grease is best thing right now

anonymous asked:

KYAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!! Le me is ded!!! I wish you would continue the other anon wish about batfam appreciating damian when he thinks they don't!! Omg that hurt so good <3

Thank you, darling! Here’s Jason! I think I’ll add more as they come, I got a few requests that fit nicely with the first one. We’ll call this series “5+ times Damian wandered down to the cave and a member of his family just randomly and indirectly told him that they loved him” or, you know, something shorter along that line.

It’s one of those night where sleep simply isn’t a viable option for him, so Damian wanders down to the cave to find something to work on. An old case, a new weapon, maybe just training. As long as it keeps him busy, it doesn’t matter.

He spots Jason laying on the ground of the car workshop almost immediately, and decides to ignore him out of the goodness of his heart, even if they both know that he has no right to be here. Todd, ill-mannered as ever, doesn’t return him the favor.

The moment he hears him stepping in, Jason resurfaces from under the car he’s currently fixing and whistles to call him. Whistles. Like Damian were a dog. 

“Hey brat, c’mere.”


“What do you mean no?”

Damian glares, Jason raises an eyebrow. They both exhibit an impressive pair of bags under their eyes, but neither of them is in the position to comment on that.

“It means that I didn’t forgot about the time you dared to put those filthy hands of yours on me, Todd.”

“Jeez, kid”, Jason scoffs, sitting up to look at him. “It was only a wedgie. You make it sound like I beated you or something.”

“Tt. You would never be able to beat me.”

“I would never beat you, period”, Jason retorts harshly, and perhaps too quickly.

Damian opens his mouth to reply that what Jason would or would not do is of little consequence to him, but Jason’s face scrunches up in a funny way while the man anticipates him.

“You know that, right?”, Jason urges him all of sudden. “You know that I would never- I mean, yes, we didn’t have the best start, what with me shooting you and all, but things are… different now, right? You’re my- I wouldn’t-”

His voice wavers, then fades, and Damian honestly doesn’t know what to do with those half-sentences.

“Tt”, he answers then, looking at his feet.

Jason runs a hand over his face and looks away from him. He looks even weirder now, sitting on the floor cave, covered in grease, his whole body hardened by a mix of anger and sadness and other things Damian doesn’t care to identify.

“What did you want from me?”, he asks anyway, just to break the silence. But Jason sighs and shakes his head, lying down again to return to his work.

“Nevermind, kid.”

Damian marches towards him and his stomping feet create an echo through the whole cave.

“Tell me”, he orders.

Jason sighs again.

“The car”, he answers. “Dick says that you’re quite good with ‘em.”

“Of course I am.”

It doesn’t go unnoticed to him that Jason doesn’t ask directly for his help. Damian kneels down anyway and, squeezing and wriggling, lays down next to him under the car.

He lets Jason begin to explain the problem to him even if he has already a good idea of what it is after one look at the transmission system, and only reaches out for a wrench when Jason’s finished. He guesses that he can humor both Jason and himself for tonight. After all, it’s not like he has better things to do.

Send me an anonymous ask completing the sentence “I wish you would write a fic where… (REQUESTS CLOSED, SORRY!)

New York City - part 2 of It Won't Kill Ya


“To know what it’s like to love somebody the way I love you
To know what it’s like to love somebody the way I love you
To know how it feels to kill yourself with bad habits
To know what you want, know you’ll never truly have it,”

Ever since Harry started dating Tess, Y/n’s time with Harry seemed to dissipate. He was always busy taking her to all of y/n’s favorite places, doing the things y/n loved to do together, and just being genuinely happy. Though y/n knew Harry’s happiness should come first, in her heart all y/n could feel was jealousy, rage, and pain. How dare he do everything the two of them did together with her? How dare Harry cut y/n out of his life for Tess? Wasn’t y/n his best friend, didn’t she mean anything to him?

She’d seen the couple out with her friends a couple times. Her friends. Y/n’s and Harry’s group had kinda shoved y/n gently out of group hang-outs. Frustrated tears fell from her eyes as she sat alone in her and Harry’s apartment. How could two roommates never see each other? Y/N had moved her unmotivated body to her fire escape. She sat on the make shift balcony and wondered if things would ever be the same. Her gaze lowered to the street under her. That familiar laugh fluttered through the air.
She closed her eyes and reveled in the sound. There Harry and Tess were, walking up the steps to his apartment. He had gently, though swiftly, trapped Tess against the wall of their stoop. ‘That should be me’ Y/N despised the bitter taste of jealousy constantly being in her mouth. Most importantly she despised the distance Harry created between them in only a month. This is probably the closest she would ever get to him, ever. Maybe she should move out. He’d be happier if she’s gone and out of the way….

“New York City, please go easy on me, tonight
When I went away, saw your face in my rear-view
I knew that look on your face, that I had lost you”

Y/N was tired of feeling alone. She decided to go out on her own and make friends with people in the city. Someone who Harry had never laid eyes on. That didnt work out so well. She tried going to a bar, but her mind was racing with self deprecating thoughts. She sat there fiddling with her hand–something had done when she was nervous– and nursing a fruity drink. Y/N always felt like an outsider in a room full of people who loved her. So put her in a room full of drunk strangers and you got one upset Y/N with a million sad thoughts racing through her mind. She decides to drink until she can’t feel anymore, but even that doesnt help the thought echoing in her head over and over again. 'You’re not good enough.’ Feeling sorry for herself, she grabbed her coat and exited the bar.
She knew one thing would cheer her up right now-a movie night with Harry. Harry and her would turn into kids and create a fort out of their couch cushions and put on Y/N’s favorite musicals. They always started the night off with Chicago, moving onto Grease, then Hair Spray, onto some Disney films, and always landing on her favorite, Across the Universe.–But, that was out of the question. So she settled for second best: food. She stopped at McDonalds by her apartment. She ordered a ton of food and ice cream. She sat and waited for her order. Y/N must admit she was excited to eat. It was obvious that Harry had earned more money than Y/N could think of. Y/N worked as a waitress at a popular restaurant. She hadn’t really decided what she wanted to be yet, so the job would have to do yet. So, Harry had generously had offered to buy the apartment groceries. She accepted his offer mainly 'cause she knew that it would not put him out. But, ever since Tess. He hadn’t even spoken to her, let alone been home to see that they were out of food. So Y/N settled for bodega milk and little snacks for the last month. She really didn’t want to bother Harry anymore than she already did so she never told him how hungry she was. Tonight, she would finally splurge.
The shop door bell rang, indicating some one had walked in. Y/N turned her head absent mindedly and immediately looked away. Louis looked cozy in his sweatpants as he slowly approached her. Y/N refused to meet her friends eyes. She hadn’t seen him for a long while. He had been on tour with Steve Aoki, doing small promotions for their single.
“Hey, loove.” Lou smiled. Y/N could only think to nod. “What did you order then?”
y/n just silently shows him the receipt. He laughs impressed. “So, how ‘ave ya been?” She sighed. She hadn’t admitted to anyone how hurt she was, let alone, how she felt about Harry. So, instead she gave him a look. The look resonated with Louis. Her eyes were glossy, she was fiddling with a paper napkin– tearing small bits off and then rolling them into mini joint look-alikes.That was just a part of her nervous habits. He knew she wasn’t okay and he an idea as to why.
“I am just tired…” She whispered softly and of course Louis didn’t buy it. It was clear she was tired, but she also reeked of alcohol. Louis knows that Y/N hardly ever drinks unless she is upset.
“Number 9077!” The worker called out. Y/N got up and grabbed her order. She stumbled a little one her way back to Louis. She knew she couldn’t tell him. It’s too hard to say–she felt pathetic for letting herself let her emotions control a simple interaction with one of her friends.
Louis reached out to grab her wrist. His touch was gentle. The last thing he wanted to do was push her or make her upset. “Whas goin’ on loove?” He asks again, quietly. So, she sat down across from him, took a sip of her Coke, and offered her fries to Louis– which he glady he accepted. He kept badgering her, he wanted to help his friend and it honestly hurt him to see her in clear turmoil. She wasn’t an expert at hiding her emotions.
Y/N finally confessed. She explains to Louis about how she cries herself to sleep, because not only was she jealous that her best friend clearly did not love her the way she loved him, but she was loosing her best friend all together. Louis had moved from his side of the table to hers, wrapping an arm around her. She cried on his shoulder for what feels like hours. When her tears cease, she lets Louis; walk her home, tuck her into her bed, and kiss her forehead goodnight.
For the first time, in a long while, Y/N falls asleep knowing that someone listened, someone cares: she is not alone. Louis closes her door gently and twist quietly to leave the hallway, jumping a little when he sees his ex-band mate standing there with arms crossed and eye brows furrowed. “What the hell?”


You sit down to write a list of all the things you’re greatful for so that you’re ready to say good bye. You’re careful- each reason has to really count. People talk all the time about valuing the little moments, but how many of them can actually articulate what makes them big?

You’re 22 deep when its time to let go. You know you’re not done, but you’ve had enough.


The world is slower now. It heard whispers of your get away plans and now time is spinning a counterplan of its own. You make a list of all your debts. We all owe a certain amount to Time. We all owe a certain amount of pain. We’ll all pay it one way or another. And Subjectivity is Time’s best friend.

I bet you’re missing yours right about now.


You count hours in hope that it will keep your days from blending together. You’re not sure when you last felt hungry, and you don’t remember there being this much grease in your hair a few minutes ago. You make a list of all the moments you’ve let life go wrong.

You’re about to nose dive into eternity. How far into eternity do you think you can get before you lose your mind again?


There are lots of things to think about when the minutes aren’t minutes anymore. They were lying, but it was kind of them. You should have eaten more fruit. That dress wasn’t as pretty as you thought it was. They’re gone. You make a list of all the moments you were wrong about.

Someone told you that you’d be wrong about everything once. Just like you’d be wrong for trying to leave him.


You can’t tell which memories from the last five years are real. You’ve always had an overachieving imagination. Maybe the friendships you’re so attached to haven’t really existed. Maybe the moments you cling to were actually duller than you needed them to be. You make a list of all the terrible things he said you deserved.

Those you know for sure are real. You can read his words whenever you run your hands over the puffy, pink lines in your skin.


The sun doesn’t mean safety. The sun has never protected you from anything. And you’re not certain if the sun is coming or going anymore, but you hope it feels guilty for not saving you. You make a list of the things you’ve shouted at the sky.

You know the universe doesn’t give a fuck, but there are people all over the world looking up, feeling the same way you do. You wish they didn’t.


You can’t tell if the clock across the room is lying to you, but it must be, because everybody lies. You try to do it indirectly so that you can feel good about your dishonesty, but personal hells like the one you’ve built don’t discriminate against people who just choose not to tell the whole truth. You make a list of all the lies you’ve told the people you love.

You tell yourself that you’re paying for every single one so that they don’t have to. But the reality is that they are just as afraid of the truth as you are. Its easy to avoid.


The light in your room is shifting and you can’t find the door anymore. You’ve always felt a little trapped, but you’re getting used to it. If you can’t get out, no one can get in, and that’s the closest thing to safety you have now.You make a list of all the things that were taken away from you.

You count the shadows along your wall. You think there is one more than there was before.


You don’t know how long the shadow in the corner has been there, but you can feel its anger the same way you did the day he was made. He follows you all the time now. He reminds you of your flaws. He grows with your fear, and you’re trying not to feed him as often as you have been. You make a list of all the ways you could have gotten away.

He laughs at your self loathing. You wonder why Time favors dreams laced with monsters.


Theres no distinction from the nightmares you’re plagued with and the reality you’ve created for yourself anymore. The clock ticks. Clothes rip. Skin bleeds. The pressure in your chest is choking you, and the shadow is telling tales of satisfaction. You make a list of all the days you’ve survived.

You don’t know how many days you’ll be able to add to it. You know you’re not done, but you’ve had enough.