Is it just me or is anyone still trying to wrap their head around that Lex Luther is “good?￼”
So while I was working on It Wouldn’t Be Make Believe (If You Believed In Me), my brain abruptly gave me a completely different Super Sons fake dating scenario, insisted that I write two scenes, and then abandoned me entirely. There is like a 1% chance that I will ever finish this so instead I offer it up to you, my very patient friends. (Don’t worry, I have different Jon/Damian fics planned!)
Also, this completely ignores the Bendis run, because…well, you know why. SIGH.
Damian cast a weary eye over the guests assembled at the gala, the latest tribute of the Gotham elite to their own wealth and frivolity. He wasn’t even sure what this one was ostensibly raising money for, but he had a feeling most of that money had gone into the refreshments and entertainment rather than the intended charitable recipients.
He hated these things, but Father was in space with the Justice League, Richard was undercover, Drake was on Earth-3, and Todd was just generally unsuitable for public consumption. Once again it fell to Damian, as the heir to the Wayne name, to carry the entire family on his shoulders. He usually didn’t mind, except when it took the form of wearing a tuxedo and making small talk with empty-headed socialites.
Maybe the Riddler or someone would show up and try to steal everyone’s jewelry. That would be a pleasing diversion.
He saw Gracie Van Nuyck, daughter of one of the few Gotham families older than the Waynes, making her way over to him and quickly took out his phone. He was meant to be the latest irresponsible Wayne playboy; he could be rude and spend a whole party texting and not talking to anyone as long as he kept a stupid expression on his face.
He already had a few texts from Jon, he saw when he unlocked his phone.
giant kraken attacking honolulu
titans & i r teleporting over
Damian clicked his tongue.
I know you’re overriding your autocorrected capitalization to irritate me.
And I can’t. I have to attend this gala.
sucks 2 b u 🐟 🐠 🐬
Damián Wayne 🌕
Friend: Do you ever get sad about how the BNHA kids never really get to experience being normal kids and are instead unknowingly and willingly being trained into soldiers?
Me:*someone who has read years worth of teen hero comics and has read many fanfics about them just being kids* sometimes…
Talia’s Modus Oparandi is “imma kill a bitch” and honestly I’m here for it
If the CW doesn’t make Jonathan Kent a himbo/dumb jock in the new Superman and Lois TV show I will be so disappointed￼￼
Send me an ask, anon or not, just so I get a feeler for how many people are interested
It felt stupid. To not have solved it. To not have known what to expect.
To not have saved him.
To see Jon approach him with sorrowful eyes, a few heads taller than before. A few years older than before. It felt ridiculously stupid.
Because Damian had been searching. Damian had put a tracker on Jon’s sweater, and he had shrugged it off when he couldn’t pinpoint Jon in outer space.
Damian was wrong to trust that it was a simple vacation.
Damian was stupid to trust.
When he and Jon had a small talk over a late evening snack, when he tried his best to explain things to Damian, it didn’t feel possible. For Jon to be not only taller than him, but older?
Yet that wasn’t what exactly bothered Damian.
What bothered Damian was the fact that Jon grew up without him.
No, that’s a lie.
It hurt that Damian wasn’t going to grow up with Jon.
And Jon explained it so swiftly, so maturely. As an ‘oh, bummer’ expression. Damian didn’t like that either. He had grown so close with Jon, with a Jon that was annoyingly giddy and happy.
So no, Damian didn’t know what to think. He couldn’t exactly show his unappretiation of the change ocurred, yet it anoyed him that Jon was so calm about it. ‘Oh I just grew a few years and left you and haha whoops!’.
It hurt Damian.
So he didn’t sleep. He didn’t sleep that night. Nor the night after. He couldn’t help but stay up, burning uncessant memories he could materialize. He burned pictures, he burned drawings, he wanted to burn himself. When he turned to an image of the two, an image in which Damian was smiling, he frowned.
He tossed it in the fire as well.
Burning tears fell from his cheeks, tears of disappointment. He had really thought Jon was bound to stick around.
He was a disappointment to himself, for letting such foolish aspirations puzzle with his brain.
Days passed, and Damian didn’t sleep. He didn’t get out of his room. He turned down unimportant missions. Alfred came in ocassionally, with trays of food and drinks.
It lasted a bit less than a week, until Damian heard a knock on his window.
It was Jon.
But Damian didn’t care. He wasn’t going to let himself be fooled.
Jon knocked again.
Damian didn’t look at him.
Once more, Damian heard a knock.
Once more, he ignored it.
The next sound he heard wasn’t a knock on the window.
It was the sound of glass shattering.
Crystals of what used to be Damian’s bedroom window filled the room, yet Damian kept still, his back turned on the source of intranquility.
Damian felt Jon move towards him. Jon sat down beside him. He didn’t make a sound.
So neither did Damian.
They sat in silence for what in reality was just three minutes.
Still, neither of them spoke up.
Prior minutes, Alfred had come rushing, looking for the cause of the shatter that still seemed to echo throughout the house. Bruce stopped him, for he knew what was happening, and who was in the room.
The silence was broken by Jon, but it wasn’t his voice that broke it.
Damian looked at his lap, his eyebrows knotched together. While breaking the silence, the sound of sizzling, a sound Damian personally used to love, was accompanied by the smell of burnt fabric.
From the corner of his eye, Damian saw a newly burnt hole in Jon’s cape. Damian imagined Jon’s eyes red, and being the cause of flames. Red with anger, burning with fury.
What Damian heard, he didn’t pay attention to. His eyes were still fixed on his lap, but his hands were shaking now.
Damian heard it again, a whisper. A voice breaking.
“I’m so sorry.” It said. “I’m so sorry.”
Damian’s face was now buried in his knees, his arms embracing such. The sound he heard next, was muffled and distortioned. It wasn’t a voice.
It was the sound of movement.
Damian then felt fingers to his forehead. They pressed his head back, and Damian saw Jon kneeling in front of him, his fingers still on Damian’s forehead. His eyes were glazed red, and tears were running down his cheeks. Damian reached for his own cheekbones and wasn’t all surprised when he felt them wet as well.
Jon’s index finger left Damian’s forehead. Both his hands grasped Damian’s shoulders.
Damian tried to pull away. He wasn’t going to be fooled again.
Jon didn’t let him. New tears were running down his cheeks, and Jon didn’t make a sound.
He hugged him. Jon’s arms embraced Damian, yet Damian held still. He wasn’t going to be fooled again.
Damian felt his shoulder grow humid. “I’m so sorry, Damian.” Jon sobbed into his shoulder. “I- I’m so sorry.”
Damian’s hands slowly moved and patted Jon’s back. He kept himself from saying it was okay, because it wasn’t.
“We can work through it, Jon. It’s going to be fine. Maybe not as great as it was before, but-”
Jon sobbed louder. “I just want it to be like before, Dami… why is that so hard? Was it this hard when you were… you know, little?”
Damian stiffled a chuckle. It was harder, all right.
But this hurt just as much.
“Are we still friends, Damian?” Jon’s voice wasn’t any clearer. He was still clinging on Damian’s turtleneck sweater.
“I think so…”
Jon whimpered. “…. you think so?”
“Yeah. Yeah, we’re still friends. We’re going to be fine.” Damian didn’t exactly believe it now, but he would.
Damian doesn’t like Jon anymore. Sure, this new guy who walks and talks and looks like Jon may be parading around wearing his face. But Damian knows Jon. Jon was one of the few people Damian
enjoys tolerates being around voluntarily. Not out of familial obligation or expectations that grew into mutual respect, but simply a feeling of relaxation that comes with being in his company. And whoever this person is that Jon Kent supposedly grew up to be, it’s not Jon.
Jon Kent’s eyes are bright and at first glance, seem like the epitome of happiness. But Damian doesn’t realize how people don’t look behind them, how people don’t see the pure hunger and determination written into every aspect of him. The need to prove himself, to show everyone that no, he’s not just another Superboy after Conner. No, he’s not Superman’s son. He is Jon Kent, and he’s bold, brave, and powerful. He’s the kid who stood toe to toe with a child assassin, looked him in the eye, and demanded respect. He’s projects life out of every pore of his body, and he knows exactly who he is, who he wants to be.
This new Jon is quiet. That’s to be expected, he is older after all, but it rubs Damian the wrong way. This new Jon puts on a near perfect front of maturity, of self-assurance. That’s part of the problem. Jon never used to put up a front, put on a mask. His face was clear, and he showed everyone exactly who he was. This new Jon pretends to have grown up, but he’s scared. He’s insecure. He’s quiet in all the wrong ways. In reality, he doesn’t like the way he grew up, he doesn’t like the way he left his friends behind. He wants Damian backing him up, the way he always did, but he thinks he’s not supposed to need that help anymore. He feels like he doesn’t belong, too advanced for the present and too retro for the future. His confidence, the thing that drew Damian to him in the first place, is gone.
For the first time in his life, Jon is afraid of Damian. Even when he was a kid, he was one of the few people who genuinely wasn’t scared of him. Damian might be violent and abrasive and rude to everyone around him but he cares. He doesn’t let a lot of people in, but when he does, he’ll do just about anything to make sure they can stay safe. Jon saw this, the first time he met Damian. He wasn’t entirely sure if Damian let him see that side of him, or maybe he’s just naturally better at reading Damian than most people, but that little hint of love and care is what made Jon give him a chance, what pulled him to follow Damian on his adventures and go along with his plans. He was never scared of Damian, because he had nothing to fear.
Now? Now he’s terrified. Because Damian’s withdrawn. Ever since he’s been back, their dynamic’s been thrown off. Jon expected that, of course he did. He just never realized how much. Damian looks at him with suspicion in his eyes and withdraws from his touches. The trust that Jon worked so hard to gain was waning.
Damian’s become erratic. Part of Jon wants to drag Dick down here to shove some sense in him, but Dick’s apparently lost his memory. So Dick was gone and Jon was gone and Alfred’s dead and Damian’s lost his anchors. He’s falling apart, he’s given up on Robin because he’s bought into his mother’s lies. He thinks he’s a weapon, a thing built to kill, to serve. There’s no one to remind him of his humanity anymore.
So Jon’s scared. He’s scared that Damian’s forgotten he’s human, he’s scared Damian’s gone past the point of no return. He’s scared Damian will do something he’ll regret. He’s scared Damian will do something and won’t regret it at all. And he’s absolutely terrified of Damian finally closing the distance between them for good, finally pushing Jon away one last time. Finally moving on from the idea of friendship. And Jon’s scared that no one will ever be able to bring Damian back.
Jon: *takes a free sample twice*
Jon: I love robbery and fraud >:)