#jason Todds suffering in fanfiction

[ao3statistics]

Here you go! The charts resulting from the poll!

Date of creation: 05.01.2024

The second chart is the more detailed version including more tags.

I excluded the meta tag "Hurt Jason Todd" (more than 2000 tags) because its subtags are already on the chart.

I assume no guarantee or liability for the completeness, correctness and accuracy of this chart despite my best efforts.

Includes fanfictions in all languages available on Ao3, NOT English only.

More charts will follow. :)

Want to have a chart for different pairings, headcanons etc. in your favourite fandom? Send me an ask!

[ghost-bxrd]

Tim flicks a French fry at him, “Your reputation needs work.”

Jason’s eyes flicker an acidic green, the smile curving along his mouth turning dark. “You sure about that?”

“Yes,” Tim says, a shiver running down his spine.

It’s unnerving, sure. Being trapped under that gaze. Feeling like a rabbit with a fox’s jaws clamped around its spine, waiting for-

Tim chokes on a French fry, hunching over, and Jason is quick to slap him on the back, almost booting him clean off the roof in the process.

“Easy, replacement,” he grunts when Tim is no longer in danger of a truly embarrassing death, “Fuck’s sake, I can shoot people in front of you and you ain’t batting an eye, but some mild threats do you in?”

“You’re very-“ Hot. And pretty much everything Tim’s ever dreamed of. And also his crush since, like, forever. And now miraculously back from the dead, and also-

“Intimidating,” he finishes lamely.

— sneak peak of the JayTim spite fic :)

[sophiethewitch1]

In Death's Embrace Pt. 2

Jason Todd x Death!Reader

Part one!

Jason shoots up in bed, his hand stretched out. He’s sweating, drenched in his own panic in fear. His hand falls into his lap, still twitching. He doesn’t remember what he was dreaming about, doesn’t remember what he was trying to grasp.

He knows he failed. He knows it slipped through his fingers like sand. He doesn’t think there’s anything more tragic in the world. He doesn't know why.

“Once again, you amaze me. Breaking the rules of the universe, not once, but twice.”

His hand is wrapped around his gun before you even finish the sentence. It’s pointed between your eyes once you do. To your credit, whoever just broke into his apartment without triggering any of his alarms, you don’t even flinch. No, you just fold your hands behind your back and give him an odd look.

You tilt your head, eyes moving over the scars on his face and catching on the lock of white hair he sports. Then, your face breaks into a smile, and something in Jason’s heart jumps. There’s a knowing in your eyes that he doesn’t like. An understanding.

You see through him, somehow. He doesn’t like it. He’ll shoot you for the offence.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?” Jason demands, assessing you like you assess him. You don’t look like a combatant, in long dark flowing fabrics. Still, he knows not to underestimate someone based on their appearance.

That damned clown never looked like a threat. And now he was standing here, with someone who seemed just as crazy in his bedroom. Only someone that crazy would break into his home.

“Are you going to shoot me?” your words are teasing, eyes fond. Maybe you’re crazier, then. You don’t believe he’ll do it. He will.

He should have already. It’s base curiosity that holds his trigger finger. That’s what he thinks it is, at least.

“I might,” he finally says, “Again, who the fuck are you?”

“It’s interesting talking to you like this. You knew who I was straight away last time, but this time you turn your weapon to me,” you continue, ignoring his threat. A muscle jumps in his cheek, annoyed at your presence, at your blatant disregard for him.

“Last time?”

Your smile turns into a bright grin. He’s momentarily stunned by it.

“So, you really haven’t won just yet. That gives me a small measure of pride,” you say, walking over to the window with your hands still behind your back, “Maybe enough to spare you from my anger.”

You look over at him again. Purse your lips.

“Maybe not.”

“I think you forget who is holding the gun,” Jason reminds you, clicking his teeth at the way you just shrug.

You go quiet. No more teasing words or ominous warnings. Jason should shoot, shoot now. He’d hate the cleanup, hate the mess, hate all the effort, but it was necessary. You were dangerous. That much was obvious.

Instead, he opens his big dumb mouth and asks, “What do you want?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Is it terrible I don’t know? Rules are rules after all, but this situation is… complicated. You’re not another Sisyphus, you don’t even want to be here.”

“You broke into my home and started threatening me. That doesn’t sound complicated,” Jason insists. This is such a fucking weird conversation. And Sisyphus? Jason had done his homework, he knew about the mythical man who cheated death. He thinks he’s actually quite a lot like Sisyphus.

He still doesn’t appreciate the comparison.

“Yes well, I don’t want to be here either, de-” your voice cuts off, eyes widen in surprise, and then narrow on him like he caused some great offence. Inside him, he feels his dead little heart wither even further at the sight. Like you being upset with him was one of the worst mistakes of his life.

Once again, you broke into his house. All he’d done was tell you to get lost. Oh, and maybe threaten to shoot you, but who cares about that. He soothes the momentary panic, insisting you obviously hadn’t.

Which is dumb. He’s being an idiot. Jason Todd is being an absolute moron right now, and he just needs to shoot you.

Instead of paying attention to the gun trained on you, you stare out his window, at the streets of Gotham’s Hill district below. The sun is rising, rays bursting through the fog. The people are just getting up with it. It’s one of the few times the city is anything close to quiet. Most are still sleeping, and so is crime.

Warm sunlight catches on your cheek, and again, something inside Jason cries out at the sight. It’s worrying.

“I think I want you dead, again,” you confess.

Jason’s breath whooshes out of his lips, and his gun arm twitches for a second. Well, fuck him, that’s certainly a statement. And again, why hadn’t he shot you?

He still doesn’t do it. He must be crazy, too.

“I’m being greedy. I always have been, of course. It’s what I am… But especially this time, I think I’m being too greedy,” you sound sad, your fingers trailing across the wooden window frame, “I think I shouldn’t be here, but it’s the ones like you who make it hard.”

You rub dust against your fingers, and Jason feels embarrassed for the state of his home. He realises a second later what a stupid thought that is, you broke in. He wonders how many times he’ll have to repeat it to remember it. He feels uncomfortable and off-kilter, and he knows it’s because of you.

He needs to get you out.

“I’ve always hated the special ones, you know. The smart ones. You’re too good at pulling me, manipulating me, tugging on my strings like a puppet. You make me human,” you turn back to him, crossing your arms and resting against the sill. You’re comfortable in his home, more so than he usually is. Calm, relaxed, like the world is at peace, and worries are something of the past.

He wonders what that must be like. Fucking delightful, he bets.

“Are you not human?”

You raise an eyebrow in response.

Shit. Ah, fuck it. His finger tightens, and the recoil jerks his arm. The silencer keeps the early apartment quiet. Quiet, if not for the sound of the bullet clattering to the ground.

You both glance down at the crumpled piece of metal sitting pathetically on the floor. You lean over, pick the piece up, and then lift it to your eye, watching that same sunlight reflecting the early morning in the steel. A small rainbow flitters across your skin. You close your fist, and you stroll over to Jason.

It takes him a moment to remember to be wary of you, and by that time, you already have his hand cradled between yours.

You place the remnants of the bullet in his scarred palm.

“I expect an apology for that later,” your voice is soft, sweet. Loving, even after he shot you in the chest. Not like it did anything. Your fingers curl around his, tracing every crack and crevice. You do it with concentration, with precision, like you were made just to touch him, to comfort him.

A memory, gone in a flash. He feels it’s loss like a toothache.

He swallows, “I’m sorry.”

You laugh, and the sun’s not outside, it’s in his bedroom and it’s smiling and it’s everything and it’s here in his grasp and he knows it’ll be okay again. It has to be okay again. You said it’d be okay, didn’t you? He can’t remember. His head’s swirling, spinning, falling right into you. Right back into you.

“Or now, that’s fine too,” you sound delighted. He’s glad.

You let go of him, and move back to the window, drawn by the view outside. Jason's hand clasp and unclasp. The street obviously fascinates you, your eyes flicking back and forth and tracking the movement of every soul outside. He wants your gaze back on him.

Jason clears his throat. You glance back at him, then pointedly, his right hand.

He can feel his face flush, embarrassingly. He’s still holding the gun. He turns the safety off and tucks it back under his pillow.

He clears his throat again. He wants something from you, expects it, really. But he can’t tell what it is. He thinks you know, though. That you’re withholding it, for some reason. He’s irrationally irritated at that. You said you were greedy, but nothing could compare to his greed.

Even if you wanted him dead. He was starting to put together the pieces, but he couldn’t seem to feel alarmed. No, it simply wasn’t necessary, with you here.

Still, it’s not quite enough. He wants more. He wants to know more. So he waits for you to speak again.

“I’ve thought about doing this so many times over the years. It would’ve been selfish, and more than that, outside of my duty. You’re not one of mine anymore. For a little while, at least.”

He wants to be. He wants to be yours. He wants it more than he can breathe. If he’s yours, maybe you can be his.

You glance to the side, thinking out loud, “But then you went and started remembering. I’ve worked very hard to make sure that’s impossible, you know. That the memories from my realm stay there.”

You turn a disapproving glance his way.

“Of course, far be it for me to get in the way of a Wayne and his decision to break the world. You lot do that far too much, give me too much work,” you mutter that last part, hand moving to your brow. Like you’re massaging away a headache. He should be doing that for you.

“But you did it. And you’re here. And now I am, too. And I have to go soon.”

You drift closer to him, and Jason’s breath catches. He’s still. He doesn’t make a single movement, scared he’ll scare you away. He realises that’s stupid. That you caught a bullet to the chest. That you’re stronger than anything he could imagine.

He still thinks he could startle you if he’s not careful. That you’re like the mist outside, incorporeal. But Jason can do anything if he puts his mind to it. He knows how to catch the wind, how to gather steam on the underside of glass, how to cup sand and water and feathers and everything that would ever want to be outside of his reach.

You’re out of his reach. He has to let you step into it.

You stop a foot away from him. He grinds his teeth, and again, you raise a brow at him. He doesn’t move, despite his muscles screaming at him too. You give him a nod and take another step closer. He still doesn’t move, and you give him a satisfied look.

“So, what should we do, Jason?”

“How do you know my name?”

“What? Did dying strip you of any brains?”

The banter is familiar. He doesn’t mean to ruin it.

“Do you have to leave?” again, a voice in his mind whispers. You look sad, again. Again, again, again. All of this is an again.

“Eventually. Sooner rather than later,” you sigh, “You can keep a secret, can’t you, Jason?”

“Not if you leave.”

It’s a bold move. You take a step back, and he winces. Back and forth, back and forth… Still, he doesn’t take the words back. He can’t, because it’s the truth, and now that you’re here, there’s no going back. He’ll do anything to keep you with him, and if you go too far for him to reach, he’ll follow you.

“I think that’s an unfair request,” you say, and he shakes his head.

“It’s fair. You don’t have to stay forever, just a while.” Now that, that is a lie. You seem to know it, too.

You look out the window again. Jason, after a moment's hesitation, moves over beside you. You don’t flee, your attention is on the people below. He opens the window for you, and you give him another smile. He collects them like the rare treasures they are. You lean out into the air, and he freaks, then realises you’d shrugged off a bullet. He stays close, vigilant, anyway.

“I’m curious, I have to admit. What’s this place like?” you ask, resting elbows on the wood. The streets are foggy, as they usually are in the morning. The Hill isn’t the nicest place, not the cleanest either, but you look at it like it’s heaven incarnate. He can see his neighbour down at the local grocer, the old woman who hoards cats seeing her grandson off to school, and one of his guys hanging out on the street, keeping the space safe.

Under his orders. The Hill wasn’t the nicest place, but he liked to keep it as nice as possible.

...Peaceful, he wanted the people here to have their peace. He was obsessed with it, really.

“It sucks.”

You laugh again, music to his ears, “Not the best advertising.”

“I take it back, it’s the best place on earth,” he replies, barely paying attention to his words. He’s seeing how close he can get to you. How many inches he can claim. His face is almost in your neck by the time you lean back, and he curses under his breath.

“It doesn’t need to be,” you say, pushing away from the sill and turning to wander around his room. You take in everything about the space. From the general mess, to the Jane Austen books crammed into his bookshelf, to the mask he’s left half-hazard on his bedstand.

You watch it all, just as fascinated with the world outside as the one inside. He wants to believe that means he’s special to you. And if it doesn’t, that just means he needs to work a little harder.

Finally, you turn to him. You take in every facet of him, once again. Your all-knowing gaze finds his hair again. You seem especially fascinated by that. You lift your hands, and he’s in them before he realises he’s moved.

You map his features with your hands, and he makes a little sound in the back of his throat. Ignoring that, you wipe the bags under his eyes. He feels his sanity slip away under your touch. You trace the scar on his chin, the one above his left brow. The stubble along his jaw. The bump in his nose. The edge of his lips. He wonders at the smirk you give when he groans. And finally, you come to that strand of hair.

You tug on it. A memory fizzles again, and to his frustration, he can’t quite grab it. Can’t quite take it, claim it. It’s not his, not yet.

You haven’t given him permission to remember. He wants it, he wants it, he needs it.

“I think I can stay, maybe. Just for a little, just a little. You want that, right?” your hands cup his face, and he knows, somehow, that you’ve done this a thousand times. And if this is the thousand-and-first time you’ve held him like this, he’s glad. To be back in your embrace is the sweetest pleasure. The greatest relief.

“Yes. Yes, yes… yes, I do,” he’s nodding, he’s begging, he’s pleading with you. Just for a moment more, just a second more. Just a little bit more, before you let him go again. He leans down and presses his forehead to you, sighing in your scent, the wheat reeds in the wind, the warm sun on skin.

He wonders what he has to do to make sure you never let go again. He wonders if you’ll let him do it.

You shake your head, giving him a rueful smile, “You really are too cute, darling.”

That nickname. The key to his heart, his mind. Every single barrier keeping him from you is gone, crumbled by your will. He is thankful you’ve given them back. He is thankful for every moment you ever had with him. And he’ll make a thousand more.

He presses his lips to yours, arms holding you close. When you melt into him, sigh into the kiss, he feels a euphoria he didn’t know could be true. He feels a relief he didn’t know even in his days under, even when you only held him.

He feels alive with it.

“Thank you for coming back,” he whispers against you, and he can feel that familiar, that damning smile spread.

“You left me. I had to hunt you down myself, Jason dear.”

Maybe he couldn’t have his peaceful death. But he had a loving one, and that was all he needed.

[jasonsbruce]

sooo... i'm a mess ˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

part 2

[soulless-bex]

was listening to music while driving, as one does, when my brain, the silly little thing goes:

wouldn’t it be funny if dick grayson killed the joker (who stays dead because he deserves to be) for killing jason and goes through a whole breakdown over whether or not jason would approve of what he did, ultimately deciding that no, jason the happy robin would not be happy with his big brother, no matter how strained their relationship may have been before his death, killing a man out of revenge

cue jason as red hood, pre identify reveal, asking nightwing about what happened to the joker (because of course bruce had it covered up, because in his twisted little mind, a vigilante permanently taking out the mass murderer who is singlehandedly the number one cause of death in gotham would break the gothamites’ trust in them). nightwing admits, because since the joker is dead jason doesn’t have a reason to push the dramatics as much, he’s just fucking with the bats and keeping crime alley safe, and jason has his turn at a breakdown because he just found out someone actually avenged him

emotional reunion. everyone is happy. the end.

[robinsegghead]

Danny's Daycare Part 2

[Master List]

The first few days that the daycare was technically ‘open’ he didn’t have a single kid. This was to be expected, Danny was an unknown for the most part, people didn’t trust him, even the people he’d met who mentioned considering it were right to be wary. But they would grow to trust him. He’d been volunteering at soup kitchens, leaving fliers in mailboxes and doorsteps, and spent a great deal of time in public spaces so that people would know who he was, and hoped Lady Gotham would maybe sway her people to trust him a bit.

            On the Thursday after opening, things changed.

            He was sat at his desk doing an ungodly amount of paperwork (being a king was not in fact, a sweet deal), when he heard the door open.

            A young Latina woman carrying a bundle in her arms walked in warily.

            “Hi.” Danny smiled brightly, reigning in his excitement so as not to scare the woman off.

            She looked around for a moment, stopping quite a ways away from his desk. “Is this the daycare?”

            He nodded. “It is. Pretty new so I don’t have any kiddos yet, but I can be patient.” He was, in fact, a liar.

            “I don’t have a lot.”

            He shook his head. “Oh, you misunderstand,” He knew nobody liked being a charity case, especially not Gothamites, so he went with the lie he and Jazz had come up with when he first started. “this daycare is sponsored by a very wealthy anonymous donor, it’s completely free.”

            She eyes him skeptically. “I wouldn’t come here if I wasn’t desperate.” Ouch. But fair. “I got called in for a shift but my husbands at work and their abuela’s out of town.” She hesitated, looking between her kid and Danny.

            “Well, that’s what I’m here for. I can show you around if you have time?” He offered, hoping his openness would comfort her. She nodded firmly and he moved towards the double doors to their right. “Okay, so this is the main room, we’ve got toys, books, and coloring materials, brand new donations.” She took it in slowly. “We’ve got bathrooms right over there, a cafeteria through those doors, and a room for naps on the other side of the entryway, I’m planning on installing a playground after the worst of winter is over, and this,” he handed her his card. “is my information. Feel free to look me up, run a background check, whatever you need to do to feel comfortable leaving your kid with me.”

            Skepticism was obvious on her face. “Why?”

            “Why what?”

            “Why do this? What do you gain?”

He shrugged. “I like to be helpful. I’m paid reasonably. It’s my job. Take your pick.”

            Another question seemed to be forming when her phone went off. “Shit.” Gently setting her child down -it looked like a boy- she checked it. “I have to go. Emilio,” She crouched in front of the boy. “Mama has to go to work, papa will be here to pick you up in a few hours, behave.”

            He gave another smile, hoping it made him look innocent and trustworthy.

            “My husband will be by to pick him up by three, Emilio is four, fully potty-trained, and likes reading. He ate an early lunch before we came here so don’t feed him.” Her tone was serious, and he nodded resolutely. “I….” She looked torn.

            Offering a gentler smile, he crouched down. “Hey Emilio, my name’s Danny, I heard you like reading?” The little boy nodded, his black curls falling in his wide eyes. “Lucky for you, I have a whole shelf of brand-new books, you wanna give them a look?” The little boys’ eyes widened, and he nodded.

            As Emilio looked over the shelves of books, Danny reassured the mother. “I’ll look after him, don’t worry, he will be safe with me.”

            That was the beginning of Danny’s Daycare. He wouldn’t pretend everything went smoothly after that. It was another two weeks before Emilio’s mother (Ana) brought him back and another week before anyone else dropped their kids off. Jazz helped him create the necessary paperwork to have filled out by parents about their kids and he was able to get important information about each of them which he promptly memorized.

            The daycare had been open for two months (to the day) and Danny had three regular kids. Emilio, who was four, loved reading, and wasn’t shy, Clara, who was a little blonde spitfire, five years old, and had claimed the trainsets as ‘hers’, and Booker, Danny had fondly nicknamed him ‘Boo’.

            Booker was two and a half, and the first of Danny’s kids who was not fully potty-trained upon meeting him. No big deal, he could change diapers, it wasn’t fun per se, but it was a part of the job he’d signed up for when he advertised his daycare being for kids six months to six years. Booker liked anything shiny, Danny had specifically bought shiny toys the night after first meeting the kid and was rewarded with oud and happy shrieks at the new toys.

            March passed in a blur.

            Life was good.

~~~

            It was after a long day at the beginning of April that Danny found himself walking home from work and attempting to ignore the nearby gunshots he was hearing. He wasn’t a vigilante. That wasn’t his problem. He’d come to Gotham to open a daycare, not fly around, and stop crime. This was Red Hood’s territory; he’d deal with it.

            But when the gunshots stopped Danny started to feel unsettled. After a solid minute of trying to shake the feeling that something was wrong, something he needed to fix, he gave up and moved towards where the commotion had been coming from.

            The alley was seemingly empty but as Danny peered closer (thank Ancients for his ability to see in the dark almost as well as in the light) he noticed a foot sticking out from being a dumpster. Carefully making his way towards the body, he made sure not to make a noise. He didn’t want to alert any lingering goons to his presence.

            “You’re a sneaky one, aint’chya?”

            Danny made eye contact with the man on the ground but not before noting the heavy flow of blood seeping through his shirt or the gun in the hand that wasn’t trying to keep the blood inside his body. “It comes in handy.”

            “I bet.” He grunted.

            Putting his hands up, palms out, Danny moved closer slowly. “Can I help you?”

            The man eyed him warily. “Depends.”

            “On what?”

            “Who you workin’ for?”

            Danny didn’t know what the wrong answer was, so he was just honest. “Nobody. I work for myself.”

            “Eveybody’s workin’ for someone, kid. Who ya workin’ for?”

            Okay so that didn’t work. If he pushed the idea that he worked for himself the man was more likely to think he was a spy or goon for some other mob boss. Who would be safest? Who could he say he worked for that this man might not try to shoot him?

            “Technically?” He tried to sound casual. “I work for Red Hood. But I don’t really do the whole… guns and fighting thing. I volunteer at soup kitchens and stuff.”

            With only a moment’s hesitation, the man lowered the gun and grunted. “Hood’s one a the good’uns.”

            Danny pressed forward quickly, disposing of the man’s shirt and assessing the wound. The bullet had gone straight through, and it seemed like it missed any vital organs -lucky- but he’d lost a lot of blood. “I’ve got to get you to Dr. Thompkins clinic. Let me help you up.” The man grunted as Danny pulled him to his feet and supported the entirety of his weight. “Come on.” Danny heaved, pretending the man’s weight was actually difficult for him.

            It wasn’t.

            When Danny had first arrived in Gotham he’d done as much research as he could. Some things he didn’t think were particularly important (who cares which model Brucie Wayne brought to his newest gala?) but others he found to be very valuable. Like a free clinic that didn’t send people to hospitals or call the cops, where everything was kept confidential. It sounded too good to be true, but he’d looked into it and found that Dr. Thompkins was legit as was her practice.

            (He had a sneaking suspicion she was heavily funded by Bruce Wayne)

            “Is there someone I should call to pick you up?” Danny asked, feigning a struggle with the man’s weight.

            He grunted. “I’ll make it home alright, kid.”

            Danny waited a moment before asking the question he’d been thinking since he’d first heard the gunshots. “What happened? You a goon?”

            The man continued to struggle forward. He huffed. “Yeah, kid, Imma goon. Needed money, found m’self in the middle’a somethin’ bad. This’s just a warnin’.” Danny hummed, helping the man up the stairs at the front of the clinic. “I can manage from ‘ere kid.”

            “Danny.” He offered a tight smile. “My name is Danny, I run a daycare in the Bowery. When you’re all healed up, come find me. I’d like to offer you a job that doesn’t involve guns or drugs.”

            The man looked at him incredulously before turning back to the door. “See you around, kid.”

            “See you later, sir.”

            The man barked a laugh. “Bianchi. Victor Bianchi. And yes, you will.”

~~~

            The snow had finally melted, and Danny was finally able to get the playground he wanted installed behind the daycare. He’d taken ideas from his friends on what would be the most fun and diverse. After that was taken care of he’d need to build a fence as well, but that wouldn’t take long at all. Unfortunately, with the snow gone Gotham was now rainy about eighty percent of the time. Danny hadn’t been ready for that.

            It was on such a day that Danny found himself walking home, soaked to the bone, catching his death (ha) of chill, when he met his new best friend. He’d almost made it back to the apartment (which had been under construction for the last few months, repairing each apartments living conditions) when he found a soggy carboard box housing what used to be a white cat but was now closer to brown with mud and grime.

            The cat was meowing in a pitiful way, so Danny thought maybe it was asking for help. Upon closer inspection he found three smaller cats nestled into her belly, water soaking through the box and dripping onto their tiny bodies. Without much thought, Danny scooped the box up and rushed it to his apartment. Once inside he transferred them to another box (thank Ancients he hadn’t thrown them all out after moving) with a warm blanket.

            He didn’t bother changing his clothes as he was about to go out once again- he knew there was an emergency vet open until eleven on weeknights just a few blocks away so he had plenty of time, but he had no idea how long the cats had been sitting in a puddle and couldn’t wait. Swiping an umbrella (when had he gotten an umbrella?) he rushed back out making sure to keep the box dry the entire way.

            He paid very little attention to his surroundings on the way, someone could easily be following him or trying to get his attention and he wouldn’t know it. He had been accused of having tunnel vision in the past. He wasn’t sure why. Pushing through the doors he hastened to the front counter.

            “Hi, how can we help you?” The vet tech asked politely, still typing on her computer, not bothering to look up at Danny.

            Danny evened his breathing (why was it so fast? He didn’t need to breath what the fu-) “I found this cat and her kittens in a wet box and wanted to make sure they were okay. They were really cold and shivering when I found them so I switched them to a dry box with a blanket and brought them as quickly as I could.”

            She nodded. “Okay, we should be able to take a look while you fill out this paperwork if that’s okay?” He nodded, handing the box to another tech who quickly took them to a different room. “We’ll just need some information from you, I’m sure you don’t know a lot about the cats since you just found them. Are you planning on keeping them or do we need to find a shelter to take them?”

            As a kid Danny had always wanted a pet. Of course, he’d wanted a dog and his parents Maddie and Jack had said no because a dog would disrupt their workspace, but he’d been willing to settle for a cat if it meant he could have a companion. He’d done all of the research required on owning a dog. He’d been shot down. So he did the research for cats and been told no once again. He’d done the research for rabbits and ferrets and snakes and lizards and fish but every time- ‘no Danny, we don’t need a pet’.

Eventually he’d gotten Cujo who was close to what he’d always wanted. He was a little busy for a normal pet at that point so he’d kind of Given up on it. He’d never considered getting a pet once he’d moved out on his own- he’d lived in the Infinite Realms, and he had Cujo there so it hadn’t occurred to him.

            He didn’t have time for cats! He was already busy with the daycare every weekday and visiting the realms on Saturdays and seeing Jazz on Sunday mornings and doing a group call on Sunday evenings- “Yes. I’ll keep them.”

            Well. Okay then.

            Someone needed to teach him to shut up.

            She nodded again, typing some things before printing the paperwork. “Okay, I’ll need your name and some contact information. You can go into that room and fill it out while the vet looks them over.” She nodded towards the room he’d seen the cats taken into.

            Throwing a ‘thank you’ over his shoulder, he pushed his way into the exam room. The mama cat and her kittens were laying on the blanket Danny had brought on the exam table. Mama was licking her kittens clean while the vet tech typed some information on the computer.

            “Ah, hello. I’m Margot.”

            “Danny.”

            She smiled, glancing at the screen before turning back. “Okay so mama is in good health and two of the kittens are as well. The orange one seems to be sick, I’m thinking pneumonia, but we won’t know without further tests. It’s treatable and I’m not too worried, he seems strong otherwise. I’d guess they’re three, maybe four weeks old. The orange one is a boy, the calico is a girl, and the white one is also a girl. Any questions?”

            “Uh… do you need to keep them over night, or can we get these tests done in the next couple of hours?”

            “It won’t take that long, maybe an hour or so to get the tests done and send you on your way. I heard you found them; do you have the things necessary to take care of cats?” He shook his head. “Hm, that’s fine, we have a volunteer here who will help you get everything you need from the in-building store while we finish the tests, I’ll go get him.” She opened the door and disappeared.

            Danny let mama cat sniff his hand. Once he’d met her approval, he gently touched each kittens’ heads, offering little scratches of comfort before offering mama the same treatment. “You guys are gonna come live with me, okay?” He let Mama go back to cleaning her babies while he filled out the paperwork- phone number, home address, name, etc.

            “Tyler informed me you are ill-prepared for the responsibility of owning cats.”

            Danny jumped, unsure how this kid had managed to sneak up on him. He was Danny’s height, with black hair, dark skin, green eyes, and a serious look on his face. Dumbstruck (because seriously how did a teenager sneak up on the king of the infinite realms?), Danny nodded.

            “Who’s Tyler?” Danny asked, dumbly.

            Raising an eyebrow, the boy huffed. “The tech you just spoke with. Margot Tyler?”

            “You call her by her last name?”

            “I call everyone by their last name.” He rolled his eyes. The boy glanced at the cats and softened marginally. “My name is Damian; I’ll help you find everything you will need while Dr. Kelly runs some tests. Follow me.”

            Being given no choice but to follow, Danny allowed the serious boy to lead him past the check-in desk and towards what appeared to be a store. “All of the items here are provided by… a donor. They are free to those who need them. You will need a litter box, litter, a scoop, food and water bowls, food, a brush, a scratching post, and toys. You will also be provided the necessary tools to take care of the sick kitten.”

            Damian was very informative, and Danny couldn’t help the small smile. “Okay, sounds good. I walked here though, should I get everything now and run it home before coming back for the cats, or take the cats home and leave them while I come back for the supplies?”

            He thought for a moment before deciding. “I would take it all home now so that the space is ready for the cats once you bring them home.” Damian began handing Danny everything he’d need. Most of it fit into the litter box and he didn’t think it would be much of a problem to carry it all home until Danny pulled the container of litter and bag of cat food down.

            “Might take me a couple of trips.” Danny muttered to himself, calculating exactly how difficult it would be to carry some of this with the cats but ultimately deciding against it. He could do it if he weren’t worried about looking slightly suspicious. But nobody would be able to carry all of this without struggling- not without powers.

            Damian looked between Danny and the supplies before sighing. “If you require assistance I suppose I could carry the food and litter.” Shaking his head, Danny made to argue, but Damian had other ideas. The boy hoisted the bags over his shoulder without much effort and raised an eyebrow. “Lead the way.”

            That was how Danny found himself letting a teenager into his apartment  and showing him the best ways to set everything up. “Cats prefer their water to be separate from their food. I grabbed a fountain for you because they also prefer the water to be moving. You can use a regular bowl until the kittens are grown up. They also prefer if their litterbox is in an area with low foot traffic.”

            Listening to Damian talk about the cats was quite informative and he could feel the kid relaxing as Danny did what he suggested every step of the way without question. Once the apartment was set up they began their short trek back to the clinic.

            “I really appreciate all of your help, Damian.” Danny started. “I’ve never had a pet before, but I’ll do lots of research about everything you suggested.” He didn’t know how he’d find the time, but he meant every word.

            The boy gave a firm nod. “Research is important. The vet will tell you what you need to know, and there are plenty of resources at the clinic.” He paused. “I suppose, if you have any questions and cannot get to the clinic… you may call me.” He held his hand out expectantly; Danny scrambled to pass his phone to the kid feeling like this opportunity would be taken away just as quickly if he hesitated.

            A moment later he was waiting for the vet in the exam room with Damian’s number in his phone and a lot of information in his head. He could do this. He’d taken care of Cujo, right? It would be fine!

            (He ignored the nagging reminder that Cujo was already dead so there wasn’t much Danny could do to mess it up).

~~~

            “Heya kid.” A familiar voice rose from the doorway.

            Looking up from his work, Danny found the familiar figure of one Victor Bianchi looming in his doorway with a friendly grin on his face and a friendly kid on his hip. “Mr. Bianchi, you should be resting.” He gave a pointed look.

            The man waved his hand dismissively. “I’ve been restin’ for days! Had to get outta the house. The wife’s fussin’ too much.” He shifted the little girl in his arms. “This ‘ere’s Allegra.”

            Danny moved away from his desk and towards the little girl. “Hello there Allegra, my name’s Danny. How are you doing today?”

            She stared at his outstretched hand, headed tilted to the side contemplatively. “You have an owie.” She pointed at the scarring on his hand curiously. Mr. Bianchi pulled her hand away and gave him an apologetic look.

            “She’s real curious.”

            He’d been fully prepared for people to point out his scars for the rest of his life, a kid’s genuine curiosity wasn’t going to upset him. “No worries Mr. Bianchi. They’re old owies, Allegra, they don’t hurt anymore.” Except when he remembers the feeling of his fingers being severed from his body, forced to grow back until they’d do it again and he could still remember the pain “What can I do for both of you today?”

            “Trains!” Allegra shouted, wiggling out of her father’s grip and rushing into the playroom which was still vacant for the time being.

            “Well I guess that settles it. The wife’s worried I won’t recover as quickly if I gotta look after ‘er all day so… I guess I’d like to drop her off?” He sounded like he wasn’t sure how any of it worked.

            With a small smile, Danny gestured to his desk. “I’ve got a bit of paperwork for you to fill out and then we’ll be set.” Rifling through the mountains of paper on one of his many desks (seriously why did he have so many? He had one in the Infinite Realms, one at the front of the daycare, one in a private office at the daycare, and one in his apartment- who needed that many desks? Kings, apparently) “Have you given any more thought to what I suggested?”

            Mr. Bianchi shifted his weight a couple of times. “I, uh- yeah, I don’t know what kinda work you’d need a guy like me for though?”

            “Have you ever built a fence, Mr. Bianchi?”

            Mr. Bianchi had in fact, built a fence before. He’d mentioned something about creepy ass neighbors with cameras pointed into his yard before telling Danny to show him where he wanted the fence. Ember watched Allegra while the two went to the back and figured out what would work.

            “Is my daddy gonna work for you now, mister?” Allegra asked as he settled down beside her to play with the trains together.

            He thought for a minute before nodding. “Yes, I think so. I’d like him too. He seems like a good worker.”

            She nodded vigorously. “He is! He’s the goodest worker! He doesn’t complain or nothing’! Even when he’s hurt he don’t say nothing bad about his boss!”

            Danny figured, when you have to work any job you can get to support your family, you probably learn to ignore your complaints and just… push through it. Aside from the Red Hood, it didn’t seem any of the other crime lords took care of their people- another reason to thank the vigilante. True, Danny wasn’t a real Gothamite, but every day he felt a deeper connection to the city and her people. He’d become protective of them, especially those in the Bowery and Crime Alley.

            He’d protect them all, in any way he could.

            “You want the red train or the blue train?”

~~~

            Four nights later Danny got a call that reminded him- he couldn’t even protect himself, how was he supposed to protect everyone else?

Prev. Next

[celestiallime]

sometimes I'll be reading an amazing fanfic from a certain fandom and I realize that this isn't what actually happened in the show and I go through the five stages of grief with the assistants of crying, throwing up and laying on the sad cold floor

[rosie321go]

Another snippet because my brain refuses to shut up and keeps telling me people need to read this (I feed into my own delusions regularly, please ignore me)

“Bruce heard the voice again a week later.

He was in his study, eyes bloodshot from the time he spent holding them open. Just one more sentence, he’d tell himself until the words began to bleed together. Night had fallen hours ago, and now the sunrise wasn’t too far away—Alfred would frown when he noticed, but it had been a long patrol, and the night still wasn’t over.

He was finally closing his laptop when he heard it.

It was near indecipherable, a mangled mess of vague human words. A groan, perhaps. Then it—Jay—spoke again.

“Bruce.”

And this time, it was unmistakable.”

[antilavender]

[redhoodscorvid]

My partner got to see the frantic creation of the "Does Jason Todd sleep with a gun" poll in real time. But the real question? The real question is how literal we're going to get about Jason's gun being a teddy bear.

Jason woke to silence.

Sun poured through the cheap blinds. Hot air bled the smell of cigarettes and sweat. Sheets stuck to his front, the shitty fabric rough and saturated, as his right hand tapped against something soft. Full on dog days of summer: you didn't have to be nightlife for sunlight to be unbearable at this point.

At mid-morning, the neighbour couple two doors over should be yelling about what chores are humanly possible to do before shift. The godawful buzzer for the corner store directly below the unit should ring with a delivery. One floor up, frantic shuffling and cupboard slamming will echo as the guy who's holding on to a courier job by the skin of his teeth looks for his keys. He'll usually run down the hallway three to seven minutes late.

It felt like the building was holding its breath.

Half-decent, Jason thought.

Jason's forearms tensed for leverage. He swung his right leg over his body, springing up. His heel hit Thug 1 in the nose. 

The blood is extraneous. Ignore the bullet hitting the wall behind you. 

He let the momentum of the arc touch his feet to the ground, and followed up the tap with a solid left hook to the temple. The guy dropped like his strings were cut, and Jason uncoiled with his right hand pointing unerringly at the doorway.

Jason blinked slowly, hoping his face only gave away how unimpressed he was at the situation. He was pointing a teddy bear at Thug 2. 

Control the situation.

"You know, I actually like this shaggy dog toy a bit," he said, letting dead casual fall from his lips. "It'd be a shame if something happened to it."

Skinny Thug 2 was eleven feet away, with the small hurdle of the poor excuse for a mattress between them. The man had let his gun droop a bit, his straw blond hair falling into his face as he gaped. 

Jason smiled. It wasn't a sunny smile; it was the kind that exhaled concrete dust and industrial fumes in the heat of summer.

"A .44 Magnum," he said, letting the words fall, carefully timed, into the quiet room, "Is usually overkill. Your little 9mm is a better choice for this kind of situation. But you know..."

A pause as Thug 2's eyes widened. He managed to get the gun mostly pointed up at Jason.

Jason stepped forward, not letting the shaggy teddy bear drop an inch. "...the Magnum will make a big chunk of your head explode. Brain matter everywhere. Kind of on my bucket list.

"It's a shame, though. Would pretty much annihilate this little fucker."

Jason pointed the teddy bear lower.

"I'd probably have to shoot you a few times to make up for it."

Thug 2 raised his hands, letting the gun clatter to the floor. 

Jason actually did wince at that point. Idiot could have killed Mr. Chronically-Seven-Minutes-Late if the gun misfired. So Jason didn't feel too bad about smashing the guy's forehead into his knee.

He left the completely normal teddy bear tucked under Thug 2's elbow.

[locally-sourced-ghost]

I have a horrible headache, so I wrote a one-shot of Dick giving Jason comfort while I also give Jason a headache

I'll be there with quiet comfort

[ao3statistics]

"Proof of Jason Todd's suffering in fanfictions" coming up soon!

[ghost-bxrd]

While we’re on the topic of songs…

Title and chapter names for an upcoming fic 👁️ can you guess which one from the roster it’s going to be? Or maybe it’s a brand new one? Any theories? Hehehe ✨

(Song is Vanished by Crystal Castles)

[luvrodite]

TAKE FLIGHT JASON TODD (college!au)

↳ headcanons about jason in the au that is currently taking up all my brain space. so incredibly self indulgent. extreme liberties taken with his characterisation i'm sorry this is fanfiction!!!!!

first and most importantly - nothing (too) bad happens in this au. i imagine him getting adopted by bruce, but he gets to live and be happy and he is so so loved and that doesn't change

if he's got issues with his dad it's normal human issues like not seeing eye to eye on things but at the end of the day he is cherished and bruce supports him in everything

so he goes to university. in this au i imagine him to be studying literature (of course, duh) but also something else. i feel like he'd be interested in philosophy, but in my mind it's definitely something in the humanities faculty.

moves out but doesn't do the dorm thing because he wants his own space, and i think bruce just takes care of everything and he doesn't have to worry about rent or groceries or anything of that sort

i think he'd still get a job though...like maybe in a secondhand bookstore or music store that nobody really goes to so it's quiet and he can work on his assignments and read most of the time

makes friends with the regular people that breeze in and out - likes to people watch because he gets so many interesting looking people that come through

i think he'd have to have a little old lady neighbour that doesn't trust him at first because look at him he's so tall and big and he's got his fair share of scars on his hands from high school

but he's an angel...probably helps her take in her groceries quietly and leaves it at that because that's simply the thing to do

like i don't imagine he'd be extremely chatty, but he's polite and says hello to everyone or nods at them in the elevator

she warms up to him and they have conversations in the morning when she’s going down for her daily morning walk and he’s got classes to head to 

imagining him with still slightly messy curls in the morning as he walks onto campus

he's so.. boy. in this au. does that make sense??? just. happy and stress free, and he loves his courses and he calls home every few days and his younger brothers are ever suffering because he talks so much about the stuff he’s learning 

sobs he’s such a nerd i love him but they’re just wondering how this is the guy that gets side-eyed everywhere he goes 

but he’s not mild mannered…he just minds his business

like i said, has gotten into his fair share of fights at school and similarly isn’t afraid to tell someone when they’re being a dick 

the girls in his class love him because he actually likes to have discussions with them instead of talking over them and is happy to speak for the group or let them do it if they want when they get called on for class discussions

he’s just that guy who at first glance seems a little intimidating because a) he’s gorgeous and b) is huge but you get put into a group with him and he’s so intelligent and polite, listens to what everyone has to say and has wicked smart opinions of his own to share

has a bike. in every iteration of jason he must have a motorbike i just cannot imagine him without a bike. nearly gives bruce a heart attack in this au because he immediately runs through the worst case scenarios and it takes AGES before he accepts it even if he does think the bike looks cool and it takes even longer before he lets jason take him for a spin on the back of it

bruce in this au is just. doting and a little anxious about things. and that's okay. he's coming to terms with his kids growing up, and the changes that come with that. at least he's still got his girls, who will never not come around to bother him. but dick has already left the nest, and jason is on his way. he just misses when they were little

he likes to say jason was so small he could hold him in the palm of his hands (a big lie, as he was small but not that small, but jason secretly likes the affection)

he scribbles in all his class assigned novels, notes filling up the margins and the blank pages at the end - annotations on annotations

has gone down a rabbit hole of literature papers analysing different texts at 3 am. several times

paperbacks on his bedside table, bookmarked with receipts and scraps of paper, literally anything that can be used - he'll use it

notebooks for each class that are equally as full, coordinating notes on books and poems and papers

sigh english student jason todd my beloved angel 

this isn't meant to be taken seriously at all, but we're here to have a good time. sigh i wanna make a moodboard so u guys can see the vision i have of him

[definitelynotindecisive]

Yes, I'm doing the Jason Todd thing. Her life hangs in the balance, based on a fandom poll.

The link to the fanfiction is here, You With the Watercolour Eyes

PROPAGANDA BELOW

In favour of YES:

Just think how fucking devastating it would be. Peter and Parker have lost so much that have made up their lives. They've lost almost all their loved ones, their friends and family, their way of life. And wouldn't killing Harley Quinn, who has fast become a parental/aunt figure just make that angst all the sweeter? And the fall out of it, not just in Peter's life, but Poison Ivy's, the Riddler's, all of the Batfam's, particularly Bruce Wayne's. So much angst to feed from, so much emotion and turmoil. Tasty, tasty anguish.

In favour of NO:

Peter and Parker have lost so much, it would be a sign that maybe, just maybe, this new universe could bring some hope. Something for Peter to hold onto. It would make his journey back to his father, Dick, a bit smoother, and a bit kinder. And doesn't Peter deserve to be treated gently for once in his life? Doesn't he deserve a happier ending where it doesn't come at the cost of blood and tears?

In favour of a different character that we love being killed in Harley's place - suggestions:

Aunt Pam

Mr Jones

Uncle Eddie

Uncle John

Bruce Wayne

Daphne Pennyworth

Alfred Pennyworth

Jason Todd

Dick Grayson

Barbara Gordon

[avis-writeshq]

Welcome to Golden: a milestone event!

Welcome to Golden: a milestone event!

I am honoured to announce that we have reached 2.1k on this blog! To properly commemorate this momentous occasion, you are invited to join Golden: a milestone event where guests from across the world will be invited. As such, please enjoy our festivities filled with music, writing, and requests for your enjoyment!

Thank you to everyone who has supported me during this time! I truly appreciate every single one of you 💜

THIS EVENT HAS ENDED ! THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT ! 💙

▹ track one: i once believed love would be

requests are open! these fics will be at least 500 words for each request and will also be set in the canon universe. please see below in regards to the requesting guidelines.

guidelines:

in order for me to complete a request, it needs to have a character and a story/plot line. the characters i am currently taking requests for can be found at the end of this post. 

i currently write only for fem!reader because that is what i have experience in and because i haven’t figured out the mechanics for gn!reader or male!reader.

i do not write smut (suggestive is ok!), gore, or cheating (done by/on reader), loss of child, incest, poly relationships or age regression. i have the right to delete or deny any requests that come through my inbox. 

do not send me a request that you have already sent to another author. it’s icky, it’s iffy, and it ends up with at least one person getting hurt. it’s just a generally not great thing to do and i recommend not doing it at all. i understand that it might take longer than desired for your request to come out, but that doesn’t change the fact that the people who are writing these fics are exactly that: people.

please be patient! i am currently working three jobs and each of them carry their own demands. i will most definitely get to your request, but these things do take time. 

▹ track two: black and white 

ask games!  these games include: fmk, general asks (ask me any question and i will answer!), etc.

find a list of ask games below:

emoji ask game ‼️ colour ask game (open to everyone) ‼️ character ask game ‼️ WIP ask game ‼️

▹ track three: but it’s golden

alternate universe! send me a character in a situation that isn’t the norm (eg. single dad!spencer reid, rockstar!remus lupin) and i’ll write a drabble about it.

same rules & guidelines as track one.

i do not write hybrid!au, stoner!au or priest/religious!au. 

▹ track four: like daylight

bonus track : remix! send me an ask about a fic that i’ve already written (eg. sparks fly!reader, train rides!reader) and send a request based on those characters. this could mean asking directly for a spin-off or a short ‘part two’ to any of my existing standalone fics. please provide the character and the title of the fic that you would like me to remix <3

for example: how would sparks fly!reader react to post prison!reid?

same rules & guidelines as track one.

▹ outro: singers & songwriters

here is a list of the characters i am willing to write for during this event!

criminal minds:

spencer reid, aaron hotchner

haikyuu:

tsukishima kei, kenma kozume, oikawa tooru, iwaizumi hajime, akaashi keiji, bokuto koutaro, miya atsumu, miya osamu, kita shinsuke, suna rintaro, sakusa kiyoomi

boku no hero academia:

bakugou katsuki, midoriya izuku, todoroki shoto, tamaki amajiki

dc superheroes:

damian wayne, richard ‘dick’ grayson, jason todd, tim drake

harry potter:

remus lupin, sirius black, james potter, albus severus potter, scorpius malfoy, ominis gaunt, sebastian sallow, garreth weasley, fred weasley, george weasley

‼️ i no longer write fanfiction about real people. (aka, no rpf. sorry!) ‼️

here are some examples as to what your request should look like!

▹ hi! could i request track one with spencer reid where he gets drunk and reader takes care of him please? thank you!

▹ hello! could i request track four with detention!damian wayne please? where reader suffers from nightmares following the attack? thank you!

thank you once again to everyone who has supported me throughout this journey!! i can't wait to write your requests <3

tagging some mutuals 💙

@violetrainbow412-blog @shotosjupiter @astrophileous @dream-a-little-bigger-x @aperrywilliams @fuckinglevi @kitashousewife @229zmi @atrirose @haisuken @enluv @kentoangel @shiishki @ceo-of-daichi @cotton-charms @kageyuji