cinnamongrl2006

[cinnamongrl2006]

tumblrinas, it seems like every other week we’re having the “there’s not enough fluff and angst” argument on here. i’ve said it once and it looks like i’m gonna have to say it again; that is and has always been on you guys.

you can’t keep blaming smut fics nor smut writers for the lack fluff and angst fics because you guys are constantly paying them dust! both the fics and the people that write them. and the reason why you’re not seeing non-smut fics as much as you’d like? that’s simply because the writers in our community are tired of putting their time, hearts, and souls into their work just for it to reach a solid 100 notes by the end of the week. notes do matter, people actually like feedback. validation feels good wether you’d like to admit it or not. and if you want these fics to stay around, you all better start acting like it.

[cinnamongrl2006]

My favorite nerd in every universe

[cinnamongrl2006]

I need him, I fear 😩😩

christian bale at the premiere for the prestige in 2006.

WE DON’T TALK ABOUT THIS LOOK ENOUGH!!

[cinnamongrl2006]

HI GUYS!! I have seen the new influx of requests and praise on my work and all i have to say is THANK YOUUU🤧🫶🏻 I will get to work on all my drafts and requests when i het home, I’m on holiday in thailand now.

[cinnamongrl2006]

reblogging this now that more people follow me

୨୧ Patrick Bateman sketch because I love Christian Bale ୨୧

[cinnamongrl2006]

guys I knowww I’ve been inactive for a while but don’t forget me 🤧🤧 I’m here, alive and well and with a LOT on my plate rn!!!

[cinnamongrl2006]

new theme is so beautiful :0

omgomgomg thank youuuu!!! Had to change it since IM BACK HOES! (intermittently, because life is kind of hard right now. Possible karma from a past life?)

[cinnamongrl2006]

Jason Todd as        ARKHAM KNIGHT

[cinnamongrl2006]

watched the new superman movie the other day, WOW GUYS. Just saying clark kent content might be coming to your screens SOON

[cinnamongrl2006]

self reblog because this was really fun n cute

Bruce's controversially young girlfriend meeting Dick for the first time

a/n: I need to be his controversially young girlfriend, it's not funny anymore, BRUCE WAYNE WHERE ARE YOU I AM A LEGAL ADULT. Also, stole the sparkly divider from my lovely moot @laceyfaeryy, oops. cw: age gap, female reader

The soft glow of the afternoon sun filtered through the wide living room windows, slowly lulling you to sleep. You were no longer paying attention to the TV, your legs draped over the couch armrest.

Your eyelids were already drooping, your mind slipping in and out of consciousness, when you heard the front door open and close. Alfred greeted someone, and a young man's voice called out, “Hey, B! I think last night’s girl forgot her heels—” followed by a light chuckle.

You stirred awake as he waltzed into the living room, talking loudly, as if he owned the place.

“Oh. I was not aware Bruce had company. Does he know you’re here?” Dick asked, his eyebrows knit in confusion. “Richard Grayson, by the way.” He stretched a hand out to you, smirking.

“Well, he should know, because I live here,” you replied with a playful smile, taking his hand. “Nice to meet you, Dick. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Dick blinked at your response, his smirk fading as his brow furrowed further. “You live here?” he echoed, his tone betraying just how strange he found that idea. His eyes flitted over you again, confused.

“Wait… are you the new Robin? Where's Damian?”

You froze for a moment, completely blindsided by the question. “The what?” you asked, your voice sharp with confusion as you stared at him.

“Robin,” Dick repeated, gesturing vaguely toward you. “You know, sidekick, junior partner, running around in the middle of the night with a cape and a mask?” His words came out in a rush, almost like he was trying to make sense of the situation as he spoke. “I mean, I thought Bruce was done with the whole child sidekick thing after Damian, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised."

You blinked at him, baffled. “No,” you said firmly. “I’m not a Robin. I don’t—what? I’m not running around Gotham in a cape, okay?”

Before Dick could respond, Bruce's footsteps echoed down the stairs and along the hallway. As soon as he opened the door, you were already on your feet, running toward him and launching yourself into his arms.

“Bruce!” you exclaimed, a bright smile lighting up your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Bruce caught you effortlessly, his strong hands gripping your waist as he lifted you slightly off the ground.

“Missed you,” you murmured, burying your face against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of him—fresh and comforting, with a hint of leather. Home.

“I wasn’t gone that long,” he replied, his voice low and steady, but there was a softness in his tone that made your heart flutter.

“Long enough for me to get bored. I almost fell asleep waiting before Dick walked in. You didn’t tell me he was visiting; I would have made dinner reservations!” you frowned, crossing your arms playfully as you looked up at Bruce.

He chuckled softly, a smile tugging at his lips. “I didn’t think you’d mind a surprise visitor. Besides, I didn’t know he was stopping by until he showed up.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile broke through your mock annoyance. The unexpected arrival of Dick had thrown a small wrench in the afternoon, but the bright sunlight streaming through the large windows warmed the room, and the spring air made even unexpected company feel right.

As you leaned against the plush couch, Bruce moved closer, exuding an effortless confidence. The afternoon sun highlighted the sharp lines of his jaw and the tousled dark hair that fell slightly over his forehead. When he looked at you, his gaze was soft, as if he was wholly focused on you. Your fingers pushed the stray hairs away from his eyes that dropped closed, long lashes brushing his cheekbones.

With a small sigh, Dick finally spoke up, “Alright, I’ll give you both some space.”

You untangled yourself from Bruce's embrace, "Wait, Dick! Are you staying for dinner?"

────୨ৎ────

tags: @laceyfaeryy @cherrycolaheartss @resting-confused-face

(if you want to be added to my taglist plsss comment it!)

[cinnamongrl2006]

my mutuals r the best, i know, i know

𐔌 ⋮ “What kore means”

For my princess Kore!! A late birthday gist (by an hour!) I love you!!

Themes: Birthday, fluff, identity, emotional intimacy, soft Jason

Jason Todd is not a man known for softness.

Not unless you count the kind that comes after bullets. The kind that leaks out in the hush between chaos — in the cool touch of leather gloves smoothing down trembling shoulders, in half-grunted reassurances when someone’s been saved just in time.

But today, he’s all softness.

Because today is your birthday.

You’re not expecting anything big. You’d told him that yourself, multiple times.

“I’m serious, Jason. No skywriting. No explosions. No guns disguised as flower vases.”

He’d smirked. “So just one gun disguised as a flower vase. Got it.”

You’d hit him in the chest with a pillow for that one.

But you should’ve known — really — that Jason Todd doesn’t know how to half-love anything.

So when you wake up to the smell of strong coffee and cardamom, and the sound of something jazz-like humming from the old record player you rescued from a Gotham antique shop… you already know he’s up to something.

You shuffle down the hall barefoot, hair a mess, sweater stolen from his side of the closet. You’re expecting chaos. Maybe a pile of books arranged in the shape of a cake, or your name spelled in handguns.

But instead—

The apartment is warm. Candles lit, gently flickering. The coffee’s already poured. And Jason is standing there like something out of a dream — in a black shirt rolled at the sleeves, two mugs in hand, and that stupid boyish grin that always gets you in trouble.

“Happy birthday, Kore.”

You smile. “Jason… what did you do?”

“Why do you say it like that?”

“Because I know you.”

“Fair.”

He hands you the mug. It’s your favorite blend — Turkish style, just like you taught him, a little sweet but strong. You sip and nearly melt.

Then, he gestures to the couch, where a single envelope rests against a wrapped box.

You tilt your head. “No explosions?”

“Not yet,” he smirks. “That’s for later. Come on.”

You sit. He watches you, arms crossed, leaning on the counter with an almost shy anticipation you rarely see from him. Not when he’s Red Hood. But right now, he’s just Jason. Just yours.

You open the envelope first.

Inside is a card, hand-cut and slightly uneven — meaning he made it himself. Your heart does a weird flip.

You read:

“To Kore —

I know you said not to make a big deal out of today, but here’s the thing:

I don’t do halfway. And you’re not a halfway kind of girl.”

“You’ve been in my life long enough to know that I’m not always… eloquent. But there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. Something about your name.”

You pause.

Jason shifts a little — nervous.

“You once told me you didn’t know what your name meant. That your parents just liked the sound. But I looked it up. And I found something.”

You glance up at him. “Jason…”

“Keep reading,” he says, voice rough.

“Kore… is an ancient Greek word. It means ‘maiden.’ But not just that.”

“It’s also another name for Persephone.”

“The goddess who split her time between life and death. Spring and shadow. A girl who bloomed in the underworld. Who belonged to no one but herself.”

“And I realized — that’s you. You are softness and steel. You are warmth in the cold. You’re rebirth. Survival. You’re myth and mortal all at once.”

You stop breathing.

He watches you like he’s trying to memorize your reaction.

You swallow, throat tight.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is…

You’re not just beautiful.

You’re the reason anything grows.”

A long silence.

Then—

You blink rapidly. “Jason.”

He clears his throat, walking over slowly, hands tucked in his pockets. He crouches in front of you and rests one hand on your knee.

“I meant every word,” he says, eyes deep and stormy. “You’re the only thing in this world that makes the dark feel worth it.”

You’re crying now. Just a little. Just enough.

He presses a kiss to your temple, slow and reverent.

“Open the box,” he murmurs.

With shaking fingers, you unwrap the gift. Inside is a small pendant on a thin gold chain.

A pomegranate — delicate, carved, with a tiny red stone nestled at its center.

You laugh wetly. “You—”

“You’re my Persephone,” he says softly. “You always have been.”

You don’t even think before you throw your arms around him, coffee forgotten on the table, lips pressing against his in a slow, grateful kiss.

He hums against you — low, grounding — and lets you straddle his lap on the floor, because neither of you cares about dignity when it comes to each other.

His fingers curl into your hair.

And for a moment, the world stills.

Just breath. Just skin. Just the steady thump of a boy who once clawed his way back to life — and the girl who gave him something to live for.

When you pull back, your nose brushes his. Your smile is wet and bright and full.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He grins, kisses your cheek. “You like it?”

“I love it. I love you.”

He exhales. Like the words touch something deep.

Then, leaning in, voice husky:

“Good. Because I’m keeping you. Forever.”

Later, after you’ve curled into his chest and forced him to watch Howl’s Moving Castle for the seventh time (he secretly loves it), Jason whispers against your ear:

“I like the curls.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Your hair,” he says, fingers threading through the soft spirals. “All wild and Greek goddess-y. Makes me feel like some ancient hero.”

You snort. “You are so dramatic.”

He shrugs. “What can I say? You inspire poetry.”

You roll your eyes.

But you don’t stop smiling.

Not for the rest of the night.

Taglist🏷️: @simpingmyassoff @shootingstargirl2001 , @dreamerwhofell , @gothamwing , @amiratheangel , @dreamerwhofell , @virtaideen , @asterwriter221 , @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore (if you want to be added comment down below!!)

A/N: this is my first time writing for J.Tood…what do y’all think??? What does the birthday girl @petalbcrnes think?

[cinnamongrl2006]

new themeeee inspired by Oasis being back (and an inevitable britpop renaissance)!! I USED TO PRAY FOR TIMES LIKE THESE 😩

[cinnamongrl2006]

life is genuinely beating me up BUT i have an almost done bruce fic in drafts and tonnsss of other shit to write!! I MISS ALL OF U BADDIES 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

if u get a ★ in ur inbox it means ur moot appreciates u, and ur efforts in the community. send this to 10 mutuals to continue the love !!

omg stop a hypothetical tear just rolled down my cheek miss you queenie

[cinnamongrl2006]

if u get a ★ in ur inbox it means ur moot appreciates u, and ur efforts in the community. send this to 10 mutuals to continue the love !!

ahh didn't see this omgomg so cute!

[cinnamongrl2006]

I AM ACTIVE AGAIN VIIII!!! THE WAIT IS OVER I AM BACK 😝😝

VII YOUR NEW THEME IS SOOO TEAAAA

ANNIIEEE I MISSED YEWWW GHANK YOU AAA

[cinnamongrl2006]

HELLO?? 700 people is wild 😭 I love you all

this is what 700 ppl in a room look like, wowzas

[cinnamongrl2006]

my mutuals are all talented divas, what can I say?

the rain isn’t heavy yet. just a fine, needling drizzle, slicking the pavement and halo the streetlamps in a pale, watery gold. the man steps out first, black umbrella in hand, collar turned up against the wind—and circles to the other side of the car. his boots make barely any sound on the wet cobblestone. a gloved hand finds the door handle. pauses. a single breath held between decades.

and the door swings open.

BRUCE WAYNE is the one holding it now.

he’s older than thomas wayne ever was. broader in the shoulders, heavier set in the eyes. the lines around his mouth are deeper when he smiles, but tonight he does smile, soft and understated, as you step out of the limo.

“got her?”

you nod. their daughter—your daughter—stirs faintly in your arms. her small fists tighten in the fabric of your coat.

the umbrella tilts to cover all three of of you.

then, unbidden: a ripple in the dark.

the other side of the limo. the sheen of his mother’s stockings as she stepped out, clutching her purse in one hand and a boy in the other. her laugh fogging in the cold air, visible in white puffs of breath. a younger version of bruce tucked under her chin, his gaze fixed on the string of peals that sit above her dainty collarbone. his father steady behind them both—gloved hand holding the door open.

it’s not the same. yet it is the same.

the image folds itself into the present—the car door shuts. his arm slips around your waist as the driver pulls away from the curb in silence. no words pass between you. he presses his lips to your temple, thumb stroking the curve of your cheekbone. nestled safely between her parents, the infant lets out a soft sigh of content.

for the first time in years, bruce doesn’t feel like he’s chasing ghosts. he’s living the answer.