#does even remember vine anymore
Note
for art req: Joshua (twewy) but he works at Chili's now
Does he actually have a job, or is he just here to fuck with his friends?
Bonus: (They are not impressed)
#bunkat art#answer#twewy#the world ends with you#Does anyone even remember the Hi welcom to Chilis vine? No one talks about or references it anymore....
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Backburner
Han x reader. Han is a toxic ex who won't let you move on. Angst.
Inspired by Backburner- Niki. skz song series masterlist
It's been seven weeks since you and Han broke up.
Not that you're keeping count, but it's easy to remember when he calls you every Saturday night. Without fault.
He's the one who broke up with you, flimsy excuses and teary eyes as he left your apartment. Talks about how he wasn't enough for you, how he couldn't be present for you, how he couldn't love you the way you needed to be loved.
But you wanted his love, not the one he suddenly deemed you worthy of.
Maybe that's why you still picked up, even though it's reeling you back to seven weeks ago when he had just left you. Han's no longer here and yet, he's not letting you move on. He's the perfume that lingers in the elevator long after the person is gone; he's the feeling of floating on the waves that sticks with you long after you come home from the beach.
He's an expert at kneading nostalgia into your soul, at holding you hostage by the ropes of your shared memories. You are a puppet in his hands, dangling over the edge of oblivion, only to be pulled back each time you attempt to forget.
And he's calling again, at 2 am, like he always does. You don't have to glance at your phone to know it's Han- you never changed the special ringtone you set for him. And you pick up, like you always do.
I can't lie it feels nice that you're calling
"Hey, were you sleeping?" he asks after a few silent beats.
"No, I wasn't."
He clears his throat, and you imagine him lying on his bed, fidgeting with the hem of his sweater. If you close your eyes long enough, you can still smell his cologne and the fabric softener he uses. Or maybe he changed it. You aren't around anymore to know.
"I miss you." His voice sounds broken, coming out in a strangled whisper. As horrible as it sounds, you enjoyed knowing that he felt as miserable as you- that his soul still ached for you as you ached for him.
You sound sad and alone, and you are stalling
He coughs again, trying to fill the silence from your end, but you don't budge. You never know what to expect from these calls. Sometimes he'd talk about his day, as if nothing happened, as if he was still your boyfriend and he was calling you on the way home.
Sometimes you'd both stay silent, your breaths the only thing echoing through the phone call. You'd put it on speaker and pretend he was there, lying next to you. That you'd wake up in the morning and find him smiling at your sleeping figure, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek.
And sometimes, he'd tell you how much he loves you. Those phone calls hurt the most, because if he loved you, he would have stayed, right?
I don't care about what you want, as long as you keep talking
"Yn, I... I really miss you."
"Han..." you trail out, as hot tears well in your eyes. It was hard not to crumble when he spoke this way, his words tugging harshly at your heartstrings. It brings you back to all the times he was away, bound by work obligations. How he always told you he missed you, and within it, a silent promise that he'd come back. That he'd unravel the need within you, filling every dent and crack in your heart since he left. Unlike now, gone for good.
"It's the truth, I wait all week for this one call. It's the only thing keeping me going."
Talking to Han makes you experience different emotions, all at once. Relief- when you hear his voice for the first time in a week, and you realize you still haven't forgotten how your name sounds rolling off his tongue. Sadness- when you remember that this is now the remains of your relationship. The pain wraps around you slowly- like vines intertwining themselves with old buildings, deserted just like your heart.
And then anger- when he says things like this; as if he isn't the instigator of this pain, as if some force greater than the two of you forced you apart. It maddens you, how he stabs you and then he weeps over your bloody body.
"Then why did you break up with me, Han? If it's hurting you this much then why are we even apart?" you ask, anger barely contained.
"I told you, I'm never here. You don't deserve a boyfriend like this," his tone is exasperated, as if this is a simple truth and you are supposed to swallow it down your throat, along with the rest of your feelings.
"Then stop fucking calling me Han. You aren't here but you won't let me move on!"
"Because I don't want you to move on!" he yells, and you startle at the raw pain laced in his voice. "I'm scared if I don't call you anymore, you'll forget me," his voice cracks. "And... And we'll meet ten years from now in the aisle of a random supermarket, and you'd be in love with someone else while I'm still buying the shampoo you recommended to me."
"I'm tired Han," you choke out, phone now shaking in your hand.
You'd think I'd be a fast learner, but guess I won't ever mind- crisping up on your backburner.
"Me too, baby."
"Don't call me that," you beg, "please, don't call me that."
It's pathetic but at least you are too
"I want to see you," he says, tone pleading. And you can envision him perfectly, wounded eyes looking into yours, his lower lip quivering at the thought of you saying no.
"It's not love when you treat someone this way," you tell him, wiping your tears away. "To put someone in the corner and only think of them when you are fucking lonely."
"I think of you all the time," he cuts you off, "you never leave my mind, even when I'm away. Especially when I'm away."
After everything you put me through, I somehow still believe in you
"This is wrong," you whisper, as your resolve weakens, as your longing for him threatens to consume you whole. You no longer care that his hands are choking you as long as he soothes down the burn after.
"I know it is, but I love you. Say it back, please. I need to hear it."
I'll always be in your corner
"Please," he repeats, and he sounds so vulnerable, in his way of begging you. As if your words are the oxygen with which he breathes.
"I love you."
Cause I don't feel alive until I'm burning on your backburner
You are already at the door when you hear someone knocking on it. You don't have to look through the peephole to see who it is.
You open the door, and Han's there, phone still brought up to his ear.
"Let me in?"
He doesn't need to ask, you always will.
#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#stray kids x you#skz x you#han x reader#han x you#skz angst#stray kids angst#han angst#skz imagines#stray kids imagines#stray kids imagine#skz fanfic#skz fic#skz rec#skz fluff#stray kids fluff#han jisung x reader#skz song series
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mike coming out to dustin while off on a mission in s5
they’ve been walking around for about an hour now, making casual conversation and commentary on the invalding aspects of the upside down into their world when dustin decides to ask.
“so i’ve been meaning to ask, what’s up with you and el?” dustin asks as he carefully steps over a vine.
“huh?” mike turns around to look at him, a confused expression on his face in response to the question that to him came out of no where. “what are you talking about?”
“well you guys are barley talking to each other let alone in the same room anymore. honestly it’s been nice to not turn around to you guys making out every five seconds but likewise it’s a little off putting the space between the two of you” dustin comments as they continue on.
“oh,” mike says “i mean that’s probably because we broke up.”
dustin stops and looks up at him with a clear expression of shock on his face “what?!? when!?!” “uh, since a little after the rest of us got back from lenora?” mike offers, getting a little uncomfortable by how surprised dustin is.
dustin looks at him with utmost sympathy “aw man dude that sucks, i’m so sorry.” mike shakes his head “nah it’s fine. it’s for the best i think actually.” dustin sputters “”for the best”?! man what are you talking about? you guys were completely wrapped up in each other just last summer, how could you even say that?”
“dustin-”
dustin continues rambling “i mean you guys were so focused on each other that you ended up ditching us constantly! which was just as annoying as it was sweet by the way.”
“dustin-”
“i mean! hell i thought you guys would be together forever considering when you yelled at us that you loved her that one time-”
mike turns around and snaps “well you’re wrong dustin!”
dustin stops short and looks at mike, eyes wide in shock and taken aback from his outburst. mike deflates a bit after seeing the reaction from one of his bestfriends. he sighs looking down at the ground. “you’re wrong. el and i aren’t gonna be together forever. and i don’t love her like that. hell i’m not even sure i ever actually liked her like that.”
“what? but you guys were together like all the time. and kissing all the time. will even said that you told her you loved her when she was fighting vecna?” dustin replies even more confused
mike sighs again “yeah, i did do all those things, because i thought that’s what i was supposed to do. what all guys are supposed to do with their girlfriends. and especially in that moment in the pizza cooler, i was so afraid that if i didn’t say what el wanted me to say, that she would have died. but...” mike pauses and looks up at the sky, almost like he’s contemplating something. “none of those things i did were because i liked her romantically.”
the two of them keep walking but dustin keeps staring at mike, occasionally looking down at his feet to watch where he steps, because some things still aren’t making sense to him. “okay, but like dude, i don’t get it? when she left with the byers, you were so mopey and miserable. i mean we could hardly get you to leave you basement, like, ever. and other times all you would do is complain about joyce’s telemarketer job because you couldn’t get through the phonelines every time you tired to call them. i thought that was all from you missing your girlfriend?”
mike sighs again, but this time it’s shaky. he looks nervous as he turns a concerning combination of both pale and flushed. without turning to look at dustin he replies. “yeah, i mean i was miserable. but...el...she wasn’t the only one who left hawkins. i mean, she left with the byers remember?”
dustin’s face still looks confused, even as he’s looking down to watch where he steps. “yeah i remember but what does that have to do with- oh, oh right will. i mean we all missed will dude, you’re not the only one.”
“dustin.” “what?” mike still hasn’t turned around to look at him, his head’s hanging low. finally he does turn around and his face is pale and eyes glassy, dustin’s never seen him look this nervous and scared before. he looks at dustin and his voice is shaky “please don’t make me say it.”
with the same puzzled look on his face dustin goes “say what? mike, i really don’t get...” suddenly every thing in dustin’s brain clicks. his eyes go wide as he finally, finally puts the pieces together. he whispers “holy shit”
mike looks away and that’s pretty much all dustin needs to confirm what he was thinking. “holy shit”
“dustin-”
“oh my god dude. holy shit”
mike sighs, trying to keep his breath as even as he can “look if you want to head back now i can finish this on my own, but please-”
dustin looks at him like he just said he was gonna go and put one of the demodogs on a leash “what?! dude no! are you insane? i just can’t believe i never fucking noticed!”
mike now looks confused “huh?”
“dude it makes so much sense now!” dustin looks at him like he just gave him the simplest answer to the word’s most complicated question “i mean it explains everything! ever since we were kids! how you were so protective of him, how you always spoke to him in that voice-”
“dustin-”
“i mean you were so defensive when it came to him, i mean you wouldn’t even let us within five feet of him that one night on halloween-”
“dustin-”
“oh my god! it also explains why you never shut up about him during hellfire- EDDIE! HOLY SHIT YOU HAD A CRUSH ON EDDIE TOO DIDN’T YOU!”
“DUSTIN!” mike has now turned beat red from all the revelations his friend is now deciding to share out into the open. dustin calms down from all his sudden realizations “sorry, man i really just can’t believe i never noticed.” and mike looks at him a little shyly “and you don’t care?”
dustin once again looks at him like he just offered to invite the next Demogorgon them come across over for tea “what? no man” he becomes serious “you’re still one of my best friends. and besides we’ve been through way too much shit for me to care about your obvious crush on will, WHICH I CAN’T BELIEVE I MISSED-”
“dustin!” mike’s laughing now, relieved that he’s finally admitted this to one of his bestfriends and he doesn’t hate him or find him gross or disgusting, although still somewhat embarrassed by his friend’s comment towards his crush
dustin chuckles too “sorry. man, i can’t believe how oblivious i was. steve would be so disappointed in me. don’t tell him about this too by the way. i don’t need him giving me shit about not picking up on people’s feelings when he still won’t tell me why him and robin wouldn’t work out! i was so sure about those two!”
mike gives dustin a knowing look and shakes his head as he laughs and pats him on the shoulder “don’t worry dustin, i’m sure you’ll figure it out sooner or later.” and continues off in the direct they were headed. dustin stays rooted in his spot as he stares after him slightly confused. after a minute he runs after him.
“hey wait what do you mean by that? mike? MIKE?”
#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things ficlet#byler#byler fic#byler ficlet#byler fanfic#mike wheeler#dustin henderson#wheelerson#platonic wheelerson#dustin and mike friendship#dustin being completely oblivious as usual#and him having the worst gaydar#coming out#mike wheeler i know what you are#mike wheeler loves will byers#will byers loves mike wheeler#st5 headcanon#stranger things s5 headcanon#the gears in dustins head are turning#oblivious dustin henderson#dustin henderson is a good friend#this is also probably the longest thing i've written#hope you enjoy#let me know how i did
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Robin had gone first. Then Eddie, flipping up into the right side world and tumbling down onto his own mattress. Nancy is halfway up the sheet rope when it happens. She has her back to Steve so she doesn’t even see it. Eddie watches Steve stiffen up, the whites of his eyes taking over. It’s the third time Eddie’s seen it and it’s so familiar that he recognizes it right away. He hates that he recognizes it. Eddie’s stomach clenches in fear as he looks up at Nancy climbing down to them. Nancy who doesn’t know it’s happening. Nancy who’s in the way of Eddie stopping this from happening in front of him again.
He shouts at her to fucking move as he grabs their side of the sheet rope and starts to climb back up - down? He almost bashes Nancy in the skull with his filthy Reeboks, climbing back up the sheet rope into the ceiling and flipping upside down before dropping onto the floor next to Steve.
“What’s his favorite song?” Eddie yells, looking at Nancy as she stares helplessly at Steve.
Her face scrunches up in fear and what might be shame, “I…I-I don’t know! We barely even talk anymore.” She grabs Steve by the shoulders, shaking him none too gently but it’s like he’s frozen in place, his body resists the movement. “Steve! Steve, wake up! Please, please!”
“That won’t work!” Eddie shouts, voice more than a little manic, because he’s tried it. He’s been here before and there’s no fucking way he’s going to watch Steve float up to the ceiling and break into a million pieces. “Somebody fucking do something - Dustin, what’s Steve’s favorite song?” Eddie’s screeching up at where the kids are watching in terror and he feels bad demanding their help but he doesn’t know Steve well enough and they fucking should.
Why didn’t they make a list? Why don’t they know everyone’s favorite song and not just Kate Bush?
“I-I don’t know. Steve lets us put on wh-what we like. Or just…” Dustin looks like he’s gonna cry and Eddie will feel guilty later but he does not have time for that shit right now.
He curses loudly, pushing Nancy to the side and grabbing Steve’s shoulders, “What is it man? Tears for Fears? Wham? Something terrible like that?”
Behind him, he feels someone else climbing down the rope and then he’s shoved aside as Robin gets right up in Steve’s face. She’s crying and shaking, stumbling over her feet and her words as she almost falls into Steve’s still bare chest.
“Steve? Steve, you can’t leave me. You’re my best friend, I need you. I need you. And you-you gotta sing your part, babe. ‘cause this is a duet, remember? Me and you. Just two chocolate chip cookies. We’re a duet.” Robin’s voice falters for a moment but then she begins to sing, “Don’t go-
*
“You should go first, Steve.” Nancy shoulder bumps him. “Not sure you and Eddie want to be too far apart.”
Sputtering, Steve tries to deny it but she grins. “It’s okay. You like him. I can tell.”
He ducks his head, grabbing the rope and staring up at Eddie. Eddie looks up at him, gives him a little finger wave and, yeah, Steve likes him. Shaking his head he starts to climb up through the opening in the ceiling.
Then he’s falling, falling, falling.
Thump. He lands hard. Rolling quickly to get to his feet, Steve looks around. Is he in his pool? There’s vines everywhere, lightning flashes in the sky and when he turns toward it, he sees his dad looking down at him, mouth set in a harsh line.
“Is this what you’re going to do with your life?” John Harrington says, disapproval bleeding from every word. “You’re just going to be a waste? Dead end job? No friends? No girlfriend?”
“Dad…” Steve starts, his heart in his throat like it is every single time his dad looks down at him.
“No, don’t bother. You’ve got nothing new to say for yourself. Such a disappointment.” His dad shakes his head, turning his back on Steve and walking away from the empty pool. Ignoring Steve’s crying as he pulls himself up the ladder and chases after him.
Steve doesn’t know why he’s crying. He never cries anymore. He hasn’t cried in front of his dad since he was a kid. Maybe nine or ten. Since his dad had told him that crying was for sissies. For babies. Fairies. And did he want people thinking he was a pussy?
“Steve, maybe if you just applied yourself?” His mom is saying, placating, patting Steve’s hand gently. They’re in the kitchen now. “Maybe you could do better?”
“Cynthia. Now. Leave him.” His dad says from far away. His mother flinches, pulling her hand away from Steve.
Steve reaches for her, desperate for her soft touch, for her to love him, for them both to see that he’s more than just a job and college. That he protects people. That he’s helped save the world. Why can’t they see that? Why can’t they see him?
They turn their backs and no amount of his pleading or yelling gets them to turn around or even acknowledge him.
The world shifts and Nancy’s ladling bright red punch into a cup. She’s so young and sad. He doesn’t want her to be sad. She’s so smart and good and brave. She deserves good things and Steve can give those to her. Can’t he? Movies and cuddling and attention. Like a good boyfriend.
“You’re bullshit. Bullshit. Your love is… bullshit. ” She’s petulant and childish when she says it. She’s accusing him, blaming him, leaving him. “Everything is bullshit. We’re bullshit.”
“But-” He starts but she turns away, walking away until he can’t reach out for her. Can’t touch her thin frame or her delicate shoulders. He can hear her crying and whispering ‘bullshit’ but he can’t get through to her.
“Nancy, please, please. I love you. I just want to be here for you. I want to protect you, keep you safe. Can’t you hear me? Can’t you see that? I’m not - I’m not bullshit. Please don’t leave me.” He pleads, reaching out for her but falling short time and again.
*
Eddie runs into his Upside Down bedroom, stumbles for a moment because it’s the same but different and then he zeroes in on Wayne’s old acoustic guitar. The one he’d given Eddie after teaching him to play a Johnny Cash song on it. He’d fallen head over heels in love with music after that. Teaching himself to pick up just about any song and mimic it on his guitar. It wasn’t until high school that he’d actually learned to read music.
He races back to where Robin is singing and starts playing the chords to her song. Hoping with everything he has that it’s enough. That wherever Steve is battling Vecna, that he can hear them.
*
There’s a boy in a chair, a man bending over his arm with a machine. The boy is whimpering, clenching his teeth as the buzzing sound fills the room. The buzzing stops and the man sets the tool aside, wiping something from the kid’s arm to reveal a 001 tattoo on his forearm.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He says in a pleasant voice. “Nothing to be afraid of, is there, Steve?” He turns to look at Steve with bright blue eyes and guttural voice, saying, “Why don’t you take a seat?”
Steve runs into the hallway. It feels like a hospital, there’s blood on the walls and bodies on the floor as Steve runs. He comes to a boarded up door, yanking the boards off one by one.
Behind him, the guttural voice calls out, “Steve.” He turns. The monster walking toward him is horrifying. It’s a man but not. “What are you doing? It’s not time for you to leave.” Steve pulls off more of the boards. “Now that you’ve seen where I’ve been. I’d like to show you where I’m going.”
Breaking through the door finally, Steve finds himself back in the first room and then in the chair that the kid had been in, vines twining around his arms and legs as he struggles against them. The monster leans over him, breathing putrid breath in his face. “I want you to tell Eleven everything you see.”
And then Steve’s mind fills with visions of death and destruction, the bodies of the kids, gates opening through Hawkins, the world falling into the Upside Down. He screams.
*
It’s far away at first, “don’t go breaking…” Almost too soft to hear over the other voices but when Steve turns, the music gets louder. He follows until he’s suddenly standing in his kitchen. The sun is shining through the windows like it does in the afternoons. Robin’s there. Her long skinny legs, so white and freckly, stick out from under a pair of his gym shorts that she's stolen permanently because “Harrington, no one needs to see that much of your thighs” and one of her own geeky band sweatshirts. She’s such a dork. He loves her so much.
“I’m personally offended that you don’t wear a frilly apron when you bake cookies, Steve.” She says with that nasally lilt to her voice when she’s making fun of him. She leans around him, poking one finger into the bowl and snaking it back to shove into her mouth.
“Hey!” He smacks her hand with the wooden spoon. “You’ll get salmonella.”
“Who cares? Cookie dough is worth it. Especially yours. Why is it so good? What kind of magic do you put in these?” She tries to reach around him for another finger full but he moves his whole body to block her.
“God, you’re like a fucking raccoon. Hands off!” Steve’s laughing, scooting his body back and forth to block her attempts to get to the bowl.
Whatever song that was on the radio fades out and the intro for Elton John’s “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” comes on, Robin squeals. “This is our song!”
“What?” He laughs, turning toward her and missing the hand that sneaks past him but she’s just grabbing the wooden spoon this time. She eats the small bit on the spoon and then holds it up like a microphone.
“You and me, Harrington. We can’t break each other’s hearts because we are each other's hearts. There’s no one like us.” She grins, dancing on her socked feet, giving a little spin.
Steve smiles to spite himself, wiping his hands on a towel and stepping away from the counter to join her, “Just two chocolate chip cookies in a world full of oatmeal raisins?”
“Yes!” She exclaims and then immediately picks up Elton John’s part, “Don’t go breaking my heart!” Crooning, leaning in and singing right into the spoon. She doesn’t sing the next line.
“Oh, wait - am I the girl part? Of course I am.” Steve sighs, pretending to be exasperated but leaning into it. Shimmying his shoulders and dancing toward her.
She laughs, singing, “Oh honey if I get restless.”
He leans in, “Baby you’re not that kind.”
She spins, tossing the spoon into the sink and grabbing his hand to swing it back and forth during the musical transition, “Oh don’t go breaking my heart…”
“You take the weight off of me,” Steve sings back, grabbing her other hand to dance her around.
“Oh honey when you knock on my door,” She tries to sing sexily but she’s awkward and goofy and has no experience trying to be sexy.
Steve gives her his patented smolder, “Ohhhh, I gave you my key.”
She rolls her eyes but they both sing the “oooo, ooos” as Steve twirls a screeching Robin into his chest. She flails, her complete lack of dance experience making it impossible for her to look like anything other than a graceless flamingo.
They sing together, right in each other's faces, “Nobody knows it.”
Vines grow along the ceiling and Steve’s stomach sinks. The music fades out and his hands are empty. The silence is so loud and the kitchen is empty save for the vines growing along the counters and out of the cabinets. He’s alone. Alone in this big giant house where there was never music or laughter. Where he only disappointed people. Where he let them down. Where Steve wasn’t enough for them to love him.
“When I was down...” Robin’s voice sings from somewhere far away. It’s trembling like she’s crying and Steve can’t let her cry, she’s his best friend. His soulmate. His other half.
*
Robin is singing Elton’s parts to the song and whispering Kiki Dee’s for Steve, tears are flowing freely down her freckled cheeks. On the other side of her, Eddie can see Nancy crying too. He can hear the kids crying above them.
Tears slide out from under Steve’s white eyes, one on each cheek, slipping down his dirty, bloody face to fall from his jawline onto Eddie’s vest. Faintly, so faintly, Steve whispers, “I was your clown.”
Eddie grabs Robin’s flailing hand, “Keep going Buckley.”
Eddie sings the “ooo ooos” with her, strumming along, and they both sing, “Nobody knows it….nobody knows it.”
*
The kitchen turns red, the walls separating to reveal a wasteland, a staircase, a clock, pillars of vines and bodies that Steve doesn’t want to look at. And him. Vecna. Henry Creel…001 as he’s just revealed himself.
“Steve Harrington. So much pain. You hid it so well. Let go. They don’t want you. They don’t need you. They have people better than you, faster than you, smarter than you.” His voice creeps like the vines and Steve wishes he had his nailbat, his baby. “They’re not even trying to save you. Why should they? You’ve never been enough for them.”
Robin’s voice sings so softly it’s almost like a breeze across a desert, “right from the start, I gave you my heart.”
Steve turns toward her voice and sees an opening in the red wasteland. It’s dark on the other side but he can see Robin, her face scrunched up in fear, Eddie’s big brown eyes pleading, Nancy holding onto Robin’s shoulder, whispering the words of the song along with her.
Steve runs. He runs to his girl. His Robin. His platonic with a capital P soulmate.
The broken, bloody bodies of the kids fall into his path like boulders and they might have slowed Steve down, might have tripped him up but he remembers now that he wouldn’t fail them. Not while he could still run, not while he could fight. He would never let them fall so the bodies falling around him aren't real.
They’re not.
“Ohhhh I gave you my heart,” He sings out as he runs to her.
*
Tears are flowing freely down Steve’s face now, matching Robin’s and the kids. He’s still in the trance and he hasn’t sung anymore of the lines yet but Robin’s still singing, even though now it’s more tears and snot than notes. Eddie lends her his voice, singing along with her, “Don’t go breaking my heart,” and then singing Steve’s part, “I won’t go breaking your heart!”
Then together again, “Don’t go breaking my heart.”
*
He’s almost there. Steve can see everyone clearly through the portal now. Can feel Vecna’s laughter behind him. The ground shakes and the world starts to collapse onto itself as he leaps through the opening -
*
Steve’s eyes blink once, twice, then open normally and he throws himself into Robin’s arms like he’d been running to get there. Maybe he has. Eddie isn’t sure he wants to know what it’s like on the other side of this thing. As Steve launches himself into Robin’s arms he sings, “Nobody told us, cause nobody showed us” and Robin, still crying, sings back, “Now it’s up to us babe, Oh I think we can make it.”
They’re laughing and crying, foreheads pressed together. Her arms are holding him tight and he’s got one arm around her shoulders and the other cupping her head to keep them pressed together.
“I love you. I love you so much, Robbie.” Steve cries, clutching her tighter still. Eddie feels like they’re all intruding because he’s never seen such a blatant display of love before. He can’t even be mad as the crush he has on Harrington bows out gracefully. How could he? Robin just saved Steve’s life. She deserves to get the guy.
“I love you too, dingus. Don’t you ever scare me like that again.” Robin rears back and smacks Steve on the shoulder, wiping her tears with the other hand. “I’m so glad that song fucking worked. You’re baking me so many cookies after this.”
Chuckling, Steve wipes at her tears with his thumbs, “Deal.” Then he turns to Nancy, hugging her much more gently than he had Robin. “Thanks Nance.”
Eddie glances up at the hole in the ceiling. Dustin and Erica are leaning against each other and Lucas is holding Max in his arms. They’re faces are red from crying and they’ve all got their eyes locked on Steve.
Steve moves from Nancy to Eddie. Much to his surprise, Eddie is enveloped into a warm, tight hug, “Thanks, Eddie. I could hear you, too. Thank you.” Steve pulls him in again, like he’s reassuring himself that Eddie’s there, or maybe just that Steve isn’t dead.
“Sure man, of course. I’m not sure how I would have handled it if it hadn’t worked.” He doesn’t say if Steve had died. He doesn’t say if he’d had to watch someone die that way again. It’s there though, just the same.
Steve nods, like he knows. He probably does.
Cross posted on Ao3
#steve harrington#eddie munson#robin buckley#eventual steddie#platonic stobin#stranger things#series#part one
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The Thorns in My Soul are For You
Description: a Hanahaki Disease AU, Reader is in love with Dazai and has been for a long while. They were in the port mafia but they left with Dazai
Word Count: 2208
Part 3
Previous Part |
TW: Blood, mentions of sickness, coughing up stomach contents, hospital scene
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During the course of a few weeks, things turned from bad to worse. You had been keeping track of the news, seeing more and more vampire sightings along with updates of political meetings. You had to disguise yourself every time you stepped out in public, there were a couple close calls with police and other official authorities. You even had a few encounters with vampires.
Everything had taken a toll on you, much earlier than you’d like to admit. A few nights had been spent crying yourself to sleep or not sleeping at was a more popular outcome. All the running and the emotional breakdowns were not helped at all by the disease growing in your lungs. In fact, it made the disease grow stronger, rendering you weaker by the day.
Petals exploded on the ground, accompanied by their stems and fully grown flowers, soaked in your blood. Another painful cough hacked it’s way out of your system, ejecting even more fully bloomed flowers onto the floor. You’d have to leave this place within the next few hours if you were to escape authorities. Thankfully, you planned to leave within the next few moments.
You were too weak to run, too loud to hide anymore. The inevitability of your capture was approaching. You stopped going out a few days ago, your stomach growled in hunger and your body longed for water. Everything in your body ached, your chest aching the worst of all. But despite all the pain, you would rather die than be caught by vampires or police. But you wanted to make one last stop before you were to die.
You had travelled back to Yokohama, it had taken you a while, but you managed to sneak by everything.
Throwing the hood over your head to better hide your identity, you ventured out of the rundown building you claimed as your final home. It wasn’t far from your destination, but it still took you 20 minutes to get to the cemetery.
The leaves rustled in the wind, almost like they were excited to see you after months of no visits. You clambered up the stone steps, quietly approaching the one lone gravestone beneath a large tree.
“Hi Odasaku. Long time no see.” Your voice was quiet, not by choice as you began to feel the itchiness of another coughing fit brewing.
“Sorry I’ve been gone so long, I had to keep a low profile for a while. But now I’m here again. I can’t keep running anymore. The vines are digging in, even now as I’m standing here I can feel them growing deeper into my lungs.” You take a moment to breathe. “I don’t have long left, I’ll be seeing you personally soon. Maybe we can play chess again, I’ve gotten better since the last time we played. I’m sure I have a chance against you.”
Your mind begins to wander, flashbacks of the past coming to the forefront of your mind.
Moments where Odasaku laughed with you as you swapped out Chuuyas wine for blackcurrant juice. Times where you took a stroll along the beach with him, catching up after a long mission away. You remember the training he gave you, where you first beat him after years of it. That was the only chance you had at beating him. Times where Dazai -
Dazai.
You haven’t seen him in so long. Last you heard of him he had been captured by the hunting dogs and was being held in a highly secured prison.
You weren’t going to get the chance to say goodbye to him. You’d never be able to tell him how you really felt, and you had no way to write it down either. You were going to die without saying anything to him or leaving him with anything. Or perhaps he thought you already were? Maybe he does think you’re dead. That’s why no one tried finding you and bringing you back. You’d leave no trace of yourself in this world. You’d be a memory for those who cared, which were limited.
This spiral of thoughts caused your breathing to increase, triggering the violent reaction your lungs had been cooking up.
You couldn’t breathe in. All you could do was cough and choke, barely a sound left you. Your vision blurred, red spotting the once grey slate in front of you. You collapsed on the ground, convulsing with each cough that forced its way out of you. Vines were spilling out your mouth, a few of them accompanied by thorns which shredded your throat.
You were dying. Right now.
Your final resting place would be that of your best friend. At least Dazai wouldn’t have to go to separate places to mourn.
You laid on your back, giving in to the fact that breathing in was no longer an option. Instead you opted to wait out the seconds as your brain shut down.
Everything hurt. But it wasn’t painful. It was… numb. Peaceful.
Your eyes grew heavy, unable to stay open any longer.
As you closed them, you saw a figure slide into your vision before it finally blacked out.
~•~
Everything felt heavy. Your eyes, your hands, your chest, your mind.
Were you alive? You had no idea, you couldn’t open your eyes or even feel anything. It was like you were submerged in water, forcing you into a senseless pit.
But your ears were still working, sounds filtered through them. It took you a while but you finally managed to decipher them. A conversation was taking place near you, and you recognised their voices almost instantly.
“She nearly died, asshole!” Chuuya sounds furious. “You are one of the smartest people I know yet you were so fucking dumb to not open your fucking eyes! Dazai they could’ve died!” Dazai? He’s here? But what’s Chuuya talking about? “They stopped breathing. Their heart stopped beating! It’s a fucking miracle the doctors managed to bring them back, but they cannot do it a second time.”
“I thought I had more time.” Dazai sounded hurt, his voice soft. But despite that, he was closer to you then Chuuya was. “I thought I could wait until all this was over.”
“That isn’t how the disease works and you know it! It doesn’t wait for the right time, we’re lucky as hell that they managed to survive with it for so long!!” Chuuya was really mad. “They almost died! Is that the moment you were waiting for?!”
Silence subdued the moment before Dazai whispered his response. “No.”
“Did you think you could waltz up to their grave and confess to them? Hoping that would be enough?”
Dazai didn’t respond to that.
“You need to grow your fucking balls and answer the god damn question.” There was silence for a few seconds. “Do you love them?”
The air was suffocating now, suspension hanging on tightly within the room. You could hear your heart beating through your ears. The feeling of a heavy weight seemed to press into you, the suspension dragging on.
Until…
“I do. I love them.”
In the span of three seconds, everything happened.
You felt shock ripple through your system, practically vibrating your body. Your lungs ceased and seemed to convulse into itself, forcing you to splutter out thick liquid. But something was in the way. Your eyes remained closed as your body shook with each strangled cough you let out, blood and roses struggling to get past the intubation tube.
Voices shouted over you saying things that you couldn't quite catch, still muffled due to the shock. Hands were on your body, keeping you still as more were felt at your head.
It was so much. The hands, the tube, the coughing, the mixture of pain and relief. You lost consciousness again.
When you regained your awareness, your body felt lighter, at ease. For a moment, you thought you were dead. But you managed to open your eyes, noting how light they now felt.
White tiled walls. Machines accompanied by wires and tubes. Bed railing on one side. Everything seemed plain and simple for a hospital.
You took a few deep breaths-
Wait.
You breathed in again, air flowing freely within you. You could breathe clearly now. No more breathing through what felt like a blocked up vent. The flowers were no more!
Relief washed over you, a smile carving its way onto your face. You could almost cry.
The sound of slight shuffling startled you. Your gaze shifted to your left, only now taking into account the fact that you were sitting up slightly, bed raised to support you. Dazai rested his head on the bed, one arm being used as a pillow while his other hand held onto yours.
You stared at your hands, his tightly gripped one against your slack one. His hand felt warm. At least warmer than yours. You could tell by the dark circles under his eyes and the sunken features of his face that he hadn’t been taking care of himself. His usual fit was swapped out for a loose fitting jumper, making him appear smaller, along with a pair of track pants. He looked so rugged and tired, different to his typical cheerful demeanour he danced around with. Even his hand looked more skeletal than it should be.
Taking a slow breath, you tighten your grip, allowing your fingers to smoothly rest between his. It felt like the final pieces of the puzzle were coming together.
Dazai twitched, startling you. You wanted to pull your hand away from his, but he stopped you.
Brown eyes opened, lazily looking at yours. You could practically see his brain processing everything. He suddenly sat up, eyes wide and mouth agape.
“(Y/n)?” His voice was hoarse, most likely from having just woken up from his slumber.
“Dazai?” Your own voice was rough, but you chose to ignore it.
Dazai surged forward, swiftly removing his hand from yours, instead wrapping both his arms around you, bringing you into his chest.
You whimpered in his arms, overwhelmed by a rush of emotions. He is here, holding onto you for life. You encircle your arms around his waist, noting how skinny and fragile he felt compared to usual.
Tears flowed down your cheeks silently, soaking into the beige jumper Dazai is wearing.
“I’m so sorry (Y/n), I should’ve said something sooner. It’s my fault you ended up like this.”
For a moment you're confused. But then everything catches up to you. Wriggling out of his arms, you look up at him, his features dulled by malnutrition. Your hands come up to rest on his cheeks, thumbs gently stroking away his own tears that had flowed from his eyes.
“It’s not your fault. I’m okay now. I’m here.” Dazai can only nod, more tears escaping. “Did you really mean what you said? About liking me?”
Dazai stares at you for a moment, his brown eyes flickering between yours. The next moment, his lips are on yours. They meld perfectly together, moving in sync with no rush in movement.
“Fucking finally. Only took you three years to grow some balls.”
You detach from each other, turning to look at Chuuya. A smile spreads across your face. “Hi Chuuya.”
Chuuya scowls. “Don’t just ‘hi Chuuya’ me. You gave me the biggest fucking panic. Do you know how terrifying it is to watch your friend vomit and cough up their lungs and collapse in the middle of the street?!” You frown, leaning your head against Dazai’s chest. “Whatever. I’m glad you two are finally together after dancing around each other for so long.” He walks up to you and drops a plastic bag full of food at your feet. “Doctor says you need to eat to replenish your energy. Your body is still getting rid of the disease so it will take a couple of days to do so, and that means you need to keep up your food. Mackerel you need to eat as well. You look like a sack of bones.”
“Aww does chibi miss me?” Dazai quips back with a smile. It’s good to see their usual banter return. It feels like the entire dynamic between the three of you has returned after so long.
Chuuya scoffs, but you don’t miss and quirk in his lips as he turns away. “Whatever. Just eat all the damn food.” He closes the door behind him, leaving you and Dazai alone once again.
Dazai pulls away from you, grabbing the nearby chair to take his seat, but your hand on his arm stops him. He looks up at you.
“Sit with me?” You say with a smile before shuffling across the bed, making room for Dazai.
“Are you sure?” When you reply with a nod, he slowly climbs into the bed next to you, grabbing the bag of food before adjusting the bed angle so you two can comfortably lean back and eat.
The next couple of days are spent like that. Sleeping together in the one bed, eating bags of food that Chuuya brings alongside the ADA, and talking about mundane topics.
When you are finally discharged from the hospital, you and Dazai walk out the door, hands intertwined with each other.
#bungou stray dogs#bsd#bsd x reader#bungo stray dogs#bungou stray dogs x reader#dazai osamu#dazai x reader#bsd dazai#dazai osamu x reader
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Family Formation - Primal
Summary: 225.
CW: !!spoilers!!leaks!!225!! DO NOT READ IF U DO NOT WANT SPOILERS, vomit, panic, shock, tears, canon violence, blood, angst.
A/N: I’m sorry.
I’m really sorry.
Silence. Is it silent? Or is it deafening? You don’t know – all you know is the ringing in your ears.
Your bones seem to vanish from within you as all remaining strength leaves your body and you barely even feel your body make contact with the tiles beneath you. There’s just the ringing.
Green. Everywhere. As your knees hit the ground an explosion of powerful cursed energy ripples through the room. Walls crack from the roots exploding through them. The windows shatter at the piercing thorny vines that emanate from your body. Your cursed energy so strong your body couldn’t hold it – because you weren’t there. Every plant within a kilometre dies. Claws and fangs erupt from hands and teeth.
Ancient techniques seeping from your bones. No longer in control.
Primal. Fucking. Fear.
Satoru. Satoru.
It’s not like you notice any of this. You’re not controlling it.
There is no control.
You don’t even register that you’re vomiting. Or that you’re sobbing.
Or that you’re screaming.
Fight or flight.
Your body chose fight.
Fight to Satoru fight to satoru fight to Satoru fight to
You begin to move your body in the direction of the door. If you can just move fast enough you can get there, you get get to him, you can save him.
He needs you he needs you he needs you he needs you they need you.
Why can’t you move? Why won’t your arms move? Why are you trapped?
Let me go let me go met me go let me go let me go
You’re screaming and kicking and clawing to against your restraints but they are steadfast.
There’s no sounds but ringing, no instinct but that to run to him. Your vision is blurred. There’s only one word in your mind.
Satoru.
Shoko doesn’t scream. But this time, she does. She sees the screen, the domains, the curse and the man – her best friend. She sees everything.
She sees the pale skin.
She sees the slash.
She screams. She hears voices screaming. She sees you. A pile of skin and vomit. She rushes to you, face wet and stomach churning but she needs to get to you.
After all, her best friend has just watched her husband’s neck be slashed.
Then you’re moving, your body darts away. You’re trying to get to him.
Y/N. Distress. If she can’t handle things her first instinct is to call for Gojo. Or Geto. Even Nanami.
Remembers a day in high school you fought the higher ups – she called Gojo.
A day when your anxiety felt like you’d cripple – Geto.
Nightmares of losing Satoru to Toji – Nanami.
Nightmares of losing everyone – her.
But she can’t. Because two of them are dead, oh my god, is it three?
No – she won’t lose you too. She grasps your arms but she can’t hold you. You’re thrashing and screaming and then she doesn’t feel it anymore. A stronger body catches you to engulf (restrain).
She’s seen him come back from the dead before. Another slash in the necks. You’d seen it too. Death and then alive.
He became a god that day.
Her logical doctor brain says he’s not dead he has done this before.
That doesn’t make it easier to watch.
He’s not dead, and she knows it.
“Y/N. He’s not dead. He can use Reverse CT. Y/N, listen, he’s not dead.”
She doesn’t think you can hear her.
This – you, right now – this is primal fear.
Your body is still screaming, still clawing – more viciously now that there’s more strength behind your hold. You're clawing at black robes, the body so much larger and taller than you that you’re a kitten trying to break a brick wall.
You’re feral in your panic.
Strong arms hold you to the body. The face of the body’s owner stony in its attempt at composure.
Choso.
She locks eyes with him, he nods to her. Tears in his own eyes.
He knows. If you run to him, you’ll die. You’re family to him now. You have cared for his younger brother. He barely knows Gojo Satoru. He has only known you two weeks. But he knows he must protect you. You are Yuuji’s family – so you are his.
Somehow, Gojo had known to trust him. Before he had left for Sukuna – he had turned to him.
“Keep her safe.” He had said to him.
As he left, he saw your exchange with your husband.
He had lifted you, legs wrapped around his waist, arms arms your hips. Choso had thought it was quite funny how tiny you were compared to Satoru – disparity evident as he saw you in his arms.
You were smiling as you threaded your hands through your husbands hair as you both giggled into a passionate kiss.
Shoko had rolled her eyes at this – “You two have been together for 12 years, 3 kids and married for 5 – why the fuck do you still act 17?” Choso detected no malice in the doctor’s words, however. Friendship? He thinks that it.
“Go get our boy back, ‘toru.” You say to him, as he ever so gently sets you on the ground. You’re still smiling like you’re looking at the best thing in the world. Was that love? Choso wondered. True, real, unapologetic love – he saw the same thing reflected in Gojo’s face. You two were the only people in the universe that moment. He thinks that is true love. That was how Yuuji and the dark haired boy, Megumi, had looked at each other too. Choso thinks the world needs more of that.
“As you wish. See you in a minute, Princess.” Gojo presses one more kiss to your lips and walks away with a wink.
See you in a minute.
Bring our boy back.
There was no question of whether or not he’d come back. It wasn’t even a consideration that he would lose.
He guesses that is what made this current moment worse.
Still holding his body and arms taut as a prison to keep you from collapsing or escaping to run to your husband and son – he looks for Yuuji.
He has also tried to leave – held back by Okkotsu and Inumaki, Higuruma and Ino. They can barely restrain him. Yuuji notices you – screeching like a banshee and fighting against Choso like a caged wild animal.
He just saw the curse that lived in his body, now in the body of his true love, slash the neck of his sensei. He wasn’t dead. Gojo-sensei was not dead. He wasn’t, Yuuji refused to believe it.
Megumi. Please come back to me, to her, to us.
Gojo Satoru was not dead.
He wasn’t fucking dead.
He thinks of you. Your son. Your husband. He couldn’t promise you he wasn’t dead. He couldn’t make that vow.
He rushes to you.
Shoko is there too, staring between you and the screen – he thinks she’s in shock.
You vomit again.
He wraps his arms around you as you continue to throw up. Your screaming has stopped with the vomiting and your body falls weak from exertion and shock. Your eyes are blank. You’re staring at the door now, being held in Choso’s arms and Yuuji wrapped around you.
Blank eyes, staring at the door. Waiting for someone to let you free so you can go to him. You need to fight. For him.
He needs you he needs you he needs you he needs you.
You’re muttering. He thinks it’s mindless but when he listens closely, it’s just one word. Over and over and over again. You screamed so hard your throat is raw and there is blood leaking from the corner of your mouth – scratches all over your body from thrashing.
One word.
Again. And again.
“Satoru.”
#jjk#jjk x reader#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#anime#jjk manga#jjk manga spoilers#jjk manga leaks#jjk leaks#jjk spoilers#gojo angst
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In the show Donnie has been canonically confirmed to be autistic I believe and Mikey with ADHD. Did those prove to affect how they were treated or raised in any way? And aside from flopping on people does Donnie still have a bit of a aversion to touch and people who are exceptions? Or does he ignore any uncomfortable feeling he has about anything because he's been through worse and if so how do the turtles help him unlearn these negitive things?
Did Mikey's ADHD ever get him in trouble with big momma and in the battle nexus? I would ask more but I don't want to overload-
Donnie is still autistic, and Draxum did try to “train out” the behavior he didn’t consider warrior-like (God he’s such an asshole in this—and I LIKE canon Draxum 🤣 but I really am making him worse than Shredder at this point). He waited to start the really heavy experiments until Three was older, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t punish him harshly when he “acted foolish”. Draxum would grab and pull Three all the time, either by the arm or he’d use his vines to restrain him where he wanted him. So most of Donnie’s touch aversion here comes from being reminded of that. I am personally of the opinion that Donnie isn’t as so much touch averse in canon—He’s seen constantly touching his family and April and though sometimes he may have a slight grimmace, you can see that he eases into the hug and even initiates a lot of them. I think his hangups are more texture based and that he doesn’t like being caught off guard, which are still present here, and unfortunately, Draxum uses against him in ways we’ll find out. But Donnie does appreciate that his brothers and Splinter give him the option of saying no. It gives him a sense of control over the situation and he finds accepting and initiating contact easy and comforting more often than not, unless it’s a real bad day.
Big Mama was very doting on Mikey, and spoiled him rotten. She got him the best tutors for his education, but Mikey drove almost all of them into quitting except for his martial arts, and art tutors. As a result Mikey has more of a classical art style, and Big Mama puts his paintings all over the lobby of her hotel. But Big Mama is fickle, and after so many years she grows bored enough with him, and sees how strong he’s gotten, that she can’t pass up the opportunity of dropping him into the Nexus. She still gives him treats for his wins, but it’s framed more like prizes to her champion than gifts for her child. Still, Mikey sees them as gifts for doing well, and imagines one day when he wins enough fights, she’ll let him out.
It isn’t until after he’s rescued that he reads up on art therapy, and tries to get back into art. Sadly he finds he doesn’t have the taste for it anymore which devastates him and causes a bout of intense depression…until April suggests that he try a whole new style, something his tutor never covered, and takes him on a tour of the city to see all the coolest street art. In days he’s got most of the lair covered in graffiti.
Mikey does have ADHD, in fact most of his scars come from times where he got distracted in the ring. At night in the barracks he tries to pull from happy memories and beneath the good times spent with Big Mama there’s something else he can’t quite grab hold of, but it comforts him enough for him to keep fighting. On the other hand, Leo remembers almost nothing from Shredder warping his memories so much.
Lastly, Shredder was a harsh taskmaster, very manipulative and told Leo lie after lie to get him to hate Splinter. Leo trained from before sunrise to after sunset, and didn’t talk to many people outside of Shredder’s inner circle of commanders. He was taught a wide range of studies, including war strategy, weaponry, and languages. Shredder was never really…cruel, without reason like Draxum, but if he ever felt Leo was lacking in training or not following his commands to the letter, he would show no mercy. Leo is treated with a lot of respect from most of the foot recruits. Of course some of the older commanders (🤐) aren’t too happy when a literal child is given such a high position of power, but they would never argue with the Shredder.
If you have any more questions please check out the Separated AU tag and my pinned post! I might’ve already answered it!
@lockoutkey @nyxthedragon225, @froggiethelesbian
#separated au#ask slushie#rottmnt separated au#that’s pretty much all I’ll say at the moment on their childhoods as i have plans to expand on them further#hopefully that’s enough to tide everyone over until i can get pages out
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Once Upon a December - The Invitation - Walter x Reader - P1
first vampire/the invitation fic les gooooooo NOTE HEAVY SPOILERS, DOES FOLLOW THE MOVIE/PLOT CLOSLY...that is until it dont, i’m a sucker for happy endings~
(i specialize in Thomas Doherty characters x readers so if i wrote something wrong no i didn't)
=
They said I was found by the side of a road, there were tracks all around; it had recently snowed. In the darkness and cold with the wind in the trees
A girl with no name, and no memories but these
-
It was dark, cold, and wet-that’s all you could remember-the flashes of fire and lightning, the echo of screams, a hand in yours, pulling you to what seemed to be safety, and then…gone. Someone screaming a name that-seemed to be yours, their voice sobbing and desperate as they drifted away until you couldn’t hear them anymore.
“(y/n)-NO-(y/n)!!!”
You don’t know how you got separated from them, they seemed to care a lot about you, just from how they screamed for you. But you could recall your foot hitting something-metal and slippery, and you fell; hitting your head. You had a nasty scar from it to this day.
You woke up to what felt like-hundreds of years later but couldn't have been more than a few weeks realistically, you couldn’t remember anything, only your name, your age, and the feeling that you were missing something…or someone-by your side.
All you had was a ruby crystal, silver stems and thorns holding it tight to the leather cord around your neck with two small letters engraved into the gem. ‘H.D’. Along the silver vines was another engraving, in the same style as the first except it seemed to simply be an extension of the last letter.
Deville.
It was so simple; you had the initials and the last name. All you had to do was match the name to the person, but-even after years of searching, be it through books or the internet; nothing popped up. A clue that led to nothing, it left you to wonder; who was this H. Deville?
And could you find them? Could you discover your lost past?
It seemed like a long shot, since this-Deville didn’t seem to exist, not a single search engine had any answers, not even a family tree to maybe help you find them.
Maybe this-Deville had disappeared in the same incident that had caused you to lose your memories 10 years ago, you sighed remembering the day you woke up; all alone on a roadside, freezing cold with snow covering you and the forest surrounding you.
You had wandered into the town nearby, a kind family taking you in and warming you up, giving you new clothes, and doing their best to help you. But with no memories, and no account of-who you were other than your possible name-they couldn’t. Somehow you ended up in new York, homeless and doing your best to survive.
That is-until you met Evie Jackson, your now roommate and one of your only friends, whom you had met during a catering job and hit it off pretty quickly; when she heard about how you were homeless and just looking for a place to crash until you could save up for your own place, she offered her apartment.
You had told her many times that you were grateful for her offer but-you couldn’t just-take half of her space, especially as someone she just met. But she insisted and now here you were, four years later, still living together.
With your combined paychecks, you had been able to move out of her studio apartment to a two-bedroom only a year after you met/started living together, and you were both just scraping by, doing your best to survive in a world that didn't favor you. Evie was a wonderful girl, smart and kind, with a wonderful sense of humor, and wicked ceramic skills. Your favorite thing from her was a beautifully made vase you always made sure to keep stocked with flowers, she had made it for your first birthday in the apartment. You did have to admit, you did cry.
You were just grateful that you had someone, two people in fact, that you cared about so deeply and they felt the same; you wouldn’t trade Evie or Grace for all the riches in the world. They made you feel just-so much less alone than you really were, a girl with no memories of her past other than voices and snow.
You were ripped out of your thoughts and memories as Evie walked into the apartment, sighing heavily as she kicked off her heels and gently threw her backpack onto the couch; before plopping next to you with a raspberry “long day?” you asked, knowing Evie had to work at this boring catering gig about a 10-year anniversary or whatever. She just groaned, leaning into you and hugging your arm.
You laughed gently, squishing your cheek into her head “Long day. I made pasta if you want it? Ravioli~” Evie perked up, opening one eye to get a good look at you “it’s that uh-lobster and ricotta cheese one I bought a few days ago, made some garlic rolls to go with it too”
Evie hummed, realizing the smell of garlic and lobster still waved about in the small space that was known as the living room and kitchen. “yes please” Evie muttered, huffing as you slipped out of her hold to go make her a bowl “Can you get me a Fanta too? Please?”
“Yep yep!” you called back, taking the leftover pasta out and heating it up in the microwave, sticking your hands in your hoodie pockets as Evie went to her room to change, sick of the full black outfit she had been wearing for hours on end. You took out Evie’s preferred pasta sauce and an orange Fanta, getting one for yourself as well; eyeing up the chocolate cake that was inside the fridge before closing it and finishing up Evie’s bowl, setting it on the counter with a re-toasted garlic roll on a paper towel.
“Orders up!” you yelled down the hall, laughing as Evie made a sarcastic laugh, coming back out of her room in a comfortable-looking set of overalls and her hair up. “Thank you (y/n), I really appreciate it, today was just-guh” Evie muttered, giving you a quick hug before collecting her food and drink, plopping back down on the couch to eat.
She un-paused the movie on your laptop and you sat down next to her, the two of you enjoying the near silence as you watched the cheesy vampire “horror” movie you had pulled up. By the end of it the two of you were cheesing it, sharing the small bottles of wine Evie had brought back in the little goodie bag grace had scored.
“I mean, who would be scared of that?” Evie snorted, gesturing to the goofy-looking vampire with obviously fake teeth and horribly done hairline. “man’s looks like Dracula on meth” At this you cracked up, sliding down the couch as Evie smirked in victory, finishing off her bottle before standing up to go wash her bowl “Thanks for dinner (y/n), really”
you smiled at her and gave her a thumbs up, sitting up to change the movie as Evie washed up. “I’m gonna do some ‘pottery’” Evie mocked, using air quotes as you rolled your eyes “I said I was sorry, Ceramics~” you teased, having referred to her art as pottery only once and she still made fun of you about it to this day. Evie stuck her tongue out and sat down in her chair, taking a chunk of clay and slapping it down on her table.
You glanced at her as a few minutes later she made a frustrated noise and smushed down the bowl she had been making, pulling it up with the cord and throwing the clay with its ruined brethren. You looked away as she sighed, wiping her forehead. “Please tell me there's more mini-wine bottles in that bag” Evie muttered, standing up and walking over to you, holding her hand out as you grabbed the back and checked.
“Two more” you muttered, handing her the bag and looking away as she muttered thanks and took out one of the two wine bottles “You okay?” Evie shrugged, fiddling with her necklace like she always did when she was feeling alone. “You still have clay on your hands.”
Evie’s eyes widened and she yelped, looking down at her now clay-covered necklace and slamming the wine bottle onto the table, rushing to go wash her hands and necklace. You took a paper towel and cleaned the bottle before setting it back down on the table, resting your feet on the table as Evie walked back in, rubbing her face with her now clean hands.
“You wanna talk about anything?” you asked as she grabbed the wine bottle and the bag, smiling softly as she shook her head “Okay, I'm one doorway away if you need anything, okay?” Evie smiled at you, nodding as she turned to retire to her room “Goodnight Eve”
“Night Anya” you rolled her eyes at her nickname for you, but if fit; you matched the fictionalized Anastasia all too well. You just hoped your story would follow her’s in turn. Soon enough you were going to bed, passing by Evie’s room to hear her mother's voice faintly through the door. You frowned, knowing Evie was feeling just as lost as you did, she had no biological family left, simply floating by in life; just as you were.
You fiddled with the crystal hanging from your neck, thumbing the engraving on the vine “H. Deville” you whispered, sitting on your bed and leaning against the wall. “Just who are you?...who am I for that matter” you muttered to yourself, letting your hands fall and your head flop into your pillow, curling your hands to your chest to hold the necklace close.
“I’m never going to find out who I am” you whispered, feeling a tear roll down your cheek as you fell into a dream-filled sleep of grand parties and a soothing voice in your ear, strong hands holding you close.
-
A week later, you, Grace, and Evie were in the living room, Evie scrolling on her laptop to find a movie while Grace helped herself to some white wine. “Did you ever go out on a date with that bartender guy?” Grace asked, Evie made a gagging noise, sticking her tongue out as you giggled, curling the leather cord of your necklace between your fingers.
“I’m ignoring his texts” Evie muttered, looking back at her laptop screen as she switched over to her email, unable to find anything interesting to watch. Even your cheesy horror movies looked boring. Grace frowned, turning to Evie with a shocked look “why? I thought you said you liked him! Didn’t she (y/n)?”
You nodded, giving Evie a teasing smile as she glared at you for helping Grace mess with her “Yep, she said, and I quote ‘oh he’s cute’~ think I can get his number?’ with a capital c” you said almost proudly, and Evie chuckled a pillow at you, rolling her eyes as you giggled “For someone who doesn’t remember a lick of her past, she’s got our words down pact” Grace laughed, sitting next to Evie as she rolled her eyes and you blew a raspberry at Grace.
“I’m just-not-I can't handle the new York dating scene right now” Evie muttered, sipping at her coffee when her email pinged, Grace agreed with her opinion on the whole dating thing. “it is exhausting” Grace hummed, tilting her head as Evie blinked in surprise at what she found in her email. “What?”
“Yeah, what? You gasped like when you got 500 bucks off that lottery ticket” you asked, repeating Grace’s question as you moved from the love seat to sit on Evie’s other side. “I got a cousin!” Evie proclaimed, leaning back to show you and Grace the screen.
Well, there it was, right on the screen; Evie had a 2nd cousin, Oliver Alexander. “Impossible he’s white as hell” you muttered, laughing as Evie pushed at your shoulder. “What she said, that is the whitest man I’ve ever seen, and he’s British” Grace said with a small laugh, watching as Evie read what Oliver had messaged her.
“He wants to meet up” Evie muttered, licking her lips in thought as Grace choked on her wine “A stranger? On the internet?” Grace said with raised brows, as if the idea was stupid “mm-mm, you’re not doing that” Evie tried to justify it, stuttering on her words as you leaned closer to the laptop, clicking on the ‘family tree’ to see how she was related to this, Oliver.
“He’s family” Grace just gave you a look that said ‘and?’ which made you snort a bit, slapping your hand over your mouth and nose to let Evie go on without making her feel like she was being made fun of; because you both knew how important finding her family was to her.
There was a reason you got along so well, especially after her mom passed away. Evie continued, glancing back at her laptop “And-I don’t have any” Grace hummed, pursing her lips as she looked at Evie, mostly teasing but she didn’t want Evie to walk into something that was only going to get her hurt.
“Oh, so you wanna be catfished? Oh, interesting” Evie let out a small scoff at Grace's playful yet serious words, shrugging a bit as she gestured to Oliver “I mean-look, he’s wearing an ascot. What could he possibly want with my broke ass?”
“Your kidneys?” Grace joked, still kinda serious as you let yourself laugh, Evie rolled her eyes at Grace’s wild guess “That’s probably exactly what this site is, tinder for unassuming organ donors” Evie laughed, shaking her head as she clicked ‘read more’ on Oliver.
“Well, he’s British, they’re all absurdly polite” Evie muttered, pursing her lips as Grace snorted, standing up to move to the love seat. “Yeah cause they’re wracked with colonial guilt! Doesn’t mean you need to mistake that for good manners.” Evie nodded, turning to you; playing with your necklace as you stared off at nothing.
“What do you think I should do?” Evie asked quietly, and Grace leaned forward; because you would know what Evie was going through the best, both of you without families and feeling lost without a map. You hummed, glancing between Oliver and your necklace, before you smiled.
“I think you should meet him, if just to meet him and know you have family. You don’t need to get all-buddy buddy, but-you know” you shrugged, leaning into Evie and resting your cheek on her shoulder “just make sure you meet in a very public place and update us about everything. British or not dude could be dangerous” Evie snorted, patting your head as Grace pointed at you.
“Exactly, if you do go through with this, keep us updated, he’ll make a group chat even.” Evie rolled her eyes again “you keep doin’ that you’re eyes gonna get stuck” Evie stuck her tongue out at grace as she stood to make sure dinner was ready while you leaned forward to check the family tree again, seeing they were related through Evie’s great grandmother Emmaline.
“maybe I should do this, see if I have any family” you muttered and Evie shrugged, playing with her necklace as she glanced between the family tree and Oliver's message.
Finally, she took the laptop from you and clicked the ‘respond to message’ bubble, taking a deep breath before she started to type.
-end of part 1-
yeeeeeeeeeeee im hyped for this, I've been thinking about it since i first saw the invitation~ just-ah~ inspired by Anastasia, Beauty and the beast, nnnnnnnnn...idk my stupid brain XD
idk who wants to read this soooo no taglist yet? this isnt my Harry Hook stuff so no perm taglist...if anyone wants to be tagged just lemme know i guess?...okay byyyyyyyyyeeee
#the invitation#Walter Deville#Evie Jackson#x reader#Walter Deville x reader#Walters original name is Harrison#i can do what i want its a fanfic#ill let him keep the deville#but walter is a dorky ass name#memory loss#immortal reader#evie n reader are besties#happy ending#some angst to come up but its a vampire horror movie of course theres gonna be angst#watch me write walt as Harry when it comes down to it i know i will XD#i do the same with Jeff i just fuckin write all Tommy's as Harry XD#Harry is the blueprint
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Long post! (Discussing Gothic Horror, Der Wolfsjäger, Werewolves, and why I love all of these things) I love Gothic horror, the aesthetic, of ruin, the haunting atmosphere, and the feeling that something old and dangerous and powerful lingers just outside of sight. The biggest aesthetic hallmark of Gothic horror is probably the lone decaying castle, this haunting vestige of the past intruding on our present day idea of normalcy and safety. But there's another aspect of Gothic horror that isn't as prominent that I have an affinity for.
I like the primal side of it. Statues inscribed with symbols no one can read anymore devoured by vines and fallen leaves. I like the beastly and barbaric side of that haunting feeling. That strange hereditary reminder of a time when forests were endless and dark with little refuge for man. Enter the werewolf. I am fascinated by the idea of people, even against their will, being returned to this savage state. I think most humans have an inherent discomfort with the idea that we are animals. We are fragile, we hunger, we are made of soft flesh that can be devoured.
Remembering that we are no more than animals somehow reminds us of a time we didn't exist in. That time when the forests were endless and we were few. It's frightening, it makes us feel small, it takes away our sense of control and safety. It shatters our delusions of power. But there's also something cathartic about completely immersing yourself in the things that make your afraid and uncomfortable. The Gothic werewolf is symbolic of this. The man living among us who has completely submitted to the brutal nature that still exists in all of us.
I say Gothic werewolf as a distinction from other kinds of more sympathetic, palatable, and less horror-centric werewolves. The Gothic werewolf is haunting. He's cunning and cruel. He does not see human life as special or valuable. He never stops being a wolf, even when in the form of a human.
I adore this. It's also one of the things that makes the Werewolves in my writing special. They don't see themselves as humans who become wolves, they see themselves as something completely different. They're characterized by their sickening disdain for civilization. In Matador Gothic when Alfonso asks Rampage to reveal his true fork he rebukes him, telling him that his wolf form *is* his true form. Mondheulers in Der Wolfsjäger wait patiently for the full moon, waiting to kill again, sometimes killing and maiming impulsively even as humans.
Blutschreibers in Der Wolfsjäger have to spend over a decade in the wild as wolves before they gain the ability to transform back into humans. This return to feral barbarism, and the allure of giving into it, is what gives them their flavor. The Blutschreibers are particularly unique, not only in the sense that they are haunted by spirits, but because underneath all of their barbarism and savagery there is a frightening level of intelligence and cunning that we as humans find frightening in something so animalistic.
We see barbarism as beneath our intellect. Something we left behind in the past for more intellectual and sophisticated virtues. Seeing something as intelligent as us, if not more, rip flesh and wield brutal strength is disturbing not only for its physical danger, but in the way it assaults our comforting worldview.
I'm excited for all the neglected and untapped potential for werewolf horror in audio roleplay. I'm writing Der Wolfsjäger with renewed enthusiasm now. Have fun! And remember, if you see a wolf in the wild, he always saw you first.
#werewolves#writing#werewolf fiction#werewolf horror#escaped audios#der wolfsjager#gothic horror#horror writing
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In every universe Jason Peter Todd dies young. It’s a fate sealed across the multiverse. Maybe he could hope that there’s one universe where he doesn’t. aka, Jason, Dick, and Bruce go multiverse hopping, and are not having a fun time. (Ps, when I started writing this fic I hced Jason as Latino, but I don't really believe in that hc anymore, so just a heads up if you don't like that hc)
TRIGGER WARNING -> Hey... I don't think there are any this chapter!
It felt like ice was settling in Jason’s chest. He wasn’t Robin. He was no longer a street kid. He wasn’t Robin. He was no longer a street kid. He wasn’t Robin, he was no longer a street kid, he was safe.
He was supposed to be safe.
Why was he dead?
He was supposed to live. He had a life outside of living to the next day or saving Gotham.
Why did he die?
Why does he keep dying?
He looked to Bruce, whose eyes were rimmed red from the crying he was doing earlier. Then to Dick, who was standing unnaturally still.
“ What did I do?” he wasn’t sure if he shouted it at the top of his lungs or barely even whispered it. “What did I do wrong?”
Dick snapped himself out of his transe, “Jason you didn’t do anything–”
“I had to have done something. I had to have done something so fucked on a cosmic scale.” He pulled at his hair, hard, to stop his eyes from burning, “I keep dying. I keep dying. That Jason had a good life. He was finally safe. He had no reason to die. He had a good life. He was happy. He was beyond loved.” His breath hitched and he knew he couldn’t stop the dam of emotions that were flooding over. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand. Why do I have to die? Why don’t I get a happy ending? Why don’t I deserve one?”
Before he could tell what was going on he was back in his Dad’s arms. One hand at the base of his head and the other rubbing circles into his shoulder. In the way he used. Just like he used to.
“Jay, lad, you listen to me, and you listen to me closely. You haven’t done anything to deserve the fates that have been handed to you. You were a child. One who was forced to grow up too fast, when all you should’ve been allowed to do was live. You deserve to live. And you are living right now.”
He felt Dick cling onto the both of them, “Maybe the universe is cruel. Maybe you had a shitty ending, but it was a shitty ending to your prologue. You got a second chance, and Bruce and I will do everything to make sure you get a happy ending. Because that’s what you deserve.”
And that’s why he let them in, all those years ago. Because they cared . They both really cared. About Jason.
Bruce moved one of his arms so he was also holding Dick, “You’re my boys. My boys. And I’ll always get you two back.”
Jason buried his face into Bruce’s shoulder. He remembers there used to be a time where he’d hug Bruce and barely make it past his ribs. He used to only be able to rest his chin on Bruce’s shoulder if Bruce was kneeling.
Despite how much Jason has grown, he still feels so small. And he’ll let himself feel that way. Because he’s not alone anymore. He has his dad and brother to protect him.
They realized it was mid February of 2017. Meaning this universe’s Jason was 16. So it was most likely another Zombie Jason. So they made the decision to sit the universe out. Except, after a day they were still there. Then two, then they started to get restless. So Dick and Jason went out for a little food run, and they came back with three sacks of oranges and a Dick had gotten a bag of edibles.
They came back to the motel to the sound of the news. And a Dick who was high as balls
Dick ripped open the bag or oranges and squinted at the screen, “Huh, didn’t realize Tim wore yellow pants.”
Jason also looked at the screen. The Robin who was currently on screen, leaped over a sentient vine, wearing Jason’s yellow snow pants, and green combat boots. “That’s not Tim, that’s me.”
“Oh yeah…Tim has his…staff.” Dick took out a bunch of oranges and started juggling them.
Bruce sighed from where he was making adjustments to the beacon design. Though, Jason doesn’t understand why he keeps adjusting it. It’s useless if it’s on paper. “Are you two high right now?”
Dick raised an eyebrow at Bruce, “Come on, Bruce. I’m an adult capable of making my own responsible decisions.”
Jason rolled his eyes, “Come on Bruce, you know I rarely accept pain killers. And this is a Gotham pre- me cleaning up the whole drug trade.”
Bruce looked to Dick, “Edibles?” he nodded, “Give.” Dick dug the bag of gummies from his pocket and handed it to Bruce. He looked from Jason, to Dick, then back to Jason, “I trust you checked if it was clean.”
“It’s literally my job. Been doing it since I was 18.”
Bruce had that face like he wanted to say something, but shrugged and popped a gummy in his mouth.
Batman doing edibles. Now there’s a sight.
They focused back on the screen where Batman and Robin were closing in on Poison Ivy, Robin ran towards Batman, where they locked hands as Robin leaped, and threw a kick to Ivy’s head, knocking her out cold. Jason frowned, “That was like… a six.” Robin looked quite winded by that, which was weird because he knew he should have more energy like that.
The camera panned to Vicky Vale on the screen, “That was the fifth rogue of the month. And it’s not even Valentines. They’re really putting Batman and Robin through the ringer.”
“Oh my god, Bruce,” Dick suddenly stopped juggling the oranges they had bought. “It's the winter of hell.”
“What’s the winter of– oh wait, isn’t it when Bane snaps Bruce’s back like a toothpick?”
“Yes, though, that was because, I’ll admit, I was burnt out by the mass Arkham Asylum breakout, and I refused to ask for help.”
“Don’t worry, Old Man. It was part of your character development.”
The screen panned from Ivy in handcuffs, and Batman talking to Commissioner Gordon, to Robin, pulling his cape over his shoulders and walking over to the Batmobile. His breaths were coming out unnaturally even, meaning he was trying to control how tired he looked. Still he flashed a smile at the camera and sat in the passenger seat.
Bruce set down his pencil, “Robin probably has a test this week.” He must’ve seen Jason’s confused expression, “You used to keep your notes in the Batmobile the week leading up to a test. You would stay in the Batmobile and study while I talked to Commissioner Gordon.”
Dick tossed Jason a peeled orange, “Nerd.”
“Yet, I can still lift more than you, bro.” Jason pulled apart a piece and tossed it in his mouth.
Bruce held out his hand for an orange. Dick grabbed one out of the bag for him, and Bruce started peeling it. “The next attack is in two days, and it’s–”
“Oh! Let me guess. My man, Eddie Nygma. Aka, the Riddler.”
“No, it’s the Joker and the Scarecrow.”
“Huh. I hate both of them. When do they make an appearance?”
“In… two days.”
Dick started munching on his orange, “Damn, we got sent back early.”
Bruce tossed Jason half of the orange he just peeled, “Maybe the force that is pinballing us across the multiverse knows our thoughts and feelings.” He said it in a way that indicated he was joking.
Jason blinked, “Hold up. Bruce, you might be onto something. What were you guys thinking of right before we all got hit with the beam? And be so honest with me right now.”
Dick frowned, “I don’t really remember, just that I had to make sure you were safe.”
“I was thinking about how the machine Black Mask had used was a prototype and had never been used before. I…I thought I was going to lose you again.”
Ok, that’s what Jason had thought, “And how about after the first Jay who died?”
“I was thinking about how small you were. And how you were too young to die.”
Dick nodded, “I was thinking the same thing, but then I think I had a line of thought like ‘if we’d found Jason earlier on the streets, he wouldn’t’ve been that small.’”
Jason grinned, “Ok, so I’m pretty sure us being pinballed around the multiverse has something to do with the Law of Attraction.”
Bruce grunted, “That’s just a placebo–”
Dick hushed him, “Do you have magical swords, Bruce? No. Let our supernatural expert speak.”
“As you know, the Law of Attraction states that thoughts and energy have the power to shape a reality. When we first got hit, Bruce was thinkin’ of me dyin’, so we got thrown into a reality where I died. Then the second reality was a merging of you thinkin’ I was too young to die, and you thinking of findin’ a little Jason on the streets. And at that point, Bruce was trying to figure out a pattern and the only thing his brain could latch onto was–”
“You being dead.”
“Yes! Yes exactly. And we’ve just been spiraling and spiraling and spiraling. And, hm, maybe the reason why this Jason is our first one older than 15 is because in the last one, we thought he would live longer. Ya know?”
Dick hummed, “So you’re saying if we think happy thoughts, this Jason will live?”
“Well, not happy , per say, just not overly pessimistic. Like ‘ Jason will live’ is a great line for manifestations. Obviously, the Law of Attraction isn’t the law of the land, there are certain events that are written in the–” Jason snorted as he suddenly remembered something, “Canon Events. There are Canon Events, but like other details are always changing. That’s why I hate looking into the future. Drives me nuts, bolts and bananas. I bet my canon event is stealing Bruce’s tires.”
“You literally said you were Uncle Ben–”
“Upapapapa,” Jason wagged his finger at Dick, “That sounds like some negative affirmations. Gimme another orange. Doc told me I’ll get scurvy.”
Dick burst out into laughter while Bruce whipped his head to Jason so fast, he was afraid he’d get whiplash, “Jason! You’re not allowed to have citrus!”
“Yes I am.”
“Oh. Ok.” Bruce immediately relaxed, “I could’ve sworn you weren’t though. Something about the Ascorbic acid reducing melanin production.”
“Only if it’s too much. Tis a delicate balance.”
Dick handed Jason another peeled orange, “Don’t get scurvy, bro.”
“Thanks. I can feel it fading as we speak.” Jason chewed on a piece, “Anywho, positive vibes, or else I’ll be dismal.”
“But being dismal isn’t good for good vibes.”
“Exactly.”
That being said, it was hard not to think of everything that could go wrong. Especially knowing that Batman and Robin would be facing the Joker. Especially knowing that in a decent amount of universes they had been to, Jason had been killed by the Joker. Still, they tried. Bruce wrote out affirmations on the little notepad in the motel room, Dick said them outloud, and Jason meditated.
Still, two days later, when they saw Batman and Robin facing the Joker and Scarecrow, it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room.
The Joker immediately looked at Robin, but Jason could see the moment the Joker realized something more . He looked Robin up and down, gaze lingering a bit lower, before making eye contact, and bursting into a fit of giggles, “My, my, Boy Blunder you sure are growing at an alarming rate.”
“Yeah, I’ve been eating my vegetables. I heard carrots help give your skin a natural glow. Did’ja not eat enough ‘a those growing up? You’re looking a bit pasty.” For all his talk, Robin pulled his cape around him.
Batman stepped in between the two of them. “Robin, do you have your gasmask on you?”
Robin responded by grabbing it out of his utility belt, “I’ll get Crane.” He pulled out his grapple, and he swung away.
“Now, Batsy, I didn’t mean it that way–” Batman started pummeling the Joker with his fists.
…That doesn’t make sense. The Joker is a lot of horrible vile things, but a pedophile isn’t one of them. Otherwise Jason would’ve killed him point blank years ago.
Then the screen split in half to show Robin running and leaping to grab the bottom rung of a fire escape and kicking Crane into a pile of trash. Crane started to sit up, but Robin took a glass bottle, flipped it in his hands once, and smashed it into Crane’s noggin.
Really, Crane is easy to defeat if you don’t breathe in his fear toxins. That’s why he loves his helmet. Built in filters. One punch, and Crane is down for the count.
While Batman continued to punch the living daylights out of the Joker, Robin made quick work of cuffing Crane. Then he leaned against the bricks panting.
The earlier gas mask models were hard to breathe in. Adding the cold low pressure winter air made it nearly impossible to breathe while fighting.
Batman seemed to be done pounding the Joker’s head in. Mainly because Commissioner Gordon had come by, thrown a kick at the piece of garbage, and started cuffing the man
Robin rolled his shoulders and shook out his leg before picking up Crane from where he was laying, and dragging him out of the Alley. Eventually, Batman came, lifted Crane into a fireman’s carry and nodded at Robin.
To anyone else, the nod would’ve seemed cold and dismissive, but Jason knew that specific nod meant you can relax now.
Robin ripped off his gas mask, and grappled away.
Jason grabbed a pair of gloves, his jacket, and the red beanie they’d got, “I’m going to my gargoyle.”
Jason knew he would arrive at the gargoyle after Robin, but what he didn’t expect was to catch Robin sound asleep in the corner of the roof. He wasn’t even sitting under Garry, just in the corner with his cape pulled around him.
Seemed more like a Tim thing to pass out on a roof, but Jason was also a pretty light sleeper… but Robin should’ve heard him coming up the fire escape. Jason made sure to be a bit louder on his way up.
Was he–
No, he couldn’t be. Bruce built the winter suit with warmers built in so he wouldn’t freeze. And he could see Robin’s breaths puff up in the cold air. He was probably just really tired.
Really tired.
Jason moved to sit next to Gary, but made sure he could still keep an eye on their surroundings. Though, if he hadn’t been paying attention, and if he didn’t see it coming a mile away, he wouldn’t’ve spotten Batman.
He sent a little wave towards the shadow, and signed out “ One Bad Night A-R-T. Are you gonna make me sing the song?”
Batman came out of the shadows, “Jason?”
That caused Robin to pick out his head in a panic, but then he saw Batman, blinked blearily, and then rested his head back on his knees, falling back asleep.
Jason made a concerned face towards Robin as Batman moved to sit next to Jason.
“He was up last night studying for an APUSH test. I told him to take a break tonight, but–-” Batman shrugged, “You know you.” He looked to Robin with a look that was a mix between fond and concerned, before looking back to Jason, “Report.”
Jason rolled his eyes. Some things about Bruce never changed across realities, “Black Mask hit us with a teleportation prototype which caused us to be pinballed around the multiverse.” He said in a low voice, so he wouldn’t wake up Robin, “We’ve been to…close to thirty universes, the longest we’ve been in one singular reality was around three days, the shortest was close to 10 minutes, I think. Our Bruce can tell you the exact stuff. We’re certain that our allies are working on bringing us home, but because we keep moving around…”
“You think they can’t pinpoint your location.”
Jason nodded.
“Is it just you and your Bruce?”
“Dick too.”
Batman nodded, “We can all head to the cave right now, if you would like?”
Jason glanced at Robin, and how the only reason he was asleep right now was pure exhaustion and the feeling of safety. Especially after the Joker’s sexual harassment, it was surprising that Robin even fell asleep. strangers coming to his home, he definitely wouldn’t be able to properly rest, even though he clearly needed it.
“We’ll swing by… tomorrow evening? That way you can warn Alfred. If we don’t show, chances are we got thrown into a different reality.”
Batman gave him a barely there smile, “I’ll try not to take it too personally.”
So there they were, standing in front of the manor gates, fighting over who would ring the doorbell.
Dick pushed Jason forwards, “Jason, you’re the one who was invited, you ring it.”
Jason stepped behind Bruce, “You’re the one who’s better with people.”
“You literally talked to this Bruce yesterday.”
“You’ve literally talked to any other version of Bruce. Just ring the buzzer.”
“You do it!”
Bruce rolled his eyes, and hit the buzzer, “I’m sure you’ve been watching them bicker.”
The gates opened, as the automated voice of Alfred patched through, “Yes, it is quite amusing to see they never truly grow out of it.”
Dick scoffed, “Once an annoying younger brother, always an annoying younger brother.”
Just for that, Jason flicked Dick’s cheek, with a satisfying pip sound. Dick looked like he was about to smack Jason in retaliation, but Alfred was standing at the front door with a very stern look on his face.
Alfred led them into the study room where a younger Bruce and Jay were both waiting for them.
Hm, this was weird. He never saw Bruce at this point in time. Though, this Bruce didn’t look much different from the other Bruces they’ve been seeing across realities. Jay on the other hand… he looked different.
He was taller than most of the Jasons they had met. Probably around 5’5”. And his features were more mature. It was losing the roundness he’d gained during his years living in the manor. The spots of vitiligo across his face stood out in the way they usually did during the summer, meaning his completion was probably deeper. And his eyes– he didn’t have central heterochromia like Sheila. They were warm and brown. Just like Mami’s.
Alternate reality Bruce stood up and shook Bruce and Dick’s hands, oddly, this was the most formal meeting with their alternate reality selves. “Hello, welcome to our reality. What’s the ‘low down ’?”
Jay turned to Jason, Dick and made a ‘ this man is so embarrassing’ face. Dick held back a laugh as alternate reality Bruce opened the entrance to the Cave, and regular Bruce started filling him in. Basically the stuff Jason told him last night, only in more detail. Like down to the minute they were in each reality, and… well, he didn’t tell him about the multiple Jason’s dying part, but that was probably because Bruce was trying hard with the positive affirmations.
Then he brought out the blueprints for the beacon, and Jay took one look at it and smacked his head, and rushed towards the stairs, “I have a physics project. I swear, if one more maniac shows up this week, I’m gonna lose it.”
Younger Bruce looked at Jay with a smirk, “Then I suppose it’s a good thing it’s Saturday, huh?”
Jay fixed him with a deadpan stare, “Your Dad-jokes aren’t nearly as funny as you think they are.”
Bruce didn’t seem hurt by the comment, but it did seem to soften him, with a face that looked more… vulnerable, “If you need to take a break–”
“No. I’m good. We catch Two-Face and then I’m stayin’ in bed the entirety of break.”
Bruce sucked a breath through his teeth, playfully, “If those are your plans, I guess I’ll have to cancel those college tours. Are you planning on bedrotting through rehearsal too?”
“You know what I meant.” Then Jay continued up the stairs while singing ‘Those magic changes’ from Grease.
Jason grinned, “I actually love this reality. It’s the best one we’ve been to, by far .”
Younger Bruce gave him an amused look, “I’m glad you like it. May I ask why all the other realities were not so great?”
“Hmm… No. We’re trying to keep a positive mindset here, and thinking about all the other realities would… make us pretty despondent.”
Younger Bruce blinked towards Older Bruce, who grunted, “They need time to process what we have seen in other realities. We will tell you, eventually.”
“Hrg.” He could see the push and pull between Batman’s skepticism and Bruce’s willingness to help people behind his eyes, “What can you tell me?”
“I faced a similar situation where there was a mass Arkham breakout, though it was all orchestrated by Eduardo Dorrance, otherwise known as Bane. He is aware of our identities and after we put Two-Face back in Arkham, he breaks into the manor to catch us off guard.”
And just like that, younger Bruce was in Batman mode and finding all the information he could on Bane.
“Bruce, Bane’s whole thing was breaking you down emotionally and mentally, so he could break you physically.” Dick placed a hand on his shoulder, “Yes, you do need to capture Two-Face, but you also need to take a break, otherwise he will break you.”
Bruce continued to search through the Batcomputer, “How can you say that when he knows who I am? Just by knowing, that puts all of us at risk. What if he targets the Dick and the Titans, or Jason’s school? I need to be prepared–”
“You can prepare yourself with as much information as you can, but without proper rest, you can never truly be prepared.”
Both Dick and Jason turned to look at Old Man Bruce, cus, yeah Bruce was wise when he decided to actually communicate, but that edged on the hypocritical side.
Old Man Bruce didn’t pay attention to them gawking, “I could also give you all the information I know about Bane, but only if you rest. It would take less time that way.”
Younger Bruce stopped typing, “...Fine. But it’s only because I know Alfred is going to be done with dinner soon and I don’t want to keep him waiting.”
“No patrolling tonight. Two-Face doesn’t show up for another two days. You are taking the weekend off. No Batman or Batman adjacent work.”
“Are… are you benching me right now?”
Older Bruce gave him the look ™ meaning he wasn’t going to be accepting any nonsense from younger Bruce. Honestly, it was kinda weird. Most of the other Bruces, Bruce had spoken to in a strictly professional manner. He never… Daded them.
Ok, it was really weird.
Younger Bruce seemed to realize it was a losing battle, and turned off the Batcomputer, “Ok then, though I expect all the information you know about Bane to be on there by Monday.”
So now that they had the whole positive/negative affirmations thing going, they had a realization. They were probably being tethered to each reality by the Jason of said universe. So as long as this Jason stayed alive, they would stay in this universe.
And so far this Jason was doing a better job than Jason had, so…
The kid was 16 and had a fully functioning brain. He was doing things he loved like school and the musical. He was living, and making Robin work. Jason was happy for him. He was happy for Bruce who was gushing about how well Jay did during the fall play, and some of the volunteer work he was doing on top of that and–
This could’ve been his life.
So the first chance he got, he ran to hide. Technically, it wasn’t hiding, because the library was the first place anyone would think to look for him, but it got him alone. It gave him space to breathe.
And maybe he was a masochist for reading ‘The Time Machine’ by H.G Wells, but you can’t be in a family of vigilantes without being the slightest bit masochistic.
He was about halfway through when Jay snuck in with a binder and pencil in his hands and sat on the floor next to the couch Jason was on, so he was blocked from view of the Library door.
Not five minutes later Dick walked in, eyes searching around the room, “Have you seen Jason?”
Now, Jason wasn’t an idiot, and he knew that Jay was probably hiding because he also needed a breather. “What, tryna replace me?”
“What? No. I just–”
“That was cruel of me to say.” He knew the words would hurt Dick, and adding venom to them would just be salt on a scab that had been picked at, “He’s probably doing homework or something.”
Dick frowned, like he was debating which conversation to continue, and then he sighed, “That’s what he was doing when I last checked, but now I can’t find him.”
“Then he’s probably with Alfred. There’s really only three places in the manor he’d be.” He did also have a real hiding spot, but Jay seemed like he needed to do work, and that hiding spot was small and dark, and only for when he felt like everything was too big and too much.
“I already checked.”
Jason squared Dick with a look, “Then maybe, you’re being too hover-y and he wants some space.”
Dick cringed at himself, “You’re probably right.” Then he started walking closer to the couch.
“What are you doing?”
“Hanging out with you?” he went to sit on the couch, but Jason swatted him with the book.
“No. you’re not. Go away. Find ways to entertain yourself.”
“What if we dye your white streak red?”
Jason groaned, “Go away, Richard . I’ve spent the last week with you and Bruce. Give me some me time.”
“No.” Dick definitely meant that sarcastically, because he stood up to leave, but then he paused at the door, “You know you’ll always be my little brother, right? Nothing changes that. Not death, or moral differences– nothing.”
“I can’t be your little brother, because I’m taller–”
“Oh, fuck off–”
“--But you'll always be my big brother too.” Then Jason realized that they were getting into super sappy territory so he tacked on, “In case the passing out on you didn’t get that through your thick skull.”
And just like that Dick’s soft big brother act, that he usually reserves for Damian, disappeared, “I swear, if I ever see you using those magical–”
“Bye!”
“--Soul sucking–”
“Bye!”
“--Swords, I will–”
“Bye, bye, bye, bye, bye!” Jason rushed to shut the door, “Love ya too.”
Jay peeked over the couch, then slowly stood up then collapsed in the papasan chair, heaving out a sigh of relief, “And that’s supposed to be the same man who begs Bruce to give him space every time he visits?”
“I, honest to god, have no clue how that happened.” Jason sat back down on the couch.
Jay started opening up the binder in his hand, and then glanced at Jason, “Magical soul suckin' swords?”
“They’re not as bad as they sound.”
“Can I… see them?”
“No.”
They sat in silence, Jay finishing up his project and Jason continued reading until Jay definitely finished and started to open and close his mouth like he was debating asking a question.
Jason set his book down and settled deeper into the couch, “Are ya gonna continue to catch flies with your mouth or are ya gonna ask?”
“Hold up, I'm debatin' if I should ask the harder questions first or the easy ones.”
Jason drummed his fingers on his knee, “Start with the easy ones. I might not be allowed to answer the harder ones.” Jay frowned, so Jason added, “By Bruce. 'Cause he’s a control freak.”
“Naturally.” Jay shifted so he was mirroring Jason’s body language, “Why are your eyes blue?”
Jason gave him a ‘Use your brain’ look, because, really?
“Well, I know it’s because of the Multiverse and not everything’s gonna be the same, but there are certain things that have to stay the same for us to be Jason , right? So… if you’re more white passing, but ya still look like Papi, then–”
“Yeah, we have different birth moms. Though, Catherine did raise me.”
“Were ya also on the streets?”
Jason nodded, “And boostin' the tires off of Bruce’s car seems to be a multiversal constant.”
Jay grinned, “It’s just iconic behavior, as Eddie would put it.” Then he gestured to the front of his hair, “Vitiligo?”
“Dick still doesn’t have a clue. I’m 90% sure he thinks it’s the magical swords.”
“Son of the world's greatest detective and he still can’t figure it out.”
Jason rolled his eyes, “The last reality we went to, it was one where none of us were heroes, and that Jason said he had vitiligo, and ya wanna know what Dick said? He said ‘I guess the white streak is also a universal constant. Even if the reason isn’t magic in this one.’ ”
Jay blinked, “You’re pullin' my leg.”
“No, I’m not! He genuinely believes the white streak is from magic. I guess an autoimmune disease isn’t cool enough for him.”
“Yo, I think all the hair dye has been damaging my hair. They don’t curl the same way as the rest of my hair.” Jay tugged at one of his little loopies. “What about the whole secret identity thing?”
“Helmet. I lost it a couple realities ago, though. Also, yeah, ever since I stopped dyin' it, it’s been growin' back curlier.”
“College?”
“Next question.”
A bunch of different emotions flashed across Jay’s face, “What?”
“Next question.”
“No.” Jay crossed his arms, “You can’t be me if you didn’t want to go to college.”
“Who says I didn’t?” Jason leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, “Next question.”
Jay’s voice came out much smaller, “...Graduation?”
He leaned back again, “You get three more questions.”
“Your universe sucks, you know.”
Jason barked out a laugh, “Kid, this isn’t even the tip of the iceberg.”
Jay seemed to think carefully about what he was about to ask next, “Garzonas?”
“Did that animal die? Yes. Did I push him? No. Did Bruce know that until recently? Also no. I’m pretty sure.”
Jay’s eyes narrowed, “Did… Did your Bruce kick you out?”
Jason shook his head, “Just… I guess I was on probation or something, and when I proved to be ‘too reckless’, he fired me from being Robin. Then I ran away…” And then he died, “How’d it happen with you?”
“He also fired me from Robin for a bit. I… I really thought Bruce would kick me out. I mean, I wasn’t Robin at the time, and what use was I to Bruce if I wasn’t his partner? Then Dick came back from space, and asked why he hadn’t seen Robin in any of the news he’d been catching up on, and I told him. Then he rushed straight to the manor and I’m sure all of Gotham could hear Dick knock some sense into him. Turns out, Bruce didn’t even realize that I thought that being Robin was the only thing that tied me to the manor, and I didn’t really realize how much Bruce cares.” Jay looked Jason in the eyes and then groaned, “You did not just come to that realization, did you? No, that was a hypothetical question, not a real one. You are a sad little man.” He leaned back and looked at the ceiling, “Is that why your Bruce keeps looking at me funny? Cus you ran away at my age? Instead of just… talkin' with him? Well, I’m assumin' you talk now, because you’re on a multiversal adventure with him, but– Sufferin’ succotash, I’m still caught up on the college thing. Why not just get a GED and go? Bruce’ll probably still pay for you.”
Jason sighed and ran a hand over “That was more than five questions. Short answer is I trusted someone I shouldn’t have.”
“That’s ominous and dramatic. The only reason I can think of why you wouldn’t be able to go is if you just… no longer had an ID or something–" Jason went ramrod straight because how in tarnation do you guess that? Jay’s eyes widened, “Did you have to go into witness protection? Don’t they give you a new life if you do? Why not just ask the government if you can go to college– actually, forget I asked that. The government sucks, but–”
“I’m legally dead.”
“Heh?”
“Like, my heart stopped. For six months. I have a grave and everything.”
Jay blinked a couple times and then snorted, “Ok, Jesus.”
Jason let his entire face drop. Devoid of any emotions. He knows it’s macabre, because there were still parts of death that clung to him like gorilla glue.
Maybe the rest of his siblings have died before. Though it was different with them. They died for minutes. Jason was dead for months. And sure, so was Damian, but he was brought back on purpose. Jason was brought back by mistake.
Talia was the first person to see him disassociate, and she said she thought he was reverting back to his state of comatose. The first time Cass saw, it freaked her into a panic attack. She said his emotions, body, mind– they all read as dead . And everyone, save Damian, looked pale. Like they were looking at a ghost.
He snapped his attention back to Jay, whose face was ashen. “Your universe sucks.” he pulled one of his knees to his chest and rested his chin on it. He could tell Jay had a hand on the cross that rested on his sternum, “If you died… was there an afterlife?”
“I don’t remember.” That was a lie. There was a recurring dream that he had. One where he was swinging over a green field that seemed to span miles and miles and miles. It was one of those dreams he never wanted to wake up from. One of those dreams where he felt nothing but peace. He felt at peace.
A part of him wants to believe that dream was about him, flying over Heaven alongside the angels, but he knows he couldn’t have gone to heaven. He couldn’t have, because he came back as nothing but a vengeful spirit.
There was a bone deep exhaustion settling in Jay’s bones. He knew it was because he was overworked, and overtired. Homework, projects, studying for tests, rehearsals– he would’ve been fine with just those. In fact, he would’ve been thriving with just those.
Ever since his conversation with Bruce, he knew that if he took a break from being Robin, or even full on quit, he would still have a place with Bruce and Alfred. In fact, he has taken a couple breaks from Robin, and he thinks he finally knows what safety– no, peace means. It didn’t feel like the rug was going to be pulled out from under him. He finally felt like he was on solid ground.
Being Robin wasn’t exhausting him. Not when he knew he was allowed to take a break.
Being bombarded with rogues every night, that was the problem. Because that meant he couldn’t take a break. Jay knew Bruce could handle the drug dealers and the pimps, but the rogues were the worst of the worst. Yeah, they had their problems, but they weren’t afraid of hurting people in creative ways.
Robin’s supposed to have Batman’s back. He could deal with two hours of sleep, or the incessant throb in his knee. But if he took a break, and Batman got hurt because Robin wasn’t there to watch his six– he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t deal with losing another Dad to Two-Face.
He finished taping his knee, and pulled down the leg of his yellow snow pants.
Time to steal a penny or something
The next couple days passed very awkwardly, because it was quite a -ha- bomb that Jason dropped on Jay, one he immediately regretted after five minutes. Who dumps their trauma all over a 16 year old. ( He did it to Tim, but that was kinda different. They were having a sibling bonding moment.) Though, he doesn’t think he told Bruce. He feels like younger Bruce would have acted differently if he did know.
Currently, Jay was at rehearsal, and Jason was in the kitchen with Dick and Alfred making scones. Then the security alarm went off.
Bane.
They had a plan. Older Bruce would stay in the Batcave, while Younger Bruce would lure him down there. Once there, Bruce would take out Bane’s venom pack, giving Bane a major case of withdrawal. Jason and Dick would remain out of sight, but they were allowed to jump in if things went wrong.
They had a plan.
Still it didn’t stop Jason from wanting to pummel Bane’s face as soon as he knocked Alfred into the Grandfather Clock.
He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive.
Jason almost didn’t pay attention to the conversation Bruce and Bane were having.
“You’d kill just to rule this city? Just for–”
“I’d kill for anything. I’d kill to silence a grating voice. To darken the light in eyes that dared look at me.”
“Then while you revel in it, Bane, I’m sick of death, sick of the blood, the chaos, and horror you’ve brought to Gotham– and right into my home.”
The alarm to the gate went off, but it wasn’t the intruder alarm.
Bane tilted his head, “Two birds, one stone.”
Bane started walking towards the garage, however, Batman maneuvered in front of him, “You hurt my father, I will not let you hurt my son.”
And then Batman went ham. The only problem was, Batman was now trying to keep Bane away from the garage, rather than lure him to the Batcave.
Dick lightly tapped Jason’s shoulder, and signed, ‘ Alfred’s stache.’
Jason blinked, and made a finger gun with his hand, along with a baffled face.
Dick nodded, “Better than me, hit the pack. Not head. Faith.”
“This Bruce is gonna hate me so much.” Still, he crept towards the pantry, where Alfred hid a handgun in the big tubberware of dry black beans. Then he grabbed the cartridge of bullets that was sealed inside the bottom of an olive oil tin.
Everyone except for Bruce knew they were there. Along with the ones hidden in the stairs, and the one in the couch of the study. They were all handguns, and Jason knew Alfred preferred and used shotguns, so there were definitely more, but they would remain forever hidden.
He stuck to the shadows of the manor’s corners, creeping his way to the spiral staircase near the garage entrance.
A minute later the door opened, Jay carrying his backpack.
Jason tapped out, I-N-T-R-U-D-E-R G-O T-O C-A-R, in morse code against the railing. As if on cue, there was a clatter that sounded like a bunch of hangars being knocked over.
Jay looked in the general direction of when Jason was hidden, and nodded, quietly opening the door and slinking out.
Almost immediately, Batman got thrown into the wall perpendicular to the door, but Batman springboarded off of it and punched Bane in the gut. Except it barely phased him, “Bane, this fight is between you and me.”
Jason lined up the handgun with the venom pack, and turned the safety off.
One clean shot.
“This fight isn’t between you and me.” Bane grabbed Batman’s arm and slammed him into the floor, “This fight is between me, and anyone who gets in my way. If the butler had fought back anymore, I might’ve just had to kill him.”
Jason knew his aim started to drift. One bullet, straight through Bane’s temple. He kills Bane now, Bane will never kill Alfred in this universe. Alfred can stay immortal.
Straight through the temple.
Jason’s pointer finger curled around the trigger.
A wrench hit Bane in the nose, “That was supposed to be your welcome gift. Sorry it’s second hand. I wasn’t aware we were having guest.” Jay came back into view with a tire iron in hand, “Hi, Batman, sorry I couldn’t be more courteous. If I had known you were visiting, I would’ve come home sooner.”
“Robin, he knows.”
“ Pulchritudinous.” Jay swung the tire iron, in a way that was very reminiscent of the way Dick swung his christmas, slid under Bane and wacked him in the balls with the tire iron.
Bane didn’t even flinch. Instead, he grabbed the tire iron, and bent it in half, “That’s what I’m gonna do to your dad. First, though, I’m gonna make sure you have a good seat.” He swatted Jay away with the bent iron, then fixed Jay so that he was properly sitting up.
Jason glanced from Bane, to Batman, to Jay, who was clutching his stomach, eyes wide in horror as Bane moved back towards Batman.
Jason shifted his aim once more, letting out a breath as his finger tightened around the trigger. As his arm took the recoil of the firearm. As the venom pack burst into an explosion of green goop.
Because he couldn’t kill him. Not in front of Jay, who might eventually learn that the only Jason who has survived came back merciless and inhumane.
Immediately, Dick came flying in with a kick to Bane’s face, pummeling him with attacks as the lack of venom caused Bane to go into immediate withdrawal, only stopping when Bane was knocked out.
Jason slipped out of the shadows of the staircase, flicked the safety back on, and started to disassemble the gun, just as Old Man Bruce walked in supporting Alfred,
Jason handed the disassembled pieces of the gun to Alfred, “I shot the hell outta that guy, huh.”
Dick huffed a laugh, and Jay looked a little confused from where he was propped up by, “Isn’t that from a video game? The one with the Zombies? Tim and Ives play it sometimes.”
“It’s a meme in our universe.” Dick held out a hand for younger Bruce, “Still comes from the video game though.”
Younger Bruce accepted the hand, and started pulling himself from the floor, “Jason, are you hurt?”
Jay shook his head, “I’m good.'' Then he tried to get up, and winced, “Maybe a coupla bruised ribs. Nothin’ too bad.”
Older Bruce shifted Alfred’s weight towards Jason, and went to carefully help Jay up, “Bruised or broken?”
Jay opened his mouth like he was about to let out a snarky reply, but paused when he looked at Bruce’s face. Then he took a slow breath–it wasn’t deep, but it was slow, “My lungs feel fine. If that’s what you’re asking. So if they are broken, it’s probably just a fracture.” Jay placed his hand on top of Bruce’s. So Bruce could subtly feel for a pulse, “I’ll be ok.”
Younger Bruce peeled off his cowl and limped over to Jay, planting a kiss on his head. “Ok.” Then he turned to Jason, “Since when have you known to shoot?”
Jason shared a look with Alfred, and then looked to Jay, “Did this ignoramus send you to Ma Gunn’s School for Crime, too?”
Jay snickered and then winced, “Don’t make me laugh, it hurts. World’s greatest detective here.”
“What’s next, you know how to make poisons and assemble bombs?”
Jason gave him a bemused smirk, “Yes. I do.”
Bruce looked like he was about to say something when Jay’s phone began to ring. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and grinned at Dick, “I think your big brother instincts are goin’ off.”
Dick frowned, but then his eyes widened, and he buried his face in his hands, “That’s not why…”
Jay picked up, and there was the Facetime sound, “You better start shopping for a Tux, because Kori and I are going to be needing a ring bearer.”
Jason felt his jaw drop to the floor as he whipped his head towards his brother Dick, whose face was still buried, but his ears were red in embarrassment.
How did Jason never know that Dick and Kori were engaged? And he was friends with Kori. And Roy. Hell, Tim could’ve told him. Or Bruce. They’re all apostates.
Alfred seemed to be the first one to recover, “Congratulations, my boy!”
“Thanks, Alfie!”
“You asked Kori to marry you?” Jay seemed just as surprised as Jason was, “I owe Donna so much money.”
“That you do!” Donna shouted from the background.
Younger Dick laughed, “You know what, I’m too happy to be annoyed you two bet on my love life”
Jay was grinning from ear to ear, “Tis the best form of entertainment.” If it was possible, Jay’s smile turned even bigger, “Before you know it, I’ll be an uncle.”
Younger Bruce grunted. Which Jason translated to ‘ I'm not ready to be a grandfather yet,’ but then he tacked on, “I’m proud of you, Chum.”
“Thanks Bru– Holy shit, what happened to you?”
“February.” Bruce didn’t care to elaborate.
“Right, there was a massive Arkham break. Are you guys good over there?”
“That was our last Rogue. And this Robin is making like its namesake and taking a vacation ‘till spring.” He paused, “I should probably tell Spoiler.”
After Bane, things were pretty quiet. And with said quiet, and the fact that they still haven’t been thrown into a new reality for an entire week (new record! yey!) they were finally able to start on a prototype for the beacon.
Though it was mainly Bruce, because he’s a control freak. Other Bruce was Batman-ing even though he had a shattered arm and sprained ankle from Bane. Alfred was resting, and the only reason for that was because Dick and Jason promised to help Other Bruce if he needed it.
And Jay put Robin to the side just like he said he would, focusing on school and the SATs and the musical. Like a normal teenager, doing normal teenage things.
Also, apparently Tim and Ives were in Crew for the musical, and that's how Jay knew them. Small world. Or Tim’s stalker tendencies were a lot higher than Jason assumed.
Dick and Jason just finished a round of sparring when Jay came down, backpack in hand. He sat down at the table across from Bruce and pulled out a spiral notebook, a note packet, along with a textbook, and a red, a blue, and a black colored pen, plus a highlighter.
“No way. You were that kid?”
Jay looked up and frowned at Dick, “What D'ya mean?”
“The type who always had perfectly aesthetic notes in class.”
“No.” Jay shook his head “My class notes are usually written in pencil and looked like chicken scratch.” He held up what was written in his notebook, “I’m studying for a physiology test I have friday. Black’s the normal stuff that I remember, Red’s the stuff I don’t, or super important things, and I use the blue and the highlighter to put little annotations of my notes in the margins.”
Old Man Bruce looked up, “Jason uses that method to write up mission reports. You know that, Dick.”
“I guess I didn’t expect it to come from a studying method.”
Jay just shrugged and went to flip through the textbook, and his notepacket. Jason didn’t miss the fond look Bruce had on his face.
Dick and Jason started up another round.
For a bit the only sounds in the cave were Jason and Dick’s feet scuffing across the floor, and the slight clicks of Bruce tinkering.
And then, “Your Bruce mentioned something about college tours.”
Jason faltered in his step, and Dick landed a kick to his gut. Jason grabbed the leg and pulled, but Dick twisted out of his grip and landed on his feet. They started circling each other again.
Jay glanced up from his notes and grinned, “Yeah, over break, we’re gonna visit Rutgers, Montclair, and Princeton, and then over April break, I’m going up to New York to visit the Titans and Dick, Donna and I are gonna check out NYU, and Columbia. Over summer break we were planning on visiting the UCs, Midwestern and more Ivys, but I have my eyes on Columbia, and I will get in.”
Jason attempted to sweep Dick’s feet, but he jumped and called out, “Nerd!”
Jay turned towards them and stuck out his tongue, “Bold words for a dropout.”
Dick kicked the back of Jason’s knee, causing them to buckle, but he dropped into a roll.
Bruce hummed, “I thought you said you wanted to go to Princeton or NYU?”
Jay set his pen down and gave Bruce his full undivided attention, “Well, I do, and I’d still ecstatic if I got into them, but I’ve been thinking more about what I want to be when I grow up, not just what I want to do . And I don’t see myself being someone who wears a cape and fights crime forever , ya know? I think I’m starting to… outgrow the whole ‘fighting crime’ thing, but I still want to help people. And Columbia has a good Lit and Bio program, so I think it’ll be a good place for me.”
Jason completely stopped and turned towards Jay, “You wanna be a doct–AACk!” Jason turned to glare at Dick who just kicked him in the jaw.
“Yup! Just like Leslie and Grandpa Thomas. I’m thinking of being an ER specialist, or family medicine, but time might change that.”
Bruce’s eyes started to shine, and what could only be a look of pride engulfed his face.
This… this was a very cruel type of torture. Obviously he was proud of Jay too. The kid was living . He was older than any other Jason they had met. Bruce’s pride over the life Jason could’ve had, should be engulfing him like a hug. Instead it was wrapping around him like a boa constrictor.
He took a deep breath, “I’m gonna go take a shower and make some tea. Any of you want some?”
Dick lobbed a towel at him, “Would you hit me if I asked for hot cocoa?”
Jason snapped the towel at him, “I’ll smack you either way.”
“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” Jay picked up his pen again.
Jason ruffled his hair, not waiting for Bruce to say what he wanted, and headed upstairs.
Jay waited to hear the door to the bathroom close. He knew Dick was farther off somewhere, but he would be out of earshot, “Why haven’t you legally revived him yet?”
Bruce immediately snapped his gaze back to Jay, “How do you know about that?”
“You’re not the only detective, remember?” He wasn’t going to tell Bruce about his conversation he had with Jason the other day. That would be rude. “I’m just saying, if you did, he’d probably choose a similar path as I have. Eventually.” It did take Jay a while to realize Robin wasn’t something he wanted forever. It’s been something on the fence about him since his Bruce made him take a break in April. If the vigilante life really was worth it, or if it hurt him too much just to help other people.
Bruce hummed, “He’s never asked. I don’t want to over step.”
He looked to the ceiling of the batcave, “Your emotional incompetence hinders your ability to see what is in plain sight.” Jay leveled Bruce with a look, “Sure, I’ll tell it to you straight, but when have you ever known me to ask you for anything?”
Bruce tilted his head in a way that said there was that one time…
Whatever that means, “I mean, I could be wrong. That Jason has a half a decade of experience and trauma on me. He could be a completely different person because of it. But there’s certain things that have to have stayed somewhat the same, and I feel like Jason's… kinda like me from about a year ago. He’s expecting the rug to be pulled out from underneath him. He doesn’t know where he stands with you, because you won’t tell him explicitly. I’m not like Dick. If– aw snickerdoodles, I’m about to tell you all my secrets. If I seem angry about something, I’m probably scared.” He’s honestly surprised Mr. World’s Greatest Detective hasn’t figured that out yet.
He could see the pieces fall into place in Bruce’s mind.
“I know this is going to be a completely foreign idea to you, but what if… you talked to him. With words. Not immediately, because he’ll figure out I had to hold your hand to get you to cross that street, but eventually. When the time is right.”
“How will I know when that is? Or if I’ll say the right things?”
Jay raised his eyebrow, “You’re talking about a cure to your emotional constipation? Turn off the logical side of your brain and just talk. Mean what you say and all that good stuff.”
Being dead is stupid .
Sure, Jason has numerous fake IDs for various things, and he could get a GED using one of them, and then go to whatever college he wanted to. But he didn’t want to go to college as ‘Peter Thomas’ or ‘Jason Willis’ or ‘Todd Jackson’. He wanted an education.
Jason Peter Todd-Wayne.
That’s the name we wanted on the diploma. Except Jason Peter Todd-Wayne no longer existed. So he couldn’t get a highschool diploma, or enroll in college, or go to med-school, or become a doctor.
And he’s beyond happy for Jay. He really really is, but envy and jealousy are fickle things that have seemed to consume Jason post-mortum.
He’s jealous of Dick who will always know Bruce like the back of his hand. Who doesn’t even have to look at Bruce to know when something’s wrong. He’s jealous of Tim who seemed to have snuck his way into Bruce’s life. Who will always somehow pick him up, while Jason seems to knock him down whenever they’re in the same room. He’s jealous of Cass. Because she will always be perfect in Bruce’s eyes, and Jason is the polar opposite from her. Meaning, to Bruce, Jason can only be the blood staining the walls of his house made out of gold.
He’s envious of Jay who still has it all. He still has his life. He still has the magic of Robin that
never seemed to leave any of his siblings. The magic that decided to abandon Jason.
It doesn’t make any sense.
It’s not fair.
He’s not the only one who has died, so why is he the only one who lost everything and can’t get it all back.
He can’t get his old life back.
He’ll never be able to be that kid who was happy to finally have a home. The one who was overjoyed to be able to learn again, and barely let himself think about the future because if he thought about it for too long, the insecure part of his brain would tell him ‘this isn’t forever.’
But it could’ve been.
If he didn’t die.
He would’ve always had a home in the manor instead of being treated like an intruder every time he visited if he didn’t die. He could’ve had a family that welcomed him with open arms instead of a guard that’s always up
He should’ve never gone to– The Joker should’ve never– He should’ve never been– He should’ve never met–
He’s not supposed to be there anymore. He doesn’t fit anywhere anymore. He can blame everyone, he can blame himself, but at the end of the day it doesn’t change anything .
He would never be able to make Bruce proud because the Jason Peter Todd-Wayne who could’ve done that was dead. Or forever stuck in a warehouse watching an unphased face smoke a cigarette while his brain was being bashed in with a crowbar.
‘Could’ve beens’ suck.
He poured some milk in a pot on the stove, and some hot water in a kettle, then moved onto chopping chocolate. Then he grabbed Dick’s Superman mug, Jay’s Wonder Woman mug, and two china cups.
He debated only taking one cup and not making some for Bruce, but then realized that would be petty and Bruce wasn’t being intentionally cruel by being proud of a different version of him talking about college and dreams.
If anything, it was kinda sad.
Just like it was sad that Jason still knew that Dick liked his hot chocolate with extra sugar and a dash of nutmeg, because he said that’s how Haley’s Circus made it during their winter season.
Just like it was sad that he knew Bruce preferred white tea after eight pm, with one teaspoon of honey and a splash of lemon, but he couldn’t remember why.
He couldn’t remember why.
He made hibiscus blueberry tea for himself and Jay, placed all four cups on a tray, and brought them down to the cave.
Dick was currently sitting at the Batcomputer, which had names of people known to have traveled different realities. Wally, and Dr. Fate.
Jason set the tray down on the table Bruce and Jay were at, and grabbed his and Dick’s cups bringing them over to the Computer, “Doesn’t Tim have a speedy friend? The Imp?”
Impulse. He died right before Jason’s last multiversal adventure. Another kid gone because they were given the responsibility of saving the world before they were even allowed to vote.
He was pretty sure the kid was back now, but still. It seemed like the number of sidekicks multiplied after Jason died, not went down to zero.
Jay was halfway through a sip when he made a face, “Tim has a speedy friend?”
“Well, not yet. Because he’s still in the future.” Dick swiveled around in the batcomputer chair and took his mug of Hot Cocoa from Jason, “Also, Tim’s the Robin after this guy.” Dick patted Jason’s shoulder.
Jay frowned, looking from Bruce to Jason, “But…what?”
Jason slightly shook his head.
Jay lifted his eyebrows once and crossed his arms, “After all that time I spent convincing him not to follow us around with a camera at night, all he does is lose the camera.” he grumbled, “When did Tim become Robin?”
And here’s the thing about Jason. He’s not as brash as most people make him out to be. He survived on the streets for a while. Most people don’t know immediately when he’s angry, because if they did, he would've gotten himself killed on the streets. Most of the time he’s been outwardly angry, he’d really been… scared.
Point being, Jason knew himself. And he knew the curiosity Jay was putting on had an undercurrent of incredulity. And he really wasn’t in the mood to go through the whole ‘ Why was there another Robin after the last one died?’ thing.
Jason slid into the chair beside Bruce, so he was across from Jay, “Halloween. Oh! Would ya look at that? Flashcards.” he reached over to grab them and started shuffling, “If you get anything below a 95 because you were too busy yapping with us, I will be very disappointed in you.”
Jay rolled his eyes, “You tryna live vicariously through me?”
Jason didn't dignify a response. Instead he skimmed through the flashcards to figure what Jay was studyi–
Oh.
Cancers.
Well, too late to back out now. “Alright, how do you wanna do this? I give you the name and you tell me the symptoms, and the group it falls under?” He flipped the deck around so that Jay could only see the
“I was about to say how creepy it is how you know exactly how I think, but then I realized you’re me.” Jay took a sip of his tea and motioned for Jason to ask away.
They got through a bunch. Almost half of the 120 flashcards Jay had created. Because of the 120 different types of cancer. And they both knew the card was coming. Still it didn’t stop them from freezing when Jason pulled out the card that had Osteosarcoma written out in all caps.
It was the type of cancer Mami had.
Of course, Jason didn’t actually know that until he had come to live in the manor. When she had first gotten it, he was still too young to fully understand what was going on. Why when Mami went to go pick him up, he heard a slight snap and she immediately set him down. Or why she was constantly placing heating pads on her upper arms. But by the time he was six, he knew she was hurt. Because he remembers having to stay with their neighbors some nights, because the next time he saw Mami, she was in a hospital bed. By the time he was seven, he knew she was sick. Because sometimes after their trips to the library, they would go to Gotham General and he would curl up into Mami’s side while she read to him. As she slowly lost her hair and her figure grew frail.
But she couldn’t get Chemo for long, because Papi went missing, and he was the one paying off their medical debt. And she had to make due with the cheapest medicine available. Painkillers.
From Ibuprofen, to Naproxen, to Gotham-made Hydrocodone, and Morphine, and eventually Heroin. In the end, who knows if it was the tumor that metastasized or if the painkillers were laced with fentanyl.
Well, it was the fentanyl that killed Mami, Bruce showed him the reports after he freaked out on Two-Face, but it could’ve just as easily been the Cancer that had gone untreated.
He didn’t know that growing up, but there were so many similar stories, he figured out during his time as the Red Hood. People who were in debt, who needed proper medical attention, but could afford it. So they turned to painkillers to save them from the pain. It was Gotham though, so of course the harder stuff was going to be laced.
Jay frowned, and shifted in his seat, so he was hugging his leg, head resting on his knee, “It’s a sarcoma, so bones, but not a myeloma which comes from the bone marrow. Usually it occurs at the ends of your bones, because those are the growing parts. The metaphyses. The most common places of development are the femur, the tibia and the…humerus.” Jay suddenly found the string to the teabag very interesting, “It can also occur in the pelvis, skull and jaw, most of the cases are of people under the age of 25, but the average age is 15. For causes… Genetics, uh, lack of blood to bone tissue– bone infarctio n. Rapid growth, like…puberty, and exposure to radiation, because radiation’s fun for everyone.” He flicked the W on the mug three times, “And symptoms are like most bone cancers: pain, swelling, pain with movement, unexplained fevers, and bones that break with simple movements.”
“Nailed it.” Jason leaned over and flicked Jay’s curls with the flashcard, “But you still have…” Jason flipped through the cards, “32 more.”
A slow smile creeped on Jay’s face, “Easy peasy.”
The next couple weeks passed by. Jay made true to his word of staying in bed all of February break, except for rehearsal and the college tours he and younger Bruce planned. So, mainly, he stayed in bed over the weekend.
The day they were supposed to leave to visit Princeton also happened to be the day it snowed 16 inches. And Jason didn’t like the snow. He hated it , but over the years it’s become more bearable, and sure, Alfred had recovered from Bane’s attack, but he decided to shovel the snow for him.
It was also four in the morning, and he had woken up from a nightmare, but that's besides the point. He was just doing something nice for Alfred. That’s all.
It wasn’t even a nightmare about his death or any of the actually traumatic things that had happened to him, like dying, or crawling out of his grave, or the things he saw on the street.
It wasn’t even the new nightmares he’d been having of himself dying in different ways, but from a first person point of view.
No. The dream actually started off nice. Him and Mami were reading together, and Papi was there playing Billy Joel. Then two shots rang out, and Jason expected himself to be dead. But he wasn’t. Papi was on the floor bleeding, and he tried to stop it, but he wouldn’t stop bleeding. Then Mami pulled him into her arms, and he held onto her as tight as he could. But she was slowly getting thinner and thinner, until all he was hugging was a corpse. A skeleton.
Then he was running, and he was running through their apartment building trying to find someone, anyone, but each apartment was just a different dead Jason.
Until he got to an empty apartment, but when he got in, the entire room had mirrors on all sides, and he was withering. Just like Mami had. Getting thinner and thinner, hair and skin peeling off, slowly revealing a skeleton with the most messed up bones.
He focused on the repetitive motion of scooping up the snow and throwing it to the side. Ignoring the numbness spreading in his knees and hip, and ignoring the way his fingers started to lock up from the cold.
It didn’t take long for Bruce to join him. Older Bruce, by his gait.
They shoveled in sync, one after the other, falling into a rhythm. He absolutely refused to let his mind wander to the dream he had, so he fully switched gears.
He could totally see Jay becoming a doctor. Honestly, Jason would’ve done that just to spite Dick and Bruce for dropping out of college. Obviously, he can’t, though. Because Jason Todd doesn’t exist but–
“Jason.” He ruined their rhythm and looked at Bruce. He’s been looking at him in that way he had been recently. Like he was looking at the barrier they had placed between each other, wishing to tear it down, “If you still wanted to go to college, you still could.”
Jason froze, because when did Bruce become a mind reader? Jay and Younger Bruce were going to visit Princeton, so they were just thinking of the same things. That’s all.
“Well, you would need a GED, though I could help you with that if you would like.”
Jason didn’t dare look at Bruce’s face. “You don’t get it.” There was a knot forming in Jason’s stomach. Or, maybe it had been there all this time, and Bruce dangling the idea of something he’s wanted for so long, but could never have, made him feel like a fish who was about to eat bait and end up as someone else’s dinner.
“I suppose I don’t.” Bruce stopped shoveling and stretched out his back, “Otherwise I would have asked you this sooner. I was… afraid, in asking, I would drive you away, and hoped you would come to me in your own time. And I have realized that the card was never really visible on the table for you.”
“No, Bruce, that’s not–” Jason stopped shoveling, “I don’t want to go to college as ‘John Doe’, or whatever alias.”
“And I want you to go as Jason Peter Todd-W–” Bruce cut himself off, “I want you to go as Jason Peter Todd.”
Jason gave him a deadpan stare, “Dead kids don’t go to college.”
“And if said child was legally revived?”
He blinked, “What?”
“I’ve had the paperwork ready ever since you came back. I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t really sure where we stood, though you’ll always be my son. Your death did not change that, and I am sorry I haven’t made that clear.”
“I’m– you’ve had the– what?”
“You don’t have to make the choice right now. We still have a lot of time before we return home, and even then, you can wait as long as you would like, but, um, I just wanted you to be aware you had more options, and no matter what you choose, I’ll be proud of you, because at the end of the day, I will still have you. That’s what’s most important.”
He felt something loosen up in his chest. All the hopes and lost dreams he had collected in the manor and crumpled up after his death were suddenly being reopened. “No strings no nothin’?”
“If I had things my way, I would ask you to never leave my sight, but I’ve realized I am incapable of controlling any of you, so no.”
“Are– are you real?” Jason poked Bruce’s shoulder to find he was really there. Jason was never one to hallucinate though, “Are you… an imposter? Because wouldn’t me coming back to life be suspicious? It would jeopardize our secret identities and–”
“Jason. Since when have you known me not to be prepared?”
“Literally a couple weeks ago when we were actively being pinballed around the Multiverse.”
Bruce looked like he didn’t want to talk about that, “Well, I have been planning this for five years, and have 10 different contingencies and cover stories we could use. I can show you once we get home. Again you don’t have to decide right away.”
“Yes.”
It was Bruce’s turn to reboot, “Yes?”
“For crying out loud, yes.” He felt like jumping up and down and pulling Bruce into a hug, but he didn’t because they’d probably slip on the driveway. “I feel like Pinocchio, yes.”
Jay really didn’t feel like getting out of bed that morning. He was barely able to fall asleep the night before. The throbbing in his knee had made it impossible to ignore the pain, but he couldn’t get his knee comfortable without making his ribs flare up, even though they were wrapped. Maybe he should’ve marked all those flips during rehearsal instead of doing them at 30%.
Though, the other reason he didn’t want to get out of bed was because it was cold. Because of the manor’s size, it did a poor job at retaining heat during the winter, and he was all toasty under all of his blankets. Once he got out from under his blankets, he would be reminded of the cold, and snow, and his first winter on the streets, and–
Yeah, no, he’s getting out of bed.
But all he could get himself to do was stare at the ceiling. He wasn’t even focusing on anything– just head empty.
No. It was not going to be one of those days where he just went through the motions. He wanted to remember today. He was touring Princeton for christ sake.
Bruce said he could drive. He can’t drive if he’s dissociating.
It’s not currently snowing in Princeton. He checked the weather the night before.
If he doesn’t start moving, the weight of everything before this moment will come crashing down on him and he won’t be able to do anything.
It happened during the end of June when he was done with all of his finals and he didn’t have anything to distract him, so he just… powered down. He was stuck in his bed and either his mind was on a loop of some horrible thing that had happened in his life or his mind wasn’t there. Then Bruce offered him back Robin, along with the rule that if you need a break, you take a break and that’s not just for if you’re sick or injured.
But every time that Jay takes a break from Robin and he has nothing to distract him, something inside him shuts off. It happened towards the end of august, but it didn’t happen when he took a break to study for midterms. Then he extended that break into the December Holidays, and boom– everything turned off.
Until Dick physically dragged him out of bed and then to New York where he spent time doing holiday activities with the Titans. Then he got to talking with Raven, and she said it was just his body and mind finally feeling safe enough to turn off his fight or flight mode.
But Jay already gave himself the weekend to bedrot. He has stuff to do today. Places to be. He knows once he gets moving, he won’t stop, so he just has to get moving.
The giddiness of being– ha of being alive again, somewhat faded once they came inside and Jason’s fingers were next to useless, and his joints were throbbing. And with useless fingers, he couldn’t flip the pages of a book, so he was stuck with watching TV with Dick and Bruce as Jay and younger Bruce were out.
“I suggest we watch Mission Impossible.”
Dick and Jason both groaned, “Action movies aren’t interesting when you know you can do all the stunts.”
“They’re also predictable, and even though they up the stakes with each movie, you know Tom Cruise is going to succeed. Also, most of the time, the plot is just big explosions, gotta climb up this giant building with a side of a pretty lady.”
Dick continued to scroll through the options on the TV, “Ugh, I’ve already watched all of these. I hate being in an alternate reality that’s a couple years behind ou–”
“Wait! Hold up, go back. No, the other way. Anne with an E?”
Dick whipped his head towards Jason, “You’ve never– shit, I forgot you were dead.” He clicked on the movie and grinned, “It’s an Anne of Green Gables adaptation.”
“Is it a good adaptation?”
“It was a good series.”
Jason ran a hand across his face, “They better not have ruined her.”
Dick played the first episode. They were about halfway through by the time Jay and younger Bruce came home.
“Oh! Are you guys watching Anne with an E? I love that show.”
Jason frowned and looked back at Jay, “But it’s nothing like the–”
“It’s a great show. Not based on any children’s book at all . Nope.” Jay sat in the armchair and pulled his knee to his chest, “Because if it was, it would ruin the books because it’s a lot darker than the source material. This show is great, because it’s not in any way related to Anne of Green Gables.”
Jason raised his eyebrows, and then thought back on all the episodes he’d been hating on because they took too many liberties. If he didn’t think about them as being an adaptation, he probably would really like the series.
But then he’d start thinking the same way about other adaptations. Then again, this was pretty good, just different.
It was really good.
Jason’s eyes weren’t watering up when Mathew and Merilla officially adopted Anne. No way. It was definitely not because it hit close to home. No way.
He glanced over at Jay to see if he was having the same reaction– only to find him asleep. Honestly, Jason’s surprised he felt safe enough to sleep around them.
The college tour must’ve taken a lot out of him.
Time went on, Bruce, Dick and Jason continued to work on the beacon, while Jay kept himself busy with the musical and school. Something about ‘Hell week’ and SATs. It was a big difference from the way Jason remembered splitting up his time during most of his years in the manor. Jay was more Jason Todd-Wayne than Robin.
Soon Jason would be more Jason Todd-Wayne than just Red Hood.
He heard the rhythm of Dick coming down the stairs, except, Dick was currently at the bat computer typing up a code for the beacon… so–
“Who the fuck are you guys and what are you doing here?” Younger Dick got into a fighting stance.
Hold up, “Is that.. A mullet ?” Jason whipped his head back towards the computer, “Dick, did you have a mullet?”
Older Dick turned around in the chair and offered younger Dick an apologetic shrug, “I’m assuming your Bruce didn’t tell you. A robin is the first sign of spring. ”
Bruce looked up from the workbench, “It’s one bad night for some ART , chum.”
Younger Dick seemingly relaxed, but he definitely still had his guard up, and glanced at Jason, “Why are you taller than me?”
Jason shrugged, “Green Gatorade.” Jason looked back towards older Dick, whose ears were red, so he definitely had that haircut, “You had a mullet in 2017 and you tried to tell me that I would fit in just fine when we were in the 80s.”
“No comment.”
Younger Dick looked from Jason to Dick, “What, were you not around?”
“ I was actually not around.” Younger Dick’s face contorted in the way it does when he’s upset with Bruce– Oh right, Jay told Dick about Bruce firing him from Robin and about being scared of being kicked out, “Because I was in a coma.”
Younger Dick paused, “What? For how long?”
“Um… that’s a great question.” Jason did a little bit of math, if he woke up on Halloween, and then Talia picked him up around May… “At max six months.”
That made Dick’s frown deepen as he slowly turned to Bruce, but older Dick cut in, “We don’t know exactly because Talia kidnapped him–”
“Oh my god, Richard, she did not kidnap me, I woke up, catatonic, and ran away from the hospital, and–”
“She found you and brought you to the league, technically against your will.”
“I was taking down league assassins on pure muscle memory, yet I didn’t attack her. That’s as close to self accord as it gets. Also, we’ve been to seven universes where she’s our mom.”
“You said we’ve been traveling to these universes because of the Law of Attraction. You probably thought of us being in a universe where Talia and Bruce were married.”
“I would not! Talia deserves so much better than Bruce.” Jason then turned to Bruce, “And I mean that full offense, Old Man. You have some major issues you need to sort through.”
Bruce looked up from the soldering bench, “What did I do?”
“You know what you did. Also, we’ve been too sappy recently. Where was all of this, say… five years ago? Huh?”
Younger Dick snorted, “You finally shedded the ‘ goody two shoes’ act.”
That fully caused Jason to reboot, “Excuse me, goody two shoes ? You're –”
Dick’s phone chimed, and he pulled out his phone, “Speak of the angel. A snap. From Jason.” He glanced at older Dick, “Bets on what it’ll be?”
Dick gave a fond smile and shook his head, “I would say whatever book he’s reading, but he’s in rehearsal right now, so…”
“I bet he’s going to be studying, while they’re in the middle of a break.” Dick opened the snap and grinned, shoving the phone in Jason’s face, showing Jay, sitting on a set piece behind stage, knee to his chest, writing in an SAT textbook that was balanced on top of a stand along with a little line of text that said, “ Tim here, Jason told me to tell u that u guys have guests, so don’t, hehe, flip out”
“Give me that.” Jason grabbed Dick’s phone out of his hands, started walking out of reach as he typed out, “that was a horrible pun. And you call yourself a fan”
“Wdym?”
He started running because Dick was using his flippy moves to catch up, “I know you know.”
Dick ripped the phone out of Jason’s hands, “What in the world?”
Older Dick peeked over Dick’s shoulder, and then shot Jason a deadpan expression, “Seriously?”
“Terrorizing Tim is my favorite hobby.” Jason shrugged “You said he’s known about our identities since he was nine.”
Younger Dick started typing away, “But now he’s gonna think I’m terrorizing him.”
“That’s the best part.”
“Why would I terrorize a 13 year old?”
“When I was 13 you literally told me that–”
“ I didn’t tell you anything.”
“ Ne nenene ne –”
Bruce let out a sharp whistle, “Quiet!”
“You can’t tell me what to do.” Jason and younger Dick looked at each other, “Stop that.” Dick covered Jason’s mouth, “Shut up, I’m older.”
Jason chomped down, and Dick immediately let go, “Are you?”
There was a moment when horror dawned on Dick’s face, but Bruce rolled his eyes, “You guys are the same age.”
“Yup, Jason turned 23, like, a month ago.”
Jason glared at older Dick, “You, absolute conniving, backstabbing two-timing whistle-blower. You’re supposed to be my brother and you deceive me like this? This is the single worst act of betrayal in my entire life.”
“Holy dramatic younger brother, Batman.”
Maybe it was a dumb idea to take the SATs the same week of the musical, but when Jay registered in December, he really didn’t think it would be much of a problem. It just made the most sense. In May, he had APs, in June he had finals, and yeah, he could always take them in August, but he still wanted to make sure he had enough time to retake the test in case he got a bad score. He also didn’t want to have to take the October SAT because it felt too close to the Early Decisions deadline.
So there he was at 8:00 a.m. on a Saturday at a school that was in the town over, because Gotham City High doesn’t offer the SATs at their school because of the possibility of a rogue attack.
He felt his heart pound in his chest. His hands were sweaty, but his fingers were ice. He literally felt like this last night, and the night before. What even is this? He jumps off of buildings every night, and beats up pimps on a regular basis. Why does a silly little test have him square breathing?
Maybe all the adrenaline he’s had coursing through his body will finally catch up to him and he’ll have a heart attack and die.
Jay adjusted the compression sleeve on his knee, while going through the five four three two one method Alfred taught him for grounding.
He couldn’t give up just because he had an anxiety attack. Not when Jason looked so much like Papi when he said he'd be disappointed if he got anything below a 95. Obviously he knows Papi would be happy that Jay has an opportunity to get a good education. And he couldn’t waste that opportunity. He wasn’t going to.
He turned his attention to the proctor, and waited for the test to begin.
The beacon was up and running by Sunday and as a treat, they decided to catch the closing night Gotham City High’s production of Grease. Alternate reality Bruce, alternate reality Dick, and Alfred had been going to every single showing, and it was only right that they watched Jay perform, seeing all the hard work he put into it.
It wasn’t the worst thing ever. It just… wasn’t the best. The kid who played Danny Zuko wasn’t a really good singer and slightly behind the beat while singing. Jason could see the girl who played Sandy (who played the part beautifully) eye twitching whenever they had to sing together. And maybe Jason was biased, but Jay, who played Doody, and the girl who played Frenchy definitely stole the show. He could tell from the crowd’s reaction. The girl who played Frenchy was a really strong dancer and singer, and Jay did at least one flip or crazy high jump in every high energy dance number he was in.
Jason can imagine how that happened. The choreographer asks, ‘Say, isn’t your older brother Dick the flying Grayson? Did he ever teach you how to do a flip?’
Though, the way Jay flipped across stage gave no indication to the fact that he was Robin. They were heavier, with less bounce, and Jay acted like it took a lot out of him.
Younger Dick was the loudest person in the audience whenever Jay did a flip. It totally went against theater etiquette, but every time Jay’s grin grew wider.
All in all, it wasn’t the worst musical. Jason vaguely remembers the musical from the year before being a complete dumpster pile.
The six of them waited in the lobby for Jay, and watched as the cast slowly emerged to greet family and friends. Jay was one of the last people to show, but he was talking with a mini Tim and a kid who Jason assumed to be Ives. Though the Ives kid seemed to break off with a wave and head to his parents.
Jay was on a path towards them, but he kept getting stopped and congratulated. And even though Jay was staying polite, it was obvious he was out of his comfort zone.
“Oi! Mr. Superstar! Broadway called, they want their Blockbuster back!”
Some of the tension seemed to drain out of Jay as he carefully made his way to them, avoiding anyone else that seemed to come his way by being entirely engrossed in a conversation with Tim, “...to say the words ‘thank you’ so many times in the past three days, I’m starting to feel like a broken record.”
“The main thing they’re complimenting you on, are your flips. Those were like, fours. At best.”
Jay frowned, “I’d like to see you do six flips, while singing and dancing. An entire week in a row.”
“I feel like I could.” Tim had a slight smile that seemed to say ‘I know the exact thing you’re trying not to tell me.’ which he does. Which is probably why Tim looked a little confused when he saw Jason, Older Dick and Older Bruce. Obviously they were in disguises, aka, Bruce and Dick grew out their facial hair, and Jason was pulling off the Clark Kent special, so really they were doing the bare minimum, but also, less is more.
Tim stuck his hand out, “I’m Tim.”
Jason grinned, this was going to be so much fun, “And I’m Jason from an Alternate Universe.”
Jay facepalmed, “No he’s not. He’s joking. He’s my cousin.” Jay barely paused, searching for a name, “Peter. He can be a nuisance sometimes.”
Tim frowned, because he definitely knew Peter��was Jason’s middle name, but went along with it, “You look like a Peter.”
Dick looked like he was having trouble holding back a laugh, “I’m Mark, I used to babysit Jay.”
Tim shook his hand, and turned to Bruce.
“I’m Noah. Willis was a friend of mine.”
Jason then butted in, “Aren’t you the kid who took the photos for the musical’s Instagram? They were really good.”
Tim grinned, “Thank you. It’s been a hobby of mine for a while now.”
Jason nodded, “I bet it has. You seem like someone who takes pictures of birds.”
He frowned, though it was in a what do you know sort of way, “There haven’t been any birds out in a while.”
Jason raised an eyebrow, “Whaddaya mean? I’ve definitely seen a couple today.” He glanced at Jay, who wasn’t even paying attention to their conversation. He was balanced on one leg stretching out his hamstring while zoned out on the wall behind Jason.
Tim, being the little gremlin he was, shoved Jay over. Of course, younger Bruce immediately caught him by the elbow.
Jay steadied himself and leveled a look at Tim, "Your fervent, misguided sense of entitlement is stunning." Jay sighed, he pulled his keys out of his pocket, “I can’t wait for the three blankets and five pillows calling my name. Do you need a ride home, Tim? ”
“Actually, you probably have a plastic trophy with the title ‘ walking dictionary’ waiting for you.” Jay blinked, so Tim elaborated, “We have the cast party in like… thirty minutes. Remember?”
“Oh. Right, forgot about that.”
Younger Bruce frowned, “If you’re tired, Jay–”
“I’m fine.” He spun his keys, “We have enough time to hit the gas station. We’ll just buy a pack of Zestis or something.”
“Would you like me to drive you two?”
Jay rolled his eyes, “I won’t fall asleep at the wheel if that’s what you’re insinuating.” He turned to Jason, older Dick and Older Bruce, “Thanks for coming. I know you guys have been busy.”
“Anytime squirt.”
Jay turned to younger Dick, “Are you leaving for New York tonight or tomorrow?”
Dick opened his arms for an embrace, “Tonight. I gotta work tomorrow. April?”
Jay grinned as he returned the hug, “You bet. I already have a list of–”
Dick pulled away, “Alright, nerd, save it for later or I’ll forget come tour time.” He turned to Tim, “It was nice to finally meet you, by the way.”
Tim grinned, “We actually have met before this, but yeah.” He looked at the group as a whole, “It was nice meeting all of you.”
“Bye guys.” Jay limped slightly on his first step, but then caught a better rhythm.
Bruce being Bruce did catch the limp, concern spread across younger Bruce’s face, “Jason?”
“Yeah, D–dad?” Jay looked back, seemingly surprised at how easily the D word came out. He glanced at Jason in panic, before blinking and looking back at Bruce with hesitation.
Bruce wasn’t expecting it either, based on his bewildered expression, like he had been handed a great honor of being called ‘Dad’. “Have fun, son.” The words flowed like water out of his mouth. Like that’s all he’s been wanting to say. “And drive safely. I don’t want to have to explain to the Drakes why their kid was in a car accident.”
Jay grinned “Puh-lease, I’m a better driver than Dick and you know it.”
Tim side eyed him, “You drive like a grandma.”
“Hush, little freshman. Safer is better than faster.” Jay took two more steps towards the exit, but turned back and surged towards Bruce, who immediately returned the hug, mumbling something into his hair. Something he couldn’t hear from where he was standing, but could see the way Alfred seemed to lock away the moment to treasure. The way younger Dick’s face flashed with something wistful, but then turned into a proud little smile.
It twisted something in Jason’s stomach. Part of him wanted to look at his Bruce. Try to piece together what he’s thinking. The other part forced him to look anywhere else. Not towards Jay and Bruce, not towards his Bruce, anywhere else.
He turned to the wall Jay was zoning out on early, only to come face to face with a giant lavender cancer ribbon, with a QR code to a donation center. No wonder Jay was zoned out on it earlier. It probably reminded him of Mami.
He traced a hand over the silky fabric.
God, he hopes Tim and Babs get their signal soon.
Jay and Tim were currently sitting in the warmth of Jay’s car, sipping on their Zestis while waiting in the venue’s parking lot. They were about 15 minutes early, and the only person in there was the music director, who was nice, but one on one conversations with her were kinda awkward, so they decided to wait for more people to show up.
Tim was talking about gossip he’d heard while mic-ing up some of his castmates, and Jay was trying his hardest to pay attention, but he couldn’t ride the adrenaline high anymore. He was sore all over in addition to the ache that refused to leave his knee. He’s starting to think he seriously ruined something in it. Which was so dumb because he hasn’t been out as Robin in almost a month, yet this morning his knee was all red and slightly swollen. The compression sleeve apparently wasn’t doing its job.
He rested the Zesti on his knee, letting the coolness numb the pain. If anything it made it feel worse.
Tim leaned back on the headrest, “So… your cousin. Peter.”
Jay groaned. He knew that bald face lie didn’t fly at all. “Ya know what? I know you know. Let's just stop pretending.” He really just… didn’t have the energy to come up with a lie.
“Well, there goes plausible deniability.” Tim took a sip of his Zesty, “There’s no way that was supposed to be you. He’s too tall.”
Jay massaged the area right below his kneecap, “He died when he was fifteen and then came back to life. Dick said he spent time with the League of Assassins and possibly took a dip in a cursed fountain of youth. So that's probably why he's tall. Magical growth hormones.”
“Fuck.” Tim looked out into the parking lot, “That seems like the lottery of trauma.” He turned back to Jay with a shit eating grin, “Maybe you should go for a swim. Grab a couple feet of height.”
“Don’t go shaming me for being short. Alternate reality Dick said you stop growing at 5 '6”.”
He frowned, “How would they even know me?”
“I dunno, Tim.” Jay still didn’t understand the logic of letting another kid be Robin after the last one died in the suit. (He snooped and found the comic books in Jason’s room, and he had said it was pretty much scene for scene how he died.) Obviously, he didn’t know the context behind most of the things that happened in their universe, and it was a lot, so he just… tried not to dwell on it.
“Do normal Bruce and Dick know I know?”
Jay nodded.
“Can I see the batcave?”
He just side eyed Tim.
The next morning, Jason, Dick, Bruce and Bruce were all sitting around the table eating breakfast, when Jay came down with eyebags to rival Bruce’s and flushed skin.
He made eye contact with Jay, who’s eyes began to look glossy, but he blinked a couple times, before sitting in his seat.
Well, Jay’s definitely sick, but not missing school for anything. He never did.
“Master Jason, are you feeling alright?”
He looked in the general direction of where Alfred was, giving him a slight nod, before looking back at his bowl. Jay picked up his spoon, and began pushing it around, when his eyes started to droop and–
Jason caught Jay by the forehead before he could face plant into his oatmeal.
Then he frowned and placed the back of his hand to Jay's forehead, glancing at younger Bruce and then Alfred, “I think he has a fever.”
Bruce placed the back of his hand on Jay's cheek, “Hm. 100.7.”
Jay blinked lazily at Bruce, “‘m fine.”
“You’ve had a lot going on this week. Maybe you should rest.”
“I’m…” Jay trailed off, eyes turning glossy again, so he buried them in his palms, “I’m so tired.”
“I know. Alfred, could you call the school? And Lucius?” Bruce accepted a damp cloth from Dick, placed it around Jay’s neck, and smoothed back his hair, “Why don’t you try to finish your food and then you can go back to bed.”
Jay just nodded and picked up his spoon.
Jay’s fever was slowly rising throughout the day, causing younger Bruce to slowly become more and more frantic because Jay refused to take any form of medication. Now that Jason really thought about it, despite the couple times he has gotten sick, he’s never gotten a fever while living in the manor.
Currently, Jason was trying to read, but younger Bruce was looking through the shelves that held Thomas Wayne’s old medical textbooks, but they didn’t seem to have what Bruce was looking for. He pulled out a couple herbology books and went to sit in the armchair closest to Jason.
“Bruce, Alfred already gave Jay pansy tea with ginger and lemon.” That’s like, the first natural remedy you find on a mommy blog.
“His fever is at 102.6, now.”Still Bruce continued to flip through the pages, “When Dick was younger, his fevers never got this high. He’d take the ibuprofen and be better the next day, but Jason just won’t take it. I tried, Alfred tried, even Dick tried.” Bruce suddenly had a look on his face that meant he had a Batman idea.
Jason threw his pack of post-its at Bruce, “Don’t you dare drug him. He’ll immediately know and then won’t trust you, and then he won’t eat anything for the next couple days, and that’s worse.”
Bruce buried his head in his hands.
Jason closed his book and rested his elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands, “Do you have those single seal packs?” He knew the answer would be no. In a family of vigilantes, it’s easier to buy painkillers in bulk, which always makes something twist in Jason’s stomach. The bottles are easier to lace with other substances. Though the single seal ones are more expensive.
Bruce stood up and looked at Jason, “Do you think he will take them?”
Jason thought about it for a moment. The single seal painkillers were the only type he kept in his first aid kit, but most of the time it was Dick, Tim, or Steph using them. The only time he’s taken them was that one time he got sepsis, and it was a joint effort from Steph and Dick to actually get him to take them. “I’m not sure… but he’s more likely to take them with the sealed packaging. I could try to convince him, but I’m not gonna push it.” It would be pretty hypocritical.
Bruce was already gone.
So that’s how Commissioner Gordon feels.
Jason picked his book back up and continued reading. Not thirty minutes later, Jay limped into the library, wearing his blankets like a cape, and he sat down right next to Jason, using him as a human shield, from Bruce who was on his tail.
“Jason please, if your fever gets any worse, we’ll have to–”
Jason motioned for him to put the medicine and glass of water on the table. Bruce relented, and to his credit, didn’t complain, when Jason waved him off, but Jason was certain that he was going to sit outside the library doors.
Jay sighed in relief, “Finally. Some me time.”
“Uhuh, and what does that make me?” Jason asked while flipping a page.
Jay frowned at him, but apparently didn’t see the give Jason a response, so he continued to read. He could feel Jay’s eyes on him, but considering how sick he currently was, Jason assumed he zoned out, “Did you overheat over there? Maybe three blankets are too many.”
Jay kicked off two of the blankets, and immediately started shivering like a chihuahua.
“Jason, I need a response. If a fever gets too high, it can cause brain damage.”
Jay pulled his blanket around himself tighter, “Shuddup– you’re not real.”
Jason was about to retort back with an ouch, I feel pretty real , when a smaller shivering Jay superimposed onto Jay’s shivering figure. One, who in his last moments thought that Jason was his Papi, because he was so out of it.
So… Jay probably thought he was a hallucination. Though his fever wasn’t high enough for one. It was, however, high enough for confusion, and he’s not going to actively pretend to be Papi, but he wasn’t going to correct Jay until he explicitly said something about it.
“You should take the medicine. It’s the good kind too. Name brand and all that.”
Jay shook his head, “No.”
“Ok.” And yeah, maybe Jason eased up way too quickly, but he could always go back to that point. Or use reverse psychology. Whatever makes more sense in the moment.
He continued reading, while Jay continued to shiver and stare, “What book are you reading?”
“The Chronicles of Narnia.” The spine was worn, not too much, but that perfect amount where you could easily flip the pages. It was a hardback, and there were post-it notes on the pages that his favorite scenes or lines were on. “I know it’s more of Mami’s thing, but would you like me to read to you?”
Jay nodded.
Jason flipped back to the beginning of ‘Prince Caspian’ and started to read out loud. Three chapters in, Jay started listing towards the side, until his head brushed Jason’s shoulder, and he shot back up in confusion.
Jason rolled his eyes, “Yes I’m real. You should probably take the medicine if you thought I was a hallucination. It’s in single seal packaging, so it’s unlikely that it’s been tampered with.”
“No.” Jay grabbed one of the pillows on the couch and placed it on Jason’s lap, before resting his head on the pillow. “Continue reading.”
So he did, and he found himself carding his fingers through Jay’s hair, just like Mami used to do with him. Now that he thinks about it, he thinks they read the entire Chronicles of Narnia while Mami got her chemo. He was young at the time. He only really remembers reading the series in the manor, but every time he reads the books, something melancholy settles in his chest. He always thought it was because the Pevensies died, but… maybe it’s because it reminds some part of him of her.
He heard Jay’s breath catch, and nothing really exciting was currently happening in the book. Then it hitched again and–
Oh shit, he was crying. Jason made him cry. Bruce is gonna kill him. But also, Jay’s fever was probably up to 103 by now, so it could hardly be Jason’s fault.
“What’s wrong?”
Jay sniffed and wiped the tears from his eyes, “Nothin’.” He took in a shaky breath, “I was just thinking about Mami.” it came out pretty even, and Jason was about to start reading again, when Jay just started sobbing.
Fuck. What was he supposed to do? He wishes Dick was here. He’d know what to do. Jason rubbed little circles into Jay’s shoulder, “Hey, it’s ok. I still miss her too.”
“No– It’s not– you don’t–” He started sobbing harder, “I’m sick .”
Jason pressed the back of his hand to Jay’s temple, “I’m not Bruce, but I’m pretty sure your fever has continued to rise.”
“Fuck.” Jay looked like he was about to say something else, but he sat up abruptly and grabbed the box of Motrin. He wiped the tears from his eyes, and carefully inspected the box for any indication it could be tampered with. Then he set it back down on the table, rubbing the palm of his hand into his knee. “I’m really sick .” His eyes began to water again, “I don’t– I can’t– not like Mami.”
Jason focused on the small little box on the table, “It was only bad when it didn’t come from a safe place. Bruce probably got that from a fancy Bristol CVS. And the fancy Bristol CVS had to get it from Texas. On an FDA-audited cGMP-certified site. It’s not Hydrocodine, and it’s only this once. Just to bring down your fever.”
Jay stared at Jason. Like he was debating telling him something, but then his expression hardened, “You don’t get it.” He sniffed, “Of course you don’t get it. She wasn’t your mom.”
It was scathing and did its job at picking at the scab wound that Jason never really had the chance to heal. It made Jason want to spit back a retort equally as cruel, “She might not have been my mom by blood, but she also raised me. And I know for a fact that she didn’t raise you to use her name in a vain argument just to get someone off your back because you’re anxious about taking a pill.” He stood up to leave, but paused, “I’m not forcing you to do or take anything, but I will say, if you don’t take the fever reducers, you’ll have to go to the ER.”
Jay seemed to pale at that, and eyed the box, “Can…can you stay?”
He rolled his eyes and sat back down, also staring at the box.
He counted to 84 before Jay finally picked up the packaging again. 73 as he inspected the box once more. Then another 57 before he actually opened the thing. Jay slid the plastic tray that held the individual pills out of the box. Where he just stared at it.
Jason wasn’t going to rush Jay. Hell, it probably took Jason longer just to open the box when he had sepsis.
Jay took a deep breath in and broke off the little square. He held his breath for a count of eight as he peeled back the foil that sealed the tablet in, and breathed out on a count of eight while keeping his eye on the pill like it might explode.
Jason was square breathing right alongside the kid. And he wasn’t even the one taking the damn thing. He’s the least qualified person under this roof to be doing this. “You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to.”
Jay glared at Jason, and popped the tablet in his mouth. Panic immediately filled Jay’s face as he realized what he was about to do.
Jason grabbed the glass of water on the table and handed it to Jay, “Wash it down, wash it down.”
Jay chugged the glass of water. Once he was finished with it, he leaned back and rested the glass on his cheek, like an ice pack.
Not two seconds later, younger Bruce walked in, “I’m so proud of you, Jay.” Bruce went to give Jay a hug, but he stood up and staggered out of the Library.
Bruce frowned and went to follow Jay, but Jason grabbed his arm, “Stop hovering.”
“I’m not hovering.” Jason gave him a look, and Bruce sat down and sighed “Ok, fine. Though can you blame me for worrying?”
“Yes.” Jason was just going to leave it at that, but then he added, “He’s 16. He’s not going to appreciate you hovering. There are going to be times where he needs you like water, but if– hmm… it’s kinda like a plant. If you overwater it, it wilts, if you underwater it, it shrivels up. But if you water it the right amount…”
“It blooms.”
Jason nodded, “Usually, you seem to be doing a good job at riding that middle line of letting Jason know you’re there if he needs you. I mean, he did call you Dad yesterday– but right now, you’re overwatering. Wait at least 30 minutes.”
“Ok.” Bruce nodded, “That’s a really good analogy, by the way.”
“Thanks.” Jason grinned, “If you’re planning on writing a parenting book, quote me.”
That weekend, after his fever had broken, Jay let Tim into the batcave.
To start his Robin training.
Did Bruce know that? No. Did Tim know that? Also no. But the only thing keeping Jay from officially hanging up the cape was the thought of leaving Bruce without someone to protect his six. Obviously there was Helena Bertilini and Stephanie Brown, but Bruce didn’t trust them. Not in the same way he trusted him or Dick. And Selena mostly stuck to Crime Alley.
He needs to have his affairs in order, and Robin was the biggest object.
Jay probably would’ve chosen Stephanie to take up the mantle. She seems to have that Robin sparkle, and kinda reminds him a bit of Dick. Caring and kind, but not to be underestimated because she does have an aggressive streak. Not that Jay ever did underestimate her. But her dad did. And now he’s in Blackgate. She’d actually be a really good Robin, considering she's already out some nights fighting crime, and she’s proven herself to be really smart. But she doesn’t know their secret identities and Tim does.
Pros and cons. Mainly pros.
Jay has seen her a couple of times around school. Though he’s interacted with her more as Spoiler and Robin rather than Stephanie and Jason. She’s a year older than Tim, but he skipped a grade so they were both freshmen… “Hey Tim. Do you know a Stephanie Brown?”
Currently, they were running a simulation under the guise of fooling around, but Jay was trying to assess where Tim’s skill level was currently at. Another pro about Tim is that apparently he’s been taking martial arts classes for a while, and was already pretty good at fighting. Not vigilante good, but better than your average person.
“Yeah. She’s in my geometry class– aw… shit!” a holographic mugger had stabbed him in the gut, causing the simulation to end for him. “And my world history class. What about her?”
Jay finished off the rest of the muggers and smirked, “Nothin’.” He made sure to keep his breathing even, “I was just tryna distract ya.” not quite. He put the name in Tim’s mind, and now, he’d keep an eye out for her.
Tim gave him a deadpan look, as he flopped on the floor “For Gotham’s physical manifestation of hope, you sure are a dick.”
That made Jay grin, “All I’m hearin’ is that I’m great at my job. Almost like the original.”
“Please. With your sloppy ass flips, you’re not even close to being Dick Grayson.”
Jay carefully lowered himself onto the floor and brought his right knee to his chest, “At least a nine year old with a hyperfixation won’t figure out my secret identity.”
That seemed to get Tim to pause, and flip him off. “You know what will give your secret identity away?”
“If this is the point where you betray me, I’m going to kill myself before Bruce does with his lecture about trusting people.”
Tim clutched his fake pearls in offense, “Do you truly think so little of me? No. I was going to say your premature grays.”
That got Jay scrambling for his phone. When was the last time he touched up his roots? Wait– he did it the night before opening night, “You contemptible human splotch, I touched up my roots a week ago! This is why your parents don’t love you.”
“I’m an angel in my parents' eyes. They love me. Can you say the–” Tim cut himself off when he realized what he was about to say.
“The entirety of Gotham thinks I’m an angel.”
Tim smirked and pointed up, “Angel Robin.”
He knew Tim was referencing Jason’s death, but it made something twist in his stomach. He shook his head, “What are you talkin’ about? He’s Jesus Robin. Duh.”
Jay was right about the whole ‘placing Stephanie’s name into Tim’s head so he’d hang out with her’ thing. Except he was right in the wrong way, because apparently Tim had gotten her snap and they were ‘talking’ . Tim ‘talks’ to a lot of people. At the same time. So that kind of makes things a bit messy… but it’s ok. He’ll work it out. Mainly, it’s for him to create a real world connection with her if she ever needs someone. Because he knows Bruce, and if it seems like Jay was close to her before he– no. He might not, he might– quits. Before he quits, he might trust Spoiler to be more of an ally.
Hopefully.
So there Robin was, waiting on a fire escape in the Burrows that’s near a diner Spoiler’s known to frequent. He could’ve waited on the roof of her house, but that would be too intimidating. This way it’s more casual.
He heard the fire escape rattling above him and knew it was her coming down. Batman would be much more silent.
“Hi there Robin. I see you gotchur big boy pants on.”
“Thanks. They have pockets.” While technically, it was warm enough for him to go back to wearing the green shorts with flesh colored tights underneath, he was wearing green cargo pants to hide the compression sleeve he had on his knee. He still hasn’t told Bruce about it, and he intends to keep it that way until he has all his affairs organized. “I gotcha some waffles. Ya don’t havta eat ‘em now.” He handed the to-go bag to her.
“I’m not complainin’ ‘bout free food.” she paused and looked around, “Is the Bat with ya? Is this supposed to be a trap?”
“Nah, the Bat’s in Burnley.” He played with the straw of his milkshake.
“Gotcha, gotcha.” She nodded, taking the box out of the bag, and lifted her mask over her mouth, “So, Boy Wonder, what brings ya here this time? Epic team up? Soon we’ll be more popular than you and your boss.”
Jay gave her a small smile, “Nah. I just wanted to talk with ya. I dunno, there’s not many heroes our age.”
“And how d’ya know I’m not… 37.”
He slurped his milkshake in response.
Spoiler put her fork down and tilted her head in exasperation, “Robin, this is how you get groomed.”
He paused, “How old do you think I am?”
“I dunno, 12? 13? You’re kinda short for a 13 year old, though.”
Jay slowly nodded. He might’ve had a growth spurt recently, but he was still only 5’4”. “I’m older than you think, Barney. And, I know you’re around my age because Batman’s kinda a stalker. Sorry.”
She turned to look down over the streets, “Is that why you’re here? To apologize for your creepy old man’s behavior and then stick me in juvie for vigilantism?”
“That would be pretty hypocritical.” he dangled his feet over the edge of the fire escape, also looking down. If he was higher up and he fell, he would go splat and everything would stop. That would surely be easier. “And no, that's not the reason I’m here.” He dug out a slip of paper from his pocket. “That has my number on it. Batman doesn’t really trust you, but I do. If you ever need anything, whether that be better gear, someone to help clean up some bad guys, or just someone to talk to, feel free to shoot me a text.” He went to stand up, “You’re Robin approved. Don’t forget that.” And he grappled away.
According to Dick, something was off about Jay. Yeah, sure, maybe the kid was spending a lot more time in his room and lowkey self isolating, but “He probably wants some time to himself. We’ve been staying with them for over a month, and we’re practically strangers. Not to mention, he’s just getting over another fever.” It was weird. They happened within a month of each other. And Jason considered himself to have a pretty good immune system. He’d only get seriously sick, once every couple years.
Dick frowned at the plate he’d set down, “I don’t think that’s it.”
“Ok… then what do you think is off?” Jason placed the water pitcher in the center of the table.
Dick stayed silent as he gathered his thoughts until they finished setting up the table and then he motioned towards the porch. “Ok.” He started as soon as he shut the door behind them, “I haven’t talk to either of the Bruces about this yet, because it’s… it’s–” He clamped his mouth shut, and took in a breath through his nose, “Fuck, this is so much easier to talk about with strangers.”
So this was probably something really serious. Like, spilling things to a stranger is easy because you don’t know them, but as soon as you try to say the same things to someone you have a history with…
Dick pursed his lips, “Ok, so, remember back in the fifth reality we went to, when, um, we were at your grave?”
“...yes?” That was honestly the second least traumatizing Death of Jason they’d experienced throughout their whole trip. “What about it?”
His knee started bouncing up and down, but then he straightened up, and stilled himself. “I’ve been thinking of something you said when we were there, and I was planning on talking about it once we got home, but now I feel like it kinda relates to what I’m feeling is off with Jay.” Dick looked Jason square in the eyes. The look was like steel, yet it was filled with so much apprehension, that Jason couldn’t break away. “You said you’re supposed to be dead . Which, I don’t believe to be true at all. You came back for a reason. A reason those higher entities who call you a mistake don’t even know, which makes them fear you.”
“Dick–”
“Let me finish. I’m not going to push this conversation now. I’m not going to push it if you don’t want to have the conversation ever. Just know I’m here for you if you need me. I’ve had my fair share of issues too.”
He looked out to the rose bushes that were still bare due to the late March temperature fluctuations.That… that was a lot to unpack, but he did say they could unpack it later, or never, so he focused on the bigger issue, “I… don’t think I see how this relates to Jason.”
“Yes you do.”
“Ok, I don’t see why you’re asking me .” He shifted so his entire body was facing Dick, “I wasn’t able to be 16 years old. For all we know, they could literally be mood swings. For me, the highs have always felt like I could touch the moon, and the lows were like falling into the Mariana trench.” He drummed his fingers on the armrest, “I get you’re concerned, but also, Jay has goals that are a lot clearer than the dream I refused to let myself believe in before I died. He knows he has a place here. He wouldn’t give all that up.”
“You really think so?”
Jason paused. The memory of why Gloria Stanson hanging in her room had felt like it ripped something out of him and shoved something in. Because there were certain parts of his time on the streets that he refused to remember. And her hanging there because of what Garzonas had done to her–
It forced him to remember.
And not in the way he remembered while running into the people he worked for. Those people had made something under his skin crawl in a way that had him scrubbing his skin raw.
Gloria had reminded him of it in vivid detail. And he remembered watching Garzonas fall, wondering if the splat would make everything finally stop so he could catch up.
But they were just intrusive thoughts. He would’ve never acted on them.
Right?
Intrusive thoughts are probably what runs through his brain the most ever since his dip in the Lazarus pit, but he’s never acted on them.
There was a knock on the door, before Alfred opened it, “Supper is ready, Masters.”
They walked back inside to wash their hands before sitting down at the table with Bruce, Bruce and Jay.
Jay who… looked thinner than when they’d first met. Whose eyes seemed to have bags that could rival Bab’s. Whose skin appeared to be dull, even though he’s been recovered from his second fever for a week and a half.
He looked to Dick, who was giving him a barely there ‘ see what I mean?’ look.
Jason piled some more food onto Jay’s plate, “You gotta eat more, kid. Otherwise you’ll never be as tall as me.”
Jay grimaced for a second before masking it behind a neutral mask, and turned to look Jason in the eyes, “You had a Lazarus Pit.” he pushed around some vegetables on his plate, “‘sides, I wasn’t plannin’ on it. Growin’ wrong sucks.” he barely mumbled under his breath.
Younger Bruce was talking to older Bruce, and Alfred, but Dick definitely heard, because some of the blood rushed from his face.
Jason looked back to Jay, “What? What do you mean?”
A flurry of emotions flashed over Jay’s face before settling on a glare, and standing up, “You’re an idiot and you don’t know nothin’.” and stormed out.
Jason pushed his chair out to follow, but Dick stopped him, “I’ll go.” and just like that, he was gone.
Younger Bruce frowned, “What’s the matter?”
Jason just shrugged, “Nothin’.”
Jay stopped, taking a break halfway up the stairs, heart pounding in his ears. Jason figured it out. Of course he figured it out. He knew he was going to figure it out first and that’s exactly why he’d been avoiding him. Now Jason was going to tell Bruce, and it was going to ruin all of his plans and they’re all going to treat him differently and–
God, he wants to be able to talk to Mami so bad.
He sat down on the stairs, rubbing the knot that was forming under his sturnum. Bruce was going to find out eventually. He just wanted to tell him about it once he had all of his affairs in place. He wanted to tell him when he was ready to.
Dick sat down next to him. Seemingly not keen on filling the silence with anything.
Honestly, Jay was pretty sure that Dick would’ve gone ghost for a couple hours after learning. At least he was sure that’s what his brother Dick would do. Then he’d come back and insist they watch a lousy reality TV show together.
Honestly, this Dick was pretty diffent from his brother. Still the same person fundamentally, but a lot more mature. Which made sense, considering he was like… 30.
Jay held himself as stiff as cardboard. Waiting for Dick to say something like ‘I’m so sorry,’ or ‘We’re going to help you get better.’
“You know, you and Dick seem a lot closer than my Jason and I were when he was Robin.”
Jay shrugged, not knowing where this was going, “You’re a busy person. I get it. I’m pretty sure your Jason gets it too…” He pulled his knee to his chest, and turned his head to look at Dick, “I’m assuming he told you guys?”
Dick pursed his lips, “No. I actually told him, but we haven’t told Bruce yet.”
There was a short burst of relief that morphed into guilt, “Why would you tell Jason?” He placed his forehead on his knee. It’s rule number one of telling people about heavy experiences they’ve seen happen to their parents at a young age.
He could feel the guilt radiating off of Dick, “I’m sorry. I just… I wanted to make sure before I jumped to conclusions, and considering you and Jason have similar experiences–”
“We don’t? I mean, technically, genetically, we’re not even the same person.”
Dick paused, “Wait, what are you talking about?”
Jay lifted up his head, “What are you talking about?”
“I thought… you were depressed. Like… dangerously so.”
The knot under his sternum unraveled, “I don’t want to die! I wanna have a life. I want to live . God, I just started to actually let myself live, why would I give all this up on purpose?” If he had a choice he’d live a long healthy life, “Sometimes the PTSD catches up to me. That’s all. Bruce and I, we have a system for when things get harder to deal with. Babs is also working on a Therapy AI for the Justice League, the Titans, and any other heroes who might need it. I’m currently the Guinea Pig, but it’s helped me sort through some things. All she needs to work on is making sure everything stays confidencial and can’t be hacked.”
He could feel the tension dissipate from Dick, “Then what did you mean by ‘you weren’t planning on growing’. ”
He banged his forehead against his knee grasping for strings, “Growing bones suck.” he finally settled on. Cus they do.
Dick slowly nodded, “Growing pains?”
That… was actually a sturdy rope, “Yeah.” It would buy him the time that he needs and provide an excuse, “But also, I know I probably won’t grow much more. Maybe an inch or two. Childhood malnutrition’s a major setback.” and maybe if he wasn’t finally shooting up, his bones wouldn’t be as dilapidated. “It’s just been a busy couple of months, and I think everything’s finally catching up to me. I’m ok, though, and I do realize I could’ve worded that better.”
“I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions.” he laughed, “Some detective I am.”
“Yeah.” some detectives, alright.
Jay had just finished taking out some would-be rapist with Spoiler. He cuffed the unconscious man to the nearest lamp post as Spoiler consoled the woman.
Something was bubbling under his chest. It was dread, it was ire, it was– something inside him that refused to heal. That kept growing and growing and growing and–
He realized he’d fully zoned out while helping Stephanie walk the woman home, and now she was leading them to the old playground that had long since been known for child traffickers.
They both sat on the two tire swings, in silence until Jay said, “Ya know, the first time I met the Bat, I was boostin’ his tires.”
She let out a surprised laugh, “What? You stole Batman’s tires.”
He offered her a tired smile, “Yeah. It’s not a story I get to tell often. Seein’ as, ya know, secret identities. He caught me of course. Cus he’s Batman, but I hit him with the tire iron and ran away. I didn’t even get all four.”
Stephanie was full on laughing at that point, “Now all I can picture is a scrawny little eight year old hitting Batman in the ankles and calling him a loser.”
“I actually called him ‘ a big boob’ . And I was twelve. Again, I’m older than you think.”
Stephanie tilted her head, doing the math, “And you’ve been Robin, for what, three years? You’re 15?”
“16.” He corrected, “I’ll be 17 in August.” Jay looked up to the moon. It was full tonight, and he bets the gravity of it was causing the throbbing in his knee to be unbearable, “It’s a pretty good retirement age, doncha think?”
Stephanie looked at him, “Jesus Christ you’re short.” She also looked up at the moon, “Ya know, there’s a rumor that Nightwing was the old Robin. Same flips, same jokes. Knows the lay of the land.”
Jay scooted the swing so he was a bit closer to Steph and whispered, “Between you and me, that rumor’s right, but don’t tell anyone.” he let go and the swing started rocking at an angle.
“So, you’re plannin’ on graduating. Gotta new name yet?” She timed the swing so that they were in sync, “Am I gonna see ya around, or are ya gonna leave for New York like Big Blue?”
“Nah, like I said, I’m retirin’. Hanging up the cape. I haven’t told Batman yet though. I just wanted to let ya know just so you’re not blind sided if there’s a new Robin after me.”
“I’ve never heard of a superhero retirin’.” They swung in silence for a minute, “Are you dyin’ or somethin’? Is this the last time I’m gonna see you?”
A low ringing filled Jay’s hearing, “Hopefully not.”
“...To which question?”
“Madame Eggplant, your questions are startin’ to lean into the ‘too personal’ side.” He looked at the bench Mami used to sit at as Papi helped him on the monkey bars, “Besides, you have my number. If ya miss me too badly, just call.” He leaned his head against the rope, “I’ll try to see if my boss’ll let me spill the beans on who I am.”
“I think Gotham’s gonna miss you, Boy Wonder.”
He looked back to the moon with a rueful smile, “I’ll miss her too.”
Ok, so, Tim was coming pretty far in his training, Stephanie has his number and knows to expect a new Robin, so now all that’s left is to tell Bruce he’s retiring. Four week notice. His week with the Titans would be his official last week as Robin.
Now how he goes about that… that’s the real question.
Currently they were busting a drug trafficking ring. Batman and Robin. The dynamic duo. As they should.
Did each kick send a throb through Jay’s leg? Yes. Did every flip make him want to crumple into a ball, cradle his knee tight to his chest and cry? Yes. Though he had a job to do. He could cry about the pain later. And who knows. Maybe it would just go away on its own.
He knows that’s not how it works.
Robin took out the last goon in his corner of the warehouse, searching around the place for any more threats. Batman was also done and cuffing up all the goons.
“Are you alright, Robin?”
Jay controlled his heavy breathing and nodded, “Yeah.” He walked over to the crates, making sure to keep the weight on both his legs even.
He paused, hands resting against the closest crate. God, he was so tired .
“Robin?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good, B.” but he couldn’t put enough strength in the words. They trailed off at the end. So he pulled a batarang out of one of his pockets and pried open the crate.
Explosives?
He walked around the crates and– “Bomb. Batman there’s a bomb. Twelve minutes 53 seconds.”
“Evacuate the building.” Batman threw an unconscious goon over each of his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.
Jay hoisted a dazed goon to his feet and encouraged him up, supporting most of his weight. And that was their system. Bruce carrying the unconscious ones and Jay dragging the ones who were barely there.
Except he could barely support himself with his bad knee, much less grown men who were double his size and weight. Still he pushed through. There were people’s lives on the line. They were only working these jobs because they needed the money. They didn’t deserve to die a fiery death.
His right leg was numb with pain, and his left leg buzzed in exhaustion. He could feel his heart pounding in his temples and sweat trickle down his neck.
This was the last person. He could see the safety of Batman’s cape in front of him, moving the victims further from the blast radius. He was almost there.
Then the world went bright behind him. He tackled the person he was holding to the ground, covering both of them in as much of his cape as possible.
A blast of hot–burning air– swept through his hair as the crack of the explosion caused his ears to ring.
“ROBIN!!!”
Jay rolled off the goon as soon as he was sure the explosions were done, because he was 90% sure he was on fire.
A dark fabric kept batting at his head.
Something wrapped around his upper arm, and pulled him up into a seated position, but he immediately pulled away. No way was he getting kidnapped.
Then he looked at who was trying to help him.
“ Dad.” Jay leaned his head on the bat on his chest.
Bruce wrapped his arms tighter around Jay, and planted a kiss on his forehead, “Don’t… don’t ever scare me like that again. Do you hear me?”
He barely could, because his ears were ringing, but he nodded, “Then you’ll be thrilled to hear that I’m handin' in my four week notice.”
Bruce let out a sigh, “ Thank God.”
Huh. Apparently it wasn't that hard.
Ever since Dick told Jason that he had just jumped to conclusions, Jason couldn’t help but feel a surge of vindication, because of course he knows himself best.
Except, he knew himself best, and there was something wrong.
Obviously, the kid almost got blown up a couple days ago, but other than the singed hair, and fussing over how he can apply burn cream himself (which, makes sense), like Dick said, something was off . The weight loss, the dull skin, the visible exhaustion. It was like something was sucking the life out of Jay.
Nope. He’s not allowed to think like that. Positive thinking attracts positive vibes.
They were all currently down in the cave, debating on whether or not they should amplify the beacon’s signal, or just make their own interdimensional machine. They made the beacon because they didn’t expect to be in this reality for as long as they had been.
He glanced at Jay who was sitting on a stool, kneading the area right below his knee, seemingly zoned out. Jason backed out of the circle he, Bruce, Bruce, and Dick were in to lean against the table next to Jay, “You ok?”
Jay sat up straight, “Yeah. Just… growing pains.”
Jason nodded. He remembers having those when Alfred’s meal plan started to actually prove fruitful. He also remembers freaking out whenever his elbows ached because he was afraid he’d have an x-ray come back and show he had a tumor just like Mami. Obviously, that was before he realized he didn’t have a genetic disposition to cancer. Not like–
No. He’s probably over thinking.
“If you want, I can show you some stretches I usually do when my chronic pain flares up.”
Jay frowned, “Right now?”
He shrugged, “If you want.”
Jay looked to where Dick and the Bruces were pointing out the pros and cons of building a new interdimensional machine when time could just be moving differently across realities. “Yeah, sure, why not.”
They moved towards the mats, where they started with basic standing stretches– hands to toes, heel to glutes, knee to chest– then the sitting ones– sit and reach, one while flexing their ankles and the other while pointing their toes.
Then Jason instructed Jay to go on his knees for child's pose. A crackle came from Jay’s knee, as his eyes widened and he immediately shifted his weight to extend his leg in front of him.
That… that wasn’t the pop of joints letting out an air bubble. That was the sound of a bone breaking.
But that was nothing– bones don’t break just by putting weight on them.
Unless…
The weight loss, the exhaustion, the fevers, the bone pains–
‘I’m really sick’ ‘I can’t– not like Mami’ ‘she wasn’t your mom’ ‘growing wrong sucks’
He opened his mouth to call for Bruce, but a hand was suddenly clamped over it, “I’ll explain in the medbay?”
Jason hoisted Jay to his feet as gently as possible, while still being firm about it, closing the medbay doors behind them and hoisting Jay up onto the cot, “How long?”
Jay tilted his head, “Has anyone ever told you that you look a lot like Papi when you’re worried.”
“And you look just like Mami when she was sick.” he spat back, “Jesus, kid, how long has your damn knee been hurting?”
“I dunno…”
Jason crossed his arms, “You don’t know.”
“Ok fine. February.” He grimaced, “Maybe at the end of January.”
‘I have no wit, no words, no tears; My heart within me like a stone’
Jason felt the blood drain from his face, “That was two and a half months ago.”
“I didn’t think it was that bad until–” Jay looked at his knee and mumbled, “Until you read to me when I had the first fever.”
“Ok.” He took in a deep breath, trying to keep himself from yelling, “Ok. You’ve still had about a month to tell Bruce or Alfred.”
“Well I’m so sorry that telling someone felt like it made this all real!”
“Ignoring a tumor doesn’t make it magically disappear!”
‘Is numb'd too much for hopes or fears; Look right, look left, I dwell alone;’
Jay immediately shrunk at the words, “Well, we both could just be over thinking.”
“You know who’s great at looking at just the facts?” Jason went to open the door, “Bruce!”
“Wait, wait, wait! I just– I’ll tell him, but please , just let me do it on my own time. Please.”
Just then, Younger Bruce and Older Bruce rushed in, “What’s going on?”
Jason opened his mouth to just tell them. It would be the responsible thing to do.
‘I lift mine eyes, but dimm'd with grief; No everlasting hills I see;’
But then he looked at Jay. Whose eyes were begging him to keep this one secret. Whose eyes were carbon copies of Mami’s.
Jay practically collapsed in relief, “I, uh, dislocated my knee, but don’t worry! Jason set it back in place…”
Younger Bruce’s concern deepened, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It… happened six minutes ago.”
It’s only been six minutes? He feels like it’s been six months. He feels like he’s gone sixteen years in the past.
Bruce turned to Jason, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He was up in his face, he was miles away. He looked back to Jay who was saying something, but Jason couldn’t make it out.
Older Bruce frowned, “Jason, are you alright?”
‘My life is in the falling leaf:’
He held eye contact with Jay. For a millisecond? For an eternity? Why wasn’t the kid answering the question? He was the one who wasn’t ok. He was the one who was sick– who had cancer. It was going to slowly grow and grow until it metastasized and killed him just like–
No, she died from the lack of proper care, and fentanyl and Bruce had enough money to get Jay proper care if he just told him .
A hand brushed against his elbow, and he pulled away. He headed towards the drawer with the knee braces, pulled out one of the hinged braces, found a pair of crutches and placed them all on the cot where Jay was sitting.
‘O Jesus, quicken me.’
Then he left.
#jason todd#batman#batfam#dc comics#red hood#dick grayson#bruce wayne#tim drake#stephanie brown#robin jason todd#alternate universe#dimensional travel
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I bet Sausage keeps a diary. I bet he writes down everything he can remember. Not necessarily big events, like Xornoth’s arrival or the apocalypse, but simple. . . things. Like that Gem had a few more freckles on her right cheek than her left, or that fWhip kept an emergency sewing kit in his inner jacket pocket for when his clothes got caught on machinery. That Jimmy had a little gap between his front teeth, and Pearl’s favorite battle scar was the one just above her left shoulder. He keeps track of every detail he can recall and then he rereads them. Repeating them to himself nightly, in whispers that one might mistake for a prayer, so he won’t forget.
It’s easy to forget. Too easy. Sometimes he worries that maybe Jimmy’s eyes weren’t actually hazel, except under the sunlight when they lit up with the most brilliant flecks of gold. Perhaps Gem’s favorite color wasn’t secretly red, which she’d always lie about and say “purple, if you couldn’t tell” when people asked. He might just be reinforcing things his mind made up. But he can’t really check anymore, can he? He hopes his friends won’t be too offended if he accidentally gets some things wrong. But they can’t exactly object, can they?
It’s been. . . one hundred? One thousand? The years are the one thing he’s stopped keeping track of. He knows it’s been a very long time though. Long enough that not even ruins of their homes remain. It’s just dirt. Not the dirt he remembers, which he does remember oh so vividly. It’s new, fresh dirt. Dirt that doesn’t remember the craters left by fWhip’s explosives, or the uprooting vines of Xornoth’s corruption, or the blood and bones of his friends.
It’s just dirt. It doesn’t remember like him. It doesn’t even remember him. But that’s okay, because he’ll remember for it. He’ll remember everything, because his memories are the proof that they were here. That they’re still here, with him, somehow. He’s not sure how, but that doesn’t matter, because as long as he remembers, remembers the way Joey’s smile was a little crooked, or how Shrub always cooked her favorite stew a little too long because she liked it tough. That Kathrine twirled her hair when she was nervous, and that Lizzie’s scales were never quite the same color twice. How Joel wore a bracelet instead of a ring after Lizzie transformed because she felt so bad that they didn’t fit her fingers anymore, and that Scott never admitted that he memorized everyone’s favorite wool color so he’d know what to use when he sent gifts, and that Pixlriffs’ cloaks were always a size or two too big so he could shelter people in case the desert winds kicked up without warning.
And he knows that if he can remember them, that means they’re still here. It means they’re still with him.
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[Reaction to this post] - [Lady Ombre belongs to @ask-noonescity]
Alts have been added for smaller text.
Silas pulled his hand away in response, he wasn't expecting rebellion towards his threats, especially one he said with such confidence. The sudden physical contact made him cringe, despite his face being hidden his body language made it obvious he felt discomfort at being touched.
He didn't like that, not one bit, her lack of fear was unnerving and the sinister grin she gave made his skin crawl. It felt like the power and advantage he had over her was suddenly pulled out from underneath him. He didn't have control over the situation anymore and that terrified him.
As she leered back everything in his body was screaming at him to run, yet just as before when faced with something much scarier than himself he froze like a deer in headlights. He didn't know how to react, he didn't know what to do and he was so confused by the situation he didn't even realize the unexpected stinging pain that was quickly starting to dig into his fur.
It was only when he felt his mask finally beginning to slip that his panic and self-preservation finally kicked in.
"Please stop-!" Silas yelped out in fear, his claws were franticly clawing at the vines but he did little damage to them. It was like all his efforts to escape meant nothing to her, he felt so helpless and scared. Of course, he would die this way, a victim to his own stupidity.
His breathing quickly spiralled out of control as he felt the vines begin to tighten, he didn't like this. It all felt so sickeningly familiar to him, the pressure around his neck, the way he gasped for air and panicked, it was all much too close to something from his past. This had happened before? Hadn't it? This was something he was acquainted with, something he knew well. She always did this to him, just another punishment on the long list.
And for some reason, everything in his mind couldn't stop him from melting back into those moments. She was here again, wasn't she? Back from the grave to torment him? Despite everything he knew, every logical thought denying her existence in the present he couldn't shake the thought.
In one last ditch effort to ease his anxiety, he opened his eyes... But that only gave him a passing glance of a face he knew well.
Lady Ombre was truly gone, her words falling on deaf ears as she lectured the fox. All that replaced her was the terrifying memory of a ghost here to hurt him once more.
Silas franticly kicked and squirmed in the air, his tiny paws were desperately attempting to tear at the magical energy around his neck. Seance merely looked on in annoyance.
"What are you good for if not? You really don't know how to do anything, do you?" Seance scoffed, her magic was slowly tightening around the fox's neck more. Her grip easily constricted his airway. "I asked you to kill... one person." She held a singular claw up as the tiny Giratina spirit drifted around her, "But you couldn't even do that little fox, could you?"
"Why do I even ask you to do things, what are you worried they're going to hurt you?" She laughed as Silas struggled. "You should be more scared of me than some stranger, did you not learn what happens when you don't listen? Was the tail not enough? Do you need another reminder?"
"What's next, Hm..." The ghost hummed, pacing around the fox in thought. "How about an ear, or maybe." She suddenly grinned as her eyes darted back to him. "An eye? Oh, you'd love that, wouldn't you? Every time you'd open your little eyes and realize you can't quite see the whole picture, you'll remember me and think about how much you should have listened... How does that sound, hm? Or I could finally just kill you?"
Silas frantically shook his head in reply, the air he was able to breathe in was getting more scarce by the second. "You're right. That'd be too merciful, someone as horrible as you doesn't deserve mercy." With the last bits of air he could get the fox gave a broken plead.
"Ugh, Seriously?" She groaned.
Silas hit the ground with a loud thud, the sudden allowance of air instantly threw him into a coughing fit. Seance however just stared down in irritation, her ears twitching with every sharp cough. "Are you fucking done now?"She asked in irritation, she obviously felt no remorse for her actions.
"Stop the dramatic coughing fit, you're not getting any sympathy from me. You want sympathy then why don't you crawl your way back to your human, hm?"
"I'm sure she's stupid enough to reward your misbehaviour with pets and kisses. You always did like being a little pampered pet, didn't you? Having a soft bed and food in your bowl~" She mocked. "Disgusting really, you pets are all the same." Silas only continued to cough before he made a weak effort to stand.
He only looked down in shame, despite her scolding, tears quickly began to fill his eyes. But there was no sadness, no emotion to go along with them all he felt was a disconnect from his surroundings as he drifted back into reality.
[ . . . ]
It seemed Lady had let go of him long ago, but he was too stuck in his head to have noticed. He only sat there in silence as his hand cautiously wandered to the place where the vines were. The presence of pressure still lingered even if the vines were no longer there. He seemed confused, unsure why Lady Ombre didn't simply kill him when she had the chance.
Just as she left the fox made a frantic scramble for his mask. Tears were beginning to well up in his eyes, all he could mutter out was faint repetitive apologies as he shakily took the kitsune mask in hand.
Once he felt it in his hands a faint calmness washed over him...
He took a long moment to stare at it in silence. His claw was gently scratching at the smooth surface of the mask, a feeble attempt to help ground himself in the present day. He still seemed extremely shaken up from the interaction with her. His hands were unintentionally trembling, and he couldn't stop his tears from worsening as moments passed.
He was so tired of this, he was so tired of showing weakness and letting strangers have power over him. He was getting so tired of people treating him badly, pushing him around, finding new ways to get under his skin and bring him to the pathetic tears he struggled to hide.
"Everything is fine..." He muttered before he finally flipped the mask, completely set on using it to conceal any leftover tears.
"Why do I always do such stupid things…"
-> Oh? What's this? Seems Silas will remember this interaction. Lady Ombre has been added to the relationships page.
-> Silas has been... slightly injured and will have minor scratches going forward.
#long post#No need to read this Its just cushion for story✨#tni: chrono#tni: silas rune#tni: seance#gif#tw: child abuse#tw: abuse#tw: flashing gif#Ah there it is! The one thing you should never do to Silas: physical contact with a side of aggression 😅#Dude has so much trauma stored in him✨#*coughs*#Someone better get him a: “So you might have [insert 50 different random headcanons]?” brochure before he blames it on being...#Pathetic (tm) again /lh#Im probs asleep rn this is queue buuuutt#ill post a cute lil palate cleanser in a bit here 🎶 Its even got some North and Wisteriaaaa innnn itttt!#Chapter 1: The Introduction#tni: little fox
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here's to one whole year of suffering from steddie brainrot! does that mean it's permanent if you reach the one-year hyperfixation mark?
"You realise it's been a year, right?" Eddie says, breaking the silence as they look out over the trailer park, now situated one clearing over from the former Forest Hills park, "A year since we met?"
Steve huffs a laugh and leans forward so that Eddie has no choice but to look at his frown.
"Dude, we met way before last year."
Eddie shrugs and takes a puff on his cigarette, "You know what I mean."
Steve hums and shuffles close so he can rest his head on his shoulder, "It's been a long year."
"With me?" he chuckles.
"No!" Steve practically yells in protest, his voice echoing out into the night, "You know what I mean."
Duh. Of course, he does. They both have the nightmares, migraines, permanent scars (some of which match) and the back pain of senior citizens to prove that, hell yes, it has been a long goddamn year.
He takes one last drag before stubbing out his cigarette - an activity he probably shouldn't even be partaking in anymore considering.
Steve coughs, or more, splutters as he tries to unsuccessfully cover it up. Despite it being Spring, a hellhole opening up for a while kinda totally changed the climate of Hawkins. It still feels like Winter and Steve, now a sniffly and sickly dude after a few bats to the guts and an undead vine to the neck, is on the precipice of a cold.
As if on cue, Wayne opens the front door. Eddie swears the old man has developed superhuman hearing this past year as he frets over the two of them.
Jesus, Steve was already living here with Wayne before Eddie was even discharged from the hospital. His uncle hadn't said much at the time but a clipped, "The kid said his parents aren't around" said enough that yes, Eddie will drag Steve back inside if he asks.
"You boys better come in," he insists.
Eddie doesn't remember much of when he first came to live with his uncle. It was all so rushed and he was so overwhelmed with what had happened with his own parents, but he imagines Wayne's boarding-on-overbearing care for Steve resembles that time.
Jesus, Steve was already living here with Wayne before Eddie was even discharged from the hospital. His uncle hadn't said much at the time but a clipped, "The kid said his parents aren't around" said enough that yes, Eddie will drag Steve back inside if he asks.
Wayne lingers as Eddie grips Steve's arm tight and pulls him up off the warn couch. His uncle nods affirmatively as they squish past to step inside and he closes the door behind him.
Steve twirls around under Eddie's arm, bending it awkwardly in a way that makes him grimace - he should really warn a guy!
"Maybe we better go do something, to celebrate?" he suggests, huffing his fringe from his eyes.
He blinks hard. That movement, no matter how cute and fleeting, very obviously made Steve dizzy. Eddie places his hands on his hips to steady him and guides him to his designated spot, the third chair, at the square dining table.
Wayne resumes his seat in his recliner, lounging back with a loud contended, "ah". Eddie looks at the television and rolls his eyes. Tagging along to watch a rerun of Columbo - part of what he likes to refer to as 'Old Man Hour', which also features Get Smart and Hogan's Heroes - doesn't seem particularly romantic.
And, judging by the glint in Steve's pretty eyes, he's expecting as much. Eddie outstretches his hand.
"Wayne?" he calls over his shoulder as he wiggles his fingers, "Steve and I are going out for our one-year anniversary."
"Alrighty," Wayne mumbles, "Wear a coat."
His voice is almost drowned-out as Peter Falk, oh-so-witty in his trenchcoat, quips, "Oh, and just one more thing!"
"Eds," Steve laughs as he scrubs a hand over his face, "It isn't our one-year anniversary either. That's in like, maybe three weeks?"
"You don't know our anniversary?" he teases, knowing they are going to get absolutely nowhere like this.
But it's fun.
He moves his fingers up Steve's arm, crawling and tickling him like a spider.
"Not sure of the exact date, actually," Steve admits, flinching away from his touch abruptly enough that his chair scuffs on the linoleum, "We haven't really talked about it."
Eddie waves his hands as if he's a magician giving a dramatic ta-da! reveal as he sings, "Problem solved, neither of us know for sure. So today it is."
Steve slowly nods, a wide grin sweeping across his face. He dips his head in acknowledgement.
"Happy one-year anniversary of you shoving a broken bottle in my face."
He stops mid-invisible toast to shriek, "You were going to attack me with a boat oar!"
"What happened?" Wayne asks as his chair creaks forward.
The footrest snaps back into place, making the pair jump.
#have something half-serious half-stoopid#also i'm just obsessed with what wayne watches on tv - i swear its the only 80s details i write all the time#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie ficlet#steve x eddie#lilys ficlets#stranger things s4#steddie anniversary#wayne munson#steddie headcanon#healing steddie
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leo-aquarius axis🧞♂️
ohhh I love axis’s and opposites discussions!! for me, every axis is like a scale of two opposite colors of the same thing, two opposite shades of one quality. it represents the dual quality of everything and how life isn’t about something one, but rather about balance ✨
leo is about personal identity, about ego, about self, about here and now. aquarius is, on the contrary, about humanity as a whole, about non-humanity and about future. one is passionate and warm, the other is rather spaced out and detached. one is full of energy, the other one is pure rationality. however, if we zoom out a bit, we can notice that those two are the poles of the same magnet, gravitating to each other wishing for fulfillment of their deep core desire: desire for acceptance
I will repeat myself: both of those signs desire the same thing - to be recognized and accepted as they are.
leo desperately tries to build the identity for ppl so that the world will notice and recognize them, however, by gathering more and more ppl around they are pursuing only one thing: to find somebody that will accept them the way they are, without them putting on glittery and fun persona, without them trying their hardest to bring others warmth and excitement in their daily lives. leo is the artist in the spotlight, signing their soul out hoping that there’s at least one person that fully understands and accepts them
💭nb: I’ve remembered that one episode of Rick and Morty, where Rick turned himself into a child and on the surface was having the time of his life, hanging out with teenagers and singing songs that everybody around was just vining to. but the song he was signing contained lyrics “let me out, this is not a dance! I’m screaming for help, please, let me out!” bc his real body was actually dying each second he spent in the kid body. and around everybody else just vining to the song and saying how cool Rick is, there was only Morty, that actually listened and tried to save him. this episode, imo, is a great illustration for how leo would go about finding and acceptance and recognition
aquarius, on the other hand, is someone that is so accepting of others and so much universe-oriented that they can loose their sense of self. who they are as a single person, as a human soul? aquarians are walking around there looking for bits of their identity and trying to rationally built it bit by bit. they have a really hard time bc they can loose themselves to a point where nothing seems real anymore (“does anything exist? do even I exist, or am I someone else’s hallucination, or a side effect of some cosmic glitch?”). aquas desire for acceptance and understanding is more about: “please, take my hand and tell me I’m real, I’m a human being and I exist”. they look for someone that would prove and validate their own existence.
and here we have two opposites of one axis: one is so human to a point they give themselves out completely to others, and the other one is so detached they don’t believe they’re real anymore. however, if we put these two together, each of them will get one they desire most: leo will finally feel heard, accepted and validated no matter how weird and unacceptable they may have felt, and aqua will finally feel like a real human being, covered in warmth and authenticity of leo’s aura.
and I think it’s beautiful💫
#ascendant#astro community#astro observations#astro posts#astroblr#astrology#natal astrology#astro placements#astrology notes#compatibility astrology#leo horoscope#leo#leo rising#aquarius#aquarius rising#synastry#relationship astrology#astro notes
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When a neighbouring kingdom of Scythia begs for aid in the impending war, Prince Lucien is forced into a marriage with its princess.
He doesn't expect to fall for her handmaiden instead.
Pairing: Elain x Lucien
Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, blood and injury; Eventual smut
Tags: Alternate Universe, Forbidden Romance, Angst, Pining, Forced Proximity, and everything else that makes two characters Go Insane, Complete disregard of the canon world map, More Tags on AO3
Chapter 1 || Fic Masterlist || AO3
Chapter II
Over his time as emissary, Lucien had visited too many kingdoms to remember all their names. He probably should have—and something told him his tutors back home would be inclined to agree. Despite this, every time Lucien was sent to the foreign lands—on the continent or across the sea— he found himself too preoccupied exploring their beauty to bother memorising the Old Language on worn out, tawny maps.
As a consequence, he’d had the opportunity to witness thousands of sunsets. Had seen the sun disappear over snowy mountains, over rolling green hills, over seas of a blue so deep they nearly bled black. Each time, it painted the skies with the brightest hues of crimson and a fiery orange until they faded into a dusky lilac and a murky grey. It was a ritual of some sort—the sun descending into slumber, letting the world breathe in the night until it was time to marvel at its light again.
They had all been beautiful—all breathtaking in their own way. And yet, even after a decade of travelling, after seeing the kind of sunsets every corner of the world seemed to offer, Lucien still thought none of them could compare to Montesere. To the sunsets back home.
Especially today—today, when the sun remained hanging over the horizon long after its time was due. As though it, too, wanted to play a part in the ceremony until its very end. As thought it, too, wanted to offer him a gift of its own.
Indeed, its golden light illuminated the altar with a quiet kind of reverence, soft and glistening and eternal.
How strange, that word—eternity. A life without end. The libraries in Montesere housed ancient scrolls that told of a time when such thing had been possible—common, even, with immortal creatures roaming those same lands his family now ruled. Creatures with magic, strong and powerful enough to keep Death itself at bay. Eternal.
But magic—if it truly did exist once upon a time—was long gone now, those scrolls the only reminder of what humanity had lost. A reminder no one seemed to heed anymore, not even the eldest, wisest of Montesere’s scholars.
And yet, Lucien still believed in eternity. How could he not—when it was walking right toward him, her pearl-white veil trailing after her steps.
Flowers seemed to bloom from under her feet, as though wherever she stood, life followed. Vines of orchid, nests of sunflowers, buds of roses, their gentle pink a reflection of the shade of her lips. She was life, draped in all the beauty it beheld.
A crown glistened atop her honey-brown hair, the golden spikes resembling rays of sunlight, tangled into her silken waves. It caught a glimpse of the sun, shining above the scene, and responded with a light of its own. This light—her light—was different, somehow. Warmer. It sank into his chest and make its home within it, burying itself deep inside his soul.
That, Lucien decided, was eternity. He would take her into his arms and never let go.
When she reached his side at last, her doe-like eyes bright beneath the lace of her veil as they landed on his, it took all the strength in his body to keep his hands still. A few more moments, and she would be his.
Her delicate fingers lifted the fabric, revealing a smile that could rival the most spectacular of Montesere’s sunsets.
Her lips parted as she spoke—and how he’d longed to hear the melody of her voice again.
“Wake up,” she said.
Lucien’s brows furrowed. What an odd thing to say.
“You never told me your name,” he countered, but his own voice was muffled now—as though the sound was coming from deep beneath the water.
She blinked, and her eyes shifted now—the brown, gentle like a fawn’s coat, now replaced by a cool, familiar mahogany.
“Wake up,” she repeated, her voice louder now, lower.
Lucien reached for her, but she was far away now, somewhere far above the waves that slowly swallowed him whole.
“Lucien!” she shouted.
Lucien opened his eyes.
“Morning, asshole,” someone threw at him.
The curtains whooshed open with a sharp sound, letting the blinding light pour in from outside. Lucien groaned, stuffing his face into the pillow.
“Leave me alone, Jurian.”
A loud scoff. “I wish I could,” his friend started, “but it seems that your betrothed requests your presence.”
Something in his tone stirred Lucien’s curiosity at last, and slowly, he pulled himself up, running a hand through the length of his hair. “And she sent you to tell me that?” His father must have placed at least a dozen of staff at Vassa’s disposal—Jurian included yes, but it seemed odd that of all of them, the princess had chosen the General of Montesere’s Grand Army as her errand boy.
That mahogany gaze narrowed on him, as if Jurian could tell exactly what Lucien was thinking about—and he said coolly, “Don’t even start.”
The corners of Lucien’s mouth ticked up. “Getting on your nerves, is she?” he teased. Something entirely selfish in his chest purred in delight at the thought—that he was not the only man the princess had opted to pull into her schemes.
“She is aggravating,” Jurian seethed. “Assign me to someone else.”
If only. “You’re my best General, you know,” Lucien reasoned, hoping the slice of praise would appease him. “And my best friend. There’s no one else I could trust more with the life of my…betrothed.” He still wasn’t sure how he felt about the word.
Jurian scoffed again—as if he could hear the tightness in his throat at that last word. “Now you care about her?”
Lucien only sighed.
“I don’t see why she needs a guard here, anyway,” his friend continued, more to himself now than Lucien. “The palace is safe, and she already has a small security team of her own.” He turned to the balcony, the soft rays of the morning light illuminating his face. As if trying to smooth out the anger creasing it. “Besides, she seems perfectly capable of handling herself without my input.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lucien questioned, his brows knotting.
“I’m just saying her words cut sharper than any blade I ever held.”
Of that, Lucien had no doubt. “She really is a pain, isn’t she.”
Jurian shot him a glare. “You have no idea.”
He didn’t, actually. The only time he’d spoken with the princess—the true princess—happened last night in the throne room, where he accused her of being a liar.
A wonderful start to his marriage, to be sure.
Jurian went on, “She commands me as if I was her gods-damned handmaiden.” Lucien stilled at the word. “Only an hour ago, she asked me to draw her a bath. A bath, Lucien.” He threw his arms up in exasperation. “She only let go until her actual handmaiden stepped in.”
Lucien asked carefully, “Did you manage to catch her name?”
The General turned to him at that. “The handmaiden? No,” he said, and Lucien’s shoulders sagged an inch. Jurian asked, “What was she like, anyway?”
“I…” Kind. Gentle like the first beams of dawn, shyly peering from beyond the horizon, eager to drape their warmth over the rest of the world. “I don’t know,” Lucien finally said.
Jurian sighed deeply. “You’re going to make a horrible husband, you know.”
Yes. He did.
***
“Don’t move,” Elain instructed, gathering the turquoise fabric in the palm of her hand. “I need to pin it down.”
Vassa loosed a heavy sigh, but she remained still, her gaze fixed on their reflection in the tall mirror resting against the wall. The polished wood contrasted the sandstone nicely, and Elain thought that whoever designed the chambers in this palace, they must have had a good eye for detail. Truthfully, everything in the Montesere palace looked nice. The intricate columns holding up the grand entrance and speckled with gold, the marble ornaments resting here and there in every hallway she passed, the open archways carved into some of the walls instead of real, glass windows. The climate here, it seemed, was warm enough to allow such experiments. Her own room hosted four of them, allowing the sun to wake her up on her first night with a warm kiss to her skin, filling her room with its golden light.
It was the gardens Elain liked most, though.
She didn’t let herself think about them. Her mind had slipped yesterday—for the barest of moments, yes, but she should not have allowed it anyway. She’d been given an order, and for many years now, Vassa had trusted her to comply. Elain would have hated to disappoint her now, on a mission of such critical importance for their country. For Scythia.
As if she’d somehow been able to read her thoughts in the steady move of Elain’s hands, Vassa willed her to meet her cerulean stare in the mirror, her reddish-golden hair shifting over her shoulder as she tilted her head in worry. “What’s bothering you?” she asked quietly.
Elain only hummed, dipping more pins into the silks of Vassa’s gown. “Nothing. Your Highness,” she added.
Vassa rolled her eyes. “Very funny.”
“What is?” Elain asked innocently.
The princess huffed. “You haven’t called me that in private since we were fourteen, I think.”
“If you missed the formalities so much, all you had to do was ask.”
Vassa smirked. “Someone’s feeling coltish today.”
With the final pin hidden deep within the shimmering fabric’s folds, Elain stepped back to admire her work. “Apologies,” she said, offering a mock of a curtsy as she met the princess’s eyes again. “Your Highness.”
“Stop it!” Vassa demanded, whipping on her feet to smack her arm gently. Elain laughed—she missed teasing her friend like that. Back home, tensions ran too high for them to allow such levity. Here, though—perhaps they deserved a moment of reprieve, even in the difficult circumstances.
Elain sighed, her chest suddenly heavy again. It seemed that even now, thousands of miles away from Scythia, her worries managed to catch up with her despite her best efforts.
So she finally told her, “It’s my sisters.” The weight on her heart only increased as she spoke the words out loud.
Understanding shone in Vassa’s gaze. “You’re worried about them,” she said, taking her hand in hers. Elain nodded.
“It makes me uneasy—to be so far away from them,” she explained quietly. “When all of this is happening.”
Vassa squeezed her hand lightly. “That’s why we’re here, aren’t we?”
Elain let out a shaky breath. She supposed they were.
“Shall we, then?” she asked, moving towards the door. They were running late already—the meeting was meant to take place one of the lower levels of the palace again, and with Vassa’s gown and endless stairs, it would take them ages to get there.
But Vassa made no move, something hesitant flashing over her freckled face as her eyes darted to the door.
Elain stopped in her tracks. “Are you alright?” If they didn’t make haste, they really would be late—and considering who was going to be in attendance, she was surprised Vassa had requested her help so late in the morning. It wasn’t like the princess to falter at the last minute.
“Go ahead,” her friend said slowly, still not meeting her gaze. “I will join you in a moment.”
Elain angled her head. “Are you…sure?”
Her tone must have been too questioning, because Vassa’s cerulean eyes flickered back to her. “I am—the…security team advised me not to leave my chambers without escort.”
Elain’s brows furrowed. “We’ve been assured the palace is perfectly safe.”
A sigh. “Still,” Vassa said, something like a grimace shadowing her pretty features. “The insufferable general insists that he has orders.”
Elain couldn’t help but bite back a smile. “I will see you in the drawing room.”
***
Lucien tapped his fingers on the table. Then again. And again.
Jurian had left for Vassa’s more than ten minutes ago, cursing him and the entire Spell Cleaver bloodline under his breath. I’ve endured torture better than this, he’d told Lucien. One more day following her around, and I swear I will desert the army—
Lucien only grinned, closing the door shut behind him.
But now, the door opened again, and Lucien immediately rose to his feet, readying his battle stance for what was sure about to be an afternoon of bickering. Deep down, something told him that with the way their relationship had begun, convincing Vassa to break their engagement was going to prove more difficult than he’d thought.
It wasn’t Vassa who now stood in the doorway, though.
It was her.
Lucien froze into place.
“It’s you.”
“I—” she hurried into the room, the two guards behind her shutting it with a quiet click. Those shining eyes flickered to his for a split second before falling to the floor as she curtsied. “Your Highness,” the handmaiden said. “Forgive me—Princess Vassa has sent me to inform you she will be joining you shortly.”
So she was late. Somehow, Lucien didn’t care anymore.
When she straightened, her hair caught a glimpse of the sunlight, just as it had in his dream. Lucien found that his breath had been briefly knocked out of his chest at the sight—at the thin border of light enveloping her silhouette, as though the sun itself was trying to hug her with its warm touch.
Gods, she was beautiful. Not in the way he’d been used to—the polished perfection all ladies of the court had mastered. No, there was something about her he’d never seen before, a body calling out for light, and willing to take it no matter how bright it burned.
“Was it her idea, or yours?” he found himself asking, his voice strained.
It wasn’t real.
She wasn’t the Princess—the one he was supposed to marry.
“Pardon?” she questioned, surprise briefly taking hold of that trained formality in her tone.
Lucien swallowed. “The switch—did Vassa ask you to do it?” Damn his pride, but he had to know.
Her gaze locked on his again—and held, showing no signs of remorse as she surveyed him. “She did,” she finally said.
“I see.”
“However,” she pressed. “If she hadn’t, I would have suggested it to her either way.” She cocked her head to the side, the silken sheet of her hair glistening again as she added, “For the Princess’s own protection, if nothing else.”
“She’s safe here.” He noticed he’d taken a step closer toward her without realising. “As are you.”
“We couldn’t know that,” she argued. “You haven’t seen it—the full scope of the threat against us. Back…back in Scythia, there had been two attempts on Vassa’s life already.” Lucien stilled—no one had told him. “If it hadn’t been me taking her place, things might have ended very differently. Instead, by the time they realised who I truly was, the guards had already arrived.”
His mind began to race. “You would risk your life for her in such a way?”
Her brows knitted, as though the answer were obvious. “Of course I would.”
“So you’ve—” he couldn’t wrap his head around it. “You have done this before. Acted as Vassa’s decoy.”
It wasn’t that additional protection was unusual—Jurian had been assigned to his side too many times he could count—but to actually become the Princess, to devote everything into keeping the deception alive…
Just how much had she sacrificed for it?
She nodded. “Many times, in fact. In large gatherings, mostly, where no one could see my face—we look nothing alike.”
Indeed they did not. Their height, perhaps, was the only thing the princess and her handmaiden shared in common.
She spoke again. “I won’t apologise, Your Highness—not for this. But…” she hesitated. “I did want to thank you.”
That, Lucien did not expect. “Whatever for?”
She pulled her lip between her teeth, then quickly released it, as if realising the evidence she’d just displayed of her nerves.
“The gardens,” she finally told him. “I wasn’t lying yesterday, not—not entirely. My garden in Scythia… I left it behind to come here.” Her gaze fell again. “It was lovely to see life blooming on these lands for a change.”
I used to garden back home.
He remembered it clear as day—the pain in her voice, the anguish.
Tell me what it’s like for you there, he’d told her then.
“Perhaps…” he began, his breath still tight in his chest as her eyes darted back to his—as if she, too, was thinking about the shred of conversation they’d stolen yesterday. “Perhaps I could show you more—a stroll…”
The door swung open, and they both flinched.
A flash of turquoise appeared, red hair draping over it, and Vassa came into view. A second later, Jurian followed suit, something like exasperation in his features as he drilled his dark eyes into the back of the princess’s head.
“Ah. There you are,” Vassa said—to him, Lucien realised. She nodded to her right where her aide stood. “Thank you, Elain. I do hope Prince Lucien’s company was pleasant enough in my absence.”
A jab at him, no doubt—but Lucien was no longer listening.
Elain.
He fought the overwhelming urge to taste the name on his tongue. To see how the sound would lilt as he spoke it, a sweet, honeyed melody.
Somewhere, in a place far away from Lucien’s, Jurian cleared his throat.
The world snapped back into place. “Princess Vassa.” He bowed deeply. “You look radiant this morning.”
Her brows rose. “I thought you’d still be angry with me—after yesterday.”
From the corner of his eye, he caught Elain’s glance.
“Let’s put it behind us,” he said, forcing a breath into his lungs. “I believe there are more…important matters to discuss.”
Vassa surveyed him for a moment—before nodding her agreement at last. “Indeed.”
As if on command, the door opened again, two guards standing on their opposite sides as another figure entered.
Everyone in the room—Lucien and Vassa included—inclined their heads, Jurian bowing at the waist as Elain offered a low curtsy.
“Your Majesty,” they both said.
“Good morning,” the Queen smiled, her russet eyes shining as they scanned over the room.
“Mother?” Lucien asked, confusion creasing his features.
“Princess Vassa was gracious enough to include me in the wedding preparations,” she explained, gesturing to the table at the centre of the room. They all took their seats, with only Jurian opting to remain at the door, his gaze fixed on Vassa’s back. “We don’t have much time, after all.”
“Just how much time are we talking?” Lucien asked, already dreading the answer.
Vassa said, “We were thinking a month from today.”
His mouth went dry. “Isn’t that a little too soon?”
A month—a month before he would be married, his entire life planned out for him.
The Queen leaned back in her seat. “It should give us enough time to invite the necessary dignitaries—not to mention to celebrations we must put in place throughout the country prior to the event.” She offered them another, warm smile. “This is a joyous occasion, and the people will want to play a part in it.”
A joyous occasion—for everyone but them. Just how badly did Vassa want this marriage? Lucien doubted she had any love for him—gods, she probably didn’t even like him—was it possible, then, that, despite being a princess, she had also been secretly hoping to find another alternative? It was rare, for people like them to marry for things other than political arrangements—but it did happen. His own parents, for one—their marriage had been build on love, and one so strong it had not only persevered over the years, but grown stronger. Lucien had witnessed it with his own eyes—was it truly wrong of him to hope for a similar future himself?
But then Vassa said, “Not to mention, the longer we wait, the more time we give our enemies to plan their attack on Scythia.” Her throat bobbed slightly. “I cannot risk it—not while there is so much at stake.”
Lucien went rigid in his chair.
Vassa added quietly, “They’ve already taken my mother from me—I won’t let them take anything more.”
He’d forgotten—had selfishly forgotten that this marriage was not just about the two of them, about some insignificant political benefit. There was war looming over the continent, a threat to both Vassa’s people and his own. Could he really afford to ignore it over a chance at love in the future?
Perhaps he could learn to love Vassa one day. Her determination was admirable—she, for one, recognised her duty and did not shy away from it.
Shame washed over him all over again, so familiar to what he’d felt when talking to his mother yesterday. He’d failed again—had prioritised his own life over his kingdom, the very place the people had entrusted in the hands of his family. And for what?
Elain had spoken of caring for those they loved. And, above all else, Lucien loved his country.
Defeating Rask before it truly rose to power would certainly be one way of caring for it.
“We were saddened to hear the news, Princess,” he heard his mother say. Please, accept our most heartfelt condolences. I’ve only met your mother once—but I know she would be proud to see the sacrifice you’re making for your people.”
Vassa only nodded, that quiet darkness he’d quickly learned to recognise clouding her features again.
So Lucien said, “Beron Vanserra will pay for this. He will not hurt you or your people ever again.”
Vassa looked at him—truly looked at him—and her shoulders fell with relief.
His mother’s eyes flashed with pride. “Let us continue, then.”
***
“Elain,” Vassa pressed. “It’s alright—I mean it.”
“Perhaps I could—”
Vassa sighed, the suffering sound cutting Elain off. “Take the night off—please. You deserve some rest, and I was going to get some sleep anyway.”
Elain chewed on her bottom lip. “Are you sure?” She could use some time to herself, truth be told.
Something twinkled in the princess’s gaze. “Are you going to make me formally dismiss you?”
Elain rolled her eyes. “Fine, Your Highness.” She sketched a curtsy, a real one this time, so that her friend would know—know that princess or not, whatever Vassa had come here to do, Elain would stand by her until the very end.
Vassa nodded, understanding as she always did, her own eyes now lined with a trace of silver.
When Elain exited the chambers, she nearly walked into something tall—something hard.
“Gods,” she breathed, stumbling back. Her eyes widened as she understood it was the General she’d almost bumped into, standing guard at Vassa’s door. “I am so sorry.”
He shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry for, Lady Elain.”
“Oh, please—just call me Elain,” she said, offering him a small smile. “You are Jurian, yes? The King’s General?”
He nodded.
“Well,” Elain said. “The Princess has retired for the rest of the night. If you’d like to take the evening off, please do—”
“It’s quite alright, Elain,” Jurian interjected. “My post is here.”
“I see.” Something told her there was no arguing with this one. “Well…I will see you later tonight, I suppose.”
His dark brows knotted over his watchful stare. “Do you require a guard to accompany you?”
Gods, no.
“That won’t be necessary,” she told him, forcing a smile. “I’ll be back soon.”
He glanced at Vassa’s door. “How soon, if I may ask?”
Elain frowned. “I…” Did it matter? He wasn’t her guard—perhaps they did things differently in Montesere. “I’m not sure.”
Jurian cleared his throat. “The palace is secure, but please remain on alert.”
And with that, he simply stared off into the distance again.
Maybe she really did need a break.
This was a strange place—a beautiful one, but new nonetheless, and right now, Elain needed something familiar. Something to ground her—to remind her of what she came here to do. And so, without another thought, she made her way to the gardens.
She found them already occupied.
“Your Highness,” Elain gasped, stopping a few feet from the shadowed figure overlooking the sparkling fountain at the very centre. “I’m sorry, I’ll—”
He turned to her then—and, Gods, she wished he hadn’t.
Prince Lucien was so ridiculously beautiful Elain wanted to claw at her own skin. She’d seen many noblemen in her service as handmaiden to the Princess—but none of them had even come close. There was something about him that her very being called out to, a beacon pulling her in like a ship arriving at shore, a sunset reaching the horizon. Elain was curious about him—curious why the sound of his voice felt so pleasing to her ear she couldn’t seem to get enough of hearing it, why the lock of his gaze on hers shone so bright she felt as though she was standing under the morning sun. She stepped in closer, her feet gaining a mind of their own—when he opened his mouth.
“No, please—stay,” he told her, that rich, deep voice caressing something aching inside of her. “I’ll leave—I come here all the time. It’s only fair that you get to enjoy the view, too.”
And with that, he moved to brush past her, back into the palace.
For some reason, Elain couldn’t let that happen. “Well—” she started, and the Prince stopped in his tracks. “I…I don’t see why you couldn’t accompany me on a stroll, then? I could use a guide.”
She was an idiot. A guide—at nightfall, when there was nothing to see but the dark silhouettes of neatly trimmed bushes, an outline of a flower here and there. Pathetic.
She was going to tell him she changed her mind—that she was feeling tired, that Vassa needed her help in fetching her tea from the kitchens, anything, really, to get out of there before he noticed the burning flush of her cheeks.
But then, he spoke again.
“I’d like that.”
Elain let out a flat, uneven breath before joining his side.
“Your Highness—” she began as he led them on a gravelly path.
“Lucien.” He said, and she trembled slightly at the sound. She liked the way his name sounded on his tongue—she hadn’t dared to say it aloud herself. “It’s just as I told you yesterday—I’d prefer it if you simply called me by my name.”
She swallowed hard. “You did not tell me,” she quietly corrected. “You told princess Vassa.”
He stopped, staring at her—staring for a long, long time, and Elain began wondering if she’d overstepped. And then he said, “Then I suppose I have to tell you again.” He reached out a hand. “Lucien.”
Praying to the Gods that they kept her hand still, she slowly slipped it into his.
His golden-brown skin was deliciously warm as it enveloped hers. There was a gentle roughness to his palm, as though he’d bothered to spend years of his life training with a sword despite being a born dignitary. She began pondering over the possibility—when his hand wrapped around hers and brought her knuckles to his mouth.
She could’ve died then—died at the feel of his soft mouth on her skin. Perhaps she had, and this was the blissful eternity awaiting her as a result.
“Elain,” she said weakly, even though he already knew her name.
He nodded, keeping his hold on her for a second longer than necessary before it grew lighter, letting go of her hand at last. She’d almost whined at the loss of contact—the chill, nightly breeze replacing the warmth of his skin.
They began walking again. “It was a brave thing you did today,” Elain dared to say. “Lucien.”
His immaculate face turned to her again. “Whatever do you mean?”
“This arrangement isn’t easy on Vassa, either,” she explained. “But…she knows what must be done. For our people—the families we left behind.”
He considered for a moment, a hint of question in his russet gaze. “Do you have a family?”
Her chest tightened. “I have two sisters,” she said, her voice dropping slightly as she added, “I—I miss them.” She took a deep, deep breath, bracing herself for what needed to come next. “We lost our parents very young, they…” Gods, she was babbling now. “They’re all I have left in this world, and I’m worried—”
“Elain.” Lucien said, her name firm on his lips. “Your sisters—and so many other families, both in Scythia and here…we’ll keep them safe.” He willed her to meet his eyes once more. “I promise.”
Words failed her. That he understood—understood what this meant, this union…
She hated that it was needed—that her best friend, her only friend, had been forced into an arrangement that would leave her life impossible to control anymore. The fact that she was willing to go through it anyway—that both of them did—it meant…it meant everything to her. To so many others.
Her throat felt too tight to speak—so they just walked, the crunch of the gravel beneath their steps the only sound filling the space.
“I have a brother, you know,” Lucien confessed, breaking the silence. “Well. Half-brother, I suppose.”
Elain’s eyes widened, her mind racing as it searched for the remnants of her history lessons that she must have forgotten.
“You…do?”
He nodded. “Many people forget—here, at least. They remember in Rask,” he said, a tinge of bitterness to his tone. “His name is Eris—the heir to Beron Vanserra’s throne. He’s ten years older than me, and has red hair just like me and my mother.” His mouth tightened. “That’s about all I know about him.”
“You’ve never met,” Elain breathed.
Lucien shook his head. “I could never understand—the fear you feel for your sisters, the love. But…I think I know what you mean when you say you miss them. Even though I’m not sure how it’s even possible to miss something you’ve never had.”
His words rang in her ears, her heart, thrumming along to its rhythm—and Elain knew what to say now.
“When I miss my sisters,” she began slowly, her every word measured. “I imagine the three of us meeting—somewhere quiet, like a meadow. Doing nothing but enjoying each other’s company. Well—in our case, I suppose, the peace wouldn’t last very long. But that’s the beauty of it all, really.” She loosed a breath. “What I’m trying to say is—perhaps when…when all of this is over.” She looked to him again. “Perhaps the two of you could meet.”
Lucien blinked. Then blinked again, those eyes shining with something Elain couldn’t quite discern. She could only meet his gaze—answer it with her own, hoping it conveyed everything she needed him to know.
I understand you.
You’re not alone.
“It’s a very beautiful night,” she said.
“Yes,” Lucien’s voice was no more than a rasp. “It is.”
Will you meet me here again tomorrow? she wanted to ask. I want to talk to you again—to tell you all the things I’m too weak to say to you right now.
But tomorrow, another day would rise—and Lucien would meet with the Princess again, would discuss the guest list for their wedding, the flowers she wanted in her bouquet, her favourite flavour of cake.
Elain’s favourite cake was chocolate.
“You should bring Vassa here tomorrow,” she told him, her voice strained. “She would like it, I think.”
And with that, she turned around and made her way back to the palace.
Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @asnowfern @areyoudreaminof @readercacau @fieldofdaisiies @melting-houses-of-gold @octobers-veryown @selesera @addicted-to-nothing @wilde-knight @emily-gsh @thelovelymadone @corcracrow @darling-archeron @kingofsummer93 @panicatthenightcourt @vulpes-fennec
#elucien au#elucien#pro elucien#elucien fic#elucien fanfiction#elain x lucien#elain archeron#lucien vanserra#acotar fic#acotar#my writing
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How do you think alucard would react to a gen z humor? For example: would he enjoy tiktok and vine? Would he be confused by our memes? How would he react to our self-deprecating humor?
This will be a running theme in my fanficiton, so I'm all for this. Also, I am barely Gen Z, and continuously learn new slang from my students, so excuse the cringe 😅
In my personal opinion, Alucard very much gives supportive grandpa vibes.
He's happy to view whatever "KidToks", "YouViews", or "Bumblr" memes you shove in his face. He's not going to understand it, but he's happy to watch if it makes you smile.
He really loves BookTok for reading material when he's chillin in the dungeon, especially murder mysteries and modern fantasy.
When he first got a taste of your Vine-Vocab, he legit just thought that was the way you spoke.
Seras delivering you a birthday gift: "so you just gonna bring me a birthday gift on my birthday to my birthday party on my birthday with a birthday gift?"
Giving the Hellsing taskforce driving directions for their next mission: "Road work ahead? Uh, yeah, I sure hope it does."
Joining him in the shooting range for target practice: "Don't fuck with me! I have the power of God and anime on my side!"
When you eventually informed him it was from a dead meme-site that defined your generation, he was very impressed that you young-folk have such an extensive reference log to communicate with each other.
Like I said, grandpa vibes.
His favorite moments are when your Gen Z slang is directed at him. He has no idea what you're talking about, but he loves it cus it's you. You love it too, because you can use it to your advantage and flirt with him incognito.
"Alucard, I admire the 40s coat and sunhat drip, but it's a little camp these days. We really need to give you a glow up."
"I saw the footage from your last mission, and I have to say, you were an absolute snack. Totally bussin'."
"You high-key live in my head, rent-free, Alucard."
He enjoys your silly words. Such admirable youth.
But when it came to your self-deprecating humour, it was kind of 50/50 for him. He understands it with no issues, and as long as it wasn't too hurtful towards yourself, he thought it was hilarious.
"Sorry, demons! There’s no room inside me because I’m self-possessed." Hella relatable for him.
"I question my sanity a lot of times. Every now and then, it replies." He's like, "same."
You'd think he would enjoy it all, given his dark-humour streak. However, when you talk too poorly about yourself, it really puts a damper on his mood.
Even though he's a grandpa, we have to remember that Alucard is incredibly intelligent. So whenever you're shitting on yourself, he plays your game to his advantage.
You: "I'm the human equivalent of a typo."
Alucard: "But you'll always be my type."
Wait. What?
You: "If I remember correctly, the last time that I was someone’s type was when I was donating blood in the blood drive."
Alucard: "I had it for my dinner last week, it was one of the best bags I've ever drank."
Motherfucker. There more you try to put yourself down, the more creative he gets. It's like a ping-pong game of put-downs and affectionate counter-attacks.
You: "My life’s purpose is to be a cautionary tale for others."
Alucard: "I'll just have to be your happily-ever-after."
You: "I wouldn’t even settle for me, so why would you?"
Alucard: "Because we could be settling together in my coffin when we sleep."
You: "When I’m ready to sleep, I don’t bother checking if my foot is hanging off the end of my bed anymore. Come get me, demons."
Alucard: "Is that a proposition?"
You finally admit defeat, as your red cheeks and blood pressure could only handle so much.
Damn that sexy old man.
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