sorawritesstuff

[sorawritesstuff]

love language

i came across a quiz the other day. what's your love language? the question asked in grey font, bold san serif against a light pink background,

that was easy. physical touch, no doubt.

i am a physical person, quick to hug, even quicker to kiss. where my hands linger, my heart bleeds through fingertips; i am soft and warm and curved under palms. friends know my presence through the subtle brush of my hips, a head on their shoulder, arms linked between.

but my finger hovers over the mouse, waiting to click.

am i not a person of words? sometimes too little, more often too many? i have never known a friend who i do not call by some endearment or another, never known a birthday card or a love letter that goes unread. my friends know i am the first person to scream 'gorgeous' at them in all caps.

then those words come with actions, as my mother has taught me.

i would stay up til 4am to read your texts, fold paper into mini origami hearts to tuck into your bookbag in between classes. servitude does not come easily to me by nature (i am a pink pilates princess in every sense of the phrase) and yet i would make you a spotify playlist in less than a heartbeat.

do those count as gifts? i love gifts.

gifting, receiving; christmas has always been my favourite holiday of the year. what is only better than unboxing a much coveted pair of heels is watching my friend's face light up as she does hers. generousity is not a fault in which i find myself lacking; to be rich is to give as freely as one gets.

but if there are gifts, then there are the gifts of time.

there is nothing i love more than spending a day at the mall with a horde of friends, giggling and laughing and gossiping about every person we know. there is nothing that compares to getting boba after and flirting with cashiers and living in the moment, because time is short and life is to love.

what is your love language? the question repeats, and i pause.

would it be too much to say love itself?

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dick: so, how are you and jason getting along?

y/n: oh, we're not dating anymore.

jason: *bursting into the room* NO WE'RE MARRIED

[sorawritesstuff]

every duo consists of a jason todd simp and a dick grayson simp. sorry i dont make the rules (im the jason simp btw)

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Tim Drake has a hatred for Sherlock Holmes, has he ever read the books? No but his dad used to insultingly call him Sherlock as a kid when he was being too nosy or curious and now even when people say it as a compliment it just irks him

Jason being the resident classic literature nerd is dead set on at least having Tim read the books so he can either A. Actually like the books and accept that Sherlock is actually a pretty cool guy to be compared too, or B. Give actual tasteful criticism and insults based on the contents of the book

Jason could care less which happens he’s just tired of Tim ranting about his hatred for Sherlock despite not knowing a thing about Sherlock

——

Tim: Sherlock this, Sherlock that, I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that stupid hat

Jason: The hat really isn’t even mentioned in the books, You’d know if you read them

Tim: I’m not reading them, they really can’t be that good in fact Sherlock was so bad even his literal creator wanted nothing to do with him

Jason: Your dad wanted nothing to do with you and you’re still a pretty good detective

*Cue Dick yelling at Jason cause “that wasn’t nice”

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brothers, amirite

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batcave records:

patient name: damian wayne

injury: concussion

cause of injury: was hit in the head by a heavy jane austen book

~

patient name: jason todd

injury: pulled muscle

cause of injury: throwing pride and prejudice at the head of the batbrat snooping through his things

~

patient name: y/n

injury: none, but complains of shortness of breath and stomach pain

cause of injury: laughing too hard

[sorawritesstuff]

oh to be friends to lovers w dick grayson,,,

[sorawritesstuff]

Listen to me. Change the narrative. Keep writing your own story. You got this. Just keep going.

[sorawritesstuff]

the struggle of deciding if i’d rather hang out with Bruce “when i was your age..” Wayne or Dick “well, in the circus..” Grayson

[sorawritesstuff]

red hood more like red pls-ride-me hood

[sorawritesstuff]

𝙸 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚈𝚘𝚞, 𝙼𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝙰𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢

Chapter One

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.

Well, good thing times had changed, because if Jason had to choose a wife from the people he knew, he’d be dead. A second time.

None of the Batfamily were at all viable options; Cass maybe came closest, but he’d probably pass out on all the karaoke dates Steph was sure to drag him on. Out of the Outlaws, Kori was far too optimistic for real life, and Artemis, well, he’d already messed up with her enough. There wasn’t anyone outside of vigilante work that he knew well enough to even consider briefly—to put it gently, Jason wasn’t exactly the best at making friends. He could probably marry Roy, but then that wouldn’t be a wife, right? Or maybe a malewife counted? 

Whatever. It wasn’t like he had to marry anyone just cause Austen said so. And even if he did, at least no one could be worse than her. 

Her, erroneously labeled “Charmer”, in her all bright, bubbly glory. All that sparkly white kevlar and disgusting optimism and playful dalliance and—well, he didn’t actually know what she looked like under that eye-searingly pink mask she always wore, but he bet she would be knockout gorgeous just to piss him off, too. 

Oh, what an absolute pain. Apparently fate was simply determined that anyone by the name Jason Todd could never catch a single break. As if dying wasn’t already enough. 

He’d known from the moment she sauntered into Arkham Asylum with a glossy smile and a swing of her hips that she would be the end of him. The second one, anyway. If he wasn’t stupid as well as foolhardy, Jason would have said he’d take a couple bullets instead of spend another minute in her presence.

Yeah.

Batman had brought her on the case for her…emotional prowess at dealing with interrogations, since the latest addition to the Rogues Gallery at the time had been a new unknown villain named The Sphinx. As if Jason wasn’t good at getting information out of criminals? He smelled B.S. 

“You don’t have any technique for it,” Bruce had explained flatly, eyes on the monitor screen in front of him.

“Sure I do,” Jason had retorted with crossed arms. “I implement the technique of punching until they talk, or don’t have teeth left.” 

His mentor figure had grunted in response. 

At least that was over and done with. It’d been a couple months ago, and now that Sphinx whoever was safely in the Arkham Asylum (not that anyone ever stayed there long), Charmer was well out of the picture and he finally regained whatever shred of peace he had in his pastiche of a second life. 

It wasn’t much, but Jason knew just how hideously life could treat him firsthand. For now, he’d be content with the crappy patch up job he’d received. 

At any rate, if you looked at things the way Steph might—optimistically, that was—things weren’t all bad. The Joker had been dormant for some time, Charmer was gone, and he could focus back on college just the way he wanted to for his sophomore year.

Which brought him to the current scenario—sitting in a chair less comfortable than family dinners at Wayne Manor, attending a seminar on 19th Century British Literature, idly spinning a pen through his fingers as the professor rambled on and on about Elizabeth Bennet’s romantic appeal. 

“Despite her flaws and oddities, as being a female bookworm of the times must have been, Lizzie still manages to snag the most eligible bachelor in Hertfordshire. See, one of Austen’s most radical ideas at this point of the century is that everyone can find love.”

Clack.

His pen hit the ground, and Jason swore as quietly as he could. Was this scholar an idiot, or what? And now he couldn’t even reach his pen. 

Grunting, Jason lurched forward in his precarious plastic seat, giving up on his aims when somebody down the row shot him a questionable look. What was he supposed to do now? He needed to take notes, and that was his sole writing utensil. Swallowing his ego, he bit back a groan and tapped on the student before him. 

She turned, a pretty Asian girl in a cream beige sweater and a ribbon up her hair, and Jason’s mouth dried up.

This was worse than having to go on patrol when Mr. Freeze was around.

“Is this yours?” 

She smiled, lips glossy, offering the pen to him with an open palm, and for a moment Jason wondered if life was going to give him a break for once and let him have something good—something normal. Not that she was anything normal, seeing as most girls who looked like they’d stepped out of a magazine for successful trust fund babies fresh out of private school didn’t give a second glance to guys like him, but still. Relationships were normal even for vigilantes, as long as you weren’t someone like him—someone cursed to only ever kiss people he punched or punch people he kissed. 

This was his chance to prove that he was indeed not the member of the Batfamily who pulled the least. 

But obviously life wasn’t going to let him do that.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, causing the girl to instantly snap back to attention lest the professor pointed them out, and Jason cursed under his breath at the notification.

Really, B? Now?

He squinted at the screen, calloused fingers fumbling with the lockscreen login. Did every father figure enjoy interrupting at the worst possible moments? 

Then the message appeared, and all thoughts of normal flew out the door. 

‘Sphinx is missing. Come to Batcave. Now.’

[sorawritesstuff]

just wondering if this would be a cute wip 🤭

𝙸 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚈𝚘𝚞, 𝙼𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝙰𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢

“I must learn to be content with being happier than I deserve” ~Jane Austen

There are three things vigilante Jason Todd hates most in the world: crowbars, people dog-earing his first edition copy of Pride and Prejudice, and Charmer, the newbie vigilante Bruce has brought on to interrogate a recent addition to the Rogues Gallery. 

There are three things budding law student Kylie Wang loves most in the world: books, her grumpy orange tabby cat named Crookshanks, and not having to deal with Red Hood, the acerbic vigilante who works under Batman and seems to have it out for her.  

Unfortunately, both of them might be forced to confront their individual distastes when they inevitably cross paths at Gotham University and fall for each other over a certain Jane Austen book, all the while attempting to keep up the facade of hatred on the rooftops and under the masks.

When you’re students by daylight and vigilantes by night, who has time for love?

secret identities / college au / enemies to lovers / pride and prejudice based / meetcute / jason needs some love

[sorawritesstuff]

y/n: jason and i don't use pet names.

dick: oh come on. what do bees make?

y/n: honey.

*silence*

y/n: haha, see, told you so idiot--

jason *from next room*: yes, princess?

y/n: ...

dick: ...

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"i have lots of friends," she replied, petulant, the corner of her lips sloping downwards in aggreivement.

"really?" his eyes flashed with a silent challenge. "and are you anyone's first choice?"

a beat. "my cat's, i suppose." another second of silence, thick and heavy. "my dog likes my dad better."

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Dick : So, how did you two end up married?

Y/n : He made a tactical error.

Jason : That's not a nice way to say I fell inlove with you.

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[sorawritesstuff]

don't need a white knight, don't need an evil villain,,,

just kinda want that in-btwn anti-hero with rly questionable morals, a tragic backstory, and a showerstorm of angst