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maccreadysbaby · 7 hours

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A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

the one chapter in this whole fic where bentley makes a rational decision

part thirty-nine

❝ UNLOVABLE ❞

TUESDAY — SEPTEMBER 8 — 11:07 AM

BENTLEY WOKE UP SO DISORIENTED AND FUZZY AND CONFUSED THAT HE JUST STARTED CRYING.

There were bright white lights in his face, and he wasn’t in his bed anymore, he was somewhere else. There were people moving around him, but he didn’t pay attention long enough to decide who, only long enough to decide he was terrified and wanted Bruce. What time was it? No idea. What day was it? No idea. Was he at the hospital? Was something really wrong with him?

“Whoa, hey… hey there, chum. You’re okay,”

Bentley relished in the familiar voice, peeling his heavy, kind of sticky, newly-wet eyes open to glance around the room. It took a solid minute for his brain to catch up to his vision, but when it did, he realized he was in the cave, and Bruce was sitting right next to the bed he was laying in.

He tried to bring his hands up to hide his crying eyes, but paused mid-movement when he realized he was attached to a drip.The movement also seemed to trigger a wave of soreness that washed through his whole body.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay. Just relax. You’re here, with me, in the cave. Everything’s okay,” Bruce spoke in his typical level, gentle tone, one of his hands landing on Bentley’s forehead like it always seemed to. Though, for some reason, he looked… really tired. Worn down.

Bentley breathed in and out shakily, gathering his bearings, trying to stop crying for no reason for the five millionth time in his short life. (Seriously, he had to be setting a record at this point.) Instead, he relaxed back down onto the bed and let Bruce card his fingers through his hair.

“Where’s… Nico?” Was the first thing he managed to whisper.

Bruce got a strange look on his face, before he replied: “Bentley… you’ve been down here for five days. Nico and Asten went home. It’s Tuesday.”

Bentley blinked a few times. It was Tuesday? He had been… he had been completely out of it for five whole days?

He looked around the empty room warily. “What? What happened?”

Bruce sighed softly, brushing his opposite hand through his own hair. “Someones been fiddling with your DNA, and it made you pretty sick.”

Oh. Right. Superpowers. Bentley looked down at his own feet under the cottony blanket, exhaling subtly.

“Bentley,”

He looked back up at Bruce, who had a little smile on his face.

“I will never, ever, ever get rid of you,” He reassured, sighing lightly. “I promise.”

Bentley looked down at his hands, exhaling shakily before he muttered: “My… my father told me… he never loved me. And, uh, that he never would.”

Bruce stayed silent for a moment.

Bentley breathed in and out. It was now or never, wasn’t it? The hard questions had to be asked so things could be fixed, right? “Will you tell me the truth?”

“Of course, bud. Anything,”

Bentley twiddled his fingers, purposefully keeping his eyes away from Bruce when he whispered: “Why is it so hard for people to love me?”

Bruce’s blue eyes grew grim, and he scooted his chair closer to the bed with a squeak. “Bentley Whittaker, you are not hard to love. In fact, you’re almost impossible not to love.”

Bentley looked away, breathing in to force away the urge to cry. “Then why doesn’t he love me?”

Bruce sighed lightly. “That’s his own choice, his own problem. It has nothing to do with you. You are an incredible, brave, amazing kid, Bentley, and I loved you the very first day Dick brought you to me.”

A moment of silence passed.

“Hey,” Bruce continued, his hand moving through Bentley’s hair again, and the child finally looked over at him with slightly glassy eyes. “You could set the whole world on fire and I’d still tell everybody you’re mine.”

Bentley looked down at his feet, blinking rapidly as his eyes began to burn. Did that mean that maybe Bruce wouldn’t hate him for all the things he did? And he wouldn’t get rid of him? And he could stay and keep living with them even though he was an emotional, irrational trainwreck of a child?

Bentley sniffled. “I’m…” Cold? Lonely? Tired of lying? “Can you hold me?”

In one smooth movement, minding the IV tubes, Bentley was with Bruce in the chair.

A few moments of silence passed.

“I wish you were my father,”

A few beats came and went, and Bruce kissed Bentley’s hair.

“I am,”

Oh, God — there it was. The one statement that utterly broke Bentley. That changed something inside of him just like his real father’s statement had. Something cracked. Something moved.

And so Bentley did what Bentley had been so determined not to do for literal weeks.

“You promise you won’t hate me?” He muttered into Bruce’s shirt, making himself small there, tucking his knees up.

“I could never hate you, Bentley,”

Bentley breathed in and out. Once. Twice. Three times. Maybe it really was the right time. Maybe he really should do it — just get it over with. Nico would’ve done it. It was good. It would make everything better, right? Right?

“I wasn’t kidnapped,” Is what he started out with, but then backtracked, because that was not a great place to start. “I mean, no, I was. I was. But, the… uh… the night you guys thought I went missing I actually… uh… I ran away.”

Bruce said nothing, but didn’t make a disapproving sound or expression, either. So Bentley continued.

“I guess… uh… I guess it really started back when… right before school. Or right after, I can’t remember. Something was wrong with Damian. And I tried to talk to him but he got mad…” Bentley cleared his throat. “He told me I wasn’t worthy enough to be a Wayne. That I didn’t belong here and you only had me because you felt bad for me.”

At that, Bruce let out a little sigh.

“I think he was kind of sad, I dunno… I know he didn’t really want to hurt me. I think. But he did anyways,” Bentley shook his head. “And I started looking at everybody, at Dick and Jason and Tim and Damian and Cass and Steph and Duke and… Y’know. They’re all superheroes. Really cool superheroes. And a bunch of them were Robin, and I obviously can’t be Robin, but… I… I had to do something, you know? I wanted to be good enough. So… uh… Asten and Nico and I decided that… uh… we were going to go after the Secret Keeper. Because I could prove that I belonged here if I caught a villain like you guys do.”

“So you left, in pursuit of her?” Bruce inquired gently.

Bentley nodded. “Yeah. Asten found some connections between the missing people and the Areopagus and Dr. Keene, my teacher, and found this cabin in the woods that he owned that a bunch of the victims had stayed in, so we went to check it out. Which… sounds pretty random and dumb, now, I guess…”

Silence passed.

“Uh… he found all that out by finding all the locations of where the people went missing and… uh… well. We kinda… stole Dr. Keene’s phone to get to the cabin schedules and stuff…” Bentley fiddled with his fingers awkwardly. “I know it was bad… but we wanted to help. So, uh, we met up at Nico’s house and started going to the cabin.”

Bentley exhaled heavily. Telling the truth felt strangely… good.

“We walked for a long time, and stopped by Asten’s house in Crime Alley for him to get something, and that was when Nico told me he was adopted and when I realized he had superpowers. Real ones — he has superspeed. And, well, that didn’t go over so well. He was… is really struggling with it. But, uh, anyways, Asten came back and then the Secret Keeper knocked me out and showed me all kinds of futures. Ones where I die, where I work with my father, where I was Robin… and she told me my choice to go to the cabin would lock me in and out of some. So I chose to keep going.”

Bruce still didn’t respond, keeping the door open for Bentley to continue.

“We broke into the cabin. And, uh, it looked pretty normal… at first. And then we found a trapdoor that led to the basement. Asten told me it was called a morgue,” Bentley shivered at the thought. “We opened up one of the fridges and… it was scary. I had an anxiety attack. Nico threw up in the floor. But Asten was fine, I think, and there was this computer down there that had tons of videos on it. Of our teacher, Dr. Keene, working in these labs, turning normal people into metahumans. The first one he did was his own daughter, Charlie Reins… who became The Secret Keeper. And he mind controls them all.”

Bruce exhaled.

“A bunch of the missing kids were in those videos, like Titus Lancaster and Davis Henderson. And we learned that… that… Dr. Keene was… is working for… my father. Trying to destroy you. That’s why the Secret Keeper has been attacking us. Because of me…” Bentley inhaled sharply. “Anyways, we were down there and we heard someone coming, so… we… hid in some of the fridges. Which wasn’t fun. I don’t remember much from then because I was freaking out. We ran out of the cabin and everyone was scared and Asten got his foot stuck in a bear trap and we were trying to help him and then there was a grenade and we all got knocked out.”

Bentley exhaled, sort of shaky, cringing at himself. Word vomiting wasn’t usually something people liked, but Bruce didn’t seem to mind.

“And I woke up in a warehouse, but I wasn’t actually there because it was just the Secret Keeper. I saw Jason die, and it… was really scary. I… I saw you. And I begged you to bring me home but it wasn’t really you…” Bentley fought back another round of stinging in his eyes and forced himself to get it together. “Then I woke up. Davis Henderson, the waiter that got knocked out at that bar because of me, he was there and he got me out of the machine before they could do mind control, he said.”

Bruce nodded slightly. “I remember hearing about Davis.”

“Yeah. He has to wear these super huge metal gloves now, because he kills anything he touches. His mind control was broken. So he got me out, and then we went to get Nico and Asten. And I got shot. Which was scary. And… he told us about Titus Lancaster, who can teleport, and he was going to have surgery to get new mind control so he didn’t have it then. And Davis told us to find him and that he could teleport us out,” He explained. “So we ran for a while. Lots of people were killed. Davis killed a lot of bad guys that were shooting at us, and… Nico did, too, but he didn’t mean to. He has air powers now that can make you choke.”

Bruce hummed.

“But when we were running out the Secret Keeper showed up. So Davis told us to run and he fought her. I’m not sure what happened but I hope he’s okay. He saved me…” Bentley cleared his throat. “But we found Titus, who was really scared, and he teleported us to the manor. And Asten told us not to tell anyone so I… didn’t. And you know everything that’s happened since I got home. Oh — except… I went to see my father to try and convince him to stop, but he said no. And that if I told anybody anything I knew he’d use a plan b that would destroy all of Gotham. But I don’t know what it is. Oh, and Asten has fire powers. And… I guess that’s everything you didn’t know.”

Bentley sighed and looked up at Bruce, who looked near-emotionless, processing all of the information he’d just had dumped in his lap.

“I… I know those things were bad, and that I should’ve told you, and that I did a lot of things I shouldn’t have done, but please, please, please don’t get rid of me. I’ll be better — I won’t do anything bad again. Please don’t-“

“Bentley,”

The Bentley in question was starting to cry again. “Please don’t get rid of me, Bruce. I promise I’ll be better. I promise. You can get me in trouble and yell at me and lock me up or hit me like my dad used to, but please just don’t get rid of me.”

“Bentley. Look at me please,”

Begrudgingly, Bentley looked up, his brown, watery eyes meeting Bruce’s icy blue ones.

“Please don’t get rid of me. I love you,”

Bruce breathed in and out. “Here’s what I have to say, okay? You’re right. Some of those things you did were risky, reckless, dangerous, and wrong, and you were impressively, almost stupidly brave to do them. All because you want to be loved and accepted and validated.”

Bentley looked down, wiping at his furiously leaking eyes with his non-dripped hand.

“Do you want to know what one of the most defining traits of a Wayne is?” Bruce questioned, glancing down at Bentley with a smile that threw the child for a loop. “Being impressively and stupidly brave, and doing things that are risky, reckless, dangerous, and wrong, all because you want to be loved and accepted and validated.”

Bentley said nothing.

“Every single person in this family, Bentley, has done something like this. Even me. Some of us more than once. And while I can’t say I’m thrilled about what you did or what you went through… You survived, you told me the truth, and you were trying to do the right thing. And, I’d have to say, all things considered, I’m pretty proud of that,” Bruce stated with a smile. “I am proud of you, Bentley. And I love you. So. Much. You’re pretty much stuck with me whether you like it or not.”

Bentley had never felt more relieved in his entire short life. Bruce loved him, and he wasn’t going to get rid of him, and he wasn’t mad at him… what kind of fever dream was this? How was it going just like Bentley hoped it would?

“Hey, bud, I want to ask you something. And I want you to be totally, completely honest, okay? Your answer needs to be yours and only yours,”

Bentley nodded slightly, still wiping at his eyes.

Bruce breathed in deep, running a hand over the child’s head with this fond gleam in his eyes that before now, Bentley could have only dreamed of.

“You’ve been living here for almost a year. Fostering for over half of it,” Bruce exhaled. “I think this is as good of a time as any to ask… how do you feel about being adopted, like Dick, Jason, and Tim?”

Bentley freaking lost his mind.

(In the arms of his dad?)

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere @beatyoutothatusernameloser

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maccreadysbaby · 15 hours

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do you guys even realize… we’re only maybe five or six chapters away from the end of a hundred ways??????? Mind boggling

#batfamily #batman #oc; bentley #oc; bentley whittaker #mb; a hundred ways to become a wayne

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maccreadysbaby · 15 hours

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the marker of a batkid, even after several iterations of costumes and identities, is a bearing of something almost like nobility. they hold themselves like the Bat — like they think they’re better than you. they are better than you, but most of them are still too polite to say that.

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maccreadysbaby · 15 hours

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Happy death day Jason Todd! In celebration I’m going to continue writing a story where it never happened 🥰

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maccreadysbaby · 2 days

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I just realized all my fallout mutuals and followers have now basically joined a batman blog and I’m not sorry

it’s called being ✨cultured✨ babe

#fallout 4 #fallout #batboys #batfamily #batman

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maccreadysbaby · 2 days

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of course I’ll add you!!!

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: anxiety attacks

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

yall this is the chapter i’ve been waiting for

part thirty-eight

❝ AIR AND FIRE AND WATER (OH MY) ❞

THURSDAY — SEPTEMBER 3 — 1:00 PM

BENTLEY WAS SILENT ALL THE WAY HOME. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. Other than the fact he was pretty much at a standstill regarding his father and the Secret Keeper and all that jazz, he was starting to feel strange. Like a part of him had been ripped out and thrown into the Gotham Harbor. Like one of his organs had been removed and replaced by one that didn’t fit quite right — like something wrong was inside of him now.

It was like he could feel his blood pumping in his veins. The entire car ride, he could hear it in his ears. He could hear the gasoline swishing in Jason’s gas tank. He could feel the windshield washing liquid like it was a part of him when Jason cleaned the bugs off the window. He could feel Jason’s blood pumping through Jason’s veins.

What the hell was wrong with him?

The wrongness just kept getting wronger when they pulled up at the Manor, because it went from Jason and Jason’s car to feeling the water moving through the whole house. Like he had an ear against every pipe in the Manor, listening to the liquid swish and move. He knew where it was. Where it was going. He knew where each and every toilet and sink and shower and fridge was from exactly where he was sitting in Jason’s car. Where every saline bag and liquid medicine and electrolyte drink was sitting in the cave. The drip Asten was on, how much was left in it, and every single time it dripped.

Why the hell did he know that?

Jason said something to him when he got out of the car, but he didn’t hear it. It sounded like there was a waterfall inside the Manor. When he went through the door, it just got worse — he could hear every bead, droplet, every liquid in the house screaming and sloshing and moving and churning and bubbling. He could feel it like it was all inside of him, like it was him, like he was made out of water. He could hear his blood moving. He could hear Jason’s blood. Asten’s blood. Nico’s blood. Bruce and Alfred and Dick and Damian and the animals and Duke and everything — could feel the blood, the water, everything. He could feel everything.

He walked up the stairs one step at a time, every rational thought — every thought at all — literally drowned out by the sound. The feelings. He felt like he was going to explode. Like he was going to die. By the time he got to the top of the stairs, he was shaking, and breathing wasn’t as easy as it should’ve been. Why did he feel so wrong? So wrong? So wrong?

His mind kinda-sorta came back to him when he ran face-first into someone in the hall. Someone with a purple hoodie and black sweatpants.

When Dick Grayson looked down at him, Bentley started crying.

“Whoa, hey there, kiddo, what’s wrong?” Dick questioned, kneeling down to the child’s height, his crystalline blue gaze bouncing around Bentley’s face. His hair was wet and floppy like he’d just showered, and it reminded him of the first night he ever met Dick Grayson in the pouring rain.

Bentley could hardly think enough to make a coherent sentence. Air wasn’t coming in or out right, and he was crying and sad and so overwhelmed, why could he hear everything? “I-I don’t fee-feel right.” Was what he ended up saying, wiping frantically at his eyes. (Stuttering, more like.)

Dick breathed in, a sad expression coming across his features. “I think you’re having a panic attack, buddy. Just breathe with-“

“No! Not that,” Bentley argued, batting away Dick’s hands that had been coming for his arms. “Something inside of me. I-I feel like I’m going to die. I think I… I- think I’m about to die.”

A few words were shared between Dick and someone else, and in one fluid movement, Bentley was picked up and deposited on a bed. But hadn’t they just been in the hallway? He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything. The only thing he did know was that everything hurt and he couldn’t breathe and it was so loud.

“Bentley, buddy, tell me what doesn’t feel right,” Dick ordered. Bentley was sitting on the edge of a bed (whose bed? No clue.), halfway in reality, half in his own world of blurry confusing pain. Dick was in front of him, his hands were searching Bentley’s frame for anything abnormal. Jason was near the closed door.

Between the crying and the panicking and the not working lungs, he couldn’t breathe. “Everything. Everything feels wrong.”

Jason said something about Bentley’s dad, but he didn’t really hear him. Dick was touching his shoulders.

“Bentley, keep talking to me,” He pleaded, rubbing Bentley’s arms lightly. He turned to Jason with a subtle: “Go get Bruce.”

Jason left the room.

Bentley couldn’t focus enough to do much of anything. With a groan of… desperation, maybe? He brought his hands up and covered his ears, trying to drown out all the noise. There was so much noise. Too much noise.

After an indecipherable amount of time passed, someone else was touching Bentley. Bigger hands, stronger grip. He peeled his eyes open just long enough to see Bruce’s face in front of him, icy blue eyes scanning him mechanically, robotically. His mouth moved but Bentley couldn’t hear him over the crashing waves in his own head.

Gently, his hands were removed from his ears. “Hey there, chum, it’s Bruce. Do you think you can tell me what’s going on?” He was doing a pretty good job masking the concern in his voice, but Bentley heard it anyways.

“I-I can… I…” Bentley choked on a few words and sobs at the same time, his hands shaking like leaves where they sat in Bruce’s grip. “I can… hear… I-I can feel… everything.”

Bentley thought he heard something in the room bang or pop, but he wasn’t sure, he couldn’t exactly hear very good. Bruce suddenly got a strange look on his face, and Jason and Dick, who were behind him, looked stunned.

“B, his eyes-”

“Shh,” Bruce ordered, one of his hands coming up to rest on the side of Bentley’s head. “It’s okay, chum. You’re going to be okay. Just look at me.”

Bentley looked at him as best he could through the tears and panic. He tried not to pay attention to Dick, who walked over to the bathroom door looking really, really confused.

“Breathe with me,” Bruce tried. He took a deep, calculated breath, and Bentley tried to follow suit. It only sort of worked. The roaring in his head wasn’t fading. If anything, it was starting to sound more… real?

“What the f-”

“Jason!”

Bentley’s attention broke away from Bruce just in time for him to glance at the closed bathroom door — was he in Dick’s room? — and see water. Water, just gushing out from under the door like the crack at the bottom was a pressure washer, straight into the bedroom and all over the floor.

“Bruce-“

“Bentley, just look at me,”

Bentley did. He just looked at Bruce, tracing the fractals of blue in his eyes, focusing on every hair in his eyebrows, every shade of his skin. Bentley just looked at Bruce as the water started to climb the legs of the bed like a slithering snake, curling and wrapping around until it made it onto the mattress. Dick and Jason were standing off to the side, stunned into silence. Bentley just looked at Bruce.

Bentley continued to just look at Bruce as the water started floating — yes, floating, actually suspended in the air — around the room. Some of it crawled up the walls like vines, some spun and danced in the middle of the air like trees in the breeze. It was getting easier to breathe. The roaring was getting quieter.

“That’s it, you’re okay,” Bruce uttered, his hand moving gently in Bentley’s hair. “You’re okay.”

Bentley finally broke his gaze to glance upward. There was water on the ceiling, spinning and churning in intricate swirls and designs there, and water floating through the air in strands like string. It was moving on the walls, the floor, the furniture like snakes.

Bruce rubbed a hand over his hair. “That’s it. There you go.”

Bentley breathed in deeply, hiccuping lightly, his brown eyes tracing the flying water. “Bruce…”

“It’s okay,”

He wasn’t… this wasn’t… he wasn’t doing that, was he? He couldn’t be. He wasn’t a metahuman. He hadn’t been in the machine long enough, Davis had said so. He was just Bentley. Just normal Bentley.

Normal Bentley focused on one specific snake of water on the ceiling. He imagined it moving left, and it went left. He imagined it moving right, and it went right. He imagined an intricate, beautiful chandelier, hanging from the ceiling, made entirely of water, and the liquid morphed and moved until it became that. Chains, dangling crystals, and metal galore, all shaped from crystal clear water.

“Oh my God,” Jason muttered. He and Dick were staring at the chandelier made of pure water, but Bruce wasn’t. Bruce was still looking at Bentley.

The water slowly moved from the chandelier back to its spot swirling on the ceiling.

There was absolutely no way Bentley was doing that. Right? There couldn’t be. He couldn’t be.

As a last ditch effort to prove that he wasn’t controlling the water, he imagined it going back where it came from.

And the water, ever-so-slowly, started to crawl off the bed, down from the ceiling and the walls, across the floor again at a glacial pace. Dick swung the bathroom door open. Bentley watched in a mixture of awe and terror as he watched the vines of water slither back into the toilet and faucets.

When all the water was gone, nothing was wet, not even the mattress, and the room was eerily silent. And Bentley was oddly drained.

Fire, Air, and Water. How clever, Mr. Whittaker.

Bentley looked back up at Bruce, who had a reassuring smile on his face.

“Are you going to get rid of me now?”

Before he heard the reply, everything faded to black.

—

The first (and pretty much only) thing he got back was his hearing.

“-telling you, this is different. The whole structure of his DNA looks strange. It’s different from the last blood sample we have from him — It almost looks like a whole new strand,” That was Tim’s voice, he was pretty sure.

“So you’re saying that whoever kidnapped him changed his human DNA into metahuman DNA?”

“It looks like they… tore apart his original genome and spliced other parts in… like they manufactured synthetic DNA with the genetic mutation of a metahuman and replaced pieces of his own with it. It looks like… whoa,”

“What is it, Timmy?”

“It’s changing. The synthetic DNA is actually… turning the rest of his DNA into metahuman genomes. Spreading… like a virus,”

“Will that hurt him?”

“Let’s just say… I understand why he thought he was dying,”

“You think that could be why Asten-“

Bentley, had he been any more lucid, would’ve flinched at the absolutely gut-wrenching scream that ripped through the air. He was laying on something soft — it just sort of felt like his bed. A bed, at least. And the scream sounded strangely close to him.

“Well, his genes are being ripped apart and replaced, so, if I had to guess, yeah. That’s probably why he’s screaming,”

“What about Bentley?” He was pretty sure that voice was Dick, now that it said his name.

“It seems to be the beginning of the change. I don’t think there’s much we can do to help,”

Suddenly, Bentley’s eyes began to burn even though they were closed. He moved a hand to rub them, but as soon as he moved his fingers, his entire arm erupted into a blazing, fiery pain that made him whine.

“Are they going to be okay?” Came a third voice — the voice of Nico. Bentley felt a hand land on his shoulder, but instead of being soothing, it left a ripple of burning agony that made him choke out a strange sound. The hand jumped away.

“Yeah, they will,” Replied Dick. “We just have to get them through this. How are you feeling?”

There was a silence where all Bentley heard was his own bated breathing.

“Well, I… I was already a metahuman, so…”

“Oh… okay,”

Bentley tensed, gripping whoever’s covers he was under hard when a surge of absolute burning agony washed over him. It felt like when he was poisoned. Worse than when he was poisoned — like someone was searing his veins closed with a blowtorch. Another choking sound made it's way out of him, but he couldn’t produce words.

“You’re okay, kiddo. You’re going to be okay,”

Asten screamed again. Nico was suddenly crying.

Another wave of absolute searing agony came and went, and Bentley fought it good — he really did. He kept his whining to a minimum for a solid ten minutes.

But then the fire reached his head, and suddenly, two children’s screams were ripping through the halls of Wayne Manor.

And everyone inside just had to listen.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere

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maccreadysbaby · 3 days

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happens to the best of us 🤷🏻‍♀️

Me, writing innocently: This scene won’t be too angsty or tense, just some nice emotional angst maybe. Some fluff. Some sad blorbo feels. Me, two minutes later: and then he got held HOSTAGE

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maccreadysbaby · 3 days

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A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: anxiety attacks

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

yall this is the chapter i’ve been waiting for

part thirty-eight

❝ AIR AND FIRE AND WATER (OH MY) ❞

THURSDAY — SEPTEMBER 3 — 1:00 PM

What the hell was wrong with him?

Why the hell did he know that?

His mind kinda-sorta came back to him when he ran face-first into someone in the hall. Someone with a purple hoodie and black sweatpants.

When Dick Grayson looked down at him, Bentley started crying.

Dick breathed in, a sad expression coming across his features. “I think you’re having a panic attack, buddy. Just breathe with-“

Between the crying and the panicking and the not working lungs, he couldn’t breathe. “Everything. Everything feels wrong.”

Jason said something about Bentley’s dad, but he didn’t really hear him. Dick was touching his shoulders.

“Bentley, keep talking to me,” He pleaded, rubbing Bentley’s arms lightly. He turned to Jason with a subtle: “Go get Bruce.”

Jason left the room.

“I-I can… I…” Bentley choked on a few words and sobs at the same time, his hands shaking like leaves where they sat in Bruce’s grip. “I can… hear… I-I can feel… everything.”

“B, his eyes-”

“Shh,” Bruce ordered, one of his hands coming up to rest on the side of Bentley’s head. “It’s okay, chum. You’re going to be okay. Just look at me.”

Bentley looked at him as best he could through the tears and panic. He tried not to pay attention to Dick, who walked over to the bathroom door looking really, really confused.

“What the f-”

“Jason!”

“Bruce-“

“Bentley, just look at me,”

“That’s it, you’re okay,” Bruce uttered, his hand moving gently in Bentley’s hair. “You’re okay.”

Bruce rubbed a hand over his hair. “That’s it. There you go.”

Bentley breathed in deeply, hiccuping lightly, his brown eyes tracing the flying water. “Bruce…”

“It’s okay,”

“Oh my God,” Jason muttered. He and Dick were staring at the chandelier made of pure water, but Bruce wasn’t. Bruce was still looking at Bentley.

The water slowly moved from the chandelier back to its spot swirling on the ceiling.

There was absolutely no way Bentley was doing that. Right? There couldn’t be. He couldn’t be.

As a last ditch effort to prove that he wasn’t controlling the water, he imagined it going back where it came from.

When all the water was gone, nothing was wet, not even the mattress, and the room was eerily silent. And Bentley was oddly drained.

Fire, Air, and Water. How clever, Mr. Whittaker.

Bentley looked back up at Bruce, who had a reassuring smile on his face.

“Are you going to get rid of me now?”

Before he heard the reply, everything faded to black.

—

The first (and pretty much only) thing he got back was his hearing.

“So you’re saying that whoever kidnapped him changed his human DNA into metahuman DNA?”

“What is it, Timmy?”

“It’s changing. The synthetic DNA is actually… turning the rest of his DNA into metahuman genomes. Spreading… like a virus,”

“Will that hurt him?”

“Let’s just say… I understand why he thought he was dying,”

“You think that could be why Asten-“

“Well, his genes are being ripped apart and replaced, so, if I had to guess, yeah. That’s probably why he’s screaming,”

“What about Bentley?” He was pretty sure that voice was Dick, now that it said his name.

“It seems to be the beginning of the change. I don’t think there’s much we can do to help,”

“Yeah, they will,” Replied Dick. “We just have to get them through this. How are you feeling?”

There was a silence where all Bentley heard was his own bated breathing.

“Well, I… I was already a metahuman, so…”

“Oh… okay,”

“You’re okay, kiddo. You’re going to be okay,”

Asten screamed again. Nico was suddenly crying.

Another wave of absolute searing agony came and went, and Bentley fought it good — he really did. He kept his whining to a minimum for a solid ten minutes.

But then the fire reached his head, and suddenly, two children’s screams were ripping through the halls of Wayne Manor.

And everyone inside just had to listen.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere

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maccreadysbaby · 5 days

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is anyone else THOROUGHLY DISTURBED by the fallout show or just me

#fallout #fallout show #fallout series #fallout season 1

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maccreadysbaby · 6 days

Text

thank youuuuuuu so much🥹🥹🥹 your enthusiasm means the world seriously

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

and john’s back at it again ALSO one of his lines is FORESHADOWING babdmdkdkfjsn

part thirty-seven

❝ PLAN B ❞

THURSDAY — SEPTEMBER 3 — 12:00 PM

BENTLEY WAS PRETTY SURE HE’D NEVER MET ANYONE, NOT EVEN THE PUPPET MASTER, WHO COULD PULL STRINGS LIKE A WAYNE. Because, less than four hours later (with Bruce’s blessing), Bentley Whittaker and Jason Todd were waiting to get called into the visitation room at Blackgate Penitentiary to see his father.

Bentley hadn’t expected to be so nervous. Maybe he should’ve, since he was going to talk to the man who’d abused him for ten years, kidnapped him, poisoned him, and was now turning people into terrifying monsters whose only soul purpose was to murder his family. Not to mention that he’d just been patted and scanned and checked all over by people who, he was pretty darn positive, were carrying guns. And he was in a prison. Full of, like, murderers and stuff.

Before they’d left the house, he’d been a normal amount of nervous, but now, sitting in the empty prison hallway, he was downright horrified. He and Jason were sitting in uncomfortable metal chairs, staring down at old tile. Bentley’s knee was bouncing at a pace that might rival Nico’s superpowers. Honestly, as dreary as it was, he’d rather be back at the Manor sitting on the same loveseat watching Asten puke his guts out every ten minutes. (Because, yes, that was happening again.)

Bentley heard Jason breathe in and out. “You know, it’s not too late to back out.”

Bentley glanced over at him. They were both a little more presentable now, mirroring one another in varying colored jeans and hoodies. Jason had fixed his hair in its typical upward fashion, putting the white streak on full display. He was looking back at Bentley, a serious look on his face, his greenish-blue eyes gleaming oddly under the fluorescent lights.

Bentley looked down at his ratty red tennis shoes, at his vigorously bouncing knee. “No.”

He felt Jason’s eyes on him, and could practically feel the smirk on his face when he replied: “You sure? Because you look like you’re trying to pedal a broken bicycle.”

Bentley forced his knee to stop moving. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Jason said, patting Bentley’s knee once, quickly. “Just… really think about it. I can’t come in with you, so it’ll just be you, him, and a cop. If you really don’t want to do it, that’s okay.”

Bentley let out a puff of air. “I’m going to do it.”

“Okay,” He saw Jason nod in his peripheral, and after a moment of silence, he leaned in close and continued: “But if anything happens, I’ll blow that door off its hinges before the cops even know what’s happening.”

Bentley cracked a smile at that, and Jason sat back with a triumphant smirk.

Waiting felt like both an eternity and a split second. One minute, he and Jason were sitting alone in the hall, the next, he was being ushered through a big, thick door by a female officer who was relaying ground rules and reinforcing the fact that Bentley only had twenty minutes to talk to his dad.

“You don’t have to stay for all twenty,” Jason interrupted as Bentley was whisked down the hall, which the officer didn’t really appreciate. The woman kept talking but Bentley couldn’t really focus; he was too busy trying to peer into the visitation area.

The long, barren hallway turned into a long, barren room, lined with plexiglass booths. There were no other people in there. Each booth had a phone and desk on either side, separated in the middle by a wall of glass. There was a sign above every window that said: please don’t scratch the glass!

Bentley steeled when he spotted a mop of red hair that matched his to the tee, sitting behind one of the windows. He breathed in and out. His father couldn’t get to him behind the glass, right? Bentley didn’t see any holes or doors or ways for him to get into the room. The police officer, whose hair Bentley could now see was black, closed the door to the room and went to stand along the wall.

With a final quick glance up to her, Bentley made his way to the rickety spinning stool across from his father. Third booth from the right.

He looked… different. Not so clean cut. His hair was longer — he’d always been so anal about trimming his hair that Bentley was thoroughly shocked at the sight of the shaggy red mop that looked a lot like his own now. He had a little facial hair, too, patchy and strange looking. He was wearing a matching set of gray clothes, not a pressed suit, and when Bentley sat down, his shiny brown eyes bored into the child’s head like an electric drill.

Bentley, when he sat down, moved his feet up to the highest rung on the stool in an attempt to make himself smaller. Cut the head off the snake, right? That’s what he was here to do; stop the operation in its tracks. So… how was he supposed to manipulate the manipulator? (In hindsight, maybe he should’ve thought a little bit more before he decided to go to the prison.)

His father picked up the black wall-phone on his side of the glass and brought it up to his ear. Talking openly about, like, crime and stuff was pretty stupid, though, wasn’t it?

Bentley lifted his hands, finger-spelling: sign.

His father put the phone back.

A moment of silence passed where Bentley’s father just sort of watched him closely; contemplating. His eyes scoured what had to be every inch of his son’s appearance before he lifted his hands and signed: ‘You’ve grown.’

Bentley thought long and hard about how he should respond. He considered saying: Yeah, food helps with that, but decided against it. Instead, he just bobbed his fist yes. This was already way harder than he’d thought. How was he supposed to talk to him? After he’d… you know. After all, his father never really gave up, even in jail.

Bentley kept his gaze trained on his father’s hands like he used to, avoiding eye contact like the plague. He didn’t want to see his face.

The hands moved. ‘How is school?’

Bentley breathed in and out, fingerspelling: ‘Fine.’ Well, besides having a murdering mad scientist (who moves at his father’s command.) for a teacher, and a bully who thought it would be funny to lock Bentley in the janitor's closet. That and the fact that he was now in the public eye for living with Bruce. He didn’t even want to know what the news reports looked like lately. Bruce Wayne’s newest child, gone without a trace?

John nodded. Another brief moment of staring ensued, before he brought his hands up again. ‘Made any friends?’

Not besides the ones you tried to kill. Bentley blinked a few times, moving his fingers calculatively. ‘Yes. But you already knew that.’

His father’s expression grew curious, in an arrogant sort of way, like he was raising his brows to say oh, really? Bentley only looked at him for a second before his eyes drifted back to the table his father’s elbows were resting on.

‘I know you’re still talking to Dr. Keene,’ Bentley signed subtly, glancing at the officer behind them, who looked anything but engaged. ‘And I’m sure you know by now that he had us at the facility. Then he didn’t.’

His father said nothing. Typical, and a great way to piss off an already sort of simmering-in-his-own-silent-rage kind of child.

Bentley kept his hands moving, lest they stop. ‘You’re hurting innocent people just to get back at me? I never did anything to you.’

John lifted his hands, his fingers twitching oddly for a moment before he signed: ‘It wasn’t about you. It was about Bruce.’

Bentley fought the urge to roll his eyes. ‘But-’

‘Bruce is the reason your mother and sister are dead. And then he came along and took you away from me, too,’ His father’s hands were sort of trembling, now, his expression intense and hard. Bentley could feel his eyes but still wouldn’t look right at them.

‘You didn’t even want me. What sense is there in attacking someone who got the kid you never wanted? Now you don’t have to deal with me,’ Bentley signed, looking at his father’s hands, shaking his head subtly. ‘You hate me, and now I’m somebody else’s problem. You should be happy.’

‘I don’t hate you,’ Was his father’s reply. Bentley saw his expression change. ‘I love you.’

The child breathed in through his nose. Not this, not again. Get the conversation back on track — control it. ‘No, you don’t.’

‘You can’t tell me what I do and don’t love; you don’t know,’ His father signed. ‘I love you.’

‘No, you don’t, and I don’t care. That’s not what I’m here to talk about,’ Bentley tried, but his signs went unnoticed.

‘I do, Bentley. I love you,’

Bentley inhaled sharply, looking down at the table with a few blinks. The last time his father had said that, it was a big fat lie. What had Bentley ever done to deserve all of that? All of this? What did he do not to deserve his father’s love?

Still, he caved for the patented back-and-forth arguing game. ‘You don’t.’

‘You just don’t want to accept the fact that maybe you’re wrong.’ His father signed, lowering his head so it was more in Bentley’s view. ‘You don’t want to accept the fact that I can change. That I can be more than the monster under your bed.’

What if his father could change? Not that Bentley thought he was. He was still a crazy psycho killer. But what if, one day, he wasn’t? What if, one day, he really was more than the monster from Bentley’s past? What if one day he really wanted to love him?

What if he wanted him back one day?

Bentley tried to push the thoughts out of his mind — he was on a mission. He was the Puppeteer. Right? His father couldn’t really love him. Right?

‘You asked me in the warehouse why I didn’t love you, and I’m telling you now, that I do,’ His father continued to sign, and Bentley’s eyes began to burn. He tried to push it away with everything in him, but something didn’t want to let go of the hope. The hope that maybe his real dad could love him again. ‘I did some awful things to you out of my own pain. Terrible things I would never wish upon any child in this world. I don’t know if I’ll ever do enough good to make up for it, but the one thing I can make damn well sure I do is let you know that I do love you.’

Bentley looked down at the table. It had been almost a year. Could someone change so fast? A year was long enough, wasn’t it?

‘You’re not lying this time?’ He signed in return.

‘No, Bentley. I didn’t see it before, but I see it now — getting you taken away, coming here, spending my time thinking, reflecting… It helped me realize that you were the best thing that ever happened to me. The only thing I really wanted. Needed.’

Bentley shook his head, blinking away the beginnings of tears. Rational thought and logic said he was lying. Hope said something else. ‘I don’t believe you.’

To the child’s surprise, his father smiled. Actually, literally smiled. With teeth and all. Teeth. Bentley’s father never smiled, let alone at him. ‘That’s okay. I’ll just keep saying it. I love you.’

Bentley shook his head, breathing in, swallowing thickly. ‘Stop.’

‘I love you, Bentley. I love you so much,’

‘Stop lying,’ He tried again.

‘I love you,’

‘Stop it,’

‘Look up at me. Please?’

That strange little sliver of hope had Bentley lifting his head on command, his brown eyes meeting the identical ones of his father. His father had tears — actual, honest tears — beginning to glimmer at the bottom of his eyes, a smile playing on his lips.

‘People can change, Bentley. You’re surrounded by them. Damian Wayne went from being a murderer to a superhero. Jason Todd went from rage-killing to a full-time older brother,’ He explained with his hands, smile staying all the while. ‘I can change, Bentley. I want to change. I just need you to have faith in me.’

Bentley stared, dumbfounded, vision slightly obscured by the liquid in his eyes.

‘I,’ His father separated the signs for emphasis with a smile, and an honest to goodness tear went down the man’s face. ‘Love. You.’

All that reliable rational thought and logic went out the window, and Bentley brought a hand to his mouth. Of all the things he expected to do while talking to his father, crying was not one of them. But here he was. Crying. (He probably should’ve expected to cry anyways. He was basically a professional at it.)

For a moment, he just rested his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands. So many red flags were waving in his mind, alarm bells sounding, lights flashing, telling him his father was lying, deceiving him, but he couldn’t really bring himself to accept it. He couldn’t. Not when his father had just told him he’d loved him ten times in one conversation. Not when Bentley was so close to feeling what he’d always wanted to feel. His father loving him was different from Dick or Bruce, it was… more. It didn’t feel the same. Different, long overdue, and… really, really, really, really good.

So, there he sat for a solid five minutes at least, his palms buried in his eye sockets in an attempt to keep the tears in. (It didn’t work. When did it ever?) He was biting his tongue to keep silent in fear Jason really would hear him crying through the wall and come break it down.

Logic told him to stop. To pay attention. To use his Puppeteer mind to see through everything his father was saying. That if he really had changed, if he really loved him, he wouldn’t be doing all of this.

The part of him that wanted so badly to be loved didn’t let him.

Because what if his dad really did love him?

There was a subtle peck on the glass, and Bentley looked up again, finally letting his (watery, and red.) brown eyes meet his father’s and stay there. He was still smiling, kind of like Bruce always did.

‘It’s been a year, and you still crumble under the weight of three small words. I thought I taught you better than that.’

Bentley sat up, wiping at his eyes, and glanced around the room warily. His father’s smile fell into nothing — something cold, like Bentley was used to. This wasn’t… he hadn’t… again?

‘You were lying?’

‘I thought you lived with detectives, Bentley,’ He signed, one eyebrow raised in a triumphant manner. He leaned in close to the glass, and Bentley instinctively moved away. ‘Listen, and listen closely, because this is the last thing I’m saying to you.’

Bentley looked down at his shaky hands. That strange feeling came again, the same one he felt at the Manor. He heard water moving through the pipes in the ceiling. He felt his blood pumping.

‘Even if you get Dr. Keene arrested, even if you kill Charlie and release the other children and destroy this entire operation from the ground up, you’re going to lose. If I can’t destroy the Wayne’s alone, I’ll just watch all of Gotham burn instead,’ He signed, a strangely competent look coming across his face like he was having a normal business transaction. ‘We have a plan B that you won’t touch, that you won’t even know about until it’s too late. Think of it as a boss fight in a video game. It’s coming. And you can’t stop it.’

Bentley exhaled a shaky breath, wiping at his eyes.

‘If you find a way to stop this — if you make us change to plan B, all the thousands of lives lost here in Gotham are on your head,’ His father smiled a crooked smile, different from the last. ‘There’s no way for you to win, Bentley. This is the end. It's your choice how many people come out of it.’

Bentley’s hands were shaking when he signed: ‘You’re not going to win.’

His father laughed. Literally laughed, out loud. ‘If you really think so, then keep your eye on the news channels. If you keep your ears open you might hear the warning call before the end comes.’

Bentley looked down at his own lap.

‘And Bentley…’ His father signed, and the child looked up one last time. ‘Just to clear things up… not a single atom of my very being has ever loved you… and not a single atom ever will.’

That was the moment a part of Bentley… died. Something inside of him shifted. The little boy that wanted his dad to love him so badly faded away to nothing, and left something oddly empty and wrong in its wake. Something like rage, but muffled by something else he couldn’t place right then.

Bentley stood up from the stool, letting out a breath of air. ‘That’s okay. Bruce loves me better than you ever could. Don’t you ever get tired of being second best?’

He didn’t wait for his father’s reply, but turned to leave the room.

“Oh, and Bentley…”

He turned back to his father one last time, who was standing now, with a smile. “When the elements are pitted against one another, fire always wins.”

Bentley said nothing. The officer led him out of the room.

When Bentley made it back into the hallway and Jason noticed his red rimmed eyes, he looked like he was going to kill someone.

“Bentley?” He questioned, standing up when they got close. “What happened?”

“I think they had a heartfelt conversation. I couldn’t really hear it, of course — I didn’t know the boy didn’t talk,” Said the officer, patting Bentley’s shoulder. “He’s all yours. Make sure you check up with security on your way out.”

Jason took Bentley’s shoulder and replied with a: “Yeah…”

The walk out of the prison felt like an eternity. Somehow, Bentley was feeling everything and nothing at all. It felt like everything negative inside of him — rage, sadness, despair, desperation, terror, loneliness, disappointment, frustration, a whole entire life’s worth of guilt — it was like it was all broiling and fighting to get out, but the lid of the pot was closed too tight. Like it was seeping out of crevices and waiting for the day Bentley Whittaker breaks.

“What did he say to you?” Jason practically demanded, his hand staying firmly on Bentley’s left shoulder as they walked through the not-very-crowded parking lot. He had a very deadpan, sort of pissed off look on his face.

Bentley looked everywhere but at Jason, dutifully shutting down the urges to cry or throw a tantrum or punch something or burn down a house. “I just… can we just go home? Please? I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Did he threaten you?” Jason continued, squeezing Bentley’s shoulder as they split to go on either side of the car. Jason climbed in the driver’s seat, and Bentley hopped into the passenger’s side.

“No,” Bentley replied once they were both in Jason’s car, buckling his seatbelt. Not directly, anyway…

“Why have you been crying?”

Bentley looked down at his lap as the car started up. “Can we just go home?”

Jason didn’t argue.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere

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maccreadysbaby · 6 days

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Tim has some very good luck I can tell you that

I cant even with this story. I love it so much. Tim vs all the rogues that want money or revenge lmao

The final scene of baby Tim just on the floor at the gala and the Wayne’s rushing to his aid is forever burned into my brain thanks

I know I said I post on Tuesdays but... I love this chapter, your honor.

Minor spoilers from chapter 8 under the cut

Me, watching all the comments say that the Waynes are gonna freak when Tim "disappears", knowing he's actually thinking this through (sort of) and giving them a cover story: uhh... sorry, it's still angsty, just not that kind?

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maccreadysbaby · 6 days

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I just love your dynamics🥹🥹🥹 and TIMMY IT SOUNDS LIKE YOURE ABOUT TO DO A REAL BENTLEY LIKE THING HERE BOY CAN WE JUST NOT I think it’s become apparent between a hundred ways and these are the days that running away is NOT a viable solution to anything at all ever

Chapter eight, ayyyyyy!

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maccreadysbaby · 6 days

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Gooooaasbsbendksieud Jason STOOOOOOPPPPPPPPPP I can’t even, the poor (not so little anymore) dude. Andnwkfjwjndsjusbx

also jasonthan had me cackling

also how old are the batboys in this? You probably already said in the first chapters but I forgot

these are the days yayyyyy! Y'all finally get the fluff and comfort I have been withholding.

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maccreadysbaby · 6 days

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A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

and john’s back at it again ALSO one of his lines is FORESHADOWING babdmdkdkfjsn

part thirty-seven

❝ PLAN B ❞

THURSDAY — SEPTEMBER 3 — 12:00 PM

Bentley heard Jason breathe in and out. “You know, it’s not too late to back out.”

Bentley looked down at his ratty red tennis shoes, at his vigorously bouncing knee. “No.”

He felt Jason’s eyes on him, and could practically feel the smirk on his face when he replied: “You sure? Because you look like you’re trying to pedal a broken bicycle.”

Bentley forced his knee to stop moving. “Sorry.”

Bentley let out a puff of air. “I’m going to do it.”

Bentley cracked a smile at that, and Jason sat back with a triumphant smirk.

With a final quick glance up to her, Bentley made his way to the rickety spinning stool across from his father. Third booth from the right.

His father picked up the black wall-phone on his side of the glass and brought it up to his ear. Talking openly about, like, crime and stuff was pretty stupid, though, wasn’t it?

Bentley lifted his hands, finger-spelling: sign.

His father put the phone back.

Bentley kept his gaze trained on his father’s hands like he used to, avoiding eye contact like the plague. He didn’t want to see his face.

The hands moved. ‘How is school?’

John nodded. Another brief moment of staring ensued, before he brought his hands up again. ‘Made any friends?’

Not besides the ones you tried to kill. Bentley blinked a few times, moving his fingers calculatively. ‘Yes. But you already knew that.’

His father said nothing. Typical, and a great way to piss off an already sort of simmering-in-his-own-silent-rage kind of child.

Bentley kept his hands moving, lest they stop. ‘You’re hurting innocent people just to get back at me? I never did anything to you.’

John lifted his hands, his fingers twitching oddly for a moment before he signed: ‘It wasn’t about you. It was about Bruce.’

Bentley fought the urge to roll his eyes. ‘But-’

‘I don’t hate you,’ Was his father’s reply. Bentley saw his expression change. ‘I love you.’

The child breathed in through his nose. Not this, not again. Get the conversation back on track — control it. ‘No, you don’t.’

‘You can’t tell me what I do and don’t love; you don’t know,’ His father signed. ‘I love you.’

‘No, you don’t, and I don’t care. That’s not what I’m here to talk about,’ Bentley tried, but his signs went unnoticed.

‘I do, Bentley. I love you,’

Still, he caved for the patented back-and-forth arguing game. ‘You don’t.’

What if he wanted him back one day?

Bentley tried to push the thoughts out of his mind — he was on a mission. He was the Puppeteer. Right? His father couldn’t really love him. Right?

Bentley looked down at the table. It had been almost a year. Could someone change so fast? A year was long enough, wasn’t it?

‘You’re not lying this time?’ He signed in return.

Bentley shook his head, blinking away the beginnings of tears. Rational thought and logic said he was lying. Hope said something else. ‘I don’t believe you.’

Bentley shook his head, breathing in, swallowing thickly. ‘Stop.’

‘I love you, Bentley. I love you so much,’

‘Stop lying,’ He tried again.

‘I love you,’

‘Stop it,’

‘Look up at me. Please?’

Bentley stared, dumbfounded, vision slightly obscured by the liquid in his eyes.

‘I,’ His father separated the signs for emphasis with a smile, and an honest to goodness tear went down the man’s face. ‘Love. You.’

The part of him that wanted so badly to be loved didn’t let him.

Because what if his dad really did love him?

‘It’s been a year, and you still crumble under the weight of three small words. I thought I taught you better than that.’

Bentley sat up, wiping at his eyes, and glanced around the room warily. His father’s smile fell into nothing — something cold, like Bentley was used to. This wasn’t… he hadn’t… again?

‘You were lying?’

Bentley looked down at his shaky hands. That strange feeling came again, the same one he felt at the Manor. He heard water moving through the pipes in the ceiling. He felt his blood pumping.

Bentley exhaled a shaky breath, wiping at his eyes.

Bentley’s hands were shaking when he signed: ‘You’re not going to win.’

Bentley looked down at his own lap.

Bentley stood up from the stool, letting out a breath of air. ‘That’s okay. Bruce loves me better than you ever could. Don’t you ever get tired of being second best?’

He didn’t wait for his father’s reply, but turned to leave the room.

“Oh, and Bentley…”

He turned back to his father one last time, who was standing now, with a smile. “When the elements are pitted against one another, fire always wins.”

Bentley said nothing. The officer led him out of the room.

When Bentley made it back into the hallway and Jason noticed his red rimmed eyes, he looked like he was going to kill someone.

“Bentley?” He questioned, standing up when they got close. “What happened?”

Jason took Bentley’s shoulder and replied with a: “Yeah…”

“No,” Bentley replied once they were both in Jason’s car, buckling his seatbelt. Not directly, anyway…

“Why have you been crying?”

Bentley looked down at his lap as the car started up. “Can we just go home?”

Jason didn’t argue.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere

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maccreadysbaby · 8 days

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I’m on episode 5 so please no spoilers!!

#fallout #fallout series #fallout show #lucy maclean #the ghoul #maximus fallout

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maccreadysbaby · 9 days

Text

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: contemplated s**cide

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

im sorry but also no I’m not

part thirty-six

❝ OVER THE EDGE (ALMOST) ❞

THURSDAY — SEPTEMBER 3 — 9:00AM

BENTLEY WAS REALLY COLD.

“Don’t worry, Babybird — I won’t tell your secrets,”

Bentley breathed in and out three times before he could see. His breath was coming out as clouds of vapor in front of him, rising into the air. All he could see was the sky. A big, black mass peppered with millions of tiny twinkling stars, and a huge, bright full moon.

He blinked. There was a familiar dull ache at the base of his skull, and his muscles were kind of sore, in a strange, prickly kind of way. He was laying on something really hard and really cold. The wind was blowing, the freezing temperatures biting at his exposed skin and making it burn.

With a grunt of discomfort, he sat up. He was laying on the roof of a building in the freezing cold. The night’s sky was above, and over the concrete ledge that kept people from falling off the roof, Gotham was glowing. He had to be at least fifteen or twenty stories in the air.

The city looked much brighter from up there. He pushed himself off of the rooftop and stepped closer to the edge, peering off at the view. He could see a lot — more than he’d ever seen. Hundreds of buildings and tons of cars moving and people walking and… so many lights. Lights everywhere, all shining and twinkling. He blinked, utterly taken aback by the view.

In the distance, a large light flickered to life, projecting an image into the sky.

A bat.

Bentley stared in awe, a phantom of a smile quirking up on his lips. That was the signal people used to call Batman, right?

For a while, he just looked off the edge of the building, watching the cars, the people, the lights. At one point, he was pretty sure he saw Batman on a rooftop.

And then he realized someone was crying.

Bentley turned toward the sound, towards other side of the rooftop for the first time. More night’s sky and Gotham lights were visible past it, but that wasn’t what drew his attention — it was the person sitting on the ledge, their legs dangling freely over the sidewalk at least fifteen stories below. They were small.

Bentley glanced around, catching sight of the door that led to the roof, which was sitting slightly open. With a few hesitant steps forward, Bentley muttered: “Excuse me?”

They didn’t move. Their silhouette was nearly solid black from where Bentley was standing, outlined with lights and stars. They were shaking slightly, and he could hear them sniffling and sobbing quietly.

“Excuse me?” He tried again, stepping forward. “Are you okay?”

Nothing.

Bentley, slowly and steadily, made his way to the ledge about twenty feet from them, so he could see their face.

With the Gotham lights shining toward them now, he could see exactly who it was — it was Asten. He was holding his cell-phone in his hands with tears streaming down his face in a way Bentley hadn’t seen since he watched his parents die. His hair was a lighter blue than he remembered, and he looked… younger? Maybe? Only a little. He had on his Gotham Academy uniform, and his left eye was bruised spectacularly, making way for his bleeding nose. Well, it wasn’t bleeding anymore, but there was still blood on his face and peppered on his clothes that he hadn’t bothered to clean off. He was sniffling and spluttering pitifully, kind of like Nico at the bus stop, or Bentley after his first nightmare with the Secret Keeper.

“Asten?” Bentley tried, but of course, he went unheard. He waved one of his hands out toward his friend, but he didn’t see it. Why couldn’t anyone see him?

There were messages coming into Asten’s phone like mad. Since Bentley couldn’t be seen, he stepped closer, peering down at the screen.

Asten was texting Nico, and the texts he was receiving seemed to be a panicked, jumbled mess of where are you, his name, and the word please a whole lot. Bentley glanced up at Asten, who was staring at it but not typing back. His phone rang; he declined it. It rang again. He declined it again.

Bentley glanced around the empty rooftop again. The building was easily one of the tallest in the area — how did Asten even get up there? And why? He wished he could be seen, so he could help. Why was he crying?

Asten pulled a small, crumpled sheet of paper out of his pants pocket, and upon closer examination, Bentley realized it was a photograph of him and his parents. The cold breeze came and went again. It blew Asten’s hair around and made the little paper dance.

Bentley frowned in sympathy, glancing up at Asten, who was staring blankly at the photo. Texts were still coming in from Nico, one after another like clockwork.

Asten looked down at his phone, and with shaky fingers, typed a reply to Nico’s texts.

Everything would be easier if I was just dead.

Wasn’t that almost the exact same thing Bentley had said to Nico?

Bentley watched in silence as Asten sat his phone and photo off to the side, on the ledge next to him, staring off into the distance. There were texts and calls coming in like mad. The breeze whipped and blew as Asten moved, climbing off of the ledge and then right back on, this time, standing on it instead of sitting.

Bentley blinked. In an instant he was hearing his heart in his ears, and he reached for Asten’s ankle only for his hand to go through it, just like it had with Bruce when he watched Jason die.

“Asten,” He muttered, even though he knew it wouldn’t be heard. He blinked. Was Asten about to… I mean, Bentley had never seen… never thought… “Asten? Hey, Asten, please.”

The lights of Gotham were reflecting in Asten’s green eyes, tears and tear-streaks gleaming in the illumination. The breeze was whipping his blue hair and Gotham Academy uniform around. Bentley, panicked, reached for him again to no avail.

“Asten,” He repeated, moving closer. “Asten.”

Asten stared off the ledge, down at the sidewalk with people moving to and fro on it. He hiccuped, watching the people move closely, intently. Was he waiting… for them to get out of the way?

“Asten,” Bentley tried, his eyes becoming a little misty. “Asten, please get down.”

He didn’t. Instead, he actually moved closer to the edge like it didn’t even matter. Bentley reached for him again. It didn’t work.

“Asten, please, don’t,” He practically begged, the back of his eyes burning. What in the heck were you supposed to say to someone who was… like this?

Something changed about Asten’s eyes — about his whole face. He stopped crying. He seemed… normal. Calm. He didn’t look troubled anymore. Bentley looked down. There was no one on the sidewalk.

He quickly looked back up at Asten with a “No!” That went unheard.

Something moved behind them.

“You think we’re gonna have a blizzard tomorrow?”

Bentley and Asten both flinched in tandem when a familiar voice pierced the air. Asten didn’t turn, but his calmness left instead, and closed his eyes with a shaky breath and sent a few more tears down his face.

Bentley, however, did turn. He blinked blankly at a sight he hadn’t really expected — Red Hood was crouching in the center of the rooftop, his helmet still tight on his head.

Asten said nothing to Jason’s left field question, balling his hands into fists by his sides so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“Have you ever seen a superhero before?”

“Piss off,” Was Asten’s whispered reply, bringing a hand up to rub at his crying eyes. “Go away.”

“What’s your name?”

Asten grumbled in annoyance. “Piss off.”

Jason moved only about a millimeter closer, still crouched. “Would it hurt to tell me if you’re just going to jump anyways?”

For a moment, Asten got lost in thought, squeezing his hands tighter. He swallowed thickly, looking down off the ledge, at the sidewalk and road below.

“Asten,” He muttered, a hiccup breaking up the word in the middle.

Jason nodded. “Asten. How old are you?”

There was another moment of silence where Bentley just stood still, watching. Listening.

“Twelve,”

Jason shifted uncomfortably, and he seemed to look around before he continued: “Your phone is ringing. You know who’s calling?” It wasn’t his Jason voice or even his Red Hood voice. It was his Robin voice.

Asten didn’t reply to that one, but instead, shuffled his toes closer to the edge of the building. Bentley’s hand drifted up to his mouth and stayed there, and Jason moved, albeit slowly, closer.

“Don’t try to talk me out of it,” Asten muttered with a quiet sob, wiping at his eyes. “It won’t work.”

“I’m not. I’m just talking,” Jason replied smoothly, standing up. “I’ve been in the same position before, myself. I know how it feels; so jump.”

Asten’s eyes widened, and he looked backwards for the first time, eyes lingering on Jason’s helmet. “What?”

Jason inched forward until he was next to Asten, his boots against the ledge. “If you really have no hope at all; no one that loves you, no one that you can count on — if you really have nothing left that makes you happy, a person, an object, an activity that makes waking up in the morning worth it… then jump.”

Asten started to cry harder, bringing his hands up to his face.

Jason’s head turned subtly in the direction of Asten’s eternally buzzing phone. “But I have a feeling that isn’t the case.”

Asten said nothing, crying nearly uncontrollably into the sleeves of his Gotham Academy blazer. “I hate it here.”

“So did I,”

Asten tugged at his own hair, squeezing until his knuckles turned white again. “Why… didn’t you… jump?”

Jason breathed in and out deeply. “My brother cared enough to show up before I could.”

Just then, a round of two or three sirens faded softly into Bentley’s earshot, and Asten turned on a dime, glaring dangerously at Jason with a fire in his eyes. “You called the cops?”

“No,” The Red Hood replied lowly, grabbing Asten’s phone and holding it up so he could see the caller ID on the screen. It said Nico. “But I bet I know who did.”

Bentley watched in silence as more time passed, and two cop cars screeched to a halt at the bottom of the building they were on top of, followed by a black Mercedes. All three of the cars’ doors flew open, and people piled out, including a certain blonde who still had his phone pressed into his ear, who left the police in his dust to get inside the building.

Jason held his hand out, up toward Asten. His other hand was holding onto the grappling gun he had on his hip. “You wanna come down so you can talk to him?”

Asten stayed on the ledge for a few moments, shaking, crying, contemplating everything and nothing. It was probably the scariest few moments Bentley had ever witnessed.

Silence continued to pass until the door to the roof swung open, and Nico flew out, followed closely by his parents. He had obviously been bawling his eyes out, and let out a very desperate sounding: “Asten.”

That’s when Asten caved, reaching back and taking Jason’s hand. The vigilante grabbed him steadily by the arms and helped him off of the ledge, crying and all. Nico ran to him.

Bentley’s head felt like it was caving in. Splitting pain radiated from one side of his skull to the other, his limbs went limp, and the surface of the rooftop was hard when he hit it. With a groan of agony, he reached toward Red Hood’s boot.

Everything went black.

And then he jumped awake again, gasping deeply. He blinked a few times — they were in the bedroom with Asten.

Right. The bedroom. Asten — he was sick. The Secret Keeper. Reality was coming back to him — he and Nico, after their fight with the Secret Keeper, had gone upstairs, stayed utterly silent, and didn’t move. (Typical of them, right? If they weren’t panicking they seemed to not do much of anything at all.)

Bentley was curled in a ball on the loveseat, his head close to something else small that he quickly realized was a sleeping Nico. Sunlight was streaming in from the windows, Asten was still limp in the bed, and Jason was in one of two chairs situated near the door, reading a book to himself. His cell phone was laying face down on the arm of the seat. The clock next to Asten’s bed read 9:01am.

Apparently Jason and Asten had more of a history than Bentley realized. Maybe that’s why Jason was here? Even though Asten didn’t know it was him?

“Bad dream?” Jason questioned softly, and despite already knowing he was very much awake and alert, Bentley jumped at the sound of his voice.

“Mhm,” He hummed quietly, sitting up and re-situating himself.

“Secret Keeper stuff?”

“Mhm,” He repeated.

A moment of silence ensued, and Bentley dug his phone out of his pocket, piddling around with it for a few moments. He glanced at his friends. Asten was still unresponsive and limp in the bed, the washcloth laying on his head and IV in his arm. Nico was curled up in a tiny ball on the other side of the loveseat, beneath the same blue blanket that Bentley had been under.

He stared at his phone for a few more moments before he texted Jason: I saw a memory. You getting Asten off a ledge.

Jason’s phone dinged. He picked it up, read the message, and then glanced up at Bentley. They shared a moment of silent eye contact. Jason’s thumbs were hovering, but not moving, so Bentley typed again.

You said you’d been in that position before.

Neither of them looked up, but the air in the room seemed to get thicker. Bentley listened for the telltale little taps of Jason’s fingers, but they never came. So, instead of ignoring it like he typically would, he sent another text.

Would you have really done it? Jumped?

More silence, this time even more tense, thicker. Jason’s typing bubbles came up and went away a few times, and then his message came through:

Back then? I think so.

Bentley typed again. Why didn’t you?

Dick showed up.

Bentley glanced up at Jason, blinking at the way his phone light was illuminating his white streak. Jason didn’t take his eyes off of the screen. He’d told Bentley first hand about being at rock bottom, so maybe this was what he was talking about when he said he got close to death again? It gave Bentley a weird feeling.

Would you do it now? Was the next message Jason got.

Typing bubbles came and went on Bentley’s phone again, before a one-word text came through: No.

Bentley exhaled a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding.

You promise?

“I promise, Bentley,”

He glanced up at Jason, who was looking back at him with his white streak and greenish-blue eyes.

More quietness passed.

“Jason?”

“Hm?”

Bentley blinked a few times, his eyes moving here and there, not settling anywhere for too long. The mental image of Jason on a ledge like Asten was made the back of his eyes burn. The fact that Jason had gotten to that point before.

Bentley blinked again, clearing his throat subtly. Glanced at his friends to make sure they were really asleep. “I watched you die,” He whispered. “When I was kidnapped, I… saw it.”

Jason breathed out, shifting on the chair, becoming increasingly uncomfortable. He opened his mouth; nothing came out.

“The Joker, I was… and I couldn’t…” Bentley took a breath. “I saw all of it.”

No one spoke.

“I already told you but I… want you to know that…” Bentley sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m really, really glad you’re alive.”

Another long spurt of silence passed. Bentley just sort of looked at Asten, watching his chest rise and fall beneath the quilt.

“Kid…”

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” Bentley continued, glancing up at Jason, who looked oddly tense. “It’s okay.”

So Jason didn’t say anything.

Bentley picked at the bottom of the blanket. “I don’t know why she shows me this stuff. I’ve seen a ton of things — she showed me some of the different futures I could have. I’ve seen… me die… and you were, uh, trying to save me. In a glowing green pool. I saw my headstone.”

Jason’s eyes traveled back up to Bentley and bounced around for a few moments, his expression darkening at his words. “You aren’t going to die.”

Bentley looked down at his hands. “I also saw one where I was… back with my dad. And I… helped him, uh…” He trailed off, staring intently at the cushions of the loveseat. “And I saw where I was Robin and Tim was Batman.”

Jason didn’t speak, but he had a detective-y look on his face again.

“I just want to make the right choices. To unlock a good one,” Bentley continued with a sigh. “Which is why I need your help.”

Jason leaned forward in his chair. “Kid-“

“It’s not hard. You can say no, I just…” He squeezed the blanket between his fingers. “I want to go visit my father.”

Silence.

“And I want you to take me,”

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

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maccreadysbaby · 9 days

Text

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: contemplated s**cide

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

im sorry but also no I’m not

part thirty-six

❝ OVER THE EDGE (ALMOST) ❞

THURSDAY — SEPTEMBER 3 — 9:00AM

BENTLEY WAS REALLY COLD.

“Don’t worry, Babybird — I won’t tell your secrets,”

In the distance, a large light flickered to life, projecting an image into the sky.

A bat.

Bentley stared in awe, a phantom of a smile quirking up on his lips. That was the signal people used to call Batman, right?

For a while, he just looked off the edge of the building, watching the cars, the people, the lights. At one point, he was pretty sure he saw Batman on a rooftop.

And then he realized someone was crying.

Bentley glanced around, catching sight of the door that led to the roof, which was sitting slightly open. With a few hesitant steps forward, Bentley muttered: “Excuse me?”

“Excuse me?” He tried again, stepping forward. “Are you okay?”

Nothing.

Bentley, slowly and steadily, made his way to the ledge about twenty feet from them, so he could see their face.

“Asten?” Bentley tried, but of course, he went unheard. He waved one of his hands out toward his friend, but he didn’t see it. Why couldn’t anyone see him?

There were messages coming into Asten’s phone like mad. Since Bentley couldn’t be seen, he stepped closer, peering down at the screen.

Bentley frowned in sympathy, glancing up at Asten, who was staring blankly at the photo. Texts were still coming in from Nico, one after another like clockwork.

Asten looked down at his phone, and with shaky fingers, typed a reply to Nico’s texts.

Everything would be easier if I was just dead.

Wasn’t that almost the exact same thing Bentley had said to Nico?

Bentley blinked. In an instant he was hearing his heart in his ears, and he reached for Asten’s ankle only for his hand to go through it, just like it had with Bruce when he watched Jason die.

“Asten,” He muttered, even though he knew it wouldn’t be heard. He blinked. Was Asten about to… I mean, Bentley had never seen… never thought… “Asten? Hey, Asten, please.”

“Asten,” He repeated, moving closer. “Asten.”

Asten stared off the ledge, down at the sidewalk with people moving to and fro on it. He hiccuped, watching the people move closely, intently. Was he waiting… for them to get out of the way?

“Asten,” Bentley tried, his eyes becoming a little misty. “Asten, please get down.”

He didn’t. Instead, he actually moved closer to the edge like it didn’t even matter. Bentley reached for him again. It didn’t work.

“Asten, please, don’t,” He practically begged, the back of his eyes burning. What in the heck were you supposed to say to someone who was… like this?

He quickly looked back up at Asten with a “No!” That went unheard.

Something moved behind them.

“You think we’re gonna have a blizzard tomorrow?”

Bentley, however, did turn. He blinked blankly at a sight he hadn’t really expected — Red Hood was crouching in the center of the rooftop, his helmet still tight on his head.

Asten said nothing to Jason’s left field question, balling his hands into fists by his sides so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“Have you ever seen a superhero before?”

“Piss off,” Was Asten’s whispered reply, bringing a hand up to rub at his crying eyes. “Go away.”

“What’s your name?”

Asten grumbled in annoyance. “Piss off.”

Jason moved only about a millimeter closer, still crouched. “Would it hurt to tell me if you’re just going to jump anyways?”

For a moment, Asten got lost in thought, squeezing his hands tighter. He swallowed thickly, looking down off the ledge, at the sidewalk and road below.

“Asten,” He muttered, a hiccup breaking up the word in the middle.

Jason nodded. “Asten. How old are you?”

There was another moment of silence where Bentley just stood still, watching. Listening.

“Twelve,”

Asten didn’t reply to that one, but instead, shuffled his toes closer to the edge of the building. Bentley’s hand drifted up to his mouth and stayed there, and Jason moved, albeit slowly, closer.

“Don’t try to talk me out of it,” Asten muttered with a quiet sob, wiping at his eyes. “It won’t work.”

“I’m not. I’m just talking,” Jason replied smoothly, standing up. “I’ve been in the same position before, myself. I know how it feels; so jump.”

Asten’s eyes widened, and he looked backwards for the first time, eyes lingering on Jason’s helmet. “What?”

Asten started to cry harder, bringing his hands up to his face.

Jason’s head turned subtly in the direction of Asten’s eternally buzzing phone. “But I have a feeling that isn’t the case.”

Asten said nothing, crying nearly uncontrollably into the sleeves of his Gotham Academy blazer. “I hate it here.”

“So did I,”

Asten tugged at his own hair, squeezing until his knuckles turned white again. “Why… didn’t you… jump?”

Jason breathed in and out deeply. “My brother cared enough to show up before I could.”

Just then, a round of two or three sirens faded softly into Bentley’s earshot, and Asten turned on a dime, glaring dangerously at Jason with a fire in his eyes. “You called the cops?”

“No,” The Red Hood replied lowly, grabbing Asten’s phone and holding it up so he could see the caller ID on the screen. It said Nico. “But I bet I know who did.”

Jason held his hand out, up toward Asten. His other hand was holding onto the grappling gun he had on his hip. “You wanna come down so you can talk to him?”

Asten stayed on the ledge for a few moments, shaking, crying, contemplating everything and nothing. It was probably the scariest few moments Bentley had ever witnessed.

That’s when Asten caved, reaching back and taking Jason’s hand. The vigilante grabbed him steadily by the arms and helped him off of the ledge, crying and all. Nico ran to him.

Everything went black.

And then he jumped awake again, gasping deeply. He blinked a few times — they were in the bedroom with Asten.

Apparently Jason and Asten had more of a history than Bentley realized. Maybe that’s why Jason was here? Even though Asten didn’t know it was him?

“Bad dream?” Jason questioned softly, and despite already knowing he was very much awake and alert, Bentley jumped at the sound of his voice.

“Mhm,” He hummed quietly, sitting up and re-situating himself.

“Secret Keeper stuff?”

“Mhm,” He repeated.

He stared at his phone for a few more moments before he texted Jason: I saw a memory. You getting Asten off a ledge.

You said you’d been in that position before.

Would you have really done it? Jumped?

More silence, this time even more tense, thicker. Jason’s typing bubbles came up and went away a few times, and then his message came through:

Back then? I think so.

Bentley typed again. Why didn’t you?

Dick showed up.

Would you do it now? Was the next message Jason got.

Typing bubbles came and went on Bentley’s phone again, before a one-word text came through: No.

Bentley exhaled a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding.

You promise?

“I promise, Bentley,”

He glanced up at Jason, who was looking back at him with his white streak and greenish-blue eyes.

More quietness passed.

“Jason?”

“Hm?”

Bentley blinked again, clearing his throat subtly. Glanced at his friends to make sure they were really asleep. “I watched you die,” He whispered. “When I was kidnapped, I… saw it.”

Jason breathed out, shifting on the chair, becoming increasingly uncomfortable. He opened his mouth; nothing came out.

“The Joker, I was… and I couldn’t…” Bentley took a breath. “I saw all of it.”

No one spoke.

“I already told you but I… want you to know that…” Bentley sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m really, really glad you’re alive.”

Another long spurt of silence passed. Bentley just sort of looked at Asten, watching his chest rise and fall beneath the quilt.

“Kid…”

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” Bentley continued, glancing up at Jason, who looked oddly tense. “It’s okay.”

So Jason didn’t say anything.

Jason’s eyes traveled back up to Bentley and bounced around for a few moments, his expression darkening at his words. “You aren’t going to die.”

Jason didn’t speak, but he had a detective-y look on his face again.

“I just want to make the right choices. To unlock a good one,” Bentley continued with a sigh. “Which is why I need your help.”

Jason leaned forward in his chair. “Kid-“

“It’s not hard. You can say no, I just…” He squeezed the blanket between his fingers. “I want to go visit my father.”

Silence.

“And I want you to take me,”

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere

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