Tumgik
#Superman: ...wait DID YOU LEARN FLIPS FROM A CHILD!?
batcavescolony · 1 year
Text
*before Robin is introduced to the JLA*
Batman: *does some complex gymnastics move*
Superman: oh that was amazing move who taught you that? A master from the mountains? A ancient teacher? Someone that trained for hundreds of years?
Batman: *knowing damn well he got yelled at by an 9year old for 6hs to perfect that move* yeah...something like that
7K notes · View notes
cruelfvkingsummer · 4 years
Text
Henry x Reader: If I could never give you peace. (3/3)
Tumblr media
Plot: The one where the rain is always gonna come but your love has never been clearer.
Part 1 - Anywhere I want, just not home - the one where Henry can never come home. (Inspired by: My Tears Ricochet)
Part 2 - My kingdom come undone. -  the one where his faithless love is the only hoax you’ll believe in. (Inspired by: Hoax)
TW: Sad, Emotional, Comfort, Awkwardness, Fluff, it’s kinda long?sorry
It’s the first time in a while that you had woken up before the sun. Henry had left your home with the promise of not bothering you until you were ready to let you calm down and give you as much space as you need after the heavy and emotional day you had.
“You have my number,” he whispered, standing on your doorstep. “Just … let me know.”
It had been four days since you last saw him. If you had any energy left in you, you would’ve felt horrible. It’s not that you didn’t want to see him it was more like you didn’t know how to cross that bridge: the awkwardness, the stepping on egg-shells type of conversation .... you weren’t sure if you had the strength to go through all that yet.
But you still very much felt his presence in the little ways he allowed himself to exist in your space.
The little trinkets he gave you had become a habit and never stopped – on the first day it was three pieces fruits you haven’t seen or tasted before placed on a wooden bowl in your doorstep, the next day it had been a bouquet of wildflowers wrapped in some string-rope and tied in a poorly-shaped bow, and yesterday it had been a medium-sized smooth rock that had a peculiar formation and looked like it had crystals growing from a hole at the center. It was still kinda moist and looked suspiciously like it came from that rumored small waterfall that was a two-hour walk away from this town.
It felt weird that he was here when the whole purpose of you even being here was to get away from him. The last couple of days didn’t even feel real. How was he even here? Isn’t his publicist and manager absolutely going crazy running around and looking for him. Isn’t the whole world looking for him?
A movie star in his level just can’t disappear from the world and not let them know.
You picked your phone up, texting your best friend but hiding the fact that she was right and Henry did find you, and opened up Google. You had learned early on of your relationship with Henry not to look up your name or his on any news outlet to spare yourself from the frustration and anxiety. You even had to create a separate private social media accounts a week before the two of you decided to go public. His pr team had been helpful in erasing any other old accounts you had since Henry wanted you to be as safe as possible from doxxing and hackers.
Still, you had to know. You typed up his name and closed your eyes as it loaded.
When you finally gathered enough courage to see it, what you read left you in a state of shock.
“Henry Cavill on another week-long bender? Break-up with longtime girlfriend is rumored to be the reason!”
“Henry Cavill drops his most anticipated character as Sherlock Holmes in the upcoming film Enola!”
“Did the Superman hunk cheat on his beau?! Our sources say so!”
“Movie star, Henry Cavill posts a photo in social media pleading his fans and the media to leave his ex-girlfriend and her family alone during their break-up, says he is ‘Taking all the blame.’Check it out on page 6!”
“Timeline of the lost love that broke Henry Cavill.”
Different articles of Henry going back and locking himself in your shared home were posted, hundreds of photos of him looking half dead yet carrying different forms of alcohol spread all over the internet, and there was even a hashtag for the fans trying to find you for his sake which Henry shot down immediately with a single post form his hefty instagram account.
You couldn’t believe that all this happened when you decided to disappear. You genuinely didn’t think anyone would care much less Henry. You thought disappearing for a while would help your process of slowly disappearing in obscurity after being involved with such a big personality such as Henry for such a long time.
It seemed to have back fired tremendously to your absolute horror.
It must be why your best friend sounded so stressed out every time you texted a few hours later than you were supposed to. It suddenly makes sense now. You have to treat her to some meal and a full-expense paid vacation after all that she took head on to protect you.
Letting out a shaky breath, you decided it was useless to hide in your house when you decided you would give the two of you another chance; you put your running shoes on and decided a walk would be a great way for you to relax. You carefully packed your little tote bag, bringing with you some water, your leftover sandwiches for breakfast, and the last piece of fruit that Henry gave you two days ago.
Staring at the piece of fruit you couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head in disbelief.
It really was a wonder how someone as big as him managed to sneak in and out your doorway for weeks now without ever getting caught –
The two of you froze, comically wide-eyed and shockingly looking at each other, when you opened the door. He was bending down about to place another bouquet of wildflowers, this time wrapped in some expensive looking scarf looking like a raccoon that had been caught stealing leftovers in the trash.
The silence and surprised lasted for only a few seconds but you swore time slowed down to punish you even more.
“Hi, sorry,” he stood up so quickly, flushing so hard you managed to see it despite the lack of sunlight. “I was just … I didn’t think you would be awake. Here.”
He hesitantly offered you the flowers, one hand on his back like a little child. The scene was so shocking and sudden that you couldn’t help but let out a surprised snicker at this awkward situation, making him look down bashfully.
“Thank you,” you whispered, taking it from him and smelling it. Flowers in the shops in New York usually lose their scent or smells fake due to the chemicals placed in it to make it live longer but something about the wildflowers in this countryside just smells so sweet you could almost taste it in your tongue. “They’re so pretty.”
You can see him lose the tension in his back at your compliment. There was a tense moment of silence but not the kind that could suffocate – it was hopeful and understandably awkward, like talking to your high-school crush for the first time where every single movement had to count. “Were you about to go to the market?”
You shook your head, moving back a bit to close your door and fully step out of the house. “’was just gonna take a walk. The hike trail they have is beautiful.”
“Oh, okay,” he cleared his throat, doing his best not to make you uncomfortable – looking for any signs of distress so he could back off immediately and leave even though all he wanted to do was stare at you in order to commit every single new thing about you into his memory in case you disappear on him again.
He knew this was not part of the plan, and technically he was kinda intruding on your time to ‘think’ about the next step on your relationship but he couldn’t help but try to milk every single moment he could spend with you due to his own desperation fill the void you left on his heart after the separation.
You hesitated when the two of you were out in your little yard, trying to ease the tension just a little bit by making polite small talk no matter how painfully awkward it is. “W-Where are you staying by the way?”
“Oh, just a few blocks away. There’s a little bed and breakfast in there, t’was the only thing available on such a short notice.” He pointed at the general direction on your left, his movement making his scent waft in your direction. You could recognize his cologne anywhere – you gave it to him after all, he never wore anything else after that. “The owners were kind enough to lend me their daughter’s bedroom. Must’ve felt bad for the poor lost idiot wandering around the streets.”
You looked away, trying not to show him your amusement in imagining this man wandering around these foreign streets when he couldn’t even buy a sandwich in New York without being hounded by fans and strangers alike.
“That’s nice …”
“Their daughter’s room has pink furniture and Hello Kitty wallpapers in it,” he added almost mindlessly, as if he couldn’t believe it either. This confession ripped out a giggle from your mouth that you couldn’t hold back.  
“Are you serious?” you snickered, covering your face to hide your laughter, that you couldn’t see how he had frozen on the spot for a few moments, taken aback at seeing your smiling face and hearing a bit of your laughter even for just a moment. It felt like a fragment of his soul had been pieced back together and healed magically.
“Y-Yeah, um,” he muttered doing his best not to openly gawk at you and placed his hand behind his back as he slowly walked with you. “, it’s nice though, got good windows and stuff.”
You tried not to laugh anymore than you did in fear of actually offending him when he had been staying in there for your sake – and for the sake of your crumbling relationship that was dangling on this string that the two of you call a vacation.
“I, uh, leave you alone for your walk. I’ll see you arou –“
“Wait!” you couldn’t believe you actually called out to him and by the look on his face he couldn’t believe it either. Or maybe it was the fact that you reached out your hands to hold his in order to stop him from walking away. He made a full stop, slowly moving his body so the two of you were facing each other and not standing side by side, gently flipping his hand so he could hold feel the warmth in the palm of your hands.
It almost feels foreign how rough his hands were. But nothing could’ve made you forget how perfectly it encapsulated yours – like it had been specifically crafted by a kind god for you.
“W-Walk with me? We don’t have to talk. It’ll be nice. I have sandwiches,” you muttered quickly, words coming out in a rush. This time it was your turn to turn red as a tomato.
Henry had been unaware he had been holding his breath until the necessary need to breath out took over. He smiled, grateful at your merciful heart that finally found it in her to start forgiving him if only for a little.
“You had me at sandwiches.”
The two of you started walking around town, window shopping in it’s tourist shops and even loitering by a bakery just to smell the fresh bread baking while the two of you ate your day-old sandwich laughing at each others shenanigans.
When the two of you were about to walk back home you could start to feel the growing harshness of the sun above you. He couldn’t help but chuckle when you tried to hide yourself under his massive shadow.
“Here, let me,” he murmured, taking the flowers you had been carrying in your hand and removing the scarf wrapped around it. He folded it diagonally in half and raised it to his chest to show you his plan. “May I?”
You nodded, giving him permission. He gently gathered your hair in his hand, hooking it in  one of your shoulders as he placed the makeshift bandanna on your head and tied it under your hair. The swift movement behind you and the way his soft breaths and nimble fingers hit the nape of your neck made you shiver, the intimacy a bit too much after a month of  seclusion but more than welcomed.
When he was done he placed your hair back down again, smiling down at you apprehensively. “That alright?”
You smiled up at him, softly nodding to hide your frenzy at such an innocent action. “Thank you.”
“Alright, let’s go then,” he beamed.
He turned, ready to start the slow and leisure stroll back to your house when you had a surge of courage go through you as you meekly reached for his hands clearly surprising him enough that he tripped a bit on his feet, instinctively making him tighten his hold on your hands as he tried to stabilize himself.
You stifled a giggle at his flushed face, “Let’s go.”
-----
When you heard the soft knock on the door your door you couldn’t help but smile. You quickly stride towards the door, unlocking and opening it to see Henry smiling down at you with the large wicker basket on his hands.
“Hi! Good morning!” you greeted, getting on your tiptoes to give him a short hug. “I’m almost done, come in.”
It had been about three weeks since the two of you stopped skirting around each other and actually made efforts to heal your relationship. It started with the short morning walks around the village, then when you had finally more comfortable around him it grew into shopping in the farmer’s market and buying each other small trinkets and exchanging purchases at the end of the day, and then the two of you decided to start eating breakfast together everyday in every local shops and café you could find and in a way meet so many of the kind residents who started to figure out that the two of you were ‘sort of’ together but never asked any questions, finally it had grown into both of you spending every waking hour of the day together until it started to feel like all the wounds had started to close.
The scars were still there and it was never the same as before but now you can look at him and not feel the deep resentment and pain that had sucked out all the color in your life, and for you that was enough for now.
To live and learn to love him again for the hope of it all.
The two of you had started to be quiet known as the budding sweetheart in the village, your name never being separated from the other.
“Well, if it isn’t Henry and (Y/N), what are you both up to today?”
“Henry! (Y/N)! I have fresh loaves just for you!”
“Will Henry and (Y/N) be visiting today as well?”
“Look, its Henry and (Y/N), set their table for them by the window, quickly.”
You were pretty sure the two of you had eaten and walked in every single store the town had to offer. Henry even managed to rent one of those heavy and vintage looking-motorcycles that was more machine than seats so the two of you can fully explore everything this place had to offer. You had been caught in the rain that day but the two of you just laughed it off, even when you managed to destroy your favorite dress with the amount of mud that got in it and the lightning threatened to blast the two of you to kingdom come.
It was a good day – just like today was going to be, you could feel it.
The two of you had planned two days ago to go on a proper picnic by the waterfalls where Henry confessed, albeit hesitantly, he did find the stone he gave you a while back. You didn’t bother to ask how he managed to carry such a heavy thing all the way down the mountain.
Henry carefully sat at the rickety wooden chair you have, just staring as you paced around the little kitchen available to you. You were making some finger food for the two of you to enjoy while Henry was assigned to get the lunch you had ordered yesterday in your favorite little restaurant on the other side of town.
It just dawned on him how much he missed seeing you up and messing around the kitchen every time he got home from his walks with Kal. No matter how much you hated waking up early you always made sure to cook him a little something before crashing back in bed or in the sofa so he can wake you up when he arrived and the two of you can eat breakfast together.
And if he didn’t fuck up as much as he did the two of you would’ve continued that little tradition you both had until both of you were old and gray. But it doesn’t matter now; he had to focus on fixing everything with you like his life depended on it.
Cause it did.
“Okay, it’s done,” you closed the wicker basket and Henry snatched it out of your arms. “You ready?”
He smiled down at you, wondering if you knew that if you asked for him to drop everything in his life and live the rest of your lives in this hidden little village in England his answer would’ve been the same.
“Yes.”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
“I can’t believe I always let you talk me into doing physical activity, Hen,” you gasped, taking his hand that was offered to you. He was more than fine, walking the steep hill and carrying the heavy basket that had all your food and drinks in it with barely an audible gasp.
You really thought it would be easy for you since you had been doing nothing but take walks and run for the past two months alone but it seemed you were nowhere near his god-like stamina.
“Were near,” he promised you, gently pulling you up a particular steep collection of rocks, a gentle hand on your waist as you tried to catch your breath.
“Oh, look at me I’m Superman and I don’t need to rest when I climb mountains,” you mocked him with heavily exaggerated posh British accent making his booming laughter echo out amongst the trees.
“Get on my back then.”
The both of you stopped, the light mood dying along with his words, and Henry mentally cursed himself to high-heavens for ever bringing it up. The two of you had just started to get comfortable with each other and had just started to hold hands and hug goodbye and good morning everyday but … this one might be a bit too much just yet. It had been a little thing the two of you had for him to always give you a piggyback ride when you were already about to arrive home  when he drags you out of your house and make you join his walk with Kal so it came out in the one moment his defenses were down.
“I’m –“
“Please?” you smiled up at him, squeezing his hand gently to let him know it was okay. And that you were okay.
He sighed in relief. It was actually quite scary how well you can still read him despite the shit he made the two of you go together. He wonders what he did in his past life to not only deserve you but also be given a second chance when he managed to fumble the bag so badly.
He took the hand that was cupped in his and gently set it on his shoulders. He couldn’t help but hold his breath as you pressed your chest on his back and wrapped your arms around his neck. This had been the closest the two of you had been since the breakup three months ago and he could honestly cry at how much he missed your body against his.
“There we go, love,” he grunted a bit from the effort when he started to lift you up. Your breath on his neck was made more apparent from the slight perspiration on his body. He hopes you didn’t notice the shiver that came over his body as he gritted his teeth to calm himself down.
You were so soft – so, so soft and perfect next to him.
He squeezed the back of your knees softly and jumped a bit so you sat higher on his waist which made you squeal. “Let’s go, cowboy!”
Walking with you on his back was genuinely therapeutic. You kept pointing on different weird plants, local birds resting on the trees around you, and any colorful wildflowers you might find – he tries to entertain you by bending you down a bit so you can pick the ones you like until you had a bundle of them in your hands.
It was about five minutes later when the two of you heard the falls, which made you squeal and jump from excitement off his back. “Come on, Hen!” you screamed, taking his hand and pulling him to run with you, now apparently full of energy.
You gasped in awe, seeing the body of water in front of the waterfalls; the place was beautiful and was seemingly untouched. A few hanging ropes on the trees and a rusted metal jar overrun by moss was the only sign of humans ever stepping foot in this slice of paradise in front of you.
Henry himself had only found this when he was running on the opposite side of the hike trail where he knew you liked to take your walks before you knew he was here so as not to give you a shock when you accidentally cross paths. Then he asked the homeowner, wondering if people were allowed to take a swim in there and they assured him it was free to the public but the locals had gotten quite sick of it.
It had easily become his favorite spot, just to think.
You and Henry quickly set your base, placing the thick blanket on the ground and pulling out the towels you will need for later. He had given you the ‘go ahead’ to take a dip first, firstly cause he brought you here to enjoy the cold water and secondly, because he wasn’t sure if he had enough self-control not to pop a stiffy if you were ever to undress in front of him.
“Bear, the water is amazing!”
In his surprise, he accidentally dropped one of the wooden glass he had been pulling out of the basket, not sure if he heard you right. He wasn’t even sure if you were aware of what you just said cause you were still happily laughing and swimming around behind him.
He looked away, using his breathing exercise he had to learn to control himself in front of you, reminding himself to calm down and not cry or pass out in front of you because you might or might not have accidentally called him the term of endearment you had graciously given him on the end of your third date with each other where you had stayed the night and made love for the first time.
You had woken up, lying on his chest, giggling at his chest hair and how he was like a bear preparing for hibernation. The name had stuck for years and he had no problem with it whatsoever.
It was overwhelming hearing you say it again. It was one of the few signs he had that all of his efforts had not been for naught and that you still had some sort of love left for him in your bruised heart.
Sometimes he thinks you genuinely do not know the power you have over him.
He gathered himself and stood up, removing his shirt and shoes and smiled at you. You were already on the other side, near the actual falls, waving at him to follow. Even in just your simple white cotton underwear he could swear you were a water nymph set on enticing poor fools like him to drown in your home.
Still, now having had a taste of what life was like without you, he knows he would gladly take your hand and follow you willingly on his watery grave if it meant spending an eternity in your arms.
He quickly swam over, reaching your end of the falls and gratefully accepting your hands as help. The falling water from above made everything fuzzier and blurry but your smile was just as bright in his eyes. 
After a few moment of enjoying nature’s shower he felt your hands gently cupping his as as you pulled him to bend down towards you.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” you whispered, and despite the harsh slaps of the water on the stones he could still hear you so clearly, could still feel the warmth of your velvet skin on his as the two of you were chest to chest from the effort of not slipping down the wet and mossy rocks. “It’s beautiful.”
He knew he shouldn’t – knew he was risking the little progress he has made with you for an irresistible urge but it was like his brain has officially fallen out of his head and you just looked so beautiful in the early morning light with the droplets of water clinging to your lashes that his heart decided to take the reins and give him a shot of strength he so desperately needed.
He placed his palm on your face, testing the water and rubbing his thumbs on your cheeks. When you didn’t pull back even a little bit but just stared at him wide-eyed and trusting  he leaned in slowly, eyes not leaving yours and hoping to any god that existed to place whatever luck he had left in this lifetime to this very moment.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked, voice so shaky it would be a miracle if you heard. “Just a little bit?”
He saw you suck in a breath, looking up at him through your lashes and he swore his heart had stopped beating in fear and anticipation. Yet when you smiled he felt the skies above open in relief. You gently wrapped your arms around his waist easily sliding into his personal space just like he had dreamt you would, standing so close to him your nose were touching and the two of you were sharing a single breath.
“Please.”
That was all the permission he needed. He softly touched your lips together, drinking in the water that settled on the center of your lips and gave both the top and the bottom a soft peck as if familiarizing himself to his forgotten home. He gently ran his hands on your hair, angling your head just right so he can finally give you the kiss he had been imagining in his head.
The kiss that was full of everything that he could never convey: his sorrow for ever letting you go and forcing you two to reach this point of no return, his gratitude for finding it in your heart to give him a lifeline when he swore he was going to drown in the ocean of misery he had put himself under, and his love for you that would’ve never waned even if you decided you were going to curse him for the rest of your life.
When the two of you finally pulled away, he couldn’t feel his knees or any of his limbs for the matter. “Thank you,” he breathed out, licking his lips to ensure he had gathered whatever taste you had left, selfish and hungry and desperate.
You had wrapped yourself in him, your skin touching his felt like coming back home after going to war and he gasped at the familiarity of how perfectly your body fit against his – he couldn’t stop his hands from slowly roaming around your body just to make sure you were real and that this wasn’t some cruel trick played by his mind. One he would wake up from and see the plain lonely ceiling of his broken home in New York.
He doesn’t think he would be able to survive that.
But it was real, and you were hugging him, and both your bodies were shaking from the sobs that was muffled by the crashing water all around you.
“I missed you so much, my love,” he confessed, burying his face on the crook of your neck.
It wasn’t much, and he doesn’t think the two of you will ever get out of this pain unscathed, but he hopes the running water would strip all the pain in both of your hearts and finally heal your souls so it can be one once again.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
The two of you had decided to dry off and lay down on the blanket looking up at the trees that partially covered the sky. Time seemed to freeze and the whole world seemed to cease to exist except in this little corner the two of you shared where everything was tranquil and your hearts could rest.
Both your heads were the only thing that connected the two of you together as you both laid down in opposite directions with arms spread wide, one of his shoulders being used as your pillow as you traced your fingers on his face. He was on his back and you were on your side and even though your view was upside down you still couldn’t help but try your best to familiarize yourself with what you thought would only exist in your tattered memories.
You giggled when he wrinkled his face every time you hit a ticklish spot, your mellowed laughter and whispered conversations getting lost at the sound of nature around you but the two of you didn’t bother to care. The two of you were tracing back your steps, both broken and bruised and limping after such a cruel and vicious journey but it didn’t matter anymore, cause this love was familiar and so so good and it would always lead you back home where you would heal and draw stars around each of your scars.
“It’s so … pleasant here.” Henry observed, opening his eyes and staring at the great above beyond him. You followed his lead, laying on your back and cloud-gazing with him. The harsh light from the sun has been covered by the branches of the trees but the sunlight that managed to peek through it made everything look more ethereal and serene.
“I know,” you agreed, letting the stillness of the moment soak up in your skin. “I could stay here forever.”
He couldn’t help but let your words echoed in his head. The foreign seeds of doubt and fear that had never been there before starting to plant itself in his head.
Because you looked so happy here, in fact, being away from him and all the horrors that was his life has made you glow and grow like never before.
It was like you belong here.
In places where the rising sun and chirping birds would wake you up and not the door slamming when he has to rush for his business meetings only having the time to give you a rushed kiss you goodbye. You deserve being able to take your walks leisurely in peace without hounding cameras and screaming strangers trying to violate as much of your personal space as possible. You deserve slow mornings, friendly neighbors, and a man who would be able to give you this consistent sense of peace and serenity in your everyday life.
And he wasn’t sure if he could be that man.
“What’s wrong?” you asked, sitting up and hovering over him. The bleeding light of the sun behind you made you look like an angel to his eyes and he fears being with him would be your ruin.
But he doesn’t know if he was benevolent enough to let you go.
“I just … I want you to know,” he breathed, eyes going hazy at the many thoughts that are running in his head and the worries and doubts that tries to drown him. “I will love no one else but you in this lifetime. And – and I promise to give you nothing but happy memories from here on out. I know, sometimes our love can seem like it’s for show and we always have to put up this façade for the world but … but I would die for you in secret.”
“Hen, what are you –“
“Would that be enough?” he whispered voice shaky from fear and desperation. “Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?”
You were stunned; the words you wanted to say are stuck in your throat as you stare at this broken man in front of you. You knew the past couple of months had been an absolute nightmare for the two of you but the time apart really put everything into perspective for the both of you in such different ways it almost seemed like the heartbreak the two of you went through had been necessary for the you to grow.
For him, he saw how much you had sacrificed to be with him. The prideful, traditional man in him had always been more than happy of the fact that he was able to give you everything you could ever want with a snap of his fingers – his ego doubling in size every time you grace him with your bright smile and sweet giggles every time he gave you gifts and material things. But it was only when his money no longer worked for his favor that he realized how much you had truly loved him just for him when you decided that he was worth all the shit you had put up with. You deemed him worth losing parts of yourself to the world if it meant he gets to go home to you, you allowed yourself to but put on the spotlight every single day of your life if it meant he wouldn’t be alone in that lonely pedestal he was placed in. The separation put him in a place where he never wants to be ever again and showed him how much he had depended on you to be his home and lighthouse in the storm that was his life – and when he lost that he learned a type of fear that knew no bounds. The type of fear and desperation that felt like getting chained down into the deepest pit of the ocean with no one hearing your screams for help.
He shudders even thinking being back in that empty home again.
But for you, it was different. The painful experience of losing Henry helped you find yourself again, the one you had lost when you drowned yourself trying to love him. You learned that you didn’t need Henry to find happiness in your life because there were so many others who are willing to shower you in whatever aspect of love you lack. It made you closer to your friends, your parents and even yourself cause when it felt like there had been no one there for you, you always had yourself. But it also showed you that it didn’t matter if life away from him would be paradise– cause you would’ve dove headfirst to the depths of hell’s burning rivers if it meant being with him. You love him, amidst all the pain and heartbreak and all the chaos in between. You have and will always love him even if the two of you didn’t work out and the lived separate lives keeping your lost love as a fuzzy but warm memory in your past. You would’ve loved him till your dying day. And no amount of pain in the world would change it.
“Hey, look at me,” you cradled his face, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. “I don’t need it, I don’t. I just need you next to me, just like always, okay? I don’t want peace. I need you.”
He sat up, dragging your body so you were sitting on his lap, resting your head on the crook of your neck as the two of you kissed whatever part of each other you could reach. He had you cradled in his arms so scared of ever losing this feeling ever again.
“I love you,” you confessed in a hushed whisper, the three magical words like a balm on Henry’s broken heart. The sobs shook his whole body as the two of you repeated and mended the once broken bond between the two of you. Three words of promises and love being whispered in between your kisses.
He was so tired, so broken and exhausted beyond belief that having you in his arms once again was like having all the weight and painful shackles in his soul removed. His days of retribution were over, now he can rest knowing he finally had you in his arms once again.
He was loved.
And he was home.
---------------
[Henry and (Y/N) spotted house-hunting all over London after disappearing for four months!]
“Do you like it?” Henry beamed as you ran around the empty house. This had been just the third house you had looked at for today but he had a good feeling about it.
“It’s so big!” you cheered, your voice echoing a bit in the empty house. “Imagine me cooking in here when you arrive home like a proper housewife,” you teased, posing on the kitchen island making him laugh.
The two of you had made an executive decision to not go back to the mess that was waiting for you in New York and finally settle down, like you had always talked about, in London. Henry had immediately sent his secretary to scope out any houses available all over the country so the two of you could start picking out the ones you liked the most.
One he had a taste of peace in that little village the two of you spent your days in he had never wanted to put you through the noise in New York again. He’d just have to bite the bullet and travel back and forth from home to America if that’s what it would take to give you a home.
He walked towards you, picking you up and setting you down on the counter. “I think you like it here.”
“What about you?” you bashfully asked, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him soft kisses that he gratefully accept.
“I told you, I’ll pick whatever makes you happy,” he hummed, making you pout. He couldn’t help but laugh knowing how indecisive you were about this and that he was of no help to you as he genuinely just wants to find a home where the two of you can be safe and veiled from the world.
“It’s got nice windows,” he tried to help, nudging your cheek with his nose.
“Doesn’t have Hello Kitty wallpapers, though,” you grinned down at him, the inside joke not being lost on you.
“Well, the realtor said it’s a fixer upper,” he added seriously, before the two of you burst out laughing, looking like love-struck fools.
“I like it,” you declared, sealing it with a deep kiss. “, and I love you.”
Henry couldn’t help but feel this warmth spread out of his chest hearing those words he thought he would never hear you utter again no matter how much you had repeated it to him every night. “I love you too. More than you would ever know, darling.”
[ Mr and Mrs. Cavill?! Our sources confirmed that Henry and (Y/N) had been secretly engaged for months and had held an intimate wedding in some unknown village north of London. Details in page 6!]
You felt like you were still dreaming, the golden ring on your finger is the only proof you have of the fairy tale that just happened a few hours ago.
You are Mrs. Cavill.
You had married the love of your life.
Henry had proposed to you a few months ago in front of your chosen friends and family when you thought you were just gathering to celebrate his win in the Oscars. The two of you had agreed to keep it a secret as you planned for the wedding to avoid any problems with the fans and paparazzi.
It had been his idea to go back to where the two of you had rekindled your love and found each other again. You cried in his arms the moment he had suggested such a perfect plan. Fortunately, everything just fell into place as you planned for it.
It was like it was the gods’ way of apologizing for all the pain the two of you had to go through so they made sure to get rid of any more problems that could’ve given you a bridezilla fit.
He had shipped everyone important to that little village, happily greeting your friends in that town who only knew you both as the Henry and (Y/N) that liked eating breakfast by the window and loved you both anyway.
The wedding was held by that waterfall, carefully constructed so as not to disturb the nature that kept that slice of heaven safe for years. He had donated thousands of dollars to ensure that that area would be protected and preserved – so it can be enjoyed by everyone for years to come just like the two of you did years ago.
Now here you were using the very same motorcycle that you used when the two of you roamed around town in the middle of a storm laughing at each other at how bad of an idea it was. But now, instead of the rickety and fragile relationship you two had the two of you were now healed and your souls had finally been tied as one.
You hugged his waist tighter, giving him a kiss on the neck to catch his attention.
“Aren’t you glad you stalked me down here?” you jabbed at him making him break out laughing.
“Best decision of my life even though half the world thought I was dead.”
Both your joyous laughter echoed into the night, the humming of the great machine giving you a sense of deja-vu as you looked up at the night sky as the same thought ran in your head during that stormy night.
Today was a good day.
[Baby Cavill is out and a short post from his Instagram explains that Daddy Cavill is retiring!]
Henry sat on his rocking chair, smiling at you and your daughter as you played a little game of tag even though she could barely walk much less run away from you. The game more or less consisted on her bumbling about and crawling on the soft grass as you pretended to barely catch her to make her shriek in laughter.
“Dada, dada!” his little Emily called to him, little hands raised up and grabby, giggling again when you pretended to catch her shoes instead of her feet.
He took it as his cue to play the hero, standing from his seat and quickly scooping up his little treasure. “I got you, my princess!“ he kissed her cheeks, softly throwing her in the air a bit to hear her laughter.
You had stood up from your position in the ground, patting your dress down as you slid in Henry’s arms. The early morning London temperature made you shiver, plastering your body as close as possible to the human furnace that was your husband.
Even little Em had the same idea, burying her face in her father’s neck as she babbled and tried to talk to him despite the obvious lack of words in her vocabulary
“You’re warm,” you giggled up at him, making him playfully roll his eyes. He placed a kiss on your head walking both his girls near the fire he had been stoking while the two of you had been playing. It was almost that time of the year when the London snow would start falling so he had made sure to keep the two of you warm the best that he can when you came out to play.
“I’m glad my life’s purpose is being fulfilled, “he joked. “Do you want to go out today for breakfast? The ladies in the café had been looking for Emily for a while now.”
You hummed, about to agree when you heard the slam of the door inside your house.
“Daaaad! Arthur made us miss the bus!”
“I did not, you’re such a whiny baby! This is why I don’t hang out with you in school!”
Henry couldn’t help but chuckle, passing off your dozing little girl to you as the two of you stood up and greeted your sons fighting and bickering with each other.
“Drive the boys to school then brunch?” he offered and you nodded, giving him a kiss to seal the deal.
You watched as Henry tried to mediate your two sons into not killing each other, laughing as he seriously listened to their mundane troubles as if it was the worst thing in the world. You looked back down on the little angel in your arms who was entertaining herself with chewing on your hair making you chuckle and kiss her chubby cheeks.
You walked in with your boys, their little fight and Em’s babbles filling the house with welcomed noise and the perfect kind of chaos that you welcomed with open arms. Their voices echoing inside the house as they explained to their father the intricacies of how they missed the big yellow truck.
You couldn’t help but silently laugh at yourself, as you observed your growing family and the life that you and Henry had built together. It was a hard journey and it seemed never-ending. Troubles are always around the corner and the rain always comes one way or another but it didn’t matter.
As Henry looked back at you. Raising his keys to signal you to prepare Emily for a long-drive you smiled at him lovingly, remembering the young and rash version of him that dropped everything in his life and tracked you down to this very same village you had made your home in. It makes your heart bloom at the thought of how far the both of you had come.
“You ready, my love?”
Your boys were getting fussy, screaming from the car about being late and how one should stop punching the other, Emily was wiggling in your arms trying to be in his father’s arms her shrieks of protests ringing in your ear, your local ice cream truck passed over your house on cue with a bunch of screaming children running after it in their bikes and screaming in glee at the sprinkled truck to stop.
It would seem Henry was right, he could never really give you peace after all.
But you didn’t have it in your heart to mind.
“Yes.” You whispered, heart and soul filled with bubbling love and adoration for this man who gave you everything good in your life. “,always am.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------
AND SHE’S DONE!!!!!! L-Let me know how yall like it p-please be kind. 
Taglist: @harrysthiccthighss​ @madbaddic7ed​   @summersong69​ @crazybutconfidentaf​  @summersong69​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @coldmuffinpartycloud@agniavateira@crimsonrae@omgkatinka@ myelfroot@ phoenix-out-of-flames @ the-soot-sprite@henrythickcavill@nadinesabre@hausofevans
658 notes · View notes
friggsdc · 3 years
Text
Title: little delinquent pt iv
part iii | part iv
Warnings: Female!reader (bat!sis), mostly plot with family fluff, AU, hurt/comfort
Word Count: 4600~
Synop: It had Bruce and Dick sharing a look for a moment before the latter spoke up, “It’s not like I’m against continuing to expand the family, but…” he eyed the child you held nervously, “please don’t start bringing home every child you find…” he tilted his head, “he’s bad enough.” Bruce settled a light glare at his first son (that definitely wasn’t what Bruce was thinking), though Dick was stilled by the way your eyes narrowed at him instead.
“His name is Terrence,” that was all you said, brushing past as they were suddenly on guard at the inherited Wayne-scowl on your face.
---
 A/N: ee;;;; enjoy me not knowing what this plot is, idk tbh, but it’s fun to write. It’s more plot than fluff, which wasn’t what i meant to write sighs. I’ll probably write companion pieces to this that’s zero plot all fluff. The plot wasn’t meant to be so deep, but I mean, uhm… enjoy papa Bruce and mama Alfred~ 
---
[bigR] Dad’s upset.
[bigR] He’s talking less than usual, not even grunts.
[bigR] I think he’s ignoring me?
[you] crap
[bigR] Worse, there’s no news.
No news? True, you hadn’t seen the info feeds light up, the networks had been offline all day, but nothing from Tim’s side? If you didn’t hate Luthor before, well…
[you] this is giving me a headache ::dizzy_emoji::
[bigR] No kidding, I think he’s figuring a few things out.
[bigR] Patrol with B, everything’s unlocked, bb @ late.
[you] is typing…
             “You sure it’s okay?”
The taller male gave quite the toothy grin, a large hand coming up to pull the awkwardly fitted shirt collar back to center, admiring your new outfit. “You can just bring it back later, besides, I think it’s cuter this way.” After a few hours and an incredibly long phone call between Jason, Tim and yourself, the three of you combined were able to get the suit to come off. 
Tim said he still had a lot to go over, but that the laptop was actually incredibly useful. Much of what Tim had been talking (and geeking) about had been lost on Jason and you, too focused on Terry and wrangling the alien suit off.
Jason said he’d be jealous of the strange futuristic-like material if it weren’t for the second skin-like fit, happily poking fun at Nightwing’s taste in suits.
Most of the work was done on Tim’s side since he apparently already had the ability to take control of the suit. It was something you were rather… anxious about, but unlike the manor, Jason’s place had the advantage of no Bruce and no cameras.
So now you sat in the same pair of pants you’d come over in, the only pair of flip-flops he had. They were far too large for you, but your toes would have to hang on till home, and a large t-shirt that fit well enough. 
“Muscle up, Buttercup” was written on the front, Superman’s flexed arm between the words.
“Your taste in clothes is…”
“Cheap. Like second-hand cheap.”
“But… why…”
“To spite Bruce? I pay more for job-related injuries than money I actually have, it’s been tempting me to go back to crime, honestly.”
“…you sure that’s not to spite Bruce as well?”
“I mean,” he shrugged, an impish grin on his face as he lightly ruffled the top of your hair, causing you to childishly swat his hand away, “isn’t that what everyone else does? It’s fun, you should try it sometime.”
“Uh-huh…” you were honestly too much of a—
“Daddy’s girl,” he snorted lightly, unimpressed.
Before slipping one of Jason’s unused backpacks on, you stuffed the batsuit in the bottom, and the jacket you arrived in on top. Turning just in time to see him picking up Terrence’s sleeping form with incredible gentleness, you cooed lightly.
“You know, you’re not bad at that,” he looked at you, frowning, ears flushing before his attention went back to the bundle in his arms.
“Not even…” instead of moving to take the child from him, you opted to stand still and just watch the interaction instead, as if a point were being made.
Big boy looked like he was terrified of breaking the child in his arms, like an heirloom British teacup, “You look cute like that, a giant teddy bear and a tiny uh... new bat?” Walking over, he turned his eyes to the side, not a single trace of anger towards the situation in his voice anymore, “don’t get used to it,” he muttered, unsure of himself. “But you could get used to it,” you smiled, taking the giant marshmallow from him, “he’ll be around from now on, you know. You’ll have uncle duties~” Your teasing only increased his rising timidness, “right…”
“Well,” he began, heading to the door once you had everything, “I’m already late for patrol, let’s get you home.”
-
Alfred had greeted you at the door and mentioned putting on some tea, and you gladly accepted, though not before you went up and changed. With the promise to be back downstairs in a few minutes, he took Terrence from you to ready him for bed. Adorable child was actually quite active, having tired himself out at Jason’s temporary housing.
Quickly, you’d headed to Tim’s room to empty the contents of your bag in his faraday cage, hoping that it was secure enough being in his room. Once you’d locked the safe’s door, you headed out of his room and down the hall to your own. Sorry Jay, but the shoes were uncomfortable, and the shirt kept trying to strangle you more than the shirt of a giant should. Pajamas sounded wonderful right now.
The now empty backpack was tossed to the side near where Duke had left the your clothes from earlier in the day, and a few immediate items for Terrence. You figured everything else was probably in the nursery now, hoping it was all waiting for you in the next few days. The awkward clothes you’d worn over the suit had been tossed on your day clothes, and then Jason’s shirt and shoes were dropped on top.
The shower was quick, and having changed into a fresh pair of pajamas, you suddenly felt sluggish, your shoulders now heavy with tightness. Come to think of it, your thighs also felt rather wobbly, like jelly… but the only strenuous activity you can remember doing in all honesty was… base jumping… was it the wings? It’s all you could honestly come up with. Maybe you weren’t used to such a thing yet, and as you rubbed your shoulders, you headed back downstairs to the sitting room. “Nn…”
“Sore?”
It was still too early for anyone scary to be home right now, so…
You nodded, collapsing on the small sitting couch, Alfred going to stand from his seat to fix you a cup of tea from the tray on the table. ���I did a dumb thing today. I’m not certain if I regret it or not.” He handed you the tea plate and cup before returning to his original position on a rather regal looking chair, “I’ve already put the Little Master to bed for the evening. The Young Masters went to bed awhile ago, though I suspect, they are not, actually sleeping.” He gave an amused hum at the thought of Damian and Jon and what they were totally not doing. 
He definitely hadn’t noticed when they’d snuck out earlier. Nope, not at all.
It was a long day filled with heightened emotions, anxiety, stress, confusion, and at the end of it, you were just so tired, and Alfred had always been your confidant next to Tim, and—
You tried to keep quiet as you spoke.
“I jumped out of a really tall building. Like… ninety feet up? I’m not certain, I was watching my life flash before my eyes.” He sighed and frowned into his own tea, “Master Bruce has already left for the night, Master Tim is accompanying him, as the boys are… supposed to be here for a night off. I really had hoped you’d grown up to be more intelligent and not as reckless as your brothers.” Or your father, Alfred mused, sipping at his tea, pinky out, the proper macaroni gentlebutler he was.
“I mean, I panicked, I was in a batsuit, I had a lot of intel on me, like, literally stole a laptop and backed up something called Project B (whatever that meant, though you had your suspicions having met Conner), there was a ton of guards outside going from door to door… I don’t have the same muscle mass to fight like my militant brothers, I was scared of what would happen if they caught me, like dad’s reputation?, I may have been overwhelmed by the—”
“—batsuit?” Ah, you looked up from your tea with wide eyes to see him staring, uncertain if the twinkle in his eye was worry or mischief. “Yeah, that. Uhm… Please don’t tell dad,” you sat up straight, gave him your biggest crocodile tears, and were about to clasp your hands together like a beggar before he waved your antics off. “I would not, not unless it endangers your life, Young Miss, you know that. Including young Master Terrence, of course.”
“This afternoon I must ponder over, What you did was, how shall I say, not okay,” he spoke, stern.
He stood to walk over, seating himself next to you while smiling gently, “though I must admit, I am quite curious as to the story behind all of this.” You gave your own small smile as you stared at your tea, “Yeah. I still don’t know all of it yet, myself, but… it’s actually really cool…” The two of you spoke in hushed tones.
Bruce may have been your father, but much like him, you were raised by Alfred, and seeing as you usually weren’t allowed out on the field like the others, your disposition was as Alfred’s was; support. It was something your brothers and father relished in when they had any extra time over the years. You loved to spoil them, and they were readily eager for it. 
It was also thanks to Alfred that you’d learned you had a unique knack for espionage.
Your brothers were raised to protect themselves and others, getting to go out nightly on risky (and deadly) vigilantism escapades. More than that, they not only got to be of use to your father, but they were able to grow up around him, their lives dedicated to the same purpose.
To say you were jealous was an understatement, often worrying Dick and Jay at times.
To say you were your father’s daughter and just as like-minded as him was also an understatement. This was something Tim and Damian understood better than your two eldest siblings.
You were determined as heck.
You graduated from avoiding Alfred’s detection to stalking your father and brothers, skills honed even further as you learned how to use their toys and listen in on their coms system. It was your father’s own fault, leaving you alone all the time.
You would never be useless again.
You would never be left behind again.
“So, your brothers are helping you, then? I am glad of that, it means I need not worry as much,” even though Jason and Damian only knew half the truth, it was Tim who knew everything you did. Duke didn’t want to know and apparently Jon’s dad had warned him not to get involved with “bat business,” and Alfred… “If… If Terry’s parents…” how were you supposed to frame this part, exactly? You ere bothered by the truth of it, so... maybe making it sound worse than it was? If that was even possible... “if they were bad people, like really bad people,” as if suddenly remembering the walls had ears, you lowered your head and voice, barely audible for him to hear, “do you think dad would let me keep him?”
The both of you knew that wasn’t the issue, Bruce had no problem with the child staying, but…
There was something about the boy that seemed to be worrying you…
“If there is one thing I take great pleasure and joy in,” Alfred beamed like the proud father he was, “it’s that at least one of you children turned out more like myself than Master Bruce.” No, honestly, he was so glad you weren’t gloom and doom like your father and siblings, “I’m certain you could tame the wildest of beasts.”
His parentage held no ground here, the two of you understood the meaning behind the words, memories of when Damian met you for the first time after arriving at the manor surfacing, “I think you’ll do just fine with the child. I have all the confidence in the world.”
Maybe you were being overly paranoid about the whole situation.
The evening was finished in comfortable companionship between the two of you, and he’d shoo you away to bed long before it was time for the boys to come home.
After cleaning up and assuring himself that at least someone in the manor went to bed properly, he busied himself with the surveillance of the manor.
He made certain you wouldn’t be caught just because of his curiosities.
-
Through part of the night, you’d begun doing as much research into the relationship between Luthor and CADMUS as you had time for, the past few days having been spent going over only CADMUS information. That was until you got a ping on Luthor’s name written on several specific checks, and gathering as much information available. You looked for key phrases in the news cycle over the past day’s incident, as well as dating back several months. You’d even taken the chip out of your work phone and popped it into the laptop sitting on the bed in front of you, allowing network protocols to take over.
There was only so much the news would give you, so you checked in on security feeds from the area, keywords during phone calls used to see if anyone noticed, satellite intel snapshots, everything. Anything.
The time-sensitive channels still hadn’t opened, no information from other informants was anywhere in the Societies channel logs, not even the time-delayed backlogs.
Someone else was cleaning up.
-
Early morning, the best time to avoid anyone in the manor who had a night life, also just in time to get breakfast as Alfred made the first batch of the day. Though mostly for himself, he’d generally make extras as you’d often join. Heading down the foyer stairs, Terry’s barely conscious form bundled in your arms, you beelined to the kitchen, the smell your guide. “Ah, good morning Young Miss! I even made some for the Little Master, just in case,” Alfred smiled down at the boy in your arms, holding up a small bowl of minced and steamed veggies.
The kitchen was large for an older-modeled mansion, constantly rebuilt with minimal changes, but still cozy and incredibly sustainable. Between the door to the foyer and the opposite wall, where the door to the dining room was, there was a large table. Several shopping lists, foodstuffs, and cookware took up a good portion, but there as still enough room for a small few people to sit comfortably at once.
You smiled, sitting down in the chair the older male pulled out for you, then pushing you in, food for the child set on the table. You situated Terry in your arms, finding a nice spot to rest his bottom without worry of him slipping off, and reached over to spoon some of his meal to him.
Strangely, he didn’t resist much, yawning in between bites as you had to scoop up what tried to spill out of his mouth, “so, how old might you say he is? I’ve been thinking about it, perhaps about a year?” you nodded as you looked up, agreeing with Alfred as he sat down, food cooking behind him in the meantime. “I think… if not that, maybe a few months younger… he can stand, and seems okay with soft solids… I think you’re right, maybe a year?” his clothing size certainly seemed to think the same, Duke having gone to extreme lengths to get a perfectly fitted wardrobe for the boy. He even included a few different larger sizes for the coming year as well.
“Hm…” Alfred leaned on his crossed arms, rested on the table as he eyed the boy, “I suppose we could begin early development lessons with him, signing especially, but I think he can do more, words, possibly.” In response, Terry sneezed, food spraying all over the spoon and bowl in front of the two of you, his eyes still groggy as he slumped in your hold. “Oh dear,” Alfred hummed in amusement, standing to bring you a small terrycloth towel to clean up.
Terry gave a small grunt as he pushed at the cloth now cleaning his face.
“Gonna… Gonna have to get used to that…” the suddenness surprised you, you knew it was a normal human function, but you just hadn’t… expected it.
“I think there will be a great many things for you to get used to from now on, even I will have to relearn a few things. It’s been… a very long time since an infant was in this home.” He went back to finishing his and your meal, a nostalgic and wistful look masking his face. Bruce had no idea what to do with you when you were an infant handed over to him, and it amused Alfred to this day.
Thinking about it, you looked down at Terry, your chin coming to hover over his head, almost as if you were trying to nuzzle him, loud enough for only him to hear, “…mama. S… Say mama.” The child just tilted his head and cooed at you instead, reaching up to pull at your hair again ohdeargodpleasestop.
Releasing your hair from the child’s grasp and holding both of his hands in yours this time, you tried once more, “mama.”
“Mmba,” he blew a raspberry at you as he slurred his speech, becoming more fascinated with the bubbles he blew than your inquiries. “Mm… bah.” He let out a giggle, popped his lips at you and then smiled, trying, and failing thanks to your hold, to reach for your hair again. After several attempts, he settled for turning slightly, resting his head on your chest as he watched Alfred and all of the very shiny cookware.
You flushed, wanting to beam but also feeling incredibly self-conscious about the situation still, it was honestly a lot to get used to. Frowning in determination at the snuggly bug of a child, you tried a different tactic this time, “ma.” He was still more interested in the food being cooked, however, and you heaved a sigh into his head of hair. “Mma,” well, it was a start, and you repeated your previous chant of mama to him, your own eyes wide with what felt like pride.
Was this how Alfred felt?
“Mmba.” Well, as you said, it was a start. With a sigh, you went back to shoving food in his mouth, though quickly you had to wrangle the spoon from his mouth each time. “Stop… biting it, Terry…” you wondered how Conner had gotten so smart in such a short amount of time, wondering if Terry had still been too young when you took him from the bio labs at CADMUS.
“Ah, good morning Sir,” Alfred greeted, and your head shot up to see your father standing in the doorway, bags under his eyes and a yawn hidden behind the back of his hand. “Good morning, Alfred,” he stared at the older man with a frown, obviously trying not to say something. Instead, he looked at you and the child for a long moment, giving both of you a morning greeting. And even though Terry couldn’t properly respond, he did give Bruce the same challenging look as the last time.
He was looking for something out of the ordinary, however, the only thing in the room that was new was Terry, nothing else seemed to be amiss. But you could tell, looking up at him from the corner of your eyes, head still downturned, he was searching.
“Morning dad…” you tried to be light as you smiled at him, nothing is wrong.
“Daah,” Terry tried imitating, but it was lost in the rest of his babbling as he grabbed the food from the spoon. He was making another mess as he shoved it in his mouth, fingers fiddling around tongue and mushy carrots. Thankfully you still had the terrycloth to wipe at his chubby cheeks.
Bruce’s footsteps were as silent as his entrance, stopping next to you and squatting down, large hand, warm and gentle, landing on Terry’s head as he ruffled his hair, “I’d like to talk to you downstairs soon, okay?” He studied Terry for a moment, eyes as brilliant as his own, though it seemed like Bruce almost enjoyed the small head of hair in his palm. You couldn’t tell beyond the awkward chill in the air, but the two of them were giving each other knowing looks, both challenging, though Bruce couldn’t understand why Terry looked at him that way.
He made to stand up, pulling his hand away before Terry could do any damage, cheeks puffing out in a pout. “There’s something I’d like you to look into,” he spoke as he headed back towards the door, a morning coffee handed to him by Alfred, “oh, and you’re not allowed to leave the grounds for the time being. The tracker seems to be faulty.”
Considering you broke them often over the years, well, yeah, of course it was faulty.
Again.
The smile he gave you before he left was smug and you weren’t completely certain as to why, and it was making you really really nervous, “the League computers picked up something quite interesting yesterday.”
“Uh…” Ah yeah. Well heck.
Yeah, metropolis was both a huge risk AND your last outing, you were glad you took the chance though, even if your stunt escalated the situation. You were now officially on house arrest by the most observant secret-wannabe cop in the world.
Then again, there was no telling exactly what he knew.
He might be bluffing.
“Maaam… ah…” Huh? Did he just… Quickly as if borrowed from the speed force, your thoughts of Bruce and the problems at hand seemed to flee as you beamed at Terry. “Mama?”
“Mamhh.”
-
[bigR] Was able to give the drive a quick look.
[bigR] I don’t understand villains. I just don’t.
The hell did that mean?
[steph] c u soon <33
Ah, crap.
-
The table before Bruce had only a few pieces of paper and only two photos. You’d come home nearly a week ago with a new addition to the family, from where he still wasn’t certain. He’d checked and there’d been no missing infant reports that matched up with him, both in looks and location. Tim seemed to be in on it, hiding secrets along with you, and holding back when Bruce would inquire about anything even remotely familiar to the situation. Tim had also been keeping busy with something the past few days, and ever since you’d come home from shopping, he seemed unable to stay still, constantly fidgeting.
Then there was yesterday, when Duke took you out shopping with the boys while Batman had been at the Womb at the League’s watchtower, digging up as much as he could. Which, unfortunately, was just the few scraps of confusing ledes in front of him. The annoying part is how well you avoided the cameras, there were only a few times where he had been able to make you out, the rest he had to guess based on your profile that day.
The subsequent events had started stacking up in a rather annoying fashion. Your tracker’d been broken since you gave everyone a scare a week ago, returning with a child in your arms and something akin to paranoia. Even Tim had been clueless (until he wasn’t), and now even his attitude was giving Bruce pause. It felt more unnerving than bad, something making Bruce’s own stomach knot when he kept coming up with dead ends.
The day you’d gone shopping, the Womb had picked up something the news hadn’t, as the news was calling it nothing more than an accident, and it was that that gave Bruce even more pause. The worst part is that he couldn’t just take a deep dive into the LexCorp building’s system, knowing that much was out of their (or his) hands.
If Cyborg found out that Batman was secretly looking into a non-incident on the League system for family-related business, then he’d never hear the end of it from Superman and the others. He’d have to go out of his way to get into the building, and right now wasn’t the best time to do so, security was increased ten-fold. He’d have to wait it out.
LexCorp wasn’t even reporting it as an incident themselves, but the fact that they were being very stringent about the details, the increase in surveillance, Bruce felt it in his gut; an obvious coverup. The problem was why, there was no way what had happened had been anything short of problematic for Lex, and yet they weren’t filing any kind of paperwork.
They did their best to act as if they didn’t care, but Batman saw all the extra measures, and he also saw the information black hole happening.
LexCorp, no doubt, was scrubbing.
What he had been able to do, however, was gather two snapshots of a black blur that sped out of the building before disappearing into the thick of the city below.
About the same area where Damian’s own tracker took a detour.
“I preferred it when you used to use electrical tape to tape a transceiver blocker to your arm to hide the trackers,” Bruce hadn’t looked up as you approached (and you were dang silent too, even Terry was being chill), “It was much less of a headache.”
“Yeah, but that was when I was a kid. Nothing I do now can hide me from you anymore, the technology is different from back then.”
“Except breaking it.”
“Except that.”
He snorted as you stopped at the table, situating Terry on your hip, and looked down at the photograph that Bruce pushed over to you. It took every bit of training not to give anything away as you picked the photo up and gave it a once-over.
“This is…?” you turned your head to see him with that smug smile from before, tapping the image in your hand with his finger, “this is what I want you to look into.” You would have bristled if you hadn’t known your father better, this was some kind of trap.
“The same day you headed off to Metropolis, intriguingly enough, the LexCorp building had a break-in,” he paused to gather more words, rolling them around on his tongue before swallowing them, I’m worried, and you’re the reason.
“A break-in? I hadn’t heard—”
“No, you wouldn’t have. LexCorp seems to be keeping it from the public knowledge.”
“Then the League computers?”
“Was able to take a few photos from another satellite, these two were the best ones I could find. One of whatever broke in as it took off flying, and another of the same building a few minutes after. No police, no fire crews, nothing.” He was watching your reactions like a hawk, unfortunately you’d played this game so often growing up (learning to lie and stay out of trouble was a skill your brothers and you freaking perfected, even if they got into trouble on purpose), that it was really very easy to just—
“Uhm, but… dad, how? You grounded me, remember? That makes gathering any kind of intel like, y’know, hard.”
The smug smile was back as he pointed at the rather established medical area, the two of you heading over together, “you’re the information broker, I’m sure you can find something useful. It’s not the first time you’ve had to gather information from behind bars, after all,” you really hated how he still felt compelled to remind you of that.
It was once, in a country where no one knew you and where records were shoddy at best.
And on purpose, dangit.
You still weren’t certain how he even found out, besides, he and your brothers had done worse by comparison.
As he began removing the old tracker, you ignored the pain, the lack of anesthetic nothing new to you, too used to it at this point. Not that it was terribly painful. He was precise in skill, second to Alfred, you were too preoccupied with keeping the child still in your lap to notice what he’d been doing prior to your arrival.
All jokes aside, he’d finally gotten ahold of something that could yield actual results.
He looked to the boy again, staring at his familiar features, at his hair, like midnight, “striking how much he looks like us.” You frowned at him.
It was a statement.
The joke wasn’t lost on him.
Or on you.
48 notes · View notes
pricetagofficial · 4 years
Text
The Archer -T.D.
So decided to post the first bit of my Tim Drake fic on here to see what you all think, this is not a reader insert sorry but I hold Rory Queen very close to my heart. I hope you all will love her as much as I do.
Part Two
Warnings: Language, blood, sexual content and probably more. These warnings are for the entire fic, not just this part.
Word count: 1.9k
Tags: @catxsnow​ (Just let me know if you want to be put in the tags)
Tumblr media
Preface
All Aurora could see was gray. Grey ash, grey concrete amongst the dead bodies covered in the grey. Glancing down, she caught sight of two familiar figures. Getting to her feet, Rory ran as fast as her 11-year-old legs could carry her. Falling to her knees, her tiny hands tried to lift the slabs of concrete off the people buried underneath.
"Help!" she screamed. "Somebody help me!"
Rory's arms were seconds away from giving out when two large, muscular arms arrived and began to lift the concrete with her. What she saw underneath only confirmed her worst fears. Letting out a scream of anguish, Rory's eyes met with the lifeless gaze of her parents.
Desperate for any form of comfort, Rory collapsed into the green-clad hero who helped uncover her parents. She felt his strong arms wrap around her in a comforting embrace.
"Hey Green, we need yo-"  The voice of a woman was cut off, the sight broke her heart. The Green Arrow was sat on his knees, holding a little girl who was grieving over the sight of her dead parents.
Green Arrow looked up at his wife and partner. "Canary, help me get her back to base." he said, his own voice strained from holding back sobs. Black Canary gave him a nod, walking over and taking the young girl into her arms.
Green Arrow rose to his feet. "I'll help Red finish up here. Get her out." he ordered.
Black Canary gave him yet another nod and began to walk to her bike. "Can you tell me your name sweetheart?" she asked the sobbing child.
"A-Aurora. But I like Rory more." she responded, hiccuping at the end.
"Aurora? That's a beautiful name." Rory looked up at the beautiful woman carrying her.
"Really?" she asked. "My best friend used to say the same thing."
"Well, your best friend is very smart." The two of them arrived to Black Canary's bike and she gently set the girl down. "I'm going to need you to hold on, can you do that for me?"
Aurora gave her a nod and let the woman place a slightly larger helmut on her head, fastening it tight. Once Rory was ready, Canary set her on the bike and climbed on behind her, keeping the girl close to her chest. Revving up her bike, the two of them took off for the Arrow Cave.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter One
9 Years Later
"Was that supposed to hurt?" The Grey Arrow pulled the mugger's knife out of her shoulder and flipped it around in her hand with a wide grin on her face. Stumbling, the mugger dropped the girl and began to back away. Grey Arrow, knelt to help up the poor girl and the man took this as his chance to escape.
"Where do you think you're off to?" she asked, throwing the already bloody knife into his thigh making him fall to the floor with a cry of pain. Before he could even get the chance to stand up, Grey Arrow put her foot on his chest pinning him to the floor.
"Alright! I give up! Take me in!" he cried.
The grin didn't leave her face as she gripped the knife hanging from his thigh. "I want you to apologize to the lady first," she demanded, the man groaning in pain.
"The hell I will!" he countered. Grey Arrow only turned the knife in his thigh, making him scream in pain.
"I said, apologize." She demanded once again, her voice dropping to a dangerous tone that the criminals of Star City knew all to well.
"Arrow, I don't nee-" the girl started.
"He will apologize, it's considered good manners." Grey Arrow seethed, twisting the knife further.
The man let out a blood curdling scream, "Alright! Fine, I'll apologize!" he cried. At this, Grey Arrow stilled her hand.
"We're waiting."
"I'm sorry! God, I'm sorry! Now let me go!"
Grey Arrow released her grip on the knife, and got to her feet. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?" she asked.
"Fuck you." he spat, gripping his bleeding thigh.
Grey Arrow punched him, knocking the man out. "In your dreams." Then she turned to the girl behind her, staring at her in bewilderment.
"Call the police." She ordered, the girl picked up her phone and began dialing quickly. "Also, don't mention me if you don't mind." and with that, Grey Arrow took off for her bike, hidden a few blocks down.
Dropping down from the fire escape, she landed on her bike gracefully and revved it to life the sleek, black vehicle humming underneath her. Blowing some stray hair out of her face, she took off for Queen Manor.
Pulling into the underside, Aurora Sonnet-Queen removed her domino mask, her brown eyes scanning across the Arrow Cave. Swinging her leg up and off the bike, Rory made her way to her case and out her mask and weapons away safely.
The Arrow Cave had been quiet ever since Roy left to join the Outlaws with his other best friend; Jackson Rod or whatever along with a few of their other mutual friends and old flames of Rory's. If her memory served her right, and she was always right, there was only one person on the team that she hadn't met and it was Jackson.
Grabbing some gauze, Rory untied her chest piece and let it fall to her waist still wearing a black razor top underneath. The stab wound on her shoulder wasn't bad, but it did need to be doctored. Lucky for her, Oliver and Dinah taught her how to apply first aid.
Dressing the wound was not a painful as she thought it would be, it just required cleaning and a couple of homemade stitches. Once she finished, Rory slid the rest of her suit off and hung it up in her display case. Taking her glance to the left, she saw not only her Arrowette suit, but her White Arrow suit.
Every time she laid her eyes on this suit, Rory felt a pang in her chest longing for the girl she used to be. But she could never be that girl again. Turning away, she made her way to the stairs that led up to the mansion. The second she entered the main lobby, there was a yell across the mansion.
"Aurora James Queen! My study now!"
Something told Rory that Oliver found out about something she did and that was never good news.
Normally, Oliver and Rory had a great relationship, but this last year was hard on her. Aurora used to be the White Arrow; the symbol of hope and pure goodness in Star City. But everything was different now.
Rory was now the Grey Arrow and preferred to work alone. Oliver, Dinah and especially Roy hated that she pushed them all away. Roy had been her best friend for years now and she trusted him more than anyone, except for the fact that she refused to work with him now and it was for his own safety.
What could Oliver had found out this time? Truth be told Rory didn't hold many secrets from Oliver, just the ones she knew that he would not agree or approve of. Slowly creaking the door open, Rory saw both Oliver and Dinah waiting her. Now she knew that whatever this was about, it was bad.
Hey Oli, what's up?" she asked, her signature smile gracing her face.
"What's up? Why don't you ask the three comatose thugs you put in the hospital last night?" he frowned, crossing his arms.
Well, there could be worse he found out about. Rory moved and sat in the chair across from him. "They were rapists Oli, they're lucky that I didn't castrate and leave them for dead." she said sternly, her gaze not breaking from Oliver's.
Oliver's eyes didn't break their gaze either. It seemed that her was searching for any sense of remorse let alone any emotion but all he saw was nothing. That's what worried him and Dinah the most. Rory seemed to have no form of emotion any more other than rage and her usual sarcasm.
"Aurora, you can't keep going on like this. One day you're going to take it too far and you won't be able to come back from it." Dinah said, moving to kneel next her seat.
Rory avoided Dinah's gaze, knowing full well that she could convince her to do anything with just one look.
"In case you both forgot, I did cross that line. Looks like I am just fine." she snapped, not taking her gaze off Oliver.
"That's the thing, you aren't fine. We adopted you, raised you  and brought you into this world of crime fighting. Of course we can tell when you are not fine and you haven't been fine since out last encounter with Slade."
Hearing that name set Rory's heart on fire. Memories flooded her mind of all the dead bodies, including her parents. Absentmindedly, her hand traced the thin golden brand on her wrist. The last gift her father had given her mother for their last anniversary.
"This is why you can't stay here."
Rory's eyes narrowed. "What, so you're going to kick out your daughter out?"
"No, you are going to be staying with a friend from the league for a while."
Rory let out a groan. "Oh please tell me that it's not the golden boy, Superman." she threw her head back. "I can't do his boy scout attitude."
Dinah tried to hide her laugh, "No, Clark is not who you are staying with dear."
"Then where would I be staying?" Rory asked, looking at her adoptive mother.
"You are going to Gotham City to stay with Bruce Wayne. Dinah and I think that if anyone can help you overcome the darkness in your heart, it would be the Dark Knight himself." Oliver explained. "Even Roy agrees with us. He is just as worried about you."
"You're sending me to Gotham? Oli, did Merlyn hit you too hard last week? The crime rate in Gotham is worse. You really think that this will help?" she countered. "Besides, do you not remember the last time I saw Bruce? I kicked his ass and bleached his cape."
"Yes, I remember. It still baffles me that you managed to bleach his bat cape. But Bruce agrees, he thinks you might be able to learn something from him and his family. All of them have been trained since a young age too." Oliver said, his gaze not faltering.
Letting out a sigh, Rory nodded. "All right fine, when do I leave?"
Both Oliver and Dinah decided that it was best if only one of them flew Rory down to Gotham, Star City still needed a hero and they were not stupid enough to let her go on her own either. The good news was that the flight was only 8 hours long, even though Rory hated flying. The last time she flew, it was not in a plane.
The Justice League's resident golden boy decided that it was a good idea to fly her across Star City. Supes was in town to help Oliver on a case when Count Vertigo attacked the hospitals. Just remembering that day sent shivers down her spine, making Oliver take notice.
"Everything okay?" he asked.
Rory nodded, "Yeah, just glad that there is no one in Gotham can fly. Right?" she asked. Oliver laughed at her question.
"No one I know of can fly in Gotham." His statement set Rory at east as she finally relaxed into her seat.
58 notes · View notes
Tim’s Secret Weapon Pt. 4
I’ve been slightly obsessed with @ozmav​ ‘s Damian Wayne/Marinette Dupain-Cheng pairing as of late, and just saw a post that has inspired me more than anything else has in months, so I felt the need to write it
Summary- Tim has always seen the numbers floating above people’s heads, been able to perceive their threat levels with a single glance. After being a hero for so long he thought he was desensitized to seeing high numbers above people’s heads until Damian brings a new friend home.
Part 1
Part 3
Part 4 (HERE)
Part 5
_______________________________________________________________________
“Yup!” Jason popped the ‘p’ before holding up the book Tim had given him, “Who’s ready for storytime?” 
“What do you mean Tim is afraid I would throw him out?” Bruce pushed even as Jason led them towards one of the desks, “I want to help him with-”
“Yeah I’m gonna stop you there,” Jason cut him off, eyes hard as he set the book down with an uncharacteristic amount of care,“Tim was very offended by what we thought was going on with him and it just made him more sure that all of us were going to leave him behind as his shitty parents did. So let’s just cut to the chase and cool off before he seriously decides to run off before we can go talk to him because I’m pretty sure even after talking to him for twenty minutes, he’s still around seventy-five percent sure that’s going to be a better option than waiting around.” 
Jason had never seen the energy of a room shift so fast, the anger and bloodlust that had been suffocating since Dick uncovered the file on Marinette vanished into a deep rippling uncertainty. If there was one unspoken rule of the household, it was that no previous trauma will knowingly be replicated. It’s why Jason always makes a point of leaving his guns in the cave and never points them passed Bruce unless it’s life or death. Why no one touched the trapeze unless Dick was going up with them and they always used a net, no matter how good their aerial skills were. Why no one spoke to Jason in angry or stern Arabic. No one told Damian he was overreacting, especially when it was about illness or injuries. 
No one was allowed to make Tim think they were abandoning him.   
Dick looked stricken at the very idea, “Jay, why is Tim so scared?” 
“Short answer? Tim’s Meta.” 
The whole room froze, eyes flying wide, making Jason chuckle, “Yeah that was my response to.”
“How long?” Bruce asked, hand gripping the back of his chair so hard, Jason wondered if he was going to break it. 
“From what he said, he was born with his power, it’s always on and pretty impossible for him to block out.”
Damian’s face scrunched, “And father always made it clear that he doesn’t like Metas in Gotham.”  
“Fuck,” Dick swore, turning to punch the cave wall, “How the actual shit did we miss this? We’re fucking detectives goddamn it!” 
Seeing Dick lose it like that made Jason pause. It was rare to see the carefree brother truly get mad about anything, let alone for him to cuss up a storm, he always did prefer those filler cusses that make the rest of them groan. 
But then again Damian looked pained and Bruce was sinking into the Bat-computer chair looking lost as he ran a hand through his hair.
“I never meant it like this,” Bruce whispered, “I just didn’t want anyone else coming to Gotham expecting to be able to fix it overnight. Did I really come off anti-meta?” 
“I…” Jason winced, stopping to think, “I never thought so, but I can see how Tim thought you might be. We all need to talk to him, but I promised I’d explain some of this shit like Tim did to me, and look through his book so that we don’t all bombard him with questions.” 
The four shared a look before they all surrounded the table as Jason began. He told them of the numbers, the skill Tim had that he never shared. After they opened the book they found that it was more complex than just that. 
The entries started off very rudimentary, clearly written by a small child, the dates claiming that Tim began this journal when he was merely six years old. They detailed the color, font, and number of the person he had met. A few of the higher ranks having little ideas next to them on the cause, but as the list grew and the handwriting even outed, there were itemized lists on the reason for each number above a 5. 
By the time they reached Bruce’s they were pretty dumbfounded as they read through Tim’s confusion and fear at the number that broke the code he’d knew through his whole life, his reason section was filled with sentences of ideas, instead of the short bullet points, trying to ration it out. 
The most confusing part of it was he ruled things out that he couldn’t have known, insider trading and corruption would have been a logical conclusion for him to draw of the Billionaire he knew nothing about but he ruled them out instantly, not even bothering to consider they might be part of the reason. 
Not to mention when he actually put it together. 
“His power works on broadcasts as well?” Bruce mused, “I know I never saw he was never on the streets when I was out during this time period,” 
“Adding it to the list of questions,” Dick said as he typed it out into the sheet he had made when they started asking too many questions only Tim could answer.  
“Never mind that,” Damian brushed off, “Look at the traits he listed, all listed at the same time from the looks of the ink but if the date is to be believed, this is from before Todd was debuted as Robin, how did he know you had a mastery in hacking, spoke multiple languages and stunt flight?” 
All of them froze at those words, hunching over it to look at the words. 
There was no logical way Tim could know any of those things. Most of Batman’s skill set could be guessed through out the rumors and gossip that flew since the caped crusader started his reign of the city, but those skill sets still weren’t widely known to the public. 
“I…” Bruce shook his head, “Add it to the list, we have a lot more of the book to get through to worry about this now. We should try and finish the book. 
But the issue popped up again and again as the pages went on, each hero he met he knew their skills down to the littlest detail, things he shouldn’t be able to know, especially before he became the third Robin. 
He knew Clark was Superman when he met the reporter first.
He knew Diane was made of clay before the woman had ever given away that little tidbit.
He knew that Barry was a wiz when it came to criminology before the speedster had ever given up his identity. 
He knew Arthur had low-level empathic abilities that went beyond sea life before Arthur was even considered a hero. 
They were only two-third of the way through the book, arguing over how The Commissioner could possibly know their identities, let alone why it would make his number rise so quickly when not even Bruce’s number had done so when he learned the other League member’s identities, when a stern voice cut through their thought. 
 “Gentlemen, There’s a bit of a situation that Master Tim and I discovered that could use your attention.” Alfred cut in, making them turn, stopping when they saw Tim practically sprint to the Bat computer, pointily looking at the wall to avoid looking at them, his shoulders so tight they shock.
“Tim?” Dick asked, concern dripping from his words as he started towards the younger man only to freeze as Tim visually flinched away from the word, curling inward as he frantically typed away on the keyboard. 
Before any of them tried to break the silence again the giant screen lit up to show a battle play out. A young girl dressed in a red and polka-dotted outfit flipping and twisting out of the way of the pages thrown like ninja stars at her, a yoyo used to propel her, eyes filled with laughter behind her mask. Her moves were agile and practiced, as another figure, a boy her same age dressed in skin-tight black leather entered the frame. 
“I figured out why Marinette is a 15,” He finally managed out, making the bats’, minus Jason, heads snap to him.
A 15? 
The brat couldn’t just have a normal girlfriend, could he?
No, he had to have someone that shattered Tim’s power completely.
 And he had no idea why, until now. 
They really couldn’t blame him for being obsessive. 
“I couldn’t find out why Mari was so powerful,” Tim rambled on, “But Alfred helped me realize that she’s a hero too. A hero with the power of the god of creation on her side, which makes sense for why she completely broke my, uh, my power. She’s been-” 
“Tim,” 
“-fighting a supervillain,” Tim just continued as if he hadn’t heard Bruce, his voice skipping up a few pitches, “ who also uses the power of a god to help him make others into villains to do his bidding. They’ve been locked in battle for years now. Years! We really should have noticed before now, but better late then never right? Heh, she has some allies though so it’s not like she was fighting on her own or anything, and-”  
“Drake,” Damian cut in, ducking past Dick to grab Tim by the shoulder to spin him, staring into his eyes with the type of harsh determination only the demon spawn seemed to be able to, ignoring the quacking fear in Tim’s own eyes, “I am the byproduct of the daughter of one of Father’s greatest enemies drugging him. I was raised will one goal in mind, to be the ultimate weapon to take down all that stood in the way of the League of Assassins, and yet Father, Grayson, Todd, Pennyworth and you gave me safety and taught me why my grandfather was wrong. Todd was murdered by a clown with psychopathic tendencies, was brought back by the magic that my grandfather has a monopoly on, went crazy with Lazarth sickness and thought the best course of action was to become a crimelord in the very city he vowed to protect, going as far as trying to shoot Father, the man he saw as an older brother and you, the boy he was convinced Father had only brought into the circle to die as he had, and yet once the sickness faded Father welcomed back in with open arms, shedding tears for the child he thought he had lost. Father may have made it clear that he’s not a fan of metas operating in the city, but you’re a moron if you believe for a second that means he’s going to disown you or take Red Robin away from you. You’re also lost all my respect if you think this means I or any of the others that dawn the bat moniker are going to feel any different about you for having these powers.” 
Tim’s mouth opened and closed several times after Damian’s speech had come to a close as the others waited for him to break the silence of the cave. All he could feel was his hands trembling as his eyes welled up. 
Damian was still looking at him before sighing, “You really are an idiot,” 
He wanted to retort, wanted to bite out a response as he blinked back the tears but he suddenly found Damian’s arms wrapped around his waist, a tight grounding embrace, the younger boy’s chin resting on his shoulder. 
Tim wasn’t sure he was breathing, his whole body shaking like it was trying to shatter into a million pieces. The brat, Damian, the one person he thought would gladly cast him aside given the slightest of reason to was… 
“You’re family, Tim,” Damian stern voice cut through his mental frenzy, “If I’ve learned one thing since moving to Gotham, it’s that you don’t give up on family, not for anything, and certainly not for something like this.”   
Tim felt something inside him break and the next thing he knew he was sobbing into Damian’s shoulder the pair on their knees in the middle of the cave, gripping Damian back like he thought if he let go the boy would vanish. Slowly as he felt his breathing calm down and his sobs fade he could feel more arms surrounding him. The entire bat family was surrounding him, silently holding him through his breakdown. 
He pulled back, scrubbing his eyes as his family slowly untangled from around him. 
“I’m sorry,” He whispered, voice scratchy from the tears, “I guess I should have known none of you would hate me but… I’ve been so scared that I’d lose you guys too. I didn’t want to risk it, I couldn’t risk it.” 
He flinched slightly when a large hand squeezed his shoulder looking up into Bruce’s eyes, softened by a love that could destroy the world if his child was hurt. A love that none of the Waynes needed to put words to because of looks like this. 
Glancing back to his brothers he saw the love in Bruce’s eyes reflected in theirs, all of them accepting him and loving him still. 
The weight Tim had carried for as long as he knew to grow lighter as a small smile worked its way onto his face. 
His eyes burning with the same intense love for his family back at them. 
For the first time in a long time, Tim knew without a doubt 
It would be okay. 
_______________________________________________________________________
Tim couldn’t stop the whimper from falling from his lips as Marinette’s class came pouring out of the doors of the school.
All of the Wayne boys had decided to surprise Marinette by showing up at her class when it let out, in addition to not wanting to wait to reveal they knew her secret. It wasn’t hard to get all of them to Paris merely days after Tim’s secret came to light, especially since Bruce was planning on checking up on the Paris branch of Wayne Enterprises the following week before everything happened. Expanding the trip last minute to include all of them had taken little effort, and all of their suits were tucked away in their hotel suites, waiting to be dawned once they got Marinette alone. 
Tim was ready to turn back now though and for a very good reason. 
 In the normal sea of threes and fours, normally Marinette stood out with her overwhelmingly soft pink 15, but now...
The tanned girl that had hoards of kids surrounding her had an obnoxious copper 9 floating above her, the font looking like a tiger had scratched it into the very fabric of space. 
A trio of students, a bulky boy, a small pink-haired girl, and a dark-skinned nerdy-looking boy, were messing around as pale numbers circled their heads, a pair of stark white 12s over the boys and an icy blue 13 over the girl. 
A pair of girls, one blonde and one of Asian descent, were bickering as they made their way down the steps,  a canary yellow daintily drawn 14 for the blonde and deep burgundy calligraphed 13 for the more stoic girl.   
And the blonde boy Marinette was happily conversing with, looking even more softspoken and sweet than the baker girl.
He had a venomous green 15 swirling over him in it’s rounded bubble-like font. 
His brothers glanced at him warily. 
“Everything okay Timmy?” Jason asked, eyes flitting over the crowed on instinct, looking for the threat that spooked him. 
“I’ll tell you later,” He groaned back, “... but keep an eye on the girl in the orange jacket, she feels slimy from all the way over here,” 
His brothers nodded, but even so, Tim felt a migraine coming on. 
For once Tim wished for an alien invasion so he didn’t have to deal with this bullshit.
_______________________________________________________________________
Taglist: @vixen-uchiha @iggy-of-fans @mewwitch @roseinbloom02 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @mochinek0 @royalchaoticfangirl @09shell-sea09 @mystery-5-5 @derpingrainbow @aloha-posts-stuff @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @maribat-archive @blue-peach14 @kae690 @zazzlejazzle @vincentvangoose @be-happy-every-day-please @xxmadamjinxx @celestiacq @peculiarlylostdreamer @dani-ari @melicmusicmagic @themcclan @nyctamaximoff @nataladriana9 @drama-queen-supreme @miraculousbelladonna @urbanpineapplefarmer @graduatedmelon @lexysama @hecate-hallow @ki117h3dr4g0n @vinerlover @interobanginyourmom @bluefiredemon @imanerddealwith @tinybrie @clumsy-owl-4178 @shizukiryuu @whogavemeaninternet @schrodingers25 @lunar-wolf-warrior @urbanpineapplefarmer @xxmadamjinxx @crazylittlemunchkin @littleredrobinhoodlum
756 notes · View notes
dented-nado · 4 years
Note
Loved your last prompt fill! Would you consider 15. “Are you cold?” Superbat :)
[[Sorry this took me so long!! This turned out a bit angsty, dealing with Bruce pushing himself and mental health issues, but its overall hurt and comfort
At times, it felt the cold was all he could feel. Some might think he was being over-dramatic, but sometimes, Bruce would fall into a quiet slump that only those who had known him for a long time really recognized. He wouldn’t really be angry… or sad… or happy… he’d be just… flat… to everything. Bruce himself hated getting like that because it made decisions a lot harder - he just didn’t have the energy to really care… and he didn’t really want to think about why it was happening either.
He, and others around him had just learned to wait it out. 
“He’s just in a mood, he’ll get over it.”
“Don’t take it personally, he’ll be back to ordering us around in no time.”
“That’s just how he is sometimes.”
Bruce tended to only realize those words actually hurt him when he finally was able to pull himself out of his slump, his fatigue with everything life had thrown at him, and by then it was too late to protest or say that it had hurt him.
Not that he’d ever say something like that anyway, even if he did recognize he felt hurt by it right away.
Because deep down, he was sure he didn’t really matter.
So, on Gotham nights like tonight, where he was shut down emotionally and mentally even to himself, the cold really was the only thing he could really know he was feeling. A biting chill that stung his face every time the wind blew. Even the batsuit didn’t stop his body pulling blood and warmth away from his fingers and toes to better protect itself from the elements. He flexed his hands as he went about his patrol, trying to plead with his body to go a little longer. If all he was going to feel was cold, he thought he’d rather not feel it at all. For nothing to truly bother him. To be able to make decisions and carry out his tasks not unlike a machine. Going in, getting the job done, and barely ever needing maintenance.
Instead, here he was, mind shut down but body brutally aware of the freezing breeze that felt like pelting him tonight.
Just a little longer.
Keep going.
If you stop, you lose.
He had drowned out the voice of Alfred who had practically begged him for several long minutes to come home, warm up, eat something and go to bed.
He had barely acknowledged Dick, who had tried to talk to him, but had gotten exasperated and done trying after Bruce failed to respond to him… not like Bruce really blamed him for heading out… he only wished he could make up his mind on whether to reach out or retreat away further. The latter - was the option he was beginning to think to be the option that would give most of his children a better chance at happiness.
There hadn’t been any big crimes, only a few muggings, but that didn’t stop him stubbornly continuing his search, convinced something was going to happen.
Something had to happen.
Maybe even if he came home bruised and battered… at least he’d feel something else… right?
After another hour of pushing on, biting cold, fingers getting stiffer with the cold, he landed on top of one of Gotham’s oldest buildings. He looked out over the city… as quiet as Gotham could be. He looked down at his grappling gun, his fingers were trembling… it was looking down at his shaking hands that made him finally realize the rest of him was shivering. His breath formed little clouds in front of his face as his breathing was starting to be more labored. He clenched his teeth and tightened his grip on the grappling gun, almost like he was trying to strangle it. 
His mind flip-flopped between wishing the whole world would disappear and wishing someone would find him and tell him it was okay. His vision narrowed into a tunnel. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears.
“why can’t I just feel or not feel?” He asked himself.
“Why can’t I be better?? Or just not care anymore?”
With a growl of frustration, he threw the grappling gun at the ground and keeled over, crouching and wrapping his arms and his capes around himself. He felt his eyes grow hot like they wanted to cry but he couldn’t he just couldn’t.
Thoughts swirled in his mind, biting at him just as intensely as the cold.
“Why am I here?”
“What am I doing??”
“Is it even worth it? Is there a point?”
“am I doing it wrong?”
“I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I can’t do it.”
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry….”
He wondered if he had done something purely wicked and evil as a child to deserve this. To deserve to loose mom and dad, to deserve his best friend descending into madness, to deserve to feel so out of control of himself that he’d flip between feeling too much and not being able to feel at all, deserve to feel like he has no choice but to cut himself off from everyone if he doesn’t want anyone he loves to get hurt ever again.
Maybe he was the constant… maybe if he didn’t exist… maybe…. maybe….
 “Are you cold?” 
Right on time… just like when he stepped in the way of a bullet or caught someone right before they hit the ground… he was there.
Normally Bruce would have scrambled to his feet and tried to claim he was just thinking about a case, but instead he just shivered, unable to help his teeth chattering and just barely turned his head in Superman’s direction.
Clark’s red boot clad feet touched the ground quietly, and he smoothly leaned down, hand on Batman’s back. His red cape spilling on the ground and bringing a bright color back into a dull world.
“You’re cold.” He said softly, without judgement as he worked slowly, moving his hand from Batman’s back to around his shoulders.
Bruce felt goosebumps form up and down his arms, Clark’s warm arm starting to battle the cold that had enveloped him. Of course, the man… child of the sun… was quite literally a walking heater.
Slowly Bruce closed his eyes, allowing himself to be moved so his face was pressed against his super friend’s chest as Clark pulled him into a quiet hug.
He sighed, letting Clark’s natural warmth envelop him. He released his arms that has been curled around his sides and wrapped his own arms around Clark, despite warming up he had started shivering even more. He decided it was better to feel warmer at that moment than pull away “because it was a hug”.
“I’m going to take you home B…”
Bruce nodded, now squeezing his eyes tightly shut as if somehow that would help him forget the world around him.
They were flying, Clark was holding him.
“I’m sorry” Bruce mumbled in a hoarse voice.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for B.” Clark hushed calmly.
—-
“You don’t have to stay around Clark.” Bruce tried to say as he sat, warming up beside the fire Alfred had lit, still feeling the deeper chill hadn’t gone away.
“I know. But I want to. Unless you want me to leave.”
Bruce stayed silent.
Clark smiled. “I didn’t think so.”
Bruce took a long sip of his honey lemon tea now that it was finally cool enough to not burn his tongue.
“So why were you punishing yourself out there?”
Bruce nearly spit his tea back out. “I wasn’t…!” He met Clark’s eyes, and shut his mouth. He had expected Clark to be sitting there rolling his eyes at his behavior, but instead all he saw was genuine worry.
“…I didn’t mean to be.”
Clark put a hand on his knee. “I know Bruce, I don’t think you ever mean to.”
Bruce bit his lip. 
Clark was his first friend he had let in in a while. Something about Clark screamed safety, and it wasn’t because he was Superman. It was written in the way he would gently stay by his side, how he would smile at him, how he would listen to every single word and take everyone into careful consideration. Whenever Bruce had struggled to be open in the way most friends are with each other… how he had remembered being with friends in past… Clark was incredibly patient, would gently urge him out of his comfort zone but never shame him for struggling.
He loved him. Not just in a “I want to kiss him and wake up beside him everyday way.”. He loved him in a “You make me believe that life can be better than this, you make me feel like I can heal and be loved as I am” kind of way. 
But at the same time, it scared him… because what if he was so awful that the warmth and light he loved in Clark so much would go out?
“It’s… just a mood I get in, I’ll get over it..” He grumbled, curling his legs up onto his seat with him.
Clark raised his eyebrows. “What kind of a mood?” He asked seemingly innocently.
Bruce swung his head back to him. Would Clark even know what he was talking about if he told him? 
“…Do you ever…. just not really feel anything?” Bruce suggested slowly.
Clark tilted his head to the side. “Like an empty kind of feeling?”
Bruce swallowed hard. “I… think that’s one way to put it.”
“Yeah… I’ve felt that way before. After what happened with Black Mercy… there were lots of times I felt like that. It was…”
“Frustrating?” Bruce suggested.
Clark nodded. “Yeah, frustrating.”
“Like you either want to be able to mourn or…” Bruce continued, leaning forward a little.
“Really not feel anything at all?”
Bruce nodded.
Clark smiled at him. “So… when you or others say you’re in a “mood” is that’s what’s happening.”
Bruce looked down at his lap and slowly nodded again.
Clark took a deep breath and moved a little closer to sit beside Bruce. 
“I think… you know how when you hurt yourself, you try to do things to distract yourself from the pain?” Clark suggested. “And if you’re in pain for a long period of time, eventually you just accept it’s there?”
“Yeah…” Bruce agreed.
“I think your mind does that too, when your hurt? I think you do feel, a lot, it’s just too much for you to handle all at once. It’s just trying to avoid thinking of what your feeling to protect yourself.” Clark said, arm now back around Bruce’s shoulders.
“…. I know your right. I just… wish I didn’t have to deal with it at all.” 
“I know… but I think you have to if you want to move on, in any way. I was in therapy for six months before I finally broke down about how it felt… to lose a whole lifetime you were convinced was real….”
Bruce looked at him a bit shocked. “You went to therapy?”
Clark nodded. “Oh yeah. I mean you remember back then, you had to stop me from doing something I would have regretted just because deep down I was so angry about the whole thing but refused to tackle it.”
“Does your therapist know your…”
“One of the few.” Clark said with a slight quirk of his lips. “Even Superman needs to talk about shit sometimes.”
Bruce couldn’t help a small smile. “Well when you swear, I know you’re serious about it.”
“You’re damn straight I am.” Clark chirped playfully nudging his body against Bruce’s.
“I guess… I should… I just never really thought… you know… I’m a billionaire, I’m batman… what do I have to complain about?” Bruce replied, only half joking.
“You’re allowed to feel things Bruce. Your worth it, I promise you.”
Bruce studied Clark’s face, chest feeling heavy.
“What makes you so sure?”
Clark brushed a hair out of Bruce’s face, startling the dark knight slightly, but he quickly realized Clark wasn’t even aware he was doing it as he looked Bruce over almost… affectionately.
“Because I know you.” Clark replied. 
“…You do.”
Finally, for the first time that night… Bruce felt warm.
182 notes · View notes
animemangasoul · 4 years
Text
You Have A Home With Me
Summery: Tim takes in a meta human kid and tries to keep him a secret from the rest of the batfamily until his team gets back. It doesn't go as well as he'd hoped. And with an entire criminal empire after the kid, it's all Tim can do to keep it all under wraps and away from the media's attention
Characters: Tim Drake, Batfamily, Young Justice
Chapter: 3/5
Silently he picks up the discarded items on the wet floor; mind churning as he tries to formulate his next plan. He couldn’t very well ignore his duties as CEO or his nightly activities to take care of this kid full time until their situation got settled, at the same time---
He is still mulling it all over when quiet footsteps from behind him makes him blink out of his haze. “All dressed up?” he asks, turning his head to look at the kid. Big blue eyes stare back at him from behind blonde curls and the kid looks so small in his too big superman shirt and the slightly too large gray pajama pants that Tim’s heart hurts again just looking at him. How could anyone hurt someone so vulnerable?
The kid doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring back at him; owlish eyes trying and failing to hide the sleepiness dragging them under. Tim smiles. “I know you’re tired. But I’ll be done in a few seconds and then we can get something to eat before you go off to bed.”
Pale blonde eyebrows narrow, and the kid purses his lips.  
“Not hungry?” Tim asks, knowing full well how impossible that was, but giving the kid a choice, at least for today might be for the best. The kid’s grip on the door-frame tightens and he shrugs. “Ok then,” Tim says, picking up Bart’s favorite shampoo bottle from behind the trashcan. “I’m sure I have some of Alfred’s leftover lasagna from yesterday and it’s honestly delicious so-”
From the corner of his eye he can see the kid slowly retreating, probably done with his social interaction for the moment, and Tim huffs. “Hey.” The kid pauses, halfway out the door. “What’s your name?”  
He tries to ask the question as casual as possible, not even looking at the kid as he picks up the last of the mess, slowly stands up. “I’m sorry I called you by that..... What’s your name? If you don’t mind me asking?”
A dash of footsteps and the kid is gone, Tim sighs. “Too much Drake. Too much.”
He takes a bit longer to finish up, but that’s normal, that’s fine. It’s not like he was..... Tim wouldn’t admit that he was deliberately stalling, he was so not anxious about some tiny brat he’d personally rescued from a corrupt organization.
Not like it was mildly insulting that the kid still did not trust him when Tim had done everything remotely possible to show him that he was neither scared of his abilities nor willing to abandon him on a whim. It’s not like he was tired and worried and anxious and..... Tim was fine. Tim was fine. He was always fine.‘I’ll just give him a couple of minutes to calm down,’ he thought, sitting down on the closed toilet seat with heave of his shoulders.‘Wouldn’t do to crowd him while he’s agitated.’  
Picking up the first aid kit lying innocently next to the bathtub, he gets to work tending to his now severely throbbing wrist. It said a lot about his life that he could ignore the pain until he found the time to deal with it. It said a lot about his family and the crushing work they dealt with every night. A sprained wrist? He snorted as he finished tying it up. Oh please.
Finally done, he scooped up the kit under one arm and took a deep breath before standing up. “That’s long enough,” he muttered, walking out of the bathroom and making his way to the living room where, sure enough, the kid was; exactly in the same spot he’d occupied when they’d first made their way into the apartment. “I’ll make dinner,” he said offhandedly to the kid; deliberately putting the first aid kit on the middle of the coffee table. “And then we’ll take care of your injuries. Deal?”
The kid shook his head vigorously and.... Tim blinked back in surprise. That was the first time the brat had actually answered him that quickly. “Ok,” he said slowly, taking a step back and folding his arms. “We don’t have to do it to night if you’re not feeling any pain. Are you feeling any pain?” The kid paused for a second before shaking his head again and Tim frowned. “You sure?” Another pause and then a nod. “Fine,” Tim said, turning and walking into the kitchen. “Tomorrow it is.”
-----------
Heating up dinner doesn’t take long and soon enough they are both sitting on opposite sides of the dinner table, two plates of lasagna in front of them. Tim is starving and digs in almost immediately, not even waiting for his steaming meal to cool down a bit, but just as he is about to take his third bite, he catches sight of the kid. The kid who has yet to even lift a hand to pick up his utensils and Tim frowns at him in confusion. “You don’t like lasagna?” The kid shrugs looking away and....
Sighing heavily, Tim puts down his own fork and folds his arms. Why was this kid so freaking difficult? Tim couldn’t read minds and the brat was a mystery wrapped in suspicion wrapped in paranoia and Tim knew, he knew it was only a matter of time before he messed this whole thing up horribly and shit truly hit the fan. “You not hungry?”
Nothing.
“Is it too little? I can get you more when you’re finished?”
Nothing.
Frustration now mounting Tim leans forward slightly trying to meet the kid’s gaze. “I’m sorry kiddo but I can’t read minds. You have to tell me what’s wrong or I won’t know how to help.” The blonde finally meets his eyes and.... Tim’s lips part in stunned silence at the watery fear flooding the kid’s eyes and trickling down his cheeks. What the---
Shaking his head furiously, the kid pushes the plate aside and clams a hand over his mouth all the while glaring up at Tim in what the vigilante can only call terror. What the hell was going on? What did he do? Why was the kid crying? Why was.....
And then it hits him.
It’s like the pages of the folder he’d been reading this whole week starts flipping open in his mind and he remembers. Page seven, paragraph four.  
Leaning back, Tim runs a shaking hand through his hair and tries his damnedest not to cry. “You’re scared I poisoned your food, aren’t you?” The kid flinches, bottom lips wobbling as he refuses to meet Tim’s eyes anymore. Tim suddenly doesn’t feel like eating either. “They messed with your food and.... You don’t know if you can trust me not to do the same.”
Silence.
Tim bites his lips and looks away. Fuck. What the hell was wrong with M.E.T?
Every new thing he learned about them he just--
Staring at his fingers, he tries to breath. It wouldn’t do for him to lose it in front of the kid. That wouldn’t help anybody. ‘Relax,’  he thinks. ‘Just calm down. If you show your anger now God knows how he’ll interpret it. Just breath and calm down.’  
Looking at the curled-up figure across from him, Tim tries to prioritize this moment. This instant. The right here and now. He’ll make them pay, but for now....
Leaning forward, he ignores the kid shrinking away and instead picks up the untouched plate in front of him before standing up, making sure the plate is still in eyesight of the blonde who is rapidly watching him from behind shaking fingers.  
Reaching up, Tim pulls down a bigger plate from the top shelf and puts it at the center of the table before dumping the lasagna in it. The kid doesn’t make a sound but his confusion is quite evident from the widening of his eyes, and Tim smiles reassuringly at him before picking up his own plate and also dumping it in the same plate, and then, using a clean fork, he mixes it all up thoroughly.  
Satisfied, he plops down on his chair and picks his fork back up. “Now there is no way for me to poison you,” he says. “Since we’re eating the same thing, right?”
He doesn’t say anything else, just digs in; at a much slower pace as he silently prays that his solution turned out to be an actual solution and that the poor kid wouldn’t starve and----
A shaking fork finds its way into the plate and Tim doesn’t look at the kid, eating instead in quiet silence but his heart lifts seeing the other side of the plate slowly emptying and well, Tim would be lying if he said his mind didn’t feel utter relief knowing that the kid wouldn’t go to sleep hungry.
“Matt.”
“Huh?”
The soft unfamiliar words startle Tim out of his thoughts, and it takes him a second to realize that the kid is actually speaking to him and.... His eyes widen, head snapping up to meet the too pale face of the blonde. “What did you say? Did you say something?”
The kid shrinks back, cheeks flushed red from embarrassment as well as the tomato sauce staining the whole lower half of his face; making him look even more painfully young. “My name,” the kid says; voice shaking uncontrollably. “is Matt.”
There is traces of a slight accent in his words and he goes right back to shoving forkful of lasagna in his mouth the minute the words are out but....
Damn it, Tim quickly looks down to stop the brat from seeing the wetness in his eyes. “It’s nice to meet you Matt. I’m Tim.”
“Nice to meet you... Mr.Tim.”
And yeah.... Tim would probably fight the whole world for this kid.  
----------
When dinner is over, Tim instructs the ki--- Matt to wash his face before he goes to bed. And as he cleans up the table, he keeps an eye on the child standing on a chair, carefully washing off the sauce from his face.  
“You can sleep in the guestroom down the hall,” he finally says when the kid has jumped down from the chair, eyes fixed on his feet and tiny hands gripping the hem of the blue shirt. “Here,” he says, reaching into his pocket and extending the keys to the wide-eyed kid. “You can lock your door if you want. If you feel safer that way I mean.”
Matt doesn’t take a step closer, just continues to stare at the keys with a sort of longing in his eyes that makes Tim smile sadly.  
Putting the keys on the table he steps back and as soon as he does, the kid springs forward and snatches it up, looking up at him as if he expects some kind of reaction, but all Tim does is nod at him once before he takes the plates over to the sink; careful to leave enough room for Matt to sprint past him if he wants, which the kid does almost immediately.
Well, Tim thinks. 'I guess he fulfilled his sharing quota of the day.’  
------  
The minute he’s done cleaning up after them, Tim situates himself on the sofa; mug of coffee in hand and several folders spread out in front of him as gets to work. He still hadn’t finished the presentation for tomorrow’s unveiling project and he needed to get a head start on that drug case Dick was working on and not to mention the weapon smuggling ring him and Jason were trying to uncover and---
Sighing, he rubs a tired hand across his brow and pulls up the file on his computer before he starts typing. It would be a long night indeed.
He’s been working for almost three hours; four trips to the kitchen for coffee refills and one trip for a change of clothes when he hears tiny shuffling from behind him. Looking up he blinks tiredly at the tiny child standing across from him; arms curled around his middle and tired eyes framed by a pale face, widening as if he hadn’t expected to actually find Tim.
It takes the young CEO a full minute to wrap his head around this strange kid being in his apartment; for a moment wondering if Damian had dyed his hair or something before his mouth rounds off into a silent o and he fully sits up to stare back at the kid. “Matt? What are you doing up?”
The kid doesn’t say anything, thin lips curling downward in distress as he shuffles forward before stopping abruptly and taking a step back.  
Tim frowns. “Couldn’t sleep?”
A nod.
“Nightmare?”
Another nod.
“Anything I can do?”
A shake of the head, no.
“Ok. Do you want me to make you something?”
Another shake of the head.
Tim’s brows crease in worry. “Do you not feel safe in your room?”
A nod.
“Oh.”
Well, that was disheartening. What exactly was Tim supposed to do about that? If even a locked door Matt could control couldn’t make the kid feel safe then how---
A tiny body darts passed him and before Tim even has a chance to blink, the kid flings himself up on the other side of the sofa, curling into a ball and leaning his head against the armrest, closing his eyes.  
Tim stares, stunned. Was the kid going to....
“You want to sleep here?”
A nod.
“Do you want me to go?” Tim reaches out to pick up his paperwork but---
A shake of the head and..... Oh, wow. The vigilante can’t help the ghost of a smile that pulls at his lips. “Ok. That’s ok. Goodnight Matt.”
“Goodnight Mr. Tim.”
End
This kid is legit making me sad while writing this. Like why do I do this to him? I’m horrible. Tim and his angsty/hurt son. Things can only get worst before they get better.
@miss-choco-chips @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen anyone else who want me to tag them please let me know and thanks for reading everyone :)
69 notes · View notes
dumbkiri · 4 years
Text
My Universe
Part Two
Why do we fall?
Parts: [ 1, 2 ]
Summary: Jason returns home after two years and suddenly wants [Name] out of Wayne Manor for reasons he only knows. He finds out that [Name] is the key to a destructive future and needs to find out more about the legend he heard from Inklopiat, Aurora’s home world. If he fails to do so, [Name] may have to cease to exist. 
Pairing: Damian Wayne x HoH!Female!Reader
Word Count: 2.8k sorry not that long
Genre: Slight Angst? Fluff? 
WARNINGS: None...I think? I’m not sure
Tumblr media
     Again, Damian’s heart had skipped a beat. He felt it stop for a second then start up again. Why did his chest hurt when he saw the fresh tears fall down her rosy cheeks? Was it because he knew that the fighting had upset her and he still continued to banter with her father? He shouldn’t make her feel like this. He never wanted to be the reason she was crying. 
     “Please, tell me that you guys also witnessed what I witnessed,” Dick pleaded looking at [Name] with wide eyes. His expression made it seem like he saw something phenomenal. And if he was being completely honest, it was extraordinary.  
     On the other hand, Damian never removed his green eyes from bright [e.color] ones. She was only staring at him and he was only staring at her. He knew she wanted to speak to him, he felt it inside. Her lips parted then closed shortly after. Her tears had dried up and there was a slim red ring around the outside of her irises. 
     Her [h.color] hair was long, really long and rested above her waist. Her skin glowed a radiant [s.color] making her eyes pop out even more. She looked at him with pleading eyes. Her lips no longer quivering because she knew he got the message she was trying to convey. “I’ll stop,” Damian said softly. He gave one last look at Jason and lowered his fist. 
     It was like a switch in him flipped. He was no longer angry. He wasn’t upset at Jason for suddenly barging in without notice. All he felt was a sense of calmness and it was because of [Name]. “I’ll stop fighting, for you,” He whispered the last part and gently placed his hand on top of her head. Damian knew she couldn’t her the sincerity in his voice or his genuine words, but he still spoke. He felt that she understood him.
     “What is going on here?” Alfred walked into the kitchen with haste and his feet came to a complete stop. His worn out blue eyes widening for a fraction. “Master Todd, you’re finally back,” Alfred said it with a tone of surprise. 
     Jason nodded his head, “Hey, Alfred.” 
     “Is that all you have to say?” Alfred said with quickness and an offended look on his face. He hasn’t seen this rogue boy in two years and he greets as if two years haven’t passed. “You left your daughter here at Wayne Manor for two years and you greet me like I haven’t done you a favor. As if your family hasn’t done a favor for you.”
     Damian and Dick stayed silent. Alfred has never been so forward and harsh before. Forward and sarcastic, yes. But this was a different phase. A mood that didn’t show often during this time. It was probably because Alfred was so caught up with taking care of [Name] that most of the time this old man was filled with joy. 
     It dawned on Jason on how much pressure he put on his family. He left for two years without a word to any of them. Then his eyes loomed over to Dick. He did keep in touch with Dick and he wondered why it was only him. "I'm sorry that I left her behind. With Aurora gone, I felt lost. How could I, me," Jason pointed at himself with disgust, "raise a baby all on my own?" 
     "You are never alone, Master Todd," Alfred's glare turned into a caring look. Then he brought his gaze to Damian and- "Oh my, don't tell me that this young girl is [Name]." Alfred gestured to the ‘young girl’ hiding behind Damian’s back.
     Stepping up, Dick nervously chuckled and walked over to the little girl. He placed his hands on her shoulders startling her. He gave her a warm smile and then looked up from her [e.color] eyes. “This is definitely the [Name] that was two years old five minutes ago,” Dick confirmed Alfred’s suspicions. 
     “I swear, there is always something that happens with you boys together,” Alfred shook his head with a deflated sigh. 
……
     “Her vitals are normal for a five year old kid,” Tim concluded pouring more coffee into his red mug. Then his fingers skimmed the keyboard typing along it. His eyes focused on the screen and analyzing the readings presented to him. “But her blood is quite special. From what Bruce has in his database, her blood is much like Superman’s.” 
     “So she’s an alien?” Dick asked. 
     Jason scoffed and placed his rough hands on his hips, “Half alien, Dick.” He pressed his lips in a thin line. His eyes scanned the room and he decided to come clean. “Aurora is from a planet called Inklopiat. It’s not too far from Earth, but it takes about six months to travel there. Any questions so far?”
     The room was silent before Dick broke the ice. “You left telling me that you were visiting Aurora’s parents. Not to a different planet.”
     “Wait,” Tim cut in, “he told you where he was going and you didn’t bother to tell us?” 
     “Hey, it was a tough time for him and if I knew he was traveling to outer space, I would have totally informed you guys,” Dick defended himself. “Kory knows more about space than I do, I could have at least let her travel with you.” Dick looked over at Jason. 
     “I asked her earlier, but Inklopiatians and Tamaraneans aren’t friendlies. I learned that the hard way, you were there Dick. When Aurora and Kory first met.” Jason’s words jogged Dick’s memory.
     Dick chuckled, “Oh, I forgot about that incident.” 
     Damian stepped in, “Back to the priorities, we need to find out why [Name] aged three years within seconds.” His green eyes stayed on Jason. He had to learn from the Inklopiatians for a year. Which means Jason got some information. “Did the Inklopiatians tell you anything about what could happen to [Name]?”
     Jason nodded his head, “They strongly believe in soulmates. There’s a legend about a man named Asht’n who was a fierce warrior. He only knew how to kill, it made everyone across the galaxy fear him. He went on rampages and murdered anyone who got in his way. The story is so old no one knew why he killed. Then one day it all stopped because he met a fair maiden. Her name was unknown and so were her orgins. All they know is that Asht’n fell in love with her and finally put his sword down just for her. Asht’n tried to make contact with the fair maiden, but she always ignored him. Little did he know was that she was deaf.”
     Jason paused and watched [Name] play with her stuffed lion with Alfred. 
     “When he found that out, Asht’n used his actions to show her how much he loved her. Of course, the fair maiden was also infatuated with the mysterious man. She accepted his gifts of love and when he confessed to her, the fair maiden cried. She cried because she could finally hear his voice for the first time. They lived happily together and raised a family. Some hundred years passed and Inklopiat was born. Keep in mind, all the children are born deaf until their soulmate realizes their love for them.”
     “I was waiting for some other guy to pop in and take the maiden away from Asht’n. So the question is, their story ends happily?” Tim questioned as he was quite taken by the legend of Inklopiat. 
     “Yes, their story ends happily, Timbo. Fun fact, for you, Inklopiatians also enhance their age to match their soulmates. [Name] obviously knows who her soulmate is and is trying her best to catch up with them.” Jason carefully glanced over at Damian. 
……
     ‘My granddaughter is very special, Jason,” Queen Nadia’n smiled as she placed green flowers on the kitchen table. She sprayed them with water and placed the sprayer on the table. A maid came by and picked it up then scurried away.  “Aurora’n and I always knew that [Name] would be special.”
     Jason shook his head and took a sip of the drink that a maid offered him, “Why do you say that?” He set down on a ledge looking out to the stars Inklopiat had to offer. The twinkling reminding him of his girlfriend. His heart still ached for her touch and her voice. 
     Queen Nadia’n walked out to the porch and stood next to her daughter’s soulmate, “Because the Elders said so. They told us that when you and Jayd’n were out catching the Saloms out by the river.” 
     Jason chuckled, “I hated those Saloms, they were sneaky bastards.” 
     “Language, Jays’n,” Queen Nadia’n gently scolded then she took the cup from his hand. Her eyes changed colors repeating a pattern from brown to blue to green to hazel. “The Elders blessed you and Aurora’n with a special child. A child that could end wars and stop the biggest foes even the Justice League has faced.” She put the cup down on the ledge. 
     “You’re telling me that [Name] has the power to take down anyone she wants? Even Superman?” Jason wasn’t believing a word she said. “I don’t get it, [Name] is only half Inklopiatian and the other half is human. I have no power to my name.”
     Queen Nadia’n shook her head, “Jays’n, let me show you something the Elders want you to see. A vision that shows [Name]’s true powers.”
……
     Jason never felt so scared in his life before. Laying at his feet was Batman covered in wounds and blood. Next to him was Barbara and Timothy all in the same disturbing fashion Batman was in. Their costumes had various holes in them and Batman’s mask was torn off. He knelt down and took Bruce’s face into his hands. “Bruce, wake up,’ Jason pleaded and looked around his surroundings. Everything was destroyed. Gotham was no longer standing. 
     “Father, is that you?” Jason heard a trembling voice coming from behind him. Slowly, Jason placed Bruce’s head down and he stood up. He turned his body to the voice and saw [Name] all grown up. Her hair was down and blowing along with the wind. Her face covered in dirt, but her eyes remained unchanged. They had not stopped sparkling. 
     “[Name], what happened here?” Jason asked cautiously stepping over the bodies that littered at his feet. He noticed Wonder Woman with her lasso held weakly with bloody and broken fingers. He saw Superman groaning with rubble above his chest, his breathing shallow. Aquaman was surrounded by a ring of fire and he was also passed out. “Please, tell me you didn’t do this.” Jason whispered. 
     [Name] took a shaky breath in, “I had no choice, they were going to kill me.” She clenched her fists tightly and a tear streamed down her face. She was holding back. “Father, they thought I killed him.” She pointed down the hill and Jason stopped walking. Surrounded by a multitude of flowers was the one and only, Damian Wayne. 
     The young Wayne had blood leaking from his mouth and a lone stream went down his chin. His back resting against the mountain of rubble. His eyes closed shut with dark bags underneath. His hands clutching onto a dagger and the other held a rose. “They thought I killed my soulmate, but I was only trying to protect him.”
     Jason ran over to Damian, not believing what he saw. Damian was strong, stronger than anyone. Jason put two fingers against Damian’s neck and found no pulse. Damian was indeed dead. He looked behind him and at the fallen Justice League. They were all either dead or on the verge of dying. “[Name],” Jason called out to his daughter from below the hill, “who were you protecting him from?” 
     [Name] sniffled and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. Her entire body was trembling and Jason didn’t know if it was from fear or...the adrenaline pumping throughout her body. Her clothes, the only damage done to it was that there was blood and dirt on it. She seemed to be unharmed, but he knew that her heart was breaking inside. It was like he was watching himself when he saw Aurora flatline. 
     “Hey, Princess,” Jason called out to her gently. He carefully climbed up the mountain of rubble being wary not to disturb Damian’s resting place. His hands gripped the top of the hill and he pushed himself upward. Jason would have lost his footing if [Name] didn’t grip his forearm to keep his balance. She looked at him with red eyes due to her crying. “I know you meant no harm to them. Although I need you to tell me who killed Damian, it’s important.” Jason clarified with importance. 
     At the mention of his name, [Name] cried more. “We were investigating the League. Damian believed that his grandfather came back to life and I told him that it wasn’t wise to go without Bruce. He didn’t listen to me.” 
     “The League? You mean to say Ra’s al Ghul is alive?” Jason asked dumbstruck by her words. 
     “They sent us a calling card,” [Name] pointed down the hill where Damian rested. She didn’t dare lay her eyes upon him though. She was ashamed that with her limitless power, she couldn’t save her soulmate. “The dagger that he holds, it’s from Talia. Damian said so because of the carving.” 
     Jason’s vision was starting to get blurry. [Name] noticed this and she brought her father in for a tight hug. “You have to promise me something, Father.”
     Jason wrapped his arms around his daughter, “What is it, Princess?”
     She pulled away just enough to look into his gunmetal eyes. He wiped her tears away and held her chin up high. She smiled at him, “Promise me that whatever happens, you keep Damian away from me. This is what the future holds if we are together, Father.”
     “But you two are meant for each other. Soulmates are-”
     “There’s more to the legend of Asht’n and the Maiden. In that story lies the truth. Father, if you don’t find the truth before Damian confesses to me on my 17th birthday then you have to keep him away from me. If not, the Justice League will come after me and so will Ra’s al Ghul.” [Name] explained more to him. She would have told him more, but her grandmother was pulling him out of the vision. “Promise me?” 
     “H-how do I keep you two apart? You guys are practically inseparable, Damian won’t let go of you.” Jason gripped her shoulders. He felt like vomiting right now. Something was pulling at his chest. 
     [Name] outstretched her hand and the dagger from Damian’s hand levitated to her empty one. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of the dagger and her eyes glared at the weapon. “I’m not sure,” She brought her bright [e.color] eyes to him, “but when the time comes I’m sure you’ll know what to do. You’re a smart guy.” Adult [Name] finished with a smile. 
……
     Finally, Jason woke up from his episode and took a deep breath as he was trying to make sense of his surroundings. Apparently, he was on the floor of the bat cave because standing above him was his brothers. Damian had his arms crossed over his chest and most likely said something along a smart remark prior to him waking up. Meanwhile Tim and Dick were genuinely confused as to why Jason had suddenly passed out. 
     Before he could tell them what happened, [Name] had came into his view with her beautiful eyes. He sat up and blinked once at her appearance. Promise me. Future [Name]’s voice echoed in his head and Jason subconsciously nodded his head which in turn made little [Name] smile. She jumped into his lap and wrapped her tiny arms around his neck. Jason was astounded that she hugged him first. Did she know who he was? 
     That doesn’t matter right now, Jason mentally scolded himself. He had to make a promise to her and he was going to find out the truth about the legend in Inklopiat or else he would have to deal with [Name] himself. Jason hugged his little girl back with the same amount of love she gave him and pressed a kiss at the top of her head, “I promise, Princess. I’ll find out the truth.” 
......
Tags: @zalladane​ @buchanangaby​ @poisoned-pineapple​ @i-dont-even-know-fck​ @diabeticsugarush​
256 notes · View notes
xmemeanonx · 4 years
Text
I asked for this from stripedeye, but I wanna see your take on the concept: Mind doing headcanons for yandere!platonic!Batman, yandere!platonic!Superman, and yandere!platonic!Wonder Woman with a Reader who's the newest member of the Batfamily/Superfamily/Wonderfamily.
== went a bit overboard ,,, whoops anyway enjoy!==
It had been . . . nice
To say the least
I mean who wouldn't want to work with the Batman
And you got to meet all of these great people and even greater hero`s
But just recently Bruce has just been. . . quiet
Although it may sound normal to others for him to be quiet, not to you
No, he had always enjoyed talking to you about anything and everything
Especially about you
“where are you going?”, “who was that?”, “what about you (y/n), what's your opinion?”
He was always so concerned about you, what you're doing, even who you're talking too
It was nice of him to care so much
But sometimes it got annoying
It was like he didn't trust you, didn't see you as your own person, didn't see you as an adult
It was like he saw you as a child
He babies you sometimes honestly
You would snap at him sometimes when it got too much
Then he`d get quiet, scarily quiet
Like right now
But you didn't know what you said, what you did
You needed to clear this up before it turned into something bad, really really bad
Walking through the halls of the huge manor normally made you feel lost, but as of right now it made you feel nothing but dread. With the growing pit in your stomach you only had one thing on your mind, “find him, ask him what's the problem, then try to fix it.” It sounds so much easier said than done, you could just tell.
Maybe you could also try and talk to him about how he has been treating you. Yeah, talk about it, like adults. He would understand, right? Of course he would, he's your friend.
After what felt like hours of walking those twisting wood walls covered in expensive oil paintings, you made it to the main entrance. The pit in your stomach had grown to gaping hole by now. Why were you so nervous? ‘Maybe I should just go back home and ignore it or save it for another time.’ You paused, brows furrowed. ‘No. I need to do something about this.’ You nod to yourself, ‘he needs to learn that I can stand up for myself.’ You start to walk to his “work room,” thats where he normally is when he's not saving the city hopefully.
It was a quiet night. That's pretty unusual normally, you two are always doing something together. If not physically doing something together then you're at least in the same room. You try to have some alone time just doing something quietly, but he'll try and join in most of the time. That's one of the things you'd snap at him for. Although that only when you come over to the manor, which seems to be more and more every day.
‘One day I might start living here,’ you think jokingly.
You're only a couple meters away from the door when you notice the light on inside, ‘okay good, this will be the perfect time to-, wait.’ You stop, there's. . . . there's voices behind that damn door. More than one, maybe two, three? Yeah, three, damnitt. You turn to start to walk when you hear one of the voices raised. A male. . . Bruce. You stop, even though you know shouldn't, you stop and listen.
Three people, one of which is Bruce. You continue to listen. It sounds serious, way to serious for you to be listening. Yet you still listen. . . . another male and . . . . . a female.
You try and think of a man and woman Bruce trusts enough to let in his damn house. ‘Gordan? No way. Barbra? Too young.’ You close your eyes and exhale, it's a man and a woman, who are on the older side. ‘They sound powerful, like they're here with a reason, an important reason, way to important for you,’ you think. Cursing to yourself silently, you start walking away. . . . and then you recognize it. They said something that was so familiar to you, (y/n). Then it clicks, you know who they are. Who wouldn't they're. . . they're. . .
Superman and Wonder Woman.
You only met them once before
Alien invasion couple months back, you already knew Bats then
You wanted to help, desperate to even.
Buuut you quickly realised you bit of more than you could possibly chew
Long story short, you almost got your dumbass killed after already getting your ass kicked by aliens
Then the duo, Superman and Wonder Woman saved the day
It was embarrassing to you, for your two hero role-models to see you get your ass royally kicked, but oh no not to them
Because when they saw you. . . hooo boy
Something just clicked in their head, like a parental switch just flipped on or something
They wanted to care for you
Protect you
Be your mentor (parent)
It was like they both knew what the other was thinking when they met eyes
And it also seemed to be carried off to Bats head as well
Then I guess there was an unspoken mutual agreement that they would deal with it later
But, you didn't notice this at all
How could you only thing you could think of was keeping your eyes open as you quickly lost blood
But. . . . you could help but help but notice that, this may sound ridiculous but you were pretty sure you saw them????? Smile???? At you?????
But when you woke up in the batcave they seemed so concerned
asking question after question
“How do you feel?”, “are you in pain?”, “do you remember what happened?”
So I mean it doesn't seem too far off????
And, if I'm remembering correctly, Bruce was just standing in the corner
. . . .
. . . . .
. . . . . . . . is
I-is that why he has been so quiet
. . . . was he . . .
Was he jealous??
no. no way
He looked like was just thinking
Thinking.
Thinking about what?
You gasp. ‘I get it now,’ You think getting way too excited. You spin around walking quickly to the door, yet stop dead in your tracks after realizing it had gotten quiet. Too quiet. )The lights still on,’ you note, ‘that means they're still in there.’ Everything freezes after that, it's like time just stopped. That pit in your stomach is back, and its growing fast. Its silent.
The only noise you can hear is your heart beating and the ringing in your ears. ‘Why am I so nervous? Why can't I just leave? What am I even doing?’ You're not supposed to be here. You should just go home, wait for another time to talk to him. You know it, you have a feeling, then why the hell aren't you. Its silent.
Its silent . . . . . until you hear it.
The sound of chairs being pushed out, then pushed back in. and then. . . footsteps. More than one, three, walking in your direction. Shit. You backup still facing the door. Shit shit. . . .
When the door creaks open, and the light blinds you, its at that moment when the pit in your stomach grows so big, you feel numb. A deer in the headlights, that's what you felt like. ‘Shit shit shit! Run, do something! Don't just stand there,’ you think to yourself. But you do nothing as your eyes adjust to the light, making it easier to see three the silhouettes faces.
You were right about their identities. Wonder Woman, Bruce and Superman. Shit shit shit shit!
Although, its weird, because they don't look angry, no, they're smiling. And for some reason that seemed so much worse. It's a warm smile, a happy smile. Like they were expecting you. Excited even.
And for once in your life you felt disturbed by a simple smile. For once in your life you wish you just walked away. For once in your life you felt afraid of your own friend.
The pit in your stomach grew, it made you feel sick.
250 notes · View notes
searchingwardrobes · 5 years
Text
If Found Please Call
Tumblr media
This fic idea wouldn’t leave me alone, so I stayed up until one am writing it. Hopefully it’s not a hot mess. Based on my own experiences as a not-so soccer mom.
Summary: Emma Swan wasn’t trying to give Henry’s soccer coach Killian Jones her phone number. She was just sick and tired of her kid losing his water bottles.
Rating; G
Words: 3,000 +
Can also be read on Ao3
Tagging @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @kday426 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @bethacaciakay @teamhook @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @ohmakemeahercules @distant-rose @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines
Emma Swan doesn’t ask for a three and a half bath house or high-end SUV. She doesn’t need to take her son for a week at Disney World at the Grand Floridian. But she would like for once to be able to just say yes to the little things without doing mathematical gymnastics in her head. Henry’s currently begging her for a water bottle to take to soccer, and damn it, this shouldn’t be such a big deal.
But she’s a single mom and pinching pennies just seems to be part of the deal. She doesn’t even have the added bonus of a child support check. Scratch that, having Neal in their lives wouldn’t be worth the pennies he’d most likely throw their way.
You’d think a water bottle wouldn’t be a major purchase. But first of all, this is no ordinary water bottle. This is a metal Thermos with a flip top straw that promises to keep beverages cool for twelve hours. And since Emma bought one for herself to take on stake outs, she can attest to the legitimacy of that claim. With ice still rattling around inside.
But, they aren’t cheap, at least in Emma’s opinion. She spent twenty-five bucks on hers. Henry wants a slightly smaller one, which is twenty, but that’s still a lot for a water bottle. Especially considering how many water bottles she’s already bought for the kid that he’s promptly lost. When she points this out to him, he naturally begins his debate skills which are surprisingly well-honed for a twelve-year-old.
“But this one is special, so I won’t forget it.”
She raises both eyebrows. “Special how?” Aside from keeping drinks ice cold for twelve hours.
“It’s an Avengers one.”
She crosses her arms and purses her lips at that. They’ve had this debate so many times. Her son is crazy about all things Marvel, while Emma is strictly a DC girl. She maintains that Superman and Supergirl alone could have defeated Thanos. One holds him down, the other yanks off the gauntlet, they use their heat vision to destroy the thing, and bing-bang-boom, the Justice League is home by dinner. Mary Margaret maintains it has more to do with her taste in tall and dark Tom Welling or Henry Cavill as opposed to the blonde and muscled Chrises of the world. Not that Henry’s picked up on that particular aspect of her Superman obsession.
“You can check that I have it after practice, I swear,” Henry quickly changes tactics to avoid another Avengers vs. Justice League argument.
She rolls her eyes, and Henry’s mouth is open for his next argument before she can speak. Being a single mom and having the job she does, she’s enlisted the help of every one of her closest friends to make sure Henry gets where he’s supposed to be and is supervised. Emma herself can barely make sure Henry’s got his cleats and shin guards, much less keep up with a water bottle. She certainly can’t expect David or Mary Margaret or Ruby to remember. Aside from that, she’s pretty sure Henry has left past water bottles all over Storybrooke park, not just on the soccer fields. He has a bad habit of running off to do the myriad of things boys do while waiting to be picked up. Last week, David found him and his friends playing in the creek by the parking lot. She’s pretty sure water bottle number 12 is floating its way to the Atlantic by now.
“But the environment, Mom! Remember those YouTube videos of all the plastic water bottles?”
Well, shit. Now he’s gone and pulled the “we need to save the environment” card. And yes, she was horrified at the mountains of disposable water bottles in the landfills and the beaches covered in hundreds that had washed ashore. Hell, it’s why she bought Henry the other dozen water bottles that he’s lost. And she takes waste seriously, really she does, but she’s trying to raise a kid here. If she carries the weight of the world too, she’ll end up mumbling in a corner somewhere. So when Henry kept losing the reusable bottles she kept buying, she had given up and starting buying cases of water at the grocery store to keep in the Bug. That way, her kid stayed hydrated without constant nagging.
“Henry,” she groaned, rubbing at the tension headache mounting behind her right eye, “I want to be green and all that, but you’ve lost every single reusable bottle I’ve gotten you. And none of those cost as much as this one.”
“We’ll put my name on it!”
“Your name was on the last one. Fat lot of good it did when you dropped it in the creek.” So much for saving the environment.
Henry rolled his eyes and it was way too familiar for her comfort. “Coach got onto us for that, remember? No more playing in the creek.”
Henry’s coach, Killian Jones, was the envy of every other soccer team in the rec league. He was British, and apparently, that automatically meant he knew more about soccer than anyone else in Storybrooke. Not that Emma would know. She was the farthest thing from a soccer mom. All she knew was the ball went into the net, and if the goalie didn’t stop it, they scored. No, that wasn’t right. Henry told her it was a keeper, not a goalie. God, she was awful at this sports mom thing.
Other parents cheered specific instructions to their kids from the sidelines, but Emma didn’t know enough to do that. She just clapped and yelled for the kids to “go.” Emma couldn’t even yell the other kids’ names. She missed so many practices, she hadn’t learned any of them.
“It’s okay, Mom,” Henry had told her. “Sometimes the parents are yelling stuff that’s wrong anyway. I think it annoys Coach Jones.”
If the man was annoyed, he never showed it. There had been so many games when Emma was thankful her son had gotten on his team, and it had nothing to do with his superior British knowledge of the game. He was calm and collected, while other coaches got red in the face and way too intense. He smiled and encouraged the boys, while other coaches yelled things at their players that made Emma cringe. Not that Coach Jones didn’t get loud, but it was to call out instructions to his players or to cheer them on.
Of course, some of the other single moms (and some of the married ones) were glad to have Coach Jones for other reasons. The man was easy on the eyes, there was no doubt about it. Some of the available women had even made rather obvious advances on the man, which he seemed to deflect with easy grace. But not Emma. What little romantic life she had was kept completely separate from Henry which made his coach off limits. Her romantic life was kept on the surface level too, but that was neither here nor there.
“We could add a phone number.”
Emma shakes her head to clear it of thoughts of Coach Jones and his blue eyes, easy smile, and how good he looks in soccer shorts. What were her and Henry talking about again? Oh right, the water bottle.
“You know,” Henry repeats, shaking the Avengers Thermos at her, “if found, call?”
Emma thinks about the mountains of plastic bottles in landfills, guilt rising up. She thinks of how much easier it would be if she didn’t have to buy a case of water every time she went to the store and how much space would be freed up in her tiny Bug without all those bottles of water. She looks into Henry’s eager face, and she caves.
“Fine.”
“Yes,” Henry cheers, pumping his fist.
As soon as they get home, Emma gets out the masking tape. Careful to avoid the Avengers logo, she labels it “Henry Swan. If found, please call 555-0980.”
****************************************************
It’s a week later, and Emma is on another stake out. She’s just received a text from David that he’s dropped Henry off at the apartment. She’s got Ruby lined up to head over at nine if Emma’s still working. Knowing her son’s taken care of relieves some of the tension she’s been carrying in her shoulders, and she relaxes a bit while still keeping her eyes trained on the apartment building across the street.
Her phone rings, and she frowns when she sees Coach Jones flash across her screen. She only has his number saved for when he sends out texts to the team about when the games are, what color jerseys to wear, and alerting them if a game gets rained out. He doesn’t have to, most of the other coaches assume the parents follow the team portal on the rec website, and Emma is incredibly grateful that he’s so considerate. It’s one less thing she has to stress about.
But he’s never called her, and seeing his name now has her going into immediate mom-panic mode where she jumps to the worst possible scenario. She imagines Henry getting bullied by some of the bigger players. He can’t have been injured at practice, or David would have told her, but what if Coach Jones noticed something more subtle? She saw a movie on Netflix about a figure skater who kept coughing at practice and ended up dying of a rare throat cancer.
She shakes her head at her own ridiculousness and answers the call. “Coach Jones, is everything okay?”
“Oh yes, Ms. Swan, I didn’t mean to worry you,” he assures her in his smooth accent. “I just have Henry’s Thermos here.”
“Oh,” Emma replies, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, “thank you. He’s always forgetting his damn water bottles.”
Coach Jones chuckles. “He’s not the only lad on the team that has that habit, I can assure you.”
Emma bites her lip as his accent wreaks havoc with her hormones. Are all British men so eloquent?
“Shall I bring it by?” he continues.
“Um, no,” Emma says, “I’m working still, and I don’t feel comfortable -”
“Say no more, Ms. Swan,” he cuts her off, “I understand completely. Tell me your place of employ and perhaps I could bring it to you there.”
“That’s a bit complicated . . . I’m . . . kind of on a stake out.”
“Stake out?” he asks, and she thinks he sounds impressed. “Are you a cop?”
“No,” Emma says, a smile lifting the corner of her mouth, “I’m in bail bonds.”
“A bounty hunter?”
Emma laughs at the awe in his voice. “In a way.”
He whistles and his clear admiration makes Emma’s chest swell with ridiculous pride.
“No worries,” he tells her, “now that I’m thinking on it, there’s no reason why I can’t fill it up for Henry myself and bring it to the game Saturday.”
“Could you?”
“I’ll set it on my kitchen counter so I’ll be sure to remember,” he assures her. But it isn’t that she thinks he’ll forget, she’s just still, after all these years, surprised at random acts of kindness, no matter how small.
“Thank you, Coach Jones.”
“Please, Ms. Swan, it’s Killian.”
“Then it’s Emma to you.”
“Goodnight, Emma.”
“Goodnight, Killian.”
*************************************************
When Emma and Henry arrive at the soccer fields on Saturday, Coach Jones, as usual, is already there. He waves as soon as he sees them and jogs over with Henry’s Thermos in his hand.
“Thanks, Coach,” Henry says, taking a swig. Then he’s off to join his teammates on the other side of the field.
Emma swallows a lump in her throat when Coach Jones – Killian – lingers. He ducks his head and scratches behind his ear, and Emma can’t help but think that he’s gathering his courage. She’s suddenly petrified that he’s about to ask her out. Oh God, does he think she put her number on Henry’s thermos as a roundabout way to get him to call her?
“I must ask for your forgiveness, Emma.”
She blinks. Of all the things she thought he might say, that wasn’t it. “For what?”
He rubs at the scruff on his jaw. “I have all parent numbers saved as a group on my phone, just for team communication. I have a strict policy not to socialize with parents. It might make others believe I’m playing favorites you understand.”
“Of course,” Emma says, narrowing her eyes. Where’s he going with this?
The nervousness seems to fall away and his gaze becomes not only sincere, but a bit intense. “But after I called you about Henry’s Thermos, I saved your number as just Emma.” She can see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “And I must confess, I've thought of calling you again many times.”
Emma commands her lips not to turn up in a smile and fails miserably. “I see.”
“I didn’t ask permission to have your number in a social compacity, and for that I apologize.”
Emma shrugs one shoulder. “No need. It’s just a phone number. We’re both adults.” Her lips continue their rebellious ways and she add, “And I don’t think just a phone call or a text here or there would be called socializing. Do you?” Is she seriously standing on the sidelines of her son’s soccer game and flirting with his coach?
Killian’s smile broadens to a full grin, dimpling his cheeks. “Aye. I believe you’re onto something, Swan.”
“I thought I told you. It’s Emma,” she says. So she’s flirting, okay?
He winks. “I didn’t say Ms Swan, now did I? The name suits you.” Then he’s jogging backwards towards his team.
Yes, she’s flirting with Henry’s soccer coach, and he’s flirting right back. The scariest part is that she isn’t scared at all. She’s so screwed.
***************************************************
It’s six weeks later, and Emma has lost count of how many text messages she has received from Killian Jones. She’s also talked to him on the phone almost daily, sometimes for hours on end. He hasn’t so much as touched her, they haven’t even been on a date, and already she’s falling hard. But they both agree that officially dating is out of the question as long as he’s Henry’s coach.
Which is why she’d giddy with excitement today. And simultaneously feeling like the worst mother in the world. Because today is Henry’s last soccer game. Maybe. If they lose, the season is over. If they win, there will be one more week of practice, then two weeks of tournament play that involves some complicated system that is ridiculous in her opinion for a rec league of twelve-year-olds. Is she a horrible mother if she doesn’t want to wait three more weeks to jump Henry’s coach? Oh God, she is. She’s a horrible mother.
She also has to talk to Henry about dating his coach. She may be breaking all her self-imposed rules of romance (yes even the one about keeping things surface level), but Henry still comes first. He’s bouncing with excitement in the passenger’s seat as they drive to the soccer fields, making her feel even more conflicted with each passing moment.
“If we go to the tournament Mom, there’s a trophy for the top three teams. I mean, we all get participation medals, but a trophy is something else!”
Emma bites her lip thinking of Henry’s disappointment if they don’t make the tournament. Three weeks, Emma, it’s only three more weeks . . . so she changes her prayers to whoever is listening that Henry’s team wins after all.
“Henry,” she says when she parks the car, “I need to ask you something important.”
“Okay . . . “
She takes a deep breath, “Would it be okay if I date Coach Jones? I mean, once the season is over?”
Henry frowns, and Emma’s heart beats erratically. If her son is upset by the prospect . . .
“Can he still be my coach next season? Cause I wanna be on his team again, and you can request a coach -”
Emma lifts her hand. “Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it, okay?” Although, she doesn’t think it will be a problem if they’re already in an established relationship when the season starts. Wait, she’s totally getting ahead of herself, and she never does that.
“Well, will you ask him before you go on your date? To be sure?”
Emma smiles softly at him. “Is that really the only thing you’re worried about?”
Henry shrugs. “Yeah, I guess so. I mean, it may be a little weird, but he is really great.”
“Yeah, kid, he is.”
**********************************************
The team is packed into Granny’s to celebrate their win. Even though it means three more weeks before she can go on her first date with Killian, Emma can’t help but get swept up with Henry’s enthusiasm. You would think they were going to the World Cup the way the boys are acting. She catches Killian’s eye across the sea of boys shoveling french fries into their mouths, and she knows that taking these kids to the tournament means a lot to him, too. He tears his blue eyes away from her to engage with the boys in front of him, congratulating each of them on how they contributed to their big win. Emma slides away, letting them have this moment.
She finds herself seeking solitude in the hallway near the bathrooms, though the boys are still a dull roar out in the dining room. Someone selects “We are the Champions” on the jukebox, and soon a chorus of warbly prepubescent boys are belting out the tune.
Killian finds her there. He reaches out to touch her elbow hesitantly, and at her soft smile, he rubs both her arms with his hands. She steps away from the wall and closer to him.
“I’m sorry our date is delayed, love.”
Emma shrugs, pushing aside her disappointment. “How can I not be happy for Henry, though? And what about you? I saw you on the sidelines. Are you sure this is just rec soccer? Because you seemed really into it today.”
He laughs, his blush rising to the tips of his elf-shaped ears. “I’m pretty excited, I won’t lie.” He takes a step closer and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. The ghost of a touch is enough to send a shudder through her. “But I’m more excited about our date.”
Her eyes dart from the blue of his eyes down to his lips. “I know we said we couldn’t date while you were Henry’s coach. But I’m not a sure a kiss would -”
He captures her mouth with his before she can finish the sentence. Emma practically loses her balance with the passion and heat of it, grasping onto his soccer jersey with both fists. He presses her against the wall as he deepens it, and Emma thinks she might just rip those soccer shorts off here and now. She whimpers slightly when he pulls away, chasing his lips, and he presses his forehead to hers.
“I was going to ask if I had been too forward, but evidently not,” he teases her.
She doesn’t answer him, she just yanks him close again. If he keeps stealing kisses like this, the next three weeks may not be so bad after all.
And she needs to remember to thank Henry for that phone number idea . . .
142 notes · View notes
go-diane-winchester · 5 years
Text
Misha Collins cant keep track of his own lies.
Misha ''I was a homeless kid' Collins was interviewed by an art magazine, because apparently he is very artsy fartsy.  Whilst given the opportunity to speak about his supposedly favoritist subject: himself, Misha couldn't  remember all the fallacies he had spouted over the years.  I guess Misha figured his mostly underage, deranged fanbase might be too busy, furiously fingering themselves to badly written fanfiction, to actually read something from an intellectual source.  Something tells me that, just like in the mugging case, this reporter wasn't quite buying his lies.  Here are some of the highlights, with Misha's self-indulgent rambling in italics, and with my running commentary in bold [the interviewer is in bold italics]:
''Like most kids, I liked making things with my hands, and my mother helped facilitate this when I was pretty young. But I followed that impulse to an apprentice-level devotion. I would seek out woodworkers when I was 10 or 11, going into shops and learning how to use a lathe or – just asking. I grew up in western Massachusetts, and by the time I got into high school I was fully into this – just talking to people and learning things from them in person.''
So his hippy, drug addict mom who stashed pot down her youngest child's underwear for fear of being arrested, and who, for a short time, raised poor Misha in a car, honed his artistic skills when he was pretty young?  When?  When they were living in the woods?  And using a bowl of ice as a refrigerator?  So either his story of his childhood is greatly exaggerated or....yeah, that's all I got.  How gullible does he think people are?
Then in high school, I needed a job, so I started doing some manual labor.
So whilst at his elite private school, where there are rich dads and moms dropping off their darlings every morning, Misha chooses manual labor.  He likes to talk to people but he didn't speak to Mr and Mrs Moneybags?  He could have been a petty gopher in one of their companies and fared better.  After all, he needed a job.  I wonder why he chose ''manual labor''?  And why he chose to word it like that, instead of saying ''I became a carpenter's apprentice''.  I guess it sounds honorable.  That's is nothing dramatic about  saying that you flip burgers at McDs.  Saying that you work in a menial, underpaid job for a multimillion dollar company, does have a more dramatic feel to it. 
I built that barn on my mother’s property. Our house had burned down, so with the insurance proceeds, we built that and...
Wait, wasn't Misha's mom a pothead who lived in a car for some time with her two children?  Now, not only does she have property but she has the money to pay for insurance.  When did you live in the car, Misha?  When the house burnt down?  Why didn't you live in that house you showed footage of, on twitter?  Its a nice house, complete with Christmas stockings.  It doesn't quite gel with your underprivileged childhood narrative, but nice nonetheless.   
I worked a lot when I was in college, probably 30 hours a week most of the time. I did some handyman stuff, some carpentry stuff. After sophomore year, I took a year off. I interned at the [Clinton] White House, worked at NPR, became an EMT, started a summer camp for kids. It was a great year.
What is he?  A career whore?  So he was artsy fartsy, but he worked everywhere doing jobs that were unrelated to each other, instead of staying in his field of carpentry, and making money from that.  He got EMT certification.  Was it free?  Did he pay for it with his tuition fees?  What was the purpose of it, if making money for fees was of paramount importance?  That doesn't make sense, because if he was working 30 hour weeks, when did he have time to study?  The average work day is a tad longer, about 40 hours a week.  And if he was studying and working, when was Superman sleeping?  Why was he working so hard?  To put himself to college, don'tcha know.  Even though colleges offer student loans and don't accept their fees in installments.  And yet, he took time off for one year after sophomore.  Was it to make a lot of money for his tuition fees?  Nope, it was to become an EMT and start a summer camp for kids.  I guess summer camps are big business and you can pay off great debts if you start one.  Good to know.  His internment at the Whitehouse only lasted four months, and yet he has acquired all the knowledge there is to acquire, to become a political knowitall on twitter.  Sidenote:  Is it normal for internships at the Whitehouse to last, such a short time.  I am genuinely curious, because it doesn't sound right. 
This is where I think the interviewer started to sound like she was side-eyeing the wood working maestro and his yarns of tall tales.
After graduation you got into acting, and in 1999, you moved with Victoria to Los Angeles for film and television work. There, in 2001, you bought your first house. Tell us about it. You were a starving actor?
Yeah. Right after we bought it, our realtor said, “There’s a TV show that would like to shoot your house.” They brought this [house-hunting] couple through, and when we saw the episode, they had surveyed the house and were like, “We don’t want to touch this piece of s---.” It was a real wreck, had been seriously neglected. It was built in the 1920s, and built by people who weren’t carpenters, didn’t know what they were doing. It was built so poorly, and everything was sagging – the window frames, the eaves.
Can you believe that?  The starving actor bought a house.  Let that sink in.  He recognized that the house was built by non-carpenters [how was this building standing.  Twas a miracle, I tell you.]  And despite being a starving actor with a small amount of money, and a knowledge of carpentry, he bought a house that was badly built by non-carpenters.  So he knew he was buying a liability.  Why?
The kitchen floor you put in is beautiful. Yes, that’s gunstock, from a gun manufacturer in Northern California.
Mr Gun Free supporting the Gun manufacturing industry.  Man, this guy is a hypocrite. 
You lived in that first house for 11 years. Do you still own it? We rent it out to some lovely people who love it, so it’s good.
Fun fact:  Mr Humble Pie has two pieces of property.  And he is making money off of one, but he chooses to attend cons with the same torn T-shirts from years ago, or has to fleece off of Jensen's wardrobe and generosity, otherwise he would be doing his panels naked, poor thing.  Why doesn't he stop his cruises for a year, and use that money to buy decent threads?  One shirt can last a few years.  The lies are  embarrassing, but miraculously his minions believe him. 
On the way to this house, you became very successful with this hugely popular TV series. Life changed. Do you still manage to make time for handwork? 
Yeah. I’ve discovered that I really like working. Work can be respite for me, and switching gears is really key. Going from working on scripts to working with my hands is therapeutic, for sure. I am still managing to work with my hands. I was just doing some woodworking yesterday. I do a lot of cooking. That’s a big part of my life, and also I think a barometer of emotional health. When I’m not cooking, it’s a sign that I’m too stressed out and I’ve got to dial things back a little bit. I do a lot of canning. I put up 120 jars of blackberry jam this fall.
What an irony!  One of the greatest instigators of stress for his co-workers and their fans, gets stressed out himself.  Yeah, guilt can do that.  Plus, he likes quantifying accomplishments.  That is why Gish exists.  Quantity over quality. 
Which artists inspire you? I love Christo and Jeanne Claude, because of the mind-bending scale on which they’ve created things, like they’re rethinking what’s possible. I’m somebody who kind of likes to break rules, to bend rules when appropriate.
I could write a whole big post, on Misha's rule breaking and bending.  From stealing Whitehouse property [and bragging about it] to telling fans about the scratched line in the Crypt which got Jensen a barrage of abuse on Twitter.  The one thing that he spoke about that doesn't make sense is his story about almost getting arrested for reading a book on a building rooftop.  It makes no sense.  There is a portion of the story that is missing, I'm sure.  Misha is a great exaggerator.
Have you turned any Supernatural castmates on to craft? On a set, there’s tons of downtime, a lot of sitting and knitting and crocheting. And I have occasionally been in the mix there. Last year Jensen [Ackles], my co-star, walked up and saw me knitting, and he just looked at me and said, “Really?” But I could tell there was jealousy behind it, more than criticism. So I’ll teach him to knit, and it’ll be fine. We’ll get through this.
Will you look at that?  There are around 70 people on set at any given time.  Many of them must have seen Misha knitting.  And look who Misha decided to mention.  Was that a ''just in case, a nutty heller is reading this'' insertion?  No mention is made of Jared, because who cares about him, right?  Got to give the crowd what they want.  I am side eyeing the knitting claim myself, because I do knit and having seen a photo of him knitting, I can safely say that, that is not how you grasp at the yarn.  You knit with loose fingers because yarn is abrasive. 
Tumblr media
The first big project we did with Random Acts was we built an orphanage and community center in Haiti. I would not have thought that was a tackle-able enterprise if I didn’t have a background in building.  Our biggest fundraising driver for the projects that we do – like building a school or an orphanage – is we bring folks down in groups of 25 or so to Haiti or to Nicaragua, and they help in the building process. We roll up our sleeves and get our hands dirty.
Wow, he built the 500K orphanage with his own hands, but didn't think about lights for the children.  His response regarding the lights was ''it's Haiti and it takes three f*cking years to get an electrician''.  Wow, I am a third worlder too, but we have electricians.  How backwards is Haiti that he couldn't find a single electrician in the whole country, to light the place up for the poor orphans?  He couldn't squeeze in one electrician in the group of 25 or so.  Are there no philanthropic electricians in his circles?  My word, electricians are such selfish people, don't you think?  They don't want to roll up their sleeves and get their hands dirty.  Why couldn't he just pay for one instead of waiting three years?  Fun fact:  According to their website, the orphanage, aka, the Jacmel children's center houses only 15 children, but another page says there are 27 children living in the house.  They don't know how many children they are looking after.  But that is still a small amount.  So where did all these kids go?
Tumblr media
Misha either staged this picture with school kids on an excursion or all those kids got adopted by the staggeringly high quantity of rich couples living in Haiti, right Misha?  SMH
This question made me smirk.  The interviewer had to know Misha has never been to public school.  Look how Mr Bleeding Heart answers the question.
As we know, art programs in K-12 public schools these days are in decline, especially shop class, manual arts. How can we nurture creativity in kids, and why is that important? When I was 9 years old, I had a paper route. One day my younger brother and I were collecting money, and Mr. Haigis answered the door. He started talking to us, and he discovered that our parents were separated, and we didn’t live with our father. In the 1960s, he had run a woodshop for little kids. He had stopped doing it because he got busy with his career. Now he was retired. These two boys show up delivering papers on his front stoop, and it just comes to him: “I’ve got to do the same thing for those kids.”
So Mr Haigis left all the poor, underprivileged children and decided to help these two boys who were going to an elite school?  Sounds legit.  What about public school children, Mr Haigis?  Don't you care about them?   
I was a starving actor for at least a decade.
Misha was a starving actor who worked on 24 projects before getting SPN, but he still managed to buy a house.  Fun fact:  he was an  associate producer on a docu-movie, ''Loot'' which won best documentary at the LA film festival.  His movie didn't need sock puppets to win this one.  Misha should produce more.  That way he wont be on screen, festering up the frame.  The less we see of him, the better. 
http://www.jacmelchildren.org/about/team/
http://www.jacmelchildren.org/
https://craftcouncil.org/magazine/article/builder-baker-angel-maker
22 notes · View notes
second-hand-heaven · 6 years
Text
Tim Drake vs The Cold and Flu Aisle
Ao3
sequel to Conner Kent vs The Menstrual Hygiene Aisle
Summ: Tim Drake is a good bro, which is why he's staring at the cold and flu aisle in the pharmacy at 2am.
It's his night off, but Tim is still out on Gotham's streets at 2am. At least this time he's not wearing tights. As the pharmacy comes into sight, he slows his bike and pulls up to the curb.
Helmet off, he shakes out his hair before dismounting the bike. There’s no point fussing with his hair, though, as flicks up his jacket hood a moment later. In and out, that's the plan. He's got other places to be tonight, and being spotted at Tim Drake, billionaire's son, would be counter-productive.
The bell above the door barely musters a chime as he enters. He scans the store sharply, but he’s not looking for any threats. Well, he is, but not intentionally. He’s got his sights set on something other than vigilante justice tonight. Okay so, the cold and flu aisle. There it is. He catalogues each zone: child-appropriate treatments, “chemical free” treatments (Tim scoffs at it and moves along), sections for different types of coughs. Oddly enough, there's no section for treating a Kryptonian flu, which is a shame. That would be really helpful right about now. But Kon is half human after all, even if that half is taken from an evil megalomaniac. Surely some of this stuff should work on him?
With a shrug, he piles the products into his arms. Is it too much? Is he overly worried? Probably. It's just that Conner's never been sick before, not like this. So it's logical, then, to be concerned. Perfectly logical. He takes another packet of throat lozenges, just in case. Maybe should have grabbed a basket...
Waiting in line, because there was somehow a rush of customers this late at night, Tim spots something sitting on the shelving by the counter. It stares up at him with a stitched-on grin. Its left ear is flopped over, and on instinct Tim reaches out to fix it. The fur is impossibly soft, melting into Tim's palm. Its glass eyes plead with him, and he can’t say no. He adds it to his collection and finally makes it to the counter. The sullen cashier scans Tim's items slower than a goddamn sloth. Tim taps his foot impatiently.
Purchases tucked safely in his backpack, he heads out into Gotham's fog-drenched night. By some miracle, his bike is still by the curb and in one piece. Must be a quiet night for the rogues tonight. Revving his bike, he pulls away from the curb. He speeds back to the Manor; he's got a plane to catch.
Tim lands the Batplane in the empty field behind the Kent farm and jogs toward the house. The cloaking device hides it from view, although he shouldn't be gone too long.
The house is dark as he approaches. It should be, considering it's nearing 4am. He swings himself up to the open window with slightly less grace than usual.
“You could use the door, you know?” Kon says, his voice heavily congested. He sits up on the bed, switching on his bedside lamp. Pushing the blankets off his legs, he makes to stand before deciding against it, sinking down on the bed softly. He's wearing a ratty T-shirt and a pair of blue boxers, his hair loose from sleep and looking impossibly soft.
Tim nearly falls out the window. He's tired, okay? It’s definitely not because of the godly sight before him. Godly. Even sick with the flu Conner still manages to look like a freaking model. It's so not fair.
To cover for his earlier unbalance, he enters the room with a move he learned from Nightwing, a flip with just a touch of Dick’s brand of showmanship. Kon grins at the display, and it makes his chest tighten. He can picture the teasing he'd get from the rest if the bats, but none of his siblings are here to laugh about his useless crush anyway.
“I could,” he says, crossing the room, “but you never do me that courtesy when you come to visit.”
Kon lays back against the bed. “Yeah, but I can fly.” His shirt rides up a little, showing a ribbon of skin just above his waistband. Tim's eyes linger there a moment too long. He sits on the bed, an arms reach away from Kon.
“Not at the moment you can't.” It's true. Kon called him after he sneezed mid-air and flew backwards into a grain silo. He's been grounded since, but this cold hasn't budged. Hence why Tim's here with heavy artillery.
“Ugh,” Kon groans, throwing a hand across his eyes. “I hate this. How can people live like this?”
Human. Kon must feel horribly human, weakened by a common bug. Or perhaps not a common bug, considering its a Kryptonian strain. “It's a good thing I brought supplies then.” He opens his backpack and catalogues each item. Tissues (he insists on the kind that's infused with aloe vera), cold and flu tablets, two bottles of water, a thermos of Alfred's chicken soup, some vaporub, lozenges, and the blue teddy bear. Excellent. He lays it all out on the bed.
Kon props himself up on an elbow, watching. “Tim, you didn't have to…”
No, but he wanted to. That's what friends do, right? They look after each other. And besides, he kind of owes Kon after the tampon incident. “Of course I did. The Kent's are out of town; I didn't want you to be alone.” He knows firsthand how much it sucks to be sick alone.
There's a genuine smile on Kon's face, softer than his usual player grin. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” He picks up the packet of cold and flu tablets, popping the blister packets and catching the pills in his hand.
“Maybe you should go a little easy on those…” But Conner pays him no mind, downing half the pills with a gulp of water. The bob of his Adam’s apple is tantalising to watch. Tim looks away, feeling a flush rising from beneath his collar.
“I'm Kryptonian, it won't affect me that much.”
“Half Kryptonian,” Tim reminds him, “but either way you shouldn't have these in an empty stomach.” He reaches for the thermos and unscrews the lid. He pours the contents into the cap and passes it to Kon. “Alfred made you some soup.”
Kon looks up at him in confusion. “He made me soup?”
He was the one to offer. Alfred's got a soft spot for Kon, ever since he found out about Kon's late night misadventures in the menstrual hygiene aisle. According to the Brit, Conner had proved himself to be “a fine young gentleman”, and was now apparently privy to soup privileges. Which is a big deal in the Wayne household, let it be known.
He takes a cautious sip, then his face lights up. “This is amazing. I love Alfred. I love him so much. He made me soup. He's my grandpa now, I'm adopting him.”
Tim barely holds back a laugh. “I don't think that's how it works, bro.”
“I don't care. I'll marry into the Wayne family if I have to.”
Marry into the… wow. Is this where he pastes a sign on his forehead saying ‘I'm single, marry me’? Perhaps not, it might seem a little desperate. “Cass is out of the question, unless you want to fight Steph to the death. Although, I hear Batcow is single.”
Conner shudders. “I live in the country, Tim. Please don't joke about that.”
Gross. Tim takes the tub of vaporub from the bed and hands it to Kon. “It should help with the congestion,” he explains.
Kon stares at it, but makes no move to open it.
“Let me,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Shirt off.”
Tim unscrews the lid and dips two fingers into jelly. Pungent, it should do the trick to clear the congestion.
He turns back to Kon and pauses. He's seen Kon without his shirt plenty of times, but this is… it's much more intimate this time.
Kon jumps at the first touch. “It's cold.”
“It's the menthol, you'll be fine,” Tim says, keeping his eyes on the task at hand. As if anything could distract him right now. The expanse of toned muscle, hairless tanned skin, keeps his attention like the most vexing puzzle. He wants to lick it. Probably not the best idea for numerous reasons, first and foremost being the horrid taste if the vaporub.
He works the jelly into Kon's skin, massaging gently at his chest. The contrast between his pale, scarred hands, and Kon's golden skin is gorgeous. Gradually, he works his way upward, to Kon's throat. He feels Kon swallow, the bob of his Adam’s apple beneath his finger. His hand stills against Kon's throat, resting there. What would it be like to squeeze it? What sounds would he make?
Conner's eyes are wide, lips parted. “Tim.” His voice is low, tight. It's so hot. “Tim?” he repeats, more concerned this time.
Tim pulls back, clearing his throat. “That should do it.” He wipes off his hand on his jeans, avoiding meeting Kon's gaze.
“What's that?” Kon says, breaking the awkward silence. When Tim finally glances over, he sees Kon pointing at the bear.
He feels himself blush. “Oh, um, I got this for you.” He picks up the soft toy and passes it to Kon. “Kids like to have soft toys when they're sick.”
Kon is in awe of the blue-furred bear. “I've never had one before.”
Oh. Of course Cadmus would never have given the growing Superman clone a toy, but the realisation hits him hard. Kon never had a soft toy before? Shit, he never even had a childhood. And isn't that a little heartbreaking?
Kon stares at the fluffy bear in his hand, thumb absently stroking the fur.
“Well now you do.” Tim tries and fails to read his expression. Is he okay? Was it too much?
He's enveloped in a hug, tight, cutting off his train of thought. “Kon?”
“Sorry.” Kon jerks back. “I-uh, I don't want you to get sick.”
It's sweet, really, but Tim couldn't care less about getting sick right now. He wants Conner's arms around him again. “It's a Kryptonian cold, and oddly enough I have no Kryptonian in me.”
There's a dopey grin spread across Kon's face. Seems like the medicine has started to kick in. “Would you like some?”
Tim nearly chokes on his tongue. “What?” Surely he misheard...
“Would you like some Kryptonian in you?” Conner giggles.
Tim doesn't answer, instead he shoves against Kon's shoulder that's shaking with laughter.
In all honesty, he would. He most certainly would, but that seems like a weird thing to admit to his best friend. But then again, said best friend was the one who brought it up. Having some Kryptonian in him is like, ninety five percent of his fantasy material. But that doesn't matter. Kon is his friend. No matter what happens, no matter his feelings, that is the most important thing. And besides, Kon's obviously too hopped up on whatever was in those cold and flu tablets to actually mean it.
He rolls his eyes at Kon's antics and starts gathering his backpack. It's late, he should head back to Gotham before the sun is up. He stands from the bed and heads over to the window. The floorboards groan with each step, grown unused to being stepped on. “Get some sleep, Kon. Let me know how you're feeling in the morning.”
“Stay,” Kon says with a pout.
God, he wants to. But he needs to get back. If he stays, he's not sure how to stop things from being weird. He opens the window, about to slide though, but Kon halts him with a single word.
“Please?” There's a vulnerability in his plea.
Kon wants him, wants him here. Tim can't bring himself to fight it. His backpack drops to the floor. He kicks off his boots and starts undressing. Down to his T-shirt and boxers, he lays down on the bed beside Kon. “Batman is going to kill me.”
Kon pulls the covers up over them and scoots closer. There's no need to be so close, not really, but it's not like Tim's about to complain.
Spooning Tim's form, he murmurs, “I won't let him.” His arms tighten around Tim's torso. “He'll have to go through me.”
Which, in hindsight, Bruce would be quite capable of. He's got enough fail-safes for dealing with full-blooded Kryptonians; Conner wouldn't be an issue for him. But that's not what matters. Tim and Kon protect one another, look after each other, and the assurance of Kon's words let's an odd emotion wash over him. Safe. He feels safe. Wasn't he supposed to be comforting Kon, not the other way around? Regardless, he basks in it, basks in the warmth of Conner's arms, just like he did that night at the Manor. The reality is so much better than the memory of being held.
“Hey, Kon?” The words escape his lips before he can stop them.
“Mmyeah?” he answers, voice heavy with drowsiness.
“We’re a good team, aren't we? We have each others backs.”
“‘course.”
“And nothing would change that?”
“Never.” Kon's breathing is even against the back of his neck. He seems earnest, even a hair's breadth away from sleep.
But his useless feelings for Kon certainly might. That's the kicker, that's what he's afraid of. It's so dumb. He's so dumb. How could he let this happen? How could he fall for his best friend like this? They're friends, best friends. Maybe they can get through this, get over Tim's inconvenient and rather unhelpful crush, and not lose their friendship in the process. Reassured, Tim turns in Kon's arms to face him. Conner's eyes are closed, lashes heavy on his cheekbone. “Kon?”
Conner doesn't reply.
Good. One day he'll have the guts to say this while Conner's awake. But today is not that day. He steels himself with a deep breath. “I like you. A lot. I want to tell you just how much, but I'm so scared I'll lose you. And I can't. I can't lose you. Not again.” Fuck, he’s such a coward. His eyes burn. “I'm scared to love you, Kon, because it's going to hurt.” He watches Kon's sleeping face, unmarred and so so beautiful, and he just melts. “It already does.”
“S’okay,” Conner mumbles, pulling Tim to his chest. “I'm scared too.”
FIN
125 notes · View notes
itshansolo · 6 years
Text
my review of the last jedi
spoilers, very much so
It’s easy to understand why the critics love this film. It’s very different from The Empire Strikes Back, it’s got some excellent acting, surprising moments and good action scenes. For people who get paid to analyze films as their own entities and do so countless times a year - and as such probably don’t remember much about The Force Awakens aside from “Han was killed as Luke showed up in the last few seconds” - that’s all it takes for a 10/10 experience.
The film ends on a high note, so you walk away from the theater in ecstasy and still absorbing what you just saw. But the euphoria doesn’t resist 10 minutes of critical thinking. For a film that praises itself for digging deep into its characters, The Last Jedi is surprisingly superficial. Presumably, one of the first questions Rian Johnson asked himself was “what is Luke Skywalker doing on that island?”. Turns out he feels guilty about what happened to Ben Solo and the Jedi order he was building. Wait, you might say, I thought the previous movie had already made that clear? That’s because it did. The Last Jedi was supposed to be Luke’s movie and we get no insight whatsoever into his character that we didn’t already know or make educated guesses about.
Except for one thing. Turns out he tried to kill his nephew when he sensed the darkness inside him. Yeah. Exactly. He didn’t give up on Darth Vader of all people, but he was ready to slaughter his teenage nephew. There is no plausible explanation for this. That was before shit hit the fan in the Skywalker household, so any psychological trouble that might excuse his odd behaviour when Rey finds him does not excuse this.
That’s not the full extent of Luke’s iffy characterization. We all remember how he went against his masters’ teachings and faced Darth Vader with nothing but compassion under his sleeve. So tell me how does it make sense for a Force Ghost Yoda to appear and lecture him on all that was wrong about the old ways of the Jedi? It doesn’t. Their respective beliefs were flipped.
In the last few months, the powers that be have repeatedly stated in interviews - as a weird badge of pride - that each director is entirely free to come up with the story of each film, with nothing but the previous instalment as a starting point. Long story short, the trilogy is being written as they go along. And it shows. Snoke was nothing but a plot device. The Knights of Ren are nowhere to be seen. There’s no explanation for how and why the Skywalker lightsaber ended up in Maz Kanata’s possession. Maz, by the way, has the most inorganic introduction I’ve ever had the displeasure to watch. I just have to presume it was in Lupita Nyong’o’s contract to be in at least two films.
If Lupita’s contract might explain Maz’s atrocious cameo, Benicio Del Toro can only be a close friend of Rian Johnson’s with a lifelong dream to be in a Star Wars movie. The character, whose name we do not learn, is completely useless and badly portrayed. The necessary skills that he has could have been easily transfered to Rose. As a side effect, the whole Canto Bight detour - also a waste of time - could have been thrown out altogether.
Speaking of Rose, she’s one of the few elements that actually work in this film. Kelly Marie Tran is excellent and the character is immediately likable. We learn more about her than we learned about Rey in two goddamn movies. Her storyline with Finn, as mentioned above, could have used a little trimming, but I have to disagree with critics who claim it’s the biggest/only weakness of the film. The sheer charisma of Kelly and John Boyega carries the storyline. 
The truth is there a lot of weakness and they are spread out. Case in point, the dynamic between Amilyn Holdo and Poe, my least favorite part by far. Rian Johnson came up with the character of Amilyn and Claudia Gray borrowed the name to write a different character in her novel Princess of Alderaan. Those who have read this book know that she’s the Luna Lovegood of Star Wars and her charming personality completely vanishes in the film. She’s virtually a different woman. Did the story group of Lucasfilm and their supposed responsibility for continuity in a galaxy far far away take a vacation while Claudia was writing the book?
It’s clear that Holdo was introduced in the movie to prop up Poe Dameron’s character development, but the trouble is that such development is not necessarily welcome or well done. I don’t know how a movie that lasts two and a half hours can feel rushed, but here it did. Poe and Holdo’s altercation is truncated, confusing, almost impossible to get invested in.
Did you notice how I failed to mention Rey until now? You may think Daisy Ridley was just being humble when she kept saying in the press tour that Rey is not necessarily the main character. She wasn’t though. Rey does not feel like the main character at all. As a matter of fact, Poe feels more like a protagonist this time around. And that’s saying something, considering his character was supposed to die early on in The Force Awakens.
I’m not gonna ramble at length about the godforsaken topic of Rey’s parentage. I’m just gonna say that, aside from being almost comical how The Force Awakens missed the mark when introducing the child of literal nobodies, The Last Jedi takes its sweet time to settle the debate once and for all, as it continues to tag people along like Lucasfilm and Disney have been doing for two years. As soon as Rey and Kylo have their first bizarre Sense8-esque Force meeting, my seatmate whispered to his friend “wait, are they siblings?” and I wanted to take a bullet to the brain right the fuck there. BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT WOULD HAVE MADE SENSE. Mere seconds after one of their Force connections, Luke has a similar scene with Leia. You know… Leia. HIS SISTER. At some point, Kylo tells Rey that he knows she’s gonna join him eventually… because he’s seen who her parents are. Geez, Louise. I wonder why the identity of her parents would compel her to get closer to Kylo. Maybe because they are HIS PARENTS TOO?? No, that would have just been too good.
And it doesn’t end there! Remember that teaser in which something sinister is calling to Rey and Luke yells “RESIST IT”?. That was awesome, wasn’t it? Who was calling to her? Snoke? Kylo? Turns out it was… a cave. A cave in which Rey has a borderline psychodelic experience that involves mirrors. She asks to be shown the face of her parents and the music intensifies until… we see Rey staring at her own reflection. That’s brilliant, Rian. Keep building up the mystery only to reveal later on that her parents were alcoholic junkers that may or may not remain nameless for eternity (and Rey shall remain just “Rey” forever).
I’m still trying to figure out the purpose of that cave scene. This goes back to how disappointingly shallow the movie was. We were supposed to learn some pretty interesting lore about the Force and what did we actually get? We learned that the Force doesn’t belong to the Jedi (duh)… and that’s it. Are you serious?
Let me get into what I did like about the film. Like I said, John Boyega and Kelly Marie Tran are a tour de force of charisma. They’re the most endearing pair and just plain fun to watch. Although Finn has been criminally demoted from his leading man status, his confrontation with Phasma (who’s Phasma again?) brought nice closure to his arc as a former stormtrooper.
I know many of my mutuals and followers cannot stand Adam Driver. I have side-eyed some of the things he said recently myself. But the guy is phenomenal in this movie. I caught myself looking forward to his appearences, because he is simply magnetic. I have no idea what’s gonna happen to Kylo, but I’m invested either way. The one thing The Last Jedi taught me is that speculation is pointless, because fans put way more thought into the story than the powers that be. That’s depressing, but it’s the reality of the situation.
I think my favorite scene in the whole movie is Kylo and Rey in Snoke’s throne room. The tension was palpable. The way Kylo ended Snoke had everyone in the room on the edge of their seats and the battle against the Praetorian Guards right afterwards was simply breathtaking.
Carrie Fisher is so Leia in her last appearence. I’m pretty happy with her send off, all things considered. She felt way more at ease in the role when compared to The Force Awakens and we gotta give Johnson some credit here, even if I want to strangle him most of the time. The infamous Superman scene is pretty awkward, but it was about time she showed some badass Force powers. The old hologram from A New Hope being what motivates Luke to finally help Rey was a stroke of genius. Such a simple plot development, but literally no one saw it coming. There wasn’t a single dry eye in the audience.
LUKE AND LEIA REUNITE! Well, sort of. But it was enough for me. Which brings me to Luke projecting himself across the galaxy. It sounds cartoonish on paper, but boy did it work! If you didn’t get goosebumps when he became one with the Force to the sound of Binary Sunset, something is wrong with you. The shoulder wipe was LEGENDARY. Some of the humor didn’t work in this film, but most certainly did, especially Chewie and the porgs (which are adorable and thankfully not overused) and Luke hitting Rey in the hand with a stick when he asks her to reach out.
As a standalone film, I give The Last Jedi an 8 out of 10. But as a follow-up to a seven-part saga, it’s a 6/10 with a pinch of generosity.
151 notes · View notes
theplateescape · 7 years
Text
L.A.
Los Angeles: City of fallen angels
Tumblr media
After much too long dragging ourselves out of the quicksand of our modern lives, we touched down in the city of angels with no sleep and, by then, uncomfortable shoes. We at once found ourselves being spoken to like slow children by a large, surly black woman who had apparently seen fit to apply thick, white house paint as nail polish and eye shadow, as we negotiated passage through the broken down houses, and barred windows of Inglewood to our accom in Koreatown. After a brief glimpse of the famous Hollywood sign through the green/grey haze of the thick LA air, we arrived at our temporary home. Our driver of course, was not shy to ask me for a tip (we come from a non-tipping culture in Australia and New Zealand) an awkward exchange which consisted of him giving me change for the ride fare, and then me giving it straight back. We then stashed the bags, as we were much too early to check in and, with a much needed change into my trusty jandels/ thongs/ flip flops, set out into the 40 Celsius morning to kill some time.
Following a lot of cursing and sweating, we managed to get a tuna melt in the belly, and board one of the mobile looney bins they call buses, to the Downtown area for a quick reconnaissance mission. We stumbled into “The Last Bookstore”, and the “Grand Central Market” which was more of an immense extended food court, with great local beers, and a mind boggling array of local delicacies. With the jagged teeth of jet lag digging deeply into our ability to remain conscious, we just managed to get back to Koreatown before surrendering to sleep. Waking sticky, but refreshed, it was back to the Grand Central market for great local beers, tongue tacos and the spiciest raw prawns I’ve had since Bangkok. Marinated in lime juice and coriander and swimming in pure evil, this refreshing bowl of prawn aguachile was the perfect catalyst for a big night out.
First stop, “Varnish.” The worst kept secret bar in LA. With a great cocktail list and super authentic prohibition era speakeasy vibe, this gem is hidden behind a sandwich shop. You enter through a door that from a distance just looks like a wooden panel wall. A few cocktails down, the best mint julep I’ve ever had, and free shots from the vibrant and knowledgeable bar staff, we did what all self respecting traveling alcoholics should do, and asked the bar keep where they go to drink. Seems simple enough right? It’s like asking chefs where they go to eat. We’ve employed this technique many times in foreign lands and have yet to be disappointed. Next to “Bar Clacson” for a beer and to watch people play pétanque on their full sized indoor pitch until I notice a lot of people emerging from the back of the bar. Another hidden space is revealed as we head through to a dark, dingier space playing punk music at high volumes and finished with arcade games. Needles to say this is much more our scene and we hold up here until we can barely stand.
Tumblr media
As we leave, we employ the old ‘ask the bar tender where to go’ trick one last time and end up in the middle of nowhere eating tostadas and tacos from a truck with a bunch of LA natives. These taco trucks are an institution here and people are pretty faithful to their favourites. I’ll admit on our way to the “Flamin Tacos” truck, it seemed like the mother of all bad ideas; heading into the unknown with no trusty internet service or cell phone coverage to get our drunk asses back home. But as soon as I tasted the “Cubano,” a two pound sandwich filled with every kind of dead animal you could think of I realised, I am home!
Tumblr media
As a child I can vividly remember one of my friends going to Disneyland over the school break. I can also remember being intensely jealous and vowing to get myself there some day. Well folks some 25 years later this overgrown kid got his wish, and then some. We hit three theme parks in 4 days, a deceptively exhausting exercise. I’ll spare the details in favour of a brief overview of each as we experienced them.
Universal studios. This was our first one so we were naturally pretty excited despite getting in from our taco excursion at 2.30am. In short this place is like the Gold Coast’s “Movie World” on crack! Not so many actual roller coasters, but 3D motion master type rides are the go here. The highlight was definitely Harry Potter’s Wizarding World. All the lengthy queues for rides were well shaded with big misting fans everywhere, which were a godsend in the crippling heat. Longest wait time was 45 mins for the Harry Potter ride, but it was the best!
Tumblr media Tumblr media
S
6 Flags, Magic Mountain. Our roller coaster lust was fully sated at this park. There so many that we couldn’t possibly ride them all in one day, though we did try. This one is a long way out of town and involved us having to hire a car and drive ourselves out there. We’d had another big night the day before. This coupled with learning to drive on the right side of the road made for a pretty exhilarating experience before we even got to the park. The highlight was probably the “Tatsu” in which you are strapped in then turned to face the ground, and hurtled head first through the most terrifying series of twists and turns ever dreamed up by some sick genius engineers. It was the first ride of the day and we foolishly thought we had picked a gentle ride to warm up with, not the most intense ride in the whole park! Parts of this park where a bit run down and shabby to be fair. Also in a week of bad theme park food, the styrofoam biscuit they were marketing as a burger here was the fucking pits. Longest wait time was an hour I think, and lines were unshaded and the park overall felt poorly thought out compared to the other two. The “Superman Escape” is worth an honourable mention as I have never screamed with such honest and complete terror as I did while being shot 35 meters in the air backwards at 100miles per hour.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Disneyland. We really did save the best for last. As soon as you set foot in the magical kingdom you can’t help but revert back to an awe stricken 10 year old kid. The obsessive attention to detail was impressive to say the least. Some of these rides are at least 40 years old now, but you’d never know. Everything was so beautifully maintained, you’d swear it was built yesterday. Beautiful design and flawless staff execution, (the other parks probably had more thrilling rides) overall immersion, professionalism, and a sense of true childhood wonder made this place on point. Highlight was the “Indiana Jones “ ride which also had the longest wait, not that that mattered as the queue lead you through an ancient temple complete with booby traps and ancient relics. Also “New Orleans Town” was fucken mint! Unfortunately the “Haunted Mansion “ and “Space Mountain” where both closed which kinda sucks but this place was still the happiest place on earth. They also had the best food with the “Dole Whip”, a pineapple soft serve that actually tasted like a real pineapple, and a Moa sized turkey leg that tasted like ham and left me greasy and defeated.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
We did all the other LA staples, the Hollywood walk of fame, the Chinese theatre. We saw an orchestra performance of some of John Williams finest film scores at the Hollywood Bowl which was $20, BYO, and so epic it still brought a smile to this jaded old travellers face. I was delightfully and constantly surprised at how, despite the reputation for rudeness, the people of LA were so polite, kind, and helpful. The traffic gets a bum rap here too but to be honest, Auckland traffic is much, much worse (sort your shit out Auckland!), besides once you have mastered the “hook turn” on the mean streets of the Melbourne CBD, you can basically drive anywhere it seems (except Saigon, Saigon is fucked up!). We’re told that no trip to this town is complete without a trip to “In-n-Out Burger” and to be fair it was an experience. If you’ve never seen a drive through queue spill out onto the road, around the block and hold up traffic a road over, then you ain’t seen shit son! The burgers were good, but not that good. We went to “Five Guys” burger parlour a couple of days later which was far superior in every way, and we didn’t have to wait 45 mins for burgers and battle overweight, heavy breathing burger whores for a scrap of table space to actually eat. In a town built on hype and little substance I felt like In-n-Out’s popularity is symptomatic of an age when you can be famous for simply being famous. Sure the secret menu items are kind of a cool touch, but is a secret menu really that cool if everyone, their dog and the internet knows about it?
Tumblr media
After cramming in as much as possible in our short time, in this very large city, we decided to hit “Little Tokyo” for drinks and nibbles. Starting with “Mumford Brewing “ we demolished their range of very delicious IPA’s before striding through what was hands down the biggest homeless tent city I have come across. The stark contrast between the “haves” and the “have-nots” in this town was never so brutally apparent as while watching my back we made our way to the next port, in this sea of misery and decrepitude. We’ve seen real poverty in places like Cambodia before, but it was a cold hard slap in the face to see this happening on such a large scale in the “Greatest Nation On Earth”; for shame America. 
Tumblr media
Our night then took us to “Wolf & Crane”, where the barkeep directed us to a great sushi bar down the road (always ask the bartenders where to go), where we gorged ourselves on very well priced raw delicacies prepared right in front of us, and sipped giant Sopporo’s and tried our best to order what we could in poorly spoken Japanese. Back to Wolf & Crane for more beers, whiskey tasting flights, and eventually being held captive by the head bartender who knocked off, sat down with us, and proceeded to get us completely shit faced until the wee hours, and refused to let us pay for anything.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Suffering the most brutal hangover, in a week of foggy starts, we pulled our shit together, cleaned up the now unrecognisable food mess we had presumably purchased before retiring only a few hours before, and prepared to leave Los Angeles. We rented a car, packed up all our shit and hit the road for the California coast. The fresh sea breeze and coastal hillsides did much to mend the self inflicted mental wounds we sustained in the concrete jungle. Mile after mile of pristine coast line gobbled up by big business and wanky resorts the size of small towns, made me long for untouched New Zealand just a little, as we made our way down to the border to cross into Mexico.
Tumblr media
Los Angeles, city of angels, home of the dodgers and of course Mickey Mouse. Where the air is thick, the water dehydrates you, and the sun is always shining. Looking back however, the angels are dodgy at best, with soiled, scabbed wings, and yellowed nubs for teeth that chatter incessantly to drug induced apparitions, while constantly scratching at the imaginary worms crawling under their skin. I’m no stranger to colourful characters coming from one of the rougher parts of Auckland, and now living in a once notoriously sketchy area of Melbourne, but as we catch the bus to downtown LA to rustle up something to eat, it strikes me that there are an extraordinary amount of damaged individuals roaming the streets in the broad, unforgiving daylight. It takes more than the far off gaze of a few broken souls to deter my appetite, but as I stare into the vast void pooling behind those dead eyes, I have to ask myself, “who is to blame for all this misery?” And then it clicks, who else could it be? The only logical conclusion is as obvious as the track marks on the arms of its victims, we must of course blame the mouse! That’s not to say that I believe a 5 foot rodent wearing gloves and pants is responsible for all the hurt on the streets here, rather it is an effective symbol for the dream, or rather, lies that lead so many hopefuls to over extend and wind up facedown in the gutter. We are all told that if we work hard we can do anything. But this is not necessarily the truth. Do you really think a man (or women) wakes up one day with the burning desire to clear away other people’s trash. Most of us have to play with the hands we were dealt. But that’s a necessary evil in our world. Simply put, if we all got what we wanted out of life by following our dreams our filth would ultimately pile up in the streets and choke society to death. Some ones gotta pick up the trash. Hollywood makes its living packaging up the lie, the dream, and selling it off piece by piece for the price of an admission ticket. So like moths flying too close to the light bulb, the hopefuls come to ‘make it’ in tinsel town, but instead crash and burn, and wind up chatting to themselves on the 720 to downtown. Possibly also the apparent lack of an effective welfare and public mental health systems could be a large contributing factor, but it’s not as fun as taking a swipe at everyone’s favourite bipedal magic vermin.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
2 notes · View notes
batterymonster2021 · 5 years
Text
CHASE STOLE MY BEST FRIEND! Roblox #10: ESCAPE from SCHOOL OBBY! (FGTEEV Weird Roleplay)
New Post has been published on https://hititem.kr/chase-stole-my-best-friend-roblox-10-escape-from-school-obby-fgteev-weird-roleplay/
CHASE STOLE MY BEST FRIEND! Roblox #10: ESCAPE from SCHOOL OBBY! (FGTEEV Weird Roleplay)
Tumblr media
FGTV! Help me do there may be some bullies at my desk get for me up on their heads get him get him yeah good day guys what’s up its MCTV daddy and chase and we’re in tuition uh.. Who mentioned that. Why are you standing on my desk chase all right chase pay attention but we need to escape from college oh okay dude who is this man is that our teacher haha all right chase come on let’s comply with me i am gonna lead you we’re gonna go out of this study room we obtained to escape oh wait that’s external stop trying to kiss me chase the place, we can not get out of the door huh are man so how bowt in this study room oh, oh laptop classification maybe i will appear up instructions online.Scuse’ me sir used to be practically to make use of that . Are you able to get off of there exsuse me, sir i like trains i do not care Oh youtube k we gotta go on youtube okay, ok we have to search for easy methods to get away school. Adequate YouTube is not any good. What about Google, laptop, roblox, youtube, google. The excellent 4 locations to move on the computer. Let’s be exact fgtv youtube proper, Ya still none of this explains how we escape. A guide! A booklet! The place? You located a clue? It says I ought to go somewhere that is hidden. Oh you determined a e-book. Ok. Satisfactory. Let’s go to find somewhere that’s hidden let’s get out of here good day hello guys should you didn’t be aware of i am like the most wellknown child at college appear in any respect these humans all proper guys come on hear. Give up crowding around me i am gettin sweaty and i failed to put on deodorant and trying to go to a dance with Julie after university so hear we must break out tuition so i will be able to make it to the store get some new outfits all right let’s go i’m mad.Why are you mad let’s try and meet but let’s also what approach take it out to the Courtyard what does that mean if you’re mad you get to love press something huh I lat forty all i might regularly do this oh that’s my actual fate good that’s cool wait to peer my head and that i get it we’re gonna meet now but alright i’m so mad dude get out of right here i’m so mad i’m gonna be late for my date i don’t get out of this thinking college huh oh correct here the cracks whoa cool thank you acquired no shirt on what is that this factor we escaped from institution take a seat to be doing go by means of the cracks in a locker come on chase howdy are you following me yeah i’m ready for daddy hey man its educate guys in those preferred man in institution one no struggle good enough acquired it wit is someone harm Amy are not able to touch that watch up sure cannot go climb guys we gotta get it good ok I instance of the fellow in school I failed to look very coordinated I relatively simply do not know what i’m doing their ego takes me awhile to be taught things i am so wellknown i do not relatively have time to pay concentration who’s killing me are not able to one to leap did it now chase the place are you watching do not touch the blocks yes with the tremendous soar big challenge with the dream leap dude my college is acting all see I believe that is my take over there she said she loves me I didn’t put out the proprietor it’s letting you understand you still wish to go to the dance meet Julia bounce yeah Julia no do not run from me Julia died what where am I scared I did yeah we both escaped yeah yeah we escapes go now you gonna be with you yeah yeah come on cheese cheese do you’ve a day to grasp why do you wish to have to escape your mattress design you do not like dealing with the girl Oh which one there’s so lots of them i like the one in puppy what puppy the one in carpet yeah you could have a girlfriend who caught in carpet yeah so it’s variety of being one factor all your girlfriend’s name is carpet market yeah dude am i able to borrow his hot rod i wholly i’m gonna need this for my D all right Julia here I come going to select up julia she lives local we live in a quite small town i feel that is her condominium she has a butler her brother’s identify is a is Dominator excuse me mr.Dominator Butler have you ever visible Julia she’s upstairs k thanks man come on chase them in the house we’re going upstairs to seek out Julia Julia are you equipped i am here for my day Julia Julia see you upstairs do not consider whatever julia’s hair to ya oh howdy Julie i’m here to pick you up on a date i do not wish to go what i don’t even such as you you do not like me anymore I’ve ever what you do you like television beauty timber make me Tris mcnees julia says she wants to move on a date with you you at all times suppose like a pal I gotta get out of this out but thats it like you are on that I did all that work is it due to the fact that i didn’t put on the proprietor is let me jump to peer my kids to myself oh it is on account that i didn’t put out the order and teleport 2 winners sure i am a winner what is this super leap hall i would tremendous soar and that i could fly now quantity four that is no longer like tremendous leap to me well I received fired unhealthy grass pad just go pad developed pad lighting dangerous water dangerous sales space boy key keepers cross oh sure appear at this possibly i can win again Julia with my awesome strikes click on it we’d like all but juliana supply me that I get skateboard Julia Julia down here success i get skateboard now it can be a fab lean forward you bought your mobilephone meet you care well ok that’s it Julia you realize what i’m going to be with me i love your aid my fireplace Julius residences on hearth i’m sorry duenna just the teenagers crazy and out of control good good good good well oh I landed on high go down go to have we by means of happening the gala Julia continuously nonetheless like girlfriends believe possibly Superman making use of pre-okay other fourth grade i know all right Joe and why is so evil why you seem at me Julia used to be your day with g in finding some new pals i need Julia it can be generally going to be a buddy in this treehouse no fangs and there any person in right here Julie i’m going to depart me a number of seeking to get over you and all you do is you simply comply with me round besides getting out of here i’m jumping into this pit of lava is it love it’s typically no longer lovable up writing you to expense my motorcycle Julia you’re employed for builder brothers pizza mario luigi reset my personality mystery installed I had to get faraway from Julia she used to be so evil i made a brand new friend his name is will be he is gonna treat me better than Julia did now you wish to have to understand you just exhibit my female friend now you wish to have to find out how you can get a chicken just get far from me i’m flying around calling and it’s that after they ever i fell off the earth it goes my manner I simply wish to go up i am caught within the roots on there yes come again i go on top of here i’m gonna be like King Kong she know it’s no longer cheesy your different boyfriend haha that’s all i care is chase Julia look at you did this little one pygmy pay max to be my friend bags scale of 1 to 10 i’m feeling like a one proper now you help your attendees in foreign exchange currency trading every body whats up max what is what’s he doing again pal look at me i need to be associates will you be my friend will get lasering persons the college’s feeling ailing humans i am so angry you are disgusting thanks all now youngster backs is the most wellknown man here oh look an extra one thing but that you’re completed you flip the entire world against me Julie might we just speak Julia hear i do know there is quite a few people round us however I just I simply wish to speak to you I particularly like your automobile can consistently depart me by myself appear you made Julia leave now she’ll on no account talk 300 you come I got here and he or she said which is normally she stated she was once the submit of us comply with me guys if they follow me i’ll the moon going to the moon where I may to find true love wait nevermind there’s simplest man on they’ll a playground to lap are you in the market I acquired you a reward right here I received your present Julia so that you may you can also take me again right here have it and it you desired right here hello are we acquaintances once more I wait are you I suppose we are she likes me again chicks IPL good guys that is the worst day ever escaped from tuition however my coronary heart was broken and now there is there isn’t a one left to hang out with ordinary teacher you don’t even educate excellent you instructed me matters i learned final yr third grade very well teaching calculus or anything i go up taking place deep darkish gap excellent simply fob
Tumblr media
0 notes
myautisticpov · 7 years
Video
youtube
New review! I told you I was coming back from hiatus!
This time it’s AUTISM RUNS AWAY, the second book in the School Daze series.
Review Summary:
Overall Opinion: 4/5 Clarity of Autism: 5/5 Stereotype or Person: 2/5 Accurate Autism: 3/5 Storylines: 2/5 Respect 4/5 Total: 3/5
Script is below:
Continuing on with the School Daze series, can the second book live up to the first?
*Intro*
If you haven’t seen my review of the first book, I would recommend checking that out before continuing.
This second book continues to follow the character of the first, though there is a greater focus on Ben’s sister, Ellie, as well as a new teacher, Rob, and a new autistic child, Ethan.
It follows a lot of the same beats as the first book, with the opening even being almost identical, only with Ellie misunderstanding Rob’s teaching methods, instead of Ben misunderstanding Mel’s.
Overall Opinion
**** - Like the last book, it’s a reasonably enjoyable read. Though it definitely lacks the cohesion of the first book. The only arc that really gets resolved is the romance between Ellie and Rob, and there’s not the same resolution to Ethan’s arc that Kyle had in the last book. But more on that later.
Clarity of Autism
***** - Stated in the text.
Stereotype or Person
** - It’s time to talk about what I have been referring to as The Jeff Problem.
If you remember from the last book, Jeff is Mel’s adult autistic brother. In the first book, he was a very minor character who mostly gave Mel motivation for her career choice. He had no character development or arc. He was just there.
“But wait,” I hear you say. “Didn’t he get a job despite his parents wishes? Wasn’t that an arc?”
Yeah, but not for him. That was another arc for Mel and mostly dealt with Mel’s relationship with her parents.
The easiest way to figure out if a character has an arc is to ask “Can you identify their Disney Princess I Want song?” and do they make progress towards that goal?
Jeff doesn’t have any wants, according to the narrative. Mel asks him if he wants things to change, and he says things are fine.
Mel then takes matters into her own hands and pushes Jeff and gets him a job. Because she’s determined that that’s what’s best for him, and that’s what he really wants.
Now, Jeff was a side character in the first book, so I let this slide. After all, most side characters aren’t as well developed in most books. But the second book only continued this trend.
I swear, Jeff has less personality than a female character in a shonen manga. Or worse, a Michael Bay movie.
So, let’s break down my main problems here, because there are a few:
He's a walking teaching tool. Seriously, everything he does is a Teachable Moment, and it’s outright stated as such by the characters who interact with him. He does something quirky and they learn not to judge him. How Disney of them. I’ll come back to this in the respect portion. In the end, Jeff ends up lacking the nuance of actual adults with autism. He’s still making the kind of mistakes that most people grow out of. Especially those with Jeff’s history, which I’ll get to in a moment. Also, the allistic characters zone in on social mistakes so quickly. I get that the narrative wants to draw attention to Jeff’s autistic traits, but it shows. Most people don’t care that much about a stranger’s quirks. Not unless they’re coded as “insane”, where the first explanation would be mental illness or disability. Mostly they’re just ignored or easily explained away and they're not as frequent.
He's completely oblivious to how his parents treat him. Like, completely. Which is part of this quite outdated and harmful stereotype that autistic people don’t know when people around them are hurting them. To be honest, it’s quite easy to read Jeff’s parents as emotionally abusive. It would explain why they refuse to let him gain independence and why he’s so reluctant to rock the boat. It’s not that he doesn’t care about getting a job, it’s that he’s scared of the consequences. But the narrative has done nothing so far to support this, so it is firmly in the territory of a honeypot. Especially since this book avoids the topic if abusive parents like Superman avoids Kryptonite.
So, I get that this is a book for Autism Parents™ to educate them on how to do better. And the problem with Autism Parents™ is that dealing with them ends up being much like being a hostage negotiator.
Most people’s first instinct when the perp answers the phone would be to tell them to get fucked.
After all, they are a terrible piece of shit.
But no hostages are getting out alive in that situation.
Instead, hostage negotiators have to approach the situation from a place of empathy and compassion - not because the perp deserves it, but because that’s how you resolve the situation peacefully.
You know, without dead hostages.
But while I can appreciate this rationally, it doesn’t make that compassion easy to find for those of us who are triggered by the kind of abuse Autism Parents TM inflict upon their children.
All of it is, instead, being used up on the kids.
And therein lies the ultimate problem. We want the hostages out alive, but the optimal approach doesn’t take long to emotionally crush us.
Which is one of the reasons why it took me so long to finish this book. The attitude was that all parents love their children and therefore aren’t capable of emotional abuse. There was one particular line where the teachers reassure a group of parents by saying that children are forgiving and will understand their mistakes.
And don’t get wrong, that’s an important message for non-abusive parents. And even abusive parents need to be gently brought around if they’re hearing this in a voluntary situation. But there’s no bringing them around here. It’s just “don’t worry, everyone makes mistakes”. Which… Yeah, I get why it’s like this, but it’s horrifically common for parents of disabled kids to be abusive. I know that this book is meant for those who aren’t, but a lot of the rhetoric seems like it would just be giving abusive parents a free pass if they read it because it is incredibly sympathetic towards parents whose actions hurt their kids, with very little regard to the psychological trauma that it can cause. Yeah, kids are resilient, but only so much. There is a reason why Jeff’s lack of anxiety as an adult is unbelievable. Speaking of...
Jeff’s autism informs everything about his character, and nothing else does. This is most obvious in the complete lack of comorbid conditions, most notably anxiety. Like, Jeff’s parents’ behaviour, in refusing to let him pursue independence, is explained by Jeff having been bullied by his boss at his first job. Which… explains his parents behaviour, but not his? Seriously? But no. No sign of anxiety. Like, at all. Not even at a work environment. Or around strangers. Yeah, I don’t buy it. That’s not how that works.
He sounds like Drax the Destroyer. Seriously. Which, again back to the anxiety thing, is a problem because our pov in the Jeff chapters is a complete stranger to Jeff. That’s not how that works. You don’t just openly admit “I don’t understand the phrase you just used” to a stranger. It paints a target on your back for bullying, which Jeff would know because we are told that he has had experience with that kind of bullying in the workplace. You nod, you work out the meaning from context, or you just make vague non-committal noises and hope that they weren’t asking you something important.
Asperger's - it's a defunct label and shouldn't be used so heavily. Like, Jeff corrects people who say that he has autism. And here’s the thing, the main difference between the labels is always touted as “did you speak before you were three?” but once you’re an adult, that’s bull. It’s largely “can you pass as NT or not?” Which Jeff clearly can’t. So why it’s used so heavily and insisted upon is beyond me, besides good old ableism. “I’m not like those other autistics.” I would cut it slack in other books for realism (because a lot of people do cling to Asperger’s out of internalised ableism), but this book is meant to be an educational tool, so no slack here. Especially not when that internalised ableism is never addressed.
In the end, Jeff isn’t a character. He seems more like a patchwork of different stories about autistic people, but put together in a way that doesn’t make sense. He’s all anecdote, and no substance. Just a collection of Teachable Moments. Just like taking a baseball bat with the word autism written on it and bashing you over the head with it. Metaphor. Seriously, Sheldon Cooper has more going on beneath his inane catchphrases. Sheldon mother-flipping Cooper.
Accurate Autism
*** - would be 2 stars if it was just Jeff, and it honestly just scraped three. There is a single scene in this book that saves it from complete annihilation by my internet reviewer powers. This scene is told from Ethan’s point of view.
I’ve spent so much of this review going on about Jeff, I haven’t even really talked about Ethan. But that’s not without reason. Ellie and Rob are the two main pov characters in this book, and they’re both very secondary figures in Ethan’s life. Rob is his teacher, and Ellie met his mum once at her bakery? As such, we’re missing the same narrative cohesion regarding Ethan that we got with Kyle and Ben.
So, as the title of the book suggests, Ethan has a problem with running away when meltdowns loom. We’ll get to the narrative arc of this more in the storylines section, but for this section it’s enough to say that in the final chapters, there is a scene from Ethan’s point of view where he runs away for the final time in the book.
This scene is really well written. It avoids the usual “autism voice” that is so, so common for autistic point of views in books. It also does a really good job of explaining things from Ethan’s point of view.
This scene is the only thing saving this section from a two star rating.
Storylines
** - They’re barely treated as human and just there to further other people’s plots.
Jeff and Ethan don't have arcs. They're there as teaching tools for the other characters.
So, I said I was going to talk about Ethan’s narrative arc here. The thing is, it’s not Ethan’s arc. It’s his teacher’s and his mother’s. It’s about his mother learning not to worry to the point of making things worse for her son, and yet even this barely has any resolution.
The arc is basically that Ethan runs away when he reaches the point of meltdown and his previous school couldn’t deal with it. They kept calling his mother, and his mother is always terrified that something is going to happen to him.
But now he’s at the school from the first book, only a year up from Mel’s class, since time has passed since the first book. His teacher is a new introduction in this book, Rob.
Rob uses his experience to help Ethan’s mother run through tactics to help avoid Ethan running away and he works to get her more at ease with Ethan being at school and visiting friends and stuff.
But that’s it.
I mean, that’s literally it. He tells her what to do, she makes some attempts, but doesn’t quite manage it.
And then Ethan runs in front of a car and Rob is injured saving him.
That… What?
I mean, I have seriously thought over this, and I can’t possibly see the resolution to Ethan’s arc. In fact, this end point should be the “all is lost” moment. The only thing that gets resolved is the romance between Rob and Ellie.
The only possible angle I think the author was going for was the fact that Rob wasn’t angry and didn’t blame Ethan? And kind of disapproved of Ethan’s parents being hard on the kid about it. But he just showed it by firmly stating that it wasn’t Ethan’s fault. Yeah, that’s not going to do anything in that situation.
Like, I came away at the end just terrified for Ethan. Especially when his dad seemed complete devoid of understanding about his son’s behaviour. Just embarrassment and anger.
That’s just… Nope. All I can picture is Ethan hiding in his room without dinner, and having all of his special interest things taken away, doing everything he can to remain silent to avoid verbal abuse from his father.
From the information given by the author, I literally cannot imagine any other ending to this scenario.
But even without that imagined resolution, the resolution we’re given is weak, and not really about Ethan as much as it’s about his parents and Rob.
Respect
**** - Pretty decent, but there are some slip-ups
While the books do well with conscious shows of respect, the subconscious ones can be just as powerful in imparting lessons.
How well can the “treat autistic people like people” lesson be imparted when the story doesn't treat autistic characters as characters. They have no arcs or character development. Allistic characters have that, but autistic ones don't.
I think the unsaid lessons can be just as powerful - if not more so - than the said lessons.
AUTISM RUNS AWAY reveals some of the inherent problems of this approach to educating people about autism. It doesn't replace a textbook, and it's not education through good representation.
Is there room for this kind of education? Maybe. But it's not a question I think I’ll be ready to answer until I look back on the series as a whole.
Overall, AUTISM RUNS AWAY gets three stars. It’s not necessarily bad representation it’s certainly shallow. Hopefully the series will pick up from here.
7 notes · View notes