#but i’m still gonna call them headcanons bc y’know its messy

[shattersstar]

here r my jason headcanons abt his scars and general feelings about his appearance + how the reader deals with it

disclaimer: wrote these in my notes within half and hour and i’m tipsy but i hope u enjoy these thots

jason wasn’t overly aware of his appearance growing up, until he moved in with bruce. he was aware he was a bit rough around the edges, growing up as he did was direct influence of that, but it wasnt until he had to interact with high society he was made aware of how looks mattered. he didn’t get the same treatment as dick, maybe the novelty of bruce’s wards had worn off come the second robin, or maybe they all recognized a poorness in him that left his toothy grin a little smaller. he tried not to care but those things bite at the back of your mind and leave residual scars to trace in years to come.

and years later, he had come to hate his body. it was something mangled, mashed and stitched back together, barely holding itself together in the first few years after the pit. his autopsy scars stayed too, every injury from being robin, from his life on the streets healed into a nothing but those fucking scars stayed. they were a harsh reminder of how his life panned out and would follow him around till he died—again.

the distaste from the socialites he had nearly forgotten about seemed to burn through his veins each time he passed a mirror. as he grew and accumulated more wounds, ones that healed and others that didn’t, the more he stopped looking at himself. he wanted to feel the vanity others had thrusted upon him, wanted to relish in the sly glances he got as he aged into his (forever handsome) features, but all he felt was lies. They wouldn’t be as bold with their eyes if they knew about him, about what hid under the layers of clothes, what phantoms hung on his shoulders and the blood he washed away, that never truly left. He couldn’t find a rugged appreciation in the crooked bend of his nose of the scar that clung to his cheekbone, another slicing through his left brow bone.

he felt like he had grown into what he was always seen as, some rough kid from the streets of gotham. he didn’t hate looking mean, it had its advantages. he liked the surprised reactions he got from his apartment neighbours who assumed he was just some criminal kid trying to make his stake in the crime ridden city. but then he’d help them carry groceries, let them drop off their pets at his place when they went out of town for the weekend, helped esl kids with english homework when he had free time. part of him wished he didnt have to win over people to get him to accept and trust him but he understood nonetheless

that was until you showed up. you moved in across the hall and asked him the day you met to help you move the couch the movers put in the wrong spot. “if you’re busy its all good.” you added at the end with a shrug, likely due to his own stunned silence at your request. he agreed, pulling his key from the lock and spent the evening setting up your living room. you paid him in a beer your friend had given as a house warming gift and asked him about the floor. you were a bit nosy, a little gossipy but something about it felt sincere. just a genuine curiosity about the inner workings of the place he called home. actually—everything about you just felt sincere.

you were kind to him, treated him like a neighbour and not a cautionary tale and jesus that scared the shit outta him. you popped up in his life a few times after your first meeting, inviting him over when you made way too much food or asking him for a good grocery store nearby. it wasn’t until you knocked on his door, asking if he wanted to hang out—no conditions, no help or anything needed. “do you like movies?” you asked, swaying on the balls of your feet as jason stood in his doorway, it barely cracked open out of habit.

“as long as its not based on a book.” he replied, ignoring how dry his throat was.

“you’re a ‘book is better then an adaptation’ kinda guy huh?”

“because its true.”

“unless the book already sucks.” that made him chuckle.

“but yeah i like movies.”

“cool the things is—“

“u dont have a tv.”

“exactly, we can squish onto my bed or watch it at your place if you’re cool with that. can’t lie i am curious to see how you live.” you admitted, jokingly pushing yourself onto your tippy toes and pretending to peer over his shoulder.

“my place then.”

“tomorrow night?”

“tomorrow.”

it quickly became a weekly tradition, you’d bring popcorn and something you stressed baked and alternate between picking films. most were spent in his living room, but after a while you managed to get him back into your place. you did exactly what you said and squished into your bed, laptop balancing on your lap desk. jason was in his usual long sleeve and sweats. you were in a tshirt and pj shorts. it was summer and he knew you were going to ask. “you wanna go back to your place in change? its kinda warm and as much as i like you, i dunno how i’d feel about you overheating on me.”

despite your attempt at humor he muttered a quick, “i’m fine.”

you shrugged it off and jason should’ve known better. should’ve known you weren’t going to drop it, that wasnt how you worked. you were nosy and talkative and curious and pushy and caring and you hated the idea of a wall between you two. so when you slipped into his lap one day, some early 2000s romcom droning on behind you, he knew exactly what you were up too.

your knees dug into the side of his couch and your hands landed on his shoulders. “were friends right?” you asked, and something about how your nose bumped his felt anything but platonic.

“yeah.” he breathed, hyper aware of your thumb brushing against the collar of his shirt. one of his scars peaked through, and a jagged knife wound that left him half dead on a rooftop two years ago.

your thumb brushed it and his fingers clasped to your forearms in warning.

“this is why you’re always in sweaters right? what you’re trying to hide.” your eyes were fixed on it, still rubbing small circles against the skin around it. he didn’t say anything, you had were more observant than he gave you credit. “friends dont keep secrets jay.” you all but pouted at him, forehead resting against his.

“they’re...bad.” was all he could stress, eyes downcast to where your thighs met his.

“they’re apart of you which means they cant be bad. not to me.”

and it was like the hesitation in which people would approach him, the disgusted whispers about the newest wayne ward, the eyes that were fearful to meet his all vanished. all the left over pain and hate for his tired and broken body was put somewhere he couldnt reach even if just for this moment.

he still had a hard time looking in the mirror, wished his battered knuckles didn’t stand out so much when your fingers locked with his, wanted to kiss you without feeling the small scar from his  near constantly split lip, wanted to be able to wear the more revealing clothes you thought he’d look good in, and more. there were still things to want and wish and hate and push away. but there was also your voice now living in his mind whispering the words he hadn’t known he needed to hear since he was a kid.

[captainluvbot]

BBC Ghost baking headcanons

I decided to bake cupcakes after, once again, binge watching ghost and now I’m bored while waiting for them to come out of the oven so here’s some headcanons that I Cannot Get Out Of My Head :)

The captain would 100% stress how important exact measurements are. When alison says its okay to be a few grams over he’d get frustrated and would do the absolute most to not let alison move on until it is exact.

Pat would enjoy it ("we should make this into a new club.. If that's alright with you, Alison.") but would later get upset bc these are the things he missed out on with his scouts and his son.

Y’know how little kids stare at the oven and are extremely impatient when baking? Yeah that’s Robin... even after all this time he forgets he can’t actually eat them bc he’s so preoccupied with watching the cakes rise. He fazes his head through the oven just to see everything up close (which freaks alison out, shes still not used to all the ghost things).

Realistically Humphrey would probably be on the floor somewhere in the other side of the house but bc this is my headcanon and I get sad when he misses out I’m gonna say that both his head and his body are present.

Cap assigns roles for everyone (bc he understands the importance of strategy and teamwork when it comes to baking and not at all bc Kitty got upset that she couldn’t really help alison. These are not superficial roles to make kitty happy, they are not).

So thanks to cap’s assignment of roles, Humphrey’s head is methodically placed on the counter right next to the instructions so he can read them out for alison, and his body is next to cap, doing the same role it had in the bump in the night ep, his fingers counting the amount of eggs and whatnot with cap.

Kitty’s role is to be alisons right hand women… which… does not consist of much other than her being extremely close to alison. But it makes her happy (and alison slightly stressed) so its worth it.

Mary’s role is probably the only one (other than Humphrey’s head’s) that is actually useful. She uses intuitive knowledge to give suggestions and help alison when she gets lost (its hard to focus with this many ghosts shouting at her and mary keeps her grounded).

Mary also tells alison when the cakes are done (with the help of a timer).

As I said before, cap (like me but no I’m not projecting) gets so agitated when things aren’t exact. So.. when kitty wants to add too much sugar (“really kitty, that is far too much! Alison do not listen to her, Humphrey said half of that”) or when pat suggests they add marshmallows (he saw a picture of those smore cupcakes while alison was on her phone once and would give anything to go back in time and bake them with his scouts (sidenote: apparantly you dont actually use marshmallows for these? wild)), he reprimands them and tells them off for trying to change the “instructions”.

Julian doesn’t really join in (besides trying to get alison to add alcohol) because baking is messy and not the kind of messy he likes (“if you know what I mean hehe”), but he does butt in with the odd anecdote every now and then.

Kitty, as per usual, is just happy to join in now that she has the role of second in command. But when alison takes out cupcakes cases with hearts on them, pink food colouring, and heart shaped sprinkles she looks happier than she ever has (especially when alison tells her that she bought them bc they reminded her of kitty).

Thomas, dramatic as usual, sees the heart shaped confectionary and laments about love and how beautiful it is that people can express their love so symbolically nowadays (making fanny and cap look at each other and roll their eyes).

Mike comes into the kitchen after the cakes go into the oven and alison walks out (she says she needs to go the toilet but really she just needs a minute by herself bc she can feel a headache coming on). He doesn’t realise the cakes have literally just gone in but he smells burning (cut to mary hunched over bc he had just walked through her) and he tries to take the cakes out while calling for ally. Cap is not pleased.

Lady button doesn't actively take part, a per usual shes standing in the background watching, but alison sees her smiling in her peripheral vision. She doesn't say anything but this was (an adapted (but don’t tell cap)) family recipe she found so she knows fanny is content.. proud even..

That is... until they burn ("a lady should know how to follow a simple recipe") - the captain is also annoyed by the burning of the cakes ("this is why it is imperative to follow the instructions exactly, alison.")

Alison tells the ghosts that they've thrown her off and that's why the cakes are a little burnt but in reality these are the best cakes she's ever made, and the most fun she's ever had while baking (even if she does have a headache now).