#there’s not much that bruce can use to ground jason because all of his likes/hobbies are things bruce wants to encourage

[undertheredhood]

pre-death jason todd after getting in trouble with bruce: what are you going to do, old man? stop me from going to school? ban me from reading? yeah, i don’t think so

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Civilian

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jason Todd is used to saving the innocent. But he’s not used to them saving him. 

Word Count: 3,100 – One Shot

“Fuck me,” Jason groaned as he stumbled across the rooftops.

How he was able to even walk right now was beyond him.

He had Slade on the ropes. Just one more punch to put him off balance and Jason would’ve shoved a knife into his jugular and be done with him. But Slade had a few more tricks up his sleeve and decided to flee instead of finish a losing battle, so he ran like a coward. 

It left Jason utterly irritated and with a huge gash in his side, amongst other various injuries. 

He could’ve called one his “friends” or someone in his “family.” But he was stubborn. He wanted to be stronger than that. He wanted to prove that he didn’t need any of them. He was better than that. He was the best. And he’d risk bleeding out to prove it to them – or really…himself.

But his body wasn’t on the same page.

And it finally had enough.

Jason stumbled to his knees on a rooftop. He groaned as his vision became hazy.

His helmet had a protective system in place so no one could take it off if he was unconscious. They’d get a nice little shock if they tried. His identity would be safe even if someone stumbled upon his injured body… or corpse.

Jason managed to roll onto his back and was met with the smoggy Gotham sky.

“Get the fuck up,” he told himself aloud.

He blinked, trying to straighten and clear his vision.

But it was useless.

The last thing Jason remember seeing was the Bat signal reflecting off of the cloudy sky. Somewhere in the city, there was more crime to fight and he’d just be another asshole who thought he could put a stop to it.

Dying didn’t scare Jason anymore. He’d done it once before, and he could do it again. What did it matter now anyway?

But Jason didn’t die.

He woke up on a couch. Well, if one could even call it that. His 6’4 frame could barely fit on the thing. His legs were hanging off the end, not able to comfortably fit on the thing.

His head felt like it was having the worse hangover of his life. When he opened his eyes, he blinked at the incoming sunlight. Then he realized he wasn’t looking through the programming of his Red Hood helmet.

Then he touched his face to realize that his backup domino mask had also been removed, leaving his identity exposed. 

His eyes widened in slight panic as he looked around.

He appeared to be a in a small apartment – normal, no threats detected.

Then Jason looked down to realize he wasn’t in his uniform. In fact, his chest was bare and he was only in his black briefs. His autopsy scars on full display.

But just half a foot away from him, his clothes were neatly folded into a pile on the edge of the coffee table. His two guns were sitting right next to them.

Whoever had brought him here clearly didn’t see him as a threat. Stupid on their part. There were about two dozen other weapons hiding in the crevices of his clothes too.

But the more concerning thing was that Jason didn’t have a single wound on his body. The giant gash to his side that had made him faint and nearly die from blood loss was nowhere to be found. After all these years, Jason was still figuring out the side effects from being dumped into the Lazarus pit. But this couldn’t be related, could it?

Suddenly there was the sound of the apartment door opening.

On instinct alone, Jason shot up, grabbed one of his guns, and found his target.

What he wasn’t expecting to find was a beautiful woman, probably only just a little bit younger than him, standing with a coffees in a carrier tray and a bag in the other hand. She had earbuds in, further disorienting her from such a welcome. Her eyes went wide and the rest of her body was completely frozen.

After a few seconds, she slowly tugged her headphones out.

“Is the gun really necessary?” She asked.

But Jason could tell from her body language that she was scared.

“Who the hell are you?”

She had enough courage to glare at his tone. “I’m the person who saved your life, asshole.”

“Yeah? And how exactly did you do that?”

She seemed to be getting less scared and more angry with every sentence Jason said.

“If you put the fucking gun down, I’ll tell you.”

Jason hesitated before finally putting it down. Then his behavior caught up to him. Here was this stranger, who was clearly innocent and had helped him…and his first thought was to point a gun at the poor thing.

“Sorry,” he finally gasped. “It’s…a habit.”

She just eyed him, neither rejecting or accepting his apology.

She sat on the love seat opposite of the couch that he’d taken over.

With an innocent look, she slowly put a coffee cup on the table and the bag.

“I’m not much of a cook… so I picked up breakfast. It’s just a black coffee. I figured you didn’t like anything fancy.” 

“T-Thank you,” he stuttered out, trying his best not to sound harsh.

Those words were strange coming out of his mouth. And Jason couldn’t figure out if it was because he’d completely lost his manners or there wasn’t anything someone had done for him lately that warranted any sort of thanks.

“I’m sorry about taking off your clothes,” she suddenly said. “I would’ve given you something. But…well…I don’t have anything even close to your size. Even my oversized clothing wouldn’t have fit.”

Jason was about to tell her it was OK, but she continued.

“Not that I would’ve even been able to put it on you. I hardly got your clothes off.”

Jason smirked at that. “Speaking of which, how the hell did you get my helmet off.”

“Yeah…I managed to get you to come to for a minute or so.” Then she shifted in her seat, clutching her coffee tighter as if it was a security blanket. “I honestly just asked you very nicely. I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone what you looked like. You were kind of just…a zombie or something and…took it off.”

Then he took her stature in. Jason knew he was a big guy. He was bigger than the majority of men. He’d only met a few women in his life that were taller than him, and they were all either Amazons or aliens.

This young woman was neither of those things.

“How did you get me off that roof?”

She laughed, seeing that he was trying to add it up in his head. “I’m definitely no Superman. My neighbor doesn’t have any other hobbies besides going to the gym. He owed me a favor.” Then her eyes widened. “Don’t worry, he didn’t see you without your helmet. He’s also sworn to secrecy.”

Jason shrugged. “It’s fine if he did. I can just kill him later.”

He saw her whole body tense up at that.

“Relax. I’m kidding.”

Her tension was released, but she didn’t find his joke very funny.

Then her eyes locked to the floor.

Jason took this chance to study her. 

Her hair was a bit of a mess. But there was still a halo around it as the sun shined from behind her. Her jeans were a bit baggy, but purposely so. She was wearing a band t-shirt that was so worn that there were a few holes in it.

Jason had to acknowledge that she was beautiful. But he had made note of that as soon as he’d pointed a gun at her.

“I ended last night with a life-threatening injury…amongst other things,” Jason said as he looked down at his body. “I woke up with not even a scratch on me. So why don’t you tell me how the hell that’s possible?”

She finally raised her gaze from the floor to him. Then she swallowed and clenched her jaw. It was clear she had been hoping for a scenario where Jason didn’t ask any questions, where he would just give his thanks and move on.

But she wasn’t that lucky. 

“Hey,” he said gently. “You’ve seen my face. You know who I am now. Whatever it is you’re scared to tell me, we’ll be even.”

She stared at him a bit longer before taking in a shaky breath. “I…umm…can do this thing.”

“Uh huh,” he encouraged.

“I can heal people by…umm…touching them?”

Jason sat back, letting the information settle. “Huh,” he said with small nod.

“I saved your life,” she told him. “All I ask in return is that you keep my secret.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he told her.

She nodded nervously, but didn’t seem fully convinced.

“What’s your name?” He asked her softly.

She looked unsure if she should tell him.

“I’m Jason. Jason Todd.” He offered to even the playing field.

She tilted her head, probably because she heard that name before. Everyone in Gotham had at some point. The tragic death of Bruce Wayne’s second adopted son. And then the dead son who had somehow come back, his death misidentified. There were hundreds of rumors about what really happened. But they all sounded ridiculous to her.

“Y/N,” she finally told him.

“Thank you for saving my life, Y/N.” He scratched the back of his neck. “But I have to ask why you did.”

After all, the neighborhood she lived in was weary of Gotham’s vigilantes. Some believed they were keeping them safe, while others thought they were just making things worse. It led to a general distrust of the masked heroes.

“They say the Red Hood used to be Robin,” she told him quietly.

“I don’t pay attention to what people say…”

Y/N leaned forward. “But is it true? Were you Robin back then?”

Jason ground his teeth together. “That was a lifetime ago.”

She watched him for a minute, working out whether she wanted to share something or not. 

“When I was a little girl, I was at the bank with my mom when a robbery went down. Things went bad and quick. They panicked, decided a little girl was the best hostage to grab. We barely got a few blocks away before Batman intervened. I was terrified, even of him. But Robin was with him…and he could tell I was scared. He wasn’t that much older than me, but he was so much braver. He held my hand until the police came. But even then I wouldn’t let go of him. So, he stayed with me until my mom got there.” She took in a deep and shaky breath. “It meant a lot to me.”

Jason controlled his expression, but he knew what she was talking about. He remembered that night. How he did was beyond him. But it didn’t feel long ago. He remembered thinking the little girl was pretty. 

Jason didn’t have a lot of friends back then. He came from the streets but lived in a mansion. He couldn’t figure out who he was back then. And it was hard to relate to other children. 

Back then, it was the most intimate interaction he had with someone his age. 

“Would you still have saved me last night even if I hadn’t been Robin?” 

This was all Y/N would get in terms of Jason admitting that he had been Robin that night.

Y/N shrugged and nodded. Then she cleared her throat. “The only thing saving this shit hole of a city is people doing the right thing.”

Jason stood.

The motion startled Y/N and she followed his action without even meaning to.

Now that he was standing on his own two feet, she truly understood just how absolutely massive he was. She was by no means short and she still felt like she was looking at a giant.

However, Jason misread her gawking for something else. “You don’t have to be scared of me, kid. I’m not going to hurt you,” he told her quietly.

“I’m not scared of you,” she said as her face suddenly felt hot.

Y/N didn’t know what she had expected to see under that red helmet last night. But she definitely wasn’t expecting a man handsome enough to be a model.

But then her brow scrunched, “And I’m not a kid.” Jason smiled – like, genuinely smiled. The muscles on his face forgot what that felt like.

He eyed the band t-shirt she was wearing: Fleetwood Mac – the Rumors album, to be precise.

“You’ve got good taste in music,” Jason complimented.

“Thank you,” Y/N mumbled.

A new tension filled the air.

Something neither of them have felt in awhile – if at all.

Y/N cleared her throat again, starting to feel too close to this large and beautiful man who was only standing in his briefs.

“You can use the shower if you want.”

Jason smirked. “Thanks, but I should get out of your hair. You’ve already done enough for me.”

He took a step toward her, realizing that he seemed to like seeing her reaction to his presence.

She stayed in place, but shifted her weight.

Jason lowered his head a bit. “Your secret is safe with me, Y/N. Thank you again…you saved my life.”

——————

Y/N and Jason couldn’t stop thinking about one another since that morning.

Jason had trust issues. And because of those trust issues, he learned not to rely on others. He refused to be anything besides independent. But those flaws were also the reason it was so hard for him to get close to anyone. He kept people at a distance so he could never be rejected or get his heart broken. It was problematic, but that was how he survived.

But Y/N had shown him kindness and then expected absolutely nothing in return. She just hoped he wouldn’t shoot her brains out when he finally came to.

Meanwhile, Y/N couldn’t remember the last time a man looked at her the way Jason had. Just thinking about the looks he gave her caused goosebumps to shiver across her skin. She’d seen the scars across his skin and knew he’d lived a rough life. And that wasn’t even including the scars his mind and heart held. She wondered who was the last person to help him or to just show him that they cared whether he lived or died.

It had been a few weeks and Y/N still couldn’t get Jason Todd out of her mind. Even now, as she sat on the rooftop of her building once again, eating a pizza she’d just picked up and washing it down with cheap red wine.

She almost spilled said wine all over herself when she jumped from the sound of someone dropping onto the roof from behind her.

Y/N whipped around to see Red Hood walking steadily toward her.

“Sorry. I tried to be loud so I wouldn’t scare you.” His voice sounded different from the helmet distorting it.

“Well, most people use doors and stairs…so I think the effort is pretty useless.”

Jason ignored her joke and pulled out a thick envelope that had been tucked on the inside of his leather jacket. 

He handed it to her.

Y/N was confused, but took it from his grasp anyway.

She opened it to find two tickets to see Fleetwood Mac on their reunion tour at Gotham City Stadium.

Her gaze shot up to Jason’s and then she did a double take at the tickets, making sure she wasn’t seeing things.

“How - What - Why?” She finally sputtered out the right question.

Jason just shrugged. “I owed you.”

“T-This is too much. I can’t accept this. These tickets must’ve cost a fortune,” she told him as she tried to hand the envelop back to him.

But he wasn’t having it and simply shook his head.

Y/N knew they cost a fortune because she had looked up tickets. Her heart had broken when she saw how far out of her budget the lowest prices were.

“Take them, Y/N. Please.”

She knew there was no point in arguing.

But she slowly looked up at him. “Would…ummm… Would you like to go with me?”

Jason blinked at the offer. “Seriously?”

Y/N laughed at his surprise. “Yeah, I mean, clearly you’re a fan, too.” Then she shrugged, now self conscious that she’d been too forward. “I don’t know. When was the last time you did something fun?”

Jason was shocked at how right she was.

“Oh, my God!” Y/N suddenly yelped.

Jason immediately jumped into action, grabbing both of his guns and stepping to Y/N in a protective stance.

“Jason, you’re bleeding!” She cried out, not realizing that he had just used his body as a human shield for her to defend an attack that wasn’t even happening.

He relaxed and followed her gaze to his forearm – the small patch of skin between his gloves and the rolled up sleeve of his leather jacket. He had been sliced by a knife. He probably needed to clean it before it got infected and stitch it up. 

“Y/N, it’s just a scratch.”

“Shut up,” she snapped. “Come here.”

Then he let her dragged him to the two fold-out chairs she kept on the roof.

Jason realized suddenly that he didn’t mind being bossed around by this woman. In fact, he kind of enjoyed it.

Without asking for permission, Y/N put her palm over his cut.

Jason watched as he felt a comforting warmth wash over the area of skin that she was touching. Within seconds, his cut was completely gone.

Y/N gave it a satisfied smile. No matter how many injuries she healed, the pride and relief never went away.

“You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” Jason was relieved his helmet hid the dumbstruck look that was surely on his face. 

Y/N didn’t seem to take the compliment very well and slightly folded into herself.

“So, will you?” She changed the subject quickly.

“Will I what?” But as Jason asked for clarification, he knew that he’d probably do anything Y/N would ask of him.

“Will you go to the concert with me?”

He nodded.

The nonverbal answer was enough for Y/N because she gave him a beaming smile.

In that moment, Jason wondered how he could ever push Y/N away like he had done with everyone else in his life. 

And for once, he allowed himself to feel happy.

Maybe he could keep letting himself be happy, as long as it included Y/N. 

---------------------------

Really, really loving writing for Jason Todd. I was a little exhausted with Marvel fandom.  Let me know what you think!

[dairy-farmer]

just wanted to let you that the line "you gonna let me cum in you like when you were a kid?" from your Twitter thread is going to be stuck in my head forever

I love the idea of Bruce's one reprieve from being Batman, saving the city, keeping track of all his adopted kids, taking care of WE, etc is the little neighbor boy from next door <3

i actually constructed that entire scenario because that line of dialogue entered my head!! i wanted to figure out a way to use it and grown up neighbor tim was what came to mind!!!😊😊😊

the phrase is almost reminiscent of something a teasing older person would say to a kid coming back after their first year at college, only it's more explicit and gives an image of their relationship and just how far back it goes as well as the contents of said relationship!!

in a world without dick, whose parents never fell and he's still traveling and part of the circus alongside them and a younger sister, and jason who was left in the care of his maternal grandmother because before catherine died she was desperate to not leave jason in a horrible situation and reconciled with her mother who she hadn't spoken to since she was a teenager. that left bruce, all alone. all those years with no one to watch his back and he grew more jaded, he got more injured, had a harder time keeping focus on what he was doing and why he was doing it.

then tim came along. a little droplet of a kid who made bruce laugh and made him feel something other than that gray cloud that followed him around and rained down on him. who bruce cared for watch, taught, played with, laughed, fucked, and loved.

alfred still worked on the manor's grounds but he'd moved away long ago and it was just bruce in that manor most days. alfred, after decades of having his words fall on deaf ears had one day just...stopped. given up. and he'd told bruce he'd be working only 3 out 7 days of the week to clean up, dust, and freeze his meals for the week.

with tim around bruce had learned how to cook, how to wash his own clothes because tim didn't know how to . the two of them learned and picked up numerous hobbies together. ones that helped bruce branch out more with the justice league coworkers he was so estranged from. bruce hadn't known how to explain the feeling in his chest when superman had engaged with him in a really immersive conversation about canning foods.

bruce wasn't much of a person before tim, he'd been an empty husk of a man that was made alive when this sweet little faerie wandered into his garden.

bruce from another verse having all his kids, WE, and having a strong career as batman but always feeling like something is missing until he meets tim❤️❤️❤️❤️

[anjuschiffer]

The Fabric Roll Of Fate

So this has been sitting in my WIPs since October of last year... Finally had the time to finish it up! More like I couldn’t sleep so I finally worked on it

Hope you enjoy it!

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Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo (welcome to the permanent taglist!)

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It was one of those random family outings, one of those moments that Damian was reluctantly dragged to

He just wanted to stay home and train for the upcoming fencing tournament in his school, one of the few things that Damian looked forward to in the school year

Yet here he was, being held captive and listening to Garyson talk for the umpteenth time about his daughter’s latest adventure

Finding an opening, Damian slips off, walking through alleyways to escape his family, eventually arriving to the fashion district of Gotham

He decides to enter the first store he sees, seeing as his hands were starting to get cold

He hated Gotham’s chilly and cold seasons. Spring was his favorite season.

As he ventures inside the store, he starts to look at the fabric inside, now wondering why fashion designers were so picky with their fabrics

It was when he saw two identical rolls of fabric that he decided to investigate for his answer

As he runs his hands across two white fabrics (linen and velvet), he notices the slight differences, not noticing that he was starting to mumble his observations

It was then that his hand bumps into someone else’s Damian turning to see a girl his age.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to bother you!” She quickly apologizes. “You were probably in your zone and-”

“I was simply looking at them. You didn’t interrupt anything.”

Damian watches as the girl relaxes and smiles at him.

“I see. Well, if you need any help, I’d be happy to help! Is there a certain reason you’re-”

“I was thinking of hiring someone to make me a suit for an upcoming event-” Damian attempted to lie (although he technically didn’t as his family was looking for one...not like he was going to tell them about the one he just found), taken aback when the girl looked at him with twinkling eyes. What was going on

“A suit? So I’m guessing a tux, but if you want something to make you standout- but I think you don’t want that, huh?” She begins to look him up and down, quickly mumbling some numbers to herself. “Black or any dark color would suit you, but having emerald accents-no! Gold accents would suit you better.” Damian remains silent as she circles him, not once placing a hand on him. “Shawl collars, traditional or modern could work. Definitely single breast, maybe tail-oh god no. No tails.” Damian watched as her eyes filled with happiness. “A cumberbund would definitely suit you. That’s where I can place the gold!”

Damian kept listening as the girl kept listing ideas to herself, watching with awe as she kept the ideas coming, eventually snapping out of his trance when she presented him a card.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to make that suit. Of course! The decision is yours if you’d allow me to make it.” He watches as the girl points to a phone number and email address in rose gold. “Give me a call, text or email if you decide to accept my offer. See ya!”

Damian is left dumbfounded as he watches her go and pick some fabric rolls, purchase them and then leave.

“What just happened?”

Damian looks at the all black card in his hand. On one side was the phone number and email. On the other, the letters M D C were on the card, a single line going through the three letters. Simple, yet elegant.

Damian ends up accepting the offer, setting to meet the girl that Friday afternoon after his classes.

When his family attempts to tag along, he tells them no, setting on going alone.

“Welcome to my humble home.” She greets him after picking him up (she insisted despite Damian saying he had his own mode of transport) at the rendezvous and then to her flat. He was faced with one of Gotham’s most expensive penthouses, Damian wondering who exactly was this girl who can afford one of his father’s expensive hotels.

“Do you...live by yourself?”

“Yup! Although my uncle- oh! How can I forget?” The girl says, closing the door behind her. “Sorry for the late introduction! My name’s Marinette. The one behind the upcoming brand MDC. I’m currently here for a commission. Although, by the looks of it, I might end up staying here in Gotham.”

He’s heard of her, the decade’s youngest designer in the fashion world, or so he’s heard.

“Now, let’s start with getting your measurements, shall we?”

One visit became two, to then various

And they were mainly never about his suit that she was making him.

He didn’t know why he found him attracted to her place...to her

But simply felt at home with her

He quickly learns everything about her. Her old school life, her friends, her ex, her parents, hobbies, and old commissions. 

At first he thought she graduated early from highschool because of her bully, but it turns out that it was because she already had all her requirements done and seeing that there was no other reason to stay, she left. Also, having more time is what she needed if she wanted to succeed in the fashion world. So when her uncle (who he learns is Jagged Stone) offered her a hand, she took it and came to Gotham.

But Damian didn’t just listen, he also talked about himself

About Titus, his family, his fencing tournament. His opinions on Selina. His mixed feelings about his mother.

His family kept trying to follow him, but they have yet to figure out where he would go every other afternoon and evening.

Months pass, the suit already done and ready to be worn, but it still wasn’t the day of the Gala yet. But even then, Damian still stopped by, often times letting Marinette use him as a mannequin and dress form

Sometimes they would continue to talk about their mundane lives or things from the past that still ate at them, anything for Damian to simply listen to her voice because while he didn’t fully accept it, he knew he had feelings for her.

A scene that happens:

“And the worst part was that Alya knew she was lying. Lila was definitely not there because Alya was there. She was the one who saw Ladybug capture the akuma not Lila. Lila wasn’t anywhere near Paris when it even happened!” Marinette huffed as she tippy toed to make sure she was measuring the correct portion of Damian’s back. 

Damian felt her presence ever so close to him, causing him to panic. Yes, he only allowed her to invade his personal space, but this was too much for his heart. 

The aroma of baked goods always radiated from her and being this close only made Damian want to become obsessed with the smell even more. 

“So even with that in mind, this Alya decided to take the other girl’s stance?” Marinette let out a sigh, walking in front of Damian and throwing the tape measure around his neck, causing him to tense up. 

“Yeah, and I guess that’s what really made me snap to reality when it came to Alya.” Mari frowned at that, tightening the tape closer to each other to get a collar measure. 

Lord, did she have no idea how much restraint Damian had to put himself under for just wanting to kiss her right now, but he knew better than than. 

He took her hands away from the tape, noticing her eyes lacking that shine they usually carry when she’s in the crafting zone. He looked at her hands, covered in calluses and a few sewing mishaps. Even when they were covered in painful memories, Marinette hands were still gentle. “What’s gentle?” 

Damian’s breath hitched, realizing that he said that last part out loud. 

“You are.” Damian said, bringing her hands to his lips to kiss. Damian couldn’t help but feel victorious at the sight of Marinette glowing pink. “You’re a gentle and kind person. She doesn’t deserve your kindness if she was willing to quickly push you aside like that.”

Marinette looked straight at Damian before throwing herself into his chest, almost causing him to tip back. “Thank you, Damian.”

A few days were left until the gala, and it just had to be that time when his stupid brothers found out about his meetings with Marinette (and him coning to terms that he absolutely loves her)

“A girl, huh?” Jason would tease while Dick tried to gathering more information about Damian’s “friend”

“She’s simply designing my suit for-”

“The gala. Sure Lil’ D.” Grayson would say before wanting to pry more information from him. 

“Why don’t you invite her to the gala?” Bruce proposes, Damian no thinking about it

“Maybe I will.” He regrets saying

And Marinette ends up saying yes, now panicking about what to wear

“What about that dress?” Damian points to her almost completed black dress.

A high collared black dress with long sleeves was what Damian was referring to. With an open back and skirt that fell to the ground, it’s golden accents by the collar that ran across the chest...it would match his own all black suit with golden accents at the shoulders and cumberbund. 

“That.. that could actually work.”

Time skip to the gala, where when the two arrive, they steal the spotlight because not only did Damian arrive with a date, but she was stunning. Despite being three inches taller than him, Marinette was perfect by his side

“So Damian, what’s her name and how’d you meet this girl?” Jason asked first, but to Dick’s annoyance.

“Her name’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the one behind both of our attires.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Dupain-Cheng.” Bruce manages to say despite being surprised by Damian’s new development.

“So how-” Tim attempted to ask, but marinette cut him off.

“We met at a fabric store. A fabric roll brought us together.”

The night goes on, with it ending by Marinette asking Damian to be her boyfriend. (Damian then also reveals that he was also going to ask her to be his girlfriend)

“Of course.” He says, having to stretch to kiss her, glad to have gone into that fabric store that day.

Sure, it was weird, but Damian was glad to day that a single fabric roll decided their fate of meeting each other.

[comic-brew]

On Smoldering Ashes

Chapter Two: If any more blood is to be spilt

@whumptober2020 days 3. Held At Gunpoint, 6. "Stop, Please", 9. "Take Me Instead", 14. Branding and 21. Stitches (Altprompt)

Series summary: Bruce Wayne has gotten vulnerable. Bruce Wayne has found love. His love and his kids are all he needs to find happiness. Some sick concept of fate doesn't like him being happy.

Notes: Forgive me for I have sinned. Oh god, oh lord, what in the blazing hells is this. Shitty shitty but I'm tired and late *drops mic* (37 mins/4.6k words I've exhausted tumblr's paragraph limit)

Warnings: RATED MATURE. Graphic depictions of child abuse and torture, graphic depictions of violence, blood, swearing, heavy I guess angst

AO3 | Prev Chapter | Next Chapter

***

"Why" Dick hears Bruce's voice implore. "Why are you doing this? I thought-"

Bruce's merely balancing on his toes inches from the end of the cliff, Dick can figure just by the way his voice wavers like it has only ever done no more than a couple times in the past.

Cecile knows this. She knows Bruce, and she knows this. And quite possibly she's enjoying it way too much.

"Because, dear, who can say they're getting paid to practise their hobbies?"

Dick can only gawk at her, an frankly that's the only thing all the others seem able to do as well.

Hobbies?

They're nothing but a plaything to her.

It doesn't seem right. This shouldn't be happening. Dick should be helping B plan the wedding that made him beam just at the thought of taking place.

Not being held in an unknown location by his could-be step mother.

They really dodged a bullet, but in doing so they fell right into a different trap.

His family's unable to speak, stunned by the sudden revelations. He can't blame them, nor can he blame Jason for cursing under his breath.

Barbara's the first to snap out of their trance.

"What could you possibly want that Bruce's money couldn't get you?" she asks. Her true goal though, expertly weaved inside is search of Cecile's motive.

There's none.

Cecile giggles. "Oh dear. It's never about money. It's not personal either, if that's what's bugging all of you. And although my client does pay a fair amount, in reality.. pain and suffering are simply way too enjoyable."

Client, Dick notes. Somebody's paying for this. Somebody that most likely knows who they are when night falls. Somebody dangerous.

Cecile then turns to look directly at Bruce, as she expertly hides her poison inside cheerfully spoken words.

"And you, love, with as many kids as you have here,-" she says, and Bruce's face crumples, "-are going to be a very, very interesting subject"

Duke shakes his head in disbelief at the woman.

"You're sick"

Cecile sits back and ponders on this statement for a bit. Just for a split second, so it's enough to pass across that message, but not quite long to let them be freed from that entrapping mist of concurrent desire for knowledge, and repulse keeping them bound to every word that falls from her lips.

"Perhaps I am" she ventures.

"Perhaps we're all sick, just in different ways. Have you ever thought of that?"

Dick has in fact thought of that, but his answer would never share meaning with Cecile's. How different really are they from the people they fight? They lock all those costumed freaks up in Arkham, but they themselves could very well be described in the exact same way. Sometimes he wonders if they're insane for choosing this life, and the answer that his mind spits out is always yes.

Every life they save is worth it. That's the truth that makes him continue to put on the suit every night, even though the wounds inflicted on him the previous night are still healing.

But are they really making a difference? Aren't they just lunatics running around in kevlar and spandex. Isn't all the grime and mold of the city simply feeding off of them like leeches?

Dick can't focus on that now. Questioning his life choices might have to wait until he's not that tied up.

Heh. Tied up.

Meanwhile Cecile has exploited the moment of nonplussed silence she's created to tighten her sleek ponytail.

Keeping the attention to herself. Every move is calculated to milliseconds.

"Okay, so here's how this is going to go" she begins, clasping her hands together, then motioning towards their hanging limbs. "Do you see those cool little bracelets on your hands?"

On cue, nine heads tilt upwards to test Cecile's statement. And there, right on his forearm Dick can spot a faint blue light shining dully on what seems to be the middle of a silver-like device.

"Those give us, the immense pleasure of electrocuting you whenever you folks might try to escape, or cause any unwanted trouble" she informs, with her mouth taut into a completely mechanical smile.

"Or.. you know. If we're just bored and feel like it"

"And this little screen right in front of you, it's pretty bland now, if you ask me"

She then starts pacing around in the segregated room, seeming to find great amusement in hearing how her heels click against the concrete.

"Well what if I told you the sight will get more entertaining?"

Dick doesn't like this.

"Before you ask, I will not spoil the experience for you. But I will give you this: you will be the stars of a grand performance. You in particular, circus boy should be thrilled by this fact"

He flinches when he mentions him in that way. It's then that his mind fully comprehend just how much she knows them.

It's not just some kidnapping, of those they've had many before. But it's never been like this. Never has a stranger gotten so close only to betray them for laughs.

Some could argue that it was a similar case when Jason had come back, but Jason had always had a motivation. A goal.

Cecile's doing this for nothing else than pleasure.

Before he can compose himself and reply her voice strikes again, this time in the form of a snarl. "So? Any volunteers?"

No, Dick doesn't like this at all.

"Leave them alone" Bruce demands, only it's not precisely Bruce anymore. Not only has his voice assumed the dark edge of the Knight, but his speech is completely neutral, apathetic. Somehow, his emotional state is even more prominent that way.

"It's me you want to get back to"

"Oh, no" Cecile frowns. "No, no Brucie. This is not about you. Hell, it's not even about them. It's about me. And I say it will be nicer to leave you for last."

She rests a finger on her chin contemplatively, but it's fake. It's all fake, and provocatively so. Cecile's head twists around so that her malicious glare lands on Damian.

"How about our little asshole over here?"

No. Not Damian. Never in a million years. Never in a billion years.

"If you value your life you'll stay away you imbecilic Jezebel" Damian hisses, but Cecile makes no motion to enter their space. Instead, the man in black leaves his post to disappear behind the door Cecile had previously entered from, most likely leading even further away.

"I do value my life"

He comes back with three more identically dressed men, one slightly leaner than the other, and one slightly taller.

"Plenty, for that" she says loftily, and while one of the men returns to his post by her side, the other two barge in through a barely visible door next to the right end of the glass.

There's an outrage as the men quickly advance towards the boy. Everything's blurry and spinning and his ears are ringing so that Dick can't quite figure out if he's shouting along with his brothers and sisters or if he's simply been trapped in a lucid dream all this time.

Voices and bangs and thuds and yells, it all gets lost in the end. So much thunderous noice, yet still it can he broken down to its core. Raw and frantic cries of dissent, repeated over and over in a canon, until the words and senses are but a blurred collage of ire and desolation.

Cecile whips a rectangular device from her suit's pocket and before her finger has enough time to hover above one of the polished buttons, the last is pressed and Damian's body is released from the pipeline.

The boy wastes no time, immediately lunging for the men, and despite any rust slowing down his joints because of their inactivity, he manages to hold off the two men looming over him with size thrice his own.

Dick wants to hold hope inside his heart, but he knows it's futile. He also knows Damian is aware that this fight was lost before it even began, but his baby brother isn't a quitter, nor a coward by his own standards.

If Cecile is startled by Damian's fierce resistance, she doesn't let it show. Her finger finds the device held loosely in her grasp, and a different button is pushed. Sparks that are birthed from the device on Damian's forearm begin to climb throughout his every inch of flesh, until he soon collapses to the ground -like lifeless weight.

The men drag him out of their view, and Dick swears he witnessed a smirk manifesting on their faces while they yelled with all their might, yet completely powerless.

***

It starts with low and hollow grunts. It starts with insults, it starts with defiance, it starts with barely discernible hisses.

Most importantly, it starts with no image.

Only screams. Separated by breathless gasps.

"Please, stop"

Dick's heart shrinks into his chest, sinking deep, deep down, until his lungs are under too much pressure to expand.

The screen flickers to life only after the first hollow screams have subsided.

It's.. not a good sight. Nobody expected it to be.

The room is small and dark, the camera feed is black and white and grainy, but that doesn't help in reducing the horror.

The image focuses enough for Dick to make out Cecile finishing stitching deep gashes on Damian's torso back together in the worst way possible.

Cecile retracts her hand hastily, like she's forgotten something. She lolls her head to the side, waving primly towards the camera.

"Stay tuned for a surprise" she whispers almost conspiratorially before turning to Damian, severing the thread with her own fingers, picking at flesh and stretching it out until he's bleeding again all over the gurney he's tied onto.

Damian struggles not to let her hear the sound she would find oh so hedonic. He grits his teeth and grinds his jaw, but groans emanate from him without his consent.

Cecile sets the sutures and her other tools on a filthy table standing miserably beside her.

"Your brother's such an ass" she declares almost smugly, while shifting in her place to face the camera

Without a warning she pokes a finger inside Damian's open wound, evoking a strangled yelp of agony. Soon enough Cecile's retracted her finger. She brings her hand up to her face. She makes a show of admiring the fresh blood coating it, before she tastes it.

She giggles nonchalantly, but there's that certain grace to everything she does.

"Don't worry. We're not done yet"

No. No, this can't happen. He can't let this go on any longer than it already has.

He has to take his place. He'll take his brother's place. Just, god. Just please listen..

"Take me instead!" Dick screams at the top of his lungs, and the dread climbing up his ribcage seeps into his voice. Bent in ways abnormal, tuning in with his despair.

"Do you hear me?!"

He's flailing around wildly and almost hysterically, his voice is getting hoarser by the second. Kicking and bumping the air, but the chains are relentless, so that he's supposed to sit idly by and watch while his little brother is being tortured.

All alone in a dark room.

The man standing tall and unmoving on the other side of the glass only smirks slightly.

"Leave Damian alone!" Dick roars at the screen, and roars at the man, but he knows it's pointless.

Cecile smiles once again to the direction of the camera as she elegantly walks away from Damian, leaving him alone strapped to the gurney -panting, sweat dripping down his forehead.

Damian's head follows the woman even as she disappears out of Dick's sight. The boy's face crumples. Breathless pleas escape his trembling lips, in swift exhales of air that hold no power.

"Please no"

She reemerges cradling an incandescent piece of metal. The sickening calmness on her face is doused in its fiery glow, and all Dick can utter as he goes deathly pale and still is a breathless "No"

Dick finally has enough contact with reality to register his brothers and sisters' own twisting and shouting. The sounds are earpiercing but all hollow to his ears, and Dick only does acknowledge their existence by sight of tears on enraged faces, jaws snapping open with enough force to dislocate, muscles toned and clenched uncomfortably, bodies bent and struggling, in futile attempts to raise enough force and reach the glass to perhaps create a distraction.

Dick can't figure out the faces from his peripheral vision, nor does he care enough to try.

"No."

His eyes are stubbornly fixed on Damian's own, shining wide with terror as the metal illuminates his skin more and more clearly on the screen. On Damian, desperately tugging against the straps keeping him bound to the gurney to no avail, struggling to be freed before the red-hot iron burns the exposed skin of his chest.

"No.. please no" Damian mumbles, and he looks so small. Smaller than a child his age should look. More frightened than a child his age should be.

Dick had promised -to him and to himself- that he'd always be there for his little brother.

He watches helplessly as the metal sizzles the first layer of flesh. He watches as his little brother writhes and squirmes helplessly under the red-hot iron melting into his skin, and he realizes he can't keep his promise.

No, no, no, no, no

Damian is screaming with all his soul and all Cecile does is laugh. Cecile is laughing, and Damian is being tortured because Dick couldn't keep his promise.

He failed him.

"Take me!"

Please no. Not Dami.

Every inch and acre of Dick's skin feels set aflame, but the pain is nothing but the child of wildfire blazing and burning in his chest. Its smoke has filled his eyes with tears burning like acid.

Failed him.

In his ears buzz cracking woods and falling towers. Not his brother's screams and pleas for mercy, not the echoes of laughter, not the thundering cries of their family.

Failed.

And because of his failure his little robin is expected to endure agonizing pain, as also the wounds inflicted on him are what make Dick's failure not only discernible but grievous.

Failure equals repercussions.

Failure equals punishment.

Perhaps it's irrational, and perhaps he's lost his mind long, long ago. Perhaps this is all a nightmare that he can't wake up from, but Dick's senses don't deceive him.

His every cell is howling in despair but yelling and praying are not enough to relieve them of their pain. Flowers buried deep in ice, frantically searching for sunlight- too frantically to know that they're dead.

Dick failed him. Dick should have been the one punished for this failure.

Only moments have passed but the agony grabs them and twists them, draws them out until seconds can't be told apart by eons.

Dick's eyes are fixed on the form spasming on the screen, but those eyes are empty and hollow.

Their azure blue has evaporated, their glossy white has been burnt to the ground. Obsidian vortexes shining with the life they've stolen from his soul in the half light, is all that is left of them.

Damian's voice is rough from the perpetual screaming, but Dick can hear no more.

So he prays to whatever deity listens that Cecile is reached by his own cries tearing through his throat with fading intensity. Perhaps so loudly the air is grazing his vocal cords more harshly than it should.

Perhaps so loudly he is already silent.

But Dick won't mind it even if they fail to produce a sound ever after these, as long as his flesh is torn and burnt instead of Dami's.

The flesh being torn and burnt is his, in a way, but not in any way that matters.

The iron is removed and Damian's face slowly appears behind the sparse smoke of his own smoldering skin.

***

Cecile reappears behind the glass, walking ever so elegantly towards the barrier separating her from them. She peers at each and every one of them in amusement, deaf to te insults so full of hatred being hurled at her from every corner.

She smiles at the teary paths staining Cass and Barbara's cheeks,

"You fucking-"

"-embodiment of evil and-"

"go-"

She laughs at the veins popping on Duke, Jason and Stephanie's necks as they shout their lungs out, feebly attempting to stop the world from sinking,

"I'm gonna fucking kill you"

"Jay calm down-"

"You repulsive.. abomination-"

"-to hell-"

She gracefully snickers at Tim and Bruce's state of dishevelled resignation, a progression of the rage and agony to the point where they're no more prominent than their breathing,

"You hear me? You're going to burn-"

"Don't you dare tell me to calm the fuck down, replacement"

"-in hell"

"He's right Jason, this doesn't help Dam-"

"you'll wish you were dead before I get my hands on you"

But she stops in her track when her piercing hazel eyes land on Dick. So visibly worn out, yet determinedly burning holes through her with his glare.

She stops, and can only regard him in newfound interest.

Dick doesn't shift in his place. Doesn't bat an eye as he speaks with the power of a thousand thunderstorms enhancing the calmness in his voice.

He's made up his mind.

It's his failure.

His decision.

"You'll stop" he says, almost nonchalantly.

Cecile cocks an eyebrow, scoffing.

"Excuse me?"

"You'll bring Damian back here with us. And you'll stop."

Cecile smirks ever so slightly. "I'm afraid I'm not quite done with your brother yet. Besides, why would I do that?"

"Because you will" Dick growls, but soon enough he masks his outburst beneath a carefully tailored poker face.

Something unreadable passes across the woman's face. Dick assumes she's caught up to his thinking. Of course she has.

"Well, you wound me!" Cecile exaggerates, clasping a hand to her chest. Overacting the entire thing, on purpose no less. She's proven to be too much of a hypocrite for Dick to know she's only acting terribly on purpose.

His stomach is urging him once more to let its contents out, only this time he's not sure it's just a lingering side effect of the drug.

"Although, while wounded, you can consider me intrigued."

Dick swallows thickly. He hopes Cecile doesn't hear him gulp as loudly as he sounds to his own ears.

"You'll stop. Leave Damian alone" he says and although his heart is beating a hundred times faster than it should, his stare is unyielding.

"And you'll take me instead"

Cecile eyes him half incredulously, half entertained, for moments that feels like an eternity. Dick is convinced his soul has already left his body, and the woman is simply left staring blankly at his hanging corpse.

She's still staring vacantly at his direction, with no indication of the fact changing.

But then she chuckles.

She chuckles, and soon snickers are finding their way up her throat one after the other, until her shoulders are shaking with laughter.

Yet the laughs escaping her are perfectly normal. Perfectly contained, just the average sound that could be prompted by an oddly funny joke. A joke so ridiculous it fulfills its purpose.

Perhaps that's the most terrifying part. How human it is.

And Dick is showered in cold sweat when he repeats himself, voice sounding just a little more tight and frantic than need be, but Cecile pays him no mind, laughing silently on her own.

Cecile -most likely pointedly- ignores his protests, which are growing more and more despondent as he's fumbling for words, caught somewhere in the crevasse dividing dread and ire.

"Do whatever you want to do to me! Just-"

He's just a child. Just an innocent child.

"-just leave Damian alone. And take me." Dick says.

An innocent boy caught in the crossfire of a war he never swore to fight, but was instead compelled to win.

His brother caught in the crossfire. His Dami.

His fault.

Dick's stuck in a loop. It doesn't end, it never does. Once it's starts there's no end to look forward to, there's merely one he can imagine, and they won't let him follow it.

All air leaves his lungs. Everything seems so peaceful when the flames tingling his heart have no more smoke to give.

"Take me."

His fault. His responsibility.

"Dick, no," Bruce pleads from behind him. Only then is it that he realizes the rest of them have grown silent, all eyes on him, reflecting the light nearly pensively.

Only then is it that he realizes he's been toeing the line of hysteria. That he doesn't know how to stop.

"B, I have to. I can't let Damia-"

"And I can't let any of you!" Bruce snaps. Dick is taken aback, only not due to the sonorous anger redirected towards him. Rather by the tears he can see glistening all over his father's irises.

Tears.

Shining all across his father's eyes.

Under the enemy's scrutinus gaze, and still he let the sorrow swim all the way up to the surface.

Cecile has stopped laughing. Openly at least, as her palm is covering her mouth in a futile attempt to stifle the giggles, perhaps not wanting to disturb the show. The bright smile lighting her eyes betrays her nonetheless.

"You're my son, Dick. I can't let you do this. I can't let another of my children do this" Bruce concludes, never ending eye contact.

Never trying to deny the tears.

All Dick wants is to give in to the pain of his own, and let Bruce wipe at his eyes and tell him it's all going to be alright, just when he was little.

But he isn't little anymore, is he?

Is he?

Is he strong enough?

No. Not a question. He has to. He has to be-

"I was dead, I should go in next. There's nothing she can do to me that I haven't already gone through" his brother's voice cuts in, disrupting the debate that's been won in his mind, long before it even started.

"Half of us have died, Jason" Stephanie counters. "I don't mind going myself"

"You're not going Steph"

"I'll go then"

"The hell you are, replacement. You didn't make the cut for our club the first time, you'll not make it now.

"Are we seriously having this conversation right now?"

Cass clears her throat to get their attention.

"Me" she offers, and immediately after she's met with loud protests.

Dick watches as the others continue to fight between them, arguing on who should trade places with Damian. They can't understand that he has to do it. He doesn't expect them to. So when Cecile laughs and asks who's it going to be?, his decision is adamant.

"Like I said. It will be me" Dick insists.

He's not little anymore.

"No." Bruce says sternly. "No, you won't go. Do you hear me?"

He is strong enough. He has to be, so he's going to be.

Dick hears him, although elects to ignore him, staring proudly ahead, at the two men walking inside to retrieve him.

Bruce then is yelling, and the others protest, some are still fighting over which one of them should take Damian's place but it's already too late. The cuffs clink open and the two men go to stand by either of Dick's side as soon as his feet touch the ground.

Dick doesn't fight them. He doesn't mind being pushed around with his arms pressed behind his back so tightly his already sore muscles hurt as his arms are straining to bend backwards despite his flexibility. He doesn't mind, because he's doing it for his brother.

As long as his brother's safely reunited with the others, it doesn't matter whatever they might do to him.

Dick sends one last look to his family, and another full of a different kind of love directed right at Babs. He hopes his eyes delivers the thousand messages he doesn't have the time to relay with phrases.

The room is left in hush when the door slides closed behind him.

As far as looks go, Dick's were farewells.

As soon as Dick's dragged into the small room whose horrid purpose he's seen on camera, he spots Damian sitting upright against a corner, with a gun pressed to his temple.

Dick's shoulders stiffen and a breath catches on his throat. Still, it's all going to be alright. It's all going to be okay. Damian's going to be okay.

"I'd advise you not to try anything smart, or-"

"I won't" Dick interrupts sharply.

Cecile stands to the side and gestures towards a skeletal armchair with untied restraining straps. Dick shudders at the thought of how many people have suffered on this same chair, and his stomach fills with dread as the knowledge that he's next settles in.

"Grayson wh-"

"It's okay Dames" Dick says softly, scrambling to regain his composure as he's forced onto the blood stained metal by the men.

He winces when they securely latch the straps around his wrists and ankles, so tightly the leather is pressing into his skin, disrupting blood circulation.

Damian looks hurt and afraid, so Dick does his best swallow his own accelerating fear and suppress the shivers running down his spine, triggered by the icy feeling of metal on his skin.

"Everything is going to be okay"

Dick locks eyes with him and plasters something that feels like the poor excuse of a smile on his face, but he knows it must appear somewhat comforting to his little brother.

Masking his unraveling self beneath a charming smile and a lighthearted joke has always been his gift and curse.

Cecile clasps her hands together impatiently and nods towards the man holding the gun. He hastily shoves Damian into the arms of the leanest of the men, while his extended arm is turned around to point at Dick's head instead.

Damian yelps and as his arms are restrained behind his back, the hideous burn on his exposed chest comes into Dick's full view.

Dick's breath hitches despite himself and.. and..

It's...

The ghastly tendrils of burnt skin spreading across his little Robin's chest that spell out the word brat…

Dick could never describe the utter despair and pain and sorrow and ire and helplessness he feels, yet he doesn't have the time to stare right through the monstrosity etched onto his little brother's flesh as suddenly his chin is being pushed uncomfortably upwards by the barrel of the gun being pressed firmly against the soft skin right above his neck.

As Dick gulps, his Adam's apple bobs almost visibly on his inconveniently prolonged neck. The underlying dizziness finds the perfect opportunity to strike him again as his head slightly lolls backwards.

He no longer sees Damian, but amidst the sounds of his heartbeat echoing from inside the veins and taut muscles in his neck, a small and strangled Richard finds its way to his ears.

"I'm fine" Dick assures, even though he's nothing but. "I'll be fine. Love you, lil bro"

The absence of an answer doesn't concern him as much as that of shuffling or any indication that Damian is guided out of the room.

That is, until a delicate stray sniffle rips his heart apart.

If he could glance at his little Dami, he'd be able to see his reflection fall from his watering eyes in teardrops that he can no longer contain.

Dick can imagine the silently crying face, and so he shuts his eyes closed harshly, trapping inside all the pain and anguish lest it makes way to the surface

With a wavering voice he demands:

"Now let Damian go"

When he reopens his eyes with a breathy gasp he's all alone, bound to the metal skeleton of the chair.

Relief floods his heart.

If any more blood is to be spilt, it shall be his.

[kaylathekittykat225]

Pretty Girl // Jason Todd X Reader

Warning/s: small mentions of insecurities, but all is good

Word Count: 4,016

Hey guys, hope you all enjoy. It would be cool to hear what you guys like about my writing if you have the chance, just trying to see what y’all like to see from me. :)

Here’s my Masterlist.

Enjoy.

—–

"Honestly Bruce we are fine, we can take care of Gotham for three nights...No we aren't gonna let it catch fire...Come on that was one time! And that was all Tim's fault! Why aren't you blaming him?!"

"Hey!" Jason groaned as soon as he heard the younger Wayne boy pipe up, obviously tapping into the conversation between Jason and Bruce. Bruce started yelling at Tim, Tim started yelling at Jason, Jason was yelling at the wall he kicked, honestly, it was all a muddled mess.

"Shut up!" The three arguing men all dropped their jaws at being told what to do, and them actually obeying it. Jason opened his mouth to say something sarcastic back, honestly, it's his best come back yet, but Damian spoke up again. "Todd, go to your left."

"What the-"Jason looked over to his left and saw an alley way below him. "If I go left, I fall off the damn roof, you twit. If you wanted me gone that badly, you could have just asked."

"Todd, just go down the damn alley." Bruce's voice in the background was telling Damian off for using language while the vigilante did as the younger asked. He clambered down the fire shoot and walked about the darkened alley way that smelled like old seafood and Chinese.

"Okay Damian, what am I doing down here?" Even through his red helmet, Jason could smell every horrible stench, his lenses adjusting to the much darker surroundings and trying to find something that Damian could have noticed even when he's in Paris with Bruce.

"Just listen." Silence filled the air as he did, he even turned up the sensitivity of his helmet's audio receiver, and still found nothing. "There." Just as Damian spoke, a quiet whine overpowered Jason's ears, deafening him for a minute. Okay, sensitivity too sensitive.

Jason walked towards the noise, adjusting his audio again before he caught sight of the thing making all the noise. "Nice ear Damian, I'll call you guys back." Jason murmured before hanging up on his family, and promptly hanging up on Damian when he tried calling back right after he dropped the call.

"Hey, pretty girl." Jason tenderly whispered, dropping all previous signs that he was one of the most feared names in Gotham as he knelt before the shivering dog in front of him.

The auburn-haired dog whimpered again and pulled her front paw closer to her chest and tried pressing herself between the wall and the dumpster. "Hey, hey, I'm not gonna hurt ya. You don't need to be scared of me, pretty girl." He slowly extended his arm out to the injured looking dog, waiting and hoping that she would lick his hand or sniff it or something that showed she wasn't scared of him.

She however continued to try and push herself back into the corner, away from him. Jason sighed and thought to himself of what to do, going to scratch the itch on his chin when he felt the smooth metal of his helmet against his fingertips.

"Jeez, Jace, that might help if she could see you." He quickly pulled the latch at the base of his neck and pulled the deactivated red mask off his head. "There you go, is that better girl?" Jason quickly shook his hair out of helmet hair mode and smiled gently back at her.

Her shivering body seemed to calm down and the dog leaned forward with a curious expression, slowly scooting out of the corner with her nose extended towards his hand. As she started coming more towards his hand and into the light, Jason saw that there was a long piece of barb wire wrapped around her front paw, covering it in dry and wet blood. "Aw, sweet pup. Let's get you all cleaned up, you pretty girl. Let me see the leg."

The German Shepherd of a dog finally walked into the awaiting arms of Jason; while doing so, she kept her front paw to her chest, holding it away from hurting it any further. The young vigilante kept cooing and whispering quiet words of encouragement to her as he lifted her up onto his lap, he  was already sitting cross legged on the damp ground of the alley way. "I'm going to take you home and have my friend patch you up, okay?" Jason whispered to the dog as he gathered her up in his arms and stood up.

She whimpered quietly and twisted her body around to face him, her pink tongue reaching over to lick his cheek. "Aw, you're welcome."

<<<>>> 

"So, you are saying, Master Jason, that you found this dog in the alley way and you brought her here?" Alfred has asked this question about three times over since Jason and Dick had driven back into the Batcave, Dick still dressed in the cowl he had to wear tonight to assure that everyone that Batman was still about.

"Eyup," Jason popped the "p", keeping his eyes fixed solely on the dog who laid passed out of the table. Watching the man who could be considered the boys grandfather, Jason saw how he was patching up the dog; yes, he was doing one of his many hobbies of being a caregiver, but he seemed very stiff. "Honestly Alfred, if you have a problem with this, I can keep her at mine and Roy's place."

"It is not a problem at all, Master Jason. I don't think anything could be possibly worse than Master Damian's vast array of animals." Dick chuckled from his place in front of the computer, everyone remembering different instances where Damian's animals caused chaos in the house. "Just keep her front leg cleaned and we can talk about what to do with her when Master Bruce returns."

The tallest of the used to be Robins nodded his head and walked over to Alfred's small operating table, the butler walking away with the barbed wire and his surgical tools to return upstairs to his butling. Stealing the silver chair from the corner, Jason wheeled it over and sat next to the dog's head, patiently waiting for her to wake up.

"So, a dog," Dick spun his chair around to look at his little brother, his Little Wing. "Always saw you as a cat kinda dude."

"Please, you know you're the cat fanatic of the family."

"Then why do I have a folder full of you and Alfred the cat cuddling pictures?" Dick chuckled to himself as he pulled the folder up on the screen, showing the multitude of pictures of the buff man and cat.

A gentle blush dusted across Jason's nose and cheeks, "I'm not gonna deny that I am an animal person, but I prefer dogs over any other animal."

Dick hummed at his brother as he rolled his eyes and spun back to the computer. "What's ya gonna call 'er?"

"Hmm," Jason hadn't really gotten that far, all that was in his head was: dog hurt. Help dog. Dog home. Good dog. "I don't know, I don't really want to name her if she isn't really mine."

"Well you got to call her something other than dog." The faux Batman had a point.

Before Jason could really say anything else on the matter, he noticed the German waking up. "Hey, pretty girl." He rubbed the top of her ear between his forefinger and thumb, watching as her dark eyes looked around and groggily focused on him. "How you feeling?" She whimpered at him in response before the dog pushed her body up, stopping when she felt her paw not freely moving before she saw the gauze Alfred had wrapped around the now clean wound.

Jason happily smiled as she yipped and moved herself to be able to lick his hand, rubbing her wet nose against his calloused hand. "So much for a cat person." Jason had to stop himself from rolling his eyes as Dick muttered while he finished up the report for the night.

<<<>>> 

By the end of the fourth day, Bruce and the Demon Sperm Product were scheduled to be home at any moment and Jason was kinda upset that they were coming back home. Okay, so he was happy that they were coming back, because dear God does Bruce do a lot around the city. Tim, Dick and Jason were ready to have two more sets of fists to help swing at the criminals of the city. Let's just thank God that Joker didn't decide that this was his week to break out of Arkham.

But the only living Todd was not looking forward to Damian coming home and stealing Pretty Girl away from him. And that she would love Damian more than she seemed to love him. He finally came to the conclusion to just name the dog Pretty Girl, finding it a fitting name with the knowledge that she was in fact a girl and she was a pretty dog.

So, while breaking down and then proceeding to rebuild his pistol over and over again, Jason stared at the dog who rested her head on his knee, she placed it there after she noticed he couldn't stop making it jump. The clicking of the gun pieces over and over again quickly drew her dark eyes open and stared up at him. "Hey, don't look at me like that." Looking around the room, Jason found he was alone, besides Pretty Girl, in the Batcave and he turned back around to her. "Don't tell Dick I said this, but I'm nervous for you to meet Damian, or I guess Damian to meet you."

Jason went on rambling about his internal worries about Damian and Pretty Girl, but as he looked down to her, all he saw in her eyes was understanding, as if she knew what he was telling her. "I just...I don't want to lose you, Pretty Girl." Setting the gun aside, Jason opened his lap up and the red furred German Shepherd happily accepted the invitation to leap onto the young adult's lap, quickly smothering his face in kisses and licks. He could almost feel her reassuring him that all of his worries are impossible to happen.

The rare deep throated chuckles from Jason were cut short by the rapid footstep and demanding voiced of Damian Wayne racing down the stairs. "Todd? Todd where is this dog? Are you torturing it with your presence? Are you actually torturing it?"

"I'm not an animal torturer, you little brat." Jason muttered to himself as the curious dog leapt from his lap and bounded excitedly towards the oncoming voice.

Her higher pitched barks varied greatly from Titus' deep-set barks that followed after his master's stride. Jason didn't think it was a good idea for her to go up into the mansion, not wanting to have Titus, or even Alfred, bite her for intruding on their space. And BatCow, damn that uttered animal was mean, ain't no way that Jason was letting his Pretty Girl near that monster.

Damian slid towards the dog on his knees, a smile quickly crossed his face at the sight of her. "You should be grateful I heard you over Todd's headset, otherwise something could have eaten you." Running his hair through her freshly cleaned fur towards her ears, Damian quickly looked over to his older brother. "You did well in taking care of her in my absence Todd. You can proceed home now; I don't think the dog nor I will be requiring your assistance any longer."

Jason's breath hitched in his throat as he continued to watch Pretty Girl, his Pretty Girl, lick at Damian's outspread hand. But that's how she was, a dog who loved people and would love anyone who would give her the time of day. He wasn't anything special to her.

Brushing past Bruce, Jason said his goodbye, stating he would see everyone for tonight's patrol when he got there. As he left, he could hear the happy barks of the dog he let himself be stupid enough to feel connected to. "Who the hell am I kidding, she's just a fricking dog, not a woman." But when she was around him, Jason actually felt wanted and needed by someone other than this damned city.

"Will you be needing anything, Master Jason before you go?" Alfred asked without looking up from the dinner he was preparing for Master Bruce's return dinner, knowing all of the boys' footsteps by heart after years of hearing them stomp around the once quiet home he cared for.

"No, I-" Looking up at the old man, Jason stopped in his tracks. "Do you still make that killer hot chocolate you would make me when I was a kid?"

"Only for you, Master Jason." Alfred then swiftly whisked around the kitchen as he prepared the hot chocolate that Jason adored as a little kid; somethings never changed.

But even with the steaming drink before him, that still tasted like heaven in a drink by the way, Jason radiated a mopey mood. "Jason?" The deep-set voice of his adopted father asked from the doorway of the kitchen, surprised to see Jason here,  half expecting Jason to already be back at his apartment and as far away from the house as he could be.

"That's my name, don't wear it out." Named vigilante sighed half-heartedly before taking a quick sip of the drink.

Bruce eyed his son up and down, never too used to emotions, especially coming from this one. Usually Dick was the over emotional and sighing one. "Is...everything alright?" Knowing he was stepping on eggshells, Bruce proceed with caution and took a bar stool next to Jason.

"Oh peachy, good to be reminded around here that I'm not needed and that every time I think someone will depend on me and think I'm worth their time will turn around to someone else, leaving me in their dust." Slamming the cup down, Alfred cleared his throat at the action, resulting in a quiet apology from Jason.

Bruce's steely eyes kept a fixed stare on the black-haired boy with the white streak running through the middle. "Jason, you know you're-"

"I don't need your sympathy, Bruce." Standing up, the boy feeling interrogated quickly chugged his hot chocolate down, welcoming the scalding burn to his throat before gently placing the glassware in the sink to be cleaned later. "I'm running back to my place, call me when you head out for patrol." And without any room from Bruce to call out, Jason had left to grab his bike from the Batcave.

Swinging his leg up over the seat of the bike, Jason switched on the engine and sped off, the screeching of his tires not allowing him to hear the frantic barks of a German Shepherd he was leaving behind.

<<<>>> 

Over the next couple of days, Jason has been far more irritable and much more trigger happy than normal, leaving many of the perps they took down wounded and heavily bleeding. He couldn't even stand the voice of Damian, always snapping at him and disregarding his presence as if he were a gnat on the floor.

"Little wing, you have got to-"

"Quit with that stupid name, Penis!" Jason harshly barked at Dick.

Taken aback, the vulgarly nicknamed blacknette took a step back, the shock evident on his face; that was always a sore topic for Dick, memories of his younger years at the circus with all the older boys who were fire swallowers or throwers making fun of his choice of nickname.

Jason regretted his words as soon as they left his lips, but every little thing was getting on his nerves. And like everything he regretted, he ran from it. Before Dick or the rest of the shocked family could do anything, Jason Todd was gone. "What the heck was the about?" Tim broke the silence from the medical bench, hissing as Alfred continued to stitch up the gash on his forehead.

"Whatever it is, Jason needs to get himself in order, he's going to get suspended from the field if he continues to act like this." Bruce with his cowl still on, glances over to still fazed Dick.

"I think Todd poisoned my dog." Damian declared, having decided it was proper time to change the subject.

Alfred scoffed. "Master Jason did no such thing."

"Then why is she being as grumpy as he is? All she does is sleep in front of his bedroom door upstairs." Rolling his eyes, the usually calm Alfred pulled the thread too tight, resulting in a yelp of pain from Tim.

"You all are too blind to see that Master Jason was very attached to that dog."

"But she's mine!"

"Quite the contrary Master Damian, Master Jason found her and took care of her until you came home from your business trip and claimed her as your own. That is also the explanation for Master Jason's irritability." The butler left his family with this knowledge and proceeded upstairs to enjoy himself a cup of tea.

"What's Pennyworth going on about?"

"A very valid point." Dick said, finally out of his trance. "You should have seen him with her, he loved Pretty Girl."

"Yeah." Tim voiced his agreement.

"But that is such a repulsive name, I think BatDog fits her so much better." From her corner of the room, the German Shepherd perked up at Dick calling her name, only to drop it back down when Damian wandered over to her.

Pulling the cowl off his head and moving to put it away, Bruce called, "Just get Jason back here in a better mood for patrol tomorrow," before walking up the stairs to his bed.

"Well, what's the plan, Dick?"

"We're going to make Jason regret ever bringing up that nickname." Dick replied with a hard-set goal behind his eyes.

<<<>>> 

"Whoever the fuck you are go away!" Jason groaned at the door, not happy to be woken up from his not so peaceful sleep to banging on his front door. He got home and didn't even bother changing out of his bloody uniform, just falling onto his bed and calling it a night.

More banging.

"Quit it!"

Even more banging.

"That's it, you're getting a bullet in the head." Grabbing his pistol from the nightstand, Jason swung open the door and pressed the end of the barrel to the smiling face of his grinning older brother. "What the hell are you doing Dick? It's 4:30 in the fucking morning."

"Oh, the time is called payback for calling me Penis." Happily grinning, Dick was way too calm for someone with a gun pointed point blank at his head.

Groaning, Jason lowered his arm, "Yeah man, I'm sorry 'bout that I just haven't-"

"And that’d be why I am here." Using incorrect grammar always bugged Jason, so this was another little payback is a bitch move of Dick's while he pulled the leash he had hidden behind his back.

"Pretty Girl?" The dog barked happily at her name and leaped across the threshold of the apartment into Jason's unsuspecting arms. "Hey, who's my Pretty Girl?" He pulled his arms out and scratched behind her ears, her pink tongue catching his face and hands as much as she could, both happy to see the other person again. "Dick what's going on? Why'd you bring Pretty Girl here?"

"Well, Damian thinks you poisoned her because she was mopey when you left, Bruce is sick of your attitude, I'm not too pleased with your choice of nickname, Alfred misses making hot chocolate for you, and Tim couldn't care any less that I'm bringing the dog back." Staring at his older brother in disbelief, Jason looked back down at the panting dog, she looked as though she could be smiling back at him. "And she just missed you."

Smiling at the dog, Jason pressed a kiss to the top of her head, "I missed you too girl."

But the joy wasn't long lasting, after Jason pressed the quick kiss to the dog, a loud popping sound followed by a woosh almost blew his ear drums out. A purple dust filled the apartment entry way, filling both Jason's and Dick's mouth with a nasty taste of magic.

"What the hell?" Jason coughed and fanned the dust away from his face, taking a look over to Dick to see him trying to cough up a lung. "Pretty Girl?"

"Down here." A loud shriek followed the voice, if it was from Jason, Dick or the new feminine voice, no one would admit or ever know. But the new not deep make voice scared the crap out of Jason.

Looking down, he saw a girl sitting at his feet, her H/C was a mess and E/C eyes stared right back at him, scared and just as confused as he was. "Um, who are you?"

"I-I'm Pretty-" She caught herself before she said the dog's name. "I'm Y/N."

Nodding, Jason took his leather jacket off and used it to wrap around you, keeping his eyes level with your own, covering you as best as he could with a jacket. "Okay, Y/N," turning away from you he saw that Dick had already read his mind and grabbed you a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt from Jason's closet. "Let's get you some clothes on and we can find out what just happened."

"I...Klarion, I think his name was Kalrion. I was petting his cat when he cursed me or something like that." Nodding, Jason ushered you into the door and out of the hallway where peering eyes could look and led you to the living room, turning his back to you as you changed.

"Sounds like a curse Klarion would do." Dick commented.

Nodding, Jason turned around after you gave him the go ahead. "So, Y/N, um, do you have someone you could call, a boyfriend, husband? Something like that?" Not noticing how your face fell at the question, Jason couldn't let himself look at you for longer than a few seconds, his hands in his pockets were getting sweaty and clammy faster than he wanted to put a bullet through the Joker's head.

"I...no, I just got out of a halfway home, I got out of there cause no one wanted me, and I just turned eighteen a few days before all this happened." You meekly looked down at your feet, playing with your fingers.

"Oh...well um...you can..." Quickly clearing his throat, as well as trying to cough up this nervous behavior he had brewing inside of him, he looked up at you finally meeting your eyes again. "You can stay here for the night. I can take the-"

"I am not letting you take the couch, I watched you come back to the cave with all those bruises and cuts. You are sleeping on your own bed. I can take the couch." You stood tall and stared back at him, your body telling him you were set on your decision and that it would take more than an army to make you change your mind.

"I...okay." Jason relented as he felt how tired his body was, it was still way too early for him to be awake, and his mind was slowly shutting down. "I'll grab you a pillow and blanket."

"Don't worry Jaybird, I gottem for you." Dick happily bright out the pile of linens and went places them on the couch. "And if you will excuse me, I need to go explain to Bruce how we have a new addition to the family." Chocking on his own spit, Jason turned to shout something at his brother, but spluttered out very few words.

"I...I guess this is good night." Jason nodded in agreement and turned to go down the hall to his bedroom. "And Jason," turning back to the mystery girl, Jason felt himself calm a little at her smile. "You can't lose me that easily Jason, especially not to Damian."

Smiling back, Jason thought a second before he responded. "Thanks, Pretty Girl."

[bigskydreaming]

Why do You dislike Scott Snyder? I mean I have my reasons.. like a lot of the Court of Owls stuff, his convoluted plots, making Dick a punching bag for the broody bats, horrible at writing the family as a family he literally wrote Death of the Family I mean....*kill bill sirens* ... Also the ''son of a Damian'' line from Black Mirror etc. But I'm curious if you have more reasons since I'm pretty new and I'm told that he likes Dick and wanted to write Dick focused books and I don't.. buy it.

LOL yeah, all of that for sure, and I mean.....tbh, I don’t pay enough attention to his interviews and stuff to even be aware that he’s said that about liking Dick and wanting to write Dick-centric books, but I’m with you on that....not necessarily meaning anything.

God knows I’ve lost track of how many fic writers in this fandom swear up and down they love Dick Grayson and yet I avoid their stories with extreme energy, lmao, because I’ve read enough of their takes on DG that I’m like hmmm, yeah, we are not the same, lol. I mean, there’s a certain couple fic writers who just are like....DETERMINED to mention Danny Chase every single time I make a post about why I’m annoyed by the focus on Dick’s allegedly infamous temper. And its always the exact same song on repeat, they’re like “OH-HO, so apparently you don’t remember the time Dick choked Danny, a literal CHILD, just because Danny had the nerve to tell him Jason died, cuz like, I do, and it was AWFUL and Danny could have died TOO y’know, that’s how mad Dick was.” 

And then I just kinda stare at these words that apparently mean things, and enter a fugue state where an unknown amount of time passes and by the end of it I feel 80 million epochs older, and its like....no, I absolutely do remember that time when Dick grabbed Danny by the shirt and yelled in his face because he just found out his brother died and Danny said “what’s the big deal, its not like it doesn’t happen all the time” and this was absolutely not an awesome and fun scene for anyone, no matter how understandable Dick’s upset was at the time. BUT, I also happen to remember, since y’know, it was in that literal exact same issue, how then Dick went to see Bruce, and due to BRUCE’S upset about Jason’s death, Bruce literally punched his remaining son to the ground, screams about how it was all Dick’s fault, and kicks him out of the house Dick grew up in and tells him to leave his keys with Alfred. 

And its like......the very same people who LOVE to throw around references to Danny Chase in order to puff up the claims about Dick Grayson being volatile and extreme and having a Dangerous Temper like, flat out REFUSE to ever even ACKNOWLEDGE that scene with Dick and Bruce, from the literal exact same issue, because they at the same time claim that THIS was bad writing and OOC and Bruce would never.....but apparently, the writing from ten pages before it was just fine and completely accurate and Dick absolutely would not only ever, he would always, and thus Dick’s Legendary Dangerous Temper is canon and its why Dick can’t have nice things or people being nice to him in these writers’ stories, its too Dangerous, he might get mad I guess.

And each time this comes up on this site, I’m always like....hey, science side of tumblr, is it possible that insisting on vilifying Dick for his reaction to someone in the wake of Jason’s death whilst simultaneously refusing to acknowledge the scene of Bruce’s reaction to Dick is canon or in-character despite existing in the exact same issue and written by the exact same writer.....like....could this be one of those double standards I’m always going on about? And isn’t it in fact reasonable to question just how much or how little someone actually means it when they say they love a character but want that character flogged in the middle of the town square for a Bad Reaction to something that also prompted a Bad Reaction from another character but this character, they’ll like, throw themselves in front of a moving train if it keeps someone from daring to even suggest that THEIR reaction was canon and in-character and might potentially say something damning about their temper or behavior with friends or family?

*heaves endless sigh of endlessness*

Sorry, that example was right there on the tip of my brain today because like....I literally just saw another post around this oft-deceased and resurrected and killed to death again dead horse like, five minutes ago and then came to dip into my ask box for the first time today and it was like.....destiny. Assuming destiny has some free time to kill and nothing better to do, which, I mean, hey, everyone’s allowed a hobby is all I’m saying.

LOL sooooooooooo, ANYWHO, its just like.....ugh, I’m so over being expected to take at face value any writers, whether professional or fan, saying “oh but I love this character or that character, and due to that being my preface to everything else I say or do in regards to this character, you have zero basis for claiming that you do not like or trust my depiction of this character because ummm, read much? I literally JUST said, I love them though? Wow. Insert scoffs of incredulity here, I don’t even know how to talk to someone who thinks I don’t like a character I claimed I like just because literally everything else I say or do about them paints an opposing picture to the contrary.”

LMAO. Sorry. Had to get that off my chest. But yeah, like, I think EVERY canon Batfam writer has made a similar claim in recent years about pretty much every Batfam character, and at a certain point it starts to be like....okay, if all of you are telling the truth here, shouldn’t we see more canon evidence of like....these characters that you’re writing, like....actually even LIKING each other? At what point are we allowed to question the legitimacy of you saying oh I totes love this character, that’s why I write their family as abusing them, that’s just love, baby, that’s what it looks like.

Personally, I’d like to see more of us at least using qualifiers? I mean, I do say I don’t hate Tim, or Bruce, or any of these characters, but I get how people could be dubious about that and be all, umm, you rant about them a lot, because like...yeah. Fair. That’s a valid critique. SO its a lot more accurate for me to be like, I love 90s Tim and I just have become increasingly less enchanted with the character over the past twenty years since then, enough so that my knee-jerk reactionism to people bashing Dick’s character BECAUSE of what Dick did or didn’t do to Tim in their eyes, is like.....disinclined to view the situation or his character these days through 90s-Tim rose-colored glasses. 

Similarly, I truly don’t hate Bruce, at least not when he’s not being written as physically and emotionally abusive and/or just plain neglectful, BUT I absolutely despise the abuse apologism rampant in most fandoms, but particularly in this one, where people will make like Cirque-de-Soilei contortionists in order to prove that Bruce beating this kid or that kid isn’t actually abuse, its cuz they made him do it....rather than people just being like, no, that’s abuse right there on the page and I don’t stand for it or stan that Batman, so I have zero desire to defend that scene or his actions there from his perspective, and am totally fine with taking a seat when someone speaks up about how much they hate what Bruce did to his kid there in that scene and how it affects their read of the characters as a whole.

Its like....that too, is a thing you can do, instead of just.....trying to explain why Bruce isn’t abusive see, because what happened there wasn’t actually abuse, since it couldn’t have been, because Bruce isn’t abusive, see, he would Never.

And yet so rarely do people actually do that, and we have people literally championing themselves as members of the Good Dad Bruce Protection Squad when the frank reality is there CAN BE NO GUARANTEE of him ever and always being a Good Dad, when like....his characterization, ultimately, is dependent on how he’s written by canon writers who ARE NOT US. Which makes that desire to see him as just a good dad and nothing but a good dad always, like....not quite as understandable as it otherwise might be, and instead just kinda....willful, an admission that a lot of fans in this fandom will just flat out ignore all evidence to the contrary of this stated claim about what Bruce inherently IS, when inherently all he is happens to be a character who manifests whatever those in creative control of him choose to manifest via him. Like.....there are ways to go about that kinda thing, its just....that isn’t it. Something like “Proud member of the Keep Bruce Wayne a Good Dad Squad’ or something along those lines? I’d have ZERO issue with, because that’s ACTIONABLE, not WILLFUL. It posits not that Bruce simply IS this way and there’s no ifs, ands or buts about it, but rather that just because he isn’t this way in some instances, that doesn’t mean we have to agree with it or condone that interpretation of him, y’know?

But people are like....unwilling to make that distinction or hold that nuance a lot of the times, so my dislike of Bruce as he’s written in certain ways or by certain writers like....grows and evolves and mutates into Godzilla rampaging through downtown New York, until its understandable that people reading my blog intermittently and who don’t follow everything I say on the subject are like.....”Bold of you to claim you like lizards in this one post when I have here nine other posts where you’re just like, FEAR the murderous monster-lizard destroying New York for it is Dangerous and Fearsome. Cuz one of these things is not like the others, bud.”  

*Shrugs* Anyway, all of that’s just my allergy to Staying on Topic, so make of it what you will, hopefully you get what I mean though even if you don’t have like, the requisite Kalen-Garbled-Nonsense Secret Decoder Ring. Back to Snyder though....yeah, he can claim he likes Dick all he wants, because y’know what, Tynion says the same thing and its been well established by moi that my fondest wish for Tynion is that he be kept far, far away from Dick’s character whenever possible. And I’m pretty sure Tom King claims he loves all these characters and we’re all like HAHAHHAHA and we know Lobdell insists he loves Jason Todd and its like wow how curious then that hardly any other Jason Todd stans love you.

The ironic thing about my random bouts of ugh Snyder in a lot of posts however, is that......tbh, its not even his depiction of Dick that makes me dislike him as much as I do? LMAO. I mean, I’m not a fan of it personally, for a lot of the reasons you mentioned, but I don’t like a lot most canon writers’ depiction of Dick these days and haven’t for years. The thing I really dislike Snyder for, personally, is his depiction of Damian.

Its just.....its very Not Good, a lot of the time. Oh, there are moments here and there, but you could claim that for any writer, really, but for the most part, like.....ooof, I haven’t read Snyder’s work on Damian recently enough to really cite specific moments off the top of my head, because I’ve been avoiding anywhere he’s writing Damian for awhile now BECAUSE of it, but....a LOT of the ‘demon brat’ shit in regards to Damian comes from Snyder’s work, and like, I’m always kinda like “hey is making Demon anything the go-to nickname for a kid of Arab descent who is already compared to a terrorist enough as it is like....really the best we can do” to begin with, and Snyder absolutely 100% does not help with that.

To be fair, its not remotely like its all just on him, the stuff that has had a lot of us complaining for years about the blood son crap and the insistence on acting like there’s this stark divide between Bruce and Damian and the rest of the Bat siblings, I mean, see: Tom King again, its just. Ugh, okay, Im gonna have to get back to this in the near future with actually sourced gripes about why I think Snyder’s Damian in particular is absolute crap and could he just not, though. Because it really is my chief complaint with him, like I was never gonna be a fan of his in general just because he’s someone who's like DARK MULTIVERSE BATMAN FUCK YEAH and I’m someone who’s like DARK MULTIVERSE BATMAN UGH FUCK WHY.....lol....BUT like I mention in other posts.....its not like he’s incapable of doing decent stuff or that he’s never written anything I like, because ironically, he IS the biggest canon backer of Duke Thomas and pretty much single-handedly responsible for Duke retaining as much of a presence as he has in recent years instead of just appearing and blipping out of existence like a one-hit wonder, and that can’t be overlooked or considered inconsequential.

That just also kinda makes it all the more annoying that his Damian is so very.....objectionable to me, but yeah. Anyway, that’s the curious case of my very mixed feelings on Scott Snyder, with a side dish of generalized “lol oh, so you do in fact love this character? Well magically all my criticisms of your take on them have now disappeared!”

[alfred-play-despacito]

Tim and his Funky Protective Gloopy Parasite AU

I will most likely never get around to officially writing this, but I’ve had it saved since December and wanted to post it... I basically rewrote the entire Venom movie to fit JayTim, okies, so spoilers if you haven’t seen it yet. Also I borrowed a lot of the dialouge too.

Tim works as an investigator for Vicky Vale. She wants him to hack some shit to find out if there’s an affair going on between Harleen Quinzel and Pamela Isley. Or take photos. He can totally do a photojournalist type thing. Or both.

Tim’s long term girlfriend Steph is an intern at Neo Eden. Tim uses her employee login to hack into the system and look at Pamela’s emails— he finds reports about using humans as test subjects for alien parasite hosts to save the environment and stop global warming. The next day, he writes a report, bypasses it through the editors and posts it on the Gotham Gazette website. Vicky calls him in, fires him.

Tim: But this is real! Something finally important! People are dying! Vicky: We’re a gossip paper, Tim, not the Daily Planet. Isley has the money to sue us, you’re lucky she hasn’t shut us down completely.

Tim is all huffy, whatever, it’s fine. He only did it as a hobby/part time job, he has his whole Drake inheritance.

Steph has his stuff out on the sidewalk when he gets back to their place. She’s fucking livid. And tries knocking him in the face with a brick.

Steph: You couldn’t be fucking chill for, like, five minutes? Tim: She’s killing people with aliens on some Save-The-Planet agenda. Steph: That was my internship! I was lining up a job there! I got fired because of you. Tim: Do you really want to work at a place that’s experimenting with aliens though?

She breaks up with him. His face is on the cover of the Gazette, fresh off the press. “Drake Heir Posts False Rumors Attacking Pamela Isley.”

Tim: So that’s how Vickey got out of a lawsuit.

Tim’s just not in the mood for anything, depressed and all that, so he dedicates himself to living an Aesthetic Mood by buying some shitty apartment in the Bowery. It sucks but he gets a small routine. Friends with the late night shift at Batburger. His neighbors suck.

Eventually someone from Neo Eden approaches him. The dude is named Dick Grayson, he’s an undercover cop that’s been working at Neo Eden as a security guard to investigate the shady shit going on ever since Tim’s article was published. He asks Tim for help. Tim says no.

Tim goes across the city to the Burnley District to see Steph. He meets Cass, who graduated from Gotham University as a med student and now works at Gotham General Hospital. He’s really bummed and decides to call Dick back.

Dick brings him in at night to see the facility. Tim takes photos and then sees one of the poor dudes from Batburger is a test subject. He tries to help the dude out but it backfires (as things in Tim’s life tend to do) and the dude attacks Tim and that’s when Venom is transferred.

Tim and Dick sneak back out (because Dick’s not dying), and Dick drops him off at his shitty place in the Bowery.

Tim: So, are you going to get fired from GCPD?

Dick’s really vague but says he’ll be okay, his boss can sort it out (meaning Bruce.)

All the weird stuff starts happening to him. Crazy appetite. A fever. Venom starts speaking to him, just single words like, hungry and food.

Deliriously, Tim goes out and finds Steph grocery shopping with Cass. He is a little rabid and is raiding the frozen food section, Venom pointing things out, and Steph is really embarrassed. It reaches extreme levels when they pass the seafood section and Tim plops into the lobster tank.

They take Tim to Gotham General. Cass tries to do an MRI test but of course he spazzes because the loud noise hurts Venom. Tim claims he’s fine and leaves.

Back at his shitty apartment, he eats a bunch of garbage and pukes. Venom starts talking to him. (Diverging from the film for this next bit) Tim is kind of just like “fuck this,” and sits down to watch some mindless tv and hopefully nap. Venom introduces himself as Venom.

Tim: What the hell are you? Venom: I am Venom. Tim: You can’t just call yourself Venom. Every superhero or supervillain needs a civilian identity. Just because you’re some alien parasite doesn’t make you special. Venom: I’m not a parasite. Tim: Oh look, Friday the 13th is on. Awesome, I’ve never actually seen the entire thing, so be quiet.

Eventually Tim has an epiphany.

Tim: I’ll call you Jason!

Tim’s neighbor plays obnoxiously loud music and Jason freaks and Tim stomps over there to tell him to be quiet. The dude says no. Jason pulls his little freaky face thing and growls at the dude. The dude agrees to turn it down.

Eventually, Ivy finds him. (Looked at the security camera footage, got a photo of his face, tracked him down, etc.) A bunch of mercs come to attack him.

Jason: Don’t open the door.

Tim’s an idiot so he opens the door.

Tim and Jason argue over putting their hands up or down. Jason wins and attacks the mercs.

Jason: Outstanding! Now, let’s bite off all their heads; heads in one pile, bodies in another. Tim, exasperated: Why would we do that?

They leave the apartment, Tim catches his reflection in the window of a car. Jason scares him.

Jason: I can replace you. I can find another host, you’re just a replacement for my last one. Tim: Listen, if you don’t like me you can just leave, okay?

Mercs and drones show up so they go on a crazy motorcycle chase which includes Jason saving Tim from dying, like, twelve times.

They end up at a secluded warehouse, Tim is fully healed.

Jason: You’re mine, Timmy. Cooperate and you just might survive. Tim: Are you going to… you going to eat anybody else? Jason: Most likely. Tim: Ugh, God.

They go back to the Gotham Gazette office but security stops Tim from getting in.

Tim: If we go back to the apartment I can hack the security and we can come back and sneak in. Jason: Where’s the office? Tim: 22nd floor. Jason: Up? Tim: Yeah.

Jason takes that as permission (and it was NOT) to crawl up the side of the building. Tim is mildly panicking. They end up at the top of the building.

Jason: It’s almost peaceful up here. Tim: I’m not a fan of heights. Jason: Your world is not so ugly after all. I’m almost sorry to see it end. Tim: Don’t drop me, I swear to freaking god, you will never get tater tots again— wait, what the heck does that mean?!

Cue the airplane. Jason starts freaking out because of the noise, so he withdraws and then Tim starts falling.

Tim: Where’d you go? Jay, where’d you go? Jay—

Jason grips on to the building.

Jason: I got us.

Tim leaves the photos of Ivy’s lab that he took on his phone on Vicky's desk.

Jason: Jump. Tim, walking to the elevator: Nope. Jason: Pussy.

Mercs are waiting downstairs for them.

Tim: Guys, you don’t want to do this, trust me. Mercs: Masks! Copy! Tim: Okay, okay, have it your way… Mask! Jason: Copy.

Steph finds them after the fight. She drives Tim back to Gotham General to do more tests. Jason tells Tim to man up and apologize to her.

At the hospital, Cass looks at test results and says Tim has a parasite. Jason gets angry about being called a parasite. Cass explains that Jason is basically draining Tim in order to live. Tim feels really betrayed and leaves.

Tim gets captured by Ivy. Once it’s clear that he no longer has Venom she wants him dead. The Mercs take him out to the middle of an abandoned warehouse to kill him. Jason saves the day. Jason kisses Tim as Steph, and during the kiss morphs back into Tim.

Tim and Jason head off to find Isley.

Jason: Riot’s got shit you won’t believe. Tim: What are our chances? Jason: Basically zero. Tim: Alright, fuck it, let’s go save the world.

There’s a big fight. (Need to think about the rocket situation because I don’t want Ivy to die.) Riot tries to rip Venom from Tim. Tim reaches out and in a moment of pure gay love, Jason reaches out too, Tim’s fingertips brush Jason and they fuse together. There’s more fighting.

Steph cranks up a speaker and the noise makes Ivy and Tim separate from their symbiotes. Ivy goes to grab Riot but Tim pushes her away. Tim turns around and is impaled by Riot. Riot grabs Ivy and they go to board the rocket. Jason latches onto Tim, heals him, then they climb the rocket. Jason cuts through the fuel line and the rocket explodes. The fire hits Jason and Tim, so Jason detaches and allows Tim to live. Tim falls into the bay.

Later, Tim is back chilling with Steph. They’re friends now. Jason is interrupting the conversation and Steph is suspicious that something is going on. Tim claims it’s nothing and leaves.

Jason and Tim walk around together. Tim tries laying down some ground rules. Mainly that they can only eat bad people.

At the empty Batburger at night, a thug tries to rob the cashier at gunpoint. Jason asks if that’s a bad guy and Tim says yes.

Jason: We will eat both your arms, and then both of your legs, and then we will eat your face right off of your head. You will be this armless, legless, faceless thing, won't you, going down the street like a turd in the wind. Thug: What the hell are you? Tim and Jason smile: We are Venom.

The cashier is like, “Okay am I tripping on too much acid, or…?”

Tim: Oh… I have a parasite. Yeah. See you later, dude.” Jason: PaRaSiTe!? Tim: Symbiote is too complicated for the average Gotham citizen to understand. Jason: Well, you’re just a depressed hermit. Tim: Take that back!

They continue walking.

Tim: So… what do you want to do now? Jason: The way I see it, we can do whatever we want.