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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 6 years

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No Place Like Home💜

Dedicated to @marvelpotterlove 💜 Thank you for commissioning me and trusting me with your fic. This was a five part series, but I extended it. Basically broke the final chapter in half. Reader is a single real estate agent in Cali. There will be fluff and mild drama. Word Count: 2,338

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Part Five: Boiling Point

"Girl. I don't understand how you're related to those haters, but you'd better get out before they drag you down. They ugly, petty, got bad weave, and they evil, child! I'll be damned if I see you come back with a fucked up closure or damaged leave out all because them city bumpkins can't take!" Ang is right, the fam is toxic and annoying, and they keep trying you but as much as you complain you can't just make yourself drop them.. they're your family.

"They are complete messes, yes, but they're still blood, Ang. Unfortunately, it's thicker than water."

"That's not how the full phrase goes, it's a dangerous misinterpretation," Erik interjects. He's been lying on the bottom bunk with you, chillin. "The actual phrase is 'The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.' You're more tightly bound to the family you choose than the family you're assigned at birth. So in essence... Cut them bitches off and level up."

"Is that restaurant boy?! I wanna see him, I haven't laid eyes on him yet. Let me facetime. Can he hear me?"

"No, he c-"

"Yes, I can hear you," he cuts in again and you have to wonder now what else he's heard. Probably a lot more than you care to think about or unpack. She FaceTimes and you angle the phone at Erik. He salutes with two fingers and her voice goes up what sounds like ten octaves.

"Ok! You are cuuuuteee!" Her grin is so wide showing all her perfect teeth. His answering smile is lazy and sweet, his lids floating shut with long lashes on display.

"Cute? Sis, I'm a grown ass man."

"You right, Sir. You fine as hell. Damn. Y/N? Damn. I know you better, hmmm.. Girl!"

"She did," Erik blurts causing your heart rate to spike. You smack him in the arm to shut him up. The screen angle changes and you're suddenly staring at the seat cushion of Ang's car. Her grinning face eventually comes back into view.

"BITCH! Are you two a thing now, or? Because this needs to happen. Here I am expecting you to look depressed and you're there thriving. Look at you all boo'd up."

"We're not a thing. He was just helping me.. de-stress."

"Righhht... His dick just happened to slip inside of you for therapeutic purposes," Ang's angular brow rose in faux judgement.

"Aight but tell her about the bachelorette party," Erik interjected. Your deep sigh gave away the nature of the story.

"What they do," Ang demanded to know, protective as ever.

---

Screams mingled with a loud masculine voice in the living room, "Get down! All of you! On the floor!" Instantly you and cousin Shaquel dropped to the floor behind the counter, silent and out of sight, listening. Your heart heaved in your chest. "Looks like you women were having a party," a second man's voice yells. "All you need is the.. Strippers!" In unison they yelled and the women's fear turned into loud hoops and aggressive cheers.

"Damn.. I dropped my cheesestick," Shaquel groaned kissing her teeth. You were just glad they were strippers and not robbers. Heading into the living room, you found a space in the audience and sipped on your third canned soda of the night. Jamila's future in-laws were long gone. Mom and Aunt Iris were gone. That one was probably for the best. Looking at the strippers, only one was cute. The cute one was chocolate with small dark eyes are bow shaped lips. He was cut but still thick and a bit stocky. The way he danced, he was working hard for his coin. The other guy couldn't really dance so much as grind and thrust, but the cute one was putting on a show. 'When We' by Tank came on and he killed that dance like he was auditioning for the next Step Up movie. You took a few dollars from your pocket to throw out of respect. That man was working.

"I know you ain't thirsting over a stripper when you got that delectable piece of ass you don't near deserve. I'll never understand that one," Jamira said cutting her eyes. Why she was staring at you, you didn't know. It was actually hilarious because here she was engaged and still flirting with your man in front of you. You were tempted to tell her about herself.

"Jamira, I've been real patient with you.. Don't try me right now."

"Or what? My nigga you mad 'cause I'm right. That nigga too cute for yo ugl'ass. Die mad."

"Jamira? Turn around and enjoy your strippers," you cautioned, "I'm over here minding my business."

"If you wanted to watch the stripper, you'd watch the stripper, but you running ya mouth. Obviously you got some shit to say!" The party was shifting, the animosity growing. Jamira was drunk and starting to really speak her mind. A bridesmaid came to her side, rubbing her arm to calm her but she snatched away, clapping to emphasize her words. "Nah, this fatass bitch always wanna sit back and judge some shit like she somebody important and she ain't, but she think cuz she got a little money or whatever she better than us."

Whoah, never had you uttered those words and if you ever thought ill of them, it all stemmed from the way they treated you. You'd never dare to treat anyone the way these folks treated you and they called themselves your family? The disrespect was real. "I don't know what gave you that impression, but I never disrespected any of you guys. That's something unique to you, mom, and Aunt Iris." Jamira couldn't hear nor was she listening, she just kept yelling and it was obvious she was trying to find a way to hurt you with her words. It was what the family did best, lash out.

"She just a stuck-up, nappy-ass nobody trying to be special in Cali and I hope that pretty ass nigga runs right over through her ass because she ain't shit and ain't gone be shit.. and that's what the fuck I got to say." She collapsed into the sofa and commanded the attention to return to the strippers with an aggressive hand gesture. Immediately, the onlookers refocused on the dancers unwilling to piss off the bride-to-be.

Part of you said drop it and let her have it, but the part of you that had grown stronger and stronger since arriving back in New York told you to stand firm. You'd let Jamira, your mom, and your aunt 'have it' way too many times over the years and honestly you were beyond fed up.

"If I'm stuck up, Jamira, I deserve to be. I work for everything I got and I do it well. This nappy ass hair? It's healthy, it's thick, it's strong, and it's long." You flipped your pressed inches. "..Just like my man's dick and no matter how many times you come onto him like a cheap prom date from Hell, you will never get it."

"That's what you think? Heh. Watch me. I'll be sitting on his face before you leave town," Jamira replied boldly. No one in the room knew what to do, but watch the spat. The strippers stopped moving, unsure of whether to continue.

"No. You watch yourself because the next time you say or do something trifling to me I'll really embarrass you," you pointed willing to take it there.

"Bitch, you can't do a damn thing," Jamira snapped jumping up. She stood inches away looking as if she was ready to swing and she was inching closer like she was about to.

"If you want to get married with a black eye, touch me. I beat your ass in high school I can do it again--"

"NO! ..No. We not doing this. Jamira, sit down! Y/N? Just leave, okay? Nothing against you, but leave," Shaquel waved toward the door and without a glance backward, you exited stage left. You were still heated. Once outside, you had to call an uber. All this ubering made you wish you never came back to New York in the first place. It was pricey. After standing outside for fifteen minutes, a car finally came to take you back to the house.

"Why you back here, ain't you supposed to be at the bachelor party," India said letting you in. Obviously, you'd interrupted her slumber. She yawned loudly. Erik must've been upstairs in the room. "I got sleepy and decided to turn in early," you lied. "Bullshit. I heard you was out causing problems," she sighed accusingly. Instead of responding, you headed for the stairs.

"Don't walk away from me in my house, get your ass back here and answer me," India croaked. "Why you out here causing problems with my daughter like you ain't got no damn sense?"

"Did you know your daughter tried to sleep with my boyfriend?" He may have been a fake boyfriend, but she didn't know that!

"Hmph," India scoffed with a slight smirk, "That's what ya ass get for parading him. If ya'll so tight, why you worried?"

"You know what mom? I let a lot of things go and I shut my mouth and maybe that's why y'all think I'm some doormat, but I'm done holding my tongue.."

"Child please, save the dramatics for Cali. We're all adults in this house. If you bold enough to say something, say it!"

"I'm not doing this tonight," you sighed knowing a whole guilt trip was coming. "I'm going to bed."

"You going to bed.. hmph. I carried you for nine months and then I carried you and your sister until you were eighteen, but you going to bed. Must feel good to be spoiled with all this damn freedom. Leaving whenever the hell you please. Hell, I wanted to sleep but you done woke my ass up knocking on my damn door! The sacrifices I made for this family, I did to keep us together and then your lil raggedy fast ass wanna run to California and rub elbows with the rich and famous like we ain't shit. If anything you need to look inside yaself and get that straight. You're ungrateful and you're selfish. Your daddy was a selfish deadbeat and you turned out just like his ass, despite my teaching. I was your mother and your father.. and you just gone leave across the country? What about us?"

"I sent you guys money and I visited, but how often do you expect me to visit when every time I come all you do is tell me I'm ugly, I'm fat, I'm selfish, I'll never get a man. Every time I come here you do anything you to try to break me down. Since I was fifteen! That's all you've done! Of course I don't wanna be around that!"

"You just can't take criticism. You never could. Just like ya big-headed daddy. I hope to God you have a kid one day. I do. One who will ruin your damn life and expose to you just how selfish you are so you can see!"

"Goodnight," you waved dismissively walking to the stairs. She kept talking as you ascended, but you tuned her out. Everything but the threat.

"Be at the wedding rehearsal tomorrow. Grown heifer. And I swear if you mess things up we're gonna have a real problem."

Without a response, you turned the corner spotting Erik. He was standing in the hall, listening. He stretched out his arms and you walked into them resting your head against his chest. You stayed like that for a while before the two of you went back to the room. You were so over this wedding, India, and Jamila.

"You finally snapped," Erik said staring at you in awe. You'd wanted to do that for so long and you still didn't say what you could've said, but as irritated as you were it felt good to talk back. It was obvious he was trying not to say too much, but it looked like he had lot to say.

"You should've heard me at the the bachelorette party," you offered and his eyes begged for more information. You recounted the whole night from the time he left up to the point where you almost fought your sister at her own party.

"What would you say if we didn't go to the wedding," you asked trying to figure out your next move. Erik shrugged, leaving the decision in your hands. "I'll do whatever you want. I'm here for you," he stressed. Hm. You could go to the wedding like planned, suck it up and then disappear right back to Cali. You could pack up and leave the house right now to stay at a hotel. You could even go back downstairs to say how you really felt. The options were limitless. You decided to think on it longer. In fact, you'd sleep on it. Decide tomorrow.

"You need some head to clear your mind?" Erik smirked. He'd been watching you brainstorm. It was an interesting offer, an option you hadn't considered. "Get some head, go to sleep, and whatever you choose to do in the morning, I'll roll with it," he suggested. It was a solid plan.

"Okay... but I need to work off some of this tension and negative energy so let me suck your dick instead."

He jerked back slightly in surprise, "Who said we can't do both? But I'm going first."

"Who's this supposed to be for, me or you," you teased feeling lighter already. There was something about his energy that could lift a person out of any cloud of negativity. It was like he'd been through so much personally, he could relate to anything. His presence was a miracle and a blessing.

---

"So I interrupted y'alls little sinfest," Ang smiled. Throughout the story her expression had changed more times than Kanye's allegiance. She was on an emotional rollercoaster and you knew she was right there with you in all that you were saying. "Don't go," she said firmly. "Leave those chickenheads where they are and check into a hotel. I will finance it myself, just leave." She was so serious. She never liked the fam, especially Jamira. The white couch incident was still clear in her mind.

"I'm going to sleep and then I'm going to make a decision tomorrow. I'll keep you updated."

"Alrighty. Well you two kids have fun and 'de-stress'," Ang said with air quotes. She couldn't stop smiling, though it was slight, you knew your friend and from the bottom of her heart she believed you and Erik were together or about to become an item. To be honest, it would be nice. He presence alone did so much for your mood and he was so wise and considerate. You needed him around in your daily life to keep you emotionally and mentally stable. After signing off with Ang, you curled up with Erik behind you on the lower bunk and went to sleep.

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movingkeepmoving · 5 years

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Sofía, Bulgaria - June 2019 🇧🇬

The second last day of my journey was ready to start. It started once more early but not as early as intended to at first. My original plan included a coach trip from Thessaloniki to Sofía, but as lucky as I was on this trip, I got adopted by two fellow fans who invited me on their ride on a more comfortable car. While I did know tiny bits of Greek, I didn't know a single thing about Bulgaria. Well, not 100% true - I knew they're part of the European Union, they don't have the Euro and they use the Cyrillic alphabet. That's it. I didn't know they were not part of Schengen and I also didn't know a single thing about their fascinating long history.

Once being dropped of in Sofía, I fell in love with the city. Its different, it's full of history - you can tell by just walking around for five minutes - and it's super green and full of parks. I head to my hostel, ring the bell and after a couple of minutes an old lady appears, telling me in broken English there's something wrong with my room and hands me a phone. The man on the other end explains me that they have anogher building down the road, the woman will bring me there, and they will upgrade my single hostel room to a studio for the same price. Alright?!? I follow her and we have a nice and brief talk in English. I tell her I'm from Germany and it's my first time in Bulgaria, I'm here for a concert, but not to play myself - to watch a band. She's charming and welcoming as she's trying her best in communicating with me.

She drops me off with her colleague at the studio house. This new woman doesn't speak any English, so she hands me her telephone and I talk to the guy I talked before. We discuss the final details and then I have a super huge studio with a kitchen and sofa and a large bed all for myself. I charge my batteries, check the nearby restaurants and download the local Taxi App. It works like Beat in Greece, you can pay via credit card and so you don't have to withdraw too much money from the next ATM. I'm craving something fresh and healthy so I get late lunch at a close by fusion restaurant that serves an amazing poke bowl. As I have a full day left for sightseeing, I decide to head down early for the venue. I'm totally on my own this time and you never know how crazy the Bulgarian folks are about gigs. On my way getting there I have the best and cutest old taxi driver you can imagine. She talks English, shows me some sights of the city while passing them, tells me to definitely use the app after the show to not get scammed by another cab driver as the venue is in a students area and he hands me a tourist info in English about the most famous sights. He also changes the radio station to the rock channel once I told him about my plans for the evening and in just that moment, the gig gets announced on the station and Dropkick Murphys are played on the radio...

Boy, was I wrong about the audience. Nobody shows up until 30 minutes before door. The first person I get in contact with is G. from the UK. He tells me he came down as DKM and FT are his favourite artists. Well once more - I'm not alone at a Frank Turner gig and I guess I never will. Doors open, and about 6 people head into the venue, an ice hockey stadium. Once the six of us are in, nothing happens for an hour. I walk around, get me a coke and water and some caramel popcorn as apperently this is what you can buy at a gig in Sofia. Franks set is moved back by 20 minutes and once he enters the stage there are some hundred people inside the venue while the rest is still out front smoking. (For the first time of this tour, the promoter made actually sure that nobody is smoking indoors! It's a blessing!)

Once more some Frank Turner fans gather around close to the front. I can hear them singing both on my left and my right side, which makes me smile like a nutter and sing even louder. It's once more utterly insane to whitnes Franks first gig in Bulgaria. I guess it's pretty hard regarding the size of the venue and the small amount of people who do know him. But it doesn't stop him. No, he tries even harder, chats his bits through the Bulgarian language and he even managed to sing "Eulogy" in it. It's like his magic trick, everytime he does that, the crowds starts to respect him a tiny bit more. He tells the crowd how crazy it is for him to finally play a show in Bulgaria and says its pretty special to him as he wrote his university dissertation about British-Bulgarian relationships. This evening I sing extra loud during "I still believe" - as it somehow became the song of my trip to the East. I would never had thought that I would travel all the way down to Greece to see my favourite artist opening up for an American band. Well in the end I travelled to those places and the shows were the red cherry on top of doing the trip.

Sofia was finally the gig where I was able to witness a FULL Dropkick Murphys gig. I got me a seat on the side and enjoyed the non smoking environment. From the very first start about 2700 people went nuts. While looking around I saw so many happy faces and I once more realised how lucky I am living in Berlin with 5-10 gigs every day. These people had to wait more than 20 years to see Dropkick Murphys play in their city - in their country. And the guys from Massachusetts showed them what Punkrock was about. At one point singer Ken stopped the band as he saw someone in the crowd doing Nazi salutes. Ken was all about to jump into the crowd and fight that guy. Everything happened at the other side of the room, I didn't see anything besides a raging singer. But in this moment Ken earned a lot of respect from my end.

Luckily the show was ready to continue and I wandered a bit around until a friend of the band invited me to come up sidestage to become part of the final stage invasion of my tour. I've been side stage for many shows in my life, but to see this wild and happy crowd from up there made my heart jump with joy. It was beautiful and being part of the stage invasion some minutes later felt absolutely unreal. Do you know this feeling when you just think you're dreaming? That was me, dancing and singing around on a stage in Sofía, Bulgaria. Even when I look back to it now, I can not really believe this did actually happen to me.

Sometimes life is full of big surprises and I'm still so happy I decided to do this trip when all my fellow gig buddies said they wouldn't join. Traveling and going to my gigs on my very own made me learn a lot about myself but also a lot about those foreign countries and their people who react differently to you if you actually interact with them. When you're travelling in a group you tend to keep to yourself and turn around to keep chatting in your group conversation. This wasn't possible for me, I had to get in contact with people and I loved it! One more day in Sofia ahead...

#traveling #always on tour #solotravel #frank turner #fthc #Sofia #Bulgaria #Bulgarien #Dropkick Murphys #Dkm

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chronicbatfictioner · 6 years

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Theater of the Soul - Chapter 6

They'd spoken in tongues around him, he'd heard. None of them knew that he understood them.

"<You crazy enough to take the boy away from him, you bastard, then you should be crazy enough to eliminate him!>"

He hadn't recognized the voice. But the language was Hispanic - a learned language, not a street- or birth-earned language. He'd suspected a white, upper-class somebody being there other than... than the horror that is the clown. He had not heard the reply, only that it was followed by a lot of loud noises. Ugly, loud noises. The last time he had heard those kind of noises, cops were later seen leaving the apartment next to his after taping the door with bright yellow ribbons.

And then he was leaving. He'd had no idea where to, or how. Just that he was leaving. Leaving all the noises behind.

And there was a lot of blood in his line of sight. Only he wasn't sure if it was his line of sight or his own eyes. Maybe it had been him bleeding. Maybe he'd caused the bleeding, he couldn't be sure. He knew there were others - warm, soft bodies.

And then everything was cold and chilly again. There was so much pain, too. And he'd kept moving. Somehow, his brain had told him to keep moving, ignore the pain and just keep moving. That keep moving would be his best bet to survive.

Barbara's friends were... scary ladies, if anyone would ask Tim. Fortunately, no one would ask. And they looked... well, Dinah Lance and Helena Bertinelli looked like they'd just walked out of 'The Gladiator' movie set - almost complete with Roman gladiator garb. They were both tall, and even if Tim's brain said that Barbara would've been just as tall if not for her wheelchair, the two ladies still looked imposing to him.

The three of them, Tim thought, looked very colorful - with Barbara's flaming red hair and fair skin, Dinah Lance's platinum blonde hair and peachy-tan skin, and Helena Bertinelli's jet black hair and dark chocolate skin.

And yes, he did not hide his surprise well when Helena said that she was a primary school teacher. "Does that mean I'll have to call you Miss Bertinelli?" he asked, only half joking because he did feel like he was still in Primary School.

Helena was glaring at him, and Tim hoped that she would at least be amused.

"You're... what? Ninth grader?" she asked.

Tim frowned. "I've graduated high school last year." he scowled. Yes, he was small even for 15. But he still has time to get some much-needed growth spurts, surely. Like one or two - or a dozen.

She looked surprised. "Well! A genius, Barbara? Who'da thunk it." she smirked.

"I would. His grandpa was Jeremiah Galavan." Barbara said, almost smugly. "The guy who almost singlehandedly built the wastewater treatment plant in Gotham. Even when everyone was laughing at him. I'm not surprised that Tim has his brain."

"Here I am thinking that Bruce would only take people with high theatrical aptitude." Dinah Lance said.

"My parents were stage actors." Tim told her. "That's how I know Bruce. They... left me in his custody when they died."

"That's nice of them..." Helena quipped. "So close in the heels of..." then she paused.

"He didn't take me in to replace Jason!" Tim snarled. "I was officially adopted before Jason left!"

"He never take anyone to replace anybody," Dinah said, practically calming him. "Bruce takes orphaned children because of his own deep need to make sure you won't be lost in the system. Like some of his..." she paused and meet his gaze, "... earlier acquaintances." she finished. Tim suddenly got the thought that by 'acquaintances', she had meant herself.

"Matter at hand, ladies." Barbara reminded them.

"I'll go with the little genius bird." Helena stated, her voice sounded challenging.

Tim just sighed. He was not in the mood for arguing. It was already past 10.30 and he felt that they would be kind of wasting time if they were to argue on who rides with who. "Whatever." he said. "Can we go now? The addresses were arranged by location, anyway, and we've got some solid 33 thousand square miles to cover." he cringed inwardly, suddenly thinking just how small Gotham City suddenly felt.

"Relax, kiddo. We'll find him." Dinah patted his shoulder gently. "Bruce should've..." and she pressed her lips, willing herself not to say anything more.

"I don't disagree, Bruce should've asked for help back then. But that door is closed already. Now we move on." Barbara didn't snap, but her tone implied so. "We will find Jason. Even if it means knocking every damn door in the whole county of Los Angeles."

"Babs and I can start at the north side, from here onward to Antelope Valley areas." Dinah said. "You take the beaches?"

"Will do." Helena said.

"It's not like my wheelchair would be bothered with the beaches, you know." Barbara cocked her eyebrow at them. Her wheelchair was specially made - lacking the back handles because she didn't like to be pushed by anyone else; and has reinforced all-terrain wheels.

"Nothing to do with your wheelchair, hun. Southward are usually populated with family ones. While northward are veterans and otherwise." Dinah replied calmly. "They see your wheelchair and they'll be more inclined to talk than otherwise."

"Psychological query." Tim acknowledged.

"Yes, little bird, you got that right." Dinah gave him a finger-gun salute. Tim almost grinned.

Their plan for today was to prowl the homeless areas, as well as stopping by at Napier-owned buildings or whatever property he has. Tim was a little proud that Barbara did not shot down his suspicion that the reason Bruce hadn't been able to find Jason right off the bat would have been because Napier had somehow hidden Jason somewhere. He was not at any hospitals back then, and the only record of him showed that he was checked out of LA General Hospital a week after he was admitted. Bruce had even pulled all the stops by asking a load of favors from his friends to ask if any of the private rehab centers and/or hospitals would have had Jason there - to no avail.

Hence, really, Tim's suspicion that Napier was not what he appeared to be. Not 'merely' a stage critic, but was hiding something else. When the Harley Quinn club opened a mere few months after Jason went missing - based on the date of the accident and his last known whereabout as he was signed out of the hospital, Tim's suspicion was vindicated.

And his suspicion lead him to poke around the internet and unternet - the dark side of the web - to find out who the hell this Napier guy really is. Said poking around also provided him with a list of assets belonging to Napier, mostly in Los Angeles County area - much to his relief; a small number in Gotham. Dick would poke around at the Gotham ones - excluding Quinn's club - with Barbara's father, James Gordon, in the guise of finding a place for himself. James Gordon, the city's Mayor, would be a good smokescreen - no pun intended for his smoking habit, really - to hide their true purpose.

Tim has to begrudgingly admitted - albeit inwardly - that explaining the general gist of things to Helena was easier now that he has had time to mull it over and brainstorm it with Barbara. They have barely gotten a block away from the Penthouse when Tim's presentation of his theory finished.

"So how is it a brainiac kid like you get roped to the ever-glamorous world of showbiz?" Helena asked. "Yeah, I get it that your folks were in it. But you could've gotten yourself a scholarship somewhere, MIT? Ivy? I mean, why stay?"

Tim fiddled with the camera on his lap. The camera would be their cover story - building Helena's portfolio at interesting locations, or having her pretend to be a reporter if all else fails. "Why should I?" he asked.

"Why should you what?"

"Why should I go for technical stuff just because I'm a genius?" he pressed. "Why can't I be in arts, just because I can work out how a supercomputer works, or how a robot can move and walk and talk at the same time? Why can't I be a painter, or singer, or photographer?"

There was a few good seconds' worth of silence following Tim's questions, and he knew he'd stumped Helena.

"You're right. I actually never thought of it that way." she finally admitted. "Most of the kids in my school are average. There are a few with above-average intelligence, and they all tend to lean toward sciences."

"They do that because through science - things that has absolute, numerical and alphabetical quantifier - because they can prove their intellects through it. How about languages? Did you know that the English language - while the second most spoken language in the world, has significantly less amount of words? As in, it has only one word that defined art: 'work'. Bengali language has five, Russian has four, Arabic has five. That, to me, is interesting. Would you like to know how I found that out?" Tim asked, almost coyly.

"Okay, I'll bite. How did you find that out?"

"Jason Todd told me. People tend to think him stupid, just because he was a street urchin and didn't get to be schooled to show his academic skills. But he speaks five languages fluently. All of which he'd learned on his own by reading the books at the library. Is he not a genius, then?"

"Ah," she nodded. "I get it. There are many types of genius, and the more visible ones are those with science-based aptitude."

"Yes, that should answer your question on why I'm not interested with scholarships. I don't need them to do what I love. And what I love is--" Tim suddenly clamped his mouth shut, realizing his true motive in doing this. It has nothing to do with what he loved to do - taking photographs, sharing the printed evidence of things he could easily pull out from his memories with vivid details. Not because he'd wanted to 'save' Jason. Not because he didn't want to see Bruce upset and stressed.

He wanted to do this so that he could earn his place within the Wayne family. He wanted to prove that Bruce taking him was not a mistake. So that Jason would stop being mad at him. So that Jason would come home.

Before Helena could finish her questioning, thankfully, they were approaching their first target location,

#Tim Drake #Jason Todd #Barbara Gordon #Dinah Lance #Helena Bertinelli #JayTim #SoulTheater!AU #no-capeAU #BatFam

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