#how it’s masked or displayed

[obstinaterixatrix]

I really like romances that highlights a complex relationship with desire. what’s that one quote. found it, it’s the siken quote that goes “the enormity of my desire disgusts me” and “there’s only one thing I want, don’t make me say it” LOVE that. it’s so fun. denial and repression and self-loathing! some of my favorite ingredients for a romance.

[tbcanary]

one thing that did stand out to me while i was going back through cry for blood is how often we don't get to see helena's face.

it's a little thing, but there are so many panels -- especially when she's just received news of something, or is in emotional turmoil -- where she hides herself. she turns away, she bows her head. it's interesting, particularly because comics do so often show us those big dramatic facial expressions. but helena curls inward when upset. i think about these two panels a lot:

there's a note from stephanie hans in the backmatter of an issue of die that i think of -- about how in comics, how much space something takes up indicates how important it is -- and yet, somehow, whenever some new information comes up, helena makes herself small, minimizes her own emotional displays.

now, given, she does hold herself in a very particular way as a default state. head tilted down, no eye contact, etc:

but that's exaggerated when she's upset. often, she even takes the pose of a prayer. like the specific thing i'm referring to is either sitting with her head bent toward her clasped hands as if she's praying, or turned away toward a window or mirror that frames her like an altar. like so:

there is, in fact, an entire page where we don't see her face. while she's recuperating after all of the drama of the first half of the arc, she won't look anyone in the eye at all. instead, the framing moves around her and shows her, bent forward and hidden, from different angles:

i just think it's a nice little touch. a good display of who she is and how she responds to troubling situations, which makes perfect sense given what we learn about her during this arc. like, you know, if you're always at least somewhat at someone else's mercy -- be it batman, the other families, the people training her -- you'll want to minimize the outbursts and hide vulnerabilities, and she has a specific way of doing that. it often resembles prayer, because of course it does. she doesn't compare herself to a nun for nothing.

also, for a fun (?) bonus. this doesn't happen as often in the huntress costume… unless she's confronted with family. and then it creeps right back in:

anyway. helena bertinelli i care you.

[thespacesay]

hey!

if you, your child, or anyone you know and plan to hang out with are coughing/sneezing rn... please consider NOT going to a public place like a cafe! or, send the healthy one inside MASKED.

baristas and line cooks and register workers and servers and all service workers are PEOPLE WHO CAN AND DO GET SICK.

- sincerely, a cafe worker who is immunocompromised, needs to be healthy for an upcoming procedure, and whose coworkers pretty much are all sharing a flu

[al-luviec]

still haven't moved on from zane in this episode (aka I hit tag limit again and am unhappy about it)

[dino--draws]

once again plagued by Admonition lore details and currently its the recently-ish-deduced-in-canonexus "MAGIC DRAWER's destinations were chosen by PHMD and one of those is Paraline, meaning that he intentionally causes the Paradox" and this is FUCKING ME UP. 7243 is full of paradoxes and its a Whole Thing that Dougall does not realize he's in a causal loop/bootstrap paradox w/ causing Phillip's death until That Exact Moment Comes when MAGIC DRAWER targets Admoline so assumedly it went the same way for PHMD having to target Paraline and like. how tf did PHMD react to realizing that? To learning this is his fault? Was it resignment, like Dougall? was it despair? anger? all three at once? are we just speed running the five stages of grief in the time it takes to throw a lever?

GOD I need to fucking know what's going on behind this mans eyes HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT ANY OF THIS????? THIS FUCKING CHARACTER MAN I AM UNWELL.

[lesbiansanemi]

I hate when I’ll be complaining about some stupid bullshit a coworker does to other coworkers and half the time their response is to lower their voice and go “well…. You know…. I’m pretty sure they’re… on the spectrum, you know?” And every time I have a split second when I have to consider saying “you know I’m autistic, right?” just to make them vaguely uncomfortable for a few minutes and actually think about what they’re implying but of course I do not do that because the gratification is not worth a large sect of shitty coworkers knowing that about me and then talking about me like that every time I do something vaguely annoying or dumb but man…. It does get tempting sometimes

[panncakes]

FAVOURITE MTYL SCENES (in no particular order):

“I’m not his friend. I'm his den--”

[britishchick09]

cest_lefantome's amazing phantom book collection! :D

[vesperione]

I fear I’m starting to see a type in the Living Dead Dolls I collect. A black/red/white themed doll with Mary Janes and a minimum of one accessory.

[nerosdayinanime]

reminiscing about a life left behind

this is after the reunion at the bar, when Giyuu left Makomo tried to talk to him & figure out why he faked his death (then came back??) and left pretty soon after when he not so subtly brushed off her questions and vaguely apologized for disrupting things. Tengen & Kyojuro got extremely worried about him immediately ordering as many drinks he could at a time and being his usual happy-go-lucky self after Giyuu- the quietest and least confrontational person in the whole office -sent him to the floor in a fit of cold rage. They watched (and joined, though not to the same extent) as he got absolutely wasted, his suddenly saccharine attitude showing off just how much of his personality is just a performance.

Between the revelation that hes a demon slayer- a hashira just like them -and finally noticing the seam in his otherwise perfect mask, the both of them figure he's just as fucked up as they are from their job. Tengen has his own guise of extravagance, Kyojuro always being loud and proud to hide his insecurities- but Sabito was subtle about it. He was happy and playful, but not too much so like Kyojuro was- he also became a master of diverting attention from himself, they didn't know much about his personal life or hobbies- or anything outside of when they hung out or stopped by the little grocery store he worked at. Didn't know his favorite color, what genre of music he liked, what his favorite movie was- didn't know if he's ever had a partner or other friends, nothing about his school life or parents or if he had any siblings- nothing! He was a ghost of a person, like he merely popped into existence when they met him. That's probably not too far off- they didn't meet Sabito that day, they met his empty smile. Without ever realizing there was nothing behind it.

Thoroughly disconcerted by the realization and very worried about Sabito chugging alcohol like he had nothing left to live for while laughing like there was nothing wrong, they kept a close eye on him. When he starts getting quiet they force him to stop drinking and drag him back to his apartment and stay the night crashed on the couch & floor. In the morning Sabito was fucked. Absolute shit time. Had a vague feeling he shouldn't think about anything so he didn't, just fucked around with a worried Tengen & Kyojuro until they left. Continued not thinking about anything, did a bunch of chores and errands so he didn't have to think about Giyuu. Even fixed a neighbor's ac unit with the help of a youtube tutorial. As soon as the sun started setting he donned his slayer uniform and ignored painful sting in his heart at the sight of his old fox mask hanging on the wall, settling his face into the same empty smile as the default slayer mask he uses now. That night he was a beast- merciless and scathing strikes, chasing down terrified demons like he had a score to settle. Completely ignored other slayers he ran into, simply pushing past them dealing the kill and moving on.

This little routine continued for a few days- overworking himself desperately trying to keep out of his head, deflecting and straight up ignoring Tengen & Kyojuro asking about how he's doing, fleeing any of the other hashira or water-fox squad trying to ask about him and what all he's been doing the last several years, pissing off lower-level slayers he steals kills from. He works until he passes out from exhaustion, getting up and doing all it again when he wakes. A few weeks later and it catches up to him despite his attempts at running.

Giyuu hates him.

Rightfully so, he left him to burn like a coward and a fool. And did what with his time? Do nothing but make more mistakes? How many people hes lied to and let down? He's done nothing but run.

He knew it'd happen. As soon as he stopped moving he would never want to start again, as soon as he stopped running, as soon as he tripped- as soon as he hit the ground he'd never want to get up again. Years of grief stress and denial hit him all at once, he doesn't know what to do. Walls too high to see over, too deep to dig under, too thick to simply power through. No one on the other side who really needs him anyway.

Why does he even bother?

He stares at his fox mask. Hand crafted by the man he thought of as a father, who took him in and taught him to defend himself and protect others. Real good job he did of that. All he's done since he started running was hurt hurt hurt. The people he cared about and respected the most- abandoned. Everyone else left in the dust like they were nothing.

What fucking good..

...

He thinks of the better days. When he was a son, helping his mom water the plants so they'd bloom bright and vivid. When he was a brother, helping his little sister reach the top shelf for candy. When he was a student, fueled by his grief and anger with a promise not to let anyone else lose as much as he had. When he was a friend, pulling Giyuu out to see a meteor shower in their favorite clearing. When he was a boyfriend, feeding popcorn to Giyuu laying across his legs watching a movie together. ...He threw that all away and for what? So he wouldn't have to face his failures? How fucking pathetic.

He'd never have any of that again. Burned his bridges, destroyed the foundations, turned the ground to shifting sand. His head thunked against the wall behind him, why did he have to fuck everything up?

[transingthoseformers]

Okay but why are these addictive

I have stories (...ish) for these ones though!

The silver one, when i made it (a few days ago), was supposed to refer to a completely neutral organization?

Ohhh the second one, oh the second has more. So I entirely 100% based it on a hypothetical alien species's face, definitely technoorganic or full stop organic (though technoorganics in general fascinate me in Transformers, and it'd be super cool to see some who truly look nothing like earth animals). Now, those in my mind aren't wings. No, think mandibles. Think the Chelicerate from Subnautica Below Zero (Legit the design idea of something having more than a top haw and a bottom jaw is fun). Now my thought process was "so what if a new faction rose from nowhere, having grown and festered in some quiet part of the universe enough that it threatened to tear a warpath through the Milky Way Galaxy?" Extra points if they actually had full on assimilated a few dwarf galaxies, so they're full on an actual threat.

[seefasters]

im having. so much trouble deciding what montrose's mask should look like

[gritty-big-naturals]

who wants to go to the met museum and yell about stolen indigenous art with me bc WEW i’m heated

[dullahandyke]

No but for real envision with me. Metis's Noh mask. Explodes

[jsdimensions]

People seemed to like my voice orb so have them screaming loud enough to break glass (hence the cracked mask visor)

I wanted to draw with my markers for the first time in I think a year??? So here's this

[mostly-imagines]

La Vie En Rose

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason wildly preferring you over everyone else

4 in 1 blurbs

warnings: standard batfam arguing etc.

You sit curled up embarrassingly close to Jason on the couch, head on his shoulder. The team is still in their gear as they filter into the living room, masks and helmets discarded in scattered locations between here and the cave. The mission had been fairly simple and with all of them together it only took a couple hours to finish up.

As you waited, Alfred had kept your mind busy in the kitchen while he taught you how he makes his famous ice cream from scratch.

The clamor of the heroic party’s return had made itself known sooner than later, and you think your face must have displayed your emotions nicely because Alfred nodded you away with a small smile and no second thought.

You’d walked into the living room, weaving through the mess of siblings until a hand snuck out on your left and grabbed your wrist. You barely had time to look at him before Jason pulled you down to sit next him on the sofa. He wrapped an arm over your shoulder, pulling you in and leaving virtually no space between you. His armor sits heavy against you, but a welcome weight on your shoulders.

Tim plops down on the couch across from you and you can just make out a bit of blood on the side of his head, aptly accompanied by an irritated look sprawled across his face. It’s not enough blood to be concerned about—not for them—but you can venture a guess that whatever they were up to shouldn’t have called for any injuries and his pique is likely directly related to that.

Though Dick’s goading aura might have something to do with it too, as he comes crashing down next to him a second later, partially sitting on Tim’s cape and pulling him into an awkward angle. 

Nightwing doesn’t seem too perturbed by the younger vigilante’s agitation and curt manner of pushing him off.

The others are too caught up in chatter to pay much attention to you, and you can be certain that’s why Jason takes that moment to press a kiss to the side of your head. He lets his lips linger there for just a second as you lean into him.

Alfred’s own entrance is the only thing able to subside the flurry of conversations skirting around the room.

“A job well done,” he commends with a nod. “A selection of ice creams awaits you in the kitchen.”

He gives you a sly wink before retreating back through the swinging door, leaving Stephanie and Cass to practically trip over themselves trying to beat each other to the kitchen. Robin follows after unhurried, mask still on, with his hands behind his back.

Jason kneads your thigh before pushing himself up to stand. He turns back, looking down to you. “What do you want?” he asks softly.

You hum, "Just strawberry's good."

Tim sits up, "Can I—”

"No, you've got legs,” Jason grumbles, stalking off to the kitchen.

Dick barks out a laugh and you bite back a smile.

Tim looks absolutely aghast. 

“That’s such bullshit. You know, he used to be nice.”

“No he didn’t,” Dick laughs, shaking his head. “Not since you’ve known him.”

Stephanie stumbles out of the kitchen then, the door hitting her back on the way, as she mutters a curse behind her. You can vaguely makeout Jason grunting something back before she rolls her eyes.

Steph looks at you, shaking her head as she returns to her seat, “You live like this?”

You shrug, “He’s nice to me.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Tim grumbles.

Jason returns after Cass a minute later with a bowl of strawberry ice cream and two spoons. He expertly ignores Tim’s unwavering glare as he resituates himself beside you.

He scoops your legs up over his lap and positions the bowl in between you, wrapping the sleeve of his jacket around it so that the cold porcelain doesn’t make contact with your skin.

The others have set themselves up so that the four of them are stuffed up against each other on the sofa adjacent to you, very obviously examining you both. 

And while you’re willing to acknowledge the amused stares and singular glare, Jason only sighs heavily, rolling his eyes as he glares at the coffee table.

Only a few seconds of this are allowed to go by before he pulls over a throw pillow and sets it over your knees, so that it rests atop your heads like a mini-fort, successfully blocking out his siblings' view of the two of you.

You smile and press a light kiss to his shoulder as he simmers.

Regrettably, you miss the way Damian side-eyes the pillow above you as he re-enters the room, perching himself atop the back of the couch behind the others.

“This is so nice,” Dick preens. “He used to just leave the room when too many of us gathered in one place. Now he has to stay.”

Stephanie watches the makeshift fort with wary eyes, scooping ice cream into her mouth. “Yeah…I don’t wanna freak you guys out but, uh…”

It’s quiet for a moment and you guess Cass is speaking. 

You’re proven right when Stephanie starts up again, “My thoughts exactly.” Her voice drops into a raspy whisper that isn’t really meant to go unheard, “I don’t know who the hell that is, but it is not Jason.” 

“This is unprecedented,” Damian mumbles, dipping into his own chocolate cup.

“Do they always talk about you like you’re not here?” you ask Jason quietly. 

“Yes,” he grumbles with a scornful look directed at the bowl.

A low hiss can be heard immediately after, “I’ve never heard him whisper before, what the fuck?”

You can’t hide your laugh as well as you mean to, but you know Jason’s light swat to your thigh is nothing more than a rib.

Mumbles continue along the other couch, mostly going unacknowledged, until Tim busts out, “He doesn’t even like strawberry!”

Jason snaps the pillow out of the way, “The fuck do you know about what I like?”

Tim resets his posture with one hell of an attitude, snarking, “Well I can name one thing you really seem to fucking—”

Jason grabs the pillow harshly and chucks it at Tims head which connects with a loud thwack.

Damian swats it away before it can knock him off balance, though his scowl is only half worth what Tim’s is. 

“You’re unbelievable,” he says with a sneer. “This is why you don’t get invited to movie night anymore.”

Jason doubles back at him, “Sorry, is this not your own fucking house?”

Tim huffs, “Yes, which i—”

“Then get your own goddamn ice cream!”

Tim huffs as he stands, sending Jason a pointed look. “I’m going because I want to.”

Jason barely gives him a sardonic nod as he stomps off.

“Get me some too!” Dick calls back, only for the back of his head to be met with a sideways grimace from Tim.

As he leaves, the focus of the room seems to shift towards Damian dripping chocolate onto his cape and it fades away from there.

You turn to Jason, lowering your voice to just below a whisper, “If you don’t like strawberry—”

“I like it,” he tells you, leaving no room to argue as he takes a bite.

Voicemail. 

Voicemail.

Voicemail. 

Voicemail.

Declined.

Voicemail.

Declined.

Declined. 

“I swear to God, he better be dead,” Stephanie mutters to herself.

She shuts her phone off and tosses it into the passenger seat with a huff. Her fingers drum against the steering wheel as she scans the sidewalk across from her car.

The night before the majority of the team had been involved in a less-than-successful plan, which some have called “a display of complete idiocy and inability to circumspect.”

Then Tim had to go and make a joke about that word choice in what was apparently a bad moment. This gave way to a harsher punishment of the team being forced to clean the batcave foot by square foot—notably, an impossible task.

So naturally, they had to retaliate.

The plan was to dismantle the batmobile piece by piece and leave it a collection of parts for Bruce to find. Problem being, the group as it stood didn’t possess the capability to do so without doing a great deal of damage to the parts. Damage, that the family was not willing to face extra retribution for.

Fortunately, they knew just the man for the job. 

Unfortunately, said man has devoted his life to ignoring their messages, favoring to live peacefully and distantly from them. And because that peace and distance does come with an add-on of borderline complete secrecy from his family, no one had any idea where to look for him.

So, Stephanie decided to do the next most rational thing and track down your location. She’d hoped he would be with you like he always is, but for seemingly the first time in the last year—he’s nowhere to be found.

Now, was revenge for a minor-slight by Bruce so important that it required Stephanie to take all of these steps to get a hold of Jason? No, absolutely not. She’s pretty sure that the others have already given up on it by now and started cleaning. But it’s about the principal. And also, she does not want to clean the floors of a cave.

She jumps up in her seat when she spots you exiting a store, scurrying to unbuckle and pry the car door open.

She’s across the street in half a second, running directly into your line of sight. It actually would’ve been very difficult for her to miss your line of sight, considering she’d landed only a good six inches in front of your face. “Hey!”   

“Oh, fuck—” you jump, grabbing your chest. You take a breath when you realize who it is, less surprised now by the theatrics of the introduction. “Hey Steph.”

“Hey,” she smiles casually, like she didn’t do what she just did. “So Jason’s been ignoring us and I need to get a hold of him,” she tells you.

You nod, still collecting yourself. “Oh. I don’t know where he is—”

She shakes her head, “That’s fine. Can I use your phone to call him?”

You frown, “Is something wrong?”

“With him, yeah,” she snarks. “I called him, Tim called him, Dick called him, Cass called him, Damian called him, we used Bruce’s phone to call him—that was a bit of a long shot, but still. This is our last option. Well, not our last option, if this doesn’t work I could get really invasive, but—” She shakes the thought from her head, “Nevermind.”

You nod blankly, taking in the mountain of information she’d just handed you. “How’d you know I was here?”

She scans your eyes back and forth for a second before her own widen in realization and she’s shaking her head. “No, no, don’t worry we’re not tracking you! I just hacked into the traffic cameras to find you.”

“Oh!” you exclaim, nodding some more. “Okay.”

You hand her your phone without any further questions—for your own sake—and she happily accepts. 

“You know I texted him 115 times?” she tells you as she scrolls through your contacts.

You furrow your eyebrows, watching her click his name and press the phone to her ear. “Did you count?”

“Well, I had the time, di—you son of a bitch! One ring?” Stephanie scorns into the phone.

You can hear Jason groan on the other end of the line. 

He says something to Stephanie that she follows up with a firm shake of her head.

“No,” she says defiantly. “She let me use it.”

Stephanie rolls her eyes, not pleased with his response. “What if it was an emergency?”

She listens for a second, skeptical look on her face.

She gasps suddenly, “I am not overstepping, we thought you were dead!”

Over the course of about ten seconds the shock on her face drops into just-been-caught guilt. “Well, I mean we considered it.”

You imagine Jason’s telling her to give you your phone back as she stands her ground, pushing, “If you promise to text me back.”

A short response on his end.

“Promise to text me back!”

There’s a brief lull before she’s giving a self-satisfied nod and jostling your phone back into your hands. “Here ya go. Thanks, babe!” She smiles wide at you before jogging back across the street, not waiting for the cars.

You smile as you watch her go, putting the phone up to your ear, “Hey Jay.”

You can hear the relief on the other end of the line. “Hey sweetheart. You know if you see Steph in public, you can just walk away?”

“I’m not going to walk away from your family.” You look again across the street, “Also I don’t think that was an option for me this time.”

“That thing is fucking scary.”

Cass smiles fondly, signing, “I think he’s cute.”

Tim eyes the way Salem traipses around his feet, yellow eyes staring up at him. “Why’s it even here?”

Jason rolls his eyes, continuing to scroll on his phone. “He’s hers. Deal with it.”

Tim scrunches up his mouth. “She knows I hate it. And she, unlike you, wouldn’t subject me to this just for the hell of it. So again I ask: why is it here?”

Jason huffs, looking up from his phone. “What do you want me to say? He wants to be.”

Tim scoffs at that, “‘It wants to be’? You’re the one who put it in the car.”

“No, I didn’t,” Jason says factually.

Tim looks at him sideways as Salem leaps onto Jason’s lap and nudges his hand up. Jason follows along as requested, petting the top of Salem’s head with an open palm. 

Tim squirms to the other side of the couch with a look of disgust on his face. Salem watches him the whole time.  

A smile adorns Cass’ face as she signs, “She says he can read people’s energy.”

Tim huffs, resting his head against his fist. “What does that even mean?”

The conversation is cut off by the clatter of you and Dick stumbling into the room, carrying a freshly painted headboard. Blue paint coats both of your hands and has no doubt stained your clothes.

You’re clearly struggling a bit to keep your grip on your end, the weight of the wooden frame dragging your arms down.

Jason stands and Salem flows along with his movements easily, leaping down onto the hardwood. He comes over and helps you lift your end of the frame with a stupid amount of ease, to the point that you’re not even holding any of the weight up anymore. The three of you—less so you—move the headboard and lean it up against the wall. After it's set down Jason steps back and looks over it gingerly.

“It looks good,” he murmurs to you, quiet enough to not give his brother the satisfaction of his approval.

Dick had asked you over to help him paint Damian’s bed frame as a surprise for him for not getting in any “altercations” at school this semester. You’d decided on coating it with his favorite color first and then fill it in with a collection of what Dick has “on good authority” are his favorite animals. It’s a fairly random assortment that you’re not sure adds to or disproves Dick’s credibility. You’d spent the better half of the afternoon googling animals you’d never heard of just to make sure you projected their likenesses accurately. Dick had been very clear that you had to be precise on the details because Damian would know if he was really looking at a komodo dragon painting or if it was “some common lizard.”

You sigh, “I hope he likes it. I’m worried we did it too childish for him.”

“He is a child,” Jason says plainly.

“But he is not childish,” you counter. And he sure isn’t. You’d had a hard enough time convincing Damian to watch cartoons, adding a colorful animal mural to his bedroom might be one step too far. You’re still trying to figure him out.

“He’ll like it,” he says firmly.

You smile, slipping around under his arm and tucking yourself into his side.

Not a moment later, Dick slings an arm around Jason's shoulder, grinning as he pulls his brother in close.

Jason’s immediately louring. "No, get away from me."

Dick, unfazed and still smiling, removes his arm and takes a big step to the right. You do the same, figuring he needs his space, but you get caught by the wrist before you can do more than sway to the side. 

“Not you.” 

He pulls you back under his arm, wrapping it around the front of your shoulders. You hook your fingers around his forearm, letting your hand hang.

You hear a double-clap from the other side of the room that has you both turning around to face Cass. 

She signs something to Jason with a fond smile on her face. 

You look back and forth between them as Jason waves her off. “What?”

He shakes his head, “It’s nothing. She said—she said we’re cute.”

You smile up at him and he deflects—not so subtly—and starts nudging you back towards where the group is gathered, now all standing. 

Dick’s quick to start bragging off to the room about how great of a job the two of you did and how really complex and daunting it actually is painting animals for a child.

As he talks, your eyes find Jason, who’s definitely about to roll his eyes any second now. A bit subconsciously, your hand comes up to brush Jason’s white streak of hair back, away from tickling his forehead. 

On the other side of Jason, Tim does the same, sweeping Jason’s hair back in a much more mocking manner. 

This gives way to Jason smacking his hand away, harder than he needed to.

"Wha—You let her do it!" Tim protests, overplaying how much the slap hurt.

Jason scowls, "She can do whatever she wants."

Tim drops his shoulders, looking at Jason as if he’d been scandalized. “Oh but I can’t?”

“Not if it involves touching me,” Jason grumbles.

Tim steps closer, putting a finger to Jason’s chest. “You’re such a—”

From the floor, Salem hisses up at Tim, successfully startling the teenager. “Auahh—”

He stumbles backwards, grimacing at the cat. 

“Fucking demon,” he hisses, walking away.

When Tim’s far enough away and Salem’s seemingly satisfied, he brushes up against your leg, purring. 

You peer down at him with a furrowed brow. 

“What’s Salem doing here?”

“I’m not doing this shit with you.”

“No, come on, 9 out of 10 times is what you said. How ‘bout just once? Beat me one time at anything, Jaybird.”

“Anything?” Jason asks like he knows damn well Dick can’t swear on that word.

Rightly so, Dick backtracks. “Something agreed upon.”

Jason throws his hands up, partially in exasperation, partially relenting.

Dick smoothly turns his back to him, announcing, “Opening up the room for ideas.”

Damian’s eye roll is almost audible from the corner armchair, where his attention is unmoved from intently sharpening a blade he’d recently come into possession of.

Bruce similarly remains unbothered in his seat, trying to read despite the distractions. 

“Ooh, okay. Okay.” Stephanie wiggles up a little on the couch. “You could race!”

Dick shakes his head negatively, “I literally just busted my knee up two days ago, Steph.”

“Convenient,” Jason mumbles.

“You were there!” Dick exclaims with an open mouth.

Steph continues, “Um…”

Cass waves to the room from her position upside down on the couch, head hanging down next to Stephanie’s legs. Attention successfully acquired, she signs, “Staring contest.”

Jason grimaces, “That sounds like a nightmare.”

Dick gives him a faux-smile.

“You should play chicken,” Damian chimes in, holding up his knife.

“No,” Bruce drones monotonously as he flips a page. 

“Tic tac toe?” Steph suggests.

Cass is already shaking her head as she scrunches up her mouth in thought.  

Jason rolls his eyes, “What are we, five?”

Dick nods, cracking his knuckles as he thinks. “No, we need something that really proves our worth.”

Bruce looks up from his book, staring numbly through his brow, but remains silent.

“You could arm wrestle,” Steph suggests.

The elder brother twitches at that, “Uh, no.”

Cass moves past that before a joke has the chance to be made. “Handstand contest?” she suggests.

Jason shrugs, “Yeah, sure.”

The elder brother looks at him incredulously. “You’ll do a handstand contest with me?”

“That’s what I just said.”

Dick scoffs, “Jaybird, I’m an acrobat, you’re just some guy.”

Jason, not giving him the courtesy of eye contact, pulls his sweatshirt off from his back. “Well, you’re a lot of things, aren’t you?”

Dick throws his head back with a squint.

Jason fishes his phone out of his pocket and Dick follows suit, offended stare maintaining all the while. 

No exchange is required as they both toss their phones across the room, landing together with a rough clatter on Damian’s lap. Damian’s resulting glare is borderline disgusted.

Dick starts them off, “Alright, go. One…two…”

Both men push up onto their hands, muscles flexing as they find their balance. Dick’s form is better, of course, but Jason looks to have a stronger foundation.   

They both hold strong as several minutes go by with the brothers only maintaining the attention of some of the room, and the interest of none of it.

Stephanie huffs and tilts her head, thoroughly unentertained with the consistency they’re both managing. 

“Starting to wish they’d picked something that moved along a little faster,” she murmurs to Cass.

Dick glances over at the younger brother, clearly displeased with his lack of trouble keeping up with him. He shuffles closer one hand at a time, using the decreased distance to poke at Jason with his foot, trying to knock him over.

Jason kicks him back harder, “Hey! Don’t be a dick—”

“Very funny,” Dick leers.

They both end up finding a struggle to keep balance and are forced to mind their own.  

A chime rings out from the corner that has heads turning briefly in his direction before coming back to the competition. 

“Whose was that?” Dick calls out.

Damian leans over and inspects the screens with disinterest. “Todd’s.”

Jason adjusts his position, “Who is it?”

Damian responds with your name. 

“And?”

He picks up the phone shrugging like he couldn’t care less, “She wants to know if you want to go see some movie.”

There’s a brief silence before Jason drops out of the handstand, standing up. 

Dick’s blood-flushed face peers up at him, bewildered. “Wait, what?”

The family watches with wide eyes as Jason picks his sweatshirt up off the floor and tugs it back on.

Stephanie gawks, bordering on laughing. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he says simply.

Dick lets himself fall into a kneeling position with a huff, “You would rather go to some movie you don’t even know the name of than win a bet?”

Jason moues at him, “Uh, yeah.”

He tosses a twenty at Dick, and plucks his phone from Damian’s hand as he strolls past him, typing out a reply.

Cass sits up a bit and signs up to Stephanie, “Does he even like movies?” 

Bruce, now attention now fully removed from his book, watches Jason exit with the slightest hint of a smile. Dick sits dumbly on the floor, staring after him with an open-mouth. 

Damian twists the knife in his hands around contemplatively before rising to stand. 

“I will go,” he announces, dropping his blade onto the seat of the chair. Jason grumbles a no but Damian follows after him just the same.

you know what happened to the last guy that didn’t reblog? … 🔪🧨💥😵⚰️🪦