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vikdec4i · 2 months ago

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Heyo it’s me, I’m here to ruin ya day

Thoughts on Mitzi and Mordecai’s parallels and how desperate they are to find answers about Altas’s death?

mordecai heller and mitzi may: a piece on grieving.

FIRST of all, i apologise that this response took a very long time to cook up. i wanted it to be as fleshed out as possible because i do have a lot to say in this regard. the train of thought initially departed because of the widespread misunderstanding around mitzi’s character. to which i thought to myself: well it’s strange that people can easily extend their empathy towards mordecai, who (to me) has undoubtedly done worse. but what’s even worse is that, if you really look closely— if we made a venn diagram for these two, there’s a large chunk of overlap between them.

(p.s. now that i am proofreading all of this i realise its a bit different from what you asked but nonetheless i hope it captures the complex nature of grief as a theme in lackadaisy, especially when discussing the parallels between mitzi and mordecai)

so let’s break it down.

if someone wanted to read lackadaisy and asked me if there were any main themes that circled around the story— i would say: grief. more specifically, the consequences of untapped grief. mean the story itself starts off with the mysterious and brutal death of atlas may, who was THE big cat behind the lackadaisy. atlas himself was an enigma, and i have mentioned this before in another post. his position within the story bears a lot of similarities to rose quartz as they play the ghastly spouse that haunts the narrative.

however, this is not about atlas, but instead the two people that served as his vessel after his passing:

his wife, mitzi, and his right-hand man, mordecai.

instead of dissecting this theme individually, finding the differences between the two, i thought it would do the analysis more justice to extract it directly from the source material itself. initially i wanted to talk about how this grieving bleeds out onto others around them (e.g. mitzi forging a check from wick, mordecai kneecapping viktor).

let’s take “hamstring” and “monomania” for example, as they both converse over asa’s claims at their lunch. but if you really think about it, it was never about that.

this scene embodies a power struggle between the two. for one, mitzi’s mentions of mordecai’s “obsession” as a deflection. she sees his rigid loyalty as both a flaw and a threat. by framing mordecai as overly fixated, she’s able to position herself as the more pragmatic party who is trying to keep afloat. which is true and mitzi, rightfully, views mordecai as a “relentless former associate.” his meticulous nature, his refusal to let go of the past, and his allegiance to ideals that no longer align with business’ survival paints him as the wildcard to her. then again, it’s hard to take empty words from someone that had abandoned the very concept he claims to protect.

that’s not to say mordecai doesn’t return the sentiment, because he very much does. to him, mitzi’s pragmatism looks more like opportunism, evident in her willingness to bend rules, and in his perspective, betray atlas’ vision to keep the business alive. while she plays the capable leader, that imagery clashes with his perception of her as someone who lacks discipline— possibly bred by the history that mordecai knows her to be atlas’ wife and nobody more. he sees mitzi as culpable in the lackadaisy’s downfall and he makes sure she knows this.

but at the end of the day, they are having this conversation inside the same car. while one might interpret this being the main divergence between the two, we can see a striking commonality in which they are failed actors starring in roles they never wanted.

what do i mean by this? while the dont outwardly acknowledge it, grief survives in this scenario as a subtext. you can tell by the use of dialogue. mitzi’s sarcastic tone and pointed remarks, almost shoving the spotlight towards mordecai, suggests a stage of denial and pain that comes with her grieving over atlas. remember what mordecai said to mitzi in response?

“losses are endemic to this business. you’ve brought them on yourself in your persistence… as though you could bring the remains of atlas’ estate to anything but further disgrace.”

his crticisim of mitzi isn’t just about the state of the lackadaisy, in fact, mordecai subconsciously targets himself for his own inability to move on. mordecai and mitzi are different people, that is no question. but this scene serves as a great analogy that this conversation could very much be happening in their heads. this is a conversation not between two people but between one and oneself.

here’s also another thing to note: their seating arrangement.

whether or not tracy meant for this to be intentional, there’s a lot you can take in this scene in regards to their character. mitzi sits in the passenger seat at the front, where the light is more prominent. it symbolises her active role as the current face of the lackadaisy and the one taking on visible responsibility for its perseverance. however, note that she is still in the passenger seat, not the driver’s— mitzi is losing control, she is struggling to move forward in the wake of atlas’ passing. but she’s still not fully in charge of its trajectory, think of how asa and mordecai looks down on her current position.

occasionally, she’d glance back at mordecai to speak, which definitely shows her discomfort and mistrust towards him, she’s unwilling to fully confront him. and in my opinion, not only does this reveal her vulnerability, this also shows her internal discontent.

mordecai, on the other hand, is sitting behind her (literally AND metaphorically) in the shadows. he sits in the back, detached from the lackadaisy but not completely. he observes mitzi from behind, his direct vision fixed on the back of her head, almost as if he’s reflecting on her choices and her struggles— perhaps… confronted with his own betrayal.

plus, if you’re thinking: what about the holes in the windows? GREAT question. despite how they want to present themselves, be it independent (mitzi) or calculated (mordecai), they’re both incredibly vulnerable individuals.

as they sit in this confined space together, they breathe in the air of their inescapable bond and mutual dependence. their dynamic equal parts antagonistic and deeply intertwined.

#THIS IS A LONG ONE PHEWWWW #sorry it took so damn long #i hope you enjoy this read!!#i had soooo much fun writing this and i cant wait to put out more analysis like this #im considering a separate post for both of them individually #i wanted to put it here but that’d be waaaay too long and it’d definitely derail the flow #so much to say abt them … . they are so!!!#lackadaisy #lackadaisy cats #mordecai heller #mitzi may #atlas may #xan: rambling #xan: analysis

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mci-writing · 1 year ago

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Hi I saw that your requests are open. Can I request a senku x female reader where he has a crush on an older tattooed foreigner who was on vacation in Japan when the world was petrified

I've had this sitting for a minute tbh, but mostly bc I didn't want there to be too many spoilers for anime-onlys 😭😭 mostly for how tattoos work,,, Don’t be surprised if there’s a heavy focus on language plot wise, I’ve been working on a lot of linguistics homework 😞

Anyways, hope you enjoy

Science Makes Age Complicated (Ishigami Senku x Reader):

Warnings: technically an age gap but also not (reader was once 2 years older than Senkuu, but now they're the same age due to time shenanigans), fem!reader, some language use (a few swears here and there), reader is American (RIP but it’s plot relevant), reader is implied to know an insane amount of languages (bc this is Dr Stone and it’s relevant to world-building)

"Think you can scrounge something up for her, Yuzuriha?" Senku parts the lush shrubbery for his friend, unresponsive to her obvious surprise at the sight before her. He figured it would go that way, considering how kept away the whole area is, but he'd rather start the spectacle with her big reactions instead of the loud and boisterous version involving the rest of their crew, "I'm more than sure you'll manage to make her something she's 1 billion percent comfortable in."

He'd considered this statue his secret weapon for the next part of their excursion. Well, that would be his explanation as to why he'd waited so long to unveil her and finally free her from her encasement. Really, he could never find the proper time to finally revive her, especially when every time it would feel right to, something else would arise that would require them to use the revival fluid for someone else.

When talks of traveling to the Americas came up, he knew it'd be the perfect time to properly reveal her and, hopefully, ease her into their current predicament. While Gen is a great diplomat, thew mentalist isn't exactly fluent in as many languages as the girl in the statue before them. Even more, if they are to run into more people (which they very likely are), it's better to have at least two representatives to talk things over. That's going to be his reasoning, anyway.

Deep down, he's a little nervous to finally see her again, especially now that he's technically older than her by a few months at least. The last time they'd seen each other had been the day before the petrification light, the two decided to spend time with each other before he went back to school. She was visiting Japan for a bit, a trip she'd planned to make at least once a year since the two had officially met in person while he had been in America. Back then, she'd been 17 to his 15, owning an American driver's license and a tattoo sleeve that left many of the older members of society scandalized.

"I don't think she's going to take being younger than us well," Yuzuriha mentions as she finishes up sewing the outfit she'd made for (Y/n). She worked fast, wiping the sweat that had accumulated on her forehead once she finished. She takes a step back once she's finished, watching as Senku steps forward, "Especially when she finds out how long it took for you to bring her back."

"She'll be fine. I'm 1 billion percent sure she's going to be grateful for it," He responds, popping the top off the tiny vial between his fingers. He doesn't stop the grin from spreading across his face as he lets the contents of the vial drip from the top of her head. The two watch expectedly as it eases its way down her body, stone cracking and parting in its wake, “She’s going to get to visit home, after all.”

The stone falls from her body, the life slowly coming back into her (e/c) orbs as more of her skin is revealed. Her tattooed sleeve remains, now accompanied by the petrification markings on her face and other parts of her body. A wave of confusion hits her as she takes in the unfamiliar surroundings, but her shoulders relax a little as she takes in the two familiar figures next to her, "Senku...? Yuzuriha...?" "Hey, (Y/n)," He immediately greets in response, an excited light coming to his eyes as ruby meets (e/c), "Looks like we're the same age now."

Yuzuriha flinches at his greeting, sighing with a shake of her head as she takes a small step closer to their friend. A nervous smile forms on her lips as she takes (Y/n) hands into her own, leading her out of the hidden away area into the light of the new world. She feels the grip tighten as (e/c) eyes dart around the surrounding forestry in an attempt to better understand the circumstances and environment, "We have a lot to catch you up on, but I'm sure if we ease you in slowly it won't cause you too much whiplash-"

"We don't have time for that, Yuzuriha. We still have to load the ship back up and travel to America," Senku waves the notion off, walking past the two of them and leading them back into the village. Neither of the girls miss the smirk on his face as he continues, unmoving as they gape at him like fish, "(Y/n) will catch up along the way."

He's bluffing, which they realize a little later when Ryusui recounts the plan to spend the next few days loading the ship and replacing the items they used on their last voyage. (Y/n) is assimilated faster into their new society than she can process, the rest of their group taking the basic information they're fed and working with it. Yuzuriha is eventually forced to leave her to fend for her own after a bit to attend to her own assignments and Taiju only stops to catch up for a bit (which is mostly him speed talking and making assumptions about how much she's been made aware of) before continuing to move along.

Senku doubts he'll ever admit it out loud, but he is grateful that they're the same age, even if he's technically older by a few months now. Standing next to (Y/n), who hadn't aged a day past the last time he'd seen her, was the reassurance he secretly needed about his own development. While his growth spurt, a result of the final pushes of puberty during the Stone Wars and roughing it during the New Stone Age, was the only difference he could notice next to her, (Y/n) had been hit with the whiplash of every other development.

To her, it felt like both a lifetime and a long night since she had seen Senku, yet he looked almost completely different and exactly the same. The remainder of his baby fat had rounded out of his cheeks, his face maturing nicely into that of a young adult, and he'd sprung up quite a bit in height. He was still lithe in comparison to Taiju, till thin and very much not built for too much physical labor, but he'd gotten a bit of meat on his bones to fill his arms out a little more. Despite that, he still looked like him, like the jerky boy she'd met by chance in middle school who would be the first person she'd show her newest tattoos to when she was 16 to get some kind of rise out of him.

Taiju and Yuzuriha were a further reminder of the weird passage of time, the two more developed in their own rights. He was beefier, still ever-muscular in a more defined way. His hands seemed rougher, but she didn't know if that had been due to the rougher circumstances or if they were always meant to get so rough with all the handy work Senku would put him up to. Yuzuriha had filled out a little, a few scars littering her hands from what (Y/n) could only assume was from her thread work she'd seem to consistently be working on since they'd gotten back to their stronghold. Her silky brown hair, which had once reached her waist and made a few of the girls from their school envious of its length, now barely reached past her shoulders in its bobbed shape.

She feels so out of place...

~~~~

The rush of information coming to people’s senses is always amusing to watch, but (Y/n) is taking a little more time to process than usual. Even now, a few days into her now being free from the stone prison, she still has more questions. They aren’t particularly scientific, more so just random observations that she really wants the answers to. She’s also hyper-analyzed the villagers' speech patterns, having them repeat their newer slang and pronounce random words in Japanese, English, and German (something they did not realize they were fluent in until she came around). In return, they ask her questions about the past (mostly Senku, Yuzuriha, and Taiju), the sleeve on her arm, and why the hell she knows so many languages already.

Senku can’t really be mad about it slowly down progress, he’s sure he’d slack off a little too if they didn’t have so little time to prepare for their trip across the sea. Neither of them miss the way their eyes longingly stare at one another, meeting a few times before either is dragged away by the others they’re surrounded by. It’s even worse that (Y/n) feels she hasn’t been able to get any time alone with him since they made it to the village. She’d been made aware of their plans once her confusion died down a little, even taking the time to freshen up on the main languages she’d be focused on for their trip and doing what she can to pitch in. Unfortunately, their different preparations would barely, if ever, cross over. Lowkey, it had been killing both of them inside, but they kept up appearances for the sake of getting things done.

She’d learned from Gen, who gave her brain a break by speaking in English with her, that Senku had kept her relatively well hidden. He’d visit her often, but no one had put together that’s what he’d been doing until now. Yuzuriha made it clear she’d only learned of (Y/n)’s whereabouts a little before they’d revived her. However, the brown-haired girl did mention that a few passing statements he’d made in the past were starting to make sense.

It took the last night before the Kingdom of Science would set sail again for (Y/n) to find time away from the others. Despite the various discussions scratching her brain in the best way possible in a new world, the dark blue of the night accompanied by the low noises of crickets and crashing waves gives her the solace she needs. While everything has mostly settled, or settled as much as it can, it's still moving so fast. To her, everything was normal yesterday and then dark for longer than she thinks possible to comprehend, "Maybe this is how Sleeping Beauty felt..."

"I doubt that," A familiar voice speaks up from behind her, the heels of his shoes clopping along the ground as he approaches. The gravel scrunches as he shifts to sit next to her, deep zircon-colored eyes staring out towards the ocean's expanse. He scoots a little closer to her, his head tilting as his pinky reflexively reaches to dig out of his ear, "Considering she typically is depicted to have been a young preteen when she first fell asleep and an older teenager when she wakes, I doubt there were many technological changes to throw her for such a loop, especially if the story takes place in a fictional version of the middle ages."

His eyes shift to peak at her instead, his typical grin filing onto his face. Somehow, they're one of his few features to remain the same despite his growing age. He's one of the reasons she's out here tonight, gathering her thoughts privately one last time so she can tuck them away to focus her attention more on to returning civilization.

Of course, she always thought he was good-looking, most people did. However, where they were turned off by his passion for science and technical engineering, she found it to be all the more endearing for his character. He had his pesty moments, but so did everyone else in some way. It added to his charm, "Didn't see you as the fables type, Senku."

"Had a friend who was super into literature. She read it in different languages to challenge herself," He teases in response, his gaze turning back to the sight before them, "Wonder where she is now..."

(Y/n) tugs her knees up to her chest, the irony of the comparison not lost on her, though made completely on accident. She pulls them closer, resting her cheek on them as she takes in the boy next to her, "Maybe she's trapped somewhere in a stone prison back in the woods."

She watches his chest rumble with his chuckle, a soft breeze picking up and spreading the smell of salt water. He's closer now, the smaller changes staring her in the face and taunting her. She'd wanted him this close to her again, just for the reassurance, but now... She kind of regrets it.

"I would've found her by now," He mumbles, the sound just barely reaching her ears. A fond smile slowly eases across his mouth as he returns his gaze to her, "Would've taken me a while to finally see her like this again, but I think it'd finally be worth seeing her again. Even with the circumstances."

"I'm sure she'd be grateful to see you again too, even with the circumstances."

#ishigami senku #ishigami senku x reader #ishigami senkuu #ishigami senkuu x reader #senku ishigami x reader #dr stone x reader #senkuu ishigami x reader #did not think it would get so sentimental in the end I'm so sorry #I tussled with how to write this for a year and still feel there's further ways I could've taken it but it already feels pretty long so #I may revisit this again later but I won't hold my breath either 🤧#also had this idea that reader was Senku's interpreter in America but I didn't want to get into too much spoiler territory with that idea #she totally teaches him some silly phrases in the different languages she speaks and does mix languages up to mess with people #he doesn't realize he's into her until she goes back home one year and they fight on her way out #I imagine her tattoos are different phrases that she really enjoys and maybe a few doodles here and there #also wanted to wait until Matsukaze was introduced so ppl knew how tattoos work post petrification bc I kinda didn't wanna spoil it

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necrotic-nephilim · 6 months ago

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bftc jaytim fuck nasty in their batman suits🩷

CORRECT THEY DO. it's like you live in my brain, anon. and for that, you get a full fic bc i've wanted to write this anyway and you gave me an excuse to. have 6k words worth of dirtybadwrong JayTim. rough sex, blood play, pain play, degradation, consensual but not safe or sane, dead dove vibes so be warned. but also enjoy bc ily for this thought anon 🩷

“You look ridiculous in that get-up. Like a kid out for trick-or-treats.” The words were just as brutal as the fight was. Jason had the bodyweight and training to easily pin Tim, now that he was done toying around.

Of course, toying around for Jason Todd looked like bloody slashes across Tim’s back, base of his skull, and his forehead. Picking one of Bruce’s older suits may have been a bad idea on Tim’s part. The armor was thinner and easier for Jason to slash through with a batarang in a clenched fist.

Tim had managed to knock the batarang out of Jason’s hand, but that also seemed like a bad idea now, with Jason on top of Tim. His fists were even more brutal, blunt weapons and he’d reinforced the gloves to make his punches hit harder across Tim’s face.

There was blood pouring from Tim’s nose and mouth. With all the pain flaring across his body, it was hard for him to get a good read on if anything was broken or not.

All he knew was it hurt. His head spun from slamming against the concrete. It was hard for Tim to blink his eyes into focus. And when he did, he wished he hadn’t. Jason was leaning in so close, his mask was all Tim could see. Tim dizzily wondered how the glowing eyes didn’t impede Jason’s vision.

“Look at me,” Jason demanded. His voice was robotic behind the thick metal mouthpiece. One of his fists pulled back for another punch. “Do you see terror? Do you see fear? Or is it just your own reflection?”

By some miracle, Tim managed to catch the punch before it connected with his face. The muscles in his wrist and forearm screamed at the animalistic strength Jason pushed back with, inching his fist closer and closer to connecting. If it did manage to connect, Tim knew his own hand in the way wouldn’t do much to soften the blow. If anything, Jason would shatter Tim’s knuckles against his own nose.

Not a pretty thought.

“That mad I said no to being your Robin?” Tim wheezed. It was hard to get air in his lungs, with Jason perched on his chest, putting all his weight on Tim’s midsection.

Jason scoffed with cruel amusement. “You’re a second choice, Drake. It doesn’t matter to me if you say no, I can always ask the original. He’d at least put up a better fight than you’re managing.”

Tim couldn’t argue that. He thought he’d have some kind of chance in a fight against Jason, but it was a losing game to confront Jason on his turf, in a suit Tim wasn’t comfortable in. He was too stupid to even bring his bo staff.

A great Batman he was turning out to be.

With bloody teeth, Tim smiled. “You’re right. Is that why I’m your reflection, Jason? Two second rate Robins who will never be the original?” He managed a laugh against protesting ribs. “For what it’s worth, I still think I’m better than you. Least I didn’t die.”

He couldn’t see the look on Jason’s face, but he didn’t need to. The feral yell that came out of Jason spoke for itself at how well Tim got under his skin. Jason’s other fist came barreling toward Tim’s face, but he managed to move his head out of the way, making it only connect with the ground. Jason’s punch was hard enough to make the concrete crack.

Even with the reinforced gloves, that had to hurt. Maybe a couple cracked bones, if Tim was lucky. Jason couldn’t hit as hard if he injured himself.

That was a solid plan. If he’d actually planned it in the first place.

“Can’t believe I ever liked you, Drake,” Jason snarled, pulling his hand free from the concrete. He flexed his fingers just a bit too slow. He definitely hurt himself, even if he was trying to hide it. Jason went for his utility belt, grabbing another batarang.

“Flattering,” Tim deadpanned. He tried to elbow Jason in the neck, but Jason easily twisted away from the blow.

“I really did you know,” Jason said. Maybe it was the mask, but Tim could’ve sworn Jason’s tone changed slightly. “If Bruce hadn’t corrupted you, you really could’ve been something.”

Tim ignored the comment about Bruce. Bruce’s death was too raw for Tim to be able to look at his grief about it head-on. “Can’t say the feeling was mutual,” Tim grunted. He tried to slash his glove fins across Jason’s face. But Jason was smarter. He had a more durable suit that made the blow easily glance off.

Damn Tim for picking this suit. He idealized Bruce’s image too much and forwent practicality. He was paying for it now. A new suit would’ve had proper weapons worked into the wrists for Tim to easily flick out.

“I don’t know about that,” Jason mocked with a cold laugh. “Remind me again Drake, who broke me out of prison?”

He had a point.

“Real great job you’ve done repaying that kindness,” Tim muttered. He avoided addressing it directly. He didn’t owe Jason his reasons. Especially not with how they’d all blown up in his face.

“I never needed your kindness,” Jason growled. He wrapped a hand around Tim’s throat and pressed down just enough to make it uncomfortable for Tim to breathe. “That’s what all you Bats could never get through your skulls. I didn’t need to be Bruce’s pity project, and I definitely didn’t need to be yours.”

“Trust me,” Tim fought to get the words out, trying to worm his fingers under Jason’s grip. “You don’t have my pity.”

“What do I have, then?”

“My contempt.” The more Tim struggled, the tighter Jason’s grip got. The sharp points of his claws were starting to dig into Tim’s skin and draw blood. Blood flow was cut off from Tim’s brain and he fought to keep hold of his consciousness.

“Liar,” Jason hissed. “No one else is here, Tim. You don’t have to pretend and hide things from me I already know.”

Maybe passing out would be a good thing. Then, Tim would have a convenient reason for not answering Jason. A reason to not face the truth Jason wanted him to bare.

Tim knew that Jason probably knew. The way they’d looked at each other through the prison safety glass when Jason was locked up had a thousand unspoken words in just a shared smile. A promise, that maybe, if Jason cleaned himself up with this second chance, there could be something between them.

But Jason didn’t clean up. He flung himself in the opposite direction, if anything. A growing body count and an ugly reign of terror that was Tim’s job to stop.

He started this. He put misplaced faith in Jason. Tim’s bad judgment jeopardized Gotham.

And now Jason wanted the unspoken part said out loud. Something a part of Tim would rather die than admit after all this. They both already knew. Making Tim say it was just an obvious attempt to humiliate him and Tim refused to sink to Jason’s level.

All this over a stupid crush.

“Fine,” Jason continued when Tim didn’t say anything. “I’ll say it for you. You loved me.”

Tim made a face and twisted, finally forcing Jason’s hand free from his neck with a hard strike to his inner elbow. “It wasn’t love,” he insisted through grit teeth.

“What was it then?”

Tim didn’t say a word. He wasn’t going to give in to Jason’s cruelty.

“Tell you what,” Jason’s voice dropped low and almost sultry. “If you say it out loud, I’ll give you a free pass. No one will know.”

“A free pass?”

There was no way Jason was implying what Tim thought he was.

“Right here, right now.” Jason nodded. “Can’t say I’ll make it sweet, but something tells me you’re not the vanilla type anyway.”

Shit. He was implying that. Tim’s breath caught in his throat.

The answer should’ve been obvious.

The answer was obvious. Tim was laying in a growing pool of his own blood because of Jason. Countless people were dead because of Jason. Bruce’s legacy was being destroyed because of Jason. Whatever little crush Tim had once had was long gone and replaced with disgust and hatred.

Most of it was.

But some small piece of Tim clung to the way Jason grinned at him. And that small piece of him seemed to be steering the rest of him, making him hesitate on what should’ve been an easy answer. An easy chance to catch Jason off guard and get the upper hand in the fight.

Tim hoped the cowl hid enough of his face that his expression wasn’t readable.

“Over my dead body,” Tim forced the words out, pulling himself back into reality. Praying Jason wouldn’t read into the pause.

Jason’s body shifted. He was quiet for a moment, then he shrugged and brought the batarang clenched in his fist to Tim’s neck, easily finding the jugular. “So be it. I agree anyway. Killing you is the best way to cut this goddamn feeling out of me.”

“What feeling?” Tim frowned, fingers twitching as he stalled, trying to think of a real plan.

“No, no.” Jason shook his head and laughed. It was a hollow sound, this time. “You don’t get to have your cake and eat it too. If you won’t say it, then I won’t either.”

Oh.

“You…” Tim sucked in a breath. He was on death’s edge, a blade to his neck, but somehow it was the furthest thing from his spinning mind. “You like me? Like that?” He said it like a stupid high schooler, too shy to even look their crush in the eye.

“What difference does it make now?” Jason shifted his weight on Tim, bearing down more. “This was always how it was going to end, between us.”

“It makes all the difference,” Tim said. He didn’t know why it did. But he knew it did. Tim reached a hand up, but instead of going for Jason’s batarang, he went further. His fingers reached under his own cowl and tugged it off, baring his face to Jason.

Vulnerability. A metaphorical white flag, surrendering to Jason.

Tim was dangerously close to getting himself killed. He could feel it, in his beating heart and overflowing adrenaline.

“I would’ve come at this from a different angle if I knew…” Tim started, before trailing off. They were still dancing around saying it directly.

Jason barked out another laugh. “Oh, would you? What, you would’ve come to talk instead of fight? You really think that would’ve worked?”

“Maybe-“

“I told you,” Jason’s grip on the batarang tightened, “I don’t need your fucking pity.”

“And you don’t have it,” Tim snapped back. Too angry. This angle was quickly slipping away from him. Shit. “You’re a psychopathic killer and I don’t know if you can ever been redeemed after what you’ve done. But I would’ve tried out of love, not pity, you sanctimonious asshole.”

Jason stuttered. He leaned back and breathed hard. Tim really wished he wasn’t wearing that stupid mask. “You said it wasn’t love.”

Tim took in a deep breath, and let himself fall over the ledge he’d been trying so hard to cling to since Jason pinned him. “I lied.”

For a moment, Tim was convinced he’d just sealed his own coffin. Whatever Jason’s feelings were, it didn’t seem like they were any particular deterrent to hurting Tim. He was inches away from killing Tim and leaving his body for someone else to find.

If they found Tim’s body at all.

But instead. Instead, Jason reached up and ripped the metal part of his mask off, tossing it aside to skitter off into the darkness.

And he kissed Tim.

Tim let out the breath he was holding against Jason’s mouth. And in turn, Jason breathed him in, greedy with his kiss. The batarang was kept firm against Tim’s throat, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Jason was kissing him.

There was still the logical side of him screaming just how bad of an idea this was. All the reasons he could think of to not tangle with Jason were running circles across his mind.

Tim ignored them and kissed Jason back.

Jason tasted like metal and he smelled like gunpowder. Both of those things made sense and made Tim want more. He wanted every single part of Jason he could drink up, even from a single kiss. Jason’s tongue was in his mouth, licking and opening Tim up. They shared each other’s blood through the kiss, until Tim couldn’t tell whose was whose.

The kiss was broken by Jason just as suddenly as it was started. Jason pulled back and raised the batarang. Panic flashed through Tim and he instinctively threw his hands up to cover his face and neck.

The batarang slashed through Tim’s suit though, thankfully not giving him what might’ve been the stupidest death in the history of vigilantism. Jason didn’t seem to care about making sure the cut didn’t get Tim’s skin, though. Shallow wounds sprang across Tim’s skin and he hissed, watching Jason turn the suit to ribbons. The batarang was then tossed aside so Jason could rip off the suit as he leaned back.

The bat symbol on Tim’s chest stayed in tact, but everything below it was ripped away, exposing him from his abs down to his thighs. Jason knew exactly how to unclip the utility belt and throw that aside, with the shreds of fabric.

Cold air hit Tim’s most private areas. He wanted to cover himself, but he couldn’t get his hands to obey. His entire body was paralyzed under Jason’s gaze.

“Take off your mask,” Tim found his voice, rough and not sounding like himself.

Jason wore a cruel smirk. “No.” He did take off his gloves, though. Tim didn’t hide his sigh of relief. He didn’t want those claws on his skin. He was bleeding enough as it was.

The moment Jason’s hands were bare, he ran them over Tim’s skin. Tim hissed and flinched, but didn’t pull away. He let Jason’s warm hands claim his skin. Jason wasn’t kind or gentle. He smeared Tim’s blood around, exploring every bare inch. Tim’s stomach, his hips, his back, his legs.

Jason curled a hand around Tim’s dick and Tim’s back arched.

To be fair, this wasn’t exactly how he’d pictured sleeping with Jason. Still, he couldn’t find it in him to complain.

Jason jerked Tim off rough and fast. The blood on his hand was slick enough to make a smooth glide over the callouses of his palm. Tim groaned, eyes fluttering shut. He bucked into Jason’s hand. As much pain as his body was in, the pleasure was too distracting for him to care. Tim choked on every breath he managed to take in, unable to stop himself from crying out and whining.

His body was screaming at him because of what Jason had done to him. And now, he was letting himself fall apart to Jason’s hands in a different way.

“If Grayson found us, he’d think I was fucking torturing you from all the pathetic noises you’re making,” Jason growled. He barely sounded human. He slid his other hand up Tim’s chest and grabbed Tim’s face, stroking his cheek.

Tim groaned at the thought. He forced his eyes to open just so he could look at Jason. He really wished Jason would take the cowl off. Tim wanted to see Jason’s face more than anything.

“Don’t bring him up,” Tim gasped, practically humping Jason’s hand for more delirious pleasure. “I don’t want to think about him now.”

At least he could see Jason’s smirk. “Why? Because you know he’d disapprove?”

“Because I want to think about you.” Tim tried to grab at Jason’s suit to pull it off. His hands were clumsy and shaky though, probably from blood loss. All he could do was uselessly press them against Jason’s chest and feel the warmth through layers of armor.

“Fuck,” Jason groaned. His whole body shuddered, affected by Tim’s words alone. Jason stopped jerking Tim off so he could unclip his belt. He kept his other hand against Tim’s face though. Stroking it. “Least I know why you broke me out of prison, now.”

Tim made an aghast noise. “This is not why I broke you out of prison.”

Jason leaned in close, resting his face against Tim’s. “You still broke me out. So all my blood is on your hands too, Tim.” He pressed a kiss against Tim’s temple. “Bruce wouldn’t have been stupid enough to do that. Hell of a Batman you make.” It was like he had crawled into Tim’s brain just to voice all the awful little thoughts that Tim tried to bury.

“You-“ Tim tried to snap back, but he was distracted by the sound of Jason undoing a clasp, then a zipper. Tim looked down and watched, breath caught in his throat, as Jason pulled his cock out of his pants.

He was already hard.

Jason’s hand smeared blood across his member. Tim swallowed at the sight. Jason had pushed his pants down just enough to expose a sliver of pale skin. He had a sharp v-line and toned muscles just from the bit Tim could see. An embarrassing noise came out of Tim’s throat.

“Pathetic,” Jason said, but he groaned on the word, working his hand over himself. It was filthy. Both of them, covered in blood, and Jason jerking off on top of Tim.

Tim wrapped an arm around Jason. He wanted to sink his fingers into Jason’s hair, but he settled for wrapping them around the back of Jason’s cowl. Tim seriously considered trying to pull the cowl off himself, but he doubted Jason would take kindly to it.

The noises Jason made as he pleasured himself were beautiful. Tim’s sounds were animalistic and, in Jason’s own words, pathetic. Barely human sounding. But Jason. Jason sounded practically divine, low and smooth as he moaned in Tim’s ear.

“Please,” Tim gasped. He wasn’t sure what he was asking for.

“That desperate?” Jason downright purred.

Tim didn’t hold himself back from nodding. He swallowed down his dignity.

If he had any dignity left.

“I’m not going to be gentle,” Jason warned. Like he was giving Tim one last chance to back out.

Tim just laughed. “If you think I want you to be gentle, you really don’t know a thing about me.”

A guttural groan came out of Jason. He pulled back and lifted one of Tim’s legs, bending it as far back as he could. Tim wasn’t quite as flexible as Dick was, but Jason got pretty far before Tim’s muscles protested and he winced.

“Of course you shave down there,” Jason commented. He slid a hand over Tim’s smooth skin around his cock and balls.

“I don’t like pubes getting caught in my suit,” Tim huffed, trying not to let his cheeks go red.

“Don’t worry,” Jason hummed, “I think it’s cute. Makes you look like a fucking virgin.”

“I’m not.” Like it mattered.

Jason paused, just staring at Tim. Was he disappointed? It was hard to tell. “I’m going to ruin you for anyone else, so it doesn’t matter either way.” Whether or not he was disappointed was masked with a rough, possessive anger that made Tim gasp.

Rough fingers ran over the shallow cuts on Tim’s stomach and he hissed at the sudden sharp pain. It wasn’t easy to ignore the dull throbbing when Jason was practically fingering the open wounds. Tim almost asked what the hell he was doing, before he realized Jason was smearing blood across his fingers, getting them slick and coated.

“Seriously? You’re going to use my own blood to fuck me?” Tim asked, like just the thought of it wasn’t making him spread his legs wider. Still, the idea of cleaning tacky blood out of himself did make Tim internally cringe.

“You got a better idea?” Jason shot back.

“I think there’s lube in-“

“No.” Jason cut him off, pressing harder into the cuts just to make Tim wince. “We’re doing it my way, or I just leave you in a pool of your own blood with a hard-on.”

“Okay.” Tim caved instantly with a hushed whisper at the rough dominance.

It was so easy, for Jason to take complete control of Tim. He was putty in Jason’s hands, content to be manipulated however Jason wanted, so long as Tim got his own pleasure out of it. If Jason wanted Tim to bleed, he would bleed. If he wanted Tim to be spread open and ready to be fucked, then Tim would give him that too.

Christ. He needed to be checked out mentally after this.

Jason gave Tim a pleased hum, probably the closest thing to praise Tim was going to get out of him. He’d take it. Blood slick fingers pressed against Tim’s hole. Two fingers were forced in at once, hard and fast.

Tim screamed.

He didn’t expect Jason to be gentle, but it seemed like Jason was going out of his way to be rough. Scrapping his nails against Tim’s insides and brutally twisting his fingers around. He didn’t try to hit Tim’s prostate to bring any kind of pleasure. The brushes of his fingers over that spot were more painful than pleasurably, if anything. Fast and rough, giving Tim no chance to soak up the sparks of sensation from the bundle of nerves.

“Oh god,” Tim groaned, throwing his head back. His hips twitched violently, like they weren’t sure to press into Jason’s fingers for more, or to try to pull away from the horrible assault.

It’d been a while since Tim had been in this much pain. So battered from a fight that every movement of his body was weak and shaky. He grabbed onto Jason’s arm, desperate for an anchor. He couldn’t have pulled Jason off of him, even if he wanted to.

He didn’t, though. Tim wanted this to last as long as it possibly could.

He never got to drown himself in the pain. Pain was something that had to be compartmentalized and ignored, for the sake of the mission. Getting back on his feet and ignoring the way his body screamed at him was one of the first things Bruce taught him.

Now, Tim didn’t have to fight it. He could just give in. The half-hearted instincts from his body trying to fight back were ignored by Jason. Like Jason knew that Tim wanted this.

Needed this.

At some point, Jason must’ve worked a third finger inside of Tim. He didn’t notice. The burning stretch swirled with every other point of pain on his body.

He did noticed when Jason finally decided to purposefully press against Tim’s prostate.

This pleasure was new. Foreign and overstimulating with how aggressively Jason pressed down on the spot, rubbing into it to pull all kinds of noises out of Tim he didn’t know he was capable of making.

“Jason!” Tim cried out. “Fuck, too much, I can’t-“ Tim’s stomach was cramping from how hard his muscles clenched. He was falling, losing his grip on sensible reality. His head was full of cotton, foggy and unable to get a solid grip on coherent thought.

There were only three things that existed to Tim: pain, pleasure, and Jason.

“You can’t what? Use your fucking words,” Jason mocked, vicious and uncaring. He rested Tim’s leg over his shoulder to free up his other hand. His fingers wrapped around Tim’s balls and tugged. Tim screamed and arched like a jack knife. He hadn’t noticed how close his orgasm was creeping up on him until Jason pulled it away with a brutal, carnal pain. When Tim lost control of his body, Jason found it and snatched it up, holding Tim’s pleasure in his palm. Tim wanted to curl in on himself, but he couldn’t force his limbs to obey.

“Hurts,” was all Tim could groan out. He might’ve been crying. It was hard to tell, with his face so wet with blood.

“Good.”

“Jason,” Tim tried to beg. He was lost to subspace, something he barely realized until now. “I can’t take anymore.” He wanted more. More than want, god, he needed more, but his body was wired so tight Tim was convinced he was going to snap if Jason kept going.

He wanted that too.

“That’s not for you to decide.” Jason’s rough voice was a light at the end of a tunnel Tim was struggling toward to ground himself. To focus on something besides the agony crashing over his body in brutal waves. “Do you really think you’re in the fucking state to know what you can take?”

Jason was right. Tim just whined, a noise that turned into a choked sob when Jason pulled his fingers out just enough to slam them into Tim’s sweet spot again, overwhelming him with more awful pleasure.

“Give yourself over to me,” Jason demanded. He leaned in close again. Tim’s vision was blurred, but he could smell the gunpowder and leather. “Say it. Say I own you.”

Tim wanted to. He tried, opening his mouth and struggling to get the words out. He could only make more pathetic noises.

“Say it, or I’ll stab you and leave you to fucking bleed out.”

He probably wasn’t lying.

“You-“ Tim choked on the word, shaking so hard his muscles were spasming. “You own me.” Three little words, and they were the hardest words Tim had ever tried to say. Each one fought against him, getting stuck in his throat.

But he said them. Because right now, they were the only religion Tim believed in.

“Look at that,” Jason cooed. So patronizing. “You’re not completely brainless and worthless. Yet, anyway.” He pulled his fingers out of Tim. One second those fingers had been driving Tim mad because they were inside of him, and now they were driving him mad because they left him empty and wanting.

His body needed more. More pain, more pleasure. Until he broke and Jason fucked the shattered pieces left of Tim.

Jason got a hand underneath Tim, using the blood from the gash on Tim’s back to slick his fingers this time. That gash was far deeper. Something that probably needed stitches. It had started trying to clot but Jason agitated it enough for fresh blood to pour out. He was able to actually work his fingers under Tim’s bloody skin, making Tim shriek and try to pull away.

There was nowhere for him to escape from the mind-numbing pain. When he pulled away, he just crashed into Jason’s chest, forehead bumping against the bat symbol of Jason’s suit.

“So fucking easy to push your buttons,” Jason laughed. He moved his fingers around a bit more just to make his point and pull more wounded noises out of Tim. Then he finally pulled them free and let Tim fall back to the hard ground. It knocked the wind out of Tim.

He didn’t have a chance to try to get air into his lungs. Because Jason slicked himself up with a disturbing speed and lined up. The warning of blunt pressure against Tim’s hole lasted a fraction of a second and then Jason snapped his hips. Buried to the hilt.

Tim almost passed out.

He didn’t know if it was from the pain, the blood loss, or his body’s inability to get oxygen into his lungs. Everything exploded inside of Tim. He was full, so full so fast. Jason’s fingers hadn’t been nearly kind enough to properly stretch Tim for Jason’s size. It almost felt like being stabbed.

Over and over, as Jason fucked into Tim with no kindness.

A hard slap across Tim’s face forced him off of the edge of unconsciousness. He gasped, eyes snapping open to find Jason’s face right above his, the glowing eyes of the mask taking over Tim’s field of vision.

Jason was smiling. Blood on his teeth, dripping out of his mouth. Was it his blood or Tim’s?

Tim hoped it was both.

“I don’t know which Bruce would find more pathetic,” Jason groaned as he fucked into Tim, pulling small screams out of Tim with each punch of his cock, “you putting on that suit, or you letting me fuck you in it.” He brought his lips to Tim’s ear. “Who’s ruining his legacy now?”

If the physical pain wasn’t bad enough, Jason knew exactly how to rip open the wounds of Tim’s emotional pain alongside it. Tim cried out at the thought.

What would Bruce think of him, like this? Pathetic and barely human underneath Jason Todd?

“And they call me the failed Robin,” Jason just kept talking, like he wasn’t destroying Tim from the inside out. “At least I know how to be something other than Robin. Are you really delusional enough to think you’re going to be the next Batman?” A long moan came out of him and he thrust even harder until Tim screamed loud enough to make himself dizzy. “Answer me.”

Tim just shook his head. “No.” His voice was broken. His throat was sore from screaming, but the word still came out. He’d never thought he really could be Batman. So what the hell was he thinking, putting this suit on?

“Good.” Jason slid his fingers under the bat symbol on Tim’s chest, one of the only parts of the suit in tact. He ripped it off, the fabric tearing loudly in Tim’s ears. “It’s good you know your fucking place.” Jason changed his angle, finding Tim’s battered prostate again. Tim didn’t have the air in his lungs to scream anymore. All he could do was weakly mewl and whimper.

He could die like this. He honestly might. Tim had no idea how his body was holding on, in this state. Maybe it was the pain and pleasure alone keeping him alive. Just so he could soak up every touch from Jason.

Tim was never going to allow himself to do this again. So he had to enjoy it while it lasted.

This time, Tim felt his orgasm creeping up on him. His fingers dug into Jason’s arm and he pressed up into Jason’s warmth. The material of Jason’s suit was rough and unforgiving. It didn’t feel particularly good for Tim to grind his cock against, but he didn’t care. He needed any kind of friction, whether it brought him pleasure or road rash.

“I won’t stop if you come,” Jason warned, still hammering into Tim at a pace that should’ve been impossible for a normal human to manage. “This isn’t to make you feel good. It’s to put you in your fucking place.”

Tim could only whine, managing a nod of understanding. This was his place. He knew that. He never wanted to leave it.

The threat of being fucked into overstimulation hung over Tim’s head, but he couldn’t stop himself from chasing the high of his orgasm. He almost wanted to feel the overstimulation. Like his orgasm was just something to get over with so Tim could completely give himself over to Jason. To be used just for Jason’s pleasure, even if it brought him nothing but more pain.

That thought made Tim’s balls tighten. The only warning he could give Jason was a high pitched keen that barely sounded like Tim’s own voice. His eyes rolled back.

The pleasure of his orgasm didn’t overtake the screaming pain in the rest of his body. It just mixed with the pain, swirling into one intense feeling Tim didn’t have a name for. He screamed until his throat gave out. His back arched and he clenched around Jason, who kept driving into him. Jason growled in Tim’s ear. He was holding Tim’s hip so tight there would be bruises that would end up indistinguishable from the rest of Tim’s injuries.

All injuries that Jason gave Tim. Tim’s body was a canvass, and Jason’s favorite color to paint with was the red that poured out of Tim.

It was the best orgasm Tim had ever felt. No feeling was ever going to match this intensity.

Tim came down from his high with an awful wheeze, shuddering. He clung to Jason, like a guard dog laying at the feet of his master.

“Fuck,” Jason moaned. A shudder ran down his spine and his pace faltered, just for a moment. “You’re really something else, Drake.” From Jason, that was practically a compliment for Tim to soak up and preen under.

Tim’s body tipped over the edge of overstimulation. His survival instincts kicked in, trying to fight Jason. There was no strength behind his kicks and hits. They just made Jason laugh as Tim made a fool of himself.

“I own you,” Jason reminded Tim. He caught Tim’s wrist and pinned it against the cold concrete, squeezing tight enough to cut off circulation to Tim’s fingers. “I can do whatever I want to your useless body. Don’t try to fight it now.” He leaned down and found an exposed part of Tim’s neck to sink his teeth into. It wasn’t a hickey, but a proper bite, breaking Tim’s skin.

Tim cried out, but still tilted his head to the side to give Jason better access to his neck. Even when his body wanted to fight, Tim managed to submit. Like the submission was natural to him.

The pain took over. Tim just floated in it, forcing himself to go limp. Submit. No more fighting. He gave in to Jason and stopping thinking. All Tim needed to do was feel. Feel every point of agony scattered across his body. Feel Jason fucking him. Using him, like Tim was nothing more than a toy. The sparks from Jason slamming into his sweet spot couldn’t be called pleasure anymore, with Tim’s cock spent and limp. It was more pain.

Better that way. Tim liked the pain more. Delicious and mind-numbing.

Jason was swearing against Tim’s skin. He mumbled something Tim didn’t catch. Three syllables. Short and rushed out. Tim was almost convinced the second word was love. Maybe he was making it up in his head though, finally lost in utter delirium.

Tim didn’t care.

More insults fell from Jason’s lips. Calling Tim nothing, worthless, pathetic. A cheap pretender who deserved this. Tim agreed with all of it, feverishly nodding. The words were practically sweet nothings in Tim’s ears.

Jason yelled Tim’s name when he came. His hips stuttered to a stop, buried deep inside of Tim. He knew Jason was coming inside of him, but his body was too battered to feel Jason’s cum filling his insides. Shame that was. Tim wanted to know how it felt, to be claimed by Jason in this carnal way.

They were both so perfectly still, for two people who had been shaking and clawing at each other just moments ago. The only noise was heavy breathing that echoed through the night.

Tim swallowed. He tried to find himself through the pain. He worked through the body checklist that Bruce gave him. Vision. Smell. Taste. Feel. Sound. All the sensations clashed against each other, out of focus and pounding against Tim’s skull.

It was so hard to think.

Tim groaned. Focus.

Like cold water thrown on his face, he clawed his way out of subspace. Tim got a good look at Jason’s face.

“Are you crying?” Tim voiced the thought as soon as it crossed his mind.

With the mask, it was hard to tell. Jason’s breathing was shuddered, hitching on every inhale. Tim wouldn’t call it sobbing, but it was close enough for Tim to study Jason’s face. The wetness coming out from under Jason’s mask wasn’t red. It streaked through the blood.

Tear tracks.

Jason’s completely rational response was to punch Tim in the face.

Tim swore and curled in on himself, cupping his nose. If it wasn’t broken before, it was now. Jason pulled out of Tim without any care and stood up, leaving him curled up on the ground, trying to set the broken bone and manage the bleeding.

Tim tried to sit up. His arms and legs gave out under him and he slammed back to the ground with a pained noise. He looked up at Jason, squinting. Watching as Jason tucked himself back into his pants, then snatched his gloves off the ground to put them back on.

Despite clearly losing the fight, Tim had done a number on Jason. Jason’s face was bloody and his suit was ripped and torn in some places. He looked like he had been mauled by a wild animal.

If that was how Jason looked, Tim couldn’t imagine what the sight of his own body was.

His second attempt to sit up worked. Now, he compartmentalized. Forced the pain deep into the corners of his mind and locked it up.

Tim had to be functional now. He couldn’t let the regret and shame get to him.

“I-“ Jason started to say something. It was only one word, but it sounded uncharacteristically soft, making Tim straighten his back and hold his breath. But Jason cleared his throat and folded his arms, stamping down whatever kindness had almost come out. “I’ll throw you a bone. If any of the Bats find you like this you can just tell them I raped you,” he said it like some kind of mean joke.

Tim didn’t say anything. That wasn’t true. They both knew it.

“Preserve your precious dignity you care so much about, huh?” Jason continued. He sounded unsure of himself and he turned away from Tim.

“Jason-“ Tim reached out for him. “We can still-“ he struggled for the words. “It doesn’t have to end like this. You can still change. I’ll-“

“Don’t,” Jason snapped. He kicked away Tim’s hand. “We both know it’s too late for that.” He started to walk away. “Never wear that suit again, Drake. I’d hate to see you die to someone that isn’t me.” He almost sounded… protective? Tim wouldn’t call it fondness, but maybe something close to that. Tim refused to allow himself to read into it. Whoever Jason Todd had become, he was someone that Tim couldn’t save. He was someone who didn’t want to be saved, no matter how Tim felt about him. Tim had to accept that, even with Jason’s cum deep inside him. Some truths were immutable.

Then, Jason was gone. Vanishing into the shadows and leaving Tim there.

Tim tilted his head back. He allowed himself thirty seconds. He counted them. Thirty seconds to sit in his own filth and feel the pain for just a little longer, before he had to move and figure out how he was going to get home in one piece without anyone finding out what happened here.

Just ten more seconds.

Five.

Three.

One.

With grit teeth and a deep breath, Tim stood up.

#necrotic writings #jaytim #tim drake x jason todd #jason todd x tim drake #timjay #dead dove do not eat #battle for the cowl #cross posted on ao3 #batcest #sorry this sat in my inbox for a couple days anon #i was like 'hehe i'll write a lil pwp for this'#and it ended up over 6k words. god help me.#this is proof that if you send an idea to my inbox there is a good chance i will just write you a fic.#you might have to wait a couple days but i will come for you with food and chaos.#anyway this is a smidge dark as a fic fair warning #bc idk how else to write them fucking during bftc 2 #masochist tim drake you will always be famous to me #once again wasn't gonna put this one on ao3 bc i felt it was gonna be too short for that effort #then it goes and ends up this long.#my partner always laughs at me when i do this. bc i keep doing it.#pls enjoy <3 i wrote most of this while in a lot of pain so #me and tim were twinning there.#while posting this my roommate's kitten used me as a jungle gym. she's my editor in chief.

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