#did I watch robin hood again more than once in the last few years?
Note
Recently imagined Jason and y/n, his ex, meeting again after a few years. Still obviously caring about each other. Eating cake alone at the apartment and awaiting the New Year together. Not wanting to say that this is the least lonely, however sad-looking, night they've experienced since they split up.
(jumping off a cliff bc i missed the glaring "new year" part of this and was like "i'll get to this later" so sorry beloved, also this got more angsty than i intended.)
Exes to lovers with Jason is always in the back of my mind somewhere, eating away at my sanity. Just the idea that he loved you so hard he had to let you go, knowing the life he lived wasn't suitable for you. You told him you didn't mind, that he was so important to you that you could put aside the constant worry that would sit in your stomach like a rock every time he was off being Red Hood. You said it was fine, but he saw the way bags appeared under your eyes after too many nights of staying up for him, how you forgot to eat when he went too long without contacting you, and how the tears would slip past your lashes when you were patching him up.
At the end of it all, you had begged him to stay, telling him over and over how much you loved him. It killed him to tell you that that was the reason why it was ending, because you loved him too hard, and you were neglecting yourself because of it. He was sick, wondering if he'd made the wrong decision, wondering if this would only make things worse for you. So, despite the fresh ache in his heart, he still watched out for you, determined to make sure you thrived without him, and thrive you did.
It felt like it had been ages since the last time he saw you that couldn't be mistaken for stalking. Watching you from rooftops and alleyways, rushing fights to make sure he could see if you got home safely and intervene if there were any threats. It became routine for him to hang up his helmet at night once he knew you were safe in the confines of the apartment you once shared. What wasn't routine was you knocking on his apartment door at exactly eleven forty-seven pm on New Year's Eve with a sad-looking store-bought cake in your hands and an even sadder look on your face.
"I know we're not together anymore, but…"
Splitting a whole cake between the two of you on New Year's Eve instead of having a typical dinner had been your tradition for years. Jason took it very seriously, planning the cake in advance for weeks, testing different flavors, even going as far as calling you once in the middle of a fight, asking if you preferred chantilly or sponge. It was stupid to most people you told, but to you and Jason, it was the perfect way to end the year. Now, you stand before him, holding a cake that could never compare to the decadent black forest cake he had made the last time you'd spent New Year's together.
You look down at the cake and then back up at him, the familiar gleam of water in your eyes. He takes the container in one hand and uses the other to pull the door open more so you can come in. It had been a while since you'd been there last, but everything was the same. A wall with an extensive collection of weapons, a stack of books that only collected dust when he was gone for long periods of time, and a framed picture of Jason and Bruce from his robin days.
"How'd you know where to find me?"
"Lucky guess."
Not a lucky guess, the first place you'd told him you loved him.
He roots around a drawer, pulling out two forks and handing one to you. Silence hangs in the air, several year's worth of unspoken feelings lingering with nowhere to go but up. he pops the lid off the container and gestures for you to take the first bite, another tradition that came with his hours of cake-making; he'd always insist on you having the first taste so you could give feedback and you only ever had positive things to say. Now, the weak taste of vanilla paired with a dry crumb, and your mouth turns downward into a frown.
"I don't think it's that bad."
"You'll eat anything."
"True."
No, it wasn't that bad. In fact, before you'd met Jason, this was something you probably would've treated yourself to when life decided to be good to you, but he had spoiled you, given you so much more than you even knew was out there, and it wasn't all material.
Three minutes to New Year's now, and approximately six bites taken out of the cake, five from Jason, and you're ready to part ways again with you leaving him this time. There's still time to make a run for it and ring in the new year without the baggage of your ex hanging over you; there's still time to pretend your world wasn't shattered when he left.
"Why are you here? Why not spend New Year's with your friends?"
"Friends?"
"The people I always see you with when I-"
"Watch me?"
"Am on patrol."
"Right."
"Why aren't you with them?"
"Not friends, coworkers."
"You're with them all the time."
"Workplace comradery."
"So, friends."
Thirty seconds now, and the words you still haven't said are on the tip of your tongue and in the back of your mind, egging you on to admit the feelings you've been sitting on for what feels like forever. He beats you to it.
"Please come back to me."
"I'm not the one who left."
Fireworks go off outside, signifying the beginning of a new year, and you and Jason stand across from each other. Physically, only the kitchen island stands between you two, but emotionally, you're still miles apart. You can't hear in his words how much he needs you back in his life, how hard it is for him every night to not climb in through your window and find his spot in the bed you'd shared like he'd done so many times before; and he can't hear in your words how the wound he left in your heart never healed, how it never even started to, and how through him leaving, you found out that time doesn't heal all things.
#☆ messages from friends ☆#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd angst#red hood#red hood x you#red hood x reader#red hood angst#jason todd fic#jason todd imagine#red hood fic#red hood imagine#jason todd i’ll love you forever
146 notes
·
View notes
Note
⭐ XVII - The Star : Inspiration, generosity, serenity, regaining hope, looking forward to the future.
(( So I think a few of these asks came in shortly before I went on a hiatus, and I kinda forgot about them - so have a thing that I wrote and re-wrote a lot, and I actually started writing in like, January of last year while on a train ride, then started again in the fall, and... kinda polished off today. I still don't feel fully satisfied with it, but probably because it's right after This Post - and is supposed to lead into talking about how meaningful this next tattoo is/was (especially in the face of all that she's lost), since it's related to Ketsuchi/his nickname for her, but I never finished this piece, and never got further than this! Maybe one day I'll write a more in-depth thing about the Robin tattoo and all the layers of meaning that has for her (every tattoo has special meaning for her - and tell you exactly who she is!). For now, it's a look at a more mature Jak - one who has grown as a person and is... indeed displaying some of that generosity and altruism that she always says isn't real - even if she's framing it as 'repaying' someone. Too bad no one ever catches her in the act to prove her wrong...))
Her feet still knew the way – after all, it was only a little more than two years - maybe two and a half? Since she'd run these streets – hungry, dirty, in debt… a street rat if ever there had been one. Just another forgotten refugee haunting the streets of Ul'dah – but now, now the word was that the Sultana had an initiative to employ refugees...to help them learn a trade, to get them home. Fewer, the Mhigan faces haunting the filthy back alleys... and part of her relished that, even if no such help had been handed down to her.
It never had been.
Who would she be, if it had been?
Would I be the one haunting shells of old hovels, lamenting the loss of those who've abandoned me?
It didn't matter, the 'what if' – the past was written, and she was the product of her past as much as anyone else was.
Tonight, her feet led her to Crying Dove's establishment – hood pulled up, tail tucked low beneath her cloak...better not to be recognized; best not to be seen either for who she was (who knew if she had wronged one of the faceless wretches that passed her now and again in the alley), nor for what she was: a small, attractive, and seemingly weak woman. Around here, that wasn't wise.
And yet, she couldn't help but wonder if her Wolf's eyes followed her, even here. Did he know? Did her attempts to go incognito, and slip past all others still manage to catch his ever-watching eyes? Funny, that there was comfort in it anymore, as opposed to the oppressive paranoia such thoughts had brought her, once. He'd promised, even - at her behest - to keep his eyes on her, and relief had flooded her. She could protect herself, but… he could, too. If something happened, he'd know. The irony, oh, the irony of it all – that she'd once choked on anxiety at the thought that his people would see her when that unknown 'something' happened. That she'd fuck up, and he'd know.
But now, oh...now… given what she was on her way to do, it made it all the more hilarious, really, how things had been turned on their heads.
She was at Dove's door before she knew it – watchful and wary as she was, it was almost a surprise how quickly she found herself at the threshold, letting herself in... letting herself briefly drink in 'old', but familiar sights and smells. Heady incense, and draped silks - only the finest, for Dove's little birds, after all. This could have been her fate, in truth, if she hadn't crossed the wrong man… or the right one, in truth, and ended up working for the Yakuza in the East.
Before she even had her hood fully lowered, the buxom Roe who ran the brothel was crossing the lobby in lengthy strides, arms open, “All little birds come home to roost, in time!” The far smaller Miqo'te rolled mismatched eyes - but couldn't help the ghost of a grin that hovered at the corner of her lips – Dove had been the only person who'd ever tried to help her when she'd been a hungry stray. Dove's Nest was a safe haven, and Jak had ducked into the establishment more than once when on the run from the Blades, and Dove would take the opportunity to cajole her and try to convince her to become one of her little birds – it was safe, it paid decent, and she'd have a roof over her head, and three square meals a day.
She'd had her twin to think of – though Dove would likely have gladly hired him, as well – but back then, sex had still seemed… grotesque. Frightening. Painful. You don't survive what she had and retain a sense of desire for physical intimacy of any kind - anyone's hands on her was still deeply disturbing.
All save for one.
But here, now, she couldn't be happier to see the gentle giantess...and allow her the hug she wanted. A rare occasion, hugs – any touch was unsettling, and intimate ones more so, but hugs? Hugs felt like traps. Exposing your belly to strangers, pressing your most vulnerable places to them... and most of the world was larger, and stronger than her. A hug could very well be a trap, in her mind - and not one easily fought out of, with your arms pinned.
Here, and now, she just let it be a warm, safe reminder that every now and then... she found someone worthwhile.
Paranoia be damned.
“I was never one of your little birds, Dove.”
“Oh weren't you, though? You don't have to rest your head in my roost, to be under my wing, Jackal.”
“Just... Jak, now. Finally picked a name, and stuck with it. I... ah,” she managed from the chokehold of a hug before, finally, the larger woman loosed her crushing hold, and the little Calico could breathe again, “I brought you something, for once, instead of just... showing up to ask for something.”
The woman settled her massive hands on the smaller's shoulders, and put a little space between them, to eye her better, “You look well. Healthy. In one piece. Not even out of breath from running from the law. And I can see that you've got some damn fine garb under those nasty robes, little bird. Tell me your tale... and do tell ol’ Dove what you've brought her, hm?”
Crying Dove loosed her hold, and led them back to her office, shouting for one of the girls to come and watch the lobby, the better to let Jak take as much time as she needed to...' tell her tale' – from when she went missing from the streets, up to this very moment. It took the little woman time, and alcohol, and plenty of blushing and swearing – both on her part, and the Roegadyn's, at points, but it was...nice.
Only when she was done with the tale, did she procure the gift – sliding a promissory note across the desk between them, next to the now-emptied bottle of top-shelf liquor Dove had produced from practically nowhere almost the instant the door had shut behind them – this woman had taste, no matter what anyone said.
“Well, ‘thank you’ might be in my vocabulary now, if… sparingly used,” here, the feline woman perks a thin brow upwards, as if to drive home the fact that it does mean something that she came to thank this woman, “But the importance of ‘please’ was impressed upon me, as well.” Wry, the faint curl of lips that follows… and precedes the following words, “So… while I did want to finally re-pay you for all you did for me,” - here, the giantess waves a dismissive hand the size of the smaller’s skull, though it does descend to pluck up that note, as the more feline of the two speaks, “I did want to ask if you’d lend me your tattoo artist again - I find that I’d like to return to hands I know, for my next piece.”
#ffxiv rp#ffxiv#miqo'te#roegadyn#lfrp ffxiv#thanks for asking!#I know this and a few others like it have been in my asks a long while#but you know I always get to them One Day™#jak learning to be a more mature and well-socialized person is such a thing to witness#and it's mostly bc Ketsuchi fought that fight#and very genuinely did not only keep her from going over a ledge - but helped her acclimate to a society she had never been part of
6 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Errol Flynn as Wade Hatton in Dodge City [Michael Curtiz, 1939]
#errol flynn#not pictured: livvie's amazing outfits#that's another post#dodge city#I swear michael curtiz decided errol's left side was his best side#just to fuck with my desire to make symmetrical gifsets 82 years later#it would be so like him#so here's a pro tip I am trying to internalise right now#YOU DON'T HAVE TO WATCH EVERYTHING#I've had five unwatched errol films sitting around for years#look I have tried to watch dive bomber three times and I just cannot be arsed#also I don't like fred mcmurray#and it is OK to NEVER WATCH IT#did I watch robin hood again more than once in the last few years?#yes yes I did#so dodge city is ok and obvs looks amaze and errol and livvie are great#it could be 30 mins shorter#I'm no massive fan of westerns anyway#it's well made etc etc#but I didn't miss out a great deal#apart from errol in a variety of excellent shirts#so although I don't make new years resolutions#I"ve already gone through my epic to watch folder#and deleted some shit#and I feel light as a quaver#floaty light#this is also while deciding I WILL watch the Classics I have Never Seen#let's see how that goes#my wee gifs
60 notes
·
View notes
Note
"you’re not alone . you’re stuck with me forever . sorry . ” + Jason and Dick (and anyone other family member)?
“Everyone okay?” Dick croaks as the dust and rubble settles around them. He’s lying on his back, kept still by something pinning his legs down. He doesn’t dare assess himself quite yet. “Hood? Batgirl?”
“Okay,” Cass says, and Dick watches as she stumbles over to him, looking dusty, but relatively alright. She kneels next to him with a frown. She meets his eyes—well, relatively since they’re both wearing masks—and asks, “Okay?”
Dick grimaces. “Not really.” Louder, he calls, “Red Hood?!”
“Here, here,” Jason says, coughing into his fist. He’s missing his helmet and there’s a gash sluggishly bleeding from his right cheek, smearing a trail of blood down his face. He’s also limping, but only slightly.
“Can you move?” Cass asks Dick as Jason pulls out his flashlight.
Dick winces at the sudden light, his mask having already automatically switched to night vision. He huffs. “Jay. Off.”
“Names.”
Dick scowls. “The light.”
“Deal with it,” Jason snaps. “My night vision isn’t working.”
Dick turns off his own night vision feature, if only to not be blinded by the damn flashlight if it passes over his eyes again.
That’s when Jason’s flashlight lands on where Dick is pinned.
“Crap,” Jason breathes.
“Can you move them?” Cass asks, sounding a touch more impatient, and Dick realizes that Cass has already asked once. “Your legs.”
“No,” says Dick, just barely trying. He’s tired, but he knows that time is up. He can’t get away with ignoring his own situation any longer. Probably shouldn’t have even waited this long. His legs are tingling from lack of blood flow, mixing with a sharp pain shooting through them both. Still he’s lucky, because—“I can still feel them, though.”
“We’ll lift,” Jason says to Cass, who nods. Dick closes his eyes and braces himself for the inevitable pain of rubble being lifted off his crushed legs.
“Hhh.”
The sounds he makes is nothing more than an agonized hissed through his teeth, and Dick can’t help the cold sweat that sweeps across his body in a slow wave as his siblings manage to move the slab of—wall, maybe? who knows, really—from where it’s crushing his poor legs.
Something taps against his shinbone and then his kneecap.
“Stop, stop, I feel it,” Dick gasps, bringing his legs up in a protective curl as pain throbs through most of his lower body. His left hip hurts like hell, and his every muscle, bone, and tendon feels like they’ve been squeezed and then flattened like a pancake. He rolls over onto his side so he can bring his knees up to his chest, to wait out the lingering intensity of the pain.
“Breathe,” Cass says.
Dick breathes.
He closes his eyes and blocks out everything and, again, just breathes. His siblings let him.
When he has a better grasp on his agony, Dick finally relaxes. The world filters back in. Cass is running fingers through Dick’s dusty hair (something she one hundred percent learned from Bruce, because only a select few know how much the motion tends to calm him down).
On the other hand, Dick blinks his eyes open to find Jason agitatedly pacing.
“The hell?” Jason murmurs, his flashlight whipping back and forth with his movements as he surveys their surroundings. “Did we get completely sealed in?”
Dick wishes desperately he would stop. Even without night vision, Jason’s impromptu strobe light effect is causing Dick’s head to ache. Instead of saying this, he hums contemplatively. “Wonder if there’s a signal this far down.”
Jason huffs, not slowing in the least. He’s searching for something, and dear god does Dick want him to find it already. “You’re the one with the comms in your ear. You try it.”
They’re in the sewers, is the thing. And while Bruce and Babs have designed the comms system to work incredibly well, even in the sewers, the signal still needs to be able to make it to the system in order to be functional.
With the three of them sealed in this place, seemingly with no way out, pretty deep in the sewer system where they had been disabling bombs throughout the city, Dick isn’t optimistic about their chances of getting a signal.
(They’d just been a few seconds too late for that last bomb, which unfortunately led them to their current circumstances.)
While Jason grumbles, Cass activates her emergency signal and the comms. She calls out, “Batman? Oracle?”
Jason shuts up for the five seconds before Cass looks between both Dick and Jason and shakes her head.
Dick lets out a slow exhale through his nose. He hadn’t really held out much hope for that anyways.
Jason groans. “Holy batcannoli, I can’t believe we’re stuck down here. And where’s my hecking helmet?!”
Cass helpfully points to the rubble sealing them in. Jason kicks a rock with a yell. Dick sighs.
“Well, at least you’re not alone down here,” Dick says as optimistically as he can—although, given the circumstances, it does fall a little flat.
Jason snorts. “Right. Sure, Batgirl is an asset, but you’re a sack of bruised bones right now. That’s not helpful in the slightest, Dickface.”
Dick’s eyelashes flutter of their own accord. He hums. “Too bad. Looks like you’re stuck with me. Sorry.”
“Dick,” Cass says, her fingers tracing lightly over his face. “Stay awake.”
“I am awake.”
“You’re starting to—” Cass pauses. Dick can’t see the look on her face, because somehow, his eyes have fully closed without his permission, and he can’t seem to find the strength to open them again. “—to slur.”
The sounds of Jason’s pacing stop. Silence rings loud in their sealed section of the sewers. Then, “Did he hit his head?”
“Not sure,” Cass answers.
“Dick,” Jason says, sounding quite a bit closer, like he’s maybe crouching down next to Cass or something—but Dick hadn’t heard him move, and Jason’s boots are too clunky to not make sound against the concrete. “Dick, did you hit your head?”
Dick’s eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t remember hitting his head. The only thing he clearly remembers about the blast is heavy pieces of rubble crushing his legs. “Maybe?”
“Great,” Jason says. He’s pulling out his I’m-rolling-my-eyes-at-your-ridiculous-incompetency voice. “So my bruised bones of a big brother probably also has a concussion. Just great.”
“It’s not his fault he’s injured,” Cass tells Jason. “He was disarming the bomb.”
Which means Dick took the brunt of the blast when it was remotely activated.
Dick really means to tack onto Cass’s statement, maybe tease Jason a little and try to reassure both his younger siblings that not everything is hopeless, because he’s the best big brother ever, of course.
Only, he can’t find the strength to open his mouth and talk. Instead, the voices around him become watery, distorted, and Dick’s head flares in pain.
When unconsciousness comes to take him, he doesn’t resist.
—
“—manage to even find us in the first place?” is the first thing Dick hears as he swims back to consciousness. Jason almost sounds relieved.
“The seismic device didn’t just affect the sewers,” someone replies. It takes a lot of effort for Dick to recognize it as Tim. “A couple buildings partially collapsed, and since we knew the three of you were down here, it was a good starting point to look when none of you would answer the comms.”
“Huh,” is all Jason says.
“Nightwing,” Bruce says, startling Dick from the dazed lull he’d been in as he listened to his brothers talking. He opens his eyes, blinking up bewilderingly at what he can see of Bruce’s face behind the cowl.
“B?” Dick murmurs. He doesn’t move, yet, from where’s curled on his side, but he feels an abortive twitch of his fingers at the reassuring sight of Batman. “‘S goin’ on?”
“What do you remember?”
Right. Bruce did not give easy answers. Life is a series of puzzles, Dick Grayson, fueled by none other than Bruce Wayne himself.
Dick frowns and casts his mind back. “The wall blew up,” he decides. “I got hurt?”
He’s only half sure about that last one, but considering his position on the ground, the throbbing in his head and hip, and Bruce’s concerned dad frown that’s taking over his Batman grimace, Dick thinks that he’s probably on the right track.
“Concussion,” Cass says, startling Dick when she pops her head over Bruce’s shoulder. “Also, ‘a sack of bruised bones.’”
That—sounds familiar. He thinks he remembers Jason saying something like that.
Bruce’s frown gets deeper. “Straighten your legs.”
“Please,” Dick tacks on for Bruce when he lacks the manners to be nice, basically on instinct at this point, even as he—slowly, and with a great deal of agony—does what Bruce tells him to do.
They go through a couple more tests, until finally Bruce, unhappy, deems, “We need to move you.”
Dick blinks when Bruce turns away to murmur something to one of the others. A conversation washes over him, and Dick can’t help but let himself tune it out. The noise settles as vague humming—indistinct and comforting.
“—two, three,” Bruce says as Dick’s entire vision goes white.
He only manages to come back to himself in increments.
There are arms holding him tight. Familiar murmurs in his ear. The comforting sound of Batman’s heavy cape brushing against concrete.
“—there, Chum,” Bruce is saying, and if Dick had the capability, he would have teased Bruce for pulling out both the concerned dad frown and the concerned dad voice in one night.
As it is, the only thing that comes out of his mouth when he opens it are harsh pants for air. Every step jostles him, and agony is his constant companion throughout the entire journey to the surface.
Somehow, Dick is still conscious when he’s laid down in the backseat of the batmobile. He’s grateful he’s not moving anymore, and carefully doesn’t think of the upcoming ride back to the Cave.
He only really starts to relax when Bruce settles the cape over him. Wrapped up inside it, Dick almost feels like he’s ten years old again. Batman’s has always felt like warmth and protection and home. This time is no different.
“Batgirl and Robin, keep Nightwing as still as possible. Red Hood, in the front. Start updating Oracle.”
“Why do they—”
“You’re too bulky, Hood. Me and Batgirl are smaller than you. It’s still going to be a tight fit, but it’s the most comfortable for everyone this way.”
“Whatever.”
“Enough. Car. Now.”
There’s lots of careful but hurried scrambling. Dick thinks he passes out a few times on the way back. He doesn’t remember much, either. Just bits and snatches here and there—His siblings talking to him, Bruce giving orders, Jason being snappy and unwittingly dragging Tim into an argument.
And then—he wakes up. A lot more clear-headed than he’d felt the last time he’d been conscious (though, that wasn’t saying much).
To Dick’s surprise, he’s on his side again, dressed in sweats with a pillow between his legs. He opens his eyes to the Wayne Manor living room, and—yes, he’s on the couch. The curtains are drawn, but it’s clearly sometime past sunrise.
Bruce is sitting cross-legged in front of him, reading a book.
“Bruce?” Dick calls, his voice still somewhat slurred. “Why’m I on the couch?”
“You started crying when I said you had to stay in the infirmary,” Bruce tells him, grabbing a bookmark and setting his book off to the side.
Dick frowns. He doesn’t remember that. Still, he manages to say, “You’re such a pushover.”
“How do you feel?”
Dick blinks a dozen times in a row, trying to assess his body and keep up with the change in subject. “Kinda woozy. My hip hurts a lot.”
“Hn.”
“Think I need to brush up on my Bat speak,” Dick murmurs. “Dunno what that one meant.”
Bruce hums again. “You’re incredibly lucky. We’ll need to be careful for the next few weeks.”
“What’s the diagnosis, doc?”
“Crush injuries to your legs and left hip. Not overly severe, and we managed to stabilize you once we realized you were in shock.”
Dick thinks about that for a second. “Concussion? I’m pretty sure I remember something about a concussion.”
“It’s mild,” Bruce tells him. “It was the shock that was the real problem.”
“Oh.” Dick sighs into the pillow under his head. “I’m tired.”
Bruce gives him a soft smile, just slight enough that if Dick hadn’t been so familiar with Bruce’s microexpressions, he would have thought he’d been mistaken. Fingers lightly card through his hair, and Dick’s eyes start closing of their own accord.
“Then sleep,” Bruce says.
Dick sleeps.
#dick grayson#jason todd#cassandra cain#bruce wayne#batclan#dc#camryn writes#brambleberrycottage#thank you for the prompt and your wonderful support!!!!
450 notes
·
View notes
Note
i saw you say that you like scarlett, sooo do you have any headcanons for her or her relationship with jason?
i do like her! or maybe i should say i like her concept because the way it’s executed in the actual run is uh. debatable i shall say. + jason’s fucked characterization doesn’t help either but i do think they can be an interesting duo.
hcs under cut cause i have a page full of those, enjoy!
jason doesn’t take sasha in for any goal (red hood wouldn’t ever use a kid like that, wth). he just sees a teen, angry and terrified and in pain and knows he’s the only one who can help her in her current situation. it’s also by luck, he wasn’t out looking for a sidekick
sasha’s the one who comes to jason about fighting with him, not the other way around. he teaches her how to defend herself in order to give her some safety and reassure her after what she suffered through with pyg, but it’s weeks later that she asks to go fight with him and he then teaches her how to attack
its a response to her trauma, seeing her father suffer to pyg's hand for being a criminal messed with her, as taking his life did and she feels she needs to take action after that happened and prevent it from happening again. it's not healthy, but it's something to keep her going instead of sitting with her grief and pain
she gets nightmares and sleepless nights after what happened to her, jason always sits with her or stays in the same room when it happens. they don’t talk but it helps her feel safe to know he’s watching over her, the big bad red hood protecting her
she gives back as good as she gets, jason is an asshole but she can be worse than him, and she doesn’t shy away from fighting with him and telling him what she thinks and wants. the only time she lets herself be ordered is when they’re patrolling in the streets because she knows he’s the better fighter between the two of them, but any other situation and she stands her ground and tells him off. jason loves her to pieces for that fact alone, it’s rare to meet people who can butt head as hard as he does and are as stubborn.
jason is conflicted about letting her fight by his side, and he understands some of bruce’s actions better in light of sasha coming to him. although i think she’s more similar to robin!dick than jason’s, which i don’t think jason knows a lot about so it’s more on the meta aspect of their relationship that one
sasha despite what happened to her is still very much a teenager, and once she feels safe enough with jason she lets that shine through. she’s defensive at first, but once she sees it's okay she freely mentions those interests like tv drama, boys bands, her interest in sports, etc, as well as in the behavior, letting less mature and unguarded moment happen
jason isn’t a replacement to her dad or her family. she told him off and made it clear that wouldn’t happen, he’s an ally, someone trusted and to rely on but not family and to the both of them that means more, especially given the time they find each other in their respective life
sasha learns fast, and what she doesn’t have in skills she makes up with her anger and direct actions. i love how she gets robin off guard by jumping him despite having less training than him, it is something she relies on a lot in her fighting style, looking unassuming and taking dramatic actions and letting her emotions fuel her
she burns fast through the anger and grief from her pyg trauma, and that’s what makes her leave gotham. she can’t be scarlet forever it takes too much out of her, and once the mask finally falls she takes the opportunity to be sasha again
she keeps in touch with jason, a few times a year he’ll get a text or a quick visit. they never last because it’s reminder of a harsh time in her life but it’s important for her to remember who helped her during those time
i just think of the potential of giving jason someone to look after personally, and someone with anger and pain and grief like him. he lost his parents to crime, he's been betrayed and suffered and he could have interesting things to give to sasha. in return, seeing her move on could be good to him. overall, there's something to get in their dynamic
56 notes
·
View notes
Text
Well, here is the stupid thing I was alluding to. It’s mostly a filler chapter, but yeah.
Harley’s Plea for Help, Chapter 3
“Well, that took a while,” a relatively deep female voice smoothly drawled. The plants placed right next to the window pulled away, no longer blocking the pathway inside. The two figures who were perched right outside the windowsill took the invitation and climbed inside, the shorter of the two looking at the woman who had spoken and smiling widely.
“Auntie Ivy!” Marinette happily exclaimed, making the redhead across from her grin back.
“That’s me. It sure is nice to actually see you in person, little Marigold,” she held out her arms for a hug, which Marinette instantly ran in to accept. “Video calls are never quite enough, are they? You’re so tiny! Are you sure you eat alright?”
“Auntie Ivyyyyyy,” Marinette whined, knowing full well that Ivy was just teasing her.
“So, what took you all so long?” Ivy asked Red Hood, even as she kept her arms wrapped around her soon-to-be daughter in law. “Usually you bats are all about getting back on the streets to punch people, we didn’t think you’d be bringing her in at almost one in the morning.”
Hood shrugged, thumbs hooked in his pockets. “Your little garden fairy nearly gave us the slip. Went straight out the back exit instead of doin’ anything showy like we half expected and we almost missed her.”
“I stopped as soon as I noticed who they were, I swear!” Marinette pulled away from Ivy, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “I didn’t expect Momma to send them to babysit me before our first full day being in Gotham. In hindsight, though, I really should have.”
“Yeah, you should’ve,” Ivy agreed with a smirk, ruffling Marinette’s hair and making her pigtails go a little crooked. “And I know for a fact that you’ve done some stunts off your balcony back in Paris, so at least I know you can be responsible and hold yourself back from doing the same here. Must get that from me, because we both know it doesn’t come from Harley.”
Marinette and Hood both had to laugh at that. Being responsible was definitely not a trait that Marinette could have inherited from anybody in her family tree, that was for sure.
“Are ya makin’ fun of me in front of my daughter?” the comically scandalized voice announced the arrival of one Harley Quinn, who walked into the room in white onesie pajamas with a poker print on them. All of the “joker” cards were crossed out heavily with red sharpie, and a few of them had black-sharpie devil horns and handlebar mustaches vandalizing them. Marinette even caught one such card with a googly eye on it, the matching eye having fallen off and leaving only a small circle of since-dried hot glue where it used to be. “If you guys are gonna be that way, fine! Ivy dyes her hair!”
“No she doesn’t,” Marinette deadpanned, clearly fighting against a giant grin. The corners of her lips gave her away, they never stopped twitching with repressed mirth. “But you do. I got the pictures to prove—- aah!” Harley tackled her daughter to the ground, attacking her with tickles immediately.
“Take it back! My hair is naturally blond!”
“Yeah, naturally— hahahahaha! Sandy blonde! You— hahaha! Have just as much brown— stop I can’t breathe! hahahaha!— as yellow!”
“Hmph,” Harley finally backed off, crossing her eyes and looking away from Marinette with an exaggerated pout. “How dare you reveal my darkest secret?”
“I was a natural redhead even before I got my powers,” was all Ivy had to say, looking all too amused at this turn of events. “Your original costume completely covered your hair.”
“Don’t worry, Harley,” Red Hood butted in, reminding the three girls that he was still here. His tone suggested that he was definitely smiling under his helmet. “We found out about your hair dye years ago.”
“I just cover up the brown parts! It’s not like I’m changin’ much,” she argued before standing up again. “Thanks for gettin’ my cupcake back safely, little birdie. Oh, that's right! I made cupcakes! Hang on, lemme grab one for your trip back!” with that, she span on her heels and ran back further into the apartment. Marinette dashed over to Hood, immediately shoving him to the window.
“Quick, save yourself! Momma can’t bake for her life!” she whispered urgently. “I’ll say you were called away for an emergency, just hurry!”
“It’s not even a lie, getting away from Harley’s baking is an emergency,” Ivy agreed, waving as the vigilante took their advice and fled. It was only three seconds later that Harley slid back into the room, nearly falling due to the feet of her onesie having pretty much zero friction. Her face immediately fell when she saw that her victim was gone, leaving her standing there with a cupcake that was about twice as much frosting as actual cake, covered in sprinkles like a kid’s craft project that was smothered in glitter. The frosting was also shapeless, just heaped on the cake like a half-melted scoop of ice cream. She sighed in despair.
“There goes my chance of giving a bat diabetes. You guys warned him, didn’t ya?”
They both nodded shamelessly. “We’re not that cruel, Harley,” Ivy defended, getting up from her spot on her cushioned armchair and wrapping an arm around her fiance’s waist before she kissed the top of her head gently. “Hood got our little Marigold back safe and sound, and he’s even started a garden at his apartment. He doesn’t deserve to be poisoned by you.”
“I thought you said he got a single cactus at the flea market last month,” Harley deadpanned, making Ivy shrug.
“Might as well be a garden for him, and it’s something he’s not likely to kill so that’s a plus to me. He’s actually taking really good care of the little baby.”
“Speaking of garden!” Marinette gently took the sad excuse of a pastry away from her mom and sat it down on a side table before ushering both of them over to the living room and onto the sofa. “My garden back home is growing so big, I don’t think I can keep everything much longer. I barely have room to walk on the terrace, with all the vines and leaves and branches. Got any ideas of what I can do?”
“Of course! Do you have pictures, Marigold?”
—*—*—*—*—*
Slipping back through her hotel window at six in the morning was risky, since it involved climbing the wall and hoping nobody saw, but her classmates were so unpredictable that it was the only way she could be sure nobody would find out that she had violated curfew and snuck out. Of course, having Red Robin waiting outside her mom’s apartment’s terrace to escort her back helped. At least she knew that no street cams would record her comings or goings, and his grappling hook made the whole scale-the-hotel-wall business much more efficient.
Once she was inside, she sighed happily. “Thanks, now—“ her apology was cut off as Red Robin held up a finger to tell her to wait.
“Hold that thought, be right back. Don’t move.”
Thinking, rightfully, that something was wrong, Marinette obeyed. She watched Red Robin leap off of her hotel balcony and disappear into the streets. Immediately, she began a search to make sure her room had been left untampered— everything important had been packed in the backpack that she had taken to her mom’s place, but still. Could never be too careful. By the time she finished checking for bugs or any signs of snooping, Red Robin landed back on her balcony.
“Here we go.”
Turning to face him, Marinette opened her mouth to ask what the problem had been— only to tear up a little and walk over to the vigilante.
“Oh, my hero. Truly, my one and only savior. Knight in shining red Kevlar. I’m running on two hours of sleep and you have read my mind!” The pigtailed drama queen eagerly took the coffee that he offered her, and he sipped from a larger cup that looked like he had grabbed it from the same place. Marinette almost instantly sighed in gratitude when the hot drink lightly scalded her tongue. This. This was the elixir of life.
To his credit, Red Robin was able to restrain himself to merely an amused smirk. Probably because he was running on just as little sleep as she was. “Sorry it’s only a small, I figured it was best to have something you could finish quickly and easily hide the evidence for. If you need more caffeine, I happen to know that Wayne Enterprises has a very good coffee shop in their main hall. You’ll be touring there today, right?” He asked, taking another sip as he waited for the answer that he already knew.
Marinette nodded absently, drinking in the euphoria of her coffee as she tried to both savor it yet finish it as quickly as safely possible. When she came up for air, she said; “Yeah, that’s right. We’re touring Wayne Enterprises for most of the day, having lunch there, and leaving for dinner after the tour. Then we have a visit to the Gotham Museum of Fine Art, and we’ll stay there until about eight-thirty before heading back to the hotel.”
Red Robin nodded, then turned and looked out the window at the slowly rising sun. Sunrise was always a bit later in Gotham, partly because of the abundance of high-rises and partly because of the thick cloud cover and ever-present fog on the edges of the city making everything seem darker than it should have been. He had to be at work soon himself, which is why he had been chosen to escort her to the hotel in the first place, but that meant that he had to be heading off.
“Alright. We arranged for a bodyguard we trust to keep an eye on your class during the WE tour, but he doesn't know who you are or that we’re the ones who asked. We’re still in the process of arranging someone to shadow you after the tour, but we’ll tell you about that once it’s solidified. Until then, follow the usual self-defense procedures if you suspect anyone of following you. You have the panic button we gave you?”
Marinette nodded, gulping down the last of her coffee and carefully putting it in her room’s tiny trash can. “Got it. Thanks, again. Seriously,” she met his eyes— or, probably did since they were hidden behind that weird white film that the whole Batfam had covering the eyeholes of their masks. “I mean it. For listening to me, for listening to Mom. It means a lot. I’ll keep the panic button on me, and I’ll use it if I think I can’t handle a situation on my own. I’ll cooperate with the people you get to watch over the class, and I’ll do my best to not get into any trouble. No promises, but I’ll do my best,” she maintained eye contact until Red Robin nodded, hiding his expression behind his coffee cup. After a second, he cleared his throat.
“Well then. We’ll contact you once we have anything to say about your intel. Until then, I gotta go. And by the way?”
Marinette tilted her head curiously as Red Robin paused for just a moment on her balcony railing, aiming a smirk back at her. “Yeah?”
“Welcome to Gotham.”
And if she couldn’t help but smile widely as he grappled off into the fog-veiled sunrise? Well, only she had to know. She wasted no time closing and locking the glass balcony door, and pulling the curtains over it completely. Once that was done, she couldn’t help but do a little shimmy of Joy. She was caffeinated, she met Auntie Ivy in person for the first time, she got to sleep next to her momma— and she was in Gotham! Technically her hometown— or town she was conceived in? Didn’t matter. Point was, even with the chaos and dark energy clouding the very air, she couldn’t help but feel like she belonged in that city. Like that was where she was always meant to end up, where she could thrive and the environment that she was made to thrive in. The environment that she was born to start fixing.
She beamed at herself in her bathroom mirror as she gave herself one more once-over. Yeah, so far her visit to Gotham was going much better than she could have hoped. Now, she just had to make sure it stayed that way.
Three businesslike raps sounded against the door to her room, just in time for Marinette to feed Tikki one more cookie and straighten her purse on her shoulder. Madame Mendelieve’s voice called out from the other side of the door in her usual no-nonsense bark;
“Dupain-Cheng! Room check! It’s time to get up, we’re meeting down in the lobby in ten minutes.”
Marinette ran up to the door, not quite able to contain her energy, and swung it open with her trademark large, beaming smile.
“Way ahead of you, Madame Mendelieve!”
Her science teacher blinked, adjusting her glasses on her nose as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.
“Ah. You’re already awake and ready?”
Marinette giggled and nodded. “Yup! I was so excited for the tour that I could barely sleep! Does the hotel breakfast include free coffee?”
—*—*—*—*—*
The hotel breakfast did, in fact, include coffee. What it did not include, however, was free coffee that Marinette could reasonably stomach. Especially after the heaven in a cup that Red Robin had gotten for her earlier, the watered down motor oil in the hotel lobby had been unbearable. She had barely managed two sips before regretfully throwing the rest away. Which is what brought her to stand in line at the very same coffee shop that Red Robin had mentioned was in the main hall of Wayne Enterprises, as the rest of her class mingled and waited for their teachers to check their tour group in and their tour guide to arrive.
“Hmm. Sorry, this is my first time ordering here,” she apologized when she reached the counter, gaining a slight lopsided grin from the barista at the register. “Um, I usually like strong coffee, with a lot of caffeine, but I also like something sweet. I don’t need anything too complicated though, do you have any recommendations?”
The barista gave her a customer service smile that seemed just a tad softer at the edges than usual. “Sure! So, we can add an extra shot or two of espresso to any of our drinks, to make it stronger and give it an extra kick. If you’re looking for good sweet flavors, the classics are our white chocolate or caramel. But we also have a seasonal syrup right now that I personally love, which is our cinnamon butterscotch. Did you wanna try that?”
Marinette smiled widely. “That sounds delicious! Then, if I could have your largest size café latte, hot, with… two extra shots and that syrup? Does that sound good?”
The barista actually let loose a soft laugh, already keying in the order. “If you’re a coffee lover and a sweet tooth at the same time, then you’ll love it. If not, come back during your tour’s lunch break and I’ll make you something else.”
Marinette made a little more small talk as she handed over the proper cash for the order, and grabbed her drink after just another minute’s wait. She turned around, taking a sip of the unsurprisingly heavenly coffee and started off to join her class.
Only to realize none of them were where she had left them. She sighed, starting to reach into her purse to see if anyone had texted her about where they were going, but a heavy presence stopped her. She could feel him approaching from in front of her, slightly to her right, but she couldn’t hear him at all. On guard, she straightened up and turned to observe the potential threat.
A security guard. Marinette blinked, running over what she had been told earlier that morning. Was he..?
He seemed to notice her instinctually defensive posture because he raised his hands to show he meant no harm. “Sorry, didn’t mean to catch you off guard,” he apologized. “I’m the guard that was assigned to your tour group. I offered to stay behind until you got your coffee while the rest of your group went ahead and got the run-down on all the boring rules and whatnot of the tour. Figured you’d already know everything they had to say anyway, you’re the class president right?”
Marinette relaxed her posture, nodding and sending the man a relieved smile. “Yeah, that’s right. Well, that explains why they left without me then. Usually Madame Mendelieve is strict about following rules though, how’d you convince her to go on without me?”
The man chuckled, jerking his head to show that she should follow him as he began to lead the way to a side door. Marinette kept her guard up just in case, but wasn’t too worried. If nothing else, she was still in the middle of a super crowded building and the other security guards around didn’t seem concerned. She could easily yell for help if she needed to.
“Well, can’t you tell it was my devilish charm?” He teased, grinning. He waited until she rolled her eyes to continue; “but really, I’m like a second tour guide. She made me show a lotta proof that I’m actually assigned to you guys and not just faking it, not that I can blame her. Eventually she saw the logic in my suggestion and agreed. See, there they are,” he pointed casually ahead of them in the large side hallway they had entered. Sure enough, near the end of the hallway was her class at what looked to be the tail-end of a standard rules-and-guidelines speech from the tour guide. “By the way,” the guard spoke up again, holding his hand out. “My name’s Jason. You’ll be seeing me more often, since I’m supposed to guard you guys for all of your visits to the Tower. Call me if you need help with anything, ‘kay kid?”
Marinette grinned, now positive that this guy really was the guard that Red Robin had said was assigned to her class. She switched the hand she was holding her coffee in so that she could properly grab Jason’s hand for a shake.
“Got it, Monsieur Jason. Let’s both hope I don’t end up needing your help though, I think that would be easier on both of us,” she joked, earning a chuckle from the large man. And— yeah, now that she was relaxed, he really was big, wasn’t he? Then again, Marinette didn’t always realize when people were a bit larger or more buff than they should be. Living with her dad had seriously skewed her perception of the normal size of an adult male (which, she learned when she was seven, most definitely was not almost seven feet tall and muscled enough to make a pro wrestler jealous). But she would like to think she had gotten better in that aspect, and Jason was definitely a big guy. A little over six feet tall, she thought, and though the guard outfit hid a good portion of his physique, she could tell he carried enough muscle to do serious damage if he wanted to.
With a wave, she left him to join her class and sipped at her latte. She had figured that the Bat Clan’s criteria for civilians that they would put to guard her class had to be high, but now she had to wonder just how high. Most police officers or security guards were fit, sure, but not like Jason. Casting a quick glance back at him, she confirmed that he had quite a few faded but visible scars. Again, more than your average officer even for Gotham. Who had they tasked with her class’ safety, exactly?
An elbow in her side distracted her from her thoughts, forcing her to blink and stop her cup from going back to her lips. The grin of none other than Adrien Agreste greeted her when she snapped out of her own head long enough to pay attention to her surroundings. He jerked his head to indicate that the class was already starting to move off.
“Come on, Mari or you’ll get left behind again,” he teased. She grinned back at him, rolling her eyes but falling into step beside him as they followed at the back of their class. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were gonna marry that coffee. You haven’t zoned out that badly in years,” his tone was light and cheery, but Marinette didn’t miss the concern in his emerald eyes. She sighed, gently bumping her shoulders against his in silent reassurance.
“I’m fine. Just didn’t get much sleep last night, that’s all. But this really is good coffee. Elixir of the gods,” then, just to provoke him, she took a giant gulp of the still steaming hot drink. Adrien grimaced in pained sympathy even though Marinette didn’t seem affected at all.
“Oww, Marineeeeeeeeeette,” he whined. “Don’t do that, my throat hurts just watching you guzzle hot coffee like that,” he complained, rubbing at his neck to make his point clear.
“Wimp,” she teased, unrepentant. Adrien just groaned dramatically.
“I’m not a wimp, you’re just concerningly used to burning your throat from the inside out,” he accused. “Anyway, how’d it go?” He was being deliberately vague, but it was obvious to her what he meant. He was only one she had told about visiting her mom, after all, just in case she needed a quick getaway.
In fact, he was the only one of her friends that she had even told about her biological parents. Alix knew too, but only because of time shenanigans. Marinette was fine with it now, but still.
“It went great,” she smiled widely at him, keeping her voice low but casual. “If I have a chance, I’ll introduce you sometime during the trip. I have a feeling you’ll love Auntie Selina, but I have to meet her first. All I have so far are stories.”
“Fair enough,” Adrien agreed easily. “But you don’t have to, you know that right? I’d love to meet your family, but I’m also fine just being your pseudo-brother like I have been up until now. I know it might be a bit… uncomfortable, for you.”
“Nah,” Marinette shrugged. “Nerve wracking, maybe. But that’s also about half the things that I do in my life period, anxiety is no joke. I’ll catastrophize for a while, but I know you’ll love them and they’ll love you.”
“Sounds like they have paw-some taste,” he didn’t even miss a beat with his puns, earning a playful glare for his efforts.
“Never mind. You’re a heathen. Disowned. Who are you?”
“Mariiiiii,” he whined, causing them both to laugh for a while before focusing on the tour.
So far, so good, Marinette thought.
—*—*—*—*—*
Part 1 Part 2
@emotionalsupportginger @alysrose-starchild @emistar0 @kibastray @justanotherfanficlovinbitch @alyssadeliv @blackroserelina @blackstarlight-co @readingalldaysleepingallnight @maanae @aespades @jaybird-and-co @fleursroses @probably-a-hologram @misterpianoman @deathssilentapproach-blog @user00000003 @frieddonutsweets @blur-of-colours @prettylittlebutterflie @ladyqnoirr @a-star-with-a-human-name @mizzy-pop @laurcad123 @dorkus-minimus @chocolatecatstheron @tazanna-blythe @golden-promises @literaryhiraeth @asrainterstellar @hewantedbeefintheparkinglot @miraculous-trinity-leo @missanalysis @lovelyautumnsunflower @lolieg @ann0631 @whitetiger1249 @meow-now @toodaloo-kangaroo
#maribat#ml x dc#mlb x dc#soulmate-game#marinette x damian#damian x marinette#damimari#dc x miraculous#dc x mlb#bio!mom harley quinn#eventual daminette#probably#daminette#platonic jasonette#platonic timinette#platonic timari#platonic dickinette#platonic brucinette#Joker can choke on a cactus
377 notes
·
View notes
Text
Just Two Sad Roommates
Corpse Husband x Reader(Female)
Warnings: Swearing (maybe)
Genre: Angst, Fluff
Summary: The power of medieval tavern music gets put to the test when Corpse’s roommate is having a rough day. SPOILER ALERT: it’s more powerful than anyone could assume.
Requested by Anon. You know who you are 😊😋 Wish I could tag you, I loved this idea so much and had such a fun time writing it. Hope you enjoy it just as much 🥰
The last twenty four hours haven’t been so great.
Last night I had a huge fight with my boyfriend over his flirty messages with several girls. It was not just witty banter, it was way more and way more hurtful to me. He obviously denied it and defended himself, at least in the beginning of the argument. Then he took on the accusatory stance, pointing fingers at me for living with another guy. That had me absolutely fuming. Not only was his statement fabricated and literally made up on the spot, but he also used some seriously horrible insults for him. I was having non of it. Corpse is a really great roommate, sweet guy and overall amazing person. I haven’t once argued with him since we’ve started living together. We’re actually quite good friends. So hearing my asshole boyfriend call him all those names was more than enough to chase him out of the apartment. Thankfully, Corpse wasn’t home to hear all that. He rarely leaves the apartment but by some miracle this was the time he was absent.
Then this morning my mom called me to have a chat. It started off decently enough but it only remained that way for so long. It didn’t take her long to start criticizing each and every element of my existence. From my job, my boyfriend, my living arrangement, the career I’ve decided to pursue, the fact I moved to a different state, my paycheck that’s lower than her friend’s daughter’s...…..You get the point.
Now I’m sitting here, contemplating what the two years I’ve been in a relationship with Marcus mean to me. I guess it is just like a phone call from my mother - starts off nice but slowly deteriorates. All things follow this pattern in my life, apparently. And just like the phone calls, I’ve considered ending things between me and him many times but never actually decided on it. Until now. The last part of this decision is executing it, which doesn’t look very promising. My thumbs are frozen, hovering over the keyboard.
I take a second to take a look at my life from a third person point of view, like an out of body experience. I am wrapped in a blanket, huddled on the couch like a burrito with a face. A really sad burrito with a face. I have a job where I work as much as three highly ranked workers and get paid a little over a secretary’s paycheck. I’m in a constant state of exhaustion and disinterest. I often forget I’m human and just assume I can live like a cactus - no food, no water. I have a boyfriend that’s cheating on me and most likely has been for quite some time now. And we’ve been dating for two fucking years. Man, that must be the longest cheat streak in history. Who knows with how many girls as well. And I still have trouble deciding weather to break up with him or not. Actually no, scratch that, I have already decided, but it feel so unnatural and so out of character that my body refuses to complete the task of delivering the final blow to the structure of this relationship which was already weak to begin with.
And it only got weaker when I started catching feelings for another guy. I know, I know, I’m a bad person for that, but I was never planning to act on those feelings. They have always just...lingered, loomed over me. They got stronger and stronger every time Marcus and I would fight, as though they were laughing at my mock of a relationship.
Speaking of laughter, I hear my roommate laughing in his recording room. I gave him the spare room for his recording equipment for a cheap add to his rent fee and it’s probably the second best decision I’ve ever made - first being picking him to be my roommate. He was among the first to reply to my online add and appeared the least sketchy over the phone. More hypnotizing if I’m honest. He could’ve told me he was a hitman and I wouldn’t have batted an eye, handing the keys to his room and the apartment without a second thought. All he had to do was keep talking. Again, SUE ME.
“Fuck, I’m so fucking pathetic!“ I drop my phone when all the strings inside me snap, releasing the sobs and tears I’ve been holding back for so long.
I bring my knees up to my chest, hiding my head in between them, desperately trying to shield myself from the plane crash that is my life at the moment. Crying makes me feel even sadder and more miserable but I have nothing left to do to get all the crap that’s piled up inside me out.
I’m on the verge of falling asleep, the tears have dried and the sobs have died somewhere in my chest, when I hear what sounds like music straight from Robin Hood’s time.
Holy shit, I’ve lost it
I lift my head from in-between my knees, looking around the living room for the source of the jolly, lighthearted tune which despite all the heaviness of my self-loathing makes me feel like the main character in an medieval adventure. Wait...Holy crap, it’s that medieval adventure, Robin Hood-ass music I hear from Corpse’s room!
I whip around to face the entrance from to the hallway where I see an arm sticking out, holding a phone which is where the music is coming from.
“Corpse?“ I call out to him in a questioning manner, shifting to a sitting position with my blanket kicked off of me and bunched up next to me.
“I can’t tell if you’re angry or sad...or both. Didn’t want to get attacked upon entering the room.“ I see the right side of his face peek out as well.
I break out into laughter, covering my mouth with one hand, “You’re such a dork.”
He takes this as a sign to come in, pausing the music as he does so. “What’s wrong?”
My laugh stops but a smile remains on my face as I look at him. He just has that effect on me. “A lot. What’s going on with you?”
He shrugs his shoulders, plopping down on the couch, “The usual, streaming Among Us. You should play with me and my friends some time.”
I scoff, “I can pull of a lie no problem. Maybe I really should.” I don’t actually consider it, it’s just funny to think about.
I have never watched any of Corpse’s content. Not his scary story videos, not his streams, not his animated compilations. Just his songs. And let me tell you...they are hella good. One song and I was hooked.
“Hey, I have a question.“ I tilt my head to look at him, “What’s with you and your love for medieval adventure music?“
“Medieval tavern music, and it’s not really love.“ He shakes his head with this dopey grin that is just. so. adorable. “More like a coping mechanism. Tell me, did you feel less sad I played it for you?“
I stop and think for a second. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Point made.“ He declares, leaving me to nod in amusement. “Now, tell me what that ‘a lot’ is.“
So, I do. I tell him everything, from how my boyfriend is cheating on me to how my mother thinks I’m a complete failure. He listens carefully, paying close attention to everything I’m saying. I catch myself laughing a few times while I retell the recent upsetting events.
Must be that music.
“So, you broke up?“ He asks once I end my monologue with a sigh
I shake my head disappointedly, “Not yet. I still haven’t pulled the plug. I don’t know what to say.”
He holds out his hand to me, “May I be of assistance?”
I look at his hand then at him and contemplate for only a second before deciding ‘what the hell’ and handing over my phone after unlocking it. The screen displays my boyfriend’s chat so Corpse just types away what he has in mind. Before pressing ‘send’, he hands the phone back to me. “Proofread it.”
‘Dear Marcus, this is one of your girlfriends speaking. Yes, one of them. You think I’m not onto what you’re doing, you little shit? Well, to your dismay, I am. And so, I discontinue this relation between us. That word might have been too long for your IQ so let me rephrase: We are over. Finished. Hope your other girlfriends wake up too, unless they are already in the know, of course. Love, but really hate, Y/N‘
I was never aware this level of sass even existed.
I add a smiling emoji and send the message, sighing in relief. “I can check that off my to-do list now.”
We both lean back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. A moment of comfortable silence takes over, leaving us both wandering in our own heads.
“Hey, um, I wanted to do this when I first moved in, but then I met your boyfriend and I took the hint. Now that you’re single, would you want to...“ he sounds a bit uncertain but continues regardless, “It’s ridiculous cause I don’t really like the idea of going out, but maybe we could order take-out...“
“Are you circling around asking me on an at-home date?“ I am surprised by how unbothered I manage to sound while I’m squealing on the inside. It’s fascinating how quickly a person can flip someone’s day around. Turns out it wasn’t the music at all. It was him that had the positive effect on mine.
Out of the corner of my eye I catch his face turn red and have to contain my laughter. The grin can’t be tamed though, especially not when he says, “Yes.”
Internally squealing, I launch myself from the couch, standing up straight in front of him. “Thai. My usual order is on the sticky note on the fridge. But first,” I offer him my hand, “I need to find out if a person can even dance to that ridiculous music.” At his amusement, my grin widens, “May I have this dance?”
He laughs that adorable laugh of his I’ve only heard through the layer of a wooden door. It’s even cuter when there’s nothing between me and its source. The source is cute too, not gonna lie.
With a shake of his head which is most likely disbelief, he takes the hand I’ve offered him, saying: “And you call me a dork.”
@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @itsminniekat @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze
#corpse husband#corpse#husband#corpsehusband#corpse simp#corpse husband fanfic#corpse music#corpse husband x reader#corpse husband x y/n#corpse husband fluff#corpse husband fanficiton#fluff#angst#love#romance#corpse x reader#corpse x y/n#x reader#reader#reader in#x y/n#requests open#request
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Civilian
Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader
Summary: Jason Todd is used to saving the innocent. But he’s not used to them saving him.
Word Count: 3,100 – One Shot
“Fuck me,” Jason groaned as he stumbled across the rooftops.
How he was able to even walk right now was beyond him.
He had Slade on the ropes. Just one more punch to put him off balance and Jason would’ve shoved a knife into his jugular and be done with him. But Slade had a few more tricks up his sleeve and decided to flee instead of finish a losing battle, so he ran like a coward.
It left Jason utterly irritated and with a huge gash in his side, amongst other various injuries.
He could’ve called one his “friends” or someone in his “family.” But he was stubborn. He wanted to be stronger than that. He wanted to prove that he didn’t need any of them. He was better than that. He was the best. And he’d risk bleeding out to prove it to them – or really…himself.
But his body wasn’t on the same page.
And it finally had enough.
Jason stumbled to his knees on a rooftop. He groaned as his vision became hazy.
His helmet had a protective system in place so no one could take it off if he was unconscious. They’d get a nice little shock if they tried. His identity would be safe even if someone stumbled upon his injured body… or corpse.
Jason managed to roll onto his back and was met with the smoggy Gotham sky.
“Get the fuck up,” he told himself aloud.
He blinked, trying to straighten and clear his vision.
But it was useless.
The last thing Jason remember seeing was the Bat signal reflecting off of the cloudy sky. Somewhere in the city, there was more crime to fight and he’d just be another asshole who thought he could put a stop to it.
Dying didn’t scare Jason anymore. He’d done it once before, and he could do it again. What did it matter now anyway?
But Jason didn’t die.
He woke up on a couch. Well, if one could even call it that. His 6’4 frame could barely fit on the thing. His legs were hanging off the end, not able to comfortably fit on the thing.
His head felt like it was having the worse hangover of his life. When he opened his eyes, he blinked at the incoming sunlight. Then he realized he wasn’t looking through the programming of his Red Hood helmet.
Then he touched his face to realize that his backup domino mask had also been removed, leaving his identity exposed.
His eyes widened in slight panic as he looked around.
He appeared to be a in a small apartment – normal, no threats detected.
Then Jason looked down to realize he wasn’t in his uniform. In fact, his chest was bare and he was only in his black briefs. His autopsy scars on full display.
But just half a foot away from him, his clothes were neatly folded into a pile on the edge of the coffee table. His two guns were sitting right next to them.
Whoever had brought him here clearly didn’t see him as a threat. Stupid on their part. There were about two dozen other weapons hiding in the crevices of his clothes too.
But the more concerning thing was that Jason didn’t have a single wound on his body. The giant gash to his side that had made him faint and nearly die from blood loss was nowhere to be found. After all these years, Jason was still figuring out the side effects from being dumped into the Lazarus pit. But this couldn’t be related, could it?
Suddenly there was the sound of the apartment door opening.
On instinct alone, Jason shot up, grabbed one of his guns, and found his target.
What he wasn’t expecting to find was a beautiful woman, probably only just a little bit younger than him, standing with a coffees in a carrier tray and a bag in the other hand. She had earbuds in, further disorienting her from such a welcome. Her eyes went wide and the rest of her body was completely frozen.
After a few seconds, she slowly tugged her headphones out.
“Is the gun really necessary?” She asked.
But Jason could tell from her body language that she was scared.
“Who the hell are you?”
She had enough courage to glare at his tone. “I’m the person who saved your life, asshole.”
“Yeah? And how exactly did you do that?”
She seemed to be getting less scared and more angry with every sentence Jason said.
“If you put the fucking gun down, I’ll tell you.”
Jason hesitated before finally putting it down. Then his behavior caught up to him. Here was this stranger, who was clearly innocent and had helped him…and his first thought was to point a gun at the poor thing.
“Sorry,” he finally gasped. “It’s…a habit.”
She just eyed him, neither rejecting or accepting his apology.
She sat on the love seat opposite of the couch that he’d taken over.
With an innocent look, she slowly put a coffee cup on the table and the bag.
“I’m not much of a cook… so I picked up breakfast. It’s just a black coffee. I figured you didn’t like anything fancy.”
“T-Thank you,” he stuttered out, trying his best not to sound harsh.
Those words were strange coming out of his mouth. And Jason couldn’t figure out if it was because he’d completely lost his manners or there wasn’t anything someone had done for him lately that warranted any sort of thanks.
“I’m sorry about taking off your clothes,” she suddenly said. “I would’ve given you something. But…well…I don’t have anything even close to your size. Even my oversized clothing wouldn’t have fit.”
Jason was about to tell her it was OK, but she continued.
“Not that I would’ve even been able to put it on you. I hardly got your clothes off.”
Jason smirked at that. “Speaking of which, how the hell did you get my helmet off.”
“Yeah…I managed to get you to come to for a minute or so.” Then she shifted in her seat, clutching her coffee tighter as if it was a security blanket. “I honestly just asked you very nicely. I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone what you looked like. You were kind of just…a zombie or something and…took it off.”
Then he took her stature in. Jason knew he was a big guy. He was bigger than the majority of men. He’d only met a few women in his life that were taller than him, and they were all either Amazons or aliens.
This young woman was neither of those things.
“How did you get me off that roof?”
She laughed, seeing that he was trying to add it up in his head. “I’m definitely no Superman. My neighbor doesn’t have any other hobbies besides going to the gym. He owed me a favor.” Then her eyes widened. “Don’t worry, he didn’t see you without your helmet. He’s also sworn to secrecy.”
Jason shrugged. “It’s fine if he did. I can just kill him later.”
He saw her whole body tense up at that.
“Relax. I’m kidding.”
Her tension was released, but she didn’t find his joke very funny.
Then her eyes locked to the floor.
Jason took this chance to study her.
Her hair was a bit of a mess. But there was still a halo around it as the sun shined from behind her. Her jeans were a bit baggy, but purposely so. She was wearing a band t-shirt that was so worn that there were a few holes in it.
Jason had to acknowledge that she was beautiful. But he had made note of that as soon as he’d pointed a gun at her.
“I ended last night with a life-threatening injury…amongst other things,” Jason said as he looked down at his body. “I woke up with not even a scratch on me. So why don’t you tell me how the hell that’s possible?”
She finally raised her gaze from the floor to him. Then she swallowed and clenched her jaw. It was clear she had been hoping for a scenario where Jason didn’t ask any questions, where he would just give his thanks and move on.
But she wasn’t that lucky.
“Hey,” he said gently. “You’ve seen my face. You know who I am now. Whatever it is you’re scared to tell me, we’ll be even.”
She stared at him a bit longer before taking in a shaky breath. “I…umm…can do this thing.”
“Uh huh,” he encouraged.
“I can heal people by…umm…touching them?”
Jason sat back, letting the information settle. “Huh,” he said with small nod.
“I saved your life,” she told him. “All I ask in return is that you keep my secret.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” he told her.
She nodded nervously, but didn’t seem fully convinced.
“What’s your name?” He asked her softly.
She looked unsure if she should tell him.
“I’m Jason. Jason Todd.” He offered to even the playing field.
She tilted her head, probably because she heard that name before. Everyone in Gotham had at some point. The tragic death of Bruce Wayne’s second adopted son. And then the dead son who had somehow come back, his death misidentified. There were hundreds of rumors about what really happened. But they all sounded ridiculous to her.
“Y/N,” she finally told him.
“Thank you for saving my life, Y/N.” He scratched the back of his neck. “But I have to ask why you did.”
After all, the neighborhood she lived in was weary of Gotham’s vigilantes. Some believed they were keeping them safe, while others thought they were just making things worse. It led to a general distrust of the masked heroes.
“They say the Red Hood used to be Robin,” she told him quietly.
“I don’t pay attention to what people say…”
Y/N leaned forward. “But is it true? Were you Robin back then?”
Jason ground his teeth together. “That was a lifetime ago.”
She watched him for a minute, working out whether she wanted to share something or not.
“When I was a little girl, I was at the bank with my mom when a robbery went down. Things went bad and quick. They panicked, decided a little girl was the best hostage to grab. We barely got a few blocks away before Batman intervened. I was terrified, even of him. But Robin was with him…and he could tell I was scared. He wasn’t that much older than me, but he was so much braver. He held my hand until the police came. But even then I wouldn’t let go of him. So, he stayed with me until my mom got there.” She took in a deep and shaky breath. “It meant a lot to me.”
Jason controlled his expression, but he knew what she was talking about. He remembered that night. How he did was beyond him. But it didn’t feel long ago. He remembered thinking the little girl was pretty.
Jason didn’t have a lot of friends back then. He came from the streets but lived in a mansion. He couldn’t figure out who he was back then. And it was hard to relate to other children.
Back then, it was the most intimate interaction he had with someone his age.
“Would you still have saved me last night even if I hadn’t been Robin?”
This was all Y/N would get in terms of Jason admitting that he had been Robin that night.
Y/N shrugged and nodded. Then she cleared her throat. “The only thing saving this shit hole of a city is people doing the right thing.”
Jason stood.
The motion startled Y/N and she followed his action without even meaning to.
Now that he was standing on his own two feet, she truly understood just how absolutely massive he was. She was by no means short and she still felt like she was looking at a giant.
However, Jason misread her gawking for something else. “You don’t have to be scared of me, kid. I’m not going to hurt you,” he told her quietly.
“I’m not scared of you,” she said as her face suddenly felt hot.
Y/N didn’t know what she had expected to see under that red helmet last night. But she definitely wasn’t expecting a man handsome enough to be a model.
But then her brow scrunched, “And I’m not a kid.”
Jason smiled – like, genuinely smiled. The muscles on his face forgot what that felt like.
He eyed the band t-shirt she was wearing: Fleetwood Mac – the Rumors album, to be precise.
“You’ve got good taste in music,” Jason complimented.
“Thank you,” Y/N mumbled.
A new tension filled the air.
Something neither of them have felt in awhile – if at all.
Y/N cleared her throat again, starting to feel too close to this large and beautiful man who was only standing in his briefs.
“You can use the shower if you want.”
Jason smirked. “Thanks, but I should get out of your hair. You’ve already done enough for me.”
He took a step toward her, realizing that he seemed to like seeing her reaction to his presence.
She stayed in place, but shifted her weight.
Jason lowered his head a bit. “Your secret is safe with me, Y/N. Thank you again…you saved my life.”
——————
Y/N and Jason couldn’t stop thinking about one another since that morning.
Jason had trust issues. And because of those trust issues, he learned not to rely on others. He refused to be anything besides independent. But those flaws were also the reason it was so hard for him to get close to anyone. He kept people at a distance so he could never be rejected or get his heart broken. It was problematic, but that was how he survived.
But Y/N had shown him kindness and then expected absolutely nothing in return. She just hoped he wouldn’t shoot her brains out when he finally came to.
Meanwhile, Y/N couldn’t remember the last time a man looked at her the way Jason had. Just thinking about the looks he gave her caused goosebumps to shiver across her skin.
She’d seen the scars across his skin and knew he’d lived a rough life. And that wasn’t even including the scars his mind and heart held. She wondered who was the last person to help him or to just show him that they cared whether he lived or died.
It had been a few weeks and Y/N still couldn’t get Jason Todd out of her mind. Even now, as she sat on the rooftop of her building once again, eating a pizza she’d just picked up and washing it down with cheap red wine.
She almost spilled said wine all over herself when she jumped from the sound of someone dropping onto the roof from behind her.
Y/N whipped around to see Red Hood walking steadily toward her.
“Sorry. I tried to be loud so I wouldn’t scare you.” His voice sounded different from the helmet distorting it.
“Well, most people use doors and stairs…so I think the effort is pretty useless.”
Jason ignored her joke and pulled out a thick envelope that had been tucked on the inside of his leather jacket.
He handed it to her.
Y/N was confused, but took it from his grasp anyway.
She opened it to find two tickets to see Fleetwood Mac on their reunion tour at Gotham City Stadium.
Her gaze shot up to Jason’s and then she did a double take at the tickets, making sure she wasn’t seeing things.
“How - What - Why?” She finally sputtered out the right question.
Jason just shrugged. “I owed you.”
“T-This is too much. I can’t accept this. These tickets must’ve cost a fortune,” she told him as she tried to hand the envelop back to him.
But he wasn’t having it and simply shook his head.
Y/N knew they cost a fortune because she had looked up tickets. Her heart had broken when she saw how far out of her budget the lowest prices were.
“Take them, Y/N. Please.”
She knew there was no point in arguing.
But she slowly looked up at him. “Would…ummm… Would you like to go with me?”
Jason blinked at the offer. “Seriously?”
Y/N laughed at his surprise. “Yeah, I mean, clearly you’re a fan, too.” Then she shrugged, now self conscious that she’d been too forward. “I don’t know. When was the last time you did something fun?”
Jason was shocked at how right she was.
“Oh, my God!” Y/N suddenly yelped.
Jason immediately jumped into action, grabbing both of his guns and stepping to Y/N in a protective stance.
“Jason, you’re bleeding!” She cried out, not realizing that he had just used his body as a human shield for her to defend an attack that wasn’t even happening.
He relaxed and followed her gaze to his forearm – the small patch of skin between his gloves and the rolled up sleeve of his leather jacket. He had been sliced by a knife. He probably needed to clean it before it got infected and stitch it up.
“Y/N, it’s just a scratch.”
“Shut up,” she snapped. “Come here.”
Then he let her dragged him to the two fold-out chairs she kept on the roof.
Jason realized suddenly that he didn’t mind being bossed around by this woman. In fact, he kind of enjoyed it.
Without asking for permission, Y/N put her palm over his cut.
Jason watched as he felt a comforting warmth wash over the area of skin that she was touching. Within seconds, his cut was completely gone.
Y/N gave it a satisfied smile. No matter how many injuries she healed, the pride and relief never went away.
“You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” Jason was relieved his helmet hid the dumbstruck look that was surely on his face.
Y/N didn’t seem to take the compliment very well and slightly folded into herself.
“So, will you?” She changed the subject quickly.
“Will I what?” But as Jason asked for clarification, he knew that he’d probably do anything Y/N would ask of him.
“Will you go to the concert with me?”
He nodded.
The nonverbal answer was enough for Y/N because she gave him a beaming smile.
In that moment, Jason wondered how he could ever push Y/N away like he had done with everyone else in his life.
And for once, he allowed himself to feel happy.
Maybe he could keep letting himself be happy, as long as it included Y/N.
---------------------------
Really, really loving writing for Jason Todd. I was a little exhausted with Marvel fandom.
Let me know what you think!
#jason todd#jason todd fic#jason todd one shot#red hood#red hood fic#red hood one shot#jason todd reader insert#red hood reader insert#jason todd x reader#red hood x reader#batman universe#batman characters#jason todd fluff#red hood fluff
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Taking Chances Ch. 23: Stealing the Batmobile (Alt Prompt Driving)
AO3
Prev
Marinette looks at her little brother with an amused expression before asking:
“He really stole the Batmobile?”
“Yup. Claimed he was a better driver than me.” Dick says with a snort. Marinette winces.
“To be fair, he’s probably right. You’re kind of an awful driver.” She says with an apologetic smile. Dick clutches his heart and sniffles loudly.
“My own flesh and blood!” He cries dramatically. Damian scoffs.
“Tt. She is on my side, Grayson. As she should be since she is <i>my<i> flesh and blood.” He says with a scowl.
“The pain!” Dick cries, throwing himself off the couch and onto the ground. Jason just sighs and shakes his head, while Tim looks on tiredly. The five of them had decided to hang out at the manor together earlier, which had somehow shifted into telling stories about each other and funny things that had happened. Marinette loved hearing stories about her brothers from when they were younger.
“Out of all of us, I am likely the most competent driver.” Damian says, glancing at Marinette before nodding once. “And I assume Marinette would be the second most competent.” He adds. Marinette’s face instantly turns red- she’d never driven before. Her little brother (who was two years younger) was already a great driver. And she…..was not.
“Oh, uh, I’ve actually never driven before.” She admits. Damian frowns.
“Wait, you’re almost fifteen and you’ve never driven before?” Jason asks, leaning forward. “Like, ever”
“Well, no. You can’t get a license in France until you’re eighteen. So no one in their right mind is going to let a fourteen year old drive around the city.” She explains. She watches as a thoughtful look crosses Damian’s face before settling back into a neutral mask.
“I require your assistance with something. Follow me.” He says, standing and walking out of the room.
“Er, okay.” She says, furrowing her eyebrows. “We’ll be right back.” She reassures her other brothers. She walks quicker, trying to catch up with Damian who was practically running at this point. He glances at her and raises an eyebrow.
“Did the others act as if they would follow?” He asks. She frowns, but shakes her head. “Excellent.” He says, opening one of the entrances to the Batcave. She follows him, but freezes as they walk in and she sees where he’s heading.
“Damian, we’d get into so much trouble.” She says, planting her feet and freezing in place.
“Not if we aren’t caught. Which we will be if we don’t leave soon.” He says, rushing into the changing room. She stays where she is, glancing down at Tikki peeking out of her purse.
“Marinette, your father would not like this.” She warns. Marinette bites her lip.
“I know, but Damian seemed so excited.” She counters, with a small smile. Tikki gives her an unimpressed look. Marinette watches as her little brother walks back out, dressed in his uniform. He nods at her once and then climbs into the driver’s side. She hesitates, weighing her options. She could go with and attempt to drive the Batmobile, or she could watch her little brother drive away and know that no one knew where he was. Crap. Pushing away every instinct telling her this is a horrible idea, she rushes after Damian and hops into the car, calling her transformation as she does. She grins at her brother, her Ladybird suit had started giving her more confidence than her Ladybug suit. It was odd, but she loved it. He immediately slams on the gas, driving out of the cave and into Gotham.
“Ukht, will you be driving as well?” He asks and she hesitates before nodding. It was the Batmobile, what could go wrong?
---
Okay apparently a lot could go wrong, she thinks, watching as the Batmobile slides into the Gotham river.
“How the fuck did you guys manage that?” A voice asks. She whirls around, wincing when she sees Jason, as Red Hood. She can’t see his face but she can just imagine the look he’s giving them.
“In my defense, we were left unsupervised.” She says. He scoffs.
“You little shits left us!” He reminds her.
“Ladybird had never had the chance to drive before. It made sense to make sure that she could drive and to train her in case she ever needs to utilize a vehicle on patrol.” Damian reasons. And yeah, the reasons are sound. But the Batmobile slowly sinking into the river kind of makes his reasons weak. Just a bit.
“And driving into the river was, what, to see if she could drive a boat?” Jason asks, crossing his arms.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Hood. That’s a car.” She says, the words tumbling out of her mouth. She regrets it, but only for a second because then she hears Damian snort. Score! Every time she was able to make her angriest brother laugh, she gave herself a point. She was so close to double digits.
“Well B’s gonna be ready to go on patrol in less than an hour. Either of you two geniuses have any ideas on how to get the car out of the river and back to the cave?” Jason asks, pulling Marinette from her silent celebration.
“We could call a tow truck.” She suggests.
“Tt. That is unwise. The Batmobile is not a regular car.” Damian argues and she huffs.
“Okay well, last I checked you didn’t have any bright ideas either.” She quips, annoyed with him again. They were good at that. Laughing one minute, then annoying each other the next. She figured it just meant they were doing something right as siblings.
“Ladybird might actually have a good idea, Robin. Unless you want to call Superman here and have him rat you out to B.” Jason says. A devious smirk stretches onto Damian’s face and Marinette suppresses a shudder. She was definitely glad the kid was on her side. Most of the time, anyway.
“Excellent point, Hood.” He says, clearing his throat slightly before yelling. Well, not really yelling. Just talking slightly louder than normal. “Jon. I require your assistance.” A few moments later a boy flies down and lands in front of Damian. If she didn’t know any better, Marinette would assume the boy was another of her dad’s kids. Dark hair, blue eyes. But this kid had a huge smile stretched across his face. So maybe not.
“Hey Robin! I haven’t seen you in ages!” The boy says cheerfully before waving at Red Hood. He turns to her and his smile falters slightly before it’s back full blast. He sticks out his hand. “Nice to meet you! I’m Superboy.” He says. Marinette grins, shaking his hand back.
“Ladybird, and likewise.” She says.
“So what-” Jon (Superboy?) starts, glancing at the river, eyes widening at the car. “Did you steal the Batmobile again!?” He yelps, obviously shocked. And concerned. Which she understood. It’s not everyday you see the Batmobile slowly sinking into the Gotham river.
“Er, temporarily misappropriated.” Marinette says, glaring at Jason who snorts at her response.
“No, they definitely stole it. And Ladybird here decided she’d try to drive for the first time. What I’m not understanding is why you knuckleheads thought it’d be smart to drive so close to the river?” He says.
“Obviously I wasn’t thinking clearly, Hood. Can we please just focus on getting the car out of the river before I’m murdered by Batman?” Marinette rambles, looking pleadingly at Jon. It was odd, begging a little kid to drag her superhero dad’s super car out of a river, but it had to be done.
“Oh, yeah, of course!” Jon says, his earlier shock replaced with a wide smile once again. He flies over and grabs the car, gently pulling it up and placing it back on the road. Marinette winces at the water pouring out of the car. She was so grounded.
---
Walking into the Batcave, Bruce frowns at the lack of Batmobile. He’d passed Tim and Dick on his way to the Cave, so he knew they didn’t have it. Which left his two most mischievous sons and the daughter they had so easily corrupted. Hopefully they were just getting fast food or something again. Hopefully nothing bad was happening. He winces. That was unlikely with his children. He rushes over to the computer, tracking the Batmobile and accessing the cameras near the car. The image in front of him makes him pinch the bridge of his nose and grit his teeth.
“Just one day, one day is all I ask.” He mumbles under his breath. Because of course traffic cameras would catch Superboy lifting the Batmobile out of the river. Of course. He sits in his chair and watches as the kids argue for a few minutes before getting in the car and driving off. He tracks them all the way until they’re past cameras, and then he waits. Knowing it’ll only be moments until they’re in the Cave. He sits, silent as they get out of the car.
“No, seriously, he’s gonna know.” Marinette is saying, obviously looking nervous.
“Then beg Tikki to take all the water out or something. It’ll be fine, Pix.” Jason says.
“She’s gonna be so mad at me though. She warned me that it was a bad idea.” Marinette says, and Bruce decides to speak up.
“She was right.” He says, turning his chair to face them.
“SHIT! Goddamn you Bruce, why the hell would you sneak up on us like that?” Jason huffs out, glaring at him.
“Perhaps it’s the same reason that you three thought it was a good idea to steal the Batmobile.” Bruce says, crossing his arms.
“Uh, fuck that. I wasn’t in on it. I went out to try and find the little shits when I realized they were gone.” Jason argues, crossing his arms too.
“Ukht had never driven before. I believed it was a useful skill that she could utilize on future missions or patrols.” Damian says simply, his calm demeanor the complete opposite of Marinette’s current demeanor. She’s obviously panicked and anxious, avoiding looking at him. He feels his former resolve soften slightly. No one was hurt, they obviously felt bad. And Marinette obviously felt bad about it. But still….
“You’re benched for the night. Both of you.” He instructs. Damian grits his teeth but nods, while Marinette looks confused.
“But I’m not even-” She starts to say, stopping as Jason throws a hand over her mouth.
“Well, well, look at the time. I’ll take them upstairs and tuck ‘em in before patrol.” Jason says, rushing away with Marinette and leaving Damian behind. Damian turns to Bruce and frowns.
“It did not go unnoticed by me, Father, that you benched the one child you do not allow to patrol. You may have done this in an attempt to not punish Marinette, but make no mistake she will remember this. And she will be on patrol later this week. After all, you only benched her for tonight.” Damian says, nodding at his father before walking away. Bruce sighs. He hadn’t thought this one through.
---
“What was that for?” Marinette asks, frowning at her brother as he drags her to the house. She drops her transformation as they walk, wincing slightly at the ‘we’ll talk later’ look from Tikki. Oh yeah, she was definitely getting lectured.
“He just benched you for tonight, right?” Jason asks, a smirk on his face. Marinette huffs.
“Yeah, but I’m not even technically allowed on patrols.” She reminds him.
“Except now, you’re technically allowed to come tomorrow. He said you were ‘benched for the night’.” Jason points out. Marinette opens her mouth to argue, then closes it. She blinks before a wide smile stretches across her face. Was she really gonna get to go back on patrol on a technicality? Suddenly, she no longer regretted driving the Batmobile into the river.
Next
Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @laurcad123 @waiting247 @jayjayspixiepop @mizzy-pop @jjmjjktth @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82 @lady-bee-fechin @corporeal-terrestrial
#maribat#maribat fanfiction#maribat fanfic#maribat bio dad bruce#maribat bio dad! bruce wayne month 2021#maribat bio dad au#maribat bruce wayne#maribat marinette dupain cheng#maribat marinette dupain cheng is ladybird#maribat damian wayne#maribat jason todd#maribat jon kent#platonic timari#platonic jasonette#platonic dickinette#platonic daminette#mbdbwm2021
107 notes
·
View notes
Text
Strangeness and Charm
MGI 2021 One-Year Anniversary Gift Exchange
hello, im back for a little post for @khneltea you are the recipient for enemies to lovers and by gods i hope you like this! romantic, or well its implied, daminette enemies to lovers! also tagging @issaxcharlie as per requested in the server!
fic is under the cut!
Marinette understood that the bat team was sent to Paris to help her; now that it was just herself against Papillon, but she really wanted to kick Robin’s teeth in. She couldn’t stand him. He was a self-centered, entitled, little shit. How dare he come into her city and tell her how to do her job?
The akuma attacks had been sporadic since she had revoked Chat Noir’s miraculous and the only attack that had occurred since Robin and the rest of the bats had arrived was Mister Pigeon. However, if she was being honest with herself that hardly counted as an attack in her or anyone’s books anymore.
It took all of her self control to not throttle him on the rooftop, after she had cast the miraculous cure, when he said “If this is what qualifies as an attack for you, I would hate to see how you would fare against even one of Gotham’s villains.” She was livid, he had based his opinions on akuma attacks by one attack and one attack only.
He had only been in Paris for a week and this is how he treated her, because of one little flare up by their resident akuma magnet? He had no idea what even counted as an attack in Paris nowadays.
Mister Pigeon? Definitely not.
Siren? Absolutely.
Due to him being close to her in age, she had constantly paired up with him during her nightly patrols and she hated it. She wondered if this was his team's way of trying to get him to socialize or work on his people skills. If so, they were doing an absolutely shit job of it.
At this point she really had debated whether or not being on Batman’s shit list would be worth dangling Robin from the Eiffel Tower by his ankles. She could do it. She knows she could, she had done it before in fact, to Chat before she took his miraculous away from him. In the end, she decided that it wouldn’t be worth the trouble it would cause her; but if she did accidentally hit him with her yo-yo while patrolling with him that night, no one would be the wiser.
She elected to ignore the muttered curses and detoured from her usual route in an attempt to get away from the miserable bastard. Of course, Robin then scolded her for running away and being an inferior hero. At that point she decided to put even more distance between them, only to prevent herself from injuring a potential ally. If he could even be called that with his constant berating and demeanor.
It was then that she heard a scream, an akuma. Kwami, she hoped it wasn’t Sandboy again, especially since his usual appearances were during the night.
She cast a quick glance at Robin and decided to leave him be. She took off in the direction of the scream, he was preoccupied by something on his gauntlet, if the blue light it was emitting was an indicator. Besides she had been fighting akumas for years now, the last thing she needed was Robin’s attitude and chiding rather than his help.
He didn’t need to see her nightmares either if it was in fact Sandboy who was akumatized as well. Sure, she wasn’t exactly the same thirteen year old girl she was when she first started battling akumas but Robin certainly didn’t need any more ammunition to use against her.
He didn’t need to see that her nightmares were of herself, whispering in her ear, telling her to give up. That she was a failure, that she should just let Papillon have the miraculous. It would all be over, it wasn’t like she would remember that she was Ladybug anyways. Whatever wish he would make would erase the current timeline out of existence. She hated seeing it.
When she touched down on the street, the first thing she noticed was that it was empty. There was no sign of any akuma, no destruction or frozen bodies. There wasn’t anything, it was too empty, as if the people had just up and disappeared. It was incredibly unnerving.
Casting another look around, she saw something dart into the shadows of an alleyway. She jumped to a neighboring rooftop and looked down. There it was, the akuma. They didn’t look like anything special, no obnoxious colours or outrageous outfits. Just someone in a simple, sleek suit in muted colours, their hair tied back in a dark braid and a drooping butterfly mask that looked like ruined eyeliner.
They looked up and made eye contact. She flung herself back on the rooftop. The akuma’s eyes looked empty, there was no emotion or life in them. It was disconcerting.
She looked back down into the alleyway to try to get another read on the akuma. They were gone. She rose to her feet and looked around again, just in case she missed something.
“Well, well, well. Look at what we have here,” a low, gravelly voice called out. It sounded as if they had gargled glass. Marinette quickly turned around to see the akuma at the other end of the rooftop. “A little ladybug all alone. Let us see what kind of memories you hold, heroine.”
Then suddenly the akuma was in front of her, arm outstretched and their hand was pressed against her forehead. She watched as her memories played out in real time before her and the akuma. She watched as her memories played side by side, all at once. It was headache inducing.
Marinette saw the first friend she made in almost a decade. She saw Lila threaten her and her friendships. She saw the day she had met Tikki, and the day she had received guardianship of the miracle box from Fu. She watched as flashes of her homelife flashed by, the few happy memories of her parents before the bakery’s popularity increased, before they began to neglect her. Before Lila’s honeyed words ruined what little she had left of them.
She watched as memories of previous akuma attacks played out. Of how Chat Noir acted away from the crowds and cameras, how treated her like an object to be won rather than a person. She watched as she had scrubbed herself raw in the shower after he had touched her, as she scrubbed her teeth after he forced a kiss on her.
She watched as the attacks ended and her reunions with her friends had turned into screaming fits. The shouts of how she was flakey and that if she was just going to hang out with them only to ditch them halfway through their time together that they were no longer going to be friends anymore, that they were better off without her. She watched as Lila smiled from across the room, where she comforted her former friend. As Lila’s promises came to fruition.
She watched as her nightmares flashed by just as quick of her looking in the mirror, looking at the scars that the miraculous cure hadn’t healed. As her reflection had started to speak. That she should give up, let Papillon have the miraculous. That she wasn’t worth it, that she was all alone. As the whispered words of her former friends had joined in. She watched as images of Chat had appeared telling her that she was his and no one else’s.
She watched as she was left to pick up the pieces of her life.
Suddenly she was wrenched back and someone was holding her against their person. She could see one of the bat-themed vigilantes fighting against the akuma, it looked to be Red Hood with the way the streetlight was glinting off his helmet. She could hear herself breathing heavily and could feel the tears streaming down her face as she was swung away from the akuma.
When the person holding her landed on a different rooftop, she wrenched herself out of their arms. She hit the rooftop with a thud and scrambled as far away from them as she could possibly get; then she buried her face in her knees. She covered her ears with her hands, hoping to block out the unrelenting images of her memories and nightmares. She didn’t want to see or hear anything. She certainly didn’t want to see anyone’s pitying looks or hear their scorn. She just wanted to forget, this akuma was most definitely Papillon’s newest masterpiece.
She flinched when a hand settled on her shoulder and tried to inch away from it, without removing her hands from her ears. Unfortunately, the hand remained, grounding her ever so slightly. Finally she gave in and looked up. Robin was watching her, but rather than disdain or pity, his face was pinched with concern. She huffed out a laugh, it was weak and made Robin flinch. She shrugged his hand off and stood; she held her head high and wiped her tears away. Ignoring his questioning looks, she tossed her yo-yo out.
“Ladybug,” he said softly.
“Don’t. Whatever you have to say, keep it to yourself. I don’t care,” she croaked. She didn’t want to hear anything he had to say, she just wanted to be done with this night and its horrors.
“Ladybug,” he repeated. “Regardless of whatever you might think or feel, you are not alone. There are plenty of other heroes who know exactly how you feel, who have been exactly where you are.”
That stopped her in her tracks. Of course Robin of all people had seen her memories, her nightmares and her fears. She turned and glared at him, though she imagined it wasn’t all that effective. What with her tear streaked face and red eyes.
“I know how you feel,” Robin sighed and she deflated. “That your best is not enough, that you, yourself are not good enough. I have been in your shoes. I have felt alone.”
“Well, you certainly don’t act like it,” she sniped bitterly, closing in on herself.
“I apologize,” Robin stated.
“What?”
“I am sorry,” he repeated. “I realize that I may have come off as too brusque and in doing so have diminished your accomplishments.”
“Why?” she asked. “Why are you apologizing? You have nothing to be sorry for. You were right, I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m just playing at being a hero. My villain just found out my identity and so did all of you and your team.”
“That being, it was not, nor is it, your fault,” he replied. “I made assumptions of which I am at fault for, and of which caused the predicament of which you have found yourself in. You cannot quit or give up because of several imbeciles, because if you do, you let them win. You do not strike me as a sore loser, Ladybug.”
Marinette let out a laugh and watched as Robin’s expression shifted. He no longer looked concerned, but was now smiling wryly at her. She returned the smile. “Thank you Robin.”
“You are welcome,” he said. “Now I believe you have an akuma to take care of? Would you care for some assistance?”
“I would,” she replied.
“I look forward to working with you more,” he said, “Marinette.”
Marinette nodded, feeling her face flush at the way Robin said her name. “I do too Robin. I do too.”
90 notes
·
View notes
Text
Why I love Pre-Boot Tim Drake and why the Reboot has ruined him
I love Tim Drake. He is my favorite comic book character of all time. I’ve been really upset the past few days about what DC has been doing with him lately, and I thought it would be cathartic for me to write something up about it. (No, this isn’t a rant about Tim being bi/gay; it’s a much larger problem than that. But I’ll get to that in a bit.) Bear with me for a bit of history, first.
When I was a kid I loved the Batman Animated Series. I know this will lose me a lot of internet cred, but I always preferred the fourth season. In particular, I loved Tim Drake. He was fun and funny and I absolutely adored him. I used to beg my mom to take me to the mall so I could buy issues of Gotham Adventures. For my birthday one year my parents got me a subscription to the comic, and I was blown away by the idea that I could have comics MAILED to my HOUSE.
Around middle school I started collecting Marvel comics, mostly X-men stuff. I loved them, but when I started college I quit the hobby for financial reasons.
Fast forward a few years, and I felt I was financially stable enough to start buying comics again. Rather than going back to Marvel, I decided to give Batman comics a chance. I had no idea where to start, and when I found out my beloved Tim had his own comic series, I thought it was a perfect entry point into the Batman universe. I bought the complete series from a local comic shop and dove in.
Tim’s Robin series was exactly what I was looking for in a comic. He was very different from little Timmy Todd from BtAS, but I loved him. I built the rest of my comic collection around him, grabbing up every book that he was featured in, from Young Justice to Teen Titans to Batman, Detective Comics, Nightwing, Red Robin, and many others. I have random books from series like The Demon just because Tim was in them.
So why did I like Tim so much? What about this character made me so excited for more? I found in Tim something that I had never seen in a comic book before: character growth. Somehow, though he was written by many different authors over many different years, Tim managed to have a character arc that is consistent and makes sense. Sure, there were a few small bumps along the way, but on the whole Tim has always stayed true to his character, and he’s developed in a way that the big name characters, like Batman, never can.
When we’re first introduced to Tim, he’s a young teen who has been neglected by his parents growing up. He’s smart, healthy, and strong, but he lacks so much self confidence and has little sense of self worth. Tim notices Bruce’s increasing violence as he grieves for the loss of his son, and Tim knows he needs to step in and help. Batman needs a Robin.
For most characters, this would be the part where Tim put himself forward for the job. But he doesn’t. He seeks out Dick Grayson and begs him to come home instead. It’s only when Batman and Nightwing are in danger and there is literally no one else to help that Tim steps up and dons the cape. And once he does, he’s constantly plagued by self-doubt, terrified he will screw up and leave Batman worse than ever before.
From there, Tim undergoes intense training. He never begs to be in the spotlight, doesn’t push to go out on the streets before he’s ready. His goal is to help Bruce as much as possible.
Here’s where I started to fall in love with him. All that self-doubt, the constant need to be useful? That’s exactly what you would expect to see from a child whose parents had ignored and neglected him. He finally has a parental figure who sees him, who values him, and Tim does everything he can to make himself worthy in the hopes that Bruce will keep him around.
This is the first example of character consistency that we see with Tim. And it continues. When his mom dies and his dad is put in a coma, you see Tim struggle to come to terms with losing the people he loves, but never had a relationship with. Tim almost never mentions his mom after her death, because she just wasn’t present in his life. When his dad recovers and decides to stick around, Tim struggles to build a relationship with him. He’s plagued with guilt because he’s finally found the father figure he needed in Bruce, but he thinks that he’s supposed to feel that way for Jack. It’s a running undercurrent in their relationship that creates distance between them for years.
This is already so long, so I’m going to try to summarize a bit more. We get to watch Tim grow up. We see his awkward relationship with his first girlfriend, Ariana. He doesn’t know how to treat her; he’s never had the opportunity to observe a healthy relationship. But he tries so, so hard. All of Tim’s relationships are awkward, because he’s never had a model of a good one. Steph is a great match for him, because she’s very vocal about what she wants and needs, and she isn’t afraid to call Tim out when he messes up, which is exactly what Tim needs.
Big things happen to Tim. He’s stuck with Jean-Paul Valley, who slowly goes insane, leaving Tim to try to keep the city in one piece. He’s infected with the Clench, a plague that sweeps over Gotham and kills everyone it touches, and barely escapes with his life. His girlfriend is sexually assaulted, leaving him to deal with the fallout. His family moves out of Gotham, and he has to sneak back in during No Man’s Land to help. His relationship with his dad has intense ups and downs, resulting in him being sent to boarding school, punished in a variety of ways, and generally caused a lot of trouble in his life.
Then people start dying. Over the course of about a year in his life, Tim loses his girlfriend, his dad, a close friend, and his best friend, each of whom dies under tragic conditions. Tim’s grief is intense, and he is understandably traumatized by the losses. We see fundamental changes in his character. He changes his costume from something bright and cheerful to something darker that reflects his emotional state. He’s more subdued, his adventures a little more serious.
When Bruce first tries to adopt him, Tim literally creates an uncle and hires an actor to play him, just to avoid dealing with the situation. Bruce has viewed Tim as a son for years, so to him the adoption is an obvious step. For Tim, it feels like a betrayal of his father, and it takes a while before he’s ready to accept Bruce’s love, home, and a place in his family.
When Damian shows up on the scene, Tim really struggles with him, and not just because early Damian is a horrid brat who tries to kill Tim on multiple occasions. Tim has always felt the need to earn his place with Bruce, and Damian constantly throws all of Tim’s biggest fears in his face—he’s not wanted or needed now that the “real” son is here, he’s not worthy of a place in the family, he’s not good enough.
Tim tries to clone Conner, his best friend. He’s lost so many people, and he’s desperate to get them back. Conner was cloned to begin with and fully matured over a very short period of time; the technology clearly exists, so why can’t Tim use it to get his best friend back? And if he can get Conner back, why not the others he’s lost? He eventually gives up, but when he eventually gets access to a Lazarus Pit, he immediately wants to incorporate the waters into his process so he can revive his loved ones. With Dick’s help, Tim eventually decides to let it go, but it’s such a poignant moment for the character.
Then Bruce dies, and Dick takes Robin away. Tim switches to the Red Robin persona as he travels the world, alone, trying to prove that he was right. He has to deal with the trauma of losing another father, finds out that his girlfriend never died but let him hurt so much for so long. His brother and the only close friend he has left both think his grief has overwhelmed his sense and that he’s gone crazy. He’s utterly alone.
The Red Robin series is such a great culmination for Tim. He finds a place for himself as a hero, as a CEO. He gets parts of his family back—Bruce, Steph, Bart, Conner. He finally figures out who he wants to be and creates a place for himself.
This overarching character development is what I love about Tim. His many, many traumas impact his decisions, and you can clearly see how he changes over time as a result of them. I didn’t even go into his development as a leader from his early fumbling with Young Justice to his strong leadership of the Teen Titans, or how his relationships with Conner, Bart, and Cassie develop so fluidly and realistically over the years.
This is why I love Tim. Characters like Batman are static; nothing that happens to them will ever have a lasting impact, because in the end the character always returns to what they were. Tim, on the other hand, has changed and developed A LOT since his initial appearance. His growth has always been consistent and logical.
When the reboot happened, all of that character growth was lost. Tim was replaced with a jerk who betrayed his friends and cheated on his girlfriend. DC has basically retconned all of this and tried to turn Tim back into who he was, but by taking away all of the things that have happened to him over the years, Tim has lost SO MUCH.
I keep looking for my Tim in recent comics, and I just can’t find him. It breaks my heart, because I love him so much, and it feels like he’s lost to me forever. The most recent Young Justice comic series actually gave me hope; I felt like maybe, finally, someone was going to write Tim correctly. He had his primary friendships back, his relationship with Steph was developing (even if they seem to have completely dropped all the development around Steph’s decision to let Tim think she was dead). The actual book itself wasn’t fantastic, but it felt like they were headed in the right direction.
Over the last few days, I read the Batman: Urban Legends books. I actually read the Batman/Red Hood story first, which was fantastic. I was really excited to read Tim’s story (though I already knew how it ended). Jason’s character was handled so well, and he seemed to actually have some character development that will hopefully last. I anticipated the same for Tim.
But Tim’s story was awful. The plot was all over the place—kids are being kidnapped, so Tim has to join a pain cult to get them back? He’s somehow helping Oracle with computer issues while simultaneously questioning witnesses? He’s broken up with Steph, off camera, shortly after telling her how much he loves her, but Steph somehow thinks that they should have a caring relationship where Tim tells her what he’s feeling? Bernard has somehow become a good enough fighter to stand side by side with Robin? Tim STILL doesn’t have a code name? Why is everyone suddenly hounding him about what he wants to do with his life?
It’s just such a mess of a story. If it didn’t end with Tim agreeing to go on a date with Bernard, no one would ever have even mentioned it. There’s nothing particularly re-readable or enjoyable about it.
I actually liked that they brought Bernard back. I really enjoyed him in the original Robin series. It’s been a while since I read that part of the series (I’m actually working my way back through it now). I know Bernard always read as gay to me, yet somehow I felt like he was out of character in these books.
And then, the climax of the story. Tim is bi, or gay, or has at least agreed to go on a date with a boy.
If this had happened in the pre-boot, when Tim was Red Robin and had an actual character arc, I honestly wouldn’t have had an issue with it. I do think it would have needed a LOT more build up than it was given here. Tim has always been a very introspective character, and we’ve been party to so much of his internal monologue over the years. It seems very strange to me that such a huge thing just sneaks up on him out of nowhere when he’s never even thought about it before.
But more than that, this story just feels like the final death blow for the Tim I loved. The whole arc is about how Tim doesn’t know who he is or who he wants to be. What will his hero name be? Will he go to college? What is he going to do with his life? These are all great questions, and his answer to all of them is… date a boy?
Is this going to be his defining characteristic going forward? From here will we just see Tim exploring and discovering his sexuality? The Tim we have now doesn’t have a family, a team, a purpose, or even a code name. Why was this the thing that DC decided to give us? It feels like they wanted to make a gay Robin and decided it would be Tim because they didn’t know what else to do with him.
It’s stupid, but I honestly feel like I’ve spent the past few days grieving the loss of a loved one. The Tim that DC is presenting now is just not the person that I knew. Tim would never break up with Steph that abruptly for what he admits is no apparent reason. He would never say “just call me Robin, since Damian’s out of town.” Everything that I love about Tim seems to be gone, and in its place DC has given me a date with a boy.
Again, it’s not Tim being not-straight that I have an issue with. I’ve never read the character that way, but it’s something I can live with. My issue is the way it was handled. Why not make Tim an actual person first, and then explore his sexuality? Send him off to college! He’s obviously thinking about it! It’s the perfect opportunity to give him his own book. He can move to a different city, choose a new name, and DC can introduce a whole new set of characters. Figure out which parts of Tim’s backstory are still canon, and which have been dropped. Make him a person again, and then let him explore his sexuality.
I know this post is all over the place, and I don’t have time right now to go back and edit it. I just really needed an outlet for my frustration. Right now it feels like there are so many people who are so excited about Tim being bi/gay, but they don’t know anything else about him. I keep seeing people comment how DC has been “dropping hints for years!” with no evidence other than “he and Superboy were really close!” I guess I’d just really like to have some dialogue with other people who are fans of Tim, rather than fans of Tim-as-bi/gay or fans of Tim-as-straight.
Does anyone else feel this way? I’d honestly like to have a dialogue about it with other long time fans.
#Tim Drake#Red Robin#this is a long one#pre-boot vs reboot#this formatting is a little weird#Batman: Urban Legends 6#Batman: Urban Legends 5#Batman: Urban Legends 4
109 notes
·
View notes
Text
Smoke and Mirrors
pairing: jason todd x reader, childhood friends
warning: language, slightly heated towards the end but it’s very mild, smoking - i’m not a smoker nor do i condone it, don’t do it kids
a/n: references some early stuff from RHATO (2011)
“The girls at the diner used to call those cancer sticks.”
You thought it was pretty ironic for him to say that when he plucked the cigarette you were holding right out of your hand, leaning against the railing of the balcony and seeming utterly unabashed. You hadn’t even heard him landing beside you until he started speaking.
You made a face at him as he unlocked and slid his helmet off while grinning at you in a typical self-satisfied fashion, bringing the cigarette to his own lips.
“Let me guess,” you started dryly, watching a plume of smoke swirl out of his mouth as he took a drag. “That’s why you took their warning very seriously and told yourself to never, ever smoke one.”
“I never said that,” he protested with another obnoxious laugh as he turned to glance over at you. “You made that shit up yourself. Not my problem.”
You rolled your eyes at him before moving to fish out your pack and lighter out again, half-heartedly settling another one between your lips and lighting it up. Jason’s eyes followed the smoke back to you, his own expression unreadable.
“And I thought you said you quit this shit.”
You shrugged, not quite looking at him when you opened your mouth to answer.
“People say stuff all the time, Hood. What did you expect?” Your words were directed towards a little more than just smoking. A beat passed before he shrugged it off.
“Hell if I know.”
You both sat there for a while in silence as you smoked, watching the grey clouds stray towards the hazy glow of the setting sun on the horizon. The city beneath you was beautiful tonight, a seemingly endless stretch of dark gleaming buildings reflecting the pinks and oranges of the sunset. You wanted to relish that moment more than anything for a while, and you did.
You closed your eyes and let the cigarette leave your mouth, clouds falling from your lips, nicotine buzzing in your bloodstream.
It would be a beautiful night. You could tell.
When you opened your eyes, you felt Jason’s eyes on you again and your turned your head to meet them. In the sunset, they really did glow a strange hue of green - yet another marker from his swim in the Lazarus. You hadn’t seen those eyes in quite a while.
“What, you want to take a picture?” you started in a somewhat jestful tone at his expression. “It’ll last longer.”
“Would you let me?” was his rather cocky comeback as he took his own cigarette out of his mouth, another smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “‘cus I don’t have anything against that idea, per se-”
“I was joking-”
“Right, totally.”
“I was!” The look on his face was infuriating enough to let you know that he didn’t believe shit. You let out a rather long and weary sigh. “I thought you weren’t planning on coming back anytime soon.” And at last, the disdain you had been trying so hard to contain from him was surfacing in your tone.
And clearly, from the way he was staring at you, he seemed to notice.
His latest adventures with his new friends, dubbed The Outlaws, hadn’t exactly been on the down-low. You knew one of them, Roy Harper, from being his best friend from a long time ago, and you had seen the glowing orange alien chick who accompanied them for the past few months on the news after he had taken off from Gotham.
You couldn’t deny the fact that you had been more than a little dismayed by the fact that he hadn’t even bothered to give you some sort of goodbye before they left, either - no visits, no phone calls, no letters, not even a poorly placed sticky note on the front of your apartment door left to get swept away by some janitor when it fell off.
You woke up one morning and heard from his brother that he wasn’t around Gotham anymore, no real explanations as to why the hell that was.
He just disappeared.
“You’re not thrilled to see me?” he attempted with mock hurt, and you gave him a very unimpressed look. “Sure, doll. I see how it is.” You acted like the nickname didn’t affect you as much as it did, because he didn’t deserve the satisfaction of otherwise.
“You know what I mean, Jason.”
“I thought it was Hood?” He caught your look again. “Jeez, I’m just fucking around.” The silence stretched on and he at least had the sense to look a little guilty when he spoke again. “Y/N. Listen, I’m - I’m sorry.”
You didn’t say anything for a while, your eyes still fixed ahead on the horizon. What did he expect you to say?
“I didn’t plan on leaving like that, I just - shit happened. And I didn’t want to stay in this shithole of a city for longer than I had to, anyways.”
Of course. He was bad at goodbyes, so he never said them. You were above chasing after him, so you never did.
“You could’ve at least made a call after you left.” The cigarette was still burning in your hands, the white filter crumbling away in the wind. “Or, I dunno, sent a text, or even a damn email or something. Anything.” Even you were surprised by the contempt lacing your voice with every word you spoke. You had told yourself he had to have had his reasons for leaving and that you wouldn’t waste your own time being angry at him. But somehow, you couldn’t help it. It had hurt more than you chose to realize. “It’s been months.” For once, his passive expressions and sarcasm had been replaced with something else.
Remorse.
“I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal to you.” You almost let out an incredulous laugh at that.
“Not a big deal to me? Are you serious?” You turned back to face him and he pursed his lips, clearly having realized that he had said the wrong thing. “After you came back - from the dead - and after everything that happened, you seriously thought I wouldn’t care what happened to you?” Jason opened his mouth, then wisely closed it while you tossed your cigarette down to crush it beneath your heel. “Wow, Jason, you knew me way better than I thought you did.”
“I didn’t mean to leave,” he tried again after a beat, taking a half-step towards you. “I wasn’t - I was on a mission, and this submarine thing with the dudes I was dealing with blew up, and then I woke up like a week later on this island thing with a Tamaranean alien princess who thought I was Dick, and then I found out Roy was gonna get executed, so-” He seemed to realize how incredulous that sequence of events sounded from the look on your face. So he let out a sigh, wringing his hands. “Okay. Yeah. I was kind of a douche.”
“Kind of?”
“I was definitely a douche,” he amended with another sigh, running a hand through his dark hair. He took a breath. “But I did mean it. I’m sorry.”
And you knew he meant it when he said that. Even back in his unruly days as a Robin, when your friendship had first formed, you had figured out that it was ridiculously hard for Jason Todd to let go of his pride and apologize for basically anything. When he got older, it admittedly hadn’t gotten all that much better.
Until now, apparently. Just a little. And you could never stay angry at him for very long, as much as you might have tried.
You let out a sigh yourself, glancing up at him.
“When did you even get back?”
Jason made a show of fishing his phone out of his pocket and taking a look before answering.
“About - twenty minutes ago.” He cleared his throat a little. “I wanted to see you.” There it was again - that infuriating feeling in your chest.
“Did you?” You tried to keep your tone as neutral as possible as he rubbed the back of his neck, somewhat awkwardly glancing away from you before he spoke again.
“Yeah. I missed you.”
Well fuck. That was a big one.
“I guess I missed having you around. Sometimes.” He chuckled at your attempt to be nonchalant, stepping even closer to you.
“That’s it? That’s all I get?” You rolled your eyes at him, refusing to say otherwise. You weren’t about to give in to him.
“Yeah, that’s all you-” Before you could finish, he had cut you off with a kiss. And in another moment, after his arms wrapped around your waist to pull you in closer, you realized your entire train of thought had been derailed completely because your best friend was kissing you.
“Get?” he offered when he pulled away again, another rather smug smile playing at his lips when you managed to look at him again, clearly flustered. “You sure about that?”
You appropriately told Jason to fuck off before you pulled him down towards you again for another kiss. And that kiss turned into another, then another, and another.
Your seemingly blasé attitude towards him and his constant teasing towards you had always helped you both shy away from whatever it was that you actually felt towards the other. It was easier to laugh at each other, or flirt, or push each other away than to actually move past your pride and admit how you felt.
But then again, between tender caresses and heated kisses, you didn’t think there was a need to really say anything out loud. Where his hands were on your body alone could tell anyone what was going on in his head.
You had missed him more than you could express in words, and it was increasingly clear that he had felt the exact same way. Your relationship had always toyed at the fine line between friendship and something more, and your actions in that moment had firmly moved you both past the former.
For so many years, your respective egos had provided a cover from a truth neither of you had been ready to come to terms with. But now, beneath the haze of cigarette smoke, sheets, and Gotham sunsets, you could finally see what exactly that was. There had always been something more underneath all of your smoke and mirrors.
And although it wouldn’t be right then and there, eventually, you’d clear all of that smoke away.
#pandemonium scrawl#i'm gonna be honest idk where this came from#it's been sitting in my drafts for literal weeks#and then i decided to randomly work on it and wow look at me#posting twice in the span of four days damn#i should be studying for my damn apush exam#dc#dc comics#jason todd#red hood#jason todd x you#jason todd x reader#jason todd x yn#jason todd imagine#red hood imagine#angst#fluff#romance#reader insert#jason todd fluff#godspeed
178 notes
·
View notes
Text
Settle Down: Prologue
**Gif Not Mine**
Prev - Next
Pairings: SpencerXReader (kinda enemies to lovers)
Rating: M
Words: 2.5K
Warnings: None, will be smut in eventual chapters
Request: OPEN/CLOSED
Summary: Y/N and Spencer don’t get along but turn to each other for the one thing you need someone else for... A baby. You can plantonically start a family, right?
A.N: this is a bad bio but idk how else to put it. it’s a baby fic! I wouldn’t say this is enemies to lovers but they certainly don’t like each other at first so it kinda is. comment on this chap or message to be on the taglist. much love, Cia
Prologue: A Powerpoint, Really?
If you had told 16 year old Y/N that she’d be working at the FBI, she would’ve called you batshit.
Not only, did you not have any respect for authority or any inclination for rules in that matter, working for the FBI was never in the forefront of your mind. But when given the option of Jail or a full time job with benefits, it was fairly easy to make a choice. You remember the first day when you met your work partner and now best friend Penelope Garcia or specifically the day she caught you.
You were waiting tables like you did every weekend to stay afloat. Today was unreasonably slow so you were just finding small things to do. That’s when she came in, an extremely brightly dressed woman, sat at the bar of the diner.
“Hi, how can I help you?” You smile at the woman who looks up at you and smiles.
“Yes, I’m looking for the Emerald City.” She says, smirking at you. Your face drops, you knew what she was talking about.
When you started hacking it was only supposed to be a one time thing. You grew up poor, spent most of your life poor so when you saw your childhood home was set to be demolished to build a fancy new headquarters for Scotty Realins, an upcoming asshole tech CEO, without a cent going to your parents. Something in you snapped. You had already been pretty decent at code and you flirted with a couple of guys in your STEM classes to learn how to hack so you would say you were pretty good at this point. So you hacked into the website and made sure all the Revenue for that day actually was wired to lower-income housing. At the end of the day, it was only a couple hundred thousand dollars but what was pennies to Scotty Realins changed some people's lives.
So you started doing it more, to different companies under the pseudonym OZ. The money always went to different places that needed it whether it was paying the rent for a bunch of families or anonymous large donations to food banks or soup kitchens. You gained a bit of fame in the hacker community as a modern day Robin Hood.
All good things come to an end though. And the end was standing in front of you in clunky, rainbow colored jewelry.
“You don’t look like a cop.” you say, crossing your arms.
“I’ll do you one better.” She says, pulling her FBI badge out, showing it to you briefly. You curse under your breath. “I’ve been following you for a while, OZ. Though I wasn’t expecting the man behind the curtain to be a woman. I will say, having my computers route back to a loop of “We’re not in Kansas anymore.” everytime I tried to track your IP was impressive. I couldn’t even be mad about it.”
“Clearly not that impressive because you found me.”
“Still took me longer than usual, which is saying a lot.”
“This is a really long winded conversation if you’re just here to arrest me.” You say, taking off your apron. No use in keeping it on if you were going to be in handcuffs soon.
“That’s because I’m not here to arrest you. I’m here to offer you a job, to work under me as a Tech Analyst in the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.” Penelope says.
“And if I don’t want to?”
“Then you’re going to want a lawyer and my very good handsome friend outside is going to arrest you. You’re smart and you have a chance to help people which is why you started hacking in the first place, right? Please don’t make me do that.” She looked at you pleadingly like she really cared and didn’t want you to go to prison. You didn’t say anything but something told you she’d been in the same boat as you before.
“Hmmm…. I’m tired of waiting tables anyway.”
So you uprooted your life and moved from Philadelphia to Quantico. Garcia took you under her wing and pretty soon the two of you functioned in her batcave like a well oiled machine. You could do without the constant gore that filled your screens but at the end of the day, you loved what you were doing and you wouldn’t change that for the world.
The team was an added bonus, it was nice to have your own little found family. Garcia, of course, taking on the role as best friend mere days after your first meeting. You met Derek Morgan right after you agreed to take the job, he’d been there to arrest you and was very glad he wouldn’t have to do that. He told you often about how you reminded him of his sister and he regarded you in the role of younger sister from that day on. The next person you met had been Aaron Hotchner, your new boss. It took him a couple of weeks to warm up to you, you guessed he had a difficulty trusting new people and when he would call you guys for information he would always ask for Garcia instantly instead of you, not very trusting in your skills yet. Though that changed when you had been the one to track down the Unsub once.
Rossi was easily won over when you told him about your Italian side of the family, specifically your grandmother who loved to cook and left you a lot of recipes. You and him often went back and forth in sharing dishes. Emily and JJ had also been easily won over with one bottle of tequila and a regrettable girls night.
Then there was Dr. Spencer Reid.
You had a lot of opinions on Dr. Reid, most of them weren’t good. It wasn’t like you hated him in fact, you’d consider him a friend but the two of you seemed to butt heads on well, everything. Both of you needing to be the smartest in the room and neither of you wanting to admit when you’re wrong will do that though. You still respected Spencer though, he was an extreme asset to the team and he was your best friend’s other best friend so you couldn’t really hate the guy.
You also didn’t have to like him.
So you had a good job, good friends, a nice house to live in. You were finally happy, content even. So why did it feel like something was missing?
The something missing came in a stroller pushed by JJ the next week.
The last case had been rough. Really rough. So while the team was on their way back you and Garcia hatched a plan for JJ to come visit from maternity leave and surprise everyone with the baby. While you guys were waiting for them to land, Garcia wanted to show JJ something she had gotten her godson so JJ asked if you could watch him and feed him until she got back, which you obviously agreed to. As you were feeding the child his bottle, and his ravioli sized fist wrapped around your finger you realized what had been missing.
Fuck, you wanted a kid.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
You told Garcia first, it slipped when she noticed how off you were being. You wanted to have a kid bad now and you knew you didn’t want to wait. Penny tried to convince you that you’d “find the right person” but let’s face it, with this job, long term relationships were few and far inbetween. Plus you didn’t need a man, you had a good job and insurance, you knew you could provide a child with a life full of love it deserved. So you made an appointment at a fertility clinic. As the doctor was talking to you about your options, you felt yourself feeling more and more down about your decision and that only increased as you looked in the book of sperm donors in front of you. You looked at too many serial killers daily that it made you uneasy, carrying a stranger's baby. Maybe Garcia was right and your best bet was to wait for ‘the right guy.’ Even though you really didn’t want to.
You walked into work later, a little sullen. Heading immediately towards the coffee machine. Penelope, who had been at Derek’s desk, makes a beeline towards you.
“So how’d it go?” She says, smiling. “Did you make an appointment to be baby-fied?”
You sigh. “I couldn’t do it, Pen.” You say, frowning. “I just-- We see so much here that I don’t want to accidentally end up with a sociopath’s baby because I couldn’t wait.”
“But you don’t want to wait, do you?” She says softly, empathizing with you.
“No, I don’t.” You sigh again, finishing making your cup before walking back out into the bullpen. JJ had brought Henry again for the others to see on the slow paperwork day. You tried not to look bitter but it was like she was flaunting the one thing you couldn’t have, even if it was unintentional. You watched as she handed the baby to Spencer, who instantly smiled and made faces at the laughing baby.
“Spencer is actually a surprisingly good godfather.” Garcia says, smiling at the exchange in front of you. “Kinda makes you wonder what he’d be like with his own baby geniuses.” She says before walking over to the group and scooping her godson out of Spencer’s arms, Spencer still held on to his fist with his pinky, smiling down at the child.
“Yea…” You say, to no one in particular.
You had an idea. A probably bad one.
-------------------------------------------------------
You were sitting in the coffee shop, nervously fiddling on your laptop while waiting for Spencer. You were surprised he even agreed to meet with you for coffee though you were sure he was just doing it out of curiosity because you told him you had something important to talk about. You weren’t even sure if you were going about this the right way. Hey Spencer, I know we’re not even friends but how would you feel about fathering my child? God, this was going to be terrible.
You looked up when you heard the tell-tale bell on the door indicating someone walking in. Spencer gave you a small wave before going to the counter to get a coffee. You took that time to nervously sip yours. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, it was now or never.
“Hey.” Spencer says, when he finally gets to the table, coffee in hand. “Why are you all the way in the corner?”
“This isn’t really a conversation I want overheard.”
Spencer tilts his head confused at that. “So what is the conversation we’re supposed to be having. I asked Garcia but she seemed to also have no idea.”
“Yea, I didn’t tell her on account of this maybe going extremely bad.” You say, before sighing and turning your laptop around so Spencer could see the Powerpoint screen you have on it. When he reads it, he chokes on his coffee.
“A Powerpoint, really?” He chokes, still coughing around the coffee. “Y/N, what is this?”
“This is Reasons Why You Should Make a Baby With me.”
“Yea, I got that from the title, Y/N.” He says, still shocked. “Is this a joke?!”
“I wish it was, Reid.”
“Can I at least ask why you thought a Powerpoint was the best way to ask?”
“Because I felt you’d be more inclined to consider it if you knew I spent time on a presentation.”
“That’s true.” He leans back, taking a sip of his coffee, gesturing for you to continue. You hit the next slide.
“Ok, reason number one is we both want kids.” You say, looking at him. “Garcia told me the other day that you were talking about how much you wanted a kid and I also want a kid.”
“I did tell Garcia that.” He muses.
“Reason two, an offspring between us would probably result in another genius. As you know, you are smart.”
“Yes.”
“And I am smarter.” You say, Spencer opens his mouth to protest but you keep talking. “A child between us could probably be the next Einstein.”
Spencer nods and you continue. “Reason three, I’d be a great mom.”
“That’s a debatable fact.”
“No, it’s not. You’ve seen me around kids, have I ever given an inclination that I wouldn’t be?” You ask, he shakes his head. “Plus, I happen to think you’d be a great father. Which brings me to Reason 4.” You say clicking through the next slide. “If you don’t want to be involved in raising that’s fine. I’m perfectly fine raising the child myself an--”
“What?! No!” Spencer says, sitting up. “If I do agree to have this baby, which I’m not completely doing yet. I want to be involved, I want them to know I’m their father and that I didn’t abandon them because I know what that’s like.” He says, seriously. You nod, already knowing this about Spencer.
“Reason 5: I’d be the perfect platonic co-parent, I won’t ask you for anything unless it’s pertaining to the child and if you decide that later down the road you want your own family, I’d be supportive and help you along the way.”
Spencer nods. “We’re never home enough for a baby.”
“That’s where you’re wrong because I’ll be here. I mainly stay here anyway and if there’s ever a case where you need a tech analyst to fly out, Garcia’s already agreed to have it already be her when I floated the baby idea around last month.”
Spencer hummed, silent for a second. “You really want a kid, huh?”
“Yes.” You say.
“So much so you’re asking me?” Spencer says, matter-of-factly. “A Coworker you barely speak to?”
Well, when he says it like that.
“Yes. I’m asking because while we don’t get along the best you are still one of the most compassionate, understanding men I know. And I know that if I have to raise this kid with somebody, you would love them just as much as I would.” You say, Spencer nods at that. “So, please?”
Spencer sighs. “When’s your next appointment? At the fertility clinic?”
You didn’t even want to ask how he knew about that. “Next tuesday.”
He nods. “I’m going with you.” He says, standing, pulling the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder. “This isn’t a yes.”
“It’s not a no, either.” You point out.
“No, it’s not.” He says, leaving you behind in the coffee shop with a huge grin on your face.
Taglist: @moonshinerbynight @crimeshowtrash
Message/reply to be tagged!!
#spencer x reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer x you#spencer reid x you#spencer x reader smut#spencer x y/n#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fluff#bau x reader
692 notes
·
View notes
Text
Idea: ReverseRobins!Damian wakes up in the body of canon!Damian.
Details:
>In both worlds, Tim is Red Robin and Jason is Red Hood.
>Tim in Reverse Robins don't kill people, he maims them, with the belief that without limbs, they're unable to hurt people and can focus on regaining their sanity that way (he died by killing himself after being turned into Joker Jr). "They can regain their minds without their limbs. Especially without their limbs."
>And unlike Lazarus!Jason, his main emotions isn't anger, but apathy. Doesn't care for anything that isn't his Mission. If you get in his way is the only time he'd give you attention.
>Rr Jason took on the name of the Red Hood because it won't be traced back to the Bats (same reason canon!Tim wore Red Robin).
>Damian's reaction to Tim's death hadn't been to retreat, but to lash out. It was a... very bloody few months for Gotham and Bludhaven.
>Rr Tim never went out of his way to try to kill Rr Jason because he, just, doesn't care. But Jason tried to stop him once from brutally maiming someone and the consequences was... bloody, to say the least.
>Rr Tim kind of totally blackmailed Bruce into being his official guardian after both his parents died in Haiti (because Bruce wasn't there to slap the poison from Jack).
>Rr Damian finds it very weird that Jon is younger than him here.
>Because there were already other kid fighters before Rr Tim entered the picture, and he never expressed interest in specializing in combat, Rr Tim had been the sort of Oracle of the Rr Bats, doing most of what Alfred does in the cave so the old butler can focus more on maintaining the manor and also just lightening his burden. He only has Robin sometimes and is mostly trained for mid to long range (because unlike Damian, Steph, and Duke, he didn't come with street fighting experience and since he never pushed, Bruce was fine letting his sort of son do his thing in the background, primarily trained in dodging -Not that it helped him with Harley's mallet, Damian bitterly thinks).
>When ReverseR Tim came back from the League though, he knew how to fight close combat (a Chinese war sword I think is the name of the weapon I'm thinking) which is the main reason the Bats didn't recognize him immediately.
>ReverseR Stephanie was paralyzed and started handling the comms and the medical stuff. She's a med-student but probably has more know how than doctors twice her age. She was Batgirl first then became Spoiler when she pass it on to Cass. Because "Spoiler alert, there's a guy coming up to your ten and Penguin is having his unboxing of some sick weapons".
>Jealousy did get in the way of Rr Damian and Tim's relationship but it had gotten better. The last time they saw each other before Tim was ambushed by the New villain Harley Quinn on the way back home, Damian had thrown him out, tired of people trying to make him feel better after something happened to Jon. (I'm tempted to deage Jon as his canon was aged up.....).
>Rr Jason uses guns and it's allowed because his big brother is Damian.
>Just as Dick set the tone for the following Robins, Damian did the same for his Robin (Hoods). Just as Thirteen Jason had been a much happy and peppy kid than Nineteen year old Dick Grayson, Thirteen Tim is much more like Bruce than Nineteen Damian, so the friction mostly came from there. Also Ra's liked Tim a bit too much so there's also that....
>Rr Damian is absolutely the aloof helicopter parent. Which does sound contradictory, but he makes it work. Rr Damian and Rr Jason have their own version of Dick and Tim's relationship closeness. (The flaw in this is that he's like Bruce in that... if he believes its good for you, he can convince himself he doesn't need to get your consent. He knows better.)
>Rr Jason and Cass are very close but disagree quite a lot. You can always find them bickering. From who's the older one to who gets shotgun in the Batmobile, to things like morals and which classics actually deserve to be burned.
>Talia tossed Jason in the Lazarus but Rr Tim had been healed by Ra's.
>Rr Tim had been tortured same amount of time as Tim Todd, and he also had that chip. Only difference, he'd also been programmed into following Joker's orders to the letter. "Kill him JJ!!" "No! Tim, don't be a killer."
Tim can't kill Bruce. He also can't kill Joker.
There were only three 'hims' in that room.
"Kill him JJ!"
The only reason I want Damian to be there at the scene, like, just a few seconds late, is because I want flashbacks. Then again, he can also just watch the same recording Bruce probably tortures himself by watching too.
>Pre-Jason death was Bruce, Alfred, Dick, and Barbie. Pre-RrTim death was Bruce, Alfred, Damian, Duke, Cass, Steph.
>Young Justice happened too but Tim just had Superboy and Impulse wear cameras and comms. Tho Tim still met Bart personally in civilian. And steadily drawn out eventually for him to appear in person more.
>Not really Bat related, but Kon has a much better reception with Jon excited for a baby brother.
>Rr Dick is A.DO.RA.BLE. And kept far, far away from Rr Tim.
>Rr Barbara is the third Batgirl after Cass becomes Black Bat and Jason is Red Hood.
>During the Bruce is dead (in the Reverse Robins-verse), there is no Battle of the Cowl (duh, no matter what world Tim still wouldn't seek it out without sound and desperate reasons and Damian had literally spent his whole life assurinb his stake on it)(it still happened in canon-verse tho), but I don't know if I want RR!Damian to Possess canon!Damian before, after, or during it. They fully believe that Rr Bruce is dead until Rr Jason's path cross with Rr Tim and Tim.... hmmm, he genuinely doesn't care, so I wonder how and why he's going to drop a hint. This time, Tim knows because he'd seen some ancient records in the League but Tim didn't really pursue that. He wants something from Jason in exchange, and after that hint, Jason then goes on his trip around the world for proof he barely believes is there but can't help but hope. He does not tell Damian because he's not going to give the blood son possible false hope. And also I'm not sure the difference in how Damian would've handled the Robin debacle since Dick wouldn't take it from his big brother, but Kid Dick is a very angry vengeful little shit that really wants to go kill Tony Zucco so.... Jason was probably guilted/forced into passing it on for the kid's sake and there's just a tiny, tiny bit of bitterness.
>And i also want a scene where canon!Tim and Rr!Jason share a commiserating look after having to deal with this shitshow of a family and their respective predecessors' shit.
To elaborate: Timeline is further along in canon. So Reverse Robins are still around dead/lost!Bruce while canon!verse is sometime after they've retrieved Bruce and Dick is out of the Cowl.
#dc#robin#batfam#dc comics#damian wayne#tim drake#red robin#batman#dick grayson#jason todd#nightwing#red hood#reverse robins#and i write#body switch#stephanie brown#cassandra cain#duke thomas#barbar gordon#batgirl#spoiler#oracle#black bat#signal#fic idea#fic prompt#fic recs
72 notes
·
View notes
Note
I have read your thought about the Batfamily, now I really want to know your thought about the one who started it, the Batman himself. We can't ignore the fact that Bruce is abusing his children, but there's also some moments where he's being a good father to them. But some of his act doesn't make sense.
He's beating his children, then calling them his son after. He act like a mad man after Damian's death (yeah, they did Jason dirty in here), feeling sorrow and desperately wanting to ressurect him, but then neglecting him continously in the future. I didn't know much about Cass, Bruce seems to always be a good father to her. But her fans once pointed that Bruce (or DC) is too hard on her to not killing/too soft on the others, because the other batkids has killed some villains while under Batman and still got to continue putting on their costumes.
What is exactly Bruce character? How is his relationship with every one of his children?
I feel like Batman can't be in a good relationship with one of his children without destroying his relationship with the other. I always love parents and children relationship in comics, but with batfamily sometimes it just so 'fanon-y' and some are hurtful.
I stopped reading Batman book for a long time. And come back reading that wedding and city of bane arc, because I want to know how they killed Alfred. And honestly those run are terrible. The issue basically just a batcat fanservice, with the worst Batman and Catwoman characterization ever. The batkids didn't even got many appearance and treated awfully as if they are just extras, even if they all are capable and have connection with Alfred.
Hey there Anon!
My thoughts on Batman and Bruce have changed over the last few years, he wasn’t the character that introduced me to DC comics but what I got to read from him at the time seemed good. As time went by, I started to feel like the whole concept of Batman was overrated and he kinda tired me in entertainment such as movies and all that. He never truly was a character that I actually liked so by the time that I read Under the Red Hood I knew that I liked Dick and Jason better than Bruce.
Batman was interesting but I was completely indifferent about Bruce. That whole thing changed around the time that the New 52 was sort of ending, there I started to heavily dislike Bruce and then that turned into pure hate. Now, I am just tired of the guy and every time that he appears in Dick or Jason content my day is ruined.
I hate that DC has been writing Bruce as an abusive and manipulative person and father to his “kids”, he has done a lot of wrong to them in comic history but all went to shit (in current comics) when Bruce tried to manipulate Jason into reliving the day that he died and his resurrection in Batman and Robin vol2. #20 and when he beat Dick and manipulated him into becoming a spy after telling him that he had told everyone that he was dead in Nightwing vol.3 #30.
Bruce was a horrible human being in the pre-New 52 timeline too sometimes, mostly towards Dick but in a way, it felt like Dick was able time and time again to get away from him a little bit. Now none of his kids are given the opportunity to turn their backs on Bruce, they are kept in his surroundings no matter how abusive he becomes towards them.
My biggest problem with Bruce’s abusiveness is the fact that the writers never treat it like he acts in an abusive way, they never make him apologize or have an internal discussion where he realises that he was in the wrong. “Bruce is a horrible person to his sons but it doesn’t matter because he is right and he is Batman so that’s that”, that’s the message that I feel DC is selling us. Bruce never receives punishment or is called out for his behaviour, Dick was never able to tell Bruce that what he did to him was unforgivable, he never got the chance to explain to anyone that he didn’t play dead, and when he came back from Spyral he took all the shit from his “family” himself.
Sometimes DC does something even worse, they try to hide Bruce’s neglect with things that never happened like they did with the Ric thing in Dick’s case. Dick was passed around from villain to villain when he was most vulnerable and at the end of it all DC had the guts to say that Batman had been watching over Dick all the time. Like, why lie in such a blatant way? Does Bruce enjoy watching his son suffer from a far or was he too much of a coward to tell Dick that he was a shit father, got stuck in a hole and then decided to play “Cat and Bat” with Selina instead of caring for any of his children?
The situation with Damian’s death and resurrection was a whole thing that was meant to prove that Bruce loved Damian and considered him his son. But in their effort to make Bruce look like a good father to Damian they completely destroyed his relationship with his other kids and that was also the start of Bruce referring to Damian as his ONLY son. And like you said after Damian was resurrected Bruce ended up neglecting him afterwards which ultimately led Damian to run away.
His relationship with Cass and Duke is something that I cannot explore because I am not into those characters and they are involved in books that I am not interested in. So I cannot say anything about that.
With Tim it’s complicated because I feel like his relationship with him was never actually father/son it was more like mentor/mentee and that seemed to work better for them, ever since they started the whole family thing Bruce started to act a little bit too rough towards Tim and that ended with Bruce punching Tim during the “City of Bane” arc. Bruce never apologised or was shown realising his mistake, but DC made sure to explain that Bruce was going through a rough time so that’s why he did it. It was pure rubbish and I dislike it a lot.
I answered an ask a while ago about how I thought Dick and Jason could become family the way that DC treats the “Batfamily” within comics and I came up with the idea of the “Dickfamily” because I felt like DC made a big mistake the moment they revolved the Bat family around Bruce and not Dick. Bruce is a character that is known for being lonely and for being surrounded by darkness that he only manages to escape through the light of Robin (Dick Grayson because he was the first), he was always depicted as someone who is hard to work with and considers his teammates only co-workers and not friends. He is a difficult person to connect with, so why on earth did DC come up with a family surrounding that man? (I actually know the answer to that question and it is: money, DC did it to sell more comics under the Batman name but we are going to forget about that here, let me be petty).
Why would DC make it all about a man that doesn’t connect or goes out of his way to say that he “works alone” when Dick Grayson is standing right there? DC hates that they created a character like Dick because he is just better than Bruce at everything, he just is, he is better family to Alfred, Jason, Tim and Damian, he was even written as a better father to Damian than Bruce ever was!
Bruce is just not a people person or a person that forms strong bonds with people. And that makes the whole “Batfamily” concept suffer and come off as something forced that doesn’t actually work.
Tom King was one of the writers that tried to kill the concept of the “Batfamily” with Bruce and Selina becoming a couple and by continuously saying that Selina was who was the most important person in Bruce’s life and the one that made him a better person. All Tom King did with that is make fans and non-fans of the “Batfamily” feel rage. Like, I might not like the “Batfamily” but there is no way that Selina comes first to Alfred, Dick or Damian, there is just no way and if that were actually true then that’s boring.
All the writers that have pushed the “Batfamily” concept (try) do it in a way that makes it look grand and of actual essence but without putting any work on it, if you ask me the “Batfamily” (if there has to be one) should only include Bruce, Alfred (he do be dead though), Dick, Tim, Cass and Damian (I suppose Duke too, I don’t know much about him). The “Batfamily” has to be small because that way you can actually build relationships and make them matter. Having Kate, Steph, Jason and so many others involved in a concept that was made to fit around Bruce looks stupid! Bruce has had almost zero connection to Kate and Steph in the last ten years and Bruce’s “relationship” with Jason is a complete joke!
Bruce is just not the character that is meant to be surrounded by too much people, and he is not a good person towards his family so the whole ass concept should be thrown to the trash and finally let it die. But money is important and if there is something that DC will never stop doing, is milking Batman for content that can be (sometimes) pretty basic.
All in all, I think Bruce sucks and that his “kids” shouldn’t be dragged back to him ever again or at least for a long while. All of them would actually benefit from not being involved with anything relating to Batman. Dick could benefit from Bruce and other Bat-related characters staying away from him and letting him live his life in Bludhaven. And Jason? My sweet Chonky? He would be in such a better place if Bruce disappeared from his life, imagine the actually good books we would have if Jason was free to act the way he was meant to do as the Red Hood…
(We saw a little bit of that in the back up story of Detective Comics by Rosenberg, Batman is still involved but he and Jason are definitely not on the same side of the story! So excited for Task Force Z!)
I don’t know If al that I just said answers your question but I hope you have a fantastic week Anon!
41 notes
·
View notes
Text
DickTim Week 2021: Day 5 Winged!Talon Tim au
So. another dual prompt and I really regret nothing about this one tbh. I took tomorrow’s Talon and today’s Wings and made a Winged!Talon!Tim fic. Of course, I talked to the wonderful babes on Capes & Coffee about a what if combination and this just, whew. Careful, it might break your heart a little, but damn if it isn’t an interesting idea.
Not beta read, so don't be a hater :D
Previous Talon!Tim universe posts: The initial idea, Babe and I talking it out, Talon Training Ask, Ra’s vs the Court, Talon and Ra’s, Talon and Ra’s take 2, Talon and Shiva short.
**
Watching B take on the new and improved Talon is really the entertainment of the year.
Once upon a time it had taken all of them plus more to take down as much of the Court of Owls as humanly possible. Of course, like rats, the Bats knew there would be no way to get the entire Court or all the Talons, not when the upper echelons of Gotham had spent the better part of 200 years creating, storing, training, and obtaining more.
Politicians were investigated, corrupt cops removed, and criminals burrowed underground once word of what the capes did to save the day got passed around.
For the first time in years, crime in Gotham was at an all time low.
But, as the coin flip dictates, nothing good lasts forever. Trouble is always brewing below the surface to eventually rise to the top and try to take over.
Case in point:
The Bats of Gotham have come up against a new threat wearing the signature Talon armor, and the call goes out to all available capes for help taking on the undead mercenary before another crime family ends up in the Obituaries rather than Blackgate.
The fact the Court is still up and running after the Batfamily took them down in a fiery blaze that ended with all their Talons gone, Sensei exposed, and most the ruling families imprisoned or poisoned by Lincoln March, is like a kick to the abdomen after they closed that particular book. Worse, with a new Talon soldier is sighted running around Gotham, another circus kid has been kidnapped and turned into the right hand of the Court of Owls. Dick, with his absolute survivors guilt, is the one to make going after the Talon and whoever is still behind the scenes a top priority.
Which is how they find themselves in the middle of Knight’s Stadium facing down a Talon that is too short to be March. Red Hood, Nightwing, Robin, Batgirl, and Black Bat pretty much got their asses handed to them in the first twelve minutes. Pretty hard to understand until you take into account the new and improved Talon facing them now is terrifying in a completely different way than most undead assassins are.
He knows them.
He knows them in ways that lets him fight fast and furious with vicious accuracy, striking at weaknesses few of the vigilantes of Gotham realized they even had.
He isn't as big as Lincoln or even Cobb, not nearly as old. He hasn't been kept in cryostasis waiting for the next generation to need his skills. He doesn't have creaks in his joints from being put on deep freeze too many times.
This one is silent and efficient, obviously trained in multiple types of martial arts, is highly proficient with or without the standard Talon knives, is a master tactician, counters the majority of their moves with alarming consistency–
and the fucking Talon has wings.
Honest-to-God wings.
Everyone had assumed the metal monstrosities on his back were weapons of some kind, but the glint of steel in the streetlight flash a warning before the lumps moved in an arch, extending far out past his shoulder blades, slicing into Red Hood’s body suit with a razor-sharp edge, shredding the armor like paper.
It’s not enough he’s got weapons obviously made specifically for his skill set, it’s not enough he’s an assassin and doesn’t hold to the same standards of non-lethal combat, it’s not enough that he can use his wings to fly or to fight like he’s using another limb to kick the shit out of them, and it’s not enough that he effortlessly counters so many of their attacks that he has to have some kind of inside information on all of them and their fighting styles.
The knives are definitely a thing when the Talon can throw them hard enough to penetrate parts of their suits in between armored plating, which further drives the theory that this is a person they’ve dealt with before. Intimately. Few people in the world know how their suits are made. Even more, few people know particulars enough when their suits are constantly reconstructed.
The only thing on their side that tipped the scales in their favor–
–the Batman.
The wings threw him off his game, obviously, but not enough to stop B from holding his own with swift and merciless force.
It's like watching a dance of fast and furious fists, blades in Talon's hands glinting deadly in the night, finding B's suit over and over and over until he's made it to blood and bone. He takes every hit the Batman can dish out, head snapping back, left, and right with the volley of jaw-breaking blows and bone-shattering kicks.
None of it gives the Talon pause. When a move makes him drop a blade, another is already in hand, cutting into their body suits, wings flipping out to defend or distract, sweeping moves and well coordinated attacks.
The unnatural appendages are like another arm, another leg, an extension working on the same central nervous system, regardless as to how the Court managed to make it happen.
A jump kick off a trash can is a lucky shot as a wing catches B in the ribs hard enough to knock him into the wall of Mike's Famous Hotdogs. The only thing saving the Dark Knight from a concussion or permanent brain damage is the plating in his cowl.
It gives the Talon enough time to make a final bid for a battered Nightwing, Red Hood, and Robin struggling to their feet again, eyes for their fallen mentor.
Before he can lunge forward to start the attack yet again, the Talon just stops, pauses like he’s stuck or something, and in the span of a breath, both wings extend fully, flap powerfully once to propel him up into the Gotham night.
O tries her best to track his flight through the city, but no one’s arms are working well enough to toss a tracker on him.
She loses him over Cape Carmine, slams her palms against her system in frustration, makes sure she gets as much footage from the confrontation as possible.
After some sleep and a whole lot of bandages and ice packs, the Bat family meets in the Cave to watch the footage, breakdown the Talon’s fighting style, his weaponry, and make theories on his identity.
O helps out with readings she has of electronic pulses she managed to capture coming from the armor over his wings. She thinks she might be able to use it to track him if they can get close enough for her equipment to ping the signal again.
B makes a trip to Arkham since Freeze apparently hasn’t stopped producing the formula used to put Talons in cryostasis.
It’s not until Gotham’s power grid has a massive surge that O and the Bats can pinpoint a possible location, all of them invested in one hell of a fight to get the last rats still scurrying in the underground.
The plan of attack comes together smoothly once they’ve scoped out the location, seen the shady activity, and together, they make one hell of a plan.
**
And because, you know, Gotham, it is completely normal for the Court of Owl's headquarters to have a skylight.
Natch.
For this one, they've got Batgirl and Black Bat, Red Hood and Robin, Nightwing and B, a real family affair.
O's quiet voice over comms leading them through the maze of traps and empty rooms, abandoned libraries and spooky ball rooms. The laboratory isn't the most horrific they've all ever seen (because the Joker's summer place is literally the stuff of nightmares), but a few of them do gag on the smell alone.
The plan, however, goes horribly awry when the clear sounds of tormented screaming echoes from right under their reinforced bootheels.
Black Bat's fists clench hard, her breathing wheezes out when the tone, the utter agony goes right through her.
A shudder slides up Robin's spine as all of them turn toward the noise.
Without a flicker or a word, the Batman moves, strafing in the shadows toward the sound. He can't assume it's an innocent civilian with something the Court wants, but he's betting on the fact that scream will lead them to whoever is running the show.
The medieval room has bars and reinforced locks, implements hanging on the wall. The cement brick is stained rust colored with old blood, the vestiges of training, and the awful realization they've found another hidden niche in the city that always existed right under their noses is punctuated with the abrupt drop in temperature, with the sudden charge in the air, with the zzzzcrack snapping beyond the door, replaced with a muted buzzing Robin can feel in his back teeth.
B is already on his way to the roof, Batgirl down through the floor vent while Nightwing picks the locks with fast precision, knocking the tumblers around.
Robin and Red Hood stay close to the reinforced door, balancing on the balls of their feet, katana and .45s at the ready.
Black Bat takes the high road, ceiling tiles giving way under her Bat-a-rang. She gives a sharp nod before she's up and gone.
"All right. Ready?" Nightwing stands, cracks his neck, flips his escrimas in both hands, works his shoulders to prepare for the strain of each blow he plans to give.
"Ya betcha ass," Hood murmurs low, a cut figure with both guns at his sides, gloved fingers on the trigger guard.
"Don't disappoint," Robin snarls, "either of you."
"Nice pep talk, squirt," Nightwing snickers.
"Tt, back up your mouth with action."
"Better shuddap, Demon. Golden Boy ain't fuckin' 'round. Neither is the Bat. We get one more chance a' this asshole. We ain't gonna blow it again, ya feel me?"
"Finally, something we agree on, Hood."
"Other than N's shitty mullet?"
Nightwing swiftly glares at them both over his shoulder, unconsciously putting himself front and center of the trio, ready to be the first in once they get the signal.
– which is the sound of the glass raining down from the heavens.
Three booted feet kick the door hard enough to take it off the hinges, lying against the faded stains like a fallen body.
First step in the room is the complete opposite to what they'd all been expecting.
The two Owl masks aren't the usual, but a perversion of the originals, crudely drawn yawning mouths complete with fangs dripping blood.
But.
The boy on his knees, arms in a binder holding the appendages hostage at a painful angle, is dripping the real thing. Rivulets down his chest and where his back is partially visible. Some from the base of the wings going into the back of his shoulder blades where the skin is torn and raw.
The bar gag shoved in his mouth doesn't take away from the splatters on his chin, the bruising on his face, the swollen eye. But it's his wings that makes the Bats falter from the initial rushing attack.
His wings are without the armor, are bound straight up above his restrained body with hooks grotesquely puncturing through the downy softness, desecrating the beauty with blood and gore. The angle makes the pull to his back where the wings are part of him just another agony on top of atrocity.
"Fuck," from the first Owl mask, and a swift move frees the Talon's bound arms, the appendages flopping uselessly to the floor, only his trapped, tortured wings keeping him up on his knees.
The second Owl shoves the first back, "let him take care of them. Let's get out of here!"
The first Owl snarls out something low and foreign, the phrases rolling off his tongue.
The words lock into place, and the Talon's head snaps up, snarling around the gag in his mouth.
When his face is finally, finally visible, the protectors of Gotham are frozen in their tracks.
Familiar violet-blue eyes, too-long blue-black hair, cut jawline and pointed nose. Tiny scar on his right cheek from the time he caught Ra's al Ghul's ring across the face.
"Jesus Fucking Christ," is barely heard through the Red Hood's synths and in no way fully expresses his utter horror at what these dirty motherfuckers have done.
Robin wretches, bile burning the back of his throat once those eyes swing up to the masked parody of the Owls and his bare upper body is visible through the blood and sweat on his chest, when the scars peeking through on his collar bones form a half-visible Y-incision, when the coloring of the bared wings now makes sense (robin's wings, Damian Wayne thinks with his heart beating pitter patter fast, and his stomach in knots, they put robin's wings on him...).
And the hurt, agonized noise coming out of Nightwing's chest is the only noise he can make when those dimmed, dazed eyes swing from the Owls back to the vigilantes frozen in their spots, when there's no spark of joy or fondness or stubbornness he's so used to seeing staring him down.
The errant thought, the first instinct, is the only humane way to deal with this new Talon is to put him down for good wars with the man behind the mask that only wants to reach out, wants to pull the Talon into his body and curve over, to scream at the injustice of it all, to rail at himself for not even suspecting.
Another switch flipped and the hooks release his wings, blood splattering on top the old stains.
"Get them! Don't fuck it up this time or you won't get another chance," the second Owl shoves the Talon's injured shoulder in the direction of the horrified vigilantes.
They don't even bother to take the gag out of his mouth before setting him on his target.
A flap of wings, and the Talon is on his feet again, swaying only slightly. He's in the boots and pants from earlier, the rest of his uniform tossed carelessly behind him by his tormentors. A sweep of his feet and the knives glint in bare palms, a whisper of a sound.
The curved, clawed blade glints in the overhead light when the Talon raises it and cuts the strap of the bar gag in his bloody mouth, turns his head to spit it out without looking away from the vigilantes.
The Batman, grim and stoic in the face of this surprising turn of events, gives the barest nod. From her hiding spot behind the complex machinery, Black Bat takes off after the running Owl members, leaving the rest of the family to deal with their former third Robin.
The wings flinchingly flare out and their former bird hunches over, ready for the attack.
“Wait! Wait, wait, wait,” the Red Hood removes the helmet, leaves the domino underneath. He keeps one hand out in peace, slowly dipping down to put his helmet on the ground. “Is us, Tim. Timmy. Baby Bird. Is us. Yer family. Gotta lookit us, yeah?”
For the first time, the Talon speaks, “who’s Tim?”
And then he lunges.
**
The fight happens very differently this time.
The former power behind the punches is obviously dulled with the Talon’s identity reveal. He doesn’t hold back, is utterly ruthless with his attacks. He takes out B’s right knee, puts Hood down on the stained floor, knocks Robin into the wall with crushing force, and slams Batgirl’s head off the operating table.
He stands over Nightwing, wicked blade in hand and robin’s wings spread wide. He takes a knee, the sharp edge right above N’s adam’s apple, staring down impassively into the whiteouts.
“Timmy,” N spits blood, grunting when one knee pins his arm down. “Timmy, please. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I love you and I’m sorry they did this to you.”
Those eyes don’t change in the slightest. “You should not have tried to oppose the Owls.”
“We beat them once,” Nightwing gasps, “and you helped us, Baby Bird. You were with us then, don’t you remember.”
“I was nothing before the Court perfected me,” the Talon replies emotionlessly.
“You were perfect before they ever touched you.”
“No,” and the Talon leans down, puts them a breath away. “The only thing you and those others do is put the criminals back in prison, back in Arkham for them to escape again, for them to kill and destroy over and over again. Like this, I can stop them permanently.”
“Oh Timmy,” and behind the whiteouts, Nightwing’s eyes spill over, his vision wavery. “Timmy–”
“Don’t call me that. Stop calling me that.”
“You know me, you know us. You have to remember–”
“Lies. All of it lies!”
Nightwing’s chest stutters, his fist clenching, “it’s not. None of it is. Not even this–”
And he’s fast enough to grab the back of the Talon’s neck, to lean up enough against the blade pressed against his throat, can bring their mouths together, can kiss him like he’s dying and the Talon is the only thing that can save him.
It’s sloppy and awkward because the Talon doesn’t know what’s happening, gasps against the vigilante’s mouth. The tongue sliding over his, the muffled moan in his mouth sparks something in the back of his brain where the Court of Owls could never touch.
When Nightwing pulls back, stares up at wide violet-blue eyes, when the blade falls away to clatter against the block, when the Talon’s mouth trembles and tears fill his eyes, when his wings flutter and falter, fold in on them both, when his voice goes hoarse with, “D-Dick?” Nightwing throws both arms around his waist and holds on.
#dicktimweek2021#talon!tim#winged!tim#dicktim#dick grayson#tim drake#jason todd#cassandra cain#oracle barbara gordon#batgirl stephanie brown#bruce wayne#so many feel#get your feels ready#hurt/comfort?#angst#i wanted more angst but welp didn't get there#this isn't too bad but i could do better#did you need those feels?#nah ya didn't#my fic#my writing
123 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
nonameberry
🫧🦋Eclipse🦋🫧
englishbooks85
Без названия
gayleven
Stranger Things Side Blog Because Why Not
net88comph
Net88
clcitzy
unnieclc