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updownlately · 7 months

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it was late at night (you held on tight)

| alessia x reader | hurt/comfort | 2.4k | disclaimer: slight mention of heavy topics- read at your own discretion! | a/n: based of this and another ask (that i lost). got it a while ago, inspo struck now, yenno the drill- i do reqs eons after they're sent in. to the anon that req'd it, it's not the most angst to fluff but i hope it's fine? space song just radiates h/c vibes and so yeah...anyways, happy reading folks!

“it was late at night, you held on tight from an empty seat, a flash of light it will take a while to make you smile somewhere in these eyes, i’m on your side" "tender is the night for a broken heart who will dry your eyes when it falls apart?”

~~~

Some nights were good.

The type of good where breathing came easy.

Where the air was light, the stars bright.

Nights where friends felt like family, a house a home.

Dark hours where light shone easily, mind at peace.

Nights where everything felt okay- good even- for a short while.

However, tonight? Tonight unfortunately was not one of those nights.

Not when all you could do was sit in the corner of your living room, knees hugged to your chest, eyes trained on your window as you stared at the light-polluted sky.

Not when all you tried to do was figure out if any one of the stars in the sky was staring down at you, cheering for you, once on this earth, a being, now gone.

Not when all you were left with was a treasure chest full of memories, ones you so desperately wished you could bury deep, deep into the ground, hopefully, slowly, eventually to be forgotten so you could move on.

Tonight was not a good night, and as you shuffled uncomfortably on the hard floor, your eyes fell on your phone settled beside you, the glaring message from a few minutes ago taunting you, it reminded you painfully so.

‘Are you okay?’

It had to be criminal, the way she knew you so well.

Three texts you hadn’t responded to throughout the day and bam, the guess that you weren’t okay.

You’d call her overprotective if she wasn’t right, but she was, and you didn’t know what to do.

Hovering over the send button, your eyes traced over what you had typed, having already gone back and changed it nearly four times before settling on debating whether you should send this.

The simple ‘no’ that was typed out in the text box glared back at you almost pleadingly, your heart turning in your chest, the implications of the word terrifying.

You could hit send, and it would be okay. You could hit send and she’d probably come over and it would be alright. You could. But could you really?

Because she’d make the drive out at nearly eleven at night. Because something could happen on the way over and you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself. Because you were supposed to be strong, for fuck’s sake. You were an adult, you could handle a little bit of gloominess, right? Because you didn’t need help, you were the helper. Because this wasn’t fair to her, and you didn’t want to be a burden- you couldn’t be a burden.

Swallowing the lump in your throat as the small voice in your head got louder, you took ahold of your phone, bringing it up to your face.

You could send this, or you couldn’t.

You could make it through the night, but she’d make it easier.

You could be strong, but asking for help didn’t make you any weak.

You could sit here and hurt, alone, but you didn’t have to.

Sharply inhaling, your other hand curling into a near-painful fist, nails digging into your palm, you pressed and held the button with the arrow you promptly locked your phone, tossing it gently to the rug in front of you instantly after, the voices in your head getting just a tad bit louder with each passing minute.

You’d be okay…eventually.

~~~

It’s nearly twenty minutes later that you hear the gentle knocks ring through the apartment.

You make no move to get up, however.

In fact, you couldn’t get up even if you tried.

Mind frozen as the consequences of your actions finally set in, all you could do was stay rooted to your spot as you heard another set of knocks ring through before the tell tale sound of a key turning in the lock reached your ears.

Head rising from where it had been resting on your arms, you stared intently at the hallway by your front door, the opening and closing of the door distinct, your breath stilling with each footstep that made its way closer towards you.

“Hey?”

The soft voice floated down the hallway, the lump in your throat lessening ever so slight at the mere sound of the blonde. Yet, you couldn’t muster up the courage to speak, the fact that she was here still not having sunk in.

You listened closely as Alessia’s cautious footfalls slowly picked up pace, the worry clear in her voice as she called out again, this time more confidently.

“Love?”

Just barely finding your voice as she reached the threshold of the living room, your dark figure called out quietly, if nothing than to save her from panicking any further.

“I’m here…”

Your meek reply was accompanied by you raising your hand ever so slightly, one eye wincing as an embarrassed look crossed your face.

Watching ashamedly as Alessia raked her eyes over your figure, you awkwardly lowered your hand as she stepped towards you.

You waited for her to question you. To question the three texts you had missed earlier. To question why your apartment was bathed in darkness. Why you were on the floor.

You waited for the questions. You waited for the disappointment.

You waited only for it to never come.

Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, you stared, mouth agape, as she silently made way to sit beside you, an arm coming to rest on your shoulder as she stretched out her long legs.

You wouldn’t know it, but you looked like a wreck. The way your hair was unruly, tangles clear as strands flew in every which direction.

Tear stained cheeks just barely visible in the dim light shining from the window. The way your knees were tucked to your chest made you look tiny, both combining easily to wordlessly convey that you needed a little bit of extra love today.

It was why Alessia silently made way to sit beside you, ignoring the questions running rampant in her mind.

Letting her emotions make the calls, she quietly let her heart speak, the arm resting on your shoulders gently bringing you closer to her, your head now leaning on her shoulder.

It seemed like the right move too, with the way you immediately sighed at the contact, tension deflating ever so slightly as you let yourself rest, revelling in the tender care.

And it’s how the pair of you sat, leant up against each other, heartbeat a bit more regular, breaths a bit easier, as the sky got darker, the stars a tad bit brighter.

Intently watching as you slowly got more comfortable, she took note of your puffy eyes, the dark circles clear beneath them, the tired sag of your shoulders even though you both had been only sat for the past bit. It was clear that the tiredness wasn’t a day to day type of exhaustion, and that worried her the most.

This wasn’t you- not the normal you.

The normal you ran on full batteries, always- lovingly nicknamed the team’s very own ‘Energizer bunny’.

The normal you whose smile would light up any room, presence enough to bring a ray of light, airy positivity never too far from where you’d be.

The normal you that everyone got to see.

But this? The side that not many saw? Alessia wanted to make sure it was a secret for the right reasons. That it remained unknown by many because you never felt low often, because if she could, if it was in her control, she’d make sure that a smile would permanently be on your face, effortlessly.

So as minutes passed, the quarter of an hour flying by, then nearly a half an hour, the pair of you didn’t move, Alessia well aware that comfort was the best she could give right now.

Despite how uncomfortable the ground had gotten, the blonde didn’t dare say a word, instead choosing to hide her discomfort by turning slightly towards you, arms coming to wrap around your torso and head as you two slouched slightly against the wall.

She’d sit her for as long as you'd need her to.

Consumed by the silence, she rubbed gentle circles into your shoulder blades, hoping the action could provide some sort of grounding presence as your breaths slowly evened, head becoming heavier as it rested, your grip on her arm loosening.

It was only when the clock nearly hit midnight, when the city slowly geared to a stop, did she speak- a hushed voice squeezing through the calm.

“Did you eat yet?”

The question had you stiffening, quickly being pulled out of your calming state into one of disdain.

Because of course she’d know you weren’t taking care of yourself.

Eyebrows furrowing in worry as you shook your head in response, you not meeting her gaze, the striker gently straightened, bringing you up with her.

“If I make you a snack, and I promise it’ll be a snack, would you have a couple bites?”

Some T&C couldn’t hurt, right?

The gentle question had your stomach sinking, the thought of consuming anything in this state nearly unbearable, yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to disappoint her- not after she came to check in on you.

Hesitantly nodding, you watched as Alessia studied you, the blonde mirroring your nods encouragingly as she began to rise from the ground, hand extended towards you, pulling you up as well.

Leading you to your kitchen, she helped you settle on a bar stool, foregoing the main lights and instead turning on the range lights, aware that you more likely preferred a darker setting right now.

Quickly making a sandwich, the blonde presented you with a plate, taking a seat beside you as her hand went to rest on your thigh in quiet reassurance.

Reaching for one half, so she could encourage you, the Gunner held it out expectantly, small smile on her face as she waited for you to bump yours against her.

Unable to keep a straight face at her antics, a small but grateful smile broke through your face, Alessia’s mission successful. Bringing your own half up to gently knock against hers before taking a deep breath in, you watched as she eyed you whilst taking a bite out of her sandwich, gesturing at you to do the same.

Matching your pace, not pressuring you to eat anything you didn’t want but eating with you in support, the both of you managed to slowly but surely finish, your mind already a little distracted from the spiral earlier.

You watched as Alessia gathered your dishes, tossing them in the sink to be dealt with in the morning, and quickly cleaned up the kitchen, wiping the island free of crumbs, turning off the light, and washing her hands before making her way over to you once again.

Intertwining your hands in the dim light from outside, she raised her eyebrows at you, a small yawn escaping her, inciting one from you.

“How are we feeling about heading to bed?”

She pressed a quick kiss to your forehead at your quick small nods of agreement, glad that you were at least coming out of your shell a bit, a tiny but sure indicator that you were pulling out of the storm in your mind.

Leading you both to your bedroom, the other girl well familiar with your apartment and you trusting her easily to guide you, you followed compliantly.

With Alessia quickly changing into a spare set of clothes she kept at your place, and you into a pair of old shorts and an oversized t-shirt from years ago, the both of you quietly did your night time routines, never apart for more than a few seconds.

Be it brushing your teeth or as you took turns cleansing your face, the both of you were attached at the hip, you for your own sanity and the comforting aura of the taller girl, and Alessia because she felt better knowing you were okay beside her.

It was only when the both of you were ready to sleep did you make your way over to the bed, each going to your own respective sides, having spent the night at each other’s place countless times before.

Minutes later, when you’re both settled in, cuddled up near the middle of the mattress as you lay your head on Alessia’s shoulder, your body nearly covering hers whilst she had one arm wrapped around your waist and another running through your hair, the room bathed in near darkness save for the light that sneaked through the drawn curtains, you let yourself break gently, the comfort of her arms safe.

Silent tears leaving your eyes, you quickly felt them wiped away by the girl below you, the hand that was running through your hair now resting on your cheek without question, ready to catch any more tears that would fall.

It’s in the shelter of her arms that you let the quiet words slip, the admission causing a stabbing pain in your chest as it reminded you of why life felt so bleak as of late.

“I miss them…”

“I know love, I know….”

There was a pause in the air after the hushed words, Alessia adjusting herself so that her arms came to fully encircle you, trapping you in a bubble of her warmth.

Pressing her lips to your crown, muffled words escaped her, the reassuring tone bringing you a small breath of relief, her belief in you lifting a weight off your chest.

“You’ll be okay though, soon enough, yeah? And until then, you’ve got me, I’m on your side.”

Nodding surely at that statement, not a doubt in your mind that the blonde would always be there for you, like you would for her, you let your grip tighten, the silent thank you easily spoken as you let the tiredness and warmth take over you.

Alessia’s presence making even the worst of nights a little easier, a tad bit more bearable, you let yourself drift off into a dreamless sleep, well-aware you were in safe hands.

Early in the day, or late at night, you knew that at the end of the day, she would be there in an instant to dry your eyes, and you loved her more than ever for it.

#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso community #woso #my writing #fic req #hurt/comfort #iwlan #fic

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quinloki · 28 days

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…… it is consuming all of my brain function I barely have brain cells to rub together for ANYTHING ELSE RN IM SO SORRY ITS SO LONG

Marco and Sabo who aren't actually from conflicting organizations, they're from organizations that are partnered (whitebeard/revolutionaries) but they have this weird rivalry (mostly on Sabo's side tbh) bc Ace and Sabo grew up together but Ace didn't join the same organization bc Sabo disappeared similar to canon but they were reunited at some point and ace yapped his ear off about his partner marco

anyways the organizations both have someone in their eye (reader) and decide to work together to obtain the asset. however ace is trash at undercover work so they send sabo and marco together instead

reader works for croc maybe doing something similar to what robin used to do and kinda similar vibes to nami in a sense of owing croc a bunch of money they occasionally prowl the casino floor looking for dudes to 'rip off' to help pay the debt down

and oh look it's a pair of brothers talking about how their dad left them a bunch of money and they've never done this before time to get them drunk and clean them out ofc they'll only act drunk and you offer to escort them up to their room safely

then bam drugged and you're out cold and stuffed in a suitcase and they're out of there (but being followed oh nooo) and you wake up in a totally different hotel room and you try to fight them but trained spies so you basically just end up pinned like we're ready to make you a better deal than crocodile just calm down and you're like ???? wait you're not here to use me against crocodile??? i'm down I was only working for him bc I owed him money and his new business partner (doffy) gives me the creeps so what can you offer

and sabo is like what is this stockholm syndrome already and marco just shakes his head and sighs and they basically outline what the organizations are looking for/offer which is like 10x better than working for crocodile so you accept but oop yall are still being followed so spy shenandigans and little scuffles follow and you travel a lot trying to get back to their base

and it puts you all in very close proximity for some time often sharing hotel rooms and then one time the only room available is one bed and ofc then comes the bickering of who will sleep where with the guys planning on the floor and it's like come on we're all adults here it'll be fine (famous last words) and ofc yall wake up snuggled together and sabo is interally like wtfff that's the best I've slept probably ever

and yall have all been practically attached at the hip for safety so everyone is pent up and they both get some morning wood and its like this is wrong yall are brothers and they're like we're not real brothers?? and then you're like oh. well then.

fun times ensue and after it's a bit awkward like well what do we do now but then bam croc's men catch up so it's run away and not think about that time and there's a few more stops between then and getting back to safety and a few more fun times and then yall are seperated when you get back and it's like aw it's over but they start sneaking in to see you and it's like welp I guess this is a thing

and you see them together and seperate and while they see eachother in your company they see very little of eachother outside of it bc they're dealing with eachother for you except marco is very good at putting sabo under him and riling him up and it's always so hot to watch especially when marco orders sabo to do specific things to you

and yall have fun like that for awhile and then ofc there's some drama like maybe croc's men finally sneak in and snatch you up but you're like a beloved member of both organizations so they'll go to war for you and snatch you back and the boys are so happy to have you back they spend days showing you just how much

anyways brain is empty rn imma go to bed and maybe think about more or just more specific sexy times so sorry for the brain dump love you lots hope you enjoyed <3333

Okay - no but that was an awesome ride \o/

You’re in bad with Crocodile, and Doffy wants to “help”, but gods the strings attached to that offer are so bad you’d rather sleep with Croc honestly, but that’s not happening because your relationship with him is exceptionally negative in this story. (I imagine to the point of his cigars making you rankle.)

In come easy marks Sabo and Marco, and oh it’s fun and flirting as you ply these men with drinks and compliments. They even give you small gifts in exchange, tips whether they win big or not. The flirting becoming more heated as the drinks continue in.

Neither is really affected. Sabo’s tolerance is legendary, and Marco can’t even get drunk because of the Phoenix. At least not drinking so little. (He’d slammed a gallon or two once in frustration and had managed to feel drunk for minute or two.

Once the facade is dropped and things are explained (helluva hook you have there, Sabo admits, having taken a wild swing to the jaw), your on board. But you have concerns - your bullshit debt aside, you’re an asset to Croc, he doesn’t let go of assets.

Worry not, their bases are in the New World, and Croc’s connections are in Paradise. It’s going to be a long trip - island hopping down the grand line to reach the Red Line and safety. Weeks and months of staying under the radar and keeping close.

You’re the one to admit you don’t mind some stress relief as long as it doesn’t get weird. They’re brothers - oh wait they aren’t - okay but you’ll be coworkers of a sort, no mixing business and pleasure. We’re all adults here.

Your only concern is that these orgasms aren’t going to be outdone because it’s criminal how well these two work your body. You make it to the Red Line - feelings are caught, you’re caught, war breaks out.

Confessions and concessions as you drown in your two sweet blonde boys, never to be worried about anyone or anything no matter how dangerous it gets.

I love it - it’s a very action packed take on the ideas for Outnumbered, and I love the emotions tied to reader getting kidnapped/saved.

#quin answers #reader insert #x reader #kazieai #marco the phoenix #revolutionary sabo #sabo the revolutionary

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piss-stained-jorts · 3 months

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frozenjokes · 8 months

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Signing Back In, Apparently - 15

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Pearl knew something was different today, something was wrong . Even still, it felt wrong to assume where he was going when he left the group for some time alone. It was wrong- and Mumbo didn’t deserve to live under her scrutiny no matter how much she wanted to protect him. They were both adults making their own adult decisions, and besides, Mumbo had granted her peace to work on her own Scar-related endeavors, so Pearl would give him the same opportunities.

But something was still wrong. The feeling never left her, not even after five, ten, fifteen minutes. In fact, Pearl only felt worse as the seconds passed, like something inextricably linked to her was about to be shattered. It didn’t take very long for her to excuse herself from the group as well, but only to better track the time. She could watch the clock in the tavern, pet Jellie, and most importantly, calm down. But Pearl did not calm down. She could hear talking from upstairs, one voice clearly Scar’s, but the tone sounded level. She yearned to hear a raised voice, or even a scuffle; anything for an excuse to intervene, but nothing felt like enough . She bit her lip, digging her nails into her legs. Scar could do anything. He could hurt Mumbo in a million different ways, and she would have to know she chose to sit and do nothing to stop it. Ten more minutes passed. Just when she couldn’t stand to stay away, she heard a door open, and Scar’s voice broke through more clearly.

“Now, don’t you get to thinking these wings are anything but a pain in the ass, but I will say, I’m starting to think there’s a reason my back has been feeling alright this week. Gosh, it’s even bearable now! That’s modern medicine for you!”

Pearl didn’t have much time to process before the door shut closed, and Scar came ambling down the stairs. He wore that smug-looking smile, as he always did, but his expression dropped upon seeing her on the landing.

“I go all week without seeing a wink of any of you, and bam! Two in the same hour! You’ve got good timing though, Pearl, Mumbo could use some support. He’s in quite the state, and for good reason,” Scar trailed off for a moment, snapping his fingers as if trying to retrieve a lost thought, “Ah, and you should know, I appreciate you! For keeping me on my toes, y’know? You’ve always had spirit, and I’m glad to see you’ve never lost that fire. Call me sentimental, but I’m feeling nostalgic,” Scar walked directly through her as he spoke, not even turning around as he continued, “Send Impulse and Grian my way, and they might get their own Scar patented appreciation message. Hell, maybe I’ll even let Cleo in on the action, she’s been dying to know about you guys, and I’m in quite the mood.”

Pearl didn’t stick around to hear more, the rest of Scar’s rambling fading into the background as she made her way up the stairs. If Scar was in this good of a mood after speaking with a ghost, something catastrophic must have happened. Given the energy pulsing from outside of Scar’s room, that seemed to be the case. She wasted no time before going inside.

“Oh god, Mumbo-” the words left Pearl’s mouth before she knew she was saying them, her body rushing forward. Mumbo’s rippling form was a heap on the floor, hardly recognizable as the shape of a person. He was literally falling apart; not just his back, but with cracks splintering through his arms, legs, face- Pearl had never seen it this bad. That damn ouija board sat on the ground beside him, and she couldn’t help but notice the blood splattered across the center. Had Scar been injured? She hadn’t noticed.. It didn’t matter now. Pearl felt something in her own form shift as she sat at his side.

“Pearl,” Mumbo’s voice came out as a wheeze, an odd, almost clicking noise behind the notes of his words, “Don’t be angry. Don’t.. Impulse and Grian..”

“I’m not angry, Mumbo, no one will be angry and you don’t have to worry, okay? Focus on yourself. Try and stay together. You’re going to get through this.” Out of habit, Pearl reached for Mumbo’s hand, but it was malformed, barbed(?) and beyond that, shattered into dozens of pieces. She bit her lip and settled for his arm instead, squeezing.

“I ruined the- I couldn’t stay away!” Mumbo nearly wailed, the desperation of his fear slamming through Pearl. She winced, keeping her tight hold. The clicks and buzzes spinning through Mumbo’s voice grew in volume and speed, “Don’t tell them. Don’t let them see. Please. ”

Pearl drew in a sharp breath as another crack fractured Mumbo’s body, accentuating his panic. Hiding this from Grian and Impulse.. No, it was undoubtedly a bad idea. Comparatively, she and Mumbo weren’t even very close, especially after their deaths. Pearl couldn’t help him alone . But would telling them send Mumbo over the edge? He was too fragile, she needed to be careful. She needed to prevent what happened to Grian from happening to Mumbo first, and then she could get more help. He needed to feel secure. She was going to have to try.

“I know a place, Mumbo, where we can talk just the two of us. Grian and Impulse don’t know, I only go when I need some time alone. No one will see you there.” Pearl held tight to the flash of hope in Mumbo’s eyes. For a second, his form slid back into something more solid as his focus changed to moving, to getting up, but flared again as his body moved in a hundred different pieces, none of which seemed to command much control.

“I can’t-” Mumbo’s voice peaked, panic rising.

“I’ll carry you. Don’t worry about the parts that lag behind, they’ll catch up. I’m kind of an expert in that department,” Pearl risked a small smile, gesturing to her torso, permanently split in two. The wretched look Mumbo returned to her was enough to shatter her heart into a thousand little pieces. She moved to scoop him up, taking extra care to hold his head and upper body together for some semblance of wholeness, letting the rest drag slowly behind. Relief fell over her when she felt his arms tighten around her back, even despite the barbs running down them. It was quite the effort to get around without spending too much time in the open, but her private spot just so happened to be underground, so she just needed to find a different route. Not too bad considering she knew this island like the back of her hand, but the pressure of Mumbo’s flickering form in her arms was enough to make her own body defect.

Finally, they made it. Pearl’s spot was a small cavern cut from the side of a cliff face, one of the only places on the island where the elevation was high enough to house anything underneath it. It looked out on the sea, and it was beautiful. It was hers. For a human, it would be treacherous to navigate; spiked rocks dotted the cave and the waters below, only barely hidden at low tide. Wouldn’t be very comfortable either, as rogue waves often broke through the entrance, soaking the floor and anyone unlucky enough to be standing too close. But she wasn’t human. The rocks made her feel safe, and the waves were exciting; she could almost feel their cold when they would crash through her body. She could almost remember the taste of the salty water. Regret pricked at her stomach knowing it wouldn’t be a secret anymore, especially if she managed to find Grian and Impulse. Well, there was no time to linger. She bent down at the back of the cavern, setting the largest pieces of Mumbo down while the rest caught up behind her. However, Mumbo only tightened his grip as Pearl tried to stand back up, so she joined him, if for no other reason than to save her back from being shredded.

“I’m not going anywhere, you’re going to be okay,” she whispered, met with a long silence. At this point, she wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad sign. What was she supposed to do? Should she ask what happened? Stay quiet? Would it be a bad thing to remind Mumbo he had claws or barbs or whatever it was on his arms, and that it very much hurt? Pearl began to feel like a cornered animal. She wasn’t built for this. Impulse was good at this kind of stuff- talking, emotions- and Grian always seemed to know how to say the right thing to release tension. Why had she anticipated a fight instead of whatever was happening here?

“Pearl,” Mumbo rasped, snapping her from her own thoughts, “It’s not going to get better. He- this was supposed to fix me, but I still feel it. The pull, it’s still there, and I got what I wanted and it’s still there.”

“I don’t understand,” Pearl looked for answers in his face, but it was buried in her shoulder. This helplessness hurt more than anything in the world. She couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t say anything, only looking dumbly at the back of his head, like staring would do anything to fix the cracks. Maybe instead, she could be angry. She could stop the man that did this. “What did Scar do, Mumbo?”

Mumbo’s body seized in response, possibly a reaction to Scar’s name, but Pearl couldn’t repress a yelp as Mumbo’s arms tore into her back.

“No- I’m hurting you!” Mumbo startled, pushing back with some pieces of his shattered legs, ultimately falling back when he lost his balance. “I can't- I’m sorry!” If Mumbo’s body had relaxed at all in these past minutes, all that progress was immediately erased, the air filling with more buzzes and clicks. Pearl nearly covered her eyes as his body rippled with color and light, but forced herself forward to grab him.

“You’re fine. It’s fine. I can handle it, I’ve seen a lot worse, you know that,” Pearl half-laughed, a strangled sound that only escaped her at her most stressed. She wasn’t cut out for this, not by herself! “We can fix this. I can fix this. We’ll put you back together once you get more solid. I can’t quite see how things fit yet, not that anything would go back in this state.”

“Pearl, Scar didn’t do this- I did this. It’s my fault.”

“Of course Scar did this,” Pearl fell back on her anger, letting it take the lead, “ What happened? I can find a way- I can do something. I can keep this from happening again.” She tried not to think about how she had made that same vow just weeks prior. Pearl frowned as the memory of Grian’s disfigured body surfaced, her form stirring in turn.

“ I trapped him, Pearl. I forced him to tell me-” Mumbo’s breath hitched, and Pearl was pretty sure his form shifted in turn, but she was starting to find it difficult to see, “I forced him to answer me. To tell me why he murdered us.”

“ What?”

“It was supposed to fix me, Pearl- to cut whatever is keeping me tied here- it- but it’s just worse. I’m never going to get away, Pearl. I’m stuck. I’m going to be stuck forever, dragging the rest of you down.”

“No, no, that can’t be true. It- that’s not good- but there has to be another solution to this. This- this is fine, actually! We can work on this!”

“ Pearl, I can’t move on! He told me exactly what I needed to know, and it did nothing. It was supposed to release me!”

“I know, I understand, but maybe it wasn’t- maybe you just needed something different, something you might not even know yet? Mumbo, it’s not over for you, I promise. You can’t panic. If all else fails, this will end when Scar is dead, and trust me , I’m working on it. We will all be free.”

“But- what if it doesn’t work?”

“Listen, I know my past attempts have gone poorly, but with The Haunted Island, when we go back I’ll-”

“ No Pearl. I mean what if he dies, and we’re still stuck. What if it just doesn't work. I know exactly what I wanted from Scar- he told me everything and nothing changed. I don’t- what if it’s really just hopeless.”

His words stopped Pearl in her tracks, but it was only a moment before she recovered, “That’s impossible. Our ties, all of our ties , are to Scar. We go wherever he goes, and if he’s dead, those ties can’t exist anymore. Plus, it’ll make me feel a hell of a lot better.”

“How do you know that for sure? What if he dies and we’re all stuck at that spot? What if he comes back as a ghost or- something else,” Mumbo stuttered at the last idea, curling into himself, “I don’t know what Cub did, but it’s changing him I think. I don’t know. Maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s fine.”

Pearl opened her mouth to argue, but the words dried on her tongue. Was this about the wings? Hadn’t Scar mentioned them earlier..? Something about his back.. oh. No. No, that was impossible. Killing Scar would fix this, it would solve everything. It- it had to solve everything.

“Pearl, your body- no, I.. I’m sorry, I didn’t-” Mumbo put his hands- arms- over his face, his eyes? Did he still have them? He must, if he could see her. Pearl, on the other hand, was finding it much harder to see. What was happening to her body? The lines of her form were bright and blurry; it hurt to look for too long. And they were.. shifting? Ah.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Mumbo. Let’s just- we can fix this.”

“You keep saying that, but I’m starting to think I’m only making everything worse.”

“No, no, this could be good!” Pearl felt something leave her, something important, but it was quickly replaced by a new excitement, almost manic in nature, “Mumbo, Grian when he- when this happened- he was physical, at least a little, wasn’t he?” Suddenly, it was getting much harder to talk. That was fine. She could be quick.

“Oh god, Pearl, this isn’t- you don’t want to-”

“He didn’t touch Scar, but he still managed to nearly kill him and- well- Grian could still touch ghosts too. If Scar comes back..”

“But ghosts can’t die .”

“I’ll destroy him. There won’t be anything left.”

“But-”

“Mumbo. Please,” Pearl had to strain to make her voice heard now, but that was okay. This had to happen. She wouldn’t hesitate again.

“ Pearl, ” she heard his voice, but was having a difficult time with his form. His silhouette just didn’t look right. Lankier in all the wrong places. Even now, his words were starting to fade into her periphery; she barely even registered the buzzes and clicks. “ I’m scared ,” broke through, heightening her awareness long enough to remember who was still here with her.

No, don’t be scared, you don’t have to be scared anymore. It’s going to be over. I’m going to fix everything.

But the words didn’t leave her. She wasn’t quite sure if she had a mouth to speak. Well this was a problem. She couldn’t lose control before letting the other, Mumbo , know it was alright. She reached forward two, no, four arms to hold him, to make sure he knew. The last thing she remembered thinking was how odd it felt to press against another unstable form. And then she, well, he felt a spike of panic, pain, the unabating dread that something was deeply wrong. But it was okay. It was okay. When Scar was destroyed, this would all end.

#hermitcraft #pirates smp #boatem #boatemghostsau #pearlescentmoon #mumbo jumbo #grian #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #impulsesv

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geminai-rambling-trinkets · 10 months

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MORE NAGA AU!

YO! IT'S ME AGAIN WITH NY RAMBLES!

Anyways! I have been able to think about it more!

Warning! Character Death! Angst!

Summary!

Before I ramble if you don't know about my Naga AU Izuku is basically a bitter person who has issues and after the events of the USJ and Sports Festival transfers to the Hero Course, albeit reluctantly.

Now Onto More Plot Points!

I was thinking about his backstory because I wanted it to affect him and have Izuku hold some hatred and disgust towards his quirk. Not by a lot, he learned to love his quirk overtime but in the beginning? Yeah. He did not love it. Here's what I gathered:

Izuku was eight when he got his quirk. He had four years of quirkless discrimination under his belt already, however, how did Izuku get his quirk? Trauma. A forced activation quirk. Izuku watched his father - yes Hisashi was a good, but still not often present, father - die in front of his face to gain the quirk.

His quirk.

Another plot point is that Izuku is a descendant of All for One and Izuku knows that. He watched as his father, another descendant of All for One, die in front of him because the man, in his last moments of life, told Izuku about his family. Why his "Papa was never often... around," Izuku activates his quirk and bam!

All for One is currently clueless that Izuku is even related to him, he only knows that he's the somehow related to All Might. Or so it seems.

Why is All for One clueless? Izuku never took the Shigaraki name. Hisashi knew he was being chased and when he met and fell in love with Inko, Hisashi practically begged to Inko that Izuku will take her name rather than his.

Inko and Hisashi are said to be married, they had their vows and everything but Hisashi made sure his status was single in fear of All for One, his predecessor, taking away their lives as well.

Once Izuku realized the absolute shit crap his dad's family was, Izuku deceived his own mother, and made her believe and still to this day say that Hisashi is working aboard and sending cards like he used to. If only she knew it was her own son sending those post cards in fear of her sadness.

Izuku carries the guilt and constant fear of not being able to protect his people enough, he already failed the adult naga, to not be enough. His dad died in front of him and no matter how cruel and cold he is to everyone, he's scared of not being able to protect those who are close to him. Those he cares about.

Heavy emotional trauma and healing.

During the training camp arc another plot point appears! I mentioned before about the ocarina Izuku gave to Bakugou! Turns out he also gave one to his mother, whose a nurse, and his mother, Inko, explains about the ocarina and why Izuku became feral.

The ocarina is a wind musical instrument originated from Central America! (At least, that's what Google tells me,) back to the story, Izuku's ocarinas that he gave to his mother and Bakugou are made by his scales. They are designed to only be played by them, if anyone else plays the ocarina, Izuku will assume they are in danger and then turns feral and goes, no matter how far, to protect them with his life.

This is one of those moments where we see Izuku explicitly show worry and care to Bakugou, who for the longest time thought Izuku hated him, and 'Bakugou smirks because a league member played the ocarina that was meant to be his.

The fact that he was kidnapped doesn't help his case. Bakugou just knows that once the Naga comes around, venom will be spreading around his fangs.'

So, yeah, the ocarinas Izuku makes are made by his scales. He will know when it's played and he will know if they are in any danger.

After the training camp, Izuku starts to mellow down a bit, still guarded but a bit nicer that when Izuku and Bakugou have their (other) argument. Izuku admits straight up, to Bakugou of all people, that he cares for their class and that he hates that he will never be enough to protect them. That he will have to see another person who he cares about die in front of him while he's weak and useless.

Izuku has a inferiority complex and it will show.

So far about the snakelets, I've confirmed about only four. A pair of twins, the youngest who admired the adult naga, and the second oldest who's a teenager.

I only managed to get a sort dynamic to the youngest, second oldest, and the adult naga. The youngest naga admired the adult naga and swore to be like him. However, once he died the youngest started to project the adult naga to the second oldest and the second oldest knew. And they didn't have the heart to reject that but they knew what the youngest was doing.

The adult naga came when Izuku was nine and was processing his quirk, he hated it back then, and when Izuku cried out of nowhere the adult naga appeared. The adult naga was like a father figure to Izuku as they grew together and when he died? Yeah, it was like Hisashi all over again but worse, Izuku could've prevented that.

Which is why Izuku doesn't like Aizawa, at first, his 'father' died for this man.

Aizawa is just wondering how he can get Izuku to like him (he has seen how he acts with Mic.)

Edit: WHY DID IT TAKE ME A LONG SECOND AS TO WHY IZUKU LIKES MIC?!

(The names Hizashi and Hisashi are so similar! (In spelling.) Which could be another reason as to why Izuku likes Present Mic!

Aizawa is sobbing okay -

That's all I have for the Naga AU, which isn't a whole lot, but hey having more of a general idea helps!

P.S I have been drawing the Naga AU Izuku and I will post it when I get it done!

Bye-Bye! This almost made half of my soul cry but yeah! Hisashi wasn't a bad father, maybe absent but he had a reason! Anyways - see y'all in the next ramble!

(I just love this bird okay! It's doing its dancy dance!)

#naga au #izuku midoriya #inko midoriya #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha aus #angst #hisashi midoriya #all for one #coko is back from the void #character death #character dynamics #aizawa in this au will sob silently in the corner because he can't get the green bean approval just yet #that yet is a very long time #hizashi yamada

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lil-scout-precure · 2 years

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My thoughts about the JESC 2022 songs. Part 2:

(This will be in order of release of the videos at the official JESC YouTube channel)

🇦🇱 Kejtlin Gjata "Pakëz Diell":

From the dancing rhythm songs we now go to the JESC ballads with this entry of Albania. But don't leave, please, this one hits as hard as possible with its purpose, considering the actual situation we all know about, and the song's tune is something good.

The videoclip really takes the title of the song almost seriously: A bit of Sunshine to illuminate a monocrome world, a ray of hope for those difficult times and for those who feel alone. And Kejtlin's voice is something astonishing to join the ethereal soft melody. I can understand that most of the JESC fandom are not rooting for this one, but at least we can give Albania a chance to shine with this song and place it at Top 10 at least. It's something good, indeed.

🇰🇿 David Charlin "Jer-Ana":

Kazakhstan: The country we can say "Why aren't they competing at the official adults' Eurovision Song Contest?". They share their potential at Junior and THEY HAVE IT: One example, before this entry, is their 2020's entry "Forever" by Karakat Bashanova. If the live version has not been strong enough with the lyrics and emotions, the studio version and context behind the song (Karakat sings this to her dead father) can make it heartbreaking and say "again, how did this not win?". (I can't hear the fricking song in any version once without crying at least a bit. I loved "J' Imagine" and France as a JESC host, but this was a winner too)

Now, to this year's entry. They want to avenge their failed good attempts to win every JESC they competed with a strong ballad and a strong message: a boosted and less groovy version of "Green Forces" with a touch of "Pakëz Diell" with the vibes of "Everything I Need" from Skylar Grey. And they don't dissapoint.

While it's not as heartbreaking as Karakat's song, it is something strong both in melody and message. Most of the videoclip visuals talk for themselves. And again, singing one portion in English and then hit it hard with their native language, something that is becoming less common in both ESC and JESC but reinvindicated slowly recently. One of the songs not into my "greatest" favorites, but if David wins or enters the Top 3, this can be not only surprising, but also give Kazakhstan their boost to enter the adults' ESC and the victory they could have had years ago.

🇷🇸 Katarina Savić "Svet Bez Granica":

Serbia at JESC. If there's something they like to do well, regarding their rhythm and their place at the voting results, is to send their melodies in their native language. And if I expected my thought of "Jovana and Dunja are JESC's Hurricane but only two of them and more into a ballad" to be the only "JESC-ESC" coincidence I imagined, this year's JESC song was something that made me say "This is the Molitva (Serbia's ESC winning song at 2007) of JESC..."

Calm, orchestrally soothing, moving vocals and graceful movements at the videoclip...The song (after researching a bit) talks about the feeling of finding your true love, not letting anything to diminish it, and telling it in a poetic way to everyone. And THE TROMBONE, FROM ALL THE INSTRUMENTS. Katarina plays the trombone in a way that surprisingly complements the song well. While again, not into my "greatest" favorites, this song is soothing for relaxing you and help you rest well. I could give her a chance :D

🇫🇷 Lissandro "Oh Maman!":

Now returning to your scheduled moving songs...

France giving quality JESC songs 4 times in a row? Yes, it's not an illusion. From Carla's "Bim Bam Toi" to Valentina's "J' Imagine", followed by Enzo's "Tic Tac", and now succeded by Lissandro's "Oh Maman!". And each one not dropping the quality of the other, regardless of the rhythm.

This is, in my POV, what happens when one mixes Enzo with "Hamilton" with a portion of "Bohemian Rhapsody" and "I'm Still Standing", and luckily, it resulted fantastic! Look at him, just vibing and imagining himself being a superstar at the stage, living his dreams and telling everyone about them. :3 Not for my "podium" favorites, but let's be honest, with that French tone and happy vibes, he can get easily into the Top 5!

Ps. Stupid Pokemon X/Y-related random thoughts in my mind. I know Lissandro is derived from Lyssandre and so on, but please, this kid is NOTHING like said villain!

🇵🇱 Laura "To The Moon":

After their second place at the podium of last year's JESC, Poland had to put their bar higher or at least the same Sara James left for this year's JESC. And MY GOSH, this electronic space-vibing song got the spot BY FAR!

The setting of the videoclip could not be more futuristic than ever, and reminds me of Malta's entry by far. Laura's imagination and curiosity come true, even for just some minutes, complementing the song's vibes. She is one of the strongest contenders in this edition, competing with the Netherlands, Malta, UK, Spain and so on with such good moving vibes! Not the "greatest" favorite of mine, but hey, maybe Poland could get a second victory or Top 3 in a row? :o

Ps. Finally, an accurate depiction about how some folks like me are like in an interactive museum: a neurodivergent playground to explore and be curious and imagine! ;w;

The third part will come soon!

#esc cause why not #jesc 2022 #nicky's chatter

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duckprintspress · 3 years

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Ten Things We Hate About Trad Pub

Often when I say “I’ve started a small press; we publish the works of those who have trouble breaking into traditional publishing!” what people seem to hear is “me and a bunch of sad saps couldn’t sell our books in the Real World so we’ve made our own place with lower standards.” For those with minimal understanding of traditional publishing (trad pub), this reaction is perhaps understandable? But, truly, there are many things to hate about traditional publishing (and, don’t get me wrong - there are things to love about trad pub, too, but that’s not what this list is about) and it’s entirely reasonable for even highly accomplished authors to have no interest in running the gauntlet of genre restrictions, editorial control, hazing, long waits, and more, that make trad pub at best, um, challenging, and at worst, utterly inaccessible to many authors - even excellent ones.

Written in collaboration with @jhoomwrites, with input from @ramblingandpie, here is a list of ten things that we at Duck Prints Press detest about trad pub, why we hate it, and why/how we think things should be different!

(Needless to say, part of why we created Duck Prints Press was to...not do any of these things... so if you’re a writer looking for a publishing home, and you hate these things, too, and want to write with a Press that doesn’t do them...maybe come say hi?)

1. Work lengths dictated by genre and/or author experience.

Romance novels can’t be longer than 90,000 words or they won’t sell! New authors shouldn’t try to market a novel longer than 100,000 words!

A good story is a good story is a good story. Longer genre works give authors the chance to explore their themes and develop their plots. How often an author has been published shouldn’t put a cap on the length of their work.

2. Editors assert control of story events...except when they don’t.

If you don’t change this plot point, the book won’t market well. Oh, you’re a ten-time bestseller? Write whatever you want, even if it doesn’t make sense we know people will buy it.

Sometimes, a beta or an editor will point out that an aspect of a story doesn’t work - because it’s nonsensical, illogical, Deus ex Machina, etc. - and in those cases it’s of course reasonable for an editor to say, “This doesn’t work and we recommend changing it, for these reasons…” However, when that list of reasons begins and ends with, “...because it won’t sell…” that’s a problem, especially because this is so often applied as a double standard. We’ve all read bestsellers with major plot issues, but those authors get a “bye” because editors don’t want to exert to heavy a hand and risk a proven seller, but with a new, less experienced, or worse-selling author, the gloves come off (even though evidence suggests time and again that publishers’ ability to predict what will sell well is at best low and at worst nonexistent.)

3. A billion rejection letters as a required rite of passage (especially when the letters aren't helpful in pinpointing why a work has been rejected or how the author can improve).

Well, my first book was rejected by a hundred Presses before it was accepted! How many rejection letters did you get before you got a bite? What, only one or two? Oh…

How often one succeeds or fails to get published shouldn’t be treated as a form of hazing, and we all know that how often someone gets rejected or accepted has essentially no bearing on how good a writer they are. Plenty of schlock goes out into the world after being accepted on the first or second try...and so does plenty of good stuff! Likewise, plenty of schlock will get rejected 100 times but due to persistence, luck, circumstances, whatever, finally find a home, and plenty of good stuff will also get rejected 100 times before being publishing. Rejections (or lack there of) as a point of pride or as a means of judging others needs to die as a rite of passage among authors.

4. Query letters, for so many reasons.

Summarize all your hard work in a single page! Tell us who you’re like as an author and what books your story is like, so we can gauge how well it’ll sell based on two sentences about it! Format it exactly the way we say or we won’t even consider you!

For publishers, agents, and editors who have slush piles as tall as Mount Everest...we get it. There has to be a way to differentiate. We don’t blame you. Every creative writing class, NaNoWriMo pep talk, and college lit department combine to send out hundreds of thousands of people who think all they need to do to become the next Ernest Hemingway is string a sentence together. There has to be some way to sort through that pile...but God, can’t there be a better way than query letters? Especially since even with query letters being used it often takes months or years to hear back, and...

5. "Simultaneous submissions prohibited.”

No, we don’t know when we’ll get to your query, but we’ll throw it out instantly if you have the audacity to shop around while you wait for us.

The combination of “no simultaneous submissions” with the query letter bottleneck makes success slow and arduous. It disadvantages everyone who aims to write full-time but doesn’t have another income source (their own, or a parents’, or a spouse’s, or, or or). The result is that entire classes of people are edged out of publishing solely because the process, especially for writers early in their career, moves so glacially that people have to earn a living while they wait, and it’s so hard to, for example, work two jobs and raise a family and also somehow find the time to write. Especially considering that the standard advice for dealing with “no simultaneous submissions” is “just write something else while you wait!” ...the whole system screams privilege.

6. Genres are boxes that must be fit into and adhered to.

Your protagonist is 18? Then obviously your book is Young Adult. It doesn’t matter how smutty your book is, erotica books must have sex within the first three chapters, ideally in the first chapter. Sorry, we’re a fantasy publisher, if you have a technological element you don’t belong here…

While some genre boxes have been becoming more like mesh cages of late, with some flow of content allowed in and out, many remain stiff prisons that constrict the kinds of stories people can tell. Even basic cross-genre works often struggle to find a place, and there’s no reason for it beyond “if we can’t pigeon-hole a story, it’s harder to sell.” This edges out many innovative, creative works. It also disadvantages people who aren’t as familiar with genre rules. And don’t get me wrong - this isn’t an argument that, for example, the romance genre would be improved by opening up to stories that don’t have “happily ever afters.” Instead, it’s pointing out - there should also be a home for, say, a space opera with a side romance, an erotica scene, and a happily-for-now ending. Occasionally, works breakthrough, but for the most part stories that don’t conform never see the light of day (or, they do, but only after Point 2 - trad pub editors insist that the elements most “outside” the box be removed or revised).

7. The lines between romance and erotica are arbitrary, random, and hetero- and cis-normative.

This modern romance novel won’t sell if it doesn’t have an explicit sex scene, but God forbid you call a penis a penis. Oh, no, this is far too explicit, even though the book only has one mlm sex scene, this is erotica.

The difference between “romance” and “erotica” might not matter so much if not for the stigmas attached to erotica and the huge difference in marketability and audience. The difference between “romance” and “erotica” also might not matter so much if not for the fact that, so often, even incredibly raunchy stories that feature cis straight male/cis straight female sex scenes are shelved as romance, but the moment the sex is between people of the same gender, and/or a trans or genderqueer person is involved, and/or the relationship is polyamorous, and/or the characters involved are literally anything other than a cis straight male pleasuring a cis straight female in a “standard” way (cunnilingus welcome, pegging need not apply)...then the story is erotica. Two identical stories will get assigned different genres based on who the people having sex are, and also based on the “skill” of the author to use ludicrous euphemisms (instead of just...calling body parts what they’re called…), and it’s insane. Non-con can be a “romance” novel, even if it’s graphically described. “50 Shades of Gray” can sell millions of copies, even containing BDSM. But the word “vagina” gets used once...bam, erotica. (Seriously, the only standard that should matter is the Envelope Analogy).

8. Authors are expected to do a lot of their own legwork (eg advertising) but then don't reap the benefits.

Okay, so, you’re going to get an advance of $2,500 on this, your first novel, and a royalty rate of 5% if and only if your advance sells out...so you’d better get out there and market! Wait, what do you mean you don’t have a following? Guess you’re never selling out your advance…

Trad pub can generally be relied on to do some marketing - so this item is perhaps better seen as an indictment of more mid-sized Presses - but, basically, if an author has to do the majority of the work themselves, then why aren’t they getting paid more? What’s the actual benefit to going the large press/trad pub route if it’s not going to get the book into more hands? It’s especially strange that this continues to be a major issue when self-publishing (which also requires doing one’s own marketing) garners 60%+ royalty rates. Yes, the author doesn’t get an advance, and they don’t get the cache of ~well I was published by…~, but considering some Presses require parts of advances to get paid back if the initial run doesn’t sell out, and cache doesn’t put food on the table...pay models have really, really got to change.

9. Fanfiction writing doesn't count as writing experience

Hey there Basic White Dude, we see you’ve graduated summa cum laude from A Big Fancy Expensive School. Of course we’ll set you up to publish your first novel you haven’t actually quite finished writing yet. Oh, Fanperson, you’ve written 15 novels for your favorite fandom in the last 4 years? Get to the back of the line!

Do I really need to explain this? The only way to get better at writing is to write. Placing fanfiction on official trad pub “do not interact” lists is idiotic, especially considering many of the other items on this list. (They know how to engage readers! They have existing followings! They understand genre and tropes!) Being a fanfiction writer should absolutely be a marketable “I am a writer” skill. Nuff said. (To be clear, I’m not saying publishers should publish fanfiction, I’m saying that being a fanfiction writer is relevant and important experience that should be given weight when considering an author’s qualifications, similar to, say, publishing in a university’s quarterly.)

10. Tagging conventions (read: lack thereof).

Oh, did I trigger you? Hahahaha. Good luck with that.

We rate movies so that people can avoid content they don’t like. Same with TV shows and video games. Increasingly, those ratings aren’t just “R - adult audiences,” either; they contain information about the nature of the story elements that have led to the rating (“blood and gore,” “alcohol reference,” “cartoon violence,” “drug reference,” “sexual violence,” “use of tobacco,” and many, many more). So why is it that I can read a book and, without warning, be surprised by incest, rape, graphic violence, explicit language, glorification of drug and alcohol use, and so so much more? That it’s left to readers to look up spoilers to ensure that they’re not exposed to content that could be upsetting or inappropriate for their children or, or, or, is insane. So often, too, authors cling to “but we don’t want to give away our story,” as if video game makes and other media makers do want to give away their stories. This shouldn’t be about author egos or ~originality~ (as if that’s even a thing)...it should be about helping readers make informed purchasing decisions. It’s way, way past time that major market books include content warnings.

Thank you for joining us, this has been our extended rant about how frustrated we are with traditional publishing. Helpful? No. Cathartic? Most definitely yes. 🤣

Have a question about writing? Drop us an ask!

Like what we do and want to support us? You can buy us a ko-fi - or get access to exclusive content by backing us on Patreon!

#duck prints press #original content #writing advice #sort of

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ellana-ravenwood · 4 years

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Good Night Rituals - Batfam x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : You have a special little way to tuck your children in, to tell them “Goodnight” and send them off to have sweet dreams, and they absolutely love it. It makes, however, your Bruce a little jealous, at times...

When I was a kid, my mom used to sing to my brother and I a song every night, after our bed time story, and then she’d tell us she loved her, we’d in turn be like “I love you from here to the Moon !” and it’d go for a good half an hour of arguing over who loved the other one most...It inspired this mini-fic. Something very short, again to make you wait for longer more elaborate stuffs. Sorry i’m being slow, a lot of things (good things) is happening and I have very little time. I hope you will like this little thing :) :

My masterlist blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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Dick

Dick is the one that invented this little “night ritual”.

He told you this was the perfect name for it, because it sounded like you were witches up to no good, and he “loved that for you two”.

Of course, it was fairly obvious he’d be the instigator of it all, as he was the oldest child. Your first little kiddo. Oh, but you helped too.

The good ol’ days, during which you had absolutely NO idea how to raise a child. When you and Bruce, frankly, hadn’t been adults for THAT long, considering.

And yet, and you were sure it was entirely thanks to little Dickie, everything came to you naturally. Everything felt right. Even if sometimes, you were a little clumsy.

Both you and Bruce tried so hard though. To make Dick feel home. And like you were his parents. You never tried to replace his mom and dad. But in Dick’s own words, you just slowly became his chance at having parents again.

Becoming Dick’s mom, and Dick’s dad, didn’t mean he forgot the ones he lost. It just meant he loved you as much as he loved them. And though the loss would forever hurt, he did know both John and Mary Grayson would’ve want him to be happy.

And at Wayne Manor ? With you and Bruce ? He became happy. There was a few rough and dark first days, but things slowly build up.

You became a family. You were his parents, now. And he knew, that his mom and dad wouldn’t be mad at him if he “moved on”, and allowed himself to love again.

Bruce often said that he adopted Dick because he didn’t want the boy to become him. And in that simple fact, in that simple way little Dick Grayson understood he still had a chance at being happy, at having a family...He was already extremely different from his “new” dad.

At least, from when he was at his age.

Mission accomplished.

In any case, this parent thing that was thrown your way, became one of the most important thing you’ve ever done in your life.

And again, although there were some clumsy moments, and not everything was always great (Dick had some mighty fit of rage at times, Bruce could be a jerk, and hell sometimes you needed to get away from them as well because you could be such a dick...Everyone has their moments where they’re not on their best behavior, it’s called life), you were a mom, now.

And being a mom, in your mind, meant tucking your kid in when it was time for bedtime.

Only, it was easier said than done.

Dick was a difficult child to put in bed. He’d always find ways to not sleep, and make you stay longer with him. Eventually, you made a “deal”.

And that’s how the “night ritual” was born.

You see, before this little ritual. This “deal” as you called it at first, before Dick found the name. It took you hours, to put him to bed.

Bruce was often out in the city early (although he always made sure to be here for a good night kiss and a “love you, champ. See you tomorrow, sleep well”) and Alfred would monitor the computer, at those times.

Later, when Dick grew up, you’d often be behind that monitor. But if a kid had to be put to bed ? You gladly took it upon yourself to do it.

For you, especially in those early motherhood days, it was important to be there for your child. For him to feel like he wasn’t an afterthought, and that “the butler” (although everyone knew Alfred was more than that) wasn’t here to take him off of your hands.

So bedtime, was your task. The task you gave yourself.

And oh boy, with Dick ? It quickly turned into a hassle.

“I’m thirsty...Wait, I’m afraid to stay alone in the room, piggyback ride to the kitchen ?”

“I can’t sleep, it’s a full Moon.”

“Hey, I didn’t clean up my room today ! We can’t leave all my toys laying around like that, can we ?”

It was always “one last story” or “I have to pee” or “I forgot to brush my teeth !”.

And at the time, you just didn’t have the heart to scold him and tell him it was enough, that it was time for bed. Oh well, who were you kidding. Even now, you didn’t scold your kids if they took their sweet time to get to bed.

You just didn’t quite understood the point in getting mad at them just because they didn’t go to bed right away. Dick eventually fell asleep, and not even that late. And if he was stalling for too long, he would only get mad at himself the next day because he’d be exhausted, and then that night he’d go to bed earlier.

So no. You didn’t get mad. It sounded ridiculous, to yell at kids for this. However, you were a mom now. And you knew your kid couldn’t just do whatever he wanted, even if he was as sweet as Dick.

Dick was nice almost all the time. He listened, did his chores, worked in school...So what if you gave him a little freedom sometimes ?

Yes. Sometimes. It was fine sometimes.

But not all the time, like it had become. And not for bedtime. Seeing your son, in the morning, with big bags under his eyes, made you think of your husband, and oh you didn’t want this little 8 years old to be as tired as your Broosh could be.

Of course, Dick was in bed WAY BEFORE Bruce came to bed. But for a small child like him, falling asleep at 10 or 11 pm was already too late.

And so, one day you had enough. And you decided to make a deal with him. There had to be things required for him to go to bed (like a story, for example), but when you said : “it’s time for bed now”, he HAD to listen. The threat was that you’d just kiss him goodnight and leave.

At first, Dick didn’t believe you. You couldn’t possibly have the heart to not tell him a story, and leave him alone so soon ! But you had to give him a lesson.

And so, came the first unpleasant act you did as a parent. Because being nice and lenient was one thing, but you still were his mom. Not his friend. And there had to be certain rules, especially for such a young child.

Rules, that he had to understand, or it was meaningless. Now, of course, you weren’t as harsh as your husband (you’d get mad at him enough, when he trained Dick and was a little too much). But still. You couldn’t let him decide of everything. You really REALLY didn’t want him to become a brat who thought he could just have anything whenever he wanted.

Dick was a great kid, your worst fear at the time was that he’d turn into a phony who thought of himself as superior just because he was from a famous and rich family, and allowed to do whatever he wanted.

And so, the “night ritual” began. On a common accord (because Dick was such a good kid, but also because that time you just kissed him, tucked him in and left really left a mark on him and he hated that so much !).

You realized the reason he couldn’t get to sleep right away was because he was always wayyyy too excited, but also...because he didn’t want you to leave so soon.

He dreaded the moment you’d leave, and he would be alone in his room.

So you put in place a system, that would gradually make him sleepy. And...

It worked.

First, you’d get dessert in bed. Usually fresh milk and a cookie. Something light, just to put him a little bit to sleep (Dick always got sleeping after he ate something, for some reasons). And you’d talk about your day, about how you felt. You’d lay it all out, so that your boy wouldn’t get to bed with any negative feelings. Talking, always helped.

Then you’d read him a bedtime story. Better yet, you’d invent a bedtime story just for him (this is how your most famous book saga, “Richard and the Space pirates” came to be). If you felt benevolent that night, you’d even tell him two stories.

One would usually do the trick, however.

Then you’d sing him a few lullabies, to lull him softly to sleep.

And as he’d fall asleep, you’d whisper :

“I love you so much.”

And he’d answer, outraged but too weak to really argue. A few last words before falling into a deep slumber :

“I love you more !”

And bam. He’d be passed out. Your soft voice in his ears, as you told him a story, sang to him, and told him he was loved...It was what he needed.

He was a rather young child too, who had a busy life. School, training, homework...So of course, with a little coaxing, he’d fall asleep fast.

But he had to know you were there. Had to know he had those moments with you, and wouldn’t be alone before he fell asleep.

See, you understood that all his stalling before the “night ritual” was put in place, was because he was trying to tire himself out before you left. He was trying to keep you there as long as possible, just so he would fall asleep fast once you were gone.

“I love you most.”

You’d tell him, as he was already sleeping sweetly, clinging to his comforter as you slowly caressed his hair, laid a last kiss on his forehead, and left the room. Making sure before, that his little light was on, in case he woke up at night.

Dick hated the dark.

“I love you.”

“I love you more !”

“I love you most.”

Night ritual.

Existing because your oldest kiddo, Dick, needed some “guidance” to fall asleep. But most importantly, because he needed to know you’d be there too, until he fell into his dreams.

You’d indulge him. Meeting him half-way between “doing everything he wants you to do” and “being way too strict”. There were rules, to bedtime.

A “night ritual”.

But the rules were lax. Could be bend. And existed only so he would be able to sleep relatively early.

For years and years, you’d do that little nightly ritual with him. It stopped when he was around 14, even if he still had a kiss goodnight and got tucked in. Things really stopped overall when he left for the Titans, shortly after turning 16, after that awful fight with his father.

Oh and to be honest, something he’d never tell anyone...Even now, as a grown ass adult, he’d sometimes call you at night just so you could sing him a song, as your voice was still the thing that’d put him peacefully at sleep even to this day. But the real “night ritual” stopped. Your little boy grew up.

Which made you so sad...But then Jason came in. And soothed the pain.

Jason

Jason ressembled Dick in that he really wanted you to stay for the longest possible. But, unlike Dick who wasn’t afraid to speak his mind and who could be a bit of a brat sometimes, Jason wouldn’t say anything.

Dick definitely used his little charms and smiles to make you and Bruce crack, and give in...the little bugger even taught his younger siblings everything about how to manipulate you two into saying “yes”, to your greatest dismay...

Oh but, was one more scoop of ice cream really that bad ? After all, your children were nice most of the time, it was fine to be a little lenient sometimes, and though Bruce loved to think of himself as a strict parent, nobody was fooled, you were both pretty cool and lax...Which didn’t mean your children were misbehaving brats, although they had their moments, like everyone.

Anyway, Dick used to make it clear he was demanding for you to stay longer with him when bedtime was coming.

But Jason was a little shyer. He spend his entire life until then thinking he was bothering the people around him, that he was a burden, so he really didn’t want his new family to think that of him.

But you could see it in his eyes. You could. When he wanted for you to tell one more story, or to sing him one more lullaby. And although you were constantly teased by your husband about how easy those kids played you (as if he was one to talk)...you couldn’t resist.

You were always left rather sad and depressed, if you put one of your kids to bed and they looked visibly upset. So you’d stay longer. Anything for them to go to bed feeling good.

About life. About themselves. About everything, really.

A child shouldn’t have his sleep burdened by any worries.

Of course you knew you couldn’t be forever there for them, they’d eventually grow up and you wouldn’t really need to “tuck them in” anymore (at the time, you had no idea that even well in their twenties, if they came to sleep at the Manor, even as they already moved out, they’d ask you for a good night kiss...The magic of being consistent in your love for them, really).

You knew that eventually, they’d grow up too much and wouldn’t need you as much. That it’d be harder, too, to cheer your little ones up. Growing up unfortunately meant your worries grew with you too, and were harder and harder to forget. Or to be distracted from.

You knew one day would come, in which little Jason would not be soothed anymore, by you telling him a bed time story.

So maybe, you cracked a little too often, especially with him.

You knew Dick had a good childhood, before you adopted him. But Jason ? He was bruised and abused, and thrown away like a dirty socks too often. Nobody ever wanted him, anywhere he went.

Which was why, he didn’t dare to ask for a second story when you finished the first one.

See, Dick would just jump up in his bed, do a backflip and dramatically say : “Pleaaaase fair lady, another story for the poor squire boy !”. Which would make you smile, and tell him one more.

But Jason ? He didn’t say anything. And held all his feelings of sadness and disappointment inside.

He wanted, more often than not, a second story so bad. But he didn’t want to bother you. He didn’t want you to realize he was actually a burden, and to throw him away, just like everyone else did.

Jason always got to have a second story. Of course, any of your kids would if they asked. But Jason never dared to ask. So you’d just give it to him naturally.

He always started to fall asleep half-way through the second story, which you’d keep on hold to then sing to him.

Your songs would make him slowly drift to sleep, a genuine smile on his face.

Oh. Jason. Always such a sweet boy, afraid to bother others, yet as contradictory as it sounded boisterous and full of life.

Your little Jason. When Dick left for the Titans, you hadn’t realized how much you missed having a little one home. And then.

Then there was Jason.

When he died, you thought your “motherhood” died with him. Dick was over eighteen by then, and even if Jason’s death made him come back to the Manor, there was no “night ritual” anymore. You didn’t have the heart for it anyway...

You still had Dick, but losing your young son like that, knowing how he died, made you feel like you would never recover. You were in such a bad shape, that you couldn’t even help Bruce when he also fell into a dark well. When he turned back to being overly violent as Batman, practices he stopped when Dick left and opened his eyes. When Dick questioned him.

You still had Dick, but it felt like part of what you were as a mother, died with Jason. How could you do a “night ritual” properly now, with the memories of your son’s sweet smile, him telling you this was his favorite part of his day ? With the memories of...

You moved from the East wing to the West wing, after Jason’s death. None of you could walk past his empty room anymore.

Dick came back. And it was his turn, to help you fall asleep. More than one night, he spend trying to comfort you as you couldn’t stop the tears from running down. He never left you alone.

Bruce couldn’t handle any of it, and he buried himself under his work as Batman. It would take him some time, before he realized that you had to be there for each others...

When Jason died, it felt like it was the end of everything nice about motherhood. Every night, you fell asleep with your head in your oldest son’s laps, seeing in his eyes the grief and pain of it all.

And you felt guilty. More depressed and sadder. You always hated seeing your children off to bed looking upset...

But it was hard to resist. Everything felt so far away. And Bruce wasn’t there. This was one of the darker moment, in your family life...

Dick felt helpless. He hadn’t been able to save his little brother. Now he couldn’t even help his parents. It felt like the entire family was breaking...

And then. Then Tim came in.

Tim

Tim’s parents never tucked him in, too busy with their high society lives.

So when he started to live with you and Bruce, after he lost both of them, he didn’t really expect you to...

“Do you want a bedtime story, maybe ?”

You asked him on his first night being officially adopted.

Oh but this was rather long after you started to see him as your own son. Tim already stayed over the Manor many times (without his parents ever even calling to know where he was). And he’d been Robin for a few months, before his parents passed away and he was officially adopted into the Wayne family (A/N : no need to tell me that canonically, Tim got adopted quite a long time after his parents died and he was “just” a ward like Dick was, for a while ;). No need either to tell me he was “older” than the age I give him there, which is around 10/11...Firstly because it varies according to canons, like sometimes he’s young, sometimes he’s fifteen, but also because this is a fanfic and my canon ages for the boys are taken from the canon I prefer XD which are not the ones in which he had a certain “Happy 15th birthday” pizza. Anyway what I mean is, that I’m not entirely accurate here for sure, but eh, it’s a FANfic, let’s allow ourself a little freedom...there’s no official canon on his age or how old he was when adopted anyway, it varies wildly from era to era hehe).

Both you and Bruce kept your distance from him, at first. In more way than others, he painfully reminded you of the son you lost. And it felt wrong, to replace him so...

Replace him ?

Slowly, both of you were reminded of that conversation you had with Dick, once. When he was little, and asking if his parents would be mad if he called you and Bruce “mom and dad”.

That conversation, during which all of you talked about how you didn’t replace John and Mary, you just became another family for him. His new parents.

Didn’t mean he would ever forget about the ones who were ripped away from him. Just that he...

He allowed himself to love again.

And you did, too, when you finally accepted Tim in your life.

That boy had a way, anyway, to crawl inside your heart and settle comfortable there...He was just such a bright one, in more than one way. Sure, he was extremely intelligent, but he also just...Shone. A new sun in your life.

Not one that would replace any other Sun. Just. A new one. That you were allowed to love, too.

“Do you want a bedtime story, maybe ?”

Now, he was officially your son. And this was the first night he’d spend in the Manor being yours. Before, you never dared to tuck him in, by fear of getting too attached just for him to be ripped away from you...And he almost did.

His father, almost took him away, before his ultimate demise... But that was another story.

Tonight, was the first night as your son. And he was still so small, just ten little years. The age Jason was too, when the official adoption papers were signed...

You chased away the painful memories, as little Timmy looked at you, surprised. But you could see a hint of interest in his eyes.

“A bedtime story ?”

“Yes, if you want to of course. You don’t have to-”

“I’d love a bedtime story !”

He was in such a hurry to tell you this, that it made you smile. And you could feel it in your bones. That boy never had anyone asking him if he wanted to be told a story, before sleep.

It was obvious in his excitement, and it was obvious in his hopeful eyes. Eyes that were asking : “...Do I really mean something to you ? Enough that you’d spend time reading to me ?”.

It broke your heart. Poor little one. Even though he had parents, and came from a rich family, he was never truly cared for. It was obvious in everything he did.

Often, he’d try to do stuffs on his own, and would be surprised if you, Alfred or Bruce would ask if he needed help...

Ah. Well tonight. Tonight called for one of your made up stories for sure. A mere random storybook wouldn’t do. No. You had to tailor one for him. Just for him. So he would finally know how special he is.

“Ok, well then.”

You settled next to him in his bed, as he sat up, the excitement pouring out of his very being. Alfred chose that time, to drop some milk and cookies, as he informed you he would be down in the Batcave to help Bruce.

Impeccable timing. As usual.

You thanked him, and started your story, as Tim looked at you with wide eyes, eating his cookie absentmindedly, quickly realizing you were telling a story about him ! :

“Once upon a time, there was a little boy. His name was Timothy, and he didn’t know it yet but one day...He’d save the entire Kingdom of Waynalia. How, you might ask ? Well it was simple. You see, young Timothy had a talent to cure people’s heart. And the King and Queen of Waynalia, who were known to be cruel and vile, only were so because they’ve had broken hearts for far too long...”

Tim fell asleep at the end of the story. And just like his brothers, quickly took to this “night ritual”. After all, he was still just a child. And this entire “milk/cookie/ story/lullabies/kiss goodnight” was great.

Cassandra

Cassandra was fifteen, when she started to live with you at Wayne Manor. Too old, you thought, for the “night ritual”

Dick himself stopped demanding it around aged fourteen (after a certain Wally West mocked him when he heard of it), and even that was rather old when you thought of it. One of the main reason he slowly detached himself from it (apart from being mocked), was being Robin full time now, and going most nights out, so he didn’t really have the energy anymore for the ritual. It wasn’t needed. Which sort of broke your heart.

Jason died before he ever got the “chance” to ask you to stop....

But this was not something you wanted to think about. Oh no.

In any case, Cass was fifteen, and you thought, too old to want some bedtime stories by her mom, or any sort of snuggles.

That was until...

A nightmare.

You heard her, it felt even in your sleep. Something woke you, and then she started to scream. Bruce wasn’t home yet, and it was her night off (you forced all of them to have one, at least once a week).

That night, you had marathoned your favorite TV show with her, and went to bed your separate ways. You did kiss her goodnight, and told her you loved her (you always told them at least once a day, because you learned that in your line of work...you never knew what could happen...Jason’s smiling cheeky face came to your mind, did you tell him often enough that he-no. Not tonight.).

And then, late, it was pitch black out, you heard her scream.

Your mother instinct made you run to her. Quickly, you understood she had yet another bad dream about her father coming to get her, and forcing her to be a weapon again. It happened so often...

You shook her up, and she almost knocked you down as she was slowly regaining consciousness and wondering what the hell was happening and where she was. You know, those few seconds before you’re fully awake, when you’re not even sure you’re even someone anymore ? The time you need to remember oh right, I’m human, and I was in my bed. This is my bedroom. Right.

To sooth her, you started to slowly sing to her. To hold her while you rocked gently back and forth, and sung.

She didn’t talk, as you dried her tears. As you reminded that this was all fine, she was home, and David Cain would never hurt her again.

Cass calmed down, and fell back asleep. You held her most of the night, waiting for Bruce to come back. You just didn’t feel like going back alone in your bed, after such screams

The next night off she had, when it was time to part at the top of the stairs after yet another TV show marathon, when you’d go to your room and her to hers...

She stopped. And held onto your sleeve.

“Cass, honey, what is it ?”

There was a few seconds of silence, before she said :

“Do it again ?”

And you understood instantly.

See, the other nights, the ones she didn’t have off, Cass would come home exhausted after a night of vigilanting. But when she had her night off, when she wasn’t “working”...Sleep was hard to come.

You knew all too well what she felt. Your Broosh was the same, and already poured his feelings to you about it more than once.

Now, Cassandra wasn’t much of a talker (your husband either, really, but then it was different with you)but you could see it in her eyes.

“Sing ?”

She nodded. And so you went to tuck her in.

You thought she was “too old”. You thought she wouldn’t like it. You thought, as she was slowly discovering her own independence after being treated as a weapon and not choosing anything in her life, that she’d want to be alone in moments like this.

And oh. Oh you thought wrong.

That night, you sang to her until she fell asleep. And slowly but surely, the “night ritual” put himself into place.

Over the years, it didn’t change much. Because it was such a successful formula. Milk and cookies was talking about their day, getting their feelings out. A story by you. A soothing lullabies. Snuggles and kisses.

Winning formula.

Why change it ? Your children were all wildly different, but the one thing that linked them all, was how much they loved you and your antics.

Each of them had “mom time”, where they’d spend the day just with you (just like your Broosh and you had date nights and such). You always took time to spend individual time with all of them, and during those times the activities would be very different from one kid to another.

But those “night rituals” ? They didn’t need to change. Because they were perfect the way they were. Exactly what they all needed. Pure love, in many ways. And the knowledge they’d never be alone again.

Love and loneliness.

Two things your youngest son, Damian, struggled with for years.

Damian

“I love you, little one.”

The first time, Damian didn’t respond. He just nodded, and turned around in his bed, back facing you.

He couldn’t face you, or you’d see the “stupid” smile plastering his face at the mere thought he was loved, and had a real mom...But that, you didn’t know.

You didn’t really take it personally, you happened to know another “emotionally stunted” Wayne, so you were used to it. It took a while, for Bruce to finally admit his feelings for you. Even if they were obvious, and written all over his face (which is why Damian used the “back facing you” trick).

You knew it’d take time. So for now, you’d settle with a simple kiss, and reminding him he was cherished.

And then one day...

“Why do you not read me bed time stories ? Or make one up, with me as the hero ?”

“Beg you pardon ?”

You were diligently tucking him in, as he never told you off when you did it, when he asked this, taking you by surprise. What he said didn’t quite register, until he added :

“Grayson says that when he was little, you’d tell him a story. Made him the hero of it. And then you’d sing. He said there were cookies, too. Why do you not do that with me ?”

Oh. Oh. Oooooooooh.

You got it now. But you’re no less surprised.

“I thought...You had no interest in those ?”

Damian nodded slowly, and said :

“I know why you would think this...Mom.”

Mom. That...He hadn’t call you that very often, so far...

“But when you come to tuck me in, I never have nightmares. I sleep soundly, and I dream of-Soft things. Like unicorns and cats.”

This makes you smile. Oh. Oh if only people could see the Damian right in front of you, and not the Damian he liked to pretend he was.

Sweet, sweet boy.

“I know why you think I don’t want a story, and snuggles, and all the thing Grayson gushed about for hours. But I...Do. I like when you come to tell me goodnight, and I wouldn’t mind if it lasted longer ?”

He was so unsure. Very unlike his cocky usual self.

This, was the real Damian.

The one who really wants to connect with others, who wants to be good, but he’s just not really sure on how to proceed. So he pretends he doesn’t care.

But he does. He cares a lot.

He’s very much like your Broosh, in that regard. Like father like son, eh ? Both of them love to hide emotions from their faces, and pretend everything is ok, even when they’re breaking inside.

Silly boys.

You managed to reach Bruce. You were sure you could reach your son...

And it had already started. You could see it. You smile, and leave his room to get cookies and milk.

And oh damn it, you should’ve told him you were doing that ! Because when you came back, he was laying in his bed and looked absolutely crestfallen ! There was even small tears in his eyes, oh no !

You quickly understood that he thought you were refusing to do the famous “night ritual” with him. That you just went to bed too, and weren’t going to tell him a story.

His face brightens, truly brightens, reminding you of when the sun just comes out from behind high mountains. He sees the cookies and milk, and oh. Oh he looks so excited.

You dried his tears with the back of your hand, and smiled fondly at him.

It makes everything worth it. All your effort to connect with him, worth the work and heartache it brought.

You knew. You knew you’d eventually make it. And it’s that evening, when he asked for “the night ritual”, that you truly realized it.

First, cookies and milk, and a little talk about his day. His feelings, too.

Then the story, one you made up with him as the hero. He seemed to love that, especially to be a good hero, and not a villain. Cute, and heartbreaking at the same time.

Then come the lullabies.

And finally, the soft drift to sleep, and a last feel of warmth as you kiss his forehead and leave him to a deep slumber.

Damian has never felt so peaceful in his life before.

Duke

You didn’t really dare, at first, going to tell him good night.

Unlike your other children, Duke arrived in the family being a sixteen years old boy. Way pass needing someone to tuck him in. And you didn’t want to overstep your bound, you already knew how difficult things were for him. How hard it was to adapt to it all.

It was quite the same than with Cass. But even more complicated.

Cass’ childhood was inexistent, really. Destroyed before she could enjoy it. So sometimes, when with you or Bruce, she’d let go, and act like a child, even though she was older. It was fine. She never had a childhood, she could make up for it now. And so what if she liked hot cocoas and cuddles ? Nobody would hold it against her.

In fact, most adults would probably LOVE to be taken care of by their mom again.

But Duke, was different. He had a happy childhood, parents who were loving and caring...His mom most likely told him stories, and sung him lullabies.

And he was sixteen. And in the middle of an identity crisis, as his powers just barely manifested.

So you didn’t go to tuck him in. Even if you really wanted to.

You wanted to give Cass freedom, let her explore herself, as she always lived following someone else’s orders and view of life.

But Duke ? Duke was an entirely different case from Cass. And you could see him, at times, feeling lost and sad.

You always hated having your kids go to bed upset. But what could you do ?

He was certainly not gonna let you...Or, was he ?

After all, you never asked.

“Do you...Want a bedtime story ?”

He stares at you, visibly confused and thinking you’re a little crazy. And you realize yes, this question is ridiculous. The boy was sixteen !

“Nevermind, sorry that was stupid. I was just thinking...Well I don’t know what I was thinking. Sorry. Night buddy.”

“Wait !”

Uh ? There was a sort of little panic, in his voice. As if he was afraid you were leaving so soon. You turned around, and waited for him to speak again.

“Maybe not a...bedtime story but...Maybe, maybe we could talk ? For a little bit ? My...My mom and I used to talk every night, it helped me sleep.”

You felt a lot of things at the same time.

Touched he wanted to do with you what he used to do with his mom.

Reassured to realize your guts were right, and that his mom did tuck him in sweetly every night.

And sad that it took him so long to ask you for this.

“Of course Duke, of course.”

Duke, was older than any of your other children, when he came into your life. But it didn’t mean...

It didn’t mean he didn’t need you. Or your motherly side.

He never quite had the full “night ritual” experience, as some aspect of it were definitely too childish. But he had the cookies and milk. And the talk. And the feel that you would always be there for him.

Always.

************

The end ?

No.

Bruce

Bruce tossed and tossed in his bed, sleep evading him.

There used to be a time, every nights were like that. Unable to fall asleep, and when he did, his slumber was plagued with the most terrible nightmares.

Maybe that’s why, more than anything else, he decided to use his nights to be a vigilante ? Of course, the cover of nights helped in many ways, doing his Batman work in broad daylight would be more difficult (even if he did do some work during the day). Especially in regards of his “Brucie Wayne” persona, his cover up, pretending he definitely can’t be Batman.

Ever since his parents died, Bruce had trouble falling asleep. That’s probably why it was so easy for him to train himself to sleep barely a few hours a night, and stay in shape even as he often ran on very little resting time.

He lived like that for so many years...

And then. Then you appeared in his life.

And every nights in your arms were peaceful, he was taken by a deep sleep that could happen only with you. He slept so soundly, when you were there, that often when you had to wake up before him, you had to call Alfred so he’d help you untangle yourself from his grasp (I wrote a story about that haha : How to remove a Wayne safely).

You forced him to take at least one night off, and he was so sure he wouldn’t be able to rest on those nights...yet he always fell asleep like a baby, around 11 pm max, often falling asleep in front of whatever movie you were watching, just the two of you.

You had that power. To allow him to sleep well, and not have such awful nightmares.

So when you weren’t with him, he couldn’t find sleep.

He would toss, again and again, and whenever he’d almost fall asleep, his hand would unconsciously look for you in bed and the fact you were absent would make him be wide awake again.

Yes. He just couldn’t sleep, when you weren’t there.

Which is why...Which is why he was a little grumpy, when you would take a long time telling your children good night. It was a sort of jealousy he wasn’t very proud of.

Fighting other men to get your attention ? Any day. Fighting his own children...Felt a little shameful. Not like he could control this feelings, there was time, he was a little selfish. And you two had such few times to yourself, with the life you lead, that any opportunity was taken gladly.

He’d always try to be there for the story time, and for a kiss and some “Love you, kiddo” before leaving either for the cave, or to take an early night in.

Early night ins. Rare occasion.

Like tonight. His one night off this week.

He trusted his cousin, Batwoman, to take care of the city, and his oldest sons, Dick and Jason, who were now old enough to go out there on their own, too...Well, he did still hid trackers in them, and made sure to ask Kate to keep an eye on them, but they were adults.

Capable of taking care of themselves, and go out there to keep Gotham safe, and take care of their younger siblings.

They were still absolutely forbidden to go out there alone. And no one wanted to argue much with your husband about safety, he had already made punchlines for those occurrences and it was impossible to win against him.

Cass, Tim, Damian and Duke weren’t allowed yet to fly solo like their older brothers. They were only allowed to go out there while Bruce wasn’t IF they were with Kate, Dick, or Jason.

Bruce particularly liked when they were with Jason because although many would think he was the most reckless one, because of his “bad boy” reputation but...When it came to his siblings’ safety, he did NOT joke around.

Dick encouraged them to become their own person, and to take initiative (he trusted them to know what they could and could not do, and he was right). But Jason ? Jason took after you, and your “mama hen” personality, for sure.

Actually, Bruce often sneakily stuck one of his younger kid with Jason, so his reckless son would be more careful. Neither you nor your husband wanted to ever lose him again...So what if you had to resort to dirty tactics and ask him to look after a younger siblings for him to be less incautious ?

In any case, it had been a long time deal by then, that Bruce HAD to take at least one night off. All of them had; They each had one night a week. Conveniently, there were seven of them.

On those nights, you and Bruce would be together every single second of it, relishing in a little alone time, and in spending an entire night together for once, and not just a few hours there and there.

But tonight, Damian was sick, and couldn’t go out either. Which was why you weren’t in bed with Bruce, right now. You were tucking your sick son in, and it already took quite a while on normal days but as he was feeling under the weather ??

Bruce knew you. He knew you would stay with him until he fell asleep. And he knew his son, too. He knew he would try to stay awake as long as possible just to be with you.

Which meant...Your husband being alone, right now, and unable to sleep. Ugh. He should’ve just gone out as Batman tonight, and take a break another day. ...As if you or Alfred would’ve let him. You knew that “taking a break another day”, with him, meant never.

Bruce tossed a few more times, and resolved that he couldn’t sleep up until you’d come. So he sat up, and thought he might as well take a walk around the Manor. It always calmed him down, as a child...

That’s when you decided to come in.

“Going somewhere ?”

You ask him, suspicious. He knows you think he was about to leave for the Batcave. And he doesn’t correct you. It’s better you think that, you already knew way too much how to push all his buttons down, he’d rather you not know that he was in fact about to just walk around the Manor and not go to the bat cave because he promise you to take the night off...

Oh. Oh if Superman could hear his thoughts right now. He would surely not recognize his “workaholic” friend...And definitely not recognize his will to not piss off his wife, and listen to her. The Batman didn’t care, if he pissed people off ! Well. Except for his wife, who could be very scary, when angry.

Damn it.

Your face.

Your face shows much concern, behind that slight bit of anger at the thought he was about to sneak to the Batcave, that he can’t hold it back for too long.

To hell, if you were the only one who knew him perfectly, and had him wrapped around your little finger. You gave it back to him plenty. So, just as soon as he was telling himself he wouldn’t tell you the truth...He told you the truth :

“No. I was-...I was just about to take a walk around the Manor.”

You look at him, a question in your eyes. And you don’t have to ask him, as he answers :

“I can’t sleep when you’re not there. Needed to clear my mind.”

It makes you smile, of course. And it’s the truth, oh it’s the truth.

He really can’t fall asleep, when you’re not near.

You climb on the bed, and slowly move to him.

“How’s Damian ?”

“Asleep. His fever went down, finally. Thanks the gods.”

“Was he trying to fight sleep, and argue to have another story ?”

“Oh you know he did.”

“Haha, I don’t blame him. Anything, to keep you closer for longer.”

“What a sappy man you turned out to be, my heart. Who would’ve thunk, right ?”

“Don’t tell Clark.”

This makes you laugh, and you move even closer to him, settling in his laps, facing him. His hands find themselves around your waist naturally, and as you lay your own hands on his cheeks, looking at him fondly and longingly, you say :

“I love you, my Broosh.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you most.”

“I love you so much I think I’d die if you were gone.”

“I love you so much I put up with your bullshit.”

“Hahaha. Cheeky. I love you so much I eat your awful gluten free cake without batting an eye.”

“You ass ! Well, I love you so much I don’t even mention it when you call this disgusting mixture you make in the morning “coffee” “

“Oh wow, ouch. I love you so much I don’t even care about you criticize me.”

You chuckle a little, and kiss his nose, before adding :

“I love you so much, that I wouldn’t change anything in my life. Not even the heartaches...Because everything lead me to you. And a life without you, is no life at all.”

Admittedly, you cheated a bit, using his “I love you so much without you I’d die” against him, twisting things a little to pack a little more punch. And...

There’s a short pause, he looks at you, and then he leans over, slowly and softly pecking your lips. You think this means you won tonight, and you will be back in his arms in no time, allowing him to sleep properly...But you’re wrong.

He says, after burying his face in the crook of your neck, in barely a whisper, his breath tickling you softly :

“I love you so much, I would quit being Batman if you asked me to.”

“Wait, what ?”

You never asked him to. You never did, and never will. Because you were on of the only person on this Earth that truly understood him, and that loved him unconditionally.

You knew and understood why he dressed like a bat each (or almost each) nights, to go fight crimes in Gotham City.

You knew and understood all of his motives.

And for this reason, you’d never ask him to stop doing so. But him admitting he would stop if you did ask, it made you feel...So much.

It touched you beyond all measure. You didn’t even know how to respond to it.

“Ah, I win, didn’t I ?”

You had no words to answer. You knew how much you loved him, how much he meant to you, and how impossible it was to even envision a life without him. But he always managed to surprise YOU with how deeply in love he was with you. How much he’d give up, just for you. How you knew, he would burn the entire world, if it meant saving you...

He would for his children, too. There was no doubt in his mind that if he had been to that warehouse sooner, and killing the Joker meant saving Jason...he would’ve done it. There was no point doing in afterward, once his son was already gone...But there, in the moment, to save him ?

He would. He would kill everyone, just to save his family.

This was a side not a lot of people knew. They all assumed he wouldn’t do it, that he would let you or his children die for the greater good. That’s why considering, you guys weren’t kidnapped that much.

Every villain, everyone, always thought that the Batman would not budge from his principles even if it meant saving those he loved.

And they were wrong. They were so wrong.

It was good, though, that only you knew that.

“Ah. I win, didn’t I ?”

You don’t have the words to answer him, your heart overflowing with so much. Overwhelming. So you go to the next best thing.

Actions.

You kiss him. With all the passion and love you can gather in your being.

You kiss him, and he kisses you back.

That.

That was his night ritual.

The only way he could fall asleep peacefully, like he used to when his mom and dad tucked him in. Before their death.

Finding purchase once more, in your arms, after years of night plagued with nightmares and pain.

Being near you. With you. In every way possible. Touching you, feeling you near. Right there. By him.

The big bad bat’s “night ritual”, it was you.

It was, and would always be you.

The end (for good, this time, haha).

_________________________________________________

As you might’ve noticed, I’m in a very soft mood lately haha. I guess I’m just happy about my current situation, so I wanna write all the fluff and make the Batfam happy...Not for long though. I have some mighty angst in store for you, just you wait ;). In any case, here’s to a small bonus story. Hope you liked it even if it’s not what I said I’d post ^^'. I assure you what I planned is coming, I’m just being damn slow. As usual any comments and reblogs are more than welcomed <3.

PS : Last time I posted a bonus story, an anon wasn’t happy I wasn’t posting longer stories I said I would post soon haha...So just a quick thing : those stories I’ve been posting lately literally take between 20 minutes to an hour to write. It’s extra fast, and I don’t re-read myself. So I can post them rather rapidly. But those I have in store that are long as hell and full on one-shots I thought a lot about, not just random drabbles, need a lot more work. Which is why they take longer. Which I’d think is obvious to everyone (most of y’all are super understanding and nice <3), but I guess not huh...Please. Be patient with me. I’m super busy lately. But everything I said I’d post WILL be posted. I can promise this much.

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