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@deadravager
CONTACT HAS BEEN MADE
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of course he yells. no one with wilson as a last name has any idea how to not yell. she narrows her eye at him , head canting to the side slightly , before she slips the knife away , holding her hands up , palms towards him. she’s not a threat now , as far as he’s aware. no weapon in hand. she’d have taken him in that stance anyway , she still could. “ my name is rose , “ she starts , offering a small smile , gentle. “ rose wilson. “ the last name should ring a bell , she thinks. he probably doesn’t know her. why would he ? “ i’m here because i need a place to hide. just for a day. i found your address a while ago , but i didn’t want to intrude. “ so she broke in , instead. “ i can pay , i have money. just – hear me out. please ? “
wilson.
grant’s not sure what feelings that name brings him, but it’s nothing good. all his relatives are strange in one sense or another, and he’s not sure that he needs another one. his family is a mess, and this one looks like enough of a mess that she could almost be part of it. he stays in his stance, eyes still narrowed.
‘what is this? are you some - what, long lost relative? what are you hiding from? what the fuck?’ grant sighs. it’s not unreasonable, he still has clothes from his last ex hidden somewhere from when she stormed out and never came back, rose could take some, if she stayed. she’d have to pay rent, though.
‘how much money?’ he asks, eyes narrowed, because he’s broke as hell.
@deadravager
It was strange, meeting his own brother in secret. But thats just what needs to happen, sometimes. It was better than their only reunion being on the field as enemies. No, he wouldn’t allow it. Joey couldn’t let that be his only relationship with Grant be on opposite sides of battle lines.
A park was as good a place to meet as any. It afforded him the excuse to come alone; he often came here to think, or play his guitar. No one would question him going to the park out of the blue.
After waiting some time, Joey almost worried that Grant wouldn’t show. But eventually, he did, much to the younger Wilson’s relief. Lowering his instrument to his knees he motioned to the pair of cups beside him.
[I got us coffee. Yours might be a little cold, now.]
‘you still play guitar, huh?’ it sort of figures. they’d signed grant up for other kinds of lessons - sports, mostly, self defense because he enjoyed it. it’s helped him in his vigilante career, at least, though he doubts that guitar helped jo much.
well, jo doesn’t need help. he has powers. the real kind, not the ones that grant or slade or rose have.
grant shrugs. ‘still caffeine, right?’ it doesn’t affect him much, not with his metabolism. but it gives him a few moments of feeling a little more awake. to have it really work, he’d need several pills. hell, he’d need an injection.
‘so is this . . . about something?’ joey seems to like the titans well enough, the obnoxious do-gooder in him most likely rearing its head. but grant had trusted that he had more loyalty to family, even if he’s scanning the perimeter every few seconds. it seems like he must have been right.
not to be dramatic but grant is weirdly capable of turning into a serial killer . . . like slade
*coughs up blood but like in a sexy way* hey

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“ because you’re my family , you shit , whether you like it or not , ” hartley replies , rolling his eyes at little at grant’s stubborn nature but not arguing with him on the state of his brother . “ so , by extension , i give a shit what happens to joseph . because it affects you . ” he doesn’t go pulling out any L words , lest grant get annoying about that shit , but hart did acknowledge that he cares about grant .
ew .
he smiles a little at grant’s indignant answer , shaking his head a little before he replies , [ i know . ] making sure grant’s watching , hart signs again , [ you’re doing good . ] he’s not perfect or fluent , but the progress they make is worth praising , especially since it helps push grant to continue .
‘oh,’ grant says. ‘right.’ he doesn’t quite know what to say to that. he knows that the rogues are family, and that he is a part of it, now. it really feels like being a part of something - something bigger, something that MEANS something to him on a level that he’s not used to. this is his new family, even if the one that he left behind is still there. grant thinks that he will always be a wilson - there’s something about the name you can’t escape, no matter how hard you try. but he can be a rogue, too, and the fact of it almost surprises him.
‘joey’s . . . ‘ grant doesn’t quite know how to describe him. he needs to say something that will make sense to hartley. ‘he’s . . . nice.’ overly, in grant’s opinion. nothing wrong with throwing a few punches. it’s hard to really explain joey to hart, since grant himself hasn’t seen him in so long, and the only thing he really knows is that they’re different.
grant focuses once more on the signs. [ thank . . . you ] he says slowly, remembering the sign as best he can and hoping he did it right.
dc | siblings
@deadravager
Typically Mick claps shoulders hard and raises his voice to be heard through the house (and when he’s not wearing his own hearing aids), but he knows from the get go that he can’t do that shit with Grant. A father like he had, he’s gotta think harder before he reaches out to the kid.
So he doesn’t call him from the kitchen, and when he comes into the living room, he drop his hand onto his shoulder. Mick stands in line of sight and speaks up enough to be heard over the television at least, ❝ Grant. ❞
When he’s caught his attention, he nods sideways, towards the kitchen, ❝ Help me with dinner. ❞
grant startles when the hand lands on his shoulder, but when he spins to see mick he relaxes a little. ‘aw, c’mon, this is the best part.’
grant grumbles about it. he keeps the tv on so he can crane his neck back to get a look at the latest shitty sitcom that’s playing. it’s one of the old ones, one he remembers watching with joey at home, and grant very suddenly isn’t interested in thinking of home anymore. he has a new . . . place to stay, now. he can’t keep thinking of home, of pops and ma and joey.
‘what’s for dinner?’ grant gets up off the well-worn tv chair, wondering if he can sneak some from the kitchen, realizing abruptly that he’s hungry.
Slade Wilson in Titans ep.3
@deadravager SENT : “ everything tastes like blood, now. “ 「 ✦ 」 ── ჻ SOFT STARTERS.
「 ✦ 」 ── ჻ ❝ WHEN DOES IT NOT ?? ❞ the hiss of her katana being withdrawn from a body. the taste of copper in her mouth. the sight of all this brutal carnage. —–none of this should be comforting. but for her it is. violence is familiar to her. in the end, it’s all rose knows.
are monsters born or made ?? it’s a question rose has been adamant about not reflecting upon. but it seems damned near impossible as she’s grown older. she sees too much of their father in her. but rose isn’t some weak, self-vicitmizing kid that’s going to blame everything on daddy. rose chooses to hurt, to destroy, sometimes even to kill. the only thing rose can be sure of is that monsters exist && heroes don’t. like the titans. fuck them. just the mere thought of those manipulative, lying hypocrites causes the rage in her veins to burn.
❝ you need to catch your breath, or are you good ?? ❞
grant laughs. ‘i’m fine. this is fucking great.’ he has too much blood on him - some of it’s gotten into his mouth, but he thinks he might’ve bitten his lip anyways. maybe when he got clocked in the side. either way, grant can take it. he takes a step, and the blood goes everywhere. grant rolls his eyes. it’s going to be a pain to get this out of his costume.
killing seems natural, now. in the beginning it was awkward and strange and took time to get used to, but now it’s just . . . the way of things. grant wonders if that’s how slade feels, and he loathes himself for that. he’s nothing like slade; nothing like his father. this is justice. they’re on the right path, they’re going to get the titans back.
‘we’re gonna fucking end those losers, rosie.’ grant grins again, and this time his teeth are pink with blood. ‘they haven’t got a fucking chance.’

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“ i used to be a better person. “
soft sentence starters
grant leans against the wall of his apartment, a whole body of wine in his hand. it’s cheap wine, cheap as everything else - below his means, after all the money he’s saved up all these years. he eyes joey out of the corners of his, slightly dizzily. it feels almost fuzzy in this moment, the city lights streaming in through the windows from the darkness outside, and for a few seconds grant feels that he’s not in reality, and is instead in some detective story, figuring out the next case.
grant would be the protagonist, of course, because he’s the fuckup and joey’s the golden boy. he has it all - the alcohol, the hatred of his father, the handsome yet rugged physique. ‘feels like we all were,’ he tries. ‘you think pops was ever a better person?’ he eyes the wine in his hand with a smile and no mirth.
| ★ | ☆ | ★ | ☆ | ★ | ☆ |
ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴀ ᴄʟᴏɴᴇ. ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴀ ᴘ ʀ ᴏ ᴅ ᴜ ᴄ ᴛ. ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ʜɪᴍ.
sᴇᴍɪ-ɪɴᴅɪᴇ ᴀᴜ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇʀ ᴋᴇɴᴛ ʟᴜᴛʜᴏʀ.
“ and your pops is a killer , ” len answers , his eyes soft with concern as the kid seems to reel at the truth , “ one the rogues need to be a little more prepared for than we were today , which , again , grant , i’m sorry about . you shouldn’t have been forced to see him , and it shouldn’t have gone like that . ”
he sits back a little , a breath shuddering just slightly as it leaves him , thumb brushing against his septum piercing . “ the way he got up in your face reminded me a little too much of my own dear old dad , ” he admits , “ and i reacted badly because of it . and that’s on me . ” this isn’t something he’s explained to grant , in all his time here , not wanting to bring up things the kid clearly wasn’t ready to talk about , but it looks like the time is now .
len rolls his sleeves up past his elbows , revealing at least a dozen cigarette burns that still stand out on his skin , and many more scars that have lessened with time and age , still faintly overlapping . they’re marks he’s seen on grant , too , ones he knows the pain of intimately . “ i may not know everything he put you through , but i know enough . so i don’t give a damn who he is in costume - if you don’t want to go back to that man , you will never have to . ”
grant’s eyes flicks over the scars. he has the same ones on his arms, little puckered bits of skin, and he remembers the sharp pain all too well. len is offering to protect him from deathstroke, from his father, but for the first time len isn’t the most dangerous person in grant’s life. could he protect him? if he had to? against . . . deathstroke? he’d barely been provoked or interested. slade doesn’t want him back. maybe that’s the worst part. grant’s head is still light, hands still shaking, and it feels like it’s too much to take in.
‘s’fine,’ grant mumbles vaguely. he’s met him before. slade wasn’t going to do anything in front of everyone - right? he couldn’t have? if len’s dad was like slade, it would make sense that he hates him. it’s . . . strange, to have someone get angry at slade for grabbing at him. joey would beg grant not to fight back, and ma would roll her eyes at the whole thing. len seems to care. it’s a strange feeling. for so long it was just grant.
‘he doesn’t want me back, anyways,’ grant says, eyes cast anywhere else. this burns. maybe he thought that slade would come back, try to drag him back, but instead he leaves him with a bad taste in his mouth and shaking hands and a view of his back. he runs a hand through his hair, a relaxing motion, so he does it again, and again. what he really wants to do is put his head in his shaking hands and stay there for a long, long time. everyone can see him right here, sat on the grass, so he does his best to stumble to his feet.
‘deathstroke - slade - i can’t believe . . . fucking bastard.’
you can sleep with a gun
when are you gonna get up and FIGHT?
‘ touch the sun, my eyes wide open unbelieving ’
aka boyfriends at @windowedeyes / @31millionmoments / @multiloquently

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reblog if your muse has daddy issues, wants to beat up their dad or maybe just needs a hug
dads will see their kids and be like “is anyone gonna emotionally damage that” and not wait for an answer