despairgnome

[despairgnome]

can confirm! it works! work at a grocery store!

If i worked in a grocery store id just be walking up to people like Hey man welcome to blueberries i hope you have a great time Id be wandering around welcoming people to tomato and green onion and theyd fire my ass because i also killed someone because i went crazy

[despairgnome]

hey can u do me a favor and just bash my fucking head in as hard as possible with that big rock over there until my body goes limp

[despairgnome]

I do not "tweet", I do not "snap", I do not "make a tiktok", I BLOG ON TUMBLR DOT COM, and if I have no wifi, I USE MY NOTES APP

[despairgnome]

i did this quickly cus it is funny hehe

[despairgnome]

picking up my favorite characters like this and carrying them around with me

[despairgnome]

its impregnate that man monday ladies and gentlemen.

[despairgnome]

this is my son

Poorly drawn Joltik line

[despairgnome]

Girl did you just quicksave

[despairgnome]

window pains | jason todd

Summary: He's got a habit of coming in through the window. You want him to start staying... and using the door. 

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings/tags: injured Jason Todd (he's okay dw), angst, pining, mentions of Jason's death.

A/N: sooo.... i guess i'm a dc girlie now. just a reminder that every character i write will always be 18+!!! this is probably canon divergent but we make our own canon.

If you like this fic and want to see more, please let me know through reblogs ♡

the divider

"Can't you enter my apartment like a normal person?"

"You know who you're talking to, right?"

"You're getting blood on my carpet, Todd."

It doesn't really matter. He'll come back and scrub it out as soon as his ribs are whole. And fuck if he's not good at getting blood out of surfaces. Jason Todd ought to start a housekeeping column. 

You catch his limp as he climbs over the windowsill. It almost topples him, but he gets to the couch before it does. He doesn't make a sound. 

That had freaked you out the first few times he'd stumbled through your window. Once, he came with part of a windshield wiper impaled in his shoulder. He'd lain on your couch so still and so quiet, you'd thought Red Hood had croaked in your apartment. Which would not have been a good look for you. Or maybe it would. Depends on who you ask. 

Sometimes you want to tell him to make sounds. To hiss and grunt and complain. To grab your wrist so you'll slow down as you pull thread through flesh. 

But it's not your place to request such a thing. You don't know where you reside in Jason Todd's life, but it's not somewhere where you can request to hear him hurt. 

Outwardly, his injuries aren't bad-looking. He takes off his helmet and tosses it somewhere under the coffee table. You offer a hand to help him lie down on the couch—he doesn't take it. 

"Jesus Christ, Jay." You suck in a sharp breath and peel back his bloody suit. "What'd you do?"

"Took a midnight stroll in the Botanical Gardens. Why, what'd you do?"

You frown, eyebrows pinching in the center of your forehead. Jason's stomach is mottled with purple and red bruises. There's a sticky gash right above his hip. A knife. Or a sword, maybe. Apparently, swords are commonplace in Gotham. 

"How'd they get you?" you ask. 

It's a rule-break. Jason's number one policy: don't ask questions.

You always do. Even when it was new, this… thing between you two, you'd ask. Who were they? Why did they hurt you? Did you hurt them back?

The last one, you always know the answer to. 

"There were, like, ten of them," he says. "Cut me some slack, will ya?" 

He has a cut across his lips. A ringed finger that caught on his skin, you guess. You wonder if he'd wince if you kissed him. If he'd wince at the pain or the kiss itself. If you'd know the difference. 

Rage suddenly cuts through you. It makes your hands careless, cruel; you pull the bandage around his waist too tight. Jason coils up slightly. 

"Jesus—ever heard of bedside manner?" he asks, looking at you through his lashes. 

"Ever heard of not breaking into someone's apartment and making them patch you up?"

"I don't make you," Jason says easily. "You wouldn't do it if you didn't want to."

That only increases your rage. Because he's right. You wouldn't be here if you didn't want to be. You'd have kicked him out four first aid kits ago if you minded. 

You yank down his shirt and pack up the kit. Jason shifts on the couch. A sliver of skin above his waistband is still exposed. You have to turn your head to force your gaze away. 

"No bandaids?" he asks. "All my cuts'll be exposed to the elements."

"You can put them on yourself." 

His cheek could use one. And his eyebrow. You're not in the mood. 

Jason doesn't say anything in response to that. You get up to put the kit back under the sink. 

"Can I crash here?" 

"Do what you want," you say, suddenly exhausted. Like it's you who just went six rounds with Gotham's scumbags.

You peek over the kitchen counter when you hear rustling and the couch springs squeak. Jason leans heavily on the arm of the couch, reaching for the window. You walk over and stand in front of him. 

"What're you doing?" you ask. 

"You want me to go," he says flatly. "So I'm going."

"I didn't say that, I said—"

"I can read between the lines." 

"If you could read between the lines as well as you think you can, we wouldn't be in this situation," you say. 

"What situation?"

You turn your head. "Nothing."

Jason steps towards the window. You block him again. 

"What is the matter with you?" you ask. "You're injured. Lie down."

"I'm not your responsibility," he says, glaring. "I'm leaving."

"No, you're not. And since you're allergic to using the door, you don't have a choice."

Jason's eyebrow rises. "Are you saying you'd physically prevent me from leaving?"

You lift your chin. "If that's what it takes."

"Hm. Can't tell if your confidence is stupid or brave."

"Lie the fuck down, Todd."

His lip curls. "I don't stay where I'm not welcome."

Sometimes you forget how young he is. Not that you're not also young, but, well… you don't feel your youth as acutely as other people your age might. It's something you two have in common. 

Here, in the gritty glow of Gotham, you are reminded that Jason Todd died once. Before he finished school. Before he fell in love. 

Your stomach churns every time you see that Y-shaped scar on his torso, strapped over him like a chain. 

"I didn't say that you're not welcome," you say. 

"Yeah, well, you didn't have to."

He sags against the couch and it occurs to you that he's as exhausted as you feel. 

"Can you just—" You touch his bicep. He winces even though there's no injury there. "Can you just lie down?" 

You stare at each other for another minute. Slowly, Jason lays down. His eyes are alert instead of heavy with sleep. Instantly, you feel guilty for making him think he has to be cautious around you. His hand curls protectively over his stomach. 

"Do you want a blanket?" you ask. 

He squints. "It's August."

"I know, I… I thought maybe the blood loss made you cold." 

"'M fine. Perks of being risen from the dead." 

You watch him get settled for a minute. He shifts his weight to his uninjured side and meets your gaze. His eyes are gray in the weak light. 

"You're tired of me," he says. 

Your head snaps up. "No, I'm not."  

"You are."

"I'm not tired of you, Jay."

You see it. The fear. He thinks this is the last time you'll let him in. He doesn't know you can't lock him out. You won't. 

You get up and go to get the kit from the sink again. Jason follows your movement the whole time. His face scrunches in confusion when you sit in front of the couch and unzip the kit. 

You pull out the tiny red bandaids. You'd bought them as a joke, initially. It had made Jason laugh and that had been reason enough to keep buying them. And then he let you actually put them on.

You peel the adhesive off of one and gently stick it on his cheek. He blinks at you, thick, dark lashes kissing the corners of his eyes. 

"I'm not tired of you," you say softly. 

"I'd be tired of me." 

"You keep this city safe. How could I be tired of Gotham's defender?"

Jason scowls and turns his head into the cushion before you can put the second bandaid.  

"I'm not its defender. The others protect this city a hundred times better. Nightwing does it with a smile on his face."

"I like that you go out there even when it's hard, Jay," you say. 

He doesn't respond. You lean in, so close that you can count the freckles on his neck. 

"Can I finish putting the bandaids on?" you ask. 

"I don't need 'em."

"You do. You need another on your forehead."

"It'll heal fine without it."

Your shoulders bunch like a cat on defense. You grab his cheek (gently, always gently) and his head whips to yours in surprise. 

"Jason Todd, I am not tired of you. I'm tired of the fact that you only come by when you need fixing."

He scowls. "I never asked you to fix me. If you want me to leave, I'll leave."

"I don't want you to leave, I want you to stay!" you burst. 

Jason scoffs. "No, you don’t. I'll overstay my welcome real fast."

"Maybe I care about you on purpose!" you say, voice rising. "Maybe I didn't stumble through a window; maybe I walked through the door and bought the bandaids and learned how to stitch wounds because I wanted to."

He suddenly looks overcome by grief. The agony in his face startles you. 

"I don't know how to use the door anymore," he says quietly. "All I do is stumble through windows."

Your hand slips off of his cheek. Jason closes his eyes; they fly open when you stick the second bandaid above his eyebrow. 

"You can come in any way you want to," you say, face an inch away from his. "As long as you come back to me."

His gaze darts to your mouth. You don't kiss him hard. He breaks anyway.

You avoid the right side of his mouth entirely, not wanting to pull at his cut. Jason shudders into your mouth. You cup his pulse through his neck and it quickens.

His eyes are wet when you pull away. His chest heaves like he's been swinging through the city. 

"I wanna try to use the door," he says. 

You touch the bandaid on his cheek, humming. 

"Then I'll leave it unlocked." 

[despairgnome]

[despairgnome]

Every 21st century piece of writing advice: Make us CARE about the character from page 1! Make us empathize with them! Make them interesting and different but still relatable and likable!

Every piece of classic literature: Hi. It's me. The bland everyman whose only purpose is to tell you this story. I have no actual personality. Here's the story of the time I encountered the worst people I ever met in my life. But first, ten pages of description about the place in which I met them.

[despairgnome]

You have fundamentally misunderstood Bruce's character, If you do not 100% know what Bruce would say in any of these instances.

Any iteration of....

"B can we skip patrol cause I....."

"Dad can we...."

"Bruce I was thinking instead of...."

"Baba I want to....."

Bruce Wayne is throwing off his bat-suit running to the car, fishing his wallet out because his children don't want to fight crime today. This is the best day of his fucking life.

The thing I feel like is forgotten Bruce does not want any of these children to be vigilantes.

This fact is very much forgotten.

If all of them decided tomorrow to never get a fucking job, never go to college live completely off Bruce's money, but also never be a vigilante again. Bruce Wayne is throwing a parade that has not been seen since Alexander The Great lost his boyfriend.

Bruce would have a house filled with like 30 year old children who eat his food and refuse to never work a day in their lives and he would absolutely love it because they are not risking themselves.

He would skip patrol no questions asked.

In fanfictions I always see a moment of them like trying to convince Bruce to take a night off or they need a break or whatever.

Bruce, who is not absolutely butchered by a writer is actively burning down the Batcave because dick said he's just not feeling this vigilante thing anymore.

Bruce Wayne will never skip patrol or being Batman by his own decision or for his own benefit.

Throw one of his kids in it and he is just Bruce Wayne. 

[despairgnome]

baller

there will always be an angry man in your house you will find him even when he is not there

[despairgnome]

dump his ass. move to a walkable city. start hormones. get into fiber crafts. dye your hair weird. grow an herb garden. foster a distrustful cat. take a welding class. invite your friends over for tea and cake. get way too into obscure media. explore a new cuisine. lie to the police. protest in the streets. life has so many possibilities don't it?

[despairgnome]

"the angel experiment" was such a sick name for the first book of the world's most disappointing series. are you kidding me. angels, the untouchable divine beings... you managed to EXPERIMENT on them? and then it just turns out its just The World's Worst Dad

[despairgnome]

bro last night was totally redacted! last night was fully expunged from the record. bro, do you... can you remember last night? what did we do...? what did... did we hurt someone? bro? why won't you look at me? what did I do...? whose blood is this...? bro...?

[despairgnome]

Bang the Doldrums

Rockstar! Jason Todd x Rockstar! gn! reader headcanons

"And I cast a spell over the west to make you think of me, the same way i think of you''

WC: 200+

Would write an album dedicated to you, and the album cover for it would be something that is symbolic for the both of you (that album would then become his best-selling one and would later win a grammy for it)

Keeps your old guitar picks and turns them into a necklace, wears it every time he has a gig/concert

He's your BIGGEST fan, whenever you have a gig, he will always be there to support you, whether it's being in the front row where you can spot him cheering you on, or bringing you and your bandmates food and drinks right after your gig 

Will have your name or initials on his guitar (kinda like how Frank Iero has his ‘’pansy’ guitar/Billie Joe Armstrong having his initials on his) 

Would try to keep your relationship with him a secret, but soon people eventually caught on 

Secretly has a fanpage dedicated to you, where he posts so many edits of you, and started posting ship edits of you and him when people started catching on that you two were dating

Once people found out that both of you were dating, he immediately changed his handle to “Y/n l/n’s #1 and BIGGEST fan”, you also changed your handle to Jason Todd’s #1 fan’’ 

The day he proposed to you was the fifth anniversary of the release of the album he wrote about you. 

On the day you both got married, when exchanging gifts, you both exchanged your guitars with each other. 

Likes, comments and reblogs are all greatly appreciated <3

By @deadbeatphobos not copy, translate or post my fics on any platform without permission