batman needs robin.

this is a private + highly selective multimuse for the robins ( tim drake, jason todd, dick grayson, damian wayne, cassandra cain and stephanie brown ), and the superboys ( conner kent and jon kent ).  mature themes will be present. mun + muse are 21+.  trigger warning for: vulgar language, blood / gore / violence / death.

              i will not follow back if muns age is not stated somewhere on the blog/doc!

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He may have loved Bruce like a son, but perhaps it was that most fatherly of abilities to pick out the faults in one’s children - blood-related or otherwise. That wasn’t to say that Alfred considered himself perfect, of course, but there was probably something to be said about his willingness to pick up the slack of all the poor or absent fathers in his charges’ lives. With any luck, he hoped, that ‘something’ was positive.

“Do you want me to let you in on a secret?” reassurance seemingly only worked in proverbial bites; the baby-food-treated-like-an-airplane before the lustre wore off and Jason was allowed to lapse back into the chewing-the-mouthful-of-gross-puree of self-loathing. Hand remains on the young man’s shoulder, once again a very pointed gesture when the butler meets the other’s glassy eyes. “All the ‘what-ifs’ do is hurt, Jason. Beyond a certain point, there’s nothing to be gained from continually over-analysing one’s actions.

“How many years do you think I spent concerning myself with what I could’ve done to prevent Bruce from being orphaned, hm? Perhaps I should’ve picked them up at the front of the theatre. Perhaps I should’ve suggested dinner beforehand, rather than after, in the hope that they would’ve been the second group to walk down that alleyway that evening, burdened by the weight of a hearty meal.” He pauses, then, and forces back his own lump in the back of his throat. “You’re not who you were or what you’ve done, I’m sure you can agree with that sentiment. Who you are now may not be who you are in a week’s time. Your best is ever-changing, Jason, and I don’t believe it in anyone’s best interest to suggest that your best isn’t good enough.” 

Jason wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but this was not it. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was about Alfred, but Jason trusted him almost implicitly which was rare for him. Something about the old butler’s presence had been a comfort for the vigilante for as long as he could remember. It was an anchor holding him in place, keeping him from bolting or losing himself to the storm in his head.

Jason’s eyes squeezed shut as Alfred spoke, trying his best to hold back the tears. Of course, he was right. All the what-if’s did was hurt. “They’re all I have Alfred,” he said softly. “The what-ifs keep me up at night. They keep pushing me to be better, to do better.” To be worthy of the second chance he was given.

If he hadn’t been paying such close attention, Jason wouldn’t have noticed the hitch in Alfred’s voice. Maybe that was what finally broke the dam. A tear slid down Jason’s cheek before he had a chance to stop it, eyes focused intently on the wall in front of him. This time, he didn’t try to stop them. He blinked rapidly, allowing them to fall freely. 

“It’s an inside joke, buddy, don’t worry about it,” between Wade and whom, exactly, will go very pointedly unsaid, though. God help Tim if Jason found out just who had been the reckless soul to allow Wade into their lives.

He’s quickly thrown aside the very valid confusion on Jason’s query for something more… gay. “Tall, Dark and Brooding? Suits you, but not as well as Death Virgin, from what I’ve heard.” Did he say gay? He meant instigating. “And, I mean, throw a cowboy hat on you and that’d be close enough to that yeehaw game, right?”

Death Virgin? A frown momentarily creases his features. “You been talking to Grayson?” No. No it was probably one of the other kids. Morons. “I know I haven’t died as many times as your ancient ass but that doesn’t make me a virgin.” 

Jason’s face travels the spectrum of reactions before it settles on mild curiousity. He’s heard a lot about Wade from other people, but never had the pleasure of meeting him. His head tilts to the side as he tries to figure out which Robin’s ass he’s going to kick for this before he speaks.

“I thought you were going to go for Tall, Dark and Brooding but I’ll take it,” he quipped. “Your crispy....what now?”

“Only once? So what I’m hearing is that he’s still a death virgin compared to, say, me?” Virginity is a social construct, Wade, you can’t apply it to something like death. “But no, yeah, definitely gotta meet the guy. He sounds great. Probably. I dunno, sounds like a kindred spirit on the guns and killing front, if not the dicks and pizza front like you.”

“Jason’s the broody one, right?” A sharp inhale, stopping just short of devolving into a wolf-whistle, “Is he brooding because he’s secretly packing three dicks, or is it unrelated? Actually, no, don’t tell me, I’ll ask him myself when I meet him.” (threatening)

“When it comes to pizza, yes. Goes right to my hips. Ruins my svelte figure.” A rather pointed chomp into a slice, a proud smile, if a touch saddened, “When it comes to dicks? I draw a limit at 3 at once.”

“Grab a handful,” your innuendo game is on point today, Wade, “Or two. I don’t judge. Just leave the tip for me ‘cause it’s the crispiest.”

“That’s what I thought, bird brain.” A beat. “Can I interest you in some-” dick “-phallic pride pizza?”

“Happy pride month. I hope this pizza that’s shaped like a dick fully encapsulates the vibe of the season. Bone apple teeth, or whatever.” 

Being caught off-guard wasn’t something that happened. It just wasn’t. If circumstances changed, if plans went wrong, if shit hit the fan? Yelena, in true Widow fashion, adapted. There was no time for ‘oh shit’ moments. That begged the question - and trust her, she was begging the question - as to why Cassie’s casual reminder had caused every rational thought in the blonde’s head to come to a screeching halt. She blinks. Once. Twice. A third time just so her brain can catch up to what’s just been laid out on the table.

No, you definitely heard her right, Yelena. The word ‘kiss’ was in there alongside ‘you’ and ‘me’.

And then she’s chuckling. Laughing, even, at the absurdity of it all. Well, normalcy, maybe, to most well-adjusted folks. Completely out of left field for her. “You’re- you’re sure?” the self-deprecating part of her needs the assurance again, the go-ahead to give in to the itch in the tips of her fingers, the desire to weave them into Cassie’s hair, to indulge in the meeting of lips. Oh… oh, now she really does want to kiss her. “You want me to?”

@biirdbrains​ sent:  ❛ you can kiss me, you know. ❜ ( yelena & cassie ) & subtle smut

Of all the reactions Cassie expected, this was the last one. A wide grin spreads across her features, leaning to rest her elbows on the counter's edge. Brown eyes lift to meet Yelena’s. sparkling with mischief she usually reserves for her siblings. Her head tilts to the side as Yelena starts to laugh and she shrugs, hands resting behind her head.

“Yeah. You, kiss me.” Her voice is soft as if she doesn’t use it often. Which she doesn’t.  It’s rare that Cassie speaks to anyone outside of her family. Her expression shifts, softening a little as she watched Yelena for a moment longer. “I want you to. If you want.” She’s calm on the outside, save the small blush creeping its way up her neck, while her stomach twists into knots.