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guilty-pleasures21 · 3 months

Note

Jason Todd submissive? Please I'm obsessed 😭🙏🏼 (I don't speak English, sorry Google translator JAKSKAKSKK)

— 🐏

Ahh! My first request! I tried my best based on what I understood of the assignment and I really hope you like it 😅!

Also, I speak French, a little bit of Spanish, Mandarin (though it's been ages! 🫠) and Punjabi, so don't worry about having to translate these if it's easier for you! Although I'm only comfortable writing in English, so I hope this is still all right!

Also, also, I know most writers on this site write in Y/N format, so you guys can just let me know if you prefer that format or 3rd person and I can change it accordingly.

Interrogation practise

I feel like Jason wouldn't let you try to dominate him, so you'd just have to try to trick him into it 😉.

Part 1 - the interrogation

Part 2 - the revenge

Part 3 - the roleplay

Warnings: bondage, explicit description of sex including blowjob (m receiving) and penetration (p in v).

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She gave the knot a final tug, then looked up at him. “Is this okay?”

“That’s perfect, baby,” Jason assured her, shifting in position to get himself more comfortable. She stood up and moved to stand in front of him. She’d asked him to help her practise her interrogation techniques - she was always too soft when it came to questioning criminals and she wanted to learn how she could improve on her weaknesses. She’d tried asking some of the others before - Bruce, Cass, Dick - but they were all either too impatient or too violent for her tastes. And even though her boyfriend could be … a little hot-headed at times, he was always gentle when it came to her, helping her use her own unique talents to better improve her crime-fighting style.

“Okay, so, how should I start?” X asked him. Jason let his gaze trail over her body, his eyes lingering a little too long on her tanned and tone legs, bare beneath her little shorts. He dragged his gaze back up to hers, trying not to think about how very helpless he was right now, tied up to this chair in front of his pretty little girlfriend, just waiting to torture him. He shook the thought away.

“So, you want to start gentle,” he coached her patiently. “People are already scared of the big old Bat, right? So you want to convince them that it’s better for them to talk to you instead.” She nodded in understanding.

“Okay, so … What should I be trying to get out of you in this situation? Give me a storyline.” He smirked, amused by how seriously she was taking the situation. She was so cute, his sweet little girlfriend.

“Hmm … Maybe you could be trying to find out where the Riddler’s hideout is?” Jason suggested. “I could pretend to be one of his goons.”

“Okay,” she agreed. She cleared her throat, taking a moment to get into character, then raised her head again, clasping her hands behind her back and strolling over to him. “Look. You and I both know things are going to get a lot more … unpleasant when my boss gets here. So, why don’t we help each other out?”

She placed her hands on the back of his chair, bending over so that her lips were just a breath apart from his. “You tell me where the Riddler’s hiding and I’ll make sure the Batman goes easy on you.”

Jason’s lips curled at the ends as he appraised her and he raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Oh, sweetheart. You’re going to have to do a lot better than that to convince me.”

“Hmm,” X considered, her dark eyes trailing down his face and landing on his lips. “What would you like me to do for you, Mr Todd?”

F*ck. This was a bad idea. Why had he agreed to this? Oh, right: because she’d given him that pretty little look of innocence that drove him mad whenever he saw it, her dark and curly eyelashes fluttering up at him, her full and rosy lips twisted down in a pout. But shit, they’d barely started and he was already regretting his decision. He should have made them do it the other way around instead; he should have tied her up to his bed while he ‘demonstrated’ the proper technique to her. She dragged a finger down his chest, her eyes following the path she made along his hard muscles.

“What would it take …” she slid her legs on top of his, settling herself in his lap, “... for you to tell me where the Riddler is hiding?” She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned forward, her breath tickling his ear as she murmured into it.

“Hmm? 'Sweetheart'?” His head fell back with pleasure as she chuckled at her own words before nipping playfully at his ear.

“Ah, f*ck!” Jason shifted in position, struggling against his binds so he could free his hands and run them all over her deliciously bare thighs. God, she was hot. X straightened and moved one hand to cup his face, her lips so close to his, but still so painfully far.

“Why won’t you tell me, Jace?” she whined, pouting at him pleadingly. Then her lips twisted into a grin and she dragged her thumb across his lip before beginning her mouth to his. “You know what I’ll do for you if you do.”

He leaned forward, meaning to kiss her, to close the distance between them and lick up the sweet taste of her. But she pulled away again and he growled in response. “X!”

X giggled and stood up, curling her fingers around his shoulder and moving to stand behind him.

“This is an interrogation, Jason,” she reminded him, bending over and sliding her hands down his chest appreciatively. He was so hot, her big and strong boyfriend. “You’ll get what you want when I say you get it.” She nipped at his ear again and he sighed, wriggling his legs to try to free his ankles from their binds. She pressed her lips to his neck, the soft moans escaping from her throat driving him crazy as she made her way down to his shoulder.

“Mmm, Jason,” she mumbled, her voice low and seductive in his ear. She straightened, her hands returning to his shoulders as she stood over him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to maintain his self-control - and his control over the situation he’d landed himself in.

“Princess,” he called to her, his tone sweet, lazy - like he was the one still in charge. “Why don’t you untie me and we’ll see what we can work out?” She pursed her lips, pretending to think about it as she moved to stand in front of him again.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” she admitted, grabbing his shoulders again and bending over him, her dark hair falling forward to frame her sweet face. “I’m having much more fun trying to work things out like this.”

Her eyes fell to his chest, to the sharp lines of his muscles pressing against the soft fabric of his shirt as he sat there, hands bound behind his back as he looked up at her. “It’s too bad you still have your clothes on though - we could have had so much more fun if you’d taken them off first.”

He sighed and let out another curse as she shot him a wicked smile. Then he watched as she turned around and went over to the kitchen, grabbing a knife before making her way back over to him. His heart started picking up its pace in his chest and he couldn’t decide whether he was terrified or thrilled by the idea of what she was about to do next. “Princess.”

She ignored him as she walked back over to him, her steps slow and precise. Then she grabbed the collar of his shirt and traced her knife over the soft fabric before slicing it down the centre. She stood back and licked her lips at the sight of his bare chest, setting her knife aside before climbing back on top of his lap.

“Mmm, Mr Todd!” she chuckled, running her hands down his chest and leaning forward to bring her lips to his ear. “Looks like the Riddler’s got his men working on an extensive exercise routine.” She curled her fingers around the waistband of his pants, wriggling back a little to give her hands more room, and he felt his body start to heat up in anticipation.

“Does he have a gym? At this secret hideout of his?” She traced her fingers over the outline of his cock, already starting to harden in his sweatpants, and let out another little laugh. “Maybe you could take me there sometime. How about that?” She nibbled on his neck as she slid her hand into his underwear and wrapped her fingers around his cock, sliding them up and down teasingly.

“F*ck,” Jason groaned, his head falling forward at the sensation. X pulled back to look at him, brushing her thumb across his bottom lip.

“What’s wrong, Mr Todd?” she asked him, delighted to finally have the upper hand over him. “Still not convincing enough for you?” She lowered her lips to his, but continued to dodge his attempts to kiss her, chuckling when he groaned in frustration. Then she leaned forward to pull his lip between hers and sucked on it before letting him go again.

“Ah, shit!” Jason exclaimed, his breaths getting heavier as he started to become more aroused. He let out a choked gasp as she brushed her thumb over his tip and began circling it gently. “X. Don’t … Stop it, sweetheart.”

“You want me to stop?” She shook her head at the thought, lips still curled into that devious smile. “Don’t you remember what I said, Jace?”

She brought her face back to his, smirking at him in the way he’d always smirk at her when he was teasing her, pushing her to the very limits as he played with and pleasured her. “I’m in charge tonight.”

His head fell back against the seat as she continued twirling her slender fingers around his cock. He should never have agreed to this; he should have known the moment she’d asked him to help her out, that mischievous glint sparkling in her eyes as she'd gazed up at him. Had she planned this all along? Had she wanted to tie him up just so she’d be able to dominate him for a change? Dominate him in the way he’d always dominate her? X frowned, feigning confusion as she looked down at the frustrated crease between his brows.

“You’re feeling a little dry, Jace,” she informed him, removing her hand from around his c*ck and pushing herself off of him. He swallowed hard as she lowered herself to her knees and pulled his pants down, licking her lips hungrily at the sight of his cock exposed before her. “Let’s see what we can do about that, hmm?”

“X, don’t … This isn’t how an interrogation works, sweetheart,” he informed her, trying to keep his tone gentle so she wouldn’t be tempted to challenge him. She glanced up at him quickly, then fixed her gaze back on his cock, her eyes lighting up with delight.

“Hmm?” she mumbled, reaching forward to grab hold of his dick. “I’m just trying to use my strengths, Jay. Like you always tell me to do?” She turned her face up to his, grinning at the feeling of his cock throbbing in her hand. Then she leaned forward and dragged her tongue across his tip, licking him up slowly. He bit down on his tongue, trying to stop a groan from falling out at the sensation. He could do this: he’d been in much, much worse situations before and he hadn’t cracked then. There was no way he was going to give her the pleasure - the satisfaction - of knowing that she was the only one capable of breaking the unbreakable Jason Todd. No way in hell was he going to let her have this! But then she wound her tongue around his shaft, closing her mouth around him and letting out a low moan that danced along his skin. F*ck. He pressed his lips together, barely muffling the groan that managed to escape his throat.

“X, don’t … don’t …” he panted heavily, struggling against his binds as she continued sucking his cock, her pretty little mouth taking him in so nicely. She pulled her head back slowly, dragging him out of her mouth, then lowered her lips to his balls, her fingers continuing to work on his tip as she suckled on him gently.

“Don’t what, Mr Todd? Are you not enjoying this?” She licked one of his balls, curling her tongue around it before pulling it into her mouth to suck on it.

He was definitely not enjoying this - not at all! He was the one who was supposed to be dominating her; throwing her around and teasing her until she was begging him for relief, her perfect little breasts bouncing up and down as he brought her to the edge of her pleasure and back down again. He never hurt her, of course - never forced into anything she wasn’t comfortable with. But it was just one of the only times he finally felt in control of something in his life and he was f*cked if she found out how so very aroused he was right now.

She chuckled, knowing exactly how much he was enjoying it - and exactly how much he was hating the fact. She’d wanted to try it, just once, but she knew her boyfriend would never have agreed to something like this, proud as he could be. So, she’d devised this clever plan, playing into his ego to make him think that she was just so innocent and so desperate for his help. She pulled his dick back into her mouth, moaning against his tip when it hit the back of her throat before letting him go again. Then she stood up.

“Okay. You’ve had your fun,” Jason relented, the muscles in his shoulders flexing deliciously as he pulled against his binds again. “Now untie me, X.” She rearranged her features into that innocent expression that drove him crazy every time she used it on him.

“But you still haven’t told me where the Riddler’s hideout is,” she pointed out, eyes wide as she waited for his response. He huffed in irritation, his chest heaving up and down as he glared at her. He looked so hot like this, jaw clenched in anger, strands of his dark hair falling into his mossy eyes. There was no way she was going to let him go so easily - not until she was completely done having her fun! He kept his mouth shut and she shrugged. “If that’s how you want to play.”

X started taking her clothes off, taking her sweet time removing each piece of clothing and dropping them into his lap. She smirked when she saw his Adam’s apple bob up and down and her eyes fell back down to his cock, the tip glistening now with the prec*m starting to leak out of it. She slid her hands up her abdomen and squeezed her breasts when she reached them, her body entirely bare before him now.

“What’s wrong, Jay? Are you gonna come all over my clothes?” She blinked at him sweetly, feigning innocence before bending over to murmur in his ear. “Why would you do that when my pretty little p*ssy is already waiting for you to fill it up?”

He let out a choked gasp at her words. “F*ck!”

She straightened and giggled at the thunderous expression on his face, his thick brows crashing together over his darkened eyes. Then she flicked her hair over her shoulder and straddled him again, wriggling her body against his as she ground her hips into his slowly.

“F*****ck,” he groaned into her neck, his dick so painfully hard for her. “Shit, baby. Faster. I need you. Now.” She twisted her fingers into his hair and pulled his head back, forcing him to look up at her again.

“You just don’t listen, do you, Jason?” She flicked her tongue out, licking his lips before giggling and tugging on the skin of his neck with her teeth. “We should do something about that.” She slid her hands down his hard chest, pressing quick kisses down his neck before licking a stripe back up to his ear.

“Shit, baby. Anything. I’ll do anything you want me to.” He began thrusting his hips against hers, desperate for relief. “You want me to tell you where the Riddler’s hideout is? I’ll tell you. Gotham … museum … or whatever.” Had they agreed on a location? He couldn’t remember. And he didn’t really care, either way - all he needed was her, her tight little p*ssy clenching around his dick, her warm and wet walls squeezing him tight as he unloaded himself inside of her. She giggled as she bounced up and down on his lap, clearly delighted by how desperate he was for her. Then she took hold of his chin, tilting his face up to hers so she could look him in the eyes.

“Really? You’re not just lying to me so I’ll give you what you want?” Jason shook his head quickly, doing his best to focus on what she was saying. But f*ck, she felt good, her p*ssy already dripping for him as she waited for him to fill her up.

“No!” he reassured her. “I promise. I … Shit. Please, X. Please, sweetheart, I’ll … F*****ck.” His head fell forward as she stopped her movements, his dick pulsing and throbbing with desire. Then finally, she reached down to take hold of his cock, sliding it through her already drenched folds in preparation. He suck in a breath at the feeling of her warm and sticky c*m, then let out a grunt as she started easing him inside of her, his hips thrusting into hers as his body begged him for relief.

“Slow down, Jay!” she laughed. “You wanted to hold out against me, right? You didn’t want to give me what I wanted?” She grabbed his hair again and pulled his head back so he was forced to look up at her, at the wicked curl of her lips.

“And I asked you so nicely, too!” she continued, letting go of him and lowering her lips to his. “Should I wait? Should I just stop and wait for the Batman to come and deal with you?”

“F*ck, no! Don’t … Shit.” She wouldn’t actually stop, would she? Not when he was already halfway inside of her? “I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you anything you want to know, baby. Please, just …”

He lowered his head to her shoulder, brushing his lips along her neck and murmuring against her skin. “Come on, sweetheart. Please? I’ll give you anything you want, baby.”

“Hmm, anything?” she asked him, her body tingling at the low rumble of his voice, at the way his thick cock filled her up so very nicely. She held his head in her hands, guiding his mouth to her breast as she ground herself into him, her p*ssy pulling him deeper inside of her with every roll of her hips. She shivered as he closed his lips around her nipple, dragging his tongue around it and suckling on it in just the way he knew she liked. “Mmm, shit, Jay.”

She moaned at the way he licked and sucked on her breasts, his cock brushing up against her walls every time she moved. She slid her fingers into his hair and tugged on the strands, pulling his head back again to see that dazed look on his face again. Her nipples tingled at the way his eyes had glazed over from pleasure, his pupils so wide now that the beautiful green of his irises had disappeared almost entirely. She giggled at the sight, then pressed her lips to his, moaning into his mouth as she kissed him deeply. He raised his hips to thrust himself into her repeatedly, his dick hitting that one spot that had her curling over in ecstasy. And then she hit her breaking point, her body shuddering and shaking against him as she came. She gripped onto his shoulders, trying to maintain her balance as her p*ssy pulsed around his dick, clenching it tight and begging for him to fill her up. His hips stuttered as his c*m gushed into her, the warm and sticky liquid shooting into her vagina and leaking back out again. X whimpered at the feeling, curling herself around him and burying her face in his neck as he unloaded himself inside of her. Then finally, he leaned back against his seat, the tension leaving his body as he finally got his release.

“We … are never doing that again,” Jason panted warningly, his green eyes boring into her as she straightened. His eyes fell to her breasts as she tried to catch her breath, the beautiful mounds glistening with sweat just waiting for him to lick away.

“In that case … I guess I’d better take advantage … of right now,” she joked, delighting in the way his dick was still buried inside of her. Jason growled, baring his teeth at her in a snarl.

“X. Untie me - right now,” he demanded, not playing around anymore. X sighed and got up off of him, her body protesting at the sudden emptiness inside of her. She knelt down to undo the ties around his ankles, then moved to take care of the one binding his wrists together. He jumped up as soon as he was free, shrugging his shirt and pants off before grabbing her and lifting her up in his arms.

“Just you wait, sweetheart,” he growled in her ear, carrying her over to his bedroom. “It’s my turn now: and I don’t care if it takes me the entire night to get what I want from you.”

#jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood smut #red hood fanfiction #red hood

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jpeg-dot-jpeg · 7 months

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😈

5 and... jaytimkon??? (For the drabble prompts)

Jpeg fr the things I would do for a jaytimkon from you akfjslajdlaja

-@bi-bats

I haven't drabbled much into jaytimkon territory, but i'll do it for you, beloved <];)

"So how long have you two been married?"

It comes out of Jason's mouth as a joke. Or, at least, he means it as a joke. He expects a scoff or an eyeroll or maybe a besotted smile. He isn't quite sure what to do with the startled look Kon gives him.

"What?" the guy asks, stupidly thick lashes fluttering in abashment. His cheeks go pink and Jason gets the sense he's resisting the urge to fan his face like a scandalized genteel woman.

Jason nods his head towards the door that Tim had just left through after walking in, saying, "Do you-" and promptly getting handed exactly what he needed from Kon without having to specify what it was. It isn't the first time it's happened since the two of them have set up shop at the little basement coffee station - separate, of course, from Tim's regular coffee station up in his living area - waiting for Tim to work his genius.

It's kind of magical the way they operate on the same wavelength - finishing each other's sentences, knowing what the other needs, vollying inside jokes back and forth too fast for Jason to even pretend to keep up. It makes some kind of longing crawl up in his throat. So he teases instead of saying Can I get in on that? Instead of saying Stop doing that before I start uncontrollably sobbing. Instead of saying Who do I have to kill to get me a bitch like that?

Kon stutters out, "We're not- that's- why would you-"

"Oh my god, breathe," Jason orders, taking pity on him. "I was messing with you. I just meant that you two practically share a brain. It's kinda freaky. But also...kinda cool."

Kon looked down and shrugged. "Just known each other a long time. Lotta missions, lotta near-death experiences. Watching Santa get blown up together probably had something to do with it."

"You- what?"

"It's whatever." Kon waves a dismissive hand through the air. "We're close, but - I dunno. You bats have something else entirely going on. I'm sure you understand him better than I do."

"Oh, come on," he can't help but protest. "Just 'cause we're both bats doesn't mean we have some kinda psychic connection. If we could communicate the way the two of you do, we'd all beat each other up a lot less."

"No, seriously," Kon insists, face open and imploring in a way that makes Jason want to cover him with a blanket so no one else can catch him like that. "Sometimes I think he's the alien, but then I hear how he talks about you, the way all of you guys work together, and it's- it's a little cult-y, but it's also really cool? Like you guys have a secret language. Plus, it doesn't hurt that he's been obsessed with you for, like, ever, so there's kind of that hero worship thing going on, and you're actually smart enough to keep up with the stuff he talks about and-"

There's something in Kon's voice that tickles the back of his brain, something between He talks about me? and 'Batclan Cult Allegations.' It sounds stretched thin and bittersweet and tense. The pieces fall together faster than he can relegate them.

"Wait a minute," he interupts. "Are you jealous? Of me?"

The idea is bizarre, absurd, unthinkable. It makes a little bird flutter around in his stomach, but he isn't sure whether that has more to do with the lovely, mysterious creature in the next room over or the goregous, good-natured creature in front of him.

Kon shrugs again, refusing to meet Jason's gaze. "Who wouldn't be?"

A warmth surges in his gut, rushing to his palms in a way that makes him want to reach out and share the heat. He puts several years of laborious therapy to use and decides to take a chance.

"And here I was, all green with envy over watching the two of you together."

And once those ethereal blue eyes lock onto his, Jason can't look away.

"Maybe if we put our heads together," he continues, hoping Kon can hear all the things he isn't saying as well, "We can parse out what the hell Tim is talking about all the time, 'cause I don't have a fuckin' clue."

The laughter that earns him sounds like bells. And when Tim walks in and asks, "What's so funny?" the two of them share a knowing look, something just between them.

#JayTimKon #TimKon #JayTim #JayKon #ask #ask answered #ask game #ficlet #Bi-bats my beloved

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bitimdrake · 1 year

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pssssst hey quick question on the dl - who is helena bartinelli??

i cannot answer anon questions on the dl, so answer on the up-high, which she deserves:

HUNTRESS

a.k.a. Helena Bertinelli, a.k.a. Gotham's coolest and most notable antihero, crossbow-wielder, and purple bat-associated vigilante.

Helena was born to an Italian mob family, but spent her childhood blissfully unaware of the family business--until her entire family was slaughtered in front of her when she was eight. She stayed with family overseas for the rest of her childhood, learning how to fight and protect herself.

She came back to Gotham for both vengeance and justice, and became one of Gotham's many vigilantes. Though her focus is on the mob, she'll step in to stop any crime.

She's also a schoolteacher! Good for her.

She is discerning in who she chooses to kill, but she does kill. As you can imagine, this put her at odds with Batman for a long time. Helena is pretty much the premiere example of Bruce trying to claim control over every vigilante in Gotham, no matter how little right he has. The argument on killing/ethics is valid, but his default was basically "do exactly what I say and fall in line under my command, or stop completely," which is why he's an asshole control freak and why I'm constantly mad about how she was treated 👍

She was an absolute mainstay of the Batfamily before Flashpoint (2011) and it is personally hurtful to me that people don't know her. (Like, to be frank? She had far more of a presence than Damian or (living) Jason in the post-crisis era.)

You could count on seeing her in any major Batfamily crossover, from Cataclysm to Battle for the Cowl.

She was central to the biggest Batfamily crossover ever, No Man's Land, where Gotham was locked off from the rest of the country and turned into a lawless wasteland. Bruce left to sulk for the first couple of months and in absence of any other vigilantes in the field (only Oracle having remained in the city), Helena donned the mantle of the Bat for herself to protect the city. And when Batman came back, in return for all she'd done, she got...yelled at, assigned impossible tasks and criticized for not achieving them, her costume stolen and given to someone else, lied to, abandoned in the face of impossible odds, and shot multiple times protecting kids. Absolute fucking hero, honestly.

She also was on the Justice League for a while, though admittedly I have barely touched that run. To my understanding, despite nominating her for the position, Bruce was also the one to revoke her membership there.

Fortunately! things improved!!

In the early/mid 2000s, Helena joined the Birds of Prey, Oracle's team, and found legit friendships and support there with teammates like Dinah Lance/Black Canary. She finally got more respect in the community, and had a much better time.

Additional relationships include:

A big sister/annoying little brother type thing with Tim, who may disapprove of her killing but simply likes making friends too much :)

A great relationship with Vic Sage/the Question

One single issue where she met Steph that presented SUCH interesting potential that I desperately wish had been followed up on

On and off romantic/sexual tension with Dick, depending on the writer, which culminated in a single hook up that apparently most people around here would rather pretend didn't happen, though I really don't think it's that bad

A complicated relationship with Barbara, partially due to clashing personalities and conflicting morals (with Babs being nearly as much of a control freak as Bruce), and partially due to a shared history with Dick because DC loves making women be catty

Surely others from her first solo or time on the JLA that I don't know well enough to list!

She's rad and determined and takes no shit but cares a lot, and I love her. We deserve more stories tying her teaching day job into her night work. We also deserve more stories with her in general.

If you would like additional Helena beyond just cruising my tag, I recommend:

Batman/Huntress: Cry for Blood - far more Huntress than Batman, this is a great 6-issue miniseries about Helena reckoning with her past, ft the Question.

Batman: No Man's Land - if you have the time for it, a big storyline but worth it.

Birds of Prey vol 1 (1999) - Helena starts to appear around issue #57 and becomes a central character from there.

#*#ask #anon #*dc #dc #dc ref #helena bertinelli #huntress #batfam #batman #10to2

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stolen-breath · 2 years

Text

:: ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ :: ᴊᴀsᴏɴ ᴛᴏᴅᴅ × ʏ/ɴ

: sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ :: ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ᴊᴀsᴏɴ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴊᴏʙ, ʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴇ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ

:: ᴛᴡs :: ᴍɪʟᴅ sᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ, ᴀɴɢsᴛ

:: ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ :: 2389

:: ʀᴇᴏ̨ᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ :: ɴᴏ

:: sғᴡ | ɴsғᴡ ::

ᴍᴀSᴛᴇƦʟꞮSᴛ

:: ɢɪғ ʙʏ ᴅᴀɪʟʏᴊᴀsᴏɴᴛᴏᴅᴅ,, ɢᴏ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ sᴏᴍᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ!! ::

JASON

He never approved of your job at Ace Chemicals. Of course he never said that, not to you. He celebrated your promotion with you, ordered take-out on nights when he couldn't be there, listened to you rant even though he couldn't understand a word. But he hated that you worked at the same place that created the most heinous of Gotham's rogue gallery, that you were a single OSHA violation from becoming the Joker's genderbent double.

You didn't know that. Why would you? It happened years ago, and Ace never broadcast that little trivia. It would ruin their PR, bring unwanted attention that could come with a nasty price tag. Only Batman and his allies knew that – and the Joker, obviously. And probably Harley. Maybe a few of the other villains… Okay fine, a lot of people knew, but you weren't one of them, and he couldn't exactly break that news without inviting several new and awkward questions. So he never told you, never asked you to quit, just helped you and supported you while the nagging worries in the back of his mind stayed exactly there.

Now he sprints through the factory, kicking himself with every step. He should have forced you to quit. He should have told you everything, even if it meant revealing the truth about his night job.

Why had he been hesitant in the first place? Fear for your safety? Maybe. You were a pretty tough cookie. You used to joke that you were the tough one in the relationship, and part of him believed it. Maybe he'd kept the secret out of loyalty to Batman. Back then, it made sense. He would have killed for the man if it came to that.

Back then, he thought Bruce would do the same for him.

Jason grinds his teeth together until every heavy footstep jars his jaw. Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. He should’ve known Scarecrow would pull some shit like this. It was just fucking like him. You were an insurance policy, the prize for remaining loyal to him. “Once I understood your greatest fear, controlling you was simple.” That was the crap he spewed to every person that stood up to him. Every ally that he suspected would betray him. This was all a game to him, the world’s trickiest game of chess, a test to his superiority. At his core, he was no better than the Joker.

He thought he could control Jason by risking your safety – and he was right. If anything happened to you, his brittle sanity would shatter like glass.

But nothing is going to happen to you. Jason only had to hold one guy’s hand in sulfuric acid to find out where Scarecrow’s keeping you, and he is going to get to you. Fuck Scarecrow’s plan to break the Bat. It can wait.

The door may be locked, but that’s not going to stop the walking arsenal. Jason slaps an explosive on the metal door and ducks around the corner to shield himself from the explosion. His armor is top of the line, meant to outdo even Lucius Fox’s finest work, but he’s not going to take stupid risks like that. That was the old him. That was Robin. The Arkham Knight is calculated, and the Arkham Knight isn’t going to facetank C4. (Even though, let’s face it, he could probably walk through the explosion like an action movie badass. Can he glue sunglasses to his helmet? A thought for later.)

It isn’t hard to find you. The only hiding place here is a table large enough to fit at least three people underneath it. He ignores your panicked shrieks as he drags you out of your hiding place and slings you over his shoulder as easily as if you’re an empty sack.

“Put me –”

“Shut up. I’m saving you.” He hates talking to you like this. Hates having to pretend he’s just a soldier doing his job and not your heroic boyfriend. Hates that you’re beating your fists against his shoulder plates instead of sighing ‘my hero!’ and swooning in his arms. More than anything, he longs to rip his helmet off and show you who he is, show you he’s alive and he’s fine and you’re going to be okay, it’s safe now, he’s here – but there isn’t time. The annoying pleasant automated voice over the intercom announces that an explosion is imminent. He has to get you out.

His helicopter is still on the pad. Even from here, he can see the terror etched on his soldier’s faces as they gesture frantically for him to hurry. “I can only go so fast goddammit,” he grumbles under his breath – not that he really had to lower his voice. The whup-whup-whup of the spinning blades are so loud that he could probably yell and no-one would hear him. Still, it feels good to mutter protests like he did when he worked with the Bat.

…no. Not with. For. It never was a partnership – it was always Big Daddy Bat and pitiful little Robin clinging to his cape.

He seethes with frustration as he shoves you into his lieutenant’s arms. The man is just helping you onto the helicopter so he can focus on getting in himself. It’s a time-saver. But he hates the idea of someone else touching you, even like this. He is the one saving you. This isn’t a joint operation. This isn’t Strike Team Alpha or some shit. This is the Arkham Knight, blazing through a burning factory to pluck you from the arms of Death itself.

Well, when he recounts the story later, he’s not mentioning any of these guys. Screw them.

With a single button press, he tunes his helmet’s radio to the frequency of the chopper and shouts instructions to the pilot. The lieutenant wraps a blanket around your shoulders, helping you get comfortable in the cramped and jerking confines as the helicopter rises into the air far faster than it should. He stands up front like he always does, but he half-turns to keep you in the corner of his eye at all times. Let them get fresh with you – it’s a quick way to find out what it’s like to get thrown out of a helicopter. An exclusive offer. Not many people get to say they’ve done that.

“Drop us off there.” He points to the roof of the Doyle building, a tall building that once held crumbling gargoyles and steeples taller than most churches. Thanks to the Gotham council’s brilliant decision making, they had been torn down as part of the renovation project. It is now sleek, shining, filled with windows and fluorescent lights and commercial comfort, but it is still your place. Deep in its foundation lay the memories of the two of you laying on it, watching where the stars would be if not for the smog and light pollution of the city, snacking on greasy street food and arguing which villain could actually kill Superman if they had to.

He can’t think of a better place to ruin all the plans he’d crafted so carefully since his escape.

The helicopter doesn’t land – it isn’t safe, not anymore, this building is made of fiberglass and corporate dreams. Jason drags you to your feet as gently as he can and helps you hop off the hovering, wobbling chopper. He lands beside you as easily as jumping off a curb and waves them away, tossing a few orders through the radio for good measure. Give him a few minutes, at least. He needs this almost as much as he needs to kill Batman – actually, no. He needs it more.

YOU

He doesn’t turn to face you right away. You take a step back and eye him suspiciously, squinting against the dust and dirt spitting up in the vortex of the chopper’s wind. It flies away, heading deeper into the city, and you two stand alone. When he seems to be ignoring you for the time being (never mind that he’s clenching his fists at his sides like a man trying not to punch a hole in the wall), you risk looking away from him at the city. Your city. Even from here, you can see the smoke plumes wafting up from various fires, the eerie orange chemicals drifting into the sky from Ace Chemicals (where you would be if he hadn’t dragged you out, a thought that sends chills down your already icy back). The only cars driving around below you are militarized tanks and armored vehicles, all bearing the insignia of the man standing before you.

The city’s being invaded – that much is clear. This random soldier that you’ve never heard of paired up with the Rogue’s Gallery to take over Gotham and intends to burn it all down. At least he was willing to evacuate the civilians first – you don’t like to give credit to bad people, but you have to hand it to him. Very few villains would even notice the innocent people they trample in their rampages. That alone makes this guy stand out.

Why did he save you? For that matter, how did he know you were there? All the records were meant to show that you’d evacuated with everyone else, just like the other workers that were forced to stay behind to help manufacture Scarecrow’s new toxin. You didn’t know what happened to the others. They came for all of you, one by one, over the course of the night. You’d heard screaming just a few minutes before this guy blew up the door (he blew up a door, what kind of maniac was he) and dragged you out of the factory literally kicking and screaming. You had assumed it was your turn to find out how Scarecrow was dealing with his assets now that he no longer had a use for you.

You assumed it was your turn to die.

“Thank you.” The words are reluctant, forced out between chattering teeth. It’s awfully cold for the end of October – it tends to get pretty cold in Gotham, but this is ridiculous. Still, voicing your gratitude is the least you can do. This villain – because he is a villain, you know he’s here to kill the Bat, you know he’s willing to kill his way through Gotham to do it – went out of his way to drag you from the factory moments before it exploded. Hell, he even had his guys give you a blanket. He didn’t have to do any of that. He went out of his way to do it. The least you could give him, the only thing you can give him, is a thanks.

He dismisses your thanks with a wave. “Don’t worry about it. Couldn’t leave you there. Not your fault Scarecrow left his marbles in the Asylum.” There’s something about the way he talks that’s oddly and eerily familiar, even through the metallic distortion of his helmet’s voice modulator. It’s comforting, yet horrifying. You rack your brain, throwing names and faces at the imagined wall to see what sticks, but nothing works. You have no idea who this guy is, but he’s so…familiar.

“Yeah.” You pull the blanket tighter around you as a gust of wind finds its way through the gaps. Once again, your gaze drifts over Gotham. A chilling scream fills the air, then fades into the various sounds of the city. Your thoughts burn with questions demanding answers. You shouldn’t ask them. A bright light, dimmed through distance, flashes over the two of you. It gleams against his sidearm, a gun that you couldn’t name if you tried but immediately makes you pause. You don’t have to wonder if it’s loaded.

But you can’t stop yourself. “Did you leave yours there too?”

He glances over his shoulder. His helmet is as blank as a sheet of paper, yet somehow you can almost imagine an expression of surprise and delighted disbelief. “If only you knew.” There’s longing in that voice, as if he genuinely wishes you did know. But you’re imagining that, almost certainly.

“Why?” The word slips out before you can stop it. “You’re a killer. You’re here to kill Batman and burn Gotham to the ground and you’re working with Scarecrow of all fucking people – but you evacuated the city first. You saved me. I don’t get it.”

He laughs, a short bitter bark that makes your skin crawl. “I’m a killer, yeah, but I don’t kill innocent people. The civilians don’t need to get wrapped up in this war. Besides, I’m doing it for them. If they’re all dead, there’s no point, y’know?”

Hearing such casual language coming from a robot head atop a soldier’s stiff body is so weird. Did you die in Ace Chemicals? Is this your afterlife? “You think killing Batman is good for Gotham? He’s saving this city.”

“No. He’s not.” The quiet fury that edges his voice forces you back a step. His fists clench at his sides – you imagine that his knuckles gleam like moonlight under his gloves. "Batman is a glorified man in a mask who martyrs himself nightly for a crusade that his own misguided morals prevent him from ever completing."

You almost laugh at the bitter words, at the painful memory they dredge up. “You almost sound like someone I used to know. He had a pretty big grudge against the Bat too.”

“Who doesn’t?” He lets out a soft huff, reaching up to adjust his helmet. His fingers linger on the clasps that connect it to his armor, as if he’s tempted for a moment to take it off. You can’t stop the surge of excitement that rushes through you. Will you, and you alone, know the identity of the Arkham Knight?

But he doesn’t remove his helmet. He simply pulls a grappling hook from his belt, just like the one that Jason used to have. “Stay here,” he orders with a single glance over his shoulder, the screened helmet rendering his expression unreadable. “Someone will be along to get you to safety soon. I have work to do.”

“Thank you for saving me,” you call as he shoots the hook at a construction crane and disappears into the smog of night.

Just like Jason used to.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd headcanon #jason todd x y/n #arkham knight #arkhamverse jason todd #arkham knight x reader #arkham knight x y/n #arkham knight x you

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vikingpoteto · 1 year

Text

I posted 5,590 times in 2022

That's 1,075 more posts than 2021!

70 posts created (1%)

5,520 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@basilsbestpainting

@kumikoumae

@spelviin

@cari28ch3-me

@six-feet-underneath

I tagged 3,064 of my posts in 2022

Only 45% of my posts had no tags

#dbz - 280 posts

#jason todd - 237 posts

#spy x family - 234 posts

#red hood - 131 posts

#toh - 124 posts

#tiger and bunny - 120 posts

#stephanie brown - 91 posts

#howls moving castle - 90 posts

#jon kent - 87 posts

#poison ivy - 80 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#i have adhd okay if you start describing something withflowery words i will get distracted and two paragraphs later i forget what was happen

My Top Posts in 2022:

98 notes - Posted May 25, 2022

I know we joke a lot about Bucky and Sam being gay on a boat while the other Avengers break the universe but where were the other Avengers when they randomly announced a new Captain America

103 notes - Posted February 20, 2022

1: Consider this me asking about your platonic ships 👀

2: Thank you for the rock 😌

2. I'm glad you appreciate it.

1. LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT JASON & STEPH AKA DISASTER TWINS as opposed to Dick and Donna's Wonder Twins

So this little Robin starts as a street kid. Their father is a criminal, their mother struggles with addiction and they have to grow up way too fast. They try to do good in any way they can but unfortunately they die by the hands of a sadistic criminal that torture them brutally before their death. They get better. Am I talking about Jason or Steph? TRICK QUESTION IT'S BOTH.

Cue Under the Red Hood. Jason is coming back and he has this whole thing planned. It's gonna be theatrical and dramatic and he hears that another Robin just died. Well, it looks like Mr. Black Mask specifically has a target on his back, doesn't he?

More years later. Steph is back as Batgirl. We pretend we do not see most of Jason's shit after UTRH. They finally meet. They bond over the fact that they're the only batfam members that can cook and know how much a banana costs. (No, Bruce, it's not ten dollars.) They're both sarcastic and quippy and dramatic and they get on like a house on fire. Steph likes to sit on his shoulders (she likes to be tall) and he gets fiercely protective of his new little sister.

(Eventually, Steph doesn't know why, but she tells him about her pregnancy. And Jason, who canonically hugged Sheyla Haywood and commented on how hard it must've been for HER to abandon him, simply pets her hair and says that he can't even imagine how strong Steph is for making that decision for her child's sake.)

(Steph wants to resent him, because back when she was Robin, Bruce couldn't handle her because she reminded him too much of Jason in ways Tim never did. But she finds out she can't. She knows how he feels like the family "outcast" and she wants to be a bridge for him. She wants to make Cass understand that Jason isn't bad even if Cass despises him. She finds that she has more in common with him than with the rest of the bats after all.)

They joke that they're the Robins that went wrong (if you joke about something enough it must stop hurting, right?) and, if Nightwing and Troia are Wonder Boy and Wonder Girl, Jason and Steph are Disaster Boy and Disaster Girl. Disaster twins. Jason points out he's at least two years older. Steph argues that that can't be true because he was dead for six months, so he's a year older tops. Cue long hours of pointless bickering over technicalities.

Crystal Brown fully adopts Jason. She invites him over for dinner as often as she does Steph (and it serves as a bittersweet reminder of what Catherine Todd could've been if she recovered but it also feels like home) and she gets so excited when she hears that Jason would've loved to go to med school (with a minor in Literature, of course.)

Steph tries to convince Jason to come public that he's alive and go to college with her. They'll talk shit about their classmates and show them trustfund babies what real top notch students are like.

They like the same musicals and they listen to Broadway soundtracks when they're together. They changed their patrol schedules to run into each other more often and chill while they're doing a stakeout.

Eventually, they have to go to the Batcave for one reason or another. There are painful memories. They stick together, reminding one another that they're not the odd one out, they're not alone this time. They never have to be anymore.

110 notes - Posted April 4, 2022

art by jupiterwave_, inspired by my fic for @vioislit

674 notes - Posted April 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

hear me out: Dick Grayson is deadly allergic to kiwis. One time, (Robin) Jason wanted to sneak out and asked Dick to provide a distraction. Without asking a single question, Dick promptly looked Bruce and Alfred in the eye and took a bite of an unpeeled kiwi.

4,485 notes - Posted August 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #thanks tumblr #so maybe i was going through some shit

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hintofelation99 · 3 years

Text

The Justice League Hangs out with Duke

Bruce: Duke, it's time we had the talk.

Duke: Uh... nope. No thank you. I'm not getting the sex talk from Batman.

Bruce: What? No! The Robin talk.

Duke: But, I'm- I'm the Signal now? Isn't it a bit late for a Robin talk?

Bruce: Son, it's never too late, not for this.

Duke: Um. Ok.

Bruce: When Dick, Jason, and Tim first started as Robins they created a tradition. A tradition that continued with Stephanie, Damian, and now you.

Duke: And that tradition is?

Bruce: Taking down the Justice League. By being annoying and slightly terrifying.

Duke: OHHHHHH. Is that why no one from the Justice League talks to me?

Bruce: Yes, yes it is. But don't worry. I made an arrangement that will allow you time alone with league members to continue the tradition. You have a week to prepare.

——————

Duke: Cass, what do I do?

Cass raises an eyebrow at Duke.

Duke: For the Robin tradition thing. I have to take down the entire Justice League in a night using creative, outlandish, and original methods. But it's already been done by Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, and Steph. So what do I do? How can I be better than all of them.

Cass smirks: Take them down too.

Duke looking at Cass like she's crazy: What?

Cass: Take. Them. Down.

Duke: Holy shit, you are terrifying.

Cass just smiles and leaves.

-> One Week Later <-

Wonder Woman, Superman, Flash, Aquaman, Green Lantern, Black Canary, Martian Manhunter, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, and Steph gather in the Watchtower.

Duke: Hey guys, Batman just wanted to go through some training exercises with everyone. He'll be a little late. Harley and Ivy escaped Arkham and are trying to grow penis shaped shrubs in all the public parks. But, don't worry he asked me to go ahead and start with out him.

Green Lantern: Why are you leading this meeting?

Duke: Batman is running late and he wants me to practice leading meetings.

Green Lantern, glaring suspiciously at Duke: Are you about to do that stupid Robin tradition where you torture all of us?

Duke: What Robin tradition? Also, I'm not even a Robin? I'm the Signal.

Green Lantern continues to glare at him.

Superman: Calm down Green Lantern, the Robins never do this in front of each other.

Every League member seems to relax at this.

Duke acting confused: Uhhh, yeah. Ok, we have a few housekeeping things to do according to the list Batman left. So, I'll have everyone pair up for sparring while I handle these individually.

------

Everyone is in the training room working out or sparring. Duke approaches Tim.

Duke: Hey Tim, Bruce wanted you to look in to that Bludhaven case. Is that ok with you?

Tim: Yeah, why wouldn't it be?

Duke: Oh, I just thought it might be difficult considering what Dick did.

Tim: ...What did he do?

Duke: Wait, you haven't noticed? Oh no, I'm sorry I shouldn't have said anything.

Tim: Duke. Tell me what he did.

Duke: Well, Jason said that he replaced all your coffee with decaf.

Tim: THAT BASTARD. No wonder I've been feeling so tired! I'm going to kill him!

Duke: Wait, just stop! I heard that he hid all of it in Green Lantern's room.

Tim: Wait, why there?

Duke: Something about you being afraid of him.

Tim: WHAT?! I'm not afraid of the Green Nightlight! I'm gonna find that coffee then make Dick pay.

Duke: Oh, well cool, good luck!

------

Green Lantern: Um, what are you doing in my room?

Tim: Where is it?

Green Lantern: Where's what?

Tim: You know what I want. Give up now or face the consequences.

Green Lantern: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

Tim: Fine. Consequences.

------

Steph, sparring with Duke: So, what's it like being the first meta bat?

Duke: Not too bad, but I could do with out the whole 'predict the future' thing.

Steph, laughing: What? You can not see the future.

Duke: I bet you $50 I can

Steph: Your on.

Duke, makes everything around him light up and uses a weird voice: In the next thirty minutes Green Lantern will flee the Watchtower in fear. Soon after Dick will be attacked by Tim.

Steph, snorts in obvious disbelief.

Steph: That was so fake-

Green Lantern runs out of the tower looking terrified.

Steph: No way.

Tim tackles Dick and they start fighting like three year old's on the floor.

Steph, handing Duke $50: Holy shit Magic Man.

Duke makes things light up and does the voice again: Oh my god.

Steph, looking excited: What?!

Duke: The- the sushi. The sushi you brought today, it's made from-

Duke pretends to choke back a sob.

Duke: It's made from the fish who was the maid of honor at Aquaman's wedding.

Steph: HOLY SHIT.

------

Steph and Aquaman sit beside each other for lunch, she pulls out her sushi and looks at Aquaman sadly.

Steph: I am so, so sorry for your loss. But just know that her sacrifice is not in vain.

Aquaman, looks confused for a second then sees the sushi: NOPE. Not this again! I'm leaving.

Steph: Wait! I'm sorry!

Aquaman leaves as Steph tries to chase him down.

------

Jason is laughing and filming as Dick and Tim fight.

Duke, whistles: Man, imagine if that video went on YouTube.

Jason, looking confused: What?

Duke: I'm just saying if the video of Red Robin and Nightwing fighting like kids ever got on YouTube, it'd go viral. Oh and they would be so pissed!

Jason, laughs: Too bad B would kill me if I uploaded this.

Duke: Yeah, I guess so. And you can't upload it here because then Superman would get in trouble.

Jason: Why would the boy scout get in trouble?

Duke: Cause he always uses his YouTube account on the Justice League computer. So it'd look like he uploaded it and B would find out that Superman watches cat videos while he's on monitor duty.

Jason, smirking: Huh, so you're saying if I upload this on the League computer I'd piss off Bruce, Tim, and Dick and get Supes in trouble?

Duke, acting innocent: Huh, I guess so.

-> A Few Minutes Later <-

A call from Bruce comes up on the main computer.

Superman: Hey Batman, what can I do for you?

Bruce: You, Red Hood, cave now.

Jason: What? Why me?

Bruce: Because I saw that little home video you uploaded of your brothers.

Jason: What, that wasn't me!

Bruce: I could hear you laughing while you filmed.

Jason: Dammit.

Jason and Clark leave for the cave pouting like kids.

------

Duke: Hey, Black Canary?

Black Canary: Yes Duke?

Duke: I'm sorry to do this on such short notice, but I'm very worried about Dick and Tim.

Black Canary: Why?

Duke: Well, Tim keeps claiming that Dick is out to get him. Something about Dick messing with his coffee? And Dick feels like he's just being attacked for no reason and is worried about Tim's health. Is there anyway you could intervene?

Black Canary, looking sighing and looking exhausted: Usually I have three days of preparation before dealing with bats.

Duke: I know it's just-

Duke gestures to Tim and Dick rolling on the floor fighting.

Duke: They really need help.

Black Canary: Alright, I'll see what I can do.

Black Canary attempts to intervene only to get pulled into the fight. Now the three of them are tangled in a huge, confusing fight, that's filled with yelling and hair pulling.

------

Duke: Damian! Quick!

Damian: What is it Thomas.

Duke: I think somethings wrong with Dick and Tim and maybe even Black Canary. They're all fighting and won't stop! Can you help me contain them so that we can figure out what's going on?

Damian: Fine. I shall help.

Duke: Ok, just try to herd them into this containment cell.

Damian joins the fight managing to get everyone, including himself, into the containment cell. As Damian is trying to leave Duke closes the cell. Damian angrily yells and bangs on the sound proof walls.

Duke: What? Sorry, can't hear you! My hand slipped!

------

Wonder Woman: Very well done Signal.

Duke, acting innocent: Hm?

Wonder Woman: You tricked Red Robin into scaring Green Lantern away, then into fighting Nightwing. Once that fight broke out you tricked Red Hood into uploading a video to the internet using the Superman's credentials. By uploading that video he caused both himself and Superman to face Batman's wrath. You also used the fight to trick Stephanie into annoying Aquaman to the point of leaving. Then you involved Black Canary in the fight, which was her downfall. And, as a final touch, you managed to get Robin into the fight and trapped all in a containment cell. You successfully eliminated 9 foes with one trick.

Duke: You mean 11.

Wonder Woman: What?

Duke: 11. You see, I didn't trick Red Robin, I tricked Nightwing. I had a week to prepare. In that week I convinced Dick that Tim needed to cut back on the caffeine and that Dick should help by switching all of Tim's coffee with decaf. I also convinced him to hide that coffee in the watchtower, in Green Lantern's room. So that was all true.

Wonder Woman: But, that still does not make 11?

Duke: It does. Because This morning I moved the coffee. I replaced the Flashes decaf with Tim's ultra caffeinated coffee. You see Tim has it specially manufactured to increase the caffeine levels. And, while Flash doesn't usually drink his coffee in the morning, he's always running late and forgets, he does drink coffee during training breaks. Which is now. So in about five minutes we will have an incredibly caffeinated speedster in the Watchtower. And since you're the only one around right now with a chance of catching him, that's your problem.

Right as Duke finishes Flash runs by, majorly hyped up on caffeine.

Duke: Checkmate.

------

Martian Manhunter: It appears that I am the last remaining League member.

Duke: Yeah, I don't really understand this tradition but apparently every Robin ends it by picking a favorite league member.

Martian Manhunter: Out of all the League members, why have you chosen me?

Duke: Your smart and have a lot of cool powers. Also, I dunno, I hear you sometimes feel like an outsider with the league. Cause, the whole martian thing. And I know it's not the same but, sometimes I feel like an outsider with the bats, being the only meta and all.

Martian Manhunter: You have chosen me so that we may bond over our lack of connections?

Duke: Uhhhh, yeah?

Martian Manhunter: Hm. Very well, I assume that this is your “Robin Weakness”. Apparently every Robin has one.

---------------------------------------------------

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stxleslyds · 3 years

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Also, the writers' failure to understand, every crime Jason committed had a motive. Attack other criminals? Holy warrior destined to purify the world of evil. Attack Bruce? Joker's still alive. (Oh, Jason, it's much worse than that.) Attack Tim? A parody of what he once was. He wasn't just a "bad boy". He was dangerously insane.

Hi, Anon! Yup, there seems to be a lot of things that writers have gotten confused about Jason Todd/Red Hood and the biggest one is his motivations to kill certain criminals.

Let’s be honest, Judd Winick set a golden path for the upcoming Red Hood writers. But each and every writer that used Red Hood in their stories completely missed the point of Jason’s character. All of them. It’s so incredibly wild to me that every other writer read UtRH and came up with whichever version of Jason they came up with.

Let’s list the writers that completely missed the point.

Geoff Johns in Teen Titans vol.3 #29.

Geoff Johns was one of the first to completely mischaracterize Jason, why on earth would Jason go to the Titans Tower to beat up Tim? This is not me saying that Jason would never do that because Jason thinks of Tim as his brother or a friend or the person that he can trust the most from the Bat-Clan (can you believe Lobdell tried to sell us that one?), this is me saying that Jason wouldn’t have done that because he couldn’t have given less of a fuck about Tim’s existence.

When Jason found out that Bruce had another Robin he wasn’t bothered by his “replacement” he was mad at Bruce for having another child playing hero after he lost his life as a fifteen-year-old. Jason didn’t even think of Tim as his replacement as fandom likes to make us believe, Jason called Tim “pretender”. And that was that, but to go from minimal recognition to go out of his way to beat him up at Titans Tower is a massive mischaracterization.

Paul Dini in Countdown (to Final Crisis).

Paul Dini in Countdown did absolutely nothing with Jason, I am sorry but that’s all he did. Him writing Jason was like watching a dog trying to catch their own tail. He started with a pretty basic take on UtRH Jason, then he added a bit of Jason being an annoying man with Donna, then we had the jealousy arc because apparently, Jason had the hots for Donna but she didn’t want anything to do with him and he was all angsty when she paid attention to Kyle instead of him, and then, later on, he had that whole Red Robin bullshit (I am sorry about this, but I absolutely hated that, it was so dumb, I am so glad it didn’t last long because it was just too bad), and after all that mix of just not interesting stuff he went right back to the Jason that he had at the very start. It was a waste of time, but I guess that he had to be there because he was an anomaly and all that. I just think that was DC’s first try at making Jason Todd/Red Hood something more than just a street-level vigilante and they failed miserably.

Tony S. Daniel in Batman: Battle for the Cowl.

Even though the first two did make mistakes with Jason’s characterizations, this man was the first to just throw UtRH out of the window and make up his very own version of Jason Todd. And his version was horrendous, that Jason had no problem with attempting to kill children and innocent people, he also really wanted to be Batman because Gotham needed a Batman and he wanted to be the person to wear the Cowl and he was looking for a Robin for himself.

I know, the whole concept is the perfect opposite of what Jason Todd and Red Hood were in UtRH. Every aspect of BftC Jason is based on nothing.

Jason wanting to be Batman because Gotham needed Batman is just the beginning of what’s wrong in this book. Jason became the Red Hood (in part) because he believed that Batman and his ways weren’t what Gotham needed so he made a better version of Batman with Red Hood (according to him) because Red Hood did what Batman refused to do. Another thing that is just wrong is Jason wanting, Damian, Tim or Dick to be his Robin, there is just so much wrong with this, first of all, Jason wanted Batman to stop having Robin because child soldiers ran the risk of dying at a very young age and that’s exactly how he saw the whole thing because that was what had happened to him. Second, if Jason was mad at Bruce for getting another Robin why would he now want one of his own to team up with his Batman? Damian was a child, Tim was someone that apparently Jason hated (because Jason beating Tim was mentioned in this event), and then Jason actually asked Dick Grayson, Nightwing, to be his Robin? Listen, there is no way that was Jason, nothing about him makes sense, even taking into account that Jason had beaten Tim already in this event Jason actually tried to kill both Tim and Damian (it might have been just one of them but yeah, it still doesn’t make sense).

I just don’t think that Tony S. Daniel knew who Jason Todd was, maybe he got confused but the thing is, his “villainous” and deranged version of Jason Todd allowed a villainous and deranged version of Red Hood to happen with the next writer that I will be talking about.

Grant Morrison in Batman and Robin vol.1 #3-6.

This was the birth of the villainous, deranged and bloodthirsty Red Hood. There is absolutely no trace of UtRH Jason here, not even if we are looking at the opposite of things like we could do with Daniel’s Jason. Grant Morrison wanted Dick and Damian to have a villain to match their Batman and Robin and they decided to give us a red-haired-pill-headed-red hood. Everything from Morrison’s characterization of Jason is crazy, from the red hair (hello pre-crisis) to the awful Joker’s Red Hood looking suit, everything was just weird.

I still don’t believe that was Jason, to be honest, I would rather think that version of Jason was actually a rouge Skrull that came all the way from the Marvel Universe and lost his way in Gotham City. Maybe when he made the jump between universes, he got too much information and got confused and took the form of the wonkiest Jason Todd he could come up with.

This Jason was absolutely deranged, he knew exactly what he was doing and he didn’t care if innocents died. This Jason was the one that got locked up in Arkham. This is the Jason that Dick put in Arkham for Jason and everybody else’s safety.

Dick putting that Jason in Arkham wasn’t a bad thing or something that anyone can use to shit on Dick Grayson (not on this house). This Arkham was reformed and that Jason knew that if he stayed in that new Arkham he would stay away from trouble, but here is the thing, that Jason loved trouble, so he took all the tests to prove he wasn’t insane and asked to be transferred to Blackgate (where all the Red Hood’s enemies were). That Jason didn’t ask to be sent to Blackgate because the Joker was a cell away from his in Arkham, he did it so he could go on a killing spree in Blackgate (which he did when he got there).

Skrull Jason was just bloodthirsty and nothing like UtRH Jason, he had no motive other than just killing for fun or whatever. He didn’t want to protect Gotham and he couldn’t have cared less about the drug trade in Gotham. In Batman and Robin vol.1. Jason Todd was unrecognizable. And luckily, we never saw him again.

Scott Lobdell in Everything that he ever wrote about Red Hood.

This one is pretty self-explanatory. Lobdell was the king of overpowering Jason, he was the one that drove Red Hood farther and farther away from his street-level vigilante status. He continuously added more to him, he was a big deal because he was meant to take down Ra’s al Ghul, he was a big deal because he was the only human to train in the All-Castle and learned to summon the All-Blades.

This Red Hood’s morals and ideals were kind of gone, there just wasn’t any kind of interest in Jason to get rid of drugs or try to control its trade in Gotham, he just had no interest in street-level threats, everything was extraordinary in both New 52 and Rebirth. If he wasn’t in space he was in some mystical land. His friends and allies became even more and more powerful, his level of power was completely off compared to the others. His personality was ever-changing and quite honestly you could barely see the Jason that he once was.

This Jason also was very inconsistent in the way that he felt towards people (obviously because Lobdell is a shitty writer), he wanted to follow Batman’s rules and was shown as someone that still had fond memories of his life with Bruce before he died but was also willing to let those memories go, to move on? Maybe? I don’t know. But he changed his mind about Bruce and following his rules or not for a very long time. Jason was also a little bitch about Dick, and he was a little bitch because he (Lobdell) never gave the reader or anyone a concrete reason as to why he hated him so much and then in Rebirth he decided that Dick wasn’t that bad. Also, Jason went from “Willis Todd, abusive husband and father that deserved to die” to “Willis Todd abusive husband and father but he sent me letters when he was in prison and Penguin had him killed so now, I really want to avenge him”. Yeah, I don’t really know why that happened and like most of Lobdell’s arcs and stuff it was never really completed or well thought out.

Lobdell’s Jason characterization was a mess for ten years and that’s the prime reason why Jason is a character with no solid background, story or future.

James Tynion IV in Red Hood and the Outlaws.

Tynion’s Jason Todd was a hero, he was like a mini Tom King Batman. Everything he did was right and there was just no way that you could bamboozle him. This Jason was able to hold to Blades that drained his soul as well as hosting the Untitled in his body (that were able to drain his soul too) and on top of all that he completed his journey of the Chosen One by making those ancient martial arts moves that he learned before he was Robin even though Talia hadn’t been able to master it yet.

Scott Snyder, Tim Seeley in Batman Eternal and Batman and Robin Eternal.

A mess, this was pure New 52 levels of bullshit and they all just wanted to push the “Batfamily” and while Dick was gone, they were trying to make Jason fill the void that Dick left in Batman events. It didn’t work at all and all they did was mess around with Jason’s characterization more.

Geoff Johns in Three Jokers.

I have talked enough about Johns’ takes on Jason Todd and Red Hood, but let me tell you something real quick, if a writer thinks that the best they can do with a character is make them give up their morals/ideals for an unrequited love interest, then they can keep that idea for themselves. Geoff Johns wrote a book that was absolutely not needed and then proceeded to butcher every characterization that he could, Three Jokers was three issues long and he managed to add more trauma to Jason’s torture, push the narrative of Jason being at fault for his own murder and make Jason’s motivations to be the Red Hood weak enough to make him want to give up his work for a woman that he barely knows (and doesn’t like him at all).

Joshua Williamson in Future State: Red Hood and Robin #5.

Now, with Williamson I have issues only when he writes Jason, not because his stories are bad, don’t get me wrong, I would have completely enjoyed FS: Red Hood if it weren’t for the completely unnecessary Rose/Jason side plot he had going on. Jason was clearly working undercover for some people that he hated working with. He had to arrest or kill “masks” (vigilantes, just like he “used” to be) for the Magistrate.

His ideas were pretty solid, Jason did the job but he never killed the masks and actively didn’t trust the Magistrate but he was working there to tear them apart from within, and that’s amazing if Williamson had given us Jason Todd/Red Hood working undercover to dismantle an organization I would have been really happy.

But that’s not all he gave us, even if I just forget about his failed attempt at giving Jason a relationship, I can still see that Williamson is the kind of writer that wants (or is just following DC) to make the “Batfamily” happen no matter how dumb and out of place it looks in comics’ canon. So, I am a little bit weary, any writer that leans too much towards making Jason and Bruce work together and become a family makes me want to scream, but I do understand that is just me, many people want those two to be buddy-buddy, I, personally, would love to see Jason kick Bruce in the balls and tell him to lose his number.

Chip Zdarsky in Urban Legends: Cheer.

Ah, yes, I remember the days in which I thought that this could have been something good. Well, I was utterly wrong and I suffered all the way through this mini. I feel like now I can safely say that Zdarsky only wanted to write a Batman book but DC told him, “Hey you can write Batman but it has to be within a Red Hood story, but don’t worry, you don’t have to know much about the Hood guy, just come up with something and write Batman around that”.

I know that’s what happened because I read that story and all we got from it was horrible characterizations for pre-Robin Jason, Robin Jason, Jason Todd and Red Hood. I don’t know how he did it but yes, he managed to mess it all up.

From Jason not really wanting to be Robin and acting recklessly every step of the way, to secret desires of a perfect family with Bruce and so many other people that he couldn’t care about, Urban Legends: Cheer is the perfect book to avoid at all costs if you believe that the concept of “Batfamily” is the biggest lie, DC is trying to profit off this time around.

Zdarsky also nerfed Jason in ways that I thought DC only wanted to nerf Dick Grayson. But I was able to see that I was wrong. Zdarsky’s run also pushed some of the most disastrous narratives that DC really wants readers to believe like: Robin Jason wasn’t good at his job, he was too reckless and ultimately his death was his own fault. Yay! I want to cry!

I will give Zdarsky two points for at the very least showing that Red Hood wants to protect children and that he has a huge issue with how the drug trade is controlled and abused in Gotham City, it had been a while since we had seen that aspect of Jason’s Red Hood make an appearance.

It’s just too many writers completely missing the point of Red Hood’s character or simply writers agreeing to destroy Jason’s uniqueness in the DC Universe so DC (as the publisher) can further push the abomination that is the “Batfamily” in comics’ canon.

I do agree with you Anon when you say that Jason isn’t just a “bad boy” but I also don’t think that we can call UtRH Jason “dangerously insane”. Personally, I will only use that last description for BftC and Batman and Robin Jason, those two were dangerously insane indeed.

UtRH Jason was very meticulous in who he wanted dead and who got to live. He entered Gotham’s most dangerous world and he had to make a big entrance, he invited the eight most prosperous street dealers to a meeting, showed up with the decapitated heads of each of their right-hand men and an AK-47 and said:

“I am offering you a deal. I will be running the drug trade from now on. You will go about your business as usual. You will kick up forty percent to me. That is a much better deal than the Black Mask will give you. In return, you will have total protection from both the Black Mask and Batman. The catch? You stay away from kids and schoolyards. No dealing to children, got it? If you do, you’re dead.”

This was Red Hood! Red Hood wanted to control the drug trade in Gotham because he knew that Gotham is far too corrupt and filled with drug lords for him to just want to eradicate drugs from Gotham. If he had tried that he would have been a dumbass, but he wasn’t. He didn’t want to start a gang war and get innocent people killed because of it, he wanted to set the rules of his new Empire and he had to start with the street-level drug dealers, from there he grew until he became a major pain in Black Mask’s ass.

We went from Jason wanting to control the drug trade and take over Gotham’s underworld so people like Black mask couldn’t have people work for him (or being dependent on him) when they were still in high school or were in a vulnerable position, to Jason fighting a war for a mystic land because he was their “Chosen One”. DC really wanted to do something grand (yet boring) with Jason instead of sticking to a street-level vigilante that could have become a Drug Lord to control the drug trade of a city that is so filled with crime and corruption that it can’t be saved by anyone.

Batman doesn’t eradicate crime, he “controls” it, puts a blank it over it, lets it nap up until it wakes up once more to make more mess.

Red Hood had other plans, certain criminals didn’t get to nap, or, better said, they would get to nap forever.

So, no. I wouldn’t call that “dangerously insane”, I will call that “vigilante that believes himself judge, jury and executioner” of a city that is drowning in crime and corruption.

Anyway, I hope you have a really nice week Anon and thank you so much for sending me this ask!

#jason todd #red hood #under the red hood #red hood and the outlaws #dc comics #future state red hood #three jokers #bftc #asksss

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luminescentauthor · 3 years

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i brought more of my dumb “birds of prey accidentally adopt red hood, because jason deserves nice things” au!

i REALLY need to read more BoP comics because a) badass superhero women hell yeah and b) there are some characters here i don’t know much about (Lady Blackhawk, for example.) (Edit: I’m 19 issues in to BoP (1996). This is all I’ve been doing since I posted this. I’m loving it??? And it’s still only Black Canary and Oracle. Dinah is a way too oversexualized but I just got to watch Babs fuckin roast the Joker this is GREAT)

TEAM MEMBERS:

Oracle/Barbara "Babs" Gordon: Team Leader. Staying Oracle because disability representation, FUCK YOU DC. Take your magic cure and gtfo.

Black Canary/Dinah Lance: Field Leader. If they lose comms or can't contact Oracle, or if they just really need someone on the ground giving out instructions. However, this happens like... Maybe once every five years. Generally, Oracle's bird's eye view is more advantageous, plus they have some of the best tech there is.

Huntress/Helena Bertinelli

Catwoman/Selina Kyle

Harley Quinn/Dr. Harleen "Harley" Quinzel

Poison Ivy/Dr. Pamela "Pam" Isley

Lady Blackhawk/Zinda Blake

Katana and Strix are both former members, they sometimes help with missions or just stop by to say hi.

Black Bat and Spoiler occasionally join the team for missions, and often hang out with Oracle. Bluebird, though retired, still occasionally hangs out with Oracle and the Batgirls. She’s very useful for tech/engineering consultation.

Batwoman also joins for missions and hangs out, just because Kate’s awesome.

Yeah I’m combining the Birds and Sirens, what about it. I want to watch these awesome ladies kick ass together.

Anyway, lots of hcs below!

Absolutely none of the Birds have any idea how this "we adopted Red Hood" thing happened at all, but it did. Jason has the least idea of any of them. However, he’s also attempted escape about 3 times and failed more dramatically each time and has officially given up on getting away.

There HAVE sometimes been dudes on the Birds of Prey canonically, so I'm not that out there with making Jason a sort-of member. But "sort-of" should be emphasized. Red Hood still more or less does his own thing. He's mostly just the team's annoying little brother.

Honestly I'm torn between two options: “FUCK YOU IM A FEMINIST ALL FEMALE TEAM I REFUSE TO MAKE HIM A FORMAL MEMBER” and “There's zillions of male-dominated superhero teams with a single token female and I'm inverting that for comedic purposes, but instead of him being a love interest he's just Really Really Annoying Little Brother”

When he does work with them, he's more likely to go undercover/infiltrate than anything else. Even if he is somehow compromised, people go "Red Hood found us!" not "the Birds of Prey found us!" which is useful.

I.e. Sometimes Barbara needs something done without an opponent linking it back to the team, so she'll just call Jason to take care of it.

BARBARA AND JASON SIBLING RELATIONSHIP

My ideal pre-Joker dynamic for them is Barbara constantly thinking “I love you but I am SO exasperated with you, you little shit” and Jason being the most annoying little brother EVER, and they basically just return to that

Somewhere in the background, Alfred is wiping away a single tear and Bruce is pretending he doesn’t care but his heart is swelling.)

Dick is the only member of the Batfam besides Bruce and Alfred who isn't confused as hell by how absolutely chaotic Babs and Jason's relationship is because when he visited he saw

Look, I understand that Barbara canonically can hold a hell of a grudge, but ALSO Barbara canonically recruited Ivy for the BoP. Yes, the situation with Jason is more personal, but I take the opinion that once Jason was doing better, Barbara would be willing to reconcile with him.

I should add that in my versions of the DCU, Jason only attacked Tim once, and it was primarily an attempt to bully/scare Tim out of being Robin. They fought and Jason wound up knocking him out in frustration, but there were no guns or knives involved. I'm in the "Jason Todd Does Not Hurt Children, Teen Titans #29 Is OOC, Canon Be Damned" party

Babs has a cat a la this brilliant art by @avataraandy just because I love the concept

If that link isn't working here's a reblog of the original

The cat is probably Selina's fault somehow tbh

Yes it sits on her keyboard all the time

I saw someone said it should be named Delphi and I really like that except I already named their base Delphi so??

Harley, Jason, and Barbara bonding over Joker-related trauma!!!

The Joker is never able to escape from Arkham for longer than two days anymore because the rest of the Birds of Prey will hunt him down and they will beat the shit out of him for what he did to those three

Sometimes those join in to three hunt him down too and then the asshole is completely screwed.

Everyone on this team is either chaotic or irresponsible and they keep enabling each other

Barbara on her own, or with the Batfamily? 100% responsible. More or less. Dinah on her own? Usually fine. Selina on her own? Meh, but probably fine. Probably.

With the others Birds? Nope. Harley and Jason are The Ultimate Enablers and that's the sole reason.

Bruce is going to die of a heart attack, seriously-

Dinah giving Jason a hard time about letting his emotions compromise his fighting ability and then training him (read: kicking his ass)

But also helping him overcome his trauma and counseling him because he deserves to heal

Dinah and Harley become the most unlikely duo in the name of forcing the rest of the team to confront their issues. It eventually backfires when Dinah tries to get Harley to confront her issues, and Harley fires straight back because really, everyone in this group has problems.

This is random but I love @apleye‘s siren designs so we're including those

The Birds of Prey's base is referred to as "Delphi" which is an "Oracle of Delphi" reference. It was Jason's idea. Barbara's immediate reaction was "that is so nerdy I love it."

One time the team actually winds up in Delphi for a mission and it screws with them the whole time.

Barbara is regret. She calls Jason to complain and he just tunes into their frequency and winds up laughing at them the entire instead of reading his book. He thinks it's hilarious. Barbara. Is. Regret.

Post-mission, they keep calling it Delphi and agree that if they end up anywhere near the real Delphi again, they'll instead call it "the base" until they're gone.

Jason cannot stop laughing.

The number of villains who have gone looking for Oracle on the actual island of Delphi is a little ridiculous. It's half the reason Babs agrees to keep the name. It's funny watching people run around.

Jason goes by “Phoenix” on those rare occasions he actually joins Birds of Prey missions for reasons other than recon. It was Babs’ idea. Came back from the dead, and all.

He uses a different identity because Red Hood and the Birds of Prey being separate entities works in their favor. Like I mentioned above, sometimes they need to avoid something being linked to the team, and Hood is useful for that.

Literally nobody realizes Phoenix and Red Hood are the same person because Red Hood is loud and brash and uses guns, whereas Phoenix is significantly less intimidating and doesn't really use weapons, mostly hand-to-hand. Red Hood wears combat boots, cargo pants, body armor, and a leather jacket; Phoenix wears something more like a loose bodysuit with a hood that looks more like the Orphan costume or League of Assassins gear. There's a full cloth facemask and goggles to hide his face and hair.

The Bats are alarmed to realize that Jason, who usually stomps around in combat boots, is completely silent when he wears anything that isn't heavy boots with reinforced metal soles.

Jason can be silent in the boots if he wants to be, it's just a lot of effort.

PRE-CRISIS REFERENCE! Natalia Knight (not Natalia Mitternatch; two different characters) sometimes shows up to a) mother Jason and b) occasionally work with the team. Kate is initially deeply suspicious given that Knight is the original Nocturna and the second Nocturna violated Kate, but then Knight turns out to be perfectly friendly. She's a villain but decent person who mostly just steals things and is against killing, but has proven willing to cross that line to protect her loved ones.

You can read @coolgirl's post summarizing her shared history with Jason here!

To quote another post of mine: Poison Ivy is an ecoterroist and not a seductress goddammit! Let her be a skilled biochemist and botanist! Let her be nerdy! Let her wear pants and flannel and straw hats like the farm girl she is at heart! Let her go from “destroy humanity” to “destroy factories that are illegally dumping waste and sure Batman doesn’t love it but she’s not actually killing much of anyone and they were ILLEGALLY dumping waste so he’s going to focus on bigger problems”! Let her be morally gray instead of evil from the get-go because she has totally understandable motives!

HARLIVY!!

They're sapphos and they're in love and there's nothing anyone can do about it

Any of the rest of the team will fight anyone who makes a comment about it

Pam owns so many flannels. Harley steals them all the time. She's not the only member of the team that does so. Pam Flannels are The Best.

"Harles I love you but please stop stealing my shirts-"

Similarly, if anyone is dumb enough to make an ableist comment about Babs, the team will find out and they will fuck that person up. Usually the other Bats join in.

Jason jokingly calls Selina mom once and Selina cries. Jason is taken aback, but also touched that it means that much to her.

Selina spends most of her spare time reverse Indiana-Jones-ing artifacts, returning them to their proper cultures. Barbara helps.

Pam and Harley spend a lot of time blowing up factories dumping illegal waste.

Harley Quinn and Red Hood sometimes beat up abusers together, while Barbara gets the evidence to get them locked away.

Bruce is so, so tired. This team is going to be the death of him.

Selina loves him dearly, and is nonetheless totally okay with that.

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

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Okay but imagine a Freaky Friday scenario back when Bruce and Dick were originally on the outs and Dick was with the Titans full time.

Something incredibly plot contrived happens and whammo, eighteen year old Dick wakes up in Bruce’s body with Jason just down the hall....still new to the Manor, filled to the brim with trust issues and other shit Dick can relate to and brings back memories of his early days in the Manor and how hard Bruce worked to make Dick feel comfortable there, thus priming Dick with Nostalgia thoughts and like, I miss THAT guy, where did that version of my dad go and is he still in there....

And additionally, when further contrived plot contrivances conspire with dastardly deeds that force Bruce and Dick to stay in each other’s bodies for like a week or two until they can change back, and like, cosplay as each other because they both have responsibilities that can’t be avoided....like, Dick is forced to temporarily act as Jason’s guardian and like.....there’s character development and personal realizations and building a connection based on common ground and shared experiences even if they aren’t perfectly parallel, much like Bruce built his connection with Dick based on the common ground that was the murder of their parents, and like.....opportunities for all the above are just ripe for the picking.

And meanwhile, Bruce wakes up in Dick’s body and is like.....wut. But being Bruce and having developed eighty million contingency plans even for off the wall hypothetical scenarios, he like, has a plan in case something like this ever happened.....and then he’s smacked in the face with the realization that coming up with an idea on how to deal with a situation you have no actual knowledge of or experience with is not like....a sturdy basis for assuming your approach will be any kind of effective at all. And so Bruce is forced to consult ACTUAL experts with this kind of shit, like Zatanna and Constantine and Dick’s own teammates Raven and Lilith, and grumpily acknowledges that the safest thing for them both is to wait this out and go about each other’s lives as much as possible, like Alfred and Jason and the Titans and the JLA are all in the know, its just....weird.

And Bruce is uncomfortably aware that he’s surrounded by people who know Dick even better than him at this point, and who are not his biggest fans as a result....and then blow-ups have him trying to defend certain choices....only to realize that when faced with people who are not emotionally invested in a connection with him which they’re afraid to lose by pushing too hard....that like heeeeey, maybe certain choices were not as good as he made himself believe at the time. With this budding epiphany then nurtured by his growing awareness that he’s been treating this whole thing as an inconvenience, like its a waste of his time to be with the Titans when there’s REAL work he could be doing - only he just can’t convince himself of that anymore after being shoved into battle alongside them and seeing them in action from WITHIN their group....rather than looking down on them from a self-assumed pedestal of experience and greater wisdom.

Like, they know what they’re doing, they’re not the kids they started out as and hell, they knew what they were doing even THEN, that’s how they GOT to this point in the first place! They were never actively guided or trained as a TEAM by the older generation of heroes, and they’ve always had an entirely different dynamic with each other than they’ve had with their own individual mentors. And by watching them in action close up, seeing how well they gel and recognizing how much of their strategy and approach to things likely came from Dick sharing his own training with them just as they shared theirs with him and gave him insights and skills that even Bruce doesn’t have because it wasn’t Bruce who taught them to him...

Like, seeing how often they instinctively glance towards Dick for direction and the implicit trust in those gazes, as well as being forced to acknowledge how competently they roll with the reminder that it isn’t Dick and they have to coordinate for themselves because Bruce is the odd man out here no matter what face he’s wearing...

It’s like. Hmm. Epiphanies. They are happening.

And then you’ve got Bruce noticing how much they look out for each other - and him/Dick in particular because of how off balance he is at this time- so he additionally gains an understanding and appreciation of how Dick’s just as safe, if not more, with the Titans as he’s ever been at Batman’s side....

And then he gets a firsthand experience with The Chafing that comes from being smothered and overprotected by people who no matter how well-meaning or concerned they are for his - or well, just his body’s maybe, lol - safety, like, they seem to have no regard for him trying to remind them of his own competency and skills and how he can look out for himself. And since refusing to see or acknowledge that is half the basis for the conflicts that get between him building at least some kind of rapport with the Titans while stuck in this situation...well...

Again. There are. Hmm. Parallels perhaps. To his own relationship with his eldest son and their frequent conflicts.

And so opportunities abound for Bruce to be reminded just how skilled and capable - and needed and appreciated - his son is....as well as how Bruce being on the receiving end of various attitudes or views he’s expressed to Dick, like, might help make him abundantly aware of just how badly that’s probably been going over with Dick, like what all that must FEEL like to Dick and how it appears when viewed from his POV, and how all of that has contributed to the growing divide between them....and thus like, this might hopefully inspire him to like...not do that anymore. Ideally.

And then the plot contrivances wear off and they get shazamed back into their normal bodies and any attempt they might have made to pretend that never happened and just get back to normal is promptly slapped down by the others in their lives, who are just like, lol, no. We’re not doing that. This was weird, it happened, it was a whole thing, deal with it.

Forcing them to, y’know, deal with it. Helped along by some of Bruce’s Intimidation Quotient, such as it ever was, having worn off the Titans during his stay among them, so he starts getting bombarded with texts, calls, and speedster drop-ins like hey, didja adopt your son yet, Bats? How about talk to him. Did you do that at least? Did the word sorry come up at all? C’mon, we PRACTICED this.

Whereas Dick’s walk down Memory Lane via his time spent strolling through the halls he grew up in but from the POV of retracing Bruce’s decade old footsteps rather than his own - well, that did a lot to lower the drawbridge on the emotional barriers he’s built up to protect himself from further let-downs when it comes to his relationship with Bruce....helping to make him more amenable and receptive and optimistic about it being worth getting his hopes up one more time that the space between them can still be bridged.

Anyway. Just a random scenario I guess. Barely thought about it at all.

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mochegato · 3 years

Text

I Can’t Fight This Feeling

Chapter 5

Chapter 1 Chapter 4

The Gotham air was clear and crisp and so very still. Noises from traffic and strays rummaging through trash floated up, filling the otherwise empty air. The peace was barely broken by the sound of two sets of feet landing on the rooftop. They stood there awkwardly shuffling next to each other for a few minutes. Finally something seemed to break and Red Hood removed his helmet, still not making eye contact with his companion. Nightwing looked at him for a second before following suit and removing his domino mask. They were far enough up that nobody could see them and if Jason wanted to talk eye to eye, Dick wasn’t going to deny him.

When Jason still hadn’t spoken a few minutes later, Dick took the initiative and spoke first. “Thanks for helping us today. I don’t think we could have handled it without you,” he clapped Jason on the back.

“You would have been fine. You would have figured it out,” Jason shrugged. “You always do.”

“Not easily. Not without a lot of pain,” Dick corrected him.

Jason chuckled. He gave him a skeptical look from the corner of his eye. “First time I’ve been accused of not being a pain by you guys.”

Dick laughed and nodded. “It’s been a while.” He paused and watched Jason for a few seconds. “It felt nice… working together again. I missed this.”

Jason looked out over Gotham. “Yeah, wasn’t so bad. Don’t think B was too happy though.”

Dick grimaced at the reminder. “Bruce, he… you know he doesn’t approve of your tactics. He isn’t sure how to handle you, what to expect. And the bat on your chest. It makes it seem like he approves of your methods.”

Jason nodded. “Not going to lie. That was the original intent. To mess with B as much as possible. Cause as much pain as I could. But that’s not why I use it now. The bat… I use it so the kids don't get scared. So they know they can trust me.” He sighed, his eyes flicked over to Dick quickly before returning to the skyline. “But, I think they’ve started to figure me out. They know who I am now, so I can change that. I can take it off, use something different.”

Dick shook his head. “No, you keep it. I’ll smooth it over with Bruce.”

Jason nodded absently and kept his gaze focused on the city. He shifted anxiously for a few moments nervously twitching. Dick eyed him curiously. He couldn’t remember the last time Jason looked nervous. Angry? Yes, he’s seen that a lot. Annoyed, most definitely. He’s even seen surprise and fear. But he didn’t think he’s seen nervous since before… well, just before.

“You know, haven't killed anyone in a long time, right?” Jason asked quietly.

Dick’s eyes widened in surprise. He had noticed, but he wasn't sure if it was intentional or a tactic to lull enemies and Bruce, though Dick wasn’t sure if Jason considered them as separate categories, into a false sense of security. Dick kept his eyes looking out over the city, matching Jason’s gaze. Jason was starting to open up, just starting to show some vulnerability, and Dick would be damned if he scared him off now.

“I did notice,” he nodded slightly. “I just didn’t know the reason behind the change.”

Jason looked down again, shifting even more nervously now. The sounds from the cars below floated up to them, filling the silence between them while Jason collected himself and prepared for the rest of the conversation. “I'm getting married, Dickie bird.”

Dick gasped. His head whipped to face him. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could even figure out what he wanted to say, Jason continued. “And she's good, Dick. She's really good. She used to be a hero, but doesn't remember it. So when you meet her, you can't say anything. I’m only telling you so you understand just how good and trustworthy she is and B can never know.”

Dick stared at him, mouth a gape and eyes wide open. When? Did Jason say ‘when’? He had heard that right hadn’t he? “…too good for me,” Jason continued, ignoring the effect he was having on Dick. “But she won't let me say that in front of her. It's almost like she actually believes it, that I deserve her.” He chuckled ruefully and shook his head at the floor. He looked up at Dick searchingly, like the lost little boy Dick remembered from his childhood.

“Can you believe that? Somebody actually believing that. She's everything we were ever supposed to be, but better. She’s more compassionate than you. She’s smarter than Tim. She’s more creative than Damian. She’s braver than me. She’s perfect.

“And you know how when you actually meet someone that you think really highly of and actually spend time with them, you start to realize maybe they're not as amazing as you thought they were? That they’re just human and they have issues and failures just like the rest of us?” Dick nodded absently, still focused on Jason saying ‘when he got to meet her.’

“She's not like that,” Jason continued. “I met her. I’ve spent so much time with her. Hell, I'm living with her now. And the only thing I’ve learned is she’s even more amazing than I originally thought. She is everything to me. She makes me want to be better, but never asks me to be because she already thinks I am. She’s seen me at my worst and she still thinks… she still loves me.” He looked up at Dick with tears shining in his eyes. “Can you believe that? Can you believe someone thinks that?”

Dick gave him a small smile and pulled him into a tight hug. “Yeah, Little Wing. Yeah, I can.” His grin grew wider as he replayed the words in his head. Jason was happy. He was really happy. He was loved. His baby brother was getting married. He let out an excited laugh. “You’re getting married.” He pulled away to look in his eyes. “Tell me you proposed in an over the top romantic way. I’d hate to think all those classic, romantic novels were for nothing.”

Jason chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. “I did,” he assured him. He settled down on the edge of the building and patted the space next to him for Dick to join him. “Lots of flowers and candles and nostalgia. She cried.” He clasped his hands together in front of himself and smiled into them.

“You did too, didn’t you,” Dick teased knowingly.

Jason shot him a halfhearted glare but nodded. “Yeah, yeah I did.”

Dick sat with him for a few minutes just basking in being able to sit next to Jason peacefully for the first time in a long time. Finally, he looked over at Jason with a curious look. “So, she’s the reason you stopped killing? She asked you to stop?”

Jason shook his head then bobbed his head to the side instead. “Yes and no. She’s the reason, but she didn’t ask me to stop. I stopped before she knew what I did exactly. I stopped before she found out. I stopped before I disappointed her.”

“Does she know…” he vaguely motioned to Jason’s costume.

“Yeah. I told her. She knows everything. She isn’t thrilled about a lot of it… almost any of it, but she never left me. So… she knows who you guys are too.” He grinned at the memory. “She said the butts definitely don’t match. Batman has padding.” He pursed his lips in a pretend annoyed face. “She said Nightwing’s matches though. She wants to know your workout.”

Dick barked out a laugh loud enough for it to echo down the street. Jason narrowed his eyes at him and pointed at him warningly. “Yeah, so keep your ass away from my fiancé.”

Dick laughed louder and threw his arm around Jason’s shoulders and pulled him into a side hug. “I’ll make sure to only face toward her at all times when we meet. No turning around.” He nodded in mock seriousness.

Jason shoved him away playfully and groaned. “Don’t make me regret this, Dickwad.”

Dick laughed again. He grinned over at Jason. He’d missed this. He’d missed this connection, the banter, the brotherly teasing. He’d missed Jason. “So… has she met anyone else? In the family, I mean.”

Jason gave him a mischievous grin. “Oh, she’s met all of you, you just didn’t know who she was.” Dick looked at him questioningly, his mind started racing through all the women they’d met for the first time in the last year. Having had two galas in that time frame and a launch party and quite a few charity events didn’t help narrow down the possibilities. “She won’t be a new face to you. But, Alfred knows who she is. He’s met her. He’s the only one that knows about us. Alfred loves her.” He grinned again remembering them together. His eyes lit up at the memory. “They bake together. He taught her how to shoot a shotgun.”

Dick barked out another laugh. “No way! He won’t even teach us.”

Jason smiled pointedly at him. “Bruce won’t let him. But, Bruce doesn’t know about her and he doesn’t control what happens outside of his manor.” After a few minutes he looked down and furrowed his brow in thought. “She really likes you guys. I think she and Tim would be good friends if… if I… if it wasn’t for me. That’s one of the reasons… Family is so important to her and I want to have one with her someday. So I thought… I thought maybe I should start with the one I already have.”

Dick nodded. “It sounds like she’s had a big impact on you.”

Jason smiled back and stood up. “She has. So, dinner? Tomorrow?”

Dick stood up next to him and gave him another hug. “Definitely. Just let me know where and what time. I’ll be there.”

“And Dick?” Dick turned back to him questioningly. “I don’t… I’m not ready for anyone else to know yet.”

Dick nodded in understanding. “They won’t find out from me. See you tomorrow, Jaybird. Can’t wait to meet your fiancé.”

<><><><><>

“You’re back earlier than you expected,” Marinette noted with a smile as she looked up from her sewing. “Is that good or bad? Quiet patrol?”

“Yeah.” Jason answered absently. He ripped off his helmet and jacket. He threw them both on the chair as he made his way over to Marinette. She squeaked as he picked her up and placed her in his lap. He buried his head in her neck. “Hey, Pixie.”

Marinette immediately dropped her fabric and wrapped her arms around Jason. She slowly stroked his back and gently scratched his head in an attempt to comfort him. She nuzzled into his hair. “Hey. Are you okay? What happened?”

“It was fine. I’m okay,” he assured her, hugging her a little tighter. “I just ran into Dick tonight.”

She sucked in a breath and tightened her arms around him. “Oh?” she tried to force her voice to stay casual despite the way her heart was racing.

“Yeah.”

Marinette waited a few minutes before continuing on. “And how did that go?”

Jason pulled away from her so he could see her face. He brushed some hair over her shoulder and settled his arm back around her before he spoke again. “It went well actually. He noticed that I changed. He’s really excited to meet you.”

“Oh? You mentioned me?” she asked carefully. She knew how he felt about sharing any part of his life with is family. Hell, she knew how he felt about his family in general so if he was sharing about her, it must have gone really, really well.

“Yeah… and I… um… invited him to dinner tomorrow, if that’s okay with you.”

Marinette’s heart stopped for a second. He invited his brother to dinner. He invited his brother back into his life. This was… this was huge. “I’m okay with it. How do you feel about it? Are you okay with him coming here?”

Jason settled his chin on her shoulder. “I’m nervous… but excited. I’m looking forward to it... I think. I just… I don’t want to be a disappointment.”

Marinette pulled away from him just far enough to cup his face gently. “The only one disappointed in you, is you. And you are far too hard on yourself. You don’t deserve the way you treat yourself.”

“And B,” he added.

“Fuck Bruce,” she grunted before pausing. “Not in a sexual way, obviously.”

Jason huffed out a laugh. “Obviously.”

She stroked his cheeks gently. “Parents make mistakes. They have flaws and foibles just like everyone else. You don’t become a parent and suddenly you’re perfect. All the same flaws and foibles you had before are still there, just amplified by stress and fear of making a mistake. But those aren’t yours to take on. You aren’t responsible for his flaws.”

Jason chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Foibles, huh?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Oh yeah, talk literary analysis to me, baby. Break down those characters for me.”

Marinette pushed his face away with a groan. “Nerd.” He laughed and hugged her closer. Marinette looked back up at him adoringly and smirked. “Just focus on the chaos when he finds out it’s me.”

Jason grinned back at her. “He’s going to be so annoyed. You’ve been working with them for months and he never knew.” He chuckled at the thought. “It’s going to be brilliant.”

Marinette laughed along with him. “You should make sure to take a picture.”

Jason turned back to look at her. His smile turned loving. “You’re brilliant.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

“You are.” He moved his head closer to hers. “You’re brilliant” He kissed her forehead. “…and beautiful.” He kissed her cheek. “…and brave.” He kissed her other cheek. “…and… um… benevolent.” He kissed her jaw. “… and…”

She grinned at him and moved her lips until they were just a few centimeters from his. “Run out of attributes already?” She looked down at his lips and back up to his eyes. “Shame.” She stood up and walked out of the room with a flirty glance over her shoulder.

“Hey!” he called after her. “I wasn’t done. That was just the B’s.” He grinned as he watched her swish her hips as she walked down the hallway. “Come back here and let me love you, woman!” He jumped over the back of the couch and raced down the hallway after her.

End

Tags:

@jasonette-july-event @jayjayspixiepop @aespades @how-to-function-properly @pawsitivelymiraculous @maribatserver @toodaloo-kangaroo

#maribat #jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #prompt - family

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sun-moon-stars-jedi · 3 years

Text

So we all know that Jason is a theatre kid, right? That boy loves Shakespeare and the classics, and he’s got such a natural flair for drama, he was practically born for the stage.

I imagine during his time at Gotham Academy Jason might not have had many friends or been really all that social on account of his background and most of the other students being snobs, so he wasn’t very interested in spending more time at the school than he had to. The one after-school activity Jason just couldn’t resist joining though was the theatre club.

What I want to get at is that somewhere in Wayne Manor there are videotapes hidden in a closet of fourteen-year-old Jason performing in his first (and only) school play, complete with Jason beaming at Bruce and waving at him after the final bow and Bruce’s proud “That’s my son!” coming loudly from behind the camera.

Those tapes haven’t seen the light of day in a long time and as such Tim and Damian have absolutely no idea what they are when they stumble across them one afternoon while cleaning the Manor (Alfred’s newest form of punishment when they get into fights).

As detectives the two of them obviously have to find out what’s on the tapes (and also they’ll take any excuse to stop cleaning - the Manor is freaking huge, you know?) so they unearth a VHS player from somewhere and hunker down in one of the less used sitting rooms, hoping that it’ll be a while until Alfred finds them slacking off.

At first they’re kind of disappointed when a stage and some clearly untalented teenagers appear on the screen, having expected something much jucier hidden away in the depths of the house.

But then little Jason Todd walks onto the stage, in costume and everything, and the video becomes a lot more interesting.

At first Tim and Damian are grinning, exchanging a rare, completely in sync look, because they both recognize an opportunity for blackmail material when they see one.

But then Jason begins to speak and they are both instantly captured by how confidently his words carry across the stage, recognizable even on a VHS tape, how he moves as if the stage was all he had ever known, how all the other actors seemed to gravitate towards him and their perfomances seemed to get better just because Jason was there.

They realise that Jason is good at this.

And not just a good actor like all the Bats are when they have to be, but with Jason it seems to go deeper, something coming alive in the boy they are watching from across the years, like he has found a place where he can shine on the stage.

Tim and Damian get so sucked into the performance that they don’t even notice how much time passes until they hear a soft “Oh” from behind them and turn to find Bruce standing there, something vulnerable and longing in his expression as he watches young Jason on the screen.

Neither of them says anything when their father joins them on the couch, eyes never leaving the TV, and together they watch until the play ends, Jason’s smiling face the last image on the screen before it turns black.

They sit there in silence for a while, each of them obviously thinking about the bright young boy they had just watched and comparing him to the Jason they know now. And yes, Jason isn’t trying to kill them anymore, he’s even working with the Bats most of the time and somewhat reluctantly acknowledges them as family, but he’s still so closed off, as if he doesn’t allow himself to come back fully to the family out of some sense of self-punishment.

“Jay‘s a good actor,” Tim finally says, the words inadequate, but they break the silence that had started to become oppressive. “Did he like the theatre club?”

“Yes,” Bruce answers, his mind clearly far away, “he wouldn’t shut up about it for months. He was so excited they gave him the lead in the next play because his first performance was so great, but then...”

They all know what happened then, and instantly the silence is back, heavier than before.

“Excuse me,” Bruce mumbles and then it’s just Tim and Damian on the couch, looking after their retreating father before meeting each other’s eyes.

And they may not have the easy brotherhood between them that they share with Dick, or the understanding that is so inherent in every interaction with Cassandra, but in that moment Tim and Damian both know exactly what they have to do and that they will do it together.

So it comes to pass that Tim hacks into Gotham Academy to find out which play the theatre club performed the year Jason died while Damian somehow bullies his way onto the theatre club and manages to make them pick that same play for this year’s performance.

And so Damian, pretending to be deeply unhappy about it, asks all of his siblings to help him prepare at home, because the imbeciles he goes to school with are obviously not on par with his own acting abilities, and even though his siblings are also not as great as Damian, they are adequate for the purpose.

Dick of course agrees immediatly, always eager for family time. Cass just smiles knowingly at Damian (and Tim) before she nods and Tim pretends to be annoyed but eventually agrees under the pretense of wanting blackmail material.

Jason takes the longest to agree, finally doing so with the declaration that he just wants to see Damian make an ass of himself in front of his whole school, but Tim and Damian can tell that underneath he’s actually excited about this.

So from then on the five of them meet regularly, which has never really happened outside of patrol, and it turns out they really have a lot of fun together. They joke, tease each other, make fun of Bruce, the usual stuff, but everything feels lighter when the thing bringing them together isn’t Bat-related for once.

Jason also starts to spend a lot more time at the Manor, not only with his siblings, but also with Alfred and eventually even Bruce and that is something Tim and Damian hadn’t expected, but they certainly aren’t complaining. It’s finally like Jason is a real part of the family again and they both have to admit they like having their big brother around - he’s different from Dick, rougher around the edges and not as openly affectionate, but it’s nice to not be babied or told to go to bed at a sensible hour, and Jason is always up for a prank war or other dumb ideas, so Tim and Damian actually have a lot of fun with him.

Then, after months of preparation, the play of course finally has to be performed.

Damian claims he wants a proper rehearsal before having to perform in front of the whole school and it’s not as if the other Batkids don’t know their parts by now, so they build a makeshift stage in the ballroom of the Manor and finally perform the full play, with Bruce and Alfred as their audience.

And while Jason was of course good in the rehearsals before, the moment he steps onto the stage this time it is once again as if he has found his true calling, as if something inside him has come awake that makes him radiate with confidence and charisma. His performance is breathtaking, so much so that his siblings oftentimes nearly miss their cues because they are so captivated just watching him.

After the final line a silence falls over the room, as if everyone is holding their breath, until it is broken by Bruce standing up, clapping as he looks from one of his kids to the next, something fiercely proud and loving in his expression.

His gaze meets Jason’s last, and they just look at each other for a long time, something seeming to settle between them after all these years. It’s not that time has been rewound and this certainly doesn’t erase the past, but maybe if they can have this moment that they both thought lost to a crowbar and an explosion, there can be others like it.

Tim and Damian share a look and even a tentative smile, and maybe this whole idea wasn’t only good for Bruce and Jason’s relationship.

When Damian stands on his school’s stage the next evening he finds six faces in the crowd that are only focused on him, and there is even a camera standing on a tripod next to his father, who is smiling proudly up at him.

Next to him sits Jason, draped casually across his seat, but he’s also smiling and leaning against Bruce’s shoulder in a way he wouldn’t have just a month or two ago, and that certainly makes this worth it, even if Damian will have to endure several more performances next to some of his less than talented classmates.

The things one does for family...

#jason todd #batfam #bruce wayne #damian wayne #tim drake #I know the timeline with videotapes doesn't fit anymore but let me have my fun #they make me nostalgic okay?#headcanon that turned into a fic halfway through #...oops #did dami have to join the theatre club for real?#no but he's a bat and that means he goes all or nothing #dick grayson #cassandra cain #my writing

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there-must-be-a-lock · 3 years

Text

Leave Your Boots By The Bed (SPN x BtVS)

Sam Winchester x Faith Lehane

Word Count: 7350

Warnings: It’s smutty! Samhandling, the jockey is MJ’s favorite sex position, lots of discussions of trust and consent, unprotected sex, rimming, spanking, hair pulling, and dom/sub themes. Wee bit o’ feelings but in a nice way with a happy ending. Mostly just a whole bunch of marathon, athletic, probably-not-OSHA-compliant banging.

A/N: This is the Sam/Faith side-quest (idk what else to call it) to Big Damn Heroes, but you don’t really need to read that to understand this. You can also read just the scene where these two meet over here.

This is my entry for @idabbleincrazy and her “What Do You Mean This Is Classic Rock?” Challenge! My prompt was “Girl All The Bad Guys Want,” by Bowling For Soup, which 100% gave me Faith vibes. It’s quoted/referenced a couple times in the story.

It’s also my (second) entry for @stusbunker’s Jam Basket fic exchange. This one’s for @thoughtslikeaminefield, who deserves the world on a silver platter. I cannot give her that, so instead I offer Faith smut. Thanks to @mskathywriteswords for prodding and lotion-related reality checks, and to @fangirlxwritesx67 for the read-throughs and for reassuring me that if I ever write Sam smut without a little psychoanalysis thrown in, she will worry about me.

Title from the Jason Isbell song “Cover Me Up,” which I listened to on repeat while writing certain chunks of this.

“What’s so funny?” Faith asks, looking at him sideways as they walk.

“I just told you I come from another universe and your response is ‘cool.’”

“Am I supposed to be impressed? I like it this way. No chance of you gettin’ all clingy.”

Sam laughs. “Fair enough.”

“Monsters, huh? You ever staked a vamp before?”

“Stakes don’t kill ‘em in my world. But… beheaded a few,” Sam says mildly.

“Yeah?” Her eyes sparkle. “So if we take the shortcut through the graveyard, you’re not gonna slow me down or get yourself killed?”

He gives her an unimpressed look. “What do you think?”

“Let’s go, then,” she challenges, pointing to the cemetery gate up ahead. “Bet I can dust more before we get to the other side.”

“You’re on.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“Heads up,” Faith shouts, and tosses him a stake. Sam whirls and punches it through the thing’s ribcage, sending dust swirling just in time to turn and watch Faith launch herself at another vamp.

“Is this where you take all your dates?” Sam wonders out loud, a little bit enthralled by the cocky grin on her face as she sends the vamp stumbling with one of those showy spin-kicks.

“This is not a date,” she snaps, between solid punches. The last hit decks the vamp, and she stakes him before he can hit the ground. She struts toward Sam, brushing dust from her skintight jeans with a Cheshire cat smile. “I like my job. Fuckin’ sue me.”

“Not complaining,” Sam says, sincerely. “Hottest thing I’ve seen in ages.”

She looks up at him suspiciously, like she thinks he’s making fun of her, and Sam lets her see the heat in his eyes. The grin is back, and she’s grabbing him by the lapels and rocking onto her tiptoes, swaying into him with a little sigh and a lot of confidence. Sam slides both hands into her hair and ducks down to kiss her, sucking on her lower lip and tasting waxy red.

Breathtakingly competent and moderately bitchy has always sorta been his type.

“We had a bet,” he points out, before crushing his mouth to hers again. She makes a sound like a purr and wrenches herself away, grabbing him by the wrist and making a beeline for the path.

“I’m gonna say we both won here,” she says decisively. “Let’s go.”

* * * * * * * * * *

She grabs him the second the lock slides into place, backing him against the door, already tugging at his belt. He yanks her jacket off her shoulders and she lets it fall, and then he grabs her by the belt loops, reeling her in until she’s pressed against him, hips flush to his as he slouches against the door. He bends to mouth at the long smooth line of her throat.

“Talk to me,” he says, nipping at her earlobe. She shivers.

“Fuck that,” she says hoarsely. “Didn’t bring you here to talk.”

“Don’t worry, I can multitask.” Sam nibbles at the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, working delicate skin between his teeth, and pops the button of her jeans. He slides a hand down, teasing her clit with his fingertips, and repeats: “Tell me what you like.”

“I like a lot less conversation and a whole lot more nudity,” Faith tosses back, but her voice is ragged, and she tilts her head to the side, baring her neck for his teeth. “I don’t fuckin’ know, dude, are we doing this or not?”

He bends just enough to scoop her up, and she goes with it, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck as he cups her ass with both hands. When he turns them around, slamming her back against the door and rolling his hips, Faith lets out a breathy sound of surprise.

He drags his open mouth up the side of her throat and repeats, “Talk to me.”

She pulls him up by the hair, forcing his head back, rough and perfect, and Sam moans against her lips as she kisses him. It’s more like a bite, all teeth and heat.

“Bedroom’s that way,” she says huskily.

She’s so strong, rock-solid where she’s wrapped around him, that it’s barely an effort to carry her through the small, spare living space. She’s got her hands in his hair and her teeth scraping his collarbone, and Sam grits his teeth against the sting as he kicks the door shut behind them.

“Get your fuckin’ clothes off already,” she rasps, tugging at his flannel, and he strips both his shirts off obligingly, leaning back against the wall to balance as he discards them without putting Faith down.

She lets go of his neck to help him, holding herself up with no support other than her abs and her thighs. Sam’s just as turned on by that casual display of strength as by the sight of bare skin — no bra — when she peels her tank top off. He hoists her a little higher, until he can flick his tongue over one hard pink nipple. He blows a stream of cool air over the sensitive skin and she shivers, thighs squeezing his sides as she arches her back.

“What do you want?” Sam whispers, and laves his tongue over the other nipple.

“Fuck, anything, you’re killin’ me here.”

“Anything?” He scrapes pebbled skin with his teeth, savoring the way she squirms.

“Want you naked. Now.” She twists out of his grasp like a cat, sliding down his front and landing gracefully on her feet. Gracefully but loudly, that is; she crouches to deal with her big chunky boots, and Sam toes off his own.

He grins down at her as she tugs on his belt, admiring the way her mouth looks: bright red from his teeth, now, with the last smudges of lipstick smeared down her chin.

Sam bats her hands away from his zipper. He picks her up before she can argue and tosses her bodily onto the bed, and she bounces on the mattress, her hair spilling across the sheet like a dark glossy halo. She lifts her hips to get her jeans off, her torso bowing up in a long elegant curve.

Neither of them hide the way they check each other out when the clothes are finally out of the way. Sam kneels on the bed, looking down at her, and she bites her lip, tracking the movement of his hand as he strokes himself lazily.

“Is this what you want?” he asks. “Ask for it.”

Her eyes sparkle, mischievous and defiant, and she moves so fast that Sam’s taken by surprise when she grabs him — he can’t remember the last time that happened to him, let alone in bed. She pulls him down on top of her and rolls them over, switching their positions, and Sam laughs breathlessly as she pins his wrists to the pillow on either side of his head.

“I don’t like takin’ orders,” she says smugly.

“Is that true?” Sam counters. “Or have you just never met anybody who knows how to give orders?”

She looks startled by that, but instead of responding, she straddles him — sinks down on him wet and tight and perfect — and Sam has to grit his teeth and close his eyes for a moment, adjusting to all that sudden slippery heat around him.

There’s a gratifyingly breathless note in her voice when she says, “Does it matter? Point is, I can take care of myself.”

She’s not fucking kidding about that part.

She arches into a spectacular back-bend, supporting herself with one hand and zero visible effort. Her other hand is between her legs, rubbing her clit hard and fast as she bucks her hips up in little jerky rocking movements — and there’s an image that will (hopefully) be seared into Sam’s memory until the day he dies. For a moment all he can do is watch and try to memorize it. Then he presses the heel of his hand into her lower belly, grinding into her as best he can, and she clenches around him, soaking and squeezing in pulses so intense it almost hurts as she comes with a rough, husky moan.

“This is gonna be fun,” Sam breathes, and he tugs her upright for one searing kiss before flipping her onto her stomach.

* * * * * * * * * *

When Sam offers to wash her hair, she reacts like he just proposed marriage, except instead of an engagement ring, he’d offered her a grenade pin — shock, disbelief, and more than a little fear.

“Please tell me this is a kinky thing,” she says warily, and Sam laughs, tilting his head back in the spray and sluicing water from his face with both hands. When he looks down at her again, she’s still got her lip curled and her defenses up.

“It’s not a kinky thing,” he says, rolling his eyes.

She can’t get far in the shower stall, but she turns her back to him, and Sam’s forcibly reminded of a cat, licking her paws dry after accidentally stepping in a puddle.

“I can wash my own damn hair. Shit, don’t get all touchy-feely on me.”

Sam’s had a lifetime of practice at remaining earnest in the face of someone who’s determined to pretend they don’t want his kindness. He knows better than to give up that easily.

“Come here,” he says, smoothing his hands up her sides. She doesn’t relax, exactly, but she doesn’t shy away. “Faith. Different universe, remember? Not a romantic thing. I just want to touch you.”

She takes a reluctant half-step back, settling against him without a word.

Sam squirts a dollop of shampoo into his palm, tilting her chin up so that her head falls back, and he massages her scalp with his fingertips, rubbing in firm circles.

“Keep your eyes closed for me,” he tells her quietly, maneuvering her into the spray, but he shields her face carefully with one hand as he starts to rinse the lather out, making sure the bubbles don’t go anywhere near the fan of her spiky-wet lashes. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” she croaks, barely audible under the sound of the water. “S’ not so bad.”

“Speaking of kinky things,” he says casually. “We should talk about that.”

“Yeah?”

“What do you like? What’s your safeword?”

“Safeword?” She snorts, dismissive. “What, you really think you could dish out somethin’ I couldn’t take?”

Sam clenches his jaw. He’s glad her back is to him so she can’t see the expression on his face right now.

There are no more bubbles in her hair, but he keeps running his hands through it, just to have something to do as he figures out how to say this.

“I don’t think there’s much you couldn’t take,” he tells her softly. “I think you might be the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”

“Damn straight,” she mutters, mollified.

Sam squeezes out some conditioner, finger-combing it through her hair.

“You don’t trust me,” he says. It’s not a question.

“Fuck no,” she replies promptly. “Why would I? Trust is something you gotta earn.”

Sam’s mouth twists into a smile. “Fair enough. But… it’s not about seeing how much you can take. It’s about you trusting me to stop, no questions asked, if you say that word. You want me to take control, I’ll do it. Believe me, I’m down. But not until you trust me. If you think you can do that, all you gotta do is ask. Okay?”

She takes a breath like she wants to say something, but she seems to think better of it. She lets out a sigh, looking at him — through him — and all he gets is a subdued, “Yeah, okay.”

Sam tilts her head back gently again, working his fingers through her hair until the little crease of a frown fades from her forehead. He turns her in his arms, cradling her against his chest, and she lets him, resting her cheek over his heart.

“Poughkeepsie.”

“Gesundheit.”

“Cute. It’s a city where I — I was in over my head, one time, and I needed help. That’s my safeword.”

She pulls back, looking up at him, confusion written all over her face. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I trust you.”

“Really?”

Sam shrugs. “If somebody offered you a lot of money to kill me, I’d sure as fuck be watching my back. But… as far as respecting boundaries? Here and now, just you and me? Yeah, I trust you completely.”

Faith stares, scanning his expression for a hint of a lie, but when she doesn’t find one, her eyes soften. Her lips curl briefly into a pleased little smile.

“Didn’t really take you for the submissive type.”

“I’m not.”

She cocks her head thoughtfully, gaze calculating, and prods, “Go on, then. You’re the one who wants to talk about everything.”

“No bodily fluids.”

“With you on that one. There’s good freaky fun and then there’s just freaky. What else? Bet you’d look real pretty tied to my bed.”

“No chains. Ropes, cuffs, that’s fine — no chains. Um.. pain isn’t a big deal. I’d rather you didn’t draw blood, but… as far as pain goes, don’t worry about pushing too far.”

“Tryna be a tough guy?”

“No. Just telling you the facts. Temperature play is a hard limit. Ice, especially.”

“Okay. So… if I wanted to blindfold you, tie you up, and ride your face for a while…”

“Works for me.” She gets out of the shower without another word, grabbing a towel, all business, and he laughs. “Somebody’s in a hurry.”

“You’ve got like sixty seconds before the hot water runs out and it gets all end-of-Titanic in there.” She flashes him a grin. “Also, yeah. Let’s go.”

* * * * * * * * * *

She pretends she’s asleep, for a while, but then she slips out of bed, and her bare feet don’t make a sound as she navigates the apartment in the dark. He hears the toilet flush, water run, then the creak of… something.

He gives her a minute to herself before he gets up, just as silent as she was, and follows the smell of smoke to the open window. She’s leaning on the sill, silhouetted by the filtered yellow light of street lamps, and when she takes a drag the orange ember flares in the dark.

“Jesus, fuckin’ scared the shit outta me,” she snaps. The Boston in her voice comes out strong when she’s startled. When she offers him the last bit of the cigarette he takes it, grabbing her wrist with the other hand, and throws it out the window as he pulls her close.

“Hey, I was smokin’ that,” she protests, voice crackly like there’s a popping fire down in her chest.

Sam traces the curve of her cheek. He brushes one curled knuckle back and forth over her lower lip and then drags the pad of his thumb over the pillow of it, watching the soft give as he presses down. Her tongue darts out to flicker over his thumb, but otherwise, she’s motionless.

Faith takes his wrist, holding his hand to her mouth, and swirls her tongue over the pad of his thumb. Then she slides his index and middle fingers into her mouth, sucking on them shamelessly. They slide from her lips with a wet pop. A bolt of heat thuds through Sam’s gut — he’s only human.

“I like your hands,” she purrs, with one last suggestive lick.

“Something in particular you want me to do with them?” he asks.

She hesitates and presses a kiss to the center of his palm before answering: “I bet you have some ideas.”

“Tell me what you want, Faith.”

For a second there’s a deer-in-headlights vulnerability in her huge dark eyes, and she can’t hide the slight frown that flickers across her face.

“Why do you keep asking me that?” she whispers. She’s still holding his wrist. Sam twists to lace his fingers through hers instead, letting their joined hands drop palm-to-palm.

“Because sex isn’t fun for me unless everybody’s getting what they want. Call me crazy, but…”

“I brought you here, didn’t I? You know I want it. That’d be good enough, for most guys. Believe me, if you do somethin’ I don’t like, I’ll tell you about it.”

Sam closes his eyes, thinking of a half-dozen possible answers to that question. He considers telling her about Meg and Gadreel and all the other things that have slithered in over the years and used his body without his permission. He feels a phantom pain in his palm and remembers Lucifer’s taunt — you let me in — and he considers telling her about why he can’t stand the feel of ice or the rattle of chains.

He settles for the most fundamental answer: “Because you deserve to get what you want. You deserve better than ‘good enough.’”

She digests that silently for a moment, and then she guides his hand firmly to her hip, before grabbing the other and placing it flat on her breastbone.

“Just… touch me?” she asks, and Sam smiles, shifting closer, running his hands over her skin: fingertips in the dip of her throat, thumb stroking her collarbone, palm sweeping up and down her side, gentle and deliberately innocent.

“Why does it bother you so much when I ask?” he says softly.

She grimaces, and for a second it looks like she’ll brush it off, make a joke of it.

“Not used to it, I guess. Most guys don’t ask. I think guys look at me, they make some assumptions, you know?”

“Such as?”

She shrugs. “Guess they figure I’m down for anything.”

“Faith.”

“Don’t. Anyway, it’s more than that. Most people, they only offer to give you something if they want something in return.”

“What do you think I want from you?”

“That’s what’s got me spun out. Figured you just wanted a great lay, but… you’re still here.” She drops her gaze. “Bein’ all sweet and shit.”

Sam tries to hide his smile. “Should I not be?”

“Can’t figure you out,” Faith mumbles. “You’re different.”

Sam thinks about that for a moment as he folds to his knees in front of her. He drags his mouth down the center of her chest, tasting salt, and nips at the soft skin under her belly-button.

“How do you mean?” He looks up at her again, holding eye contact as he traces her hipbone with his tongue.

“I’m not the kinda chick that sweet guys usually go for, you know?” She slides her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, and Sam hums his approval. “The nice ones know better. I’m the girl all the bad guys want.”

“That seems a bit reductive, don’t you think?”

“See, shit like that. Your mouth’s an inch away from my pussy and you’re using words like reductive.”

“I just want you. All of you, not just the ‘nice’ parts or the shit you show most guys.”

“Might not be saying that if — oh. Do that again.”

“Faith, trust me when I say that whatever you’ve done, I’ve done worse.”

“Jesus, can we talk about this later?”

“What do you want?”

“Want you to get your ass back in bed and quit teasing, for starters.”

“I can do that.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“The fuck did you find in the fridge?” Faith asks hoarsely.

“Beer and pickles,” he says, glancing over his shoulder with a grin.

She’s leaning against the frame of the bedroom door, wearing his flannel and nothing else. It’s open, baring a long slice of pale skin, from the dip between her breasts and down her stomach to a neat trail of dark hair. She looks like a centerfold, but rumpled and sleepy-eyed and real, human, in a way that makes it so much hotter.

“You went out.” She frowns at the front door.

“Are you surprised I came back?”

“Honestly? Not really.” Sam hides his smile at that answer. “Except that door’s supposed to lock automatically.”

“It does. I picked the lock.”

“Anything you can’t do?” Faith comes over and hoists herself up onto the counter next to him, eyeing the pan of bacon eagerly.

“Never been good at walking in heels.” Sam passes her the extra large to-go cup of dark roast he’d gotten her from the local coffee place, and she grins.

“Shit, you really know how to spoil a girl.”

Sam puts a hand on her bare thigh, thumb running back and forth idly as he takes her in, tracing the shape of her body with his eyes. She gives him a raised eyebrow and sips her coffee quietly. There’s none of the wariness or put-on swagger from last night. She just seems comfortable.

“No bruises,” he says, hand sliding up higher, finding nothing but unblemished skin where he knows he left marks. Every imprint of Sam’s teeth and hands and hipbones has melted away.

“Slayer healing.” She leans back on her palms, inviting him to touch more. Sam pulls his hand away — pancakes to flip — but he smirks.

“That’s a shame. They looked good on you.”

Faith’s eyes go dark. “Yeah?”

“I’ll just have to leave some more… later. Breakfast is ready.”

Faith eats with an indecent enthusiasm that reminds him of Dean, but somehow that doesn’t surprise him. Which… speaking of Dean — Sam borrows her cell as they’re finishing breakfast, because apparently other universes aren’t included in his roaming service, and a sleepy female voice picks up.

“Faith?”

“Sam, actually. Is my brother around?”

“Sam? Did you… you and Faith?” Buffy’s voice goes a little squeaky at the end. Then there’s indistinct scuffling.

Faith swipes her index finger through the maple syrup that’s left on her plate, sucking it clean, hollowing her cheeks in a way that’s pretty fucking distracting.

“Sammy?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Hey. You didn’t even notice I was gone, did you?”

“Where are you? Who’s Faith?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam says. “Did Charlie fix the thing?”

“Uh, hang on.” There’s a muffled conversation on the other line.

Faith gets up, walking around the table to pick up Sam’s plate, her movements slinky and deliberate, her hips swaying, showing off tantalizing glimpses of skin as his flannel skims the curves of her body. He twists around to watch her go. Faith sets both plates in the sink and stretches, and the flannel rides up her thighs.

“Pretty sure Charlie’s not awake yet either,” Dean says. “Late nights all around. Go team. Should we save you some breakfast?”

“No, I’m busy.��

Dean is saying something, but Sam’s not really paying attention. Faith is leaning on the table, bent at the waist, the flannel riding up to expose the lower curve of her ass. Sam turns in his chair to raise an eyebrow at her, pointedly adjusting himself in his jeans. She smirks like the cat who got the cream.

“Just call this number when you need me, Dean,” Sam says abruptly, cutting him off. “See you later.” He hangs up before Dean can get a protest in.

She bats her eyelashes, sugary-sweet. “Sorry, did I distract you?”

“Don’t lie. You’re not sorry at all.” Sam shakes his head, mock-scolding, and gives her a light tap, mostly to watch the way her flesh jiggles just right under his hand.

She grins, wiggling her hips and spreading her legs a little wider. “If you’re gonna do it, do it like you mean it.”

There’s a long, weighted pause.

“Are you asking me for —”

“Fuck yes I am.”

“Faith…”

She’s quiet but sincere when she says, “I trust you.”

Sam exhales sharply, and because she looks nervous, now, he quips, “Should’ve known bacon would do the trick.” She laughs at that and relaxes, so he stands up slowly and asks, “Safeword?”

“Dorchester.”

Sam smiles — equal parts amused by the word choice and touched by the trust. He runs a hand down her back and then up again, taking the soft fabric with him, rucking it up. He takes his time, drawing it out to watch the way she pouts, positioning himself behind her and flattening a palm between her shoulderblades to push her down. She braces herself on her forearms.

“Good girl.”

“Well?”

“Be patient.”

“Fucking hit me already,” she says sulkily.

“You can have anything you want,” he promises her, and he grabs a handful of hair, yanking her head back. “You just have to ask for it. Politely.”

He hears the way she sucks in a breath, ragged and desperate, and he smiles.

“Please spank me. Hard.”

“Good girl,” he repeats. He steps back and squeezes before smacking her, nowhere near hard enough to hurt.

“C’mon, is that the best you’ve got?” she teases, laughing.

“You know it’s not.” He brings his hand down with a satisfying sound, and Faith groans.

“Harder,” she grits out.

The next one makes her cry out, ragged and ecstatic. He hits her again, hard enough that his palm smarts, wrist snapping precisely so that the blows are spaced just right across her ass and her upper thighs.

By the time he pauses again she’s panting harshly. He takes a second to admire her, the pretty shade of red blossoming on her pale skin and the way she’s arching her back, putting herself on display for him.

“Fuck, you look good like this.” He kicks her feet farther apart and traces up her center with two callused fingertips. “So wet already, aren’t you?”

She tries to push back into it, to fuck herself on his fingers as she whimpers, “More?”

He lets loose, brings his palm down with a vicious crack, and he can see the way her legs start to shake.

“Shit, do you have any idea what you do to me?” He leans forward, grinding against her, letting her feel how hard he is through his jeans, and when he pulls back again she moans. Her skin is hot to the touch. He runs his fingers over it teasingly before sliding two fingers into her cunt, curling them, pumping and twisting as Faith curses and clenches around him.

“Need you,” she pants. “More.”

“Let me hear you,” he says. He pulls his fingers out and spanks her again, and she shudders, head bowed, pussy glistening wet.

“Please fuck me,” she breathes. He’s reaching for his belt before she gets the word out.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

He rubs the head of his cock through her slickness, teasing, and when she tries to push back, his shaft slides between her lips, dragging along her clit. He bites back a groan and plants his left hand solidly at the base of her neck, forcing her to drop down with her cheek to the table, holding her in place.

“Shit,” she snaps. “Fuckin’ give it to me.”

“What did I say?”

“Want to feel that big thick cock, please,” she says. He can hear the wicked edge in her voice. “Want to feel you fillin’ me up when I come. Just fucking wreck me, Sam. Hold me down and make me scream… please.” She pauses and then asks smugly, “Fuckin’ polite enough for you?”

She could recite a grocery list in that ragged, raspy voice and it’d probably turn him on, at this point; as it is, he feels dizzy from sudden lack of bloodflow to his brain.

“We gotta work on those manners,” he says softly, and pushes into her, just a couple inches, before sliding out again. She whines.

He does it over and over again — one torturously shallow thrust after another — working her open with little rocking motions that are nowhere near enough. She whimpers, and he watches, clocking every shudder that runs up her spine, every involuntary quiver as he fucks into her a little deeper, slick spreading up the flushed-dark length of his cock with each stroke.

It takes every last shred of his self-control, but he forces himself to move slowly, deliberately, until she’s dripping wet and slamming her fists into the table.

Finally, she caves, sobbing two syllables like they’re the only words she remembers: “Please — Sam — please — Sam — please —”

“That’s better,” he sighs, and grabs her by the hips, shifting until he finds the spot that makes her twitch and squirm. She quakes when he hits it dead-on, and he sets an unrelenting pace, fucking her so hard the table hammers against the wall, a rapid-fire counterpoint to her broken, drawn-out cries.

Faith bucks helplessly as she comes, and Sam lets go a split-second later, half collapsing forward as he grinds into her one last time. He braces himself with both palms flat on the wood, and his knees threaten to give out.

His first coherent thought is amazement that the table is still standing, and while he’s trying to remember how to speak, Faith mumbles, “Shit, can’t believe we haven’t broken any furniture yet.” Sam laughs so unexpectedly he almost chokes, and maybe it’s contagious, because Faith starts giggling too.

Sam maneuvers them onto one of the chairs in a messy pretzel of sweat and skin and half-discarded clothes. A surge of pure giddy affection swells in his ribcage, and he wraps his arms around her, squeezing tight, tickling her with his stubble against her neck until she shrieks and twists.

Faith turns her head at an awkward angle to kiss him. Then she mumbles, “Is there more bacon? I could go for more bacon.”

“Anything you want.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Faith stretches extravagantly as she gets up from the opposite end of the couch, and his flannel slips off her shoulders. She lets it fall as she pads over to the fridge.

“Have I mentioned today how good you look naked?” Sam asks.

She pulls two bottles of beer from the fridge and strikes a goofy, mock-sexy pose. “No, but go right ahead.”

“You look really fucking good naked.”

“Not so bad yourself.” She passes him a bottle and sprawls out with her legs draped across his lap. “Why’d you put your clothes back on, anyway?”

“Hot bacon grease and nudity isn’t a good combo. Trust me.”

“Sounds like the voice of experience talking there.”

“Not personal experience,” Sam says with a smirk. “Dean, though…”

She laughs. He tosses the last bite of bacon at her, and she catches it in her mouth.

“Not cooking any more though, are you?” she asks archly.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He obliges, though, stripping unceremoniously, and Faith catcalls. She crawls into his lap when he sits back down, leaning in for a kiss that tastes like beer.

“Much better,” she says quietly, pressing her forehead to his.

“Really thought I might’ve tired you out there.”

“Honestly? Yeah, I need a minute,” she confesses, with a laugh. “Just wanted some eye candy.”

“At your service.”

She settles a little more comfortably in his lap, straddling him, and they exchange slow, lazy kisses. Sam can’t bring himself to stop kissing her. Her lips are soft and plush, and every brush of her tongue and nip of her teeth feels like a luxury, like something he should treasure, because he knows this intimacy has an expiration date.

They stare at each other for a long moment, sweet and almost shy.

Sam offers, “Want to watch a soap opera on mute and make up our own dialogue?”

Her dimples really show when she’s surprised to find herself smiling. She grabs their beers and the remote from the milk crate that serves as her coffee table, raising her bottle in a toast, and then she curls up at Sam’s side, naked and soft and bruised. She fits under his arm like she was meant to be there.

It’s the happiest Sam can remember being in a long time.

Normal, he thinks. This is what normal people do — breakfast and kisses on the couch — tenderness and softness and quiet everyday vulnerability.

Then again, neither of them are normal, not really. Maybe that’s why Sam feels so comfortable with her.

* * * * * * * * * *

This time, she passes him the shampoo without a word, sighing as he cradles the back of her skull with one hand and smooths the hair back from her forehead with the other. When he’s finished, hazy honey-colored eyes blink up at him slowly, like she’s coming out of a trance. It’s a dizzying change from the last time they did this.

They haven’t said goodbye yet and he already misses her — misses this — but he knows he’s lucky to have it for a moment, however brief.

The scalding water feels like heaven on his sore muscles. Sam tilts his head to the side, trying to stretch, and his neck makes a series of popping noises. Faith winces in sympathy.

“Shit, man,” she chuckles. “You sound like Rice Krispies.” She maneuvers around him in the narrow space, reaching up to dig her knuckles into one of his many knots. Sam groans, exaggeratedly pornographic.

Her hands are small, but strong, and Sam’s melting under her palms, increasingly loose-limbed and pliant as she works her thumbs in circles down the muscles on either side of his spine.

“We should get out of here before I forget how to stand up,” he mutters, and Faith laughs. “I think it’s your turn.”

“I like the sound of that.”

She lays herself out on the bed, stomach down, and Sam takes a moment to stare. The way she’s put together — sleek muscle and lush curves under creamy skin — is like art. If she was anyone else, Sam might call her delicate, but he knows better; he knows exactly what she can do. She’s a hurricane disguised as a porcelain doll.

He looks down at his own rough fingers, thickly callused from pencils and triggers and punches, and grabs a bottle of lotion from the dresser before he settles on the bed, straddling her hips. His hands seem massive on her shoulders, and when he drags his palms down, wrapping his fingers around the slim curve of her waist, he marvels at the way she almost fits in the circle of his grasp.

He loses himself in the pleasure of just touching her — in the glide of silky skin under his fingers — in the soft grunts and hums she lets out when he works his fingers into a particularly tight knot. He sweeps his thumbs down the pretty little dimples at the small of her back and then lower, caressing and kneading. He’s careful to avoid pressing on the dappled purple-red bruises from earlier, but he skims them appreciatively, feather-light.

“Do those hurt?” he whispers.

“Little bit. I like it.”

He was already half-hard, aroused in a distant, lazy sort of way, but his dick twitches at that.

He brushes his fingertips down the outsides of her thighs, then up the insides, watching the way she spreads her legs wider for him, but he stops just short of the apex, tracing out along the creases where her ass meets her legs instead.

This feels like a form of worship.

Sam bends to press his mouth to the small of her back, kissing one dimple then the other. He trails sweet open-mouthed kisses down the curve of her ass, lips dragging reverently over velvety skin, licking and sucking along the tops of her thighs, drinking in the way she whimpers and shivers.

“More?” she murmurs.

Sam hooks an arm around her, sliding his forearm under her hips to cant them up so he can lick a thick stripe right up her center, swiping his tongue down and up again with a slick slurping noise. The angle isn’t comfortable but it’s fucking hot; it feels like he’s completely surrounded by her, like this, and when he licks deeper, fucks her shallowly with his tongue, the taste of her arousal floods his senses, until the soapy-clean smell of freshly-showered skin is lost under salty-sweet musk and Sam’s mouth and chin are a mess of slick and spit.

She’s trembling as she repeats, “More.”

He drags his tongue in one broad swipe from her clit up between her ass cheeks, and she curses, pressing back against his mouth. He twists two fingers into her cunt, feeling her clamp down around his scarred knuckles and shudder under his mouth, a frisson of pleasure that travels all the way up her spine. He curls his tongue against tight muscle and crooks his fingers, circles her swollen clit with his thumb, and she muffles a sharp cry into the pillow as she comes.

“More — please — Sam?” she gasps, still clenching around him, so wet he can hear the sound of his fingers pumping into her one last time.

He slides on top of her, blanketing her body with his, kissing the nape of her neck as he presses into her. She reaches back and fists a hand in his hair, making a rough wordless noise that sounds like a question, and her fingers twist until his scalp stings and Sam groans. He sits up, straddling her legs, and his entire body throbs with the pulse of blood in his cock as he fucks her. With her legs together like this, pinned under him, she feels so impossibly tight — velvety-soft and steely all at once — he can barely see straight.

She’s crying out with every gasping breath: “More — please.”

Sam wonders what he could do if he could learn her body, learn what she likes, learn how to take her apart in seconds or draw it out until she’s a writhing mess… if he had just a little more time with her.

* * * * * * * * * *

Faith is wrecked and gorgeous on top of him, not riding him so much as undulating: deep scooping twists of her hips, rising and falling syrupy-slow like she’s moving underwater. There’s dark sweat-soaked hair clinging to her temples and a hazy-eyed, rosy-cheeked expression of bliss on her face. Sam watches a droplet of sweat trickle down between her breasts.

He’s losing his grip on time and the boundaries that used to sit so decisively between them. They’re both exhausted to the point that everything seems a little surreal, dreamy, right in that sweet spot where they might be too tired to come again but languid, sensual sex still feels amazing.

“So fucking perfect,” he whispers. “Just like that.”

Faith tilts forward to kiss him, melting against his chest as she rolls her hips. He wraps her up in his arms and flips them, still inside her, still twined around her. He rocks into her, testing one angle and then another, hitching her leg up higher around his waist, grinding and swiveling until he finds the angle that makes her choke out a curse and clutch at his biceps.

“There,” she whimpers.

Heat starts to pool low in his gut, building slowly but inevitably. He leans down to kiss her, tasting salt, mouths brushing clumsily between deep ragged breaths.

“Gorgeous like this.”

“Sam,” she says helplessly, in the shredded whisper that’s left of her voice. “This — you —“

“I’ve got you, it’s okay. I know.”

Neither of them are particularly coherent, but he knows.

Gold rays of sun slant through the blinds in stripes, illuminating the amber in her irises and the suspicious shine gathering in the corner of her eyes. She smiles up at him in a way that leaves him breathless. It takes him by surprise, the trust in her expression and the heaviness in the moment, and he knows she can feel it too.

Sam wants to shy away from it, but he can’t take his eyes off her.

“Where’s that Al Green soundtrack when you need it, huh?” she manages, and it shocks a breathless laugh out of Sam. Faith giggles too, choked-up and overtired and hoarse. Sam can feel her laugh, feels the rippling clench of wet-hot muscle around him; his body reacts with this gut-punch of arousal, and he snaps his hips, driving in deep. She lets out a rough moan and writhes under him, raking her nails down his back.

From there it builds fast, wild and uncontrollable and blinding, both of them clawing at each other, moving on pure animalistic instinct, lost in each other — lost in the moment. It’s the sort of orgasm that hits like a blackout, like Sam’s out of his body for a few seconds that might as well be an eternity.

When he comes to, he’s whispering nonsense into the sweat-slick crook of her neck — babbling endearments, calling her baby — saying sweet stupid things she would never accept if she was in her right mind, but she doesn’t argue; he’s grateful. In return, Sam pretends not to notice the tears sparkling in her eyelashes.

They’re not sad tears, he knows that much. She’s beaming up at him, all this messy pure human happiness shining in her eyes. She’s beautiful.

Eventually they stop shaking, and Sam whispers, “Nap?”

“Yeah.”

She tucks herself under his chin, and he strokes her hair, counting the breaths before she drops off. She’s asleep in ten, and Sam loses count at eleven.

* * * * * * * * * *

They’re woken in disorienting darkness by a jangling ringtone, and Sam’s immediate instinct is to grab the gun he keeps under his pillow. There’s no gun, though — just a warm naked girl draped over him, cursing like a sailor as the phone continues to ring — because there’s no need for a gun here.

Faith answers the phone by growling a suggestion that sounds anatomically improbable, and Sam hears Dean’s gruff baritone on the other end. He snatches the phone out of her hand.

“S’the middle of the fucking night, Dean,” he grumbles.

“Dude, it’s nine. When was the last time you were asleep by nine?”

“Fuck.” He knuckles at his eyes and fights the urge to hang up, turn the phone off, and burrow under the sweat-soaked sheets to sleep until he actually feels rested for once. “Yeah, okay, be there soon.”

Sam is about to apologize for waking Faith, but she sits up too, switching on the lamp, looking around bleary-eyed.

“Gonna walk with you as far as the graveyard,” she says, through a yawn. “Vamps don’t take a night off.”

Sam feels like he got hit by a goddamn truck, sore and achy all over, but the exhaustion goes much deeper than that. In spite of it, he’s smiling as they dress.

They’re quiet, nothing but a soft, “You see my other sock?” interrupting the heavy silence. They don’t touch as they leave the dark apartment and head down the dingy stairwell into the warm California night, and they don’t talk. They’re pulling themselves together — rebuilding the walls that separate them from normal people — putting on the emotional armor that allows them to fight the battles they have to fight.

They don’t wander away from the path through the cemetery, this time, and the monsters don’t find them. When they reach the gate on the other side, Faith stops.

“You know how to get back from here?”

“Yeah.” He pulls her in by her jacket to kiss her, deep and bruising.

She pulls away enough to mutter, “Fuckin’ figures you’re from another goddamn universe.”

“If things were different —”

“They’re not, though,” Faith says, smiling ruefully. “And that’s for the best.”

“Probably wouldn’t end well, would it? ”

“We’d never get outta bed, the monsters would take over. Every universe needs its heroes, right?”

“Right.” Sam cradles her face in his hands to give her another soft kiss and says, “Take care of yourself.”

Faith steps back. “Always do.”

She turns, pulling a stake out of her jacket as she stalks away, off the path toward the darker corners of the graveyard. Sam watches her go.

She doesn’t look back, but before she’s out of earshot, she shouts, “Quit starin’ at my ass and go save the world already. You’ve got work to do.”

Sam laughs, and then he rolls his eyes and starts walking, smiling to himself. She’s not wrong.

#1kclassicrockchallenge #sam winchester fic #sam winchester #faith lehane #btvs #spn #supernatural #spn x btvs #supernatural x buffy the vampire slayer #crossover fic #sam winchester x faith lehane

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redhoodssweetheart · 3 years

Text

Star-Crossed Lovers Part Two

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Requested: Yes @sarcasmismyfirstlove

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Swearing, angst, Reader has an assumed name in this (she is not named, but she goes by Sophia Turner since she is in hiding)

Description: Y/N now lives in Metropolis, she likes her life, but she misses the one she lost. Jason has spent eight months trying to find her, but to no avail. Maybe they truly weren’t meant to be.

A/N: I originally wasn’t going to post this part so soon. But I got inspired today and couldn’t stop writing it. I hope y’all enjoy. And please pretend that’s not a notebook for school okay. I’m too lazy to go looking for something new right now.

Her window was open letting in a nice spring breeze. Dinner was cooking in the oven and she was reading over the events from that day. It had been eight months since Y/N had hopped off the bus at the Metropolis station and entered the motel she would be staying at for the next few days. That was when she had found a quaint apartment that would do until she got on her feet.

Her phone buzzed and she looked over at it.

Clark: I need a favor, Sophie.

Sophie. The name she had assumed when she moved to Metropolis. Her full name was Sophia Turner. Sionis was more than likely dead, but Y/N wasn’t taking any chances. She hadn’t stopped looking over her shoulder since that night, and sometimes she would dream that he had found her.

In her dreams sometimes he was torturing her, but sometimes it was Red sitting in that chair. He was begging her to do something while Sionis laughed sadistically and said, “My little puppet ain’t gonna do shit, Red. She used you.”

“No!” Y/N would cry when she registered the betrayal on Red’s face.

She would sit up straight in her bed and gasp before the dream went any further. Most of the time she would look at the clock and see it was still in the early hours of the morning.

Now she was staring at the text from Clark and sighed.

Sophia: I’m listening, but you’ll owe me, Kent.

Clark was a good guy. A little flighty at times, but that was part of his charm. He was the one that had taken the risk on her when she had gone to the Daily Planet trying to get a job. He never abused that either. He was a genuinely good guy, something that had unnerved Y/N at first, but now she was grateful for it.

Clark: I’m supposed to be meeting with Lex Luthor tomorrow to ask him about the Superboy project, but I’m needed elsewhere. Sort of a family emergency. Do you think you can cover for me with Lex?

Lex was Metropolis’s biggest asshole. And she could eat him for breakfast.

Sophia: Sure thing. Need me to water your plants while you’re away?

Clark: Please? I’ll leave the key to my place in my top desk drawer, just pick it up tomorrow when you come in. You’re a lifesaver, Sophie.

A lifesaver…. Sure.

Jason came home to the manor at least once a week for a good home cooked meal and so he wouldn’t be alone at the safehouse. He hadn't returned to the one that he and Y/N had always frequented. He couldn’t, she was still haunting the place. Tonight however when he entered the manor he heard Dick and Tim arguing.

“You need to tell him,” Dick hissed. “He deserves to know the truth.”

“No, I made a promise to her that I wouldn’t,” Tim spat back. “Plus I haven’t even found Sionis yet. How would it look if Red Hood showed up in a city other than Gotham? Sionis knows about them, and Y/N would be compromised.”

Jason’s breath hitched at the sound of her name. Tim knew? Tim knew and hadn’t told Jason anything.

He threw open the door so hard that it let a dent in the wall, Dick cringed knowing that Alfred was going to be mad at that. Tim looked coolly at Jason, unbothered by the display. “Where is she, Replacement?”

“Who?”

Jason was starting to see red. “You know damn well who. Y/N. Where is she? What the fuck did you do?”

Dick came over to Jason and put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, but it was roughly tossed off by Jason, “Jay--”

“Don’t,” he snapped, his gaze going to Dick. “Don’t you dare. Tim knows something and I want to know what it is.”

Bruce entered the kitchen, having heard the raucous that his boys were causing. “Tim, Dick, I need a moment alone with Jason.” They nodded and swiftly made their exit. Bruce leaned against the counter, “Y/N’s story about how she came to work with Sionis was true.” Jason looked at Bruce confused. “Except I met her a month before she met you.”

“What?” Jason’s tone relayed the shock he felt.

Bruce closed his eyes, “She got mixed up with the wrong people because of her boyfriend and after Sionis killed him he kidnapped her and forced her to take on the role as a bodyguard. Commissioner Gordon came to me with a note from an anonymous source from someone in Sionis’s organization telling him to send the Bat to a certain location. I met with Y/N and she told me that she wanted out, that she didn’t want to be payment for her ex’s misdeeds. She fed me information and in exchange I promised to set her free.”

“So you knew that she was going to fake her death this entire time?!” Jason’s anger was returning. He had spent the last eight months agonizing over where she could be, turning over every stone only to come up with a dead end. And this entire time Bruce had known it was a ploy all along.

“Yes, but didn’t know the two of you had been involved. She never disclosed that to me, and I didn’t expect her to tell me things she did in her free time.” Bruce looked regretful, “Jason, I think you were the only normal relationship in her life and I think you brought her some semblance of happiness.”

“Apparently not enough to tell me the plan,” he said bitterly.

Bruce pulled something from his pocket and passed it over to Jason, “It’s from her. I don’t know where it came from, but if I had to guess I wouldn’t be able to figure it out either. I haven’t read it, but maybe she will answer some of your questions.” With that, Bruce took his leave.

Dear Red,

By now you probably know that I’m not dead. Maybe you even know that I met with Batman a month before I ever even met with you. That was purely coincidental. I didn’t plan on things progressing like they did between us. It made my job a whole hell of a lot more complicated that it needed to be. And for what it’s worth I’m sorry for how it all went down, but Red, I hope you understand that I couldn’t tell you. That was just not an option.

I’m somewhere safe for now. I have been for awhile, just blending in and living my life to the fullest that I can. I hope you’re doing well too and not getting too many bullet wounds. Who’s going to patch you up now that I’m not there :p

He chuckled at the little hand drawn face.

I do miss you, Red. Our banter. Your kisses. How you made me feel normal for a few hours a night. Even with the mask on I could still pretend we were just two average people living our lives.

We were dealt a shitty hand, and as I told you that night we truly are just star-crossed lovers. I’ll see you in the next life, Red. Maybe that one will be kinder to us, and maybe I can finally see what color your eyes are. Can I tell you what color I think they are? Blue, I always imagined you had the prettiest shade of blue eyes. Like the sky on a summer day. Cloudless and beautiful.

I need to cut this short before I start crying on the page. Take care of yourself, Red. I’ll be waiting for you at the River Styx or maybe you’ll be waiting for me. And I’ll finally know your real name and what color your eyes truly are.

Goodbye, Red.

Y/N

Jason stared at your name signed at the bottom for the longest time and finally when he tore his eyes away from it, he neatly folded it and put it back in the envelope. He then headed up to his room and stored the letter in one of his drawers, not wanting anyone to disturb it.

The Daily Planet was bustling when Y/N arrived to work the following morning. Clark - who was usually in before her - was nowhere to be seen. She hadn’t expected to see him, but it was still weird.

Wandering over to his desk she found the key like he had promised and stuck it in her pocket before heading to her own desk and preparing for the meeting with Lex. Lois stopped by her desk to say good morning and chit chat for a few minutes before going to work on her own assignments. Around ten thirty Y/N headed out to LexCorp.

“Mr. Kent was supposed to be interviewing Mr. Luthor,” the receptionist said.

Y/N kept the forced smile on her face, “Yes, that’s true, but Mr. Kent unfortunately had an emergency that has taken him out of the city and he asked me to fill in.” She showed the receptionist her credentials. “I am more than qualified to handle the interview today.”

“It’s fine Lacy,” a new voice added and Y/N turned to see Lex standing there with a smile on his face. “I was alerted of the change last night, Mr. Kent was nice enough to email me and let me know. Miss Turner, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You too, Mr. Luthor,” she responded. As she made to leave the receptionist area she shot a scathing look at the girl behind the desk who was frowning. She probably thought Y/N was some groupie waiting to throw herself at Lex.

As if.

The two of them made it into Lex’s office and he offered her something to drink. “Water, coffee, tea? Just say the word and I can have it here for you immediately.”

“No thank you, I’m quite all right,” the quicker that she could get this interview over the better. She got her recorder set up and looked to Lex, “Clark informed me that he was going to be talking to you about the Superboy project, is that correct?”

“Yes it is, everyone has been dying to know more about the program,” he responded. “The world needed a Superman, as I’m sure you’re aware Superman was thought to be dead there for a good while.”

Y/N had known that, although she had been in Gotham at the time more concerned with her own welfare than that of a superhero that had supposedly died. “I am, so you decided to respond and give Metropolis hope then? That is what Superman represents, is it not?”

There was a shift in Lex’s smile that Y/N picked up on, but she wasn’t going to push him on it. He apparently had a dislike of Superman, but if he didn’t like him then why create a clone? “Yes it is, and yes I wanted to give this city some hope that everything was going to be okay. That LexCorp would make sure that while the big, bad Superman was away I would be the one to look after us.”

Y/N hummed, “Mr. Luthor, how long have you been working on this project? This doesn’t seem like an overnight solution and you seemed to unveil it fairly quickly?”

“Are you trying to insinuate something, Miss Turner?” Lex’s eyes narrowed.

Y/N’s smile turned predatory, “No sir, just merely asking some questions. I wondered how something as complex as replicating Superman’s powers took place so quickly. And how? How did you replicate Superman’s powers?”

“I had some of Superman’s DNA on hand, a gift from the Man of Steel himself,” Lex replied coolly.

Hardly, Y/N thought. She knew how these heroes worked, their identities were pivotal in maintaining some semblance of a normal life outside of hero hours. There was no way that Lex had legally obtained that DNA sample he claimed to have gotten from Superman. “It sounds like you and Superman are close, would you say that the two of you are friends?”

“Oh yes,” Lex matched her smile as if trying to intimidate her. What he didn’t know is she had been around some of the worst Gotham had to offer and he didn’t frighten her in the slightest. “We were very close.”

“You must have been crushed when everyone thought that he had died.” She saw through his smile and the lies. Superman and Lex weren’t close, but he wasn’t going to say that in something that would be printed in the Daily Planet.

“I was, it was like losing an old friend,” Lex rested a hand over his chest for dramatic effect.

Before she could ask her next question they heard someone saying, “Sir, sir you can’t go in there.”

The door to Lex’s office opened and revealed Bruce Wayne. Y/N had never had the pleasure of meeting him when she had lived in Gotham. She hadn’t run in those circles, but she would know the billionaire anywhere. “Lex, we need to speak now.” His gaze landed on her and she froze. For the first time in a while she felt exposed under the intense look he was giving her.

“Could it wait, Bruce,” Lex forced out. “I am in a meeting with the lovely Miss Sophia Turner here.”

Y/N turned to Lex, still feeling the weight of Bruce’s stair on her back as she did so, “It’s all right, Mr. Luthor. You seem to have some important business to attend to right now. Thank you for your time. The article should be out by Friday if all goes well. Email me with any other information you can disclose about the Superboy project that would be pertinent for the article. Have a nice day,” then she fled as quickly as she could.

Bruce watched Y/N flee the office. Sophia Turner, huh? He wasn’t surprised to find her living under an assumed name. He looked to Lex who was glaring at him, “Did I interrupt something?”

Lex’s eyes narrowed, “You damn well know you did. Now what do you want?”

“You have a leak,” Bruce said, causing Lex’s face to pale.

Y/N made it back to her desk without any other blasts from her past and she began to go over the information she had from her interview and checked her email to see that Lex’s assistant had sent over any other relevant information she would need to type up the remaining gaps.

A few hours later she was closing up shop and heading to Clark’s to make sure his plants didn’t die. As she moved down the sidewalk her mind drifted to thoughts of Red Hood, wondering what he was up to and if he were okay. She also wondered if he had gotten her letter yet or if maybe he had thrown it out the moment he knew that it was from her.

She wouldn’t blame him if he had.

As she continued down the street she accidentally bumped into someone. She stumbled for a moment and looked up as she said, “Sorry.” When her eyes met his, she was shocked to find the prettiest blue she had ever seen.

He smiled at her, “It’s all right. Have a good evening.” Then he was sidestepping her and going about his business. She watched him go, wondering why he seemed so familiar to her.

And those eyes.

Like the sky on a summer day. Cloudless and beautiful.

#Jason Todd x Reader #Jason Todd x Fem!Reader #Jason Todd x Reader angst #Jason Todd #Jason Todd fanfic #Jason Todd fanfiction #Jason Todd angst #Requested

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me4ml · 3 years

Note

Why don't you like Maribat? Why do you think it's a spite or salt ship?

This is presumably because of my Adrigaminette post or the whole Maribat being on the ship list thing.

Quick disclaimer: if you read/ship/write/like Maribat, cool! This is not an attack. This is me answering why I, personally, do not like it. It’s tagged anti, and salt, so it should be filtered. Please don’t harass me over it.

Another note before we start: a lot of what I’m about to write is based on what I’ve read, fic wise or meta, and I blocked off the Maribat tag and fandom a long time ago. It may have changed over there-I doubt it, and I have zero desire to go and look-but this is based on what I’ve seen and read about.

There are, principally, three reasons I can’t stand Maribat, why I think it’s a spite/salt ship.

1). I don’t like Damian Wayne.

2). I don’t like how Damian and the DCU are written in Maribat.

3). Maribat is a mutated salt fic.

If you want to see my reasons why, the rest is under the read more.

1). I don’t like Damian Wayne.

Damian’s not just my least favorite Robin, ranking behind any of the others who have born the name. He’s my least favorite Batfam sidekick overall.

Part of this is his introduction, where he’s a violent, murderous, arrogant, entitled, snotty little brat of a thug. Lest we forget, one of his first acts is to go out, kill a guy, cut off his head, stuff a grenade into the decapitated head’s mouth, and try to blow up Tim. This is his introduction! There are a number of other occasions, including how he treats Jon, his best friend, and the rest of his siblings.

Another part is that he believes that he deserves to be Robin simply because he’s Bruce’s son, and therefore has the blood right to be Robin, to become Batman, and damn anyone else, who are all pretenders. Doesn’t matter that those characters might have a right to become Robin, or the future Batman, he’s the bio son, he deserves it!

Additionally, Damian feels.....not unnecessary, but repetitive, in his actions/characterization. There are other characters who can perform pretty much the same way for whatever storyline is necessary, without including Damian.

Trained by an abusive family to be the best, as an assassin and warrior? Cassandra.

A killer who breaks the main rule of his mentor, which causes tension and strain in the family? Jason.

Incredibly intelligent and talented? Tim.

Damian isn’t unique in what he does, and while that can make him an interesting character, it can also make the focus on him unnecessary.

As well, so much of Damian’s actions and motivations feels like he gets away with stuff, in-universe, because he’s Bruce’s biological son, and so Bruce gives him too much slack, and out-universe, because the writers let him/the fans will defend him. He gets woobified, or leather pantsed. Which leads to:

2). I don’t like how Damian and the DCU are written for Maribat.

For all his (numerous) faults, when written well, Damian can be an interesting character. For example: How does he deal with being deeply insecure? By putting on a mask of arrogance and overconfidence.

Some more examples: How does Damian act like an actual child, when he’s never had a childhood? How can he be a hero, if he’s been trained to be a killer? Can he ever catch up to his siblings, or will he feel like they’re always better than him?

Damian’s sense of being Batman’s son, of being the heir to the Cowl, slams right up against the idea of the Batfam: that there are people who have just as much of a right to call Batman their father/father figure, people who are just as talented and skilled and capable as Damian himself is, if not more. Watching Damian develop, when he’s written right, is actually enjoyable; mainly because when it’s done right, it shows Damian actually progressing and growing, becoming more of a person, with friends and interests. Most times, seeing Damian with his pets can be adorable, same with when he hangs out with Jon.

Is he still a brat? Still sometimes a bit too much of a Demon, an al-Ghul? Yes, but that’s always going to be part of him, and as long as he’s shown to try and grow, or gets called out on that, it’s less of an issue (There’s a completely different rant to be written about how DC likes to chuck character development or backstory into the trash when it suits them for a new run. Damian gets hit with this, as does Tim, or they get handed the idiot/conflict ball, but not the space for it).

Maribat hurls this all out the window. Damian’s bad traits are all “fixed” offscreen-he’s developed, matured, gotten better, whatever you want to call it. It’s basically a writer’s hand wave to make Damian into the character who will be the lead of the story, perfectly suited for his main role of being Marinette’s boyfriend and utterly devoted to her every whim and will. He’s enchanted by her at first glimpse, and defends her against everyone who hates her, because no one can understand her like he can!

Uh, what? This is not Damian Wayne. Even at his best, he’s no broody boy, pulled from his “dark path” by the love of a gentle girl. He’s a Jerk with a Heart of Gold-emphasis on the Jerk. There’s a reason his nickname usually involves “Demon.” Is Damian trying to get better? Yes. But even then, he’s not the type to immediately fall in love. He takes a while to warm up to people, for them to earn his trust, and Marinette would not be like that?

Let’s say that Robin is in Paris for a case, he runs into Ladybug and Chat, and after they explains what’s going on, Robin gives them a stare over his mask, and goes “TT! What a worthless hero, I would have caught him already.” LB and Chat would probably want to deck him, and that’s before he keeps talking.

Same with if Damian transfers to the class, or they meet on a field trip to Gotham. Damian’s not gonna care about some random French teenagers on a tour, or if he was transferred he’s gonna be trying to figure out why his father sent him to Paris, and be focused on the mission, not making friends.

Of all of the Robins, the ones that would be the most likely to capture Marinette’s interest would be Dick or Tim, not Damian. He would remind her too much of Chloe, as Damian, and as Robin, he would be dismissive of Ladybug’s abilities, which would absolutely piss her, and Chat Noir, off.

In characters that aren’t Damian, no one seems to be written properly over in Maribatland. One huge example is that Marinette is so beloved, so pure, that she can make any character fall in love with her, and reform by her pure goodness, including a fic where the Joker-THE JOKER!-becomes her “Uncle J,” and pranks Lila on her behalf.

Uh-huh. Sure. Completely and totally something that one of the biggest, most sadistic twisted, notorious villains in pop culture would do. Maribat winds up worshipping the ground that Marinette walks on, cause she’s “Teh best evar!”

Which then leads to my third and final point:

3). The whole Maribat concept is a mutated salt fic.

Most of the themes you’ll find in Maribat? You will find in nearly every salt fic.

Maybe my biggest issue with the whole Maribat idea is that it doesn’t feel like a proper crossover, which, at their best, explore how characters from one universe and their rules would interact with characters from another universe, and the rules of that one. Putting ML and DC together is a rich opportunity to play with concepts in both worlds!

And yet, it’s mainly used to bash ML characters who the writers despise, predominantly Adrien, Alya, and Lila, with members of the class thrown in depending on feeling, and potentially even Marinette’s parents! The only “good” ML characters are the ones who are on Marinette’s side, usually Luka, Kagami, a Chloe who for some reason has been redeemed and is now Marinette’s best friend, and whatever members of the class the writer decides to throw in there.

You’ll notice it’s not called “MiracuBat”, or LadyBat and Bat Noir-it’s MariBat. It’s meant as a focus on Marinette, making her-the hero of the Miraculous Ladybug franchise, someone in-story in story who is incredibly smart and talented and the leader of her team, future Guardian-even more awesome.....by beating down everyone else around her.

Marinette is simultaneously treated as an beaten-up, beaten-down walked-on carpet, and the best person to ever exist ever, go who only needs a group of new, different, better people to recognize that and save her from the clutches of those greedy and ungrateful assholes! That doesn’t include the fics where she’s the unknown child of a superhero or supervillain, making her even more special.

It’s Chameleon salt, class salt, with pointy ears and a cape on.

Some specific examples.

Adrien: Adrien is a spineless doormat who prioritizes Lila over Marinette, or an entitled bastard sexual harasser, only fixated on Ladybug, or even both. Sometimes it’ll get worse, as Adrien will threaten or abandon Marinette if she steps off of his “high road,” and Chat will be a budding rapist, stalking or capturing Marinette after he’s learned she’s Ladybug, while ignoring her prior to that. He will, of course, have his ring stripped and handed off to Damian, who is the “true” soul of Destruction and so therefore a “perfect match” to Marinette’s Creation soul. Occasionally it will be Jason, or Tim, or Dick, but the key thing is that it’s not Adrien!

While Damian’s issues are magically fixed, Adrien gets no such courtesy. Adrien has been abused, just like Damian, and while Damian’s abuse is more extensive and extreme, abuse is abuse. If anything, if Damian met Adrien, he would probably see another abused kid, and want to be his friend/have his “adopt stray person!” Instincts go off. I can much more imagine Damian dragging a bewildered Adrien into the Batcave and yelling “Father I’ve found another one for you to adopt!” than I can Damian immediately hating Adrien, or Chat, simply for breathing.

We never see Clark taking Adrien under his wing, or Bruce, or any of the other Batfam; nor any of the other Justice Leaguers. We never see Selina try to fight Bruce over the kid, because he’s cat-themed, and Selina can train him, this one’s hers Bat, get off!

Adrien’s never treated as a kid, or given actual development. A major complaint among salters is that Adrien is treated as perfect and never develops, and in fic, rather than developing him, Adrien either remains static, with his flaws narratively exploded, or is developed negatively. He’s there to be beaten up on and punished by the writers, if not actually physically beaten up by characters in the fic.

Alya: the not-so-good friend, the cheap excuse for a journalist, the awful person who abandons Marinette for Lila and her “connections.” Never mind that Alya was Marinette’s friend from the beginning, or that Marinette’s chosen her multiple times for a Miraculous. One instance of questioning Marinette about Lila, and Alya’s a backstabbing bitch.

Maribat treats Alya as neglectful, bossy, domineering and submissive at the same time to Marinette and Lila respectively, and as a journalist, the worst of the worst. She’s played as a two-bit paparazzo, and once again, the DCU is used to punish her. We don’t see Alya get mentored by Lois or Clark-indeed, if they notice her, it’s with disdain or disappointment. Often, they’re crushing her under their heel, calling her not only a bad journalist, but a bad friend/person. This forgetting, of course, that Alya runs her blog as a hobby so far, she’s only a teenager, and that she’s had Marinette’s back against Chloe and Lila.

The Class: the dupes or allies as needed. Class salt levels depend on what the writer needs. If they’re pro-class, they’re all on Marinette’s side, aside from Alya Adrien and Lila. Chloe, for some ungodly reason, is “redeemed” nigh instantaneously, and often will become Marinette’s best friend, if that isn’t Kagami already. Kagami will drop Adrien like a wet tissue, never trying to reconcile him with the clas, or encourage him to stand up for himself, or if she does, Adrien, of course, will not listen.

If the writer is anti-class, whoo boy. Openly mentally, emotionally, physically abusive to Marinette, the worst gang of people you would ever have the displeasure of meeting, they all need to be in Arkham.

We never see any of the class make friends with the Batfam, the Titans, Young Justice-unless they’re on Marinette’s side, of course. There’s no Alix stopping Selina at the Louvre, for instance, or Max hanging out with Babs. It’s all based on how Marinette is treated as to whether or not the class is portrayed as being worse than the worst of the Rogues Gallery.

Wrapping it all up, Maribat has made me dislike the entire concept of a DC/ML crossover.

Even if someone had written an non-salt, in-character crossover, I don’t know if I would read it, simply because the well has been that poisoned.

#anti maribat #anti maridami #anti daminette #maribat salt #daminette salt #maridami salt #anti damian wayne #Damian Wayne salt #ml fandom salt #anonymous #ask answered #long post

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blitzturtles · 3 years

Text

Title: Freezing

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: DCU / DC Comics

Pairing(s): JayTim w/ Batfam

Summary: “He’s in DKA.”

“He’s what?”

“Diabetic ketoacidosis. It’s-”

“I know what it is,” Jason says a little too quickly, but he doesn’t understand. Can’t wrap his head around what it means in this particular situation. “He has a pump. You got him a pump.”

Notes: For my 100th fic on Ao3, I thought I'd go back to the beginning. What got me back into writing: DC Comics and the Batfam.

Also, full credit to my wife (@sexyvanillatiger) for not only beta reading this thing, but also helping me with the information on DKA and rewriting several bits of the story to make it work.

For the record, this is an extremely unlikely scenario that most people with an insulin pump won't have to worry about. It has more to do with Tim's particular style of pump originally being one with an external catheter, as well as his being a) underdressed for the weather and b) out for far too long in said weather.

I will say that, though it is unlikely, pump failure due to freezing temperatures has happened, so please be mindful when you're out and about!

It’s three in the morning and freezing, and the last thing Jason expects is to hear Dick’s voice ring through the comm in his ear while he’s midair, between the end of one building and the beginning of the next. He’s busy, very nearly disconnects on the spot given the mood he’s in, but Dick seems to sense the impending end of the conversation.

“Wait!”

“What do you want, Nightwing?” He grinds the name out with far too much disdain. It’s not Dick’s fault that he’s in a bad mood.

“It’s Tim. He’s-”

Truth be told, Jason hears nothing after that. After ‘Tim’. Not Red Robin, not Red, not even Babybird. No, just Tim.

“Shit!” He very nearly goes careening off the side of the next building with the abrupt shift in his momentum and the loss of focus. There’s ice clinging to every other surface, which wouldn’t be a problem if he weren’t distracted. He can hear Dick’s frantic voice on the other end of the comm, but he can’t bring himself to care enough to explain.

“Where is he?” Jason demands once he’s regained his footing and has a moment to school his tone into something near neutral.

“That’s the thing. We don’t know. He-”

“What do you mean, ‘We don’t know’? What the fuc-”

“He missed his last check-in,” Dick finishes, unphased by the interruption.

“How long?” Jason asks, barely noticing how his voice shakes.

“Only twenty minutes, but-”

“But he’s working on a goddamn human trafficking ring, and it’s fucking freezing,” Jason finishes. He doesn’t need Dick to explain to him why twenty minutes is suddenly a big deal and not Tim losing track of time. “What about his tracker?”

“He turned it off after his last contact. We’re not sure why, but Oracle is working on pinning down possible locations based on his last. Look, B’s- Anyway, he doesn’t know I’m getting you involved, but you know that side of Gotham better than any of us,” at least on practical experience. Jason has spent months blending into the crowds in the past, as much as he hated every second of it.

“That’s just great, Dickie,” to hell with codenames. And to hell with his helmet. He tugs it off his head and tosses it at the nearest surface. The damn thing doesn’t so much as crack from the impact, but he can breathe again.

For a moment, he forgets that he has a secondary comm in his ear, which is why he flinches when Dick speaks again, “You also know Babybird better than any of us. I was just- hoping, I guess, that you would have a better idea once Oracle came up with her list.”

“Yeah, yeah, send it my way, will you? And his last location. Whatever files the computer has. I want all of it.”

“Done.”

Jason scoops his helmet off the ground and secures it in place again. No time to waste now. He starts shifting through the information the moment Dick sends it over. There are names that he recognizes. Places that he’s been too. Clubs that he’s spent the wee hours of the morning pretending to get plastered in, while flirting with the sort of men he’d happily put a bullet in any other time (for several of them, he had). But none of it tells him where Tim might be now, or why he thought going AWOL was some brilliant idea.

And here’s the thing, Jason’s in the mood he’s in because of this whole human trafficking bullshit. He knows Tim’s been working on it for the last few weeks, though Jason only found out about it in the last couple of days. Probably because Tim’s smart enough to know that Jason doesn’t want any of them so directly involved in that shit, least of all Tim. But there’s no stopping his-- he still doesn’t know when Tim went from ‘the’ to ‘his’-- Replacement when he gets an idea in his head.

It brings Jason no comfort to know that the temperature outside is frigid. He can feel it sink into his bones, despite the warmth of his suit. Technology can only get them so far without impacting agility, and Tim is a lot like Dick in that he likes to fly through the air, unhindered.

Dick passes Oracle’s findings over a few minutes later, when Jason’s already halfway to Tim’s last location. He’s on his bike. Going on foot would take too long, and they’ve already lost-- fuck-shit, thirty-two minutes now.

He tears through all the clubs in the area. Takes out more kneecaps than he has in months, but it doesn’t get him anywhere. The rooftops don’t help either. The advantage is lost when tracking a fellow Bat. Tim moves with purpose, and he does it without leaving a trace.

At least until Jason stumbles into an alley by sheer luck. One that could be in disarray for any reason, but he catches sight of a Batarang. It’s surface glints off the streetlight behind him. There’s no blood. No fibers stuck to it. It looks like it’s been dropped more than thrown, and he doesn’t know what to make of that, but his stomach is turning painfully.

Something is definitely wrong; he just doesn’t know what.

Dick chirps updates in his ear. Brief lines of information; none of it useful. The rest of them are having as much (or less) luck as he is, though he doesn’t immediately report his findings. It could be something; then again, it could be nothing, and they don’t need to all bunge together just to step on each others’ toes with no chance of finding Tim before someone or something gets to him.

The next three alleys look similar to the first in that they could all but in the state that they are because they’re part of the seedier night scene of Gotham, but something about them rings wrong in Jason’s head. There’s a garbage bag that’s strewn across the asphalt, like someone knocked it over rather than it having been pushed or thrown, and eerie signs of a scuffle that don’t look right either. There’s no blood and no sign of reciprocation. Only the snowy remains of a chaotic waltz littered throughout.

And that’s when he all but stumbles into a body. Curled and small with lips that are too close to blue and a face that’s ashen white.

Jason’s on his knees in an instant, calling Tim’s name-- Red? Robin? Drake, he hisses the last one in barely a whisper, but none of them yield results. Tim stays there, unmoving. His chest barely moves, but the bizarre part is how there doesn’t seem to be any injuries besides a trickle of blood that might be coming from Tim’s temple. His suit is otherwise intact, and who would leave a Bat incapacitated without finishing the job? Around here, not a single bastard.

He’s lifting Tim up before he can think to call for help. He carries him back to his bike and manages to maneuver them both onto the seat. He keeps Tim in front of him, awkward as it is, with one arm hooked around the limp body. The only saving grace in the moment is how goddamn small Tim is.

“Nightwing,” he calls as he starts the bike. “Cave, now.” He severs the connection before Dick has a chance to respond.

By the time he gets to the Cave, his heart is pounding away in his chest. Tim still hasn’t woken up. Still hasn’t so much as shifted in his unconscious state, and Jason is getting frantic. More and more terrified with each passing second, and it’s all he can do to keep one foot in front of the other when he pulls to a stop and gets Tim in his arms once again.

The face that greets him isn’t Dick’s, but Bruce’s, and Jason’s too afraid to give a shit. Too out of his depth. He can stitch wounds and even remove bullets, but he doesn’t know what’s wrong with Tim or how to fix it. He’s completely at Bruce’s mercy, and that would ordinarily piss him off, but, right now? He can feel wetness build in his eyes and his voice shakes as he looks at Bruce with desperation.

“Please,” he begs, knowing that he doesn’t have to, but unable to stop himself anyways.

Bruce doesn’t miss a beat. He’s already reaching for Tim, and it feels like someone pulling the rug from underneath Jason’s feet the moment his arms are empty again. There’s nothing keeping him steady, keeping him moving forward. At least not until Bruce glances back over his shoulder and calls,

“Jason.”

Jason scrambles forward, falling in after Bruce, and he feels all of about twelve years old again, following behind the Bat’s massive silhouette without question.

Alfred meets him in the infirmary, and the two make quick work of stripping Tim out of his suit. It would be impressive, considering the security measures, if Jason were able to take the time to appreciate anything, but he’s too wrapped up in his ever growing anxiety. The more skin that becomes visible, the more alarmed they all become. There’s no bruising, no blood. No explanation.

They start him on fluids for lack of anything else to do, and there is a minor contusion on the side of Tim’s head that indicates that he must have hit it at some point, but it's apparent to Jason-- the way it is to Bruce and Alfred-- that the trauma happened as Tim hit the ground and not as the result of someone getting the better of him.

“Oh,” Alfred breathes, and two pairs of blue eyes snap in his direction. He’s holding a strip of paper-- the results of his blood test-- with a frown etched into his features.

Bruce reaches out, and Alfred passes them over wordlessly. He moves around the infirmary in a flurry, gathering supplies with renewed purpose. For some reason, it only makes Jason’s heart beat that much harder in his chest.

“What is it?”

“He’s in DKA.”

“He’s what?”

“Diabetic ketoacidosis. It’s-”

“He does, and I did,” Bruce agrees with a grunt. It’s clear that he’s just as lost as Jason, but he doesn’t have the chance to say anything else before Alfred is calling him over, leaving Jason to stew on the information and watch from the sidelines because diabetic complications are definitely outside of his scope of practice.

He feels useless. Beyond, even, and he can’t stop looping back to the pump. That’s the whole reason Tim has it. So he can patrol without complications. He remembers the excitement when Tim first got it. All the information he had to absorb as part of being approved in the first place. He’s been stable on the damn thing for months. So why is his blood sugar through the roof?

It feels like hours until Alfred lets them know that Tim’s responding to treatment-- which includes a complicated setup of three different bags of fluids that Jason couldn’t identify for the life of him-- and beginning to improve. Jason doesn’t know how much time has actually passed, but he’s been in his head the whole of it, replaying the same questions and spiralling down the same, horrific scenarios. His cheeks itch with the feeling of dried tears, though he doesn’t know when he started crying (or when he stopped, for that matter).

He sits beside Tim diligently, despite his exhaustion, and holds his smaller hand in both of his own. It’s the only thing keeping him grounded, especially as everyone else comes and goes. Alfred never goes far, though Bruce disappears entirely to do god knows what. Dick hugs him, but he’s smart enough to keep his thoughts to himself. Damian’s about as comforting as he never is, but the worry is apparent in his eyes, even as he insists that Tim’s situation is more of a nuisance than anything else.

Cass stops by before Stephanie. A quiet presence that actually soothes Jason’s nerves, only to be followed by a quiet that sets them alight. Stephanie is rarely so subdued, but she disappears quickly, evidently unable to handle just standing there. She mutters something about finishing the job. It would concern Jason more if he weren’t already certain that none of them were going to be able to fly under Bruce’s radar for a bit.

Speaking of, Bruce announces his return by not-so-gently placing something on the little metal cart by Tim’s bed. It takes Jason a moment to recognize it as Tim’s pump, though it’s been pulled apart and now sits in multiple pieces.

“What-”

“It froze,” Bruce says before Jason can continue.

“What?” Jason repeats.

They can freeze? Is that something they knew? Why the hell hadn’t Tim taken precautions going out into sub-zero temperatures?

“Not the whole pump. This,” Bruce traces the remains of the clear tubing that typically goes from the pump to the injection point that sits under Tim’s skin. The line, itself, usually sits on Tim’s hip. “The catheter. The vial has enough insulin in it that it would have been fine, if not for this and the weather.”

“Why-?” Jason can’t finish the question. Doesn’t know what he means to ask in the first place, but Bruce doesn’t hesitate to answer,

“He didn’t know. Neither did I, for that matter. It never occurred to any of us.”

Oh.

Jesus.

Tim could have died, and not one of them would have realized why until it was too late.

“From what I can find, it’s not typically a concern,” Bruce goes on, though Jason’s only half listening. He supposes that makes sense, though, considering most people aren’t spending hours in the cold. He wonders how long Tim had been struggling. Alone and dazed and stumbling over his feet. That explains the condition of the alley. There really hadn’t been any fights. Just Tim, grabbing at anything and everything.

“If I had to guess,” and Bruce doesn’t look happy with the idea of not knowing, “He turned his tracker off in confusion.” Possibly while trying to call for help, he doesn’t say, and it makes Jason sick to think about.

“That shouldn’t fucking happen,” Jason snaps, less at Bruce and more at the universe.

“I know,” Bruce answers when the universe remains as silent as ever, “Lucius is working on it now. We’ve already discussed the possibility of adding a second, remotely activated tracker.” All of their trackers can be remotely activated, unless they’re turned off. Having a second just means that they would have a backup should anything happen to the original.

“Good,” Jason says, for lack of anything else to say. He finds some comfort in the idea, but it doesn’t exactly make him feel better now. Particularly not when Tim is without a pump entirely, which means they’re back to constant checks and needle drawn injections, both of which he knows Tim hates. Both of which interfere with Tim’s ability to patrol for any extended period of time.

“Tim will be alright,” Bruce tells him in a tone that’s entirely too gentle to be coming out of his mouth, “Alfred says his numbers are looking better.”

“Yeah,” Jason’s mouth feels dry, and he feels his eyes burning. He works his jaw a few times to try to regain control. He doesn’t need to cry a second time, not when everything’s fine now. Tim will wake up in a bit, probably feeling like shit, but he’ll be alive.

“He’s alright,” Bruce reiterates as he crouches in front of Jason and tugs him forward. Jason doesn’t resist, allows himself to be maneuvered until his head is pressed into Bruce’s shoulder.

Neither move for what seems like an eternity, but Jason finally breaks the contact and wipes as subtly as he can at his eyes while looking Tim over. “He’s going to hate using needles again.”

“He should have a new pump before the end of the day tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Jason breathes, “He’ll- thanks.”

It doesn’t fix the current problem with the cold, but there are measures they can take against that. Measures that Tim won’t like, but it will be better for him to have his pump so that he doesn’t have to draw up his insulin, which, from what Jason understands, is less accurate than the pump anyways.

Bruce hums his response before opening his mouth to add, “You should go get washed up. Or changed, at least.”

Says the man still wearing his giant Bat suit, but Jason doesn’t feel like starting an argument for no reason when he’s still on edge. “You gonna stay here?”

“Of course. I’ll be here until you get back.”

“Okay,” thank you.

“Take your time,” you’re welcome.

______

By the time Jason showers, changes into some of the clothes kept in the dresser of his old room, and makes it back down to the Cave, Tim is still out, though there’s finally some color in his cheeks. A nice little dusting of pink that makes him look alive, and his lips are slowly beginning to regain some color, too.

“Alfred just came by,” Bruce says when he sees Jason, “He says that Tim should wake up soon.”

“Good,” Jason says, voicing the most subdued version of what’s going on in his head.

After too long, or maybe too short of a pause, Bruce says, “I need to get to work on a few things. Will you be alright?”

Jason has to brush away his immediate irritation (of course Bruce needs to do shit while another one of his kids is recovering from a near death experience; what else would he be doing?) and remind himself that Bruce has spent the better part of the last forty minutes sitting with Tim. That might as well be a lifetime in Bat years. Jason rarely sees Bruce sit still that long without a computer screen reflecting in his eyes.

“Yeah, fine.”

“Call me if you need me.”

“Will do, B,” he probably wouldn’t, but word would get to Bruce eventually.

______

The first time Tim opens his eyes, Jason’s excitement and relief are crushed almost immediately. Tim’s far from his usual self. He’s more out of it than Jason’s ever seen him, with his head lolling back and eyes flickering. What comes out of his mouth is mostly babbled nonsense in between groans.

Jason calls for Alfred immediately, and he’s just this side of his anxiety getting the better of him when Alfred reassures him that the state that Tim is in is to be expected after what his body went through. Besides, his carbon dioxide levels are still low and his blood sugar hasn’t come down very far yet. It’s going to take time for Tim to fully recover, but it’s a lot for Jason to take in all at once.

“Turn ‘ff the lights,” Tim grumbles, startling Jason from his thoughts.

“What?”

“Fuckin’ lights, turn ‘em off.”

Under any other circumstances, the uncharacteristically grumpy demand would have Jason laughing. Right now, it just makes his chest ache.

Alfred dims the lights before speaking, “He may be a bit grouchy.”

Jason lets out a small snort, “Thanks, Alf.”

Alfred offers him a small smile. Evidently pleased that he’s managed to lighten Jason’s mood, even if only a little bit.

“Stop,” Tim groans, causing the two to turn back toward him.

“Sorry,” Jason mutters at the same time that Alfred says, “Apologies, Master Tim.”

Tim huffs at both of them before seemingly drifting off once more.

______

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll call you next time,” Jason grumbles at Bruce’s retreating back. The man is being even more stoic over not being told about Tim’s wake-up, which, to be fair, hadn’t been that remarkable, beyond the amount of stress that it had caused Jason. Besides, if Bruce weren’t so damned busy with whatever it is he’s doing, he might have known that Tim had woken up briefly.

Bruce says nothing as the door closes behind him, apparently aware that Jason is more irritable than usual and unwilling to get into a fight over it.

Jason huffs and sits back in his seat. Part of him wishes Bruce would start something. He’s getting antsy sitting in the Cave this long. Hell, he’s just tired of sitting, but there’s only so much pacing he can do.

“You should be nice,” Tim croaks from his spot in bed, effectively startling the shit out of Jason in the process.

“That was nice, and fuck you,” Jason answers easily, but his heart is bounding away in his chest.

“For which part?”

“All of it, Replacement,” the part where Tim scared the shit out of him and the part where he has the audacity to comment on Jason’s shitty people skills first upon waking up after nearly dying.

“Ouch, I’m back to the Replacement, huh?”

Jason snorts, “You’re damn right. Only a Replacement would pull something like that.”

Tim winces, “Sorry.”

Oh. That’s not fair. The sad look in Tim’s eyes and the pained expression. That’s just plain cheating. “It’s okay,” Jason sighs, “I’m just glad we found you in time.” He doesn’t mention the part where he had been the one to find Tim. Unresponsive and blue in the face. Looking more dead than alive.

“Who?”

“Dickiebird, obviously.” Blue enough.

Tim huffs a small, would-be laugh. It quickly turns into a cough and a groan. “Feels like I got hit by a train.”

“You kinda look like it, too, but I hear that’s just your face.”

Tim blinks at him, slow and owlish, but the joke seems to register after a moment and he shoots Jason a nasty look. “You can leave whenever you want.”

“You’d like that.”

“I really would.”

“Too bad.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“Something fucking stellar: me.”

Tim snorts, but his expression sobers after a moment, “I’m sorry. Really. I- I didn’t know what was happening. I still- did my blood sugar drop?”

“No, the opposite actually.”

“Wait, what?” Tim’s frown deepens and his brows come together, “But-”

“The insulin in the outside part of your pump froze.”

Tim’s hand suddenly reaches for where the pump typically sits. A frantic effort in a tangle of IV tubing that comes up empty. “Where-?”

“Bruce took it. He says you’ll have another one by tomorrow, but I think that one’s pretty shot. He took it apart.”

“Oh,” Tim deflates slightly.

“It almost killed you, Tim.”

“I know,” Tim breathes out. “I know, it’s stupid. Just… Sucks, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Jason answers, for lack of anything else to say. He reaches for one of Tim’s hands and squeezes scarred fingers with his own, calloused pads. “No more patrolling when it’s this cold, I guess.”

“I guess,” Tim echoes, a sign that he doesn’t actually want to agree, but knows that Jason’s right.

Jason squeezes his hand again. This time he gets a gentle squeeze back, which is something of a reassurance. “At least not alone,” he offers after a moment of hesitation. He’s not sure he should give Tim that hope, but he wouldn’t mind company every so often, and the human trafficking shit is something Jason works with on the regular. He can always put aside his more… lethal habits for a bit. There’s nothing stopping him from hunting down names in the future and taking care of business when Tim’s not looking. It’s not as if Tim doesn’t already know what Jason gets up to in his spare time.

“You- really?”

“Really. I’ve worked with a team before.”

“Doesn’t mean that you’d want to now,” Tim points out with a frown.

“It’s you,” it’s different. Maybe Jason will learn how to say half the things he means aloud, but he finds he doesn’t usually have to. Not with Tim, the little deductive prodigy that he is.

“Okay,” Tim smiles at him. A weak, shaky thing, but it’s there, and Jason smiles back.

______

Bruce steps into the infirmary with that usual, severe expression on his face that doesn’t give much away. He’s holding a small box with absolutely no markings on it, and he passes it to Tim wordlessly.

“What’s this?” Tim asks with his brows knitted together, but he doesn’t actually expect an answer. Instead, he opens the box up carefully and finds a new pump sitting inside.

“Freezing won’t be an issue,” Bruce explains before Tim can ask about the lack of a visible catheter. “It’s a single unit. No external catheter, and there’s a warming component that automatically runs under certain conditions to keep the insulin at the ideal temperature.”

“Oh,” Tim breathes, eyes widening as he processes the words. “You-”

“Lucius helped,” Bruce answers with a half shrug and eyes that stay focused on the thing in Tim’s hands rather than the wonder in his son’s eyes.

“Thank you.”

The corners of Bruce’s mouth tug upward before he can stop them, “We just want you safe.”

“Still, thank you.”

Bruce is quiet for a moment, before he says, “Anytime, Tim.”

#dc comics #jaytim #jason todd #tim drake #dick grayson #batfam #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #batfamily #dcu #blitzwrites #blitz

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