#Red need a hug

[yxxndry]

 𝐆𝐥𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓.   In a timeline, Red lets herself learn to be loved and love inturn. And in another, she doesn’t. In both, she loses her noble Chole. But in this one, just this one, maybe she can save her noble Chole.

Chole is everything Red is not, she’s kind, sweet, optimistic, noble, and loving.

Red doesn’t know how to love, nor does she know what defines love.

What is love? 

What is love?

What is love?

What is love?

What is love?

What is love? 

What is love?

What is love?

What is love?

What is love?

What is love?

What defines love? Red couldn’t possibly know that, of course she couldn’t– she was never treated with gentle care or love.

It was always ‘do this’ ‘don’t say that’ ‘dress respectively’ and ‘Oh, Red, didn't I tell you to put something presentable on’.

When Red looked at her mother she saw the cold and judgmental eyes that always seemed to find something to criticise her about.

Red would often wonder what love felt like, what real love felt like. What it would feel like to learn how to love and how to love in return.

Of course, Red knew her mother loved her, even if she didn’t show it or criticised her about her attire. 

Red knew. But that didn’t help with the fact that she’d never felt it before, but Red saw, she observed, and she wondered, ‘is that really what love feels like?’

She wanted to fall in love, to experience the feeling of falling for someone and giving them her all. But her mother was cold and ruthless. 

‘’Love ain’t it.’’ she would say, dismissing Red with a wave her hand, and that would often leave her feeling trapped, caged in a world she didn’t ask for.

But Chole was different, she seemed to know all about love, and Red envied her for it. She wanted to know all about love too, she wanted to understand love too, she wanted to learn how to love too.

Just like Chole was taught. 

And so, one day as Chole ranted on and on about a guy she’d met in one of the classes in their dorm room. Red worked up the courage to say the one thing that always felt so unreal to her.

‘’And He smiled at me, Red! And oh my gosh was his smile so–’’

‘’What is love?’’ Chole paused at the suddenness of the question that was thrusted upon,  Chole was caught off guard for a moment as she poured the question.

She had more than one answer to, love was many things should teach Red.

‘’What do you mean?’’ 

‘’I mean, like, you know, falling in love, learning to be loved and love return…’’ Red trailed off, throwing the pocket watch in the air with a bored look on her face.

Chole stared at Red, her initial surprise fading into a thoughtful expression. The lightheartedness of their previous conversation dissolved into something deeper, more profound. Red's question wasn't just a passing curiosity; it was a yearning, a deep and unspoken need that had finally surfaced.

Chole sat up straighter, her fingers playing with the edge of her blanket as she considered how to answer. Red had always been a mystery to her—aloof, guarded, and cynical in ways Chole couldn't fully understand

. But this was the first time Red had asked something so vulnerable, so honest. It was as if Red was offering a glimpse into a part of herself that Chole had never seen before.

‘’Love…’’ Chole began slowly, choosing her words with care. ‘’Love is... complicated. It's not just one thing, you know? It's a feeling, sure, but it's also an action. It's... being there for someone, even when it's hard. It's wanting the best for them, even if it means you don't get what you want. It's... it's letting someone in, even when you're scared they'll see the parts of you that aren't so perfect.’’

Red caught the pocket watch with a deft hand, her eyes narrowing slightly as she listened. She still seemed unconvinced, skeptical even. Chole took a breath and continued.

‘’When you're in love, it’s like... you’re connected to someone in a way that goes beyond just liking them or thinking they’re attractive. It’s like... like they become a part of you, in a way. And you start to see the world through their eyes. Their happiness becomes your happiness. Their pain... well, that hurts you too. But it’s worth it, because love makes you feel alive, makes everything brighter, warmer.’’

Red looked away, her gaze distant as if she were trying to process Chole’s words.

She didn't seem entirely satisfied, but Chole could see she was thinking, really thinking, about what she'd said.

‘’But what if... you don’t know how to love? What if you’re... too broken, too messed up to be loved?’’ Red's voice was barely above a whisper, but the vulnerability in it was unmistakable.

Chole's heart ached for her friend. She reached out and placed a hand on Red's arm, gently squeezing. ‘’You’re not too broken, Red. No one is. Love isn’t about being perfect; it’s about finding someone who sees your flaws and still wants to be with you. Someone who loves you because of those flaws, not in spite of them. It’s okay to be scared, but you have to let yourself feel it, to take the risk. That’s the only way you’ll ever really know.’’

Red was silent, her expression unreadable as she absorbed Chole's words. Chole wasn’t sure if she’d gotten through to her, but she knew that this was a start.

A small crack in the wall that Red had built around herself, but a crack nonetheless.

‘’Maybe... maybe one day,’’ Red murmured, her voice tinged with uncertainty. ‘’Maybe one day, I’ll figure it out.’’

Chole smiled softly, a mixture of hope and sadness in her eyes. ‘’You will, Red. I believe in you.’’

Red gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, but Chole saw it. And for the first time, she felt like there was a chance—just a small one—that Red might one day learn to let herself be loved. To love in return.

As their conversation drifted back to lighter topics, Red felt the weight of the question still lingering in her mind. 

What is love?

 She didn’t have the answer yet, but maybe, with Chole by her side, she could start to figure it out.

[timmydraker]

CW: amputation

Tim was born with wings.

There were tiny at first, so small the doctors didn’t even notice. It was after a few months the little nubs became visible and as soon as they noticed, that was it. They were growing.

By two years old they were three times his size and he wasn’t allowed to leave the house. His parents own a medical company yet they couldn’t figure out how the hell such a deformity could ever exist. They hired very specific doctors to help them and forced them to sign NDA’s, though even if they did people would probably just think it was usual Gotham horse shit.

So, they cut them off.

At two years old his wings were removed and shut away in a box in the basement and after that, Tim Drake stopped being the happy little boy he was. His second year of life was spent in agony as the wounds healed and he learnt to walk again without the normal weight, and that slight discomfort and phantom pain didn’t leave even after he met Batman.

It got worse when he became Robin and knew he was hiding his two disgusting humerus bone nubs left protruding his middle back.

He manages to keep it hidden for several years, but it’s when he’s newly seventeen that he gets hit too bad. A grenade he managed to dodge the explosion from, but that knocked him off a roof and onto a railing.

It’s agony as he lands on his left and feels his ribs shatter and snap, but luckily he passes out and doesn’t feel much of it.

Unfortunately, that also means he can’t insist on doing his own medical assessment like he usually does and Alfred and Dick do it themself.

Alfred notices first and freezes, which makes Dick come over to see.

Neither of them have the chance to hide it from Bruce who surpassingly accepts it quickly and is instead crushed that his son didn’t trust him with such a vital part of he he is.

Tim tells them the real story when he wakes and admits that’s why he didn’t take his parents house after they died and just left it vacant, so he wouldn’t have to accidentally find the bones of his lost life.

When Jason and Dick go with him, Damian as well though he tries to say it’s because he’s bored when really he doesn’t want to be left out on his brothers new chapter.

As requested, Jason goes to find the box for him and he finds it after an hour of looking, only… the wings haven’t decayed.

They’re also moving.

[beif0ngs]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie

[tim-drake-scholar]

Hey idk if anyone else needed this but hey look at Bruce not just giving his approval, not just giving affection, but truly appreciating Tim Drake and everything Tim has every done to help Bruce/Batman. I just think it’s nice

[cooloperalawyerskeleton]

THE GREAT SAGE. EQUAL TO HEAVEN.

STARS AM I HAPPY TO FINALLY DO RENDERED VOICES LMK AU ART??? YES, I AM!!!!!!!!

(AND OH MY STARS I AM HAPPY FOR EVERY PERSON WHO COMMISSION ME, I LOVE Y'ALL SM)

[mistymisfit]

Can you please make an AK jason a-z nsfw alphabet please. The jason one was so good ❤️🎀

Sorry this took so long 😭😭��and tysm, i actually didn't think about writing an ak!jason version of this but really enjoyed it (once i got over my writer's block) I think all of them are GN, if not lmk and I'll edit it. Mentions of size difference in point X (i think). original version Minors and blank blogs DNI!!

Dirty A-Z headcanon game  

Btw these are all personal headcanons !!! And AK!Jason is waaaay more traumatized than comic Jason. Keep in mind that these are written thinking that reader's a civilian and there's a previous relationship to him being kidnapped as I don't see him trusting anyone new, or if he does, it takes him quite a long time to get to the point of sleeping with them.

A - Alone time (how do they get off when they’re all by themselves? do they watch porn, is it all in their imagination, do they jerk off, do they use toys?)

Let's start by saying this man has a lot of issues with intimacy and sexuality. He thinks those parts of himself are rotten, until he reunites with you. So if he does it's mostly to relieve stress or to chase the dopamine the brain releases, to feel good for at least a moment.

B - Bondage (do they like it? do they not? do they prefer to be the one being tied or the one doing the tying?)

Not to repeat myself, but there's absolutely no way in a million years he's letting himself be tied up. I don't hc him as being a "I suffered so you have to suffer too" with a romantic partner (Batman can go to hell idc) so his feelings on tying you up are pretty much the same, he went through a lot with joker so the sight would only bring back bad memories. After all, he still loves you, even if his way of showing it changed drastically when he came back.

C - Crying (is it a turn on? a turn off? do they cry during sex? have they cried during sex? what was the reason?)

There's no way he isn't crying-- and trying to hide it too. There's a lot of tears involved the first time you do it, what gets him to cry is how soft and gentle you are with him. You reassure him that you love him, you missed him, and that none of that should've happened to him. Your kindness is so foreign to him that he doesn't know what to do with himself, and when you kiss his tears away with your soft lips going over his marked cheek, he shortcuts. He equally wants you to stop and to keep being this gentle, he feels so conflicted that his quiet tears turn into full on sobbing on your shoulder. You were not surprised, in fact, you actually expected him to break down the first few times you got intimate.

D - Dominance (do they prefer to dominate, or be dominated? do they have experience as a Dom? Do they have a Dom that they trust already? What kind of things do they enjoy as/with their Dominant partner?)

He's had no control of his life for years, first following around Batman's orders, trying to be the perfect Robin. Then under Joker's torture. He's lost enough agency and control over his own body that I don't see him giving up any more of it. The most he can do is let you go on top, and even then, he's got a bruising hold on your hips.

E - Extra info (any other fetishes? feet? leather? role playing? blood? fantasies that they might want to experience not on this list?)

He gets a little jealous sometimes, not of other people looking or wanting your attention but of you. Jealous that you got to live a normal life, that your world kept spinning after he was gone. He gets rougher with you on those nights, trying to take out some of his anger.

Manhandling! He gets extra turned on to see how easily he can throw you around, and how much you trust him to not hurt you while doing it.

F - Food play (do they like using food in the bedroom? are there any foods they prefer to use during sex or foreplay? any they’d like to try?)

He's got a lot of hard nos, but I think this one is more of a soft no to him. You could ease him into it if you tried, but after being fed rotten and poisoned food, his relationship with food was severely scared as well. Mixing two things that stress him out (food and sex) is not a good combination. HOWEVER, as he gradually heals, he could let you convince him. In his mind the equation would be something like this: reader= safe so food+ reader= must be safe.

G - Group sex (would they have a threeway? four? an orgy? do they put on a show for spectators? or do they like to keep it just between them and their partner?)

Bro can't even look at himself in the mirror, and barely ever lets you look at his body (see point L). There's no way he's getting more people in the mix, he's got enough worrying about handling his intimacy issues with you. Besides, he said in the Arkham Knight genesis comic he does not share.

H - Humiliation (does degradation and insults get them hot? do they get off on humiliating someone else? what kind of humiliation is good for them?)

Insults do not get him off, for obvious reasons. He's had enough humiliation under Joker's hands to last for five lifetimes. And like I mentioned before, he's not "I suffered so you have too". Yes, you do yell at each other and argue quite often, which ends with name calling from both ends. But that's different, sex is an entirely different thing for him. It's a demonstration of his trust in you, that he loves you even if he can't say it.

I - Impact play (here’s where talking about things like spanking, paddles, canes, floggers and the like.)

I don't think he'd be into it. His relationship with you is something sacred to him, it's perhaps the only thing he got back from his old life, and that's why I think he's so against hurting you. He wants to keep you as separated from the violent aspects of his life as he can so he can at least try to hold onto some sense of normalcy.

J - Jelly (what kind of lube are they using? is it flavored? have they tasted it? do they prefer to use something other than real lube during sex?)

K - Kissing (what parts of their body do they like having kissed? what parts of their partner do they enjoy kissing? do they like leaving marks / having marks left on them?)

Likes forehead kisses, and also likes when you kiss his marked cheek, it proves him you're not scared of him or that you don't think he's a failure. Looooves kissing over your pulse points, staying a little longer to feel your heartbeat under him.

L - Lighting (are the lights on? off? do they have some kind of mood lighting set up?)

Off, he doesn't want to see his scars, doesn't want you to see them either. If the lights are on, then he's keeping most of his clothes on.

M - Masochism (do they like pain? scratching? biting? being bossed around? spoken down to? choked?)

No to all of the above, for reasons previously mentioned. But he's into putting a hand around your neck, doesn't choke you but you definitely feel the heavy weight of his hand. Does not complain if you end up scratching his back tho, I think his pain tolerance got so high that he probably wouldn't even feel it.

N - Not yet (orgasm delay? orgasm denial? do they tell their partner not to touch themselves for a certain amount of time or under certain circumstances? do they delay or deny other things like bathroom usage or food? do they need to beg first? do they like being denied / delayed?)

Would deny himself without even realizing what he's doing. I think it'd be a kind of subconscious self punishment. He'd put off his orgasm in favor of you feeling good until you're overstimulated.

O - Outdoor sex (have they ever done it in public? would they? where?)

Sorry, he's too traumatized to expose himself to situations like this, next.

P - Photography (are cameras allowed in the bedroom? do they send nudes? do they ask for nudes? would they ever record themselves having sex / being caught up in a sexual act?)

Not even with 20 years of healing would he allow this. HOWEVER, I'm a sucker for the "his helmet has a recording option" hc. I think that would be the only way of allowing himself to record these moments since it's from his pov and only gets to see you and not himself.

Q - Quiet please (what’s the volume like in the bedroom? are they quiet? do they scream? do they like a loud partner? do they prefer if their partner is more soft spoken?)

Extremely quiet, like you wouldn't know he's feeling anything if it wasn't for his occasional grunt or shaky breath. He endured torture and was forced to keep quiet in fear of it getting worse if he screamed, so it doesn't come naturally to him.

R - Routine (do they have a routine when it comes to picking up one night stands? do they have scheduled sex with their partner? are things spontaneous or planned ahead of time?)

I think it all depends on how low his self esteem is that day, and how intense his need for closeness and love is. At first, you never initiated it, too afraid to trigger him or make him uncomfortable, but he does not know how to say that he likes it when you seek him out first. He feels wanted, loved, and eventually you pick up on it.

S - Sleepy sex (do they give oral to wake their partner up? do they like receiving oral to wake up? do they like fucking their partner awake? being fucked awake? how about being fucked to sleep at night? do they have lazy morning sex?)

You know what... hell yeah...

He was already awake when you turned around in bed, he sighed a low "morning" with a raspy voice, and you responded by pressing a kiss to his lips. Neither of you knew how it turned into having a hand under each other's pants and then you giggling as he lazily thrusts into you. There's a lot of skin to skin contact, and the room is dark enough for him to feel comfortable taking all of his clothes off. He's still sleepy enough to let a little "i love you" out while you hold him in your arms.

T - Top or bottom (self explanatory…)

U - Underwear (what kind of underwear do they put on in the morning, if any at all… do they own any sexy underwear or lingerie?)

Jason truly does not care, he's got bigger problems and things to carry about lol. But you did jokingly ask him to buy you a cute set in his favorite color so you'd wear it for him, and while you didn't expect him to follow through, he did. You did hold up your part of the deal.

V - Voyeurism (do they like to watch, or are they more hands on? are they more of an exhibitionist?)

Has stalked you before reuniting with you, so he's definitely seen you take care of yourself, he probably feels ashamed of watching you like that, or watching you get dressed, but he'd never tell you about that. In terms of exhibitionism, the most he'd do is fuck you while the men he assigned to watch over you are outside the apartment you were in.

W - Water (pool sex? bath / shower sex? are they into watersports at all?)

I do think in my heart this man would benefit so much from some soft bath sex. Dim lights and a few candles lit nearby. He feels the ache in muscles fade a little, and he lets himself enjoy the intimacy of it. He'd melt at your hands washing his hair and the grime from his body, and then ofc you riding him lol.

X - X-dressing (do they crossdress as a part of teasing / foreplay? does crossdressing turn them on? turn their partner on? do they prefer to do it or watch their partner crossdress instead? do they use other costumes? cat ears, tails, etc?)

His helmet lowkey has cat ears... which could mean nothing...

Not crossdressing again but, the first few nights he took you with him and didn't give you time to bring much of your things so you had to sleep with one of his undershirts. You decided to ditch the pants since they were too big and uncomfortable. He stopped by to see you, and you stood rubbing your eyes on the door frame of your bedroom. A soft "Jay? is that you?" left your lips, and his eyes wandered over your figure. You were rubbing your eyes with one hand while the other pulled down the hem of the shirt for more coverage.

He was oddly relieved to find out he could still get hard that easily.

Y - Yes, Master (what kinds of names are used during sex? do they like being called master / mistress, daddy, etc…? what names do they call their partner?)

If you had any nicknames at all before he was kidnapped, you'd strictly call each other that during these moments. He's doing everything he can to grab onto that nostalgia from a time when it was simpler, when your relationship was simple. You didn't need to jump through hoops to understand him, and he could tell you what he felt and wanted. The familiarity helps the gears on his brain turn slower, he even feels time moves slower with you sometimes.

Z - Zones (what are their erogenous zones? what spots on their body should be touched, bitten, kissed, when someone wants to get them in the mood?)

Most of his body is covered almost all the time, so if you took one of his gloves off, or pulled his clothes to uncover some skin so you could kiss it, he'd die on the spot. What do you mean you want to see him? That you only want to kiss his skin, no matter how scarred or broken? You think he's worth kissing no matter what, and you mean that.

[amelia-yap]

it's april and they are bloody fools

[voiddaisy]

jason todd being a book nerd in canon is so funny to me. like mf is a violent vigilante but chows down some pride & prejudice on his off time. he is such a silly goose (homicidal maniac)

[kenobers]

tremble & shake | jason todd x sionis!reader

but first free palestine !! Jason doesn't show up for your hook-up. You don't think much of it until he comes barreling through his window in a distressed state. He's desperately in need of your comfort and you don't have a clue why, but you can't stand to see Jason Todd hurting. tw: angst, hurt/comfort, could be read as a panic attack, mental breakdown, slightly dubious attempts to initiate sex, non-sexual intimacy, uhh fear, self deprecating thoughts (i swear, one day i'll write something where neither you nor jason have anything bad to say about yourselves). jason todd needs a hug, reader was previously not very good with emotions. or empathy. fem!reader. a/n: happy batman day! here's jason crying <3 this comes after magic hands & is this love?

Slam.

You jolt awake from your sleep, immediately reaching for a blunt object. Blinking hard, you squint at the door. Jason's door.

That's right, you're in Jason's apartment for one of your regularly scheduled hook-ups. He hadn't shown up, his phone abandoned on his bedside table. You figured he must've had to patrol tonight and forgot to give you a heads up. However, it's been pouring rain all night, so you decided to stay. You must've fallen asleep waiting for him.

"Jason?-"

No sooner does the man's name leave your lips than he practically tackles you on the bed. He's still in his costume, the red bat on his chest heaving heavily. His red mouthpiece hides the bottom half of his face as he looks down at you from behind the white of his domino mask. He's absolutely drenched. Cold clings to him and sends a shiver down your spine.

You furrow your brow. Something's wrong.

"I thought you weren't patrolling tonight," you whisper. He says nothing.

Pursing your lips, you ran your hands along his bare forearms. He's shaking. He'd gone out without his jacket. Jason's tough, almost inhumanely so, but if he'd gone out without his jacket in this rain...he must've been in a hurry.

"Did something happen?" Your eyes search his unbroken skin for injuries. Still, he says nothing and the empty whites of his mask are starting to freak you out.

You push his wet hood back and comb your fingers through his soaked hair until they find the buckle of his mask. You undo it and pull the mask from his face, peeling the domino along with it. His expression underneath is just as blank, like his mind is somewhere else.

Before you can say anything, he's kissing you hard. Almost violently. A shaky hand grips your shoulder with a ferocity Jason hasn't previously had with you, even when you've really gone at it.

"Hey," you say between harsh, wet kisses. "Jason, stop."

As if he doesn't hear you, Jason moves to your neck. The hand on your shoulder drops to your hip.

"Jason."

It starts to paw underneath your satin hem.

"Jay!"

The fear in your voice makes his head snap up. He stares at you with wide eyes, like a deer in the headlights. You shake your head, "I don't want this. I don't think you want this."

He moves off of you, staring at his lap.

You sit up slowly, mirroring his position on his knees. Panic chews at your insides as you try to assess him. He needs help, needs comfort, maybe. You have no experience with comfort, no clue what to do. You can't do this, you're not the person he needs, this-

This isn't about you. The man that has been at your every beck and call for the past several months looks like he's fighting for his Goddamn life. You don't hate the possibility of making a fool of yourself as much as you hate the sight of seeing Jason Todd in pain.

Somewhere, in the very back of your mind, there's a vague memory of a hand cupping your cheek, wiping away your tears. You copy it, reaching out to him hesitantly, terrified of making things worse.

Your fingertips brush his cheek with an almost non-existent touch, just heavy enough to wipe away the remnants of rain. He leans into your touch and you take this as permission to hold his face in your trembling hands.

His own hands find your hips again, drawing you between his thighs as his head comes to rest in the crook of your shoulder.

"'just wanna feel you," he mumbles against your skin, making your shoulder vibrate.

"I'm not gonna fuck you like this," you card your other hand through his damp hair. "You're going to wake up and realize it wasn't what you needed."

He says nothing, but clutches you as close as he possibly can. You tense as he presses against you. His armor digs into you uncomfortably, the buckle of his holster poking at your thigh. Water from his soggy clothes seeps through your satin nightgown. The hand on his face begins to cramp at this bent angle.

You've never seen him like this. Neither of you ever really come to one another for comfort, sans the time he brought you pads. Or the other time he calmed you down from a fight with your father. Or came to your rescue when your friends got you greened out on some fucked up weed. Okay, so you come to him for comfort, but he is...much more reclusive about his emotions. Complaining to you, sure. He often pulls to your sessions pissed and fucks you until he felt better. Sometimes he's so hungry for your body that he doesn't speak, except to check in with you. This was neither of these things. But this would mark the first real emotional emergency of whatever this relationship is. This was sad, desperate. Fearful.

"Please," he breathes in a broken voice. You...relax.

Without thinking about it, you hug him. You run your hand between his shoulder blades, supporting the back of his head. You cradle him like he might break. The same way he holds you when he sleeps.

"Nothing's gonna hurt you. I'm not gonna let 'em," the memory in the back of your head says.

"It's okay," you soothe, pressing your lips to his wet curls, feeling them tickle your cheek. "I'm not gonna let anything hurt you. Nothing's gonna touch you here, Jaybird."

There's a slight shake of his head as he clings to fistfuls of your dress. Your stomach clenches at the thought of whatever was bad enough to puncture his mind like this. You pull back just enough to look at him. Only the bottom half of his face was visible. His lips quivered, silently forming "no" over and over again.

You momentarily retracted your hand from his back to rest your palm to his cheek.

"Baby, I don't know where your brain is telling you or what it's telling you is happening, but I swear to you, you're safe with me in your apartment. Nothing is coming for us, I won't let anything happen."

His breath shutters and he buries his face completely into your shoulder. You squeeze your arms around him, rocking the giant man back and forth. He defeatedly sags against you with a single sob. Your heart drops even further at the sound. You shush him gently, resting your chin on his head.

"It's okay, you're okay. You're here with me. I've got you, baby. I've got you."

The next however many minutes go on like this. You cradle him, praying he doesn't shatter in your lap. You coo any sweets words you can think of until the tension in his muscles eases at your touch. His weight grows heavier in your embrace. For a moment, you think he fell asleep.

"Jay?" You call out softly. He lifts his head and rests it against your forehead. His gaze is still lost in space, but at least they look exhausted. That's better than nothing.

His skin burns against icy hot yours. Sweat starts to replace the rain. He needs to sleep, but he needs to properly warm up first.

You frown, "Jay, you should take a shower. You'll catch a cold."

He tightens his grip on you, not eager to let you go. You tuck your hand under his jaw, "I'll come with you."

This is a good enough promise to sway him. He nods, reluctantly pulling away from you. You slip off the bed, then shyly grab his hand. He intertwines his fingers with your own and follows you into the bathroom. It hits you that this is the first time you've held hands. Under better circumstances, it would feel nice.

You eye him up and down, taking in the damage under the bright bathroom fluorescents. His cheeks are flushed and newly decorated with tear streaks, but otherwise, he really doesn't look hurt. Just incredibly lost. Like he's not quite sure where he is. Green irises burn holes in you, golden flecks incinerating your skin, as if he's trying to figure out if you're real. The gaze is so intense, you have to look away for a minute. You conveniently make note of how funny of his scuffed up black boots look compared to your pedicured toes, bare against the checkered tiles.

He needs to get out of his wet clothes.

Sliding your hands under the shoulders of his sleeveless hoodie, you ask, "Can I undress you?"

He blinks. You hold your breath, praying you didn't just trigger something else. Then, wordlessly, he nods. You let out the breath as inconspicuous as you can and make quick work of the damp hoodie. His shirt follows. All scars, bruises and beauty marks look present and accounted for. Nothing new in the inventory. 

It's when you tug his gloves off that you finally locate any kind of laceration. Pebble-like imprints litter his palms; he must've been clutching something concrete like a stress ball for hours. He hadn't bothered with his usual red wrist wraps either, another sign he'd left in a hurry.

You don't pry, however. Instead, you kiss his reddened palms. Then, as your father taught you to do, you turn his still trembling hands over in your steady ones and kiss each knuckle gently. Unlike his forehead, his skin here is frozen until warmed by your loving lips.

Something about this interaction seems to ground the man a little more. You kneel to untie a beat-up boot, reminiscing about how your father used to let you take his loafers off for him when you were little. However, you've only managed to undo the other knot when Jason stops you.

"I can get the rest."

You're thrilled to hear him speak and nearly pop a kiss on his lips like it's a gold star before thinking better of it. You leave him to it, redirecting your focus on turning the shower on and picking out two fresh towels.

When at last he's naked, you make to shed your own minimal clothing. However, Jason stops you yet again, with time with an unsure hand on your bicep. He takes a moment to simply examine you once more in the good lighting, this time letting his eyes wander from your face. A hint of adoration crosses his drained features as his gaze combs your body, lingering on the curves and swells highlighted in baby pink.

Jason's index hooks around the thin strap of your slip. His thumb skims along the satin material before caressing your collarbone. It's a classic Jason move, but now it feels more akin to the way a child might grip a blanket.

"...Can I?" It's the shyest you've ever heard him speak. You nod and he brushes either strap off your shoulders, watching as the item pools at your feet. You give him a moment to admire the matching pink thong underneath before it joins the fabric puddle on the floor.

The shower is quiet, save for the dulcet sound of the running faucet. Jason winces when the hot water stings his frigid skin, however you can physically see the tension in his muscles melt away. His shoulders are much more relaxed beneath your washcloth, the rise and fall of his chest is becoming less stagnant. You take turns washing each other, like it's some kind of game. You touch him tenderly, still gauging for any kind of pain. He touches you with an intent that doesn't meet his drained eyes, still just gauging you.

When the silence is broken after who knows how long, it's by Jason.

"I don't deserve you."

His voice cracks like a 15-year-old.

"Don't talk like that," you chastise. He doesn't elaborate as his hand continues to rub body scrub along your back. You turn to him, both of your hands finding his face and holding it in place, the way he loves to do to you. "Don't talk like that."

You don't know what else to say. Neither of you are wordsmiths. You're afraid if you try to keep him talking, he'll just be self-effacing. You don't think you could handle hearing him talk about himself that way, not with him being as stubborn as he is. So you press a soft kiss to his lips. It isn't long, it doesn't invite more, but when you pull away, there's more green in his eyes. He envelopes you into his chest and holds you there. You return the embrace without hesitation, arms sliding around his waist while water taps the tops of your heads. You think you could stay like this forever; wrapped in each other's arms under the sanctuary of warm water, as the sound of his heart beat lulls you somewhere far away from the world outside the fogged up glass.

You do stay like that until the shower runs treacherously cold. Until one of you has to shut the faucet off, until the other is swathing each of you in fluffy wine colored towels. It's just a series of tasks you wordlessly complete so you can earn the reward of collapsing into bed, just dry enough to avoid waking up to a still damp pillow. You're both too tired to be bothered with pajamas. You aren't sure you're so wiped. Maybe you're just desperate to hold your lover again. He seems to feel the same way as he wastes no time reaching for your waist once the comforter is pulled up.

He slides down to kiss your shoulder and appreciate the warm scent of your body scrub. Much to your surprise, his head stays there. Even more to your surprise, you find it's because his eyes have fluttered shut. Jason never beats you to sleep, even at his most tired. But the relaxed weight of his body on your tells you he's winning this round.

You stroke the nape of his neck, grazing your fingernails through the tapered patch of hair. You'd been so focused on everything else that hadn't even noticed he'd gotten the haircut you'd asked him to. The request had been a joke really, something snarky to remark when he'd said something too nice about your appearance. It looked good, even from this angle. He must've just gotten it today. He must've gotten it for you.

Not everything's about you.

You try to push the thought out of your head as you admire the way Jason's cheek is smushed against your chest. If you lingered on it, you'd just started ragging on yourself, making it even more about. Earlier tonight had been the first time may be ever that someone with the last name Sionis had dared to consider something might not be about them. But what, did you want a cookie or something? A key to the city for your basic empathy?

Jason's earth rattling snore yanks you from your tailspin. You giggle quietly, no wonder he waits to fall asleep second. Your fingers resume wandering their course through his hair and a tremor runs down his back. He lets out a satisfied snort, his red lips parting. With a deep breath, he nuzzles into you. His usually hardened face is the softest you've ever seen it. Even the scars seem to fade. It's the complete opposite of the stony picture you woke up to. Despite the circumstances, you wouldn't trade the world for the sight before you.

You smile drowsily, ready to follow his lead and doze off when your phone vibrates rudely on the bed stand. You swear mentally, first at yourself for jerking so suddenly, then at whoever the fuck just had to send you a notification right this very second. A string of potential threats crosses your mind as you clumsily reach for the phone, gritting your teeth at the awkward way you bend your arm. It isn't easy to reach when a 225 pound man is slumbering (thankfully) unperturbed on top of you.

It takes you a few seconds to recall how to read as you glare blearily at the too bright screen. Your eyebrows knit when a message from an unknown number at last comes into view.

'Is he okay?'

You inwardly rescind your threats. It doesn't take a genius detective to deduce the identity of the sender.

'He's okay. He's sleeping now.'

The reply is instant.

'That's good. Moderate case of fear toxin, it should wear off all together by the morning.'

Ah, that will do it. You frown at Jason. A sick feeling creeps in at the thought of how terrified he must've been. That's why he seemed so unsure of you; you weren't the only thing he was seeing. Your poor baby.

When you glance back at your phone, there's another text.

'Are you okay?'

You blink.

'Yes, thank you. We're all fine here.'

There is one more response before you shut off the phone.

'I'll check in in the morning. I'm glad he's with you. Get some sleep.'

You're glad he's with you too. You're glad he came to find you. You're glad he wanted your comfort.

You're glad you would do anything for this stupid boy.

Jason sighs into your now dry skin. For just this moment, he knows nothing but peace. You'll fight off anything else.

Finally, you succumb to your exhaustion, knowing better than to disobey the Bat. The last thought you have is how warm Jason is wrapped safely in your arms before dreams of his shit eating grin take over. 

[theghostoficarus]

DEEP DOWN...

WE ONLY CARE FOR OURSELVES

DEEP DOWN...

WE'RE LONELY DEMONS FROM HELL

(Wordless version bellow)

[strayswolf]

Jason slowly falling into a flashback gave this issue so much life and a greater purpose. They’re once again acknowledging harm Jason suffered at the hands of the Joker, and how he continues to deal with the mental scars left behind, an aspect that isn’t addressed enough in comics and is so appreciated here.

Also, the artistic decision to have Dick’s word bubble, “He’s taken too much from this family. We can’t let him take any more.” inlaid over introspective Jason was perfection.

Batman: Wayne Family Adventures, Season Three, Ep. 119, We’re Not Gonna Take It

[momomallowart]

Human curling iron + gamer who doesn't stop yapping ʕ⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴥ⁠ꈍ⁠ʔ

Here's a version without the text + a closeup too 🫶💗

[awful-and-sarcastic-official]

it’s the way that i feel physically nauseous whenever i remember they made this LITTLE GUY homeless like DC I AM COMING TO FIGHT YOU WITH MY BARE HANDS

[mikakuna]

this is one of the arkham knight audio files where jason kinda breaks down to barbara and it's SO SAD. the way his voice shakes and gets smaller like a child's when talking about what joker did to him gets me so bad :(

[randomasfuk]

idiot boyfriend

Jason x reader hurt/ comfort kind of ig I’m not the best writer

Reader has implied trama nothing all to specific though, some is this is a-bit slightly cliché ngtl

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

You stared at the note in your hand, not quite processing its contents. A mixture of emotions bubbled inside you, accompanied by millions of questions as you stared at the small piece of paper, only just understanding the words written on it. You crumpled it up and tossed it across the room. Anger. Complete rage. What the hell? Of all the ways he could’ve done this, a note? Did he really care so little about you that he couldn’t even give you the decency of an explanation? He couldn’t even grant you so much as a goodbye. Then, the tears came. You tried so desperately to hold them back. He didn’t care enough to tell you why he chose this, so why would you care enough to cry? Not that he could witness the response. But he had obviously cared about you—you saw it in the way he treated you, how he looked at you, how he noticed the little things: what you liked, what you didn’t, how he made sure to accommodate even your smallest preferences. He would go out of his way, break his own habits, just to please you. Even the slightest bit. You couldn’t help but wonder what you did for that to change, seemingly overnight. What had you done for him to choose to break up with you over a note?

Back to anger again. You knew you weren’t perfect, but he was hardly… well, a well-earned nap. How the hell could he do this? How could he have the gall to do it over a mere note, with absolutely no explanation? What had you done wrong? Anger, frustration, and sadness fought for control in your mind. You picked the note back up. It couldn’t have been bigger than a post-it, and it read: “I’m sorry but we’re over.” That was it. That was all you got from him after months of dating. He couldn’t even be bothered to see you in person. You had taken things slow with him, but you were so sure things were good—up until fifteen minutes ago, when you returned from work. He was practically living with you.

Pulling out your phone, you opened your messages—nothing from him. Without missing a beat, you started typing. You had no clue what to say, so you went with a basic: “WTF Jason, you could at least give me a reason,” only to realize he had blocked you.

It had been about three weeks since you received your now ex-boyfriend’s heartfelt breakup note. Walking home from work after a particularly late and stressful shift, the Gotham air hardly helped your frustration. Seething for a multitude of reasons, you were lost in your own head, distracted. Distracted enough not to notice the man creeping up behind you in the dark alleyway. Only when it was too late did you realise, and you hit the ground. A stinging sensation engulfed your elbow and leg as they scraped along the rough concrete. “FUCK!” you exclaimed, looking up at your attacker—a man in all black, with a Ruger LCP in his hand. You couldn’t help but scoff at how he appeared to be the most basic mugger ever.

“Money, phone, everything, hand it over,” he said quietly but demanding.

“How about you go fuck yourself?” you retorted. You weren’t a vigilante, but you knew a thing or two. You could handle this guy—he was short, his voice fairly high, and he had a mask covering the bottom of his face. He looked to be about fourteen, maybe. He looked taken aback by your response, but before he could say anything else, he was face-first on the ground. None other than Red Hood stood where the boy once was.

And you were pissed. Upon sight, you picked up a nearby stone and threw it at his helmet. It hit with a thud. He whipped his head around to look at you, but didn’t say a word before walking away, which only pissed you off more. You scrambled to your feet and yelled after him.

“What the actual fuck, Jason?”

He merely glanced at you before muttering, “Names.” His voice was deadpan.

“I don’t give a shit. Why would I? You didn’t care enough to give me so much as an explanation,” you spat back.

“Why would you give a shit anyway?” he asked in the same deadpan tone.

That caught you off guard. “Why would—WHAT? Because you are—were my boyfriend, Ja—Red Hood?” You stumbled over your words, slightly confused as to why he would think otherwise. You were affectionate in your relationship, which had always been encouraged by your very different lifestyles. Him being a vigilante and all, meant you’d had less-than-ideal amounts of time together.

You didn’t know what to do, how to feel.

“Why?” he spoke, his voice weak, quiet. You’d never heard him speak like that—so softly?

“Why what?” you questioned.

“Why… why was I your boyfriend?” His voice sounded the same as before—like he was unsure of what he was saying.

You found yourself unsure again. It was becoming the night’s theme, and it was really starting to get under your skin.

“Because I enjoy you,” you said.

He turned around to face you. “Elaborate,” he demanded, sounding more sure of himself this time. You took a moment, not knowing what to say. All you could think was, ‘I love you, dickhead.’

He opened his mouth, but you cut him off before he could speak. “I mean, I enjoy your humor, the way I can talk to you about whatever the hell I want, whenever I want, knowing you won’t judge me. I enjoy knowing that, despite how fucked up I am, you won’t judge me. I enjoy cuddling with you on the couch. I enjoy the way you act like you know how movies or shows are going to end, even though it’s really fucking obvious you don’t. I enjoy relaxing with you after you get back from patrol, the way you look at me, the way you organize the cups in the cupboard in a really specific way I can never remember until you do it again. I enjoy your presence, even when we’re not doing anything. I enjoy talking with you until ridiculous hours in the night, and I know I always say it annoys me, but I actually think it’s really cool when you come through the window. And I really, really enjoy the white streak in your hair.”

Jason remained silent, his mask preventing you from gauging his emotions. But you didn’t give him a chance to speak.

“You wanna leave me? Fine, I guess, but can you at least tell me why you left? What did I do? You can’t possibly think I didn’t care because I—” You paused, the words catching in your throat. “You know what? Forget it.”

You turned to walk away, but his voice stopped you.

“I love you,” he stated, definitively.

That shocked you. AGAIN.

“That’s why I broke up with you.”

You were stunned, to say the least. You took a breath to compose yourself. “Jason, that’s the single most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard in my life. And I’ve heard some stupid shit, so please, in your words, elaborate.”

It was his turn to be at a loss for words. He couldn’t fathom why you didn’t understand, and you couldn’t fathom his logic.

“Because I’m fucked up. I’m broken to shit. Like smash-a-vase-off-the-wall broken. And it’s only gonna get you hurt.”

You were still dumbfounded, but much less than before. You walked over to him until you were right in front of him, without thinking, looking up into where his eyes were. Although you couldn’t see them, tears were flowing down your cheeks now you never even noticed when they started.

You were right in-front of him now and he knew he shouldn’t, he should walk away. But instead, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in.

You rested your head on his shoulder, and he leaned his on yours.

“I know,” you whispered, “but you’re not as rough around the edges as you think. And I think it’s part of why we work. Because you’re broken, and so am I. Our little broken vase bits fit together really, really well.”

“Can we please stop using the vase analogy?” he laughed softly. “That’s one of the most cringey things I’ve ever said, as much as I meant it.”

Everything stopped for a moment—it was just the two of you. Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to truly feel the moment, which ended all too soon. Jason sighed into your hair.

“I just don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

“If you leave, you will,” you replied.

“Now, are we gonna keep hugging and arguing about this like idiots, or can I get my genius, stupid, funny, kind, idiotic, caring, amazing—did I say STUPID—boyfriend back?”

He pulled back, looking at you, and wiped a tear rolling down your cheek with his thumb.

“How could I say no to you?” he whispered.

[sarahcmarie]

I love thinking about the similarities In Tim and Damian

Both had mothers who although loved them were not meant to be parents

Both took up art Tim with photography and Damian with painting and drawing

Both feel a responsibility to be the best to be flawless

Both grew up in rich families

Even the way they took up robin

The title was given to them both by Alfred and dick

They both felt a responsibility and a duty to take up the mantle