#“quick question no reason are you actually from gotham?” | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

suzukiblu · 5 months

Note

Been looking through your assorted aus page and the link for "weird amnesia Timberkon"/"for the game young" is broken (as in, the tag does not appear to exist). It seems like you put a lot of time into that page so I figured you'd want to know (and also selfishly I am very interested in finding out what weird amnesia timberkon entails)

WHOOPS, my bad, messed that one up. Should be all fixed on the page now, though! Oddly I only seem to have one teeny lil' snippet up for that AU, to my surprise, could've sworn I'd posted more? Sooooo as thanks for catching that busted link for me, have a nice big chunk of the WIP behind this read-more, hah.

So Superboy is apparently an idiot. Then again, whatever, if Bernard were an indestructible telekinetic half-alien he would probably also not worry too much about looking subtle in his civvies or maintaining a secret identity, and also it's been a while since he's heard anything about the guy doing any active superheroing anyway so maybe Superboy is just assuming that the entire planet somehow forgot about his teen heartthrob superhero posters and all those close-up high-def publicity shots of his very public face and whatever? Oh, and also that one time that he literally fucking died to save the whole freaking world and the big ol' memorial statue. Statues? There might've been two, come to think.

So maybe an idiot.

A very hot idiot, though.

Well, whatever, Bernard figures, taking a sip of his boba tea and idly watching Superboy check out his boyfriend from the far side of the cafe like he's a sad puppy in a shop window who just wants a little love. Tim is looking at his phone and appears oblivious to Superboy's existence.

Bernard assumes Tim's doing that thing where he pretends to not be Robin, for obvious reasons. That thing remains adorable but is getting increasingly less convincing as time goes on. Like, he really doesn't know what Tim actually thinks he thinks he does in his downtime? There is no logical reason for a civilian to be either as ripped or as scarred as Tim Drake is, but part of being Tim Drake's boyfriend is pretending to be oblivious to those facts and also never questioning his flimsy excuses to run off at a moment's notice or disappear during a crisis or whatever else.

Bernard tries to figure out how to politely extricate himself from the situation for long enough for Tim to go check up on Superboy, because Superboy very clearly needs to be checked up on. Unfortunately he went to the bathroom like ten minutes before the guy walked in all sad-puppy so the obvious option is out, and Tim knows damn well he isn't gonna call his parents for anything less than a full-on emergency, and his friends it'd be weird not to just text, and . . . fuck, he doesn't know. He needs an angle here.

"I'll be right back, babe, just gotta duck into the bathroom real quick," Tim says, glancing up from his phone with an apologetic smile. Bernard relaxes slightly. Okay, that works, thank you, Bat-planning. Superboy can just follow Tim back to the bathroom and they can do whatever superhero sidebar they need to do back there.

But then Tim gets up, gives him a peck on the cheek, and heads back to the bathroom, and Superboy . . . doesn't follow him.

The hell?

Bernard represses a frown and takes another sip of his boba. Superboy continues not to follow Tim. He just sits there at his own little table with his completely untouched drink, looking like the saddest puppy that has ever sadded.

Bernard is mystified.

Are they having a fight, maybe? Is Tim ignoring Superboy because of that, not the secret ID stuff? That seems weird and not very Tim-like, fighting or not. But Superboy's in Gotham and came into the cafe after they did, so he can't be the one avoiding Tim. But also he didn't follow him to the bathroom when presented with the very unsubtle opportunity to do so, so . . . what the hell?

Weird.

Bernard takes yet another sip of boba and keeps watching Superboy. Superboy seems oblivious to said watching, but he guesses the guy is pretty famous and is a very public superhero and is always doing impressive shit and all that, so he's probably used to being watched. Oh, and also he's stupid, stupid hot.

Bernard cannot imagine being this used to attention, but apparently Superboy is. Bernard, of course, is not a punk idol superhero built like a porn star and a supermodel had a threeway with a bodybuilder. So like, that particular bit of mental dissonance probably makes sense and all. Life experiences are not universal, and all that.

Especially not when the life experience one is comparing oneself to started in a cloning tube.

Well, it's not like it's a burden for Bernard to have a free pass on checking out a hottie while he waits for Tim to come back from, presumably, waiting for Superboy to come and talk to him. Which Superboy is just . . . not doing, still. Inexplicably.

Still, sad puppy or not, Superboy's civvies look damn good on him, so that's something. Bernard's enjoying them, like as an aesthetic experience and everything. Superboy's wearing an unbuttoned red flannel shirt with rolled-up sleeves over a very tight black tank top and even tighter light wash skinny jeans that are bafflingly intact, considering the fact that a dude with Kryptonian-level super-strength is currently vacuum-sealed into them.

Does tactile telekinesis work on skinny jeans? Is that a thing? Like, are Superboy's jeans currently indestructible?

That sounds amazing, actually.

Also, those buckled-up black leather boots he's wearing look like they could straight-up kill a dude, Kryptonian power-assist or not. And the shiny mirrored sunglasses and ridiculous multitude of even shinier gold piercings all suit the guy, somehow, and even without looking like too much.

Relatedly, Superboy's tank top is very, very tight.

Also relatedly, his nipples are apparently pierced.

And so is his belly button, it looks like.

Ngh.

Superboy's vacuum-sealed jeans are not quite tight enough for Bernard to figure out if he's got any below the spike-studded belt piercings, but his imagination is happy to fill in the blanks there. He's tempted to ask for Tim's theories on the existence of any such piercings, because yeah Superboy has super-hearing but Bernard has no shame and Tim logically should know, buuuuut he's still pretending not to know Tim is Robin so yeah, probably he shouldn't do that.

He could start a new conspiracy board for it, maybe. That'd be fun.

Superboy also has leather cuffs on his wrists and mismatched rings and necklaces and a really hot fade haircut that is noticeably windswept, and really, really looks like something that Bernard would like to see somebody dig their fingers into. Just–look, there's curls. Bernard cannot be blamed for curls.

And he's trying not to eye the cuff bracelets too much, but they provide very nice inspiration for a certain style of kinky thoughts. Not that Superboy couldn't snap basically any set of cuffs that wasn't made of kryptonite or promethium or like a magical kryptonite-promethium alloy or whatever without even trying, obviously, but like, somehow the thought of the guy having to restrain himself more than anything else makes the whole mental image hotter? Like, somehow?

Bernard pictures Superboy wearing a pair of cheap flimsy sex toy handcuffs and trying very, very hard to keep himself in them while someone else takes very careful inventory of all his piercings, wherever and whatever they all just so happen to be.

Jesus. Yeah, there's a thought.

Is it weird to consider flirting up your boyfriend's superhero bestie while he's badly pretending to be a civilian, Bernard wonders? Is that a thing?

Probably, but he still has no shame and is also in an open relationship, so whatever.

Hell, who knows, in retrospect maybe Tim actually arranged this setup specifically for Bernard to get an eyeful of his work crush. Like, Bernard always felt like Robin and Superboy had some significant UST going back in the day. Maybe Tim wants to finally do something about that, and the setup idea sounds like a very "Bat" approach to doing said something. And it'd explain why Superboy didn't follow Tim to the bathroom and maybe even why he's coming across kind of anxious right now, if he's trying to psych himself up to come over or something. Like, if he's nervous about making a good impression, though Bernard cannot imagine why he ever would be. Well, not like Supers are known for their undercover skills, so . . .

Either way, if that's the plan, Bernard is very fine with it, so he decides to go find out for himself and picks up his drink to head over and chat the guy up. Worst case scenario, he’s just gotten his hopes up a little, he figures. Best case, he’s putting Superboy out of his “oh god, how do I do undercover” misery.

"Mind if I sit?" he asks, and flashes Superboy a grin as he gestures at the empty seat at the other half of his table. Superboy looks weirdly startled, like he somehow expected to go unnoticed despite being a literal superhero who is also unspeakably hot and is also wearing very, very tight clothes that he's this close to busting out of. Like, at least half a dozen girls are actively checking him out right now, as is the dude behind the counter and the old guy on the sidewalk outside who’s busy badly pretending to be reading the outdoor menu board instead of checking out Superboy’s ass through the front window.

So yeah, Bernard really does not understand that apparent assumption.

Come to think, maybe Superboy has some self-esteem issues or something. Bernard admittedly might also have self-esteem issues if he were Superman's clone. Then again, if he were Superman's clone, he would look like Superman and also be very aware of how Superman himself looks, sooooo . . .

Seriously, "younger and sexier punk rock Superman" is not a vibe that Bernard can imagine going ignored all that often. Or ever.

“Uh–what?” Superboy says.

“I’ve been temporarily abandoned by my boyfriend and I’m easily bored,” Bernard clarifies politely, though obviously Superboy was staring at Tim long enough to have noticed said abandonment the moment it happened. “So, mind if I sit?”

“I–sure?” Superboy says, looking nervous. Bernard puts another tally in the “too bad at undercover work to follow the Bat-plan” column. Whatever, the guy’s trying his best, he’s not gonna judge him.

There's a pin on the inside of Superboy’s flannel, Bernard notices as the other shifts awkwardly in his seat, and is vaguely puzzled by the sight of it. Like, it's just a little thing and he doubts he'd have even seen it if he weren't in this close to the guy, but . . .

Just–yeah. Little pin. Just like a cheap little round button, like the kind that comes out of the dollar bin at all sorts of random stores. And it's hidden inside Superboy's flannel, mostly, but it's definitely got the S-shield on it.

Bernard is perplexed. Even in Gotham, it's not like it's weird to see people wearing Superman merch. So like, why is Superboy hiding that?

“Cool,” he says as he files that away as a little oddity, and takes the empty seat. Superboy continues to look nervous. Bernard continues to work on figuring out if his weird Bat-boyfriend who he’s not supposed to know is a Bat set him up on a blind date with his superhero bestie. The nervousness supports the theory, anyway.

Man, this dude really is even prettier up close. How was he Tim’s bisexual awakening with this guy around and in close quarters with him? Like, he’s flattered, don’t get him wrong, but also maybe Tim has some vision problems and he should get that checked out before it inconveniences his nightlife.

"Sooooo like . . . what do I call you?" Bernard asks, peering across the table at him curiously. "Because the obvious option seems like a bad idea, obviously.”

"‘The obvious option’?" Superboy stops looking nervous long enough to look confused instead.

"Yeah?" Bernard says, cocking his head. Superboy cannot possibly think he’s being subtle here, so . . . "I mean, I assume you don't go by 'Superboy' when you're dressed like that. Like, that's the whole point of being dressed like that, right?"

Superboy stares blankly at him. Bernard cocks his head the other way, now officially the confused one.

"What?" Superboy says.

"Okay, sorry, this is the thing where you-know-who still insists on pretending he's not Robin, isn't it," Bernard realizes, which he really should've realized would be a thing from the start. He supposes that makes sense even with Superboy’s total lack of subtlety, though, superheroes probably do have to really commit to that thing. Especially ones who work for Batman and Superman. Or . . . just around Superman, maybe? Bernard is not fully clear on that particular superhero hierarchy. "My bad. So, uh, what do I call you, because there is obviously no obvious option. Obviously.”

"You . . . recognize me?" Superboy croaks.

"Uh," Bernard says, brow furrowing in bemusement at the very weird expression the guy's currently wearing. "Yes? No offense, you're kind of recognizable. Like, do you even have a secret identity? I mean, you're a clone, right, and I know you were just doing the full-time hero thing in at least Hawaii, so I actually have no idea if you ever bothered making one up or not?”

"You recognize me," Superboy chokes, just staring at him, and then bursts into tears.

. . . well, that can't be good.

#timberkon #timbern #bernard dowd #kon el #conner kent #tim drake #superboy #dc robin #wip: weird amnesia timberkon #long post #anonymous #rinfic

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002yb · 6 months

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I'm pretty sure Jason is forcing his boyfriend into self care, Dick gets so confused

Everyone can think what they will of Jason being a volatile brute, but the truth is that Jason is terrifyingly competent. He’s viciously organized - all carefully laid plans and biting contingencies, everything meticulously considered. A tactician, a one-man army; capable and efficient and cunning. Quick on his feet, quicker still with his wit, his tongue.

There's a reason Gotham was brought to heel when Jason came back to them; how it fell to its knees at Jason's feet. It's why Dick can feel a cold sweat dotting his brow because Jason is up to something and Dick can't figure what, but it feels just as big as before - just as damning.

It's a painful realization, given they just started dating a few months ago and all of Jason's attention is on him.

The thing is - Dick knows when he's being manipulated. He manipulates others all the time. Of course he'll fucking recognize when his own tricks are turned against him. The problem is that Dick can't fathom Jason's end game.

Lately all of their dates have been home bound. It's an abrupt departure from their productive work-dates: reconnaissance and casings and distracted flirting over comms. It's vaguely similar to the few post-patrol breakfast dates they had where Dick would inevitably doze off or the times they would sleep over at either of their flats, though...those really weren't much better, given Dick would sneak out before sunrise to get to his next shift at the precinct. That fleeting time between his day job and night job weren't particularly forgiving for any romance, either, actually...

The home bound dates are nice. Slow, but nice - something Dick comes to understand after weeks of restlessness because the change of pace is so jarring. But Dick is adaptable and Jason a mischievous vixen.

Soon enough, Dick adjusts to coming home from his shifts and sharing a homecooked meal with his boyfriend. A proper meal that tastes good and makes him feel sated in a way he usually isn't - energized and invigorated. Dick gets used to being coaxed into something more leisurely than a perfunctory shower post-patrol and is lulled to sleep instead of burning what few hours are left of the morning to work. And Dick gets used to lazy mornings, dozing in those slow hours before dawn as Jason lays over him - breaths even or hands wandering or-

They're lifestyle habits (improvements) that Dick unwittingly welcomes into his routine even when Jason isn't around and Dick feels good. Better than he has in a long time.

Dick pauses, eyes narrowing as he stares over Jason’s head and through the wall of Jason's bedroom. The man fits into the curve of Dick's body, spooned and playing at sleep because Jason learned weeks ago that his breathing and warmth has the power to lull Dick to sleep.

"Are you domesticating me?"

Dumb as the question sounds, it's honest. Hearing it out loud makes it all so clear, too. Jason is a menace; he's not afraid to play the long con. His boyfriend has patience for lifetimes, as Jason likes to point out to him. Often. Dick can't put it past Jason to condition Dick into taking care of himself.

The way Jason's back trembles as he bites back laughter gives him away. A barked laugh follows when Jason can't contain himself, an ornery cackle that devolves into a sweet titter as Jason looks back at him, teeth bared in a wicked smile.

#dickjay #jaydick #dorks in love #words #the struggle when writing burns you out but writing is the comfort like??? come on 🥲

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cas-backwards-tie · 11 months

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Chapter One: Seed Uprooted

Heiress of Gotham

Masterlist | Next Chapter

Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: After the loss of your mother, it feels as if all hope is lost. Fortunately, you’ve been placed in the care of your absentee father. The Wayne name has always been said to come with a few odds and ends that you’d have to get used to, the question is: will you?

Warnings: Angst, Anti-Police themes, Cursing, Death, Depression themes, Orphanage

Words: 1,569

A/N: This has actually been in my drafts and in my docs for... at least three years, I know. It's been rewritten at least twice, and I'm finally deciding to put it out there.

I remember that day. I remember exactly where I was when I’d found out. I remember the moment I met him.

The high-pitched ringing gives permission for us to finally leave the classroom, Mrs. Gurdept’s earlier demand that “the bell doesn’t dismiss you, I do.” did not divert anyone’s attention from packing up. Backpack already strung across your shoulders, you’re out the door along with everyone else. While your friend Daisha talks about how annoying the classmate is that sits next to her in History, it’s the uniformed men coming your way that catches your attention. It’s the BPD: Bludhaven Police Department. Parting the sea of students the police officer’s eyes scan the faces of the students passing them by. Heart rate rising, you try to keep your eyes on Daisha, determined to look engaged in conversation enough to skate past them without questioning.

“Miss?” One of the officers steps in front of you, blocking your path. Eyes immediately jumping up to his face, you scowl. “Can you answer a few questions for me?” Rumor has it they’re looking for Perdy Chapman, one of the sophmores who supposedly ran away from home once he’d been ousted as a drug runner for Marin’s gang; worst part was… he was funny, nice, and a straight A student. Officer reaching into the pocket on his breast, the white glimpse of a folded paper is barely seen before you respond. There’s no doubt it was some sappy photo of your classmate that you most definitely don’t want to see.

“No, I’m sorry, Officer. We’re late to practice!” Instantly grabbing Daisha’s hand you tug her along behind you, speedwalking toward the exit. She doesn’t question you; most of the kids know by now: never talk to the police. If you haven’t done anything wrong, then there’s no reason to talk to them. They’re all corrupt anyway.

Sitting on top of the cement blocks blocking off the parking lot from the kiss-and-ride line, Daisha playfully smacks your arm. “��We’re late to practice’? Are you kidding me? You were so fucking quick with that!” A fit of laughter consumes the both of you, the imagined perplexed looks upon the cop’s faces bringing you practically to tears. It takes a while to calm down, the conversation turning into gossip, and eventually into Daisha sharing some of the memes she’d recently seen online.

“Do you think it’s gonna rain?” The question leaves your lips as your eyes watch the dark, ominous clouds roll through the sky. A wet smell of oncoming rain lingers in the air like the humid and hot summer nights in the Carnaveron District.

“Well… if the clouds aren’t an obvious sign, I’d say yes,” she teases. The three short honks are our signal: her mom is here. Jumping off the cement blocks we head over to the spot she’s parked in line, a soft drizzle makes itself known as the drops plunk the roof of the car. Daisha sweeps you into a quick hug before getting into the car, the duo waving goodbye before driving off. Since you don’t live far, it’s easier to walk. It’s the one part of your routine that consistently brings you joy. The breeze and gentle pitter of rain on your skin help clear your head of all the school drama. Off toward home, you find yourself beginning to get lost in thought about tonight’s homework assignments. It’s only the buzz of the cell phone in your pocket that brings you back to reality. “Auntie?”

“It’s your mother, get to the hospital as soon as you can. Cuidate, mija.” The dial tone signals the call’s ended. Frozen there on the sidewalk, time doesn’t seem to pass; thunder rumbles in the distance, it’s the only thing that reminds you that time is still moving. It starts to sprinkle rain.

~~~Two Hours Later~~~

Technically you were an orphan… at least that’s what you’d thought. Legally they were mandated to send you to a state-run orphanage. Everyone probably thinks they don’t exist today, and yet, there it was… right in front of you, open and waiting: the gates of purgatory calling your name. Though on the borders of Bludhaven and the streets that lead toward the country part of the state, the building looked like any other. Brown bricks, tall elongated windows; it would look like a ghastly warehouse to you from the outside if you didn’t notice the tricycle on the lawn, or the chalk drawings on the sides of the building and sidewalk leading up to it.

“I have to take this call, excuse me,” the social worker steps away from the black hatchback sedan. Lost in your own world, it doesn’t even occur to you to eavesdrop on her call. There’s no possible way that things could get worse than this. Nonetheless, many ‘mhms’ and ‘okay, I understands’ are heard throughout the field adjoining the driveway. The grey clouds finally starting to disperse, it’s quiet out here, the only murmur of your social worker talking and the occasional passing car fill the air. Just as the numbness starts to churn in your stomach at the thought of your Mom, there’s a knocking on the car window.

“Damn!” There’s an exasperated and ludicrous look in her eyes. “Someone’s got one hell of a guardian angel lookin’ out for you, kid. Follow me.” Even if she’s audible through the glass, she doesn’t wait to check as she turns and heads toward the orphanage’s entrance. Though thoughts of running away cross your mind, there’s no logical reason to do so. What’s left out here for me? Nothing.

Once inside of the building you're told to sit tight on one of the wooden benches by the entrance office. Though the social worker chats with the warden, you don't pay them any mind. Their words go in one ear and out the other, your fiddling fingers in your lap far more entertaining as you try and comprehend what the toll of your mother's death will have on the rest of your life. Fifteen, and no longer any semblance of security in any realm of matter toward your future. How did this happen?

It feels as if it's instantaneous, yet the wall on the clock shows over half an hour has passed. Doors creaking open with the cool ocean-ladened after-rain wind, an older man closes the umbrella he'd been holding over the younger-looking man who strides into the building with a sort of conviction that only exists through the air it permeates. They both are adorned in long trench coats and sunglasses, though the younger wears a black hat.

"Lisa! I assume this is her," the broad man addresses your social worker before turning his gaze down toward you. With the click of the door's lock as it seals shut, all noise diminishes in the halls of the orphanage aside from the faint echo of children's laughter in the distance. The building instantly warms by a few degrees and the men take off their sunglasses, pocketing them. Mouth subconsciously falling agape, you recognize him. The man standing before you is one you've only seen on billboards, television, and in magazines: Bruce Wayne. He crouches to your eye-level.

"Yes, this is-" Lisa, the name of the woman you'd only known as your social worker, begins to introduce you. What follows truly feels like some sort of grief-stricken concoction of fantasy, and though it might be dangerous, you follow it.

It isn’t until the car pulls up to the door that you snap out of it. “This isn’t a joke?” He must be tired of it: this most likely being the fifteenth time you’ve asked such a thing in the last hour.

“No. It’s not,” while one might pick up on the disappointed tone in his voice, Bruce Wayne offers a small, sympathetic smile. His hand gently comes to rest on your shoulder, leading you out of the clean, sleek Rolls Royce.

“It’s a pleasure, Miss,” the elderly man states your name in a titular way. Taken aback, he hardly registers in your mind. Too many thoughts and emotions consuming you, leaving nothing but a rapidly beating heart and a million questions tucked inside the body of a young girl. The fields had turn back into factories, factories into skyscrapers, skyscrapers into trees, and by then you’d finally come onto the property. In the dark there wasn’t much to take in; light illuminates windows upon rows of windows that span so far you wonder for a moment if they ever stop. Yet the edge of the mansion can be spotted from your place by the door, too weary to step inside.

"Are you coming?"

"I'm afraid if you stand out there all night you'll catch a cold," the older gentleman, whom you've already forgotten the name of, warns.

"That reminds me, Alfred, please go set up a bath for her. I'll take her upstairs," Bruce delegates. Though you wouldn't know it for months, he decided to give you a moment. Waiting at the door, he remembers the hours and days that followed his own parents' death. He's well aware that this is undoubtedly a big moment for you, and thus, a little patience won't hurt.

"This is..." you can barely even come up with a sentence, let alone a string of thoughts as you take in the palace before you.

"-your new home? Yes." He finishes the thought for you.

~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @ohdamnadam, @safarigirlsp, @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

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riddle-me-ri · 7 months

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👉👈 I would uuuhhhh very much enjoy a Dormouse type reader x Jervis somewhere in the future, also would really like if you did the rest of the dork squad reacting to reader dying cause I'm a sucker for angst BUT AS ALWAYS there's no pressure, I know it's a lot, take as much time as you need, and only write if you want and you're up for it!! Love you lots, good luck on your driver's test, keep on being amazing!!!

a/n: asdfggh aww my beloved gus gus thank you so much you're amazing ilysm. Unfortunately, I failed my test BUT I'd love nothing more than to do the dormouse type reader! And I've already gotten the request for the scarecrows so it's only a matter of time for the Mad Hatters so I already imagined I'd be finishing off the wee angst series anyway but god to know there’s a need lol

Content Warning: nothing crazy just mentions of some small pain inflictions as a means to wake up reader (i.e. flicks, head smacks, things like that) better to be safe than sorry and mentions of somnophilia but no explicit detail

The Mad Hatters with a Dormouse Type Reader

Arkhamverse Mad Hatter:

Albeit you always falling asleep can be…tiring on its own.

(he does get aggravated sometimes but never shows you directly)

He does appreciate your loyalty.

At least you're always there for him…physically.

You always manage to be a small voice of reason for him

Even when he doesn't realize it

Oftentimes he may take credit for your comments for his own.

Jervis shows his appreciation by always including you, no matter where or what.

Whether you're listening or not, he's just glad to finally have a companion.

BTAS Mad Hatter:

Jervis finds you absolutely adorable.

Even though your sleeping habits are a bit cumbersome…

He's pleased to find that you actually pay more attention when you’re asleep than those who do when they are wide awake.

Which makes you incredibly helpful, he’s always amazed at the amount you recall.

You also know just when to be alert and awake, but of course, he knows that comes with a quick crash later.

As your relationship develops, he does go an extra length to ensure you’re comfortable

Don’t ask where the pillows and blankets come from, he just HAS them on standby somehow.

(also no he totally didn’t kiss the top of your head, that was absolutely a ~dream~)

TNBA Mad Hatter:

Like other Jervi, he’s at first annoyed with your relentless napping.

However, he can’t deny you’re incredibly insightful for someone who normally snoozes away most of the time.

Whenever he thinks allowed while tinkering at something, you’ll mumble something he hadn’t considered.

(kind of like Arkham, he’ll likely take the credit sometimes)

He does appreciate your input, he just has a hard time showing it.

He grows to not mind your endless naps after a while.

Your soft snoring and mumbles are the only noise he welcomes while he’s working.

Like BTAS, he is also likely to make sure you’re most comfortable when you’re sleeping.

Gotham Mad Hatter:

Most likely to try and keep you awake for as long as possible before giving up.

And inevitably trying again later or the next day.

You’re extremely lucky you look cute when you’re sleeping.

Jervis is likely to shake you or gently pat you upside your head to wake you up.

He does let you sleep some days.

But if he’s particularly hyperactive about something or someone he wants your full attention.

You do surprise him sometimes when you talk in your sleep.

Sometimes you intentionally say questionable things in your sleep just to get back at him for all his interruptions.

Harley Quinn: TAS Mad Hatter:

This Jervis is most likely to be like his literary counterpart.

Don't be surprised if you wake up to see tea being poured on your face.

Or if you felt some flicks to your temple.

Don't worry though, he'll gladly wash your face or kiss wherever he afflicts you.

Jervis will insist it’s because he knows no better alternatives to wake you.

(absolutely untrue, man just thinks your scrunched up face is adorable)

Jervis relies on you to remind him of a lot of things.

What day it is, keep score during tea party games, which tea cup has cyanide in it…the usual.

Joker’s Asylum Mad Hatter:

Jervis cherishes you.

You’re so calm, quiet, and gentle…so opposite to what he’s used to.

You are something of an emotional support dormouse.

You always wake up just in the nick of time to help him from relapsing.

This Jervis is most likely to genuinely nap with you sometimes.

When Jervis sleeps next to you, it’s usually the best sleep he gets.

Jervis actually dreams happy dreams for once…

He can see a storybook ending where he can have hats, tea, and a loyal dormouse by his side. An ending where he’s happy.

Secret Six Mad Hatter:

I hope you don’t have many boundaries, cause Jervis will break them whilst you are asleep.

Don’t be surprised if you stir awake to five hats somehow balancing on your head.

Or his arm propped up against your shoulder or his head leaned up against yours.

You’re also kind of like an emotional support dormouse for Jervis.

All he’s ever wanted was a companion, and he’s found a reliable one in you.

He doesn’t mind your incessant sleeping, he just rolls with it.

Jervis knows he has his quirks and you have yours, and what luck you so happen to relate to the dormouse of all characters!

And just cause this Jervis is the most canonically naughty than the others, if you’re down he has no qualms about somnophilia

#ri writes #arkhamverse mad hatter x reader #btas mad hatter x reader #batman the animated series mad hatter x reader #tnba mad hatter x reader #ratter x reader #gotham mad hatter x reader #harley quinn the animated series mad hatter x reader #hqtas mad hatter x reader #joker's asylum mad hatter x reader #secret six mad hatter x reader

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thiccpersonality · 3 months

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The Riddled Questions

To paint a (hopefully) quick picture for you, imagine this: the Justice League enjoying a surprisingly peaceful day; The Flash playing cards with Black Canary and Green Arrow, Diana and Barda having an intense training session to bond over their warrior-like upbringings, HawkGirl and Green Lantern (John Stewart) chilling in a corner trying to act like they aren't flirting even though everyone can see it and other League members just chatting or enjoying various fun activities on the Watch Tower.

Heck! Even Batman is oddly relaxed (all things considered), his head actually turned away from the monitors to indulge in his hushed conversation with Superman. Whatever they are talking about is causing the big ol' bat to smirk, and dare I say, chuckle.

However, no matter how much the heroes are enjoying the peace, crime is still crime and evil is still evil. It's at those dreaded big, bold, bright red words flashing "CODE ASYLUM" that breaks the peaceful atmosphere, Batman immediately clicking away on the monitors to show how every single Arkham Asylum patient has escaped and are causing havoc in Gotham (some even having managed to flee out of the smoggy city).

Long story short: the Justice League insisted on helping Batman, split up into groups or individually to take care of a specific criminal or villain.

Which is how we get to the present. The Question executing his mission of tracking The Riddler down and bringing him back to Arkham...the issue with this of course is the fact that a man who's whole persona is questioning life is tasked with bringing down a man who's whole identity is asking questions in the form of riddles, I mean, how else did you think this situation would turn out?

The Riddler curses as he's pushed into a corner by Question, the man scoffing and standing straight while spinning his question mark shaped cane around. "Okay, so you've got me in a corner...but riddle me this-"

The Question: *clicks his tongue and places his right hand up to his chin as if he's thinking deeply about something* "Why do you riddle?"

The Riddler pauses and stares at the mysterious-some might say questionable-man as if he's stupid: "Really? Maybe because I'm THE RIDDLER. Why the crap do you question me?"

The Question hums once again: "Because someone needs to ask the important questions, you won't find answers to the questions in question if you never ask. Why are you questioning me about questioning you?"

The Riddler huffs impatiently: "Because you questioned me about questioning you about questioning me, that's why. And why are you here anyway...where is Batman?"

The Question: "Why am I here? Hm...that is a question I often ask myself, what reason am I here for? Is asking questions all I'm meant to do? What about you? Is asking riddles all you are meant for?"

The Riddler: "Wh-huh!? How are you turning these questions back onto me!?"

The Question: "Why do you assume I'm trying to turn things onto you?"

The Riddler: "Why are you assuming I'm assuming things? Don't you think that's a bit rude?"

The Question: "Who knows? Do I think at all? Maybe...maybe not. I want to know why you assume that I'm assuming things about you when in fact I'm not assuming, I'm just stating the obvious based off of the response you gave me. Why do you assume I'm rude because of that?"

The Riddler: "Why are you assuming that I'm assuming you are inherently rude because of my statement? I have not outright said you were rude, I said your questioning sounded a bit rude not you."

The Question: "But when one says that about a person, even just their speech, does it not cause that person to automatically assume you are talking about them as a person? Just as how you assumed I was turning these questions back onto you."

The Riddler: "By you saying "does it not cause that person to assume you are talking about them" is that not you confessing to assuming and also proving you are turning these questions back onto me by questioning me back? Which is the exact assumption I made earlier, so I was right in my assumption of you assuming things of me."

The Question: "But if you don't want more questions asked of you, why do you keep responding to me with questions as well? I'm not the only one at fault here."

The Riddler's eyebrow twitches in agitation at this repeating game...but he can't help but to respond: "I'm supposed to not answer you back? Is it not polite to answer back when someone responds? And who said I don't want questions asked of me?"

The Riddler can't really see Question's face...but his voice sounds dry and sarcastic when he responds: "No one said it. I posed it as a question and not a statement, I never outright said you didn't not want to be asked questions, I was just questioning you on why you keep responding IF you don't like my questions. I didn't ask you that thinking you didn't enjoy them, it's all hypothetical."

The Riddler: "Why is it hypothetical?"

A smile is heard in The Question's voice: "Ah, now you are the one turning my questions back on me. Does that not seem hypocritical to complain about me doing it and then doing it yourself?"

The Riddler just glares at The Question for a hot minute before crossing his arms like a sulking child: "Well I'm evil and you aren't. I'm allowed to be hypocritical because there's no hope for me."

The Question tilts his head curiously: "Why is there no hope for you?"

Riddler opens his mouth to answer before closing it again, humming and squinting in thought: "Well...society seems to think so, do they not? If a group of people agree on it...then it must be true."

The Question crosses his arms: "And if a group of those same people jumped off a bridge, would you? Why do you follow society?"

The Riddler bristles at the question: "I do not! I'm evil. That isn't like normal people!"

The Question: "What defines normal to you?"

The Riddler groans and scratches his head: "Not harming people, for one. Maybe not being uncaring towards others and causing harm wherever and whenever you can!"

The Question: "But those people you sometimes hurt are the ones that see you as a freak, are they not? I'm sure those comments hurt you a great deal deep down. And "normal" people still hurt people, that is inevitable, it's if you keep doing it that matters...right?"

The Riddler quickly nods in agreement: "Yes! And I keep on hurting people, so I am not normal."

The Question nods: "Yes, so you have said. But why do you keep doing it?"

The Riddler snaps and barks out at the other man agitated: "Because I'm not normal! I told you that people have told me I'm evil because I am!"

The Question: "Ah...people...such fickle beings we are. Did you not just tell me that you didn't conform to society? But most of your reasoning for hurting people and continuing to do so is based off of societal standards of you, is it not? I have to ask: are you hurting people because you truly want to or have you been led to believe there's no hope because the "normal" people you look at won't extend that to you? No doubt you have issues, but are you truly unsaveable?"

The Riddler feels like his mind goes blank, what does this mean? Is he conformed to society already? Has he been like the others all this time in thinking he was different?

At the stunned silence of the man, The Question smiles behind his mask at wearing the other down, steps forward and gently leads the man out of his corner and back to an Arkham police van.

At the sight of The Question and The Riddler, The Flash runs up while rubbing his head: "We heard you through the comms. I have a headache from all those questions...why didn't you just fight him? Wouldn't it have been faster?"

Question hands over The Riddler and turns to the speedster: "I thought you were tired of the questions yet you ask me some?"

The mysterious man turns to look at the van driving away while placing a hand on the Flash's shoulder: "Is the easiest and quickest path always the wisest to choose? I think slow and steady has won this race my friend."

(Look...idk what random post/writing this is? I'm not expecting this to be good because I wrote this very randomly lol, with the thought of what would happen if two question asking people interacted. I started out with it being silly and somehow got...deep?...about it towards the end. And if no one could tell, Questions last question to Flash was supposed to mean he didn't want to fight an essentially confused man that day (he wouldn't mind fighting him any other time I'm sure lol), he already has too much on his mind so why not provide that hope he's so often denied by society in the form of long-winded questions...or something like that 😂.

You all please stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛)

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dramatisperscnae · 7 months

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@thegirlwondcr [x]

"Okay, first off--thank you, thank you, thank you." Emma started off, trying to ease into actually answering his question. "Also, you are my favorite brother, I don't know if I've ever told you that, but you are." This seemed like the best way to approach this. The happier he was, the more chances she had of Bruce never knowing about this. The crime? Embarrassment, to say the least. A misunderstanding that escalated way too quick, that probably would have never happened if she had never been trained as Robin. "I was just getting a few snacks at this convenience store. Because there are just some snacks Alfred will refuse to get me because he says they are way too unhealthy, but sometimes it is just nice to have an overprocessed snack full of dye." Emma justified before actually getting into the crime at hand. "Well, I bought some snacks and on my way out some random customer said 'Hey you didn't pay for that' when after I just did that. So naturally, I argued with him, and then he reached over to me to which I then punched him in the face because I thought he was trying to attack me or something. Then he punches back, and then we are just punching back and forth until the cops showed up..." Then she hesitated, embarrassment and regret clear on her face. "Turns out I had left a pack of crackers in my pocket..." "But you have to promise not to tell Bruce about it, he will bench me for an entire year. You also can't tell Alfred because then he's going to just make me eat vegetables nonstop for the next six months." She begged of her brother. "Nobody got hurt! Well except for the guy--but broken noses can heal! And I can cover all my bruises in concealer or just say I fell off the bleachers like five times."

Quite honestly, it was all Dick could do to keep a straight face as Emma launched into her explanation. He hadn't really cared why she'd been at that convenience store - if she wanted snacks she could have snacks, he wasn't going to tell her no considering his own eating habits would probably have Alfred giving him a lecture on proper nutrition if the man ever found out - he'd been more interested in why she'd been in a fight.

Turned out, the story was so incredibly facepalm worthy Dick really had to fight not to laugh. An overreaction of epic proportions that, honestly, as a lone girl on Gotham streets, Dick couldn't entirely fault her for; strange men grabbing for you would make anyone react, and some people's fight-or-flight only had one setting. Add in an accusation of theft and, well, it was almost understandable.

Almost.

The good thing was that Emma seemed to understand she'd fucked up. By rights Dick ought to be delivering the lecture he knew Bruce probably would, about responsibility and reasonable application of force and all that jazz, but quite honestly Emma seemed fully aware of what she'd done and why she'd been in the wrong here. Mostly, anyway. And she'd almost certainly be getting that lecture from Bruce anyway once the man heard about it; Emma was incredibly naive to think it wouldn't get back to him somehow.

"You honestly think you got dragged down to GCPD Central and Commissioner Gordon isn't gonna hear about it?" he asked her, raising an eyebrow. "And once he hears about it, Bruce definitely will. This not even getting into the fact that since Bruce is your legal guardian he's probably already been notified anyway even though you called me to come get you." No, there was no way Bruce wasn't going to know about this. What there could be was Dick on Emma's side to try and soften whatever punishment might be coming.

"Look, you know you fucked up, right?" he asked. "Forget about should'ves and shouldn'ts, you know you fucked up, right? Maybe the guy could've handled his side better, but you going right to violence?" That wasn't how Bruce trained her. Dick knew that for certain. Especially in civilian life, de-escalation should be the immediate go-to.

#thegirlwondcr #dick ic #dick verse: gone solo #[Dick just out here trying not to laugh at the entire situation and be the responsible one for five minutes XD]

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ladylynse · 1 year

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Trick or Treat!

After not hearing from her in months, Danny had come to find his cousin.

Her trail went cold in Gotham.

Danny hadn’t been here long before realizing she might have just kept her head down and quietly moved on. Amity Park had it bad with all the ghost attacks, but it wasn’t like this. The attacks might be more frequent back home, but the average threat level of these ones seemed to be higher. Sure, Danny’s judgement might be skewed because the Box Ghost had attacked five times in the three days before he’d left to come on this trip, but still.

Danny didn’t want to write this place off until he knew something for certain, so he let the local superheroes take care of things and hung back in the shadows, trying to keep his head down.

The shadows were not as empty as he was used to.

Maybe, if he’d been better actually hiding in them, or if he’d just stayed invisible for as long as possible when things got dicey, he wouldn’t have attracted attention.

His best efforts otherwise were dismal, apparently.

Clearly, showing up to the scene of as many attacks as possible on the off chance that he’d run into Dani—or some lead about her—had been the stupidest thing he could possibly do, something Jazz and Sam would no doubt have pointed out to him repeatedly if he’d mentioned it.

But he hadn’t, mostly because he knew they wouldn’t be happy about it. Sam, Tuck, and Jazz knew what he was really up to, even if they didn’t know the full story about Dani, so they were keeping up the pretense with his parents of being invited on a business trip by Vlad.

Keeping secrets kept getting him into trouble in the long run, but it worked well enough in the short run. It wasn’t like he was going to tell anyone here what he was really doing or how he always managed to avoid getting shot.

He had not expected that people on both sides would find reason to distrust him when he hadn’t even done anything, though.

Sure, his showing up to the scene of the crime, even when those scenes were far apart, might be more pattern than coincidence and give them cause to question if anyone worked out the math, but no one back home had ever blinked twice at that. And, okay, maybe that one hero had been noticeably freaked out the first time he’d met Danny, but Danny had assumed that he’d just been having a rough day. The bank robbers had nearly shot them both.

(Well, they had shot Danny; Danny had just been intangible at the time. Maybe that had been more noticeable than he’d thought?)

And it was hardly his fault he’d frozen everything green on sight the minute he’d noticed a plant moving in an unnatural way. He’d thought it was Undergrowth. He’d been quick about it, too—hadn’t even bothered transforming since he could handle ice easily enough in human form now, thanks to his ongoing training with Frostbite—and he hadn’t thought there were any witnesses around.

Something he’d been wrong about, apparently.

Story of his life.

“This isn’t what it looks like, I swear,” Danny insisted. “This is all a big misunderstanding. I’m just a tourist.”

Really, he should have known they wouldn’t believe him.

Ask box trick-or-treating - receive a snippet if you drop by - Happy Halloween, everyone!

Halloween snippets | see more fics

#dpxdc #crossover #danny fenton #fanfiction #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #crossover snippet #dp snippet #halloween snippets #I'd had an actual plan for this crossover #and then didn't write it down #so you get this instead #enjoy!

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cetaceans-pls · 2 years

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Back To Front

Magic gone awry has made Bruce a much, much younger man.

Jason’s not super jazzed about being the Responsible Adult in this situation

BruJay, T

bruce wayne day 4, for the prompts: brand new at batman, fear of guns

this is VERY soppy. i’m also SO indescribably sleepy that i wrote this with one eye closed, but nevertheless i enjoyed writing this hugely, so please enjoy

Jason looks at Bruce, and tries to be Regular about for having to look down to meet him in the eyes, for the first time since, uh, the dawn of time.

“You’re handling this pretty well.”

Bruce, zapped by a stray bolt of magic during a battle royale between Z and the magiced asshole of the week and now a hang-dogged looking young man of 20, just looks at Jason balefully.

God, Jason thinks. Man’s too young to even drink.

“Look, I know the only reason you let me give you a lift back to the Cave is because I got Alfie on the phone to talk to you. You haven’t even met Di-, uh.” Shit. Jason’s not sure what would happen if he spills that kind of information, if maybe this soggy-biscuit version of Bruce will find out he goes from lone ranger to mother hen right quick and decide to not go to the circus one particular night. “Uhm.”

“If this really is time travel and not some type of induced hallucination, don’t tell me anything,” Bruce says in his trademark growl, but it’s a little high and it lacks that electronic overlay that makes his voice spit and threaten like a fork being blasted in a microwave.

He’s so young. Jason’s eyes almost water to look at him, and he cannot comprehend that a year or so further down the line, this Bruce with his lank hair and perpetual turned corners to his mouth will see a child who’s lost everything and go no, not everything.

“I won’t,” Jason says. “I wasn’t gonna,” he says, like he hadn’t had half of Dick’s name out his mouth. He groans, and brushes his hair back in irritation. “I guess it’s going to be code names only, then. I’m Red Hood, and we, uh. Work together.”

It’s one way to describe it. He pulls out his phone, ignores Bruce’s hungry, interested stare at the cutting-edge piece of tech to someone from a time where landlines were king, and texts Alfred.

he doesn’t remember anything can you please take out EVERYTHING in the bedroom?

Of course.

He looks up from his phone, and see Bruce looking at him shrewdly. It’s another departure from normal; regular Bruce, his Bruce, is constantly looking at people shrewdly with zero expression on his face. Bruce can run through 15 vicious assessments of a brand new alien species without a single crease of an aristocratic brow, probably, and it just hammers home how....fresh and new to all of this, Bruce is.

Once a man’s been Batman for a couple of decades there’s something of it that remains in the blood, and Jason had thought he’d gotten awful good at seeing the man underneath it all, but... no. Even at his most vulnerable, even at his most laid bare, the Bruce of his time’s got too much iron in the blood, too much eldritch after seeing all of the horror.

He looks at this Bruce and the first adjective that comes to his mind is soft-bellied. His second thought it Gotham’s gonna ruin you.

It’s a little depressing, like giving a eulogy at a funeral for a man who isn’t dead yet, and maybe Jason’s not as good at keeping a poker face while roiling in emotional turmoil because Bruce looks at him with blatant concern.

“Do we have a bad working relationship?”

“Maybe?” Jason doesn’t even know if he’s lying because of time travel or because he doesn’t actually know how to describe the messy fuzzy business of Batman and Red Hood being simultaneously terribly antagonistic and brutally efficient. “Look, I’m gonna get a migraine if I have to do 6-D chess to figure out if I’m going to collapse space-time every time I answer a question. How about we just sit here quietly in the Cave, you don’t look too hard at any of the tech, and you also don’t ask me why we have magicians on speed-dial.”

Bruce frowns. “You don’t have to keep me company in that case. I’ve survived near-death experiences, I can survive sitting in the Cave by myself until help comes.”

“Great point. Except, see, I can’t leave you alone.” Not for any practical or logistical reasons; few places on Earth were safer, and they can’t even go to Clark’s Fortress because this B is still a few years out from their first meeting. “Don’t ask me why,” Jason rushes to say, when he sees Bruce open his mouth to argue (of course). “Time traveler reasons, all right?”

The hell it is. Jason just cannot leave B alone in this state (soft-bellied). It’s just hitting hard and hitting weird, to see how young B had been when he’d started all of this. Of course Jason’s stint had started much younger and ended much worse, but he’d popped out of Catherine with skin an inch thick, probably.

Left to himself he hadn’t been particularly idealistic, though that trait had blossomed when he got given Robin. It’s just a weird realisation to make, that Bruce is all ass-backwards. Had started out a little delicate and intensely believing in his singular ability to make things better, and so much of that just gotten chipped away. The pillar of support’s mostly gone now, much of what’s left is just stoic rusty rebar.

This before to the after that’s the Bruce he owns is a little sickening to think about, much less face.

Bruce doesn’t pick up on Jason’s obvious cues that he’s feeling a little frazzled and a lot awful, because all he’d heard was Jason brushing him off without good reason. “Listen,” he says, puffing up his chest, and god the armour plating on this early batsuit looks gossamer thin and about as good at gossamer at preventing injury, god. “If you’re that desperate to keep your secrets, it’s fine. Just leave, and send Alfred down here to keep me company. He knows me.”

Jason wants to laugh at that, though he’s feeling a tad too hysterical to let it loose. “I promise you, B, I know you real damn well. Too damn well, even.” It’s 100% why he’s having this crisis of self, seeing what Bruce could’ve been based on what he was.

(Could’ve been someone with emotions he didn’t mind being read on his face).

Bruce doesn’t look convinced, so Jason pulls out his gun and in a smooth move shoots a hole through a target on the other side of the cave. The resounding bang echoes like a ghost through the cavernous walls, but Jason doesn’t even have time to care about the ringing in his ears.

What decades of training have dampened down to little more than a twitch at the corner of his mouth isn’t present here; Bruce has a full-body shudder, then goes a little green, before rallying back and baring his teeth. “Why the hell did you do that?”

“You get better at it, at not reacting to guns,” Jason says simply. “For a long while you got better at it for bad reasons,” and he’s too polite to say you have had some type of deathwish or other for most of your life, “and then you did it for better reasons.”

Bruce just keeps staring at him, even and serious. “Which one are you?” he snaps. “One of the bad reasons or one of the good ones?”

That does manage to pry out a startled laugh from Jason, who wants to grab Bruce round the throat and either punch him or kiss him (no changes there). “Been a major contributor to both, to be honest.”

Bruce steps towards him, posture aggressive but voice strangely earnest. “Which one are you now?”

Jason looks down at him, and wants to scream. “Good one,” he says, rendered solemn despite himself. “We both worked real fucking hard to get to that stage, I can tell you that for fucking sure.”

Jason’s forced to rescind his earlier thoughts; even if this Bruce still hasn’t gotten his face under control yet, that brain under all that thick mussed-up hair is still razor sharp (and a bit of a bitch). Bruce’s eyes narrow, than widen in surprise. “We’re involved. Aren’t we? We’re involved, and something about me or you or us together makes working together difficult.”

Jason groans, and shoves Bruce away with a hand to the face. “Nope, not getting into that. I literally am not gonna tell you anything any more, we’re both in time-out right now, fucking hell.”

For no reason that Jason could conceivably come up with, Bruce just looks satisfied. “You want to do a time-out but still sit together with me here, when you could just leave. Could have just left a while ago. That it, isn’t it? Our working relationship is difficult, but our personal relationship is...good.” He looks a little disbelieving. “Good enough that you’re here and you won’t leave me.”

Jason makes a face, and scowls at Bruce. “If this universe collapses around our ears ‘cos you couldn’t not be a detective and leave things the hell alone, I’m not taking responsibility.”

Bruce looks at him like he’s about to argue, but then he cocks his head to one side, frowning. “Did you hear that-”

And then the universe does collapse (just a little bit).

When Jason comes to, he’s sitting in one the Cave’s 200 office chairs, and Bruce, his Bruce, is leaning against a table, arms folded around that (magnificent!) broad chest.

Jason feels so much blessed relief it hits a lot like an asthma attack. “Fuck me, you’re the worst human being in the entire goddamn world.”

Bruce shrugs, but he’s smiling faintly. “Don’t think that can be true, since you’re still here with me.”

Jason groans. “Fuck me, do you remember everything? Wait, so that really was you from, like, 1998 or something? We didn’t break the universe.”

Bruce shakes his head ruefully. “I’d been trying out a new type of grappling hook, and the line had snapped. I wake up and I’m concussed to hell and back, and everything’s like a fever dream. Didn’t realise it wasn’t until the Red Hood came to Gotham, but it certainly added an interesting layer to how I felt when I found out that this....,” he gestures vaguely around them, “this was you.”

Jason licks his lips, throat gone dry. “Good kind of layer, or a bad one?’

Bruce pushes away from the table to loom over Jason, this familiar sightline, this beloved bulk. He rests a hand at Jaosn’s jaw, and smiles. “The good kind,” he murmurs, warm and close. “After all, we both worked real fucking hard to get here, didn’t we, Jaybird?”

Un-fucking-believable. Jason wants to beat the crap out of Bruce, and has to make peace with just biting hard on Bruce’s thumb instead. “Asshole. Should’ve stayed as younger-you, he was all innocent and, uh, earnest.”

“Gotham’s taken most of it away,” Bruce says matter-of-factly, but they’re both still whispering like they’re in a church that they built themselves. “Whatever’s left though, I’m happy to let you keep.”

All of it, Jason doesn’t say, because it doesn’t need saying. He’s keeping all of it, because all of it is his, cracked cement and sturdy rebar and a face that’s easy to read and this worn-down man who’s still better than the next thousand you could conjure up.

“C’mon,” Jason says roughly, knocking Bruce’s hand off and climbing to his feet. “Everyone’s been worried as shit about you.”

“They shouldn’t have been,” Bruce says mildly. “You were here with me.”

“Oh my god,” Jason says. “Fuck me, bring back the other guy.”

But then he grabs the hand he’s bitten, and tugs Bruce back to the present.

#brucewayneweek2022 #brujay #bruce wayne #jason todd #whale writing #i don't know how i had an idea for this fic at 8 in the morning #and still somehow ended up writing most of it in the middle of the gd night #in other news today my friend took me out for a coffee #sneakily paid for my drink #and then the barista gave me a Fancy Drink someone ordered but never showed up for #feeling at a weird kinda peace w the world right now hope u are too

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like-rain-or-confetti · 1 year

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So with Abigail when she gets a little older say 12-14 what's she gonna think of Jon and eds jobs when she gets older and what's she gonna think of their behavior as parents will she realize it's wrong

So I think she'll know that her dad's aren't good people- thanks to Jonathan. If Edward had his way, he'd make it out like he's better than society and outsmarted the machine that keeps society functioning. No longer will he be corrupted and contained by the structure of the masses. No longer will he be content with the scraps of decency he has been allocated. He won't be controlled. He will best the system and over take it.

No, no, honey. Let Papa Jon (😉) explain to you what the deal is. "Your father's are shit people, Abigail." Jonathan-! "We are shit people and don't let even us tell you otherwise!" He'll be painfully blunt. Insulting even himself and the Riddler. "Edward can't handle that no one cares about him. He isn't special. He isn't the golden child of one in seven billion. His intelligence could be useful if it wasn't submerged in his insufferable ego that is both fragile yet impenetrable all at the same time. That's where his gift lies, drowned in yet even more insufferable narcissism." It's safe to say Edward will go in a mood as Jonathan continues about himself. As you'd expect, it was cold and unfeeling. He didn't even hold back for himself but that only added to how detached he was. He abused his authority time and time again without remorse. He can't develop relationships or tap into his emotions the same way as most others could. Yet none of the faults he mentioned seemed to bother him. No matter who insulting he was, he spoke like reading a report. Jonathan Crane really did hold no prisoners. Not even himself.

However both rogues are in agreement that there are things they've done that Abigail is too young to know about and things they've done she can simply never know about. So she will know what her dad's do and that they're both criminals and will learn more and more of their crimes as she grows up but there will be some things she will never know about.

Edward is the type that if she needs to know what he did then she needs to know why he did it.

Jonathan is the type that if she needs to know what he did then he will tell her without any issues what he has done but he won't give a why. As far as he sees it, he didn't need to give a why. It wouldn't change what he has done, regardless of any reason. He has done and will do terrible things. A reason why won't change a thing.

Now I think the last part of your question will really give insight to the type of person Abigail could grow up to be. I too have considered this.

So Abigail is a sweetheart deep down but like you'd suspect, her way of showing it is a little off. She has a way with words. Blunt like Jonathan and quick witted like Edward. This makes her a little...well, mean. She is intelligent but has instead learned to become more manipulative. Like her dad, she's picked up tips and tricks to bend people to her will. Not to mention some trauma she's picked up along the way for the attempts many have made to get under her fathers skin or gain their attention.

However, criminally, Abigail is nothing like her fathers. She had gotten misdemeanors at most but is hardly considered evil. She actually turned out rather well given who raised her. Although she tends to get away with a lot by the GCPD when it's less criminal offences. A slap on the wrist if they can help it simply because they feel bad for the girl.

So Abigail will likely develop a bit of a darkside and will know right from wrong. It just might not mean as much to her as it would the good citizens of Gotham. She accepts that her fathers aren't good people but good people are hard to find in Gotham. Her empathy is a little hard to find considering neither are very good rolemodels for it but deep down it's in there. In anyone of the three are capable of being a good person, it's definitely Abigail.

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super-cerulean · 1 year

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2. I Took a Chance on Saving Me, That's Not a Front

❄️Master Post: All Parts

❄️Pairings: Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader

❄️Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Language, Mentions of Mental Illness, Mentions of Depression and Dissociation, Angst, Slow burn

❄️Summary: Following the events of One and Only, Jason Todd's life is spiralling out of control. His best friend is dead, his family thinks he's on the verge of a meltdown, and the one person who might understand is locked up in Arkham and hates his guts. Knowing he's getting to a point where things are going to overwhelm him, he can either let himself react the way he reacts, or he can do something drastic to try and prevent the next Arkham Knight situation. Which one do you think he goes with?

❄️Links: Available on AO3

Predictably, things didn't go as smoothly as Jason tried to convince himself they would go. Something about the silence that permeated his bedroom that night made his thoughts run rampant. He tried to just push through it and busy himself with TV or digging up a case to investigate, because actually putting on the suit when he was like this was never a good idea, but at some point he couldn't focus on any of it.

He was so fucking overwhelmed, and he had no idea how to deal with it. By then, he was getting desperate and he was starting to find his thoughts dragged back to you. Maybe he felt some kind of kinship with the way you handled your emotions, or maybe he was just grasping for anything he was fixated on that felt less volatile than Roy’s death. Whatever it was, Jason had followed it’s influence and spent much of the night reliving what had happened between the two of you. As he thought, he felt a compulsion beginning to form in the back of his mind.

It was a terrible idea, that much Jason was sure of immediately. He knew it was idiotic as he'd been hacking into Arkham's network and searching for your files, yet a part of him was a little too hopeful too stop himself. He had to at least try to help you. His conscience was eating itself alive while you rotted in that sorry excuse for a mental health institution. He couldn't give up; not when he was living some semblance of a fulfilling life despite everything he'd done. If he got a second and third chance, you deserved one too. At least, that was the reasoning he was comfortable with for now. He didn't want to delve too deep into how alone he'd really felt and how much he craved understanding from someone else.

The system was ridiculously easy to get into, and he was pretty confident you were the least of the asylum's problems. He found your record easily, and as expected you were the model inmate. They probably wouldn't even notice if he snatched you out of there, but he wanted to do things the right way...well as right as things can be when he'd be forging documents to arrange for your release. What he was really worried about was getting you to agree to come with him. He was fairly certain that the moment he walked into the same room as you, his plan would be over immediately. He needed a face you didn't know, and someone who he could trust not to get too involved. So, once the business side of things was arranged, he decided to head on over to Gotham academy to spend some time with his newest sibling.

It didn't take much convincing from Alfred to take over driving Duke home from school. The older man had tried not to be obvious about it, but he was relieved to see Jason in the manor and offering to be more involved with the family. Jason was thankful for that, especially because it meant he got the town car without having to answer too many questions. Things were lining up perfectly so far.

"Uh…Hi?" Duke furrowed his eyebrows when he noticed Jason was the one standing outside of the school waiting for him, suspicion slipping onto his expression. "You're driving me home?"

"Eventually, but we've got a quick stop to make first."

Duke paused, narrowing his eyes a little and making a face that Jason knew meant he wasn't going anywhere until he got more information. Honestly, he'd have been a terrible superhero if he didn't question such a shady situation, so Jason didn't take it personally when he had to explain himself more.

"I have this friend, and I need to talk to them but they're kinda pissed at the moment, so I can't be the first person they see."

"Meaning you want me to trick someone into meeting with you?"

"Pretty much. I just need a chance to talk to them in private."

"...Where do we have to go?"

Jason somehow managed to get Duke into the car without having to explain all the gritty details. It was very likely that he wouldn't have gotten in if he knew they were picking you up from Arkham. Predictably, he was a little upset when he found out.

"Jason, what the Hell do you got me doing?"

"Nothing bad. Like I said, I have a friend I need to talk to."

"In Arkham Asylum?"

"Yeah, but look: I already handled everything, and they're not high profile. It's just walking in and out."

"And by 'handled' you mean you hacked into the system and forged their release, right? Yeah, go ahead and start the car back up."

"C'mon, please? I swear, this person's harmless, and I took care of everything you could get in trouble for. It's just a quick walk in, and walk out."

"Why do you need to see them so badly in the first place?"

"Because…" Jason hesitated. He was asking for a lot of trust from Duke, yet he found himself hesitant to cross that same bridge. Frowning, he tried to find the best way to word the truth to make himself seem less impulsive. "We've kinda got history, and I fucked them over the last time we talked. I owe them a second chance."

"And the reason you said they're mad at you is because of what you did. What was it?"

"…a lot, actually. Enough to want to be in Arkham rather than around me, so."

Duke hesitated at that, looking apprehensive to become involved in the shit storm that was Jason's relationships. Maybe it wasn't fair of him to ask the younger man to get involved, but Jason needed to be able to do this without the others getting involved. They wouldn't understand and he wasn't confident he could explain it to them. He wasn't wasn't sure if he understood why he needed to see you again himself, but he did know that he was desperately looking for something to focus on besides Roy’s death.

"Look, I know I don't necessarily have the best track record, but I swear this isn't anything crazy. It's just...it's personal and something I need to do on my own."

"Yeah, I get that," Duke said, expression shifting to something closer to pity. “I got you this time, but next time be a little less shady about it.”

"I swear I’ll be more forthright next time. I seriously owe you, thanks."

"You sure do.."

Jason tried not to show it, but the closer they got to the Asylum, the more anxious he was becoming. He hadn't seen you since the night you'd given him that ultimatum. When he'd shot you and begged you to spare Artemis and the city. He hadn't seen her in a while either, but she had her own problems to deal with.

Finally, just as it began to snow again, Jason wound the car up the long road to the Asylum. It hadn't been paved nearly as much as the main roads, so he took care in driving slowly through the thick snow. The delayed ascent only made his nerves worse, so he tried to subtly wipe the sweat from his hands. Duke didn’t seem to notice, shuffling his bags out of the way and shrugging off his school blazer.

"I’ve got an ear piece in case things go sideways, but I doubt you’ll run into trouble," Jason explained once they had parked. Duke nodded, tucking the small device into his ear and rolling his shoulders. He was pretty relaxed for someone who’s been thrown into Jason’s admittedly shitty plan without much preamble.

Once he was settled, Jason went over the plan with him in more detail. He gave him your name, and instructed Duke to follow Arkham's release process and to bring you out to where he'd parked the car. As they spoke, he turned off the car and stepped outside, making sure Duke looked official enough when he did the same.

"Anything else I should know before I commit a felony?"

"It’s not really a felony. At least not a serious one. And no, there’s nothing to worry about." Jason may not know everything you got into working for Oswald, but he knew you weren’t a killer. On a good day, at least.

"Thank God. Guess I'll see you on the other side then?"

"Yep. If you need any help at all, I put a panic button in the pocket if the jacket. It'll send an alert to my phone and I can come to your rescue."

"Roger that," Duke said, and with a quick salute he started off towards the Asylum. Jason waited until he was already inside to reach back into the car and fish out a cigarette to smoke while he waited. He needed something to do other than quietly panic. Was he making a huge mistake? He was pretty sure you'd never wanted to see him again after everything happened. You hated him, after all. But was rotting in Arkham any better? The least he could do was let you out. He couldn't force you to let him help, but he could at least give you your freedom back.

Jason managed to smoke through about half of the cigarette before the doors to the Asylum opened again. He saw the top of Duke's head, and quickly moved to sit inside the car, letting the door hang open. He needed you to get closer before you realized what was happening.

Duke walked around to where Jason was sitting, looking at him expectantly as you shuffled nearer to the car. Jason took one more long drag of smoke before he stamped it out and stood to face you. His heart was hammering so intensely that he was afraid you'd hear it, and he had to drag his gaze upwards to your face. He expected fireworks; anger, yelling and pleading on his end to convince you not to march right back into the Asylum. You'd always been good at surpassing his expectations though, and Jason wasn't sure what to do with the silence he was met with.

The snow had lightened it's descent enough to give him a clear view of the parking lot and the shocked eyes staring his way. He wasn't sure what to make of your expression. It wasn't anything near a hateful glare, to which he was grateful for, but the subtle tug of your eyebrows bothered him and he wasn't sure why. Somehow you looked simultaneously exactly the same and totally different. You didn't say anything, but he could hear the echoes of your voice. The last thing you'd said to him and his last words going back and forth in his head like they were playing tennis, and he'd probably have spun himself dizzy if you hadn't finally found your voice in the extended silence.

"I should have known you were behind this."

Duke shifted back and forth a bit awkwardly on his heels, and Jason took a quick second to glance towards the car. He caught on quickly, seeming grateful to have his own escape from the situation as he hurried into the passengers side of the car. Jason returned his attention to you once he did, squaring his shoulders and taking a bold step forwards. Immediately you took your own step back, shoulders hiking up almost defensively. Jason stopped in his tracks.

"Don't. Why are you here?"

"Because...you don't belong in Arkham."

"Yeah, I do," you scoffed, disbelieving. "You know I do, don't act like you don't."

"You made mistakes, sure, but that doesn't mean you should rot in that hell for the rest of your life. I've done shit too, you know that."

"It's not the same."

"Yeah, it is." Jason took another step forward, and this time you didn't move away. He scanned your face, coming close enough to feel like he wasn't yelling at you across the parking lot. He could see you shivering through your coat, and he was sure it wasn't from the cold.

"I did the shit I did in the past because I was hurting and I know you were the same. I know you're not a bad person, and I know I didn't give you many options-"

"It wasn't your fault." Jason stopped in the middle of his sentence when you spoke up, his own brows coming together in confusion. You dropped your gaze to his feet momentarily, then shifted it up and away from him entirely as you continued.

"There was nothing you could have done, Jason. It wasn't your fault I felt the way I did and did what I did. I just…I lost myself. I wanted you more than anyone or anything I'd ever wanted in my life, and I didn't know what to do. I still don't." You broke off, voice pitching and you swore quietly. Jason's heart lurched watching you swipe at your eyes impatiently, still trying not to look at him.

"I don't know why it happened, but all this time I've been here I've just been so fucking ashamed of it all. Nothing I did was okay, and it wasn't okay to put you through it all. And the worst part is, no matter how awful I feel, I still don't regret doing any of it. Because it meant I got to spend that time with you that I had. It's so fucked up, Jesus christ. I hate the person I became to be near you and I hate that I'd probably do it again if I had the chance to feel like that again. So…just fucking leave me here, okay? This is where I'm supposed to be."

He was being selfish. The thought ripped through Jason's mind as quickly and as violently as a bullet, and he felt it ricochet from his head to his chest. His heart hurt watching you. He could only imagine how you felt watching him come back into your life when you felt the way you did. He knew, in every part of his mind that he should leave you alone. If not in Arkham, somewhere far away where you could hopefully heal and forget about him. Yet, he didn't want you to. He could say it was for heroic reasons all he wanted, but really he needed someone around who understood how he felt, and as far as he knew you were the only person who could.

"It doesn't have to be like this. I don't know how or if I can for sure, but I want to at least try to help you. Please, at least let me do that much."

Your head tilted back, eyes closed as you breathed in and out slowly. Jason didn't move. He was afraid to even breath before you responded, worried about what your response would be. He could see you were tired, likely struggling with the emotional weight of seeing him and dredging up all of your feelings again. He was sorry you had to, and sorry he wasn't strong enough to find some other way to keep his thoughts away from Roy.

Your eyes opened finally, looking as watery as they had before and like you were losing the fight against your tears. For a moment you just watched him, and Jason was glad he couldn't see his own expression in your eyes from where he was standing. He didn't want to even imagine what he looked like, begging someone to fight for something they'd already given up on for his sake.

"It'll be okay," he whispered. It could have been to convince you, or to convince himself for all he knew, but it felt like he needed to say it.

"Fuck," you said eventually. It wasn't an agreement, but it wasn't a denial either. He wasn't sure if you believed him, but you moved towards the car. You were willing to try. Jason hurriedly pulled open the door to the back seat, finally feeling like he could breathe when you climbed in. He shut your door once you were safely inside, settling into the front and buckling in before any of you could change your mind.

Thankfully, when he glanced at Duke in the back, he was tugging out a pair of headphones from his ears and pushing them back into their case. Jason would have to make this up to him somehow. For being there to help and doing something he wasn't comfortable with for Jason's sake, and for respecting his privacy. For now, he caught the younger boy's eye, and gave an appreciative nod. Duke didn't say anything, but gave a small nod in return. He didn't look back at Arkham the entire time they drove away. In the turmoil of getting you the hell out of there, he'd forgotten how much he hated that place. Hopefully he wouldn't have to come back anytime soon. Not for you, at least, and not for a while.

The car ride was tense for a long time, at least until Jason had made it back into the heart of the city. Traffic was hellish at that time of day, so it wasn't much of a surprise that the three of you ended up in the middle of a traffic jam, especially with the snow falling everywhere across the city. He wasn't sure what to say to break the awkward air, and Duke certainly didn't have any ideas with the way he was scrolling endlessly on his phone. Eventually, once the silence had seemed like it would stretch on forever, your voice was the one to break through.

"I guess you're not really my parole officer," you said, leaning a bit to get a better look at Duke. "You did look kinda young."

"Yeah...I don't know how any of them believed that," he said, laughing a little. "I'm Duke"

Jason didn't say anything as the two of you exchanged names. He hadn't known how to introduce the younger man outside of his name considering the reaction he'd gotten mentioning they were technically brothers or something before. Stephanie and the others had distracted him, but Jason remembered seeing something in Duke's reaction that looked upset at the label. It certainly wasn't his business to pry or push the idea, so he left it alone for the time being. Until he knew more, he'd settle for keeping their relationship general as Duke explained that Bruce Wayne was his guardian now.

"This is our second time hanging out, actually," Jason offered after Duke had mentioned Jason kidnapping him after school.

"Interesting second impression," you said, eyebrows raised a little. Jason fiddled with the heat a bit, cranking it up and down after deciding the temperature was probably fine.

"Yeah. How long have you two been friends?"

"Friends?" You mimicked, and when Jason looked into the rear view again, you looked pretty amused at that. Your gaze cut up to catch Jason’s in the mirror, and he internally cursed himself out for looking away as soon as you did.

"Is that what we are?"

“We were at one point.”

“But not anymore?” Duke asked, peering curiously between you and Jason. He seemed caught between wanting to be suspicious and amused by the reaction he'd gotten, watching Jason carefully when he made to respond.

“It's a work in progress.”

“Right,” you said, and Jason had a hard time deciphering your tone. Deciding the conversation had taken a tense turn, he reached for the radio and bathed the car in Christmas carols for the rest of the drive.

Duke was nodding off by the time Jason parked the car. He sat upright once the car was stationary, glancing around and reorienting himself. Finally, his eyes landed on the blue neon sign illuminating the snowy street he’d parked on the side of.

“A laundromat?”

“Yeah. It’s a lot more clever when you see the inside,” Jason said, as he pushed a sly grin onto his face. You didn’t say anything, rolling your eyes as you climbed out of the car. He turned to Duke when you did, stopping him from unbuckling himself. “Wait here.”

He left the keys in the ignition as Duke gave a disappointed affirmation, then slid out of the car himself and crossed the distance to the front door, pulling it open for you to slip inside first.

“Thanks,” you mumbled. The laundromat was quiet, as it usually was, with muted ramblings playing on the small TV set up near the back. Jason had been hoping it’d be empty, but unfortunately Gothamites tended to treat the time as a loose guideline, making patterns and routines as they pleased. Naturally, one of the regulars Jason had been hoping not to see was inside.

Taking up a washer and dryer close to the TV stood one of the nosiest old men he’d ever met. He’d immediately abandoned his enthrallment in the Gotham vs. Metropolis football game to watch the two of you walk into the room, and Jason knew by the raised eyebrow that questions were incoming.

“Night, Mr. Leoni,” Jason grunted. If it were someone else, the short greeting might have dissuaded them from further investigation. Mr Leoni, however, was hard to shake. Jason was pretty sure he’d been in the Falcone mob at some point with the gritty confidence he always carried, but he'd never really looked into it to be sure. All he cared about now was that the man tended to ask too many questions when Jason came home through the dingy laundromat.

“Yeah, yeah. Pretty late for guests, ain’t it?”

“Don’t you have a game to watch?”

“We’re crushin’ em, anyway. 5-0,” he smirked. Jason watched his gaze shift away from himself, eyeing you instead. “Anthony Leoni; pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Jason scowled, ushering for you to continue walking as you introduced yourself. He ignored the teasing ‘have a nice night’ coming from the other room as he led you through the back room. There was a locked storage room and another door with higher security that led to his current home. The building had been a front for one of Maroni’s gangs back when money laundering was still a literal term. Jason had found it a while back and converted the massive basement into a sort of condo space. The first door required a set of generic keys, but the second was a combination of biometrics and a six-digit passcode. He’d probably need to add you to that eventually.

“Ah, I get it now: money laundering,” you mused. Jason cracked a half smile as the second set of locks clicked, pushing the door open and moving out of your way. You wandered into the renovated space, seeming impressed with how it looked. Jason hung back by the door for a moment, trying to imagine what would be going through your mind.

“I don’t actually have a spare, so you can just take my room for now.”

“You know I have my own place, right?”

“The one you tried to blow up?” Jason heard you scoff, despite being a lot further into the room than him. “I think the cops seized that one.”

“That wasn't my only spot,” you replied, shooting him an unimpressed look. “I'd be pretty fucking stupid to show you my only base of operations and try to blow it up.”

“Valid. But we should probably wait to send you over there until we’re sure the release sticks. You never know when Arkham’s going to suddenly follow the rules and find some competency.”

“If you insist,” you hummed, fingers trailing along the couch Jason would be sleeping on. You stopped suddenly, a dark look crossing your expression. “I can’t tell if you’re being naive or insanely overconfident about all of this.”

“What do you mean?”

“You seriously want me to live with you? To sleep in your bed, after everything I did and how I felt?”

“Even if you are still trying to kill me, you wouldn’t get the chance,” Jason replied, knowing he was dodging the root of your question. “So I guess I'm overconfident.”

He heard you let out a quiet laugh, and after a moment of consideration, you seemed to decide on following his tangent away from your words.

“There you go underestimating me.”

“I won’t make that mistake again, trust me.” Jason cringed at the memory of how far into desperation you’d been able to drive him. He tried not to think about how he’d gone from shooting you to kissing you in such a short span of time, or how vividly he remembered doing both.

“You good here for now? I gotta take your parole officer back home; it’s a school night.”

“I guess so.” Jason waited for further explanation, but by the way you settled onto his couch and flicked on his TV, it didn’t seem he would be getting one. He wasn’t sure what else to say, and he was content with the rocky sort of understanding the two of you had fallen into, so he decided to just head out without another word.

Duke was still waiting in the car when Jason got back, talking quietly on the phone. By the time Jason actually got into the car, he’d already hung up and was tucking under his thigh. Jason focused on starting the car and running the past few hours over in his head again. It was going way too easy, especially for something so hastily put together and chaotic. He had to be missing something.

“Alfred said dinner’s almost ready,” Duke explained after a while of sitting in silence. “He asked if you wanted to join us?”

“I probably shouldn’t.” If it wasn’t for the recently sprung arkham inmate wandering around his house, it’d be the scattered thoughts Jason was still trying to sort through. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow anyway, for the tree thing. If I stay too long, they may try to keep me overnight.”

“That does sound like something they'd do,” Duke chuckled. “Seems like you have your hands full anyway.”

“Understatement of the century.”

“I don't really know what your plan is or who that was, but…if you need anything else, I don't mind helping you out.”

“I'd have thought you'd run for the hills the next time I asked for a favor after today,” Jason replied, glancing over and catching the strange seriousness in Duke's eyes.

"I probably should, but it was kinda nice being away from it all. Or at least, around someone who doesn't treat me like a new puppy or a charity case. Believe it or not, I do actually notice that you go out of your way to be chill."

"We all kind of had shitty pasts, but as the resident street-rat turned basket case I get it."

"Yeah, and honestly? Sometimes that's the best thing. Just…being around someone who gets it."

Jason nodded, feeling a light sort of validation settle into his chest. He may have been impulsive in his decision to break you out of Arkham, but at least there had been some sense of logic behind it. A companionship that even Duke seemed to understand as an outsider to the Wayne family dynamics. Maybe that meant Jason wasn't as unhinged as he'd thought he was.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd angst #red hood angst #jason todd slow burn #red hood slow burn #one and only #just say the word

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space-specs · 1 year

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I, T and X <333

Thanks for the ask bestie, this was very fun!!

I - Has tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why

BBC Sherlock. I really wanted to watch this show when it was all over tumblr and all my friends were watching it back in like 2014, but I never got around to it. Eventually, people stepped back and were like "actually, so much about this show sucks so much", and I was just kinda glad I'd never actually watched it yet and now I won't. If I want Sherlock content, tbh, I'll probably just rewatch "Elementary, Dear Data" from Star Trek: TNG. Or finally finish the Enola Holmes stuff.

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending, about anything at all (gender identity, sexual or romantic orientation, extended family, sexual preferences like top/bottom/switch, relationship with poetry, seriously anything)

Duke Thomas cannot make direct eye contact with people. It gives him a splitting headache. Since eyes both absorb and reflect light, looking directly at someone's eyes creates a sort of feedback loop of light beams for him.

Cass is, in all actuality, older than Jason. However, because there is some ambiguity about her precise age, both of them frequently insist they are the older sibling of the two. They could very easily confirm who is older; they both refuse because they don't want to be wrong.

Steph is more of the common sense in the batfam than people give her credit for. Don't get me wrong, she is far from normal (she is vigilante, she grew up in Gotham), but she is the one with the wherewithal to, idk, solve her problems by actually talking to people. She's clever and witty and quick on her feet and actually some really good and really practical people skills.

Duke and Jason are both functionally immortal for different reasons. (Also, they are good brothers and DC needs to bring back the two of them getting to interact).

Tim doesn't call Bruce "dad" and probably never will. Not because he doesn't see Bruce as his parent, but because "dad" has some very complex connotations for him and he doesn't want to apply those to Bruce. More specifically, because good batdad is canon to me, Bruce is better than what "dad" means to him. (It’s also important to me that Jack does try to be a father to Tim and does love him. But loving your kid is not always enough. Sometimes you still hurt them).

There's definitely something I'm forgetting that I'm even more die hard about, but this is already more than I intended on writing for this one 😂 needless to say this is a fun question. (Also maybe putting this out will kickstart me writing the fics I have planned based on 3 of these)

X - top 5-10 characters who are yoUR PRECIOUS BABIES AND YOU WILL DIE DEFENDING THEM

Tried very hard not to just put every single batkid on this list but know that I would go to war for any of them I love them all so much.

In no particular order

1. Jason Todd -- listen, do I think his philosophy on crime should be applied to the real world? No, absolutely not. Has he done anything wrong ever? Also no.

2. Duke Thomas (bonus: the whole We Are Robin crew) -- if you hate Duke Thomas, meet me in Denny's parking lot. Something is clearly wrong with you and I will right it via blunt force trauma /j.

3. Tim Drake -- Catch me untangling the mess that is his fanon and canon characterizations and weaving a beautiful tapestry out of it. I see so many wrong interpretations about him and I am tired. Very carefully sorting out what should and shouldn't be kept from both fanon and canon every time I write him.

4. Cassandra Cain -- she has done nothing wrong ever and she deserves to be Batman. my favorite weirdgirl ever <3

5. Trevor Belmont -- my wife /p just introduced me to Castlevania and I did not expect to love it this much. Trevor is my babygirl and I would die for him.

6. Sypha -- I love her soooo much and I am dreading any potential romantic arcs to come about since she's the female lead because I really don't think she needs it. Please let her be cool af and single and not ruined in favor of the inevitable contrived romance, oh god.

7. Rise!Mikey -- I started my dive into tmnt content with Rise and then I tried to go back and watch 2012 because people said it was also good but they were so mean to Mikey 😭 I couldn't do it. He is like a squeaky toy to me.

8. Rise!Donnie -- I am captivated by his autism swag. Enough said. (Him and Mikey as a brother duo is so precious to me).

9. Razer -- Watch Green Lantern: The Animated Series if you haven't already. Do it. I promise you will not regret it. I won't say anything because spoilers but I have so much to say.

10. Talia al Ghul -- I am taking a knife to canon and carving out the parts I don't like because she is a good mom, goddammit!

Bonus: Koriand'r. I haven't read enough comics to know much about her, but I respect woman juice everyday for my favorite 6+ ft buff alien woman. (She should get to be huge and strong and I will fight for that).

#ask game #spec-text-ular #dc #batfam #batfam headcanons #duke thomas #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #tim drake #jason todd #just tagging the hc section because i don't want to clog up any other tags with this lol #had a lot of fun with this and ending up writing way more than i expected lol

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002yb · 4 months

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Hi its me again im so sorry but i was listening to a song and it made me think of literature university teacher Jason and Dick who ended up in his class bc he needed the credits and he cant be crushing harder on the hot professor who wears cardigans and tight rolled up long sleve shirts that show his arms but he also saw him with a motorbyke and a leather jacket and !!!!!! He cant decide if he wants to fail this class so he can see Jason in tutorys or do so good Jason knows his name, either way he wants jason so bad and it shows. He also flirts with him with lines from the books in class and maiden heart Jay is on his knees but hes gotta be professional.

Hes actually doing good bc even if he wants Jason attention bc he is hot, he is really a good teacher and makes it so easy to understand and follow through and his voice is nice and soothing and Dick loves this class and they have long debates after class about their constrasted perspectives and they might be falling in love oh no.

Also Dick is a menace and he is always down to fluster Jason

Dick: if i suck you off can i pass?

Jason: you got a ten????

Dick: can i still suck you?

(Bonus points if Dick didnt actually want this class but the others were full and nos he cant stop talking about it with everyone he knows, his family is tired his friends are amused)

This idea is so sweet!! Ahhhhhh, I love anything with Dick being down bad for Jason and showering Jason with all the flirty attention and adoration. Add maiden!Jason to it and like, hello. //u///

But let's consider the above with a vigilante!Dick and law professor!Jason, for reasons.

Dick considering dropping out of college up until he happens across professor Todd - a law professor

Who is very passionate and adamant and vocal about his views on Gotham's failure of a judicial system

Dick isn't actually in Jason's class, but Dick overhears a lecture once as he passes by one of the lecture halls and it gets his attention because like - Jason isn't wrong. He speaks up in a way that no one else does and Dick is enthralled by that.

Hell, it even makes him think of his own feelings towards the law, challenging certain insights he'd never really questioned before, but maybe should have

Which he likes. Jason piques his interest, so like a freak Dick inserts himself into all aspects of Jason's life because Dick might be a little in love insatiable about this man's mind

OH. Dick not even knowing what this professor looks like for a while. Because at least at the start, Dick contents himself to sitting just outside the lecture, chilling on the floor and listening in with his head tilted towards the cracked door

But more and more he wants to talk things through and debate and challenge Jason's own views the same way Jason unknowingly has challenged him

So Dick stages a meet-cute chance encounter

Or rather, he was working on fabricating one, but then they actually do have a meet cute chance encounter. Where in true cliche romantic trope fashion, they bump into one another in the halls and all of Jason's papers get dropped and they both rush to pick everything up.

And it's when Jason apologizes that Dick recognizes him because he listens to that voice so much. A quick glance at the course papers confirms it, too so Dick capitalizes so fast

Just pulling out all the charm so that he can start a conversation with this guy

Dick commenting like, 'You're a law professor?'

And Jason immediately jumping on that because, 'are you interested in law?'

Just Jason being really encouraging to get more young people interested in law and being the public defenders their community needs

Dick literally not getting a word in as Jason all but solicits him into the law department before Jason curbs the conversation by telling Dick to sign up for his class next semester. There's a waitlist, but good luck.

And Dick is swept up in the storm because oh, yeah. He needs in on this class. Immediately. That passion? Dick is a goner.

So of course Dick hacks his way into the university's systems to force his way into this class because ain't no way he's waiting around literal months to talk with this man again

It was Dick's plan to stalk Jason and pick him up while Jason was out and about running errands, outside of a scholastic setting

Or by encroaching on some office hours if it came down to it

He's genuinely not interested in higher education, but hell. Hours long lectures multiple days a week with this beautiful mind? Cool.

Anyway, so Dick weasels his way into this law class. Scholastic fraud because he's got a profound curiosity about some local uni professor? Dick is a vigilante; he's done worse. Technically. Legally.

But it's fine. Dick plans to drop out after the course, anyway.

The surprise on Jason's face when he catches Dick sitting towards the front of the class at the start of the following semester. And Dick being so endeared to the way Jason hides a small, hopeful smile. Because Jason thinks he's gotten through to a student ;U;

But yeah, the class being either flummoxed or bored out of their minds because the whole hours long lectures are just two people talking/debating

Which evolves into more talking over office hours - not even necessarily over course work and rather law, their judicial system, crime in Gotham, etc.

Which again evolves into Dick bringing Jason coffee but then becomes them going out for coffee together until their meetings become an expected and anticipated thing //u///

And their talks are generally casual, but it also develops into something personal if only because their stance on certain laws/crimes/punishments speaks a lot about them.

What's more? Personal information comes out organically throughout the course of their conversations

Which is why Jason is hopeful Dick will go into law. Because he comes to understand that Dick is good. Firm, but fair and with nerves of steel. He isn't someone that will be corrupted like so many others. Gotham needs more people like that looking out for it.

Basically Jason already has a letter of recommendation written, meanwhile Dick is in a predicament because he might've fallen in love with his professor between challenged worldviews and bouts of banter?

At which point, of course Dick's vigilante life needs to come into play. Because that's an ongoing thing. Oh, an ongoing thing that has been impacted in various ways by Jason's perspective on matters. ;U; Perspectives that Dick challenges Bruce with, too. And that shuts Bruce up on many wonderful occasions because even if they don't agree, Jason isn't necessarily wrong.

But I digress, Nightwing exists. While Jason and Dick have spoken of vigilantism at a high level, it's not something they've gotten into. Dick makes sure to steer clear of Batman/Robin/Nightwing talk no matter how intrinsically they're tied to Gotham and crime.

Anyway. Nightwing saving Jason in some way one night. And Jason falls in love instantly. Meanwhile Dick is peeved because what? Really? Do their intellectual conversations mean nothing??

Jason is attracted to doers so seeing Nightwing doing something about the crime despite it being technically illegal is like, hot damn

At which point, Dick becomes a lawyer. Just kidding, but the thought probably crosses his mind just because wtf, Jason. Dick being jealous of himself is so funny.

I've strayed so far from the original ask, oh my.

Truth be told, Dick could just...not approach Jason as Nightwing, but it's an opportunity to spend time with Jason so of course Dick seeks him out. Just hanging on the roof of Jason's apartment together. First under the guise of making sure Jason was okay/safe/etc, then to listen to Jason in a different way - somehow more raw while airing his grievances about Gotham and its failings to so many hurting people

Just more vulnerable conversations in the dark of night, y'know?

And more sweet reactions (smiles and flusters and ornery playfulness and--). And god, when Nightwing flirts and Jason blushes -- Dick needs to see it all the time.

But then it's class time and Dick is jealous of himself because he wants the same reactions. So Dick pulls out all the stops and what happens in your ask happens, lol. With Dick flirting using lines in a textbook or the letter of the law.

That he's successful in the matter is something no one understands. Even other students blush some, enthralled by a handsomely charismatic guy with questionable puns and a quick wit and biting humor.

And Jason is just up in front of the class gaping because omg that was so clever but also SOS his heart shouldn't be racing like this?

Hmm. Something something with Jason being smitten over Nightwing to Dick, but confessing to a developing problem with his student to Nightwing. At which point Dick realizes that he's in his own situation because the longer things drag out, the more it feels like he's playing with Jason's feelings and ahhhhhhh!!

Extras, because this ask is ridiculously long and scattered. Kudos to anyone who gets this far??

Jason noticing bruises from Dick's vigilante endeavors, but of course Jason doesn't know the background for it. Just that they're there often and sometimes really bad. So Jason worries about Dick's home life, or his life with a partner.

And Dick uses it as an opportunity to flirt/drop hints about being single as can be, only to get all soft when he realizes Jason is honest to god so worried for him. ;U;

The last lines of dialogue you wrote are so funny. Just Dick stopping at nothing to fuck his teacher. Sexual favors for extra credit? Oh, perfect score? How about a reward then? ;) Ahhhahaha Jason would be flabbergasted. Just //A///

#dickjay #jaydick #this is the most scatterbrained reply oh no #there’s the bones of something in here though??

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moonlitdesertdreams · 2 years

Text

Morning Routine

Request: From Anon- 'bruce gets back after a rough night as batman and the reader pampers him n shit'

Summary: Taking it day by day is much easier than having a routine when it comes to Bruce Wayne and his nightly activities. Tags: Bruce Wayne x Reader, Bruce Wayne, Batman, The Batman, Battinson, vacation, DC Universe, fluff, angst, sadness A/N: This is my second time posting this- for some reason it wasn't displaying correctly the first time so hopefully this is better. p.s. 'pampers and shit' got a little lost, please enjoy this ANGST :)

Warnings: None, just a lot of dramatic sadness

Word Count: 1.6k+

Trying to develop a morning routine in Wayne Manor was useless.

Every day was different, and every day required a different level of care.

Some mornings, Bruce would come home from the bowels of Gotham and retire straight to bed. A quick stop in the en suite bathroom to rinse the oil paint away from his eyes and the blood from his knuckles resulted in more time curled in bed next to you. Those days were the easiest. Your soul was content to rest beside his, cocooning the Prince of Gotham in sweet, warm comfort; contrasting the cold, wet brutality inflicted on him by the streets each night.

On other days, Bruce would nudge you awake. Dark bangs would fall over his eyes, and an immense amount of guilt painted its way across his face as he asked for help patching his wounds. You handled him gently on these days, reassuring him it wasn’t a bother. It was all soft touches, dimmed lights and quiet whispers to aid his insomniatic tendencies. While you tended to oozing gashes and blossoming bruises, Bruce scribbled in his journal with whatever pen he could nab from your work bag beside the bed. A few antiseptic swabs and two or three sutures later, your patient would down abhorrent amounts of ibuprofen and allow you to lead him to bed when he finished recording the horrors he had witnessed that night.

But today was, by far, the worst type of day. You woke up alone, with rays of sunlight beginning to peek through the blinds. One hand automatically reached to your side, meeting empty sheets. With a bed void of one its occupants, you sat up and glanced at the clock.

7:22 A.M.

In the dining room, Alfred sat in quiet solitude at the table. His eyes met yours, and he could only shake his head in a wordless answer to the question you didn’t ask.

“I’ll go.” You offered, already turning back towards the bedroom to collect what you’d dubbed the ‘bad day bag’.

The bag consisted of the necessities- a first-aid kid, toothbrush, change of clothes, and a thin gray blanket. On the bad days, it was the things she’d need to coax Bruce from his waning high. The simplest parts of life, each bringing a piece of Bruce Wayne back to the vacant body the Batman left behind.

So, dressed in nothing more than leggings and an old hoodie of Bruce’s, with beat-up crocs on your feet, you rode the elevator to his garage. The actual bats screeched their disdain for your arrival, flapping wildly out of the elevator shaft to find a new resting place. With a disorienting jolt the elevator stopped, and you waited for the doors to creak open.

As per usual, the garage smelled of motor oil and rain; dark grime covered every tangible surface. All of the ambient lights were off, a single yellow light glowing above the elevated work station. The object of your concern was hunched over said workbench, sitting with long limbs crammed onto the single stool. Still donning his cowl and mask, sans the cape which was tossed over the fender of his car, Bruce was scrawling cursive words across the pages of his journal.

You stumbled in the darkness, cursing quiety and switching your phone flashlight on to guide you to the stairs leading up to Bruce. It wasn’t until you bumped purposefully into the railing that his head snapped towards you, eyes squinting at the excess light provided by your phone. You started at his sudden movement, but the adrenaline clearly hadn’t vacated him yet as he caught your wrist with one smooth movement.

“Thanks.” You murmured, righting yourself on the platform.

He returned to his writing without comment, and you slowly made your way to his side. One hand trailed up his spine, covertly scanning the kevlar plates for gashes or holes where he could be injured. Your other hand set the Bad Day Bag on the ground and came to rest on his thigh, rubbing reassuring circles against the armor there.

“Can I take this off?” Your voice was quiet, spoken near the cowl you desired to pull away from his hair.

Bruce paused in his writing, carefully setting down the pen and closing the journal on it. His eyes met yours, shining against the paint encircling them. There was something reflected in them you were all too familiar with, and you deduced it to be anxiety as he nodded.

Your hands slid underneath the cowl, lifting it from his head and freeing his sweat-soaked hair from its confines. Bruce hissed as it pulled away from his face, and you frowned at the gash stretching the length of his right temple. An inspection of the mask proved it to be intact, so you deduced it had to have been inflicted from a heavy blow rather than a blade.

Now without his persona to hide behind, the eyes of Bruce Wayne blinked up at you from beneath his long, paint-laden eye lashes. His hands eventually traveled to your hips, settling there as you prodded at his newest battle scar.

“How’s your head?” You asked.

After two years of nursing his wounds you’d found that, even with a medical degree, it was hard to properly diagnose someone when normal symptoms of concussions or infections could be caused by his abnormal schedule. Blurred vision and light sensitivity were normal for Bruce, and couldn’t be used as an indicator for a concussion.

“Sore.” He answered, allowing you to swipe at the wound with antiseptic. “No concussion.”

You raised a brow. “You sound so sure.”

Bruce only hummed, eyes looking far beyond you as he most likely replayed the night’s events. Whatever it was, haunted him this morning.

“What happened tonight?” Your voice was firm as you finished cleaning the cut on his face. It no longer bled, but looked angry as you did your best to keep his dirty hair away from it.

As an unsatisfactory answer to your question, Bruce stood from his perch and wandered around the workbench. He returned momentarily with another stool, placing it flush against his without a word.

You climbed onto the stool, sitting cross legged to the best of your ability. Bruce returned to his seat, this time facing you and dipping his face to rest in the crook of your neck. Turns out, you were both going to be in need of a shower as Gotham’s grime transferred onto your clothes and grease paint covered your neck.

Despite the sweat and dirt-caked state of his hair, one of your hands came to run through it as the other danced up and down his spine. His body still trembled with adrenaline, though exhaustion was beginning to win out in the throes of his withdrawal.

“There was a shooting… I tried to help.” Bruce spoke against your neck, hot breath eliciting shivers from your body. “The woman had a little girl with her. Gordon took her.”

The depth of his sorrow bled into you as you registered how this night had exhumed years of trauma from his neatly- curated psyche. Kids were a soft spot of Bruce’s- you knew this for many years, and the idea was only solidified when he dove toward’s the mayor’s son and saved him at the funeral all those months ago.

“I know you did everything you could.” You reassured, “Gordon will make sure she ends up somewhere safe.”

Bruce’s hands clawed at your body, searching for something to hold onto while you helped him process his grief. “It should have never happened.”

You bit back tears at the tone of his voice, and pulled his face from the safety of your neck to kiss his chapped lips. The kohl around his eyes began to run off his cheeks in black beads, and you used your thumbs to wipe at the polluted tears.

“Baby, you know this guilt eats at you when you let it.” You continued softly stroking his face until the paint began to dissipate.

Another kiss to his lips, and he was returning it with primal intensity, teeth biting into your bottom lip. His body was molding to yours, feeling like he was trying to weld himself to you. Desperation always surged in the battlefield of his emotions, and you did your best to keep it at bay and show him his best was enough. Gotham was a terrible place at night, and no matter how hard Batman worked, bad things would still happen.

It wasn’t until your hands pressed gently on his shoulders that the hitching of his breath became obvious. You allowed him to hide from your gaze, concealing his face back in the crook of your neck as tears escaped his eyes and the anguish bled through.

A brief duck allowed you to snag the blanket from the bag you’d brought, and you draped it around him until the tremors stopped and it was only the shaking of sobs that moved you both. In the end, the city’s protector, symbol for hope, also had emotions.

On the street, Batman was a stoic symbol for the citizens of Gotham. An unwavering hero after the Riddler’s devastating plots, and ironically, a light in the dark. In the eyes of the people, he was strong and intimidating, guiding people and police away from the corruption drowning the city for so long.

But no human could carry that without consequences. In the morning, Batman fought through pain for the people of Gotham. He carried the city’s sins in the form of bruises and bullet holes. After trying to save her mortally wounded mother, he cried for the little girl left an orphan. In the morning, he would crawl into the arms of the one person he truly loved and search out restitution while his body came down from the high it was running on all night.

Barely audible, Bruce’s voice trickled into your ears. “Come to bed with me?”

You kissed the top of his head. “Always.”

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