In my opinion, Bruce should be above average height or at least average. But since he surrounds himself with demi-gods, aliens, meta humans, etc, he's just dwarfed next to them. Like maybe about 6'1 or 6'2, but that's NOTHING compared to Diana '7'3 feet tall' Prince. Or Clark '6'9' Kent.
All the tabloids claim he has to be at least 5 feet tall because the only photos they can get of him are when he's next to his giant ass friends.
It is also my personal headcannon that all the robins stay shorter than him, except Jason, who should be at least 4 inches taller.
6K notes
·
View notes
Waking up with Jason's arms wrapped around you, feeling him breathe into your hair, letting out the occasional snore. His hand is under you, pressed into your side, and you feel him squeeze the flesh of your waist to make sure you're still there, a habit he developed when things started getting serious, constantly searching for you, even in his sleep. He squeezes a little tighter, his breath suddenly quickening at an alarming rate. You try to turn to face him, fear settling in your stomach, wondering if something was plaguing him in his dreams again.
When you shift ever so slightly, you feel the other arm lying over you tighten, pulling you flush against his body. A chill runs down your spine as you feel him exhale a particularly strangled breath, and you force yourself out of his grip, sitting up to get a better look at the man next to you. His eyebrows furrowed, hair flat on one side of his head from laying in one position the entire night. One of his hands reaches out to your pillow, searching for you in your sudden absence, and when it's met with nothing, Jason jolts upright. He turns his head frantically, blurred vision searching for something, for someone, for you.
His shoulders drop in relief when he finally stops long enough to notice you barely a foot away from him. You watch his chest rise and fall as he tries to calm his breathing, and you're not sure which thing caused it, the nightmare or the fear that you had left him. "What are you doing up?" he asks, voice laced with sleep. "You were having a nightmare," you say quietly, sliding a little closer to him and settling back into your spot on the bed. "I was just trying to make sure you were okay." confusion is etched across his face like the concept of him having a nightmare was foreign, and you develop an equally confused expression upon seeing his own. His face drops suddenly, and he clears his throat, "Right, a nightmare." he shifts beneath the covers, seemingly uncomfortable. "I'm all good. Just go back to sleep, okay?" he sends a reassuring smile your way, his attempt at trying to make you forget this whole debacle and coax you back to sleep, but it was too late; you were already wide awake.
"Was it him again?" your hand finds the scarred expanse of his back, lightly grazing your fingers against old wounds and trying to ease his angst; his body tenses at your touch, and a groan leaves his lips. "it wasn't-" he pauses, running his hands through his hair and sighing. "it wasn't him again. It wasn't even..." he trails off, turning away from you and sliding off the bed. "wasn't even what?" You ask, more confused than ever, watching as he lifts his arms above his head, back muscles flexing while he stretches before crossing his arms. He just stands there, back towards you, and all you can do is sit in silence while he seemingly contemplates something. "It wasn't what, Jason?" you ask one more time. He turns his head slightly to look at you only for a second and lowers his eyes when he sees you in the same spot you've been this whole time. "It wasn't a nightmare," he says, turning around to face you, this time allowing you to see his whole body.
His face is flushed a bit out of embarrassment, and your confusion starts to reach its peak. That is until you do a once-over of him and notice the patch of dark gray on his otherwise light sweatpants. Your mouth gapes a bit, and all you can manage is a quiet "Oh." his eyes find the same spot on his pants, a tent growing beneath the soft cotton. "Yeah. Oh."
5K notes
·
View notes
Hellooooooo I love your art so much, healing my soul from the stuff dc puts us through. 💛
I saw the art w Jason & Diana (beloved) and was wondering if perhaps sometime if you’re cool w it, if you could please do Robin Jason meeting Wonder Woman? :D
how could i say no to another jaybin req
3K notes
·
View notes
Secret Robin au
Part 17 follow up. I can't imagine the pain Bruce must be in upon learning it was his kids all along who he let throw themselves into danger. And only finding out when the absolute worst almost came to pass
Prev / Next / Commission info / ko-fi
2K notes
·
View notes
Jason Todd can kill a man with his bare hands, but with you, they're as delicate as possible, like you're a porcelain doll, able to crack at the slightest touch.
His fingers hover over your skin, a light as a feather you would think you were imagining things. He's cautious, carful, thoughtful.
Everything else in his life has broke. Even him. But not you, never you. You can't. You're untouched. Perfect, never to do wrong. He worshipped you like a goddess, like you created heaven and earth.
And you did.
You created his earth. His world. You were his heaven. When he died, he swore he saw you. You were his everything, his reason, his purpose, his love, his hope.
He was so in love it hurt. Every look shared between you, his mind swirled with possibilities. He couldn't live if something happened to you because of him. He couldn't live without his world.
It was an odd place to be stuck in. Scared of staying, scared of leaving. He kept his distance. Touches were never long. Lips ghost against yours. It's like he's never fully there. Every night, the cold side that was suppose to be his haunted you.
It's hard to love a ghost. It's like being in love with a figment of your imagination. You find yourself questioning if he's even real. Every time he comes home, he proves to you that he is.
That brought upon its own set of questions, heart crying out for more of what it was deprived. Were you not enough reason to stay? Were you not enough? Was he yours like you were his?
You felt like the moon, forever revolving around the Earth, compelled to, even. Always at a safe distance, longing for more. That is, until one night.
He comes home, smashing his helmet to the wall. The landlord won't like that, but a problem for another day. Without thinking he crashes into your arms, head buried into your chest.
The Earth crashed into the moon. Hell will follow, you both knew that. But it didn't matter. You had him. He had you. that was enough.
2K notes
·
View notes