It had already gone dark hours ago, but by the time Bruce fell into bed, Talia and Selina were already sleeping, hogging the blankets as usual.

It was a grip on his arm that woke him up. It hadn’t taken much, Bruce was a slight sleeper, and he sat upright in bed. Selina’s black nails were digging into his arm, and she didn’t let go until her breathing evened. She didn’t shed a single tear, her shoulders didn’t even move. Selina didn’t cry unless she could gain something from it.

“Can I help you?” Bruce asked once she had calmed down.

They hadn’t had a bad night in a while, Bruce should have expected this. There was something about peaceful days that put them all on edge.

Bruce wanted to ask a hundred things. Know all there was to Selina. What exactly happened on her trip to the gallery, whether that had anything to do with the fact that she was wearing Talia and Bruce’s clothes instead of her own if she was aware how loved she was-

But that was too much right now. Instead, Bruce just pulled her close and wrapped the blanket around them.

“Where is Talia?” Selina asked after a few minutes.

They both turned right to look at the bathroom, but the door was closed and no remains of light could be seen at the floor.

Seemed like Talia hadn’t had slept well either.

“Probably with one of the boys. We should go look for her.”

They found Talia just outside the hallway, sitting in the space between the doors to Dick’s room and Damian’s nursery. Her back was straight and her legs folded beneath her while her sword laid on her lap. The pose was a familiar one. Bruce recalled spending hours sitting like this in the wilderness, waiting for one of his teachers to silently approach him and attempt to cut him down.

At least the sword was still in his sheath. She wasn’t actually preparing for an attack, just for the possibility of one.

“You’re keeping watch over the boys tonight?”

Talia replied with a short nod and moved only slightly to accommodate for Selina making herself comfortable next to her.

“You know they’re safe, right?”

Another nod.

“No harm will come to them.”

Talia took a deep breath and leaned towards Selina.

“They’re safe, just sleeping behind the doors. And Damian will wake up again in the morning, and we’ll play with the cats as always while you and Bruce still sleep.”

“Dick will get up on time and argue that it means he can take long patrols during the week. And Alfred…”

Selina kept talking, reminding Talia and herself of the everyday life of the manor. Bruce, meanwhile, went to fulfill his role of the night. He went down to the kitchen, narrowly avoiding stepping on one of the cats. Bruce turned on the stove and poured milk, honey, chocolate, and cinnamon in a pot. Once the hot chocolate was done, he fetched three cups and poured the liquid into them. Bruce took the tray specifically reserved for carrying tea, coffee, and hot chocolate from the same cupboard and made his way upstairs again. After a quick detour into their bedroom, Bruce settled down next to his lovers with the warm beverage, their blanket, and two big pillows.

Talia’s head was now wholly resting on Selina’s left shoulder.

“Thank you, Beloved,” she said when Bruce handed her a mug.

It wasn’t the first time the three of them spent camping out in one of the hallways instead of the bed and it certainly wouldn’t be the last though. For now, though, with skin touching skin, reassuring them that everyone was home, and a blanket to cover them, all was well.

#batman #bruce wayne #selina kyle #talia al ghul #brutalina #batcat #demoncat #brutalia #that was talia/selina’s ship name right??#dick grayson #damian wayne #dc #dc comics #anon #ask #prompt #I JUST LIKE MY DOMESTIC OT3 #fanfic

77 notes · View notes

lilliputianmerriell · 5 years

Photo

For @rayofimpendingalcoholism who requested nicknames!Sledgefu.

The pet names had started out innocently enough. Or innocent as far as borderline harassment goes anyway, Eugene supposes.

Snafu has always had this tendency to belittle the new recruits with all sorts of embarrassing nicknames according to Burgie. It was his way to test them, to see if they could stand the heat by naming them all sorts of embarrassing thing, so Eugene doesn’t think he is anything special when Snafu starts calling him ‘boo’ and ‘sweetheart’ and shit like that. Eugene always just attributes it to Snafu being Snafu, who is a bit of a dick and needs to compensate for his small, scrawny stature by asserting himself in some kind of way.

It is the natural assumption to make when another guy starts calling you all sorts of endearments, right?

Eugene begins to suspect that he might have been wrong though as time progresses and the name-calling doesn’t stop. Not when Eugene hauls Snafu off that airfield. Not when they lost Ack-Ack and Hillbilly on Bloody nose ridge. Not even when Snafu nicknames him ‘Sledgehammer’ in front of everyone which Eugene really thought was Snafu accepting him into the group and would be the end of it. It’s a constant influx of degrading, imaginative pet names that Snafu purrs at him mockingly while wearing that infuriating smirk on his face.

“Alright there, sugar?” Snafu asks when Eugene is knocked on his ass during a grappling session at Pavuvu. He is standing above him, hands on his narrow waist and a smug look on his face, and looking like he shouldn’t possess the strength to beat Eugene with those weedy arms of his.

Eugene can feel his face going an angry red. “Don’t call me that. I ain’t your sugar,” he bites back, glaring hard at Snafu. He knows it’s pointless to fight with him, but Eugene’s getting tired of the name-calling. They should be too old to resort to that kind of shit behaviour.

Snafu seems to chew on Eugene’s words for a second. “Maybe you’re right. Ain’t much sugar with that hair colour, Sledgehammer.” He pauses dramatically and leans forward to breathe a hot breath into Eugene’s ear. “Thankfully, there's plenty of other stuff that's equally as sweet, honey.”

“That ain’t funny, Snaf’. That’s the kind of shit you’d call your wife.”

Snafu only laughs as he walks off, leaving behind a flustered and angry Eugene who is already plotting how he is going to get back at the arrogant Cajun.

While not aware of it at the time, an opportunity presents itself when Eugene is startled awake to a wet gasp about a week later.

He pushes himself up in his bed, wild eyes trying to orient themselves in the darkness and locate the source of the noise in the darkness. The other guys are asleep in their bunks, except for one, and Eugene just manages to catch the sight of Snafu’s back as he storms outside their small tent before the tent flap shuts behind him. It doesn’t take much contemplation before Eugene is quietly climbing out of his own bunk to follow after him into the night.

“Snafu?” he calls softly when he is outside, afraid to alert anyone else who isn’t Snafu of his presence. No one else needed to see Snafu in the kind of state of mind Eugene suspects he is in judging from that cry he’d heard. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to search for long as he finds Snafu leaning against the tarp on the other side of their small shelter. Snafu is in the process of light a cigarette when Eugene approaches him.

“Fuck,” Snafu curses as he struggles to ignite his cheap lighter with unsteady fingers. His hands holding the small container doesn’t seem to want to cooperate with him as there’s a visible tremor there making it difficult for Snafu to hold them steady.

“Here, let me,” Eugene says, his quiet voice making Snafu jump as if he hadn’t noticed he was there. Eugene pretends he doesn’t notice though as he extract the lighter from Snafu’s hands and lights it, holding the small flame up to Snafu’s cigarette.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Handing the lighter back to Snafu, Eugene leans against the tarp as well, looking up at the stars above. They were so clear here compared to back home.

“I don’t have nightmares often,” Snafu admits after a long moment of shared silence. His voice is steady, but his hands are still trembling with unspent adrenaline from whatever images haunt his dreams at night. “But when I do, it just feels so real, y’know? Like I can actually see and feel the life of everyone around me get sucked out of them.”

“And what does that feel like?” Eugene asks carefully, his gaze still glued to the black canvas above, shimmering with small glimmers of light.

“Cold.”

Eugene nods in understanding. He knows the feeling of waking up in a panic, heart racing, while your mind is telling you all sorts of terrible lies. More than once have Eugene woken up in a cold sweat, the dead bodies of his loved ones littered over a ruined battlefield while he is the only survivor. He wouldn’t wish those kinds of nightmares on anyone.

He wonders what sorts of horrors Snafu sees when he’s asleep.

There’s the sound of someone exhaling a shaky breath next to him and Eugene finally chances a glance at Snafu who is sitting with his head in his palms. Eugene’s heart clenches painfully at the sight, something about the image of a distraught Snafu not seeming right. An idea present itself to him then; an opportunity to cheer Snafu up and also get back at him for all those silly pet names.

Carefully, he shuffles closer to Snafu. “Hey,” he says and nudges him with his elbow. “Cheer up, buttercup. We ain’t dead yet, we might still make it home.”

It earns him a quizzical eyebrow before a soft smile forms around the smoke perched between his lips. “Ain’t nobody goin’ home, honey. Y’know that.”

Suddenly, Eugene has some ammunition of his own as he starts mocking Snafu with his newly baptised pet name for him. Every time Snafu coos honey at him in a teasing tone, Eugene fires right back with calling him his little buttercup, so small and delicate.

Alone, Snafu smiles to himself when Eugene calls him that, seeming almost pleased with the childish pet name, but he doesn’t seem to take to the name quite so well when Eugene uses it front of the other guys, Bill’s roaring laugh turning Snafu’s face an angry, embarrassed red.

It continues like this for months, but the name-calling tapers off as the campaign stretches on in Okinawa. Eugene is so emotionless and distant then. When all is painted is black and red, it’s difficult to find joy in anything as silly as teasing your friend with silly nicknames. Besides, his head is so filled with horror and terrible images that he doesn’t even notice Snafu’s stopped calling him honey. It isn’t before he is sitting emotionally exhausted and broken on a bench outside a destroyed house with a shell-shaped hole in the roof and a dead family inside that he realises it is something that he has even been missing.

A warm figure presses up close to his side. “How’re you holdin’ up, boo?”

“Thought I was your honey,” Eugene remarks coldly.

Snafu considers him evenly through tired, sad eyes. “Gott’a be sweet for me to call ya that. And not gonn’a lie Sledge, you’re more reminiscent of a ghost these days.”

For some reason, Eugene feels his heart sink at this. He swallows hard around the lump suddenly forming in his throat. “Well, ain’t going to stop callin’ ya buttercup if that’s your ploy here.” Eugene chuckles weakly despite himself. “They’re considered weeds, y’know? Persistent little things, can wiggle their way in everywhere. Incredibly difficult to get rid of too once they’ve taken root.”

An intent gaze is burning into the side of Eugene’s face, he can feel it, but his own eyes are trained on the wet mud underneath his feet where no flowers or plants would want to grow in a long time. “I never understood why they were considered weeds though. I used to love picking them from mother’s garden as a kid, thought they were so pretty and delicate in the way they almost seemed to glow in the sunlight.” Eugene chuckles weakly again before his breath hitches and he dissolves into tears. He ducks his head in embarrassment. He hadn’t thought about home in such a long time and oh god he misses it, would give anything to be back there.

An arm drapes over his shoulder then. “Your mama’s garden sounds nice,” is all that Snafu says. But it’s all that he needs to say as he sits with Eugene until the lieutenant orders them to pack up their things and join the others who are digging foxholes for the night. Despite orders, Snafu stays close, not quite letting go of Eugene as he sleeps curled up close in their foxholes during Eugene’s watch, and Eugene feels lighter and more clearheaded than he has in a long while.

Snafu doesn’t leave him alone after that and the name-calling seem to pick up exactly where they’d left off as they return to throwing them back and forth between themselves. Then, and at some point, it starts to shift from being mocking to being affectionate and loving, a secret shared between them. Eugene starts to think that maybe he is a bit special after all, at least to Snafu who kisses him at V-day, surprisingly shy, and then again later when they are alone under the stars.

Those long, secret nights that they share in each other’s’ beds in Peking after that should be more than confirmation enough that there might be something more between them, but Eugene cannot help but feel that this is all just temporary. Something this good is bound to end sometime, either that they get caught or Snafu leaves, and Eugene doesn’t dare to think otherwise. It would make the disappointment easier to swallow when he wakes up one day and Snafu isn’t there anymore.

The thought of Snafu not being there haunts him from the moment it appears as a possibility in his mind. It makes him cling onto Snafu even more than before, staying close by his side all hours of the day and in his bed all night as he presses soft kisses to his chest, his stomach while he whispers about his little flower, his buttercup. In return, Snafu will thread his fingers through his ginger hair, muttering encouraging words to his honey until he is twisting underneath Eugene’s clever hands and mouth.

It is loving and peaceful, but not bound to last, and it is with a heavy heart Eugene steps onto the train that will take them all back to their old lives on the south coast. He is adamant to spend these last few hours with Snafu and not waste a single moment. And then, when he would get home, he would find one of the flowers in his mother’s garden and press it between the pages of his bible, preserving the memory of his little buttercup amongst the written words about him.

The anxiety and stress must have caught up to him though, as he peels his eyes open after having fallen asleep in his seat. The bright sun outside must have woken him up as it hits his face and casts his surroundings in a beautiful light, including Snafu who is sitting opposite him.

Snafu’s eyes are trained on a newspaper resting in his lap with a concentrated frown pinching his brows together while he reads makes Eugene heart warm before he feels a spike of panic. He’s wasted so much time, he should have stayed awake. Oh god, how much time did they have left together?

“How far are we from your stop?” Eugene asks, trying to hide his anxiety by acting nonchalant and stretching out his long limb in his small seat, his legs gracing Snafu’s ankles underneath the table. He hates to think about parting from Snafu soon when the man has become such a constant in his life. A reliable comrade, a loyal friend, the person he trusts the most and cares about the most. Snafu’s wound his way into Eugene’s heart, and Eugene thinks he himself might waste away if Snafu was uprooted from his newfound home.

“We passed it a while ago,” Snafu says absently as his attention trails along the printed text of his paper. He doesn’t seem remotely fazed by the fact he’s missed his stop.

Eugene only looks at him bewilderment, not able to understand in his panicked state. He hadn’t been sleeping for that long, how did he miss that they’ve already passed New Orleans? And why was Snafu still here? Eugene just about manages to collect himself enough to voice his latter question out loud, earning a small quirk of Snafu’s lips before Snafu folds up his newspaper to give Eugene his full attention.

“Because,” Snafu says easily, the light outside hitting his tawny skin and making him seem deceitfully delicate and beautiful as he appears to glow in the sunrays. “Honey, you’re the one. Looks like you’re takin’ me home to your mama’s garden after all.”

#I am terrible at making stuff people ask for apparently #but I hope this is okay #sorry that I am the slowest in the universe but this was a bit of a struggle #but it's done! and I hope you like it #because it turned out a lot longer than I anticipated lol #Sledgefu #Merriell Shelton #Eugene Sledge #The Pacific #500 followers edit #my edit #my writing #my writing which hasn't been properly proofread like always

99 notes · View notes

bat-lings · 5 years

Note

I recently saw a popular post where somebody was complaining that Dick going back to the bat-office after the NTT run ended was a set-back for his character, the main reason being that they turned him into "an emotionally constipated batman 2" and I was a bit confused by that. I'm not an expert on his character but from what I've read I actually feel by the time he got his own solo he seemed a lot more emotionally mature and open compared to his NTT days where he seemed way more guarded and cold

I agree, Dick in Nightwing ‘96 reads considerably lighter and more emotionally balanced than during NTT’s early days. Boy was a tightass lmao. Emotional capability & openness is something he had to acquire and the Titans (especially Kory) helped him a lot in that process.

I understand the fans’ frustration given that Dick’s re-inclusion in the batbooks involved a disastrous handling of dickkory and cutting him off of the Titans for several years, but I don’t think it involved him backtracking on his development at all. Quite the contrary, in fact.

You make another very relevant point: writers’ personal interpretation aside, characters are portrayed differently in each book to serve the narrative’s purpose. Tim too is shown as more serious and “bat-like” in Titans (2003) compared to his portrayal in his solo. Same goes for Dick. Mh, not that I am the biggest fan of TT 2003 but I can get the intent behind some writing choices. Characters assume different roles depending on whether they’re with friends, teammates, family, or on their own. Of course it must be controlled lest the character feels too different or ooc the second he’s used in a different book, but in itself it’s pretty interesting.

Anyway no, I really don’t think Dick’s return in the batbooks involved a setback on his maturing & emotional development. It’s actually one thing DC managed to stay pretty consistent with.

This is Dick repressing feelings, pushing everyone away, and renouncing on the most basic communication at the cost of the team’s cohesion. For a bunch of issues (and we’re not even in crisis-mode, he just has a lot on his mind) he’s super distant to everyone and let them wonder what the hell is wrong.

[The New Teen Titans (1980) #32]

[The New Teen Titans (1980) Annual 2]

It’s not that he never does that anymore. Outsiders (2003) makes an entire story arc out of Dick failing as a leader due to his unhealthy way to cope after Donna’s death; he still goes back to repressing during hard times (Last Laugh’s aftermath for example) and he can still lash out terribly at loved ones.

But saying that Dick’s development was nullified by his returning to the batbooks is just not true.

This is Dick at the early stages of a relationship before his emotional maturing; vs Dick at the early stages of a relationship after emotional maturing. We literally went from him pushing his partner away when she’s trying to understand and fix what’s wrong, to him initiating a much needed discussion so that he & his partner can move on to build something.

[The New Teen Titans (1980) #28 || Nightwing (1996) #38 & #39]

This is Dick in late 80’s aka before his reintegration in the batbooks, but after having done some growing. Sharing his state of mind simply and freely with Kory, and spontaneously reaching out to friends when he’s feeling like he needs to.

[The New Teen Titans (1984) #39]

[Action Comics (1938) #615]

And here’s Dick in various batbooks acting as the confidant & supporting figure we know so well; or simply being comfortable discussing the emotional/intimate stuff. I don’t think the writing went back on his development at all.

[Batgirl (2000) #29]

I think a lot about Dick going “We all do” here. There’s no ‘we’— during Murderer/Fugitive, Dick was the only one to never have doubted Bruce. Not for a second. And the global narrative insisted so much on that that I have trouble believing the writer forgot it. Look how Dick conveniently skips on that detail in order to comfort Cass. He could’ve said anything from “all evidence were against him,” to “it’s not your fault”. But he chooses the one phrasing that’ll put him on Cass’ level, because right now details and who believed what are irrelevant. They have to work together to fix this mess, as family.

[Robin (1993) #29, #61 & #68]

[Nightwing (1996) #25]

He still has moments of emotional inadequacy where he’ll repress or act unhealthily, but overall he’s definitely more mature than during a good part of NTT. I see casualness as maturity here because there is no need nor benefit to make a fuss out of being open with each other— we’re far from “let me enjoy my bad moment/I won’t share my self doubts or vulnerability ever”. He’s definitely less guarded than before, which makes him more delicate with other people’s feelings too. Dunno if I’d say the other bats are all brooders, they have they lows and highs much like Dick, but he definitely assumed a supporting role in each of their lives that I don’t think he could’ve taken on before.

…Especially with the handful that was Damian lol.

#dick grayson #batfamily #nightwing #batman #meta #dc comics #dickkory #dickbabs #inbox thoughts & insight #zae chatters #asks #tim is literally so easy to love #it was natural for dick to step into a brotherly role once he got his head out of his ass #but damian lmao dick had to do most of the hard work for the first half of their relationship #not unlike kory had to do with him #and 70’s to 80’s Dick couldn’t have done that

67 notes · View notes

harpermiller · 5 years

Note

and again with the ocs for the briller and marper and zaven/waven kids 😊😂

yeeeesssss

(Canon universe is basically no praimfaya happened - but everything up to the fall of ALIE did - Eligius still lands 6 years and 7 days after what would have been Praimfaya)

Ally Miller: Canon universe: 18. Youwould think that the first time Bellamy Blake brings back a child from thewoods it would be for him and Clarke, well you would be wrong. On a huntingouting, they stumble upon an abandoned Ouskejon Kru village. While searching thehuts for supplies, Bellamy stumbles upon a two-year-old girl, who takesimmediately to Miller when he brings her out to the group. Deciding they cannotleave her there, they bring her back to Arkadia. Abby checks her over to makesure she’s alright and the little girl still won’t let go of Miller. He bringsher back to his compartment and him and Bryan make the decision to adopt her (“I’ve been around little gremlins for twoyears now, Blake, how hard can it be?” – spoiler, very hard). They name herafter Bryan’s mother. She loves Harper immediately and Harper claims the titleof Aunt once she learns that Ally is now a Miller. She’straining to become a guard and is by far better than any other trainee. Octavialearns all she can on Ally’s birth clan and teaches her about them when evershe comes to Arkadia. She’s so much like Miller it gives Bryan headaches. She’svery outspoken and will fight you if you threaten her family. Best friends with Poppy Reyes. She gets an arrowin the shoulder during her first experience in combat and Miller forbids herfrom ever leaving the gates again, Bellamy some how talks him out of it. Allyhas punched a huge Azgedan warrior for referring to Skaikru as “full offrikdreina and halfbreeds.” Luckily Kane and Indra stepped in before anything couldescalate. Octavia has taught her simple phrases in trig.

Modern universe: Super Gay - has a girlfriend. Really close with Miller. Loves superheros. She is a firecracker and gets her sense of humour from Miller (aka shes actually hilarious). She will beat the shit out of you if she hears you being a dick. Speaks her mind (she gets that from Bryan). Incredibly protective of her sisters.

Bobbie Miller: Canon universe: 16. Kanestumbles upon a 4-year-old girl when passing by the drop-ship with a party ontheir way to Polis. From her small tattoo on her wrist, he determined she was Yujleda.He sent her back to Arkadia with one of his spare guards and continued on to Polisto report a missing Yujleda girl had been found, no one claimed her. Oncereturning from Polis, Kane learned from the young girl that her name was Bobbieand that she had no family. Miller automatically offered to take her in when heheard about the predicament. Bobbieloves helping in the fields and tending to the chickens that they have atArkadia. She likes to work in the small greenhouse just outside the gates. Hasnerves of steal but a big heart. Best friends with Kira Murphy. Always worries somethings going to happen to Miller when he goes on guard missions. She resents her birth clan for not claimingher, feels as though she belongs with Skaikru. Knows no trig and doesn’t wishto learn it.

Modern universe: She takes after Bryan the most, she likes to garden and tend to the chickens that are in their backyard. She loves to be outdoors. Very giggly and a happy person, very kind and loving. She’s a straight A student and finishes assignments with ease. She loves to spend time with her family. One of her favourite people in the world is David.

Leanna Miller: Canon universe: 6. Awoman from Mecha Station dies during childbirth and there is no other family totake care of the child. Bryan volunteers him and Miller to adopt the child andhis request is accepted. Leannais a little Raven in the making. She’s constantly peering into the hood andunder the vehicle. She trails behind Raven asking all sorts of questions.Harper teaches her how to fight and defend herself. She wants to be Chancellorand a guard when she grows up. Speak little trig.

Modern universe: She’s very unruly and doesnt like to be neat. She likes karate and kickboxing. She helped to name most of the family chickens. She thinks Jasper is the funniest person in the entire world. Very opinionated and stubborn. Whenever Raven’s working on her car you can probably find Leanna leaning over the hood helping. Doesnt like to play with dolls but loves dinosaurs. Loves the Land Before Time movies. Likes to dance with Miller to Bryan’s 80s playlist.

Josie Miller: Canon universe: 2. SurprisinglyRoan is the one who delivers her to Arkadia. He witnessed two Delfikru place asmall bundle on the steps of a building and walk away. He knew the child would be welcomed there so hebrought her to Arkadia. The baby had a leg that was slightly shorter than theother, so she would toddle/limp her whole life. Bryan fell in love with her thefirst glance he got when Kane placed her in his arms. Josie loves to help everyone with household chores. Shecarries around an old, some how still soft, blanket Miller found in a bunker.Attached at the hip to Bryan. Adores Bellamy. Likes to play with the chickensand garden with Bryan. Speaks no trig.

Modern universe: Attached to Bryan. She’s quieter but very happy most of the time. She loves animals and loves the chickens. When Bryan is working in the garden outside, she’ll sit and play in the sandbox. She’s close with Bobbie. She likes to “help” with household chores. She’s pretty shy. Whenever Bellamy comes around she just reaches her hands up at him and goes “Bell Bell Bell” until he picks her up. Has an insane amount of stuffed animals.

Addison Green: Canon universe: 4. Harper finally gets pregnant after years of trying withMonty. Addison comes into the world at the dropship when the delinquents allsneak away for some quiet time and Harper goes into labour prematurely.However, everything goes perfectly, and Addison is happy and healthy. Fastforward, Addison is attached to Harper’s hip. Loves to garden with Monty andBryan. She tags along with Abby sometimes if she goes for walks. Her laughterechoes around camp. Has yet to be outside the gates aside from her birth, bothHarper and Monty are terrified of something happening to her. Jasper hasembraced his role as everyone’s uncle by the time she comes along, but Addisonis different. Because she’s Monty’s she’s basically his and that brings newlife into him. Speaks no trig.

Modern universe: Very giggly and is attached to her mom at the hip. As much as she resembles Monty, she looks like Harper quite a bit. Bryan is one of her favourite people in the world (She calls him Bry because she’s head Miller call him that so much). Likes swing-sets. Is in on Zach’s campaign that the Murphy’s should get a dog. Likes flowers, and her and Monty plant a garden every Spring. Likes to draw with chalk outside. Is very much in love with Ace. Likes to go for walks with Abby. Can have an attitude when she wants to. Favourite princess is Mulan and she loves Lilo and Stitch. Likes when Jasper gives her shoulder rides.

Benny Green: Canon universe: 2. He’s the spitting image of Monty and the quietest baby ever,they wonder if something may be wrong with him (there isn’t). Benny often spends his time with Jaha or sitting up on the guard tower withHarper or Miller during their shifts. Isn’t afraid of anything. He wandersabout the camp a lot and since he’s so quiet most people don’t realize he’s followingthem (that’s how he’s been outside the gates, but his sister hasn’t). He’s avery serious two-year-old and Jasper is the only one to get him to act silly.Likes to sit with Monty when he’s working on something in Raven’s workshop.Speaks no trig.

Modern universe: Strangely mature for a two year old. Likes to explain to Monty what he’s doing wrong when he brings work home. Likes juice boxes. Benny’s favourite shows are Elena of Avalor, Avatar: the Last Airbender, and Family Feud. He makes all the adults crack up with how serious he is all the time. Likes to wander about. Likes to wear a little suit and tie whenever he can. Loves going to work with Harper and Miller (everyone at the police precinct knows him). Loves Abby and Jaha because they talk to him like an adult and not a child. Takes tap lessons.

Poppy Reyes: Canon universe: 18. The product of a one night stand between Raven and Wick, nine months later Poppy Reyes (“yes Reyes, get off your high horse Wick”) is born, the spittingimage of her mother. Poppyis a stubborn, hot-headed mechanic/engineer. She works along side her parentsand Monty in all things mechanical. One of the only kids allowed to drive therover. Adopted her mother’s saying of “I can make it go boom.” Can beemotionally distant. Picked up diplomacy easily. Best friends with Ally Miller. Dancing around her feelings for Ace - but cares for him more than her own life. Her looks, and quite franklyher attitude, make her intimidating. Bellamy secretly teaches her targetpractice behind the ark after dark. Speaks minimal trig. Eligius lands when Poppy is 1 - she considers Zeke a second father.

Modern universe: Poppy Wick in this universe. Her parents are divorced. Lives with her mom (and her mom’s boyfriend Zeke). Sarcastic and stubborn. You would think she’s the Mom Friend but she’s too much of a wild child. Is wicked good at math, science and all that junk. She’s a stubborn hard-ass around everyone but Ace. Her and Ace have been dating since they were 16. They literally melt around each other. Spends basically all her time at the Murphy’s.

Camden Reyes: Canon universe: 8. He’s Zeke and Raven’s kid in this universe. Raven goes into labour early and Camden is born prematurely, he almost doesn’t makeit through the night but with Nyko’s help he does. Camdenlikes to sit in on council meetings and help his mom solve equations in her workshop. Best friends with Sabrina Murphy. He loves campfire stories and the old Wanheda legends (no oneknows its Clarke in those legends). Likes to listen to his dad talk about the Earth from before. Speaks no trig.

Modern universe: Camden Wick in this universe. Parents are divorced. Lives with his mom (and his moms boyfriend Zeke). Very kind person and has a natural curiosity. Idolizes his dad (Wick) and loves whenever he’s able to spend time with him. He loves hanging out with Sinclair at the mechanic shop. Loves building lego and loves computer games. He likes to go biking with the other boys but also loves singing karaoke at the Murphy house with Sabrina. He likes going to see Bryan because he makes the best cookies in the world. Loves when Octavia tells scary stories at the bonfire.

Send me a “🖊+an OC“ and I will talk about that OC!

#the 100 #the 100 kids #t100 kids #zaven #briller #marper #raven reyes #miles ezekiel shaw #zeke shaw #monty green #harper mcintyre #bryan the 100 #Nathan Miller #kyle wick #asks #next generation

4 notes · View notes

hazusreaderinserts · 5 years

Text

Legacy [Naruto Reader-Insert]

You’re a definitely Yamanaka, aren’t you?

Family and Village secrets run rampant. All you wanna do is survive long enough to see Naruto become Hokage and to find out who you really are.

[Fem! Reader x Various]

Warnings: Long plot, Slow-burn, the slowest of the burns.

Crossposted on Wattpad and Quotev Masterlist

Chapter 6 [STS Arc Ends]

Ino worries about you. You were quiet lately, talking only when spoken to. Father seemed worried about you too. He would ask her about you and why you seemed more out of it compared to your usual drive to improve your skills.

Ino didn't know that father was watching you closely. Father seems indifferent when you visit him in her home.

Anyways, you didn't even boast about how you can visit Sasuke freely without consequence?

It is definitely not something the normal you would pass up to do. You'd usually bait her with a couple of items you nicked from Sasuke's room so that she wouldn't stay angry at you. But zilch. Nada. Nothing.

"Ne, Shikamaru, Choji." She half-whispers to her cohorts sitting with her at the back of Iruka-sensei’s lectures about chakra and chakra points. Ino has learnt this back at home with some supplementary teamwork classes with the boys. Their fathers had been a team before them and they are going to be the next generation of Ino-Shika-Cho.

"Don't you think something is up with her lately?" She looks at the back of your head. You currently have an unfocused expression on your face, from what Ino could see. Like, you were looking at Iruka-sensei speak, but not really looking at him.

Both the boys know that she is talking about you.

Shikamaru doesn't lift his head from the comfortable position he had in the nook of one of his folded arms. He shuffles closer to Ino's side instead, "Women are so troublesome. I dunno, maybe she confessed to Sasuke and he turned her down, brutally." He touches Ino's elbow with his own. You haven't been coming over to pester him about shogi for a couple of months. While not unusual, it had been alarming.

He'll never say it but yes, he did indeed miss the girl you used to be before all this happened. He doesn't know what this is but he'd find out.

From a few rows down, Sasuke shuffles closer to the edge of the bench.

"No," Choji disagrees, popping a chip into his mouth, "She likes Itachi. Remember the time after the Festival? The part where she ambushed us after in your room and started gushing about how handsome he is?"

Sasuke straightens his back and moves back to his original position. Naruto notices the moving and turns around to make faces at the Uchiha boy.

Ino harrumphs at this point, "Yeah, she better not be stealing Sasuke away from me." She lets out a big sigh, well as big as she can without alerting Iruka-sensei that they're not paying attention to him.

Shikamaru's knuckles pop at the mention of Sasuke from Ino.

Sasuke and Naruto are already engaging in an all-out tussle in front of them. Naruto probably goaded Sasuke into a fight, the Nara boy deduces. His head is still down, but he could hear the confrontation go down.

Shikamaru isn't annoyed at their audible rivalry, however he thinks that they should pick a better place to do this.

"HORA, Naruto! Don't fight in my class!" The chalk flies from Iruka-sensei's hands so fast that it made an imprint on Naruto's forehead. The whole class sniggers and laughs at the Uzumaki's expense.

Shikamaru visualises Sasuke with that god-awful smug grin of his and it took every bone in his body not to stand up and sock him right then and there.

____

"Your performance in class has been slipping recently, "Iruka gently calls out your name. Your focus in class dropped and you didn't feel like you were altogether present when he was teaching.

The look in your eyes is something that he recognizes. He remembers looking like that when he looked into the mirror after his parents died. His fists tighten in his lap.

You just felt grim. And tired. Nothing is exciting to you anymore. You haven't eaten more than a handful of rice. You haven't been training as usual. Your grades are suffering and you don't know how they've managed to stay afloat even without much effort. Your hair is messy and unkempt and you barely paid attention to your personal hygiene, only dumping your body in the bath every couple of days.

You intercepted Shisui's suicide report from one of the Uchiha's messenger crows by accident a couple of days after that meeting and it broke you.

Suicide. It was suicide. They found a letter. He said somebody was going to kill him. Did he lie about his own death? That's not possible. Shisui had no tells. But then again you couldn't tell if he lied to you. Not then, not ever. Liar.

It had been... how many months since?

Oh, three- no, four months since. Time just passes by and you aren't in the right state of mind to keep track of menial things like those anymore. You remember the feeling in your heart when you got the report like it was yesterday. Your mind has been reliving the memory like it was your lifeline to whatever connection you had left to him.

You remember the one sentence that you thought of repeatedly like a mantra in your mind;

I want to die.

The warmth of Iruka's hand on your shoulder brought you back to the present. His hands were just as big as your brothers'. Like Shisui's. You wonder if you were looking for a father figure to replace the void in your heart. The bile at the back of your throat threatens to rise. You stare into your sensei's eyes.

His eyes were a nice shade of chestnut brown, almost golden under the rays of the afternoon sun and you've noticed this ever since the first time he herds your entire class to the training grounds outside on a particularly bright afternoon. And something hits you.

Eyes. Black eyes. Black like the midnight sky. Sky. Moon. Red Moon.

Itachi.

"Thank you for your concern Iruka-sensei, but I have to go." Your body shot up from the chair. You scrounge up as much chakra as you can and shunshin halfway across the village.

"Wait, I still have something to sa-" Iruka doesn't get to finish his sentence before your form disappears from the classroom.

____

Shisui's shunshin is vastly different from the normal shunshin that you know. Brother's shunshin technique felt much different too.

It feels like your entire body is tugged forward by a large rope twisted around yout torso. A chakra rope. The sensation made your coils itch like a thousand mosquito bites. It was a mishmash of colours from the scenery again. Greenblueredgreenblueredgreenblueredbeigebeigebeige. And you land where you needed to be.

The strain of chakra overuse makes your insides burn.

A dango shop in one of the dingy alleyways of Konoha. Itachi is in there, sitting with people whom you assume to be his friends, and his girlfriend? They look close but you are a kunoichi on a mission. You don't care whether you interrupt their date or not.

You storm your little body into the shop as scary as a seven year old can be and drag Itachi out. The sudden rush of adrenaline through your system gave you the push you needed for that act of bravado. You have to know. No, you need to know the truth.

You ask him, and he denies everything.

His features look strained. And there was that look in his face that made you think that he was lying. Raised eyebrows that stayed raised a tad bit too long. Black pools for eyes that reflected something else longer than it needed to.

Itachi is a polite boy. A nice boy. His nice and polite attitude creates a wall of distance. He is a nice, polite, emotionally distant boy with pretty, pretty eyes and no tells or weak spots at all when it comes to his mask, when he lies to Sasuke about not being able to spend time with him, when he lies about not knowing what happened with Shisui.

But today he does.

There is a crack in his mask and you needed to know why.

____

Bodies in black, blue and gray are strewn across the courtyard and the floor is dyed crimson red with blood. Sable struggles to keep himself from vomiting inside of his mask. It'd be a dick to wash out. The grisly sight before him doesn't really sit well in his stomach. What happened here?

Some buildings are up in flames while others were beginning to crumble from the holes and cracks in their walls.

Only one phrase could describe the carnage before him; it is a massacre. Who did this? Who had the capacity to murder all these people who didn't fight back.

They didn't fight back. None of the blood splatters on the floor suggest a struggle happening, or a scuffle, or a fight. It is like whoever did this just plainly slide their sword between their rib-cages, across their throats into their clavicles without them knowing.

Or they willingly walked into the blade.

How did they wipe out the Konoha Military Police force too?

He feels his chakra tingling in his coils. His joints pop as his muscles tense into action. Sable's body, black cloak, sword and all moves before he hears the soft tachikaze from the blade behind him. he jumps and lands on the grass, one knee and hand on the ground, a couple of meters behind.

A familiar boy with a low ponytail and a ninjato in his hand. The mist that hangs in the air obscures his face. It makes his red eyes look terrifying. But the expression on his face. It's not what he expects it to be. His sharingan tomoe circles around his irises in a slow and hypnotizing pace.

The boy pauses where he stands. A long moment passes and the grass crunches beneath his feet, the sound slow and drawn out. Another step. Crunch. And another. Crunch. Crunch, crunch, crunch. Crunchcrunchcrunchcrunch. Then there are no more crunches, only a sharp whistling of a blade in the air.

Sable's fingers circle around the hilt of the sword on his side. His breath growing ragged from the lack of chakra in his reserves. He just got back from a mission outside Konoha and he'd have taken a soldier pill or something if he knew he was going to fight Uchiha Itachi, the Uchiha Prodigy, Weasel.

His colleague. The person he trusted his kid sister with. Youngest person to have made ANBU commander at 13.

Overuse of his sword has consumed most of his life force and he is now on his last legs. Any more and she will consume him.

He feels the grooves between the roughness of the cord-string on the hilt, he feels how heavy the weight of the sword is in his hands and he hears the metal of his blade singing as he pulls it out of the sheath with a practiced swing.

Both of their blades clash and a bright ray of chakra shoots up into the sky with an ear-crackling boom.

The shockwave that soon follows blows the rubble away from beneath him. The last thing Sable knows is Itachi's feet approaching him slowly, and the rain droplets falling onto his half-closed eyelids before he falls unconscious.

____

Naruto gasps as he sees the bright light go up into the sky. He was alone at his dingy apartment when he saw it. His first thought is that they were getting attacked. His second, is that the light is breathtakingly beautiful. The mist that came with the rain dimmed the light a little. His little potted plants by the windowsill will be happy with the moisture.

The light looks familiar. Like something he was really fond of a long, long time ago. Something in him moves and he feels happy? The emotion that he feels... It's a comfort that he's never felt before.

Naruto wonders what that light is.

____

Hound shunshins towards the Uchiha district, where Sable is, as fast as he can. A trail of leaves in his wake. His body blurs past the buildings and the forest until he reaches the unmoving body of his ward. He is too late. Sable lies there in the middle of the dead bodies, a dark red wound in his stomach. It's almost invisible against the black cloak they all wear.

Not again. Not another comrade. He can't save Sable like how he couldn't save him.

His heart pounds in his chest. Thud. Thud. Thud. Flashbacks of the Third Shinobi War plays in his head over and over and over again. His breath hitches in his throat. He hears a ringing in his ears and-

A puff of air slips from between the cracks of Sable's mask and a large wave of relief surges through Hound's body like a tsunami of the new Icha Icha books in his room. Hound presses his bare fingers on Sable's neck and he feels a pulse. He cradles his arm under Sable's neck and lifts him up in a princess-carry. Hound is sure that you will use this as blackmail if you saw them like that.

He is lucky that you aren't there.

Sable's whole hand hangs loosely by his body but the sword in his hand sticks to his palm and doesn't fall off. Even if his fingers were not fully on the hilt.

Hound feels his shinobi training kicking in and his emotions subside. He has to find who did this. And he needs to find them. Fast.

2 notes · View notes

thingr1 · 5 years

Text

Focus on the Fallout (2/2)

Rating: T

Warnings: Depression, suicidal thoughts, past suicide attempt.

Characters: Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, basically entire Batfam.

Preview: *See first chapter*

Cross posted: FFN and AO3 (6-16-17). (A/N found on both sites)

Prequels: Of Milkshakes and Marathons (recommended, but not necessary) and Weighing One’s Worth (essential to understanding story.)

First Chapter: Here

It wasn't hard to tell that something was wrong.

The family—this dysfunctional, emotionally constipated family—was acting strange. More distant than normal.

Whispered conversations that ended the moment Tim crossed the threshold. Flashes of emotion caught by the corners of his eyes every time Tim glanced away. Shadows of footprints outside the door of whatever room Tim happened to be slouched in. Flutters of movement and spots of color (black, blue, red) in the darkness, tailing him as he patrolled.

That had been Tim’s reality for the past two weeks.

Everyone trying to pretend everything was normal, yet side eying Tim like something fragile, something broken, when they thought he was looking the other way.

There was only one possible explanation for this collectively strange behavior.

They knew. Every single one. And if it wasn't for the fact that he was probably (definitely) under tight surveillance at the moment, he would seriously consider another bullet to his brain from shame. Maybe jump off the roof. That is, if embarrassment itself didn't beat him to the punch.

Sinking back against the mattress of his too-big bed, Tim sighed to the blank white ceiling.

Why? Dick's big mouth... Just, why?

Tim knew Dick was only trying to help. But the thing was, they weren't Dick's secrets to share. Heck, even Damian betrayed him in the end—to the loosest jaw of the Wayne bunch, no less—when push came to shove. Which…actually wasn’t that surprising.

He felt like he was walking on eggshells. Like an outsider—no, a pretender in his own home. As if he'd ever really called Wayne Manor his home in the first place...

Tim hated feeling this exposed, baring his soul to the world. This was going to come back to bite him, someone was going to take advantage of him all over again. And Tim didn’t think he could take it.

Because at the heart of it all, that was his problem, wasn’t it? Whenever he let anyone in, they either died or threw him away; in each sense, they betrayed him. And he was so so tired of it all. Which was a much more selfish admission than he usually allowed himself. (Then again, Tim had tried to kill himself a week ago, which kind of took the cake.)

But yet…at the same time…why did it feel like a huge weight had been taken off his shoulders? He shouldn’t be this relieved to have just unloaded his truckload of problems onto Dick Grayson’s shoulders.

Dick Grayson.

Who had taken Robin from him without even asking. Who had, how many years later, apologized for it. Had stopped pretending that everything between them was right as rain and outright admitted he was in the wrong.

It was mortifying.

Tim had failed somewhere. He had to’ve.

It probably had something to do with the fact he’d tried to off himself in the middle of the Manor, the one place where all the Bats could come and go as they pleased. The one place where there were eyes everywhere. It was careless of Tim to even think of attempting what he had in such a public place.

Unless…

Had…had he wanted someone to find him? Maybe…maybe that was why…

Tim shook his head violently, turning his face into his pillow in embarrassment.

No. He wasn’t going to psychoanalyze himself now. He’d tried to kill himself. It didn’t take. Now it was just a question of moving on.

…Which would have been so much simpler if his family’s actions didn’t make it that much more impossible to compartmentalize the self-destructive feelings back into a deep, dark corner of Tim’s mind that life usually kept him too busy to explore.

And yet, Tim couldn’t help the faint glow of hope that was slowly eating away at the darkness in his core. Maybe…maybe this time Dick would come through. Maybe this time would be different; maybe they could heal. If only that feeling wasn’t so often crushed by the realities of life. Then maybe Tim could bear to give it a chance.

No, he decided. Better to forget. Better to forget than to give his family the opportunity to screw up enough so Tim would have to juggle forgiving them (again) on top of it all, too. He’d figure this out on his own. Like he always did.

Without warning, his door slammed back on its hinges.

Tim’s skin prickled, muscles seizing, panic shredding through every inch of his flesh in the form of adrenaline as he whirled, wild-eyed, to face the intruder.

Damian stood in the doorway, arms crossed over he chest, giving Tim a strange sense of déjà vu.

"Your presence is required downstairs, Drake,” the child reported, pompous as always.

Tim glared. (Internal terror revealing itself in a rather Jason Todd style: Anger.) “For what? An interrogation?”

Damian snorted. "Nothing so crude. It is…” The boy’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “‘Family Bonding,’ Grayson is calling it. Everyone is required to attend.”

"And why should I trust you?” The words spilled out before Tim could stop them.

The former assassin’s eyes narrowed. Assessing.

After a moment, Damian’s jaw set, cobalt eyes almost glaring in their intensity. "I swear to you that no one is judging you for your moment of weakness. In fact, if I see so much as a pitying glance, I will mash that person’s nose into their face myself. Just…come downstairs. Please.”

Which was…actually half-decent as far as politeness went for the demon child.

Tim…hesitated. A trap. It had to be… No.

Those eyes so like his father’s screamed sincerity, even though Damian’s features remained studiously blank. Though he was many things, Damian Wayne was not a liar. Something Tim both hated and respected about the fifth Robin.

And after…that night…something between the two of them had changed. For the first time since they’d met, they understood each other; they’d caught a glimpse of who they were behind the masks and facades. Their insecurities exposed to the person they hated most.

It was…freeing somehow.

(Dick had always told him that all Damian wanted was acceptance; and for the first time, Tim might just believe it.)

No. Damian wouldn’t betray him like this. (Not again, anyway.) The others, on the other hand…

“Promise?” The word slipped out before Tim could stop it; small. Shaky. Weak.

Damian inclined his head. “You have my word.” Solemn. Straightforward. (So unlike his father.)

Tim sucked in a breath. Bit his lip. Squared his shoulders. “Fine.”

He was going to regret this.

The journey downstairs seemed to pass far too quickly. And yet, at the same time, it stretched long enough that Tim had far too much time to think.

Tim couldn't...shouldn't...didn't want to face his family. Didn’t want to see the looks on their faces at the realization that their toy soldier was broken; unusable.

…Was he broken? Wasn’t that the question of a lifetime. One that Tim really didn’t care to answer; now, or ever.

Moving on.

(Why’d he even bother with a gun? His own brain was going to be the death of him.)

With a blink, Tim jerked back into reality as Damian slid into the lit doorway on the right of the hallway that Tim recognized as the living room without looking back. Clearly expecting Tim to follow.

Tim sucked in a breath. No. Don’t think about it.

Do this. He could do this.

Breath huffing in an almost sigh, Tim stepped around the doorframe and…

Everyone was looking at him.

And when he said everyone, he meant everyone. Dick, Damian, Alfred, Barbara, Steph, Cass, Jason, Titus.

Bruce.

The whole gang was here.

And they were staring.

Heat barely had time to brush Tim’s cheeks before the whole room erupted.

“Timmy!”

“Tim.”

“So good of you to join us, Master Tim.”

“‘Bout time you got here, the popcorn’s almost cold!”

“Hey, mind breaking the tie for us? We’ve narrowed it down to Monsters Inc. or Frozen…”

“Frozen?! Who said Frozen? I voted Inside Out!”

Through the cacophony of sound, lights, and general confusion, Cass materialized at his side, squeezing him in a hug, whispering “Love you,” and guiding him through the mass of people, popcorn, soda cans, pillows (from the bedrooms?), and movie cases to the couch before Tim could fully process what was happening.

And then Jason was wedged on the cushion next to him, throwing an arm over his shoulders. “Come on, Baby Bird, help me out here. Inside Out or Frozen?”

Tim blinked. Still in shock. “Tangled.”

Jason scowled. “Wow. You’re helpful.” Then, serious, poking Tim none too gently in the ribs, he hissed: “Bullets have more calories than milkshakes, y'know. Talk about hard to work off."

Tim flushed, a combination anger and embarrassment snapping him from his reverie. “That bar was a one time thing, Jay! I swear, is this going to keep coming up in every conversation?"

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Just so long as I never catch you at it again.” Then, in a low mutter Tim almost had to strain to hear: ”Call someone next time you start feeling self-destructive, 'kay, Baby Bird? We’ve all been there. We can help.“

Tim ducked his head; mortified (touched). "O...okay. Yeah."

Jason slapped Tim's shoulder with his free hand, reeling him in so Tim’s face smashed into him in a…a hug. "Good. We're marathoning Harry Potter next."

And...Tim's lips quirked upward. "Haven't seen those in awhile."

"Exactly, Tim. Exactly."

Dick Grayson’s voice suddenly erupted in his ear, causing Tim to jump: “Tim! Timmy! You voted Frozen, right?”

Jason stared, stiffening under Tim’s weight. “So you’re the one.”

Dick’s eyes widened. “Uh. No?”

The second Robin growled, reverberating through his chest where Tim’s face was still half smushed. “What did I tell you about Frozen?”

Dick’s eyes twinkled with the mischievous light that always preceded a particularly self-endangering statement: “That I need to ‘let it go’?”

There was a moment of pure, icy silence. Two. Three.

Broken by a laugh.

A laugh.

From Tim’s own mouth.

Another burst from his mouth without his consent. Then another. Suddenly, Tim was gripping his sides, tears welling in his eyes, shaking from the force of his own laughter.

Everyone was staring at Tim again, this time in open surprise; joy, fondness, maybe mixed with some concern for his mental health.

And for once, Tim didn’t mind it. Still chuckling, he snagged the pillow from the couch arm and rammed it into the nearest face: Dick Grayson’s. “Stuff that in your big mouth, Dick!”

There was a pause.

Then a mad cackle rent the air as Jason Todd hefted another pillow over his head. “You deserved that, Dickie!” Slammed the stunned man’s face with the makeshift weapon so hard, the seams burst. Tim almost winced.

Almost.

“Pillow fight!” Steph screamed gleefully, swiping an ancient throw pillow and slinging it into Jason in the same instant as Damian slung a blanket into the man’s abdomen. “For Arendelle!”

The room devolved into chaos as the rest of the family joined in; pillows flying, blankets cracking like whips, popcorn scattering.

And as the feathers swirled in the air around them, laughter carrying them to the ceiling, Tim realized that maybe—just maybe—he could stand to call this crazy mess of a family (life) his own after all.

1 note · View note