[And you are a lithograph/Sketching my history]
[Under the floodlights you look more like god to me/You’re way too fucked up, you’re way too tough]
[Two shots of tequila to speed you up/And I guess what I’m trying to say here is thank you]
[But I go cold]
(Symbolism below the cut if you care!!)
[You are a lithograph]
Young Jason has a target on his back, showcasing how being Robin put him in danger. He was just a kid. He’s talking to Batman, looking up at him, showing how much he trusts him, all the while he has a glaring red target on his back.
[Sketching my history]
Jason’s memorial plaque with his shadow over it. The shadow has ‘history’ written on it to show how Jason has become history, how he is just a story now, he’s not even in charge of how he’s remembered. To quote Richard Siken, ‘history is a little man in a brown suit trying to define a room he is outside of. There are many names in history, but none of them are ours’. Jason is history. He’s not Robin anymore.
[under the floodlights you look more like god to me]
Silhouette of Batman with no eyes, to show how Bruce never really… saw/understood Jason. Jason died thinking that Bruce was this good man, the best man, who always knew what was right. A god. But there is no god to Jason, not anymore. The floodlights are turned off. Jason had to die to recognize the flaws of his father.
[You’re way too fucked up, you’re way too tough]
Half of adult Jason, half of young Jason. Jason can’t go back to who he was. He can’t go back to that little boy who was too tough for his age, who thought Robin gave him magic, who was so good that it hurt. Jason is way too fucked up, now. He came back wrong. Everyone thinks so.
[Two shots of tequila to speed you up]
Jason’s Red Hood mask, a crowbar, a batarang, and his old Robin mask. Two things from his new life, two things from his old. He can’t go back. He can only go forward.
[And I guess what I’m trying to say here is thank you]
Jason’s pointing a gun at his father, who still does not see him. But he cannot kill his father. No matter how many times Bruce fails him, Jason will never be able to take that shot, he will never be able to wipe away the only father he has ever had. Even if he has every opportunity, even if he wants to, he’ll never be able to kill Bruce.
[But I go cold]
Bruce covers the target on Jason’s back as the sun rises over Gotham. Because no matter how many times he fails Jason, he will always keep trying to protect him. Try to keep him intact. The night is dark and it will always be dark and no one will ever be able to wash away all the bad, but as long as the world keeps spinning, Bruce will love his children. Even if Jason doesn’t want the protection, Bruce will give it to him. This is their curse. The will never escape it.
I have some pretty. Insane thoughts about Jason and Bruce’s dynamic as a father and son. So. Yeah…….
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WARNING !! Contains spoilers for Lies of P! If you haven't beaten the game, be warned!
This is just a first draft !! I might change it... I might not. I'm just testing the waters and seeing how far I'll get. I think I'll just post the prologue for now and then proceed solo in google docs after. But I wanted to see how people are feeling about the idea ♡ I'll upload the rest most likely on AO3
A "I don't care what canon gave us, I'm bringing Romeo back" fic that'll end up in a romance between our favorite real boy and his bestie ♡ It takes place post-canon!
Prologue
The sun had barely risen when they set off on their mission, a gentle shower coating the city of Krat in sleek rain that took little time to drench every stone and tile. Only once they had reached their destination did the skies suddenly open, a hint of blue smiling down on the otherwise desolate buildings. One couldn’t avoid puddles under such conditions, but there wasn’t any true concern to be had over them.
There were far greater things to worry over. He only hoped they were still there.
“Jeepers. It sure is creepy being back here again.” Gemini chirped, effectively breaking the silence that blanketed Krat Central Station. “Now that the monsters aren’t as much of a problem, everything just feels kinda…” He trailed off, causing the boy’s head to turn just slightly in an effort to toss back a glance in the lamp’s direction. “... Spooky? Haunted is the word, maybe? Almost like something is hiding just around the corner, ready to just– Jump out at you!”
“You’re being dramatic.” Slender digits rose to tuck a long, grey lock behind an ear, palm rubbing a stray droplet of water from a freckled cheek.
“And you’re being careless, pal!” Gemini countered, ignoring the eye roll given in retaliation. “I’m just saying, even if we can’t see the monsters all around like we used to, I’m sure there’s bound to be some still lurking around! Just be more careful, okay, Carlo?”
There was a pause in his steps, the echo of the last dying out shortly after as nothing but the dripping of water and creaking of pipes met their ears.
Carlo… it was still strange, hearing that name, and while he felt it was just right, it felt strange in the same breath. It was familiar yet foreign; He was still learning.
He felt his heart beat.
“Did I say something wrong?” Came Gemini’s chirps once more, the sound coming off as one of concern. Carlo shook his head, lashes fluttering rapidly as he came back to himself whilst lips tugged into a slight smile.
“No, no. Sorry, just… Thinking.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie. Gemini seemed to accept the excuse regardless, trilling gently in a way that Carlo could just picture a real cricket practically vibrating with eagerness.
“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go! Er– b-but! … Y’know!... Carefully.” The guide seemed to beam, and Carlo couldn’t help but beam right back, hopeful that their journey would be fruitful in the end.
There, in the dimly lit station, was their target. Track C, train number three– The Blue Fairy. It was funny, looking back on it now, but there was no stopping to admire any form of happenstance. The train itself had been subjected to all manner of bile and questionable fluids, but otherwise, remained intact. The boy hesitated just before entering, hand rising to touch the door frame as he stood at the entrance and listened. When nothing but silence rose to greet him, he pressed onward, stepping over forgotten luggages and shattered glass.
“You really think something like this’ll work?” Gemini spoke again, chirps blending with the crunching of a wineglass underfoot.
There was no immediate response, not until they had made it to the back of the train where a familiar chair sat in the middle of the aisle. He stepped around it, choosing instead, to make his way into the hidden workshop behind.
“I don’t know.” Carlo confessed, fingers trailing across abandoned notes and papers left atop a messy desk. Blueprints were among the litter, notes bookmarking heavily written pages of journals, their fine leather covers worn and frayed. He gathered it all, leaving nothing he deemed important behind. One of many discarded suitcases was chosen among the piles, and with its original contents discarded, was used to house the very legacy his father had left behind. “But I have to try.”
Venigni thumbed through the blueprints, eyes roaming through Geppetto's old notes that had been laid out before him. It was a daunting task, to say the least, and they both knew it.
"This is... beyond my field of expertise."
The moment of silence to follow after felt far too long, seconds seemingly to stretch into hours that didn't exist. Finally, the boy's lips parted, voice heavy with newly gained emotion that unashamedly manifested as a beg.
"I believe you can do it." Came the quiet encouragement, brows drawing together to further accentuate his plea. "Please?" Yet another pause followed after whilst muted blues fell for but a moment, until finally, they resettled on Venigni. "For... a friend?"
The sigh of defeat to follow the request said enough.
"I shall do what I can, but I make no promises, compagno!" As if a switch was flipped, suddenly a black gloved hand rose with a snap. “Pulcinella! Some fresh parchment, if you would! I must get started immediately! And you!” Once more did the man’s head snap in Carlo’s direction, a finger dramatically being pointed all the while. “You still carry the most important component, do you not? All that’s left is the body– Go and bring it back here. I will give it my all, for I am the Incredible Lorenzini Venigni, and I will settle for no less than my one-hundred percent!... But again, no promises.”
The emotion to grip at his heart was almost overwhelming, the heavy THUD THUD of the organ pounding against his chest in a mixture of anticipation, joy, and above all else, hope.
“I’ll be back.” He announced with a nod, though he made no move to leave just yet. Instead, he gave the man a smile, brighter than any he had expressed in the past. “Thank you, Venigni. I appreciate your help.” The words were met with a nod and something akin to that of a mutter and a hum. Already was the other absorbed by the notes before him, ink meeting paper in rapid scribbles from the very moment Pulcinella had provided the writing tools.
“Let’s go get your pal… pal!” Gemini chimed in, spurring the boy into motion with a nod. “Leave the technical stuff to the professionals! Rosa Isabella Street awaits!” A trip that would surely be a bit more eventful than their visit to the train station, knowing full well that the puppets would still be prowling around their fallen king’s domain.
Please let this work… The silent prayer was sent skyward.
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