#why is jason so important all of a sudden

[rockingthegraveyard]

They way he just protects this little girl!!!

All the while he's just so fucking scared!

With three villains after him now, one completely losing interest because he's already scared out of his mind. Meanwhile everyone is just gossiping about Batman doing something to the Red Hood that might make him an easier targets and I'm stomping Bruce to death with my hooves.

[kitkatscabinet]

SNUGGLE BUG

Summary: The boys try to get out of bed, their partner has other plans.

Pairing(s): Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, x reader

A/N: unedited

DICK GRAYSON

Dick's always been a physically affectionate person, far more so than the rest of his family. It's why he'd been so ecstatic when he'd found you, a partner that was just as, if not more affectionate than him.

On more than one occasion his siblings had been given front-row seats to the snuggle show when they broke into his apartment, served them right really.

What Dick hadn't accounted for, was just how difficult it was to peel himself from your arms in the morning. Torture would hurt less he's sure.

"Ten more minutes," you whined childishly, burrowing your face into Dick's bare shoulder, tightening your arms around his torso.

"We've already said that three times." Your partner laughed, wriggling out of your hold but with far less strength than you knew he was capable of.

Both of you were fully aware just how quickly he could extracate himself from your arms should the neccessity rise. Technically speaking he did have to go to work, but surely it couldn't hurt to be a little late?

Though a quick glance at the hello kitty alarm clock on the bedside table confirmed he was already late.

"Dickie, can't you just call in? I wanna cuddle."

Fuck. How could he say no to that?

It wasn't like he really needed the money anyway.

His boss's ire is worth it to feel the way you smile into the skin of his neck, your warm breaths and little laughs as you lay tangled together.

So worth it.

JASON TODD

"You planning on letting me go anytime soon?" Jason grunted, though you know him well enough to hear the smile he's attempting to hide.

"Never," you mumble into the skin between his broad shoulder blades, the mattress slouching beneath the combined weight of you and your boyfriend.

Jason, undeterred by your attempts to drag him down, stands with a grunt. A cracking noise you know to be his knees rings out, and though you feel a little bad, you're unwilling to back down in your quest to get him back into bed.

Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend is built like a brick shithouse and is just as stubborn as you. Slowly, he manouevers around your small apartment all the while you hang off his back like a drunken Koala.

"Babyyyy," you whine petulantly into his ear, arms tightening around his neck in an attempt to only slightly choke him into submission.

Sighing, Jason starts to wander back into the bedroom. Just when you think you've won, he spins around, falling backwards onto the mattress and crushing you beneath his bulk.

In the minutes you spend winded, recovering, from being squished like an ant, Jason makes his escape. When you finally manage to come back to yourself you notice something incredibly distressing.

"Clothes! Why are you wearing clothes!" you wailed, sliding off the mattress and onto the floor in a pathetic slump.

Despite himself, Jason smiles at the sight, bundling you up in his arms before hopping back into bed with you. "Ok, you big dramatic baby."

Hey may have sounded put out, but the both of you knew he wanted to cuddle just as much. Besides, nothing was as important to him as you.

TIM DRAKE

He’d tried to be quiet. Truly, with years of training in the art of stealth Tim had intended to simply slip out of the bed and leave you to the sleep you needed.

He’d almost made it, both feet on the floor and the mattress no longer bearing most of his weight when all of a sudden a hand darted out, grasping his wrist.

Tim froze, slowly turning to look down at you with wide, guilty eyes. You're glaring up at him, sleep-addled face far more adorable than threatening, not that he'd ever tell you that, for fear of getting his ass beat.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" your voice is hoarse and gravelly from sleep but the threat is evident.

Mouth suddenly dry, Tim awkwardly chuckles, "Oh, babe, you're awake."

"Thanks to you," you grumbled sleepily, guilt and fear in equal measurements settling heavily in his chest.

"M'sorry, tried not to wake you but I gotta get to work on this case."

"No." You grunted, wrapping your arms around Tim's waist with freakish speed, nuzzling your face into his side.

He can't help the way his heart skips several beats at your casual affection. Tim's always been starved for touch, for the soft loving touch that you've always provided as if its as natural as breathing.

He should be used to it but despite the years worth of love and affection you've poured into Tim in the time you've spent together he still hasn't acclimated.

Tim knows, that you know, just how weak to your touch he is. It still doesn't prevent his resolve from crumbling when you refuse to let him budge, tugging him back down into your warm embrace.

"Good boy," you murmur against the skin of his neck, wrapping around his back like an octopus and trapping him against the expanse of your chest.

His skin runs hot at your words, mind numb to anything that's not your touch as he's eventually lulled back to sleep to the soothing sounds of your breathing.

[mostly-imagines]

So This Is Love

jason todd x fem!reader

aka you show each other what love is supposed to be like

4 in 1 blurbs

warnings: section 1: close-call panic attack for j, mentions of ptsd for j // section 2: implied sexual activity // section 3: mild angst w comfort // section 4: implied ptsd for j

He feels like his heart might burst through his chest.

The nightmare wasn’t anything unusual for him, but it did feel particularly vivid tonight. It was more of a memory than anything, though. That same one that plays on a loop in his head throughout the night the more he tries to push it away during the day. It was the last thwack of the crowbar that had him jolt awake in bed.

You shift in your spot next to him, opening your eyes to see his rattled state. If he’d been in a clearer frame of mind he would’ve lied to you. He would’ve expertly leveled his breathing and told you everything was fine and to go back to sleep.

But instead, he looks over at you with wide eyes, chest heaving and shaking like he might start hyperventilating at any moment.

You shoot up from the bed, instantly on alert. This isn’t the first time he’s had one of these nightmares around you, so it’s not hard for you to guess where this is coming from.

“Jay? What’s—what do you need?” You know better than to try and touch him unprompted right now, you’ve panicked enough yourself to know that sudden contact only makes it worse.

“I—I can’t, I—” Now he really looks like he’s about to lose all control of his breathing.

You sit up further, moving onto your knees. “Here, let me—can I see your hand?” you ask gently, holding your own out.

He extends it to you without question, a tiny act of vulnerability that he couldn’t have dreamed of doing in this state before he met you.

You flip his hand over, palm-up and start tracing lines over it in the moonlight. You’re looking at his hand quite intently like there’s something very important on it. It’s enough to make him question what the hell you’re doing. 

“I can read palms.” You tell him, simply. 

“What?” His voice almost breaks, like he’s right at the edge of tears. 

“Yeah, my friend taught me. I can tell the future and everything.” You look up at him, fingers not stopping their trailing. “Do you wanna hear yours?”

All he can do is nod.

You smile and start to inspect his hand carefully, tracing over calluses and a few tiny scars. You draw your finger across the short, deep line parallel to his fingers.

“This one…see the way it curves upwards right there?” He nods. “That means you’re very resourceful and ambitious. Like a leader.” His breathing starts to slow as he watches you, trying to focus on what you’re showing him in the dim light from the window.

“And this one,” you trace the line that curves downwards in the middle, “This one says that you’re strong and stubborn, which I can confirm,” he huffs out a laugh. It’s little but it’s genuine. “But it also means that you’re resilient. You’re built to overcome things and bounce back even stronger because of them. Which I can also confirm.”

He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. He takes in a deep breath, watching you draw patterns across the base of his palm.

The sensation soothes him in a way that he frankly didn’t know he could be soothed. He figures he usually can’t, except when it’s you. He tries to match your breathing, syncing up with you. If anyone else tried to get this close to him when he was on the verge of a panic attack they’d get punched, at best.

But you…you always know how to help him. He’s considered in the past that he did something really right somewhere down the line and you were sent to him as reward. He’d racked his mind for hours of every good thing he’d ever done, trying to find one that could explain your presence in his life. For anything that could explain why he deserved you. He poured and poured over every memory he could dig up but couldn’t find any good he’d ever done that surmounted to a single piece of the good in your heart.

There was a time when he would’ve thought—when he did think that you were only in his life to be taken away as soon as he felt safe. That would certainly be in line with previous experiences. But you showed him quickly that you have this way about you…it makes those loud thoughts in the back of his head shut up and just listen. Listen to your words, your breathing, your footsteps, your laugh…anything he could. Because it turns out, when he listens, he feels safe. 

He’s quiet for a long time, contentedly watching you work. He notices that at some point you’d stopped tracing the lines and began drawing designs instead. 

He breaks the silence after several minutes, softly commenting, “You don’t know how to read palms.”

“No, I do not.” 

But you continued to leave your invisible art on the palm of his hand just the same, both of you taking comfort in the sound of the other's breathing and the soothing feeling of each other’s skin.

The radio plays lightly in the background, surrounding your night with soft ambience. You’re working at the cutting board with tomatoes as Jason leans against the counter next to you, having just finished getting the pasta set up on the stove.

His hands find your hips, resting them there as he watches you work over your shoulder.

“Watch your thumb.” He comments when the knife gets a little too close for his liking.

You shrug him off, “I know how to do it.”

He eyes the way the knife stutters as you cut through the tomato, slicing through not very cleanly at all. “Doesn’t look like it.”

You ignore him, elbowing him gently in the abdomen. He’s joking, but he’s not. The skill level you’re displaying is only above Bruce and slightly below Tim, which is not great.

“Will you let me do it?” he asks you when he realizes there’s going to be no improvement. 

“Fine.” You relent with faux annoyance. 

You switch over to the stovetop, keeping a careful eye on the pasta as it cooks. It’s quiet for a moment as he works, chopping with much more efficiency than you had.  

“You didn’t have to stay here tonight, you know.” You say quietly, still intently watching the stove.

In spite of the music, your low volume does nothing to faze him as he continues his actions, “Why wouldn’t I?”

You stir the contents of the saucepan around. “Well, I know Roy wanted you to go out…”

“Not missing much.” He mumbles, opening up the above cabinet to get out plates.

You lull your head to the side, “Come on, he’s your best friend.”

Jason frowns. “He’s not my best friend.”

You turn your head towards him, “No?”

He meets your gaze, frown consistent. “No. You are.” He says it like he’s confused that you don’t know that. 

“Oh.” You smile, “You’re my best friend too.”

His eyes soften at that, a light smile gracing his lips. He knew that, and he knew you’d say it, but hearing it out loud just…does something to him.

You flick the stove top off, prompting him to on instinct reach for the Marinara jar and crack it open for you. He hands it to you and you accept with a smile, twisting it open the rest of the way as you turn back to the stove. The jar sputters as you open, spitting out sauce.    

“Oh, shit.” You hiss, when the splatter hits your shirt.

He takes one glance at the mess on your shirt and pulls his own shirt off his back. He’s tugging yours off just as fast, replacing it with his. You’ve barely processed what happened as he scans your body, eyes lingering on where his shirt stops at your thighs. “Can you wear this to bed tonight?” He asks, hands running over your waist.

You laugh, “Really?”

He meets your eyes, face serious. “Yes.” He squeezes your hip, “You look good.”

“In your shirt.” You say with a knowing smile.

“In my shirt.” He confirms.

You turn back to the stove to dish out the salsa, his hands skimming around your thighs as you do. He watches you as you work, though rather than watching your hands he’s fixated on the size of his shirt over you and how fucking good you look right now. 

“Or…” He sweeps his eyes over your legs before looking back up at you again. “Did’ya turn the stove off?”

You tilt your head at him, “I did…?”

He grins at you, lifting you up by your thighs til you’re a head above him. “Good.” He maneuvers you over to the counter, setting you on top. He brings your wrist up to his mouth to press a delicate kiss before dropping to his knees.

You’ve been laying in bed for at least three hours, bordering on sleep but never quite falling in. You and Jason had a little spat, though nothing insurmountable, it was still the biggest fight you’ve had to date. You’d tried going out (at night) to see your friend that was having a hard time, and yeah, you should’ve told Jason you were going. It was only five blocks, give or take, but in Gotham at eleven o’clock at night, it’s a risk to say the least.

You should’ve told Jason, you know. But he wouldn’t have let you go or would’ve insisted on putting hold on patrolling to accompany you. You always feel bad when he does that—people could be getting hurt somewhere because you needed your boyfriend to walk you down the street. Unfortunately, it didn’t matter in the end because he caught you red handed before you’d even made it a full block away. Of all the nights for him to come home early, it had to be this one.

He dropped down from the rooftop behind you and scared the absolute hell out of you, and you didn’t even have time to be relieved that it was just him because he was on you in a flash. 

“What the hell are you doing out here?” His voice was hard through the modulator, a rare tone for him to use with you.

“I just—my friend—” he sounded tired and angry, sure signs that he’d really not had a good night so far which was probably all the more reason that you shouldn’t have been out by yourself in the middle of the night.

“What are you—no! Go home. Now.” You would’ve, you really would’ve, but your friend called you crying about her boyfriend cheating on her again and she needed the in person support. 

“Ja—” You’d cut yourself off, “It’s down the street, it’s fine—” He dropped his shoulders in a huff and faced you dead-on. You didn’t need him to take his helmet off to know exactly how he was looking at you.

He dropped down and hooked his arm around the back of your legs, lifting you off the ground with no discernible effort. “Wha—”

He started walking before you were even fully planted on his shoulder, arm wrapping around your legs to hold you in place. 

“Hood! I am so fucking serious, put me down!” You swatted at his back and struggled in his grip, though in the back of your mind you knew it was a pointless effort. Even if you were a match in size, whatever mood he’d been pushed in was enough to guarantee that you had no chance. 

He ignored you, not even pretending that you were giving him any difficulty with your squirming. He marched you back down the block to your apartment, not stopping until you’re outside your door. He set you down in between him and the entrance, digging into his pocket for his key.

He kicked the door shut behind him, finally letting you go. He wordlessly grabbed one of his spare guns and two cartridges of ammo from inside the closet by the door and turned back to you with a firm stance. “Stay here.”

You immediately tried to push past him again, at that point more angry about him dragging you back here than about having to duck out on your friend. He stopped you, holding you by the arms, which led you to respond by raising your voice at him, “Jason!” 

But he didn’t waste any time letting you know how it is, “I will lock you in this fucking apartment. Stay. Here.” Him cursing at you like that was very rare and not a particularly good sign, so through your anger you’d made the decision that it was better to relent, for now. Your posture dropped and you frowned at him resentfully, a visible cue that you were giving in without you having to say it. 

He stayed true to his word and locked the door on his way out, though knowing you could easily unlock it from the inside. You’d trudged into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you.   

Now you lay on Jason’s usual side of the bed, partially because you do miss him, partially because the bed feels a little less empty when you can’t see all the empty space. You know he was just trying to keep you safe after what was probably a rough start to the night, so you feel less than great that you’d yelled at him.

Your dwelling over the memory is interrupted by a quiet creak of the bedroom door. You blink up at him blearily, “Jay?” You sit up, furrowing your brow. You didn’t even hear him come home. “What’s wrong?” You figure he must be hurt to come in here—it’s not unknown for him to sleep on the couch if he feels like he did something wrong or upset you.   

Your eyes attempt to adjust to the darkness, scanning over him for any injuries. He’s out of his armor and in his regular clothes which means he must have showered already. And you know from dozens of nights patching him up that he always tends to his injuries before showering.

This leaves you confused, as you look up at him, waiting for an answer. “I can’t…I don’t want to sleep without you.” He whispers, eyes on the floor. 

You shuffle back into your usual spot near the wall and hold your hand out to him expectantly. You’re still a bit cross with him, but you miss him too much to care right now.

It takes him a second to move, but he eventually lingers away from the door and makes his way to the bed. He takes your hand as he climbs onto the bed, letting go only when you lay down after him, staring up at the ceiling next to him. 

You weren’t entirely expecting him to wrap his arms around you and tug you into his chest. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’d assumed he would lay on his side and you on yours and that would be enough for him to fall asleep with. Instead, he tightens his arms and buries his face into the crook of your neck. You lay there in silence for a couple minutes, both thinking.

“You’re mad.” He mumbles into your shoulder after a while. You know he feels badly about the dispute, you knew it while it was still happening. As hard as he tries, he’s not very good at hiding his emotions. Not with you, anyways.

You shrug slightly. “Barely. I’ll get over it. This is more important.”

He picks his head up to look at you, “I love you. You know that?”

You wiggle out of his grip a bit, making him frown. You use the new space to flip over to face him, before placing his arm back around your waist. You peek up at him, looking him in the eyes, “I do. You know I love you. Even when we fight.”

He looks at you like he’s a bit thrown off by your words. “I’m sorry. It was just…it was a rough night…I—I’m sorry.” He tells you dolefully.  

You shake your head, frowning. “Don’t be. I should’ve texted you.”

“It—yeah. Please. I just worry about you.” He looks so sad and it makes you feel somehow worse.

“I know,” you whisper, “I’m sorry.”  

“Don’t be.” He kisses your forehead, not moving away after.

You feel like you can finally relax and your tense body doesn’t take long to slacken in his hold. Soon after, he does the same, both of you closing your eyes. You feel your heart slow and your mind starts to find a space of peace.    

Jason didn’t get it at first.

Honestly, he didn’t really realize that you noticed things about him that even he didn’t see.

Your neighbor was having their place remodeled and you knew there would be construction going on near your apartment all day.

Jason didn’t really care, planning to bury his head under the pillow and trying to sleep through it. You however, seemed very adamant about getting out of the apartment that day. You’d left hours before the construction crew had even gotten there, telling him it was a nice day out.

It was an alright day, but he let you have your way.

You held his hand as you walked down the street, looking into shop windows and commenting on things you think he’d like.

You led him into a book store excitedly, telling him about how the author he’d been binging had just published something new. He didn’t even know that.

You were browsing the sections, flipping through books as you went. You peered across the shop at a kid holding an absolutely massive pile of books, who was clearly struggling to keep them in his arms.

His mother tried to help him but he shook his head and strided away independently, albeit very slowly. The weight of the books though, did get the best of him, and you could tell by the quivering in his arms that he was going to drop them.

“Loud noise.” You said quickly, seemingly out of the blue. Jason turned to you, confused, before seeing the stack the books splat flat onto the ground. It was indeed a loud noise.

He tilts his head at you, though you’re still busy watching the little boy as he throws his head back in frustration.

“What was that?”

You look at him, “He dropped his books.”

“Yeah, I saw. But why—”

His question gets cut off by the kid bursting into tears, wailing. You turn back to look at him, your gaze getting caught by the new book you’d been telling him about. “Ooh!”

You grab his hand and pull him over with you, smiling widely when you have the book in your hands. The sight of you makes him feel so warm so fast that he forgets about the odd interaction all together.

A couple hours later, you sit outside a cafe and eat lunch together, his back to the road, you sitting diagnal to him.

He’s telling you about the shit Damian got in trouble for at school last week, holding your hand with his right hand and eating with his left.

“He thinks he’s not going to get expelled for pulling shit like that every other week, it’s ridiculous.” He says, tossing his napkin down on the table.

Your smile is wavers as your eyes move past his shoulder looking down the block before widening, “Car—”

The sudden noise startles him enough to make him visibly jump, hand flying to where his holster would be. He looks over at the fender bender, shoulders relaxing.

He turns back to you to find your eyes looking far more worried than they should. You seem to be scanning his face, looking for something and he’s about to ask you what’s wrong when it sinks in.

He does get scared by unexpected loud sounds, doesn’t he? He never really thinks of it until it happens, but his mind is trained to expect gunshots or crowbars making impact.

It doesn’t happen often, but it noticeably takes a little piece out of him when it does.

“You…” he tries, but falters. He’s not even sure he’s processing this right.

He’s never seriously tried to fathom that you love him half as much as he loves you, though love doesn’t feel like a strong enough word. He lives and breathes for you, you’ve become a lifeline he’d been stranded without for most of his life. But now you're here and you’re everything, you’re in his head all the time, in every emotion he feels.

He thinks he’s here for you, that he was brought back from the dead because of you. You can’t possibly understand how much his heart is full of you, he doesn’t understand it himself.

He knows you love him, he’s gotten that through his head. But he can’t get a grasp on the idea that he’s equally matched in the who loves who the most battle.

Do you really care that much about him to go out of your way to keep track of things that might startle him? He knows there’s a million things about you that are in the back of his mind at any given time, but surely you don’t operate that same way with him?

Do you?

There’s this burning in his heart that aches and it only gets stronger when he sees you looking at him like that. So genuine. With care, with love.

He squeezes your hand, “I love you. More than anything.”

The look on your face sinks back into that sweet, adorable look that he’s so used to and it makes him want to scream.

You smile that bright smile and it sends his heart rocketing into oblivion. “I love you.” You squeeze his hand back, “More than everything.”

He feels like his heart might burst through his chest.

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

I think another reason why I get rather annoyed when people hate on ToA Apollo is because how hypocritical their criticisms are.

I just saw a post talking about how great it is that Annabeth gets to show a lot of emotion, especially by crying. I also recall moments where she got frustrated or angry, and I found myself absolutely agreeing!

But then my thoughts turned to Apollo, another character who shows a lot of emotion.

But you know what he’s called for being frustrated, or upset, or for crying?

Whiny. He’s called whiny.

Apollo gets frustrated when he’s unable to perform something (archery) he used to be extremely good at. He’s upset that he can no longer use a bow correctly.

And people call him whiny for that. Apparently, those people have never experienced, let alone heard of The Gifted-Kid, something all Gifted-Kids (hello, tis me, Gifted-Kid since 4th grade RIP) can relate to Apollo over.

You were really good at something but all of a sudden you can no longer perform it as well? You’re not hitting your usual mark?

Well too bad, according to the fan base, you should shut up and not be so awfully whiny! It’s just archery!

(That was obviously in jest but you get my point.)

Additionally, Apollo never complains about important things. He complains about having to walk, but not the injury that’s literally turning him into a zombie and physically tormenting him.

That post really made me think about this, and then I asked myself; “Why? Why are people’s thoughts so different on Annabeth v Apollo showing emotion?”

It became apparent rather quickly, if you ask me.

Annabeth is a woman. Of course she should be able to show emotion! also maybe deep-seated sexism of ‘women are emotional’

Apollo is a man. And God forbid men show emotion I guess smh so also sexism

Because think about it. How many of the RRVerse male protagonists were allowed to cry? To be fully, and undeniably, upset?

I can only remember Frank crying on the plane after his grandmother’s presumed death, and Grover sniffling/getting teary-eyed in PJO. I don’t recall Percy, Jason, Leo, or Nico ever crying, or really having powerful bursts of emotion.

Yes, yes, Percy and Nico have both gotten mad and unleashed their fury upon someone, but that’s not what I’m talking about here.

I’m talking about letting them feel, letting them be emotional.

Not a burst of anger. But real, genuine character-driven emotion.

The fact that I can only name Frank and Grover from the previous two series is truly saddening.

Apollo gets to feel. To let his emotions flow freely. He whines, yes, but he also gets frustrated, he gets upset, and most of all he cries.

That all makes him a real character, someone people can relate to.

I’ll admit I’m a rather emotional person too. I have a quick temper, and more often than not the water-works come on real quick when I get upset. It’s a normal emotional response, but it can be difficult to work with, especially when you’re trying to stay calm.

Apollo is the first RRVerse protagonist to be allowed to have feelings— strong ones, even. And I can relate to that. There’s a reason why Apollo, Reyna, and Annabeth are all favorites of mine, and that’s because I see myself in them.

Annabeth is prideful. I can be too. She gets obsessed over her work. I do that too. Hates spiders? Oh hell yeah.

Reyna gave me someone to connect with over my sexuality. Ignore that Rick mixed what aro and ace are for a moment please She really gave my demiromantic self somebody to relate with, because the lack of aro rep is criminal. and no the Hunters are not aro rep

Apollo is emotional. He’s made mistakes and wants to do better.

Who wouldn’t see themselves in him? I certainly do.

And yet, he gets called whiny for having the literal rug pulled out from under him again and again, and he doesn’t even let himself complain over what he should, absolutely complain about!

Idk. I think there’s a lot to be said about how this fandom treats emotional characters, especially based on gender.

I guess this is all to say don’t judge a fictional character, because you’re judging a real person too.

And real people have feelings, you know.

[gothamite-rambler]

Dentists seem to be their one weakness

Yes, this is based of Tori and Trina when Trina got her wisdom teeth removed.

Cass, Tim, and Stephanie entered the department store, but Cass quickly glanced at her phone and noticed that a couple of people were missing.

Cass: Where are Dick and Jason?

Tim: Um, I guess they didn’t tell you. Jason had all his wisdom teeth removed, and Dick guessed the wrong number, so he’s taking care of him.

Stephanie (alarmed): He got… all his wisdom teeth removed?

Tim: Yep. The crazy thing about the Lazarus Pit is that the liquid grew his wisdom teeth back, even though Bruce paid to have them removed before Jason died. Apparently, the dentist convinced Bruce it was best to take them all out because of the damage already done to Jason's mouth when he went last week.

Stephanie: Why would they even tell Bruce—he's covering the payment for the removal?

Tim nodded, chuckling.

Stephanie (snarky): Let me guess, Bruce dipped for an important vacation or mission?

Tim (feigning shock): Oh my God, how did you guess? He even brought Selina along to 'keep him company.'

Stephanie (shaking her head with a smile): All to avoid dealing with loopy Jason. Poor, poor Richard.

Cass: Why wouldn’t Bruce want to take care of Jason?

Stephanie snorted in laughter, waving her hand for Tim to explain.

Tim: Who do you think came up with this system? He’ll provide a ride home—that’s it.

Stephanie: It’s deceiving as heck, but I admire it.

Tim rolled his eyes.

Tim: You would.

Cass (doubtful): Jason has been through worse pain; he can’t be that bad.

Tim and Stephanie exchanged a knowing glance, then resumed their shopping without discussing the matter further.

---------------------------------------

Meanwhile, at Dick's apartment, Jason sat on the couch, arms crossed, in pain from the novocaine wearing off, refusing to open his mouth for his medication.

Dick (holding out a purple pill): Take the pill.

Jason (with gauze in his mouth): No.

Dick (for the tenth time): I need you to take the pill.

Jason (muffled): Nuh-uh, they taste nasty!

Dick: We’ve been at this for thirty minutes!

Jason’s eyes darted toward the door, searching for an escape. In a sudden burst of energy, he elbowed his brother in the stomach. Dick fell to the ground but managed to grab Jason's leg before he could escape, knocking him down as well.

Dick (angry): You’re going to take this fucking pill—

Jason punched Dick in the cheek, sending him backward. In retaliation, Dick kicked Jason in the stomach.

Dick: We’re doing this the hard way, got it?

Dick grabbed his brother’s leg again and dragged him back. The brothers started grappling as Dick tried to pry open Jason’s mouth.

Jason (whining): I don’t want the pill!

Dick (shouting): You need it, or you’ll get an infection!

Jason flipped Dick across the coffee table, causing the irritated, tired man to growl in frustration.

Dick (enraged): I will break every bone in your body until you take this pill!

Jason: Catch me first!

Jason ran across the apartment as Dick chased after him. Hayley the dog and Austen the cat watched from a distance, amused by their antics.

Dick (pinning his brother): Take the pill! I don’t care what you say!

Jason: No, I don’t want it! They taste awful!

Dick: I’ve been dealing with this for five hours! Take it! Take it now!

With a final surge of determination, Dick held Jason down, pried his mouth open, and forced the pill down his throat. Jason screamed but eventually swallowed the pill, whining as he shoved Dick off him. Dick collapsed onto the floor, grumbling.

Jason rubbed his sore mouth, cursing the fact that his wisdom teeth had regrown since he’d been brought back to life. Dick calmly stood up, grabbed a glass of water, and lifted Jason by the shirt collar.

Dick: Here’s your water!

He tossed the liquid into Jason’s face, then dropped him back to the ground.

Jason: When my mouth is healed, I will break your arm, your leg, and all your teeth!

Dick: Awesome, I’m just going to lay down. Stupid number-guessing game!

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

YAY I can bother you again! \:D/ /jk

Anyways I consider asking my favorite writers stuff as my therapy, so here I go. (Sorry if this is sudden or traumatizing)

--------------

I feel so bad for saying this but I'm most attracted to any batfam member (adult obvi) when they are at their worst, Bruce and his pathetic angsty ass literally all the time? Let's make a Robin.

Angry Dick with a cheerful facade trying to just be Bruce's equal? Bra is unclipped.

Post pit Jason so angry and mercilless feeling betrayed (any iteration but mostly Arkahm knight) and vengful? Baby I'm yours.

Fanon Tim who is sleep deprived and stalkerish? I'll strip in front of any security camara in Gotham.

Stephanie feeling she needs to prove herself? Please let me top you.

Insecure about his powers Duke? Sudenly I'm a physical meta expert, please show me those abs.

Cassandra thinking she is only capable of damaging? Honey put your hands on me, I assure you it will be anything but unpleasant.

Damian after "accidentally" killing Dick? Hello my name is beloved!

Don't feel bad about it!! I'm just the same and there's nothing wrong with us!!!!!!!!!!

I mean, pathetic wet cats who would just curl in my lap and rant or cry while I indulge them and they become dependent on me and only me??

Battinson is my favorite Batman from the movies bc hello???? I mean I get it why people liked Bale but like???? A guy who's been traumatized for 20 years and got to the point of making an armour to fight against criminals unrelated to the ones that took his parents bc he got so sad that he reflected enough that he came to the conclusion that no one should ever feel like he did, and he would use his entire life to stop crime because people deserved better, even the worst criminals shouldn't die bc they can change or other people might be miserable if they miss him?? And he's ready to die for that!! He doesn't care!! And then he becomes a parent but he sucks at parenting bc he loves them but he never learned how to love?? BABY I CAN TEACH YOU

Jason at under the red hood or as Arkham Knight??? YOU CAN KEEP KILLING PEOPLE IF THAT'LL MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER BABE, especially if you keep me around bc we dated before you died/got tortured for months/years, kidnap me, love me, make me yours, I don't think killing your pops is gonna help you feel better, but no nagging will come from me I SWEAR

Fanom Tim being so neglected by his parents that he doesn't think his physical and psychological suffering is important, the fact that he obsessed over his childhood heroes, putting himself in danger, practically deciding that he was going to help them, not bc "I wanna be a hero and I can so I should be" but bc "I don't have much to lose, we all need you, and I want to help you, bc you're all I have!!!" and caring so much that he tries to clone his bff when he dies, and almost dies just to bring his dad and hero back, bc he cares about others more than he cares about himself??? Baby I'm right here!!!!

ANY Damian angst, Damian sad over Dick, over Bruce, over Talia, all while pretending he's just angry, I love him!! Damian that just wants to make them proud!! Damian that wants to be good!! To be on their level!! To be powerful!! To be good enough!! I love love love him!!! I'm with you no matter if you're a hero, a villain, or an antihero!! Damian Wayne, you will always be famous.

Dick swallowing his traumas, his emotions, breaking down at any opportunity, feeling responsible for everyone and destroying himself bc of it!! His relationship with Bruce never being quite the same after he became Nightwing, but they still know, deep inside, that they would come running if the other asked for help, but they never do. And Dick sometimes doesn't even know if Bruce sees him as his son!! And he's sad bc of it, but he can't show it bc how do you tell someone that?!?!?!

Steph thinking she's never gonna be enough, that she needs to prove herself, when this feeling never goes away, bc it's more about you than others? YES YES YES

Cassie!! Don't feel guilty about your past babygirl!!! It wasn't your fault!! You're just a victim!! They even took your voice from you!! Come spoon me and you'll feel better!!!

You're perfect Duke!! You're amazing and cool and handsome and there's nothing wrong with you!! You have the most awsesome powers ever!! Now come here let me look into those brown eyes and lets make out.

Seeing characters that are just so unreal but we can relato to, watch them suffer, feel joy in it!! I'm just like you and you're just like me! Be mine!!

This is about DC, but I'm an invincible, the boys and Marvel fan too. I'm drooling seeing Invincible and Rex Splode at their most toxic or weak moments! I love seeing homelander, soldier boy and the deep being so pathetic that they HAVE TO make it everyone's problem!! On my Winter Soldier brain rot I was constantly going over and over again on the same scenes watching this man be sad and miserable and covered in blood and not having autonomy of his own body and being alone!! Of course I got sad, but we can be sad together!!

Anyway, I love receiving fun and easy asks like that (I'm unreasonably happy that you called me one of your favs), I closed the asks bc I was just feeling I little overwhelmed with anxiety, college, future and the amount of requests I was receiving even if I knew I didn't have to write every fanfic idea people sent me and can just write what inspires me in the moment, be it something people asked, or some inspiration that came for me from another place

[lazycats-stuff]

can i request a scenario where the reader, who has been trained as a weapon for most of their life, struggles with expressing their emotions. The reader has been adopted by the Batfamily and is injured during a mission. They try to hide their injuries, but Dick or Jason (or both) find out and scold the reader for keeping it a secret. The reader responds by saying that they didn't think it was a big deal. it was a big deal. So it’s fluff and angst. The scenario can end with the Batfamily having a movie night after patching the reader up to help them feel better. If the scenario crosses any boundaries, please feel free to change anything necessary.

Don't worry, everything is well within my boundaries. And also, thank you for 500 followers! I still don't know how I managed that with what I call writing.

Summary: (Y/N) hides his emotions. After an injury, Jason and Dick can't stand it.

Warnings: medical inaccuracies, mentions of training before the batfam, Dick and Jason being good brothers, (Y/N) being emotionally constipated, Bruce trying to get closer to (Y/N), angst, fluff

Also, this is such a cool gif, (V/N)= Vigilante name

A weapon. That's all that he was taught. That's all he could remember. A weapon has no emotions, he remembers them saying. A weapon needs to fit in wherever they are. He was always told that his emotions don't matter, that the missions matter more. The goal was more important.

For a long time that's what he was told. His chances of fighting against his handlers are non existent. His chances at normal life were non existent.

That was until a mission in Gotham.

Batman and his birds somehow managed to capture him. (Y/N) still doesn't know how they managed to find him in Gotham. He blended with the shadows, just like he was taught. (Y/N) then realized why Batman was called the detective and why he was so respected and feared in their world.

(Y/N) also didn't expect to be adopted by Bruce Wayne, a man who turned out to be Batman. And more so, (Y/N) didn't expect to have choices. What to wear, what to eat, even when to wake up.

(Y/N) was never given a choice.

It felt nice knowing that he had some sort of control over his life. For the first time ever. And everyone introduced him to a lot of his firsts. Disney movies and cartoons, different kinds of candy since he wasn't allow sugar, books that are not literature classics and playing sports like basketball, football, but not American.

And it was great, but one thing that his new found family couldn't do was make him show emotions. (Y/N) still struggled with that. No matter how much he was told that it was fine and that it wasn't a sign of weakness, he couldn't do it.

One more thing they noticed how he was dismissive of certain things. They couldn't get him to rest, not even when he was sick. Not even the flu could keep him resting. Bruce had to put his foot down when (Y/N) said he wanted to go on patrol while he had a flu.

Bruce was going to maim the people who raised him in that way. Jason and Dick are going to help him too.

(Y/N) emotional unavailability hit a breaking point when he was injured. They were out on patrol and all of a sudden, they were ambushed by Deathstroke and some of Ra's assassins. (Y/N) see a fight from a mile away.

He still didn't know how Deathstroke managed to freelance for Ra's al Ghoul. Deathstroke watched him with his good eye, clearly interested in him for being a new member of the Batfamily. But there was also some sort of familiarity.

"Good job detective. You managed to adopt (V/N), a living weapon. " Deathstroke said, parading up on the railing. (Y/N) didn't say anything to that, but he could sense Bruce's anger rolling off him in waves.

Dick gripped his batons tighter and Jason gripped his gun tighter. (Y/N)'s eye were back on Deathstroke's and the two locked eyes once more.

" (V/N) is not a weapon Slade. " Jason jumped to (Y/N)'s defense.

" Well, the rest of the criminal world doesn't think so. (V/N) was known as the boogeyman, the one thing you don't want to find in the dark. " Deathstroke said, taking his blade out of his holster.

" I, up until now, never had a chance to fight against (V/N). But I will have a chance to kill him. " He finished, jumping over it. The other assassins followed his lead and jumped right after him.

(Y/N) had some experience with Ra's al Ghoul's assassins. Thankfully, Ra's had enough respect for (Y/N) and decided to leave him alone and not kill him. But it seems that the tables have turned on that matter.

The family tensed up and Jason pushed (Y/N) behind him a little bit.

" What does Ra's have with (V/N)? Why do you need his help to kill him? " Batman questioned, also moving to the front to cover (Y/N).

" It doesn't matter detective. What matters is that he is dead tonight."

Batman went after Deathstroke, not going to allow him to go after (Y/N). The young vigilante wanted to go after Deathstroke, but the two assassins jumped in front of him and (Y/N) was forced to deal with them. What a nuisance.

He fought alongside Jason, before moving to fight alongside Damian. Bruce and Slade still fought with all of their might. (Y/N) said screw it and jumped into the fight with Deathstroke and Batman.

He wasn't going to allow Deathstroke to win. And if he wants to kill him, why not give him a fair shot. Deathstroke's good eye locked with (Y/N)'s and (Y/N) went at it.

Batman wanted to stop (Y/N), but once (Y/N) got into a fighting mode, it was impossible to stop him. Bruce and (Y/N) worked together, but Deathstroke was just as equally good.

(Y/N) was thrown back with a nasty kick to the stomach, making him cough and spit out blood. He grunted, ready to strike back regardless. He was always taught to suppress the pain and just keep on going.

He dodged a punch before landing a punch on Deathstroke's mask, knocking off of his head. Batman swopped in and finished him off. (Y/N) got back into a fight Ra's assassins, dodging through their blades, helping others finished them off.

After it was all said and done, they called the GCPD to pick them up.

" Good job everyone, lets get home. " Batman said, gathering them all up.

" Thank God. We spent way too much time here anyway. " Jason said, already going out. (Y/N) couldn't agree anymore. He feels like something is off with himself. He could always tell, even before it hit him out of nowhere.

" Come on, (V/N). " Dick said, passing by (Y/N).

(Y/N) managed to sneak up out of the cave. He hoped that he was unnoticed. He knew that something was off. He knew that his ribs were fractured, but not broken.

He didn't want to do this in front of anyone and besides, he knows how to treat them. He has done it time and time again. He went to his bathroom and squatted down to get the tapes. Thankfully, it didn't hurt this really bad.

Then he opened the mirror and took a pill for the pain. He put a shirt on and was ready to go out for ice, but a knock on his door made him freeze.

" (Y/N)? We know you are here, you didn't get checked out by Alfred and you suffered a nasty kick to the stomach. " Jason said, voice muffled by the door.

" I'm fine, suit absorbed the kick. " (Y/N) lied, putting the tape away.

" (Y/N), I have a great bullshit detector and you just activated it. " Jason said, opening the door of his room, Dick following him. Jason and Dick looked at him before Jason pointed at the shirt.

" Come on. Off. "

" Nope. "

" (Y/N). Please don't tell me you are hiding an injury. "Dick said, hoping that it wasn't true.

" It's not a big deal. " (Y/N) mumbled.

" It is! I mean, we can patch you up! Is it a question of vulnerability? " Dick said, moving closer to (Y/N).

" Also, if it's the stomach or the ribs, you need to check it out. " Jason added, trying to deescalate the situation.

" Guys, I'm fi- "

" (Y/N), I swear to God, say that you are fine and I will manhandle you and patch you up roughly. " Jason said, rubbing his forehead.

" (Y/N), injuries here are a big deal. We patch each other up and that way we help each other out. I know it's not easy to forget the habits that were installed in you, Damian is a living proof of that. But you have to let others in. You are our brother and we love you. Some might not show it, but they do. " Dick said, putting his hand on (Y/N) shoulder.

" And when we patch each other up, we strengthen that love and trust. We protect each other and trust each other. And again, I know it's hard to go against everything that was installed in you, but this is a safe place. " Jason added, helping Dick with his point.

" Come on, lets get you checked out. " Jason said, opening the bedroom door.

Dick told everyone about (Y/N) hiding his injuries and suggested a movie night to make (Y/N) feel better. The others didn't like that fact. How come they didn't notice it before? How many times was (Y/N) in pain and they didn't notice?

" How about a movie night? Maybe a Harry Potter marathon? " Jason suggested, already taking the blankets and extending the couch that will make sure to fit them all.

" Okay, bring more pillows Tim. " Jason said to Tim.

" Somebody can bring some snacks. Some chocolate for (Y/N). " Jason said, arranging the blankets. Tim got up and started walking to the kitchen.

" Damian, you are going to give him talk later about hiding injuries. " Jason said, making Damian huff.

" Don't huff at me. " Jason warned. Tim came back with the pillows and put them all around.

Dick, (Y/N) and Alfred came back a few moments later. Dick was all smiles as he led (Y/N) to the couch. " Now (Y/N), lay down. "

" They know, don't they? " (Y/N) said, looking at the all smiling Dick.

" We told them, but they are not judging you. " Dick answered.

(Y/N) didn't say anything, instead he laid down on the couch, taking a blanket, covering himself. Bruce laid down next to him and the other followed quickly. Even Alfred joined.

Bruce laid down next to (Y/N), moving his arm to put it behind (Y/N). Then he put his arm around (Y/N)'s shoulder, bringing him closer to him. (Y/N) was a but startled, but relaxed into the touch. Even more, he leaned his head down on Bruce's shoulder.

Everyone noticed it and everyone was happy. Maybe he will be finally be happy and less emotionally unavailable. Maybe (Y/N) will be able to let go of the demons hunting him.

[casscainmainly]

Duke Thomas and the Robin Mantle

There's been some minor discussion about whether Duke counts as an 'official' Robin or not. While that discussion is interesting, I actually don't think it's the crux of the Duke and Robin issue. To me, the question is whether or not he should be Robin. And, to me, the answer is definitively yes.

This is purely my opinion, and I haven't read every single Duke comic so it's possible I've misread/missed things. Any Duke fans, absolutely feel free to add or disprove anything here!

The Changing Robin

The first thing to understand is that Robin, as a mantle, has shifted with each person it's been passed to. Tim's Robin doesn't mean the same thing as Jason's Robin, which doesn't mean the same thing as Damian's. A mark of a true Robin is the ability to shift the meaning of Robin by wearing the colours.

Duke absolutely fulfils this criteria. In fact, him and his We Are Robin crew are the biggest shift in the meaning of Robin since its creation.

Cover from We Are Robin #1. The phrase "We're not sidekicks. We're an army!" signals the shift from Robin as individual to Robin as collective; from Robin as tied to the singular Batman to Robin as a wider movement, a socio-political force. The last question, "are you ready?", is vitally important as well. Duke as Robin is meant to be different. He's meant to be non-normative, a groundbreaking turn in what Robin looks and feels like.

At the end of the first issue, a disguised Alfred (who started We Are Robin) thinks the following:

Alfred infuses the phrase "of color" with two meanings: the Robin colours, and People of Colour. By explicitly linking Robin to POC, the comic is suggesting that not only can kids of colour be Robin, but that they should be Robin. Robins of Colour are the "future of this city," and Duke is the vanguard of this future. It's no coincidence that the Robin before (Damian) and the one after (Maps) are both POC. Duke, however, is the Robin that gives the mantle an explicit direction towards diversity: him and WAR use Robin as a social movement, and in doing so transform the colours of Robin into a symbol for the diversity in Gotham and the world.

Robin as Collective

Duke doesn't change Robin alone. The point of We Are Robin is that Robin is a collective, and it's important that Duke doesn't start WAR (as much as people like to say he did). By joining late, the comic demonstrates that Duke is part of a bigger movement.

The Robin community represents POC solidarity, the necessity and ability of the oppressed to band together. Lee Bermejo ends We Are Robin's final issue with "stress on the word "we"" - Duke's arc, in one sense, is learning to rely and work with others (he initially mistrusts basically everyone). The WAR community is essential to both Duke's character development and his tenure as Robin.

So to have this page, affirming his loyalty and love for them, to be followed immediately by them being written out is... something.

Duke appears next in Batman: Rebirth, where Bruce gives him the yellow suit and tells him he's not looking for a Robin. As soon as he stops being Robin, the community around him quite literally falls apart. Izzy sticks around for a bit but fades into obscurity, Riko and Dax turn evil, Dre ends up in Arkham - all of these fates are antithetical to these characters and genuinely tragic.

Batman: The Secret Files: The Signal is possibly the worst Duke story in existence, but it's important to understanding why Robin!Duke mattered. Riko calls Signal 'Bat-Signal', highlighting his sudden reduction to a Batman acolyte. His friends turning on him shows how, by losing Robin, he also lost the community formed by WAR. In every way, his transition into the Signal was saturated by loss.

Robin Doesn't Need A Batman

Bruce giving Duke the Signal suit is borderline insulting. He already had an identity predicated on the fact that he didn't need Batman.

From Batman (2011) #45, Batman: Rebirth, and Night of the Monster Men. "Robin doesn't need a Batman" is an inversion of Tim's 'Batman needs a Robin' - in many ways, Duke is the opposite of Tim, who's rich, White, and whose Robin is the most focused on helping Batman. If Tim is the ideal Robin-as-partner, Duke is the ideal Robin-as-individual. His idea of Robin is not, and has never been, associated with Batman.

People who say Duke isn't an official Robin since he was never Batman's partner miss the point. He is Robin because he was never Batman's partner. That's what Robin means to him - a mantle free from Bruce and all authority.

"Batman is on the gargoyle. Robin... Robin is on the street." Robin is the person on the ground, who lives and belongs to the people. When Duke becomes Signal, this ground aspect - as well as his separation from Batman - is gone.

In this cover from Batman & The Signal, they gave him a Bat symbol and put him on a gargoyle. They erased every single part of his Robin philosophy.

The Original Robin

Post-We Are Robin, Bruce becomes the Batfam member Duke interacts with the most. Besides the insult of Bruce withholding Robin, this fact also strips away one of my favourite aspects about early Duke - he was tied to the Batfamily through the Robins (especially Damian and Dick), not by Batman.

It's Dick, the original Robin, who chooses him.

Dick recognises that him and Duke have a lot in common. He tells Duke in Robin War that he's "got it," and that he's a natural leader - Dick knows Duke has what it takes to be Robin, and explicitly endorses him.

Not only that, but when Dick sends Duke to jail (along with the other Robins, official and unofficial), he tells Duke that he "take[s] care of [his] family". He basically inducts Duke into the family then and there!

Dick's endorsement of Duke makes it more interesting that Bruce doesn't make him Robin. Despite Duke's disillusionment at the end of Robin War (dispelled soon after in WAR), the events in RW confirm that Duke can and should be Robin. Bruce not making Duke Robin is defying both Duke's potential and Dick's right to choose Robins.

Robin as Family

On the rooftop in Robin War, Dick tells Duke that Robin is about family. This is the fundamental connection between them both: Robin acts as the link to the families they've lost and gained.

For Dick, Robin keeps John and Mary Grayson alive, while also symbolising his connection to Bruce. For Duke, Robin is the intersection of three families: the heroic legacy of his parents, the tight-knit community of We Are Robin, and the newfound friendship of the Batfamily.

In Batman (2011) #45, Duke tries to give his friend Daryl a Robin badge. He says, "you and me, we came up together. We're fam[ily]." Even before Dick, Duke associated Robin with family, and Daryl implies in the next issue that Duke became Robin because of his parents' inclination to help. Signal, of course, also comes from his mom; but unlike Robin, Signal isn't a legacy mantle. As Robin, he constantly inducted people like Daryl, Riko, Damian, etc. into his family. As Signal, his circle shrinks immeasurably, until it's really only the Batfamily and the Outsiders if we're being generous. (Daryl also turns evil - a really unfortunate pattern for Duke side characters).

Lark and Conclusion

I'm going to end with this panel from Batman & The Signal #1, which is emblematic of the way DC has treated Duke and Robin as a whole. Bruce tells Duke that Lark is "too soft" a name. DC was probably debating between Lark and Signal, but it's telling what they went with. How is Lark too soft, exactly? How is it any softer than Robin?

By overtly dismissing the bird-like name, Bruce - and DC editorial, or whoever decided this - is definitively moving Duke away from Robin. And it's a shame. In Duke's transition from Robin to Signal, he has next to no agency. Bruce tells him he's not Robin, Bruce gives him the suit, Bruce tells him not to be Lark, Bruce gives him another suit. It's a stark contrast from his induction into Robin - though Alfred arranged it, he gave Duke a choice. Duke chooses Robin.

Duke being disallowed the Robin mantle is, to me, on par with DC stripping Cass of the Bat symbol during the New 52. The racism behind both these decisions cannot be overstated - both Cass and Duke redefined their mantles, and their mantles defined them. At least Cass' mistake has been corrected, and lots of writers and fans acknowledge how horrible that period was. For Duke, he was never given a real chance. And it's unlikely he ever will be.

This is not a knock against the Signal identity or any writers. However, it genuinely saddens me to think that all of this story potential - Duke's redefinition of Robin, his relationship to Dick, his connection to We Are Robin, and above all his ability to choose who he wants to be - has been neglected and cast aside. Even if they never acknowledge his role as Robin, I hope future stories centre him once again, because it's what he deserves.

[xoxochb]

Forbidden love trope with Jason grace plss

⋆·˚ ༘ * this love is difficult, but it’s real

warnings: renaissance era, I changed a bunch of things from the play because shakespeare was on something, one sexual insinuation, tons of dialogue, this honestly isn’t my best work

pairing: romeo coded! jason grace x juliet coded! reader (daughter of ares and aphrodite)

a/n: forbidden love trope? you know my literature loving ass is gonna do something romeo and juliet inspired

two households, both alike in dignity- just kidding that’s not where this is going

a crowded room, the sound of people talking around you. a banquet set up by your parents- unexpected but it’s typical for them, you assume they’re trying to set you up with another boy when they drag you to meet another prince- percy jackson wishes to take your hand in marriage and your parents agree with it. you don’t even know the man! small talk doesn’t get you places and that seems to be the only thing this boy knows

“lovely weather today” he says

you lean your head against a pillar “I suppose”

“what do you enjoy in your free time?”

“many things”

“such as…?”

he won’t give up will he?

“reading, painting, not very much”

he nods his head “I adore sword fighting, but often swimming when I’m not”

your eyes scan around the room as he continues on about his many hobbies, nothing you care about, although when you think about it you don’t care about percy himself. boys, boys, boys! all mean at this absurd party, why can’t you chose a husband on your own? your eyes stop when they meet electric blue ones, yet covered by a mask, who is this strange boy? you must get to know him!

“percy?”

“yes?”

“could I be excused for a moment? I have to use the restroom”

“yes that’s quite fine, when you get back I’ll tell you about my great adventure over mountaintops”

you give him a half-smile before rushing off. would a mysterious look be okay? or should you approach the boy immediately? yes! let him approach you first

you take a drink from a waiter and lean your back against the nearest pillar. a mysterious look will do you good in this situation

waiting, waiting… will the boy ever talk to you?

“quite a boring banquet don’t you think?”

you turn around, the blue-eyed boy stands behind the pillar, you move to the opposite side with him

“my parents want me married off to that boy” you point to percy across the room who seemingly found another woman to torture with dreadful stories

“do you want to?”

“want to what?”

“marry him?”

you shake your head “who are you?”

he hesitates “why don’t we ditch?”

“I can’t do that”

“why not?”

“my parents will be furious”

“so what? they’re busy anyways”

you sigh “only for a little while”

he takes your hand in his and you allow him to drag you outside the palace to the garden, flower filled courtesy of demeter

“what is your name?” you ask

“If I tell you will you kick me out?”

“why would I do that?”

“you’ll realize”

“so what is it?”

he removes his mask “jason grace”

oh…

“oh my gods, son of zeus! I should have known. what are you doing here? our fathers will kill us!”

“I had to see you” he takes both of your hands in his yet again

“why? what is so important that you had to risk your life?”

“I’m in love with you” he puts your hands over his heart, you feel his rapid heartbeat

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ve been pining over you for so long, I came here to ask for your hand in marriage”

“oh my gods oh my gods, we can’t marry and you know that!”

“please. In secret even would be fine”

“how the hell do you want me to secretly marry you?”

“I have a friend who will be willing to do it”

“don’t you think this is sudden?”

“would you rather marry that other boy?”

“I suppose not…”

“then will I see you tomorrow morning?”

marry the son of poseidon who shows interest in every woman, not loyal, and talks a lot, or the son of zeus who has supposedly been in love with you for years and risked his life to see you?

“meet me at my bedrooms balcony, seven sharp” you point to your balcony

“I won’t be late” he gives you a heart-stopping smile

before he runs off he places a kiss on your lips, quick but lovely. you await his next arrival

⚔️

you hate waking early in the morning. you were the one who arranged the time though and in a half an hour you would be getting married to a boy you barely knew, a handsome one though you wouldn’t complain

you followed your morning routine like usual, careful to stay silent as you assume most of your family will be asleep after the long party the previous night

should you dress fancy since it’s a wedding or casual because it’s secret? makeup or natural look? too many decisions to make! you put on a simple pink dress, nothing too much but still good enough for a wedding. a few touch ups with makeup and check the time on your wall clock 6:58 it reads. he would be here any moment. you rush to your balcony and catch sigh of the blond boy walking up to your castle

you manage to climb over the railing to grab hold of the vines to climb down, nearly impossible to do with your dress on. when you (finally) make it to the bottom you hold up your dress and run to the boy

out of breath you put your hands on your knees but not before holding up a singular finger to indicate you needed a minute

“do you run much?” asks jason

“not at all”

you go back to regular posture as your breathing slows back down “let’s get married now, shall we?”

“we shall”

you loop arms and go on your way to- wait… you don’t even know where you’re going. hope it’s not dangerous

when you arrive you see a worn down house, belonging to who? you don’t know

“the person that’s going to marry us lives in there? Is he certified?” you inquire

“I don’t think so. he’s cool though”

when you walk in the house your greeted by a hyperactive boy, assumed to be around your age

“I’ve been waiting, what took so long?” the boy says

“long walk” jason shrugs “anyways- y/n this is leo, and you already know her so…”

leo beams “great! let’s get this ceremony started!”

not much of a set up, not much of a big ceremony. It was a simple ‘say your vows then kiss let’s get this over with’ for reason one because leo was not legally certified to do this and two because you knew zeus had many eyes and took forms of exotic animals (he could be anywhere- this horrifies you)

not only was leo not certified, he additionally didn’t know how to officiate a wedding. a bunch of nonsense about love spilled from his mouth and you couldn’t find it in you to care anymore

“you may now kiss the bride! but not in front of me, please don’t do that in front of me”

you give him a concerned look. and mouth and mutter an ‘okay’ with a slow nod of your head. he was weird wasn’t he?

once you exited the house you got your chance for a kiss- to cement your marriage. however jason has other ideas

“why don’t we go to your palace to consummate our marriage?”

[auroreliis]

Hiya,can you please write a fic for yandere batfam with a teen reader they ‘adopted’ who’s really mean to all of them and tries to ignore them all together but the second a bug/animal is coming near them they cling to whoevers nearest? Thank you💕

Platonic Yandere!Batfam

Summary: You're very mean, unless there is a spider to kill.

CW: no warnings

(not edited or proofread)

It was early in the morning when a scream echoed through the manor. The residents immediately recognised the voice and after figuring out it belonged to you, they rushed towards the source.

Tim had dropped everything he was doing just to be your knight in shining armour. He had been watching you through the cameras in the manor and knew you would need saving. It just so happens that he had found a few bugs in his free time. They looked intimidating enough, so he brought them back to the manor. Of course, he would never tell you that. He obviously knew everything about you, that includes your fear of insects and spiders. When he had first discovered it, he was more than ready to use your fear against you. He would never harm you, of course, but a little fear can work wonders.

His plan was for him to come up to you, kill the bug, lift you off the kitchen island and carry you to his room, where you would thank him with cuddles. That was his plan, at least. And he was so excited about it, too.

So you can imagine how dumbfounded he was when he entered the kitchen only to find Jason, crouching with a frying pan in his hand, hitting the same spot on the floor over and over again. "What are you doing?", he spoke, disbelief and irritation evident in his tone. "Just doing my little sibling a favour", Jason said, not turning to Tim.

"Again. Hit it again. You have to make sure it's dead", you spoke, your voice shaking. "Trust me, I know dead when I see it, and I say this pancake of a bug is definitely dead", Jason spoke, attempting to ease your nerves.

Tim was disappointed that he wasn't fast enough to save you.

He just stood there, zoning out.

After delivering a few more hits to the unrecognisable spot on the floor, Jason turned to you and decided it was enough. "Can you carry me?" Your sudden question suprised him. He froze for a second before composing himself. "Yeah. Sure. Why though?", he asked, trying to appear nonchalant. "I saw a centipede earlier, but I lost it. I don't want it to crawl up my leg. Please." Your request made him snicker, although he obviously agreed. Who wouldn't?

Tim watched in agony as Jason carried you around the house bridal style. That was supposed to be him. He planned it all out. He made all the preparations. Why was Jason getting the prize? He went to his room with a pitiful expression.

It was around three in the morning when Tim re-entered the kitchen. He was still working, but he also couldn't focus. He almost had the chance to make you like him and Jason ruined it. He walked around the large kitchen island you were standing on earlier that day, when he suddenly stepped on something. It was quite large and after a few moments, it started buzzing. Tim tried his best not to scream or wake anyone as he sprinted back to his room.

A few people had learned very important things that day.

You learned to spend more time in Jasons room, because it was so clean that no bugs could possibly be in there.

Jason learned to start cleaning his room twice a day, so you would feel safe, knowing there were no bugs in there.

Dick learned that he should spend more time at the manor, in order to see cute scenes, like you clinging to Jason.

And Tim learned to never walk around the manor barefoot again.

[onceuponanotherassumption]

The matters of the heart are complicated (Jason x Reader)

Masterlist

“Stop ignoring me.”

“I’m not ignoring you.”

“You aren’t even looking at me, Jason.”

And as if to dismiss her point, Jason stops fiddling with his phone to gaze at her with a blank look on his face. It takes (y/n) aback at the uncharacteristic way he was acting but she doesn’t let that discourage her. Midway through their relationship, she learned that it was best to talk out their problems as soon as possible.

“Please stop doing that.”

“I’m not even doing anything,” (y/n) grits her teeth in frustration before deciding to finally do something. She takes a seat on the couch next to Jason, swiping his phone away from him and pocketing it. That surely gains his attention.

“(y/n)...give me my phone back.”

“Not until you tell me why you’re mad.”

“I’m not—“

“Yes you are, ever since we left the gala you’ve been oddly quiet.” She frowns, watching for a break in Jason’s expression but he still remains stoic. “Did I do something to make you mad? Is that it?”

“It’s nothing important, now give me back my phone.”

“It is important if you’re acting like this. Tell me what I did wrong.”

“Look, I’m not in the mood to talk about this right now. Stop interrogating me already.”

“Then stop lying to me. What went wrong? You were doing fine at the gala then all of a sudden you tell me you want to go home already even though Bruce told us not to—“

“You know what? Fine, keep my phone. I’m heading home.”

“W-What? You’re just going to leave...?”

Jason doesn’t answer back, and instead grabs his keys from the coffee table before heading to the direction of the front door. Before he could get a hand on the knob, (y/n) moves in front of him, blocking him from leaving the apartment.

“You’re not allowed to leave, not until you tell me why you’re acting like this.”

“Fucking—you wanna know why?! That asshole friend of yours kept feeling you up and you didn’t even give a damn!”

“What?” A quizzical look appears on (y/n)’s face, trying to recall what happened hours ago. Her friend was naturally clingy, but she knew the way he acted in her presence was within his best interests. “Jason, he’s been a long time friend of mine—“

“Well he certainly doesn’t see you as one! Not with that hand of his constantly squeezing your hip.” Jason grits out. “I love you but there’s only so little patience I have to see my girlfriend getting fondled right in front of me.”

(y/n) was just about to refute his accusation but quickly stops herself. What happened in the gala was still fresh, and the memory of her friend’s arm around her waist plays out in her mind. She remembered the subtle feeling of his hand slipping lower for a few seconds before sliding up again, but she was too engaged in their conversation to reprimand him.

“I’m sorry...I didn’t realise that was happening, if I did...”

“No, it’s fine. I know that. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be taking my anger out on you, I know you didn’t intentionally let that happen.” He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, trudging back to the couch. (y/n) kept quiet this time, preferring to stare at the floor instead of meeting his gaze.

“Hey, hey, none of that. Look at me.” Jason gently pulls her over to sit next to him.

“I’ll have a talk with him tomorrow about this.” She says with finality, a determined look in her eyes. “Promise me one thing though?”

“Anything.”

“Let’s do a better job with the communication thing, hmm? Don’t shut me out...please.”

“I promise to be more transparent with you.” Jason tucks a stray hair behind her ear, eyes locked with (y/n) with a look that made a pleasant warmth bloom inside her. “I won’t shut you out.”

[rafyki]

Goth! Nico/ Surfer! Percy AU Part 9!

I'm back!! I hope you missed me as much as I missed posting lmao This chapter wasn't planned honestly, I wanted to write directly their beach 'date', but then this happened and I decided it's gonna be one more chapter before the date - sorry xD I bet y'all are tired of this slow burn, but i promise they're gonna get together soon!

(I hope the texting format is easy to read here on tumblr, but otherwise you can read it on AO3)

Enjoy~

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

You can also read it on AO3!!

~~~

Percy: Ehi, Nico! You have the afternoon shift tomorrow, right? Let’s hang out at the beach again after it?

Me: Percy, hi!

Me: So you really do know all my shift hours, huh?

Percy:  What can i say, Im a great obsever

Me: Huh, are you?

Percy: For important things at least

Percy: so is that a yes?

Me: of course

Me: No need to tell you what time I finish, I guess

Percy: nope 

Percy: 20ish right?

Me: yeah

Me:  see you tomorrow?

Percy: yep

Percy: see you tmorrow! 

Nico had been rereading the conversation for the best part of the previous night, and the first thing he had done after waking up had been checking his phone once again to make sure he hadn’t just made it up in his dreams. He knew the short exchange by heart now, yet he kept staring at it, reading it over and over again. Part of himself was afraid it would disappear if he so much as locked his phone and looked away for a second too long.

Their chance meeting at the beach three days prior still felt like a waking dream, like he had hoped so much for something like that to happen that he had started hallucinating. He wondered if hallucinations always felt so real, if they would let you to feel the water splashing against your legs, the warmth of the setting sun on your skin, or the pressure of a hand holding yours, the touch soft and warm, everything and more Nico had let himself dreaming about for the past months. The way Percy had smiled at him had been so beautiful that Nico’s mind probably wouldn’t have been able to conjure something like it if it hadn’t been real.

Still, it didn’t feel real.

Leo and Jason would have probably blamed the feeling on Nico’s self sabotaging tendencies. You’re allowed to have nice things, Nico, they would tell him.

Was he? Could he let himself hope that he could really have this? His heart was going berserk in his chest at the sole thought.

Percy had stopped to talk to him at the beach, Percy had taken his hand and held it while walking in the water, Percy had memorized his schedule and asked for his phone number; Percy had texted him first and asked him to hang out again.

For important things at least.

Percy had said that. Important. Nico wanted to scream.

His phone's sudden ringing almost made him jump out of his skin. It was Jason’s number, but it was Leoìs voice that greeted him from the other end of the line.

“Hi there, goth boy, so how ya feeling for your date today?”

“Not a date, Leo, shut up- and why are you calling me with Jason’s phone?”

Of course, Nico’s traitor heart stumbled on the word date. It wasn’t, and he couldn’t simply assume otherwise, it would make things awkward, wouldn’t it? And so far nothing had ever been too awkward with Percy - Nico surely wouldn’t be the one to make everything between them crumbling down for expecting too much.

“Not important-”

“He lost his phone”, came Jason’s voice. “Again. By the way, hi Nico”.

Nico rolled his eyes at their antics. “Hi Jason”.

“Anyway!”, Leo jumped in. “How are you feeling for your ‘not date’ then?”

“I hate you, Valdez”, Nico groaned, letting himself fall backward on his bed. His heart didn’t seem willing to stop running like crazy anytime soon, his hands were sweating from anticipation and tension.

“You’re freaking out, aren’t you?”

He put his phone on speaker just so he could set it aside, take a pillow, and scream into it.

Apparently, his suffering was extremely funny to Leo, because his obnoxious laugh came as a reply. “I’ll take it as a yes”, he said.

“Nico, I’m sure everything’s gonna be great”, Jason said. “You’ll have fun, get to know him better, and then-”

“Then you’ll finally date, hopefully”, Leo finished.

Once again, Nico’s heart skipped a beat and did a little dance in his chest. He threw the pillow aside. “What if I make a fool of myself though?”

“Well, your boy has made a fool of himself plenty of times already, hasn’t he? I mean, he knows your schedule by heart”, Leo replied. “So I’m sure you’ll be fine”.

Jason laughed at that, and after a moment Nico joined him.

~~~

Nico expected his shift at the kiosk to last an eternity, stretching on and on to keep him apart from finally seeing Percy in the evening. And, truth be told, the first couple of hours were just like that, long and boring and way too slow.

It changed when his phone notified him of a new text.

Percy: i got work today so im coming to teh beach latr 

Percy: ill meet you at the kiosk!

Nico’s heart was starting to become extremely good at doing somersaults in his chest. There were no customers at that moment, so he had time to reply, his fingers shaking just slightly as he wrote back.

Me: alright, I’ll meet you here then

Me: What time do you finish at work?

Percy: What, you wana learn my scdheule too?

Me: It's only fair, isn’t it?

And so, they ended up texting back and forth for a while and, after that, the time seemed to move faster, the day shining brighter, and Nico’s customers’ smile felt just that tiny bit more honest.

Nico’s internal list of the things he knew about Percy kept growing longer by the minute; he liked to text and wasn’t afraid to double text, his spelling mistakes were so atrocious they left Nico smiling and feeling so endeared it was almost ridiculous.

Nico’s nerves eased with every new text, his heart now beating out of excitement and anticipation more than fear and anxiety. The evening couldn’t come fast enough.

Me: Why are you spending so much time texting me instead of working

Percy: Why, arent you enjoying it :( 

Me: not what I said!

Me: i wouldn’t be replying if i weren’t enjoying it

Percy: :D 

Percy: im on break anyay

Percy:  what abot you, youre also on your phone instead of workin

Me: there aren’t many customers today

Me: no one to buy the same old blue drink

Nico put the phone aside for a moment, hiding his smile behind his hand and hoping that no one would think he was a creepy psycho smiling for no reason. He had every reason to smile. Flirting was easier through text, even if he kept spending minutes on end before forcing himself to press send. The downside of it was that it was way more difficult to avoid it when Percy flirted back.

Percy: aww you miss me?

He wrote and then deleted a reply a few times. He was lucky Jason and Leo weren’t there today to see him being like this or they would have made fun of him for the rest of their lives. 

It was strange. Nico was feeling embarrassed, but in an easy lighthearted way, and that made him feel just that little bit braver. Maybe it was because Percy was willingly spending his break texting him instead of whatever else he usually did; maybe it was the fact that he had the feeling Percy was feeling just like him.

He wrote a reply, looked at it for a few seconds and pressed send before he could overthink it too much.

Me: Maybe

Just then, before having the time to send a second text for damage control, a customer came and Nico had to put his phone down to serve them. His heart kept hammering in his chest the whole time, and his eyes kept stealing glances at the phone, hoping to see it ring. It was taking a little longer than usual for Percy to reply, and Nico didn’t know if it was because he had scared him away or flustered him too much.

When it did notify him of a new series of texts, he was still busy with new customers, and it took him all of his willpower not to make them wait while he checked his phone.

Finally, he thanked and said goodbye to the last customer of the queue, he moved so fast he almost stumbled on his own feet; and when he read what Percy had written, his heart was ready to jump out of his chest and start dancing on the counter.

Percy: me too

Percy: maybe

Percy: goot thign were seeing each other in a couple huors

Percy: cant wait

He read the words, reread it again and then again, once again feeling like they were nothing but a pipe dream. He blinked, and they were still there when he opened his eyes again. 

Maybe he really could let himself hope this time.

Me: me too

Time definitely couldn’t pass fast enough. 

[pluckyredhead]

hi! i'm new to comics and i got in through reading your fics and wayne family adventures. i've since started reading more of the mainstream verse and i realized that most comic fans consider wfa to be totally fanon. you're one of the few i saw that disagrees. would you mind elaborating a lil on why? i'm too new to really form an opinion either way but i'd like to know your's!

(also yes i really did stalk your blog back years worth of posts i'm sorry! 😭😭)

Aw I love this! Welcome!

So I think it's really important to be clear on definitions here:

Canon means it's part of an official text. It's literally in a comic (or book or movie or other property) published or licensed by DC.

Fanon means it's made up by fans. That doesn't mean bad or good, it just means that it comes from fandom and is not part of the official text.

Wayne Family Adventures is an official licensed comic by DC, so by definition, it cannot be fanon. That doesn't mean everyone has to like it, but it's not a fan comic. It's an official DC product. It's not fanon.

Now, WFA isn't part of the main DCU canon. It takes place in a separate universe. The Jason in Batman #138 and the Jason in WFA are not the same and they are having very different experiences. (And I'm sure the Jason in WFA would be grateful if he knew.)

But that's no different than a comic that takes place in an alternate universe, like Dark Knights of Steel or DCeased, or a movie like Blue Beetle or a show like My Adventures with Superman. They all take place in their own universes, but all of those universes are canon. None of them are fanon.

What I think most people mean when they say WFA is fanon is that WFA draws on tropes and characterizations that are popular in fandom. Which...yes, absolutely. This is on purpose, and honestly, it pisses me off when people complain about it. (Not you, anon! Your question was lovely, you just triggered my unskippable cut scene of dialogue. Sorry lol.)

Wayne Family Adventures is probably the single best idea DC has had in the 20 years I've been reading comics. (The second best was the kids and YA graphic novel lines.)

I just checked, and WFA has 1.3 MILLION subscribers. That's more than every floppy comic starring Batman sells in a month, combined. It's more than literally any superhero comic has sold in decades - in this century! The combined strips have over A HUNDRED MILLION VIEWS. That is bonkerstown. That is a readership like DC hasn't seen since the 1970s. That is unparalleled success, and it's introducing characters like Kate Kane and Duke Thomas to a whole new audience.

Now, WFA was clearly designed to appeal to Batfans who were active on social media and fanfic sites like AO3 and Wattpad, and Webtoon readers. The readership of Webtoon is mostly young and female. Fandom as a whole is mostly female. The writer of WFA is female.

And maybe I'm not being fair here, but when I see people dismiss WFA as "just fanon," I always catch a whiff of "It's not a real Batman comic. It's a girl comic for girls."

I have spent the past 20 years begging DC (and Marvel, DC is not alone in this) to see women as a viable audience - as their largest potential growth audience! I have watched in dumbfounded frustration as they ignored the juggernaut success of Raina Telgemeier and Ngozi Ukazu and Alice Oseman running rings around the NY Times bestseller list and counted a 50k shipment here and there as a resounding triumph. I have literally seen them throw out survey responses from women because "those women had an agenda." (This is a true story. 2011 was rough, y'all.)

And all of a sudden, they gave us a comic actually catering to women and young people and fandom, and they put it on the most popular, current, modern platform for comics availably - and it's brilliant. It's smart and funny and stunningly drawn and every episode makes clever, inventive use of the scrolling format. They FINALLY gave us a girl comic for girls, and it's a masterpiece.

And yes, it riffs on fanon concepts. It also has its roots firmly in mainstream DCU canon. It references deep cuts. CRC Payne and StarBite know their shit. Jason Todd being a bookworm may be a fanon staple, but he does plenty of reading - including Jane Austen - in the 100% canon mainstream DCU comics.

It's not going to be for everything, because nothing is. It's completely fine if you don't like WFA. No one has to read it or enjoy it. If you're into Batman for the darkness and the crime and the ongoing plotlines and the angst, WFA won't be for you, and that's totally fine!

But to finally, finally be valued as a reader by DC, to have them do something smart and innovative and so, so well executed, and have the exact people they made it for dismiss it out of hand because Bruce has a "World's Okayest Dad" mug or whatever? Yeah, that chafes.

[green-eyedfirework]

Dick sighed as he dragged himself up the stairs, eyes dry and gritty.  He hadn't slept properly all week and he finally, finally had a weekend off.  All he wanted to do was sink into bed.

There were several downsides to not being a corrupt ass-kisser in the Bludhaven PD, and one of those was that his captain hated him.  He was pretty sure Redhorn would love if he expired of exhaustion, but Dick wasn't going to give the bastard the satisfaction.  He joined the police to do good, not take money and look the other way, and he wasn't going to let anyone bully him out.

Unfortunately for Redhorn, Dick was also damn good at his job, and overbooking his schedule was about the only thing the man could retaliate with.

It took him three tries to get the key in the lock--he was tired enough that his vision had started to go hazy, and every second he stayed slumped against the door increased his chances of falling asleep on his doormat--and he yawned jaw-creakingly wide as he stumbled inside.

Bed.  He was so close to sleep.  He didn't care if it was eight in the morning, that was what blackout curtains were for.  He was just musing on whether he should choke down a microwave meal so he wouldn't wake up feeling like his stomach was trying to digest himself when he saw the guy with the gun.

Dick, three steps into his living room, froze.

The guy with the gun smiled.  Before Dick could reach for his own gun, or drop to the ground, or let his sleep-deprived instincts catch up to the danger of the situation, his exhaustion-addled senses noticed the second guy with the gun.  And the third.  And the fourth, though this guy didn't have a gun pointed at Dick, he was just casually poking around Dick's bookshelf like breaking into a cop's home to examine his interior decorating was something he did on a casual Tuesday.

Was it even still Tuesday?

"Detective Grayson," the silver-haired asshole examining the pictures on his bookshelf said, not even turning to look at him.  "Can I trust you not try anything stupid, or do you need to be disarmed?"

Dick's fingers twitched to his gun, but he didn't think he could unholster it and fire before the other three did, not with his current level of exhaustion.  He mentally mourned the loss of his planned sleep.  "Depends on why you broke in here," Dick said evenly.  There was no cover between him and the door, so he couldn't even head out that way.

"If I meant to kill you, Detective Grayson, you'd be dead," the man said, finally turning around.  "Come in and have a seat."  One ice blue eye glittered dangerously.  "Get comfortable.  You look like you've had a long day at work."

Dick's heartbeat was pounding in his ears, everything abruptly clearer with the sudden surge of adrenaline.  He did as he was told, crossing the room slowly and sitting stiffly on the sofa, never moving his gaze from the tall, broad, one-eyed man smirking at him.

"You have a lovely family," the man motioned to the pictures.  "They seem very happy."

Dick resisted the urge to curl his hands into fists.  "Is that a threat?" he asked as evenly as he could.

"A threat?" the man looked amused.  "You're certainly very paranoid, Detective Grayson."

"One of the biggest mob bosses on the East Coast is holding me at gunpoint in my own apartment," Dick said tersely, "I think it's justified."

Slade Wilson shrugged, as if to say can't argue with that.  He turned back to the pictures, as though he was studying them, and Dick went tenser.

Bruce was rich, he reminded himself.  They had security.  Tim was resourceful, Jason was destruction on two legs, and Dick pitied the poor fool that tried to kidnap Cassandra or Damian.  They would be fine.

"No," Slade said finally, "it isn't a threat.  Merely an observation.  Family is important, isn't it?"

Dick forced his racing heart to slow down.  "What are you doing here, Wilson?" he said, just shy of a growl.  "Cut it with the cryptic bullshit."

Slade arched an eyebrow, but Dick didn't take it back.  He was already being held at gunpoint in his own home, he wasn't sure his situation could get much worse.

"I came here," the mob boss said, "because I have a case for you--"

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"No," Dick repeated, keeping Slade's gaze even when he felt like flinching back at the dark scowl on his face.  "My loyalty isn't for sale, Wilson.  I'm not going to take your money, and I'm not going to be your lackey."

Instead of being met with a bullet to the head, Dick was met with, shockingly, a smile.

"I'm not asking you to do anything other than your job, Detective Grayson," Slade said, retrieving an envelope from his side pocket and tossing it onto the coffee table in front of Dick.  "There's been a kidnapping--"

"Go to the station and file a missing persons report," Dick said evenly, not picking up the envelope.

"Unfortunately, circumstances require discretion," Slade said, expression darkening again.

"And half the department is in your pocket," Dick argued.  He’d found that out the hard way when he’d been forced to watch as Grant Wilson strolled out of the interrogation room with a smirk.  "Why did you decide to come to me?"

Slade was silent for a stretching moment, and then he sighed.  "There's a traitor in my organization," he said plainly.  "I don't know who it is, and unfortunately, that means there's very few people I can trust.  In the absence of those whose loyalties may have been shifted," Slade pushed the envelope closer to him, "I decided to find a cop that was loyal to his job."

Dick kept Slade's intense gaze for a moment longer before reaching for the envelope.  "I'm not going to do your dirty work," Dick reiterated, pulling out the papers inside.  "If this person hasn't been kidnapped and doesn't want to be found, I'm not--" his words trailed off into empty air when he saw the photos.

A young girl, not yet a teenager, scowled at him in the first picture, hair the same color as the man she was sulking next to.  The second, third, and fourth pictures showed the same girl, but tied up and gagged, her surroundings dark, looking up with wide, bright eyes at the camera.

"My daughter has been missing for five days.  They've increased the ransom demand twice."  Slade's expression is a mask of fury, but Dick can hear the desperation in his voice.  "They're hurting her."  Dick withdrew more papers, all the evidence that Slade had apparently collected.  "I don't know who was involved, and I'm not going to risk my daughter's life on it.  Can you find her or not?"

Dick looked again at the first person.  'Dad & Rose' had been scrawled on the back of it, and despite the sulking of the preteen, Dick could see her leaning into her father's side.  "Yes," Dick said quietly.

"Great," Slade said.  "You have twenty-four hours before the ransom drop."  Wait, what?  "And if anything happens to her, Grayson," Slade's expression was colder than ice, "I will ensure you share her fate.  Do you understand?"

Dick swallowed and nodded.

~#~

Twenty-four hours.

The first thing Dick did once all the criminals were out of his apartment was set a timer.  The second thing was to scarf down a microwave meal as he glanced through the evidence and wrote down preliminary thoughts.  The third thing was to take a nap, because Dick was going to get nowhere on fumes.

Eight hours later, Dick felt marginally more human.  Unfortunately, he was also a third down on his time limit, and most of his previous notes were utter gibberish.

Dick took a deep breath, put aside the indirect and direct threats of a mob boss that had broken into his home and held him at gunpoint--Dick was moving after this--and thought about this logically.

Rose Wilson had been kidnapped five days ago.  The fact that she hadn't been found already meant that the mob's resources couldn't find her.  Slade said that he hadn't contacted anyone in the police department, so police resources hadn't been exhausted.  However, if Dick treated this like any other missing persons case, he ran the risk of tipping the kidnappers off and getting a bullet in the head.

Dick checked the time.  Fifteen and a half hours left.

Maybe--maybe he was looking at this the wrong way.  Slade had mentioned several offhand things--if they were all connected, that would give Dick a starting place.

So.  Assume there was a traitor in the Wilson Family.  Assume that they were working with corrupt cops.  Assume that they had used police resources to snatch Rose Wilson.

Dick needed to get to the precinct.

He made it all the way to his building entrance before halting in the street.  There was an expensive black car parked--illegally--right in front of him.  One tinted window rolled down, and Dick met Grant Wilson's unamused expression.

"Get in," the other man ordered.

Dick wanted to point out that he didn't work for the younger Wilson, but getting into a shootout on a busy street seemed like a spectacularly bad idea.  Plus, the clock was ticking.

"Where are you headed?" Grant asked, voice terse.

"Precinct," Dick responded warily, but all Grant did was nod and pull into traffic.  "What are you doing here?"

"What do you think, asshole?" Grant gave him a dirty look.  "You spent nine hours in your apartment.  Did you find Rose?"

Dick decided not to tell him that he'd been asleep.  "Your father told me I had twenty-four hours until the ransom drop," Dick pointed out.

Grant jerked the car to a hard stop and turned to glare at him, eyes burning.  "That's my baby sister that's missing, you fucking pig, so you're going to get one thing straight," he hissed, not noticing or not caring that Dick's hand had immediately gone to his gun.  "If there is so much as a single hair missing from her head, I'm going to make personally sure that you regret it for the rest of your miserable and agonizing life, do. you. understand?"

Dick met his vitriol with artificial calm.  "Was that supposed to incentivize me to work with you?"

Grant growled, actually growled, and Dick remembered that antagonizing the guy rumored to have a hair-trigger temper was not the smartest of plans.

"Look," he interrupted before Grant could speak, "I said I'd help, and I swear, I will do my best to find your sister.  Which means going to the precinct to follow up on my lead, unless you think that being threatened is a better use of my time."

Grant's glare didn't diminish, but he did start the car again.  Dick sat there in silence and wondered how the fuck he was supposed to explain this to anyone.  Sorry, Internal Affairs, I was briefly held hostage by the Mob, but instead of reporting it, I investigated one of their cases and continued working with them.  Redhorn would have a field day if he learned about this.

"So what's your lead?" Grant asked tersely.

Dick decided not to point out that they were going fifteen miles above the speed limit and answered the question.  "I'm going to check if any of the cops have been investigating you guys recently.  If you're worried about a traitor, I thought it was a good place to start."

Grant didn't seem to think so, between the mutters of "Jesus, did Dad tell you everything?" and "it took you nine hours to come up with that, genius?" but he dropped Dick off a street away from the precinct.

"Fifteen hours," he reminded Dick with a glower as Dick slipped out.

The precinct was marginally more tolerable.  Dick made up an excuse that he needed to check something for a case, and it looked like most people bought it.  Redhorn, of course, continued scowling at him from his office, but Dick ducked quickly into the records room, where it didn't take much to sweet-talk the sign-out list from the records keeper.

It turned out that there were a lot of people in here looking up records for cases Dick was pretty sure they weren't working on.  But checking the sign-out list for the last month, there was only one who'd checked the Wilson Family open cases.

"Well, I always knew you were a bastard," Dick murmured, staring at Redhorn's name.

[aezuria]

*ੈ✎ always an angel, never a god.

—not strong enough, boygenius

note: hey guys i think you were a lil TOO happy after that last jason post 😇😇😇

content: jason grace x reader; oneshot, 1.2k

warnings: ANGST, violence, character-centered???, allusions to suicide, probably inaccurate death cause i spoiled myself by reading it but i was too sad to check again

jason was tired. so tired. he felt like he was sinking into quicksand as he walked, back aching as if he was atlas, holding up the sky. his fingers twitched, residual sparks of lightning flickering up his arms. they stung. they had never stung before.

he marched straight to his lonely cabin, not stopping at leo's bunker, or aprhodite's cabin—not even yours. he was never too tired to say hi to his friends before. he was never too tired to say to you before. what was wrong with him?

the door shut behind jason, providing him an escape from the ever-busy camp. it gave him relief to slump to the floor, his legs giving out on him as if they were just holding out until he was alone, where prying eyes couldn't reach.

he simply sat there, hugging his knees to his chest like he did whenever he wanted to hide from the loud orders he was given as a child, or so he remembered.

his perfect mask was breaking, his perfect attitude slipping. his nails dug into his arms, the bite of pain clearing his foggy mind. he wouldn't allow himself any time to wallow in his feelings. jason forced himself up and headed into the bathroom.

he wanted nothing more than to take a warm bath, to soak for a while and rest his aching muscles. maybe slide a little too far down so his head dipped below the water, and stay there until it did its work.

but he couldn't, and he wouldn't. he got into the shower, the water ice against his skin. his body screamed in protest, lungs tightening as he took a deep breath at the sudden drop in temperature. that was sure to keep him out of his own head.

and yet, like everything he felt he did recently, he failed. jason couldn't sleep, his mind racing with feelings he tried so hard to shove down. emotions impeded with his ability to work, and if he couldn't work properly, then he was useless. his brain didn't seem to care; it laughed in his face as it threw thought after thought at him. because maybe, in the back of his head, he did feel useless.

it was always percy this, percy that. percy got to be praetor while jason got whispers of "you could never be him." was there something about him that was so forgettable people couldn't wait to replace him? was that why his memories were gone? because nothing about them was so important for even him to hold? was that why, even though little by little they returned, he still had blank spaces in the days he used to recall? maybe if he worked a little harder, he'd be as good as him.

and it was quite unfair of him to feel this way, he believed. after all, percy was a good guy. it's not like they were on bad terms— they could even be called acquaintances, friends if you were looking on the bright side.

thinking of friends brought him to you, the only one he had memories of from the start. you were his best friend, his one and only. you stuck with him, explaining who he was and where he came from as best you could. he remembered how you had painted him like an angel, but he looked at the gaps of your brushstrokes and saw that he was hardened like a double-edged sword. he remembered how you glorified the structure of the romans for his sake, but he read between your praise and found a yearning to be free.

and that's why when you slipped from his waiting heart, he let you go. he did not wish to anchor you when you were meant to be among the clouds, soaring like a bird (yet, why was it that he found you with the son of the sea instead of him?)

"i'm going on another quest." jason smiled weakly, doing his best to put up a brave face. but gods, was it hard. he wanted nothing more than to feel your warmth in his arms; maybe it would soothe the way his heart clenched every time he was reminded of the way he'll never be yours.

"another?" you frowned. he hated the way his eyes were drawn to your lips like lightning to metal. "didn't you just get back from one?"

he shrugged, trying to laugh it off. "yeah, well, someone's gotta do the work around here. i'm the best man for the job." he sounded like he was trying to convince himself. once jason realized your expression wouldn't change, his shoulders sagged. he looked more like a kid than ever, bearing the weight of the world only the gods could lift. "look, i'll get back soon, okay?"

"swear it?" you held out your pinky, your eyes never leaving his face. you offered him a grin, trying to lighten the mood. "if you don't, i might have to get you back for that."

jason chuckled, linking his pinky with yours. "i swear." but it wasn't enough, he needed to hold you. just one more time. he wrapped you in his arms, an aching feeling in his chest that wouldn't go away. his heart twisted even more once he felt you hug him in return, your hands stroking his back like you always did when he was anxious.

he felt you mumble a "be safe" into his shoulder, and he willed himself not to cry in front of you. he gave you a firm nod and pulled away, taking one last second to admire you before he had to leave.

"see you soon, jason." you offered him one last smile.

"goodbye, y/n." why were the words so final on his tongue?

it was because he knew, from his sun-streaked hair to his sore heels, that he would never return. he had the foreboding feeling that something terrible was going to happen, and he'd rather have it happen to him than anyone else.

it was for the best, he thought. he'd die knowing he saved his friends than give up. isn't that what his whole life was for?

jason felt the arrow pierce his heart, three more succeeding it. it was strange. though he bled and bled until he laid in a bed of blood, it felt like a cruel but relieving escape from his emotions. it eased his limbs like a drug, made him feel high on the tang of silver in his mouth. but his heart still fought to beat, to live, to remember. memories of leo and piper, percy and annabeth, frank and hazel. reyna and camp jupiter, chiron and camp half-blood. jason remembered you. how your smile was the light of his life, how it was the last time he'd ever see it again. but he'd die happy, the image of your face branded into his eyes as they shut. when the spear pierced his chest one last time, he felt the weight of his mind disappear back into the sky from which he came from.

(but his mind was light from the holes in his story that he could never truly fill.)

[ragnarokhound]

hi honey bunches. do you want to drive up to the lake for the weekend? I’ll grill us some fish

anyways. Obsessed with how Werewolf Jason would absolutely know Tim had the hots for him (bc sniff sniff you smell DIFFERENT Tim) BUT Tim would think he’s being oh so sneaky by not blushing or whatever. Tim is convinced Jason has a secret (and he has it figured out, Jason is a werewolf) but does not realize the actual secret is that Jason wants to have dirty dirty werewolf sex wit him.

hey sugar pie. i would love nothing more uwu i'll bring the cooler and the camping chairs, lmk if i forgot anything before we go, okay? if you still want to go that is - I know it's been ages since you asked :')

We are once again on the same wavelength here lol one of my favorite varieties of miscommunication/misunderstanding is when a character has TWO secrets actually, and the big secret that character A uncovers about character B IS in fact, the objectively bigger secret. And yet.

In a typical played straight scenario ala any high school supernatural romcom, this would play out like:

Tim, alone with Jason during the full moon: i know your secret Jason. Jason, trying to hide his werewolf transformation: o-oh? What makes you say I have a secret, Tim? Tim in his cheerleader fit, oblivious to the sharp teeth Jason suddenly has: you LIKE me, don't you! Admit it! Jason, hiding behind his stereotypical high schooler letterman jacket so Tim doesn't see his sudden muttonchops: hahAHA - ohhh, you got me! What, uh, what gave it away? (CUE AUDIENCE LAUGH TRACK)

Which is fine! Love a good old and highly dramatic 'you don't know i'm a mOnStEr because you're hung up on something as banal as normal high school things like who like-likes who, but my secret is so much worse than that...' It's very fun. Heehee. Hoohoo.

But I much prefer it played this way - secret number one: Jason is a werewolf, and no one is supposed to know. However comma, his second BIGGER secret: the massive crush on Tim Drake that he's been ignoring. Poorly. No one can know. It would be devastating. DEVASTATING.

And Tim, of course, is highly suspicious of Jason because of how obviously guilty he acts around Tim, and because Jason is so consumed with 'i cant let him know that i have a massive crush on him' he isn't paying as much attention to keeping his werewolfism under wraps lmao. So Tim, smelling a secret, correctly assesses that Jason has been hiding that he's a werewolf. But when Tim finally confronts him about it -

Jason: oh, that Tim: ?? what do you mean ""Oh That,"" exCUSE me, what did you THINK i was suspicious of Jason, desperate to change the subject: Nothing Don't Worry About It, Hey Why Do You Smell So Weird Suddenly Tim, who had been hiding his own crush on Jason pretty well he thought: What Are You Talking About I Don't Smell Like Anything Shut Up Jason, leaning closer with Intent: now that i think about it, why have you been wearing so many smelly colognes lately? You got something you been trying to hide from my keen werewolf senses, Red-- (Note: I am imagining this taking place in a tight space like a broom closet or whatever that they got shoved into to hide, and everything boils over in deliciously tropey fashion. Feel free to imagine what comes next uwu)

I love subverting tropes, and I love that tongue-in-cheek play of 'yeah, yeah secret werewolf we've all seen it - how about those interpersonal relationships tho?? spill the tea queen 👀🍷' because I love when something that seems like it ought to be huge or life-changing isn't nearly as important or dire to a character as whether their feelings are requited. At this point for Jason, being a werewolf is Tuesday. It's his crush on Tim Drake and what he feels for him that's anything but ordinary uwu