#when will twice drop a bad tt?? never

[wonjns]

helloo idk if you are the type of writer to do this but seeing how youve been posting ffs' since a while back now this makes me want to ask you hehe (cause of experience?)

so uh how do you plan out stories? like as a person myself ive never really find male reader stories that is in my style so i decided to make stories myself TT

i specifically want stories that are heavy in angst (thats why i said in the beginning if you are the correct writer for this). how are you able to plan out angsty stories? how long do you plan to write the introduction and when is a good time for the introduction to shift to the other parts? and when is the perfect time for the climax of the story?

you don't have to answer fully detailed if you don't really get what I mean TT but if you are able to include some few general tips then I'd appreciate that <3

and also sorry if this is kinda weird and time-consuming to ask 🥹🤞🏻

awhh hey there!! i feel so honored that you felt i was worthy to ask this LOL. im so happy to hear we’ll have another writing joining the ranks <3

im so sorry if i disappoint, but i rarely plan things out,, which is actually rlly bad if you plan on taking writing a little more seriously 😭

i’m not the best with the angst at all, i think i’ve only written it like once/twice and it was kinda bad each time — but i would say in terms of planning it out you would want to begin with identifying an inciting incident!! aka, figure out what you’d want your pain “problem/conflict” of the fic to be, and then decide how you want to introduce that problem, if that makes sense.

if we’re talking about timing, i would say my average fic follows a movie’s structure. i believe stories overall are received best when you use what i guess i call the “sandwich method” LMAO,, which is:

fluff > introduction of conflict > actual conflict > resolution > fluff

basically meaning i usually start my stories (the few that have plot 😭) off with good vibes, and then descend into the root of the issue, and then once your reader/character resolves the issue, it obviously ends in a happy ending lol.

however, every writer is different and every story is different which is what makes it so much fun!! considering you really like angst, you could start your story MID-conflict to be honest, which actually grabs the average reader’s attention much more often. whereas the climax of the story usually takes place near the ending. you could also explore sad endings!!

im not the most qualified to give this advice but i figured i’d just share my thought process a little bit!! i’ll have been writing for a year come the end of this month so i’m still pretty new & have lots to learn!!!

if anyone has any beneficial advice for our friend pls drop some comments :)) i wish you the best of luck writing and hope you fall in love with it <33

[cloudcay]

this girl ruined kpop for me in hs

ive been reflecting a lot of my past and who i am today and i would jus like to say that i think that a large reason as to why i got into kpop so late into the game is because of a girl from high school.

during orientation, i remember meeting this girl bc my friend and i were talking abt kpop i believe. but more so my friend had mentioned them and i asked a question abt it. this girl standing next us in line starts talking abt bts with us and thats where it begins. at the time, i remember her saying her nickname (she told us her 'korean' name and 'korean' nickname even tho she was hispanic, sorry i dont remember what specific hispanic) and having red flags begin to pop up.

since we were in the same program in school, we typically had at least one class together each year except for junior year. thank goodness bc our program class was a double class and we had been in so many classes at that point. anyways i digress. she would always bring up bts and twice!!

at the time of writing this i realized that she hella scarred twice for me but mommy jihyo rlly sold it for me after discovering them in 2020. whenever we were in class, she would always just randomly call my name and start doing twice dances like TT or cheer up, which unfortunately prompted me to absolutely hate on her and unfortunately see twice in a bad light. she was also obsessed with jk and would always 'pair' herself with him which at the time was extremely cringey to witness. overall, i wasnt a big fan of her and was stuck with her for four whole years and am so glad that i never see her at college.

prior to getting back into kpop, i originally got into it during my last year of middle school, but ultimately decided to drop it before i entered high school bc i figured i needed a clean slate when i started attending. (pls dont judge, i had just secured a group of friends who were going to hs with me and never had a real friend group before that. i was doing my best to fit in with them to keep in my life forever, but well only 3 of them remained with me and im so so so grateful for them).

anyways bringing us to today, where im pretty sure a lot of the reason that i got into kpop so late was bc a girl in hs who i thought was really cringey and generally not my vibe ruined it for me.

[stay4may]

im literally in shock???? talk that talk is tew good this is not okay?????????????

[simplysimpingsimp]

Hello I saw the dad!zenitsu request you did it was super good!

I really wanted to request something similar so can I get zenitsu playing with his daughter but she also gets struck by lighting (just like him) and her hair color changes to be the same color as his

Hiya creepercall28!! I’m so glad you enjoyed the dad Zenitsu request <3 this would be so interesting haha I’d definitely like this write this !! Thank you so much for sending in a request :D as always, I’m super sorry for any mistakes and I’ll gladly go back to fix them <3 enjoy !! I’m also sorry this one wasn’t too much of a reader insert TT! I will gladly go back and change that if you’d like me to, it’s no problem at all !

🌻—————————————————————🌻

🌻𝙻𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙲𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎

𑁍 𝙳𝚊𝚍 𝚉𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚜𝚞 𝚂𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚘

𑁍 𝚃𝚆: 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚎

𑁍 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜: 𝚜𝚑𝚎/𝚑𝚎𝚛

𑁍 𝙼𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗 𝙰𝚄

🌻—————————————————————🌻

“Papa papa! Can we play out in the rain?!” His little daughter spoke excitedly as she tugged the sleeve of his shirt, urging him to go out.

Rainy times had been her favorite since the first time her parents had taken her out to splash about the puddles and to watch the snails race along the pavement of the sidewalk.

Golden eyes looked out the window with worry and slight fear as weather reports were indicating the potential of lightning and thunder storms occurring throughout the day.

“I don’t know sweetie,” his voice was filled with worry, his heart beating quickly at the sight of his daughter’s pouting expression before it became a smile from feeling her father’s head pats, “Okay..just for a little bit.”

She cheered happily before running to her room, (Y/n) peeking from the kitchen with a soft smile.

“Just be careful out there,” she spoke to Zenitsu in a softly stern voice, “And call me if something happens!” Her voice retreating as she went back into the kitchen.

He got ready by putting on a bright yellow rain coat and boats, shuffling on towards the door with immense fear as he recalled the time he got struck by lightning.

Surely that wouldn’t happen again. There’s no way he would have that much bad luck that he would get struck twice. He shivered at the memory before touching a tress of his blond hair.

His little daughter came running towards the door, dressed in her pastel pink raincoat and boats with the hood over her head.

“Ready?” He looked down at his daughter with a worried smile on his face.

She nodded vigorously with a bright smile on her face as they headed out the wooden door of their home.

Rain came down from the sky in large droplets and clouds of grey blocking the sight of the sun. A gentle cooling breeze blowing the leaves off of tree branches and carrying them away.

Her soft giggles lightened the dark ambience of the sky, as she cupped her hands out to catch rain drops making Zenitsu’s heart soften until she would spray the water at him. He would chase her around carefully in the wet grass, catching her as she laughed in her father’s embrace.

He held onto her small hand as she jumped and splashed in the formed puddles sending droplets of water flying into other puddles.

“Frog!!” She yelled as she pointed to a stray little frog hopping on the sidewalk. Immediately she let go of his hand and took off after it.

Laughing happily, she ran after the green hopping frog, audible splashing of the puddles resounding against the soft pelting rain.

He ran not too far behind her, “Be careful!” He yelled out to her as she continued to chase the frog, her hood flying off her head as she ran forward. Beautiful raven becoming wet from the rain pouring down and showering her hair.

The cold rainy breeze nipped gently at her warm face, leaving her skin tinged a soft red and wet from the rain. Her energy never ceasing as she got closer and closer with a bright smile on her face with her hands extended outwards to hold the frog.

Suddenly a loud crack of thunder crashed, striking a nearby tree.

Or so Zenitsu thought.

His eyes widened at the sight of the strike of lightning landing on his daughter.

The strobe effect disorienting him for a second before watching her fall over on the sidewalk. He held in his scream as his heart began to beat the fastest it’s ever gone.

Zenitsu sprinted to her, panic coursing through his veins as his breathing became heavy as he reached her collapsed body.

Her beautiful raven hair now that same yellow toned blonde he had. The same situation he had gone through all those years ago. Her eyes were closed as she softly groaned before going quiet.

Zenitsu’s eyes watered as he held her body, her breathing soft and barely visible. He immediately reached for his phone to call for an ambulance, the police, heck even the military, trembling fingers attempting to dial the number, until he heard soft giggling.

He looked down and saw his daughter’s smiling face, laughing softly before her expression dropped to a look of concern.

“Why are you crying, papa?” She sat up in his hold, small hands gently wiping away the tears and rain that landed on his face.

It took Zenitsu moments to process the sight of his daughter’s face, seemingly unaware of what had just happened.

Tears flowed down his cheeks from the adrenaline coursing through him. His body tense and shaking because of everything that had happened, pain flowing through his body from the overwhelming thoughts in his head. There was no way his daughter was a ghost or some sort of conscious zombie.

He screamed loudly, making his daughter laugh as her warm hands caressed his face.

Zenitsu began to yell,“YOU JUST GOT STRUCK BY LIGHTNING AND YOU’RE ACTING LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED?!”

His honey toned eyes filled with worry and concern as he held his daughter close to him as he frantically checked her for any injuries or burns yet she was somehow miraculously unscathed by the strike save for her now yellow hair.

He watched her touch a clump of her hair, holding it to her eyesight with a visibly happy expression.

“I look just like papa now!” She cheered with a light pink hue on her cheeks, e/c eyes twinkling with excitement as she lovingly caressed and embraced her new permanent hair color.

He let out a sigh of relief, the quick pace of his heart relaxing for a moment before realizing the earful he was going to get from Y/n when they got back.

Zenitsu gently pat the top of his daughter’s now blonde hair, a light smile on his face, “Your mama isn’t going to be too happy about it.”

She giggled softly, “Don’t worry, papa. I’ll protect you!”

Her small arms embraced him, Zenitsu returning the embrace, carrying her back home.

ᴇɴᴅ

🌻—————————————————————🌻

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ sᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ғᴏʀ sᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴀ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛ

ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ <3

ғᴇᴇʟ ғʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ sᴇɴᴅ ɪɴ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛs/ᴀsᴋ/ɪᴅᴇᴀs/

ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ! ɪᴛs ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ (: sᴇᴇ ʏᴀʟʟ

sᴏᴏɴ!!

ᴘᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛs: 4

[virusinfected-memes]

TWICE LYRIC SENTENCE STARTERS, PT. 1 OF 3 ;

135 starters. Starters are taken from some of the Korean title tracks by girl group TWICE. Translations are from colorcodedlyrics.com. Feel free to change words and pronouns as needed!

LIKE OOH-AAH

"People can’t leave me alone for a single minute.”

“I make everyone smitten.”

“No matter where I go, the floors are red, like walking down a red carpet.”

“Everyone is staring at me.”

“But I don’t feel a thing.”

“I’m waiting for someone who can make me feel something like never before.”

“I’ll wait, no matter how long it takes.”

“I just wanna fall in love.”

“Stop talking and start doing.”

“I still shine the most.”

“Just thinking about it makes me excited.”

“I don’t wanna start with just anybody.”

“I’m not a girl who gives it up so easily.”

“Let me see how you’re gonna treat me. I ain’t easy.”

“Better think about it twice.”

CHEER UP

"Now care for me.”

“I don’t wanna waste my battery.”

“He says he can’t even breathe.”

“He says he’s struggling because of me.”

“He says his heart is dropping. Why?”

“I’m not showing off or anything.”

“Sorry I couldn’t pick up earlier. I was meeting my friends.”

“I can’t really meet you right now, sorry. I’ll call you a little later.”

“Don’t beg. Then you won’t last long.”

“I’ll let you call me baby.”

“It’s still a little too early for my heart to feel the same, but I’ll show you more.”

“Cheer up, baby. Cheer up a little more.”

“A girl can’t give her heart too easily. That’s how you’ll get to like me even more.”

“Just get it together and then, baby, cheer up.”

“I can hear the anxiety in your voice.”

“Oops, was I too harsh, boy?”

“I’m worried that you’ll get tired, but if not, I think I’ll fall for you even more.”

“Don’t beg. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’ll be your baby.”

“Not too fast. Show me you mean it. I’ll wait for you.”

“I like you too, I’m just worried I’ll get hurt.”

TT

"But we don’t even know each other.”

“This time for sure, I’ll be the first to talk, but it’s always only in my head.”

“I start humming and before I know it, I feel like crying, I don’t feel like myself.”

“This isn’t like me at all.”

“I love you so much.”

“I think I’m all grown up now, I’m free to make my own choices, but why can’t I have it my way?”

“Why can’t I have it my way?”

“The more I try to push you away, the more I’m drawn and attracted to you.”

“You don’t know how I feel.”

“Tell me that you’d be my baby.”

“You saying I’m ridiculous, that I don’t live up to my looks, doesn’t cheer me up at all.”

“I’m going crazy in all this mess.”

“Don’t you realize what’s going on inside me?”

KNOCK KNOCK

"Please hurry up a bit.”

“I need somebody.”

“You keep lingering around, taking a sneak peak.”

“You’re probably another playboy. Obviously just a bad boy.”

“I need some assurance.”

“Knock on my heart and open it up.”

“It won’t be so easy to open it up.”

“Say that you’re mine.”

“Come again tomorrow and the day after. I’ll be ready.”

“If you truly mean it, everything’s gonna be okay.”

“You pop in when I’m alone and shake me right out of my mind.”

“Now is the perfect time to make it yours.”

“After all this time, my frozen heart will melt away like ice cream.”

“I’m freaking out.”

SIGNAL

"I must let you know.”

“I’m sending you a sign, sending a signal, but it won’t go through.”

“I’m giving you a look, trying to make you notice, but you don’t get it.”

“I’m so frustrated, I’m going crazy.”

“I don’t know why this is happening.”

“My looks, my gestures, all my facial expressions—there’s no use, nothing works.”

“You have no tact at all.”

“How much more can I express my feelings?”

“At some point, I started liking you.”

“You idiot, why don’t you know my heart?”

“When are you going to stop being so dumb and only treat me like a friend? ‘Cause that’s not what I want.”

“Why aren’t you reacting?”

“If I look at you and smile, you should know. I’ve already looked at you and smiled so many times today.”

“If I keep talking to you, you should feel it. I keep staying by your side.”

LIKEY

"My heart’s fluttering.”

“I keep wanting to show you every little thing, each and every one.”

“Getting dolled up is so annoying, but I can’t just be careless.”

“Every day, you make my heart race.”

“Shall I make a pretty pose for the camera?”

“Look at this and smile for me.”

“But it’s so typical to say ‘I like you.’ It’s not enough to express my heart.”

“But I like you, I can’t even sleep.”

“Come a little closer.”

“Please, know my heart. I don’t want to hide it anymore.”

“I feel down today. I try to act like I’m not, but people keep asking if I’m sad.”

“I’m upset because you’re not reacting at all.”

“All day, my mood goes back and forth, up and down.”

HEART SHAKER

"Come and be my love.”

“Am I really doing the right thing?”

“Should I just say hi?”

“Should I give you a note and run away?”

“This is the time. Girl, you can do it.”

“Love is timing. You might regret it if you miss this chance.”

“Love is coming.”

“Have more courage. Don’t hesitate anymore.”

“I can’t help it, I’ve fallen for him.”

“You’re my heart shaker.”

“I don’t wanna miss this chance.”

“I won’t just wait around like a fool.”

“I wanna tell you that I’m into you, that I like you, that I miss you all day.”

“Would you be my love? Because I fell for you.”

“Keep it cool so it won’t get awkward.”

“No need to get nervous.”

“What do I do? I can’t look him in the eyes.”

“You’ll want me too. You’ll fall in love with me.”

“I really hope that you feel the same.”

“Say you love him. Don’t hold back.”

WHAT IS LOVE?

"Every day, I felt love only in movies or books or dramas. That’s how I learned of love.”

“My heart kept racing as if it were my story.”

“My heart was pounding and fluttering.”

“Some day, will these things happen to me too? When will that be? Who will it be?”

“They say it’s sweet like candy.”

“They say it feels like flying.”

“I wanna know, what is love? What does love feel like?”

“They say you smile all day.”

“They say the world becomes beautiful.”

“Will this kind of love come to me too?”

“Just thinking about it makes my heart explode.”

“If love really comes to me someday, I might just cry.”

“I don’t know when or how we’ll meet, but I wonder what it’ll feel like.”

“I think it’ll be really nice... Better than the movies or dramas.”

“Love will come! My predictions are always right!”

“Hurry and come! I’m always ready!”

“I don’t think I can stand it anymore.”

DANCE THE NIGHT AWAY

"This feeling is just so right.”

“You and me and the world, together we’ll party all night long.”

“This moment is special.”

“Don’t miss the pleasure of it.”

“Dance like we’re flying to the top of the world.”

“Let’s dance the night away.”

“Someday you and I will reach the moon’s far side.”

“Shout out loud like today’s the last day!”

[dukethomas]

Summary: Duke and Damian, over the years. 

Written for @duketectivecomics’ Duke Week! Day Four is Reverse Robin, though I modified it so it could be Reverse Batfam. Reverse Batkid? Still works.

-

Duke is nine. He’s Batman’s partner, Lark, and helping Batman punch the living daylights out of criminals helps him forget his parents’ grins and their laughter, and his laughter. (Bruce benches him whenever he’s working on a Joker case. Duke doesn’t complain.) It’s fun, and he’s good at it.

However, he’s heard enough about the League of Assassins, and he’s watched footage in training of Bruce fighting off a whole horde of Assassins (with a capital A) to know that these guys aren’t to be trifled with. And while Duke has spirit and guts and instinct and smarts, what he doesn’t have is the grace anyone in that footage has. He’s still training. He has a long way to go.

And he definitely can’t fight off an Assassin on his own. He’ll try, sure, but he has his limits.

So when he runs to open the door—he and Alfred have made a game out of it, because they kept running into each other whenever the doorbell rung. Whoever gets there first gets a fresh batch of cookies or tea made just for them by the loser—his eyes widen and his jaws drop when he sees Talia al Ghul.

And a boy, who’s taller than him, so Duke assumes he’s older. The boy sniffs and turns his nose up at Duke.

A few seconds too late, Duke settles into his fighting stance. His fists are up and he stares down Talia al Ghul and the boy, hoping something in his eyes would tell them to back down, something steely and indomitable, like all the books say.

Talia al Ghul chuckles. “Down, boy,” she says, her eyes glittering with mirth. “Neither of us intend to cause harm.”

“Speak for yourself,” the boy mutters, glancing at Duke, but Talia al Ghul doesn’t seem to hear it. The boy is unsettlingly quiet and still for someone who doesn’t even look that much older than Duke. He holds himself weirdly. It’s not unlike the entitled rich kid pose, but it’s also tense and lax at the same time.

Like how Bruce fights, Duke realizes. His mind is tense but his body is calm.

“Uh,” he says ever so eloquently. “Bruce! Alfred!”

Bruce shows up three minutes later, and the boy inhales sharply, but softly. Duke is already getting tired of the oxymorons.

“This,” Talia al Ghul says with a light flourish, “is your son. Damian al Ghul Wayne.”

I’m sorry, what?

Duke glances back at Bruce to see what he thinks, and Bruce’s eyebrows are tightly knit together. “You told me you lost the child,” he murmurs.

“I lied,” responds Talia al Ghul, a line of regret tracing her nonchalant tone. “My father’s wishes.”

And what happens after devolves into boring grown-up talk, so Duke stops paying attention. He keeps an eye on their respective body languages, in case this turns into a fight.

But he hates being by adults who are talking without him with nothing else to do, so he turns to the boy—Damian.

“Our names both start with a D,” he offers, smiling at Damian.

Damian doesn’t smile back. Instead, he scoffs, and says nothing else. What Duke has gathered is that Damian was raised with the League of Assassins, which means chances of him being an Assassin too are nearly one-hundred percent. But Talia al Ghul has years, decades, maybe centuries of training on Damian, and Damian can’t hide the worry in his eyes nearly as well. Plus, Duke’s good at reading people, Bruce says it’s a talent.

So he tries again to talk to Damian. “You’re coming to stay with us, right?” A small nod. Success! “I gotta show you all the good places to hide. It won’t hide us from Alfred, because Alfred knows all, but if you don’t want to listen to Bruce, well.” He gestures at Bruce and Talia al Ghul jabbering on about something adult-y.

“Tt,” is the only sound that comes from Damian, and it’s the third oxymoron so far. It’s simultaneously amused and disapproving, and that’s when Duke thinks he knows the problem.

Damian has a shadow cast over him, a long and dark one he can’t seem to shake.

Well, that’s fine. Duke has always clung to the light better than the shadows, he’ll just be Damian’s light as well as Batman’s.

-

Damian doesn’t warm up to Duke quickly, though not for lack of trying on Duke’s part. The older boy keeps brushing him away and getting all huffy, and downright rude. Once Duke sneaks up on Damian and he whips around with a blade pointed towards Duke’s head. Yeesh.

Duke eventually decides it’s easier to stay away. Do his Lark business, go to school, let Bruce deal with Damian.

And he thinks Damian resents him for that. Duke can see why—Bruce gets all stiff and cold with Damian, like he was in the first month of Duke living there, but he’s caught Damian lingering in the doorway of Duke’s bedroom watching Bruce hover around Duke more than once—but honestly? He’s just tired of it. And he wishes he could help, but clearly there’s something deeper there.

Still. Duke doesn’t dislike Damian. Damian’s just… rough around the edges. And sometimes those rough edges are deadly and sharp and Alfred tells him to stay away from knives in the kitchen (even though Duke’s fought off goons with knives before).

(And Duke’s used to rough edges, he thinks, shuddering as a boisterous laugh comes from the TV when he does his homework.)

“Hey, Batman?” he asks one night during a stakeout.

Bruce looks over to him, eyebrow clearly raised even if Duke can’t see it through the cowl.

Duke shines his flashlight into Bruce’s eyes, earning him a curse and a scowl. “When are you going to talk to Dami—um, D?”

“Put that down,” Bruce commands gently, pulling the flashlight away, but Duke just redirects it. “I’ve been talking to him.”

“Yeah, to tell him off! When are you going to treat him like your son, B? You treat me more like a son than him, and I’m not even—” He cuts himself off. “I’m not even your son.” Which shouldn’t feel like it’s gnawing at him inside to say, because it’s true. Doug Thomas is his dad and will always be, but…

He shakes his head. The focus is on Damian right now.

“Are you ever going to let him… y’know?” he blurts. He’s always finding Damian in the Cave (Batcave, Duke insists, but Bruce just ruffles his hair) wielding his sword. He has half a mind to ask Damian to train with him, because Duke knows if he wants to be better, he has to learn from the best. And Damian looks incredible when he practices. All fluid and graceful, like he learned how to fight before he could walk.

Bruce’s hand reaches towards Duke, then draws back. “We don’t use lethal methods, Lark.”

“Then teach him non-lethal methods.”

The answer seems clear as daylight to Duke, though evidently, not so much to Bruce. He hopes it helps anyways.

And then the thugs they’re on the lookout for walk into the warehouse with a confident swagger, and it’s showtime. By the time they’re done, Duke is grinning and bouncing, saying, “I just knocked that guy out, did you see that? That was so cool!”

Batman never loses his stony demeanor while in costume, but if the edges of Bruce’s mouth curve upwards on the Batmobile ride home, Duke knows to not tell anyone.

Unfortunately, his dreams are less than pleasant.

It’s his parents again. When is it not? They’re pressed up against the glass, his mom has this crooked smirk, and she snarls at him. She bangs her fist on the glass and yells, “I’m going to kill you!”

Duke backs up, finding only a foot of space between the glass and the wall behind him. “Mom,” he croaks out, but she doesn’t hear. She never does. “Mom, it’s me, it’s Duke, your son.” His eyes burn and tears come spilling out.

The lights flicker once, twice, before zapping out completely, leaving him and his parents in darkness.

His mom cackles, and tells him, “I know. I know!” and she’s more aware than she’s been in months, and she barrels her head into the glass. It cracks, shards of glass flying around Duke.

A plea is on his lips as she lunges at him, and he jolts up, his shirt damp with sweat.

He’s in his bedroom at Wayne Manor, he dully realizes. He’s still shrouded with darkness, but his parents aren’t here. They had considered moving his parents on the grounds, but ultimately decided against it.

He lets himself pant, gripping his bedsheets. Would he be a bad son if he thinks that was a good decision?

Duke hears footsteps outside his door and freezes, his heart pounding in his ears. He squeezes his eyes shut.

Someone opens the door, and there’s a click—a familiar one, from the light switch. Duke cranes his neck to see Damian entering, the older boy awkward and groggy in his movements, but there.

Damian is still in the doorframe, his eyes roaming the room and looking anywhere but at Duke. Something gleams in his left pocket. “I heard… there were screams. Did you need something, Thomas?”

“Please,” Duke whispers, eyes wide and staring at the shadow behind Damian. “Can I have a hug?”

Damian pauses, steps back, then moves forward, making a beeline towards Duke. He envelops Duke into a hug, oddly detached and patting Duke on the back, but a hug nonetheless. Duke leans into the touch, feeling a tear roll down his face and onto Damian’s shirt. “Sorry,” he mumbles, his throat tight.

“It’s… alright,” Damian replies. “I was already awake. And I have other items of clothing.”

For some reason, that brings on the sobs into full-force, with Duke gasping for breath as he lets it all out. Damian is there, still patting Duke on the back until it becomes a rhythmic comfort.

Duke doesn’t know when he drifts off to sleep, but he wakes up with Damian’s shirt draped over him with his green blanket.

Sunshine slips in through the curtains, hastily pulled open, as sunshine blooms in Duke’s chest. He sprints downstairs, jumping and skipping stairs like he’s walking on air.

“Slow down, Master Duke!” Alfred reprimands, and Duke shrugs and does as Alfred says, but only a little bit.

He almost runs straight into Damian, but he stops himself just in time. He opens his mouth to thank Damian, but Damian furrows his eyebrows at Duke and says, “Did you talk to Father? He spoke to me about training,” and a tension has been lifted from Damian’s shoulders. He’s springier.

“I think?” Duke says, knocking his knuckles on his head trying to recall what else happened last night. “Yeah?”

Damian stares at him, his brown eyes meeting Duke’s own with a hint of something gleaming in the light. “Thank you,” he tells Duke honestly.

“No problem!” Duke chirps. And before he can take it back, he says, “That’s what brothers are for.”

(He doesn’t take it back when asked about it later. The term “brothers” feels right, even if they only started having amiable conversations last night. He doesn’t think about the implications.)

-

It’s six months of non-lethal training until Damian is deemed fit to go out into the field. Duke leans on Damian’s shoulder as the older boy sketches out a mannequin with armor. It’s when “Shadow” is written in neat cursive that Duke realizes it’s meant to be Damian’s suit.

He blinks, his eyes drooping.

He doesn’t have patrol tonight, or tomorrow for that matter, but he really needs to lay off the late-night patrols. And the late-night training. He doesn’t want to fall asleep in the middle of class.

“That looks cool,” he comments, taking in the design. It’s gray and black, a bat in the chest. Damian fills in the outline of a cowl, and—

“Hey, wait, is this just a mini Batman costume?”

Damian stiffens. Almost imperceptibly, but Duke is busy soaking up Damian’s warmth right now, so he notices.

Duke moves the desk lamp so he can see the drawing more clearly. “C’mon, Damian,” he says, “I know you can be more original than this.”

“Tt,” Damian responds, still tracing over the lines he’s already drawn. “It has already proven itself to be a suitable design; why bother?”

A curl falls in front of Duke’s eyes, and he blows it away. Huffs, puffs, and the whole shebang. “Because you’re not Bruce? I have my own suit. I chose the colors!” Yellow with black accents, because it’s always been a hopeful color for Duke, and that’s what he wants to inspire—hope. Also, it’s a lark color scheme, minus brown, because wearing brown? Yuck.

Yeah, sure, Lark has been described as a child flashlight several times, but Duke stands by his decision. Even now, thinking about his suit makes him smile.

Damian pauses for a while after that. His hand stills. “Are you suggesting Father isn’t someone I should aspire to be like?”

“Be like,” Duke points out. “Not be. Seriously. I think you would look really cool in green!”

A scoff comes from Damian at that. “I chose the name Shadow for a reason, I will not go out in bright colors and compromise stealth.”

Duke yawns and snuggles closer into Damian’s shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Dami. I’m just saying, you don’t have to be Batman.” His eyes close, and it’s a sweet relief. Damian doesn’t respond for a while, so Duke adds, voice soft, “I think Lark looks cooler than Batman, anyhow.”

He wakes up on Damian’s bed, the older boy and his sketch conspicuously missing. When Duke heads down to the Batcave for training, he sees a new paper pinned. He recognizes the swoopy thin lines of Damian’s art, but the design is totally new.

The suit is wicked cool, dark gray and all jagged edges where the Batman suit has smooth lines, and a little circle to the side of the chest with a Bat rather than one spread across the chest. It’s cloaked rather than caped, the hood concealing hair instead of a cowl. A black domino mask with white lenses covers the eyes. Golden accent lines run throughout the suit, and Duke wonders if people affiliated with the Bat can only really have one color scheme: black, gray, and yellow or gold.

He grins, looking at it, but turns at the quiet footfalls he’s been learning to recognize.

“Good morning!” he chirps at Damian, who’s rubbing the grogginess out of his eyes. Despite that, he’s already dressed, wearing a forest green sweater and black jeans.

Damian half-smiles and arches an eyebrow. “Do you still believe that Lark’s suit is the coolest?”

And c’mon, Duke has to defend his honor. He sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry. “Always and forever.”

“Well then, it appears you have been misinformed,” Damian hums.

Damian’s suit is completed within the week, and Duke has to admit—it looks even cooler when it’s real. Lark’s is still the best, though.

-

Duke would be lying if he says he isn’t dumbfounded every time he gets to visit the Watchtower. It’s in outer freakin’ space, of course he’s impressed. His headquarters is a literal cave. Even with four years as Lark under his belt, his jaw still drops.

Batman’s here for a routine League meeting. Normally, he and Damian don’t come with, but another sidekick—Duke makes a face at the word, he prefers the term partners, but the media sticks with that—debuted the other day. He goes by Kid Flash, and he seems pretty cool. Duke’s looking forward to meeting him… if the Flashes ever showed up on time.

Which they do not. So Duke and Damian wait, along with some others—Aqualad, Teen Lantern, Red Arrow, and Crush this time around—with Hawkwoman as their babysitter of sorts. She’s not the most thrilled with this assignment, but Duke can’t blame her, it’s pretty boring.

Duke and Damian sit with each other by the wall. Superboy should have been here but he and Superman had civilian duties to take care of, so they sit in comfortable silence.

He gives up within two minutes. It’s just too long to wait while doing nothing. He stands up to have a look around the Watchtower, maybe he can even find that huge window that shows off the expanse of space. His English teacher will love the words he writes about it.

Something catches his eye, a dull silver in the edges of his vision. Duke heads towards it, and to his delight, Hawkwoman left her mace on a table. A grin splits his face and he reaches out to hold it.

“What are you doing?” Damian hisses from behind him, pulling his hands away from the mace. “Don’t touch that!”

“But Shadow!” Duke argues. “It’s right there! It’s not even harmful, I think! It’s made out of alien metal, right? That’s so baller, I have to feel it for myself.”

Damian sighs and puts his head in his gauntlet-covered hands. “Nth metal, Lark. It’s made of Nth metal, and is potentially very dangerous.”

Duke takes the spare moment of distraction to hold the Nth metal, and he grins up into the ceiling. A mistake, he realizes as industrial lights beam down at him, causing him to squint and glance down.

Damian moves forward to pull the mace out of his hands, except there’s a quality to him, a certain golden sheen, and Duke backs up. He blinks, and Damian hasn’t even moved, but then he does, again, in the exact same way as before.

Damian’s lenses widen. “Lark, let that go. Now!” he commands. “It has an effect on you. Your eyes are—”

Duke blinks a few more times, not hearing the rest of that. His vision is so much sharper now. It’s making him a little dizzy, but he doesn’t say that.

Instead, he does let go of the mace, and it clatters to the floor noisily.

“Shadow,” he blurts, lurching forward.

Damian catches him and pulls him up into an embrace. Duke may be twelve now, but he’s reminded of his dad’s hugs. Firm and protective. He leans into it. “Are you alright?” Damian whispers into Duke’s ear.

Duke’s vision swims with lights and colors and brightness. He buries his face into Damian’s chest, relishing the darkness. He nods.

Damian’s hand rests on Duke’s back. “We’ll… we’ll figure this out,” he promises.

-

Duke swallows down a glass of punch at the side of the room in the middle of a gala. It slides down his throat and sloshes around in his stomach uneasily.

He stares at Cass, quiet for a ten-year-old but the brightest person in the room. Everywhere she goes, by Bruce’s side or not, people flock to her and their gazes are drawn in her direction. She glides through the gala graceful as the moon, but with the attention she’s getting, you’d think she’s the sun.

The gala is being held in celebration of Bruce’s adoption of Cass. A darling princess for the Wayne lineage, says one newspaper. Bruce Wayne’s pity adoptee, sneers another.

And Duke can relate. Bruce and Alfred tried to hide it from him, but the tabloids didn’t have anything good to say about him either. But Duke’s mind lingers on the difference.

He shakes his head, staring at his deep brown eyes through the cerise lense of the punch. It’s silly. Of course Bruce wouldn’t adopt him; Duke has perfectly good parents already. It would make the paperwork easier should—when his parents get cured.

“Something’s wrong,” Damian observes, walking up behind Duke.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Duke replies, ignoring the way his chest twists at the words.

He can practically feel Damian raise his eyebrows. “You’re lying, and we both know it. Come with me, Duke.”

Duke follows without a retort, and Damian leads him to the balcony. The gentle moonlight and starlight welcomes him more than the harsher lights of the chandeliers inside ever have.

“Since when did you become the emotionally intuitive one?” Duke asks, crossing his arms over the railing.

Damian huffs. “I am still not aware of what’s going on with you. But I am… I’m your older brother. It’s my duty.”

Duke hums at that. The description resonates deep in his bones, a familiar comfort, and it had never felt wrong. More like puzzle pieces snapping together.

Brother often means they share a father. It just as often can mean they do not. And Duke didn’t think they did—did they?

“It’s not Cass’ fault,” he says, playing a mental game with the Gotham skyline. He always tries to find his old neighborhood, before he got taken in by Bruce. It helps him remember, so one day, he might come home and he wouldn’t have forgotten. “It’s my brain that’s being fucky.”

“Language,” Damian reprimands under his breath. He then speaks in a louder tone, now meant for Duke’s ears. “I didn’t think so. You were never the resentful type. I’m grateful for that.”

Duke throws his head back to laugh. Five years ago, Damian would rather stab him than talk about feelings like this. Duke wanted to train with Damian. Funny how things change. “No, it’s—it’s something else. Bruce adopted Cass. That’s what’s bothering me, I think.”

Damian tilts his head at Duke. “Would you prefer for Father,”—Baba, now, behind closed doors, but Duke wouldn’t pry—“to adopt you?”

“No. I don’t think so. Would I? I already have a dad.” Duke sucks in a breath. He’d gone to visit them last weekend. No improvements, as per usual. Not even lucid enough to give Duke death threats.

“Family isn’t bound by blood,” Damian reminds him softly. “I have a brother now, and a sister. Who’s to say you can’t have two fathers?”

Duke blinks rapidly. His finger brushes the corner of his eye and comes away wet. “And I’m not a bad son? I’m not abandoning my dad for Bruce?”

“Absolutely not.”

And just like that, a dam bursts. One tear rolls down Duke’s cheeks, then another, then several more. Despite this, hope settles into his chest with the cool touch of the moon and stars.

“Thank you, Dami,” Duke says, jumping into a hug with the taller boy (though Damian won’t remain that for long—Duke shot up rapidly in the last year or so, and he’s quickly approaching Damian’s height).

Damian returns the hug, his chin warm against Duke’s shoulder when he tells Duke, “Anytime.”

-

Damian is dead.

Duke’s breath hitches, with quiet little Cass by his side and Steph and Harper there for moral support. The funeral is closed casket—the cover story had been kidnappers and an explosion, and thus, no body to bury.

Duke had seen Damian’s body. He and Bruce were a moment too late. Duke is fast, faster than Bruce when desperate, but he had glimpsed a moment into the future and fell back, momentarily blinded by the explosion that hadn’t even happened yet.

Maybe if he hadn’t relied on his powers, maybe if he’d pushed past that to run, maybe if he arrived a minute or two earlier, Damian wouldn’t have—

Cass squeezes his hand. Duke squeezes back, numb to the core. He lets go and steps back, into the shade of a tree.

Damian’s funeral is held on a day where the sun glares, its heat searing into their skin. It’s not right. Nothing about this is right. Damian is—was—seventeen.

After the funeral, Duke writes a note to Bruce. He writes that he’s resigning as Lark. He can’t do this anymore, not when Lark’s partner is Shadow as well as Batman. His words tumble out without eloquence, and his tears smear the ink.

He flees.

And maybe he’s a coward. He can live with that. But Gotham—the city of rebirth, he liked to call it. The city of new beginnings. The city that had always seemed like stubbornness and perseverance and hope. It was Damian’s beginning, but it was also his end.

And Duke remembers why another name was given to Gotham.

(City of death. Death and rebirth is the whole phrase. He can’t ever forget that.)

It’s marred with the memory of them, of Damian, of his parents, of the kid that hoped and told himself if no one else would help, he would. Duke can’t stay here. No matter how much this feels like a betrayal to his family, to his father that believed Gotham would shine true, to his mother who came here to start a new life, to Damian whose smile was like Gotham’s sun, he can’t stay. He can’t. He can’t.

So what if Duke is a traitor? He doesn’t have many left to betray.

Instead, he seeks refuge in Blüdhaven, notorious for being the only city worse than Gotham. A simple city, one that held no pretenses of goodness, one that wouldn’t betray Duke.

Duke thought he was Damian’s light, but now that Damian’s gone, he knows better.

Damian was a light all on his own, and without him, Duke’s light shatters into tiny shards.

One morning not long after the funeral, Duke wakes up to find the sun assaulting his eyes, which is a rarer occurrence in Blüdhaven than in Gotham.

He shuts the blinds and cries in the quiet, shadowed room, his chest heaving with every sob, painfully aware that every gasped breath is a breath Damian will never get to take.

-

(The next two years seem to fly by. Duke becomes Blüdhaven’s Signal, and begins to take on the local gangs. He dismantles them from the inside out, with a focus he didn’t often have before.

He becomes an emancipated minor at barely fifteen, and he enrolls himself into a public high school. He used to have a 4.0 GPA. Now, with late nights spent fighting, and early mornings spent applying makeup over the bruises, his school performance dips.

A boy, small and skinny, appears on his doorstep. Duke recognizes him—it’s Timothy Drake, the next door neighbor who Duke would visit every once in a while, the boy with the emptiest house Duke has ever seen. “I know you used to be Lark,” Tim Drake tells him, “that Bruce Wayne is Batman, and that Damian used to be Shadow.”

Duke flinches and nearly slams the door in tiny Tim’s face right there and then. (Duke is only two years older, but sometimes it feels like it could be centuries in between them.)

“I need you to be Lark again. Batman has been uncontrolled, lately. Violent.”

“No,” Duke says firmly, crossing his arms. “I’m not—I won’t go back.” Which is a lie. He briefly went back to finalize the emancipation. He avoided Bruce’s eyes, then.

“He needs you!”

“He needs his son!” Duke retorts. “And he has—he has Batgirl and Black Bat and Bluebird. He doesn’t need me.”

Tim only looks at him with steely blue eyes, and something in them causes a pit to drop in Duke’s stomach. Oh god, why didn’t he keep up with Gotham news, did someone else…?

Duke holds onto the memory of texting Cass yesterday. She said she was staying at Steph’s and Harper’s place, which meant all three are safe. (Right? Right.)

“I’m sorry,” he tells Tim earnestly, “but I can’t do it. I’m not that guy anymore.” And then the door shuts, with a soft click. Duke waits by the door until he hears Tim’s footsteps fade.

Jon Kent visits. Duke lets him in, and soon enough, teen heroes stop by Duke’s apartment in droves. Duke was only ever a reserves Teen Titan, to be called upon if there was an emergency; Damian was the one who made friends within the Titans, while Duke’s friends remained squarely in Gotham. Still, Titans stop by to say their condolences or just laugh over the counter with cups of instant hot cocoa.

It helps relieve the ache of loneliness. Duke doesn’t realize how much he needs other people to thrive until he calls for a Teen Titans study session and notices with glowing warm pride that his grades are straight A’s once again.

And… Duke travels back to Gotham. Not to stay, the wounds are still too fresh, but he has a conversation with Bruce, the man that has almost been a father to him for years now, and he thinks it might not be so bad.

Tim is Shadow now. Tim had a choice between Lark and Shadow, and he chose what he knows best. Instead, Steph becomes Lark while Cass fills in Steph’s shoes as Batgirl.

It’s almost a heartwarming picture of a not-quite family.

And Duke wonders if, one day, Damian might be a happy memory to look back to.

Of course, that’s when Damian returns.)

-

“You let him replace me,” Damian snarls, his hands balled into fists.

Duke freezes in place, staring at the man under the red helmet. Damian’s eyes glint with green, a sharp green that terrifies where the brown used to comfort. A shadow covers nearly three quarters of Damian’s face, but the green still pierces.

“Dami,” he says, his voice cracking. “You—you’re—”

Alive, Duke doesn’t get to say before Damian lunges at him with a knife, his eyes gleaming with madness.

-

“You have reached Red Hood. Do not try to contact me again.”

“Hey, yeah, Dami, it’s Duke, Harper and I finally found this number, I just… I just want to let you know you’re welcome back in the family whenever. Bruce isn’t even—he’s not even that angry anymore. All we want is for you to come home. We miss you. Please. I’ll call again if you don’t respond in twenty-four hours.”

“You have reached Red Hood. Do not try to contact me again.”

“Duke again. What the fuck, Damian? I know you’re seeing this. I saw you on the news. Someone managed to record a video of you walking out of that warehouse—we were going to ambush them tomorrow night, but I guess the first one there can call dibs. Anyways, I saw you check your phone. You know I’m here. You didn’t even kill any of them this time. Please come home. Calling again in twenty-four hours if you don’t respond.”

“You have reached Red Hood. Do not try to contact me again.”

“Am I the only one who leaves you voicemails? Does anyone else know you have this number, like, at all? That’s not the point. The point is that we’re still waiting. And you can come back whenever you’re ready. I just… yeah. Yeah. I’ll talk to you again in twenty-four hours.”

“You have reached Red Hood. Do not try to contact me again.”

“You know, Cass scared the shit out of Bruce the other day? She’s opened up a lot since after you… uh. Well. Anyways, you should have seen his face, Dami, it was hilarious. Almost as good as that time we put glitter into the vents of the Batmobile. I’ll talk to you again, yeah? Yeah.

“You have reached Red Hood. Do not try to contact me again.”

“I’m not actually part of the family, did you know that? Became an emancipated minor a few months after you died. I don’t know why I keep trying—if you won’t come back for family, who says you’ll come back for me? ...Does this sound sudden to you? For context, Bruce and I screamed at each other for a half hour straight about… never mind. I’ll talk to you la—oh, what the hell, you know the drill.”

“You have reached Red Hood. Do not try to contact me again.”

“...Dami? I’m in a little bit of a hurry here, but—whoa! Holy shit. I was wondering if you’d want to come to my graduation ceremony in Bludhaven next week? It’s, uh—fuck!—it would mean a lot to me if you were able to make it. I’m salutatorian. So no speeches but I’ll still look cool. Motherbitcher on a stick, I—tell me if you’re gonna come, alri—AHHHHHHHHHHH! You fucker, that hurts, I—why do I feel… dizzy…?”

“Hey! This is Duke, I can’t get to the phone right now, but don’t worry, I’m sure I’m fine. If it’s urgent, though, leave a message after the beep! ...Wait, does it beep?”

“Thomas, you imbecile, of course it beeps. You need to answer me and tell me where you are. I—I will try again.”

“Hey! This is Duke, I can’t get to the phone right now, but don’t worry, I’m sure I’m fine. If it’s urgent, though, leave a message after the beep! ...Wait, does it beep?”

“Answer me, where are you? Did you get yourself in trouble? Stupid, idiotic Thomas, why are you calling me on patrol?”

“Hey! This is Duke, I can’t get to the phone right now, but don’t worry, I’m sure I’m fine. If it’s urgent, though, leave a message after the beep! ...Wait, does it beep?”

“...Duke? I will come to your graduation ceremony. I would—I would love to see you again. Please be alright.”

“Hey! This is Duke, I can’t get to the phone right now, but don’t worry, I’m sure I’m fine. If it’s urgent, though, leave a message after the beep! ...Wait, does it beep?”

“Duke! I’m on my way. Please be alright, please be alright. If you die, I will hunt you down and throw you in a Pit, and the Pits are not to be trifled with. There’s no telling what you’ll come back like. But I… hey, watch where you’re going!”

“Hey! This is Duke, I can’t get to the phone right now, but don’t worry, I’m sure I’m fine. If it’s urgent, though, leave a message after the beep! ...Wait, does it beep?”

“I’ve talked with Father. Isn’t that what you wanted? This is a terrible way to go about it. He has a tracker on you and I’m headed to your coordinates. Please be alright. I’ll… see you when I see you.”

“Hey! This is Duke, I can’t get to the phone right now, but don’t worry, I’m sure I’m fine. If it’s urgent, though, leave a message after the beep! ...Wait, does it beep?”

“Duke Thomas, you are a colossal dumbass. But I wanted to talk to you. Doctor Thompkins is checking you over, I’m trying to avoid Father and my replacement. I… I hope you’ll be alright. You’ve paled and you’ve lost a lot of blood, but Doctor Thompkins believes you’re salvageable. You’ll be okay.

“I didn’t get to finish my message, one of the earlier ones, I just realized. If you don’t make it out of this… I will hunt down an unused Pit for you, no matter the risks. Don’t you dare say you’re not part of this family, because that isn’t true in the slightest. You are my brother. I’ve been neglecting my duties as the elder brother. I—I promise to remedy that when you awake.

“Please be alright.”

-

“I got my phone back,” Duke says to Damian. Damian’s eyes are closed, as if he fell asleep, but his shoulders are tense.

Damian’s eyes flutter open. The green pierces through Duke’s chest, they’re nothing like what he remembers. He knows all too well he can scarcely remember his mother���s real laugh anymore. What if one day he forgets Damian’s brown eyes as well?

“I heard your message. Would you really…?”

Damian crosses his arms. “I meant every word.”

Duke grins, holding out his arms. “Hug?”

Damian accepts, gently embracing Duke. “Moron.”

A tear runs down Duke’s face, but it’s warm and filled with hope for the future. Their future. “That’s what brothers are for.”

-

“Tt,” Damian says, his voice modulated coming from underneath the helmet. “You seem to be doing alright with everyone living in the Manor. I am not needed.”

Duke frowns and revs his motorcycle. Damian lost his in the warehouse explosion, so Duke’s giving him a ride to the Batmobile. They’ll steal it, just like when they were kids. “You can’t hoist the oldest child responsibilities onto me, that’s not how this works. We share it, remember? Also, we all miss you. Lark,”—now Tim, after Damian made the attempt on his life, but Duke’s positive that Tim is inventing his own mantle now—“would be a little testy about it, but he really admired you, y’know. That’s why he took your name and not mine.”

They enter the Narrows, the grimy apartments and alleyways familiar, but they really have gotten better in the past decade or so. Duke still has an apartment in Blüdhaven, but he’s been going back and forth between both cities pretty frequently.

Gotham is his home. He can’t stay away long.

“I still haven’t properly apologized—” Damian cuts himself off. Duke turns towards where the Batmobile is parked, squinting to see what’s captured Damian’s attention.

A small boy, who couldn’t be more than thirteen, drops a huge Batmobile tire and runs.

Damian chases after him, with Duke close behind. “You gotta admit,” he says to Damian with a grin, “the kid’s got guts. Jacking tires from the Batmobile?”

They slow down as they find the kid, and share a look. The kid may have guts, but to even try must mean he’s desperate.

“Hey!” Duke calls, his bright as hell Signal outfit probably more inviting than Damian’s whole shtick, especially with the sword sheathed at Damian’s side. He turns on a little penlight attached to his keyring. “Hey, we don’t want to hurt you. How about we go out to eat?”

-

“Hey, Dickhead!” Jason yells up at the ceiling. Duke cranes his neck to see, and… yeah, Dick’s on the chandelier again. It shakes, the light scattering and dancing across the room.

Damian is sitting at the table, sipping at his jasmine tea. “Jason,” he sharply reprimands.

Jason’s tiny nose scrunches up. “Sorry, Mom.”

Without missing a beat, Damian asks in a tone quiet enough for only Duke to hear, “Do you ever miss when it was only us two?”

“Always,” Duke responds. “But I wouldn’t give up any of… this family for the world.”

And maybe they’re a little broken, but they’re trying to rebuild. Duke isn’t Damian’s light anymore, nor is Damian a shadow, or another light, or anything his younger self's mind could have dreamed of. They’re people. Living, breathing people who try their best, and it’s more of a partnered relationship than anything.

They help each other. They stick by each other’s sides and they learn, and they grow, and they find that they’re more alike than they think.

Maybe they’re not alright. But that’s alright. They’re trying.

“Besides,” Duke says after a brief pause, “it wasn’t nearly as funny when it was only me driving you up a wall.”

Damian snorts at that and elbows him.

And everything seems right in the world.

Also read and comment on AO3!

[leejihoonownsmyheart]

Star

Part of the Road Trip shuffle

                                                                                                                 Skip

Summary:

Seeing your ex-boyfriend Jeon Wonwoo brings back a lot of memories. A lot of things that you didn’t want to think about anymore, and a lot of possibilities you can’t help but explore in your mind, now that he is practically in your life once again.

-

Is that star also looking at me by chance? Isn’t that star looking at me?

Breaking up with Jeon Wonwoo wasn’t the worst day of your life, but it also wasn’t the best one either.

It had been building up for a while... But that didn’t really mean that you had wanted it to happen either way. At the time you and Wonwoo had been dating for over a year, and it certainly hadn’t ever been a bad relationship.

Wonwoo paid good attention to you, and you two had spent a fair amount of time together. You went on coffee dates and... Coffee dates, and... More coffee dates.

“He doesn’t cherish you.”

That’s what Soonyoung had always told you. Every time you told him about your dates or about the time you had spent with him, Soonyoung had reminded you that Wonwoo was a nice guy but he took you for granted.

And you knew that Soonyoung only meant the best for you. He was your best friend after all, had been for so long that you didn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been at your side. But in the end, it had still been a really hard decision for you.

You enjoyed all of your time with Wonwoo. You could remember lengthy walks in the park where you would tell him in-depth about your day, enjoying the little smile that you would catch on his lips when you glanced over at him to see how he was receiving your story. You would always stop in the middle of your speech at that- tilting your head, your own smile on your lips.

“What?”

“Oh nothing, nothing, keep going- what happened next?”

At the time, you figured Wonwoo had been the warmth in your life. He was stable, always rooted in the same habits. It was nice to know that if you ever needed Wonwoo you would know exactly where he would be, and nicer even so that you knew Wonwoo didn’t always need you around to feel content with your relationship.

Wonwoo was a pretty solitary man. Someone who honestly didn’t need too many people in his life to feel like he was living well.

Because of that you had always felt so lucky to have him around. You were after all one of the very few people that he had decided was worthy of his attention. If that wasn’t a reason to feel honored, then you certainly didn’t know what was.

And you were a busy person. You couldn’t see someone you were dating every day, and in the past that had driven you and your significant others apart. But Wonwoo didn’t mind, he honestly sort of preferred it in some ways.

To most people- him even- you guys had been the perfect couple.

“Look... I know that you love him...”

That was never a good way for anyone to start a conversation. Much less, Soonyoung. Much less about your boyfriend.

“You think I should break up with him?” You blurted before he even finished his statement.

“It’s just... You sacrifice so much of your happiness for him. I mean... When was the last time that Wonwoo held your hand? Huh? Told you he loved you?”

You didn’t tell Soonyoung, because now that he mentioned it... It had been a while.

“You used to talk about him holding you close and how special he made you feel and now I wouldn’t even know you had a boyfriend because you never talk about him.”

“Well...” You trailed off scouring your thoughts for some kind of excuse. “I guess we’ve just gotten... Comfortable with one another. I shouldn’t break up with him just because we are comfortable.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Soonyoung agreed. He reached across the table, placing his hand comfortingly on your shoulder. “You should talk to him. You two need to decide if you are actually in a relationship or if you are just people who spend a lot of time together.”

You hadn’t ever imagined that such an innocent conversation. Such a timid suggestion of “You don’t say I love you as much as you used to.” would lead to the conversation it ended up leading to.

You two had somehow spiraled from small, half-accusations to placing full on blame to one another for their suddenly failing relationship.

“I don’t have to say I love you just so that you know that I do!”

“But I would like it if you said it... I don’t know even once!”

“What and waste my time saying things that you already know?”

“That’s the thing Wonwoo I don’t know.”

“Then maybe you’re right. Maybe we should break up after all!”

You two didn’t talk after that. You showed up at Wonwoo’s apartment with a box of things that he had left at yours and left with a box of things that you had left at his, and you two went your separate ways.

You figured that normally it would have been hard to avoid seeing Wonwoo all the time. The town you had met in was small, and there were so many places that you could go where you would run into him or one of his friends...

Lucky for you, a week after your breakup you got an email... You had been offered your dream job in New York City.

And just like that you packed your things and you left.

You didn’t think about Wonwoo, you didn’t see Wonwoo.

He simply became pictures on your phone that you couldn’t bring yourself to delete, but stared at from time to time, wondering what would have happened... If you hadn’t let him slip away.

-

“Hey, can you run down to that coffee shop on the corner and grab me a drink?”

The office’s assistant, Yongjun, looked your way, raising his eyebrow nervously.

“The one on the corner...?” He asked hesitantly. Tt was honestly odd to see Yongjun act like that. He was the sort of person who hopped right to work as soon as you asked him to do something. No matter what it was- he would be doing the task with loud affirmative words on lips before you were even done talking. So to see him hesitate?

“Something wrong?”

“No! No, I uh...” He trailed off. “What if I went to a different shop instead? My, uh, my ex sort of works there.”

Yongjun wouldn’t look you in the eyes as he spoke. He kept his head low; you could tell he was embarrassed by his own words. You weren’t sure why; it wasn’t as if people couldn’t relate to not really wanting to see their ex’s. You were just lucky that yours didn’t live in the same city as you anymore.

“You know what, that’s okay,” you replied. You got to your feet and smiled comfortingly at the boy. “I should stretch my legs anyways. Tell Siyeon that I’ll be back in just a second for me, won’t you?”

Yongjun opened his mouth to protest but before he could you patted his head, flashed a smile and headed downstairs.

As mentioned before, you were a pretty busy person, and you loved working. You loved working to the extent that Soonyoung was constantly insisting that you take a break because the amount of time you spent at the office simply “wasn’t healthy”. Honestly you thought he was a tad dramatic, but you knew that maybe it wouldn’t hurt you to get up and walk a little bit.

Even interacting with people other than Yongjun and your other coworkers would probably be good for you after hours of paperwork and staring at a blinking cursor on a computer screen. The streets of New York were a great place for that, and you knew that in the two years that you had lived there you hadn’t spent nearly enough time there.

You pushed into the coffee shop, and the initial aroma- freshly crushed coffee beans, and steamed milk- brought you to a stop just inside the door. You couldn’t really recall the last time that you had been inside an actual shop. You had always just gotten your morning coffee with everyone else as they bulk ordered it for the office or got a cup from the decades old coffee pot in the break room.

But the dim lights, indie music, and soft murmur of the occupants inside brought you back...

You sucked in a deep breath and tried not to think too hard about why the small store made you feel so warm and nostalgic, but when you turned to look at the counter you found yourself entirely unable to deny where your mind had been going.

Standing at the counter, a book in one hand, and his other in his pocket stood someone straight out of your deepest memories.

Jeon Wonwoo didn’t seem to have aged a day since you last saw him. The only difference you really saw was that he had dyed his hair, from its natural black to a dark brown. At the moment his eyebrows were strewn together in concentration as he read his book, his tongue stuck out of the corner of his lips as his eyes travelled across the page.

You knew you shouldn’t stand there and stare but... You simply couldn’t help it.

It had been so long since you last saw him, or let yourself think about him...

God you hadn’t even known he was moving to New York...

You shook your head frantically trying to clear your brain of your raging thoughts. You needed to compose yourself. For crying out loud it had been two years there was no reason for you to be stuck in your tracks like this... For your heart to be beating as hard as it was... To feel the overwhelming urge to walk over to Wonwoo and tell him you missed him.

You swallowed hard and turned away from Wonwoo. You didn’t think twice as you bolted out of the coffee shop and right back up to your little cubicle. You dropped down in your seat, your fingers going back to work on your keyboard before you even had the chance to think about what had just happened.

You thought maybe you would have gotten away with the strange behavior had it not been for the fact that Yongjun was standing right there, watching the whole thing.

His eyes drifted down to your hands and then raised back to your eyes

“Did you...?”

“Shut up,” you murmured back, your chest rising and falling as you took heavy breath after heavy breath. “I’m just never going to leave this office again okay?”

Yongjun raised his hands in the air, making an apologetic face.

“Yeah... Okay.”

After a few days of mind-numbing work, you were able to convince yourself that seeing him had been all in your head.

After all you were in New York City there was no reason at all for Wonwoo to be here. He wasn’t the sort of guy to pick up everything and move his life around entirely. It just didn’t make sense; you just knew that it couldn’t be true. It wasn’t him.

So, you pushed the memory down into the back of your mind and threw yourself back into your work.

You didn’t imagine you would see him again even if he really was in the city. New York city was huge. Way too big for you to bump into him more than once.

So, after clearing your head and reminding yourself that you couldn’t put your entire world on pause just because you thought that you might have seen him. You went back into the routines that you had avoided in an irrational fear of seeing Wonwoo again.

You strapped on your shoes, pulling your hair back out of your face as you started off on your morning run. Not getting up an hour early for work to go on your run around the block and into central park had honestly ended up making you feel a lot less healthy, so you were kind of glad to be back out in the cool park air.

Of course, you were only glad for so long, because no matter how loudly the beats were pumping in your ear, and how constant your running pace was, when you turned the corner and once again saw Jeon Wonwoo there was nothing you could do to deny that it was him.

This time, he was with someone else- smiling and laughing with a man who was skinnier than him with long blonde hair that fall too far into his face for you to recognize him. He had on trainers and a pair of jogging pants. His glasses were perched delicately on his nose, but as he laughed you worried that he would somehow end up knocking them off of his face anyways.

It was hard to deny this time that he was truly standing there, and to make matters worse, the fact that it was really truly him was only confirmed when you ran smack-dab into his chest.

You let out a grunt as you fell back on your ass, your nose scrunching in frustration.

So much for being low key.

“Hey are you...” Wonwoo’s words died on his tongue as you looked up at him, brushing your hair clumsily out of your face. “O-oh.”

You didn’t speak a word as you helped yourself up to your feet, brushing your pants off. You wondered how awful it would be if you just left without saying anything... But you also didn’t want to be that kind of person, so instead you turned your attention to his friend.

Now, you recognized him.

You hadn’t spent a lot of time with Wonwoo’s friends, but you had spent some time with them, and this was by far Jeonghan, his New York friend who was pursuing a career as an indie performer here in New York. Duh- You cursed yourself for forgetting such essential information.

“Jeonghan,” you greeted with a dip of your head. Then, turning your attention back to Wonwoo you forced a smile. “Wonwoo... I didn’t know you were in New York.”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo agreed, his voice soft. “I didn’t know that you were either.”

The silence that fell between you was heavy, and after a good awkward moment or two, you felt that it was finally appropriate to leave.

“I have... Work...”

Smooth.

Before anyone could question your random blurt you began to run off, plugging your ear buds back in your ears, as you scrambled to get away. While you couldn’t hear anything as you jogged away from the two boys, you could feel Wonwoo’s sharp gaze on you as you ran away.

Seeing Wonwoo twice in New York city was a hell of a coincidence, but after those first two times you started to see him literally everywhere you went.

When you were commuting to work, if you dared to go drinking with coworkers, as you went out with friends and if you went shopping. No matter what you were doing and where you went, you saw Wonwoo. Neither of you ever spoke to one another, but you knew that he could see you.

Sometimes you thought that he would come talk to you... Despite how much time had passed his behavior was still the same. You recognized the way that he would square his jaw when his saw you, shifting his weight as if he were about to approach you.

Anytime you thought he would then you rushed away, not wanting to risk what you would do if you did speak to him.

Seeing him these last few days... All it had served in doing was to remind you just how badly you missed him and how much you wanted to be with him again.

You two had talked briefly about what it would be like to visit another city. While Wonwoo hadn’t been very excited to go out as much as you would probably want to, he had gotten excited to see the different sights with you. He had quickly admitted that he thought he would enjoy spending time out as long as you didn’t stray from his side.

It was probably one of the more romantic things that he had ever said to you.

Which is why you couldn’t let yourself get back together with him. People didn’t change, you knew that you had been told that a million times. Wonwoo wouldn’t be any different now then he had been in the past. You couldn’t fall for him all over again just because you missed him and the way that things used to be.

But seeing him.... All it did was make you want to go back to him and that was why you texted Soonyonug inviting him to come visit you in the city for the first time in a few months.

Because you knew that being around Soonyoung would remind you that you didn’t need Wonwoo in your life. You had good friends, a great job, and all of the time in the world to find someone who would respect you for who you were.

“Y/n!” Soonyoung exclaimed excitedly. You looked up from where you had been sitting at the airport, smiling when you saw your friend approaching you from the nearby terminal. You stood up, and pushed your phone into your back pocket, barely able to look back up before Soonyoung clobbered you in a hug.

You laughed out as you stumbled back down on to the bench, trying to keep your balance so that you and Soonyoung didn’t fall down to the floor.

“Soonyoung- Soonyoung I can’t breathe,” you gasped out. He laughed, but pulled off of you, smiling at you largely.

“Sorry, sorry. I just missed you is all,” he mumbled, brushing his hair out of his face. Since the last time you had seen him, he had changed a little bit. He had dyed his hair to a light pink and was wearing a pair of fake glasses. It seemed strange to you, so you pushed the glasses up on his nose as a way to question him about it.

“Oh these?” He asked softly. He stood back up, retrieving the luggage that he had dropped in the meantime. “It’s a part of my image.”

In the last two years, Soonyoung’s life had drastically changed. He went from being just another guy in your town with a full-time job at the supermarket to being a professional choreographer in Los Angeles. He was quite popular these days, but his fans were always pretty respectable and kept a distance from him, so he didn’t ever worry about people recognizing him and going crazy.

“What? People like nerds in glasses?”

Soonyoung scoffed.

“Everyone looks better in glasses. I’ve gained like three hundred followers thanks to these babies.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes.

Despite the fact that you had invited Soonyoung to New York specifically so that you could figure out how to deal with the sudden reappearance of Wonwoo in your life, when it came to actually owning up to the reason for his invite you simply couldn’t manage to say a word.

Instead you let him drag you around the city, taking picture after picture of him in front of every monument that he wanted you to. You smiled and laughed, and you acted like you had no reason to be stressed in the least.

And lucky for you, the high of taking a nearly six-hour nonstop flight from Los Angeles to New York City meant that Soonyoung was high energy, and distracted to the point that he had no clue that you had any ulterior motives.

“Let’s get some coffee,” Soonyoung suggested. “We never get coffee when I visit you. I feel like I’m missing out on the New York City experience.”

You rolled your eyes and looked over Soonyoung’s shoulder at his phone.

“Which of your hot fans wants to hook up in the bathroom of a coffee shop?” You asked with a roll of your eyes. Soonyoung scoffed, placing a hand over his heart.

“What do you think I am?”

“A fuckboy,” you replied bluntly. He laughed and shoved you aside.

“Come on, take me to a coffee shop,” he pouted. You rolled your eyes, and tried to pull away from him, but as you shifted, he followed you, wrapping his fingers around your arm. He dragged you closer to him, and pouted.

“Please,” he begged. You groaned. “Unless there is some reason you should dislike coffee shops-”

“Fine fine, I’ll take you to a coffee shop,” you blurted back. The sudden blurt made Soonyoung’s eyebrows draw together.

“Is there a reason that you should dislike coffee shops?”

You laughed.

“It’s New York City, how could I not dislike coffee shops?” You retorted with a chuckle. Soonyoung didn’t particularly seem convinced by the statement so you pointed down the street. “Look we are right by my office and there is a great place down the street for coffee. I’ll take you there right now.”

As unconvincing as you were pretty sure you sounded, it was enough to distract Soonyoung from his previous suspicion.

He skipped around you excitedly as you two wandered to the coffee shop- even stopping when he saw a mural of a tiger in an alleyway just for a few pictures in front of it. You did your best not to worry too much as you guys approached it.

Sure, you saw Wonwoo there once, but that was it! The likelihood of seeing him there twice was just too low.

You two walked into the coffee shop, and you practically hid yourself in Soonyoung’s back as he looked up at the menu. He didn’t seem to notice your racing anxieties as you stealthily looked around the restaurant for any sign of the man you had been so desperately avoiding these days.

It wasn’t until you were almost entirely at peace, convinced that he wasn’t there that your eyes found the counter, and surely enough- there was Jeon Wonwoo and this time he was staring right at you.

You looked away from him quickly and looked back at Soonyoung, slipping your hand into his. Soonyoung gave you a confused side glance at that but you just smiled and gestured towards the board.

“What are you getting?” You asked him quietly.

Wonwoo was no idiot. You knew that he wouldn’t even for a moment think that you and Soonyoung were dating. You had assured him a million times that there was no reason to be worried about that in the least. You and Soonyoung were practically related.

But you also knew that Wonwoo would never risk talking to you while Soonyoung was by your side. Because Soonyoung would never let you talk to Wonwoo, he was too protective of a friend. You were suddenly really glad that you had invited Soonyoung to come visit you.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom. Get me an Americano okay?” Soonyoung stated. Before you could protest, Soonyoung was walking away from you, leaving you alone there completely vulnerable to Wonwoo. For once there was no escape, nowhere to run.

So much for Soonyoung being the perfect barrier.

You sucked in a breath and reminded yourself that the likelihood of Wonwoo even actually talking to you was ridiculously low. After all you guys were broken up and Soonyoung may be gone for the moment but he wouldn’t be gone for long. Surely, Wonwoo wouldn’t run the risk of-

“Hey,” you felt your body tense at the word, but you tried not to let it show too much that you were freaked out by his voice. Instead you let your body relax and turned around.

You didn’t let any emotion cross your face, you kept your gaze cold, and tentatively rose a single eyebrow towards him.

“Hey,” you mumbled back. Wonwoo looked uncomfortable by the cold way that you were acting towards him, but you didn’t let that affect the way that you held yourself. You shifted your weight and glanced across the room at the clock on the wall, making it clear that you wanted to leave as soon as you could.

He sighed and raised his hand to the back of his neck, rubbing at the strands of hair there uncertainly. You remembered times in which you had been standing close to him your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you stared up into his eyes.

You remembered the way he would smile at you as you toyed with his strands, tell you that you were one of the most beautiful people he had ever laid his eyes on. He had always had a way with words when it was just the two of you.

You sort of missed that about being with him. Just hearing what he had to say and how he was going to say it, and knowing that he would always have the most perfect and eloquent response to everything...

“I, uh...” He trailed off, his mind clearly racing to find the right words to say. “We’ve been, um, seeing one another around a lot recently haven’t we?”

That was an understatement, but you tried your best not to say that. You just sighed and crossed your arms over your chest uncomfortably.

“So?” You asked him, keeping your voice curt. “Doesn’t explain why you’re suddenly talking to me.”

“Just... Thought I would ask you how you are,” he replied. He wasn’t annoyed, he was being patient, but that didn’t come as any surprise. Wonwoo had always been so patient with you.

“Fine,” You said. “Bit busy.”

Wonwoo gave you a helpless look when you let the atmosphere back to what it had been before. You could tell he was trying desperately to just have one good interaction with you so that he could slowly bring you back into his life.

But while you knew that you wanted to let him do that. You weren’t sure if it was in your best interest to actually let yourself get dragged back into a relationship with him. You, of course, knew what Soonyoung would have to say about that.

“Wonwoo, I’m trying really, really hard to move on from you,” you whispered, your hard exterior dropping a little. Wonwoo’s eyebrows shot up at the admittance, but you could tell he was happy for your words nonetheless.

“Me too,” he agreed. “It was hard at first... You did so much for me that I never even realized you did.”

You scoffed, but Wonwoo didn’t stop at that.

“You were right. I really did take you for granted.”

You were surprised to hear Wonwoo say that. It wasn’t that Wonwoo wouldn’t apologize for things he had done wrong it was more like... He didn’t often voice things like that to you. It was hard to get him to open up about his thoughts and in the end, you had felt like you hadn’t really known him at all. It was one of the reasons that built to you two ending it.

“Wonw-”

“Is it too late... To ask for you back?” Wonwoo asked you. His voice was soft, and his eyes were no longer holding your gaze. “I know it’s selfish, but seeing you so much these last few days made me realize just how much I miss you... I want you back in my life so badly.”

“I...” You trailed off, thinking hard about what to say next, but before you could answer you felt a hand land on your shoulder.

“What are you doing here?”

Wonwoo took a physical step away from you, raising his hands in the air and you glanced to your side to look at the person who had joined you.

“Just talking.”

“Say the word, and I’ll kick his skinny-”

“Soonyoung it’s fine,” you interrupted your eyebrows raising slightly. Soonyoung glanced at you, seeming to try and decipher if you were lying or not. You gave him half an eye roll and gestured for him to leave you alone again.

He didn’t move, he just stayed there by your side.

“Are you sure?” He asked you. He turned his attention back over to Wonwoo, his eyebrows narrowing at the boy.  You nodded, placing your hand on his wrist.

“Yeah, I’m sure... I want to talk to him.”

Soonyoung looked surprised by that, and Wonwoo did too. His eyebrows shot up and he teetered slightly in his spot.

“Really?” He asked.

You shrugged, turning your attention back to him. Despite the fact that Soonyoung was there, you felt pretty naked, like it was just you and Wonwoo in the room and that whatever you said next would be completely detrimental towards the outcome of the situation you had found yourself in. The words you said next could only be the truth. Otherwise, all of this would mean nothing.

“I... I've missed you,” was all you could manage to say back. You took a shaky breath and subconsciously reached down to your side to grip on to Soonyoung’s hand more firmly. You looked back over to Soonyoung, trying to keep a grip on reality. Soonyoung looked back at you, and you could tell that he really wanted to drag you out of there.

Part of you really wanted him to do that too. But the other part of you reminded you that you also really wanted to give Wonwoo a second chance. Maybe... Maybe people could change. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt you to give this relationship a second shot.

And maybe that small piece of you that felt like a part of you had been missing since the moment that you and Wonwoo had broken up would come back to you if you gave him a second chance.

You were startled out of your thoughts by Wonwoo’s hands prodding at yours. He took the hand of yours that was dangling at your side, and then gently coaxed the hand that was holding Soonyoung’s away from your friend, and into his. You smiled to yourself at the feeling of having Wonwoo’s hands back in yours.

It felt so familiar... Made you feel safe.

You allowed your eyes to wander back to Wonwoo’s and when you did you noticed a faint blush spread over his cheeks.

“I never stopped loving you,” he whispered. “Give me a second chance. We’ll go out to the fanciest restaurant and I will tell everyone we see that you are mine and I’ll hold your hand and-”

“Wonwoo,” you interrupted, a small laugh on your lips. You wanted to kiss him, but you also knew that wasn’t the best idea on the planet. “You don’t have to do all that just for a second chance. I’ll go on the date with you.”

You started to look away from him, but before you really could, Wonwoo had tightened his grip on your hands, dragging your attention back to him.

“I won’t let you feel unloved this time around,” he promised you. “I can’t promise I’ll be perfect but every night when you go to sleep there will be no doubt in your mind. I love you. I love you.”

You felt like crying, and you weren’t really sure why him saying that made you want to cry so badly. So instead of crying, you did something equally as emotional. You rushed forward, wrapping your arms around his chest, burying your face into his neck.

He was surprised at first, but barely hesitated to wrap his arms around your body and hold you firm against his body.

“I love you too Wonwoo... Let’s last a lot longer this time okay?”

You didn’t have to see his face to know that Wonwoo was smiling.

“Okay.”

I’ll never miss you again, my shining star

Next Song: Bebe by WJSN

[hquirks]

Karasuno & Karaoke Bar Headcanons Pt. 3

School: Karasuno

Genre: Headcanons, fluff, crack

Warnings: some alcohol mentions (everyone’s aged up for it!)

A/N: This is a Haikyuu!! Headcannon where Karasuno friends go to a karaoke bar. Part 3 consists of Karasuno 3rd Years and the coaches (Daichi, Sugawara, Asahi, Kiyoko, Takeda, Ukai)

by Noodle, BananaMilk, & FriedOmurice

SAWAMURA DAICHI

Tries his best but he’s monotone

Tries to be in charge of the list of songs but fails because Narita keeps stealing it from him 

Old fashioned, sings songs from 70s~80s

SINGS COUNTRY ROADS WITH HIS WHOLE HEART

The whole team supports his embarrassing tendencies

(Except Tsukki, who pretends he does not know anybody)

Often gets score under 20

He also ends up being DD with Ennoshita. HOWEVER, once he has alcohol, he ACTUALLY becomes embarrassing dad x 100

You thought Country Roads was bad?? He pulls up with his renditions of Dolly Parton songs (Jolene and 9 to 5) and will pull out old Taylor Swift

(I’m telling you “Tear Drops on my Guitar” is his go to cry song)

SUGAWARA KOSHI

He actually sings????? Has the voice of angel that suits ballads but also sings pop.

Keeps up with the trends

Knows the weirdest songs (the 7th element by Vitas is one of his favorites)

Will hype up the members but not has energetic as Noya or Tanaka

Usually is the one who apologies for the member’s behaviors when they are too loud especially Nishinoya.

BUT if he has an ounce of alcohol in him,,,,,

HE BECOMES THE PROBLEM

Ends up having a karaoke battle with anyone who looks at him weird

THERE IS NO DOUBT IN MY MIND THAT SUGA KNOWS GIRL GROUP DANCES

When Yachi and Asahi are singing girl group songs, he is dancing ON BEAT to the song

Coaches Yachi and Asahi with their girl group dances

AZUMANE ASAHI

Fixes his hair with determination before singing (Noya usually pushes him into singing especially when he drunk)

When he gets REALLLY into it, he will push his hair back with a headband or hair tie. 

He actually can sing because his parents forced him to take vocal lessons as a kid.

He loves his ballads. The sadder it is, the more he loves it.

When he gets drunk (which is too easy bc he’s a lightweight), he will join Yachi in doing GG songs (like TT or What is Love by Twice)

He also gets really nervous like Yams so he ends up going to the bathroom a lot

But his just comes from his nervous unlike Yams who’s need to use the bathroom comes from drinking too much water BECAUSE he is nervous

SHIMIZU KIYOKO

She has a wide vocal range, has descended from heaven

Also specializes in lower tone

Is embarrassed to sing in front of all the people, but gets really into it when the song starts. The type of person who sings with her eyes closed.

Nishinoya and Tanaka shush everyone so she can start. She doesn’t know because she closes her eyes, but no one can take eyes off her when she sings. The crowd wants to go wild but they know she’ll give them the cold eyes so they just cheer in their head.

Enjoys singing duets with Yachii but will not doing any GG songs at all so they end up doing a lot of Disney songs

Probably A Whole New World let’s be real

TAKEDA SENSEI (TAKEDA ITETSU)

A WHOLE MUSICAL LOVER

Like loves to go watch musicals in his free time and will go to the city of Tokyo for all them

(he’s a season pass holder actually)

So, he’s always singing his heart out to musicals

Will sing the more popular songs like from Wicked, Cats, Phantom of the Opera

BUT will occasionally pull out a wild card like something from Tuck Everlasting or Come From Away

Brings blankets to karaoke

He literally had to promise to buy dinner for Coach Ukai so that he would come out for Karaoke

Probably forces Coach to do a duet with him (the boys have this all saved these on their phones while Coach makes them do extra diving drills for it lmfaooo)

COACH UKAI (UKAI KEISHIN)

He loves his old rock songs. Usually old Japanese songs but won’t hesitate to go for the Eagles or Pink Floyd

Will glare at anyone who tries to record him singing and promises them that they will PAYYY for it in the next practice. 

Tanaka and Nishi still do it, but with their lives on the line(Ennoshita was smarter and managed to record it then distribute it quietly to the other members)

Will never admit it but he actually loves hanging out with his boys

When he is not singing, he is often smiling at the boys’s antics and laughter since he knows they work very hard to be the best they can be. 

He actually wants to get better at singing so he’s working at the store and there’s nobody around, he’ll sing a little. One time his mom catches him, and she’s like “Keishin, what are you doing?” HE’S SO EMBARRASSED LOL

[cdelphiki]

Bruce could tell instantly that Damian’s night had been a rough one. 

Aside from the obvious bruising on his arms, an unusual occurrence, despite what one might expect considering his nighttime hobby, his son looked worn down. And the way he just kind of, plopped down on the couch next to Bruce was the real indicator of how rough his night really was. 

Because Damian just looked…. defeated. In a way he hadn’t looked in, well, perhaps years. 

The worrisome thing, however, was tonight was one of his ‘adventuring’ nights, as Clark called it. His little playdate with the Kent boy, as they tromped around Metropolis and Gotham and found cases to solve. 

It was cute, Bruce hated to admit, how Damian and Jon ran around. They were doing good work, solid cases and everything. But something about the two of them, together, while working the cases just brought a smile to Bruce’s face. 

His kid was being a kid, he had finally realized, maybe five playdates into his and Clark’s grand scheme to make the boys friends. 

And it had worked. Damian and Jon were the best of friends now. At times, they were inseparable. Bruce had even sprung to send Damian to school in another city, just to foster that connection he finally had to another child. 

But Damian was supposed to come home from his adventure nights happy. Not defeated. 

“What did you do tonight?” Bruce asked, his voice a low rumble, just audible above the crackle coming from the fireplace. The cold night wind howling against the window. He pretended to continue reading his book, while he waited for Damian to answer. 

He’d been waiting up for Damian, as he always did when the boy stayed out late, but would never admit that were the case. Damian would likely throw a tantrum about trust and not being a child. 

Never was it acceptable to say, ‘but you are a child,’ to him. No matter how Bruce phrased that, Damian never appreciated it. But Bruce was glad Damian was a child, because he’d already missed so much of Damian’s life. He wasn’t about to wish away a single second more of his childhood. 

Damian shifted, tilted his head just slightly, before he finally said, “We saved Ms. Lane from a sniper.”

Bruce couldn’t help it. His eyebrows shot right up. He trusted the boys, he did, but that sounded like something they probably should have brought him and Clark in on. Since it involved his wife and all.

“Wow,” he said, after pausing a moment to make sure no anger would come out in his voice, “Who was the sniper? What was the motivation?”

The response Damian gave was not at all what he was expecting. Some gang, maybe. Or a hitman hired by a politician Lois had written a hit piece on. Or, hell, some random villain wanting to hurt Superman. 

But no. Because Damian took a deep, shuttering breath, before simply saying, “Mother.” 

And Bruce couldn’t help the sharp breath he took at the mention of the woman. 

“She was just trying to get my attention,” Damian said, before Bruce could ask. He pulled his feet up onto the couch and sat there, criss cross, right next to Bruce. Staring off into the fire.

Bruce… didn’t really know what to do. What to say. Damian’s relationship with Talia was… complicated. He knew she had been a loving mother to him, at one point. That Damian had adored and loved her, even after he’d come to live with Bruce. But in recent years, really ever since Talia disowned him, he’d become more jaded in his view of his mother. 

It was a shame. No boy deserved to have such a difficult relationship with a parent. Especially not his mother. 

“She-” Damian started, then paused to clear his throat. His hand twitched, from its spot on his knee. Like he wanted to rub at his face, but stopped himself. Bruce wished Damian felt safer breaking down in front of people. 

“She’s still the same. Exactly the same.”

He nodded, to Damian’s confession. Unsure really what to even say. Bruce pulled his leg up on the couch, however, so he could turn towards Damian better. He let his hand brush across Damian’s neck as he placed his arm behind his son’s back, and just sat there. Hoping to covey that he was there for Damian without invading his space too badly. Damian wasn’t always receptive to physical affection, but sometimes, if offered without being blatant about it, Damian would accept. 

“I’m just a weapon to her,” Damian whispered bitterly, finally reaching up to wipe at his cheek. Even though Bruce hasn’t seen a single tear escape his eye. “An object,” he added, with a touch more anger, scowling at the fire now. 

But Bruce could see it, in the way he pursed his lips. In the slight twitch of his eye, the quiver of his hand. He was grasping onto the anger to stave off the tears.

“Damian,” Bruce started, but then paused. Because he really wasn’t sure what to say. How to fix this, and make Damian not want to cry. ‘You are not a weapon to me,’ he could say, but Damian already knew that. ‘I’m sorry about your mother’ felt insincere. As did any false promises that ‘it will be okay’ or ‘she’ll come around.’ He couldn’t even say ‘She loves you,’ because Bruce wasn’t even sure that was true. 

And, God. How could anyone not love this child? 

It hurt, sometimes, how much he felt for Damian. Just seeing his son could elicit a jab right in his chest. Because he was just so damn glad to have the privilege of being Damian Wayne’s father. 

He wished Talia had felt the same. If only for Damian’s sake.

“Get your coat,” he settled on, startling Damian. Pulling him right out of his war between emotions. 

He blinked over at Bruce and asked, “What, Father?” 

“Your coat,” Bruce repeated, standing as he placed a bookmark in his book and tossed it at the coffee table, “and meet me at the Tesla.” 

“What about shoes,” Damian said dryly, wiggling his socked feet in Bruce’s direction. 

Bruce just smiled and turned from his retreat out of the room to say, “Won’t need them.”

“What?” Damian said again, this time even more confused, but Bruce didn’t give him an opportunity to continue his questions. Instead, he went to grab his own coat and start up the Tesla, so it would be nice and warm by the time Damian made his way out.

It would be a little chilly, after all, in just the thin cotton pajamas Damian was wearing. It wasn’t quite winter, but it had started dipping into the upper 30s at night. Far too cold for Bruce’s liking.

They didn’t talk much, once in the car. Damian asked only once, “Where are we going?” but Bruce had refused to answer.

“Trust me,” he had said, so Damian did. At least, he didn’t question Bruce again. Instead, he started fiddling with the radio, flipping through all 19 stations twice until he finally settled on an easy listening channel.

Not what Bruce would have expected from his 13-year-old, but he wasn’t complaining, either. He was pretty sure rap or… or dubstep would have really affected the more somber atmosphere in the car. Was dubstep still a thing? He was pretty sure that’s what Tim was into at 13. Or maybe that was Jason…

When Bruce pulled into the Sonic parking lot, Damian turned and raised an eyebrow at him. “What are we doing?” he asked, as Bruce parked next to one of the order boards.

“Strawberry cheesecake?” Bruce asked instead, smiling a little at the way Damian perked up, just slightly at the mention of his favorite milkshake flavor. He still didn’t look happy, but at least he wasn’t down enough to refuse a treat when offered.

“Yes,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt and scooting his chair back as far as it would go. Not that he needed the extra space to sit criss cross. 

Bruce ordered them both the strawberry shakes, along side a large order of tatertots and mozzarella sticks. Neither of those for any particular reason, just because he enjoyed both fried monstrosities, and if he were going to cheat on his diet he might as well go all the way. 

It was for Damian, after all. That’s what he would tell himself. 

“There used to be this drive-in,” Bruce said, after he’d finished ordering and swiped his credit card as payment. He’d shut the window back and flicked on his seat warmer, too, just to help warm the car a little more. Make it more comfortable. 

Bruce had picked a spot where they could watch the traffic pass by on the road in front of them, and Damian seemed to be appreciating it, because he didn’t take his eyes off the cars to listen to Bruce.

“It was a little closer to the house,” he continued, “Dad would take me there, sometimes. He was a doctor, you know, and worked weird hours. Sometimes, after a particularly rough day, he’d come home and find me still awake, so we’d go to the drive-in in our pajamas and order milkshakes.” 

“Hm,” Damian said, looking down at his own pajamas and then back out at the cars ahead.

“It wasn’t usually for me,” Bruce said, following Damian’s gaze out toward the cars, “It was to help reorient himself and refocus on the good in his life. I knew that, even at 6. Just maybe not in those words.” 

“And you brought me here because…” Damian said, frowning. Shaking his head, a little. 

“Because we’ve both had rough days.” 

Damian stiffened and asked, “What happened on patrol tonight, Father? Did I miss something?” And Bruce hated how Damian got anxious, at the drop of the hat. 

“Oh, nothing,” he said easily, waving a hand at Damian, as if to dismiss all his concerns, brush away the unnecessary anxiety, “Patrol was fine. A little dull, if anything. 

“Tt. Did something happen at work?” he asked, scrunching his eyebrows at Bruce, now, clearly absolutely baffled as to how Bruce could have had a bad day.

“No,” he said patiently, trying to smile reassuringly, “My son came home banged up and upset.”

“I- oh.” Damian blinked. Once. Twice. Then looked down at his lap, as if studying his hands were much more interesting than talking to Bruce. Or, perhaps, less scary. 

“I hate seeing you like that,” he offered. Meaning both upset and banged up, and anxious and uncomfortable talking to his own father. 

In a too-small voice for the boisterous 13-year-old Bruce knew and loved, Damian said, “I-I didn’t mean to bother you, Father.” 

“Damian,” Bruce said, pinching his nose. Because that was absolutely not what he had been thinking. 

He was so terrible at this. He always came across as an asshole, to all his children. Some were more prone to point it out than others, but Bruce could see it. And perhaps he was an asshole. If Damian’s first response was to blame himself and apologize for coming to Bruce when he was upset. 

God. 

“That was not what I meant. I meant-” Bruce sighed, so Damian turned to him and just sat there. Kind of staring. No real emotion registering on his face, but his eyes were so big and bright with the street lights and dash reflecting in them. The brilliant green of his iris flecked with the blue and yellow. Blinking at him, just waiting for whatever he had to say. 

“I just meant,” he continued, unable to look away from his son’s eyes, “I hate seeing you hurt. Not because it’s an inconvenience, but because you’re my son…”

Damian broke eye contact first, looking down as his face pinched, ever so slightly. His cheek twitched and his nose wrinkled. Bruce would have recognized what he was trying to prevent, even if he hadn’t looked away to hide the sheen of tears.

“…and I love you,” he finished, his own voice a little wet.

At that, Damian’s face crumpled completely, and he brought a hand up to rest against one side of his face. 

His crying was silent, as it always was. Barely there, hardly noticeable unless one was looking directly at his face. Bruce would never know, passing by Damian’s room, if he were crying alone. 

It was just another one of the many quirks that made up Damian Wayne. He wished Damian had never learned this skill, never needed to learn it, but he wouldn’t change his son for the world. 

Well, actually. If given the opportunity to trade the world for a happy, safe childhood for Damian, he might have a difficult time saying no. 

“Your mot-” he started, but then stopped as someone knocked on his window. Bruce scowled for Damian to see, not that he was even looking, then turned around with one of his aloof smiles plastered on his face. 

“Thank you,” he said, when the girl handed him a bag, two milkshakes, and his receipt. He placed the milkshakes in the cupholders, and the bag in Damian’s lap. Even though the boy was looking away now, trying to regain his composure, no doubt, before Bruce refocused his attention back on him. 

“My pleasure,” the far-too-chipper girl said for 4 in the morning, “Can I get you anything else?”

After answering in the negative and bidding her a good night, Bruce rolled the window back up and turned to face his son. 

Damian had smoothed out his expressions again, and was now staring down into the open bag, just looking down at the food inside. 

“Where was I?” Bruce mused, reaching over to pull the straws out of the bag and open them both, for the milkshakes, “Oh, yes. Your mother is a bitch.” 

That got a startled laugh out of Damian, who quickly clamped his hands over his mouth while he cut his eyes over at Bruce. He lowered his hands, but it seemed he couldn’t keep the tiny little smile off his face, even after Bruce had let the comment settle. 

“Look,” he said, sticking a straw in one of the milkshakes, then handing it to Damian, “I don’t know what happened to tonight, or what she said to you, but Damian… you are so much more than her son. You are not a weapon, for starters.”

“I know,” Damian said, nodding as he used his straw to mix the milkshake a little. 

“She may have had a hand in creating you, but so did I.”

When all Damian did was frown down at his milkshake, now resting in his lap, Bruce set his own down and turned in his seat so he was fully facing his son. He gently turned Damian’s head so he was looking at Bruce, then placed a hand on either side of his face.

“And, Damian, you are so much more than just something we created,” he said, patting a little, begging his words to penetrate. To bounce around and stick in there. Record themselves and replay, whenever necessary. 

“You are so much more than us,” he continued, “You are Damian Wayne, and I cannot put into words how much I admire you or how much I adore you.”

It was no surprise when he felt hot tears on his thumbs, from where Damian failed to keep them in. Because his own eyes were playing the same game, just perhaps not as quickly as Damian’s. 

Bruce pulled Damian’s head a little closer as he leaned down, so he could plant a kiss right on his forehead, all while wiping the tears away with his thumbs, “So don’t let whatever it is she said bring you down. You are perfect exactly as you are, I wouldn’t change a thing.” 

“Dad-” Damian choked out, fully devolving into sobs. Actual, noisy ones… or noisy for Damian, at least. Bruce let go long enough to take his milkshake and set it back in the cupholder, so Damian could throw his arms around Bruce. 

All Bruce did was hug back. Hold his son for as long as he needed. Replay that one little word over and over in his head. 

Because Damian was finally letting his hurt out, and there was no way he would cut it short. No matter how cold the mozzarella sticks got or how melted the milkshakes became. 

When Damian finally sat up, he scrubbed lazily at his face and smiled, a little lopsided, when Bruce offered a napkin. 

“So this is what your dad used to do with you?” he asked, after he’d blown his nose and picked up his milkshake. 

“Sure is.” Bruce grabbed the discarded bag and pulled out the box of mozzarella sticks. “Here, try one of these.” 

Damian did, but made a face at it when the cheese just broke apart. Not even a hint of stretchy, melty goodness. 

“They’re better warm. We’ll heat them up at home, and I’ll show you.” 

“I’ll take your word for it,” Damian said, dropping his half eaten cheese stick in the box with the others, “The milkshake is good, though.”

“Isn’t it? You have a good taste in favorites.”

And with that, Damian smiled fully, and took another long slurp of his milkshake, his smile not fading for the rest of their visit. 

The conversation shifted from topic to topic from there, straying between other ice cream flavors to school to upcoming plans. They didn’t talk about Damian’s night again, and Damian didn’t seem to even be thinking about it, anymore. 

As they drove home, and Damian dozed off in the seat next to him, he started thinking that maybe they’d have to start a new tradition. Clearly his dad was on to something, with the midnight drives to get milkshakes. 

It was, indeed, the perfect cure for a rough night. 

[beyondflashpoint]

Prologue 2: Homeward Bound :

“I don’t understand the detour, Todd. We could have made port directly in Gotham bay and gone directly to father. Your palaver with the addict in Steel city cost us days. Hours at best.”

Jason rolled his eyes. He could sense the kid’s unease even without glancing at him in the rearview. A slight vocalization from the passenger seat indicated that Cassie agreed with the kid.

“First, the ‘addict’ has a name. Roy is an old friend. Second, that pal-whatever got us this car, so we aren’t walking. Third, the League would be expecting us to make landfall in Gotham, and I feel like an extended ninja fight would waste more time than my plan and also draw a lot more unwanted attention. Relax Damian. We’ll have you playing catch with daddy-dearest soon enough.”

“Smart.” Cassie said from beside him, her voice low and gravely from underuse. He couldn’t be sure, but Jason thought she sounded surprised. At least she was talking now, even if it was only one or two words every few days. The constant charades made his head hurt.

Damian clicked his tongue in that annoying way he did and prepared to retort, but Jason nipped that in the bud.

“Bruce has a bunker in Blüdhaven where we can swipe some equipment and feel out the situation in Gotham. According to Roy, Lady Shiva has been spotted in G-town, and there haven’t been any killings that fit her m.o., so it’s safe to assume the League dispatched her to catch us. So caution is the word.”

Cassie shifted uncomfortably at her mother’s name. They had never been close, but they had left things especially messy, as in duel to the death, excommunication messy. Shiva would kill Cassie on sight, and Jason probably not long after. Returning Damian al’Ghul to the Demon’s side was priority one. If he had to guess, Shiva would have deployed with a full attachment, foot soldiers and four other heavy hitters. A full Demon’s Fist, as the League called it. That could be very bad for G-town. Jason was by no means eager to put on tights again, but Bruce’s uniforms offered much better protection than swiped tourist threads, and he needed all the extra time he could get to figure out exactly how this reunion was going to go.

‘Hi Bruce, I’m not dead anymore. Ras dunked me in the Lazarus Pit. Also, I kinda kidnapped your son from Talia because Ras was planning on having him kill you. Also, you have a son. In case you didn’t know. Also this is Lady Shiva’s daughter, but she’s cool. She kicks ass and has decided to leave the League. Also the League is after us.’

Bruce would have a stroke. Maybe he should lead with the son thing.

Jason merged as they approached the exit he wanted.

Come to think of it, there were probably a few of his old friends running the streets of his old stomping grounds. Probably most of them were dead or incarcerated, but one or two of them had to be out and about. He could use eyes on the streets, and slum kids saw things that even the big bad bat didn’t. He’d look into it.

Five years changed things. Roy was a big indication of that. Before Jason’s temporary vacation from the mortal coil, Roy Harper had been a Titan, and Jason’s top guy in the team. Finding out that he’d dropped the mask game had been shocking enough, but the fact that he had been hooked on H AND working out rehab really opened his eyes. Roy had stayed in touch with Dick, as an unofficial sponsor, but he’d completely cut off Olly and the rest of the Star City crew. And now he was running a garage, just a few hours out of the Haven. Jason shuddered to think how the Batfam had changed. And now that he thought about it, five years may as well be fifty on the streets, especially in the Haven.

When Bruce had taken him in, the Red Hood gang had mostly run the Haven, and the less formal Hoodz had sprung up to replace the smaller crews and cliques that permeated Blüdhaven. Time served with the Hoodz could lead to an opportunity at the big leagues with the real Red Hood Gang. That had been Jason’s plan, which had put him in the alley where the batmobile had been parked, which had made him hungry enough for the cred that would come from boosting the tires from the Bat’s whip, which had led him to getting caught by the big bad bat, yadda-yadda, Robin, mother, Clown, crowbar.

But the Hoodz had already been on their way out even back then, with the Black Mask Gang snatching turf on the outskirts. Jason couldn’t begin to imagine who was running the Haven now.

They rode in silence until Jason finally parked in the alley. The sharpness and clarity of memory had to be a result of his dip in the pit. He’d only been to this bunker once, and it had been in the frantic haze of searching for his mother, the first stop on his way out of Gotham for the last time in his old life. Now it was his last stop on his way back to Gotham for the first time in his new life. Ka is a wheel, to quote Mr Stephen King.

He shook these thoughts off as he scanned the street, making sure their entry would go unnoticed, then opened the secret panel and typed the old code into the hidden keypad. The section of wall slid back, and opened to a flight of stairs and the blessed buzz of ac.

“Alright gang, to the bat-bunker.”

He started in without waiting for a reply. Lights buzzed to life as the trio descended the steps and were deposited into the armory. According to Roy, Dick had lived here until he’d gotten on his feet after splitting from Bruce. He still used it as a backup base/crash pad, and Jason could tell from the ratty couch and scattering of clothes. But Grayson was running with Titans 3.0 at the moment, looking into the evil tech dealer called H.I.V.E. so they would have the run of the place for now.

True to fashion, though Dick’s personal possessions were a mess, the armory itself was perfectly organized and orderly. Jason could barely suppress a scoff at the tube containing one of Barbara’s spare batsuits. Vintage black and yellow. He always suspected the two were hooking up. He and Dick didn’t agree on much, but both were of one mind when it came to red heads in tights. It was a shame Roy had let himself go recently. Before he could get too lost in that thought, he realized Damian and Cassandra were both staring at him expectantly.

“Right. We have a few hours of daylight left. I don’t want to move on Gotham till nightfall. Till then, I want you two taking inventory of the gear we have available to us. While you do that, I’ll grab us some food, and scope out the situation street side.”

“If I never have to eat any more of that greasy slop you call fast food, it will be too soon.” Damian said as he made close study of a wall of weapons Grayson had no doubt thought were cool as hell.

“Now you listen here, boy. Big Belly Burger is a staple of American fine dining, and I will not have you blaspheme against it like that in my presence. Besides, you and Cassie order and eat twice as much as I do every time we stop there.”

“TT.”

Cassandra grabbed his shoulder and shared a look that said her next words would be of the utmost importance.

“Milkshake. Strawberry.” She managed without any of the usual false starts.

“Actually, since we’re in the Haven, I thought I’d treat you two to the height of fine dining. Bibbo’s Diner is only a few blocks from here, and you haven’t lived until you’ve had his chicken and waffles.”

Alarm flashed in Cassandra’s eyes, but before it could settle, Jason reassured her.

“And Bibbo’s happens to be the home of the world famous Robin shake. Strawberry, chocolate and banana. It’ll be right up your alley Cassie. And their homemade peach cobbler is out of this world.”

She looked as if she was about to argue, then considered, and acquiesced, lulled into acceptance by the promise of a new sweet treat. The poor girl had been practically made to starve as part of her training. Combined with the laundry list of other abuses she’d faced, Jason had no problem shelling out the extra cash to keep her quickly developing sweet tooth satisfied. Besides, it wasn’t really his money.

It had been quite the adventure so far, and while Bruce would halve balked at Jason’s decision to loot scumbags they’d encountered along the six month journey from Nanda Parbat, Damian and Cassandra saw the necessity of it. Jason had found his people.

“Pull that suit on under your clothes Cass, it’s Kevlar microfiber woven over a layer of high density impact gel. Might not look like it, but it can stop a bullet. There might be an old Robin suit around here somewhere. You’ll know it if you see it. That might fit Damian. Gear up, stretch out, and be ready to move as soon as I get back. If something goes down while I’m gone, find the tallest building in town and wait for me on the roof.” As he talked, he scooped up a spare utility belt from the shelves and clipped it on his waist. A cursory search rewarded him with a tank top sporting the blue bird Dick used as a logo these days (because of corse Dick fucking Grayson bought his own merch), a flannel Jason could tie around his hips to hide the belt, a Gotham Knights cap, and a wad of cash Dick no doubt kept for emergencies.

This qualified, Jason rationalized as he stuffed the bills into a pouch on his belt. Satisfied with his civilian disguise, Jason returned his focus to the duo studying the tools laid out before them. Damian had slipped a samurai sword into his belt at some point and was now testing the weight of the stylized throwing stars (Wingdings?) laid out on the shelves. Cassandra was running through forms with a pair of batons, and was mildly startled by the arc of electricity that cracked between them when she happened upon the triggers. Shock turned to awe, turned to a pleased smirk. They’d be fine for a few hours. Probably.

He tried not to think too hard about the many ways they could kill, explode, or otherwise maim each other in his absence.

They’d be fine.

It took him an hour of scoping the usual hangs to get anything useful. The Row kids had relocated to an orphanage in G-town. The Brown girl and the kid that followed her like a lost puppy were m.i.a., Rome was in Blackgate, Garcia was dead, Diego dead, Carter dead, Crock m.i.a., Philippe jail, Jessie jail, dead, jail, jail, jail, dead, dead, Morales was working the youth center after a stint in Blackgate, which was good to hear. Finally he happened upon a decent lead, almost by accident.

One of his old crew from the Hoodz days was still out and about, and running a little cluster of the Hoodz.

Jason entered the ratty apartment Sasha shared with her father Nico though the fire escape. It was just as messy as he remembered. On the table beside the couch was a glass bowl, packed but untouched. It was tempting, but Jason hadn’t gotten high since his Robin days. The siren song of the crumpled pack of full flavored cigarettes, however, was irresistible. He plucked one free and lit it as he dropped into the tattered leather recliner across from the couch where Sasha snoozed. That first draw was harsh, and started him coughing. Five years had robbed him of his experienced smoker status.

Sasha groaned groggily, stirred by his hacking and sat up slowly, blindly groping for a cig herself.

“Told you to stop snatching my smokes if you can’t handle ‘em old man.” She chastised drowsily.

“Just out of practice Sash. Haven’t had one since the last time we talked.”

It took a moment for the strange voice to register, but when it did, her hand flew under her pillow. Before it came back out, Jason freed a birdarang (wingding?) and sent the glock flying.

“Fuck!”

“Shit, Sash, you pack now? I must’a missed a lot.”

Her eyes darted from her hand, which would be bruised for the next few days, and Jason, who chanced a longer drag from the stolen cigarette and pulled off his hat. This one went down smoothly.

“Jay-bird?” She stuttered as the pieces came together. Even without the shoot of white hair and the scars crisscrossing his face, five years was a lot of growing room.

“Nah. Nah, man. You died.” He leaned over the table, plucked another cig from the pack and offered it to her. She took it and let him light it.

“Didn’t take.”

“Dude, you definitely died. Me and the crew crashed the funeral, had to cause daddy Warbucks wouldn’t let no street rats in. News said you bought it in a skiing accident in the Alps or some shit.”

“I ain’t here for that Sash. I just want some info.”

She dropped the cigarette half smoked into an open beer can, opting to wake-and-bake instead. Jason couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t often you woke up to a ghost chilling in your living room. She took a few hits and offered him the pipe and lighter.

“Another time Sash. I got shit to do.”

“Right, and you need little Sasha to tell you what’s what. But little Sasha wants some info too, Jay-bird. Like where you been for five, and why you look like rough road.”

“I got blown up, and ninja’s in the Middle East brought me back to life and taught me ninja shit. My turn. Anyone strange running jobs in the Haven, or is it all Loco shit?”

“Hold up, ninjas? The fuck man?”

“Sash.” She hesitated, then took another hit from the bowl.

“Okay. Since you been gone, the Hoodz and the Black Masks called a truce to push out the Riddler gang. Falcone’s kid made a comeback, and is trying to take the whole Haven. Masks and Hoodz are gonna push him out too. His boys mostly run the Narrows. Then there’s this new guy my dad is running supplies for. Very strange. Outsider type. Fuckin spooky. He wears a pig mask and steals kids. The Masks are scared he’s gonna bring the Bat down on us. I’m not gonna lie, I kinda hope the Bat does come for him. I only seen him once and he freaked me out. Lucky you dropped in when you did. Dad’s talking about splitting soon. He don’t like Pig-face either.”

Jason listened intently. By the time she’d finished talking, he’d finished his cigarette. Paying attention was hard in that woozy high that came from the sudden influx of nicotine, but he’d gathered what he needed. The League wasn’t moving in Blüdhaven.

“You filled out good Jay-bird. I’d almost believe you were hanging with ninjas.”

Jarred from his thoughts, Jason stood, swiping another cigarette from the pack.

“I’d get out of town if I were you Sash. And out of gang-life.” He paused and scooped up the stylized ski-mask that marked members of the Hoodz. “I’d rather not have to crash your funeral.” She watched him make his way to the window, but said nothing.

With daylight to burn, Jason began his trek back to the bunker, taking a detour by Bibbo’s to acquire the promised delicacies.

He was not prepared for what his triumphant return to the bunker brought him.

Silence hung eerily over the now dark headquarters. The space had been tidied thoroughly, Dick’s discarded clothing organized, folded, and neatly stacked. Pinned to the chair in front of the large Bat Computer doppelgänger with a batarang (wingding?) was a note written in neat, curling scrawl which Jason instantly recognized as belonging to Damian.

“Todd,

In your absence I have determined that your course of action is actually strategically sound. After overcoming the computer’s laughable attempt at security, I have ascertained that there is a criminal element operating in this city which might draw,” the word father was struck through with two neat lines, “Batman, and potentially ruin any attempt at stealth. I believe we must handle the meeting between ourselves and Batman delicately, and on our own terms. Because of this I have determined the best course of action is to deal with this so-called ‘Professor Pyg’ with haste.

Should you return before we have settled matters, and wish to join us on this mission, you may find all the relevant information pertaining to Pyg (alias to one Lazlo Valentin) by pressing the large rectangular key which reads enter. I’m sure Cain and I would benefit from your expertises in these matters.”

Jason hadn’t believed it was possible to convey sarcasm through the written word. Until today.

“Ps. If you are determined to acquire sustenance before returning, I still do not like ketchup. Mushrooms are okay. Cain requests extra fries.

Pps. In keeping with the traditions laid out in your tales of the Batman’s adventures, Cain and I have decided to wear masks. If you do decide to join us, you might not recognize us, but we have agreed not to harm you.

Sincerely,

Damian al’Ghul, Grandson of the Demon, Heir to the Demon’s Head.”

Jason crumpled the note. The Batgirl uniform was gone, as well as a reasonable chunk of the armory. He’d have to move quickly.

-

The decision to pursue and subdue Valentin had been mostly motivated by three things. The first he had laid out in his letter to Todd. The second he had shared with Cain, boredom. The third he would reveal to no one, on pain of death. In the years since he had regained his memory, Todd had recounted every story he knew pertaining to Batman. Those stories had motivated him to come to Gotham and meet his father, leaving behind his mother and grandfather, possibly abandoning his great destiny. Those stories had told him more about his father as a man than his mother or grandfather ever had. They painted Bruce Wayne as a titan among men, a pillar of strength and will, and a paragon of virtue and honor. In all honesty, Damian was intimidated by that man. But he was also inspired. The third reason he had decided to pursue and subdue Valentin was to feel connected with his father.

Locating “Pyg” was a simple enough matter. First he plotted out all of the kidnappings that matched Pyg’s M.O. it would seem that Batman had been keeping an eye on Pyg, because he was the chief suspect in the manufacture and distribution of a drug gangs were using to pacify prostitutes. But he’d overlooked the kidnappings. By mapping those, cross referencing places that stored or manufactured components for the drug, Damian was able to triangulate possible hideouts this Pyg could be using. Of the three possibilities, only one was currently unused, an so Damian had settled on the abandoned theme park, ignoring how horribly cliched it was.

Cain had followed Todd’s instructions and donned the Batgirl uniform, but had decided against layering civilian clothes over it. He couldn’t blame her, with the summer heat stifling as it was. Damian had opted for the League’s stealth uniform which he’d carried across half the world. Then the two had gone at the veritable armory like children in a candy shop. Few of Todd’s stories included Grayson, and those that did made him out to be asinine and annoying. But his selection of toys was impressive by all accounts. Smoke bombs, flash-bangs, teargas, plastic explosives, acetylene torches, inferred flashlights, air powered line launchers, and many of the oddly shaped throwing stars Todd had called “batarangs.” The belts which Damian had crisscrossed his chest like bandoliers were jam packed with more of these tools than Damian had imagined was possible, as well as a first-aid kit and handcuffs.

Once they were outfitted and armed, Damian led them to the car Todd had conned out of the addict. The drive to their location was in silence, both mentally preparing for whatever they might encounter along the way. They passed the location several times, marking potential hiding places, paths of retreat and places that could host an ambush.

Once Damian was satisfied he parked the car a block away and they took to the rooftops to preform reconnaissance from above. The park was dilapidated, derelict, and most likely overflowing with vermin. But for the most part it seemed structurally sound. After brief deliberation, the duo decided they were adequately prepared for whatever they may encounter, and thus began their assault.

There is an old proverb that Damian would often think back on when remembering this first act of vigilantism.

“Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.”

He thought he was ready for anything, but he was wrong.

-

Dick Grayson had apparently undergone a biker phase, which was good for Jason, because Roy’s car was gone. The modified superbike flew through the streets and cut between traffic like a dream. Jason had intended to return everything he’d stolen from Dick, but with every hairpin turn he grew more and more inclined to keep the bike. And maybe the jacket too. It matched the mask he’d swiped from Sash. And it was way too badass for Richard John Grayson.

He’d rushed out of the bunker with a stomach full of rage and fear, blended poorly so an acrid burn stung at the back of his throat. He imagined this was how Bruce must have felt every time he did something reckless. The dynamic dumbasses hadn’t even taken communicators with them.

He briefly wished he’d inventoried his belt before stepping out, but Dick had always been anal about his gear. So had he, now that he though about it. Bruce had drilled him on it relentlessly, having him empty and refill his belt over and over for hours until Jason knew exactly how much of what was in each pouch, and could find anything blindfolded or in the heat of battle. Thinking about it brought back the sharpened calm that came with patrols and missions. It was like the emotions were compressed and pushed back into a compartment on his brain’s utility belt. Not gone, just stored away. He twisted the throttle as far as it would go.

Once upon a time, he’d have cased the joint before getting close. Once upon a time, he’d have come from above, all stealth and shadows, and only dropped in once he had a clear vision of what was happening inside. Today he barreled through a hole in the fence at almost two hundred miles per hour with the engine screaming and fishtailed to a stop as close to the park’s rotting funhouse as he could without transforming himself into a pancake.

Kickstand dropped, and feet pounded against dry rotted wood. Jason had almost made it to the door before his ears registered the sounds of a struggle from within. He cursed his favorite curse as he filled his hand with smoke pellets and prepared to join the fray. With his free hand he pulled the line-launcher and took aim. He was topside in a heartbeat, and could practically hear the cape flutter that would have accompanied the motion in his Robin days. With practiced proficiency he located a skylight and paused to survey the scene from above.

Damian and Cass were surrounded. As if that wasn’t bad enough, their attackers were the aforementioned legion of League foot soldiers Jason had been eager to avoid. They seemed to be holding their own well enough for now, but outside their field of view Shiva was preparing to join the battle. Also moving in were the rest of the Demon’s Fist. Bronze Tiger, Cheshire, Ubu, and Mara al’Ghul. Things were well on their way to getting messy. Jason cursed again. Ubu was the meanest and the ugliest. Also the closest.

“Fuck it. Prison rules.”

He tossed the fistful I’d smoke pellets and dropped in as the cloud spread over the crowd.

Ubu was a hulking brute, and made a piss poor cushion, but he was a big enough target that Jason had no fear of missing. The sound the giant’s head made when Jason’s knee made contact with it was something like a watermelon falling off a truck at fifty, and was nostalgically comedic combined with the guttural grunt he released before flopping onto the floor like a sack of potatoes. But Jason couldn’t say if he laughed or not. All of his attention was on hurling wingdings (wingdings) into the smoke at the predicted positions of his foes. There were more than a few grunts, and a couple of clatters as weapons were dropped from struck hands. But not nearly enough, and the disorientation didn’t last long. This was League tactics, after all, and only slightly modified by Batman. Cass and Damian also got back to business, and everything was chaos once more.

Jason registered a shift in the cloud with barely enough time to dodge, and one of Shiva’s twin swords cut through the haze only millimeters from his chin. It was quickly followed by the other, this time arching towards his chest. Robin loosed a volley of wingdings in rapid succession, but the clash of metal on metal told him how effective that tactic was. Gripping one of the larger tools like a set of knuckle dusters, he advanced.

In his day the birdarangs had focused more on reducing weight than on durability, and it seemed that was still the case. Robin had only redirected a few glancing blows, and he could already feel the thing cracking. The smoke was fading quickly, and he could mostly see Shiva now. Which meant she could see him too. After blocking yet another strike which came way to close to opening his throat Robin stepped back and loosed one of the explosive discs that had been his favorites. Shiva was an expert, and had her swords prepared to swat it aside when it detonated, and the small explosion sent her blades flying.

Pressing the advantage Robin moved in. Hand-to-hand odds not in his favor either. Better than unarmed against swords. No cape to distract or disorient. Fight dirty.

Dodge high, block low. Opening when she kicks high, knock her off her feet.

It was alarming how quickly he fell back into his training. Batman had taught him a lot, and years of street fights had taught him more. Then there was his time playing amnesiac with the League. Jason winning.

Shiva was on her feet again before anything more than her shoulders touched the ground, and at some point she’d regained her swords, but Jason was ready, and before she realized what was happening, he clapped her ears. The pressure of the strike would have been disorienting on its own, but coupled with the detonation of the micro-flash-bangs cupped in Jason’s hands, Shiva crumpled like a rag doll.

The cloud had completely dissolved now, and Jason easily dodged the sai Cheshire flung at him. Of course this put him in excellent position to catch Bronze Tiger’s shin with his whole stomach. Breathless and airborne, he could do nothing about the pinwheel kick Cheshire dropped on his rib cage. The familiar crunch told him that two were cracked before the pain started up.

Jason landed hard, and Cheshire straddled his waist the second he had. Her other sai raised in both hands, prepared to fall into his throat.

“Enough.”

Silence fell in place of the killing blow. Cheshire looks to her left and Jason followed suit.

The few League grunts that remained standing parted as Talia al’Ghul strode across the battle field to Damian, who still held his blade in a ready position with eyes glued to his cousin. She hadn’t lowered her weapons either. The two had been bitter rivals from the day they’d met.

“Mother.” Damian said with all the tenderness of a freezer burned pork chop.

Without another word she dropped to her knees and embraced him.

After a brief awkward silence, she turned his face towards hers.“What is the reason for this foolishness, son?”

Damian freed himself from her grip. “Is it foolish for a boy to seek his father?”

Talia clicked her tongue in the same fashion that Damian was so fond of, and rose to her feet.

“I would have taken you to meet him in time, Damian. When I decided you were ready.”

“Taken me to kill him. Todd told me everything.” Talia turned her gaze to Jason, who waved awkwardly.

“Let him up, Cheshire.” The masked assassin complied quickly, and even gave Jason a hand standing.

“So this was your doing Ibn al Xu’ffasch?”

‘Son of the Bat.’ The name they had given him at the dawn of his second life. Jason pulled off the mask which was apparently doing him no good, and shrugged.

“Tt” Talia turned her attention to Cassandra, who had frozen in place with her baton less than an inch from a grunt’s nose. There was a circle of (probably) unconscious goons at her feet.

“I’d suspected you’d finally had your fill of your mother’s poor treatment and taken the boys hostage.” She turned back to Jason. “When did you regain your memory?”

“Midway through my second year with you all.” Talia nodded as if she’d expected as much, then turned back to Damian.

“I assume that you are serious about meeting your father, yes? Even if I were to drag you back, you’d simply escape again, isn’t that right?”

“Yes mother.” Talia nodded again. Then produced a sealed envelope from within her jumpsuit.

“I expected as much you are at that age where you think you know everything. This letter will explain everything. Deliver it directly to your father, and no one else. Understand?” Damian took the envelope cautiously, as if expecting it to bite him. Once he had it in hand she knelt again, placing her hands on his shoulders tenderly. “I would never send you to kill your father. Nor you Ibn al Xu’ffasch. My father would do no such thing either.”

“But Todd said-“

“Do not misunderstand me, I do not claim Ibn al Xu’ffasch lied. There are those within the League that believe Ras al’Ghul has been too long the Demon’s Head. There are whispers of a coupe. I do not doubt such plans involve removing my beloved from play. I intended to see you in his care soon enough.” She turned to look over the assassins. “We return to Nanda Parbat. None shall further impede these three, by my word, or face my wrath. My will is the Demon’s will.”

The assassins snapped as one into a bow, and set about gathering the wounded. She moved through the crowd to stand in front of Jason and cupped his face, smiling gently.

“Father swore to make no move on Gotham for as long as my beloved draws breath. He made this oath before the whole of the League of Assassins, and forbade any of them to move on Gotham in his name, on pain of death. This was his penance for your death. His sole intent was to return the son he’d taken from my beloved.”

“Uh, okay?”

“I have enjoyed having you in my home Ibn al Xu’ffasch. You have been as a brother to my son, and a son to me. Look after him, Ibn, for he is too much like his father for his own good.”

“If he’s anything like Bruce, I won’t have to.” Talia chuckled, pat his shoulder, and turned to Cassandra, who seemed to materialize at Jason’s side.

“Cassandra, you are welcome to return with us. You have my word that you will have no trouble.” Cass shook her head.

“They die without me.” She said, patting Jason’s shoulder. His jaw dropped, he’d never heard Cass say so much at one time. Talia had never heard her speak period, but to her credit she only cocked an eyebrow.

“Quite.” She said then returned to Damian.

“When all is well once more, I will send for you, my son. Learn what you can from your father. He is a great man.” Damian nodded, and Talia only lingered for a moment before following the last of the assassins out of the building.

The trio stood in silence for a time, until Jason realized they were waiting for him to tell them what to do next.

“Well. That was fun. Who wants soggy chicken and waffles?” Damian narrowed his eyes, but Cass’s hand shot up. “What? So I picked up food. I wasn’t expecting you two to run off for some daring-do and stumble into an obvious trap.” Damian’s eyes narrowed further. “Okay, after we eat we’ll go straight to the Batcave, no detours, no shenanigans, scouts honor.”

Damian rolled his eyes and started for the exit. “I’ll drive.” He stated as Jason and Cass fell in behind him.

“My turn.” Cass retorted.

“Do you even know how?” Damian probed, eyeing her doubtfully.

“You’re mighty talkative today Cass.” Jason quipped. Cassandra replied by sticking her tongue out. He understood her good mood. Their six month misadventure was almost over. As they stepped out into the summer night Jason looked to the sky, and pulled the pair to a stop. From this side of Blüdhaven you could see it clearly enough. For the first time in five years Jason looked up at the Bat-Signal, and pointed it out to the others.

He couldn’t hold back the smile brought on by the wonder he saw in his companion’s faces.

Homeward bound.

-END

Author’s Notes: this chapter is long, and maybe a bit rambling, but mostly because there’s room for two whole multichapter fics in here. Seriously, I was half tempted to start writing a Damian Cass and Jason cross country road trip full of shenanigans and hilarity. For those wondering, this takes place five years after prologue 1. It took me longer than I thought it would to edit, between baking cheesecake, doing some bag work, and feeling out crafting with worbla. That being said, the next prologue will take even longer (unfortunately(?)) because I want to make sure my events make sense and everything is lined up perfectly and ready for the series proper to begin immediately after.

Feel free to comment, complain, keysmash, or just like and reblog. I THRIVE on your reactions.

Till next time!

[glowonu]

feel special by twice

another little songfic~

There are some of those days Days when I suddenly feel all alone When I feel like I don’t belong anywhere And my head is hanging down

The idol life style is hard. The constant strain on your health, social capacity, appearance, and personality, sometimes makes you feel like you can’t just be yourself. It’s another one of those days where everything seems to crash down on top of you. Being the leader of quite a large group, your specific responsibilities and roles tend to make you feel alone and exhausted. The new year is near, it’s exciting but it also means that your schedule is packed full of end of year song festivals and MC roles and today you’re at your limit. You just want to collapse and release all of your bottled up emotions, but you’ve been notified for your next full length comeback in late January, and today is a recording day. You trudge from the car that dropped you off from your previous schedule to the studio. The wind is freezing, and each breath condenses into a puff of mist that disappears as soon as it came. 

Whenever those days come, you tell me How precious I am All those words you say Everything’s alright From Nobody to Somebody I become a very special me

There is one person though, who knows your struggle. Choi Seungcheol, the leader of Seventeen is waiting in the foyer for you, just outside of the studio, waiting for you to finish up with the first day of recording. He knows you’ve been out of it, and he’s in the same boat as you. Everything seems to be weighing heavier this season and you can both understand why. Neither of you haven’t been as chatty with each other and your last text reads that it was sent and read a few days ago. While you both like to have your space, something needs to change, and Cheol decides to take matters into his own hands. 

It's terribly late when you exit the studio, but you spot a cozy looking Seungcheol on the couch of the foyer, playing on his phone. He looks exhausted, you know he’s going through the same stuff as you, and it seems like your couple item for today is the dark circles under your eyes. He looks up as the door clicks shut behind you, and you give each other a soft, tired smile. 

As if it were magic, you feel a little lighter, less alone. Cheol takes your hand and the both of you walk out of the company building to his car. He turns the heater up and plays your rnb playlist. The smooth vocals of Sam Kim and Crush fill the background as Cheol keeps his hand in yours. “You make this so much easier, you’re so incredibly precious to me baby,” he murmurs as he drives through the city, the traffic isn’t as bad as it usually is at this hour. 

You smile sleepily at him, “I was just about to say the same thing,” The tone of the conversation is almost casual, but it means so much to you, “I’m glad we have each other, as much as it’s hard, sharing this with you makes everything alright,” Cheol’s grin widens. 

You make me feel special No matter how the world brings me down Even when hurtful words stab me I smile again cuz you’re there That’s what you do

Seungcheol wipes a hand across his face tiredly. As much as he enjoys seeing the support from Carats, the hate comments are unavoidable. He should have put the phone down 20 minutes ago instead of scrolling through the comment section of his latest instagram post. He winces at a particularly nasty comment when suddenly his phone pings and a message from you appears at the top of his phone. 

[20:00] wifey: hey peachy boy~  [20:00] wifey: can’t wait to see you at the song festival tomorrow, i miss you TT [20:01] wifey: also babe, like your stage presence is killer? your fancams? works of art

Seungcheol grins as soon as the messages arrive. Even if you don’t know what kind of mood he’s in, you always manage to cheer him up. 

Again I feel special One moment I feel like I’m nothing at all Like no one would notice if I were gone But then when I hear you calling me I feel loved, I feel so special

Even though you saw him at work a few days ago, you can’t help missing your lovely boyfriend. You snuggle into your blankets and search up some of his fancams. You giggle at the duality between his soft concepts and his energetic and powerful concepts. You’re amazed by how strong his stage presence is, the way he hits every move with an energy and power that captivates you. You switch out of YouTube to messenger, sending him a couple of texts. The messages mark read almost instantly, and suddenly your phone lights up with an incoming facetime call. As you accept the call, Cheol’s smiling face fills the screen, and you can’t help mirroring his adoring smile. 

I just wanted to hide Didn’t wanna face the world As if everything has lost meaning As if I have lost meaning I just sat there still

You love your fans, you really do, but you really wish you could have some space sometimes. You definitely do not look perfect today, and you’re doing all you can to hide it. Hopefully you can find some personal space in the caverns of the incredibly oversized hoodie you’re wearing. Your face is hidden by a pink mask and your round glasses. You particularly chose your reflective pair, avoiding the gaze of the camera lenses capturing your return to Seoul from your one day trip in Japan for a small CF event. 

The small break you have on New Year’s day won’t come fast enough and you are so sick of existing in the public eye. You love what you do, and you love your fans, but you know extremely well that you are spread way too thin at the moment.

Then you appeared before me With a warm smile, you held out your hand Everything’s alright From Nobody to Somebody I become a very special me

You’re tired and clingy, and the short walk from arrivals to where your car is being picked up looks incredibly long. You wish Seungcheol was here, to hold his hand, to feel his warmth, a small anything to give you a little more energy. As if he could read your mind, your phone vibrates in your pocket, and a spam of messages come through. 

[7:54] 🍑: I hope you had a safe flight babygirl~ [7:54] 🍑: I know you probably don’t wanna face the crowds at the moment,[7:54] 🍑: but it’ll be okay~ ill see you tonight !

You make me feel special No matter how the world brings me down Even when hurtful words stab me I smile again cuz you’re there That’s what you do Again I feel special One moment I feel like I’m nothing at all Like no one would notice if I were gone But then when I hear you calling me I feel loved, I feel special

“The media have already written articles on me being lazy and not keeping up the group’s concept while at the airport,” You groan throwing your phone to the side, “I’m sorry?? My concept is for the stage! Can I not be comfortable for an early morning flight? Sorry that my leggings and hoodie aren’t elegant enough for you!” You rant into the pillow that your holding on to as Seungcheol walks into the room. 

He chuckles, “Baby, have you checked twitter? The international fans are fawning over your look,” Seungcheol sets down some snacks on the coffee table and pushes your legs off of it. You roll your eyes but you smile all the same, moving your legs to the other end of the couch and settling your head in his lap. “Besides, you look like a queen whatever your wearing, wherever you are. My queen specifically,” He says giggling, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheeks. You blush and smile into his shirt that you’ve pulled close to your face, flustered at Cheol’s typical cheesiness. 

You make everything alright On a cloudy day without sunshine You are indeed my Shining light That’s what you do Even the darkest night turns to day I owe it to you Because you make me feel special

Finally it’s your day off, you’re on your way after a refreshing sleep in to pick Cheol up from the photo studio near your dorms. It’s a shame he has to work in the morning, but you secretly appreciate being able to sleep in. The sun is shining, and it’s a warm, wintery 9 degrees. 

Yet, you know something is up when Cheol gets in the car. He looks more exhausted than usual, and his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. You focus on exiting the carpark and getting onto the main road before reaching for his hand, you know he’ll talk about what’s on his mind when he’s ready. For now, he just needs you to be there for him. 

You’re sitting at a secluded tea house on the outskirts of the city when he opens up. He lets out a sigh before grabbing your hand. “Sometimes I feel like, I’m not a great boyfriend.” He murmurs, avoiding your eyes. He continues on before you can say anything, “I’m so busy all the time, and I get stressed and I always have my mind on my job, I feel like I don’t support you enough…”

You tighten your grip on his hand and he looks up at you. “Seungcheol listen to me; we are busy people, that’s the nature of our job and I will never blame you for that. I will also never blame you for being stressed, or anxious, or down. You have more than enough responsibilities, you don’t need to carry my weight either.” You let out a breath before continuing, “Cheol, I get it, and I apologise for the same thing, but we do this together. You brighten my days, you give me the energy to get through things without even realising I need it. You are more than enough.” 

He lets out a shaky breath, and smiles at you softly. “Thank you so much,” He starts, “You are more than enough for me too.” He presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand that is sitting in his. 

You giggle at your incredible boyfriend, and lean towards him to press a sweet kiss to his lips, “I love you so much, you silly man,” 

No matter how the world brings me down Even when hurtful words stab me I smile again cuz you’re there That’s what you do Again I feel special One moment I feel like I’m nothing at all Like no one would notice if I were gone But then when I hear you calling me I feel loved, I feel so special

You grin at each other, hands connected. You support each other, you love each other, and you’re there for each other, lifting each other up and through the pressures of your lifestyles. Together, everything will be alright. 

[findmeinpops]

FindMeInPops’ 12 Days of Ficmas: Day One - Pen Pals

I’ve actually tried to post this twice already today but it keeps glitching? I don’t why but hopefully third time’s the charm 🤞🏻.

It’s that time of year again where I try to pump out a drabble or one-shot for each of the twelve days leading up to Christmas! I have a couple already written but some of them will be written by prompt and on request - I have a prompt list that I’ll reblog now, if you want to take a look - so bare with for any editing errors! Enjoy, my loves, and have a happy festive season :)

And a quick fyi for those who prefer AO3, my 2019 12 Days of Christmas collection is at this link and should be uploaded with an hour of this being posted.

Prompt: Two friends have exchanged letters since a childhood letter exchange program and one delivers their Christmas letter in person this year

Ship(s): Cheryl Blossom x Toni Topaz

Rating: T

CW(s): reference to child abuse (not detailed)

‘Dear Cheryl,

Merry Christmas, gorgeous! At least, I hope this will get to you before Christmas. Can you believe that we have now been speaking for seven years… It seems like yesterday that I sent the first letter. Eleven year old me had no idea that that one letter could lead to the best friendship that she would ever experience.

Right now I am actually sat at the table in my trailer, it’s not very warm, what with the snow beginning to fall, but I managed to get hold of an old oil heater from a garage sale which helps somewhat. If it gets too bad, Jughead and Betty have me to stay with them for a while but I feel bad with taking up their spare rooms when there are Serpents more in need of it than me. Once I’ve written this I’m heading to the Whyte Wyrm for the Christmas party, they often have a fire going so I can hide in the warmth there for a little while.

How’s the new house? At least it’s big so you don’t have to interact with your mom too much. As for a job, you could try a local corner store or bar, at least until you’ve got a little money under your belt.

I’ll be having a similar Christmas to you. Jughead and Betty have invited me over, I’ll probably just pop in for Christmas dinner and leave it at that. I don’t know what I’ll be doing otherwise but I will be thinking of you. I wish that I could get you out of that house, maybe I can come over to NV when I have saved more money from these jobs I’m taking on and help break you out. Maybe the bar’s open over Christmas, they should pay more for that, right? I won’t have anything to do so might as well put my time to good use.

I love you so much, Cheryl, hang in there, we’ll work something out together and, if not, the Serpents may be able to lend a hand, especially if you head back here with me.

Merry Christmas, my love,

TT x’

I held the letter tight in my hands, the paper crumpled from the number of times it had been folded and refolded it, the corners fiddled with, and pulled in and out of my bag.

I was doing the correct thing, right? I wasn’t insane or delusional...right? It was too late for that, I tried to remind myself - I was here now.

I readjusted the large holdall digging into my shoulder, as I tried to work up the nerve to knock on the door. I had raised her fist so many times but could not seem to actually do it.

The lights were on inside so, in theory, she should be home.

What if I had the wrong address? Oh God, what if she didn’t even want to see me?

Movement inside jolted me from my thoughts as heavy footsteps shook the small building, the lights switched off as keys jangled inside.

Half of me considered bolting but there was no time and nowhere to hide.

The front door swung open, almost hitting my nose and I stumbled back almost slipping in the frosty grass.

“Hello, can I help you?” A familiar sweet voice asked.

I recognised it from the one time I had snuck away from my mother when we had been in town and made it to a payphone. We had never managed it since but I still remembered that voice like it was yesterday.

“Are you alright?” She questioned further before pausing. “Hang on, let me turn the porch light on, I can’t see you.”

With the click of a switch, a blinding light turned on above me before Toni appeared in the doorway. Goodness, she looked better than the picture she had sent me last month.

She no longer had the pink stripes, but her black hair still fell in soft curls down to her waist, delicately framing her face. She was dressed to go out for the evening, it was Christmas Eve after all. Smokey makeup and pretty pink lipstick, a tight black dress hugging her figure, paired with fishnets and heeled boots, she looked drop-dead gorgeous.

“Wow,” was all Cheryl could get out in disbelief that her TT was actually in front of her.

All the fighting and struggle seemed worth it for just this moment: to be free from my she-witch mother and to be in the presence of my love. Yes, I loved her and it was only confirmed by finally being able to properly see her and hear her voice - all I wanted to was gather her in my arms and hold her.

Without TT, I did not know how I would have gotten through the last six years.

“Cheryl?” Toni’s jaw had dropped open, her body frozen in shock as she tried to process what she was seeing. “Cheryl? Seriously, is that you?”

She suddenly moved, flying down the steps and jumping down so we stood in front of one another; she grabbed my arms, holding me at a length in front of her, thoroughly inspecting every aspect of me, no doubt seeing the doozy of a bruise which decorated my cheek, curtesy of mother dearest.

“Yes, it’s me TT.” My voice barely a murmer but it brought her gaze back to my face, her eyes flitting between each of my eyes, her mind probably running a million miles as hour.

“Oh baby.” She whispered, tears beginning to slip from her eyes as she ran a thumb over my unmarred cheekbone before throwing her weight at me, wrapping her arms around my neck and burying her face against my chest. Despite the throb it brought about in my injured leg, I happily took the burden. TT was here, she was in my arms.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” She kept whimpering against my shirt, it broke my heart.

Dropping the hold-all onto the frozen floor, I reciprocated her embrace, one hand finding its place in the small of her back and the other on the back of her neck.

“It’s alright, I’m here.”

I wasn’t alright an hour ago, but now I was. I was still just as beat up and everything at ‘home’ was still as it was but I was here with TT in my arms.

“You’re here.” Toni whispered pulling back, wiping tears from her cheeks before noticing the smudged eye make-up on my top and deciding to give up her futile efforts.

“You’re here...how are you here?”

“It’s a long story.” I answered. “One for inside in the warmth but, long story short, I’m eighteen and stole some money from a visiting rich uncle, taking the first flight to New York.”

I crouched down and picked the bag back up before swinging it back over my shoulder, wincing slighly as it met yet another developing bruise.

“Alright,” Toni offered her hand, which I gladly took,, “let’s go inside and get you into some clean and comfy clothes. We’ll drink hot cocoa and you can tell me what you need to but I’d also rather like to take you to the doctor,” at the rapid shaking of my head she backtracked, “or at least Mr Jones, he won’t ask too many questions and will be able to sort him out but you can trust FP, he might even left you join the Serpents.” She squeezed my hand before leading me back into her trailer.

Not all was right in the world but I was with my TT and that was all that mattered.

[kpopboysreact]

EXO Reaction - Regretting Cheating on You

I actually can't find the request in my inbox because tumblr eats everything, but I know this was requested a waaaay long time ago~

Suho

It happened so fast, he didn't even know what was going on. It was a drunken mistake, and he wasn't going to lose you over that. Suho bought you a bouquet of flowers, your favourites, along with your favourite chocolates. Cheesy and old fashioned, yes, but the flowers are so beautiful and reminded him of you. He saw you everywhere, but the one place he wanted to see you, by his side, was empty. You opened your door to see Junmyeon holding the gifts, tears in his eyes. He’d thought about what to say and rehearsed it over and over, but actually seeing you made his mind go blank. “Y/N...I’m so, so sorry.” And the tears fell.

Such an old gif but he’s so pretty TT

Xiumin

Minseok could take yelling and screaming. Hell, he could even handle tears if it meant he was the one able to wipe them away. But the one thing he couldn’t take, was silence. It had been a few days since he had come clean to you about having cheated, and you made zero contact with him. The days turned into a week, and Minseok was absolutely desperate. He reached out to you in whatever way he could, but to no avail. It had been a full month of him messing up in dance practices and eating just enough to stay alive, before he saw you update your Instagram for the first time since your disappearance from his life...and now there was someone new in yours. Minseok would've been a fool to say he didn't see this coming, but it didn't dull the blow any more. He felt he was going to be sick, and probably would've been if he had any food in his stomach to begin with. This is so wrong... And nothing would be right again until you were back in his arms where you belonged.

Lay

From day one, Yixing’s topmost priority has been taking care of you and your needs in every way. As a boyfriend, Yixing would be completely loyal and dedicated to you. The only way he could even fathom cheating on you, was if he was, to be frank, pissed to shit. I’m talking barely-able-to-remember-his-name pissed. Goodness knows why he got that inhibited to begin with, but he just so happened to be with the wrong person at the wrong time, and now the deed was done and it couldn't be taken back. Lay went to you, crying, feeling worse about it than you probably did, honestly. It would be hard to not forgive him when you looked into his eyes seeing the sheer pain he was going through. But if you managed to hold your own, there is no limit to the lengths Yixing would go to in order to make you forgive him. You're the light of his life, and he was going to prove it no matter what.

Baekhyun

Baekhyun felt like he was untouchable when he was on tour. He was the Baekhyun from EXO. Tens of thousands of fans screamed his name each night, and he could make them all swoon just by throwing a glance in their direction. Baekhyun craved that high, but one night, he let it get to his head. What was supposed to be an innocent night out turned into something tragically more, and now every tabloid knew about it. “It’s bad enough that you cheated on me, Baekhyun. But you didn't even have the balls to tell me yourself?!” “Y/N, I know that you're mad, just...” “Mad?! I’m furious, Baekhyun.” “I know, I know...” Baekhyun frantically tried to calm you down over the phone. He sighed. “I’ll come home early. Is that what you want? I can explain in person.” “Oh no, I would just hate for you to disappoint your loving fans. I hope they love you enough to take my place.” You hung up the phone. And Baekhyun’s heart dropped to his stomach.

Chen

He didn’t deserve you, and he knew it. Each day he woke up next to you was another day he felt so inadequate compared to the angel opposite him. So how could he justify this? “I know I don't deserve you, y/n, but...” “This fucking proves it, Jongdae. What did you think would happen?!” “That’s just it! I wasn't thinking, and I-” Jongdae had to take a breath, choking on his own words. “I...I’m just begging you for one more chance. I know I didn't even really deserve one to begin with.” He chuckled. “But I need you.” “Well...you’re right. You didn't deserve one to begin with.” Jongdae’s heart began to beat rapidly. “Please. I swear I’ll never do anything like this again. Just the thought of what I did is making me sick...” “You’ll never do anything like this again, because I can't give you another chance.” You fought back tears as you watched his face contort in pain. “Y/N...this can't be the end for us. I love you too much. I can't let you go.”

Chanyeol

He went through the day in a complete haze. Nothing really made sense without you, so he was just waiting for you to call him back. Even a text would've been enough to keep him going...but he wasn't lucky enough for that. Now, Chanyeol was sitting in a corner of his room in the dark, listening to slow R&B songs that helped him concentrate on just how heartbroken he was. He felt like he deserved the pain after everything he put you through. He skipped rehearsal again today. He felt he deserved to be yelled at and made a fool of on stage. He skipped meals. He felt he deserved the aches of malnutrition and hunger. You were his reason, his justification that life is joyful. Now what was he supposed to believe? All he could do was wait in hopes you would see that without you, he was truly nothing.

D.O.

You sat across from Kyungsoo on your shared bed. The bed that once felt so at home and warm, so full of warmth, now felt cold. It was almost as if an ocean separated the two of you now. Kyungsoo had come clean about everything that happened immediately, never wanting anything to come between the two of you. But now that something has and it’s his fault, he will do anything to make you forgive him. He wanted to handle this maturely, hearing you out and bending to your every whim, but seeing your eyes begin to fill with tears, his own composure began to slip. “I can't explain myself because I know I messed up, plain and simple. But I will do absolutely anything for you, y/n. Anything for you to forgive me.”

Kai

Jongin looked at his reflection. Who the hell are you? Nothing but a cheater, a liar. He slammed his hand against the mirror, wondering what would happen if it broke. Would it just crack? Or would it shatter? Would the glass pierce me? Would I die? He sighed. You can't die twice. And that’s what he was. Without you, dead. How was I so fucking stupid? Jongin collapsed to his knees. Yet neither his knees nor his head hurt like his heart did. What heart? It was just a hole, now. From his knees, he fell to his back, no longer able to support his own weight. He gripped his phone with all his strength and managed a text to you, “need you”. Then, he let his darkness consume him.

Sehun

“Don't be irrational.” Sehun rolled his eyes, trying to play off his concern. “You know that I only love you.” “If you only loved me, you wouldn't have cheated on me.” You spat back. “Y/N...” Sehun held your arm to keep you from walking away, but you shook him off. “Can’t you at least listen to me?” “Why should I? All you do is lie, anyway.” “Is that what you think this all was, y/n? All we were? A lie?” “...well now that you've literally thrown everything away, what else am I supposed to believe?” Sehun’s silence was deafening. “That’s what I thought.” “Y/N!” Sehun grabbed you again. “I promise you, it meant nothing and I made a fucking mistake. Please just hear me out.” His voice dripped with desperation, and it was up to you whether or not you’d stick around to listen.

[sassycassie-s-series]

All My Fault 3

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC, BatFam - Damian Wayne/Batman

Rating: PG-11 (minor violence and injections)

Notes: (Masterlist) Lots of POV jumping in this one. Hope I don’t confuse you too much. If you don’t like shots be a little careful.

Tag List (Open): @batboys-and-other-messes @welovegroot @nanna-the-batmum @probsjosh

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

^^^^^

Damian hissed as he peeled the gauze off his wound.

“Need a hand?” Jason asked.

“No,” Damian snapped. He tutted at the injury on his arm. “Tt. By the way, gossip-mongering is unbecoming on men like you, Todd.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jason said blithely.

“I heard you talking with Grayson last night as you passed my quarters. I assure you that my emotional investment in Cloudburst was never romantic in nature.” He changed the bandage, beginning rough before remembering Cloudburst’s gentleness and mimicking it. It felt better and hurt less to rewrap his arm carefully.

“Uh-huh. Sure,” Jason said, clearly unconvinced, as he plopped down at a table, kicked his boots up, and started to go through some old case files.

Damian’s hand drifted to one of the throwing stars sitting near him, but he stopped, clenched his jaw, and went over to the boxing corner. He wrapped his hands and began to beat the sand out of the punching bag. Jason didn’t say a single word.

Everyone else made their way into the cave eventually. Including Cloudburst. Damian was still boxing, and Jason was still going through his case files. Tim sat at the computer immediately and started running through some programs. “Timeways are still closed. Unlikely to clear up at any point in the future,” Tim announced. “And until we can get the devices to access broken entrances to the time-stream to make repairs, no one will be making any time jumps. Ever again.”

^^^^^

On that grim pronouncement, Tim swiveled in the chair to look at me. “Looks like you’re stuck here for a while, Cloudburst,” he added.

I bit my lower lip. “What… what about a speedster?” I asked. “Like, I mean, you know, Barry. Or Wally. The Speed-Force.”

Everyone exchanged glances. “Every speedster on the planet that we know of at the moment is lost in the Speed-Force, Cloudy,” Dick said. “Once the Time Bombs hit, the speedsters were the first responders. No one has seen nor heard from Barry or Wally—not even Bart—since then.”

“Oh,” I said. “Welp. Apart from speedsters I don’t know any other way to travel through time. Guess I’m stuck here.” I shrugged. “Oh well. At least I'm with you guys.”

“Eeeyyy!” Dick said happily, throwing his arm around me. “That’s right! Who better to be stuck in an unfamiliar future with?”

I awkwardly hugged him back and pretended I didn’t notice Damian shoot us a look from halfway across the cave where he was still boxing. I tried really hard not to notice at how attractive he’d grown up to be now that he was my age—and not wearing a shirt. Muscular, chiseled, with soft-looking skin where it was bare of scars and injuries. I’d always thought Dick was the pretty boy and Jason was the hot one—yes there’s a difference—but looking at an adult Damian I started to reconsider my sorting.

Head out of the clouds, Cloudburst, I thought sharply at myself. Head. Out. Of. The. Clouds.

I managed not to stare and went over to Jason. “Whatcha workin’ on, Jaybird?” I asked casually. Since we used to be the same age before last night, he’d always been the closest to me.

“Just seeing if any of these old cold cases have anything to do with the Time Bombs,” Jason replied.

“Need a hand?”

“No offence, Cloudy, but I doubt you’d even understand what’s going on.”

“None taken. Okay. I'm gonna go change into my workout clothes and see what I can get done,” I said. “Hey Dick, still wanna teach me how to fight with escrima sticks?”

Dick perked up. “If you still wanna learn!” he replied brightly.

I grinned. “Absolutely.”

Damian glanced at me as I passed him, gave me a nod, and went back to boxing. I nodded back.

^^^^^

Once Cloudburst was gone, Damian relaxed a bit, wiping off his sweat with a towel and leaning against a cluttered-but-organized table on his hands, panting.

Dick leaned against the same side of the table but facing the opposite way, arms folded, with an interested expression on his face. “What’s on your mind, Little D?” he asked. “You haven’t said a word all morning.”

Damian shrugged, grabbed a water bottle, and downed half of it in several big swallows. He sighed and wiped off again, just to get a bit drier. “She’s… she’s even more beautiful than I remember her being. And she literally hasn’t changed since the last time I saw her,” he admitted.

“So… was Jason right? Did you actually have a crush on her when you were a teenager?”

Damian ducked his head between his arms. “I'm not going to deign that with a reply, Grayson,” he snapped, but Dick noticed his younger brother’s neck turning red—and not from the workout. Dick started chuckling, making sure to be quiet even though Tim and Jason could probably hear him.

“Oh my word, you did!”

“Shut up!” Damian growled, hands clenching to fists where they were braced against the side of the table.

“C’mon, Dames,” Dick entreated. “Cloudy’s a great girl! And now you’re the same age! It’s easier to pursue her when she’s not eight years older than you.”

“Grayson, so help me—”

“Damian,” Dick interrupted. “I won’t tease any more. I’m telling you now that everyone here—except maybe B—would approve.”

“I'm going to go shower,” Damian muttered, leaving the Batcave completely instead of showering in the cave’s showers.

Dick snickered to himself as Damian left and strolled over to Jason. “You were right, Jaybird,” he said.

“I know,” Jason said.

“So… we’re gonna conspire to get them together?” Dick asked, perching on the edge of the table.

Jason glanced up from his case files. “Is that even a question, big bird?” Jason retorted.

Dick smiled. “That’s what I thought.”

^^^^^

“Focus up, Cloudy!” Dick said, tapping me in the head with a non-electrified escrima stick so I’d stop looking around the Batcave in worry. “This isn’t the easiest combat style to learn so you gotta really want it, you hear?”

“I hear,” I said, spinning my pair of sticks the way Dick did. My spin was a little clumsier than his.

“Bend your knees. We’ll start slow and work our way up, okay?”

“Okay.”

I felt like I was in some old martial arts movie, going through a training montage.

It was like a swordfight. Except it was nothing like a swordfight. Dick and I stood closer than I would stand with a sword, which meant we had to get in closer to our enemy to attack them, but still farther away than we’d be hand-to-hand, and we were going with both arms at the same time. Which was hard. I wasn’t used to attacking and blocking at the same time while holding weapons.

Dick was fast. He had a lot of experience with this method of combat—and I had none.

I did my best, but I got smacked around a lot. Dick wasn’t hitting me hard, but the practice escrima sticks still made hollow thwacks when they struck me and Dick would say, “Tag! You’re it!” every. Freaking. Time. I would grunt and attack with as much renewed energy as I could muster. Sweat was dripping down my face and chest and gathering on the back of my neck.

^^^^^

Damian tried really hard to focus on the task at hand while Grayson and Cloudburst trained. He was supposed to be tracing Time Bomb paths all over the city and where they had jumped backwards in time to mess up history.

He was having a difficult time focusing. Cloudburst’s occasional grunt of frustration or pain at getting hit by one of Grayson’s practice escrima was distracting. Every time she sounded hurt he wanted to charge over and shove his brother off of her, telling Grayson to back off. He settled instead for looking over his shoulder to make sure blood hadn’t been drawn.

He caught his lower lip between his teeth and turned back to the map on his tablet. Focus, Wayne, focus, he thought sharply.

^^^^^

Once or twice I thought I caught Damian glancing at me whenever I’d get injured. I hadn’t even seen him come back in the cave—we’d bumped into each other when he was heading up to shower and I was heading down to train.

Finally, after… oh… a half-hour of me getting the snot beat out of me worse than when I was barely starting my training, I tapped out. Jason threw me a water bottle over his shoulder without even looking. I sprayed some of it on my face, shook it off, and then gulped down half of it. Panting, I stumbled off the training mat and over to where Tim was sitting at the computer. “‘Sup, Timbo?” I asked. “Figure anything new out?”

“Not in regards to you being stuck in the future,” Tim said distractedly.

“Speaking of which,” Alfred piped up, emerging from the med-bay. “Eight years of mutating viruses and bacteria mean if you leave this cave without the proper vaccinations, you could die.” He set a silver tray with ten carefully-organized syringes on it on the table.

I backed away from him, dropping my practice sticks. “Oh no. No, no, no,” I said, fear sweeping over me. “I’m sure I’ll be okay. Really.”

“Miss McCloud, I understand your distaste for injections, however it is necessary.”

“C’mon Cloudy, shots aren’t that bad!” Dick urged, prodding me in the back with his practice sticks.

“They’re not bad when you only have to get one or two a year,” I retorted. “Ten in one sitting is not going to happen.”

“Here,” Damian said, pushing off the table he’d been leaning against. He had on a loose black tank top, black jacket, and black jeans. “Hold my hand. Squeeze as hard as you want. I guarantee you won’t hurt me.”

“I really would rather do one at a time…” I said.

“Just the flu vaccine for this year and the tetanus shot you missed, then,” Alfred said. “The other vaccines can wait for the coming days.”

I really didn’t want to get a shot if I didn’t have to. I refused to move from where I’d backed up over the training mat even though Dick’s escrima stick was pressed against the base of my spine. He was adding more pressure and I returned it, absolutely not wanting to get a shot.

Damian approached the edge of the training mat and held his hand out to me. “Come along, McCloud. I promise the pain will be minimal,” he said. “A small pinch, and then it will be finished.”

I bit my lip and took a single step forward.

Dick had been applying so much pressure to his stick on my back that my relent had caused him to stumble forward.

I pressed my lips together and pinched my teeth around them, simultaneously biting both lips as best I could. When I reached the edge of the mat, I took Damian’s hand. My pulse was already pounding and my stomach churning. I hated shots almost as much as I hated spiders.

Damian guided me over to the table where Alfred had set the tray down. I let go of Damian’s hand long enough to boost myself up to sit on it.

“Which arm, Miss McCloud, do you prefer?” Alfred asked, picking up one of the smallest of the syringes.

“Left,” I said, staring straight ahead.

Damian took my right hand and stood just off-center to my right side. “Look at me, okay? Do not even acknowledge the existence of Pennyworth or anyone else in this room. You and I are the only ones who exist at this moment. Look at my eyes and concentrate on them. Squeeze my hand if you so require. Do try and relax your left arm.”

I licked my lower lip and did as he said, ignoring Alfred circling around Damian’s back to my left side and wiping off my skin to sanitize it. I stared straight into Damian’s left eye, urging myself to memorize the pattern of the hazel flecks in them. They were shaped like diamonds…

My left deltoid muscle started to sting. I clenched Damian’s hand hard, trying to distract myself from it. Look at his face, look at his face, look at his face. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it, I thought.

He gave me an encouraging nod, that almost turned into a smile. I flicked my gaze to his other eye, memorizing the pattern of flecks there too. His eyes were really green. Like, I’d seen some fairly bright green eyes on kids I’d gone to school with, but Damian’s had this vibrant, crystal-clear quality that I’d never noticed when he was younger.

My muscle stung again as the next injection went in. I gripped Damian’s hand even harder.

If I let my mind drift, it wandered to the hypnotic feeling that came with staring straight into Damian’s eyes and ignoring the rest of the world. Like when he’d initially brought me to the future the night before and reality sort of melted away like ice cream on hot pavement.

Alfred applied a Band-Aid to my arm. “There you are, Miss McCloud. All finished,” he said.

Damian gave me a look. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked quietly.

I hopped down off the table—and ignored how close to him I’d landed. Even though it was so close I could feel his body heat. “No I guess not. Thanks,” I said.

“Keep your arm moving so it doesn’t get sore,” Damian advised, letting my hand go and disappearing into the shadows of the cave.

I huffed and rolled my left arm around in my shoulder joint.

I caught Dick and Jason sharing a look as I crossed over to the training mat and picked up my practice escrima sticks again. “Okay, Dick. Let’s run through that exercise again. Just the exercise. Not the sparring.”

He spun his. “Whatever you say, Cloudy with a Chance of Rain,” he teased.

Next

[therapist-solarist]

Be Someone Other Then Yourself ==>

A Homestuck fan-fic I posted a long time ago on my archive account.

TAGS / WARNINGS:  Character Death, Immortality, godtier!alpha, kidsgodtier!beta kids, Depression, Anxiety, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Death from Old Age, Early Death, Death, Abuse, Past Abuse, Bullying, I got depressed for a few months and made this masterpiece, Sadstuck, implied anorexia, Anorexia, lowkey john / roxy not really mentioned till Jade's part, even then its like 3 lines

Summary: How the world before and after the game effects it players and none of the time in between. This is sadstuck and there is 4 major character deaths. Read at your own self depressing risk.

==》 Be John Egbert

Your name is John Egbert and you are about to enter your first class of a Monday morning freshly from homeroom. It’s your English class. You really do enjoy the talks about 1800’s literature and novels of the time. The masters such as Shakespeare and H.P Lovecraft and many others always draw your interest and make your day better even if you get tripped and beaten up every other day or as of lately everyday. The bill rings shrill and you bolt out of the room and step into the hallway sticking to the lockers like glue and weave your way through the growing crowds avoiding most people's eyes. Trying to avoid being beat up before first period and risk missing your favorite class over some more bruises on your ribs or the teasing that had been wearing away at your mind slowly. You still wore your shorts and shirt. Only difference was now days you had switched to bring a pair of spare clothing in the case you were beat up and got blood on your white shirt. You still avoid telling your father.

Your about 10 steps away when a voice calls out loud and clear to you, it’s obvious it's directed at you once the old nickname has left the mouth of your childhood tormentors. 

"Hey Beaver teeth, how's the dam going?”

A group of boys laughter rings through the hall as they advance behind you. You keep your head down and avoid everyone's gazes as they surround you in a semi-circle backing you into a locker. You still refused to look up not giving them the satisfaction of seeing the fear in your eyes.

"Hey Beaver teeth. I know you heard me. I know you hear me~" 

The boy keeps calling out to you trying to draw your head up. To make you look him in the eye. His friends are all laughing and joining in chanting the long overused nickname. The boys voices mix to others in the hall that want to see you with a bruise on your face. Girls and boys, from freshman to seniors are chanting now. Trying to get you to snap. To look up at the boy. Your sure a few teachers are watching. You're also sure none of them care. You close your eyes as the first punch flies to your gut.<p>

When it's all said and done you've been hit 17 times. You have 13 bruises and a cut on your hand and a bloody lip that is swelling by the minute.

After all that you still missed English class. 

When you get home you tell your dad you tripped on the stairs today and that in your misfortune you scraped your hand on a pair of haphazardly placed scissors on top of someone's backpack.

You're surprised he still buys the lies.

You know he knows that something is wrong. 

You head upstairs and the first thing you notice is a pesterchum message. You drop your bag on the floor and grab a sweatshirt, heading to the bathroom ignoring the messages for the moment. You walk into the room and close the door and lock it behind you. The mirror on the wall is good enough to check your body for the bruises and make sure it was only 13 this time. That it wasn't all 17 of the fists that left a mark on your now always purple stained skin. 

You were right the first time. Only 13. This is good news to you seeing as any more then 13 and you'd start to wonder if your brain was damaged and could explain why you're failing math. You find that the pain from moving now days hurts you more mentally than physically. You decide to stop your train of thoughts there as not to dwell any more. That’s what 3 am exhaustion is for. 

You throw your shirt to the side and just slip the sweatshirt over your head, enjoying the breathing room. You're sure one of these days you're going to get a broken rib from all the strifes you're involved in. 

You leave the bathroom and make your way slowly into your bedroom. You notice your pesterlog has new messages in a memo that jade set out for everyone a while back. 

You open it. 

GardenGnostic [GG] opened memo [GG] hey! How was school :D EctoBiologist [EB] answered memo TentacleTherapist [TT] answered memo TurntechGodhead  [TG] answered memo  [EB] lots of fun [TT] Uneventful [TG] boring as hell [GG] aww! I wish I could go to public school with other kids!

You stop and stare at your computer. Just one more person you have added into your Web of lies about school. You're not sorry for doing it though, rather save everyone the pain of knowing and doing something stupid and ending you up in a world more of pain. Hoping that jade never goes to school and has this happen to her, hoping that Rose won't go into a protective mother like / psychiatrist mode on you fussing over your bruises and hurt body telling you it's not okay. And Dave trying to teach you threw skype how to fight. 

You know they mean well but it wouldn't do you any good it would only cause your friends more stress. And you know that but you let it go anyway. You are also sure if you didn't accept those lessons from dave he would sneak down to Washington and beat the shit out of them. Not that you haven't thought about asking him too but you know you don't want that. They'll just come back and hit twice as hard once he’s gone. 

You really hope no one notices.

Jade catches you shirtless in your room on the ship in the first few days when she went looking for you to come to talk to and get up to date with.She knows they aren't from fighting monsters. God tiers heal fast. She can't understand what they are from. You don't tell her despite her pleas to know. 

When you acceded, you did not want the bruises to fade and kept them covering your body to remind you of your life before the game. 

She still doesn't understand even after a half-drunk confession at 3 am on your next birthday. You tell her every lie you had told her, Rose, Dave and your dad. She still can't understand how people could be so cruel and why you hid it.

You never get the chance to tell Dave or Rose in the new universe.

They never knew and never would.

==》 Be Rose Lalonde

Your name is Rose Lalonde. You’re walking through the school hall between classes. Students part and move at least a foot away as you pass them. None of them dare to touch you. It’s a lonely existence but you don’t mind too much as they don’t understand most of the things you say to begin with. You keep your head down as you pass them. Pretending to read a book that is opened up on the binders you carry with you. You are all too aware of there eyes on you as you walk.

You spot someone sticking their foot out in a vain attempt to trip you but still trying to keep with the at least a foot away status quo. They wish to trip you. You know they are immature enough to try more then that  you side step their foot anyway. You cause a low gasp and flow of murmurs to fill the hallway. A loud voice pierced the hall after a moment of hesitation. 

“Better watch out or the big bad goth will put a spell on you!”

You ignore the voice keeping your head down as laughter erupted from the people around you. You cringe. You hate the sound of their laughter. You much prefer John’s stifled snorting laugh or Jade’s purely joyful giggle or dave's stoic smile / snort that cracks under a funny enough joke. The bell rings and people rush around you yet still, no one dares touches you after the little show you just put on for them.

In a weird way, you wish they would. A push, a shove, anything really. And if you're being honest with yourself you don't remember the last time someone even touched you or hugged you. You try not to think about it as you walk to math.

When you arrive home later that day you have little to no homework so you immediately head for your computer to talk to Jade, Dave, and John. You pull your laptop from your desk and dodge piles of clothing as you flop on your bed and sprawl out and click the small power button. 

As you await your computer’s startup you fiddle with a half-finished knitting project for John and his upcoming birthday. You are thinking of scrapping the idea and buying him something instead. 

You haven't decided yet. 

Your computer pins about 5 minutes later letting you know that your friends are online. You pull up pesterchum and relax into the familiar rhythm of typing and chatting with your friends. 

GardenGnostic [GG] opened memo

[GG] hey! How was school :D EctoBiologist [EB] answered memo TentacleTherapist [TT] answered memo TurntechGodhead  [TG] answered memo [EB] lots of fun [TT] Uneventful [TG] boring as hell [GG] aww! I wish I could go to public school with other kids!

The first time someone touches you that you now remember is when you enter the game. When you go grimdark and die John kisses you back to life. When you came to, the touch was forgotten except for a light hold on your arm making sure you were okay.

The feeling is still exceptionally foreign to you, even now.

The next time someone touches you it is Dave. He hugs you after you both attain god tier. You do so privately in your room. 

You both held on much longer than required.

The third time you are touched is by Kanaya. She holds your hand for the first time and this time the touch does not seem so scary. 

When the game ends you sit down and explain to Kanaya why you sometimes still shy away from her touch after almost falling off a couch rather Ungracefully as she went to touch your shoulder.

She does not push you to hold hands or even kiss. You are thankful for her but you are sure she still does not grasp how big and drastic the change of no physical contact to small touched and brushes of the shoulder are to you. You hope she never has to understand that feeling in her lifetime. Or that you will one day have to go back to a time without those small reassuring touches. You never want to see that day.

You never do.

==》Be Dave Strider

Your name is now Dave Strider. You're sitting in your room desperately searching for a clean long sleeve shirt before your Bro walks in and drags you off to school. 

The elastic of your jeans are painfully digging into your very boney hips and abdomen as your lean down and search your closet floor one more time before standing again and sighting as you grab yesterday's shirt and start to slip it over your head as your Bro walks in. 

You yelp and jump behind your door. 

“Knock next time!” 

You think he shakes his head before leaving.

You're glad you grabbed that shirt in time or your day would not be spent at school. 

You may have preferred it that way with the day you are about to experience. 

You arrive at school 3 minutes before the first bell for class is meant to ring. You sprint to homeroom and your teacher begrudgingly marks you as here on the attendance sheet. Your shoulders sag and relax for all of 30 seconds before you mentally prepared yourself for the rest of the day as the bell rings for the first period of the day. 

It’s 20 minutes into first period before the first of the whispers start to spread there the room. Soon after the first pieces of paper are thrown at the back of your head. You don't even flinch as they whiz past your head.

You know your teacher sees it.

When that class finally ends you scurry out of the room half sprinting across the building to your next class trying to act as if you're not running from the group of three boys on the school’s football team. You pass your locker and decide to skip your daily visit in exchange of getting to class early to be in the safe zone of not getting into a fight. You know bro will want to fight later today anyway and you don't need the extra bruises. 

You make it through the growing crowds avoiding most people's outstretched elbows and feet meant to trip or nail you in the ribs before making it to the transition hallway. This one is much quieter and empty. Not the ideal place to be headed with now a 4th football player on your trail.

You attempt to sprint down the hallway and make it halfway before one boy pulls you back by your collar half choking you. 

They drop you at there feet and the boy who pulled you back is laughing along with his cronies. 

You wheeze for a few seconds before speaking. 

“The fuck you want Andrew?”

He stops laughing and looks down at you. 

“You know Dave, you aren't fooling anyone with those lame ass shades you freak.“

One of Andrew's cronies cackles with laughter and joins in. 

“Yeah let's see those eyes of yours. Mabey even crush those retarded glasses while we're at it. “

You scramble back a few feet. ‘shit.’ has become a mantra in your head as you see the boys advance. You can not let your shades come off or get sent to the nurse's office. Neither would fare particularly well for you. 

“Can we continue this after school? Wouldn't want to be stuck in another detention with Mr.Soyer. The guy smells like a walking drug shop. Am I the only one that feels that way?” 

You scramble backwards a little more before getting far enough that you can stand. You watch as the small crowd of 4 boys look at one another and have a half-whispered conversation on what to do with you.

”Fine kid.” The venom in his voice is if nothing but a cold warning to stay away.   “Afterschool. 4 VS 1. You're not out back by the old playground down the street were gonna make sure you regret it. Now scram.”

At the end of the day you receive 20 bruises, 3 cuts, and what you think is another broken rib after the beating. At least you got to class on time earlier.

When you enter the house you make a beeline for the bathroom and instantly start your patch up of your skin and start to layer up. You know as soon as you leave the bathroom the note will be sitting on the fridge held up by a flimsy magnet. You can already see the message in your head. 

An hour later and you were not wrong. The note read what it always had and most likely always would.

“Bro. Roof. Now.” 

You had gone.

And come back. 

Only with more bruises on top of the previously earned ones.

You wondered if you needed to go to the hospital with all the damage you’ve taken today. Instead of saying anything and walking the 3 miles to the hospital you log onto your computer and open the pesterchum app client.

There all there waiting for you once you’ve logged in. GardenGnostic [GG] opened memo [GG] hey! How was school :D EctoBiologist [EB] answered memo TentacleTherapist [TT] answered memo TurntechGodhead  [TG] answered memo  [EB] lots of fun [TT] Uneventful [TG] boring as hell [GG] aww! I wish I could go to public school with other kids!

In the game there is a day where you and Karkat decided to lay in your bed together and cuddle. You were hot and absently decided to put on a tee shirt. The moment Karkat sees your arms and back he whispers your name and stands to hug you. 

You are a god tier but becoming one didn't take the scars away. You think maybe the game doesn't remove self inflicted wounds. Or maybe somewhere in your head you still believe you deserved every scar that lays bare on your hips and wrists.

You never realized how much damage all those beatings did to your mental health as well as physical. Karkat and Rose show you this. 

When the day came that you and Karkat had to part, you didn't. You stole your own infinite youth to be next to him. 

You are still scared in death that Rose did the same. 

==》Be Jade Harley

You wake up in the middle of your empty house in your room. Although you suppose the entire house is yours now day’s. 

It's completely silent and you wish maybe you'd wake to the loud gunshots of target practice, or the clanging noise of pots in the kitchen. It's been years and you're not sure you remember ever hearing any of that in your own home or if they were just wishful thinking.

You go through the motions of the day, feeding Bec, making yourself food for breakfast and lunch, sleeping, going on Internet searches that lead you to earn new facts about the world and tending your garden. You do it all listening to music. There is never a second after you wake that you want to hear silence. 

So you don't. 

Then it's the time your friends get home from school and you log onto pesterchum and start a new memo just like every day. 

GardenGnostic [GG] opened memo [GG] hey! How was school :D EctoBiologist [EB] answered memo TentacleTherapist [TT] answered memo TurntechGodhead  [TG] answered memo  [EB] lots of fun [TT] Uneventful [TG] boring as hell [GG] aww! I wish I could go to public school with other kids!

You frown. You're too bubbly and optimistic even for yourself. But you also frown because it's true. They have the privilege to go to a place with noise and real people and not be isolated. You wish you had that. 

The first voice you hear once the game starts is Rose. It's still not enough. 

The first person you see and talk to face to face in years is John. He pulls you close and hugs you. You pretend not to notice how he winces when you press closer to him and wrap your arms around his waist.

You're only 13.

You're 16 when you hug Dave and Rose for the first time.

You're 53 when you hug Dave and Karkat last. Dave kisses your head and says goodbye in the most broken voice you had ever heard before and you close your eyes as he leaves to die. It's silent again as he floating-years time going far far away from their reality.

Your only 189 years old when Kanaya last hugs you and 190 when Rose leaves as well. Rose died of a broken heart and drunk herself to death before she decided it was too much. It was silent the next morning as you all gathered to bury her body next to the now one-year dead troll.

She never said goodbye. 

John and the others slowly lose interest in living over time and you can't say you disagree. At the 912th anniversary of Dave and Karkat's deaths, Dirk and Jake leave as well. Jake hugs you and says “goodbye grandma” as he kisses you on the cheek. Dirk hugs you stiffly. He was never good at human contact as it was but even now almost a 1000 years later nothing changed there.

There buried next to one another. The cemetery is silent as you, Jane, John, Roxy and a small child clutched between the arms of the two stand there and watch the cold graves.

It's another 500 years before you're left with another uncontrollable silence.  You wake up sprawled across the floor to see Jane and Roxy dead, next to you. John is standing shell-shocked with a devastated child at his side.

At 2413 John and your niece leave too. You're left with underwhelming silence all the time now.

At 4013 years old you decide it's finally time to leave too

[hobslobster-remade]

bts as dads

Kim Seokjin - goes out of his ways to embarrass his kids, drops them off to school no matter how old they get, says bye with a super loud “GOODBYE SWEETHEART” that practically everyone can hear, leaves cute little notes in their lunch bags, the kind of dad who loves watching his kids have fun, the dad who would ask for every last detail when his kids’ started dating and would later use that information to embarrass them, strict but sweet

Min Yoongi - acts all cold but his kids know he’s the biggest softie ever, spoils them as much as he can without getting in trouble with his partner, will 100% record everything they do so he can watch it later to smile, if he sees them crying he’ll make silly faces or bring them in for cuddles, anything to make them smile again, calls his daughter “princess” and his son “my little man”

Jung Hoseok - known as the hyperactive dad, plays with his kids until they’re tired but he’s still full of energy, 10/10 would be there to watch his kids fall asleep just so he could smile and revel at how they were his kids, gets sentimental very much (”omg my baby’s growing up so fast TT”), will cheer the loudest at school events, that one dad who slow dances with his daughter on his toes, makes sure to tell them he loves them at least twice everyday

Kim Namjoon - constantly taking care of his kids, asking them if they’re alright and that he’s there if they need to talk, always stressing how important it is for them to be their own individual, cuddles with them when they’re scared of sleeping in their own room, the type to sing to his son or daughter quietly while stroking their hair so they can sleep, always bragging about his kids no matter what they do, surprise visits to their university (no matter how far it is) if they called and said they were having a bad day

Park Jimin - takes endless pictures of him and his kids, laughs the hardest whenever they do something cute and can’t help but just bring them in for a big mochi hug, cooks for the kids even if the food is terrible, softie #2 - will spoil his kids endlessly because he gives in too easily (”they’re just so cute!”), wakes them up with a soft good morning and tons of kisses on their little faces

Kim Taehyung - known as the BEST DAD EVER, is cool and hip in front of others but in front of his kids he’s just a big ball of mush, fake arm wrestles with them and loses dramatically, roleplays with his kids and usually ends up dying a dramatic death, is always reluctant to let his kids out of his sight, never wants them to leave him, very impulsive and buys toys he knows they’ll get bored of eventually but he likes the rush of knowing it’ll bring them joy for a while

Jeon Jungkook - the number one faker dad, pretends to pout and says stuff like “ah, i wish ____ and _____ loved me as much i love them...” until his kids attack him with hugs and kisses, will be the first to smile at what they do, pampers his daughter and plays video games with his son, the fond parent who coos over everything they do and contrary to popular belief, embarrasses them to no end, the dad who takes pictures of them when they least expect it and then shows the pictures at a family gathering, probably just stops and stares with tears in his eyes when he realises his son his taller than him, would cry the most at his kids’ weddings