#Bruce to any of his kids: you’re the best crime fighters I’ve ever known nobody will ever come close to you

[everwalldigan]

I love me some delicious miscommunications so:

Bruce and Jason standing off (again) after a mission actually gone right and Bruce is looking constipated trying to articulate how proud he is while Jason’s just pissed as fuck that he accidentally followed the bats’ rules and

Jason, fuming, thinking to himself: Bruce must be behind this, he MANIPULATED me into playing by the rules the asshole I didn’t even get to shoot ANYBODY today im never teaming up with them again my reputation is ruined people are gonna think I’ve gone SOFT

Bruce, going through five stages of grief just trying to find a way to say that he’s proud of Jason without him getting decked in the face and Jason running away: today showed me that you will always be your father’s son (he means himself)

Jason, thoughts immediately going to Willis because Bruce would obviously never address him as his son: actually fuck you, fuck you never speak to me again I can’t believe I was stupid enough to agree to this what the hell is wrong with you

So, on one hand. now you have Bruce face palming because he’s sure he articulated himself in a way that couldn’t be misinterpreted so Jason obviously wants nothing to do with him and oh great they’re back to not speaking terms but hey at least Jason didn’t shoot at him so he obviously understood what he meant, right?? Right????

Meanwhile on the other hand Jason is capital H Hurt and so so angry about it because what the actual fuck. He’s TRYING to reform but obviously nothing will ever be enough for golden standards Bruce so he should just go back to at least beating criminals within an inch of their lives because he wasn’t going to prove Bruce right no matter how much he wants to take those pieces of shit off the streets permanently.

And of course, because both of them would rather shoot themselves in the foot than, I don’t know, talk, it results in a huge falling out and Jason’s “shoot at the Bats on sight” rule is back, until one day just happens to trap Bruce and Jason together in a warehouse rigged to explode. They accidentally went after the same gang and got themselves captured instead in the confusion. So Jason’s watching Bruce frantically trying to dismantle the bomb while sitting back casually taunting him like

Jason: you know damn well your cape’s gonna protect you from most of the explosion and the whole building is deserted by now, why are you trying so hard? The only one who’ll bite the dust is Willis’ son, fitting ending isn’t it? Always his son until the very end, you said it yourself!

And holy mothers of all fuckups Batman, there hasn’t been miscommunication this bad since the aftermath of the Tower of Babel

Bruce, turning around with the dismantled bomb in his hand, actively inventing new stages of grief: I was referring to myself actually.

[bigskydreaming]

remember when devin grayson wrote about green arrow flirting with teenager dick grayson and then bruce and dick have an incestuous relationship............................

Listen, I have no idea what this ask says, I just see a string of random letters followed by dot dot dot. 

In completely unrelated matters, the only dynamic between Dick and Ollie I abide by is one where the nicest thing Dick’s ever said to Ollie is something like “hey why does your face look like you killed a squirrel and glued it to your chin, is that what you were going for or do people just not like you and so nobody ever told you til now that that’s what it looks like.”

And even there, that’s still just the best Dick could manage (or was willing to even aim for) after Bruce gave Dick a totally and one hundred percent genuine and sincere Talking To about how he needed to be more polite to Ollie. Cuz the way I envision it, all that’s after Dick initially opened with something like, idk, “hey wanna hear a funny joke, it goes “what do you call a known Errol Flynn fanboy who thinks putting on a domino mask when he fights crime with a bow and arrow like, magically makes his goatee invisible? A dumbass who doesn’t get how secret identities work, that’s what. Get it, its you, you’re the joke.”

LOL for the record, I don’t actually hate Ollie and have no really strong opinions on him one way or another, it usually just depends on how he’s being written in whatever story or issue I’m reading with him. Its just canon that Ollie is like, one of the few people that Dick just openly can not stand, pretty much, with this stretching back far enough that personally, I like to headcanon it goes all the way back to even before Ollie took Roy in and has absolutely nothing to do with Roy whatsoever.

Idk, its just really fucking funny to me to picture that like, for whatever reason, ten year old Dick Grayson decided upon meeting the Justice League that they were all awesome except for Oliver Queen. Dick doesn’t know why, he doesn’t care why, he just knows that like, “I do not care for that Oliver Queen guy, not one bit, and no, I am not open to constructive criticism on this matter, UGH BRUCE STOP TELLING ME I SHOULD AT LEAST TRY AND BE NICER TO HIM, I SAID HE WAS A BUTTFACE AND I MEANT IT, WHERE’S THE CONFUSION.”

Because see, while Ollie is not Actually The Worst, he IS one of the League heroes who is prideful and petty enough to like, absolutely take offense to someone hating his guts for no discernible reason, while considering this more than reason enough to hate their guts right back. Even if that particular someone happens to have both miles and years left to go before they hit either puberty or the top side of five feet tall, and thus in the meanwhile, Ollie must literally lower himself in every sense of the word in order to return fire at his pint-sized and prepubescent critic.

Like, if Dick for whatever reason decided he just doesn’t like Superman or the Flash and he’s not gonna and you can’t make him, then I mean, Clark or Barry or someone else along those lines would just be like, oh, okay, that’s fair I guess. No, its totally fine Bruce, the adorable little human incarnation of glitter, cotton candy and all things Cute and Precious and Wee that you just took in is allowed to hate me if he wants to, its absolutely *wheezing sob* not a big deal. I’m a big boy, I don’t need you to intercede on my behalf with him. Now if anyone needs me, I’ll be wallowing in my room for the next 84 years, trying to figure out if I was some kind of monstrous puppy-kicker in a previous lifetime and that’s why my fate here in this one is to be despised by a ten year old with the superpower of Absolute Preciousness. Its my punishment, clearly, for being just the worst kind of monster to ever exist, the only kind that could actually be hated by someone like your adorable little Fun-Sized sidekick of joy and sunshine and l-l-laughter......no, don’t look at me, I’m hideous! *bursts into tears and scurries away to hide from the light*

But see now, Ollie, on the other hand, like.....he’s not a monster but he’s not about to let even some paragon of preciousness go around painting him as one. Why the fuck does he spend so much money on publicists if he’s just gonna roll over belly-side up the first time one of the people bad-mouthing him just happens to be like, a toddler instead of the usual TMZ?

So Ollie’s not about to admit that he’s actually miffed and even a little bit wounded that this cherub who seems to like even most supervillains more than he likes Ollie, just like, can not seem to be in his presence longer than sixty seconds before drawing his weapons and stabbing Ollie with words that hurt, dammit, because he has feelings too, y’know, he spent a lot of money on pricey therapists figuring out that yes, those are feelings he’s feeling and he can even name some of them.....

Like, he’s not quite on board with actually ACKNOWLEDGING that hey this stings, and that he really just wants to know what the hell this kid’s deal is and why don’t you like me, tiny human, what did I ever even do to you??? But all of that is like......Advanced Level Therapy stuff that he hasn’t quite gotten around to finishing yet at this point in time. Like yeah he’s already dropped a mint on the A-list of the head-shrinking world by now, but apparently he was supposed to keep coming back or something like that, they all keep making a really big deal about that for some reason, and look, he’s been busy. So he really just hasn’t had the time to finish up the course on How To Make Peace With the Fact That Sometimes Tiny Humans Don’t Like Me Even Though I’m A Fucking Delight, Dammit.

But even if the why of this kid getting under his skin so much eludes him for the nonce, Ollie is perfectly clear on one thing: he doesn’t typically go around making enemies of the twelve and under set, but if you prick him, he doth in fact bleed, you little prick. So if this knee-high nightmare is gonna keep coming at me and trying to start shit, then I am more than willing to throw down, is basically Ollie’s take here. 

“He wants to dance? Then c’mon, let’s do this thing. We can dance if he wants to. I’ve got the time,” Ollie says to himself and any other nearby Justice Leaguer who might be looking at him with that swiftly-becoming-familiar expression of mingled judgment, pity, exasperation and something a bit more ambiguous but which probably lands somewhere in the ballpark of “We honestly don’t know what to make of all of this but we’re all a little concerned This Is Not A Good Look, Bro. And also, we would like to formally request by way of this petition with all 200+ signatures of Leaguers and auxiliary members and support staff: please don’t escalate this into something where Batman might actually kill you, because that’s definitely not gonna make any of this less awkward for the rest of us, and uh....not to be indelicate here, but all those times we’ve all said things like no Ollie, we don’t think Bruce is a better fighter than you and we absolutely agree with you, you could totally maybe take him in a fair fight if you had your bow and arrows on you and he had the flu probably.....like. Umm. How to put this....Okay, soooooo....here’s the thing. There may, perhaps, ever so slightly be a possibility slash definite hardcore certainty that there were fib-like qualities to those conversations. A little bit. Oh hey, look at the time, we gotta run, there’s a fire somewhere, hopefully. Lol wait whoops did we say hopefully, that’s so weird like where did that even come from. We definitely meant to say probably. There’s a fire somewhere, probably."

But look, at the end of the day, the thing is, Headcanon Ollie is not like, proud of any of this, but he’s not unproud of it either. He is hashtag justified and he wouold appreciate some validation of that Ugly Truth, even if it might go against the grain and not ever exactly be a POPULAR opinion with the “please don’t tell the ten year old that nuh uh, his face looks like a hairy butthole, nobody wins there, that is not the victory you are looking for” crowd.

Honestly though, at this point Ollie’s list of Big Asks is quite small. Miniscule, even. All he wants, all he really really wants, is for someone, anyone, to join him in grasping the one essential corn kernel at the heart of this whole clusterfuck. The thing that nobody but Ollie seems to get and that Ollie’s pretty sure would be enough to allow him to die happily, if he could just manage to find one other person to sign on to the one single extremely obvious observation he keeps trying to point out to everyone, with a whole lot of nada to show for it:

Because see, the one thing about all of this that drives Ollie just absolutely up a wall, is that for some reason he can’t seem to get anyone to understand that like.....this whoooooole ridiculous mess, just like, even in terms of its very existence in the first place?

None of it is Ollie’s fault.

Dick started it!

Mere moments after frustratedly trying to convey this to Dinah for the umpteenth million bajillionth time:

“Okay, could you at least say something?” Ollie asked exasperatedly. “Anything? Seriously, I would take you counting to ten in Cantonese as an acceptable response at this point.”

“I’m just trying to decide which concerns me more,” Dinah said at last. Several epochs and the equivalent of the entire Jurassic Period later. But whatever, its not like Ollie was holding his breath at this point or anything. “The fact that you are genuinely trying to find and occupy the moral high ground in your feud with....a ten year old. Or that you actually think you’ve found it. That this is it, this is what that looks like. ‘The ten year old started it.’”

That was apparently all Dinah had to say. She fell silent again, and said silence lingered through a recreation of now the entire Cretaceous Period, before continuing into a revival of the whole Paleozoic Era from start to torturous finish.

“Well?” Ollie said with a patience that belied the urgency of the many pressing matters he had to attend to. Like the vanquishing of a ten year old archnemesis most foul.

Dinah just continued to frown pensively.

“Hang on, I’m still deciding.”

[misterewrites]

Threads of Fate, Jason Todd x reader: Challenge

Hiya everyone! E here and basically I am going to keep this short because I’ve been having on and off internet connection for the last 3 weeks. It’s not too bad but it does randomly cut out so I’m kinda speeding through this.

Umm my good friend @hains-mae whom I’ve accidentally gotten addicted to DC movies *Gotham by gaslight cough cough* Has been on a bit of a batman bender and challenge me to write something for her and since I owe her birthday gifts, why not? Specifically Someone x reader drabbles which I’ve always wanted to do anyway so here we are! She chose Jason Todd. 

This a soulmate au kinda. The reader (that’s you!) and Jason are of the same age though he is currently the Red Hood.

I hope you all have an amazing week. I will be trying to write my original story and post it sometime this week but we’ll see what happens. Stay safe, take care of yourself, for the love of all that is holy stay inside! wear masks! PLEASE!

E out, byeeeeeee!

He was coming tonight.

Probably only a few minutes away knowing him.

I could feel it in my bones, the anticipation gnawing at me uneasily, preventing any chance of getting a good night’s rest.

Okay, so I’m lying. This is Gotham after all. Nobody ever got a good night’s sleep in Gotham. Insomnia was par for the course for 90 percent of us.

I sigh heavily as the torrent downpour of the rain crashes against my windows relentlessly.

Threads of fate.

My superpower though it’s not as cool as than it sounds or useful. My mom coined the phase when I was a little kid and I kinda just went along it. Seems to much of a bother to change it now and frankly it’s not impressive when you got an alien lifeform flying around at the speed of sound living the next town over.

Still she swore I was special. I thought she was crazy but she’s mom.

What are you going to do but love her anyway?

There’s a soft groan as my dusty apartment settles against the harsh night air.

He’s here and he knows that I know despite his best attempts to remain stealthy. I mean to be fair he can’t hide from my eyes no matter how much he tries.

I take a sip of my tea and let the warmth fill my body, relaxing for the moment.

A thrum of thunder booms in my ears and a crack of lightning streaks across the sky, utterly blinding.

When my eyes readjust, there he is standing tall and menacingly like the drama queen he is.

Red Hood.

Yeah, that Red Hood in my apartment.

So many questions I bet. Same to be honest.

It started about a year ago when there was a nasty mugging near my apartment complex. I had been working at the time luckily but the news still caused more than a few of us to start carrying our keys between our knuckles and try to avoid eye contact with everyone.  

He says he was cleaning up the streets. I know he was looking out for us, no matter how much he tries to deny it.

Jury’s still out with public opinion on Red Hood. Half the town wants him arrested and the other approves of his violent methods.

Everyone knew he was the second Robin, the wayward child of Batman at odds with his mentor.

I knew him as Jay.

I don’t think he meant to tell me. I don’t think he meant to stay long.

But he did and I let him in, out of morbid curiosity and no regard for my safety.

It was awkward at first, as typical of a normal citizen and a masked crime fighter in a room together but I guess he was lonely.

I mean I was lonely too so I can’t really blame him.

It was small things at first: Would you like some coffee? Local troublemakers, any dealers pushing on the street and where? Did you want to take off your jacket, it’s hot in here. Who was out of Arkham?

Our little back and forths.

Then it got a bit more personal: How was work? Did you kill anyone today? Anyone bother you on the street?

And before I knew it, he was checking up on me. Regularly. Once a month meetings became every other day.

Hence the whole standing in my apartment dramatically. He was probably waiting for the lightning.

I lazily gesture to the mug next to me, his favorite drink all nice and toasty for him.

He takes a seat, tension from his shoulders easing out of his body.

He doesn’t take off the mask of course. I think he regretted it after the first time.

But there was no taking back what I saw: A handsome face with a streak of white in his messy black hair and piercing blue eyes, lost and seeking.

The face of Jason Todd.

I cough loudly trying to get that image out of my head.

Didn’t work.

“So” I began, fiddling with my mug nervously “You okay? You were a little louder than usual. Practically shouting in my ear with that landing.”

He gives a playful chuckle filtered through the mask “You should’ve been asleep like you promised.”

I wave him off with a hand “I said I’d try, not do. Besides, if I was, I’d never see you”

“I was personally trained by Batman himself. You wouldn’t be able to see me if you tried.”

“Yet” I flush, taking a sip of my coffee for the dramatic tension “I see you all the same.”

He laughed even louder.

“I guess I like bugging you” he admitted “Need to practice my barbs.”

“Your barbs as sharp as a butter knife.” I shot back playfully.

“At least I can cook without burning down the place.” 

I say nothing, ears bright pink as I drink deeply from my mug. I can practically hear his grin through that mask.

Jason Todd.

I didn’t grow up in Gotham but the first thing you learn is to keep track of the Wayne’s.

Bruce Wayne was the only real light in this godforsaken shithole. He likes to get drunk and was an idiot and never meet a healthy coping mechanism in his whole life but he’s our drunken idiotic mess and his biggest scandal was usually him accidentally setting a fire in his kitchen.

Of course Jason Todd was Bruce’s ward and he’s also Red Hood which means that’s as far as I’m willing to deduce.

Sometimes, it’s better to play dumb. Safer too.

We were the same age, Jason and I, yet he had gone through so much in such a short time.

I think that’s why he’s here. I think that’s why he’s lonely.

He was stubborn. He stuck to his guns and beliefs even when they cost him the only family’s he’s ever known.

He still loved them and I think they love him but that belief parts them.

I can’t exactly blame him for having a different set of standards: He grew up on the streets. He knew crime firsthand. Of course he knows how terrible it is.

“….Thank you….”

I snap out of my stupor.

“Wha?” I reply smartly.

He doesn’t move but I can feel his nervousness, his anxiety.

“Thank you” he whispers softly “For….this.”

“Thank you too.” I answer gently “This….this is nice.”

“Just a little”

I narrow my eyes” You’re smirking, aren’t you?”

The smooth features of his mask might be indifferent but the light heaving of shoulders? HE’S LAUGHING AT ME!

“You are such a jerk!” I playfully smack his arm.

He burst out with unrestrained laugh.

“That’s it” I cry, rising to my feet “I’mma kick your ass.”

His head tilts quizzically “Can you even lift anything?”

My hand reaches for a pillow  “No mercy!”

“Oh no, I’m shaking in my boots.”

“You will be” I mutter darkly, lunging at him without warning.

Threads of Fate. The chord that ties two people together in destiny.

I see them everywhere. Ever since I was little. Red lines pulling at each other, scattered in all directions across endless miles. Soulmates searching for each other, hoping to close the distance one day.

And as my hand grips the pillow tightly, the bright red thread wrapped around my wrist since birth stretches only a few feet, its end wound tightly around his wrist as I chase him through my home.

My soulmate, my destiny who I am currently trying to murder with a pillow.

Life has a sense of humor. I’m still trying to figure out if I like it or not.