Grantaire as a disruptive class clown all throughout school
Grantaire always deflecting inquiries about his family situation, mental health, and sexuality with a joke and a sly quip
Teachers hate him, can’t understand how such a smart boy seems to only use that intellect to undermine them
His classmates love having him in class, but never invite him to things, only saw him as the guy who can make any teachers head spin in under 15 minutes with no other skills or worth
Grantaire seeing his self-worth in how quickly a figure of authority will yell, how many people will laugh, how long he’ll hear the story swirling around the halls
Grantaire automatically doing this when he starts attending Amis meetings, snarking and teasing, waiting to he disciplined or thrown out because come on Granatire you’re not in school anymore
Genuinely surprised when he is invited back with open arms, with Combeferre one of the leaders, complementing it’s immature but it makes us think outside the box- it’s helpful
Grantaire finding that his obnoxious abilities are welcomed, greeted with a similar sly joke or jab- but that isn’t all he’s valued for that his art and kindness and quirkiness are also celebrated is this crazy new family he had stumbled upon
For the anon that requested and angsty fic between Bruce and Arkham Jason ^_^
Don’t make me do it, Bruce. Don’t make me pull the trigger.
Jason had one of the guns in his hand, the sleek metal all to familiar, yet haunting. His knees were tumbling, and Bruce couldn’t see the pained expression that was hidden by his helmet.
“You know I never meant to do wrong by you, Jason.” The gruff words came from Bruce, but almost bounced off Jason. The older man stood like a statue, wanting to nothing to provoke Jason more than he already had.
“Do wrong by me? It was a little more than that.” Jason’s head was spinning, wanting to drive Bruce away and let him in at the same time. The barrel of the gun was still pointed at Bruce, fingers tense.
Jason didn’t want to do this. He hoped that Bruce would refrain from coming closer, because he knew that if Bruce did, he wouldn’t have what it took to shoot him. Leave, Bruce. Leave me to myself so you can be spared from the damage.
“I saw that video, Jason. I watched him kill you. I never meant to leave you to him.” Bruce’s hands motioned in accordance with his tone, but Jason kept still.
“You had so many things I could’ve properly helped when you were Robin, and I know it’s my fault the this happened to you. Please, let me help.” Bruce took one step forward, but Jason started to crack. His arm fell down, thumping against his side, and he ingredients his head.
“Why didn’t you? Why did you let me stay blind?” Quietly, Bruce shuffled forward. He needed to be closer, needed Jason to see him. Hearing the words from Jason come out shakily, his throat got tight.
“I thought that-that if I made you stronger, you’d find the best way to heal yourself. It was wrong, I was wrong.” Another step fro Bruce, and more uneasiness in Jason’s knees. Stop. Stop, please.
It took a few moments for a response. They stared at each other, more forlorn than tense in the silence. Jason watched his former mentor gaze at him. He saw a myriad of emotions; empathy, sadness, guilt, pain. Nothing negative, ironically. Bruce had every reason to hate him. Every reason to put him back in the place where the Arkham Knight was created. He won’t because he knows that this wasn’t entirely your fault.
“It wouldn’t matter if I came back anyway. You have Tim.” He spat the new Robin’s name, anger spiking again at the subject. His replacement.
“It would. He’s Robin, you’re you, Jason. You two are completely different.” Liar.
“He was only there to replace me!” His tone climbed to a shout. Already, Bruce was shaking his head.
“No, no he wasn’t. If anything, he made me realize what I did wrong. He was to make up to the world what I took from it. You Jason, I was the reason you left and what’s worse is that a place like this didn’t deserve someone like you in the first place.” He’s just trying to get himself out of the shitstorm.
No he’s not. Maybe he is.
“Stop! Just stop, please.” The shouting was to no one in particular. Himself, what his head told him, or Bruce. All three. Jason couldn’t tell, but he wanted everything to stop. Bruce’s heavy pace thudded across the concrete floor as Jason fell to it, vision getting a little more blurry.
“It could be okay Jason. Let me help, for real. This time I won’t do it wrong.” The hand on Jason’s shoulder felt more like a weight. Something he couldn’t carry or live up to. Something he might not deserve.
“Come home, Jason. Come with me.” He kneeled down to match Jason’s eye level.
“I can’t, I can’t.” He settled a little more, back hunched and head threatening to rest against the more heavily armored shoulder. I can’t be forgiven. A few click, and a breeze washed over Jason’s face. The helmet was tossed aside, the metal and glass hitting the ground with clangs and cracking noises.
“Yes, you can. I don’t want you back on the streets. Even if you wanted your own place… I could get that for you. I promise.” Bruce brought his arms, heavy, around Jason. He needed to keep him close, to assure him that he wouldn’t let this happen again, because it wouldn’t. He promised.