dorkxknightâ:
âi mean, his headquarters is in a cave,â stephanie grinned and shoveled an oreo into the jar of peanut butter until there was enough peanut butter piled on top of the cookie to topple over onto the pristine marble countertop on the precarious journey to her waiting mouth. âwhat else was he supposed to be? a bear?â she snorted at the image of bearman themed porn and then her expression soured as the reality of bruce fucking in a bear suit set in. âthe gay community wouldnât know what to do with themselves, and the villains would laugh in the face of a hidden hairy dad bod.â
stephanie smiled at him and cleaned her front teeth of peanut butter and chocolate cookie residue with her tongue. the softness was always far more present in his eyes than his words. she knew that she really got him when it leaked into his tone, too. âthatâs just one of the many perks of rooming with steph brown.âÂ
she titled her chin, and her eyes went soft as her lips twitched into a slip of a smile. âchildhood trauma erases a lot of bad, d. the only thing that counts is if you try to overcome it.â she understood the complexity of taking on the sins of the father (( and mother in damianâs case )). it was so easy to tell him that it wasnât his fault; it was never his faultââbut she still moved feverishly to outrun everything her father did to her and everyone else who had the misfortune of crossing his path. âoh, iâm a young soul,â stephanie hummed, lacing their fingers together and squeezing his hand lightly. âyou wouldnât know it because iâm so wise, but i havenât been around nearly as long as you have. you have the weight of the dozens of lives youâve lived before.âÂ
damian snorted. as though he could keep his headquarters in a fanciful tower in the middle of a city. wayne enterprises as a real headquarters, perhaps. âa bear at least has a greater killing reputation than a vegetarian animal. perhaps it might have intimidated the penguin. and i would ask you to refrain from using the phrase âdad bodâ to refer to my deseased father. i find it... gross.â somehow in his life, heâd only broken his nose twice. once knocked a kink into it that sent it in the wrong direction, and the second time pushed it back, leaving a lump in the bridge but at least it was straight. the bump served to exaggerated his wrinkled nose the same way his baby fat had when he was a child.
âif my grandfather had his way, i certainly would have lived dozens of lives, in a way. i suppose iâll never know how many men he killed to take the form of, or if their minds persisted in any way against him and the force of the lazarus pit. perhaps my birth was just a reincarnation of a man heâd wronged before, destined to be his undoing because of my motherâs inability to let go of her twisted love for my father. then my work would be done. grandfather died. mother is who knows where. sheâs been very cross with me since i had fatherâs body cremated and hid the ashes from her. she did make a halfhearted pass at poisoning me for it.â it wasnât exactly romantic or deep conversation like she wanted, but it was almost easier for him to discuss his homicidal maternal line than how he thought stephanie had a destiny entwined with his because of how perfectly she always fit into his life when given the chance.
he let out a long sigh, knocking the crumbs from his fingers onto the counter. âyou always took pride in being older than me. now you say it is my soul that is older than you. i suppose you always have preferred older men.â

















