#Then Bruce looses him again haha

[yeetus-feetus]

Another for WIP Wednesday

Update on the Rapunzel AU that I'm working on for @dragonpyre

Prepare yourself for 10 pages of this below the cut

(I'm starting to loose motivation and need praise to feed my energy so I can write more lol)

Warning: I use google translate for the non-english words (please correct me if I get something wrong)

Jason, second heir to the throne of Gotham, was a happy little boy with a very loud personality. A former street kid, he was adopted into royalty at the age of 2 following his mother’s death, much like his older brother Richard, by the current King of Darkness.

Make no mistake by the title he holds, Bruce Wayne is a very Just king, though he cloaks himself in the fine fabrics of midnight and gold emblems that glitter like the stars.

But the young prince Jason was a ball of energy with a smart mouth and a baby as he were, often got on the wrong people's nerves. There was one man in particular, the Jester of the court– who was perhaps something more than a simple Jester to the King, maybe even a friend– had joined the Royal staff after a terrible accident that disfigured him many moons before Jason himself was even born.

On this day, Jason was only five when he trod on the odd man’s toes. He can’t remember what he’d said to the man, but it was something with loud youthful ignorance behind it, maybe something about his permanent smile and moon-pale skin. It wasn’t anything nice, to say the least, but who can blame a child of such brutal, unthinking honesty without the better knowledge on how such things were hurtful.

Maybe a man with a soft heart, and the belief he could give everyone in his Kingdom a better life and a second chance, should be blamed on keeping criminals and the insane in his company. Maybe a toddler in bright mocking colours shouldn’t have been left unattended to in the palace halls after a silly disagreement regarding his biological mother.

The Jester never returned to the King’s court after that night.

The boy, Jason, had been found in a puddle of his own bastard blood in a storeroom downstairs by the cellar, in teeny tiny shackles with his small bones shattered, tear streaks still wet on his cheeks as he lay limp on the freezing cold cement floor.

The King had wept, cradling the young Prince’s broken body close to him, wailed and begged for the boy to come back to him, pleading for forgiveness from a child who was no more. The King of Darkness caressed the soft face of a lifeless shell, and that was when the shadows spoke.

A deep eerie voice had filled his ears from all directions, reminding him of a tale he had believed to be only myth. The story of the moon when she wept for her own son once very long ago …

A single tear of moonlight had fallen from the heavens, and from this small drop of sorrow bloomed a magic, glowing flower. It had the ability to heal the sick and injured– and in extremely rare cases, even raise the dead if the moon wished it so.

“However, the Flower of Lazarus is protected by a Demon whom hoards it for its youth restoring power”, the low voice warned. “And you have only until the fourth day, beginning when the sun breaks over your Kingdom at dawn, to retrieve it. For when the sun sets on that day, the boy will remain in a tomb forever.”

Bruce, because he is no King down here with a dead son in his arms, remains speechless and confused. Before he could gather his thoughts and interrogate the validity of this supernatural voice, a flock of bats screeched and swarmed and then the voice was gone.

And a man was left in a cold empty room with his beaten bloody five year old, fear and determination filling his heavy heart. A hope that in four days time, his son will be returned to the earth and fill the Palace with his laughter once more.

⧫

The quest carried out by the King’s Guard had proved successful, and the magic of the Lazarus Flower, brewed into a glowing green liquid potion heals the dead Prince’s body on the morning of the fourth day.

A new tale of rebirth bringing the kingdom together as the King launched a floating lantern into the darkness of the night sky. A symbol of prevailing hope and new life, to celebrate the return of his beloved young son.

Even though Jason remained asleep, recovering his strength after lying limp and dead for days, he was alive, and his father was grateful as he watched his peaceful sleep, watched as his chest rose and fell with every breath and cried. He held his tiny hand in his, warm and living, a steady pulse beneath Bruce’s thumb.

For that one moment, everything was perfect.

And then that moment ended.

A cloaked woman had entered young Jason’s room that very night by way of the balcony, silently creeping towards the boy’s bed where he slept soundly, unknowing to the threat of her presence. The woman pulled back her hood and stroked a deadly gentle hand up over his face until she reached his soft baby curls as she sang in hushed tones.

“Flower gleam and glow”

And glow the child’s hair did, a bright green hue filling the room. She pulled a long lock of the glowing hair taught between calloused fingers, reaching into the deep green of her garments for the jewelled hilt of a small, sharp knife as she continued.

“Let your powers shine”

The blade glinted in the unnatural light as the woman’s tan hand brought the sharpened knife up…

“Make the clock re–”

But as the knife sliced through the strands of hair it turned lifeless and lost its colour, turning moon-white and powerless.

The shock and confusion was clear on the woman’s face, a frown carving its way into her beautiful features as she realised what she must do in order to fulfil her father’s wishes.

Just like that, Jason was stolen, gone.

The Kingdom searched and searched by order of their devastated, grieving King, but all their attempts at recovering the small boy proved futile. They could not find the Prince of Gotham.

For deep within the forest, in a tall hidden tower, the woman– Talia Al Ghul– raised the child as her own.

⧫

When Jason had finally awoken, his memories were muddled and hazy and not all there. His head ached like it was splitting and the lamp light in the room was much too bright.

The comfort of a woman who claimed to be his mother held him close in her warmth and sang to him with her gentle voice, easing his worry as he hid his face in the soft silk of her robes.

“Flower gleam and glow,

Let your power shine

Make the clock reverse,”

A strong masculine hand combed through Jason’s precious curls, soothing the painful pressure in his skull with rough, wrinkled fingers that softened and grew young with the green glow above his head.

“Bring back what once was mine,

What once was mine”

And that was that. Jason knew he belonged here.

⧫

The Al Ghul’s– Ra’s in particular– had found their new magic flower, and this time they were determined to keep it hidden. To keep it safe and unharmed, and away from the rest of the world.

It’s one day, whilst his Grandfather is combing through Jason’s wavy hair as he finished singing, that the then 8 year old boy asks:

“Why can’t I go outside?”

His mother had looked up from where she’d been concentrating hard on some scrolls in front of her that he wasn’t allowed to read. “The outside world is a dangerous place, filled with horrible, selfish people. You must stay here, where you are safe. Do you understand, Rayean*?”

*(Arabic: flower, bloom, flowering)

Jason nodded his head obediently. “Yes, Mama”.

But the walls of that high tower could not hide everything.

Each year on the day of his rebirth and disappearance, April 27th– a day that should have been filled with sunshine but fell sorely short of anything more than gloomy– the King of Gotham and his trusted royal butler would release thousands of lanterns into the sky, in the hope that one day, their lost Prince would be returned to them.

And every year, on his birthday, Jason watched them from the tower window in awe and curiosity.

⧫

[many years later]

A small robin hides behind a terracotta flower pot by the open window, seemingly holding its breath, and doing its best to blend in amongst the floral pattern etched into it.

Inside the tower, a young man, with long, wavy ebony hair, shoves aside rich purple tapestries draped over the wall above the home’s hearth.

“HAH!.. hmm, well… I guess Pascal’s not hiding here”.

The small bird twitters in amusement, only to be snatched up by a thick lock of hair as it shrieks in surprise. Jason laughs loudly at the robin’s expense, letting it perch on the back of his hand as he grins. “Gotcha!!! That’s twenty two for me. How ‘bout twenty three out of forty five?”

The robin, Pascal, shakes his head in disagreement, chirping unhappily.

“Okay, well. What d’you wanna do?” Jason asks.

The bird turns and gestures his bright yellow beak at the window, eagerly indicating that he wants to go outside. The young man lets out a puff of air in response.

“Yeah no, I don't think so. I like it in here and so do you.” but all the bird does is turn all the way around, facing away from Jason altogether. “Oh c’mon Pascal, it’s not so bad in there”.

The robin doesn’t turn around, choosing to ignore the boy, who pouts in response.

“Pascaaalll”, Jason drags the name of the small familiar out, making pleading eyes at him. The robin puffs out and finally turns around, making the young man smile. “Sing with me?” he asks, and the bird weighs his head from side to side before chirping his agreement.

And so they sing as Jason goes about his daily routine of mopping and sweeping the tower’s gorgeous tiled floors. Then he’s doing the laundry for his mother and going for a shower to freshen himself up, going through the tremendous effort of cleaning and brushing out his wavy hair.

But it’s still early morning by the time he’s finished, and he’s desperately bored with Mother and Grandfather away doing whatever it was that is so damn important.

So Jason is flopped out on his bed, still working on a small braid that he had started maybe half an hour ago.

He’d taken a few pieces of hair tucked behind his ear and decided that there was nothing better to do. It was difficult enough, with just how long his hair was, to make the small braid on his own. The strands of hair had gotten tangled further down as he focused on twisting it together, and almost made him give up several times in frustration. But Jason was stubborn, and now he was finally, finally tying off the end of it.

And… he’s bored again.

“Urghh”, he groans, rolling over and burying his face into his silk red pillowcase. His words are muffled as he complains, “when will my life begin, Pascal? I’m so sick of being stuck in this stupid tower!”

Pascal chirps from where he’s sitting on the bookcase, one filled with all sorts of books, mostly poetry and theatre, in both English and Arabic. And the bird chirps again, even louder, as he tries to get the young man's attention.

“What?” Jason groans once more, pulling his head up out of the pillow and glaring at the robin. Pascal tilts his head before he starts pecking at the cover of one of the many books. “Read?” he asks, and the bird nods.

“I’ve already read every book in this tower thrice over! There’s nothing to do heeere”, the boy whines loudly, rolling himself off the bed and onto the soft Persian rug below with a heavy, dramatic thud.

On the floor, he catches a glimpse of his shell-based paints tucked away under his bed, an idea popping into his head. He grins, reaching forward to scoop them all up and place them on top the geometric pattern of his sheets. “What should we paint today, Pascal?” Jason asks with enthusiasm, and the little robin twitters happily in response.

Hours later and Jason is practising guitar, waiting for certain areas of paint to dry before he can continue adding to the art on the walls. He paints some more, then he’s knitting and playing Chess with Pascal, and soon enough his stomach is growling.

“You hungry Pascal?” Jason asks.

The bird chirps in response and flies into the kitchen, making the young man smile as he huffs out a soft laugh.

“Good, ‘cause I am too”.

Jason makes himself some toast, humming a made up tune while Pascal whistles along with him. “Breadcrumbs my good sir?” Jason asks in a dramatic flourish as he sets out a plate of broken up bread on the small but lavish dining table. The robin twitters happily and digs his little beak in.

After lunch Jason fills his time with puzzles, throwing darts and weightlifting. Then decides to bake some cookies as a treat for when his mother and grandfather return, and while he waits for the timer on the oven there’s another game of hide and seek played between him and Pascal.

By nightfall, Jason has finally exhausted his boredom, yawning as he sits on the windowsill and sketches pictures of Pascal in a near-ful sketch-book by the candlelight.

“Hmm, maybe I could make some more candles tomorrow while I'm waiting for them to come home?” He wonders aloud, he hasn’t made candles in a long while now, and it’s a good activity to fill his time with.

Pascal chirps quietly, as if in agreement with the idea, nestling into Jason’s side. He lets out a breath of amusement at the action and yawns again. “I guess we should be heading to bed then…” he says as he tucks the book under his arm and cups the little robin in his palms, making his way to his bedroom.

There he sets the little bird down on a cushion on his bedside table and flops back in his bed.“G’night Pascal”, he sighs. Staring up at the night sky he painted above his bed, wishing he could be laying on the grass outside instead.

He closes his eyes and has the same odd dream he does every night. The one with the smiling man, and the cold rough concrete scraping against his skin, cold metal against his ribs, and the laughter– but not happy laughter… It’s just a dream, though, and it passes. And he sleeps through the rest of the night dreamless.

So early the next day Jason made candles, then made candle holders with clay and painted those too. And he re-read a book or three, sewed together some holes he found in the sleeve of his shirt and put himself together in something nice to greet his folks with when they got home later that afternoon. Then went through the most tedious chore of brushing and brushing and brushing his hair.

“Arggh! I wish I could just cut all this stupid hair off!” he complained several times, Pascal twittering mockingly at him.

By the time he was done there was still time to spare, and he layed out face-down on the cool tiled floor quite dramatically as he groaned. “When will my life begin, Pascal?” he asks the bird again, as he would ask him everyday.

“Will I ever get to leave the tower? Go away on long trips like mother? Or away for important business matters like Grandfather?” he huffs and presses his forehead into the mosaic of the tile. “What do they even do out there!?”

Jason's throat closes up and his eyes water and burn with unshed tears. “What are they doing out there… when they leave me here, alone and all by myself, for days on end– Mother for months at a time even!” A tear carves a path down his cheek as his hands clench in fists against the cold floor. “If it’s so dangerous out there why don’t they just stay?”

The small robin chirps at him from his perch on the windowsill and Jason rolls onto his back to glare up at him, but the blue morning sky outside catches his eye instead and he sighs, feeling defeated and lost.

Like he’s missing something he can’t quite place, and somehow it’s somewhere out there.

“Tomorrow night those lights will appear”, he says more to himself than the bird watching him carefully. “Just like they do every year on my birthday…”

He sits up and wipes the wet away from his face, turning to look up at one of his paintings, hidden by the tapestries hung above the hearth, but peaking out just enough to remind him it’s there. The bird tilts his head as Jason stands and moves towards it, pulling the rich fabrics aside to gaze up at his art.

Then he pulls himself up onto the hearth to sit on the sturdy ledge, running a hand over the bright spots of light he’s painted against the dark blue night sky he’s made of the wall, tracing his fingers down the length of his painted raven hair that spills down the sandstone canvas.

The full painting altogether depicts Jason himself, outside the tower somewhere, reaching up towards the blots of light as if he could touch them with his fingertips if he just stretched his arm up high enough.

“What is it like out there, where they glow? …now that I'm older, mother might finally let me go”. Jason frowns and turns his head away. “Just maybe”, he whispers to himself.

⧫

Back in the Kingdom of Gotham, two shady figures are scaling the rough brick of the Palace walls, expertly leaping across the roof and making sure to keep hidden from the guards patrolling below.

The man, with fire-bright orange hair tied in a messy bun, bow and arrows strapped to his back, stops and looks out over the Kingdom and the dark rolling hills beyond, a stupid smile on his face. “Wow, I could get used to a view like this!”

The woman behind him, in a form-fitting green and gold one piece suit– resembling one much like a ninja’s, glares at the back of his head. “Arsenal, come on.”

Arsenal just grins and waves her off. “Yeah, hold on, Cheshire.” Sitting his hands on his hips he stares out at the view for a little longer, taking it all in for a few moments as the woman scowls. “Yep, I'm used to it. Man, I want a castle”.

Cheshire rolls her eyes, huffing out an irritated breath. “We do this job, you can buy your own damn castle”, she groans, yanking him by the collar and over towards their entrance between the whether-worn roof tiles of the Palace.

Arsenal is slowly and carefully lowered down into the Royal throne room by a strong, thick rope tied sturdily around his waist. As the woman above lowers him further down, until he’s just hovering over the glass case holding the lost Prince’s crown, one of the Guards sneeze and the redhead lets a stupid smile curl his lips.

“Oh, hay fever?” he asks with an amused, cocky grin on his face.

“Yeah”, the guard replies before quickly spinning around in surprise, catching the smug man leaning against the case with the Prince’s crown in his hand. “Wait, what?” he buffers in confusion.

And Arsenal is quickly lifted, well more like harshly yanked, up towards the high ceilings, escaping through the roof as the guard shouts up at him.

“Hey! Wait! Thief!”The other guards posted in various other places of the room rush over, as this happens, before one of them shouts, “After him!” and they all rush out to ready a chase on horseback.

The duo make their escape, over the bridge joining the island of Gotham to where those dark rolling hills lay, Arsenal running his mouth as they rush to get outside the borders of the dark and gloomy Kingdom. “Can’t you picture me in a castle of my own? I mean, I certainly can. Oh, the things we’ve seen and it’s only 9 in the mornin’! This is a very big day for us!”

⧫

Back at the tower, Jason has taken on an air of determination, re-tidying up a few things as the clock ticks closer to the time his mother promised their arrival.

“Alright, this is it. This is a very big day, Pascal”, he says with confidence– more of a facade to cover his shaky nerves. “I’m actually gonna do it, I’m finally gonna ask them!” he lets out a wavering breath and hypes himself up for it.

And that’s when he hears his mother’s familiar voice calling up to him from outside. “Jason! Let down your hair!”

Jason turns to the mirror and quickly fixes his outfit, wanting to look presentable and like he hadn’t been lying on the floor earlier. “Okay, it’s time, it’s time. Deep breaths Jay.” Then he turns to the robin watching him. “Go Pascal, hide! Don’t let them see you”.

“JASON! I’m not getting any younger down here!” his grandfather shouts for him from below, and the boy in question hurries over to the large window.

“Coming Grandfather!”, he calls back, throwing his hair over the large hook overhead and casting down his 70 feet of hair.

His mother is the first to be pulled up though, and once she’s through the window, kisses Jason’s forehead and wraps her arms around him in greeting, before sweeping down the hall to put her bags down in her room.

He pulls his grandfather up second and, once inside, Ra’s pats Jason’s shoulder as the boy tries to catch his breath. “Oh how you manage to do that almost everyday without fail, Hafid*, it looks absolutely exhausting”, he says as he slides the heavy, emerald-green cloak off his broad shoulders.

*(Arabic: Grandson)

“It’s nothing. Really”, Jason replies reassuringly, taking the older man’s coak and hanging it on the wall behind him.

His Grandfather sighs as he walks further into the large room. “Well then, I don’t know what takes you so long”, he laughs. And Jason tenses uncomfortably and lowers his head, promising himself he’ll do better next time, when his mother catches the look in his eye from the arch of the hallway’s entrance.

“Oh, aleaziz*”, her voice is gentle as she sweeps across the room and tilts his head back up with a sharp finger under his chin. “He’s just teasing.” she smiles up at him, warm brown eyes soft with affection as she pets through his hair.

*(Arabic: darling, dear, poppet, lamb)

“All right… so, um”, Jason starts, his mother moving to start up the fire in the large fireplace. “Tomorrow-”

His mother cuts him off before he even starts. “Close the window would you, Jay, it’s cold outside still.” Because the first day of spring was only yesterday, and Jason knows that somewhere out there, there’s still patches of ice and snow defrosting.

“Yes Mama”, he replies, and obediently moves to pull the window closed and latch it shut. “So, as you know, tomorrow is a very big day-”

“Jason, look in that mirror”, his grandfather cuts him off as he stands behind him in view of the delicately crafted object. “You know what I see?” he asks, but doesn’t seem to be looking for an answer from Jason himself.

“I see a strong, confident, handsome young man”, Ra's tells him, grinning at their reflection, and Jason smiles too, until- ”oh, look you’re here too”, he chuckles, clapping a hand over Jason’s shoulder, then moving away to take a seat on one of the lavishly furnished chairs.

Jason frowns, admittedly hurt by the egocentric remark, and turns his blue-grey eyes on his mother, who just sighs. “Don’t take it to heart habibi*, you know he only teases.”

*(Arabic: my dear)

The boy sighs back. “Yes Mama.” Talia goes back to fussing over the fire, and Jason tries to continue, “anyways, as I was trying to say before, tomorrow is-” only to be cut off again.

“Jason, please, I’m sure your Grandfather’s feeling a little run down after our trip,” Talia begins with a tired sigh, not looking up from where she keeps herself busy feeding and stoking the growing flame. “Why don’t you sing for him, Rayean? Then we can talk?” she asks almost apologetically.

And the boy knows that his mother must be exhausted from her long trip over the seas, but it still stings that Jason can’t even talk to her after she’s been gone for so long. Especially when he’s trying to talk to her regarding his birthday– which she missed last year because his Grandfather sent her away to do something that was apparently more important than him.

“Yes, Mama”, Jason replies obediently, plucking up one of his brushes from the low coffee table and sitting on the plush footstool in front of his Grandfather, handing the brush to the older man over his shoulder.

Ra’s hums in approval and Jason begins begrudgingly singing for him, watching in the mirror across the room as his Grandfather’s greying hair changes and becomes a thick, deep shade of brunette.

He watches as the wrinkles in his face smooth out into a youthful, soft skin; as his complexion grows brighter and his dull greyish-brown skin blooms with colour, becoming an even shade of golden tan. He watches as the fingers holding the large brush stop shaking, as they become firm and steady and more gentle in his glowing hair.

His mother finishes up with the fire and sighs as she sits back in the opposite chair, resting her feet up on Jason’s lap and smiling at him as he instinctively begins massaging her feet. They’re tense and Talia groans in pain when Jason presses his thumbs into the arches of her feet, causing him to wince and give her an apologetic look.

Talia’s eyes fall closed as Jason continues and he’s glad to see her relaxing, even in this short moment; she’s always so stressed about something or other, and Jason thinks she should just stay with him in the Tower and get some proper rest for once, let him look after her, instead of going away all the time.

When his Grandfather sets the brush down, Jason lets himself up, picking his mother’s feet up and gently placing them back down on the velvety footstool. He tucks the hair that’s fallen in front of her face behind her ear as he slips past her and into the kitchen.

He makes his Grandfather tea, knowing he’ll ask for it soon, and puts some of the cookies he’s made on a plate for his Mother. “So, Mama”, he starts as he re-enters the room and sets the tea and cookies down on the low table.

Talia, eyes still closed, hums in reply to let him know she’s listening.

“Earlier I was saying tomorrow’s a pretty big day… you see it’s going to be my birthday, y’know, and I-”

“No, no, no can’t be”, Ra’s cuts in with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I distinctly remember, your birthday was last year.”

Jason clenches his fists, biting down his frustration at being cut off again. “That’s the funny thing about birthdays. They’re kind of an annual thing.” he states, undertones of sarcasm sneaking into his words, and his grandfather raises a chastising eyebrow at him, challenging him to try taking that tone with him again.

Jason doesn’t take the bait and instead turns back to Talia. “Mother, I’m turning eighteen tomorrow, and I wanted to ask, what I really want for my birthday…” he starts

And that's all I have so far! Anyways, I hope you enjoyed my terrible writing lmao. Let me know if you guys want more :)

[slavghoul]

Interview from Sweden Rock Magazine 6/2023

In which Tobias talks about Phantomime, his inner little evil dictator, and why he'll never be like Bruce Springsteen, among other things.

You've just released another cover EP. I always thought that Ghost would be like Metallica and become known for picking up lesser-known songs, making them their own, and playing one or two covers at every show. You were on your way to that with first The Beatles' "Here Comes the Sun" and then with Roky Erickson's "If You Have Ghosts." After that, you released a bunch of covers, but in recent years, you've almost only played "Enter Sandman" live.

In the beginning, and especially up until 2015, the choice to play covers was not in exchange for original songs, but it was because we simply needed songs to play live. We played 'Here Comes the Sun' to fill out our set. We only had one album, and it was only 30 minutes long or something.

But "Here Comes the Sun" must have given you a taste for it since it worked so fantastically well live.

Yes, absolutely. We actually plan to play it again at some point because I think we can do a really great version of it now that our lineup better matches the sound of the song. The last time we played it was so long ago that we still used a lot of backing tracks and stuff. I think we can play it better now. But did you imagine that we would do covers of Saint Vitus, Trouble, and Coven?

No. Unlike Metallica, you didn't start with hard rock covers...

No, no.

...but with "Here Comes the Sun" and then "If You Have Ghosts," which became a big song in its own way, but "Enter Sandman" is a completely different type of cover.

Exactly, it has a completely different purpose. I think it's a good song, and it became a fun thing. There was clarity in why we played it and what was important about it. We don't do it anymore, not because we don't believe in the purpose, but it had its time. Now, "Jesus He Knows Me" is the most fun to incorporate because now we've embraced it as our own song. I feel like I have so much else, and I don't want to be... I mean, some people think it's a lot of fun, and Bruce Springsteen does a lot of covers at the end of a concert. A lot of cool rock 'n' roll classics. People enjoy it, and it's great. Disturbed also does that and plays "Highway to Hell" and "Run to the Hills" or whatever they do. It's a fun way to end a concert, but I don't know, I have a fondness for dramaturgy. That's why I could never do a Bruce Springsteen. I can't go on stage and just say, "Hey, what do you want to hear?" and then improvise. It's a show, and everything fits together tightly. I've been sitting here with our lighting technician for five days. We sit all day and just program lights based on the smallest damn beat so that it fits and so that we know that the guitarist will come out and switch to that guitar for the next song. It's this song, and he will come out there, and then we have to change these lights in the dark so that it's red on him there. Then it's not possible to have a "cover hour" at the end where we just turn on the lights and play Judas Priest. But if we do a Judas Priest cover at some point that feels really relevant and we can do it really well, then I have no problem arranging the lights and incorporating it into the context. Metallica is much more rock 'n' roll, they are much more "loose" than what we are... than I am. They have the ability to just go out and more or less turn on the lights in the room and play "Am I evil?", "Whiskey in a jar," "Blitzkrieg," and "Breadfan," and the happiest of all is me. I love when that happens, but I don't want to do it with Ghost. But sure, if in 30 years we have recorded a bunch of fun covers, maybe it could be a fun thing to do a tour with just a bunch of that.

How funny that you say "if we have recorded a bunch of fun covers." Ghost has already recorded a bunch of covers, so aren't they fun?

Haha! Yeah, yeah, but we're still building, of course. We're talking a lot about this, me and my agents and management. When is the time to do things? When should we take advantage? What is a "downplay" for us today? A "downplay" is very clear if you're Metallica. Everyone knows that when they come and perform, it's at least at the Globe Arena, sold out for at least two nights without any problem, and at their biggest, it's now two nights at Ullevi. For them, a clear "downplay" would be if they come and play at Göta Lejon again. There's a clarity there, and it's something they can indulge in.

Explain it so that people understand. What is a "downplay"?

A "downplay" is when a big band plays at a small venue. Like the Rolling Stones when they played at Circus. It's a clear "downplay," and there's a clarity there where you know that "now when I go and see the Rolling Stones at Circus, they won't have their big stage, they won't do this, and they'll just come up and play a bunch of really obscure stuff." Then there's a clarity. It's not something for everyone who just wants to hear the big hits.

And are there plans to do this?

If everything goes as planned and if there's still an interest in it in the future, I would think it would be really fun to intentionally and clearly reshape the show. To do something different on the side that isn't meant for these bigger things that we're currently trying to find our "pacing" in.

The first time I interviewed you was in 2011 at a sushi place in Stockholm.

Was it that long ago?

Yes, we met at the central station in Stockholm, and you had just had your first meeting with Nicholas Johansson at Universal, so this was before he signed you.

Okay, so it was the same day then? Oh, damn.

It became a full page in Expressen, and you said that you want to take Ghost to where Rammstein is. Now you've said the same thing again, but Rammstein no longer plays at the Globe Arena and instead does three nights at Ullevi. It feels like you're constantly shaping Ghost based on Rammstein. What will you do when you've reached three nights at Ullevi?

I hope one never becomes completely satisfied. The perfectionist in me is frustrated every day on tour when things don't turn out as good as I had envisioned. But I also have a cutoff point... There's a point every day when I try to see the glass as half full when it comes to perfection before the concert, and I know something is wrong. If I know that a spotlight operator doesn't seem to understand the show, it's an irritation that might continue during the concert because someone keeps missing their cues, that is, what they're supposed to do. You can tell they don't know the show. It's super annoying. It's the kind of thing that both I and everyone on stage feel, and we're all aware of it. Everyone has been made aware of what we're trying to achieve. We've arranged the whole show based on the idea that "when you come up those stairs, you will be visible, and then you will see what you're doing because a light will shine on you." If that doesn't happen, there's a risk that the person simply won't see what they're doing and will fall off. It happens. There's a lot of that kind of thing that's highly orchestrated with very narrow margins, and it has to be right. But I usually reach a point where it's like, "Now the concert is over. Everyone did their best, even that idiot up there who missed all their cues. Everyone did their best, and the audience doesn't seem to have left and demanded their money back, so you have to see it as a damn good result." That's how I try to approach it every day because, in the end, "no matter what, this is so much cooler than working a regular job," haha! I'm where I want to be, doing what I want to do. Then I have this little circus director Nazi inside me as well, screaming and wanting things to be a certain way. But I also laugh easily, so it's about constantly trying to balance everything and see it as always moving forward. But it also means that I know that even the day when or if we stand there at Ullevi and do a concert ourselves, it won't be exactly as I imagined. Something new will happen, and if we have the show I want, it will rain like hell or something. That's always how it is. Metallica's Lars also told me that when we were on tour together: "It's incredible. Even at our level, there are still things that happen that make us go, 'Damn, we're not quite there yet!'" But that's the thing. I don't think pirates become pirates just to come home and sit with the treasure. It was the piracy itself that was quite fun.

Now I'm going to say something provocative. This is Ghost's worst cover so far. I don't even like the original.

Which one?

"Phantom of the Opera."

Okay, haha!

Yeah, I got the laugh I wanted to be able to print, haha!

Well, haha! Don't you like the album or the song?

I'm not a big Iron Maiden fan, and I don't consider the Paul Di'Anno era sacred.

I love Iron Maiden and think the first two albums are really cool, but they got their act together when Bruce Dickinson joined. It was with "The Number of the Beast" that they became an arena band and started sounding really damn good. I know it's like swearing in church. It made me feel a bit inspired and made me think that if I were to do something with Iron Maiden, it damn well had to be something from those first albums. They have two albums with really proggy stuff and quirky arrangements, and you can really tell they had a bit of time and that they were low-budget recordings. That gets me going. Paul Di'Anno sings, and I love Paul Di'Anno. He's really cool, has a great voice, and sings with a lot of sloppiness. He soars and flies melodically - just the fact that "I know I'll do that in a different way." I've always liked "Phantom of the Opera," but for a long time in my life, before I really figured out how to count, I didn't quite understand how to play the intro. Not tonally, but I didn't get how to count in the intro. That was such a thing that one day when I suddenly figured it out, I thought, "Damn, I want to play this song someday." You miss it because on the album, you don't hear how great the intro is.

Is it you playing?

Yes, although Fredrik "Kulle" Åkesson (Opeth) is also playing. But I recorded all the demos, I play bass on the record, and I recorded all the guitars first.

Did Kulle do all the guitar solos on the EP?

Well, mostly, with one exception.

It's a very shreddy EP with a lot of flashy guitar solos.

Yes, exactly, there are quite a lot of guitar solos. Generally, this is how it works when we work: I compose the solos. When I write solos, it's not just a bunch of bends, but it's a melody. I'm very influenced by Kirk Hammett, especially how he played on "Ride the Lightning," "Master of Puppets," "...And Justice for All," and even on the black album. Every time he plays solos, they are melodies. He comes into the song and more or less plays another song within the song, and it's very hummable. It's not incredibly difficult stuff, and that's roughly my school of soloism. I like to compose the solos so that they turn out the way I want, but I myself am not a great shredder. There are a lot of tricks in the studio where I sit and play something over and over again, and then you can cut it in. And then you can slow down the speed, and then I can record it and make it perfect. But the result is that when I say, "It should go like this," Kulle listens to it and says, "Yeah, I can do that part a bit differently. Then I can do it this way to make it even faster." He plays solos from start to finish with his highly trained fingers. He has that whole thing in his DNA, while I'm more of a songwriter and composer.

But you play a solo on the EP, right?

I don't know if we kept it. I don't fucking know because we changed a lot of things.

Because you said that Kulle plays all the solos except one.

It could be a thing, but I don't remember if we changed it or not. But if we take "Phantom of the Opera," there are quite a few different guitar parts in it, purely guitar-wise. It's that fairly standardized Iron Maiden thing where there are two lead guitars playing melodies together. That's one thing, and then there was a slightly bluesy solo at a place where I added some storming Rachmaninoff piano that's absolutely not in the original. I thought it should be a bit of a stormy sea, and then there's a part with two guitars playing the same thing simultaneously, and then a solo duel starts. On the original album, it's Dave Murray and Dennis Stratton playing, and their solo duel is just okay. I don't think it's that great. Sorry, Iron Maiden fans, but in terms of solos, Iron Maiden really got good the day Adrian Smith joined. Adrian Smith is the one playing all the cool solos. I'm really sorry, Dave Murray, but that's just how it is! I know what Kulle has to go through because as a soloist, it's quite tough to constantly be told what to play, and then he has to do tricks and improve things. So, I said, "In this solo duel, you can pretty much play whatever you want from here to there, but I don't want you to challenge me because it will be a bad match. It'll be Carl Hamilton against Woody Allen, and that's not fun. We'll bring in Lasse Johansson from Candlemass." I love Candlemass, I love Lasse's guitar playing, and I know that Kulle loves Lasse. I just sat there, and they got to do their things, and you can hear that it's a bit more improvised. It's more Kulle when he gets to play his stuff, and it's nice.

I want to highlight a cover that turned out great on the EP: Tina Turner's "We Don't Need Another Hero." It feels quite suitable to cover because At The Movies also did a fantastic version of it with Ronnie Atkins on vocals.

Actually, I haven't heard it at all. I must have missed it.

Ghosts' version turned out really well, but isn't it too obvious to cover a big song, so to speak?

I would be a bit opportunistic and say this: it probably depends on how it lands. We stuck our necks out the day we were going to play "Enter Sandman" at our concert. It was one thing on TV because that's what it was (at the TV4-broadcasted "Polar Music Prize" in 2018), but you know that this is like playing "Smoke on the Water," "I Wanna Rock," or "Ace of Spades." It's one of those songs that is too well-known in a way. It can feel pancake-like, but it went well, and I feel that "We Don't Need Another Hero" could also become such a song, provided that the audience likes it. But it's not a song that you want to take up five minutes of the concert if it's not super fun.

And how do you know if the audience likes it?

The easiest way is to test it live. But you'll notice when the album comes out. If everyone mentions all the other songs and not that one, then maybe not many people are interested. Also, we usually do this sometimes during rehearsals: "We rehearse it and see how it sounds. How does it feel? How does it feel to play? Does it stick? Do we play it nicely? Does it work live?" I believe that if we fast forward to a huge presumed Ullevi [stadium] in the future, it's a fantastically cool song to play.

[puddingcatbeans]

tim gets injured and assigned to bedrest except he, on principle of being tim drake, refuses to stay in bed, so it's just an entire week of the batfam chasing him down and dragging him back to bed when they inevitably find him in the cave working on a case. i want like a bugs bunny comedy vibe like.

dick patting himself on the back for finally tucking tim back into bed, only to turn around and there's tim click-clacking away on the batcomputer again, god fucking dammit

steph straight up tries to bribe tim. he took the bribe and did not break eye contact as he rolled out of bed and stepped out of his room

damian getting titus to sit on tim and it works for half an hour, but only because tim is severely sleep deprived and he passed out for a bit

jason rolling tim into a blanket burrito and swaddling him like a baby, haha baby bird, stay put. which takes tim over an hour to get out of. tim doesn't appear in the batcave so jason thought he'd won, but only because tim was too busy fucking up jason's room as revenge

duke (smart) watched the proceedings of the above and gladly helped to open the door for tim. he'll help jailbreak the guy if it meant his electronics stayed safe, ok

bruce tries to "disappointed dad" guilt tim into staying in bed but he should know better because tim is immune by now and is caught sneaking out the fucking window

cass gets the closest to winning this terrible "the untitled tim drake" game. she guilts tim into napping with her, and it truly does work, until she wakes up to find he's dragged his laptop onto the bed somehow and has finished a whole ass report

damian, a sore loser: we should just let him loose. good riddance jason, cracking his knuckles: or i can just put him to sleep, bruce, tired: we are Not finding was to cause more harm to your brother.

in the end it's alfred that finally manages to wrangle tim the escape artist. no one knows how he did it though, the door was closed, no one can prove a thing. and, as alfred always says, a gentleman never divulges his secrets.

[eupheme]

Hi Jess! So I have some more thots about Alfred and Dove. I know you’re super busy with your other projects, but if any of these ideas give you inspiration I would love to read them. Your Alfred POV + prequel was everything I wanted and I couldn’t believe how detailed and rich your descriptions were for that chapter!! You are so talented and always come up with such great ideas! I can’t wait to see what you come up with next with these two love birds! Again use whatever you want from the ideas bellow.

1. Alfred is given a benzo (klonopin or Xanax or Valium) by the Bruce and Alfred’s doctor because he is super anxious about the first party at the new manor going well. After he takes the meds all his gentlemanly attitude goes out the window. He becomes super seductive and flirty with Dove and silly (but still sweet) party animal with everyone else. Can include Dove and Bruce loosing him for a period of time while Alfred is under the influence at the party. The amount of mischief he gets into. Bonus points for the guests not even noticing anything is wrong with Alfred and he is crowned king of the party lol and Bruce is thrilled. The party ends with Dove up against the wall with Alfred inside of her in an empty hallway.

2. Alfred and Dove are flying to meet Bruce in Europe while he is there for work. AKA mile high club on Bruce’s plane 😂

3. I would love to see Alfred jealous in person with dove. I leave the setting to you. Then dove making it up to him 😉

I can’t wait to see what you come up with!! 💕

-csboz

ahh my love!! I have been keeping this safe in my inbox (and rereading!) - I love these ideas so much 💖 sharing this now because I’ve been working on #3 for a while now (jealous!alfred omg pls I love that!!) and I should have it ready later today! Thank you so much for thinking about me and them!!

(The first one made me smile, I bet he would be so smooth and have so many moves to bust out and mischief to get into - they would both be like ?????!! watching him, haha!! and that end, omg 😳 - I will have to think about that!!) (and screaming over #2!!) 💕

[x-xsunlightx-x]

can i request yn saving daniel from a fight in a party pleasee 😭😭😭

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Thank you for the request 💜

--------------------------------------------------------------------------`

" does … stupidity...considered..a...crime “

You typed in the search bar 

“ what are you doing “

“ trying to find a reason to get everyone here arrested “ 

After one of the students from the fashion department , Daniel Park , accidently bumped into your friend’s boyfriend , all hell seemed to break loose . all people gathered around them after your friend's boyfriend threw a drink at Daniel and started screaming at him . you were planning to record them both and post about it , that was ,of course, before your friend begged you to help her stop the fight before it got any worse .

“ google wont do anything “

“ what, you want me to pull a bruce lee and go beat their asses “

“ try to get daniel out of there at least“

“ fine “

You went next to them , grabbed daniel arm and started making your way through the crowd

“ hey- “

Your friend boyfriend was about to scream at you as well but your friend quickly grabbed his arm too and dragged him to the exit 

You and daniel finally made it to the empty balcony 

“ thank you?”

“ no problem "

"am not a psychiatric , but that guy is anything but mentally stable ,its sad you met him at his worst ,i mean he is always at his worst but yea“ 

“ its okay..but I'm all wet now..”

“ here ”

You took out your hoodie and gave it to daniel , he refused to wear it at first but after few hours of you insisting he must wear it he finally did , thankfully it fit him really well 

“ it's really comfortable and i like the arrows designs behind it , thank you! “

“ you are welcome , again sorry you had to go through that traumatizing experience “  

“ haha its okay “

you looked down and realized your friend is waiting for you in her car , looks like its time for you to leave

" uh sorry i gotta go "

"oh"

daniel gave you a shy smile

“ can i have your number then? “

“ woah sir , let's stay strangers “

“  how will i return the-”

“ you can keep it “ 

" no- "

" Byee"

[buddyhead]

Return Of The Axl Rose Rating System

The Fantastical Return Of The W. Axl Rose Rating System For Record Reviews!

Due to an overwhelming popular demand Buddyhead is back reviewing records! And due to the fact that we’re a one-trick pony over here plus the number of new amazing Axl photos available on the internet, the infamous Axl Rose rating system is back as well! Buddyhead certainly couldn’t be any happier to have ol’ Billy Bruce Rose back on staff nuking all the posers out there as well as handing out congratulations when needed! This new rating system will be how Buddyhead will “grade” all of the future record reviews from now on so study the images and their descriptions below so that you know what the score is when you see an Axl icons on the reviews. So, without further ado, here are the new and improved “Axl Ratings” and how they break down…

Let’s fucking gooo!

-Buddyhead

If you’d like your record reviewed send a vinyl copy to Buddyhead 106 1/2 judge john aiso st. #413 • los angeles, ca 90012

(Legendary)

This album is legendary! It’s pretty much perfect and prefect records remind Axl of that time when he was just vibing with a dolphin at the end of the “Estranged” music video, which was right after the dolphins swam down Sunset Blvd past The Rainbow and then he just jumped off an oil tanker to swim with em’. Good times! This record transports him back to when his music video budgets were like $4 million bucks and Converse was making him custom AXL shoes. In fact Axl likes this album so much he’s actually gonna put this one right up there next to his own masterpiece, “Appetite For Destruction”. Do you know where the fuck you are?!?!?!? You’re in jungle the chilling with dolphins baby! You’re gonna diiiiiiiieeeeeeee!!!! Haha oh hell yeah!

2. (Killer)

In Axl’s opinion this album is pretty fucking killer! Kinda like how it’s pretty fucking killer that his boys Duff and Slash are finally back in the band again. Sure this could of and should of happened decades ago and now everyone’s gotta pretend to care about playing “Chinese Democracy” songs but it better than never at all. Listening to this record makes Axl forget all that tho and feel as if he’s back in his glory days between "Appetite" and "Lies", when all of his hair was actually his, Metallica fucking opened up for him and he could still pull off those killer loose mesh shirts, tight as fuck spandex bike shorts and catchers gear. Back when the worst thing people would ask was “Where’s Izzy?” Better times indeed my dudes.

3. (Pretty dope)

Axl is totally amped on this album cuz it’s giving off a vibe that reminds him of time he wore a purple sports coat to some dinner party didn’t really wanna attend and he ended up having a great time bombed out of his mind in the basement, holding a massive lobster and telling tour stories to bunch of eager normies. Sure Slash wasn’t there and neither was Duff, Izzy or Popcorn but he did have those squares on the edges of their seats. They were nestled firmly in the palm of his hand and just hanging on his every word. It was a really good party brother… Haha oh hell yeah!

4. (Good)

Axl thinks this record is pretty good and he enjoyed it kind of like how he enjoys riding his bicycle with cowboy boots. In Axl’s opinion this record definitely ain’t no Use Your Illusion II, but he would probably consider taking this band on tour and might even let them stay on the whole thing unless these dudes do something stupid… like try to make eye contact with him, try to talk to his psychic or try to prevent Axl from doing multiple wardrobe changes during his set. Axl’s party can not be stopped so don’t even try!

5. (Decent)

Axl said he was pleasantly surprised with this record and got caught off guard by how much he liked some of the tunes. They’re almost as good he looks holding this Mike McGill skateboard. And that's saying a lot! There are def some flaws on the album, so he's not sure how many repeat listens he'll give it, but he's optimistic that this band could put out good records in the future. Maybe one day they'll get to open for Guns N' Fuckin’ Roses and see Axl helicopter in.

6. (Mediocre)

This isn’t the worst album Axl’s ever heard but he knows the artist could do better and that makes him kinda mad. Honestly he’d rather be back bullying Tommy Hilfiger in the VIP area of a nightclub instead of having to listen to this slop. However, you’ll notice that hint of sadness on his face which indicates that deep down he knows this record is still better than “Chinese Democracy” not to mention his wack cover of The Rolling Stones “Sympathy For The Devil”. Reminds him of that time his actions made “yellow-jacketing” become a viral term and that shit bums him the fuck out.

7. (Bad)

Axl thought this record was BAD. He liked this crap about as much as he liked getting arrested by the pigs while they scuffed up his dripped out Versace Guns N’ Roses shirt. Axl’s not really looking to get in the ring with this band…. yet, but he’s definitely going to have his security remove them from the area if he ever sees them hanging around him. Axl liked shit about as much as he likes St. Louis or being called William Bruce Rose Jr.

8 . (Terrible)

This record is terrible, like when Axl was rocking cornrows, no eyebrows and baggy jerseys in the early 2000’s. Just an embarrassing experience for everyone involved. After checking this record out Axl threw a tantrum, smashed the hotel TV, called for his fuckin limo and took off, totally bummed that he wasted time on this bullshit. He's hoping whatever the limo's bar is stocked with will help him forget what he just heard cuz he ain't got nothing better to do, and he's bored. Axl doesn't ever wants to think about this record again! Kinda like he doesn't wanna think about how DJ Ashba was in the band for a minute or how while Buckethead was in the band he was allowed a "nunchuck-solo” or that reality show Gilby Clarke was on with Tommy Lee and Jason Newsted called Supernova.

9. (Unlistenable)

Axl thinks this record is a total piece of shit! This records makes him angry like when people think he looks like Rip Taylor or when they don’t know that Don’t Cry, November Rain and Estranged are a mother-fucking trilogy. This album is so unlistenable and it’s pissed off him so bad that he lowered his shoulder and he’s about to bull charge anyone responsible… this includes band members, producers, engineers, mixers, A&R dudes, PR, etc… GET IN THE RING MOTHERFUCKERS OR RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!

[imissthembutitwasntadisaster]

Musicians/bands I like and if I think I could beat them up - an uncomprehensive list

for @and-learn-to-let-go and @accidental-spice because they asked

Maisie Peters - absolutely not, she’s a feral girl from small-town England, women like that are like rabid ferrets.  She would absolutely murder me and then write a spectacular song about it.  I wouldn’t even try to start something with her. 

MCR - ok so the first thing to discuss here is that all four members of this band are Massive Nerds, which is of course automatically like a minus two to constitution. It’s also important to remember that at least two of them grew up apparently in rooms with basically zero natural light, which could mean childhood vitamin d deficiency, which could of course mean deeply messed up and easily broken bones.  However, on the other hand, there are four of them against me, and, crucially, at least some of them are now Dads Of Small Children.  The role of the dad is, as we all know, primarily to lift up small children and throw them bodily against soft surfaces, meaning they may well have built up some muscle mass doing that.  Is this alone enough to sway the battle against me? No.  However, alongside an ability to yeet kids, those with children will also have unlocked the “I’m not mad just disappointed” ability, which when directed at me, who does not have the best relationship with her father, would cause unbelivable psychic damage.  Thus, I must concede this battle to the band. 

If it came down to individual fights, though, I reckon I could 100% beat Mikey purely because whenever I see pictures of him for some reason my first thought is yeah I could beat up that nerd.  Toro would absolutely deck me.  I feel like for the other two it would be a more even battle but who knows. 

Taylor Swift - as mentioned, she is very tall but then again so am I, and I feel she may be a little uncoordinated (look at her not very good dancing I say this with love and huge respect).  I also feel that although she is very very intelligent she might be easy to distract through a feint, so I could probably take her. 

IDKHBTFM (a recently remembered beloved I can’t believe I forgot about them) - Dallon I could easily taken because he seems very irritable and I could literally play on that to make him lash out and loose his stance.  Ryan on the other hand would probably win, he seems somewhat more grounded and as such I would probably lose to the duo.  Tragically.

Hayley Williams - like early days Paramore warped tour Williams? I would absolutely lose.  Current Williams? I would win but at what cost to my soul???

The Oh Hellos - I could bang their heads together and they would fall down unconscious I’m sorry it’s just true. 

Marianas Trench - if Josh Ramsay didn’t take me out with his unbelievable falsetto I might have a fighting chance but honestly that feels like an unbeatable ranged weapon. 

Billy Joel - Joel would be all like “noo I’m just an old man haha just a silly little old man you wouldn’t hurt me I’m the birthday boy would you hurt a birthday boy” and I would relent and then he would go for the jugular.  I would not win against him. 

Bruce Springsteen  - Springsteen and I would be evenly matched the fight would go on for hours like some Arthurian legend eventually we would give up out of respect for each other. 

Lorde - I could absolutely destroy Lorde it wouldn’t even be a competition I’m sorry but one punch and she’s out. 

Fleetwood Mac - Ok so there are a lot of them but I would just turn them against each other and sit there as they destroy each other easy peasy. 

[crazyfreckledginger]

Jason Todd x Reader - “In The Pale Moonlight”

After a one night stand, Jason doesn’t seem to be able to get his mind off you. Desperate to get you out of his head, he hesitantly agrees to go to Wayne Enterprise with his brothers for work, as a response to scrutiny from the general public. What happens when the person he was trying to erase from his memory pops right back into his life?

Requested by anon and on Wattpad: “Can I request one where reader and one of the boys are dating but they act like they still trying to get each other so they flirt a lot and stuff even if everyone knows they’re together”/ 

“And other one where the reader is feeling herself and singing “Meet me in the pale moonlight” by Lana Del Rey in front of one of batboys and they’re like wow she cute and kiss the readeeeeeer (they’re dating and they’re teenagers)THANK YOU AND I LOVE YOU 💕” /

“haha well I have another which was that the reader is harley and Bruce's kid and she meets  batboys but jason since she knew before she left  for the first time since she was away for wayne industries business meetings”

A/N: I hope you guys don’t mind that I tweaked it a little since these requests don’t have alot of depth individually!

“I’m just here for a drink.” the girl smiled politely even though she was extremely uncomfortable. 

“I am too, can I have it with you?”

“Oh for crying out loud leave her alone, don’t be such a creep.” The man at the end of the counter groaned.

“Mind your business.” the creep gritted his teeth.

“Your disgusting aura is polluting my drink so it makes it my business.” (Y/N) watched as he stood up and walked towards the pair. Now that he was closer, the woman could see how attractive he was up close, stunning eyes, sharp jaw, tall and a streak of dyed white hair, “Fuck off will you?” 

“Who do you think you are?” 

“Sorry, I forgot a world, fuck off please.” The stranger shot the man a terrifying glare and without another word, the man studded away, like a dog with its tail between his legs. 

“Thank you mister, but if he laid a hand on me I would have sucker punched him.” 

“Mister huh?” he smirked, sitting beside her. 

“Well what’s your name then?” 

“Jason, pleasure to meet you.” 

****

“This is your place?” she hummed, fingers running through his soft hair as his lips trailed down her neck, pulling her legs around his hips.

“Mmh hmm,” 

“You rich or something?” the woman breathed out as he sucked on her skin. 

“Something like that,” he murmured, pulling away to tease her lips with his. Jason stared deeply into her eyes.

“What are you waiting for, lover boy? You brought me here.” (Y/N)’s arms hung loosely on his shoulders, occasionally touching the back of his head.

“Yes ma’am,” he smirked, hooking his hands under her legs and carrying her to his bedroom.

****

Glancing at her side to the soft breathing of the naked man beside her, she shuffled, stretching and yawning. What a night, she tried moving her legs but winced, what a night indeed. 

“Good morning princess,” his morning voice was incredibly attractive as his arm slid around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

“Mmh, good morning,” the woman squirmed in his grip as he nipped at her ear teasingly with his teeth, “what time is it?”

“You have someplace to be?” he murmured, hand caressing her naked hip.

“Yeah, I have work.”

“On a Saturday?” 

“Self employed.” 

“Nice!” 

****

A month or so later, Jason was frustratedly sitting in the meeting room, chewing on his lip in boredom as Bruce brought all of them to a meeting at Wayne Enterprise for less scrutiny from the public eye. 

“The person we will be working on for the new design is going to arrive soon so I need you all on your best behaviour.” He glared at all the boys. 

“Yeah yeah, can we just get on with it so I can leave?” The second oldest rolled his eyes. 

“Mr Wayne?” as if on queue, the person knocked on the one-way privacy film that covered every window of the room, the blurred figure waiting patiently on the other side. 

With a last scolding glance to everyone, Bruce strutted over, opening the door and smiling.

“Good morning Mr Wayne.” the woman greeted with a polite smile.

Jason’s eyes widened, and stayed that way even when he made eye contact with the girl. She responded with the same reaction, but quickly regained her composure and greeted the other boys. 

“Oh hey (Y/N),” Dick waved to his roommate, “you look great.” He flirted.

“...Um hey,” she greeted hesitantly, feeling a little uncomfortable with his usual ways in the professional setting.

“Shall we get down to business.” Bruce glared at his eldest son.

****

“You don’t have to act so grumpy.” Jason rolled his eyes as they finally arrived at their hotel in Europe after an excruciatingly long flight. 

“I’m tired, I need sleep.” Not wanting to address the elephant in the room, especially when she was this exhausted, she scurried to the bathroom to slip into comfortable pyjamas and landed right into bed, “I’m having this conversation tomorrow, good night.” 

The next day came quickly and (Y/N) opened her eyes reluctantly, wanting to melt in the comfortable double bed she was in. Discreetly, she peeked at the double bed facing her diagonally. 

The woman frowned, it was empty.

“I’m right here.” the man voiced from behind her as he exited the bathroom.

“Jason!” she screeched, “what the hell! Don’t creep up on people!” 

“Well don’t try to spy on people when they are sleeping!” he threw his damp towel to her.

“Ewwwww!” she grimaced.

“Chill, I was drying my hair with that.” he walked towards his bed, and she only now noticed that he was naked -- with a towel around his waist obviously. Steam was emitting from his skin as it glistened still.

With warm ears, she pulled the covers over her face, eyes peeking out discreetly.

“We’ve seen each other completely naked, I don’t see what the problem is, if you’re going to look, be shameless,” he moved his butt from left to right teasingly, “you can see this regularly if you want,” he chuckled.

With a sigh, she buried herself under the covers. 

“I haven’t changed my mind Jason, I’m sorry, I’m not interested in commitment at the moment.” 

She felt a weight on the bed and hesitantly took a peep out. Jason was laying on her bed, shirtless but with some underwear on.

“At least give me the benefit of the doubt for this trip.” he gave her the puppy eyes. Eying him suspiciously, she sighed.

“Alright, fine, don’t disappoint.”

****

A few months or so later into the relationship with Jason and gotten closer to his younger brothers, (Y/N) slipped on a comfortable T-shirt, watching herself in the mirror as she tidied her hair a bit and examined the hickey on her neck.

Swaying lightly from side to side to the song that was stuck in her head, she hummed softly to herself, setting out her clothes for the day.

“You don't have to give me anything

Just put your sweet kiss kiss on my lips now baby”

Walking back to the mirror, deciding on whether or not jewelry was necessary, the woman continued.

“Think about you almost all the time, all the time and-”

 “I love you so much baby,” he breathed out from the other side of the room. 

“Hmm?” she glanced in the mirror. 

“Keep singing~” 

“No,” she stuck her tongue out playfully, “are you ready?”

“Do we have to go?” Jason whined, marching up to her, slapping her ass and squeezing it before hugging her from behind, nuzzling her hair, his warm skin against her.

“Baby of course we do, we have to hide the fact that we’re together, plus they are fun, we’re all friends here.” she rubbed her butt against his hips and he bit her ear. 

“No teasing,” he whispered in her ear, turning her around and pushing her against the dresser, “or else.” 

“Or else?” the woman chuckled, “but seriously though,” her hands cupped his cheeks as he stared at her lips, “we can’t act like a couple, it’s unprofessional,” 

“Technically I don’t work at the company,” 

“And the person I’m working with is your dad.”

“Adoptive, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Just a coffee, maybe a lunch, and then we can come straight home.” 

“Mmh, okay,” he pouted, holding her tightly as she kissed his lips and pulled away. “You sing beautifully, please do it more for me.” he pouted. She chuckled, shaking her head slightly in embarrassment.

“Put a shirt on and let’s get ready, I don’t want to be late!” (Y/N) ushered, “and the sooner you’re out of here, the less anxious I’ll be that your brother unexpectedly enters his own home and sees you in it.”

When they were ready, at a somewhat reasonable time, they drove there as quickly and responsibly as possible.

“Why is your hand still on my thigh?!” (Y/N) jumped once she realised he had discreetly snaked his hand back on her thigh when he was parking the car on the side of the road, in a surprising proximity. Slapping his hand away and giving him a look, the woman slipped out of the car and walked up the stairs, ringing on the bell.

Jason scurried up beside her, slapping her butt playfully before pushing the door open. 

“Hey guys!” she grinned, not having the time to scold her boyfriend once again as she was greeted with welcoming smiles. 

“How have you been?” Dick teased, having seen her just yesterday.

After playful banter, and not-so-playful for the brothers, over a nice hot drink, a new topic came up.

“How was the party yesterday (Y/N)?” Jason inquired, knowing fully well about it but trying to seem inconspicuous, “I hope no one stole your heart, that’s for me!” … or not.

She paused, giving him an unimpressed look, reluctant to answer “It was great, and no.” 

“No what?” he smirked. Her cheeks burned, she did not like being put on the spot to lie, especially since this was incredibly unnecessary.

“No one did anything.” 

“To who-”

“This is embarrassing, we know you two are a couple,” Damian nearly gagged. 

“Huh?” (Y/N) turned to him, feeling her soul leave her body.

“How do you know?” Jason looked at him.

“It’s been a while.” Dick chuckled.

“We been knew 💅,” Tim rolled his eyes.

“Someone left someone’s underwear in an awkwardly obvious place when I came around… and you slapped her butt before you came in here, everyone saw it.” Dick explained, watching his brother.

“OH MY GOD, JASON!” 

“I didn’t- wait, how do you know that it’s her underwear???”

The eldest’s expression fell and he blushed. 

“I might have um-” 

“He accidentally came in when I was packing my bag to leave for the business meeting in France okay?” the woman spluttered. 

“You did WHAT?”

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Tagging: @lumifuer​ @ijustwantmyshipstobehappy​ @plethora-of-things @xlatinaaxx​ @lostnliterature @batette​ @schweeeppess​ @gearsinice​ @mizmahlia​ @tina8009 @disa​ @caswinchester2000​ @brooklynalpha​  @jason-todd-squad @vix360​

[lazy-alex]

FADE AWAY

Fade away

PROMPT- "light" | Day 10 | ROMANTIC

Jasonette July 2021

MASTERPOST

Jason Todd dropped everything as soon as he heard the call.

Marinette- his Marinette- is on the hospital. She was found lying on her apartment; unconscious. Her neighbor found her and called the ambulance.

She's in the ICU, in critical condition.

Jason's motorcycle can be heard speeding trough Gotham streets. He didn't care if he's breaking speed limits. He needs to be by her side right now, like how she's there when his life is dark.

Just like how her smile lights up his world everytime he seed it. Even her presence can light up a whole room. Her beautiful dark blue hair and bluebell eyes, and those tiny stars on her face.

His light to his darkness.

Jason made his motorcycle move faster.

Fuck.

He might just not see that smile again.

-

When Jason arrived at her door, he noticed that there are many people outside. From their clothing, Jason could guess that they're doctors and nurses. They seemed to be talking. Jason's footsteps interrupting their conversation.

Why the heck are there so many?

Jason approached the group of people. A doctor (or nurse?) noticed him. "Mr. Jason Harper?" he asked.

Right- Jason Todd is legally dead. Smart.

"Yea, that's me," After hearing that, almost all of them deflated. Jason raised his eyebrows, secretly worried on the problem. "What's wrong with her?"

They all looked into each other, deciding what to say.

One short female stepped forward to answer his question. "We tried everything we could. We couldn't find the reason." She lowered her head, refusing to look into his eyes. "We don't know."

"What do you mean you don't fucking know?!" Jason shouted, anger in his voice. They flinched away in fear.

"Jason," a hand rested on his shoulder. Jason turned around to be faced with Dr. Leslie. Jason calmed a little bit to the familiar face. "why don't we go inside?"

Jason nodded, wanting to see his girlfriend.

-

The room is dark, Jason observed as he stepped inside. The only light source is a small lamp beside her bed and the window.

Marinette's sleeping figure lay on the bed; a bunch of tubes connected to her body. The machines helping and monitoring her have slight beeping noises.

Jason's heart hurt at the sight. His features immediately soften at the sight of his pixie.

"Jason," he turned around at the call of his name. His eyes met the sad ones of Leslie's. "I know you're not going to like this, so I'm gonna be straightforward. Jason, she's only got a few hours to live. I'm sorry."

Tears started to form in Jason's eyes, he pushed them back. He slowly moved towards her.

"No..." Not my Pixie... Not my light..

Leslie went to the door. "I'll leave her with you," A click sounded in the room; indicating that the door is shut.

"Mari... Pixie..." He whispered as he sat on her bedside; stroking her hair.

Marinette opened her beautiful bluebell eyes. "Mhhmm... Jay?"

"Shhh.. I got you," Jason kissed the back of her hand while holding it.

"You're crying." She pointed her finger to the tears on his cheek. Marinette tried to wipe it; but she didn't have the energy to do it.

Jason just wiped it himself and shook his head. "And you're fucking dying."

Marinette just smiled sadly. "I know,"

"Why didn't you tell me Pixie?"

"You didn't ask," he did. Plenty of times, but she always said she's fine. Jason knew she was lying. But he also knew Marinette wouldn't do it without a reason. So he let it slide.

He wished he didn't.

"Mari- tell me what's wrong." Marinette just looked away.

"It's not like I'm important anyway,"

He softened at her words, "You are important to me Mari- Heck- You're important to everyone." He paused. "So please, please tell me what's wrong."

Marinette turned to face him; tears are falling onto her cheeks.

"I knew this was coming Jay," she sobbed. "I- I knew this day would come, so I tried not to get attached," she laughed lifelessly. "But look at us now. I can't go, not now. I can't leave you Jay..."

At this point both of them are sobbing.

"Then tell me how to fix this, I'm sure Bruce can find a way!" Jason held her hand and squeezed it. "Pixie, please, tell me there's a way..."

Marinette just shook her head, "There's none, this is a price for something I did. The Miraculous is all about balance, we can't stop this. Even if we do find a way, fate will find more ways to fix the balance. Chances are high that it will be worse than this, I- I can't let that happen Jay..."

"Fuck Mari-" Jason put his hands to his face. "-now I can't stop crying."

Marinette laughed, a sad laugh.

-

The room became silent after that. It was them savoring each other's presence. They know that they couldn't do anything. They couldn't fight fate. They just need to face it. Jason didn't know if he could survive this; her gone. He needed her, just like how she needed him. He doesn't want to loose his light.

It was Marinette that broke the silence.

"I know you Jay, you can get trough this," she laid her hand on top of his. "You are the strongest person I know."

Jason just looked at her, so she continued talking.

"Don't give up even when I'm gone. I will always be in your memories. Make sure to treasure them," Jason laughed at her statement. She just smiled. "I want you to think that I never left your side, a part of me will stay forever in you. I don't want you to turn off the fire when there's still fuel left."

"I wont." she nodded.

"Be happy Jay, don't stop because of me." she took a deep breath. "Promise me Jay, that you'll keep living. That you won't stop."

Jason poured all his feelings in these few words. "I promise, with all my heart." he meant it.

Marinette smiled, a genuine smile. It seemed to make the dark room a little bit brighter.

"Good,"

And with those last words, Jason saw the light fade from her eyes.

-

Oops! Got a little longer than intended. (Seriously, this was supposed to be 300+ words. How the heck did it turn into 1012 words?) I really enjoyed making this. I've been planning this for a long time. And I loved writing this.

How it turned into angst: *me finding a sad song and replaying it on loop*

@jasonette-july-event

(Late post haha, blame the almost 24hour no electricity. My battery died after my last post. ;-; )

[nincompoopydoo]

PINING, BAGELS, REPEAT.

— WHEN THE DRINKING'S DONE ; PART 6 / ?

( gif from this gifset by @jascontodd )

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

SUMMARY: Sunday night dinner with your mother doesn’t go as planned when Bruce shows up unexpectedly at your door and you both know how your mother really loves him alot.

A/N: Slow and kinda long-winded chapter again haha. I used to be the kind of person who couldn’t write long stuff. Now look at me. Who is she??? Enjoy this one yall. Probably one or two more chapters to go, depends on how much I can write <3

WARNINGS: Swearing, alcohol. I write about what I feel and they are very real. So if you find these things triggering, please do not read this.

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

Sunday night. You’re in an apron, flushed from the heat of the stove. You’ve just poured a glass of wine for your mother, but she doesn’t drink it—too busy walking around your apartment, clearing your stuff as she criticizes your lack of cleanliness and organization. Grading papers during exam season keeps you busy. Needless to say, you don’t have the time to clean your goddamn house.

You still love her anyway.

You’re at the sink, purple-stained fingers from peeling the tunic of the red onions are under running water when there is a knock on your door. It’s deafening, rapid, and agitating. You’ve just spilled boiling water onto your hand and you really don’t need another problem to come charging at your front door. Literally.

Moving out of the kitchen with haste, you call out over your shoulder to your mother to quit rearranging with bits and bobs of stationary and papers because yes, it’s messy but you know exactly where everything is. The knocking doesn’t cease, and your annoyance aggravates further. You’re gonna have to punch someone or something if it doesn’t stop.

You aggressively pushed the barrel of the bolt lock, swinging the door open as the strands of your wild hair flew backward in the sudden blow of air.

All forms of anger and agitation disappear as soon as your gaze meets the flushed face of none other than Bruce fucking Wayne, dressed in a grey dress vest, tie hanging loosely a pristine white shirt, and an ebony tweed overcoat. This feels like deja vu. Your expression goes through a series of mixed emotions, mostly confusion, when it morphed into a guise of embarrassment, cheeks even redder. “Don’t tell me I texted you by accident again?” He blinks, seemingly as bewildered as you are. “What? No, no. No. I—” His sentence is cut short when he takes a moment to catch his breath. Your brows are frowning even deeper than before. “Did you run here or something? And what are you doing here anyway?”

Bruce shifts in his stance, a palm against the door frame, shaking his head. He feels small under your interrogative stare. “No, I came here to see you…” he trails off, eyes shamelessly skirting across your figure. He just now notices that it may be a bad time for him to turn up, and you’re hit with the realization you’re in a ratty apron, very red and very sweaty. You’re right. It is deja vu because why are you always a mess when Bruce shows up at your front door unannounced? You abruptly pull the apron over your head, hurling it behind the door, hands palming the frizz of your hair into a somewhat presentable look.

“Look, I need to talk you—”

“Honey! Who’s at the door?” He’s being cut off mid-sentence again. This time, by your mother’s voice from the living room. Your eyes are wide again—so are his.

Your mother’s fondness for Bruce is an understatement. Obsession is a better word. She had only met him once, and that was six years ago but the conceptualization of being somewhat related to an exceptionally handsome and successful man had gotten to her head all those years ago. Hell, she loves him more than she loves you. Your mother—A woman who wishes to call your best friend ‘son’ with a whole lot of love to give. If she discovers Bruce is here, at your doorstep, she will never let go. Never. And you both know it. There’s a silent understanding that travels between the two of you and the look you’re giving him tells only one thing—Run before it’s too late.

“Bruce Wayne as I live and breathe...”

Well, too late.

A small-statured lady stands on the farther side of the hallway, face lit up with sheer joy and excitement as if she had just won a lottery. She approaches him with arms open wide and soon, her hands are laid on his cheeks, examining the man’s face carefully. Bruce just stands there, stiff as a rock, unsure of how to regain his composure from all the adrenaline of wanting to see you now that he was in such close proximity to the woman who raised you. When it’s you, he tends to struggle with timing and it’s partly the reason he has never managed to act on his feelings for you. For the longest time, he has wanted to be more than friends or whatever the hell this was. He had been hesitant but now, he’s very sure.

Sometimes it feels like it's the right person but the wrong time. He doesn’t want it to be that way. He wants to make things right with you.

And there he was, being squished under the grasp of the lady that loves him very much.

He catches your gaze; you flash him a sympathetic smile as you mouth the word “sorry.” Bruce arches his brows, indicating he has no idea what to do or how to get out of this situation.

“You’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you!” the older woman exclaims, a hand now firmly on his shoulder, the other brushing away his long strands of hair from his face with affection. Bruce would never admit it; he likes the attention your mother gives to him—the touch of a mother. Something he longs for.

“Why don’t you come in and join us for dinner? There's more than enough food.”

Crap, you should have known that question was bound to be mentioned. You’re not convinced that you will be able to suppress your emotional heartburn and the idea of Bruce tasting the dishes you’re cooking, it’s making your palms sweat. But what the hell. You shouldn’t be this nervous around him, you’ve known each other for years. He has seen you at your worst and vice versa.

Still, you’ll like to avoid the predicament of a dinner table set for you, your mother, and the man you secretly love. You’re quick with an answer. “Oh, I’m sure he has other important things to do. Bruce is very busy—”

“I’ll be happy to. I have no plans for tonight after all.”

You stare at Bruce, eyes glimmering with shock and betrayal—he is supposed to be on your side. He simply sends you a swift wink, and you feel the growing and most likely apparent deep red of your already flushed cheeks. You glance away to face your mother, eye crinkling in hopes of concealing the effect he has on you. Well, at least your mother looks fucking overjoyed. Maybe the night won’t end in disappointment.

-

The scent of chicken and spice whiffs through the air from the dishes of chicken and chorizo paella you’ve managed to whip up in a quick thirty minutes—a recipe you came by in an article titled “Fancy dishes for lazy cooks.” Well, it’s certainly working; everyone looks pleasantly surprised when you emerge from the kitchen with a cast-iron skillet within your kitchen gloved-grasp.

Happiness is the sound of the clinking of cutlery against nearly empty smeared plates, the splash of wine cascading from the bottle you held into the glasses of your guests, and the occasional laughter that erupts from your mother as Bruce tries to make a joke through mouthfuls of paella. A symphony of contentment and comfort, composed and orchestrated by the two most significant individuals in your life. Beauty is made anywhere beautiful people are; in this space, cramped up at the beech wooden table made for one by the casement window that overlooks the apartment across yours.

This side of Bruce—where boyish smiles were manifested and hearty laughs arising from the belly—is the side you miss the most. Years ago, things felt simpler though your past self would deny that notion as human life continues to become more intricate as we grow older and our eyes see more. Innocence to maturity. Happiness to grief. But, the complexity of this warfare between the brain and the heart seems to reside in perpetual darkness, no light at the end of the tunnel. For a long time, you thought deciding to be alone could eventually bring peace to the madness but maybe, you’ve been with the wrong people this whole time. It’s your reflection against the window pane that shows the evident crinkle in your eyes and the constant upward in the curve of your lips even though it contrasts the gloomy hues of blue from the sky at twilight—you’re happy.

It’s the way your mother leans over and wipes off the bits of rice from the corner of your mouth and the exchange of awkward smiles when Bruce accidentally brushes his hand against yours when reaching for the fork. This is what you want. And maybe, just maybe, you deserve to not be alone.

“So, have you decided on who you’re taking to the wedding?”

Your mother’s voice hauls you back from your daydream. She gives you a knowing look, discretely glancing towards Bruce on the other end of the table. She knows you don’t have a date, and you know she wants you to bring Bruce. You feel your anxiety creep back in.

This is weirdly the second time you’re in this situation.

“I don’t know yet...” In times like this, you wonder if your mother wields some sort of magical ability of truth or something because no matter how much you try, you can never lie to her. And now, you wish the ground would collapse and swallow you up. You know she means well, but oh my God, Bruce is staring at you and you don’t know what to do with your hands anymore.

“Wedding?” Bruce chirps with a questioning brow as he glances between you and your mother. Now, you’re forced to explain for the sake of context. “My cousin’s getting married next week and mom here wants me to bring a date.” Your mother’s expression indicates that you’re lying through your teeth. Yet in reality, it’s not technically a lie if you’re leaving parts of reason out of the explanation because it’s true she wants you to bring a date but you don’t mention how you don’t want to go alone because weddings make you sad.

It sounds pathetic.

Bruce just nods, taking a sip of his wine. The fact he’s not saying anything is making you anxious. You thought you didn’t want him to be your date but now, maybe you do. These feelings are messing up your brain. It’s just mush now, and there’s no cure.

These are the times you want to say “Fuck you, Bruce” but in the nicest way possible.

“Why don’t you bring Bruce?”

She was direct as they come but is mostly tired of your lack of initiative and doubt. I mean, it’s not like you’re asking him to marry you, right? And honestly, you’re kind of relieved you didn’t have to be one to do it but you can’t keep depending on her to do all the heavy lifting for you. You’re not a teenager anymore. You’re a goddamn grown adult.

Nevertheless, you peer at his reaction to this from the corner of your eye, fully expecting some sort of a resting jaded expression or eyes wide in horror but he’s just looking at you...with that look—highly bewildered and almost seems to be entertained by your embarrassment. Despite the purse of his lips, you manage to catch sight of the slight impish tuck of his lips.

He thinks it's the wine, but he isn’t exactly sure.

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

-

“Are you sure about this?” you cross your arms, as you watch Bruce shrug on his coat from the rack. The two of you are squeezed in the entryway of your apartment, huddling in hushed conversation. “About what?” he asks absentmindedly when in reality, he knows exactly what you’re referring to. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, it’s an excuse to be around you longer. You purse your lips, shifting in your stance, eyes flickering away from his gaze. “About coming to the wedding,” you say it slowly, carefully, like you’re afraid to and you’re not sure why. He nods with the furrow of his brows, tugging his hands into the pockets of his ebony tweed coat. “I’m sure...Unless you don’t want me to come—”

“No, no. God, of course, I want you to come,” you stop, realizing how your sudden outburst of excitement must have made you seem desperate. You clear your throat, feet shifting once more. “I don’t want to pull you off work just because I don’t want to be alone.”

He raises his brows, nearing a little closer to you. “So that’s the real reason?” A hint of a smile—it’s a teasing one. You simply throw a fist to his arm yet unable to stifle your growing smile. “Don’t be a jerk.”

Bruce winces followed by a laugh that comes out more light a puff of air as he bares his palms in a gesture of surrender. “Hey, I didn’t say anything.”

Maybe, it’s the walls of this hallway, covered with hung framed photographs of family, childhood, and friends because it’s starting to feel warm. You think it’s the way his eyes light up when you laugh, radiating a sort of comforting warmth on this cold night. It feels like home. Bruce feels like home. You notice the prominent stain of your mother’s lipstick on his left cheek. You bring one hand to rest on the curve of his cheekbone, thumb trying to efface the smeared stain away.

You’re not sure if it's the smell of his deodorant or the sudden sense of his breath on your skin that made you comprehend the closing gap between your face and his. In an instant, your hand jerks away and returns to your side, clenching to a fist. Bruce clears his throat, bringing a hand up to scratch the growing stubble at his jaw. The touch of your fingers lingers like a burn.

Recognizing the tension in the air, you decide to avert your thoughts back to the conversation you were having in the first place. “You know, you don’t have to come. Really. You’ve done a lot for me, and you know that.”

“Yes...but I’ll always have your back no matter what.”

He smiles at you. The kind that reaches his eyes. He looks younger like this.

“And I’ll always have yours, Bruce.”

You’re an idiot. He’s an idiot. You’re just two idiots, standing in the hallway with hearts that feel like they’re about to explode. Despite the lingering tension in the air that’s still present, you bring him into an embrace. It feels natural, your arms around his shoulder and his on the small of your back. “Thanks for everything. Especially for making my mom really happy.” you punctuate your sentence with a gentle caress to the back where his shoulders meet. You hear the muffled sound of his laugh, feeling the rumble of his chest against yours as you try not to squirm at the brush of his unshaven chin against the curve of your neck. “No problem,” he mumbles before pulling away.

“And you need a shave.” You’re pointing to his chin and he finds himself scratching it again. He merely hums in response.

Swinging the door open while you wave him goodbye feels like a part of you is leaving. You’re not sure why you’re feeling this newly found emptiness in you when you know you’ll see him next week. You decide to blame the wine. It’s easier that way.

He’s walking away, already out of view when you decide you should really say something at least.

“Bruce,” you suddenly call out; he turns on his heels and backtracks a little too eager to face you at the doorway. “What was it you wanted to talk about?” He frowns in response, head tilting in a questioning manner. “When you came here, you said you needed to talk.”

He recalls the real reason he was here in the first place. Rushing to your door like you’re about to disappear any minute. Yet, you’re here, still at the doorway, three hours later. Fuck, he was about to confess.

Bad timing. Again.

Right person, wrong time.

No. He’ll make it right. Just, not now.

“I was...going to thank you for the bagels; Asiago. Nice choice.” Is what he says instead of reciting the words that had been running through his head in rehearsal since the drive to your apartment. He ignores the way your shoulders sag, perhaps in relief—he doesn’t want to know. He ignores the burning in his chest when you nod, the corners of your mouth tugging into a faint smile as you raise a palm in a somewhat solemn wave of farewell. He ignores the sting in his eyes when the door closes on him, symbolizing finality when he really doesn’t want it to end. Left alone in the dismal light of the hallway; it acts as a poignant reminder of his bereavement and how much of his consolation depends on your presence.

When the drinking's done, does it make it any easier for him to open himself up to you?

Bruce allows himself to cry once he pulls the car door to a close because he feels overwhelmed by the conflicting thoughts that continue to reside in his mind. The regrets, the what-ifs, and the should-haves. He forgets himself sometimes because he gets so lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t recognize himself anymore.

You keep him grounded. You remind him who Bruce Wayne truly is.

He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the rearview mirror.

You’re right. He does need a shave.

TAGLIST:

@raineeace

[anothertimdrakestan]

Dying In The Batboys Arms

reqs: "do you write dark stuff like the boys reaction to the reader dying??? i love your blog btw!" & "Hi could I get some a n g s t"

sooo i'm terrible at angst or anything involving sadness because i ~fall apart~ and give up but for you two i tried my best haha and went for a HC cuz it's easier right? anyways hope you enjoy i cried like twice while writing this but i'm a weak bitch so i had to end them all decently to sleep alright tonight oops

Damian Wayne:

- damian would never let you die, so this would have to be you fulfilling some kind of deal or something unavoidable like yeeting into the speed force or something

- rushing to his embrace one last time and throwing your arms around him

- feeling him shake in your embrace as he whispers "please don't go beloved" and "ill never forget you" reducing you to tears as well

- your last kiss is salty and desprate, like he's trying to remember every moment, every feeling of you

- telling him it's not his fault and that he'll need to move on, but he's too busy promising to find you and save you even if there truly is no hope

- when you leave his eyes are the last thing you see, they were always your favorite and after years of looking at them it felt fitting they'd be the last earthly thing you saw

- as soon as you're gone damian isn't leaving the spot for weeks

- he's basically camped out, hair grown out, cheeks permanently stained as everytime he thinks of you he's crying again- making up for all the tears he held in his whole life

- jon is the only person he'll speak to, and even in that his words are softer than they'd ever been, damian would be to broken to hold his regular facade

- eventually jon coaxes him to return, seeing your belongings unmoved for months

- he'd almost undeniably quit robin, taking up a nickname you called him or wearing a suit in your favorite color, his only driving force after losing you will be the hope you had in him, he tells himself that even in death you're still watching over him forever... it may bit be true but it's the only thing that gives him a reason to keep living and not try to join you

Tim Drake:

- coughing up blood you'd search frantically for tim until he was at your side, crying uncontrollably as he tried to push away your hair matted with blood

- "hey timbers i don't think i'm gonna make it outta this one" you whispered, your hand reaching up to caress tim's cheek, wiping away the tears

- "no, stay with me help is coming i'm right here!" he'd scream spamming the 911 button on his suit as you shook your head "i might be dying but i'm not stupid" his eyes softened at the light smile that traced the lips he loved to kiss

- pulling him down to whisper everything you needed to say all he'd be able to get out it "i can't keep going if you leave me"

- squeezing his hand with every last ounce of strength you reminded him "it's not goodbye timmy it's a see you later, right?" with a soft nod he looked at you, eyes still brimming with tears

- "i've always been so proud of you timbers, don't stop now. see you later okay? i love you" the last words were strangled, but you had to give him something to hang on to as you let go, fading into the pain

- "see you soon y/n l/n ill love you always" were the last words to grace your ears, fading into a dull white noise as you slipped into peaceful bliss, tim's fsvorite soft smile permanent on your lips

- his family found him clutching your limp body, rocking back and forth promising to make you proud, repeated pushing your hair behind your ears because he knows you hate having hair fall in your face

- the strangled noises leaving his families throats as they realized what happened didn't help, neither did dick falling to the ground next to him, and steph bawling into jason's chest. duke had softly grabbed damians hand, both staring at the sky praying to whom ever was listening while bruce pulled tim up and into an embrace

- carefully the family left, one member- and a huge piece of their heart missing. broken at the scene.

- tim threw himself into work, determined to make you proud- but his family would catch him sitting in front of the small, supposedly secret, shrine he'd made in his closet for you, if damian presses his ear to his closet wall he could hear tim softly telling you about his day and what he did that would make you laugh

- months later he seemed calmer, no one could figure it out until dick took the time to ask. tim didn't say much but he held up his left hand ring finger and in a writing dick hadn't seen in months, the perfectly messy scribbles tattooed on his hand said "see you later timmy"

Jason Todd:

- seeing you minutes from death would send jason into shock, unable to move other than sinking to his knees next to you as you groaned with pain

- "at least hold me while a go jaybird" you mumbled through the blood trying to fill your throat. quickly he'd wrap his arms around you

- jason's embrace was comforting as always, you tried to memorize the way the scars landed on your abdomen and his calloused hands tentatively held you like you could break at any wrong move- i guess he was right this time

- "just hold on babe" jason was never good with words was he? with the last ounces of strength you cupped his cheek, bringing his head down to yours "stop talking and kiss me one last time" you whispered

- jason's hands fell to their usual position, one keeping you upright by holding your lower back, his rough hands creating perfect friction with your smooth skin, his other secured to the back of your head, lightly tugging on loose strands of your hair, it was like a puzzle piece fitting together, you melded perfectly to his lips

- the kiss was slow and loving, taking a moment you deepened it just to burn the memory of his passion into your brain before returning back to his loving and slow kisses

- you realized you were crying into the kiss when his rough finger swiped away tears, his lips never leaving yours

- pulling apart to breath and cough jason clung to you "please hold on please" you gave him a sad smile "it's okay jaybird i'm last where the pain hurts that means it's coming soon" you whispered, your hand still on his cheek, feeling the light stubble you always thought was so sexy

- "i love you jason todd, but i've never lied to you and i'm not starting now, this is goodbye babe" you told him bluntly, his face contorting as he pulled you back into his chest "no no no no" were the only words he could think of "i love you jay, it's okay baby" you pulled his lips back to yours until you felt the pain incoming

- "i don't think i've got much longer. hold me?" you looked up to jason who was pushing away tears

- "always" he replied, clutching you to his heaving chest as you snuggled into his embrace, you were sad this would be the last time you got to feel his heartbeat and chest rise and fall, you loved the feeling and knew you'd never forget it, even in death

- "y/n? babe? no" jason realized you were gone, and he lost it, screaming at the universe for taking the one good thing, crying like he promised he'd never, and punching almost everything within a 5 foot range

- his family found him bloody and broken, clutching your lifeless body as he tried to wrap him mind around what happened, he might never get better, the memory of your loss burned too deep and scarred too hard, but if he truly understood your love for him he'd use that love he had for you to drive it towards good, fighting for whatever you believed in most as an homage to you, hoping that when he next saw you he'd get to remember the feeling of you throwing your arms around him like you always did when he did something you were proud of, that desire was the only thing keeping him going

Dick Grayson:

- imagine an impending death with dick grayson, maybe it's a medical diagnosis and hope has run out, or a known death date, whatever it maybe- i think only dick would be a character strong enough to stay by your side through it all

- when it just became too hard to go on you and dock both knew what was coming

- he took weeks off nightwing duties, traveling the world and falling deeper in love, eloping somewhere deep in europe to solidify your love eternally no matter where either of you were

- the day it was finally time you were wrapped up in his clothes, your favorite hoodie and sweatpants that smelled of the warm vanilla toasted marshmallow smell you fell in love with

- you'd catch dick swiping away rogue tears all day, trying to make the most of your time together

- as the final hour ticked down you both let everything off your chests, not that there was really anything left

- nestling himself one the crook of your shoulder you inhaled the warm comfortable scent, willing yourself to never forget it when he whispered "i'm not ready to let you go yet" and it broke the both of you, sobbing into each other's shoulders as time stopped

- feeling death begin creeping in you were curled up in dick's embracing, having said your goodbyes to loved ones, damian especially heart broken he was clutching one of your sweatshirts, one day he'd grow out of it but you assumed by then he'd be over the loss

- "does- do you hurt?" dick asked softly as you soaked in his embrace, feeling his tears roll down your touching cheeks

- "it's not scary when you're here dickie" you whispered, pulling his lips in for one last kiss, as you began drifting away you shifted to rest on his collar bone, inhaling the vanilla scent that had been your rock for years, you were glad it would be the last thing you remembered, the best sendoff you could ask for

- dick watched you exhale your last breath peacefully, part of him was glad your pain was over, but that didn't stop the sobs from escaping

- damian crept in, still clinging to your sweatshirt, hopping up into dick's lap, nestled between you and dick, he'd only done it a couple times but he needed it almost as much as dick this time

- and the two held you together, more family members came and went but damian and dick held your vigil, together they helped each other get up and live, falling into a routine of sitting in the same position, your sweatshirt held in their lap, occasionally they'd raise it and take a trip down memory lane with your familiar smell still lingering on the sweatshirt, and that was all they had of you, but now they had each other. and that would have to do until they saw you again

[savedbystyle]

right where you left me (s.s)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Steve Rogers x Peggy Carter

Warnings: just a bit of angst haha

Summary: After Endgame, Steve found himself having to return the stones. Gathered around the transporter, you were unaware that that was the last time you would see the love of your life. 

A/N: Thought of this prompt today and thought I would write on it! I hope you guys enjoy, please like and reblog it it would mean a lot to me. 

Friends break up, friends get married Strangers get born, strangers get buried Trends change, rumors fly through new skies But I'm right where you left me

You were walking with Steve, Bucky, and Sam to the transporter where you meet Bruce. Surrounded by tall trees and a peaceful sense of quiet, you found yourself calm and happy. You look up to see Steve looking off in the distant, lost in thought. 

“Hey, you okay? Don’t worry, just take put stones back and come home to me” You tell him whilst rubbing his arm comfortingly. He always seemed to calm down, but today he was on edge. You brushed it off thinking it was because he had to go back in time, this time without his partner. 

“Yeah doll, I’ll always come home to you, forever and always. Even more now that you have that ring on your finger again” Steve said with a small smile gracing his face. He looks down at you a little longer before his eyes start to tear up; “I missed you so much, those five years were hell without you”

You put your hands delicately on his face and kissed him. Breaking away you told him “I’m here now darling, and that's all that matters” He smiles at you before giving you on last kiss and moving on to talk with Bucky and Sam leaving you with a smile and hands crossed. 

Matches burn after the other Pages turn and stick to each other Wages earned and lessons learned But I, I'm right where you left me

You watch Steve and Bucky talk for a little and you smile, grateful for your fiancé to have his best friend. You heard murmurs of the familiar words of ‘till the end of the line’ uttered between the two, laughing at their hundred year old antics. You watch Steve step up onto the transporter, giving a quick nod to the two before looking at you with clouded eyes you couldn’t decipher and mouthing ‘forever and always’. You smiled mouthing it back playing with the necklace he gave for your two year anniversary. 

“Alright, it’s gonna be real quick for you Steve. You take however long you want and for us it will be a second. Come right back okay” Bruce told Steve. “Thank you Bruce” He said before looking back ahead. 

“Alright, navigating jump point in 3... 2... and jump. Okay bringing him back in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...” You wait for Steve to reappear, only for nothing to happen. “Where is he?” You hear Sam getting scared getting a little nervous yourself, “I’m trying to bring him back okay? Lets try again... It’s not working” “What do you mean it’s not working” The two bicker only causing your throat to close up in fright wondering where your fiancé is. 

Help, I'm still at the restaurant Still sitting in a corner I haunt Cross-legged in the dim light They say, "What a sad sight" I, I swear you could hear a hair pin drop Right when I felt the moment stop Glass shattered on the white cloth Everybody moved on

You look to your side seeing Bucky let out a small laugh and walk away. Eyes clouded with tears you call out “Buck, what's going on?” He looks at you with pity and his eyes flicker down to the diamond ring sitting on your finger. Letting out a sigh he says “Let’s go home doll” You walk away trying not to cry right then and there until you hear Bucky call to Sam. You stop walking and look up to see an old man sitting on a bench overlooking the lake. 

Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? Time went on for everybody else, she won't know it She's still 23 inside her fantasy How it was supposed to be Did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion? Break-ups happen every day, you don't have to lose it She's still 23 inside her fantasy And you're sitting in front of me

“No, no, no” You let out a strangled tear filled cry. “This cannot be happening, I-” You drop to your knees unable to believe that Steve left you for Peggy. You knew that he loved her still, but you couldn’t believe that he loved her more than he loved you. 

You, who was there when Tony and him fought and he was heartbroken at the thought of leaving his best friend behind. You, who went on the run with him pleading your life to him telling him that you would stay with him and love him ‘forever and always’. You, who he spent multiple sleepless nights with, worshiping each others body and marking it as your territory. You, who he proposed to telling you that he would always come home to you because you were home. You, who he left at the transporter, cold and collecting dust. 

I, I stayed there Dust collected on my pinned-up hair I'm sure that you got a wife out there Kids and Christmas, but I'm unaware

You pick yourself up and dust the dirt off your knees with tears pouring out of your eyes. Now you were unable to contain yourself in front of your friends who have only ever seen you as strong willed and sarcastic, but you could care less. All you could see was your Steve, if you could call him that, with gray hair and old age sitting in front of you. 

You walk over to him and listen to his conversation with Sam. “So did something go wrong or did something go right?” “Something went right”. Those three words shattered you more than you could explain. You stood there like a ghost, humiliated and embarrassed. Waiting a little longer, you noticed the sun glint off of silver that graced his hand. Wincing and letting a couple more tears out, you knew that that was a wedding band. Not the one that you two wore, a new one that showed years of love and memories. Love and memories of his life with Peggy and his kids, the birthdays and christmases that were supposed to be something you two shared. 

Cause I'm right where I cause no harm, mind my business If our love died young, I can't bear witness And it's been so long But if you ever think you got it wrong

After Sam walked away, you gather the courage and look up at Bucky getting a small smile of encouragement. You noticed he moved a little giving you space to sit next to him. You sat next to him and looked out on the lake. With a rush of adrenaline you asked him, “When did you stop loving me?” “Never” he instantly replied. You turned to look at him noticing that he was already looking at you. You noticed his visible aging, he now had wrinkles around his eyes and smile lines around his mouth but he was still as beautiful as he was 2 minutes ago. 

“Don’t lie Steve, you wouldn't have left if you still remotely cared” You laughed bitterly and told him. Looking at him gave you a distaste that you never thought would happen. “Doll I still did love you, I just couldn't bear to live without Peggy. She was the only one to truly love me for me” Your heart broke at his words.

“So I didn’t love you? Was I lying when I told you that in my mind there was a string tying me to you? When I told you that I would die for you? When I told you countless times that you were it for me? I guess it was, Steve. I guess I did lie because I don't love you, I absolutely despise you” 

You took the ring off of your finger and dropped it on his lap. “Even though I lied, you tricked me. You told me things that turned out to be a hoax and that is much worse than a lie. Especially coming from you Steve” You stood up walking away when he called for you, “Doll...” You turn around to see him getting up with a sad expression as he looked at you as if begging for you to tell him its okay so he didn’t face the consequences. 

“Loose the nickname Rogers” You snapped “You can't beg for forgiveness when even you know you don’t deserve it. I guess Tony was right about you, you really are nothing but a liar” You walked away from him through the tall trees and woods that surrounded you, hoping you conveyed that you were beyond enraged with his lies, but deep down you knew your heart would always be his. And if he really wanted to find you, you would be right where he left you. 

I'm right where you left me You left me no, oh, you left me no You left me no choice but to stay here forever You left me You left me no, oh, you left me no You left me no choice but to stay here forever

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

AHHH GUYS! I really hope you enjoyed this one! I had so much fun writing it :D pls leave comments on what you think and like reblog pls its MUCH appreciated

[starkatana]

All You Need to Know

Jason Todd X Female Reader

WordCount: 2813 (it’s long!~)

Summary: Jason proposes to you and you two have a smaller wedding with the BatFam in attendance at your Vegas wedding.

Author’s note: So, here begins my various one-shots of Jason Todd/Red Hood x Reader//y/n AKA my current obsession. I may compile all of them into chronological order once everything is done. I just really wanted to write and post something. I just have too many WIP’s right now that I need to focus on.

They aren’t exact ages. This is just a world that I made using these characters because I can. In this AU, Jason has died and come back to life. You two broke up and you dated Peter Parker (Spider-Man) for a little bit. At this point, you and Jason are 24-ish?

You are a dancer who works at a dance studio.

Sorry if its a little out of character, this is just based on my knowledge that tumblr has given me.

I used this post from fandomneeds!

Jason’s vows is the song: All You Need to Know by Gryffin

Hope you enjoy!

Jason scratched his head and crumpled up the vows he was working on.

“Ugh.”

Roy peeked into Jay’s room, “Having a hard time?” He cocked a sarcastic smile at his best friend.

“Fuck. Every time I try to write something it seems just so stupid and cookie cutter.”

“Aren’t those what vows are? Just telling the person you want to spend the rest of your life with them sickness and in health blah blah.”

“Yeah.” Jason shrugged, “I have basic vows for the Gotham wedding, but for the wedding this weekend, I just want them to be different and less like everything else.”

“Well, what do you want to say?”

“Exactly.”

Roy laughed. “You’ve read a million books you’re telling me that you can’t string the most romantic scenes and moments together?”

Jason sat back in the chair.

“What does she need to know? What are you confessing in front of the hardest people you need to impress? Me and the rest of your siblings.”

“It's not for you guys. It’s for us.”

“Then what do you want to tell her?”

Jason sat back in his chair with his hand behind his head, remembering the evening he asked you to marry him.

It happened to be a night that you and Jason didn’t have patrol, so you two made a date night out of it. The two of you are sitting in a booth at your favorite local diner. You two managed to keep it a secret from everyone else in the Batfam so they wouldn’t just show up and surprise you two. It’s late at night and you two had been there so often that the wait staff had your orders memorized. He was sitting across from you with his arms outstretched over the back of the booth as he listened to you talk with a half-smirk on his face.

You were sitting back in your booth just going on about your students from the dance studio. He loved how passionate you were about your job and how much you cared for other people. You two had been through so much, even when he had been an ass to you. You somehow took him back after everything he said and put you through. He was grateful for that. Life made sense with you.

“Hello? Earth to Jason.” You were waving your hand in his face snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Are you even listening?”

“Yeah! You were saying how you had to help some of your kids with their science and math homework and how you don’t miss science and math homework. Then you told me about the puppies you saw on your way to work today. And no, I still don’t think getting a dog is a good idea.”

“Okay, so you were listening,” you chuckle, “Sorry you just looked zoned out. I thought I was just rambling.”

“No.” Jason sits up leaning forward in the booth putting his hands on the table. “I like listening to you talk.”

You smile and instinctively lean into him as he takes on of your hands and with the other, you stir your milkshake. He gently rubs over your thumb. Basking in the comfortable silence and the background noise of the diner. Still holding his hand you sit back in the booth and close your eyes. If only every night could be this comfortable.

“Y/n.”

“Hm?” You respond without opening your eyes. He squeezes your hand.

“Will you marry me?”

You open an eye and take a peek at him. He was still sitting across the table from you. He hadn’t moved and was looking right at you.

He couldn’t possibly be serious. You chuckle. “Shut up.” You respond closing your eyes again.

“No, I’m serious.”

You take your hand back and sit up in the booth and stare at him half confused and half suspicious. You narrowed your eyes trying to gauge his reaction. Almost expecting him to go “Haha. Gotcha.” Or “I’m kidding.” You don’t know why he’d joke like that but you don’t know why he’d be asking you to marry him.

Marriage was something you two talked about but it was also something you two would just let happen when it felt most comfortable. You knew you wanted to be with him and he with you. So, you weren’t sure why you thought he was kidding.

“I know I don’t have a ring and I know I’m not down on one knee but I want to spend the rest of my life with you and after everything that happened I know you’re the one I want to spend my life with. I’m planning to get you a ring but I wanted to get you something with my money, not Bruce’s.  I couldn’t wait to ask you.”

“Jay....”

“Do you want me to get on one knee? I will if you want.” he begins to stand up.

“No.” You grab his hand and set him back down, “No it’s okay. I’d love to marry you. I’ll happily marry you. No ring needed. No need to get on one knee.”

He squeezes your hand.

“Should we just run away?” He teased.

“And have Roy be our witness and third wheel forever?”

“And always.”

You two share a kiss across the table.

“I got it.”

You two decided to elope to Vegas. You two were going to have a real wedding soon where paparazzi would be “invited” your mom would be there and all your business colleagues, Wayne enterprises, socialites, and other Gotham elite it would be a wedding for everyone. But you and Jason wanted a smaller ceremony for the two of you first. What started small as in you, Jay, and Roy. Turned into a Batkid affair. So you, Jason, Roy, Dick, Duke, Tim, Damian, Cas, Steph, and Babs all flew out to Vegas. Your first day in Vegas while everyone was out walking around together around the Vegas strip. You and Jason decided on a small stage space close to the end of the “Venetian” river.

It was Vegas wedding day. Roy stood beside Jason. They weren’t wearing tuxes but they were dressed nicer. Jason had on black pinstriped pants, a red button-up with the sleeves rolled up with a black-tie done loosely with a black vest on. Roy had on black dress pants with a yellow dress shirt rolled up like Jason’s and unbuttoned near the top with suspenders on.

The two of them were making small talk, to help calm Jason’s nerves. The plan was for him and Roy to be there with the photographer before the impromptu wedding. Then the rest of the family would appear shortly after. Jason had his hands in his pant’s pockets and laughed at Roy’s joke.

“You’re in a good mood.”

“It’s not every day, I get to marry my best friend.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t let you cheat on y/n with me.”

Jason rolled his eyes at Roy. When Roy gave him a big smile and pointed behind Jay.

Jason turned around and Dick was leading the train of the Batfam. Jason tried to look past them all to get a glimpse of you, but they had you perfectly hidden behind them.

At this point, the passersby that were minding their own business began to stop and hang around, some kept minding their own business, while others were interested in the show. Dick greeted Jason first, he patted his shoulder, “Congrats, Little Wing.” Jason gave his brother a light punch in the arm and Dick moved aside. Following Dick was Tim who also gave him congratulations. Then there is Duke, where the two shared a hug. Cass was after and gave him a fake one-two punch in the gut followed by a hug. Next was Steph and then Babs, who he shared a hug with both of them.

“You’re in for a treat.” Steph teased.

Babs blew Jason a kiss and the two stood next to Cas.

Jason looked over at his family to the side of him. A lot has happened and they stood by him through it all. To have them all here, he was grateful. Then everyone looked over to where they came in. Little Damien, who is now 13 much more mature than the 8-year-old you had originally met. Damien loved you and thought of you as a big sister.

You planned to walk down the aisle yourself, but when Damien asked if he could give you away to Jason who were you to deny him.

You always knew Damien thought highly of you but one day after you and Jason had gotten back together after your hiatus apart. Damien lectured you left and right about how if Todd is ever a dick to you again he’d take care of Todd himself.

“Not if I handled him myself first.” You joked with Damien.

“Good.”

Then one day, you’ll never forget you were looking for Damien, but couldn’t find him in the manor. You walked outside onto the manor’s patio where Dick and Jason were sitting.

“Hey, do you know where Damian is?” you ask taking a seat next to Jason, “I can’t find him.”

“Yeah,” Dick nods, “Hold on, I got this.” He clears his throat. “DAMIAN! JASON IS BULLYING Y/N!!!”

Jason shook his head and looked at Dick, “Wait, what?!”

“Goddammit!”

You and Jason looked around and then up as Dick nodded proudly. Damien opened the window from the second floor in the manor and jumped out of it with a fighting stick. “TODD!”

Jason gets up from where he’s sitting and quickly runs out of the way, “GAAHH!!!”

You look over at Dick who nods and is giving you two thumbs up.

Back to the wedding:

Jason’s jaw dropped and he couldn’t believe that he was so lucky to have you. You were in a short spaghetti strap lacy white dress it hugged your body and your curves it had a slight v neck to it but wasn’t revealing. You wore your hair down nothing too fancy, just some soft waves and a baby’s breath crown on your head with your hair resting on your left shoulder.

You had a small light pink and black bouquet. Your shoes were a metallic white pearl shoe with skinny heel with a buckle around the ankle. It took everything in Jason not to just run over to you, sweep you off your feet and shower you in kisses. He was the happiest and luckiest man alive. The photographer was snapping pictures like crazy. When you left Alfred just asked for some pictures of the wedding, if Alfred wanted photos he was going to get them. No questions asked.

Roy nudged Jason. Jason nudged him back and couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

Damien walked you up to Jason.

“Thanks, Dami.” And you two shared a hug.

Damien turned around and glared at Jason. “Todd.”

“Demon spawn.” He cracks Damian a half-smile.

“Don’t mess this up, again.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t.”

Damian nods and steps aside letting Jason know that he’s approved of you two together again. You give Damien your bouquet. He walks over next to Babs and Steph. Jason offered you his hand. You take it and he leans into you as he helps you up, “You look absolutely gorgeous.” He stands up straight as you two take each other’s hands.

“Everyone is staring at us.”

“Everyone is staring at you.” Jason gestured, down to what you were wearing, giving you an ‘it’s definitely not me, it’s you’ kind of look.  You smiled at him as you moved your hair out of your face and then take his hands again. He couldn’t stop smiling as much as he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Looking at you like this was like falling in love all over again. This was happening.

“Hello, friends and family.” Roy began, “We are gathered here for the marriage of our beloved Y/f/n/   y/m/n   y/l/n and our shit-eating boy, Jason Peter Todd.”

Everyone chuckles at Roy and Jay playfully flips him off.

“Now, the couple would like to say their vows.”

“Jason Peter Todd.” You began, “Where do I even begin with you. With us? Since my first day at Gotham Academy when you kept spilling coffee on me. We’ve unfortunately been best friends since. You’ve been my first choice always since we’ve met and since I’ve been with you I’ve never safer. From the highs and the lows you’ve been with me through it all.” You wipe one of your eyes, “I couldn’t imagine going through life with anyone else except for you. So, take me as I am because I have already taken you. I promise to always be by your side through anything the world may throw at us. I’ll protect you through it all.”

He brings your hands to his lips and kisses them.

“I guess it’s my turn.” He rolls his shoulders back while he stands up straight with your hands still in his. “Y/n.”

He looks around him, his brothers, and his sisters. The crowd that had gathered during your ceremony. The perfect weather and the beautiful bride he has. You were breathtaking. Looking at you, his heart skipped a beat.

Every. Single. Time.

He takes a deep breath before beginning.

“I’ll keep it as simple as I can.” He bites his lip, “Shit.” He wipes his eye. “How’d you do this without balling?” he joked.

You chuckle, “It was hard.”

“Ok,” he gives your hands another squeeze, “Y/n, you don't have to listen carefully, because I will tell you a thousand times. With your hands in mine, look at this thing we found. I have everything I need and I promise to give you everything you will ever need because you make me not want to die.”

You let out a chuckle and Roy rolled his eyes. Before you and Jason would say ‘I love you’ that’s what you’d say to each other, when you first started dating and when you guys got back together.

You’d be leaving the safe house for dance practice and Jason called after you, “Y/n!”

“What?”

He’d tilt his head and give you a soft smile, “you make me not want to die.”

You crack a smile and flip him off as he flips you off in return. You continue walking away and Jason can’t help but keep his eyes glued on you as you left.

“You two have the weirdest relationship.” Roy pretended to be disgusted.

“When you get sad like you do sometimes. Anything you feel. Put it all on me. All of your thoughts, I want everything. I’m letting you know, I’m going to be around.”

It had been months since you and Peter broke up and since you have decided not to take Jason back. You opened your eyes and started to cry. He was standing in front of you. “What happened to us?” You ask wiping away your tears.

He goes to step towards you and you back away making yourself smaller.

“Y/n.” He hesitates and puts his arms back to his side.

You don’t look at him.

“I’m sorry.” You look at him. Now he was crying, “I was wrong. You were right and I shouldn’t have done the things that I did but I did and I hurt you and I’m sorry. I don’t want to be apart from you anymore. I’m better with you than I am without you.”

“Jason...” you feel your chest tighten as more tears begin to fall.

“All I want to do is love you and if you don’t want to be with me. At least let me be around...again. I miss my best friend.”

You get on your tiptoes and wrap your arms around his neck. Where he wraps his arms around your body in a tight embrace.

“I never stopped loving you.” You cried. “I’m so scared and lost I don’t know what I want.” You begin to hiccup and Jason rubs your back.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. Sincerely. I promise I won’t ever be the reason you cry again.”

“I'll lift you when you're feeling low. I'll hold you when the night gets cold. Your fears and your thoughts, give me all of it. You'll never have to be alone and that's all you need to know.”

You wipe away your tears.

“I’m sorry.” Jason apologized.

You shook your head no, “Good tears.” He smiles at you and you both look over at Roy who smiling at them softly. He nods and breaks the silence: “Jason Peter Todd, you may kiss your bride.”

Jason cups your face as he pulls you in for a passionate kiss on the lips as the audience that has since gathered clapped and cheered but not louder than his and your family only a few steps away.

[tea-with-cinnamontoast]

family.

[A/N: E. this is the nhs family day au thing,, i actually like it wow-]

"Ugh, family day. Stupid 'Family Bonding' day," the puple-haired teen mumbled, cleaning up his room. The same thing every year, Norrisville High had a 'Family Bonding' day where the students are supposed to bring at least one person from their family to school and apparently, bond. Howard said there was a bazaar, lots of games, and many yummy food. Randy didn't know, because he never participated. His dad divorced with his mom, and his mom is too busy working, that he never joined.

He always wanted to, he admitted. Randy wanted a time with his family, but he drifted apart from his mom and lost contact with his dad. The teen imagined laughing with his parents, playing ring-toss and winning prizes. He imagined himself eating cotton candy and making funny faces with his parents in the photo booth. He wanted to have fun and 'bond', as the school said it, and have the brucest day of the year. But, no. Randy was the only child of two adults, adults that Randy barely even talk to these days.

"Never once have I even joined, because of some stupid business mom always does," the boy grumbled to himself, taking his books away for tomorrow is Saturday. In worse cases, Randy would think that his mom was just avoiding him. He hated Family Bonding Day. He hated not being there. He hated not having fun. He hated not having a proper, fun and close family. To be honest, Randy didn't know if it was illegal to come in without a family, yet he was too embarrassed to try. He didn't want to be known as 'the shoob with no parents' cause that's how sad being a freshman is. Once you got a name, there is no coming back.

Done cleaning up with his bits and bobs, he grabbed the Nomicon and put it by his table, having a kind of feeling that the book was listening, but Randy shrugged the thought off and sighed. "Welp, another Family day, another full-day of playing Grave Puncher in my underwear, I guess," the teen begrudgingly went up to the top bunk and rested his eyes.

-- + --

"Wake up, ninja," a stern, yet soothing, voice called onto Randy. "We are going to be late." It took a while for the newly woken up boy to register the sound. Then it occurred to him, the source of the voice was from his own mentor, Nomi. The teen groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He yawned and saw Nomi with her gorgeous red hair in a, surprisingly, modern attire. Her hair was tied in a pony tail, yet some of her hair is still loose. She used a black shirt, with the nomicon pattern in it, and black pants. She also wore red shoes.

The boy looked over her shoulder and saw Satoru sitting on his sofa, resting his head and closed his eyes. He used a ponytail for his hair, red shirt with a Norisu Nine symbol and black pants. The First Ninja peeked his eyes opened for a bit and saw Randy awake, stretching his arm and walked over to the boy. "Come on, get ready. We are going to walk there soon," he urged, the boy nodding in response and quickly got ready.

Up in his normal clothes, the three went outside Randy's house and walked. The siblings talked and laughed as the boy silently listening, excited, yet curious, of where they were going. "Hey guyss, it'll be bruce if you tell me where we're going. Ooh! Training maybe? What am I going to learn today?" the teen asked the adults. "You will know when we will get there," Nomi answered smiling, which triggered Randy's curiosity even more. The boy fake-pouted as Satoru chuckled by his side. This'll be interesting.

All Randy knew was that they were heading uptown, where the malls, McFist Industry, Norrisville High, and other McStores lie. Maybe they were heading to the park? Oh! Maybe they're gonna shop together? The boy thought hard, wanting to know where they were going. It was rare for the two to spring out of the Nomicon, so maybe this is an emergency of some sort, where they have to train and teach Randy new stuff. It was exciting.

But when the teen got there it wasn't what he was expecting.

-- + --

To say he was surprised was an understatement, Randy was filled with a few feelings. Shock, curiosity, confusion, and posibly... happiness? It was mixed up and the boy didn't know what to expect. He was in front of the school. On Family Day. Without a family. Well, the last one was debatable, the two adults beside him we're like family to him, closer than his bond with his own mom. Which isn't supposed to be a good thing, Randy guessed.

"Why... are we here?" the boy asked, looking at the blue and yellow banners all over the place. The ribbon on the school were put up high, with the writings "HELLO PARENTS, WELCOME TO FAMILY BONDING DAY!!" written messily by one of the students using yellow paint. The outside was full of people, from adults to their children, from the teachers to the other staff. The place looked fun and cheerful, like there isn't a prison of an ancient evil sorcerer under it ('Which would be great if it wasn't literal,' Randy thought).

"Nomi overheard your predicament, so we thought it would be... bruce if you could come here," Satoru answered, the red head nodded. "But my parents aren't here and..." Randy said, not yet catching on the wind. The two raised their eye brows. 'Oh,' the boy realized. "You two are..." he tried to say.

Tears started swelling up in his eyes, but the others didn't notice. They were too busy looking at the well-decorated school, and Randy could appreciate that. Despite feeling the nerve to break down and say thank you in front of everyone, he decided that the best way to cherish the day is by giving the not-from-the-present sibling the best time of their 800 year-old life. But he couldn't stop the urge to hug the two, and so he did.

It took a while for Satoru and Nomi to register what the juice happened, but returned the hug and embrace the boy. Excitedly, Randy dragged the two past-ninjas inside, past the crowded place. The boy looked overjoyed and is jumping everywhere like an excited puppy, pointing everywhere and listing the things he wanted to do. For the two siblings though, it was a new sight.

They never saw most events that happened in the school from a book, mind you, so they were fascinated, but the two kept cool. "Not like the last time we visited eh, brother?" Nomi smiled and Satoru nodded. To be honest, Nomi was as interesting as her brother. Hidden well, she was amused at how far humanity came from her time.

"Randy! You're here?" a voice, the purple-haired teen recognize everywhere, called from wherever, running and panting towards him. "But I thought you... you know." Randy understood the silent phrase. 'Don't want to be seen without a parent'. The lanky teen just shrugged and answered with a simple "Yeah."

"Ah, Wienerman, such a wonderful time to meet again," Satoru greeted from behind, with Nomi came with a bit of resentment. The girl do not like Howard. He was selfish, mean, and overall not a good friend, but Randy needed his bro, and Nomi could understand that. But still, that doesn't mean she liked him and the feeling was mutual.

Satoru, on the other hand, liked (liked, mind you) that Wienerman kid. His friendship with Randy reminded him of his own with Plop Plop, and that was nice to see. Nomi didn't know what her brother saw on the orange-haired boy, but decided not to ask. Howard saw the two and gasped for a while, and Randy sheepishly smiled. "Yeah, they're posing as family," the tall teen confirmed.

"Well, bruce to see you again, First Ninj," Howard greeted back, grinning. He always liked the First Ninja and Plop Plop, they were cool, especially when the two teen went back in time. "Please, call me Satoru. Satoru Norisawa," the ninja replied. Nomi joined them, Randy winced a bit. He knew their resentment and that they would never get along. Howard addressed the redhead with a simple "You."

Nomi didn't answer nor greeted the boy, they just stared at each other, and Randy wondered which one hated the other more. It was a bit too intense for the teen's comfort, and Satoru catched his discomfort. "Nomi..." her brother started. "Howie! There you are!" someone called from behind, stopping Howard from his glaring contest.

"Randy! Great to see you here!" Howard's dad, Mort Wienerman, came. He later acknowledged the two adults and smiled, though he looked sort of confused. "And you must be Randy's..." he reached his hand for a shake, but he couldnt finish the statement. "Family," the teen answered simply. And he wasn't lying. "Nomi Norisawa, and my brother, Satoru," Nomi introduced, shaking the other's hand. "Mort Wienerman, family from Japan?" Howard's dad asked. Randy took this one, "Yeah, you could say that."

Nomi inspected the man in front of her, and concluded that this is Howard's father. Behind him, a girl with the same fantastic orange shade of hair walked towards them. "Nice to see that Randall can make it, for once," the female said, not looking up from her phone ("It's Randy! It's always been Randy!"). "I'm going to get some food, see you later," the man informed them. "Dad, can I stay with Cunningham?" Howard asked, and Mort nodded.

"So what do we start with first? I'm leaning to food, but I'm also thinking about games," Randy started, walking with the group. He wanted the two ninjas to have a time of their life, and he needed to be good. "I vote food," Howard said. "Of course you do. How about you two?" the lanky teen asked. "We have never been here, do you not remember?" Satoru answered, his hands crossed behind him, looking at the long food stands and games.

"Right. We're going to the game section!" Randy announced like a pirate captain and pointed, walking towards the games.

-- + --

"Haha! You are going to lose, dear brother!" Nomi exclaimed to his brother, the two playing skeeball. Randy laughed and watched with fascination. "Not if I beat you first, dearest Nomi," Satoru shot back, focusing on the game. The purple-haired teen didn't know if it was the "800 year old ninja knowledge" thing or that they practiced (which is unlikely...) but the two we're super skilled and evenly matched, both of them hitting the bullseye with every ball they had.

The game keeper watched with wide eyes, and others started coming, too. They watched the two spar it out in the game, as the two focused on the hole. The siblings finally stopped when they have no more balls, and deemed themselves the winner. There was a competitive glare between the Norisawas for a while, but it boiled down into laughter and enjoyment. Randy loved every second of it.

Randy loved they way they were just... here. Wow, even his mortal, easier-to-be-here mom couldn't be in this spot right now, yet two from-the-past siblings managed to be there. For him. The teen loved the way they would laugh together and take care of him, occasionally being an 'actual' parent just for him to be safe. He love the way they were open and fun, and would do anything to make Randy happy. He just loved them. They were like his own parent figure. Like a family.

Nomi's giggles and Satoru's chuckling filled Randy's heart with joy, and they decided to buy some food. The two never tried 'modern' food before, and for that reason, the teen wanted to pick the best food for them. "So Howard, name the best food here," he whispered to his biffer, who was munching on some chips. "Well, Cunningham. I think I would choose corndogs, then top it off with some cotton candy," the short boy answered, cheese from the chips smeared his mouth.

And so he did. The freshman bought some corndogs and shared them with his best friend and, admittedly, his family. They were peacefully laughing, when a giant explosion can be heard. "Seriously? We we're having fun and a monster comes?" Randy mumbled under his breath. "Go, Ninja. We will be here if you need help," Satoru assured. The teen nodded and ran to the restroom, leaving his teachers and biffer alone.

The boy used his mask, flashing lights and black ribbons covered him. After all the lightshow was done, he ran out of the stall and smoke-bombed his way in. "Smoke bomb! Hey, monster! Seriously!? On Family Day?! Who would even-" before he could finished his sentence, the stanked one attacked. The 'corrupted' one looked different, it was too robotic for a human, but too emotional for a robot. The Ninja remembered fighting a staked Viceroy creation, but this wasn't the same.

It's eyes stared into Randy, causing uneasiness. The teen didn't know how or why this one got stanked, but the fight sure wasn't easy. And yet, something about its... shape is recognizable. The creature had a bull's head and a human body, not a very good look on anyone, to be honest. The boy racked up his name, thinking about his classes. It was hard, since he zoned out most of his scholar studies. Then he realized.

"You're a, um, Minator? How do you say it's shoob name... Oh yeah, uh, Minotaur!" the Ninja shouted it's name. 'Names have power,' he recalled from a movie. Randy heard about this nasty piece of work, actually, he heard of the actual one not a half robotic one. Apparently, some lady from Ancient Greece decided it was a great idea to make a child with a bull. A honkin' bull. The boy remembered a few parts of the story, when explained in his history class (talking about Greece and its lush mythology), and remembered the hero Theseus.

But he wasn't fighting just any Minatour shaped robot. He was fighting a stanked one, and those are bad news.

Not looking at the Minotaur coming towards him full speed after a fun, and totally not destructive, rampage around the school, all Randy can remember was flying. It would've been great if it wasn't a dream, yet it wasn't, and the Ninja is plunging in super speed into his death. But he didn't feel the ground. Which is weird, maybe he died? "Got you, Ninja," Satoru's voice called from behind the mask.

The teen opened his eyes and stood up, watching the scenes. There were quick movements here and there, the robot getting slashed slowly and steadily, but the creature wouldn't go down that easily. Gradually, it rose up, dodging Nomi's (now in a mask) attacks and charging on the girl. She was growing restless and retreated, then united with the male ninjas.

"This creature... cannot be fought alone," the girl summarized. They planned an ambush and charged, grabbing their katanas and other weapons. Skilled in hand-in-hand combat, Satoru grabbed a katana. More skilled in ranged attacks, Nomi pulled out a bow and arrow (which isn't very ninja-y you might think but holy cheese she's good). Skilled in a more street fighting type of combat, Randy grabbed a stick (or a pole? The teen called it the "Ninja Smacking Stick!").

They fought and fought, slashed and slashed, stabbed and stabbed. Randy kept calling the bull names (his mouth can be as demonic as the Tengu, I swear to the Norisu Nine-). But nothing seems to work. Until, Satoru stabbed it's heart. "When a great warrior strikes you down, it would be best to stay down," Satoru quipped.

Maybe he already figured out where the stanking was or he just accidentally did it, green smoke left the robotic body and went underground, back to the Sorcerer. The three smoke-bombed away and appeared in the field with their normal clothes. Some witnesses said that they saw three warriors. Howard caught up with them and said, "Oh Cunningham! You should've seen the bull-thingy's face when you called him names!" Nomi thought it would be more suitable if he asked if Randy was okay, but then again, this is Howard we're talking about.

Howard needed to go, and Nomi hid her relief. She couldn't stand any more seconds with the short boy and would've already strangled him if he wasn't Randy's friend. The purple-haired teen decided to go to the photobooth and take some pictures together. Free of any worry, they made funny faces and shit-eating grins, ended up laughing together. It was getting dark, and the bazaar/carnival sort of thing is destroyed anyway, so they decided to go home. Watching the sunset, Randy appreciated the moment, though there was a feeling of guilt.

"Hey, guys? Thank you for bringing me here and sorry for not being able to kill the robot alone. I shoobed this day for you all didn't I?" the boy hung his head low. He didn't see the head shakes and the smiles. "When a Ninja needs help, he can always ask for help," Nomi said softly. "It was, with no doubt, one of the best things that happened in the 800 years. It was very... bruce," Satoru smiled. The teen couldn't help but to grin.

Randy loved today. He smelled the fragrance of the flowers blooming as they walked home, calmly talking to his two mentors. Mentors that became family, not since today, but the teen felt they were family from the first. What did he learn today, Randy didn't know. But one thing's for sure: he has a family. He has a great best friend. He has an amazing job. What else can he ask for?

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

For the Flame Always So Loved the Stars - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Jon Kent, Tim Drake, Conner Kent, Kara Kent, Clark Kent, Lois Lane Pairing: jondami Summary: Nothing stays the same forever. But fairytales always end the same way. A/N: This is just a whole fucking lot of self-indulgent garbage. Takes place over 5 years, Damian is 18-23, and Jon is 15-20. The last section is just their superhero way of saying ‘I love you and always will.’ but like. Subtly. I wrote this for myself, but I’m pleased with how it came out, so I hope you like it too. Sorry not sorry for literally the first line of this fic haha. The legend was googled so I took the most similar parts in all the wikis I read. I ignored the part where they all said ‘their story always ends in tragedy and betrayal’ but I’m going for happy endings dammit.

~~

Dick Grayson died when Damian was eighteen.

He wasn’t there. No one from the family was. It was a simple carjacking gone wrong. A single bullet, straight to the chest, from a scared kid who thought completing the initiation to the local gang was his only option to survive in this life.

It was almost funny. A single bullet. No poison, no torture. No evil mastermind, or world-ending apocalypse. No battles against armies, or lives and loves at stake. Not anything they dealt with daily.

Just an old car with a purse left on the passenger seat that someone saw. Just a weak spot in aged armour that was going to be replaced in the next year or so.

Just a single bullet.

Damian doesn’t remember much from after he was told, after he came home from class and found his siblings and Stephanie waiting for him in the parlor. He remembered knowing it must have been bad; Tim’s face was blotchy, his eyes red-rimmed and he wasn’t even trying to hide it.

Stephanie was the one who told him. Cassandra held his hand. But that was about it. That was all his mind supplied.

That, and the fact that his first thought after being told was: ‘But that’s not fair.’

Not fair because Dick was the best of them, in every way. Because he was funny, smart, kind, and every single thing a hero should be. A good person.

Not fair because Damian only got eight years with him, his closest confidante, one of his only friends. Because Damian decided at age ten that a world without Dick Grayson was not one he wanted to live in, and yet here he was, in the worst reality he could think of.

He doesn’t remember much from after he was told. He remembers Stephanie saying: “Dick died, Damian.” He remembers thinking: ‘But that’s not fair.’

Then...he remembers a pain in his knees. Remembers blinking and finding himself staring at the floor, which was much closer than it should have been. He remembers his sister kneeling in front of him, allowing him to press his  forehead into her shoulder. Remembers Jason next to him, rubbing his back, asking if they should get him water, or take him upstairs.

He remembers hearing Tim sob, and that might be the most memorable thing of the moment, because his body registered that that’s what he wanted to do too, he wanted to cry.

But he couldn’t, because you don’t cry over things that weren’t real. And that’s obviously why he collapsed, why he couldn’t form words to come out of his mouth, why his mind was refusing to remember this moment.

Because it wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be.

~~

Jon was antsy. Nervous.

Alfred had called days ago to inform him and his parents what had happened. And Jon had already been halfway out the door when the butler interjected to request that none of them visit, not right now. The Waynes and their closest companions were grieving, and needed to be alone.

And he hated that – he hated being away from Damian on a good day, but now, when Damian was going to need him? It was pure agony.

So two weeks later, when Clark gave him the okay, he took off to Gotham faster than he ever had before, and bypassed every bit of security measures that Bruce asked him to complete upon arriving.

He found Damian in the cemetery, and he had a feeling it was a place Damian didn’t often leave anymore.

Jon said nothing as he approached. Just plopped next to Damian and silently wrapped his arms around the other’s neck. Damian didn’t say anything either, but he leaned gratefully into the embrace, reaching up to cling to Jon’s forearm.

“I’m so sorry.” Jon whispered, leaning back. He didn’t leave Damian’s personal space, though. Kept their shoulders touching, knees keeping each other warm. “I…I don’t know what else to say. To think.”

“Me neither.” Damian murmured. His voice sounded dry, and Jon wondered when he last drank anything, or ate. “But…I’m glad you’re here.”

Jon let himself smile a little bit, and reached out to hold Damian’s hand. Damian didn’t refute the gesture, and even squeezed Jon’s fingers between his. “I wish I’d had been allowed to come sooner.”

Damian shrugged. “It was better you didn’t see any of us as we…were.”

“Were, huh?” Jon asked dubiously. He glanced forward towards Dick’s grave. Flowers and statues covered it as a makeshift memorial, and the flowers were starting to wilt. “…How are you doing with all this?”

Damian absently shook his head. “I don’t…I don’t know.”

Jon waited, sensing there was more. Had a feeling that in their grief-induced isolation, not many feelings were shared amongst the Wayne family. That they probably all suffered in silence, despite being together.

“I…I didn’t get enough time with him.” Damian continued, just like Jon knew he would. Because Damian didn’t trust easily, but when he did, he trusted you with everything. And Jon knew he was one of the few Damian trusted. Maybe the only one, now. “Eight years. That’s it.”

He squeezed Jon’s hand again.

“If I’d had known that’s all we would have gotten, I…I wouldn’t have wasted it. There was so much I wanted to do with him. Learn from him.” Damian sniffed, and Jon looked up at his eyes. But he didn’t see a hint of tears. In fact, he saw nothing. Damian’s eyes were empty. “But now I’ll never get the chance. I’ll never get to ask how he escaped Father and Gotham. How he survived on his own, and found himself, or how can I do that too. How I can leave Robin, and start over somewhere else like he did. How he rebuilt his life, how he became and remained kind. Did he think it was possible I can remain kind too? Did he…did he believe in me? Or what about how…”

Damian trailed off, and Jon was almost glad he did. Because in his ramblings, Jon heard something, and he wasn’t so sure Damian meant to let it slip.

“You want to leave Robin?” Jon asked softly. Damian’s mouth clamped shut. “Since when?”

Damian stared at the stone in front of him for a moment, before sighing and looking at the ground.

“A few months.” Damian admitted. “I…just don’t fit in it anymore, I don’t think. Or it doesn’t fit me. And I can’t stay in Batman’s shadow forever, no matter who is wearing the mantle. Besides, Grayson left it when he was around my age. As did Drake, even if it wasn’t by his choice. I might as well follow the tradition as well.”

“…Does your dad know?”

“…No. No one does.” Damian frowned. “I was going to speak with Grayson about it next time I saw him, but now…now you’re the only one who knows by default, I suppose.”

“Well, thanks for telling me.” Jon smiled. He waited a moment, then looked up at the sky. “So…what do you want to do after you leave Robin? Find a new name? Quit and go on the straight and narrow?”

“I don’t know. That’s…what I was going to speak to Grayson about.” Damian admitted softly. “I want to still help, of course. But…is behind a mask the best way? Is Gotham where I’m best utilized?” He sighed, and curled his knees to his chest. Though he never let go of Jon’s hand. “But now…now I am even more confused.”

“Why?”

“Because Batman needs a Robin, and I can’t leave my father now, Jon.” Damian almost snapped, like it was obvious. “He’s grieving, and he’s lost. He shouldn’t be alone. He shouldn’t be left alone.”

“Absolutely not. I agree.” Jon nodded. “But…it can’t all fall on you, D. Just like it can’t fall on Alfred or Tim. He has his family, no matter where in the world they – you – are, and he has his friends. He has my dad, and Diana.”

“This is different. This is the loss of Richard. And not even Superman can heal that wound.” Damian shook his head. “Not to mention…if I left now, would my father see it as a betrayal? Abandonment? Would the family?”

“They wouldn’t. They couldn’t.” Jon argued. “You’re growing up, and they all know how it is. You can’t be stuck as the Boy Wonder forever, that’s not fair to you. Does the timing kind of suck? Maybe. But also…maybe this is the best time.” He hesitated, but squeezed Damian’s hand and said his thoughts anyway. “Maybe this is exactly what Dick would want you to do. Spread your wings and fly, so to speak.”

Damian stared at the ground. “…I don’t know what I’m going to do without him, Jon. I truly don’t. What if, without his guidance, I’m tempted by my mother again, and actually consider any offer she makes? What if I stray, and Batman cuts me loose, like I was burden in the first place? What if-”

“Hey, hey – stop. Don’t talk like that.” Jon shook their clasped hands. “None of that is going to happen, okay? Despite the fact that it won’t ever happen at all in the first place, I won’t let it. I promise. Alright?”

Damian didn’t look at him. But after a moment, he let himself tilt to the side, and lean his head on Jon’s shoulder.

“…Thanks for being here, Kent.” Damian whispered. “It means a lot.”

Jon let go of Damian’s hand, only to wrap his arm around his shoulders instead. He looked at the tombstone at their feet, sent a silent prayer up to Dick himself. “Don’t even mention it, D.”

~~

A few months later, Robin had all but disappeared off the streets. It prompted news articles and primetime specials. Conspiracy theory websites and Twitter hashtags.

Jon liked to print them out and bring them to Damian every time he visited.

He was still in Gotham, and even still going out on patrol with Batman and the rest. But now his uniform was all black, and he stayed in the background as much as he could. This new shadow of Batman’s was never mentioned in the papers, never caught in a photo. A ghost, almost.

That wasn’t Damian’s new moniker, though. He still hadn’t chosen one.

“Not even a general idea?” Jon asked one day, as he and Conner visited. Tim had taken the newly printed article and was reading it over with an amused smirk, Conner cackling behind him. “Or like, a motif?”

“Not a priority.” Damian had shrugged. “Maybe I’ll never pick one.”

“Now you’re just being stubborn.” Jon pouted. “…How’s Bruce doing?”

Damian shrugged again. “Same as always. Attempts to lock himself in the cave, or in his office with work from Wayne Enterprises. I drag him out of the house at least every other day.”

Jon pursed his lips.

“But he’s been smiling lately. Like real smiles. So, it’s a start.” Damian promised. He knew Jon didn’t like this, Damian caring for Bruce. Because he knew that same care was not being reciprocated in the way it should.

“How long are you going to stay?” Jon asked, as he did every visit. “In Gotham, I mean.”

“I don’t know. Also not a priority.” Damian sighed. “I’m needed here, both in uniform and at home. When I feel I’m not necessarily needed, then I’ll start considering my options elsewhere.”

~~

Something felt different when Jon was nineteen.

Clark and Conner found him sitting in the kitchen, staring fiercely into a soda can when they arrived home one afternoon.

“Hey, champ.” Clark hummed, leaning down to kiss Jon’s temple.

“Hey, Dad. Hey Kon” Jon sighed. “How was Gotham?”

“Gloomy, like always.” Conner chuckled, plopping down across from him. “Damian said hello, by the way.”

Jon felt himself blush a little bit. And he shouldn’t have, he’s known Damian forever. But lately, it felt like the two of them were growing closer, in a way he never expected when they were just teenagers trying to live up to their fathers’ legacies.

In a way that included flirting, holding hands in a park, in front of paparazzi. A way that included what may have been a date, since it ended in a quick, barely there kiss.

“He said he was going to give an answer to a question he knows you’d ask.” Clark continued, drawing Jon out of his reverie. “No, he has not decided on a new codename yet.”

Jon groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “He knows this isn’t like a blood contract or something, right? It doesn’t have to be permanent! It’s not that big of a choice!”

Clark held his hands up. “Don’t shoot the messenger, son.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Jon sighed. He sat back up and watched his father grab a glass and start to fill it in the sink. “Speaking of codenames and all that…”

Clark tilted his head as Conner sat up.

“I don’t…when do you think…” Jon huffed. “Conner, when did you realize you didn’t want to…be called Superboy anymore?”

Conner pursed his lips, looked at the ceiling. “I don’t know. Guess I never really thought about it. Just…stopped using it. And eventually everyone else did too.”

“I don’t think I knew that.” Clark mumbled sheepishly. “What do you go by now, may I ask?”

“Nothing, really. And not like Damian where I’m still deciding something. But just…Kon, usually. Different enough from Conner, honestly.” Conner grinned. “A lot of people also seem to think it’s Con – as in Pros and Cons? Works real well for the taunting wordplay and all that too.”

Clark snorted. “I’m sure your friends love the puns.”

“Bart does. Cassie, depends on the day. Tim is like a disappointed dad all the time anyway, so he doesn’t count.” Conner waved off. He returned his attention to Jon, whose attention seemed to be drifting off again. “Why do you ask, squirt?”

Jon frowned at the name, and that was new. Normally he didn’t mind the random nicknames his older brother gave him. “Because…I don’t…I don’t know. I don’t think…I want to be called Superboy anymore.”

Clark joined them at the table, sitting down carefully. “Why not?”

“Because, I’m not a boy anymore. I’m a teenager. I mean, I’m…I’m practically an adult!” Jon sounded exasperated already, like he’d had this conversation a million times. “It’s…it’s demeaning, and childish, and…and…”

He trailed off into a huff, slumping in his chair.

“I don’t even know if I want to keep the Super part, honestly.” Jon glanced at Clark. “Sorry, Dad.”

Clark shook his head, raising his hand. “None taken, Jonno.”

“Especially since I don’t feel all that super most of the time anyway.” He sighed.

“…If you want out of the life, Jon, I wouldn’t blame you.” Clark offered. “I’d love it, honestly. It’d just mean you’d be safer.”

“No, no. I want to be a hero. I want to help. I just.” Jon leaned back forward, hiding his face in his hands. “This is stupid. I feel stupid.”

Conner smiled and leaned forward, slapping his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “Not stupid. Pretty sure every hero has gone through it at least once in their tenure. Even Batman.”

“And he settled on Bat. Man.” Clark winked. “So obviously not all names are winners.”

Jon looked over to Clark. “…You’re not disappointed?”

“That you want a new codename? Not at all.” Clark grinned. “My only request is…don’t take over four years to decide something like Damian is.”

Jon smiled. “I’ll try.”

~~

“Maybe I’ll just go by Krypto.” Jon lamented from the bed. “He’s a dog, so I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“If you started going by Krypto.” Damian countered from the bathroom doorway. “I’m disowning you as my friend.”

Jon rolled to his side, deeper into the blankets. “What about as your potential bedmate?”

Damian’s face twisted, even as he came forward. “Christ, Jon. We haven’t even done anything, how do you still make that sound so dirty?”

“Because I know what annoys you. And if you’d just let me say boyfriend-”

“Which we are not officially.” Damian countered. “…Yet.”

“-Then I wouldn’t have to say things like bedmate, or friend with benefits.”

“We haven’t done anything, there is no benefit for either of us at this point.” Damian reiterated, even as Jon tugged at his arm when he got close enough. Damian sat on the edge of the bed, and almost smiled when Jon shimmied over to place his head in his lap. “Though I am finding your company less beneficial by the minute…”

Jon cackled, even as he felt Damian’s fingers twist into his hair. “Hey, if nothing else, I’m a good cuddle buddy, right?”

“My cat is better.” Damian shrugged. “Probably.”

“I’ll take the probably as a win.” Jon grinned. “…But hey, think about it this way.”

“Hm?”

“Even if I went by something dumb like Krypto, at least I picked a new codename.”

Damian frowned, and pulled his hand back. “For as charming as your parents are, neither of them taught you how to flirt properly, did they?”

Jon immediately pulled his arms out of the blanket, latching on to Damian’s waist. “You hate when I sidetrack a conversation. I was getting back on point.”

“…Fair.” Damian sighed. “I’ll allow it.”

“…Are you any closer to picking anything?” Jon asked. “According to Barry, you’re throwing off everyone’s betting pools.”

“I...have an idea.” Damian murmured, keeping his gaze away from Jon’s. “But I still need to think of a backup.”

“What? Why?” Jon asked.

“…Personal reasons.” Damian murmured. “And I don’t wish to get my hopes up.”

Jon watched him silently.

“But we aren’t talking about me.” Damian countered. “Have you thought of any other suggestions for yourself?”

“I don’t know. Something related to my dad, like Krypton? Or even like your dad – he named himself after what he was scared of, right? Or weakness. So, Kryptonite.” Jon listed. “Or maybe I should just be lazy and follow everyone else’s lead. Starman, or Sunguy or something stupid like that.”

“Hm. Well. Those are certainly…options.” Damian tilted his head apologetically. “I’d offer assistance, but…well…”

Jon laughed.

“Be my distraction instead, how about that?” Jon suggested instead. Without warning, he used his momentum to throw Damian back onto the bed, cocoon him in the blankets as he loomed overhead. “Because there’s totally a lot of other things I’d like to be doing than thinking of new codenames.”

Damian smiled as Jon leaned in for a kiss.

~~

He didn’t know how Damian had lasted four years without a name. It’d only been a few months for himself, a few months of not using any name, and he felt like he was going crazy.

He also felt like he was a total letdown.

He was a Kent, for crying out loud. Son of Superman and one of the world’s greatest journalists. And here, he couldn’t choose a name, couldn’t pick a damn word.

Not to mention, it was detrimental in the field. When he didn’t notice an enemy coming behind him, or someone needed his help – he had no name to be called. And they couldn’t just shout Jon.

How did Damian make it look so easy? Because Damian and his family were freaks. They all moved too in-sync, too well trained. They were like animals themselves – they didn’t need to speak, movement was like instinct. Communication could be silent, because all of them were always three steps ahead of each other.

He let out a guttural groan as he entered the apartment, slammed the door behind him a little too hard. Heard the squeak of the chair in his mother’s office as she stood to greet him.

“Hi honey.” She called, walking into the room. She took in the annoyance on his face and gave him a sympathetic, knowing grin. “It’s not the end of the world, Jon. Names aren’t that big of a deal. So long as you’re helping, who cares what your name is?”

“I know, I know.” Jon mumbled, kicking off his shoes. “I’m just frustrated. It shouldn’t be this hard! Why doesn’t anything feel right?”

“Because it’s not.” Lois shrugged simply, leading the way into the kitchen. She motioned for Jon to sit, and got out a mug for him. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth. It might take a while, but – when you know, you know.”

Jon groaned again. “Mom, I love you – but that was literally no help whatsoever.”

“Sometimes, the truth isn’t helpful.” She laughed, pouring him a glass of ice tea. She set it in front of him, and kissed his head. “But if you’re really struggling with this…talk to your father. He’s helped a young hero or two discover a new path before. You’re no different just because you’re his son.” She paused. “In fact, I’m a little surprised Damian hadn’t told you.”

“Told me what?” Jon stomach nearly dropped. “Dad finally helped him decide on a name too?!”

“Of course not. Damian is as stubborn and tight-lipped as his own idiot of a father.” Lois rolled her eyes, but it was fond. “No, his brother – Dick.”

Jon blinked.

“Nightwing was a Kryptonian name. From the Kryptonian legend of Nightwing and Flamebird.” She hummed thoughtfully. “Even if you don’t want you father’s help on a name, ask him about the story. It’s very good.”

~~

Tim found Damian in the cave alone, and his gut immediately told him that something was off. Not wrong, but…not necessarily good.

“Hey.” He offered. “What’s up?”

Damian didn’t move from the computer chair. He looked too much like Bruce in that moment – slouched, hands steepled in front of his face, looking too thoughtful for someone so young.

“I’d like to talk to you.” Damian returned, just as vaguely.

“I’m all ears.”

Damian hesitated a moment. Dragged it to two. Tim was about to speak, to push the conversation along, when Damian sighed. “I…we didn’t do it right last time. And I don’t want to make the same mistake twice. Not here. Not with you.”

“…Damian?” Tim asked, moving towards him. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“No, no. I just.” He sighed. “I wanted to ask your…opinion.”

“On?”

“I think I’ve chosen a new moniker to go by.” Damian murmured. “But I want to make sure I had permission first.”

“Permission?” Tim repeated, bewildered. “I mean…as long it’s not like Red Robin or Red Hood or something, I think you can go by whatever you wa-”

“Nightwing.”

Damian’s voice was so quiet when he said it, Tim almost thought he’d misheard, or that maybe Damian didn’t actually speak at all. That it was maybe a breeze, or a ghost.

But when Damian said nothing else, eyes still not on him, Tim realized he said exactly as he’d heard. “…Really?”

Damian nodded, but seemed to swallow a lump in his throat.

“I mean, those are quite some shoes to fill, especially after all these years, but…” Then Tim paused, replayed what Damian already said. “…Wait, why would you need my permission to use Dick’s old name?”

Damian still didn’t look at him. “Because last time I changed names, I took yours.” He frowned. “I stole yours.”

Tim shrugged. “It was over a decade ago. I know you and I have held a lot of grudges in our lives, but trust me. I’m over that one.”

“And I know Todd would never want Nightwing.” Damian continued as if Tim never spoke. “But…you were next in line. You loved Grayson like I did.” Finally, he looked up, eyes boring into Tim’s. “And you’d deserve it.”

Tim stepped back like someone had punched him in the chest. “Damian…”

“You do, and you know it.” Damian continued. “You’ve fought tooth and nail for respect in this family, for every title you’ve ever carried. You fought for your independence, and have thrived as Red Robin. In a way, you are everything Nightwing embodies, and you deserve the title most.” Damian’s gaze dropped once more. “And I don’t want to take that opportunity from you. Not like I’ve taken everything else from you too.”

Tim just stared.

“He would have chosen you himself. I know it. If he were…” Damian trailed off. Seemed to have to take a moment to compose himself. “…If he were still here.”

Tim lowered his own eyes at the thought. It’d been five years since their beloved older brother died. Despite what the world tried to say, time didn’t heal all wounds, and the loss of Dick Grayson was a wound that seemed almost infected now, especially for Damian.

The world was less without him. Less bright, less kind, less happy – less everything.

Just…less.

After a moment Tim smiled. Picked his head up and moved forward so he could crouch next to the chair, leaning his arms on it. Despite being twenty-three years old, Damian turned his head away so he didn’t have to look at Tim, just like a child.

“I don’t want Nightwing.” Tim said honestly. “I’m happy with where I am and what I’m doing. But I appreciate you asking. I’m…honored, in fact.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome. I guess.” Damian mumbled.

“But I have to say I disagree with you.” Tim leaned his chin on his arms. “Dick wouldn’t have picked me to succeed him. He wouldn’t have picked anyone. But he would have been so proud to see you take it on after him.”

Damian closed his eyes, sucked his lips between his teeth.

“Because, for once, I’ll toot my own horn a little bit. I won’t disagree with you on this one. Maybe I do deserve the Nightwing name.” Tim admitted. “But I’m not the only one.”

Damian didn’t answer, but shook his head.

“You do too, Damian.” Tim reached out and took his hand, squeezing it. “You’ve overcome so much. You’ve done so much. And Dick was proud of you for it until the day he died. I know he was.”

Damian opened his eyes and looked at Tim. The tears immediately fell down his cheeks.

“And he’d be honored, knowing you wanted to follow in his footsteps, and carry on his legacy, for a second time.” Tim chuckled. “Especially after your first words to us when you were a kid was how badly you wanted to be Batman.”

“One day I still will be.” Damian blubbered with a laugh. Tim laughed too.

“I know.” He hummed warmly. “But that was all a long, surprisingly emotionally-charged way to say: while it’s not mine to give, yes you have my permission to become Nightwing.”

Even as his tears continued to fall, Damian stared at Tim for a few more seconds, before leaning forward and, once again to Tim’s surprise, enveloped his older brother in a hug.

“Thank you, Drake.” He whispered. Tim just let his smile widen as he held Damian just as tightly back. “Thank you so much.”

~~

“Tim told me Damian finally picked a new name.” Conner said one morning, as the two of them sat on a rooftop overlooking Metropolis. “…He also mentioned you two might be dating?”

Jon’s eyes widened slightly as he tried to keep his heart rate in check. Damian had told Tim?

“He hasn’t told me about choosing a name.” Jon said instead. “When did this supposedly happen?”

“The other day. Maybe he hasn’t made it official yet.” Conner shrugged. Then he grinned. “Though you’d think he’d tell his boyfriend about it anyway.”

Jon frowned. “We’re not dating.” A hesitation. “Officially.”

“Ooooh.” Conner mocked, scooting closer. “Tell me everything.”

Jon rolled his eyes, but laughed as he pushed Conner’s shoulder. “First off, not your business. And second, there’s nothing to tell? We hang out. We hold hands. We…do things.”

Conner wiggled his eyebrows.

“Stop.” Jon chuckled. “I just…like being with him. Being close to him makes me feel happy. Safe. All that cliché stuff.”

“Has he reciprocated?” Jon nodded. “Then why not official?”

“His choice. I think he feels like he’d be judged for having actual emotions or something.” Jon shrugged. “I also think he feels like he’s…not good enough? Or a bad person, or something, and is hoping I might find someone else before we’re legit.”

“Ouch.”

“It sucks, but…I get it.” Jon sighed. “And he just…has stuff going on. Mentally, I think.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning we started flirting a little bit right before Dick died. So our whole relationship so far, romantically, he’s trying to deal with the loss, with the vacuum that loss created in his family, and growing in his role as a hero.” Jon listed. “He’s stuck in his own head so much that honestly I’m just happy when I can get him to smile some days.”

“That’s sweet.” Conner grinned. “And proof you’re head over heels.”

“I mean…did I ever deny that?” Jon grinned back, but it was sad. Conner’s own smile fell slightly.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Jon exhaled a bitter laugh. “That obvious?”

“Does he know?”

“I think so?” Jon thought out loud. “And I think that’s why he thinks himself such a terrible person.”

“Because he doesn’t love you back?”

“No, no. I think he absolutely does.” Jon said confidently. “It’s just like I said – he thinks himself as a bad person, and that I deserve better.”

“That’s…” Conner pursed his lips. “…quite the conundrum.”

“Yeah.” Jon smiled wistfully. “But anyway, the name. Did Tim say what name he chose?”

“Nope.” Conner kicked his feet against the building. “Tim said it was incredibly personal, and he wasn’t the one to share it.”

“Interesting.” Jon muttered. “Wonder what it could be?”

~~

He was twenty, very much an adult, but oh boy, did he feel like a rebellious teenager right now.

After all, how else were you supposed to feel when you and your not-quite-boyfriend were lying almost naked, cuddled up in your parents’ bed?

Somewhere in his mind he was panicking. If – when – they found out, he was doomed. He’d never live it down.

(But at the same time, it was also totally not his fault. Their apartment was closer to downtown than his was, and the room he still had here only had a single bed. There was no way they’d fit. And since his father was in space and his mother in the Philippines, the bed would have just gone to waste being empty, so…)

Though, simultaneously, any fear of repercussions was drowned out by the utter bliss he felt at being cocooned in Damian’s arms, and using his collarbone as a pillow while they watched the nightly news.

Under his ear, he felt Damian’s heartbeat slowing, a clear sign he was falling asleep. So it was the perfect time to ask:

“I hear you picked a new codename.”

Damian stirred a little and hummed, “Yeah.”

“What name did you pick, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Damian hesitated a moment, then whispered, “Promise you won’t laugh.”

“Never.”

“…Nightwing.” Damian answered sheepishly. Quietly, like he wasn’t allowed to say it. “I…decided to carry on Grayson’s legacy.”

Jon turned and looked up at him. Without thinking he cupped Damian’s cheek in his hand. “Oh, Damian, that’s wonderful.” Damian kept his gaze over Jon’s shoulder, face heating up in an embarrassed flush. “He’d love it, he’d be so happy.” He stroked his thumb across Damian’s skin. “I’m so proud of you.”

Damian snorted. “Nothing to be proud of. It took me five years to pick a name someone had already used.”

“For good reason.” Jon countered. “And an homage to a great man.”

Damian allowed himself to look at Jon now. He stared at him for a moment, taking in his face, then carefully took hold of Jon’s wrist, and leaned in for a kiss, which Jon ate up greedily.

After a moment, they separated, and Jon twisted back to stare at the TV, Damian’s arms still tight around him.

“…What about you?” Damian asked softly. “Any ideas?”

“I don’t know. Superdude is sounding better and better every day.” Jon said dryly. “But I guess I haven’t really been thinking about it either. Been focused on some other more important things lately.”

“Oh? Like what? School?”

Jon grinned, kept his eyes on the weather report now lighting up the room.

“You.”

Damian didn’t answer, but Jon felt him gently kiss his temple, and lean their heads together.

~~

“Mom said I should ask my dad.” Jon hummed as he paid for their coffee. “But we haven’t seen each other in a while, and you know more about Krypton and all that stuff than he does, you know?”

“Sure.” Kara smiled, taking her cup from his hand. “But that still doesn’t explain why you’re so interested in some old Kryptonian legend?”

“Just curiosity, mostly.” Jon shrugged. “Dad helped Dick Grayson become Nightwing back in the day, and now that Damian is taking the title on, I figured I should learn a little bit about it myself.”

“To support your future husband?” Kara smirked.

“Stop.” Jon groaned. “I should have never told Conner the truth.”

“I’m just glad to know you’re happy.” Kara squeezed his hand as they walked outside. “And also that I now have a viable reason to beat Damian up.”

“And that reason would be?”

“For the honor of my littlest cousin.” She winked. Jon found himself laughing. “Thanks for walking me back to the office, by the way. I’m sorry we couldn’t have lunch today.”

“I totally understand. I have to get back to campus for class soon anyway.” Jon waved off. “Rain check for a movie night, though?”

“Absolutely. Go buy a lot of tissues, wine and chocolate, because I am in the mood for some tearjerkers.” Kara demanded. “And…Damian is more than welcome to join us, if he’d like.”

“He’d never.” Jon promised as they jogged across a crosswalk. “But he’ll appreciate the invite.”

“Are you just saying that, or would he really?”

“Honestly, he really would.” Jon swore. “He’s trying not to take little things like that for granted anymore. Not since…well. You know.”

Kara frowned. “…I miss him too.”

“Everyone does.” Jon murmured as they stopped outside a building. Some people waved to Kara as they exited and jumped into a taxi nearby. “He was the best of all of us.”

“Give Damian my regards, and a hug for me. Tell him I’m sorry about Dick, if you think it’s appropriate.” Kara murmured as she turned to her purse, and began digging in it. After a moment, she held out a book. It looked old, and pages were misshaped, almost like they’d been gnawed on, or burned. “First, last and only edition.”

Jon took the tome, marveling at the etched green cover, and symbols seemingly floating around the image. But then he frowned. “Kara.” He sighed. “You know my Kryptonian isn’t that good.”

“Well then this will be a great tool to learn.” She smiled, squeezing his bicep. Someone suddenly called Kara from the door. She smiled and waved back before glancing to Jon. “Gotta go, kiddo. It was great seeing you! Tell your pops hi for me!”

She turned, and began to jog away, when Jon called after her. “Kara, wait!”

She did, glancing over her shoulder.

“Give me a quick summary?” He tried with a lopsided grin. “You know, to keep me interested?”

Kara twisted her lips in thought, then smiled. “Nightwing and Flamebird always find each other in the end.”

She took a sip of her coffee and disappeared into her office.

~~

By two o’clock in the morning that very night, Jon sat at the desk in his apartment, tears pouring down his face.

The legend was magical, breathtaking, awe-inspiring…but heartbreaking. The most heartbreaking thing he’d ever read.

But it also made him realize exactly what he needed to do. Exactly what his future was.

Exactly who his future was.

Without thinking, he wiped the tears from his eyes, and laughed as he stood, turning towards his window.

It would be a quick flight to Gotham, and surely Alfred was still awake at this hour.

~~

Damian stood on the top of Wayne Tower, staring at the city below him. The city he’d come to think of as home. The city that was…his.

He felt weird without the cape, without the hood. Was still getting used to the tight, plain bodysuit. The lighter armour. The dip of red across his chest.

He could take Grayson’s name, but he could never take his colors. That blue was too pure. Damian refused to taint it.

He inhaled and held his breath, then exhaled slowly. It was his first night in his new gear – would the villains know who he was? Would they mock him? Could he live up to his brother’s standards? Would he honor his memory?

“Damn.” He heard off to his side. “You look good.”

Damian glanced over, and found himself at a loss for words. The other man was in a similarly simple bodysuit, though instead of black, it was a deep blue. Opposite of the downward red arrow on Damian’s chest, the bright, near-blinding golden arrow on the other pointed upwards, almost looking like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

Damian stared for a moment, taking it in, before meeting Jon’s eyes. “This is new.”

“You like?” Jon asked, practically shy. “Alfred helped me make it.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” Jon stepped forwards. His boots, which matched the shimmering yellow on his chest, seemed to flicker as he walked, like fire. “I mean, he helped make yours, and it’s only natural our designs match a little bit.”

“Why would they need to match?” Damian asked. Then he squinted. “Jonathan Kent, have you chosen a new moniker?”

“I did indeed.” Jon grinned. “Surely Dick told you how he got his name.”

“He did.”

“Did he tell you the story behind it?”

“He did not. But I’ve heard of it.” Damian found his voice going quieter, his throat drying up. “Your father told me, I believe.”

“Mhm.” Jon reached out, gently taking Damian’s hand in his, raising it between them. “And do you remember how it goes?”

Damian blinked, then smiled. “Refresh my memory.”

“Nightwing can’t exist without Flamebird.” Jon smirked. He pressed his lips to Damian’s knuckles. “And no matter the universe, no matter the situation, they always find each other in the end.”

“…Well, Flamebird.” Damian whispered softly. “I’m glad you found me.”

“I’m glad you found me too.” Jon stood back up. “Ready for our first official patrol in the new digs? Say goodbye to Robin and Superboy forever?”

“Do you want to call it our first official patrol?” Damian let his grin widen. “Or perhaps our first official date?”

Jon gaped at him, eyes wide and hopeful. “For real?”

“For real.” Damian promised. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting-”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Jon surged forward, wrapping him in his arms and lifting him off the tower’s ledge as he smashed their mouths together. Damian let his surprise linger for only a second, before grabbing both sides of Jon’s head and returning the gesture.

The moment felt like it lasted both an eternity and no longer than a blink. When they parted, they were both out of breath, and trembling from the emotional adrenaline.

“Flamebird.” Damian breathed as Jon lowered him, his hands still on Jon’s face. “I think I like it.”

“Good. Because I didn’t have any backups.” Jon chuckled.

“It suits you, I think.” Damian smiled.

“Nightwing suits you just as well.” Jon countered. “…Dick would be so proud.”

Damian just lowered his gaze, but allowed himself to keep smiling.

“…Well.” Damian exhaled, looking out into the city. “Shall we?”

Jon bowed, holding his arm out. “After you, ‘Wing.”

Damian laughed and turned, stepping off the building and allowing himself to freefall. “Follow me, ‘Bird.”

Jon smiled, and jumped right after him.

[saultnpeppah]

Day 8: The Morning After

Once upon a time, there was an event called "Steps to the Altar" and although young Sault had taken part in this event, she soon fell behind in her work, leaving this last chapter unfinished, forgotten in drafts hidden in the depths of her computer. But then, one day, from the recesses of her mind, came inspiration to finish this, giving a sexy ending any WonderBat fan would love. So it is with great honor that I share this ending.

Haha, sorry y'all. I promised a Morning After, and now, after months, I have delivered! I hope you like, and I hope you enjoyed this event when it went on.

January 2. Gotham Heights. 08:13.

Diana

I am a married woman. I am now someone's wife. The thought forces my lips into a smile as I shift in bed, my arms reaching to stretch over the empty mattress my husband was laying in minutes earlier. A yawn escapes my lips as I continue to stretch, trying to ready myself for the day of travel ahead. I would normally make sure to get a good night's sleep before a long flight, but Bruce and I stayed up long into the night, consummating our relationship as a married couple over and over again. The man is insatiable, not that I mind. I love the fact that Bruce can never seem to get enough of me. It drives me wild and he knows this. However, as I stare at our packed suitcases parked right by the door, I wish I could just burrow into the blankets and get a few more hours of sleep, get myself well rested so I can thoroughly enjoy every second of my honeymoon.

"You're up."

I stop mid stretch and turn to face the bathroom, where Bruce stands, leaning against the doorway in nothing but a towel that hangs low on his hips. He is teasing me, trying to get me to take the bait, and as tempting as it is, I would like to be on the plane before noon.

"No," I whisper, "you're seeing things." I turn over and pull the blanket up and over my shoulder. "I'm asleep."

Bruce chuckles. "Well if you're asleep, I suppose I can crawl back into bed with you and recuperate from last night."

I glance over my shoulder and watch as he makes his way to the bed, one of his hands clutching the loose knot on the towel, making sure to keep it secure as he walks. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed and bends down, placing his face inches from my own as he stares at me silently. "I love you," he says after a moment, leaning in to kiss the tip of my nose.

I flash him a smile and say, "I love you too," before I pull the blanket from my body. There is a look of disappointment on his face when he glances down, saddened to see that I am no longer nude under the covers. "It was cold and I had to get up to pee," I explain, gently tugging on his white undershirt that now covers my breasts and stomach, skimming my thighs as I remain curled in the bed.

"You look wonderful in my clothing," he whispers with a smirk. He places his hand high on my thigh and I let out a gasp at how cold his fingers are despite his scolding shower. He places a kiss on my neck and I don't need to see his face to know he is showing that smug grin he loves to wear, and whispers, "But you look much better without anything on."

I give him a small chuckle, trying to distract my husband from noticing just how much that one kiss can make the need for him to skyrocket. His fingers graze higher on my thigh and I have to bite my lip to keep the moan that threatens to rip from my lips, silent. He moves his hand, letting it disappear under the shirt, smiling as his fingers graze the side of my breast. "We need to get going if we want to make it before dark," I whisper, trying to focus on the words I am speaking rather than how Bruce's fingers are making me feel.

Bruce nods once and moves his wrist, letting the shirt ride up high onto my stomach, exposing more skin for him to tease. "The plane will wait," he says as he drops a kiss to the newly exposed skin on my abdomen. "But right now, I need to have sex with my gorgeous wife."

He catches my lips in a sweet kiss, soft and tender, as his hands continue to move up my body, playfully pulling the shift up and over my body, breaking the kiss momentarily allowing him to pull the shirt over my head and discard it onto the floor beside the bed. "You didn't get enough last night?" I ask with a smug smile.

Bruce shakes his head. "I will never be able to get enough," he says. Once again he captures my lips with his own, only this kiss is different. It is more feverish, more heated. We soon lose ourselves, soon becoming a mix of heated kisses and heavy touches that ignite a passion within our bodies neither of us can put into words.

His hand runs down my side, his fingers delicately dancing along my skin as his lips push harder against mine. I part my lips, letting a small gasp out when his finger caresses the small dip near my hip, which only ignites Bruce more. He removes his lips from mine, a smile on his face as he lowers his head and places a kiss on my collarbone, moving toward my throat. "You're beautiful," he whispers as he dips his head even lower and places another kiss on the side of my left breast.

His hands continue their journey along my body, stopping at my thighs to give a gentle squeeze, which elicits another small gasp. He parts my thighs, his hands grasping my knees, a wicked smirk on his face as his eyes meet mine. "I love you," he whispers, as he leans forward and captures my lips with his once more.

"I love you too," I respond in between kisses. My fingers begin a journey of their own, trailing down his chest, down to his hips, settling on the loose knot of the towel he wears. I quickly pull on the knot, letting it become undone, before I pull the towel from Bruce's body leaving him as bare as I am. My hands continue their exploration of Bruce's body, stopping only when I grasp him firmly in my hand.

Bruce lets out a small gasp when he feels my hand wrapped around him. He releases one of my knees and runs a finger along my core, biting my lip when he feels just how ready I am for him.

Bruce places a hand firmly on the bed near my head, balancing himself as he pushes into my body, holding back the groan I know threatens to spill from his lips. He leans down to kiss me, letting our lips meld together as our bodies become one. His hips begin a rhythm that soon has me gasping for both breath and his skin, pulling him closer, letting his bare chest collide against mine. My hands wander over his back, gently running over the scarred skin that has endured years of self-abuse. His hand finds my thigh and when I tilt my hips in one swift movement, his fingers dig into the skin as he lets out a gasp.

"You do that again and I won't be able to help myself," he says through gritted teeth, warning me of his impending climax.

I give him a grin and roll my hips once more, daring him to do what he has threatened. This does the trick, as he grabs my hips and pulls me closer, burying himself in me even further, eliciting a sound from my lips no one but Bruce has ever been able to coax out. He smirks when he hears me call his name, knowing his name will be the only name I will say like this, as his hips begin to quicken their movements.

Without warning my body tightens around Bruce. He continues his movements, watching as I hit that delicious peak and enjoy the climb down, before he buries his head into the crook of my shoulder, biting down as he enjoys his own orgasm.

When he is finished he hovers over me, looking into my eyes, trying to remain as motionless as possible. Our breathing is labored and although we've both accomplished our goal, neither of us move or make any attempt to separate.

"I love you," he whispers once again, the third time this morning, bending down to give me a sweet kiss before he finally separates our bodies, much to my dismay. "I think I need another shower," he jokes as he lays on the bed beside me, our sweat clad bodies still basking in the after glow of sex.

"I need one first," I say. He turns onto his side and reaches over, letting his finger dance on my bottom lip, before he taps the tip of my nose.

"I suppose I can let you take all the hot water," he says, letting out an overexaggerated sigh.

"Remind me next time to marry someone who can afford more hot water," I joke. Bruce feigns hurt, before he lets out a chuckle, and I sit up, letting out a content sigh. "But we do need to hurry," I say. "Your pilot is going to wonder where we are."

Bruce shrugs. "That's the beauty of owning your own private jet," he says, a bit of arrogance in his voice, "you get to make up the schedule." He looks up at me and takes notice of my deadpanned face. "I'm joking," he says, raising his hands in defense. "We'll get going soon, I promise. That way I can spend our whole honeymoon trying to get my beautiful wife pregnant." He winks and flashes me a smirk as he rises from the bed, getting a towel from the cabinet by the bathroom door.

My gaze follows him, stopping as my eyes catch my reflection in the mirror. My hair is disheveled, there is sweat on my brow, and my cheeks are flushed, but I don't know if it's from the sex or what Bruce has said. The two of us have casually talked about starting a family, but never enough to fully gage Bruce's timeline. I had always assumed he had wanted children eventually, maybe a few years from now, but his comment about wanting to try for a baby now takes me back. Not that I would mind.

"So soon?" I ask.

Bruce nods, a large grin on his face. "I've been thinking about it a lot," he says. He hands me the towel and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. "I know we just got married, but a family with you, that's what I want. And don't think I haven't seen the way you stare at babies. You my dear wife, have a case of baby fever."

I cross my arms over my chest and furrow my eyebrows. "I have no idea what you mean," I say, willing my voice not to give away anything.

Bruce places a hand on his chin and pretends to think. "Okay," he says. He snatches his phone from the night stand and flips through a few photos, flashing his screen at me as he shows me the picture of me holding Charlie's baby last night, a wide smile on my face as I held the infant close. "I see the way you are with kids, and I know you've always wanted to be a mother. I just want you to know, I want them too. And whether that's now, or in a few years, I'll wait as long as you need-"

I lean in and kiss Bruce, not needing to hear anything more. This man is literally a dream come true and I can't believe I was too stupid to see it years ago. "This," I say, pulling away from him. "This is what I want."

Bruce nods, understanding what I mean, no matter how vague I am. He leans in and gives me another kiss, slowly moving the hair from my face. I stand from the bed and make my way into the bathroom, jumping into the shower, knowing that whatever we decide, it'll all be worth it.