#Jason Todd dies a thousand different ways each day of his new life and no one in a family of detectives notices

[thelaughingmagician]

Task Force Z #6

[anothertimdrakestan]

How DARE You Go And Die On Me???  - Jason Todd x Reader Soulmate AU -

Words: 2.1k

Requested? Yes! From a lovely anon!

“Jason Todd x reader soulmate AU pleasssse where when you touch them with skin for the first time there’s sparkly lights that only you and your soulmate see or something and you feel really warm and your soulmate glows or something? Thank you ❤️”

LINK TO PROMPTS  -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

I love this request. So much. I hope y’all enjoy this one because I really got to live out my famous science nerd dream. Thank you for the amazing request! I secretly love soulmate AU’s hehehe so please send more! Y’all are so creative with them too :)))

Soulmates were a sore subject for you. At a young age you glowed bright red, and it was the most crushing moment of your life. Soulmate glows only occurred when you touched your soulmate for the first time or when they died. Knowing this meant you would never meet your person was hard, but you hoped maybe you’d be one of the lucky ones who got a new soulmate, seeing as you were so young. But years later nothing had happened even though you stayed hopeful. Unlike so many who go off the rails once they realize there’s no one for them, you dedicated your life to researching soulmates, and it was incredibly fulfilling. As a high school intern working under a group of molecular biochemists, world renowned computer scientists, and psychiatrists you were worked towards creating a drug that made you glow in your soulmate color, it would make finding soulmates much easier and from there you could maybe make a sensor and go international with your research. Who wouldn’t want a drug that finds the person you’re meant to be with?

You’d been tracking soulmates to see if there’s any tell before they find out they are soulmates besides the glowing. It was painful to watch thousands find their life long partner but part of you hoped that by finishing this research you would be able to figure out if your soulmate was really gone, or get filthy rich trying. As just a teenager you planned on working for the company for the rest of your life, staying involved as you pursue your degree then returning, this project was growing up with you. 

As far as you knew, soulmates were drawn together. That was the only explanation as to why so many people in your tests were soulmates. There was something almost magnetic about finding your other half, and you were convinced it was chartable. There was a scientific explanation for everything. 

Finally the drug was ready, after months of blind trials and high highs and low lows it was time for the first wave of real life test runs. Grouping a couple thousand eager participants together, your team split into groups. Taking each participant into a room you gave them the drug and filled the color they glowed, and if anyone matched you’d bring them together. Of course all the interns on your team wanted to try too. 

Stepping up you couldn’t hold in excitement. Since you were only newly a teenager you hoped your soulmate color would be cool. You’d seen some amazing colors and meetings all throughout the day. It couldn’t get more exciting.

Stepping up, you took the drug and waited. 

And waited.

And waited.

But you didn’t glow. “Hey uh Y/N you did say you glowed when you were little right? Sorry to break it to yah kid but yours is gone, we’ve got a couple hundred more tests why don’t yah go home?” a voice came over the intercom, and your heart sunk. Sure some people didn’t glow either, and they all had flashed at some point. Your hope was clearly misplaced. And with a broken soul, quite literally, you went home.

Years later you’d kept with the team. The drug was almost ready to be released officially, and the public was beyond excited. You were 25 now, a huge public face for the soulmate finder, you’d stuck with the program and it had made you practically famous. Doing PR you’d brought the drug on talk shows, finding strangers their soulmate on live TV, you made special appearances to celebrities to find and log their soulmate color. Everyone that took your test had their specific color logged in a huge database, so when you tested if your perfect color matched somewhere your soulmate would get alerted. It was perfection.

Tonight you were going on television to do another round of soulmate finding with a late night host. Nothing new.

“And please welcome, Cupid Herself, Y/N!” The crowd was always full wherever you went, everyone wanted a chance at love as soon as possible. “Now I’m very sorry to disappoint the crowd but we’re bringing out some celebrities who’ve requested a chance at love... I bring you THE WAYNES!” You were a little shocked, you probably should’ve read the brief but no difference, you had enough for about ten people. Standing up you shook Bruce Wayne’s hand, moving onto the chair at the side while Bruce and three of his children walked in. “Hello! Mr. Grayson, Todd, and Ms. Brown right?” the host greeted the three and shook Bruce’s hand, no need for his introduction. 

“These three couldn’t pass up on the opportunity. As you know Mr. Drake-Wayne has found his soulmate and now husband so we couldn’t bring him! And my son Damian was erm- busy.” You saw Jason Todd snort, slightly taken aback by his actions on live television. “Can I just say, I am super excited to be here! It’s a huge honor Ms. Y/L/N this is too cool!” Stephanie got up, giving you a quick hug, you smiled, happy that she was so kind. 

“Well lets get this show on the road! I’m sure millions want to know if any of the Wayne’s are their soulmate!” the host waggled an eyebrow as the crowd cooed. This was basically a chance at the lottery, a Wayne was a ticket to riches for life. Taking the lead you gave your pitch about the drug, taking consent before grabbing a serving for four. Walking up you handed a glass to each boy, finishing with Bruce, but he refused. “Oh no, I don’t want to know” he said softly. The crowd booed, and in a bit of a panic the host said “well then how about the lovely Y/N takes a drink? We all want to know if the creator has a soulmate!” you politely told him and the crowd you’d tried before, but there was no light, explaining how you lost is when you were younger. As you saw the crowd looking upset you decided it was better than nothing.

“How about I try it guys! Maybe something’s changed - find out live here on Late Night!” you pitched into the camera and the host nodded, cutting to an ad-break.

“Does this shit actually work?” Jason turned to you, swirling the liquid around cautiously. “Yes! We’ve been error free for five years!” you said proudly, this was your life's work after all. “And we’re back! How ‘bout we get this show on the road! Grayson you first?” 

With a shrug Dick threw the little up back, and in a few seconds a cerulean blue glowed around him. The crowd oohed and ahhed as Dick smiled. “Any matches?” He looked to you. Glancing over at your guy who had snapped the exact color he shook his head. “Not yet! Dick Grayson-Wayne’s soulmate is still out there!” the crowd rumbled in excitement, everyone wanted a test now.

“Ms. Brown! Care to drink?” Stephanie drank eagerly, and quickly shone a deep royal purple and the crowd cheered. “No match!” you let everyone know and there was another cheer.

“Mr. Todd, you next?” Jason didn’t waste a moment, drinking the liquid he shone the brightest red you’d seen in a while. For a moment it reminded you of your red all those years ago. Looking over it was another no, and the crowd was almost losing it, many girls in the audience begged for a drink to see if they were his lover. 

“And lastly Ms. Y/N! Ready to see the creator try her own drug?!” You corrected him, taking a moment to shout out all the amazing scientists, interns, and volunteers you’d worked with over the years. The crowd cut you off, chanting “DRINK DRINK DRINK” urging you to throw the cup back, the liquid tasted way better than the last time you’d tried it in the trial run. You help out your hand to show the lack of coloration and the audience sighed. Smiling sweetly you began to talk about the drop date.

“Thank you all so much! I’m so excited to release this with my team in just a month. I’d like to once again thank my tea-” you heard a shriek “OH MY GOD THAT’S JASON’S COLOR!!!” and the audience lost it. Confused you saw Jason’s jaw drop, and you looked at your hands that now radiated the same deep red from all those years ago. 

“UM WE’LL BE RIGHT BACK!” the host shouted over the chaos. You immediately got up, rushing to the color scanner. “Holy shit Y/N it’s really Jason’s color.” he confirmed your suspicions and without thinking you sprinted back up to the sofa. Connecting your hand to Jason’s cheek the two of you began glowing the same color. Locking eyes with Jason, you couldn’t help but start crying. The aura radiated between the two of you and Jason pulled you into his chest. 

The camera came on after the 20 second impromptu break. And what they saw made the news that night. “JASON TODD FOUND SOULMATE LIVE ON LATE NIGHT” “CAMERAS TURN ON AND JASON IS HOLDING HIS GIRL - TOO CUTE! CLICK FOR PICS” “JASON TODD CUFFED! SEE THE PICS HERE!” In just the few seconds before they could cut the cameras, millions of viewers saw Jason holding you, the bright red shining around the two of you while you clung to him. And the pictures were everywhere. Pulling you off stage you couldn’t wrap your mind around what had just happened. 

“My- my soulmate died years ago. When I was a kid I took the drug and didn’t shine! This doesn’t make any sense!” you looked up a Jason and practically saw a lightbulb go off. “Well um, were you around 13 when your soulmate died? [ you nodded ] And you were about 14-15 when you tried the drug? [ again he was right ] Okay well long story I died and came back to life. And you must’ve tested when I was still gone” he finished and you almost passed out. “YOU DIED?” you screeched. And he clamped a hand over your mouth. 

“Shh princess that’s valuable knowledge for family and soulmates only” it was slowly starting to register that you were in fact his soulmate. “Soulmates” you whispered, leaning in to hug him again. “Soulmates.” he confirmed. 

“God I have never seen Jaybird this sappy in my life, you might be magical” Dick came up to you, shaking your hand and pulling you in for a hug. “You got a good soulmate Jay. By the way, can I have a couple servings early I’ve got a bet with Timbers that Damian’s soulmate is Jon and I need some soulmate help for myself?” you rolled your eyes and Jason tugged you back to his side. “Back off Grayson she doesn’t even know you!” 

“A little protective already Jay? Poor Y/N get used to this sweetheart” Dick winked at you and you felt Jason tighten his grip around your waist. Dick backed off and Stephanie bounded up to you. “Oh my god Tim’s gonna die he’d totally wanna be here! Plus I bet Bruce is gonna have to do all sorts of interviews now hahaha. How are you doing girl? This is a lot! Welcome to the Waynes!” she said, pulling you in for another tight hug, and the seriousness of finding your soulmate hit you. “Oh my god I’m gonna have to do so much press. How did I not think of this. What are the odds oh no this is gonna be a shitstorm fuck fuck fuck” Jason interrupted you by squeezing your hand. “Uh I really hate press too, I mean Bruce owes me patrol for like a week for just tonight but, if you like, need me for something I can go... does that help?” he looked lost, but it was clear that he wanted to help, and it was adorable. 

“I would like that. And it’s late. I’m exhausted. Maybe we can meet up tomorrow somewhere private? We’re gonna get stalked so maybe you can come over to my place?” you realized you just had to take it step by step, and finding a soulmate was the best first step ever. “Yeah, that seems easier.” Jason sighed, and the two of you exchanged numbers.

“By the way, what does patrol mean? And does the color red mean anything to you cuz it doesn’t to me and usually the color means something but it could not?” You saw Jason’s eyes widen.

“Erm, I’ll tell you tomorrow. It’s another one of those ‘family and soulmates only’ facts. If that’s okay?” you nodded, just happy to have a soulmate.

“Of course Jason, but just know I’m gonna give you a hard time for going and dying on me. Idiot” you stuck your tongue out as he winked.

“Only to make a perfect love story for you princess” and you groaned, but he wasn’t wrong. This one truly one for the books. 

[caffeinetheory]

There’s Gotta Be A Reason

Follow up to Everything Stays requested, well they got me to consider it, @mystery-5-5

this is Jason’s point of view, and he may seem a little ooc for him but i wanted a softer take, hopefully it will make sense, also sorry for the long wait, i kept putting off finishing it ‘cause i want to hopefully make something that’ll stand with the original

(I ended up skipping the last verse because i wanted to focus on Jason not Mari also if this is all over the place sorry, I’ve been working on and off with it and it was longer then I meant to make and took way longer, oops )

///

The bruises still lingered on his arms and the dried blood was still sticking to his skin. They were the only things Jason could feel at the moment, he was numb. Completely numb and barely knew his own name. Only one thing stayed in his mind untouched by the madness of the pit, loving bluebell eyes that seemed to hold the world to him and a soft voice drowned out by whatever had brought him back. 

There's gotta be a reason that I'm here on Earth

As memories slowly came back to him there was one constant, a girl. She was special to him, he knew that much but he couldn't place why for the life of him. Maybe she was the reason he was back, no that couldn’t be it. Talia made sure Jason knew he was theirs because he owed them from bringing him back.

But why was she the only thing he could remember, there has to be something. The distant memory of what must have been her laugh is sometimes the only thing keeping him sane.  Something in the back of his mind tells him he should hold back, but what was it?

Gotta be a reason for the dust and the dirt

Seeing the grave for the first time was jarring. He really did die didn’t he. Pain enveloped his mind as he tried to remember, but it hurt to much so he just let it go. There are more important matters at the moment anyway, like getting out from under their control. That was one thing he could never forget, he didn’t like being told what to do.

The changing of the seasons never changed my hurt

It must have been at least a year since he was brought back and he still under them. The plan was coming together, he’d run with their weapon. It was bad enough they were messing with his life but a CHILD! That wouldn’t stand. Another spring was coming, that was when he’d make his break. All that was left was to get the kid on board.

So what's it worth? What's it worth?

Saving Damian may have been a mistake, the kid was an absolute pain, but it felt like the right thing to do. Weird to think he could do the right thing but something told him that was what he should do.

Damian told him where to drop him off, a manor. It brought the pain in his head but he ran to the shadows before it could get worse. There was something important about the manor but it wasn’t the right time to figure it out.ashes of memories were becoming more frequent while he was in Gotham.

Worth another shot of whiskey and another sip of gin

Being passed out drunk was one of the only things keeping the pit’s madness under control, if you can even call it that. If he was drunk he couldn’t go out and fill the need to kill, be the Hood. Bottles littered the floor, the weapons he could run with strewn about on every surface there wasn’t a bottle. This wasn’t right but what else could he do, remembering hurt but something told him it would be worth the pain. 

Another drop of poison that is slowly sinking in

Was he ready though, that’s the question.

Downing the last of the whiskey in his shit apartment he made himself a drunken promise. This would change. Fight through the pain and go back to the manor, check on the kid, see if he can find out why it causes the pain that only happens when he is trying to remember the before.

If we're going down together, better take another hit

Dick was the one who found a lost Jason looking lost in the manor gardens. 

“Jay…”

“...Dickie”

The brothers broke down in each others arms. This started a practice between the two, every over day they would meet at a coffee shop and Dick would help him with his memories. It was slow and it hurt the older boy to see his little brother hurting so much but they made it work.

We won't be here forever, so let's make the best of it

It was a year and a half later he got to see Roy again. You couldn’t separate the for weeks afterwards. They helped one another, became a duo. What they did wasn’t exactly legal but when was being a vigilante ever legal. 

They were the fuck-ups but they worked. They did what they could to help when others wouldn’t. Roy helped with relapses and the intrusive thoughts, Jay could keep Roy grounded. Together they were the Outlaws, others would join them from time to time but it was something that was theirs.

Walking down to the burial ground

The day he finally saw his grave was a jarring one to say the least. It was the day everything finally fell into place. That laugh that could be heard when he was alone explained, the hard to control urge to mame clowns, and red crowbars making him uneasy. It all made sense, why that clown was still alive would always baffle him but that wasn’t his problem.

With a sad song in his brain

It also brought back the sweet voice in the back of his head. Always there but he could finally hear it again. Soft bliss like bells on a warm spring day. Pure comfort, he knew it went with the eyes, but no one could tell him who they belonged to. At first he thought it was Dick, but that wasn’t right, but who else had known him and been close to him?

General Cloud is an old man now

When he saw Bruce again with no masks in the way he didn’t know how to feel. There were a thousand questions going through his head, the loudest being why...why didn’t you do anything? At this point did it matter though, what’s done was done. It was clear he had gone through enough already, no wasn’t the time to stab an old wound… since when did I think about others like that?

But it feels like yesterday

Despite the open invitation to stay at the manor Jason avoided it as much as he could. The photos and halls bringing back what he assumed were memoires, memories hurt. It was a pain he wasn’t ready to quite fully face, that was until he saw the hidden frame. It's simple black outline was hard to miss in the library. It was with his favorite book, why his favorite book was a worn red leather bound book written entirely in French he wasn't sure but something told him it was more than what was contained on the yellowing pages. 

He was on the front lines, stranded on the beach

Memories from a gala not to long after he was adopted came flooding his head. Feeling lost because he was alone, Dick had classes and Jason was by himself in forein country. Baby pink and calm also flashed in his mind. There still wasn’t a clear face but she was real! He knew it! Walks throughout the city, along the Seine and thorough every back alley. She lead him to all her favorite places, showed him the lights that reminded him of the stars, showed him kindness when he felt alone. Was she the reason the madness wasn’t completely gripping him, but how could that be?

Crawling to his best friend, floating in the sea

Roy had found him thumbing through the yellowed pages seemingly lost in his own head. Roy saw the picture and things started to make sense, but for now he needed to take him back home. The next few weeks Jason wasn’t fully there, the memories were hitting him like a flood, sweeping him away. It was hard but he made himself swim, he pushed them back but not away. He still had a mission to attend to.

But he didn't make it, he still can't believe

Every Time he tried to remember now nothing new comes, he knows there is more. There has to be doesn’t there. This can’t be all, Jason Peter Todd knew there was more, what was the key to a lock he couldn’t find?

How arbitrary fate is, he says

Jason thought he had everything there was in his memories at this point, it had been at least 3 years since he died and more than a year since he was free from the League’s influence but her name always eluded him. The one time he tried to ask Dick they both got called away on something urgent and Dick would evade the question every time. Who was she and what had happened that her saying name was akin to saying the cursed words that would bring the devil himself to the living room?

There's gotta be a reason that I'm here on Earth

Something felt different as Red Hood took out the latest drug cartel with Arsenal, something he couldn’t put his finger on. It was a good different though, like something good was going to come his way soon. 

Gotta be a reason for the dust and the dirt

Visiting his grave still felt weird to Jason, but it was a place he could think clearly. No one bothered him there, it was just him and the old him. Something in the back of Jason’s head told him that the old him, old memories would finally be clear in the coming months. A single marigold laid on his grave as left, a small smile on his face as the gate closed behind him.

The changing of the seasons never changed my hurt

Spring came and went, so did most of the summer. Still nothing new has happened but Jason kept the positive thought in his head. He had made it this far, what was the point of giving up now. That didn’t mean tracing his scars to try and bring back more memories didn’t hurt when nothing came up, but at least Roy could always distract him.

So what's it worth? What's it worth?

Fall was about mid way through when Bruce had gotten a call from someone in the Watchtower, who he didn’t know but he could tell it wasn’t expected. Why would someone move to this godforsaken place, a Leaguer no less? Did they have a deathwish? 

Worth another shot of whiskey and another sip of gin

The anniversary of the Outlaws forming was quite the weekend bender, the whole family insisted he celebrated, kept him out of the area for some reason. Roy took him to Star City to get wasted, sure he was going clean but it was a special case, and maybe it hurt his family wanted him gone for awhile… he really thought that after all this time they didn’t see him as a problem kid anymore, that he had improved, at least he still had Roy by his side.

Another drop of poison that is slowly sinking in

The hangover the next day sucked ass, Roy and Jason could agree on that. But it got his mind off what his family didn’t want him to know about. 

If we're going down together, better take another hit

A few weeks later Jason got called to help with a case in Gotham. With everyone, which was weird with how they seemed to be trying to keep him from the city the last few weeks, but if his family needed him he would better. That’s what family was for after all wasn’t it?

We won't be here forever, so let's make the best of it

With Red Hood’s help the villain team up was taken care of quickly. Something told Jason to hang around for longer though, so he did. Taking up an old patrol route. The feeling came back, and for a reason he couldn’t explain it brought a smile to his lips.

There's gotta be a reason that I'm here on Earth

Jason had finished his patrol earlier than usual, he was one of the only ones out that night. He could hear voices from the living room, something told him he should go in but he couldn’t get himself too. What was this feeling? 

Then the voice that was always telling him how he mattered, how much they cared, the one that helped him, came through the ajar door like it was meant just for him. There was a sadness in it that made his heart break, she didn’t deserve to feel that sad. She was an angel and she deserves all the happiness in the world. 

Gotta be a reason for the dust and the dirt

Curiosity was getting the best of him, why was she here? As she talked about a chain he had an epiphany Marinette!!! Her name was Marinette, and with that everything fell into place. She was his light, his reason to fight even if he didn’t know it.

Something she said made him forget about the joy he felt, “I think that’s why I couldn’t let it be real, let him go… I always wanted to be by his side, with him through thick and thin.”

She still loved him? She didn’t know he was alive? How much pain had she been going through? He couldn’t catch his helmet before it hit the ground making everyone look his way, he was into much shock to care though, she was real and staring right to his soul. 

The changing of the seasons never changed my hurt

At first she was tense and ready to fight but Dick called his name and that was all it took for her to launch herself at him. Any punch he got her deserved...wait she was holding him like he would disappear if she let go. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and Mari just held him closer. Regaining his thoughts after the initial shock Jason returned the hug just as tight, “I’m here, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere,” he needed it just as much as she did. Lighty petting her hair as he helped calm her down, she was really in his arms again. 

How long had it been? Too long and she was there now, that's what mattered. He had a lot of time to make up for, and gosh darn he was going to.

So what's it worth? What's it worth?

They had both changed so much since they were in their teens but he could still see her beauty under all the scars, she maybe slightly worse for wear but she was still his Mari. the look she gave him looking into his eyes, he knew she could still she him in there, and even if she didn’t know it she was the reason. He had found his reason to live again. The calling was right, something good was going to happen eventually, and the wait was more than worth it.

Worth another shot of whiskey and another sip of gin

They spent the rest of the night together, talking and just being together. When Jason awoke with movement on his chest he was worried then seeing Mari he was at ease. She took his hand and lead him like a  puppy to the kitchen where they could eat breakfast. 

Eventually she had to go but they exchanged numbers and he was already planning a date. They had years of lost time to make up for and like hell he wouldn’t start as soon as he could. She was his light and he was going to keep that light close as much as he could.

Another drop of poison that is slowly sinking in

Seeing Mari sitting on the dock swinging her legs like when they would hang out in Paris brought a smile to Jason’s lips. She looked stunning in jeans and a red hoodie, a red that reminded him of his costume, she took off her headphones upon hearing him, a grin burst onto her lips when she saw him. She brought a warmth to his chest he never wanted to leave. Holding out a black helmet to the girl of his dreams she got on his bike holding him together then she needed to, Mari was having time time of her life as they speed down the docks at high speeds. She really was perfect.

If we're going down together, better take another hit

We won't be here forever, so let's make the best of it

When the night ended Jason made a promise to himself, and by the look in her baby blue eyes she did too, they would make this work. 

Life might be short but with you by my side it will all be worth it...

///

Finally finished and I hope the wait was worth it <3

[gobydana]

Amazing Quotes from the comics

Below are some of my favorite quotes from each person. Sorry this list is long. 

Bruce Wayne/Batman

- Death is powerless against you if you leave a legacy of good behind. Death is powerless against you if you do your job. My father saved the lives of over four thousand people, one at a time... with his bare hands and his mind. Death was with him the entire time.

-  Clark, I'm sure anywhere you go in the universe, you'll find stupid people.

-  You don't know how I question myself and everything I've become. The right of it. The wrong of it. Not allowing myself any reward for the good. Damning myself for every mistake. Thinking of everyone who's sacrificed themselves in my war. Everyone close to me. Everyone who cared.

- Our greatest glory is not in ever falling, but in rising every time we fall.

-  Sometimes it’s only madness that makes us what we are.

Selina Kyle/Catwoman

- Live fast. Love hard. Die young. Leave a good-smelling corpse.

-  A long time ago, before I put on this mask, I was afraid of everything

-  "Your ex-lover, a murderous psychopath who has repeatedly made our lives a living hell, nearly burns my new home to the ground and all you can say is 'gross'?!

-  Show a man what he expects to see, and he won't look beneath the surface.

Alfred Pennyworth

-  I fear sometimes, dear boy, that if you don't give this up, you'll have nothing. You can't have darkness and light at the same time, Master Bruce..

-  Everyone has a vulnerability

-  Hnn. At least when Master Richard snuck out, he had the decency to construct a pillow dummy.

-  Pirate Stories-why did I love them as a boy? Because at heart they're about children who rebel against their parents to create new lives for themselves. They're stories of defiance. But the trick is, when you look at them as a parent, you see, they're actually written as cautionary tales. The child comes home in the end, just before doom strikes the ship. But in this tale, Bruce, the one I've helped make for you, Batman...I worry it has gone on too long...that I've kept it going with you long past it's natural end. That's what I was screaming about when you were on the wrecked submarine. Not the ways you've failed me but the ways I may have failed you.

Kate Kane/Batwoman

-  You coming? Or do I have to smash this bitch in the teeth all by myself?

-  You think I'm afraid of you? Any of you? You gave me a bulletproof suit, you morons! What can you do to stop me?

-  You will never get these years with her back, and a daughter needs her mom. I know I did. And I would've done anything to have more time with her. I can't be the reason for doing that to another kid. I can't

- So there is someone new in town ... Who the hell wears white?

Luke Fox/Batwing

-  I really should lead with the knockout gas instead of conversation.

-  You're leading me around through this nightmare like it's business as usual. Like I'm supposed to accept the supernatural. I accept it, okay? And now I'm going to kick its ass!

-  This night sucks. And now I have no choice but to run and hide because "Mary Psycho Poppins" just handed me my ass.

Dick Grayson/Nightwing (including his time as robin)

-  With you guys, it seems like I'm hot stuff … a know-it-all … but I've been back with The Batman again, and next to him I feel like I'm a stupid kid repeating fifth grade … for the third time.

-  Try to understand our position here, Batman. You began training to be a hero as a young adult. For me and a lot of the other Titans -- like Vic -- that training shaped and influenced most of our childhood. Unlike the JLA, the Titans aren't just about a promise to the world -- it's also about a promise to each other … to ourselves. We swore on our childhood nightmares that we'd be there for one another. If I don't honor that I don't honor who I am.

-  Sometimes I'm surprised I can even stand on a high ledge after what happened to the Flying Graysons. Boss Zucco could have sabatoged Haly's Circus any number of ways to drive down business and get his protection money. Instead he gave the crowd that night a show they'll never forget. I know I won't. When my mom and dad died, attendance actually went up.

-  Okay Mom and Dad, your 'Flying Grayson' is about to take the great leap. Or as they say in French, Le Grand Saut. Down, down, and away. I'd say I wish you could see me now, but I know you're watching me - I can feel angels on my shoulders. And probably a bat too. You said some records aren't meant to be broken, Bruce. But more than anything, I wish you were down there right now watching with Alfred and Tim as I break this one.

-  I had a good teacher, except for the interpersonal skills and the ability to work with others. That was me.

Barbara Gordon/Batgirl/Oracle

- A little over a year has passed since my old life ended, since I died and was reborn. The shadows remain, but only to give contrast to the light. I am no longer a distaff impersonation of someone else — I’m me, more me than I have ever been. I embrace it, and the light, with a deep, continuing joy.

-  Gotham should be safe again. Well, until the next thing. There’s always another thing

-  Wait for a hero? Barbara Joan Gordon -- Be your own damn hero

-  I'll wake up, learn from my mistakes and ultimately win the fight. I always do.

Jason Todd (including his time as robin)

-  I'll be damned if my best friend is going to die ... because he was dumb enough to trust me

-  Someone tell me I'm not having a heart-to-heart with a reanimated assassin

-  Trust? You...? I'll... give it a try, guys. But I'll tell you right now... I'm probably going to screw it up.

-  I'm sorry, I'm never going to be the hero you want me to be. I have every confidence in you--that you'll stay the hero I know you are

Tim Drake/Red Robin (including his time as robin)

-  The weight of the future... all of our futures... it just presses on me sometimes. And lately, it's been crushing, and I've been too afraid to ask for help. But I need to, Bruce. So this is me, asking for help.

-  It’s not smart to blackmail the wrong people

- That’s what we are. Not just a team, but a family. One day we might be the Justice League, but for today we’re the Teen Titans. 

-  I had a plan. That plan just went to hell

Stephanie Brown/Spoiler (including her time as batgirl and robin)

-  How come every time I try to do this different than Batman, I end up doing exactly what Batman would do?

-  I am who I choose to be.

-  I just watch two guys stealing TVs run into one another. Sadly, both televisions were lost... On the bright side, they'll each have a friend in jail.

-  Here's the deal, I'm a 'punch first, ask questions later' kinda gal. Him? He's a stabber.

Cassandra Cain/Orphan (including her time as batgirl/black bat)

-  I don't kill. But I don't lose, either.

-  Gotham City. Gotham. City. That just... sounds right. Mailbox. Van. Razor. It's strange how naming... changes things. I've walked these streets... every inch of this city... but I never had the words. I never knew the names. Now... it's like it's all changed. All new. Or maybe... Maybe it's me that's changing.

-  A special ability to predict my opponent's moves. That doesn't begin to describe it. Time... ran together. The future... blending... into the moment. A blink of an eye... the knife thrust that follows... both one. It was like... like I could predict my opponent's moves. Okay, that does describe it. But it doesn't do it justice.

Damian Wayne/Robin

-  Father, I'm sure you'll be angry with me for disobeying you again but I don't care, I will not let you fight Leviathan alone. You need me and I will always be at your side. Because it will be hard for me to say these words face to face, I want you to know that Mother may have givenme life, but you taught me how to live. Love and respect your son Damian

-  I don't want to end up like Ducard... without a moral compass... I don't want to turn into a NoBody... I want to be like you. I've always wanted to be like you.

-  I'm sure you didn't leave your hole tonight thinking you'd get your ass kicked by a ten-year-old!

-  I'm not the one in a ship filled with alien freaks, so how about shutting up and letting me work on keeping you safe, father!

Duke Thomas/Signal

- Someone told me that the problem with youth is the inability to accept your own mortality. I wouldn't consider this one of my problems

-  Sometimes you're wrong. Sometimes there is a place for you at the table. Some mysteries may never be solved by you alone. Sometimes you don't have to prove yourself repeatedly -- because you're confident about your purpose. And sometimes you just have to get to work for everything to work out.

-  not to mention you tire stealing genius, i’m not robin!

-  My career of choice has crazy hours, bad benefits, and doesn't pay. But it's the dream I never knew I always had. Mom, dad... I'm going into the vigilante business. I hope I live to tell you all about it.

Harper Row/Blue bird

-  I want training. Proper training. Tim's great at the tech stuff, but so am I. I want to know how to karate chop someone in the neck so their eyeballs pop out. I want to know the cool stuff.

-  Sometimes all it takes is a few words to change your life. For me it took seven. Seven words, spoken in the dark.

-  And you thought "Oh, Hey, I'm going to just talk to the scariest-looking bastard in the Narrows and see what he thinks"?

-  I never had a choice - but only because this is what I want, more than anything. And I was going to do this. I've told you that, again and again

Jean-Paul Valley/Azreael

-  You aren't asking if I'm okay, Lucas. You are asking if I can fight. I am angrier than I have ever been in my life, and I am sharing my mind with one murderous AI, and another one modeled off the world's most dangerous vigilante. Yes Lucas. I am ready to fight

-  Nomoz...he’s the one who came for me...he’s the one who broke me. For the greater glory of God

Feel free to add onto this list. I would love to know everyone’s favorite quotes. 

[moonlights-inkwell]

There’s Something Tragic About You.

Summary: You find out that Jason’s dead, and slowly but surely learn to cope before a mugging brings a new vigilante to light in your eyes.

Jason Todd x reader

Word Count: 3,018

[part 1] [part 3]

So... I admit I got a little carried away with this. This chapter wound up longer and a hell of a lot angstier than I originally intended but oh well? 

Title is from Hozier’s From Eden. 

You find out that he's dead at the same time everyone else in your class does when the principal comes in to English class to share the awful news. You hate to admit it to yourself, but as soon as he walks in you know he's there to talk about Jason, but never in a thousand years had you thought that he was going to say that Jason was dead. According to him, Jason had died when a bomb had gone off in the hotel where he had been staying; some freak terror attack. Seemed to come out of nowhere, there was nothing that could have been done, he says in a voice authoritative enough to make you angry but filled with enough condolence for you to wasn't to sob. While everyone else whispers about terrorism and why Jason was all the way in Ethiopia; your head bows, hair falling around your face as you allow the tears to fall. He's gone. No matter how many whispers about him and how weird it was that he was dead would bring him back, no matter how many comments about terrorism, about bombs. He's dead. Jason, your Jason, brilliant Jason. Dead. The only thought that comes to you beyond your comprehension of his death is that whatever deity lives up above you must have a sick sense of humour, as your tear-filled eyes stare down at your copy of The Great Gatsby. Of course. Two dead Jays. The rest of the day is a blur of incomprehensible colours and sounds, while you're caught in a head space somewhere between dazed and haunted. The kids who had once bullied you instead give you a wide berth, even they seem to grasp that right now isn't the right time. No one speaks to you all day, and just the concept of being in the cafeteria makes you want to puke. Eating is a task that seems impossible and besides, there's no one there you want to sit with. Instead, you timidly walk to Jason's locker, unlock it, and stare blankly at the locker, making a mental note of the contents. Your eyes glide across an old red jacket that you hadn't seen in months. You recall making a comment about the jacket and how much you liked it, and in a moment of sudden desperation you grab it and pull it on, revelling in the feeling of being surrounded by something that had once been Jason's. [E/C] Eyes slide across a copy of pride and prejudice, and your fingers gently pick it up before closing the locker quickly. You know theft is wrong, and under normal circumstances you wouldn't have done such a thing, but you can't lose everything of him. You need something to remember him by, and it might be sick, but you need it to cope.

The funeral is unbearable, sitting beside your parents on a hard pew in an icy church in front of the coffin that held the boy who said he'd come home was hell, like a nightmare come true. Before Jason, the only person who you had ever known who had died was your grandmother, and the bracelet she had given you had been passed onto Jason, and like a curse it had taken Jason from you too. You had spent days trying to convince yourself that it was only a fear toxin induced hallucination, that Scarecrow had dropped some sort of bomb of gas over the city, leaving you to deal with the contents of your own mind, but no. Jason is dead. Gone forever, and you're stuck here without him. Your parents hadn't known Jason as anything more than 'that boy who comes over sometimes', but they sit silent besides you, and you're grateful for that. You're sure they don't know what to say beyond useless words of apology, but they're there and that means more than you could ever explain. Other than your family and a few of the teachers who had liked Jason, there is only one person there you even recognise, Bruce Wayne. You'd never said much more than a few words to Bruce while Jason was alive, only his butler who had taken a shine to you, but from the look of utter sadness that Mister Pennyworth had given you onto your way into the church you didn't doubt that Bruce and his butler had felt something like you did. It felt strange to think of Batman as a creature who could mourn, but orphaned Bruce Wayne's son being murdered? That was something you could never comprehend if you lived a hundred lifetimes. There's a boy who looks barely older than 18 or so, surrounded by other people that age, dressed in black with his eyes bloodshot. He looks almost strikingly like an older Jason and you almost call out before it occurs to you after a few seconds that he's Dick Grayson, Bruce's first ward. Jason had once confessed to feeling in the shadow of him, both as a Robin and as Bruce's son, and yet here he is crying for him. You don't approach either after the service or at the grave side. What could you possibly say to them that wouldn't sound trite or all too familiar? What do you say to people who already lost their families and just lost another member of the one they had tried to create for themselves? It feels strange as you stare down at his headstone, fifteen-year-old boys shouldn't be dead and buried. Jason shouldn't be.  

The sound of the alarm makes your eyes slip open, arm reaches out almost automatically to grab your phone and turn it off, bones cracking while you roll onto your back and check the screen for any new messages. Eyes squinting from the sudden bright light in the otherwise dimly lit room, you sigh softly and rake your fingers through your hair, a text from your mum hoping that you're safe and happy. You let out a quiet groan before shuffling to your feet, making a mental note for yourself to call her when you're more awake while padding into the kitchen as you crack your back, then turn on the radio as you begin to wake up at the sound of other voices. You curse at the sound of the news, almost sure that you had left it on the music station last night. The news, especially in Gotham was never good; there was a reason you don't read the Gazette (other than the fact that it's a rag). Fingers enclose around a box of cereal as the radio anchor talks about a crime scene in a warehouse near the docks, pouring the brightly coloured pebbles into a bowl while she talks about a duffel bag filled with decapitated heads. Somewhere in your sleep dazed mind reminds you that you should be disgusted by the waste of life, but the rest of you reminds you that this is Gotham. If you weren't willing to be surrounded with murder and crime you should have moved to Metropolis or Coast City for college, but you were still here, and you wonder if that says more about you than the city that you're willing to stay there. Your mum had wanted you to either go to a new city for college or live at home with her, but while you couldn't bring yourself to leave Gotham the prospect of living with your parents sounds hellish. You sit on the counter, eating tiredly as you half listen to an interview with Commissioner Gordon caught somewhere between too hungry to stop eating and too tired to get up and turn it off. Mumbling bitterly under your breath about how Gordon and his cops aren't going to do shit and how they never do shit, because they just leave all the hard work for Batman and each new Robin, you force yourself off the counter and off to get a shower and get dressed for work.   The walk to work is short, but Gotham is cold enough even in spring for you to feel uncomfortable during the walk. It's freezing, a hard blow of the wind making your coat billow around your thighs, and the only positive you can think of is that it isn't raining but as if someone above had been listening, a small droplet of water hits the tip of your nose, and then your forehead. Fuck. Of course. You let out a quiet groan and begin jogging, weaving in and out of other pedestrians and then cars as you bolt across the road. There's always a strange sort of discomfort that comes from living in Gotham, probably a result of it's wet and cold environment and the fact that it's close enough to an Asylum for its inmates to break out and live amongst you before attacking, but today's discomfort comes from something different than the usual. You turn your head to try to gage just what it is exactly as it hits you, it feels like being watched. Turning your head back to see what's in front of you, you try to ignore the feeling before turning on your heel to see if you can work out whether that feeling is right, but Gotham streets are so packed you could be stalked all the way from your apartment and have no clue. That thought makes your stomach drop quickly and because of that you can't help but feel relieved at the sight of the familiar red neon lettering on top of the diner.   Pauli's has hardly changed since you were in high school, still old looking and homely, with the red and white checked metal tables and peeling vinyl on the seats of the booths, spacious and claustrophobic in a way that makes you sad, but every single time you enter it's with a smile and today is no exception. The fifties aesthetic was one that you understood the appeal of without ever really being into under usual circumstances, but Pauli's was different for you, with the hand-drawn posters and bright colours. Hooking your jacket up on your usual peg by the door, you let yourself smile at one of the other waitresses (an older woman who had taken you happily and willingly under her wing after remembering you coming in near daily during your school days) and tie your apron around your waist. Working in Pauli's while you're in college had seemed almost obvious, like something destined to be: maybe it was a subconscious thing where you felt the need to come back to atone for the date that never happened, or just to return to something familiar in a city that looks more and more alien to you with every other day. The old diner meant more to you than you would have confessed; with its familiar slightly greasy smell and its regular customers and it helps on the long shifts after classes, when people who you see almost daily smile up at you while you fill up their coffee or take their orders, asking to make sure that you're okay. Gotham might have spent a lifetime making you harder than you would have been anywhere else; but the people, hardened in the same ways that you were, had done a pretty good job of reminding you that normal, everyday people were still good... and sometimes, after looking up at the flicking TV over the counter while it showed reports of costumed criminals, you need reminding. You often find your eyes glancing to your old booth, and then to the old black and white tiles around it, when shifts get slow in between intermittent glances to the clock on the wall surrounded by bright red neon letters, COFFEE. You pick up a pot of coffee, and turn around, noticing when a cop lifts a hand to indicate that he either needed a refill or wanted to order, you clench your jaw before sighing and forcing a smile and then walk over.   When you finally leave work the rain has stopped but the cold has increased fourfold as if to compensate for it, and your candy-coloured uniform barely does anything to keep you warm even with your jacket. It's almost unbearable, even with your hands shoved into your pockets, and that overwhelming feeling of someone watching you is back full throttle. The bright orange fluorescent lights overhead mean that at least you know that the way home isn't entirely dark, but it feels more like a clinical sort of light, the orange not the same warm colour as the street lights in other cities instead seeming cold. Gotham in daylight is like walking through any big city, but at night the city became something more... something darker. A labyrinth of winding streets, all smog filled and cold, with monsters hiding around every corner. All at once you're struck with an understanding why your mother always said that you shouldn't be out in the city after dark. You try to swallow that insecurity and slip down into an alley, your usual shortcut home, and finally start to relax at the familiarity. It's short-lived. Walking slowing, you hear more than one set of footsteps coming from behind you and you begin cursing under your breath, and before you can even begin to speed up you feel the sharp chill of a blade against your neck.   "Give us all you got." The man hisses into your ear, breath hot and predatory against your skin and you can't even begin to disguise the cringe that overcomes you. You know that you should be terrified but all that you can think is that his breath is gross. Two more men walk around the two of you, and leer down at you as your hand slides into the pocket of your coat, but then scowl as you reveal the contents to them; a coffee-shop loyalty card, a dollar fifty in change and four hair ties. You're a poor college student; you don't know why anyone would choose to mug you, there's nothing that you could possibly give to them that they would want. No watch, no jewellery, no phone, no wallet to hand over. You almost smile at the fact that you forgot your phone until it dawns on you that you have no way of calling for help and not getting your throat slashed for the attempt. Shit. Eyes flitting around the alley way, you try to make out if there is a way for you to escape, but to no avail as one of the two men surges closer to make sure that you weren't holding out on them. His hand scrabbles around in the empty pocket before grabbing at your thigh through the thin fabric, causing you to let out a loud yelp of anger while his face leans in closer to yours. Your mouth opens for you to tell him to get his hand off you but all that comes out is a loud scream as a bullet flies through the side of his head, sending a mess of blood and liquefied brain splattering onto the dirty ground. The man who had been holding onto you suddenly throws you to the ground beside the body, your hand barely missing the blood, as he and his one remaining accomplice run off.   The orange light from the streetlight makes the blood look almost black, like some sort of tar that was making its way closer and closer to you with every second. You shuffle backwards quickly, slicing your hand open in the scrabble to get away from the gore, only to slam against something warm and hard. Legs, you realise as you turn your head. Leaning over you is a man, tall and broad, clad in leather and a helmet that glints crimson even with the darkness and streetlights. The smell of gunpowder radiates from him; from the still smoking gun at his side.   "You always get the attention of dangerous pricks?" The voice that comes from the helmeted man is heavily modulated, sounding more like the sort of robots that you'd find in a Sci-fi B-movie crossed over with static and buzzing and it would be almost funny if it wasn't for the gun clenched in his hand and the fact he had just murdered someone in front of you. You assumed the modulation was there for a reason similar to the reason why Batman deepened his voice on patrol, being a Vigilante in Gotham was dangerous enough: but one who had no problem with killing? That meant that more than one type of person would be looking for him and a voice works as a means of finding a person. But hell, in Gotham it could just mean that the man in front of you actually was some sort of cyborg; like Arnie in Terminator, or like RoboCop. You stare up at him from your place on the floor, silent and scared witless, eyes flitting from the lifeless mask and the gun. "...Well?"   "...No?" You ask rather than state while getting to your feet, holding your injured hand awkwardly before shoving it into your pocket."...You just killed-"   "Put down." Was the mechanical response, as if talking about a rabid animal rather than a human being (albeit a scummy one), and that makes you step back quickly. "...You're welcome [Y/N]." Blinking rapidly, a droplet of rain hits your jaw, then another on your shoulder, then the top of your head, before the downpour begins once more. Within seconds, your hair is plastered to your forehead, and you let out a shaking sigh. You turn on heel from the helmeted man then run home as fast as your legs can carry you. It's only once you're home-with every door and window locked, sat on your couch in an old t-shirt and sweat pants while drying your hair with a towel, that you're suddenly struck with a question as you place a bandaid onto the palm of your hand.

How did he know your name?  

@hyp-oh-critical

[koriandrsucker]

oh my god if you write a jaykori fic with that whole "jason has lived in dick's shadow but kori CHOOSES HIM AND LOVES HIM" thing i may die?? i really wish there was more fic out there. i wish there was more kori fic out there period, but specifically jaykori Im so starved for that content.

Hice un poco de trampa y utilicé lo que ya te había enseñado, love me.title: love me, love me.warning: common problems of an ESL, angst, is really bad, all that.

Jason was just a kid the first time he saw her. At that age, he was too enthusiastic about green underwear and black masks to care about anything else than becoming a superhero and fighting crime alongside the Dark Knight of Gotham. Sure, he liked girls, but it wasn’t a priority. Then Richard came, crossed the threshold and introduced to him the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. That night, he felt something stir inside him, an emotion that almost stopped his heart and had him panting under the bed sheets as he whispered her name, over and over again, a hand wrapped around himself.

His childhood ended soon after, the Joker took his opportunity to be just a boy with a crush on his stepbrother’s alien girlfriend. When he came back to life, he was able to feel only hatred, resentment, pain, solitude. He was not surprised when Bruce lost his temper with him, or more like with the man he had become and the decisions he made to do so: he had always been Jason Todd-not-Dick-Grayson. He grew up with that knowledge, he died with that regret.

He had a meltdown after waking up in the Lazarus pit, fooled around with Talia and tried to kill each one of his half-brothers, but he knew deep down how far his hatred was for Dick went, how he resented his caring smile the first time he saw him, as if he was dealing with a wounded animal who could be domesticated again. Time had gone by and Richard Grayson was the same as before, a total dick.

Things were bad those days, he had lost his family, the trust in them, his warm bed, Alfred’s amazing food to fill his stomach, hell, he’d even lost his life. It took him some time to readjust, but, step by step, day after day, he learned how to breathe again.

Jason thought about her more than what he dared to accept too, he might have even asked around for her whereabouts, but nobody knew and he didn’t pry because he was too proud to admit that maybe he was just an idiot trying to be that kid who fell hard for some alien girl that once smiled at him and, fuck if that smile was not the most amazing thing in this world.

After a life like Jason’s, you kind of get used to the bad news and then it’s the good ones that surprise you, like receiving a gift in Christmas eve from Alfred or having a dog come to you at the park or finding her after almost being killed, all glory curves, soft hair and big green eyes in some lost island. He was smitten after a few hours under her care, he truly felt like a silly boy, following her around, trying to catch a smile from her lips, a touch of her fingers. She was a goddess and him, well, he probably was just her pet.

It helped him being away from Gotham and the painful memories, but because all good things have to end, Kori was called back to meet with the Teen Titans after three months of living in this paradise. Jason knew what that meant, so he prepared himself for the worst because, really, she had always loved Dick, he was the love of her life and, truthfully, everybody preferred him over this broken version of the boy wonder―the silly Jason Todd who got himself killed by the Joker while Dick Grayson succeeded as Nightwing, the handsome protector of Blüdhaven, who also had an amazing ass.

He went back to Gotham, rented a filthy hotel room and tried to keep on breathing. She never talked to him and he didn’t wait for it. So, yeah, it was pretty amazing to suddenly come to his place and find her dressed in one of his old shirts while eating some takeout she had bought for him.

A thousand questions remained on his tongue as he pushed away the boxes of Thai food and unraveled her naked body from under his shirt. He spoke none because he didn’t want to hear the truth. Instead, he made love to her time after time until the fear crawling at his feet disappeared in between Kori’s thighs. He thought about that same silly boy who took himself in hand when he saw her for the first time, how he had wanted to kiss those lips and how different was the reality. He consoled himself with the fact that, even if tomorrow she went back to Dick’s arms, he would still have at least all these memories: her voice, the warmth of her body, the softness of her hair.

Kori didn’t left in the morning or for the next few months, she didn’t walk away when he decided to buy an apartment, she kept on sleeping on his chest until three months became a year and a half. Now they had a dog, pictures of them all around their house, underwear turned purple after some laundry problems and stuff like that, that made him smile at night while they chill and Netflix-ed.

It was by accident that he blurted out the question one night.

“Who would I choose?” Kori repeated, tilting her head in that adorable way she always did. He wanted to kiss her, but if he did, he’ll end up running away from his burst of bravery or stupidity.

“Yeah, between Dick and I.”

“Why would I need to choose?” Jason takes another drag of his cigarette until Kori takes it out of his mouth and turns it off against her own skin. “Why would I need to choose, Jason?”

“You love him, if he ever came back–.”

“I’d choose you.”

Jason thinks this is it, this is what coming to live really feels like. “Would you?”

“Why else would I be living with you?”

“‘Cause I’m great at sex?”

She hit him on the ribs before standing up to take away the pizza. “That’s just the second reason why.”

He smiled like a dumb puppy.

[deehollowaywrites]

Turf writing is one of the great formats. In the narrowest definition, it’s given us Maryjean Wall, Joe Hirsch, and of course the inimitable Joe Palmer; in the modern era, race fans enjoy journalism and color from Natalie Voss, David Hill, Teresa Genaro, and John Cherwa. More broadly, racing’s corner of sports nonfiction is home to the likes of Joe Drape, Jim Squires, Lawrence Scanlan, and Linda Carroll.

Why then is there such a dearth of diverse racing fiction?

Dick Francis cornered the crime-novel market in 1962 and rightfully so--his thrillers remain tight, humorous, often moving, and rich with detail. But let’s be real: homeboy was writing about British horse racing, an entirely different animal from the US sport, and even where the two dovetail, they generally differ in the particulars. Any new US fan would do well to read a few Francis titles and murmur in wonder that amateur steeplechasing is, apparently, a thing people do. When Francis died, his son took over the family business and (as is the norm with children trying to magnify or at least capitalize on their parents’ callings; see also Todd McCaffrey, Brian Herbert, and Christopher Tolkien) turned out some weak tea. Notably, he tried to do what his father never had: he wrote about US racing from the perspective of the Francis hero-detective Jeff Hinkley.

Triple Crown is not a good novel, y’all, and least of all a good racing thriller. I read and livetweeted it in unflattering terms last year.

Now I hear you saying, But Diana! You were a Weird Horse Girl and we know you read all the horse books! Don’t play like it’s some vast unending desert! Friends, the great horses of literature are, with one obvious exception, British if they’re Thoroughbreds (National Velvet, King of the Wind) or belonging to some other wonderful breed if they’re American (the rest of the Henry ouvre). The great outlier of US Thoroughbred literature is the eponymous middle-grade series created by Joanna Campbell. There was an interesting novel released five or so years ago, Lord of Misrule, that captured the wonders and vagaries of the racetrack. There are the continued successes of Felix-As-Dick Francis and Sasscer Hill, both of whom write thrillers; there’s Bev Pettersen, a Fern Michaels series or two, and a very few other options in romance, where cowboys still reign supreme. One of my favorite young adult novels, The Scorpio Races, is a gorgeous blend of fantasy and hot-blooded racing. The Sport of Kings, released last year, attempted a Great American Novel through the lens of Thoroughbred breeding. Whether it succeeded is a post for another time. Of fiction titles across genre released in recent years, racing personality Jason Beem’s Southbound comes closest to the sugarplum vision dancing in my head. It’s got larger-than-life track characters, plenty of deep-dive industry details, and a gambling addict protagonist, but at core it’s a story of personal crisis and growth.

Overall, though, horse literature and Thoroughbred stories specifically seem aimed at one of two audiences: Weird Horse Girls aged around 12 and gambling men of A Certain Age. Like horses and racing themselves, if you think about it. Publishing seems to have internalized the idea that horses are a thing you love when you’re a kid--most of the long-lasting horse stories are considered to be for children--and then grow out of, and racing belongs to a graying fanbase.

I could wish for a full-throated upswell of racing stories, a Lexington Renaissance if you will, but at the least I wish for the dynamics, peculiarities, and beautiful, strange details of turf writing to cross the divide to fiction. Duel for the Crown, for instance, elucidates the story of Affirmed and Alydar as a metaphor for the state of racing at that time: the tensions between old blood and young upstarts, the war being fought between limestone and bluegrass. Joe Drape’s books are always historical, political, cultural--whether obvious, as with Black Maestro, or subtler, in how American Pharoah is less the story of the first Triple Crown winner since Affirmed and more a roadmap of modern racing. Headless Horsemen reads like a thriller, and I’m likelier to give it a reread than reach for any of the current racetrack thrillers on the strength of Squires’ writing alone. Ride To Win, nominally a highlights reel of great jockeys, acts as style manual, poignant memoir, and understated exposé all in one.

There is no reason for genre fiction, the arenas of crime and romance where it’s easiest to find Thoroughbreds, to be badly written, lazily characterized, poorly conceived, or skimpy on reality. The realities of racing are far more exciting than anything an author could come up with on their own (I say this as someone invested in translating bonkers headlines into fiction). Racing, like every other sport, is an industry that should make for colorful, multicultural, tense drama in fiction--yet the offerings for fans seeking portrayal on the page remain milquetoast and outdated at best.

The reading public often looks askance at genre fans. Romance, crime, sci-fi, and anything else that can committed to mass-market paperback is rarely considered Real Literature. Similarly, in the grand scheme of American sports, horse racing is the spinster aunt you rarely see at family functions. It makes a certain amount of sense that literature about the sport would be corralled off, the way that--in the mode of St. Patrick’s Day, when suddenly everyone is Irish--only on the first weekend in May does the rest of the country pretend like they’ve always been interested. But horse racing is vivid, overtly political, composed not just of hockey-playing owners and celeb chefs but of immigrants with dreams, outsized personalities, hard-ass women, truly ugly history. Two minutes of racing can be run a thousand times over with a different story each time. The sport contains multitudes, the utmost heights and depths of American culture. Its conservatism, real and perceived, is at odds with its reality: the horse wins or it doesn’t, and there is nothing any of us can do about it.

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

asks (20)

@winchdean said: Hi. I'm sending you this message to ask to reblog my friend's post because her parents kicked her out for being gay and now she lost her job and she doesn't have money for meds, food and rent. Can you do that? Thank you! 

Sure thing! Here’s the donation post right here if any of y’all can help 

Anonymous said: Hey! I just, I've been so desperate I'm from Mexico but because of some papers I have to stay in US, I've been here for 6 months and it's not that much to hear but it feels like a year I haven't see my friends, i really miss my life and I feel like I need to talk without just texting, I'm really getting crazy I feel so angry and emotional But there's something I always question myself, am I right to feel this way? Or am I just been exaggerating?

I think it’s important to remember that the reality of a situation doesn’t always matter. If something hurts, if you feel bad, if you’re in pain, it doesn’t matter whether that should be true or not. That’s how you feel. You’re hurting, and you’re forced to deal with that. It makes the situation hard, no matter the reality of the thing.

But for the record? That does sound terrible, and I’m sorry you’re in that position. Let me know if I can help with anything <3

@fernandidilly-yo said: This might be a really stupid question, but I was wondering, is it canon that Damian goes to school, or is that fanon?

That one is fanon! Damian is homeschooled. He did attend Gotham Academy for about a week one time as part of a mission, but that’s the only school he’s ever gone to.

The homeschool thing has been repeated in multiple series, but I don’t really feel like tracking the other panels down just now. Here’s Damian getting expelled from GA though. Look at my boy being all noble

Anonymous said: Hi. I'm a new-big-fan of the batfamily and especially the realationships between the siblings! From what I've gathered Dick and Tim had a good brother run (pre52? I've no clue in the new52 or rebirth it's still very confusing to me) but as for now Dick has a very close relationship with Damian, which is great but I'm like what about Tim now? Are they still close? What's going on?

Ughhhhhhhhh okay here’s what happened. Yes, Tim and Dick were super close in the preboot, and that relationship was well-developed over decades of material. They were brothers, and even before that, Dick was a big part of Tim’s life-- Tim discovered Batman and Robin’s secret identities when he saw Dick as Robin execute the signature move of Haly’s Flying Graysons... which Tim recognized because he was in the crowd the night Dick’s parents died.

Tim spent years watching Dick and Bruce before he stepped forward, and when he did it was to talk to Dick. Dick was Tim’s childhood hero. They were extremely close.

But then came Scott Lobdell, one of the few writers I’m prepared to openly shit-talk around here. Lobdell wrote the n52 origin stories for both Jason and Tim. Both of them are terrible, horrible failures, but we’re going to limit ourselves to Tim’s right now. In Teen Titans #0 (n52), Lobdell completely rewrote Tim’s backstory, and one of the worst things he did was completely remove Dick from the equation. In Lobdell’s version, Tim never discovered Batman’s identity on his own, and he never knew Dick at all. 

Now this has presumably been retconned (I think) (please let it be retconned) by Rebirth, and there was an unpublished issue of n52 Nightwing that included the old version of their introduction, but in the n52 Tim and Dick’s relationship got screwed. Lobdell also decided that Tim’s closest sibling was Jason, which is.... wow oh boy that’s something else, and although Tim and Dick did interact every once in awhile, they never seemed particularly close. I will note, however, that emotional distance between the n52 Batfamily is pretty damn normal.

Anonymous said: WONDERWOMAN WAS SO GOOD

IT REALLY WAS I cried real tears when she stepped out of that trench..... it was just.... so majestic and wonderful

@almost-puzzlesme said: ERMAGHERD DID YOU SEE IT

I forgot to answer this message!!! I’m so sorry!!! Yes, I saw it, and I’ve been screaming about it ever since

Anonymous said: So apparently Jason is a role model and Dick is Damian's other dad. Thanks Rebirth.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

Anonymous said: Crap! How do I keep missing your giveaways by less than five minutes?!

Ah that’s really more my fault than yours :/// I used to do dignified giveaways where I gave everyone enough time to reblog the post and enter as many times as they wanted, but I got tired of keeping track of all of that. The way I do it now definitely rewards the people who are always online, which is an unfortunate bias

I hope you win eventually <3

Anonymous said: I don't need a plush I just wanted you to know you're very sweet for offering to make them :D

Oh thank you! You’re very sweet too

@arabian-batboy said: Thanks a lot for doing that request, I actually almost forgot that Jason would look older than Bruce last saw him, it makes me wonder if maybe one day some computer-person (maybe Tim?) close to Bruce would photoshop a pic of Jason to make him look as old as if he was still alive so that they would give it as a gift to Bruce and how Bruce would react to that (assuming this was before Jason came back)

Hmmmm that would be something I could see Bruce doing himself, but I’m not sure it would be a good idea for anyone else to spring on him. Bruce was pretty possessive of Jason’s memory while he was gone, and I don’t think he would react well to that particular surprise

@glorytommy said: This is a tumblr hug. 💕 (Send this to your ten favorite blogs)

@nightwinglover said: Thank you for existing. 💗 Send this to 10 people who you think deserve a sweet and kind message in their inbox ❤💛💚💙💜

@novelty--night said: Thank you for existing. 💗 Send this to 10 people who you think deserve a sweet and kind message in their inbox ❤💛💚💙💜

Thank y’all :)

Anonymous said: I was just thinking about your post about how Gotham thinks Damian killed Tim and I was sad because while Damian is probably outwardly like 'tch Drake's death just proves he truly was inferior' he's probably actually pretty messed up about it. And he hears the whispers and rumors and sees the glances at meetings and galas and regardless of his past attempts on Tim's life it still makes him a little sick to his stomach to know people believe he truly did murder him in cold blood just for money.

Right?? It would be super messed up for a couple reasons, the first being that Damian super did try to kill Tim that one time, so even though he wouldn’t try it now-- and that growth is very important in how he sees himself-- he can’t exactly claim the high ground on this particular accusation. Plus it can’t be easy to have thousands of people add to your grief by accusing you of murdering someone you love are related to

Anonymous said: Please bury me in your Jason Todd plushies. Thank you.

Have you considered the chance that those plushies might crawl out of your grave, as they once did themselves

Anonymous said: What do you think would happen next after your catatonic Jason fic? Do you think Bruce would realize he wasn't hallucinating? When he does dies he assume this is just a homeless not that looks too much like Jason? That fic killed me and I would love any other thoughts you have on it

Hm assuming that we’re maintaining the proper timeline, Bruce can’t realize that’s really Jason-- if he did, Jason wouldn’t have ended up with the League, and we’d be looking at a very different fallout. I suppose we’ll have to say that Bruce never did figure it out, which is only believable if that kind of thing happened to Bruce all the time. And I think it did. He saw Jason everywhere, and the first few times, he investigated. That might really be Jason, maybe he isn’t dead, maybe this isn’t in my head.... but all of those times, it wasn’t. Eventually, he accepted that, so by the time that story happened, he didn’t look too closely.

Anonymous said: but what /is/ the actual dignified wayne family motto when translated into english

Well I’m not getting any canon results for that one, and I don’t want to try to make one up, but here’s something I found for the historical surname “Wayne”

“Time and chance occurs for all”

That seems to be a variation of Ecclesiastes 9:11: I have seen something else under the sun: “The race is not to the swift or the battle to the strong, nor does food come to the wise or wealth to the brilliant or favor to the learned; but time and chance happen to them all.”

That would be King Solomon of Israel saying that victory is unpredictable; you can prepare as much as you want, but time and chance can give the battle to the person that should logically lose. That’s an amazing motto for the batfamily considering that Bruce’s #1 rule is “be prepared.” On the one hand, the passage seems to go against Bruce’s philosophy, but on the other, in the context of the superhero world, the batfamily usually is the one that should logically lose. I’m super willing to accept this motto.

Anonymous said: fellow college station resident here; I understand how you feel completely. sending good vibes for your drive tomorrow, and I wish you all the best

I made it home! I’m still really upset about leaving though :/// I’m not even moving that far away, but it’s a whole three years of my life ending, you know? And I’m going to miss my friends and my roommate and my apartment

Anonymous said: witch comics are you reading right now?

Ahh I’m super behind on everything right now, but all the batfamily titles and superman

@shewritestochangethefuture said: Hi there! Just wanted to let you know how much I adore your blog :) I just found it recently and have spent /hours/ looking through it already and liking all your headcanons/ original stories. Everything you write is absolutely /hilarious/, and so spot on with each and every characterization. The way you've put so much research into some of the requests/asks you get is honestly super impressive. Way to go! I'm such a big fan of this blog, thank you for sharing it with the rest of the world!!

This message made me so happy <3