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bakerstreet2023-01-14 08:38 pm
fleurmortelle) wrote in bakerstreet2023-01-14 08:38 pm
Entry tags:
JAN WA
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② include a word of your choice and optionally the definition in the body of your comment. -- visit the random word generator if you need help! ③ other characters will reply with the first word their character associates with the one you chose. ④ continue back and forth until one of you just has to know the story behind an answer. |
no subject
they really, really don't even think back to Jason's words, huh. there's no self reflection there. no thought about thinking outside of themselves.
Nothing really hated Jason, didn't they. that's what this has to be. there's no other explanation for the way they're thinking about him. the way they're going about everything now. Jason would be floored if he knew.
maybe it's pathetic of him, but he still would have tried to help. he still would have gotten those art supplies, even knowing Nothing hated him, because he felt something there. something between them. he can't forget that, even with how fucking shitty Nothing had been to him... has been to him the past few days.
Jason pushes himself too. he gets hurt, he gets injured, he keeps going, much like they all do. Batman does the same, pushing himself to the brink. Jason's pretty sure he should sit the next night out, but they can't. there's a lot going on in the Narrows. he tries to stay as alert as he possibly can, cause Bruce and Nothing don't seem like they're at the top of their game. he covers for them and jumps in without a second thought when compensation needs to be made. that's just what they do. it's survival, it's helping the city. it's Batman and Robin and Nothing, apparently, even though they won't say a word to him.
he's not surprised to see the sticky note with the message on it, along with the supplies. it twists inside of him either way (much like Nothing is twisting everything Jason said to turn themselves into even more of a martyr) but he won't let the hurt get to his heart. not even this is ok. nothing he does is ever good enough, ever ok. it's fine. everything's fine. he's so goddamn lonely. it's fine.
(Nothing has food of course, Bruce makes sure of that every single day since working with them, same as those medical supplies he's working with.)
Jason is so tired, on the verge of tears when he walks past Nothing bandaging up their ankle in the Batcave. he stops, torn between wanting to help, but remembering the note and the supplies, and how fucking unwanted he is. he has proof of this by Nothing's actions, unlike whatever the fuck is going on in Nothing's head.
and yet again, Jason can't seem to walk away. of course he can't. he rubs at his tired eyes, letting out a soft sigh before coming over. there's no silence here, tense or otherwise. ]
I know you don't want me here, but I can probably help with that. If anything, I can get it done faster so Bruce doesn't see.
no subject
There is no point to thinking through words and resolving interpersonal issues when there's only one person here. Eventually, the same magic that gives Nothing its' powers will completely destroy its' body. That's what happens when eldritch magic is introduced to a human body without any intervention on the eldritch being's part, and the source of Nothing's powers doesn't have any investment in keeping it alive. Seeing it break down is fun for him, entertaining, even. He laughed at the idea like a child about to see a good movie unfold. Nothing isn't sure how much sand is left in that hourglass, how long it will get to try to do something to save people. What it does know is that there's no time for personal connections or personal feelings or personal relationships. Every second spent selfishly talking to someone else is one second less devoted to helping others.
It wonders sometimes if Bruce will turn the corpse it leaves behind over to its' former family. It hopes not. If what's happening to parts of Nothing's body already is any indicator, the results will not be anything anyone wants to look at.
Eating is a struggle when in work mode. Caffeine pills and energy drinks are better in terms of space taken up and return on investment. Bruce has tried to engage Nothing in fragments of conversation. Something is wrong, though, something inside Nothing's mind has broken and isn't clicking back into place. There's no more chitchat about the neighborhood Nothing guards or the people it knows. No more moments where Nothing answers with something approaching friendly neutrality. Now everything is cordial and to the point, distant. Be of use and then be out of the way. Stop talking. You only ever make things worse. Just stop making things worse for once.
Nothing blinks up at Jason. Was the time he seemed okay with it even real? Was that an embellishment made up by Nothing's mind as magic continued to warp its' grip on sanity? It's hard to imagine that anyone could ever have willingly touched it for reasons unrelated to work. It stares at him. Want? A concept cannot want anything. However, having this fixed would make returning to work easier.
It removes the poorly-applied bandage and nods, too tired to even come up with something to say, polite, rude or otherwise. Sometimes it genuinely can't even remember what being well-rested felt like. Nothing thinks about trying to explain the state of its' body, but there's no explanation that wouldn't just turn into a monologue and a long story is the opposite of what either of them have the energy for. So it just lets the reality of its' disfigurement sink in.
The skin from Nothing's knees on down and elbows on down is black as pitch, not a naturally occurring shade but something caused by magic. The first hints of it started in the center of the hands and feet, then spread over the last four years, slowly but surely. The color is so dark it absorbs light entirely, swallows it up, even as tiny flecks catch the light. Bruising on it shows up as a lighter color rather than a darker one. Nothing holds out the bandage to Jason with hands equally dark, ungloved in order to ensure sufficient precision movement, for all the good that's done it.
Somewhere out there, there is an amateur superhero with the same encroaching coloration in crimson, who is also African-American, who also knows French and plays piano. No one has ever put the dots together. Nothing has never let anyone see its' skin and given anyone the chance to realize its shares a power source and family of origin with the Crimson Condor. And since Batman saw Nothing's skin prior to the rot really setting in, he doesn't have the dots to put together in the first place. Even detectives can't operate without clues.]
I apologize for inconveniencing you like this. Imposing was not the goal, here.
[God, it's tired. And hot. Hopefully that's not a sign of infection, although with the luck it's been having, that's not out of the question.]
no subject
if the smallest inconvenience sets them off like this, then it was never going to work out with Jason anyway. he's far more complex than this black and white world that Nothing wants to squeeze themselves into.
Jason is passionate to his core.
Nothing won't be the first or last person who hates him for it, though.
he comes over when Nothing actually nods, shoving down his surprise. if he can help, that's good. he's on Nothing's side. ]
It's cool. I was just...
[he starts, then stops. Nothing doesn't give a shit what he was doing, so he just shakes his head and sits down in front of them, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his arm again before taking the bandage from them and looking at their hands, their leg. pitch black, but oddly so. Jason doesn't know what to make of it.]
I'm gonna touch you now, is that ok?
[he asks before he even starts, wanting to make sure. he remembers. he knows. he understands, even if Nothing doesn't think he does.]
no subject
Nothing doesn't hate Jason. But people and things are fundamentally different in ways that render them incompatible. There's no salvaging that. He deserves to be with someone. That's just not something that should be compromised on.
Everything is better this way. Everyone is happier this way. And this way, it won't hurt anyone when Nothing dies, either from magic overuse, violent removal of magic, or from its' brother striking it down before it can tattle on him to Batman. If Batman knew Crimson Condor is getting his power via continual murder, he'd be on the case in a heartbeat. Right now, the game plan is to try and find the artifact that gave them both their powers and destroy it. Burn them both down, take them both out in one shot, instead of letting things escalate into an all-out violent confrontation that could kill others en masse.
Everything is better this way. Everything is fine. Everything is going according to plan.
It mistakes the trailing off for Jason catching sight of its' skin, and instinctively draws shadows down around the exposed skin to obscure it for a moment before sighing and resigning itself to letting its' disgusting discoloration be seen.]
Go ahead. I apologize for how it looks. If I take a pumice stone to all of it I can regrow normal skin, but it doesn't last more than a few days before it ends up like this again, so I usually don't bother.
[The one thing that will prompt Nothing to talk, even in the depths of a mental health episode? Sheer disgust for itself. Unfortunately, there's no way to do this without Jason having to come into contact with that, and worse, he has to touch the off-grey and silvery bruised patch, which is arguably the least human-looking bit. The fever Nothing's been running doesn't make anything more appealing.]
no subject
if Jason had more details, he'd try to help too. he's getting to be a much better detective than anyone thinks.
at first it seems like Nothing might not want Jason to touch him, so he doesn't, waiting for the ok. he takes it slow- in his movements, in his touches. he can be a shithead most of the time, but the way he touches others is always with great care. he knows what it's like to feel nothing but pain in touches. he doesn't ever want that for anyone else.
he doubts Nothing gives a shit about that either. Jason's pretty sure he's nothing in Nothing's eyes at this point. ]
It's ok. You never have to apologize for what you look like. It doesn't bother me.
[Jason takes note of the different colors, only so he can properly wrap Nothing's leg. even with different shades and contrasts, he can tell bruising and swelling, and where to start the wrappings and twist them around to be the most effective. he's seen this all his life.
the swelling is bad, but Jason's not sure if Nothing will let him do anything more to help than this, so he wants to be efficient with what he can do, wrapping it expertly, nice and slow.]
When I was little, I wanted to fly. I wanted to go up and up into the stars and the black of night.
no subject
The thing that calls himself a god, the strange entity that doles these powers out, needs to be stopped permanently. And with the stakes this high, any unnecessary risks gambles with people's lives. Nothing was fourteen and homeless when it got handed this problem. It hasn't handled it perfectly, but it's trying.
The way Nothing tenses at being touched probably doesn't help the ongoing vibe of tension between them, but it can't help it. Something that came with the change of color was a heightened level of sensitivity. If it's psychological or physical, Nothing can't tell at this point. Biology textbooks hardly cover this, after all. As much as it isn't comfortable with the initial touch, though, Jason doesn't do anything actually hurtful. Apparently bruises still function enough like normal human ones that all the old rules about handling them still apply. Nothing tells itself that's reassuring and that this is fine, this indicates things aren't as far gone as it had thought, and almost manages to believe it.
It nods at being told not to apologize. The idea that anyone could stomach this is hard to believe. Jason's seen a lot of gore, though. Maybe that's why he can push aside the weirdness of it. Nothing tries not to think of the fact that this is the longest willing contact anyone has had with it in years. It tries, but...
But then Jason says that and Nothing shuts its' eyes hard. This is not the correct time to have feelings return. This is the worst possible time. Tears well up in its' eyes and it tells itself it's just the ankle. Why is an ounce of kindness its' fucking kryptonite? Do not reply to that. Do not say something stupid Do not-]
When I was little I wanted to be an artist. I painted on every tile on the kitchen floor once, one by one, all three hundred and twelve of them. Different patterns on each, all warm colors in one corner and then cooler and cooler colors in another. I think I was... I couldn't read yet, so I was three or four.
My dad yelled at me. I don't remember all of it. Just him saying art was useless and he didn't raise a pansy and I needed to do something useful with my life. I had to clean all the tiles with bleach. Mostly I remember him telling me, again and again, "I didn't raise a lazy little baby. Do something useful with your life. I didn't bust my ass to immigrate so you could color." But I still did. [It still fucked up, even when explicitly told something was a fuck up and not to do it. Nothing struggles to stay monotone but just ends up quieter and quieter and increasingly defeated sounding, even as it chokes back tears mostly successfully.]
I'm sorry I'm like this. I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know how to be a person. I don't think I ever learned it right. I didn't mean to hurt you.
[Fuck, none of that is eloquent or well-worded or intelligent sounding. It probably just sounds crazier than ever, now. Shit.]
no subject
if only Nothing could trust that.
Nothing tensing up doesn't make things worse, but Jason does keep an eye on them, does keep things slow. if Nothing wants to pull away or tell him to stop, he will. but they don't, so Jason keeps wrapping up the incredibly swollen ankle. he understands this too. he's been out there so many injuries, pretending he's fine, pushing through.
he wants to say more, but Nothing finally grabs onto something Jason says, and so he lets them talk, telling him important things. he's still wrapping their ankle, but he slows down a little.]
That sounds really fucking cool. I would've loved to see it.
[maybe their dad didn't, but dads are shit. they shouldn't even matter.]
It's cool. It's ok. We all have shit we get riled up over. Guess it wasn't so cute that time.
no subject
None of them can know exactly what kind of fire they're playing with until they're close enough for it to burn. Better to die attempting to destroy it and leave Batman all its' notes and research into the Scarlet King than bring Batman in for the initial attempt. Content with the idea Nothing was, as always, acting alone, the smug bastard would see no need to relocate. The last notes would name a location. Then he would be the one with his guard down, and this would finally be over.
Unless Nothing doesn't find him before its' time runs out, of course. It has, what, three years left? Maybe four? Is that time enough?
Nothing wonders if this matters, if talking and rambling as if anything it says makes sense is even worth it when it can tell that it's having a bad mental health episode. But for once it manages not to offend Jason, so there's that, at least. At least it hasn't made one person angry. That's about as good as it gets.]
Maman told me not to think about it. Not to think about anything. Ne pense pas, sois bon.. Just do what I was told. So I did. And I do. I just... slip out of myself and do things, whatever the right thing seems to be, for a while. It got worse as I got older. It really got bad after I got my powers and ended up on the street. I don't even remember most of that year clearly, it was that bad.
[Fuck it. It's dying in a few years anyway. Even if Jason does piece together who Nothing used to be, it doesn't matter. And it's so good to finally say something to someone who doesn't automatically take its' dad side. God, that was exhausting, growing up. 'Your dad works hard to provide for you' 'your dad's an immigrant, you don't understand' 'he had to work since he was your age' - never anything to the effect of 'what you did wasn't wrong, actually', let alone praise for an idea. Nothing's shoulders slump, suddenly utterly drained.]
I was better in middle school, when I could stop it from happening mid-anxiety spike, but Ativan's expensive. And a controlled substance. And I doubt Bruce would want to work with me if he knew I'm unstable like this. I... I don't know how to fix myself.
no subject
but that gets lonely and sad and along with all the other fucked up things in Jason's head, it doesn't leave him in a very good mental health place either.
he could never vent like this, but he's glad Nothing feels like they can, even if his own words are mostly ignored. it sounds like he really needs this, so Jason listens as he continues to wrap up Nothing's leg.]
I think Bruce probably knows by now. Maybe that's why he's trying to help you.
[of course Bruce knows and it's part of the reason he's keeping Nothing around. he knows the kid needs help and here's Jason, a fucking mess of a kid too. maybe he was hoping the two of them could help each other. but Jason's volatile too. he's pretty sure Bruce hasn't yet figured out that he's pure poison.
or so he thinks.
he slides his hands up and gently curls his fingers around the pitch blackness of Nothing's skin. it really is something else, feeling skin against skin.]
Things don't gotta be that way, N. You don't gotta slip outside of yourself. I know... I know how that is. I used to do that sometimes too. My dad... he used to tear into me just about every night. He'd beat me bloody and throw me in the closet, locking the door. Sometimes he'd forget I was even in there. I bet there are still marks on the inside of that door. I'd slip outside of myself every single time... but it got harder to come back each time too. I could feel myself breaking. That was an even scarier and more fucked up thing.
But everythings different now. I survived and so did you. And you're here now. You made it all the way here and we can help you. Let me help you.
[he's even willing to give up pieces of his past to help. he's never told anyone these things either.]
no subject
...but Jason acts like he wants Nothing to speak. Like he wants it angry or frustrated if that means it isn't walking around in a daze, only functioning, no longer attempting to engage with its' own (possibly fading) humanity. Nothing cannot figure this guy out to save its' life.
He touches Nothing as if they're friends and Nothing has to force back the desire to sob. How long has it been since someone held its' hand? Three years? Four? It leans in, as if that could somehow make this moment sear into its' memory, stay there where it can be hung onto and treasured.
Then Jason drops the kind of emotional bombs that confirm that Nothing is a spoiled, self-righteous, self-centered, self-absorbed jackass who has not had anything hard in even the slightest way. And Nothing's free hand rests atop Jason's atop its', as if somehow they can provide mutual comfort to one another. What it really wants is to have some way to make the past better. There is none. That hurts, the knowledge Jason suffered and there's nothing that can be done to erase the horrors he's endured. He doesn't deserve to have to live with that.]
You're so much better than me. You've been through so much, and you're so... together. Whole. You put yourself back together. I really admire you, Jason.
[The way Nothing speaks now is soft, almost awed, even if there's still an edge of raw vulnerability there, of anxiety underneath the calm Jason's attempting to provide. He's so, so good to Nothing, who absolutely does not deserve this second chance, who doesn't deserve soft voices and admissions of secrets and art supplies. Nothing wants to kiss him. It wants to tell him he isn't alone. Both things seem like more than Nothing has a right to do, after the way it's been acting lately.]
I want help. I just don't know if it's too late, and I... I don't know how this works. I know I don't want to be a terrible person, but that's all I know. What if it's too late for me?
no subject
maybe eventually Nothing will realize that they're doing so much of this to themselves for no reason. maybe it's a teenager thing, because there are many times Jason falls into the same trap and can't get out of it. but no one has ever really taken the time to talk to him about it. instead, he's told his words are bullshit, or fantasies. would he listen if someone told him to stop and thing, though? probably not, same as Nothing.
when Nothing doesn't pull away from Jason's touch, he keeps at it, his thumbs running back and forth along their skin. a soft look crosses his face when Nothing rests their hand over his.]
You've been through a lot too. And in my head? I don't think I'm as together as you think I am. But I can't dwell on that, you know? We can do better if we don't break ourselves in the process. Cause in the end we're all we've got. And maybe... I dunno. Maybe I can be here for you too.
[he's never gotten a chance to talk to anyone like this before. he just hopes that his words can make a difference, even if just a little bit.]
You're not a terrible person. You're not. I wasn't saying... look, I'm sorry. All that shit I said, it probably came out the wrong way. It always fucking does. I run my mouth a whole damn lot and it gets me in a lot of fucking trouble. I always get under people's skin and push people away. I didn't mean it in such a shitty way.
It's not too late for you, and most of the time I don't know how this works either, but we can figure it out, yeah?
no subject
No one should be surprised someone mentally ill enough to take comfort in being called Nothing is not someone with people skills or the ability to listen and process things correctly.
Nothing scoots closer on the floor - the benefit of telekinetic arms is that it doesn't matter if its' visible ones are occupied - in order to be close to him. The desire to kiss him is there but stronger now is the desire to touch, not even necessarily romantically, just physically, just to feel someone else's presence and keep itself grounded in the present.]
I think I'd like that. Having someone there for me, I mean. I don't really know what that's like. I want to be there for you, too. You treat me like I'm a person.
[That's how low Nothing's bar for friendship or admiration is. It just wants someone to treat it like a person, even if it doesn't think of itself in those terms.]
It's okay. I had it coming. [A small, casual shrug.] I've heard worse. I'm not mad at you. You didn't do anything wrong. Or at least, not on purpose, which is different than the usual crap I get from people. You're a good person, I know you didn't want to be hurtful, I just... I don't process things right, sometimes.
[Nothing cautiously moves to rest its' tired head against Jason's shoulder. Sitting here on the floor, using its' telekinetic vectors to hold its' weight so it can keep its' hands intertwined with his, it feels better than it has in days. The fog that so often comes when it slips out of itself, that exhausted headspace where whole days blur together without meaning anything or Nothing retaining any long-term memory of events, is lifting.]
We can figure it out, yeah. I... Jason? [Its' voice is soft, shy.] I think maybe I fucked up and hurt you, too. And I'm sorry. I thought if I'm stressing you out then it's better if I'm not around to make your life worse. I wasn't trying to hurt you. [It nuzzles its' head into his shoulder, too tired to come up with a better way to show affection.]
no subject
he doesn't know why Nothing has that name or where it comes from. maybe it's his own emotional instability that has him thinking he gets it. he doesn't question it. it's just there. he understands a lot of it. ]
I know what it's like to not be treated like a person. No one deserves that shit.
[Jason's bar is that low too. he'll swear he doesn't care, but the slightest compliment has him head over heels. it's sad how easy he can be sometimes.
when Nothing moves closer, Jason shifts closer too, their legs almost intertwined now, Jason's hands still on them.]
People ignore me all the time. They leave me all the fucking time. I guess I just felt like... you know. Here we go again. It's cool though. I think we both just got too carried away.
[he lets out a long breath when Nothing nuzzles into his shoulder, and Jason rests his head down against theirs too.]
We good?
no subject
Perhaps living in the moment is good enough. The past is a disaster. The future is also deeply fucked. Nothing shuts its' eyes, breathes in deeply and tries to ground itself in this, this contact and the way Jason talks to it.]
I would never treat you like that. You're a person. A person who's kind of complicated and I don't understand, but I'm out of practice with people, so that's more an indictment of me than you.
[It places a telekinetic vector on his leg, just above his knee. The feeling is not quite identical to having a physical hand on him, not as weighty, but warm, solid nonetheless. Maybe that's overstepping a boundary. Maybe Nothing is making this weird.
Maybe there is no weird or normal in this situation.]
I just didn't want to keep making you upset. I want you to be happy. You deserve it. I'm sorry I'm like this, I... it's a lot of things. Keeping myself stable involves things I just don't have access to anymore.
[Ativan. Magnesium, B vitamin and iron supplements. Being nocturnal. There's ways to make this kind of meltdown rarer but they're all things that would be incredibly awkward to ask Batman for - 'hi, I need drugs, vitamins, and to be allowed to not work when the sun's out even though we're in the middle of a crime wave'? That's the kind of needy bullshit that'd, very rightfully, be met with follow-up questions and that'll take focus off of crime and onto Nothing when Batman needs to be fully focused on the former, not the latter.
Nothing is so tired. It wishes, irrationally, that it could curl up beside Jason and sleep with him nearby, to talk sense into it and keep the meltdowns at bay.]
We're good. Is this... [it tilts its' head towards where its' telekinetic hand is on Jason's leg,] okay? I can stop if not. Maman didn't raise a creep.
no subject
living in the moment is the only thing that gets him through. ]
Don't worry, you're not the first to say that.
[complicated, difficult, too much. hard to love. a goddamn mistake. it doesn't have to be like that with Nothing, though. he can already see that it's different. even with all of this, Nothing still wants to reach out to him. to touch him. Jason is very ok with that.]
You know I can help you get whatever you need, right? You don't gotta go through Bruce. I know people.
[Bruce has a lot, but when it comes to connections in Gotham? Jason might actually have more. he can try to help if Nothing lets him.]
It's okay. It's good. You're not a creep. You wanna go up to my room?
no subject
Somehow they managed to break in different circumstances and end up with the same conclusion: keep going, even if you know you'll never stop it all.]
It's not an insult. Most intelligent people are complicated. Especially when they've been through a lot, and you... you've been through a lot and I can tell that what you said isn't all of it.
[There's some real mixed emotions, there. Admiration for the determination and strength it took to survive, disgust that the world is so cruel and violent, and the overwhelming desire to keep Jason safe despite knowing it is literally both of their jobs to put themselves in danger on a daily basis and neither of them can keep things from happening.]
I can get most of it through Bruce. Just not one thing, and I don't - I can't- [how to phrase this?] I don't like that I can't do anything for you in return. You deserve to have someone be there for you instead of always being the one who helps others.
[Someone needs to back Jason up. Jason deserves, after everything he's done, to have someone to lean on, instead of only taking on more responsibilities without end. Nothing squeezes his hand almost lovingly. Oh, God. There really is something between them, isn't there?]
Yeah, I do. But tell me, if I cross any lines, here. As I've abundantly demonstrated, I'm not great with... people, as a whole, honestly, but also especially this, whatever this is.
[This whole conversation has been too many things at once - confession, apology, consolation, affection, and hints of flirting. What even is this? Well, it's good, whatever it is, and Nothing wants it to continue on.]
no subject
[he wants it to stay that way. he can't dwell on the past. can't even think about it or it might fuck him up even more.]
You can. It's okay. I can get you what you need, I'm serious. I don't want you to hold back just cause you feel like you can't ask Bruce. I get it.
[he knows how Bruce is. he's given Jason everything but he can also take it away in the blink of an eye. Jason moves a little closer, finding one of Nothing's hands and lacing their fingers]
I'll tell you if you do, but I know you won't. You can trust that I'm the kinda person who will always tell you if I don't want something, though.
no subject
...Ativan. I can get ahold of the rest on my own, but I can't get afford a controlled substance, legally or otherwise, and I sure as hell can't afford to be seen buying drugs when the press is mixed on their opinions of me as it is. The good news it takes a very low dosage to keep me sane. The bad news is it's getting progressively harder to find. [There's something darkly hilarious about the fact that Batman helping clean up Gotham city is accidentally fucking over another hero. It's unintentional, though, and unknowing, so Nothing can give him a pass on that count.
Nothing looks at Jason for a long moment, contemplating something, then makes a decision.]
Let's go to your room. I'll show you my face, though God only knows why you want to see the damn thing. [Nothing does not particularly like its' own appearance, but Jason... it's different with Jason.] I'm fine with you seeing my face in private. I don't want Bruce seeing it.
[The fact Bruce probably knows Nothing's identity already is not the point. If he sees them curled up together on the floor of the Batcave, with Nothing's helmet off, that looks like exactly the romantically-charged thing this is, and Bruce wanted them to be friends, not... whatever this is. Nothing forces itself up, and for a moment some of the telekinetic arms are visible, as they sometimes are when it's tired, pushing up against the wall and floor to help Nothing get to its' feet without putting weight on that ankle. The smoothness of the motions make it clear Nothing is used to using them to help compensate for injuries.]
no subject
[ he knows people. a lot of people, and even if he's on the Batman side of justice now, he knows there are good people in bad spots, even though he loathes drug dealers. his mother used to make him help her get drugs when he was younger and he hated it, but he didn't want her to be in pain. he can do this now too. ]
I wanna see it because I wanna see you. You don't gotta force yourself though, if you really don't want to, but I'd like to if you're willing.
[and only if they're willing. Jason, in any capacity, is big on consent. he knows what it's like not to have it, and he knows Nothing knows what that feels like too. it's a shitty thing.
he's quick to get up and help Nothing up off the floor, his eyes transfixed on the telekinetic arms for a moment before he moves closer, offering his shoulder.]
Here, put your weight against me, I'll help you walk. That ankles pretty bad, you're gonna rest it for a while.
[he first step to helping. Jason's gonna make sure they get some sleep, or at least stay horizontal for longer than they planned to.]
no subject
[It still remembers high school, remembers the way a surplus turned from mood-regulating into a regular temptation to get messed up on it and pass out instead of facing reality. Any use of it now needs to be very low dosage and very carefully measured out. Getting addicted is easy. Going off of Ativan cold turkey when it struck out as a superhero brought Nothing right up to the brink of insanity.]
It's okay if it's you. [Which is a statement with implications that Nothing is not thinking about. If it thought about how quickly Jason wore down all of its' defenses, it would probably realize how ridiculous that is.]
[Consent, in Nothing's life, has operated mostly on a sliding scale. Having any semblance of true control was rare prior to becoming a superhero. That's one of the reasons it's been so quick to work with Batman - he saved Nothing from a fate almost too terrible to contemplate, and made an offer of 'come work with me' rather than demanding cooperation outright. When treated as if it could actually say no and have that be respected, Nothing finds it a lot easier to say yes.
Telekinesis is a good crutch. It could just say no and force itself onward. Nothing has had worse injuries than this before and managed to deal with them alone. But there's something so human and kind about being offered a shoulder that Nothing finds refusing to be impossible. It wraps an arm around Jason's shoulders, trying to keep weight off of the still visibly swollen ankle.]
Thank you. It looks worse than it feels, though. I'm not in a ton of pain, I'm just a little tired.
[That's a wild understatement. Now that they've resolved things, the tension that had been letting Nothing keep pushing onward is gone, replaced by its' body reminding it that it didn't sleep last night. It leans against Jason as they walk, occasionally using its' telekinetic arms to take the weight off of its' ankle entirely.]
This is a lot better than the time I broke some ribs, [Nothing notes, trying to be positive.] I don't this is broken. Just sprained. I can still work on a sprain.
[It cannot work with bones broken for longer than a few hours. That was a lesson learned the hard way during its' first year of doing this.]
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[he's known plenty of drug addicts all his life. he's pretty sure every single person in his family was one, and most of the people on the streets where he grew up. but he doesn't want to think about any of that.
what he does want to think about is Nothing, and how much it means for them to say those words. It's okay if it's you. it feels like a lot, and Jason wants to hold that trust for them.]
Okay.
[he says softly, and then he helps Nothing up, glad when they do actually lean their weight against him. he makes sure to hold on tight- not too tight, but enough where he'll take on the brunt of their weight and can properly move them upstairs. hell, he'd lift them up if he didn't think that was too much. maybe once they get to the stairs.]
It'll feel better once you lay down, and you're gonna rest this shit. You're kinda burning up too. You said you wanted help so let me help you. This is a part of it.
[Jason knows it won't be that easy, but he can at least try. he starts making his way up out of the cave with Nothing, heading into the manor.]
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[That is not remotely close to sarcasm. Nothing has every trust that Jason will cut the supply off if he has to and that's honestly a big part of why Nothing is even willing to ask for this. It needs someone unafraid to call it out and tell it that this has gotten out of hand. Jason, while not a flawless person, is definitely the right guy for that.
Nothing would not react well to being picked up. The last two times someone did that to it, they did so for the express purpose of carrying it to be used by human traffickers or, the time prior, eaten alive by an eldritch being. It remembers the sensation of being too pained to move, let alone fight back, carried in someone's arm like a sack of meat about to be offered up for slaughter. Life has managed to taint an action that simple and normal and make it something bad and uncomfortable.]
I am? I don't feel warm, but... honestly I was a bad gauge of if I was sick even pre-powers, so I'm going to take your word on it. Mostly I just feel thirsty and tired.
[They make their way out of the cave bit by bit. Nothing wants to curl up with Jason, but its' aversion to being carried means it has to, reluctantly, detangle itself from him and use its' telekinetic vectors to climb the stairs, putting all of its' weight on those, feet never touching the ground. The effect looks like gliding, might pass as flight if there wasn't the sound of invisible hands on the stairs, contact that still produces sound if not sight. Jason has seen Nothing use its' telekinesis to push it forward or make large leaps; this is just an extension of the same power, applied to make up entirely for an injury.
This is also a strain, under the circumstances, and at the top of the stairs Nothing leans against the wall for a moment, a little dizzy. Like sprinting while sick, this can be done, but it cannot be done without some consequence. Guiltily, it looks over at Jason.]
Sorry. I - I don't like being carried, I... [No. It cannot get into that. Not now.] It's not a you thing. It's a touch thing. And it's usually a lot easier to do this - I'm not trying to overexert myself on purpose.
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[Jason will make absolute sure to call Nothing out if it gets out of hand, but he also knows that Nothing gets how hard these are to find, and that they'll ration them rather than down too many in one go.]
Once we're in my room I'll get you everything you need.
[water, meds, an extra pillow if necessary. Jason's pretty sure he'd be terrible at taking care of people, but he does it anyway. he reluctantly lets go when they get to the stairs, but he's not gonna push when Nothing wants to do their thing. by the time they up there though, he looks even more exhausted.]
I had a feeling you wouldn't like being carried. It's all good, you don't gotta be sorry. Just lean on me again, my rooms all the way down the hall. We just need to get there and then we can lay down.
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[Working these city streets, all one has to do to find people who thought surely this wouldn't happen to them is go on patrol. There are many, many people who fell into something hard to find that then went to something easier to find, and from there it's a short and steep drop into addiction that becomes lifelong. One of the best parts of working with Jason is knowing that Jason cares too much to let anyone he knows slip into that. He would stop Nothing even if they were on bad terms with each other because he simply has moral standards he won't compromise.]
Thank you for understanding. I - I mentioned to you, how I met Batman? That was the last time someone carried me, into the building where he found me.
[Drugged, half-undressed, at its' thinnest and smallest. Nothing knows it doesn't owe Jason an explanation but it gives one to him anyway because it knows Jason will understand. Hell, even Batman, who is not incredibly skilled at emotions, understood enough not to touch Nothing after that or try to carry it anywhere. Some experiences are violating even when nothing sexual actually happened. That comes with the territory of having one's consent actively discarded and disregarded.
Nothing leans against Jason without complaint or hesitation. It nuzzles its' head against his briefly, a moment of affection, then nods and begins to walk with him forward. The hall is long but at least the end is in sight, and that makes this much easier and less intimidating to take on.
When they finally there, Nothing pushes the door open with telekinesis so they don't have to fiddle with the doorknob and, arm firmly around Jason's shoulder, hauls him onto the bed along with it when it flops onto it. It does remember to shut the door with telekinesis, but it's too tired to remember that this should probably be a little too much physical proximity to be comfortable with. Apparently, being too tired to be embarrassed is a thing.]
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[that tends to change a lot for people, at least with the rationing part. he's been around enough drug addicts to know that too... but Nothing isn't an addict, and Jason is here to make sure they won't fall off the edge either way.]
I get it, that shit stays with you. You can tell me if anything makes you uncomfortable and I won't do it, no matter what.
[even if they're angry, even if they fight. there are limits and Jason won't use them. he knows what it feels like to have those limits dragged through the dirt and violated, even if nothing sexual happened. god, does he ever know it.
Jason's relieved when they make it to his bedroom in one piece, and they flop down on the bed. now they can be still here. Jason can make sure that Nothing is ok, and they can rest here like this for a while. he's so fucking exhausted too. everything hurts, but at least his heart hurts a little less now.]
Fuck, we made it. You ok?
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