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quadrantadvisor · 2 months ago

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Multiverse, Reverse Robins au, 2,514 words

Jason (Red Hood)

The imposters are good, Jason will give them that.

They need to work on their looks, unfortunately, because each one of them is a little off. Their Nightwing is too bulky, and his costume isn't made with Dick's flexibility in mind. Besides that, he's got an undercut that doesn't match the shaggy way Dick has his hair now, and his blue is too dark. And the swords. Those are different.

Their little Robin looks more like Dick, actually, Dick as he was before Jason's time, with his happy grin and his bright yellow cape. He doesn't match Damian's style at all, and Jason wonders if their intel was out of date. He tucks away his anger (the way he's used to doing, now) at these bastards roping some little kid into whatever con they're trying to pull. They can help the kid after they subdue him, and he stops trying to flip-kick people in the face.

The Red Robin outfit isn't bad, but the guy playing him is way too tall to be Tim. He doesn't use a bo staff, either, clearly preferring the armory of sharp little implements he keeps tucked away in his utility belt, including a wicked looking combat knife.

Which brings Jason to the current pain in his ass, the idiot trying to pass himself off as the Red Hood.

Yeah, they'd split off into pairs to fight. First off, for practicality's sake. Less risk of friendly fire if the only guy you're trying to punch is the one who isn't you. And secondly, it's just what you do, isn't it? Somebody gives you a set up like this, you go along with the poetic justice. No bat is immune to drama.

Jason is regretting that a bit, now. Fake Hood had taken him for a ride, leading him, he now realizes, far away from the warehouse where Nightwing and Robin had initially called in the disturbance. This other guy isn't the powerhouse that Jason is, but that doesn’t matter if Jason can't ever get in a hit. His movements are precise, deadly, and familiar in a way that makes Jason suspect League training. Jason is keeping up, but barely, and that's with the advantage of his guns. The other guy hasn't touched his, still gleaming red in his holsters, and Jason has a sneaking suspicion that they aren't filled with rubber bullets.

They're at a bit of a stalemate, standing on opposite sides of a dark rooftop, and Jason's trying to catch his breath but he can't relax, not when his gaze is locked onto his opponent, waiting for the minute twitch of muscle that will indicate his next move. He's wondering if he could get a shot off, wondering where to aim, when his comm crackles to life.

“Stand down!” Tim snaps in his ear. “Hood, Wing, the alternates aren't currently a threat. Deescalate however you can, and get back to the warehouse. We can explain this whole mess there.”

“Really?” Nightwing asks. He goes on to say something else, something about his doppleganger being incredibly threatening, thank you very much, but Jason stops listening, because there's something going on across the roof.

A mechanically distorted voice says, “What? No, I'd be able to tell. This guy isn't-” The imposter(?) cuts off suddenly, presumably listening to a response.

And then he… giggles.

“That isn't funny, Red,” he says, in contrast to the little peals of laughter making him subtly shake. “You- you get how fucked up that would be, don't you?”

Jason can't figure out what to do. Tim's intel is almost always good, but he can't get himself to stand down, not when, for some reason, that laughter is setting his teeth on fucking edge.

(He knows the reason. He'd know that cadence anywhere, he hears it in his fucking nightmares, but it isnt possible. He's in Arkham, right now, because Batman won't kill him and Jason isn't allowed to kill him and that uncomfortable truce is what got him his family back. Jason would know if he'd broken out, they wouldn't have kept that from him. They wouldn't.)

“Oh shit,” Tim says, and it makes Jason wonder how he knows, “Hood, is your alternate having some kind of fit right now?”

The sound escalates, from breathy little giggles to screeching laughter, and even with the hood's distortion, it's unmistakable.

It's the Joker's laugh.

It's the Joker.

And isn't this exactly some shit that Joker would pull, making a mockery of Jason's family, a twisted parody that fucks with his head? Tim's lying, he's trying to get Jason out of this situation, and Jason gets why, he does, but obviously the rest of them can't (won't) protect him from this, so if he has to take fate into his own hands, he will.

The green is creeping up, but Jason doesn't let it haze over his vision because he has to be in his right mind while he does this, not for them, for himself. As he stalks across the roof, he empties the clip from one of his guns and pulls out the live rounds, loads them into place.

He thinks Tim is calling for him, maybe the others, too, but the chatter over the comm is getting further away the closer he gets to his target. He should be smart, should take the shot, but maybe he's got more pit in his head than he wants to admit, because Joker, still laughing, pulls a knife, and Jason steps into his range to disarm him.

The strike is fast, but compared to the careful movements of before, he's practically telegraphing his actions. Jason sidesteps, and if the blade knicks him when he twists Joker's arm, he doesn't feel it. He's got the clown in a hold, now, and forces him to his knees with the gun against his temple.

If the hood is anything like his own, the bullet won't do it, not even at point blank range. Jason would like to get it off him, would like to see the life leave his eyes, but he doesn't have to. Jason moves the barrel beneath his chin, right where the armor ends. The pit rages inside of him, says this is too easy, says to make him suffer. Jason pushes it down. This is the compromise he'll make, this is what he'll do to try to maintain both his humanity and his peace of mind. The bullet will ricochet off the hood from the inside, will tear through Joker's brain at least twice, and he'll never come back from that, and Jason will finally be free.

It'll be easy.

This is too easy.

“Nothing to fucking say?” Jason growls, jostling the clown in his grip, because there's always some joke, some shitty twist.

The Joker just laughs.

“Unhand him this instant!” someone snaps, and Jason's finger twitches but somehow the trigger stays still. And now what's he supposed to do, because of course fucking Nightwing- but wait, that isn't- but it is, he's right there- it's both of them, two Nightwings. Fucking fantastic. Twice the guilt trip.

“Come on, Jay,” the Nightwing who's actually Dick pleads, and hey, what the fuck, codenames? In front of the fucking Joker, Dick? “Let him go, we can explain everything.”

“I'm not doing this again!” rips itself from Jason's throat, and he'll think later about just how wrecked he sounds. “I'm not just standing here and letting him go, Wing, not when one bullet can put a stop to all this, not when I can end him.”

“Jason,” Dick says, slow with forced calm, “that's not the Joker.”

“Don't you fucking lie to me!” Jason seethes.

His hand is wrenched to the side, the barrel facing open air, and before he can make a move the unfortunately familiar feeling of a high voltage shock courses through him.

By the time he's stopped seizing, Dick is at his back, supporting him with his own body and with arms under his pits and around his chest in a weird reverse hug. Technically, Jason's hands are free, but they're empty, the gun skidded to somewhere else across the roof.

Dick is murmuring into his ear, “Sorry, Little Wing, I'm so sorry,” and, “You're okay, you're okay, you're okay,” mantras meant to soothe his brother as much as himself. Jason wants to be angry, wants to snap at him to let go and fucking cut it out, but he's feeling strangely disoriented. He only has enough brainspace to pay attention to one thing, and that's the scene playing out in front of him.

Dick had clearly hauled them back a few steps, but Jason is still uncomfortably close to the bastard version of Nightwing (who, Jason realizes in hindsight, had tazed him while he'd been distracted by his brother, not cool) and the laughing maniac he should've killed. Nightwing is holding onto Joker's shoulders, his hands bouncing as the gasping, shrieking laughter continues.

“I'm going to remove your helmet now,” Nightwing says. He has a slight accent that Jason knows he's heard before, and his tone is professional, almost clipped. And yet, somehow, Jason can tell that this is a gentled version of the man's voice, the sharpest edges sanded away. His hands move from Joker's shoulders to the back of his head, carefully inputting whatever sequence allows for safe removal of the hood. Jason hears a hydraulic hiss when some sort of catch releases, and as Nightwing starts pulling the red metal up and away Jason can't help holding his breath.

At first, he sees what he expected to see. It's the Joker's expression, after all, his laughing face pulled into a rictus grin.

But the grin isn't right, somehow. The man is pale, but his face is unpainted, and the smile stretches wide, too wide, wider than even the Joker ever managed, and after a moment Jason recognizes the red, raised scar tissue on either side of his mouth for what it is.

Then, Jason takes in the actual features of the person in front of him. Dark hair, pale blue eyes, the cheeks, the jaw, the nose.

It doesn't make any fucking sense.

The Red Hood, collapsed on his knees in front of him, scarred face bare with no hood or domino to protect him as he struggles under the weight of his own laughter, is Tim Drake.

He's crying.

Jason is suddenly glad that Dick's holding him, because he's certain that he'd be on the ground, otherwise. Then, he realizes that he can't breathe.

Jason knows, logically, that his hood has sensors and filters that keep him safer than he could ever be without it. It is only every once in a while, when something stupid happens, that he regrets that he, a man with claustrophobia, decided to stick his head into a metal bucket.

Dick can probably tell that he's hyperventilating, and doesn't fight him as Jason gets his hands on the back of his neck and pulls off his hood.

Jason gasps in polluted Gotham air, and Tim's eyes snap onto him. Nightwing says, “I'm administering the emergency dose of your medication,” and then stalls, like he's waiting for a response, but all Tim does is laugh and stare. Jason stares back. He can't look away.

Nightwing retrieves a small tubular device, almost like an epipen, and presses it against Tim's leg. That shouldn't work. Tim's wearing body armor, same as the rest of them, and there's no way a needle could pierce it, but Jason looks as Nightwing draws the device away and there's a small raised circle of hard plastic on Tim's thigh that the head of the device fits into perfectly, like it was designed for that purpose. An injection spot, built into Tim's clothing, specifically for whatever drugs fake Nightwing just pumped into him.

Immediately, there's a difference. He doesn't stop laughing, or smiling that horrible fucking smile, but the manic tension is gone. He doesn't look like he'll shatter at a touch anymore, too brittle to be handled. The curve of his spine gentles, muscles no longer pulling it to the point of snapping. Jason watches as slowly, oh so slowly, Tim gets quieter, leans more into Nightwing's hold on him, starts gasping more than laughing.

Dick is talking behind him, into his comm, it sounds like. If it's important, someone will get his attention.

Finally, Tim breaks eye contact. “T- tell him,” he says to Nightwing, struggling between gasps and giggles, “tell him what you, gave me. Jay doesn't, he doesn't like, needles.”

The strange Nightwing turns his head, and Jason gets the impression of a sharp, searching gaze behind his domino. He's nothing like Dick, not at all, but something niggles the back of Jason's mind, some sense of familiarity regardless. He tosses something, and Jason automatically reaches up to catch it.

It's the empty tube of medication, which does seem a lot like an epipen, up close. “It's a combination,” the man says. “The antidote for Joker venom, an antipsychotic, and a mild sedative.”

“What the fuck?” Jason hears from his own mouth as he looks down at the innocuous little tube.

“It's only used in emergencies,” Nightwing adds, and does not clarify any further.

Jason doesn't know what to say to that. He shakes himself out of Dick's hold and grabs an evidence bag out of his jacket. He watches Nightwing, to see if he'll object, but he doesn't. Jason slips the medicine tube inside the bag and tucks it away.

“There you are!” Dick says in a bright tone, one meant to cover his anxiety and relief.

Jason turns, and finds that their roof has gotten a little crowded. All four Robins have arrived, his brothers mingled in with their copies, copies who don't quite match in ways that are now sticking in his brain. Tim, Jason's Tim, is standing right there, pressing his mask against his face like he'd broken the seal on the adhesive, and it isn't sticking quite right. Other than that, he's normal. He's fine.

The Robin, the one in the classic colors who Jason had thought looked a bit like Dick (oh God, could that be-?) gives a little whistle. “Trust Red Hood to cause drama!” he says in a bright tone that is too too familiar (fuck, fuck he is). “Must be a universal constant.” He grins, cheeky, looking past Jason.

Jason isn't processing fast enough to be offended for his own sake, but he turns and checks on Tim, other Tim, the Tim who apparently also has a claim to the Red Hood name. Tim is propped up on Nightwing's shoulder, looking drowsy and relaxed. He's looking back at Robin, and his lips are pressed tightly closed, but he's smiling, and it reaches his eyes.

Alright, then. This is probably fine.

Jason snorts, to get the kid's attention, and rolls his eyes. “Comes with the job description,” he snarks.

The kid lights up. Jason feels distinctly weird, having that smile directed at him, but it's not… bad.

Yeah. This is fine.

I'm planning to add a reblog with more information on this au/fic idea, so if you're interested, watch this space.

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katyspersonal · 4 months ago

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Wait for you to know that the hornsent npc was involved in the gruesome shaman/jars genocide , that information about him ( the description of his mask) shocked me tbh ...

Okay, first I didn't mind this ask because I am yet to have him drop his set in the game and there is time for everything, but today I woke up to someone else screaming this information at me so fdshfdsh I decided to check the descriptions and the character!

I have noticed that his mask looks like that of the guys whose asses I kicked in Bonny Village, just wasn't investigating. But here are the other things from his equipment:

His legs and arm piece are also exclusive to him! So, this is something I've concluded about it

1) All pieces of his clothes are exclusive to him, except for the mask, whereas Potentates enemies wear ONLY this mask! I'd say that the guy is wearing this mask for it's functionality: "to ward off thoughts of impurity, doubt, temptations, and other wickedness". So, him and Potentates are wearing it as sort of charm, although (and most likely) for different reasons! Hornsent guy wears it so nothing distracts him from revenge! Like... it is just a headwear they have in their culture, just that Potentates """need""" it the most.

2) He is not using their trademark cleaver weapon! Moreover, the description of his trademark weapon, Falx, makes it look like he only stepped on the path of murder to begin with specifically for revenge, rather than having already been wielding a weapon and doing a bit of rebranding!

3) He mentions Belurat and eating the soup from there long ago! (you can get scorpion soup from Grandam by talking to her while wearing Divine Beast's mask and then give it to him) His starting position is also in Gravesite Plains next to the archway that leads you there, which is very distant from Bonny Village. Bonny is a short walk away from the Shadow Keep while the Hornsent seems to be journeying to it, all the while he tracks Miquella's crosses (beginning of course from Gravesite Plains)

4) Bonny Village is just weirdly intact and doesn't show clear signs of Messmer's invasion. It more so resembles the abandoned villages in the Lands Between. The Hornsent, however, lost his mother, wife and child to the invaders.

5) From timeline standpoint, there likely were no more shamans left to butcher by the moment Messmer turned in and his family was burnt!

fjhhfdhds I mean headcanon what you like, I just personally can't agree less and this is my reasoning! Also:

I am taking my sweet time ok??????

#elden ring #hornsent #vengeance-seeking hornsent #(yay at least I finally have a right tag for him for archieving!)#ask replies #screenshots #elden ring observation #also a simpler/dumber explanation for the mask:#in bloodborne there is a character afflicted beggar obviously wearing rags because of his ailment #however assets used to resemble them are pieces from harrowed set and madmen set #it was obvious that they just used the most bandage-like assets to save time making new ones #yet people still thought there were some wild implications over his past over it #and like... sure whatever but it was occam's razor #at first I thought it was something similar but I lean more towards 'this mask first of all helps with focus'

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pupmon1 · 7 months ago

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So while I was making that edit I was talking with my partner, @princess-self-shipping, and I had a realization.

I was complaining that Mira and Isa have weird eyes. I was saying that "I could give them actual whites for their eyes but I'm lazy and don't wanna." Cy pointed out that they didn't with their color edits and while I was grumbling about weird cartoon eyes, they pointed out that it could be a Vaugardian main land trait.

Which got me thinking. We know fantasy genetics and fantasy ethnicities exist in this universe thanks to a certain bitch and her identity crisis. Odile says that some of her features are clearly Vaugardian, even if we only see the parts that make her Ka Buan.

But it means shared features might mean shared heritage. Isa and Mira both share the same eye type and bushy eyebrows.

Siffrin says they don't want to look at the king because he doesn't want to know what features are from his home...but I think I know a big one. I think I know one that we can compare with the only other bitch we have from the island.

Cat eyes. Both Loop and Siffrin have cat eyes. Yes I know about that deal but their eyes are different. Distinctly different. If they were the same it would give the game away maybe a little too early.

But they're still cat eyes. And cat eyes are not exclusive to those two. There are two other characters in this entire game that have cat shaped eyes.

One is Euphrasies. She already shares other traits with Siffrin, so many people already think she's a Northerner who moved to Dormont. It's not a far reach from there to say that cat eyes are a northern trait.

And the last? Someone else from the north of Vaugard. Someone else who doesn't quite look like Mira and Isa.

Someone else who has the same messy, slightly curly hair...the same cat eyes...the same expressions sometimes. Someone Siff seemed to get attached to really quickly...

Someone who's eyes sparkle with stars.

#isat #in stars and time #isat spoilers #isat bonnie #siffrin and Euphie are here too #but this isnt about them #implication im trying to get to: Bonnie is at least part Northern

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eigong · 5 days ago

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I think your two students are plotting against you

I'm too old for this

#nine sols shitpost #the implication here that eigong only knows how to kill people by kicking them off of cliffs is extremely funny to me by the way #''i don't want to do that it's too mean'' is the least Eigong sentence ever

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sunnibits · 8 months ago

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loving reminder as someone who struggles with food: you are allowed to add joy to your food. you are allowed to add a little joy even if it’s a tiny thing, something silly or something weird. you are allowed to do it whenever you want, as many times as you want. anything that makes food easier and more enjoyable for you is worth it!! it’s your food, you can decide what to do with it!! you can add rainbow sprinkles to your ice cream. you can cut your food into little heart shapes. you can pack your snacks into cute little bento boxes. it is not pointless or childish, it is an effective and active coping tool that you are allowed to use.

give yourself a little joy. the little things add up.

#even if it’s just a teeny tiny thing it’s sooo helpful to get just a little bit of excitement out of ur meal!!#you are allowed to do it!! if it’s ’pointless’ then what’s the point in denying yourself from it??#I’m being so serious like. put stickers on your air fryer. put your meals into cute containers even if you don’t need them.#cut your food up into little cute pieces if you have the spoons for it. buy yourself Dino nuggies.#try to have at least one thing to look forward to in every meal even if it’s just a little piece of candy #just!! change things up!! be self indulgent!!! you are worth it and anything that helps you be healthy is worth it!!!#there are no rules!!!! you are allowed to be kind to yourself!!#anyways. don’t mind my rambling. I’m just trying to romanticize my own struggles rn #and it’s genuinely been very interesting to learn what helps and how my brain works!!!#idk I just think about it a lot. it means a lot to me rn.#also before anyone tells me I piss on the poor. obviously my experiences are not universal and will not apply to everyone #things that work for me might not work for you and that’s ok!! I wish you luck I love u!!!#tw ed #just a teensy implication #gem don’t look #arfid

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muninnhuginn · 3 months ago

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I imagine the damianya crowd have probably been all over this months back but the way damian and anya both pursue stellas above all else to the point of putting themselves in situations they hate simply so they can impress their parents

#thankfully they're still encouraged to be kids by others around them but anya still has a much stronger support system overall #whilst damian is actively avoiding the rest of his family. which is... on a surface level it read as embarrassment but given the lengths #he went to in order to avoid them I think the implication is that it's more than that. jeeves seems fairly grounded tho at least.#I was literally reading his dialogue like jeeves from jeeves and wooster ngl (the 'forgive me sir' especially 🤣)#spy x family #sxf manga spoilers #(kinda)

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awakenedmaiden · 2 years ago

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"So be it."

Satori felt a mixture of frustration and disappointment but she tried not to show it. Making a change was not easy, all things considered. Still, she hadn't given up on the possibility. There had been times when she kept just as prickly of an exterior.

She gestured for the goddess to follow before starting to fly off towards her palace. Satori only hoped that the bit of distance between them would hide the gloomy expression on her face.

"Still, it will take time to arrive, so I will continue to trouble you with my speech. You may see us as ants but we are just as alive as any human. We have thoughts, feelings, relationships, goals. Our lives have value."

She paused for a moment as if debating whether to continue but then, after a moment of thought, did. For all she knew when they next met the Hakurei God would be killing her. She wanted to speak all that she desired now.

"You may think it hypocritical to say that life has value when we youkai often times are man eaters, I disagree. I recognize the value of every life I've taken. Each has had dreams. Each had someone that loved them. I know that because I read their minds. I recognize what I have snuffed out and ... sometimes I weep over it. There are times where I stay up late at night, my room sealed, crying over what I have done.

In my youth, when I was less experienced, before I had even set foot in the underground ... I hated myself for it. Sometimes I questioned why I should live. Is it fair that I, a creature that must sometimes subsist off the lives of other thinking beings, should kill? Anytime I've done it, anytime I've actually killed, I've had to to continue living. But in such a case, am I not just saying my own life matters more than the ones I take?

I grappled with that thought for a long time. Eventually, I came to a conclusion I could accept. I had to accept it because I had to live. I only killed for such a reason. I've never killed out of malice, only because I was born into a life that requires me to do so. To remember their thoughts, to remember they have had lives of their own, it still hurts. It's still painful. Yet, it is a pain I can bare to carry. Am I an evil monster for killing? Oh, without a doubt, yet I can still take solace that it was a necessity to live.

I'm telling you all this because ... well. Because I can't imagine wiping all youkai from the world. Pardon my strong language but its disgusting and horrendous to erase so many individual lives. To destroy a land full of youkai with their own hopes and dreams. Their own goals. Their own families. Their own love. And it disgusts me more than you consider doing this when you don't need it. You do not plan to end our existence, to stomp out our dreams, because you must survive. You are doing it because you hate us. Because even my attempts to show you kindness fill you with disgust.

The knowledge that you've killed all of us. That you've committed a genocide, it would follow you forever. There's two possibilities either it will hang over you, to haunt and hurt you forever, or you will feel nothing over ending all our lives. If it's the second you will be the greatest monster of all Gensokyo, but ... personally I hope you aren't. Reimu is sweet, even if she acts prickly, she's saved our world countless times. I don't want her god to be a monster."

Satori had talked for quite a while. In truth, she doubted the woman actually listened to much of it but she nonetheless hoped that she did. That at least some small semblance of the point she wanted to make got through to her. If not. Well. At least she finally got her own feelings of self loathing off of her chest before she died. Which would likely be coming quickly.

They were almost at the palace now. Close enough that Satori could see the doors. The balcony where she often took her tea. The kasha playing around the front steps. There was still, however, a slight bit more she wanted to say. Now, for the first time since she took off, Satori looked back towards the Hakurei God.

"But if you do kill us all or, if for some reason, you can make things right and find happiness by killing me. Remove your mask before you do it, oh god. I refuse to die staring at a cold empty mask."

"Mere cloth would not protect you from my Touch, Youkai. And I do not make deals with false fantasies."

"Now..."

"Do not keep me waiting forever, and do not trouble me with your presumptions any longer. My patience is already wearing thin." Regardless of Satori's feelings on the matter, the Hakurei god's stance was clear- She wasn't at all keen on fraternizing with Satori as an equal, but observing her as someone might observe a colony of ants. And Satori's repeated proddings had left her feeling only more disgusted.

#foul baneberry ~ satori #muse matrix #Lowkey sorta kind got a bit sad writing part of this #tw: suicidal thoughts #Or at least implications of them

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