Apparently I Write Things

It's not that Tim didn't find Ivy attractive. Let's be real. Who wouldn't? She's a bombshell in a leaf bodice. After years of following the Gotham Rogues on the news, and reading every study he could find on every single one of them, the one he absolutely didn't want to run into was Poison Ivy. I mean, let's be real. He's a fourteen years old pubesent boy. She wouldn't even need to use that weird plant-drugged lipstick of her to make him to whatever she wanted, he's hecking do it anyways. So after becoming Robin, a dream come true let's be real, he was beyond anxious for the day he would inevitably run into the eco-terrorist; give him Joker any day.[8:52 PM]Alas, that day finally came. He was perched outside her latest greenhouse - a warehouse she'd turned into a tropical paradise - waiting for the signal from Batman to lunge into action, secretly hoping it would never com----- oh dammit. There it was. 

The Robin braced himself before shooting out a grappling gun, hooking it around a pipe along the roof, and swinging into action. Unfortunately, plans never seemed to work... Well.... They way we planned.... Huh.... Cause the second his boots scrapped the concrete slab, his knees bending to account for the pressure of the landing, he was hit in the face with a puff one pink, sparkly pollen - the kind you see in cartoons, not in real life - and boy of boy, y'all, Tim got a big ol' whiff of it. 

Immediately he started coughing, falling to his knees at the spores settled in his sinuses, and clogged his throat.[8:52 PM]"Silly boy. You really think you could get a jump on me like that?" Ivy snickered, twirling curly locks of red hair between her fingers, her other arm crossed underner her chest, which only helped push her C-cups higher. Somewhere in the distance, Batman yelled for his sidekick, as Ivy approached the red, yellow, and green clad teen. 

Now, her plan was probably to  make Tim her mind controlled minion - we all know the drill - but the second she pressed a finger to the teens chin, tilting his head up to her to lay that cursed kiss on him.... The boy let out the biggest, snot-filled sneeze in the world. 

"A-----CHOOOO!" Robin fell back down to the group, still coughing and groaning as sneeze after sneeze burned his nostrils. 

While Ivy should have been studdened, and rightfully disgusted, she was moreso baffled by the absolute mess of a boy at her feet. "What the----" 

"B--" Tim sneezed into his gauntlets. "B, I'm dying." 

"Is this a trick?" Ivy narrowed her eyes. "That plan was perfectly harmless. The order may be strong, but there's nothing poisonous about it." 

"Baaaaatmaa---CHOO!" 

Poison Ivy tapped the toe of her high heels against the Robin's thigh. "Is this one broken or something?" 

"B---- my---" He coughed, reaching out a hand dramatically towards his mentor, as if he were a soldier about to be left behind in the trenches. "My---- my epipen---" 

"....Excuse you?" 

Chapter 2: ... You’re Frustrated

(Read Ch1)

Just shut up!” Robin chucked a batarang with full force, the weapon barely passing by Nightwing’s head before striking the cave wall behind him, the blade wedging itself into the stone. The young teen was seething, anger flowing off of him as he glared at his older brother through his mask. 

The outburst had drawn the attention of the others in the cave as well. Cassandra and Duke, who had been enjoying post-mission snacks, paused mid-cucumber sandwich to turn their heads. Even Alfred, who had been passing around a tray of much needed coffee, halted what he was doing, more likely than not to avoid becoming the victim of a runaway blade. The only person who didn’t turn was Bruce ー of freaking course he didn’t ー who was inputting notes into the mission file at the main computer. 

Dick raised his hands in defence. “Woah there. Damian, calm downー” 

“No!” The thirteen year old ripped his mask off, before slamming it to the ground. “I didn’t do anything wrong! You know I didn’t. They know I didn’t!” He gestured towards the other member of Batman Incorporated, this sorry excuse for a family. “So why the hell can’t you just admit I did a good today?”

“There’s always room to improve, Damiaー”

“Improve, my ass!” He grit his teeth together. This was ridiculous. It had been a simple mission; pop into a warehouse, beat up some drug smugglers, turn them in to the proper authorities. Easy fucking peasy. He's gone, he followed orders perfectly. He didn't step out of line, didn't cross boundaries, even when it would have been so easy to. He was a perfect Robin today. Which meant this absurd lecture he was getting right now was not only out of line, but downright insulting. "What more could you possibly want from me, Grayson? I did everything you asked tonight, with zero complaints, and a miniscule margin of error. Just admit that I did good, and leave me alone!"

"Damian, it's not that simple."

"Like hell it is!" The teen snarled. He tore his gauntlets off his arms, throwing them both to the ground. Maybe it would prove a point. Maybe not. That was unimportant at this moment. Damian glared up, meeting his brother's eyes with a scowl on his face, before deciding this wasn't worth it. He knew he was in the right. "Forget this."

He didn't bother to stick around when Dick called after him. He didn't bother to see if his father was reacting in any way. Damian just left. He stormed out of the cave, as seemed to be the routine, fuming from the ears as he all but crashed his feet through the oak floorboards of the manor. Part of him secretly hoped he'd run into another one of his adoptive siblings so he could pick a fight. God, that's what he needed right now. He needed a fight. He needed to hit something; to smash something. He needed to grab his sword and turn every shrub and tree on this blasted estate into wood chips. Instead, Damian settled for slamming his bedroom door shut.

"Aaaaaaarg!" He let out a scream, and paced around the space. Part of his uniform rapidly flying all over the carpet, landing in random pieces of furniture, before he was left in nothing but his underwear. While the burst of anger hadn't exactly calmed him down, slipping into silk pajamas helped. Only slightly, but help was help. "Stupid Grayson." He muttered under his breath as he flung himself onto that king-sized bed. 

This sucked. 

Contrary to popular belief, Damian didn't like being angry all the time. It was exhausting. The chronic issue was that other people were simply infuriating, always catching his temper, setting him off in all the worst says. He was sick of it. 

By chance, be it out of a need for comfort, or the desire for a better way to breathe than face shoved into an overstuffed down pillow, the fourteen year old turned his head to the side, letting his eyes scan across his room; over furniture, his own art on the walls, until it eventually landed on his desk. More specifically, a colorful wooden box that was kept neatly tucked into the back corner of his desk. 

No. No it was stupid. There’s no way this could help…

Damian pushed himself up off his bed. This was ridiculous. He stepped over his desk, pulling the box closer to the edge and flicking the clasp open. He opened the lid and started flipping through the pile of letters his friend had left for him. 

Angry? No.

Crying? Definitely not.

Offended, embarrassed, hurt.

He didn’t know why he was even bothering, because there was truly no way there would be a letter forー

‘Open When… You’re frustrated’

Huh… That was unexpected. 

Damian took the letter and went back over to his bed, climbing into it and making himself comfortable before cutting the envelope open.

A quarantine inspired self-isolation Wonderette fic

“Welp...  This is just… Great.” The sarcasm was laced thick in Cassie’s voice as she flopped back onto her bed. She’d landed on one of her pigtails ー something anyone with longer hair can vouch is less than comfortable ー so she lifted a hand, jammed it under her head, and yoinked out the ties unceremoniously. Her hair was getting way too long. She really should just shop it all off again. Of course… That would have to wait.

“Yeah. No duh.” The other teen in the room was none other than Cissie King-Jones, Olympic superstar by day, nerd-brain student by night ever since quitting the whole Arrowette gig. “But hey. At least we’re together.”

Why did things suck? Why was it good to be together? Why were there three suitcases stacked up on top of each other in the corner of the room, one of which was currently being opened to reveal a mess of beauty products, and more moisturizers than a Costco aisle? Well, unless you’ve been in a coma since February, you’ve seen that little business on the news about Covid-19, A.K.A the Coronavirus, A.K.A the Boomer Killer. Long story short, the world was going to the shitter because of this pandemic circulating the globe, with world leaders reacting by forcing massive quarantines, especially in major cities. Museums, school, restaurants, stores… All sorts of places were closing down.

You might have noticed that little mention about schools closing. Yeah, not just a few schools here and there, but every school. Not only did this include Cassie’s standard public school, but it also hit Cissie’s oh-so-fancy all girl’s boarding school, which consequently had shut down all it’s dormitory buildings. Rather than going back home, where the archer just knew she was going to go nuts if she spent more than a day locked up with her mother, Cassie extended the invitation for her girlfriend to come stay with her.

In the immortal words of a misquoted Vine:

Oh my god they were quarantine mates.

Cassie shifted up on her elbows as she watched the blonde across from her unpack. “Did you manage to get everything before you had to leave?”

“Mostly.” The other girl pulled out a violet elastic headband, tugging it down over her head, and letting it dangle around her neck as she adjusted her long hair, before pulling the band up to hold the locks out of her face. “Wasn’t able to grab things like posters or trophies.”

“Ah yes. Because where would you be without your trophies.” 

“Devastated, clearly.” The next thing to emerge from the suitcase was ー and y’all, I can not stress enough how ridiculous this crap is ー a large shag throw pillow, patterned in pink, purple, and aqua diamonds. 

“Ok, you didn’t grab your olympic gold, but you grabbed that.” Cassie couldn’t help but snort. She would have probably laughed longer, except for the same offensive cushion suddenly colliding with her face. Perfect aim.

“You’re the one that got me that, you idiot!” Even though it very well could have been a stern yell, nothing could hide the dumbstruck smile on the other girl’s face.

“No way. I got you this?” The Wondergirl held the pillow up, pretending to examine it. Of course she remembered getting it. It was the worst anniversary gift in the world, but for some reason her weirdo girlfriend was really into this kind of stuff.

“Yes, and you know I sleep with it every night.” There was a pause as Cissie looked around the small bedroom. “Speaking of, you got a sleeping bag somewhere around here? Air mattress maybe?”

Cassie tipped her head to the side, tucking the pillow into her chest so she could lean her chin into the fluff. “Why would we need a sleeping bag?”

The other teen made eye contact, a perfectly threaded brow quirking up. “So I can sleep?”

“But…” She let a pout fall on her lips. Cissie loved it when she pouted. It always got her everything she wanted. “I thought we could just… you know… share my bed.”

Cissie let out a snort, combing her fingers through her hair. “Mmmm. As nice as that sounds, that’s not social distancing. We gotta stay CDC compliant.”

The amazonian huffed, puffing her cheeks out. “Oh come on. You and I both know we’re fine.” She patted the space on the mattress next to her. 

“Mmmmm. Nope.” With a popped ‘p’, Cissie turned back to her things, organizing her box of nail polishes instead of paying attention to whatever her partner was doing. 

“Cissie.” She practically whined as she dropped the shag pillow, pushed up from the bed, and went over to grab the other girl by the arm. It was all playful, more so like a cat bothering her owner for attention than anything. “Come on. We haven’t gotten to cuddle in forever.”

Apparently this girl thought she was hilarious, because she kept that way too pretty, quirky smile on her face, as she let Cassie incessantly try and pull her up. “I hope you washed your hands for the recommended twenty seconds.”

“God you’re the worst.” Cassie rolled her eyes, before leaning down, tucking her arms underneath Cissie’s armpits ー it wasn’t exactly cute but it worked ー and lifting her girlfriend to her feet. Having superstrength definitely paid off sometimes. 

“But babe,” A laugh was bubbling out of Cissie. Even though the archer was taller by an inch or two, she tended to lean on her hip when she stood, bringing her down to her partner’s level anyways. Regardless, they were both at the perfect heights for long, slender arms to drape over broad shoulders, wrapping around Cassie’s neck. “We have to stay six feet apart.”

“Screw that.” Cassie leaned in for a quick kiss, which Cissie thankfully let her take. Neither could help but smile as they pushed into each other. Even when it ended, they stayed close, remaining in a loose and lazy hug, foreheads leaning together, until Cassie tipped in once more and placed a soft kiss to her partner’s cheek. “Missed ya.”

“I missed you too.” Cissie rubbed the tips of their noses together. “I was kidding about the CDC stuff.”

“I know that, you goof.”

“Good.” The girl nodded, stealing a kiss for herself. “Because I miss being your little spoon.”

Chapter 1: ... I leave you alone

The box appeared seemingly out of nowhere. 

One day, after spending too much time frustratedly thrusting every sharp object he could get his hands on into any training dummy he could find, Damian finally retreated up to his bedroom, drenched in sweat and desperately needing a shower. His plan was to dump his athletic wear on the floor, leaving a trail of clothes across the floor, leading to his ensuite. Instead, as he kicked the heavy wooden door shut behind him, hands cross, grasping at the hem of his Under Armour tank top, his eyes caught a glimpse of something on his desk that was definitely not there when he’d left. 

A scowl grew on his face. He hated surprises. He especially hated them when he was already in a bad mood to begin with. Yet here he was, face to face with a… box. A weird, random, wood box that was clearly homemade, seeing as the hinges on the back were screwed in completely unevenly. It was unfinished, pine laying completely exposed to the elements, save for blue paint smeared across the lid, and a poorly done cartoonesque heart taking up space in the top left corner. Underneath, thick black sharpie scrawled out the words ‘Open When’. Damian’s eyes narrowed at the writing. He’d recognize that chicken scratch anywhere:

Jon.

Thus bringing him to why he was upset in the first place. Now, Damian Al Ghul Wayne understood the necessity to train better than more. He regularly preached discipline, and the obligation of other vigilante types to commit themselves to constant practice…. That didn’t mean he was pleased to see Jon leave.

That was the issue. His comrade, his partner, the one individual he dared to call a friend, just up-skipped and left for some sort of training exercise. There were several very large issues with this, the primary being that Damian had not been informed of this. How rude could you be? After nearly two years of devotion and teamwork, and this damned corncob couldn’t even be bothered to say goodbye? Obviously there was just no possible way he could, gee, I don’t know, need that stupid kryptonian hybrid? He couldn’t possibly have planned the majority of his group tactics on the presence of an eleven year old power house? Truly, this was just so inconsiderate. The second most prominent issue the young Wayne had with this, was that Jon hadn’t just gone into the mountains for a week. No, it wasn’t a simple trip to Smallville, consisting primarily of stacking hay bales, and building barns. No. Not at all. No, Jon had to go on an indefinite expedition in outer space.

So yeah. Damian was a tad pissed off. Never in all thirteen, nearly fourteen years of his life, would he ever have left the planet without sending out a memo to his teammates. 

The teen looked down at the box again and snarled. “Open when? Open when, what, Kent?” With a click of his tongue, he practically snatched the clasp that held the box shut, harshly flicking it open to see what could possibly be so important, that a shitty, oh-so-mysterious box would appear in his room. 

Damian didn’t know what he had been expecting, truly, but he knew he wasn’t expecting… This.

Despite the box being approximately eight by eight by six inches ー twenty by twenty by twelve centimeters would be a more accurate measurement ー it seemed almost bigger on the inside, as it lay before him, absolutely filled with… envelopes?

Cards, letters of various different sizes and colors were stacked on top of each other in no particular order. Perplexed, Damian picked the stack up, filing through them and reading what had been written on the front. Firmly pasted in the top left corner of each envelope, without fail, were the words “Open When…”, while the center, which would normally contain some kind of address, seemed to complete the sentence.

Open When…

You’re angry

You’re upset

You’re sad

You can’t sleep at night

You feel alone

You’re frustrated

A mission goes wrong

You need a confidence boost

The list went on, each handling a different subject matter. Damian counted fifty letters total.

This… This was absurd. How dare Jonathan leave such rubbish behind for him? What kind of stupid, sentimental garbage was this? That idiot should know better than to believe Damian was anything less thanー

Open When… I leave you alone

...That’s not fair.

Damian tugged open the top drawer of his desk, removing a pair of scissors. He held them open before using the blade to cleanly open the letter, leaving the others to rest in the box. 

He’d expected simple lined paper, low and behold, that’s exactly what he got. Three hole-punched, loose leaf paper tri-folded and stuffed into an envelope. How classy. Damian unfolded the note with a sigh. This could only be so good.