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---
Jason sighed as he looked at himself in the mirror, one hand immediately going for the taped gauze on his shoulder. He knew what he would find, even if he hadn't seen it himself yet. Between waking up at the Manor, figuring out what happened and a tense conversation with Jazz, he hadn't had a single moment alone to check the physical proof on his body of what Jazz explained happened.
She bit him. If it hadn't been in the worst situation ever, he would have found it hilarious. He would have cracked a joke or two about Jazz being a vampire after all. Maybe even ask her if she would do it again and watch her face become as red as a tomato.
Of course he couldn't even have that. He had been out of his mind and tried to kill her, instead. Just perfect.
The bite itself was okay, halfway healed. He knew he healed faster than average, but since he got a dose of pure ectoplasm he noticed that small cuts and scratches healed the same day; so the bite was already a faint pink scar on his shoulder, and he didn't need to cover it anymore.
He wondered if Jazz's wounds had healed already. He had asked to see the stabbing wound the moment he pieced together the scattered memories, horrified of what he had done, and said sorry enough times that Jazz had to stop him with a kiss.
At least you didn't shoot me. She had said, but it wasn't as comforting as she thought it was. He could have perfectly shot her, he knew. The fact he went for a knife was something short of a miracle.
Because he remembered. Bits and pieces of a screaming argument, where Jazz found the perfect words to hit him where it hurts, and he remembered enough.
It was all temporary, darling. Did you really think I loved you?
It was a fun diversion while I lay low, but you are not boyfriend material after all.
Why would a Princess waste her time playing games?
He knew it really wasn't her, or at least now he knew. He could have ignored her words better if she wasn't actually there and a mere hallucination; but the moment she showed up and he could fight her physically, it was like he couldn't find it in him the will to resist the thought it wasn't real.
He knew he hurt her, deeply, and not just with the knife. Jazz had dismissed his worries and assured him she knew it wasn't really him, that she was familiar with the effects of the fear toxin and understood better than most that he was reacting to something that wasn't true. Somehow, her normal rant about chemical imbalances and psychological effects didn't reassure him as intended.
The following make-up-make-out session did help, he thought with a small smile. If her goal was to distract him then she achieved it, since he was very distracted by her lips and her touch. It was like she knew where to kiss, where to rake her teeth against his skin, to make his heart go into overdrive.
He knew she wasn't into it was much as he did, being somewhere in the asexual spectrum, but apart from a confirmation that she enjoyed making out with him and she would ask him to stop if she wasn't, they hadn't discussed further expectations regarding sex. He knew they were taking it slow, he understood she was the one who should set the pace and he would take any crumb she offered; but even for him, who avoided emotional conversations like the plague, it was getting quite confusing if she wanted to have sex with him or not after all.
Somehow he didn't think she would ever bring it up. Jazz was a master at avoiding talking about the things she really cared about ā Oh, the irony.
With a chuckle, he shook his head and went back to his room. Apparently, he had to start packing for a long weekend.
They were going to the Infinite Realms.
Finally, some answers.
***
Jazz's bike was already rumbling when he met her downstairs at the alley. She had left earlier to check everything was perfectly functional with the motorcycle, specially the portal device. He tried, and apparently failed, given Jazz's small smirk, to not appear too excited about the trip.
"Ready to go?" She smiled up at him, giving him a quick peck on the lips.
"Someone's excited." He commented before she could call him out.
Jazz chuckled, adjusting the small satchel on the side of the bike, where she had the few belongings she'd bring since she said most of her stuff was still at the Keep. "I haven't been back since I moved here. I don't know, it feels like coming home for Christmas break or something."
Funny. Neither of them really had such an experience in their youth. Still, he squeezed her uninjured shoulder and went to place his stuff on the other side.
"Let's go."
Riding behind the smaller body of his girlfriend was always an experience. A part of his brain still expected the vehicle to topple over from being unbalanced, or for Jazz to struggle when doing a turn ā but it was a testament of her strength, and maybe ghostly abilities, how she wasn't affected by the weight distribution and maneuvered the bike like Jason weighted half of what he really did.
"Any tips for the Infinite Realms?" He asked as she got ready to turn on the portal. "Do I need to hold my breath?"
Jazz hummed, smiling over her shoulder, and it was the hottest thing he had ever seen. "I'd recommend closing your eyes for the first few times. Jumping dimensions can be a bit too much to the senses."
She clicked a button on the handle and a portal manifested right in front of them on the wall at the back of the side alley. It was Lazarus Pit green, with a solid line where the rip between dimensions happened, stretching matter apart; and a swirling green vortex glowing in the middle. If he didn't know what it was, and he wasn't with the company he was with, he was man enough to recognize it would creep him out.
Jazz revved the bike's engine, kicked the stand and launched them right into the middle of the vortex.
He didn't listen to her warnings, and of course it was the worst trip he had ever gone through. It was like being on different types of drugs at once ā feeling his body squished and stretched at the same time, watching swirling green lights take over everything, feeling air that was warm, cold and viscous at the same time. The only thing keeping him grounded was Jazz between his arms and the rumbling of the engine between his thighs.
And Jazz's laugh, once she looked back and saw the face he was making.
"Told you so."
He shook his head, trying to chase away the bad sensory input, and focused on what he could see now that they were safely on the other side of the portal.
Everything was green. And, well, Infinite.
It didn't matter where he looked, there was a vast expanse of green floating pieces of land against a different shade of green sky. Even the land they were riding on was floating, with an equally vast drop on either side of the narrow piece of road they were on.
"Hold on tight!" She screamed over the rumbling engine.
He did what asked without question, and she revved the engine so they moved faster, probably faster than what was safe to be. Soon he understood why as the road ended abruptly and they jumped over the edge.
But they weren't falling. They were flying.
Why did Jazz move to Gotham, when this was way cooler? It was almost like floating in space, except the way Jazz moved the bike was purposely and practiced, like she could find some invisible gravitational string to keep them moving forward.
She dipped them downwards, falling and turning this and that way following a route he couldn't see, before pulling them back up. He was half tempted to react like he was in a rollercoaster.
After a few minutes of this, they arrived at this mysterious Keep he kept hearing about. It wasn't there and it was like she took a turn and a whole castle materialized out of thin air ā complete with a main building, gardens and secondary buildings around it.
It was big, the biggest piece of land he had seen in the Infinite Reals so far, and he could see the attempts to make it more home and less creepy evil Skeletor castle from Masters of the Universe. Definitely a Fortress more than a pleasure home, the Keep was taken out straight from a medieval drama TV show.
"Home, sweet home." Jazz said, pulling up towards a side entrance he didn't notice at first, ignoring the giant gates with spikes at the front.
It was a repurposed stables, he assumed, by how it was where all their vehicles were parked. He recognized what he assumed was Danny's bike ā a carbon copy of Jazz's except colored white and ectoplasm green instead of teal and black ā some kind of submarine-slash-spaceship and finally a whole ass Egyptian style carriage, sans horses.
Huh. He had to be okay with weirder and weirder thing the more they spend here, he supposed.
***
After unpacking and given a brief tour of the castle, they were feeling snackish so they set course for the kitchens.
So far they were fairly uninterrupted, but the Keep was full of people waking around ā servants, scholars, guards and various staff. There were also some random ghosts he wasn't able to discern what or who exactly they were, but they were as formal with Jazz as the rest, giving a nod or salute or curtsy with a brief "Your Highness" that he wasn't used to no matter how many times he heard it.
However, the ghost that stood now in front of them was out of the norm.
"Oh hey, you are real after all." The ghost, some kind of nineties rejected rock star, leaned in. "And a real hot piece of ass, too." She added, pushing down her sunglasses so she could see Jason better. Sunglasses weren't exactly needed in the Infinite Realms, so there were definitely for aesthetic reasons.
"Hello, Ember." Jazz didn't acknowledge her comment. "Good to see you too."
"Girl, you should tell me where you found this one. I may go on vacation topside myself."
He noticed Jazz flinch a little, but only because he knew where to look.
"Jason," he said, extending a hand for her to shake.
She seemed amused. "I know who you are, princeling," she grabbed his hand and pulled with surprisingly a lot of strength, "ghosts looove gossip, and the Ice Queen landing such a hunk is the hottest thing since Box Ghost and Lunch Lady got married."
"Ice Queen?" Jazz murmured under her breath.
The ghost, Ember, arched her body into his, her flaming ponytail flickering too close to his skin. "If you are looking for third I don't mind sharing. The Crown Princess has been on my bucket list for a while." She winked and jumped back, just in time to avoid one of Jazz's deadly kicks.
"Ember, behave."
She purred. "This is me behaving, girliepop." She adjusted her sunglasses once again and turned around to leave. "By the way, Fright Knight has been sulking for ages. You have to do something about it, woman." She huffed. "If I have to hear one more sonnet about his broken heart I'm going to slip back to old ways and won't regret it."
Without further comment, the ghostly woman walked around the corner and disappeared. Jazz grumbled something under her breath, grabbed his wrist and pulled back to their initial route to the kitchens.
"Soā¦ Ice Queen?" He tried.
"I have no idea what's that about. Not like we have any say in the ridiculous epithets people use for us."
"Us?"
"Team Phantom." She shook her head. "We don't do it for the glory, but every damn time there's a new ridiculous name or title or epithet."
"Like the Red Demon?"
Jazz shuddered. "Remind me to make a pit stop at the Ghost Writer's lair and beat that name out of him."
"Jazz? Is that you?"
Both stopped at an opened door, where a metallic repetitive noise was coming from. They peeked in, finding a pale, dark haired woman sitting on the floor surrounded by blades of different shapes and sizes, and a full set of sharpening and polishing tools in her hands.
Next to her, on a wooden desk, a dark skinned young man adjusted his glasses, eyes blinking slowly as he recovered from looking at the gigantic monitors of an impressive set up that rivaled Oracle's back at the Clocktower. Jason could almost recognize some kind of coding program, but it wasn't anything he knew, and the characters weren't in a language he could discern. It tickled his brain, almost as if he was supposed to understand, just like when he tried to read the Ballad of the Red Demon back at the Manor.
"It is you!" The man jumped from the desk, quickly approaching the pair. He hugged Jazz deeply, like he really had missed her. "Dude! It's been ages!"
"You must be Tucker."
The young man froze at being addressed, turning slowly towards Jason. He squinted, took off his glasses and cleaned them, and put them back on again.
"Holy shit, you are real!"
"Have you been hallucinating again, Tuck?" The unknown young woman said. From context, Jason assumed that was Sam.
"Yes, and the rumors were true!"
"You dont believe Danny?"
"You know he tends to, uh, embellish the truth a little."
Jazz giggled, Sam rolled her eyes. Jason had to agree, given what he had experienced with the young King.
He wondered what else he said, and if he would be recognized like this everywhere in the Ghost Realm. If there was one thing about dying he enjoyed it was the anonymity. It would be quite ironic he wouldn't have that in the land of the dead.
***
"And this is my room!" Jazz excitedly opened a door. "Is bigger on the inside!"
Indeed that was ā It was gigantic. Bigger than all his safe houses combined, maybe the size of an entire floor of the Wayne Manor.
First thing they encountered was a sitting room of some kind, with a couple bookshelves and a reading nook next to a window. It somewhat reminded him of her apartment in Gotham, simple and utilitarian, focused on comfort and usefulness than opulence or big shows of money. She didn't have a TV here either, but he wasn't sure there was cable in the Infinite Realms, so he couldn't determine if it was a Jazz thing or a ghost thing.
Around the sitting room were a series of doors, some opened and some closed, where he could see different types of spaces for different purposes ā he saw what looked like an office in one, and the corner of a bed in another.
"Do you want a tour?"
She seemed genuinely excited so he nodded.
The tour was a chaotic show-and-tell without any apparent rhyme or reason of all her favorite things in every room, starting with the bookshelves in the sitting room. They were mostly romantasy books, fantasy books and a handful of sci-fi that in Jason's opinion were pure entertainment.
Then, she showed him her bedroom and the very nifty changing ceiling that Jazz explained matched her moods, a fact she admitted with pink cheeks as the ceiling switched from a calm night sky to a familiar cloudy sunset in red and orange tones through what felt oddly like Gotham's permanent smog.
Next was the washing room, which was divided in two ā a normal bathroom with all the amenities, including a shower and a bathtub; and a door that opened to a big roman bath, with what seemed like a cold water pool and a hot water pool, cloudy with plenty of minerals.
"Is one of the indulgences I miss the most about the Keep." Jazz admitted, looking longingly at the waters.
"One of?" He asked, promising himself that they definitely had to take a dip in those pools before coming back home. He hadn't brought any swimming trunks, but he would make do with boxers.
"My armory."
He looked at her. The steam and heat from the thermal pools painted her cheeks pinks and her hair was already sticking to her face. Mesmerized, it took him a second to remember his question. "Like, a personal armory?"
She nodded, sheepishly. "I kind of have a sword collection?" She rubbed the back of her neck. "People keep gifting me swords ā not that I'm against it, I love them all, but it's weird?"
"Didn't Danny say it was offerings to 'appeal to the reasonable one'?"
"I still have no idea what he is talking about."
Jason had seen the tapestries that decorated the main areas of the Keep ā snapshots of Team Phantom doing this or that heroic feat, with plenty of details of the legend itself; and sometimes individual, smaller ones for each of them. He remembered the one from the First Siege, a big tapestry with Jazz front and center in her full armor, a sword in one hand and her War Mode spear raised high in another. He remembered the other art piece with her riding the black horse with red eyes spitting flames from its mouth, face frozen in a war cry as she skewered two enemies with her spear.
He could easily believe she was some kind of war goddess by those portrayals alone. The offerings didn't seem that out of place now.
"Will you show them to me?"
Her smile was big as she excitedly grabbed his hand and pulled him towards one of the closed doors. When she opened it, a huge arena waited for them inside and in the walls Jazz had carefully mounted what seemed to be the infamous collection.
In a corner there was a table with a big pile of uncategorized blades, probably the latest acquisitions while Jazz was in the Mortal Realm.
"How do you organize them?" He approached a wall, finding familiar and unfamiliar types of blades. Definitely some human and some ghostly, both in shape and material.
Jazz approached him and started explaining her meticulous classification, how she kept the ceremonial ones in one wall and the rest of the dull, but pretty, ones in another. Then she explained that the rest were very sharp and which ones she actually used, and which ones she had ordered to be forged herself. She talked so much, and went on multiple tangents about the story of each of them, or about the ghost that forged this or that, or about the humans she had to rescue a blade from.
It was like she never ran out of things to say about her collection, the same as how she always seemed to have a rant or two about a psychological thing or curiosity or misconception prepared under her sleeve.
And he loved it. Every time. He didn't care what kind of face he was making anymore, it was just the two of them in the room.
"Sorry," she said after finishing a story about playing around with a new sword and almost cutting her hand off, "I got carried away."
He grabbed her chin when she looked away. "Don't say sorry," he smoothed her frown with a finger. "I told you. No blood, no fault."
She blinked, her cheeks turning red, probably embarrassed; but by the way she licked her lips he understood it was something else, specially when her eyes fixated on his lips.
With a chuckle, he leaned down to kiss her, smiling into the kiss. He grabbed her by the cheeks, fingers tangling into her long soft hair, humming in approval when she grabbed his shirt to pull him closer.
When they parted she giggled a little and looked away. Even after all this time, she still acted like a schoolgirl when they kissed. He could admit it was adorable.
"Wanna spar?" She grabbed his hand between hers ā she loved touching the rough textures on his skin. She always said it was very relaxing.
"Sure, why not."
They quickly found a sword they felt confident in, shed their jackets and shoes and went to the center of the training area. Jason tried a few twists and thrusts to test the blade, and got into position.
It wasn't the first time they sparred, and not the first either with a sword. Part of her bat-training had been with him, mostly to help her get used to fighting someone bigger in size and how to use that against her opponent. He also threw in some swords since he knew she like them, and it had been very entertaining finding how much she enjoyed and knew her swords.
"First blood?"
He nodded, and the game was on.
Jazz's style was not graceful, and much like her hand-to-hand combat, she fought like she was a creature bigger than she was. It was one of the things he and Damian tried to beat out of her, but it was currently a work in progress.
Her strikes were strong, though, and precise, and she make him work for it every time they clashed. She was faster and had a quicker reaction time as well, which was very refreshing to fight against.
However, Jazz was not as good as utilizing her full arsenal when she fought. It was like she focused too much in one thing or another, and forgot she was able to kick and punch as well while wielding her sword. Jason understood that maybe, just maybe, his way of fighting was a bit unorthodox and quite unfair; but in his defense his methods have kept him alive this long so why question perfection?
In a way she reminded him of a "ye olde knight", and it was in moments like these that he had to accept that she was indeed like she was taken out of one of his books. Castles and knights and Kings and honor ā Jazz had spent the last decade living like that, rewiring her brain into a world like that, the same way he had spend his years becoming what he was. It was a part of her a much as Red Hood was a part of him, and he wouldn't ask her to stop the same way she wouldn't ask him to give up the cape.
He found out, somewhere between a feint and a strike that could have gotten him dead, that he was okay with that. Jazz shined brighter when she had a fight to win, a puzzle to solve, an opponent to defeat.
I couldn't give you normal, even if I tried.
He didn't want normal. He wanted this. He wanted her, like this, focused and making him fight for his life, forever.
He couldn't even get mad when her foot finally landed and she kicked him out of balance, or when she pushed him down and stuck her blade close to his neck. Specially not when she knelt down and placed her weight on his chest, a triumphant smile on her lips.
"I win." She said between heavy breaths.
"You are so beautiful."
He dropped his sword and got his arms around her neck, pulling her into a passionate kiss. She giggled into it, rearranging her limbs so she would be more comfortable. She tasted like sweat and the cookies they stole from the kitchen, and it was perfect.
Jason turned them around so she was under him, stopping for a moment to take in her red cheeks and long flowing red locks like a halo around her face. Her lips were slightly swollen, and her eyes watched him as much as he was watching her. There was something in the teal, though, something calculating ā like she was pondering something she wanted to say.
Between the next few kisses, she finally said it out loud.
"Do youā¦" he heard her sigh when he sucked the skin on her neck maybe a bit harder than necessary. "Do you want to take this to the bedroom?"
Did sheā¦?
He leaned back, searching her face. She was biting her lips, but she didn't seem afraid.
"Only if you are completely sure, darling."
Jazz nodded. "Positive."
He kissed her again and helped her get up from the floor. Then, he indulged a bit and lifted her into his arms, enjoying her giggles as he walked out of the armory.
Her bedroom was already setting up the mood when they got in ā the ceiling offering a deep night sky filled with stars and the Milky Way giving just enough light. Her bed was soft and with the enough bounce to make them laugh when he dropped them on it, the sheets a smooth teal soft to the touch.
Jazz didn't waste time ā she took the initiative while he got distracted with the ever-changing ceiling and pushed him down on the sheets, straddling him in a bold move.
Not that he was complaining, of course.
She started taking of her shirt, so he helped her, preventing her long hair from getting tangled like he did in what seemed so long ago. Back then, he tried to look just enough to gauge if the scars he had seen where suspicious or not; but now he got drunk on the sight of her bare skin within reach, letting his hands caress her down her bra and her stomach, stopping at a burn scar on her side.
"Danny wasn't a great shot either." She commented, probably understanding why his pause.
He hummed, going upwards to another thin scar on her other side, between two ribs. It was aā
"Stabbed," she confirmed. His fingers found a couple more, older ones, near her hipbone. "Those too."
Jason looked back up at her face, watching her watery smile. She probably had never shown anybody all of these scars. Jazz always wore clothes that hid the worst of it, he had noticed, so she probably felt very self conscious about them.
"Beautiful." He said, making a point to keep the eye contact as he leaned forwards to press his lips on the new and freshly healed scar on her shoulder. "Very beautiful."
She tried to chuckle, but he could hear the knot in her throat.
He let his hands roam her back, his fingers taking in every bump from more hidden scars. He would learn where they came from, but not tonight. Tonight, he needed her to know two things: she was the most beautiful woman in every realm, and he couldn't get enough of her.
---
First chapter || << Previous chapter || Next chapter >>
sure heated rivalry has enemies to lovers but interview with the vampire has enemies to lovers to enemies to lovers to enemies to lovers to enemies to lovers to enemies to lovers to enemies to lovers to
First chapter || << Previous chapter || Next chapter >>
---
Jason sighed as he looked at himself in the mirror, one hand immediately going for the taped gauze on his shoulder. He knew what he would find, even if he hadn't seen it himself yet. Between waking up at the Manor, figuring out what happened and a tense conversation with Jazz, he hadn't had a single moment alone to check the physical proof on his body of what Jazz explained happened.
She bit him. If it hadn't been in the worst situation ever, he would have found it hilarious. He would have cracked a joke or two about Jazz being a vampire after all. Maybe even ask her if she would do it again and watch her face become as red as a tomato.
Of course he couldn't even have that. He had been out of his mind and tried to kill her, instead. Just perfect.
The bite itself was okay, halfway healed. He knew he healed faster than average, but since he got a dose of pure ectoplasm he noticed that small cuts and scratches healed the same day; so the bite was already a faint pink scar on his shoulder, and he didn't need to cover it anymore.
He wondered if Jazz's wounds had healed already. He had asked to see the stabbing wound the moment he pieced together the scattered memories, horrified of what he had done, and said sorry enough times that Jazz had to stop him with a kiss.
At least you didn't shoot me. She had said, but it wasn't as comforting as she thought it was. He could have perfectly shot her, he knew. The fact he went for a knife was something short of a miracle.
Because he remembered. Bits and pieces of a screaming argument, where Jazz found the perfect words to hit him where it hurts, and he remembered enough.
It was all temporary, darling. Did you really think I loved you?
It was a fun diversion while I lay low, but you are not boyfriend material after all.
Why would a Princess waste her time playing games?
He knew it really wasn't her, or at least now he knew. He could have ignored her words better if she wasn't actually there and a mere hallucination; but the moment she showed up and he could fight her physically, it was like he couldn't find it in him the will to resist the thought it wasn't real.
He knew he hurt her, deeply, and not just with the knife. Jazz had dismissed his worries and assured him she knew it wasn't really him, that she was familiar with the effects of the fear toxin and understood better than most that he was reacting to something that wasn't true. Somehow, her normal rant about chemical imbalances and psychological effects didn't reassure him as intended.
The following make-up-make-out session did help, he thought with a small smile. If her goal was to distract him then she achieved it, since he was very distracted by her lips and her touch. It was like she knew where to kiss, where to rake her teeth against his skin, to make his heart go into overdrive.
He knew she wasn't into it was much as he did, being somewhere in the asexual spectrum, but apart from a confirmation that she enjoyed making out with him and she would ask him to stop if she wasn't, they hadn't discussed further expectations regarding sex. He knew they were taking it slow, he understood she was the one who should set the pace and he would take any crumb she offered; but even for him, who avoided emotional conversations like the plague, it was getting quite confusing if she wanted to have sex with him or not after all.
Somehow he didn't think she would ever bring it up. Jazz was a master at avoiding talking about the things she really cared about ā Oh, the irony.
With a chuckle, he shook his head and went back to his room. Apparently, he had to start packing for a long weekend.
They were going to the Infinite Realms.
Finally, some answers.
***
Jazz's bike was already rumbling when he met her downstairs at the alley. She had left earlier to check everything was perfectly functional with the motorcycle, specially the portal device. He tried, and apparently failed, given Jazz's small smirk, to not appear too excited about the trip.
"Ready to go?" She smiled up at him, giving him a quick peck on the lips.
"Someone's excited." He commented before she could call him out.
Jazz chuckled, adjusting the small satchel on the side of the bike, where she had the few belongings she'd bring since she said most of her stuff was still at the Keep. "I haven't been back since I moved here. I don't know, it feels like coming home for Christmas break or something."
Funny. Neither of them really had such an experience in their youth. Still, he squeezed her uninjured shoulder and went to place his stuff on the other side.
"Let's go."
Riding behind the smaller body of his girlfriend was always an experience. A part of his brain still expected the vehicle to topple over from being unbalanced, or for Jazz to struggle when doing a turn ā but it was a testament of her strength, and maybe ghostly abilities, how she wasn't affected by the weight distribution and maneuvered the bike like Jason weighted half of what he really did.
"Any tips for the Infinite Realms?" He asked as she got ready to turn on the portal. "Do I need to hold my breath?"
Jazz hummed, smiling over her shoulder, and it was the hottest thing he had ever seen. "I'd recommend closing your eyes for the first few times. Jumping dimensions can be a bit too much to the senses."
She clicked a button on the handle and a portal manifested right in front of them on the wall at the back of the side alley. It was Lazarus Pit green, with a solid line where the rip between dimensions happened, stretching matter apart; and a swirling green vortex glowing in the middle. If he didn't know what it was, and he wasn't with the company he was with, he was man enough to recognize it would creep him out.
Jazz revved the bike's engine, kicked the stand and launched them right into the middle of the vortex.
He didn't listen to her warnings, and of course it was the worst trip he had ever gone through. It was like being on different types of drugs at once ā feeling his body squished and stretched at the same time, watching swirling green lights take over everything, feeling air that was warm, cold and viscous at the same time. The only thing keeping him grounded was Jazz between his arms and the rumbling of the engine between his thighs.
And Jazz's laugh, once she looked back and saw the face he was making.
"Told you so."
He shook his head, trying to chase away the bad sensory input, and focused on what he could see now that they were safely on the other side of the portal.
Everything was green. And, well, Infinite.
It didn't matter where he looked, there was a vast expanse of green floating pieces of land against a different shade of green sky. Even the land they were riding on was floating, with an equally vast drop on either side of the narrow piece of road they were on.
"Hold on tight!" She screamed over the rumbling engine.
He did what asked without question, and she revved the engine so they moved faster, probably faster than what was safe to be. Soon he understood why as the road ended abruptly and they jumped over the edge.
But they weren't falling. They were flying.
Why did Jazz move to Gotham, when this was way cooler? It was almost like floating in space, except the way Jazz moved the bike was purposely and practiced, like she could find some invisible gravitational string to keep them moving forward.
She dipped them downwards, falling and turning this and that way following a route he couldn't see, before pulling them back up. He was half tempted to react like he was in a rollercoaster.
After a few minutes of this, they arrived at this mysterious Keep he kept hearing about. It wasn't there and it was like she took a turn and a whole castle materialized out of thin air ā complete with a main building, gardens and secondary buildings around it.
It was big, the biggest piece of land he had seen in the Infinite Reals so far, and he could see the attempts to make it more home and less creepy evil Skeletor castle from Masters of the Universe. Definitely a Fortress more than a pleasure home, the Keep was taken out straight from a medieval drama TV show.
"Home, sweet home." Jazz said, pulling up towards a side entrance he didn't notice at first, ignoring the giant gates with spikes at the front.
It was a repurposed stables, he assumed, by how it was where all their vehicles were parked. He recognized what he assumed was Danny's bike ā a carbon copy of Jazz's except colored white and ectoplasm green instead of teal and black ā some kind of submarine-slash-spaceship and finally a whole ass Egyptian style carriage, sans horses.
Huh. He had to be okay with weirder and weirder thing the more they spend here, he supposed.
***
After unpacking and given a brief tour of the castle, they were feeling snackish so they set course for the kitchens.
So far they were fairly uninterrupted, but the Keep was full of people waking around ā servants, scholars, guards and various staff. There were also some random ghosts he wasn't able to discern what or who exactly they were, but they were as formal with Jazz as the rest, giving a nod or salute or curtsy with a brief "Your Highness" that he wasn't used to no matter how many times he heard it.
However, the ghost that stood now in front of them was out of the norm.
"Oh hey, you are real after all." The ghost, some kind of nineties rejected rock star, leaned in. "And a real hot piece of ass, too." She added, pushing down her sunglasses so she could see Jason better. Sunglasses weren't exactly needed in the Infinite Realms, so there were definitely for aesthetic reasons.
"Hello, Ember." Jazz didn't acknowledge her comment. "Good to see you too."
"Girl, you should tell me where you found this one. I may go on vacation topside myself."
He noticed Jazz flinch a little, but only because he knew where to look.
"Jason," he said, extending a hand for her to shake.
She seemed amused. "I know who you are, princeling," she grabbed his hand and pulled with surprisingly a lot of strength, "ghosts looove gossip, and the Ice Queen landing such a hunk is the hottest thing since Box Ghost and Lunch Lady got married."
"Ice Queen?" Jazz murmured under her breath.
The ghost, Ember, arched her body into his, her flaming ponytail flickering too close to his skin. "If you are looking for third I don't mind sharing. The Crown Princess has been on my bucket list for a while." She winked and jumped back, just in time to avoid one of Jazz's deadly kicks.
"Ember, behave."
She purred. "This is me behaving, girliepop." She adjusted her sunglasses once again and turned around to leave. "By the way, Fright Knight has been sulking for ages. You have to do something about it, woman." She huffed. "If I have to hear one more sonnet about his broken heart I'm going to slip back to old ways and won't regret it."
Without further comment, the ghostly woman walked around the corner and disappeared. Jazz grumbled something under her breath, grabbed his wrist and pulled back to their initial route to the kitchens.
"Soā¦ Ice Queen?" He tried.
"I have no idea what's that about. Not like we have any say in the ridiculous epithets people use for us."
"Us?"
"Team Phantom." She shook her head. "We don't do it for the glory, but every damn time there's a new ridiculous name or title or epithet."
"Like the Red Demon?"
Jazz shuddered. "Remind me to make a pit stop at the Ghost Writer's lair and beat that name out of him."
"Jazz? Is that you?"
Both stopped at an opened door, where a metallic repetitive noise was coming from. They peeked in, finding a pale, dark haired woman sitting on the floor surrounded by blades of different shapes and sizes, and a full set of sharpening and polishing tools in her hands.
Next to her, on a wooden desk, a dark skinned young man adjusted his glasses, eyes blinking slowly as he recovered from looking at the gigantic monitors of an impressive set up that rivaled Oracle's back at the Clocktower. Jason could almost recognize some kind of coding program, but it wasn't anything he knew, and the characters weren't in a language he could discern. It tickled his brain, almost as if he was supposed to understand, just like when he tried to read the Ballad of the Red Demon back at the Manor.
"It is you!" The man jumped from the desk, quickly approaching the pair. He hugged Jazz deeply, like he really had missed her. "Dude! It's been ages!"
"You must be Tucker."
The young man froze at being addressed, turning slowly towards Jason. He squinted, took off his glasses and cleaned them, and put them back on again.
"Holy shit, you are real!"
"Have you been hallucinating again, Tuck?" The unknown young woman said. From context, Jason assumed that was Sam.
"Yes, and the rumors were true!"
"You dont believe Danny?"
"You know he tends to, uh, embellish the truth a little."
Jazz giggled, Sam rolled her eyes. Jason had to agree, given what he had experienced with the young King.
He wondered what else he said, and if he would be recognized like this everywhere in the Ghost Realm. If there was one thing about dying he enjoyed it was the anonymity. It would be quite ironic he wouldn't have that in the land of the dead.
***
"And this is my room!" Jazz excitedly opened a door. "Is bigger on the inside!"
Indeed that was ā It was gigantic. Bigger than all his safe houses combined, maybe the size of an entire floor of the Wayne Manor.
First thing they encountered was a sitting room of some kind, with a couple bookshelves and a reading nook next to a window. It somewhat reminded him of her apartment in Gotham, simple and utilitarian, focused on comfort and usefulness than opulence or big shows of money. She didn't have a TV here either, but he wasn't sure there was cable in the Infinite Realms, so he couldn't determine if it was a Jazz thing or a ghost thing.
Around the sitting room were a series of doors, some opened and some closed, where he could see different types of spaces for different purposes ā he saw what looked like an office in one, and the corner of a bed in another.
"Do you want a tour?"
She seemed genuinely excited so he nodded.
The tour was a chaotic show-and-tell without any apparent rhyme or reason of all her favorite things in every room, starting with the bookshelves in the sitting room. They were mostly romantasy books, fantasy books and a handful of sci-fi that in Jason's opinion were pure entertainment.
Then, she showed him her bedroom and the very nifty changing ceiling that Jazz explained matched her moods, a fact she admitted with pink cheeks as the ceiling switched from a calm night sky to a familiar cloudy sunset in red and orange tones through what felt oddly like Gotham's permanent smog.
Next was the washing room, which was divided in two ā a normal bathroom with all the amenities, including a shower and a bathtub; and a door that opened to a big roman bath, with what seemed like a cold water pool and a hot water pool, cloudy with plenty of minerals.
"Is one of the indulgences I miss the most about the Keep." Jazz admitted, looking longingly at the waters.
"One of?" He asked, promising himself that they definitely had to take a dip in those pools before coming back home. He hadn't brought any swimming trunks, but he would make do with boxers.
"My armory."
He looked at her. The steam and heat from the thermal pools painted her cheeks pinks and her hair was already sticking to her face. Mesmerized, it took him a second to remember his question. "Like, a personal armory?"
She nodded, sheepishly. "I kind of have a sword collection?" She rubbed the back of her neck. "People keep gifting me swords ā not that I'm against it, I love them all, but it's weird?"
"Didn't Danny say it was offerings to 'appeal to the reasonable one'?"
"I still have no idea what he is talking about."
Jason had seen the tapestries that decorated the main areas of the Keep ā snapshots of Team Phantom doing this or that heroic feat, with plenty of details of the legend itself; and sometimes individual, smaller ones for each of them. He remembered the one from the First Siege, a big tapestry with Jazz front and center in her full armor, a sword in one hand and her War Mode spear raised high in another. He remembered the other art piece with her riding the black horse with red eyes spitting flames from its mouth, face frozen in a war cry as she skewered two enemies with her spear.
He could easily believe she was some kind of war goddess by those portrayals alone. The offerings didn't seem that out of place now.
"Will you show them to me?"
Her smile was big as she excitedly grabbed his hand and pulled him towards one of the closed doors. When she opened it, a huge arena waited for them inside and in the walls Jazz had carefully mounted what seemed to be the infamous collection.
In a corner there was a table with a big pile of uncategorized blades, probably the latest acquisitions while Jazz was in the Mortal Realm.
"How do you organize them?" He approached a wall, finding familiar and unfamiliar types of blades. Definitely some human and some ghostly, both in shape and material.
Jazz approached him and started explaining her meticulous classification, how she kept the ceremonial ones in one wall and the rest of the dull, but pretty, ones in another. Then she explained that the rest were very sharp and which ones she actually used, and which ones she had ordered to be forged herself. She talked so much, and went on multiple tangents about the story of each of them, or about the ghost that forged this or that, or about the humans she had to rescue a blade from.
It was like she never ran out of things to say about her collection, the same as how she always seemed to have a rant or two about a psychological thing or curiosity or misconception prepared under her sleeve.
And he loved it. Every time. He didn't care what kind of face he was making anymore, it was just the two of them in the room.
"Sorry," she said after finishing a story about playing around with a new sword and almost cutting her hand off, "I got carried away."
He grabbed her chin when she looked away. "Don't say sorry," he smoothed her frown with a finger. "I told you. No blood, no fault."
She blinked, her cheeks turning red, probably embarrassed; but by the way she licked her lips he understood it was something else, specially when her eyes fixated on his lips.
With a chuckle, he leaned down to kiss her, smiling into the kiss. He grabbed her by the cheeks, fingers tangling into her long soft hair, humming in approval when she grabbed his shirt to pull him closer.
When they parted she giggled a little and looked away. Even after all this time, she still acted like a schoolgirl when they kissed. He could admit it was adorable.
"Wanna spar?" She grabbed his hand between hers ā she loved touching the rough textures on his skin. She always said it was very relaxing.
"Sure, why not."
They quickly found a sword they felt confident in, shed their jackets and shoes and went to the center of the training area. Jason tried a few twists and thrusts to test the blade, and got into position.
It wasn't the first time they sparred, and not the first either with a sword. Part of her bat-training had been with him, mostly to help her get used to fighting someone bigger in size and how to use that against her opponent. He also threw in some swords since he knew she like them, and it had been very entertaining finding how much she enjoyed and knew her swords.
"First blood?"
He nodded, and the game was on.
Jazz's style was not graceful, and much like her hand-to-hand combat, she fought like she was a creature bigger than she was. It was one of the things he and Damian tried to beat out of her, but it was currently a work in progress.
Her strikes were strong, though, and precise, and she make him work for it every time they clashed. She was faster and had a quicker reaction time as well, which was very refreshing to fight against.
However, Jazz was not as good as utilizing her full arsenal when she fought. It was like she focused too much in one thing or another, and forgot she was able to kick and punch as well while wielding her sword. Jason understood that maybe, just maybe, his way of fighting was a bit unorthodox and quite unfair; but in his defense his methods have kept him alive this long so why question perfection?
In a way she reminded him of a "ye olde knight", and it was in moments like these that he had to accept that she was indeed like she was taken out of one of his books. Castles and knights and Kings and honor ā Jazz had spent the last decade living like that, rewiring her brain into a world like that, the same way he had spend his years becoming what he was. It was a part of her a much as Red Hood was a part of him, and he wouldn't ask her to stop the same way she wouldn't ask him to give up the cape.
He found out, somewhere between a feint and a strike that could have gotten him dead, that he was okay with that. Jazz shined brighter when she had a fight to win, a puzzle to solve, an opponent to defeat.
I couldn't give you normal, even if I tried.
He didn't want normal. He wanted this. He wanted her, like this, focused and making him fight for his life, forever.
He couldn't even get mad when her foot finally landed and she kicked him out of balance, or when she pushed him down and stuck her blade close to his neck. Specially not when she knelt down and placed her weight on his chest, a triumphant smile on her lips.
"I win." She said between heavy breaths.
"You are so beautiful."
He dropped his sword and got his arms around her neck, pulling her into a passionate kiss. She giggled into it, rearranging her limbs so she would be more comfortable. She tasted like sweat and the cookies they stole from the kitchen, and it was perfect.
Jason turned them around so she was under him, stopping for a moment to take in her red cheeks and long flowing red locks like a halo around her face. Her lips were slightly swollen, and her eyes watched him as much as he was watching her. There was something in the teal, though, something calculating ā like she was pondering something she wanted to say.
Between the next few kisses, she finally said it out loud.
"Do youā¦" he heard her sigh when he sucked the skin on her neck maybe a bit harder than necessary. "Do you want to take this to the bedroom?"
Did sheā¦?
He leaned back, searching her face. She was biting her lips, but she didn't seem afraid.
"Only if you are completely sure, darling."
Jazz nodded. "Positive."
He kissed her again and helped her get up from the floor. Then, he indulged a bit and lifted her into his arms, enjoying her giggles as he walked out of the armory.
Her bedroom was already setting up the mood when they got in ā the ceiling offering a deep night sky filled with stars and the Milky Way giving just enough light. Her bed was soft and with the enough bounce to make them laugh when he dropped them on it, the sheets a smooth teal soft to the touch.
Jazz didn't waste time ā she took the initiative while he got distracted with the ever-changing ceiling and pushed him down on the sheets, straddling him in a bold move.
Not that he was complaining, of course.
She started taking of her shirt, so he helped her, preventing her long hair from getting tangled like he did in what seemed so long ago. Back then, he tried to look just enough to gauge if the scars he had seen where suspicious or not; but now he got drunk on the sight of her bare skin within reach, letting his hands caress her down her bra and her stomach, stopping at a burn scar on her side.
"Danny wasn't a great shot either." She commented, probably understanding why his pause.
He hummed, going upwards to another thin scar on her other side, between two ribs. It was aā
"Stabbed," she confirmed. His fingers found a couple more, older ones, near her hipbone. "Those too."
Jason looked back up at her face, watching her watery smile. She probably had never shown anybody all of these scars. Jazz always wore clothes that hid the worst of it, he had noticed, so she probably felt very self conscious about them.
"Beautiful." He said, making a point to keep the eye contact as he leaned forwards to press his lips on the new and freshly healed scar on her shoulder. "Very beautiful."
She tried to chuckle, but he could hear the knot in her throat.
He let his hands roam her back, his fingers taking in every bump from more hidden scars. He would learn where they came from, but not tonight. Tonight, he needed her to know two things: she was the most beautiful woman in every realm, and he couldn't get enough of her.
---
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I love your "they ring the same bells for weddings and funerals" tag bc I work as a bell-ringer at one of the few churches in my city where you still have to ring the bell manually. and we do ring the same bell whether it's a wedding or a funeral! but āļø we also ring it if the local sports team wins at sports (the secret third thing that is neither a wedding nor a funeral)
the three universal human experiences: love, death, and sports
canon is what happens in the text. e.g. merlin tries to poison morgana
a headcanon is a fact that you have personally made up as an elaboration of canon. it is your invention. e.g. i think morgana and gwen had a teenage lesbian situationship before the events of canon. or, i think modern morgana would love evanesence.
an interpretation is how one reads the existing text. it is not an invented fact nor is it a headcanon, it is a reading. e.g. i think merlin tries to poison morgana out of misplaced self-hatred. or, i think that one line was delivered with suppressed malice and shows a nuanced relationship.
fanon is the general fandomās accepted headcanons and interpretations that elaborate or recontextualize canon. e.g. merlin is a badass waif and morgana is a bitch.
these are all different words with different meanings.
Please save and share this info where possible. This report has since been removed by Amnesty International due to legal threats of libel from JK Rowling. This information is no longer easily accessible.
Made this post about 15 minutes after the repair guy who fixed the pump on my dishwasher packed up his tools and left, as the dishwasher was whirring along doing my dishes from that morning.
He said the exact same thing, which I did not know before that, so spreading this knowledge.
it applies if your dishwasher water is connected to the sink. If it has it's own water supply then neither this advice NOR "don't use the sink while the dishwasher is on" apply.
How to check? With your eyeballs. Open the kitchen cabinet under the sink and see if there's a tube taking water from the sink to the dishwasher. If you do, then yeah. If there is nothing then dishwasher has its own water intake.
