#jason: hold on wait-
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Jason and Roy arguing after meeting up on a mission by chance and having to work together:
Roy: You're insufferable
Jason: You wanna kiss me so bad it's making you look stupid
Roy: Yes I do!
Jason, who flirts with anyone as banter while he does morally grey crimes but is actually really insecure about emotional and physical closeness: what
Roy, who thinks Jason looks very attractive while committing said morally grey crimes: what
#jason: no one can actually like me because I'm a Bad Guy#roy: too bad I'm into that shit!#jason: hold on wait-#ollie taught roy that laws are just the will of the powerful and should be bent and roy took that into heart#especially the bending part lmao#dc#dcu#jayroy#jason todd#red hood
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Robins Halloween! :D
Bonus:
Bonus Bonus:
Bonus Bonus Bonus:
#drew these a few days ago and waited to post them until now#trying to hold back from fixing anatomy etc and just letting a doodle be a doodle#dc comics#my art#no I will not explain the candy apple#because I just don’t have an explinatiom#batman#superman#bruce wayne#clark kent#stephanie brown#batgirl#robin#dick grayson#damian wayne#jason todd#tim drake#jarro#maps mizoguchi#mia mizoguchi#duke thomas#superbat
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Matthew Aldrich (“Coco,” “Lightyear”) is writing the film, which will be produced by Matt Reeves’ production company 6th & Idaho — but the story will be separate from Reeves’ ongoing Gotham-verse with “The Batman” and “The Penguin.” Instead, it will depict how the friendship between Grayson and Todd as youths becomes tested by their diverging ideas for what their future should be. (Reports that the characters will begin as a pair of thieves in the film were false.) In the DC comics, after their respective stints as Batman’s sidekick, Robin, Dick becomes the superhero Nightwing, while Jason transforms into the violent vigilante Red Hood.
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Prompt:
Jason learns how to dream walk and terrorizes his family before they become aware of his resurrection.
(it backfires)
#Jason hellbent on making Bruce suffer:#let‘s see how much I can twist your dreams-#Bruce: depressing dreams about weeping over his son‘s dead body#sitting at his grave#fantasizing about killing the joker#of a young Jason screaming at him#jason: wait#hold on#go back#ok ok FINE my dad is suffering enough let’s go for Dickwing-#Dick: similar dreams to Bruce#jason accusing him of not being there for him#telling him to come join him#jason: wait I would NOT ask that of you h my GOD#ok fine let’s see the Replacement-#Tim: abandonment issues and trauma#jason: … goddammit#I need to go back don’t I#prompts#jason todd#batfamily#batfam#dick grayson#bruce wayne#tim drake#fic#red hood#robin#batdad#jason comes home
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Alfred takes his first vacation 9 months after Jason comes to stay at the manor. He’s in England for two weeks visiting friends and traveling through his old homeland.
Jason and Bruce are home alone with each other and Jason has really only started to get comfortable. It’s a long two weeks, but they make it through.
When he comes back, he gives Jason a small souvenir he brought back with him and Jason asks him a million and one questions about how it went and who he saw. Alfred laughs and says that for Jason’s spring break the two of them should take a trip there together. They could go see some plays or the royal ballet or even visit some of the castles. Jason is a little stunned at the idea but is very excited. He asks if Alfred ever took Bruce or Dick.
Alfred says that neither of them had a particular interest in some of the things he did, but that they took other trips together. Jason ask if he’ll get to meet some of Alfred’s friends from the service or if he can see where Alfred went to school or any one of a hundred other questions.
Jason’s nervous when it’s finally time to go to England but Alfred tells him Bruce offered to drop them off in the batplane so they wouldn’t have to take public transit. It’s also so Bruce can say goodbye at the absolute last minute. Because it’s only a week, but Jason’s only been with him about a year and been formally adopted less than half that time.
So Alfred shows him as much as he can. They go to the theater and Alfred takes Jason to his favorite play. They go to the ballet together, visit some castles, it’s peaceful in a way Gotham isn’t. And for how used to the city Jason is, Alfred brings him down to a steadier pace.
They have a lot of fun and Jason only ignores directions once on account of not being able to hear him too well when they’re taking the tube in London, which is easily forgiven.
Jason asks Alfred about other holidays he took in Europe, or the other countries he’s traveled to. It’s when Jason himself really begins to open up about his life on the streets or living with Willis or Catherine. Alfred is sharing so many stories with him that Jason slowly starts to reciprocate.
Alfred introduces Jason to two of his old friends, one who owns a pub and tries to let Jason have a sip of beer and the other whose wife runs a shop that Jason picks out souvenirs for Bruce and Dick from.
When it’s time for Bruce to come pick them up, Jason asks if they’ll come back. Not on all of Alfred’s vacations, but on shorter ones together. Alfred says he would be delighted to do so.
#jason todd#bruce wayne#dick grayson#alfred pennyworth#sub plot that one of alfred’s friends is down on their luck and tries to random jason to bruce for money and alfred has the man at gunpoint#while he’s holding a knife to jason and monologuing about how well alfred had it after the service and alfred tells him if he’d just asked#for the money he’d have given it to him there was no need to bring a child into this and then alfred signals something jason ducks and#alfred shoots the man telling jason “we don’t have to tell master bruce everything that went on in this trip ey lad?’’#and jason realizes alfred would do anything to protect him#also bruce and dick getting gag gifts and keeping them forever even if they’re ugly except they were cop outs because jason kept#the real souvenirs he meant to give them but was too nervous they wouldn’t like so he holds onto them waiting for a birthday of xmas#but does before he can give bruce and dick their real souvenirs and it’s not until after red hood starts working with the bats again#he sees they kept the gag gifts all these years and works up the courage to give them the real ones#*randsom jason for money jfc these tags are long#*dies before he gives the gifts
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Yes. Promise.
Part 3 of the Stand By, Hold Back, Be Patient series
Part 2, Part 4
Rating: SFW
Word Count: 4.4k
Warnings: Descriptions of blood, fear, mentions of past animal abuse/neglect, heavy handed dream imagery
(Take all ASL represented with a grain of salt, I'm the furthest thing from an expert)
He reacts as you'd expect, which is to say he doesn't. Just stands there between two trunks and stares. Like yesterday, when you left him in your rearview mirror, you see the details of him so clearly. At this distance, you wish you couldn't. He's dressed the same as before, the clothes rumpled from use and too few washings, and the mask is ever-present, but you can see the stains too easily. Old, dried blood on his gloves, and matching splashes of it on his sleeves, in spots around his stomach. What you can see of his pant legs tells the same story—these clothes have seen a lot of killing. There's also dirt and stains you don't dare give a name to, but the fact that he doesn't wash his murder outfit is less upsetting than the fact that he has one.
You'd closed your eyes when you washed your hands last night, scrubbing at whatever encrusted filth was left behind from the machete's grip until your skin was raw. That same grip catches your eye from its place on his belt, dark and obviously rusty brown even from this distance. So it was blood. You know that now. It doesn't help abate the overall sense of unease.
But you're not dead twice over now, hopefully three by the time you get to make good on your plan to scurry inside. And, though you're still paralyzed with fear, with that dread of anything can happen right now, your researcher brain is tired of having questions with no answers. Why are you not dead.
You're summoning the courage to just say it when Jason slowly lifts his arm, bends it at the elbow, and snaps his fingers at you. The actual snap is deadened by his glove, but the motion is unmistakably…a fucking snap. You just stare at him—is he trying to, what, set you on fire with his mind? Trying to beckon you to him? Because one is slightly more plausible than you would have thought a month ago, and the other is never going to happen. You stay exactly where you are and watch as he purposefully drops his arm, then lifts, levers the elbow, and snaps all over again.
Something in your brain stirs at the movement, forcing a connection between what's on the other side of the door and the man in front of you.
"Dog?" you ask, quiet even to your own ears.
He nods with that same deliberate slowness.
"Oh my god," you whisper and press the entirety of your back against the door, more for support than outright fear. That's ASL, that's language. From him. And obviously he understands speech, else he would have just killed you and Heracles on the porch that night, but you assumed the lack of communication was just…part of the silent, scary murderer shtick. If there's one sign, then there can be others, and while your sign isn't great—and out of date besides, you have no idea how much of the language is still kicking around in your brain from the singular class you took in high school—maybe there's something you can do with this. The chance is worth it when you lift your hands and haltingly sign while you say, "Yes or no, you're Jason Voorhees."
The mask tilts to the side and god he really is too close, just a dozen or so feet away, then he lifts his hand and signs yes.
Okay. Well. You'd already been pretty sure you were dealing with a Jason, but the confirmation doesn't hurt. And you've learned something, he either had yes and no in his sign arsenal already, or he's understanding the connection between what you're saying and what you're doing with your hands. Good information, solid information, and now…now you can have a conversation. "You're the one, um. Killing people? Around here?" Another yes, so drawn out that it borders on parody. You know how fast he can be, you've experienced that firsthand, so you don't understand this reticence today. Is this just how he acts when he's not immediately focused on murdering? "Are you the only one? Doing the—the killings, since the 80s?"
The question confuses him—you watch his shoulders heave around a breath. But he does, after thirty seconds that stretch for an eternity to you, eventually sign yes.
That means that the man in front of you is either well into his seventies, and you've certainly never known a retirement age man to feel that solid, or the ghost/undead/phantasm theory has more credit than you thought. If he's even telling the truth. It's not like he has any reason not to lie to you.
You're not breathing correctly and you realize your fingers are completely numb. If you didn't have the door to hold you up, you know you'd be a trembling pile by now. This is—it defies thorough explanation, because you're curious, and mystified, and a little grateful to have your questions answered in any capacity, but mostly you're just scared. This is real, this hell week has been real, and it's not going away. Your foot crinkles the plastic of one of the bags as it tries to hold your failing balance and you remember. A glance to the right, loath as you are to take your eyes off him for even a second, and you see your truck, left unlocked and open in your flight last night, now closed. Seemingly untouched otherwise, which is…
You crouch for a second, eyes forward once again, and scoop the bags off the gravel of your walkway. They feel just as heavy as they did last night. "This was you?" You indicate the bags and remember your wild swing with them too late. As ineffectual as that hit had been, what if he sees this as you arming yourself? He hasn't touched any of his weapons—not that he'd need them if he wanted to harm you, you have the bruises to prove that—and maybe that's the point of the slowness. To lull you into a false sense of security before he uses all that speed and mass to crush you? But then it comes back to you being laughably easy to kill, he doesn't need tricks. If you're certain of anything, it's that if he wanted you dead right now, you would be.
Immune to the panic in your mind, Jason just signs yes. You don't know who else would have done it—some helpful stranger in the night, which is improbable, but not as much as it was before this week started—but again, it's good to have confirmation. It's hard to bite down on your instinctive why, to demand an explanation. You remind yourself to stick to yes or no questions, this needs to be as simple as possible to be effective. You've been signing every question you ask verbally, going so far as to fingerspell Jason's name, but he doesn't appear to have picked up anything else.
"Thank you," you tell him, and saying it is so normal that you almost apologize for hitting him next. The trees past your walkway, technically still a "yard", look different in the golden daylight, but that machete gouge is still there in a nearby trunk. Then, the question you most immediately need an answer to: "Are you going to kill me?"
The risk is somewhat calculated. You're the one with the ability to put a door between you and this man-ghost-creature, and whatever else he's capable of, there's no way he's getting through the solid oak, so if he reacts badly to the question…you have a decent chance of getting away.
Yes, Jason signs, then no. Unhurried in every motion. He hasn't moved an inch this whole time.
Your mouth is suddenly very dry. "Maybe? Or…you don't know."
Yes. Then, blindingly fast after the sedate pace he's set, he signs again: Dog. He's clearly running out of patience with your questions, the sound of his breathing filling the space between the two of you. Considering his answer to the last one, his patience is something you don't want to run out of, so you have to acquiesce.
"Heracles." This is fingerspelled too—creating a sign name on the fly after years of absence from the language is not a task you're up to. "My dog, Heracles. Yes?" Jason nods for this one and, horribly, steps forward.
It's a single step, but your heart leaps to your throat and sticks there. Your flinch back knocks the bags against the door and you hear Heracles, who up to this point has been perfectly patient, bark on the other side of it.
"Wait," you instruct, and goddamn if it doesn't work a second time. You're more forceful with this one, less of a screech and more of an order, which feels like it could have broken very badly for you. Every decision you've made thus far feels like it's on a knife's edge—you've just been incredibly lucky to this point, but now you think you know what he's after. That makes a difference.
Jason obeys. He doesn't move at all, you don't even think he's breathing. You can use that. With your hand pressed to the doorknob, you say, "You can see him, I'll let him come out. But only if you promise me that you won't hurt him." And you make the sign for promise, finger to the lips, then down flat on your fist. Jason watches the movement closely, you catch his mask dip down a touch to better view your hands—which in turn makes you realize that he's been staring mostly at your face—before he slowly mimics it. Yes. Promise.
What's the promise of a murderer mean to you? What should it mean? Probably less than it actually does to you. Because he spared Heracles' life in that first encounter, then saved him from the forest—regardless of your intention—to bring back to you. And Heracles, brave, terrified Heracles, had been more or less fine with him at the end there.
So you open the door and take your eyes off Jason for a second time to beckon your boy outside. His too-small eyes in his over-large head are so full of trust when he looks up at you, tail wagging at both the sound of your voice and your nervous smile down to him. "Come on, baby, come outside. Good boy, good—oh!"
Heracles unceremoniously shoves past your legs and bounds over to Jason without a care in the world. His tail is high and wagging, ears pricked up, and some honest to god pep in his step. You're left to just stand there and watch while Jason folds himself down to one knee on the forest floor and runs an affectionate, filthy glove over Heracles' back.
It is, frankly, the strangest, most confusing, and nicest thing you've ever seen. Heracles has always been perfectly affectionate with you from the get go—you'd had his head in your lap within a minute of visiting him at the shelter, his bandaged tail steadily thumping. It had been a shock when this sweet dog lifted that heavy head to growl savagely at a male shelter worker who happened to pass by, even with the warning you'd had about his history. You knew he could like men, he'd stopped growling at one of your roommate's partners just before the two of you left the city for good, but you'd never seen him like this. Wriggling happily while this stranger who, you cannot stress this enough, has been seconds from killing you twice now thunks his sides with massive pats.
It feels stupid to think it, because Heracles is a dog and not a rational judge of character, but Jason can't be completely, senselessly evil if Heracles likes him this much.
"I've never seen him like this with a stranger before," you say. You've moved closer without realizing, now about half a foot away from your open door. Jason's mask tilts up when you speak and watches your hands. "Sorry, I'm trying to understand, but—he was terrified of you last night. What happened in the woods when you went after him?"
Jason doesn't answer you with sign, which gives you a better idea of how much he actually knows. Instead, with that same deliberateness he doesn't seem to need to use with Heracles, he takes the cuff of his leftmost glove and pulls it down to expose a pale wrist. He presents the wrist to Heracles, who sniffs with such abandon that it makes you laugh a little. The mask snaps back up and it takes all the nerve you have left not to jump.
"Well," you start, a little unsteadily, "the method clearly works."
You watch the two of them for a few minutes and, against your will, you start to feel…secure. Jason's downright playful with Heracles, constantly patting him and letting himself be subjected to a happy dog's lack of personal space. Even when Heracles plants his paws in the middle of Jason's chest and jams his nose against the mask, which makes you nervous, because the first rule of someone having a mask is to not touch the mask, all Jason does is hold very still for inspection. All's clear, apparently, because the final sniff is punctuated with a huge, goofy dog smile that makes your overtaxed heart thump in a nice way for once.
Eventually Heracles gets bored of Jason's scent and comes back to you. You drop to your knees for him, don't even think about it, because his presence is perpetually comforting and you could really use some comfort right now. There's definitely a smell to him now, the faintest stench of old blood and fresh air on his fur that isn't as terrible as it should be. You try not to think about it as you scratch your nails over that spot he likes and give him a peck between the eyes.
Heracles doesn't react to Jason moving with near-silent steps to follow, eyeing you the entire time like you're the dangerous one here, so you don't either. With Jason crouched behind Heracles, and you sitting on your knees before him, you're both in a kind of neutral territory. You're not about to tell Jason to leave, and he can't kill you—you hope—with your dog right here. "He is such a little mama's boy," you say by way of explanation. "But you can keep petting him, if you want."
It's heaven for a dog. Two people, four hands, and nearly uninterrupted attention. After barely a minute of silent, dutiful petting between the two of you, Heracles flops down onto his side and just basks.
"Greedy little thing, isn't he?" All affection in the way you say it, punctuated by his tongue lolling out into your lap while you rub his ear. "He deserves it, though. He's had a hard life." You catch the mask glancing your way in your upper peripheral and you rush to explain. "I don't know all the details, only what the people at the shelter back in the city could tell me, but he was…really badly abused before they picked him up. His last owner, or whoever, clearly neglected him…you might have seen it, he's missing some teeth. And his tail's a little crooked from where they snapped it. Right—yeah, right there." Jason's glove hovers above Heracles' tail and stops midway, where there will forever be a bump. It's strangely satisfying to see that giant hand curl into a fist when you confirm the spot. That's how you feel about it too. "He's nervous around strangers now—" no need to upset him by singling out men in particular, just in case "—which is partly why I brought him out here with me. No neighbors, present company excluded."
Before you can worry about that being taken the wrong wrong way, you look up and realize that Jason's already staring at you. He's hunched over to pet Heracles and even from this vantage he's just big. Big hands, big shoulders, big presence. This close, and with the unclouded sun up high, you're treated to a few snap observations. He's obviously bald where the mask can't hide and every inch of visible skin is suntanned, but not in the way you've known people who work outside to tan—there's a dullness to his skin that makes you think of death, some primal human pattern recognition in your subconscious noticing the wrongness of him. Nothing with skin like that should be moving, you're sure. More than that, there's something different about the actual shape of his skull itself that the mask's straps exacerbate, but that isn't what makes your breath catch in your throat.
You can see directly through the eyeholes of the mask and are struck by an alert, richly brown eye and its sagging, paler sibling. All the usual micromovements of the brown eye are not mirrored by the other and your brain supplies several unbidden theories—birth defect, blinded by a victim, price of living this long.
You know you've stared back at him for too long when his breathing starts to grow louder, the sound of it rattling out from behind the mask, and you barely have a moment to remember to be scared when he signs you.
Heracles makes a displeased whine at the lack of attention and flips all the way onto his back, hind legs kicking until Jason finally puts a giant palm on the offered belly and starts to rub. The sound of Heracles' tail thumping against his leg pulls you back to yourself. "Me?" He nods, doesn't look away. "What about me?"
Dog, yes, he signs. Then, a more forcefully pointed finger: You.
If you survive this day, you vow to teach him question words. Guessing, or just the stress of the last twenty minutes, is giving you a headache. Forcing connections again, you try, "You…want to know why I'm here? Living here?" Another nod, and he could at least look a little gratified that you're catching on to his thinking like this. You have to look away, back down to Heracles and his blissed out face in your lap, to answer. "Same reason, I guess. I'm not as good with people as I used to be, and it's…quiet here. The quiet's nice."
It's the right thing to say, you know as soon as Jason starts to nod, unprompted by a question for the first time. And oh if that doesn't give you an idea, and the idea is emboldened to action by the way Jason has been putting up with Heracles' tail surely thumping a bruise against his leg. "I want to ask you something," you start, sure of yourself for the first time all day. "You don't have to say yes or no right away, definitely take time to think on it, especially if you plan on, uh, letting me live through the night. But I have an opportunity that I don't think many people get when they come to this area. That is, I want to ask if you'll allow us to live here. Heracles and I." The lack of immediate reaction gives you a chance to push your case as far as it can be pushed. "All he wants is room to roam, and all I want is to be away from the world, which I think…is what you want too. You'd probably prefer not to have neighbors, but we'd be good ones. Promise. And," the clincher, the real point of it all, "Heracles really likes you. And I think you like him."
Your sweet, boxy dog chooses that moment to snore, alerting you both to the fact that you've pet him into complete contentment. This means you have a close, personal view of Jason's eye widening when he returns his attention to Heracles, his hand beyond gentle on the sleeping dog's belly.
Then Jason stands in one smooth movement and uses every inch of his height to loom over you. Fast, faster than you expected, catching you off guard despite having already been looking at him. His breaths fall heavy, heavier than they've been all day, and when he touches the handle of his machete you think, Oh, he's still going to kill me. How quickly you allowed yourself to feel safe with Heracles here, how quick you were to conflate Heracles' protection with your own.
He points like he's stabbing the air. First at you, then at Heracles, then at the house at your back. He nods. Lifts the machete an inch out of its sheath, enough for the steel to gleam, and points at you again. Signs no. Then, deliberately staring you down, signs yes-no. Maybe. The implication is clear—stay here, keep your promise, and he won't kill you. Whether that's a probationary decision or the way you just have to live your life now is unclear, but it's a hell of a lot more than you were expecting out of this day. As far as dealings with landlords go, you've had worse.
Then he's gone. Just turns on his heel and stalks back into the woods without a second glance. You're left with your mouth hanging open, completely struck.
You do, eventually, keep the plan and scurry back inside. It becomes clear Jason's not coming back when Heracles snorts himself awake, sniffs the air, and trots into the house of his own accord. So you follow him in, close the door gently behind you, turn the lock, and just…breathe. Long, uninterrupted inhales and exhales until they stop shuddering on the end.
"You're all right," you say to the silence of your home. Then, to Heracles: "I owe you one."
You owe him more than one, which is why you put chicken on your grocery list and underline it twice. Putting your bank account into the red to get your boy, who just saved your life for the foreseeable future with his ability to charm murderers, a treat is more than fair. Your paycheck will be hitting soon, signaling the end of the month and the oncoming loveliness of full spring, so the nasty email you'll get from the bank is worth it. As if you'd be scared of an email after the week you've had.
Vowing to do some work when you return, and after checking with the store in town that dogs are allowed—you can't bring yourself to hate that you're the kind of person that brings your dog everywhere now that your dog is a literal murder deterrent—you harness Heracles up and step outside. The two of you walk to the truck, and save for a moth that found its way inside when the door was open last night, you're uninterrupted as you coax the engine to life.
No figures in the rearview. No growling from Heracles while the trees steadily thin out until there's actual road, not just dirt, under your tires. And where town has always been more or less safe, if more crowded than you'd like after acclimating so naturally to isolation, the eyes of passerby feels heavier than before. Like they can see the deal you've struck with the beast that murders their friends, their neighbors, and you've been tainted for it. That's entirely in your head, you know, but it doesn't stop you from wanting to explain that you're not actually glad to have an understanding with a serial killer. It's still a relief to get back in your truck and know that you don't have to be back for at least a few days.
The forest accepts you back, and it feels different too. The trees press in just as much, scratch the side of your truck with their errant limbs, but there's no sinister edge to it. In the orangey afternoon light, the birches and oaks and trees too old for you to name, look golden.
You're back in the house, knife unstrapped and tucked away, and unpacking the groceries when you realize you're half-planning what cassettes you're going to get for the truck when the paycheck comes in. You like Joan Baez as much as the next person, and though one album over and over is getting old, that's not what stops you. It's the promise of having a tomorrow that does it—that you're planning for it, and the tomorrows after, in your own small way. It's how you realize that you believe Jason.
That night, when your eyes are too tired to squint at your computer screen any longer, you perform your usual lock checks. Your face gets washed, you change into whatever's comfortable and clean enough to sleep in, and you pull back the sheets on your bed. Heracles, ever your stalwart companion, spreads into the space with an appreciative sigh. After so long cramped onto the sofa with you, you suppose he's earned the right to take up more room on the king mattress than you do.
Sleep comes in waves over you. With heavy snores somewhere near your mid-back, and a light wind sighing through the trees outside your shaded and curtained window, you drift off without fear. When you dream, it is of turbulent water stretched far past the horizon, and a small boat in the middle of it. Angry waves crash in every direction except for where the boat touches, its simple, unpainted wood reflected in a circle of smooth water. A hand reaches lazily into the water and skims the surface, unafraid.
You scoff at yourself in the morning, rubbing sleep out of your eyes and replaying the dream in your head. You don't even like water, the ponds and creeks you grew up with held little except the promise of mosquitoes and alligators, so you're not sure what your subconscious is trying to tell you with this one. Still, it stays with you all through the morning routine, and as you sit down to get to work, you silently open a document and type out the scene as clearly as you remember it. Just to exorcise it from your brain, you tell yourself, but you save it to a new folder called Am I losing it. Just in case.
#jason voorhees/reader#jason voorhees/female reader#jason voorhees x reader#jason voorhees x you#slasher x reader#I was going to wait longer between putting these out but I also need to exorcise them from my brain. twinning with reader.#I have one other section ready go but I'm forcing myself to hold off#FINALLY some jason descriptions I've been dying to mention his big brown eye from the second movie#also he knows some asl despite the popularization of asl not really matching up with the timeline. pamela was a progressive lady.
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strung along by the noose
#heathers#heather chandler#veronica sawyer#kurt kelly#ram sweeney#jd heathers#jason dean#heathers the musical#midnight draws#alternate caption: Oh yes oh yes oh yes we both reached for the gun!#so grateful that this puppet master is healthy and normal. anyway#wait hold on almost forgot:#kram
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Three hours ago Damian went MIA.
He was supposed to be on patrol but three hours twenty-six minutes and forty-five seconds ago he veered off route and hasn't answered any texts, calls, or alerts since. Luckily he hadn’t turned off his tracker so they could see he was on the seventh floor of a children’s hospital in the upper west-side.
Tim would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried. Damian had been disappearing more and more often lately, but this was the first time he disappeared on patrol. Behind him Bruce was losing his mind, muttering to himself nonsense Tim didn’t bother trying to understand.
He was at the Batcomputer, hacking into the hospitals seventh floor emission room cameras and flicking through them to try and find Damian. Dick was at his left, scanning the footage for any clue of their brother’s whereabouts. Jason had his feet kicked up on his right, pretending like he didn’t care, but he was watching just as intently.
Case was trying to get Bruce to sit down and actually breath, Steph was still on patrol and Duke was dead to the world. He was pretty sure Alfred knew where Damian was going and probably had a good clue as to where he was now, but if he wasn’t saying anything Tim knew better than to ask.
Finally, they got something. Well, a bit more than something. Ok, a lot more. It was a double room, with a standard bed in front of the door and a crib across up against the wall. To the left of the standard bed were two nightstands. The first one had a light show projector shaped like a UFO, a phone charger, laptop, several fidget toys and a kalimba. The second was empty and the crib had a collapsed gate inside it. Next to the bed was a couch with a few bags sitting next to it.
In the standard bed was Damian, drawing in a sketchbook he knew wasn’t his just from the stickers on the cover. But next to him, cuddled up to him, was a girl. She was African with gold eyes and curly baby blue hair in a bob. The ends of her curls faded into multiple colors, giving the impression of a rainbow and blue sky. She was wearing a hospital gown, and Damian was wearing….a shirt that said ‘cotton candy club’ in pastel blue purple and pink with cartoon cotton candy???
The computer told him her name was Lydia Lippet, who’s family, friends and nurses nicknamed ‘Fireworks’. She was sixteen and suffered from the genetic disorder AIP–Acute Intermittent Porphyria.
He, Dick and Jason stared for a second. “Uh, B? Cass? We found him, but—Well, your not going to believe this.” “O. M. G! A girlfriend! He has a girlfriend! Oh how could we ignore the signs!?” Dick cheered as Bruce and Cass rushed to the batcomputer. They all watched as the girl-Lydia-snuggled closer to Damian, who smiled and pulled her closer by the arm around her waist.
Bruce watched silently, almost gaping. Cass just smiled. Jason took a picture then started texting so fast Tim worried he’d break his fingers. “Tim, rewind the footage and find out when Damian entered.” Bruce said, sounding confused and a little worried. Tim rewinded until he found the moment Damian, as Robin, entered through the large window.
They watched as he stared at Lydia for a minute, his eyes wide and trailing all over her. Now the crib was next to the bed and the gate was open, and the area between the beds had a blanket and all sorts of baby stuff laid out and the couch was under the window. The baby gave a little gurgle and he jumped like he didn’t know it was there. Lydia sat up and looked towards him. “Damian.” She sounded breathless, a little rough with a thick Gotham accent. “Lydia.” He sounded almost heartbroken, rushing to her side.
“What—Is this why you haven’t been answering your phone? Have you been here for two weeks? What happened?” Lydia laughed sadly. She scooted over and patted the bed, making Damian paused. He looked to the door and the nurses window then back at her. “Can I change before we speak? I don’t—“ he stopped and took a deep breath. “I’m not going to leave you.” Dick ruined the moment when he ‘aww’ed. Jason told him to shut up.
Lydia nodded and motioned to a possum-shaped plush backpack on the table across from the cradle. “I ‘ave some shirts and pants in Moonstone. The bathrooms that door.” Damian grabbed the shirt they’d seen him wearing and a pair of pink pajama pants. He was in and out in less than five minutes, which was a new record. Getting out of costume took time.
Lydia giggled softly. “Ya’ look great.” Damian huffed. “I could say the same about you.” She giggled again and hugged him as soon as he got in the bed. He stiffened for a second before relaxing and practically melting into the hug. Damian sighed and whispered, “I missed you.” Lydia hugged him tighter. “Missed you more.” They pulled back and stared at each other—
And Lydia burst into tears.
Unfortunately a nurse walked in right as she threw herself onto him and cried. The nurse stood dumbfounded as she watched Damian Wayne shush and comfort Lydia. He noticed the nurse and leaned forward. “Please leave. And don’t let the press know. For her,” he motioned to Lydia then behind him, “and the infant’s sake.”
The nurse nodded and quickly left, and Tim pulled up another camera. Thankfully the nurse kept to herself and even put a ‘do not disturb’ sign outside of the room and closed the blinds on the door and nurses window. He kept that camera up just in case but focused back on Damian and Lydia.
She was talking as she cried. “I-hic-I wanted to call ya’—“ she choked on her tears and Damian pulled her to his chest. “You don’t need to explain,نجم شمال, just let it out.” She shook her head. “I—Jazz—“ She bit her lip and looked at the cradle. The baby, Jazz, gave a tiny coo and Damian seemed to understand.
“Ok, breath for me, in and out slowly. Just like that.” In five minutes she was calm again, cradled against Damian’s chest as he ran his hand through her hair, lightly pulling a strand on his finger than letting it bounce back. Lydia had her eyes closed, a content expression on her face. “Thank you.” She whispered, opening her eyes and gazing up at him.
“Of course.” He whispered back, continuing to play with her hair. Dick was silently screaming, jumping up and down. Bruce had sat down and was watching intently. Cass was jumping with Dick. Tim was trying to piece together how long this has been going on. Damian started disappearing about two and a half years ago, so they’d definitely had time to get to know one another.
“Five years ago,” Lydia started, “I was diagnosed with AIP—Acute Intermittent Porphyria.” She pressed a button on the side of the bed that made the back end start to raise. “It’s a rare genetic disorder that has a lotta stupid triggers,” she continued, “like infections, hormones, and sunlight. Well, those are my triggers.”
“AIP sucks cause’ it’s not only rare, but symptoms and triggers are so different b’tween every person. Don’help that a lot of them are asymptomatic. It took like, a whole year in this hospital to get diagnosed.” She chuckled sadly and leaned against the bed when it was raised all the way up.
“What are your symptoms?” Damian asked softly. She huffed and put her ear to his chest. “It starts with a lot of vomiting. Like, not like there’s a lot of vomit, more like I vomit everything. Food, applesauce, pills, even water comes up in less than five minutes. Sometimes thirty seconds.”
Even water? That wasn’t good, and he could tell Damian was thinking the same thing from the way his eyes narrowed. “Then the pain starts. Abdominal pain so bad that it hurts ta’ breath. Talkin’ becomes unbearable, much less moving. And—moving.” Lydia stopped and sniffled, raising her hand. Or, trying to. A little below her neck her hand stopped and began shaking, like it was stuck in place.
He was confused for a second, but then he took in the way her hand was curled into a fist, how her fingers twitched but then returned to the same position, the tears filling her eyes. “You can’t move your hands.” Damian realized. He sounded horrified. “And if talking hurts, then singing—your instruments—“ He looked around the room before looking back to her. “Your legs as well?”
Lydia nodded sadly, letting her hand drop. “My body can’t get the nutrients it needs, so it takes it from my muscles.” She tried to open her hand with her other, but that hand was stuck in a fist too. “My body is cannibalizing itself. We’re lucky we caught it early this time. The last time it started attacking my bones.”
“You can’t sing.” Damian said again. “You can’t dance, play your instruments, draw. You’ve lost your music.” Lydia nodded again, biting her bottom lip. She took a shaky breath before continuing. “Another thing that happens is that—well, all this starts ‘cause m’body doesn't have an enzyme that it’s supposed to. And that causes it to produce another, really bad enzyme.”
“All this—we don’t really know why this is happening since it hasn’t happened with many other people with AIP, but—um.” She took another deep breath, looking Damian in the eye. “My kidneys are shutting down.” At Damian’s expression she backtracked. “Well, they were, but now their not! But their in real bad shape and that ain’t even talkin’ about my liver or appendix which by the way? Did’ya know all this could cause my appendix to burst?”
She smiled weakly as Damian immediately began fussing over her. Asking if she was in pain right now, pressing different parts of her stomach and asking if it hurt, if she’d drank any water, if she could. It was honestly really cute. He and Jason shared grins as Dick and Cass began talking about stories they could tell her, how they could introduce themselves. Bruce sat silently, looking stunned but a little pleased.
“This attack isn’t as bad as last time,” She reassured him, “and it’s nowhere near as bad as the first.” There was a story there, a sad one from the way she said it but she didn’t continue and Damian didn’t push. Jazz began babbling loudly and crawling around the crib. Lydia smiled.
“That’s Jasmine, but I call her Jazz. Baby’s ain’t suppose’ to room with anyone older than one but she needed to be emitted badly so they asked if she could stay with me. Obviously I said yes. Hiya lovebug!” Jazz squealed and sat up, clapping her hands. Damian watched as Lydia cooed and played peek-a-boo with her blanket, Jazz babbling like crazy.
“Uh oh,” Jason snorted, “I know that look.” He was right—they'd seen that face more than once. Usually before Damian brought home an animal he realistically shouldn’t have been able to find in New Jersey. Damian stood up and went around the room, putting on bright red shoes and a pastel rainbow puffer jacket and picked up the possum bag. “What’cha doing?” Lydia seemed amused. Probably because her fashion style looked a little ridiculous on Damian.
“Im going to your apartment and collecting things I know you'd like to have. And while you are not capable of using some of them such as your instruments and sketchbooks I’d enjoy practicing your art style and learning a new instrument. Jasmine would also enjoy some entertainment, no?”
Lydia stared for a few seconds before her eyes filled with tears. She used her shoulder to wipe her eyes and motioned Damian forward. When he was within reach she pulled him down by his shirt to hug him. She whispered something in his ear that made him smile and say something back before leaving through the window. Tim sped up the footage until Damian returned, which was an hour later. The bag didn’t look to be full, and thinking about it, how was he supposed to fit instruments and sketchbooks in a backpack that size? He gave the backpack to her, took off the shoes and jacket and got back into the bed, smiling as she gasped.
She reached in and pulled out the kalimba from before which was wider than the bag and a colorful hip-chain with six rainbow stars, each one with a clip on the bottom connected to a ribbon that seemed to be a backwards rainbow. The first three ribbons were wrapped around and holding small poké balls, while the other three were empty.
Lydia positioned her hands on the kalimba before playing. Even with her hands, which took her a minute to get into the right position, she played it beautifully. Damian listened to the upbeat song for a moment. “An Irish jig?” Lydia nodded. “The Butterfly by Tommy Potts.” Jazz squealed at the song, clapping her hands and crawling around her cradle.
Lydia smiled and continued playing, asking Jazz if she liked it when she was done. Jazz screamed and babbled happily, bouncing in place and waving and clapping her hands. Lydia looked in the bag again, this time pulling out a flute longer than the bag?? Tim looked between his siblings and father as they took in the footage.
Jason began laughing, probably at Bruce’s face. “The brats girlfriends a meta! An unknown meta in Gotham!” Bruce, who had unfortunately taken off his cowl while watching the footage, looked simultaneously devastated and confused. “She could be a magician!” Dick said, patting Bruce on the back. “Maybe it’s like Mary Poppins or Hermione Grangers never ending bag!”
Damian gave her a look, but Lydia said she needed to exercise her lungs. He huffed, but helped her raise her hands. The next song she played was very different from the one before, and Tim recognized it immediately. “That’s Isabella’s Lullaby from The Promised Neverland.” Dick and Jason nodded, Cass doing the same from her seat next to Bruce. Bruce looked a little confused before Cass signed to him ‘anime’.
Jazz made a ‘whoaaaaa’ sound and listened intently. Damian was listening as well, and as the first verse ended he began to sing.
‘Let me sing a lullaby
As you close your eyes
And as your drifting off to sleep
How I hope that the dreams that find you
Are bright’
Damians voice was surprisingly nice, slightly deep and his accent a bit more pronounced. He had an arm wrapped around Lydias waist and his eyes closed. He looked calm.
‘Love can we meet again soon in the bluest of skies?
Where a tomorrow waits for you and I
So hold me tight one more time, but don’t say goodbye
‘Cause I know that I’ll see you on the other side’
Lydia had her eyes closed too, swaying slightly to the tune. Jazz looked mesmerized.
‘I will think of our song when the nights are too long’
Damian opened his eyes and gazed at Lydia
‘I’ll dream of you for that’s where I belong
Love, can we meet again soon in the bluest of skies
Only, in my dreams, do we meet again’
Damian’s voice ended on the same tune as the flute, and when the note ended Lydia opened her eyes. They locked eyes and stayed that way until Jazz squealed. Damian blinked rapidly for a few seconds before blushing, Lydia laughing even though her face was turning red as well.
“You’ve gotten better.” She leaned into him as Damian huffed, looking away but pulling her even closer. Damian was going to retort but the door opened again and two people entered. One was a black women shorter than Damian with greying thick curly hair similar to Lydias pulled into a large bun, and the other was a tall heavyset white man with a receding hairline and grey beard. The computer told him they were Laura and Logan Lippet, Lydia’s parents.
They had styrofoam take out boxes and a drink carrier. They stopped when they saw Damian, but then continued on. “Hey Damian!” Mr.Lippet said, putting the boxes on the table. “Was wondering when you’d show up.” Mrs.Lippet and Lydia laughed as Damian smiled, accepting Mrs.Lippets hug. “When’d you get here? Or how’s a better word.” She laughed and handed a box to Lydia and sat a drink on the nightstand.
“Garlic pasta!” She cheered, kissing her moms cheek. “I just came back after, uh. I broke into your apartment again, but only to collect Lydias things.” Mr.Lippet threw his head back and laughed as Mrs.Lippet smiled and shook her head. “As to how, don’t worry about it.” The Lippets laughed again. “Did you see the brownies Liam made?” “Yes, he added pistachios this time.”
“They seem weirdly chill about a billionaires son breaking into their house and getting into their daughters hospital room.” Jason commented, Tim and the others agreeing. Lydias parents had expected Damian to not only show up, but eat their food when entering their house? Either Damian was closer to these people than they thought, or the Lippets were a little crazy. Judging from the records he was seeing, it looked like the latter.
“That’s weird,” Tim hummed, “there’s records of her meta gene, but for some reason we didn’t get an alert.” Usually every time a meta was documented in Gotham they would be sent an alert about it through a not-so-legal chain system Babs set up. But even though Lydias meta gene was reported when she was three, they’d never gotten an alert. Well, now that Tim was looking, they had. But it’d been deleted very recently.
Apparently her ability was ‘Art Manifestation’. Tim didn’t know what that meant, but he had a feeling they’d find out. He brought up the file next to the camera where the Lippets and Damian were talking and laughing. Damian was holding Lydias drink just out of reach, laughing as she tried to grab it with her teeth. “Use your hands,” he taunted her, “it’s physical therapy!” Her parents roared with laughter as Lydia began hitting him as best she could. She was laughing with them.
A little while later Jazz's parents came in with a nurse. They had the normal reaction to seeing Damian Wayne cuddling with Lydia. “Hey Joseph, hey Ariana!” Mr.Lippet called to the stunned couple, “This is Damian, Lydias boyfriend.” Damian greeted them as politely as he could with Lydia teaching him how to use the portable loom she’d apparently forgotten she had in the possum bag.
“Their dating!?” Dick gasped. “Isn’t that what you said?” “I was joking! Oh my god, Damian actually has a girlfriend!” Jason laughed again and Dick began panicking. “Oh we were supposed to spy on their first date! And mess with Damian about it, figure out her favorite things so we could tell Damian, oh my god we missed seeing them on Valentine’s Day!” Cass patted his back. ‘There will still be valentines days to see and things to bully Damian about. I do not think they’ve had sex yet.’
Bruce choked. “Cass!” She gave him a confused expression as Jason laughed harder. Dick continued to sulk. “I don’t wanna know about that stuff…..I hope he at least tells us about their first date.” “I’m more interested in how they met. Lydia seems pretty forward so far.” Jason snorted. “You think she asked him out?” Tim shrugged. “You think Damian would’ve?”
Apparently Jazz was getting moved to Boston Children’s Hospital for further treatment. Damian and the Lippets helped her parents pack up Jazz’s toys while Lydia tried to persuade them to let her help. “I can stand!” She whined. “But you can’t for a long time,” her dad responded, “and while your stretching has helped a lot we don’t want you over exerting yourself and getting hurt.”
“Has she been seen by physical therapy?” Damian asked. Her mom huffed. “She’s supposed to see them every day, but just like last time we’ve only seen them the first day. They come in, tell us she’ll be seen every day and then we never see them again!” Damian gave an unpleased ‘Tt’ as he folded Jazz’s blankets.
In a few minutes they were ready to leave and the Lippets cheerfully said their goodbyes, Damian doing so awkwardly. After they left Lydia reached over and opened her computer. “Now it’s horror movie time!” The Lippets laughed as Damian raised an eyebrow and sat next to her. “You couldn’t watch them before?”
“Not with Jazz in the room,” she muttered, switching between scrolling and typing. “Don’ wanna traumatize the baby. Y’all feeling like a thriller or gore?” Her dad looked over her shoulder from where he was standing. “Damian, you ever seen ‘Someone Marry Barry’?” Mrs.Lippet snorted as Lydia groaned.
“We are not watching a romcom.” “Why not?” Her dad whined. “Netflix just got like seven new more!” Damian smiled as Lydia argued with her dad. He seemed more relaxed with them than he did at the manor. Lydia and her dad got into a slap fight. It felt weird to watch normal people play fighting. Usually when they play fought it’d involve actual weapons and strategies to find the best place to tickle.
But Lydia and her dad were normal people. They slapped each other harmlessly, without worrying if they’d accidentally hurt them. Lydia shrieked with delight as her dad grabbed her and shook her around, chanting ‘Romcom, romcom, romcom!’ “Alright alright alright!” She giggled, “we’ll watch one horror one romcom, how’bout that?” Her dad agreed and pulled the table from across her bed to the foot of the bed. He then moved the crib to the position they’d first seen it in.
While Lydia found a movie Mr.Lippet moved the couch from under the window next to the bed. He and Mrs.Lippet settled on the couch, Mrs.Lippet with crochet and Mr.Lippet with his own computer. “We can watch the Evil Dead series! They just made a new movie!” Lydia said excitedly, showing Damian a movie screen that he’d seen trailers for. Damian tilted his head.
“How will we watch a series when we’re switching genres?” “We watch one, watch one of dad’s shitty romcoms, then the second movie, and so on!” Mr.Lippet snorted, “Just for that I’m going to make your Roblox avatar ugly.” They all laughed. “Hey! Don't do that! I can’t fight back, we’re watching movies!” Her dad playfully rolled his eyes and muttered “hang on,” and began typing very fast.
“Lydia, turn on the TV.” She did. They waited as he typed very fast for a few minutes before the hospital TV glitched, blacked out and then showed Lydias computer screen on Prime. They cheered. “What the fuck?” Jason said, “How the hell’d he do that?” Tim shrugged. “I’m not surprised,” Barbara’s voice came through over comms, “He’s the configuration manager for TSA, and before that he was IT, and before that he was CIA, and before that he was Navy Seal. He’s on the no fly list because he used to be a spy in the CIA.”
Oh. “And he lives in Gotham….why? Does he have any connection with any rogues?” “He was born in Michigan, Laura in Texas, and they married in Virginia and then moved around a lot because of the military. They were in Hawaii before they were deployed here at the harbor, Logan retired, and they had Lydia and her brother Liam. They’re Irish twins, she’s October 15th 2007 and he’s the 17th 2008. No connection to any rouges other than accidentally meeting Scarecrow in civies and telling him to go fuck himself for his bad parking.”
They all laughed as Lydia used the hospital remote to choose the first Evil Dead movie. Then she pulled out another computer and handed it to Damian, and pulled her computer off the table and into her lap. She typed a little, then gasped. “Hey! That’s not nice!” Damian laughed as her dad retorted, “Calling romcoms shitty isn’t nice! Enjoy your skeleton!” Damian snorted. An actual snort.
Was he dead? Hallucinating? Dreaming? Or did he actually hear Damian Wayne snort? “Well, I approve.” Jason laughed as Lydia and Damian began playing Roblox with her dad. “She’s making him laugh, he’s relaxed, he gets along well with her parents and her parents are apparently super cool with all his weirdness. I think we’re looking at the future Mrs. Wayne!” Honestly? He wouldn’t mind having another new and weird addition to this family.
#Damian Wayne x original character#original character#damian wayne#tim drake#jason todd#bruce wayne#cassandra cain#batfam#not me projecting a disorder I have but the character I gave it to initially didn’t#Like I know she’s an original character and I can just give it to her but. Y’know. No I can’t#The baby inspired by a baby I met in the hospital#Different name and illness but the same cutie patootie :3#Writing this also made me realize that I haven’t really decided what Lydia Lippets main power is even though I thought I had#Like in both the main stories I use her in she’s The Bard and can alter reality and create things by singing#But then I write multiple shorts like this and it’s like ‘oh no everything she draws can be brought off the page and into real life’#It’s like jfc me pick a power#Also implied that those pokeballs hold actual Pokémon she brought to life#if you want to see more of her your going to have to wait because hands no write :’)
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12, 14, and 21 for the end of year asks!!
HI BIRDIE !!!
12. Oh I have so many concepts. I have an entire list. They're all about Jason because I have a blatant favorite. Top three contenders because I can't choose:
Jason Todd de-aging fic where he ends up back at age 14/15 & insists upon solving his own murder. We'd have to go through the logistics of the whole reveal of who he is now and the fact that he died and also the handwavey explanation for why he's a kid for the foreseeable future. But after that! He finds out he died due to going after the Joker alone, decides that it doesn't sound like something he would do, and singlehandedly tries to solve what actually happened in that warehouse while everyone else begs him not to run around potentially retraumatizing himself.
Jason Todd died outside Gotham and experienced his rebirth through the Lazarus Pit also outside Gotham, and then spent a lot of time running around outside Gotham. Gotham, being posessive and upset about this, literally outright rejects him by the time he tries to step foot back in the city for Hush. Concept's extremely vague but there's this general theme of changing so much you become unrecognizable that I want to explore? Potentially this manifests as a ghost-adjacent version of Jason who retains his Robin appearance + perhaps a bit from his catatonic days on the streets, because I love forcing Jason to confront different versions of himself. Bonus Gotham is literally evil vs. All-Blades that destroy "absolute evil" exploration possible here.
The Jason Todd & Tim Drake get drop-kicked into a shitty alternate universe where Jason killed Tim at Titan's Tower concept we talked about! We're definitely keeping Bruce perma-lost in the timestream, with Dick as Batman and Damian as Batman's not-Robin sidekick, Jason's in Arkham but about as flippant about it as he is in B&R #23. I am daydreaming about the amount of angst I could fit in this one.
14. Animation! I'm not very good at it or patient enough, but it's a lot of fun. Here's a silly little thing I made a while back. (cw: flashing)
In terms of writing, this is the first year I've really started writing fanfiction about canon characters (as opposed to ocs set in a specific universe). The back and forth of cross-referencing canon material & sifting through how much canon I actually accept + being concerned about how in-character I'm writing someone is something I haven't had to worry about much before.
21. "Something" is very vague. Um.
piece of official media: Moon Knight vol 9 (2021) everyone needs to read this right now. It works better as a culmination of everything if you read, at the very least, Lemire's run, Age of Khonshu, and Moon Knight's tenure on the West Coast Avengers first. And probably others that I'm forgetting off the top of my head right now. Alternatively maybe just every single one of his comic appearances prior to 2021 because Jed Mackay is fucking brilliant at tying that shit into one satisfying narrative.
fic: Everything goes away by blingbland broke into my house and bullied me to the point of tears. It's a Dick & Jason fic where Dick ends up sent back in time to the few weeks before Jason dies in Ethiopia. I love time travel but in a very narrow and specific way that means I usually don't like how they conclude. However. This one? This one had me by the throat and executed everything perfectly.
#okay wait how the fuck am i supposed to tag this#revek asks#revek's art#jason todd#among us#fic rec (singular)#eh good enough#holding you at gunpoint. look at my among us animation Now.#i don't think i can legally tag this one with moon knight folks but he's here !!! read his comics. pleaseeee#end of year asks#flashing#cw flashing#flash warning
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TMA Excerpt Part 2: Jayrose Edition
Ft. Hunt! Jason, Eye! Rose, dog imagery, suggestive themes, canon typical murder and gore, and a hint of cannibalism as a treat. they're evil and married your honor @perseus-jackass
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Bones crunch under the pressure of his jaws, tender flesh splitting to welcome in his teeth as blood drenches the concrete and his clothes. He'd just washed these yesterday, so at least it's Rose's day for laundry.
The writhing thing beneath him makes an agonized noise as Jason's claws dig into it's soft belly, guts spilling out as Jason rips and tears with wild abandon, lost to the haze of blood and the rushing victory of a successful chase.
The deliberate footsteps become apparent behind him as Rose decides to let him know of her presence. Not that she needs to, he's a Hunter, he smelled her the second she turned the corner of the block. Thick and smokey and almost enough to distract him from the bones he's cleaning with heavy swipes of his tongue.
Almost.
The growl rises in his chest unbidden as she steps close to his kill, but a sharp look and pointed whistle is all it takes to bring him to heel. The noise freezes in his chest abruptly and he straightens his spine like an eager puppy greeting it's owner. He scrambles over to her without bothering to stand, kneeling at her feet with a blood stained grin.
She telegraphs her movements as she reaches towards his face, thumb sliding through the viscera along his jaw briefly before she hooks her pointer finger behind his fully extended canines, playfully tugging at it. He let's her, let's his jaw relax and his shoulders slump forward. Rose rewards him by carding her strong fingers through his hair, unheeding of the gore drying in tacky clumps in his curls.
She clicks her tongue when she reaches the white streaks in his hair. "Should just dye it red at this point." She drawls, smile soft and indulgent, the way one looks at a prized pet whose just knocked over a house plant and rolled around in the soil.
He can't quite speak yet, an almost human noise the closest vocalization he can manage as far down as he is. This is fine, he doesn't need to be present. Rose will take his leash, and he will follow wherever she leads. Let it never be said that he's untrained.
Her now bloody fingers drop to the thick leather collar around his neck, lightly brushing the sparkling eye pendant before backtracking to the ring it dangles from. She tugs once, twice, gentle but firm. "Time to go home." She intones softly.
He nods, only just managing to push himself to his haunches. He towers over her like this, but she leads him easier than even a real dog might allow. A low, constant rumble starts in his throat, getting louder when the finger looped around his collar is replaced by a firm hand in his oversized paws.
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#dc#tma au 2.0#jason todd#rose wilson#jayrose#Hunt! Jason#Eye! Rose#blorbo posting#The Head Archives is a very specific version of my tma au that I have concrete ideas for#this is part of a very very short series of ficlets that have nothing but vibes behind them#WAIT HOLD ON#Paw and Order#they're kind of like Trevor and Julia as freelance monster hunters#they tell people they're detectives to get into restricted areas but not one of them has a qualification to their name and are both#actively wanted criminals who the police are terrified to detain#my fic
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@tinybro had thoughts about a CHB!Jason au and it gave me thoughts and now i'm giving those thoughts back but they got uhhh.... pretty long
Jason grew up in CHB and ran away with Nico when Nico left. Excellent! They’re best friends and travel together and all that. Nico still has his crush on Percy for a while at the beginning, Jason goes with Nico partially as a way to get back at Thalia for joining the hunters. The two of them had been getting along really well! Thalia had been a little bit bossy and all that, but she used to change his diapers. He understood, and he was doing SO well getting her to accept him as a mature adult (12-year-old child) and then she made this huge decision without even talking to him first and he was upset. Thus, he left with Nico and never looked back.
Jason—as a child of Jupiter—does not have the same freedoms as Nico in the Underworld and isn’t allowed down there whenever he wants. Jason is supposed to wait on the surface when Nico pops down for whatever reason, but Hades turns a blind eye if Jason ends up getting closer. As long as he doesn’t cross the ferry and go through the gates, nobody can accuse him of favoritism. (Hades does, in fact, like Jason (after an adjustment period!!!). Jason is very good for Nico. But Hades would never hear the end of it if he let some random demigod into his domain without at least /trying/ to trap him down there. Orpheus would stage a coup.)
(COMPLETELY UNRELATED BUT JASON DEVELOPS A FRIENDSHIP WITH CHARON FROM ALL THE TIMES HE’S JUST STANDING AROUND ON THE BANKS OF THE STYX WAITING FOR NICO TO GET BACK. HE TEACHES CHARON YO-YO TRICKS OR SOMETHING.)
The two of them learn about Camp Jupiter and Jason’s true heritage. They check it out and accidentally become, like, swords for hire or something. Jason isn’t going to give up traveling with Nico, are you kidding? Doesn't matter if he supposedly ~belongs here~ or not, he likes where he is now. On the other hand, they can’t just do nothing when these people are planning to take down Mount Othrys. Jason sticks around Camp Jupiter to help them out and Nico helps at CHB and they iris message each other daily to share intel and try not to get too lonely.
(What really grabbed my interest was the plot of HoO, though, so we skip to that now :3c)
In the aftermath of the Titan War, Nico went to the Underworld solo and pulled Hazel out. Jason was waiting for them at the exit doors. He gives Nico and Hazel time to bond as siblings and takes on all the chores of, like, getting food and setting up camp and stuff as they make their way to CJ. All this to say that by the time they get to CJ, Hazel and Nico are close! They’re siblings! And Hazel knows Jason, but she isn't nearly as close with him. She knows he won't let her die and she knows that he cares about her brother, but sometimes she doesn't quite get what his angle is.
Frank has been at CJ for a lot longer for… reasons that I don’t care enough to figure out. He’s established enough to be the one camp swapped, though, so he’s off in CHB right now learning how to interact with his Very welcoming sister Clarisse. Which means he’s not available for the quest :'( which gets assigned to… Percy? For reasons? Because Mars hates him and wants Percy to do his dirty work while Percy can’t remember shit? Because he thinks Percy will fail and he wants to laugh at it? No idea, logic doesn’t matter, plot ONLY. Anyway.
Percy and Hazel are going on the quest for suresies, but they need a third and Percy wants it to be Jason. Jason immediately protests that he’s not a viable option, he’s not a centurion here—but someone reminds him that he’s helped them in the past. He might not be a centurion by technicality, but he’s the Hero of Mount Othrys. His father is still a Roman god. Branded or not, he belongs here. (they have never given up hope that he’ll join up one day.) Jason tries to fight it a little more, but Nico stops him with a hand to his shoulder or something.
It’s alright, Nico says, he has to go to the underworld for a while anyway. There’s an errand that he’s been putting off because he hadn’t found a proper babysitter for Jason yet. He knows Jason will be safe with Hazel, so he can go take care of what he needs to. Works out perfect.
Jason can read between the lines—Nico wants him to protect Hazel and keep an eye on Percy—but doesn’t like the separation. In the end, he goes, though. All the canon bonding scenes between Hazel and Frank go to Hazel and Jason this time, and they’re completely platonic. He becomes a sort of second brother to her. Jason’s shit at lying and hiding things, so Percy finds out that he knew Jason even before he gets his memories back, and it’s a bit tense there afterward, but whatever. They get back to New Rome in time to save the day and meet the Argo II and Jason only climbs aboard at first because he’s making sure Hazel gets there safely, she still doesn’t have a whole lot of experience on the battlefield. He gets knocked out by the plot convenience brick while he’s on deck and nobody bothers to move him <3
When they find out about where Nico is and where he’s been, Jason absolutely flips his shit. This surprises everyone except Hazel. Jason has always been the gentler one of the Runaway Duo, and the members of the Argo II realize that’s because Nico The Grouch somehow brings out the best in Jason. Percy is initially against finding Nico—maybe phrased a bit gentler this time, with both Hazel AND Jason staring him down—and Jason yells at him so bad he starts crying. (Jason starts crying, not Percy.) There’s a lot of bottled up resentment that Percy did Not know about and they don’t talk to each other for a while after that.
(surprise, some of the resentment is because jealousy! Nico told Jason about how he had a crush on Percy sometime during their years together and Jason—who hadn’t even realized boys were an option until this very moment—can’t fathom for the life of him what Percy Jackson did to deserve that. Jason can make storms with his mind, too.)
#mj talks#chb!jason au#oh god there was so much tumblr said i couldn't have it all in one text post#just wait. there's more. i promise this is not the first draft of a fic.#i warned you it was long!!!! i warned you there was a lot!!!!#alright hold on let me get the rest of this out
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Now that Jason Todd has become so popular on tumblr, I think dc should let him stop dyeing his hair again
#dc comics#jason todd#let a new generation of fans go ‘wait hold on his hair WASNT NATURAL? HIS HAIR IS WHAT COLOR WAIT WHAT’
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is there.......an actual yellowjackets secret episode
#why do i kinda believe it wait#i need cabin guy backstory and they promised me jason ritter this season#showtime app apparently says new episode coming july 1 sam hanratty#is holding a clapper that says episode ten in an insta post is this actually fucking happening rn
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ooh i’m now thinking about the court intrigue part of your dragon au, and dick and jason being smack dab in the middle of a power struggle. bc there’s a faction of ppl who don’t want dick as crown prince; he’s foreign opinionated, popular, and not as easy to control. and so when jason comes along looking like the spitting image of bruce, and seemingly shy and manipulatable, they seize onto him. and jason’s obviously super smart, but he’s not used to the underhand way the court works, and starts to trust many in that faction bc they’re kind to him( bonus points if they have some servants working for them, bc jason trusts the servants way faster as fellow common ppl)
and dick isn’t an idiot, so he sees what’s happening and sees his little brother who he loves but doesn’t know that well, start to befriend all the people plotting against him. and he can’t call him out on it and look jealous (even though he is super jealous bc here comes this adorable kid, who could be bruce’s real son and isn’t perpetually a foreigner, coming along and stealing his father’s love and trying to undo everything he’s worked for). so he instead tries to befriend jason more, while always half being on guard for a knife in the back. jason picks up on weird vibes but has no clue what’s happening bc he’s a kid and the court is filled with so many weird vibes lol.
and jason grows increasingly entrenched in that faction, and then dies in a way that looks like he turned traitor but it went wrong and he got killed (not what happened, but the evidence is very convincing) (the anti-dick faction is also upset bc darn there goes their heir). and bruce and dick are heartbroken (bruce especially since he was blindsided since dick never told him any of his suspicions since he didn’t think bruce would believe him). but they don’t spread the news of jason as a traitor bc he was a kid and they don’t want to do that to his memory, and there’s like a tiny kernel of hope that maybe there was a mistake. but then jason comes back to life on the dragon of the tyrant, and immediately begins gunning for the throne (via attacking the heirs to the throne, tim and dick). and dick is heartbroken all over again, bc his little brother really does want him dead and to steal the crown. jason has 0 clue about any of this and is hurt and confused why his brother is calling him a traitor. cue much angst
Omg the MISUNDERSTANDINGS I am THRIVING
Dick and Jason would inadvertently end up in a downward spiral of hate and betrayal, with Dick convinced Jason is trying to usurp the throne and Jason thinking Dick never loved him and took the first chance to get himself a new little brother. One that isn’t common folk 😭
But also, Dick could think that he could sacrifice himself to keep Tim safe.
Jason wants him after all, right? He might be angry at Tim, but it’s Dick who he wants dead. The crown prince. Because if he’s gone, Jason will be next in line for the throne. And if Dick is smart about this, he can strike a bargain that will ensure Tim gets to live….
#I am a huge sucker for misunderstandings#Dick: TRAITOR! I trusted you! I LOVED you!#Jason: … ok??? and????????? is this about your stupid sugar stash again?????#dick: What? no! this is about you trying to usurp the throne!#Jason: bitch I didn’t even want JOKER’s throne#dick: — what?#Jason: wtf man if you want the crown so bad just smother the old man with a pillow or something I sure af don’t want it#dick: but-#Jason: I am NOT sitting in a stuffy council room all day and listen to old people bitch about who’s grand daughter is prettier#Dick: wait-#Jason: seriously you do not want me on the throne I would lose my temper within ten minutes and need a new council altogether#Dick: hold on-#Jason: Red would eat them. no scratch that I would eat them#Dick:… I feel like I’m missing something here#dragon au#jason todd#dick grayson#misunderstandings
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The only way to release the host, is to sever the connection...
- Teaser from Chapter 7 of Let The Games Begin
#rayllum#tdp callum#tdp rayla#hoo jason#hoo leo#hoo piper#kane chronicles carter#kane chronicles sadie#current wip#current fic project#hold onto your hats#you guys have literally#NO idea whats coming up#cant wait to share it
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let's fucking gooooo gender clusterfuck
dick is genderqueer ! she likes to keep her hair that short - but - long - enough - to - be - floppy style because it can mix and match with any presentation she's feelin' ! makeup is always fun and reminds him of haly's ; the more glitter, the better :) they're cool with any and all pronouns because fuck it we ball
jason is a trans man, period. if you deadname him he'll kill you.
gar is none binrary. . . they/them feels most accurate to what they feel, but they likewise don't feel any repulsion from their assigned at birth he/him pronouns. they also aren't averse to it/its due to their shapeshifting ability, but thanks to the experimentation they've suffered and dehumanization they've dealt with, it can be complicated.
koriand'r does not give a shit <3 she loves feeling and presenting like a ' woman ', however there are like 30 different genders on tamaran. she loves playing with earth genders though and thinks neopronouns are cool as hell
selina is a wannabe cryptid. she is often actively trying to distance herself from her humanity and would much rather run around biting scratching growling like an animal. she has no aversion to what she was assigned at birth, but she takes great pleasure in experiencing the exact moment her enemies perceive her movements in the shadows as something rather than someone.
#mobile.#trans people travel in herds... flocks you might even say....#wait no that's birds. hold on#headcanon. . .⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝙲𝚁𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚄𝚂𝙴⠀:⠀dick#headcanon. . .⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙳𝚂 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝚃𝙴𝙲𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙵𝙻𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚂⠀:⠀jason#headcanon. . .⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝙶𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝚄𝚂 𝚆𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝙵𝙻𝚈⠀:⠀gar#study. . .⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽⠀:⠀koriand'r#study. . .⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽⠀:⠀selina
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