batslair

[batslair]

so, anyway, chinga la migra. fuck ICE. no one’s illegal on stolen land and hell, even if they were “illegal”, the immigration process in America is a convoluted nightmare that can take years and thousands of dollars. ICE is detaining and deporting people outside of courtrooms while they attempt to legally go through the process. They’ve detained documented immigrants and American citizens. They’ve detained and deported European tourists who were traveling to America on vacation.

And, I cannot stress this enough, even if someone did come to this nation as an undocumented individual, they believed in the American dream enough to seek the protection and freedom of a nation that is now firing tear gas and rubber bullets at citizens who are exercising their first amendment rights.

But no, go ahead and keep spitting out your fascist-fed talking points. I don’t understand how you’re struggling to find something to write when half of your page is an insult to literature everywhere.

[batslair]

Future Lover - Chapter 2- Jason Todd x Reader

Synopsis: Trying to make it in Gotham, you are dragged clawing and screaming into a time travel mess with a man who claims to be your future husband.

Author’s Note: still messing around with the formatting of these posts, please bear with me! I've seen a lot of authors on here who have such amazing aesthetics, tryna figure mine out lol

So this fic was actually inspired by this post, by @cipheress-to-k-pop.

Thank you so much for your awesome writing and support :)))). Please go check them out!

And thank you to everyone who liked/reblogged/commented on my last post, it means a whole lot. I'm planning on expanding this into a whole chaptered work, so watch this space!

Also, in this chapter I had to write a fight scene, which I've never done before, so please bear with me <:)

Content: Blood, mention of injuries, violence. nothing too gore-y though.

Word Count: 2.7k

No Grammarly we die like men

The tunnel was cold, dark, and loud. The echoes of a battle commenced, requests for support, and slang that you couldn't understand, let alone fully hear, echoed through the eight-lane tunnel. You could barely see a thing, but you could feel the man holding you. His chest was heaving; he’d clearly been running and exerting himself. His breath was warm, and his armour cold. A thin sheen of sweat coated his face, and he licked the sweat from above his top lip. 

He grinned, almost stupidly, at you, before gently putting you on the ground. His bright eyes, one blue, and one bright green, stared down at you, with an unreadable but almost elated expression, before he pulls you aside to hide you both behind a small sedan. It was then you realised your mouth was agape. You quickly closed it.

“Hey, so, here’s the plan. You’re gonna have to wait here, and I’m gonna deal with these guys, and then I’ll explain everything, okay? Take you somewhere real nice, okay, ma?” His voice is low and mature, and a little bit husky, but he speaks to you with a boyish familiarity. A tone that confuses the hell out of you.

You just stare at him, wide eyed like an owl. No words leave your mouth, which has again fallen open. He stared back with a soft lopsided grin, panting. His hand reaches up to click his muzzle on, goggles attached, and when you look into his eyes again they are obscured by white lenses. He speaks again, his voice different under the mask.

“Hah. Yeah, okay. I’ll see you real soon, okay?”

And just like that, he was gone. And you were left staring at the concrete where he had crouched in front of you just seconds ago.

What the hell?

Your impending mental spiral is interrupted by a jarring screech somewhere to your left, but the car blocks your view. Not even thinking to mentally prepare yourself, you peer over the red sedan, and your eyes catch another car, skidding along the road of the tunnel, sending sparks flying. 

In front of you, the scene is chaos. The man who caught you, nowhere to be seen amidst the darkness. But you can see some familiar symbols. Red Robin, perched atop a white van that has toppled to its side, holds his hand to his ear and seems to be contacting someone.

You catch a glimpse of the deep plum cloak of Spoiler, as she flips and ducks, perfectly dodging some incoming arrows. Those arrows, where are they coming from? It’s hard to tell, as the shooter seems obstructed from your view behind another car, and it’s even harder to tell when Red Robin tosses in a smoke bomb, right into the middle of it all.

You blink and cough slightly, your eyes and throat burning slightly from the smoke, but you remain glued to the hood of the car, by the right front wheel; your front row seat to all the action. Your eyes dart to the right, seeing the opportunity to leave, sprint to the tunnel’s bright exit, but you hesitate. The man who caught you told you to stay put. You should, right? I mean, he’s a trained hero, he knows what he’s doing.

But as the smoke continues to billow out, and the sounds of violence continue, your resolve to stay falters. You make one last glance back at the battlefield, then run, low and fast, to hide behind a car nearer to the exit.

You trip and stumble, your kitten heels catching on the rough concrete, and careen forward, nearly faceplanting on the ground. The road shreds your knees and hands, tearing through the fabric of your pants, and you hiss and cry out in pain.

Fuck! I’m in the open, I gotta keep going!

You hobble to rest behind the car in front of you, and take a deep breath, trying to steel your nerves. Always so damn uncoordinated. Then you get back onto your feet, and carry on with your escape.

Keeping low and trying to stay calm, you cast glances backwards to make sure there aren’t any arrows or flying cars heading in your direction, and go again, this time to a smaller green hatchback. 

Huffing, you’re already a little out of breath and you lean up against the car, trying to catch your breath a little. Man, I have gotta cut down on the smokes after this is all over.

FFSSHHHH-VUMP!

Your head shoots up, towards the sound of an impact into the tunnel wall a few feet behind you. It’s a batarang, lodged into the side of an arrow, piercing the concrete, and glueing the two to the wall. But you can see a small light from the head of the arrow, pulsing, faster and faster. Your eyes bulge and your heart lunges, beating so hard against your ribcage you feel like a human drum. Instinct takes over, and faster than your brain can comprehend, you’ve tucked into yourself and have wrapped your arms around your head. Squeezing your eyes shut, you brace for impact, vibrating like a mouse’s heartbeat. 

“Oh, shit, shit, shit! Stay down!”

You feel the crash of another body into yours, arms wrapping tightly atop your head, kevlar plate pressed against your back-

BOOM!!

Heat envelops you, and your hair whips around your face wildly, like a thousand tiny thorned whips. Your skin burns slightly. As quickly as it started, its over. And then, a loud high pitched whining, and the feeling of… stuff, on your face. You open both eyes, and everything feels tight and loud. Your scraped and bleeding knees are pulled up to your chest, and you can see the bright green paint of the car your cower next to, and the wheel. Your breathing, rapid and pulsing, becomes your main focus, and you try to slow it down. I think I survived that…

You feel the body behind you stir, too. Large arms turn you around to face a broad chest, and you can hear muffled speaking, though it’s inaudible, under the loud white noise that now invades your head. Hands brush along your face, and you feel the grainy dust get swept away under gloved hands.

“-light……-ay here, okay?.....-ay…. Hey! -an you hear me? Hey!”

You look up at him, blinking the dust and debris from your eyes, but you don’t respond. It’s the same guy as before…. Red muzzle, white lenses, red hood. He’s looking at you, his hands placed on your shoulders, crouched between you and the blast. Your back rests against the side of the car, and you tilt your head back, sharp knives of pain shooting through your skull. It feels like someone has popped a balloon inside your head.

At least the white noise is subsiding.

“Hey! Focus up! I need you to stay with me, okay?”. Red Hood declares to you again, his voice slightly muffled by the mask, but audible all the same.

His voice is different this time. Still deep, and a bit gravelly, but less so than before. He sounds almost... younger?

“I’m here, okay. I can hear you”, you confirm, nodding softly, scrunching your face up in an effort to combat the headache you know is coming.

“Okay, good. Thought we had a bigger problem there, tha’s good.” He replies, shoulders relaxing just a touch. “We’re gonna need to get you outta here, okay? So you’re coming with me.”

You look up at him with furrowed brows, confused once again.

“But you said to stay put?”

He looks down at you, and behind the mask you can see his confusion.

“No, I didn’t-” He sighs, exasperated. “We don’t have time for this.”

He grabs you by the arms and hoists you to your feet, and now the both of you are standing, bent slightly to hide behind the hatchback. Your legs tremble like a newborn deer, and you look down to lightly brush some gravel out of your scraped and bleeding palms.

He peers over the hood of the car, to observe the battle ahead of you, and you follow suit. Spoiler and Red Robin hunch behind a flipped car, Spoiler holding onto Red Robin’s side. He’s bleeding.

A flash of electric blue, and you see Nightwing, with Robin in tow, running full pelt at a young man. He stands, chest puffed out, wearing dark combat clothes and hoisting a taught bow, firing multiple rapid-fire arrows that explode around Nightwing and Robin’s feet. But they’re too nimble, and he is forced to use his bow to parry Nightwings sticks.

Robin, meanwhile, is busy dodging a motorcycle that is hurled towards him. A few feet from him stands a young woman, with glowing blue eyes. Her hands are outstretched, clutching the air, and you can see now that she’s got some sort of superpower. She grunts and shrieks, but you can’t quite make out what she says.

You turn to face Red Hood, who observes the scene with a heaving chest. 

“W-what do we do?” You ask, still a bit dizzy.

He turns to face you. From this angle, the way he towers over you, he looks a bit like a rabid dog, or a wolf. His mask lenses are bleach white, and the muzzle bloody red. His hood, draped over his crown, barely covers his sweat-drenched hair, which sticks to his forehead.

“We’re gonna run, alright? I’m gonna get’chu to the mouth of the tunnel, then you’re gonna keep running, got it?” 

You barely even get the chance to react, before you notice the hatchback being lifted into the air. The shiny green car levitates towards the ceiling of the tunnel, and for a moment everything slows down.

A young woman’s voice rings out.

“Guess I’m gonna have to kill your girl again, Hood!”

It’s not taunting, more reverent and threatening than anything, and it’s followed by a howling response from a man.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Ophidia!” 

And your eyes track the voice. The first, from the young woman you saw deflecting Robin before. She’s closer to you now, and you can see her more clearly now. She’s young, younger than you, and lanky like a teenager. She’s frighteningly skinny, with pale blonde hair and even paler skin. Her eyes, glazed like pools of milk, stare at you and Red Hood, and the 1.5 ton car that floats above the two of you, with a look that can only be described as entranced, like she’s witnessing something holy.

The second voice rings out again.

“Get her away! Now!”

That voice, familiar in a way, comes from the man who caught you from your fall before. Red Hood. His familiar worn red muzzle and white-lensed mask adorn his face, but you can hear the panic and tension in his voice. His command is for Red Hood, who stands beside you. The man continues running towards Ophidia, guns drawn, and every muscle in his body seems driven to overpower and disarm the deranged young woman.

WHOOSH!

The car comes hurtling down, and in a split second the Red Hood beside you has pulled you away and down, and you’ve crash-landed onto his chestplate, adorned with the signature red bat-symbol.

CRUNCH!

The green hatchback is no more.

Glass and metal shatter around you, but you feel his gloved hands covering your head as he tucks and curls you behind him. Two-for-zero on the amount of times Red Hood has shielded me with his body in the past five minutes. God, I just wanna go home.

A shard of glass nicks your ear and you can move under the weight of Red Hood’s arms. But you don’t have to, because in a split second he’s scooped you up into his arms and is running full pelt towards the exit of the tunnel, only to screech to a halt as another car comes crashing down in front of his path. He whips his neck around, desperately trying to get you out of this. Your arms tighten around his neck.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

But you hear the whistling, whipping sound of fabric, and the both of you look towards the sound.

Batman. 

Oh, thank fuck.

Perched atop an SUV that has somehow managed to stay on all four wheels, he blends well with the shrouded darkness of the tunnel. But you can see his lenses, white ovals poking from underneath the cowl, as he squints at the adversaries his team faces.

“B!” Red Hood, the one who has you in his arms, calls out. His chest puffs out, in confidence and relief.

Batman looks over to us, nods solemnly, then launches himself towards the girl. From your position in Red Hood's arms, you watch as he completely overwhelms her in a flurry of tactical manoeuvres, all whilst dodging arrows from her counterpart. Supported by Nightwing, and Robin, the two of them are pushed further and further back, until the young man cries out.

“Ophidia, retreat!”

The response that comes is harsh and whiny.

“Felix, I’m not gonna-”

“Ophidia, we’re not gonna win this, we gotta go!”

She growls, then, like she’s pulling out the last trick she knows, reaches her hands to the ceiling, fingers crooked like claws. The concrete ceiling of the tunnel collapses, creating an explosion of rubble and pale dust that fills the air. You tuck your head into Red Hood’s chest, shielding yourself from the noise and debris. The dust settles quickly, and the two are gone.

Red Hood puts you gently on the ground, then breathes deeply. He looks down at you, a hand still on your back, steadying you.

“You alright?”

You look back up at him, blinking, and still in a bit of shock. You nod, slowly.

“Yeah, yeah. I think I’m okay.”

A figure comes running towards you, and you have to make a double take. He’s… wearing the exact same outfit as the Red Hood that stands beside you.

“Hey, sweetheart, you alright?” He pants out as he reaches you, and you have to glance between him and the hero that stands to your left, hand still placed on your back. It’s a bit disconcerting to be asked the same question…. twice.

The Red Hood beside you is the first to speak.

“Hey man, thanks for your help back there, but we’re not looking for copycats. So, kindly fuck off.”

The Red Hood in front of you, chuckles beneath the mask.

But before he can respond, Batman’s footsteps approach the three of you.

“Someone needs to explain this situation to me right now.” He states, gruffly. His voice, smooth in its commanding presence, brings a mixture of fear and awe to your chest. You stare at the looming Bat in front of you with wide eyes. Your mouth refuses to speak in such a presence. For some reason I feel like I’m in trouble.

The Red Hood next to you pipes up again. With a tone that tells you he’s totally and utterly done, he addresses Batman.

“It’s nothin’ serious, B, just another fanboy. I’ll sort him out.” 

“HAH! Fanboy? You wish, squirt.” The other Red Hood quips back, clearly smiling beneath the mask. Before anyone can respond, he flicks back the hood, and removes the mask from his face with one hand, letting it hang against his chest. It’s the man that caught you from your leap from the bus before. His hair, sweat-heavy and stuck to his forehead, same as it was before. Raven black, with a snow white streak in the front, salty flecks of white and grey throughout his hairline, showing his age. Crows feets, and the scars of many battles crease his sharp and defined face. Heterochromia; one ocean blue eye, one a radioactive green.

The Red Hood beside you stiffens. So does Batman.

“What the fuck?” Red Hood blurts out.

“Yeah. Still a fanboy?” Red Hood replies, arrogantly.

Your eyes dart from one reaction to another, and Red Hood removes his hand from your back. 

“Jason?” Batman murmurs, mouth slightly agape, showing slivers of pearly white teeth.

“The one and only!” The older Red Hood stretches his arms out, like a jester in a royal court, and puff his chest out proudly. “Well, not anymore.” He grins to the Red Hood who stands beside you.

“What the fuck, man! Put your mask back on, she’s a civilian, she can’t know what I look like.” The Red Hood beside you scolds him, incredulously. 

“Now why would I wanna hide my face from my lovely wife, huh?” The older one replies.

Silence.

“What?!” You and Red Hood shout in sync.

Tag list:

@c4xcocoa @coffeemin

@theendofthematerialgworl

(I hope i did that right.)

AHHHH I hope you like it. I spent all night working on it, and avoiding my actual responsibilities hehe

[batslair]

𝒵𝑜𝓂𝒷𝒾𝑒𝒷𝑜𝓎

Jason Todd x Reader

A/n: Hi my beautiful people so I love Lady Gaga and Zombieboy has been on repeat for me since the album dropped. So I made an inspired story off of it. The highlighted green are the lyrics inspo. I also saw someone like a few weeks ago saying how the song reminded them of Jason also so if it was you i’m please write it :( I hope you guys enjoy!! you can always leave feedback or request too🖤🖤

1:16am. Jason’s watch reads as the pounding music slams into his skull.

The classic saying, “How did I end up in this situation?” sadly didn’t apply to Jason right now — because he knew exactly what led him here. Not like he could forget, especially with Dick’s annoying voice nagging in the earpiece.

“Oh come on, Jason, you’re being a sore thumb just standing there glaring,” Dick says.

Jason let out an annoyed gruff. He knew Dick was just trying to get him to make a fool of himself. He was undercover at the Iceberg Lounge to get intel — not to party. It had all started with a tip about a drug deal they’d been trying to shut down, supposedly set to happen around five minutes before 2am. Dick was supposed to be in position — not Jason. But of course, Tom, Barbara, and Dick started teasing, swearing Jason wouldn’t be able to be undercover and have fun at the same time. Which was total BS, because he’d done exactly that the first time he came back to Gotham.

“Jesus, at least drink som—”

“I’m done with you,” Jason harshly interrupted, muting the earpiece.

As he scanned the club — eyes practically rattling from how loud the music was — something caught his attention and made his heart stop like he’d died all over again.

He saw you.

It was like a quiet beacon of light in a sea of crimson hues and smoke. Easy to miss, but not for him. Never for him. Especially when it came to you. You stood out effortlessly, dressed in a red backless dress that clung to you like a secret, barely reaching your knees. Black heels made your legs look longer, sharper, like you could cut through any bullshit thrown your way. His gaze locked onto your back, and his anger rose again but with a strange twing protectiveness now—because he could’ve sworn he saw you at home before he left.

✦☠︎⋆🧟‍♂️✩♡✩🧟‍♀️⋆☠︎✦ ✦☠︎⋆🧟‍♂️✩♡✩🧟‍♀️⋆☠︎✦

You hadn’t planned on going anywhere. You were happily binge-watching your favorite show, enjoying a much-needed self-care day after a week of chaos in the ER — plus playing nurse to your accident-prone, drama-filled roommate and best friend. You deserved this day off. The universe, however, had other plans.

Just as you were about to start the next episode, the doorbell rang. You opened it to see your best friend standing there in all her mini-dress glory.

“We are going out,” Ashley said, excitement laced in her voice.

“Aww, sweetie, there’s no U in we. I thought you knew that by now,” you replied. And just like that, her excitement morphed into determination.

You already knew your fate.

✦☠︎⋆🧟‍♂️✩♡✩🧟‍♀️⋆☠︎✦ ✦☠︎⋆🧟‍♂️✩♡✩🧟‍♀️⋆☠︎✦

Now here you were — swirling the dark Hennessy in your cup, already regretting the decision. Your heels stabbed into your feet with every shift. You tilted your head back, letting the bitter liquor sting your throat when you suddenly felt a familiar presence behind you.

“I’m not interested,” you said lazily, the words slipping out in a slight slur.

“Oh, trust me, babe. I know.”

That rough voice — one you knew all too well — made your heart skip. You almost lost your balance as you whipped around and looked up into those green eyes you knew like the back of your hand.

“Jay? What are you doing here?” you asked your best friend.

“I thought you were on patrol,” you added in a whisper.

Your brain started spiraling.

Why was he here? Jason hated clubs. On his off days — which usually lined up with your mornings off — he preferred lounging at home with you. But lately, he’d been distant, always coming up with excuses to stay holed up in his room to “sleep.” You would’ve brushed it off, since he was always running himself ragged as a vigilante… but something felt off. He didn’t sleep well, and you knew it.

So, you started spiraling. What if he was seeing someone? You’d caught him hanging with Artemis a few times lately — and considering their history, that stung. You tried to bury it, though. The last thing you wanted was to ruin your friendship with awkward feelings. So you swallowed it down, like always.

Ashley, however, had seen it all. The matching keychains — yours a sun, his a moon. The fridge notes when you guys didn’t see eachother in the day. The way Jason tracked your location and panicked if you didn’t move for too long. She saw the toll the distance was taking on you — and that’s exactly why she dragged you out tonight.

“I can’t tell you everything right now,” Jason finally replied after a pause. “But why are you here? And why are you alone?”

“I’m not alone — Ashley’s dancing,” you said, eyes scanning the club. “Right there.”

Jason followed your gesture and spotted Ashley dancing, a girl pressed closely against her. You saw the way his shoulders relaxed a little.

“You shouldn’t be out here too long, doll. It’s not gonna be safe for either of you.”

His voice softened as he really looked at you. You never drank this much — and it made him wonder what was going on in that head of yours that you hadn’t told him.

“Yeah, well, nice to know you somewhat still care,” you snapped, surprised by your own words. You looked away quickly. Swallow it, Y/N.

“What are you sa—”

“Anyways, where’s your girlfriend? I see she’s not here,” you cut him off, tone sharp.

So much for swallowing it, Y/N.

“Jesus. How drunk are you?” Jason huffed. You didn’t answer — just stared at him, lips sealed.

He knew you weren’t going to say anything, so he gave you what he could offer.

“Artemis isn’t my girlfriend, Y/N. She’s a friend. That’s it.”

Your heart clenched as you looked at him, sadness starting to seep through your facade.

“Then why have you been avoiding me, Jay?”

Your voice had dropped, the fire replaced by something quieter — more vulnerable.

Jason wanted the gods to strike him down right then and there. He never meant to hurt you. Never. If anything, he thought he was doing the right thing. Giving you space. Taking a step back so you wouldn’t have to constantly deal with him, his chaos, his damage.

But every time he stepped back, it felt like he was cutting himself off from the only peace he had.

There was a time he had nothing. Nothing to wake up for. Nothing to look forward to. And then you came crashing into his life like a goddamn sunrise he didn’t ask for—but desperately needed.

He didn’t even realize how much you meant to him until the demon spawn himself, Damian, asked him bluntly: “What exactly makes you happy?”

And the first thing—hell, the only thing—that came to mind was you.

And that terrified him.

So he pulled away.

That scared the hell out of him. So he backed off. He thought it would protect you — protect him. But seeing your face now, he hated himself for it.

It was already 1:30am. He didn’t have much time, so he gave you what he could.

“Doll… I would never avoid you for someone else. Trust me. It’s something I need to figure out for myself first.”

You looked up and saw the way his eyes dilated when they met yours. You always trusted him — and even now, some part of you still did. So you let it go… for now.

Your smile returned, but it had a mischievous twist this time as you felt somewhat bold. You grabbed his scarred hands and leaned in.

“You know, if you’re undercover, you’ve got to blend in,” you whispered.

Jason raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the way his pulse spiked at your touch. Before he could respond, you were already dragging him to the dance floor.

“Y/N, I don’t have time for this nonsense,” Jason said, though his tone was half-laughing.

“Come on, Zombieboy. I need some sort of forgiveness from you,” you teased, giggling.

Jason let you take the lead. You grabbed his hands, placed them on your hips, and began swaying. Liquid courage, you thought to yourself. You were definitely going to scream into a pillow about this in the morning.

When Jason stopped moving, you froze, heart pounding. You were about to pull away when his hands began to move again — fingers tracing your waist, matching your rhythm. You could’ve sworn you saw heaven.

After a few minutes, Jason turned you to face him. You’d met his gaze a hundred times before, but this one felt different. More intense. He couldn’t see straight anymore.

“This is a dangerous game you’re playing, Y/N,” he murmured, lips close.

“I never said this was a game, Jason,” you whispered back, voice barely above a breath. You were scared — unsure if he felt the same. But in that moment, you didn’t care. You just wanted him.

Your lips were inches away when his watch buzzed.

1:50am. Time was up.

He pulled away, the Red Hood demeanor slipping back into his place.

“You need to leave with Ashley. Now.” His voice was firm — desperate.

You nodded, slowly letting go of his hand.

“Okay, Jay. But stay safe. You owe me an explanation,” you said, your tone playfully sharp.

“Oh, I owe you way more, doll.” Jason grinned as you gave him a flustered smack to the bicep — your classic move when he flustered you.

Before you could walk off, he yanked you in and his rough lips crashed into your soft ones. Yup you were definitely now levitating to heaven.

He pulled away without a word and turned, walking off quickly — mostly to hide the blush creeping up his face.

You were stunned. You knew you’d be dreaming about that moment for weeks. Eyes around the club were on you, so you scrambled for cover:

“Whatever, asshole! You’re better off a fantasy anyway!” you shouted, stomping off dramatically.

Jason nearly laughed, knowing exactly why you did it — to protect his cover.

As he headed to the back of the club, two men entered — fitting the target’s description. He realized, belatedly, that his earpiece had been muted way longer than it should’ve been. He quickly unmuted it — and immediately regretted it.

“ZOMBIEBOYYYYY — did you know you only muted me from your side?” Dick’s voice sang, mimicking your tone with a dramatic edge.

“Shut the fuck up and focus, Dickhead,” Jason snapped.

“Oh please — says the guy dancing the night away with his girl.”

Jason chose to ignore him. He had a mission to finish — and a promise to keep. One he intended to make up to you, starting the moment this night was over.

[batslair]

What Cat?

Pairing: Jason Todd x Latina!Reader!Fem!Reader x Red Hood

Quick Summary: You are Selina Kyle’s adopted daughter, dating Jason Todd. You’re not adopted legally, but she secretly took you in as a child. You avoid the chaotic life your mom and boyfriend live, but a fluffy little creature has other plans.

A/N: The reader uses some Caribbean Spanish slang:

• Micho (means kitty)

• Bodega (corner store/deli)

• Coño (fuck)

☪︎･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂☪︎･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆

For as long as you can remember, ever since you were “adopted” by Selina, she has tried to keep you away from the vigilante, anti-hero, and villain lifestyle. It wasn’t just her decision—it was mutual. You wanted to live a “normal life,” as normal as Gotham could get. The one thing that connects you both is your love for cats, which leads you to your current predicament: chasing an injured, homeless black cat through Gotham’s docks at 1 a.m.

“Micho, Micho, come here, cutie,” you coo in the sweetest voice you can manage.

“C’mon, gatita, I have food for you.”

With a deep sigh, you place a can of sardines on the cold, concrete, grime-stained ground. What were you even thinking? It’s the middle of winter, and you’ve been chasing this cat for 30 minutes. You have no idea where you are. All you know is that you’re in the docks—in Gotham—at 1 a.m.—in the freezing cold. And as the chill seeps into your bones, all you can think is, If I’m cold, the cat has to be colder. So, you do what anyone with a heart would do. You keep chasing it.

“I’m gonna leave this precious new can of sardines here, okay?” you call out, a teasing edge to your tone. “Hopefully, no one takes i—”

Your sentence is cut short by a buzz from your phone.

Reaching into your coat pocket, you pull out the glowing device, its brightness stinging your eyes, now accustomed to the dark. The caller ID reads Cat Mom.

“Hello?” you answer, attempting your best “I’m-totally-asleep” voice.

“Explain to me why you’re near the Gotham docks at 1 a.m., Miss,” Selina’s sharp, sassy voice cuts through the line.

You cringe, instantly feeling like the little girl who once got caught stealing candy from the corner bodega. Even though you’re 23 now, she still has that effect on you.

“What are you talking about? I’m in bed right now,” you lie weakly.

“WE share locations, remember?” she snaps.

Caught red-handed.

“I have a logical reason,” you admit. “A cat was cold and alone, and she looked so skinny. I had to help her.”

You know you’ve got her there—she is Catwoman, after all.

“Listen, I know you want to help, love,” she says, her tone softening. “But it’s freezing, and you’re in a dangerous area. Do you even know where you are?”

Her concern makes you uneasy. Selina doesn’t usually sound this worried unless something is serious. Taking the hint, you decide to head home.

“You’re right. I’m going ba—”

A loud bang echoes from one of the nearby shipping containers, cutting you off.

“Hello? Y/N? Are you okay? What was that? You need to get out of there!” Selina’s voice rises in urgency.

Before you can respond, you feel a sharp object press against your back. Of course, this has to happen now, when you were just trying to do a good deed.

“Hang up the phone, doll,” a gruff, menacing voice orders.

Doing what anyone in your position would, you elbow the man in the stomach. Your phone clatters to the ground as Selina’s voice fades beneath the sound of the struggle.

“Bitch,” the man snarls venomously.

He lunges at you, slamming you against a shipping container. The impact makes your head spin, but you swing your fist, landing a punch to his face. As he stumbles, you seize the chance to run—until he yanks you back by your hair.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, doll,” he growls, his voice dripping with malice.

Just as you muster the strength to keep fighting, a heavy thud echoes behind him. A dark figure looms.

“Now, you should know who guards this place by now,” a familiar voice growls.

You freeze, torn between relief and fear. As crazy as it sounds you now don’t know who to be more scared of, the guy or the person you know very well who’s voice that belongs to. And you knew you were in for a long night.

Jason grabs the man by the neck and slams him to the ground with brutal force.

“Scum like you shouldn’t even be alive,” Jason snarls, his fists pounding into the man.

“Red, that’s enough!” you plead. “Come on, he’s not responding.”

When he doesn’t stop, you reach out, resting your hand on his shoulder. He finally halts.

Without a word, Jason walks away, which you took as a cue you should follow. So you walk for like 3 minutes without a word being said. And you had enough of the silence, you have already been walking the whole night.

“Jay, I’m sorry, okay? I saw a little cat, and it was cold and—”

“Injured, yeah, I know. Selina called me. If she hadn’t, who knows what could’ve happened, do you even know you’re in The Hills Y/N?” he snaps, cutting you off.

You glance around, realization dawning. The fog, the docks, the 30 minutes of chasing the cat—you’re in The Hills, one of the most dangerous areas in Gotham. No wonder Selina was worried and why Jason is mad at you right now. Ever since you and Jason started dating, he’s warned you about the areas in Gotham that are red zones for crime—places he didn’t want you near, especially with a war between crime lords raging on. Things weren’t exactly stable, and all he wanted was to keep you safe. He’d always said that losing you would be unbearable—not just because it’s his job to protect, but because he can’t imagine a life without you. Those are words he can’t bring himself to say right now, though; there’s already too much hanging in the air.

“I’m sorry, Jay. I wasn’t thinking I truly didn’t know I was in The Hills ,” you say, guilt weighing on you. You were tired and now just wanted to go home to your shared bed.

Jason sighs, his anger softening as he sensed the feeling of you being overwhelmed with the events of tonight. He wraps his arms around you, and you melt into his embrace and let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Let’s just go home. I just want you safe.”

You look around to scope the scenery and make sure no one is around. You make eye contact with Jason and he already knows what you are asking for as he simply does a small nod in response. Your hands find their way to his mask where you take it off and now see his face with the Domino mask only hiding off the top. And you lean in to give him a quick little kiss. As you pull back from the peck he leans in again wanting more. And who are you to reject this beautiful man?

“Meow.”

You pull away, startled.

“Oh my God, Micho! I knew you’d come back!” you exclaim, scooping up the fluffy black cat.

Jason smirks. “So, you weren’t delusional after all.”

Despite the events of the night , you head home with the love of your life and a new addition to your humble family. As you hop into the back of Jason’s bike with your cat in your bag you realize something.

“Coño, I forgot my phone, Jay.”

☪︎･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂☪︎･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂☪︎･ﾟ･ﾟ·:

A/N: Hi cuties! As always, if you have any requests, let me know—I’ll gladly write them. Hope you enjoyed!

[batslair]

Serenity of the Rain

Jason Todd x GN

Hiii guys, two things: 1st, this is my first time writing a story, and 2nd, I’m open to any suggestions or even if you guys want more :)

AN: Reader is a student at the University of Gotham who is trying to become a nurse and has known Jason since her childhood.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　

Pit pat, pit pat. The sound of rain in Gotham is something that you have grown very much accustomed to hearing for as long as you can remember. That still doesn’t mean you aren’t annoyed with it, especially when you have an upcoming test in three days that you’re studying for.

A grunt leaves your lips as you find yourself distracted by every little sound your ears start picking up on: the sirens, the raindrops, the thunder—and your window being lifted up.

Your window being lifted up??

You drop your pen and slowly take the spiked bat Jason gave you as a joke (not really) as a late birthday gift and tiptoe your way to the living room. You see a tall figure entering your living room, and your arm winds up with all the strength you have to swing.

“Drop it. You should know by now it’s me,” Jason says with a hint of amusement.

“Yeah, well, in a city where people go around in makeup or masks with leotards either committing crimes or stopping them, you don’t want to take the gamble, do you?” you snap back, a bit annoyed. It’s not like you don’t want him here. To be honest, as much as you’d hate to say it out loud, having him around always gives you a sense of security and peace of mind. “What are you doing here anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be in space or something?”

“That was last week,” Jason says with an eyebrow raised. “C’mon, gorgeous. Don’t act like you aren’t happy to see me,” he adds with a smirk.

The minute you’re about to retaliate, you notice something: his hand is holding onto his left side, his stance isn’t as straight, and the little wave of arrogance is replaced with a small, sharp inhale.

“Hey, what’s going on?” You rush to his side without hesitation, and all the annoyance you had leaves your mind, replaced by a blanket of concern.

“During a drug bust on Penguin’s goons, I got a tiny injury—nothing serious,” Jason replies as he slowly removes his hand from the delicate spot.

The minute his hand stops shielding the spot, you’re torn between yelling at him and punching him in the exact same place.

“Jason, a tiny injury is not a bullet wound!” you yell at him. “What’s going to happen if one day I’m not here and I can’t treat you? Who would you go to then? What would you do?” You feel bad, but you can’t help expressing your genuine concern and a bit of anger toward him. You and Jason have known each other since you were kids in Crime Alley. You’ve lost him before and can’t bear the thought of losing him again—or even not being there for him one day. The thought isn’t far-fetched; you live in Gotham, and you’re already proud you’ve made it this far without a freak-show incident happening to you.

And it’s like he can read your mind. His gloved hand reaches out to you. “Hey, look at me,” he says, holding your chin to make you look up at him. “Don’t you ever say that. I would never let anyone even touch a single hair on you, Y/N.” Jason’s voice, now serious and stern, somehow makes you even angrier.

You bite your tongue and guide him to the bathroom where you keep your first aid kit.

And you feel like you’re back to square one trying to concentrate on your work, this time on the needle you’re using to stitch up his wound. Your hands are shaky, and the room holds the noise of your uneven breath as you try to find a normal pattern. All you can think about is what if. What if you can’t be there for him one day? What if you lose him again? What if you never get the chance to say how you felt the minute his green eyes met yours in Crime Alley? It sometimes feels like you’re racing against time, but you’re losing. And, come on, you don’t even have any real combat knowledge—just some experience from street fights as a kid.

“Ouch.”

Your hand halts as you make eye contact with Jason.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Jay.” Great, you’ve caused the guy even more collateral damage.

“I’m joking. Just wanted to calm that little mind of yours. What’s going on in there, huh?” Jason’s eyes are filled with concern.

How do you even respond to that? Oh, nothing. You know, just thinking about how I might lose my best friend again without telling him I’m deeply in love with him. Totally normal. Yeah, no. Instead, you go with your go-to answer in these scenarios:

“Nothing’s going on. I’m just tired, Jay,” you say in the most neutral tone you can muster.

“Now you know, Y/N, I can tell when you’re lying,” Jason replies, his voice soft and delicate.

As you start putting your equipment away, you can’t help the annoying feeling of your chest becoming heavier and your eyes stinging as you fight tears. And it’s like he senses the shift in your emotions. Two strong arms wrap around you.

Silence takes over the room as your tears seep into Jason’s t-shirt. Not that you cry often, but when you do, you’ve always preferred silent comfort over being bombarded with questions. Jason knows that by now, and that’s what he gives you—a comforting silence, his actions showing you that he’s there.

You and Jason stand there for about five minutes. The tears start to dry, and your breathing returns to normal. You feel his rough thumb wipe your eyes.

“I’m not going to rush you to tell me what’s wrong, Y/N. I just want to know if I’m making it worse by being here right now,” Jason says.

“Don’t even think about leaving, Todd,” you reply, trying to lighten the mood by using his last name. Key word: try, but Jason knows you too well. He catches the hint of sadness in your voice.

A yawn escapes your mouth, the exhaustion of studying, overthinking, and crying draining you completely.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Jason says, scooping you up so suddenly you don’t have time to argue.

As your shoulders slump and he carries you to your room, your eyes grow heavy. You feel his arms dip, replaced by the softness of your comforter.

Just as Jason starts to leave, your hand shoots up, grabbing his.

“Stay,” you murmur before you can process what you’re asking for.

There’s a pause, then the bed dips as Jason lies down beside you. You don’t know if you imagine it, but you could swear you hear him say, “Always.”

The rhythm of his heartbeat mixes with the rain outside—a sound that, earlier, annoyed you but now brings a peace you haven’t felt in a long time. As sleep claims you, the fleeting thought crosses your mind: maybe he already knows how you feel.

[batslair]

[batslair]

Honoring the lives lost in the Atlanta shooting

Xiaojie 'Emily' Tan, 49

Tan, 49, was the mother of Jami Webb, a recent graduate from the University of Georgia. She was a licensed massage therapist and the owner of Young’s Asian Massage, along with other businesses in the area, including another spa and a tanning salon, according to state records. She was “the sweetest, most kind-hearted, giving, never-met-a-stranger person,” a friend told Atlanta’s WSB-TV. Just one day away from her 50th birthday when she was killed, according to USA Today, Tan was described by her daughter as thoughtful, devoted to her family, and looking forward to traveling in her retirement.

Hyun Jung Grant, 51

Hyun Jung Grant was a Korean immigrant who worked at Atlanta’s Gold Spa. Her son Randy Park, 23, shared a tribute to his mother on GoFundMe: He said his mother was a single parent who “dedicated her whole life to providing for my brother and I.” She loved dancing and sushi, according to Park, who told The Daily Beast, “She wasn’t just my mother. She was my friend.” Park, who now has to raise his brother alone, is not buying law-enforcement officials’ suggestion that the attack was motivated by a supposed sex addiction, not racism. “That’s bullshit,” he said.

Delaina Ashley Yaun Gonzalez, 33

Yaun Gonzalez, 33, was a mother of two — 13-year-old Mayson and 8-month-old Mia. She had worked all day on Tuesday at the Waffle House a few shops down from Tan’s spa business. She had been looking forward to having a relaxing night out with her husband, Mario Gonzalez, whom she married only last year, and the couple had reportedly never been to Young’s Asian Massage before. According to Fox 5 Atlanta, family members say that Mario Gonzalez, who survived the shooting, is “taking [the situation] hard.” Delaina Ashley Yaun Gonzalez’s friends and family have set up a GoFundMe to address her funeral costs.

Paul Andre Michels, 54

Michels, 54, was a handyman at Young’s Asian Massage and the owner of an electric company. He was only recently hired for the role and excited to take it on after looking for more work during the pandemic, according to a friend who spoke with CBS46. An army veteran originally from Detroit, Michels is one of nine siblings and is survived by his wife of more than two decades. In an interview with the Guardian, his brother John Michels emphasized his kindness. “He was just a regular guy, very good-hearted, very soft-natured,” he said, while noting that Michels had expressed an interest in getting involved in the massage business.

Yong Ae Yue, 63

A licensed massage therapist, she was laid off at the start of the pandemic last year and was excited to finally start shifts at the spa again, her son Elliott Peterson, 42, told The Atlanta Journal-Constitution on Friday morning. Yue’s youngest child, Robert Peterson, 38, agreed, recalling their mother as a kind and deeply caring woman. If you stopped by her house, she’d sit you down, ask if you’d eaten, and then insist on a trip to H Mart grocery store so she could make a meal.

Daoyou Feng, 44

Daoyou Feng, 44, began working at Young’s Asian Massage in recent months, according to Tan’s friend Hynson. She was kind and quiet, he said. Her relatives could not be reached for comment.

Soon Chung Park, 74

Soon Chung Park, 74, was also a worker at an Atlanta spa. Her family didn’t respond when reached for comment. Park previously lived in New York, where she has relatives, her son-in-law, Scott Lee, told the New York Times. “She got along with her family so well,” Lee told the newspaper.

Suncha Kim, 69

Suncha Kim, 69, worked at one of the spas in Atlanta. Her family could not be reached for comment. Kim, a grandmother, was married for more than 50 years, a family member told the Times. She enjoyed line dancing and worked hard, the relative said.

Elcias Hernandez-Ortiz, 30

Hernandez-Ortiz, 30, was the only survivor of the victims who were shot on Tuesday, and he remains hospitalized for multiple gunshot wounds in his “forehead, throat, lungs and stomach,” according to the Washington Post. He was shot while standing outside in the shopping center where Young’s Asian Massage is located. “He came from nothing and has come a long way; that is why I have faith he will survive this,” his wife Flor Gonzalez told the Washington Post. Gonzalez has also set up a GoFundMe to help with the costs of Hernandez-Ortiz’s medical care.

[batslair]

[batslair]

reblog and make a wish! this was removed from tumbrl due to “violating one or more of Tumblr’s Community Guidelines”, but since my wish came true the first time, I’m putting it back. :)

[batslair]

when people ask where you see yourself in 10 years

[batslair]

I am honestly so proud to say that I love him ❤️

[batslair]

Imagine you had just broken up with your ex because he cheated on you and your best friend Jimin come to comfort you .....

Jimin looked down down at your sleeping figure on him.

“I could treat you so much better then he ever did y/n.” Jimin whispered thinking that you were asleep and couldn’t hear how fast his heart was beating. But little did he know you were awake and your heartbeat was beating just as fast as his.