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jasntodds · 1 year ago

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Broken Heart Of Gold [J.T.]

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Request: yes, here

Summary: After Jason messes up on a mission, he goes to you

Warnings: Swearing, hurt/comfort, mentions of injuries, self-deprecating thoughts (jason), mentions of previous homelessness, mentions of death

Words: 2,514

A/n: I was listening to You Are Enough by Citizen Soldier and Broken Heart Of Gold by One OK Rock so here we are lol I also have another fic similar to this here because I will write this concept a million times if no one stops me. If you wanna be tagged in my fics, you can click the link below, send me an ask/comment, or follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

masterlist | request info | tag list

He’s been doing this for years. He was just thirteen when he first put on the Robin suit. And it was magical.

Being Robin always made Jason feel like he was magic. He was invincible and strong and worthy and enough and important. He had a purpose. For so much of his life, he was the one taking care of his mom and then she died. She died and it left him cold and alone and on the streets. But Robin brought him importance and safety and warmth. Being Robin meant he lived in a home where he was cared for and never asked to care for them. Not that he ever minded caring for his mom because he never did. But it was nice not having to take care of himself, even if he always did anyway. Being Robin gave him freedom and he got to kick ass. He got to go out there and he got to help Batman bring down some of the worst of the worst. He was enough and important. And worthy. But he wasn’t invincible. Because the Joker killed him.

He died and that was that. Robin wasn’t magic or invincible. Robin was just some kid in a mask and cape. But, then a betrayal to death and fate happened and Jason’s alive again. He came back and became Red Hood because the Joker was alive and well, Bruce had a new Robin, and the world left Jason behind.

He came back and it’s as if he wasn’t even wanted. He became Red Hood for people like him. The ones left behind. The ones Bruce won’t help in the way he should. Jason became Red Hood, knowing this life only leads to pain and death, to do what Bruce is too cowardly to do. He became Red Hood to be the voice for all the victims like him. That could have been saved if the hard choices were just made but weren’t. He is their voice and their protector. So, he’s been doing this for years. And the missions that go south, still never get any easier.

There’s a loud thud coming from your window, snapping you from your shallow sleep on the couch. You sit up quickly, your head slightly spinning with the sudden movement and you look over to your window, seeing the reflective red helmet shining back at you in the low light of the city and your apartment.

Jason takes the helmet, a mild quiver to his fingertips. “Sorry.” Jason mutters. “Did I wake you?”

You shake your head, moving to your knees so you can get a better look at him. “No, I was just lying down.” You lie, knowing he hates waking you up and you hadn’t been asleep more than twenty minutes anyway.

“That’s good.” Jason clears his throat but he hasn’t made any attempt to get up off the floor or make direct eye contact with you.

It’s all feeling heavy. His head, his eyes, his limps. Everything around him feels like it’s starting to close in. The adrenaline is crashing and everything feels like it’s about to suck the last breath from his lungs. It all hurts and aches and he usually handles it well, the injuries just come with the territory. He’s used to the pain but then nights like tonight happen and everything hurts. Every passed injury is echoing in pain, coming back for vengeance. The autopsy scars burn even though they shouldn’t, his face feels numb even though those injuries have been long healed from the pit. Every haunted injury comes back with a shattering echo.

“Jay?” You ask softly, trying to get him to look at you.

Usually, when Jason comes back from patrol, he's injured in some capacity. But, most of the time, he has this grin anyway that could light up Gotham's darkest alleyways. It's always a little cheeky and always a little arrogant. And charming. Because he went out and he did something good, for people who can't help themselves. His eyes are usually bright, blue and bold with enough energy to power your apartment. Those are the times he usually comes to you but then sometimes, like tonight, it's like every ghost comes back and takes over. The light is gone from his eyes and it's as if he's physically incapable of managing even a fake reassuring smile. It's these nights that are always the most worrisome because you know Jason has a habit of beating himself up relentlessly when something bad happens.

For a second, he’s not sure why he showed up here. You always clean him up and stitch him up. You’ve been doing it since he was Robin. A routine because you always understood when he needed to talk or sit in silence. But tonight, he’s not even feeling like he’s worthy of the kindness that radiates from your unbroken bones. He doesn’t think he deserves the help you always offer and the understanding because he failed tonight. And it was his fault. It was so bad that his jaw clenches as his heart starts to thunder.

"Are you okay?" You keep your voice soft, just above a whisper as if speaking too loudly will shatter him entirely.

His breath hitches in his throat with the question. He nearly shatters into a billion pieces right into your carpet. Jason Todd, on a good day, is rarely ever really okay but tonight it’s so much worse. He’s trapped in a harsh reality of what he does every night and he’s trapped in his own head, haunted by every passed mistake he’s ever made. Is he doing the right thing? Is this the only way? Is Bruce right? Maybe he is fucked up and maybe he never should have been brought back. Maybe those people would be alive right now if it weren’t for him.

Jason swallows his own heartbeat, a task that feels more like swallowing river rocks. "Yeah, I'm fine." His words are short and brittle while a redness starts to wash over his eyes.

You nod slowly before you get up from your spot on the couch. Jason watches you carefully and he knows you’re about to offer him the care he swears up and down he does not deserve. You crouch in front of him, resting your hands on his knees. Jason nearly pulls away but he knows it would hurt you if he did and he doesn’t want to cause anyone else any more pain. Not tonight.

“You don’t look fine.” You say softly as you tilt your head to the right. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jason nods as his mouth runs dry. “A few places.”

“Okay so I’ll get the kit and you can move the couch.”

“You don’t have to fucking help, alright? I don’t know why I came here.” Jason huffs but it's weak and ragged, forced as if speaking is too much of a task.

“You always come to me for help, Jay.” Your voice is kind and gentle as your thumbs lightly run over his knees.

“I know but I’ve already stained your carpet and couch. It’s late and you have work. I’ll just go home. It’s fine.” Jason shakes his head, his eyes plastered where your hands meet his knees.

“I don’t mind.” You shrug as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Taking care of you, I mean. It doesn’t bother me.” You offer him a soft smile once he glances up to you. “And Alfred told me how to get the stains out so…you really wanna use that as an excuse or you gonna let him help you?”

Jason lets out a sigh. “I don’t know.” There's a quiver in his voice.

You tap his head lightly with your finger, Jason's eyes finally locking on yours. "What's going on up there?"

You were on the streets together before he got lucky, well, depending how you want to look at it. You've known him for years and Jason has always been the one who wants better for people, Robin and Red Hood just gave him the opportunity to actually help those people. But, with that, he's also been the person who doesn't really know his worth or believes he's enough. A lot of things have happened, a lot of people have come and gone to nail those thoughts into the deepest parts of his mind. Those are always the thoughts that tend to be the ones that stick, even if they aren't true and you know they aren't.

You know Jason has a heart of gold and always has, always will. He thinks dying charged a part of that because sometimes, it feels like he should still be dead. So, he beats his heart out of his chest until he shatters into pieces, the shards always ricocheting back at him. He breaks his own heart because he thinks he deserves it, scattering the pieces in hopes the pain will always be true to what he deserves. But, you come around and pick up the pieces anyway because you always knew he was enough and worthy and important. You always knew that Jason would do what was best, for him and for other people who needed help.

"I got a damn cipher wrong and I was too late." Jason's voice finally cracks, his words harsh and aimed at himself.

His eyes always turn to almost a navy blue whenever he starts crying. It doesn't happen often, at least not around you, but you notice it. It's as if the emotional turmoil takes over every part of him stripping him of the liviness he usually has and that includes the brightness of his eyes. And it breaks your heart every time.

Jason has always had a thing about not being enough. He wasn't enough for either of his parents to stop using or enough for his dad to stick around, get a legal job. He wasn't enough for Bruce. A lot of people have tried over the years for him and tried with good intentions to just genuinely help because he deserved to be happy and healthy and safe but for some reason, it was never enough. Something else would happen and it'd mess it all up and the only one who ever got hurt in the mess was Jason. He's mentioned, a handful of times, maybe it was just him. Destined to like this forever. But you never saw it that way.

"I'm sorry, Jay." You brush the white streak of hair out of his eyes. "Do you wanna talk about it?" You ask, your brows pulled together.

You never saw him as not enough or damaged. He's an asshole, sure, but he's also kind and forgiving. He just wants to help people. Even when you were kids, questioning where your next meal was coming from, he'd try to help other kids if he could. It's what he did. It's what he does. You found out he was Robin and all you could do was laugh because the whole vigilante thing really fit him. Maybe not the way Bruce wanted things done, but helping people who the GCPD can't or won't help. But, even beyond being a vigilante, he's your favorite person. And you wouldn't trade him for the entire world. You desperately wish he could see himself through your eyes. Maybe it would help on nights like tonight.

"No." Jason scoffs, shaking his head. "No, I don't wanna talk or think about it anymore."

"Okay." You shrug casually, knowing he'll talk in bits and pieces later. "So, why don't we get you cleaned up and stitched up then we lay down. We can watch something or I can read to you until you fall asleep. Your choice." You offer him a gentle and kind smile.

"I don't wanna keep you up later. You'll be late for work again." Jason huffs, guilty pulling at the pit of his stomach.

You shrug, giving him a cheeky grin. "Eh, yeah, I can take some PTO." Your face suddenly lights up. "What if I take PTO and we go to Petsmart tomorrow, pick up some food and we go see the kittens at the shelter? If we bring in food, we can hang out with them for a little while."

The excitement in your voice gets Jason to crack a small and fragile smile. You know how much he likes cats. It's a silly offer, maybe, but it is nice and Jason will never understand why you try to hard to make him feel better, even when he thinks he doesn't deserve it. But, he does know, he is thankful for you anyway,

"That's how you wanna spend your precious time off?" Jason's voice is rough this time but it doesn't crack.

"With you and like twenty kittens? Yes." You nod quickly. "And I think you need it, anyway." Your smile falls into something comforting and honest. It feels like home. "Hanging out with animals is good for your mental health."

"Really?" Jason raises a brow at you.

"Oh, are you gonna tell me you're not beating yourself up and thinking you're the worst? You're not. I think you're the best but I know you well enough to know you don't think so when something happens." You suck in a breath, your hands sliding over his knees a few times. "So, we go hang out with some kittens and you'll feel a little better to tell me what happened and then I'll tell you that you still did your best."

"How do you even know that?" Jason scoffs, dodging your eyes again as the guilt starts pulling on his vocal cords.

"Because you always try your best." You answer simply. "It's not always easy, Jay and it's not always gonna work out. But, you always try and that's enough." You place your hand on his cheek, getting him to look at you. "So, what'd ya say?" The corner of your mouth perks up into a gentle and hopeful smile.

The last thing he wants to do is disappoint you, let someone else down. But, he also knows, deep down, that you do it because you care and you really believe everything you tell him. All you want to do is be there for him and maybe it does take some of the weight off of his shoulders. When he's carrying the world, you stand under it with him. And when he's taking a hammer to his own heart, you yank the hammer away and swap it out with glue, helping him put it back together. And on nights like tonight, he's not sure where he'd up if it weren't for you.

Jason nods softly, taking your hand in his. "Yeah, alright, thanks." Jason leans closer, resting his forehead against yours.

"Of course, Jay." You press a quick kiss to his nose. "Now, come on, lemme help you." You get to your feet and offer your hands to help Jason up.

He shakes his head, his chest still feeling heavy but knowing you'll always be here makes things easier. So, he sticks out of his own hands and encompasses yours in his before he stands up.

Tag list: @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @dgraysonsss // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @vivian-555 // @kebonita // @deyja-the-duckk// @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000 // @septixtrash // @kplatzman // @killxz

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction #requests #request

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strong-with-the-sarcasm · 1 year ago

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DP x DC AU idea:

Regent!Jazz

Having been ecto-contaminated since conception, Jazz is the most Liminal being in the world, which has her develop a proto-core. As in, death has about 30% claim on Jazz and every year it grows stronger the longer she lives above the portal.

Can Jazz walk through walls, disappear and fly? Sorta, occasionally, and no. It depends on how much Ecto she has in her system, otherwise she’s just got her inherent strength.

Jazz inherited the Fenton Law Loophole tendency.

She swaps out her psychology books for books on Realms Law, spends a week locked in her room with them in fact. It concerns Danny and co., because what is Jazz up to?

Jazz claims regency thanks to three factors:

1: Danny unconsciously views her as a third parent thanks to her raising him in a neglected household. She got him to fourteen before she looked away for a minute, ok?

2: Danny is a minor in both human and ghost culture, therefore he’s baby and needs time to grow up without bearing kingly responsibilities, right?

3: As mentioned before, Jazz is the most Liminal being in the modern age, with a slowly developing proto-core. This allows her to be able to not only survive the Infinite Realms on a long-term basis, but able to step up as Regent at all.

————

Sam and Tucker, while Liminal too (thanks to them getting flooded with it with Danny’s death) still have a ways to go in terms of contamination- give it a few more years in Amity Park and they’ll start to show more symptoms of death-claimed, though they’ll never be able to surpass Jazz. Not even Jack and Maddie Fenton could ever say that, considering they wear Hazmat suits daily that has limited exposure, but were also adults when first contaminated- the ecto would take a lot longer to bond to adult molecules than that of a just-conceived child.

Maybe Jazz even leeched off some of Maddie’s contamination in the womb? Whose to say.

Where does DC come in?

Perhaps the vivisection route? It’s a tried and true method of getting Danny to Gotham, but I raise you- Jazz essentially “kidnaps” Danny, taking him away from his haunt once she is Regent.

Gotham is a city drenched, drowning, in tragedy and therefore natural ectoplasm for a powerful Liminal and Halfa to survive on.

Lady Gotham welcomes the two eagerly into her city and directs Jazz to the soon-to-form Lazarus pit- corrupted ectoplasm, but nothing Danny can’t filter out with time, it’ll heal him and whatever happened to his core after being ripped away from his haunt.

It does cause a rift to form between the two, but Jazz is firm in staying in Gotham. Right on the edge of Crime Alley to be specific.

Here we can slide in Vigilante!Jazz, who is pissed off at the world and needs to work out some excess energy. Enhanced bone density means that Jazz doesn’t have to worry about screwing up her knees with a few ‘superhero landings’.

Liminalality means that she can sense the weird guy in the Red Hood whose territory she keeps crossing into while beating the crap out of some criminals and escorting the night workers home.

Revenant!Jason…

….possible Anger Management/Hardcover pairing?

[Im thinking about continuing this, but idk. I do have like a page written out with Regent!Jazz]

Masterlist

#dp x dc #jazz fenton #jason todd #danny phantom #dp x dc au #I want an anger management ship so badly

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fluentmoviequoter · 1 year ago

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DC Comics

Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Hal Jordan (+ Wally West, Razer - no fics yet)

Character only fics are linked at the bottom!

Dick Grayson x fem!reader

One More Favor (Titans!Dick Grayson)

5k+ words | angst to fluff | When Dick takes Rachel out of Detroit, he needs help, but he'll have to call in a few favors first.

Honeymoon Suite

2.6k+ words | fluff | Batman sends you and Dick undercover as newlyweds. At the end of the mission, neither of you want things to change.

Bang, Baby

5.5k+ words | angst-ish to fluff | metahuman!reader | After you move to Dakota City from Gotham, you find yourself dealing with metahumans and vigilantes yet again. Dick Grayson comes to check on you after an explosion and gets a surprising glimpse into your mind.

Jason Todd x fem!reader

The Man Under the Hood

2.3k+ words | angst to fluff | After a terrifying encounter with Red Hood, Jason is left to pick up the pieces.

Love, The Man Under the Hood 1.8k+ words | angst to fluff | After learning that Jason Todd is the Red Hood, he tells you everything.

Wintery

1.5k words | fluff | Gotham winters are brutal, but your best friend Jason Todd and work friend Red Hood know how to combat the cold. Unfortunately, you're falling in love with both of them.

Lost Time

1.3k+ words | fluff | Jason comes home to you, his wife, after a mission and makes up for lost time.

For My Husband

1.5k+ words | fluff | Jason has had a lot on his mind, including your relationship. You call him your husband on a night out and suddenly everything makes sense.

Comfort and Space

2.4k+ words | angst to fluff | After Jason has a fight with Bruce, Dick knows exactly what he needs. You.

Where I'll Follow

2.5k+ words | angst | You follow your best friend to Bosnia, learn his secrets, share your own, and promise that wherever he goes, that's where you'll follow.

Truth Without the Lasso

1.9k+ words | fluff | powered!reader | You're Wonder Woman's protégé and adopted daughter. Jason Todd admits that you look familiar, and you tell him secrets the gods have kept for your entire life.

Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

Family Name

6.6k+ words | angst to fluff | ex-Army/SWAT!reader | After ten years away, you return to Gotham. When you discover you know the true identity of the Joker, you join Batman's fight to save Gotham.

Crushes Aren't Just for Kids

3.1k+ words | fluff | JLU Batman x JL!reader | When all adults are banished from earth, you join Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Green Lantern in a unique fight to save the world. Along the way, some hidden feelings are revealed.

Butterflies Aren't Just for Kids 1.6k+ words | fluff | Bruce hasn't asked you out yet, despite the League's interest in your new relationship. When he finally has enough and takes you away from their prying eyes and endless questions, you tell him why you hid your feelings for so long.

Black Mercy

2.3k+ words | angst to fluff | JLU Batman x JL!reader | When you and Bruce find Superman in the Fortress of Solitude, you encounter the Black Mercy. Bruce faces his heart's greatest desire, and you encourage him to find happiness.

What You Want

2.9k+ words | angst / hurt/comfort | You are Joker's daughter, and you let him think for you. Bruce Wayne, however, sees who you really are and encourages you to be better.

Bats Need Lives Too

2.1k+ words | fluff/comfort | Bruce and the boys have bad days, and as their mom, it's your job to make them better.

Flirty

2.7k+ words | fluff | Your husband Bruce never stops flirting with you, and everyone, in Gotham and beyond, knows it.

Rumors

2.5k+ words | fluff | Gotham has shared rumors about you and Bruce for years, and Bruce finally decides to do something about them.

Hal Jordan x fem!reader

Me or the Ring

3.5k+ words | angst | When the Guardians suspect you, a woman from earth, of working with the Star Sapphires to commit mass murder, Hal Jordan volunteers to find evidence. He accidentally falls for you in the process, but you find out why he let you get so close and pull away.

Me and the Ring 2.9k+ words | angst to fluff | After Hal broke your heart and failed his mission, the Guardians send Kyle to pick up where he left off. You can't trust Hal, but that doesn't mean you don't love him.

Characters Only (no reader insert)

The Love They Deserve

1.6k+ words | Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne comfort | Dick Grayson is touch-starved but unable and unwilling to ask for the contact he needs. When he has a nightmare in Wayne Manor, Bruce decides to give all of his family the love they deserve.

As One

3.6k+ words | Venom!Jason Todd angst to fluff (minor x reader portion) | Jason receives more than life in the Lazarus Pit, and when he returns to Gotham and meets Venom, they must learn to fight as one.

/ Blurbs/Celebration Fics

Christmas '23 | Dick (Haley's Holiday)(A League Christmas) | Jason (Special Edition)

#fluentmoviequoter #masterlist #navigation #dc comics #dc comics x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #hal jordan x reader #bruce wayne x reader #jlu!bruce wayne x reader

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froot-batty · 9 months ago

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Part 3

Remember how I said Alexis eventually quits being Punchline? This is how it happens!

Her wanting to quit is a buildup of a lot of thoughts and feelings over a long amount of time. She's treated terribly by the Joker and Harley Quinn, has been thrown in Arkham countless times, and the only people who are nice to her are either still more loyal to her mother or is the person throwing her in Arkham

One night, when Joker, Harley, and Punch were all rigging a toy factory with explosives, J&H made the decision to set off the bombs early without informing Punchline. As such, they were far closer to the exit than she was when they went off. Alex was hit by a stray fragment of a wooden beam during the blast, and by the time she was able to force herself to her feet, the fire caused by the explosion was raging around her

The only thing she could see through the flames was the dark shape of the Batman

But, instead of whisking her off to Arkham like she'd expected, he offered to take her somewhere safe and secure where she could recover. Where she could think of her path forward. After being left to die, it wasn't fair for her to be left to rot in Arkham again

So Batman took her to the Batcave. He has a secure medical bay with no access to the rest of the cave (unless you know the way in), so she could be left there to hide out while she grappled with her Punchline identity (and with the hole in her stomach)

Because Alexis didn't want to be Punchline anymore. In fact, she hated her mother and Harley Quinn, and wanted nothing in the world more than to kill them like they'd tried to do to her. But she had no idea who she was if she wasn't in her mother's shadow, doing what the Joker wanted when she wanted it. She had no idea what to do with all of her anger

Bruce, luckily, is very well-versed into dealing with that. And since Alexis already had the experience of being a supervillain, he had little qualms with redirecting her anger and desire for justice into vigilantism. If it kept her from going out and killing people, and helped him out in the process, then no harm done, right?

...Except it didn't work out. Though they had no problem training and even getting closer with one another (enough so that Batman would eventually reveal his identity), Alexis had enough of living in someone else's shadow; being what they wanted her to be. And she didn't want to be a hero. She had her own idea of dealing with crime - or even people that just needed to die

Alexis would eventually settle into a life of doing jobs for money, cause a girl's still got to be paid. She tends to only take ones that directly harm established criminals or terrible people in general (abusers, CEOs, and the like), but on occasion, when it suits her, she'll help Bruce out or go and capture one of the Rogues herself

And she does it all smugly calling herself the Red Hood, her mother's old moniker, from the beginning of her criminal career

#surpriiiissse shawwwtyy #also! for timeline reference cause i know i started this one after spoiler's! punchline becomes red hood before spoiler is ever a thing #frootverse #alexis kaye #the red hood #bruce wayne #batman #batfamily #my art

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klbwriting · 10 months ago

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Broken Prism

Chapter 20

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Warnings: mentions of murder and blood

Summary: Jason is revealed to be alive by Bruce, who throws him a welcome home party so Jason can become a normal person again, but things end badly

With the death of Joker, and the press finding out it was Red Hood who had committed the murder, all of Gotham was essentially at Jason’s feet. You saw people walking around with homemade shirts, pins, backpacks, all with the helmet on them. People were saying he was better than Batman, who never could do the job right. He was a hero to most, but to the criminals of the city he was a terrifying entity, capable of taking out a truly legendary villain. It was making your job easier, so many informants were willing to roll over to you whenever you came knocking just so you wouldn’t send Red Hood after them later. Every time you got far enough away from whoever you were getting information from you would laugh at the idea of Jason running around doing your bidding. He had enough to deal with running his section of Gotham and coming back to the world of the living.

As you walked past an electronics store, snow starting to fall, you saw yet another newscaster hailing the return of Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne’s long-lost son who was kidnapped as a teenager, seemed to escape his captors only to spend years with amnesia before finally realizing who he was and returning home to his father. It was hilarious and you once again mentally thanked Dick for the amnesia storyline. It had taken months of convincing, but Bruce finally wore Jason down by asking him if the only dates he was going to take you on were to the theater room in the mansion and Jason realized once he showed his face again without the mask on someone who figure out who he was. It was really a brilliant marketing tactic and Jason had rolled over to your ‘pretty please’ eyes like he normally did. You just wanted him to be able to meet your friends, they were getting on your nerves asking about how you were able to move into the Wayne manor. Once you mentioned that they thought you were sleeping with Bruce Jason was willing to do anything to end that rumor.

The snow was getting heavier when you arrived at the diner your friends were waiting at. You slid into the booth with Jocelyn and Aura who immediately asked where Jason was. You smiled a little and shrugged.

“I was working, he’s meeting me here after a suit fitting for his welcome home party this weekend,” you said. They gushed about their excitement at having received invitations to the party.

“Are you alright with all this though?” Jocelyn asked suddenly. You frowned, not sure what she meant. “Well, you were so sure that Robin was alive again, that he was still your soulmate. Have you given up on that?” You smiled, having expected this kind of question at some point, just not right away.

“Ya, I don’t need a soulmate when I have Jason, he’s absolutely the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” you said, smiling wide. It wasn’t a complete lie, so you only felt a little guilty. The bell over the door chimed and you looked back, smile getting bigger as Jason walked in, looking like an absolute vision. He was so much lighter now, he still had moments of doubt, wasn’t always happy, but the nightmares were gone, and the extra sleep helped him handle his depression and anxiety better and it showed. He smiled at the sight of you getting up and walking over to him. He gripped you close and kissed your head, arm staying around your shoulders as you walked him to the booth and climbed back in. He sat on the outside, eyes darting around, and you knew he was surveying the entrances and exits.

“You must be Jason Todd,” Aura said, staring intently at him. “I’m Aura, this is Jocelyn and I have to know…what are your intentions with our friend here? Are you looking for just a quick hookup or are you really in with her? Your answer may be the difference between life and death so choose wisely.” You rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. Jason was unfazed, looking at you.

“O I’m all in, she knows that,” he said, winking at you. You nearly melted and from the looks your friends had they were melting too. “Did you all order or are we still waiting?”

Dinner went well and as they walked away you looked at Jason. He looked like he was thinking, eyeing the sky a little bit. It was getting dark early now, December was really setting in, and he was probably trying to figure out if he should start patrolling early or not.

“I can call Alfred to come get me,” you said, not wanting to inconvenience him. He was, after all, more famous than Batman now. He looked at you and then at the city one more time before shaking his head.

“Nah, I’ll get you home babe, don’t want you waiting for the geezer in the cold,” he said, arm going around you again. “So, they were nice, and very excitable.” You nodded. “It's just the party, even I’m excited for a fancy Wayne manor party to welcome you back, since you just returned three months ago,” you said. Jason snorted out a laugh and you joined him. It seemed like yesterday, but a year had passed since he had come back, since you ran into him, and everything started to get weird and wonderful. He got to his bike, handing you the helmet and letting you drive.

“It’s not great road conditions, so be careful on the turns,” he said. He had been teaching you for a couple weeks now how to drive the bike in case you ever needed to help him out of a tough spot and didn’t have one of Bruce’s cars available. You nodded and climbed on the bike. Jason looked around while you got comfy and noticed someone walking down the street in the brightest pink suit he had ever seen. He made a ‘huh’ noise and pointed the guy out to you.

“Good for them, that is an interesting look, hope it works for them,” you said, patting the seat behind you for him to get on. Neither of you had noticed the scalpel the man was flipping around in his hand as he walked down the street.

Jason hated Wayne parties, even when he was a kid. You had to dress up in a ridiculous suit, talk to people you hated about things that were stupid, and the food was too pretentious to be good. He hoped Bruce had at least taken his advice to have Alfred make sliders, those things were amazing and may save this whole endeavor. As he still on his suit jacket Jason considered jumping out the window and running for it. Maybe he could hide at one of the safehouses Bruce didn’t know about for the night. Then the door to the bathroom opened and YN came out and suddenly Jason couldn’t imagine why he had wanted to leave. She looked beautiful, dress stunning on her form, hair hanging loose around her shoulders and her face enhanced by the makeup she wore. Those eyes that still haunted his dreams standing out above everything else. He turned and went to her, kissing her deeply.

“Let’s skip the party,” he said, kissing her again. She growled and pushed him back gently.

“I swear if you messed up my lipstick,” she said with a smile, going to check her face out again.

“O please, I want to mess up all of that, but you’d enjoy it I promise,” he said. She blushed and he chuckled, glad he still had that effect on her. She fixed the little damage he had done, looking to him.

“Do you want to wipe your mouth off? You look like you have lipstick on too,” she said, and Jason checked the mirror. He did but he didn’t mind.

“Nah, let everyone know I’m wearing your lipstick,” he said, offering his arm to her. She took it and they headed down to the slowly filling up first floor of the manor. Bruce was by the door greeting guests and threw Jason a look that he knew well. He was late for his responsibilities again. He pecked YN’s lips again before going over to do his job. He saw YN go off to the parlor to see her friends who were there.

Getting through the introduction line was a slog but finally he was released to mingle, which meant he would speak to Dick, Tim, Barbara, or YN. They would at least act like he was a person and not a sideshow attraction. Come see everyone dead boy zombie in the main hall! He took a breath, pushing past a couple speaking with the Cane’s before joining Dick and Barbara by the fireplace.

“How much longer until I can pretend the party is overwhelming my delicate state?” he snarked, quoting a news program from last week that said he was nearly an invalid. Dick chuckled and patted his back.

“Give it another half hour and I will personally make a scene with you. You can faint, do a somersault, I’ll catch you and whirl you upstairs while declaring that you have the vapors and need smelling salts,” he said. Jason nodded.

“I appreciate that,” he said. “Where did YN get to?” Dick shrugged.

“I saw her and her friends in the TV room just a little bit ago…” Barbara said, then pointed, waving for YN to come over. She looked upset.

“You guys need to see this,” she whispered, leading the three of them into the TV room where the news was running. On screen was a photo that was blurred, but you could assume was a dead body. Then the camera panned, showing 3 more bodies, a family at their dining table. On the wall behind them in blood it said:

COME FIND ME RED HOOD.

#jasontodd #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #redhood #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #brokenprism

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purple-crusader · 2 months ago

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Stephcass Week day 6 is up! Today we deep dive into some fun stuff, which is my take on Cassie's problem with finding identity beside her vigilante persona. Like I said, very fun. It's focused on Steph and Cass' free time as civilians, so I think it fits the prompt, even if they are still vigilantes on the side.

Hope you like it!

STEPHCASS WEEK Day 6: Civilians

Words: 1,188

@stephcassweek

You know things got fucked up, when Cassandra Cain, Black Bat, the daughter of two of the deadliest assassins on Earth, Lady Shiva and David Cain, as well as trained from birth to be a living killing machine, comes back from a fight with a broken arm.

Bane returned to Gotham, with the most powerful version of Venom created yet in his veins and decided the best people to celebrate that occasion with are his friends from the local crime-fighting family. When Batman and Robin realized they could not defeat the man alone, they had to call for reinforcements, those being Red Robin, Nightwing, Red Hood, Batwing, Batwoman and aformentioned Black Bat. It took around an hour of non-stop, brutal fighting and crashing most of the Gotham docks to finally put down the villain, but they managed to do it.

One of the factors in defeating him sadly being Cassandra's sacrifice by pushing away Damian from Bane's hit. She exposed herself, which gave the rest time to gather around the man and finally tie him down and inject an anti-Venom into his veins. Before that happened though, the hit landed on Cass' arm, breaking it and making her unconscious.

Fast forward 4 hours later, Cassandra woke up in the Bat-Cave's med-bay with Alfred and Bruce by her side, telling her what happened. "Your arm is broken in 6 different spots, Madame Cassandra. Recovering from that will take months..." Said Alfred. "I'm sorry, young lady, but in this time we need to put you off your vigilante activities."

It was the first time Cass had to hear those words during her vigilante career. She had never taken enough damage to get benched. Hell, she had never even caught a cold. Her training wouldn't allow it, but Cassandra herself was always incredibely careful with all of her moves, because she knew how much Gotham and her family needs her in the field. Now she's supposted to take a few months long break from that life? She did not answer any of Bruce or Alfred's further questions, just sat on the bed numbly.

For Cass it was like a death penalty, but someone took the news as an opportunity for good, this 'someone' being one and only Stephanie Brown, Cassandra's lovely girlfriend. It's not like she did not feel the pain her partner was experiencing, but she also thought that the dark-haired woman sooner or later needed a vacation and she did not want to wait for their honeymoon for that to happen (and even then Cass would probably pack her suit and change into it the moment she saw a kitten not able to get off a tree).

Cass was advised by Bruce to spend the next four months living in Stephanie's apartment, to be a bit further from the vigilante activity that she would be at home. It lined up perfectly with various activities Steph had planned for them to fill Cass' time during her treatment.

Besides vigilantism, Cassandra was taking online private classes to broaden her opportunities if she wanted to take on a job and generally were supposted to teach her more about the world. These taken up to five hours daily for her. Besides that? She was all free. Usually she'd spent the rest of that time training, working on cases, sleeping, so that she could then have no problem running around on patrols all night. Of course she also always tried to find time to spend with Stephanie, besides when they were cracking a case or playing rooftop tag, so it's not like she had no idea what to do in her free time. That didn't mean the first few days weren't rough for her.

That's where Stephanie came in. The activities she had prepared were generally stuff to bond over or use some skills for. It was stuff like learning to bake new things together, going on walks to the park, the library, the museum. Steph would love to teach Cass more about knitting (a little hobby of hers) but it was definitely hard with her broken hand. She loved to watch though. For lazier nights, Steph would put one of the films or TV shows on the long list she had prepared for her girlfriend to watch one day to be up to date with the pop culture.

And Cassandra absolutely loved all of these things and was really grateful how involved her partner was in making this time better for her. But she could not shake off the feeling that she should be out there, helping people, that she was... wasting time? No, Cass would never say that about time spent with Steph. Yet the feeling was still there.

Something almost broke when the women went on a quiet date in a local coffee shop. It did not end up as quiet as they wanted, when they saw Duke and Bruce drop into park across the street, fighting Mr. Freeze. They did not need help, so Steph was not running to change into her Batgirl suit. It was tempting to Cass. She got up and almost ran out of the shop, when Steph grabbed her healthy hand.

"What are you doing?!" She said quietly but firmly, for it to get to Cass' head. The woman was looking outside the window, as she saw the two vigilantes and the villain leave the park and her sight. She sat back with tears in her eyes. Steph was immediately alarmed. She slided over her chair to seat closer to Cass and hugged her, the dark-haired woman laying her head on the blonde's shoulder.

"I'm sorry." Cass finally raised her eyes to look at Stephanie. "I just- I'm... I love what you do for me." She said taking on of Steph's hands and caressing it. "But I miss this. I can't fight this feeling. I feel so useless... when I can't be out there." More tears rolled down her cheeks.

Steph felt pity for her girlfriend and wasn't really shocked. Cass was made for fighting. First as David Cain's weapon, then she forged it into her mission to help people of Gotham. She was never benched this long and it definitely made her undergo a little identity crisis. But what was Stephanie for, if not going through it with Cassandra?

"Listen, babe, it's okay you feel this way. I'm not mad, I know you have good intentions, but I need you to know, that you are someone bigger than just Black Bat. You are Cassandra Cain, a talented dancer, loving daughter, sister, friend and partner. You are your own person." Steph smiled fondly and kissed Cass on the forehead. She smiled as well.

It got kinda better for Cass after that. Sure, the need to come back to being a vigilante was tingling. But she knew it would come back to her soon. Right now, she had time to pursue things she never thought about before and she wanted to cherish that. Well, maybe even after coming back on the field, she could make some changes to her schedule. To find a moment for Cassandra Cain.

#stephcass week tag #stephcass week #stephcass week 2024 #stephcass #stephanie brown x cassandra cain #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #batgirls #black bat #spoiler #batgirl #alfred pennyworth #many people are mentioned in this one #but ig bruce and bane are the most prominent mentions #dc comics #dc #dc universe #writers on tumblr

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halfagone · 1 year ago

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You know, that recent post with more thoughts on bio mom!Selina has given me an idea. Because Bruce and Selina, in one version of canon, have a daughter. Helena. Huntress. Consider: Another twins au, but with Danny and Helena instead

You have activated my DC knowledge, and I hope you know that >:3

Helena's character is a little more complicated and I am here to ramble about that before I get to the meat of this ask. There is a universe where Helena grew up to become Batwoman, not Huntress. And that is because she was raised by her parents and didn't get separated. But since you specifically mentioned Huntress, I'll try to stick with that one.

For anyone that doesn't know this part of DC comics that well, something you should know is that there are two Huntresses. Helena Bertinelli and Helena "Bertinelli", otherwise known as Helena Wayne. In the New Earth and Prime Earth comic series, their version of Huntress is the real Helena Bertinelli, whose family was a part of the mafioso and she was dubbed a "mafia princess".

But then, there's Earth 2, where Helena Wayne was actually Robin before being sent to another universe alongside Kara (more specifically, Power Girl) and ended up taking the alias of Helena Bertinelli, who had existed in this world but had been missing/presumed dead.

So where does that leave us? [Added a Keep Reading because this got long lol]

Since you specifically addressed Helena as Huntress, I'm going to be using this comic run:

You could probably write a story about how Danny finally finds Helena again and the two reunite, thus revealing that Helena had lied to almost everyone and she was indeed Helena Wayne once upon a time. And this of course would lead to revelations and heart-to-heart discussions about Bruce and Selina's relationship and what kind of parents they were. I like to imagine that when Danny reunited with his family for whatever reason that separated them, Danny becomes Robin as well. So there are two Robins stalking the streets and scaring the living daylights out of criminals.

However... if you wanted to make things a little more interesting, we could take this version of the comic and take it for a little spin.

In the original canon, Helena has already operated as Huntress for years before Damian figured out the deception. She's already an adult, and largely on her own.

But in this case, we can make Helena freshly from the other universe. Lost and unsure and all on her own. Enter Batfamily. The moment they get her in their sights they realize that oh, she's Bruce's kid from another world/timeline/whatever their first assumption is. And then, when they get her to open up, she reveals that she has a twin. Bruce is Unwell at the information and Helena is inconsolable because they only just got him back, and now they've lost her. Her parents are never going to let her out of the house again after this!!

Meanwhile, Danny is losing his mind and their parents are trying to do everything to get her back and it's a whole mess.

If you want to make things a little more interesting, you could make Danny and Helena the only Wayne children, so that when she goes to the other universe she's super taken aback by how many siblings she could've had and "isn't that our neighbor Tim? Tim Drake? Danny's bestest friend ever? What are you doing in that egghead suit, Danny would be appalled to see you dressed like that."

Something I will have to say is that we probably don't get a lot of AUs like this because the rest of the Batfamily would probably be adults and there's a rather large age gap between Damian (as the youngest) and Helena + Danny, in this case. Unless you have them from another world, of course.

Think... Batman Beyond, with Terry McGinnis. It's an amazing series, but pretty much all of the main characters that the fandom typically writes about are retired. There is no Nightwing or Red Hood or Red Robin. Damian is alive but he's back with the League of Assassins. Let's not talk about how Tim and Barbara are married.

I think this AU could be really fun, and I'd be interested in trying it out some day. But it is one of the trickier instances. But no less exciting because of it. ;3

#halfagone replies #dpxdc

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happysyn · 1 year ago

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Thinking about a reverse robins au where...

Talia leaves Damian, age 8, with Bruce due to infighting in the League of Assassins. Damian is Batman's Shadow until he and Bruce have a falling out over Bruce refusing to admit the Teen Titans to the League. Damian, age 18, takes on the name Nightwing and moves to New York to lead the Titans with Jon.

When Arthur Brown is killed, Crystal overdoses and Stephanie, age 12, becomes Spoiler to avenge her parents. Tim, age 11, sees her while stalking Batman and provides her with pictures and intel under the alias Shutter. Bruce catches them one night, and Tim blackmails him into mentoring them.

When Bruce realizes Stephanie is living on the street, he decides to adopt her. Jack and Janet are their typical absentee selves, so Tim's adoption remains unofficial. Damian, age 19, resents Tim and Stephanie so much that he refuses to let them train with the Titans.

The Joker kidnaps Tim, age 14, while he's on patrol and turns him into Joker Jr. Steph, age 15, goes solo to save him and Joker makes Tim beat her with a crowbar, then locks them in the warehouse with a bomb. Stephanie dies trying to save Tim, then is resurrected and taken by Talia al Ghul, who wants to use her as leverage to win Bruce and Damian back.

Tim, now paralyzed, becomes the Oracle, saying that there's no Shutter without Spoiler. Unbeknownst to anyone, he gets to work trying to clone Stephanie.

Damian, age 23, blames himself for Stephanie's death and moves back to Gotham. While hunting the Joker, Nightwing runs into Jason, age 13, who's working for Two Face. He finds out that Jason is trying to support his family - Catherine is still battling her drug addiction and Willis was left wheelchair-bound after working for Two-Face. When Damian looks at Jason, he sees another desperate teenager that he failed, and he's determined not to make the same mistakes again. He takes Jason under his wing, training (and paying) him to fight against crime rather than for it. Jason takes on the mantle of Michael (he is going to be the guardian angel of Crime Alley. He's going to defend them from every threat.)

Tim, age 15, finds out about Jason and comes as close to a villain origin story as he gets. He thinks that Damian is trying to replace Steph, and accuses him of grooming another martyr to die for Gotham. When Damian won't back down, Tim insists on being included in Jason's training and swears to pull the plug the *second* he thinks Damian is putting Jason in undue danger. Training Jason together gives Damian and Tim the common goal they need to build a functional relationship for the first time.

Stephanie, age 19, comes back to Gotham as the Red Hood to kill the Joker, only to find that he's been missing for years. Still, she's plenty annoyed with the new street kid who's stolen her place. (Damian wouldn't even LOOK at her, but he'll take this stupid kid to a baseball game? With Tim?)

She and Batman dance their dance for a few months, then she finds out that Jason isn't an orphan. That Bruce paid for rehab so his mom could get clean, then found his dad a job so they could move somewhere safe. And it's just... Where was Bruce before? Where was he when her mom overdosed? When her dad was killed? Where was he when Tim was taken and twisted, when he was beating her to death for that fucking clown, when she tried to shield him from the blast even as he was strangling her? Where was Bruce then?

Red Hood kidnaps Catherine and lures Jason, age 16, to the warehouse where the Joker killed her. She reveals his secret identity to Catherine, then beats the brakes off of him.(In another world, Sheila Haywood smoked a cigarette while Jason was beaten. In this one, Catherine Todd begs for his life.) There's a bomb because there always is. Because there has to be.

Batman isn't too late. He saves Jason and Catherine, but Hood gets away. Catherine begs Jason to hang up his suit, but Willis stops her. He tells Jason that he's proud of him, and glad that he's chosen a better path than Willis had.

Nightwing, age 26, hunts down the Red Hood while Oracle, age 18, puts together the pieces of her identity. Nightwing catches up to Hood her in one of her safe houses and has a very dramatic monologue, as a treat. ("The last person who left my siblings trapped with a bomb thought it was funny, too. But he wasn't laughing when I was done with him. I wonder if you'll have that same look on your face when I kill you.") He nearly kills her, but is stopped by Oracle.

Tim drags Stephanie back home kicking and screaming. After months of therapy, healing, and screaming at Bruce, she allows herself to be brought back into the fold. She and Jason will never be friends, but they've made amends enough to coexist. Stephanie takes up the Spoiler mantle again.

To celebrate, the family goes to Haly's Circus. The Grayson's die, and Bruce takes in Dick, age 9. Dick discovers their secret identities and dubs himself Robin. He's an angry little gremlin determined to murder Zucco, and Bruce feels like he's been here before a few times already.

Later, there's a rumor of another Spoiler running around. Stephanie, age 22, is not prepared to find tiny Barbara Gordon, age 10, running around by herself, trying to catch bad guys. She starts chasing Barbara around, trying to talk her out of heroics. ("Is this how Bruce felt? Oh, hell, I'm too young to be a mother.") She finally relents and starts training Barbara herself. ("But you can't steal my name, kid. Gotta come up with your own." "Fine. I'll be Batgirl, then." "Batgirl, huh? Alright, let's see if you can live up to it.")

I'm just so 😩 about them

#reverse robins #can you tell that im obsessed?#dc #batman #bruce wayne #damian wayne #tim drake #stephanie brown #jason todd #dick grayson #barbara gordon

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syn4k · 1 year ago

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my design notes for the mianite s2 cast (put under a cut because Long + mentions of s/h at one point):

in general i think that those who've lived in town the longest (especially Tucker and Sonja) are the ones whose clothing has been most affected by the world and era's fashion. they kind of look like they come from the 1800s and of course the other two champions bully them relentlessly for it but i like to think that tom exchanged the button up under his suit blazer for one of those ruffle front shirts because he liked how it looks, essentially making him look like the world's most genre and time-bending wizard ever, especially with the hat.

jordan

after really getting into the various engineering/mechanics/technical mods and getting shocked/burnt/etc enough times, he finally exchanged his basketball shorts for some reinforced knee pants and a plain white t-shirt with one of those pockets on the front, although nobody ever really sees it because he's wearing crazy armor most of the time.

wears steel-toed boots when working on technical stuff and sneakers the rest of the time

3 billion pockets with random shit in it (cool rocks, random trinkets, etc)

looks Absolutely Insane in the best way. none of his outfit actually fits together but somehow he makes it work

waglington

so a quick sidenote. i know he has a skin and everything however in my brain all of the wizards look like some variation of this:

(essentially "little guys who live in assorted hats due to being cursed by the gods after their hubris was revealed.")

however! this does not stop me from adding little details where i want, such as:

in s1, wag was basically confined to a wizard hat due to the restrictions of the world he was in. in s2 this is no longer the case and he has acquired many hats all with their own enchantments (though 90% of the ones he wears regularly are really durable).

this makes it look really fucking funny whenever he's doing Anything because when hes flying around you just see a hat holding a regular sized sword. when hes doing magic you see a hat in the middle of a firestorm or whatever. during the Purge he can sneak up on people really easily due to essentially being a hat. nobody has ever seen what lives under the hat and nobody has ever successfully tried to look inside without being killed

he's applied various odds and ends to his hats as the season goes on! (i.e patches, mends, embroidered runes and sigils). all rings and items are kept on his person, but it's generally accepted amongst the rest of the champions that his inventory space is located within the hat itself

sonja

out of all of the champions, she absolutely looks the coolest. everyone looks like losers next to her no matter what the situation is. eyeliner on point, has a fuckin Flying Orb She Balances On, you know the deal

has actual fox ears! this is only visible when the hood of her hoodie is back, though, which she doesn't do often except for when working on magic stuff for better visibility

pink everything if she can manage it <3 she has a theme and she sticks to it

tom

found one of those ruffle front button up shirts and wears it with his usual suit outfit. steve found him a green bow tie to wear with it so it still works!

likes to float around and do flips in the air and go all sorts of angles while flying. it is Very Distracting but he's having fun with it so who cares

engineered his hammer- sorry, wang- to look exactly like an upside down dick and balls while it's being used. he thinks this is the funniest thing ever and honestly it kind of is

tucker

(self-harm mention here!)

very pale and with constant eyebags and red eyes/pupils from working with blood magic

arms absolutely covered in cutting scars, also from working with blood magic

wears his ash ketchum cap on top of his crazy strong fantasy ass looking armor which frankly looks fucking stupid but he does not care

steve

tons of old scars, both from being a former fighter and a farmer

still wears farmer's clothing but don't be fooled, he Knows how to use the sword at his side

australian flag patch on his sleeve and as a sticker on his chestplate

very casual practiced movements despite his apparent age, even when doing kickass shit

martha

light purple eyes. makes her look like she's blind. she is not

transfem swag for YEARS

just as much at home in fighting gear as she is in a skirt!

andor

has long hair but keeps it up in a bun under his wooden helmet (that's why he always wears it) (yes hes also transgender)

can i just say that i love the fingerless gloves. that was an awesome design choice. the designers knew what they were doing with that one

#ray's tag #mcyt #mianite #undescribed #s/h mention

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chosetherose · 1 year ago

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FULL ARTICLE:

WHEN TRAVIS KELCE was a young man, his college football coach pulled him aside one day and told him the secret of life: Everybody you meet in this world is either a fountain or a drain.

“I need fountains,” the coach growled at Kelce. “I don’t need f—ing drains. Travis, you’re f—ing draaaining me!”

The advice left a deep impression. (“Changed his life,” says one of Kelce’s closest friends.) Yes, Kelce thought—you’re either a giver of the basic wellsprings of life or a thirsty taker. He vowed to be the former. In a world of gutters, be a geyser.

You think about that story as Kelce drives you around his beloved Kansas City, home of his world-champion Chiefs, for whom he’s the star tight end and arguably the second-most popular player, after his best friend, quarterback Patrick Mahomes. You think about that story on a gorgeous autumn afternoon as Kelce gives you a personal tour of his decadelong history in this city, his singular journey from clueless rook to legend. (“I used to take this scenic route [to the stadium]—there’s just something about seeing the city you’re about to go represent….”)

You can’t help thinking about that fountain story, not only because Kelce’s custom-made Rolls-Royce looks like a font of glowing light, not only because its silver goddess hood ornament is a burbling spigot of mercury. You think about that story because, as Kelce stops at a red light, as shirtless guys begin shambling toward the Rolls, apparently intent on opening the doors, getting an autograph, maybe even catching a ride, Kelce doesn’t seem the least bit alarmed. He’s smiling, waving, honking, even chuckling at a fan who leaps off the curb and “hits the stanky leg,” a dance Kelce has been known to bust out after a touchdown. At one point Kelce rolls down the window and exchanges hellos with some guy heedlessly reversing his rig into oncoming traffic, just so he can pull alongside Kelce and give a thumbs-up.

A different sort of celebrity might be more guarded, might even chirp those big Rolls tires and speed away before someone throws their body across the luminous silver bonnet, but Kelce’s default emotion is this—exuberant extroversion. He likes people. Loves people. Never mind deciding not to be a drain. If people gush at him, he can’t help it, he gushes back.

Noting all this, you think how fame itself might be a kind of fountain. Some people moan about getting wet, others frolic like kids around a hydrant. You even wonder if this fountain-drain paradigm might be the skeleton key to Kelce, the Rosetta Stone for which half of America seems to be hunting right now.

Kelce was famous for several years, thanks to his Hall of Fame résumé, his symbiotic relationship with Mahomes, but that was just football famous. This year, after winning the Super Bowl, after hosting Saturday Night Live, after starring in all the commercials, Kelce became inescapable. And that was before—you know.

People have begun to ask in all earnestness why they can’t turn on their TV anymore without seeing Kelce’s sculpted mug. They wonder, not with snark, but in all sincerity: Who the frick is this guy? And where did he come from?

You have a TV. You wonder too. So you decide to join the search for answers. One weekend, in the thick of football season, you get on a plane to Kansas City.

BUT FIRST. Back up. Like that knucklehead who threw it into reverse, go back. Before you can take the Travis Michael Kelce Guided Tour, you need to watch him cry.

Kelce is a hard man to tackle, but he’s shockingly easy to trigger. You just have to mention his best friends, the tight-knit crew who hang at his house and tag along on his golf outings, who manage his money and curate his diet and fill his private suite at Arrowhead Stadium. Suddenly, his cornflower-blue eyes, which normally twinkle, start to glisten. Now come the tears. Big sloppy ones. Talk about your fountains.

Kelce tries to play it off. He launches a sentence, stops. He launches another, again aborts. He paws his eyes with his giant hands and looks to be on the verge of losing it, because if Kelce loves people, what he really loves is his people.

This whole display takes place on a Monday afternoon at a Kansas City steakhouse, where you and Kelce are having an early dinner. Like, retirement-community early. He’s in recovery mode, healing from dozens of violent collisions sustained during the previous day’s win over division rival Los Angeles, and food is medicine. He can intuit when he’s hit the caloric sweet spot necessary to mend or maintain his 6-foot-5, 260-pound frame (roughly 4,000), and he’s not there yet. So he orders the dry-aged filet rubbed with coffee, Caesar salad (hold the anchovies), a side of “triple-cooked” fries and a glass of water.

After a long pause, and several Lamaze breaths, Kelce collects himself, apologizes. Can’t help it, he says; those folks who always have his back, who call him by the ancient secret nicknames (Big Yeti, El Travedor, Killatrav, Michael, etc.)—they’re everything. He doesn’t think of them as his entourage; he thinks of them as family, an extension of “Mama Kelce” and “Poppa Kelce” and older brother Jason, the starting center for the Philadelphia Eagles.

Patrick Bacon, a friend since first grade, says Kelce’s go-to method of winding down after a hard game or long day is to sit with this “core group” around his kitchen island and chop it up. Talk, that’s what nourishes Kelce, not videogames, not bottle service at some club.

“He loves to talk about the old days,” Bacon says. But it has to be with people from the old days. People who know that Kelce will sometimes dismiss a bad or subpar thing as “buns.” People who know that one of Kelce’s favorite desserts is French toast dripping with whipped cream and syrup. People who know that, growing up, he played every sport in Cleveland Heights, Ohio, and also know the difference between Cleveland Heights and Cleveland proper. You want to break into the Kelce core group? You better have a phone number that starts with 216.

And yet, you wonder how well his friends really know him, how well he lets anyone know him, because to a person they all say Trav lives in the moment, Trav never thinks about tomorrow, Trav never worries about retirement, despite recently turning 34, making him a Gollum in the NFL, whereas Kelce confesses that he thinks about it nonstop, “more than anyone could ever imagine.” In the same spirit, perhaps, he keeps his own counsel about his round-the-clock physical anguish. “That’s the only thing I’ve never really been open about,” he says, “the discomfort. The pain. The lingering injuries—the 10 surgeries I’ve had that I still feel every single surgery to this day.”

Kansas City’s longtime tight ends coach, Tom Melvin, says Kelce undersells the pain because the alternative is not playing, and the man will not miss games. “He has phenomenal pain tolerance. He’s played through things that other athletes I’ve coached through the years have not been able to push through. Mentally tough—way off the charts.”

Kelce’s trainer and physical therapist, Alex Skacel, says there’s not a single day, in season, when Kelce stretches out on the training table and doesn’t have some gruesome bruise. What few realize, however, is the insane number of scratches. Guys claw each other out there, Skacel says; it can leave Kelce’s epidermis striated with crimson. To bounce back after such abuse requires more than basic therapy. Kelce and Skacel use a battery of esoteric treatments, from cupping to dry needling to occlusion therapy: essentially tying off a limb with a tourniquet while Kelce works out. Kelce also adheres to a pregame regimen of anti-inflammatories, which he doesn’t like to discuss because they “have a history of affecting people’s insides.”

Despite it all, Kelce sounds like a man who’s never loved football more. Skacel recalls being with Kelce in Paris for Fashion Week. Around midnight, after 12 hours of bouncing from one designer show to another, Kelce was feeling guilty that he hadn’t done enough that day for his body. He suggested a run. Soon, a quick jog along the Seine turned into a mini-marathon, then wind sprints across empty bridges. While Paris slept, Kelce and Skacel grinded. It was cinematic, both men say, a double pump of adrenaline, like something out of Rocky. More, it was a reaffirmation of what matters most.

IF KELCE BROODS on life without football, one reason is that he had an excruciating sneak preview. A redshirt sophomore at Cincinnati, he got booted off the team for smoking pot. In a blink, he lost everything—his purpose, his meaning. “It was like my life was over.”

He also lost his scholarship. He had to get a job. The best one he could find was at a telemarketing firm, doing healthcare surveys. “Eye-opening,” he says, bowing his head.

Cold-calling people in southern Ohio, northern Kentucky, eastern Indiana, asking what they thought of Obamacare, taught him a lot. (“Uh, sir, I ran out of the comment box, I can’t write anymore, we gotta kind of keep this moving.”) Above all it taught him that he didn’t want to ever do that again.

He probably won’t have to. He’s got options. Sometimes he sees himself in a broadcasting booth. Sometimes his manager talks about action flicks. (Maybe a Marvel movie? Kelce’s already built like Wolverine.) You also get the sense that Kelce toys with notions of doing some form of comedy. He haunts clubs, lives for open-mic nights, and he’s gotten to be friendly with several rising stand-ups.

At the moment, of course, the only thing millions of people want to know about Kelce’s future is whether or not it will include Taylor Swift. And the second thing they’re dying to know is how he and she got together in the first place.

More study has been dedicated to the opening salvos of their relationship than to the first seconds of the Big Bang, and thus far both origins remain a mystery. People have even speculated that Kelce somehow spoke his desire into the universe and just—manifested Swift?

Did he sit in a dark room and say Jumanji three times? He laughs. “I don’t know if I want to get into all of it,” he says, and then he gets into it, because fountain.

It all started when he tried to meet Swift at her Arrowhead concert in July and got blocked, presumably by security. He then recounted the experience in a charming way on the podcast he does with Jason. Soon after, he says, he received an unbidden assist from inside Team Swift.

“There were definitely people she knew that knew who I was, in her corner [who said]: Yo! Did you know he was coming? I had somebody playing Cupid.” He wasn’t aware at the time, however; the revelation only came later, after he looked down at his phone and got the shock of a lifetime. “She told me exactly what was going on and how I got lucky enough to get her to reach out.”

He lets slip that some of his early helpers were part of the Swift family tree. “She’ll probably hate me for saying this, but…when she came to Arrowhead, they gave her the big locker room as a dressing room, and her little cousins were taking pictures…in front of my locker.”

Understandably, he’s not handing out details about the first date, though he will say that he managed to not be nervous. “When I met her in New York, we had already kind of been talking, so I knew we could have a nice dinner and, like, a conversation, and what goes from there will go from there.”

If anyone was nervous, he adds, it was his core group. “Everybody around me telling me: Don’t f— this up! And me sitting here saying: Yeah—got it.”

As those first heady days unfolded, as news bulletins and cutaways showed Swift cheering Kelce on from his suite, Kelce was uncharacteristically guarded with the media. “That was the biggest thing to me: make sure I don’t say anything that would push Taylor away.”

Likewise, his mother. Donna Kelce still berates herself for how she handled a question about Taylor on the Today show. Trying not to sound too enthusiastic, she came off underwhelmed. Kelce, not wanting his mom to feel bad, immediately phoned her and assured her that she did a super job—adding that her green eyeglasses looked great.

These days, however, with the relationship progressing, Donna feels more at liberty. “I can tell you this,” she says, beaming. “He’s happier than I’ve seen him in a long time…. God bless him, he shot for the stars!”

Kelce seems freer, too. He doesn’t need to be asked about Taylor; he mentions her unreservedly, lavishes praise on her, calls her “hilarious,” “a genius,” notes that they share compatible worldviews, especially when it comes to family and work. “Everybody knows I’m a family guy,” he says. “Her team is her family. Her family does a lot of stuff in terms of the tour, the marketing, being around, so I think she has a lot of those values as well, which is right up my alley.”

One of Kelce’s friends describes a sweet, magical moment, a late-night gathering around Kelce’s firepit. Kelce and Swift looked like two “peas in a pod,” the friend says, and at one point they even burst into a memorable duet of—“Teenage Dirtbag”?

This must be fake

My lips start to shake

How does she know who I am?

LONG BEFORE MEETING SWIFT, Kelce was just another Swiftie. In some ways he still is. He explains the concept of her concert—“She does it in eras”—as if you live in a yurt in Outer Mongolia. Then he eagerly informs you that the night he attended, he was counting the minutes until she got to 1989. (Both he and Swift were born in 1989.) “ ‘Blank Space’ was one I wanted to hear live for sure. I could make a bad guy good for the weekend. That’s a helluva line!”

More often than not, he says, it was a Swiftian beat, a melody that captivated him. (“She writes catchy jingles.”) But lately he’s all about those lyrics; he’s scrutinized the breakup stuff. What a miracle, he says, the way Swift can turn life into poetry. “I’ve never been a man of words. Being around her, seeing how smart Taylor is, has been f—ing mind-blowing. I’m learning every day.”

Something he might need to learn from Swift: how to handle the attention. Kelce lives in a quiet neighborhood north of downtown—leafy trees, trim lawns, no gates. There’s now a clutch of desperate-looking dudes with cameras stationed on his sidewalk 24/7. He’s followed everywhere, drones buzzing overhead—it’s stressful, more than he lets on, according to one confidante.

“Obviously I’ve never dated anyone with that kind of aura about them…. I’ve never dealt with it,” Kelce says. “But at the same time, I’m not running away from any of it…. The scrutiny she gets, how much she has a magnifying glass on her, every single day, paparazzi outside her house, outside every restaurant she goes to, after every flight she gets off, and she’s just living, enjoying life. When she acts like that I better not be the one acting all strange.”

Asked if he has anything to teach Swift, he looks shy. He can’t think of anything offhand.

Football?

Sure, he says, sounding unsure.

Of course, the thing she probably wants to learn about most is him. While talking to Kelce you realize all at once that the most avid participant in the national scavenger hunt for clues about his character is likely Swift herself. To that end, Donna says that anyone wishing to understand her younger son would do well to start with her older. Travis “could never quite catch up” to Jason, she says. “He was always just second, just searching to be the best, and never quite getting there.” (The only way in which the two brothers were full equals was appetite. As boys, Donna says, “they would sit down and eat whole chickens.”)

Others say the key to Travis is simpler than that. He’s basically still the kid who filled his Dad’s shampoo bottle with hand cream. “He just lives his life with so much joy,” Jason says. “He’s always kind of surrounding himself with people who are funny, who have a zest for life; it’s one of the things that defines him.”

Jason recalls many nights in the Kelce family room, the two brothers and mom eating in front of some comedy. “We had one of those coffee tables that the top would lift up and meet you at your face if you were eating,” he says, guffawing.

Maybe that’s why Kelce still watches and rewatches those same movies and shows? All his sacred entities got fused into one dollop of sensory memory—food, family, laughter.

Indeed, Kelce has warned Swift that she’s going to have to reckon with this part of his personality. Adam Sandler, Chris Farley, Will Ferrell—they will all be a part of the relationship. “I told Taylor that I have that world, I’ve got to introduce it to her. I let her know: This is my jam right here.” (Kelce does an uncanny imitation of Farley’s dorky baritone, and the ringtone on his phone is Farley primal screaming: For the love of GOD!)

If the past is any prelude, this will register like an 8.0 earthquake among Swifties. Their queen—screening Tommy Boy? Every new factoid, every new piece of the puzzle, gets eagerly cataloged, investigated, celebrated, especially on “SwiftTok,” a fervent virtual community, according to Brian Donovan, a professor at the University of Kansas who teaches a seminar called The Sociology of Taylor Swift.

Donovan says several of his class discussions this semester have been given over to No. 87. Swifties make no apology for delving into her relationships, just as Shakespeare scholars like to contemplate the subject of the sonnets. But the deep “vetting” of Kelce, Donovan adds, goes well beyond fans. “I think there’s a public fascination, because it seems like a pure unalloyed moment of joy in the wider context of global wars, deepening political polarization, dysfunction in Congress, an ongoing health crisis. There’s a lot of bad news out there, and this is a common story that everybody knows about and can talk about. I don’t think we’ve had that in American culture for a long time.”

NOW GET IN THE CAR. Now you’re ready for the Rolls. Or are you? Gawking at the ceiling, you ask, Are those stars?

Yes, Kelce says.

You stare in disbelief. Embedded in a leather firmament are scores, no, hundreds—many hundreds—of twinkling lights, a fiber-optic galaxy meant to resemble the larger galaxy in which we’re all floating. For the sake of verisimilitude, the Rolls even produces a shooting star now and then. There was one, just a second ago, Kelce says. “Make a wish. Dreams come true.”

He guns the engine and steers toward downtown. The Rolls doesn’t drive so much as waft you around Kansas City. The ride is so cush, it almost makes sense, for a moment or two, that the car is worth more than many of the buildings you pass. (A Rolls Ghost, before customizing, goes for nearly half a million dollars.) All of which makes it that much more startling, as you come to the heart of downtown, when Kelce points out his first-ever apartment and shows you the alley door where he’d sneak in and out when he was late on the rent.

What?

It was his rookie season, he says, and the paychecks rolled in every week. But he didn’t understand that paychecks stop when the season does. So he didn’t budget. “I don’t want to say I was broke….” But he was. “There might have been one or two days I avoided the landlord.”

He’s not ducking landlords these days. Still, he’s grossly underpaid. His $14 million salary, though near the top among tight ends, is half what the league’s star receivers make, and Kelce often functions as a receiver.

Nothing to be done, he says flatly. The Chiefs know, he says, that he would play for free. They know he loves his city, his quarterback. “Unfortunately, in this business, things gotta get ugly, they gotta get unpleasant [if you want more money], and I’m a pleasant son of a buck.”

Thank goodness for endorsements. At this point, says his co-manager Aaron Eanes, “the NFL is just his side hustle.”

Eanes and his brother, Andre, handle much of Kelce’s business life, from investments to marketing, and it was they who widened his investment portfolio, putting him into a tequila company, an energy drink and a chain of car washes. They also steered him into lucrative endorsements, like Bud Light and the Covid vaccine, for which he caught much grief from Aaron Rodgers. The Jets quarterback, out since game one of the season with a torn Achilles, belittled Kelce as a Pfizer shill during one of his Tuesday appearances on The Pat McAfee Show.

Kelce took the high road then. He’s staying on it now. “Aaron’s always been cool to me,” he says. “I knew he was trying to have some fun. He’s in a situation where Tuesdays are his game days…. So I get it, man, I’ve been injured too…. Who knows what the guy is going through?”

Kelce double-parks the Rolls outside a building that’s brightly lit, unusual in this neighborhood. That’s Operation Breakthrough, he says, voice swelling with emotion. Founded in 1971, the charitable organization provides safe spaces and cutting-edge educational resources for the city’s poorest children. Kelce enjoys coming here to visit, and sometimes invites the children to his suite on Sundays. And three years ago, when Operation Breakthrough wanted to expand, he bought them the muffler shop next door.

Mary Esselman, Operation Breakthrough’s CEO, says that whenever Kelce visits, he doesn’t bring media and he doesn’t leave until the last kid has felt seen and appreciated. Not long ago, she adds, Kelce sponsored a football camp. Afterward, Esselman asked the children to name the highlight of the experience.

One told her: “He remembered my name.”

Kelce drives you past a jazz club he likes, a coffee place he used to frequent. Just recently, he concedes, he could go to a Starbucks in Manhattan without anyone looking twice. Those days seem over. Minutes later, he’s steering past a small airport, where Swift’s plane is often prominently parked these days.

Is it there now, gleaming in the moonlight? The Kelce eras tour is coming to a close. Left unsaid, but palpable: She’s at the house, waiting.

The Rolls pulls off the highway, up the hill to your hotel. You thank him for taking so much time, for answering all your questions. As you step out of the Rolls, you turn, ask him one more.

You ask him if you’re going crazy, or did he really say that thing when you first got in the car? Did he really point to a shooting star in the ceiling of his Rolls-Royce and say, “Make a wish. Dreams come true”?

He cracks up.

He did. He said it.

He’s not running from it.

What’s more, it might just be true.

“How do you think I manifest it all?”

#this took me forever #you’re welcome

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izaacs-notdeadyet · 1 year ago

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OHHH MY GOD THE WAY MY ASS FORGOT TO POST ABT THIS

Meet Spider-Mortis

(He/Him)

He used to be just a regular Spider-Man before his doc ock fucked up ans bombed the damn world. In the wreckage of the ruins he rose up to become a kind of Robin Hood figure, stealing from the rich in their bunkers hoarding resources to give to the survivors.

For his design I wanted to take a more apocalyptic fashion statement with the classic Spider-Man suit color and design, but also make it feel more mature, like he is going through an actual apocalypse. His color pallet consists of blues, reds, and desaturated greens for his clothes

I gave him two different logos, one a skull with spider legs coming out from it, and the other a radioactive symbol with the spider legs aswell. I decided to put the skull ver on his suit, and use the radioactive one for clothing accents (and also on his bag, not currently drawn)

I also gave him a gas mask because it’s just.. cool (and I like making everything harder for myself)

(⚠️slight gore both written and drawn ahead⚠️)

Now for his villains,

the ones I’ve already drawn are his doc ock and also vulture.

First, Doc Ock

Doc Ock was actually what inspired me to make this, after watching Tobey Maguire’s Spider-Man I had a realization about how actually terrifying it could be if the chip thingy failed. Imagine if he ended up just being a corpse piloted by a bunch of robotic arms. That, is exactly what this doc ock is.

Because of his proximity to the blast, he pretty much died instantly, layers of flesh being the only thing left behind other then his robotic arms, who quickly gained control of his body afterwards. I’m not exactly sure how I want this character to act, whether it’ll just be a slight nuisance, or an actual villain I’m not quite sure.

I quite like my idea for his Vulture.

(She/They)

I Imagine her being some kind of anti-villain. They want the complete abolishment of the upper class, and could careless if all the humans left died as long as the rich died along with them. They tend to leave behind most the supplies they come across unless they really need them, the only thing she takes is the lives in the area.

I had a lot of fun with her character design. One of the things I had fun figuring out is how I could keep that aspect of femininity while also keeping it realistic for the apocalyptic environment. I went through a lot of different versions, experimenting with corsets for bust support, and different kinds of skirts etc before coming to my final design (possibly not final design)

I gave them a more lighter color pallet, using brighter greens and browns. I have a bit of an obsession with camo patterns and I thought it would fit with her character perfectly so i gave them camo pants. I also took the boot design straight from Pinterest. (Guilty as charged.)

I added beige leg warmers to match with her top, which I’m not exactly sure how I’d explain it. Kinda like a wrap top? With a strap over stop of it. I gave them this kind of leather cape hood combo, and put it overtop of the bird skull mask (based off a vulture) I gave her. Underneath that she has a white, button up shirt, with the sleeves tucked into gloves, which I modeled after bird handling gloves.

Now here comes the part I love the most. I spend a lot of time researching vultures, and I am in love with the idea that she has a flock of vultures that just follow her where she goes. The idea that they leave behind enough bodies to where the vultures know if they follow them they’ll get food is fucking badass.

Like seriously. Imagine accidentally stumbling upon her camp and you look up and there’s just a kettle (the name of a group of vultures) of vultures watching your every move looking at you like they want to pluck your eyes out.

I also have a few ideas for some other villains

Deadpool (I think it would be quite funny in a setting where everyone is heavily dressed to avoid radiation and injury he’s just in the most revealing slutty outfit known to man)

Kraven, which I could possibly pair up with Vulture for an arc

The lizard, which could quite literally just be a radiated alligator

I’ve considered adding a black cat

Maybe some spin on vemon?

Let me know if you have any ideas I fucking love imput

#across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv #spidersona #spiderverse oc #oc #character design #world building #digital art

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jasntodds · 2 years ago

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Lost In The Bitterness | J.T.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Request: @just-lost-inbetween-worlds : I was wondering if you could write a fic where reader kind of works for the titans helping with their medical stuff as she has her EMT certificate or something similar, and one late night she patches up Jason/red hood or Robin, who’ve had a crush on each other secretly but are also sort of enemies? And then when she patches a fairly hurt Jason like the feelings come out and they kiss and confess and such.

Summary: Patching up Jason Todd, Red Hood, at two in the morning on a Tuesday night was not exactly on your agenda. Especially given the history between the two of you.

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, enemies to lovers, mentions of previous homelessness, bit of angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Words: 3,323

A/n: Photo credit goes to the amazing @just-lost-inbetween-worlds !! Hello, I love injury tropes, especially this one lmao If you wanna be added to my tag list, click the link below, send me an ask, or comment!! You can also follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary !! If you like this, please reblog it and/or talk to me about it!!

masterlist | request info | tag list

You and Jason were friends previously, before Red Hood, before he died, before Robin. Jason and you were two street kids, just trying to make it to the next day. You'd met at one of the shelters, clicked almost instantly. Even then he was charming and funny, hot-headed as hell. A true menace to society. He got you into so much trouble and you lived for it. It was fun and he was your best friend. You were his. But he decided to try and rob the Batmobile and Bruce Wayne picked him. You haven't been friends since. Unfortunately, for you though, the Titans and Red Hood have managed to patch things up between them and Red Hood is in San Francisco helping with a case.

When you decided to get your EMT certification, you didn't think you'd be using it to work with the Titans. You got it so you could help people, sure, but you thought you'd be helping people who did not always put themselves, intentionally, in the line of fire. But, life is funny that way. It rarely ever goes the way you think will. And now you're here, working for the Titans because of one really random and chance encounter with an injured Nightwing a few years ago. You helped him and the rest, should have been history. But, your life can't possibly be that simple because then you found out the one and only Jason Todd was actually Red Hood.

"Did you wanna tell me what happened?" Your voice holds a harshness to it that makes Jason groan as you get your supplies ready to patch him up.

"Like you fucking care." Jason quips back, stripping his top half of the suit.

"That's true. I do not fucking care. This is a favor to Dick." Your words are harsh and it hurts.

Jason isn't sure exactly what he did to you to make you hate him so much. Jason isn't oblivious and he's far from stupid. It's not a coincidence that your friendship ended the day he went to live with Bruce. But, he can't figure out why you're so mad about that. Why you don't want him to be taken care of? It didn't pan out exactly how he thought it would with Bruce with the whole Batman and Robin thing, then the dying thing. But, it was good and safe for a while and he was happy being Robin and with Bruce. He doesn't understand why you would hate him for that. So, he's mad at you because you're mad at him. And hearing this is a favor to Dick, now that stings like a hundred hornets.

"Don't fucking help then. Give me the shit and I'll do it my-damn-self. I don't need you." Jason snarls, sticking out his hand for you to hand him whatever you're willing and for a second, you think about it.

Being around him is just difficult and it hurts. All you two do is fight which is partially because you start it a good portion of the time. But, he keeps it going and he hits low blows. Tonight, you're taking the first strike, before he even has a chance. And you think about letting him patch himself up because he's done it before and it would be easier for you. You wouldn't have to be around him and technically, that's still fulfilling the favor to Dick. You made sure Jason didn't die...again. But, you signed an oath and you don't hate him that much. Hate might even be the wrong word.

"No, I'll do it." You mutter, grabbing a pack of gauze pads, knowing you'll be needing to clean something.

"I'm not some dirty fucking favor to anyone." Jason grumbles and his words are hot, boiling in the air.

"You're so insufferable." You groan, tossing your head back in frustration. "Just shut the fuck up and let me help you so you can leave." You turn around and now you're getting a look at the damage.

The anger and annoyance you just had vanished in an instant. His abdomen is bloody, what looks to be a large gash is near his right rib cage. There's a spot below it that looks like a bullet grazed the spot. Shades of purples, blues, and maroons litter the rest of his abdomen. There are a few scars across his chest, on his arms, one up near his neck and you wonder how the hell that even happened. His armor is supposed to protect him. And it stings looking at him like this.

"I'm fucking fine." Jason spits, his eyes narrowed at you and he sees the worry start to stretch across your face. "Don't suddenly act like you give a shit now. I'm bleeding out, you wanna do something or let me do it?"

You suck in a deep breath and move forward. He knows exactly which buttons to press and just how to press them. And yet, you find yourself, not growing mad at the interaction. You've never seen him like this. You've seen him with plenty of bruises and cuts. Jason being a hothead, he's been in his fair share of fistfights but nothing like this. This is different, it's more dangerous. He's putting himself in the line of bullets and knives and fists on purpose. The thought of him dying, again, crosses your mind and you feel your heart skip and then thunder as if it's going to burst right out from your chest.

You weren’t friends when he died but you remember seeing it on the news. Jason Todd had been killed. And you remember how it hurt anyway. Your breath had been sucked from your lungs and every piece of you regretted ever being mad at him in the first place. But, then he came back to life as Red Hood and you fight with him anyway because maybe a part of you thought he was indestructible after dying. He seemed that way and believing that lie you told yourself was easier than facing him. Clearly, you’re very wrong.

"Just stay still." You drop the venom in your voice, kneeling down so you can see the wound.

Jason holds your phone's flashlight in your direction so you can see better. It's not a super deep wound luckily and he doesn't seem to be in too much pain meaning it likely didn't hit anything important. So, you get to work cleaning the wound with water, holding a rag under it to catch the falling water.

"What the hell happened?" You ask, glancing up at him and Jason's eyes are boring into you.

Dick called and gave you the heads up you'd need to help Jason. Jason is staying at the tower but you both have been actively avoiding each other. So, Dick calling you to give you the heads up for your own sake, to prepare yourself for the encounter. And you figured it would be bad for Dick even ask. You always patch them up, even when they can do it themselves. But you didn't think you'd be dealing with Jason. Dick knows you never want to. But, of course you do it anyway. And now you're stuck worried about him.

"A few lucky shots, I guess." Jason looks away from you, not wanting to give you any detail. You already said you don't care, he's not gonna waste his breath.

"Yeah, okay." You roll your eyes. "Former Robin, current Red Hood, just people getting lucky shots in. Sure."

"You don't fucking care." Jason's voice almost cracks with his words. "Just do whatever the hell you need to and I'll leave, alright?"

Hate is not the word for Jason. It was never the right word. Because he's mad at you for being mad at him. When you were kids, there were always those bubbling feelings in the pit of his stomach. He always brushed them away because who has time for that when you're just trying to survive? And the feelings went away because you weren't around anymore. But, then he saw you again and they flooded right back. Even with you being mad at him. There is still something stirring in his stomach when he's around you. Hate isn't the right word.

You let out a sigh. "I'm just mad." You shake your head, swapping the water out for a gauze pad to dry some of the water so you can start stitching it.

It's not the right word for you either. He left you and that hurt a lot. But, it also hurt because you did really like him. Jason Todd has always been charming and charismatic, funny. He's always had a way to get you to laugh or smile either with something that was actually funny or some type of innuendo that also made you cringe. He's always been very good at it and there was a reason he was your best friend. It was never out of a convenience or necessity. There is always something a little bit more to it. And then he left and it hurt a lot. Being mad at him for it was a lot easier than facing any other type of feeling you had toward him.

He knows you're mad. That's kind of the whole issue. Maybe a part of him doesn't want to know. He thinks maybe you'll tell him it's him. There's something he specifically did. He's done it to everyone else, done something to piss them off and make them hate him. The Titans hated him for long enough, Bruce wasn't thrilled with him. Bruce still isn't happy with him given their opposing morals. Everyone gives up on him eventually and he doesn't want to hear that. Not tonight.

Not from you.

You get up and grab the needle and thread, threading the needle before moving back to your spot. Jason is still watching you intently and it makes you feel a little uneasy. You're not really sure why he's watching you so carefully. He has a thing about him that always makes you squirm, he's always been good at it. And maybe you're a little tired of being mad at him. Especially right now because he's injured.

"You left." Your voice is so small, Jason barely hears you.

"You're mad because I left?" Jason questions, his brows pulling together.

"Mhm." You hum. "Stay still. It'll probably hurt." You state before you start the stitching with no warning and Jason flitches. "Sorry."

"It's fine." Jason says through gritted teeth.

You start adding several stitches up the wound. "You went to live with Bruce and you left me alone."

It's not that he left you alone on purpose. He didn't have a choice. He went with Bruce, to a home, or go to juvie again. The choice was pretty easy and simple. He also did go looking for you but you conveniently, forget that part of the story.

"I looked for you. You fucking avoided me. I checked all of our spots and you were never fucking there. What the hell did you expect me to do?" Jason questions and it’s so frustrating. And you can hear the hurt in his voice which makes you feel worse for being mad in the first place.

"I don't know." You groan back, pausing your stitching. "But it hurt, okay? You left me alone and it hurt. And I'm mad because you were my best friend and you got to be safe. I got the shit end of the stick." You shake your head and that’s first time you’re saying it out loud, realizing how horrible it sounds. “It’s...it’s not your fault. It just sucked.”

That's not his fault. It's not his fault you weren’t caught by Bruce. It was a chance encounter. A fluke. Jason was just ballsy to try and steal from Batman. That's all it was. It's not his fault but he feels bad about it anyway because he doesn't think he deserves it. He doesn't think he ever deserved the kindness that Bruce offered that day or deserved the chance to be Robin. Look at what he's become, Jason doesn't think he deserves it.

"I'm sorry." Jason states, his voice broken. "You should have gotten better, alright? You should have."

You shake your head and you know this whole thing is dumb and selfish. "No," You shrug your shoulders. “It’s not your fault, Jay. I’m sorry for being mad. You deserved better and it was selfish of me to be mad. I was mad at the world and I took it out on you because it was easier, I guess. I’m really sorry.” You wish you could take it all back. Every single part of it. It’s not fair to him and you know he always deserved the best.

Jason is someone who doesn’t hold many grudges. He can let stuff go and it’s pretty simple. Apologize and he can move past it. And he always had a hard time staying mad at you for anything.

“I was only mad at you because you were mad at me.” Jason lets out a soft chuckle.

A faint smile pulls at your lips. “That’s a very you thing to do.” You lets out a soft laugh.

You continue to patch Jason up as the silence of the room consumes the two of you. You meant a lot to him. Jason's always been a rebel with a cause, causing trouble for the fun of it. Just trying to survive and you got that. You always did and you helped him get in and out of trouble more times than he count. You were his best friend and he's missed you, even if he doesn't show it and he's been mean to you. He's missed you and he hates being mad at you. Jason doesn't hold very many grudges.

And in this moment, you're finding it hard to hold onto the grudge. He's riddled with scars and he's actively doing what no one else is willing to do. Baring the weight so other people don't have to. He never meant to hurt you and you know he didn't. You wonder if anyone has ever helped him, after Robin. Probably not. Jason doesn't let many people in to begin with and you find yourself feeling sad for him. He didn’t deserve any of the bad things that have happened to him. And all of those feelings you had for him, bubble back up to the surface.

"I did miss you, for the record." You state, letting out a breath.

Jason's abdomen flexes as a chuckle falls from his lips. "Bull fucking shit."

"I did." You defend. "You were my best friend, of course, I missed you."

"Sure as shit never acted like it." Jason spits but there’s almost an airy sarcasm to his words.

"Because of the anger I had covered it up." You glance up at him as you finish placing some gauze on one of the cuts.

"You gonna stay mad at me forever?" Jason offers you the smirk that used to get you into trouble and he’s so tired of being mad at you. It’s pointless. It never got either of you anywhere.

"No." You flash him a gentle smile.

"Good, holding grudges doesn't look good on you." Jason quips, a cheeky smirk on his lips.

You roll your eyes, getting to your feet. "Oh, and now you know what looks good on me?"

"I've got some ideas."

"Right." You nod your head. "Be careful next time." You look him up and down and you can feel your stomach turn with nerves as you watch the smirk turn into something cocky.

"So now you care, huh?"

"Just don't want you to die again." You state.

"Yeah." Jason scoffs, looking down to his lap.

"Mad doesn't mean I actually didn't care."

"Sorry for everything anyway."

"It's alright, I forgive you." Your eyes widen at him as a smile pulls at your lips. "Always had a hard time staying mad you, especially when you manage to apologize."

"Yeah?" Jason gets a sinister glint in his eyes. "And why's that?" A part of him is messing with you, just like he used to when you were kids. The other part though, is curious if your reasoning is the same as his.

Your eyes narrow slightly. "Because..." You shrug and decide you have nothing to lose at this point. You’re not kids on the streets anymore. And you’re done holding onto bitterness and grudges. There’s no harm in telling him now. "Had a little hit of a thing for you then."

Jason's heart thunders with your words and he can feel heat rush to his cheeks. "Not now though?" He tries to brush it off, admitting the same thing. "Had a thing for you, too.... back then."

"Not now though?" You repeat his words and Jason has a cheeky grin as his eyes look to the ceiling and back to you. Jason shrugs right back. "Oh, well, too bad.” Sarcasm drips from your words. “Could've seen where it would go now but if—"

Jason grabs the back of your thighs, pulling you closer to him. Your hands catch yourself on his shoulders, your eyes wide. And you feel your heart jump to your throat.

"You saying you still do?" Jason asks, his eyes hopeful and you always liked the color of his eyes.

"Is that going to be an issue?"

Jason can't help the genuine smile that comes to his face. He always felt the most comfortable with you, even when you were being mean to him. "Nope, not an issue." Jason's voice drops as he eyes your lips.

"Yeah, still have a thing for you now." You dip your head lower, resting your forehead against his.

"So, do something about it." His voice is low but taunting and you take him up on it, bringing his lips to yours.

The kiss is soft at first but then Jason's grip tightens on your thighs, pulling you closer and your hands tangle in his hair, pulling his mouth harsher against yours. The kiss turns hungry and desperate, his hands sliding up to your ass and then your hips. His mind pays no attention to the pain of the injuries from tonight and he focused solely on you. He's always wanted to be with you, since those days on the streets. It's complicated now, too but not like that.

You pull away first. Your breathing is quickened and an uncontrollable smile pulls at the corners of your lips. "Didn't know you felt that way, Jay." And truly, you never did. The jokes always seemed like jokes but the idea of him and you makes your heart nearly burst.

"Yeah," Jason chuckles softly. And he never thought you liked him, not like that. You always liked to mess with him and played the same jokes. He thought that’s all it ever was. Why wouldn’t it be? But, that never stopped him from wanting something more with you. So, now with confirmation, he takes his shot at it. "You wanna try this out? See where it goes?"

You nod your head, lowering your voice to just above a whisper. "Yeah, I'd like that." You close the distance again, kissing him deeply.

Tag list: @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @dgraysonss // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @vivian-555 // @kebonita // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover

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tieflingtareon · 1 year ago

Text

Shelter My Fears (Reanimate My Heart)

Chapter 1 | Words: 5.8k

Summary: Driven beneath a canopy by a storm, Lith'mors found himself greeted by not the owner of the tower, but his apprentice. In an impulsive act of kindness, the drow finds himself a guest of the man's younger siblings. As much as he enjoys their company, and has a wizard to find, he can't seem to keep himself away from the eldest brother. Or the tower that seems more like a prison than a home.

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51897478/chapters/131223739

The rain wouldn't stop. It pelted harshly upon his frame, his cloak waterlogged and heavy on his shoulders. His robes were soaked through, sticking to his skin. Not even the weak warming charm he had casted was keeping the water from leeching the heat from his skin; not that there was much to give, in the first place. He was naturally suited to the cold and damp.

He would kick Gale's ass when he got his hands on him. Making them all worry like this, making him travel all the way to this city again. He didn't hold any resentment towards it, but it wasn't to his preference. He'd spent far too long in this city the last time he was here. He wished he was back in the beauty of Silverymoon or the quiet, ominous rustling of Rawlinswood - or even Neverwinter, curled up with a good book, sharing a cup of hot tea in comfortable silence with cousin Laura.

Morena, as strong as woman as she was, had fractured with her son's disappearance. Haelan was doing his best to support his wife, but he was just as worried. After all, they'd known exactly where he was for the past several years, even if they had waited anxiously for the day their son would succumb to his 'condition'. Lith'mors was certain that if the day had ever come, where Gale could no longer feed the starving orb in his chest, his parents would have allowed the blinding light of their only child's hubris and misguided affections consume them too as they held him through the pain.

A few years ago, Lith'mors probably would have considered doing the same. Sometimes, he still thought he might. As much as he loved Gale, he knew he needed more in his life than him. He had needed to see the world, to touch magic of all kinds, to read and learn until he was buried in the ground for good. He had loved Gale, but after leaving his tower, he realised that he needed more than love.

He needed to be alone, needed to sit with himself, his past, without feeling the need to share himself with another, to ignore it, if only for a time. He needed time to focus on himself, to explore, to become the wizard he desired to be, from his own efforts. To become his own man.

He succeeded. In his travels, he consumed all the knowledge he could, spoke to magic users of all kinds from various races, without falling into their beds this time, admiring their skills and learning what he could from them. No academy could teach him the experiences he'd lived, the magic he had wielded beneath guides and his own willpower. There was always more to learn, of course, more to experience, but for now - he felt somewhat sated. He supposed Gale and him had always had that in common. A gnawing hunger they couldn't sate. Gale had been cursed with it, but Lith'mors had been born with it, kept dormant until he was free of his mother.

He didn't think much of her anymore. After over a century apart, it was only natural. It would never remove the bile that arose in his throat when he thought of her cold gaze though, those red eyes forever haunting him. It would never stop the cold sweat that broke out along his skin when he saw a spider crawling along piles or stone.

Lith'mors ducked out of the rain with a shudder, looking up at the canopy above him. He hid away beneath it, pulling his sopping hood down with a sigh. He needed to find shelter for the night. Half a decade ago, he would have found a fellow wizard, man or woman, and convinced them to take him to their warm bed, to indulge him with a meal and stories of their adventures, their studies.

Even now, it was tempting. A century old habit was hard to kick. Yet, he had promised he'd give that up. When he told Gale he wanted to leave, to travel, the man had accepted the ending of their relationship with soft mourning, knowing he would not be able to follow him - but he had made him promise one thing. That he would never sleep with another who was not a genuine lover. That he would pick his partners without thinking only of the benefits their shelter, knowledge or coin could bring him.

Lith'mors wasn't sure how to explain to the man that he didn't mind his past, or what he did to live more comfortably. He hadn't minded working in the brothels, had adored his time with various wizards who offered their knowledge to him as well as their kisses. Almost every person he had slept with had been beautiful - at least, to him. Perhaps his standards were lower than most, but he believed their was beauty in everyone. Making them feel as beautiful on the outside as they were on the inside, with his own body, had been a privilige.

He knew knowledge had a price, just as most things did. He couldn't afford fancy wizarding schools like Gale, but he had been able to learn from the same professors who taught at them, tasting the Weave on his tongue as they guided him. He supposed in a way, he was manipulating them, but was it really manipulation if they both got what they wanted in the end? If his affections for many of them had been true? They got to bed a pretty, exotic thing from below the surface world, to have companionship, and he got access to their personal libraries, to their spells. Maybe he'd taken a scroll or two, but more often than not, they had been gifted to him.

Lith'mors sighed softly as he took a seat on the ground, tucked away from the rain. He supposed he could simply sleep there tonight. He had slept outside more than once, even if he'd gotten used to having a place to rest his head without worries. He tilted his head back and let it thump softly against the door.

Gale told him once that Baldur's Gate was the place he'd go when he wanted to clear his head. When he wanted to escape his mother's scolding and his father's near-patronising lectures. It was the only place he could think to go when Gale disappeared. Vanished without a trace. Seeing the Dekarios' so distraught - he couldn't sit around and do nothing. They were his family, as much as Gale was. To others, it may seem strange, your ex lover being like family, but he'd offered him a place amongst the Dekarios' years ago.

No matter where he went, he'd always had a Dekarios nearby who was willing to shelter him for as long as he needed. Gale's family was his, and they accepted him as another member without question; the Dekarios name was simply another word for 'home' in his mind. A much better house than the one he came from, the one he shed a century ago.

"If you're dead, I swear I will reanimate you and make you dig your own grave. Fill it with spiders for you to eat, bastard." Lith'mors muttered bitterly, but the bitterness was simply to shield himself from the deep ache in his heart. Wherever Gale was...he had to be alive. It would be hard to miss his explosive end, after all. He was alive, just missing. Lith'mors simply had to find him and bring him home. Back to Waterdeep - back to Morena and Haelan.

He heard a soft creak and moved his hood back up, if only to covered his telltale drow features with the enchantment he'd placed on his cloak to obscure his face, glancing up as the door beside him opened just enough for a figure to stand in it's entryway. The gentle yellow glow of eyes were the first thing he noticed.

"...Are you another lost soul that stumbled into Baldur's Gate?" Lith'mors single red eye could make out the man's features with ease in the dark, and he could tell that the other could see him just fine as well. His darkvision was superior to a tieflings, but he supposed missing one eye might even the scores.

"More like I'm looking for one. He alludes me, this time." Lith'mors hummed, focused on the other's face. There was a light bruise against his temple, a small wound than looked more like a tear than a cut, across his brow. There was the slightest discolouration to his mouth, the skin of his lip split and still bleeding faintly. The man licked away his own blood discreetly and looked out towards the rain.

"There's a tavern not far from here. You should go there."

"They barely accept the coin of you tieflings. I doubt they'd take mine. I'd rather sleep outside." He had tried the Elfsong already. The moment he stepped in, he had known he wasn't welcome. He was used to that reaction, he'd dealt with the stares and whispers all his life on the surface, even dealt with the violence that came with some peoples prejudice, but he refused to indulge their hatred. At first glance, he knew he appeared to be like most drow, Lolth-sworn and dangerous. He'd be wary of one of his kind too with their reputation.

Lith'mors eased himself up onto his feet with a soft sigh, pulling his hood down as he turned to face the other properly. The others expression was guarded, but there was a hint of nervous energy in the flexing of his fingers in the door handle, in the way the end of his tail flicked side to side, jerking rather than swaying.

"Look, you can't stay here. Lorro- the master of this tower doesn't like squatters." He stated, attempting to sound firm, but there was a gentle quiver to the words ‘master’. Lith'mors eye took in the other, attempting to decipher him, to figure out where that nervous energy stemmed from. The longer he took him in, the more obvious it became that he was shaken. The bruises were fresh. Lith'mors wondered if they still throbbed or if they were starting to settle into a soft ache. He wondered if this was the first time he'd been struck.

The first time always left you the most shaken, ruining your perception of self, crumbling the notion of your own strength.

Lith'mors stepped closer and the other took half a step back, but he wasn't as quick to scurry away as some might be when in this state. That period where the shock was still fading and the fear began to settle in, the questions of 'why' beginning to creep in and drive a man mad. Lith'mors hadn't been faced with such an expression in over a century, and even then, he'd only ever seen it on his own face in the mirror of his old bedroom. His father's face had simply held resignation, so used to taking the blame so he wouldn't have to keep asking why he deserved it, or question if he might not.

"I know I may look like a threat, but I assure you, I'm not. Let me help you with that..." Lith'mors reached out gently and whispered a healing incantation, a spell he was taught by an old Druid friend many decades ago. It required little magical prowess, but it was handy on his journeys. He traced two fingers down the others cheekbone, blue healing magic soaking into the right side of his face and fading out like a dying nightlight as the others eyes widened. The bruising on his face aged out as they grew darker before lightening to nothing, the cuts on his skin sealing themselves up.

The tiefling stepped back, reaching up to touch his face. His yellow eyes quickly looked away, gaze downcast as he cleared his throat.

"Don't expect me to thank you. You still have to leave."

"Where shall I go?" Lith'mors turned to the rain outside, gesturing to it as it continued to thunder down onto the stone ground of the city. "I'm afraid I'm not as hot blooded as you. I have nothing to keep me warm in this weather. The least I deserve is the shelter of a tarp, until it ends."

"You-" The tiefling scowled and huffed, scrubbing a hand down his face. "I can't have you here. He'll- this isn't my shop. I don't make the rules. He does." The mans irritation grew tenfold on his expression. This time though, it did not seem aimed at Lith'mors. "Wait here."

Lith'mors tilted his head and waited as instructed as the man closed the door and slipped away deeper into the tower. He turned to the rain and watched it, allowing time to pass as he entertained the idea of finding a wizard at the Elfsong who didn't entirely despise his kind. Old habits were hard to kill. The door opened once more and the tiefling offered out an envelop to him.

"I...I understand your struggle." He sounded like he was struggling to admit it. "The city isn't in favour of my kind at the moment either. Finding a place to rest your head isn't as easy as some might think in these parts. I have a brother and sister, Cal and Lia, who live on the edge of the slums - it'll be the shack with an orange cat statue by the door. Knock thrice, and tell them I sent you. They'll make a space for you, provide you with something warm to wear until your clothes are dry. The letter is for theirs eyes only, so I suggest you keep your nose out of it." He narrowed his eyes, daring him to disobey his only rule after his kind offer.

Lith'mors looked down at the letter.

"You're offering me your home?"

"It's...more theirs than mine. I just know they'd never let me hear the end of it if I turned a soul in need away after everything." He sighed, sounding exasperated and exhausted. "Take it or don't. It's not of concern to me. I just need you gone."

He hesitated before taking the letter and smiling softly.

"Thank you."

"Gods, don't. I'm a fool, letting a stranger into my siblings home." He looked away, tail flicking behind him in obvious frustration. "If you hurt them, I will use every drop of magic I have to incinerate you." His eyes glowed fiercely as he turned them back on him in a glare and Lith'mors nodded.

"I do not doubt it."

"And don't forget this." The tiefling pulled out an umbrella and Lith'mors smiled, taking it. He opened it up and glanced at the other man.

"What's your name?"

"Hm? Well, if you must know...My name is Rolan. I'm going to be an even more proficient wizard one day than I already am after my apprenticeship, so you should remember it." His voice gained a haughty lint and Lith'mors' eye gained an amused shine.

"I look forward to seeing the wizard you become, Rolan the Resplendent." He chuckled lowly and bowed his head. Rolan's brows jumped up before something akin to embarrassment coloured his expression, but he was so obviously pleased to be given such a title. The previous slouch of his shoulders had righted itself, the wizard clearing his throat.

"It seems only fair after an introduction to be awarded the same courtesy. If you would...?" He gestured for him to go ahead and Lith'mors chuckled, taking a step back towards the harsh rains.

"Lith'mors. Lith'mors Dekarios. A fellow wizard."

"Lith'mors...Almost sounds like 'little death'." Rolan remarked, a small furrow between his brows, like he was trying to decipher if his parents chose the name for ominous reasons or if drow were just that dramatic with baby names. The tiefling didn't have to know he chose the name himself.

"It does, doesn't it? A little death certainly helps my talents." Lith'mors chuckled and allowed the rain to pelt upon his umbrella as he stepped into the street. "I'll remember this, Rolan."

"I'd prefer you didn't." The door closed behind the other after a glance over his shoulder, disappearing within the tower.

Lith'mors wondered if the tower was his home, or his prison.

****

The walk was cold and windy, but the promise of shelter and warmth was enough to keep him moving. He managed to eye an orange cat statue just as Rolan had told him, the tiny shack in front of him barely a house by any means. More like a shed. He knocked thrice and waited, pulling the letter out of his robes. He winced a little at the dampness of the envelope. Hopefully it would still be readable. Magical ink was superior in the sense that it was smudge proof, but he wasn’t sure if all of them were waterproof.

“Rolan? You’re back already, what—?” A young tiefling woman looked up at the drow as she opened the door and frowned. “Oh. Sorry, I thought you were someone else…can I help you?” She tilted her head, looking rightfully suspicious. A drow at her door in this weather, at this time of night, in the outskirts of the slum of Baldur’s Gate? It was a recipe for trouble.

“Hopefully. Your brother, Rolan, he sent me.” Lith’mors bowed his head to her out of respect and handed the envelope over. “For your eyes only. He said you could offer me refuge for the night, if you’d be so kind. Lia, I'm guessing?”

“Oh - yes. That’s...me. Rolan - he really sent you?” Lia sounded surprised. “I didn’t think that bastard had it in him to be nice.” She joked, but he could tell from her tone that she meant none of it. She probably viewed her brother as having a good heart even if abrasive on the surface.

“Who is it, Lia?” Another man came up behind the woman, his face unmistakably kind, the expression naturally friendly. He was the kind of man who could not forgo a good deed when it was presented as an option. Lith’mors could tell. He'd met thousands of faces in his lifetime, and after living so long, you get a good grasp on one's character.

“A stray.” Lia chuckled. “Rolan sent him. Please - come in.” She stepped aside and allowed him inside. Lith’mors shook the umbrella off outside and set it aside by the door, looking inside the tiny room. There was a bed, a couch, and a tiny kitchen along the wall, as well as a bathtub in the corner. It was abysmally small. It was suited for one person rather than three, yet they still invited him inside with smiles on their faces.

“Rolan sent him? Well, he must be a good egg then." Cal grinned, hands on his hips. "That brother of ours never lets us down where it counts; doubt he'd send someone dangerous." He tacked on, for his sister's sake as she opened the damp letter.

"What’s your name?” He asked, his tone fairly polite, cheerful, even when burdened with extra company that they hadn't been expecting.

“Lith’mors. You may call me Lith, if you wish.”

“Lith. I like it. I’m Cal, Rolan’s younger brother - also the more handsome brother, if it matters.” Cal offered his hand to the drow with a playful smile and Lith’mors shook it politely, mildly amused by the other man. "By the Gods, you're soaked to the bone. The summer has been good to us on our journey, but I suppose a storm was to be expected eventually."

“I apologise, I’m dripping everywhere…” Lith’mors reached up for the clasp of his cloak and unhooked it. Cal took the coat from his hands before he could even look for a hook to hang it on, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it. I was about to give the old hearth here a shot, so hopefully you can warm up sooner rather than later.” Lia made an inquisitive sound as she read the letter before looking up at the drow.

"The tavern turned you away? In a storm like this? Bastards. Gods, I was really hoping to apply there for work..." She scowled.

"There's always the Blushing Mermaid! You always wanted to go there, right, sis?" Cal reassured quickly, patting his sisters shoulder as thunder rumbled loudly outside. His tail gave a nervous flick from side to side as he watched the ceiling, moving towards the hearth. There was a small pile of wood beside it.

"I guess so..." Lia didn't seem happy though, looking from her brother to the newcomer. "Guess we're not the only ones in this city that are getting the short end of the stick."

"If it helps, I think my kind probably deserve it, compared yours." Lith'mors spare her a small smile. "I know intimately why they should fear drow. I've been on the surface a century, and if I stumbled upon a fellow drow at night, I'd probably think they'd want my blood too."

"But you don't. I'll admit, I've never met a drow before." Lia beckoned Lith'mors towards the hearth Cal was attempting to light, but every roll of thunder was making the poor man jump and lose his concentration mid-spell. Lia sat on the arm of the couch and smiled at her younger brother.

"Don't tell me you're still scared of thunder, Cal. We're not eight anymore."

"It's not- It's just...loud." Cal looked embarrassed to admit. "I can't help it."

"Here, let me." Lith'mors offered and stepped forward to ignite the wood, watching it catch and burn. After that was done, he whispered an incantation, the sound of thunder and rain disappearing as the room was encased in a gentle silence.

"You..." Cal's eyes widened. "I didn't realise you were a wizard too. No wonder Rolan sent you our way."

"I thought he'd rather give any competition pneumonia." Lia smirked, arms crossed over her chest. "Do you have any clothing to change into?"

"Nothing particularly modest." Lith'mors admitted. "I don't typically have to worry about bunking with others these days."

"I might have something that'll fit you, if you don't mind wearing something less prestigious than your fancy robes." Cal joked, getting up to grab his pack. He fished through it and pulled out a plain green shirt, along with some plain brown trousers. "I'm afraid they're uh...pre-worn. We haven't had much of a chance to do any laundry just yet. We only arrived to Baldur's Gate late last night."

"I don't mind. It's just for a night." Lith'mors assured and accepted the clothes with a polite smile, placing them in the top of the couch. "I doubt there's any room for privacy?"

"Not...really." Cal grimaced and Lia rolled her eyes.

"I'm not interested in looking, so don't worry. Just hang your stuff on the edge of the bathtub when you're done." Lia made a point of turning away and Cal laughed, going back to his pack, sorting through it as Lith'mors undressed out of his sopping robes and boots. It wasn't as if he hadn't stripped in front of others before. He'd done so a million times in the past. He simply didn't want to make them uncomfortable, as his hosts.

He did wonder if they'd like what they'd see. He knew himself to be attractive, despite his ghoulish pallor and scars. His black glass eye could be quite strange looking, he supposed, even eerie - he hadn't exactly been a 'guest' to anyone since that incident, if he didn't count his past relationship with Gale. He stripped off his soaked underwear as well and slipped the trousers on, feeling the fabric stick to his damp skin in some places, but he was sure the fire would help with drying off. He slipped the shirt on, covering up the dark ink that expanded down each side of his chest like claw marks until it because two solid black streaks across his ribs that morphed into a raven between his shoulder blades. He'd had it done half a century ago, and it was the only ink on his skin.

He placed his things over the edge of the tub to hang and dry before sitting in front of the fire, watching the flames.

"So...how old are you exactly?"

"After a while, the years kind of blur. About...two and a half centuries old, I'd wager." Lith'mors hummed. "And you two?"

"Much younger." Lia scoffed. "Tieflings don't live nearly as long as the Elven races."

"I suppose you don't." He chuckled. "I like to think we elves only live so long because we take far too long to emotionally mature." Cal laughed, and Lith'mors found he was quite happy with himself at his little joke.

"Considering the elves we've met? Probably." Lia smirked. "So...where did you come from? Before Baldur's Gate, I mean. Were you...cast out too?"

"As much as I'd love to indulge your curiosities, I find I'm quite tired. I think I might rest. If you want to prod at me for answers about my person, it can wait until morning." He chuckled and Lia nodded, looking between him and Cal.

"Cal and I will bunk up tonight. We used to do it all the time as kids, so it's not a bother. Your Rolan's honoured guest, so...take the couch. Get some rest, Lith."

"I appreciate it. Thank you." Lith'mors smiled softly. The couch was closest to the hearth, so he'd prefer that to a bed tonight.

"Thank you for blocking the thunder out and lighting the fire. We could have a worse guest." Cal shrugged.

"Like Rolan?" Lia sat on the bed beside her brother, smirking.

"Rolan's not a guest. He's family."

"Oh I'm just pulling your tail, Cal. We all know Rolan's family." She rolled her eyes. "Even if he is a stubborn prick. I can't believe that bastard Lorroakan wouldn't let us stay in the tower. All that space, and he can't let us even bunk with our brother?" She scoffed. "Not that I'd want to. Rolan's always smacking me with his tail in his sleep."

"At least he doesn't tear up your leg with his toe talons." Cal rolled his eyes. Lith'mors made himself comfortable on the couch as the siblings spoke.

"Lorroakan...is that the master of the tower he resides in?"

"Hm?" Cal quirked a brow. "Oh, yeah. Rolan's got some fancy apprenticeship with the guy. He's been clinging to his letter for months. Always talking about the fortune he was going to make once he started working in the city, how he's going to be a true wizard once he gets the chance to actually learn from another studied in the Weave. Our mum could never afford to send him to some fancy academy when we were kids, so...He's really hoping to learn something under this Lorroakan guy. I'm proud of him, honestly, even if he can be a giant idiot sometimes."

"Oh yeah, I'd never say it to his face, he's arrogant enough, but he's got talent. I...really do hope this apprenticeship works out for him." Lia looked genuine, if a bit concerned. "He's been gushing about it for months, and I'd hate for it to fall through. If only because he's either super depressing or super annoying when he's upset. He's the kind of guy who will have too much wine and run his mouth off, or worse, do that 'I'm not crying' act while he complains about the wine going down the wrong pipe."

Lia rolled her eyes and Cal chuckled.

"Our brother can be a pain, but he's our pain. Lia doesn't exactly help his bad temper." He looked at her pointedly.

"He doesn't help mine." She scowled. "He's a stubborn, arrogant prat who always complains when we help him with anything."

"But we love him. And we know he loves us too. We're family; Rolan and Lia have their tiffs, and I make sure they don't curse or stab each other." Cal grinned, and Lith'mors laughed, finding the youngest rather charming.

"And what do you do when you're annoyed at them, hm?"

"Silent treatment." Cal smirked.

"Gods, and it fucking works too." Lia admitted, disgruntled, shoving her brother off the bed. Cal yelped and rolled off the mattress and onto the floor with a snort. "He literally will not say a word until we apologise. I think once when we were teenagers, he didn't speak to Rolan or I for a whole week!"

"And what exactly did you do to deserve that?"

"Well..." Lia looked away, scratching the back of her neck.

"I broke my arm because they couldn't stop bickering about how to get me out of a tree I'd climbed because they were fighting about something I can't even remember. So I fell out of the tree trying to save myself. Mum threw a fit, and Rolan felt awful." Cal laughed, like it was a fond memory, and perhaps to him, it was. "He's always had it in his head that he's supposed to protect us, since he's the oldest. He practically nursed me back to health himself."

"And you didn't talk to him the whole week after?" Lith'mors chuckled quietly. "How cruel."

"Nope. My arm bloody hurt! I only let up after a week because I couldn't stand those sad eyes he kept giving me." Cal army-crawled his way back up into the bed and tilted his head at the drow who was starting to relax, the room growing warm from the fire, the conversation like a storybook trying to lull him to sleep. "Do you have any siblings?"

"Ah...I do, but I haven't spoke to them in a long time. My blood sisters never bothered to heal my broken bones, I'm afraid." He joked, eyes falling shut. "The family I have now don't have a drop of drow blood in them. But I'm family, nonetheless."

"Sometimes family is just the people you stumble upon and can't seem to leave behind, huh?" Cal's voice sounded soft, understanding.

"Sometimes family is just a stubborn bastard you're too attached to." Lia muttered and Lith'mors chuckled, thinking of Gale.

"Yes. Sometimes...it's both." He murmured, slowly falling into a trance, exhaustion taking over him. He slept easy, with the fire crackling softly and gentle snores of his hosts only a few steps away.

****

The next morning was humid, the rain on the streets warming beneath the heat of the summer sun. Lith'mors awoke with a soft sigh, wiping at his brow as he shifted to get up. The tiefling siblings were still fast asleep, the barbs at the end of their tails both trapped under Cal's legs, the brothers face buried in the pillow and Lia's arm flopped upwards, wrist hooked on a horn as she slept, half sprawled out with a leg off the bed. He couldn't help but smile, a little endeared by the pair.

He slipped off the couch, quiet as a mouse as he checked on his clothes. The robes and trousers were dry, but the cloak and boots were a touch damp. With the heat outside, he was sure that was a blessing rather than a misfortune. He slipped out of the borrowed clothes and redressed himself in his own, tucking the tie of his robes into his pants when he heard a shift behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see Cal prying his sister's dead arm away from his horns, looking up at the necromancer.

"Are you leaving already...?" Cal scrubbed the sleep from his eyes and Lith'mors hummed.

"Thank you for your hospitality, but I won't burden your home much longer." Lith'mors picked up his bag of holding, reaching inside for his pouch of gold. He opened it up and placed twenty gold on the counter of the tiny kitchen.

"Oh, you- you don't have to pay us or anything for last night. All we did was let you sleep on the couch." Cal looked embarrassed, like accepting his money was shameful in some way. "We get it, being rejected by strangers, by establishments. It was an honour to have a guest like yourself, I swear."

"I have gold to spare, do not worry. This is simply how much I would have paid to rent a room at the Elfsong. It felt only fair after the kindness you both showed me." Cal fidgeted with his claws, picking dirt out from under them before he stood.

"How long are you staying in Baldur's Gate?"

"I'm not certain. I'm looking for a friend. Gale Dekarios - well, he calls himself Gale of Waterdeep."

"Gale of..." Cal frowned before his eyes widened. "Oh! I know him. I met him at Last Light, in the Shadowlands - that's where we were before we arrived in the city. He shouldn't be far behind. He's travelling with some adventurers, so I can't be certain."

"You saw him? Is he alright?" Lith'mors asked, concern blossoming in his chest.

"Uh, I think so? We didn't talk much, but he's a presence, that's for sure." Cal smiled cheekily. "Look, I doubt you're going to find anywhere else accepting drow travellers, unless you plan on renting a room in a brothel. Our place is small, but it's open to you, should you need somewhere to sleep. If I'm honest...I don't know how successful we'll be, finding work here. Rolan said he'd be happy to send us whatever we need from his own paychecks, but I know it bugs Lia to rely on him like that. Hells, it bugs me. But..."

Cal's eyes drifted to the gold on the counter, and Lith'mors could see where he was getting at. Cal looked a touch ashamed.

"We'd offer you a place here for free, really, we would, but...if you do have gold to spare, it would be much appreciated, if only to chip in for meals. At least - until we get onto our feet. We can't really afford to feed one right now, let alone three."

"Do not feel ashamed for asking for a fee. All things come with a price, as much as I appreciated your generosity." Lith'mors smiled faintly in hopes of easing the other man's guilt. "I greatly appreciate your offer, and I will keep your abode in mind should I not find my friend in the city soon. For now - the gold is yours. I wish you both the best." He bowed his head to extend his respects, a hand on his chest.

"Hopefully we'll see each other again soon." Cal offered a hand to him and Lith'mors took it, shaking it firmly before picking up his cloak and donning it once more, the hood obscuring his face.

"Give your sister my thanks, Cal. Until we meet again." With that, he slipped away into the streets once more, hoping to find Gale and hopefully, bring him home.

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