#jason would be dying twice | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luvf4ngz · 20 days

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Til Death Do We Part Brings Us Together

grim reaper! jason todd

Description: Your constant close calls with death first captures the attention of the Grim Reaper, then his heart, and lastly, his devotions.

Contents: Female Reader, Mentions Of Death/Dying, References to Greek Mythology, Possessiveness, You Watch Pretty Woman and Read Pride & Prejudice Together Bc Yeah, Mentions Of Isolation But It’s Okay I Promise, Jason Is Lowkey Lonely And Desperate, Reader Has A Death Wish? Maybe?, Praise Kink, SO MUCH PRAISE, Unprotected Sex, Religious Symbolisms, Sacrilege?, Nipple Play, Jason Calls You Princess, Obviously???, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, (Female Receiving), He’s So In Love, Jason Todd Is Touch Starved, Devotion, Jason Is A Munch, Overstimulation, Vaginal Sex, Yes Greek Gods Wear Boxers, Enthusiastic Consent, “Will it fit?” I’m Sorry Okay, Size Kink, Jason Todd Has A Big Dick, Gentle Dom Jason Todd, Intimate Sex, Slow Sex, Soft Sex, Aftercare, Cuddling

Word Count: 6081

Author’s Note: Jason is loosely based off of Thanatos from Greek Mythology/Hades (the game). It was kind of hard infusing his personality with the literal personification of Death, but I hope I did a good job! Also some details are completely made up or changed for the purpose of the fics, like how dying works in Greek Mythos. Please don’t come for me, I’m just trying to be horny on the internet. Without furthermore, please enjoy :)

Actually one more thing I have a Thanatos/Death playlist and I adore it to bits, please listen if you want.

Thank you @toruslvt for beta-reading!

He’ll do anything for his most devout follower, he’ll worship you twice as much as you ever could him.

"Yet another brush with death." You heard a husky voice beside you, making you turn your head to look at the figure sheepishly.

Whether you’re extremely unlucky or just unfathomably reckless, he’s not sure. All he knows is that your soul has been on the edge of being his over and over again - whether it was narrowly missing a car or falling into a river or even just choking on a bone. You always seem to make it out of those situations just fine, which has thoroughly caught his attention.

"You should really be more careful, you know." He looked at you and sighed.

“I am! Or at least I try to be...” You murmur timidly, scratching the back of your neck. “It’s uh, it’s nice to see you again.” You give him a small smile, turning your body to face him.

As always, he’s in his dark cloak, the hood lifted to conceal some of his hair, casting a shadow over his face. The gold accents adorning his body glint due to the faint sunlight casting through your kitchen window, the same sunlight making his tan skin glow, making him look otherworldly - which he was.

He raised his eyebrow, “Is it now? Most people are terrified to see me.” He muttered, smirking a bit,

“I guess I’m used to you now.” Your grin gets a bit larger, warmer. “You don’t have your scythe.” You point out.

He lets out a slight chuckle at your observation, “Such a keen eye. I figured I wouldn’t need it, and I was right. What was it this time?”

Your face heats with embarrassment at the question. “I slipped.” You confess, pointing to the puddle of water on the ground. “Almost cracked my head open, I guess. But! I turned my body in time, so I’m fine.”

“Yes, that would explain your wet clothes.” His eyes trail down your body, catching slightly where your nipples peek out against the damp fabric, before looking back up to your face.

He clears his throat, “Haven’t you learned your lesson by now? It’s not even lunch time yet and you were on the brink of death. Aren’t you afraid of dying?” He scolds you.

“I mean, not really.”

A pause of silence.

“What? You’re joking, right? How can you be so cavalier about this?”

“I don’t know, it doesn't seem so bad. It’s a natural part of life. Should I be scared?”

“What kind of question is that?!” He raises his voice slightly, eyebrows scrunched as he looks at you. “Of course, you should be. Dying isn’t fun. You’ll be dead, trapped in the underworld for the rest of eternity. You should be trying to preserve your life while you still have it.”

“I am, though. I’m not saying I don’t like being alive, I’m just saying, when it happens, it’ll happen. There’s no use being so pre-cautious and anxious all the time.”

He lets out a huff, “You are… certainly a strange one.”

“In any case, I’d like to think my soul will go to Elysium. I'm a pretty good person, so I think the afterlife won’t be too awful for me.” You continue on, carefree.

"That isn't my point, though. Even if you're guaranteed a place in Elysium, you should still be more vigilant.”

“Why should I be? My end is already predetermined, isn’t it? Don’t the fates know when my time is up?”

“Well… yes, but-”

“Wait, then how come you visit me before I actually die?” You interrupt him, a realization suddenly taking place. “Near death experiences shouldn't summon you right?”

He hesitates a bit, caught. "You’re correct… I visit you on my own accord.”

“Why?” You tilt your head cutely, an innocent and puzzled look in your eyes.

“You’ve just caught my attention, is all.” He looks away. “I like to keep track of you, the Fates are wrong sometimes, and you basically have a death wish so I just… I like to make sure you’re okay.”

You smile slightly at his words, “You don’t want me to die?”

“Of course, I don’t. I like- I like to watch you. You’re interesting to me.” He chooses his words carefully.

“I am?” Your eyes brighten a bit at his words.

He turns back to you and nods, his hood shifting a bit with his movement, revealing a bit more of his hair. The white streak catches your attention.

“I have to confess it’s… cute the amount of trouble you manage to get yourself into. It’s entertaining to see what you get up to, how you treat others, what you desire out of life.” His eyes move to look into yours. “Your mentality is quite unique, as well. You see dying as natural and not something to be feared, but I think you've accepted it to an… abnormal degree." He paused. "...You're the first person in a very long time to not express fear of me.”

“Why would anyone be afraid? You're only doing your job... and you're quite nice."

He laughs, the deep rumble of his voice goes straight to your knees. "I think you're the first person to ever call the God of Death ‘nice’. You wouldn't believe the amount of people that fear me, even before their time is up. It's... exhausting, really. I can always hear their prayers, their cries, their pleads.”

"I mean I can’t blame them, I just can't share the same sentiment, especially with all the conversations that we've had."

He smiles at you, “You really are like a breath of fresh air. It’s nice to know that someone doesn’t hate me.” He pauses again, a soft look in his eyes. “But you should still be careful. You're not made of rubber after all. Don’t let me take you earlier than I should.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad, though.”

“What?” In such a short time, you’ve shocked him again.

“I wouldn’t mind dying knowing that you'll be the one waiting for me.” You say it so casually, continuing to smile at him, as if it wasn’t the sweetest thing anyone’s ever uttered to him. His heart beats a little faster as he stares down at you, stupefied.

“You can’t mean that.” He replies after a while.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He’s speechless, dumb-founded. How could he possibly begin to explain that the idea of anyone liking him enough to allow him to take them from this world so happily was absurd?

“What?” You ask, noticing his sudden silence. “Why’s that so strange? I like talking to you, and when I’m in the afterlife you would keep me company, right?”

He lets out a breath and smiles a bit, the whites of his teeth peeking out behind the pink of his lips. “I’d be lying if I said that didn’t sound appealing.”

“Good.” You smile a little wider, your eyes crinkling as it makes his heart begin to race now.

“I-I should get going, there’s uh- souls I need to get to.” He stutters out.

“Yeah, that sounds important. I should clean up with water. I’ll see you around uh… Mister Grim Reaper, sir.”

He lets out an amused huff. “Jason. Just call me Jason.”

“Will do.” You jokingly salute him, and it makes him let out another chortle.

“Alright, farewell then.” He nods, before blinking out of your kitchen.

You stare at the space he used to occupy for a bit, still smiling softly, before leaving to get a mop - and maybe a change of clothes.

“Are you sure it’s okay for you to be here?” You ask him, raising an eyebrow as you stare at him from the couch.

“Yes.” He replies simply, his eyes and attention focus on the movie playing on your TV.

His visits have been more and more frequent lately, ever since the conversation the both of you shared in your kitchen. Now, Death, who prefers the name Jason, shows up even if you didn’t go through another life-threatening event.

And right in this moment, Jason is standing in front of your couch, entirely enraptured by Pretty Woman, of all things.

“Don’t you have to do your duty? I’m sure there’s a lot of lost, wandering souls right now.” You try again, concerned.

“What? You don’t want me here?”

“I didn’t say that!” You put your hands up in defense. “I just don’t want you to get in trouble or something. Won’t Hades or the Fates or… whoever your superior is get angry?”

“Probably.” He shrugs. “But what are they going to do? Kill me?” He casts you a glance from the corner of his eyes, before going back to the movie. “Besides, souls can’t leave the mortal body without me being there. They’ll just rest for a bit, I can always come get them after.”

“I guess that’s fine then.” You sigh out. “Could you at least sit down?”

Jason lets out a nod, before moving to the couch, taking a seat beside you but still keeping his distance.

He watches the rest of the movie in silence beside you, enjoying your company. His eyes flick over to admire you a few times, taking in your immersed gaze and noticing the way you’re clutching a plushie so close to you (cute). When you sniffle, when a few tears trail down your face, when your parted lips form a pout at the ending, his heart pumps hard in his chest.

This was a much better use of his time.

“You have so many books.” Jason states, his figure crouched so that he could properly read all the titles. His hood is off, fully revealing his soft, dark hair - the white streak a beautiful contrast.

“Who’s the observant one, now?” You chuckle from your place on the bed, eyes not leaving the novel in your hands.

He rolls his eyes, “What are you reading?”

“Pride and Prejudice.” You hum softly, eyes still scanning the page.

“What’s that about?” Jason asks, walking away from the bookshelf and towards you.

“Uh, it’s a little complicated.” You murmur, “But basically it’s two people learning to get over their, well, pride and prejudices to fall in love.”

He lets out a hum, “Read it to me?”

“Oh my Gods, you’re so lucky, I just got to the best part.” Your eyes watch him as he lays down beside you on your bed, the fabric of his black cloak pooling around his body.

“Elizabeth was surprised, but said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began: ‘In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.’ Elizabeth’s astonishment was beyond expression.”

Jason turned to his side in order to get a better view of you. He watches how your eyes practically light up as you read, a smile gracing your face. He can’t help but think how pretty you look like this.

“She stared, coloured, doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement; and the avowal of all that he felt, and had long felt for her, immediately followed. UGH, it’s so romantic!” You yell out, clutching the book to your chest and rolling back and forth slightly, making him let out a chuckle at your antics. “I mean at this point in the book I still hate Darcy but Gods, the way it’s written is just so good!”

He falls silent for a bit, his gaze affectionate as he watches you. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

You stop your giddy reactions, looking at him curiously. “Yeah, what is it?”

“Do you remember when you said you wanted to be with me in the afterlife?”

“Hm? Yeah, why?”

He took a deep breath. "Let's say... let's just pretend for a moment, that when you die... I don't guide you to the afterlife. Instead, I take you somewhere else with me."

You sit up slightly, pushing yourself up on your arms, turning your body to face him. “Where would we go?” You set your book aside on the nightstand.

“To… my home. I have a residence on the outskirts of Tartarus. You would be safe there, I can make sure that nothing would bother you.” He sits up fully, grabbing and holding your hands gently. “Please, I want you to stay with me. I get so lonely, and I just- I like being around you.” His tone is soft, pleading and sincere as he confesses his desires to you.

You smile back at him, eyes crinkling softly in that way that he’s come to adore. “I’d like that.”

“Really?” He gasps out, face mirroring yours as a bright smile overtakes his features.

“Mhm,” You hum, “It’ll take some time, though.”

He shakes his head, hands gripping yours a bit tighter, “I would wait the entire rest of eternity for you, if I had to.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to not make you wait that long.” You giggle out.

“I’d hope not. I want to have you with me, I want to keep you around until the end of time itself.”

“I think that’s the most romantic thing anyones ever said to me, Jay.” Your tone is light, teasing.

“There’s a catch though,” He pauses, hesitant to see your reactions. “You won’t be able to leave the house or see anyone else. I can’t risk you getting found. B-but I get you anything you need, I can make you happy.”

“That sounds just fine to me.”

His eyes glisten in happiness, a bright shine in them. “Then... it's settled. I will take you to my home, and you will stay with me… forever.” His glances down to your lips for a second, before quickly looking back into your eyes.

You notice the movement, heart beating a bit faster.

“Could I kiss you?” He whispers, his voice low and warm.

“Yeah,” You mumble back.

He leans in closer, hands releasing yours as one places itself on the small of your back, pulling you closer to his body as the other gently grips your chin. He leans down, tilting your head up until he feels the soft press of his lips to yours. Warmth floods his body as he feels electricity in the air, and he feels his heart pound behind his ribcage when your own arms wrap around his neck.

Your touch, your taste, was addicting. You were tender and sweet, and Jason never wanted this moment to end. He groans when he feels your hand begin to play with his hair, and he presses himself closer to you, both hands moving to grip your waist.

His grip tightened on you as your kiss intensified, his body started to tremble as it filled with a desire so deep that it was all-consuming.

Eventually you break apart from him, needing air. He dismays at having to pull away, but allows you to do so.

"If that's what's waiting for me at the end of my life, maybe I do want to die sooner…” You joke, breathless.

He groans again, “Don’t… don’t say that. Don’t tempt me, I can’t take it.” He presses his forehead to yours, both of your breaths mingling together.

You giggle, pulling him in by the back of his neck to kiss him again. He relents easily, his heart skipping when you hum softly against his lips, the desire in his body igniting higher and higher.

Eventually, he’s the one to pull away, his breath tickling you as he trails his nose against your neck. He can feel the soft tremor in your breath as your body shivers against his. “Can we go further?” He murmurs into the skin.

“Yeah, I want more.” You nod.

“Good, I do too. I want all of you.” He begins to press his lips to your neck, lightly leaving kisses and bites that you have squirming and gasping.

“You have me.”

“You don’t understand.” He shakes his head. “You... you don't know how much I've been longing for you. Your presence alone gives me joy. Having you touch me… it makes my heart pound and my body melt. The way you talk, the sounds you make... it’s perfect. I want to touch you. I want to hold you. I want to know everything about you. I want all of you.”

“You can have that too…” You sighed out.

“You drive me crazy.” He groans, leaning close again to kiss you deeply, caressing the sides of your body. He wasn't holding back anymore. He couldn't. He wanted you so much that it ached in his bones. His hands started sliding slowly but surely, caressing your back and waist. He couldn't get enough of you, and your body’s twitching and the sound of your heavy breaths was such a thrilling sensation that he was consumed by it entirely.

“Jason…” You pant out his name as you experimentally grind your body against his, whining when you feel his hard cock rub against your clothed cunt, your hands holding him tighter.

The sound drove him crazy with arousal, his body wracked with longing. You felt so good and he couldn't help but lean into you more, allowing you to press against him over and over and over. The feeling of heat was flooding his entire being, his cock throbbing beneath his cloak.

He worships the feeling of you grinding against him for a few more moments, his breath coming out in husky pants before he rolls you onto your back, hovering above you.

"Just be a good girl and let me do all the work, now." His voice is husky, needy, as he leaned down and kissed your neck again, his breath hot and his body trembling with anticipation.

You whine again, rubbing your thighs together to relieve the sudden ache between them. Your eagerness spurs him on, he presses a peck to your cheek before sitting back on his knees to gaze down at you.

“Gods, you’re gorgeous.” He mutters, his hand slips up your shirt a little, and he shivers at the instant warmth of your skin. “Can I take this off?”

You nod rapidly, quickly pulling off your top and tossing it aside, revealing yourself to him.

Jason responds by leaning down to litter kisses over your body, a flush on his cheeks. His lips are soft and reverent almost as they softly touch your heated skin. He takes your nipple into his mouth sucking slightly, as a hand comes up to tweak and roll the other one.

“Jay…” You call out his name, your back arching slightly, and he never wants to stop hearing your voice.

“I got you, princess.”

He lowers his mouth, trailing down your body until he reaches the hem of your bottoms. “Can I take this off, too?”

“Do anything you want, Jay.” You breathe out, head dizzy with your need.

“You sure?” He asks, fingers hooking into both your pajama pants and underwear, dragging them down your body, uncovering inch after inch of your naked body.

You look like a dream under him, eyes blown with lust, lips parted, body bare for him as you nod. He sets your clothes aside, going back to relishing you.

You look away softly from embarrassment, “You take off your clothes, too…”

Your shyness got to him and he could help but laugh softly. You were so cute. He took a step back and off the bed, pulling off his cloak. He could feel your eyes watching his every movement, could feel your eyes rake his form as you settled on the bed.

His gold adornments drop to the floor with a ‘clunk’, quickly followed by his black trousers.

“You’re so beautiful.” You softly praise. You can’t help but to stare at him, eyes lingering on every sculpted muscle or coloured scar of his frame.

He couldn't help but feel like you were the beautiful one. The way your eyes traveled over his body made his heart beat fast. He felt like he was on top of the world, knowing you admired him.

He climbs back onto the bed, taking his place between your legs as he lays on his stomach. His hands come to grip around your thighs, pulling you closer to him.

“Oh.” You gasp slightly at the intimate position, gulping as your blood pumps faster through your veins.

He slides a hand down towards your cunt, already slick for him. A thumb parts your swollen lips as he gently glides it up and down, before pressing it against your sensitive bud.

“Ah-” You moan oh so sweetly for him, hips twitching as he starts rubbing your pretty clit. Your body was so responsive to him, and it makes a grin break onto his face.

He brings his thumb away, making you frown before replacing it with his mouth, lips wrapped around the nub.

“W-wait!” You cry out, hands flying into his hair as you do your best to not buck into his face. He smirked around you, starting to suck despite your call. Your reaction only added fuel to the fire burning inside him, your writhing body and shaky gasps were too much for him to handle.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, just let yourself feel good.” He mumbles into your cunt before going back to sucking and lapping at you. He holds you close to his face, his grip firm to keep you as still as he could.

He groans as you tug at his roots, the sound vibrating around your needy clit. Your desperate moans and whispers drove him crazy. He liked how fast you were breathing, how much you were moving. You were a squirming, twitching mess underneath him as the sensation became too overwhelming.

“Jason, oh my Gods.” You gasp.

“I’m your only God, now, right? Just me…” His hand moves to your fluttering hole, slowly pressing two fingers inside you. They slip in easily with how wet you are, dripping your desire down his wrists. He feels you clamp down on them, slick walls sucking him in further.

“Jason, Jay!” His name slips from your lips like a chant, a prayer wrapped in shallow breaths.

“Keep saying my name just like that, pretty girl.” He loves the way you make it sound, loves the way you say it. Not Grip Reaper. Not Death. Just Jason. Your Jason.

“Oh, Jay…” You breathe out his name like you’re struggling to even think.

“You’re such a sensitive thing, aren’t you?” He coos, starting to move his fingers in and out of you. He smirks when you squeal as he curls his fingers up, pressing against that soft, vulnerable spot inside you. His arm moves to keep you down, pinning your hips to the bed as he goes back to tasting you.

“N-not there!”

“Why not? Doesn’t it feel good?”

“It’s too much!” You’re breathless, barely able to gasp out replies as he keeps abusing that spot inside you.

“Do you want me to stop?” Jason slows his pace, fingers dragging painfully slow against your aching, slick walls, making you let out a needy mewl, clenching on him.

“No! P-please don’t.” You pout, softly tugging at his head to turn his attention fully on you.

“Say my name. Tell me what you want.”

You hesitate a bit, pondering your words. “Make me feel good, Jason. Make me cum.” Your tone is so soft and pleading, it’s the best worship he’s ever heard.

The only prayers he’s ever heard were cries for his absence, beseeching his very being and purpose, but with you - he’s found a new one. You want him, you want him closer, you want him to make you feel bliss. He can do that. He’ll do anything for his most devout follower, he’ll worship you twice as much as you ever could him.

He dives back down with a fervor, thick fingers working you quickly, the soft squelches increasing in volume and frequency. His tongue traces your clit, sucking and rolling and indulging in the way you writhe and whimper below him.

He keeps going as you squirm uncontrollably, as your body tenses further and further, as your eyes glaze over and your heart pounds. Your nerves are frayed and begging for relief as the soft warmth of his tongue doesn’t let up. Your grip on his hair tightens, making him grunt low and husky into you.

“Jason, m’gonna… can I please-?” You can barely make out full sentences, head fuzzy and blood searing as the dam inside you threatens to break.

“You don’t have to ask, just do it.’ He murmurs; his cock throbs in his garments, waiting for you to release on his tongue.

The feeling overtakes you, making you choke out a shaky cry as you climax. Your thighs squeezes his head, fingers buried deep into his dark locks as you tremble. You’re lightheaded and breathless and euphoria has settled in every inch of your veins.

Jason removes his fingers, gripping your thigh as his mouth slots against your leaking cunt as he engulfs his tongue into your taste. He greedily laps up your slick, moaning as it blooms over his tongue - more sweet and addictive than even ambrosia.

Your cries are so adorable as he continues to seek out every last drop of cum from you, your body pliant and weak below him as you keen and mew.

“J-Jay…” You stutter out his name as your body twitches, sensitivity kicking in.

“Yes, love?” He barely pauses to utter out those words, mind set on devouring you whole.

“C-can’t!” He frowns, giving you one last lick before pulling himself away from you.

His eyes are filled with a feral like need, mouth smeared and shiny with the aftermath of your arousal. “Did that feel good?” He husks out, “You looked so divine, cumming.’

You’re panting hard under him, mind dizzy as you process his words, nodding in reply.

“I want to make you feel that way for the rest of eternity, you’ll let me right? You’ll stay with me?” Now that he’s had you, he doesn’t think he can survive on his own anymore.

“Y-yeah, Jay.” You nod again, voice small.

He raises himself up, licking you off his hand before he crawls over your body again. His legs slot between yours, tangling the both of you together. He leans down, sighing out in satisfaction as your damp, warm skin presses into his.

His lips brush over yours, silently asking for permission to kiss you again. You accept him willingly, hands drifting to hang loose around his neck as you push your lips to his.

He groans, hand gripping your waist and the other running through your hair as he explores your mouth. You can taste yourself on him, spit mixing together as he groans into your lips.

He pulls back, both your breaths lingering in the small space between your faces. He trails his nose down to the sensitive skin of your neck, teeth dragging lightly across the flesh.

“I want all of you, so bad.” He groans. “I’ll do anything for you. Can you tell me I’m yours?”

He so desperately wants to belong to you - to know that one day you’ll accompany him in the deepest pits of Tartarus - that you’ll never let him be alone again.

“You want to be mine?” Your tone is puzzled, words ending in a lilt.

“Please.”

You smile, hands coming to hold his face, thumbs gently caressing his cheeks. “Who knew the God of Death would be so needy?” You tease.

“You try being alone and hated since the dawn of existence.” He sighs, melting into your touch. His eyes close, leaning into your palms.

You giggle a bit. “We can be each other's.” Your lips break out into a grin as you bring his face down to yours, pressing pecks all over.

He relishes your kisses, letting out a deep, happy sigh. His cock is still painfully hard, straining against his boxers, but he tries to ignore it. He opens his eyes and brushes your stray hair behind your ears, slightly damp with your sweat.

“Jay,” You murmur his name, pulling back to look at him, “I want more.”

“More? You want me to eat you out again?” His mouth salivates at the thought of having your taste on his tongue again. He’ll do anything you ask.

You shake your head, thumbs rubbing along his cheekbones, “I want you to fuck me, Jay.”

“You do? Are you sure?” He whispers.

His breath hitches as you nod, blinking up at him with those pretty eyes of yours.

“I wanna feel you, Jay. J-just go slow, I’m still sensitive.”

“You’re sensitive?” He huffs out an amused breath, smiling softly. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you. I’ll make sure of it.”

You try to press your thighs together, getting excited by his promises and husky tone. He feels your legs shift around his, smirking as he takes in your desperate body language.

He shifts back again, tugging his boxers down. Your eyes trail to his now exposed cock, standing proud and flushed and daunting.

He’s…. big.

Your jaw drops a little as you take him in, your mind reeling with thoughts of “Will it fit?”.

“Hm? Don’t worry. I said I was going to take care of you.” Jason murmurs, voice adoring. He positions himself back between your legs, hands lifting your legs to encourage them to wrap around his waist. You willingly follow his guidance.

His hands come to hold your hips steady, hips canting forwards to rub the head of his cock through your folds. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” You reply softly, hands drifting to lay on top of his, gently grabbing his wrists.

He pushes inside of you, pace steady and measured as he tries his best to let you adapt to him.

“Ohmyfuck…” You slur, words mushing together as you feel him stretch you out. You grip him a bit tighter.

“Just relax, pretty girl.” He mutters, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin to calm you down. He continues pushing himself inside you, making you feel every ridge and detail and inch. It’s slow and deliberate; he’s savoring watching the way your cunt sucks him in, the way your head tilts back, how shallow and quick your breaths have gotten. “Can you feel it? Am I too big for you?” He teases, eyes shining with both mischief and affection. He pushes forwards again.

Your pussy flutters around the girth of him, slick pouring out with every second, making the process that much smoother.

You try to take deep breaths, groaning softly as you feel the way he bullies into you, nestling deep inside.

“S’it in yet?” You hiccup.

He chuckles softly, you were just so endearing. He was taking his time, enjoying the feeling of you. “It’s not even halfway yet, baby.” He coos.

“S-still?” Your eyes widen a bit, as he laughs again.

“Just lay down and take it, princess. I’ll do everything, don’t think about a thing.” He leans down and silences your whimpers with a kiss. His lips lock onto yours as he swallows your moans, moving his hips until he feels you flushed against him.

He pulls back, body once more shadowing over yours. His eyes drift down to where the two of you connect. “Look at that, she took me all in. I told you that you didn’t need to fret, love.”

“A-ah, it’s so deep…” You mumble.

“Isn’t it?” He grins.

He starts to move back and forth, instantly groaning at the intoxicating sensation of you wrapped warm and snug around his pulsing cock.

He keeps his pace slow, staying true to his promise. He doesn’t mind though, he’s just relishing in every little detail of you, burning the memory of how you look, feel, and sound into his mind - a treasure for eons to come.

You’re moaning uncontrollably, hands moving to grip at his biceps, nails digging slightly into the skin. He grunts, liking the shark twang of pain that shoots through his body.

He can feel you clamping around him desperately, like your body needed more. You’re so wet and sloppy, he can feel your slick smearing on his thighs with every thrust.

“Feels s’good, baby.” He groans, and immediately he feels you clench on him again. “Did you like that?” He grins.

“Uh-huh,” You nod dumbly, eyes unfocused as whines spill from your throat.

“My pretty girl likes it when I praise her, huh?” The next words flow from him easily, he’s venerated you so much in his mind already that the flattery comes easy. He wants you to know exactly what you make him feel. “You’re so fucking perfect for me, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Everytime he bottoms out you can feel him in your throat.

“J-Jay…”

Your bodies blend together, waves of pleasure overtaking you both with each long stroke. You can feel every inch and vein and crevice of him pushing against your sensitive walls.

He continues speaking. “You make me fall apart so easily, my love. I want to give you my everything. I’ll be at your disposal from now on, you can do whatever you want with my body, as long as you stay by my side.” His tone is deep, dripping with lust. “Your pretty pussy takes me so well, it’s like you were made for my cock, yeah?”

A shiver of arousal runs through your body at his speech, lower body getting hotter. You feel like you’re surrounded by lava, melting and wound tight all at once.

“Your body is so beautiful, I don't want anyone else to touch you; I want you only for myself.” His hands lift your hips up a little, his cock pressing inside even deeper than before, making you let out a yelp.

He’s hitting every good spot inside you, knocking the breath from your lungs even with his sensual pace. You feel constant spurts of warmth pouring out of you, and you notice just how soaked the mattress is beneath your shivering body.

“Are you enjoying yourself, love?”

“S-so much, Jay,” You whine out, clutching him harder.

“Good, I want to be the only one that can make you feel like this.”

Each rock of his hips gets you higher and higher, dangling on the edge of release. The glide of him is so smooth and sweet as he drags against you.

“M’gonna cum, Jay.” You sigh out, voice high and whiny.

“Good girl, go on and soak my cock. Show me just how much you’re enjoying this.”

A few more more moments and you’re letting go, gripping his biceps hard as elation sinks deep into your bones. A sob of his name escapes your parted lips, body tingly and twitchy as endorphins rush through your veins. He groans as he feels your slick walls convulse around him. His grip on your waist tightens momentarily as he pulls out, his cum instantly spilling onto your stomach. Relief floods his system as he pants hard, chest heaving as he catches his breath.

The both of you bask in the afterglow of your climaxes, the soft sound of breathing drifting on the heated air. Jason thinks you look divine with your hair spread on the bed, his seed marking your skin as sweat glistens your body. You think the view of him above you, satisfaction prominent on his face, is just as sacred.

When Jason’s body settles he gently slides out of you, smiling apologetically at your small wince. He goes to your bathroom, having memorized the layout of your house from all the times he’s visited you. He returns with a damp towel, mournfully wiping his traces off of you. He throws the rag into your laundry basket, crawling beside you in bed and pulling you into his chest.

“How ya doing, princess?” He whispers into your hair.

You give him a small, happy hum in return, scooting yourself even closer into him.

"You're so soft," He mumbles, nuzzling into you. "This is where I want us to stay, for eternity. Nothing else, forever."

“That sounds perfect, Jay.” You reply, yawning slightly.

Jason’s smile grows even wider, his arms tightening around you. He looks down at you with an adoring gaze, your warm and tender body slotting perfectly against his. "There is nothing, and no one in this world that I want more than you, my dearest."

Thank you so much for reading! A comment or reblog is much appreciated. Have a great day <3

- sumi ☆ミ

ミ☆ masterlist

requested tags: @a-deadbeat-fucking-valentine @in-som-niyah

#sumi — dc.#sumi — my love.#sumi — works.#jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #dc smut #dc x reader #red hood x reader #red hood smut

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charliedawn · 2 months

Note

Hey this is some stupid fear I have but how would some slasher ( whoever you want. ) React to a nurse who is young like in 20s and isn't scared at dying at a young age or isn't scared of dying like any time, but it's scared to grow up? It's really a stupid fear I have personal.

P.S you don't need to do it tho.

( sorry for the bad Grammer, English is my second language. )

Pennywise:

"Yeah. Growing up is scary, kid. I won’t lie to you. But, guess what ? It is part of the process." Pennywise hesitated before patting your head. "Cheer up. Being mortal isn’t all that bad. Living forever is a bore honestly."

Pennywise’s throat tightened as he realised that you would grow up. He knew it was a process and that in the blink of an eye…You would be gone. He waited a few seconds before surprising you by pulling you into a hug. Your eyes widened as you realised that he was shaking.

"Pennywise…" You uttered in a whisper before sighing and hugging him back.

He didn’t say anything. Truth was ? He was scared too. But, he didn’t want to tell you with words. So, he hugged you and hoped you’d understand that he was scared too…but that he was happy that whatever little life you had left, he’d be right next to you until the end.

Penny:

Penny lost so many people in his life that he asked Pennywise to erase his memories of the people he used to love. When you shared your fears with him however, he tilted his head and seemed to ponder on it for a moment before shrugging.

"I could make you live forever. Would you be happier if I did ? Make you immortal ?"

You started thinking about it.

Living forever ? You smiled sadly and shook your head negatively.

"Thank you, Penny. But…I don’t think I would like to live forever. Life is meant to be precious…It is not meant to go on forever."

Penny tilted his head and looked puzzled, but he didn’t say anything. It was odd. He had never seen his life as precious when he was alive. But yours ? His jaw twitched slightly. Yours. He valued.

Vincent Sinclair:

Vincent is an artist. He sees beauty in everything.

When he heard that you were scared of growing up, he just started taking as many pictures as he could of you and showed them to you. He then told you in sign language that you’d live forever—in his camera.

And that if you were scared ? Well, you just had to look at the photos and remember that that was how he would remember you forever. He then started stroking your hair and pressed his forehead against yours to calm you down.

Vincent knew he would eventually have to say goodbye.

But, to him ?

You would always remain a masterpiece.

Five Hargreeves:

"Growing up is scary. But, being stuck as a child is even worse. Children never get heard. I would know. I was a child. Twice."

He said and looked down. So many years spent in solitude. So many years wasted. He lived for decades and yet, Five never thought that he was truly alive. He was feeling better with his siblings, but he never actually had any moment in his life that he could say that he felt like he was enough or enough. Sometimes, he even wondered if the world would have been better without him.

It was only when he was admitted in St Louis that he realised he wanted to be something more and make his life a good one. It wasn’t until he met…you.

He looked at you and smiled.

"You gave me a life. And even when you get older and start forgetting about how you changed everything for me, I’ll be there to remind you. Every single day."

Jason Voorhees:

Jason never had a real childhood. He was bullied as a kid and his overprotective mother never allowed him to get out of her sight. When she died, he had no one to look after him and felt lost and lonely. He tried to reach out to people, but he could never create attachment with anyone.

So, he just kept killing and making sure people stayed away, because it was better than to get hurt.

And then, he met you.

He started caring for you more than he’d care to admit and soon enough, he wasn’t feeling as lonely anymore.

Jason *hugs you tightly*

Jason started looking up to you and even though he was also afraid of what will happen when you get too old to keep him company, he still wanted to keep you close to him—no matter how sad he would be once he would have to say goodbye.

Brahms Heelshire:

Brahms looked at you and shook his head—as if he didn’t believe you.

"Y/N…Never going to grow old. Will stay young forever. Young forever with Brahms."

He hugged you and closed his eyes.

Deep down, he knew that you’d eventually grow old and disappear. But, in his mind ? You’d always be perfect. No matter how old you get or how afraid you get.

Brahms : "Don’t worry, Y/N. Brahms is here. Brahms will stay with you…"

He held back tears and just hugged you tighter.

Norman Bates:

Norman: "…Darling. Listen to me. I am the oldest slasher to have ever existed. I was born in 1932. I am old. Very old. But…I would give up a whole eternity just to be with you. So, it is not about having a long life, but a good one. A worthy life. And just meeting you made mine worth it. And if I was to die tomorrow ? I can say…I lived a good life." He smiled and stroked your cheek affectionately with his forefinger. "You should do the same. Stop worrying about when your time is gonna run out or because of the few wrinkles on your face. Just remember to have fun and enjoy your life. Take the advice of a man who’s seen it all."

He then put down a tray on the table.

"Now, tea ?"

Jack Torrance:

"Old ? Ah. Don’t you worry, sweetheart. You’ll be one hell of a cute old lady, if you get there." Jack never got the chance to grow old. He secretly misses being alive. He would have loved to grow old with his family and be a father to Danny. But, he never got there. He died—frozen and alone. He then came back as some sort of ghost who feeds on fear. So, no. Growing old isn’t something he would find scary, or losing you. Because he knows that when you do grow old and eventually leave this world, you will go to a nice place—unlike him. And if you don’t ? Well, you’d be trapped with him. Either way, he knows you’ll be alright. So, he isn’t worried.

"You’ll be fine. I know it. Now, stop worrying and come have a drink with me."

Hannibal Jr.:

"You will always be a Hannibal in my eyes. No matter how old or wrinkled you get…You will always be my beloved daughter." Hannibal Jr. told you when you shared your fears with him. He stroked your cheeks and smiled. "Always."

You smiled at him and hugged him tightly. He returned your hug and whispered in your ear.

"You will always be part of this family." He then kissed your forehead. "No matter what."

Ghostface (Eddie Munson):

"…Don’t worry. We will grow old together. It will be less lonely." Ghostface told you and smiled at you. Unlike the other slashers, Ghostface can grow old. He is not exactly a slasher. It is more of a multitude of people taking the role with time. Eddie won’t be Ghostface forever. Once his mission over, he will start growing old as well until he just gives his mask to someone new.

Ghostface *scoots closer to you and wraps an arm around your shoulders* : "I bet we will be the coolest old people ever…" *smiles*

#pennywise x reader #pennywise 2017 #pennywise 1990 #vincent sinclair x reader #five hargreeves x reader #jason voorhes x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #norman bates x reader #jack torrance x reader #hannibal jr #hannibal x reader #ghostface eddie munson

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aristia-pjoheadcanons · 4 months

Text

Masterlist

author's note: a list of all of my headcanons

PJO related:

HOO crew HCS

Percy Jackson:

Poseidons children, blood bending

Percy + dehydration, thoughts

Percy x Jason x female!reader dislikes blowjobs + small boobs hc

Missing Reader x Platonic Percy

Percy NSFW x virgin reader

Percy Jackson NSFW P1

Percy Jackson NSFW P2

Percy x gn!reader taking a hit for him and almost dying

Percy kissing HCS

Hot things Percy Jackson does

Endearing things Percy does

Percy Jackson Icks

Percy Jackson x Child of Hades (SFW + NSFW)

poly!relationship percy and jason with you

Dating the daughter of hades

Dating a daughter of Apollo

Percy Jackson is very alluring

Percy Jackson makes his crush laugh

Percy Jackson is the type of guy…

What Percy would be like in bed

polluted water in NYC and Percy

dark! percy analysis + headcanons

Percy giggles

Jason Grace:

Jason coming home from quest (HOO) x jealous female!reader

Percy x Jason x female!reader dislikes blowjobs + small boobs hc

Jason NSFW thoughts

Jason Grace x general dating hcs

poly!relationsip percy and jason with you

Dating child of hecate

Jason eats raw meat

Gods/Goddesses:

Thanatos x Daughter of Hades

Teen Ares thoughts hc

children of poseidon can control blood if their parents suffer from blood disease

ares gets emotional after wars

trials of apollo, GodTube

ares and athena contrasts

ares headcanons

children of ares are mature with handling conflicts

children of mars and ares

frank zhang and ares/mars arguing in his head

underestimating children of ares

thoughts ares with his fire eyes

ares headcanons

others:

Luke Castellan as your boyfriend

Nico di Angelo flinches when he hears sirens

Drabbles/Thoughts:

percy has a staring problem

cabin 5 headcanons

percy is pretty scary when he's angry

percy in love

percy jackson dehydration

ares kids hit themselves with a brush

children of ares, poseidon and aphrodite appearances hc

avatar zuko + hes a child of ares

harrypotter and pjo crossover

children of ares hcs

when a child of ares speaks, everyone will hear them

underestimating children of ares (yes, i know i put it twice)

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brucewaynehater101 · 2 days

Note

I come again w/ another Tim Drake au!!

So there's this fanfic "If We Could Only Utter the Words Left Unsaid" by TaintedCure on AO3

And now I wanna share an idea

TW for suicide because of Timothy + death-fueled-time-travel

Basically, whenever somebody kills Tim, they go back in time, and there's no limit to how many times he can die. they go back far enough to prevent his death or not do an attempt on his life

He dies during Titans Tower? Back in time you go Jason!

Cut his line and he broke his neck and died? Damian is now back in time!

Some goon cracked his skull too well? Say hello to the past bucko!

Hell, even accidental murders still register so if you were to accidentally push him off too high a ledge you're getting the Time Travel Treatment

Hey maybe Tim still is aware of his time travel powers, but only when it comes to natural causes (like hypothermia) or suicides, so as a result he thinks he knows it all when he in fact doesn't

So yeah, unless somebody spills, Tim is clueless to the whole truth of his powers

I imagine only old age would do him in at this rate

It'd be like real interesting to see all the POVs, especially if they think they know all the loops

Like there's Tim who's regularly exploited his powers to get perfect results but is trying to convince himself he isn't being too frivolous with his life since he's saving lives or making them better

Then there's the people who did him in and may or may not even be aware that the time travel they experiences was because they killed the Third Robin or got him killed

Then there's the people who've done him in maybe one, twice or multiple times and have clocked into the fact that murdering Tim is an exercise in futility

TW: suicide (powers revolving traveling time by dying), violence/abuse (skip the angst if you don't want the second one), and death.

Now, this is a very interesting concept, and I'm probably gonna get lost in the setup for a bit.

The way that Tim's powers work would have to be defined really well. How far back can he go? In the fic you mentioned, he has a save point, basically. He can die an infinite amount of times, but he'll only return to his save point unless he reaches past the OG time he died. He can play around as much as he wants between the savepoint and his death, but a new savepoint gets set up after he passes his OG death time. It also indicated a decrease in time he went back (or his savepoint was established) so that he'll eventually die for good if he kept using his powers. That solves a lot of continuity issues.

However, the setup for Tim's powers could be like SSS-Class Suicide Hunter. For those who aren't familiar, the MC revives 24 hours in the past. He ends up killing himself thousands of times to end up at least a decade in the past. It's been a while since I've read it, but that's the basics of it.

If we're working off of those rules, anyone who kills Tim is only working with 24 hours in the past. You can add more or less time to fit your AU better.

I have some questions about the setup. You mentioned that the person who kills Tim would get sent back without his knowledge. Therefore, in Tim's mind, has he never been murdered? Or, is it a two for one ride into the past? Does the villain get sent back into the past, but Tim doesn't know the past has been changed? Or does Tim get sent back as well, but he doesn't know the villain is also sent back?

Imma get into the angst in a bit if Tim doesn't get sent back into the past when he gets murdered.

However, the issue with this is fucking with the timestream. If a goon kills Tim, ends up 24 hours in the past, and past Tim kills himself within those 24 hours, what the hell is the timeline? Does the goon still get sent back in time? Does Tim get sent back, and then, when the goon is supposed to, his consciousness gets sent back during that time? Does Tim killing himself wipe out the goon being able to travel back in time?

Continously, I assume if villains found out about the power, they would gun for Red Robin with prejudice because they know they'll get a cheat that way. They get a ticket to the past if they kill the bird. They get a redo.

Alright. Angst time!

Bruce is the first one to find out about Tim's power. He's training with Tim when, as per usual, he takes it a bit too far. The man has a habit of not pulling his punches in a fucked up version of trying to push Tim away from being Robin. This time, when he punches Tim, the kid doesn't get up. It's a wonder he didn't hear the awful crack or notice Tim's neck wasn't quite right. Only not recieving an answer after berating Tim about not getting up causes Bruce to pause. He doesn't hear breathing.

Oh gods. He doesn't hear breathing. Is Tim dead? Did he kill Tim? Did he break his nec-

Bruce snaps to attention mid lecture to Robin. They are both in the cave (not on the training mats not on the mats not on the mats), and it seems the exact same as it was yesterday when he was yelling at Tim about proper batarang maintenance.

Tim, ever the observant Robin, leans forward as if to ask if Batman was okay. Bruce flinches back.

Tim's eyes widen in shock as he takes a step back. In the year or so he's worked with Bruce, he's never gotten that response to initating touch. Tim's eyes flicker down to his hand in recrimination and puzzlement.

Bruce takes a shaky breath in before dismissing Tim for the night. The child is hesitant to flee but follows the request.

Bruce doesn't know what happened and he's not sure he wants to find out.

This cues Bruce being kinder to Tim and less harsh. The detective figures out that Tim has a time traveling power upon death, but it appears as if Tim isn't aware of it (he doesn't know that Tim constantly kills himself for better results in field). Tim never finds out that Bruce's change in behavior to him was born of guilt. He never learns that his dad killed him.

Next angst!

Two concepts with Jason.

One, Jason creates a fucked up timeloop with Titan's Tower where he kills Tim over and over again in fucked up ways until he satiates his desire for bloodlust. If Tim is still aware of the Tower incident, that's because Jason wanted him to be. Whether Jason becomes guilty about this timeloop he created or not could also be explored. There is a fic out there kind of similar to this concept (timeloop Titan's Tower, not the added element of Tim's powers).

Two, Bruce does end up killing Jason in the showdown with the Joker. He batarang slices Jason's neck, the building blows up, and Jason never emerges. There's a few ways to add on top of this angst. If Titan's Tower happened before this (and Tim was left beaten), that means Tim chose to kill himself to save Jason. Jason will never know. That, or Titan's Tower happens afterwards and Jason tortures Tim not knowing the teen saved him from a second death at the hands of his father (ironically Tim also doesn't know that he's been killed by Bruce).

Last Angst!

Damian finds out about Tim's power and abuses it constantly. He's a kid that was raised to be an assassin and found someone he can kill that also gives him the benefit of getting away with anything. As long as the kill goes through, he's golden.

Eventually, Damian starts to slow down on this. He doesn't really want to see Drake choking on blood again.

He one day finds that he hasn't tried to kill Drake in months and he doesn't really want to try to.

Then he finds that list.

Then he cuts Drake's line.

Then he has to relive those 24 hours again knowing he killed someone he was starting to trust.

Bonus angst if Tim finds out, jokingly asks his family members how many times they have killed them, and finds out Dick is the only one who hasn't (Tim killed himself after the 16th birthday incident and he somewhat blames Alfred for that, though he'll never tell him).

#dc comics #dc universe #tim drake #jason todd #bruce wayne #damian wayne #dc au #batfam au #thank you for the ask!!!!#i don't feel like editing so let me know if there are any errors!

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incorrectbatfam · 1 year

Note

Do you have any angsty headcannons of Damian Wayne

Sometimes I wonder if he has any insecurities about being the youngest and the fact that he's fifth (sixth? seventh?) in a long line of batkids who have already done pretty much anything he can think of. Blowing up the League of Assassins? Tim did that. Starting a superhero team? Sure, Damian's done that, but it's kinda derivative of his siblings'. Dying? That's literally Jason's whole schtick. With older siblings, he's gonna invariably end up with some hand-me-downs and it's a lot harder to carve his own unique identity.

He's over the whole "blood son" thing, but he can't help but feel a little jealous when Bruce talks so fondly about the others' Robin days, meanwhile Damian is still referred to as "having potential" and needing to work on this or that. It's like when your siblings have a bunch of trophies and you know you're just as capable, but you haven't been given the chance.

As Robin, everything he did was measured up against his siblings. Dick stuck the landing better. Tim was more careful with evidence. Steph decoded the riddle faster. Jason could take on twice as many goons. Though Damian tries to do things his own way, Robin never feels like something that's fully his.

Even though the Waynes can buy ten of everything, he still ends up with some of his siblings' stuff—Dick's sweatshirt, Jason's books, Tim's old camera. Damian can try and pretend they belong to him, but then he comes across a scribble in the margins or an old picture of Young Justice and it's a reminder that he's still tethered to the people who came before him.

And maybe that's why he still picks fights and gives people a hard time. At his age, he'll do anything it takes to stand out so someone notices him, and being difficult accomplishes that. As an immediate result, he gains individuality by being known as the Demon Brat. And because he gets that instant gratification, he keeps doing it over and over.

It's no secret that he and Tim aren't always on good terms. I think part of it has to do with Tim being the next closest predecessor and Damian has an easier time picking him apart compared to facing off against Dick or Jason. Because of that, though, I think Tim would be the first to pick up on why Damian is this way.

Do they communicate about it? Mmm not yet. This is the most emotionally stunted family we're talking about, so instead of indulging Damian's behavior, Tim flat-out ignores it and it's one of those instances where ignoring works because Damian stops, at least with him.

But then he moves on to Steph, but her tolerance is way lower than Tim's and she lets Damian know that. She straight-up tells him, "Hey, quit being obnoxious. It works now because people are going easy on you, but one day someone's gonna screw you up and you won't have a Batman to run to."

He doesn't really believe her because 1) he was never one to care what strangers think about him and 2) getting the job done was more important than being liked to him.

Cut to school being back in session. Damian mainly keeps to himself—partly to lay low, partly because he never got along with other kids before and didn't see the point in trying again. His grades are stellar and for the first month or so, teachers praise him all around for being a model student.

But that eventually slows down as his straight-A's and thesis-sounding papers become routine—it's his norm, and teachers stop pointing it out as something remarkable.

And just like before: when being Robin stops working, be the Demon Brat.

He keeps his grades up, but the teachers start sending emails home about things like chewing gum and using his phone in class. Every time, Bruce just reminds him to behave.

One time Bruce offhandedly mentions how Jason was a well-behaved student and Damian can't help but think, "That's the point. I'm not Jason."

The emails pile up, now with new problems like extended bathroom breaks, breaking the dress code, and even one incident where he forged himself a note to get out of class early.

But the thing that lands him in detention is a snide comment to the wrong kid that spirals into a schoolyard brawl. And even though Damian pulls his punches, it still ends in bruises and a bloody nose, and it takes two teachers and the football coach to break it up.

And just his luck, Dick's in Bludhaven, Alfred has a doctor's appointment, Tim and Bruce are at a business meeting, and Jason wants to stay out of this, so guess who's there to pick him up at the end of the afternoon.

Steph doesn't beat around the bush. Her first response is, "What did I tell you?" And it pisses him off because she's right.

That evening, they go on a long drive where she eventually gets an explanation out of him. And she gets him, 100%. She tells him how she had big shoes to fill as Batgirl and how she always compared herself to Cass and Babs.

Then she says: "Robin isn't a personality you grow into or break out of. It's just a costume. Who you are underneath is who Robin becomes."

For good measure though, she goes to Bruce later like, "Hey, do you need a laxative? 'Cause you're so emotionally constipated that you forgot your son is his own person, not a work in progress or extension of someone else." Then she swipes his credit card and takes Damian to the arcade to make him feel better since he still has a week's worth of detention plus Alfred giving him double the chores.

After that, people will still occasionally slip up, but when Dick ruffles his hair and says they'll ace a mission "the Damian way," it's reason enough to believe that things are looking up.

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stealingyourbones · 1 year

Text

Submitted Prompts #82

So I found out that besides beating the absolute tar out of Jason, Bruce also dragged him back to Ethiopia to relive his traumatic death/revival in hopes of finding a way to bring back a recently dead Damian[???]

Mind you, I absolutely hate thinking about how abusive Bruce is towards his kids and would rather pretend he’s a parent who tries, you know? But fuck if that cursed kernel of knowledge spark an idea:

There’s been a couple of fics that play with the idea that forcing a ghost to relive their death is a major taboo in the Ghost Zone, severely punishable and all that jazz.

Now it’s the aftermath [however that was, Idk], peeps are probably rejoicing over Damian’s revival [right?] and Jason’s most likely somewhere, you know, coping I assume.

Until Walker is knocking on their door and demanding their presence to the Court of the Dead [Don’t remember if it had a name, this sounded pretty cool lol] stating that Batman’s presence is required to receive his sentence.

As all things are when it comes to Walker, he doesn’t give them a choice.

Jason’s call comes a bit more peacefully, mind you, but given it’s an eyeball, it probably wasn’t much better.

Cue Jason poofing onto some chair in some courtroom, thinking he’s the one in trouble, cue Batman poofing in that giant glass cage [You know, the one Vortex was stuck in upon his intro]

Everyone, predictably, are unarmed.

Jason is unsure what to feel at the sight of them.

Walker in all his weird size shifting glory, steps forward to loom over Bruce, large book in hand and sneering down at the human trapped before him, “Bruce Thomas Wayne, alias Batman, founding member of the Justice League, you’ve been summoned to the Court of the Dead to receive your sentence.”

“On what charges?”

Walker’s sneer deepened, “On what charges?, he says.”

The book in his hands quickly sift through pages, one after the other until it comes to a stop, popping up in a screen for all to see its contents, Death’s Echo, the chapter title says.

“Why, you’ve committed the ultimate taboo, human. Victim of the Echo: Jason Peter Todd, alias Red Hood alias Robin II, date of birth August 16th, 1993, date of death April 11th, 2008, date of awakening October 27th, 2008. Date of the crime d/m/y.

You’ve forced a ghost to relive their death, violated the peace of their core, potentially destabilizing a ghost’s existence. Upon Death’s Sermon, or for the betterment of your puny human understanding: You broke a law, a law punishable by termination.”

“He’s not dead.” Despite what become of their relationship, all the bloody conflicts that have followed, Bruce can’t stand the idea of Jason dying.

One of the many eyeballs that seem to take up the majority of the court, steps - ahem! floats - forward, and despite lacking any other facial features, gives him what is noticeably a look Alfred would give him when he’s being particularly bull-headed, “That is irrelevant. The boy still carries the mark of death with him, therefor is still a denizen of the Infinite Realms, therefor still falls under our jurisdiction.”

“And all rights to the Court’s defense.” Walker adds, closing the book in his hand with a pointed snap, “You’ve been out ruled, punk.”

The batfam are looking around them as the entire room full of ghost clamor for Bruce’s termination, angry and indignant alike.

Tim - despite all his years of training - panics and doesn’t think twice before standing from his seat and calling the large ghost’s attention, ignoring Dick’s frets, “And where’s your evidence? Where are your witnesses to back up these claims, do you even have any?"

The sudden silence is almost smothering, and Jason can’t help but watch as all eyes turn to the boy in question.

In all honesty, he doesn’t know how to feel about all this, about Bruce being charged for what basically amounts to torture in these creatures’ eyes, not even over the fact that he still seems to be considered dead.

"For a genius, for a detective, you don’t seem to know much about death, do you?”

The ghost all seem to straighten at the sound of the voice, almost like they’re a classroom being called to attention. Despite its calm volume, it carries throughout the whole room, demanding everyone’s attention, their respect.

The bats immediately zero in on the source, a large chair big enough to be considered a throne sits in the first floor, enshrouded by shadows, the lighting of the room doesn’t seem to touch it at all, only lit by the green flame of a crown. Showing them measly impressions of a man’s face.

The man stands, steadily walking forward till he’s standing in the light. He’s tall, broad, looks about Bruce’s age, and is donning black armor. His presence fills the whole room.

He bothers Bruce only a glance as he passes him before he fixes his attention back on the boy.

“Now I know you’re not naive, Tim Drake. Death is everywhere, no matter how seemingly clean, no matter how peaceful, there’s no place on this planet death hasn’t touched; death is my domain, I see and I hear the voices of those who have passed - do you know what that means?”

“You have eyes everywhere.” Tim concluded, uneasy in what this might mean.

“I do. Now I can show you and your siblings the whole event, but for the sake of Jason’s continued peace of mind, I will not. Point stands: This is not a trial, Timothy, this is a sentence - your father does not get defendants or supposed witnesses to offer evidence of his supposed innocence, there isn’t any.”

Tim doesn’t know what to feel when the man turns his attention towards Jason, who despite the harrowing experience, has remained utterly silent throughout the whole endeavor. Jason despite his mass and his known capabilities, looks meek under the ghost’s attention, bracing for whatever he might say.

It’s off-putting.

“I have eyes and ears everywhere, detectives, that very much includes the victim in question. Now Jason, I want you to answer me honestly, and I promise you that you’re safe here, can you do that?”

Jason’s eyes swept over the whole room, glancing at his siblings before stopping on Bruce, still silent, still ever brooding and angry, before offering a small shrug in response, “I guess.”

“Did he force you to relive your death and subsequent revival?”

“………He did.”

Jason thought it was a chance to join in on a collaborative mission, all hands on deck and all that jazz, hoping for reconciliation, to mend things.

“Did you give your consent on the matter?”

He just wanted to move on, to leave all that anger and resentment, all that pain, behind him. He thought Bruce wanted the same, but apparently not, Bruce didn’t seem to care about what he was asking of him, he just wanted some chance to get his son back.

Like Jason never mattered.

Jason offers a small shake of head in response, trying to ignore the way everyone stared at him, “No.”

The man gives him a reassuring smile, bowing his head in gratitude and Jason only feels relieved to be rid of the attention as the king looks towards the rest of the family

“Lucky for you, however, Bruce is still very much human. So he won’t be facing termination,”

“Your highness -” A swift hand silence the skull faced ghost

They don’t relax, they can tell there’s more to the offered appeasing.

The family sits in silence as this kings dishes out Bruce’s punishment.

Any further interaction Batman has will be on Jason’s terms, he will not seek Jason out, he will not make demands, he will certainly not impose his will on him.

Along that, he is no longer permitted to step foot in Crime Alley and anywhere else that might be considered Jason’s territory [haunt, they called it haunt, it felt daunting being showed the ghostly significance in it.] without expressed permission. If there’s a moment in time where Batman’s presence suddenly becomes unwanted, Jason apparently possesses the power to evict him.

Bruce is stripped of any sort of control he might’ve had over his wayward son. The court is in Jason’s favor for once, it seems.

Batman is not allowed to use anyone else in his favor.

Bruce Wayne certainly isn’t exempt from these demands. The Ghost King seems to know them very well [Eyes. Everywhere] and seemed to be prepared for them to seek out any loopholes.

Any attempts to disregard these demands and he will be guarded. Heavily. By shadows, and by his very own ghosts.

The ghost king derives a lot of pleasure in informing Bruce that his parents never left his side, watched his struggles, watched his successes, his relationships with partners and children alike.

Jason almost wants to say it seems cruel to throw in Bruce’s face the disappointment his parents feel in Bruce’s…..less stellar parenting methods.

He’s still trying not to think about the fact everyone is apparently being haunted by the souls of the people most important to them.

Bruce remains utterly silent, looking for all the world like the weight on his shoulders has double, troubled as the time pressed on, until he utters.

“And how long will this sentence be?”

“Until you both can completely trust - no wait, scratch that, Jason already trusted you, had faith in you, something of which you had no remorse in taking advantage of. No, until you learn how to trust him.”

The bats try not to wince at that.

#bones submissions #dpxdc #uh hi bones here #hey homie what the actual hell this is a whole ass fic #im in awe #just casually drops over 1k like its nothing #i respect and admire you homie

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jasntodds · 3 months

Text

Petrichor [16]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader (little bit of fwb)

Words: 13,749

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, blood, gunshot wound, a little bit of gore, mentions of death, panic attacks, hurt/comfort

Summary: ❝Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work. Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.❞

Gotham is home, not just for Jason but for you, too. And now that you’re both finally back home, together, you’re ready to see where this next chapter brings the two of you. He’s your best friend and you’re his. And you both might want a little something more with being back home, the place you both feel most comfortable. Surely, nothing could possibly go wrong now.

A/N: Hey!! lmao so sorry for the super late update. I was sick and then some personal stuff happened and then I thought I got covid so yeah hi lol I'm so sorry lol This chapter was like 20k+ words so I split it into two because that was a lot lol You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

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Jason is stuck pacing back and forth in the room he’s calling a bedroom now. Worry has taken every part of him as his hand grips his phone like a vice. It’s been hours. He hasn’t heard from you or Dick or Gar. He hasn’t heard from anyone and he’s tried calling you seven times. But, your phone is off and your phone is never off. That is the one thing about you, your phone will never be off unless there is a reason for it and being hurt isn’t a good reason. Not to you. The only time your phone even dies is…never. Jason thinks about it and he doesn’t think you’ve let your phone even reach 20% in the entire time you’ve known each other. He thinks it’s probably so someone can always find you and you can always call for help because you’re almost paranoid about it dying. Your phone doesn’t die.

That leaves Jason thinking the worst of the worst. If your phone is off, that means it has to be dead or you shut it off for some reason but that’s uncharacteristic of you. So, he thinks maybe it did die and if it died, that’s because you didn’t charge it. If you didn’t charge your phone, it’s because you were physically incapable of charging it. What if something really bad happened? What if you were shot somewhere else? Jason knows Crane wanted you taken care of, maybe he shot you twice but you’re really good at hiding your pain when you need to. Adrenaline probably kicked in and shock, you were scared for Tim. Maybe you didn’t realize how bad it was. What if there was a complication of some sort and something bad happened?

Jason’s mouth starts to water as his eyes burn. His brows pinch together hard as his teeth grind so hard his jaw starts to ache. He was brought back. But, a part of him really hates that he was. Would you want to be brought back? If you died, would you want to be brought back like him? Jason comes to a stop, trying to steady his own breathing as his leg aches and burns. The scars on his chest feel like he’s being cut open again. What if you don’t want to be brought back but Jason did anyway? What if you did, and he does nothing?

What if you did die?

If you did die…Gar would call him, right?

Gar would definitely call, Jason assures himself. Gar would call immediately if something were happening. He has the number now and Jason’s ringer is on with the vibration set to strong. He has no missed calls but he’s certain Gar would call. If not, he would have called Molly and Molly would have found a way to call Jason. If you were dead, one of them would call him.

And then Jason swallows his own heartbeat as his phone starts ringing.

Gar.

“Hey.” Jason clears his throat, trying to keep himself together as he tries to prepare himself for the worst news he’ll ever get.

“Is she there?” Gar asks and Jason can hear the worry etched in his voice.

“Uh…no?” Jason questions and he’s not sure if he should be relieved or panicked with Gar not knowing where you are. At least he’s not calling to tell Jason you’re dead but that does not rule out you bleeding out in a ditch somewhere. “I told her to go with you.”

Gar sighs on the end, running a hand through his hair. “She took off. I thought maybe she went to find you but she was hurt and she’s not answering her phone. Molly hasn’t heard from her either.”

Jason already figured you wouldn’t go to Molly. If you went to Molly, she would worry, give you a look you don’t like, and you’d run away again anyway. The last thing you’d want to do is drag Molly into it further. But, Jason really hoped you’d have listened for once and just went with Gar. Or at least sent a text to one of them to let them know you’re okay or not.

“She hasn’t been around.” Jason keeps his voice quiet and he looks around his room as if the answer is going to be written on the walls.

“Uh…hey, I know this…might not be what it’s for, but can you track her? She was shot and we’re all really worried.” Gar’s voice is hesitant as he scrunches his nose, hating the idea of having Jason do it. It feels like an invasion of privacy, especially Gar being the one to ask but it’s a last-ditch effort.

Of course, Jason’s been thinking about it. But, something in him can’t get himself to do it. On the small chance you did shut your phone off, that means you don’t want to be found. Jason can’t overstep, he can’t intrude on you. Even if he is desperately wanting to because you could be dead. He thought maybe he’d give you twenty more minutes and then he’d just do it anyway.

“Have you looked for her?” Jason asks, eying his tablet you left out.

“No, I called you first.” Gar admits. Honestly, Gar doesn’t even know where to look but he knew Jason would.

With no one out looking for you, maybe they don’t have to track you and possibly invade your privacy. If you’re just blowing off steam or punishing yourself, Jason knows exactly where you’ll be. He figures, if him, Gar, and Molly can’t find you within an hour, checking all of your spots, he’ll use the tracker.

“Okay, you and Molly go look for her at her usual spots. Molly’ll know ‘em and I’ll check a few others. If we don’t find her in an hour, I’ll track her.” Jason nods his head on the other end.

“Do you think we’ll actually find her? I mean you know how she is.” Gar isn’t trying to be pessimistic but it’s been hours and he thought for sure, you would be with Jason.

Jason can feel the panic attack starting to course through his blood. His heart is racing and his hands are growing clammy and he’s getting unreasonably angry. It is not Gar’s fault because even on a good day, getting you to listen is like pulling fucking teeth, especially when it has to do with taking care of yourself. Jason knows this better than anyone but he’s mad anyway and he knows it’s the panic attack. You were fucking shot and he took off so he’s mad at himself for listening. And he’s mad that you were shot and Gar didn’t stop you. He can turn into a fucking tiger for fuck’s sake, couldn’t he have turned into a tiger to stop you? Tackled you to the ground and pinned you there, dragged you to the manor kicking and screaming if that’s what he had to do. You were shot and maybe you’re dead now and he didn’t help. And Jason didn’t fucking help.

“Fuck! Gar, then you should have fucking followed her!” Jason snaps and immediately feels bad about it but any part of him that should apologize is washed over with guilt and regret and more anger. “Just go fucking look for her with Molly and I’ll look other places.” Jason grabs his coat from the bed and heads for the door.

“Where should we start?” Gar is quiet on the other end.

“The zoo.” Jason spits right back without even thinking. “Start there, then the harbor and I’ll–” Jason cuts himself off as he swings the door open, seeing you right in front of him with bloodshot eyes and blood-stained clothes and hands.

Gotham never sleeps. It never stalls. Everything is always moving, always loud. There is always something going on, people always going from one spot to the next in their lives. In some ways, it’s a little comforting. A reminder that you are here. You are here and alive like all of the people you passed on your walk here living their own lives. On the other hand, you wish it were quiet sometimes. You wish it were quiet sometimes because everything seems too much sometimes and your skin crawls while your heart feels like it’s going to beat out your chest. Your head spins and everything feels too much. But, it was quiet in the basement. It was quiet in the tower before you were attacked. It was quiet in the tunnels. It was quiet when you found Jason. It was quiet when Tim was shot. Maybe quiet is the surrounding air grieving for the mess fate’s created.

So, you stand in Jason’s doorway because quiet with him, alive and breathing, has always been the safest place to be. You stand weakly, haunted by everything that’s happened as the very idea of existing physically pains the deepest parts of your heart.

It’s hard to go through the same shit all the time. You’re just supposed to be fine with it. It’s happened before and you got over it, so you can get over it again, right? At some point, someone reaches the end of their rope and you think you might be there. It is the same pain over and over again and it never gets any easier. Time passes and it all just hurts anyway. People say time heals everything but you don’t think that’s true because you think about your mom dying and it’s like the wind’s been kicked from your chest all over again. You remember Jason’s body and it’s like you're being waterboarded. Time doesn’t heal anything. It’s not even like you’re used to it. You were just traumatized and avoid thinking about everything so it doesn’t fucking hurt so much. But, even that’s just exhausting. Existing is hard and tiring and painful.

Maybe you’re just tired of being in pain.

Your bottom lip starts to quiver and you always felt safest with him. Even from your own thoughts. You never felt too much pain around him. He always knows exactly what to do and it’s all too much right now. Being alone doesn’t work anymore. So, you stare up at him as Jason’s brows pull together with a cross between worry and relief.

“Jason?” Gar calls. “You there?” Gar asks.

“I got her.” Jason says. “She’s here. I’ll call you later.” Jason says quickly before hanging up. “Hey.” Jason’s voice is soft and careful, noticing you’re not making eye contact with him.

You walk the couple of feet up to him as Jason keeps his stance, almost ready to do whatever you’ll need. And all you do is lean forward and rest your forehead against his chest. Jason lets out a breath and you’re able to pull one in for the first time. Jason rests his hand on your back, rubbing up and down slowly as he hears you sniffle against him.

“Gar was calling in a search party. Where the fuck were you?” Jason asks and he should have some sort of bite in his voice but he’s too worried and too relieved.

You look back up to him and shake your head. “Walking. I couldn’t-I couldn’t…do it.” Your jaw squares as you try to hold back your own tears. “S-sorry..I-I didn’t mean to…to, uh, worry you guys. I-I just…just couldn’t.”

Jason nods with understanding, looking you over and it doesn’t look like you took care of the gunshot wound. Your clothes are soaked and your hair is an utter mess. There’s blood on your face and he swears your cheeks are stained with tears and you actually look cold.

Jason rests his hand on your cheek and you finally meet his eyes. “You alright?” Jason asks softly.

“Hurts.” You mutter and his hand almost feels like it’s burning your cheek. He’s so warm.

“The gunshot?” Jason questions, almost afraid of the answer.

“Everything.” You answer weakly with defeat.

You've never seen his look on him before. His jaw is squared but it’s soft rather than harsh like he’d been trying to shatter his own teeth. His brows are pinched but not completely pulled together and they’re aimed downward, etched in worry. His eyes are scanning you over every few seconds as if he’s stuck between thinking you aren’t really here and terrified something really bad is about to happen. Jason Todd worries and you've seen him worried plenty of times but this is different. You've seen him scared, too, plenty of times. More times than you can really count. But, this is different. It’s a different look and it’s because it’s you. And that look alone, chops and hacks at the barrier holding you together until it finally crumbles at your feet.

“It’s all my fault, Jay.” You sputter as you feel your eyes starting to water again. “It’s all my fault and I really fucked up and Tim could die or he did die. I don’t even know cause I left and I’m a fucking coward for leaving and it’s all my fucking fault.” Your mouth waters and you can’t look at his eyes because it’s all too much. “And there was so much…blood again. And the last time…it was you and it was horrible and I lost you and I couldn’t do it again and it just hurts all the time.” You suck in a shaky breath. “And-and Gar would say it’s not my fault and he’d give me the look but it is my fault. And Dick would be mad at me and I deserve it but I can’t hear it right now because I don’t know if I can handle it. And….it’s just-it’s just my fault. And I don’t know if could save him but I tried and I tried to save you, too.” You sputter before a sob finally rips through your throat. It bounces against the walls in a strangled and broken wail as if the very life you've lived has finally taken its toll on you for the last time. Jason isn’t sure he can listen to it because it physically pains him to see and hear you like this.

“Y/n.” Jason tries to get out but you shake your head.

“I tried really fucking hard to save you and it didn’t work. And I had to call Bruce and beg him to help me and he couldn’t and it was so fucking horrible and painful and scary.” You try to suck in a breath as tears scatter down your face. Everything is just wet and ugly, and burning. “It was so bad and I was so alone.” You suck in a ragged breath, your voice cracking and breaking between sobs. “Because Molly didn’t know and fuck Bruce and Gar wasn’t here. I was so alone and it was so scary because there was so much blood and brain matter.” Jason almost winces hearing it. “I don’t know if I would have been able to recognize you if you didn’t have the fucking Robin suit. It was so fucking bad and it hurts to think about and believe it happened but you’re here. And then Tim gets shot and there’s so much blood and I had to ask Dick to help and it’s like I’m there with your body again and it’s scary and it’s painful and I hate it. I hate how much it hurts. I hate doing this. I hate that it keeps happening.” Your chest heaves as you look at Jason with tears soaking your cheeks and your eyes finally meet his. And all Jason can see is defeat. “What if it just keeps happening?”

Jason shakes his head and every single time he is reminded you were the one that found him, he sends himself into a guilt-ridden spiral. Of course, you found him. That isn’t the issue. The issue is what it looked like from your perspective and the devastation it caused. He knows. He knows what it is like to find someone you love dead. He knows and it’s horrible and painful and devastating. It makes someone feel completely hopeless and helpless and useless. There has never been a time where he felt more helpless. And then he put you in that same position, not on purpose. But, he did and it was worse because it was gorey and traumatizing and he left you. He didn’t realize how badly it had traumatized you. It traumatized him, too but it affects you.

Dying doesn’t just happen to the person that’s dead. It happens to everyone around them.

“I’m so sorry.” Jason says softly, sliding his hand off your cheek. He shakes his head, biting his own tongue because he almost wants to cry with you. “I’m fucking sorry.” Jason wraps his arm around your shoulders as he pulls you into him. He’s careful not to hug you too tight, minding the gunshot wound he knows he’ll be taking care of for you later. “You’re not coward.” Jason manages to get out as he tries to come up with an answer for you even though he doesn’t think he’ll ever have one. The reality is that it will keep happening.

“Yeah, I am.” You argue back before you look up at him. “What fucking person just leaves as their friend is bleeding on the ground?”

“Someone who’s fucking traumatized.” Jason bites back. “Someone who was also fucking shot and in shock. You tried to help him and me knowing the shit you’d get for it. You fucking knew I went after the Joker and you show up alone, ready to take him on by your fucking self if you had to. You think that makes you a coward? What’s that make me then, huh?” Jason questions back, knowing you’ll never think of him as a coward, even if he sees that in himself sometimes.

“Not a coward but that’s different.” You argue.

“Fucking how?” Jason spits back. “You left Tim with Dick and the rest of the Titans who would know what to do. You were also fucking shot.” Jason shakes his head.

Jason wonders if this is what it's like dealing with him sometimes. Going round and round, circling the drain into a self-destructive spiral that only seems to have one result. It's not that he minds, it's that you think this. You're anything but a coward and Jason can't even figure out how you could think otherwise. You always do what you think is best for yourself and for the people you care about. Always. And you fight tooth and nail, as hard and as fast as you possibly can for what you believe. That's not cowardly.

“I-I know but…” You sniffle as you shake your head. “H-how can I keep doing this? I mean…losing people and the blood and….how can I do this for other people when I can’t even save the people I love?” You ask bluntly. “That’s shit, you know? We’re supposed to be out helping people and…and I can’t even…I fail with the people that matter. So, what’s the point?”

Jason would be lying if he doesn't question what the point is half the time, especially over the last few days. What's the point of living if this is even how it plays out? Pain and chaos, destruction and lonelienss. It's all pretty miserable, actually. But, he holds on anyway because it wasn't always like this.

Shit gets bad and then it gets better and yeah, it is exhausting sometimes. But, it's always gotten better. Jason doesn't know how much better it'll get from here now but he won't tell you that. He just knows he wakes up and he tries because you were nearly beaten an inch from your life and you find so much joy and love in small things that that alone seems to give Jason some sort of hope. And because Gar's family was killed and Gar was experimented on and he is the most optimistic person he has ever met. And because Molly lived on the streets with the death of her parents and Molly is the nicest person Jason has ever met. If all of these people can just be better after everything, than he can't very well just give up. And you can't either. Maybe there isn't a point but you'll never know if you give up.

“You know what you told me? You are the one that said sometimes we fail, that’s part of the job. But, we try.” Jason licks his lips as he sucks in a breath. “You talked me off the roof. Maybe Deathstroke would have tried to kill me or done worse shit if it weren’t for you. Fucking Pete Hawkins bullshit. The kid at Jerry’s. You were the one that fought tooth and fucking nail to save Gar. And you did, by the way. You saved Tim at Excellent Gotham. You failed two fucking times but by my count, you win more often.”

“Three times.” You correct him, earning you a glare. “Gar got kidnapped, we failed then…too.”

“You were both tranquilized and they used kryptonite on Krypto. I don’t think that counts.” Jason nods his head.

“I guess.” You let out a breath, looking to your shoes. “I just, uh,” You sniffle as you shake your head, looking back to him. “I just want the pain to stop.” Your voice cracks again.

Jason doesn’t say it, but he does, too. So, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into him.

You press your cheek to his chest, wrapping your arms around him as your breathing is still rapid and ragged. But, you can hear his heartbeat in between breaths. It’s fast but steady. A lot quicker than it usually is but it is there. A few more tears leak out as you count his heartbeat and are fully engulfed by his warmth. You hadn’t realized just how numb you had gotten from the cold until now. Your fingers and toes are starting to feel like painful pins and needles. Your arms are burning and your cheek sting from the salty tears. It’s as if you're thawing from his warmth. Between that and his steady heartbeat, you calm yourself down.

“I can try to help.” Jason whispers softly. “If you’ll have me.” Jason pulls away just enough to look down at you and your eyes meet his.

You told him before that you’d come for everything that ever hurt him if it came to it. Anyone that ever wanted to hurt him, would have to go through you. Because he was just Jason Todd to you. It didn’t matter that he could -- should have been able to -- take care of himself. And Jason knew that’s how it was for him, too. Anyone who wants to hurt you, has to go through him. But, the problem is that someone did hurt you…because of him. And he hurt you. Right now you're in pain and it’s because of him. It’s not right and it’s not fair to you but Jason wants to protect you. He’d cut out pieces of his heart and glue them to yours if it would make you feel better. He would do anything in this world if it would make your pain less. Any form of pain that wants to come for you, is going to have to go through him first. From now on.

You nod your head. “Always.” You croak out.

“Come on.” Jason releases his arms and cold rushes itself right back over your body. “Sit on the bed, I’ll grab you some clothes and supplies to clean that shit. We’ll start there.”

“Thanks, Jay.” You mutter softly, walking to the bed and Jason watches you carefully.

He wonders if this is how it always felt for you. He’d come home bloody and bruised, weak and pitiful. Scared and in pain. He never said anything but Jason knows you always knew. Somehow, you always knew when he was hurt and scared. But, it was always him walking through the door hurt, not you. And it was you that would stitch him up. Sure, he’s helped you with your hands, but you did it at least twice a week for months. And you never complained. But, Jason wonders if this is what it feels like.

It feels like he’s carrying the weight of the world for the both of you and he’s trapped in a worrying spin. And he is so fucking sad for you. It’s not pity, but just sadness. It’s wanting the best for you and you to have everything good in this world because you deserve it. And wanting to witness it because he loves you. It’s just wanting to see you smile and happy, making some stupid joke and telling him to fuck off. It’s just wanting you to not be in pain anymore. He wonders if this is how it felt being you and if so, he wants to know so badly how the fuck you dealt with it because he feels like he’s suffocating while he grabs you clothes.

Jason walks back over to you, handing you a pair of sweatpants and a red hoodie. “I got first aid shit in the bathroom so change and I’ll be back.” Jason nods his head at you.

“Okay.” You answer weakly and Jason hesitates for a few seconds before he practically runs off to the bathroom.

You're weak and unsteady as you change into the sweats. You're realizing you haven’t eaten in a while and you haven’t had much to drink either. That’s definitely not helping your mental state and you know it. But, if you were being really honest, none of those activities sound like things you're currently capable of doing. Changing is even almost too much effort at this point. And it fucking hurts as you try to take your shirt off to swap it for the hoodie.

“Need help?” Jason appears right back not two minutes later.

You always hated feeling helpless but not around him. “Yeah, it hurts.” You sniffle softly, sitting pitifully on the bed.

Jason walks over, resting the kit beside you before he lightly grabs the hem of your hoodie. Jason helps you tug it off of your bad shoulder and then over your head, you groaning the entire time. With the hoodie off, you're left in a blue t-shirt and Jason sees where the bullet hole is, covered in red and brown. With the chaos of last night, he didn’t check and wasn’t able to check if the wound was a through and through. Jason's stomach twists at the thought that it's not. But, he hides his worry, looking back to you with a soft sigh.

“How did you wanna do this?” Jason asks bluntly.

Your brows furrow in confusion. “I-I don’t know?” You shake your head.

“I can’t clean it with your shirt on.” Jason sucks in a breath and normally he’d have some comment about seeing you half naked again but he can’t quite muster it this time.

“Oh…” You whisper and you swear it’s fine. It’s not like you haven’t seen each other naked before and it’s not like you didn’t see Jason fully exposed just the other night. There is something that just feels…new and vulnerable again. “That’s fine.” You nod and Jason leans forward again, tugging the hem of your shirt up and over your head, freeing your arm. You grab Jason's hoodie with your good arm and Jason helps tug it onto your good arm, you thankful it's a zip-up and not a pullover. “Guess that’ll do.” You suck in a breath and you're kind of tired of feeling like this. “I expect you to actually help and not just stare at my tits the whole time.”

Jason manages a cheeky smirk. “You know I’m ass guy anyway.” Jason glances down and then back to you.

“Shithead.” You mutter and Jason’s head swims. It’s been so long since you've called him that and it almost feels nostalgic.

“Babe.” Jason quips back.

Jason takes out his phone, examining the gunshot now that there isn’t anything in the way. There’s still blood everywhere and he can’t even tell if it’s because you did such a shit job at cleaning it or if the wound is actually that bad. Something in his stomach twists and turns into a gnawing pain at the thought this is worse than he originally thought. But, he keeps a straight face, not to let his worry cross even a single line of his face. When he worries, you worry.

Jason grabs a wet rag from the bowl he brought in with him, gently cleaning around the area to try to get a better look. You let out a shaking breath, the water cool against your skin.

“Sorry, no hot water.” Jason barely glances to you as he scrubs some of the dry blood away.

“Should probably fix that.”

“Pilot lights are expensive.”

“I have Bruce’s credit card.” You mutter quietly, earning a look from Jason.

He stops, looking up at you fully. “You would.”

“Eat the rich.” You shrug. “Or take their money when it’s offered to you and he didn’t ask for it back.” Jason lets out a snicker before he goes back to cleaning. “You should use yours. It might send up a red flag for Bruce and maybe he’ll call someone back or come back.”

You hate the words as they leave your lips because wanting Bruce back means admitting defeat. But, Gotham has gone to absolute shit since Bruce decided to fuck off somewhere. At least Gotham had some degree of fear and respect for the Bat. They don't seem to like the Titans very much. And Jason's been off his rocker and you've been stuck trying to help him. Gotham does need someone they respect. Bruce should definitely come back. And if for no other reason, to see his son is alive again.

Jason scoffs. “Yeah, fucking right.” He shakes his head in annoyance. “Fuck Bruce. I don’t need him.”

Before he died, he was getting better about talking about his problems and the things that kept him up at night. He was doing better with it but then he comes back and the very idea of talking about it makes him want to crash through a window headfirst onto solid pavement. In all fairness, he already hated talking about Bruce. It was one thing to complain about him but it was an entirely other thing to unravel and dig into actually talking about him. Now, though, it’s worse because every time Jason thinks about Bruce, it’s as if his heart starts to break all over again.

Maybe him getting bludgeoned death was his fault. He knew better. But, where was Bruce? Bruce gave up on him. And then…was going to let the Joker just…live. Jason was supposed to be Bruce’s son and he couldn’t even kill the Joker for him or do anything about him. And maybe, just maybe, Jason could get over that eventually but Jason’s alive again and Bruce is nowhere to be found. With everything going on in Gotham, Jason is certain Dick would have called Bruce and let him know. If for no other reason than to rat Jason out to “dad”. So, maybe Jason feels like he was always a little expendable to Bruce, not just Crane or the Titans. And that part hurts the most.

“Didn’t say you did?” You let out a breath. “Just saying is all.” You pull in a deep breath. “Fuck Bruce, yeah. Just saying.” You, for one, still hate Bruce but Jason hating Bruce seems weird. You chalked it up to the drug at first and Crane but…Jason’s clean. It’s weird, even for Jason. “What’s your sudden issue with Bruce anyway?”

“You got a problem with me having a problem with Bruce all of a sudden?” Jason spits back and he shouldn’t, given your current state but his heartache over being abandoned by him is fresh.

“Oh, no. I am actually fine with that cause fuck Bruce but it’s weird. After all of that shit, you come back and suddenly don’t like him. That’s weird, Jay. Even for you.”

“Never fucking mattered to him. I was always just the replacement for Dick anyway. Doesn’t fucking matter.” Jason dips the rag into the water, rinsing some of the blood off before going back to the wound.

You furrow your brows, trying to figure out where that’s even coming from. “Uh…not true? Bruce is a fucking weirdo and shit but I actually think he gives a shit about you, Jay. Outside of Robin and Dick. You always said that, too. Like deep down you knew that, so what is it now?”

Jason grows more and more angered but he knows you aren’t going to drop it. “You were fucking right, alright?” Jason snaps back. “Should have killed the fucking Joker because he killed me. So fuck him.” Jason keeps his explanation short.

“Right yeah, had he just killed him, you wouldn’t have died and it doesn’t make up for it because too little, too late shit, but like…he did—“

“Can you fucking drop it, please?” Jason’s words come out more as a demand rather than a request. “I’m done fucking talking about it.” Jason looks at your shoulder from your back, seeing there’s no hole in the fabric.

“Sorry.” You say softly. It just doesn’t sit right with you. You’d still be pissed at Bruce, too because had he killed the Joker in the first place that wouldn’t have happened but that’s…not really Jason. He doesn’t hold many grudges and Bruce did kill the Joker. It was a little late for that but he did, to avenge Jason. Bruce didn’t throw his morals away for Dick, he threw them away for Jason and that would normally mean something to him. It’s weird but you know when to push and when not to. You're not in the mood to fight it anyway. “Just thought it was weird, is all.”

“It’s fine. Sorry.” Jason squints at the wound, seeing something shine back at him and his heart plummets. He grabs his phone, shining a light into the wound again. “The bullet is still inside.”

“Figured.” You let out a breath.

“I have to take it out.”

Your eyes land on his and you know this is about to suck. “Okay.” You nod your head.

“Lay back and hold the phone so I can see.” Jason hands you his phone as you do as told.

Jason grabs a pair of tweezers from the kit and he looks at the wound, grabbing your wrist to make sure the light is in the right position. Jason’s stomach twists into a hard knot, knowing how bad this is going to hurt. His leg starts to throb with the very thought of putting you through it. But, it has to be done. You're not going to go to an actual doctor for help and if he leaves the bullet in, it can lead to infection. So, Jason sucks in a deep breath and bends down hovering over the wound, careful not to block the light.

“It’s gonna hurt.” Jason glances up at you.

“Just do it.” You sigh, looking to the ceiling as your grip on his phone tightens.

Jason nods his head before gently sticking the tweezers into the wound. You slam your eyes shut as your jaw clenches. Your right hand grips onto the blanket beneath you as Jason moves the tweezers around. It’s burning and stinging like getting stung by a thousand hornets at once. It’s as if you're being shot in the spot over and over again as tears well behind your eyes. Jason is trying to be careful and quick, but the bullet is slippery thanks to the blood.

Your hand starts to shake as your breath grows rapid and uneven. You try your best to concentrate on anything besides the pain but that’s becoming increasingly more difficult. It was different when you were in the fight for your life. It was do or die and people can do absolutely insane things they should not have been able to accomplish in life or death situations. Your life isn’t in danger right now and even when you try to focus on something else, the tweezers move just enough and you're brought back to agonizing pain.

Given the events that happened, it’s hard for you to focus on anything other than the pain you're been in. You try to think of the good times but then those are tarnished like rusted silverware. Those good memories now come with pain, too. You try to focus on what you’re going to do about Crane because maybe that would kick in your fighting instincts but you're the one lying in a bed right now after being shot by him. Everything around you feels like it’s rusting and chipping away into a toxic pile of reds and browns. Tainted, tarnished, and broken.

Jason glances up to you and he can see the agony written in every wrinkle and pinch of your skin. And he can’t see with the phone basically vibrating in your hand. All he can even feel is anger and not at you. It’s entirely on him and Crane because at the end of the day, it’s his fault and Crane’s how you ended up here. You never should have been shot. You were only there to look out for him. You and Tim were collateral damage. So many people around Jason end up just being collateral damage. And they don’t deserve it. But, at the end of the day, he isn’t the one that pulled the trigger at you and all he wants to do is go right after Crane. Make him feel the same pain he’s put you through. And then worse.

“Y/n.” Jason says, sternly. “You have to stop moving. I can’t see.”

You swallow thickly, trying to stabilize your hand. “Sorry.” You manage to mutter through your gritted teeth.

Jason goes back to the wound but the second he sticks the tweezers into the flesh, you wince and flinch as hard you try to stay still. Jason is no stranger to this and he knows it is agonizing to pick something out of an open wound. Nerves and flesh are exposed that should not be. It’s horrendous and seconds feel like hours. And it’s triggering phantom pain in his leg as his heart feels like it’s being suffocated with barbed wire. He knows it’s bad when you're the one who can’t sit still.

Jason pulls back, putting the tweezers back in the kit before he cups your cheeks. He bends down so his face is just an inch from yours and you open your eyes slowly, your jaw still clenched and tears threatening to finally fall.

“You gotta stay still or I’m never gonna be able to get it out.” Jason’s voice is stern.

“It fucking hurts.” Your voice cracks weakly as you sniffle.

“You were almost beaten to death. This isn’t gonna fucking kill you. You’ll be fine.” Jason nods his head once at you before he presses his forehead to yours for just a second.

You nod weakly at him. “Yeah…”

“Just…stay still and I’ll be quick, alright?” Jason asks, seeing the doubt across your face. “I got you.” Jason offers a weak smile.

“Okay.” You nod your head in agreement.

Jason nods once more before he goes back to your wound. He focuses on the bullet while the tweezers hover above you and you can’t help but notice the lack of shaking in his hands. Come to think of it, you aren’t sure the last time you saw his hand so steady. Jason has always been so steady around you. An unmovable force.

Jason looks back to you, raising his brows as if silently asking if you if you're ready and all you do is nod quickly before looking back to the ceiling. Your grip tightens on the phone while you lock in place with all of your might just to try to stay steady.

The tweezers stick back into the bloody wound, carefully and steadily as they go right to the bullet. Jason keeps his eyes laser-focused on just getting the bullet out and you grit your teeth together as tears come to your eyes. But, you suck in a deep breath as you feel the metal scraping around the wound, clinging onto every part your self-control in order to stay steady. That’s when Jason finally is able to grab the bullet, pulling it out in a steady motion, careful not to drop it.

Jason holds the bullet with the tweezers as a triumphant grin comes to his lips. You peek your eyes open at him, the whites turning a bright shade of pale pink.

“Told you I got you.” Jason shrugs casually but the grin quirks into a cheeky smirk.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah thanks.” You roll your eyes as you sniffle.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, that shit was just, uh painful. I really don’t recommend getting shot.” You lay the phone down beside you before rubbing your right eye.

“Yeah, don’t plan on it.” Jason quips back. “Probably stop hurting soon without the bullet.”

“Be nice.” You let out a sigh. “And Dick really just went to bed like this. What a fucking psycho.”

"Yeah, but you went MIA." Jason narrows his eyes at you because maybe he is a little mad at you for it. They were all worried. He was worried. "You bitch about him but--"

“If you fucking say it, Jason Todd, I’ll kill you again.” You deadpan. “You two are the ones that are oddly similar, okay?”

Jason lets out a scoff. “Bullshit. I’m nothing like him.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, you are. You’re different but you’re similar. You just don’t wanna see it. What? You never looked up to him before all of this shit?” You ask.

Jason sits back on his heels, dropping the bullet in the first aid kit with the tweezers to toss and clean later. “What’s to look up to?” Jason scoffs. “Being a fucking kiss ass and a goody two-shoes.”

“Because he was the first Robin.” You state casually. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, about you replacing him and shit whatever. But, didn’t you ever look up to him for even a little bit?”

Jason hangs his head and while he’s always felt less than and a bit like a failure when it came to filling his shoes, he definitely did look up to him. Dick created something so special and surreal when it came to Robin. He wasn’t Batman, he was just a kid in a suit helping Batman and that was cool. Then Bruce had all of these stories about Dick and it always made Jason want to be like him because Dick was good. That’s how Bruce always talked anyway. Jason doesn’t know that Bruce always talked about Jason in the same way when he wasn’t around. And Dick doesn’t know how Bruce would talk about him to everyone else. But Jason heard the stories and how great Dick was. He never wanted to be exactly like him but he definitely wanted to be somewhat like him. Dick’s parents were killed and he got to be Robin. By all that Jason heard, it seemed he made it out of it okay. He had Robin and he got to carry that with him. He got to have a career in helping people (kind of). Jason did want to be like him but the way he sees it, there’s a reason people say not to meet your heroes.

“Still mad about the Joker shit but…uh,” You sniffle again. “Don’t know, be a lie if I said I didn’t look up to him…and you.”

“Me?”

“I always liked your Robin.” You say quietly. “You were different. Felt like we needed your version. But I told you that.”

“Surprised you still think it.”

“I think we need someone like Red Hood.” You state, catching Jason entirely off guard.

“What? Another fucking murderer?” Jason scoffs, looking to the window above the bed before he looks back to you.

He feels so ashamed of it all at times, like right now. It's because you're the one lying here after being shot by someone Jason thought he could trust. He knows deep down, crime in Gotham needs a change. The Bat doesn't fix everything, clearly. There needs to be someone out there that is willing to do more but Jason isn't sure that's him. He already burned his bridges. He doused them in gasoline and lit a match with a smile. He feels like he's on the wrong side and there's nothing he can do to rebuild that bridge to be on the right side anymore. If there's even a right side.

“No. Someone who’s willing to do the heavy and bad shit in order to prevent worse shit from happening. Like I said, I’m not just killing people for you, it’s for all of us and everyone that will come after us. I think we need people like that and people are afraid of you and rightfully so. I dunno. Just my take, I guess.”

“Been thinking about the people I killed.” Jason lets out a breath. “Heavy shit.”

“Yeah, but a lot of that is greater good shit and the other stuff is Crane’s manipulation so you shouldn’t feel too guilty for those.” You shrug your good shoulder.

Jason shakes his head and he doesn't how you deal with any of it. You don't normally deal with much, if Jason is being honest. But, you seem to be dealing with this pretty okay. Somewhere in him, he always felt like if someone were going to go on a killing spree, you would probably be that person. Your morals have never aligned with Dick's or Bruce's. You've always felt like more could be done, permanently. But, Jason's surprised you seem so okay with it and with him killing people.

“How the fuck are you dealing with it?”

You let out a broken laugh. “I’m not.” You answer honestly. “So much shit is happening that I just…can’t.” You shake your head. “Can’t think about it.”

Jaso nods with understanding. “Yeah.” Jason sucks in a breath, deciding to drop the conversation. It feels too much again. Too loud. Too heavy. “Stay still.” Jason leans forward, grabbing the rag before he starts cleaning her wound again.

You watch him carefully. He’s not handling anything well which you can’t say you really blame him for. You wonder what you would be doing if you were in his position. How would you ever forgive yourself for not only everything that’s happened but also being manipulated? Being manipulated isn’t Jason’s fault but you know he’s probably blaming himself for it because you would be blaming yourself for it if it were you. You wonder how he feels about coming back. You haven’t really talked about it and part of that is you're just afraid to ask because talking about him dying nearly sends you into a spiraling panic attack. But, you wonder how he’s dealing with that and if he’s happy he’s back.

Jason’s hands are steady as he grabs the gauze, his brows pinched together with concentration as he goes back to the wound and you find yourself wondering if you were meant to be anyway. Everything seemed so much easier in San Francisco. You weren’t together then and it was all just fun and games. Sure, you both were kidnapped and that was bad. But, that was one thing. Meanwhile, being together in Gotham has been a shitshow since the start almost. Maybe it’s just the butterfly effect but you wonder if it was just you both trying to find solace in each other or if it was as real as it’s always felt. Maybe you were just feeding off of each other’s own self-destruction and avoidance. Maybe being together helped the other one crumble.

Your eyes scan over his face and you realize, you don’t remember the last time you saw his face bruised. But, while you were together, he was always littered in them and almost always had one somewhere on his face like a Jackson Pollock. That solidifies the thought of you. Maybe you weren’t meant to be after all. Maybe you were actually bad for each other. Maybe you being together really was just you both self-destructing, knowing damn well one of you would die and it would destroy you. Maybe being together was always a way to hurt yourselves in the worst way.

And that hurts worse than the gunshot.

You've always been so sure about him. Even when you weren't sure, a part of you was. It was always supposed to be him. Him and you. But, you were shot and you're thinking a lot about how people's lives might be better if you weren't in them anymore. You're thinking about how things might be better for Jason if you weren't together. You skew your own reality, convincing yourself you got together in order to hurt yourselves. That's all it could possibly be. You ignore every thought about you confessing how loving him is the easiest thing you'd ever done. You push every thought of every soft moment you have ever had into the darkest part of your mind where they can be tainted and painted over. You push away everything Jason has ever told you and goes against everything Jason has ever believed about himself and what he deserves. It all feels like lies to yourself. It was just self-destruction because that has to be it, right?

You go back and forth with yourself. One part of you thinking this must be fact and the other part of you thinking it's just because it's a bad day. Everything feels worse on bad days and it is so easy to push everything good into a dark corner and paint right over it as if it were something different entirely. And today is a bad day. So, a part of you screams and begs for you to just ask Jason because Jason wouldn't lie. If it was all just self-destruction, Jason would tell you. He wouldn't lie about it.

“Do you think we were just a consequence of our own self-destruction?” You ask quietly, moving your eyes to the ceiling. "Or...was it like....real?"

Jason hears the question and pauses. He almost questions if he heard you correctly but he glances back to you and you're avoiding his stare which means he definitely did. His heart sinks and he thinks he forgot how to breathe for a second. Do you actually think that? Jason isn’t sure what would hurt more at this point. You thinking that’s all you were to him or that being all you were to you.

“What?” Jason asks, more for clarity.

“I mean like…exactly, uh, what I said. Do, uh, d-do you think we were just a consequence of our own self-destruction?” You chew the inside of your cheek and you regret asking. “Or…was it all real?”

The question hangs in the air like the blade of a guillotine, just waiting for one of you to pull the rope and end it all. The air starts to feel stale and cold and heavy as Jason doesn’t move, processing the question.

He’s not entirely sure where that question is even coming from. This whole time, you've wanted nothing more than him and you've said that. You have told him that he is all you have ever wanted. Why would you just be a consequence? Was he just a consequence?

Jason sits all the way up, coming into view. “Do you think that?” Jason asks bluntly as his breath hangs in the stagnant air. It’s as if he is clawing at the last remaining parts of his voice to remain steady and not shatter and break.

You look back to him, following the hollowed lines of worry of his face. You aren’t sure he’s breathing and you regret asking the question. You don’t even know why you asked in the first place. It’s not like you actually want to know because sometimes not knowing is just better, less painful. And the look on his face isn’t making you feel any better because he looks torn between devasted and angry.

“I asked you first.” You say quietly.

“No.” Jason states bluntly, almost harshly.

Being with you was never him self-destructing. In Jason’s eyes, as much as it all got fucked up in the end, being with you healed more parts of him than he ever thought possible. Being with you actually healed parts of him he swore would never be put together no matter how hard he tried. You made him better. He got to be who he wanted to be with you and shamelessly, you fully accepted him. And he really thought, he could be that version of himself forever because you always convinced him he could. You made him want to put in a hard effort into coming home and thinking twice before doing something a little too reckless, outside of the whole Crane and Joker thing. You showed him what it was like to be loved without conditions. And Jason loves you still. No conditions. No consequence. No self-destruction. He loves you yesterday, today, and he is positive he’ll love you tomorrow and every day after that because he wants to.

“Do you?” Jason asks, choosing not to elaborate.

You swallow a lump in your throat. Despite your own negative thoughts, you know you don't. Not really. Maybe you thinking it is a self-destruction thing, maybe it's your way of trying in order to punish yourself for Tim and everything else. But, no. Of course, not.

“No.” Your voice is quiet and fragile, making Jason’s heart sink because he knows there’s a but coming. “But, uh..we just…we ended up here.” You let out a scoff. “And, uh, I don’t know.” You shake your head. “We said some pretty fucked up shit to each other and I know…uh, I know you were high but, uh…yeah.”

Devasted. That’s all Jason can feel because he’s one of the reasons you even asked. He knows he said some horrible shit to you and he can’t take any of it back. Words are long-lasting. They enter the air and stick to it, absorbing itself into your lungs as you pull in a breath and let it fester there. That’s where the words start and travel to your brain where they store away, pecking at you just at the right moments. No one can take words back and Jason knows that. But, he has to try anyway even if he doesn't think it’ll salvage you. You have to know you meant and mean the entire world to him still.

“I didn’t mean any of that shit, okay? I swear, I didn’t fucking mean it.” Jason states quickly. “I was fucking high and I just wanted to fucking hurt you which is fucked up and I’m fucking sorry.” Jason spits out quickly but with a fire. There is no relief coming to your face and even if you are nothing to each other after this is over, he needs you to believe him. Jason cups your face. “I fucking swear. We weren’t a fucking mistake and you were the best thing that happened to me and I fucked that up. That’s on me. You made me better. I’m fucking so sorry, alright?”

You nod against his hand. And you know. You were also high and none of the shit you said is true. You didn't mean any of it. You didn't even mean the shit you said while you were sober. Maybe it's just a part of you that needs it to be verified today.

“I know and I’m sorry, too. I don’t know. I just get thinking about it, I guess. We both ended up here and it’s just…” You suck in a breath. “I know.” You place your hands over his. “Because I said some horrible shit, too, and then I hit you. And uh…I know. It’s just…that on top of everything else that happened. Like…” You shrug softly. “You died, Jason.”

Jason drops his hands, shaking his head, putting the pieces together. There is no way in hell you really think him going off on his own is your fault. Every piece of that shit plan, was on Jason. It was on him to just wait and get help. It was on him to reach out and get help. It was on him not to trust Crane. Everything was on him. That's not for you to carry.

“You don’t really think that shit is on you, right?”

“I should have seen it.” You sputter. “I should have fucking known, Jay. And the more I think about it, the more I think maybe I did know and maybe I just…let it happen to teach you a lesson about being dumb out there and—“

“Stop.” Jason cuts you off sharply. “You would never let me go after the fucking Joker by myself. You never would have even if you wanted to teach me some lesson. And I don’t think that’s it either. You do the same shit I do.” Jason scoffs. “I went after him. By myself. I do what I always did. I went after him. Alone, And I died alone. Because I never fucking ask for help. That’s not on you. And it’s got nothing to fucking do with us.”

“Yeah, but if you were me?” You question. “You’d be thinking the same thing. There were so many signs and I just…somehow missed every single one of them. I have to think I ignored them and maybe not to teach you a lesson but because I was scared.”

Jason sucks in a breath and he knows you're right because if it were him, he’d never forgive himself. If the roles were reversed, he’d also be questioning how he missed it and maybe he let you do it. Maybe he ignored the signs on purpose. Jason, being on the side he is, knows for a fact you didn’t willfully ignore any sign. You have shown him time and time again that if you have any say in it, you’d never let something happen to him. But, Jason understands why you think that so he sucks in a breath and decides to take some of that Gar advice for once.

“I remember what I was thinking about while the Joker was playing whack-a-mole with my head.” Jason mutters, earning him a grimace and a glare from you.

“Really?” You give him a displeased look.

Jason shrugs. “Well…” Jason sucks in a breath with the quick raise of his brows.

“You do though?” You ask cautiously.

Jason nods. “Yeah, I…I remember everything.” Jason swallows the growing lump in his throat. “Told you that, but…yeah.” Jason nods quickly. “Remember thinking I should have just listened to you. I should have told you because you would have talked me out of it, you would have told Bruce and Dick. I’d be pissed…but you would have helped and I wouldn’t be getting killed. So…just fucking saying,” Jason sucks in a breath and goes back to your wound. “Me dying had nothing to fucking do with you and there was nothing you could have done differently. We weren’t a consequence our own self-destruction. I’m really fucking sorry for all of the shit I’ve put you through.”

Your brows furrow and your heart starts to break again. It must be a horrible task to wake up every single day with memories, even down to final thoughts, about literally dying. You know it’s your own personal hell at this point but the idea of Jason reliving it every single day…it’s worse. And the fact he brought it up without you asking, you know.

“I forgive you, Jay.” You say quietly. “And I really, really, mean that, okay? Your, uh…your last thoughts…were regret?” You ask cautiously.

Jason shakes his head. “No.” Jason answers plainly. “Not all of them.” Jason lets out a breath. The last thing Jason wants is to talk about how the last thing he remembers is knowing he was going to die. You don't need to know that, that's for damn sure.“I-I don’t want to talk about it though. I really just needed you to know that.”

“Thank you, Jay." You watch him carefully, seeing something distant and broken cloud over his eyes. His brows pull together as if he's in pain and his hand starts to shake. You hope he'll talk about it one day. Maybe being brought back isn't all it's cracked up to be. "When you do want to talk, please talk t me.”

“I will.” Jason nods his head at you once before finishing up the wound.

“Maybe we were both just ticking time bombs to get here.” You suck in a breath. “I don’t think we were a consequence and it was real for me. I just…had to ask I guess.”

“Maybe we kept each other from getting here.” Jason nearly mutters the words under his breath before he goes back to fixing up your wound.

You let the silence fill the room as you think about it because maybe he’s right. It wasn’t until he died the two of you fell off the deep end. Sure, things weren’t great for you both mentally but maybe you together helped stabilize some part of you both. Maybe being together was the glue you both needed like a kintsugi sculpture. Putting broken pieces back together to be better than they were before. You both ended up here but maybe that’s better.

In the last two weeks, the two of you have learned more about each other and life and the consequences of everything. Maybe that’s how it was supposed to be. So, you both could be better people today. Maybe you both rely too much on each other to help you mend your broken pieces but that doesn’t mean you were bad together or you were the cause of this. That doesn’t mean who you both are today is worse. Maybe who you both are today is better because it’s honest.

You both are scared but you both are honest and you aren’t letting your fears control every aspect of everything you do. You’re both standing up for yourselves in ways you didn’t think you would. Jason is figuring out his shit now and standing where he should. Where he wants. He’s standing up against people who made him feel worthless, something he otherwise never did too much. Maybe this is who you both are meant to be in the end and maybe that’s not so bad.

“Done.” Jason backs away as you look down, seeing your shoulder bandaged. “Don’t get shot again.” Jason manages the tint of a smirk.

“Gee, I wonder why I didn’t think of that.” You mock him before you sit up and slide the hoodie on entirely.

“Yeah, you really fucking should have. I mean, get it together, babe.” Jason offers a little bit of snark, the smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Okay, fuck you.” You laugh softly. “Thank you.”

Jason nods his head. “Anytime.” Jason smiles softly at you.

You pull out your phone from your other hoodie and hand it to Jason. "It died and in the chaos, I dropped my charging block." You offer a guilty smile as Jason takes your phone and plugs it into his charger. “So, uh, what’re you gonna do about Crane? Like….fuck.” You roll your eyes.

“Kill him.” Jason spits.

“No.” You shake your head. “I was serious. I wanna kill him.”

“Seriously?” Jason quips.

“Yes. I’m sick of people making you think you’re some fucking monster when you’re not. And he fucking sucks anyway. He did everything to you, he almost got Dick killed, he’s gotten innocent people killed, he almost killed me, and he killed or almost killed Tim. Yeah, I’d like to kill him.” You let out a sigh. “I mean, if you really want to kill him for what he did to you, go for it just let me get a shot in. If it’s for me? Let me do it.”

“It’s kind of fucked we’re even having this conversation right now.” Jason chuckles. “Fine. But, I get a few fucking shots in. I meant what I said, no one gets to fuck with you again.”

“And I meant what I said. No one gets to fuck with you, Jason Todd.” You offer him a sweet smile, something that should feel off given you're talking about killing someone but instead, it brings Jason some sort of comfort.

A smirk grows onto his lips before it turns soft. “Can handle myself.”

“Okay, no the fuck you cannot.” You quip back as you let out a soft laugh. “Just because you can though, doesn’t mean you have to do it alone. I got you.” You smile softly at him. "You and me."

Jason remembers a night a few months ago and he was sitting in the library reading because things were just a little too heavy and loud that day. You walked in and started scrapbooking on the floor just so Jason wouldn't be alone. And he remembers thinking how peaceful it was, just the two of you. He remembers thinking he felt lucky.

In a world where he experiences so much pain and unfairness, he felt lucky in that moment and in every moment he got to spend with you. As much as he loves to beat himself up, especially these days, he'd like to think maybe he can be lucky again. Maybe he can be at peace again one day. If you keep on thinking this and keep a hold on him. If you're willing to not let him do this alone, just as you said all those months ago in San Francisco, maybe you can get back to where you were and maybe you both can be lucky and at peace. Maybe the universe will offer some sort of kindness for the suffering it's caused you both.

“What about the Titans?” Jason asks, clearing his throat and swallowing his own thoughts.

“Right, yeah, I uh, I need to talk to Dick still. I told them it was Crane last night, not sure really if they believed me or not. Hope so. I’m sure Gar did so that’s at least good.” You nod your head a few times, hating the idea of having to explain this whole thing to Dick. You're kind of tired of being the mediator.

“We could just go take out Crane ourselves.” Jason suggests casually as he gets up and walks to the other side of the room where he has a mini fridge seated against the wall.

"While that does sound like fun," You laugh softly because you wish you could actually just do that. It would probably put an end to all of this but Dick would lose his shit. “I have an idea.”

“I hate when you say that.” Jason groans as he grabs two bottles of Gatorade and a box of granola bars from the top of the fridge before he walks back over to you. Jason tosses the box and one of the Gatorades at you before he plops down and scoots himself so his back rests against the wall, his legs extending in front of him. "Assumed you haven't eaten or had anything to drink." Jason explains, cracking open his Gatorade while you do the same.

"Yeah, I haven't thank you." You give him a soft smile before you start explaining yourself, grabbing a granola bar before you start your ramble. “Taking Crane out would be a fun time and he deserves it and most of our problems would likely be solved. However, what if Dick is right? What if he does have something bigger planned that we don’t know about? And then we kill him and like…maybe he poisons everyone somehow or blows up the city? I don’t know. We kind of need to know. And knowing his whereabouts would also be kind of helpful. So, what if you just….side with him still? Be the inside guy, right? And then Dick will really believe us that it wasn’t you who shot us and you won’t have to worry about Dick trying to turn you in, I wouldn’t let him but still.”

Jason pauses, holding the open bottle of Gatorade to his mouth. He's pretty sure you're suffering blood loss because that's insane. It's about as insane as you saying he should take the drug to not go through withdrawal. You're losing your sanity. "He already poisoned the water." Jason states.

"He did what now?" You blink at him.

"Your phone died, yeah. The water is poisoned with something he did so don't drink it. GCPD put out an alert this morning." Jason explains.

"Oh, that's fun. Well, still. It's Crane. You know he has something completely insane planned. Probably." You scoot closer to Jason, sitting on your knees right beside him.

“You want me to work with fucking Crane after he just tried to kill you? That’s fucking insane. Do you know that?” Jason questions with a groan. He wants nothing to do with Crane, even if he could get information from him.

“Yes.” You nod once.

“Fuck no.” Jason shakes his head in the same casual manner before snagging a granola bar.

“Jay, look, okay he thinks he can still manipulate you so let him think that and find out what he’s up to.”

“He won’t tell me shit.” Jason shakes his head in annoyance as he unwraps the granola bar.

“Maybe he will now. If he just tried to kill me and you go back to him anyway, right? Say I turned on you or whatever. That I think it was a setup against me so you wouldn’t have to be the one to pull that trigger. If he knows you’ll turn on me, maybe he’ll finally trust you enough to tell you what’s going on. You’re a pretty good liar sometimes.” You urge him and you know this is an insane idea but it's what you have. The Titans will never figure out Crane's plan without some inside help. They need it.

“You said I was shit liar.” Jason argues, pointing the granola bar at you.

“Well, to me.” You chuckle softly. “I always know when you’re lying but I think you can lie pretty well when you actually need to. I mean, no one figured out you were Robin. And I think that was obvious. I met you and all I thought was that it made sense.”

“This is fucking stupid.” Jason nods his head casually.

“Yeah, well, this whole thing has been fucking stupid. You go back to Crane, work with him and I’ll stay with the Titans. You call the burner when you find shit out and I loop Dick in. You don’t have to physically be home to work with us. You find out, the Titans bring in Crane and shut down whatever shit he’s got going on, then we kill him and you go home.” You explain simply and Jason hates just how convincing you can be.

You make a good point. Jason knows he can lie his ass off, he just wanted to argue. He's worried though because Crane has a way of knowing Jason is lying. It's how he found out about you from the beginning of it all. Jason couldn't just lie because Crane would know. It wasn't exactly a life-or-death situation then though. Maybe Jason wasn't trying all that hard to get away with lying then anyway. Crane admitting his plan would be helpful and Crane thinking you turned on Jason would give Jason enough motive to give up on the Titans entirely. It's not a horrible plan but Jason isn't happy about it.

“Alright fucking fine but this is shit and you know that.” Jason lets out a groan.

“I know.” You smile. “But, it’ll be worth it when his prodigie betrays him in the end.” You scrunch your nose, smiling with pride and Jason can see the light come back to your eyes. He thinks you're gonna be okay.

“You know, kinda hot when you got a plan all ready to go.” Jason offers you a cheeky smirk, his eyes raking over you before coming back to your face.

“I do have my moments.” You grin wickedly at him. “Kind of hot when you actually do what I say.”

“Alright, fuck you. Don't get used to it, babe.” Jason chuckles, shaking his head as the white streak flops onto his forehead. “When we doing this?”

“You could head out now, meet up with Crane and I’ll head back to the manor.” You suggest before taking a bite of your granola bar.

“Alright, just, uh, be careful, please. Let me know if shit happens with the Titans. I don’t want them attacking you for this shit.”

“I got it. I’ve been dealing with them the whole time. Don’t worry, Jay.” You smile softly a him as Jason gets to his feet and stands in front of you.

There's something dark in his eyes this time. He's standing over you as if he doesn't really want to leave. His brows are pinching together in the way they always do when he's worried and his jaw is squaring. He's putting all of the pressure onto his good leg, something you still notice immediately. But, he stands as if he's an unmovable force anyway and the smirk drops from his face.

“I’m serious, alright? Be careful.” Jason sucks in a breath and you've never seen him this kind of protective over you before.

“I will, promise.” You offer him a soft nod before Jason reluctantly heads out.

Jason is still hesitant, keeping his stance in front of you and it feels wrong. It always feels wrong to just leave. But, it's not his place to offer something else in place of him leaving anymore. And he also knows the second he walks back to Crane, that'll probably the last time you see each other until it's resolved. You're going to have to go to the Titans and Dick will likely be watching you closely, to make sure you don't get yourself killed or flip sides again. A lot can happen in a day or a few days and you were just almost killed. It scares the ever-living shit out of him, the very thought of losing you the way you lost him. He hates that he's leaving again. It's what he has to do and he knows that but knowing what he has to do to end this, doesn't make the decision any easier.

Jason leans down, placing his hand on your cheek before he rests his forehead against yours. Your eyes fall closed, a soft and subtle smile coming to your lips.

"Don't do anything fucking stupid and for once, listen to Dick and Gar, alright?" Jason asks, pulling just enough to see your face.

Your brows pull together. "You want me to listen to Dick?"

Jason is still mad at him and maybe Dick wants him dead still. That's always a possibility but something Jason knows, now that he's thinking with a clear head is that Dick does try to protect the Titans. They're his family and he's the leader. And Gar is one of your best friends. The two of them won't let anything happen to you if they can stop it. He knows you taking off had nothing to do with Gar and after last night, Jason thinks Gar would try to actually stop you if it happens again.

Jason's jaw squares, reluctant to say it again. "I'm serious. You got fucking shot." Jason quips.

"Okay." You agree softly, knowing if Jason is asking you to listen to anyone, you should probably take the advice. It always means Jason is very worried and serious. Two things that are a bit unsettling. "I will, promise." You smile softly before pressing your forehead to his for a second. "Now, go, okay? I'll be fine."

Jason nods his head, pulling away and dropping his hand. "I'll call when I find something out." Jason offers one last nod before he turns and darts out of the room.

Jason heads out to an old mechanic shop to meet up with Crane and for the life of him, he has no idea why he's even agreed to this. The only thing he wants to do right about now is kill Crane. He wants to fight him and shoot him and cause him horrendous pain for what he's put you through. He could have killed you and Jason swore no one would ever get away with it. But, now he has to walk in here and pretend he's not pissed about it. He's a good liar, but he doesn't know if he'll actually be able to withhold his blooming hatred.

When Jason meets with Crane, Crane seems to be acting perfectly normal, seemingly believing Jason will always be on his side no matter what. It's something Jason finds to be interesting because he already knew Crane was arrogant. But, he didn't think he was arrogant enough to think Jason would just be perfectly fine with him after being drugged, tricked, lied to, and used. He just shot Tim, possibly ruining his chances of actually going home. He could have killed you. Jason already threatened Crane but Crane seems perfectly fine with everything and Jason's wondering if that's because he agreed to meet.

"You could have fucking killed her." Jason starts with gritted teeth as they walk into the car garage.

"Yeah...sorry about that." Crane says casually. "She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sometimes, there are necessary casualties."

Crane is confident in his ability to manipulate Jason. Crane didn't have a single thing on the kid and Jason still spilled everything about Batman and the Titans. It was easy. It might become more difficult right now, but Crane is confident they'll overcome the current hurdle. After all, for the time being, Crane does still need Jason for his own disposal.

Jason wants to explode right here and take Crane out with him. A necessary causality? That's how you and Tim are being referred to? There is no such thing as a necessary causality when it comes to innocent people. Innocent people don't have to die. They don't have to be hurt. It was a choice Crane made in order to get you out of the way. To show Jason Crane is the one still running the show. And Jason has to stand here and pretend like this is all fine and lie. He's ready for this whole thing to be done and over with.

"You were right anyway." Jason sucks up his pride and do as you tell him. For that alone, Jason should get to kill him after this. "She was going to turn me in. It was all a setup, that's why she was even there."

Crane seems to perk up with Jason's words and he's hoping Crane believes him. "I did tell you she couldn't be trusted. That must be so hard to handle right now. But, see, now you know who has your back." Crane offers an eery smile. "Do I need to finish the job now?" Crane asks bluntly and he is definitely asking to gauge Jason's reaction. He doesn't miss the way Jason's hands turn into fists at his sides with his knuckles turning white.

"No." Jason states. "I'll do it." He states simply, releasing his hands.

"Good. Then you'll have nothing to worry about." Crane pats Jason's shoulder and Jason is ready to change the subject. He hopes that'll be enough bait for now.

"What the fuck is this?" Jason asks, switching the conversation as he looks around.

"This is where the victors go to rest their weary heads." Crane says.

"We didn't win." Jason argues. "They were gonna take me back but you fucked it all up." Sure, Crane did manage to poison the water but from where Jason is standing, it doesn't seem like too many people have been affected and with the alert going out, less people will likely drink the water. They didn't win anything.

"So you had a moment." Crane states simply, completely unbothered. "I've had plenty of them myself. Let bygones by bygones. I forgive you." Crane says before he pulls the cover off a yellow sports car. He lets out a sigh, as if to be pleased by the vehicle. "Sprezzatara."

Jason just rolls his eyes before he leans against the car, resting his back against the A frame. He's annoyed and he wants to get out of here. The hell if Crane forgiving him for? As far as Jason is concerned, he thinks getting him drugged was payback enough for him dealing the drug out behind his back. And Crane seems to be growing a little annoyed with him, too as he lets out a sigh before closing the garage door using the button hanging from a cable.

"Show some respect." Crane says sternly. "Sit." Crane depends, lightly gesturing towards a chair in front of a desk with a computer.

Jason does as told, sitting down and slouching in his seat.

"You know who Edward Bernays is?" Crane asks.

"The sauce guy?" Jason questions.

"Eggs and bacon." Crane says, taking a seat beside Jason. "Classic American breakfast. Do you know why?"

"What's this have to do with--"

"Pork farmers paid Edward Bernays to make it so. See, but Edward Bernays, he had this...this uncle, right? Dear old Uncle Sigmund. As in Sigmund Freud. See, and Freud taught Edward Bernays how the human mind worked. And Edward, he worked the human mind. He didn't sell the proletariat bacon. He sold them the idea that a hearty breakfast was what every doctor thought was best for them. After that, the bacon, it sold itself. Edward Bernays understood that an idea is the most powerful weapon we have." Crane explains before he swivels in his chair to face the computer, Jason eying him carefully and he's getting a really bad feeling about all of this. "It's not the product, it's how you sell it." Crane says as he brings up footage of Nightwing fighting some bad guys and Crane is in some type of editing software. "And Gotham is in need of a new product. We now interrupt your regularly scheduled program to bring you a message for the good people of Gotham.

Jason leans forward as the video starts to play, Crane already having sent it out as alert to every person in Gotham City.

Oh no.

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#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction #petrichor

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anxiousnerdwritings · 1 year

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def not an request but i wnt ur thoughts on this. you answered an ask once about the batboys + bruce lovin bruce's adopted sibling bcuz of how affectionate they are. and while I have alot of thoughts, my main one is just wonderin how they'd react if they died.

it could be from the rogue of the week, them dying bcuz they were held ransom and one kidnapper was trigger happy, a hitman for some reason. point is they died but i know for a FACT that jason and damian wouldnt think twice about using the pits to bring them back. they wldnt even think,, theyd just share a glance and nod.

like can you imagine bruce spiraling (they all are tbh) cuz his sibling died. alfred is trying to console him while comforting dick as dick is sobbing buckets. tim is trying to fight tears as he scours for any images of his aunt/uncle's killer and jason's in the back like "damian get the shovel" and a shovel spawns in damian's hands magically

sorry for this being long btw i waa excited

Everyone would be completely distraught at the loss of the only thing they felt kept them grounded. Their only sense of outward love, affection, and warmth being ripped away from them like that would be detrimental to everyone of them. Especially if the Reader has been killed so senselessly, like their killer didn’t even know who they were or their ties to Batman and the Batfamily or to Bruce Wayne in general. They could all blame themselves for being the reason a rogue got to them but just some random mugger having been the one to take away their beloved sibling/aunt or uncle would tear at them even more. Especially for Bruce, having the Reader taken away from him like his parents had been would mess him up all over again.

Honestly, there’s no doubt that Bruce, Tim, and Dick would heavily contemplate using the Lazarus pit to bring the Reader back. But it’s definitely Jason and Damian who don’t think twice about it and go through with bringing their precious aunt/uncle back. I feel like Alfed would be the only one to not consider it, whether he just can’t bring himself to do so or he’s come to accept the loss of the Reader.

The only reason I could see him being accepting/tolerating of the idea of the Reader being brought back by means of the Lazarus pit would mainly be for the sake of Bruce and the boys. Of course he’s affected by their death and not being able to be in their company again or to have them fret over him like they did, but it’s how hard Bruce and the boys take it that really has him willing to turn a blind eye while Jason and Damian go through with their plan. Alfred would also low key give his reassurance and acceptance to Bruce for him to go through with his own thoughts of bringing the Reader back to life. It may even be Alfred who plants the seed of using the Lazarus pit to begin with, in his own desperate way to get the family back to the way it was.

Also, in the case of a rogue having taken the Reader and was using them to get to Batman and the boys, I could totally see one of the villains’ lackeys being the one who deals out the Reader’s demise. Whether they went too far with trying to get information from them/roughing them up to add to the vigilantes rush to meet with the respective rogues demands or they just really wanted to take it into their own hands to get back at the Dark Knight/prove their worth to their boss. Either way, I could see their boss even being like “👀 You done fucked up and now we’re all going to die😬”. Trust me, Jason and Damian would go on a bloody warpath killing and maiming everyone involved in the death of the Reader or even just for being there, and I don’t even think Bruce would be in the mindset to stop them. Or maybe he doesn’t want to stop them.

In the case that the Reader was pointlessly killed by a mugger or low grade criminal for no reason other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time, Bruce and the boys would work tirelessly to find the person who did it. It would especially be infuriating and defeating if the Reader’s killer was just gone in the wind. No trace of the assailant, no leads off what evidence they did have, nothing. If they aren’t able to hunt the Reader’s killer down before they bring the Reader back to life then they would all be extremely paranoid about something similar happening to the Reader again, whether it’s the same assailant or someone else. Not getting that closure of permanently getting rid of the person who tore away their darling from them would weigh and all of them. They’d become even more overprotective of the Reader once they have them back and wouldn’t allow them to leave the manor for anything out of fear of losing them all over again.

Similar to Alfred, Dick would be the one consoling and trying to keep everyone together knowing that the Reader wouldn’t want them to tear apart like they already are. He pushes down his own heartache and hurt over the loss of the Reader to try and be there for Bruce and the boys, especially Damian. Alfred knows exactly what Dick’s doing, focusing on the others so he doesn’t have to deal with his own trauma regarding the ordeal. But Alfred doesn’t let that fly and he confronts Dick about it only for Dick to breakdown and unleash everything he’s been keeping under wraps.

The death of the Reader would really affect Bruce and the boys severely, they all shut down in their own ways. Sick is the only one who still comes off as his normal self but behind closed doors in another thing. Jason becomes even more aggressive and rough when dealing with any criminals, no matter how high or low on the food chain they are. Whatever sleep and healthy habits the Reader had gotten Tim to do to take care of himself went away the day they died. If anything he’s only gotten so much worse, a husk of what he used to be running solely off of caffeine and the need to find the Reader’s killer. Damian shuts himself off completely from everyone, not even Alfred or Dick can get to him. He won’t let them. All the wonderful progress he made with the Reader regarding letting others in and being able to let go of being the child of an assassin and vigilante and just allowing himself to be a kid is destroyed. He doesn’t want anything to do with anyone unless it’s his beloved aunt/uncle.

Bruce is a mess, both physically and emotionally. He’s taken a backseat from things, mainly pertaining to the Justice League and Wayne Enterprises. He stops by every so often and does want he needs to but he isn’t involved unless he really, really needs to be. Even though he has Alfred, Damian, Dick, Jason, and Tim, Bruce can’t help but feel cold and alone after losing the Reader. He feels the exact same way he did when he first lost his parents, before he adopted the Reader and brought them home to be his family. He knows he’s not truly alone, at least not physically but there’s a hole in his chest and he finds himself completely lost. He know he needs to be there for the boys, that the Reader would scold him for not being there for them when they need him most but he just can’t. He tries but he can’t do it, he can’t give them what they desperately need, not like how the Reader could. And that makes him feel even worse.

Bruce would be overcome with the feeling of being useless and vulnerable and he hates it. It would especially be hard for him if Dick and Jason were moved out of the manor leaving the family to be apart in such a trying time. Although, having Jason and Bruce in the same place together might not be good given that that may cause strife between the two. Especially if Jason blamed Bruce for the Reader’s death, or at least used Bruce as a way to let out his own grievances about not being able to save the Reader himself and projecting his own guilt and self blame about the whole ordeal.

This would only push each of them further towards bringing the Reader back by any means necessary. And they don’t care what anyone else has to say about it, they need their darling back otherwise their family isn’t going to last much longer without them.

Also, the overwhelming guilt and self hatred of Bruce or any of the boys if they had inadvertently been the cause of the Reader’s death. Like, while trying to get to the Reader maybe a stray bullet or knife/batarang/wing-ding hit the Reader and led to the their demise.

#anxious answers #yandere bruce wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne #yandere alfred pennyworth #yandere batman #yandere batboys #yandere dc #yandere dc concept #yandere batboys concept #yandere batfamily concept #yandere concept

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spaceycowboys · 1 year

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lil snippet of some pining!aegon and aemond’s wife (angsty on aegon’s end) i expect it to be finished and uploaded by tuesday! please let me know what you think!!

Aegon’s never felt this way before. The swelling in his chest so unfamiliar when you smile softly at him, a smile you typically reserve for your husband, directed towards him across the table at dinner.

Your hair is down this evening, something you’ve only started doing recently. Foregoing the braids and just letting it fall down your back, it looks better with the way it frames your face when it’s down, Aegon thinks to himself. By the looks of it, Aemond thinks so to.

Aemond loves you, his sweet and kindhearted lady wife, so very deeply. At one point it would’ve made Aegon sick to his stomach to witness, willing him to throw up whatever . The way he dotes on you, holds your hand while you walk through the Keep, brushes your hair back when it gets in the way of your reading, tenderly rubs your face with his thumbs when you get excited while talking.

It still does make him sick to his stomach, just not in the same way it used to. No. This sickness crawls at his chest, a feeling so cold yet so hot, and his stomach twists into tight knots, hands clamp up and throat swells in an unfamiliar way. It makes him feel like he’s dying.

Perhaps he is. Maybe not having a love like the love you hold for Aemond will ultimately be what kills him. He’s sure Helaena could love him if he could show her any kindness. He doesn’t want that kind of love from Helaena.

Aegon’s eyes watch as Aemond continues his conversation with Jason Lannister, but hand reaches for yours as you speak animatedly with Helaena about something.

His ears are ringing as he grabs the cup full of wine and downs it in two gulps. Aemond’s hand squeezes yours twice, you smile at Helaena as you squeeze his back. The servant girl refills his cup for him, tearing his eyes away from your joined hands he looks to her.

Her hair is the same color as yours. Though, her eyes aren’t the same color, eyebrows aren’t the same shape, lips are quiet a bit smaller than yours. Her hand looks about the same size as yours, even if it is rougher and has callouses.

She will do. He supposes.

“What is your name?” He looks away from her as he asks, and her hold on the pitcher tightens.

“I’m sorry?” Her voice is shaky, she’s already annoying him.

His head snaps back to hers, eyes boring deeply into her own as the girl feels her blood run cold, “I asked you for your name.”

She looks around the table. Her eyes lingering at the Queen, his mother, Helaena, and you for a moment.

“My name is Elaine, my Prince,” He hums a bored tone before nodding.

“I will require wine in my chambers after dinner, Elaine.” His voice isn’t soft, and he doesn’t hide what he plans on doing later.

His mother looks furious, Helaena just looks down at her plate. You, however, you look almost disappointed. As if you couldn’t believe he would do such a thing, let alone in front of his own wife.

#aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii imagine #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond imagine #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x reader #aegon ii angst

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littledead-ridinghood · 1 year

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do yk if jason smokes in canon?

Only as a kid and at that we only see it twice. First time is in the apartment he’s hiding away in while homeless where Bruce tracks him down to. And another time as robin in a retcon (as in he’d already been murdered) where he’s smoking on the docks in secret. Pretty sure it was written by Devin Grayson. Both were pre-flashpoint

We never see him smoke as an adult

Jason is def not the chain smoker fanon makes him out to be. As an adult or a kid

Many people have theorized the reason he smoked as a kid was because smoking staves of the feeling of starvation. And as Jason was literally starving to death on the streets, i buy that. Going with the retcon, he would seem he continued to smoke as Robin because nicotine is incredibly addictive and smoking is super hard to quit.

People also say that Jason would probably avoid smoking cigarettes as an adult due to literally dying via smoke inhalation (a la his death certificate which isn’t necessarily canon but we do know it was the bomb that canonically killed him soooooo smoke’s probably a no go) and the smell/taste would be highly triggering in some way. Which I dig as well. He dies with smoke in his lungs, he probably doesn’t want to reacquaint himself with the feeling

But ya, smoking is literally never brought up around Jason except for those two incidents. I assume a lot of people divulge in the trope for the bad boy persona trope. Personally I don’t as A. There’s frankly no evidence to show that Jason does smoke heavy/at all anymore and B. I’m just not fond of cigs

#jason todd

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nana-mizu-shiki · 4 days

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Kk. So. This isn't so much art but more a poem that I'm going to put into a fic I'm gonna make. Y'know song fics? Like that but with a poem. One I made and am going to give you the context of, I just wanna know if you guys would think a poem song fic would be cool.

The fic promt I thought of was:

What if Tim was dipped into the Lazarus Pit, but twice?????

And then I started coming up with a bunch of stuff listening to music, and I was like:

Thought Process? : Tim died in that desert. The Spleen incident didn't just leave him with a surprise surgery. It left him with glowing green eyes and half-white bangs. But of course, none of the Bats can know that, so, hair dye. Suprise, Suprise, the Pits don't bring Rage, they bring out the worst of a person. Jason? Anger. Ra's? Cruelty. Tim? Apathy. Tim's triggers? Betrayal, Abandonment, Reliance, Expectations Set For Perfection. Because. He. Has. To. Be. Perfect. Inherits Drake I. and Wayne E., slowly trying to cut ties with Gotham and The Bats, fades into the background until The Bats are too late to realize and too late to try to even stop him as he and Ra's make a deal. The deal? Cliffhanger. Up to the reader. And Worse? The Bats don't even realize as he left, taken back with The Demon Head to become his heir, and after months, training under Ra's himself, Returning to Gotham Under the alias of Shadow Shrike, civilian Tim D. W. A. G., although legally Timothy Drake-Wayne. Forever 17, hair shoulders length and bangs white, eyes permanently and mix of ice blue and mint green, flecks of Lazarus neon green passing even at simple glances of those he once called family. Dying his bangs temporarily in public, his vigilante-ism the thing that alerts the others of his return, his change. His Revival. His Death. Blah Blah Blah, Angst Confrontation Shenanigans, Details and Description of how the Pits affect Tim, how the Batfam try to reconnect and makeup, Yadda Yadda, Ends on a sorta cliffhanger thing where the reader chooses which Tim goes to as a Confrontation happens on a roof and Tim chooses between Jason, the Other Bats, Ra's, And Young-Just-Us.

Damn that was a word vomit.

Anyway, the poem is below,

Edit: I kinda realized the poem I'd really long and I'm considering putting this on Ao3 itself lol (*＞∇＜)ﾉ

👇

Green.

Abandoned and left; unthanked for,

Unthanked for?

They're ungrateful.

Green.

Lied and unapologetized to,

Left on Their own, and never recognized too.

Green.

Complete it all,

Raised to be Perfect,

Can never fall,

Always quiet and obedient,

Now Forever Indifferent.

Green.

To bring back the Bat,

Is to travel and turn,

Be ostracized and taken from,

Wings given to another,

Betrayed by those meant to be Their Brothers.

Green.

Betrayed and afraid,

Kicked out and replaced and stolen from a child,

To make a deal with The Demon Head

And to sell Their soul,

All Their worth,

All They've done,

What other choice?

What else is left?

Mentality;

Already on the brink,

Morality;

Like liquid and searching for who it obeys,

Green.

Left to die,

All alone

No longer were they meant to fly;

Sacrificing all their lives,

To help others and then left to die?

Green.

Alive.

Alive with no care. No care at all.

Apathy pulls the teen.

Eyes and vision glowing green all because of a spleen.

Okay so I'm not done but I really want to save this and post it on AO3, so pls let me know if you want to read more of this poem or the ideas of the fic it will go to. Thanks for reading (*^▽^)/★*☆♪*.ﾟ+ヽ(○･▽･○)ﾉﾞ +.ﾟ*

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pinepickled · 2 years

Text

Back at it again to talk about just how much I hate the very concept of Jason 'giving up' on the Joker to return to the batfam.

Like, I see so many people who write meta and fics that claim that the one true solution to the current conflict between Bruce and Jason is for Jason to have a come to Jesus moment about why killing is wrong and to just accept that the Joker will continue to live, doing so for the sole reason of reconciling with Bruce. To me, it just reeks.

I cannot say this enough, but their conflict is not about whether killing is moral or not!!! That is not why Jason just cannot make up with Bruce as things are! Jason was considered one of the only comic book characters to be permanently dead for a reason, his death continues to mean something even after his resurrection for a reason!! The conflict starts in that the man who was supposed to protect him failed to and Jason DIED! The conflict continues because Jason was not avenged at all! His death was meaningless! Completely, utterly, meaningless!

The whole reason Jason goes on his murderquest in Gotham is because he saw newspaper clippings of the Joker, still alive and well, escaping Arkham! He must have thought of all the times Joker escaped while he was just a little kid, how they were constantly rounding the guy up and putting him back, watching the body count that this man has personally caused go up and up and up while they were functionally powerless to stop it. Jason himself says so, directly asking Bruce why he's let the Joker fill entire graveyards with innocent lives!

Under the Red Hood is a well thought out story. It never meant to make the case for whether murder is morally justifiable or not, that was Batman's trauma filled excuse. The reality, as outlined in samiralula01's post, is that Jason's death killed Bruce. He lost his ability to be compassionate, loving, merciful, and more. His little boy was dead. Clinging onto his belief that murder is wrong was just a means to justify to himself why Jason's death would have to go unavenged, and as a direct consequence of this delusion and trauma, which is explicitly said in UTRH, most of Batman's sidekicks have left him! Oracle, Tim, Steph, Cass, everyone except Dick! He's pushed them all away because of this crippling fear of losing them like how he lost Jason, this fear that has made him a colder, less loving man. The fear that turned him from a bringer of justice and hope into a dark shadow.

Jason is right, at the end of the day. He knows the Joker cannot be rehabilitated nor contained, he knows that Bats is just making excuses for himself, and his point of view is further justified by two events: 1, the fact that Barbara was brutalized by the Joker even after Jason died, and 2, that Bludhaven and supposedly Dick was literally NUKED right before Jason went to kill the Joker and instead of running to see if his son was okay, Batman went after Jason.

Batman chose the Joker over his kids not once, not twice, not thrice, but four times.

Jason dying and the Joker living on was the first.

Barbara being tortured to the point of disability was the second.

Dick being nuked and Bats not running to save him was the third.

and Jason having his throat slit by a batarang so Bats could save Joker was the fourth.

UTRH is the story of how Batman does not actually have a solid moral ground to stand on anymore. It displays not only what a broken and defeated man Bruce is, but also implies several times, most notably through the coffin maker's story, that even Bruce believes that Jason is right. He believes that his precious second son deserved to be avenged, not even through bureaucratic or judicial means, but through death. UTRH is a story about Batman, all alone, making huge mistake after huge mistake.

Jason asks Batman to choose: him or me. The Joker or Jason. Your kids or a villain.

Batman chooses.

The Joker puts it the best, after Batman upholds his no-killing rule for the Joker by killing Jason.

"You managed to find a way to win... and everybody still loses!"

#under the red hood #jason todd #bruce wayne #batman #the joker #the red hood

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distort-opia · 5 months

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(1/2) So I read thru your Negativity tag, and if you have the spoons for it (no judgment if you don't): I think part of why so many Joker antis shit on Bruce's no-kill code is because he routinely forgets/loosens it for non-Joker villains/characters in general. KGBeast is the most infamous example, but there's just. Zillions of no-name henchmen and serial killers he's pulled the "Don't have to save you" routine on.

Hey! There's definitely some truth to this argument-- Joker's plot armor is infamous for a reason. However, I think there's a bunch of other factors to take into account when talking about Bruce's no-killing rule and his his flexibility around it, when it comes to Joker specifically.

I wouldn't agree that Bruce routinely forgets his no-killing code, or that he's done it for so many criminals. While it has happened more than once and it is a pattern, it's still more of an exception rather than the rule; most of the time, you see Batman desperately trying to save people, no matter who they are. It's actually something most villains use against him. It's why they constantly take hostages or throw someone off the roof of a building and then run the other way, knowing that Batman would always choose to save someone rather than chase. For a character with nearly a century of history, it's unavoidable he'd have a number of instances he's skirted the line regarding his no-killing rule... but also, for the same reason, you've got to keep in mind how many more cases offset these exceptions. Not to even mention the inherent inconsistencies that arise, when you've got thousands of writers handling one character over so long. The "I don't have to save you" thing is characterization more accurate to the Bruce Wayne present in Nolan's trilogy, which is where the line comes from. Also, there's a distinction to be made between Bruce directly attempting murder and Bruce allowing someone's death to take place indirectly. The KGBeast example is indeed one of the most famous, but to be fair, it was retconned very soon after-- with Bruce feeling guilty about leaving the villain to die and calling the police [Batman (1940) #439]. I've actually got a couple of posts talking about Bruce's patterns and his no-killing rule here, and here (with the latter being Joker-oriented).

To sum up a bit though, in the last post I make the point that Bruce has nearly killed Joker with his own hands twice (first time he got stopped by Jason, second time by Jim, and to be honest if I take Zdarsky's run into account, a couple times more). He also allowed for the possibility of Joker's death like three times just off the top of my head (letting him crash with the helicopter in DitF, letting Jim shoot Joker in NML after Sarah Essen-Gordon's murder, walking away from Joker while he had a bomb strapped to him at the end of Joker War). And thing is, Bruce has also canonically nearly stabbed Riddler, pretty much pushed Penguin out of a moving car even though he'd just gotten his throat slashed, left Scarecrow to die a potentially very gory death, and I could keep going... But then why is Joker special? Why do people still feel like he's the one getting special treatment, and find it so annoying that Bruce keeps saving his life? That he just won't die?

Well, it's two things: frequency and meaning, and they go together. Batman and Joker are one of the most famous hero-villain pairings in modern comic books, and the conflict at the centre of their dynamic defines their characters to the extent that writers can't help but come back to it, again and again... for the drama, the emotional stakes. See, it's much more engaging and it carries more weight to write Batman into situations in which his nemesis, the one person who's ruined his life most, is dying or facing death-- because then, the no-killing rule and his inner conflict over it is that much deeper and poignant. It's still interesting to see Bruce struggle with his treatment of more generic criminals, or even some of the famous Rogues, but Joker is special because he exists to challenge the no-killing rule. Joker makes it his goal to get Batman to cross the line and kill him. Joker literally wants Batman to kill him! But if Batman kills him and crosses the one line that he feels makes him who he is, then there's no story to tell anymore. You've got a monster like The Batman Who Laughs or the Bruce Jason encountered in Countdown, and a dead Joker.

In the end, complaining that Joker is in so many life-or-death situations and that he never dies because (more often than not) Batman saves him, is like complaining that a knife cuts your stake too well. Joker, as a character, is doing what he's designed to do. I will readily admit that DC has overdone this to death, and that many times it isn't written well. Joker's plot armor has gotten ridiculous, mostly because DC will never retire such a popular character that's making them so much money. But at the end of the day, if you argue that Bruce's no-killing rule (Batman's core tenet) has no meaning because it's being used to create drama for money... you could argue the exact same thing about many other traits and DC characters, unfortunately. Just pick a story and follow the thread. For example, something similar could be said about the recent Gotham War arc; maybe DC went "Oh, Batman cares about his Family and he struggles with his darker side? Smash those two together and rake in the cash! Let's make them all fight each other! Sure, we did this a bajillion times already, but this time..."

Anyway. I'll stop rambling, but you get my drift. Unfortunately, as comic fans (and not only), we live in a reality in which most of the time, money is the very real Doylist motivator. But we can't only be Doylists, it's impossible (and way too bleak); we've got to be Watsonian too. Take the story as it is, and create meaning. Even when there might be little intended, or perhaps especially then-- through the transformative power of our own interpretations. Or at least, that's how I see it.

#this got long. idk if I even really addressed your point that well #but I hope it was an interesting read!#asks #joker #fandom negativity

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ghostly-penumbra · 1 year

Text

Seven Ways to Summon the Ghost King

Chapter Four: Ask for it

[1] [2] [3] [here] [5] [6] [7]

Ao3

Summary: Jason needs help.

Warning: Lenghty talk about death: dying, not dying, nearly almost dying but not quite (lol), Coming Back from death Wrong, wanting to die for real... these boys have a lot of matching baggage to unpack. Ah, yes, and some blood and violence.

- - -

Red Hood stumbled and fell to the floor of the bucolic apartment in the abandoned building that he had taken for a safe-house. His leg was bleeding out where he had spitefully shot himself to get rid of the tracker Batman had tried to stick in him, losing a gun holster in the process.

Fucking controlling, hypocritical asshole.

He growled and pushed himself up with his arms and crawled over to his medical kit, barely mindful of his injury.

Taking off his helmet, Jason breathed in deeply and proceeded to patch himself up.

He shouldn’t have done that, it wasn’t worth the trouble. He could have just picked it and thrown it away, but fuck, had he been mad when he saw Batman trying to be sneaky and find his main base. If Bruce actually cared to know his whereabouts then Batman better kill that fucking clown.

Deep breath. Eight seconds in, four out. Repeat.

Jason had been having some issues in controlling his anger, lately. It used to be a conscious choice he made, tapping into that ever-present rage so he could do what needed to be done. To not think twice as he pulled the trigger, to take all these heads in a duffle bag and present them in a dingy warehouse. To put a knife to his brother’s replacement’s throat. Every time he faced his family Batman, he had to be angry, had to be furious.

Otherwise he would break and cave in.

Deep breath. Eight seconds in. Four out.

The Joker loomed over him, swinging the crowbar over, and over, and over again.

The green waters scalded his lungs, his throat, flowing like hellfire in his veins as it tore his soul from its rightful resting place and back into the pain, disappointment and heartbreak of life.

The Batman jumping from rooftop to rooftop, followed closely by a second, smaller figure with a bo-staff.

Someone far richer smarter and overall better than him, who wasn’t a violent, reckless, ruthless street urchin.

Bruce didn’t miss him, didn’t want him, didn’t need him, and had replaced him.

Jason’s dad didn’t love him.

A pained cry tore from his throat as his leg gave out and Red Hood hit the ground with a thud. Jason panted in ragged breaths and, too slowly, took stock of the situation. He only knew he had been standing because he had fallen, and now his wound was open again, bleeding through the disarranged bandages, his hands hurt and when he looked at them, Jason found the skin of his knuckles open and stained red. He had a few hairs tangled on his fingers and when he touched his head his scalp hurt. He had been pulling at his hair.

“Shit.” He looked around, and his room’s condition almost made him despair. “Fuck.”

The place was pure havoc, as if a hurricane had tried to escape it. His sheets and mattress were torn to pieces, and since his knife was still strapped to his thigh, he could only assume he had done it with his bare hands; the plain table he used as a desk had been broken in the middle, and a pang in his ankle told him how; the contents of his first-aid kit were thrown around, most of them broken and useless; even his books hadn’t been spared, and now that hurt, they were just a handful of cheap copies but they were his books, his only escape from the shit of a life he had chosen and-

Jason grit his teeth and held back a sob. He reached out and picked up the torn pages he had shredded.

“… told the girls what an honour they might expect, adding:

“I may thank you, Eliza, for this piece of civility. Mr. Darcy would never have come so soon to wait upon me.”

Elizabeth had scarcely time to disclaim all right to the compliment, before their approach was announced by the door-bell, and shortly afterwards the three gentlemen entered the room. Colonel Fitzwilliam, who led the way”

The worst part for him was that he didn’t remember a thing. He had had episodes of blind rage before, he knew the drill, how he felt, how he acted when his reasoning quieted and his anger rose, what he was willing to lose, who he was willing to hurt. He knew all that because he remembered.

Now, though, he couldn’t even remember feeling the pain.

One second he was sitting down and the next he was falling in a heap of himself.

“Deep… breaths…” Eight seconds in. Four out. “Fuck!”

He couldn’t go on like this. If no one could tell him what to do, then he had to keep himself in check. He knew that from the beginning, when he took up the hood.

There were lines no one should cross. If he caused permanent harm to an innocent … who was to say he wouldn’t turn into- into-

"I-" The lump in his throat didn't want to let the words out, but he forced them, forced himself to acknowledge them, to see their truth, "I need help."

He must have blacked out again, just for a second this time, because he was in the same position but now there was a guy picking him up, with Jason's arm thrown over his shoulders and his other hand firmly on his side.

"It's okay, take it easy, man, I'm here, I got ya." He put Jason back on his bed and propped him against the headboard. The stranger placed him on the less torn part of the mattress, and lifted his bleeding leg with a gentle care he hadn't known in a while.

Jason finally got a good look at him, and if his head hadn't been so clear in that moment (in a way it hadn't been in years), he may have confused him for another one of Bruce's kids, maybe even another biological one. Black hair, icy blue eyes, and a fit body that could be hidden under baggy clothes.

"Oof, that looks awful, let me patch you up first." The stranger said, and proceeded to pick up Jason's broken medical aids and go into the small, crappy bathroom where you could touch the door from the toilet. Judging from the sound of running water from the faucet, he was washing the tools and- ah, yeah, he had picked the surviving bottle of alcohol and was sterilizing them too. Good.

Jason closed his eyes for a second only to open them again with a jolt. Something had happened, he knew it, but he couldn't tell what, just that- just that it wasn't bad. But how…?

"This is gonna hurt but you can handle it, right?" Asked the stranger, back at the bedside with what was left of Jason’s medical kit.

He nodded without a word and watched as the stranger sat down at the edge of the bed, uncaring for the mangled mattress and its blood-stains. The stranger finished tearing Jason's ruined pant-leg after undoing the botched bandaging job, cleaning both the dry and fresh blood with a wet wipe to start the aforementioned patching up.

"What are you?" He asked finally, gripping a piece of fitted-sheet in one hand to hold back cries of pain.

"What are you." The stranger shot back, unflinching.

"How did you get here?" He tried, then.

"You called, and I answered." The stranger looked at him steadily. Something was afoot.

Jason thought about it, as the stranger resumed his quite clean and quick bandaging.

"This isn't exactly the help I meant.” Said Jason, raising an eyebrow as he stared him down.

"Yeah, I know, and we'll get there. But first I wanted to take care of this." When Jason was about to object and tell him to just get to the point, the stranger held up a hand and closed his eyes. "Just let me do this. I need to make sure you're okay, please."

"Hm. Alright then." He said before he leaned back on the headboard and crossed his arms, mindful of his knuckles. "But you owe me answers. All of them. For starters, if you won't tell me what you are, or why I feel so at ease with a complete stranger that appeared out of nowhere and who now knows my face, then you could at least tell me your name."

"Oh, but you already know my name." The stranger looked him in the eye for a second and Jason felt a familiar, comforting cold wash over him.

The stranger started checking his other leg, palming it gently, and Jason interrupted him. "That one is okay. Just sore."

The other man nodded and stood up. "I'll get some more clean water for your knuckles."

Jason watched him go, pensive. Already knew his name… was it possible that he-?

But before he could even fully have that thought, he already knew the answer. No. This guy wasn't Death, he knew that in his soul. But if not that, then…

"How do you plan to help me, Danny?"

Danny came back with a new bowl of clean water —actually clean, not cleanish, not clean-for-Gotham, clean— and white bandages that Jason knew hadn't been there before.

"Well, I know this is gonna sound cheesy, but it's not so much of 'what can I do for you' and more of a 'how can I help you help yourself'." He started as he cleaned Jason's blood from his hands. "You won't owe me a thing for this, nothing at all. But there is a price to pay, a sacrifice to make. It's… the truth you don't want to accept." Danny finished with his hands and gently put them back on Jason's lap. He looked him in the eyes once again, sad, supportive, and regretful all at once. "You are dead, Jason Todd."

"Fuck off." Jason said with no heat. His throat suddenly felt very dry. He wished he could be angry at Danny for saying that, or for the calm way he fully climbed on the bed and crossed his legs across from him, but he didn't. "I got better, I came back, I'm alive."

"Yeah." Danny concedes easily. "That doesn't mean you're not dead."

"You can't be both alive and dead."

"Most people can't, but we can."

In a broken whisper, Jason said, "I'm not dead."

"I know you don't want to accept it, because everything it entails is terrifying, but you are dead, and you're hurting yourself by denying it." Any easy-going-ness in his voice had left, replaced by icy resolve.

"The fuck are you talking about? How is being alive bad for me? What, you want me to blow myself up all over again and move on?"

With a great deal of patience, Danny ignored Jason's scathing words but answered him nonetheless.

"No. You've already died, no need to go at it again. What you need to do is accept the part of you that didn't get resurrected, because it exists in you, and you trying to repress it is what causes your anger issues."

Jason looked at him sharply, but Danny didn't take the unspoken cue, and instead waited for Jason to finally, willingly (albeit still reluctantly), broach the topic himself.

"You think that's connected to the Pit Madness, which you somehow know about because…"

"You called for help, with real intent, and I answered," he explained, "I needed to know something so I could start helping you, so I kind of just, knew." He looked more human as he shrugged his shoulders awkwardly, and Jason felt himself relax for real this time, not because of some otherworldly influence, despite the implications of what he had just been told.

"Yeah, sure, whatever." Jason sighed and closed his eyes. "Alright, go ahead, tell me how to get rid of the Pit Madness. Stop beating around the bush."

"Okay, so: when you resurrected it most likely was against your will, especially if you didn't even know it could be done, so what's the first thing you felt?"

Every atom in his body screamed in pain as he broke the surface of the water with a scream of horror, in a dark cave surrounded by unknown people.

"Fear." He admitted, and saw his guest nod knowingly.

"And then?"

“I was alone and away from home, with people after me but no one to come and save me.”

“So you had to survive, and be smart about it; you can’t be rational if you’re always scared.” Jason nodded at him. “What then?”

“I managed to escape and smuggle myself back to the States, to get back home and-” he folded his good leg to rest his chin on his knee, closing his eyes for a moment before soldiering on, “and I found out that my fucking killer was still alive, continuing his fucking reign of horror with no repercussions! I was so fucking mad…” He was startled out of his rant by Danny laying a hand on his shoulder.

He hadn’t felt him move. His ratty and torn mattress hadn’t squeaked with the change in weight. He wasn’t even surprised at this point.

“You were so heartbroken that you hadn’t been avenged, that your mentor –your father– had chosen peace, over justice, over you.”

Tears started to flow freely down his face. Jason didn’t snap back, didn’t push Danny away so he couldn’t see him being weak, exposed, vulnerable. He just let himself be seen, and be grounded by that point of contact.

“I finally came home, and he was fine. He had replaced me with someone better, someone smarter and better behaved, from his own world, and not some… some street urchin! Argh!” He pulled at his hair in frustration, but stopped when his scalp hurt. He looked at Danny again. “How are you doing that?”

“Doing wh-? Oh! Oh, yeah, the whole ‘calm’ thing. Well, I’m immune to the… what was it? Pit Madness, pit, pit, pit, pit- Lazarus Pit- Lazarus Water! Man, the names people give it. Yep, I’m immune to the Lazarus Water, so as long as I’m here –and I demand it–” he mumbled to himself, even though he was pretty much shoulder to shoulder with Jason, ”the Pit Madness has no power, at all.”

Jason sucked in a sharp breath. This… this was himself? When there was no madness-fueled rage to have the biggest input on his actions, or to tint his vision of things red. It felt good. It felt really fucking good; perhaps not right now specifically, with the whole ‘baring your soul to a virtual stranger’ thing, but maybe in a mission when the correct course of action was ‘don’t kill them all’…

“I couldn’t stand it. Everything was better for everyone now that I was dead. I had just been a bump on the road, a footnote between ‘The Original Robin and the Smart Robin’, a cautionary tale. So I had to prove them wrong.” He grimaced, remembering how he had gone about it. (Oh, so the brutal beat up he gave Tim had been the Pit talking. He was a bit dubious about that one.)

“You couldn’t stay heartbroken or in despair, but you also couldn’t muster up hope to make you move.”

“And I chose to be angry so they wouldn’t see me being sad, I know, I’m emotionally constipated.” Jason grunted out, frustrated with himself.

"You chose to be angry, and allowed the Pit Madness to finally take root, but you still didn't accept your dead side, so it hasn't gotten out of your system."

"... say what now."

"What you know as Lazarus Waters, for me is a form of contaminated ectoplasm. Ectoplasm is the matter that gives ghosts corporeal forms and different ways to interact with the living world." Giving no explanation on what these 'interactions' entailed, Danny continued. "It can give 'life' back to the dead, and sometimes sapience. It can't naturally bring the dead back to life, but with time, dedication, and magic, I can see it being manipulated to do so.

“I don't know exactly why it worked the way it did on you, when others have been resurrected this way before; because even if it did bring you back, it didn't bring you fully alive, ‘cause if that was the case then you wouldn't be dealing with anger issues, you would have completely lost your mind and been nothing more than a mindless, rage-filled machine with the training of the Batman, up for the grabbing for any psychic or anyone with the minimum knowledge of mental conditioning. Trust me when I tell you this: being half dead comes as a blessing when someone brainwashes one half of you, because you can still escape through the other half."

"... so that's why you want me to accept being dead."

Danny rubbed at his temples. "Not exactly; that's just one of the things that would be different if you weren't dead, which you are, and I'm glad to see you coming to terms with it; my sales pitch isn't as bad as I feared, then. I'm not saying that if you refuse your dead, ghostly side that you're gonna go insane. The fact that you even have sanity proves that you have a ghostly side. Despite the secondary effects.”

"Well, don't count your eggs just yet, I'm not convinced being dead is a good thing yet. I want more info first, and you promised I would get it."

Danny nodded. "Yeah, you're right. It's not nothing what I'm asking of you. I know that.

"Okay so, when you were brought back, it was half alive and half dead; under other circumstances, that would just end up killing you shortly after, or left you like a 'frail of health Victorian child, bedridden for the rest of however long you lived', or it would have simply shortened your lifespan, since there was magic at play. But it wasn't just any circumstance. It was a pit of gross, stale ectoplasm that strengthened your dead half to create your ghost and attach it to you, I mean your soul —same difference—, along with the Pit Madness.

"If you hadn't repressed it," Danny continued, "the ectoplasm flowing through your body woulda just been processed and replaced, even if you weren't near a strong concentration of ambient ectoplasm. Any type of spiritual energy would've done it. Heck, you only needed to hang out at a cemetery and your ghost half would have been fine.

"But, since you did and are still repressing it, that same stale ectoplasm that stayed with you when it brought you back is still within you, ten years later, which, I told you I wasn't gonna lie, to me, that old ectoplasm is extremely gross to me. Like, I grew up knowing you have to clean and filter ectoplasm just for industrial use, now organic, yikes! It's like, like your blood was all clogged and you weren't producing any new red cells so your body still needed and used that rotten blood and you were up and about on your day with that flowing through your veins. Ugh!" Danny shuddered with a disgusted grimace, and Jason didn't know if he should feel insulted or not.

"Um… ew?" He lamely settled on.

"Yes, ew. I say this in the best, most tactful way possible, but I'm glad to be dead and proud if I don't have to be like that."

"Wow, that was mean."

"It had to be said."

"Did it though?" Jason said, doing his best impression of Alfie’s unimpressed eyebrow lift.

"Yeah, it did."

"I don't think so, no."

"Oh, but I do, I do believe it."

Both men looked at each other face to face for a long few seconds, and proceeded to break down in an undignified fit of giggles that shook their shoulders and had them doubling over once it became full-on laughter.

"You- you're an ass!" Jason accused him in between panting breaths, shoving at Danny's shoulder with his own.

"Pft, I'm known to have my moments, but you wanted the truth and that's it! You stink!" Danny said, and returned the shove in kind with his own. Knowing they didn't actually need to breathe, he hadn't gotten winded up.

They kept on chuckling for a few more minutes, until they both calmed down and enjoyed the silence some more.

“It wasn’t that funny.” Jason told him at last.

“I know.”

They were both smiling anyway.

Danny sobered up, straightening his hunched back, and Jason followed suit. There was still stuff to talk about.

“The ectoplasm in your body can’t be cleaned but it still needs sustenance; if not ectoplasm, spiritual energy, if not energy, then emotions will have to do. But if you shove it down and push it away, it’ll have nothing to latch on to get cleansed. Nothing but itself. So it feeds on the same anger it creates, making it stronger and stronger even as it still tries to be processed out of your body. That’s what makes you mad at the slightest provocation, gives you destructive –and self-destructive– tendencies. It’s why these things are happening more and more often, why you can” he gestured around them with a hand, “black out and wreck shit up without feeling a thing.”

“… will it hurt? If I do it?”

“Yes.” Danny said honestly. “The first time it catches you by surprise, how much it feels like dying all over again, just like the first time. You feel like you won’t come back this time; if you panic like I did, you start losing the perception of yourself, and it feels like you’re dissolving into nothing. When you come back, you enjoy how hard your heart is beating in your ears, how every open-mouthed breath burns your throat as it goes to your lungs. How you can dig your fingers on the hard soil and thump your forehead on the ground. It all feels wonderful, because it shows you are alive, you feel, and you never want to go through that again.

“The second time you do it,” Danny continued, “it feels like holding your breath, only to realize you don’t need air anymore, and if you look around, for a second you get to see why they are the living. How they shine like stars in a clear night sky, how amazing it is, every little blink of theirs, and how the trees breathe and rustle their leaves, the singing of the birds. You never see everything so alive and so bright until you see it with your own dead eyes.” Danny had a faraway look, and Jason felt like he could catch up to that memory if he tried. “And when you come back, you realize it doesn’t matter whether you need it or not, it’s amazing to breathe, to eel the essence of life be part of you. It’s overwhelming, it’s not enough. It humbles you, it elevates you…

“From the third time on, every time you do it feels like taking off a piece of clothing in a hot summer day, and every time you return it’s like putting on a warm coat in a cold winter. It’s not a bad thing, either way. You get the best of both worlds.” He finished with a cheeky smirk.

“Hmm. Do you ever regret it? Or want it to go back?”

Danny took a second to think about it.

“I used to. Back when it had just happened. I thought I was a freak and a monster, and sometimes, I even thought it would have been better if I had finished dying all the way,” Danny admitted softly, and Jason moved to lean his shoulder against Danny’s own, to offer something to ground him, to tell him that it was good he hadn’t finished dying, “I haven’t felt like that in a long while” Danny continued, leaning back on Jason, “and if I actually got the offer of going back and undoing it all so I could live a normal full-life, I wouldn’t take it.” He smiled softly. “I like the person I’ve become. What I am made me who I am today.

“Sure, I’m not saying it’s ‘great!’ I died in a horrific accident just ‘cause it made me grow as a person, that part was awful. Or that dying made me better. What I mean is that maybe I would have been alright if it hadn’t happened. But it did, and I’m finally fine with it.”

Jason processed all of that. Slowly, but surely, he did.

“I still have so many questions.” Jason admitted.

“And I’ll try to have as many answers.”

Danny rested his hand on his thigh, palm up, inviting, unhurried.

Jason took it.

#Danny Phantom #DC Comics #Danny Fenton #Red Hood #dpxdc #ghostly-scrypts #Jason Peter Todd #long post #ghost king au #ghost king danny #though it's not mentioned #a different kind of summoning #more like a cry for help

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